#how they bleed their heart dry so they can love enough for the both of them

[i-am-a-fan]

I’m so normal about the devotion trope. I’m not mentally ill about it. You can trust me with characters that devote their life to an idol.

#How they’d break their bones for them if they ever need to feel for them #how they bleed their heart dry so they can love enough for the both of them #how they’d cut their arm just to feed their loved one #UGH #Oh. it’s so toxic #don’t do this kids #but it’s so good for story #mmmm much much much #slurp it up #🐊 #speck rambles

[hintsofhoney]

Radio and the Rain

Pairing(s): Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Summary: When a bad storm forces you and Dean apart on a hunt, he realizes just how much you mean to him.

Tags: 18+, smut, making love, p in v, all that jazz... nothing too crazy

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: Hello, I'm back after almost 6 months. Moving across the country (again) among other big life events (all good ones!) gave me the worst writer's block of all time, but thanks to my friends (@soaringeag1e & @emoryhemsworth), writing this fic per their suggestion (based off Radio and the Rain by Chris Young) is what finally pulled me out of it! Beta'd by my angels @wayward-dreamer and @makeadealwithdean. Alright, hope you all enjoy, and I promise I'll be back again with more things soon!

You can also read me on Ao3!

DEAN WINCHESTER MASTERLIST | SUPERNATURAL MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

“Y/N!” Dean calls out, doubtful that you can hear him over the sound of the rain coming down as he tries to ignore the panic building inside him. His hair is stuck to his forehead from the downpour, water droplets streaming down his face as he tries to shield himself from the weather. It’s no use. He’s soaked to the bone – he’s not sure he could have worn enough layers to keep him dry, not in this storm – and the darkness of the forest seems to go on forever. He could have sworn there was a town nearby – some light pollution would be really helpful right about now – but he seems to be shit out of luck. Thunder booms above him, almost deafening, and he keeps on what he hopes is the right path, his heart rate steadily increasing. He needs to find you. 

“Y/N!” he yells again after another minute passes. If he’s soaked, he can’t imagine what you must be. He remembers what you’re wearing; skinny jeans, a thin green t-shirt, a black faux leather jacket, hunting boots. Normally, he doesn’t complain about your refusal to wear more layers, but right now, ‘I told you so’ is on the tip of his tongue. He would need a large amount of hands to count how many times he’s told you to prepare for anything , and that a flimsy t-shirt and jacket weren’t gonna cut it, but in your defense, this storm came out of nowhere. He had to give you that, at least. 

“Dean!” he whips his head around at the faint sound of his name making its way through the rain, and yells yours out once more before making his way towards your voice. His eyes are adjusted enough to the dark to where he can make out silhouettes of fallen trees ahead of him, stepping over them with little caution as you call out to him again. He has to make sure you’re okay. He has to get to you. 

“I’m here, Y/N!” he yells, “Where are you!?” 

“Dean!” 

He hears it, clear as day from behind him. He turns around in time to see the outline of your soaked body appearing from behind the trees.

“Y/N!” He rushes to you, taking your cold hand in his, and you can’t tell if he’s relieved or angry to see you – or a little bit of both. You should have listened to him when he told you splitting up was a bad idea, but completing the hunt had been the only thing on your mind, Dean’s lectures about safety be damned. “Jesus, you’re freezing,” he comments, like he isn’t an icicle himself. He wants to say, ‘I told you splitting up was a bad idea’, but he holds his tongue. He can lecture you later. 

He grabs you firmly by the shoulders, looking you up and down. “Are you okay?” 

With the rain pouring down, he sounds like he’s whispering, even though you can tell he’s only a decibel away from full-on screaming. Lightning strikes in the distance, and you’re able to get a clear view of his face for a brief moment. Water streaming down his clenched jaw, hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, worried green eyes searching yours. They land on your cheek, which you think is bleeding thanks to the branch that smacked you in the face a few minutes ago, and you roll your eyes at his over-concern.

“I’m fine, Dean. It’s just a scratch.” 

“C’mon,” he replies gruffly, pulling you into his coat in an attempt to shield you from the rain. “Baby’s got a first aid kit in the back.” 

Ten minutes of walking later and you can make out Baby’s silhouette parked on the road on the other side of some trees. The rain seems to have gotten even worse – if that’s even possible – and the thought of being underneath some type of roof (Baby’s was just as good as any) where you’d have an opportunity to get dry was getting your tired legs through the last bit of your trek out of the muddy woods. 

Your first step onto the dirt road comes with more rain as you come out from under the umbrella of trees. Dean opens the back door for you, ushering you inside and telling you not to worry about your shoes (something that he was usually a stickler about; he liked a clean car). To your surprise, he gets in behind you, quickly closing the door before the backseat can get even more wet. He leans over the front bench, fishing his keys out of his pocket, before starting the ignition and turning on the heat. The radio comes on as Baby starts up, and he lets it play as he opens the glove box and pulls out a flashlight, before sitting back and reaching underneath the driver’s seat for the first aid kit. 

“Hold this,” he orders, turning on the light and handing it to you, the brightness of the bulb causing you both to squint as your eyes adjust. 

“Dean, I told you, I’m fine,” you reiterate with an exhausted sigh, watching as he opens the white box in his lap. 

“Shine it on your face, I need to get a better look.”

You roll your eyes, pointing the flashlight on your cheek, allowing Dean to grab the underside of your chin as he moves your head to the side and examines the damage. 

“Needs to be cleaned,” he announces, letting you go and pulling out a small bottle of rubbing alcohol and gauze from the kit. You watch as he unscrews the cap and flips the bottle over, letting the cloth absorb some of the liquid before flipping it back and closing it. “This is gonna sting.”

He says that every time, and you chuckle softly in response. “Yeah, not my first time.” 

He doesn’t even crack a smile. He grabs underneath your chin again, dabbing your wound with the cloth, and you’re too focused on his mood to even notice the sting. A minute passes by, and you’re sure it’s clean by now, but he seems to be on autopilot, jaw clenched and eyes both focused in on what he’s doing and glazed over at the same time. 

“Dean,” you say gently, placing your free hand on top of his, stilling his movements and pulling him out of his trance. “I think it’s clean.”

Silence, except for the rain and the radio, which is quietly playing Is This Love by Whitesnake (not usually what this station plays, but it’s 2 a.m. and you figure they probably save the sappy 80s songs for this time of night). 

And then, “You can’t do that.” His voice is barely above a whisper. 

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head. “Do what?”

“Scare me like that. I didn’t – I thought –” he shakes his head, dropping his hand and placing the gauze back in the kit, along with the rubbing alcohol, before closing it and shoving it back under the seat. “Just – you can’t do that.”

“Dean, the storm came out of nowhere. We’ve split up on hunts so many –”

“And it’s never my idea!” he interrupts. 

“What do you want me to say, Dean!? ‘I’m sorry that God decided to flood the earth again while we were out hunting werewolves’!? I am fine , okay? I can handle –”

He cups your face in his cold hands, careful to avoid the fresh cut on your cheek. “I don’t doubt that you can handle yourself. But I can’t lose you, do you get that?” His face is inches away from yours, and the flashlight slips out of your hands and onto the floor as your breath catches in your throat. The radio starts playing the all-too familiar beginning chords of Night Moves , and you can’t bring yourself to do anything but nod. Dean tucks a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I can’t lose you,” he whispers.

“I know,” you reply breathily. You place your hand over his again. “You won’t, De.” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a brief half smile – one that you would have missed had you not been watching his every move. His thumb brushes over your bottom lip with a feather-light touch, and all you can hear is the radio and the rain. 

“Your lips are freezing,” he comments, not-so-subtly (in true Dean fashion). 

“Shame there’s no way to warm them,” you whisper back, biting back a smile. 

“Hm,” he smirks, leaning in. “I can think of a way.”

You close your eyes as his lips meet yours, instantly sending warmth back into your body. Night Moves is still playing, and you ignore the irony as you kiss him back like not freezing to death depends on it. It’s not your first kiss with Dean, but it’s the first one that feels like it really means something, like you could be more than just friends who hook up occasionally. His hands move from your face to your jacket, unzipping it before he helps peel it off your body, your wet skin making everything a thousand times harder. He carelessly throws it into the front seat before his lips move to your neck and he works on getting his own top layer off. He finds your sweet spot right under your ear, one that sends warm shivers down your spine, and then his hands are back on your body, finding their way underneath your soaked shirt, trailing up your sides. His palms feel warm against your skin, and you don’t know if it’s the heat blasting through the vents or the adrenaline pumping through your veins, but you’ve never been hotter. 

The two of you separate for a few seconds and tug off the remainder of your clothes, everything landing in a nice pile on the front seat — muddy boots included. The cleanliness of his car is the last thing Dean is concerned about right now. 

You feel a lot more comfortable naked — meaning, you’re only wet where you want to be now — and you lean back in the seat, your head resting against the door, as Dean hovers over you, taking you in. The flashlight on the ground was your only source of light with the moonlight blocked out by the storm still raging outside. 

“You’re beautiful,” he states, not like an opinion, but like it’s an undeniable fact. Like if you were to look up ‘beautiful’ in the dictionary right now you’d find a picture of your face. 

You smile. “Thank you.”

His finger traces your jaw bone, his thumb gently outlines the scrape on your cheek. “I don’t think it’s gonna scar,” he says. You love it when he’s like this: pure and unfiltered, saying exactly what he’s thinking when he’s thinking it.

You chuckle softly. “Good. Be real ugly if it did.” 

His expression turns serious. “No it wouldn’t.” He states that like it’s a fact too, and you have no choice but to accept it. 

“Okay. It would be pretty badass, I guess,” you concede.

He smiles and nods, leaning down to kiss you softly, quickly, before pulling back and whispering, “Yeah, it would.”

He trails his kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbone, and you catch the next song on the radio — Feels Like the First Time — and roll your eyes and try not to laugh because of course . You’re brought back to the present when Dean’s mouth wraps around your nipple, his tongue flicking over the hardened bud as your hands instantly come to grip his wet hair. 

“Fuck,” you breathe, back arching off the leather seat, and he chuckles softly before releasing you with a ‘pop’. 

“That’s the plan, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes again, but they quickly close as he moves to give your right nipple some attention, gently pinching the other between his thumb and pointer finger. Your moans cause his cock to twitch, and you feel it against your inner thigh, imagining what it must look like right now. 

“Please,” you beg, and you both know exactly what for. He gladly returns his lips to yours, before nestling himself comfortably (or as comfortable as one can get in the backseat of a ‘67 Chevy) between your legs, still damp and sticky from the rain. He kisses you hard as he enters you slowly, and you moan into his mouth as you adjust to his size. Nothing’s ever felt so good. 

“Jesus,” he breathes, pulling away momentarily and bracing himself with one hand on the fogged up window as he bottoms out and stays there, looking down at you like you’re the only thing that matters to him, and right now, you are. “Mm, fuck .” He starts to move, letting his head fall into the crook of your neck, his hot breath and soft groans doing nothing to help stall the tightening coil in your abdomen. “‘m never letting you out of my sight again,” he whispers.

All you can do is nod; he feels so good, you never want him to stop.

“Can’t fuckin’ lose you,” he mumbles, his face coming to hover above yours as he cups your unscathed cheek with his free hand. “You hearin’ me?” He shakes his head. “I can’t.”

You nod again, a little more aggressively this time. “I know, Dean. You won’t,” you reassure him through unsteady breaths. It’s your turn to shake your head. “You won’t.”

You hadn’t noticed his thrusts speeding up, too lost in your emotions until he hits a spot that you didn’t even know you had.

“Oh, fuck ,” you hiss, arching your back. “Fuck, right there.”

He listens, picking up the pace ever so slightly, his lips on your neck again, his heavy pants in your ear. “Shit, sweetheart, you feel so good.” He’s breathing so hard it’s barely audible, but you hear it clear as day, and it’s what brings you to the edge. 

“Fuck, Dean, I’m gonna —”

“Me too, me too.”

And then you’re tensing underneath him as a wave of pleasure washes over you, his cock twitching inside you as he fills you up, and he’s holding himself up on trembling forearms, desperately trying not to collapse on top of you as the exhaustion from the day finally hits you both like a tidal wave. Through heavy breathing you notice that it’s still pouring outside — probably deeming you stuck here on this no name road until it lets up — and that You Shook Me All Night Long is playing on the radio, and you can’t help but giggle softly and shake your head. 

“What?” he questions, confused.

“I think both the weather and the radio are demanding that we go again.”

TAGLIST(S)

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FOREVERS: @writercole // @makeadealwithdean // @slamminmine // @impala1967dwinchester // @wayward-dreamer // @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan // @deandreamernp // @kitkatd7 // @thewritersaddictions // @foxyjwls007 // @kyjey // @boeshaneboy // @besas-stuff // @babypink224221 // @stoneyggirl2 // @440mxs-wife // @sexyvixen7 // @samsgirl93 // @alwayssnivellus // @simpfoegeorge // @ajordan2020

SUPERNATURAL: @deans-baby-momma // @cookiechipdough // @roonyxx // @jassackles // @roseblue373 // @redbarn1995

DEAN WINCHESTER: @perpetualabsurdity // @lyarr24 // @solarrexplosion // @rach5ive // @akshi8278 // @pink-sparkly-witch // @emoryhemsworth // @whore4romance // @themerc-with-a-mouth

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#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #dean winchester #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester fanfiction

[lemoncherrypop]

To Build a Home

seventeen x harry potter au

deatheater!seungcheol x gryffindorprincess!reader summary: The war has finally come and your entire world falls into ruin. After a surprise attack from the Death Eaters, you barely escape with your life and find refuge in a faraway safe house. Everything would have been fine, all things considered, except for the fact that you had fallen right into the snake’s pit. notes: hello :'))) i am back from the dead. i can not apologize enough for the three year hiatus. i went through some family stuff, some mental breakdowns, and also just life in general made me not want to write anymore. but all the messages and comments I've gotten throughout the years have been so heart warming and touching. your words of support have genuinely made me want to get back into this again, so thank you thank you thank you. all your likes, comments and shares really kept me going, sometimes I felt like I was writing into the void, but knowing that others read and enjoyed my story was a very validating and heartwarming feeling. again, I am SOOO sorry for the extremely late update, but if you are still around, I hope you will enjoy this next chapter! i love you all <3 P.S if you prefer AO3 viewing, it will be linked in my Series Masterlist :) word count: 4.3k

Series Masterlist

One l Two l Three l Four l Five l coming soon...

Chapter Five

//

The bed is warm when you wake up, but you can not move.

“If you try to get up, I will incarcerous your ass.”

The air smells bitter and burnt, and it makes you want to gag at how strong it weighs in the air. Blinking past the candlelights, you find Jean sitting in a chair next to your bed.

Groaning, you try and curl your fingers, but you find yourself unable to. Not even needing to look down, you could feel the thick bandages wrapped around your whole chest and the entire length of your left arm.

“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” you grumble, voice feeling raw and dry in your throat. “What the fuck did you do to me?”

“What did I do to you?” 

“I can’t fucking move!”

“I bloody well put you back together in one piece!” Jean snapped and you can’t remember the last time you’ve seen so much anger in your friend’s eyes. “You nearly got yourself killed, and you’re complaining about a couple of bandages?!”

“A couple is enough to render me completely useless?!”

“You’re not useless.” Jean rolls her eyes. “You’re just forced into recuperation.”

“Well, it’d be fucking nice if I could at least scratch my nose.” You scrunch your nose unpleasantly.

“Your right arm still works, you know.”

“Oh.” You blink. “Right.”

Jean sighs deeply and goes back to focusing on something on your night table. Feeling awkward, you stretch out your right arm the best you can and reach up to scratch the itch on the bridge of your nose.

“What’s that?” You point at the stack of small withered leather pouches and tiny vials of potions.

She lets out a grunt of frustration. “It’s your medicine. You lost so much blood, I thought you turned into a bloody ghost.”

“Well, blame that on—”

“It’s both of your faults,” Jean cuts you off with a sharp glare. “Don’t go blaming Seungcheol when you put him in an equally bad position.”

You can’t help but smirk at the news. “He strapped down onto his bed just like me?”

Glass bottles click and clatter as Jean slams down your medicine. “Wake up! This was all meant for training, not to cut each other’s throats and bleed each other dry.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn away to avoid her glare. “Did you give him the same lecture?”

“I’m serious, can’t you just listen to me?” 

“It’d be nice to not, but I don’t think I have a choice.”

She scoffs. “We’re not at school anymore. There’s no more petty house rivalry, no house points to fight over, or exams to stress over. We’re on the same side of the war, we can’t keep fighting with the boys.”

“Don’t be a fool.” You snap back at her with furrowed brows. “You want me to trust these boys? Thought you were supposed to be the smart one—”

A click— the door opens and Wonwoo walks in as if he were coming in like routine.

“Ah,” he says in quiet surprise. “You’re up?”

A brow quirks. “What are you doing in my room?”

Jean clicks her tongue and goes back to refilling your medication.

He holds up an amber glass bottle. “To heal you back into a functioning human.”

You place your good arm under the back of your head and prop yourself up a little to get a better view of your two housemates.

“Jean’s already got my medicine here.” You nod over to the glass vials on your night table.

“Yes, but this one—” Wonwoo holds it closer to your face, the clear glass has no label but contains a sticky, thick liquid. “—is for those cuts that Seungcheol gave you.”

“Of course,” you groan, rolling your eyes. “Even the cuts he gave me aren’t ordinary. I need a special potion just for that?”

Wonwoo takes a seat at the end of your bed. “You lost a lot of blood.”

“A lot.” Jean glowers.

“Stop worrying,” you chide. “I feel fine!” You cough, embarrassingly, your throat still raw and dry.

“Fine my fucking arse,” Jean curses, and you know she’s truly mad because when was the last time your friend has ever cursed? “Fine isn’t being completely incapacitated for days. I had no idea when you would even wake up.”

“Wait a sec—” Your forehead wrinkles as your face contorts into confusion. “How long have I been out?”

“Only three days,” Wonwoo sighs, and uncorks the bottle in his hand. “He’s just as immobile as you, thought you’d be interested to know.”

“That is good to know.” You can’t help the grin spreading on your face. Jean’s scowl only deepens.

A cup is conjured out of thin air, and Wonwoo pours some of the amber liquid into it. “This is going to be hard to swallow, but drink the whole thing, okay?” He hands you the cup.

It looks even darker in the cup and moves like molasses. “And what is this supposed to help with? All the blood that I lost?”

“It’s to make sure your wounds heal completely,” Jeans explains. “Unfortunately… you won’t be able to get rid of the scars, but at least they’ll be completely closed.”

“That spell he used on you…” Wonwoo says quietly, his face looking serious as he tries to word it properly in his head before saying it out loud. “It’s— it’s not a spell to take lightly. Obviously, it would have been best to use the counterspell right after you got hit, but you continued fighting—”

“Absolute blockheads, the both of you!”

“— and the lacerations only went deeper and deeper as they spread. It’ll take a few days of rest before you’re fully healed, but just hold your nose when you take the potion because it—”   

“Tastes like fucking shit!” You gag.

“— tastes pretty awful…”

//

Mandatory bed rest for the rest of the week.

Those were the orders from apparently everyone else in the house. Sneaking out was not an option because there was a spell that made the entire house ring when you tried to sneak out. It was equally both embarrassing and frustrating, seeing as how you couldn’t even take a piss without having Jean come over to help you over to the bathroom.

The only good thing about being imprisoned inside your own room was Wonwoo’s cup of tea. 

He brought you a cup of tea every morning. Earl grey. Always piping hot, and with just enough cream and sugar to make anyone else’s tongue curl from the sweetness.

It was the perfect cup of tea.

The damn snake was slowly creeping his way up your ladder that goes from enemies to acquaintances to just barely being friends. He was still low on the ladder though, just marginally above the other snakes.

But the cup of tea did nothing to make you feel any better. Any less useless.

The wounds have healed completely when you finished up the rest of the amber liquid, and the bandages were finally all released with permission from Wonwoo and Jean, but no one allowed you back into another round of dueling. Not yet at least. They all said it's because you needed more time to get better, but you knew it was because they all thought you weren’t mentally stable enough to go back.

“You almost died!” You remember wincing in pain when Jean readjusted your bandages. 

No matter how many times you insisted that you were feeling better and thinking more clearly, she stayed firm in her decision. 

“Not. Yet.”

You can only hope that the same was happening to Seungcheol.

//

Minghao sips on his glass and the candlelight illuminates the grimace on his face. “This is not what I meant when I said they wouldn’t be able to keep their hands off each other.”

“I was hoping they’d just fuck each other’s brains out,” Mingyu shrugs. “But I guess this is another way of them taking their anger out on each other.”

“How could you joke like that when they both nearly died?” Trinh scowls, smacking the back of his head for the comment.

“Hey!” Mingyu rubs his head with a groan. “You think I wanted that to happen? I nearly shit myself when I saw the amount of blood in here!” He shudders dramatically. “But they’re both healed now, yeah?”

“Doesn’t make the situation any better.” Trinh tiredly rubs her eyes. “We can never pair them up again for training. I refuse to clean up that much blood again.”

“The reality is,” Minghao sighs, reaching over to pet her hair. “They fucking hate each other. I’m sure they’ll find another excuse to get into another bloody fight.”

“As much as I hated the fight as well, I can’t say that I’m not surprised.” Mingyu sighs. “This was a fight years in the making. We put those two together without any supervision of the professors, and what did we expect? Sunshine and chocolate frogs?”

“Their fighting in Hogwarts was child’s play compared to this,” Trinh groans, looking more tired by the second.

She shifts in her chair just enough for her to lean her head on Minghao’s shoulder, and he suddenly laughs. “Remember that time he spiked her ale with some babbling beverage right before potions class?”

A light chuckle comes from Mingyu. “Or that time she used locomotor mortis right before he leaned in for his first kiss with that Gryffindor girl and he fell right into her breasts?”

Minghao throws his head back with a loud snort. “Then there was that brilliant prank where he charmed her quill to write everything backwards during our O.W.L.S!”

“See? I’m telling you, they just need to fuck.” Mingyu lays his finger on the table to make his point. “They’ve already beat each other bloody.”

Minghao’s laughter slowly fades until his smile is no more, and reaches for his glass again. “Yeah, but he’s not the same boy as before.” He takes a final swig and downs the whole drink. “He’s changed.”

“We’ve all changed.”

Their heads all snap up to see Wonwoo standing at the end of their table. Minghao grimaces, and all traces of laughter have disappeared from his face. Looking forlornly into his half-empty glass, Mingyu stays silent as well.

“Done drinking for tonight?” He asks the trio, looking just as solemn as his crew of snakes.

Trinh throws her head back to finish hers and slams it back on the table. “Now I am.” 

Mingyu holds up an empty glass for Wonwoo in offerance. “How are they doing? Still, being stubborn?

Wonwoo declines with a shake of his head and sits down to join them. “I don’t know what I expected from either of them,” he sighs. “She’s still fighting tooth and nail to get out of the room, and Seungcheol’s… well, you know how he gets when he’s moody.”

“Got the temper of a five-year-old.” Trinh shakes her head.

“But thankfully the medications are working well,” Wonwoo continues. “Wounds are pretty much all healed. I still think they need more time to mentally recover from their fight.”

“I’ve got high hopes for the Princess, but Seungcheol? Like that stubborn dickhead has any space in his thick skull to even comprehend how to do that.”

“Mingyu.” Wonwoo places a firm grip on his shoulder. “We’ve got to do something. He can’t keep going on like this, he’s only going to get worse.”

“Well, what do you suggest then?” Mingyu snaps. “Like he’ll listen to any of us. 

Minghao’s expression is grim. “I’m afraid the only way he’ll get any better is if he is dead, my friend.”

//

Days and weeks flew by in the cottage and the house was slowly coming into action once again. Mingyu and Jean were still flirting around in every room, Trinh could be found giggling away with Minghao whilst pretending to not care about anyone else. 

And yet, you haven’t exchanged a single word with Seungcheol. It was harder than you expected, pretending like someone doesn’t exist under the same roof as you, but you were determined to see past him like a ghost. Unsurprisingly, he had shown you the same courtesy. Seungcheol even ate his meals alone in his room or in the room down in the basement.

Walking around the house post near-death-fight was an even bigger pain than before. There was an unspoken mutual agreement between the two of you, and that was to be completely oblivious to each other’s existence. Although the entire household was pushing for the both of you to make amends, it was clear that they have all underestimated both your stubbornness. You bet you could go months, maybe even years, pretending like Seungcheol didn’t exist within the same home as you.

While the lack of contact with the miserable imp was nice, the tension still weighed heavy in the air, and you knew it was beginning to suffocate the others as well. But as much as you felt bad for your housemates, they were the ones who forced you into this whole situation in the first place.

And so, he continued to act as if you were nothing but an echo in the hallways. He didn’t even sneer or frown, or show any physical signs of threats or discomfort. He simply acted as if you didn’t exist.

And you were fine with that.

Until, well, everyone else wasn’t.

//

The night hung heavy, and the moon cast a haunting glow on the house as you readied for sleep. You were seconds away from slipping under your covers when a timid knock echoed from your door. Wearily, you trudged over to answer, revealing a Wonwoo poised to knock again.

“Wonwoo?”

“Hi.”

“Can I help you?”

Wonwoo’s arms fall to his sides, his body rigid and expression wavering with hesitance. It was clear from his eyes that he was unsure of his presence at your door, especially at this late hour.

The past few weeks have admittedly been easier with the help of Wonwoo’s presence. He took care of you in little ways that you did not expect. He brought medicine with a cup of hot tea on the side for you every day. He would accompany you in silent book readings in the common room, discreetly sitting across from you in your favorite armchair to keep you company. And whenever you felt yourself about to be overcome with anxiety, somehow, almost miraculously, Wonwoo would appear to chase that sinking feeling of fear in your chest away.

Most times, he would ask if you’d like to accompany him in some tasks, like baking muffins for breakfast the next day, or flying on the broomsticks to help clean up the roof, or even picking flowers outside to make bouquets around the cottage.

Other times, he would make you a cup of tea and simply just sit by your side. He would make small talk if you felt like talking, but if you didn’t, he would just sit in silence with you. Sometimes, you would sit in silence for so long that your tea would grow cold, but by the time you noticed, Wonwoo had already gotten up to make you a fresh cup of tea to replace the cold one in your hands.

He had such a keen sense of your anxieties, you wondered if it was because he had the same fears as you.

A heavy sigh escapes you, heart feeling pity for the boy who has diligently stayed by your side everyday since the duel. “What is it?” Your voice is soft, speaking low to not be heard by others. “I was just about to go to sleep.”

“Oh— I’ll come back another night then—”

“Nonsense. Come inside.”

“I… I don’t want to take up too much of your time…”

“You spent the past three weeks putting me back together. You are allowed some of my time.”

He still seems hesitant. A jitteriness that was now making you nervous.

“What is it?” You ask in a tense whisper. “Did you get any news? Has someone else—”

“No! No, not at all,” He waves his hands quickly, immediately banishing the thought of losing yet another classmate. “I just— well, I’m not sure if this may come as a shock to you, but you must know that your fight with Seungcheol is making everyone else in the house deeply uncomfortable—”

You let out a deep sigh of relief.  “Is this what you came in the middle of the night for?” Turning your back on him, you wave your hand back, motioning for him to leave your room. “Go to bed, Wonwoo.”

He grabs your left hand, making you halt in your tracks. Turning to face him, you saw the strain etched into his expression. His other hand pauses for a second before reaching over to pull up your sleeve. “Look at what's happened to you.”

Your hand whips out of his and you bring the sleeve down in a defensive rage. “What are you here for, Wonwoo?” You demand this time.

He gathers in a shaky breath as if he were afraid to speak another word out loud. “Have you ever heard of that spell?” His voice drops to a whisper, making sure that you are the only one that can hear him. “That was dark magic, nothing like what we were ever taught in school. Who do you think taught him that spell?”

“You think I care where you learned all your demented spells from?”

“Well you should! I know there’s been a difficult history between our houses, but we’re all here together now. We’re all classmates here, why can’t you just—”

“Just what? Want me to pretend like everythings okay? Like the outside world isn’t burning up all around us? Want me to forget what he’s done to me?”

“I’m not asking for you to forgive him or any of us, but I am asking you to just… accept the situation that we’re all in. Whether you like it or not, we are on the same side now.”

“Acceptance doesn’t come that easily, it’s something to be earned.”

His face falls.  “Haven’t I?” Wonwoo’s eyes turn soft, yearning and desperate. “I was hoping that— that at least I am…”

Your heart clenches with guilt. “No… you’re right.” Shaking your head, you reach over to grab his hands in yours. “You’ve— you’ve been a great friend to me the past few weeks, and I can’t ever deny that, it wouldn’t be fair to you.”

His shoulders relax, and he gently returns your grasp. Giving him a faint smile, you guide him into your room as he quietly closes the door behind him. Taking a seat together on your bed, facing each other, a sense of solemnity settles between you.

“This situation in the house…” Wonwoo’s voice is still cautious. “I felt like I needed to come to you, and tell you… if you and Seungcheol continue on this way, it will break us all apart.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes.

“People are starting to walk on eggshells around here, and it’s because of you two.”

“Did you give him the same talk, or are you just lecturing me?” You snap, unable to hold down your annoyance at how everyone’s been treating you since the duel. That loathsome fuck was the one who almost killed you, and yet everyone’s coming to you to try and make amends?

“Oh, trust me,” Wonwoo almost chuckles. “He’s getting lectured by both Mingyu and Hao. You got the lucky end of the stick.”

You bit back a smile at that.

“But you know it’s true. We have to split up with dueling practice, we don’t gather anymore to hear Jun’s nightly news, and we just eat our meals separately now. There needs to be some unity between us in order for us to work together.”

A bitter laugh escapes you. “Since when did you become so pragmatic?”

“I’ve always been,” he responds in exasperation. “I might be friends with those idiots, but don’t lump me in with their antics.”

“You’ve revealed your true self to me six years too late,” You say wryly. 

Wonwoo reaches over to grasp your hands again. “I know, and that’s exactly why I refuse to let this chance slip away.” His look is so serious, your smile drops. “Besides, haven’t you ever noticed? I was always the one to pull the boys out of the fights.”

You pause, genuinely considering his words. “I can’t say I have.”

Wonwoo scoffs lightly. “Course not. Your attention was always elsewhere.”

“Like where?” You raise a brow.

“You know where,” he raises a brow back at you. “But now your attention is needed here. I came here because I need you to understand.”

“Understand what, Wonwoo.” Frustration starts to build. “That we’re all in this together now? That we aren’t enemies anymore because we’re fighting on the same side? I get it,” Your voice is dripping with sarcasm. “I still hate the bloody ass, but we’re stuck in this damned house for the same reason.”

The corner of his lips quirk up. “Glad to see that you’re not in denial anymore, but it’s important you know why we ran away in the first place.”

“Because your malevolent Dark Lord is out there murdering people left and right?”

“You’re not wrong,” he says, his eyes darkening. “Believe me when I say that even his most devoted followers feared him. It might have seemed like we were just taking Dark Magic lessons from the Death Eaters, but we were prisoners there. We— we were taught all these different ways to torture, sometimes even forced—”

Your face contorts in confusion, a sick feeling starting to settle in your stomach. “Have you ever…”

“Never.” He shuts you down before you could finish your question. “But… we came close a few times.”

Your hands draw away from his as a chill runs down your spine. Wonwoo looks ashamed, his hands clenched into fists.

“They trained us to be like them. They wanted us to just be another soldier. They taught us how to fight, how to torture, how to kill. They tried to poison our minds.”

A familiar panic starts to fill in his eyes, and guilt washes over you. The fear you’ve developed since running away from the Death Eaters was nothing in comparison to what he went through. How could anyone come out of that normal?

“They made us watch every night. We watched every single muggle, muggle-born or “traitor” be tortured until death. The Death Eaters were creative for sure, I watched some of their bodies be twisted in ways they shouldn’t and others lose their sanity. And on nights where the Eaters had a bit too much to drink, they would make us test the curses out on each other.”

A silence falls on your face, horror-stricken.

“One night… I saw him, Seokmin’s father. I recognized him from the platform before boarding the train. Seokmin looked just like him, the same eyes and smile… I had no idea he was a Muggle. I tried to help him escape.”

Your hands finds his again, gripping his fingers, apologetic for pulling away in the first place. The panic slowly rising in Wonwoo’s eyes.

“I had no idea he was a muggle,” he repeats, the pained look in his eyes begging you to believe him. “I thought we were almost out, but I got caught. Cicero— he was the one who caught me.”

His fingers felt cold in your hands.

“That was the last time I saw his father,” he murmurs. “And Cicero took me away.”

He pulls one hand up to his buttons on his shirt, a slight tremble as he starts to undo them. “Right here,” he guides one of your hands up to the center of his chest. “Is where I have the same scars as you.”

Your heart shatters at the revelation.

He laughs bitterly as you trail your fingers down his disfigured skin. “We all have them. Mingyu has them on his chest as well. Minghao is growing his hair longer to hide the ones on his back, and Seungcheol…” he shakes his head.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I never knew… I never imagined… the things you’ve been through,” your words fracture, not knowing what to say.

He’s back to smiling, a maddening reassurance you know he’s trying to give you despite the panic still in his eyes.

“Jean and I may have mended you back together, but Seungcheol cast the counterspell. He’s the one that saved you.”

“Seungcheol? But he’s the one who—”

“I know,” he nods. “He’s the one who used it on you in the first place, but when you were bleeding out in the common room, shirt torn apart and lifeless, it woke something back up in him.”

You shook your head, not saying anything. You didn’t want to believe him, but there was a quiet stirring in your head.

“He was the Dark Lord’s favorite. He trained the most out of all of us, the Dark Lord wanted to use him for his plans, and after months and months of enduring his training… he just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Tears start welling up in his eyes, his voice a mere whisper. “Something inside him… just snapped.” A tear falls from his face. “He didn’t want to kill the headmaster, but he had no choice. He had to. My closest friend is broken now because of it, and— and I don’t know how to fix him.”

Your chest crumples at the sight before you.

“He’s made the Unbreakable Vow.” Wonwoo reveals. “I needed you to understand. He just wanted to live.”

#scoups scenarios #seungcheol scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen #scoups fic #seungcheol fic #harry potter au #seventeen x harry potter #seventeen harry potter au #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo fic #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo angst

[cod-dump]

Imagine ghost and soap are in the field, ghost is sniping, and he sees a hostile that looks too much like Johnny, and for the first time in a long time, he hesitates to take the shot. When he looks at the body afterwards, he can see the clear differences. The hair is wrong, the nose-shape is off, the jaw is too rounded, there aren’t scars where johnnys are. But in that moment, staring through his scope at Not-Johnny, his heart stops. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink. Once he hears soap’s voice bleed in through their comms, he comes back to reality, and takes the shot.

Later that same night, tucked away in their tiny safe-house, ghost watches soap while he sleeps. Traces a finger along his cheek. Presses his fingertips into soaps pulse-point, proving to himself that Johnny is still alive. That he wasn’t killed by Simon’s hand.

So you do like me…

I like you alive.

He does. He loves him (alive).

—🗡️

It’s happened only twice. Panic shooting through him upon seeing that face cross his scope. The first time he shot without hesitation, freezing in horror of the appearance of the man he killed. Only an hour later when he was able to leave his perch was he able to determine that it wasn’t him.

That he didn’t kill Soap.

The second time he froze as the man crossed his sight. He had the same build, the same hair, but he wore the enemy colors. When the man turned around Ghost was almost fooled. But then he looked at him closer, seeing that his face shape wasn’t the same, the his skin was less marred with scars. He took the shot but uncertainty plagued him until he heard Soap over the radio.

“Looking good on the ground, LT. How’s it look from your perch?”

Ghost had to swallow to wet his dry throat before replying, “Looks good from here. Taking out stragglers.”

Later when they were able to regroup, Ghost had to stop himself from staring at Soap. They made it to the safe house, made sure their men were fed and cared for, before retiring into Ghost’s room. The safe house had enough space for both of them to have their own bed but Ghost just wordlessly grabbed Soap’s hand and pulled him with him. Soap followed, no comment or resistance.

They laid in bed together, Soap snuggled into his side. Ghost fell asleep, the adrenaline from the mission finally gone from his body. But he would not rest easy.

He could see the enemy charging. He shot the man dead, approaching him to make sure he stayed that way. But peering down at him, seeing a all too familiar face. Blue eyes wide open with the look of betrayal in them.

Ghost was startled awake. He was breathing heavy as he looked around the room, finally turning to look at the still sleeping Soap. He reached over, his finger brushing the man’s warm cheek before sliding under his nose to feel his breath. Then he moved down and felt his pulse. Ghost heaved out in relief, turning and pulling Soap closer to him.

Soap instinctively nuzzled his head under Ghost’s chin, still asleep as Ghost held him, shaking. Ghost tucked his nose into Soap’s hair and swallowed, unable to fall back asleep.

#🗡️ #call of duty #cod mwii #modern warfare ii #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #soapghost #ghostsoap #ask #thanks for the ask <3 #modern warfare

[wordsaresimple-imnot]

That final line - Joe Liebgott x F!Reader

Summary: Things have changed between Joe and Reader after bearing witness to the Concentration camp. They moved from being best friends to something more emotionally intimate. Now that the war in Europe is over will they cross the last line and become physically intimate?

Warnings: 18+ content (smut, p in v) angst-ish (mentions of war & concentration camp), comforting each other, tooth rotting fluff at end, she/her pronouns (no use of y/n or 1st person POV, but told from Liebgott's perspective sorta).

A/N: I have the biggest respect for the real life heroes of WWII (and all other wars, past & current), this work & all other works is based on the actor(s) and character(s) portrayed in the Band of Brothers series.

A/N pt 2: I love how this turned out. Basically this is just my own self-indulgence wish that I could have held and taken care of Liebgott after that scene of him crying in the truck. As always, let me know what you think! I tried a different writing perspective and I like it, hopefully you do too. Comments, likes, and reblogs make me happy and feel validated!

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

Joe Liebgott would forever be a different man. Easy Company had just liberated Kaufering IV but that included locking the poor souls back up for the medics to be able to try and get them back from the brink of death. The whole thing had left Joe feeling broken and full of pure rage and despair he didn't know how to get rid of it. So he grabbed a bottle of wine and wondered till he found a tree isolated enough he wouldn't easily be found. He just needed space.

He'd been alone for hours, judging by how low the sun was hanging, bottle long since empty, and eyes sore and dry from tears when he heard a twig snap. Looking around the tree, his heart both swelled and shattered at the sight of the person walking towards him. She was his best friend, been that way since Toccoa and all through the war thus far. The only person that could calm him down when his hot-headedness got the better of him and always had his back in every combat situation. He never had to worry when she was around. She was also the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen and had long since accepted that his heart would always speed up a little when she was in eyesight. While his heart had the usual reaction at seeing her, he couldn't help but feel broken anew at the sadness on her face and emptiness in her eyes. He wasn't the only one tore up from their recent experience.

"I've been looking for you everywhere." She speaks barely above a whisper as she drops down next to him, already leaning against his arm.

"I'm sorry, I just had to get away for a while. I should have found you and brought you with me." He leans over to drop a kiss on the top of her head.

There's a beat of silence and then she speaks again, still in a low whisper, "Do you think they'll make it?"

The words are a dagger to his already bruised and bleeding heart. He gives a small sniff, trying to hold back the fresh tears.

"I don't know." He feels her turn her body towards him and knows she's taking in his appearance detail by detail.

"You can let it out, Joe. I know this is tearing you up. Please don't hold it in and let it destroy you." One hand grasps his while the other gently takes his chin and turns his head so their eyes meet. He tries to push the emotions back down and come up with something to say, but he loses all resolve when her hand moves to cup his cheek and wipe away a stray tear that falls out.

Joe is suddenly wrapping his arms around her, pressing his face in the crook of her neck and letting it all out. He feels her shift them so he's laying mostly on her, her back against the tree and arms tightly wrapped around him. One hand is gripping the back of his jacket tightly, holding him to her, the other is gently stroking his head, and when he feels the side of his face getting wet he knows she's crying too.

They stay like that for hours, until the sun is nearly gone and all tears have been let out. Even after the tears, they don't move, finding too much comfort in holding each other. The only thing that gets them finally moving is their stomachs growling. Joe gets up first, holding his hand out to help her up and starts walking them back to find some food. He looks down briefly when he feels her intertwine their fingers and give his hand a squeeze. The first smile he's had in days makes it way across his face and he squeezes her hand back.

As the days dragged on ahead, their bond grew even tighter. There was a new level of safety and vulnerability that blossomed. Hands would brush more often, hugs turned tighter and longer, if they were able to they'd often be found napping together tangled limbs and all. It was as natural as breathing to seek the other out and before Joe knew it, he was hit with the realization that he was head-over-heels in love with his best friend.

The popping of yet another champagne bottle drags Joe from his mulling and takes in the sight around him with a smile. They are in the Eagles Nest, the war in Europe is over and everyone is finally able to relax and celebrate. He's sitting by Webster and Perco, watching the other's talk and laugh, already more than a little drunk. His smile widens when he catches her eye, sitting next to Malarkey and they salute each other from across the room.

"You ever gonna make a move, Lieb?" Perco's question lands like a bomb right in his stomach.

"What the hell are you talking about?" He looks at the man next to him like he's crazy, but inside he's frantic. Is it that obvious?

"Oh come on, Liebgott. The two of you have been attached at the hip the whole war, even back at training. We've all noticed the stolen looks between you. The wars over, just go for it." Webster gives him a shove, pointedly ignoring the glare Joe shoots at him.

"I gotta take a leak." Joe abruptly stands and leaves before either of them can continue their pestering. They're right, he knows they're right. Since accepting his feelings, the only thing that's been holding him back has been the on-going war. Sure there's still Japan to figure out but right now, their immediate part is over and he doesn't have to worry about dying and leaving her or worse losing her any second to a bullet or bomb.

Not actually needing the bathroom, he finds himself wondering the halls of the Eagles Nest and randomly picking a room to go into. It's spacious with a sitting area, a large comfortable bed sitting against the back wall, a door leading to an adjoining bathroom next to it and doors to the right leading to a balcony. He heads to the balcony, throwing the doors open and leans against the railing taking in the mountains and open valley. It's so quiet and peaceful, he doesn't know how to reconcile it with the horrors the owner and occupants have done to the people of this land.

"Why am I always having to search for you?" A soft, happy voice speaks behind him. Joe turns around and feels his breathe catch in his throat at how beautiful and easy going she looks, leaning around the doorframe to the balcony. When he didn't respond, she stands up a little straighter. "What? Is there something on my face?"

Joe shakes his head and moves to stand in-front of her, raising his hand to trail a finger down her cheek. "You're beautiful."

"How drunk are you?" Her voice is playful, but Joe knew his words were having an effect on her based on the blush she now had.

"Not even tipsy. But drunk or sober, you're still beautiful." His hand cups her cheek, tilts her head up a little to fully meet his eyes and he decides to cross that final line. "I love you. I love you fully and completely; body, mind, and soul. I need you, more than I need to breathe. If you don't feel the same, that's fine. I will lock my heart away to keep you in my life however you wish to be. But the war here is done and I'm out of reasons to not tell you how I feel. Tell me you don't feel the same and I'll respect that, but if you feel even close to what I feel please let me know."

Joe see's tears form in her eyes and for a heartbreaking second he's sure she's going to tell him 'no' and walk away. Then he feels her hands on his face and holds his breathe as she rises on her toes, stopping when her lips are barely brushing his.

"I love you, Joe. I'm yours; body, mind and soul." And then her lips are pressing against his and Joe thinks he's died and gone to heaven.

Their kiss is passionate and slow, taking full advantage that they don't have to rush and can take their time exploring. Joe starts nudging her backwards, back into the main room and towards the bed. A line of clothes marks their path as they help each other be rid of them, kissing freshly exposed shoulders and necks as they go. Soon enough they've managed to be rid of everything and tumble onto the bed in a heap.

Joe leans back just enough to take in the site of her underneath him. Face flushed, lips swollen and glossy from kissing, hair spread out like a halo, chest rising and falling hard as she tries to catch her breathe. He leans his head down pressing kisses to her neck, trailing down her collarbone, around the swell of her breast and ending at her nipple. He takes his time delivering languid licks and sucks, making her skin pucker and rise. Not wanting to leave the other one out of the fun, his hand cups, massages and pinches a little on the flesh there, his other hand hasn't stopped caressing any part of her skin he can reach.

If he has any doubts of how he's making her feel, the gasps and moans falling from her lips dispel them quickly. Soon enough her hands are in his hair and scratching down his back as she wraps her legs around his waist pulling him closer. Joe stops his minstrations on her breast with a groan when his erection is pressed right against her wet core and he can't help but roll his hips into her again. This time they both moan.

"Joe, please. I need you." Her voice is ragged and the lustful look in her eyes almost has him finishing right then. He shifts to the side a little, giving him room to run his hand down her side and cup her core. She's soaking and his brain short circuits a little.

His fingers make quick work of making sure she is coated properly, detouring to her clit to rub until she starts to whimper and pull at him. As he meets her eyes, he raises his fingers to his lips and sucks her taste off of them.

"Goddamn, baby. Next time I'm spending hours down there." He rushes out as he positions himself at her entrance. "But if I don't have you soon, I might die." He looks at her for confirmation that she's ready and when she nods, he starts pushing in slowly.

They groan together at the feel of him sliding into place like a puzzle piece coming home. Once he's bottomed out, he drops down to his elbows, putting more of himself on top of her and rests his forehead against hers. Her thighs tighten around him as she turns her head to kiss him.

"Move. Please." She bites his bottom lip at the same time she scratches his back again.

"Yes ma'am." He presses his lips firmly to her, swallowing the moan she lets out as he pulls out and quickly snaps back in. He finds a steady rhythm, angling his hips just right so he's brushing that sweet spot within her. Her back bows, pressing her chest further into his and exposes her neck to his lips. He doesn't waste any time placing a hard bite where it'll be hard to hide the mark already forming. This spurs something in her and soon her hands are in his hair, tugging his head to the side as she returns the favor.

Joe can tell she starts to get close to her release, as her walls start fluttering around him and her moans start becoming more frequent. He raises himself up, gripping the headboard with one hand and dropping his other hand down to rub her clit.

"I know you're close baby. Look at me as you let go." His voice is deep and commanding. Her eyes immediately lock onto his and his movements pick up speed. A few more hard thrusts and a pinch on her clit and she's moaning his name and clamping down around him. The feeling of her combined with his name falling from her lips like a prayer has him falling right behind her.

As they come down from their highs, they exchange slow kisses and 'I love you's'.

Bonus scene:

Not wanting to waste a beautiful day, the guys had decided to have an impromptu baseball game. Joe stood in his spot, waiting to bat next, sending a smile and wave to the stands where his girl was watching and cheering. They were getting ready for the next play when Winters came strolling across the field. They all crowded around him, fully expecting to hear their deployment orders for fighting Japan. Instead he was giving them the best news they'd heard since VE day. Japan had surrendered. The war, all of it, was finally over.

All the guys started cheering, exchanging hugs and pats on the backs. Joe see's her coming towards them at an easy jog, a curious look on her face. He gives her the biggest smile and runs right up to her, lifting her in his arms and spins her around.

"Japan surrendered. It's over. We're going home." Her smile matches his as she fully takes in his words and hugs him back. Just as quick as it started, Joe stops spinning her and sets her down on her feet, then he's down on one knee, holding her hands.

"Marry me. Come back home with me. Or wherever you wanna live. I don't care. Just marry me, please." Everything dulls around the edges as he holds his breathe, waiting for her response.

"Yes, Joe!" She smiles bright enough to blind the sun and then starts laughing when he jumps back up and starts spinning her around again. The only sound is the cheering of their friends and their hearts beating in sync.

#joe liebgott #joe liebgott x reader #band of brothers #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #hbo war #hbo band of brothers

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Two

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

wc: 2.6k

My hands go to their wounds and I try to stop the bleeding. But there's too much blood, there's too much.

A tapping on my shoulder wakes me up, and I open my eyes to see Lucas' shadow standing in front of me. He's clutching his plush dinosaur close to his chest. He probably had a nightmare or something. I rub the sleep from my eyes and sit up, facing him.

"What's up tough guy?" I whisper and grab him, sitting him next to me on the bed. I turn on my bedside lamp and see that he's been crying. With careful hands, I wipe his tears and wait for him to tell me what's wrong. His bottom lip trembles and his eyebrows are drawn tightly together.

"The noises." He says through staggered breaths. He starts crying again and I bring him in close to me, hugging him tightly against my body as he cries. My fingers rake through his hair in an attempt to calm him down, and try to listen for anything out of the ordinary.

There are police sirens nearby, maybe down the street? Which is odd, seeing as how they were there when I fell asleep. A few moments later I hear helicopters overhead, sounds like there might be two or three but I can't tell for sure. An uneasy pit in my stomach surfaces, and I nudge Ryan awake. That man can sleep through anything, so it's no surprise Lucas' presence didn't disturb him.

Ryan groans and rubs his eyes, squinting them open in the soft light. He sees Lucas and I on the bed and sits up, suddenly alert.

"What's wrong?" He asks, clearing his throat. I usually never wake him up when Lucas comes to our room, unless Lucas specifically asks for his dad to put him back to bed.

"The noises." I repeat Lucas' words to Ryan, giving him a pointed stare as to tell him I am also concerned. Ryan must hear the sirens and he pushes the covers away, going over to our bedroom window to pull the curtains back so he can see outside.

"Holy shit." He sounds surprised, and I am as well. Ryan never swears in front of Lucas. Quickly, Ryan pulls the curtains back and I hug Lucas into my body, so that he can't see the silent conversation that I'm having with Ryan. A simple shared glance is enough to tell me that something is wrong. My heart drops to my stomach, but I force myself to stay composed for Lucas.

Ryan opens our closet and grabs our travel bags, unzipping them on the bed. His intense demeanor lets me know that something is seriously wrong, Ryan is always laid back and typically underreacts to situations. So if he's openly packing our bags, something is incredibly wrong. And I'm willing to bet the police sirens and helicopters have a lot to do with whatever is happening.

I grab Lucas and carry him through the house, sitting him on his bed and drying his tears once more. He sucks in sharp breaths between cries and holds his beloved plushie to his chest. I smile at him, trying to act casual and collected. I rearrange his hair and kiss his forehead,

"Do you want to see if you can go potty for me? I'll give you whatever sticker you want." I encourage him to use the bathroom before we leave, and I know he loves his reward for using the bathroom "like a big boy" he says. He nods his head and toddles off to the bathroom, giving me time to find a bag for him.

My hands shake as I open his closet and grab a duffel bag we use for his travelling needs. I set it on his bed and go through his wardrobe, picking short sleeved shirts, long sleeved shirts, long pants, short pants, pajamas, and plenty of extra socks and underwear. Luckily, his clothing is small and I can fit almost all of it in the bag. I don't know where we're going or how long we'll be gone, but I want to be sure Lucas will be taken care of. I zip the duffel bag and grab an old diaper bag out of his closet, packing some pull-ups for emergencies if we need them and make room to pack some snacks for him.

While Lucas is still in the bathroom, I make my way to the kitchen and pack his favorite puff snacks, fruit snacks, and anything else I know he likes that won't go bad in the bag. For good measure, I pack some water bottles as well. When I return to Lucas' room he's back from the bathroom and I smile, picking him back up with trembling hands.

"Good job buddy! Let's go pick out your sticker." I say with false excitement and grab the sticker book that sits atop his dresser. I flip through the pages and let him pick his favorite one and I stick it on his shirt. He smiles down at the sticker as I place him back on the ground.

I grab one of his jackets and help him put it on, and I make sure he's got a good pair of socks on his feet. Knowing he hates wearing shoes, I put his little slip-ons on, knowing that if I can help it, he'll be attached to my hip and won't have to do much, if any, walking on his own.

I toss the diaper bag on my shoulder and grab the duffel bag in one hand, and hoist up Lucas on my free side. Encumbered by the bags and my son, I meet Ryan out in the living room, who looks terrified. He rubs his hands through his hair and paces back and forth, blowing out a sharp breath. Lucas has his head resting on my shoulder and Ryan gives me a wide-eyed look before he speaks in a low voice.

"Don't let him see what's out there, cover his eyes. When we walk out of the door, keep your eyes on my back. Please trust me on this one, Noelle. Put the bags in the trunk and sit with Lucas in the backseat. The quicker we can get out of here, the better." I don't think twice to question him, knowing that his judgment is sound in this moment. I lick my lips and swallow the bile rising in my throat, ready to follow Ryan. He takes a deep breath and grabs our bags before he goes to the front door. It looks like he takes a moment to hype himself up to open the door, but once he does, all hell breaks loose.

I hear sirens and see the flashing lights down on our street. People are screaming.

"Hey buddy look at me okay? We're going on a surprise vacation!" My voice wavers as I speak, but I need Lucas to keep his eyes on me. His grip tightens on my shirt, he's scared of what he hears. I look over to him and meet his watery blue eyes, pushing all signs of fear off of my face.

Ryan opens the trunk of our car and loads our bags into it, taking both bags off of me while I keep Lucas' attention with whatever words I can find. Once the bags are off my shoulder, I waste no time in going to the driver's side back door of our car and opening it, placing Lucas in his car seat.

As I buckle him in, my gaze lifts through the passenger window which is facing down the street, where the commotion is. In the middle of the road I see a body laying there, illuminated by red and blue lights. My breath catches in my throat and I fumble with the latches of his car seat, too disturbed by what I'm seeing to pay attention.

"Noelle, come on." Ryan's eager voice breaks my gaze away from the body and I successfully get Lucas strapped in. Quickly, I cross the car and get into the back passenger side, just as Ryan told me to.

Without hesitation, Ryan backs out of our driveway, letting me observe the body in the road. Whoever it is, is most definitely dead. Their skull is cracked open on the pavement, brains and blood pouring out of the extensive wound. My heart thumps in my chest and my mouth goes dry. Whatever this is, is nothing good.

Ryan speeds out of our neighborhood and I quickly notice how many cars are out on the road at this time of night. Helicopters and planes crowd in the sky. My blood turns to ice in my veins as a dreadful thought crosses my mind. What if this is related to the sickness on the news? What if it finally made its way here?

Lucas' sniffles break me out of my downward spiral and I take his small hands in my own, rubbing gentle circles on the back of his hands. His dinosaur now sits on his lap. To distract him from the chaos outside, I just start talking to him about anything and everything.

I notice that we drive down back streets and dirt roads, avoiding town and any main avenues. However, the back routes are just as crowded as the main ones usually are. It's almost as if everyone is trying to get out of here at the same time. Horns blare as we come to a standstill on the only road out of this small town. I hear car doors slam and people start shouting at one another.

Ryan and I make eye contact with each other through the rearview mirror, fear equally present in our eyes. A sudden commotion right outside the windshield breaks our gazes apart, and we watch the unfolding scene with wide, terrified eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing man? Use your big ass truck and go through the field dumbass!" The man's words are full of anger and desperation. The driver of the truck yells back,

"I can't you fuckin' moron. Jam is all the way up there to the exit." He motions down to where we're headed. If the exit is jammed up, the highway is full.

My mind starts formulating a way out of this town without the highway, but nothing comes to mind immediately. Any way out of this town requires getting on the highway. Another yell from further up sounds out in the night. A piercing scream, one that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

Seconds later, people begin running past our car, away from the exit and back towards town. People fall and stumble as they try to flee, and nobody helps them up, they all keep running. Whatever is up there is terrifying enough for people to abandon their sense of compassion. It's anarchy out there.

"Stay here." Ryan's voice is strong and decisive. He gets out of the car and stands on the hood to get a vantage point of what's going on. I turn to Lucas and try to comfort him the best I can. Tears are falling down his face, and I wipe them away.

"It's okay Lucas, I'm right here. Nothing bad is going to happen to you while I'm here, mommy's got you." My voice is soft, and I mean the words I say with every fiber of my being. I lean forward and put a delicate kiss on the top of his forehead.

It doesn't take Ryan long to get off the hood, and he goes straight for Lucas. With desperate hands, Ryan goes to unbuckle Lucas and gives me more instructions.

"We have to go on foot. I'll explain later, but something bad is happening up there. We have to go, now." His voice is strained and loud. Without a second thought, I lean over the backseat into the trunk and search blindly for Lucas' diaper bag. Luckily, it's small enough to fit through the gap between the seat and the ceiling, and I sling it on my shoulder. I take another second to grab Lucas' dinosaur plush and then follow Ryan through the crowd.

They're a few steps ahead of me, but I'm right behind them. Ryan keeps Lucas on his hip, one hand protectively securing his head so he isn't jostled around too much. People brush past me as they run away from the traffic jam, causing me to trip a few times.

We jog at a good pace for a while, until we come back to town; the same place we're actively trying to get away from. The small town is full of screaming, crying people running all different directions. It seems like Ryan has a plan, and goes full steam ahead.

We reach the buildings and see large army trucks barreling down the street, heavily armed soldiers jumping out and shouting orders. My steps slow a little as reality begins sinking in. This is just like what I saw on the news yesterday with Lisa. It is here. I tear my gaze away from the trucks and focus on following Ryan.

We approach the back of the local tire shop, an old brick building where the screams and shouts are only slightly muffled. Ryan stops to catch his breath momentarily and I rush to his side, checking to see if Lucas is okay. Other than being scared, he's alright. I kiss his forehead,

"Mommy's got you." I whisper in Lucas' ear. He grabs fistfuls of Ryan's shirt in an attempt to bring himself some sort of comfort. Ryan looks up to me and I reach out to him, my hand resting on his bicep.

"We're going to be okay." My voice isn't very convincing, but Ryan nods.

"We're going to be okay." He confirms with an equally unconvincing voice. We stare into each others eyes for a few fleeting seconds before Ryan starts moving again.

We run past the back of the tire shop and Ryan goes to turn the corner which would lead us back to the main road. I'm a few paces behind them, and Ryan turns the corner before I do.

Within seconds, I hear agonizing screams.

When I turn the corner, it's as if time stands still. Ryan is on the ground, a man is on top of him and blood is pouring out of his shoulder. Lucas is trapped underneath Ryan's body, screeching out. Before I can move a muscle, the man on top of Ryan pounces on Lucas, and I watch in terror as the deranged man bites Lucas in the neck.

Gunshots ring out, the man falls limp.

Ryan has stopped screaming, Lucas has stopped moving. Their blood flows out of them and stains the pavement. My body begins hyperventilating and moving on its own, crouching down to my loves.

My hands go to their wounds and I try to stop the bleeding. But there's too much blood, there's too much. Frantically, I try anything to save them.

"No, no no no no no no." My sobs rake through my body as I see Lucas' lifeless blue eyes staring up at the night sky. Ryan's eyes stare straight at the side of the building, equally as lifeless.

I feel hands loop around my arms, dragging me away from my family. I fight back, thrashing and screaming. I feel the bag around my shoulder get taken off, and Lucas' plush ripped from my hands, leaving only a scrap in my possession.

My body is dragged backwards and I'm tossed in the back of a large armored truck as I scream and cry for my family. I see their lifeless bodies on the ground one final time before the door of the truck is slammed in my face.

Part Three

#joel miller #joel miller series #joel miller x oc #joel miller tlou #pedro pascal #joel miller fanfic #joel miller fluff #joel tlou #tlou #tlou fanfic #the last of us #joel miller fic #the last of us hbo

[eliteseven]

What are your thoughts on Shadowheart in terms of her character? Her feelings towards Tav and her self-esteem?

Shadowheart: Self Esteem & Feelings towards Tav:

Short(er) version:

Shadowheart is complex and so interesting. She can be caustic, witty, dry and seemingly detached- or she can be the most loving person you've ever known. She's confident- we now know much of that was born of her Sharran upbringing, but she's willful because of her parents. She's defiant, playful around those she trusts, and has a great capacity for love. She's a healer at heart- though honed as a weapon, there is no greater joy for her than being able to mend wounds, to take away pain, even though it's all she's known for so long. She's broken, at times, but healing beautifully now.

Her relationship with Tav is founded upon trust (and a LOT of physical attraction, to boot). Tav is the only person who managed to breach her walls while she was still serving Shar. Tav has laid her own life on the line for Shadowheart (and her parents) countless times. Shadowheart plays coy and flirtatious, but there is a deep internal voice that tells her she's lucky Tav considers her worthy of her love. Romantically, Shadowheart is absolutely enamored with Tav. The more she learns about Tav's upbringing, the more protective she becomes. I think she's keenly aware of the fact that she and her parents are Tav's only true family, aside from her mother all the way in Cormyr.

Long (writer's) version lol:

I think Shadowheart is a layered, complex character! We have “Jenevelle”, if you will, at her core. Traits she picked up from her parents, even if she doesn’t inherently remember everything: her kindness, her proclivity to caring for animals and the weak, even her sense of humor (finger guns after the night orchid joke lol). I feel like life in the cloister had her suppressing these traits to an almost painful extent. Her memory may have been wiped, but her instincts do not change so easily. She’s witty, she’s even fun-loving, she’s outspoken. She’s willful, stubborn, and often sees the best in people.

And then we have “Shadowheart”- or the traits she developed as a result of life in the cloister. Some are actually beneficial, some not so much. Life in the cloister makes her cynical, sly, defensive, secretive, even if also incredibly adept at defending herself. It gives her “bite” to her personality, as well as a sense of arrogance.

In the first Acts, we see more of Shadowheart, but Jenevelle bleeds through. It’s clear by Act 2 that she’s developed enough of a rapport/trust with Tav that her true nature begins to show.

I think when she was a practicing Sharran, she lived under the guise of false self-esteem. She ascribed worth to herself based on how well she could heed the Dark Lady’s orders. Now that she’s free, she struggles with reconciling deeds she’s committed in the past. Though it isn’t her fault explicitly, I think she carries much guilt for what she became. Now, living her life in service to her parents, to all their animals, and to her beloved Tav- I think she sees her life as simple, bucolic, but worth so much more. She can be proud of this life, without shame. She can reconcile Jenevelle and Shadowheart, and be the best of both of them.

Her Feelings towards Tav:

Tav is a vital piece to Shadowheart’s overall growth. Initially, she’s attracted to Tav and thinks little of her or that fact- beyond staring when she thinks Tav isn’t looking. Just another pretty girl who's surprisingly good with a blade, in her eyes. In the early weeks, they argue. A lot. Shadowheart is particularly vicious when she gets wind that Tav came from nobility. And then something strange happens- Shadowheart finds herself looking forward to arguing with Tav, just to spend more time with her. She watches Tav give her own food and water to Tiefling refugees- She rolls her eyes at the “weakness” displayed and then goes to hide her smile in her tent and repent in prayer.

Tav is the most selfless person Shadowheart knows. Tav cares more about Emmeline and Arnell than Shadowheart can fathom. She’s constantly looking for ways to make up for lost time, constantly looking for ways to help Shadowheart’s memory. She doesn’t sleep if Shar’s mark is causing Shadowheart pain. Shadowheart has never been the love of anyone’s life-until now.

Shadowheart is madly in love. Tav’s her best friend, her partner. Tav helped speak sense into her, helped her see reason, light, love in the midst of Shar’s scheme for her. Tav saw through her, saw Jenevelle and Shadowheart, and gave herself completely to both of them.

#(Bless you for asking something non death or throuple related 🙏🏼😅) #bg3 #anonymous #ask #Shadowheart #shadowheart x tav #nls series #oc: serena tavyndír #my hcs

[darkk-academic]

Stay

[Five Hargreeves x Reader]

Summary : You are hopeful, you are exhausted, and you want Five to stay.

Warning : None.

Is this how it will always be?

This constant tug of coming and going, but never staying.

"Can't you stay for a little longer?"

Five sighs. Tired gaze settling on you. "You know I can't."

Can't or won't? You bite the retort back.

You met Five in a coffee shop a few months back. A conversation over black coffee was the start of it all, and now here you are, stretching at the seams of what you want and what he can give.

"I'm sorry."

"It's alright. I understand," you reassure.

And you do. His father, the academy, his duty, his family, you understand it all.

You just wish there to be a small corner in his heart for you.

You hope, with time, he will stay.

•••

"We have talked about this," Five argues.

No, we haven't. You talked about it and I listened.

"Is ten minutes more, asking for too much?" Frowning, you peer at him.

"I can't," he states, voice curt.

"Can't or won't?" You retort sharply.

You both aren't who you were when you met over coffee. It's been…you don't even remember how long it's been since you've known him. But you know, it's been long enough to hurt.

"You think if I'd the choice to stay, I wouldn't?" he fumes, glare infusing into his eyes as he stalks towards you.

You've never done it before, what do I know?

"I—"

His hands grip your shoulder, firm and unyielding. "I would."

He says it with such conviction that you believe him.

Desolation wraps around your lips and curls up. A smile bitten out of your heart, you offer it up to him on a platter.

And when he leaves, you hope the next time he will stay.

•••

"I can't do this anymore."

Your whisper is a proclamation. A despairing sound crossing over the chasm of silence between you and him, carried across by the bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love.

It's been years upon years of you consciously hiding behind the carefully crafted walls of ignorance and delusion. No more can you muster the strength to hold them up.

"Don't say that," the crack of his voice mirrors the one in your heart.

"I can't keep doing this," exhaustion slips past your lips, you hope it drains him.

"Just give me—"

"No," you cut him off. "Give, give, give, that's all I have been doing, that's all I have ever done. Don't you see?"

He walks around your bed, towards where you stand— by the window.

Once he's near enough, he lifts his hand to touch you, or embrace you, or calm you, but you turn away, so he thinks better of it.

"I'm sorry."

He's always sorry.

When you used to spend all those late nights or afternoons with him, listening to him, you'd deduced that apology wasn't something he was a master of unlike all other subjects.

You'd thought that apologies were a delicacy when it came to him. How wrong you were.

"Please, I can't do this without you," he's pleading, and yet it's not enough to stir the sympathy within. You want to cry all the same.

"No, Five, I can't do this. I can't let you do this to me anymore."

You keep gazing out of your window, so you don't have to see him.

Nature is a contrast of you. The air is dry, your eyes are not, the leaves aren't rustling, but your being is, the moon is full and yet, you're waning.

The night is the only comfort, reflecting the endless abyss you've fallen into.

He shakes his head, and with it all the semblance of acceptance. "No. Look me in the eye and say that."

So, you do. And you see.

In the depth of his eyes you see an unsettled ocean, oh how deep have you been drowning in them. The more you hold his gaze, the more you realize.

You cannot breathe.

You look away, if you keep looking into those eyes you'll surely suffocate.

"You can't, can you?" It's not a question. An observation. A declaration. It's Five Hargreeves arrogance.

"Your eyes suffocate me." You hope it hurts. "Your presence suffocates me." This time, when you look at him, you hold his stare.

"You don't mean that," the pain that invades your ears snaps you back. Not entirely. No. But just enough for the string tying his heart to yours to burn in agony.

The bridge of shattered hope and bleeding love is in ruins, and ruins rot, and you can't let them destroy you alongside. Ruins must burn.

"I do."

You burn the bridge.

The hush that falls after your decision is one that consists of broken shards, sharp enough to cut, to draw blood.

And they do. There's blood in your ear, copper in your mouth. Seconds tick by and in the torturous quiet you and Five both bleed together.

This is how the moon must feel—hopeless and splintered and wholly caged—when gazing down at those who cry under moonlight.

"I should leave."

The air near him shifts closer to you for a fleeting moment and then draws back.

"Five?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't come back unless you plan to stay."

He doesn't reply. Makes no promises. Just leaves.

And you?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

•••

When you come home, the first thing you notice is the air.

The air feels more welcoming, more mellow. As though the stagnant rust that had dried over the molecules has finally been stripped ; renewing everything.

Your eyes linger on the open door of your bedroom.

Breath in. Breath out.

Giving yourself a moment or two, to let the overwrought heart still, and the agitation in nerves to abate.

Silent are your steps as you tread across the living room towards the open door.

And there he is.

Five Hargreeves does everything in the proper way, cannot fathom doing anything in a way he considers less than perfect.

His presence isn't a surprise.

How could it be? When he'd announced it in bold calligraphy over rose-scented parchment saying, "I'm coming home."

Your gaze sweeps over to him.

Leaning against the open window, with his head tilted up and eyes closed. The afternoon sun shines down on him in sublimity, golden rays weaving through the lining of his skin.

He looks like home.

"It's been eight months."

The silvery thread of your voice tugs at him, unfurling the ocean of his eyes that you used to drown in.

"I know."

You fold your arms. "Bit arrogant of you to presume we could just pick up right where we left off."

"I don't presume." He shakes his head, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I know."

"Oh?" You raise a mocking brow. "Is that so?"

"I have lived your love." His words are laced in nostalgia, it splashes on your face. "I have known your love. I know your love. And maybe, maybe I'm being arrogant here, but this arrogance comes from confidence, from belief in your love."

"I am tired, Five." So is my love.

There are more words you wish to say, however they are a jumbled mess. It doesn't matter because the softness of his eyes says that he understands.

"I have always fallen back on you, known that no matter what you will always be there. I'm here so that, you know, you can fall back on me now."

You sway on your feet. Warm tears eclipse your eyes. You step closer to him.

"And you won't leave?"

"I'm here. I'm here to stay." He extends his hand, the curl of his lips, the shine of his eyes, everything left open and raw for you to see.

And what you see is the promise of comfort and rest. Of peace and love. Of him and you.

So, you take his hand. And he pulls you in an embrace.

You meet him like the first rain after a dry spell. Like the cold droplets falling over the burning earth, soothing and mending the cracks. Except you both are the drought and the rain— you're his drought as he's yours, and he's your rain, as you're his.

I'm home, you think, as his hands envelop you entirely, while your come to rest upon his chest.

Heart sagging as it lets go of exhaustion. You hide your face in the crook of his neck, and he finds shelter in the nook of your shoulder.

Together, you succumb into each other.

Melding and merging with every breath, the essence spilling over. A game of hide and seek without the need to seek because you've already found each other. But you are hiding, somewhere near the core of your respective beings, finding solace by the soul.

There's much to talk about. But not now. For now, you're tranquil beneath the mirage that there's no one but you and Five in the world.

Sighing, you nestle into him.

Is this how it will always be?

You hope and you hope and you hope.

..................................................................................

A/N :

This one was inspired by the exhaustion I felt. Some abstract exhaustion that made me want to just succumb into someone.

And then I remembered this quote by Kafka— "I would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us anymore."

And I thought, well there's no one to hide face in other than the pillow, but let's create something out of it! So yeah channelled all that into this.

It's a bit heavy on the prose...yeah I think the Sandman fic I'm working on has something to do with that.

Anyways, hope you guys enjoyed this.

Thankyou! ❤

#five hargreeves #tua five #number five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves oneshot #tua #the umbrella academy #tua season 3 #tua3 #oneshot #x reader

[fanmoose12]

Please tell me the fic you just posted (the erurihan love triangle) HAS A SECOND PART!!! Please pleasee you can’t just leave us like that, can youuu? 🥺🥺🥺

Once upon a time, when he was still naive and inexeperienced, Levi believed that expeditions beyond the Walls are the worst thing that can happen to a Scout. Dangerous, always accompanied by blood and gore, oftentimes ending in a tragedy, they are indeed quite unpleasant occasions.

But they don't even come close to a hell that's also commonly known as military balls.

Everything about them irritates Levi - the polished floors, the abundance of candles and portraits hanging on practically every available surface - a testament of unimaginable amounts of wealth spent in total vain, the guests - so full of themselves, so arrogant and condescending, and the way they laugh too loudly and too frequently after jokes that really aren't that funny, even his own suit that hugs him just a bit too tight, seizing the freedom of movements that uniforms provide, and his hair that is slicked back for the occasion, and, Levi's sure, makes him look like a complete idiot, or worse - like one of these too rich for their own good assholes. Even the wine here is awful, too dry and sour, not a match to ale that is served in his favorite tavern.

And Erwin, Erwin irritates him too. Not just because he has dragged Levi out here in the first place, but also, also because he has Hange, hanging off his arm for the whole damned evening.

They look good together, Levi notes bitterly. Both beautiful and charming and insanely smart, they look– like they belong together.

And sometimes– sometimes Levi wishes he could hate them both for that.

He wishes he could hate Hange - for being so oblivious, for stubbornly continuing to remain so even after his half-confession. She doesn't love him, she never will, not in a way Levi wants her to, and isn't that– isn't that a sufficient enough reason to despise her?

But Levi can't, knows too well that he could never. Those feelings, that infatuation he naively believed to be just that, no more a minor misjudgement from his youth, do not disappear, do not fade with time, do not even lessen.

Quite on the contrary.

As he grows older, these feelings continue to grow too, becoming stronger, starting to run that much deeper.

But just as his feelings do not change, so don't Hange's. She may - and always will - have his heart, but Erwin is the one who will always have hers.

And although Levi can't hate Erwin no more than he can't hate Hange, Erwin's seemingly complete disregard for her feelings not only perplexes Levi, but annoys him too.

How can Erwin be so careless? How can he be so cruel? How can he resist the temptation, how can he deny the love Levi knows he has for her?

Why is he a stronger man than humanity's strongest soldier?

For Levi knows, holds no illusions, that had he been as blessed as Erwin, had Hange decided to give all of her heart to him, he wouldn't have hesitated to take it. He would have never let her go, he'd fight and bleed and hurt - just for a chance of a future with her.

But, maybe... maybe, that's precisely why Erwin doesn't dare to act on his feelings. Maybe, that's why he keeps his heart as it is - cold and closed-off.

Maybe, that's why, in the end, he's the wisest of them all.

He knows the price of falling in love, and deems it to be too high to pay.

And, maybe, that's why Hange loves him so. Because Erwin is a better man– he chooses all of humanity and not a single person.

Levi wishes he could be that selfless. Or, at least, that wise.

But he's not like Erwin and Hange, he's not a brilliant strategist or a genius scientist, he's just a man, who's very good at fighting.

He's nothing special, no matter what title was bestowed upon him, and no matter what common folk and nobles alike think of him.

Out of the corner of his eyes, Levi notices a girl, one of his acquired admirers, no doubt, who starts to approach him, so, naturally, he takes the only sensible decision available and darts in another direction, desperately searching for someone he can pretend to be in an important conversation with.

Such a person is found surprisingly easily, and what's even more surprising - out of all people, it is Erwin. Sometime during the evening he has lost their Hange, and now stands alone, watching the festivities unravel from the corner of the ballroom.

As Levi walks closer to him, Erwin turns towards him with a smile that’s just a bit too soft, just a bit too gentle. Levi hasn't seen him put on that smile ever since Erwin took upon himself the role of a Commander.

"Levi? Decided to hide behind your Commander's back?"

Levi huffs and leans against the wall next to him. "Yours is wide enough."

At that, Erwin chuckles and hands him a glass of wine. Levi accepts it in hopes that with a friend, the awful wine would taste a little better.

He takes a sip of it, his mouth twisting - it definitely does not taste better, and looks around the room.

From this new vantage point, he can finally see Hange - she's in the middle of a dance floor, twirling around with some nobleman's second or third son. No one more important would dare to approach her, after all. Her reputation is just as widespread as Levi's.

The guy she's dancing with is young, Levi realizes belatedly, looks just fresh out of adolescence. But he's not that hard on the eyes, not at all, especially with that full of wonder smile that he stares at Hange with. And his dancing skills are above average, definitely good enough for someone whose only purposes in life are dancing and talking about some nonsense with an arrogant enough expression on his handsome face. But– as good as the guy undoubtedly is, he's not a match to Hange. Hange, who carries herself so confidently, whose smile is so charming and whose every step is controlled and precise. She moves around the dance floor effortlessly, so gracefully like she's been doing exactly that her whole life too.

Watching her, Levi realizes, not for the first time that she's–

"Beautiful, isn't she?" Erwin murmurs, taking note of who Levi stares at so instantly.

Levi takes his eyes off Hange instantly, looking up to meet Erwin's amused, but still disturbingly soft gaze.

"Four-eyes?" he draws out, forcing his voice to sound nonchalant. "Beautiful? Not like that."

The Hange that Levi sees now is so different from the one he used to, the one he knows and loves, that she's practically unrecognizable. The Hange that Levi knows oftentimes looks exhausted, is nearly always dressed in dirty clothes, with cheeks too pale and thin, but with a wide, genuine smile on her lips and her eyes burning. The Hange that he knows is not suave or polite, she's loud, often rude, but always sincere, always real.

And Hange that he sees now clearly isn't.

"Never thought that out of us three, you'd be the most romantic one, Levi," Erwin muses, and, before Levi can protest, adds, "Did you know that Hange suffers from nightmares?"

Levi's eyes widen, his brows furrow at such an unexpected twist in a conversation, but he gives Erwin a nod nevertheless.

Does he know about Hange's nightmares? Of course, he does, how can he not, when he's the one who usually calms her down? After all, it's precisely why they fall asleep in each other's beds more often than not - when Hange isn't tormented by horrors from their everyday life, usually he is.

It is a perfect remedy, at least, for Levi. He found out fairly quickly that all fear vanishes, when he has Hange wrapped around him.

"I didn't," Erwin confesses, his eyes darting to Hange, as if he can't resist it. "I wouldn't have known, if Nanaba didn't mention it to me."

"And?" Levi prompts, perhaps a bit more rudely than he intended. The damn ball is to blame, he supposes. The wine is shitty, the people here are even more so, and Erwin's riddles just force him even closer to the edge.

"Hange didn't tell me about it. She did, however, tell you."

"She probably didn't want to bother you. Or, she–"

"-doesn't trust me," Erwin finishes for him. "Not nearly as much as she trusts you."

Levi swallows down a curse, then gulps a mouthful of the shitty wine. "If that's your attempt at making me feel better, Erwin, then you–"

"Hush," Erwin cuts him off with another gentle smile. He puts a hand on Levi's shoulder and leans, whispering in his ear. "Let's have a little experiment of our own. Hange is not the only one who can do that, right?"

Levi rolls his eyes, but accepts his fate and doesn't push Erwin away. "And?" he asks boredly. "What is the point of that experiment?"

"Experiments are meant to prove something, no? And, recently, I read somewhere that you can deduce when someone has feelings for another person. It's fairly easy, but, I admit, I've never thought about it. The gist of it is this - when someone is in love, their eyes instinctively search for that person first."

Levi hates himself just a little bit at that moment. Not just for not pushing Erwin away and refusing to stroke his ego one more time, but also– for that slimmer of hope that makes its way inside him, and stubbornly refuses to be banished.

What's he hoping for anyway? Doesn't he know how this will go? Doesn't he know who Hange loves already? Doesn't he know that it's not - and will never be - him?

But, perhaps, he's more of a masochist than he ever thought himself to be, because he doesn't push Erwin away, he doesn't escape the room altogether, he stands and waits for the outcome that he has guessed already.

Hange finishes her dance, bows and smiles, then she turns around, finds them in a crowd, but– it’s not Erwin that her eyes dart to immediately. 

It's Levi, who she looks at first. It's Levi's name that slips out of her lips.

It's Levi that she hurries to get closer to.

It's stupid, he thinks in that moment, Erwin's stupid and his theory and experiment are even more so, but– his heart still starts to beat that much faster, the warmth still spreads throughout his chest, the damned butterflies still begin to flutter their wings in his stomach, and-

And when Hange reaches out and wraps her hands around his, dragging him to the dance floor with a giddy smile, he still allows her to do so. He still smiles as he follows after her.

Erwin and his experiment are still unbelievably stupid, but– for just one night, one night that started horrible and ended so spectacularly - Levi allows himself to pretend otherwise.

#woah! #i finished this thing just hmmmm more than a half year later? #hooray to me anyway #levihan

[itshype]

Loveweaver (Wednesday ficlet)

Child Wednesday Addams casts a spell on herself to ensure she never falls in love. Her parents spend all their time making smoochy faces at each other and it was not only revolting but completely unproductive. Wednesday would never be able to breed herself a scorpion large enough to ride if she had to spend all her time kissing another person.

Her mother wouldn't have even had enough hours in the year to cross pollinate a rose with a carnivorous sundew if Wednesday hadn't taken one for the team and glued her dear father's mouth shut. She was still awaiting her letter of thanks from the entire field of botany.

Unfortunately, she couldn't find a spell to remove all love from her heart forever in the family grimoire. The favour Pugsley owes her will only entice him to distract their babysitter – Uncle Fester – for so long. She has to find the spell and cast it as soon as possible. If her parents had been home, they would have found her in the family dungeon way too fast, luckily for the first time in forever, the Addams parents had taken their biweekly date outside of the family estate. That was Wednesday’s big break, but she was strapped for time.  

And that’s why she latches onto the first love spell she finds. The Loveweaver. A spell that would allow her to become the architect of her own love story. Good, she knew exactly how to write a good tragedy.

It was bafflingly straightforward; these candles there, those bones like this, Morticia had even left out a few dried green tulips, clearly forgotten in the back of the rack usually used to dry bloomless rose stems. Another moment of good fortune, drying flowers took forever and there was no way for Wednesday to accomplish it without the flowers being noticed at some point, even if she put off the actual spell cast for another few weeks. She knew she wouldn’t get another opportunity like this for long enough as to be unimaginable to someone at her age.

Everything was ready much faster than Wednesday could have imagined. She hadn’t even started to think about the criteria she would implement within the spell. Well, she was good enough on her feet to be able to think of something. All she had to do was choose a love who didn’t exist and then she would have all the time in the world to breed Nero’s grandchildren into venomous stallions, maybe she’d even write a book about it.

Wednesday read out each word faithfully before working to fill the space. Maybe rhyming wasn’t her strongest suit.

By moonlit night and whispered plea, I call upon the magic, see it bleed. In search of love, forever true, Through this spell, I'll find only you As this spell concludes, I set it free, To manifest the love meant for me. With open heart to receive and hold, My love will be, destiny unfolds.

Upon enchanted winds fate must caress, I conjure love's magic, I must impress. Seeking a soulmate, a love to address, In destiny's embrace, my one true love will possess…

"Rainbow eyes, ones with all colours combined,” She begun shakily, “Normie and Outcast, both worlds entwined.” That was a solid rhyme, maybe it wasn’t too difficult.

“A monster who’s pure, no sins that they must confess,” This was the most difficult thing anyone had ever had to do, maybe Wednesday should have written this all before starting the spell. “A drug dealer who is lawful, causing no stress."

That was it! A terribly forced rhyme, but a contradiction drastic enough she felt confident ending the spell by blowing out the candles in compass order. It was all over, Wednesday would be safe forever.

Gomez Addams sits back in his chair, pretending magnanimously not to notice the uncomfortable, and occasionally outright fearful glances from the other – Normie – patrons of the fancy restaurant.

“Tish, my withered rose, you know I’d follow you anywhere,” He eyes the sleek, bright décor dubiously, “but can we return home yet?”

Morticia smiles at her husband over her wine glass, running a sharp fingernail over the rim hard enough to make a ringing sound. “Not just yet, darling.”

#i had way too much fun writing the spell #wednesday #wyler #netflix's wednesday #weyler #mine #ficlet #someone remind me to archive this to ao3 at some point lol #caffeine is a drug! #hehehe

[calx-bdo]

KAZUJA??? AND SPIDERMAN??? 2HAT IF

I AM NOT A TRAINED MEDICAL PROFESSIONAL. ALL METHODS FOR TREATMENT ARE PURELY FICTIONAL, AFTER BRIEF RESEARCH. DO NOT FOLLOW FOR TREATED WOUNDS IRL. SEEK PROFESSIONAL HELP FOR TREATING OPEN WOUNDS AND GASHES.

Something knocks on your window. It was late at night, past 12 am, perhaps even 1 am. What on earth could be outside your window at such an unholy hour?

Slowly, you grasped the wooden bat underneath your bed (in case, can't tell what could happen in New York), and slowly opened the curtain, hand tightly wrapped around the window handle. Slowly, you pushed the window open, the wooden bat ready to be aimed at the intruder's face.

You swung your bat- Hey, where'd it go? And what's this sticky web on your hand?! You gazed in fright at your intruder, expecting some punk with a black ski mask or something, with those dragon tattoos and all that. You know, typical Underground Gang stuff.

"Kazuha? What..what are you doing here? OH MY GOD ARE YOU BLEEDING?" You quickly gasped in horror as a wave of panic swept over you. Kazuha had a huge gash running down his chest, though not deep, but still enough to make you lose your absolute mind. "Get in, I'll bandage you up!" Thank god you were a trained medical professional. You haven't even realised the Spider-Man mask half pulled up, letting some of his front hair out.

Kazuha plopped down on your bed, letting out a wince.

"Sorry, this might hurt a bit."

You slowly cleaned the wound with clean water from your tap, truly hoping that the government-assured "drinking quality tap water" wasn't a fraud. Then, gently, using a clean, dry towel, you pressed it to the gash, absorbing the moisture from the wound.

Next, you tightly wrapped the bandage around his gash, trying your best to not stare at his muscles and abs, but god. It was so..stunning? It's almost feminine in a way, with a tiny waist and broad shoulders. His collarbone is so defined, and his skin with cuts here and there, healed scars, oh my goodness, he was beautiful.

"Haha, are you trying to bandage me up or trying to get a good look at me?" Kazuha's soft voice teased. You could feel the heat rise to your face, eyes trying to look everywhere but his softly smirking face, his eyes gazing at you with a smidge of mischief in them.

You quickly finished bandaging him out of embarrassment and plopped down next to him. "L-let's talk about the bigger problem. You're Spider-Man?"

Now it was Kazuha's turn to blush. He looked down, face tinted a light pink, laughing nervously.

"Yeah..And the reason why I came to you was because I didn't really...have anyone else to go to? Sure, Aunt Beidou and Aunty Ningguang are trustworthy, but I'm not really keen on letting them in on my vigilante double-life. You know how Aunt Beidou is when she's tipsy. I guess I only ever really trusted you, Y/N. With this secret. With my other life."

A beat of silence turns into two. A small smile crept up on your lips, realisation dawning on you that Kazuha only ever trusted you with this. You're the one that holds his heart in your hands. Kazuha's wrapped around your pinky. Kazuha entrusts this huge secret that could potentially end both your lives and many others, to you. He trusts you more than anyone. He loves you more than anyone.

"Thanks, zuzu. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we? The dirt on your face is really ticking me off. And it's on my bed now too..I definitely need to change bedsheets later. But for now, let's focus on you. I love you, Kazuha, and nobody can change that."

You press a small kiss to his forehead. 'A worthy price for saving New York everyday, ' Kazuha thinks.

(sykyu008 on twt)

#genshin x reader #yingyue'snovels #genshin fluff #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact x reader #anime #fluff #genshin kaedahara kazuha #kazuha x gender neutral reader #kazuha fluff #kazuha x reader #kazuha #genshin impact fanfic #kazuha fanfic #kazuha x you

[adrowningmansballad]

report card

Do you have a heart? Can you feel it beat in your chest? Does it feel ooey, gooey and warm like the early rays of December's summer sun, peeking through your glazed windows when you wake? Like when a shy little girl or boy sneaks glances at their crush in a coming of age film with bated breath while walking to school, concealed by the shadows of wilted wallflowers. Does it flutter like cabbage butterflies that dance around your head as you walk down the cracked paved footpath? Tranquility breaks as you trip pitifully, the crumbling of concrete matches your confidence and crimsoning of cheeks. But you'll have more to be embarrassed about soon, don't you worry. Can you feel it pound as you're rushed by an influx of bodies, washing over you? As you enter school, moving from each class, slowly sinking on that anxious breeze that trails through the tall towering trees. Carrying that distinct scent of eucalyptus leaves that tumbles you dry. It follows you all the way to the end of the day, where you start to feel less alive. Can you feel your blood run cold when you realize what day it is today? When you're handed your progress report, and read the freshly printed Letraset flowing down the page. A column that pummels you into the earth- "A- for Math, A for Science, A for Music, A for Humanities, A for Physical Education...B for English". It's not much, but it's enough. It's enough to justify what will happen next. Does your heart thump hard enough to begin pushing it's way out of your chest? With each step home, do you feel yourself falling over? You might hope you trip again and break your arm. Or crack your skull. Or just bleed. Any reason to distract from what's in your hand. And when you finally get home, do you accept your fate and place the death sentence onto the dining table? If so, you should probably go hide. Wait in your bedroom, with only the melody of your heart sitting in the void with you. Does it drum the same beat of the bedroom door slamming open? Scuff marks signing "please kick here" from the day before. And the day before. And the day before that. And the day before that. And the day before that. There's nowhere to hide and you know that. All you can do is hold your breath. But we both know your heart won't steady. Do you sense the wall shake? The way they vibrate as he comes through the door. The windows rattle, no longer glittering with that warmth you felt when you opened your eyes. Are you starting to feel that sense of doom, as the static that descends like a burning vignette threatens to end you. You're unsure if your heart will burst from the pressure swelling in your chest, but your ears most definitely will; "You almost got an A" "You've really slacked off this time" "Maybe you've spent too much time with your friends" "You did so much better last term". It sounds nice enough now, but your continuing existence pours oil onto the fire; "You're a waste of space, you know that?" "A waste of time even" "How can you be such an idiot?" "That's all you are, and all you ever will be" "How could you be so sly and manipulative, making us think you could actually do something well for once" "Don't give me that look, or I'll give you something to really cry about" "Maybe grounding isn't enough, I ought to-". No matter how hard you try, this is how it ends; No happy love story in sight. It was never there to begin with. The end credits thanks you for your achievements that led us here. Do you have a heart? I have one. But I think it broke a long time ago.

#writing #writing? #light angst #slam poetry #spoken word #spoken poetry #poem #poem and poetry #high school #report #report card #writblr #creative wrting #writers on tumblr #poets on tumblr #original post #original poem #current wip #wip #wip wednesday #unfinished #work in progress #sad thoughts #sad poem

[multiversefanfics]

Don’t Forget To Look Up.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x Reader

Warning: Mention of death and sadness

Summary: The reader left a note before she died

A/N: I wrote something similar with a different character but lost the entire blog and fic, this is a very sad one. life isn’t all sugar, unicorns, and rainbows. Anything bold is the note Y/B/N: Your baby’s name

Dear Sam,

It was a beautiful sunny morning, you, Sam and your little bundle of joy are on your way to Tony’s for a cookout, you and Sam were belting out one of your favorite songs, laughing and just being goofy. You looked over at Sam in awe, you couldn’t believe that you got to spend the rest of your life with this man, he was everything to you. You smiled wide and watched him sing to you “I love you so much, Sam.” He looked over at you for a split second then back to the road “I love you too, Y/N.” You both went back to singing, hearing your daughter’s little voice try to sing along with you, even though it was mainly babble. That’s when it happened. Bang. Everything went black.

Remember that trip we took to Hawaii, I remember you didn’t even want to go because you were afraid the baby was going to be a problem on the plane but you calmed her down with your atrocious but adorable singing, I know how nervous you were, hell so was I. Neither of us knew what we were doing but I think we did a pretty good job with her, she’s got your sense of humor along with that gorgeous smile you have.

You woke up in a hospital bed with many wires coming out of everywhere, you looked around and saw Sam, Nat, Tony and Steve. You strained to talk but ultimately regretted it, your throat was so sore and dry you couldn’t even mutter a word. Sam jumped up and rushed to your side which startled everyone else “Y/N, Baby” He helped you sit up but not too fast, you put your hand to your throat signaling that you needed water he grabbed the cup on your table and bended the straw so you could drink it, the cool water hit your throat instantly giving you relief and you were able to talk. “What happened?” You muttered leaning your head back against the pillow, Sam rubbed his thumb over your forehead “We were in a car accident baby.” Your heart started to race, you looked around breathing heavy “Where’s Y/B/N??” Sam calmed you down by rubbing your hand “She’s okay, she’s with Sarah.”

You are an amazing father I am so happy that you got me pregnant, I know you’re going to laugh at that, well I hope you do. I know this won’t be easy, but you gotta do this for our baby girl, for me. I hope you aren’t crying right now, you know i wouldn’t want that. I want nothing but happiness for you baby, you have to stay strong for Y/B/N she needs you more than ever, you need to break down? wait until she’s asleep I know that sounds harsh but I don’t want her to see her daddy so sad

A couple days went by and you overheard the doctors say that you’re not doing good, but you feel great you were confused why they would say that, you held Y/B/N playing as much as you could, kissing her, reading to her and even taking a nap. You didn’t understand why the doctors were saying you weren’t doing good, you shook it off and focused on your family, Nat sat by your side making sure you were comfortable, warm and hydrated enough. “How are you feeling?” You’ve never heard Tony speak so softly before it took you by surprise “I feel great, I hope to get out of here soon and back to reality.” Tony frowned turning to look at Steve, who was whispering something to Sam about what the doctors said. Sam Sat down beside you taking your hand in his. “Baby, I need you to listen to me. You’re not doing so good, the doctors said you have some internal bleeding they can’t fix, I want to prepare you.” You looked into his eyes confused “Sam I feel fine, great even.” He sighed and kissed your hand “Baby, they said this is normal you get a surge of energy before you pass, your organs are failing and there is nothing they can do.” As he finished a tear rolled down his cheek, you lifted your hand to wipe it away. “It’s not true! I’m fine!” He leaned into your hand kissing your palm.

Oh, I am extremely in love with you, words can’t describe the feeling I get when I’m with you, even when I think about you, promise me that you will tell our daughter all the amazing adventures we went on, remind her that you’re actually funny no matter how much uncle Bucky and Uncle Tony say how corny you are. please baby, find love you deserve the entire world and i need you to find someone to give it to you.

When you finally calmed down, you gave your daughter a kiss, and told her you’d see her later, Sam picked her up looking down at you “I will be right back.” He kissed your forehead and took her back to Sarah’s so he could spend the night with you. Bucky stayed by your side as you both waited for Sam to come back, he held your hand while you silently cried “Bucky, I don’t want to die, there so much I’m going to miss out on, so much life to live.” He kissed your hand rubbing the top of it after he pulled back. “Y/N, just relax. Maybe the doctors are wrong.” He tried his best to calm you down but it wasn’t working. Soon you heard rapid beeping and Bucky calling your name before everything went dark you panicked, Sam wasn’t back yet, you didn’t get to say goodbye, you didn’t get one last kiss, you didn’t get a chance to tell him how much you love him, just like that you were gone.

And Sam, Don’t forget to look up.

Sam Wilson Masterlist - Main Masterlist

#sam wilson #sam wilson x you #the falcon #falcon x you #avengers #falcon #sam wilson x reader

[i-think-i-did-it-again]

Let you go II

Warning: swearing, assault, fighting

Casie was right, he looks awful. His hair is a matted mess, he’s drenched in sweat, his lip is bleeding and dripping blood down his chin, his nose and left eye is bruised and swollen, his nose ring coated in dry blood and his pupils are completely blown. He’s a mess but your heart still swells at the sight of his big blue eyes.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he sobs and wraps you in a bear hug, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

You look over his shoulder and gasp at the state of his room. You try to comfort his large frame in your small arm as you take in all the damage. Both his lamps are broken, his nightstands are tipped over, wood splintered and cracked, his headboard has been practically torn from his bed frame, his full length mirror is shattered all over the floor, his television has been ripped from the wall, there’s clothes everywhere. Even his pillows are ripped apart leaving feathers everywhere.

He stands upright so he can look at you, cradling your face in his hands. His eyes are drinking you in but as he reads your obviously shocked expression, he turns his head to observe his handy work.

“Colson, what happened?” you can’t think of anything else to say as you step into the room.

Now that you can see his ensuite as well, you can see the damage isn’t confined to just his bedroom. The large mirror covering the far wall of the bathroom has a massive crack across it, all of the products surrounding the sink have been thrown onto the floor, including a couple of bottles of cologne.

“I…Why did you leave me?” he whimpers from the doorway.

You’re shocked by his question, the avoidance of your own question not going unnoticed though. He knows exactly why you left, it wasn’t a secret. He wrote a whole damn song about it. He changed, not for the better, and you just couldn’t handle it anymore. You were so in love with him and he would promise to try harder and be a better boyfriend but then he’d break that promise over and over until you were sick of it, sick of him.

“Colson, I didn’t come here to talk about us,” you sigh, turning to leave but his strained voice stops you.

“No, please. Don’t leave. I’m sorry. I know exactly why you left, I just- I just. Fuck! Why is it so hard to talk to you?” he rakes his hands down his face in frustration.

“I don’t know,” you answer honestly. Communicating with each other never used to be difficult. You could tell each other anything and it was carefree and simple. “Let me clean your face while you think about what you want to say?” you sigh as you take in his battered face again.

He nods in agreement as you head to the bathroom. He sits on the edge of the tub and you search for a washcloth in the mess. You find a clean one behind a cupboard door half pulled from its hinges. You wet the cloth and get to work on cleaning the dried blood on Colson’s chin. He watches you as you concentrate on his cuts and bruises, avoiding his eyes.

“Are you at least going to tell me what happened to your face?” you try again to get some answers, knowing that if you pester him enough he’ll eventually open up.

“I found this dive bar halfway between here and the airport and I got in a stupid fight with some guy,” he shrugs before looking back up your eyes again.

“You know how I know you’re lying to me?” you ask and he shrugs nonchalantly. “You always avoid eye contact when you tell a lie. Now, tell me what really happened.”

“I forgot how well you fucking know me,” he chuckles and then winces at the pain of moving his face. “I went this dumb house party that some guy I used to know was hosting. There were these assholes there that knew who I was and they started saying shit about me, which at first I ignored. Just a bunch of frat bitches trying to show off but…then one of them said your name and then the main asshole started making comments about you like he knew you.”

Colson’s searching your face now, trying to distinguish if there’s a chance that you actually know this random guy and you see he’s trying to work out if maybe you’re dating. The thought of being with anyone else makes you physically ill but you don’t want to admit that to him. When you don’t say anything he continues his story.

“At first, I thought maybe he was just saying some generic shit about women in general but then he mentioned your black Converses and your faded Nirvana tee and I realised he did actually know you.”

“What did he look like?” you ask purely out of curiosity. If he is a frat guy, there’s a chance he goes to your college and maybe knows one of your roommates.

“Um he’s kind of a blur. I remember he was tall, beefy looking, sort of build, jet black hair. He was wearing a football guernsey but I didn’t recognise the team.”

You stop your hand mid-air in front of Colson’s lip as you realise exactly who he’s talking about. Oh shit, oh shit. You feel the room start to spin and you place a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. This can’t be happening, this isn’t happening.

“So you do know him?” Colson is starting to sound angry now and you immediately know you need to de-escalate the situation.

“Yeah I know him. He’s the captain of my college’s football team. He probably only knows me because of you though and he was using me to push your buttons. Most people only know about me because of you,” you explain as calmly and nonchalantly as possible, hoping he doesn’t push you any further.

Colson studies you closely and you try to pretend you don’t notice. You continue to clean his lip until he stops you by grabbing your wrist, wrapping his fingers around the flesh. It’s the first time you’ve felt skin to skin contact with him and your body explodes with electricity. His eyes are still on yours but he hasn’t said anything and you can feel the tension in the room grow.

“I’m not the only one who can’t lie for shit. You talk faster when you lie. Now tell me the fucking truth,” he spits between gritted teeth.

“Colson, you’re hurting me,” you whine and he immediately lets your wrist go but he doesn’t drop the conversation. He just keeps staring at you until you continue. “The weekend I…left,” he flinches and you quickly keep talking. “I went to a frat party. I drank way too much because I didn’t want to feel. I ended up in the backyard, alone. That guy, Troy, he was out there too. He came over and we started talking and he seemed nice until he pushed me up against the wall and stuck his tongue down my throat. I tried to push him away but he was so big and way too strong for me. I was trying to get away but I was trapped so I ended up having to knee him in the balls and then I ran out of there.”

“Baby, hey. I’m so sorry that happened to you,” Colson’s expression immediately softens and he cradles your face between his large hands, wiping away tears with his thumbs. “Well, now I don’t feel so bad about beating the shit out of him,” he jokes and you chuckle softly.

Once you’ve finished cleaning up his face, you and Colson begin to clean up the mess he’s created. Most of his furniture needs to be replaced and his bathroom is going to reek of cologne for a while but at least the mirrors and feathers can be cleaned, he clothes folded and the bed can be remade.

After you’ve finished cleaning up as much as you can, you convince Colson that he needs to go downstairs and apologise to Casie and his friends for taking off last night and for scaring them by not coming home. He agrees and you follow him downstairs. You don’t say anything when he laces his fingers with yours, still not 100% sure of how calm he actually is and not wanting to do anything to set him off.

He sincerely apologises to everyone and then all take turns to hug him and accept his apology. A couple of them whisper thank you’s to you for calming him but you just shrug and tell them you didn’t really do anything. Casie is a bit more reserved with her forgiveness and she doesn’t hug Colson, instead nodding and disappearing up the stairs to retreat to her room. Colson goes to follow but you tell him to let you go.

You find Casie in her room, curled up on her bed, scrolling through her phone. You come in and sit beside her quietly. You want to let her talk when she’s ready until you realise she’s crying as she stares at her phone screen.

“Casie, it’s ok to be angry at him but he is sorry,” you try to comfort her but she pushes you away.

“I’m not angry at him!” she yells, flinging herself off the bed and staring at you coldly.

“Who are you angry at then?” you ask clearly confused by her sudden mood swing.

“I’m angry at you. You came and you fixed everything but now you’re going to leave again, just like you did the first time. You didn’t even say goodbye to me, you didn’t care.”

“Casie, that’s enough,” Colson’s deep, firm voice sounds at the doorway and you can see he’s angry at her.

“Why? Because her leaving only affected you? I loved her too, you know? But no, you were all too busy being selfish to notice how it hurt,” she’s full on crying now and all you want to do is comfort her. “I missed her too, I wanted her to come back too. I wanted YOU to fight for her instead of just giving up. And now that you’re ok again, she’s going to go right back to being selfish and leave.”

“Casie.” Colson warns but you interrupt him before he can scold her.

“No, she’s right,” you interject quickly. “I was so wrapped up in how I felt that I didn’t think about you Casie and for that I’m truly sorry. Just because things didn’t work out between your dad and me, didn’t mean I had to forget about you.”

Casie is watching you with a cautious look in her eyes like you’re trying to sell her something and she’s not sure if she can trust the sale. She always was very mature and careful for her age. You knew that growing up in the spotlight would have an affect on her. She’s wiping away her tears as Colson kneels in front of her so that they are eye to eye.

“I did some really messed up things to Y/N, that’s why she left and I deserved it but you’re right, you didn’t and we’re both sorry for that. But now I feel like I have a second chance and you can bet for damn sure, I’m not going to let her slip away that easily ever again.”

Colson looks over her shoulder and you and you gulp at the confidence in his eyes. He smirks at your flustered expression before turning his attention back to Casie and wrapping her up in a firm cuddle. Casie hugs you as well, her way of telling you she forgives you, and the world feels a little better. Rook calls up the stairs that there’s pizza and Casie quickly scurries out of the room to stake a claim to the food.

Before you can follow her, Colson blocks your path and again cradles your face in his hands. He crashes his lips onto yours before you know what’s hit you and you immediately melt into the familiar touch. He holds you against his body so that he can feel every part of you, snaking his arms down your back to your butt and squeezing. He pulls back to catch his breath and leans his forehead against yours.

“I was being serious when I said I’m going to fight for you this time. I can’t and don’t want to live without you and I’m going to do whatever it takes to make you see that,” and with that he turns on his heels and leaves you to dwell on that promise. The thought of him doing whatever it takes makes your stomach flip and knot at the same time. Will he keep his promise or is it empty like all the others? God, you hope not because you’ve missed that crazy, loveable man so much it hurt and you don’t want to him go ever again.

#colson baker #machine gun kelly #mgk #tickets to my downfall #ttmdf #mgk imagine #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #machine gun kelly imagine #mgk x reader #mgkxx #est19xx #colson baker x reader #machine gun kelly x reader #good mourning #mgk angst #mgk fluff #mgk fanfic

[queen-scribbles]

oooh 👀 mayhaps guide or wound for adam/aj

How 'bout both? with an added [11. laying their hand on the other’s neck] from touch prompts for @haledamage (post-book 3, and I'm trying not to feel guilty it took me like 8 months to fill😅) ---

"You are injured."

"So're you." It came out reflexively, even if the sharp red gash was already starting to close by the time she laid a hand on his neck to frame to wound so she could examine it. "Comes with the job, yeah?"

Adam pulled a slow breath and they both ignored the tremor when he exhaled it. "You will not heal as I do, Abigail." He swallowed hard, jaw tight on more he refused to say, and gently grasped her wrist to move her hand from his neck. His thumb made a light circle over her pulse point--thrumming madly, she was sure--before he shifted his grip to lead her a short way to the side.

AJ followed readily once she picked out his goal--a sawn off stump large, flat, and clean enough for them to sit on. "I'm still gonna worry when y' get hurt, Adam." She missed the warmth of his hand when he let go, bit her lip as if that could hide it. "Call it human nature."

His lips twitched in a maybe-almost-smile. "I feel it is more your nature than a general human state." He hesitated, something flickering in the green of his eyes, then held out a hand. "Let me see."

It was a request more than an order, but AJ made no protest as she held out her arm for him to examine.

Adam's grip was, once again, gentle as he cradled her wrist, gaze and thumb tracing the angry red line that cut from the outside of her forearm around to the inside, just below her wrist. It was barely more than a deep scratch, small potatoes next to most of what she'd weathered, but it was bleeding. Adam pulled a small case from one pocket on his cargo trousers and opted to balance it on his knee as he opened it rather than trust the cleanliness of the stump.

AJ arched a curious brow even as they both wrinkled their noses at the biting scent of alcohol when he tore open one of the small packets within. She had to grit her teeth against the sting of the sterilizing cloth, even with the care Adam gave cleaning the cut.

She wasn't sure if it was the sting or his proximity, laser-focused on tending to her, that had her pulse up.

She studied him in silence as he worked, thoughts and emotions too much a tangle to settle on a topic for small talk. He doesn't care for it anyway. The cut on his neck was completely healed now, drying blood the only evidence it had been there at all.

It wasn't a surprise when Adam ascertained the angle and length of her injury was such adhesive bandages wouldn't cover it well and withdrew the small roll of gauze to wrap it. He finished swiftly, gentle as his touch remained, and rubbed his thumb over the wrapping, as if he wished to transfer some of his healing ability to her through touch alone.

"That should be sufficient until we return to the Warehouse and a doctor can tend it properly," he said abruptly, shaking his head as if to clear some reverie he didn't want. He snapped the case closed and shoved it back in his pocket.

AJ rested a hand on his arm before he could stand and felt him tense. "Thank you, Adam," she said softly. "It hope it wasn't... too much."

He shook his head, scanning the surroundings--"for threats" he'd say if she brought it up--rather than meet her eye. "It... was not more than I could endure. Though I appreciate your concern." Something gentled about his posture. "And it should not surprise me from you."

Her heart fluttered at the softness to his voice. "I wouldn't want it t' be a struggle when you're helpin' me, yeah?"

"It is not," Adam said, finally turning to look at her. His gaze was so sincere it made her chest go tight. "And even if it is... it's worth it."

Oh. She couldn't get even the single syllable our her dry throat. This is really counterproductive to the 'not letting me fall in love with you' thing. She swallowed, lightly running her fingers over where his injury had been. "Thank you," she repeated, and leaned in to kiss his cheek as she let her hand drop.

"Abigail..." He caught her hand for a moment before letting it fall. "You are welcome." He pushed to his feet. "We should continue on. The sooner we finish and get back, the sooner you can have that properly treated."

With a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm herself, AJ also stood. She only made it a few steps in silence before curiosity got the better of her. "I did have a wonder, Adam..."

"Which is?"

She curled a loose lock of hair around her finger and tugged on it. "If all of ya heal fast enough t' not need it, why're ya carryin' a first aid kit?"

Adam stopped, turned to face her. "It is always wise to be prepared. And I look out for my agents." He reached out, thumb ghosting along her jaw, his eyes determined and so, so sad it made her want to weep. "Whatever form that takes."

I will not allow you to fall in love with me.

He pivoted to resume their route and it took several long moments before AJ could breathe through the heartache of his words and unstick her feet to follow. It was, she supposed, human nature to want what you couldn't have.

What if, in this one thing, I don't want lookin' after?

What if we don't break?

#queens fic #abigail jenings #adam du mortain #aj/adam au #nonverbal prompts #eyes emoji prompts #touch prompts #the way they drive me insane🙃

[hyperactivewhore]

I see this question going around and I can’t help but wonder who would win in a fight - the twilight vampires or the tvd vampires. As much as I hate to admit it, I have to give it to the twilight vampires, but what do you think?

People really don't realize how ridiculously overpowered vampires of Twilight are.

It's not a secret most people see Twilight, and their vampires, as a joke: they sparkle, and that's definitely not scary. But they're basically indestructible, and tvdu vampires can be killed with a wood pencil, there's no chance a tvdu vampire is taking down any twilight vampire. Not even Hope, Klaus or any other Original for that matter.

Essentially;

Tvdu vampires:

Can be weakened by vervain

Can be weakened by wood

Can die in the sun

Can die in the sun if you take their daylight ring away

Can have their bones broken easily

Can be staked

Can have their heart removed

Susceptible to witchcraft

Especial poison can either dessicate or incapacite them

Twilight vampires:

Almost all weakness of tvdu vampires don't apply to twilight vampires

Obviously bad written, but still stronger

Tvdu vampires can bleed, be stabbed, die in human ways but still come back to life but they're down if there's wood in the equation, while Twilight vampires literally need to be ripped apart first, be incapacitated and then be set on fire so they're definitely dead. And even then, the pieces of their bodies can literally reconnect if they're close enough, if I'm correct, or they can also lick the wombs to stick it together again.

Twilight vampires are practically rocks, harder than diamonds, their skin is impossible to penetrate so stabbing is impossible, and getting their hearts ripped out won't kill them anyway. Canonically, the only thing that can harm a Twilight vampire is a vampire themself or werewolf teeth. They also cannot be compelled, due to how their brains work, and magic isn't really gonna harm them, being deprived of blood just turns their eyes black while tvdu vampires get considerably slower and practically dry out.

The Originals were getting their ass beaten by witches and vampires almost every season, and an eighteen years old actually managed to kill one of them, so unless Twilight vampires don't have a white oak stake I'm pretty sure they would end up in a standstill.

There's Jane too, who died burnt and her gift is making people feel her pain as she died, basically being burned alive, so perhaps she can kill a tvdu vampire with her mind alone due to this. Alec can practically take away people's senses so in my opinion, they're both cleaning the tvdu verse without moving a finger.

Perhaps Hope is the only one that stands a chance, but only taking into account her witch abilities, as her vampire and werewolf side are significantly weaker than the Twilight contraverse.

I'm really not trying to start a debate here. I loved Twilight as a child, and I adore tvdu a lot more, but once again, every single supernatural creature in Twilight is ridiculously overpowered.

#i'm hoping people understand it was hurtful for my ego to admit this #i'll always like tvdu vampires more as they're more “realistic” #twilight vampires are basically gods #twilight renaissance #new moon #eclipse #breaking dawn #bella cullen #bella swan #edward cullen #alice cullen #rosalie hale #rosalie cullen #jasper hale #jasper cullen #esme cullen #carlisle cullen #jane volturi #alec volturi #alec and jane volturi #klaus mikaelson #hope mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson #kol mikaelson #elena gilbert #the vampire diaries #the originals #tvd #to