#epidem x reader

[fellow-anime-weeb927]

HI HI :D

can u do an epidem and child!reader where the kid is pretty much frankenstein and he raises the kid as his own or as a little sibling similar to the others? :3333

An interesting idea! I’ll try my best!✨

Epidem + Child!Frankenstein!Reader

-he found you in the woods, wandering alone. He wondered what is a child doing all by themselves?

-but what caught his eye was the child’s movements were stiff and restricted

-not long after, you noticed him and ran towards him, proceeded to bite his arm

-he stared at you in disbelief, but chuckled at your antics

-he definitely knew you weren’t a normal human nor a magic being

-he inspected you further and noticed some bolts on your neck

-he got more curious as he saw scars all over your body and your green tinted skin

-he asked you if you have any parents with you out here, but you just tilted your head, not understanding his question

-he decided to take you to his father’s lair and take care of you

-his father was sceptical of you, but he allowed you to stay only if you serve him from that moment on

-you mostly stuck with Epidem since you’re more familiar with him, even if he’s an odd one

-one thing I know for sure is that he would give you pudding, all types of flavours for you to try out🍮🍮🍮

-he’s like your brother/caretaker, wherever he went, you followed closely behind

-he has grown an unfamiliar attachment to you, he now felt the urge to protect you all the time

-if you got a minor injury, he would simply heal you and warn you to be more careful with the surroundings

-if you got a serious injury, he would ask you who did it, you asked why and he replied that he wanted to have a ‘chat’ with them :)

-he has become like a worried mother who needed to keep an eye on you 24/7

-def spoils you a lot, even Innocent Zero has no comment on it.

-no matter how confused you are, he would keep doing it, even when you try to protest him to stop

-in conclusion, you are precious to him and he shall protect you until his last breath😌

A/n: ok I don’t have a lot of brain juice lately so this took so long…final exams are in June😭 hope this isn’t too bad, sorry everyone!🙏🏻

[rainee-da]

will you ever write about the devil's quintuplets having sensitive ears??

i rlly want to see what you can write for famin lol

🍀 They Have Sensitive Ears

CHARACTER ❥ Doom 🪞 / Famin 🃏 / Epidem 🍮 / Delisaster 🍾 / Domina Blowelive 💧

W A R N I N G ❥ Spoilers!!!! and maybe might be a bit OOC, depending on how you interpreted the character. Slightly suggestive on Epidem's part so R15

D O O M 🪞

He should've known that you had malicious flirtatious intents when you suddenly asked him to pick you up, out of nowhere.

Then again, your request is always strange to him, so he didn't suspect a thing.

And he deemed those to be one of his biggest blunders of all time.

The position is quite funny too, he's cradling your petite figure (compared to him) like a baby while you're playfully touching and tugging on his left ear.

If you're anything but his lover, he can and WILL body-slammed you onto the floor. But fate is being cruel to him today.

If only he's not as tall as a castle gate, he'll drop you to the ground in a heartbeat lol.

You can see the vein popping out on his temple and neck, the slight movement of his mouth as he silently gritted his teeth.

Why is his skin wet? Oh, he's sweating. Profusely. Poor him

"... Will you please stop, my dear?" he questioned begged you, his voice was velvety with silent threats veiling on its tone. "This... is quite distracting."

But you, being the shithead that you are, decided to kick it up a notch by blowing onto his earlobe.

Doom is doomed lol pun intended.

His whole body jerked in response and he harshly tilted his head to the opposite side of your face to avoid your torture.

And you trigger one of his once-in-a-blue-moon events, in which you successfully painted his face with red hues.

This man is a gentleman though, a gentleman that loves you! he will not stoop low to your level and do any kind of payback towards you.

For that reason, he'll simply stay as gentlemanly as ever and wait patiently until you get bored, enduring the torture you gave him.

Seriously, help this man. He's suffering.

F A M I N 🃏

"Hey, lookie here," he called out to you when you're minding your own business, making you turn your head to greet your boyfriend, "Look at my ear."

In his right ear is a long earring with a yellow tassel at the end of its string. If you look closely, there's a bit of blood on it.

... If you think it sounds like Cell's earrings, then you think correctly.

"I saw these on Cell's ear earlier and I like it, so I borrowed it from him," and what he means by 'borrowing' is that he forcefully ripped the earring straight from the poor man's ear.

Well, guess that explains the bit of blood on it... Cell do you wanna work at my place lol

He didn't pay any mind to your nagging about his cruelty and the unsanitary. It's nothing new after all.

He also didn't pay any attention to you when you approached him to 'clean' whatever you previously talked about.

But then, you touched his ear.

Your aim is innocent. You simply want to take the earring off and clean it first before giving it back to him. But you didn't expect him to suddenly go limp and faceplant to the concrete floor below you.

No, you didn't kill him. Don't worry.

As you knelt down to check on him, you noticed his whole face had gone beet red and his lips were trembling. He looks like he's about to combust.

"... Don't... touch my ears..." his voice is croaky, almost squeaky, as he stares at you with teary eyes.

If you tried to touch his ears again, he'd let out a harsh gasp and scoot away fearfully. Shaking his head with his eyes looking at you, silently pleading for your mercy.

"Forget it! Here! I don't want it anymore!" he barked and tossed the earring to you haphazardly. His face is beet red and his whole body is trembling.

After that he quickly stood up and vanished right into thin air using his magic. Though you can still hear the crunch of his shoes as he runs away.

With this you have obtained his weakness. Use it wisely!

E P I D E M 🍮

One afternoon, you're just in his lab accompanying him as per usual while he is getting ready to with his experiments.

"... Not only that, by diluting the extract of these plants you can obtain some magical fumes that will be useful in-" his words started to get blurry as he yapped on, using phrases and jargon you didn't understand.

The only time he pays attention to you is when he wants you spoon-fed him some pudding.

Being his lover, you're used to this mode of him and it was adorable that he still wants to include you in his world, even though you barely comprehend some of what he's talking about.

And it's boring!

You mindlessly minced the pudding in front of you with a spoon as he yapped and ranted about his experiments. A scowl plastered on your face and you want him to be a boyfriend for a minute! But this man is hella stubborn goddamnit!

As his back turned towards you, an idea popped up in your head.

He's still in the middle of his work, holding a beaker and carefully pouring the liquid inside of it into the cauldron when you suddenly pop out from behind him and kiss the tip of his ear.

His focus is instantly shattered. He gasped and stumbled backward slightly, almost dropping the beaker in his hand.

"M-My sweet, what are you doing?! That's dangerous!" his face is tinted red as he stares at you bug-eyed, flustered and slightly angered by your reckless action.

But your adorable face and your pouty complaint instantly melted his heart, his anger is forgotten and evaporated into thin air. Though his heart is still pounding out of his chest due to the stimulation you gave him.

"Why didn't you say so? Come here," he cooed and opened his arms to engulf you in a big hug. He swings your body gently side by side, enjoying the sweet scent of your hair.

But If you think that you're finally going to have a wholesome moment with him, you'd be dead wrong.

Because when you let your guard down, he'll suddenly tighten his embrace and whisper into your ear, "What you did before... is very naughty, you know that right?" before giving it a teasing nibble, "How do you think I should punish you now?"

... Yeah you gonna leave with a bunch of teeth marks on your body. Don't mess with this guy fr.

D E L I S A S T E R 🍾

It's late at night, it was an exhausting day for the both of you, and going to sleep as early as possible sounds very ideal right now.

But you can't do that. Because you gotta help this manchild undo his hair.

He'll give you a cheeky grin as you grumble in annoyance while you carefully release his hair from the ring holder that helps him keep his hair shaped into a sunburst.

The fact that each lock of his tied hair is glued with gel doesn't help either. Because now you gotta brush it too.

"Aww c'mon, why the pouty face?" he tried to coax you, voice sweet as honey as he playfully kissed your free hand.

And it might work on you if only he didn't say this one wrong sentence; "You should be grateful! After all, you're tending to the bestest dude in town, Delisaster!"

Yeah this lil' shit deserves it.

His breath got caught in his throat when you suddenly slammed his body to the bed, and he couldn't help but gulp at the 'horrifying' expression on your face, "H-Heyy, if you wanna get spicy at least finish my hair first!"

He was confused when you went and rummaged the drawer near the bed. But after seeing what you're holding in your hand, the feeling of dread instantly washes over him.

What are you holding, you might ask? just some earpick!

He jolted when you unannouncedly put the steely material onto his outer ear, and he moaned shrieked when you started making the scraping motion in his ear canal.

"Eeeek! I'm sorry m' sorry! Please please please-" his plea fell onto deaf ears as you kept torturing cleaning his ear, stating that 'the gel wax went into his ears' as an excuse.

You're lying, you just want to toy with this piece of shit.

His body twitches with each stroke, as if electricity runs through his veins and shocking his nerves. He wants to run away, but for some reason, his body feels limp and he's putty in your hand.

By the time you're done with him, he's already sweating profusely. His body is trembling as he stares at you wide-eyed, breathing heavily. You broke him.

From now on, if he's being a brat just show him some earpick. He'll be as docile as a lamb (begrudgingly)

D O M I N A B L O W E L I V E 💧

"Just be patient. I just need to finish this one question and then we can cuddle," he said matter-of-factly as you kept droning and pleaded cutely for his attention.

Tomorrow is the final exam before the long break, and the both of you are having a study date in his room.

But you, of course, get bored quickly. So now you're making it your life mission to make him stop studying along with you.

Domina knows your mind like an open book though, so he also makes it his mission to ignore you until he finishes his paper.

... Not that he didn't want to cuddle, of course. Believe him, He FUCKING wants to! But it's irrational for him to not study just because of that!

One person has to be the sane one in this relationship lol.

"Why don't you just finish your paper? You just need to answer one more, right?" he didn't even look at you as he said that. He just gave you a small waving gesture as if to dismiss your presence.

No matter what act you pulled towards him, he didn't budge an inch. BUT no need to give up! Because you still have one more trick up your sleeves.

He should've known your silence means trouble. But he's naive, and he thought you just got bored and finally left him alone. Oh sweet summer child-

The ink in his pen scraped through the paper as he wrote an essay for the last question. Just one more and it will be ov-

Out of nowhere, something wet and soft touches his ear and his body instantly convulses as he lets out a girlish screech that echoed throughout the room.

You, being the piece of shit that you are, just licked his ear.

"Huh?! W-Why would you do that?!" he barked, his face as red as a tomato and covering both of his ears with his palm as he breathed heavily through his mouth.

You attempted to pry his hand away from his ear. He's stronger than you so of course you've failed to pry it away completely. But you still managed to touch the tip of his ear.

Yeah... now he's royally triggered.

"Oh it's on now!" he quickly lunged towards you and pinned you down on the floor. His face is red with a mixture of anger and flusters as he started to tickle your side relentlessly.

And now you spent an entire night with him just wrestling against each other, resulting in both of you earning a detention that lasted for a week.

... And now you two didn't finish that last question on those papers, just as you wanted.

Domina 0 - 1 You

Sorry it's taking me so long to write this! I'm in the middle of renovating my room lately and was often too tired to do anything... I can't believe I've been delaying in finishing this hcs for almost a week lol.

After this, I'm going to take it slow and write some general headcanon regarding the brothers. If you had any request, feel free to send one if ask box is open!

Anyway, sorry it's taking this long. I hope everyone enjoy it! 🍀

[podgepie]

ignore me, ahaaa... i drew this self insert and this self-ship between me and the most gorgeous warlock i've ever seen in my life. seriously just everything about them is just.. so gorgeous. i love their ambition, i love their magic, i love their talent and skills and just sheer coolness... i look up to them so much. they have so little content, i shake and weep. margarette fans... i'm saluting you... write those headcanons... draw them... give us that content with me... -- awaaa.. read the manga sketch in the last image from right to left, desu

[sukunasun]

begging you to pls elaborate on dilf geto.

more dilf geto. 

"you have a tattoo," you say when you see his bare back under fluorescent lights, exposed and gleaming with sweat. it's a late night at the gym and geto's getting in the last few reps of his set. you're meant to drop by for...something you didn't remember because nothing is as important as watching a shirtless geto do pull ups. 

he’s in the middle of his routine and it never gets old no matter how often you get to this part; muscles no longer as defined but they're there, filled out in just the right way, a little thick around the biceps, trading in washboard abs for toned lines and a nice bit of chub around the sides. adonis belt be damned, he doesn’t need one, geto's waist is perfect as it is, so sturdy you could watch him do hip thrusts all day. (...bare shoulders square and resting against a bench, hips rising and falling to a steady rhythm as he breathes through it, huffing, puffing. a drop of sweat rolls down his chest and you forcibly block out any ideas of what it would taste like on your tongue) 

"i was really impulsive back then," he explains, sheepishly grinning as he eyes it in his reflection. still stark black and fearsome, the memory of him laying flat on his front for eight hours while his old headmaster rhythmically tapped and pierced a dragon into his skin is fresh. so is the pain he endured for a roaring face over his deltoids, sharp claws and scales leading down the middle, dipping, flexing under his shoulder blades, bending and moving along as he completes the last of his workout. "although, a lot of people were put off by it," and you wonder why.

gojo offers his input, "it's intimidating? he looks like he's in a gang," and he's not wrong considering geto's fashion taste is...questionable to say the least. closet consisting of oversized t-shirts he’s picked up from the vintage store, the kind with faded graphics and tacky script, animal print button-ups that are two sizes too small—thus, said buttons become redundant when he only manages to get three of them clasped—and these silk floral shirts he’s bought in bulk from a tourist shop. over the top sure, but it’s something else too, that which lies beneath the clothes because nothing ever wears geto, he makes it work, all the time.

"don’t tell me you’re into bad boys." you hear the smirk in gojo's voice. his best friend definitely looks the part of a yakuza boss. although, it's not that either, because geto's not a boy, he's wild and sexy and just the right amount of a rebel, a man no one fucks with. comfortable in his skin, playing by his own rules. who makes your knees go weak with every new cigarette he lights, every black strand of hair that fades into silver, only getting better with age, and he embraces all of it.

its the way he carries himself, matured, confident, unapologetic. even when he’s hurriedly grabbed something of yours by accident and finds himself at a bake sale with it pulled taut and stretched over his chest, cinching around his bulging arms. ‘I’M A HOT GIRL’ it reads, and his brownie recipe has never failed him but he gives your clothing some credit, after all, he’s raised over a thousand dollars. which is quite a feat given that most of these private school snobs wouldn’t ever think to consume anything that wasn't gluten-free or low in carbs.

while in comparison, geto always cooks by taste, whether cold soba noodles and steaming white rice among an array of dishes he’s prepared by hand, he's come to realise that "a recipe is only a suggestion," he shrugs, smiling when the braised pork and tempura turn out better now that he's more generous with the seasoning. a stew boils on the stove and it makes your stomach grumble when he’s placed it before you at his dining table. he chows down, big huge clumps of rice clasped by his chopsticks, the spinach he’s blanched and mixed with the stir-fry is almost gone before you can get a taste of it, but he saves extra pieces of meat for you. the tilt of his head when he relishes in the flavour, the groans he lets out, "mhm...thats good," his voice grits behind a mouthful. his savagery on display, hunger, and pride at what he's made, that he's now sharing it with you.

gosh, you don't know how long you can stand this, here with legs spread wide on either side, geto leans back into the chair that's dwarfed by his tall frame, his whole chest out collecting the crumbs that fall, caught in the fabric of his apron with white rabbits lining the hem, jaw clenching, unclenching as he chews, fuck...does he know how beautiful he is, geto looks the picture of perfect health. who eats whatever he wants and enjoys it. all the salt and sugar, the extra bits of garlic. even when he would come off messy, sloppy, your heart clenches every time he so much as blows the spoonful of soup before feeding it to you, or that he reaches out to rub at the sauce left at the corner of your mouth, licking it off his thumb.

the act is innocent, nothing more than a kind gesture on his part. but seconds later, it sets something off in him when it dawns on him. feels that desire bubbling up, suddenly self-conscious and so aware that your bodies are so close. only separated by a feast and an unnamed...thing; an overwhelming burst of longing, heart slowing down because you can only focus on each other, he could inch just a little closer, kiss and suck that corner tasting of balsamic vinegar and sweet surrender.

"what does he have that i don't?" says every guy who tries and fails to impress, to charm. geto finds his old records one day as he's clearing out the back room. a few hundred of them nestled in a beer crate, worn from age and use, dusty, but holding all the memories in the grooves and scratches of the vinyl. decorated with the fingerprints of a younger geto in high school picking it up as a hobby not knowing how to actually hold one or care for them. now he's learned to hold them by the edges, that they should be stood upright instead of getting stacked on top of one another, keeping the pressure and weight off them. so wary of everything, gentler, patient. 

sifting through them he comes to find one that has an old and worn-out cover, running his fingers over it he relishes in the feel of the wrinkles and texture underneath, the smell so inviting and long-lasting, waxy and yellowed on the edges, only getting better with age. slipping the record out he places it gently through the center spindle, before dropping the needle on it. when the beginning sounds of a soul tune ring through the speakers, he takes a moment to relish it, crackles and all, basslines vibrating through the house.

geto pulls you closer by the hand. "dance with me," he smiles, and so do you. "forget about them," he whispers, lips pressed to your ear, holding you close, holding you tight, swaying. forget about all the other boys who make you run circles around them. you're tired of it, to say the least, of going through the talking stage, the pointless hookups, and all the ways these dates will never live up to a moment spent in his presence.

[selamat-linting]

y/n reader fantasies are a little embarrassing. i admit it. but, my fantasy of becoming tony montana's personal enemy that he always beats up by hand but never kill despite us being opposites in ideology and career is different i swear!!!

[dodgebolt]

unfollowing the lovejoy tags some of you mfs need to learn to tag your freakshit

[cinnamonest]

I'm not looking to start shit so I'm not linking it or anything, but you may have seen a recent anti-dark-content post circulating with a lot of notes making rounds in the x reader sphere and while I have nothing against people posting their feelings in their own private spaces, every time I see these kinds of posts there's a lot of misinformation that gets regurgitated in the reblogs/replies and I saw what looked like a battlezone in the replies, so.

I know posts like that can be very jarring and affects people like my readers, so to combat misinformation/shaming for anyone who saw it, I'm going to share some of my information on combatting fandom puritanism/misogyny/kinkshaming in its most common forms.

The most important fact, if you read nothing else, is this:

Most women have rape fantasies.

62% to be exact. I think the most pervasive myth on this content is that consumers are "weird" for it, when the numbers don't indicate that. You're in the majority!

The vast majority of people who have rape fantasies do not put them into practice in real life. A variety of factors can determine whether or not they do, particularly specific psychiatric disorders. (X)

To specifically address common harmful and pervasive myths:

the "go to therapy!" line

Generally any academic or professional resource will immediately tell you that consuming and engaging in "dark" fantasies is accepted and encouraged by mainstream psychiatry and part of the professional education for psychiatrists. (This also used to be pretty well-known until like the last 5 years or so, not sure why that changed.)

Here are some particularly insightful resources:

1) This article by Dr. David Wahl, in my opinion, hands-down does the best job of simply and thoroughly explaining why these fantasies occur and why couples practice CNC, as well as the fact that they are both harmless, psychologically beneficial to those with them, and not at all correlated to real-life rape.

2) Dr. Claudia Six has some of the best and most thorough material out there on the subject, specifically explaining why this is taught in mainstream academia psychology and how it is incredibly helpful to rape victims (X).

3) Lisa Diamond is a professional who focuses on this subject a lot, and was featured in the documentary "The Dilemma of Desire," in which she specifically focuses on how these fantasies are not correlated to real-life desires. (X)

4) Dr. Casey Lyle has specifically talked a lot on his socials about how fantasies, even in men/the perspective of the offender, do not correlate to actual risk of offending.

5) This article is not by a professional, but from the perspective of a survivor discussing how it is beneficial to survivors.

the "why would you want that?" line

The idea that fictional tastes = what you want to happen to you in real life is actually of misogynistic origin. I don't want to seek out or add links on this one, but if you're really curious, you can research about how the idea that "women read rape fiction, that means they secretly want rape!" was originally a classic "red pill"/MGTOW/4chan talking point that made its way into mainstream dialogue and thus the public mind in the last 15 years or so due to the incel epidemic popularizing those communities.

the "it's only valid for survivors then!" line

On one hand, yes it's very important to acknowledge that trauma victims use it to cope, however I feel that over-emphasizing that gives the impression that non-victims should be excluded from consumption of dark content, so to clarify, it's a very valid means for all women. Many women who have not personally experienced rape still fantasize about it, and that's fine.

The full explanation as to why this is true for many of them would be lengthy (and addressed in the aforementioned Dilemma of Desire documentary), but in the simplest terms, nonconsensual sex is the only context in which patriarchal society permits women to have sex at all without feeling guilt. For many women, particularly those in more heavily misogynistic or religious cultures, these fantasies are appealing because the idea of consensual sex may give them feelings of shame, guilt, "sin," etc. These fantasies allow them to experience the feeling of being desired without guilt of participation.

No society on earth is free of the psychological grip that cultural misogyny has on women, and shaming women for adapting to the conditions they are forced to exist under is as harmful as the misogyny that causes it itself.

ALL women experience a form of psychological trauma inherent to female childhood and female adolescence in a patriarchal world, and that is just as valid as coping with individual traumatic events.

Good resources on the subject of why women have these fantasies and how they are helpful in general:

(X) (X)

The "what you consume will make you do it in real life!" myth

Although the resources above already address this, it's important to establish why this myth is so prevalent and what its origins are.

The idea that consuming media with dark themes leads to or indicates desires to replicate those acts is a residual element of two major events:

1) Puritan revival culture, popularized in the US and UK in the 90s and 2000s (also known as "Satanic Panic"). A major facet of this movement was TV megachurch preachers making money off of exploiting well-meaning but paranoid parents into believing that your child playing Dungeons and Dragons or Pokemon would make them future serial killers and lure them into satanic cults. (X)

2) at the tail end of this, it was cemented in the public mind as a cultural ripple aftershock of the Columbine shooting, where this sentiment became popularized as the general public blamed violent video games like Doom and "dark" music like Marilyn Manson (whose life was temporarily completely upended by the events and took him years to recover/be safe from) for the 1999 shooting. This event had MASSIVE permanent and global effects in all sorts of ways that the public often underestimates the sheer scope of, notably that it solidified, prolonged, and, in the minds of many, "proved" the paranoias of the preexisting Satanic Panic. (X) This established a precedent, leading to virtually any major horrible event being blamed on the perpetrator's media consumption, including murder and sex crimes.

What this myth ignores in the cases it references (the slenderman stabbings, columbine, sasebo slashing, batman shooting, etc) is two crucial facts: that hundreds of millions of people consume the same media with no negative effects (helpful effects even), and that in every single case cited as "evidence" to the claim, the perpetrator had a preexisting psychiatric condition correlated to acts of violence (which usually went ignored, downplayed and even accelerated/worsened by those around them rather than the help they needed).

Sorry for the wall of text, but I feel an ethical obligation to combat this kind of misinformation, and I hope these resources are helpful for those who may be negatively affected by common misunderstandings.

You are not abnormal or wrong for the fictional content you consume or the fantasies you have!

[archiverstappen]

appendix touch ✧ max verstappen

max verstappen x ferrari! fem! reader

masterlist

the beloved ferrari heiress just had her appendix removed, and now the whole world is convinced that she's going to start an epidemic

[messages]

[instagram]

[twitter]

[instagram]

yn_ferrari

liked by maxverstappen1 and 1.735.028 others

yn_ferrari I understand that, without my agreement, my father has put out an instagram story this afternoon that makes it seem like I’m dying. This is true, I do feel like I’m dying. I’m having my appendix removed.

view all 1.832 comments

maxverstappen1 Will get that win for you 💙

↳ yn_ferrari no, thanks ❤️

↳ papaferrari Please let Carlos/Charles win for Y/N’s faster recovery 😊

username SHE’S SO UNSERIOUS 😭

oscarpiastri 🤨

↳ yn_ferrari poet of the century

alex_albon Been there, done that

↳ yn_ferrari teach me your ways, master

username THANK GOD IT’S JUST AN APPENDIX

username get well soon mother

carlossainz55 Get well soon, mi hermana 😂

↳ yn_ferrari soy lago

↳ landonorris stop copying me 😒

charles_leclerc Fake 🤭

↳ yn_ferrari i’ll pinch your appendix with my bare hands so you’d know how it feels

↳ alexandrasaintmleux 😨

↳ yn_ferrari look away, my love 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

scuderiaferrari Get well soon, Boss ❤️

[messages]

[instagram]

[twitter]

[instagram]

scuderiaferrari

liked by papaferrari and 2.736.991 others

scuderiaferrari Patient 0, Patient 1, and Charles 😄 The gang is finally back in a land down under 🦘

tagged yn_ferrari, carlossainz55, charles_leclerc

view all 2.155 comments

username Y/N YOU BETTER STAY AWAY FROM CHARLES 😭

papaferrari My children 🧒🧒🧒

username favorite trio ever

username the fact that we won't be seeing them together again next year 😞

yn_ferrari admin... what's with the caption? 🙂

↳ scuderiaferrari Hi boss, please don't fire me

charles_leclerc I'm a survivor ❤️‍🩹

↳ yn_ferrari you're next 👹

↳ papaferrari Don't say that kind of thing, I can't have all of my children go through the same surgery three weeks in a row

↳ charles_leclerc 🤪🤪🤪 yn_ferrari

↳ carlossainz55 We'll try again next time yn_ferrari

username she's got that appendix touch, because every appendix that she touches starts to burst 🤷‍♀️

↳ yn_ferrari HELP 💀

[twitter]

[instagram]

yn_ferrari

liked by maxverstappen1 and 3.283.332 others

yn_ferrari beyond proud of what you guys achieved today, words can't describe how i feel! and no, contrary to popular belief i had nothing to do with max's dnf 😮‍💨

ps. someone said i've got the appendix touch, soo... if you're interested just hit me up

view all 3.122 comments

maxverstappen1 🙍‍♂️

maxverstappen1 Enjoy it while it lasts, Schat 😑

↳ yn_ferrari I will 😽

redbullracing You're temporarily banned from our garage🙏

↳ yn_ferrari I DIDNT DO ANYTHING?!

↳ redbullracing A source spotted you touching the rear wing of Max's car 💔

↳ yn_ferrari THAT'S A LIE.... scuderiaferrari STEP UP?

↳ scuderiaferrari Sorry, we're too focused on celebrating P1 and P2

↳ mercedesamgf1 Wow, can't relate scuderiaferrari

username why is there a video of you running down the pitlane after race, pls explain 😭

↳ yn_ferrari i was watching the race with max at red bull’s hospitality 🏃‍♀️💨

carlossainz55 Us 1 - Appendicitis 0 🍾

↳ yn_ferrari yes sir 🫡

charles_leclerc Can I have my appendix removed too? papaferrari

↳ papaferrari No

landonorris Do mine next, I need to win

alex_albon Can I have my appendix removed again?

↳ yn_ferrari control your man lilymhe 😭

↳ lilymhe bffr 🤬

username FORZA FERRARI SIEMPRE

↳ yn_ferrari rrrAAAGHHHH 🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎🐎

scuderiaferrari We're so happy, our appendix literally burst 🥹

↳ username new merch idea?

↳ scuderiaferrari Noted 📝

papaferrari Dinner on me tonight 😎 carlossainz55 charles_leclerc

↳ charles_leclerc Finally

↳ carlossainz55 On my way!

↳ maxverstappen1 Can I come too?

↳ papaferrari I guess so, Y/N would be mad if I didn't invite you

↳ charles_leclerc Max got a pity invite 🤭

↳ yn_ferrari KEEP MY BOYFRIEND'S NAME OUT OF YOUR F-ING MOUTH

↳ lewishamilton Can i come? 🤔

↳ carlossainz55 My wound is still fresh...

↳ yn_ferrari LET HIM HAVE THIS ONE, SIR. WE'LL SEE YOU NEXT YEAR 🤗

--

pictures (c) to pinterest and instagram

[fellow-anime-weeb927]

hiii, could you write a headcanon for Famin x reader where she live with him and his family and how the others will treat her

You can either use she/they ( sorry for my English, it's not my first language)

Famin eh? I’ll try my best to do that! Also you’re English is alright! Thanks for requesting nonnie!✨

Famin x Gn!Reader (I wanna make everyone feel included <3)

Innocent Zero

-he definitely has a lot of doubt on whether you would interfere their daily lifestyle

-but seeing his son more focused than before when you’re here

-he’ll make an exception���only if you stay loyal to him for eternity

-do expect him to be very strict and force you to train, otherwise how would you be able to protect him and yourself??

-he would occasionally glance at you and Famin, monitoring you two silently, making sure you aren’t causing any trouble

-he would treat you with some tea once in a blue moon🍵

Doom

-he would be supportive

-we all know he’s probably the nicest sibling of them all, so he would be welcoming you as Famin’s partner

-he would ask about your relationship and how it’s going, just to make sure you’re both alright

-he would be curious how strong you can be, if you accept training with him, he would go easy on you first

-imagine using him as a punching bag, hitting him with little punches and kicks? That would be adorable aww!

-he would praise and encourage you with words like ‘do it for your boyfriend’ and ‘protect yourself and the ones you care about’

Epidem

-pudding. What else?🍮

-he would trick you with his friendly side and then hurt you

-but when he finds out that you are his brother’s partner, he starts to be nicer for real

-he is a gentleman at times so he would treat you like a sibling

-imagine gossiping with him while enjoying the pudding he gave you lol

-expect him to gift you desserts occasionally

Delisaster

-he would bully you, drag you to party with him

-also would force you to drink wine if you rarely/never do

-would call you nicknames like wimp, scaredy-cat, even nerd!

-but he just wants you to be tougher, enjoy life while you still can, you only live once, gotta make sure you live the most of it

-‘Someone had to do it nerd! Now drink this!’ ~Delisaster

Domina (yay~)

-he would be surprised

-he would ask you if you’re sure you wanna date his brother, since he thinks he can’t pull anybody (cue Famin chasing Domina down-)

-but if you’re sure you wanna be with him, he’ll respect it

-he would give you a heads-up about father (Innocent Zero), he’ll tell you how cruel, sick and twisted he is, he doesn’t want you to get hurt by him too

-he would be blunt sometimes, so his words might sting you

-he’s just too used to being mistreated and obeying his father’s commands :(

There we go!~ Hope you enjoyed!✨

[rainee-da]

🍀 What They Said When You Sleep [1]

CHARACTER ❥ Doom 🪞 / Famin 🃏 / Epidem 🍮 / Delisaster 🍾 / Domina Blowelive 💧 / Cell War 💎

W A R N I N G ❥ Spoilers!!!! and maybe might be a bit OOC, depending on how you interpreted the character. PG-15 because it's kinda dark & yandere-ish, also this will be quite angst-ty.

D O O M 🪞

"... Are you asleep, my dear?" he waits for your reply, but hear no answer "I see..." he walks closer and sits beside your sleeping figure "... Do you know, when I first met you I thought you were peculiar," hand reaches out to brush your hair "Your small head... the fragility of your neck... each of your limbs..." lean closer to your face, whispering "... If I desire your demise, all I have to do right now is move my hands, and you will be destroyed." long pauses "You must've known from the start that I'm a dangerous existence..." he twirls a piece of your hair in his finger "And despite knowing that, you decided to be by my side..." low whisper "... Why?" pauses "I know you explained it to me before... but none of your explanation is rational..." sigh softly "To live, is to survive... to survive, rationality is absolute... And you're no fool," long pauses, then he mumble lowly "That, I know for a long while now." hands crept down to cup one of your cheek "... Which begs the question once again... Why?" he moves the hair that is in the way of your face to the side "Is that really what it means to truly love someone? To trust them unconditionally?" paused briefly "Even when it's illogical to do so?" long pauses ".... Funny for me to say that, I'm aware," he let out a low chuckles "The same thing could also be said about me." his thumbs moves to caress your cheek ".... Your skin is cold... They said that when you're cold, your skin goes pale in color as well," mumbles quietly "I wonder what your skin might've look like..." fingers trails gently, tracing each inch of your skin "In my daydream... I often tried to paint your picture in my head... to envision your figure, your face," hands stop on your chin, thumb lay flat on your lips "... It left me frustrated, every time." exhale harshly with a hint of frustration, thumb moves to brush your lips "You're such a frustrating existence," finger trails upwards to caress your cheek "You're nothing but a speck of dust in this world that is full of deceit. You will wither first when the battle of power started." heads lean closer slowly "... Father told me long ago, to get rid of you. Because you will be a burden in the long run," he stops as his noses touches yours "And he was correct... you're a nuisance. You.. become my weakness... You're frustating, because you're dangerous to me. But If you were to perish, to leave..." his words hangs in the open, expression become slightly grim after a long pause, a small smile formed on his face, his eyes opened behind the mask and white irises glimmering in the shadow "... That is why, my Dear... you should be obedient. To stay by my side, to never leave..." leans closer, lips ghosted over yours "... Because I am the only one who can, and is allowed, protect you." "𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦, 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘺𝘰𝘶?"

F A M I N 🃏

"Hey, are you asleep?" his head hover over your space, awaiting your response "... That's boring." he lay himself beside you, staring into the empty space above "... This is boring. Why do you sleep anyway? Is today tiring for you?" he turn his head towards you, staring at your sleeping figure ".... Your face is so peaceful right now, I wonder if you were dreaming right now," he scoots closer, staring at your face closely "If you're dreaming, I want you to dream about me. Can you do that for me?" he whisper over your ears long silence as he stares over your face "... For some reasons, I always asks for permission when it comes to you," he murmurs quietly "Waiting for your permission is boring. But If I take it by force, You'll be upset." his voice breaks slightly "I don't want you to be upset." he sighed, hands reaches out to hug you from the side "Why are you so boring? I should've get rid of you, right? Boring person should be eradicated after all." his eyes is closed, thinking for a while "But... no, you're not boring. You're boring, but not boring. How does that even make any sense? I don't know." he lets out a snort and giggle silently "Yeah, no... you're not boring. You're never boring. After all, even in your silence right now..." his hand reach out to rub your cheek "... It's entertaining. You're fun, even when you're sleeping you're fun. Hey, how do you even do that?" "... For some reason, I always notice new things about you. Like, I didn't know you had a small patch of freckle over here?" his hand moved to a part of your body "Or that you breathe differently when you sleep? You never tell me about that... or maybe you didn't know yourself?" he smirked "Then I'm the first one to know... now, that's exciting. That's fun," he nuzzle his head on the nook of your neck "Waiting for you to wake up is boring... but I think sometimes boring stuff is okay too, no?" his eyes glance up "After all, you're so peaceful right now. I think it would be even better if you snore. Snoring means you're having a deep sleep, right? Hey, why don't you snore?" he pinched your cheek lightly he slowly rised, towering over you "... You're the only thing in the world that is not boring, no matter how much time I spent with you. I wonder why..." he leans forward, smiling and pressing his lips to your forehead "... I don't know why, but that doesn't matter. What's matter that I'll never gets bored of you, so you should never get bored of me, alright?" "𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙖𝙛𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙡𝙡."

E P I D E M 🍮

"Oh my, you're asleep?" he walked towards you, picking up blanket along the way and drape it over your body "Sleeping like this... I'm right. I knew you're tired the entire afternoon, I've seen your eyes flutters sometimes, trying to hold a grip. I told you to rest, but you're so stubborn." he caresses your cheek, tilting his head slightly "... You're always so stubborn, acting as if you knew your own body when that's factually not true... I dare to say that, I knew you better than yourself," he crooked a smile "After all, I have observe you all this time, noted the common pattern of your expression and your body language you made in your every interaction. There's nothing you can hide from me." he leans forward, whisper lowly over your ear "You always blown my expectation, and create a new one in its place. Your existence is a pure enigma, no amount of calculations I've done made your existences make sense," he stroked your hair gently "It's.... interesting, to say the least." he sits beside you, took one of your hand and brush it under his thumb "The softness of your skin... the elasticity of it... It's a delight," he kissed your fingertips, closing his eye and hums softly "You're always such a sweet person, one of a kind for me... It's simply irresistible, I could just eat you right up." he lets out a chuckle and gave the tip of your finger a small nibble "Well, of course I wouldn't do that... it would be a waste." he puts your hand down "A waste... yeah, without you would be such a waste. How am I even living before I met you? Oh, yeah. Pudding, of course." he laughed briefly, but expression darkened "Pudding is my euphoria. That, you already know. But now, you... all the memories I have with pudding, your presence... always comes along with it. Buying it, making it, enjoying it, it's always with you now..." his voice lowered, whispering to himself "Is there a day where I didn't enjoy Pudding with you? I knew Pudding all my life, it's a part of my soul. So, of course I have enjoyed pudding without you before... but now, I can't seem to remember it anymore," he sighed and look over your sleeping figure with a solemn smile "Without me realizing, you crawled into my heart and made yourself my new addiction... that's so cunning, my Sweet one." he chuckles softly and brush his hand over your hair "Well, that doesn't matter now. You're my Sweet now," his thumb rub the tip of your chin gently "From now and so on, we'll make tons of sweet memories. I'll give you everything, I'll do anything for you, all you have to do for me is to sit calmly radiate your sweetness to me, okay?" "𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙪𝙜𝙖𝙧, 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙣𝙜."

D E L I S A S T E R 🍾

"Heyyy you wanna- Awww, you're sleeping?" he cooed, stride over to you sleeping figure "Look at that eepy face, ain't that just the cutest? Why are you so fucking cute anyway?" he pinched both sides of your cheek a bit hard, making you wince slightly in your sleep "Hehe, sorry sorry, didn't mean to, y'know?" he lays besides you "I was thinking to bring you to my club. Y'know? Get some party going and all that jazz, but if you're passed out like this there's no way that can happen, right?" he turned his body towards you and poke your cheek playfully "N' seeing you sleepy makes me sleepy too! so I guess I will sleep with you now." he lay on his back, staring into the open space above the both of you "... Y'know, every time you sleep, or well... away, I got extra lonely," his eyes flutters as sleepiness started to crept to his eyes "I didn't expect you'll give me that kind of effect, y'know? especially when I first met 'cha. I expect we'll simply chill around, get spicy here n' there, then I'll log out... like usual," he yawned and his eyes glances towards you, expression softened "But when I got to know you, It's like... you put a spell on me. And it was annoying as hell! Me? The God Almighty Delisaster? Being a simp?" he snorted and laughing to himself "Yea that statement ended up not aging well at all. I feel like a beta male now, yikes!" he turned his head, eyes droopy and soft smile on his face "... But then again, what's wrong with that, right?" he scooted closer, leaning slightly onto you "... With you, I seems to relearn a lot of things again. How to... ugh, be gentleman," he gags sarcastically "Or learning how to wash my own clothes. Honestly, why the fuck did you make me do that? I have a bunch of aides to do my bidding, you know that!" he laughed again, but as the time passed by his expression becomes slightly saddened "And... you made me relearn... how to love," he snorted again, finding himself to be funny "It's so cringe to say that out loud, didn't it?" he stroked your cheek, his eyes radiating with a mixture of sadness and adoration "... I'm know that my personal magic is not as cool as my bros... I know pops think that I'm the weakest link, the bottom-fragger... It's fucking sucks, y'know?" he sighed "There's supposed to be this line of hierarchy among us. The first minced the second, the second stabbed the third, the third... poison, yeah... poisoned the fourth. That guy used to inject me with his weird concoction when I was a child." he chuckled, his face darkened "By that logic, I should've been considered stronger than the lil' Domi, right? I dunno, the fourth impale the fifth? But no, of course not. Because for some twisted sort of luck my little brother has stronger magic than me," he laughed but his is voice wavered slightly, eyes closing "I stopped practicing my magic... because why even try? I'm weak anyway. It's better to enjoy life while I can before pops uh... I dunno, discard me? I don't know if he would do that... but he already has my heart. So why wouldn't he, right?" thin smile slowly formed in his face "But well... at least I have you, don't I?" he mumble, hand reaches to grab yours and hold it tightly "You... accept me as I am. You made me feel like a king. Like, nothing will ever bother me anymore. No insult in the world will ever made a dent of me now. Now I have you! you're my... therapy animal? Haha, you'll kill me if you heard that, right?" his voice is now barely a whisper as sleepiness slowly overtaking him "𝙇𝙚𝙩'𝙨 𝙖𝙡𝙬𝙖𝙮𝙨 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙤𝙜𝙚𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 𝙛𝙧𝙤𝙢 𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙤𝙣, 𝙮𝙚𝙖𝙝?"

D O M I N A B L O W E L I V E 💧

"Oh, you're asleep," he closed the book he's been reading and smiles "You'll get a sore neck if you sleep like that, why don't you sleep over here?" he gently guided your head to fall onto his lap, trying to stifle a giggle while doing so "You're so cute... we have to go to our dorm soon, but why don't you sleep for a bit more before we did that? I will wake you up in an hour, okay?" he brushes his finger through your hair, his smile is gentle "You seems so peaceful.. did you feel safe with me? I hope you do..." he rubbed his thumb to your ear "It makes me happy to think that you feels safe enough to be this relaxed..." he mumbled quietly "It makes me happy that there's someone whom is not scared of me..." "... If I think about it, you used to fear me a lot, didn't you?" he averts his eyes as embarrassment crept up inside him "I didn't blame you... I used to act cold around you, raise my voice a lot, be distant... I thought if I did that you'll be safe from people that want to target me, but my action ended up hurting you, making you cry..." his voice breaks as his eyes wavered, thinking about the past "... Anyway, I didn't tell you about this because I don't want you to worry about me, but... I go to the prison yesterday, to visit my father and... I guess also my brothers," he snorted and rolled his eyes "They're the whole package after all," sigh escape his mouth as he closed his eyes, hands brushing your hair with his fingers "Father refused my visitation. It.. hurts, but it's no longer as painful as it was a few times before. I think I have slowly grown to accept it," he glances towards the open space above him, thinking to himself "As for my brother... I thought they also would reject me as well. But surprisingly they didn't, and... it was actually rather nice?" confusion flashes in his eyes and his brows knitted together, unable to believe the word he's saying himself "I don't know if they're slowly turning a new leaf or they're actually not as bad as I remembered them to be, but they seems... normal. And I had a somewhat great conversation with them." a small smile formed in his lips, he looks at you and pinched your cheek gently "I wonder if you're my good luck charm?" he laughed, his eyes smile as he does so "After I met you, all sorts of crazy things happened around me. Many of them are overwhelming, sometimes it even upsets me. But your presence by my side makes all of it bearable, and now my life is finally... perfect. I had friends, I reconcile with my brother and even befriend Mash, I got my freedom, I can finally recover from my past, and..." he leans forward, whisper softly into your ears "... I finally had a place to call home, which is you," he gave your temple a long kiss, his eyes is filled with adoration "... I used to be so cruel to you. I... don't deserve your forgiveness. But you gave me one, along with your love... I can never thank you enough, even if I die," his hand shakes slightly as tears build up in his eyes "But, if you allow me... Let me be your rock. Use me as your anchor when your sea is storming. Let me be your sword in your adventure. I promised to always cheris, love, and protect you. I will give you everything, absolutely everything..." "𝙔𝙤𝙪'𝙧𝙚 𝙢𝙮 𝙨𝙖𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙧, 𝙢𝙮 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙢𝙮 𝙚𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙩𝙮."

C E L L W A R 💎

"... This brat, sleeping whenever they pleases," he grumbled as he draped the blanket on top of you "Honestly, how can you be so relaxed, sleeping in a dangerous place like this?" he picked up your body bridal-style and go to his room to lay you on his bed "You're so reckless. I wonder where you get that from? I can't always protect you! The castle is a dangerous place for weak people like you," his face darkened slightly as he brushed your hair with his finger "If one of the young masters found you... at best, you'll be killed. At worst..." his word hangs in the hair, his tone is low and brooding he let out a exasperated sighs and tossed the thorns in his hair to the side "... You didn't need to hear that, even in your sleep," he lied besides you, hands supporting his head as he peered over your face "... You seems at peace. I wonder if the blanket is warm enough for you?" his face becomes solemn as he's lost in his own thoughts "... I wonder how does it feels to be warm..." "Well, it's useless to ponder on such a ridiculous thoughts," he sighed slightly, he put his palm on your stomach and gave it a soothing pat "Warmth is for the living, so is comfort. I'm nothing but a living corpse, or I guess you prefer to call me... what did you said again before? a 'hot zombie'?" he chuckles, his brow furrowed in slight irritation though he is smiling "Your brain is really bizzare. It pops out the weirdest thought and somehow you seems to think that it's normal to say it out loud," he snorted and laughed to himself "Well, I guess that made you fun to be around, I guess." he lay his head to the pillow and sighed "Fun... that's the feeling only you could gave me," he closed his eyes "Working with Master is gratifying and humbling, of course. He resurrected me, gave me life in turn for my undying loyalty. But, I wouldn't say that it is... enjoyable." his brows knit together in irritation "Again... I shouldn't be thinking of useless thought, aren't I?" he sighed again, his eyes opened and glances and sneak a peek at your face "You know, ever since I was resurrected, I never dream anymore... I always thought that it might be the side effect of being a living dead, and I suppose it might be better for me to not dream anyway, since I'm sure it will be littered with nightmares, but..." his expression softened and his hand goes up to stroke your cheek "... Yesterday, I just had my first dream... and you're in it," he closed his eyes as his hand stroke your face gently "In my dream, I'm wearing some sort of uniform... and bringing a carton full of milk. I think I'm a milkman? That's so ridiculous, right?" he chuckled "After I finished my last delivery, I ride my bike and go to a small block of apartment. I think in my dream that's where I live. Because I unlocked one of the door and... there you are, in it," he was silent for a minute as he's stuck with his own thoughts " We had a dinner together in the sofa, washes the dishes together, and cuddle on the bed until we dozed off. It was so... peaceful." he smiled with a sad expression "... Yeah, this why I shouldn't be dreaming. Dream can bring... unnecessary thoughts and feelings. I should do my best to forget about it, since it will potentially hinder my performance, But..." he leans forward and gives your lips a chaste kiss, a dreamy smile in his face "Seeing you this peaceful... I just can't help but entertain that thought." "𝙄 𝙬𝙞𝙨𝙝 𝙄 𝙘𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙡𝙞𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚 𝙬𝙞𝙩𝙝 𝙮𝙤𝙪."

I got this idea from somewhere else, and trying out this new layout since I'm just focusing onto the dialogue when I wrote this. I hope it's not confusing for you to read!

I go with a villain angle when I'm writing this so that's why you might find some of the dialogue to be a tad bit creepy. I really wanted it to be in-character so I reread the manga a whole lot while I wrote this lol I almost gagged when I tried to write Delisaster my boo like why did u talk like that omg I hope you like my potrayal of each character!

I had fun writing this one, and I hope you'll enjoy it too🍀

[queenendless]

😷🤒Sick Day(Adult!SatoSugu x Sick!Fem!Reader)🤒😷

A/N: Yep this is part of that SatoSugu Teacher AU alongside Moving Day and Nights.

Also, announcement. I have smut writing fatigue after just putting out one and I'm down with a cold right now. So that vampire AU gang bang piece is happening next month. I'm so sorry for this yall. Thanks though to everyone who commented on that and helped me decide.

But I will hopefully be posting a JJK Halloween piece to make up for it. A headcannon/ imagined scenario where the JJK cast celebrate Halloween with my ideal fave pairings in couples costumes and such in this what if AU. And yas it gonna be SatoSugu x Fem or GN reader, idk on that part yet.

All credit for JJK and its characters goes to the madman that is Gege.

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy!

Your throat feels raw.

Your nose feels stuffy.

And you kept coughing every few minutes.

You should have figured spotting a curse forming from a virus epidemic happening in the hotel across the street would pose a high ass risk of getting infected yourself.

But as a Window, it was your job, as life risking as it was.

The more people inside and around the building got infected, the Grade 4 grew closer to Grade 3. If it kept up, dozens upon hundreds would die.

"Ijichi-san. Disease curse. Transitioning from Grade 4 to Grade 3. Requesting sorcerer help here immediately." You struggled speaking over the phone as you kept coughing, dispatching the address to him, seeing the revolting curse grow in size as its toxic presence spilled, tripping as you tried keeping your distance.

Your head was pounding and you could barely focus as Ijichi-san panicked on his end.

"L/n-san!? L/N-SAN!"

In a moment of ailment, you dropped your phone, causing it to disconnect from the impact.

You were barely able to keep a grip on your phone or walk without faltering as you felt more drained with each passing moment. You blinked a lot as you tried staying alert, stumbling before collapsing against a parked empty vehicle on the street, sliding down to your bum just to rest your aching head against your knees, hugging your legs to your chest.

That curse's smogs began spreading down the streets, into traffic, and nearby occupied establishments.

Believing help wouldn't get here in time through the systematic process, you opted for your wild card, shakily picking up your now cracked screen device.

"Toru. Curse problem. Get here ASAP. Please." Texting the address in your feverish haste, you pressed send before curling in on yourself, welcoming sleep to rest your aching self.

In just under the next few minutes — more like moments — you felt a boom in the cursed energy atmosphere, that curse no longer being sensed. At last, it was done.

The shift from freezing metal to cozy soft fabric stirred you awake a bit. Along with the feel of solid warm arms draped around your shoulders and under your knees. Those big smooth hands squeezing your shoulder and your kneecap had you tugging weakly on the front of that top, pressing your face against your makeshift pillow, struggling to open your eyes as your hearing painted the picture for you in the meantime.

"A majority will spend weeks recuperating. The ones closest to the cause will spend months in the hospital at best. Still though, no casualties. Thank you for the help." High chances it was one of the many medics on site for post cleanup.

"You can thank the young woman here for that. She was the first responder, after all. I'll tend to her recovery myself. Sayonara." You know that voice right away, even when he was muffled, relaxing further in his hold.

"This cold isn't going away anytime soon. Too bad reversed cursed techniques don't make the common cold go away." Your half lidded eyes still had him swooning at how frail and precious you were in his arms.

You murmured, noticing him in his black long sleeved top, matching sweatpants, and face mask with the blindfold. "Blindfolded giant." That's when you realized a face mask was put on you as well, your muffled coughs hitting cloth.

You could already picture him beaming, grinning, as he laughed a bit.

"Correction. Your blindfolded giant, darling~ Now then, let's get you home."

°•��•°•○•°•○•°

Geto typing away on his computer, working on his latest reports.

Gojo straddling his lap, hugging him as he napped against his dear best friend slash hubbie.

The former smiling fondly at the motion before picking up where he left off was their situation before both men's phones began vibrating and ringing.

"Geto-san! L/n-san has reported a disease curse spotting! But she was cut off before I could get further details!"

"She just texted me the location." The sleepiness was wiped away, replaced with firm seriousness, as Gojo started getting off of him to get some shoes on.

"Ijichi-san, do not fret. Satoru will handle the curse." Geto calmly responded over the phone before speaking concerningly to his snowy-haired hubbie. "Toru, bring a face mask in case the affected area reaches where you land post teleport."

Said man smooched his hubbie in kind before slipping on the black face mask to match his current apparel. "Wait up for us, Sugu~"

Seeing you both back, teleporting into your home office, Suguru smooched Satoru the moment he took that face mask right off. Pressing the back of his palm against your forehead to double check for a fever, Suguru's dismay was warranted.

So being there when you awoke from your fever dream tucked in the middle of your guys' giant bed meant Suguru patting your now sweating forehead with a wet rag, you trembling from chills raking your skin followed by feeling warmer the next minute as you coughed into a tissue he handed to you.

"Well dearest, you've got yourself a nasty cold here." Suguru noted with a gray face mask on as well, seated by you on his side of the bed.

"Ah bah." Your raspy spat earned you a cough into your fist before you were offered a filled up water bottle by Satoru who was sitting behind you on his side; blindfold off but face mask back on.

"Welp, I exorcized the curse and brought your cute self back here. Plus I got that report to work on in your precious stead. So you're welcome." He gently ran his fingers through your hair to ease you in whatever way he could.

"Thank you Toru." You slowly sat up and were then handed some cold pills by Suguru to down some water with. "Thank you Sugu."

"Now that we've made our home Ground Zero, you are hereby confined to this room. Drink plenty of fluids. Take your medicine. Get lots of rest. Do you hear me, young lady?" Suguru's smart ass tone made you pout.

"Yes mom." You murmured raspy.

Satoru snorted behind his face mask to which Suguru whacked him in the shoulder across from him with narrowed eyes. "At least Megumi and the twins are living in the dorms now and Tsumiki was able to convince her classmate to stay at her place for a while. Meaning we three have the place to ourselves~"

"Does that mean … I have to sleep by myself?" You whimpered, cracking their resolve. "Neither the Gojo Geto bears, nor the Gojo Geto cats, not even the Gojo Geto giant round plushies can substitute for the real deal." You moped, pointing at said custom made toys lined up on the window seat on the far side of the room.

"Aww, Suguru, how can we deny our lovely sweetheart the company of her valiant handsome knights in the flesh, huh~!?" Satoru dramatized his own cries, muffled though.

Suguru sighed, consigning. "At least one of us should. Who else will be teaching the first years in the meantime?"

"Round robin, then? Last one left standing tends to that noble martyr and gets our dear sweetheart to be their own personal nurse in the end … huh …" That hum and those inquiring eyes could only bode mischief. "I volunteer Suguru to go first!"

"Not gonna happen, Satoru." He immediately denied.

"But to be fed by, bathed by and be doted on by our angel is heaven sent~!" Satoru gushed.

"Which is why you shouldn't be the only one getting that special treatment!" Suguru being jealous at possibly being left out on that.

"Hey!" Your strained shout ends in a coughing fit, curled up in bed, sniffling to which Suguru hands you a big enough tissue to blow your nose in. "I'm dying here."

"Hmm … Yu could fill in." Satoru suggested.

"He is working as a teaching aid part time. And he did say he could help out whenever we needed it." Suguru added.

"Plus Nanamin is on a business trip for the week~ He'll need something to do while waiting for his beloved's return~!" Satoru teased.

"That settles it then." Suguru was smirking behind that mask, you could just tell.

"How lucky you are, darling, to have the strongest duo be your own personal nurses~" Satoru was so smirking his ass off.

"Even though you'll literally get sick of me?" You shyly asked, squeezing your bottle, apprehensive.

"We have strong ass immune systems, Y/n. Comes with over a decade of immense training." Satoru prided on, kissing your flushed cheek.

"If we can risk ourselves in the face of death as sorcerers, this is nothing." Suguru assured, kissing your other flushed cheek. "I'll call Haibara."

"I'll start up a bath for us all. Thank you big ass bathtubs." Satoru clapped to that.

"What do I do?" Even when sick, tilting your head and batting those eyes made the duo smooch your lips at once.

"Just be a good little patient for us, alright, honey?" God that wink of Suguru's left you more hot than usual as he walked off to make that call.

"Besides, being sick with you means being granted a sick leave and getting paid for it! Ah, thank you, my darling sweetheart~!" Satoru did hug you, nuzzle his face in your hair, and left you a wheezing mess.

"Y - You're w - welcome!"

Well, on the bright side, at least you'll all be sick together.

Snuggled in bed, among discarded tissues, wrappers of cough drops, and smooshed in one big embrace of entangled limbs while binging nothing but sitcoms, movies, and anime.

You would eventually get better in a week's time then later tend to your two enamored, affectionate partners and get them back into tip top shape.

But until then, being in their cozy arms, sleeping smack dabbed in between them, that might as well be the key on your quick road to recovery.

The SatoSugu cure, indeed!

[jiminrings]

pink sapphire

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 11k

glimpse: having jungkook for a husband is great as far as arranged marriages could go; he's easy to love. your relationship's perhaps become so easy that jungkook doesn't think sometimes — and that's what makes it the easiest for you to hate him.

alternatively, you and jungkook married each other for business, but the both of you stay for love.

[ angst, arranged marriage au, fluff n really wholesome scenes (it cancels out the angst i swear), Jungkook Tries Hard (affectionate), miscommunication, jealousy, self-deprecation, sexual innuendos (no actual smut here!!), did i already say that jungkook tries rlly hard and is remorseful the whole time ]

notes: my year-ender fic for 2022 :) thank u for being here — i'm grateful for all ur love n support!! i'll see u in the next one <3

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s a vocal person.

Your husband does not leave a single thought unspoken, sometimes his thinkpieces too impulsive that when he says them in public, you try to play it off by either distancing yourself with him or from him.

“I think the world would be just fine even if all the bees disappear,” Jungkook once said to you with conviction, midway into chewing his cheeseburger. “There’s articles about it proving otherwise but they’re too long for my attention span, but yeah, I don’t think it would be that bad, y’know?” he giggles, looking up at the ceiling in serious thought. “If anything, the Bee Movie taught us that-…” 

Jungkook yelps automatically when you pinch his thigh, your hand sternly gripping his knee like both your reputations depended on it (they really did). “Jungkook, we’re literally in a climate change gala right now.”

“I don’t think coffee’s ever that serious. Seriously, world barista championships? New techniques in supposedly making the best cup of coffee when you’re all just gonna shit it ten minutes later? It’s not that deep,” Jungkook once whispered to you in urgency, his annoyance through the roof. He’s glued to your side, intent on whispering all about his irritation.

“Jungkook, I’m begging you,” you wince, screwing your eyes shut and slowly moving the two of you to the far end of the room. “We were literally right next to your uncle whose new wife is the organizer for that very championship you’re shitting on.”

“We need to talk about the tote bag epidemic,” Jungkook once whisper-yelled to you in a rush, holding you by the arm because he just can’t contain his inner thoughts any longer. You’re thankful, sure, that you’re your husband’s go-to person for all of his random thoughts; it’s just that he picks the worst settings to tell them to you.“They look kinda tacky, everybody deludes themselves that they’re functional even if they have zero pockets, and-…”

“And you just offended atleast three different age groups and all of them are in this café. We need to leave.”

Jungkook’s endearing this way, raw and a tad bit annoying. He’s expressive as much as he’s vocal, his hand slotted on your waist like second nature to him. Being married to him isn’t bad. Sure, the circumstances of your union in the first place were for business anyway, but the both of you understood and agreed at the end of the day. By all means, he’s ideal — ideal until he opens his mouth when he’s sleeping.

If there’s anything that your two years of marriage (and counting) to Jungkook makes you realize, it’s that you should value your peace and sanity more than anything.

“Are you trying to kill me?”

Jungkook groggily asks you with one eye open, conveniently seeing you in the act of hovering around him with an ominous object in your hand. Maybe it’s the sleep in his eyes or the fog in his brain, but when you look at him like this– bothered and passionately frustrated, it makes him love you even more.

“No,” you mutter, the snoring mouth strip in your hands just begging to be put on already. “I’m trying to make you quiet.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

Perhaps it’s the sleep in your eyes or the fog in your brain, but you swear you just saw your husband crack a smirk despite keeping you up multiple nights a week, especially for the past month. He’s not endearing tonight, not at all.

“Isn’t marriage all about accepting each other’s flaws?” Jungkook frowns, about to turn on his side when you put your knee to block him.

“We’re arranged,” you deadpan. “I can’t accept you snoring with bass and reverb every night, Jungkook. I can barely sleep.”

“But didn’t you tell me you like it when I make noises?” Jungkook glares playfully. Bringing up your sex life with him out of the blue almost always does the trick, but it probably won’t work tonight now that you’re only awake and breathing heavily from sheer annoyance. “That you adore me whenever I tell you how much I love it?”

“Jungkook,” you hiss, tempted to flick him on the forehead in his sleep repeatedly so he’ll wake up with a mark. “Will you let me put the snoring strip on you or do we divorce?”

“Divorce,” he sighs out, a pinch instantly placed on his thigh that makes him jolt and squeak anyway. Jungkook whines, correcting himself when your hand hovers his chest this time. “Divorcing is bad!”

“Mhmm. Good night, Kook.”

You vibrate just by the prospect of sleeping peacefully tonight without the walls in the house being shaken up by your husband’s snores, tucking yourself in with an exhale that could last for minutes.

“Mmh-hmm!”

Jungkook could only pathetically whine through the mouth strip, resigning to his fate as he just spoons you from behind and huffs.

“What’s that? You want to wear snoring strips every night?” you chuckle, going to sleep with a smile. “What a nice husband.”

( ♡ )

Every now and then, you and Jungkook have to take a refresher course on each other’s businesses. The both of you know a lot already, constant conversations about which meetings happened where and reminders for events that the other will clear up their schedule for.

There’s already the concern and the general knowledge — it’s just all in the technicalities (even the simplest ones) that the two of you are lacking on.

“Is this a mock neck or a crewneck?” Jungkook holds up a shirt that’s yet to be released, eyebrows raised as if waiting for you to mess up. Come to think of it, you have to know now because his family’s holding company had acquired yet another brand and there’ll be a televised event for it — and some reporters ask the stupidest questions to date. You can’t be the weakest link.

“I wanna say neither,” you clear your throat, biting your bottom lip in confusion. It’s a shirt with a collar and that’s the only thing that matters. You know there’s a name for it and there’s a possibility that the choices Jungkook gave you were all bluffs.

Your answer definitely seems to pique both Jungkook’s interest and amusement, resisting the urge to laugh.

“Elaborate.”

“It’s neither of the two. It’s uhm, in the middle?” you tilt your head, only praying that you could bullshit your explanation to your husband, the very person that created the garment. “It’s an all-new neckline created by Jeon Jungkook because that’s what his label is all about.”

Flattering, but really wrong.

“Cool,” he snickers, nodding to himself before he tosses it for you to catch. “It’s a crewneck though.”

“What? Then why did you make me elaborate?” you complain, scoffing to yourself because you know you should’ve went with that answer. Crewnecks should be easy enough to answer but for some reason (read: you stayed up last night watching new-money elitist reality shows instead of studying), you couldn’t answer.

“To see how good you can run away with your answer, duh.”

“And did I run away with it?”

“You ran away with it for like, four meters,” Jungkook commends you, the distance not all that bad in hindsight, atleast until he opens his mouth again. “There’s a hundred meters in total.”

Trivial things like quiz night on each other’s professions remind you that Jungkook’s nice to be with. Banter flows easily and he’s just so charming that so far, you haven’t deeply regretted a single day out of the two years you’ve been married.

You may not be able to name all the different fabrics, silhouettes, and techniques behind Jungkook’s very own streetwear brand, but you know that he likes being held when he’s asleep; that when he taps your thigh groggily after waking up in the middle of the night, it’s him very kindly asking you to rub circles on his back until he falls asleep.

“Okay, my turn!”

Your glass table almost shakes in excitement when you retrieve your sketches, making your husband all the more nervous because you look genuinely excited and he doesn’t want to disappoint you. He doesn’t have the room for error — your family’s jewelry brand turns 100 years old since the opening of its first shop and the event will be widely attended by everyone from all industries. Who’s to say that your eccentric grandfather won’t suddenly host a quizbee all about their craft?

You flash the paper quickly and your husband sighs in relief, grinning in confidence.

“Emerald cut, easy!” 

The confidence is quickly washed out from Jungkook because you snort, putting the paper down.

“It’s an octagon cut.”

“No it’s not,” he immediately retorts in disbelief, squinting at the sketch you’ve set down already.

“I sketched these,” you narrow your eyes. You forgot just how quick Jungkook can keep himself in denial. “Emerald cuts have more depth to them.

He succumbs just as quickly as he turned stubborn though, rolling his eyes with the internal reminder to touch up on his jewelry knowledge because your event comes before his.

“Fine, sue me for thinking your drawings have depth and dynamic to them.”

“You’re buttering me up.”

“Is it working?” Jungkook blinks owlishly, proud of himself when he sees the corner of your lips twitching. He holds his arm out to sling across your waist out of instinct, pleased in pink when you lean into him.

“Barely.”

Jungkook frowns, nosing into your hair with a huff. “Look who’s talking. You made up an all-new neckline by yourself.”

“Shh,” you hum. “Let me get away with it.”

These moments of domesticity are what remind you that Jungkook’s never been less than ideal for you. That despite being in the same social circle as kids and only starting off as friends, you weren’t hesitant when both your grandparents suggested the idea of getting the two of you married.

In trivial and domestic moments like these, you think that you would’ve wanted to marry Jungkook even if you weren’t arranged.

“I let you get away with a lot of things,” he playfully huffs, resting his chin on your shoulder intentionally heavy to get you to cave deeper into his embrace.

“Because I barely wrong you!” you reason, rolling your eyes because you know for a fact that although you’re not a perfect wife, you’re beyond ideal.

“I know,” Jungkook rolls his eyes this time, the truth undeniable. You’re right; you’re so perfect for him that sometimes, he thinks he doesn’t deserve you.  “How about me? Will you let me get away with a lot of things?”

“I already have,” you sing-song, narrowing your eyes playfully as if in deep warning. “But I won’t always do.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook first realized that you loved him when he missed a single step on the staircase and tumbled a whole flight.

It was 3 AM then, the reason behind his sudden trip downstairs being the fever you developed overnight when you had just gotten home from a ski trip. He had put a wet towel in the freezer in the afternoon and he was supposed to put it on you before you went to sleep. Jungkook must’ve beat himself up for forgetting because he wakes up with a cold sweat, determined to put that frozen towel on you like his life depended on it.

Jungkook thought he was doing well by the way he could navigate clearly even with the sleep in his system, eyes still half-lidded and brain still half-working that he decides to rip out the largest yawn to man mid-step on the staircase — before he knows it, he’s woken up immediately to the bottom of it.

“Jungkook!” you yelled to him then in a panic, eyes wide and frantic to see him at the bottom of the stairs with a sheepish smile. Jungkook knew then that seeing you with a head-splitting migraine visible on your pale lips and fatigued eyes, scooping him up on your arms with nothing but scolding and fussing on rotation — he knew that you loved him more than you let on.

You know Jungkook loves you. So when the bed dips and your arms grow cold despite swearing up and down that the both of you have a free day today, you doubt for a second.

“What are you doing up so early?” you mutter, stifling a yawn to see Jungkook up without a complaint.

“Breakfast with my parents. My crazy aunt suddenly came over and they need backup,” Jungkook answers with a pained laugh, cussing himself for being such a filial son. “Don’t worry, I know you hate her plus you were up all night yesterday so I just told them you can’t come because you’re under the weather.”

You’re put at ease to hear him, sighing a breath of relief — good, Jungkook still loves you and doesn’t plan to leave you. It’s just an inkling you’ve had the last few weeks, the daunting realization that in a couple months’ time, it’ll be three years of marriage with him.

It’s the impulsive, less rational part of your brain that thinks Jungkook’s growing bored of you, confused of how he’s been perfectly content being your husband for almost three whole years. 

You go with Jungkook all the way through downstairs, your playful teasing towards him about never yawning again on the steps giving him more amusement (and embarrassment) than necessary.

“Kook?” you question with a furrow in your brow, pointing at the dish that’s occupied still. “You forgot the car keys.”

“Oh. I’m not taking the car,” he smiles, shrugging to emphasize the jacket that he intentionally wore. You missed the detail somehow, the surprise in your voice more evident.

“You’re taking your motorbike?”

“Mhmm!” Jungkook hums pleasantly, the background music in his brain going from calm elevator music to rising bass rift. He’s just about to bid you goodbye with a kiss after he wears his gloves but he’s stopped even before he could come near. You’ve already read his mind.

Your husband knows it when you put your arms across your chest, nodding towards the cabinet with a tone that leaves no room for counterarguments.

“Go wear your full gear.”

“But the breakfast place isn’t even that far,” Jungkook whines, head tilting back. His gear was literally hot, protecting him from sunlight yet physically making him boil inside. 

“I want you in one piece.”

“You want me?” Jungkook cheekily grins, eyebrows wagging incessantly with his arms outstretched. That’s it! If he could just act cuter and be a little more-

“Go wear your gear.”

“I look goofy,” he mutters, eyes downcast. The longer he goes without blinking, the faster he knows that he’s going to stick to your words.

“You look safe,” you smile in success when you put his helmet on, securing it extra tightly that draws a whine from him.

Jungkook frowns but he knows that you’re right as always, a relieved sigh coursing throughout his whole body because who knew where he’d end up without you.

“Ride safe, Jungkook. I mean it. Don’t pull any tricks,” you glare pointedly at him, recounting all of the near misses he had from wanting to be adventurous, be it a trip downstairs to the refrigerator or in the middle of a main thoroughfare.

“I promise not to pull a wheelie on the highway, yes,” Jungkook mockingly salutes you, drawing out a faux disappointed sigh from you.

“You’re forgetting something.”

Was he really? Jungkook furrows his brows in confusion, smacking his lips when he seems to get the gist of it. He walks towards you, puckering his lips to the max because he doesn’t want to headbutt you with a solid helmet for just a smooch, landing a gentle kiss on your cheek. 

You appreciate it, but Jungkook’s not quite right.

“No, not that.”

“What?” he seems taken aback, suddenly realizing. “Oh!” he giggles, raising up his right hand in a pledge. “I promise to text you when I get there.”

“Good.”

You have to put more strength to drag Jungkook by the helmet, angling your head to the side to kiss so he doesn’t knock you in the forehead with the extremely safe (and extremely bulky) helmet you got him.

Jungkook smiles in contentment, clearing his throat as he revs his engine. It’s all good then. He had become worried in silence because your three years of marriage were approaching and got scared because what if you grew bored of him already?

Jungkook worries that he’ll mess things up with you one day, but with the way he can see you waving at him frantically on his side mirror when he just left, it’s okay. 

He knows you still love him.

( ♡ )

Hoseok’s your most talented and trusted metalsmith.

His work ethic’s unparalleled, your vision only coming into fruition through his support and skill. He’s indispensable to you, your place in the direction of your family’s business cemented by Hoseok’s aid.

Hoseok as both an artist and your employee is different from Hoseok as your friend. Both are cunning but the latter is more ruthless, the lines being blurred every now and then. He loves his job, don’t get him twisted at all — in fact, he trusts you as a boss and the company beyond comprehension that he doesn’t bear any tact for anyone who threatens either.

Not even for Jungkook.

“A collab, huh?” Hoseok squints, looking through the portfolio you’ve handed him. There’s already projected numbers that your analysts have predicted for you but he pays the papers no mind. He clicks his tongue, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. “A streetwear brand wants a limited-edition collection with us?”

Jungkook clears his throat, timidly raising his hand. He’s always known that Hoseok’s standoffish to literally everyone except you, but what he can’t take is being talked about like he isn’t in the same room.

“Uhm, I’m Y/N’s husband.”

“Well you’re the owner of that streetwear brand, aren’t you?” Hoseok raises a brow at him, tilting his head. He looks drastically bored, his tongue poking his cheek.

Jungkook blinks, not exactly knowing where this was going but he doesn’t like it one bit. “Yes, but I’m also her husband.”

“Okay?” Hoseok tilts his head, eyes already exhausted from the conversation. You know that look on him, the one that tells you he’s bored to death and is itching to shut up the nearest person to him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Jungkook rarely gets flustered by anyone else besides you and this time, it’s the bad kind. The embarrassment he gets from just conversing with Hoseok makes him feel like he’s an inconvenience, unease settling into his stomach. Jungkook wishes he couldn’t be so perceptive to know that despite Hoseok’s eyes normally being unreadable, his gaze now on his sketches can be read as underwhelmed.

“Well I-I mean, I’m hearing a lot of us and it sounds like you and Y/N, not me and Y/N,” he licks his lips, recognizing the insecurity that sticks to his tone like honey. Not only does he feel insulted as an artist, he also feels insufficient as a husband.

“That is what I’m saying though,” Hoseok trails off, hand vaguely gesturing for Jungkook to fill in the rest of the blanks. When he doesn’t, Hoseok does it for him. “It’s me and Y/N seeing this brand through. Not you and her.”

Jungkook blinks once, twice.

Hoseok isn’t wrong. No matter how much pain it brings Jungkook to admit it, Hoseok isn’t wrong. Your marriage may be for you and him alone, but your company– your artistry is only yours as much as it’s Hoseok’s. He has no place here and he feels it, his initial confidence that the collaboration he proposed was going to pass already dwindling by the millisecond.

“Hoseok’s right,” you cough, breaking their conversation. The tension was already too thick and you’ve barely made it halfway to looking at the entirety of the portfolio. “Reel it in, Jungkook.”

He’s jealous. He’s jealous and he forgot just how pathetic and insufficient one could feel when the green monster of heartburn decides to make an appearance. Jungkook just about doubts everything, from thinking of how your admiration for Hoseok is probably much higher than the admiration you have for him, to thinking if you even benefit from being arranged to him.

Hoseok looks over the designs, noting all the details silently.

“Huh. I see,” he hums, clearing his throat to try and keep all the crass words he has in mind to himself because you’re looking at him intently. “Skulls. Haven’t seen this one before.”

“You sketched this?” Hoseok nods every now and then, holding up the paper that had deep indents of the pencil on the paper to the point that it defeats the concept of a sketch. Your husband nods, and he wishes he hadn’t because Hoseok comments not a second later. “Figures.”

He hums, silently approving here and there of some concepts he could totally get behind. It’s not all rubbish content, but he can’t say that salvageable automatically equates to commendable.

“So? What do you think, Hobi?” you ask when the silence has gone long enough, having noticed that Jungkook already grew too quiet in your corner.

Hoseok calculates in his brain, looking from the portfolio and back to you. He tries not to clench his jaw for the sake of you silently pleading him to mince his words and actions, clasping his hands together.

“Yeah, it’s doable,” he nods, making Jungkook smile despite his ego being a little wounded. He’s bounced back miraculously, profusely thanking Hoseok with an unexplained eagerness to him. Before Jungkook could launch himself to further possibilities though, Hoseok calls for you.

“Y/N? A word, please?”

Jungkook looks back from the door, hesitant doe eyes flitting between the two of you. You don’t know exactly what’s going through his mind but you know better than to project, bidding him goodbye for the timebeing. “It’ll be quick.”

The most commendable trait you can attribute to Hoseok besides being your friend is his passion for your craft. He’s vision-oriented in the sense that he cuts straight to the chase before he could even lose the trail that the sudden burst of fervor leaves him.

“Meridian’s your baby. It’s your grandmother’s grandmother’s baby. It’s coveted. It has meaning,” Hoseok rambles, the sigh leaving him more concerned than it was relieved at being let out. He can’t mince his words now — he can’t put it in any other way besides the truth. “Collaborating with Jungkook cheapens it.”

“Hoseok.”

Your tone edges on a bite, clenching your jaw as you try to take everything in. Hoseok’s been your voice of reason for so long but you don’t know how to accept that voice now, the tinge of guilt slowly staining you because the back of your mind tells you that he isn’t wrong.

Jungkook’s streetwear brand is huge; whether or not you chalk it up to his name being linked to his family’s holding company that’s responsible for other designer brands, your husband’s brand specifically remains larger than life. It’s not a flawless brand, that much you’re sure of, but it’s still of great value.

Just perhaps not of the same degree that Hoseok holds your company to.

“It’s not all bad, but most of his work is dispassionate. It’s typical. Meridian would look cheap if you commit to this fever dream collaboration.”

There’s a rash on your neck, one that’s warm and speaks to your ear of how shitty it must feel to even agree partially to what Hoseok’s saying. Your duties as an artist in the business rarely clash with your courtesies as Jungkook’s wife — today just happens to be one of those days.

“It’s Jungkook’s idea, okay?” you relent, voice low as if in defeat of admission. You don’t mean to belittle him, you just happen to know and listen to reason. “It’s not the best, I know, but it’s honest work. Let’s give him a chance.”

“You’re giving him a chance because he’s your husband, not because you see any potential.”

Hoseok says it without uttering nor a single sense of doubt. He sounds so definite that you don’t even know if he’s still insulting Jungkook or if he’s insulting you at this point, swallowing your words.

There’s truth to your craft but you know there’s an even bigger truth to the unspoken protectiveness you have over Jungkook, the answer sounding seemingly shallow but that’s what it really is — love makes you shallow as much as it makes you deep.

“You’ll know when you’re married.”

“Arranged would be the term for you and Jungkook. Not married,” Hoseok quips. “You’re only holding back your critique. We both know it’s a dead end when it comes to creative direction.”

The both of you leave it at that, the decision being unanimous to collaborate with Jungkook despite your metalsmith’s hesitance. What you say goes, that’s just how hierarchy works. 

Unbeknownst to you and Hoseok though, Jungkook’s been listening the whole time — that’s just how love operates sometimes; hidden and relinquished.

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s hurt.

How crude of Hoseok to think of him that way. How worse of you to agree even.

Jungkook’s irrational when he’s hurt, refusing to see reason. He knows at the back of his head that he’s hit a rut and pitching in a collaboration with your brand is his last-ditch attempt in sparking something. Cheap was a word for tackiness and to have your friend use it on him brings him to a new low.

It’s just jewelry. What you make is just jewelry. Just pieces of metal bended and soldered together with shiny gems that don’t possess any real meaning to them besides superficial.

It’s not that deep.

Not that deep to the point that when Hyejoo, his childhood friend turned actress turned fleeting appearance in his life every now and then (whom you hate for some reason), asks him for a favor — Jungkook barely hesitates.

Hyejoo stands before him in a shirt from his brand’s limited collection, one out of the only hundred ever made. If Jungkook recalls correctly, he didn’t even send any items from the limited collection to any of his friends; he left everyone besides you to go fend for themselves.

Perhaps his childhood friend’s truly a fan of his craft, knowing her for her utmost support towards all his releases. To be honest, the two of them aren’t even that close anymore to the point that they’re each other’s first friend to think of in dire circumstances, except now — now when she needs him for a favor.

“But I need a pink ring for the event, Jungkook!” Hyejoo whines, throwing her head back for dramatic effect. Truth be told, she knew no brand that had pink jewelry that was elegant enough for her taste except yours. She’s turned down sponsorships all for a ring you probably keep in your sock drawer. “Yes I can buy from other brands but you’re there, Kook. You’re available and I can borrow from you because your wife has a shit ton.”

Jungkook knows what Hyejoo’s talking about. It’s the one pink ring that you wore on your engagement party with him and it’s become the talk of everyone from how ethereal you looked, the one tiny piece of jewelry tying it all together.

He knows it’s pink and he knows it’s just hidden away in its jewelry box, one that you keep right next to his collection of watches. There was no fancy vault for it either, just tucked next to his timepieces as if they were of the same value.

“Come on, she won’t even notice,” Hyejoo urges him, making him inwardly cringe. She turned up on his front door unannounced asking for a favor and he feels indebted her for the last time she granted him one, the apartment complex that Hyejoo owned becoming the perfect backdrop to his collection that’s still renowned to this day.

Jungkook’s loyal, he knows he is. His loyalties lie with you and he still honors his debt — whether or not you’re caught in the middle. It’s true that you won’t even notice, you don’t even peek at it anyway! For someone who’s a part of a family of jewelers, you rarely accessorize yourself gaudily.

“Fine. I’ll let you borrow,” Jungkook mutters, finally relenting to Hyejoo’s requests. He opens the door wider, on the way to your shared bedroom but looks back hastily at Hyejoo to point a stern finger. “But give it back, okay?”

It takes a great amount of strength for Jungkook to even hand the ring to Hyejoo, not even including the box with her because a) you would know that it was missing, and b) he wants her to wear it at all times until she gives it back the next day. Jungkook takes it personally to flick her wrist to serve as a reminder that he had given it to her already, even going so far to take a picture of the two of them and make her sign on his notes app.

He’s not necessarily betraying you — or so he thinks. It was just jewelry that you wouldn’t miss, same as the shirts that he gives away to his friends. Their retail prices may be lightyears away but you would understand; you always do.

Jungkook gaslights himself into thinking that he did no wrong but the guilt is what slowly gnaws on him, the tips of his fingers going numb every time he looks at you. 

Come to think of it, his decision to lend your ring to Hyejoo was out of sheer pettiness even without the assurance that you’ll take notice of it. His hurt over Hoseok’s comment disappeared the moment he handed her your ring, but to his surprise, it’s anxiousness that replaces his irritation.

He kisses you good night still as if today didn’t happen; how his irrationality had gotten the best of him when he got hurt by Hoseok’s remarks over his passion and creativity, and just a few hours later, it’s his impulsiveness and misplaced urge for vindication that lent your unsuspecting ring to his childhood friend.

“Jungkook!” you yell out in panic, urging him awake instantly that his heart beats incessantly despite being pulled out of sleep. You look frantic, the rawness in your eyes not from your lack of sleep, but instead from tears. “Call 911. The Interpol! The CIA! The fucking Blue House!”

“What?! What happened?!”

He’s panicked just as you are, hands shakily clutching his phone. He looks you up and down and inspects you for injuries to which there are none, nothing but overwhelm making your body shake.

Jungkook can’t bear to see you so glum and helpless, your bottom lip trembling as you look at him feeling nothing but pathetic.

“My ring,” you whisper brokenly, the phantom feeling of wearing it making you sob even more. “My ring is gone.”

Jungkook’s mouth dries, the panic in his own body turning against himself, his remorse growing into something larger than life. He could physically see the confusion on your face on the way he paled, his phone dropping out of his hold.

Your husband’s hands reach for you but you don’t take them, recoiling even before he could open his mouth. Jungkook was readable — too readable to the point that you wish he had lied to your face instead.

“I-I can explain.”

Jungkook weakens by the knees when the words drape from the tip of his tongue, your chest sucking in an inhale so sharp that he gets weakened by the force of it. “I lent it to Hyejoo.”

You’re quiet, the type of rage in you simmering ever so slowly that it builds to an immense heat. You don’t know if you can ever muster to look at Jungkook in the eye, your middle finger that knows the grooves of your ring twitching in muscle memory.

“You what?” you croak, tilting your head. You know what you’ve heard but you just wish you’re mistaken this time, cursing your own accuracy. “Who told you that you could do that?” 

Jungkook’s cornered in his mind and he spews the first thing in his mind, no matter how stupid it sounded.

“Yours is mine and mine is-…”

“That doesn’t apply here! You’re so fucking-…” you just about burst in the seams, clenching your jaw so hard to the point that you give yourself a headache. You’re resolute this way, the pitiful look on your husband’s face not getting a single drop of remorse from you. “Get it back.”

You wouldn’t have lent it to anyone regardless if Jungkook asked you, but you would have considered at the very least. For him to take something so special to you and loan it to someone you’re not even fond of ticks a wire in your brain, your anger coming before the sadness fully hits.

“Y/N!” he hisses, angry at both the situation and himself but he now thinks of the courtesy that he didn’t possess when Hyejoo borrowed your ring. “I can’t turn back on my word.”

“What? Your word that favors Hyejoo and shits on mine?” you scoff in disbelief, laughing at the mockery Jungkook makes of you. It’s insulting and saddening and you can’t even begin to think of the extensive cleaning and safekeeping you’ll have to do once you get your ring back. “I said, get it back. You’re my husband and you’re just her friend, you have all the means to take my ring back.”

Jungkook turns somber, a stark contrast to your anger. He pleads with you, finally closing the gap between you to which you roll your eyes.

“The event is tonight. She’ll return it tomorrow. Please, it’ll be embarrassing.”

“For you or for her?” you ask but the rage in your voice is already simmering, the daunting thoughts of how Jungkook thinks of his friend’s sake and himself first than his wife making you clench your fists around nothing.

“Y/N, please.”

His incessant begging does little to influence your decision because you’ve already changed your mind, the rage that dipped in you and the fact that your heart’s already aching despite having just woken up converting you instead.

“Tomorrow morning. I want it back in the case before I wake up.”

The two of you sleep apart for the night and Jungkook can’t even bring himself to contest it knowing that he doesn’t deserve to hold you. He simmers in self-loathing, unable to sleep the night when his phone dings from the notifications it has of your name.

Hyejoo’s look on the carpet trends the whole night, the main focus of everyone being the pink ring that adorns her ring finger. There’s threads of speculations how you and her are either best friends or how she must’ve bought it from you. If only he could, Jungkook would reply to each comment saying that Hyejoo doesn’t hold a candle to your elegance and how the ring has always been yours — that it’s his fault that his friend’s even wearing the same piece.

He’s restless and he can’t even begin to think how much more tired you feel. Of your name being brought up and of him royally fucking up. 

When Jungkook thinks it couldn’t be worse, karma one-ups him from the very mistake he committed when he entertained Hyejoo’s favor in his mind.

“You’re stupid,” you spit to Hyejoo who stands on your porch, head downturned in shame. She had half the decency to face you personally but lacks the rest to honor her end of the bargain; she lacks the intellect to respect you.

She lost the ring. She lost the pink ring you’ve treasured and cared for since you were a teenager, losing it after a careless and drunk decision of skinny dipping. You feel like you’ve been made a fool not only by your husband, but also by his friend that you don’t care for at all.

The tears fall out of your eyes in anger, each one being in a rush to exit because you’re full of resentment at this point.

“You’re a brainless, stupid, careless fucking idiot. I don’t want to see you in my household again,” you point at her, making her step back.

“This is Jungkook’s-…” she squeaks, just about to correct you when you point at her even more menacingly. You’re not even joking around as it seems like, eyes angry to the point that they lack of love, even for Jungkook who tries to hold you back.

“I’ll get a restraining order on you.”

Hyejoo scurries out all with the promise to reimburse you (as if she has the money to do so) that falls on deaf ears, your hand slamming the door too hard that your husband swears the walls shook with your force.

You look unrecognizable with the sheer disappointment you have for him, your anger dripping off of you thickly that he’s rendered speechless.

“You,” you seethe. “I fucking hate you.”

You never told him that before.

You’ve gotten mad at him on several occasions but never to this degree where you tell him that you loathe him. This is the furthest that you’ve took it, the honesty behind your words making his bottom lip tremble.

Jungkook’s eyes have been perpetually moist since last night but it’s only now that his eyes sting with white hot sadness. You’re only reacting out of your state of overwhelm; you must be, right?

“I hate you so, so much, Jungkook.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“No, I really mean that,” you scoff to his face, shaking your head in absoluteness. “What would you do if I sold your car, huh?”

Jungkook wants to apologize to you so bad but he doesn’t have the right words to give you the proper one that you deserve. He gives you an answer off the top of his head, the disappointment for himself growing if he does otherwise.

“It’s just a car.”

“Well this is just not a fucking ring to me! It’s not simple like that!” you burst, your movements jerky.

“I’ll buy you a new ring,” he whispers, wanting to tug at his hair for being so stupid. He should’ve considered the possibility that Hyejoo has a knack for being careless; he failed to account that he went behind your back to lend your ring to someone else in the first place.

“I can buy my own rings!” you exclaim. “What you don’t get is that this means the world to me! If your uncle gave you a car, and I gave it to someone else and now it’s on the bottom of the ocean, what would you feel?”

“It’s just a car from my uncle. I can replace it. I can buy a better one.”

Jungkook knows he’s just making excuses. He’s just being defensive now that he’s cornered and has no excuse for behaving so poorly. He can’t escape the anger and the disappoint he’s flooded with, not when you cry out of sheer distress.

“Not if my aunt isn’t here! Not if this ring is one of the only things I have of her!”

Sure, your aunt was dodgy. She’s the black sheep of your family and had done more than a lot of questionable things, but she cared for you. She had given you her own ring when you were twelve and whilst it was too big for you to wear, she gave you a chain for you to wear it around your neck.

The ring is something you can easily replicate but the thought behind it is what you can’t take back. It’s not the only piece of her that you have but it’s one of the earliest things you obtained; one of the most notable pieces out of the bunch.

“You don’t think. You don’t care. You don’t love.” 

For Jungkook to carelessly seize it from you and loan it to someone else grips your heart like a vice. You’re gonna dwell on it for more than a couple of days and realize that you have more sentimental and elegant things you have of your aunt eventually — but what matters to you is how you feel now. How Jungkook had disappointed you so bad, you feel like throwing up.

“I want to divorce you,” you seethe, meaning your words at the heat of the moment. Jungkook stands frozen, hearing his own heartbeat thrum in his ears. “I can find a new husband. What I can’t find — what neither you nor Hyejoo can’t find is my ring.”

( ♡ )

You do it while he’s sleeping.

You take advantage of Jungkook’s fatigue and disorientation from crying his eyes out, passed out in the couch while he hugs himself with his arms to try and replicate your embrace. It’s already morning and it only looks like he slept just minutes ago, positively dozed off.

You take much care in slipping of the platinum wedding ring from his finger, joining your discarded one in your palm. There’s only carelessness when you scoop them into a tiny drawstring bag, taking it to Hoseok and doing a regular work day as if your head hadn’t pounded with hurt just last night.

It’s only convenient for the both of you; Jungkook’s decision slingshots back to him, and your client would be happy. Hoseok texted you last night asking if he should grant the request of a high-profile client with a titanium pendant, and it just so happens that you have two chunks of it that you no longer need. It could be melted and repurposed — after all, it’s just jewelry according to Jungkook.

The guilt of your impulsiveness doesn’t hit you instantly, it only comes with confusion when you see your husband in shambles.

When you come home, the whole house is upturned. Jungkook’s frantic, waking up to a hand that bears no wedding ring; no proof of you. His eyes glaze with relief briefly when he sees you, urging you to take in the situation fully.

“The police. The CIA! Interpol! MI6 — or is it MI7? Fuck, Mr. Bean’s movie was too good! Get the Blue House on the line!” he blubbers, looking back and forth the cushions of the couch and his hand. “My wedding ring!”

It’s perhaps a ballsy move made on your part, but you can’t guilt yourself into bearing the blame. You made your wedding rings and it only makes sense for you to get rid of them. The bands are symbolic, made and upheld with love for the last two years but in your haste of upset, you’ve given them away.

You perhaps regret it slightly, the fog in your brain lifting but only faintly. You’re still mad and disappointed at Jungkook, and perhaps you don’t mean the bit of divorcing him, but you do mean wholeheartedly the sentimentality you have behind all your jewelry.

The platinum in your ring finger just felt too heavy last night that you grew weary of it, not thinking twice when you removed yours and Jungkook’s. Even if the two of you make up and you don’t end up divorcing Jungkook, you wouldn’t want to wear the same ring that brought you the same pain during its stint.

“I sold them,” you answer, turning your back on him before you could see the anguish in his face. “We have no need for them.”

( ♡ )

Jungkook’s making you a rice bowl as an apology.

Buttered fried rice, egg, bacon, and all with a generous amount of cheese. It’s his hangover food when he needs something greasy and filling but the only difference from his past hangovers and your anger at him is the latter barely feels like it could be rectified.

He says his apologies again through the door and he’ll happily repeat it to your face if you stand longer in front of him for more than a minute, his panic even larger than the oil splashes he’s gotten from making your bacon eagerly.

“I’m so sorry, baby. It was stupid of me to lend your ring to Hyejoo behind your back and I swear I won’t do it again. I know that ring meant a lot to you and I-I was so pathetic by invalidating that,” he mutters through the door, looking at the frying pan every now and then to make sure he wasn’t burning anything. “I have every intention of finding your ring and making it up to you, cross my heart!”

It feels insulting, even. For him to think that he could change the ache of your heart with a simple hot meal. Jungkook realizes that he really is dense when you don’t answer the door for the twenty minutes that he knocks. When you do open up, he feels even more dumb.

Just twenty minutes ago, he wired you twice the amount of the worth you estimated your aunt’s ring to be. Combined with the pitiful amount Hyejoo wires you, it’s then do you realize that you’re not fazed by money. The initiative is there, sure, but the ache in your heart hasn’t subsided completely.

You do miss Jungkook. It does tug at your heartstrings to see and hear him beat himself up over and over again the more you realize that you’re attached to your aunt’s memories rather than the ring itself, but just two nights away from each other won’t absolve everything he’s done and failed to do.

When you open the door, you’re greeted by the sight of your husband who tries far too hard for his own good. Melancholy isn’t a good look on him because he looks the most unkempt he’s ever appeared in two days than the two years you’ve been living with him under the same roof.

Jungkook waits for you to register his attempt, holding up a hot bowl with his bare hands that you resist the urge to take it from him for a second. His ring finger’s occupied by a cheap mood ring, rapidly turning red at the moment from the heat of the bowl.

You look down fully expecting to be swayed even just a little bit, but when you do, you feel the kick to just slam the door right back.

“I hate runny eggs,” you scowl. “Two years married and you don’t even know how I like my eggs cooked.”

Jungkook wants the ground to swallow him whole. 

He wishes that if it was true that chickens are the last true descendants of dinosaurs, there’d be a chicken the same size as them that pecks him into oblivion.

He hurriedly turns on the stove and scoops up the egg back into it, careful not to have any of the runny folk get on your meal. He itches in frustration, his ring finger that’s temporarily adorned with a cheap and clunky mood ring being accurate by turning blue in sadness.

Jungkook’s so out of it, so disappointed in himself that he doesn’t notice he cooks the egg until it’s burnt, the char of it reflecting how poorly he thinks of himself now.

It’s like when you were disappointed in him that time when his outlandish aunt made a rude comment about you and you were speechless the whole night that he stayed silent. He remedied it by later groveling at your feet and marching to his aunt and laying out all of his intentions for her to grow up and apologize to you, the same aunt that’s now blacklisted from all the gatherings.

It’s like when you were upset at him when he left abruptly in the morning and didn’t tell you where he was going because he didn’t know if you would care, partying it up in a different country for his friend’s bachelor’s party and coming home a day later with you hot on his heels. Jungkook made it up to you by once again apologizing profusely and updating you on his whereabouts since then (sometimes he gives too much information), always making it a point to bring two powerbanks with him so he can text you when he’s left and arrived.

This time though, he doesn’t know how exactly to make it up to you. He’s been in contact with professional divers to try and look for the ring for you, but he can’t be of much help until he comes along to know for sure. He’s thinking of all these different ways and approaches but he’s unsure if any of them are sufficient enough to rectify his mistake.

Jungkook feels pathetic because he swears he loves you and knows everything about you, but here he is — crying about how he doesn’t even know how you like your eggs cooked.

You’re upset at him, and he can’t do anything right for you.

( ♡ )

Jungkook tries again at dinner.

It’s the day of Meridian’s 100th anniversary and the two of you play it up for the cameras, your husband’s attention on you so keen and affectionate that you almost forget you were supposed to be mad at him.

He takes advantage of the cameras during the carpet session, tugging you close with his hand on your waist as he seizes the chance to hug you tightly at the end when you enter the hall with no cameras in place. He breathes you in as he always does, hesitant to let you go and exhale because you’re the very scent and existence of love.

Jungkook studied, of course he did. He’s touched up on his jewelry knowledge because he’s more than desperate now to seek your validation, nervously smiling all around as he waits for people to stop approaching you in your table.

His attention’s fixed on your necklace, the stone on it similar to the very ring he lent and lost. He’s brought it up about five times already, animatedly reciting trivia about it as if you’re not the literal face of the jewelry industry. He clears his throat, leaning in for you to whisper intimately, but just loud enough for the other people to hear a tad. 

“Ah, that pink sapphire looks so good on you, babe.”

“Shut up,” you mutter sharply, making Jungkook’s heart skip a beat. You melted against him when he was hugging you, that much he was sure of. He doesn’t know why you’ve become harsh again all of a sudden, forgetting that his lapse this time was opening his mouth. “Stop saying that.”

“Saying what?” his brows furrow, swallowing the lump on his throat. “Pink?” he guesses, eyes wavering as he tests the waters. “Pink sapphire?”

It takes a lot in you not to make an outburst. Truth be told, you’ve started easing up on Jungkook but his attempts at trying hard is just too much and in the wrong direction, hearing pink sapphire over and over again reminding you of the ring you lost.

“Yes, that! Stop talking.”

“But I did my homework! Of course I’m not gonna stop talking,” he defends himself, the nervousness rising to his throat like bile. God, what if he did the wrong homework? What if he’s missed the assignment all along?

“Clearly you didn’t try hard enough because you’re wrong, Jungkook. This isn’t a pink sapphire — this is a pink diamond.”

Jungkook’s brain stops functioning for a solid five seconds, his mouth drying. The only proof that he was still breathing is his big eyes threatening to water.

“And so is my ring that you gave to your friend without asking me,” you add.

“What?!” he sputters in disbelief, recounting to all the other times he named the gem in multiple occasions even before today. “B-but I said it so many times before! You didn’t even correct me!”

“I didn’t correct you because you looked so proud of yourself!” you exclaim, surrendering with a sigh. Pink sapphire was the first gem that Jungkook had managed to name in your trivia night on the first month of your marriage, his avidness on getting it “right” so contagious that you didn’t have the heart to correct him.

“Pink sapphire is dirt cheap compared to pink diamonds, Jungkook! You just keep saying sapphire over and over again because it’s your birthstone,” you mumble, looking around to see if there were any people growing nosy at your conversation. “I let you say it over and over again to the point that I wore them instead of diamonds because you just can’t shut up about them,” you grit. 

This is the only time you reference your sentiment with the jewelry itself in words, your last profession of your disappointment in him being the removal of your wedding bands.

 “That’s the thing with you — you can’t tell. This isn’t just about emerald o-or octagon cuts, Jungkook. This is our marriage and you gave a girl that I don’t like my ring that meant so much to me! Now you can’t get it back.”

Jungkook’s speechless, holding back tears. You fear you’ll cry yourself when you look at his round, pleading eyes so you don’t, squeezing in the last word even if he always lets you have it.

“And now I’m correcting you because you’re embarrassing me. Now please, lay off with the gem terms.”

( ♡ )

Things have been tame between you and Jungkook.

You’ve aired out your grievances and Jungkook’s still trying hard as always, perplexing you because he hasn’t gone restless. It’s progressively warmer between the two of you but it’s nowhere near to what the two of you used to be, the air between the two of you going static that you’ve utilized it for your own.

It’s just a quick getaway for the day, hopping aboard a yacht with the intention of giving yourself a break. You’ve reflected enough but not alone with yourself, the period of space with Jungkook being much-needed.

Until you’re mistaken of course.

You think your mind’s playing tricks on you when the boat rocks more than it would with waves, but the all too familiar figure coming into your vision turns out to be real. It’s Jungkook in the flesh, wearing his scuba suit and gear.

It’s a pure coincidence that is. All Jungkook knew was that you were going on a yacht today and you didn’t specify where; meanwhile, all you knew was that he was going to be scuba diving, but he didn’t specify where either.

It’s purely kismet but your bodyguard Taehyung doesn’t seem to think so, legitimately thinking it was a pirate instead of your husband so he repeatedly smacks him with an oar until you stop him.

“Jungkook!” you call out, getting your bodyguard to stop. Atleast he has the decency to look sheepish, but he was genuinely concerned! He thought you were being hijacked by someone dressed in the most unassuming scuba suit, holding a plastic bag in his hands.

Your husband barely winces from the pain because he’s high from all the adrenaline, chest rising rapidly in succession. “Y/N, baby, I — hold on, I’m gonna, wait-…”

He looks tired still but there’s a light to him, either his radiance has come back or it was just the sun behind him but either way, it was nice to look at Jungkook who isn’t groveling at your feet for once.

He finally catches his breath, standing up to his full height as he tries not to ramble his words.

“I bought all the fish.”

“You did what?” your eyes widen, pathetically looking at the vast ocean around you. Perhaps you’re so startled (and amused) by Jungkook’s sudden and silly appearance that you forgot to apply common sense, just as breathless as he is.

“Okay maybe not all, but I did buy a lot of fish,” he concedes, nodding incessantly. He’s too excited that he can’t contain himself, even more-so when you finally look at him without disdain staining your features.

“For what?” you ask, genuinely curious.

Jungkook smiles, never having been more proud retelling you his previous failure.

“Your favorite seafood restaurant? I bought them their stock, provided that they’ll open up every last fish in there to see if they had your ring,” he shrugs as if it’s a common thought process to abide by, later shaking his head. “They don’t.”

If there’s just one trait that Jungkook had to be known with by everyone, it would be his persistence.

Jeon Jungkook is endearingly, cloyingly, and annoyingly persistent with the things he desires and the things he’s passionate about. You’re his wife — you’re his every last desire and passion. He had wronged you fresh from a week and some days ago but that timeframe has already given him ample time to fully redeem himself.

He can’t undo what he did. He can’t reverse the time he lent his wife’s ring to his friend who loses it not a full day later. Jungkook can’t take back any of the things he did but what he can do is be dedicatedly persistent in correcting himself.

He’s tanner, his muscles are bulged and straining, and his skin’s itchy with all the salt but he takes all of these things in stride — he’s become a better person through persistence.

“I also tried snorkeling for a week and I still couldn’t find it,” he trails, biting his bottom lip while he clasps his hands behind his back. “But I tried again today.”

It’s either relief or endearment that fills your face full, but nonetheless, the light that Jungkook sees from you lulls him to the comfort and warmth he’s been yearning from you for the past week. His eyes are strained and his body feels itself moving in waves as if he was still underwater, but he just closes his eyes to savor the moment.

You bound to him to put him in an embrace, your husband instantly melting in your hold. It’s either all the salt in his eyes or it’s just the realization that you’ve finally forgiven him and it’s all the love he feels for you, but either way, you hold Jungkook tighter.

“I found your ring.”

( ♡ )

You don’t know when Jungkook first loved you.

You can’t pinpoint an exact moment when Jungkook started acting differently towards you because he’s always been the same way from day one, the same qualities that make him both annoying and endearing having been there from the start.

You could always ask but you can’t bring yourself to. It shouldn’t bother you at the end of the day because the important thing is that Jungkook loves you. He loves without reservations, the pinnacle of his love language being his patheticness in trying hard.

Jeon Jungkook may try hard for everyone, but he tries the most for you.

He wakes up early and you only realize his absence when you turn to pat the warm space he’s supposedly left behind, making you rub the sleep out of your eyes. 

You wonder for a second that if Jungkook left the bed early and is quiet at the moment, he’s probably at the bottom of the staircase again because he yawned while going down. There’s no schedule today for either of you and you aren’t sick for him to make any sudden trips downstairs, his absence making you wonder this time.

There’s clanging coming from the garage, piquing your interest largely. There sits Jungkook wearing less safety gear that you’d like, blocks and blocks of wood surrounding him.

Your husband looks up, unassuming as usual while he breaks out into a grin.

“I’m making furniture for you.”

“That’s not necessary,” you snort, recounting all of the pieces you’ve acquired from your friend who’s an expert on woodcarving. Jungkook seems to know this too but he’s insistent, shaking his head eagerly.

His eyeglasses (his prescription ones instead of the actual safety ones) fog up from both his sweat and the few tears he’s shed out of frustration, taking them out so you could see the passion in his eyes. The passion’s definitely there, dampening his eyelashes and even tinting his eyelids pink.

“No, I’ll paint it up real good and it’ll blend it to your aesthetic.”

“Besides that, Jungkook,” you warn, coming down to squat on the space beside him. “You’re not good with tools.”

“Not good at them like Hoseok?” he questions, raising his brow. He’s frustrated and cranky and he just compared his (eager yet improper) use of large power tools compared to Hoseok’s expertise in using much, much smaller tools. Jungkook’s sweaty from all the effort, vaguely gesturing to the item in front of him. “Please, can Hoseok do it like me?” 

Your husband points to the lopsided bench (?) slash coffee table (?) slash abstract piece (?)  in front of you whose message is that they’re tired, only the scoopers for faux blood missing. It’s quite the spectacle. Not necessarily a statement piece because it raises more questions than any resolute takeaways at all.

“No, not really,” you joke around, winking to get the joke across your husband’s skull who sometimes reads between the lines too literally. “He can do it much, much better than you.”

“I’m trying to be romantic!” Jungkook whines with no real harm. “Go ahead, why don’t you divorce me and marry him because he’s so good with using a hammer?” 

The two of you were back; the same playfulness and warmth rekindling, if not stronger. Some things were just too strong to grow out of, such as Jungkook’s double takes when it comes to another name being linked to you.

He’s just making sure, still as desperate to gain your validation even before the ring incident took place.

“That was… a joke if you couldn’t tell,” Jungkook laughs robotically, eyes narrowing and widening at you every two seconds. “I’m just kidding. You knew that. You wouldn’t do that… right?”

You wouldn’t.

He knows that you love him. He had known it during his state of vulnerability and he knows it now even in a state of security. He knows it even without a wedding ring, your promise of making new ones for the both of you remaining in his mind.

The downfall of Jeon Jungkook wouldn’t be his persistence that also bears the ability to be his uprising, it was never that. Jungkook’s downfall would only be the loss of you and it’s the only absence that he can’t risk.

Your husband tries so hard that it brings you secondhand embarrassment at times, his mishap with the pink sapphire cementing in your mind just how much of himself he dedicates to you, even with lapses along the way.

Jungkook tries so hard that he ends the day with splinters on his hand and his sinuses clogged with far too much dust. His effort doesn’t always equate to the best but he gives what he always has when you’re in the equation.

It’s a wooden box for your rings, a shallow heart with your initials carved on the inside. It’s smooth even without the varnish, a stark contrast to his hands that are all rough from doing all the labor.

“I can’t give you jewelry that you already have.”

Jungkook admits to you whole-heartedly, sitting at the end of the bed while he watches you admire the box in your vanity.

“But I can make shirts for you. Stitch up your name real nicely on my chest pocket,” he offers, the smile on his lips growing. “I can make furniture for you,” he shrugs, chuckling at himself. “I can’t guarantee that it’s usable but I can make furniture a little.”

You smile so warmly that Jungkook forgets all of the little pains, melting away his fatigue. If you could put all the love you have for Jungkook in a single space, even the mansion the two of you reside in won’t be enough.

“Cooking too. I can also cook a-and make perfect rice and I promise to remember how you like your eggs in the morning.”

Jungkook knows it to heart by now, even without the reminder he’s written himself pasted on the counter. Your eyes were just so glossy and moist that Jungkook can’t help but to spring to your side, patting them dry with his shirt.

Your husband wipes away your tears even before they could form and it pushes them out further, the voice in your throat dwindling. It’s the cheap and rusting mood ring on his ring finger that gets you to sob, seeing the faint green outline that it leaves.

He takes notice of your observation, understanding that jewelry means much  more to you that he could comprehend which is why he’s quick to remedy your thoughts.

“I can always get tattoos of you if that’s what you want,” he continues, smiling sheepishly. “Actually, that’s what I want.”

Jungkook takes off his ring and it forces you to blink away your tears, lips parting open when it clicks.

It’s your initials on Jungkook’s ring finger, recognizing it as your own handwriting. 

You’re filled with a great amount of gratitude that runs even deeper than the ink on Jungkook’s skin, making you sniffle and it gets him to bury your face against his chest while he shushes you.

“Why would you get that?”

It belatedly hits you that since you took your wedding bands, your husband’s left ring finger had not been vacant since. 

“Because you sold our rings,” Jungkook shrugs, the look of ease on his face evident. “You sold them but we’re still married to each other,” he gently kisses your temple, letting you hold his hand to look at the tattoo closer. “We’re married. I still want people to know that I’m married to you.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, distraught with your emotions. “Your mood ring says you’re sad.”

“Passionate would be the term,” he sniffles, transferring the cheap ring to your finger. He giggles when it changes colors immediately, the timing of the situation being impeccable. “Okay now my ring says you’re happy.”

“Are you?” he asks whilst laughing but the both of you know it bears a weight.

“I am,” you answer just as seriously. “We’re okay, Jungkook. I forgive you.”

If you ask Jungkook what would his greatest joy and his greatest pain be, both answers would be you.

“Is your tattoo artist still around?” you ask while he puts you close to his chest, snapping him out of his trance.

“What for?”

“I think I want to match your permanent ring.”

“Are you real?” he mutters to himself, questioning your existence that he still isn’t sure if he deserves to have and love for the rest of his life. “Are you really real? You exist?”

“Yeah, he’s still around but I’d rather do it on you myself,” Jungkook answers eventually, returning the question. “Is that okay? Let me learn for a few months and I’ll tattoo my initials on you myself?”

You furrow your brows, not a single doubt placed on you if your husband was the one to tattoo you. “Yeah, but is that okay with you? You’re the only one who’s gonna have me on you for a couple more months. I can’t reciprocate because you want to ink me yourself.”

Jungkook only smiles, the warmth enough to outshine the sun.

“That’s not new to me,” he reassures you. “I loved you even before I married you.”

[dr3c0mix]

Zombie Horde x AMAB transfem/gn reader who is working to find a cure for the zombie epidemic?

Like I was imagining reader works in a lab that is then overrun, and reader attempts to flee the horde or secretly continue their experiments when they aren’t looking.

Eventually maybe reader gets used to it and decides to take advantage of the “willing” and (usually) non-violent test subjects.

Love ur work btw <3

i havent given you guys your dose of zombie bitches lately so here ya go <3 this can be also be read as gn maybe

Zombie Horde x MtF!Reader Who's Looking for a Cure

CW: i will make you sob at the end istg, a bit of ewuh body stuff

💀 You've been trying to find a cure ever since the first wave of the epidemic, but the virus spread so quickly that you had to halt your research and flee the city, getting in your car after loading all your equipment and supplies in the trunk and driving off.

💀 Now, after just a few months, you were living in a symbiotic relationship with the very things you swore to destroy. At that point, you've forgotten all about the cure, thinking that there was no more hope on this earth for rehabilitation.

💀 But while lying down in your zombie husband pile at night, the idea sparked in your brain yet again, making you sit up, Ribs' head falling from your shoulder, waking him up.

💀 "S-sorry! So sorry Hun! Uhm..I gotta get something!" You pat Ribs' head before stumbling out of your bed, careful not to trip over the others. Bo blinks a bit before getting up and following you.

💀 You hear a low purr behind you as you were putting on your jacket and backpack and see Bo with a pleading, sleepy face. please come back..it's cold... you could imagine him saying. You chuckle and give him a kiss on the nose. "I'll be back, I promise!" and you run off outside to the parking lot.

💀 You retrieve your supplies from your old car, it's dusty and a bit dirty but the papers you've written were still readable.

💀 You carry the box of stuff back with you, Screw and Soda waiting for you and cocking their heads at the sight of their little mate carrying a box full of tubes and paper.

💀 The horde curiously watches you search through the papers, sometimes writing things down. You mumble soft words they didn't understand whilst looking over two or more papers.

💀 Eventually, you circle a string of letters and numbers and you hold your head in your hands with wide eyes, Screw crawls up to you cooing and you turn to him with the biggest smile on your face.

💀 "I think I got it.."

💀 He cocks his head with a chirp.

💀 "I have the cure..."

💀 You would've never considered it, but with your new discovery of visible consciousness in infected subjects, brain recovery and even bodily recovery can be possible, you just had to find a solution that can increase the body's constructive systems.

💀 You would forge for materials far beyond where you usually searched and would meet up with other survivors to exchange goods in order to conduct your research.

💀 Of course, your husbands were willing to help you, once you told them about your plan, they were so happy! Flesh like yours? Count us in! Ribs especially wants to help; he very much wants his torso back...

💀 The first tests weren't very fruitful but gave interesting results, one experiment with Bo included an injection to his arm, which made his heart beat for a few seconds before slowing and stopping like it was before.

💀 You would also see signs of growth, both Screw and Soda's wounds would appear to be healing themselves.

💀 After a few months of experimentation, you were starting to give up, the boys' wounds and lost body parts being unable to grow back.

💀 It was alright for you though, you never really expected to find the cure so easily, and you weren't sure if it could even work on other zombies.

💀 At least the boys looked a bit better than before though, their hair could grow like a human's and their limps were gone, their joints rejuvenated and no longer rigid, allowing them to move like a normal human and not a living corpse.

💀 You thought that was all that you got from your experiments when..

💀 "(Y-Y/N)?"

💀 That...voice? It sounds familiar somehow...

💀 "Babygirl? Can you hear me?" the voice says again, it was gruff with a bit of a southern accent.

💀 "That's not her name!" Another voice, more higher pitched that the first.

💀 "It's a nickname Ribs!" One quietly says.

💀 Your neck almost snaps at the speed you turned back.

💀 "Uhm..hey there babes.." Bo says awkwardly.

💀 Looks like their vocal chords grew back too...

[amoxxii]

"Pernicious Present" Pt.1

Feyd Rautha x Suk Doctor! Reader

Summary: The greatest gift from Emperor Shaddam to House Harkonnen is a ticking time bomb wrapped neatly in a ribbon. Warning: Death, Blood, Torture part 2 (I've never read Dune. This is written based purely on the movie and a quick search.) "What a dull knife," you comment. Feyd has just slashed through his servants moments ago. "Since when did I allow you to speak?" The Na-Baron growls as he sharply turns to face your display of intrusive thoughts. It would be a death wish to anger him right after he had exhibited his rage. But to you, it is just another move in your scheme.

You know that Feyd doesn't have the power to kill you, not yet. All the tears you had wept and sweat you had shed through the Suk School were not wasted. The position: Baron Vladimir Harkonnen's personal Suk Doctor is what keeps your head on your shoulders. Reminiscing, the road to this status has been nothing like a flowery path. The school was hellish, and the exam was arduous, but nothing came close to gaining the Baron's trust.

Since you were sent to Giedi Prime as a gift from the Imperial, Baron Harkonnen had suspected you greatly. His Highness has started to view you in a better light when you dedicated yourself to cease the epidemic in Geidi Prime. There was a terrible spread of the black plague, stemming from rotten corpses to grass to trees to livestock. All had come to a stop because of your findings. Burning the dead with flame has been a custom ever since. It was clear that you possessed the qualities of intelligence, diligence, and efficiency. But what remained in the dark was your trustworthiness. So, he put you to the test by making you screen his food to detect any trace of malice, hoping your true nature would be revealed. The first few feasts were fine, intended to lower your guard. He then made Feyd bring out Safran Şerbeti. The cordial was undoubtedly spiked with venom as instructed by the Baron. The Baron suggested that you could waive the inspection of the gift brought by his nephew, as he wished to avoid straining the connection by revealing any distrust. But just from the sniff, you could tell that the drink was laced. You whispered to the Baron, 'Please do not take this drink, my lord.' Lord Harkonnen chuckled loudly. He beamed, 'Are you suspecting my heir? You must be out of your mind.' The Na-Baron added, 'Is this one of your dog's little tricks, uncle?' Feyd quirked to the Baron. 'Do you want to savor my uncle's exquisite food that much?' Feyd mocked with a baby voice. 'Don't touch that goblet, I beg of you,' you pleaded, ignoring Feyd's scoffing. The Baron shrugged you off, stretching his hand to fetch the golden liquid. You frantically snatched the chalice. 'Ha! Even your tail is wagging! This dog really wants to have a taste!' Feyd rubbed the salt to your wound. 'You left me no choice, my lord,' you surrendered. 'I will prove it to you that the lovely nephew of yours meant to take your life.' You drowned the whole goblet in one go. Consciousness left your body as the grail rolled on the floor. The world of black and white turned to a muddy grey. The Baron clapped, impressed by your devotion. You cleared all the rightful skepticism by putting your life before his and saving him. Once the Baron's trust was secured, your plan began.

[thetriumphantpanda]

pining & desperately waiting | javier peña

take the weight off his shoulders - chapter two

Chapter Summary | As much as he’s trying to keep his distance there is just something about you that Javier cannot stay away from. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, so to speak. He's worried about you too, putting yourself in harms way for your work.

Chapter Warnings | Mutual pining, slow burn, sexual tension, flirting, mention of smoking and drinking alcohol, mention of drugs, drug deaths and the drug trade, explicit smut - masturbation (F)

Pairing | dbf!Javier Peña x F!Reader

Word Count | 3.2k

Authors Note | When I tell you I love this (specific) man, I am telling you I love him. He consumes me. Thank you to @hellishjoel for letting me scream about these two with her and helping me figure this chapter out! If you like this I would love for you to join me in my ask box for screaming and please consider reblogging to support me! If you enjoyed this, you can make a donation to my Ko-Fi if you'd like to support me that way.

I no longer use taglists. Please follow @thetriumphantpandanotifs to be notified of new updates.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi | Series Playlist

You dream of him every night for a week after that night at the bar. They’re filthy, depraved sometimes, and you always wake up, slick pooling between your thighs, fingers working furiously before your alarm goes off to try a satiate you, or at least tide you over until you can climb back into bed that night and really take your time to imagine all the ways Javier would take you apart with his fingers, with his mouth, with his…. 

“Are you even listening to me?” 

You want to answer honestly and say no, you were busy daydreaming about getting railed by your dad’s buddy, but when you look across the table and see your boss practically glaring at you, you realise it’s probably for the best to lie a little. 

“Sorry,” You mumble, picking up your pen, “Didn’t sleep well, what were you saying?” 

“The fundraiser tomorrow,” She speaks, “For Dylan’s foundation, would you be okay to cover it?” 

You nod, because it makes sense for it to be you. Dylan had overdosed just over a year ago – seemingly on top of things, doing well in school and incredibly bright, found slouched over on a street corner, dead from an overdose before he’d been able to leave the small town for whatever bright lights he was destined for. He was just one of a string of drug-related deaths over the past twelve months – an ‘epidemic’ as they had coined it – the town too close to Mexico to escape the trade that Javier himself had worked so hard to quell. Dylan’s parent’s had set up a small foundation after his death, hoping to help other young kids who could be lured into this stuff to have other opportunities in their lives. 

“What kinda thing are you thinking?” You ask, starting to jot down notes as she speaks. 

“Just some reaction from people there, why they’ve decided to come out and support, maybe try and grab one of his parents, just the usual really, and we can run a story in the following days, might help drum up some more support for them if nothing else.” 

You nod, doing your usual with your notes of underlining the important parts, making notes on the kind of questions you’ll ask when you speak to people, “How many words have I got to work with?” 

“I think we can give them a page,” She says, looking to her boss who nods in agreement, “So whatever you produced for last month’s story, that should be good.” 

You nod, making a note of that too, and then continue to zone out for the rest of the meeting as everyone talks amongst themselves, mind going right back to Javi and what he would feel like putting his weight on you, settling between your thighs. You really needed to get a grip. 

“Oh, isn’t it so nice to see such a good turn out today?” Your mom gushes, looking around at what feels like the whole of Laredo milling about a number of stalls that are selling all sorts of different things. 

“Sure is good to see,” Your dad agrees, putting his hands on your shoulders to give them a squeeze, “You want us to leave you to your reporting, pumpkin?” 

The nickname makes you wince a little, a moniker from your early days, before you’d filled out into your body. It was cute, but at twenty-five years of age, you do sometimes wish he’d find something else to call you. 

“I shouldn’t be too long,” You turn around and smile at him, “I can come and find you in a little while.” 

You wander around, introducing yourself to a few people asking them questions and jotting down notes. You’ve just finished speaking to Martina, famous throughout town for owning her own candle business, about why she’s supporting the foundation, when you step back and feel two sturdy hands holding onto your waist. You’re about to turn around and slap whoever it is for touching you, when that deep voice hits your ears.

“Careful, querida,” Javier fucking Peña, “Almost stood on my foot.” 

You whip around, mainly to put a bit of distance between the two of you, because it felt like his lips had been inches from your ear. He drops one of his hands, but keeps the other ghosting at your side, maybe to keep you steady more than anything as you wobble from the speed at which you’ve turned around. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t stand too close then?” You offer, making sure it comes out more playful than anything, because actually, all you really want is for his body to press against you more often. 

“Fair point,” He shrugs, “Thought I recognized you so I wanted to say hi,” He finally lets that other hand drop from your waist, “So hi.” Is... Is he nervous? 

You chuckle a little, “Hi,” you respond simply with a smile, “I didn’t expect to see you here,” You say honestly, this wasn’t his kind of scene before, you can’t imagine it’s any more appealing to him now, “Didn’t think it was your kind of scene.” 

He rubs a hand nervously over the back of his neck, “It’s not, I’ve been made to come,” He nods his head behind him where Chucho is talking to a group of other ranchers, “Apparently I’ve got to start showing my face more.” 

“Well, it’s a nice face,” your mouth speaks before your brain can catch up with what it’s saying, you inwardly cringe when you realise what you’ve said, “I mean, I’m sure people are happy to see you around.” Is all you can think to say to try and get him to forget the weird compliment. 

He seems to smile, but like it had been across the table almost two weeks ago, his smile seems forced, “Just wish I could skip the bullshit about everyone being proud of me.” 

“But it’s true,” You shrug, moving away from the stall with him so other people can in front of you to look, “You did really good things out there.” 

He scoffs now, shaking his head a little, “You shouldn’t believe everything you read in the newspapers, querida,” He speaks, “Surely you should know that more than anyone.” 

You don’t know what he’s actually trying to say, but you decide to play it light, “Are you accusing me of lying in my stories, Peña?” You say with a smirk. 

“Perhaps not you,” He offers, “But I know plenty of journalists who know how to twist a story to get what they want,” He looks down at his shoes, kicking at the gravel a little, “Just don’t want you thinking I’m something I’m not.” 

“Been gone a long time,” You muse, “You might have to spend some time reminding me who you are.” 

It’s flirting the lines of maybe being too much you think, but you’ve not said anything that’s not true. He has been gone a long time, and if what he’s said is anything to go by, he will have to remind you of who he is or show you how he’s changed. 

“Not sure you’d like who I am now very much, querida.” He says simply. 

You’re about to open your mouth to respond, tell him you’re pretty sure that wouldn’t be true and that there isn’t a thing he could do on this earth that would make you think he was a bad person, but before you can, Chucho is coming up behind him, a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Ah, mija,” He smiles at you, “You here alone?” 

“Hey Chucho,” You greet with a smile, “Mom and dad are around somewhere, I’m just here working on a story.” You hold up your notepad and pen.

“Let’s see if we can’t find them, huh Javi?” Chucho muses to his son, “Get you a nice cold lemonade for when you’re finished?” He motions to the blazing sun and then back to you. 

“Sounds lovely, thank you,” You motion over their shoulder to where Dylan’s parents are stood, “I just need to speak to them, and I’ll come and find you.” 

Javi doesn’t say goodbye, just follows closely behind Chucho as they disappear into the crowds, leaving you to wander over to Dylan’s parents. They’re not strangers to the paper, your boss had written a story with them not long after Dylan’s funeral, trying to spread awareness as to just how deep the drug problem ran in town. The Laredo Morning Times had always been supportive to them, so you didn’t feel the same anxiety you normally did when gathering information for stories, cold calling or knocking on doors trying to introduce yourself before doors are swiftly shut in your face or phones are hung up with a ‘no comment’. 

They’re warm with you as you speak to them, thanking you for coming, thanking the paper for agreeing to cover the event, they even smile, which for a pair who lost their only son in such a horrible way still shocks you for some reason. Their loss hasn’t defined them, only made them stronger, made them determined to stop their pain from happening to anyone else. You make a note to write something equally as poetic in your article. 

The crowds are thinning out a little as the midday sun does its worst. You can feel beads of sweat gathering behind our knees and you curse the fact you hadn’t remembered your hat. You can feel the heat prickling your skin as you spot your parents, sitting on a picnic bench with Javi and Chucho sat opposite them. When you’re close enough to the table, you can see everyone has plastic cups full of lemonade, but there’s one, put in front of the spare spot on the bench next to Javi, that is pink in colour instead of the cloudy yellow of everyone else’s. 

“You get everything you need?” Your dad asks, as you try and fight your legs over the bench in the most graceful way possible. 

“Yeah,” You nod, “Think it’ll make a great piece, Dylan’s parents seem really positive about it all,” You pick up the cup and take a sip, pink lemonade, your favourite, “Thanks for this.” You nod in the direction of your dad. 

“Don’t thank me, Javi got these,” He smiles, “Remembered you preferred pink lemonade and everything.” 

It actually makes your heart swell in your chest. He was always thoughtful, even before he left. Observant almost to a fault. But even after all these years, all of his stress, everything he’s seen, he still knows you well enough to know you prefer the sweeter pink lemonade. You turn your head to him to find him already looking at you with a little smile on his face. 

“Thank you.” You say quietly, sipping through the straw. 

“You’re welcome, dulzura.” 

Javier Peña is doing a piss poor job of staying away from you, even by his standards. He lasted less than a week before he was waltzing over to you, hands on your waist, buying you pink lemonade because he knows you prefer it. There hasn’t been a night where he hasn’t wrapped his fist around his cock and made himself cum over the thought of you. He finds it easier to drop off to sleep once he’s done it, but his nights are still fitful, full of nightmares, tossing and turning, waking up to sweat soaked sheets and a heaving chest. He wonders briefly, when he lies awake watching the dawn arrive through his curtains, whether your body next to him would ease his nightmares? But then he thinks what if it doesn’t. What if you have to wake up, look at him with those innocent doe eyes and see him for what he really is?  No, he can’t let his darkness cloud you, you don’t deserve that, you deserve someone that going to be gentle with you, someone softer, not him with all his jagged edges. 

He's currently sitting in his truck, just outside of the liquor store, contemplating how badly he wants that packet of cigarettes and the bottle of whiskey he’d driven out to buy. He’d done alright so far, chewing on his Nicorette gum, but his fingers are itching for the familiarity of a cigarette between his fingers, and he’d finished the bottle of whiskey last night. 

Then, almost like he’s being punished by God, which would make sense really, all things considered, you’re in his eyeline, walking down the street with a woman who is a little older than you, with your notepad and pen clutched in your hand. It’s late and he wonders where you must be going to report at such a late hour, and then he worries, because in his experience, nothing good happens after dark that worth making the newspapers. As the two of you approach him, he leans further out of his open window, holding his arm out to catch your attention. 

“Hey Javi,” You smile, coming to a stop in front of his window, “What are you doing in town?”

“Just picking a few things up,” He answers simply, because this isn’t about him, he needs to know where you’re going, “Where are you going this late?” 

You turn to the older woman you’re with, tell her to go on ahead and you’ll catch her up, “There’s been some kind of drugs bust a few streets over,” You explain, “Sounds like it might be quite big so we’re just going down to see what’s happening.” 

“Your dad working it?” He asks, because if he is, he knows you’ll be okay. 

You shake your head, “Nah, he’s not on nights right now,” You’re shifting back and forth on your feet, clearly itching to get going, “I’ll be alright though, sounds like plenty of dad’s officers are down there.” 

He turns his head back to the steering wheel and then back to you, “Be careful, alright?”

You smile at him again and if he’s not careful, he really could get used to being the person who draws that from you more often, “I know what I’m doing,” You chuckle slightly, and he doesn’t doubt it, not really, “Been covering this kinda shit for a while.” 

Without really thinking about it, he leans over, roots around in the glovebox and pulls out the little card he knows that’s in there. He passes it over to you, letting you take it, “It’s got my number on it,” He explains, “I’ve been in this shit and I just…” He trails off with a sigh, “Just, call me before you write something that might get you in trouble, okay?” 

“Worried about me, Peña?” You smirk, and he thinks above your smile, he’d like to make you smirk more too. 

“I’ve just seen too many good journalists write things that ruin their careers,” He shrugs, trying to play it off but probably doing a terrible job of it, “Don’t want you to make the same mistake.” 

He watches as you turn the card over in your fingers a few times, before smiling at him one last time, “I’ll call you if need you.” And he really hopes you do. 

In that moment, he gives up on trying to resist the call of the liquor store, pulling out his keys from the ignition and opening his door, climbing down onto the pavement. He stalls a little, before he puts a hand on your shoulder and gives it a squeeze, “Go and get your story, reporter.” And then motions his head for you to go. 

He buys a bottle of whiskey and two packs of cigarettes, smokes two of them before he gets home. He thinks if he were a stronger man he’d have managed to quit, but he’s not, especially when it comes to you. Sure, he knew you before, but this new you? He’s known less than a month and he’s already struggling to stick to his own rules. He steps down from his truck back on the ranch, walks in and pours himself a healthy double, trying to convince himself it’ll be okay, he just needs to keep to himself, but when he’s led in bed at night, thinking of your sweet smile, he thinks this might just be another thing he fails at. 

It’s late. Too late for you to be awake when you have to be at the office in the morning, but you can’t stop looking at the series of numbers, printed on the little card, underneath the words ‘Javier Peña, DEA.’ It’s out of date, clearly, the DEA nothing more than a memory to him. But it’s the principle of it that matters most. He’s worried about you, and he would only worry if he cared right? 

You set it on your nightstand, switch off the little lamp and plunge yourself into darkness, right at the same time as you plunge your hand under your sleep shorts and through your folds. You’re soaked, because you always are when you think about him, it’s actually sort of pathetic. You sink two fingers into yourself, only briefly, letting out a satisfied breath, dragging your slick fingers back you to slowly circle your clit. 

It's new, the way you always need to take care of yourself. The brief relationship you’d had in college with James hadn’t given you much to work with, you hadn’t really felt desperation to get yourself off like this before. 

Your other hand, currently running over your peaked nipples through your tank top, is itching to reach across to your nightstand, pick up the phone and dial that number. You want to breathe down the phone at him, tell him you’re being so bad, that you need him to help, need that deep voice to guide you through it. As you press your fingers harder into your clit, speeding up your circles and bucking your hips, you wonder what he’d actually do if you did call him. Would he tell you to get lost? You don’t think he would, you think he’d do exactly as you asked, talk you through it. 

You imagine his voice in your ear, telling you how good you’re being for him. You imagine his hand replacing your own, sinking his fingers into you, using his thumb to work your clit, the rough of his moustache running over the skin of your neck as he kisses you there. It’s the image of him looking down at you, smiling as he makes you cum that tips you over the edge. That flood of relief that rushes through you as you bite down on your bottom lip to keep you from whispering his name as your body shakes through your orgasm. 

You wipe your slick fingers on the skin of your thigh, roll over in bed so your back is to the phone, trying to get your breathing under control. You drag the covers up under your chin, closing your eyes and trying to sleep without imagining his strong arm around your waist, his broad chest against your back. Does he snore? You wonder as you try and fall asleep. Would he keep you warm? It’s all running through your head as you sleep, conjuring up dreams that come morning have you realizing something has to give, you have to know, you have to have him. You needed Javier Peña more than the air you breathe, no matter how bad it was to admit that, no matter what it meant, no matter what it would cost, you needed him and you think to yourself as you drive to work, that he might just need you as much as you need him. 

[sirenlulls]

get him back! → theburntchip

pairing , theburntchip x youtuber!reader

summary , where, in lieu of yours and chip’s reconnection, fans find out how it happened, and just why you ended things in the first place.

part one (bad idea, right?)

oh, i wanna get him back! 'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad

🔴 Y/n L/n Talks On Breakup, Reconnection, The Launch Of Her Brand, & More! FULL POD EP.77 -Saving Grace

join premiere!

LIVE CHAT !

user: stop i’m actually gonna cry ☹️☹️☹️

user: I KNEW THOSE TWITTER B WORDS WERE WRONG I KNEW THEY DIDNT END BADLY

user: that’s so lala land of them

user: “if i ever complained, i’d be the nagging girlfriend” NO BABY 😭😭😭😭

user: never thought i’d say it but i’m glad they broke up bcs if they hadn’t done it then, it would’ve been MESSY messy

user: off topic but can we please talk about how pretty she is :(

user: “if he ever complained about you, i would’ve given him a belting” YES GRACE 👏👏👏

user: WHY DIDNT WE GET Y/N ON HERE SOONER OMGGGGGG I LOVE THIS DUO SM

user: Sending love from Brazil! XX 🇧🇷🇧🇷❤️❤️

user: stop that’s so sad ☹️

user: she’s so real for the anxiety thing

LIVE CHAT !

user: i feel like i’m watching a tv show

user: “i don’t want to lose this again” and when i start sobbing????

user: ok but is the dick game good

user: HE SWIPED UP ON A COSTA TOASTIE ☠️

user: nah he’s down BAD me too but like 😭

user: he def would’ve thrown a temper tantrum if she didn’t respond

user: grace booing is so real i wanted a kissing in the rain screaming ‘i love you’ confession

user: her smile when she said she’s happy now man they’re literally my parents ☹️

user: Love you both X ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

user: ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

user: the world is healing

user: NAH MAN SWEAR THATS CHIPS BOICE COMING IN NOW

LIVE CHAT !

user: i’m actually gonna cry i missed them sm ☹️😭

user: the camera switching to her looking at him with heart eyes after calling him a bellend is so funny GET HER ASS 👏

user: chip is the new an*rew t*te 🙏

user: oh how i missed him calling her lady and missus

user: he’s the leader of the sassy man epidemic oh lord

user: OMG I FORGOT WHEN SHE YSED TO GO ON COFFEE DATES WITH HIS MUM

user: leave my girl and her spotify playlists alone

user: this has literally made my year

user: just in time for y/n’s fall vids

[tagged: savinggracepod , gkbarry_ , theburntchip]

❤️ liked by georgeclarkeey, georgebxggs, and 98,992 others

yourusername mum! mum! i made it! i’m on saving grace!!!!!! (and i figured i deserved at least one pic of chip from the launch x)

user that episode was the funniest thing ever i can’t even i nearly pissed myself when grace pretended to spank u with the paddle 😭😭😭

user mother ur so gorg i’m speechless

user you know the content is gonna slap when y/n l/n is there

user im so obsessed with u pls

user CAL AND CHIP AT THE FUNCTION SIR 👏🙇‍♀️

user best video in youtube history methinks

gkbarry_ loved having you on babe, even if the boss man gatecrashed 🫶❤️

yourusername he doesn’t like feeling left out smh

theburntchip oh alright then

max_balegde ICONIC!!!!!!

user MY ROMAN EMPIRE

user i hope you know that twt is in flames rn

user i gen teared up a bit when you talked about the breakup 🥹

user icons only

[tagged: ynapparel , nellarose , theburntchip]

❤️ liked by landonorris, behzinga and 97,872 others

yourusername self representing by wearing @ ynapparel the past (and every) week 😩🤭 featuring the love of my life & chip ig…

theburntchip wow alright

theburntchip i thought you were a g 😔

yourusername oops sorry babe

theburntchip we’re over smh

yourusername oh no… what a shame ☹️ anyway… hot girl winter!!!!!!

theburntchip the fits are fire though 😮‍💨

yourusername as always x

user EATING SLAYING DEVOURING

user OH MY GODDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

user forever obsessed with u

user graduated from cuntingtion university with an phd in slaying

nellarose love you bae x

calfreezy chip looking dashing as per usual

theburntchip aye thank you brotha

nellarose AYYYY LOOKING SEXY 🔥🔥🔥🔥

yourusername ALL YOU BABY 💋💋💋

ynapparel looking good and dressed to kill 😉😇🩷

user face card NEVER declines

lissiemackintosh this barbie is my mother

user ur so real lissie

faithlouisak doll 🤩

alice_hez 😍🔥🖤

user WHATS THE SQUARE ROOT OF 64?????

user angel girl 🤍

centralcee 😮‍💨🔥🔥🔥🔥

user NAHHH HES BRAVE COMMENTING ON THE POST W HER BOYFRIEND

user CENCH GET OUTTA HERE MAN

user SIRENSIRENSIREN Y/N BABY RUN!!!!!

user OH??????

user wait am i missing smth why are we freaking out

user @ user cench has always been lowk flirting with y/n, like she interviewed him at some event last yr and he was being so flirty and obviously she was giving him blank wall back BUT when her and chip broke up he got even WORSE like man was always in her comments tryna chat her up and she entertained it a lil but now the bitch is back and he’s bold

user NAH MAN GTFO WE JUST GOT CHIP BACK IN THE PICTURE WE CANT HAVE U RUINING THAT

theburntchip just posted to their story