#this part in the show never ceases to hurt me

[nochepsicodelica]

You know how sometimes you think of a scenario but just its exact moment and beyond?? There's no clear background on how things got to that point, unless you want to think up that background or it's just that single scene and whatever rolls from it? Well my little spoof is about being pregnant with Toji's baby, but as someone he loves and isn't embarrassed to partake in pda with and just overall someone who he can't wait to come home to every day. Like, he's ready to do this with you.

If you thought Toji was protective of you when it was just you two, then you had no idea of what was to come with having the smallest bean in your stomach, his little cub growing in your womb. You felt a sense of relief when months passed and—through his actions—he continued to remind you that he was in love with going through the process of having a baby with you, but sometimes you would get so caught up with the things that carrying a child entailed, that it would slip your mind.

He catches you crying a lot and even though he knows that it's perfectly normal for your emotions to be all over the place, he still worries. So you can imagine his reaction to watching you waddle around the house while rubbing your belly, in tears. You're breaking his heart with the sound of your little hiccups and sniffing and it won't stop, so he takes your hand and pulls you along to sit on the couch with him.

"You okay, mama?" He asks, rubbing your belly.

You give him a shaky smile and take a breath before responding, pausing the stream of tears for a very brief moment. "Yeah, it's just... my back hurts... and we're hungry... and I feel-" you can't get through the sentence before you start sobbing again.

"You feel what, baby?" He asks, wiping away the fresh stream of tears.

You shake your head, unable to talk through these intense emotions. All he can do is wait and listen until you calm down. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them, affectionately, showing you that he has all the patience in the world for you. Your eyes remain downcast, but eventually the waterfalls running down your cheeks cease.

"You feel what?" He asks, again.

"Fat and ugly, and I don't wanna go to the bathroom because of the mirror. It'll make me feel worse."

He hums, acknowledging your words, despite how severely untrue they are. "Sorry, baby, don't cry, but i'm gonna have to disagree with you. I've never seen someone as pretty as you. It's part of the reason for why you have a baby in your belly."

"It's unfair. You don't look any different. You're still so handsome and... and..."

"Hey," he says, distracting you before you break down again. "You want me to gain some weight?"

You nod, twinkling eyes meeting his warm gaze. You scoff, your thoughts on the suggestion immediately shifting. "You'd still be fine as fuck with a few extra pounds on you."

He laughs, rubbing your belly once more before standing up and sitting behind you for better access to your back. "What do you guys wanna eat?"

- EnD sCeNe 🥀 -

No, but fr this was just casually rolling around in my brain like a dog rolling around in mud.

[aphrogeneias]

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞 — lingerie

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

warnings: dry humping. jealous!eddie (blink and you'll miss it).

"Are you gonna do that for me, one day?"

Standing at the back of the crowd while you watched a local band perform, you and Eddie shared a laugh watching what was going down on stage. The crowd whooped and hollered as a girl in the front row threw her red lace panties on stage. 

The frontman was sort of a heartthrob of the local underground metal scene, used to that sort of attention — but in your, not at all biased, opinion he had nothing on the guitarist of Corroded Coffin, the boy throwing his arm around your shoulder.

"In your dreams, pervert."

You rolled your eyes, but nothing in your tone suggested disgust. Quite the opposite, as Eddie smiled, all sharp teeth and soft dimples, the dichotomies of the Munson boy never ceasing to amuse you. He smacked a loud kiss to your cheek, and turned his attention back to the stage, still holding you to his side. You rested your head on his shoulder, and kept that scene in mind.

Later that month, Corroded Coffin played in that same venue.

They were over the moon about it, obsessing over details and rehearsals, showing up extra early for soundcheck, losing sleep over playing for a larger, unfamiliar crowd. Eddie, especially, was losing his mind on the day of, which in turn drove you crazy — the ever dutiful girlfriend of an emerging rockstar, playing your part in keeping his head in place.

You'd promised Eddie that if he got up there and not let his nerves get the best of him, you'd have a surprise ready for him.

The surprise couldn't wait for the end of the show, though.

You were right at the front row, where you usually stood even though Eddie always worried you would get hurt, or get accidentally dragged into a mosh pit, or hit by a crowdsurfer. None of those concerns were unfounded, but you wouldn't rather be anywhere else.

Not where you couldn't see him. Bare arms flexing while he shredded on his guitar, sweat flying off his damp hair as he headbanged, possessed with divine madness. Your own rock god, meeting your eyes and winking at you before entertaining the crowd who was just as mesmerized by his stage presence.

Looking around to see if you'd get caught, you found no one was really paying attention to you. Quickly, you bent down, and just as the song headed to an end, slid your panties down and out of your legs. You were wearing Eddie's favorite pair — dark green lace, leaving little to the imagination.

As soon as he looked at you, between songs, you threw them at him. He caught it in the air, wide eyes not quite believing what he's seeing — your eyes meet halfway, and all you did was smile. Sticky sweet, an offering of devotion. You blew him a kiss, and not looking back, made your way through the screaming crowd, away from the stage.

He caught you backstage, on his way to the dressing room.

You barely had time to greet him. Looking back at it, it was silly to think you'd have it. Eddie caught you by the arm and led you to the nearest empty room, pressing you against the closed door. The room was dark, but you could see his eyes glinting in the low light.

His hand grabbed your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. "Do you know how hard it is to hide a boner in these jeans?"

Despite the grip he had on you, you giggled. "Oh, I know. Been there a few times."

"You're the worst." He joked through his teeth, fondness shining through his dark eyes. He leaned in, biting your cheek, leaving a trail of spit with his tongue to soothe it. "I'm gonna fucking ruin you."

Eddie kissed you like a man starved, stealing your breath away. You clung to him as he slid his thigh between your open ones, thick denim coming in contact with your bare pussy. His large hands made their way down your waist, to your hips, his hungry kisses never faltering.

Moans leave your lips right into his, making a wet mess on his pants, arching your chest into his whilst his rhythm didn't relent, the drag of your clit on the rough fabric, over and over, bringing you to the edge way too quickly.

He nosed your cheek as you clinged to his shoulders, moving his mouth to ear. "They were all looking at you, you know?" Eddie's voice was thick with desire, "They were all staring at my baby. The most beautiful girl in this fucking place, and she had such a sweet little gift for me." His leg moved under you, and you undulated your hips, seeking your release, guided by his voice, "All for me, because you're mine. It's me you're going home with, aren't you, sweetheart?"

You nodded frantically. "Mhm. With you, baby. Always you."

Your toes curled on the floor, and your body tensed all over. You could feel yourself make a mess on his jeans, leaking more and more as you reached your peak.

"Yeah, that's right. Come for me, baby. Fucking drench me."

Eddie kissed your forehead, the top of your hair, the side of your face, as you came down from your orgasm. As you caught your breath, learning against the door, he let go of you. You didn't have the strenght to ask, all you could do was watch him kneel before you, and take your panties out of his back pocket.

He delicately helped you back in them, one leg at a time. After securing them in place, he placed a kiss on each of your still trembling thighs, and lifted himself back to his full height again.

"Keep these wet for me, okay?" A kiss to your chin, a thumb on your cheek. "Want them to keep smelling like you."

[mondaymelon]

— "𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂...𝗰𝗿𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴?" ♥

:feat~ xiao, kazuha, scaramouche x gn!reader: 

⤷ slight angst + comfort n fluff (oops i made kazuha’s part abnormally long) ⤷ They make you cry.

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open!) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis

At first, XIAO doesn’t understand that his words have cut you. 

He was always one with a blunt, yet sharp tongue, never afraid to speak his mind or to criticize your actions on the slightest whim. After all, why should he be hesitant? His power is common knowledge - as an illuminated adepti, there’s few who can rival his dexterity.

But he never expected his words to hurt you. Xiao has never fully understood human emotion. He’s always isolated himself from the foreign concept, determined to separate him and such… frivolities. Emotions are for mortals, and he is not one of man. In his manner of thinking, he’s just helping you improve yourself, so why are you…

“Archons, Xiao. It’s always about my mistakes. My mistakes, over and over and…” Then your wavering voice cuts off as you swallow, hard. What did he do wrong? Why were you acting this way?

That’s when the aloof yaksha notices the crystal teardrops spilling from your eyes, running down your cheeks and staining the skin it trails. The slight hitch in your shallowed breath and the way you stray from his touch, trembling, anxiously wiping at your tears.

“...Love?” He isn’t accustomed to seeing you like this, avoidant of his gaze and so… vulnerable. “Wait, please-”

“Archons, love. Please, look at me.” Xiao takes your wrist in his gloved hand, his grasp cautious yet firm. His voice is pleading, quiet, strained with desperation.

“No, I… I didn’t mean to hurt you.” His voice shakes as he tries to meet your eye.

“Love, you are perfect. I never meant to say otherwise.” Please, believe me.

“I’m sorry. So please…” He detests the way he’s acting, heart racing so shamefully, yet still embraces you tightly, skin cold to the touch.

“Stay by my side.” ♥

KAZUHA’s eloquent wording is one that never ceases to amaze, so it’s only a twinge of misfortune that causes a misunderstanding to form.

As a poet, the way he speaks is quite ornate, a manner in which people may not comprehend. However, that’s never exactly been a problem when it comes to the communication of the two of you. You understand Kazuha, and that translates to his speech as well, so in a way, it’s only natural.

Yet…

“The show was incredible, wasn’t it?” You take Kazuha’s hand, and follow his gentle tug on yours as he leads you out of the crowd, smiling back at you. The white haired male, being the traveler he was, decided to take you for a night out in Liyue Harbor, where the two of you first ate a fine dinner, and just finished viewing a performance from the Liyue Theatre. Your heart still raced from the night’s breathtaking sights and wonders.

“Indeed it was.” He closes his eyes, a sign that he’s content, and you can’t help but widen your grin. “The main casting role, the lady with the flowing dress, was exceptionally talented. Just from the way she glided about the stage… you can tell she’s experienced, and blessed with bountiful potential.”

You nod along, albeit a little awkwardly. There’s nothing out of the ordinary for the two of you to discuss such topics, but for some reason, the way he’s speaking about her just makes your insides want to crawl.

He’s still droning on, eyes sparkling. “...Then, at the final scene, when she began to sing… say, Love, why don’t you try theater? It might suit you well. Maybe one day you’d be on a stage, just like her.”

What the male meant was: try theater out, you’d do well.

But what you heard, instead, was: you should do theater too. then you could be as brilliant as her.

You hated the way it felt like he was comparing the two of you, weighing which one held more worth.

“I know! We’ll be staying here for a while, so why don’t I sign you up for…” His voice trails off as he lets go of your hand, aware of the tears that are starting to form in your wells. “Love, what… what’s wrong?”

“Kazuha… please, stop.”

“...What?” He seems genuinely clueless, but clasps but your hands in his, a worried gaze written all over his face. “No, I…”

“Please stop comparing me to her. I already know I don’t deserve you… it’s just…” Fuck, now you really couldn’t stop the way the droplets started rolling down your cheeks, stray tears falling from your eyes and splattering onto the wooden planks below. All of your discomfort seemed to infuse themselves into the shameful adrenaline that was coursing through your veins, because you had worried if you weren’t good enough for Kazuha. Someone as lackluster as yourself, going out with a handsome young swordsman, intelligent, kind… he was loved by many, and you…

“...Love, please!” 

When did he get so close? He’s leaned in, concerned, crimson-eyed gaze trained onto your every movement. “What are you even thinking about, to be breathing so heavily… no, c’mon love, look at me.” And when you do, eyes meeting his, his mouth morphs into a somewhat smile. “There must’ve been a misunderstanding.”

“Because you are most certainly superior to any other person in Teyvat.”

“And of all people, you…”

“I am the one not worthy of your love, so don’t ever say that again.”  ♥

SCARAMOUCHE doesn’t care at all, why should he?

He said some stuff that you took too close to heart, so what? If he hurt you, why should he fret over it? You’re strong enough to take it. All he said was one or two harsh words that merely came to mind, so there’s no need for you to be all wounded over it, either.

“Yeah, you’re pathetic.” Scaramouche scoffs at you, one hand on his waist while the free one makes sarcastic motions in the air. “You can’t even get one thing right, can you?”

The “thing” in question, in fact, was making Scaramouche dinner. You added a pinch too much salt, and now the male seemed to act like you’d committed a grave offense upon humanity… but then again, he was always dramatic, so this time shouldn’t be any different, right?

“I… I tried my best…” Your voice trails off as you cringe under his undermining glare.

“Clearly, your ‘best’ wasn’t enough.” His jeering tone is enough to make your heart shatter as you glance up at him, eyes wide. You don’t realize you’ve begun crying until you feel the sensation of tears spilling down your cheeks, falling from your eyes with silent melancholy as you seem to choke on your own words.

“Why are you… why are you crying?” You’re scared to look up at him, whatever expression he’s making, so you keep your head down, pitifully wiping your tears away.

“I’m not.”

“Sure you aren’t.” His voice is airy as he rolls his eyes, frowning at you. What, now you get to act all disheartened? What did he even do to upset you?

“I’m not crying.”

“C’mon, Kuni. It’s okay to say if you’re sad. Here, cheer up, and I’ll give you this flower, okay?”

A voice echoed in his head.

“...Huh?”

And it’s strange, really, how the sight before him mirrors one from long before. The way your eyes hold so much sorrowful desperation, the way you seem so broken inside, and most of all, the way the tears that run down your face seem achingly familiar.

“Shit.” His voice seems small, too small. “Wait, love, I-” His voice cuts off as he sighs, unsure of what to say. The beating of his anxious heart overpowers all noise.

“Love, I was… joking. I don’t mean any of it.”

“You being here is a blessing of itself.”

“Archons, please know how much I love you.” ♥

(a/n) i accidentally made xiao's part the shortest i am a disgrace to humanity

[missswritesalot]

Can i request some possessive, maybe even a little mean, Robb Stark nsfw? i need that man in a way that borders on obsession 😭

A/N hope you like it anon. Gets soft at the end. Will edit later for historical accuracy. Requests open.

"Your grace," you began nervously as your husband threw open your bedchamber door. Opening it was hard enough so thinking of the force it took to rattle the hinges made you wince. Perhaps you could finally see the King Robb that maidens swooned for and bards sang of.

"Like a dog? A beast? Numbskulled brute? Is that what you said?" He spat out. His anger, so hard to provoke but equally hard to quell. Now it was righteous too.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” you nervously said. “I only wished to entertain.”

Robb walked towards you and you took a step back. You were vulnerable, only wearing your shift.

“And what did you call yourself? Little more than a whore I paid two coppers for? A greedy little queen, at the mercy of the king?” Robb said. “I can’t even repeat what I heard. Yet you said it when I have done nothing but treat you gently with kindness.”

“It was only my ladies, and I didn’t wish to disappoint, husband.” You said. You placed your hand gently on his chest. “They dream of you, and I couldn’t appear jealous. I needed to show you didn’t lack passion in bed.”

“Wasn’t just the ladies. My men heard you recount your pleasure and now they’re the ones salivating.” He shouted.

“Cease this! It’s childish and I will speak as I wish.” You said, feigning annoyance.

Robb looked madder with each word out of your mouth. He gripped your wrists to the point of pain and spun you around. With a hand on your back, he pushed you face down onto the furs.

"You talk like a whore you get taken like one."

He pushed your chemise up and you felt his fingers find the most sensitive parts of you. He shoved two in roughly, making you scream. Thank the old gods, your plan worked better than expected.

“And what of my men guarding you? Did they have to hear your of escapades? Know how you enjoy in my chamber?” Robb demanded.

The twist of his fingers in your unprepared cunt made tears spring to your eyes.

“Who do you belong to?” He asked. You refused to reply. You shook your head.

“You’re mine, you hear me?” Robb yelled. He slapped your arse to make his point. No need to trigger him even more, you decided. “Who owns ye?” He asked again.

“You do,” you mumbled.

“And I am your King, and your husband. And you had better remember that.”

“Yes, husband.” You whispered. You heard the sounds of him undressing. You didn’t dare move.

Robb held your hips on either side of you and pushed you into the bed.

“Who’ll take you now?” He demanded.

“You, my lord and husband.” You replied submissive. His breathing behind you told you he was still furious.

His hands tightened around your hips and you felt the impossible thickness of his member at your entrance. He'd taken you before, he was your goddamn husband, but never in anger and never like this.

He began to push in, deaf to your cries.

"Robb," you pleaded, your will breaking. He was deep in you but not to the hilt yet. This new position was physically uncomfortable adding to your humiliation. "Please, please." You begged. You didn't know what you were asking for, for him to let you go or for a moment to adjust. But you were so hot you could barely see. You had never felt desire like this. You anticipated your release like Robb returning home.

"No," he said quietly. "You will accept this, wife." He sheathed himself to the hilt within your body. You were glad he'd let go of your arms, so you could twist your fingers into the furs on your bed.

He was deeper than before in this new position, you felt like you were being split open. You reminded yourself you were trying for this reaction. Some part of your heart hurt most of all, knowing that your husband didn't care about the pain he inflicted upon your body. He was mean.

He pulled out again and pushed back in slowly. The deep pleasure knocked the breath out of your lungs. It added to everything you felt from the stretch of his girth.

Your cries grew louder due to pleasure, and you were screaming in abandon at how good he made you feel.

“More, husband, Robb, please.” You begged incoherently. The snap of his hips against yours set a harsh pace.

He tried to stop, to tease you, but he couldn’t. He was too excited looking at your body beneath him.

It didn’t take long before you were clenched around his cock in your pleasure, and he spent in response to you.

Robb collapsed atop you. He rolled over to the side, breathing heavily. You took a moment to calm yourself down and turned to face him. You took his hand in yours carefully, you wanted to know if his anger had been quelled yet. You were pleased when he brought your hand to his lips to kiss it.

“I love you,” he said. “And I have no desire to share you. Not this. Not our time together when we get so little.” Robb confessed. Your heart broke for him. Perhaps you’d gone too far in seeking his passion.

His face grew tense as you didn’t reply. “Have I hurt you, love?” He asked, caressing your cheek. You leaned into his touch with a sigh.

“No, dear husband. I love you too,” you said softly, content.

[nejiverse]

NASTY WOUNDS PT. 2

Aventurine, Boothill, Wriothesley, Neuvillette

part 1

In which you tend to their injuries and pamper them. Fem! Reader

cw: none

1256 words

"Wipe that smirk off your face Aventurine", Y/n grumbled, patching the wound on his cheek. "It's like you're getting yourself hurt on purpose these days".

Aventurine chuckled, wincing slightly as merely laughing made his injury throb. With his hands at his sides, slightly behind him, he leaned his weight on them and shrugged his shoulders. "Trouble just seems to have a knack for finding me".

She rolled her eyes, her hands moving deftly to clean and bandage his latest injury. "Or you just have a knack for finding trouble". She shook her head in disapproval, a frown etched on her lips. "You're not making it easy for me y'know".

"Well, I do appreciate the attention," he teased, his eyes glinting mischievously. "You have a gentle touch."

Purposefully, she smacked the bandage onto his cheek, earning a string of childish groans from Aventurine. "Flattery won't get you out of this lecture i'm afraid", Y/n feigned an expression of sympathy. "You have to be more careful Aven", she said in a softer and more serious tone.

He sighed dramatically, placing a hand over his heart. "Alright, alright. I promise to be more careful. But, tell you what..", Aventurine pulled a coin out of his pocket and rolled it across his knuckles. "Guess right and you get a prize. Heads or tails?".

Y/n folded her arms and raised a brow quizzically. "What are you up to...".

"Pick a side and find out".

With caution, the woman picked heads.

Aventurine flipped the coin high into the air, both of them watching as it spun and glinted under the light before landing in his palm. He uncovered it with a flourish. "Heads it is," he declared, showing her the result.

A triumphant smile spread across Y/n's face. "Looks like I win."

He laughed, tucking the coin back into his pocket. "You certainly do. And as your reward..." Aventurine reached into his jacket and pulled out a single, delicate flower, offering it to her with a sincere smile. "For my favorite healer. A token of my appreciation."

Y/n couldn't help the smile reappearing on her lips. "Is this really a thank you gift or your way of getting me to shut up?", she giggled.

"That's for me to know and you to never find out", he gestured her to come closer and wrapped an arm around her waist, looking up at the woman with nothing short of admiration.

"See you tonight?".

"Boothill...I can obviously tell you're hiding your arm behind your back cause clearly there is no arm attached to your right shoulder", Y/n placed a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes at the man.

Boothill clicked his tongue, revealing his quite literally dislocated arm. "Darn, an' I thought I was being pretty discreet".

Y/n approached him, patting his good shoulder. "Not in this lifetime I fear". She took the arm from him and opted to get some tools out, Boothill following close behind her. "It's not like I mind fixing you up, it's just..what if D/n sees—", speak of the devil.

The two were met with the shocked face of their daughter as Y/n quickly hid the arm behind her back, a poor attempt to stop the waterworks from beginning.

"I really wasn't discreet huh", a lazy grin made it to Boothill's face.

D/n's bottom lip was jutted out and tears prickled her eyes causing Y/n to panic and search for a screwdriver.

"It's okay baby, look!", the woman hurriedly attached Boothill's arm back on, the screwdriver almost falling out of her grip a few times.

"Good as new, see?", patting his arm for good measure.

Boothill helped appease the situation by flashing his pointy teeth a flexing his fingers.

"Ya don't gotta worry about me princess, you've got the strongest papa in the universe", he scooped his little girl into his arms, d/n wiping her tears with the back of her hand and her endearing sniffles ceasing.

"Where's yer smile gone, huh?", he cooed as he playfully tickled the toddler who erupted into a fit of giggles.

Suddenly, Boothill's arm fell off again, ruining the entire mood. He let out a sigh of relief that it wasn't the hand he was using to hold his daughter.

Y/n ran a hand down her face. "Dammit".

"You don't have to do this y'know, I'm used to it", Wriothesley voiced to the woman who had a worried expression etched onto her face.

"I want to though, you make me worry", the ravenette watched her carefully tend to his wounds, her gentle hands moving with practiced precision as she wrapped bandages around his bicep.

"Hey, at least I won".

Y/n gave him an unimpressed look, not caring about whether he was victorious or not. Wriothesley pursed his lips.

"Winning won't matter if you're dead".

Wriothesley laughed under his breath. "You're so dramatic". Y/n put away the bandages while Wriothesley gave his limbs a much needed stretch after being forced to sit down for what felt like multiple hours. "A few cuts and a busted lip won't be enough to take me out".

He came up behind her, hands on her waist and placed a kiss on her lips, one that lasted much longer than he intended.

"They still work don't they?".

Y/n punched his shoulder. "Those weren't just a 'few cuts' Wrio!", she responded, completely ignoring his question.

"Mhm..", he mumbled as he went in for another kiss before he felt Y/n's hand blocking him from doing so.

"Sorry but I don't like kissing people with busted lips", she teased.

Wriothesley frowned coyly. "I guess i'll just have to heal quickly. But in the meantime..", he leaned in closer and moved her hand down to her side, interlocking their fingers. "Maybe you can give me a kiss somewhere else?".

"Why would I wanna do that?".

"Well they say it helps for a speedy recovery".

"Is that so?", she retorted, a hand on his left cheek and placing a kiss on his right.

"Yup. I feel better already".

"No more apologising alright Chief Justice?", Y/n spoke softly, eyes focused on the last of the stitches she was applying to Neuvillette’s hand.

"Understood, forgive me for burdening you".

Y/n squeezed his hand before relaxing her grip again. "Hey what did I just say?", she scolded lightly. "Besides, you're not burdening me, if you're always looking out for others like this then who looks after you?", as she posed the question, a look of worry was evident on her face.

A faint drizzle began outside, the light pitter-patter of raindrops against the windows a clear sign of his emotions.

Without another word, Y/n wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. Neuvillette stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. His formal posture relaxed gradually as he allowed himself to sink into the warmth of her embrace.

When last was he enveloped by such warmth? He wasn’t sure. But what he was sure of was that if it were possible, he would remain just like this, in her arms, for eternity.

“I’d like to be that person, if you’d let me”, she uttered sincerely.

Neuvillette’s heart swelled with feelings that were foreign to him. Maybe he wasn’t as familiar with human emotions as he thought he was. Still, whatever it was, it felt comforting and reassuring.

“I would be honoured, more than you can imagine”.

Masterlist

[astrophileous]

Hmmmmm for Hotch maybe him lowkey coddling reader when she gets hurt shortly during a case shortly after they start dating? Maybe the team wasn’t aware until they saw him fret this much when he had never done it to this level in the past? 🥹

Thanks for the request babes!! My first Aaron fic ever, so hopefully it's not too bad for a first 🥺 I hope this is to your liking ❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, established relationship, talks of traffic accident, mentions of injuries, protective hotch, mean words (hotch is just worried abt you ok??)

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

You heard him before you even laid eyes upon him.

Amidst the beeping machines and the moderate ruckus of the emergency room, Aaron's voice penetrated the air like a sword. The authority dripped like lava from his tone as he badgered Derek for your whereabouts, and before you could shuffle out of the hospital bed that had been your safe haven for the past hour, the cubical curtain surrounding you was suddenly yanked open.

Your movements ceased once you locked eyes with a frowning Aaron Hotchner.

"Hey—"

"Are you insane?"

You looked at him dumbfoundedly.

"Do you have a death wish? Is that it? Or are you just stupid?"

A few feet behind him, you could see Derek and Emily exchanging silent looks between the two of them. Everyone knew that Aaron was notorious for being frigid, and he had a strong impartiality when it came to any of his team members doing something impetuous on the field, but the words seeping out of Aaron's mouth at that moment sounded overtly harsh to those who knew him.

"Hotch—" Derek took a step forward, trying to come to your defense, "—it's not (Y/N)'s fault."

"I'm not talking to you." Aaron's response was cutting and final. It baffled Derek enough for him to trace his step back.

"What's wrong with you?" you asked once the shock dissipated, returning your voice to its rightful owner once more. "Why are you being like this?"

"Me? You're asking me? I should be the one asking you."

Your eyebrows pulled together in confusion. "We were chasing the UnSub—"

"You went rogue," he cut you off. "Morgan told me everything. There's no point in denying it."

Derek raised his arms in surrender when your stare of betrayal slid his way. "Fine. I'm sorry I grabbed a random civilian's bike and crashed it against the UnSub's car. You don't have to worry about paying anything back, I'll figure something out."

"Is that what you think this is about?" Aaron pinched the bridge of his nose. "I could care less about monetary compensations. We can deal with that later. You could've been killed, don't you understand?"

It was his last admission that finally made the pieces in your head click into place. Beneath the anger inside Aaron's words was actually a hidden anxiety ready to break free. He was worried about you, even if he was showing it in the least hospitable way possible.

Your relationship with Aaron was young; green around the edges and blooming every single day like tulips in spring. Nobody else in the world knew about it yet, and the two of you wanted to keep it that way. At least, that was what you agreed upon after having that lengthy discussion following your first official date.

And yet, none of that mattered when your fingers opted to reach out for Aaron's hand. You pretended not to notice the gasp that Emily let out as you urged your boyfriend to look into your eyes.

"I know you're worried, but I'm fine. I'm right here with you, and I'm okay." Aaron's shoulders physically collapsed at your reassurance. Every other noise in the hospital seemed to drown out in the aftermath. "The doctor's gonna clear me in no time, trust me."

"It still doesn't erase the fact that what you did was reckless." Aaron stepped closer towards the bed, overcrowding your senses as his thumb swept over your left eyebrow, just below the wound you had obtained from the crash. "Does it hurt?"

You shook your head no. The injury to your head was relatively minor. Your arm, on the other hand, was sustaining a quite sizable gash from your collision with the car.

Aaron's eyes followed your gaze that had meandered towards the gauze covering your arm. "How many stitches?"

Reluctantly, you answered, "Seven."

You heard his sharp breath before he turned around to face Derek. "Where's the UnSub now?"

Derek jerked his head to the right, where you reckoned the UnSub was being treated for their own injuries from the crash. The words of protest died in your throat as Aaron began to saunter to the other end of the ER with Derek hot on his heels.

With the two men's departure, Emily was the only one who remained.

"So—" she smiled knowingly, leaning against the foot of your bed, "—you and Hotch? When did that happen?"

You slammed your head back on the pillow, muffling your groan with your uninjured arm. "Shut up."

[wroteclassicaly]

A/N: Uh… I might do a part two to this? But it randomly came to me and I wanna try something different.

Warnings: Language, hurt, angst, unrequited/one sided feelings, sadness, anxiety, mentions panic, body issues, and mentions self-esteem problems.

You’re hunched over the counter, skin taunt over your knuckles, bones sharp enough to shred through. A hot, sticky wetness resides in your lungs, the pain of its steam burning in your throat, settling over your lungs. You cannot see through the haze of blurred vision, half-assed attempts to wipe copious amounts of moisture going nowhere. Only when a heavier set of footfalls fall outside of the door and it’s yanked open — you finally cease some panic. Your manager, in all his greasy glory, clings to the doorframe, looking into the storage closet to make sure that you’re alone.

Obviously, because who would go in here with me? Steve never fucking will. He’s probably had other girls in here…

Keith is speaking, sounding like his voice is somewhere above the surface of murky waters. But you make it out. “Hey, uh. I heard what happened with Harrington back there. Let me take you out, show you how a real man can treat a lady?”

If Keith wasn’t so disgusting towards the female population, you’d feel bad for him, but to sink yourself as low as to only get an offer from him? And right after HE saw you get rejected by your best-friend?

Nip it in the butt before it continues. You have to work here, after all…

“No, thanks, Keith. But I appreciate it.” You force a smile so fake that it burns the corners of your mouth.

He snorts, shaking his head. “Fine, but know that if Harrington side stepped you, you shouldn’t be so stingy with standards.” The comment stings, pricks your heart, tearing it apart to bleed out. “I’ll be in my office if you change your mind, sweets.”

One nasty wink later, and he’s back in his office and you’re out the door. This is all too much. You have to go. It’s break time, you thank fuck for, glancing at the clock, but you can barely think, your head pulsating with a pressing pound between your eyes. You punch out for lunch, gathering your purse, and you’re coming out as Robin is talking rapidly to Steve, seemingly scolding him at the front desk.

She’s come in for her shift. They stop immediately, features softening, too observant for your liking. You do what you do best — change the subject. Steve isn’t going to care anyways, so you might as well say it. It’ll help you get outside quicker.

“I have a fucking headache, I’m hungry, and Keith just hit on me, so I’m taking my break.” You blow out a wobbly breath.

It’s also Steve’s break, and he starts to remove his vest. Is he serious? You are so beyond outer limits right now… Granted, you take your breaks together every single day, but after everything that just happened in the past hour?

Steve’s jaw clenches and his body tenses at what you tell them, pausing his removal mid-way, inclining his head to look back in the manager’s office direction. Robin looks mad, tongue clicking as she looks over at Steve and shakes her head. You let them go, about halfway to the door before the bell rings and the beautiful girl that Steve’s been after forever to get a date with — approaches. She’s looking extra special, all dolled up. Sundress, heels, makeup, bracelets, a dainty necklace on her perfect shape.

It’s things you know Steve loves, because it’s also what you’re wearing. It made you feel good, but it was out of your element, yet you’d thought his hints, his behavior with you — Robin and Nancy had encouraged that those things were MAJOR signs. The girl goes straight for Steve, reaching for his massive hand. You’re frozen, having been waiting on him, despite all of your instincts telling you not to. Robin is looking at you with sympathy, something you’d rather never see directed your way again.

The girl, she’s acting as if it’s just her and Steve here. “I know you said this is your lunch hour. Looks I’m free if you still wanna hang out?” She swings her purse in her free hand. He’s been after her for a while — for sex or emotional connection, you aren’t sure. But what you do know, is that doesn’t want you at all.

And you can’t fault him, no one can. As his friends, you should worry about his happiness and dry yourself up, not making him feel guilty for not returning what you have felt for a while. That doesn’t mean that this isn’t pulverizing your heart, dusting your bones to ash, dashing all hopes and future fantasies, telling yourself he did like you, letting yourself believe — it does not hurt any less. It hurts more than you can bear. You feel his mossy eyes filter into your direction, meeting over her head, his nose wrinkling, that tick in his jaw that occurs when he wants so badly to speak, but can’t.

You’re caught in the moments that happened before any of this… Body on fire, doused in flames, tumbling down a cliff side of revelations. You weren’t even sure if reality existed, or if you were feeling too much of every emotion to comprehend anything.

“I really like you, Steve. And I think that, maybe, you like me too?”

“I do.”

“Yeah?”

“More than anyone, probably.”

“Me too.”

“But I don’t… We’re really close, honey.”

“That’s a good thing though, obviously. Right?”

“It’s always gonna be a good thing, trust me. I’ve never had someone in my life like you before.”

“Sooo. What about tonight?”

“I’m so sorry. Any guy would be lucky to have you. And I care about you, more than anyone, but I just… I don’t feel the same way.”

Drowning in an ocean of pity and panic. You’re back to present, watching him see those moments through your eyes, which have now glossed over with tears. He’s trying to be respectful, not accept her in front of you, keep things okay, show he won’t make it weird because of your confession. Normal. Keeping his lunch date with you.

You don’t fake your smile, hand on the door, nodding several times. He doesn’t have to feel guilty, he doesn’t have to sacrifice his happiness. You love him, even if he isn’t in love with you. And that’s all that matters. He deserves this.

When Steve glances down towards the door and back up, the bell is fading against the glass, but you’re gone...

Your sundress blows in the wind of a fresh summer storm as you leave the store behind to walk to the deli, your tears cresting, before rising in a tempo that you don’t control. Your chest feels as if there’s a thousand pounds crushing you, every negative self-image colliding, thoughts flowing free, self-loathing — it all lets loose. And before you know it, you’re sobbing in the middle of the street over Steve Harrington…

[shadowqueenjude]

The most disturbing things portrayed in ACOTAR

Victim-blaming: Lucien tries to help Feyre and gets physically abused by Tamlin as a result. Feyre then proceeds to call him a dog despite Lucien doing everything he could in a difficult situation. And we're supposed to...support Feyre on this? And Rhysand throws around words like "can never forgive" man stfu you prick.

Sexual Assault: The most disturbing thing is not that Rhysand sexually assaulted Feyre. It's that he's never held accountable for this and never even apologizes at ANY point in the series. There are so many examples but this is the one that is the most disturbing.

Double Standards: We have Tamlin locking Feyre up for her own good being vilified, yet Rhysand is championed for locking Lucien and Nesta up in houses for their own good. Huh? WTF.

War Crimes: What Feyre did to the Spring Court, manipulating the sentries with the whole Ianthe thing and basically getting them killed, then weakening the Spring Court rulership which resulted in all those villagers in the Spring Court getting killed, then laying the Summer Court bare to Hybern as well, are nothing short of war crimes. And...instead of feeling regret, we have the main characters saying "Hybern's actions are their own." Like bitch what? Hybern wouldn't have been able to do shit if it wasn't for you! Have some damn accountability! And the fact that Tamlin and Tarquin are vilified for this never ceases to irk me.

Grooming: Rhysand groomed Feyre. He made excuses for everything he did with trauma, then sent Feyre out to do tasks for him like she's some kind of weapon he can use. WITHOUT giving her proper information, there is no choice. And everything he does is constantly explained away, until eventually Feyre becomes his trophy wife. Rhysand basically assigns Cassian to do the same for Nesta. I'm holding out hope that Elain will be saved from the Night Court.

The pregnancy debacle: the whole thing with the baby having wings and Rhysand withholding information from Feyre is just...disturbing. Idc if you're not telling her FoR hEr OwN gOoD, it is HER life at stake and she deserves to know. They didn't even try to shapeshift her to try and save her life? Like why is everybody seemingly more concerned about the baby than the mother? Disgusting. And why is Nesta vilified for being the only one to tell Feyre? She said it to hurt her, blah blah blah. She also wanted to show Feyre that their situations are similar. That they're BOTH being shit on by the Night Court. And when she's close to a breaking point...Nesta is forced to hike a mountain? That is physical abuse. Also, Rhysand being extremely territorial putting a shield over her and barely letting Feyre go anywhere is beyond weird.

Suicide baiting: What Rhysand did to Tamlin in ACOFAS is nothing short of suicide baiting. And...only Lucien seems to really be that concerned about it? Like...are you telling me I'm supposed to be supporting Rhysand after he basically told a depressed male to kill himself?

Segregation: Separating the Hewn City from Velaris IS segregation, no matter what excuse you try to come up with. You can't claim they're all shitty people, since your bestie Mor comes from the CoN. So, there are good people stuck in the CoN unable to get out of their torment because Rhysand decided that only certain individuals are allowed in Velaris.

Performance Feminism: Establishing laws to help women and not doing shit to enforce them is performance feminism. If he's as powerful as he says, he can 100% stop wing-cutting and r*pe. But, he's a goddamn virtue signaler so he doesn't fucking care. The thing is, SJM could've handled these topics in a much better way and it would've been fine. But she completely fucked shit up here and it's crazy that some people don't see it. Part of me is still waiting for the final book where she says, psych rhysand was the villain the whole time. If so, I'll take everything back.

[weskie]

Earned (Albert Wesker x gn!Reader)

no warnings, wesker lives au, extremely loose followup to this, wesker receiving affection, i think he deserves it, if that's wrong i don't wanna be right | Fic Directory

Sometimes you can see through the cracks of his cold, unbothered demeanor.

There’s something… fragile under all of it.  Buried beneath decades of shielding himself from the worst this world had to offer, from dealings with the dregs of humanity and a life manufactured and directed without his knowledge.

You remember how volatile Wesker had been after discovering the truth from Spencer.  The cracks you peer through now had been wedged clear open back then.  Salt dumped into the not-so-metaphorical wound.  You found him in a fit of rage when he finally came home, destroying his entire office just to cope in the only way he could think of.  Splinters of debris gave way under your footsteps and he glared daggers at you, daring you to come closer, daring you to cross the fray into the eye of the storm.

His reluctance to let you touch him weaned with every passing second that you smoothed your thumbs over his cheeks.  It was startling to see his typically calm exterior eroded so completely. You’d never seen him so… shattered.  It wasn’t until later that you’d understand that the foundation of his entire life had been swept out from under his feet. But, even then, you had an inkling that something had truly shaken him to his core.

“Who am I?”  

You’ll never forget the flare of amber glowing brighter in his eyes as each word fell from his lips over and over, nor the bruising grip he had on your arms, until he hid his face in the crook of your neck– secretly so desperate to hide from the haunting revelations of his life.

And you don’t forget it now as you run your fingers through his hair, cradling his head on your lap while he rests.  His recovery had been long and arduous, and it had humbled him more than anything possibly could have.  His dependence upon you had been a nearly insurmountable sore spot, but you wager it taught him a truth so incredibly foreign to his perception of the world.

Vulnerability can be okay.

At least it can be with you.  You’re not out here to stab him in the back or raw deal him for a larger cut in some grand scheme.  You’re not a multi-billion dollar pharmaceutical company pulling his strings nor the corpse that once orchestrated the entire marionette show.

You’re someone who loves him– adores him. 

It’s taken him a very long time to truly believe that, much less accept it.  You will forever be his greatest weakness and strength, all rolled into one.  You are leverage for anyone who wants to truly hurt him, but you are also the ferocity with which he will unmake them for even considering it.  

Worse yet? 

You are the only reason he’s glad to have not perished in that volcano.  Wesker remembers only flashes of his dreams while cocooned in Uroboros, but he knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he dreamt of you.  That it was your voice that pulled him through, your presence that he reached out to in his near comatose state. It was you who he sought after waking, despite how his body screamed to cease his movements.

So maybe…

Maybe it isn’t so wrong to let those cracks open up when he’s with you.  Maybe you should see the parts of him locked away from the world.  You should know the little boy thrown into the best boarding schools money could buy, the one who wondered if he had parents like the others did, who sought academic excellence so that he’d have even a fraction of the love he’s seen bestowed upon others by right of birth to those who could love them– to the man he is now, stripped of his pride and still always left to wonder what his true name had been.

Long ago, he asked you a question under much different circumstances.  Have you earned me, he’d said.  As he peeks through his farce of sleeping to take in the sight of you looking at him with endless love, only one thought lingers in his mind.

You have.

[dearsnow]

MANIC MOVES & DROWSY DREAMS (3)

- after discovering something that forces all of your relationship’s problems to the surface, you seek solace in your only potential friend in san diego. (bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fem!reader, hurt with future comfort, part of the series “out of touch” ⚠️ ADULT TOPICS, please be 18+ to read)

OUT OF TOUCH: It’s been twenty years since you last saw Bradley Bradshaw, and, suddenly, you realize he’s finally grown up.

word count: 3,110

a/n - this chapter is lowkey crazy 😭 i hope y’all enjoy because i’ve had a blast writing this. the next chapter might take a bit to write up because i need to plan out the rest of the series, but it hopefully shouldn’t take tooo long!!

The next few days were relatively uneventful as you attempted to get your life in perfect working order. There were a few visits from the navy men, with Fanboy (who you learned was actually named Mickey) being one of your best customers until he witnessed firsthand your boyfriend giving you flowers and a peck on the cheek. He seemed a bit crestfallen after that, but you knew he would perk up eventually. He hadn’t gone through it for nothing, though- you always slipped him an extra cookie sample when he came by.

The best part of your life was not interviewing potential employees or ordering more vintage tables, but instead, it was Derick. He was truly your rock in the midst of a change that otherwise would’ve thrown you into chaos.

He handled your calls, he mopped the floors and shined the counter, and he took you on amazing dates. You can firmly say that you’ve never had a boyfriend as respectful and supportive as him.

Too respectful, however, is an ever-present problem.

You’ve been with him for almost fifteen years and you can reasonably count the times he’s been anything other than a perfect family-friendly gentleman. If you look back on it, it was probably around fifty-two instances.

That seems like a lot, but spread out over fifteen years of young adult antics, it’s almost like he didn’t want to be intimate. He didn’t want to make out, or put a hand just a bit too low on your waist, or do anything passionate or fiery or heated. He just wanted dinner dates, a kiss on the cheek, and a hand to hold. You were fine with that, because in essence, that’s what you needed at the time, right? Stability. Comfort. Romance. Someone to wipe away your insecurities and hold you down at ground level.

A lingering thought, always bouncing around in the back of your mind, whispers that it shouldn’t take hours of tempting and teasing for a guy to want you.

You ignore all of that for right now. Derick is currently sitting across the table from you at the fanciest restaurant in the area.

Fancy places always make you a little nervous. You’re afraid to say the wrong thing or mispronounce a word on the menu, and your dresses get rumpled as you fidget with them. Even your nail polish doesn’t survive as you pick at the edges with your thumb. Derick smiles.

“What are you thinking about ordering?” He asks, setting his own menu down. You cease your picking and clear your throat. He looks especially nice tonight, with his dark hair gelled back and his black suit nice and crisp. It doesn’t quite fit with your dress, though you suppose it doesn’t need to.

“Uh, the caprese salad sounds good.” It’s the cheapest thing on the menu. He always pays, but you know that he gets a bit bothered when the bill racks up too high. You’ve offered to pay for yourself numerous times, but he waves the suggestion away, even when his face makes it known that he doesn’t want to.

“I make more money than you, babe, just let me take care of it.”

You try to smile sweetly, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. If he can tell, he doesn’t show it.

“Sounds good. I’m having the truffle alfredo myself.” He flags down a waiter, and you shrink a bit in your seat.

You can tell that this night is going to be another awkward one. After being with someone for so long, you come to expect certain things. Despite that, you wouldn’t trade this stability for anything. He makes good money, he buys you gifts, and once or twice a year, he’ll even sleep with you. What more could a girl want?

Bradley hasn’t had stability in a long time. He has a home in San Diego, sure, but going out for drinks every once and a while with people who have vastly different schedules isn’t really enough to make him want to stay. In truth, he almost misses being deployed because, at least then, he has a purpose.

When he saw you, he thought he might have an opportunity to right a wrong that has been tearing him up inside. He despises what he was like as a teenager, taking nothing seriously except his dreams to be a naval aviator. He’s learned throughout his life that everything matters, especially the feelings of other people, and even the small, mundane things he couldn’t care less about. The small, mundane things are what keep the world working.

He’s sitting on his couch, enjoying a small, mundane thing (a shitty reality show with acting so bad it makes him laugh) when an unknown number lights up his phone. He perks up, staring at the number as the reality show carries on. It’s probably just a spam number, but on the off chance it’s you, he picks up.

“Hello?” He hates how shaky his voice sounds. Just the idea of you sets his nerves on fire.

“I need a friend,” your soft voice mumbles. “Where can we meet? A place that serves strong alcohol would be preferable.”

Right after your early dinner date with Derick, you walked into your shared apartment, boxes lining every walkway. You really ought to have put everything away more quickly, but after a long day’s work, all you and your boyfriend could seem to do was pull out a few objects and give them a place in your new living quarters.

He immediately went to take a shower, as he usually did after a long day, and placed his locked phone on your nightstand. You collapsed onto your bed and looked up at the ceiling, still dressed, and began to dread opening shop in the morning. You love the cafe, but your lack of employees hits harder every day.

Derick had been handling most of the hiring process, with the good majority of the interviewees being his connections. It was helpful having a business major boyfriend, as his college networking and current accountant networking proved extremely useful for managing an actual business. He was always so enthusiastic about helping you run the place. You seriously don’t know what you would do without him.

His phone lit up next to you with a series of texts. You lazily let your gaze drift over to see what was going on. He wouldn’t mind if you checked who was texting, right? When you picked up his phone, the name that popped up was “employee candidate 4”. You smiled to yourself; Derick was so responsible, you thought. He must have given the candidates his number to see if they needed anything.

You unlocked his phone with your thumbprint, which you so sneakily added to his password bank a few months ago when you first started collaborating on the cafe’s business plan. What you saw made your heart drop down to the floor, splintering into a million little pieces that got stuck in your fresh linoleum.

Bradley hands you another drink, a strong one at that, and you gulp half of it down in one breath. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, makeup half-rubbed off from tears and friction. The sun began to set when you first entered, and in the dimming light, Bradley could tell that you were rattled. You still are, evidently. He waits for a moment before you clear your throat and offer a few gut-punching words.

“I checked my boyfriend’s phone.” He can tell where this is going. He doesn’t want it to be true, because who in their right mind would cheat on you?

“What was on it?” He prompts gently. You take another breath. You don’t want to dump this all on someone that you barely know, with the only history you have being a failed almost-relationship when you were teenagers, but you don’t have anyone else. When you moved to San Diego, you left everything behind, including your friends and family. You haven’t even talked to your friends in ages, as you’ve been so busy with the cafe and Derick that you couldn’t so much as call them. The idea of having Bradley nurse your broken heart is both gut-wrenching and just a little bit like a dream.

“A lot. I… I don’t want to ruin your night by bothering you. I should go.” You try to stand up from your bar stool, but he catches your wrist in his warm hands.

He shakes his head, eyebrows creased. “Just tell me. I’m here for you; I meant what I said in the cafe.” You nod, fresh tears welling up in your eyes as you sit down.

“I’ll get a few drinks in me first.”

You keep your word, managing to take down a sizable amount of alcohol within a few minutes. It’s not enough to get you passing out or throwing up, but enough to loosen your lips.

“Do you want to know what I saw?” Your face is warm, either from the alcohol or Bradley’s hand on your back. “Twenty-eight photos of his dick. It isn’t even good enough to warrant one photo, Bradley, one! None of them were sent to me, of course. Just the girls he would chat up online and fuck.” The words tumble out of your mouth, every pent-up frustration making its way into the light of the bar. “I looked through his search history, too, and then our finances, because I was suspicious of everything at that point. I found four subscriptions to porn sites in our bills and three more for online dating premium memberships. Who the fuck even needs a premium membership? God. I hate him.”

“Slow down, princess.” He says. His lips are quirked into a small smile as you ramble on and on about every small thing Derick has ever done to piss you off. “He seems like a real piece of work.”

“He is! He so is. I never get to order what I want, he always makes me feel responsible for his mistakes, and not once has he made me finish. I mean, we’ve had sex maybe twice in the last two years because he can’t get it up. Probably because he’s been sticking his dick in STD central.” Those last few items slip through your internal filter, but even in your state, you recognize that you probably shouldn’t be talking about your sex life with a guy you re-met a few days ago. “Sorry. That was personal.”

Bradley lifts his shoulders in a shrug. “Nothin’ I can’t handle. I can’t believe you stayed with him that long when he can’t do a single thing for you. If you were my girl, you wouldn’t know a day without pleasure.” It’s his turn to be embarrassed about what he said, but as his cheeks turn red, you don’t even seem to notice.

If you were his girl, he thinks, he’d treat you so well. He’d actually get you your favorite flowers instead of the ones he thinks would look nice in the aesthetic of your apartment, and he’d cook for you, and he’d never make you feel bad for loving him.

“Exactly.” You say. “He just wanted someone to come home to without even thinking about how I would feel. I wanted stability, and he gave me that, but nothing else.” You suddenly sound sober, but the tears are back, and they’re stronger than ever. “I loved him.” You choke out. “I don’t think I could ever get something better, not after so long.”

Bradley feels bad for even considering picking you up after this. You’re distraught, more than he’s ever seen anyone before. It’s clear that this is something you’re going to take a while to heal from. “You can and you will. He’s a dick, and I’m sorry you wasted so much time on him, but you will find some kind of relationship that deserves you. You can have a fresh start, and he’ll just be another asshole that you put in your past.”

You nod, taking in his words as you sip your soda. Bradley cut you off a while ago, which you’re eternally grateful for. If you had one more sip of alcohol, you think you'd either be dancing on a table or crying on the floor. Now, at least you’re crying upright in a stool, with the man across from you handing you tissues once in a while. The lady running the bar seems to know him, and she also seems to know that an endless supply of tissues is necessary for you tonight.

The doors of the bar open, and though you don’t want to peel yourself away from the sight of someone caring about you, you turn around anyway. When you do, your blood runs cold.

Bradley sees you stiffen and follows your line of sight to the person that just walked in. He’s handsome, in a way, with short, dark brown hair and a five-o-clock shadow. He seems like the stuck-up type. Your eyes are blown wide at the sight as the man walks over, a sort of fake concern lacing his expression.

“Baby-“

“Don’t fucking call me that, Derick. How did you even find me?” Oh. The soon-to-be ex. Bradley sits up on his stool, pulling himself to a position where he can easily stand if the moment calls for it.

Derick pulls out his phone sheepishly. “You left your location on.”

Goddamnit. Fuck.

“Get out. I don’t want to see you right now.” You’re seething, the anger coming off you in waves. You think that if you weren’t angry, you’d be sad, and you can’t handle that right now. The devastation of finding out your boyfriend is a freak and a cheater is something you just opened the box to, and you don’t feel like unpacking it in front of him.

“I’m sorry, okay?” He protests. “They didn’t mean anything to me. I love you, and I want to marry you, and I’ll never do it again. I- I have the ring right here, see?” He pulls out a familiar velvet-lined box, and you scoff.

“You should’ve thought about that before you cheated. Multiple times.”

Bradley stands up, placing a soothing hand between your shoulder blades. “Leave, man. She’s made it pretty clear that she doesn’t want you here.”

Derick bristles, his pasty face tinged red with anger. Bradley almost rolls his eyes at how small he looks. “You don’t need to stick up for her.” He takes a step forward. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were fucking her behind my back. That’s what this is, isn’t it? An excuse for you to leave me because some navy fucker had some nice enough sex with you?” He’s approaching fast. By the time he finishes his sentence, Derick’s fist is wrapped around your wrist tightly.

You let out a soft sound as his bruising fingers close around you, but as soon as he’s there, Bradley shoves him away and loosens his grip on you. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re either going to walk through those doors or you’re getting dragged out. I don’t care which.”

Derick scoffs. “Fine with me. I never liked you anyways.” He gives you a pointed glance, tucking the ring box into his jacket pocket.

“You have tonight to get your stuff out of the apartment that I paid for.” You say, rubbing the space between your eyebrows with your thumb. “I never want to see you again.” The second part comes out as a mumble, but he clearly gets the message.

“Fuck you.” He walks out, and the group of navy men by the door give him a dirty look. He’s more than ruined multiple peoples’ nights by this point. It went from one crying girl at a bar to the start of a bar fight in the two minutes he stood in front of you.

Bradley, concerned, gives you a soft look. “Do you have anywhere to stay tonight?”

You shake your head as more tears drip down your jaw. You hate this. You hate Derick, you hate yourself, and you hate the pitiful way Bradley is staring at you. Your California dream has turned into a nightmare. “No, but I’ll get a hotel somewhere. It’s not that big of a deal.” Your attempt to downplay the situation has Bradley on the verge of running after Derick and slapping the back of his big groomed head. You’re too nice for this, too sweet to be cheated on and forced to sleep in a cold bed that you paid $200 for.

“You can stay over at my place if you want. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t want to put you out like that. It’s fine,” you assure him, though your voice is the least sure it’s ever been. “There’s a nice enough place a few streets away.”

Bradley shakes his head. His warm hand is on your shoulder, like he’s trying to ground you. “It won’t put me out. C’mon, princess, it’s not a big deal. You can rest up and we’ll figure out what else to do in the morning.”

He called you “princess” again. It’s nice, you think, in your drunken mind. Right now, you’re too tired to fight anything about the situation you’re in. “Alright. As long as you’re sure.”

He pays your tabs, slipping a look to the lady running the bar. She nods at him and mouths something that you can’t quite make out. As he leads you to his car, a nice, blue, vintage bronco, he keeps one hand on the small of your back. The heat feels nice, like you have someone securing you. Like you won’t ever stumble or fall before his strong arms catch you. He must be a real nice guy if he’s doing all this after so long.

He buckles you into your seat, and you let your head fall back onto the headrest. Your eyes close, and you desperately try not to think about what your life has come to. You feel a buzz in your jacket pocket, but you don’t pick it up. Everything is fine, you assure yourself. You didn’t just break up with the man you were going to marry, and he didn’t cheat on you, and your phone isn’t going off wildly through the fabric of your coat, and you’re not strapped into the car of your high school self’s dream boy. You ride that feeling, that denial, right into sleep.

You’ll deal with the real life problems in the morning.

PREVIOUS || NEXT

Taglist: @m1dnightsnackz @itsarabellebabes @shanimallina87 @sadgirlgiselle @callsignstingray

[justwinginglife]

One Day

I am so so sorry in advance, I have no idea what came over me, the depression be kicking in hard or something. I cried writing this.

Soshiro sat on a park bench and wondered if he stayed still enough if he'd just cease to be. Part of him hoped that would happen. He'd experienced enough in his lifetime to know he didn't want to experience it anymore. Maybe the bench would claim him and he'd just become part of it. Maybe the ground would open up and swallow him. Maybe the sky would rain down divine retribution on him for not being able to protect you. For not being able to save you. For not being enough.

He hoped it would. But the sky was clear today. In fact the sky had been clear since you'd passed and he hated it. It was blindingly blue. He thought he might start hating the color blue but he knew he couldn't, it was your favorite color after all.

He bit his lip as he thought about you yet again. He was always thinking of you. Even in his dreams, there you were. A constant reminder of what an immense treasure he'd lost.

You'd cried out for him before you died. You were scared. He couldn't even reassure you before you left, he couldn't even do that one small thing. Send you off to the unknown with no fear. Because he was scared. He didn't want you to go. But before he knew it, you were gone.

He didn't even remember when he started crying, he just remembered that afterward his eyes were achingly, blisteringly dry.

He felt that ache in him everyday.

He wanted to let go.

But then she started crying in his arms and he sat up straight, remembering where he was. He rocked her back and forth in his arms, whispering "Shh, shh, it's okay."

She was all that was left of you. You'd died giving birth to her. Part of him wanted to never stop looking at her, looking for you in her eyes and her dimples. And some part of him wanted to stop looking at her altogether, stop being reminded of what he'd lost, terrible as that sounded.

But he went on anyway, caring for her, loving her, like you would've wanted him to. He poured all the overflowing abundance of love he'd had for you into her.

She cried and he thought he might cry with her. His heart was tormented by the thought that she'd never know what a bright, beautiful presence you'd been in his life.

She'd never know what your laugh sounded like, what your singing sounded like, what your love sounded like.

But he vowed he'd try to tell her everyday. He'd show her the meadows, saying "Mommy used to love showing up everyday with random wildflowers she'd picked and she'd populate our whole house with them." He imagined he'd take her to school where you went to school and tell her, "Mommy was the smartest person who ever graced these halls. She'd always tease daddy for not being able to keep up with her brains." And when she grew up and got married and he walked her down the aisle, he'd say "You look just as beautiful as your mother did when she married me."

But that was all in the future, in some faraway "one day." For now, he just had today. And today was too long for his liking. Too far away from a future where she would be old enough to not need him. Too far away from a day when he could finally join you.

One day, he'd join you and maybe the blue skies wouldn't hurt so much.

One day.

[mercuriians]

hello!!! I saw that your requests were open, can I request some drabbles with Welt and Jing Yuan with an overly cautious s/o, discovering them wearing something of theirs as comfort? (ex. They catch reader out and about calmer then usual, and the after a bit realize reader is wearing an article of their clothing? (Maybe for Welt, one of his old scarves, wrapped around their neck, covering half of their face. For Jing Yuan an old long sleeve turtlekneck, that's so loose on reader that it looks like a dress)

Thank youu

✒️

breathe me in

content info — gn! reader, fluffy drabbles w/ the lovely mr. yang & jing yuan (separate!!), reader is mentioned to be a cloud knight in jing yuan's part, & a morsel of hurt/comfort if you squint.

word count — 0.9k words.

author's note — mm i liked writing this a lot! welt's been one of my favs since the start and i've grown fond of jing yuan too. i love them. thank you for being my first requester, anon!! <3

WELT YANG.

seeing as your boyfriend is, hands down, one of the most observant people you've ever come across, it's only inevitable for him to notice one particular change in your appearance. he's barely entered the parlor car when he spots some sort of brown fabric comfortably stretched across the width of your neck. the realization dawns not even a second later—that's his scarf, one of the several that have grown weathered over the limitless journeys.

still, once welt sees the serene, relaxed expression on your face, and how the stiff vigilance in your eyes has melted—that alone brings out a tiny smile from him—he comes to the conclusion that you pay no attention to the scarf's loose threads and holes. or, that you do, but you don't care about them.

finally, your eyes meet his, your lips curving into a familiar little smile of your own. he walks over to where you're sitting before taking his place next to you. "hey, baby." you greet him tenderly.

"hi, dear," welt hums. with no one else—besides pom pom of course—in the parlor car at the moment, he reaches for your hand without any trace of hesitation. his fingers, calloused yet warm, envelop yours. "i see you've found one of my old scarves. i'd honestly almost forgotten that they were still in my drawer."

"yeah, you caught me.." vaguely, you start to look bashful, your gaze drifting elsewhere, your teeth nibbling softly on your lower lip.

however, he's quick to appease your diffidence. the man says his next words with the kind of adoration that can never be faked. "it looks far better on you than it could have ever been on me."

wide with surprise, your eyes find his. "you.. you mean that?" you whisper, but your heart is already swelling with joy.

welt leans down to place a careful, meaningful kiss on your forehead. "forever and always, my love."

JING YUAN.

the present moment was likely the worst time for your clumsiness to show. just a second ago, your foot had slipped on the loose material of jing yuan's burgundy turtleneck. barely managing not to fall on your face, you stumble into your shared chambers. what really makes your cheeks burn in humiliation, however, is what happens next.

without a warning, the general of the xianzhou luofu bursts into laughter.

it's not his usual kind of laugh, either; instead of being brief, restrained, and courteous, it's prolonged, loud, and unbridled. one would almost think that he's cackling, if not for the respectable kind of individual that he happens to be.

"do my actions entertain you that much, general?" you grumble with your arms crossed, a forced, but mild anger lacing your tone.

once he hears your words, jing yuan ceases his hysterics. "why do you address me so formally, darling?" he asks, clearing his throat despite the remnants of mirth still lingering within his aureate eyes.

"maybe because you seemed unable to control your emotions a second ago," you retort. your answer doesn't even fully make sense, you're well aware, but by now the shame covers you from head to toe. you can't exactly find the effort needed to care.

still, the general maintains his appropriately perceptive nature. sensing your change in mood, he quickly and efficiently dispels all traces of amusement. he pats the vacant spot next to him. "come, sit with me."

you move to sit down next to him, your movements completely quiet except for your breathing. this time you make sure that you don't trip on your boyfriend's annoyingly long turtleneck. to jing yuan's surprise, you speak first. "i'm sure you've noticed what i'm wearing," you start, and he nods affirmatively. "i found it while i was cleaning your closet."

you look down, nervously pulling on the sleeve. "it reminded me of you, so i put it on. it.. it helps me feel normal, i guess, like i don't have to constantly put my guard up."

there's a stubborn beat of silence that ensues, and with your unease growing, you lift your head to meet jing yuan's eyes. however, your worries are futile; the look on his face tells you that he understands completely.

of course he does.

"i'm sorry for laughing earlier, my beloved." the man says earnestly. "i was just taken by surprise, especially since your steadfast caution is of another level. to put it into other words, i suppose.." jing yuan trails off, taking a moment to properly articulate his thoughts. "it makes me glad that even a strict, unwavering lieutenant of the cloud knights has their moments of humanity."

with the way your boyfriend gazes into your eyes, you're unable to do anything else but let your embarrassment slip away, subdued by what you know to be jing yuan's love. "and it makes me glad that even a general of the xianzhou has their moments of immaturity," you giggle softly. the man shakes his head, amused once again.

"i'll offer you a deal, darling. if i kiss you, perhaps, will you promise to forgive me?" jing yuan hums, his large hands already reaching out to trace the familiar hem of the turtleneck.

"i already have," you smile, but nonetheless you lean in, taking in his placating scent of cedarwood, fresh ink, and earthy leather. your eyes slide shut, lithe arms circling around your boyfriend's strong neck as your lips meet his. his fingers dip underneath your clothing, tenderly ghosting over your skin as he kisses you more deeply.

neither of you pull away for a long while.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Understanding Lennon McCartney Rewatch Part 2.2

Prettyyyyy

Maybe John's not actually crazy for thinking Hey Jude is to him? “For well you know that it's a fool who plays it cool by making his world a little colder.” fool is, in my tin hat world, often a code name for Paul in their songs. And that description is certainly him to a t actually. I wonder why I've never considered it before. 

John: are you happy here, honey? Paul: I ain't happy here my honey, can you take me back? How many songs does Paul write from 1968 on about trying to go back? One day I'm going to make a list and it'll be a long one. 

And thus begins the phase of they just can't help it, can they? But they really wish they could. They make each other so so happy, but they really wish they didn't. It would hurt less that way. 

I love the comparison of Linda's pictures of everyone else and then of John. It just shows that it's not a her problem – that's such a lovely one of George, who Hates Yoko – it's how he feels about her.

John, coming up with every possible weapon to provoke Paul, finally has Yoko sing Paul's part in one of their songs. It really is such a slap in the face. But of course breaking the sanctity of their music is what does it best. And still, all he gets out of him is a look before he walks away. Whatever it is that John wants, I think Paul literally can not give it to him. 

Btw the white album is my favorite, probably. There's just such incredible diversity on it. It's so much fun, you never get tired of it, and it's an excellent display of their genius and versatility. 

He looks like an abandoned puppy. 

What do we think? John says Paul drummed on WDWDITR. Paul says Ringo did. Who is telling the truth?

“It was getting to be where he wanted to do it like that but he couldn't make the break . . .” So John thinks Paul doing his songs by himself means he wants to break the group up? I personally read it as him not wanting to annoy everyone with his bossiness, but that's just my take. 

John talking about how it's him and Yoko now, but before, it was . . .

George needs to send them a cease and desist notice or he'll sue them for breech of character the amount of times they drag him into things he's not a part of. Especially if they're not going to even fucking spare him a glance in reality. Please and thank you, Hare Krishna. 

Paul's epigraph on the two virgins cover. “Battles to prove he was a saint”? What kind of passive aggressive shit is that, Paul?

The eternal question: what happened in India? And does John really not know? Or is he just unwilling to tell what happened to rolling stone?

Somebody please engage with that poor little boy, preferably, you know, his father. Ugh, Cynthia must've had so much anxiety watching that footage, or really any time Julian was with John. And that footage is placed in the doc right after a pic of Paul already being Heather's dad just so naturally. 

But hell, if I've ever seen attention-seeking behavior, this is it. Singing about wanting to die while seductively undressing the closest thing Paul would've had to career competition at the time. 

I'm sorry but it will forever be hilarious to me that when John's singing his part of “I've Got a Feeling” with Yoko it's “soft dream” and then with Paul it's “wet dream”. How John and Yoko tricked everyone into believing they were too horny for each other to control themselves is beyond my imagination. 

On the day John plays their sex tape, “Unusually, Yoko is not present.” LMAO girl same. John: I'm going to play our sex tape for the band tomorrow. Yoko: oh was that tomorrow? Damn, I forgot, I have a thing. 

“Well that's an interesting one.” What did John honestly expect, though? Like I know he wanted Paul to be like, “that's it! Enough is enough I'm taking you home and doing you right!” Or whatever. But what did he honestly, realistically expect?

Always saying the same things at the same time, always on the same page, same word. About everything, it seems, except their relationship. 

Paul: but you won't say anything about it. John: I said what I've been thinking. Paul: Are you still thinking that now? What are you thinking now? John: I'm still thinking about it. Infuriating. Whatever it is John's been thinking, he doesn't want to talk about it in front of cameras. Is it quitting the band? I think it's something more complicated than that but I've no idea what. 

“John, John, joooooohn!” X “Martha my Dear” crossover my beloved. The fact that literally Everyone reacts and tries to get her to stop except Paul is so extremely telling. Yoko: joooooohn! Ringo: He's busy! Yoko: joooooohn! John: Stop that! (And he looks and sounds genuinely pissed) Yoko: joooooohn! Paul: (plinking and pounding away, definitely not thinking thoughts about what he would do right now if he was a girl that will come out of his mouth fifteen years later)

Everyone's trying to figure out the problem with George vs JohnandYoko and Paul's saying “and like with Yoko, they’re real. They mean it.” Linda laughs. “I don't dig that.” You don't, Linda? What about them isn't real to her, I wonder. Does she think they don't really love each other? Or what?

Linda: *Makes fart noise* Go away! Paul: continues to defend them. Neil: everybody cough. See and this is why it sucks that get back was so edited. Because it's important that Paul's defending them here not just going on and on where nobody asked. He knows he's hurt John, and he feels bad enough about it to let him have his mommy with him at all times if that's what he needs.

If what??? Someone needs to force them to finish their damn sentences. Because I feel like he cuts himself off here when (I swear!!) he's about to say what it is that's hurting John so badly.

Anyway, here's where (imo) he's kinda wrong. Where he says "if it came to a push between Yoko and the band, it's Yoko." I think I said it in my get back posts, but I'll say it again. Yeah, if it was Yoko or the band, it's Yoko. But if it's Yoko or Paul filling all the gaps Yoko is currently filling? It's Paul. You know? And I think that's what John wants so badly at this time, actually. Is “a push between Yoko and [Paul]” ending with Paul stepping up for him in some way that he wasn't before, you know?

He really does get it though. John wanting to be as close as possible with Yoko so he doesn't lose her and their connection. Don't forget he does put Linda in his band. He gets it because it was the same with him and John. 

I really do think it's a huge myth that they just never talked about feelings or anything serious. Look at them. This is how they talk in a crowded place with their girlfriends sitting right there. They didn't just get through fifteen years of one of the greatest collaborations in history never actually talking. They talked about deep stuff. And frequently. 

[7ndipity]

Good Morning

Jimin x Reader

Summary: Just a little thing about cozy mornings with a very sweet, attentive Jimin who loves to take care of you.

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: +18 mdni, Very suggestive, implied smut, mentions of marking, swearing, not proofread

A/N: Thanks to @squid-princess-teach-swallow for requesting this! I hope you like it!

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

‘It should be illegal to look this good asleep’ You thought as you stared at your sleeping boyfriend, his face pressed against the pillows, causing his lips to part in a soft pout, his slow breaths just barely stirring the messy strands of hair that hung across his face.

Under normal circumstances, you would’ve tried to sneakily snap a picture to tease him with later, but you were far too comfortable in your current position to look for your phone, preferring to stay curled up on your side under the covers with him, letting your fingers dance along his arm, admiring the way the morning sunlight looked on his bare skin.

The sensation of your fingers slowly stroking up and down his arm proved to be enough to pull him from sleep, slowly blinking his eyes open, a faint smiling spreading across his face as you came into focus in front of him.

“Good morning.” He whispered, scooching over enough to wrap his arms around you, pressing a kiss to your waiting lips.

“Morning.” You hummed contentedly, rolling onto your back to let him rest his head against your shoulder. “I like this.”

“What?” He asked sleepily.

“Waking up with you.”

“Yeah? Is this something you could get used to?” Your eyes were closed, but you could hear the smile in his voice.

“Definitely.”

You’d thought you would feel more awkward about staying over at Jimin’s place for the first time, but almost as soon as you stepped through the door, all your nerves had vanished. Everything with Jimin always felt so natural, from arguing over what show to watch after dinner to brushing your teeth together to falling asleep in his arms. Even waking up next to him just felt so so right.

“Do you want breakfast?” He asked.

Not yet.” You said, snuggling closer. “I want to stay here for a while.”

“I have no problem with that.” He chuckled, hands drifting along the strip of exposed skin where your shirt had ridden up in your sleep, slowly trailing kisses up the side of your neck, earning a quiet laugh from you.

“Aren't you tired?” You chuckled.

“Of you? Never.” He replied, grinding his semi-hard length against your thigh.

The two of you had agreed you were going to ‘just sleep’ the night before, but what he hadn’t anticipated was just how much it would affect him to see you curled up in his bed, looking so cute in one of his t-shirts.

What had started out as a few teasing touches had quickly escalated to kissing and grinding, and then him between your legs, and then you clinging to him for dear life as he’d pounded you into the mattress.

Pulling you closer, Jimin continued to pepper your neck and shoulder with kisses, lightly kneading your hip as his hands ghosted closer to your core.

You flinched slightly, squirming away from his touch, letting out a small hiss of sensitivity.

As soon as the sound left your lips, he immediately froze, ceasing all of his menstrations as he pulled back to look up at you wide eyed.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, concerned.

“No, I’m just a little sensitive.” You said.

He frowned at that, his plush lips drooping into a tiny pout.

“My poor baby.” He cooed, reaching up to gently caress your face. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me, my legs just aren’t used to getting the pretzel treatment.” You responded with a smirk, causing a faint dusting of pink to cover his cheeks, biting his lip to try and fight back a shy grin at your words.

It was always so funny to see how suddenly sheepish you could make him with just a few words, in contrast to his usual cool, confident aura that he held in bed. It almost made it hard to believe that he was the same person that had nearly folded you in half the night before.

He suddenly sat up, gently moving to sit between them.

“What are you doing?” You asked, confused.

“Taking care of you.” He explained, gently lifting one of your legs and beginning to massage your thigh, trying to help ease some of the lingering soreness and tension in the muscles.

“Chim, I’m fine, it’s not that bad.” You said.

“Shh, just let me look after you.” He said, pressing a light kiss to the inside of your knee.

“Alright then.” You sighed dramatically, letting your fall closed again, earning a chuckle from Jimin.

You couldn’t deny, it felt amazing, Jimin’s careful fingers working along the tops of your thighs, kneading your muscles and turning you into a relaxed puddle on the bed. There were no sounds other than his occasional quiet apologies whenever you twitched or whined at a particularly tender spot.

You had almost fallen back to sleep when his sudden soft laughter pulled you from your trance, cracking your eyes open to see him staring down at you with an amused expression.

“What?” You giggled.

“You look like you've been through it.” He chuckled, taking in your mussed hair and sleep dazed expression.

“You’re one to talk, you look like you lost a fight with an octopus.” You giggled, taking note of the numerous pink and purple marks that decorated his neck and chest.

“Oh no, I definitely won.” He smirked, staring down at you with eyes that made your face flush with heat. “The poor octopus can’t even walk now.”

“Fuck you.” You laughed, trying to kick him but missing.

“Maybe later.” He replied, trailing a few more kisses along your inner thighs, ghosting over a few of the lingering marks from the night before, making a mental note to himself to replace them when they started to fade.

You squirmed lightly on his hold, feeling slightly sensitive in a different way now as you felt him smile against your skin.

“I love you.” You whispered.

He looked back up at you, his expression so tender it made your heart ache.

“I love you too.” He let your leg down, climbing back up to kiss you gently.

“Now, you mentioned something about breakfast?” You asked, making him laugh again.

“Yes, I did.” He nodded. “What would you like?”

“I don’t care, so long as there’s coffee.” You shrugged, giving him another soft peck.

“Anything for you.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters

[reallyromealone]

Maybe a part 3 to resilient?

Resilient chapter 3

Eddie Munson x male reader

Stranger things

Warnings: omegaverse, male reader, angst, Omega male reader, implied mpreg, Eddie feels like Dookie

☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️🐟☁️

(sons name) excitedly ate his pancakes, (name) looking fondly at his kid as Hopp drank his coffee while reading the morning paper "so ducky, you are gonna hang out with grandpa today, isn't that fun?" (Name) Gently cleaned the pups face as they moved on to their bacon, extra crispy just like (sons name) liked it.

(Sons name) Looked giddy before glancing at his grandpa "what we doin!?" He asked with an aggressive level of excitement and Hopp chuckled "you gotta see bud" his eyes holding a glimmer of excitement as he finished his coffee "now finish your food"

Eddie stood infront of the apartment door, nerves invading his mind as he hesitated to knock, pulling back when he was about to and pacing slightly in a small circle.

"Stop being a bitch munson... Just knock on the door" he took a deep breath and knocked on the door, waiting anxiously for ten minutes before knocking once more "he's not there" a withered old voice said as Eddie turned to see an elderly woman at the door across the hall "do you know where he went?" Eddie asked anxiously and the woman sighed "moved to his dad's or whatever... Good kid, gonna miss 'em" Eddie thanked the woman and left the building, a shuttered sigh escaping his lips as she toyed with his car keys, thankful that no one really cared about him as he got inside his mustang and just rested his head on the wheel.

"Fuck" he was at Hopps? That was practically a death wish for Eddie... Hopp had zero qualms for shooting people off his property and added bonus of Sheriff... Yeah he wasn't going there.

He drove around town, aimlessly looking for any sign of the Omega as he tried not to let anxiety flood him as well as avoid anyone he may know, especially Robin and Steve... The two were a danger within themselves.

(Name) Was happy as he ended his shift, walking to the local toy store to get his toddler a few gifts as he had a fair more amount to work with now that he didn't pay rent, already having decorations hidden in his closet for the party in just a few weeks.

(Name) Looked at the toys his son would like, large building blocks and paw patrol were big contenders as he looked at his options carefully "I am not getting that... To many parts" parts he and his dad will definitely step on eventually and frankly that's not what they needed.

(Name) Was excited as he left the store with a few bags of toys, giddy he got to splurge on his little sunshine.

He wasn't expecting to lock eyes with Eddie... He always thought of this day... The day he would eventually see him, have something witty to say or maybe be cool and put together and make Eddie regret hurting him like he did...

But all he did was stare, throat tight and body suddenly freezing cold as Eddie looked like a sad puppy "can... Can we talk?" Eddie said softly, (name)s breathing uneven as he felt himself grow dizzy with anxiety... Suddenly he felt like the helpless teen he was almost four years ago.

It was extremely tense as they sat before one another in the back of a small diner, coffees infront of both of them, neither speaking for a solid ten minutes.

"So... You're back" (name) whispered as he fidgeted with his fingers, Eddie wanted so badly to reach out to him but he knew that would be a terrible idea "I am... Wayne showed me the letters... I-I didn't know" (name) just stared at him coldly, anger flooding through him "yet you still did what you did" (name) whispered, voice shaking with anger as he looked Eddie in the eye "never did you think to believe me, to listen to me... But now suddenly I matter? I don't care if you didn't know, I will never forgive you" (name) seethed, a strength rushing through his veins that he didn't know he had and Eddie looked gutted at his words. Good.

"You sent me a cease and desist, I don't understand why you are talking to me since you clearly despsie me" (name) was more confident as he leaned back "after all, I'm just a gold digger and a whore who wants to earn THE Eddie munsons favor again" paraphrasing Eddie and his band mates + parts of the gangs words and Eddie looked like he was killed over and over again "I am so sorry... I'll cancel the cease and desist! I-I just wanted to make amends... Meet my son..."

"You can meet him but know I will never forgive you..." (Name) Said coldly "you can even do a DNA test if you want... Make sure you are actually the father of a whores pup" (name) knew he was the dad, (sons name) was literally a mini Eddie down to his smile but god did he want to rub salt in the wounds.

"I have to go, I have things I need to go do, I'll let you know when he and myself are ready to see you" the Alpha shakily handed (name) his number, he watched as (name) lifted bags up "goodbye, Munson" (name) said coldly and left Eddie in the diner, coffees untouched.

(Name) Rushed to his car, his dad giving him his old truck to drive and drove off, unsure where as he reeled at what just happened, god he was shaking.

He got home, sitting in the driveway as he felt anger and anxiety flow through him, he avoided ANYTHING Eddie related for almost four years and bam! There he was with a shitty apology and god (name) felt like he vindicated his past self for telling off his ex, fuck Eddie Munson frankly.

(Name) Left the toys in the car, unsure if his kid and dad were home, not wanting to risk it as he unlocked the door "YOU HOME!" (sons name) Squealed as he ran towards his dad, (name) smiling as he lifted the pup in his arms "so are you my little firecracker!" (Sons name) Gently bonking his forehead against his dams, having learned cats do it do it was his new favorite thing "how was your day with grandpa?" (Name) Asked as he walked into the kitchen area where he saw cookies and Joyce along with his siblings "what are you two doing here?" He knew Joyce had gone to go see them but... "Mom got us, we can't miss our favorite nephews birth" will said softly and (name) smiled stupidly before looking at his son "they came just to see you!"

When (sons name) went down for his nap, (name) spoke of the meeting with Eddie to his family as he nibbled on a cookie "he apologized to me and all that but god I just wanted to beat him with the mug... How dare he act remorseful when he was so cruel to me" how dare he expect that sympathy and empathy when he denied (name) it all those years ago, (name) crushed the cookie in his hand as he grew more angry, thankfully wearing scent blockers so no one had to smell the death stench of an angry Omega.

"So are you going to let him meet (sons name)?" Joyce would support anything (name) decided as her step son sighed "...I- I will let him meet him but on my terms... I plan on meeting him again and maybe bring Steve when bringing my terms... Everything is about (sons name)s comfort"

(Name) Spent the night putting the terms together, thinking of anything needed.

Then he sent off the text for a meeting to set boundaries with a deep sigh.

He didn't know if he wanted his son to have Eddie in his life but he knew it wasn't fair to his pup... Didn't mean he liked it though.

[papiliotao]

・❥・DICTIONARY OF LOVE

♡ — Reader: GN

♡ — Characters: Albedo, Ayaka, Kazuha, Tartaglia, Wanderer (Scaramouche), Xiao

♡ — Synopsis: love through their eyes.

♡ — Content: fluff, very very light angst(?)

♡ — Warnings: spoilers for some characters' backstories

♡ — A/N: honestly, I'm kind of proud of the fact that I was able to keep each part relatively concise. Also, one of these parts is just me being down bad for one of the characters (I'll leave who it is to your imagination hehe). Anyway, as always, I hope you enjoy the fic!!

To ALBEDO, love means patience. He's well aware that he's not the most energetic or expressive person. There are moments where his social battery is low, and he needs to immerse himself in his own world more than anything. Whenever this happens, you sit in the snowy landscape of Dragonspine, watching Albedo as he drags a brush across a canvas, causing inky strokes to bleed across the intricate composition. You wait in silence, intently peering at him, observing every movement of his arm and flick of his wrist. The frigid air stings your cheeks, but Albedo's presence is enough to cease the chills that threaten to wrack your body. Once he finishes, he turns to you and smiles softly. Albedo thanks you for waiting for him. Your understanding means the world to him, and despite the fact that you insist you need nothing in return, he still feels the need to reimburse you by taking you back to his camp in Dragonspine where he cuddles you until you feel warm again.

To AYAKA, love means acceptance. After long days of being surrounded by people who idolize her instead of seeing her as a friend, your presence makes her feel like a human being instead of some faultless goddess. Although she appreciates the individuals who think highly of her, she loves how spending time with you feels so easy in comparison. With you, she has no image to maintain. Formalities and etiquette are thrown out the window when she is with the one she adores. Despite the fact that you know she's not a perfect person, you're still hers, and that makes her feel secure. You're special to her because you accept all her flaws instead of ignoring them, yet you love her nonetheless.

To KAZUHA, love means tranquility. After all the storms he has encountered in his lifetime, he needs someone who can help him calm the raging tempests in his heart, and that someone is you. Peace — it's a feeling reminiscent of the serenity that courses through his veins when he basks in the last ephemeral rays of sunlight with you by his side. It’s a sentiment that is evoked by the gentle lapping of waves on sand as the two of you walk along a pristine shoreline, hand-in-hand as the sun sinks below the horizon. And most importantly of all, it's found in the sense of stillness that settles over him each night as he falls asleep with you in his arms. The moon acts as a witness to your love, curiously glancing down at the two of you as Kazuha holds you close and whispers sweet nothings into your ear until you drift off into slumber. When he is finally left alone with his thoughts, Kazuha wistfully gazes overhead and thanks every star in his sight for leading him to you.

To TARTAGLIA, love means war. He is a fighter by nature, so needless to say, he will fight as many battles as it takes to protect you. He knows it's not easy nor safe being romantically involved with one of the Fatui Harbingers. Numerous foes have tried to take you hostage and use you as leverage against him. However, Tartaglia is always there to protect you whenever his enemies try to strike from the shadows. His love for you and his contempt for those who attempt to hurt you fuel a fiery rage that urges him to show no mercy. By the time he is finished with them, he is certain that they will never try to harm you again. In Tartaglia's eyes, loving you is like fighting a war, and although the prospect is unappealing to many, Tartaglia is different. The thrill of battle fills him with adrenaline, and at the end of the day, he finds that it is all worth it because you're still by his side.

To the WANDERER, love means eternity. It is a concept he is all too familiar with — after all, the deity who embodies the principle is the one who created him just to cast him aside, initiating the first of several betrayals to come. All the fleeting moments of warmth he has experienced in his lifetime have left him raring for more, but no one ever quite quenches his thirst for intimacy before they abandon him. He wants something lasting, but he's too afraid to voice his desires due to the dubious thoughts that riddle his mind. If the God of Eternity’s affection for him was as transient as the vibrant maple leaves that adorned his birthplace, then who would ever be willing to love him indefinitely? His burning questions are all answered when he meets you. You are able to look past his harsh exterior and see him for who he truly is: someone afraid of the impermanence of tenderness, so when you finally confess your true feelings to him, you make it clear that you plan on staying by his side forevermore. When you make your vow to the Wanderer, he feels a gentle heartbeat thrumming to life in his once-empty chest. Perhaps this time, eternity will last forever.

To XIAO, love means subtlety. It is difficult for Xiao to verbally convey his admiration for you, so instead of expressing his infatuation in a straightforward manner, it is instead a sentiment he administers through lingering touches and shy acts of service. His love is quiet. Subdued, yet passionate all the same, and he will forever be grateful that you never fail to pick up on what he is discreetly trying to say to you. A heartfelt "I love you" is hidden in every small moment, no matter how insignificant it seems. And the way you reciprocate his gestures by preparing his favourite dish, shyly taking his hand while you're sitting together on Wangshu Inn's roof, and inspecting his body for any injuries in what you think is an inconspicuous manner makes his heart race time and time again. To Xiao, love is not something that needs to be in-your-face; it is found when you read between the lines.

Au revoir, mes amis. Also, all of these were supposed to be wholesome, and then Childe came along, and I just said VIOLENCE. I wonder if anyone can tell which one of these characters is my favourite. (Any guesses? /hj)