#i love the explanation and the step-by-step

[waaayoutofline]

Like Seeing A Ghost.

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Prompt: Married life and family core.

Summary: Your teenage daughter changed styles, and you cant help but be remained of a certain someone.

Warnings: None. Just love and fluff.

WORD COUNT: 1490

AN: I wrote this under the wonderful influence of sleep depravation. I just corrected it grammatically. It’s the first time I have written a family related prompt, so sorry but it’ll probably be a bit cringey :´). YDN stands for: Your daughters name btw—

It was a quiet day in the Maximoff household, a rare sense of calm settling over the space. Humming softly, you switched off the vacuum and put it away, satisfied with the tidiness of the room. The peaceful silence was soon interrupted by the doorbell, drawing your attention with mild curiosity. “I’ve got it!” you called, making your way to the door. You didn’t need to check the peephole, you already knew who it was. “Darling, finally! Your mother is almost finished with—oh dear gods.”

You froze as your 16-year-old daughter stepped inside. Taking in her appearance, your eyes widened in surprise. She shifted uncomfortably under your gaze, clearly bracing herself for the reaction that didn’t come as quickly as she expected.

Gone were her typical morning clothes, replaced by a more alternative look. She wore an oversized black t-shirt featuring an old rock band, her arms covered in fishnet sleeves, fingers adorned with silver rings and chains. Her makeup, though still a work-in-progress, was heavy with black eyeliner and smudged dark red eyeshadow. A silver cross dangled from her freshly pierced ear. She completed the outfit with a mid-length skirt and red Converse sneakers. If it weren’t for her eyes—the same color as yours—you might not have recognized her at first. But even then, the look wasn’t unfamiliar. She resembled someone else you knew all too well.

“It’s… it’s—” you began, voice faltering. Your daughter braced herself even more, her posture defiant, though you could see flickers of uncertainty in her expression. That defiant stance finally broke your composure.

“It’s like seeing a ghost! Oh, my beautiful girl,” you exclaimed, bursting into delighted laughter. “It’s like going back in time. Wanda, darling, come here, please!” you called out, grinning at the uncanny resemblance.

Your heart swelled with nostalgia and amusement. You never thought you’d see such a familiar look on your own child, yet here she was, carrying a piece of the past into the present.

“What is it, love? Is it Y/D/N? I made her favorite,” Wanda called, wiping her hands with a kitchen towel before stopping abruptly. “Oh wow. This is… definitely a surprise.”

Your daughter, tired of the mixed reactions from both of you, crossed her arms defensively. “Before you say anything—no, I didn’t get any piercings or tattoos. But this is how I want to dress from now on. And if you have any issues with it, then…”

Your eyes softened at the sight of her defiance fading into vulnerability. You glanced at Wanda, who nodded. “Darling, you don’t owe us any explanations,” she said gently.

“I… don’t?” Y/D/N repeated, tentatively. You took a step forward, resting a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Of course not. You know your mom and I want you to discover who you are. All we care about is that you don’t hurt yourself in the process. Why would you think we’d be upset?”

Your daughter’s shoulders relaxed as the tension eased. “A… friend of mine dresses like this, and her parents didn’t take it well. They told her if she didn’t dress ‘normal,’ they’d send her to some creepy summer camp.”

Wanda frowned. “Well, they’re idiots.” Your daughter smiled at that. “They are! Like your mom said, we’ll never judge you for who you are. All we want is for you to be safe and happy.”

With that, she smiled and pulled you both into a hug. “Thanks for being such cool parents.” You exchanged a glance with Wanda and hugged her back.

“I mean… if we weren’t, we’d be total hypocrites.” Your daughter tilted her head in curiosity, prompting a laugh from you as you moved toward the living room.

Wanda scoffed. “Oh, don’t you dare, Y/N,” she warned playfully, following close behind, already anticipating your next move. Before she could stop you, you pulled out the family photo album. Your daughter plopped down next to you on the couch, while Wanda took her place on the armrest, wearing a mock pout.

Flipping through the pages, you found what you were looking for. “Why haven’t I seen this before?” Y/D/N asked, eyes wide with interest.

“These are from years before you were born,” you explained softly, turning the album’s pages with care. “Most were taken when your mother and I first met. We kept them hidden… because she was a little shy about them.”

Wanda playfully nudged your arm, her smile a little bashful. “Do you really have to show them? I’d like for our daughter to still respect me, you know.”

You grinned, glancing at your daughter. “Of course, I do! I mean, just look at her. You two are practically twins—it’s adorable.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, though her blush deepened. “You’re having too much fun with this.”

As you flipped another page, your daughter gasped, eyes widening in disbelief. Wanda’s face turned a deep shade of red as she quickly covered her face with her hands, her embarrassment palpable. You, however, couldn’t stop the grin spreading across your face. “Mom, why didn’t you tell me you were so cool?” Y/D/N exclaimed, her excitement bubbling over as she snatched the album from you, flipping through the pictures like a child on Christmas morning.

“What do you mean “were”?” Wanda huffed in mock offense. “I’m still cool!”

A brief silence followed, punctuated only by Wanda’s playful exasperation. You reached out, squeezing her hand, the warmth of her skin grounding both of you. The resemblance between mother and daughter was striking, as if time had folded in on itself. “That picture,” you said, pointing to a particular one, “was taken around the time I first met your mom. She was this emo, tough, and incredibly intimidating girl—” You started dramatically, glancing at Wanda, who shot you a half-hearted glare.

“Okay, okay, no need to humiliate me further,” Wanda cut in, trying to maintain some shred of dignity.

“Humiliate?” You softened your voice, your eyes meeting hers. “That was the version of you I fell in love with.” You turned another page, your tone warm and nostalgic. “I mean, the whole ‘bad girl’ thing really worked for me.”

“Mom, gross!” Y/D/N laughed, wrinkling her nose in mock disgust.

You nudged her playfully. “Oh, hush. What I’m trying to say is… I fell in love with that Wanda, and every version after her.”

With each page you turned, years passed in the photographs. Different styles, changing haircuts, moments of growth captured in still images. But one thing remained constant—your love.

“…and the next,” you continued quietly. “Because that’s what love is. It’s not about how someone dresses or looks. It’s about loving them for who they are, through every version, and with how they express themselves to the world.”

You closed the album gently and reached for your daughter’s hands, holding them tenderly. “That’s why no matter how you choose to present yourself, it will never change how we feel about you. You are our daughter, and we will always love you—no matter what.” Y/D/N smiled, her eyes bright with relief and understanding. Wanda, still blushing from your words, looked at both of you with so much love that it was almost overwhelming. A sudden thought crossed her mind, her lips curving into a small, playful smile.

“You know,” Wanda began, her voice light, “if you’re interested, I still have some of those clothes.”

Your daughter’s eyes lit up. “No way.”

“Oh yes, way. Why don’t you start by heading up to the attic? I’ll join you in a sec.”

In an instant, your daughter gave Wanda a quick, excited hug before practically running towards the stairs. You and Wanda exchanged a glance, bursting into quiet laughter. As you stood up, Wanda caught you by the waist, pulling you close, her eyes filled with nothing but love. For a moment, the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you. She leaned in and kissed you, slow and tender.

“Mama! Do you still have that red jacket?” your daughter called from upstairs, breaking the moment. Wanda sighed, chuckling under her breath as she pulled away.

“I do!” Wanda called back, her voice filled with affection. “In fact, that jacket I stole from Auntie Nat!”

Another excited shriek echoed down the stairs, and you both shared a fond look.

“I better go before she tears down the attic,” Wanda said with a small smile, taking a step back.

You nodded, watching her as she began to leave, but she paused at the doorway and turned back, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Hey,” she whispered, “I am cool, right?”

A full, hearty laugh escaped you, the sound filling the room with warmth. “Yeah, Wanda. You’re the coolest.”

Wanda grinned, the playful tension melting away as she disappeared up the stairs, leaving you with a heart full of love and a smile that lingered long after she was gone.

[tetsuissohot]

Toji Fushijuro ONESHOT

☆summary. After a painful breakup, Y/N thought she had moved on from Toji Fushiguro, but when he reappears in her life, old feelings resurface. Toji, determined to win her back, confesses his regret and desire for a second chance. As the two wrestle with unresolved emotions, Y/N faces the struggle between her lingering love for him and the fear of getting hurt again. In the midst of their heated confrontation, passion takes over, and Y/N must decide if Toji’s promises are enough to trust him once more.

☆warning/tags: 18+fem!reader, casual, SFW, building up tention, ex's to lovers?, part 1

☆word count:5.1k

☆a/n: This my first work lol, please be kind and tell me where I can get improve! I'm thinking of doing a second part for this oneshot where things get a bit spicier. I hope you enjoy!

part 2

The dimly lit bar was buzzing with the low hum of chatter and clinking glasses, but Y/N barely registered it. She stared blankly at the glass in her hand, swirling the amber liquid inside as her thoughts drifted elsewhere. The past few weeks had been a whirlwind—missions, responsibilities, and emotions she had long since buried.

But all of that seemed insignificant when he walked in.

Toji Fushiguro.

Y/N’s grip tightened around her glass at the sight of him. Even in the crowded bar, his presence was commanding—tall, broad-shouldered, and carrying an aura that both attracted and warned people to stay away. His dark green eyes scanned the room with a predator's calm until they landed on her. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He walked toward her, his steps confident and sure, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And maybe he did—Toji had always been direct, never one to beat around the bush. But it wasn’t his confidence that made Y/N’s heart race; it was the fact that seeing him again brought back memories she had worked so hard to suppress.

“Mind if I sit?” His voice was deep, gruff, and achingly familiar.

Y/N didn’t bother looking up as she took another sip of her drink. “It’s a free country.”

Unfazed by her cold response, Toji pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down, his eyes never leaving her face. He leaned back casually, arms draped over the chair like he had all the time in the world.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said, his tone casual but his gaze sharp.

Y/N finally met his eyes, her expression unreadable. “I’m not avoiding you, Toji. We’re just... done. I thought we both agreed on that.”

Toji’s smirk faded, and his face took on a seriousness that Y/N hadn’t seen in a long time. He leaned forward, elbows resting on the table, his voice dropping to a low rumble. “Maybe you did. I didn’t.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay composed. “You were the one who walked away,” she reminded him, her voice steady. “You were the one who said this—we—weren’t meant to last.”

Toji’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening. He remembered that day all too well. The bitter words he had thrown at her, the way he had convinced himself that he was better off alone—that she was better off without him. But now, sitting across from her, the regret felt like a weight pressing down on his chest.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” he admitted, his voice softer now, laced with something Y/N wasn’t used to hearing from him—vulnerability. “I thought it would be easier for you if I wasn’t in the picture.”

Y/N scoffed, setting her glass down with a clink. “Easier? You think walking out without an explanation made things easier for me?”

Toji winced, his usual unshakable demeanor faltering. He wasn’t used to this—wasn’t used to being the one in the wrong. But he knew he couldn’t sugarcoat it, couldn’t charm his way out of this like he did with everything else.

“You deserved better,” he said, his voice low but firm. “I was messed up. Still am, probably. But…” He trailed off, searching for the right words. “I’m not here to make excuses. I’m here because—dammit—I want you back.”

Y/N stared at him, shock flashing across her face before she quickly masked it with indifference. “You don’t get to just come back after disappearing, Toji. I moved on.”

Toji’s eyes darkened, the idea of her moving on hitting him harder than he anticipated. He wasn’t used to losing—especially not to someone else. The thought of Y/N with anyone else made his blood boil, but he forced himself to calm down.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he said slowly, his voice rough with emotion. “But I’m asking for a second chance.”

Y/N shook her head, trying to keep the walls she had built around her heart intact. “You can’t just walk back into my life whenever it’s convenient for you. I’ve been fine without you, Toji.”

He leaned in closer, his presence overwhelming. “Have you? Because I haven’t been.”

Y/N felt the weight of his words settle over her. Toji was never one to admit weakness, never one to let his guard down. But here he was, laying it all out in front of her, as raw and honest as she’d ever seen him.

“You think this is easy for me?” he continued, his voice rough. “It’s not. I’m no good at this… at us. But I’m trying, Y/N. I’ve spent every day since we split wishing I hadn’t walked away.”

Y/N could feel the cracks forming in her defenses. She wanted to be angry—was angry—but there was something in Toji’s eyes that made it hard to hold onto that anger. She’d never seen him like this, so exposed.

“Toji…” Y/N began, but her voice faltered, unsure of what to say.

“Just tell me there’s still something there,” Toji said, his voice almost pleading now. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

Y/N’s heart raced as she searched his face, her emotions swirling in a storm of confusion, anger, and longing. She had loved him once—loved him deeply. And even though she had tried to move on, a part of her had never really let go.

But was that enough?

“You hurt me,” Y/N said quietly, her voice barely audible over the noise of the bar. “And I don’t know if I can go through that again.”

Toji’s face softened, his hand reaching out across the table, hesitating before he touched hers. When his fingers finally brushed against her skin, it was tentative, as if he wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch her anymore.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes locking onto hers. “But I won’t make that mistake again. I swear.”

The silence stretched between them, heavy with unspoken feelings. Y/N looked down at his hand on hers, feeling the warmth of his touch, the sincerity in his gaze.

She had every reason to push him away, to tell him it was too late. But in the depth of her heart, she knew that despite everything, she still cared for him.

“I need time,” Y/N finally said, her voice soft but firm. “I’m not promising anything, Toji. But… I’ll think about it.”

Relief flooded Toji’s face, and for the first time in a long while, he smiled—really smiled. “That’s all I’m asking for.”

As they sat there in the dim light, their hands still touching, Y/N realized that maybe second chances weren’t always about forgetting the past. Sometimes, they were about finding a way to move forward—together, despite the scars.

And maybe, just maybe, Toji Fushiguro was worth the risk.

Thank you for reading xoxo

let me know if you want part II!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Cool for the Summer 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After finishing your degree, you return home only to find things aren’t as you left them.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: baby girls, he we go.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You rinse out the bowl you used for your oatmeal. It’s only as the back door opens that you notice the roar of the mower’s stopped. You put the porcelain in the dishwasher and shut it as you hear footsteps down the hall. It’s almost ten o’clock. 

“Hey, baby girl,” Bucky greets your back as he enters. “I just put fresh water in the hot tub. Might go for a soak myself, try to loosen up these muscles.” 

You face him, “hot tub?” 

“Oh, yeah. Guess that’s new too.” He chuckles. “Another one of my projects.” 

“Right,” you nod. A sudden buzz makes your jump. 

You look around and scurry across the kitchen to grab your phone. It’s a message from your mom. But why would she text you? Can’t she just come downstairs? 

‘Is Bucky still there?’  

You stare at the message and frown. Huh? 

“Everything okay, doll?” Bucky asks. Your eyes flick up. 

“Um, yeah, erm, it’s my mom...” you shake your head. 

“Right, how’s work going for her?” He plants a hand on the counter and leans. 

“Work? It’s her day off,” you blink. 

“Ah, yeah, she said she didn’t want to wake you up when she left. She got called in. Emergency.” He explains. 

You clutch the phone as you stare at him dumbly. Why didn’t he mention that earlier? Well, it’s not on him, you could have checked. But if she’s gone, why is he still here? 

“Don’t spoil the surprise,” he says, “about the lawn.” 

“I won’t,” you look down and text her back. 

“So how about it? You up for a soak?” He asks again. 

“Um, I’ll think about it. Just gonna chat with my mom,” you waggle your phone at him and meander to the door. 

‘Great. You two can get to know each other.’  

Her answer is disappointing. You thought she’d be surprised, maybe confused. It’s all perfectly normal to them. You’re still adjusting. If she’d told you before you got there, it wouldn’t feel so strange. 

At the same time, you don’t want to let her down. You can’t just ignore her message. You have to try but you feel like you haven’t even had time to settle in. And he’s not the only thing that’s different. Your room doesn’t even feel like yours. 

You stand at the bottom of the stairs. You key in a final reply. ‘Ok’. That’s it. A tepid agreement. 

“Hey,” Bucky surprises you again. “Invitation stands,” he wipes his forehead, his bicep bulging as he does, the muscles of his chest straining. “I’m just going to get in my trunks.” 

“Uh, I... I’ll think about it,” you make yourself take a step up and climb steadily, refusing to look back. 

You stare at the phone. You don’t want to be rude. You’re sure there’s a reasonable explanation for why your mother didn’t mention him. You might do the same in her shoes. After so long being single, she was probably just letting it pan out. 

Still, she could have said something when you were on the train. 

Whatever. It’s not your place to complain. You’re still living under her roof, rent-free, after years of tuition on her dime and a lifetime of dependency. You can pretend like this is all okay. 

You go into your room and shut the door behind you. You wouldn’t have a swim suit in the dresser, you didn’t bother to pack it for college. Wherever your other clothes are, it should be there. You just don’t know where that is. 

A tank top and shorts should do the trick. You prefer that to an actual swimsuit. It won’t feel so revealing.  

You take out a hot pink spaghetti strap shirt and a pair of black shorts. You switch out your clothes, catching your foot in the shorts and tripping slightly. You stand up, shirtless, leaning on the vanity as you get your balance.  

You glimpse your reflection and shy away. You tie the string of the shorts and reach for the tank top. You pull it over your head and check yourself in the mirror. It will do. You hope. 

As you come out of the room, another door opens. You peer down the hall as Bucky emerges from your mother’s room. You gulp and flick your eyes away from him. He wears a pair of light blue shorts, so short you might mistake them for briefs. His thick thighs and torso flex with his movement as he approaches, a towel over his shoulder. 

“You changed your mind?” He asks as he comes closer. 

“Erm, well, I... I’ll give it a try. I’ve never really been in a hot tub, so...” You poke your fingertips together nervously. You don’t want to tell him your mother told you to be social. 

“Great, kinda feel like a loser sitting in there by myself. It’s really too bad your mom had to go in.” He sighs. 

Yeah, it is. You wonder why he didn’t mention it sooner. Or why he’s hanging around. You guess you don’t really know how things work around here anymore. 

“Don’t forget a towel,” he winks as he pats the one on his shoulder. “I’ll go get the cover off and you can come hop on in.” 

He brushes by you, his knuckle glancing off you as he does. You shuffle down to the linen closet and take out a towel. You don’t follow him right away. 

Your stomach is a flurry of nerves. It’s just the oatmeal. It always sits like a lump. You didn’t think about that, you were just hungry. 

You go downstairs and drag your feet to the back door. You come out onto the deck and peer around. The tub sits in the deck, installed where the table used to be. It steams as Bucky steps into it. He sighs and groans, muscles clenching up his back and sides. He must work out a lot. 

You look down at yourself. Self-consciousness creeps over you. It’s been a while since you thought so much about it. You tried not to focus much on your body; as long as you liked what you’re wearing, you don’t worry about what’s underneath. You don’t have the most extravagant taste but you have a few cute pieces. 

He lowers himself into the water and lets out another drone. He shifts around to face you but doesn’t seem to notice you as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. He takes a deep breath so his chest puffs out. 

You set your towel next to his on the small table near the edge. You near and stand at the lip of the tub. Can you just sneak away? 

“Hey,” his voice rolls over the bubbling water, “it’s not bad. Come on. It feels great. It’ll loosen you right up.” 

You nod and bite your lip. You get down on your butt before you ease yourself down onto the seat of the tub. The water steams and spits just beneath your shoulders. It is nice though it does raise a thick sheen across your forehead. 

“Mmm, trust me, when you’re mine age, you’ll need one of these,” he smirks. “So,” he stretches his arms around the frame of the tub, “what’s the plan, doll?’ 

“The plan?” You flap your lashes. 

“For the summer? Beach days with the girls? You wanna invite some friends over? You can have the tub to yourself,” he offers. 

“Mm, no, I... I’m looking for work. Uh, probably send out more applications.” You shrug. 

“Looking for a job? Ah, right, no more school, huh? Exciting. You got the whole world in front of you.” 

“Mhm, yeah,” you reach to rub your neck. 

“I’m sure you’ll still have time to hang out with your friends,” he insists. 

“Uh, I don’t... I don’t really have any,” you utter. You look away and stare at the fence. 

“No? Well, all my buddies are too busy for me. I know how you feel.” He says, “you know, we could be friends.” 

“Um, yeah, maybe,” you look at him again as you chew your lip. His eyes snap up from your chest. You look down and try not to show your horror. Your nipples are entirely visible as the pink fabric clings to you. You cross your arms. “You’ll be busy with my mom.” 

“Not all the time,” he says “You know, ever since she got this promotion, she’s been too busy for me.” 

“Ah, erm, I'm sorry.” 

“Why are you sorry?” He asks. 

You shake your head, “I don’t know...” 

“Mm, I know why,” he tilts his head. 

You stare at him in confusion. 

“You know a guy like me shouldn’t be kept waiting around. You’re a sweetheart, aren’t you? You can’t help but feel bad knowing I’m left all on my own. Lonely.” He traces a finger along the edge of the tub as he speaks. 

“I... guess. I don’t... know? I just...” You look away again. You can hardly stand the heat of the water as it boils your blood. 

He snickers and you wince as he shifts around the tub, sliding into the seat next to you. He slips his arm behind you as he does. You shrink down and stare at the deck railing. What is he doing? 

“This is nice, isn’t it? Getting to know each other?” His fingers tickle your shoulder as he crowds you. “You know, seems like we have a lot in common, doesn’t it?” 

“Um, erm,” you squirm in the seat. “I think... maybe... I should...” 

“Relax, it won’t do you any good if you don’t relax,” he girds. “I’m just saying, baby girl, seems like we’re both pretty lonely.” 

He leans back into the hot tub and lets his head fall back. You bend your arm, rubbing your other, and fidget. You want to just go but you’re scared to move. You don’t think you’re really afraid of him, he probably won’t stop you, but you’re just all locked up. 

You sit there, staring through the slats at the green lawn. The water babbles and your ears pulse. He continues to caress your shoulder. 

“Mm, baby girl, come on, just let yourself...” he taps your arm, “lean back, huh?” 

You obey. You lean back into the tub and slide down in the seat, trying to mimic him. Your head hits his arm as you recline. It is nice as the jets shoot up your back. 

“Wait, wait, you gotta get in the right...” he grabs your thigh and drags you towards him. “..place. Make sure you hit all the pressure points.” 

As he moves you, you spasm and cry out in surprise. A jet blows right against your shorts, a stream of water that sends tingles through you. You try to move back but he holds you in place. He squeezes your thigh and kneads. 

“Ah, yeah, baby girl, right there? Doesn’t it feel good?” 

You squeak as the water hits your clit through your thin shorts. You put your hand on his and wiggle. That only makes it more intense. Does he know what’s happening? 

“Please...” you gasp. 

“What did I say? Relax,” he continues to rub his fingertips into your thigh. “You’re all tense, baby girl. Let it go.” 

Your eyes round and you contort, trying to take the pressure off your clit. It doesn’t help. You puff out and grab onto his arm without thinking. He needs to let go. You can feel a throbbing inside of you. It hurts. Please, stop. 

The sensation crests and coils through you. Your muscles clench then release all at once. You squeal in shock and shame as your body twitches. You think you just... orgasmed? 

“Baby girl, what is it?” Bucky leans into you. 

“I...” you heave. “I-- nothing.” 

“Mmm, nothing?” His hand crawls up your leg and over your stomach. He twists and bends his arm, cradling your head and turning you to face him. You shiver as he cups your chest through the wet fabric and runs his thumb over the hard bud beneath. “Cause I think you just came in this nice clean water.” He leans in closer until you feel his breath against your lips, “baby girl, I thought you were going to be good for me?” 

[thebenjiblackwoodexpress]

Devil's Snare Part. 8

Aemond Targayen x Reader

Description: A raven arrives to King's Landing carrying news of Prince Lucerys' death. Aemond returns to find his wife has reverted back to the timid and fearful girl he'd first met, horrified by his actions and terrified of the darkness that festers within him.

Previous part

Writer's note: Here it is, the part I've been scared to write as this story has been mostly fluffy up to this point. This is angst city I'm not going to lie. I took inspiration from Stephanie Garber's Once upon a broken heart series. Even more angst to follow in the next part. Thank you as always to all you lovely readers!

Warnings: Aemond being possessive and a little toxic. Angst, angst, angst. Seriously, Aemond is in the trenches because his wife is mad at him. Female reader.

Years of training with Ser Cole to gain mastery over the sword, years spent studying to embody all that a Targaryen Prince should be, years bonded to the largest and most ancient Dragon in existence...all had taught Aemond control. But at the very real threat to those he loved at Aegon's coronation, the realisation that he did not have the power to guarantee the safety of his family, Aemond felt his tenous control over himself, over everything around him slipping.

Seeing Lucerys Velaryon again at Storm's End had been incendiary to Aemond, who already burned with rage and a desire for vengeance. The fear of losing those he loved, his fury at the Strong pup parading about the kingdom trying to steal his brother's inheritance, a loathsome feeling of vulnerability in the face of the boy who'd taken his eye from him and paid no recompense. All had lead him on a path of violence that there could be no turning back from. In killing Lucerys Velaryon, Aemond had begun a war that could lead to nowhere but death and destruction. He felt nauseous as he watched with horror the mangled pieces of Arrax fall from the sky. His mind swam with conflicting fears as he felt the true weight of what he'd done hit him, tightening his grip on Vhagar's reigns, the feel of the leather beneath his hands the only thing vesting him with a sense of reality. It did not matter that he had not meant to kill Luke, all that mattered was that he had lost control of himself and his dragon in turn. The Blacks would seek to retaliate tenfold, and if anything happened to his family now it would be his fault. The thought sent a jolt of fear tearing up Aemond's spine and he struggled to breathe, gasping for air. Then he thought of Y/N's reaction. He pictured her face contorted with disgust at his actions or worse still fear of him. The image sobered him somewhat as if a pitcher of ice cold water had been thrown over him and cleared his muddled senses. He gripped Vhagar's reigns and angled her in the direction of King's Landing. He expected it would not be long before Storm's End became aware of what had transpired and they would inevitably send ravens. He could not bear the thought of his wife hearing of what he'd done from any other lips but his own and that conviction had him pitching forward to urge Vhagar to fly faster.

The Prince's worst fears were realised the moment he stepped foot in the Red Keep as he was immediately rushed by his mother and The Hand, demanding explanations from him he could scarcely give and he knew then that he was too late. Whilst he had been panicking atop the clouds of Storm's End, Lord Baratheon had sent his ravens.

Aemond inhaled deeply, tentatively opening the door to the chambers he shared with his wife. Y/N's hair was mussed as if she'd been yanking at it and her breath was ragged as she paced about the room in agitation. Her head snapped up as he entered and he felt the look of fear in her eyes, of what he had done or of him, pierce his very soul.

He took small experimental steps towards her, unable to stop himself from reaching towards her. Though he immediately halted when she held a hand out to stop him.

Aemond was surprised to hear Y/N's voice break the silence first as whatever explanations, or apology he had prepared died on his lips.

"Is it true. Did you kill a child?" Both her gaze and her question were direct, but the waver in her voice sent a pang of pain through Aemond's heart.

He dropped his head, regret crashing over him all over again and contending painfully with the desperation he now felt to make Y/N understand that killing Luke had been a terrible mistake.

His voice got stuck in his throat as he took note of his wife's trembling form, the tears in her eyes threatening to spill over at any moment. He nodded almost imperceptibly and watched in horror as Y/N brought a hand to her mouth to ineffectively smother a sob, a look of utter devastation and betrayal on her beautiful face before she turned away from him entirely.

Her breathing turned more erratic and she clutched her abdomen as if physically pained by his confirmation of the terrible truth that her husband was a kinslayer.

"It was a mistake." Even to Aemond, this sounded laughable, a pathetic excuse and when Y/N spoke again, her voice was icy.

"You told me once that I was your light, an escape from the darkness that has ever haunted you since you were a child. But Aemond, what you have done..."

Y/N shook her head and rubbed the tears from her eyes, turning back towards him with a fiery resolve that Aemond had never seen lighting his wife's eyes.  "Was it all a lie? Was I simply ensnared by pretty words that dull the senses. Is this who you have always been?"

Aemond stepped towards her again, his words frantic. "No, you know I would never harm you."

Y/N looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. "I don't know anything anymore."

Aemond reached for her again but felt his own face crumple as Y/N flinched away from him, his arms falling back to his sides rigidly. 

He took a step back, holding his hands out in a placating gesture.

"I will not touch you if you do not wish me to."

Y/N said nothing, only continued to stare at Aemond with wide and fearful eyes.  Aemond watched her carefully, wishing to beg for her forgiveness but realising she was in too much shock and much too upset with him to take in his accuses.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he bowed his head to her, trying to keep his voice even though he felt his throat constrict painfully at Y/N's rejection. "I will leave you for now. You need have no fear of me." Aemond turned on his heel, quickly exiting the room, not imagining there could be anything more painful to him than the way Y/N was looking at him, with such unbidden terror, as others had his whole life, as if he would hurt her.

Y/N felt as if a mist had been removed from her vision. For all that she had shared with Aemond and for all she'd thought she knew him, she could never have imagined him capable of murdering a child.

She didn't believe it at first when the raven arrived, couldn't believe it. Had her husband not already told her that he'd long ago forgiven Lucerys for the loss of his eye? Had he not allowed his nephew Jacaerys to strike him, laughing it off? But in the space of a few short hours, Aemond had slain his nephew, become a kinslayer and started a war. Y/N was not prepared for this life and her mind was consumed by fears of what was to come. For surely Rhaneyra would seek vengeance. Worse still was the fear that she'd never known Aemond at all. Had she been in love with a mirage this whole time? Y/N recalled reading of a plant in a book of botany helaena had insisted she borrow, that while attractive to look upon was deadly to the touch. Devil's Snare it had been called. Even its flowers were toxic, able to cause delirium or hallucinations. Is that what had happened to her when she fell in love with Prince Aemond Targaryen, not fully understanding how dangerous he truly was? She'd paced their shared chambers, hoping beyond all hope that Lord Baratheon was mistaken. That Aemond would return, sweep her up into his arms and reassure her that it was all a big mistake, that all would be as it was. But she knew by the look on Aemond's face as he entered the room, by the slow and careful way he approached her, that nothing would ever be the same between them again. It did not stop her from asking the truth of it and with his nod of confirmation she felt the breath knocked from her, clutching at her stomach to hold herself together.

She'd finched involuntarily as he made to touch her, his eyes widening in alarm as a sob tore through her. Y/N was reeling from the unsettling feeling that had wound its way deep in the pit of her stomach that she no longer knew her husband. And what she did not know about him, what she could not understand in the conflicting images of him as a loving and gentle husband and a man who could murder his nephew, caused a wave of genuine fear to rise up within her. Perhaps he would lash out if she spoke to her horror at what he'd done.

Though Aemond quickly dropped his hands, wincing as if in pain at her rejection of his touch. Part of her wanted to reach for him, beg him for an explanation, tell him that everything would be OK though she knew it wouldn't. But she was rooted to the spot, lost in staring at her husband who until that moment she'd thought she knew better than any living soul. As Aemond exited their chambers she felt little relief. He had said "for now" and Y/N was certain he would try to speak with her again on the morrow. She doubted she'd be any more prepared than she was now to hear his excuses, to force herself to come to terms with the fact that he had killed a child in cold blood.

When Aemond entered their chambers the next day, Y/N noted the determined set to his shoulders and the seriousness of his expression and knew that this time he would not leave until she'd heard his explanations. Y/N had tossed and turned the entire night before she'd come to her own decision, and nothing Aemond said could sway her from it. She needed space to think, to begin to fully come to terms with all that had transpired in the last few days since Aegon had been crowned...to consider how they would move forward knowing now what Aemond had done.

Aemond spoke quickly, allowing no room for interruption.

"I know you are upset with me, that you are afraid. But I ask you to hear what I have to say, my love." He paused briefly, observing her before continuing as he seemed to find what he was looking for in her expression.

"I did not wish to distress you any more than I could see you were. But I must tell you now that whilst my actions were brash, I had no intention of harming my nephew, only of intimidating him. I acted out of anger and I lost control. I am sorry for it."

Y/N was gladdened at least to know Aemond had not intended to kill his nephew, but it did not change the bitter fact that he had. And she could not as easily accept this as she knew he wished her too.

She wrung her hands nervously, frightened to ask for what she wanted. Aemond appeared calm in the moment, but she had seen first hand how quickly his temper could turn.

Her voice came out meeker than she would have hoped. "I wish to be installed in separate chambers for the time being." It hardly mattered. Aemond stumbled a few steps backwards as if she'd shouted at him.

His voice was ragged.

"Why?

Y/N lowered her gaze to the ground, unable to look up at Aemond.

"I cannot pretend that I am not horrified by what you have done. And I need space to even begin to comprehend it...let alone try to forgive you, Aemond."

Aemond's response was breathless, as if he were trying to speak though a pressing weight pushed down on his chest.

"You cannot stand to be in my presence then? Do you no longer love me?"

Y/N gawked at him.

"I'm not sure I even know you any more Aemond. If you could just allow me some time to think..."

Aemond practically snarled in response, his anger taking Y/N by surprise.

"So easily you cast our love aside. You were meant to stand by me always as my wife. Am I not your husband?"

Y/N felt her own anger rise up and she pushed through her timidity to voice it.

"So I must forgive you any transgression, silently stand by as you commit atrocities? Simply because I am your wife? My thoughts and feelings are my own."  Within seconds Aemond had crossed the room and possessively gripped her waist. "You are mine." 

Incensed, Y/N tried to push against the cage of his arms, huffing in frustration when she failed to move him even an inch. "You cannot possess a person, Aemond...If all you want from me is placid acceptance then perhaps it would be better to dissolve our union." She had not truly meant it, regretted it as soon as the words had left her mouth. But her words had the desired effect as Aemond's eye widened and his arms slackened around her. In the next second he had dropped to his knees in front of her, gripping her skirts. He placed his forehead against her stomach, his anger seemingly entirely dissipated, his touch and voice all gentleness. "No, my love. I will give you anything. But not that. Never that. I did not mean it. Of course your mind is your own and I always want you to speak it. Shout at me, tear this place asunder, strike me if you must. I can live without your forgiveness if you feel you cannot give it, I can live with you hating me.  But I cannot live without you."

Y/N felt her own heart soften at his gentleness, but she was still too upset with him to just fall straight back into his arms.

"Then will you agree to my request?"

Aemond tensed, his grip tightening slightly on her hips before he nodded against the fabric of her dress.

"If it is what you need, then I will see to it."

Y/N prised Aemond's hands from her then, equal parts relieved by his assent and pained at seeing him this way.  She whispered a hurried "Thank you" before moving around him and hastening from his chambers. She expected to meet resistance with every step but as she passed over the threshold she briefly looked back to see thst Aemond had not moved even an inch.

In the days that followed, Aemond scarcely saw Y/N at all. If he did it was  a mere glimpse as she hurried down a hallway, headed for the chambers his mother had settled her in at his request. He had made to speak to her on one occasion as he's come across his lady wife emerging from her chambers. But as soon as she saw him she quickly retreated back into her room. Aemond had rested his forehead upon the door that separated him from his love briefly, feeling the distance between them like a dagger to the heart. He had not meant any of the harsh words he had spoken when they'd last met. Her rejection had stung him and he had lashed out like a petulant child, spoken to her and acted as if she were a possession of his rather than the woman he loved. In his own disgust at himself he'd tried to bear their separation as best he could, but he hoped that with time Y/N's heart would soften to him again. He did not think he could bear what was to come without her at his side.

Two more days passed before he heard the sound of Y/N's voice again. Aemond came across his wife again in halls adjacent to his sister's chambers. She'd stopped, seemingly choosing between turning back the way she'd come or crossing paths and a clumsy servant boy bumped right into her, prompting her to pitch forward. Aemond swiftly darted forward to catch his wife by her waist, pulling her upright and holding her against him as he roughly shoving the boy away away from her. He glared at the boy, speaking through gritted teeth. "Watch yourself."

The boy looked shaken as he stuttered frantically. "My sincerest apologies my Prince, Princess." He nodded at them both before practically sprinting down the hall away from them, leaving Aemond and Y/N alone.

Still holding Y/N in his arms, Aemond took the opportunity to look upon his lady, though he was concerned to observe the dark shadows under her eyes and a certain hollowness in her cheeks. He lowered his head to gaze into her eyes, tentatively raising a hand to brush a lock of hair from her face.

He spoke softly, eager not to scare her away.

" Are you well?"

Y/N nodded, though Aemond noted that she looked anywhere but at him.

"Yes." Her timid reply sent a pang through his heart. He had fallen in love with Y/N's shy and gently nature quickly when they'd first met. It had inspired a protectiveness in him he could never have anticipated, endeared him from the first. From the moment he'd rescued her from Helaena's pet spider she had always just been his shy girl in is mind. But her return to the timid creature who could barely stand to look at him pained him beyond measure.

Lost in his own thoughts, he almost didn't catch Y/N's next words.

"I must go."

"Must you?"

Y/n did not reply, but  she began to push against him to extricate herself from his hold.

Aemond felt himself becoming desperate. "Please, my love."

"Release me, my Prince." Aemond let Y/N go as if she'd scorched him. In a way she had with her use of his formal title, as if she didn't know every part of him, couldn't see into his very soul, as if he were nought but a stranger.

Aemond found himself grateful to Aegon for offering him a place on his small council. Discussions on tactics and strategy gave him ample distraction during the day. At night he could not stand the conflicting feelings of guilt and loneliness that threatened to consume him, heightened by the emptiness of his chambers without the presence of his beloved wife. Each time a maid would enter his chambers he'd startle, feeling strangely as if he were seeing a ghost of the girl he loved. He could not stand it for long and spent his nights wandering about the Keep or the filthy streets of King's Landing, only returning to his chambers in the early hours of the morning when he was wearied to the bone.

His mother regarded him with an air of suspicion and wariness now, blaming him for starting the war with The Blacks. But seeing him look so piteous, she'd softened somewhat and Aemond was glad of the news she would bring him of his wife, of her daily customs and health.

He was unsurprised to learn that she had taken to spending the better part of her own evenings in his sister's chambers, often sleeping there. He'd observed with affection the tender bond his wife had developed with both his sister Helaena and her children.

The hour was late when Aemond came across Y/N again, making his way through an ante chamber that led from the household chambers to the lower levels of the keep just as she had surely been heading to his sister's chambers. She stopped in the middle of the room at the sight of him and Aemond halted, mimicking her movements. A fire crackled in the hearth on his left, casting a warm glow that illuminated Y/N's features. For a brief moment Aemond willed the flames to burst free from the hearth and set the room ablaze, just so he would have an excuse to carry her from it though he knew his touch was no longer welcome. Realising the mad turn his thoughts had taken he decided then and there that he had to fix this. He could not stand Y/N's silence any longer, this distance she had imposed between them. He had to make her understand.

"I will not deny the bitterness I have long felt towards Lucerys for taking my eye and receiving no punishment for it. But I never meant to kill him. It is true, I pursued him but it was his fear I wanted, not his blood. I wanted him to feel as I did when he took my eye. I did not anticipate Arrax retaliating in defense of his rider and...in truth I lost control of mine own dragon."

Y/N's expression turned pensive and conflicted as she mulled over his words 

"You killed a child, Aemond. Lucerys was no match for you or your dragon and yet you pursued him."

Aemond shut his eye briefly, inhaling slowly as he tried to calm himself enough to answer Y/N without frightening her further. He would not shout at her again. But he needed her to understand that the moment the crown was placed on Aegon's head, war was inevitable. He regretted Luke's death, but he could not undo it.

"There must always be casualties in a war. If it had not been my hand that struck the first blow then it would have been Rhaenyra's."

Aemond's voice sounded colder and more unfeeling than he'd hoped, but to him it was a plain and simple fact he'd long grown accustomed to. His siblings had been raised to fear their sister Rhaenyra, by virtue of their posing a threat to her claim to the Iron Throne.

Y/N's voice shook slightly as she spoke, though Aemond was glad at least that she met his gaze now and had not run from him.

"Aemond it was monstrous."

It was like a dagger had been thrust through his chest. Aemond had always been aware of whispers at court of the one-eyed Prince, of his disfigurement and intimidating presence. They had only grown louder since the news of Prince Lucery's death became common knowledge. But while Y/N had undeniably been wary of him when they'd first met, she'd never treated him as others had. She'd been able to see the good in him, the light in the darkness and pulled him towards it...towards her. But he loved her, and he knew that she still loved him too or she would not have listened to his explanations at all and would not still be standing before him. He recognised the warring emotions in her eyes, the agonising mixture of sadness, fear, and longing, because he knew she could see the same conflict in his one good eye.

Aemond suddenly felt that it did not matter if Y/N did think of him as a monster, as long as she thought of him, as long as long as she thought of him as hers.

"If that be so then I am your monster."

Y/N's eyes widened in shock, though he noted how they quickly softened as she shook her head sadly at him. She turned her face to gaze at the flickering flames and Aemond had to lean towards her to hear her.

"You are not a monster, Aemond. That is not what I meant. You would not regret your nephew's death if that were the case."

Aemond quickly closed the distance between them, emboldened by her words, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to draw her to his chest.

"I am glad to hear you say so for I cannot stand this silence any longer. I love you and whatever horrors I have wrought you must believe that I would never do anything to harm you. The thought is inconceivable to me. Can you find it within your heart to forgive me, to love me again my darling girl?"

Y/N sighed but Aemond felt his heart stutter as she leant against him rather than pushing him away as he'd expected.

"What would that make me Aemond? I was never prepared for this life of political intrigue and machinations, for violence and warfare."

Aemond tentatively raised his hand to cup the back of her head tenderly but the loud clacking of footsteps had Y/N jumping away from him, his hand falling to his side again.

A moment later his grandsire entered the room, shooting Y/N a withering look as she hurried past him. Aemond kept hoping she'd glance back at him, but she did not.

Angrily he turned on Otto.

"You frightened my wife, grandsire."

Infuriatingly, Otto bore an expression of amusement as he quirked an eyebrow up at Aemond.

"A wife would not scorn her husband as she does you, Aemond. The whole court has observed her unseemly behaviour towards you, her lord husband who she should obey. She makes a mockery of you. Aemond, you and your dragon are the single greatest power in this war and if she does not realise the importance of this fundamental fact then perhaps it is time for you you consider the disolussion of your marriage."

Aemond felt his blood heat and his temper rise dangerously. He did not wish to harm his grandsire, it would only upset his mother. But neither would he allow Otto to speak of his wife in such a way. He'd become far too comfortable doing so.

"I do not care for whispers. Y/N is my wife and she can do as she pleases. I will not impress myself upon her if she does not wish it but I will not listen to you continously besmirching her either. If you suggest that I annul my marriage again, I will kill you grandsire. I have already been branded as a kinslayer and it would serve you well to remember it."

For once, Aemond could see a flash of genuine fear in Otto's eyes as he was seemingly stunned into silence. Aemond brushed past him, not caring to wait for a response. He bristled with irritation as he passed the throne room, hearing his brother and his friends drunkenly inventing denominations for him as king upon the iron throne. He hoped that the cold night air would help to clear his mind though tonight he felt that the stars looked less desolate, the dark streets of King's Landing less eery and sinister. For a weight had been lifted from him when Y/N leant into his touch, when she'd told him that he was not a monster.

Aemond felt a sense of foreboding when upon returning to the Red Keep around the Hour of Ghosts, the whole keep seemed to be wide awake and and in a state of dissaray. Pulling his cloak from his shoulders, Aemond questioned the first guard he saw.

"What is the meaning of this raucous?"

At the sight of him the guard visibly paled but stayed infuriatingly silent.

"Speak quickly you fool."

At the Prince's stern command the guard stood to attention.

"The Queen was attacked in her bedchamber, my Prince and the young Prince Jahaerys slain. We have yet to find the perpetrator."

Aemond felt as if the ground were collapsing between him. His sweet sister, his little nephew...how could this have happened? Dread seeped into the pit of his stomach at the sick realisation that his wife tended to spend her evenings with his sister and her children. He'd seen her making her way in that direction before he'd left...left both his wife and sister unprotected.

"Where is my wife?"

The guard swallowed loudly, stepping back a pace. "Princess Y/N was with the Queen in her chambers during the attack. I believe they are both with the Queen Dowager now."

Without another word Aemond took off at a run, his heart pounding in his chest and his blood thrumming in his ears.

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[romiiq]

Part 2 of this

It had been a few months since Valentine’s Day, and Rafe had been pulling away more and more. He would disappear for hours without explanation, brushing off your questions with vague excuses about work or family. You’d ask him where he’d been, but he’d never look you in the eye. His answers felt hollow, like he was present, but not really there.

Tonight, though, was different. Topper had convinced you to join him and Sarah for drinks at the country club—a rare evening where you weren’t sitting at home, waiting for Rafe to come back from wherever he’d been. Sarah had even bought you a new dress, and as you stood in front of the mirror, you tried to convince yourself that tonight was going to be fun. You needed this.

"You look amazing, Y/N. Seriously," Sarah grinned, nudging you. "Forget about my brother for a night. Just… enjoy yourself."

You forced a smile, nodding. "Yeah, I’m trying." The truth was, it felt nice to be out, to laugh at Topper’s dumb jokes, to have a drink in hand instead of staring at your phone, wondering if Rafe would even bother coming home tonight. Laughing at some stupid joke Topper said you looked away from your friends to encounter someone.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him. At first, you thought you were imagining it—the dim light, the crowd, your mind playing tricks on you—but then you recognized that beautiful blonde hair and those wide shoulders and last but not least her.

Your heart clenched. Sofia. 

She was sitting in a dimly lit corner, her hand threaded through Rafe’s hair, pulling him close as she whispered something in his ear. He leaned in, smiling at her the way he used to smile at you, his fingers resting comfortably on her waist.

"Y/N?" Sarah’s voice was cautious, as she followed your gaze. "Oh my god…" She said as Topper followed muttered a “Fuck”.

"I-I need some air" you whispered, stumbling to your feet. You blinked back the shock, the betrayal sinking in like a heavy weight.

“Hey, wait—” Topper started, but you were already pushing through the crowd, your heart racing, and your senses numbed. You didn’t want to hear their pity, didn’t want to explain. You just needed to get out of there before you fell apart in front of everyone. You made it outside, the cool night air hitting you, but it did nothing to soothe the storm inside you. You stood there, hands shaking, trying to make sense of what you’d just seen.

He’s with her. He’s always been with her. Your mind shouted as the noise behind you started to face and a cold sweat creeped on your back. Meanwhile Sarah confronted her brother who just ran to you before you could collect yourself, footsteps echoed behind you. You knew who it was, you could recognize him even blind.

"Y/N…" Rafe’s voice was low, his tone already defensive.

You turned slowly, your eyes locking with his and your shaky arm raised, stopping him in his tracks. "Don’t." Your voice was sharp, filled with more hurt than you had ever imagined.

“Y/N, I can explain,” Rafe started, stepping toward you.

You shook your head, taking a step back. "Explain what, Rafe? That you’re still in love with her? That you’ve been sneaking around behind my back this whole time?"

Rafe flinched. “It’s not what it looks like—"

“Oh, really?” Your voice rose, incredulous. "Because it looks exactly like you’re cheating on me with the girl you’ve never let go of! How long has this been going on? How long have you been lying to me?" His silence told you everything his mouth didn’t.

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Not in front of him. He didn’t deserve them. "You called me by her name, Rafe," you whispered, your voice shaking. "That night… on Valentine’s Day. You said her name in your sleep."

His face paled, his mouth opening to say something anything to fix it, as his mind raced trying to remember, but you cut him off.

"You kissed her the same way you used to kiss me, or maybe you were kissing me as you used to kiss her" you continued, your chest tightening and your voice raising. "And I sat here, trying to convince myself that I was enough. That you’d forget her if I just loved you harder, if I tried harder. But I was never going to be enough for you, was I?"

“Y/N, please… listen to me, it’s not like that—” He reached for your hand, but you pulled away nauseous and flowning, the sting of his touch too much to bear. Sarah and Topper stumbled outside looking for you with worry written across their faces. Sarah immediately ran to you as Topper followed her cautiously.

“Y/N, do you want to get out of here?” Sarah asked gently, grabbing your arm, glancing warily at Rafe. 

“No, let her stay," Rafe snapped cold as always with his sister and desperation showing. "I need to talk to her.” But you shook your head, feeling the weight of everything fall on your shoulders. You were done.

"I’m done, Rafe," you said softly, but firmly. "You’ve made your choice. It was always Sofia." Rafe’s eyes filled with panic, his voice breaking. “Y/N, please… don’t walk away. I—I love you.” 

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away a tear. “You love the idea of me, Rafe. But not me and I don't even know if what I said first it's the truth. If you did, you wouldn’t have gone back to her.”

Topper stepped in, putting a hand on Rafe’s shoulder. “Man, maybe you should back off, let her breathe.” “Stay out of it, Top!” Rafe barked, his frustration boiling over pushing Topper aside. But you had already started to walk towards Topper’s truck, Sarah by your side, as Topper stood his ground and pushed Rafe back, keeping him in check.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah whispered, her voice heavy with guilt. You smiled sadly at her. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.” Rafe’s voice called out to you one last time as Topper held him back. “Y/N! Please… I can fix this!”

But you didn’t turn back. For the first time in a long time as you hopped in Topper’s truck, you felt a sense of clarity. This was the end. And maybe, just maybe, it was the beginning of something better.

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[strawberrychampayne]

baby, i was that oblivious…

bradley bradshaw x fem! reader

warnings: none, like one swear word lol

word count: 1205

summary: oblivious!bradley x affectionate!reader!! after realizing his mistake rooster races to try and undo damage he didn't even know he was creating. will he be able too?

Rooster's heart was beating out of his chest as he rushed to his bronco. He could feel his breathing getting heavier as he felt around his jeans for his keys. Why couldn’t he find them? After feeling the same pocket five times he heard the jingle of his keychain and pulled them out. Rooster turned the key in the driver's side door and threw the door open. Slowly at least, this truck was his second love, right after her. Groaning, he threw his head back and stopped for a second to catch his breath in his car. He put the key into the ignition and his engine roared to life. Putting his truck in drive he peeled out of the parking lot and began to race to Y/N’s house. 

Rooster felt like his mind was going one hundred miles a minute. Would Magnet even forgive him? What if she just ignored his explanation? What if she never wanted to talk to him again? No. Magnet wasn’t like that. She got upset with people in the dagger squad before and still made up with them the next day. She would forgive him, right?

Bradley decided to make a quick stop at the store to grab some flowers. He would’ve preferred to have gone to a florist but it was 10 pm and nobody was open. So begrudgingly he grabbed the keys out of the ignition and the rumbling of his truck stopped. Taking a deep breath he thought back to something Y/N had said. 

“I’m just saying what kind of man doesn’t get a girl flowers, Hangman?” Y/N questioned

“The kind that doesn’t care about his lady, Mag. That’s who.” Rooster replied, from behind her. 

“Uh huh, and what kind of flowers have you gotten Roo?” she said, her eyebrow raising.

“I don’t go on many dates but the ones I have gone on I got them based on personality from said girl.” Rooster shot back.

“Personality? Well Roos, what kind of flower would you get me?” Y/N said. 

“Well Mag, you seem like a daffodil kinda girl, so daffodils.” Rooster replied, coolly. 

“Tulips. I like tulips, Rooster. So close and yet so far, huh?” Y/N said with a small smile on her face. 

“As much as I’d love to sit here and talk flowers with you two, I have a date tonight to make up for my last one and I need help.” Hangman butted in. 

Thinking back Rooster began to smile. His girl was like a flower. Beautiful and full of life but delicate. It felt as though he was ripping her petals off at this point. Rushing past many people he made it to the flowers. While scanning the selection his attention was caught by bright pink tulips. Coincidentally near the daffodils. Grabbing the tulips that were wrapped in brown paper that felt almost like a paper bag he all but ran to the checkout line. Swiping his card he grabbed his bag, thanked the cashier kindly and zipped out the door. He walked back to his truck and clambered inside. Turning the key in the engine once again he pulled out of the second parking lot of the night, except this time he was slower. This was the main road after all. 

After driving for 10 minutes he pulled up to her house. He felt his heart rate rising as he pulled to a stop in front of her driveway. He knew she had come home based on the lights that were on in the living room and bedroom. 

He remembers helping her move into this house. She wouldn’t let him carry up a bed until she almost fell down the stairs and he caught her. He carried all the furniture up the stairs after that. 

‘

Rooster pulled his visor down and checked to see how he looked. Did he always look stressed out? Fixing his messy hair and straightening out his tropical attire, he took a deep breath and stepped out of his car. 

He practiced what he was going to say all the way up to her door. He felt like he was shaking as he reached up to knock three times on her door. He waited a moment trying to hear any movement in the house. After waiting for two minutes, he counted anxiously in his head, and he knocked again. Then he heard the shuffling over feet as they ascended the stairs and stood behind the door. 

“Go away. I don’t want to see anyone, Nat.” Y/N said her voice was croaky. He could hear her pacing slightly near the door.  

“Um, it’s not Nat. It's a Rooster.” Rooster replied. 

The pacing behind the door stopped suddenly. He could hear a groan before the door opened quickly. 

“I really don’t want to do this right now, Bradley. I told you I wasn’t feeling well.” she said quietly. Going to shut the door, it was stopped by Rooster's foot. She felt a rush of emotions hit her. 

“I know but I also realized I was a complete dick tonight. I didn’t realize what you were insinuating. Please just let me talk to you.” Rooster said, his voice low. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Bradley. I have been trying everything in my power to get you to notice me. I took so much courage to be able to even ask you that. I understand that you are not required to like me back but I am allowed to be hurt I feel.” she said as tears began to stream down her face again. 

Rooster felt his heart start to break. He was at a loss for words as he watched her shoulders slump and her lip quiver. Seconds felt like hours as he tried to rack his brain for something to say. Did he apologize again or try to explain? Unfortunately for him you began to speak again.

“I don’t know if you were just oblivious to what I-”

“Yes! Y/N, baby I was that oblivious but I’m not anymore. I just want to make this all up to you.” Rooster cut her off. “And I’m so sorry for making you cry and feel like I didn’t like you back but I promise I want to make this up to you. Please.” 

“I just can’t, Bradley. You have to go. I will see you at work tomorrow.” she said, tears still falling. 

“No, sweetheart please I just want to fix this” he rushed out

“The best thing you can do is leave. I said I’ll see you tomorrow. Goodnight Bradley.” she said before sliding his foot out of the way and shutting the door. 

“I’ll just leave these here and see you tomorrow, Mag. Um, goodnight.” Rooster said, getting no reply. 

Rooster made a vow right there that he would do whatever he could to win her back. She could say run laps and he’d ask how many? His body felt tense as he walked back to his bronco. He quietly pulled out his keys and pulled away from her house. The drive back home was quiet as he planned to do something, anything, to win his Magnet back.

taglist:

@missmarveledsblog @tianna8320

so here's part 2! I was originally going to only do 2 parts but felt like it would be so rushed so here's a little angst. please let me know your thoughts! stay hydrated, stay healthy, stay perfect! - strawberry🍓

[veronicaphoenix]

IKIGAI — ADDITIONAL CHAPTER

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Lia Parker

Summary: Lia tells Noah she had sex for the first time, and the news doesn't sit right with him. She doesn't feel very thrilled about it either.

Word count: 2.7k | Reading time: 10mins aprox | Series masterpost ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: best friends to lovers trope, lia has a boyfriend, talks about sex, about lia's first time, disappointment, lia being infatuated with noah, mentions of noah having had sexual encounters before but still being a virgin, sexual innuendos, noah feeling jealous and confused.

This chapter takes place between chapter 13 and chapter 14 of Ikigai (part one of The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight Series). Lia and Noah are 21/22.

The moment his phone started ringing and the screen lit up with Lia’s name, Noah paused mid-typing, slipped off his headphones, and answered. Her hurried voice hit his ears before he could say anything.

“Noah, are you home? Is anyone else there?”

Noah frowned, taken aback by her urgency. 

“Hello to you, too, Gremlin. Yeah, I’m home. Why?”

“Are the boys around? Jolly, Jesse?”

“No, I’m alone. What’s up?”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

Noah’s eyebrows shot up. The way she spoke—it almost sounded like she was asking for permission to come back to her own home. 

“Lia, what’s going on?”

“I’ll tell you when I get there.”

Lia disconected the call. Noah remained frozen in place, still perched on his studio chair, staring at his iPhone as if expecting the screen to offer some explanation. 

It didn’t. 

This was Lia’s house, too. They’d been living together since she’d turned eighteen, so why was she acting like a stranger? She hadn’t been home last night, though. She’d gone out with friends, said she’d stay over at Emery’s. Now it was barely eleven in the morning, and this call felt... strange. Something was off, and the knot of unease tightening in Noah’s stomach told him whatever it was, he wouldn’t like it.

Twenty minutes later, the front door burst open. Lia stormed in, her backpack slung over one shoulder, her hair tied in a very messy bun, her face set in agitation—not fear, not hurt, just stress. As soon as her eyes landed on Noah, standing in sweats and a t-shirt in the middle of the living room, her expression shifted to disappointment.

He raised his arms, wordlessly asking what the hell is happening? She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she dropped her bag and rushed to him, wrapping her arms around his chest with a sigh, melting against him as though she’d been holding her breath for hours.

“Lia, are you going to tell me what’s going on?”

It took her a moment before she spoke. 

“I slept with Leon last night.”

Noah’s blood ran cold. He pulled back, grabbing her shoulders, but she clung to his shirt, refusing to let go.

“Lia,” he said, his voice strained. “You...” His head shook. He blinked rapidly. “You had your first time with Leon?”

She nodded, avoiding his eyes now.

His mind reeled, thoguhts scrambling in every direction. 

“Lia—We said we’d do it together. That we’d have our first time at the same time.”

Lia sighed, already anticipating his reaction. It wasn’t like she hadn’t thought about it, too—their weird, half-serious pact, made when they were younger, with all the naivety and awkwardness of two people trying to make sense of their feelings. But now, standing here, it felt like a relic of something neither of them could hold onto. How could that have ever worked, anyway?

She took one step back to look him in the eyes, trying to be practical.

“Noah, how did you think that would go? You in one room with some random chick and me on the other side of the wall?”

“No, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, pacing. He hadn’t been expecting his quiet Sunday morning to turn into this; whatever this was. “Fuck, Lia.”

It hurt. It hurt a lot. But why? Was it just because she’d had sex? Because she did it before him? Or because she’d done it with someone who wasn’t him?

Lia sighed again and walked to the open kitchen, reaching for the kettle. She hadn’t eaten breakfast and was starving. The subtle ache between her legs didn’t help her mood, either. She reached for the kettle, filling it with water. Behind her, she could hear Noah collapse onto the couch.

“I’m sorry,” she muttered, fingers drumming on the counter as she waited for the water to boil.

Noah stared blankly ahead, his thoughts a mess. The idea that Lia wasn’t a virgin anymore—it didn’t sit right. It felt like a puzzle piece has been shoved into the wrong place, forced, stuck forever. His jealousy, or whatever it was, mixed with confusion. But then, an uneasy thought surfaced, shifting everything inside him. 

He stood up abruplty, the sudden clarity jolting him.

“Shit. Lia, did he hurt you?”

She whipped around, startled by the sudden sharpness in his voice, kettle in hand, steam rising.  

“No,” she said flatly. “He didn’t hurt me.”

Noah studied her face, unsure if he believed her. Whether or not she was telling the truth, one thing was certain—he would have never let that happen. He would’ve made sure she felt safe, cared for. Even if they were both inexperienced, they would’ve figured it out together. They always trusted each other like that, in ways that seemed to run deeper than words.

“Then what?” he asked, his voice softer now but still loaded with confusion. “Why do you look like this?”

She turned back to the kettle, her movements robotic, avoiding his gaze. 

“He just... finished, and that was it.” she said, pouring the water into a mug, her tone hollow. “I’m not hurt. I’m disappointed. I didn’t know it would be like that. I thought it’d be more... exciting. There was some thrill at first, but then it just... faded into nothing. And...” She bit her lips, her cheeks flushed a little. She was glad Noah couldn’t see. “I didn’t come,” she added quietly.

Noah stood frozen a few feet away, his mind scrambling to process what she was saying.

“He didn’t notice. Or maybe he didn’t care.” Her voice cracked with frustration. “He just thought it was over.”

Before he could react, she crossed the room, collapsing against him again, her forehead resting against his chest. Her arms hung limp at her sides.

“Oh, God. Noah, it was so disappointing,” she said. “You wouldn’t let a girl feel like that, would you?”

Noah stiffened. He wasn’t sure how to answer.

“I know you wouldn’t,” Lia murmured softly, her voice thick with a mix of frustration and resignation.

“Lia, I...” Noah began, but the words faltered. He had no idea what to say. He wasn’t much more experienced than she was. Sure, he’d gone down on a few girls, fumbled with his fingers and his mouth. Some cheeky girls had touched him, but that was it.

“You don’t have to be experienced for that,” she interrupted, looking up at him with a spark of hope in her big brown eyes. Noah felt a familiar weight press against his chest. Lia had always seen something in him, something pure, as if he were some kind of angel or hero, when in reality, he was full of flaws, just like anyone else. If she was so infatuated with him because of how he treated her, she should know by now—that kind of treatment was reserved for her.

“You just need to be considerate,” she continued. “You are considerate.”

“Lia,” he said, his voice firm as he gently grabbed her shoulders and pushed her back again, creating a bit of distance. She frowned at his authoritative tone.

“Promise me,” she blurted, before he could say more.

“Promise you what?”

“That you’ll be considerate. That you’ll make her come—whoever she is. Any girl. Every time. Always.”

“Jesus Christ, Lia,” Noah groaned, turning away and heading back to the couch, rubbing his forehead in frustration. 

Lia trailed after him, relentless as she picked up her cup of tea and sat next to him on the couch, close enough that their legs touched.

“You can’t just ask me that,” he muttered, snatching the cup from her without asking and taking a sip. The hot liquid burned his tongue, but he didn’t care.

“Why not?” she pressed. “It’s advice. It’ll be good for you.”

“Maybe I don’t need advice,” he snapped, a bit sharper than he intended.

Lia raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. 

“Your ego is showing, Sebastian.”

Noah rolled his eyes and handed back the cup. 

“It’s not about ego. I’m just saying maybe it’ll go fine without us having to talk about it like this.”

Lia sighed, slumping slightly against the cushions, conceding the point, though she wasn’t fully convinced.

“Maybe,” she mumbled, her voice quieter.

She hadn’t expected him to feel uncomfortable discussing this—especially with her. But his attitude suggested otherwise. She bit her lip, a twinge of regret flickering across her face.

“I just needed to talk to you,” she said a bit ashamed, and the tenderness in her voice caught him off guard.

Without thinking, he placed a hand on her knee, squeezing lightly through the fabric of her black leggings. His head lolled back against the sofa, eyes locking on hers. Once again, it hit him—how beautiful she had always been. As a kid, she’d been cute and full of energy. Now, as an adult, she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

“I know,” he said, voice low. “I know.”

“I just got worried. I don’t want other girls to go through that disappointment. I know, sometimes, it’s part of the experience, of growing up, learning, but...” She hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t want it to happen when they’re with you. You can’t be a disappointment, Noah.”

“You’re setting the bar really high, Lia. I don’t know if I’ll ever reach it.”

“You’d never let me leave the room like that, would you?”

Noah let out a heavy huff, shaking his head.

“Lia, I’ve already warned you. Don’t make this weird, please.” 

“It’s only a question. You can just answer it. Or don’t. I know the answer. You wouldn’t leave me unfinished.”

He gave her an exasperated look, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“You’re so much trouble, Lia Parker.”

"I’m not, I promise. I’m just a girl asking for equality,” she replied, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. “But if you have your doubts, I could give you more... detailed advice, if you want.”

“No. Absolutely not.”

“All right, your loss,” she concluded, raising a hand in mock surrender.

Noah couldn’t help but laugh, rolling his eyes. He gave her knee a light pat. 

“You’re so dramatic. You know that?”

“I’m not. I’m just... unsatisfied,” she admitted, shaking her head at the memory of how disappointment last night had been. “I need release,” she uttered before she could stop herself. 

His eyes widened as he processed her words. She wasn’t playing around—this wasn’t some offhand joke or a ploy to shock him. She was genuinely frustrated, still reeling from the lack of fulfillment the night before. For a brief moment, a flood of inappropriate thoughts ran through his mind—ways he could help her, ways he could get involved. But he quickly pushed them aside.

“I’m breaking up with him,” she declared, her voice decisive as she lifted the cup of tea to her lips and taking a slow sip. “I don’t care if he thinks I just wanted him for sex. I definitely don’t want him for sex after that.”

Noah could have told her it was only her first time, that things could get better with practice. She could talk to Leon, communicate, learn together like couples were supposed to. They’d only been together for a few months, after all. But deep down, Noah felt a sense of relief. He didn’t want to give her advice on how to fix things with her boyfriend. He was content with her decision, and he wasn’t going to argue with it.

It might’ve been selfish, but single Lia meant more of her at home, more of her for him. Leon could learn how to get a woman to orgasm with someone else.

“Can we spend the day watching movies and eating junk food?” Lia asked, her big puppy-dog eyes making it impossible to say no. She was the queen of that look, and she knew exactly how to use it on him.

Of course they could. He would never deny her anything. But where was the fun in giving in so easily? He leaned back, a smirk curling at the edge of his lips.

“Didn’t you say you needed... release? Don’t you wanna go to your bedroom first?”

“Oh, Noah!” she gasped, giving him a playful punch on the shoulder, her laughter tangling with his. “You’ll never know when I’m doing it. I’m very quiet.”

She was, indeed. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t strained his ears a few times, hoping to catch something from her bedroom at night.

“Really? So, when you get wet, you don’t go full Gremlin mode?”

“I swear, Sebastian, if you don’t shut up, I’m spilling this tea all over you.”

“I’m already hot enough, thanks.”

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You’re pushing it.”

“Says the one who barged in talking about sex and orgasms.”

“Ugh, you might be right, but—”

“I am right.”

“All right, fine.” She paused, then leveled him with a serious look. “You have to promise me, though, that you’ll think about them—not just yourself—when it happens.”

“Ooookay.” He lifted his pinky finger toward her, the smirk still lingering. “I promise.”

She laced her pinky with his, sealing the deal. 

“Happy now?” He asked. 

“Not really. It’s still weird thinking about you with other girls, but yeah, better than I was thirty minutes ago.”

Noah narrowed his eyes, studying her face, trying to read her thoughts. There was something unspoken between them, an invisible thread that always seemed to pull tighter the closer they got. 

He let out a breath, feeling the subtle shift between them. It wasn’t the tension that was there earlier; it was something softer, more familiar. With Lia, things never stayed too heavy for long. It was one of the things he loved about her—things could be strange, awkward, but they never broke.

Lia settled next to him, nudging her shoulder against his as Noah turned on the TV. He suggested they play some video games instead of watching a movie, and she agreed, completely unaware of the storm brewing in his mind. Inappropriate images flashed through his thoughts—images of them together, naked, her soft commands in his ear as he obeyed, eager to make her feel as good as she deserved. He wondered what it would be like if she said the words, if she let him, if they crossed that line. How much would he give to her? Everything, if she asked.

Not long after that day, Noah lost his virginity. It was with a girl he’d met at a friend’s house—a black-haired girl who had sparked some fleeting interest in him. He hadn’t thought much of the girl at first, but when they started dancing together, he felt… attraction. 

The night they had sex, they had all been out at a club, Noah, Lia, Matt, Jolly, and their usual group of friends. 

Lia had seen them on the dancefloor—caught a glimpse of the girl kissing Noah’s neck, her lips lingering too long. Something twisted inside her, an unwelcome feeling she didn’t quite understand. She told herself to get a grip and finished her beer in one quick gulp. When Noah and his new girlfriend passed by her on their way out, Lia winked at him, already tipsy, her face flushed from the alcohol.

Noah hesitated. He wanted to stay, to make sure Lia got home safely like he always did, but the girl tugged on his arm, pulling him away. He found himself torn between the pull of his present and the weight of his responsibility to Lia. But for the first time, he didn’t stay.

Later that night, with the black-haired girl in his bed, all Noah could think of was Lia. He tried to focus, to be in the moment, but her presence was a ghost in the room. Every girl after that night would carry the same haunting thread—because every time he had sex, Lia was there. Her promise, her words, lingered in his mind.

He had sworn to her that he’d be considerate, that he’d make every girl feel special, and he did. But what Lia didn’t know was that every girl he touched, every one he pleased, was just a stand-in. No matter whose legs he was between, no matter who whispered his name, his thoughts always circled back to her. Lia was always in his head. The promise he’d made to her—it was her name, her face, her pleasure, that guided every move.

And that secret was one he’d carry with him, long after the girls were gone.

🔖 The Inevitability of Love at Second Sight taglist:

@somebodyels3 | @respectfulrebel | @thecoyotescry | @bluestdai | @lma1986

@sweetwombatpizza | @missduffsblog | @shilohrosechicken | @jilliemiw86 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[halfwayhearted]

Arda Güler fic where he feels you are being distant and starts to overthink which leads to him asking if you were going to break up with him out of nowhere and it causes a small argument…. angst to comfort perhaps. Get back to me as soon as possible. Thank you for your time!☀️

Velvet Mood — Arda Güler.

Pairing: Arda Güler x Fem!Reader

Summary: Something’s on his mind, and you don’t know what it is. You’re determined to find out; you just didn’t think it’d be about whether or not you’re planning to break up with him.

Word Count: 810+

Disclaimer/s — Nothing, angst to comfort!

A/N: I’M ILL. THIS. + their argument wasn’t what I had hoped but I lowkey got stumped so, let’s knock it off. Thank.

Arda was distant. Too distant. It worried you a lot.

It all began when you came home one day, utterly exhausted from a long day at work. You longed for nothing more than a shower, some food, and to collapse into bed. That was all you could muster.

Arda brushed a hand over your hair, and you felt the soft touch of his lips against your temple. “Hey, how was work? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“‘M tired,” you grumbled, “It was very grueling.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Do you want to watch some TV?”

Your eyes flutter shut, and you shake your head in response to his question. “Not now, please.”

It was a small, simple response, yet it had him thinking the absolute worst. Most days, you’d agree and just fall asleep with your head resting lazily against his chest and your legs thrown over his lap. But to receive a ‘Not now, please’?

It was… different. He didn’t quite like it at all.

Since then, the things you used to do were starting to become memories. A simple thought now captured the feeling of contentment.

You tried to talk to him. He simply brushed it off. Brushed you off. In all honesty, you were slowly becoming tired of it. Day by day. Like a routine.

Today would likely end the same way. You’d try to talk to him, he’d give you nothing to work with, and then you’d call it a night. You’ve fought. Maybe not subtly, but you still fought. Tried to.

“Arda,” you started softly, “How was your day?”

His eyebrows raised for just a split second before he shrugged his shoulders. You saw the way his jaw clenched, it confused you. “It was fine. You?”

“Fine, too. Can… I want to talk to you about—”

That was when he uttered your name, cutting you off, “Listen, are you going to break up with me?”

What? You voiced your exact thoughts, “What?”

“Are you?” He echoed, his voice firm. Though you could tell he was clearly upset. Arda was upset.

You were at a complete loss for words. The only question that escaped your lips, filled with curiosity, was, “Where is this coming from? Did I do something, Arda? I need you to talk to me.”

Did I do something, you had asked. He could’ve laughed. “Did you? Or, did I do something.”

“No, you didn’t do anything. Where is this—I’m confused, why is this even a question? I love you, you know that. So, where is this coming from?”

“Don’t give me that,” the man sighed, averting his gaze. “You’ve changed. You seem tired. Tired with me. Of me. And if that’s the case, I need to know.”

‘Tired of me.’ Tired of him? You were never tired of him. You never have been, and you were sure you never would be. Ever. Your job had been weighing you down, of course, but you never thought it’d slowly but surely impact your relationship like this with your boyfriend. It never crossed your mind.

You felt a crushing weight of guilt in your heart.

Taking a step toward him, you began, “I’m not tired of you. And… no, I’m not breaking up with you. God, never that, okay? I’ve been working extra hours, and it’s starting to take its toll on me. I didn’t mean to put you in that position. I don’t want you to keep thinking that. Trust me when I say that I love you. Because I do. So much.”

His expression softened at your explanation. You weren’t planning on breaking up with him. Arda couldn’t help but feel a little foolish. He knew the promotion you got would have its effect. He just didn’t realize how worn out it’d make you.

It all started to make sense. Oh, how dumb.

The brunette felt his entire body relax and let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I should’ve just asked you. I didn’t mean to just let it out. Put you on the spot.”

“No, no, hey, I’m glad that you did,” you assured, quickly lifting your hand and using it to cup his jaw. “I’m glad that you did. I wouldn’t have found out how you felt. How about we make one of those calendars? We can set, like, dates, and days where it’ll be dedicated to just us. How’s that?”

“You’d let me know if you’re too tired for them?”

A smile slowly spread across your face, “I would.”

Arda hums softly at that, leaning down to place a gentle peck to your temple. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, drawing you closer to him.

“I’m really starting to hate your job,” he muttered.

And you laughed. Of course he did. He would. All you did was let out a laugh, “But, you love me.”

The Güler man hummed once more, “I love you.”

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedrilcvr ! ౨ৎ

[winchesterwild78]

A Twist of Fate

Characters: Dean x Reader, Billy x Reader

Warnings: Nothing too extreme, just some angst, language, and fluff

A/N: Got this idea from a picture I was tagged in by @jackles010378. Sorry it took me so long to write this. Dean and the reader were dating and broke up. Dean sees the reader with her new boyfriend and things unravel. 

This is a work of fiction, all work is my own, do not take it or copy it. 

Minors DNI 18+

The crisp autumn air nipped at my nose as Billy and I strolled down Main Street. The leaves were a kaleidoscope of reds, oranges, and yellows, a beautiful contrast to the gray sky. I couldn't help but think about how much my life had changed since I'd last seen Dean.

Three years. That's how long we'd been together. Three years of laughter, love, and a shared passion for the supernatural. And then, just like that, he was gone. A letter, a simple explanation that he couldn't be with me anymore. The pain had been unbearable, a wound that had slowly healed, leaving a scar that I would always carry.

That morning I woke up and found the letter on his pillow. It was the day my world broke. Tears fell on the letter as I read his simple words. 

Dear Y/N,

These past three years have been great. We’ve shared so much and done even more together. I know you love me. You’ve said it so many times, and showed me every day. I just can’t lie to you anymore. I don’t feel the same. That’s not fair to you, to make you think we have a future together. One where we get married and have kids. I can’t do the apple pie life. I’m sorry, Y/N. I do hope you find the love you deserve.

Goodbye,

D

It didn’t make sense to me. We had just shared a night of love and passion, tangled in each other’s embrace. Whispering words of love and affection. We talked of the future and he said he’d love to be a dad one day. He was the love of my life, then he was gone. 

Now, here I was, two years later with Billy. He was kind, considerate, and everything a good man should be. But a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that something was missing.

We met through a mutual friend and had an instant connection. I wouldn’t call it love, but I was grateful for the companionship. I hadn’t even spoken the words to him. Billy was quick to say “I love you”, but I couldn’t say it because I didn’t mean it, nor did I feel it. 

Billy spent all of his free time with me. At times it felt suffocating. Dean and I spent a lot of time together too, but we also had our time apart. I’d bake and he’d work in the garage, it was a perfect balance.

Walking hand in hand through Main Street my mind kept comparing him to Dean. When Dean and I would walk, his arm was around me in a protective way. Billy just held my hand. Dean would lace his fingers in mine, Billy just cupped my hand. 

When Billy kissed me, it was hard and fast. When Dean kissed me it was soft and full of passion. Every step I took my mind kept comparing Billy to Dean. I couldn’t figure out why Dean was in the forefront of my thoughts.

And then I saw him. Leaning against the Impala, looking as effortlessly cool as ever. Dean. My heart pounded in my chest as our eyes met. A flash of something crossed his face - regret? Jealousy? I couldn't be sure.

As we continued walking, I glanced back. He was still watching, his gaze fixed on me. A wave of emotions washed over me. I stumbled as I looked back. I saw him gasp and jump off the car. Billy grabbed my arm trying to steady me. “You okay?” I nodded. I couldn’t pull my eyes away from Dean. Billy followed my gaze. Clearing his throat I turned and met his eyes. “Who’s that?” He asked, his voice laced with hurt and something else, anger maybe. I looked at Dean then back at Billy, “he’s my ex.” 

Billy wasn’t happy. I could feel the tension between us. As we walked into the quiet cafe he shot me a look that sent a chill through me. The cashier offered a soft smile. “How can I help you two today?” She said with a sweet voice. Billy looked at her and said “We will both have a coffee with 2 creams and 1 sugar.” She nodded as she started to put in the order. I spoke up, “Um, excuse me. I’ll have a vanilla latte please.” Billy shot me a look and grabbed my hand, “No, you’ll have what I ordered you. You’re my girlfriend and you’ll have what I order.” 

The cashier stood shocked. My mouth was on the floor. He’d never acted like this before. I touched his bicep softly, “Billy, I am your girlfriend, but I can order what I want.” Billy huffed and mumbled something. The cashier told Billy the total and she went about making the order. 

When we had our order Billy directed me to a booth at the back of the restaurant. I sat across from him and looked at him, shocked by his behavior. “You want to tell me what the hell that was about, Billy? Since when do you order for me and grab me?” Billy just stared at me, anger flashing in his eyes. It honestly scared me. 

“I didn’t like how you kept staring at pretty boy out there. It’s like you’re in love with him or something.” I bit my lip, not knowing what to say to him. I was in love with him. I never stopped loving him, but how could I tell him that? 

I swallowed hard. Touching Billy’s hand I started to speak, “Billy, I was in love with him when I was with him. He broke my heart and I’m with you now. That’s all that matters.” 

Billy pulled his hand away from me. “So you can love him but not me? You know what, screw this. Why don’t you go back to him and be his little whore again.” I gasped, “Billy! What the hell. Please calm down. I don’t want to be with him, I’m with you.”

Before I could say anything else, Billy stood up and told me to have a nice life and left. I sat at the table in shock. What the hell just happened? How did one little thing set him off like that? 

I sat at the table thinking about the past few years, how my love for Dean slipped away, and how Billy reacted to me seeing Dean. I was lost in thought and didn’t hear the bell above the door. 

The sound of a deep husky voice pulled me from my thoughts, “Hello, sweetheart.” My eyes flicked up and they met the piercing green eyes of my favorite hunter. My breath caught in my throat, “D…Dean, what are you doing here?” “Sammy and I were in town on a hunt, I heard you moved here. I’m so glad I ran into you. Can I sit?” 

“Sure.” I said without hesitation. Dean sat across from me. His hands instinctively grabbed mine. My head is screaming at me to pull away, but the rest of my body is holding on for dear life. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I was foolish and a complete jackass for leaving and for leaving you the way I did. I was scared. I had finally found the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, have children with, and I got scared. Scared you would be taken away from me. Scared because I don’t deserve the love you had for me. I’ve never deserved love or to be loved. I’m broken, Y/N. 

As I sat across from him, hearing him say how he didn’t deserve love my heart broke for him. “Dean, you deserve so much.You, Dean Winchester, deserve all the love in the world. You were four years old when you saved your brother from the fire, you raised him. Dean, you had to be mom and dad to Sam. Dean Winchester, the man who willingly went to hell to save his baby brother, the man who was willing to die for so many people. Dean Winchester, the man who took on the Mark of Cain to help save the world. You deserve all the love this world has to offer. You deserve so much more than I can give you. I NEVER stopped loving you, Dean, and I know I never will.”

Dean stood and walked over to me. He reached out his hand and took my hand in his, pulling me up and flush to his body. He tucked a piece of hair behind my ear, and his hand cupped my face, “You are even more beautiful now than you were two years ago. I was a fool to let you go, and I intend to spend the rest of my life making that up to you. That is if you’ll have me again.” 

I leaned into his hand that cupped my face. My heart hammered in my chest. His touch ignited that fire, that love I had buried deep inside me. Without another word I leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his lips. It was soft and Dean hesitated for a moment. Then something changed. His hands went into my hair and pulled me in. The kiss became more passionate and full of need. 

The hurt from the past two years was fading with each kiss. When we finally parted, I looked at Dean and smiled. His eyes are full of love and desire. “Dean, take me home.” I said as I leaned into his embrace.

Dean took my hand and led me out of the coffee shop and to the Impala. He opened the car door and I climbed in. When he got in the driver’s seat, he looked over, smiled and took my hand. “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stepped on the gas and we headed back home. Home, where we both belonged, together and in each other’s arms. 

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[l0stfoster]

As a Marcia x Two-Bit shipper, their entire relationship in Cursed Tulsa seems interesting. Do you have more information on it?

Just as Timewing got super excited about Darry, Novva got really excited about Mar-bit so I let her take the lead on this one.

Let it be known that Mar-bit itself isn’t set in stone to be canon, since we like to leave some of the stuff open for interpretation, but people are free to read into their relationship however they like; hence Novva’s explanation about them!! Like last time, Novva's bullet point for each section is the first one, and any comments of mine are the second bullet. The rest is below the cut >:)

How the relationship starts.

- Pretty obviously, it actually doesn’t even begin right off the bat. They really do start off as friends who kinda kiss in private. For a while, it was likely just a relationship that they would so subtly stare at each other respectfully but because of Social Norms, the whole Cursed thing, and Marcia’s reputation, they both essentially thought of each other as something they love but cannot have. (This is arguably the first time Marcia has had a relationship like this, where she cannot even enter a relationship with him without permanently damaging her reputation as a Soc.) When they do get together, it is likely months after the events of the book and when Two-Bit’s finally given the chance and beginning to digest and recover from the trauma he received at his jumping. Since Johnny’s got his mobility aids by now, the prosthetic is likely in the works, and Paul’s making up with Darry, gives Two the perfect opportunity to heal himself mentally and try to see if he can trust Marcia like how he once did. - Novva's spot on. Two doesn't even trust being around Marcia for the first few months post-jumping, but over time she finds a way to rebuild that bridge between them and they begin to bond again. He's still on edge, and freaks out anytime she touches his wings (whether accidental or purposeful), but he knows she's not trying to be malicious. My rough estimate is it's probably 5 or 6 months post-jumping that they give their relationship a chance; as it gives Two time to heal but also would give Marcia the chance to decide if she's willing to risk her reputation if word ever got out.

The cracks in the relationship.

- For instance; Two-Bit is terrified of being hurt again even though he knows Marcia wouldn’t hurt him like how her friends did. The jumping was an experience that traumatized him to the point of not even trusting his own mother for a while, and his mother wasn’t even there! How could he even trust his girlfriend, who was there and witnessed it all first-hand? Another crack is Marcia’s willingness. She fought tooth and nail for his trust and everything else and definitely wasn’t taking other’s bullshit. It uneased Two-Bit at first, seeing someone he thought was soft and innocent, full-on just beating up one of the many Socs who mutilated his wing and tortured him. He knows she means well, but isn’t it still scary to see it? - Yyyyeah Two was definitely super closed off and defensive for a long while, even when he watched her step up to his defense. Trust is a difficult thing to gain, and although she does get it back, he knows better than to give a soc that much leeway for a good while. The irrational part of his brain can't help but wonder if that attitude she holds against the socs who jumped him could be turned onto him as well; if that makes sense.

The relationship as a whole.

- They are very good for each other. They have a very similar sense of humor, regularly joke with each other, all that shit. (Someone referred to them as Brains ((Marcia)) and Brawn ((Two)) and definitely got punched though) Two-Bit is an affectionate person by nature and instinct, and Marcia just goes with the flow and will accept nearly everything given to her. - Novva's pretty spot on. The only thing I can say is that I doubt Two would care for the Brains and Brawn joke, it's probably Marcia upset on his behalf and he's just there like an unbothered king

The first time preening.

- It definitely comes as a surprise to Marcia. She knew the importance of preening for Harpy from Evie (they’re besties and I will fight you if you say they aren’t) but even then Evie doesn’t know much. Anyway, it was fully a surprise when the two were just cuddling and he asked. Mind you, at this point in time, Marcia had avoided so much as to brush a hand on the wings out of fear of him getting scared or even attacking her. It took about 20 or so minutes for Two-Bit to even so much as get used to Marcia’s touch, a touch he’d been terrified of at first. There were multiple times he flinched and she’d stop entirely. If you can’t tell yet I think about them a lot. And I also have more. #sedatemeplease It takes even LONGER to show PDA. Both of them love affection but are scared shitless of being jumped by someone over it. That doesn’t mean they won’t absolutely cuddle and softly kiss the shit out of the other if given the chance. No, they aren’t that couple that makes out in class but there's been a few instances where it got close to that /silly - I don't have much to comment on lmao, Two definitely had to be the one to propose preening compared to Marcia's offering, but he was definitely so on edge when he asked. Honestly, I can imagine they had 2 or 3 failed attempts to preen (where Two asked, they tried, and he got too freaked out to continue) but they did eventually figure it out <3. I think that Two was likely less anxious about PDA than Marcia since his nature as a flock creature makes him pretty clingy and a big affection fan, but he restrained more for the sake of her reputation.

The feather necklace.

- As stated before and in my doodles of it, the feather that Marcia was gifted is in fact, woven into the necklace itself (destroying the feather = destroying the entire necklace itself) It’s got some shiny parts in it, small beads or and other parts of jewelry that was taken actually from the little trinkets that Two’s given Marcia on her windowsill. Marcia did not break her own jewelry, her mother wouldn’t let her. Marcia was hesitant to wear it in public at first, that new but terrifying fear of having this taken away from her very much showing. She did keep it on her person though, it kept Two-Bit happy even if she wasn’t sure if it was safe to wear it yet. It was never safe to wear it in lmao. - I have nothing to add this is on the dot too LMAO.

MARCIA’S FIRST JUMPING!

- Taking this from Foster’s post, but Two was seriously pissed off and also scared shitless for her. While she was on a walk, for a while he would fly behind her and would swoop down to pick her up if he saw ANY Soc car slow down near her. Eventually, she was able to take walks without his dive-bombing, but she was forced to take a weapon in case things got out of hand. And he absolutely got other Harpies involved. Angela Shepard herself might not like Marcia all that much due to her being a Soc, but she was absolutely hell-bent on torturing Bev for weeks. Bev’s tires were slashed, and she got jumped for the first time and had it arguably worse, but the message was delivered either way. Evie also definitely took part in intimidating Bev in the jumping. - Nothing to add, the girls look out for each other <3 As they should.

[artyandink]

amoralism | sixteen

SUMMARY: You and Dean Winchester are the top agents from Major Crimes. You’re also assigned as partners on the same case- a crime syndicate is running loose and buying out most of downtown New York. He hates you cause you hate him. You hate him cause you think he got in his position with his daddy’s influence. But this case is personal to one of you more than the other- and you may be getting too personal for comfort.

TW: Dean’s the mole, gunfire, angst

SERIES MASTERLIST

Song Inspo: I Love You, I’m Sorry by Gracie Abrams

symbolism

Gunfire echoed down the narrow alleyway as you ducked behind a dumpster, your heart pounding in time with the chaos around you. The tang of gunpowder filled the air, sharp and bitter, while shouts and the whir of bullets slicing through the air surrounded you.

Dean Winchester. You hadn’t seen him in months—maybe even a year—but there he was. The same cocky grin, the same dangerous gleam in his eyes as he fired off rounds at you and your team. It should’ve been impossible. This was the man you once knew like the back of your hand, the one you trusted with your life. Your partner, your lover, the man who could light your soul on fire with a glance.

But now? Now, he was a ghost—a rogue agent for a crime syndicate that called itself "Hell." And you weren’t just chasing a man who’d betrayed the FBI. You were chasing a Knight of Hell, a force to be reckoned with. Dean Winchester had fallen, but the pull between you both had never quite broken.

"Clear!" came the shout from one of your fellow agents. You broke from cover, your legs moving on instinct as you sprinted after him. You knew where he was going; you could feel it, as if some invisible tether still tied the two of you together. The beat of your shoes against the cracked pavement mirrored the frantic pace of your thoughts. You shouldn’t care. He was a traitor, dangerous. But damn it, you needed answers.

The alley split, and you turned down a narrower path, barely able to keep Dean in your sights. His broad frame vanished behind an old, weathered warehouse door. You hesitated for half a second, heart pounding in your throat. This wasn’t protocol. Going in alone? Chasing a Knight of Hell with nothing but a gun and a grudge? But the FBI had never prepared you for this kind of battle—not when it was personal.

You slammed through the door, gun raised, but the room you stepped into was quiet—eerily so. The smell of rust and old wood filled your nose. You spun around, searching every corner, every shadow.

“Dean!” His name left your lips like an accusation, sharp and cutting. The room echoed in response. “Stop running! You owe me an explanation.”

Silence answered.

You turned again, and suddenly, there he was. He emerged from the shadows like a predator stalking its prey, his green eyes dark, unreadable, but that smirk—God, that same smug smirk—played on his lips.

“An explanation? That’s what you want?” His voice was low, gravelly, laced with something darker, more dangerous than the Dean you used to know.

“Damn right I do,” you shot back, your pulse quickening, but not from fear. Anger, frustration—something else entirely. “Why are you doing this? Why did you leave? And why the hell did you—" You stopped yourself, but the words hung between you like a loaded gun. Why did you kiss me?

Dean’s jaw tightened, his smirk faltering for the briefest moment. “You shouldn’t be here. Go back to your team, pretend you didn’t see me.”

Your finger twitched on the trigger, but you knew you weren’t going to shoot. He knew it too. “You think I can just walk away? You think this is something I can ignore? You kissed me, Dean. Then you disappeared into Hell’s little army. Now you’re working for the same people we used to hunt down. What happened to you?”

He stepped closer, and you felt the space between you shrink, the air thickening with a tension you hadn’t felt in months, maybe years. "I told you," he growled, his voice like gravel, "I don’t owe you anything."

“That’s bullshit, and you know it,” you snapped, refusing to back down. “If you didn’t owe me anything, why’d you come back the last time? Why’d you—” You caught your breath, your heart hammering in your chest. “Why’d you kiss me?”

Dean’s eyes darkened, his jaw flexing as he took another step toward you. “You really want to do this now?” His voice was barely above a whisper, but it was the storm beneath it that made you shiver.

“Yeah, I do.” Your voice trembled with equal parts anger and desperation. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, close enough that you could see the war raging behind his eyes.

Without warning, Dean surged forward, pushing you back against the cold, rough wall. The impact knocked the breath from your lungs, but before you could react, his lips crashed into yours, hard and unyielding. The kiss was angry, desperate, full of everything unsaid between you. It was fire and fury, passion and regret, all colliding at once.

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his jacket as you kissed him back with equal force. It was too much, too fast, but you couldn’t stop. You didn’t want to stop. This was what you had been chasing, what you had been missing.

Dean’s hands roamed your body, gripping your waist, pulling you closer as if he needed you, craved you, in a way words couldn’t explain. His touch was rough, desperate, as though he were trying to erase the space that had grown between you. You felt the cold metal of his gun brush against your side as his fingers slid under your shirt, and you couldn’t help the moan that escaped your lips.

You should stop. This wasn’t the time, the place. But the logic in your mind was drowned out by the heat building between your bodies. His lips trailed from your mouth to your neck, biting and sucking, leaving marks that you knew would be visible later, but you didn’t care.

“Dean…” you breathed out, your fingers tightening in his hair as his hands traveled lower, pushing past the waistband of your pants. “This—this doesn’t answer anything.”

But your body betrayed you, arching into his touch, craving more. He groaned against your skin, his breath hot and uneven.

“You want answers?” he growled, his voice low, dangerous. “This is your answer.” His hand gripped the back of your neck, tilting your head up so his eyes bore into yours. “This is all there is left.”

You shook your head, even as you clung to him, even as your body screamed for him. “That’s not true. I know you, Dean. I know there’s more than this.” Your voice cracked, and his expression flickered with something—regret, pain—before it hardened again.

He kissed you again, slower this time, more deliberate. The anger was still there, simmering beneath the surface, but there was something else too—something raw, vulnerable. His hands slowed, tracing the contours of your body like he was memorizing you, like this was the last time.

Your back hit the wall again, and you felt the cool metal of his gun holster pressing into your hip, a sharp reminder of who he was now—what he had become. But in this moment, it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the way his lips moved against yours, the way his hands pulled you closer, the way he made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t felt since the last time you were together.

It was messy, frantic. Clothes were pushed aside, discarded haphazardly as the heat between you both became unbearable. Dean’s hands were everywhere, roaming over your skin, his lips never leaving yours for long. The desperation was palpable, both of you clinging to something neither of you could name, something you both feared losing.

Your breath hitched as he lifted you, pinning you against the wall, his body pressing into yours in all the right ways. It was fast, rough, the way you both needed it to be. You bit back a cry as he pushed inside you, the sensation overwhelming. Your fingers clawed at his back, holding him closer, pulling him deeper. His mouth was on your neck again, his breath hot against your skin as he muttered your name like a curse, like a prayer.

For a moment, everything else disappeared—the shootout, the lies, the betrayal. It was just you and Dean, tangled together in the heat of the moment, desperate for something you couldn’t quite define. It was messy and chaotic, but it was real.

As the tension in your body built to an unbearable height, you felt his hand cup the back of your head, pulling you into another kiss—this one softer, slower, as if he was trying to savor the moment. Your body trembled as you came undone beneath him, and Dean followed soon after, his grip on you tightening as he buried his face in your neck, his breath ragged, uneven.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was silent again, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Slowly, reality crept back in—the sound of distant sirens, the cold air against your sweat-dampened skin, the feel of Dean still pressed against you, his arms caging you in.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours, and for a second, you saw the man you used to know. The one who made you laugh, who made you feel safe. But it was fleeting, and soon the mask slipped back into place.

“You’re still not answering me,” you whispered, your voice hoarse, shaky. “Why?”

Dean’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes hardening once more. “Because it’s too late for answers.”

The night was quiet, save for the soft rustling of leaves and the distant hum of traffic. You sat by the window, the glow of warm light spilling out onto the street, painting everything in soft shades of gold. Inside, laughter echoed through the walls. The clink of cutlery and the muffled sound of conversation drifted into the night air. It was the kind of evening that felt like home—safe, comforting, everything you deserved.

But you couldn’t see him.

Across the street, hidden in the shadows beneath the towering oaks, Dean Winchester stood still, watching. His breath misted in the cool air, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. He shouldn’t be here. He knew that. Every instinct screamed for him to leave, to turn away before the sight of you, so close but so impossibly far, tore him apart. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Beside him, Sam shifted, the quiet gurgles of his newborn cradled in his arms cutting through the silence. Little Dean—his nephew, named after him—slept in the back seat of the Impala, his soft snores barely audible over the gentle hum of the engine. Sam cast a glance at his older brother, his brow furrowing with concern.

“You sure about this?” Sam asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper, as if speaking too loudly would shatter the fragile stillness between them.

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were locked on you, on the way you smiled at something one of your family members said, your laughter so genuine, so light. It was a sound he hadn’t heard in too long. A sound he hadn’t been the cause of in far too long.

You looked happy. You looked… content.

And Dean felt like he was dying inside.

“She’s better off,” he said finally, his voice rough, raw with emotion he couldn’t quite choke down. “She doesn’t need me messing things up.”

Sam frowned, shifting the baby in his arms. The newborn stirred slightly but settled when Sam gently rocked him. “You don’t know that. You haven’t even talked to her since…” His voice trailed off, unwilling to finish the sentence, but Dean didn’t need him to. He knew exactly what Sam meant.

Since he’d left. Since he’d decided that the only way to keep you safe was to cut you out of his life completely. Since he’d broken his own heart—and yours—in the process.

Dean swallowed hard, the lump in his throat growing heavier with every passing second. “She’s moved on, Sam. Look at her.” He gestured to the window, where you were pouring a glass of wine for your sister, laughing again at something her husband said. “She’s happy.”

Sam followed his gaze, watching the scene unfold. It was the picture of domestic bliss—the kind of life Dean had always told himself he didn’t deserve. And maybe he didn’t. Not with the blood on his hands. Not with the weight of his sins pressing down on his shoulders every single day.

But it didn’t stop the ache in his chest, the one that pulsed with every beat of his heart, telling him how wrong this felt.

“You think she’s better off without you?” Sam asked quietly, his tone gentle but firm. “Do you really believe that?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. His eyes were still on you, on the way you seemed to glow in the warmth of the room, surrounded by people who loved you. It was everything he wanted for you, everything he’d fought so hard to protect you from losing.

But damn, it hurt. God, it hurt so much to see you like this, to know you were living a life he could never be a part of.

“Yeah,” Dean muttered after a long pause, his voice thick with emotion. “I do.”

Sam sighed, shifting his weight as he glanced down at the baby in his arms. “Dean, I know you think you’re doing the right thing. I know you think you’re protecting her. But… are you sure this is what she wants? Have you ever stopped to think that maybe she’d rather have you in her life, even with all the danger? Even with everything?”

Dean clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides. Of course, he’d thought about it. It was all he ever thought about. Every night, when he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, your face was the first thing he saw. Every morning, when he woke up to the empty space beside him, the space you used to fill, it was your absence that weighed him down like a stone.

But every time he thought about picking up the phone, about calling you, about telling you how much he missed you, how much he needed you, something stopped him.

He was too dangerous. His life was too dangerous. And the last thing he wanted was for you to get caught up in it. He’d already lost too many people he cared about. He couldn’t lose you too.

“She’s safer without me,” Dean whispered, his voice breaking. “That’s all that matters.”

Sam was quiet for a moment, his gaze softening as he looked at his brother. “Is it, though? Is that really all that matters?”

Dean didn’t answer. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight, his chest too heavy with the weight of everything he was trying to hold back.

Sam shifted again, glancing back at the house. The soft glow of the lights illuminated the scene inside, casting you in a warm, golden light that made you seem almost ethereal. You were smiling, laughing, surrounded by the people you loved.

But Dean couldn’t stop the thought that crept into his mind, unbidden and unwanted.

Was this happiness real? Or was it just a mask, something you wore to hide the pain he’d caused when he walked out of your life?

“Dean…” Sam’s voice was gentle, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how far to push. “You’re not failing her by wanting to be in her life. You’re failing her by staying away.”

Those words cut deeper than any blade. Dean flinched, his breath catching in his throat as the truth of Sam’s words hit him like a punch to the gut. He’d been telling himself for so long that he was protecting you, that staying away was the right thing to do. But what if Sam was right? What if, by pushing you away, he was hurting you even more?

What if, all this time, he’d been lying to himself?

Dean blinked, his vision blurring as tears welled up in his eyes. He clenched his jaw, refusing to let them fall, but it was no use. The emotion he’d been bottling up for so long was finally breaking free, spilling over like a dam that had been holding back a flood.

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears kept coming. He tried to swallow down the sob that threatened to break free, but his chest was tight, his throat raw with the weight of it all.

“I’m failing her,” Dean whispered, his voice barely audible over the sound of his own ragged breathing. “I’m failing her, Sammy.”

Sam didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes said everything. He understood. He always understood.

Dean pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to stop the tears, but it was no use. The sob he’d been holding back finally broke free, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. He hadn’t cried like this in years—hadn’t let himself feel this much in years.

But now, standing across the street from the woman he loved, watching her live a life without him, the dam had finally broken.

“I thought I was doing the right thing,” Dean choked out, his voice thick with emotion. “I thought I was protecting her. But all I’ve done is… all I’ve done is hurt her.”

Sam reached out, placing a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “It’s not too late, Dean. You can still fix this. You can still—”

Dean shook his head, cutting him off. “No. I can’t.” His voice was firm, but it was laced with a deep, aching sorrow that felt like it was ripping him apart from the inside. “It’s too late. She’s… she’s happy now. After I fuckin’ ruined her She doesn’t need me anymore.”

But even as he said the words, they felt like a lie.

Dean didn’t know what was worse—the idea that you had moved on, that you were living a life without him, or the fear that maybe you hadn’t. Maybe you were just as broken as he was. Maybe you were putting on a brave face, pretending to be okay when inside, you were just as lost, just as hollow as he felt.

And the worst part? He would never know. Because he was too much of a coward to find out.

Sam watched his brother, his heart aching for him. He knew how much Dean had sacrificed, how much he’d given up to try and protect the people he loved. But sometimes, the cost of that sacrifice was too high. Sometimes, the people you were trying to protect didn’t want to be saved. They just wanted to be with you.

“I’m sorry,” Dean whispered, his voice cracking. He wasn’t sure who he was apologizing to—Sam, you, himself. Maybe all of you.

Sam squeezed his shoulder, his eyes full of understanding. “You’re not alone in this, Dean. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Dean nodded, but the tears still fell. He didn’t feel strong. He didn’t feel like the hero he was supposed to be. All he felt was tired—so damn tired of fighting, of running, of pretending like he could outrun the weight of his own heart.

Across the street, you laughed again, and Dean’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

He wanted to believe that you were happy, that you had moved on, that you were living the life you deserved. But deep down, he knew the truth.

He wasn’t protecting you. He was failing you.

And the worst part?

He didn’t know how to fix it.

You sat at the edge of your bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. The house was quiet, the soft hum of life outside the only reminder that the world kept turning. But in here—in this room—it felt like time had stopped, like every second stretched into an eternity of silence, and your thoughts were the only thing filling the space.

Dean.

The name lingered in your mind, a familiar ache that never quite faded, no matter how much time passed. It had been months, maybe even longer now, since you’d last seen him—since he’d walked out of your life with that devastating finality. Since he’d left you standing there, heartbroken and confused, trying to piece together what had gone wrong.

The truth was, you had never stopped thinking about him. About the way he used to make you laugh, how his smile could light up a room. How, despite everything, there was always this fire between you both—a pull so strong it felt like gravity. It had always been more than just a relationship. It had been a force of nature.

But now, all that was left was the empty space beside you and the echo of his name in your head.

You shifted on the bed, curling your knees up to your chest as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to find some semblance of comfort. But it didn’t work. Nothing did.

The guilt was always there too, creeping in whenever you let your guard down. It whispered to you in the quiet moments, telling you that you hadn’t tried hard enough, that you hadn’t fought for him the way you should have. If you had—if you had—maybe things would be different. Maybe he would still be here.

A single tear slid down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away, but it didn’t stop the flood that followed. Your chest tightened, the weight of everything pressing down on you like a vice.

You’d been so stupid, so naïve to think that Dean would always be there. You’d thought that the connection you shared was unbreakable, that no matter what, he wouldn’t walk away. But he had, and the worst part was that you couldn’t even blame him. Not entirely.

Maybe you hadn’t done enough. Maybe he had been slipping away for a long time, and you just hadn’t noticed. Maybe you’d been too focused on your own life, on trying to keep your family together, that you hadn’t seen the cracks forming in the foundation of your relationship.

You could still remember the last time you saw him—the way he’d kissed you like it was goodbye, like he already knew he wasn’t coming back. You’d asked him what was wrong, why he seemed so distant, but he hadn’t answered. He’d just kissed you again, harder this time, like he was trying to memorize the way you tasted.

And then he was gone.

You hadn’t heard from him since. No phone calls, no texts, nothing. It was as if he had disappeared into thin air, leaving you to pick up the pieces of whatever it was you thought you had.

Your breath hitched as another sob escaped your lips, and you buried your face in your hands, trying to muffle the sound. You didn’t want anyone to hear you crying. You didn’t want anyone to know how much it still hurt, how raw the wound still felt.

But the truth was, you missed him. God, you missed him so much it felt like a physical ache, a hollow emptiness that nothing else could fill.

A soft knock on the door broke through the haze of your thoughts, startling you.

You quickly wiped your face, trying to compose yourself, though you knew it was a losing battle. Your eyes were already red and swollen, your breath still uneven from the tears.

“Yeah?” you called out, your voice thick with emotion.

The door creaked open, and there, standing in the dim light of the hallway, was Sam. He looked… tired. Worn out, like the weight of the world was pressing down on his broad shoulders. But there was a softness in his expression, a quiet understanding that made your chest tighten even more.

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping into the room. “Just wanted to check in before bed. Thought you might need someone to talk to.”

You forced a smile, though it didn’t reach your eyes. “I’m fine,” you lied, your voice barely above a whisper. “Just… thinking.”

Sam nodded, his eyes scanning your face, reading the emotion you couldn’t quite hide. He wasn’t fooled. He never was.

He walked over to the bed, sitting down beside you without saying a word. For a moment, the two of you just sat there in silence, the weight of everything unspoken hanging in the air between you.

You could feel his presence beside you, solid and comforting, but it only made the ache in your chest worse. Because Sam was here, and Dean wasn’t. And no matter how much you cared for Sam—no matter how much he cared for you—it wasn’t the same.

“It’s okay to miss him, you know,” Sam said softly, his voice breaking through the silence.

You closed your eyes, trying to keep the tears from falling again, but it was no use. The dam broke, and before you knew it, you were sobbing—deep, heart-wrenching sobs that shook your whole body.

“I didn’t try hard enough, Sam,” you choked out between sobs, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “I should have… I should have fought for him. I should have done something.”

Sam’s brow furrowed, his expression pained as he listened to you. He wanted to say something, wanted to tell you that it wasn’t your fault, that you couldn’t have changed what happened. But the words stuck in his throat, weighed down by the truth he wasn’t sure he could tell you.

Because the truth was, Dean hadn’t left because of anything you’d done. He hadn’t left because you didn’t fight hard enough. He left because he thought he was protecting you—because he believed that staying away was the only way to keep you safe.

But Sam couldn’t tell you that. Not yet.

Instead, he reached out, gently pulling you into his arms, letting you cry against his chest. His heart ached for you, for Dean, for the mess that his brother had made in his attempt to do what he thought was right.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he held you tighter. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt as if holding onto him could somehow stop the pain, could somehow bring Dean back. But deep down, you knew it wouldn’t. Nothing could.

“I just… I just don’t understand,” you whispered after a while, your voice hoarse from crying. “How could he just leave? How could he just… walk away like I meant nothing?”

Sam closed his eyes, the guilt clawing at his insides. He wanted to tell you that you did mean something—that you meant everything to Dean. But he couldn’t. Dean had made him promise not to say anything, not to drag you back into the dangerous world they lived in.

“He didn’t walk away because you meant nothing,” Sam said softly, his voice heavy with the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. “I promise you, that’s not why.”

You pulled back slightly, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes. “Then why?” you asked, your voice trembling. “Why did he leave?”

Sam hesitated, his mind racing as he tried to find the right words—the words that would ease your pain without betraying his brother’s trust.

“He… he thought it was for the best,” Sam said quietly, hating how hollow the words sounded, knowing they wouldn’t be enough.

You stared at him for a long moment, your heart aching with the need for answers, for something—anything—that could explain why Dean had left you like this.

But Sam didn’t offer any more explanations. He just looked at you with those sad, understanding eyes, and you knew that whatever the reason was, he wasn’t going to tell you.

You swallowed hard, wiping at your face again, though the tears kept coming.

“I just want to know what I did wrong,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I want to know why I wasn’t enough.”

Sam’s chest tightened at your words, the guilt gnawing at him even more. You had been more than enough for Dean. You had been everything. But Dean had made his choice, and now you were left to pick up the pieces of a life that had been shattered by someone else’s decision.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Sam said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “None of this is your fault.”

But you didn’t believe him. You couldn’t. Because if it wasn’t your fault, then why did it feel like it was? Why did it feel like you could have stopped him if you had just been a little stronger, a little more… something?

You took a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself, but the tears kept falling, the pain still so fresh, so raw.

“I miss him,” you whispered, your voice cracking under the weight of the words. “I miss him so much, Sam.”

Sam closed his eyes, his heart breaking for you, for his brother, for the mess that love had left behind. He wished he could make it better. He wished he could tell you the truth, that Dean missed you too, that Dean was just as broken as you were. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

So instead, he just held you, his arms wrapped around you in a

silent promise that he would be here for you, that you wouldn’t have to go through this alone.

And in that quiet moment, as you cried against his chest, Sam made a decision.

He couldn’t tell you everything. But he could promise you this—he wouldn’t let you go through this without knowing the truth. Maybe not tonight, maybe not even tomorrow, but someday, you would know why Dean had left. And when that day came, Sam hoped you would find some kind of peace in it.

For now, though, he just held you, letting you cry, letting you feel the pain that came with loving someone who wasn’t there anymore.

And maybe, in time, the ache would fade.

Maybe.

The quiet of the house felt heavy as Sam made his way down the stairs, each step creaking slightly under his weight. He moved slowly, careful not to make any noise, not to disturb the peace that had settled upstairs. You were finally asleep, your tears having given way to exhaustion. Sam had stayed by your side until your breathing evened out, until the tension in your body softened, and the weight of everything you were feeling momentarily lifted.

But now, as he descended into the dimly lit living room, Sam felt the full weight of the conversation waiting for him. He could see Rick, your dad, sitting at the dining table, his large hands folded in front of him, his eyes distant and troubled. The overhead light cast deep shadows across his face, making him look older than Sam remembered.

Sam paused at the bottom of the stairs, taking a breath before stepping into the room.

"Sir," Sam said quietly, nodding in acknowledgment as he approached. He'd always addressed Rick that way—respectful, deferential, even though Rick had insisted more than once that Sam didn’t need to be so formal. But tonight, the word seemed to fit the mood of the house, the unspoken tension hanging between them.

Rick looked up, his eyes heavy with the kind of worry only a father could carry. He didn’t smile, didn’t acknowledge Sam with anything more than a nod. The lines on his face deepened as he exhaled, rubbing a hand over his tired features.

"Sam," Rick said, his voice gravelly and low. “She asleep?”

Sam nodded as he pulled out a chair across from Rick and sat down, his long legs stretching out underneath the table. He glanced toward the staircase, as if making sure you weren’t going to wake up and hear them talking. “Yeah, finally,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “She was pretty upset. She… She misses him.”

Rick’s lips tightened, a muscle in his jaw jumping slightly as he clenched his teeth. He didn’t say anything for a moment, his gaze fixed on the wood grain of the table as though the words he wanted to say were etched somewhere in the surface.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep doing this, Sam,” Rick finally said, his voice low but firm. “She’s my daughter. Every day, I watch her break a little more, and I can’t tell her why. I can’t help her. All I can do is sit here and lie to her face.”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, his heart heavy with the weight of Rick’s words. This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation. Rick had been struggling with the situation from the beginning—from the moment Dean had disappeared from your life without so much as an explanation. Rick knew more than you did, enough to understand why Dean had left, but that didn’t make it any easier.

And it certainly didn’t make it easier for Rick to watch his daughter suffer.

“I know,” Sam said, his voice soft but steady. “I know it’s hard, sir. But it’s the best thing for her right now. Dean—he’s… he’s doing what he thinks is right. He’s trying to protect her.”

Rick let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head as he looked up at Sam, his eyes filled with frustration. “Protect her? From what, exactly? From him? Because it sure as hell looks like he’s the one hurting her the most right now.”

Sam flinched at Rick’s words, the truth of them cutting deep. He couldn’t deny that Dean’s decision to leave had hurt you—had shattered you in ways Sam didn’t know how to fix. But he also knew Dean, knew the guilt and fear that drove every one of his brother’s actions, especially when it came to you.

“Dean’s not doing this because he wants to hurt her,” Sam said quietly, trying to keep his voice calm, measured. “He’s doing this because he thinks it’s the only way to keep her safe. You know that.”

Rick’s hands clenched into fists on the table, his knuckles turning white as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “I know what Dean thinks, Sam,” he said, his voice rough. “But that doesn’t make this any easier to swallow. That doesn’t make it easier to watch her cry herself to sleep every night, wondering why she wasn’t enough to make him stay.”

Sam felt a sharp pang of guilt twist in his chest. He’d seen the way you tried to hide your pain, the way you put on a brave face for your family, for the people who loved you. But when you were alone—or when you thought no one was looking—the cracks in your armor showed. And Sam hated it. He hated that he had to watch you suffer, knowing there was nothing he could do to fix it.

“I don’t know how much longer I can keep this from her,” Rick said, his voice quieter now, the anger giving way to something softer, something more vulnerable. “She’s my little girl, Sam. I’m supposed to protect her. And I can’t even do that.”

Sam’s heart ached for Rick, for the father who wanted nothing more than to shield his daughter from the pain that had been thrust into her life. It was the same way he felt about Dean, the same helplessness that came from watching someone you loved fall apart and knowing there was nothing you could do to stop it.

“I get it, sir,” Sam said after a long pause. “Believe me, I get it. But the truth—it’s not going to make this any easier for her. If anything, it’s going to make things worse.”

Rick looked up at Sam, his brow furrowed in confusion. “Worse? How could it possibly be worse than this?”

Sam swallowed hard, the weight of the secret he carried pressing down on him. He knew that telling you the truth about Dean—about why he had really left—would only open up more questions, more pain. Dean wasn’t just out there living a normal life, trying to move on from you. He was caught up in something dark, something dangerous. Something that Sam wasn’t even sure Dean would survive.

“If she knew why Dean left… if she knew what he’s dealing with, she’d never stop trying to find him,” Sam explained, his voice low but steady. “And that’s exactly what Dean doesn’t want. He left because he thought it was the only way to protect her. If she knew the truth, if she went looking for him, she’d be in danger. Real danger.”

Rick’s expression softened slightly, his anger giving way to concern. He was quiet for a moment, the words sinking in.

Sam leaned forward, resting his arms on the table as he tried to make Rick understand. “Dean isn’t doing this because he doesn’t love her. He’s doing it because he does love her. And he’s willing to hurt himself—and her—if it means keeping her safe.”

Rick let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping as the weight of the situation settled over him. “I just don’t know how much longer she can take this, Sam,” he said quietly. “She’s strong, but… she’s breaking. And I don’t know how to help her.”

Sam felt his chest tighten at Rick’s words. He’d seen it too, the way you were slowly unraveling, bit by bit. It was like watching someone try to keep their head above water, only to see the waves pulling them down further with every passing day.

“I know,” Sam said softly, his voice filled with empathy. “But right now, the best thing we can do is give her time. Dean’s not going to be gone forever. He’ll come back when it’s safe. He’ll come back when he can.”

Rick looked at Sam, his eyes searching for something—hope, maybe. But Sam wasn’t sure if he had any to offer. He wanted to believe that Dean would come back, that they’d all come out of this mess on the other side. But the truth was, he didn’t know. Not for certain.

All Sam knew was that his brother had made a choice, and now they all had to live with the consequences.

“I’m asking you to hold on a little longer, sir,” Sam said quietly. “I know it’s hard. But if we tell her now, if we bring her into this, it’s only going to make things worse. For her, for Dean… for all of us.”

Rick stared at Sam for a long moment, his expression conflicted. He wanted to help his daughter, to ease her pain, but he also knew that Sam was right. Bringing you into the dangerous world Dean lived in wouldn’t fix anything. It would only put you at risk.

Finally, Rick nodded, though the movement was slow, hesitant. “Alright,” he said, his voice gruff. “I’ll hold out a little longer. But Sam…” He looked up, his eyes filled with a father’s fear. “If something happens to her because of this—because of Dean—I won’t forgive him. Or you.”

Sam’s heart clenched at Rick’s words, the weight of the promise hanging heavy between them. He understood. Rick was trusting him—trusting Dean—to keep you safe, even if that meant keeping you in the dark.

“I promise,” Sam said quietly, his voice filled with conviction. “I’ll do everything I can to protect her.”

Rick didn’t respond, but the look in his eyes said enough. He would hold out, for now. But he wouldn’t wait forever.

The silence stretched between them, heavy with everything left unsaid.

After a few moments, Rick let out a tired sigh, running a hand over his face as he stood up from the table. “I’m heading to bed,” he said quietly, his voice thick with exhaustion. “You should get some rest too, Sam.”

Sam nodded, though he knew sleep wouldn’t come easily tonight. There was too much weighing on his mind—too many what-ifs, too many worries about what the future held.

“Goodnight, sir,” Sam said, watching as Rick made his way toward the stairs.

Rick paused at the base of the staircase, glancing back at Sam one last time. “Take care of her, Sam,” he said softly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She’s all I’ve got.”

And with that, Rick disappeared upstairs, leaving Sam alone in the quiet, dimly lit room.

Sam sat there for a long while, his mind racing with thoughts of you, of Dean, of the dangerous path they were all walking. He wanted to believe that everything would turn out alright—that Dean would come back, that you’d find some kind of peace.

But the truth was, Sam didn’t know what the future held. All he could do was wait. Wait for Dean to come back. Wait for the moment when the truth would finally come out.

And hope that, when that time came, it wouldn’t tear everything apart.

Cassie sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers absently twisting the hem of the blanket as she stared at the closed bedroom door. The room was quiet, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound breaking the stillness. Her husband, David, was sitting beside her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders. They had been quiet for a while, the kind of silence that often felt heavy with unspoken words.

Cassie’s mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, emotions colliding in a chaotic dance that left her feeling both drained and unsettled. She had seen you—her older sister, her guide and protector—broken in ways she had never imagined. It had always been easy to take your strength for granted, to see you as the one who was always there to pick up the pieces, to offer support, to be the anchor in the storm. But now, seeing you like this, vulnerable and hurting, had turned her world upside down.

She turned to David, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he looked at her with a mixture of concern and understanding. “I never realized how much she meant to me,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I mean, I knew she was important—she’s my sister. But I never really understood… until now.”

David nodded, his hand gently rubbing her back in a soothing motion. He had always been a calm presence, a steady anchor in her own turbulent seas. Now, he was trying to offer that same stability to her, as she grappled with the weight of her sister’s suffering.

“I see her now, breaking,” Cassie continued, her voice trembling. “And it’s like… like a part of me is breaking too. I never realized how much of myself was tied up in her strength, in her being the one who always had it together.”

David shifted slightly, his gaze tender as he looked at her. “It’s hard to see someone you love in pain,” he said softly. “Especially when they’ve always been the one who seemed unshakable. It’s like suddenly, the world’s not what you thought it was.”

Cassie nodded, tears slipping down her cheeks. “I always thought she’d be okay. I thought she was strong enough to handle anything. But now… seeing her like this, it’s like everything I thought I knew about her has been turned upside down.”

David pulled her closer, wrapping his arms around her in a comforting embrace. “It’s okay to feel this way,” he said gently. “It’s okay to be overwhelmed. It’s okay to feel like you’re breaking too.”

Cassie leaned into him, her head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat was a small comfort in the midst of her turmoil. “I just don’t know how to help her,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his shirt. “I don’t know what to do, how to fix it.”

David sighed, running his fingers through her hair in a soothing motion. “You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said. “Sometimes, just being there, just letting her know that you’re with her, is enough. You don’t have to fix everything. Sometimes, the most important thing is just showing up.”

Cassie’s grip tightened around him, the tears flowing freely now. “But I hate seeing her like this. I hate that she’s hurting, and I don’t know how to make it stop.”

David’s voice was soft but steady. “You can’t take away her pain. But you can be there for her. You can listen, you can hold her, you can offer her love and support. That’s what she needs right now. And that’s what you can give her.”

Cassie took a deep breath, trying to steady herself. “I just feel so helpless,” she said, her voice breaking. “I don’t know how to be strong for her when I’m falling apart myself.”

David cupped her face gently, tilting her chin up so she could meet his eyes. “It’s okay to feel vulnerable,” he said softly. “It’s okay to be scared and unsure. What matters is that you’re there for her, that you care. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just being present, showing her that she’s not alone—that’s what really counts.”

Cassie closed her eyes, taking in his words. The reassurance in his voice was a small balm to her aching heart. She knew he was right, but the pain of seeing you suffer was overwhelming, and she struggled to see a way forward.

“She’s always been my rock,” Cassie said quietly, her voice tinged with regret. “And now she’s the one who needs support, and I feel like I don’t know how to be the sister she needs me to be.”

David gently stroked her cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear. “You’re doing more than you realize. Just by being here, by caring, by feeling this deeply—you’re showing her that she’s loved. That’s the most important thing you can do right now.”

Cassie nodded, her tears beginning to subside as she drew strength from David’s words and his presence. She knew she couldn’t fix everything, that she couldn’t erase the pain you were feeling. But she could be there for you, could offer the love and support that you so desperately needed.

As the minutes passed, the silence in the room felt less oppressive. Cassie’s thoughts began to clear, and she focused on the steps she could take to be a better support for you. She knew it wouldn’t be easy, that there would be days of struggle and heartache. But with David’s unwavering support and love, she felt a glimmer of hope that she could find a way through it.

“I’ll be there for her,” Cassie said softly, her voice more determined now. “I’ll be the support she needs. I’ll show her that she’s not alone, that she’s still loved.”

David nodded, his smile gentle and encouraging. “That’s all she needs to know right now. And you’re more than capable of giving her that.”

Dean Winchester leaned against the hood of his old, battered car, the cool night air mixing with the distant hum of streetlights and the occasional passing vehicle. He had parked a few houses down from yours, hidden in the shadow of a large oak tree that offered just enough cover for him to remain unseen. From his vantage point, he could see your kitchen window, the soft glow of light spilling out into the darkness.

He had been here for hours, a silent observer of a life he felt he had no right to be a part of anymore. His heart ached with every glance through the window, seeing you move about the kitchen, your movements subdued, like you were carrying a weight that he could barely imagine. The sight of you—so domestic, so normal, so unbroken—made his chest tighten with an emotion he couldn’t quite name, but that gnawed at him relentlessly.

You had been cleaning up after dinner, a simple, mundane task that somehow felt monumental in the way it highlighted just how different your life was now compared to when he had been a part of it. Dean knew he shouldn’t be here. He knew that just by being in the vicinity, he was risking everything—risking your safety, your peace, your very life. But the pull to see you, to make sure you were okay, was too strong to resist.

He watched you with a painful mixture of longing and guilt as you scrubbed at a pot, your movements robotic and weary. The way your shoulders slumped, the way your hands seemed to move without purpose—it was clear that the weight of everything had taken its toll on you. He wanted to be the one to lift that weight, to take it off your shoulders, but he knew he was too dangerous, too lost in his own darkness to be of any help.

Dean’s eyes were fixed on the window when, suddenly, he saw you stop. You stood there for a moment, your back to him, and he saw the subtle tremble in your form. His heart raced, a sense of foreboding creeping up his spine. You placed the dish you were washing back into the sink with a clatter that echoed through the quiet kitchen. Dean’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you sink to your knees, the sobs that racked your body muffled but unmistakable.

He wanted to move, to go inside and hold you, to comfort you the way he once had, but he was paralyzed. The thought of being so close to you—of seeing you like this—was almost more than he could bear. He could only watch, helpless, as you curled up on the cold kitchen floor, your hands clenching at the fabric of your shirt, your face buried in your knees.

Dean’s own breath came in ragged gasps as he fought to keep his emotions in check. Tears blurred his vision, and he wiped angrily at his eyes, the frustration and pain of seeing you like this overwhelming him. His heart ached with every sound of your sobs, each one a reminder of the hurt he had caused and the lives he had irrevocably changed.

“God damn it,” Dean muttered under his breath, his voice cracking as he struggled to keep his composure. “Don’t do this. Please…”

He felt a surge of anger toward himself, toward everything that had brought him to this point. How had it come to this? How had he ended up as the specter of your happiness, only able to watch as you fell apart? He wanted to scream, to rage against the unfairness of it all, but all he could do was stand there, a silent witness to your suffering.

Through the window, he saw you push yourself into a sitting position, your head falling back against the cabinets as your cries gradually subsided into soft, ragged breaths. The sight of you so vulnerable, so broken, tore at him in ways he hadn’t thought possible. Every sob, every shudder, was a dagger to his heart, each one a reminder of how deeply he had failed you.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean whispered to himself, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t you dare.”

He paced restlessly beside the car, his hands balled into fists, the pain of being so close and yet so far from you eating away at him. His anger, his frustration, his guilt—they all swirled together in a tumultuous storm within him, threatening to drown him in their intensity. But beneath it all, there was a deep, aching love that refused to be silenced.

He could still remember the way your eyes had shone with hope and trust, the way you’d looked at him as if he were the answer to everything. And now, here he was, a ghost of that hope, a shadow of the man he used to be, unable to offer you anything but his silent grief.

The minutes stretched on, and as the night deepened, Dean’s thoughts grew darker. He hated that he was causing you this pain. He hated that his absence had left a void so deep that it had brought you to tears on your kitchen floor. His whole being was consumed by regret and sorrow, the realization that he had pushed you into this place where you felt so utterly alone.

“Damn it,” he muttered, his voice breaking as he fought to hold back his own tears. “I’m so sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He wanted to be the one to comfort you, to hold you through the pain, to promise you that everything would be alright. But he knew he couldn’t. Not like this. Not while he was still a threat, while his presence could endanger you.

He could see you slowly starting to pull yourself together, your movements slow and shaky. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, a defeated gesture that spoke volumes. It was clear that the pain wasn’t just in your heart—it was in every part of you. It was in the way you moved, the way you tried to regain your composure, the way you looked around the empty kitchen as if hoping for some sort of answer.

Dean’s heart ached with the desperate need to reach out, to somehow make things right. But he stayed where he was, his hands trembling as he fought to keep himself together. The last thing he wanted was for you to see him like this, to know just how deeply your suffering was affecting him.

The longer he watched, the more he realized that he couldn’t stay here much longer. The weight of his own emotions, the guilt of seeing you in so much pain, was becoming unbearable. He needed to leave—to put some distance between himself and the sight of you struggling, even if it meant breaking his own heart further.

As you finally pushed yourself to your feet, shakily turning off the kitchen light, Dean took one last, lingering look. He watched as you slowly made your way out of the room, your steps heavy and slow. The sight of you so subdued, so broken, was almost too much for him to bear.

“Don’t you give up on me, sweetheart,” Dean said again, his voice barely a whisper, lost in the night. “Don’t you dare.”

He turned away from the window, the sight of your pain etched into his mind. Each step away from the house felt like a weight lifting off his shoulders, but it was replaced with a heavy burden of regret and sorrow. He got into his car, his movements automatic, as he started the engine and pulled away from the curb.

As he drove down the darkened streets, the tears he had fought to keep hidden finally broke free. They streamed down his face, hot and unbidden, a stark reminder of the pain he had caused and the love he still felt. The road ahead was uncertain, a dark path that mirrored the turmoil inside him.

Dean knew he couldn’t go back—not yet. Not while his presence was a danger to you. But he also knew that he couldn’t stay away forever. There would come a time when he would have to face you again, when the truth would come out, when he would have to answer for the hurt he had caused.

But for now, he drove on, the ache in his chest a constant reminder of what he had lost and what he still hoped to regain. He drove through the night, through the darkness, hoping that somewhere in the vast expanse of the world, there was a way to make things right, a way to heal the wounds he had created.

And as the miles passed beneath the wheels of his car, Dean whispered one last plea into the night, hoping that somehow, somewhere, you could hear him.

“Don’t give up on me. Please.”

The road ahead was long, and the night was dark, but Dean drove on, carrying with him the hope that someday, somehow, things would be different. That someday, he’d be able to make things right.

Like, comment or reblog! I’d love to hear your feedback. Comment if you want to be added to the taglist.

TAGLIST:

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@katherineeekai @freefallthoughts @angzls @deans-baby-momma @syrma-sensei

@cheynovak

[darcytaylor]

I understand your pain as a fellow non-shipper in this fandom. I don't know where to go anymore myself. I fully understand why you needed to step away. I often wonder if anyone is having any fun here anymore. There are entrenched narratives that are easily debunkable yet people will chop your head off if you dare to even suggest they aren't true. You can either join the entrenched echo chambers or get out, which I find absurd. I for one have been very over it for a while and I hope they don't put you off again because a more balanced space is desperately needed. There are more of us here than you'd think, we've just been beaten back from engaging because you can't reason with some corners of this site. The brainrot is alarming.

Thank you for sharing this with me, and letting me know that there are people who may be more like myself out there! I completely understand where you’re coming from - it really does feel like navigating a minefield at times in fandom spaces, especially when things become so polarized.

I love diving into the complexities of the characters in Bridgerton, but I also enjoy following the actors’ careers and seeing the variety of roles they take on or the work and things they do outside the show.

I still believe that speculating is fun and a natural part of engaging with any fandom. It can help keep the excitement alive between seasons or during gaps in content.

It’s also human nature to be curious about what’s going on behind the scenes with the actors or within their social circles. There’s nothing wrong with wondering what Nicola, Luke, or any of the Bridgerton cast are up to in their personal lives. It becomes tricky, though, when speculation turns into certainty or when people lock themselves into one interpretation of events.

I try to approach it by coming up with multiple possibilities instead of latching onto one theory and running with it. I believe that way, it stays playful and open-ended without diving into a rabbit hole of "this must be true." I also think it can be a healthier way of engaging because you’re acknowledging the unknowns while still allowing space for curiosity.

Nicola could be dating Jake, Luke (N or T), Eamon or the bartender that works down the street from her house. The options are endless! When you come to a conclusion with the little facts that we actually know, it can hinder the balance between curiosity and respect for the actors and their close circles.

I think it’s fun to explore all the possibilities without getting stuck on just one explanation. That way, I can stay open to new information and avoid getting swept up in the frenzy of needing certainty.

I think it should be about enjoying the journey rather than rushing to a definitive answer. Staying open to possibilities keeps the fandom fun while ensuring we respect the boundaries of the actors and their personal lives.

Bring on the possibilities!

[kateweathermachine2]

My thoughts on the Wisdom Saga

Legendary

TELEMACHUS MY BOY!!!

Honestly most of the stuff I have to say about him deals with the next two songs instead of this one…

Okay, but the more I listen to Antonius the more his voice is just ✨✨✨? Like Calypso’s voice being gorgeous was on SIGHT (on… hear? Heard? Audio?), but Antonius keeps getting better the more I listen to him. Don’t get me wrong he’s a bad dude, but his voice acting? Beautiful

I love the setup in this song, you don’t even notice because it’s so catchy

ARGUS CRUSHED MY HEART IN THE ANIMATIC (like I knew he would) poor dog boi… if Jorge doesn’t have Odysseus say hello to him in a song I will be heartbroken.

Little Wolf

This song… the appearance of Athena in this song brought my prospective ranking of it from likely low to battling it out with Love in Paradise for top spot (I’m STILL not sure which one I like more).

When Athena first appeared in the livestream I (mentally) SCREAMED- MY FAV IS BACK SHE’S BACK AND I LOVE HER (very platonically)

I love the little interlude with her and Telemachus- speaking of which-

I’ve seen some people mention how Telemachus seems much younger than 20/21. Something about the portrayal of Telemachus as this naïve inexperienced child? I’m not sure. But I have my own thoughts to share on this, because as someone who’s close to that young adult age, I think it’s actually pretty accurate for Telemachus’s character. He’s lived in the palace all his life, he’s longing to adventure in the world beyond, but he doesn’t know how to fight… I mean, I don’t specifically relate to Telemachus but I can see aspects of this in my own life. I’ve taken my first baby steps into the big adult world, and it’s intimidating and scary, and I don’t know how anything works, but I’m trying anyways. Point being, I don’t understand how people think that Telemachus has to be younger just because he doesn’t have certain life experiences or knowledge yet. I think it’s a very good portrayal of a young adult being unsure of his coming into the world but excited for it anyways.

Anyways back to ATHENA MY GIRL

I love that we get an in-musical explanation of Quick Thought!! I think it’s really important for a musical to be self-contained with its important lore/information and Jorge does such a great job with that.

Athena’s entire speech about the suitors and bullies and inspiring Telemachus and reframing his “Little Wolf” title CHUCKED THIS SONG SO HIGH IN MY BOOK I need to find a character of mine to associate this part to

The little “ooohhhh, maybe I pushed him a bit to hard” is hilarious

Interesting thing we’re doing with transitions into the next songs with this saga. I do agree with some of the people who said it sounds kind of off in this song; I think it might’ve flowed better if it introduced the next one, but honestly, I’m entirely willing to ignore that because this song is *so* good

We’ll be Fine

I have one glaring complaint about this song…. WHY ISNT IT LONGER?!?! I NEED MORE OF THIS

I can honestly see this becoming a comfort song for me, it holds such great messages to remember

“Cause I got in a fight, and I didn’t die!” The bar is on the FLOOR with Telemachus

The voice actors are rocking their respective high notes! Jorge pushed them and they owned it!!

Speaking of those good encouraging messages- I absolutely adore Telemachus’s chorus. Every time I listen to it, my brain auto-fills the lyrics ahead, and I hear, “maybe it’s all gonna be okay,” but then Telemachus actually sings the verse and it’s “maybe it’s all gonna turn out great!” And that’s just… such a good thing to think about. Yeah, it’s gonna be okay in the end, but what if it was better than okay? What if it turned out to be absolutely amazing?? That’s… such a positive way to view things and I need it more in my life. Of course it could get toxic but for me, it’s a great reminder of how good things can become

Love in Paradise

I read a post that mentioned how the happiest song in the Thunder Saga is called Suffering, and the saddest song in the Wisdom Saga is called Love in Paradise, and I hate how accurate that is T^T

THE TIME DIVE MONTAGE WAS SO GOOOD- such a fun mini mash-up of the rest of the songs! I wish I had more to say about it because I want to keep gushing over it but I’m just gonna end up repeating myself saying it’s so good

The little replay of the “Captain?” “I have to see her” ;-;

WANGUI’S VOCALS— I CAN’T— THEY’RE SO GORGEOUS *unintelligible squealing*

“She’s my wife”

“…”

“…”

“…”

“…”

��…”

“Anyways-“

Her voice is so pretty help I don’t approve of her actions but her VOICE HER VOICE

Can I also just say the animatic/visuals for this section were also gorgeous, such a great compliment to the audio

The way it goes from all sweet and bouncy to “oh ****” and right back to sweet was so good

“Last I checked goddesses can’t die!!” *cue the Wisdom Saga stream crash of 2024*

The cliff scene… oh my goodness it’s so *good* it’s all so *good* Jorge how are you so good at writing

He pays such close attention to characters and motifs and lines too- you can hear how Calypso triggers Odysseus’s flashback.

NOT TO MENTION- when Odysseus yells his line “All I hear are SCREAMS”, it’s in response to Calypso’s line “I’ll stay inside your heart”- which is Odysseus’s mom’s lyric from the underworld!! I literally just noticed the connection between the line and his reaction and I haven’t seen anyone else mention it before so-

And Athena’s little “he needs my help”- aaaaaa we all feel the pain

God Games

Oh *boy howdy* this one is a doozy

The intro is great, I adore Zeus’s voice- this cast is just FULL of talented voice actors man

“… Hera!…. Or me” …. A-wha-huh? I’m sorry didn’t you used to be “and”???

I was intrigued what Apollo’s grievance would be based on the whole “who’s cows” debacle- the sirens kinda threw me off guard xD

His voice is ✨✨✨ though, I love listening to him

JORGE’S DAD HEPHAESTUS!!!!! Aghhh his voice was so good for the part! And I loved the commentary on trust too

Aphrodite’s and Ares’s parts are still amazing even after all this time- I LOVE the details of Ares’s musical motif! He has the same melody as Athena, but played on this raw-sounding violin/cello? And he *also* has quick thought- but it still all feels different from Athena’s too! Because they’re both gods of war but with different domains and attributes AAAA so good!

And Athena’s lyrics in response- I love the re-do and the little extra quirks in it, like the extra growl on “ARES!!!” And the little riff(?) on “his son’s my FRIIIIEND”

Hera’s part was amazing. 100/10. Her voice was a lot… smoother than I was expecting honestly. It took a bit of getting used to but now I love it. And I am HERE for the dance battle

“Never once has he cheated on his wife”

“Release him.”

10/10 ✨✨✨

I was… really excited for an Athena/Zeus debate in this song when listening to all the snippets. I couldn’t wait to see how Athena would try and persuade Zeus, what arguments he would use specifically, how it would all go down… instead I got uh-

“I played your game and won! Release him.”

Oh so, no Zeus round? Ohh this is why it got changed to “or” isn’t it-

“You DARE to defy me?”

Huh-

“To make me feel shame?”

What’s happeni-

“No one beats me, NO ONE WINS MY GAME!!”

Oh boy howdy-

“THUNDER BRING HER THROUGH THE WRINGER, SHOW HER I’M THE JUDGEMENT CALL, THE ONE WHO MAKES HER KINGDOM FAAAAALL—“

I’M SORRY THIS WENT FROM 10 TO 100 SO FAST WHAT IS HAPPENING?!—

Athena in the flashback scene- holding baby Telemachus- the music- my HEART

And the end instrumental is so triumphant aaaaaa

“Let him gooooo! Please-“ JORGE WHEN I GET YOU JORGE—

Uh, so

My thoughts on God Games right after it came out were

Mixed

At first I was so absolutely frazzled from the livestream I could barely put thoughts together outside of incoherent screaming

But then I read a few tumblr posts about how some others were disappointed in how God Games ended and Zeus’s character- and I found myself agreeing :/

I do have a propensity for latching onto different opinions because I think they’re the “expected” one for me to have- and I totally think a bit of that was going on here- so I took some time off of tumblr/limiting my scrolling (which needed to be stopped anyways-) to really sort out how I felt on this

And I think I feel a bit stilted by God Games from its ending. The ending was… underwhelming? Which sounds INSANE considering the end of the stream but it’s underwhelming less because of actual shock factor and more because of what specifically happens versus my expectations.

Zeus just kind of… blasts Athena in the face??? Without provocation?? Athena DID win his game, she passed the terms he set out, she did all of that… and he shocks her anyways. It just. Doesn’t really sit right with me.

But I love Epic, and want to enjoy every song I come across, and I REALLY didn’t want this view of the ending of God Games to taint the rest of the song or the rest of the musical. So in my next big post, I’m going to do a mini “rewrite”/reworking of God Games that I’ve been toying around with in my mind for a little while now!!

I’ll explain more about why and what and the details in that post but for now, just know that it’s been a helpful exercise in enjoying God Games as it is too, and I’ll get to posting that the next time school isn’t absolutely crushing me with long homework assignments

Anyways, those are my kinda-in-depth thoughts about the Wisdom Saga!! I’ve been so excited to write this out and I’m happy to be posting it finally

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

I have a request for HC's for Pittrap. Here's the scenario, he's come out of the pit and starts following a certain little girl, lets say she's like 5-6 years old. Girl has no idea the yellow bunny rabbit isn't supposed to be there, thinks it's her father who passed away before the girl was born, comes home to their house which isn't too far from Jeff's since the preschool let her walk home. Later (Reader) comes home who is a single mom and a schoolteacher for high school or something. She sees the rabbit and is actually seeing the rabbit, flips out, child insists it's her dad, mom knows he passed away. So teacher mom (reader) reacting to this scenario, she needs someone to keep an eye on her little girl, but at the same time like Oh crap giant bunny man appears what do I do and my child insists that this is her dad? Maybe they fall in love since he's actually a good rabbit dude and treats her(reader) well too. Also happy birthday once again!

Pittrap is a favorite to write for :) I kept the basics of the idea here- reader is a parent, reader has a kid, reader’s kid brings back the rabbit.

—

🐰|You’ve gotten used to, every once in a while, your kid bringing in an animal. Usually something small—like a bird.|🎾🕳

🐰|And today, it seems that your daughter brought something else inside, which normally wouldn’t be a problem...|🎾🕳

🐰|If not for the fact that what your daughter brought in was a tall, yellow rabbit animatronic, chilling in your living room.|🎾🕳

—

“Alright, what’s-“ As you lifted your head up, the remaining words immediately became trapped within your throat.

There, in your living room, was your daughter. Except, she wasn’t alone... that was easy to see.

She was sitting on the lap of a large, fuzzy thing—it resembled a rabbit, and it’s fur was yellow. It seemed somewhat metallic.

The main TV was on, and it seemed like your daughter had been in the middle of watching her favorite show with the rabbit thing.

Except, when you entered, her attention was pulled away towards you. So was the rabbit’s.

While your daughter cheerfully called you over, the rabbit waved.

—

🐰|The situation was already strange enough, and you certainly weren’t calm—you didn’t know why she was.|🎾🕳

🐰|Then, your kid just goes and calls the rabbit “dad”, and makes you even more confused—especially with her little explanation.|🎾🕳

🐰|One of the first things you do is take her, head to a neighbor, and bring them back—all while the rabbit watches this occur in confusion.|🎾🕳

🐰|You’re hoping that your neighbor could do... something, but to your surprise, they see no rabbit creature at all.|🎾🕳

—

When you’d finished with the chore, you’d returned to the living room, expecting to still see her sitting in there.

...Except, she wasn’t. She was nowhere in sight. Neither was the rabbit. And you could feel fear beginning to bubble up.

A distant noise caught your attention, and you whirled your head around. You couldn’t tell what it exactly was—it was far too muffled.

Yet, you had a good idea on where the source was coming from. Her room.

It didn’t take you very long to reach the bedroom, and you swung the door open. The light was off.

Stepping inside, the strange noise was louder. It almost sounded like... humming? Humming, that of which belonged to an old lullaby.

It came off as rather distorted, though. In the darkness, you stared ahead. The rabbit was kneeling beside your daughter’s bed.

It... was singing to her? And by the looks of it, by the fact that she seemed to be asleep, it was working?

“What?!” You threw your arms up, unsure of what to think about the situation.

The rabbit’s head turned, and the humming ceased. Facing you, he lifted a finger, and pressed it against his mouth.

—

🐰|In a matter of a few hours of his arrival, Pittrap had made your daughter a few snacks, made her brush her teeth, and put her to bed.|🎾🕳

🐰|You didn’t have “Animatronic rabbit appears in my home and starts acting fatherly to my daughter” on any bingo card.|🎾🕳

🐰|You’re still nervous and confused about this whole thing... but at least Pittrap is friendly. You couldn’t fight an animatronic.|🎾🕳

🐰|As the time goes by, Pittrap continues to help you out with her—which you do appreciate.|🎾🕳

🐰|At some point, you wake up to find your daughter sent off to whatever she had for the day, the house cleaned, and breakfast in bed.|🎾🕳

🐰|You still wonder where he came from, but Pittrap hasn’t revealed anything, and your daughter’s explanation on the initial day was vague.|🎾🕳

🐰|The longer Pittrap is around, the quicker you begin to realize that you may have some new developing feelings about the animatronic.|🎾🕳

🐰|...You’ll just see where this all heads.|🎾🕳

[winterhawkbigbang]

Winterhawk Big Bang 2024 Rec List

1. Not just a Mask 2. Escaping the Mind of the Winter Soldier (And Setting Yourself Free) 3. Surprise Attraction 4. Spring Dawning 5. love song (for a girl) 6. Soul Mambo Jumbo 7. Every Breath You Take (Scars Edition) Summaries and links to all fanworks below!

1. Not just a Mask by 42donotpanic (Teen And Up Audiences, 28k words)

Summary: When Clint meets yet another person from an online dating site he didn't expect him to change his life as much as Bucky did. Not that he's complaining. The man is just too cute...

* two art pieces by ivvic: [link]

* a lookbook (illustrated guide) with a playlist by daisytarget: [link]

* a podfic by 42donotpanic: [link]

2. Escaping the Mind of the Winter Soldier (And Setting Yourself Free) by Iam_giraffe1123 (Explicit, 28k words)

Summary: When an easy job turns south and Clint is captured and thrown into a cell with a man he didn't think he would ever see. Trying to survive with the conditions they are in. With many years later, another mission turns south and Clint has to guide his way out of his captures clutches and save the one person he always wanted to protect.

* a podfic by 42donotpanic: [link]

* an art piece by kissitbetter: [link]

* an art piece by LaguNerd: [link]

3. Surprise Attraction by ivvic (Mature, 27k words)

Summary: Clint ends up with a baby while working at the circus and is not coping well with single parenthood. Bucky steps in and offers them a place to stay.

* an art piece by c_Art: [link]

* two art pieces by OriginalCeenote: [link #1] [link #2]

* a moodboard by endlesstwanted: [link]

4. Spring Dawning by ArtaxLivs (Explicit, 16k words)

Summary: “Two lovers separated by the light, both an animal and a man in darkness,” Clint easily recited, having heard it hundreds of times over the years, “A woman with no past, running in a life that isn’t her own. A god in exile, unable to trust his own strength. A genius whose mind is lost to a dragon. A leader frozen in time in a lake above the clouds. And the bard with no heart cursed to speak the truth but never know it.” OR - Ladyhawke? I think you meant Winterhawk.

* two art pieces by ivvic: [link]

* an art piece by ruinscollector: [link]

* a lookbook (illustrated guide) by daisytarget: [link]

5. love song (for a girl) by daisytarget (Explicit, 39k words)

Summary: Jamie Barnes is a competent sort of woman. She does her therapy, she cooks her meals, she stabs her own enemies. She doesn't need much in the world, because her independence is her greatest treasure. And then she meets Cat Barton, all sweet smiles and butch build and slow drawl and helpful instincts, and all that kind of goes out the window, because while she doesn't need, she certainly wants. She really wants. Cat Barton has no idea what's coming to her, stuck on the prettiest lady she's ever seen who makes her feel - well, not needed, because she'd surely fuck that up. But wanted. Yeah. It makes her, against her life's advice otherwise, really want Jamie Barnes back.

* two anonymous art pieces: [link]

* an art piece by amoredition: [link]

* an art piece by kissitbetter: [link]

6. Soul Mambo Jumbo by ElloPoppet (Teen And Up Audiences, 16k words)

Summary: “Well, to keep it simple, Clint – you know Clint, Barton? – well, I might have accidentally gotten his soul stuck in an Astral Dimension. I could use some help finding him and, ideally, bringing him back.” If Bucky hadn’t lived the lives he’d lived (so many lives in his hundred-plus years), he might have dropped the box of tea in his hands, or let the vortex of confusionconcernshockfearexhaustion that Bruce’s explanation stirred within him show on his face. But he’d had practice at this, at living through moments like these. He placed the box gently on the counter and inhaled deep enough to hurt. “Okay,” he said on the exhale. “And how do we do that?” - Or, Bucky's soul does find Clint's in the Astral Dimension, but the 'bringing him back' part of the mission takes time.

* an art piece by ivvic: [link]

* an art piece by frenchfriedgiraffe: [link]

7. Every Breath You Take (Scars Edition) by Reremouse (Mature, 18k words)

Summary: Scars tell a story about where we’ve been and what we’ve experienced. Soulmates only meet after that life experience has been lived. That doesn’t necessarily mean they’re ready for it. Shortly after the takedown of Project Insight, Steve turns up at the tower with a quieter Bucky looking for a place to recover himself. It’s a solid plan, at least, until Clint walks right into Bucky, triggers their soul bond, and pretty much tosses Steve’s entire Bucky recovery plan out the window. Bucky is probably not ready to further complicate his life with a soulmate, so Clint does the only decent thing and retreats to his apartment in Bed Stuy. Maybe he should have consulted with Bucky first. A story about soulmates, friends in a tower, enemies in tracksuits, Steve looking out for Bucky, Tony looking out for everyone, the Winter Soldier on his own mission, and Clint.

* two art pieces by Rufferto (embedded in the fic)

* an art piece by Wyxan (embedded in the fic)

* an art piece by kissitbetter (embedded in the fic)

[pharawee]

A few notes on Pat and Chot's conversation:

🔹Ke (เกย์) is a neutral expression that is the phonetic adaptation of the English word gay.

🔹Tut (ตุ๊ด) is a vulgar and pejorative expression used to refer to a very effeminate homosexual man and can have multiple translations, as sissy, queen, [or in this case: tootsie] etc. 

🔹Je (เจ๊) is a Thai honorific from 姐 for “elder sister”. Chot uses it to refer to himself. Pat later uses it to address Chot.

🔹krap/kha (ครับ / ค่ะ) are gender-oriented particles. Chot uses the traditionally female particle for himself.

🌈Sources: LGTBIQ+ Enciclopaedia, Thaipod101