#been going through a bit of a funk for a while

[artastic-friend]

YOU

is a cool dude :D

Me!!?

[joeyfranchise]

do you picture me?

joe burrow x fem!reader

summary: after dealing with the aftermath of a bad day at work, lingering frustrations from a fight with joe and him being gone due to an away game… you find yourself pent up and needing relief. little do you know, joe’s feeling the exact same way.

warnings: explicit sexual content, 18+ only. mdni. (masturbation (m&f), lewd images… etc.)

word count: 3.2k.

note: i had this idea while listening to picture you by chappell roan!! :) ily ily as always commentary, asks & feedback welcome!!

you hated being so pent up, feeling so close to the edge like this.

nothing had gone your way for nearly a week and it was all becoming too much, you were ready to break-through this horrible funk you’d sunk into and get back to feeling normal. you wanted to leave work, go home, get comfortable, and talk to joe.

unfortunately, your boyfriend was away from home for a game, and the two of you hadn’t been on the best terms when he left.

the fight you had was the catalyst for your bad week, and although it was over something pointless that you could barely remember now, you and joe were both too stubborn to apologize to one another. he ended up leaving for the game without so much as a goodbye, and he’d only pinged you with his location when the team made their arrival to pittsburgh, home of one of their divisional rivals.

you sent back a petty thumbs up even though you were dying to talk to him, and somewhere over on the east coast joe’s fingers were flexing by his phone… he was seconds away from breaking too.

the next day you were swamped with work, endless reports to file and countless calls to take and it sucked every ounce of energy from your body. you left work feeling exhausted, your lids heavy as you slid into the driver’s seat of your car and started it before heading home.

you’d made it home safely and you knew you needed to cook dinner, but you were parched. you pulled a gallon of milk from the fridge and untwisted the cap, ignoring the bit of crust that fell off when you pulled it away. you brought the jug to your lips and took a hefty swig - something you wouldn’t normally do - and you immediately wretched. it was sour.

you slammed the jug down on the counter and ran to the bathroom, practically throwing yourself over the toilet as you started to gag from the congealed dairy you almost swallowed. needless to say, that did you in for the night.

you woke the next morning still feeling nauseous, and tacking on the sadness of an empty bed next to you and a dry phone on your bedside table was the icing on the proverbial cake. you slowly rolled out of bed and made your way to the kitchen to at least make coffee, forgetting you’d left the already sour milk out on the counter overnight.

you quickly disposed of it before trudging back to your room to get dressed to go out and grab a coffee, because you couldn’t make it at home without milk.

heading over to your favorite local coffee shop gave you a much needed serotonin boost, and your drink was delicious, but your spirit was torn right back down when your favorite barista handed you two chocolate chip cookies - the thing you and joe always came here for.

it stung immediately, knowing you hadn’t talked in a few days. you were so close to caving and you missed him horribly, but you also hated admitting you were wrong, so it was a sticky situation all around. you thanked her and headed out to your car, eager to get back home and tidy up the house before resuming your much needed bed-rotting session.

—

once you arrived back home you began cleaning immediately, knocking out the pesky dishes first and then focusing on your other tasks like folding laundry, sweeping, and dusting.

your cleaning playlist was set to shuffle, and the loud music flowing through the areas of the house you had your attention on helped your mood improve. you danced and sang along, swaying your body to the rhythm as you worked to tidy everything up, which took way less time than you expected.

you had long since finished your coffee, and when you looked at the clock on the stove you realized only a few hours had passed, giving you more free time in your evening than you knew what to do with.

you decided on taking an everything shower, hoping the hot stream would help you release some of that tension you’d been holding so tightly in your back and shoulders. you quickly rushed to the bathroom and took off your clothes, placing them neatly in the basket next to the shower door before turning the water on. you opened a drawer next to the sink and grabbed out a eucalyptus scented shower steamer and tossed the tiny puck inside before stepping in yourself.

the comforting scent of eucalyptus enveloped you immediately. you stepped under the shower head and let the hot water run down your body, soothing over the tensed muscles of your back and neck. first, you made sure your hair was well saturated before squeezing some of your favorite shampoo into your hands and lathering it in, scratching your nails over your scalp in a relaxing manner. once you were satisfied with that you rinsed it before raking conditioner through your ends and slowly rinsing it out moments later.

as you squirted some of your coconut scented body wash onto your loofah, you let your mind slip to joe… and what he’d done to you in this shower just before your fight, just before he left for pennsylvania. you tried to push the thoughts from your mind as you washed your body off, but it was hard once your movements traced over places where his hands had been.

it was almost like you could still feel the phantom of his lips against the shell of your ear, whispering dirty things to you.

“you’re so beautiful like this, all for me.”

“that’s it baby, just like that. look how well you’re taking me.”

standing under a burning hot stream was how you found yourself now, yet still, you shivered. you quickly finished scrubbing your skin and rinsed yourself off, using every bit of willpower you had to push joe from your mind… but your resolve was slipping.

he was overtaking you.

you decided to cut the shower short, you didn’t really need a shave anyway. what you needed was to do your skincare, dry your hair, make dinner and maybe even read some. those things always helped you relax, and you needed a distraction to push him from your mind.

you turned the water off and stepped out of the shower and quickly grabbed your towel, wrapping it around your dripping body as you shivered slightly. you stepped closer to the mirror and looked down at all your skincare products laid out before you in the basket you always kept by the sink, but you couldn’t bring yourself to start your normal routine. your mind still lingered on joe. you wanted to push it away… but you couldn’t. you were still thinking of the way his hands felt against your skin that morning when he’d pushed you against the wall under the water, the way he’d kissed and nipped at your neck as he lifted you up and filled you as he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

the calloused pads of his fingers had traced every inch of your body, running along your curves as he took you apart, his strong tight grip held you into place as he unraveled you against the tile wall. you felt every single inch of him with every thrust and… oh. you’re starting to feel hot.

you could feel the heat pooling between your legs as you stood in front of the mirror completely zoned out, staring off into space as you thought about joe more and more. fuck skincare too.

you quickly exited the bathroom and made sure the blinds were drawn as you stepped back into your room, holding the towel tightly against your naked frame. once you were satisfied with the darkness in the room - not too dark but with no lights on, and faint shadows along the walls from your dark curtains - you dried your skin as fast as you could, your body now covered in gooseflesh.

you wrapped your hair up in a different towel and walked to the closet, searching for a box you kept on one of the shelves by your shoes. a giddy feeling bubbled up in your stomach and spread over your body as you searched for it, you hadn’t done this in ages… but based on the way you were feeling and the thoughts you were having about joe… you needed it.

you located the box and stretched up to grab it, eagerly pulling it down from the shelf and carrying it back into the room before placing it on the bedside table where you’d also left your phone.

inside the box were several long unscented candles encased in glass, you only used them for rare occasions like this when you needed to set the mood. you pulled them out gingerly along with the lighter you kept in the box, and you placed the candles on top of the nightstands next to both sides of the bed before lighting them.

you shivered with excitement before moving the box to the floor and dropping your towel, then hopping up onto the bed. 

in the drawers of the table next to you there were many toys from an experiment you and joe tried once, and though nothing was as good as the real thing, you thought about using one of them for your escapade… you grabbed out a small blue bullet vibrator and placed it on the nightstand next to your phone  just in case you needed some extra help. 

you shimmied up the bed until your back was pressed against the headboard, and then you took a deep breath. you let your eyes flutter shut as you began to trace your hands along your skin, goosebumps still covering your body. you imagined they were joe’s hands skimming the expanse of your body, that joe’s thumb and forefinger were tweaking your nipple, not your own.

in your mind’s eye you could see him clear as day, hovering above you with that sultry look in his bright blue eyes, smirk plastered across his perfectly pink lips. you pictured him running his hands along your thighs, fingers tracing and squeezing the meaty flesh, just as you were now. 

you began to visualize the things he’d done to you in the shower again but… that wouldn’t be enough. you needed to think of something else. your mind drifted off to all kinds of places, all sorts of predicaments you’d been in with joe where you had to be quiet, how he’d once held a hand over your mouth at the bengals facility while he stuffed you full by the showers. you were so afraid of getting caught yet so thrilled at the same time. 

you slid your right hand down your body slowly and the left continued to play with your breast, groping and squeezing and pinching just as joe would if he was here. you were shivering with excitement as your fingers reached your entrance, and you scooped up some of your arousal with your fingertips before slowly dragging them back up to circle your clit. 

the next thing that came to mind was the first time you’d brought joe back to your hometown to meet your parents, after dinner he’d whisked you away to your room, eager to have his hands all over you. his lips were instantly pressed to your neck as soon as you’d crossed the threshold of your old bedroom. 

he’d pulled you into him immediately, his plump lips quickly finding the sweet spot just below your ear as he worked to draw a wanton moan from your lips, one that had your eyes widening as soon as it fell from your gaping maw. you struggled to close the door behind you, but you couldn’t let your parents see or hear this. joe laughed at you then, he always thought you looked cute when you were flustered, especially in a sexual sense. he pulled you over to the bed once the door was securely closed, and he’d made you promise to be quiet for him. you’d have no trouble with that, you reminded him. you were just worried he would be too loud. he only smirked at you before kneeling near the foot of your small twin sized mattress, his fingers looping into the waistband of your pants as he pulled them down quickly along with your panties. 

he eyed you hungrily as he looked you over, his eyes almost laser focused on your already dripping wet core. you had wondered what he was waiting for, he was eyeing you so hungrily and you were ready for him to bury his face between your legs, to devour you. 

his gaze moved past you, he was now staring at something beside you. you turned your head confused, but your eyes met the stuffed bear you’d had almost your entire childhood. joe stood for a second and grabbed the bear, turning him so his back was facing you. “mr. wiggles doesn’t need to see this,” he laughed, getting back into his spot at the foot of your bed. his arms hooked around your legs as he pulled you down the bed, and he wasted no time burying his face in you, slurping and sucking at your clit as your hands moved to cover your mouth, loud moans threatening to pour from your lips. 

you snapped back to the present moment as your fingers continued to circle your clit quickly, your body shivering from the sheer pleasure you were experiencing. it never felt as good as it did with joe, but pleasure was surely radiating over your body now. 

you reached down with your other hand, looping your arm underneath your thigh, and pressed two fingers slowly into yourself. you gasped at the pleasure, your left leg was pressed up to your chest so you could fuck your fingers in and out of yourself as your right hand continued to tease your sensitive nub. 

if joe was here he’d be praising you, he’d be worshiping your body. 

“look how good you’re doing, baby. you’re taking it so well.” 

“my pretty girl, always do such a good job for me. you were made to take me like this, huh?” 

his lips would be pressed to your ear, his words a mixture of sweet nothings and simultaneously the dirtiest things you’d ever heard. you imagined his fingers working you to the edge instead of your own, slamming into you and bringing you to the brink. 

you thought about all the things he’d do if he found you in the predicament, your body slightly sweaty, wet hair wrapped in a towel as you pressed yourself farther into the headboard while your hands worked you closer and closer to your orgasm.

all for him. because of him. 

you imagined him standing in the doorway, arms crossed as he smirked at you and… oh, that did it. your orgasm hit you instantaneously, the pleasure blinding as you felt yourself clenching on your own fingers. it made you feel a little drunk, experiencing your peak in both ways. you moaned his name as you came, calling out to him in a plea he wouldn’t hear until he was back home, until you could apologize in person and he could pound you into the mattress himself. 

you pulled your sticky fingers from your core and wiped them against your sheets, something you’d normally care a lot about… right now, it didn’t matter. you grabbed your phone from your nightstand and opened the camera before sliding down the bed, lying there against the pillows. 

you posed for the photo so that joe could see your right hand still between your legs, fingertips still slowly dancing across your now overly sensitive clit. you hoped he’d be able to see the sheen of sweat across your abdomen, and your pert nipples as you pressed your arm against your tits to give him a better view. 

you snapped the photo and opened your messages, frowning as you clicked on the thread and the last thing you saw was the thumbs up you’d sent. you added the image and typed him a quick message before hitting send. 

you: i miss you a lot and i’m sorry. hurry back home 🥲 

you locked your phone after double-checking the photo and message, you wanted to make sure it sounded right. you placed it back on your nightstand and you rolled over, burying your face in the pillows. you were spent after all of that work, and your eyes slowly closed as your breathing slowed and you fell into a light slumber. 

— 

joe grabbed the keycard from his pocket, quickly sliding it into the door and pulling it out before twisting the handle and stepping inside. he slid his shoes off and went straight for the bed, plopping down flat on his back as he stared up at the ceiling.

team dinner was nice, but the conversations droned on and he was exhausted, and he was missing you. he’d told himself all week that he wouldn’t come to you first, that he’d either wait until he was home to apologize or wait until you texted or called him, but his resolve was slipping. 

he needed you. he needed to touch your soft, perfumed skin. he needed to press his lips to every inch of your body… but also also needed you because the game was tomorrow night, and he didn’t think he could do it without one of your pep talks. he knew you knew that too, but he didn’t want to push it in case you were still mad at him. he grabbed his phone from his pocket and his heart lurched as he saw the notification, you’d sent him a message a little over an hour ago. 

he quickly unlocked his phone and immediately the breath was knocked from him as he saw the lewd image you’d attached, with a message about missing him. his anxieties flew out the window, replaced by an incessant desire for you. it was carnal, he knew he had to do everything he could now to win that game and get home to you, to take you apart and put you right back together afterwards as he often did. 

he could feel his erection already growing in his pants, and with his eyes fixated on the image you’d sent he slowly reached his hand past the waistband and wrapped his fingers around his already painfully hard cock. he flicked his wrist one, two, three times as a soft moan fell past his pink lips, and his eyes fixated on the call button at the top of the screen. fuck it, he thought. he pressed it and brought the phone to his ear to listen to it ring. 

after the fifth ring he thought he should hang up, he’d have to use his imagination to get himself there… but then he heard an open line, and your beautiful yet groggy voice greeted him. 

“hello?” you asked, softly and innocently, but he knew you knew why he called. “baby,” he breathed out, his voice desperate as he continued to stroke himself. you giggled and he hissed, knowing he was fucked. he heard you clear your throat before responding, his hand never stilling on his cock. 

“is there something i can help you with?”

photos and dividers are not mine. all cred to owners.

taglist: @joeyburrrow @starsinthesky5 @joeyb1989 @kykysinlovewithafairytale @burrowdarling @bengals-barnesbabe @loveyatopluto @toterry @unhingedfangirl @superheroprincess22 @burreauxsworld @slimshiesty @yelenasbraid @definitelynotdomanique

[ghostofwriting]

no one could feel your hurt

R.C x Reader

Warnings: car accident, blood, trauma, mentions of drugs and death. ANGSTY.

Note: This came to me in a dream. Not edited. Good luck.

Word Count: 6,831

Synopsis: Rafe's dad admits him to a hospital, hoping to get through to his son. Rafe discovers that he has a lot more trauma than he initially thought.

I suck at descriptions

Rafe’s been having nightmares for a lot of his life. It started when his mom died. 

They ranged from the accident replaying in his head as he tried to save her and failing over and over to different scenarios where he watched her die every time. 

The former was always first person, it was him trying to save her, trying to get her out of the car, drag her out, douse the flames. The latter was third person, like he was behind glass as he watched helplessly as he in another body tried to save her. 

They come and go, lately they’ve been more incessant. 

He’s in the passenger seat of his dad’s car. He had some sort of episode two nights ago, he did something he can’t quite remember and Ward decided that he needed to go away for a while. A hospital or rehab centre. Somewhere where he could get 24 hour intensive help. 

Rafe doesn’t understand why he can’t just go to a regular therapist, his dad gave him some bullshit excuse about this place being an all in one. He won’t have access to drugs and he’ll have all kinds of therapists. It works better than if he were to go to therapy every two weeks and go home to a stash of pills and cocaine. 

The one thing he really hates is that he’ll be away from his girl for eight weeks. His dad thinks that she’s bad for him because he always wants to be with her. He says it’s like he’s addicted to her, like she’s one of the drugs. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing. She’s perfect, she helps him, she listens to him. She’s the only person that understands him. She disagrees with the drugs and he’s tired of disappointing her. He had been clean for a while but he happened to relapse for some reason. The nightmares probably. 

He’s going to miss her. He hasn’t gone without seeing her for more than a few days since they started dating. 

Rafe looks at the horizon, the music coming from the radio drowned out by the wind coming through his open window. The air feels sharp on his face. It’s crisp like tiny little needles hitting his cheeks.. The leaves are starting to turn orange and yellow, falling to the grass. 

The sun shining tricks his brain. His whole life he’s slipped into a funk every time the weather changes to the colder months. This time is no different but he doesn’t feel as awful. 

He wishes he were back home, taking the boat out, his girl on his lap as he drives the boat, laughing as he tries to steer with her in the way. She’s the only good thing in his life. She’s the only thing that makes him happy. The only person he gets out of bed for. His dad might be right. But is that so bad? He lives a normal life. She just helps him get through it. 

Ward said that if he does well, he’ll get visitation rights. He doesn’t think his dad is thinking about letting him have his girl visit and mostly talking about himself or his sisters coming out here, but he really hopes the doctors will allow him to have her over. Even if it’s for five minutes. 

He just needs to get through this and he’ll get to see her again. He needs to prove to his dad that he can be without her for a little bit. And the drugs forever. 

When they drive up to the building, he gets a weird feeling in his gut. It’s a huge white brick building with rows of windows. It looks old but well kept. The yard is big, it’s landscaped really nicely, there’s rose bushes, and a fountain. It looks like patients are walking around with nurses and maybe even visitors, he sees some people with badges hanging off lanyards around their necks but he’s too far to read. 

The feeling in his stomach intensifies when he sees someone sitting by a tree and it looks to him like the man is talking to himself. 

Where the fuck is he?

“Dad, are you sure this is the right place?” His dad stops the car just short of the stairs that lead to huge wooden doors. 

“Yes, Rafe, this is where you’ll be staying for a little while. It has great reviews.” He nods at his dad and unbuckles his seatbelt. His dad gets out of the car and runs over to the passenger side, opening the door for Rafe. 

“Ready?” He shakes his head 

“It’ll be okay son. You’ll be okay.” Rafe takes a deep breath and swings one leg after the other out of the car. As soon as both his feet touch the gravel, the doors to the building open and two nurses step out. Waving them up. 

He’s slow to make his way up the stairs, waiting for his dad to grab his bag. He feels his hands get clammy. He feels uneasy. He doesn’t want to be here. 

Once they both make it inside, one of the nurses takes his bag from his dad, rummaging through it. Rafe frowns but doesn’t protest. The other nurse smiles and asks for his phone. 

“Can’t I keep it?” He barely finds his voice. 

“I need to be able to talk to her.” The nurse looks to his dad, a look he doesn’t recognize passing through his face but he steals himself quickly. Rafe looks at his dad. 

“Dad?” Ward turns away from the nurse.

“It’s the rules, kiddo.” Rafe sighs and hands his phone over. His hand shakes slightly. He blinks slowly, his head hurts, he feels sore. Something in his back. 

A lady in a white doctor’s coat walks in, a smile on her face. 

“Hi Rafe, my name is Dr. Jean. I will be helping you throughout your stay here.” She says, offering him her hand. He wipes his palm on his sweats before accepting it. 

“Hi.” Is all he says. 

“I’ve talked to your dad and together we have come up with a plan that would best help you. You obviously have input in this if you feel like something doesn’t work, we can talk.” Rafe just nods again. 

“You and I will have one on one therapy every week, you will have group therapy with some other patients, and we will try different methods to treat your condition.” She finishes, the smile never leaving her face. 

“My condition?” He asks and turns to his dad again. 

“Your grief, son.” Ward says, giving him a tight lipped smile, like he’s holding something back. Like he has a secret. 

“Okay.” How much does he really have to participate? It’s not like they can keep him here forever. 

“I heard you had a birthday recently.” Dr. Jean says

“Yeah.” He doesn’t want to have small talk, he just wants to go wherever they’re going to keep him and get this day over with.

“How old are you?” Her smile scares him, he decides. 

“18.” He laughs at the irony. He’s an adult but because his dad registered him for this two weeks before his birthday, he gets a say when Rafe leaves. He doesn’t want to fight it either. He’s so tired.

“And how is 18 treating you?” Her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s trying too hard. 

“Well, my dad is bringing me to this weird ass place so it’s not off to a great start.”

“You’ll heal here.” She says before clicking a button that opens the doors into the main facility. 

Heal?

“You’ll be okay, son.” His dad hugs him tight, and he hears the emotion in his voice. 

“Yeah.” Rafe hugs him back. He wants to go home. Wants to see her. 

“I’ll see you soon.” His dad lets him go and the nurses lead him in through the doors. 

He steps into the hallway as the doors close behind him. He looks at his dad through the small window as he turns away and walks out of the hospital. Rafe looks forward. Everything is sterile and white and borning. Most of the doors are closed, but as he walks by them he sees that they are offices, each one belonging to a doctor, their name on the door. At the end of the long hallway, there are what seems to be payphones. Three of them. He wonders why they’re there and if they even work. 

“This way.” the nurse says, guiding him to the left of the hallway and down some stairs. 

He really doesn’t want to be here. 

The first few nights are restless, and he just misses her and he wants to talk to her and see her and feel her and hold her, but he can’t. His dad has him locked up in the middle of nowhere because apparently it’s not normal to be codependent of your girlfriend. 

How can he not be? She’s the only person that gets him, the only one that understands him and loves him in spite and because of all his flaws. She looks at him and doesn’t see a broken man beyond fixing.  She sees the person that she loves. The man that he is and the man that he could be. She sees all his potential and she never leaves. 

Everybody leaves. Everyone but her. 

He doesn’t get to see Dr. Jean right away. He doesn’t mind, she’s creepy. He has to go to group therapy first and he’s not at all interested in participating. Every time it lands on him to speak, he passes. The therapist doesn’t force him to speak, just says “maybe next time” and moves on. 

The nurses tell him that Dr. Jean would be receiving an evaluation of how he behaves in group and in the general population, and that it would be a good idea to participate. “Participation is how you get visitation!” She had said cheerfully. 

The first few sessions he just listens to everyone else. Listening to how broken all these people are, they talk about why they’re here and how sad they are, and why they abuse substances. He still doesn't talk. He doesn’t want to talk to them, he just wants to talk to her. He’s not broken for being in love, no matter what his dad thinks. 

He has a nightmare one night. He hears a loud screeching and metal scratching and something else he can’t quite make out. He tries to listen for it, tries to pinpoint what it is but he can’t figure it out. There’s bright lights and it’s fast and there’s banging but he can’t see anything. It’s like his brain has blocked it all out. 

When he wakes up in the morning, he doesn’t quite remember it. That’s usually how it goes. In the nightmares with his mom, he remembers trying to save her but never from what, he feels that it’s different every time but he couldn't tell anyone how. He can’t describe it. 

His session with Dr. Jean sneaks up on him. She asks him how it’s going and he shrugs, not really having anything to say. 

She asks him if he’s enjoyed group, and he nods. 

“You should participate next time.” He looks at his hands, the pain in his back starting back up. 

“I don’t feel like it.” He says and he feels like a defiant five year old. He just wants to go home and it hasn’t even been a week. 

“I can’t give you visitation if you don’t share.” She looks at him expectantly, “how about you start here. With me.” He sighs and unclasps his hands. 

He tells her about his nightmare, about how they happen often and how he can never remember them. He tells her the bits and pieces of what he does remember but it’s not coherent. 

“Why do you think you’re here, Rafe?” He looks at her like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. 

“My dad wants me to be here.” 

“Why does your dad want you to be here?”

“Because he doesn’t want me doing drugs and being dependent on my girlfriend. He wants me to be normal.” She hums and writes something down in the notebook she’s holding. 

“You talk a lot about your girlfriend. Tell me about her.”

“Yeah,” he smiles softly when he thinks about her. “She’s everything. She’s perfect. She’s the love of my life. She sees me, she accepts me for who I am and loves me for it. I’ve never known love like that. Unconditional love. Not until her.” Doctor Jean scribbles something else down in her notebook. 

“That’s a wonderful feeling. I understand why you would have such a hard time being away from it.” He nods. 

“Do you remember what happened? The accident?” He furrows his brows at the change in subject. 

“Yeah, my mom, yeah I remember the car accident.” More scribbling in her notebook, her eyes snap back and forth from his face to the page.

“How do you cope with that?”

“I mean, I was young so it was hard. I shut down and shut everyone out. I was a very sad kid but then my girl helped me through it.” When Doctor Jean doesn’t say anything he continues.

“She gave me a safe space to talk about it, she listened to me and held me as I finally let myself feel everything. She never lets me bottle anything up. She says it’s bad for me so I talk to her about it. I talk to her about everything. She’s the only person I do that with because she doesn’t judge me for my feelings.”

“That’s wonderful.” Doctor Jean says. 

He spends the rest of the session talking about her. 

He decides he’ll participate in group so he can see her next visitation day. 

The days go by slowly, just as you think they would when he doesn't have anything to do but go to therapy and stare out a window. He doesn’t talk to any of the other patients. He has enough trauma he doesn’t need theirs too. 

He forces himself to talk about his mom in group and it doesn’t feel good at all so he stops for the next few sessions which bites him in the ass. 

He’s sitting across from Doctor Jean, her notebook in her lap as she gives him her fake smile. 

“Have you talked to her?” 

“What?” He asks, confused. 

“Your girlfriend.”

“I can’t talk to her, I don’t have a phone, you took my phone.” He says frowning, “I wish I could talk to her. Do you think you could let her come visit me next week?” He bites the inside of his cheek. Doctor Jean sighs 

“I would like you to participate in group more and then we’ll talk about that. I don’t think you’re ready.”

“I don’t think that;s fair.” He replies 

“Participate in group, eat your food, don’t fight the nurses on your meds and we’ll see if you can handle the next steps.”

“I talked about my mom though.” 

“That’s not what I’m looking for.” He leaves her office feeling shittier than when he arrived. 

After therapy with Doctor Jean, he goes down to the cafeteria to grab something to eat. He hates the food here. Today it’s some sloppy wet looking mashed potatoes and bone dry unseasoned meat. For such a fancy place and for how much money his dad is probably paying to have him here, there should be good food.

Did Jean ever think that maybe he’s not eating because the food sucks and not because he’s depressed? Maybe he would do better if they let him talk to his girl. For five minutes. Just five minutes, that’s all he needs. 

He should do what doctor Jean says and just participate more. He should eat his meals and suck it up and then they’ll let her come visit. He needs to see her. He misses her, her hair, her laugh, her soft skin, her eyes, the way she smiles at him, the way she looks at him like he is her whole world. He misses her. 

He starts participating in group a little too eagerly. He talks about his life, and what he’s been going through since his mom died. He talks about how his girl makes him feel, how he feels the need to hold on to her as tight as possible because she’s the only person that understands him. 

He talks and talks and talks so much that he knows this is the week he sees her. 

When he goes into the session with doctor Jean and she says that he can’t see her because of some bullsit reason, he snaps. 

He storms out of his session and back to his room. The next day he doesn’t leave his room. They can’t make him leave either, they come in and try to talk to him but he doesn’t move from his bed. He just wants to talk to her. Can’t they see that he misses her? That he needs her?

He doesn’t have a way to communicate with her so maybe if he goes on a hunger strike and doesn’t participate in group or go to therapy, they’ll let her visit. 

Five minutes. That’s all he needs. 

He needs to talk to her, to hear her voice. To hold her. 

Another nurse comes in to offer him food and he tells her that he won’t eat until he gets to at least talk to his girlfriend. He doesn’t even feel hungry anymore, he just feels sad. 

It’s been three weeks without her. The last time he saw her was the day his dad drove him up to the hospital. He told her it was better if she didn’t come with because it would make it that much harder on him. He kissed her goodbye and left her sitting on the edge of his bed in his room. 

He doesn’t know if this will work. Doctor Jean could decide that since he’s pulling this stunt, he won’t get to see his girl for the remainder of the time that he’s here. If that’s the case he’ll just do the bare minimum for the next five weeks and when he gets picked up, he’ll ask his dad to bring her with him. His dad will allow it because at least he’ll be clean from the drugs. He'll be happy that the drugs are flushed from his system. Not her though, never her. 

He wakes up from another nightmare, he’s sweating, his hands are shaking, and tears are streaming down his face. They’re getting more intense. He needs her. 

He looks at the clock on the wall, it’s two in the morning. He rubs his eyes and slides off his bed. He knows everyone is in their rooms now and that there aren’t many nurses at night. He slowly opens the door of his room and peaks out into the dimly lit hallway. 

He’s thinking about those phones he saw when he first arrived. He quickly and quietly makes his way through the hallway and up the few steps to the entrance. He looks to his right and sees the doors that lead to where he had last seen his dad. He ducks so that the person at the front desk doesn’t see him. All the office doors are closed so he moves to his left towards the end of the hall where the phones are. 

Once he reaches the phones, he chooses the one that is least illuminated by the hall light and crouches down, pulling the phone down with him. His ears ring and his hands are still shaking. He puts the receiver to his ear and dials her number. 

He hears a click on the other end and a breath. 

“Hello?” he says 

“Rafe?” She’s confused but her sweet voice fills the speaker and he closes his eyes to savor the moment. 

“Hi baby.” he hums. He has tears in his eyes again because he misses her so much and he just wants to see her but he can’t because his dad hates him.

“Hi sweetie.” She says, she sounds sleepy.

“I woke you up. I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to you. I needed to hear your voice.” 

“It’s okay, you’re okay.” She giggles. 

She asks him how he is and he tells her the truth. That he misses her and that he wishes he could see her and be with her. He asks her where she is and what she’s doing and she tells him that she misses him too and that she loves him and is sorry. 

“Why are you sorry, baby?” He asks her, confusion lacing his tone. 

“I’m sorry.” She says again 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon, we’ll be together again soon.” 

“You’ll have to wait.” She says and his confusion just increases. He doesn’t know what she means by that. He’s about to ask when he sees a nurse headed his way.

“Shit, baby I gotta go. I love you. I love you so much.” She tells him she loves him too and he  hurriedly stands up  putting the phone back on its stand. 

“What are you doing? Why are you by the phones?” The nurse grabs his arm and starts pulling him towards where he had come from. 

“I just needed to talk to her okay?” He tells her and the grip on his arm loosens. A wave of something crosses her face but she shakes it off and keeps dragging him, 

“Let’s get you back to your room.” 

“Can I see her?” He asks desperately “please please can you bring her? Can I see her? I just need to see her. Just for five minutes. Just let me see her for five minutes.” He’s begging and he feels like he might start crying again. 

The nurse looks at him sympathetically and doesn’t say anything. She just silently guides him to his room where he cries himself to sleep. He’s shaking and he’s so cold. He wonders if this is what detoxing feels like. 

The next day he’s so emotionally exhausted he doesn’t want to get up but after the phone call he really wants to see his girl so he decides he’s going to put in an effort. 

This fourth week he’s going to do so well that doctor Jean will allow him to see his girl. 

He goes to breakfast and finishes everything off his plate, he takes his medication, and he makes his way to group. He talks in group and even answers questions from the lead therapist and some of the patients. The rest of the week is the same, he eats his food, he takes his meds, he participates in group. By the time his session with doctor Jean comes by he knows she won’t be able to stay no. 

He sits across from her, her legs crossed, her notebook balanced on one knee, she’s happy with his progress this week, she tells him as much. 

“I think you’re doing great, Rafe. Thank you for coming and thank you for sharing.”

“Do you think I’ll be able to see her next week?”

“Rafe-” he cuts her off

“Please, I've been to everything, I’ve been feeling better. I would really like to see her.”

“We should really talk about some things-” She’s cut off again but not by him, by her alarm that rings to signify that the session is over. 

“Please think about it, doctor Jean.” He says standing up. 

He leaves her office and goes about his day. He can’t wait to be out of this place. It’s not great. 

He’s started noticing how, for lack of better word, weird, some of these people are. As he walks past the cafeteria he sees a guy that seems to not be doing so well. He remembers seeing him by the tree when he first arrived. 

A lot of the people here seem to not be doing too well. 

In group the next day, he listens as a new guy talks about something in his head and how there’s something wrong with him, how he’s delirious or delusional or something to do with his imagination. He doesn’t know nor does he care. He’s just so tired of being here. 

He has another nightmare. The screeching metal, the fire, it’s hot, he can feel it this time. It’s getting closer, he can see more. He can smell it too, something is on fire. It’s starting to bother him a lot more. Before he could only see the blinding light but now if he turns to one end he just sees darkness, the other side has the fire and the blinding light and something else. He can’t make it out and he can’t make out the other sound. He wishes he could see everything. It’s driving him mad. He just wants to sleep. 

He’s in his room reading a book when a nurse he’s never seen before tells him to come with him. Rafe nods and follows the nurse. He looks at the walls, how they go from white to yellow to a salmon. He realizes he’s never been in this part of the hospital. 

He pushes open the doors in front of him and there’s a room full of tables, almost like you would imagine a prison visitation room to look like. 

And she’s there. And he feels like he can breathe. He looks back to see if the nurse will say anything but he’s not standing there. 

She’s here and she’s beautiful and she’s dressed all in white. She matches the freaking hospital. 

“Why are you wearing white?” He asks, sitting across from her, a huge smile on his face. 

“Why not?” She laughs, he feels her fingers ghosting over his. 

“We match.” he laughs with her. 

“We do.” 

“I miss you.” He tells her. 

“I know you do.” and he’s so distracted by how close she is and her pretty eyes and her flowy hair. She’s angelic. He misses her so much. 

“I love you.” and a smile breaks out onto her face again. 

“I know you do.” Their faces are so close now that he feels her lips move against his cheek as she speaks. It’s a stupid thing they do.

When they first started dating he was too shy to say how he felt about her. I know you do, became their way of expressing it and it soon morphed into other phrases they used. 

“I’ll come be with you soon.” he smells her hair, something different, did she change her perfume? 

“I know you will.” Their fingers are barely touching still. 

There’s another guy sitting in the room and he clears his throat and he jumps away from her. He doesn��t know the rules, doesn’t know if he can touch her or not. Maybe it is like a prison. 

“So how have you been?” He asks.

“I’ve been better.” It’s awkward. They’re being watched and he hates it. 

“You?” He wants to run the pads of his fingers over her face and softly trace every part of it. 

 “I miss home.” She nods

“Of course.”

 “I miss you. You’re home.” She smiles a soft but sad smile at that. 

“Yeah.” He wants to ask about her perfume. He doesn’t touch her hair because the guy is still looking at them. 

“What’s wrong with your hair?”

“What?” She pulls a strand towards her. 

“Your hair was wrong with it?”

“ I don’t know. Nothing.” She laughs

“Weird.” She’s so pretty.

“You’re weird.” He’s so stupid when it comes to her. Never knows what to say. He doesn’t know how he got her.

“I know I am.” Her eyes shift to the gut across the room from them and then back to him.

“Did you eat today?”

“ I did.” He nods. 

“good job, baby.” His heart flutters at her praise. 

“You’ve been doing well. You’re participating in group.” She sniffs her hair and he smirks.

“I’m trying.” He looks at her hands, their fingertips a hair from touching, “how do you know about that?”

“I have my ways.” 

“You talk to my doctor?”

“I guess.” She shrugs 

“Well, yeah, I’m participating in group and I go to therapy”

“Have you talked about me yet?”

“A little bit,” he confesses. 

“What about?”

“How obsessed I am with you and how much I love you and how you’re the only person who sees me and that I miss you so much that I find it hard to be without you.”

“Not for much longer, right?” She bites her lip anxiously and he wants to kiss her so bad.

“Not for much longer.” He agrees.

He feels the guy burning holes into him and he turns to look at him at the same time as she does. 

“Why is he looking at you like that?” 

“I don’t think he’s looking at me like that.” She says, “I think he’s looking at you.”

“Do you think he thinks I’m weird?” He asks her taking his eyes off the man and putting them back on her.

“Doesn’t everybody?”

He laughs. He laughs because she is everything and she’s funny and she makes everything worth it. She makes everything better. He misses that. 

“So they only gave me like ten minutes.” He sighs, knowing that means she has to go.

“It felt like five.” He tells her “every moment with you is fleeting.”

“I’ll see you soon.” She says getting up off the chair, the nurse comes in the room and he turns to look at him and then back to his girl and she’s gone, the door swinging from where she left.

“Wha-let’s go.” The nurse says. He looks out of breath. Like he’s been running laps. 

The guy across the room is still looking at him and it fucking creeps him out. Whatever. He’s happier now. Only a few more weeks here and he can leave and be with her all the time. 

He has his session with doctor Jean the next day and he walks in with a new pep in his step. 

“Thank you for letting me see her.” Doctor Jean looks a little confused but then it clicks, she probably gets all her patients jumbled. 

“Oh yes.” she says with a nod. 

“She said that you talked to her about group.”

“Group. Yes, how did that go?”

“Good. It went well. She was acting a little strange but one of the other guys was watching us the whole time and I think this environment just creeps her out. I mean it creeps me out. It’s not the most comfortable. But it’s okay. I at least got to see her and I’ll be out in a few weeks.” Doctor Jean scribbles in her notebook and then puts it down, sighing. 

“Have you considered you might have to stay a bit longer?” That takes him by surprise. He's doing great. He’s doing everything they tell him to do.

“No, why would I stay longer? I’m only supposed to be here for eight weeks. I don’t want to stay longer. You can’t make me stay longer.” He’s panicking slightly. He doesn’t want to be without her any more than he has been.

“Ultimately, it’s up to you.” Doctor Jean starts, “You’re an adult, but I know you take your dad’s recommendation strongly and he is suggesting that you stay a little longer.” His dad?

“No, no I don’t wanna. I don’t wanna stay a little longer. I don’t wanna stay at all. If I could go home right now that would be great.” His breathing gets faster, he’s trying to calm himself down. 

Why does his dad want to keep him locked up?

“I wanna go home right now. I wanna go see my girl. I don’t wanna be here. You can’t make me stay here.”

“What if I told you that I don’t think you’ll be ready to leave in two weeks?” Rafe shakes his head. 

“I am though. I’m ready to leave. I don’t want to be here. Why do I need to be here?”

“Breathe, Rafe.” Doctor Jean says and gets up to walk over to him. Rafe gets up then too. Not wanting to be there anymore. 

“I wanna go to my room. I don’t wanna stay here.”

“Okay, that’s okay. I’ll see you next time.” She says as he all but runs out of her office. 

It doesn’t get better. He doesn’t want to be here. He wants to talk to his dad and convince him that he doesn’t need to be here anymore. He wants his dad to see how well he’s doing. He’ll convince him. 

He lets the days pass by, he eats his food, he takes his meds, he goes to group. On Thursday he goes to therapy. He doesn’t get a visit. He’s not allowed another one not yet. He panicked a little too much, his codependence shined through and doctor Jean thinks it best if they hold off. They don’t talk about extending his stay. Instead there’s a knock on the door. Doctor Jean gets off her chair and walks to open the door. 

He’s surprised when his dad walks in. There’s not supposed to be a visit from anyone. He’s not earned it. 

“Dad? What are you doing here?” He can’t hide the surprise in his voice. 

“Hey, buddy.” His dad says sitting next to him. 

“Are you here to get me to stay longer because I don’t need that okay? I need to get back home to be with my girl and-and my friends. I don’t, I don’t wanna be here, please, dad.” He’s shaking again, his eyes sting. He wants to go home. His dad closes his eyes and runs a hand over his face.

“Rafe, you are not okay.”

“I’m fine. I’m taking my meds and I’m-I’m not as sad. I wanna go home. I’ll do better. I won’t- I’ll spend time with everybody okay? I’ll go outside and-please. I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” He almost growls at that.

“Yes, I am. How do you know I’m not fine?” He all but screams the question at his dad.

“Everyone calm down.” Doctor Jean interrupts and she shares a look with his dad. Ward nods. 

“I wanna go home.” He repeats.

“Your dad thinks that it would just be better if you stayed a little longer.”

“No, why would I stay?” Doctor Jean looks at his dad again as if asking for some sort of permission. 

“Who were you talking to on the payphone?” Doctor Jean says abruptly. His brows furrow.

“My girlfriend, I just wanted to talk to her. I needed to hear her voice for like five minutes.” Doctor Jean nods and his dad just listens, a blank look on his face.

“And who came to visit you?”

“My girl” She knows this. There’s something heavy in his stomach, that same uneasy feeling he had the first day he got here.

“What are you saying right now? Why are you asking me this?”

Doctor Jean takes a deep breath before the next words leave her mouth. 

“The payphones don’t work.” The feeling in his stomach grows

“No, they do. I talked to her.” His palms start to sweat. The feeling spreads from his stomach to his chest. 

“You didn’t have change and even if you did, they don’t work. They are not connected. This building is old. They don’t work, you didn’t talk to anyone.” Rafe shakes his head, swallowing the lump that’s growing in his throat. 

Doctor Jean is making him feel crazy. He did talk to her. He picked up that phone and he dialed her number and she said hello. Did he say hello? He talked to her. 

“I talked to her and she came to visit me.” He’s adamant about this, the nurse took me to the visiting room.”

“Rafe, you took yourself  to the visiting room, there was no nurse.” He shakes his head, his hands feel numb. 

“Nurse Shaw was taking you to lunch and you disappeared on his watch. Mr. Roby saw you in the visiting room.”

“Yeah, he was staring at me, weird. Me and my girl, we didn't know why.

“you didn’t see her. She did not come for a visit.” She’s lying. She was right in front of him and he felt her. Did he? Did he touch her?

“But you met her and talked to her about group. I remember she mentioned that because she was happy I was going.” His voice is cracking, he can barely get through what he wants to say. He can barely think.

“I never met her. I couldn’t have met her.” Doctor Jean insists.

“but she was here.” Why are they doing this to him?

“She’s never been here and you’ve not talked to her.”

“What are you saying? Why not? I remember- I remember-I remember she was here. What are you saying?” He’s stumbling through his words, his chest is heaving. The feeling that started in his stomach, all over his body now.

His head is pounding. It feels like his eyes are gonna pop out. His ears are ringing. He doesn’t know what they’re saying. They’re making him feel crazy, making him feel insane. 

“Do you remember the car accident?” 

“Yeah, with my mom.” 

“No buddy.” His dad speaks up for the first time since doctor Jean started interrogating him. He looks at his dad.

“What?”

“The car accident last fall. With the semi truck and your jeep. Remember the bright light you talk about? The fire?” His nightmares.

“What are you talking about? What accident in the fall?” 

“You were driving and the truck blew a stop sign and crashed into her side-” He feels sick.

“Stop.” he can’t breathe he can’t breathe. 

He can hear the screeching of the metal, can smell the fire, can see the lights. Everything.

“No stop, no, no accident happened.” He says frantically and he gets up to go stand by the window, to look at the fields surrounding the hospital.

“This is a trauma response. You are blocking the accident out because you don’t want to remember the loss and the pain and the hurt in your heart. It’s your brain trying to protect itself from the trauma, from everything that you’ve been through.” He’s shaking his head at doctor Jean’s words.

“What are you talking about? Why are you bringing that up? I don’t wanna talk about that. It’s fine. I’m fine and everything’s fine.” He yells. 

“The payphones don’t work. You were alone in the visiting room. What do you think that means?”

“I don’t get it. I don’t understand.” He looks at his dad and Ward looks at him with such sadness. A sadness he hasn’t seen in him since his mom died. Like he’s lost Rafe too.

Rafe and the sounds of metal screeching against pavement. The car flipping and sliding. And something else. 

Rafe! Rafe! Rafe! Her screams. Screeching metal and the sound of her screams as the truck collided into them and sent them flying. Screeching metal crushing and her screams of pain and she’s crying and he’s trying to get to her and he can’t reach her because she’s crushed between two cars and he’s trapped upside down hanging from his seatbelt.

The truck's headlights blinding him, the ignition on fire, her hair, gasoline, burning. And they’re stuck. 

The sound of footsteps and his screams to help her first, to get her out. 

Please! Please!

He remembers the feeling as they cut him out and the pain of the heat from the fire. He remembers crawling to her, holding her hand. Crying. 

“Ambulance is 5 minutes out! 10 minutes tops.”

I love you

Just five more minutes, baby please. 

I love you

I know you do

I’ll miss you

Stop

I’ll miss you

I know you will

Rafe

Just hold on, just five minutes okay?

I don’t-

You’ll have to wait

Not for much longer though, right?

Not for much longer. Five minutes. Just five

I love you.

Just give me five minutes

Rafe go

No. I love you. 

The fire, the blood, her grip on his hand loosening.

We’ll be together again soon.

I need five more minutes with her. five more just five more

I would give anything for five more minutes. Please! Please!

Rafe 

Sweetie

“No!” He screams at both his dad and doctor Jean.

He blocked everything out. How was that possible? How did he block everything out? 

“She’s at home, my dad- right I talked to her. She’s okay right?” His shoulders start shaking as sobs of grief release like a tsunami through his body. His dad rushes to him as he collapses into him.

“I talked to her dad? Dad please.”

“She died, Rafe.” 

[novemberheart]

{overview} You put your omega instincts to good use. It’s time to face John

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, slight gore, cursing, mentions of death, slight panic attacks, injuries

Chapter 27 <- Chapter 28 -> Chapter 29

You were thankful Johnny knew what to do. You were nothing but a thorn in the side. Your hands gripped onto the back of his T-shirt as he led you around. Anais happily agreed to watch Vernie, squeezing you tightly in assurance.

Your heart sank when he stopped in front of a helicopter.

“Mac, please tell me what's happening,” you pleaded, keeping your voice strong.

“Just need you to be a good omega for me and follow what I say,” he reasoned back. His hand hadn't left the waistband of your pants, and you were beginning to feel sick from the way he moved you around. “Up you go,” he urged, basically lifting you onto the helicopter with one arm.

You needed to get out of your funk. This is what gave omegas a bad name. The inability to respond quickly when in an unknown situation. You would just have to be strong. Interestingly enough your brain repeated Simon's words like a mantra.

“You’re just as brave and stupid as the rest of us.”

Hopefully, you could avoid the stupid. Yet the sentiment didn't go unnoticed. It was just another way Simon was affirming you were a part of the pack. Their pack. You were chosen for a reason.

You were a part of their pack. It was time you started to act like it.

You grabbed the straps yourself before Johnny could buckle you in, strapping yourself in as tight as you could. It caught him a bit off guard, his hands stalling for a moment, before taking his own seat as close to you as he could.

“It’s Kyle isn't it?” you pressed. You had to yell for him to hear you.

“It is,” Johnny affirmed. “He’ll be fine. Nothin’ a little you can't fix,” Johnny soothed.

“You’re getting cocky, Gaz,” John spoke, making Kyle’s lips quirk up into a smirk.

“You find a reason for me not to be, sir?” He shot back. His dress shoes were quiet against the tile floor. If it wasn’t for his voice you wouldn’t even know he was there.

“Enough with the banter, boys,” Laswell sighed. “You two should be home already,” she adde. It caught them both off guard, their bodies tensing and stomach turning. Your face popped into their head. Kyle’s face scrunched as a pang shot through him. “Sorry,” Laswell added, feeling their mood shift. Ever since you, home has been a touchy subject. Sometimes home wasn’t always four walls.

“S’alright,” John spoke, clearing his throat. It had been especially hard for the alpha leaving after what had transpired. While he had made slight amends with you, it was hard to get back into your good graces halfway across the world. John shut his eyes tightly from his spot on the roof. He took a deep breath nearly able to smell the fresh peaches and warm vanilla. He could feel your hands gripping his shoulders and the way your skin molded perfectly against his. He could feel your cheek against his and the giggle that brushed across his ear when his beard would tickle you. He growled low in his throat, his eyes fluttering open.

They needed to get home.

“Got eyes on them?” He spoke, his voice rumbling through the comms. Kyle didn’t say a word. They were close. “Lead them out the back alley if you can,” he kept his voice low.

As if on cue the backdoor opened, two tall men wearing black suits walked out, with two more behind them dressed in perfectly tailored blue suits. John rolled his eyes. Could they be anymore obvious? A woman turned down the alley making John curse. Would be hard to shoot four people with a witness.

“There’s a woman. See if you can steer her away,” John mumbled, eyeing them through the scope. Kyle entered the alley, dressed as a waiter, pointing for the woman to turn around.

“Sorry miss, but we have a delivery truck comin’ in. You’ll be trapped,” He explained, waving his hand.

“That’s alright,” She smiled. Kyle immediately felt his stomach drop his hands moving on instinct as her hand reached to her side. He dodged her, his hand able to get a good grip on the back of her sweater tossing her towards the men. The knife clattered from her hand against the ground. Kyle didn't bother to go for it, the gun tucked into his coat getting the job done quicker. Kyle took out three of them, John taking out the other two.

“Good work,” John praised. Kyle exhaled, ready to begin his trek down the alley before something caught his eye. It was the woman, lying face down against the street.

Her hair matched yours.

She had a similar build. You even had a sweater that same color. It made his stomach turn, his mind easily replacing her with you.

“Kyle?” It was commanding and concerned. “You need to get out of there,” John pressed. Kyle’s body erupted in goosebumps, his feet finally catching up with his brain. He began to walk forward, the urge to look back one last time irrefutable.

“Can't just leave her here,” Kyle said finally. He opened his mouth to continue, but the sight had made him sick. He turned his head towards the trash can, bile rising up his throat. John opened his mouth ready to rip him a new one, yet his words got caught as well. It was like he had forgotten where he was, his brows furrowing at the idea of you being there.

Why were you in the street? He winced, the reasoning behind Kyle’s actions as clear as day.

“She’s at home safe,” John reasoned. He could see Kyle wipe his face with his sleeve and nod.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know.”

“Get out of there,” John repeated. Kyle agreed silently, heading back into the restaurant.

“Fuckin’ over this shit,” Kyle growled, pacing back and forth in front of the alpha. “Another bloody week?” he continued. The alpha’s hands reached out, gripping the back of Kyle’s shoulders.

“The timeline isn't definite,” John reminded, pulling the fired-up man against him. John felt heated against him- a true sign of how equally upset he was. “The more we keep our heads on the quicker we can get home.”

Sometimes home wasn't always four walls.

“Definite? Could be longer then,” Kyle snarled, rolling his shoulders out of John’s grasp.

“What do they expect anyway? They constantly push for every pack to have an omega and then don't make proper adjustments for it. What will we do when she's marked and she marks us? I won't be able to be away from her longer than a month and you’ll only be able to last around two weeks.” Kyle ranted. They had been gone two weeks- now they were expected to be gone for another whole week. It felt longer than that. Each day dragging on like an anchor in the sand.

“They make pills for things like that now,” John sighed, running a hand over his face. His beta was justified in his anger, but it would just be easier to push feelings aside and get the job done. “She’s not home alone either. Johnny’s keepin’ her safe,” he added.

John’s phone went off. He grumbled, digging in his pocket moving towards the door. He acknowledged something, hanging up in one motion. “Get your vest on. We are leaving,” He commanded.

Every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a lifetime. You had finally landed in a hospital just outside of Kavala. The helicopter ride hadn’t lasted long and you and Johnny had to hop onto a passenger airplane. It was early afternoon when you had arrived.

At least it was warm. Kyle would appreciate that.

“Garrick, Kyle,” Johnny spoke. The woman at the desk clacked against her computer.

“Not ready yet,” she replied bluntly. “He needs more time,” she explained.

“He’s my beta,” you growled before you could stop yourself.

“Marked him?” She questioned. Your face curled. You could be bonded without marking him.

“She did,” Johnny lied. The woman eyed you both before pushing her rolling chair against one of her coworkers. They whispered to each other looking between the two of you.

“Follow,” she commanded, getting up from her chair. You breathed out, your hand giving Johnny’s a squeeze. The hospital was nice. Not as sterile and cold as the one on base.

You were hot on her heels as she weaved her way through the halls, an evil sounding whine leaving you when she would stop and chat to a coworker. Some people just couldn’t read the room.

She stopped in front of a door and you gripped the handle without permission, nearly pushing her out of the way. You didn’t even notice John sitting in the hallway. You walked into the room, your hand gripping the curtain around the bed.

“Next one,” the nurse corrected harshly. You couldn’t blame her for her tone. He was in the bed closest to the window. A whimper left you as you pulled the curtain back.

“Kyky,” you mumbled, already clawing at your eyes. The blanket was pulled above his shoulders, the skin that was exposed wet and feverish. His face looked the same, besides a scrape against his jaw.

You got to work.

You could already tell his leg was in a cast. You pulled the blanket to his waist. His whole torso was covered in red spotted bandages, his arm in a sling against his chest. You pulled both the room and window curtain back, so he could feel the sun against his skin. That would make him feel better. You went over to a cabinet pulling out the smallest towel you could find, using the water fountain in the hallway to wet it. You still hadn’t noticed the distraught alpha in the hallway. Your distraught alpha. John watched you carefully, the ache in his chest crippling as you went about your business without so much as a glance. He pushed that away. All that mattered was that Kyle got the care he needed. John let himself sink against Johnny as they sat in the hallway. The Scot’s soft blue eyes understanding and assuring.

“I missed you two,” John said finally.

“We missed you,” Johnny affirmed. “She’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’. Been hard on her, having both her alphas gone,” Johnny sighed.

“You’ve done a good job takin’ care of her,” John said, his throat tightening. “Is she still….” John trailed off. Johnny knew what he was referring to. The Scot pressed his lips against the alpha stiff shoulder.

“I think she still thinks about it. Especially with everyone being away it’s easy to let her mind wander. Being close to you- being reminded of how much you love her will shake any doubts she might have,” Johnny explained. John relaxed. That is exactly what he needed to hear. A lone tear fled from his eye and he rubbed it away with his thumb. One of the most common misconceptions about Johnny was that emotions flew over his head. Whilst the man was brash and impulsive, he felt everything so deeply and he always knew what to say in the aide of others.

You washed as much of Kyle as you could without disrupting him.

He knew you were there.

You could feel it. His muscles twitched, despite the medicine in his system, like something inside him was trying to claw its way out to get to you. You could hear the clatter of shoes against the floor, not paying much mind until then entered the room. It was a nurse, one that you could already tell knew what she was doing. She was an alpha. You could tell by her square shoulders and frown lines.

“You got here fast. That is good,” her accent was strong, but her pronunciation was perfect. She eyed the curtains that had been pulled back and the wet cloth on your hands. “You have strong instincts. That is good, knowing what your beta needs to get better,” she praised. “He has a fractured leg, an overstretched ligament in his shoulder, and multiple lacerations across his abdomen,” she explained.

“How long will he be asleep?” you questioned. While you had heard the information it was like your brain rejected it. You didn't want to hear what had happened, just how you could fix him. Asking how long he would be asleep felt manageable. Something you could prepare for.

“Whenever the anesthesia wears off,” She responded curtly. “For these types of injuries, we recommend keeping as close as possible to him. He needs to know you are here,” she spoke, brushing past you. She pushed down the rail of the side of the bed and pushed a button on the headboard. The bed expanded on the left side and you took a few steps back to allow it some room. “You can sleep here,” she patted the newly extended portion. “I suggest skin-on-skin contact. That may be a little hard due to injuries but it can be something as small as resting your hand here,” she pointed to his rising chest. “There are blankets in the cabinet. You might be tempted to get some softer blankets from the store around the corner, but it'll be best if you’re a little uncomfortable. Your discomfort will heighten his instincts and spur on the healing process,” she reminded, opening the cabinet you had just dug through. “I’ll be back when he wakes up,” she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder.

“Thank you!” you called after her. You sighed, heading for the papery thin sheet from the cabinet. You crawled onto the bed, using it to cover both you and Kyle. You pressed your cheek against his bare shoulder, inhaling deeply. Fresh linen, mixed with a slight salty breeze from his sweat. “I love you,” you mumbled against him. Your fingers brushed against his side and you resisted the urge to throw yourself against him and bury yourself as far into him as you could. You settled for wrapping around his good arm, resting it between your thighs just like he always slept.

It wasn't long before you drifted off to sleep.

John and Johnny entered shortly after, wanting to make sure you had enough time to get settled. John growled at the state of you. Your tired form shaking from nerves and low temperature. Your eyes rubbed raw, and your hair knotted and unkempt. Your cheeks heated from a slight fever. You always got fevers when you were upset. You've probably had one for weeks. He dug into the bag Johnny had brought with him, pulling out one of the blankets he had packed you.

“Ya heard what the nurse sai”-

“Kyle would murder us if he found out we let her suffer at his expense,” John cut him off. “Besides after what he's been through he’ll want to wake up to her being as comfortable as possible.” John tucked you in, making sure the blanket was rolled up to your neck and chin.

“Her jellyfish is next to her socks,” Johnny added. John dug into the bag again, tucking it under the covers with you.

“What happened?” Johnny worked up the nerve to press.

John sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His knuckles brushed up and down your side, adjusting the blanket again.

“Car crash,” John sighed. “He was in a car that was headin’ towards a warehouse. It was intercepted,” He explained through gritted teeth. Johnny grumbled under his breath, adjusting in his seat.

“We know by who?” He pressed. John hummed in agreement.

“I was in the car behind ‘em. It's been handled,” He assured. Johnny stood, gripping the back of the alpha’s neck pulling him against him. John rested his head against Johnny’s stomach, his hand gripping his shirt. Johnny's hands ran up and down his back, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles.

“You’re exhausted. Need to sleep,” Johnny reasoned. He pulled away from him, setting up a small area on the floor for them to sleep. They've slept on worse.

You woke up slowly. The room was dark. Too dark. You whimpered quietly, causing shuffling in the corner.

“You alright?” John rasped. A purr echoed through your body before you could stop it, the sound pure instinct. “Sweet girl,” he groaned, more to himself than anything. A hand rested on the top of your head, dragging down your back, dipping under the familiar softness of your blanket. You tried to remind yourself you were still hurt by him, yet the addicting warmth of his hand against your skin had you melting into the bed. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning forward, his lips pressed against your hairline. “Both did,” he added, pressing you closer to Kyle. You whimpered out, your hands finding their way to his face, his beard tickling against your skin just like how you remembered. His chest rumbled with a sad sound, his face making a beeline straight to your neck, pressing his way between your shoulder and jaw. “I’m sorry I had to leave when I did,” he said softly. His teeth ached being so close to your neck. All he had to do was bite down and you would be his forever. Connected and bound together. He was tempted to do it while you were letting him be so close to you.

“John?” you whispered, your nails digging into his biceps. A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. God, he missed you. He hummed in response, his cheek pressed against yours. “You don't wish I was someone else….do you?” you asked softly. His heart fell into his stomach, a familiar uneasiness falling over him. How could you even think that? “I just don't want you to wish you had picked someone different th”-

A sharp growl cuts you off, your body being pressed further into the mattress.

“Pull your head out of your arse, pretty,” he growled against your cheek. Your eyes widened and you tried to move your head to look at him. “Remember the first time we met? You walked in and the door blew your scent right in my face. Wanted to make you mine right there. One scent, one look, one word and I knew you were mine. Nothin’ll waver that,” his tone was passionate and slightly desperate, offering you no room for disagreement. He had never shown you he had wanted someone else or that he was unhappy with you in any way.

You just needed to hear it from him.

Sorry for the late update! Chapter 29 will be posted in three days! 🧡😊

[inkdrinkerworld]

Till The Bitter End

cw: angst, LOTS of hurt/comfort, reader’s an ex widow, Yelena and reader friendship, Bucky is very supportive, reader is haunted a little by their actions as a widow (mentioned no detail), sadness and slight depression representation! Thunderbolts mini spoilers (there’s mention of the team), my first time writing for him so maybe a tad ooc but also very post fatws and cabnw Bucky vibe as well!

You’re not a part of his life anymore, you have to keep reminding yourself of that. 

You’re an ex-widow. A black widow, a killing machine and he's a congressman now. 

You can’t be there, you can’t be in his house, in his bed. You just can’t. 

One look into you, one quick search and they’ll know everything you’ve done. All the people you’ve killed, all the blood on your hands. Sure they’d forgiven Bucky, he hadn’t had a choice. He was The Winter Soldier; you were just you. A black widow, full consciousness, full ‘choice.’ 

To his credit, Bucky had tried to keep you. He’d tried to make it so that you wouldn’t feel like you’d had to leave, but he knows you. Knew you. 

You didn’t want to make things bad for him, for his chance to make a positive difference. It wasn’t even that Bucky couldn’t find you, you asked him not to. You made him swear on Steve that he wouldn’t find you. 

Then you left, and you regretted it everyday. Bucky regretted the promise too. 

You couldn’t stay in DC, not for a while, so you’d packed your bags and told Yelena you were going on a vacation. 

You’d been to Italy, Spain, then Germany, but your heart pulled you out of there quickly. 

After weeks of deliberating and talking yourself out of it, you finally worked up enough nerve to settle in Romania for a bit. 

It was every bit as beautiful as you had remembered. The history was vast and it was the last place you and Bucky had been truly happy. 

Your old neighbours remembered you, and when they asked after Bucky your chest ached something red hot, like a poker left in the fireplace. 

You managed to hold it out just until the plums were everywhere and then you had to leave. 

The pain of missing him but seeing him in everything was too much, and you had to come home. 

Not knowing where you were kept Bucky up at night. Yelena hadn’t told him you weren’t in Dc about a month into your ‘vacation’ and he was tempted to break his promise and ask Joaquin to find you. 

Then she’d called him and said, “She is home. Do not come looking for her. There is too much sadness.” 

Bucky hated the regret that swam its way deep between his ribs, settling deep inside of him like that had always been its place. Still, he understood. He didn’t begrudge you the distance you wanted. He knows all too well how it feels to be backed into a corner and forced to stay someplace where it feels like you can’t breathe. 

So he let you have your distance, to clear your head or whatever it was you needed even though he hated not having you close.  

At least he knew you had Yelena. 

You were rotting in bed when Yelena came back to the apartment, she was in her suit and you barely registered her till she was on your bed. 

“Up, you need fresh air. I will not let you drown in sorrows anymore.” 

She reaches over you and yanks your curtains open, sunlight shining through the room. 

You roll your eyes. She’s trying to be helpful, but this hurts. 

It hurts because you want to be with Bucky. You want to help with whatever is going on or going to be going on. 

You just can’t force yourself to stop worrying about the potentiality of things going horribly if you do help. 

“Yelena.” 

She cuts you off, her hand slicing through the air to stop whatever it is you’d had to say. 

“No, you helped me when I was like this. Now I help you. Go take a shower, you stink.” 

There’s no room to argue with her when she gets serious like this, but you don’t make it easy for her. She has to practically haul you to your feet and into the bathroom, blasting cold water on you to help snap you out of whatever funk you’re in. 

“Be quick, we have places to be.” 

You furrow your brows, you never have anywhere to be. That’s why you’ve been laying around in the apartment with all the windows closed and the lights off. 

You don’t have the energy to argue and shower so you leave it at that. 

You hear Yelena whispering on the phone outside the bathroom door, but there’s only so much you can make out. 

“She’s not doing good.” Silence as she listens and then her response. 

“I think this is bullshit, but okay. You are the boss.” 

You really don’t know who she’s speaking to, but you can guess. 

By the time you’re finished getting dressed, you have to scoff at how predictable the Red Room has made you and Yelena. 

You’re in black pants and a black sleeveless top fitted to your body; lest you get attacked. No need giving anyone more of you to hold. Your hair’s in two braids pinned to your head as well. 

“You look depressing.” It’s easy for you and Yelena to speak like this; you’ve pulled each other out of ruts like the one you’re in now and a certain degree of bluntness has always been necessary. 

“That’s how I feel, Yelena. Where are you taking me?” 

She shrugs, a bowl of what smells like Mac and cheese sits on her lap, spoon waved around as she chooses her words. 

“We are going for walk. You need the fresh air.” 

Your walk is mostly silent, Yelena understands what you’re going through better than most. Memories of all the horrible things you’ve done are swirling in your head like the beginnings of a hurricane over the water. You didn’t want to be part of their team for this- you don’t know how to reconcile your guilt. 

When you pass by Bucky’s apartment you freeze. 

Yelena walks in and smiles at the doorman, he smiles at you too but you can’t make your feet walk through the threshold. 

“Come on. You need to at least tell him to his face all that you are feeling. It makes no sense that you sit and mope and wallow alone. He is sad too.” 

You shake your head. “I’m going to ruin his entire congressman thing, Yelena.” 

She rolls her eyes, pushing back a few strands of hair from her eyes. “You are both hard headed. You will not ruin things, you’re just going to talk with him.” 

You try glaring at her, keeping your eyes hard but then you smell his cologne; smell that cedarwood and mint you love and you crumble. 

“James?” He’s standing ten feet behind Yelena and when she sees him she nods. 

“Hurt her Barnes, I know how to take that arm off.” She turns to you, a hand resting on your shoulder. “Talk it out. Get it out of you and come home.” 

He shakes his head at her, waiting until she’s gone before approaching you. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” You whisper and if Bucky’s hurt he masks it well. His hair looks a little longer, brushing under his jaw now. He doesn’t look well, there’s dark circles under his eyes, his face looks paler than usual and from what you can see he’s lost weight. 

Your stomach sours at the idea that he’s not been taking care of himself because of you. Your hands wrap around your middle instinctively at the thought. 

“We have to talk it out, doll.” He says softly and you meet his eyes for the first time. 

They’re still that striking blue that steals your breath. God you’ve missed looking into them. 

“We can go up to my apartment or we can go to that corner store you like.” 

You shake your head, “I don’t want anyone to see us.”

Bucky sighs, a sharp exhale and you cringe at how your words replay in your head. 

He doesn’t say anything and gestures for you to follow him. 

When you get up to his apartment, Bucky makes you a cup of tea exactly the way you like it. You rub your chest to release the pressure building behind it. 

“Thanks,” you whisper, not missing the fact that he’s used your favourite mug in his house. 

“I don’t think there’s any reason for this not to work.” 

You can’t help but smile at the bluntness of his words. Like you’d said, bluntness is appreciated. 

“I can give you five right now.” 

Bucky crosses his arms as he sits in the arm chair across from you. “Give them to me.”

His metal fingers flex when you take a long sip of your tea. You sigh before speaking. 

“For one thing, my past isn’t public knowledge or pretty and if we were together and I was attending all your congress meetings and being seen with you at those galas, people would just dig to find the worst of what I’ve done.”

Bucky shakes his head, “I was the Winter Soldier and they let me be congressman doll.”

You scoff, “You also stopped Thanos and brought people back after the blip and helped Sam rehabilitate those displaced from the blip.” 

Bucky doesn’t say anything then. There’s not much to say, he had exonerated that past. People like a tortured man, they could forgive a man for his wrongs especially if they looked like Bucky. There’s a certain appeal to a tortured man getting better. 

You’re not sure there’s anything like that for a tortured woman, and you know society doesn’t like women that are hard to control and that’s what you’ve always been. 

“I don’t want to ruin the life you’ve just started having James. It was hard before you became congressman, I knew how waking you up screaming from nightmares was torturing you again.” you shake your head at the memories. “I couldn’t keep doing that to you. I won’t do that to you.”

You’re on a roll now. “I don’t want to be another person’s pawn. I don’t want to become a part of their game and even if you’re on the inside of it, we’ll still be working for them. We can’t even trust them and I don’t trust that they’re not up to something.”

Bucky can understand that part, not wanting to be a pawn, but this was what he and Sam had worked on. At least to some extent. 

“Anything else, doll?” To anyone else, it would sound patronizing, but Bucky genuinely wants to know if there’s anything else rattling around your brain and worrying you. 

You take a few minutes to answer. “Those are the major ones.”

He nods, and tries for a smile. “Not five though.” 

You scowl, but it’s not nearly as severe as it could be. 

It’s clear to you Bucky doesn’t agree with you. The man doesn’t have a subtle bone in his body and it’s glaringly obvious that he’s relishing in your closeness as he leans forward, the tips of his fingers brushing your knee. 

“Doll,” he looks up at you through his lashes, his eyes intense as he holds your gaze. “You weren’t torturing me. I didn’t know how to make it safer for you to sleep and that shit ate me alive. I never told you, but after you fell asleep again I’d stay up, watching you for hours trying to figure out if there was some way to tell before the nightmares were starting so I could get you out of them before they started.” 

Your heart lurches. 

Bucky takes your silence as permission to continue. 

“Your past is yours, if you don’t want anyone digging around in it, I get it. I can ask Joaquin to seal the documents, I could seal the documents. I could erase them if you wanted too.”

You sniffle and Bucky smiles sadly. “You can’t decide that I don’t want you. We promised we wouldn’t do that, do you remember?” 

You nod, the memory coming back fast. 

It was just after Thanos, you’d been blipped and when Steven had gotten everyone back, you were running to Bucky. You just needed to see him, to know that he was okay. It wasn’t the time, there was still Thanos to defeat and then Tony died, but the night of his funeral when you were laying in Bucky’s bed, your head on his chest he’d made you promise. 

“No matter what, we don’t sacrifice ourselves and we don’t decide things for the other person.” 

His voice was thin and hollow that night, but there had been underlying hopefulness seeping through his words. 

You’d sat up, your knees pressing into the space near his hip. Your hands reached for his face, you had smiled at the stubble there. 

“I promise, Bucky. We’ll stick it out till the bitter end.” You dropped back on the bed next to him, fingers tracing the planes of his chest. 

He had laughed, kissed your forehead and held you to him tightly. “Till the bitter end, doll.” 

“I don’t want to disappoint you Buck. I’ve been just wallowing in missing you, I couldn’t even stay in Romania for more than a month because you were everywhere. Yelena had to help me shower and I was the one who wanted this to end. What a coward you must think of me.”

Your breath catches on the last of your words and Bucky can’t restrain himself anymore. He tugs you to the armchair with him, tucking you into the corner with a hand on your hip. 

“You’re not a coward.” There’s a hint of finality to his words. “You couldn’t disappoint me ever, doll.” There’s grief building in Bucky’s chest at the thought of you alone in Romania. There’s so many memories of you both together in that little house and he knows you still have your key. 

There’s also heartbreak at the fact that you think you’ve disappointed him. Bucky’s been amazed by everything you’ve ever done. 

“I’ve not been any better, but we’re working on it now, yeah?” 

You nod, shutting your eyes and letting the tears fall. Being this close to Bucky is like a balm to all the mangled and splintered edges of your heart. Just the pressure of his hand on your hip is enough, not to mention the weight of his side pressing into yours. 

“I really missed you.” you hiccup and he chuckles, holding you a little tighter. 

“You haunted all my dreams, doll.” Bucky’s metal arm reaches for a strand of hair that’s caressing your cheek. “I know you don’t want to be their pawn, and I won’t let you be. You’re not going to get roped into it as long as I can help it.”

You sit quietly for a time after that. You’re not sure what to say, so you say nothing and just let your tears fall and let Bucky hold you. 

“If you don’t want to be part of the team, I won’t force you. But I want another chance at us.” He whispers the words sometime later and you look up at him, dried tears like rivers on your cheeks, eyes bloodshot. 

“Even with all the sad thoughts?”

Bucky smiles, his hand stroking your face. “Especially with all the sad thoughts. We don’t live through what we did and just go on, baby. We work for it, and I know you’re trying.” 

You sigh, tipping your head on his shoulder. “Yelena is whipping me into shape, she’s not letting me wallow everyday.” He laughs then, because Bucky can see her doing it. 

“She’s a good friend.” 

You lay in silence for some time again, Bucky’s breathing settling you a little. 

You’re not sure if you’d fallen asleep, but the sun has gone down when your phone rings. 

“Did you talk things out? Are you better for now?” 

You smile, you really do love Yelena. 

“We talked it through. M’giving it another shot.” 

Yelena hums, “So you’re part of the team?” 

You sigh, “I don’t know about that yet. But I’m trying with Bucky again.” You feel the man smile against your shoulder. 

“Good. You are not alone and you can’t do it alone, we can help.” 

Your throat clogs with tears, “You’re a great friend, Yelena.” 

She blows a raspberry, “I saved you from poison arrow and you never left me alone after. I am the best friend.” 

You laugh, some of the warmth sneaking back into you. 

“I’ll be home in the morning Yelena. Make sure to lock the door.” 

“Criminals are scared of me. Have a good night.” 

You hang up after a few more minutes, body heavy with fatigue. 

“Ready for bed?” 

You nod, slipping from the armchair and starting towards Bucky’s bedroom. 

You’ve not forgotten your way around this place.

Bucky is pleased at that fact. 

You sit on his bed, slipping out of your shirt and pants, Bucky doesn’t hesitate to get your usual pyjamas; a pair of his boxers and an old red Henley. 

When you slip into your side of the bed Bucky’s eyes go glassy. 

“I’ve missed seeing you in there.” 

You smile as he lays beside you, your head laying on his warm shoulder.  

“I missed being here.”

[dearlenore]

TE AMO MEANS I LOVE YOU. / S.REID / SUMMARY - Spencer doesn’t want you to feel homesick…

PAIRING: brazilian!reader x spencer reid / w/c: 1.3k / fluff

a/n: req so fire I don’t have anything to add😭 anon req here

You can barely feel your legs by the time you step through the front door. Everything aches—your back, your feet, your head. The combination of a long shift, missed meals, and a pounding homesickness you didn’t even realize had crept up on you leaves you disoriented and dazed. You drop your bag to the floor with a heavy thud and let your shoes fall off wherever they land.

“Spence?” you call out weakly, unsure if he’s even home.

No response.

Your heart dips. It’s silly—you’re not even mad. You just really wanted to collapse into his arms and let him talk about some obscure historical fact you won’t remember while you bury your face in the scent of his cardigan.

Dragging your feet forward, you turn toward the kitchen, hoping he might’ve left a note or something.

But what you see stops you cold.

It’s not just that Spencer is home—he’s in the living room, kneeling in front of the stereo, surrounded by what must be dozens of vinyl records and CDs. Some still in shrink wrap. Others open, their contents splayed out delicately on the rug, like he’s trying to solve a musical puzzle.

He doesn’t notice you at first. His long fingers are carefully placing one of the records into a sleeve. His lips move silently, probably reading the liner notes. You know that face—the one he makes when he’s concentrating too hard to hear anything around him.

You step closer, confused and stunned. “Spencer… what is all this?”

He finally looks up, startled, and then a wide, bashful smile spreads across his face. “You’re home early.”

You scoff, dropping your keys onto the counter and squinting at the organized chaos on the floor. “No, I’m actually late. I had to cover for Clara because her babysitter bailed. What is all this?”

Spencer stands slowly, brushing invisible lint from his pants. There’s a faint smudge of dust on his nose that makes him look boyish. “I was going to surprise you. I wasn’t finished yet.”

You blink. “With what? An entire music store?”

He chuckles and takes your hand, gently tugging you down to sit with him on the floor. “Do you remember a couple weeks ago, you said you missed home? That nothing here really sounded like Brazil?”

You nod slowly, your throat tightening. It had been an offhand comment, murmured into his chest after a stressful day. You hadn’t even realized he’d taken it to heart.

“Well,” he says, excitement flickering behind his soft eyes, “I did some research. A lot, actually. I talked to a Brazilian record collector online, and I found a store that imports vintage and modern music. Some of it’s digital, but I thought it would be more special to have the real thing. Something you can hold and play and… feel.”

He gestures to the piles. “There’s MPB—Chico Buarque, Gal Costa, Caetano Veloso. Some Bossa Nova—João Gilberto, Elis Regina. A few funk carioca and samba records too. And—oh!—I found a Tropicália collection from the ’60s. It was hard to find, but the guy I talked to helped me out.”

You’re frozen, eyes moving from album cover to album cover, tears threatening to blur everything. He says each name so carefully, stumbling a little over the pronunciations but clearly trying.

“I thought maybe we could build a little library,” he continues, a bit shy now, like he’s not sure he’s done the right thing. “A musical version of home. For you.”

Your lip trembles.

“Oh no,” Spencer says, eyes going wide. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You launch yourself at him before he can say anything else, arms wrapping tightly around his neck as you press your face into his shoulder.

He immediately holds you back, murmuring, “It’s okay, it’s okay,” even though you’re not crying from sadness.

“I’m not upset,” you whisper, voice thick. “I’m just… I’m so tired. And I missed you. And then I walk in and you’ve done this?”

He chuckles softly into your hair. “You sounded so sad that day. I didn’t know how to fix it. But I thought… maybe music would help.”

You pull back just enough to look at him. “This is the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

He blushes, his hands settling on your waist. “I wanted you to feel like you belonged. Even when you’re far away from where you came from.”

Your heart stutters.

You’ve always loved how brilliant Spencer is, how his mind never stops moving. But it’s this—his softness, his attentiveness, the way he listens—that makes you fall in love with him again and again.

“I love you,” you whisper.

His smile deepens. “I love you too.”

You glance at the records again, something bubbling up in your chest. “Did you really get funk carioca?”

He grins. “Yes, and I regret it already. Some of those lyrics…”

You burst out laughing. “It’s not all inappropriate, I swear.”

Spencer raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure? Because one of those songs taught me three Portuguese curse words I didn’t know before.”

You fall back against the couch, giggling uncontrollably. “Now you’re culturally enriched.”

“I’m something, that’s for sure.”

He stands and offers you a hand. “Come on. You haven’t even seen the best part.”

You let him pull you up, and he guides you to the little corner of the living room you’d both half-abandoned for months. It had been your reading nook at one point, but life got busy. The chair became a coat rack. The little table sat empty. But now, it’s glowing with soft light from a string of fairy lights. A portable record player sits on the table, already spinning a vinyl softly through the air.

The opening notes of “Águas de Março” float into the room—gentle, warm, familiar.

Your breath catches. “That’s… my dad used to play this when we were cleaning on Sundays.”

Spencer squeezes your hand. “I hoped it would feel like home.”

You sit down in the chair, letting the music wash over you, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, you relax.

Spencer kneels in front of you again, resting his arms on your knees. “Want to teach me the lyrics?”

You glance down at him, grinning. “You want to sing in Portuguese?”

“I want to impress your grandma next time we video call,” he admits sheepishly.

You laugh. “She already thinks you’re a genius.”

“I’d like her to also think I’m charming.”

You hum thoughtfully. “Okay. Repeat after me: ‘É pau, é pedra, é o fim do caminho…’”

He repeats it, tripping over the accent.

You giggle and gently correct him, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “Better.”

“Again?”

“‘É um resto de toco, é um pouco sozinho…’”

He says it again, a little smoother this time.

You don’t even notice how much time passes. You teach him line by line, each repetition followed by laughter and a kiss, until your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Eventually, you end up sprawled together on the rug, your head on his chest, your hand resting over his heart. The music continues to spin, one record after another, creating a bubble of nostalgia and love and safety around you both.

Spencer’s fingers draw soft patterns on your arm. “Do you think it helps?” he murmurs. “The music?”

You nod against him. “It feels like I’m not so far away. Like my past and my present are holding hands.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Then it was worth every penny.”

“You’re too good to me.”

He hums. “I think you underestimate how much I love you.”

You smile, eyes fluttering shut.

No one had ever loved you quite like this before—with thoughtfulness, with quiet gestures, with an understanding that homesickness isn’t always loud or obvious, but it’s there. Like a shadow.

And somehow, Spencer had found the perfect way to bring the sun back.

Later that night, as you fall asleep to the soft hum of Caetano Veloso playing from your new collection, Spencer whispers, “I think I’ll start learning Portuguese.”

You’re half-asleep, but you hear him.

“Why?” you murmur, curling closer.

“So I can talk to you in your first language. The way you dream.”

And you think, just before sleep pulls you under:

This man is my home, too.

[revelboo]

I LOVE your Soundwave(s) and Tarn! Those are my top two fav tfs (SW has been my fav since I was a wee thing!) and I love the way you write them both! Your stories are my daily decadent luxuries. <3

I read your pages every single day because I love all your stories so much — even ones that have characters that I’m really not interested in, I still can’t get enough of their stories! You’ve basically re-mapped my list of favourites and now I have so many more… You even made me like a spider! These characters-first stories literally drive my day and they mean so much to me, I can’t even begin to thank you enough for them.

I do, however, start missing some of these wonderful characters when I haven’t ‘heard from them’ in a while though, lol, especially ones on cliffhangers/edges/buildups. I’m currently ‘missing’ :

— Sunstreaker (so what’s my fav sunshine boy going to do now, eh?);

— the Rainmakers (I can’t wait for the little human to really get their attention); and

— the Constructicons (that last part to “Drive” makes me feel like it’s that moment right before wee little me gets to open my presents).

Although I wouldn’t object to Vortex, Megatronus, and Brainstorm making some noise too, since they were also left hanging a bit, lol.

I’m seriously attempting not to just list all my favs, but it isn’t easy since you’ve made me love soooooo many more of them, lol. <3

When you’re feeling up to it, could we have more Needs and Wants? I am one of those people that just systematically goes through the entire Otome to see all of the endings and ‘keep’ my fav one(s), and this story had me HOOKED from the opening sentence. Soundwave, Tarn, and Misfire? Hell yeah, sign me up! :D

Take care of yourself & know that your writing is fuel for so many of my days. <3

Thank you so much! I wanted to get more stuff updated this past weekend and kind of got myself into an ‘everything I write is garbage’ funk 😅

Needs and Wants Pt 5

Soundwave x Reader, Tarn x Reader, Misfire x Reader, Ratchet x Reader, Bluestreak x Reader, Wheeljack x Reader

• It’s the mech’s almost self deprecating smile and the flicking of his door wings that breaks through the overwhelming reality of your so-called soul mates. That look on his eerily human face that seems as uncertain as you feel somehow reassuring you. And Maccadam is right there, arms crossed as he watches the interaction like a father watching a potential suitor and trying to decide how bad to scare the kid. “We can talk,” you manage, voice shaky.

• “Okay, that’s- thank you,” he manages, tripping over his own words, and his tension eases as that feeling of warmth and belonging grows stronger, more insistent at the sound of your voice. Wants you to keep talking to him. Smile for him. Maybe let him touch your hand. Would that be too much? To let him touch a servo to those delicate looking fingers? Servos gripping the door frame, he feels Wheeljack bump his arm, the scientist’s vocal indicators flickering mauve when he frowns at him. And for the first time that he can remember, he’s speechless, wanting to ask so many things that he can’t say any of them.

• “Hi. Wheeljack here,” he says, awkwardly lifting a hand and warmth spills through him to twine about his spark when you hesitantly lift your own hand with a small, fragile smile. But you’re smiling at him. Shouldering in closer to Bluestreak, he ignores when he gets flicked with a door wing. “You’re looking for a partner?” He asks and you look at Maccadam, expression almost desperate. “I could take care of you.” Wants to try anyway. Because it’d be nice to have someone stay, need him and trust him to look after them. To not be alone.

• Denta gritting at the two Autobots trying to coax you into coming out, Tarn worries at the chains binding his wrists. Wanting loose even if his escape plan has stalled out. Hating that fascination singing through him from being near you to become a yearning he doesn’t want and can’t deny. Maybe when he escapes, he’ll just steal you. Sate this need with you and be satisfied.

• Coming up behind the two bots blocking you from view, Misfire drapes an arm across both of their shoulders, insinuating himself between them to make them flinch to his delight. “Name’s Misfire.” And there you are, so small and needing reassuring. “These scary bots overwhelming you? I could keep you safe.” Wings flaring as Tarn and Soundwave both make a noise from behind him. So much for faction solidarity.

• Tempted to drag all three of them away from your door because they’re making you more anxious instead of less, Soundwave rumbles and rocks into agitated motion, pacing restlessly. Why does it feel like he’s tethered to you? Like he needs to be closer. Needs to touch you. Is this Maccadam’s influence or something else? Wants to soothe that nervous energy away.

• Hears Maccadam’s low voice coaxing and then Wheeljack, Bluestreak and that Decepticon seeker are backing away. Letting Maccadam lead you out, your arm tucked in his, a soft hand on his arm as your eyes dart around the room. Hold his optics for too short an amount of time before moving on. Aware that he’s probably the oldest mech here, that you’re unlikely to be interested in him. Even if he’s also the most experienced. Servos flexing, he’s moving closer, but then they all are. Spreading out, circling you. Hungry.

Previous

Next

[shaun-p]

Martin had been hesitant at first to hire Alex as one of his employees. The man was nine and a half feet tall, a massive, looming figure that could easily intimidate customers. But even more concerning than his size was his overpowering natural musk the thick, suffocating stench of sweat and body heat that never seemed to fade. It was as if he was constantly fresh from an intense workout, the strongest concentration of his odor pooling in the deep valley of his enormous ass.

Martin learned quickly to never stand behind Alex for too long unless he wanted a whiff of funky cheeks, especially since the giant’s butt sat right at face level for anyone unfortunate enough to be under 6feet tall . But if his musky presence was bad, his gas was an absolute nightmare.

At first, Alex would let his thunderous farts rip anywhere he pleased in the aisles, the breakroom, even directly into the faces of unsuspecting coworkers when he was feeling mischievous (which was very often). His noxious gas left thick, choking clouds of rancid stink that could linger for an hour or more. Customers would sometimes walk into one of his invisible death traps, only to stagger to their knees, retching as the air around them turned into a toxic swamp of rotten eggs, sewage, and pure misery in scent form.

After one too many complaints, Martin was forced to banish Alex’s to farting in a storage closet in the back of the store, the only place where his biological warfare wouldn’t drive away potential business .

One slow afternoon, Martin was watching the security cameras when he noticed a young man who looked to be in his early twentys stuffing candy into his pockets. As Martin moved in to confront him, the thief made a break for the exit, sprinting toward the door in a desperate attempt to escape.

At that exact moment, Alex was making his way back from lunch, his stomach packed full of a whole rotisserie chicken, a family-sized bag of chips, and 3 slices of pizza. As he walked, he could feel something brewing deep inside him, a gargantuan, unruly fart that he knew would get him in trouble if he wasn’t careful. His gut gurgled ominously, and he clenched as best as he could, waddling toward his designated farting closet before WHAM!

The fleeing thief while turning a corner in his mad dash to escape accidentally ran face-first into the sweaty, musky expanse of Alex’s rear, his nose wedging deep into the humid crevice of the giant’s ass cheeks which wobbled a bit with the impact.

“STOP HIM!” Martin yelled.

Alex grinned. A wicked idea formed in his mind.

Before the thief could pull away from the suffocating wall of smelly muscle and heat, Alex grabbed the back of his head and held him in place. Then, he let everything go.

The sound was deep a blast that echoed through the store like a foghorn easily over powering the cheesy pop music playing over the speaker system. It went on for over a minute a continuous, unrelenting stream of thick, muggy gas.

The effect was immediate.

The thief thrashed and gagged, his body convulsing as the rancid stench invaded his lungs. His panicked gasps only sucked in more of the toxic air. The smell and heat were beyond comprehension a vile, humid concoction of rotting meat,week-old garbage baked in a furnace and the the natural ass funk of a smelly 9ft tall giant, His struggles grew weaker until, at last, his limp body crumpled against Alex’s rear.

Satisfied, Alex released his grip, letting the unconscious thief drop to the floor in a heap. Casually, he grabbed the back of the man’s shirt and hoisted him up holding him in mid air with little effort.

By the time Martin arrived, his eyes were already watering, his throat tightening as the lingering stench wrapped around him. He fought the urge to gag, waving a hand in front of his nose as he stared at the thief’s motionless body.

Through a strained cough, he managed, Nice work Alex.

Alex beamed with pride.

Martin took one last look at the unconscious man, then at the towering employee standing before him. A slow smile spread across his face.

“You know what?” he said, pinching his nose shut as he spoke. “I think you just earned yourself a raise.” Martin was about to call the police when Alex spoke up.

"Hold on. Why not just hire him?"

Martin stared. What?"

Alex smirked. I could use someone to mess without consequences all my other co-workers around here complain too much when I fart on them.

The thief, barely conscious, groaned. Faced with a potential fine for petty theft or a decent paying job with the only downside being that he had to be Alex’s willing victim, croaked "I’ll take the job."

"Good choice," Alex said smiling mischievously, from then on the new hire was quickly accustomed to the musk of Alex’s ass and the stomach churning smell of his gas as Alex routinely became accustomed to forcing the man's face between his cheeks whenever he needed to realese a fart. Safe to say the new guy spend more time sniffing farts than stocking shelves, mabye he should've just paid the fine...

[strangecreaturewrites]

⟢ i won't leave you ⊹⠀ ﾟ ˖

mickey x f!reader ⊹ as an expendable, it was mickey barnes' duty to die as many times as deemed necessary. this time, you were there with him. warnings: discussion of death and grief. please use your discretion before reading. ( i have part 2 to this in the works, i just can't finish it tonight because i'm watching the new daredevil ep in a bit. this fic idea wouldn't leave me alone though. i love hurt/comfort and angst, and this part definitely brings the hurt, so i won't leave you hanging on the comfort for very long. also mickey x nasha are the couple of all time, but i would have to see the movie again to write this from their perspective. i think the inspiration is pretty clear though, so i wouldn't read this if you haven't seen the movie or read the book yet. anyway... thank you for reading <3 )

You chose to spend the next day in bed. The concept of PTO didn’t exist on the station — claiming a sick day raised more alarms than they were worth if you weren’t gravely ill — but people didn’t make it a habit to argue with you. So, when you said they could find someone else to cover your shift or go fuck themselves… well, that was that, wasn’t it?

Another concept that didn’t exist on the station in a way that mattered: getting fired. A person could yell and scream at their superior and then show up for their next shift, and as long as Marshall didn’t deem them a threat (to him, to his optics, to his vision), business went on as usual. Your rations might get cut for a while, sure. You might get locked up for a bit if you got too dramatic. But what did that matter in the long run? It was all the same torture.

For some more than others on this frozen rock, work being a kind of torture actually meant something.

You choked on your next breath, and you turned your face into the pillow as tears welled up in your eyes once more.

The worst part was that they didn’t understand, and it was impossible to explain it in a way that made sense to them. Them being everyone. The lab workers, your superiors, Timo, everyone.

“You’re so upset, and for what?” Timo said to you in the cafeteria. What was the tail-end of last night for you was a brand new morning for him. “He’s being reprinted as we speak. In a few hours, we’ll have our boy back.”

You could’ve slapped him. Normally, you would have. It was a testament to the enormity of the pain coursing through you that you didn’t.

Our boy. What a load of shit.

“I held him as he died, you asshole,” you seethed. Timo scoffed and resumed eating, an awkward silence settling between the two of you. You knew the bastard wouldn’t apologize, and you wouldn’t say anything else about it.

To your credit, you held it together fairly well immediately afterward. You climbed out of the tank and took off the biohazard suit. You let the medics look you over until you snapped at them to back off — you were fine — and you pretended to listen to the lab workers as they explained how important their work was and how you’d be seeing Mickey again before you knew it. That bumbling lead scientist was at your heels from the tank all the way to the door; you told him to shut his fucking mouth as you left.

You were numb. To everyone else, it looked like anger. Inside, you were roiling. Reeling. Shocked.

From the very beginning, you forced yourself to make peace with Mickey’s position as an Expendable. You had to if you were going to be involved with him, romantically, sexually — honestly, in any way. He quickly became your best friend, your lover, your favorite person, and you had to accept that every so often, he would die. And over time, you really did manage to grow accustomed to this brand of strangeness. (Humans really were remarkably adaptable creatures.) Maybe because there had been a routine to it: he would get an assignment, kiss you goodbye, disappear for a handful of hours, and then he would be back, a little tired, very hungry, and looking to be held until the funk from the printer wore off.

This time was different. You were there. You looked into his eyes, and you weren’t sure if he saw you. You stroked his cheek, and you knew he couldn’t feel you; his skin was so red and raw, how could his brain process any sensation besides pain? You talked to him the whole time, told him that you were there, that you wouldn’t leave him, that it would be over soon.

‘Soon’ ended up being a relative term, and though you knew him better, part of you worried he would remember your reassurances as cruel nonsense, spoken by someone who had no idea…

That’s what all the experiments were: cruel nonsense.

Your shock, your numbness, melted into incredulity.

You held him as he died. He stopped moving. Stopped breathing. How did a person cope with witnessing that?

For everyone else, the death of their loved ones was permanent. They mourned, and eventually their lives grew around the grief. You wouldn’t have grief. You would have terror. Would you be there to hold him when he died again? How could you possibly handle it? Leaving wouldn’t be an option, even knowing what you knew now. But what would it do to you, the second time around? The third?

The answers didn’t matter right now. You were in the interim between the last Mickey and the next one. Even being as perturbed as you were, you could recognize your good fortune. How lucky you were, to only be alone for a handful of hours, to know you would touch him again in less than a day.

Exhaustion seeped into your bones, and discomfort set in as you noticed the sensation of the cold, tear-soaked pillowcase against your temple, your cheek. You got out of bed, ran some water, and wiped your face clean. You dried your skin, brushed your teeth, and stripped to your underwear.

The last thing you remembered doing was flipping the pillow to the dry side. You didn’t even remember laying back down.

As the saying goes, you slept like the dead.

✧ part two ‧ ₊ ˚ .

[reds-hoodies]

Blink and You’ll Miss It

Tags: Jason Todd X GN!Reader, Soulmate AU

Word Count: ~750

Author’s Note: a little break from smut lol and also I’m sorry if this isn’t the best! I’ve been in a pretty bad funk lately

This hasn’t been proofread so please lmk if there’s anything wrong!

Edit: fixed some grammar and stuff lol

Next

Your day had gone about as well as you expected: Terribly.

It was one inconvenience after another, each one chipping away at the last bit of patience you had left. Now that your day was done, the exhaustion weighed down on you heavy and unrelenting.

You just needed to get home to your tiny, dingy studio apartment, where you could collapse into bed. Maybe even eat something.

The subway car lurched as it rounded a bend, the overhead lights flickering in time with the rhythmic clatter of the tracks. You were stood near the window, hands gripping the cold metal pole for balance, staring at your reflection in the glass.

Your own tired eyes stared back at you.

Then, movement. A shift in the darkness outside the window.

Your gaze flickered past your reflection to the tunnel wall beyond, except the concrete suddenly ended and an opening revealed another train running parallel to yours.

That’s when you saw him.

A man, standing near the window of the other train, looking directly at you.

For a moment, neither of you moved. His eyes were wide, mirroring your own shock. Maybe you should look away. Maybe he should. But neither of you did.

The world around you hushed. The hum of the subway, the distant chatter of passengers, the screech of metal on metal— it all faded into silence. As if the universe itself was holding its breath.

And then, color.

Soft at first, like water bleeding into ink. Then bolder, richer, unstoppable. It spread across your vision, washing over everything in waves, bringing the world to life in ways you’d never imagined.

The dull subway lights turned golden, the worn fabric of the seats now a deep blue, the flickering advertisements flashing red and green. The very air around you felt warmer, alive.

But none of it compared to the color in his eyes.

They were the epicenter of it all, like the first spark before a wildfire. Bright, breathtaking, and impossibly mesmerizing.

Your breath caught in your throat.

His lips parted slightly, as if he was about to say something, but the trains rattled forward, moving out of sync.

No..!

You took a step closer to the window, but it was too late. The tunnel walls swallowed the other train whole, the colors lingering in your vision even as the world around you dulled backed to the muted grey’s once more.

The subway rattled on while your heart hammered in your chest, your breath shallow.

That had to be your soulmate, it had to be. He had been right there. Close enough to see, close enough to reach for if only the glass hadn’t been in the way!

And now he’s gone.

But that brief moment had changed everything.

The train’s brakes screeched as it slowed into the station, jostling you forward. Had you not taken this route so many times before, you might have missed your stop, but habit guided your steps. It carried you up through the crowded station, your body moving on autopilot even as your mind remained trapped in the memory of the stranger.

His face lingered like an afterimage, every detail seared into your thoughts: The striking white streak in his dark hair, the sharp cut of his jaw, the scar on his cheek. And, again, his eyes…

The way his gaze had locked onto yours, startled yet intense, like he felt the same gravitational pull you had.

And though the hoodie he wore was baggy, you could tell he was broad-shouldered, strong. What did he do for a living?

But, more importantly: How were you going to find him again?

Questions fluttered through your mind like restless birds, each one more urgent than the last. If fate had been kind enough to show him to you, surely it wouldn’t just take him away.

Right?

At the top of the station stairs, you stopped.

Your fingers curled into fists as you made up your mind. You were going to find him.

How?

Well, you weren’t sure yet. But you waited your whole life to meet your soulmate and damn if you’re just going to let him slip through your fingers.

Next

[coldfanbou]

A Night Out

New chapter for the mommy series. Sana shows us her way to get out of a funk, so we'll see what comes out of it.

Length 3.3K

Sana X Jeongyeon X Mreader (featuring Nayeon)

Previous Part

Next Part

You wake up a couple of hours later, still a little early for work, but you need to get some new clothes from home. You nudge Dahyun awake, “Dahyun, I need to get some new clothes from home. I’ll come back to pick you up after I get dressed and take a shower.”

Dahyun clings to you, reluctant to let you go. “Just a few more minutes, please.” 

“I’ll pick us up some food.” You whisper into her ear. 

“Mmm, fine, but you better come back quickly.” Dahyun rubs her head into your chest one more time before letting you go. You put on your clothes from the previous day and head out. Your drive home is quick, and the lack of traffic in the early hours of the morning provides you with extra time. After showering, you wear a new suit and drive to Dahyun’s home, stopping to get food. You grab some extra, a sign of your concern for Jeongyeon. As you reach the exit, you hold the door for a group of women. They were sweaty from a run, by the looks of it. They thanked you as they passed by; at the end of the line was a face you recognized. 

Sana recognized you, too. “Oh, it's…nice to see you again.” She stops in her tracks. “How’s Jeongyeon?”

“Hi, Sana. Jeongyeon’s not doing so well; her husband has been cheating on her.”

Sana’s jaw drops, her eyes widening in shock. “What did you say?”

“I guess she found out yesterday because she didn’t come to work. She’s been with Nayeon this whole time. It would be nice if you could visit her.”

Sana blinks quickly and swallows her spit. “Are you going to see her right now?”

“Yeah, I’m going to take her some food before heading to work.”

“I’m coming with you.” Sana's voice was firm, and her determination to visit Jeongyeon was evident. She tells the other women she’s leaving, earning her oohs from them. “It’s not like that!” She clarifies as she heads out with you. While driving, you notice Sana tapping her feet incessantly on the floor. She was anxious and worried about her friend. You speed up getting her there quickly. Together, you head to Nayeon’s apartment and knock on the door. You wait a few minutes, but she eventually comes to the door. 

“Hello? Oh, it’s you.” Nayeon pauses as she notices Sana with you. “Sana? What are you doing here?” 

“He told me the situation. Now let me in.” Sana pushes her way inside Nayeon’s home, leaving you standing outside.  

“I brought you guys some food.” You tell Nayeon when she looks back at you. 

“Thank you. I’ll handle this; you should get to work.” Nayeon grabs the food you offered and pats your chest with her other hand. “Really, thank you.” She heads back inside, and you return to Dahyun. 

Sana looked around for Jeongyeon inside the apartment, surmising she would be in the bedroom. She found Jeongyeon burying her face in a pillow, sleeping. Nayeon came in soon after. “She’s still asleep. She cried all night, but I think she’s getting over the worst of it.” Nayeon pulls Sana away and brings her into the kitchen. “Jeongyeon’s a bit of a mess right now. It’s been hard to get her to do anything.”

Sana stays silent as she thinks about what Jeongyeon must be going through. “That bastard. I should beat him until-”

“Sana, calm down. We should focus on Jeongyeon.”

“Jeongyeon gave up everything for that jerk, though. She wanted to do so many things but gave it all up to support him,” Sana responds. 

“I know, but the best we can do is help her through this.” Nayeon passes Sana some of the food you bought. “Here, we can share this. The rest can go to Jeongyeon when she wakes up.” 

“I’m awake,” Jeongyeon says quietly as she stumbles through the doorway into the kitchen. Jeongyeon’s eyes were red and puffy from last night. “Hi, Sana.”

“Hi, Jeongie,” Sana replies before standing up to hug her friend. “How are you feeling?” Jeongyeon replied with a low hum, indicating she wasn’t feeling good. “Jeongyeon, I know you’re going through a lot, but how about we go out? I’ll call everyone. It’ll be the first time we’ve all been together in a while. We need to get your mind off all this.” The three consider this option further inside as they share their meal.

You head inside Dahyun’s apartment to find her walking around naked. When you open the door, you scare the daylights out of her; she squats down and covers herself. “Why didn’t you say knock!?” She cries out.

“Why are you naked?”

“It’s my home!” She yells back, still cowering in the middle of the room. Dahyun grabs the closest thing she can, in this case, a seat cushion, and throws it at you before scurrying away into her room. You head to the dining area and lay the food out, waiting for Dahyun to return. 

“Come on, Dahyun. The food is going to get cold.” Soon enough, Dahyun comes out dressed in her pajamas and with a sleepy Eunsoo. The baby rubs her eyes with balled fists and yawns. You catch Dahyun’s smile as she catches it. 

“Eunsoo, are you still sleepy? Does mommy need to give you five more minutes?” Eunsoo nods her head involuntarily. She was nodding off, unable to keep her head up.  Dahyun gives you a small smile. “I’ll be right back. I thought she would be awake enough.” Dahyun returns a moment later and sits beside you. She shyly looks at you and scoots her chair closer. “Hey, can you feed some?” When you glance at her, Dahyun turns away. You pick at the food, a wicked smile growing as you pick up a large spoonful of the breakfast. Dahyun gives you a skeptical look, wondering what you were thinking. 

“You've had bigger things in your mouth.” You tell her. Dahyun is shocked by your words; you get closer to Dahyun. “Don’t you remember last night, slut?” You ask teasingly.

Dahyun’s shocked expression turns into a frown, “Don’t say things like that.” She whines before taking some of the food from your spoon. 

“Okay, I won’t say anything like that unless we’re having fun.”  The meal you shared with Dahyun was quick, and she’s soon preparing for the work day. As you and Dahyun head out, you see Sana stepping out of Nayeon’s apartment. You both meet at the exit, and Sana stops you. “Jeongyeon is doing a little better now. We’re going to take her out. She and Nayeon wanted me to thank you for the food you brought.” You give Sana a nod and leave for work with Dahyun. The day is uneventful, and after dropping off Dahyun at her home, you finally get some time for yourself. You lay in bed, resting your eyes.

Your peace and quiet was disrupted late in the night. Rowdy voices could be heard on the other side of your door. You see a group of familiar faces as you cheek through the peephole. Sana, Nayeon, and Jeongyeon were all together, leaning against each other for support as they swayed from side to side. You open the door for them, “What are you all doing here?” 

“Hey you,” Sana giggles. Can we come inside?” You take a deep breath and step aside. The three women stumble inside, with Sana falling on her side. Jeongyeon and Nayeon break out into laughter, falling themselves. 

The scent of alcohol coming from the group is fierce. “How much did you all drink, and why did you come to my house of all places?”

“Jeongyeon wanted to come visit you,” Sana says with a big grin on her face, her words slurred into barely intelligible speech.

“I think you should all just get some rest,” you say, grabbing Sana’s hands and pulling her onto her feet. You pull Nayeon and Jeongyeon up and corral the three women to your room. They throw themselves onto your bed, lying back and giggling away. You’re a little disappointed your night wouldn’t be as peaceful as you thought. You head to the nightstand by the table to grab your phone when Sana pulls you into them. You land on Jeongyeon, placing your hands on either side of her head to stop yourself.  

Before you could react, Sana reached into your shorts, grabbing your cock. “I need something big and hard. You do, too, right girls?” You grunt, feeling Sana’s hand slide along your shaft. Jeongyeon leans up, kissing your neck while Nayeon watches the scene unfold, her hand sliding down her stomach and under her skirt until she reaches her slit.

You break away from Jeongyeon’s nipping and kiss her. She wraps her arms around you, pressing her lips against your harshly. Her grip was firm as if scared to let you go. Your hands run along her sides, squeezing her soft flesh as Sana’s hand runs along your shaft. “Do you like that? It would feel a lot nicer inside, something warm.”  Sana pulls your shorts down enough for your cock to be on full display to the women. “Nice and big,” Precum coats Sana’s hand as she strokes your cock. She places her head between Jeongyeon’s lap and your pelvis, her tongue taking minor licks at the tip. Wrapping her lips around the head, Sana swirls her tongue around your cock. Reveling in the pleasure, your hands wander Jeongyeon's upper body, pulling her button-down shirt open and groping her tits. Her soft mounds melt into your hands as you squeeze them through her bra. Jeongyeon moans into your kiss, her hands moving to your shoulders, gently holding them as she pushes you away to catch her breath. More moans flow from her as you pull down her bra and play with her nipples. Her bra causes her tits to be pressed together. While you pinch and pull on her left nub, you use your other hand to hold Sana’s head in place as you push more of your cock into her. Sana tenses her muscles around your cock, tightening her throat. You moan; the sensation sent shivers down your spine.

Nayeon watched on the side of the bed, her hand inside her panties and fingers rubbing her clit. She hadn’t expected this when the others gave the idea to come here, but she wasn’t going to complain. Nayeon moved away from the group, setting herself up in the corner of the room as she fingered herself. 

You reached around Jeongyeon, undoing her bra and getting it off her before planting kisses between her breasts. She cooed, running her hands through your hair as she seemed to relax. Glancing at her face, you notice how flush she is.  You move up to her neck and whisper, “How are you going to want it?” You gently pinch Jeongyeon’s nipple between your pointer finger and thumb, “Soft?” You pull on it, “Or rough?” 

“I don’t care. I just want you.” You give her a mischievous grin before latching onto her neck and marking her with a hickey. You pause your actions and grunt. You were getting close to cumming from Sana’s blowjob. You pushed her head forward and thrust your hips as your cock began to throb, dumping your cum down her throat. Your eyes follow her body, finding that Sana was vigorously rubbing her clit. You kept your cock buried inside Sana until you finished cumming. As you pulled out, you rubbed your saliva-covered cock on her face. You felt Sana’s lips against your shaft; she was doing her best to kiss it as you directed her.

You pull away from the women to strip Jeongyeon of her pants. In the meantime, Sana decided to spread the wealth, kissing Jeongyeon and letting her have a taste of your cum. Their tongues explored the other's mouth; Jeongyeon did her best to steal away as much of your cum as possible. She held onto Sana’s head. The younger woman began stripping herself, pushing her skirt and panties off her lower half. When the kiss was broken, she threw off her shirt and bra. 

With her panties gone, too, you slid your cock between Jeongyeon’s folds, and in time, her nectar covered your cock. She let out light moans that grew louder as Sana squeezed her tits. “These feel so full, Jeongie. I want a taste,” Sana said with a smirk before diving in and attaching herself to one of Jeongyeon’s tits, suckling on them to get at her milk. You heard Sana’s enthusiastic moans as she drank the precious liquid.

You glanced up, noticing Nayeon in the corner. You kept an eye on the woman, seeing how she groped herself through her clothing and stretched her panties as she fingered yourself. Having someone watch the action was exciting, and you thought that either Sana or Jeongyeon would enjoy it. You hedged your bets and decided Sana would enjoy it much more. You dragged Sana’s body over Jeongyeon and adjusted yourself so Sana would be looking straight at Nayeon. Grabbing Sana’s waist, you plunge deep into her cunt in one movement. Her Jaw drops, and a loud roar rings out of her as you treat her roughly. Sana locks eyes with Nayeon, watching the older woman masturbate to her getting fucked. It seemed like you were right. Sana got tighter as she realized Nayeon was going to be watching her. You spanked Sana whenever she looked away from the older woman, forcing her to keep eye contact. She bit her bottom lip, loving the attention she was getting. Jeongyeon, while she waited for her turn, was playing with Sana’s tits. The modest mounds were being squeezed and toyed with in the same manner Sana had been earlier. 

You felt Sana’s walls tighten around your cock, and enjoyed every second of it. Each thrust of yours pushed your cock deeper into Sana until every inch was being buried inside her. Sana’s cunt was being stretched by you, and she was loving it. Every thrust brought a louder moan and pleas for more. You gave Sana what she wanted, thrusting faster and faster, moving like a piston, with the sound of your bodies colliding only being drowned out by her moans. You gave Sana a slight reprieve by not spanking her when Jeongyeon pulled her into a kiss.  The younger woman reached for Jeongyeon’s tits, squeezing the heavy mound for the moment she was given to please someone else. Soon enough, though, Sana was nearing her climax. 

Nayeon could hear Sana’s cries of pleasure; the pure bliss on Sana’s face gave her more than enough information, too. She watched as Sana’s arms gave out, and her face fell beside Jeongyeon’s. Her back was arched, and each thrust pushed her further into the bed. Sana’s cunt tightened around you as she came. She forced your orgasm, and her cunt greedily took every drop of your cum. From where Nayeon was standing, she could just barely see your cum drip out of Sana’s pussy as she kept her ass in the air. Your cum splattered onto Jeongyeon’s pelvis, running between her legs and over her folds. You weren’t going to leave Jeongyeon alone for much longer. You didn’t tease her this time, instead pushing the head in slowly to listen to her groans.

As each inch went inside, you heard her moans get louder, “You’re so big.” You moved Sana to the side before grabbing Jeongyeon’s waist and pulling her closer. Jeongyeon played with her tits as your eyes looked her over. The woman before you had her eyes shut and was solely focused on the pleasure she felt. You began thrusting slowly, giving you the stability to lean over Jeongyeon and drag your tongue along her neck. She groaned, enjoying the sensation of your rough tongue moving along her skin. You squeezed Jeongyeon’s other tit, watching it jiggle in your hands when you gave it a little shake. When you kissed Jeongyeon, she wrapped her arms around you, gently at first, as she held you closely. “Make me forget,” She whispered into your ear, seemingly not wanting Nayeon or Sana to hear. 

“Okay, Jeongyeon.” You reply before lifting her lower body and increasing the strength and speed of your thrusts. You put Jeongyeon into a mating press and began to use her like a toy, flooding her senses with pure pleasure. Jeongyeon’s cries of pleasure filled the room, getting Nayeon closer to cumming. This entire time, she had been fingering herself, slowly losing more of her clothing. She was in her bra and panties. She could hardly control herself at this point, playing with her clit, and her voice beginning to match Jeongyeon’s. You felt Jeongyeon’s walls clamp down on your cock, making it a little more challenging to pull out for the next thrust, but you loved it. You heard Nayeon cry out first; glancing over at her, you watched her lean forward, her nectar soaking her panties before running down her legs. Jeongyeon and you came at the same time. Your cum flooded her womb before spilling out and onto her stomach. Having Jeongyeon’s lower body raised created a momentary mess. One that Sana was more than happy to clean up as she recovered. She licked Jeongyeon clean, going as far as to eat her out. The three of you continued the night, having sex with Nayeon, playing the part of a voyeur.

The following day, you woke up in bed with Sana and Jeongyeon on either side of you. Nayeon had found herself holding onto Sana. You weren’t the only one awake for long, as Nayeon woke up next. “Oh, my head. What happened?” She groaned, rubbing her head.

“You all drank too much.” You reply in the middle of the mass of bodies. 

“What are you doing here?” Nayeon yelled, grabbing a blanket to cover her naked form. The yell inadvertently woke the others up, too.

“No yelling, please. I have the biggest headache.” Sana said. 

“You all came to my house.”

“What did we do?” Nayeon said, almost too afraid to ask. 

“Do you want to hear the whole story?” Nayeon gave you a hesitant nod. The women listened to your story of the previous night.

Sana was more than alright with the outcome. “I remember a little bit of it all. It’s mostly the feeling of that cock in me.” She said, feeling some of your cum between her legs.

“This is so embarrassing. At least it wasn’t with a stranger.” Jeongyeon said, burying her face on a pillow.

“Now that it’s been mentioned, Nayeon, why didn’t you join us last night? You just watched,” Sana asked, turning to the older woman. Nayeon didn’t have an answer ready for her, though. “Do you like to watch people?”

“N-NO!” Nayeon yelled. “I must’ve done something last night.”

“Yeah, you fingered yourself to us.” Sana retorts with a laugh. You slip away from the women, telling them you’re going to the bathroom. You could hear Sana teasing Nayeon from outside the room. It was a little funny to you. 

You took your time in the bathroom, needing just a moment of peace. When you came out, you found the women standing outside, lined up. “We need to borrow your shower. We’ll be out of your hair after.” Sana said, leading them inside. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, hoping they will leave soon; you have to get to work. Looking at your phone, you see that you have a few messages from Jihyo and some from an unknown number. You’d deal with those after you got your shower.

[thoughtfulfiction]

Social Media QB

Author’s note: reposting my old work on this side blog! Let me know if you’d like to read a specific one. Thank you for reading!

The reputation of the Chargers social media team was unmatched. They are known for being funny and up to date on all memes and pop culture references while also showcasing players’ personalities. That alone made you apply and this past year on the job had really been a once in a lifetime experience. Working with Megan and the crew was a daily adventure and you were becoming more and more comfortable calling the guys your friends. It even got to a point where you didn’t even call them by their names anymore.

Quentin was usually just “Q.” JK was always “J’Kaylin”, Derwin was “3” and your favorite nickname was definitely calling Justin “Sunshine.” At first it was a Remember the Titans reference but it became a lifestyle. Everything and everyone revolves around the sun and that’s exactly what it felt like when you were at work. All of the players were important and special but you could just feel the energy in the room shift when Justin was there. It was palpable, it almost took your breath away sometimes.

Off camera he was goofy, funny and had this uncanny ability to make the world stand still for a bit, even just for a few fleeting moments where it felt like you two were the only ones in the room. But then reality would hit and you were reminded that you work for the team and he’d never see you in that way, he was just nice to everyone he encountered. But on camera? It was all fun and games. There was a running joke, mostly based on his real feelings, that Justin hated cameras. He couldn’t stand being the center of attention or having people perceive him so he avoided the social media team altogether when phones were pointed in his direction. 

But sometimes, a rarity, you were able to get him on camera, even if it was just for a split second. The two of you reviewed the questions he was going to be asked before their Hot Ones appearance and there was ALWAYS a discussion, more like subtle begging if you all were going to have him participate in any content.

“We need Justin for this new segment we’re doing, so you’re gonna have to talk to him.” Megan sighs, grabbing her Stanley cup that was sitting on the counter. She’d just finished editing a video where she and her assistant put fart spray on the tiny mic and could still smell the rancid scent until she grabbed some Lysol spray to de-funk the place.

You were going through photos taken during practice earlier that morning and deciding which ones to post and without looking up you asked her, “why do I have to do it?”

Lorren and Allie giggle in the corner, shaking their heads. “You cannot be serious right now y/n,” Lorren gives you a pointed look.

“What?”

“We all know you and Justin have a thing for each other. Even if you won’t admit to us…or yourself. It’s pretty obvious.”

You finally raise your head up from your laptop, staring at them while also wracking your brain trying to figure out when your innocent crush had become so painfully obvious. If the girls knew, then Justin had probably somehow caught on and the thought of that made you want to dig a hole right outside on the practice field and never come out. “Is—am I that easy to read?”

“No one blames you,” Megan runs a loving hand on your shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ve been trying so hard to hide your feelings that you haven’t noticed that he’s doing an even worse job of hiding his massive crush on you.”

The look on your face sends the room into a fit of laughter. “We’re being serious. The way he looks at you and acts around you. Anyone can see he’s into you friend.”

You weren’t convinced, “I need an example.”

“Okay fine,” Lorren stands up to prepare a demonstration. “He wasn’t ready to put the mics on when he was mic’d up until you walked over and helped him get the mic in the perfect spot in his pads. And then he wore the friendship bracelet for six weeks because you handed it to him.”

Allie pipes up to put in her two cents. “And let’s not forget when he had you driving him around the golf tournament and kicked Zion to the curb. There’s no way all of those are just a coincidence.”

“Fine. I’ll go ask him if he’ll shoot the video for us but I’m not going to lose my job because of a meaningless crush on the starting quarterback.”

You waited around for the guys to leave treatment after practice and caught up with him on his way out. “Hey Sunshine, quick question for you.”

His cheeks turn a light shade of pink and he gives you a small tight-lipped smile. “What’s up?”

“I need you to do me a huge favor and be in this tik tok. It’s a short game and it’ll only take like 15 minutes.”

His deadpan face and disappointed dad sigh has you practically begging, saying “please” in your finest sing-song tone.

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You knew he’d crack, he always did. “On one condition. You also have to participate.”

You hold your hand out and he engulfs it with his much larger one. “You’ve got yourself a deal Herbert.”

“Okay the rules of the game are simple,” Megan begins from behind her phone screen before hitting record, “we’re going to give you these Canadian snacks and you’ll rate them on a scale from 1 to 10. One being it’s awful I’ll never touch that again and 10 being a solid snack that you’d eat everyday if given the opportunity.”

You and Justin nod, diving in on everything from the ketchup chips to the toffee. The video didn’t take long as promised and the quarterback went about the rest of his day with no further distractions.

In your office a few days later on the team’s off day, you were contemplating your life. Maybe you should take a step back from him so people don't get the wrong idea. Sure, your coworkers were convinced the crush was mutual but what if he was just being nice? He was always so focused on football and making the most out of every opportunity. Why in the world would he waste time flirting with a social media manager? It just made no sense. Instead of continuing to run a million imaginary scenarios in your mind you packed up your stuff and tried heading out to the parking lot. Even after all this time you still struggled to maneuver all the twists and turns of the building and somehow found yourself walking past the quarterback room. You intended to just keep walking but he was in there alone and called out your name when he saw you.

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think anyone would be in the building today.” His bright eyes staring down at you made your heart feel like it was beating out of your chest. You desperately needed to get it together.

“I came in to finish up a few things but I’m heading out now. What are you doing? I think you’ve watched enough film to last you a couple lifetimes.” That gets a light chuckle out of him and he shakes his head, the two of you knowing that his quest for perfection would never allow him to believe he’s watched enough film. “Thank you for shooting that video the other day. The fans are gonna love it, they’re always begging us to get you on camera.”

“No problem, anything for you.” He clears his throat after whispering the last part, desperately hoping that you didn’t hear it. Even though you definitely did. You should go home for the day and leave him alone in the office so he can get back to work. You should stop staring at his lips that look so soft and just begging to be kissed. He should turn around and get back to the playbook and the computer but here he is, standing still, right in front of you.

You’re just there, waiting for someone to rip the carpet out from under you, to fall on your face, for someone to tell you that this isn’t actually happening. The space between your bodies diminishes significantly, so much so that you can smell the Dr. Squatch Birchwood Breeze radiating off of him. It’s intoxicating and you swallow the fear in your gut and ignore all of the common sense thoughts plaguing your mind, allowing you to feel.

The kiss is tentative at first, he pulls back slightly, whispering if it’s okay to keep going as you feel his breath against your lips. You don’t respond but instead pull him in closer, hearing a satisfied husky moan from him as he allows your tongue access to his. His right palm rests against your cheek until he’s tilting your head up ever so slightly to deepen the embrace and he pulls you in even closer, holding on for dear life while closing and locking the door behind you. It was so much more than he imagined, these feelings that he’d been pushing aside were being confronted and magnified by the second. This innocent crush that you had on him were genuine, real feelings that created a deep ache in your bones, actively being soothed with his hands all over you as the two of you made out like helpless teenagers.

You didn’t think you’d have the strength to tear yourself away from him…until his phone rings. He ignores it the first time but it’s all you can think about by the fifth ring.

“Answer it,” you whisper breathlessly and you can feel him hesitating to pry himself away from you. The heat that was radiating off of his body that you felt being so close to him sends shivers down your spine at the sudden distance. A thousand unspoken apologies are painted on his face as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. He keeps the call short and sweet but the look of devastation is clear when he hangs up. “You have to go don’t you?”

He nods. “I’m so sorry. We can—we need to talk about this I know. And I promise we will. I just—I need to take care of this.” He doesn’t want to leave, not like this. Even if he knows you understand. Justin presses a kiss to the side of your head and whispers another “I’m sorry” leaving you in the room to think about what just happened.

You walk around the empty parking lot until you reach your car, letting out a deep sigh at the thought of what the conversation with him is going to look like after this. You need to be mentally prepared for good news, bad news and everything in between.

He is the sun after all. And sometimes when you stand too close, you might get burned. And maybe, just maybe, you’d avoid the burn altogether and bask in the warmth as long as you can.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA - How they comfort you - I

Dedicated to my dear friend @marsoverthestars.

Summary: Your peers notice you've hit a rough patch lately and want to help.

Warnings: Pure fluff, comfort, mentions of depression, mentions of unhealthy habits.

It was no secret: you were going through it. Life was ju8st currently putting you through the wringer and you were beginning to feel like a damp, laundered rag. Due to having a quirk heavily affected by your emotions, every soul around you could feel your upset, as if your depressive mood chipped the very paint off the walls. Luckily for you, they know just the trick to help you out of your funk!

Yuga Aoyama:

"Out of bed, mon amie." Yuga chirped, letting himself into your room, throwing the curtains open. You hissed at the sudden flood of light.

"Aoyama, shut the curtains!" you protested, pulling your comforter over your head and rolling over.

"Not today, cheri," He persisted, tearing your covers from you.

"You've been locked away in this dungeon for far too long, my dear, and I'm afraid you're beginning to smell." He smirked, pulling you out of bed by your wrist, forcefully but with care.

"Gee, thanks..." you grumbled, rubbing your eyes, nonchalantly sniffing your underarm before wincing. "Fuck, I do smell."

"Langauge, amie," He reminded, sifting through your dresser. "But yes, you do, and worse than that, you're loosing your sparkle and that simply won't do." He stood straight, a bundle of clothes in his arms, smiling warmly. "For this time only, I will grant you access to my luxury bath salts, so make sure and enjoy them while you can."

He shooed you out of your own room, shoving your clothes into your arms. "No off with you, towels warm and the bathwater is boiling. Go take care of yourself, darling."

Mina Ashido:

Mina hadn't seen any sign of you in days, worrying her to bits. She knew you tended to seclude yourself when you were down, and she did try to respect that. She'd comb through TikTok, bombarding your inbox with memes, edits of your favorite characters, and 'us' slideshows, but when you would simply heart them (if you responded at all), she couldn't take it anymore.

"(Y/N), are you in there?" She asked cautiously from the hall, knocking softly. "Can I come in, please? I miss you!"

You trudge to the door, wrapped in melancholy and a stale blanket. "What is it, Mina?" To your surprise, she threw her arms around you, tearing up as she saw your disheveled state.

"Whatever it is, I'm sorry!" she lamented, squeezing you tightly. "Whatever is bothering you, we can talk about it, please don't shut yourself away from me!" You'd never seen her so upset outside of battle. She was typically so bubbly, was she that concerned. "Everyone's so worried about you..."

"M-Me...?"" you repeat, not having realized how important you were to others.

"Please, if you won't come out, at least let me in..." she begged, pulling back with an earnest look, onyx scaleras glistening with worry. To her relief and yous, you relented, letting her inside.

Tsuyu Asui:

Tsu had noticed you withdrawing from your peers long before you actually had. First, you wouldn't talk as much in class, then you began eating lunch alone and declining invites out, and then, one day, you disappeared entirely.

She wasn't entirely sure how to go about comforting you, but it was obvious to her you were having a hard time. At first, she just left you alone, thinking you might have needed space, but then she began to wonder if there was something more she could do. Then it came to her, she was a big sister, she was so good at giving comfort to others. She'd just do for you what she'd do her her siblings.

"You you like a hug, ribbit?" the question caught you off guard as you stood in the kitchen, drink in hand, one of the rare occasions you left your room.

"What?"

"I've noticed you've been having a hard time, would you like a hug, ribbit?" She asked, offering you her arms. "I know being part frog, I'm a little awkward to hug, but when my little siblings were upset, I'd-" You didn't care how her slouched back back it odd for you to do it, you wrapped your arms around her, tears streamiong down your face.

"Yes, a hug would be wonderful, Tsu..." you answered with a sniffle. "Thank you." She happily enveloped you in a warm embrace, stroking her thumbs over your shoulders.

"Happy to help, ribbit," she beamed, resting her head on your shoulder. "I'm happy to give you as many hugs as you like, anytime you like..."

Tenya Iida:

Tenya was smart, obviously, but he was still a novice when it came to relationships with his peers and handling interactions. That's why when you began skipping class, he, as class president took it upon himself to hand deliver your homework, along with a stern talking to about attendance. That earned him a door slamming in his face, to nobody's suprise.

Now he knows better. Though it goes against his morals, he cuts you slack, visiting you every day briefly. Papers slide under your door in stacks. Neatly written notes, mock tests, and graded homework, all with nothing less than A's. You haven't done your homework in a week. Among the pages, one day, a letter appears, reading:

"I understand I am still learning how to be a friend, and you are teaching me new ways to be a better one. I appreciate that. I also understand I can't take your woes off your plate, so, even though I find it wrong, I will take on what of your burdens I can. I hope we can talk soon, but until then, take all the time away from school that you need. You will have perfect grades to come back to."

Ochako Uraraka:

'Good morning!' 'Goodnight!' 'How do you feel today?' It seemed like your phone never stopped dinging from how many times a day she texted you. Not only that but she'd check in on you in person multiple times a day as well, especially if you didn't answer any of her texts. She'd bring you breakfast in the mornings and dinner in the evening, catch you up on current events.

Eventually, you wound up letting her stay longer each time, texting her back longer replies. Before you knew it, you were texting/talking for hours. She'd send you a meme and you'd send one back. She'd tell you who liked who in the toher classes and you actually began to care.

You didn't even notice when the worries of your depressive episode began to fade into the background, the excitement of waking up to a good morning text lighting up your day each and every time.

Mashirao Ojiro:

It wasn't clear how it came to this, but here you were, cradled in Mashiroa's lap, tail curled around you securely. "Shhh, it's okay, let it out." he murmured, chin resting atop your head, thumbs stoking your skin with such care as he rocked you back and forth, letting you cry and vent your frustrations.

He hadn't needed to ask, he didn't beg you to talk. He simply knocked on your door and engulfed you in a warm, wordless embrace, the moment you opened it, holding you against him until you stopped resisting. You were rewarded for your surrender with his fingers gently raking through your hair. And then, you ended up like this.

"It's all gonna be okay, I promise." He swore, pressing a kiss to your temple as he felt your breathing calm. You'd cried yourself to sleep in his arms. He was just glad to see your pain fading away, even if momentarily.

Denki Kaminari:

"Why'd you stop answering your phone?" Denki asked, leaning into your doorway. "I've been worried sick."

"It died," you said dismissively. In truth, you doom-scrolled the battery to death.

"Charge it, maybe?" he deadpanned, cocking a brow at you.

"Lost my brick." you answered numbly, moving to shut the door, simply wanting to crawl back into bed, only to have his foot come between it and the frame.

"Bullshit," he called, pushing his way into your room, kicking out of his shoes and crawling into your bed without care in the world. "C'mon," he patted the space beside you, rolling his eyes at your befuddled expression. He swiped your chord off the nightstand, popping it in his mouth. "Bring me your phone." he said, words muffled by the charged between his teeth.

Your shoulders slumped as you came closer, handing it over, watching him plug the chord into it before holding the power button and bringing it back to life. Reluctantly, you crawled under the covers with him. "What are you doing?" you asked as he opened the Youtube app.

"You look like you could use a laugh," he smirked fingers tapping across the keyboard. The search bar read 'kids getting hurt'.

Eijiro Kirishima:

Eijiro sat on the outside of your door, rapping softly against it near the bottom. "Talk to me, please?" He asked, defeated. "I wanna help..." He had been at this for hours, listening to you cry on the other side of the locked door. He finally sighed, shifting into a more comfortable position. "We don't have to talk, if you don't wanna, we could just chill..."

Ten minutes pass and still, your only response to his coaxing are sobs not even meant for him. "I'm not exactly cuddly, but I could give you a hug?" he offered, knowing it was futile. "We could watch a movie, just lay in bed." he swallowed hard, rolling his stiff neck. "Just let me know you're okay..."

Still, he got no answer and part of him began to wonder if he was doing more harm than good. "Want me to just go...?"

"...No..." your soft voice came from the other side- inches away. When had you moved closer? It didn't matter. His fingers slipped under the crack of the door as a sympathetic smile crept across his face, widening when he felt yours graze them.

"I'm not goin' anywhere," he reassured kindly. "We don't gotta talk, I'll stay out here all night if I have to. Until you're ready for more than company."

Koji Koda:

Koji had no idea how to help soothe your pain as shy as he was. He could hardly talk to you in person, what could he possibly do? Well, he did have your social media, and he knew your favorite animal...

At exact times, staggered throughout the day, your phone would buzz, always with a message from him saying something like: 'I hope you're doing okay today!" with an attachment of a cute video or picture of your favorite animal. Sometimes they'd come with a little factoid about the animal.

It wasn't much, but he put a good deal of effort into this ritual, always making sure the messages, facts, and media were never the same. Little did he know, his efforts weren't in vain, they meant everything to you.

Rikido Sato:

Rikido had many flaws, but if there was one thing he was an expert at, it was keeping an index of everyone's tastes, and baking. That's why when he noticed you beginning to pull away from your friends, he was quick to jump into action. He wasn't one for confrontation, but acts of service were how he showed he cared.

He knew you favored a certain flavor, and he challenged himself to see how far he could take that knowledge. What all could he do with the extract of one flavor?

You were taken back when you began finding treats waiting for you outside your room every day. Poundcake on Monday, cupcakes on Tuesday, tarts on Wednesday, and so on and so forth. After a week or so, he was beginning to sweat, having scoured the internet and every book on his shelf for new recipes.

On the eighth day, while setting a beautifully wrapped box of cookies at your door, he jumped out of his skin, looking up to find your feet in front of him. "Sato..." you muttered, smiling sadly down at him as he bashfully stood, hulking over you.

"S-Sorry to bug you, just uh..." he explained sheepishly, lifting the package off the floor and handing it over directly. "I-I made you some cookies and..."

"Thank you..." you smiled, holding them to your chest. "You're so sweet." He was delighted to see such a genuine look of joy in your tired eyes. He felt like he'd found you after a long search.

"There you are..." he smiled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Missed you..."

I hope these help lift yall's spirits! There will be more, I promise!

[lacunammmm]

The League Of Villains Is The Most Irrelevant Group Of Losers The World Has Ever Seen, And Nothing That Happened After The First War Had Any Stakes Because Of It

Hawks killing Twice was a mistake.

It went nowhere, no one learned anything from it.

And as we learned from the final war arc, the villains are pathetic and can't score a single fatality.

NO ONE on the hero team got killed. Only villains died!

Hawks' actions look WORSE on that day. "Oh, but Twice was a huge threat!" Actually, no, he wasn't. He's a weak little bitch just like all his friends are. He could have executed Hawks' nightmare scenario of him cloning an army of high end Nomu, Dabi, and Tomura, and the villains still would have found a way to fuck it up.

The narrative would never kill anyone that the audience could begin to give the slightest of fucks about. The only people who died in the first war are were a bunch of filler characters invented just to get killed, and people with no real backstory or development at all.

Do you think anyone cared when Native died? Or how about Majestic, a character invented entirely for the war arc and given the role of being Momo and Setsuna's mentor, despite the fact that he'd never been seen before in the manga at that point, just so he can die and they can pretend there are stakes?

Eel Boy? Funk Man? There were actual characters who don't appear again to do anything of value in the series in the range of Tomura's Decay wave, but the author wouldn't let anything happen to his precious pookies, so they all get saved and he invents a bunch of nothing characters to die in their places.

X-Less entirely existed so he could die and deliver a Tetsuo style cape to Tomura. The man's life amounted to being a drip delivery boy.

The only reason Midnight died is because the author likes to mutilate and kill female characters. He realized that killing off a bunch of utter nothing characters wouldn't accomplish much and couldn't bear to kill Gran Torino after he drew Tomura turning him into a donut, so he picked Midnight, someone the audience could maybe care about but she only appeared in a handful of scenes and was there for Mineta's character development.

Notice how Kyoka lost an ear, but Deku's losing his arms got walked back in the next chapter, and the tease that Bakugo would lose his arm went nowhere?

There's no in universe reason for why the villains are so pathetic. They're garbage entirely because the author isn't willing to kill or harm his precious heroes, so he wraps them in mountains of bubble wrap.

Dabi couldn't even take out Hawks and Tokoyami when he had a type advantage against both of them, and flames that can melt steel in seconds. The guy bathed Hawks' back in blue fire, but only managed to damage his quirk a little.

I want to remind you that blue fire is hotter than lava. But instead of ending up requiring over 100 hours of surgery and having all of the nerves and flesh in his back obliterated, Hawks is just in some bandages for a bit and then he pulls through.

The guy doesn't even have to be rehabilitated. Nope.

The damage to his quirk is reversed by magical prosthetics that means he could enter into a battle with ALL FOR ONE with no apparent loss in power!

If the narrative has a character say "Oh, guys, I totally got weaker after my injury, trust!"

But then it has him fight the strongest villain in the series and the man who's slaughtered thousands by himself in a 2 vs 1 and the guy barely takes a scratch until AFO goes beast mode, why should we deny what's right in front of our eyes?

Hawks' damage was entirely cosmetic because the author likes him. And it means the villains are completely pathetic. This is a series where we're supposed to be worried that these bozos are going to kill everyone, while not letting them kill anyone.

It's a series where somehow, society had fallen to the point where it was total anarchy on the streets and THE MAJORITY of heroes quit…but coincidentally for the heroes, the League never attacks the specific places where their comrades are being held.

It sure is great for the heroes that All For one apparently couldn't be bothered to go spring all those PLF guys who certainly have…barely anyone guarding them because of how short staffed the country is at the moment.

In addition, as much as I like to harp on All For One's incredibly plot convenient "friends" who are apparently infinite in number and enable him to (ineffectually) have villains throw the entire planet into anarchy at his command all at once…

The heroes also get the incredible plot convenience of having infinite funding for all of their schemes, as well as infinite space and supplies for all the refugees who congregated in their school.

Would someone like to explain to me why and how UA high school is able to support most of the population of Japan and keep all of these people fed, watered, and sheltered? When NOBODY is going to work and everywhere is being evacuated? When they can't even get shipments from outside the country at the moment thanks to the state of emergency?

And they still have the supplies to manufacture all the stuff to:

-Make the entire school fly.

-Create the evacuation protocols for the refugees including the devices they were sending them off in.

-Supply their team with everything they could possibly need.

The author doesn't care to explain it and Momo's quirk is only used to create tiles to help fight "Tomura Shigaraki," not the rest of this stuff.

But I guess Nezu was preparing for a zombie apocalypse or something.

You know, Nezu. The guy who refused to entertain the idea that their school might have a spy and ignored the problem entirely.

Said spy was only caught because Hagakure happened to notice he was sneaking off to talk to his parents in the woods and he outed himself.

It sure is convenient for the heroes that AFO didn't keep both of Aoyama's parents as hostages, and that he had Aoyama out himself by having him attack Deku instead of just…waiting and having Aoyama open the doors of UA to them, or leak all their defenses.

It sure is convenient for the heroes that Shinso's quirk improved (off screen) enough to do exactly what the plot needed it to do and bypass AFO's lie detector abilities so he could summon his army into a trap that utterly destroyed them.

If we take the series at face value, everyone's terrified of Tomura, who has less than 100 kills. MOST of his kills were against MLA people who were attacking him. Something the heroes wouldn't actually know about.

The new symbol of evil, everyone, who regularly gets foiled by high school kids and then was murdered by the combined might of a bunch of 15-16 year olds.

I want to iron in something that illustrates how utterly worthless the League is.

Stain killed and crippled more heroes than the entire League Of Villains has. He killed 17 and maimed 23 to the point where they could never be heroes again.

Excluding All For One, of course, who got most of his kills pre-canon.

All For One's endless funding, a villain army, scores of Nomu, the All For One quirk, the MLA's assets being added to the League, and the brute force of Gigantomachia.

All inferior to one deranged man with knives and swords.

[k-nayee]

Muse Benson Boone

wc: 3.2k a/n: Song Inspiration: once again Death Wish Love by Benson Boone; recommend you listen while reading!! ngl y'all, I kinda have it down bad for ya boi here. smh just had to make one for him😭😭

Traveler M.List

ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˏ⸉ˋ‿̩͙‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙.·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙　✩　*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ .‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ‿̩̥̩‿̩̩̥͙̽‿̩͙ˊ⸊ˎ

It wasn’t hard to remember the first time you met Benson Boone.

You hadn’t expected much from the day, just a casual introduction Katy insisted on making when he was fresh off American Idol.

I mean, the Katy Perry? Who were you to refuse?

Besides you weren’t exactly a seasoned pro yourself—still finding your own rhythm in the music industry.

And so, it started off with little things: drafts of songs, small tweaks here and there.

You helped him refine early tracks, most notably Ghost Town—the one that truly put him on the map.

After that he started coming to you more and more. As his fame grew, so did your friendship. Pretty soon you became one of his permanent co-writers.

Now years later, you’d both grown up around each other. You’d seen him go through breakups, career stresses, and moments of doubt.

And he’d seen you juggle college, deal with your own personal issues, and (more than once) whine about how finding a decent guy seemed impossible.

Benson would always chuckle at that and tease you with lighthearted remarks, but you both knew that dating wasn’t really something you prioritized.

Maybe it was because of your grandfather’s old-school advice—always reminding you that most men wanted one thing which was what was between your legs.

It was drilled into your head so much that even when someone did show interest, you were quick to put them off.

Benson had been the exception to a lot of your rules though. Him and that attractive boy-next-door smile and the messy curls....

Ahem. Anyways.

There was even a brief period of time (you 18, him 20) when you felt a flicker of something more.

You would be hyper-aware of his closeness, how your heart would skip when he leaned in too close. But you’d buried those feelings fast.

He was your friend and he didn’t need you complicating that.

Now at 19, you were over it. Whatever crush you’d harbored was long gone, and Benson seemed content with your dynamic too.

He had never shown any romantic interest in you—he was always tangled up in his own relationships. And you?

You had your songwriting, your studies, and your life to keep you busy. There was no room to think about him like that.

But things had a funny way of changing...

You were in the studio with Benson. He was sitting across from you, head tipped back as he stared up at the ceiling in frustration.

“I don’t know,” he mutters, finally breaking the silence, “I just feel like everything I’m writing sounds the same.”

You glance up from your laptop, eyebrow raised. “You’re in a funk. It happens.”

He groans in response, still staring at the ceiling. “Yeah but it’s more than that. I want to try something new...something different.”

You lean back in your chair and wait for him to elaborate. He sits up suddenly, eyes narrowing with thought before they flicker to yours.

“I’ve been thinking,” he begins before pausing for dramatic effect. “What if I tried something in the country genre?”

A surprised laugh escapes your lips before you can stop it. “Country music? You?”

He rolls his eyes in attempt to play it off as if it’s no big deal, but you can see the determination behind them. “Why not?”

You lean forward with a smirk. “Let me guess: bit by the Cowboy Cater bug, huh? Beyoncé's album got you feeling all rustic and rugged?”

He laughed a little flustered, shaking his head. “No it’s not that. I just—” He hesitated, and that’s when you caught it.

Beneath his usual confidence there was something else. Uncertainty.

Benson was never unsure when it came to his music, but this? It was new territory for him.

“I want to branch out, you know? Try something that’s different from what I’ve been doing.”

You watched him carefully, noticing the way his fingers drummed lightly against the armrest of his chair.

For all the joking, there was a frustration underneath it. He felt he wasn’t as creative as he usually was and it was bothering him.

After a beat of silence, you nod and cross your arms. “I get it. You’re ready to shake things up.”

“Exactly,” his expression relaxes a little as he saw you weren’t just teasing him anymore.

You pause when a spark of an idea hits you. “You know...I think I might know just the place to help kickstart your country boy era.”

His eyebrows lift. “Oh?”

A grin spread across your face.  “What if we went to my hometown? You’ll find all the inspiration you need there.”

There’s a beat of silence as Benson considers your offer, his lips curving into a soft smile. “You’d really take me down there?”

“Why not?” you say with a shrug. “Could be fun. And you’ll get all the authentic country vibes you’re looking for.”

He chuckles with a small nod. “Alright,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

You beamed, already buzzing with excitement. “Great! I’ll book everything. Trust me you’re going to love it.”

He smiled back, his gaze lingering on you just a second too long before he turned away. “I trust you.”

════════════════*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═════════════════

The moment you and Benson roll into your hometown, the air feels different.

It’s been a while since you’ve been back home, and the nostalgia washes over you in waves the closer you drive.

You catch Benson glancing out the window as if he's trying to soak in the vibe of the small Southern town.

After a few minutes of driving, he finally breaks the silence. “So...are we heading straight to the hotel?”

You glance at him with a sly grin. “Actually I’ve got a better idea.”

He raises an eyebrow intrigued but doesn’t press. He’s always trusted you, especially when it comes to things like this. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re pulling up to the familiar gates of Chickadee Country Club.

As the headlights sweep over the sign, memories of summer jobs, long shifts, and late-night laughs flood your mind.

Rolling down the window as you approach the security gate, the guard’s flashlight flickers over your car before the beam lands on you.

A wide grin breaks across the guard’s face the moment he recognizes you. “Well I’ll be damned! Ain’t that [Mom Name]’s girl? What you doin’ down here sweetheart? Thought you’d be up there with the big-time celebs writin’ them songs and whatnot.”

You roll your eyes already smiling. “Very funny, Earl. I’m here for a job.”

Earl lets out a laugh, his wrinkled face creasing in amusement. “A job huh? What, you run outta money already?”

“Ha ha, ya got me.” you say dryly, shooting him a sarcastic look. “Now will you let me through Earl? Or are you gonna keep me out here all night ya old coot?”

Earl chuckles as the gate slowly begins to open.

“Well since ya asked so nicely,” he drawls, flashing you a wink. “Don’t get lost now. Place ain’t changed much, but it still got a way of confusin’ city folk.”

As you pull through Benson snorts beside you. “Ran out of money huh?” he asks with a teasing grin as you park into the parking space.

You shrug. “Times are tough.”

Stepping out of the car, you glance back at him as he follows. “C’mon. I want to show you where the magic happens.”

Benson lets out a low whistle. “So this is where you worked?”

“Yup. Chickadee Country Club. I basically lived here for years.”

He raise an eyebrow as he get into step beside you. “So what did you do here? Let me guess—bev cart girl?”

You let out a loud laugh at that. “God, no. Everything else but that. Food running, banquet serving, bartending... you name it, I did it.”

“Bartending before 21?” His eyes widen slightly as he looks over at you. “But isn't that like—”

“Illegal?” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, leaning in just a little closer. “Just don’t tell anyone. Shhhh”

He lets out a laugh at that, the sound warm in the cooling night air.

Your smile soften at the sight, but before he could notice you brush it off and elbow him lightly.

“Welp! Who knows,” you jump a head of him with a pep in your step, “might even meet the love of your life here.”

Benson huffs with a shake of his head as he watches you head toward the glass doors of the club.

His gaze lingers, the fondness inside his chest growing the longer he watches you.

“Yeah,” he mutters to himself. “Hopefully.”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

You push open the glass doors of the country club, stepping into the familiar scent of polished wood and faint lemon cleaner.

It’s closing time and the place is quiet, but you can already hear the distant chatter of a few late-night staffers finishing up for the evening.

Benson lingers behind you, eyes sweeping over the dark wood paneling and framed photos of golf tournaments long past.

“____! Well look what the cat dragged in!”

You barely have time to react before Mirabel, one of your old coworkers, rushes up to you with open arms.

She pulls you into a tight hug, her dark curls bouncing as she lets out an excited squeal.

“Mirabel!” you laugh as you hug her back. “Long time no see.”

Mirabel pulls away just long enough to look you up and down, her eyes sparkling with surprise. “Señorita where have you been? I thought you’d abandoned us all for the fancy Hollywood life!”

“Not quite,” you joke before perking up when your gaze fell on a familiar petite figure hunched over the computer nearby.

Taylor. She hasn’t changed a bit—still the same auburn ponytail bouncing behind her and freckles splashed across her pale skin like stars in the night sky.

You grab Benson’s arm in excitement as you whisper, “You want country inspiration right?”

Without waiting for an answer you pull him towards her.

“Taylor!” you call once close enough.

The redhead glances up, and for a split second, confusion crosses her face before recognition hits.

Her expression transforms and lights up like a firework. “Well slap my ass and call me a biscuit! ____! Where the hell have you been girl?”

Her thick Southern twang makes you giggle as you rush over to give her a tight hug. “I’ve been round! You know, making music and living that L.A. life. But I’m back for a few days to work on a new project.”

Taylor's green eyes brighten with curiosity. “Oh yeah? What kinda project?”

You glance back at Benson who’s offering a sheepish smile.

Before you can even introduce him, Taylor’s eyes widen and her jaw drops.

“Oh my God,” she's starstruck. “Benson Boone! I didn’t know you were friends with the Benson Boone!”

You suppress a laugh as Benson waves shyly. “Hi uh...nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet—girl, do you know how fine he is in real life?” Taylor mutters under her breath, though loud enough for you to hear.

You bite back a grin knowing full well that Benson heard it too by the way he flushes.

“Yeah I’ve noticed,” you reply with a wink, earning a playful slap on the arm from Taylor.

She’s just about to launch into another flurry of questions, the sound of fast-approaching footsteps catches your attention.

“My baby!” 

Before you can react, you’re snatched into a familiar embrace and smothered in kisses.

“Oh ____! My sweet baby!” Your mom’s voice echoes in the lobby as she holds onto you, her grip like iron. “When did you get here? You weren’t even gonna tell your own mama you were home?”

“Hey Ma...” you mumble, struggling to breathe as she finally pulls back.

Your mom’s tearful face quickly morphs into one of irritation, and before you can say a word, she smacks you upside the head. “Uh ow?”

“Now when the hell did you get here? And where are you even staying?” she demands, hands on her hips now. “You couldn’t even come stay at the house? What, you ashamed of where you were raised?!”

“Ma please,” you groan, already feeling the heat of embarrassment crawl up your neck as you catch Benson’s teasing gaze from the corner of your eye. “I just got in tonight, and I’m staying at a hotel because—well, there won't be any room at the house. I’ve got company.”

You gesture over to Benson who offers your mom an awkward wave. Her stern expression melts instantly the moment she sees him.

“Oh? And who is this handsome fella?” She strides over to Benson, sizing him up with a playful smile. Her hand reaches out to pinch his cheek. “You ____’s boyfriend?”

“Ma!” You practically shriek, feeling your face heat up.

“That’s Benson Boone Miss [Mom’s Name],” Taylor chimes in, still wide-eyed and giddy. “He’s like, one of the biggest artists right now. You know that song Ghost Town? That’s him!”

Your mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her smile widening with delight. She turns back to you with an amused glint in her eye.

“Oh Benson...Ain’t he that boy you used to gush about all the time? Didn’t you have the biggest crush on him or something?”

Your stomach flips and you feel like the ground just dropped out from under you.

'Did she really just say that?' You’re suddenly hyper-aware of Benson standing right beside you, and when you glance at him, you can see the surprise in his eyes.

He’s looking at you now, and it makes your pulse race.

“Wha—I—” you stammer, trying to think of anything to say that will save you from this situation. “I didn’t—psssh, what are you—” You wave your hand dismissively, avoiding Benson’s eyes completely.

“Anyway uh, Taylor!” You shift gears so fast you nearly give yourself whiplash. “I heard you’re throwing a party tonight. Mind if we crash?”

Taylor’s head perks up immediately, her excited energy pulling everyone back into a lighter mood. “Oh! You saw my post huh? Yeah we’re havin’ a get-together at the ranch. Y’all should definitely come!”

She turns to your mom. “Miss [Mom’s Name], you wanna join too?”

Your mom waves her off with a chuckle. “Oh honey, I’m not as spry as I used to be for these late-night things.”

Taylor leans in conspiratorially. “My single uncle’s gonna be there...you know, the one with the salt-n-pepper beard?”

Your mom raises an eyebrow. “The one with the big truck and cattle ranch?”

Taylor nods eagerly. 

Without missing a beat, your mom starts unties her apron and toss it onto a nearby table. “Well what are we waitin’ for then? Let’s get to that party!”

*.·:·.☽✧✧☾.·:·.* 

As you and Benson pull up to Taylor’s family ranch, the sounds of laughter and music spill into the air.

The party’s already in full swing—bonfires flickering across the open field and the twang of guitars blending with the rhythm of boots stomping on wooden boards.

You can see people dancing in pairs, moving in perfect sync as the night seems to pulse with life.

Benson stood next to you. His eyes dart everywhere, from the rows of fairy-string lights that hung between the trees to the smoky haze from the fire pits that slowly disappeared into the star-filled sky.

You can tell he’s taking it all in—the Southern atmosphere, the energy, the warmth of it all.

“Overwhelmed yet?” your tone is light when you ask with a grin.

He chuckles and shake his head. “Nah this is...different. In a good way.”

“Well get ready to be fully indoctrinated into Southern fun,” you tease before stepping toward the party. “Come on city boy.”

He follows behind you, staying close by your side.

There’s a brief pause when you both reach the edge of the party. It almost seemed like the music’s vibrations are in the air itself, buzzing with a wild kind of energy.

Taylor spots you immediately from where she’s mingling with some friends and makes a beeline for you. “Well look at what the wind blew in!” she exclaims.

In one hand she holds a light-up cowboy hat, and in the other, a bundle of glowstick necklaces. “Here y’all gonna need these.”

She places the cowboy hat on your head with a flourish and tosses a couple of glowsticks over Benson’s shoulders, the neon bands glowing faintly against his dark shirt.

Benson laughs, awkwardly adjusting the glowsticks around his neck. “What do you think? Do I look the part?”

You smirk, tugging the hat lower on your head. “You’re getting there. Just need to find you a pair of cowboy boots and you’ll be all set.”

Taylor nudges you with her elbow. “C'mon! What are y’all? Stalks of corn waiting to be shucked or sum? Get out there and have some fun!”

Letting out a laugh, you turn to Benson who’s watching the dancers with something like curiosity—and maybe just a hint of apprehension.

“You decide what you’re gonna write about yet wannabe-country boy?” You peer at him through your lashes, leaning closer so he can hear you speak over the loud music.

Your warm breath against his skin makes him shiver.

You miss the way his gaze flickers to your lips before darting back to your eyes, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly.

He clears his throat, trying to shake off the strange unexpected reaction. “Uh...n-not yet no.”

Your smile softens and you give him a reassuring nudge. “You’ll get there. You always do. Just let me know when inspiration strikes, ‘kay?”

With that, you give him a final playful wink before spinning away to join Taylor on the dance floor.

You’re immediately pulled into the rhythm of the music, laughing as Taylor spins you around.

From the sidelines Benson watches, standing next to your mom who has already struck up a conversation with someone nearby (but she kept an eye on him).

And honestly? He can’t take his eyes off you.

Under the string lights and with the bonfire flickering in the distance, there’s something different about you tonight.

You’re radiant, laughing freely as your face lights up with a glow that has nothing to do with the hat Taylor tossed on your head.

You move through the world so effortlessly, so full of life....

It was in this moment Benson realized just how much he enjoys your presence.

Yeah he always loved having you around, but now there’s something else—a shift, subtle but undeniable.

Lyrics begin to form through his mind, each word tied to the way you moved, to the weight of this new unfamiliar feeling.

How could something so delicate also be dangerous?

His heart beats a little faster, like he’s seeing you for the first time.

You glance back at him from the dance floor and something warm and unfamiliar settles in his chest.

I get so terrified that I’m gonna lose you...And I’ll die if I do...

You smile and wave him over, but Benson stays where he is. Instead he's frozen by this sudden, terrifying realization that he might be falling for you.

As if sensing what he was thinking, your mom nudges him gently. “Found your inspiration yet sweetheart?”

Her voice pulls him back to the present, but his gaze never leaves as you dance under the glow of the lights.

A soft, breathless sigh escapes him as he answers, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yeah...I think I have.”

It's a death wish love...

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Hwang Hyunjin x F!Reader TW : angst ; Hyunjin is just sad (which is honestly relatable) ; reader thinks they're pregnant ; reader might be pregnant ; symptoms of pregnancy ; fluff ending ; Word Count : 2.0k Request : Annony : Can I request and angsty fic Where Hyunjin has just been going through a really rough time and y/n tries her best to be there for him and keeps waiting for the right time to tell him she thinks she’s pregnant. He just keeps crying and he doesn’t know why he’s so sad, but slowly he gets out of it a bit. One morning he wakes up because y/n is having morning sickness and showing other symptoms so she has no choice but to finally open up and tell him everything. They take a test and well…I’ll let you take creative control after this. I’m really excited I’ve thought this request through a lot and I hope you decide to write it

“Hey, you okay?” Your coworker asked as she walked into the breakroom. Your head had been resting against the table, your eyes squeezed tightly shut as you tried to count your breaths. “Feeling dizzy again?” She asked when you didn’t answer her first question, and you gave her weak thumbs up in response. “Maybe you are… you know… the p word.” She whispered, and it’s not like it was a bad word to say, it’s just that you didn’t want anyone else that you worked with to know. 

“I’m too nervous to test…” You mumbled, and she knew exactly why. She was your only confidant at this point, especially since Hyunjin was going through his own personal problems. You didn’t want to stack anything else on top of whatever else was bothering him. All you did know was that, no matter how much you tried to help him or console him, he’d be right back to crying soon after. “Plus, it would be too soon… I don’t want to test too early or anything…” 

To be honest, home life wasn’t really the best right now. It’s not that there were any arguments, there was no fighting, but it was obvious that Hyunjin was stressed about something, and you were mentally stressed about potentially being pregnant, so the last thing you needed was triple the stress for both of you if a test came out positive. Even just thinking about it felt like too much right now.  

“Well you can’t wait forever. I mean… With his job, he gets stressed very easily. What are you gonna do? You can’t just hide potentially important things from him every time he gets upset or stressed out.” You rolled your eyes at your coworkers' sudden nagging, and while you knew that it came from a place of concern and care, you didn’t need that right now. You didn’t need to be parented, you needed someone to just be there for you. 

“He doesn’t get stressed easily, and you make it sound like he’s like this all the time. I’m not hiding things from him either, I’m giving him time to get in the right place mentally before dropping something like this on him.” You quickly defended your boyfriend, silently wishing that you hadn’t told your coworker anything at all. “He’s a good boyfriend, and just because he gets stressed and upset sometimes doesn’t change that.”

“I’m not saying that he’s not a good boyfriend for you… I just feel like you cater to him and his feelings a lot because of his job and your feelings get pushed to the backburner.” She tried to explain, but she couldn’t be further from the truth. 

“I’m not having this conversation right now. I appreciate you caring and trying to look out for me, but my relationship is fine. He’s a great guy… Okay? I have to get back to work now, enjoy your break.” 

///

Hyunjins moment seemed to last longer and longer. He’d lock himself in his room the moment he walked through the front door and you’d hear him cry for hours until things went silent, and the only reason things got quiet is because he’d cry himself to sleep. There was nothing you could do to help him because he wouldn’t even talk to you about it, and a part of you wondered if he’d ever get out of the funk he was in. 

With the time that passed, the symptoms only grew stronger. Your headaches were getting worse, the nausea was almost unbearable, even your boobs hurt. You wanted to excuse it as reading into the symptoms too much, you thought that your mind was playing tricks on you. You wanted to find any reason you could to hold off on testing until Hyunjin got better because you didn’t want to be alone when you found out, no matter what the result was. 

When Hyunjin was around, you tried to hide the symptoms from him. If you started feeling sick, you’d quickly go off to the bathroom and turn on the sink, hoping that you wouldn’t actually start throwing up. The tiredness that you felt was written off as working too many hours and being on your feet too long. Luckily he was none the wiser to the soreness in your breasts because you hadn’t been with him in any physical way since he had been in his funk. You missed him, and you wanted to blame the potentially surging hormones for the tears that would be shed when you’d lay in the same bed beside him at night without a single kiss or those three words that would make you feel like he did still love you. 

The longer it lasted, the more you would think about what your coworker had said. No matter how much you tried to get those words out of your head, they would constantly pop up. When you would hear him crying in the room and you’d try to help him, but it was like he was shutting you out. Not only did it feel like he was pushing you away, but it felt like you were by yourself. He wasn’t the only one going through something right now, and you wanted so badly to tell him, but for some reason you were trying so hard to protect him that you weren’t even worried about yourself. 

Even still, you didn’t want to give up on him. You loved him, and you truly believed that he just needed time, that he’d get better sooner or later, and no matter what, you’d stick by him, even if it meant pushing your own stresses, your own worries to the side until he got better. 

///

He was starting to feel better, he really was. It had been a week since the last time he had cried, and while he still doesn’t fully understand himself why things had gotten so bad or why he was so upset, he was thankful that he had you by his side the entire time, even if it didn’t seem that way. He wanted to take you out today, to show you that he appreciated you and everything that you do for him. He wanted to show you that he truly does love you, and that he’s grateful that you didn’t give up on him through this entire thing. 

The bed was already empty, which wasn’t rare as of lately considering he always seemed to sleep in, but one look at the clock on the bedside table made him fully aware that it was too early for even you to be awake. He could have sworn you came to bed last night, that he had felt the warmth of your body beside him underneath the covers. Had you gone to the couch at some point in the middle of the night? Were you finally pulling away? 

Just as he was pushing the comforter off of his body, he heard what sounded like gagging and choking and he never moved so fast in his life. Tripping over his own feet, he rushed into the bathroom to find you doubled over the toilet, sweat beading up on your forehead and spit dribbling down from the corner of your mouth. It’s like you didn’t even realize he was there, or maybe you just didn’t want to acknowledge him as you tried your best to seemingly catch your breath. 

“Baby… What’s wrong?” He whispered, kneeling down beside you to try to get you to look at him, but you only shook your head, pushing yourself up to your feet with the help of the side of the bathtub, leaving him on the floor and even more worried than before. “Are you mad at me? I’m sorry… Do you want me to leave you alone?” 

“No…” You said, your voice slightly raspy, and he could only assume that it was because of getting sick, but you sounded so tired too. He didn’t know how sick you were, he didn’t know what was going on or how long you had been feeling like this, but he wanted to be there for you now, no matter what was wrong. “I think… I might be pregnant…” Your head lowered, as if you were ashamed to be telling him that, although he wasn’t sure why. 

Of course, he wasn’t ready to be told something like that, he was sure that no man was ever truly ready to hear that, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t ready to step up and be the man that you and his potential child would need. “Okay… Well, I can run to the store and pick up some tests and we can find out if you are…” 

“I… Already have the tests. They’re in my purse…” You admitted and he nodded along slowly, trying not to get too upset that you had potentially been going through this for longer than he thought. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay first. I didn’t want to do this alone…” Alone… He had left you all alone to deal with these worries and these thoughts and these fears. “You… You are okay… Right?” 

His head nodded swiftly, his eyes that were brimming with tears of guilt glistened in the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. “I am… I’m okay. You’re not alone, I’m here and no matter what happens… I’m going to stay here with you. I love you…” He finally got up off the floor, scrambling to his feet just to stand in front of you, his eyes finally meeting yours for what felt like the first time. “You have nothing to worry about… I’ll always be here… I promise.” 

///

“Out of the way! Out of the way! Move it! Excuse us! Make room! Pregnant girlfriend coming through!” Hyunjin shouted as he walked with you down the halls of the JYPE building. He was so loud, you were sure that even the people the next floor up could hear him coming, he was like a damn fire truck with its sirens on. You rolled your eyes at the rambunctiousness of it all. “What? I just don’t want anyone to bump into you or anything. I’m trying to keep you and baby Jinnie safe.” 

Your eyebrows arched at the little nickname that he had given the baby, you hadn’t heard him say it before. You had had an ultrasound the day before, and the doctor had asked if you wanted to know the gender of the baby, but you and Hyunjin had both agreed to keeping it a secret until the birth. “Baby Jinnie, huh? Where’d you come up with that name?” You quizzed, wondering if maybe his curiosity had gotten the better of him and he had just asked the doctor what the baby would be on his way out of the exam room. 

“Isn’t that what they do for sons in America? People name the baby boys after their father? He can be little Jinnie Jr. right?” Hyunjin asked, his eyes twinkling as he looked down at you. His arms were wrapped protectively around you as you rode the elevator up to the right floor, and as cute and innocent as he looked right now, you couldn’t help but be a little suspicious. 

“Hmm… A son? Are we having a boy?” His lips were drawn in, turning into a thin line and you could read the guiltiness on his face. He nodded his head slowly, clearly trying to read your reaction after having basically spoiled the surprise. “You just couldn’t wait to find out, could you?” You teased, and he let out a little sigh of relief when he realized that you weren’t angry. How could you be angry though? He wanted to know and you weren’t going to get mad at him for finding out. 

“Maybe we can do like… A baby shower, and a surprise gender reveal for everyone else!” He proposed the idea, and he sounded so excited, there was no way that you could turn him down, plus it sounded like fun. “The guys really want to know whether they’re getting a niece or a nephew, they’re gonna be so happy to find out!” He had been talking so loudly on the elevator, but once the doors slid open, his voice dropped to a whisper, his lips lingering right beside your ear. “This is our secret though, don’t tell them.” 

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