#sometimes i really do ask myself what is going on in that woman's head

[atrwriting]

selfish - frank castle x reader

hey y'all back in action with another porn no plot one shot

all i'm saying is,,, they knew who their target audience was with this (or are we just all mentally ill?)

summary: frank shows you what it means to be a real, selfish man.

informal warnings: frank is the selfish man in this, but I was the selfish woman writing this. couldn't get this out of my head as I started season two of the punisher, and frankly (haha get it -- sorry) after this scene you wouldn't be able to either

as always, the actual warnings: vulnerable frank, #sadboihrs for both the reader and frank, smut, porn no plot, choking, dirty talk, and ROUGH frank

anyway... selfish:

“what’s your type?”

the million dollar question. the one that you had been troubling yourself over for years.

“my type?” you repeated, eyeing the man who asked you. “or my pattern?”

he tilted his head in curiosity. “both.”

you chuckled. “my pattern… well, they’re usually useless. man babies.”

it was his turn to chuckle. “you like taking care of them, yeah?”

you shrugged. “i love taking care of people, but not men that de-age into babies as time goes on. did you know a guy i dated asked me how to boil water once?”

“you’re joking,” he took a swig of his beer, eyeing you. “no way that’s true. made that up.”

“i wish,” you laughed, rubbing a hand over your face. “i’m also not making it up that i stayed with him two years after that.”

“sounds like your fault.”

you nodded. “the pattern made me realize what my real type is.”

“what?”

“it’s corny.”

“say it.”

a smirk attempted to appear on your lips, but you pushed it back down. “i don’t like selfless men.”

he let out a laugh in disbelief at that. “you and every other chick.”

you chuckled too. “i heard this an analogy once… if you’re falling over a cliff, would you want your person to save you? or someone else about to fall on another side of the cliff?”

he stopped talking then, listening intently.

you kept going. “obviously, i’d want the other person saved… but in my head, when i’m all alone and there’s no one that has to be saved… sometimes it’s nice to think that someone would be so selfish that they would save me over doing what’s right.”

“you could live with that though?” he asked, narrowing his eyes, a bit of judgement lacing his words.

you shrugged. “never been the person that was saved, so i’m really not sure. it’s not that i want to be saved or anything — that’s super fucking corny. but man, a fucking masculine man, putting you over other things? deciding that in that moment, you’re what matters to him? i spend all my days being selfless, putting myself in danger so other people are saved… and i’m tired.” you took a swig of your drink. “i’m really fucking tired.”

“why don’t you save yourself, then?”

“for the same reason you’re here,” you sighed. “when have we ever been selfish, frank?”

he laughed at that, but almost scoffed. “i don’t do anything i do for anyone but me.”

you swallowed then, clenching your jaw. “so many people have wronged you… but you’ve only done what you’ve done because of how people have wronged those you loved. hate to break it to you… but you’re as selfless as anyone could be.”

he folded his lips underneath his teeth and stared aimlessly off into the distance. there were bags under his dark eyes, and no amount of sleep or beer would ever take them away. the man would never know peace, and your heart broke at that. however, it was nice to know someone was going down the rabbit hole with you.

“i don’t think i’m selfless,” he finally spoke after a bit.

you raised an eyebrow at him, calling his bluff.

“i did the things i did because my family was what was most important to me,” he admitted. “that’s selfish.”

you swished his words around in your mouth a little, and decided he was right. the spin on your words made you nod, agreeing with him. “i see your point.”

“so, what?” he asked. “you want a man that would choose you over innocent people?”

you huffed, standing. “i know you know that i never said that. i’m saying that in the back of my mind, it would be nice, just once, for a selfish man to decide that i’m all he wanted. it would be nice to know that i don’t always have to carry the weight on only my shoulders.”

he didn’t say anything then, staying planted on his seat on the floor. he twisted the bottle in his hands and listened to you.

“if i’m being honest with myself…” you began, swallowing your heavy statement. “i would prefer if they saved the innocents, but only so i could die, as i probably would falling in that situation, with a clear conscience. all i’m saying is… it’s a heavy fucking burden always doing things so i don’t feel guilty.”

you walked away then, not muttering a goodbye. frank didn’t say anything either. you heard him raise the bottle to his lips once more before you shut your bedroom door behind you.

it would be an hour or so before you heard a gentle knock on your door. there was no yelling or screaming outside, so you were grateful to hear there was no imminent danger present. in your tiny pajamas, you answered the door to find none other than frank. he was leaning against a wall in the hallway that led to your door, only a couple feet from you.

he didn’t say anything when you came face to face with him. he just stared at you, placing all of his focus on your confused face. it would be a few moments of silence before he finally stepped closer to you, and placed a calloused hand on your face.

you froze. frank castle never touched you, especially in that way.

“wanna know my type?”

you stared at him and swallowed thickly. your lips parted to whisper, “sure.”

“an escape,” he whispered back. “i know what you meant by always having the dark cloud of duty hanging above your head, ready to kill any moment of peace you happen to get your damned hands on. i’ve done everything i’ve ever done for the people i loved, and i know the only way for me to experience any fuckin’ joy is with another person.”

his dark eyes held your gaze, and you soon grew lost in them and his words. you swiped your tongue across your lips and stepped closer. you could feel frank’s breath on your chin, but you couldn’t breathe. his scent, his stare, and his fucking words were more intoxicating than any alcohol you had before.

“you want an escape, frank?” you softly asked, eyes darting to his lips.

“i do,” he stated, before he lowered his head and kissed you.

his free hand immediately came up to the other side od your face and pressed against your cheek. there, he held you in the palms of his hands as you rested your hands on his thick, muscled chest. his lips were dry and cracked, but you didn’t care. the fire that brewed from his affection was enough to fill any of the cold, dark, and lonely places inside of you and you greedily drank from anything he offered.

“you want someone to want you, darlin’?” he asked in between kisses.

you hummed in agreement, not wanting to break apart your kiss for anything — even words.

“can’t get you out of my head, sweetheart,” he spoke, dipping his tongue into your mouth. “need to feel those long legs around me.”

you whimpered at his words, letting his tongue dance with yours. you could taste the heineken on his tongue and savored every bit. “please, frank… i need to feel you so badly.”

“i’ve got you, darlin’.” he picked you up by the backs of your thighs and you wrapped your legs around him. the pads of frank’s finger tips dug into your flesh and a warmth spread throughout you. “those fuckin’ legs.”

you would’ve giggled, but you were too consumed with the very touch of frank to even care. you pulled at his shirt and threw it over his head, sad to break the kiss for even a second. you immediately went to his neck and began to nip at the thick skin, causing a growl to rumble in the deepest parts of his rib cage.

“y’drive me fuckin’ crazy,” he grunted. “sweetest fuckin’ kisses.”

“oh, frank…” you moaned against his neck before he threw you onto the bed. you turned over onto your back to face him. he locked eyes with you as he stood over you, muscles naturally flexed as he undid his belt. your mouth watered at the sight of the fucking man before you, taking off his belt for only you. the way his shoulders, pectorals, and arms worked in the dim light of your room… that man would be the death of you. you hissed, “you’re such a tease.”

he smirked at that, throwing the belt somewhere in the distance. “think you’ve just never been with a real man before,” he replied, before engulfing you into another kiss.

frank’s hand dipped into your shorts and immediately went for your slit. your body fucking sang at finally being touched the way you needed to be as you arched your back into frank, his chest pressed against yours. when frank began to run rough circles around your clit, nothing could hold back your moans or him swallowing them whole.

“only took off my belt, and this is how wet you get?” he asked, biting down on your neck. his long, thick middle finger dipped inside of you as his thumb worked at your clit. he tapped against your upper wall and you keened into his touch, whimpering his name. “now i know it’s the men before me. barely doing a fuckin’ thing and i’ve got you like this.”

you nodded pathetically, just wanting him to continue. “it feels so good,” you gasped, bucking your hips into his hand. “please, please — don’t stop, frank.”

he leaned over and pressed his chest against yours before his lips found your neck once more. his kisses were wet and sloppy, and there was nothing better than feeling the weight of a strong man above you working at your needy pussy. his rough movements against your sensitive skin were sending you into a frenzy as if nothing mattered in the world besides frank — your world started and ended there. your body felt hot — steaming from everything this man was doing for you with barely any effort. your whimpers and gasps fueled frank’s movements as if he couldn’t get enough of them.

“such a good girl f’me,” he said before he bit down on your neck and kissed the spot. “y’get so worked up, i want to see what it’s like when you fall apart.”

“i’m so close, frank…” your voice was hoarse and full of lust, and you were about to break any moment.

“that’s it, baby, yeah,” he spoke, slipping a second finger inside of you. “cum all over these fingers baby. let me taste you after.”

“fuck, fuck, fuck —!”

your world came crashing down onto you. your strength was no match for frank’s, but with the way your back arched and body curled into him, your chests both rose off the bed. he wrapped a strong arm underneath the curve of your back as you fucking sobbed his name, holding you to him and supporting your weight.

“that’s it, darlin’,” he grunted against your ear. “yeah — that’s it. keep cumming for me, fuck…”

your hands grabbed at his thick biceps and you grew lost in his movements against the most sensitive parts of you that never ceased. your hips were rolling in circles with his fingers and your vision went hazy.

“so beautiful like this f’me,” he groaned. “might be mean and not let you stop.”

“fuck, frank,” you cried, whimpering for him. your body fell limp against his arm, and he lowered your bodies back down to the bed. during your comedown, frank kissed at your neck as his free hand ran up and down your body. his other hand continued to rub against your pussy and it was driving you fucking crazy. “let me ride you — please.”

your voice was full of desperation, and frank smirked down at you. he slipped his fingers out of you and rolled off of you onto the bed. you tugged his pants down to his thighs, not wanting to waste any time. you were so greedy, but he didn’t care. he smirked as he watched you pull down your tiny shorts. you straddled him, pressing his chest to yours, as you sank down onto his thick cock.

“my fucking god —“ you gasped, your pussy stretching around him.

frank immediately grabbed your throat and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight. he placed the tips of his fingers in his mouth, and tasted your juices that remained on his skin. there you were, impaled on his cock, hovering over him as you watched the most sensual thing you had ever seen him do. his dark eyes were locked on yours, but your lips parted as you watched him taste you. only a smirk remained on his lips.

“sweetest fuckin’ pussy i’ve ever tasted,” he spoke. “now show me how she rides me.”

he roughly pushed you upwards so you stood up straight. the angle made a whimper leave your lips, as he was now fully inside of you and the deepest anyone has ever been. you planted a limp hand on his stomach, and began to roll your hips against his.

his calloused hands found your hips as he threw his head back against the bed. the tendons in his neck were on full display as he stretched his head back as far as he could. the pleasure he felt was spreading all throughout his body, and he couldn’t help but go taut at the feeling. you watched his mouth fall agape and his eyes close as a moan pushed passed his lips.

the pads of his fingers dug into your hips and pushed you forward and back. even his fingers were strong and had control over you, and you couldn’t help but willingly give everything over to him. your whines filled the room, getting lost in your own pleasure with him. there was nothing like the sight of being thrown into vulnerable pleasure with the man under you, succumbing to your touch.

“fuckin’ god —“ he moaned, raising his head back up to keep his eyes locked on where your bodies connected. “never felt so fuckin’ good.”

his hoarse voice caused you to move faster as you ground your hips against his. his hands were rough and desperate as they pulled you up, down, back and forth — until you didn’t know which way was anything. all you knew were the directions of frank’s hands, and you followed in suit as he dragged you down another road of ecstasy.

“greedy fuckin’ pussy,” he groaned. “never enough for her, huh? needs more, even after what i did?”

“yes, yes,” you whimpered pathetically. “your cock feels so good, frank. so fucking good.”

“yeah, darlin’, that’s it,” he grunted, brown scrunching together. “such a good fuckin’ girl f’me.”

“fuck, frank — don’t say that,” you cried loudly, biting your lip. “feels too good when you say that — i can’t cum yet.”

he immediately reached for your neck and pulled you down to him. you gasped at his rough touch, but your hips never stopped. he bent his knees so your ass could bounce off of them, giving you more leverage. his cock curled deeper into you, hitting your cervix.

“oh my — god —“ you sobbed so close to his lips.

“nah, baby, that’s not how this works — you’re gonna take everything fuckin’ i give you,” he grunted. “i know y’want to be a good girl f’me, yeah?”

“yeah, yeah, yes —“ you were incoherent at this point, ready to tell frank anything he wanted to hear as he bucked his hips into yours. “frank, i’m so close — how —“

“love a needy pussy like this,” he spoke, pulling you closer by the throat for a kiss. “you gonna be good to me? you gonna cum around my cock?”

“fuck, yes —“ you sobbed. “i want you to cum with me, baby, fill me up.”

that set him off. he rolled both of you over before you even knew what was happening. he had you pressed against the bed, hand still around your throat. you grabbed at his arm, loving having the feeling of his strong muscles hold you down. you wrapped your legs around his back as he threw his hips into you. over, and over, he drove himself inside you.

“dirty fuckin’ girl,” he growled, biting down on the skin of where your neck and shoulder met.

that was it. that was how you crumbled a second time for frank that evening.

you fucking wailed his name.

you grabbed at every part of him you could, struggling to hold on for dear life. your body shook with convulsions as your pussy tightened around him, locking his cock in place. nothing could stop his strong hips as they continued to rut into you — riding out your second orgasm of that evening.

you fell back against the bed, fucked out and gasping for air pathetically. frank pressed several kisses to your neck before he stood up on his knees, leaving your weak body below him. you pushed yourself to your elbows with whatever strength you could muster. frank grabbed you by the hips and you watched him slam his hips into yours.

you watched his forehead scrunch as his mouth fell agape. his chin was almost tucked to his neck as his eyes never left where his cock fucked into you.

“use me just like that, baby,” you cried. “i want your cum inside me.”

his strong, trim body went taut as his orgasm hit him, and you watched hungrily as the man before you fell vulnerable to the only pleasure he could allow himself these days. you watched as his conscious mind slipped further and further into the sensation until every ounce of stress and exhaustion left his face. you couldn’t help but bite your lip in pride and satisfaction — knowing that you will never see a more beautiful sight like frank castle using your body to get off.

you fucking loved selfish men.

----

DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN NOW EVERYONE GO WATCH THIS SCENE -L xox

[talesof-old]

breaking | j.p.

pairing(s): james potter x gn!reader

warning(s): angst, breakups, leaving long term relationships, implied unfaithfulness (james doesn’t actually cheat), other woman lily evans, reader deserves better, idk this isn’t proofread or edited, they could never make me hate you lily

word count: 1.2k

a/n: sorry this took me so long, i’ve been teaching myself to crochet and i’m also trying to leave my current job

masterlist

james potter + relationship breakup + no happy ending

It used to be easy, saying James Potter was the best boyfriend you’d ever had.

He’d gone out of his way to shower you in affection and prove himself a capable partner. He’d remembered every important date, what your favorite things were, and why you hated the things you hated. James had been perfect.

You leaned back in your chair. Pieces of parchment littered the desktop, ink staining the expensive wood. You’d given up on caring. A glance at the clock on the wall gave you the time.

22:15.

You huffed. Date night, James had said, like that would fix whatever this was.

This, really, was a wedge driven in unknowingly by one Miss Lily Evans. You couldn’t blame her, really. If you’d asked, she would back away from her friendship with James and be perfectly content. That’s what made it so hard to hate her. She liked you, and would do anything to maintain your friendship.

Instead, like a fool, you’d believed James when he said he’d be home early to have dinner with you. After an hour had passed you’d changed out of your nice clothes and into a pair of pajamas, choosing to work to pass the time. About twenty minutes later, you heard the front door open.

In shuffled a weary James, glasses askew and hair messy. Your heart clenched. Here stood the boy (now man) you’d given your heart to years ago. Here he was, breaking it.

“Hey.” Your voice filled the dimly light room, echoing in the bare corners like some evil spirit.

He looked up at you, eyes blinking owlishly as he tugged off his shoes. It took just a second for the image of you to register. His lips twisted into a guilty grimace, though you weren’t sure he was genuinely regretful.

As he approached, you were hit with a wave of floral and ink perfume. You sighed. Lily’s perfume, which she’d found sometime during your time at Hogwarts and stuck to, was far from unfamiliar. It suited her beautifully, though currently it clung to your skin like aa unwanted disease.

“I’m sorry, we got caught up at the pub.” You nodded. The boys night Sirius had proposed. To forget everything going on for one night. Perhaps you should’ve told James just to stay at your friends’ flat tonight instead.

“We had plans.” Your voice wavered, the telltale sign of tears burning your throat. James nodded solemnly. He made to reach for you, but seemed to second guess himself as you shied away.

“I’m sorry, honey, but Pads wanted to stay-“

“Okay.” The finality in your tone had him pausing, brow furrowed. You moved then, gathering up your papers as tears pricked at your eyes. The rational part of you knew that you needed to speak up about your feelings in order to make a change, but you also didn’t feel like you should have to. James made plans with you, his partner; surely that was just as important?

“I’m going to bed.”

Defeat swirled in your gut. Tomorrow, you’d call Mary. If she couldn’t give you advice, she’d at least help you pack up your things.

“Honey, please.” Something desperate filled his tone. You clicked your tongue to distract yourself from the heaviness in your chest. James stepped forward.

“I just lost track of time, promise. I’ll make it up to you.” You shook your head. This was the make up. This was the second chance. Not a single bone in your body wanted to give him a third. It wasn’t fair to expect you to continue to shatter your heart just for him. You cared more about yourself than that to let it continue.

“You already made a promise like that James, don’t lie to me.” Irritation flashed across his face.

“I’m not lying.” You huffed, clutching your papers in your hands. You’d leave the ink. He’d probably need it more than you.

“Merlin, You told me that the last time, James. What else am I supposed to believe?” He ran a hand through his messy curls. “I don’t understand.”

An incredulous expression took up residence on your face. You blinked furiously as you looked at him.

“What don’t you understand? You come home to me after missing an apology dinner, smelling like another woman. Lily Evans no less.” Venom laced itself through the words as you spoke them. His jaw clenched and he crossed his arms. Muscles tensed as he took in the anger in your eyes. You didn’t often get angry, not like this.

“Lily is my friend, I won’t let you make me feel like shit for spending time with her.” You threw your hands up in the air. The clock down the hallway ticked away, eating at you as you turned away from him.

“I never asked that of you, don’t you dare put words in my mouth.” Tears finally spilled over your cheeks. He scoffed.

“At least look at me.”

You whirled around, eyes glassy and lip trembling. Frustration rose. Here you were, crying over the loss of a relationship that hadn’t even ended yet. You swiped at the tear tracks.

“Why? I can’t do this anymore James. I love you, really, but it isn’t fair for me to have to keep asking you to occasionally put me first.” James wore an expressionless look as you spoke. Your heartbeat thundered in your ears, an unsteadying drum to your own heartache.

“I do. I don’t understand where this is coming from.” A forlorn feeling took root in your stomach. He didn’t understand. Maybe you were fooling yourself, thinking you could work through this one. After everything, it was too much to bear.

“Alright.” He furrowed his dark brows.

“I’ll ask Mary if she can swing by tomorrow and help me pack up my things.” He startled, reaching for you once more. A sob caught in your throat as he gripped your shoulders. The soft florals of Lily’s perfume engulfed you.

“What? No, what are you talking about?”

Something undecipherable had leaked into James’ words, panicked and shaky as he searched your face. All he found was resignation. You were giving up. James shook his head, licking his lips and leaning down to stare directly into your teary eyes.

“You’re leaving me?”

You let out a breathy laugh, humorless and cold as it curled around your ears.

“You spend more time with Lily than me these days. I won’t fight for someone who isn’t doing the same.” You watched as his face fell. His lips parted as though to speak, but no words fell from his lips. You knew he couldn’t defend himself from the truth; at the very least, he couldn’t defend himself from this truth.

You spoke again. “I love you.”

You pried yourself from his tense grasp and made your way back to the bedroom, locking yourself in the bathroom for privacy. After tomorrow, you’d no longer be in a relationship. James would no longer be your boyfriend, and peace would have to be made. You shared too many friends for the opposite to be an option. You sighed, pressing the palms of your hands into your eyes to keep the tears at bay.

When did it all go wrong?

[suuuupernovaaa]

steyki

steyki [English] vtr. anger, make someone angry

Neteyam gets angrier than he knew he could be when he sees another member of his clan trying to stake a claim on you, and takes matters into his own hands.

Adult Neteyam. Jealousy trope.

1,445 words.

Hunting wasn’t really a strong suit of mine. I was skilled with a bow, almost exceptionally so, and I understood that killing was part of the cycle of life, but I simply didn’t like it.

Instead, I had made myself handy at gathering. I could spend all day in the forest, pillaging through the wildlife, taking just what the clan needed and leaving no trace of myself.

Which was why it was so infuriating that once again, Marek had found me. Every day for the past month, he had found me.

It wasn’t that I didn’t like Marek. He was a fine young man, handsome and well spoken, admired by many, but I knew I did not share the affections for him that he shared for me.

He followed me around for hours, asking incessant questions about the plants I was harvesting, how they would be used, and I wondered how he didn’t know these things - or maybe, he was pretending not to know.

With my basket overflowing, I finally announced that I was ready to return home. “Come,” I said to Marek, who was falling over himself with questions again.

Sometimes, I wished he would just declare his intentions, so I could reject him and we could both move on.

He followed me back to Home Tree, telling me about his most recent kill, and I tried to be very interested and kind, but I could not have been more relieved when he bid me farewell.

“See you tomorrow, Y/N!” he said with a friendly wave, and I winced.

---

Marek’s friends teased him later that night.

“You follow her around like a lovesick Syaksyuk,” Ani, Marek’s oldest friend, said. “Just make your claim!”

Marek shook his head. “No, it will not work with her. She has to... I have to convince her, first.”

“This is what you waste all day doing?” Neteyam chimed in, having only been half listening to the conversation. He didn’t know Marek that well, but Ani was a good friend. “Following some woman around? Who is she?”

“Y/N,” Marek said.

Ani continued to tease, and the two men did not notice that their friend had grown very quiet.

Y/N, Neteyam quietly seethed. Marek had ideas on Y/N? Planned to make her his mate? That was impossible. He hadn’t even realized they knew each other very well. How long had this been going on? How absorbed had he been in his father’s training that he hadn’t noticed?

Neteyam gripped the bow in his hands, using every ounce of his self-control not to pounce on the innocent man in front of him. Of course, other members of the tribe were going to notice Y/N. Was she not the most beautiful woman they had ever seen? Was she not well-spoken, kind, and intelligent? He was a fool to think he could waste time with training and put off declaring himself to her.

He was angry with himself. What if Y/N was planning to say yes to Marek? What would Neteyam do then?

Marek was his friend... but he had to get to her first. 

---

Having dropped off everything I’d gathered that day near the fire pits where the daily meals were prepared, I considered socializing a little. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Marek and two of his friends talking, and one of them was glancing my way.

Neteyam.

My heart felt like it was being squeezed tightly in my chest. I hardly ever saw Neteyam anymore. In fact, it had been weeks since I spotted him. When we locked eyes, he stood up and made his way hastily over to me.

“Y/N,” he called, waving.

“Neteyam,” I greeted as he approached. “Where have you been?”

He sighed. “Training, always.”

I smiled, and he began walking with me, even though I didn’t really know where I was walking to. I thought about heading back home, or maybe back into the woods to dip my feet in a shallow pool. It was a very hot day.

“Well, the son of Olo'eyktan must be prepared for all things.” I looked over my shoulder, to where Marek and his best friend, Ani, were staring.”Ugh, please come.” I grabbed Neteyam’s arm and pulled him until we were out of sight, and alone.

“What was that?” Neteyam asked. I pressed my back against the tree behind me and sighed.

“Marek,” I said, wincing. “He, well, he...”

Neteyam’s face fell. “He wants you to be his mate.”

I groaned, putting my hands in my face, and felt ashamed. Marek was so kind, skilled, and handsome; I knew many women who would be flattered and even thrilled by his attentions, but here I was, annoyed.

The truth was, I had pined for Neteyam for quite some time. It wasn’t smart, to hope for the affections of the next Olo’eyktan, but I couldn’t stop myself.

As handsome and skilled as Marek was, Neteyam was a thousand times more impressive. No one was as kind as him, no one cared more deeply for their family, and certainly no one was more beautiful than the man standing before me.

“Does he bother you, Y/N?” Neteyam asked, reaching out to gently pull my hand from my face.

“Well, he doesn’t mean to... but he follows me all day. You know, I like to forage. I’m good at it, I, it’s easy and it makes me feel useful. Plus, it’s peaceful, to be in the forest alone most of the day. But now, almost every day, Marek follows me and talks. He talks, and talks, and talks, and I know he wants to ask me, but he won’t. I don’t know why he won’t.” The words spilled from my mouth like vomit, and I felt a little embarrassed to confess this to Neteyam.

“And if he did,” Neteyam asked, stepping just a little closer, “what would you say?”

“I would thank him for his offer, and say no. And then, he could move on to a woman worthy of his affections. He is wasting his time.”

Before me, Neteyam seemed to relax. His ears turned up, and his shoulders fell down just a little, and the tense lines in his forehead disappeared. 

“I know how to get Marek to leave you alone,” Neteyam said, and my eyes brightened up.

“Please, I will do anything,” I begged, reaching out and putting a hand on his chest.

“You must take a mate. Another mate.”

Disappointed, I fell back against the tree again. “No one else has expressed interested, Neteyam. I’m very strange. Most people, they don’t pay much attention to me.”

Neteyam shrugged. “I do.”

I grinned at him. “You do not. I never see you.”

“You would see me much more, if we were pledged to each other.”

My eyebrows furrowed and I pursed my lips. “Are you offering to pretend, so Marek will leave me alone?”

Neteyam’s grin grew ear to ear, and I wanted to sigh at the beauty of it. “No. I am trying to express my affections to you, and doing a bad job of it.”

Standing straight up, I pushed myself off of the tree behind me, forcing Neteyam to take a few steps to avoid us both falling down with my sudden forward momentum. 

“What?” was all I could manage in reply.

“I will not see you with someone like Marek. In fact, I will not see you with anyone else,” Neteyam said, a fierceness in his eyes that I rarely caught a glimpse of; he looked just like his mother.

He reached for me, placing one arm behind my neck, and the other low, on my hip. 

“You are not strange, Y/N. You are beautiful, and skilled, and smart, and you deserve to be loved by someone you love in return. I would hope, that could be me.”

My mouth was dry. I opened it, then closed it again, as he pulled me in so close that our chests were nearly touching. Neteyam was nearly a head taller than me, and I could almost hear his heart beating out of his chest.

“Yes, Neteyam,” I said finally, in a whisper. “I am yours.”

Not even a second later, Neteyam brought his mouth down to mine in a forceful, passionate kiss. His arms wrapped around my waist, nearly lifting me off the ground, and we sighed in unison.

All the fears and anxieties melted away as Neteyam held me, and kissed me with such a tender passion that I saw stars.

I could not help but think that, after everything, I owed my happiness still to Marek.

[norman-fucking-reedus]

Daryl Dixon, born to be a sweet mamas boy but forced into severe mommy issues. I will literally bury myself in this grave

Like okay sure the bad biker boy with a dominant streak is hot or whatever but realistically under all those layers of steel and dirt there’s nothing but a damaged boy.

I think about Daryl dating a woman of a motherly nature and how it would utterly fuck with his head. She’s more on the traditional side and usually expresses her love through cooking as well as baking.

At first, he doesn’t like any of it at all. The way you always want to cook for him when he literally didn’t ask you really bothers him, to the point he found himself not eating whatever you made out of sheer stubbornness, not knowing each plate was your indirect way of affection.

He doesn’t like the way you persistently try and get him to talk to you, because why do you even care? Sometimes the two of you will argue and Daryl will just storm away after a string of insults. He feels so gulity afterwards, especially when he knows that he really does need someone to talk to.

The hugs are the worst. The way you suddenly hug him makes his skin burn and he fucking hates it. Not physically, but he pushes you away. It’s what he wants of course, to not be around you and your forced niceness.

It’s what he wants of course, to be alone by himself. No background noises or smells. He can’t hear the way you passionately move around the kitchen or smell the mouthwatering smell of whatever you’re making. That’s what he wants.

When he comes back from a long run, so obviously shaken up and disturbed, there’s nobody to try and pry as to what happened even though he knows he needs to get it off his chest. That’s what he wants of course. He doesn’t need comfort, no. He never did. Never ever.

So why did he need it now?

Daryl thinks about you and how you did so much for him without him even lifting a finger, how you willingly put in the effort and he just threw it all back into your face without a second thought. He thinks about how hurt you he must’ve left you all the times he flat out refused even your prettiest dishes.

He thinks about the concern that etches your face when you practically beg him to talk to you, beg him to tell you what’s wrong so you can maybe help him. Daryl feels his chest tighten when he thinks of how he downright pushed you out his life, and feels a lump forming in his throat when he realizes that he needs you.

He was alone with only himself and his thoughts, ones that frightened him to his very core. He thinks about your hugs and how he yearns to feel the burn of his skin against yours.

Daryl wants to go to you, but he’s scared. He’s scared that you’ve already moved on and found someone better, someone worthy of a woman like you. He scared that you won’t want him anymore yet here he stands, nervously on your porch.

He’s not ready, no event in his life could have prepared him for this. He knocks with a shaky fist and can hear the sounds of his quick breathing.

The door opens just as widely as it always has, you standing there in your apron covered in flour. He thinks about turning around, you’re obviously busy with things much more important with him. As he opens his mouth to speak, you cup his face gently with soft floury hands as if insecpting it.

“Somethings bothering you”

Daryl nods, and he feels like he could melt into your hands.

You usher him inside, closing the front door and shuffling to the couch, dismissing his silent questions about his shoes. He joins you on the couch with a little space between you, he’s not sure how angry you are with him.

Daryl wants to apologize, he wants to beg for you to let him try again and let him do it right this time, but he just can’t find the words, twiddling nervously with his fingers in his lap. You watch him for a moment, reading his limited body movement before reaching up and brushing away a tear Daryl didn’t even know fell.

“Tell me what’s hurting you” You whispered, voice warm and comforting as your fingers danced across his cheek.

He found himself choking on the words, stuttering them out as he slightly flinched away from the contact although he desperately wanted it. “M-m’sorry. Fer being a dick to ya” Daryl mumbled, leaning back towards your hand. “I jus- I got scared”

You raised a brow. “You? Scared? Scared of me?”

He nodded. “I don’ understand wha’ ya want from me”

“I don’t want anything from you, Daryl… I just wanna take care of you and be there for you”

“Why? Why someone like me?” Daryl scoffed. “M’nobody”

“You’re somebody to me” You whispered.

“Wha’ did I do to deserve ya? Ya don’ even know me” He turned to you, the tip of his nose a light red and his eyes glassy.

You took his face between your hands once again, placing a soft kiss to his forehead. “But I do. I see it, Daryl. I can see all the hurt you’ve been through, everything you’ve pushed away, down, all of it. All you’ve ever known is pain and my sweet boy, I’m gonna take it all away for you” You smiled, pressing your forehead against his.

Daryl’s heart pounded so hard that he feared it would exploded, more full of love than its ever had the chance to be. You held him as if he was made of the most fragile glass, brushing your nose against his as he sniffled.

“I love you” Daryl suddenly blurted, because he had denied himself of the truth for so long. He wanted to be with you, wanted you to take care of him.

You gave him another smile, this time placing a gentle kiss to his chapped lips. “And I love you too. Say, I was in the middle of making a cobbler, but I just don’t have anyone to lick the spoon…”

Daryl raised a brow. “Is it peach?”

“Only cobbler I know how ta make” You tugged him off the couch, and he followed you into your beloved kitchen, stepping foot into it for the first time. He thinks about all the times he watched you twirl around, cooking something with love only for him to completely disregard it. The thought made him visibly upset. “Something wrong?”

“Jus’ wish I appreciated yer cookin’ more s’all” He mumbled, regret written on his face, even more when a twinge of hurt painted yours. It was clear as day his past actions really did hurt you.

There was an awkward moment of silence, before you handed Daryl a peach. “As long as you appreciate it now” He could almost cry from how many chances you willingly give you, chances he just didn’t deserve.

“Yeah. M’gon appreciate you too, how I should’ve from tha’ very start” Daryl whispered, biting into one of the sweetest peaches he’s ever had.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

oof I made myself cry and this isn’t even that good 😕😕

｡･:*:･ﾟ★｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★

[drvirgus]

Just a secret

Stuco! Haerin X Basketball player! Reader

Warnings: blackmailing, curse words, angst

wc: 1.7k

a/n: heres part 2 of Just a secret 😏Good luck guys😜😂

pt1

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A laugh escaped my throat as I looked amusedly at the slightly younger woman. Excitedly, she jumped up and down on the spot, clapping her hands repeatedly. Her eyes were wide as she looked up at me. "Then my sister suddenly took the cake from me and dropped it on the floor," said Chaewon, the cheerleader who had been trying to get me to go on a date with her for months.

But I declined.

Now we were standing in school again. My back was leaned against the lockers, my arms crossed over my chest. My eyes were fixed on the cheerleader, almost rigidly, because I could feel my ex-girlfriend's gaze on me. I glanced at her briefly and our eyes met for a few seconds until she suddenly looked away, her jaw slightly tense.

Sighing, I pushed myself away from the locker, causing Chaewon to stop talking abruptly. She tilted her head questioningly as she looked at me. "Oh. Did I talk too much?" she asked more quietly, causing my eyebrows to raise.

Chaewon was really a great woman.

She was attentive, quite sweet, had an amazing body, and was considerate. Exactly what I liked in a woman.

But she wasn't Haerin...

"No. It's all good. I just wanted to go out for a smoke."

"You smoke? I thought you quit months ago?" the smaller girl asked, while my eyes briefly flickered to my ex-girlfriend. She was once again standing with the mean girls of the school by some of the lockers, each of them holding a smoothie or coffee.

"I lost the motivation to quit."

Chaewon looked at me confused, but before she could say anything, I ran a hand through her hair and then disappeared outside.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Eight weeks had passed since the breakup, and Haerin tried every single day to reach or talk to me.

My eyes were on the ground as I took repeated drags from my cigarette, letting the smoke linger in my lungs for a few seconds before exhaling. My butt was leaned against one of the poles. A sigh escaped my lips as I closed my eyes for a few seconds. With another drag, I suddenly felt a coughing fit overtake me.

That was normal, considering I hadn't smoked in weeks...

"You're smoking again?"

Still coughing and with my hand in front of my mouth, I stared at Haerin before averting my eyes from her once more. My jaw was slightly clenched. I managed to calm down a bit, but the taste of the cigarette lingered in my throat, causing me to cough a few more times.

"What do you want?"

Haerin sighed and leaned against the bike rack pole just like I did, her hands gripping the pole on either side of her. She didn't look at me. But I didn't feel alone when she was there.

"I miss you."

A laugh escaped my throat as I looked at my ex-girlfriend in disbelief. "Now you miss me?" I asked quietly, careful not to be too loud. After all, no one was supposed to know that I ever dated the school president, Kang Haerin. That Kang Haerin was a lesbian!

Haerin looked at me for a while. She seemed to be thinking about how or what exactly to say.

"I love you."

Surprised, my eyebrows shot up.

Kang Haerin wasn't the type to often say she loved someone. She showed it more through her actions. But sometimes, she would say it, especially when she didn't know how to show it. This had happened only twice before. Now... three times.

"Should you really be saying that here?"

I dropped the cigarette to the ground and crushed it under my shoe, my eyes narrowing slightly as I looked at my ex-girlfriend again. Unfortunately, I couldn't deny that my heart was racing.

Haerin swallowed. Her eyes were only on me as she pushed herself away from the pole and took a small step closer to me. Of course, not too close, so that other students, who were probably watching us from a distance, wouldn't get the wrong idea.

"Who could hear us? It's just you and me here."

Haerin had a small smile on her lips as she now stood right in front of me. Her feet made me spread my legs a bit so she could stand between them. Her eyes were fixed on mine.

I swallowed hard, gripping the pole a bit tighter, but slowly, my grip loosened, and my hands landed on the hips of the black-haired girl. "I don't want to be just a secret," I said more seriously now, looking deeply into my ex-girlfriend's eyes.

Nervously, the woman between my legs licked her lips as she leaned in a bit more. Her body pressed against mine as she took a deep breath through her nose. "You know... I can't... it's not that simple," she murmured more quietly. "But... I'm trying, aren't I?" she asked as quickly as possible, her eyes almost panicked as they widened at me.

I took a deep breath. The scent of my ex-girlfriend always drove me crazy...

"OK-"

"Well, look at this."

Startled, Haerin jerked away from me, panic evident in her movements. The voice of one of her friends rang out. My eyes immediately fell on Hanni, who had a grin on her face, casually glancing at her nails before looking at me and then at Haerin.

I stayed silent.

"What do we have here?" Hanni asked, a dark laugh escaping her throat as she placed her hands on her hips. "Is our little sweet Haerin a lesbian?" she asked, her grin widening as she saw Haerin turn pale.

"N-No. That was all just a joke," Haerin stammered, scoffing suddenly as her face contorted. "Me, a lesbian? HA, never," she said, suddenly pretending to gag exaggeratedly. She then waved dismissively with her hand. "I was just messing with her," Haerin said in her mean girl attitude, gesturing toward me with her thumb.

My eyes widened as I looked at my ex-girlfriend in disbelief, my jaw clenching as I shook my head in disappointment. I pushed myself away from the pole.

"Do you really think I believe you, Haerinnie?" Hanni asked, laughing lightly as she shook her head and finger back and forth. Her eyes briefly fell on me before returning to Haerin. The latter was still pale, and I could see her body trembling.

I licked my lips once. "It's not what you think. Haerin and I aren't together," I admitted truthfully, which only made Hanni laugh again. She suddenly grabbed her phone and played an audio recording, a wicked grin on her face.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

"Because you're my—" 

"Really? It doesn't feel like it,"

"Oh no? Then what does it feel like to you?" 

"Fuck buddies. It feels like we're nothing more. We don't go on dates, we don't hang out, not even with your friends, because they can't know. We only meet at your place or mine, have sex, and then maybe watch a movie or cuddle,"

"You knew what you were getting into," 

 "Yeah, I knew. I thought that would be enough," 

"But it's not enough,"

"It's over between us."

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

In disbelief, Haerin gasped as she realized where the audio came from. It was from the exact day I broke up with her. My eyebrows shot up. "Why are you showing us the audio now?" I asked, clearly tense.

Regardless of whether Haerin and I were together or not, I still didn’t want her to be hurt.

"Well, I saw my chance and took it," Hanni replied casually as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. A yawn escaped her lips as she gave us time to process everything.

"You want something," I said, seeing how Haerin couldn’t utter a word. Her legs were shaking uncontrollably, so she leaned against the pole again. I sighed in annoyance as my eyes focused on Hanni. "You’re clever," Hanni said as she clasped her hands behind her back and began to laugh.

"Well, I do want something. But neither of you will like it," Hanni said, glancing at Haerin and then at me. "But you’ll do it. Unless you want this to be made public?" she said, pointing briefly to her phone. Not once did her grin fade. Her eyes were gleefully squinted.

I actually had nothing to do with the situation...

I could just leave...

My eyes turned to Haerin, who looked even paler now. The fear of being outed was written on her face. I cursed myself inwardly for still caring about her.

"Okay. What do you want?" I asked, more irritated than before, which only made Hanni laugh louder. Her eyes were on me. "Well," she began, giggling. One of her eyebrows raised. "I want you," she said, causing both Haerin's and my eyes to widen.

"Sorry, what?"

Finally, Haerin spoke up. Instinctively, she took a step closer to me. "What do you want from her?" she asked, her voice still trembling and her face still pale, though she was still trying to... what was it? Protect me?

Hanni rolled her eyes. "Relax," she said, looking at Haerin. "I just want Y/N for one day and one night," Hanni began as she licked her lips. "You see... I’ve always wanted to try it with a woman. But the risk of it getting out would be too great," Hanni said casually, while she paced back and forth confidently. Her hands gestured as she spoke. "That’s why I want Y/N. A date and... well... whatever happens at the end of a date."

Hanni was just a malicious bitch...

"So you just want to get laid, but no one can know?" I asked through clenched teeth. My forehead was furrowed as Hanni started laughing.

"Oh please. I’m not the one getting laid," Hanni said, biting her lip and looking me straight in the eye.

Haerin stayed silent the whole time. Her head hung down. Her body seemed so small...

"No," Haerin began suddenly, but I cut her off.

"Okay."

Hanni laughed while Haerin looked at me in disbelief. Hanni bit her lip again. "God, that was easy," she said, still laughing as she shook her head. Amused by the whole situation, she looked at Haerin. "You really are pathetic," she spat out, turning her gaze to me. "See you on Saturday, baby."

My eyes followed the much smaller girl as she left us outside. My heart was racing in my chest. Disappointment, anger, and heartache...

"Why... did you agree?"

I looked at my ex-girlfriend in irritation. "Because of you... no matter how much I should hate you, I can’t... did you even see how you look?" I asked, a bit angrily, which made the smaller girl flinch. "Oh, forget it," I spat out.

Intentionally, I bumped my shoulder against hers as I walked past her.

She didn’t even stop me...

[lottiies]

one of his many journal entries about you

arthur morgan x fem!reader and male!reader <33

i won’t lie…i have 45 hours on the game and i’m not even past chapter 2 (っ- ‸ – ς) why progress when i can save myself the pending heartbreak and instead admire this pretty man and his journal sketches?

anyways…love all you arthur morgan kissers ♡

“my body doesn’t feel right as of late. my hands are too rough, my face is all wrinkled up, and my voice isn’t all that pleasant. if only i could sound as smooth as i write.

never been the most confident of men, but well, this body’s what i’m stuck with. used to go months on end without shaving until i realized my beard looked like bills. how embarrassing. miss grimshaw, the strong-headed woman she is, knocked some sense into me too. well…more like slapped me.

shaving makes me look more approachable, and that’s not really a good thing with my reputation. but, i did it anyway and spent a pretty penny on the barber up in valentine’s…had to pay a bit extra because of the drunken ruckus lenny and i caused there last time.

if my heart hadn’t been captured, maybe these worries of mine wouldn’t even exist.

oh, the ridiculous things love does to a man…”

꒰ fem!reader ꒱

“about as beautiful as the stars above; a woman so otherworldly that sometimes I have to look away. she shines too brightly for these tired eyes of mine. i suppose that’s for the best, ain’t it? a man like me, the walking embodiment of sin, isn’t worthy of such a loving lady.

but that doesn’t keep her away. she often asks me to recount some of my adventures, and i hesitantly do so, fearful she’ll think me a bad man. craziest thing is, she looks more worried than anything else whenever i do as told. telling me to be more careful with that honey-like voice of hers. could listen to it all day. it’s like a balm to the soul.

can’t keep myself away from her either. doesn’t matter what she’s doing, i always find myself wandering over to her. i don’t usually have trouble sleeping, i’m like some rock when it comes to it. but she’s occupied my mind too much lately, falling asleep is difficult. like right now. should be sleeping, but i’m not. just up wondering about the ifs and hows.

i’ve been saving up some money so i can go get her something real nice, maybe a pretty dangly necklace. could just steal one, but i want to prove myself to her. she deserves the best, not something that belonged to some other stranger.

god knows i’d do whatever i can to keep her safe and sound. i’d die for her. funny thing is, i considered myself to be a selfish man before breathing the same air as her.

i can say with absolute certainty that i would give up everything for a future with her.

if she’d have me.

…

now, this fool’s about to try and sketch her.

not sure if i can encapsulate her beauty onto a page, though.”

꒰ male!reader ꒱

“i fear I’m going mad. i never thought i’d feel this way about a man before. then again, pursuit of romance has never been a priority in my life. he’s one of a kind, something about him makes my palms feel all clammy.

he never leaves my head, every inch of this brain of mine is consumed with thoughts of him. his grin, the way his hat perches on his head, the stories he shares ‘round the campfire.

i’ve come across many men on all my journeys, but his handsomeness is unmatched. and he’s different. doesn’t nag me like dutch or get on my nerves like micah, but he isn’t just a brother like some of the other folks here.

i’ve been a bit too scared to drink these days. you know me, i spill my guts out and say stupid things like a damn fool when i get like that. wouldn’t know what to do if i were to sputter out how fine of a fella i think he is, or how grateful i am for him. is this only a special friendship? no, i don’t know how to describe this.

well, yes i do, actually.

love.

my fingers trembled while writing that.

some may call this spark a sin, but going down an altar with him would be a taste of heaven itself. that wish is too far-fetched though.

all i ask for is a sign. just one. maybe i’m misreading the glimmer in his eye, or the way the bastard slings his arm over my shoulder and sings after he downs some moonshine.

weird how life works, isn’t it?”

[sachirobabe]

Stress fracture | K. Tobio x F!reader

Warnings: Cursing, injuries, timeskip spoilers, arguing, hurt/comfort⚠️

An: repost from my Wattpad

Female reader.

Wc: 1341

"You're so stupid sometimes, Tobio." You sigh as you shut his door for him. He waits for you to round the car and get into the drivers seat before answering.

"Am not." He huffs.

"We're supposed to meet up with your sister and mom, but instead we're on our way to the doctor." You sigh, eyeing him for a second before turning on the car.

"I didn't think I'd get a stress fracture, didn't even know that was a thing." He mutters the last part to himself.

"Your body isn't keeping up with you, obviously you're going to stress your ankle out and injure it." You feel bad for scolding him over injuring himself, but you've warned him for weeks to ease up on the training.

"I should be back in about a week or two right?"

You look at him like he's crazy, "Doesn't it hurt?"

"I mean, yeah, but it's like a minor thing, right?" He continues, not taking his injury too seriously.

You shut your eyes despite driving then quickly open them, "Tobio.. I don't even know what to tell you right now."

"Why's that? I'm being serious." He frowns.

"Yeah, that's the scary part. You'll probably be out for longer than that." You sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to take this too well.

"I can't." He denies.

"Injuries don't work that way." You shrug, "Just focus on getting better, yeah? Plus you've barely been home.. so."

"I spend plenty of time at home." He argues.

"To sleep and eat, but we don't see much of each other." You explain, all of a sudden feeling nervous.

"We've talked about this already." He says, turning his head, finding the window much more interesting.

"And I'm going to say it again, you need to let yourself rest." You're trying your best to not have this conversation blow up.

"Are you sure you're not just saying that so I can be with you longer? I told you how demanding my job is." He crosses his arms.

"Tobio, I'm not trying to argue with you right now." You grip the steering wheel tightly.

"Then what're you trying to do?" He scowls.

"Take care of you. You're injured and I'm concerned at the amount of training you're putting yourself through." You explain

"My training's just fine." He crosses his arms and faces his body towards the window. He's so sassy sometimes.

You decide to leave it at that, the rest of the car ride was silent. The clinic comes into view and you notice your boyfriend shift uncomfortably in the leather seat.

You tried your best to park as close as you can, knowing you'd have to help Tobio get out of the car.

"I can get out myself." He glares and opens the door before you can even turn the car off. You roll your eyes and decide to let him suffer. He begins to walk and immediately scrunches his face in pain.

You walk in front of him and into the clinic, he was being stubborn so you'd let him suffer his own consequences. The lady at the front desk attends you and you're both waiting for your husband.

Tobio is limping as he walks in, pain evident on his face. "Would you like me to get you a wheelchair, sir?" The woman asked.

"I can walk myself." He says to her, she raises an eyebrow and motions for you both to follow her. A small part of him wanted you to help him, but he was never going to ask.

You take it upon yourself to aid him, he grumpily lets you, deep down he's really relieved. His ankle was throbbing. He's finally sitting on the bed in the room, scooting all the way to the back so his injury wasn't just dangling.

His phone is buzzing with texts and calls from his sister and mother, he ignores them and is waiting for you to speak to him. You look the other way, finding the wall entertaining.

He scoffs, what's so appealing about the wall? You don't even react to him. The doctor enters the room and begins to examine his ankle, finally being told he's out for 6 weeks.

The doctor gives you a list of things to help quicken the healing process, you listen intently to what is being said.

"The doctor's more interesting than me, huh?” Tobio says as he's settled in the car.

"Don't Tobio." You warn.

"Now you wanna talk to me? I bet you're happy I'm gonna be home for so long." He says.

"What's gotten into you? All you do is spend your time playing volleyball, I understand that's your job, but when's the last time we had a date night?" You question, beginning to drive.

He ignores your question, "That's quite literally my job."

"I know it's your job, but you're overdoing it. We don't eat dinner together anymore, we don't go out on dates, I go to bed alone and wake up with you already gone." You say frustrated.

"I warned you about this when we first got together, you can't expect me home all the time." He faces you.

"I'm not saying that, Tobio, you're not even listening. You're upset because you have a stress fracture and you're out for 6 weeks. You don't need to be taking that frustration out on me. I just miss spending time together, that's all." You finish your little rant and he stays silent.

Tobio gets out of the car by himself and is waiting by the door for you to open. He limps to the couch in the living room and pulls out his phone. He begins to realize you're right, he's been staying after a lot more and leaving much earlier for practice.

An important match was coming up and he just wanted to be the best he could, unknowingly he was pushing you off to the side. Now he feels like he's an asshole—no, he knows he's being an asshole.

You went up to your shared bedroom and haven't come out since. You've taken some time to cool off and answered some messages, mostly informing his mother and sister about what happened.

Tobio struggles to go up the stairs, at the top he's breathing heavily and sweating. Your head turns towards the door hearing it open.

He limps onto the bed and scoots so his back is resting on the headboard. He didn't even realize as he was getting situated and being careful to not injure himself more, that you'd left the room. "Fuck." He groans.

You now sat on the couch, focused on your phone. Your husband didn't struggle as much as when he was going up the stairs, he made sure to be quiet so you wouldn't move.

He sits next to you and you begin to stand up, "I won't be able to follow you if you go back upstairs." He says out of breath. "Please just stay." His hand reaches for yours, his eyes looking at you apologetically.

You glare at him and sit back down. "What do you want."

He sighs, "I'm sorry for earlier. You're right, I was upset because I'd be out of volleyball. I didn't mean to make you feel like I don't want to spend time with you."

"I know, it just hurt how you kept getting defensive about it. I'm aware of your job being demanding, but we'd still be able to do things and relax." You explain and he listens wholeheartedly.

"I know, babe, I'm really sorry. We have an important match coming up and I went a little crazy." He agreed. "I'll do a better job, I promise."

You smile, "I'm sorry for not helping you get out of the car."

"I deserved it." He laughed, "I know you'll take good care of me, no more running off, I can't keep up." You both laugh.

"Come here." You say and press your soft lips to his. "I'll take great care of you."

[temptingfatetakingnames]

Dancing in the Dark Part 2

Part 1

Time was moving slowly and Eddie wanted to smash his head on the table. Women kept coming over to talk to Steve. They brought him drinks (that he politely refused), they eyed him up and down, they complimented him, they touched him. On the shoulder, shyly on his knees, they leaned into his space and smiled brightly at him. They all asked him to sing again. Please, please sing again. You were amazing, they said with their breathy, feminine voices. Eddie wanted to scratch their pretty smiles off their stupid pretty faces. Steve shook them all off with a smile and Eddie was honestly a little surprised that he wasn’t soaking up the attention more.

Nancy and Johnathan were on stage singing a Sonny and Cher duet that probably would have sounded a lot better a few beers ago. It was late though, and most of the crowd was drunk and having a good time, singing along with them. The latest woman to strike out with Steve slinked away after leaving a napkin with her phone number on it.

“I’m gunna get some air,” Steve said, getting up from the table. Eddie watched him make his way through the crowd until he couldn’t see him anymore. When he turned back around, he saw Robin staring at him, her eyes wide and slightly unfocused.

She jerked her head in the direction Steve went. “You should go after him.”

“Should I?” Eddie asked, bewildered.

“Yeah, go see if he’s okay,” she said slurring her words a little.

“Shouldn’t you go see if he’s okay? Miss Best Friend?”

Robin pursed her lips and shook her head.

“Miss Best Friend says you need to go,” she said and then gave him the most uncoordinated wink Eddie had ever seen his life. He looked through the crowd towards the door that Steve had disappeared out of. He knocked his knuckles on the table and stood. Robin gave him two thumbs up and a huge grin that he couldn’t help but snort at.  

He made his way through the room, gently nudging people out of his way. When he got to the door he took a deep breath, pushed it open and stepped outside. Steve was leaning up against the side of the bar with a cigarette hanging loosely in his fingers. He was looking up at the sky, deep in thought, a small frown hovering on his lips. He looked beautiful and sad and Eddie felt his heart clench painfully in his chest.

How had he missed it?

How fucking sad he looked sometimes?

“Hey man,” Eddie said as he walked over.

Steve looked at him and Eddie watched in real time as a mask came down over his face. He tilted his head to the side and a little half smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

It almost reached his eyes.

Almost.

If Eddie wasn’t looking closer now, he would have been fooled by it. It was well practiced, automatic, near perfect…and Eddie’s heart clenched again.

“Munson,” Steve said with a warm affectionate voice that Eddie didn’t feel he deserved. He held out his cigarette between two fingers and Eddie took it.

They traded it back and forth, quietly smoking.

“You should sing more often, you’re not as terrible as I was expecting you to be.”

“High praise coming from you,” Steve said and nudged Eddie’s shoulder playfully.

“Why don’t you?”

Steve shrugged and took another drag of the cigarette before answering. “I used to… with my mom. She loves Springsteen.”

It both was and wasn’t an answer. No parents. Big house. Eddie wondered when they stopped singing together. The silence stretched between them. Eddie fiddled with his rings, turning them around and around his fingers. He didn’t know how to talk about things like this – the big things. How do you ask your friend why he doesn’t sing with his mother anymore? How do you ask him why he sang Springsteen tonight if it hurt him?

“I was wondering what Robin was going to say earlier – what else you’ve been up to?” Eddie asked, choosing an easier question.

“Oh.” Steve seemed surprised. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “Well, I figured out that I really want to work with kids. For my job? But I really screwed myself over with my grades so I’ve been talking to Hop about what I can do. He’s going to write me a reference letter and see if he can help get me into college next year. In the meantime, I’ve been volunteering at the public school. Basically, a camp counselor for an after-school program. I – I really like it. The kids are great. I’ve been teaching them basketball and swimming. There’s this one girl, Ashley – she’s so shy, but so sweet! Took me weeks just to get a smile out of her, but a couple days ago she hugged me and gave me cookies that she made with her mom –” Steve cut himself off before muttering, “sorry, I’m rambling…”

Another adorable blush started creeping over his cheekbones. Eddie couldn’t think of a time that Steve had talked so much at once. He usually just listened when they all got together, chiming in every now and then with a comment but never talking a whole lot. But then he tried to think about the last time he or the kids had asked him a question about what he was doing or thinking and – he couldn’t.

“It sounds great, man!” Eddie said around the lump in his throat. “Tell me more.”

Steve smiled. A real one this time, small and shy.

“Yeah?” he asked.

Eddie nodded… and Steve talked.

He had been volunteering since the spring. It was mostly younger kids whose parents weren’t home when school got out. Steve said that the program was pretty bare-bones and that the other counselors just let the kids do whatever they wanted in the school playground or gym but didn’t really plan any activities. Steve changed that by introducing sports and trips to the pool and lake as the weather warmed up.

The kids genuinely seemed to like him which surprised him but didn’t surprise Eddie at all. He told him more about Ashley. Her mom was on her own; her husband had passed away a few years ago. Steve didn’t say she was his favourite but Eddie could tell that she was. Something about how shy she was at the start and how she was slowly opening up to him really affected him. As he spoke, his smile got wider and he talked with his hands more and Eddie was captivated. He nodded along and let Steve talk for as long as he wanted, only asking the occasional follow-up question.

“I’m going to see if there’s a program I can volunteer with in the summer, too.”

“I’m sure there is,” Eddie said with a smile.

Steve ducked his head to hide his face. After a moment, he looked up through his hair and said, “thanks.”

“Thanks for what?”

“For asking,” Steve said. “For listening.”

“I’m sorry for not asking sooner.”

“How could you ask about something you didn’t know about?”

“I should have asked about you,” Eddie said quietly. 

For a moment the mask slipped off Steve’s face and Eddie saw the same dark emotion in his eyes that he had seen earlier. But just as quickly it was gone – hidden behind his confident self-assured attitude and a smirk on his lips. Eddie was starting to see it for the armor it was.

“I’m not that interesting,” Steve said and leaned back against the wall of the bar, lifting his face up to the night sky. The words were regurgitated – someone had said them to him enough times that he had internalized them, consumed them until he thought they came from his own mind. Eddie had a lot of experience with that. There was a lot that they had in common, Eddie was realizing.

“I don’t want this to sound condescending or weird… or whatever, but –” Eddie paused and cleared his throat before continuing, “can I give you a hug?”

Steve looked over at him with surprise and opened his mouth, probably to say ‘no’ or ‘what the hell, Munson?’ but Eddie turned to him, arms spread wide and he closed it. The moment stretched and Eddie didn’t think he was going to hug him. He was just standing there, staring at him, an unreadable expression on his face – probably trying to determine Eddie’s sincerity so he held his eyes, stepped a little closer and opened his arms wider.

Hug me, Big Boy.

Steve closed the distance between them slowly, like he thought Eddie might change his mind if he moved too quickly. He smiled at him gently and Steve sagged forward, resting his head on his shoulder. He let out a sigh when Eddie brought his arms up and held him tightly. After a moment, Steve gripped him back just as hard.

Now that the hug was initiated, Eddie had no idea what to do. Rub his back? Try to get him to talk? He had never been good with his own feelings, let alone someone else’s. But Steve was his friend… and he was hurting.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asked as gently as he could.  

Steve immediately tensed up but didn’t pull away. Eddie rubbed small circles into his back and looked at the sky. The stars shone brilliantly in the night; he could see why Steve kept looking up at them. They held on to each other silently. Steve was still tense in his arms, despite the circles, and Eddie was convinced that he wasn’t going to answer. Which was fine, maybe a quiet hug was what he needed. The circles didn’t seem to be helping so he stopped. He brought one of his hands up to Steve’s neck and slipped his fingers into the hair at his nape. It was soft. Steve shuddered at the motion and went limp in his arms.

“No,” he whispered.

“No,” he forced out and Eddie could tell from his voice that he was fighting back tears.

“No,” he sobbed and clutched at Eddie with desperation. His body shaking as the tears overwhelmed him.

Eddie made soft shushing noises and rocked them gently, his fingers still tangled in his hair. Tears pricked at his own eyes in the face of Steve’s turmoil. He wished they were somewhere else; somewhere warm and quiet where he could bundle Steve up and keep the world from hurting him… keep the world from hurting him more.

He felt small in his arms… fragile. Which was crazy because Steve was a protector. He had saved the world. He had saved Eddie – had dragged him out of hell despite his own injuries. But who protected him? Who asked him how he was doing? What he was feeling? Eddie was desperate to know why he sang Dancing in the Dark. When Robin forced him up on stage with whatever secret he didn’t want the rest of them to know he could have done any song he wanted. He chose Dancing in the Dark – and then sang the most heartbreaking version Edde had ever heard. Steve had put everything he was feeling into it; had practically screamed at them to see him.

“Talk to me, Steve,” he prodded softly. “Tell me anything, everything. I want to hear it. Talk to me, please.”

Sniffles and shaky breaths, but strong arms still clutched Eddie tightly.

“I – I don’t sleep…” Steve said so quietly Eddie had to strain to hear the words. “Everyone keeps saying it’s over but it doesn’t feel over. It’s been over before…and even when I do manage it, I have these awful dreams. Robin stays over when she can, and it helps… but she’s leaving and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. And the kids are getting older and they don’t need me anymore. And I finally have a goal, something I want to do but what if I fucked myself over in high school and I end up stuck at Family Video forever? I don’t know what I’m doing Eddie, and I can’t sleep.”

Eddie was once again struck by how much they had in common. Nightmares and the fear that the Upside Down could come back at any moment? Check. Unfulfilled dreams and the fear of falling into an average boring life? Check. He didn’t know how to tell Steve that he understood, that he saw him. There was a song that came to mind, one of his favourites by Dio that always helped him when he felt lost and alone. Talking about feelings was hard, but singing? Eddie could do that. He could do that for Steve.

He started singing Rainbow in the Dark quietly, giving Steve something to lean into, to listen for. He softened it, like Steve had with Dancing in the Dark, turning it into a companion piece – a continuation, a parallel.

When there's lightning You know it always brings me down 'Cause it's free and I see that it's me Who's lost and never found

I cry out for magic I feel it dancing in the light It was cold, lost my hold To the shadows of the night

No sign of the morning coming You've been left on your own Like a rainbow in the dark A rainbow in the dark

Do your demons, do they ever let you go? When you try to do they hide deep inside? Is it someone that you know?

There's no sign of the morning coming You've been left on your own Like a rainbow in the dark Just a rainbow in the dark

Steve’s tears had stopped as Eddie sang. They were holding each other lighter now, softly standing close. Steve had leaned back so he could see Eddie’s face as he sang.

“It is over, Steve… truly over. We won and Vecna is dead. I know that won’t stop the nightmares – it hasn’t for me. Not yet. But it will eventually, when it keeps being over. I’ll come over when Robin is gone. We can help each other sleep, yeah? And the kids are always going to need you – maybe not in the ‘demon slaying, use my body as a shield’ way – but in the older brother who loves them way. I think you’re interesting, Steve. I think…” Eddie paused, trying to get his thoughts together. “I think you’re one of the most interesting people I’ve ever met. I want to know everything about you. I want to know why your mother stopped singing with you and why your house is always empty. I want to know why you sang Springsteen tonight. I want to know why you got so good at hiding what you’re really thinking and feeling. I want to know your favourite colour and your favourite food. I want to know about your dreams and your nightmares…I want to know it all.”

“Why?” Steve whispered.

He was close enough that Eddie could see the green flecks in his eyes. His face was blotchy and red from crying and his hair was a mess from Eddie’s fingers, and he had never looked more beautiful. They still had their arms around each other but they weren’t hugging anymore – it was more a loose embrace, and Eddie was viscerally aware of the difference. Steve wasn’t pulling away though, was holding his eyes like they held the secrets to the universe. It made him feel brave.

“Because I like you and I want to know you, Steve Harrington.”

Steve smiled brightly, warming Eddie with the glow. He looked down at the hand that Eddie had on his waist and grabbed it. And just like that Steve was holding his hand, and smiling at him and Eddie didn’t know what to do with the feelings fluttering in his chest. He thought he might be having a heart attack.

“I like you too, Eddie Munson.”

He was definitely having a heart attack. Eddie squeezed his hand and then moved forward a bit so he could rest his forehead on Steve’s. He huffed out a small laugh, unable to comprehend how they had got here.

“Here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to get our friends and take them home, then I’m going to come over and we’re going to sleep and in the morning we’ll talk more. Sound good, sweetheart?” The term of endearment popped out of his mouth and Eddie blushed furiously.

But Steve smiled and said, “Sounds good, Eddie.”

Final Part

---

I really wasn't planning on writing a part two of this ficlet so I didn't have a plan when I started. I hope you like it as much as the first part, it turned out much sadder than I thought it was going to. It's funny to me that even though Steve sang Dancing and Eddie sang Rainbow I think the songs work better the other way? Steve is the Rainbow and Eddie is Dancing - I guess that's why they sang them to each other <3

@newtstabber @warlordess @tillystealeaves @imfinereallyy @heartsong18 @saltyseagoat83 @aceofwands @djohawke @th30ra3k3n @lazy-duck @surreal-honeypot @awkwardgravity1 @yoriposts @alycatavatar @tearsonthemoon222 @roastingdragon @mightbeasleep @helpimstuckposting @goblintendencies

[dee-the-red-witch]

…a lot of folks just see themselves in the mirror. Before I came out and started my transition, I mostly saw static- I'd gotten really good at making my brain just tune out what I was feeling about what I was seeing. But once I stopped hiding from myself? The litany my brain went through every time I saw my own face was way too loud and clear.

Chin too wide. Forehead too big. Brow ridge is massive, you have to keep your eyebrows constantly raised just help hide it. Where's your upper lip? It doesn't matter if that's been your hairline from birth, that fivehead is terrible.

And more. It was even worse before I'd started laser for my facial hair and found a stylist that does amazing work reshaping my eyebrows. And none of it is vanity. It's just my brain doing it's own best to hurt itself with all the reminders of a puberty that went in the wrong direction. Of the fact that I wasn't a girl.

And I want to point out something- all these features I've listed? They're all present in cis women. Gorgeous cis women. There's nothing inherently male about any of these. Hells, on a good day, I pass as a woman in public without much issue, which is something I never thought would happen.

But this isn't about passing. It also isn't about ultimately going stealth and hiding the fact that I'm trans. I fully intend to stay loud about that for the rest of my life. It's about being able to look in the mirror and not want to scream about everything that doesn't match what's in my head at all. It's about making that list shut up. I can see past it sometimes. Just sometimes. But that's why the second of these two surgeries I'm having needs to happen. So I can see it more often. So I can be myself, without the horror movie litany in my head.

And the fix for it? In my case it's the following, since I didn't want to deal with implants or fillers. Bone reduction in the chin and brow- make the former narrower and reduce the brow ridge entirely. Adjust the upper lip with a slight pull upwards, done just under the nose. Since my skin's going to be loose from the removed bone, use it to pull things a bit further by bringing my hairline forward and down a touch. That';s it. slight adjustments that'll leave my face looking like I got hit by a truck for the first six months of recovery, but afterwards, a face more like what I expect to see in the mirror.

And yes, this post is happening because GFM once again reminds me to give detail and insight about the medical needs I need covered to my audience. And for those of you unfamiliar, maybe it at least gives some perspective. I don't think they quite knew what they were asking for with these particular cases, and I'm hoping I didn't just horrify the lot of you with this. But when it comes to asking 'why I need to do this'? This is part of it. Making some of my life that much less of a struggle.

Anyways, thanks for taking the time on reading through this one if you've gotten this far. If you can, please, again, share this fundraiser around- I've got a long way to go still, but I'm hoping I'll be able to make it.

137 days to go.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Home | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mention of parental death, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 4388

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You sat cross-legged on the floor of the boys’ motel room, sipping a coffee you’d run out to get earlier that morning. Dean was on his computer, and you were responding to the potential cases he’d found.

“A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali—” Dean started.

“Ooh, I like Cali,” you cut him off.

“—Its crew vanished.” He finished.

“And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.” 

“Meh, that’s boring. Let somebody else handle that one,” you dismissed.

Dean noticed Sam hadn’t spoken in just about the last hour. He was frantically scribbling on a notepad.

“Hey,” Dean called to his brother. “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.”

He clearly wasn’t.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.”

“Ooh, I like that one,” you said. 

Dean leaned over and waved a hand in front of Sam’s face. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at his notepad. “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” you asked.

Sam got up from his bed and began rifling through his duffel bag. 

“What are you doing?” Dean eyed his brother strangely.

The younger brother pulled out a photo from the bag and held it up next to his drawing. You couldn’t quite see what he was looking at from where you sat.

“Guys, I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Back home. Back to Kansas,” he responded.

The older brother was surprised. “Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

He showed the photo to the two of you. “Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?”

“Yeah…?” Dean still had no idea where he was going with this.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?” 

Dean— as well as you— was still lost. “I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house— I think they might be in danger,” Sam rushed out.

“Why would you think that?” you questioned.

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam turned away.

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” Dean shook his head and stood to follow him. “Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give us a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it is all,” Sam shrugged.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.” 

You turned to face Sam as he began to explain. “I have these nightmares.”

You nodded. “We’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true.”

Dean was stunned. “Come again?”

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death— for days before it happened,” Sam explained.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean sat back down on the edge of his bed. 

“No,” the younger brother protested. “I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

You felt overwhelmed, and so did Dean. “I don’t know.”

Sam sat down across from his brother. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!”

“Sam, slow down—” you urged him, knowing Dean was about to go through the roof.

Sure enough, Dean stood and started pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” you asked.

Dean’s voice broke for the first time since you’d met him. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes appeared as he spoke softly, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

Dean nodded. “I know we do.”

***

You looked out at the boys’ childhood home and followed them up to the front door.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asked his brother who didn’t respond.

“Jury’s still out on that,” you muttered in response.

Dean knocked on the front door, and a young woman answered. You could see a look of recognition pass over Sam’s face.

“Yes?” the woman said.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”

One Winchester cut the other off. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

The woman seemed surprised and smiled. “Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She turned to you. “Are you a Winchester, too? I didn’t see a little girl in any of the pictures.”

You shook your head. “No, no. Just a friend. (Y/N).”

She smiled at you. “Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

Inside the home, a girl who looked to be around seven sat at the table doing homework, and a little boy who was presumably two jumped in his playpen.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” the toddler called excitedly.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny explained, taking a sippy cup from the fridge and bringing it to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She walked back over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). The boys used to live here.”

“Hi,” the shy girl said quietly.

You waved.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here, or…?”

Jenny’s smile faded. “No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam questioned.

Jenny laughed awkwardly. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home— I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here—”

You discreetly turned to see Dean smile weakly. 

“But this place has its issues,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

That caught your attention. “Oh, that’s too bad. What else?”

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

Jenny looked at him quizzically. “It’s just the scratching, actually.”

Sari tugged on her mom’s shirt, who stooped down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asked.

“The thing in my closet,” she whispered as if the thing would hear.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny looked up to you and the boys. “Right?”

They shook their heads.

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny explained.

Sari’s voice suddenly got louder. “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire.”

The boys seemed too shocked to speak.

You took over. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re okay now though, right?”

She nodded.

“See? It didn’t get ya. It was only a dream.”

You knew it wasn’t. A pit filled your stomach after saying your goodbyes to the family and heading out of the door. 

“You hear that? A figure on fire,” Sam reminded the two of you.

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” the older brother chuckled humorlessly.

“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean responded.

The brothers were only making each other panic worse at this point.

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam inquired.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Both of you need to calm down,” you told them, simultaneously getting in the car. “We’re gonna get those people safe. Whatever’s in there is not gonna hurt you or those people.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Dean remarked.

You snapped into a more intense tone, leaning over the backseat. “Look, dude, you’re gonna get your shit together. The two of you are only ramping each other up. Now, you are going to get a grip or I will do this job on my own.”

Sam and Dean both nodded.

“You’re runnin’ low on gas, Dee.” You patted Dean’s cheek before sitting back against your chair. 

***

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all,” Dean said as he pumped gas. 

“I’ve tried telling you that eighty times since we left that house.”

He ignored your snide comment. “You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

"We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam sighed.

"Exactly,” the older brother began, “except this time, we already know what happened.”

"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

"About that night, you mean?”

"Yeah.”

Dean paused. “Not much. I remember the fire… the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”

You looked at the floor, knowing how hard this must be for him to open up.

“You did?” the younger Winchester asked.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

"No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was— was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

"Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

You decided to add your two cents. “Yeah. We can talk to your dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Silence blanketed the three of you for a moment, the air feeling heavy. 

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam piped up.

‘Of course, it doesn’t,’ you thought.

Dean kept quiet for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walked away, and you watched him turn the corner around the gas station. He looked back for a moment, and you assumed it was to see if anyone had followed him.

You furrowed your brows. You allowed a few minutes to pass before you announced to Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.”

While you turned the corner, you saw Dean exiting the bathroom door. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he noticed you, he tried to shoulder his normal attitude.

“You stalkin’ me?”

“No, actually, I came to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine.” He went to brush past you.

You grabbed his bicep. “Don’t lie to me.”

He stopped, looking you over. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Then what’s this?” you gently brushed your first finger under his chin, picking up a tear he had forgotten to wipe away. You held it up for him to see.

Dean opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again. He gently pulled his arm out of your grip. “C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking away from you.

You caught up to him, asking, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to do this one by myself?”

He nodded sharply. 

Sam gave you a curious look while Dean got in the car.

You shook your head before the two of you ducked into the Impala simultaneously.

***

The three of you spoke to a man who had owned a car garage with John years ago. You learned how much John had changed before Mary’s death versus after, and you began to understand why Dean was the way he was. You also learned that he had been going to see a palm reader in town. Dean recognized the names of one of the palm readers Sam had read from a compiled list: Missouri Moseley. The three of you went over to her house and waited in her foyer as she finished with her last client.

She guided the client out of the door. “Alright, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.”

The man thanked her, and she closed the door behind you.

She addressed the three of you. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

You giggled.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asked.

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” the woman explained. You stared at her, as did the boys.

“Well? Sam, Dean, (Y/N), come on already, I ain’t got all day.”

You looked at Dean. You knew you hadn’t told her your name. The three of you followed her into the next room. 

“Well, lemme look at ya,” she smiled at the boys. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She pointed her finger at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.” 

You giggled again. You liked her a lot.

“Sam.” Missouri grabbed his hand. “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father— he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean questioned.

Missouri’s smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?” 

“Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

You smirked at Sam and sat down.

Missouri snapped at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he responded.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and you and Sam smiled.

“(Y/N), honey, I didn’t mean to completely disregard you,” she smiled at you. “(Y/L/N)... where do I know that name from?” She pondered for a moment and her smile faded. “I knew your dad. Mean ol’ bastard.”

Your throat clenched. You could feel the boys looking at you, but you kept your eyes on Missouri. 

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she went on. “I’m just sorry about what he did to you. And your brother? You poor thing.” She tsked. 

Tears welled in your eyes. 

Sam knew he should change the subject. “Okay. So, our dad— when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him,” Missouri explained.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean questioned.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?”

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your throat was still choked up. You could vaguely register them talking about what Missouri sensed in their house and how she had been keeping an eye on the place since Mary’s passing. All you could focus on were the memories you were being pulled back into. Memories of what your father put you through and how your mother just stood by. Memories of defending your brother against your father’s wickedness. You tried your best to pull yourself back to the light; you knew Missouri could hear what you were thinking. You wouldn’t let yourself be weak enough to let your father hurt you eight years after his death.

“Baby, you are not weak.” Missouri’s voice pulled you back to shore. “I’m sorry I brought all that up for you.”

You nodded at her, voice too weak to respond. Sam squeezed your hand, and you could feel Dean’s gaze boring into the side of your head. 

***

You and the boys headed back to their childhood home with Missouri. You still couldn’t register what was going on outside of your own head. You knew Missouri hadn’t truly brought anything up for you; these memories were all just buried under the surface for you. Hunting didn’t exactly leave much time for you to dwell on your emotions. 

Jenny allowed Missouri to come into her home and showed her and your trio into Sari’s bedroom. You were beginning to come back to earth and could focus on the conversation happening around you. 

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” Missouri explained, walking around Sari’s room. 

“Why?” Sam asked.

Missouri turned to him. “This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”

Dean pulled out his repurposed walkman.

“That an EMF?” Missouri asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

“Amateur,” she deadpanned.

You noticed the EMF was beeping frantically. 

“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri told the Winchesters.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

She nodded.

“How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Not it.” Missouri opened the closer. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?” Dean asked.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected,” Missouri elaborated.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

“You said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

Dean’s voice became hard. “Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

***

After Missouri taught you how to pack small protection bags that you and the boys were to place in the cardinal points on both floors in Jenny’s house, you had to get Jenny and her kids out of harm's way.

“Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you guys here alone,” she told Missouri.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.”

You could tell the woman was still unsure, but she followed orders anyway. And with that, the four of you got to work.

When you were halfway done with the job, things started to get ugly. Just as you were about to place your second and final bag in the wall of Jenny’s bedroom, a cord snaked around your neck and pulled tightly. You dropped the bag of herbs to the ground; unable to get it into the wall in time. You gasped for air, frantically reaching for the bag but the spirit’s hold was too strong. Your vision began to spot and your face contorted in discomfort; doing the best you could to get air in your lungs. It was no use. Just when you thought it was over, Dean rushed to your side.

“(Y/N)!” he cried, pulling at the cord with all his might.

You clawed at your neck with one hand and motioned to the bag of herbs with the other. Dean understood what you were trying to say, and kicked a hole in the wall. He quickly put the bag inside, and your neck was released. Your head fell to the ground gasping for air.

Dean pulled you into a fierce hug that left you breathless. He pulled back from you, holding your face on either side. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. He gingerly touched the place where the cord had undoubtedly bruised your neck. “Can you stand?”

You nodded again. With Dean’s help, you made your way down to Missouri and Sam who stood in the middle of an extremely messy kitchen. Jenny’s kitchen table had been turned on its side with knives driven through the top of it, assumedly by the ghosts. The refrigerator door was swung wide open, and various items from the pantry had spilled out all over the place. 

“You sure this is over?” Sam asked the psychic.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?”

Sam sighed in response. “Never mind. It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opened.

“Hello? We’re home,” Jenny announced when she walked into the house. She came into the kitchen, dumbfounded by the mess. “What happened?”

"Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this,” Sam told her.

“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess,” Missouri added.

Dean stood glued to his spot.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”

He glared at Missouri, but began walking away nonetheless.

“And don’t cuss at me!”

***

You remained confused by how Dean had hugged you for the rest of the night which you spent in the Impala parked in front of Jenny’s house.

“Alright, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asked his brother.

“I don’t know. I just… I still have a bad feeling,” he responded.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”

Dean slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.”

You slumped down in your seat, too, only to see Jenny screaming and banging on her bedroom window. “Guys, look!”

The three of you rushed into the house.

“You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean said.

You nodded and sprinted to Ritchie’s room. The sleeping toddler was startled when you woke him up, but allowed you to carry him downstairs nonetheless. You met Sam by the front door who said to Sari, “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” She obliged and took the little boy from you. 

Before the two of you could do anything else, you were slammed to the ground and dragged backward across the tile floor. You could hear poor Sari screaming as you and Sam were dragged away. 

You were pinned to the wall by an invisible force and pushed up toward the ceiling. You could hear presumably Dean hacking away at the door, trying desperately to get in as a figure on fire approached you.

Dean made his way into the home and called your names frantically. He raised his gun at the fire figure when he caught sight of it.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam cried.

“What, why?!” you asked.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

And then, the fire vanished revealing who you recognized from pictures as Mary Winchester. She was wearing a white nightgown and her blonde hair billowed softly around her. Her feet were bare, and her aging skin was only slightly wrinkled.

You could see tears rising in Dean’s eyes as he lowered his gun. “Mom?”

The woman smiled and stepped closer to him. “Dean.”

She walked toward you and her youngest son. “Sam.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked. 

She looked at him sadly, but said nothing.  

The woman turned to you last. “Thank you,” she said. 

You smiled back at her, though you weren’t quite sure what she was thanking you for.

She turned away and looked up toward the ceiling. “You get out of my house. And let go of my son.” Her hair and nightgown were swept up into flames once more. The fire licked up to the ceiling, growing larger before disappearing entirely. You and Sam were released from the wall at once.

“Now it’s over,” Sam muttered.

***

The sun had risen while you and the boys were in the house. You called Missouri back to the Winchesters’ childhood home, and she sat on the porch talking with Sam.

You were standing with Dean by the car looking through his old family photos.

“Thanks for these,” Dean told Jenny.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours.”

Dean put the trunk of photos and family memorabilia in the car.  You and Dean bid Jenny, who thanked you, goodbye before leaning against the car together. The two of you knew you had a lot to talk about, but you weren’t brave enough to start the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked you.

You couldn’t look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you know.”

You paused a moment before turning to face him. “I promise I’ll tell you, just… not today.” You stuck out your pinkie for him to take.

He chuckled at you. “What are we, five?”

“Just do it, asshole,” you smiled back.

He linked his pinkie with yours, shaking your hand back and forth lightly. The two of you stood there for a second, staring at each other and getting lost in the moment. Before long, you both realized what was going on and jerked away from each other.

Dean scratched his head. “Sam, you ready?” he called.

Sam nodded and came over to the car.

“Don’t you kids be strangers,” Missouri told you.

“We won’t,” Dean responded. 

“See you around,” the woman winked at you.

You smiled at her before getting in the car and driving away. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @doublecrazyyymofo

[miguelhugger2099]

Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality. 

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.” 

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered. 

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. 

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.” 

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples. 

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil. 

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks. 

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back. 

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?” 

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself. 

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

[woso-fan13]

Whumptober 2023: 26 (Barca)

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.” 

“Y/N,” a voice calls. 

You hum in response, not looking up from where you’re packing your bag. Practice had just ended and you were trying to get out of there as quickly as you could. You had a list of things you needed to do. 

“Want to come out tonight? We’ve got tomorrow morning off!” 

You still can’t place that voice. You know who it is- one of your teammates, obviously- but your brain is exhausted and can’t pack your bag while matching the voice to a name. 

“I can’t, not tonight,” you say, “have fun, though!”

You really did want to go. You would love nothing more than to have a night off to relax with your friends. But you knew you couldn't, you didn’t have time. Between practice and games for both club and national team and all of the travel associated with those, you stayed busy. Add to that your full course schedule at school and the countless commitments, you barely had time to sleep. 

Your bag is finally packed at this point, and you hike it up over your shoulder. You’re about to say your goodbyes when a different voice calls your name and stops you. Pausing, you look up to where Mapi stands with an amused look on her face. 

“Are you wearing that?” she asks. 

Confused, you look down. You had thrown leggings and a sweatshirt on after your shower, pretty much all of the girls were wearing the same thing. 

“Yeah,” you say, the statement coming as more of a question. 

“Your socks will get dirty,” she chuckles. 

You just blink at her, unable to process what she means. She takes pity on you, walking over to your locker. She grabs your shoes out, gently tossing them on the floor by your feet. 

“Oh,” you audibly say. 

“Yeah, oh,” Mapi copies you, “are you okay?”

You nod, shoving your feet into your shoes, “just busy.”

Mapi nods knowingly, “at least practice is over now. How about we drop you off so you can get some sleep?”

She motions to Ingrid when she says this. As your eyes move to look at her, you notice that the locker room is empty. Minus the said woman sitting on her locker and watching the two of you, everyone had left. You had no idea how you didn’t notice. 

“That’s okay, thanks though,” you decline, “I can drive myself, I have a whole list of things I need to do tonight.”

You yawn halfway through speaking, Mapi’s face softening. She scanned your face, noticing the large, dark bags under your eyes and the tiredness covering your features. 

“No, chiquita, you can’t drive home. You’re exhausted, it’s not safe.”

You want to argue, but you know she’s right. Before you can even begin to half heartedly disagree, Ingrid inserts herself into the conversation. 

“Mapi can drive you back in your car, and I’ll drive ours. Does that work?”

You nod in agreement. The idea satisfies Mapi too, as you can see her mirroring your nod. 

Since everyone was ready, the three of you moved to grab all of your things and head to the parking lot. Mapi shakes her head as she grabs your phone and keys from where you left them in your locker. She shoots Ingrid a look, both women frowning. You’re oblivious. 

—-

The drive home is short, thankfully you lived close to the club. You’re somewhat confused when Mapi gets out and follows you to the door, your confusion growing as Ingrid follows. Surely they weren’t planning on coming inside. 

They were. 

The two women didn’t allow you a chance to close the door, pushing their way inside. Mapi sets off to the kitchen, clearly on a mission. You can hear as she starts looking through cabinets, but you’re too tired to care. 

Ingrid places a warm hand on the small of your back, guiding you into the living room. You try to protest, insisting that you have things you need to do. She silences you quickly, insisting that you sit with her for only a few minutes. Agreeing with her, the two of you settle on the sofa. You’re leaning into her side, her hand stroking through your hair. You can feel your eyes drooping after a few seconds, but her gentle voice rouses you. 

“Stay awake, baby, just for a little while longer.”

You whine in response- something you’ll vehemently deny. Ingrid smiles, allowing you to silently rest against her until Mapi appears in the room.

She’s holding a plate in her hand, a sandwich and fruit sitting on it. Sitting on the table in front of you, she pushes it into your hands. 

“Coma,” she insists, “as much as you can.”

You manage about half the sandwich and all of the fruit before you look up to Mapi. She’s still sitting in front of you, watching you eat. She smiles encouragingly. 

“Done?”

You nod and she takes the plate from you. You’re somewhat surprised when she sets the plate on the coffee table, moving to sit next to you on the sofa. 

You try to wiggle out from between the two women. They gently stop you. 

“I appreciate you driving me home and making dinner, but I really do have things I need to do,” you argue. 

“You’re exhausted,” Ingrid simply says, tracing the bruises under your eyes gently with her thumb, “all you need is sleep.” 

Mapi chimes in before you can respond, “she’s right, peque, it’s time for bed.”

You really want to insist that you can’t sleep yet. But you’re so tired and they’re so kind and all you want to do is sleep. You don’t remember agreeing to sleep. You don’t actually remember anything after that point. 

Ingrid and Mapi watch as your body relaxes between the two of them, sleep finally taking over. The two remain still, chatting quietly. They don’t want to do anything that might jeopardize your sleep. Unfortunately, this includes moving because of the way you’re stretched across their laps. 

(They don’t mind this at all. They actually think it’s very fortunate.)

Eventually, they’re pretty sure you’re zonked for the night. As much as they would love to spend the rest of the night on the sofa with you, it wouldn’t be comfortable for anyone. After a brief argument, it’s decided that Mapi will get to carry you to bed. She stands up, cradling you against her. Sticking her tongue out at Ingrid, she walks to your room and settles you under the covers. She may also stay longer than necessary, pushing the hair off of your face and watching your soft features as you sleep. 

Meanwhile, Ingrid grabs the plate off of the coffee table. Going into the kitchen, she cleans everything up and starts the dishwasher. Walking over to the large calendar on the wall, she looks at the list of things to do under today’s date. 

—-

You wake up in the morning to the sun shining in through your blinds. That’s not good. You don’t remember falling asleep and you were supposed to be awake before the sun rose. Taking a deep breath and resigning yourself to less sleep tonight as you make everything up, you get out of bed. 

Walking into the living room, you notice that it’s much cleaner than when you went to bed. Suspiciously, you move into the kitchen. That, too, is sparkling clean. 

The next thing to catch your eye is the changes on your calendar. That was your baby, your whole life ran on that large whiteboard. So, when you noticed different color markers and new handwriting, your breath caught in your throat. 

Walking over, you can see the list of activities you were supposed to do last night crossed out. You also see that most of the things you need to do tonight are crossed out, instead replaced with a large “sleep!” 

Oh. 

Mapi and Ingrid had done it all for you. 

Tears well in your eyes at the kind gesture. You only manage to stop them when you hear quiet footsteps behind you. 

Turning around, you see a half awake Ingrid. She’s smiling, clearly pleased with the surprise. You hurry over and wrap her in a tight hug, whispering your thanks. Another set of arms joins the two of you- Mapi. 

[themaclean]

We Don't Have To Be Friends (1/2) Characters: Cooper Howard/Lucy MacLean. Summary: 3,507 words, Post Season One -- character study that was meant to be PWP, but then ended up being entirely plot. Part two will be smut or I will krill myself. Warnings: Nothing you wouldn't see in the show. ( Ao3 ) > Part One | Part Two | Part Three <

Cooper never thought much about Hollywood anymore.

He had no reason to and no time either— but the thoughts bubbled up when he saw how the gold thread of his shirt dulled and familiar street signs melted into slack arches. Sometimes, he’d catch sight of a tattered newspaper with names he recognized or faces of people long since dead.

But nothing made him think of Hollywood the way Lucy did.

It hit him one afternoon with a nasty churn, that flash of the old world that locked his knees mid-stride. It was pathetic, really, when he thought about it now.

It was the flash of Lucy's Vault-Tec-sponsored smile over her shoulder, her thin hand with a necrotized finger pointing ahead of them at some landmark she’d heard of. With her head turned at just the right angle, and the sun was low as it caught the edges of her cheeks and lashes…

She had the sort of face girls in the movies had: clear skin, big eyes, and neat hair. Pretty — beautiful, actually, but not as a matter of compliment. Beautiful in the way she’d make a good price at any given market if he was inclined to sell her. Beautiful in the way people loved to exploit.

That’s the lifeblood of Hollywood—that churning mass of young talent desperate to prove they had what it takes. They’d sweet talk whoever they needed to, go to the parties, and chat his ear off about how amazing he’d been in whatever movie had come out lately, about the sponsorships they’d been offered, and about the dresses they got sent. They’d slip him their number and hold his bicep too long like they’d been taught to by managers and mothers alike.

Dozens of pretty women rushed to audition for the role of arm candy. They’d audition to play the mayor's daughter, the farmer's daughter, or so-and-so’s daughter. They’d always been the damsel. Then, whatever cowboy he’d been hired to play would toss the pretty woman onto the back of Sugarfoot and ride off into the sunset. The sort of girl who'd be gone by the next movie or end up married to a director, so she'd quit acting.

And, much like all the girls in Hollywood Cooper had spent time with, Lucy had changed. She had the same optimism, but it’d dulled; her marketable face now held tired, empty eyes. It was like she finally caught onto the world’s current: no sunset and no next movie.

Cooper couldn’t fault her. It's a strange journey to discover what to do to survive.

“Hey Cooper — is that it?” Lucy asked, repeating herself. The sprawl of buildings ahead was dotted with torches and candles.

Cooper nodded, his hand firm on Dogmeat’s collar.

A short strip of buildings stood out against the expanse of desert and dry shrubs. Each building leaned towards another, with sheet metal fastened with unskilled welding. Several turrets puttered away, seeking whatever wasn’t humanoid enough. Strips of fabric and tin cans garlands peppered the buildings' front. The smaller buildings on either side were your standard fare: a repair shop, a medic, a trader with a little diner area.

But the one Cooper was after stood out for its neon sign—Hell’s Oasis.

Hell’s Oasis served its purpose—it was a decent place to get information, and the people minded their business. They weren’t too bothered with ghouls or mutants as long as you had caps. The place often served as a meeting ground for bounty hunters and their contractors. It was also one of the more upscale places, as they wouldn’t harvest organs unless you died of natural causes.

And, if you couldn’t fight or forage for survival, you could fuck for it.

(Not that Cooper ever wasted caps on the whores who took residence within Hell’s Oasis. He’d sooner pay people to fuck off than spend the night with him.)

Cooper grabbed Lucy by the nape of her neck to yank her close and keep her firmly by his side. Most people he brought here, he left here — call it a force of habit to handle her so roughly.

“I can walk, y’know,” Lucy hissed.

“Stick close,” Cooper clicked his tongue at her, and a slight hiss followed. His grip flexed to further the message that she’d do well to follow his guidance.

They made their way through the hotel lobby, the moldy carpet slick against the floor with dirt and grease from the world outside. A few people chattered away in the attached bar, laughing at jokes Cooper couldn’t make out. Casino chips clattered on the table as they played made-up card games.

Long dead plants clung to arid dirt, the sticks of old ferns wilting against one another. Metal crates were lashed together in each corner of the alcove where the front desk sat, providing a makeshift cage between the staff and the patrons. Several girls rushed past Cooper and Lucy, jeering and cackling as they approached the bar. They were clad in lacy nightgowns. He couldn’t tell if they knew they were lingerie rather than clothes or if they’d even care.

“It’s so lively here,” Lucy said, a pang of something in her face.

“It happens in pockets,” Cooper said with a shrug of his shoulder. Little uh… spots of life.”

“Must be why they call it an oasis.”

Cooper rolled his eyes as they reached the front desk. Magazines sat in thick stacks with information about local tours in the area and a guide to the national parks. An abandoned handbag was tucked against the desk, which Lucy eyed with curiosity.

Cooper slapped the front desk bell a few times, a gargling growl low in his throat.

They needed this break after a couple of weeks on the road together. Water was getting sparse, and he wanted to be ready to meet with whoever the fuck Hank had run off to. And in such an open desert, there’s no sense traveling at night, and all manner of dumb shit came up along the way.

It was always something. People needed help or some dumb cunt trying to pick a fight, resupplies, rest… He didn’t like helping people much, but Lucy argued with him whenever they tried to go on without at least trying. And whether the people lived or died, at least they tried. That was her argument.

But Lucy listened to him a little more now, and he was as patient as he could be with her.

Cooper rang the bell again. He wanted a room, and the chattering laughter in the bar was only making his aches worse.

Priscilla appeared from behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain. Her hairline was hidden beneath a thick headscarf with puffy blond curls bouncing beneath it. The last time he’d been here, her hair had begun to rot out of her skull. He guessed it’d only gotten worse. She’s still pretty, mirroring that old-world red lip with pin curls.

“Oh my God, is that you, Coop? I haven’t seen you in a long time,” Priscilla said in a slow, low voice. She had a rasp to it, always had, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the radiation or a smoking habit.

“Was underground,” Cooper said with a lazy smile. He wouldn’t mention that he’d been underground in a literal sense, trapped in a coffin.

“Well, it’s nice for you to come to see us and…” Priscilla’s gaze slid to Lucy, that usual surprise swelling up at the sight of a genuine Vault Dweller. They weren’t hard to spot. “Ah, you turning her in for a bounty?”

Lucy’s head snapped towards him, a mixture of shock and disgust.

“No,” Cooper shook his head, his grip firm on Lucy’s neck to turn her head away from him. His fingers tensed before they dropped away altogether, brushing across Lucy’s shoulder. “Tag-along. Helpin’ her uh…” He picked through the words that came to mind, cautious not to share too much. “Adjust to the surface.”

Priscilla’s jaw squared as she stared Lucy down.

“We’re just lookin’ for a room, some food,” Cooper said before she could pry further. “Usual fare.”

“Please,” Lucy said, like Cooper had forgotten, and it was important to say. “The usual fare, please.”

“She speaks,” Priscilla said in a purr.

Cooper had to give Lucy credit. She’d stayed quiet much longer than he’d expected.

“Oh, we’ll also need water,” Lucy said, looking up at Cooper. “For cleaning and drinking. I’m not sure if you separate it that way or if you reuse it unless you have showers.”

Priscilla narrowed her eyes. “Running water? We can get you a bucket of water, sweetness. That alright with you?”

“It works great for me. Big fan of buckets. They’re the backbone of agriculture and cleaning, really, if you think about it…” Lucy agreed, her smile as bright as the neon sign by the front window.

Priscilla looked at Cooper and then at Lucy, repeating the loop before she sauntered behind a moth-eaten velvet curtain strung up with zip ties. The distant hum of a generator underscored the silence as Cooper picked over the board of caricatures. Plenty of people were banned from the premises or with a bounty on their heads — no one stood out on the board, at least.

“She was giving us a weird look,” Lucy leaned closer to Cooper, feigning a swipe of her hand through her hair. The floor creaked as she shifted her weight closer to him. “Is it the bucket thing? I panicked.”

Cooper scoffed from the back of his throat.

“It is safe here, right? You trust her?”

“It’s safe,” Cooper bared his teeth at Lucy, begging her to return to the docile silence she’d thrived in.

“Then why — ”

Cooper hissed for her to shh through clenched teeth.

Priscilla pushed past the curtain. She gripped a little blue card with faded gold edges. A key with a golden ball chain was attached to the edge. It felt strangely archaic to be so formal about lodgings, but it was why he liked this place.

“I guess it makes sense,” Priscilla said as she slid the key to Cooper. She nodded to Lucy. “You wanting a girl who’s more… Old—world flavor. It reminds you of the golden years, hm?”

“Six, right?” Cooper ignored her question, his gaze fixed to the card.

“Six,” Priscilla repeated, her gaze on Lucy.

Cooper tossed a few caps onto the front desk, the clatter of metal their own punctuation. He notched his head towards the stairs, and Dogmeat and Lucy followed in stride. He was eager for the simple things — water, food, and a moment to let his bags rest.

“Wanting a girl…” Lucy smiled, mumbling more of Priscilla’s words under her breath.

After several flights of stairs and a few hours, Cooper felt all the better. He’d eaten his fill and enjoyed the peace of an enclosed room. He didn’t often allow himself such a luxury, as being in a settlement put a target on your back for any larger groups. But it’d been two weeks since they’d had proper rest out of the elements.

Tracking Hank wasn’t easy, either. That suit meant he could skip over all the pocked landscape and roaming threats. What would take him an hour to travel by air was a day for them sometimes, a fact that spurred Cooper on. But they couldn’t rush, as rushing would only get them killed.

One wrong step and you were deathclaw chow.

“God, more, please!”

And there went the silence. Cooper’s eye twitched; his lipless mouth sneered at the screeches.

Whoever had taken up residence in room five was making the most of their money — an hour straight of screams and moans, an hour straight of Lucy pretending to read. She’d picked up a holotape at the last outpost they’d stopped at; something about a sequel she’d always wanted to continue reading.

By the second hour, it wasn’t so much that room five stopped fucking. But they at least got a lot quieter about it. The occasional shriek or moan rattled through the air vents, but it was far and few between.

Lucy lay across the double bed, her boots discarded beside the door. Her vault suit hung from the defunct radiator. Her washing was all done, and she’d freshened up, the usual Lucy shit. She’d helped herself to the water and changed into some pajama set she’d pilfered from a house a few days back.

“I think it’s nice,” Lucy said into the open air of the hotel room.

Cooper looked up from his shotgun, teeth bared like he was trying to smile. “The quiet?”

“No,” Lucy smiled at the wall between them and room five. “That people can find love, even now.”

Cooper couldn’t stop himself from laughing at that. The cackles shook from low in his lungs and caught him so off-guard he hacked up some foul muck into his palm. He hissed through a wheezed breath as he fumbled with his RadAway puffer.

“I mean it! It’s not funny!”

“That ain’t love, Vaultie,” Cooper coughed out, his eyes narrowed as drool and tears mingled on his cheeks. He wiped his face, fine skin catching against the scarred, leathery mess. “That…” He pointed to the wall. “S’probably a whore and her John making the most of the caps.”

Lucy’s eyes darted as she picked apart what he’d said. “John..?”

“John’s a term for uh…” Cooper’s jaw strained against a smile, though it was far too cruel to be kind. “A guy who pays for sex.”

“Ah, wasteland slang,” she said with a solemn nod, as if it made sense she hadn’t caught on immediately.

“Old world slang,” Cooper corrected.

Lucy looked around the hotel room anew, like she’d finally caught on to what this place really was. She scooted to the edge of the bed, to sit with her legs angled towards him. “That woman at the front desk said you’d want a girl who’s old world — she thought I was a prostitute. ”

“Maybe.”

Lucy crossed her arms as if she had more to say on the matter. But then she remained quiet, uncharacteristically so.

“S’waste of caps.”

“Hiring me to have sex with you? Actually, I know all about sexual gratification, so I think it’d be a great use of money — caps.”

Cooper stared Lucy down as if he couldn’t parse what she’d just said. “Paying anyone money to fuck you is a waste.” Cooper tongued his lips apart. “Bullets. Meds. There’s shit worth paying for. Sex is — ”

“Important.”

“Sex ain’t worth much.”

“To you, maybe,” Lucy frowned. “It’s an act of love and intimacy, and… It’s how humanity continues, and it’s — fun if done well.”

“You wanna waste your caps on some cock?” Cooper snapped, his hand flapping at the door. “Be my guest.”

“No,” Lucy shook her head. “I don’t want to, but I’m saying that I… I think killing people is probably worse than sleeping with people for caps. If it’s to survive, I think it makes sense. Morally speaking.”

“Don’t,” Cooper snarled.

Cooper didn’t like how Lucy spoke to him most days, but this was a new, worse permutation. Her Vault-addled morality was sickening enough on its own, as she embodied whatever bullshit had been drip-fed to her by the company who’d bought her vault. Not that he was without sin, given the shit he’d done to survive this long.

But sex and love and all that shit was not front of mind. He needed to find his family and to know what happened to them. He didn’t need a two-cap blowjob from a stranger in the dim light of some bar. Though, in all honesty, his drug habit mixed with the amount of alcohol he’d drowned himself in, some nights got hazy.

There’s that animalistic, self-destructive part of him that won on his worst nights. The same part of him that kept him alive, the same part that let him do all the miserable shit he needed to do to survive.

But it’s certainly never been love. Not since Barb.

Never again, he’d wager.

"I had sex once," Lucy said this like it was a point of pride, now on her feet. She idled beside the bed, her gaze settled onto the empty space she’d been lying. "With my husband, but…" Her face twisted with this delayed amusement. She turned towards him, closing the gap between them.

Lucy’s eyes remained unfocused as she stared at the marked table between them, where his shotgun lay across a dirty cloth. "Does that make us both widows..? You said you have a family, right? So, you were probably married and had at least one kid. Not trying to presume, so tell me if I’m wrong, but… You said that in the observatory. That’s what you’re after."

Cooper parted his lips, a nasty tilt to his hairless brow.

Lucy gave a tight smile. "I was married. Only for a few hours, but… It was an arranged marriage, I didn’t meet him until the wedding. It turned out he was a raider from the surface posing as my match from Vault 32 and…" At this point, Lucy caught herself. “I feel for you, if you lost someone. That’s all.”

“You ain’t a widow.”

“Technically — ”

Cooper stood up, unable to stay seated. “You say you’re a widow like it’s a fact outta some book. The shit you went through — you’re an experiment gone wrong, not a damn widow,” Cooper said, his voice flat.

Lucy’s face twitched at his words as if she struggled to keep her smile. “Well, guess what? We’re all an experiment gone wrong, whether you’re in a vault or not.”

Cooper’s eyes twitched, narrowing in the dark of their hotel room. Room five was quiet, which made this moment all the worse. He didn’t like how she spoke about him, as if she knew what was happening in his mind. He wasn’t some wounded man looking for sympathy.

He wasn’t anything.

“Go back to your holotapes,” Cooper said with a jut of his chin. “You’ve been up here a few weeks, acting like you know how it is.”

“Well, I know we’ve all been screwed over by people hundreds of years ago, and I’m sorry if I’m not as beaten down by it as you, but — I’m just trying to share things with you, to…” Lucy struggled through her words, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. “We don’t have to be friends, but we have to be — something.”

The couple in room five screeched. Cooper tensed out of habit but relaxed again when he reasoned what the noise was. It didn’t solve the fierce look on Lucy’s face as she stared him down, her fists clenched by her pajama-clad thighs.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” Lucy said, shaking her damp hair out of her face. She stood idle by the table as if she had just realized she had stepped towards him in their argument. There was a bird-like shake to her chest, her heart and lungs quick beneath bone.

It was moments like this that made his nature crystalline to him — that thin line she couldn’t perceive of how easy it’d be to string her up by the ankles and bleed her dry. Of how easy it’d be to slide into that ache for warm flesh between his teeth and blood down his throat.

Ghouls aren’t welcome in most settlements for a reason, and Lucy is too damn optimistic to learn that lesson.

Cooper tongued the inside of his cheek, and his teeth gnashed at the frayed edge of his lip. “We have to be something, huh?”

Lucy’s brow twitched, and her jaw strained as she tried to stand taller. She nodded as something like hope softened her stern expression.

It wasn’t hard to close the gap. It was even easier to grab that ponytail she always wore and yank her head close, fist tight in her hair as he brought her close. Her hand scrabbled against the table, and nails dug into the wood as their eyes met.

“Don’t you ever talk about my family again,” Cooper said, his voice level. “We clear?”

Lucy’s breathing redoubled, but she nodded. Her nostrils flared as he let her go with a firm shove. There was a real sense of satisfaction as he felt her perception of him shift as if she’d forgotten she was dealing with a monster rather than a man. As if the rotted skin and exposed tensions, or the gaping hole where his nose had once been, weren’t enough warning.

Pretty girls in Hollywood were overlooked as much in his time — all in the name of survival in a race that no one really won. You took your part and played it until the work dried up. Then, you prayed for sponsorships, deals, and other things to spare you from the real world.

He watched it with co-stars, time and again. It wasn’t much different now, just less rhinestones and more rads.

[killxio]

ceo baby daddy eren.

word count: 1,635 [ 6 min read] | ✪ content warnings: pregnancy, slightly detailed mention of nsfw, writer who still thinks they’re funny, accidental pregnancy, breastfeeding

babydaddy!eren x pregnant!reader / babydaddy!eren x mom!reader / husband!eren x pregnant!reader / husband!eren x mom!reader

✭ you and eren’s journey after an accidental pregnancy.

babydaddy!eren , who is the ceo at the company of a job you just started working.

babydaddy!eren , who you just so happened to have a two (and a half?) night stand with a week before you started your position and realized who he was.

babydaddy!eren , who’s apartment you nervously stand outside of with a positive pregnancy test and a plan to negotiate and vanish.

“look, im sure you’re going to suggest i abort or adopt. i’m sorry but i’m not willing to do either, i’m fine working to support the baby myself and i’ll move to the other side of the country and be out of your hair.” you babble, really only telling him because your friends say he had the right to know. you had no expectations for a successful ceo to put his life on hold to have a baby with a stranger.

babydaddy!eren who scares you with the way he is staring directly at you, leaning against a wall opposite of you, not saying a thing for awhile.

“no. i wouldn’t ask that of you if that’s not what you’d like. i will never abandon a child of mines. im changing your title in my company to a personal assistant. moving your office closer to mines, i want to be around if you need anything.”

babydaddy!eren who always seems to be hovering around your office and demanding you get lunch with him, a way of personally ensuring your fed.

babydaddy!eren who secretly enjoys watching the swell of your stomach as time goes by. unnoticeable to anyone else at work at first. then poking out at him as he watches from your couch as you get ready to introduce him to your family unit over dinner. then having to curl around it to give you a kiss after your first official date night. then soothing it late at night after you’re stirring because baby yaeger is treating your insides like a jungle gym.

babydaddy!eren who moves you into his penthouse because he “is uncomfortable with the thought of you and his child living separately after birth“

“you’re in pain postpartum, alone with a baby and you expect me to only stop by? how do i protect my family if i’m treating them like a 9-5? you already practically live here, y/n.” you finally agree. after making him agree to a dog sometime in the future.

babydaddy!eren who buys the three of you a house, insisting it’s time to mature and the best environment for the most important woman in his life and his son.

babydaddy!eren who digs out holes in the sand so you can rest on your stomach comfortably at the beach.

babydaddy!eren who keeps tiny copies of the photos from that day in his wallet and his desk at work. not just of the bump, but of you. your smile. your beauty.

babydaddy!eren who is there to relieve any ache and pain as best he can, no matter the hour. he lifts your bump or massages you at an instant. (and give the best late night head but that’s neither here nor there)

babydaddy!eren who’s calm after you go into labor late one night, the house dimly lit by candle and moonlight.

“rennie?” he’s up after few light shakes, becoming a light sleeper after you started sleeping over consistently.

his tired eyes peak at you through unruly strands of bed head, shifting into concern after seeing the way you double over and groan out in pain.

“sweetheart? is it your water?”

you can only nod in response, clasping onto his forearm as he sits up in bed. he leans you into his chest, wiping the tears from your cheeks and quietly going over the game plan with you while instructing you to breathe.

babydaddy!eren who was absolutely amazing at directing the nurses rushing around you and maintaining the calm energy in the hospital room.

babydaddy!eren who you catch early in the morning, standing over your sons hospital cradle and just balling in awe.

“elias yeager..” he mumbles to himself, repeatedly, etching this image into his brain.

babydaddy!eren who does the same thing at home, spending hours staring at you knocked out and the tiny curly haired baby laying between the two of you in the in-bed-bassinet.

babydaddy!eren who learned how to make padsicles for you and makes sure you’re always stocked postpartum.

babydaddy!eren who sucks at swaddling but is s-tier at a quick change after a spit up.

babydaddy!eren who has to have your son within five feet at all times. babywearing, skin to skin, working with him in his lap, at his desk, in his home office. he is a sucker for physical intimacy and hated being away from his people.

you’re in the tub of your grand master bathroom, jet feature on low with your son on your chest and a speaker playing your favorite RnB playlist. this is more of a leisure bath rather than a cleaning bath, no bubbles as you don’t want any harsh chemicals on babies skin. your son starts to fuss and you offer him your breast, nursing him back into silence.

“where’s my invite?” yaeger asks from the doorframe, smiling at the two of you. you beam back at him.

“look who’s back from his meeting? hi daddy.” you say to both your son and him.

“hi mommy. hi eli bee-li.” he says, now kneeling at the side of the tub, kissing you, your son and then up to your collarbone. he stands up and begins stripping. his tie.. then his work shirt, and his pants. his boxers go with.

“hey, my eyes are up here.” you raise your gaze and find him staring directly at you already.

“oh shut it.” you say through a smirk, scooting forward to allow him space to climb in behind the two of you.

you lean your head into the space between his neck and collar bone.

he soaks this up, these are the moments he lives for: his girlfriends hair running down his chest, he can feel both her and his son’s breathing, and the warmth of the water enveloping them.

babydaddy!eren who gives a speech thanking you for all you given him at your sons small, intimate first birthday.

babydaddy!eren who lives in bliss everyday for two years, excited to come home to his girl and baby boy.

babydaddy!eren who realizes one day how unfair to you it is that you chase after his little hyperactive son, cook for him, kiss him all over, and upkeep the house all without giving you a ring.

fiancée!eren who proposed intimately on a beach, with the help of your two nearly-three-year-old.

“so, you know what we’re here to do?”

your sons head of medium brown curls only nod at his father, smiling behind his pacifier.

“atta boy. now go hide behind the rock, mommy is coming.”

you join eren for what is supposed to be a normal, romantic beach-side dinner. a few minutes in..

“mama?” your son muffles behind a pacifier, having appeared beside you.

“elias, what are you doing here baby boy?” you softly take out his pacifier.

“dada hav a ques’on.”

as you pick him up and place him on your lap, you shoot eren a confused look.

things are starting to click as eren walks over to your side of the table, kneeling infront of the two of you as your son hands him a black box. (that you somehow didn’t notice despite elias forgetting to hold the box behind him instead of infront of him like eren instructed)

you smile the brightest you ever have, watching as eren reveals an absolutely gorgeous ring and asks,

“y/n, will you bless me with the honor of calling you my wife and marry me?”

“oh. my god. eren. yes. yes!!!”

husband!eren who probably put another little curly haired baby in you on your wedding night.

despite you being bone-tired, eren gives you the most life shattering dick he ever has. your wedding nails leave swollen, and at points bleeding, cuts down his back. he has taken you on every surface in the path from the door to your bedroom, switching from tender to ragdolling you like a fucking madman.

you limped half of the day until you walked it out the next day.

husband!eren who picks you up and twirls you in delight when you get home from your honeymoon and show him a positive pregnancy test two weeks later.

husband!eren who is happy to say “my wife and i are here for our __ week checkup.”

husband!eren who, if you thought was calm the first time, is absolutely serene. you had absolutely no worries besides where the hell the anesthesiologist was with your epidural. everything was taken care of. eren has always been like this, between his upbringing and life, eren did not feel equipped to handle a family but molded himself due to his work ethic. he worked so hard to give his family, most importantly his children a calm and stable upbringing so you’re actually the one more likely to freak out in emergency situations.

husband!eren who sits at your bedside with your son in his lap, answering all his questions about his new little sister, admiring his family and it’s new addition.

husband!eren who tells his 4 year old son and 2 month old daughter milestones of you twos relationship as bedtime stories.

husband!eren who took over the small start up you started before working for him for more income, keeping it in your name but managing it and growing it into a massive success. you carried and care for his children, making you a millionaire is the least he can do.

husband!eren who reminds you everyday how thankful he is for the family and love you’ve given him.

[your-averagewriter]

“I’m gonna marry this woman.”

Summary: Cooper has a job to get to and (y/n) ends up looking after Janey for him when Barb isn't free leading him to realise that she's the woman for him.

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: swearing, kissing, saying God not in the religious way (blasphemy I guess)

-

-

Cooper wraps his arm around my waist as we walk through the park, Janey holding his hand on the other side. Cooper and I have been dating for over a year and at the start he tried to keep our relationship separate from Janey as he didn’t want to make it too overwhelming for her after the divorce but now it’s been a while since we were officially introduced.

“There’s an ice cream truck over there.” I point out. “Janey, do you want some ice cream?” I ask, looking over to her.

“Yeah!” She smiles.

“Coop, do you want one?” I ask and he shakes his head. 

“You girls treat yourselves.” He says and then a ringtone comes from one of his pockets. “It’s work, I’ll be right back.” He gets his phone out and looks at who it is before walking a little bit away.

“Come on, Janey.” I invite. “Let’s get some ice cream.” I say as she takes my hand, which always makes my heart warm a little. “What flavour would you like?”

She examines the board of ice cream flavours before announcing her choice. “Toffee, please.”

“Good choice.” I smile, before walking up to the ice cream stand and buying her toffee ice cream and a strawberry one for myself. “There you go. Don’t drop it.” I pass it to her gently as she takes it and we walk over to a bench, sitting down and waiting for Coop to finish his call.

“What’s daddy doing?” She asks, enjoying the ice cream.

“Oh, he just got a call from work, maybe a new acting role.” I say and she smiles. “He should be back soon.”

“Did you know I used to act with daddy sometimes in the ads he used to do?” She says proudly.

“Oh really? Wow, you’re a little superstar.” I smile, Cooper walking back over not long after.

“How was the call?” I ask, as he walks over. “Any good news?”

“Mixed. Mixed.” He repeats.

“What does that mean?”

“Well, the good news is they wanna hire me.”

“That’s great, Coop.” I interrupt, jumping to my feet and wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him in for a hug with a bright smile.

“You haven’t heard the bad news yet.” He warns, pulling back with a slightly frown. “They need me on set in an hour to sort out some sizing and contract stuff.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I ask.

“I already called Barb and she can’t take Janey for the afternoon so I can’t go.”

“I could look after Janey for you.” I offer.

“I can’t ask you to do that.” He says.

“You’re not asking, I’m insisting. If you’re okay with it of course.” I smile as his hands find their place on my waist.

“If that’s alright…” He gives in after a few moments with a hint of a smile. “God, I love you, woman.” He says, pressing a kiss to my lips with a full grin now. “I’ll go check with Janey, if that’s alright. I’m sure she won’t have a problem with it, she adores you but I should anyway.” I nod, letting him go.

“I’ve got a job I gotta go to, sweetheart and mommy can’t look after you for the afternoon. Is it alright if I take you girls home and you stay with (y/n) for a little while?” She nods quickly with a smile, a resounding yes making Cooper chuckle.

“I think that’s a yes, (y/n).” I laugh.

“Let’s go then, we don’t want you to be late.” I say with a smile.

---

“I should be back around 5:00, 6:00 at the latest.” He reassures me.

“Babe, don’t worry about it, we’ll be fine, take as long as you need.” I press a kiss to his cheek. “Good luck. We’ll see you later.” I press a kiss to his other cheek and wave with Janey as he drives away. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go inside. What do you wanna do?” I ask, taking her hand as we go inside. 

“I wanna show you my room and my stuff.” She drags me towards her room, picking up various toy cowboys and horses that they ride. “You have so much cowboy stuff? Does your dad buy them for you?”

“Yeah. We’ve got matching cowboy outfits.” She says before diving into her draws and pulling out two matching outfits, one clearly an adult’s size whilst the other fits Janey. She begins to put it on above her clothes and I drop the cowboy hat on her head gently. “You should put daddy’s one on so we can match!”

“Really? You don’t think he’d mind that I was stealing his clothes?” I tease with a small smile.

“Isn’t that his jumper you're wearing?” She giggles.

“I guess you're right, I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.” I say, putting the outfit on until we look like matching cowboys.

After a while of playing, I make some food for the both of us and a portion in the microwave for Cooper as it nears the time he said he would be home. Some tomato pasta that we eat while still wearing cowboy outfits. I chuckle as Janey gets some of the pasta sauce around her mouth, passing her one of the tissues to wipe her mouth with.

Cooper stands outside, about to open the door but looks through the window seeing Janey and I eating the pasta. A smile almost fills his face as he tries to cover his smile, mumbling to himself.

“I’m gonna marry this woman.” He whispers, sounding more like a stereotypical cowboy than ever before opening the door and walking in. “How’re my two favourite girls doing?” He grins as Janey runs towards him as he opens his arms to hug her.

He mimes the tipping of a cowboy hat at me with a small smirk and I shake my head, silently saying ‘don’t ask’ but smiling softly.

“How did the job go?” I ask, walking over to him by the door, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Good, first role I’ve got in a while.” He mumbles. “Just an ad but everything counts.”

“I’m so proud of you.” I smile, hugging him tightly, Janey doing the same despite not entirely understanding the context.

---

Cooper pours two glasses of wine, expensive wine, a celebration if you will after Janey’s gone to bed. Janey went to sleep in the cowboy outfit and made me promise not to take mine off so, being a loyal woman, I happily keep it on.

“Cheers to you, baby.” I smile, lifting my glass into the air as he does the same, clinking the glasses.

“Cheers.” He laughs, taking a sip before putting his glass back down on the coffee table. “I wanna ask you something and you gotta promise not to freak out.” 

I’m intrigued, sitting on the edge of my seat already smiling slightly but nervous. “Is it bad?” I ask, the anticipation now killing me.

“Nah, nothing bad, sweetheart, I promise.”

“Okay. I can’t promise I won’t freak out but I’ll try not to.” I say, watching him intently as he leans before kneeling on the ground in front of me. “Cooper, what are you doing?” I laugh with a smile. “Get up, you’ll spill the wine!” 

He kneels with one leg up, the other against the floor.

“(y/n) (l/n).” He starts and I’m still confused by what he’s doing. “I don’t have a ring but I thought this was the perfect moment to ask, will you marry me?”

I stand up, hand over my mouth, entirely shocked as I look down at him smiling up at me.

“Cooper, this better not be a fucking joke.” I warn, tears collecting in my eyes as I look down at his serious yet smiling face.

“It’s not, darlin’ I promise. After seeing you with Janey today, dressed up as cowboys making her pasta I just knew you were the one for me. I only regret not getting you a ring and asking you sooner.” He grins.

I stand absolutely frozen, standing up in front of him as a tear goes down my cheek.

“Why would you propose to me while I’m dressed like a cowboy?” Is the first thing I say, slightly muffled by my hand and he just laughs.

“I had to.” He kneels before me, without a ring but with all the right words. “Will you marry me?”

“Yeah, yeah, Coop, of course.” I say, overwhelmed with emotions, happiness being the dominant one but tears still in my eyes. “Oh my god.” I say as he rises to his feet wrapping his arms around me as I wrap my arms around his neck, as close as we could possibly get. “I can’t believe you.” I mumble into his shoulder.

“I love you so so much and so does Janey, you’re just so perfect for me.” He says and I could swear I hear a voice crack.

“I love you too. I can’t believe you though. What am I gonna say when people ask what the proposal was like? That I was dressed like a cowboy?” 

“I think you’re worrying about the wrong things right now, sweetheart.” He chuckles.

“I know. I can’t even begin to process the fact we’re getting married.” I press a kiss to the side of his neck. “Oh my god, I love you. I love you. I love you.” I place a kiss for everytime I say ‘I love you’ and he just smiles, taking the kisses.

“I must be the happiest man in the world right now.” He says with a grin as wide as his face.

-

AN: I hope people aren't getting bored of Fallout fics because I am not.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

The journey to recovery begins now.

Heres the next part! ✌🏼

Let me know what you think? I have a lot of time on my hands currently unable to move much, so this is the result!

Credit to @alotofpockets for giving me the courage to continue to write!

Pairings: beth mead x teen reader, vivianne miedema x teen reader, arsenal wfc x teen reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

You never truly appreciated how much you took your knees for granted until it was too late, leaving you to confront the stark reality of their absence during the grueling weeks that followed after your surgery.

The initial stages of your rehabilitation post-surgery, each day felt like an uphill battle against the constraints of limited mobility. Every single step was a painful reminder of your body’s fragility, which left you teetering on the edge of frustration.

The simple tasks you once took for granted now felt like insurmountable challenges, even the thought of walking a few steps sent a wave of discomfort radiating through your knee, serving as a constant reminder of your newfound vulnerability.

Reflecting on the moment that led to this predicament, you can’t help but regret it as your knee injury could have been avoided. Perhaps if you had chosen a different path that fateful night, the outcome would have been drastically different.

“Where are you off to?” Viv’s concerned voice broke through your thoughts, she had virtually been watching over you like a hawk since your return from the hospital.

“I’m just going to the toilet” You muttered, struggling to get up from the sofa but you were just too stubborn to ask for any sort of help.

Vulnerability was something you’d never dealt well with, it was a trait that was deemed unacceptable in your previous harsh upbringing. Weakness was a luxury that you couldn’t afford, it was a lesson that had been ingrained in you from childhood.

You could practically hear the stern cold voice of your biological father as if he were standing directly behind you, whispering into your ear.

“Do you need a hand?” Beth’s offer was laced with genuine concern, finding it difficult to watch you struggle unwillingly.

“No” You snapped, the frustration bubbling to the surface; You hadn’t meant to be so horrible, it was just sometimes easier to revert back to a defensive coping mechanism that you had been conditioned to over the years as you grew up.

“Just know I’m here if you need me” Beth’s reassurance hung in the air, a lifeline amidst the uncertainty.

“Just shout for us if you need anything, okay?” Viv chipped in, reminding you as she watched you limp off in the direction of the bathroom, although there was a weight of worry lingering incase you somehow hurt yourself in there.

Beth noted her girlfriends’ vigilant gaze and softened her expression, “She’ll be alright, Viv. She’s only gone to the loo, remember?” she joked, amusedly.

“I know, I am just worried in case she aggravates her knee or something” Viv admitted her concern, anxiously biting her bottom lip, “She really needs to be cautious” she added.

“It’s okay to be worried, but we have to let her do things for herself” Beth replied, offering comfort to alleviate her girlfriend's anxiety about you, “If needs help then she’ll shout, remember?” she reminded her.

Viv folded her arms, still visibly worried for you as she tried to listen out in case there’s a sudden slip in the bathroom, “I just can’t help but feel anxious, Beth. What if she hurts herself in there?” she repeats her worries.

“I understand, liefje” Beth placed a comforting hand on Viv’s shoulder, “But we have to let her have some independence too. We can’t smother her with our concerns” she explained to the Dutch woman.

“You’re right, I just need to remind myself of that– I just hate that she is going through this. It’s not fair” Viv mumbled, shaking her head.

Beth gently took a hold of Viv’s hand and squeezed it, “It really isn’t fair, but we’re going to do all that we can to support her, every step of the way, no matter what” she declared.

Deep down, you knew your injury wasn’t anyone’s fault, yet your reflex was to just continuously push your loved ones away once more. 

Despite your attempts, it seemed futile, especially with surprise visits becoming a regular occurance.

Apparently, today was no exception.

Unable to start your rehab anytime soon, you found yourself wrapped up in self-pity on your bed, cocooned in blankets and lost in a Netflix TV show that you had zero interest in but since your remote has gone AWOL, it left you with no choice but watch it, but at least Myle was there for company.

“Y/N/N/! We’re here!” Kyra’s unmistakable voice cut through the air, announcing her arrival.

“Kyra, she might be asleep” Alessia’s voice followed through, a touch of caution in her tone.

“Well, she might not be” Kyra retorted, barging into your room with her usual typical energy to find you awake, “See, Less? Told you that she wouldn’t be asleep!” she grinned back at the blonde.

“Wouldn’t have much chance with the way you’re shouting” You mumbled, acknowledging both of their presence.

Alessia offered an apologetic smile, “Hey, Y/N/N. We just wanted to come and see how you’re doing” she explained.

“Oh, you know? I’m fantastic” You words are laced with sarcasm.

“Well, we brought snacks” The blonde attempted to lift your dampened mood, gesturing to the bag of the treats that they had brought you.

“Wonderful” You barely entertain the idea of the sugary treats as you keep your gaze fixed on the ceiling, disinterested.

“I can tell she’s definitely excited about that” Kyra mocked your enthusiasm, taking hold of the bag from Alessia’s hands.

Alessia shot Kyra a warning look before turning back to you, concern etched on her face, “Hey, Y/N/N, are you okay? Truthfully?” she questioned.

“Just fuckin’ peachy” You sighed dramatically, still refusing to meet their gazes, dismissing them with a wave, “How’d you guys get in, anyway?” you asked, changing the subject.

“Beth let us in before she left” Kyra explained, perching on the end of the bed.

“Oh” You mumbled in agreement.

“Someone’s feeling grumpy today” Kyra teased, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she started to delve through the bag and pull out a packet of sweets.

You snatched the packet away, tearing it open with unnecessary force, “Wouldn’t you  be if you couldn’t walk with out assistance?” The frustration was evident in your tone of voice.

Kyra raised her hands in mock surrender although the mischief still sparkled in her eyes, “Noted. I’ll steer clear of touchy subjects” she quipped, exchanging a glance with Alessia.

Undeterred, Alessia took a seat beside you, mindful of your injury, “I get it that you’re frustrated, Y/N/N” she said softly, attempting to connect with you.

You rolled your eyes with the irritation simmering, “Well, excuse me for not being in the mood for a pep talk” you remark, your tone sharp.

“Come on, lighten up, mate” Kyra interjected, reclining against the bed’s end with a playful grin.

Ignoring her, you continued to sulk, stuffing more sweets into your mouth  with unnecessary force, not in the mood for conversation.

Alessia sighed as her concern deepend, “I just… I thought maybe you could use someone to talk to. We know what you’re going through is difficult right now” she ventured cautiously.

“I don’t want to talk about it” You snapped, your frustration boiling over, “I just want to talk, that’s all I want. I want to be able to get out of this damn bed and feel normal again!”

“Well if you’re looking for a miracle, I think you’re in the wrong place” Kyra couldn’t resist a quip to wind you up.

“Kyra” Alessia’s reprimand was gentle but firm, signaling an end to the teasing.

A tense silence settled over your room, broken only by the sound of your frustrated sighs and the crinkle of the sweet packet that Kyra continued to help herself too.

“Listen, Y/N/N, we’re here for you, okay?” Alessia told you with a gentle voice, “Whatever you need, whether it's someone to talk to or just in silence together, we’re here” she stated, determinedly.

You met her gaze, your eyes reflecting a mix of frustration and gratitude, even if you were sometimes way too stubborn to admit it, “Thanks, Alessia” you muttered, the harshness of your voice starting to dull as you realised that it wasn’t any good to take your anger out on your team mates, who only wanted to help you.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Kyra leaned forward as her playful demeanour was replaced with genuine concern, “Seriously mate” she said, her voice uncharacteristically serious, “We hate seeing you like this. Is there anything we can do to help?” she asked.

You hesitated to answer, you were torn between your desire for independence and the comfort of having your friends by your side, “I don’t know” you admitted finally, your voice wavering slightly, “I just… I just hate feeling so helpless, you know?” 

Alessia reached out, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder as she gently pulled you into her embrace, “It’s okay to feel that way” she said softly, “But you’re not alone in this. We’ll all help you get through it together” she promised you.

For a moment, the weight of your injury felt a little lighter, the burden now shared amongst your friends who refused to let you face it alone.

“Thanks, Lessi. Thanks, Kyra” You mumbled, burying your head in her chest as you allowed yourself to lean on them for their support, knowing no matter how tough the road ahead might be, you wouldn’t have to walk in alone, “Could one of you please pass me the remote? I don’t know what I’m watchin’ but it’s so boring” you muttered, complaining which made the two of them laugh.

© scribblesofagoonerr