#i hope that baby has a mother or something somewhere and its not on its own :(

[the-casbah-way]

i saw a tiny fox cub today i don't know why it was on its own i hope it is ok i love baby foxes so much i've never seen one in person before it was SO SMALL

[thetriumphantpanda]

two for the price of one | joel & tommy miller

Summary | Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you've ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That's what brothers are for, right?

Pairing | Joel Miller x F!Reader & Tommy Miller x F!Reader

Warnings | Like, I literally don't even know anymore. Tommy is a cuck in this one, Joel is a dirty talking menace. Pre/No Outbreak AU. Talk of infertility, mention of consuming alcohol, Breeding kink, girlfriend sharing, masterbation (M), oral (F receiving), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, plenty of dirty talk, praise kink.

Word Count | 4.2k

Authors Note | I just want to shoutout the anon who left this request in my inbox. It rotted my brain and now we're here. Special shoutout to the JFC - specifically @sinsofsummers for telling me I could do this and @dinsdjrn and @cavillscurls for their help with some of the dialogue here. This is just filth. Pure unadulterated filth. Enjoy.

That damn piece of paper was haunting you, even from its place deep in the drawer where Tommy had stuffed it when he’d opened it and showed you. Its words telling you what you’d both anticipated but had wanted to prove wrong. Tommy. Infertile. Dashing those hopes of your beautiful babies with thick curls and big, beautiful eyes. He’d taken it hard, like it was an abject failure of his own manhood – the one thing he should be able to do beyond anything else, give you the child you so desperately yearned for, he couldn’t. 

There was a week of tension, where you treaded on eggshells, trying not to bring it up, despite desperately wanting to discuss other options. Then came his acceptance of his emotions, late at night, curled up behind you in bed. It started with a light sniffle, then you could feel his tears drip onto the skin of your shoulders, then the whole-body sobs as he held you, told you he was sorry. You’d turned in his arms, wrapped your arms around his neck and held him, whispering softly that it was okay, that it didn’t matter, that you had options. You could still have a family, just perhaps not in the traditional sense. 

Then came the weeks of appointments. You’d met with an adoption agency first. They’d talked you through the application process, what they expected of you, talked about the type of family you want, but Tommy had been adamantly against it for your first child. He wanted something borne of your blood, of your flesh, even if it wasn’t his that joined it. 

Then there were the medical appointments talk of special drugs Tommy could take, or the possibility of IVF, even a sperm donor. It had started to look like these could be an option until the cost was placed in front of you. There was no way either of you could afford it, not even together, not even if you sold the house for something smaller. You’d reached the end of the line with no answers and the thought that you’d have to resign yourself to being childless. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad? You could take all the love you’d wrapped up for a baby and put it somewhere else. You could love your niece Sarah harder, give some of it to the children you worked with each day at the school – you didn’t need to be a mother to feel complete. The longer you sat with it though, the more you felt something missing. The end of the line was frustrating and lonely. That was, until Tommy came up with an alternative. 

It's late on a Thursday evening. You’ve just cleaned up from dinner and you’re lounging on the couch with Tommy’s arms wrapped around you, your head resting on one of his shoulders. 

“Can I ask you somethin’?” He muses above, settling his lips on the crown of your head. 

“Always.” You squeeze the hand you’re resting on his thigh. 

“What if we ask Joel?” 

“To fix the back steps?” You ask, referencing the rotting steps that had needed sorting since winter cleared, “Can’t you just do it yourself?” 

“No sugar,” He clears his throat, “Y’know what, forget I said anythin’.” 

“Tommy,” You grumble, pushing yourself off his shoulder, you rest an arm across the back of the couch where he’s sitting, “You can’t just say that and not elaborate.” 

He’s nervous. You can see the bouncing of his knee, something you’d clocked was a nervous habit on your first date. He’s also running a hand along the back of his neck, exactly what he always does when he’s got to say something difficult. You can also see the start of prickles of sweat on his brow. He’s not just nervous, he’s uncomfortable. You rest a hand on his shoulder, the way he’d taught you to do it when you’d first met, when he was still grappling with the anxiety and PTSD of being a veteran. 

“I’m worried I’m gonna scare you, sugar.” 

You run a hand through his thick head of curls, “Tommy, I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Promise to just hear me out before freaking out, okay?” 

You stick your pinky up, motioning for him to join his own with yours, “Pinky swear, Tommy Miller.” 

 “What if we ask Joel, you know….” He trails off, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for the words he needs, “Fuck, I don’t even know how to say it.” 

“Just take a deep breath and say it all at once.” 

He takes a deep breath in like you instructed, blowing it out through his mouth, “What if we ask Joel to help with gettin’ you pregnant?” 

It takes a minute for what he’s said to properly sink it. Your first train of thought, stupidly, is that Joel is a carpenter, not a doctor, so there’s no possible way he’s qualified to help with this. Then it washes over you all at once. Heat prickling at your cheeks, breath hitching in your throat, you think you might be sick. 

“You want me to sleep with your brother?” You ask, tone coming out far more accusatory than intended, you soften your expression and squeeze his shoulder when you notice how hurt he looks. 

“Well, it certainly ain’t my first option, or the second and third for that matter,” He sighs, “Look, it was stupid, forget I asked.” 

He moves to get up from the couch, but you’re dragging him back down, fingers gripped around his wrist, “It’s not stupid Tommy, but you gotta help me understand how this is an option.” 

He’s looking at you now, big brown eyes with a hint of sadness staring into your own. He cups your cheek in one of his palms, “I know how bad you want this sugar, how much you want a family,” He leans in to press a chaste kiss to your lips, “And I’m sorry I can’t give that to you, sorry we can’t afford the fancy drugs that would make this easier,” He sighs deeply, “The only option we have is to do somethin’ like this, and if I’m gonna let another man touch you, I want it to be someone I trust, and he’s the only person I would ever trust with this,” He rubs a hand over his face, “Least I know it might have a chance of lookin’ somethin’ like me too, instead of goddamn Steven from Ohio or whoever they’d use.” 

You feel your gut twist when he speaks. This absolutely batshit crazy idea is actually coming from an incredible place of care. He knows you want a child; lord knows you were trying your hardest together to make it happen before that damn piece of paper had to go and ruin it all. 

“You wouldn’t find it weird, knowing I’d had sex with your brother?” 

“Well, it doesn’t mean anythin’, does it baby?” 

“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” You shrug, it was just a means to an end, “You think he’ll agree?” 

“I don’t know baby,” He answers honestly, wrapping you back into his arms, “I’ll take him out this weekend, ask him and see what he thinks.” 

There’s still something here that doesn’t sit right with you. Sure, it makes sense, and of all the people who you could choose for yourself you’d probably have settled on Joel too. Stoic and sensible Joel, brooding and grumpy Joel. He’d always been kind, had welcomed you into the family with open arms, praised you multiple times for finally keeping his brother on the straight and narrow. He was a good man, loved his little girl with all his heart, would never hurt a hair on your head, but you were still uncomfortable. 

“If he does agree,” You shift nervously on the couch, “I want you to be there.” 

“You don’t trust him?” 

“No, of course I trust him Tommy,” You sigh, “I’d just feel more comfortable if you were there.” 

“Anythin’ for you, sugar.” 

It’s early on Sunday morning when Tommy rolls into bed, 3am to be exact, smelling of whiskey to tell you he’s finally asked Joel to help you. He slinks onto bed and wraps his arms around your waist, kissing over your neck and down your shoulder to wake you. When you finally grumble and admit you’re very muchawake now, with his hand gripping your hip, he’s speaking in a hushed whisper. 

“He said yes.” 

“He take much convincing?” You ask, shuffling around in his arms so you’re facing him, his face gripped in your palms. 

“He was wary, thought I’d lost my mind for a good few minutes,” Tommy leans forward, pressing a kiss to your lips, “Told him it was my idea and you’d thought the same, but he came around, think he knows how much we both want this.” 

A part of you had thought he’d say no. That there was no way that stoic, sensible Joel would ever consider sleeping with his brother’s girlfriend in order to knock her up, but he’d proved himself a man of many surprises before. As Tommy presses kisses to your lips and settles you both to sleep, there’s the bubbling of nerves in your belly, of doubt. Are you really doing the right thing? Is this going to make the dynamic between the three of you awkward as hell? Sure, you’re all grown adults and this is just a means to an end, but there’s still the unknown of what comes after.  

Tommy goes out that morning and brings back a bag, filled with ovulation tests and, perhaps a little prematurely, pregnancy tests. You do one of the ovulation tests that morning and as expected, the screen shows a sad face, gratefully showing you that you still have time to prepare for what you’re going to do. Three days later when you do the test again, there’s a grinning happy face, almost taunting you that it’s time to face the music. You show the test to Tommy, who places a palm on the back of your head, bringing your forehead to his lips. He murmurs that he’ll tell Joel, and that’s how not even twenty-four hours later, it really is time to bite the bullet. 

It's late, Joel having insisted that he needed to make sure Sarah was settled and asleep before he came over. You’re sitting at the foot of the bed, legs dangling aimlessly whilst you wait. You really had no idea how this was going to play out, so you’d dressed yourself in a simple cotton nightdress, silk robe tied around your middle for extra coverage. There was an empty whiskey tumbler on the nightstand. You’d had three, maybe four? Enough to take the edge off, but not too much that you weren’t aware of what was happening. 

You hear the doorbell chime and then Tommy’s heavy footsteps downstairs as he opens the door. You can hear his voice and Joel’s mingling together, but you can’t decipher what either are saying. You probably don’t want too either. What could two brothers’ possibly have to say to each other when one is getting ready to sleep with the others girlfriend? You listen to them talk for a bit before you can hear two sets of feet ascending the stairs. You stand from the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself for another layer of comfort when there’s a knock at the door. 

“Come in!” You call, bouncing nervously from foot to foot. 

The door swings open and Joel is stood there, dressed in his usual attire, dark wash jeans and a black t-shirt, work boots obviously discarded downstairs, Tommy knew you hated people tracking dirt into the house. He takes a moment to take the sight of you in and you think you must look ridiculous, silk robe making way to bare legs – it had seemed like such a good idea at the time, he could just push the material up, do what he needed to do and be gone, but now you wonder if it looks like you’re trying to seduce him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” Joel’s voice is soft and when you look into his eyes, they are too, and it does put you at some ease, “C’mere.” He’s motioning for you to step closer, opening his arms so he can pull you into a hug. 

You’ve hugged Joel hundreds of times before this, in much the same way. One of his arms wrapped around your shoulders, the other squeezing into the middle of your back. It’s usually friendly, meaningless really, but when you take in the press of his broad frame, you can’t help but realise you’re going to know him far more intimately than you’d ever imagined by the end of the night. 

He releases you and you’re semi-aware that Tommy has slunk into the room behind his brother, he’s leaning against the wall as he watches Joel take hold of your hand, guiding you back to sit on the bed where you had been before. God, you think, he’s not wasting his time, he wants this to be over just as much as I do. You look up at his broad frame towering over you, if this was anyone else, you’d be intimidated, but he’s still got that soft look to his brown eyes. He shocks you next, cupping your jaw in his hand and running his calloused thumb over your bottom lip. 

He turns his head to Tommy, “You wanna tell me what she likes?” 

Oh. Oh. You’d expected something much more clinical than this. You’d never imagined he’d work to make sure you enjoyed it. You also turn your head in Tommy’s direction. He’s still leant against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other with his arms crossed. 

“She likes getting her pussy eaten, don’t you baby?” 

Joel is gently coaxing your face back to look at him, staring directly into your eyes, “That right, darlin’?” You look up at him as you nod, mouth open a little in shock, “Wanna make sure you enjoy this,” He’s saying, “Gonna take real good care of you.” 

Then, he’s dropping to his knees at the front of the bed, shifting so your legs are draped over his wide shoulders. Whilst Joel is focused on kissing trails from your knee, slowly up the expanse of your thigh, you look to Tommy, who has moved from the wall to sit in the small chair in the corner of the room that you would usually use to read in. He gives you a nod and a small smile, silently telling you to enjoy yourself. Your turn your attention back to Joel between your legs, who has slowly hitched up the cotton of your nightdress to pool at your hips, exposing your pussy to him. 

You can feel his hot breath skittering across your skin and there’s an anticipation building that you hadn’t expected. You’re moving your hips, almost subconsciously, to chase the relief you know his mouth was about to bring. Joel has his big palms on your hips then, holding you steady before he’s licking up the length of your pussy, tongue dipping ever so gently between your folds to find your clit. You let out a shaky breath that you hadn’t noticed you were even holding in, then Joel is moving again, tongue dipping into the entrance of your pussy, licking all the way up again before he’s laser focused on your clit. 

Your hands instinctively rake through his hair, gripping the strands between your fingers to keep him in place as he uses the tip of his tongue to run tight, wet circles to your bundle of nerves. You’re propping yourself up with a hand on the mattress behind you whilst the other keeps its place locking in Joel’s hair. Then, you’re actually grinding your pussy into his mouth, desperate for more but scared to ask for it. 

“It’s okay baby,” You hear Tommy speak from his place on the chair, “We want you to feel good, don’t be shy about askin’.” 

You look down between your thighs and see Joel looking up at you, mouth still latched to your aching pussy, “Joel,” You groan, “Fingers, please.” 

“So polite, darlin’.” He murmurs against your skin before he’s doing as you asked. 

He’s still showering your clit with attention, the sounds of his literal slurping doing nothing to stop the flush of arousal you’re feeling right now, as he pushes two of his thick fingers inside your slick cunt. You don’t know what you’d expected of Joel in this kind of scenario, perpetually single Joel, who never really seemed interested in anyone. You knew now, as he was curling those fingers inside of you, pressing into the spot that had you crying out and gripping his hair tighter than ever, that it wasn’t because of his abilities that he was single. 

“Fuck, holy shit Joel, I think….” 

“You gonna come for him baby?” You hear Tommy ask from the corner of the room. 

“I think…” You let out a sharp cry, “Don’t stop.” 

And he doesn’t. He keeps thrusting his fingers into your pussy, tongue still running those tight circles over your bud, but now he latches his lips around it and sucks, actually sucks at your clit. You’re lost. Your elbow buckles and you collapse on your back onto the bed, crying out a string of expletives as Joel works you through your high. Pleasure has burst across your skin, finding every single possible nerve ending and setting you on fire, your thighs are gripping his face as you ride out the last of the shuddering aftershocks on his fingers, pussy walls fluttering around them as you try and catch your breath. 

You can feel Joel recoiling from between your thighs. You can hear the sound of him undoing his belt and then it clattering to the floor. You use your weak arms to push yourself up the length of the bed, head settling in the pile of pillows at the top. You turn your face to Tommy and gasp, hunger igniting in your belly at what you see. Somewhere in the middle of Joel shattering your world between your thighs, Tommy has shucked his jeans and underwear down just enough to free his cock. He’s using his fist to work himself in slow strokes at the sight of you. 

You can feel Joel’s body clambering onto the mattress with you, settling between your thighs with his wide hips spreading your legs an obscene amount to accommodate him. He’s taking hold of your jaw in his hand, dragging your attention back to his face, “You’re fuckin’ me tonight pretty girl,” He growls, “Eyes on me.” 

It isn’t a torturous job by any means. Joel is weathered, his skin holding the early sign of wrinkles at his eyes, beard starting to grey, but you can’t deny that he’s handsome. Especially when he’s looking at you with eyes that are begging to devour you. He sits back on his knees, taking hold of the belt that is keeping your robe shut across your body to undo the loose knot you’d tied in it. He’s dragging you up by a wrist just far enough to shuck the material from your shoulders, laying you back down to play with the straps of your nightdress. 

“Can I undress you properly, darlin’?” He asks. 

You gulp. Finally noticing that he’s stripped to just his boxers, outline of his incredibly hard cock visible when you let your eyes drag down that far. 

“Go on baby,” Tommy encourages from across the room, “Let him see how beautiful you are.” 

Your eyes are back to holding court with Joel’s own and you nod. He’s pulling you up by the wrist again, sitting you up so he can drag that final bit of material off your body. You lie back down and watch as his eyes drag over every single inch of your skin. 

“Pretty as a fuckin’ picture.” 

He’s got those wide palms dragging down the curves of your sides, holding you in place to just watch you for a second before he’s hooking his thumbs into his underwear and dragging them down his thighs, freeing his cock. He’s fisting himself a few times before he hooks your knees over his arms and slides himself into your waiting cunt. 

It’s all you can do to let out a high-pitched moan at the intrusion, but fuck he feels good. You look up at his face, eyes closed and breathing deeply as he stills inside you once he’d buried in you to the hilt. 

“So fucking tight, darlin’,” He groans as he pulls himself almost all the way out before starting the long, torturous thrust back inside you, “So fuckin’ perfect, ain’t ya?” 

“Fuck Joel,” You throw your head back into the pillow, “Feel so good inside me.” 

He’s picking up the pace now, thrusting into you in earnest now. The angle he’s got you folded into means his cock in brushing that fucking spot inside you that is driving you crazy, raising goosebumps and setting you on fire, drawing high-pitched whines from your throat whenever he finds it. 

“Touch yourself baby,” You hear Tommy’s throaty request, you don’t dare look at him for fear of the sight of him finishing you off, “Joel’s gonna want you to come on his cock, so show him what a good girl you can be.” 

Joel is already circling your wrist with his hand, dragging your fingers to your pussy as he watches where his cock disappears inside you. Your own movements are sloppy but the slick that Joel’s mouth has dragged from you make the movement of circles on your own engorged and sensitive clit easy. It doesn’t take long for your second orgasm to hit you, clenching your pussy around Joel’s hard cock which hasn’t let up for a single second since he started pounding into you. 

“She’s so fuckin’ pretty, Tommy,” Joel’s voice is low and husky above you, almost desperately so, “So fuckin’ pretty when she comes like that.” 

“Don’t I know it, brother.” You hear his strangled reply. 

Joel is all of a sudden flipping you on the bed, your legs straddling his hips, palms planted on his chest to steady yourself. 

“Take what you want darlin’,” He’s groaning, “Ride my cock and knock yourself up.” 

You do just that, grinding your hips backwards and forwards on his cock with your fingers digging halfmoon shapes into the meat of his chest as you lean forward, bouncing on his cock in earnest. 

His palms are gripping the globes of your ass, knees coming up to rest on your bare skin as he starts fucking up into you, meeting your thrusts halfway. The sounds of your skin slapping together is obscene but oh so delicious. 

“You like when my brother fucks you like that?” Tommy’s deep voice draws your attention to him, he’s still got his cock in his hand but he’s thrusting up into it and you can tell just by the look on his face that he’s close. 

You look him dead in the eyes, breathy moan falling from your lips when you say, “I fucking love it, Tommy.” 

It all happens at once. Tommy is moaning and you can see him start to spill across his hand. Then Joel is gripping your hips, stilling your movements as you feel him start to come inside you, filling you up with his cum, your name falling from his mouth with a tangle of expletives built in for good measure. 

“Fuckin’ take it, pretty girl.” Joel is growling from beneath you, pushing his cock impossibly deep inside you like he’s begging your pussy to soak it all up, to get it to take. 

The room is silent save for the sounds of the three of you trying to catch your breath. You collapse, somewhat unceremoniously off Joel’s body and onto the mattress, placing an arm over your eyes to try and calm yourself down. Why the fuck was that so hot? Is all you can think. You’re only semi-aware of him shifting and gathering his things, only semi-aware of Tommy cleaning his hand off on his jeans to re-dress himself. You’re almost asleep when you feel the press of a kiss to your cheek, opening your eyes to find it was in fact Joel who did it, thumb running soothing circles across the skin of your hip. 

“Thank you.” You say meekly, reaching up to cup his face in your palm. 

“My pleasure, darlin’,” He smiles down at you, “I hope it helps.” 

Then he’s gone, following Tommy out of the bedroom and back down the stairs. You can, once again hear their muted voices, but this time, instead of setting you on edge, it lulls you to sleep. By the time Tommy comes back, climbs into bed and spoons you from behind, you’re almost asleep. 

“Did so fuckin’ good for me baby,” He murmurs into your ear, “So fuckin’ proud of you.”

Through the haze of sleep taking over you, you manage to mumble out, “Hope it works.” 

He chuckles, his body shaking your own where he has you wrapped in his embrace, “Me too baby, me too.” 

Within minutes you’re asleep. So asleep that you don’t feel his hand resting above your womb, silently praying that sooner, rather than later, he’s going to start feeling you swell there. Silently thanking the good lord for giving him such an understanding brother and a girl willing to do anything for him. 

[jeonqkooks]

our beloved summer | jjk (07)

You made a vow to hate Jeon Jungkook ever since he packed up and left you without a single explanation, but when he shows up at your door after years of radio silence, it turns out that maybe your resolve isn’t as strong as you thought.

pairing: producer!jungkook x songwriter!reader genre/warnings: exes au, fluff, angst, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of oc's mother because we know girlie is hella traumatized, mentions of drinking, mentions of an almost physical fight, abandonment issues, jk forgets to practice safe driving for 2 seconds, and uhmmm kissing 🤫, anddd that cliffhanger? 👀 rating: 18+ (minors dni) word count: 10.8k note (1): this is the longest it has taken me to update obs and i do feel pretty guilty about that. but it's finally here now and this is one of the chapters that i'm the most nervous about posting. massive thanks to @daechwitatamic and @/wintaerbaer (edited 2024: crossed out but not removed bc even tho she plagiarized obs afterward, she did beta this for me so i guess i still gotta give her that lmfao) for beta-ing this for me or else i would've screamed cried thrown up and scrapped the whole thing, and to @jeonwiixard for being a wonderful cheerleader as i was writing this, and to everyone in my beloved obs discord server for always being so sweet and kind and putting a smile on my smile every day since the server was created. also to my sunshine ☀︎ for introducing me to the song mentioned below bc HELLO is it not just one of the most obs coded songs ever. love you all my babies <3

series masterpost / playlist ; moodboards ; taglist join our OBS discord server ✨

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

Somewhere in the multiverse There's a me and you that works We never fuck it up We're out there still in love Somewhere in the multiverse Maybe that's enough

multiverse - Maya Manuele ft. PEMRBOKE

Sometimes, whenever you look up at the moon at night, you wonder if Jungkook is doing the same thing.

Even when you fall out of love with someone, it still hurts. It hurts because you once loved them so much it felt like the sky would collapse if you couldn’t be with them. It hurts because the love wasn’t taken from you, but rather it started slipping away on its own, more and more each day until you realize you’re holding onto nothing when there once was everything.

You can’t say that you’re too familiar with that kind of hurt though. You’ve never fallen out of love before.

You don’t think Jungkook is too familiar with it either, at least not when he left you.

You wonder if he thinks about you from time to time and gets sad. You think he does, because you know that he loved you. Something ended for him too. The memories that you shared were his memories too.

You hope that it’s painful for him whenever thoughts of you cross his mind, because that would mean that he cares. That a part of him still cares.

And if he still cares, then he might come back.

Despite the front that you try to parade around, there is a part of you that will always leave your heart vacant for him, regardless of whether or not he would return. It’s a scary thought, one that you would rather avoid at all costs, one that says there will be no one that you love more than you loved Jungkook. Maybe there can’t be another person that you will love at all.

You can come back quietly, like the wind slipping through the crack I leave in the window at night; or you can announce your return resoundingly like a sudden downpour quenching the summer heat. I don’t care. I kept your side of the bed empty and warm, waiting for you to come back. Hoping that you would come home.

[08:47] Yoongi: sure you don’t want me to drive you there? [08:48] Yoongi: i can pick you up in 30 [08:52] You: positive 🤧 i told you i already booked the train. it’s only 4 hours away [08:53] You: i’ll survive, yoongs [08:55] Yoongi: did you not watch Train To Busan? [08:56] You: ? [08:57] Yoongi: what if there’s a zombie apocalypse [09:00] You: yoongi if there’s a zombie apocalypse, how is your CONVERTIBLE supposed to keep me safe [09:01] Yoongi: i’ll put the roof up [09:02] You: stop talking [09:02] You: please stop talking. [09:03] Yoongi: 😡😡😡 [09:03] You: 😇 [09:03] You: gotta get dressed now though. i’ll see u when i get back? :) [09:05] Yoongi: fine [09:06] Yoongi: safe travels. text me when you get there :)

You plop onto your bed with a sigh, glancing at the bag that’s already packed and sitting near your wardrobe, lonely. You stay like that for a while, contemplating whether or not you should bail at the very last minute.

It was not on your bingo card that you’d be here, agonizing over your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding. Nope. Absolutely no one saw it coming.

For fuck’s sake, why would they invite you to a wedding? A celebration of love? It feels like you’re being forced onto a prank show, just waiting for someone to jump out and scream in your face.

You learned that the wedding was for close friends and family only, so it would be a relatively small event, which makes it even more confusing why you were also asked to join. Maybe the world is changing too rapidly and you’re just a little old-fashioned for it, but you really don’t understand why your ex-boyfriend’s family would want you there.

Taehyung and Jimin were invited too; they’re Jungkook’s best friends after all. They’re practically an extension of the family, Jungkook’s brothers by choice. But Taehyung doesn’t come back from his work trip until the day of the wedding, and Jimin… Well, he just doesn’t want to go to a Busan wedding in the middle of winter.

So why are you even going?

You could’ve declined. Said you couldn’t attend because the invitation came in so late. Made up a work trip or a family emergency. There’s a plethora of excuses you could’ve used.

Or you could’ve simply said no. That would’ve been perfectly fine too. No one would even need to ask why.

But maybe it was because his mother had customized the invite with her own handwriting in the back. You would’ve missed it if you hadn’t spent hours meticulously studying the card like someone was going to quiz you. It wasn’t anything special - just We hope to see you there - but you think you’d feel really bad to decline after she’d made the extra effort to ask you to come.

When you told Yoongi that you would be attending Jungkook’s brother’s wedding, he didn’t seem upset. Still cool as a cucumber. Although if he was bothered by the announcement, you don’t think he would’ve let it show. It did take him a minute to take it in, but then he just pecked your cheek and asked if you could bring a plus-one. You both knew that you wouldn’t even if that was an option.

Pushing your body off the bed, you drag yourself to the bathroom to splash some water on your face. Then sunscreen. Then change into the clothes you’d already picked out last night. Your train doesn’t leave for another hour and fifteen minutes, but you want to be there at least twenty minutes early just in case. This is one of your only good habits.

You rub your eyes when you finally haul yourself outside, thinking you must still be dreaming because what is Jungkook’s car doing here?

You blink a few times, expecting the vehicle to disappear in a puff of white smoke.

Spoiler alert: It doesn’t.

The car is in front of you, but the man is nowhere to be found.

You stand there dumbfoundedly, contemplating whether you should wait it out for a little bit to see if he’s actually here. He comes running up to you a couple minutes later, holding two paper cups in his hands, one of them a chai latte. A memory you’d buried long ago comes rushing to the surface. It’s too early for you to be feeling.

“Hi,” he says, his warm breath coming out in a huff of smoke in the crisp morning air.

“Hi?” you mutter dumbly when he trades the bag in your hand for the drink. There’s a moment where you’re genuinely baffled, wondering if this is a memory reel playing right before your eyes. This is your Jungkook, wearing that same old smile whenever he used to come bounding up your dorm building so you could walk to the library together, where he would hang out with you during your shift if he didn’t have classes. “What are you doing here?”

You don’t remember telling him what time your train was, so he’d probably badgered it out of Taehyung or Jimin somehow.

“I thought I could drive us there,” he says. “I texted you about it.”

Well, that explains it. You don’t bother with his dozens of messages anymore. “Oh, uhm, I already booked the train.”

This doesn’t seem to faze him at all. “Free cancellation up to 15 minutes before departure.” Jungkook grins, clearly eager despite your obvious reluctance. It’s too early for this, whatever the hell this is.

When you told him that you had RSVP’d yes to the invitation, he was surprised that you even knew about the wedding. He even seemed nervous that day.

“What if I’d already left?” you ask.

He blinks, then stammers like a confused child. It’s cute, and you have to mentally slap yourself over the head for even thinking that.

“Then I’d go after you.”

How? you scoff internally. Unrealistic.

Regardless, not even an hour ago, you were declining Yoongi’s offer to drive you there. Now, you’re standing here, in front of your ex-boyfriend, contemplating whether or not you should go with him.

“Let’s go,” he says after a minute. “We don’t wanna be stuck in traffic.”

“I haven’t said yes.” Yet. “It’s a 4-hour drive.”

You don’t have to clarify what you mean. He understands it.

You both just stare at each other for a moment, the tension suddenly thickening with every passing second. Four hours on the road. Four hours alone in a car with Jungkook. That’s about two hundred minutes more than you think you can handle.

It’s like he can see right through you. “Don’t think about it,” he says, voice dropping lower. “It’s just a weekend. Everything will still be here for you to think about when we get back.”

In your head, it translates to: All of our shit will still be here when we get back. You can keep being mad at me then.

You hope that’s not true. You hope that when you get back, the things that keep you up at night will simply cease to exist. That in the two days you’ll be gone, a genie will materialize and solve all your problems for you.

Either way, it’s probably for the best that you aren’t mean to him this weekend. You’re stuck with him for the next 48 hours or so; it’ll only stress you out even more if you channel all of your energy into tormenting him. Besides, you’re already the ex girlfriend who has no place alongside his family. You don’t want to be the dark cloud raining on everyone’s parade too.

Maybe you’d already made up your mind when you let him take the bag from you.

For the first half of the drive, you were unconscious.

It’s a useless superpower that you have, the ability to fall asleep anywhere - literally anywhere, including in the passenger seat of your ex-boyfriend’s car while he escorts you to his hometown. Melatonin gummies manufacturers hate you.

You could’ve slept the whole drive, but around the second hour mark, you were startled awake when your body jostled forward, straining against your seatbelt uncomfortably. There was an arm trying to hold you back, despite the seatbelt having done its job well.

“Fuck,” Jungkook curses before he turns toward you, worry written all over his face. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, are you okay?”

You blink, still half asleep. “I’m okay,” you say. The minivan that Jungkook almost rear-ended continues on its merry way, carrying what seems to be a family of five. “What happened?”

He sighs, his outstretched arm retreating back to his side. “I got a bit distracted, that’s all.”

You take in your surroundings then. There’s barely any other cars in sight, no tacky billboard that sticks out like a sore thumb to catch your attention. There’s just the freeway, stretching on empty for all you can see.

“By what?” you ask.

“Nothing,” he says. “Go back to sleep. I’ll wake you when we get there.”

See, you have the superpower of falling asleep anywhere and everywhere, but once you’ve been woken up, it’s not as easy to fall back asleep.

That, and the fact that you’re hungry as shit.

You open your mouth, about to say no, about to offer to drive the rest of the way if Jungkook is tired, but your stomach doesn’t let you get a word out. It growls, filling the space of the car, making you want to chuck yourself out the fucking window and run all the way back to the city. This wouldn’t have happened had you taken the train, because if you had, there would’ve been food services and no one would be subject to hearing your stomach sing like it’s chewing out a small puppy in there. Life is nothing but an endless pit of embarrassment and despair.

Your arms hold themselves tighter around your frame, practically squeezing into your abdomen as you will it to please, please, please be quiet. Jungkook stares at you, and you can tell by the teeny tiny quirk of his lips that he’s trying to bite back a smile. He’s relaxed, but there’s still something hesitant on his face. It takes him a minute before he finally throws the question out.

“Do you want to go to that guksu place that we used-” that we used to go to, “you know the place. The one that’s right off the freeway?”

The sun is out today. The sky unfolds endlessly just outside the window, coloring blue everything your eyes land on. There are strips of clouds scattered here and there, like delicate strokes of white paint on an azure canvas. Even the winter cold has to soften.You bite into your cheek. Don’t think, that’s what he had told you.

Not much about this quaint restaurant has changed. The quirky decorations are still where they used to be, the windows still the same unique stained glass that you never came across anywhere else. You remember the elderly woman who runs the place, even if she doesn’t have a single clue who you are. The golden retriever you used to fawn over every time you stopped by, sits quietly by the door and watches the cars pass by, his fur now graying as weariness begins to settle into those old bones.

You would’ve been displeased if the place had changed, because, well, you don’t like change. But then again, this familiarity is dangerous. It tricks you into thinking that everything is still the same, even you and him. Deludes you into believing that you’re still in love and that he’ll walk out of here holding your hand.

Regardless, the first spoonful has you biting back a smile.

“How is it?” Jungkook asks.

It makes you feel all warm inside, and then a little sad, nostalgic.

“Tastes just the same,” you tell him simply.

“Hmm.”

He lets you satisfy your hunger in peace. It’s the least he can do anyway.

There’s a wall near the back of the restaurant, where people could hang polaroids of themselves and cute handwritten notes. You think if you dig through the hundreds of photos scattered across the space, you might be able to find you and Jungkook there, if you two haven’t already been thrown out long ago to make room for new memories.

He pays for your food after you’re both finished, despite some protesting on your side. As you leave, you’re busy thinking that if you could have a moment to marvel at that far-back wall of memories, if you could find a photo of you and him there, you would probably sneak it into your coat pocket.

It’d be another thing to add to your pile of Jungkook memorabilia - the old clothes in the back of your closet, the stack of dusty polaroids at the bottom of your drawer. You wonder if he keeps anything of yours, maybe an old t-shirt that you forgot to take back. It’s probably unlikely, but a girl can hope.

You miss the way Jungkook glances back, thinking the exact same thing.

You survive the rest of the drive with more ease, probably because of the food. You spend most of the remaining 2 hours leaning against the window, humming to the radio, closing your eyes but not really sleeping. You even forget to be nervous about what is to come.

That is, until the car pulls up to the venue.

It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a lot bigger than you imagined - a modern beach house overlooking the waters. It’s not as extravagant as one would expect to see when they come to a wedding, but considering the small crowd in attendance, this is more than enough. You see people rush in and out of the place even from far away - planners, caterers, the bridesmaids and groomsmen, probably.

You feel a bit comforted just watching this. His family seems to be doing a lot better than before. It’s nice to know.

You barely make it out of the car before someone calls your name, and pulls you into a hug that knocks the wind out of you. Although, when you catch the scent of her hair, you instantly know who it is.

Parents usually have a scent that’s distinct to only their kids, a scent so cozy and homely that no perfume can ever mask. You can only describe your mom’s scent with a feeling, specifically the feeling of your chest tightening, tingling with a bittersweetness that you never found elsewhere. 

Strangely enough, Jungkook’s mother has always made you feel the opposite. She makes you feel relieved to be in her embrace, like she accepts you for who you are even if all you are to her, at the end of the day, is a stranger.

You hug her back awkwardly, hesitantly, in front of Jungkook’s dad, his brother Junghyun, and a girl you don’t know. You assume that she’s the bride-to-be, the main character whom this weekend revolves around. Sooji, you remember that was the name on the wedding invitation.

You get choked up suddenly, eyes turning glassy though you quickly blink it away. You’re not sure if you’ve had someone be so happy to see you. Bypassers might even think that you just found the cure for cancer.

For a second there, you wonder if your mere presence has ever made your mother this overjoyed.

You look at Jungkook for help, silently asking him to rescue you. Who else are you supposed to turn to if not him?

He understands that look. “Okay, mom,” he says, entangling her arms from you with ease, “Y/N’s tired from the drive. Let’s let her rest, yeah? I’ll show her the room.”

She ignores her son. “Honey,” she says, brushing your hair away from your face so she could see you better. “Thank you for coming.” She used to insist that you call her “mom”, or at least by her first name because “Mrs. Jeon” was too formal for someone she considered family.

You now have to opt for the latter, because “mom” isn’t an option for you anymore.

“Thank you for inviting me, Mrs. Jeon,” you tell her with a smile. You’re not really sure what else to say, but it makes you a little sad just calling her that.

She opens her mouth before closing it again, seemingly about to jokingly scold you for the formality before she recognizes the bittersweet look in your eyes. She just smiles at you then. There’s not much to be done about it.

You don’t know if anyone else sees how the moment is weighed down. Probably not. Maybe it’s just you and her who share this sentiment.

Jungkook doesn’t wait for his mom anymore. Sons, typical. He wedges himself between the two of you like a bulldozer and leads you inside the house. 

Even though all you have is an overnight bag, Jungkook carries it for you all the way up to your room, which is only down the hall from his. Then he disappears pretty quickly afterward, saying something about his best man duties and putting out fires. He seems apologetic as he tells you this, but it’s not like you’re expecting him to babysit you all weekend.

You bore yourself to death in your room for a while, before you remember you have to text Yoongi to let him know you got here safely. Though, you stop short of telling him that it was Jungkook who drove you here. It’s trivial enough, right? You don’t want Yoongi to feel bad over nothing. You do, however, inform Taehyung and Jimin when you text them about it, to which Jimin only responds with a preemptively disapproving ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

When you get too stir-crazy, you wander outside, hoping to explore the beach before it gets dark and colder. You try to stay out of everyone’s way, because a good guest is a quiet guest. You seem to be doing a good job. No one notices you, not even Jungkook��s mom but that’s because she’s the person you actively want to avoid the most. You don’t know what you’d even say to her if she gets you alone.

Everything is hectic, as one can probably imagine when it comes to wedding preparations. You haven’t had anyone close to you get married yet, so it’s safe to say that you’re pretty much clueless about all of this. You wonder what it’ll be like when your big day comes around, if you even ever get married. You haven’t thought about it in a long time. Why would you? You don’t really have a reason to think about this. It’s much easier to picture Taehyung’s or Jimin’s wedding day than your own.

Your opinion on having kids still remains the same, and you were never one of those girls who daydreamed about having a big and extravagant wedding, but it’s not such a bad idea to ponder about. You still think marriage is a scary thing - it’s one of the biggest commitments a person could ever make - but you’re not entirely opposed to getting married. 

Why are you even mulling over this? Your time might never even come.

When you round the corner to get the steps that would lead you down to the beach, you run into Sooji and a woman holding a thick binder - must be a wedding planner. You give Jungkook’s future sister-in-law an awkward smile in greeting, which she returns much more gracefully before she tells the woman that she’ll be with her in a minute.

So now you’re stuck here, about to make small talk with a person you have never met before, and will likely never see again. Great. 

“Hi,” you say, extending a hand. “I haven’t had the chance to introduce myself. I’m Y/N.”

“I’m Sooji,” she replies warmly as she shakes your hand, and you have to stop yourself from being a little weirdo and thinking about how silky her hair looks up close. “You’re Jungkook’s… friend, right?”

You purse your lips before nodding with a chuckle. The pause tells you that she knows, and you wouldn’t be surprised if she’s uncomfortable having you here. 

“I’m sorry if this is weird. You probably don’t want a complete stranger at your wedding.”

Sooji shakes her head instantly, waving her hands around to dismiss your apology. “Please, it’s totally fine. Junghyun’s mom talked to me about it before we sent out the invites. I wouldn’t have agreed if I was really bothered. Don’t worry about it, seriously.”

“Why did you agree?” you ask, trying to sound as polite as possible. “You don’t know who I am.”

“I guess I was curious.” She shrugs, before laughing lightly as she says, “I used to think you weren’t real.”

“Huh?”

“She talks about you constantly. Never in front of Jungkook, of course. But she’s really fond of you, and you probably already know that doesn’t happen very often. She really does see you like a daughter. She made you sound too good to be true.”

You’re not sure how to respond to that. His mom still thinks about you, still talks about you after all this time. You’re just his ex-girlfriend, but she considers you her family. You don’t know what to do with this information nor the way it pinches your heart.

“I-” You purse your lips, fumbling with the responses in your head. You settle on a light laugh, because Sooji can probably tell that you’re struggling with the words too. “I have to be honest. I don’t know what to say to that.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I just thought you should know that you’re still very much loved here.” She gives you a kind smile, and it looks like she wants to tell you something else but decides against it in the end. Sooji’s eyes land somewhere behind you before she points in that general direction. “I have to go take care of an issue with the flowers, but look, Jungkook is here. Why don’t you ask him to show you around?”

And then she’s already off. Overall, what a… strange interaction.

You turn around to see Jungkook standing near one of the entrances to the house. As you watch him talk to someone - a bridesmaid, you assume, or just one of the other guests - you try not to think about the fact that there’s a stirring sensation in your stomach, and that it only intensifies when she throws her head back in a pretty laugh, a perfectly manicured hand landing on his arm like he’s the most charming person she’s ever met. 

You don’t give it a name, don’t label it green in color even though you’re blue and he’s golden sunshine. You don’t acknowledge that it’s a feeling, because doing so would make it real and there are certain truths that you’d rather delude yourself into thinking are lies.

When Jungkook’s eyes catch yours and he cuts off the woman mid-sentence with a curt excuse me, you don’t acknowledge that feeling either, but it’s warm and it blooms in your chest as he makes his way to you. It’s something victorious, something that tickles your ribs.

He comes to you like you’re a destination he’s been waiting all his life to reach, and you certainly, adamantly don’t acknowledge the spectacularly dizzying feeling that swallows you whole when he places a gentle hand on your arm, his voice soft as he says, “There you are. I was looking for you.”

The familiarity, it’s catastrophic.

“I was just walking around,” you tell him. “There’s not a lot to do here. I was bored.”

“You have me,” he says. Probably not in that way, but you’d like to think that’s how he means it. “I don’t have any more fires to put out. What do you want to do now?”

You glance over your surroundings, still set on your original plans. You wanted to go alone, but you suppose you can let him accompany you. You check the time on your phone before asking, “Can we go down to the beach? I wanna see if we can catch the sunset.”

You used to do this whenever you came here to visit - walk along the beach, hand in hand, sunlight in your hair and the cool breeze holding you tight in the afterglow.

The keyword here is “used to”. Now, you have to stuff your hands in your pockets just so you don’t reach for him every time you shiver.

It’s late enough in the afternoon for you to see the moon faintly shine against a blue and orange backdrop. Sun and moon, together in the same frame. It feels symbolic somehow. You’re not really sure.

“The moon looks like an egg,” Jungkook observes astutely, taking casual strides next to you. It makes you burst into easy laughter, which makes him laugh with you too. You stop walking when you reach what you think is a good spot to watch the sky. 

“Let’s sit here for a bit,” you say. It’s not the greatest idea - sitting idly by would only make you colder - but you just want to stop and look at the sunset. Once you’re seated in the sand, you respond to his moon remark, “That’s true, y’know. NASA said so.”

“Yeah,” he says, settling down beside you, “you made me read that.”

You’d forgotten about it, and you didn’t think that he’d remember. It’s freezing cold and the moon looks like an egg, but you’re not thinking, and you feel safe. Nothing can hurt you here, or at least that’s what you’d like to tell yourself.

You wrap your arms around yourself to keep from shivering, but you still shiver anyways.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

“A little,” you admit. “I should’ve worn a thicker sweater. But it’s o-”

He doesn’t let you finish the sentence, just smoothly takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders.

You put your hands atop his to stop him. When you touch him, there’s an electric tingle that almost makes you flinch. He feels warm, still resembling a human furnace. 

“No, you don’t have t-”

“Take the jacket, Y/N,” he says. “It’s just a jacket.”

The jacket smells like him. It only makes you want to crawl further into the warmth.

He seems more self-assured here, that’s what you notice. More like the version of himself that he used to be. Confident, sometimes borderline cocky. Annoying but oddly endearing, you came to love that about him.

His relaxed demeanor is understandable. You’re merely a visitor here, while this is his homeground. 

“I’m curious about something,” he says after a while.

“Okay.”

“What’s the deal with Wednesdays?” he asks. 

“You know how they say bad things come in threes?” You purse your lips, thinking it over, feeling something bitter in your mouth as you recall the events that led to this. “My parents got divorced on a Wednesday. I moved out of mom’s house on a Wednesday. And…” You hold your knees close to your chest as you hesitate to utter this last part, “we broke up on a Wednesday.”

You see the exact moment Jungkook mentally slaps himself, paling a couple shades as he tongues his cheek, not expecting his question to inadvertently lead back to this. It wasn’t your intention to guilt trip him. It was true that he dumped you on a Wednesday, but you don’t want the mood to turn sour, to have to mull over this again. Like he said, it will still be there for you to worry about when you get back. You’re not looking forward to returning to a shitshow, but what you’d hate even more is to tarnish the memories of this place just because you can’t keep from being vindictive for not even a weekend.

“I was born on a Wednesday too, so I guess bad things come in fours sometimes,” you continue, chuckling to yourself humorlessly.

A frown appears on his face almost instantaneously. “What is that supposed to mean?”

You shrug. Jungkook turns his body toward you, which makes you spare him a glance before you return your gaze to the horizon. His face is so serious that it’s almost funny. “Y/N,” he presses. “Why would you say that?”

“C’mon, it’s a joke. I was just being self-deprecating. Lighten up.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“Like what? Contrary to popular belief, I don’t walk around with a thundercloud over my head all the time,” you laugh lightly. “I figured if there was a day to be nice to you, it should be today. And tomorrow, I guess.”

“This is you being nice?”

Funny how just a few weeks ago, you were fighting with him and calling him a hypocrite. Now, you’re sitting together, watching the sun set, trying not to be mean to him.

“I’m not picking a fight with you,” you say. “This is nice enough.”

“It’s not even my wedding.”

“Okay.” You glance at him again, letting words flow without a single thought. “I’ll be even nicer to you on your wedding day then.”

You don’t know where that even came from, but something aches the very second the words leave your mouth. The thought of him getting married one day makes you just nauseous, even though you always knew that it was a possibility. It might even be inevitable.

You clear your throat, waving the sullen feeling away. Your body shivers then, even after the added warmth of his jacket. Maybe you’re not shivering because of the cold anymore.

He doesn’t say anything, but you can feel his eyes linger on the side of your face. The both of you keep tiptoeing around an elephant that follows you wherever you go. 

You hug your knees close to your chest, watching the blue sky melt into the golden horizon, splattered with ribbons of cotton candy clouds.

You want to scooch closer to him and have him wrap his arm around your shoulders. This isn’t the spot where you used to draw your names in the sand, enveloped in a giant heart like two lovesick kids, but wouldn’t it be nice to imagine that it is?

“I was always really happy here,” you mumble to yourself.

You were, truly. This city was your pocket of hope, your piece of peace.

Being here brings back so many memories.

It’s the same feeling you get every time you pass by somewhere you used to live. The nostalgia of walking down the same road you used to walk every day until your shoes wore out. The familiarity of your surroundings. The bittersweetness of looking into a past you cannot hold anymore, of remembering the person you were at a certain period in your life, of knowing the things you do now that you didn’t back then.

You long for things you cannot change.

Nostalgia only grows stronger with time, you can always count on that.

He hums in agreement, before admitting quietly, “I miss you.” One pulls, the other pushes. The water wavers, like it’s touched by his words, simple but earnest. You’re touched too, somewhere in your heart, where you know you should be writing someone else’s name now.

Should?

“You’re pushing it,” you say softly.

“I know.”

You look at him. Maybe it’s because you’re back in the city that holds only good memories of you two. Maybe you’re hypnotized by the way the pink and purple hues kiss his side profile, making him feel like a fever dream and not someone you loved. Maybe it’s the cold, making you yearn for any source of warmth. But instead of returning his sentiment, you say, “It’ll pass.”

He meets your eyes. There’s something pleading in his gaze. All things pass eventually. Time moves forward, people move on. Bad things will pass sooner or later. Your worst heartbreak, your most arduous trials, your saddest moments, they will all pass.

And good things… good things will have to pass too, whether you like it or not.

Your fingers twitch from where they’re still holding onto your body. You itch to reach for his hand. You don’t tell him what he wants to hear, even though here’s a part of you that wants to say it back. In a better world, you would be telling him I love you too, instead of having to suppress an I miss you too.

“All things have to pass eventually. This will too.”

[20:05] Taebear 🐻: we could go to that bar near the gallery. Y/N likes the cocktails there [20:06] Mimi 🐥: kay kay [20:06] Mimi 🐥: soooooo next friday? [20:09] Mimi 🐥: why is y/n reading our messages. shouldn’t she be at dinner [20:09] You: i approve of the bar choice [20:11] You: if you didn’t want me reading your messages, you shouldn’t have sent them to the gc [20:11] You: and if you must know, i’m skipping dinner. i’m avoiding Jungkook’s mom [20:12] Mimi 🐥: understandable. i figured you would do that [20:13] Mimi 🐥: how’s it going? are we regretting going yet? i told you to just stay home and we could binge watch the office together [20:15] You: and EYE told you that you could be a good friend and go to this wedding with me but nooooo baby doesn’t like the cold [20:16] You: you could’ve visited your parents while you’re here you know. two birds with one stone [20:18] Mimi 🐥: babes my parents stayed with me for a whole month last month. i reached my quota for family face time  [20:19] You: son and friend of the year 👏 [20:20] Mimi 🐥: 😎😎😎😘

[20:22] Taebear 🐻: hey [20:23] You: uh oh. am i in trouble? why is this not in the gc? [20:25] Taebear 🐻: lol shut up [20:26] Taebear 🐻: you okay? [20:28] You: feels like that could’ve been a perfectly good question to ask in the gc [20:29] Taebear 🐻: because it’s a serious question and we both know Jimin can’t be serious for one minute to save his life [20:32] You: why does it have to be a serious question? 🤪 [20:32] Taebear 🐻: 😕 [20:33] You: stop pouting. i’m fine [20:35] Taebear 🐻: are you? [20:36] You: i am! you don’t have to go all mama bear on me [20:39] Taebear 🐻: ha ha ha. you’re so funny [20:40] Taebear 🐻: want me to call you? [20:42] You: i said i’m fiiiiiine 🙄 [20:43] You: but also no because i told everyone i was tired and i’m pretending to be asleep in my room right now [20:43] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:43] Taebear 🐻: did you eat something at least? [20:44] You: i have a cup ramen in my room [20:45] Taebear 🐻: okay [20:46] Taebear 🐻: how was today? did JK make you wanna strangle him? [20:48] You: okay Kim Taehyung at least act like you have some faith in your friend lol [20:50] You: but mmmmmm it was ok. he was mostly behaving himself [20:51] Taebear 🐻: mostly? [20:54] You: we were down at the beach and he just told me he missed me out of the blue [20:55] You: Mimi is asking why no one is replying to him  [20:57] Taebear 🐻: i can see that [20:58] Taebear 🐻: what did you tell JK? [21:01] You: i quoted fleabag to him [21:09] Taebear 🐻: i had to google that [21:10] Taebear 🐻: i still don’t know what that means [21:11] You: i know you don’t lol. you’re adorable [21:11] You: i’ll tell you when i get back.  [21:13] You: ok bye i have to sleep early or i’ll look like ass in the morning [21:14] Taebear 🐻: oh. okay [21:15] Taebear 🐻: sleep tight. remember not to gorge yourself on booze tomorrow [21:17] You: thanks for the reminder. love you mom 🙄💕 [21:17] Taebear 🐻: :) [21:20] Taebear 🐻: you won’t look like ass btw

You clocked out right after you told Taehyung that you would. It wasn’t a peaceful sleep though. The anxiety simmering in your belly woke you up a few times throughout the night. You don’t even know why you were anxious. It’s not like you were the one who was about to walk down the aisle.

When morning finally came and you managed to untangle yourself from the surprising comfort of your familiar bed, you practically dragged your feet for the subsequent two hours, trying to get ready. As if that would actually slow down the passage of time.

You had to compartmentalize the things you needed to do in a mental checklist. Makeup. Hair. Dress. Stare at yourself in the mirror for half an hour and internally freak out while waiting for Jungkook to come get you from your room.

Now you’re sitting in the wedding hall, watching people filter into the room. It’s not even a lot of people, but you’re still overwhelmed regardless.

You feel so exposed, even though he’s the only one looking at you in this room of strangers. He’s been looking at you like that ever since he first saw you this morning, in a dress that you got just days before the wedding. You still don’t know if it’s entirely appropriate for your ex-boyfriend’s brother’s wedding - maybe a bit revealing - but it was the only one you could find on such short notice.

When you tried on the dress for Taehyung and Jimin a few days ago, Taehyung said you looked beautiful. Jimin said you looked decent, “six point five out of ten,” which translated to “pretty nice” in Jimin-lingo. That would’ve been enough if you were going to any other wedding, not one where Jungkook would also be attending.

You had wanted him to see you and regret ever leaving you.

It was a silly thought, just a tad adolescent.

You had wanted him to see you in your dress and be consumed with thoughts of you until he couldn’t even see straight. To be the only thing on his mind, you didn’t think it was a lot to ask for.

That was before he told you not to think about it and you’d been convinced to just go with the flow just for two days. It was before he actually did see you earlier today in your dress - a simple midnight blue satin cowl neck with a slit in the thigh - but you were the one rendered helpless and speechless. He had stared at you for a minute when he came to walk you down from your room, then he’d said, all breathless even though both of you were just standing there, “You’re beautiful.”

You’re beautiful, not You look beautiful.

You don’t know why, but you appreciated it.

It made your cheeks burn underneath your artificial rosy blush. Stupid, you thought to yourself when you two made your way to the main hall. Stupid for letting yourself get dizzy because of a single compliment from him.

You’re seated with his parents, which makes sense because you don’t know anybody here except for them. Well, maybe you know one of his cousins whose kid you and Jungkook used to babysit whenever their family was in the city, but you doubt that he even remembers you anymore.

When the ceremony begins, your heart instantly feels like it’s about to drop to the pit of your stomach.

You can’t lie to yourself. It stings.

It stings just sitting here next to his parents like a daughter-in-law, like a member of their family, watching his brother solidify his happy ending.

It stings that Jungkook is standing up there, looking as handsome as ever, but his eyes aren’t on the couple. They keep flickering to you no matter how much you try to pretend that they don’t.

It stings that even though you don’t think about marriage often - or maybe you just don’t allow yourself to - you can’t deny that the thought does cross your mind from time to time. Any time that you’d wander the corridors inside your head, you’d pass the doors that you keep unopened on purpose but there’s always that one door marked with a bright red X that you can never sidestep.

You watch Junghyun and Sooji with their teary smiles and shaky hands, shaky but happy. There’s a sudden clarity that this could’ve been you and him in another life. Forever is a lie, but you would’ve perjured yourself a thousand times for him. I do - you would’ve meant it.

You imagine yourself in Sooji’s place, and Jungkook, standing right on the other side, holding both your hands in his. A beautiful and radiant bride terrified of the altar. A dashing groom with a smile that could rival the sun and shoulders weighing heavier than he lets on.

It would’ve looked clumsy, but it could’ve been right.

You wonder if he’s wondering the same thing. Maybe he is. You hope he is.

When the ceremony ends with a kiss shared between the newlyweds, you wipe away the tears that well up in your eyes. The people around you do the same thing, but they’re doing it for the right reason, out of genuine joy for the happy couple. You don’t think you can say the same for yourself.

Some of the bridesmaids fawn over him. It’s reasonable, you suppose. One tends to do that in the presence of Jeon Jungkook.

You watch as they come up to him one by one to ask him to dance, watch as he politely declines until they’re all stalking away with similar pouts on their faces. You watch him until his eyes lock on you, sitting at a table near the back, nursing a glass of champagne.

He weaves himself with ease through the people making their way to the dance floor. When he’s in front of you, he holds out a hand.

“Dance with me?” he asks, his doe eyes working overtime to lure you in with their sparkles, though you’d rather stay here where you can easily go unnoticed until the night ends. “One song?”

“I don’t know how,” you say, even as you’re taking his hand and standing up.

“I showed you how, remember?”

“That was a long time ago.”

He squeezes you reassuringly. “Just follow my lead,” he says, walking the both of you to the floor. “C’mon.”

Once the music starts, your heels stomp on his feet at least three times before you start finding the beat to move along to. Muscle memory, or whatever, is bullshit. You remember absolutely nothing of what he showed you.

You’re grateful that the song is slow, because it makes it easier for you to follow the beat with your two left feet. He takes one of your hands in his, the other settling on the small of your back, guiding you to move in a steady rhythm.

You feel his mother’s eyes on the two of you, because she must be somewhere nearby, watching you like a hawk. You feel his gaze on your face while you keep yours on the knot of his tie, just trying to keep your composure and to not step on his feet with your heels.

The blur of white that you catch from the periphery of your vision makes you turn your head. Sooji and Junghyun are close by, swaying together slowly to the soft music, both of them glowing with happiness. She must sense your eyes on her, because she lifts her gaze up to meet yours. She smiles at the sight of you and Jungkook, and you smile back, because you don’t know how else to respond to that.

You don’t say it, but you do think it. Your fingers tighten around his hand ever so slightly.

Could that have been us?

If the answer is yes, then it would hurt.

If the answer is no, then it would hurt.

The point of your story is that it’s painful however you choose to look at it. There’s no other way to frame it. It’s just painful, because you’re never going to get any of it back.

You bite your lip, then turn away from the happy couple but you still don’t look at Jungkook. You look at your hand in his, and that’s when you see it.

“How’d you get that?” you ask, gently tracing the inch of slightly raised skin on his knuckles. You never noticed the scar until now.

“It was four years ago, I think? After Taehyung and I almost got into a fight, I went outside and… punched a wall,” he says, wincing as he recalls the memory.

His answer takes you aback. “You and Taehyung got into a fight?”

“Almost,” he corrects. “It was a long time ago. Didn’t they tell you?”

“No, they didn’t say anything. What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“If it was really nothing, you wouldn’t have punched a wall.” You frown. It makes you miss a few beats, but the song isn’t what’s important now, even if Jungkook is still trying to steer you back into the dance. “Taehyung isn’t violent. You aren’t violent.”

“I’m serious,” he says finally. “It’s nothing. We were just drunk and stupid.”

You know there must be more to it, that something must have happened or been said to trigger such a reaction from both of them. But you also know that you won’t probably get anything out of Jungkook if he doesn’t want to tell you.

You give up, for now. “Fine. If you say so.”  You’ll just have to weasel it out of Jimin later.

The song comes to an end, before another one comes on. If Jungkook remembers that he only asked for one song, maybe he’s counting his blessings that you’re still here and dancing with him, because he doesn’t mention it.

For some reason, you pull your hand away from his, only to slide up his shoulder to lock both of your hands behind his neck. He seems surprised, but he does the same around your waist.

Jungkook’s gaze flickers to your lips briefly, then back to your eyes again. You find yourself doing the same and wonder what he tastes like after all the time you’ve been apart. Is he still as sweet as you remember? You used to tease that it was because of the excessive sugar he put in everything, but you knew it was really just him. The few inches between you are so inviting that it’s practically tempting you to close the gap. You could, easily in fact. Blame it on one too many glasses of champagne later if you want.

He looks younger like this, like the boy you loved, starry eyes and dimpled smile. His shoulders are always the most comfortable resting place, the crook of his neck your long lost home. This is nice, you think, to see him again even though it feels like a fever dream. Memories of your first date, your first kiss, come to life before your eyes so realistically that you could almost touch them.

Loved? That sounds funny to you.

The people you used to be, souls wrapped in innocence, when the world was nothing but the arms of the person you loved. You reach out, and the memories quickly fade from view. The only trace they leave behind is a speck of gold on your fingertips, a memento of charming naiveté for you to tuck neatly away in the corner of your mind, but also a reminder that ah, they only exist in the locket of your heart now. Because he has changed, and you think you must have too. Life, as they say, goes on.

“We made it. Kind of. That’s crazy,” you find yourself saying.

“Did we?”

“You don’t think so?” you chuckle. “We’re in a group chat with the Kim Seokjin who spams it with bad jokes on a daily basis. I’d call that a win.”

That makes him laugh. “If you put it like that, yeah, maybe. Sure.”

Other people might be fooled, but it doesn’t sound at all convincing to you. The light doesn’t really reach his eyes. You bite the inside of your cheek, thinking of how to translate the sudden poignant turn of the moment.

“It isn’t everything you hoped it’d be?” you ask.

His shoulders rise then fall quickly in a second-long shrug. “I thought it would make me feel more… fulfilled. But it doesn’t. Not really.”

The way he says it and the way he’s looking at you makes your heart dive. You understand what he means. You’re good at what you do, and you don’t need reassurance from anyone to recognize that. But sometimes, it doesn’t feel like it’s enough. Doesn’t feel like it’s real, like it’s validated.

When you landed your first big project, even before Yoongi, you were so proud of yourself. You were bursting with excitement but you weren’t happy, and you knew what the reason was. Something was missing that couldn’t be filled, not even with all your friends’ hundreds of messages of encouragement. 

It’s beyond stupid, this feeling like your wins amount to nothing at all just because of one person. You wanted him there to celebrate every achievement with you and he wasn’t, and the milestones seemed incomplete without the presence of him. It doesn’t feel like you’ve accomplished anything because this always used to be a dream you thought you’d make come true together.

“It’s lonely,” he concludes.

It sounds like he feels the same way, like he wanted you to be there too.

He suddenly holds you tighter than you think he needs to, like he’s afraid to let go of you. You imagine that he doesn’t want to let go of you, and it makes you feel better for a second. But it doesn’t change the fact that he still did in the end. And he will have to when this ends.

What was the point of this? Why did he bring this upon yourselves when he seems to be as hurt as you are? All of this time, all of these years, lost to what? You could’ve been happy together but instead, you were both lost and miserable.

When the music stops - you lost count of how many songs it’s been - you pull away from him. He looks disappointed, maybe even a little hurt for some reason.

“I’m gonna get some air,” you say, already turning away from him.

“Y/N-”

“I need some air.” Then you’re weaving through the dancing couples despite Jungkook calling your name. How did he manage it? How did he not look back when you called out for him?

You hastily grab your coat on the way out. It’s not going to keep you warm, but that’s not something you’re even remotely concerned with.

It’s everywhere, you feel it down to your bones.

The wind wraps itself tightly around you, intertwining in your hair, slipping through the cracks of your fingers, caressing your face in a chilling touch. You greet the cold like a long lost sister, shivering violently with nostalgia. It was there for you more than your own flesh and blood.

Is that why you like the sea at night? Because it reminds you of mom?

It’s dark out here, barely anything is visible except for a lighthouse sending out light in the quiet of the night. You can’t see much, but you can certainly hear it. You’re not sure if the music is coming from inside the venue, or if it’s still ringing in your ears. It’s probably the latter; you’re too far away to be able to catch the music anyway. But regardless, the tune is quickly drowned out by the sea.

The waves crash violently against the shore like it’s out for blood. There’s a magnetic pull, as if it’s calling out for you. You want to go to it, to reach out and feel the cold outside of your body for once, but you stay there despite your legs itching to stand up and run straight ahead. Into the water and down under.

You could lie down and close your eyes for a moment. The sound of the water, as sharp and brutal as it is, nurtures a part of you somehow.

You just want to be alone. You don’t want to talk to Taehyung, or Jimin, or even Yoongi.

Oh.

Yoongi.

It’s a terrible feeling, knowing that you’re going to hurt Yoongi. Knowing that you’re going to kill this even before it has a chance to truly begin.

Truth be told, you can’t envision a future with Yoongi. There isn’t anything wrong with him, because he’s not the problem here. Yoongi is fun, he’s considerate, he keeps things light on purpose for you, until you’re ready to initiate something more serious. He’s good for you, even Taehyung thinks so.

But you can’t love Yoongi, not in the way that he wants you to. Not more than you love Jungkook.

There you go. Ruining things again.

Did you ruin Jungkook? Is that what happened?

The layers on you are no match for the sea at night. The wind hisses relentlessly, biting at any part of your skin that’s exposed.

It takes you back to that night. Almost everything does, actually.

Maybe that’s why you never even stopped to consider starting anything with anyone, because it always ends. If there’s a beginning, then there will be an inevitable ending. Love isn’t made to last and you aren’t meant to carry love with you. You’ve been abandoned twice. If it happens a third time, it’s a pattern, and then your hypothesis will only be proven. That the problem here is you.

You’d be lying if you said you haven’t wondered when it’ll finally be Taehyung’s turn to leave. He eventually will, right? That one’s gonna hurt.

Then, you’re startled when someone calls your name.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks. The wind and the waves masked the sound of his footsteps walking up to you. When you turn around to face him, his eyes grow worried, almost panicked. “Why are you crying?”

You breathe out irritatedly before you hastily wipe at your cheeks. You didn’t even realize that you’d been crying. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine,” you say, though you both know it’s a lie. “I’m just tired. I’m going up to my room.”

He catches your wrist in a firm grip when you try to walk away. You wish he’d just leave you alone, but you knew he wouldn’t drop it just like that.

“I said I’m fine,” you insist.

“You were crying,” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

He didn’t, at least not tonight.

God, you really don’t want to do this right now.

“Jungkook,” you warn. “Let go of me.”

You try to free yourself from his grip, hoping that he’ll get the hint and back off for now. Instead, he pulls you into his chest, where you struggle to escape from his hold until you realize your efforts are futile. He takes the wind’s place, wound tightly around you, so tightly that it’s nearly impossible for you to move.

You hiss out his name, but he doesn’t budge. 

“Jungkook, can you just- Fuck!”

Damn him.

You realize he’s not giving up, which in turn makes you give up struggling, hoping that if you let this be a moment, then it’ll be something that can pass.

You’re just standing there, letting him hold you, letting yourself be held by the person who broke you in the first place. This feels exactly like where you’re supposed to be - in his arms, with your face hidden in the crook of his neck, his gentle fingers stroking your hair. There’s not a lot that you could do but lean into that feeling the same way you lean into him. One foot in the sand, one foot in the past. A hand on the doorknob of time, wondering if you should look back or look forward.

You want to be alone, but that never used to apply with him.

The wind stills, the sea calms. You remain unmoving too, locked in his embrace. You feel the faint rhythm of his heart, beating faster than you think it should. If you could, you would bottle this moment up and live there forever.

I miss you, you think.

I miss you.

I miss you.

I miss you.

Then your arms are around him too. It only makes him hold you tighter, and all you can think about is how much you miss him, how painful it is to miss him, how you feel like you’re being pulled apart at the seams from the weight of missing him. 

Fuck.

Can you pretend that the last few years never happened? Is there a higher power that would allow you to go back to the night before that wretched Wednesday, when everything was still perfect? Hundreds of days of your life, can you pretend that it was just one long nightmare? When you wake up, you’ll be back in his humble apartment, tangled up together in his bed. Warm sunlight, your silken youth, and him. It was all you ever needed.

Again with the devastating familiarity. The city, the beach. His mother’s warmth that always made you reminisce about your own mother’s coldness. How Jungkook used to find you in moments like this and just stayed by your side until the dejection passed. He understood that he could never understand it the way you did.

You hear yourself sniffle, then you feel him press a kiss into your hair. Home is comforting.

Oh, you never want to leave.

You don’t want to leave, and that’s terrifying.

You allow yourself to stay there for one more second - one endless second - so you could commit to memory what it’s like to be with him. Back and forth. It’s always so easy to fall into him.

Jungkook releases you when he feels you loosen after a while, and you reluctantly meet his eyes as he tilts your head to face him.  His fingers cradling your jaw, how warm and delicate they feel on your skin.

You swallow thickly, your mind going blank. He’s the only person you see, the only one that matters. His eyes flicker south, and even then you don’t make any move to run away, despite his loose grip on your waist telling you that you can if you want to.

You told him that it would pass, and maybe for him, it will. For him, it’s the city and the moment, making him feel like he’s caught up in a page that he’s turned over a long time ago. He was fine with leaving, and he’s been fine without you. It will pass for him, as much as it hurts you to admit it.

But not for you. For you, there’s only him. There’s nobody else but him. It’s always been him, no matter how hard you try to tell yourself that there will be another person you can love as much as you love Jungkook. You might only be a page, perhaps even a chapter, in the story of his life, but he’s your entire book. He’s volume after volume after volume, until he takes up the whole shelf and leaves no room for anything else, not even for yourself.

And now here he is - at the biggest turn in your career.

He’s a bad blood cell you can’t ever get rid of.

You’ll never be able to truly let go of him. How could you? When you truly love someone, those feelings will carry on forever. They’ll always have a piece of your heart despite an ending. When you look back on a certain period in your life, you’ll think to yourself, You’ll always be a part of me. I loved you then.

But Jungkook is a force of nature. He has your whole heart.

Years and years from now, when you look back on your life, you know you’ll see him everywhere. Even when you’re old and gray, and when faces all just blur together in a mosaic of broken memories and long lost youth, you know you’ll still remember him - the person you loved, the one whom you let slip through your fingers. The great love of your life when you were young.

Sometimes, you regret that day. You can’t help feeling like it was your fault too. Maybe you should’ve tried harder to keep him. You should’ve fought harder, should’ve held onto him instead of standing there and watching him leave.

He lit the match, and you let the house burn. It takes two to tango, two to break a heart.

You’re quick to let people leave. Oh, how you wish it could be that easy to let them go too.

It isn’t until your eyes mimic the flicker of his gaze that he leans in. You meet him halfway. For the first time in years, you feel like you could breathe, truly breathe. It’s achingly slow, like neither of you can believe that this is happening. 

You sigh against his mouth when his tongue brushes your bottom lip, slips past the seal to devour you. It feels like a perfect dream. You could stay in this bubble with him forever, pretend that you’re the only two people who exist in the world and there’s nothing else, no one else, waiting for you in a city that seems so far away right now. The thought of him never left you, not even for a second. He’s always been with you everywhere you go, no matter what you do, always in the back of your mind.

He tastes like your youth, like remembrance. He kisses you like he’s still yours when deep down you know that you’re still his. The hand on your jaw is gentle but firm, and it makes you repeat a thought, I miss you.

Then a feeling, I love you.

Not then. Now.

I love you now.

I love you even when I shouldn’t. Even when it hurts. Even when you leave me. Even when you don’t love me more than I love you. If there comes a day where you love somebody else, I will still love you then. There will never be another person for me but you. My first and only love.

When he pulls away, you think it’s too quick, even though your lungs are grateful for the breath that you instantly inhale. You stare at his lips like you’re in a daze, mesmerized, wanting to chase them again. You don’t even know how you have it in yourself to utter these next words, but you hear your own voice saying them anyway.

You’re holding onto him now. Doesn’t that count?

“Let’s…” Your fingers tighten on the collar of his dress shirt. “Let’s go up to your room.”

note (2): so... what do we think?? will they?? won't they?? 😵 stay tuned for obs7.5 which will be dropping 29.09.2023! also i'm gonna pause obs muse asks for a little bit! 😬

all rights reserved © jeonqkooks. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted september 24, 2023]

[delusionalmultifandomwriter]

HiHiHi

So do can u do a Luke Castellan x Child of Persephone (or SMT Idrc)reader and She HAS THE BIGGEST DELULU EVER

Like Imagine Luke faked breaking up with her and she’s like “no no 🥰 I want my kids have that big brown eyes My dear” Or Smt in the lines of that and Luke laughs his but off and ITS JUST HER DELULU OVER COMING HER

Thank you so much for your request! <3

Luke Castellan x fem!persephone!reader fluff

Requested?: Yes!!

I hope you are all well, i love you all!! Have a nice day and enjoy!

Reader cursing at Luke is her love language

Masterlist

Luke was always struggeling to keep up relationships with people. He had Chris as the ever lasting person in his life since they first met at Camp Halfblood when they were 14 years old. After that, everyone was coming and going but noone really stayed for long.

You only joined his life later. Having spent most of your life in the Underworld with your mother, social normes and interactions with living people were a riddle to you.

Long story short, you were... a challenge for most people. Not that they didnt like you. The younger kids loved you and even Dionysus gave you a smirk whenever you left behind a slightly distressed demigod that tried to challenge you.

Maybe you weren't from this realm but that certainly did not mean that you didn't like it at the camp. You were craving the space that the Underworld couldn't offer you. It was only a matter of time that someone would fall for you.

By chance, that was a certain son of Hermes. Luke fell for you just as bad as you fell for him. You knew he was complicated. He was reaching for the stars but got disappointed over and over again since he was a baby.

Luke was in a bad headspace today. He didnt really know when the idea crept up to him. Maybe it was because the gods let him down for one too many times. He had been questioning your love for him for the last few days while he rotted away in bed, trying not to neglect too many of his tasks.

He needed proof of your love. Proof that you would not leave him behind like everyone else did. He contemplated talking to you but proud as he was, he quickly discarded that idea and stirred up a plan instead.

A fake breakup.

It would give him the opportunity to see your raw reaction. And he could find out if you were serious about him. Or even glad to get rid off him? Luke didn't want to think about that. He loved you after all.

"You entered the Hermes Cabin after sword practice this afternoon. You were a little sweaty and your clothes had dust stains on it from the sand in the arena. Luke was laying on his bed, his arm covering his eyes. You thought that maybe he was sleeping so you tiptoed over to your bed and started taking off your boots.

Luke shuffled on his bed and groaned as he sat up. He smiled tiredly as he looked up to find you watching him. "Hey." He mumbled but his expression dropped soon. You looked at him confused.

"What's up, darling?" You asked while you put your boots to the side. Luke got up and approached you. "I thought about something all day... can we talk?" He asked. You nodded. "Of course. What's bothering you?"

Luke looked around. Besides the two of you, everyone was out of the cabin running around somewhere else. The situation was perfect... He sighed. "I... there is something." He said hesitating, fiddling with his hands. This was not normal. You frowned. Your Luke was never this nervous about talking to you.

"Im breaking up with you." He whispered in a low tone, barely able to get the words over his lips. He could see your world shatter into pieces. Your expression dropped and a couple of dead moths fell from the ceiling, making Luke cringe away a little.

Finally, you broke out of your freezed and shocked state.

"What?! No, no, no, no." You said, tears dwelling up in your eyes. Luke tried to pull his gaze away from you and turned around to the cabin door. There formed a single tear in his eyes too. He hated seeing you cry.

You grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to face you. "Why would you break up with me?" You sobbed. Luke looked at you irritated, trying to keep his sadness down. "You deserve someone better than me." He grumbled under his breath. You pushed him against the wall by his shoulders angrily.

"I wanted our kids to have your eyes." You yelled at Luke, tears streaming down your face. "What?" Luke asked, suddenly taken aback. You violently tried to whip the tears from your face, smearing some dust onto your cheeks.

"Our kids need to have your eyes!" You sobbed and suddenly Luke wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. You tried to push him away but he kept you in his embrace. After a few seconds, you stop trying to free yourself and let your head fall against his chest.

At first you thought Luke was crying too, from the way his shoulders were moving up and down in a quick, steady rhythm but soon you noticed that the bastard was actually laughing.

"I hate you." You mumbled between a few sniffs. "I know." Luke whispered, there was a light chuckled in his voice that he failed to swallow down. "Thats okay. Its what i deserve."

"Luke Castellan, i hate you so, so much. We will meet in Tartarus if you dont quit the bullshit right now." You weakly slapped his chest. "But i love you. Please, this was not real?" Your sobs died down as you leaned against his chest.

Luke swallowed heavily and finally, after a long moment, shook his head. You exhaled and sobbed again, this time because of the relief rushing through your body.

You leaned up to wrap your arms around him too, holding him close. You buried your hand in his hair and made him look at you. "You were kidding, right?" Luke nodded hesitantly, worried you would make some more dead animals fall from the sky.

You wanted to slap Luke. But that is not what you do to your boyfriend, at least not right now. Instead you rested your head on his shoulder and rubbed your tears dry on his tshirt.

"Hey." Luke complained, trying to push you off but you pressed him against the wall and continued to use him as your personal tissue paper. "That's your punishment, you idiot." Luke carassed your hair and let you go on with you drying your tears.

"Why did you do this?" You asked. Luke looked away, ashamed that he actually thought this was a good idea. You put a hand on his cheek and made him look at you. "This is not what i think about it is, is it?" You asked with a shocke expression.

Luke nodded slowly, lowering his gaze. You sighed and leaned against his forehead. "I really love you, otherwise i wouldn't keep you as my boyfriend. Luke nodded slowly, accepting.

"Luke?" "Mhh?" He hummed. "Will you be my boyfriend again?" You asked. A slight smile crept up on your face but you tried to hide it to not let Luke win just right away. Luke chuckled, his mood becoming a little better again. "If you truly want that." You groaned and bumped your head on his shoulder a few times.

"Just say yes, you morron." "Yes." He whispered. You pet his hair a little. "Good boy." You grinned at Luke, who now rolled his eyes. "But i am not having children with you until we both got a job." He argued but it ended up in a laugh. He was laughing at the absurdity of this situation.

Now it was you rolling your eyes. "Fine. Reasonable." You grumbled and pouted at him a little. Luke smiled and wrapped his arms around you extra tight. "Did you mean it? My eyes, really?" He asked. You huffed.

"I was never before this serious in my life." You stated firmly. Luke leaned forward to kiss the tip of your nose. You scrunched your nose sweetly and peppered his face with small kisses.

"So... if i mess up you will throw dead animals at me?" Luke asked mockingly, as you pulled back. You grumbled and slapped Luke's chest again.

"If you dont cut the bullshit, i will stuff a dead rat into your pillow case."

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Could you possibly do a fluffy Rhys x reader where reader has always been kinda independent and has never really experienced someone wanting to help take care of them and spoil them until Rhys came along?

Let me take care of you.

Rhysand x f!Reader.

Warnings; swearing.

Masterlist.

I hope this is how you imagined this!

Growing up as the middle child of your family you had no choice but do anything alone. Your father was always spending time with your older sister, caring for her and making sure that she had everything she wished for. Your mother on the other hand was always babying your younger sister. When you were eight years old you learned how to make snacks when you got hungry, how to make your bed and how to wash your clothes. You always played with your older sister's damaged toys and wore her old clothes since your parents never bothered to buy new ones for you. It wasn’t that they didn’t have the money, when your younger sister was born your mother filled her room with several toys and clothes. As you grew up you started working at a bookstore and after a while you managed to save enough money to move to your own place. Your parents never tried to get in touch with you and even though it hurt, you continued your life like they never existed.

One evening as you were closing the bookstore a handsome male approached you. He was dressed casually but you could still see how elegant he was even in his loose clothes. “Excuse me do you know where the store owner is?” his deep voice sent shivers down your spine. You looked at him and almost gasped when you noticed his violet eyes. The High Lord.

“Uhm probably at his house.” You replied.

“Oh, did he say something about a book? He told me to come today to pick it up.” He spoke.

“No he didn’t mention it.” You started unlocking again “Come in maybe he left it somewhere.”

He nodded and followed you inside. “Thank you for doing this.”

“No problem” you smiled and checked the counter and the drawers.

“What’s the title of the book?” you shouted from under the counter.

“Beasts of Prythian” he answered, and your breath hitched.

“No its not here. Maybe he forgot?” you said softly “I can write it down and ask him again tomorrow.” “Oh okay. Thank you” he smiled and as you stared at his sharp face and those violet eyes that shined under the light of the stars the bond snapped.

That was how you met your mate, the High Lord of the Night Court -Rhysand.

He came the next day and asked you on a date and now a year later you are packing your things to move in his house.

You glanced at your apartment for one last time thinking about the life you are leaving behind and how much Rhysand changed it.

On your first date he appeared at your door with a bouquet of red roses making your heart skip a beat. No one had ever gifted you something and you had to use most of your power to hold back the tears of happiness.

“This is for me?” you had asked softly.

“Well I’m not planning to take someone else on a date and even though I’m amazing I don’t usually buy myself flowers” he had rolled his eyes with a playful smirk.

“You arrogant High Lord” you had snorted.

He took you to a nice restaurant and when the waitress guided you to the table, he pulled a chair back and waited for you to sit. You hadn’t realized that he was waiting for you, so you pulled the chair across him and sat down. He stared at you, and you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh you pulled the chair for me?” you had asked him.

“Its okay” he had replied with a tight smile.

“I can get up and come sit there if you want.” You mumbled scared that you offended him. “No no its fine I’ll just sit here.”

That night he escorted you back home and left.

Your thoughts kept running to the times he did something like that.

When he came to your house with a bottle of wine, and you spent the night cooking and talking. He kept insisting to help you make dinner and afterwards he made the dessert alone, making your heart swell as he offered you a plate with a feline smile.

When he found out you were having nightmares and asked Madja to make a tea that would help you sleep peacefully. You had looked at him like he had grown a second head when he gave it to you.

When he bought you a gown for solstice after he invited you to meet his family. You had offered to repay him, but he shook his head.

“Let me spoil you my love” he had said, and tears streamed down your face.

The next day you used your savings to buy him a nice quill.

“So you will think about me when you work.” You had said and he chuckled.

“I always think about you.”

Rhysand practically gave you everything you wanted, if you stared at an item for more than five seconds the next day he would come to your house and give it to you.

At some point you felt so bad, like you were using him, so you stopped looking at the store windows. Even then Rhysand would get you the most amazing stuff.

“I saw it and I immediately thought of you.”

“Oh come on this screams y/n”

“I dreamed of you in this, you will look amazing. I can’t imagine another female wearing it.”

“This was made for you”.

And always you would furrow your eyebrows.

“Rhys you’re spending all your money on me. I don’t need more clothes or at this point anything.”

“Let me take care of you.”

You gave up and bought a second closet because your old one was full.

It wasn’t only the things he bought you though. Rhysand could always understand your mood. If you were happy, he would immediately take you to Rita’s or for a stroll in the city. Sometimes he would even arrange game nights with his family.

If you were sad though he would make you dinner and spend the day cuddling you, and telling you that everything is going to be alright.

One day one of your coworkers was being rude to you. You had decided to ignore him until your shift ended and then put him in his place. Rhysand came to pick you up and overheard you coworker saying. “Being the High Lord’s whore doesn’t make you better than us.” You had opened your mouth to tell him off when he knelt in pain, holding his head with both his hands and crying. Rhys strolled in with his hands in his pocket and a cold expression.

“Say that again” he had growled.

Your coworker couldn’t speak.

“Rhys its okay I can handle this” you had said.

“No!” he snarled “say that again”.

When he didn’t reply Rhysand crushed his memories and pulled you out of the store.

“I don’t need you to fight my battles Rhys. I’ve been doing it my whole life.” You had screamed.

“This means nothing. It’s finally time for someone else to take care of you. Your parents may have been useless but I’m not! You’re my fucking Queen.” He had screamed back, his dark power trembling the whole city.

That night you cried in his arms, letting all the trauma out and accepting the new life he was offering you.

“Ready?” your mate asked as he hugged you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I think so.” You sighed and stared at the open door of your apartment from the outside.

“Let’s go then.” He said and closed your door. You smiled thinking how fitting it was for him to close the door of your past life.

“I love you” you softly said.

“I love you too.” He replied and grabbed your bags.

Hope you enjoyed this!

[billluver0124]

"fulfill your wish"

synopsis: bill has always wanted a child, especially with y/n. will she give him such a blessing and make him a father?

WARNINGS: kissing, mentions of impregnating

A/N : i saw a jjk (jujustu kaisen) fic earlier today similar to this and it inspired me to make this story! i think ill make a pt 2 to this but idk, lemme know in the comments if i should! enjoy mwah!!

it was always bills dream to have a family of his own, it started when he was younger and he would see fathers playing with their children. he always thought to himself "i hope that'll be me someday"

hes 28 now, with a wife of his own. who he loves very much and holds so dear to his entire soul. they've been together for so long and he knows shes the one hes gonna spend the rest of his life with, he would love to have a family with her. they've mentioned it here and there, but hes never really asked her the question. does y/n want children with him?

every time they go out, bill sees a pregnant woman somewhere or a family spending time with each other. he cant help but imagine thats him and y/n. oh how he wishes to be a father..

the desire gets even bigger whenever y/n babysits her niece. her siblings had a child not to long ago and y/n babysits her often, sending bill little pictures of her and the baby while hes at the studio. seeing y/n with a baby makes bills knees go weak. the way her niece sits so naturally on y/ns hip whenever she holds her. its like y/n was born to be a mother, and bill was so willing to make that happen. imagine y/n with bills baby! that's his ultimate dream.

today, bill was at the studio and y/n at home, babysitting her little niece. she was cuddling with the baby when she decides to send bill a cute little text...

{image attachment}

me and the baby miss you liebe <3

i miss you both too, very much. ill be home in 30 <3

okay baby, be safe coming home.

ich liebe dich❤

ich liebe dich auch meine schatzi❤

when bill saw the photo, his heart fluttered immediately. god please make this woman the mother of his child. the desire to make y/n a mother was becoming unbearable. he needed to tell her how he felt. and he will do just that when he gets home.

he unlocks the door to see y/n on the couch. the baby no where to be seen. "wheres the baby liebe?" he asked, "oh her mom picked her up not too long ago" "oh okay" bill said, giving y/n a kiss 'hello' in which she happily returned. after a little while of peaceful but awkward silence, bill speaks again "schatz, can we go to the room?" he asked, gulping nervously "i-i wanna talk about something with you" y/n raised an eyebrow, confused on what he wanted to talk about. "yea w-we can go to the room" they both got up and walked together to the bedroom they shared. y/n sits on the bed as bill closes the door behind him "so what did you want to talk about?" she asked, bill was hesitant to speak at first but he ended up talking anyways "have you ever...wanted a you know..." he got nervous as he spoke, beginning to stutter "a-a family?.."

y/n thought about it for a moment "i mean, yea but i dont know if ill be a good mother.." bills eyes widen "are you kidding me!? youd be an amazing mother schatzi!" bill takes y/n to the bathroom, putting her in front of the mirror "imagine yourself with a little belly, youd look so cute" bill put his hands on her stomach, rubbing it as if she was pregnant. y/n smiled, imagining if she really was pregnant, if she had a little family with bill. she would love for that to happen, but still..what if she isnt good enough to be a mom?

"i still dont know bill, what if im not a good moth-" "schatz, look at me" y/n looks to bills direction, he places his hands on her cheeks. "ive seen the way you are with kids, especially your niece. you take care of them as if they are your own..." he gets on his knees, pressing kisses on y/ns stomach. "i know you will be a good mother, and i promise to be the best father of our kids" y/n smiled, running her fingers through bills hair. "you really think so?" "yes, ever since we started dating i knew i wanted to be with you for the rest of my life. its why i married you, lets start a family together. its what we both wish for right?" bills gets up, wrapping his hands around her waist. pressing lovely kisses on her face.

"do you really think we can do this bill?" y/n asked, still hesitant on the topic. "i know we can, ive been granted my two wishes of being with you and marrying you, may i be blessed with a child from you as my third wish?" bill had the eyes of a puppy when he asked the question. he really wanted this with her.

after a little moment, y/n nods "okay, we can try and start a family" bills eyes light up when he hears her reply, "really? we can?!" y/n giggles at bills reaction

"yes, lets fulfill your wish"

[fairypaw]

YEAHH TREE TIME EVRERYNYANN

me babbling abt tree under the ✂️

in my humble and objectively correct opinion tree is THE most interesting cat especially with his impact in the books both narratively and the impacts he has for the worldbuilding. Tree is a care free almost lazy, and weird but he makes up for it by being charismatic, highly intelligent, and hes??? so funny?? he met four cats and he makes up a DIFFERENT fake backstory everytime, he's a chronic nonsensical nonchalant nonbinary i love him.

He was born in a unique origin so to say, although putting aside the criticism around The Sisters, Tree or back then Earth, gives us an outsider pov for once and its genuinely so refreshing! i loved Tree's roots and seeing what hardships he went through to be moulded as the clever, witty yet untrustful cat he's become

He overcomes trauma from his origin and his fleeting attachment issues stems from a constant back and forth lesson and events that led him to be disclosed yet painfully longs for a place to set foot.

From the very start, all he ever wanted was just to have something, somewhere, someone to rely on. but from the death of his best friend, to the Sisters "banishment", to his dad's death and every other harsh lesson the world gives that he was better off alone. He slowly comes to unlearn it, by squirrelflight's hope, a quote from him really speaks about how far he's come and how he finally finds grounding and a home, a *family* in the clans

“Her kits deserve to have a

mother, even if only for a short while.”

“They’ll have the Sisters.”

“I guess.” “But Rootkit and Needlekit will have a father and a mother

for as long as they need them, and if they’re in trouble, they’ll always have a Clan to turn to.” PUNCHES A WALL. I LOVE YOU TREE TIMES A GAZILLION !!

Tree knows the bitter lifestyle he had to endure in his childhood, he was so young when everyone around him expected the world, to be larger than life. he would never want that for his shrub babies..

And Tree also embodies the *middle option* that choices and roles arent put into objective boxes, he questions the roles of toms and she cats in the sisters, the way he struggled in his role as a tom, the way he abandons his name, the torment between always wanting a home but constantly taught either by tongue or harsh events that the solitary life, the way he couldnt choose between being a warrior and a medicine cat, to the way he becomes the secret third thing every choice his given.

As a queer person specifically i relate to him but also just in general <3 Tree is a cat who represents healing from past trauma to move forward, who serves justice and sees common ground in every situation, someone who is everything he chooses to be and also he makes awesome horrendous jokes.

[itsonlydana]

"Sehnsucht" || Gran Turismo (2023)

Sehnsucht: German from sehnen (“to long”) + Sucht (“anxiety; sickness; addiction”)

meaning: yearning or craving, but the word as a concept and its roots can refer to a lingering illness of heart-wrenching pining for something

➛ pairing: Danny Moore x fem!reader

➛ idea: Two people too blind to see what the other feels until Jack Salter puts a stop to the hurting and wondering

➛ tags/warnings: Age difference, mature language, mention of drinking, idiots in love, hurt/comfort

➛ word count: 5k

➛ an: i am obsessed with this movie and Orlando Bloom so here we are - i wrote this baby in three days

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Fuck

Would have been the first word of the day but all you can do is groan as the feeling of something pounding inside your head drags you out of sleep.

The hammering is brutal and while your brain is still trying to fight back the lingering grasps of the night and you don't really know what is going on, you are sure you are dying.

"Fuck"

The curse, now being moaned against the warm spot of the pillow your face is mushed against, feels heavy in your dry mouth and hard on your chapped lips. The feeling is disgusting and not just because your mother always threatened to wash your mouth out with soap if you dared to swear but because your tongue is hefty and there is no spit left whatsoever and speaking feels more like grating the words over your teeth.

The hammering doesn't stop, it grows louder and louder, becoming unbearable as your body and mind wake up slowly.

Heat washes over your body in unpleasant waves and you try to kick the sheets away but they cling to your sweating body. You feel like you are burning up, not only from the sheets but from the inside as well. You kick the sheets harder, legs rubbing against each other until the fabric finally slides down and bunches together somewhere at your feet. You couldn't care less about where it lands.

The relief is instantaneous. A slight breeze caresses your nearly nude body and you slightly lift your head in the direction you presume the wind is coming from.

It's deliciously calm at this moment of quiet, the air fills your lungs, kisses the sweat on your body, sends refreshing shivers that soothe the pain in your head and a soft sigh escapes you.

Taking a deep breath your mind finally settles and in that exact moment the sweet moment of ease slips from between your fingers, blurred memories of last night crushing down on you like a bucket of ice-cold water.

A gasp tears through you as you sit up in shock, the sound tearing through your rib cage and lungs painfully like a punch and echoing through the hotel room you find yourself in. Your chest rips apart, every breath shattering another bone and ripping muscle after muscle, while the memories claw their way back from the hazy wall of your subconsciousness back into the forefront of your mind.

The dim light of the bar should've been dark enough to mush the faces, surely they had been counting on it, he had been counting on it but you would recognize him everywhere.

The dark hair with the curls falls into his face, hides his eyes which certainly are closed in pleasure and you can only stare at the hands that are currently raking through the locks, messing up the slicked-back style he favors. His arm flexes, the muscles straining against his shirt visibly even from far away, as he cages the woman against the wall while his other arm is planted firmly next to her head, hiding most of her but not enough that you don't see how pretty she is.

You should look away, save yourself from the pain the image inflicts on you and still- you physically can't turn.

It's like watching a car crash happen, it has been ever since Danny started talking to the woman. Him buying her drinks and flirting with her was the car losing control, spinning and swerving. The hope of everything turning out alright when he had dismissed her arm on his for only a second.

Hope blossoming under conditions far too dark, far too impossible.

Hope repairing the crack in your heart, only to rip it into pieces when he leans into her, whispering into her ear and she laughs and she blushes and you stare.

You stare

watching the car crash

watching Danny lead the woman to the dance floor

watching Danny put his hands on her waist, moving to the music, moving far away from you

watching them stumble to the bathrooms and not making it before he pushes her against the wall

watching alone from the bar, left alone, left to suffer.

And then there was Jack, pulling you into his side, placing a drink into your hand with a mumbled "Come on, drink up, kid" and you bleed and cry and hold on to the shoulder holding you up.

Danny left with that woman, you remember it clearly despite the effort to drink enough to forget. They had left not shortly after he had kissed her and after that, everything had been a blur of alcohol burning in your throat and stomach, the world spinning and turning and coming to a full stop somewhere after you threw up and Jack had to carry you back to the hotel.

It had become a recurring routine, an unhealthy habit you had fallen into ever since Danny Moore had kissed you after the first race you placed first, with all three of you celebrating and Danny and you walking along the beach after Jack had taken off to the hotel room. Your hands had brushed against each other, gentle like the waves coming up licking the sand, a soft caress of the side of his hand that wasn't stuffed into the pocket of his black coat until it became an intertwining of your pinkies, a soft and gentle fall of your hands into each other and his thumb stroking over your skin.

It was how he had pulled you in and kissed you, your hands pressed between your chests, breath coming quickly because of the swift movement and his lips tasted like the salty seawater when his lips moved in synch with yours.

You dry heave, another sob breaking out of your sore throat and would there have been any more liquid in your body you surely would have started crying again. But you were all empty, left hollow and raw.

Your eyelashes still stick together, as you lift a hand to rub over your face and they come back smeared black with ruined mascara. Forcing yourself to get up, you shift to the side of the bed, Jack's bed you presume from the black suitcase lying on the floor and some of his personal items scattered over the surfaces of the room. Legs dangling over the bed you lift your head and are suddenly confronted with your own image.

That Jack had a mirror placed next to the bed was a thought pushed away by the reflection you see. There is no room for any jokes as you stare at the puffy and reddened cheeks with black streaks running over them. They are an ugly reminder of how you tried to catch Dannys eye, the carefully applied eyeliner in the hope of him seeing you again ruined and smudged.

The bags under your eyes tell the story of many nights spent tossing and turning, not being able to fall asleep with the things running through your mind. The question of why you were still trying is always there, whispered into your ear by your insecurities and fears in a voice that sounds strangely like Danny sometimes. Though you know that he would never ask you this.

He was still all over the project "GT-Academy"; despite the fact that Nissan offered him a bigger position which he had declined with a smile and a "No thank you, I am very happy where I currently am" to the cameras when someone had slipped it to the reporters.

They had asked you as well how you felt about Danny's decision, shocking you with this opportunity he hadn't told you about but thank god for all the media training. Falling into a perfected smile the astonishment and hurt were quickly hidden behind a positively neutral facade. You had told them you couldn't dream about working with anyone else than Danny and Jack on your side, moving the question away from its origin and following it up with the upcoming plans you three were working on.

After that interview, you and Danny had argued.

Again.

That started happening a lot more ever since he had kissed you on the beach and stopped looking at you the next morning. In front of the cameras, he was still praising you, talking about "combined forces" and "partnerships" and "teamwork" and "supporting you" while he strayed farther and farther from you away from the lenses and microphones.

Him joining you on the sidelines of every race, cheering for you and always hurling you into a hug if you did well became a rarity. At first the hugs stopped, became handshake and then he excused himself from the races, babbling about press conferences or filming commercials for Nissan before he simply stopped giving you an explanation and just showed up now and then.

He was slipping from your fingers, after three years of working with each other and flying all over the world to see new places and win races, he was harder to reach every day and every night when he would disappear with another woman you lost him more and more.

If you only knew what you had done wrong.

You flinched when a soft knock sounds through the room before the door is opened a crack and Jack tucks his head inside.

"So you are up already", he opens the door wider, stepping inside with the question you don't have the energy for to answer.

Instead, you shrug your shoulders, not turning away from the mirror.

Jack exhales and crouches down to his suitcase. "Don't know if you're hungry but I ordered some room service.", he grunts when he stands up again. "Suppose you should get at least coffee into you." A shirt is thrown in your direction and lands next to you on the bed. It's far too big, falling down to your thighs even while sitting down and you look like a child stealing their fathers' clothes.

"Thank you", you mumble, throat still dry and tongue still heavy.

Jack shakes his head, "No worries. Here, take this as well", he said and walks over to the bed with a bottle of water and what is probably an aspirin-both you take gladly.

While you swallow the pill and greedily inhale the cooling water, Jack sits down next to you. He leans back a bit, his hands behind him on the mattress and you wordlessly fall into the offered shoulder, your pounding temple pressed against his collarbone.

"You should talk to him", Jacks voice is low and the words spoken cautious and his left arm curls around your waist as if he knew you were close to jumping up and running away.

"Jack", you sigh his name in a weak form of protest.

He shakes his head again, before laying his chin on yours. "No I mean it. This won't go well if you don't clear the air", the words vibrate through your body.

"I have this under control" A lie. Not even a good one, as evidently proven wrong by the state of you last night.

"Don't lie to me, kid. I had to carry you into and out of the cap because you were so out of it. Not that I don't understand it. Shit, I did far worse stuff when I was in l-", he stops and you freeze.

The unspoken word hangs between you in the air, pressing down on you like a heavy weight.

"Kid-", Jack starts but you stop him, lifting one hand to lay it against his chest.

It's not like you have never talked about Danny with Jack. At first you tried to suppress the feelings slowly growing for the man but two years ago, when they started influencing your driving because you had no one to talk about it, you had confided in Jack. He had been surprisingly calm about the whole situation, not hot-headed as you knew him but maybe that was partly fault of the whole you still winning races and maybe turning up at his hotel room at 3 am with a bottle of whiskey had surprised him more than you spilling your secret.

So yes, Jack knew that you were falling hard for Danny, have been for a while.

"I didn't mean it like that", Salter says.

You sigh, deflating even more into him. "No, it's fine. I know.. I do", you pause, swallowing "I do love him"

The arm around you tightens and you feel Jack tensing up. "I will kill him someday. Fucking around with you like that. Fuck, he should know better" Looking up Jack wears a stony expression, his jaw clenched and his eyebrows drawn together.

"He has been in the media business far to long for him to fuck up this hard. And those women he fucks" He raises a hand and pinches the bridge of his nose, huffing out in annoyance. "Every damn press conference, I wait for the question about these women and their looks to drop and then I would love to see what he would do."

"Yeah", you sigh wistfully and turn your head back to the mirror. The next sentence is barely a whisper when you say it: "Why do they all have to be this pretty?"

In the mirror you can see Jack's eyes snap down to you, looking at you in a way that makes you think you missed something crucial and just when you want to ask him what that could be, a sharp knock comes from the door.

"Must be room service", Jack excuses himself, unfolding from you as gently as a man his size can and ruffles your hair. He stands up with another groan and you bite back a smile and a joke about how a man his age shouldn't be out partying this hard and late. There is another knock, knuckles meeting the door in the main room hard and fast, in an urgency that has Jack rolling his eyes. Grumbling to himself he walks out of the bedroom, heading for the door you can see from your place on the bed: "Fucking 5-star hotel and you would think with the money we pay they could wait a minute. Let me get that. You should eat something, and if I don't get ´nother coffee in me soon-"

The rest of the sentence dies on his tongue as he opens the door.

You stay quiet, watching in confusion as Jack's back straightens and one hand curls into a fist that surely wasn't a result of excitement at seeing coffee.

Then you can hear him, the low rasp of his voice, desperate and tired: "Jack, I fucked up. I fucked up hard"

Salter doesn't move an inch. Even when you can see Danny trying to take a step into the room, he squares his shoulders and blocks Danny's way with one hand stemmed against the door frame.

"Don't think you should be here right now", Jack says, a warning tone in his voice that Moore seems to interpret the wrong way.

"Oh, you have a girl in there?", you can hear him and see Jack shaking his head. "Then let me in, please. I need to talk to you about something important and I swear I will fucking explode if I don't"

"Moore-", Jacks voice takes on a low growl.

"No, Jack, I mean it. I fucked up badly. There was this woman last night at the bar, don't know if you remember but-"

"Moore, I don't really care who you pick up. If you need someone to get her out of your room call hotel security"

"No!", frustrated Danny groans. "She didn't stay. Not after what I did. Jack, I really don't want to discuss this standing in this hall! We have enough reporters on us already, don't you think?"

Before you had simply stared out the room, frozen at the sudden confrontation with Danny standing right outside but the mention of the woman, pressed against the bathroom, raking her hands through Dannys hair, her mouth clashing against his, you whimper and lift your legs slowly. Bringing them up to your chest, you wrap your arms around them, hugging yourself as to not break out into tears. You don't find any comfort in the fact that she didn't stay. It's even worse to think that Danny just finds a woman, fucks her and then she leaves him.

You could never leave him.

Not if he gave you the chance but he ripped that away from you before you could find out how his touch would feel.

What was it with these women that they could get his attention, even for just one night, but you were left alone to wonder and dream and hope and suffer?

The next whimper leaving your mouth reaches Jack and just when he whips his head to you, eyes looking you over to make sure you are alright, Danny uses the opportunity to duck under his arm and sneaks into the room.

You freeze up again at the sight of him. He is still wearing the same shirt as yesterday but now it's nowhere near as smooth, it's not even tugged into the black jeans and he looks so disheveled and panicked as he trips over a heel, your heel. Your hand flies to your mouth, trying not to make another sound and draw his attention towards you.

"Jack I need to tell you something and you have to promise me that you let me explain before you try to kill me, alright?", Danny stops, his back to the wide open bedroom door, and you don't dare to blink or move a muscle. You are fixated on his unruffled image, drawn into it by the pure realness of him. Where he normally is perfect, always knows what to say, always knows how to present himself to the public, he is now completely unraveled.

"Danny I swear to god-" Jack groans again. "Get out of here!"

"I can't!", Danny cries out, shifting his weight from one foot to the other "I fucked up. She could already be on her way to whatever newspaper is hearing her out and trust me; any of them will tear into her and then into us. Into me. Into her!"

Instantly, Jack's body language changes and with one swift movement the hotel room door slams close through a shift of his arm. "What the fuck did you do Moore?", he fixates the other man, staring him down and Danny shrinks, hiding between lifted shoulders.

"I said her name," he admits, and the room temperature drops.

Jack's eyes grow hard, his jawline is so tense you are sure his teeth are grinding against each other. You have never seen him this angry. Not this type of anger, anyway.

Jack Salter was hot-headed and was known for losing his temper if some of the male reporters threw some truly disgusting offers your way and a few years back when you'd tried to win your FIA-license and Nicholas Capa had made it his mission to nearly kill you on the track, Jack had been close to punching the arrogant boy in front of everyone at the podium.

This was a new version of his anger and it scares you how calm he seemed.

"You said what?", he asks, lip twitching and head following the question with a shaky movement.

"Her name", Danny moans, "Fuck, I was trying so hard and then I say her bloody name when I'm with another woman. I'm going crazy Jack, she's messing with my head and nothing helps"

Who was he talking about? You nearly break your skull thinking of the woman that Danny Moore had been seen in public within the last few years and while you can remember some names and faces from before the Academy, there were almost no memories of mentions or pictures popping up in the press after that. There have been the women at the bars, of course, but none of them had been with him longer than a night.

"Danny, I don't think we should have this conversation right now", Jack presses, moving towards the door again and his hand is already on the handle, fingers curling around the gold-colored metal when Danny explodes.

"How can you be calm about this, Salter? I bloody moaned our girl's name into the ear of a woman who is probably blabbing to a reporter and I need to talk to her before the press asks her why her mentor is thinking about her when he fucks another woman! I don't give a rat's ass who you have hidden in your bedroom! Tell whoever it is you picked up that you will be back but right now I really need your help finding-"

He turns around and your name falls off his tongue in a breathless stutter as his gaze glides into the bedroom. Onto you, sitting in Jack's bed with Jack's shirt, clinging to your legs in an attempt to calm down your breathing that has quickened up during the last few minutes and has now become quite panicked.

You two stare at each other, you already with tears blurring your vision but you can clearly see Jack rubbing a face over his beard. He clicks his tongue against his teeth, grinding out a: "Well now fuck this", before he pushes past Moore, who is standing still in the middle of the room, the arm he had swung into the direction of the bedroom dropping to his side.

The words are burning themselves into your mind as you stare at him, scorching your skin all the way down into your heart which surely has stopped beating because this can't be real.

Your hands fist themselves into the fabric of the shirt, knuckles becoming white with the strength and while your fingernails press into your palms nearly painfully sharp, you can't stop.

Danny Moore has a look in his face that you can't describe. If you had to try though, you would think of a mixture of absolute shock as he first sees you, morphing into anger, longing, and fear in a speed that not even your cars can achieve. His mouth opens to say something and you beg him with your eyes to please say anything, but he just lets his jaw open and close.

The great Danny Moore. Speechless at the sight of a bit of naked skin and you in Jack's hotel room.

Ironic how much you had wished for most of this.

While you and Danny continue the contest of not breaking away from each other, Jack is cursing and grabbing some stuff like his phone, a watch and the coat hanging over the end of the bedframe. He stalks over to your side of the bed again, taking your chin into his hands when you don't react to him calling your name and forces you gently to look at him. His eyes glide over your face, thumbs swiping away the few tears that have escaped down your cheek.

"You need to tell him", he says quietly to you, holding your face in the large palm of his hand. "You tell him everything and I am sure it will work out, kid. Be brave" Jack presses his forehead against yours before he turns and points a finger at Danny.

"If you do any more stupid shit I will nail you to the ground by your balls, Moore.", the threat has Danny nod, even though his eyes show he has no idea what is going on right now.

With that Jack disappears out of the door and the slam is loud enough that you flinch. The aspirin may have worked but the whole situation has your head hurting again.

You look from the door back to Danny, wincing at the man slowly walks into the bedroom. He stops at the doorstep, his posture unsure and drawn into himself like a mirror of how you are holding up.

You wait with bated breath for him to say what is going on, what he meant before.

He finally opens his mouth again, speaking slowly: "So you and Jack, huh?" and the laugh that leaves you is tinted in agony.

"No", you shake your head. "No, not me and Jack. I just slept here" It's a poor explanation, one that doesn't cover how you had curled into the other man's chest as you cried yourself to sleep. You half-heartily lift your chin and point into the other room. "He slept on the couch"

"Ah", Danny nods and pushes his hands into the pocket of his pants. He seems so unsure, so lost and nothing like the man Nissan prides itself with as marketing manager. No sign of his self-confidence in front of the cameras, just as little of his ability to speak quickly and well articulated in any situation. He is a picture of misery.

You two must make a fantastic looking couple right now. Nissans employee of the month and flagship racer reduced to two lost souls staring at each other in completely inappropriate states and a longing between them that would put Shakespeare's tragedies to shame.

You lose the tight grip on your legs, letting them fall back onto the mattress. "Do you mean it? What you said to Jack."

Dannys face screws up and he raises a hand to run it through the mess that is his hair. "Darling, I didn't want you to hear it like that", he starts and you can hear the apologies creeping their way into the conversation, the attempt he will grap on to deny because you know Danny and you know he will always try to save a situation with what he thinks is easiest rather than what is right.

"But I did", you interrupt him "I did and I want to know if you meant it. Because I really need to hear you say the truth right now" There is a begging edge to the words and you turn, sitting on your knees and pushing your fists into the crumbled-up sheet.

Danny comes closer, one step at a time, working out what to do and what to say. Brown locks fall into his face, eyes directed onto the floor like he can't bring himself to look at you.

But you- you can't look away from him.

He has the sleeves of his white shirt pushed up, his muscles flexing as he sits down carefully and leans forward, elbows on his thighs, hands rubbing over his face. You stare at the collar of the shirt, on the buttons he forgot or just didn't bother with and the skin that is right in your face because of it. There are freckles on his chest, dark stars dusted on his tanned skin, drawing you in in such a mesmerizing way.

His hands move to his hair, once again, raking his fingers through it though it doesn't change a thing. "Darling", he mumbles, focusing on his fingers and picking something nonexistent from his nails, "I have no bloody idea how I should start this, fuck. This shouldn't be how you find out, or what you deserve."

"You can't tell me what I deserve"

"No, but I know it's not me"

He finally looks up, dark chocolate brown eyes locking onto yours. There is a longing in them, one you have seen on pictures of yourself whenever someone captured you staring at Moore at press conferences. One that surely must be reflected in your gaze a well.

You shuffle closer. Close enough that your knees brush against his thigh and he flinches, his head twitching to the other side but one of his hands betrays his effort of holding back. It drops down to your leg and as soon as the warmth of his palm makes contact with your naked skin you gasp. Rough finger pads start moving in circles as you lean into him.

"Is that why you ignored me after the kiss?", you ask, and he nods.

"You deserve another man, a better one. Jeez, look at me." He points at himself, raising an eyebrow that radiates disappointment over himself. "I could be old enough to be your father and when I realized I couldn't have you I picked up women who looked like you. That's not the standard you should go for. You can go for so much better"

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for what you are about to say, about to admit.

"Danny Moore" You lean in closer, the mattress dipping under the weight of both of you so close together and your body nearly topples onto him. You use both of your hands to steady yourself, fingers digging into the fabric of his jeans. "You don't get to kiss me, ignore me and try to replace me", your voice shakes, breath stuttering in beat with the double tempo your heart has taken to beat in.

When Danny looks at you again, there is a smile on his lips. "It was easier than doing the right thing."

"And which would have been?"

"Never stop bloody kissing you"

There is a second in which you simply stare at him, the wonderful and stupid man in front of you and then you kiss him. It's not as gentle as the first one you shared under a field of stars, not like you had imagined it ever since. It's messy and raw, your feelings pouring out of your mouth in desperate kisses and Danny answers. His hands find your waist under the shirt, holding onto you as he kisses you back and your eyes flutter close as his lips move against you in such a perfect way.

Both of you know you need to talk, need to figure out how to move on from this point- not right now though.

Right now you just give into the longing, the yearning, the hope blossoming in just the right circumstances.

And the Sehnsucht in your heart explodes, soars as it finally finds what it has been looking for.

[1wingedtraveler]

Heyyy 💙 I absolutely adore how you write subby Scara 💙💙 I especially love the one where he dreams about Ei and then reader “takes care” of him (lol trying to be tame in the description).

I have a request for a similar fic if you’re interested in writing it. I was thinking Scara x afab reader where he has a breastfeeding/lactation kink and after a stressful day dealing with harbinger duties he relaxes by nursing, but of course Scara is a greedy little menace so he ends up wanting even more attention from reader and either fucks them or gets fucked via strap on. So yeah that was the idea I had if you’re open to writing something similar, feel free to change it up if you want. A bit of a “taboo” kink so if you’re not interested in writing for it then no worries 😊

A/N: Hellooo!! The one you're talking about was a commission from a friend acually. She gave me the idea. I don't mind writing lactation i read my share of fics about that😤 anyway thank you for the support❤️❤️❤️ hope you like it

SCARAMOUCHE X AFAB READER

Smut, MDNI

Warnings: lactation, degradation, reader has titts, no pronouns mentioned for the reader, spanking, strap on, spit as a lube, mastrubation, scara barking for you, brat taming

it all started when he came back from work, mad, extremly stressed and sore. You offered to cuddle him to which he agreed.

He climed into a bed with you, burring his face into your breasts. You started to run your fingers through his hair. His muscles relaxed a little. A memory crossed his mind

He once saw a mother and child together. The baby was sucking on its mother's breast. Scaramouche knew nothing about human infants so he thought it was just another thing he didn't understand. He looked up at your face

"(reader)..."

"Yes?"

"Why do human infants suck on their mothers breasts?"

You looked at him with suprised expression. That question came out of nowhere. He did ask things about humans. You assumed it was his subtle way of trying to understand you better. Maybe he was just curious?

"Well, the main reason main reason humans breastfeed is to feed their child"

"Feed? Humans produce food through their body?"

"Humans are mammals so we produce milk to feed our young. It also helps to relax the baby and put it to sleep"

The last part made him think. His harbinger duties are pretty stressfull, there's not too many things that can pull his mind off work. Only you were able to do it. Your touch, voice, scent, face. Almost all his senses were overwhalmed by you. But he wanted all that you can give him

"Can I try it?"

"Wha-?"

"Don't make me repeat myself. You heard me"

That convesation went somewhere you did not expect it to. The eager look in his eyes told you that he was being serious. You weren't against the idea, who knows it might even help sooth his nerves.

"O-Okay, just don't bite me or something"

His hand went up to your loose tank top and pulled it down, revealing your naked chest. He went on top of you, laying down on his stomach. His lips lowered towards your tit before finally taking it into his mouth, making you slightly gasp

Warm tounge wrapped itself around your nipple, kneading it gently. Scaramouche's mouth was instantly flooded with warm substance. He let out a quiet breath of satisfiaction through his nose.

It was so sliky and sweet, it remainded him of dango milk. Hand wrapped itself around his hair again, bringing him closer. You resumed petting his hair. This affectionate made him feel at home, like exactly where he belonged

"You're so cute like this Scara"

Your soft voice rang through his ears. He felt too good to argue, his eyelids felt heavy. The warmth filling his stomach, your touch lulled him into peacfull slumber

After that, it has become a routine. First thing he did when he came back from work was jumping on your lap, pulling your boob out and sucking on it. Then he also started doing it before sleep claiming its the only way he can fall asleep. But more than two times a day? It was getting ridiculous. Your titts were sore

Besides you had some paperwork to do. Deciding to ignore his whining you left the room and headed to your office.

Oh, Scara was not letting you off that easily. He decided to go after you, opening the door to your office. You noticed him come in but you disregared his presence and sat down on your chair, starting to write.

Short man sat down on a small couch, few feet away from your desk. First he just stared at you with bored expression for few minutes. You quickly forgot he was there after getting pulled into spiral of work. Then you heard quiet shuffling if clothes

Scaramouche started to run his hands through his body. Rubbing his shaft throught his short while rubbing his nipple through his think tank top. Breathy sighs were starting to leave his mouth

(You've gotta be kidding me, he's absolutely shamless) you thought to yourself. Staying focused was getting much harder

Your sneaky looks didn't get unoticed by Scara, he smirked and decided to go further. He pulled off his pants along with underwear slightly, making his cock spring out. He brought his hand to his mouth, proceeding to wrap his slopply lick his finger. When spit covered most of his hand he began to jerk himself off

(i've had enough of this brat's shit) you thought, slamming your hands on the desk. You pulled your biggest strap out of cabinet, quickly tearing your pants off and putting it on.

"I will give you what you want, cunt"

your angry voice boomed through the room making Scaramouche shiver. The fingers that once caressed his scalp, wrapped themselves in his hair pulling him off the couch on to the floor

"Annoying brats like you should be fucked on the dirty floor where they belong"

"OUCH-FUCK!"

He yelled, pushing himself up from the ground. You pushed his head back down smashing his cheek against tiles.

"You're not getting up untill I tell you to. You wanted attention im going to give you some"

You pressed your giant strap against his unprepared ass earning cries of pain from him. Taking some pity on him you spat on the toy and spread it around. Finally you were able to push the tip in

"H-HURTS! UGH!"

"Shut up and take it, slut"

With strong thrust you pushed it all in. A bulge formed in your boyfriends flat stomach. His eyes rolled back and mouth opened in silent scream. After giving him some time to adjust you started slowly moving.

"Mhmmmhh"

Scara's moans were muffled by the ground under him, his nails scratching against it. Your hips were slapping his ass harshly, making his whole body shake. He felt every bump of your cock deep in his gut, his mind was filled with nothing but that. His tounge started to hang out of his mouth, drool leaking out of his mouth

After few minutes, he started to move his hips along with your, fucking himself on your cock. Your hand slapped his plump ass loudly, leaving a red mark. It made his cock twitch

"A-ah!"

"Stop moving, whore. You're so fucking dumb, you can't follow simple instructions and stay still"

Your pounding quickened, making it harder for Scara to stay still. He felt a know forming in his stomach.

"OHH A-ARCHONS IM GONNA COME-"

"Oh fuck no" you pulled out, leaving his ass gaping

"You better beg for it, dirty dog"

"PLEASE! please, let me- let me come"

"Hmm how about you bark for me? like a bitch in heat you are?"

"W-woof, WOOF!"

"Thats a good boy"

Giggling you started to fuck him in extremly fast pace. His body went limp, letting you do what you wanted with him, you could hear slurred barking still coming from his mouth.

After one harsh you pushed the button on the remote making the toy cum inside Scara's ass. The feeling of cum filling him up triggred his own orgasm making him come all over the floor

"Mhh wo-woofff.... woofff"

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for giving up everything, including my sanity and moral compass, in a desperate bid to save my daughter?

…I loved her more than anything.

Sorry. I know you probably don’t want to hear about it, but I want to make that much very clear. I have to, for my own sake. I want everyone to know, and so I will reiterate:

My daughter was my world. I can hardly put into words how much I cared about her, at least once upon a time.

She was a happy accident— she hadn’t been planned. I was young, or at least felt young at the time when her mother showed up on my doorstep. We weren’t in a committed relationship. I was a ‘player’ of sorts. I hadn’t intended to impregnate her, but then there we were.

She held her arms and told me what happened. She asked me what I wanted to do. She said she didn’t really want to keep her, and was thinking of adopting her out, but wanted to know what I thought.

I was stunned. I wasn’t ready. I was keen to get rid of her too. But then my baby girl— my daughter reached out a hand and grabbed my finger. And it was as if my whole world shifted.

I realized she was so small. And so incredibly alone. And MINE. I realized if I didn’t protect her, then no one would. That she was my duty.

I told her mother I’d keep her. I became a single father. It was frightening, but I was sure of it. For my daughter, I’d do anything.

And life was good, for a time. We were happy. But then, everything changed. I ruined it.

You see, I was a businessman and mechanic by trade. I had a moderately successful company producing technology. And one day, I stumbled upon the blueprints for a machine that would change EVERYTHING.

It was a wish granting computer… said to be able to make any dream come true. I was ecstatic. Not only would this surely help my company, but it would help ensure my daughter had a bright future. I decided I’d build it— make her life prosperous, and make all of her wishes reality. We even worked on it together.

It was our project. Our collective dream. We poured our hearts into that machine.

But it went wrong. It had to, didn’t it? There’s no such thing as a true miracle. Partway through building the machine, I…

I lost her.

Something malfunctioned. A portal opened up. Maybe I shouldn’t have allowed her to be near the computer— I don’t know, but either way, it stole her away. My daughter… the light of my life was swallowed by the portal. She screamed for help, and then…

The portal closed. She was gone.

My daughter was dead, and it was my fault.

I was inconsolable. I promised I’d hang the stars in the sky for her, only to to allow her to be murdered at only seven. In one terrible moment, my entire world came crashing down.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where to go. But then it hit me, I realized.

…My wish granting machine— the same machine that had damned me— it was now my only hope.

If I completed it… if I were to make my dreams come true, then surely I could bring my daughter back to life.

Of course, it couldn’t function as was. I tried to make my wish, and it told me it was ‘impossible.’ But I didn’t give up. I just needed more resources. More time.

Did you know every planet has the power of the stars contained somewhere within it? A miraculous energy… that which my wish granting machine ran on. I harvested this power from my own planet, but it wasn’t enough.

I needed more.

I traveled to other planets, taking this power by force, if necessary. I constructed a grand spaceship, and my machine and I conquered.

But the grief in my heart hadn’t eased. I was beginning to feel delirious. I started suffering from severe health complications. I well and truly thought I was going to die. But I couldn’t allow that to happen before I saw my daughter again, and so I made another decision.

…The machine. I’d use its powers to transcend my mortal flesh. I replaced my faulty heart with a cybernetic one. My ailing limbs with machinery, and my weeping eyes with LEDs. That way, I would never die. My daughter wouldn’t recognize me upon her return, but that was okay.

It was all for her.

Slowly, I began to lose it, though. Something terrible was happening to me. I was more standoffish… edgy and angry, and even worse, my memory began to go. I began to forget things that were important to me.

…Even my daughter’s face.

I think, in some way, I was aware of it. I was aware it was that accursed machine. It was eating away at my brain every time I used it. But it didn’t matter. I still had to save her. And so I surrendered myself— gave my mind up, all in a desperate bid to MAYBE find a way to bring her home before I lost myself entirely.

I did not. I forgot my daughter— my precious child— the one who this was all for, and my priorities shifted.

Prosperity. That’s what I realized I wanted. Prosperity. For myself and the people cared about. But people were far too foolish to attain prosperity on their own. If I wanted prosperity to be treated with respect, then I would have to take it for myself. No-one else understood the correct way to live.

We invaded more planets— me and my precious machine. We did so with even more force. We stole their natural resources for ourselves, and as for the people who lived there…?

We improved them. We gave them the same upgrades I’d been given. It was the only way to live an efficient life, and so even if they didn’t want to, we mechanized them. We mechanized entire planets, spreading our agenda of prosperity all across the universe, and becoming incomprehensibly rich in the process.

It was… maybe eleven years into this when I met a peculiar person. She was young— couldn’t have been older than 18. She begged me for a job— said that she NEEDED to work for my company.

She had no credentials, but I felt… drawn to her, anyways. Her diligent demeanor and her strange sad eyes. I offered her a position as my secretary, and she agreed.

She, like everyone else, was mechanized, and she begun work at my company.

We didn’t always get along… me and this person, who I’ll call ‘S.’ I’d shout at her. I wasn’t an easy boss. I was mean-spirited and demanding. But even so, I was still kinder to her than I was to others, I think. She brought me a certain sense of peace.

…On quiet days, she’d sing me songs.

I trusted S, or at least as much as I could trust anyone. And so one day, when it came to us mechanizing a particularly important planet, I put her in charge of the operation. She’d shown she was competent, and I trusted her to do what needed to be done.

…She failed. Spectacularly. At every step of the operation, she messed it up. A rebel from that planet resisted our company’s takeover— destroying our spaceship and eventually making his way to my headquarters. S tried to stop him, but failed time and time again.

He waltzed right into my office.

She tried, one last time, to seize him… to make up for her mistakes and make me proud, but she was unable. He was too strong. He outright humiliated her.

I was… enraged. I’d trusted S with so much, and she’d let me down. I terminated her from her position right then and there— even though she begged me for mercy— even though she said she needed ‘just one more chance.’

I didn’t listen. I never listened to S.

I should have.

(I’m sorry. I’m so, SO sorry.)

I, too, was beaten by the rebel. But I had one last trick up my sleeve. I attempted to connect with the computer— my greatest accomplishment and my last hope. And S…

She stole it. That which I was using to sync with the computer, right as it was attached to my brain.

All at once, two things happened.

First of all, I lost control. I could feel the computer’s presence creeping up on me. I knew soon I’d be dead— TRULY dead as it reformatted me. S had killed me, whether she meant to or not.

But second of all…

For just a brief moment, I remembered. I remembered EVERYTHING.

And as I stared at S, dying… completely unable to move, I came to a horrible realization.

I knew her. Even looking at me with such hateful eyes. Even having changed her beyond recognition

I had met S before, a very, very long time ago. I’d forgotten it, but she was the one I did all of this for.

…She was my daughter. She’d been by my side all this time, and she’d murdered me.

The last thing I was able to process was just how angry she looked. Just how scared and small. She… well and truly despised me.

And really, I can’t blame her.

I’m in a better place now. My spirit was almost destroyed entirely by that which took everything else from me, but even a wish granting computer can’t defeat Death. Eventually, painstakingly, my soul was knit back together.

But I am not at peace. I am anything but. I can’t get her expression out of my mind… just how much she resented me.

Now, I know the full story. My daughter never died. Instead, she spent 11 horrible years trapped in a nightmare dimension. My computer could not bring her back because she was not gone… not truly. She was fighting for her life.

Eventually, she returned to me. She became the person I knew as ‘S.’ But by then, I had already forgotten her, and she was inconsolable. She vowed she’d find a way to save me… to ‘wake me up’ and have me remember.

She tried. She really, really tried. But I was beyond saving. And I guess when I tried to fire her… something snapped. Perhaps she thought maybe— just maybe if she were to get rid of the computer, she could change fate.

…She did not. I am gone now, and her efforts were all for naught.

I know, realistically, I am the bad guy in this story. I committed countless atrocities in the name of seeking salvation. I conquered planets. I mechanized strangers. I even mechanized she who was most dear to me.

But I didn’t mean to… I never meant to—

I just wanted to see her. One last time. I knew the fate it would condemn me to, but I did not care. Was that really so selfish? All we wanted was to rescue one another, and in doing so, we damned ourselves.

…AITA? For trying to save my daughter, and in doing so, perhaps condemning her to the worst fate of all?

[ricegobbler]

OH MY GOODNESS. A TFP HEADCANON/SCENARIO WRITER WHO HAS REQUESTS OPEN. Our nature is clearing. Runs around happily

Can i request the bots accidentally finding a cybertronian sparkling baby (just. laying somewhere. don't question it) with no parents and deciding to keep it, then asking the kids, June and Fowler to take care of it while they're away <3 and learn their traditions and anatomy and stuff

AUTOBOTS FINDING CYBERTRONIAN SPARKLING!!

OMGOMGOMG I LOVE YOUR ENERGY FIRST OF ALL. IM HERE TO HELP CURE THE TFP WRITER COMMUNITY!!!! SECOND, I LOVE THIS REQUEST!!!

ALSO, SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG TO DO, IVE BEEN TRAVELIKG FOR FAMILY EVENTS BUT IM BACKKKK!!!

ANYWAYS ENJOY!!!!!

——————————————————————-

It was a normal day in the base, everyone was minding their own business until Raf, Miko, and Jack was heard in the halls of the base.

All the bots ran to the three kids with weapons and their blasters ready to hurt whoever or whatever was making the three yell. “WHAT HAPPENED.” Yelled bulkhead the second the bots arrived, “ITS A BABY!!!” Miko yelled with joy. The bots all lowered their weapons and eyed each other in confusion. “How did a sparkling get here?” Arcee asked, looking up at Optimus who just had a confused serious face on. “I am not sure where they came from, but we must check it out in case of any injuries first.” Said Optimus, he then looked at ratchet and ratchet groaned “alright..”

Later, ratchet finished up checking the sparkling and came back with good news. “Good news is she’s in perfect health, and-“ he was then cut off by Miko, “ITS A GIRL?? YES!” Ratchet grumbled. “is there any bad news??” Smokescreen asked, “she’s a grower. Which means she’ll grow up quick and big.” Jack whispered to himself “did he just call her fat..”

A couple days later, the sparkling would just be taken care of the humans lost of the time when the others would go on missions. Sometimes she’d be with ratchet because he’s always at base. He would yell at her though when she’d touch something she wasn’t supposed to touch. Ending up with her crying because she’s js a baby☹️ Ratchet wouldn’t know what to do but he would just try making her sleep to calm her down and say sorry. He’d sound like he didn’t mean it, but he really did.

When the sparkling would be with Jack, Raf, and Miko they would basically show her human stuff. Miko would introduce her to music, Jack would introduce her to games, and Raf would just introduce her to lil inventions he made. The longer they’d watch her the more they learned about her, they found out from Ratchet that she wasn’t exactly born like how a human baby was. They are kept in statis pods until they are received a spark from the matrix. Once Miko asked Ratchet how they were made, he had no answer. And raf asked how baby humans were made, no one answered at all.

Sometimes the sparkling is watched by June and Fowler as well. And when she is, June is in mother mode. Even tho most of the time she is- Fowler would just be there. Not knowing what to do- he would just be working most of the time but when he has time he’d try talking to the sparkling and teach her some stuff. June would just take care of her most, feed her, comfort, make her sleep, literally anything a baby needs:D

——————————————————————————

Sorry if this is bad!! I was also rushing this😓😓

Hoped you enjoyed this tho!! Tysm for requesting

Requests are still closed bc I’m working on old requests! Pls be patient and kind<33

I js realized I didn’t add wheeljack or ultra Magnus. Oops I’m sorry wheeljack n Magnus lovers😭

[basilone]

Fandom: Masters of the Air Written for: @blind-dates-fest as my second 2024 entry! Introducing: Lucy Jones

Bubbles can’t fly like this.

It’s the first thing that pushes past the loop of flying today up in the sky today flying today that has been rampaging through his head since they sent for him. Harry needs to take only one look at Bubbles – miserable, shivering, looking pale and peaky – to know that his friend’s grounded by circumstances beyond his control. It’s a fact of life that Bubbles would be up there no problem if his stomach allowed for it, just as it is a fact that he’s huddled beneath a blanket looking mightily sorry for himself right now.

He pays Bubbles the same glowing compliment the man always pays him – you look like shit – and is rewarded for it with a supply hand-off and the worst news Harry’s heard all week.

“We’re leading the wing today.”

Harry’s somewhat proud of himself for not dropping any of his supplies. Even prouder of the fact that his voice doesn’t quite squeak, really, when he tells Bubbles he can’t just lead a wing. They can’t let him do that. They can’t just stick him up there and make that happen. Aren’t there rules to this sort of thing?

But Bubbles is talking already – talking mission, talking fact – and Harry’s got no choice but to try and commit it all to memory. He’s creating a visual in his head that he hopes Bubbles stored on paper in that hand-off somewhere. A map, a direction, anything beyond the vague sense of foreboding that resides in his gut and the near-gibberish that’s running its course in the back of his mind. Leading the wing. Leading the goddamn wing.

“Great Yarmouth,” he confirms once Bubbles finishes up. Harry feels as sick as Bubbles looks – all queasy inside – but he nods to make Bubbles feel better about handing off a bombing run like that. “Yeah.”

“Don’t be nervous.”

“And don’t stand so close to your buddy,” pipes up a new, rather upbeat voice somewhere to his left. “Unless you wanna get sick on the plane.”

The first thing Harry sees when he looks in the voice’s direction is a raised eyebrow that could rival his mother’s. The second thing he sees is a white uniform, pristine except for some faded pink stains at the sleeve cuffs, and dark hair pulled into a tight knot. Her face is passably familiar – dark eyes, button nose, little dimple in her chin – but Harry will be damned if he can remember a name to go with that.

“Nobody’s getting sick on the plane, Lu!” shouts Major Egan, clearly knowing the woman a hell of a lot better than Harry does. “Scout’s honor!”

“Boy, you’d better pray that’s true,” mutters the woman – Lu – loud enough for Harry to make out. “Don’t know what the hell you were thinking letting him on the damn plane in the first place. Sick as a dog and all. If this is a virus, John”– she remarks, now raising her voice for Major Egan to hear –“you are gonna regret that take-off like no tomorrow!”

“Hey, if we all get sick, can we be in your club?”

Harry decides he rather likes Lu when she heaves a deep sigh and stalks over to the jeep Bubbles is seated on. She is thoroughly ignoring the major, who’s standing behind her with his arms wide and looking almost as quizzical as Meatball does when DeMarco’s hiding his treats again. Lu slings her bag into the back of the jeep before stepping closer to Bubbles.

“When I drive you,” she says without preamble, “you lean backward as far as you can go. Tilt your head back and breathe. I’ll not have you sick up in my baby, all right?” She pats the jeep’s side almost lovingly. “Any move the jeep makes, you lean the other way. Breathe deep.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Does that help?” asks Harry, curious despite himself. “The breathing?”

“Eh, fifty fifty,” she says, wobbling her hand back and forth uncertainly. “Sure doesn’t hurt, though! Little trick one of the airsick girls taught us. She’s in ops now, but we owe her for that one.” Lu’s hand disappears into one of her pockets. “Got something else that might… Yeah… Hang on.”

“Lu, the club?” asks Egan again, coming to stand beside Harry. “Are we in or not?”

“Which club?”

“Y-Yeah,” shivers Bubbles, “what club?”

“No, John, you won’t be in my Lucy’s Losers club,” she remarks patiently as she pulls her hand out of her pocket to proudly show off a small bottle. “You’ll be chewing on this. Ginger. Keeps you from sicking up in your plane. Keeps whatever he’s got”– she nods at an increasingly morose-looking Bubbles –“at bay, too.” A pause. A frown. “I hope.”

“It’s probably just food poisoning…”

“That is in no way the reassurance you probably intended for it to be,” says Lu, frowning even more deeply at Bubbles as she holds the bottle out to them. “You’ve all been eating the same meals, for crying out loud. You, what’s your name?”

Harry blinks at her. “Me? It’s, uh, Harry. Harry Crosby. Ma’am.”

“Okay, Harry, you take the bottle. John’s going to be popping these like candy if left unsupervised, so I am entrusting you with it.” Her frown vanishes into a bright flash of a smile as Harry takes the bottle from her outstretched hand. He smiles back a little tremulously, not daring to hope that she’s just handed him his actual salvation. “There’s a good man. You hold on tight to that, okay?”

“Hold on to this, too,” says Bubbles, shoving something else into Harry’s increasingly full hands. It’s small, round, and entirely too fragile for Harry to be holding. He swallows as Bubbles clarifies. “Lucky snow globe.”

“Thanks?”

“Lu, if we still get sick despite the ginger and the breathing,” says Egan, clearly not feeling the same slight glimmer of hope that’s taken firm root in Harry’s belly despite his best efforts to remain calm, “I’m going to rename my plane.”

“You do that.”

“I’ll name it Lucy’s Losers. Can just see it now. Nice lettering on the side. Splash of color.”

“You’re forgetting I have friends in high places.”

“Your twin might disown you at last, though,” he counters, smiling. “Can just hear her now. Unbecoming of the Dorrance-Jones name and all that.”

“That’s not new,” snorts Lu, “but my boot up your ass is going to feel real new if you dare put my name on the side of a fortress, John Clarence Egan.”

“You’re not wearing boots, so I’ll be safe.”

“You’re not getting sick,” she warns, smiling back, “so the point is moot. Now go on, off with you. You’ve got a flight to catch, don’t ya?”

“Nurse’s orders,” grins Egan as he strides off toward their plane without so much as a farewell word for Lu and Bubbles beyond a wink. “You ever argue with those?”

“Can’t say I have, sir,” says Harry, trying to keep up while juggling multiple items in his hands. “Doesn’t seem smart to. Like arguing with your wife.” He hasn’t argued with Jean except for that one time she was stressing out over napkin placement at their wedding. Still, the point stands. “They know what’s good for us.” He holds the bottle up to the light. Squints at the pieces of ginger inside. “Worth a try?”

“I don’t get sick easily, but pass it around the plane. Just in case she’s right. It’s a bit of a ride to Norway.”

I’m gonna need all the help I can get. Harry nods. Clutches the bottle a little tighter. Leading the wing. Norway. He takes a deep breath. Then another. Follows Egan up into the fortress and prays Lucy Dorrance-Jones knows her way around queasy stomachs.

It can’t get worse, surely?

[anamelessfool]

Oh look! More Lore! Some thoughts about the relationship between Sister and Papa Nihil. All from my Scenes From the Void AU. I hope this motivates me to finish the next chapter of the major work. Gonna be a doozy!

Sister

1962 and a year into Sister's reign as Mother Imperator. Sister was not the first choice, and every day of her reign so far she is reminded of this. Her personal assistant, Rebecca, is mercifully distracted by her new son whose existence cancelled Rebecca's dream of becoming Mother Imperator. Perhaps Rebecca will put her energy elsewhere, in the end. Papa Emeritus Petruchio is an asshole and is constantly clamoring to return to Italy. He wants to find his replacement there and live out the rest of his days drinking and whoring in a cushy archbishop position and every moment that Sister struggles with her poor grasp of the Italian language he crawls closer to death. The phone has been ringing off the hook daily, pleas from the old headquarters in Milan to return the Seat of the Church to its rightful home at last. Even though the structure has barely recovered from the damage of two world wars.

Rebecca suggests a tour of Italy, to drum up funds for the final repairs, and Sister agrees. Anything to get them off her case. But in Italy who gives a shit about an elderly, stiff opera singer? They need a different angle. A force of personality that would knock down doors and bring the money and acolytes rolling in. Something more modern, more exciting, more subversive, more…Satanic, of course.

“Rock music?” Rebecca suggests. Of course suggesting her own little project and father of her child Brother Zero from the New York City Church. Rebecca and Archbishop Camino of NYC had been gunning for this unknown, this Brother Zero for years and Sister doesn't understand it. He seemed at best unmanageable and at worst dull-witted. He moved to the seat of power with a partner and son. An entire family who had since quit the Church altogether due to this Zero’s proclivities for sleeping around. He was planted here clearly to be underfoot. But all of Rebecca’s praise and machinations and rebranding of the bandy-legged wanderer falls flat in Sister’s eyes. He looks more like a drooping flower than the powerhouse of charisma she needs to save face. Sister knew the church would fracture after the old Mother’s death, and so, fine, she agrees. Rebecca has the funds and Camino the influence and negotiating skills. She needs their favor. And so the Americans pit themselves against the Italians.

With some hapless Zero stuck in the middle.

Nihil

Nance is gone. Primo is gone. But Nihil for a time remains cheerful, upbeat. Dreams require sacrifice, he says. Nance has a dream, he has his own. And they now need to part to pursue it alone.

Or so he tells himself.

Nihil, his name is Nihil now. Rebecca decided that if he was going to be Papa Emeritus he needed to start upping his image. Leaning into sophistication. So Nihil it is. Easy come easy go. He settles into his new path, into his new life with the steely Rebecca and son number two. He didn't realize how needy a baby was, and he has fuzzy but happy memories of Primo at this age. He doesn't realize that his late nights performing in Camino's band meant that he never really spent this much time with Primo compared to Secondo. In fact he spends more time with Secondo than Rebecca does due to Rebecca’s intense hours navigating the power struggles within the Church. He didn't realize how much babies cry, but with enough coaxing and mugging he can get some giggly Sibling to watch the child for a few hours while he wanders the quiet wilderness of the Ministry grounds. Sit on a ledge somewhere and light a joint and let the thick smoke invade his mind. He loved getting high and stupid with Nance. Creating nonsensical poems and having drifting half-baked conversations. Making love for hours and feeling every moment of connection.

Rebecca frowns on any intoxication at all. She is beautiful and intelligent but she is icy. Like an expensive collectible on a shelf. But she believed in him, and of course those little words hold sway over him. And one thing led to another and now he's sneaking around alone getting high in an unfamiliar forest.

A feeling comes over him, a new one that he has never experienced before in his life.

Regret.

Regret so constant, so pervasive that he loses sleep. Feelings used to come and go within him, and despite the hardship of his life he had a general air of happiness and satisfaction. But this regret never leaves. It is his constant companion, and no substance in the world no matter how mind-expanding or euphoric has yet to exorcise the ghost of his regrets from his shoulder. And so he looks on his own new family of one unsmiling infant and one beautiful but cold partner and seethes.

He doesn't understand why he hurts people. He doesn't understand why his own heart hurts when he hurts people, and so therefore he runs to the next person he sees, trying to receive comfort from them. It's easy to get into another's good graces. Be a listening ear, be an enthusiastic supporter. Joke and smile and laugh. It happens every time, and in time (every time) they are passing a joint or a bottle between them. Every time they lean close and drown themselves in touches, in kisses. Every time they strip bare and link bodies and try to forget.

And every time he breaks another heart.

Maybe it really is all or nothing.

But it gets easier for him, as the years go on. His heart is nothing but a fine powder of glass after Nance left with Primo. Nothing but a pile of sand to blow away with the wind. He always knew he was a disappointment, a Nothing from the moment he was born. His own father told him that, and in some respects it was a comfort to fall into that destiny.

When the new Mother Imperator chooses him to be a candidate for Papa Emeritus at last, he doesn't notice the outrage from the Church. His own supposed Mentor to be, the great opera singer Papa Emeritus Petruchio, argues for weeks with Sister behind closed doors. But no big deal. The Void itself has chosen him, his new partner Rebecca is advocating for him (perhaps as a consolation prize for missing out on the Mother Imperator title herself) and in the end no mortal can question the Will of the Void. Not even if that choice is a rock musician, or even worse, another American.

The woman with everything and the man with nothing, of course they are drawn together. It is a law of the universe. Before the Elevation ceremony, before the trial of pain he must endure he takes the new Mother Imperator by the hands. “I believe in you,” he says. She looks taken back, almost angry, but for an instant he sees a moment of soft relief in her eyes. At least one person believes in her. A person who would be her first construct of the Void, who would offer up his own left eye to be sliced by her ritual knife. Who would take the boiling essence of the Void into his body to corrupt his blood and tie his soul to her for all eternity. At least that person believes.

What more does she need?

Domestic Fic about Nance, Camino & Nihil

Domestic Fic about Nance and Primo post Ministry exodus

Domestic Fic about Rebecca, Secondo, Nihil & Terzo

Scenes fromt the Void Ghost/Ministry AU

Divider by @gothdaddyissues

[justallihere]

aNOTHER play by play of my thoughts <3

I kid you not the entire time I was reading this the audio of Klaus saying "MOMMY ISSUES" was playing in my head

Lilith really said, "I'm going to be useful when I come to my kids by brining riders AND insert myself into the military lol"

OMG OMG DEVERA AND FELIX!!!!!

I'm assuming their mother is a particularly touchy subject between Mira and Vi (i lowkey felt uncomfortable reading their conversation in a good way but I also wanted to diffuse the situation between the two 💀 LOL) Mira needs a goddamn award. The mental gymnastics of trying to love/defend her mom but also understanding Vi's own personal feelings and her position as queen is rough

Mira telling Vi she's the favorite (likely bc she's the baby bc let's be for real here lol) Vi thinking its Brennan makes my heart break for Mira because what about her???? (No slight against Vi or B but my heart aches for Mira too, as the eldest daughter). All of them need a goddamn hug

This line HIT , when did this become a therapy session LMAO

“It’s okay if it’s not enough, and it’s also okay if you let it be enough. If you try, too,” she added pointedly, “instead of being stubborn about it. She left the country she’s dedicated her entire life to because of you.” 

Not Mira begrudgingly accepting Xaden and knowing that he's antsy as fuck w/o Vi

“Go home to your insufferable husband,” she said. “You probably stressed him out.” 

The dragons finally fucked and X and Vi had to do something about it. The spicy scene was 10/10!!!! I have so much respect for ppl who write smut well bc I can't do it LOL but what i really appreciated was the attention to detail of X getting her conduit for her so that she doesn't burn down the kingdom 💀. My exact thoughts were "wait is her mom going to know their fucking bc of the lightening" but then I didn't even need to think about that bc you HAD IT COVERED LOL

Lilith is so complex and I love her for it. I bet the room was frigid when Brennan and Lilth spoke.

Naolin was mentioned and I am SOBBING. I hope RY expands on him but idk if it will make it to canon tbh

Glad this was sorted out bc I know this was a particular fan theory that was RAMPANT. I never particularly agreed w it

“Dead?” Lilith repeated.  “The storm the day I crossed the parapet—” “I had nothing to do with that,” she interrupted. 

I am terrified and excited for what is to come Alli 😭. Again another lovely chapter that I thoroughly enjoyed from start to finish

So many mommy issues. All the mommy issues.

One thing about Lilith is that she has a purpose, and that purpose is protecting her kids, and because she's emotionally distant she'll just do things for them instead of with them.

I'm obsessed with Felix. He's such a fun character, just so much personality even though we see next to nothing of him in canon. Same with Devera! They feel the same to me in a lot ways I think.

Lilith is a touchy subject among all the Sorrengail children for sure, but definitely with Mira and Vi because Mira has spent so long trying to keep the peace between the two of them. And (in this world) Mira has been there for Violet in a maternal role a bit, so she sees the choices Lilith makes differently than Vi does and relates to them more, where Violet just sees that it's not what she needs from her mom.

This became a therapy session...somewhere around chapter 10, probably.

Idk what it is but I just love a dragon lust-fueled sex moment. Hits different, you know?

I can't believe I wrote a positive thing about Brennan Sorrengail 🤮 never happening again. Naolin is still just so intriguing though, I also hope we get to hear more about him in canon (I don't want him to be venin, I want him to be dead, to be clear).

I never particularly bought into the "Lilith tried to kill Violet on the parapet" thing either, especially once we learned about the deal she'd made with Xaden. She just loves Violet so much.

I, too, am excited and terrified for what's to come! Mostly excited!

[scullysexual]

You're Never Just Anything To Me (11)

@today-in-fic | ao3 | Prev. Chapter

A look into Mulder and Scully’s relationship starting from Millennium going all the way up to Requiem.

XI. Theef.

A baby grows inside of her. She touches her still flat stomach and can feel its life force beneath the skin.

“We should move,” says Scully. Her mind has wandered again, thinking of scenarios where they are successful. Her latest appointment with Dr Parenti had brought her more hope that this IVF route could work.

“We should move in together, get a house.”

She feels Mulder freeze beneath her.

“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice laced with uncertainty. The sound of it tugs her chest and Scully sits up.

“Of course. Are you okay with that?”

A massive grin breaks out across his face. “Of course I am, Scully. I’d love to move in with you.”

Her own smile breaks through. “Not far, though. Somewhere close to my mother and work so you don’t have to waste unnecessary time commuting in.”

“What about you?” he asks.

His face has fallen slightly and this, Scully had spent the past couple of weeks thinking about.

“I think I’d go back to teaching.”

Mulder nods but his mood has shifted slightly. He seems disappointed. He looks away.

“Hey,” Scully says, her hand on his face, bringing his attention back to her. “I’ll still be there to argue against your ridiculous theories.” It restores the smile on his face. “And you’ll see me at home.” Home. Their home.“And then you won’t get sick of seeing me.”

“I never get sick of seeing you.”

They spend the rest of the night talking about it, all properly for the first time. Talking about it earlier felt taboo, like they were going to jinx something (not that Scully believes in jinxes or anything of the kind) but this was something she didn’t want to tempt. Now, she is so sure she has nothing to worry about. For the first time in a long time there is excitement, there is hope, something to look forward to.

…

It feels like the flooring of the hospital has given out beneath her.

The words take a moment to process fully and when they do, they hit her like a ton of bricks.

I’m sorry, Dana. There was no success this time.

No success.

There is no baby. There is nothing growing inside her. No baby to hold or nurture later on, nothing to tether her and Mulder together. There will be no house.

Scully wails. Folds in on herself on the floor of the hospital and wails so loud she disturbs the other patients. Dr Parenti stands there looking on, detached and emotionless, not even human.

…

Mulder spins the ring between his fingers.

He only got here an hour ago but it felt like he had been waiting a lifetime.

The front door clicks and Mulder jumps, hastily shoving the ring into the pocket of his jeans. Scully emerges and instantly Mulder knows something is off. His heart beats wildly in his chest, his stomach shrouded in anxiety.

“It didn’t take, did it?”

She shakes her head and crumples before him. Mulder can’t tell what hurts him more- the knowledge that it didn’t work or the way she falls apart in ways he’s never witnessed before.

He pulls her into his arms and she goes with no struggle, completely engulfing her in his embrace. He is crying, too. Before now, he never realised just how much he wanted it and how much he wanted to be the one to give it to her. He would give her the entire world, wrap it up in a little bow if she asked, but he can’t even give her something as simple as this.

“There has to be other ways,” he says, immediately searching for a solution. “Adoption or surrogacy, or…something.”

But Scully shakes her head. “There’s nothing. That was my last and only chance.”

He doesn’t want to believe that this is the end.

“But adoption, Scully.” He thinks about all the kids they’ve encountered on their cases, parentless the majority of them there, how they would attach themselves to Scully (and even sometimes himself) longing for a parent to care for them. “So many kids who need love and you can give it to them, they can become as much as ours as any biological—”

She shakes her head, pulling away from him, tear-stained cheeks and red-eyes. She looks exhausted. She looks hopeless.

“They didn’t even let me adopt my own child. They would never let me near somebody else’s.”

“But that was different. It’s the two of us now, you won’t be a single mother—”

“Mulder, stop.” He does stop, he comes to a sudden halt. “I don’t want to hope anymore. All it does is make you hurt.”

She pulls away from him completely then, floating away towards her bedroom. Mulder stands, feeling robbed of everything, watching the door to her bedroom close gently behind her.

…

Her period arrives and it paralyses her.

It’s flow unpredictable every time, this time she bleeds through and stains her sheets. She can do nothing but watch as Mulder changes the sheets at 2am, red-eyed and groggy.

Scully changes in the bathroom, her abdomen cramping painfully. She tries to dissociate from it all, opening the cabinet and pulling out the packet of paracetamol as if it wasn’t her doing it.

There’s a rap against the door.

“The bed is ready, Scully.”

She takes one pill and then the others. She thinks about taking a third, a fourth, a fifth, taking the entire packet until the pain all goes, until she feels something else.

There’s another rap.

“You okay in there, Scully?”

She exits the bathroom only having consumed two pills. She holds a hot water bottle in her arms, filled and warm, and looks at Mulder sitting in her bed.

“You might as well go Mulder,” she says as she climbs in. She keeps her back to him, her distance from him and seeks the hot water bottle out for comfort instead. “Find somebody else who can give you whatever you want. I’m broken.”

His arms fall around her and as much as she wants to pull away her body is a traitor and nestles into him instead.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he says. “You’re what I want.”

She sinks further against him and his lips press kisses along her shoulder and neck. She’s so tired, the energy completely drained from her that she closes her eyes, begins to drift off…

“Marry me.”

She thinks she made it up.

She startles awake.

“What?” Her body turns towards him.

“Marry me.” Even in the darkness she can see his pleading eyes. “Please.”

Her mind is full but she can’t form her thoughts to make sense.

“I…”

She watches as he recedes into himself.

“It was stupid, just ignore it,” Mulder dismisses.

But she can’t, he has said it now.

“One day,” she promises and Mulder nods.

His hands join hers at her stomach, pressing the hot water bottle into her skin, holding it like the baby they can never have.

“Never give up on a miracle,” he whispers into her ear.

Scully closes her eyes, a thief steals their baby.

[trickstarbrave]

i havent drawn her yet but fine. i made a new nerevarine

artemisia septim, bastard princess of uriel conceived around the time just before jagar tharn ended up imprisoning uriel in a pocked dimension of oblivion (events of arena). uriel didn't really want her, but given she wasn't born to a random maid, he agreed to raise her but she's pretty much locked up in her wing of the imperial palace with only a nanny and tutors. she never knew her mother, just that she was a noblewoman who agreed to stay silent if he took responsibility.

after jagar tharn was defeated uriel vii focused more efforts on legitimate heirs and clearing out any potential spies. her nanny is killed on suspicion of being a spy who aided jagar tharn along with several of her maids. artemisia is only 11-12. she begins to hate him.

because she's an elf she's still young by the events of morrowind, at least as far as elves age. it makes her feel even more alienated in the imperial palace. she only ever speaks to her siblings and father in formal settings, otherwise they rarely acknowledge her. she studies magic but she knows uriel vii is a very. paranoid person for a good chunk of her life following his imprisonment. time breaking after the warp in the west probably did not help anyone. elves as i write them age normally until around the 20's after which it DRAMATICALLY slows down, but everyone expects her to be a fully mature woman who's nearly 40 (maybe she's younger idk i might set her story a few years before the official game. or maybe later. we'll see) bc theyre all imperials. she's like. baby to most elves though.

she's sent on a diplomatic mission to morrowind for politics. she's just excited to fucking leave the imperial city and GO SOMEWHERE. she finds the palace stiffing and filled with horrible memories. she wants to see something new, and she always read about morrowind. to her its a dream come true to finally get to see it in person and she's so excited she can hardly sleep.

of course. uriel sent her to morrowind because he knew the political tensions there were too high to send one of his legitimate heirs. he's hoping she doesn't die but also he needs an ambassador and wants to make a good impression. if she is attacked and killed though he intends to use it to put morrowind more heavily under his thumb. he also, given he has some prophetic abilities, has a good feeling about sending her there.

she's super excited at first even though things are. tense. they were told uriel had a dunmer daughter but she doesn't look like a dunmer at all. even being half. they've seen half-imperial half-dunmer children and she doesn't look like a dunmer even remotely. she has pointed ears but her skin has a golden hue and her hair is stark white and her eyes are red. she explains she was born with a condition that lead to only patches of grey skin that faded as she got older but that her mother was definitely a dunmer. they question if she actually had an affair with an altmer and not the emperor behind her back but in a way she can still hear, but dismiss it as the empire playing tricks on them to make them look stupid. she isn't half dunmer. the emperor must think theyre stupid and is passing off his altmer born bastard as a dark elf like they can't tell she doesn't have grey skin. (nerevar was rly coming through on this one. azura had to much fun in the create a sim i think)

however some sixth house members strike. orvas dren tipped them off that a septim would be coming for a diplomacy meeting and their plan was to kidnap her, hold her hostage, make her a dreamer, and then send her back to the imperial palace with plenty of ash statues.

caius ends up rescuing her and taking her back to hide in his house. she's freaking out bc what the fuck there's a freaky ass cult in morrowind?????????? were they gonna kill her?????? did the emperor know????????? and now she's stranded in the country until caius can figure out a way to smuggle her out without someone knowing but he suspects there might be sixth house infiltrators in nobility who would catch them. they can't risk him just plopping her in a boat while they also hide in wait there and caius in good conscious can't let her die when uriel tasked him with protecting her by any means. so instead he gives her a slight haircut, some commoner clothing, and tells her they're gonna give her a fake identity

she's like. "great im stuck in a fucking skooma den on this fucked up island and theres ash storms here and weird cultists and im miserable and i almost died and--"

"here's 200 gold, buy some other gear, say you're a half altmer mage coming here to study, join the mages guild and try not to get yourself killed. i have a few contacts in the guild i told to keep an eye out for you and keep you safe. do NOT do anything reckless. do you understand."

artemisia realizing that she gets to join the mages guild and do whatever she wants now: