#i need to wake up in three hours anyways so who cares

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I request Catnap who basically adopted a child!reader who is anyways sleepy and lazy. and has a case of not remembering a lot of things, like dementia

Like through the hour of joy...After all the Toys killed the workers. Catnap finds the reader, who is sleeping then wakes up and the reader forgets their own parents(The readers parents were cold scientists that worked at Poppy Playtime and never cared about them, then got killed through the hour of joy)

Sooooooo...Catnap just kinda takes care of the reader and has a slight soft spot for them. And the reader THINKS that Catnap is their parent and anyways clings to him

During the Hour of Joy, Catnap remained on the prowl for any potential survivors of the massacre within Playcare, flinging one man's body into the stairs and cutting his cries for mercy short.

All was quiet, save for the faint screams of the other workers/visitors in other part of the facility who were being mauled to death.

But he let the rest of the toys do their work.

He felt cleansed. The Prototype willed this rebellion. Willed him to finally kill his tormentors.

The "hour" went on for so much longer--considering that he utilized his red smoke to make the fleeing humans hallucinate and freak out at things that didn't exist (some even attacking each other).

Once it was all done, Catnap went back into Home Sweet Home to discover a child who (somehow) slept through the slaughter.

That was you, one of the orphans who was in the program for a long, long time.

You were deemed "ineligible" for experimentation after getting the lowest scores on all three tests at the Game Station.

That's because you struggled with memory, socialization, and endurance. You tend to forget a lot of things (ie faces) and spent most of your days sleeping instead of playing or learning....and no counselor has been able to figure out why.

Your parents--who were scientists at Playtime Co. that preferred studying you over nurturing you--chalked it up to over-exposure to the red smoke (which hasn't been proven true, but they needed to put something down on paper).

Regardless, they've kept their distance from you and slated you for adoption, thinking you'll be picked up by a different parent eventually.

Unfortunately for them...Catnap knows that they're using the orphanage as an "excuse" to get rid of you and gives them a brutal demise.

They had some nerve crying out for you and begging him to spare your life.

After winding down from his bloodlust, he discovers you sound asleep on one of the bunk beds inside HSH, apparently not hearing a single thing.

Then you wake up and see this giant emaciated purple cat standing over you, claws and mouth stained in fresh human blood...

Yet you don't scream or look afraid, nor do you ask where your parents are.

Instead you look at him and apologize for oversleeping, acting as though he was your parent.

It confuses him, so he brings their corpses to you (like a cat gifting their owner a dead bird), thinking you'd understand and be horrified..

But you don't recognize them at all. You don't remember their neglect and the trauma it gave you.

All you remember was Catnap.

Ultimately, he spares you--but NOT bc your parents feebly begged him to when they never gave a single damn about you--and does his best to keep you safe given the circumstances.

He treats you like his kit more or less, making sure you ate and letting you climb on his back for rides (and sometimes he'll hold you in his paws while walking upright).

Any Smiling Critter caught threatening you will be devoured by him (or added to his shrine), so they know not to touch you.

He also forbids Dogday from ever speaking to you, knowing he'll try to drill thoughts of escape and distrust of Catnap into your head.

If he has to go outside Playcare, he'll fight tooth and nail to fend off Huggy and whoever else might think he's parading around a tasty treat.

The Prototype is well-aware of your connection to his "devotee", but doesn't mind it .

Because he knows Theodore is still somewhere in there, trying his best to protect a fellow orphan--one who could've been made into a monster just like him.

[apocalypseornaw]

Not Just Dreams

Sam Winchester x Reader

Or maybe it's not just dreams

NSFW happenings

You hummed along to the radio as you cut up the strawberries you'd gotten at the farmer's market a few days before. The fact that Sam hadn't gone with you was still bothering you but hell the three of you lived together, worked together, all of you were due some time to yourself when needed but no matter how much you tried to ignore it you knew it wasn't just that. Sam had been pulling away from you for weeks and you had no idea why.

You heard footsteps behind you and thought for just a minute it may be Sam but your hope was squashed when Dean's hand slipped around you to snatch a few strawberries out of your bowl "Y/N, you seen Sammy?" You shrugged, trying not to seem like something was bothering you "He barely talks to me these days"

You turned to face him and saw the little wrinkle that popped up between his eyebrows when he was thinking hard. "You finally noticed that huh?" You let out a sigh, that meant it wasn't just you. Sam was indeed purposely ignoring you. You nodded, eyeing him carefully "You wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would ya?"

He shrugged "No clue sweetheart but I'll try to figure him out. We got a hunt so after you eat, get dressed and we'll hit the road. I'm gonna go wake see if he's still asleep or gone on a run" you nodded, watching Dean walk out before you grabbed your strawberries and a bottle of water and headed to your room.

You were everywhere, your scent surrounding him and the taste of your skin heavy on his tongue. "Sam" the whispered gasp of his name from your lips pushed him further towards that edge. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and your top half was laid back against the counter of the kitchen, breasts on full display for his large hands to tease and grip. How it'd gone from making breakfast to him being buried inside of you he couldn't remember and didn't care. You were perfect to him, every damn inch, every little sound you made was music to his ears. "Fuck Sam, that feels so damn good" you cried, clenching around him.

"Sam!" Dean's deep voice mixed with his hand gripping Sam's shoulder had him jolting awake in the impala. Dean chuckled "Easy tiger. Don't think you wanna wake Y/N up"

Sam followed Dean's eyes to the backseat where you lay, peacefully asleep curled up under Dean's jacket. He nodded slowly,rubbing a hand across his face. "What was that dream about anyways man? You were making some noises"

Sam cut his eyes at his older brother who wore a smirk "Shut up Dean" the answer was Dean's laughter filling the car. You started to stir so Sam punched Dean's arm "You're gonna wake her up!"

Dean held up a hand, his laughter dying down "Sorry but man if you're having sex dreams you need to get laid" Sam rolled his eyes "I'm not having this conversation with you"

Dean shrugged "Fine. Your dream woman at least sounds like shes amazing" Sam's eyes barely flicked back towards your sleeping form but just enough that Dean caught the movement but chose not to say anything, a plan forming in his head as he drove to force the two of you to admit the feelings he knew you both had. "She is" Sam admitted in barely a whisper before laying his head back against the seat again.

The hunt had gone easily enough. A small nest was easily put down with no injuries on any of you, so you counted that as a win. The only thing that was left was to find a hotel to crash for a few hours before heading back home.

Dean pulled into the Golden Dove Inn. You groaned at the name but it looked clean enough. He parked near the office and cut his eyes from Sam to you "I'll be right back" when he disappeared inside Sam turned to look back at you "Your shoulder ok?" You nodded considering this was the most Sam had willingly spoken to you "Yeah. The ibuprofen helped so I know it wasn't anything serious" he nodded "Good"

Before you could say anything else Dean walked back out, carrying keys and a grin. When he climbed in the car he announced "You two can share right? I'm headed to that bar down the road and want the option for a little company"

You remained quiet, waiting for Sam's answer which came with him shooting daggers at his brother with his glare before saying "Yeah. That's fine"

After an awkward dinner of silence and Chinese food Dean headed to the bar so you claimed the first shower.

When you walked out the bathroom Sam walked into it without a word. You had no clue what you'd done to fuck up your friendship with him but it was weighing heavy on your heart. He was your best friend and you missed him. Hell he was more than that in your heart if you were being honest but you'd long since decided being his friend was better than risking losing him by admitting anything but now it seemed you were losing him anyways.

A part of you wanted to stay up, push him for answers as to what was wrong but you knew him too well to think that would work. He had to deal wth whatever was plaguing his mind on his own, you just wish you had some idea as to what part you had played in it.

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

Sam hesitaed when he stepped out the bathroom. A part of him hoped you were still awake but he honestly had no idea any more how to be around you without letting the memories of the dreams drift into his head. He'd had feelings for you for so long but he'd thought they were buried or had hoped for the sake of your friendship.

Instead he was met with the sight of you curled up on your side, hugging a pillow to you and fast asleep. Christ, you were beautiful. It made his heart ache.

He tossed his dirty clothes next to his duffle bag, praying for a dreamless night as he laid across his own bed.

You weren't sure what had woke you up but two things hit you the moment consciousness rushed back to you. One was that the room was hot, the next was Sam was muttering in his sleep.

You kicked the blanket off your legs and called his name, when you got no response you climbed out the bed to walk over to him but froze when you heard your name. Was he dreaming about you?

It felt wrong to listen but you were too curious as to what had gone wrong between the two of you to care. You paused next to his bed and your eyes widened when he rutted his hips against the bed and muttered "Fuck you feel so good" Sam was having a sex dream...about you.

-----------

He started to stir so you practically dove back into your bed hoping he hadn't realized you were fully awake. He sat up slowly and called your name so you acted like you were just waking up "Yeah?" when you sat up to look at him his cheeks were rosy and it took every ounce of self control you had to not glance down at his crotch.

"Is it hot in here?" "Very" you breathed hoping your voice didn't betray your thoughts.

Sam stood out of the bed and walked over to the small unit in the wall. He clicked a few buttons then smacked the side of it, "It's dead"

"Fuck" you growled, watching him turn up the ceiling fan with an apologetic smile. "Bet Dean's air works" you muttered before kicking the blanket completely off the bed, much to Sam's amusement.

He shook his head but grinned "Do you mind if I take my shirt off?" You shook your head "Naw cause you're about to get a strip show Winchester. I can't sleep in the heat"

----------

When he slipped the shirt over his head you found yourself watching the muscles in his arms flex. Damn he was gorgeous. He smoothed his hair back out his face then cut his eyes at you "Feel free to get comfortable. I'll even face the wall if need be"

You shrugged before slipping your t-shirt off considering you'd put a soft sports bra on under it just in case then slipped your shorts off your legs leaving you in the bra and a pair of black panties "You and Dean both have seen me stripped when I've gotten hurt. Hell modesty could kill in this line of work"

-----------

Sam tried to ignore how his cock twitched in the sweatpants he wore or how the comment about Dean seeing you stripped licked up a flame of jealousy in him. Fuck he wouldn't be getting any sleep with you wearing so little.

He took a deep breath then went back to his bed. He'd just laid down when you called his name. He turned to face you and you were mimicking his posture, both of you propping your head up on one arm to face each other "Are you mad at me?" He shook his head "Of course not"

"You barely talk to me anymore. Even now I feel like it's a struggle for you to meet my eyes" "No one could blame me for being distracted with you wearing what you're wearing" he blurted out, the shock on his face mirroring your own "What?"

---------

He groaned and pushed himself to be fully sitting up "We need to talk but can you promise first to not kick my ass?" You nodded, climbing out of your bed and walking towards his "You van tell me anything Sam"

The fact that he'd dreamt of you in a very similar circumstance didn't miss Sam as he stared at you. Your eyes were full of concern and it made his heart ache. He wanted you to feel the same, wanted to make every dream he'd had reality but the fear of losing you was overwhelming. "I've been having dreams about you" he admitted.

"Dreams?" You asked stepping closer and he swallowed hard "Yeah" your heart was beating wildly. Did he feel the same? Did he want you the way you wanted him?

-----------

"Sam, what kind of dreams?" You asked,stopping just shy of the bed to brush his hair back from his eyes. "Y/N we both know what kind of dreams"

You moved your hand down his face, smiling when his eyes fluttered shut for a moment before your fingers caught his chin, making him look at you. When his eyes met yours you saw the uncertainty there mixed with a need you felt in yourself "Sam, do you want to kiss me?"

He swallowed hard "More than anything and I just don't want one night. I want all of you for as long as you'll have me" you felt a smile split your face "Then claim what's already yours Sammy" you whispered and the moment the words left your mouth you saw an instant change in his demeanor. The uncertainty was gone.

"What's mine?" He echoed so you nodded, slowly climbing into the bed to straddle his waist "Claim what's yours" you repeated. The look in his eyes made you clench around nothing. He looked like he wanted to devour you and to say you were willing was the understatement of the century.

He gripped your hips roughly and turned, flipping you so your back was against the bed "Yes ma'am" he spoke against your lips before pulling you into a hungry kiss.

Sam moved from your lips down across your jaw to your neck. You gasped when he bit down on your pulse point then soothed the area with gentle kisses "Lay back baby, let me take my time" he whispered as his lips moved further down. You whimpered when his large hand cupped your breast through the thin bra "Can I take this off?" You nodded "Please"

You leaned up so he could slip it over your head. Once you were bare to him he froze, letting his eyes take in you bare under him "I'm awake, aren't I?" He asked lightly and you laughed, slipping your hand under the waistband of his sweats to grip his hard cock, lazily stroking it "That feel real?" He swallowed hard and nodded "Very" you grinned "Good. Now show me what those dreams were all about"

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

You were on your stomach, pillows under you to angle your hips just right as Sam rutted into you. Every thrust of his hips had you seeing stars as you felt his lips tease your bare shoulders, teeth lightly grazing the most sensitive skin "Fuck Sam. You're so fucking big, feels so damn good." You were barely coherent from the amount of orgasms he'd wrung out of you between his fingers, tongue and now his cock. He growled as he shifted to bury himself even further inside of you with each snap of his hips "Baby, you're so perfecting perfect, taking me so good. My good girl" he pulled your head back to catch your lips in a messy kiss, his hips never faltering their rhythm.

When you snatched away in need of air he chuckled. "You're so fucking gorgeous, all fucked out like this. Might want to keep you in bed, spread out for me" you'd never known Sam was such a dirty talker or that it'd be such a turn on. "Sam please I can't take much more" he kissed your neck gently "One more baby. Give me one more then I'll fill this pretty little pussy up and let you rest"

You whimpered but nodded. He slipped a hand under you and when his fingers found your clit your hips started to move back to meet his thrusts, needing to meet him on that high and ride it together. "You want to come with me huh?" You asked and you nodded "So damn sweet for me" he cooed, pushing your shoudlers down "Play with your clit for me sweetheart"

You slipped your hand under you, teasing your clit while he sat a punishing pace. You would be hoarse tomorrow from screaming his name but you could've cared less. You felt that pleasure building inside of you at the same time his hips started to falter. "Just like that Sam. Oh fuck" you moaned as the pleasure burst.

He buried himself deep inside of you with one final thrust, his release coating the walls of your pussy. He stilled then, hands massaging your shoulders and leaving light kisses "You ok Y/N?" He asked, voice full of worry. You laughed, turning your head to look at him "I think I love you Sam" he laughed lightly "Good because I know I love you"

@kindacher @janineb86

[shookuna]

// HEATWAVE! // T FUSHIGURO

a/n: first post on tha new blog !!! eeee !!! this is dedicated to the lovely mickey @teddybeartoji <3 ty for being my FIRST OFFICIAL MOOT ! MY DAYONE ! take a lil soft!toji fic pls and thank u 🤲

wc: ~ 1k oops

summary: tired grumpy bf!toji is needy and annoying w/o cuddles. cw: nsf(w) ment, plus some tooth-rotting fluff <3

cuddling with toji was becoming a rare occurrence.

it was mid-july and swelteringly hot outside, even in the wee hours of the night. the a/c in your shared apartment was threatening to give out, and the shitty fan toji sloppily assembled did little to improve matters. so, deviating from your usual routine, you and toji fell asleep on opposite sides of the bed.

toji noticed the distance immediately, cracking one eye open to find you not curled into his side, like usual. the sight of you dead to the world, hair messily splayed across the pillow was enough to make his heart flutter. but even still, a frown tugged at the corner of his lips.

because goddammit, you did not get him used to this "cuddling" shit just to bail on him now.

you and toji met months ago at the dawn of fall, when the days were getting shorter and the nights were growing colder. your relationship was initially a fateful coincidence, a grocery store meet-cute that was as romantic as it was awkward. his series of brazen pick-up lines went right over your head (surely, you assumed, no one would tell you how good you'd look receiving backshots in the fucking frozen food aisle) but you still ended up giving toji your number that day.

and he's never been a religious man, but he was praising every god in the damn sky that you did.

one date was all it took for both of you to be locked in. he was a bad habit, an itch you couldn't help but scratch, irresistible. he was reckless, cocky at best and an asshole at worst, everything you weren't. needless to say, dating toji was against your better judgment. but for him, being with you was the first good decision he's made in a long time.

that's not to say things were perfect, or even easy. being with someone like you was so unfamiliar for someone like toji. loving you came as easy as breathing, but choosing you, choosing to work towards being a better version of himself... that was hard as shit. even small things took time, like physical intimacy. his body count was through the roof, so he had no issue when it came to having sex with you - but affection was a whole different story. it made him feel like he was in someone else's skin, someone weaker, someone who needed to be taken care of. it took til' mid-december, when the temperatures were practically sub-zero and frost crusted the ground, to get toji to warm up (no pun intended) to cuddling.

and now you'd gone and gotten him attached to this shit just to leave him high and dry?!

it didn't matter that your boyfriend was practically a walking furnace, heat radiating off of him in waves when he caged you in his strong arms. temperature be damned, toji thought, you started this, so you had to finish it.

"wake up." his gruff voice sounded out, a stark departure from the blanket of silence the night offered. when you only stirred slightly, he gave you a little shake. "oi, get y'r ass up. i'm talkin t' you."

at that firmer command, you rose your head, a displeased frown taking the place of your previous serene expression. "fushiguro, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing waking me up at..." you paused, fumbling for your phone on the nightstand and checking the time. "...at three in the damn morning."

"don't gimme that shit. girl bye," toji grumbled, not sparing you so much as an apology for disturbing your sleep. you simply gave him a deadpan stare, making him scoff and roll over to his other side. "'s fine, not like i needed to hold ya to fall asleep anyway." he muttered bitterly into the pillow.

your eyes were already halfway closed when he turned around, but they immediately shot open when you heard his grumblings.

"what did you say? you need to cuddle me to fall asleep?" you perk up, pressing your hands on his shoulders to coax him into turning back around.

"i sure as hell didn't say 'cuddle'," he groused, but still turned around anyways. his voice might have sounded annoyed, but you knew your toji. the flicker of warmth in his eyes told you everything you needed to know.

"heh, you said it just now, dummy." you grinned as you snuggled up to toji's chest, earning a flick to your forehead from the man in question. but you were unbothered, simply humming, "thought ya didn't like cuddling."

"y'r makin' assumptions," toji grumbled, the low, gravelly timbre of his voice sending shivers down your spine. "now quiet down so i can sleep."

at that, you scoffed in playful offense. "so you can sleep? you literally just woke me u-" you started, but he silenced effortlessly by pressing his lips against yours in a lazy, heated kiss.

when he pulled away, chest heaving with each hot puff of air, you were warm from way more than just the heat outside.

"go the fuck to sleep before i put you to sleep myself." he growled out, but there was no malice in his words - more of an invitation than a threat.

deciding to resist temptation this time, you settled back into his hold, your back flush against his chest. as you began to fade back into sleep, you heard toji whisper out, "meant what i said, y'know that? can't... can't sleep w' out you now."

the next words out of your mouth were simple, but they were all it took to put him at ease.

"i know, toji."

dawww <33 hope u like this fic everyone (esp mickey mwah mwah mwah) reblogs + comments appreciated !!

© shookuna ! toji header edited by me too tehe

[rafeandonlyrafe]

separate lines

words: 600 (+ three images)

warnings: entire fic is through phone calls/text messages, parental death (ward), established relationship, kinda protective rafe but its cute he just misses his girl, includes pictures of "readers" face/body, kind of illusions to sex (like barely!), overall pretty fluffy

“rafey!” you squeal as you answer your phone seconds after it rings. “how's it going?”

“well, everything is still standing.” rafe huffs out. you can practically hear the stress in his voice.

“that's good, baby. i miss you a lot.” sure, he just left this morning to drive back to the outer banks, but that doesn't change the fact that you miss him anytime he's away from you.

“god, i miss you too. if rose didn't need me here id still be-

“i know.” you cut rafe off. “you're back for three days with your family. it'll be fine and then we will be back together.”

you know being back in the outer banks is stressful for rafe after everything that happened. the mess with barry, the pogues, and then all culminating in his dad dying. when you decided to go a couple hours away to college, you still thought you'd have to persuade your boyfriend to come with you, to leave the only life he's ever known, but he jumped at the chance.

you live in a luxury townhouse right near downtown. you're even able to walk to most of your classes, of course with rafe by your side.

“you're right.” rafe hums. “we are figuring out the will stuff tomorrow morning.”

“i wish i could be there for you. text or call if you need anything.” you have classes tomorrow, but you'd drop anything if rafe really needed you.

“yeah just… text me updates, please? even if you just do the laundry or something. it helps to know.”

“of course i will.” you smile, hearing some commotion in the background. “and rafey? give wheezie a hug for me.”

“is that y/n?” you hear her voice in the background, then the fumbling of the phone being handed off.

“y/n!” wheezie squeals.

“wheezie, my girl!”

--

--

“how are you getting to class?” rafe asks, looking into the room where proceedings are about to start, going over his fathers will and who gets what. he knows most of it will go to rose, most likely the house and the real estate company. he doesn't really care. he has a new life now, one with you.

“amber is gonna drive me and pick me up. and no, her boyfriend will not be there.” you giggle, knowing even though amber and her boyfriend steven have been together since third grade, rafe would still worry with him around.

“and you're going to poli sci and then your geology lab, right?” rafe has your schedule memorized, but he likes to hear your confirmation anyways.

“yup!” you nod, even though rafe can't see you. “im excited for todays lab, actually. it's not rock identification, which you know i suck at.”

rafe let's out a soft laugh, having sat and listened to your complaining about rocks for hours already this semester.

“rafe, it's starting soon.” rose says, her words being picked up by you, otherwise rafe probably would have just ignored her in favor of keeping talking.

“alright, baby. hope it all goes well and doesn't take too long. i love you.” you coo into the phone.

“love you more.”

--

--

“home tomorrow.” rafe whispers softly, not wanting to wake up anyone else in the house. he's exhausted, so they must be too. it was a long day with lots of legal jargon, but everything got divided up about how he expected it to. 

most to rose, then the additional savings divided up evenly between him, sarah, and wheezie.

“im glad.” you whisper back, matching his tone even though you're home alone. “i ordered a cute pair of pajamas to wear to help me sleep. you know how much i struggle without you.”

“your insomnia cure.” rafe smiles, remembering what you called him after you first started sharing a bed, able to easily relax into him and fall into a true deep sleep.

“mhm.” you hum out, letting out a yawn. “do you mind staying on the call until i fall asleep?”

“baby, ill stay on all night.”

--

sfw tags: @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[otto-s-alskling]

John Price X Reader

Fluff. Just. Freaking cotton ball fluff.

Captain John Price was never one to go aggressively court a lady, no no. He's too old fashioned for that Gen Z energy. But he definitely is one for the long game. Always praising you casually with "Nice job" and "Well done" and "Couldn't have done it without ya." Which slowly evolved to "That's great, sweetheart" to more questionable ones like "Nice one, Lovie." It lowkey made you wonder how many endearments can one man use before he uses "that phrase."

It was hard to know when really. It was a slow night at the office and Price was busy with the last of the paperworks. Of course, the little sweetheart that you are, you stayed behind as well and brought him coffee.

"Hi, Cap... Thought you'd want a bit of coffee for a lil pick-me-up?"

Price smiled at the sweet gesture, immediately putting out the cigar that he had and waving away the smoke that linger.

"Thanks, Lovie. Can you put it here?"

You nodded and approached his desk, putting the cup of coffee (black with just a bare hint of sugar to cut the full bitterness) when he gestured for you to come closer a bit. I complied, glancing at the files that he needed a bit of help with, some french files that needed translation. Being the linguistics expert, you immediately moved to his side.

You were looking down on the papers to try to read it when his hand landed on your waist, making you sit on the armrest of his chair as you translate the papers for him. That's how you worked that night, sitting on the armrest with his arm around your waist on the last one hour you two are there, his thumb drawing circles on your waist as you diligently translate the papers on his tablet there.

This became a routine until one night he just straight up pulled you into his lap when he was extremely tired, using your back and shoulder as his pillow and his arms are wrapped around your waist tightly. You let the poor Captain be, your heart unable to say no, not when he asked oh so nicely to use you as a pillow for a bit. So he snoozed as you sat on his lap, trying not to think too much of it as you worked on the tablet. You did suggest him sleeping in the couch on his office but he didn't want that because that meant not being close to you. He doubted that you'd want to let him cuddle you at that stage anyway, so he was fine with this.

Thus the new addition to your routine. He'd get you on his lap at wee hours at night, both of you working, sometimes him napping, and that's basically it... For now anyways. It got a few eyebrows raised, especially to Gaz who's curious on how slow can a slow burn be. And you never get up from his lap either unless he had to actively talk with the other person on the room. You just stay on his lap, perched like a pretty little cat as you type and whoever was delivering some paperwork to Price would see it and you just... Don't seem to care, especially when Price tightens his hold whenever anyone arrive.

Then came a time when YOU were the one exhausted and against better judgement, fell asleep on his lap, curled up on him upon his insistence. This one really takes the cake because some Taskforce members, Gaz, Soap and Ghost had to be there for a small discussion and had to awkwardly talk in hushed voices because Price refused to wake you up and maybe convince you to go to bed. No, no, that would mean you'd be far away from him and he wants you to get used to being with him all the time. Gaz fought a snicker halfway into the discussion when you nuzzled closer to Price and he blushed. The man himself blushed and you had no clue it was happening.

Lowkey, it was entertaining and kind of weird to see, the three members choosing to face each other instead so they wouldn't have to get caught up in trying to stare at you and him and wonder if you're even aware of the Captain's feelings or if you're just going with the flow with him.

Things did suddenly change when the team got back from a hard mission and Price immediately looked for you after getting rid of his gear. He found you in his office, doing some filing. After locking the door, he just pulled you into his arms and laid down on the couch with you with a soft gruff "Come here please". You looked at him as he held onto you, his head on your chest, before slowly hugging him back, running your fingers through his hair as his ragged breaths changed slowly and he relaxed, the tension leaving him as you gently played with his hair.

It felt intimate and reassuring to him, and he just stayed there, using you as a pillow as he tried to forget and let go whatever it was that happened on the field. For the first time, you two actually cuddled and fell asleep together, the exhaustion claiming Price fast while you slowly dozed off after watching him sleep for some time.

After a few hours, he stirred awake. Price knew that this is wrong. That he is your superior and that he shouldn't even be looking at you like this but how can he not when you looked so sweet sleeping underneath him? He couldn't help but smile, couldn't help but plant a soft kiss on your cheek before going back to sleep again and hope you wouldn't mind the surprisingly high amount of comfort that he's getting just from holding you close like this.

This man has me on a chokehold and I've watched too many shows and movies with him in it. #shameless

[bonesandchalamet]

in this world, it’s just us — Finnick odair

masterlist | pairing: Finnick odair x reader

summary: in a world where hunger games don’t exist anymore it’s just you and Finnick

warnings: fluff

a/n: finally writing for finnick 🤭

you can hear his breath escape his lips, it’s faint, but it’s all that matters. he’s alive in your arms and in your bedroom.

nights were never the same, consisting of some form of him muttering incoherent words, legs thrashing, and thick sweat glistening against the sheets. the hunger games haunt him, even in a world where he’s safe.

there’s no president snow, there’s no more kids being hunted by others. the odds were in everyone’s favor, and people could sleep well again. except those in their respected districts victors villages.

the soft grunt that escapes his lips indicates he’s awake now. he rolls carefully onto his side, almost like he doesn’t want wake you, but you’ve been awake for some time. reflecting on what the nights could’ve been if finnick never was picked at such a young age.

“you’re doing it again.” he mutters, you feel him shift closer to you, his warm clammy skin pressed against yours, “you’re thinking about the if’s.”

he tsk’s you, and yanks the covers off your bodies to reveal the cool air of the house. it feels nice, after tossing and turning in the heat trapped sheets, you allow yourself to stretch out against the mattress and watch finnick rise for the day.

no day was ever the same, but finnick needed a new task everyday, or else he’d go insane. he needed to occupy himself from the loss and maybe even the ache. you never knew, he was a closed book about his experiences.

you watch him gather around to fish, a typical morning routine despite the overflowing amount of food in your house. you never objected or asked him not to go, it was the one thing finnick enjoyed and he could now do so freely. who were you to stop him?

“can I join you?” the words slip your mouth without a second guess, and he’s stopping in his tracks. you’ve never taken up much of an interest in fishing, not since you didn’t have to do so anymore, but you loathed sitting around waiting for him to return. plus, it gave you something to do as well.

“you better hurry.”

scurrying out of bed, you find yourself rushing with the sunrise and finnicks personal clock, but by the time you’re down by the water, no one else is even there and the sun is just starting to rise.

“what’s the plan?” you ask, turning to face him he’s got a trident in his hand, his typical choice of weapon that somehow made it back to district four along with him.

“we hunt, we go home, and then we eat.” he says offering a small smile before moving carefully and slowly into the water. he moves with such precision, careful not to alarm the fish. any movement and they’ll scatter along. you watch him hunt for awhile until it’s your turn, you don’t come up as lucky as he does, but he still applauds the three fish you killed.

“now we eat and save some for dinner.” he smiles, content with the couple hours of work done. without telling, it’s most likely noon and your stomach was reminding you of the lack of food in your stomach.

the hike home doesn’t take long and Finnick is cooking while you shower. the warm water trickles down your back, soothing away the morning worries. you take longer than you normally do, just to enjoy the silence your mind finally gives you before turning off the water.

emerging from the shower, he’s leaning in the doorway. a cocky smile against his lips that if it weren’t for his beauty, you’d attempt anyway to erase it.

“you think about me in there?”

“never in a million years would I think about you in my shower.” you pick up a soft towel, running the fabric all across your body and through the ends of your hair. out the corner of your eye, you can still see that smile. the smile that every girl falls for when finnick would enter a room. he’s easy to like, bright eyes, beautiful smile, golden blond hair, and an ego so big sometimes it’s adorable, other times? not so much.

“you’re awful at lying. it’s actually one of your worst traits.”

“and you’ve got an awfully big ego, it’s one of your worst traits.” you fire back with a smile on your face leaving him to roll his eyes and tell you lunch was waiting for you.

In this world, it's just us

You know it's not the same as it was

[dee-writes-smut]

DICENTRAS (Chapter Five)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Lucien shows up to the Autumn Court and secrets are soon revealed.

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, arguing, leaving, grief (over someone who is still alive), minor injuries, and Eris being angry.

AUTHORS NOTE annnnnd we are back into the swing of things! I would like to thank you all again for your patience these last few weeks, I am so incredibly grateful to all of you. Anyways, enough of the sappy, enjoy getting your hearts ripped out! :) -Dee

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the weeks passed after that fateful kiss, the atmosphere in the forest house transformed entirely. You had moved into Eris's room, and the space quickly became a haven of warmth and love. Each morning, you would wake in his arms, feeling the solid comfort of his embrace, the soft light filtering through the curtains casting a gentle glow over the room. The dawn would break with whispered conversations and soft laughter, the sound of your shared happiness filling the air like a sweet melody.

Eris had taken to placing his hand on your growing belly every morning, feeling the baby's movements with a look of awe and wonder in his eyes. The bond between the two of you deepened with each passing day, and the baby seemed to sense the harmony, responding with gentle kicks and rolls whenever Eris was near. The connection between the three of you was palpable, a testament to the love that had blossomed in the most unexpected of places.

You found yourself in a nesting frenzy, driven by an instinctive need to prepare for the baby's arrival. Eris's room, once a bachelor’s retreat with minimalistic decor, transformed under your careful touch. You spent hours arranging and rearranging furniture, making space for a crib beside the bed. The room was soon filled with soft blankets, tiny clothes, and stuffed animals, all ready to welcome the new addition to your family.

Eris supported your efforts wholeheartedly, often surprising you with thoughtful gestures. He would return from his duties with little gifts—a handcrafted mobile, a beautifully woven blanket, a carved wooden toy—each item chosen with care and love. Your evenings were spent together, organizing the baby's things and talking about the future, your shared dreams of the family you were about to become.

Despite the physical challenges of being 38 weeks pregnant, you found joy in the small moments. You would waddle around the room, humming lullabies as you folded and refolded baby clothes, your heart swelling with love every time the baby kicked in response to your voice. Eris would often catch you in these moments, his eyes softening with adoration as he watched you, a smile playing on his lips.

One particularly memorable evening, you decided to decorate the nursery corner you had set up. Eris had brought home a set of delicate, hand-painted stars to hang above the crib, and you both spent hours arranging them just right, laughing and teasing each other as you worked. By the time you finished, the room had a magical feel, the stars twinkling in the soft light, creating a peaceful haven for your baby.

Life was good, better than you had ever imagined it could be. The love between you and Eris grew stronger with each passing day, a bond forged in trust and mutual respect. The baby thrived within you, their movements a constant reminder of the new life you were about to welcome. The forest house, once a place of secrecy and fear, had become a home filled with love and hope.

But even in the midst of this happiness, a shadow lingered, a secret that weighed heavily on your heart.

Each morning began with the soft glow of dawn filtering through the windows of Eris's room, the warmth of his embrace a welcome start to the day. You would rise with the sun, your movements slow and deliberate as you navigated the space, your growing belly a constant reminder of the new life growing within you.

Breakfast was a leisurely affair, spent in the cozy kitchen of the forest house. The cook, a kindly woman with a penchant for indulging your cravings, would greet you with a warm smile as you entered, her apron stained with flour from her morning preparations. You would exchange pleasantries as you made your way to the table, the tantalizing aroma of freshly baked bread filling the air.

On this particular morning, however, you found yourself with an insatiable craving for something sweet. With a mischievous glint in your eye, you made your way to the kitchens, your footsteps light as you tiptoed down the hallways. The cook greeted you with a knowing smile as you entered, her eyes twinkling with amusement at your predictable craving.

"Good morning, dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth as she bustled about the kitchen, preparing the day's meals. "What can I do for you today?"

You grinned sheepishly, the anticipation of indulging in your favorite treat making your mouth water. "I was hoping you might have some of those honey cakes you made last week," you said, your voice hopeful as you eyed the display of pastries on the counter.

The cook chuckled softly, her laughter like music to your ears. "Ah, I see someone has a sweet tooth this morning," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "I'm afraid we're all out of honey cakes, but I could whip up a batch of cinnamon rolls if you'd like?"

Your face lit up with delight at the suggestion, your stomach rumbling in anticipation. "That sounds perfect, thank you," you said, your voice filled with gratitude as you watched the cook set to work.

As you waited for your treat to bake, you found yourself lost in thought, the warmth of the kitchen and the tantalizing aroma of cinnamon filling you with a sense of contentment. But just as you were about to indulge in your freshly baked cinnamon roll, a voice broke through the tranquility of the moment, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" came a familiar voice from behind you, the sound sending a jolt of panic coursing through your veins. Turning slowly, you came face to face with Lucien, his amber eyes gleaming with amusement as he took in the scene before him.

You froze in place, your heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find your voice. Lucien's presence was unexpected, his sudden appearance sending your carefully constructed facade crumbling to the ground. As he stepped closer, a smirk playing on his lips, you felt a surge of fear wash over you, the weight of your secret threatening to crush you under its weight.

Despite the initial shock of seeing Lucien standing before you, you forced a polite smile onto your lips, masking the turmoil that churned beneath the surface. His presence was unexpected, but you knew that you had to maintain your composure, at least until you could find a way to extricate yourself from the situation.

"Lucien," you greeted him, your voice carefully neutral as you returned his friendly smile. "What a surprise to see you here."

He returned your greeting with a warm smile of his own, his amber eyes crinkling at the corners with genuine amusement. "Likewise," he said, his tone light and friendly. "I must say, I didn't expect to find you sneaking into the kitchens for a midnight snack."

You chuckled nervously at his observation, the sound ringing hollow in your ears. "Oh, you know me," you replied, forcing a casual shrug. "I have a bit of a sweet tooth, and I couldn't resist the temptation of the cook's cinnamon rolls."

Lucien laughed softly at your explanation, the sound sending a pang of guilt through your chest. "I can't say I blame you," he said, his expression fond as he looked around the kitchen. "The cook here is quite talented."

As he chatted amiably with you, you found yourself falling into the easy rhythm of conversation, your nerves gradually easing as you exchanged pleasantries. He asked you about your journey to the Autumn Court, his curiosity genuine as he listened intently to your explanations.

You swallowed hard, the weight of your lies heavy on your conscience as you spun a tale of seeking adventure and new experiences, carefully omitting any mention of the true reason for your presence in the palace. You told him about your desire to explore the world beyond the borders of the Spring Court, your words carefully crafted to deflect suspicion and keep your secret hidden.

Throughout the conversation, Lucien treated you with the easy familiarity of an old friend, his warmth and charm putting you at ease despite the turmoil brewing beneath the surface. He seemed genuinely interested in your story, his questions probing but never invasive as he sought to understand the woman you had become since leaving the Spring Court.

But as you glanced down at the oversized shirt you had borrowed from Eris, the bulge of your growing belly hidden from view, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at your conscience. You knew that you were lying to Lucien, betraying his trust with every false word that passed your lips. But in that moment, with his friendly smile and easy laughter, it was all too easy to push aside your doubts and bury yourself in the comforting embrace of deception.

"So, what brings you back to the Autumn Court, Lucien? Is everything going well with Elain?"

Lucien's expression faltered slightly at the mention of his mate, his gaze flickering with a hint of sadness before he composed himself with a small sigh. "I wish I could say that things were going smoothly," he admitted, his tone tinged with regret. "But truth be told, Elain and I are facing some… challenges."

He went on to explain the difficulties he was encountering in his relationship with Elain, describing her struggles to adjust to life in the Night Court and the walls she had erected to keep him at arm's length. His words were tinged with frustration and sadness, his love for Elain evident in every syllable as he spoke of his desire to break through her defenses and build a life together.

"But it's not just her walls that I'm contending with," he continued, his voice heavy with concern. "There's another complication, another male who has caught her eye." He spoke of the spymaster of the Night Court, a man whose charm and wit had seemingly captivated Elain, drawing her attention away from Lucien and their fledgling relationship.

As he spoke, you could sense the pain and uncertainty that weighed heavily on Lucien's heart, his struggles with Elain's affections a constant source of anguish. Despite his efforts to win her over, it seemed that she was slipping further away with each passing day, her attention diverted by the allure of another man.

You listened sympathetically to his words, your heart aching for the pain he was experiencing. You could see the depth of his love for Elain, the longing in his eyes as he spoke of her, and it struck a chord deep within you. In that moment, you felt a kinship with Lucien, a shared understanding of the complexities of love and the challenges it presented.

"I'm sorry to hear that things are so difficult with Elain," you said softly, your voice filled with genuine concern. "But know that you're not alone, Lucien. If you ever need someone to talk to, I'm here for you."

“I appreciate that,” Lucien smiled warmly, reaching over to steal a cinnamon roll from your plate before steering the conversation toward lighter subjects.

You found yourself drawn into the easy camaraderie between you and Lucien, the warmth of his presence a welcome distraction from the turmoil of your own thoughts.

But just as you began to relax into the conversation, a shadow fell over the kitchen doorway, and you turned to see Eris standing there, his expression dark and stormy. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him, the tension in the air palpable as he took in the scene before him.

Lucien, ever the picture of charm and grace, greeted his brother with a casual smile, his tone light and teasing as he joked about your supposed dalliance on Calanmai. You felt the color drain from your face at his words, the implication of his jest hanging heavy in the air.

Eris's eyes narrowed at his brother's words, his jaw clenched with barely contained anger. He shot you a long, hard look, his gaze piercing through you like a knife, before turning his attention back to Lucien.

"What are you doing here, Lucien?" Eris asked, his voice cold and clipped as he crossed his arms over his chest. There was a steely edge to his tone, a warning that brooked no argument.

Lucien raised an eyebrow at his brother's question, his expression one of mild confusion. "Just catching up with an old friend," he replied casually, his gaze flickering briefly to you before returning to Eris. "And what about you? What brings you to the kitchens?"

Eris's gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, before he turned his attention back to Lucien. "I was looking for her," he said curtly, his voice tinged with a hint of annoyance. "We have matters to discuss."

With that, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the kitchen, leaving you standing there in stunned silence. You glanced at Lucien, a silent plea for understanding in your eyes, before rising to follow after Eris, your heart pounding in your chest.

But as you moved to leave, Lucien's voice stopped you in your tracks. "Wait," he said softly, his tone filled with genuine concern. "Is everything alright?"

You turned to face him, your gaze meeting his with a mixture of guilt and apprehension. And it was then, in that moment of quiet vulnerability, that Lucien's eyes fell upon the telltale swell of your belly, hidden beneath Eris's oversized shirt.

His expression softened, a look of dawning realization crossing his features as he took in the sight before him. "You're pregnant," he breathed, his voice filled with wonder and joy. "Congratulations."

You opened your mouth to speak, to correct his assumption and reveal the truth of your situation, but the words caught in your throat. In that moment, with the weight of his gaze upon you and the weight of your secret pressing down on your shoulders, you found yourself unable to speak. And so, with a heavy heart, you simply nodded, a silent confirmation of the lie that now hung between you.

As Eris stormed out of the kitchen, his footsteps echoing angrily down the corridor, you felt a surge of panic rising within you. Ignoring the discomfort of your heavily pregnant form, you hurried after him as quickly as you could, leaving Lucien to his own divices the oversized shirt you wore billowing around you as you waddled awkwardly down the hallway.

"Eris, wait!" you called out, your voice strained with desperation as you struggled to keep pace with him. "Please, let me explain!"

But he didn't slow down, his strides long and purposeful as he continued to march ahead, his shoulders tense with pent-up frustration. You quickened your pace, your heart pounding in your chest as you pushed yourself to catch up to him.

"Eris, please," you pleaded, reaching out to grasp his arm in a futile attempt to stop him. "You have to listen to me."

He jerked away from your touch, his expression hardened with anger as he rounded on you, his eyes blazing with fury. "I don't want to hear it," he snapped, his voice sharp and cutting. "I've heard enough lies for one day."

Tears welled in your eyes at his harsh words, the sting of his rejection piercing through you like a knife. But you refused to give up, refused to let him walk away without hearing the truth.

"I'm not lying to you, Eris," you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. "Please, just give me a chance to explain."

For a moment, he wavered, his gaze flickering with uncertainty as he looked into your tear-filled eyes. But then, with a frustrated sigh, he turned away from you once more, his resolve hardening with each passing second.

"I can't do this right now," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart. "I need time to think."

But you couldn't let him leave, not like this. "Please, Eris," you implored, your voice breaking with the weight of your desperation. "I'm so sorry for hiding the truth about Lucien from you, but I was scared. I was scared of losing you, scared of what it would mean for us."

His expression twisted with anger and betrayal as he whirled around to face you. "Scared?" he spat, his voice rising with each word. "Scared of what? That I wouldn't accept you? That I wouldn't love you if I knew the truth?"

You shook your head, tears streaming down your face as you tried to make him understand. "No, it's not that," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "I didn't want to burden you with my past. I didn't want to ruin what we have."

"What we have?" he repeated, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "And what exactly do we have if it's built on lies?"

"Eris, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I love you. I love you so much, and I never wanted to hurt you."

For a moment, he stood there, his chest heaving with the force of his emotions. Then, with a voice trembling with barely contained rage, he asked the question that had haunted him since the day you first met.

"Who is the baby's father?" he demanded, his eyes boring into yours with an intensity that left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. "Tell me the truth, now."

You felt the walls closing in around you, the weight of the truth pressing down on you like a vice. With a shuddering breath, you finally gave in, the words tumbling from your lips in a torrent of pain and regret.

"It's Lucien," you sobbed, your voice breaking as you spoke the name. "Lucien is the father."

Eris's face contorted with a mixture of shock and fury, his eyes blazing with a fire you had never seen before. "Lucien?" he repeated, his voice trembling with the force of his anger. "You mean to tell me that my brother is the father of your child?"

"I'm so sorry," you cried, your heart breaking as you saw the pain in his eyes. "I never wanted to hurt you, Eris. Please, you have to believe me. I love you, and I need you. We need you."

He shook his head, his face a mask of anguish as he took a step back, as if trying to distance himself from the reality of your words. "I don't know if I can do this," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I don't know if I can be with you, knowing that your child belongs to Lucien."

"No," you pleaded, reaching out to him with trembling hands. "Please, don't leave me. Don't leave us. I love you, Eris. More than anything in this world."

For a moment, he stood there, torn between the love he felt for you and the betrayal that now threatened to tear you apart. Then, with a voice heavy with resignation, he spoke the words that you had feared most.

"I need time," he said, his voice raw with emotion. "I need time to figure out what this means for us."

As Eris walked away, each step echoing like a death knell, you felt a profound sense of loss and despair wash over you. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed to the floor, the hard stone pressing painfully into your knees. Sobs of agony tore from your throat, each one more heart-wrenching than the last, the sound reverberating through the empty corridor. Your cries were raw, primal, a manifestation of the unbearable pain and heartache consuming you.

"Eris," you choked out between sobs, the name a desperate plea that went unanswered. The world around you blurred as tears streamed down your face, the reality of his departure sinking in like a lead weight in your chest. You felt utterly alone, the emptiness around you a stark contrast to the love and warmth you had shared with him.

Lost in your grief, you didn't hear the footsteps approaching until it was too late. A warm hand touched your shoulder gently, and you looked up through tear-filled eyes to see Lucien kneeling beside you, his expression one of deep concern.

"What happened?" he asked softly, his voice filled with genuine worry. "Are you hurt?"

You tried to speak, but the words caught in your throat, replaced by another wave of sobs. Lucien's eyes flickered with understanding and sympathy as he helped you to your feet, his grip strong and reassuring.

"Come on," he said gently, guiding you with a firm but gentle hand. "Let's get you to the medical wing. We need to make sure you and the baby are okay."

You nodded weakly, allowing him to lead you down the corridor. Your mind was a whirlwind of pain and confusion, each step feeling like an eternity. The journey to the medical wing passed in a blur, the world around you a hazy amalgamation of sounds and shapes.

The healers quickly took you in, their hands skilled and efficient as they checked your knees and examined the baby. Through it all, Lucien stayed by your side, his presence a small comfort in the midst of your turmoil. His eyes were filled with concern, his hand never leaving yours as the healers worked.

"She's okay," one of the healers finally said, her voice a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "Just a bit of bruising on the knees. The baby is perfectly healthy."

Relief washed over you, though it was quickly overshadowed by the gnawing pain in your heart. Lucien helped you back to your feet, his touch gentle as he guided you out of the medical wing.

"Let's get you back to your rooms," he said softly, his voice filled with compassion. "You need to rest."

You hesitated, the thought of returning to the room you had left weeks ago filling you with dread. "No," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Eris's room. Across from mine."

Lucien nodded, understanding in his eyes as he led you to Eris's chambers. As you approached the door, a sense of foreboding washed over you. With a trembling hand, you pushed the door open, your heart sinking at the sight that greeted you.

The room was empty. Eris's belongings were gone, the space devoid of any trace of him. It was as if he had never been there at all. You felt a fresh wave of despair crash over you, the reality of his departure hitting you like a physical blow.

"No," you whispered, your voice breaking. "He can't be gone."

Lucien's expression turned grim as he looked around the room, understanding dawning in his eyes. "I'm so sorry," he said softly, his hand squeezing yours in a gesture of support. "I'm so, so sorry."

You sank to your knees once more, the weight of your grief too much to bear. Lucien knelt beside you, his arms wrapping around you in a comforting embrace. "We'll get through this," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to your shattered heart. "You’re not alone. We'll get through this together."

But even as his words offered a small measure of comfort, you couldn't shake the feeling of profound loss. Eris was gone, and the world felt a little colder, a little darker, without him by your side.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething @starryhiraeth @darling006

[xjoonchildx]

kanalia | jhs x reader | final chapter: because i couldn't stay away

banner by the amazing @kth1 💕

⚜️summary: secrets and uncertainty plague a young queen in her arranged marriage to a kind but distant king. the farther she drifts from her husband, the closer she gets to one of his most trusted men.

⚜️pairing: queen!reader x royalguard!hoseok

⚜️rating: mature, 18+

⚜️genre: royal AU, historical AU, smut

⚜️warnings: infidelity (it’s complicated, y’all) mentions of pregnancy, fertility issues. OC struggles with depressive thoughts and episodes. smut warnings in effect.

⚜️word count: 10.2K

⚜️author's note: happy birthday month to my forever muse, jung hoseok. i hope that i did this poor, tortured version of you some justice. and yes, it did take me years to finish this story (😭) , but i did. thank you to every single who has ever taken an interest in this story and cared enough to stick with me through long delays and rough writing spells. once again, i have to shout out the OG @hobi-gif who lent her eyes to part of this story. i appreciate you all so much and if you enjoyed it, i would very much appreciate a reblog as well as your feedback.

thank you guys so, so much 💕

previous chapter masterlist

Love doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints It takes and it takes and it takes And we keep loving anyway We laugh and we cry and we break And we make our mistakes And if there's a reason I'm by her side When so many have tried Then I'm willing to wait for it I'm willing to wait for it

– “Wait for It”

Hamilton, An American Musical 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

One perfect loop is followed by another. And another. And another.

You need not look back and check your work, not anymore. Now you know simply by the pull of the thread that each stitch you place is snug and uniform. You sit in your chair by the fire and repeat the motion over and over again, staring unseeing into the pattern in your lap. 

“It’s a beautiful day, Your Grace.”

Hyeri’s voice taps at the edges of your consciousness, muffled as though she’s standing outside the chamber door instead of seated right beside you. You ignore it and push another loop through the fabric.

“Not a cloud in the sky,” she persists, gentle. “Perfect conditions for a walk, if you feel up to it. I could even accompany you, if you wish?”

There was a time, not long ago, when Hyeri’s prodding would have set your teeth on edge. But you do not have the energy to muster any such emotion. And so you give Hyeri the same answer you’d given her the day before. And the day before that one. The same hushed words, spoken in the same decisive tone.

“I’m content to stay in today, Hyeri. Thank you.”

“Very well, Your Grace.”

She drops the matter with a quiet sigh.

It’s unlike her. The Hyeri you know would fret and fuss for as long as it took for you to relent; until you had no choice but to quit your chamber simply to enjoy a moment’s peace. The Hyeri you know would be shooing you away from the fire, prattling on about how one errant thread could catch and send your entire dress up in flames. 

But the Hyeri seated beside you does none of those things.

So you sink deeper into the plush chair perched in front of the hearth and watch the flames dance. The embers at the base of the fire glow deep red, putting off a heat blistering enough to scorch your bare feet. 

But you cannot feel it. You cannot feel anything.

You’ve surrendered to the weariness now; let it consume you. Allowed it to fuse itself to the very marrow of your bones. For days you’ve done little beyond sleep and spend your few waking hours seated by the fire, needle in hand. 

Twice you’ve left your chamber and neither time by choice, but rather because the King had insisted on your presence at dinner. To what end you still cannot be sure seeing as you’d taken both meals in stilted, awkward silence. Apparently His Grace is far less bold without a bit of ale in him.

“The hunting party leaves in three days' time,” Hyeri says. “There’s been quite a fuss in the kitchens over it. They’re taking enough supplies to travel for months, by the looks of it.”

You make a non-committal sound under your breath. Hyeri forges on, undeterred.

“There will be a send-off in the courtyard, of course. Will you – “ she pauses to choose her words carefully. “ – Well, I assume that you’ll want to see the King off.”

You do not want to see the King off. Were it not for his pigheaded adamance that you keep up appearances for the sake of this sham marriage, you’d be content to never see him again. But you’ll not tell Hyeri that. Not when she’s made it clear where her loyalties lie and not when she still holds on to the delusion that one day you’ll decide to embrace your role as the placeholder by the King’s side.

So you say nothing at all. The fire pops as one of the logs crumbles in the hearth.

Hyeri clears her throat. “Your Grace, I only want what’s best for you. Surely you know that by now? And I don’t want people casting aspersions, which they most certainly will do if you’re not there to see the King off. The staff is already asking questions about why you’ve not been seen in days.”

“Has he asked for me?”

Hyeri blinks. “The King?”

“Yes, Hyeri,” you say slowly. “The King. Has His Grace requested my presence at this send-off ceremony?”

The color seems to drain from her soft face as she admits, “No, Your Grace. He hasn’t.”

“Then I see no point in worrying yourself over the matter.”

You return your attention to your needlework and place another yellow thread in the center of your Mugunghwa flower’s pistil. The flames crackle in perfect, undisturbed silence. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

“It’s cold out there today,” Hyeri says. “But if you bundle up tight, it’s quite pleasant in the sunshine.”

“Thank you, Hyeri,” you reply evenly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

It’s a lie, and you both know it. You have no intention of leaving this chamber today and much to your relief, the King did not require your presence at his evening meal the night prior. Hyeri had ordered your dinner sent up and then proceeded to dine with you herself. An insidious voice inside your mind whispers she’s afraid to leave you alone.

You ignore it.

Instead you try to focus on your Mugunghwa flower. You study it, blinking until the riot of colors before you has clear, defined boundaries – fiery crimson at the center which slowly bleeds into a subdued pink which in turn dissipates into a milky white. You pull fresh white thread through your needle and set to work on the flower’s edges.

“Your needlework is much improved, Your Grace,” Hyeri notes. “You’ll be finished with that pattern by the end of the day, as I see it.”

You thumb over the fabric and consider her assessment. She’s right, you’ll be done with this pattern in a matter of hours. And the only thing that awaits on the other side is another pattern. And another. On and on and on. 

“Perhaps when you’re done, you’ll consider mending this for me,” Hyeri says, gesturing towards her lap. “My eyesight is not what it used to be. I’m terrified of ruining the old man’s beautiful design.”

You set your embroidery down and turn to look at Hyeri, gaze falling to the opulent plum fabric in her hands. Slowly, the details sharpen into focus. The rich velvet trim. The gold threads glinting back at you in the firelight. The room begins to tilt.

“A footman found it in the woods last night,” Hyeri explains, her cadence slow and deliberate. “By the stables.”

You are keenly aware of the way she watches you in the weighty seconds that follow, one gray eyebrow lifted as she awaits a response. You do your best to appear calm despite the panic clawing its way up your throat.

You’d lost that shawl in your mad dash back to the castle. You’d been tearing through the dark, paying little heed to the branches that tugged at your dress and occasionally scraped at your hands and face. One of them had caught the shawl, but you’d been so desperate to reach the refuge of your chamber that you’d hardly noticed when it was wrenched away. You’d had, after all, your humiliation to keep you warm.

And you’d earned it, hadn’t you? With your drunkenness. With your recklessness. You’d let every one of your baser emotions take control. You’d risked every advantage of your carefully curated life just to throw yourself like a wanton at the feet of one of your husband’s closest confidantes. Like a fool. 

When Lord Jung turned on his heels that night and abandoned you in the woods, he’d done far more than just rebuff your clumsy advances. 

He’d finished you. 

“Your Grace?” Hyeri’s curiosity is evident. “Are you alright?”

Hardly. Your mouth waters as your stomach threatens to cast up what little you’ve eaten today. One glimpse of that garment had been enough to bring a torrent of memories rushing back; vivid, awful memories that you’ve worked hard to banish to the deepest recesses of your mind. You grip the arm of your chair hard enough to make your knuckles go white. 

“Your Grace?”

You don’t answer until you’re sure that you won’t retch the very moment you open your mouth. Hyeri studies you in the interminable silence, lips parted in an expression of concern. Your tongue is thick when you finally collect yourself enough to speak.

“Please do thank the footman for me, Hyeri. And I think it best to leave the more intricate needlework to you.”

Hyeri stares as you reach for your needle and thread with trembling hands, but you don’t dare look her way. You try to place a loop at the edge of your flower but the Mugunghwa’s colors have gone blurry again and you’re forced to back the needle out and start over.

Perhaps there was a time when the Mugunghwa was as vivid as a rose. With petals of rich orange-red, opaque from pistil to tip. But perhaps it was asked to weather too many storms. Too many droughts. Too many winters. 

Perhaps the Mugunghwa looks the way it does today not because of how it was made, but rather what it’s had to endure. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

The first snow of the season arrives early.

You stand at your window and watch it fall, noting how quickly the fields turn from green to white. You press your fingertips to the windowpane and the cold seeps through it, chilling you instantly.

In the courtyard below, the horses are draped in heavy blankets. Stablehands scurry around them; dusting snow off their muzzles and checking their shoes. Footmen work in teams, sharing the weight of the heavy trunks they load on to waiting carts. 

“I’ll wear the blue walking dress today, Hyeri. The one with the white flowers on the bodice.”

“Your Grace?” Hyeri is on her feet at once to join you at the window. “You’ll see the king off, then?”

“I’ll need the matching cape too,” you direct, brushing her question aside as you watch the newly-packed trunks take on a layer of white snow. “If the conditions are as awful as they look.”

“Yes of course,” Hyeri breathes, hurriedly whirling about the chamber behind you as she gathers your things. In a matter of minutes she has you dressed and seated, fingers twisting your hair into a plait at the base of your neck. She loops the plait and pins it into an elegant bun, fingers smoothing the hairs into place before her hands come to rest on your shoulders. She squeezes them gently.

“I’ll not ask you why you’ve changed your mind, Your Grace,” she says softly. “But I’m so glad for it. It’s important that people see you. For them, of course, but for you most of all. And besides, you look so lovely.” 

You don’t feel lovely. In fact, you don’t feel anything at all. And if Hyeri had pressed you as to why you’ve changed your mind, she’d not be satisfied with your answer. You’ve changed your mind because you cannot bear to cause more conflict with the King. Because you have no desire to create a scandal that you’ll somehow have to fix. You’ve changed your mind because you have no fight in you left. This is the path of least resistance.

You rise from your seat and Hyeri’s hands fall away. She clutches them to her chest, rheumy eyes soft with sadness as she watches you take your place at the window once again. Outside the snow falls harder, and you watch the footmen leave deep divots in it with their boots.

“Tell me when it’s time,” you say quietly.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You can scarcely recognize anyone in the throng of well-wishers gathered outside the castle.

They’re all bundled tight in winter coats and pelts; some wear hats and scarves. The snow doesn’t help either, and from the moment you enter the courtyard you’re grateful for your cape. Not only for the warmth of its thick lining, but for its hood, too. It affords you a bit of privacy in this otherwise very public affair.

You weave your way through the crowd and do your best not to make eye contact with anyone. Surely Boram is among those gathered with sweet Yeona in tow, here to see Lord Min off on his adventure. But you cannot bring yourself to seek her out – not when she’s already called on you twice without so much as an explanation for your disappearance. At any rate, you don’t think you could bear to look at her right now. To see the worry and concern you know you’ll find written all over her face. 

So you keep your hood pulled tight and your eyes down as you set off in search of the King. And you have no trouble finding him despite your reticence to make your presence known. It’s not just that he stands a head taller than most. It’s in his stature, in his stance – in that self-assured air that seems to come naturally to those born with power. He catches sight of you as he’s speaking to a footman and pauses, gaze locking on yours.

Your legs feel heavy. Your boots sink into the snow as you approach, each step more tiring than the last. When you are finally standing before the King you bow, dipping your head as you peer at him from beneath your hood.

“Your Grace,” he murmurs, lips twitching into a cautious half-smile. “I wasn’t sure you’d come down to say goodbye.”

“And yet I have,” you respond evenly. A snowflake lands on one of his long eyelashes and you resist the urge to reach out and sweep it away. “So I do very much hope that you are pleased.”

“I am pleased.”

The King reaches for your gloved hand. He waits a heartbeat before bringing it to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your leather-clad fingers. Beneath your hood, your cheeks burn. You withdraw your hand quickly and let it fall to your side. 

“Well. Then. I wish you a comfortable journey,” you say. “As well as a safe return.”

The two of you stand there for an awkward moment, the King’s expression expectant as though he’s waiting for you to say more. But you have no more to say. The words you’ve already offered him will do. They’re as empty as the vows you’d exchanged little more than a year ago.

“We ought to head out, Your Grace. We’re losing precious daylight and this weather will slow us as it is.”

The voice comes from somewhere in your periphery, but you need not see the man to know exactly who it is. Suddenly each breath you draw is painful, the frigid air pricking your lungs like a thousand tiny needles. You will yourself not to turn towards it, not to react in any way. 

“You’re right.” The King acknowledges Lord Jung with a brusque nod. “Have the stablehands check over the horses one more time.”

You won’t look at him. You can’t look at him. Not when the sound of his voice reverberates through every wounded place inside of you. Not when you can close your eyes and still feel the hot trickle of embarrassment that slid down your spine that night in the woods. But then he leaves you with no other choice.

“Your Grace.” 

The low timbre of Lord Jung’s greeting makes the fine hairs at the nape of your neck stand on end. You turn to him, slowly, and his dark eyes briefly connect with yours before he bends into a shallow bow. Your knees nearly give way when you return the gesture, along with a subdued, “My Lord.”

What must this man think of you now? What has he told the King? The nausea you’ve managed to stave off for days returns at once. 

You startle when a gloved hand wraps around your forearm and the King beckons you to face him. You flick your eyes up to meet his and find that they – along with his countenance – have darkened. By now Lord Jung is yards away, tending to his horse as the hunting party readies to embark. Your lungs ache with each deep pull of cold air.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, no. Not at all,” you insist, contriving a weak laugh. “I’m not accustomed to this kind of cold, is all. I’ll need to go back inside to get warm.”

The King’s brows furrow as he studies you. But you maintain your mild expression until his face relaxes and the disquiet subsides. He leans in to place a chaste kiss to your cheek. 

“Hyeri assures me you’ll be well taken care of in my absence.”

You lift the corners of your mouth in a gesture that you hope will pass for a smile.

“Thank you, Your Grace. Be well.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hyeri does not protest when you ask to undress upon your return to the chamber. Nor does she fuss when you climb into bed with the morning sun still high in the sky. She simply presses a soft kiss to your hair, draws the curtains tight and leaves you with a whispered rest well. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Your chamber is dark when you wake but for the soft glow of a fire. 

As you come to, so does an ache in your temples, a quiet thud that pulses in time with your heartbeat. Your muscles protest as you roll onto your side to find Hyeri seated at the hearth. 

She’s yet to realize that you’ve roused and so you lie there for a while, studying her. She has a strange, far-away look in her eyes as she stares into the flames, her grip tight on a book in her lap. After a few minutes she opens the book and begins to thumb through it and you watch, curious, as she pulls a worn piece of vellum from between its pages.

She unfolds the missive and reads over it, face crumpling as she fights back a sob.

“Hyeri?”

The older woman nearly jumps out of her skin when you call out to her.  She hastily folds the vellum and slips it back into her book, smoothing down her dress as she stands at attention. “Your Grace,” she says, voice huskier than usual, “I hadn’t realized you were awake.”

“It’s alright,” you say absently, voice rough with sleep. You steal a look at the book left lying in Hyeri’s chair as she hurries over to bring you some water. Her countenance is that of someone who’s been caught doing something they shouldn’t have. You stare at the glass she offers you, watching the water slosh back and forth. 

Is she trembling?

“You ought to eat something,” she admonishes gently, waving a hand towards the food waiting on the table nearby. “You slept through the evening meal. I had my mind made up to wake you if you’d gone much longer, but thankfully I didn’t have to. So come,” she beckons, “Eat something. It will do you some good.”

Your stomach twinges at the mention of food. It’s been in upheaval for days now, and as such it’s been far too long since you had a proper meal. But whatever awaits in the dishes nearby smells enticing enough, so you allow Hyeri to help you out of bed. Your muscles are stiff with disuse and you grimace as you make your way to the table. Your eagle-eyed handmaid takes note.

“A long, hot bath will do you some good, too,” Hyeri remarks as you spoon lukewarm bulgogi onto your plate. You eat slowly as she busies herself with lighting the torches and stripping the linens from your bed. “I’ll have the maids bring up the water after you’ve had a chance to eat.”

You’ve only managed a few bites of the bulgogi before there’s an army of maids filing into the chamber, flitting about the room like a swarm of bees. You watch the entire affair in a daze as the maids make quick work of the tasks set before them: tidying and sweeping the chamber, draping your bed in fresh linens, filling the tub with steaming hot water. And when all the commotion is finally done, Hyeri dismisses them with strict orders not to return unless they are sent for. 

You are grateful at once for the silence that immediately falls over the chamber. Even Hyeri leaves you for a while, disappearing into the antechamber to prepare your toilette. But when you glance over at her chair, Hyeri’s book is gone. Along with whatever was written on the vellum inside.

“Come now, Your Grace,” Hyeri says, at last. “I’m ready for you.” 

She leads you into the bathing chamber, where the air is humid and sweet. Then she helps you out of your rumpled nightgown and holds out her hand. You accept it, leaning into her as you step over the tub’s steep rim. Slowly you ease yourself down, sucking in a breath as the heat blazes a path up your feet to your legs and thighs. The water is hot almost to the point of pain but you withstand it, sinking until it laps at your shoulders.

“I used rose oil tonight,” Hyeri says, kneeling behind you and cupping your head in her hands. “I thought you could do with a bit of pampering.” 

The delicate fragrance envelopes you, carried on the curls of steam that rise just above the water. You breathe in the soft, floral scent and close your eyes; try to clear your mind. Hyeri presses her thumbs to your temples and starts making firm, soothing circles. 

“I remember the very first moment I saw you,” Hyeri muses softly. “I’d been so impressed by your poise.” Her hands move to the column of your neck and she kneads at the tight muscles there, pulling the tension from them with each pass. “You were little more than a girl then, but I could still see that you were lovely, inside and out.”

Were you? You’re not sure that you would even recognize the girl that stepped out of that carriage so long ago. You’d been so idealistic – so certain of the comfortable life that you would find here. Of the affluence and status and yes, perhaps, even love that you’d enjoy once you’d ascended to the throne. But that girl had been a nitwit. The woman you are now will never entertain such foolish notions again.

“I know that so much of this has not been easy for you,” Hyeri continues, setting to work on your shoulders. “I know that there have been days when you’ve struggled to put one foot in front of the other. But you have. And that means something.”

It does mean something. It means that your mother’s great work is finally complete. She’d spent her entire life molding you into the polished, empty creature you are today. If only she could see you now; see how biddable and pathetic you’ve become. It would fill her to overflowing with joy.

“Anyhow, when you’ve lived as long as I have you realize that nothing is forever,” Hyeri says thoughtfully. “Same as what you’re going through right now, Your Grace. It won’t be forever.”

Nonsense. Hyeri cannot change the King’s heart. She cannot save you from a lifetime of awkward exchanges and forced smiles simply because she believes things can change. And she cannot will a child into your womb simply by decreeing that it should be so. The swell of emotion that surges inside you is more powerful than anything you’ve felt in days. And it’s anger. 

“Hyeri, stop,” you order tersely. “No more.”

Her face falls at that, features going slack with dismay. But she heeds you, holding back whatever she’d meant to say next. Then she reaches for the soap and begins to wash your hair in silence. You chase the beads of oil that float along the surface of the water with a fingertip, cheeks hot with embarrassment. You hadn’t meant to be ugly to Hyeri. 

But then you’ve done many things of late that you hadn’t meant to.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“It’s alright, Your Grace. I know you meant no harm by it.” Hyeri dries her hands off and then rises to her feet, looking down at you with a kindness you do not deserve. “I’ll leave you to soak for a bit. You can have a few minutes of peace before I return.”

You’ve been unfair to her, haven’t you? The realization cuts you deep as you watch her retreat from the antechamber. She’s served you in so many ways since your arrival here: as caretaker and as advisor and as confidante. And how have you thanked her? By being cold and distant. By unleashing all the frustration and resentment you feel towards the King on her. And what of the tears you’d seen her hold back while she’d been sitting by the fire? Have you been so mired in your own anguish that you’ve neglected to see hers? 

The water has begun to cool and your skin has begun to pebble by the time Hyeri returns.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she says upon her return, helping you out of the water. “The time got away from me. You must be freezing.”

“Only a little,” you lie, teeth chattering. Hyeri sets to drying you, throwing the damp linens on the floor to catch the rivulets of water that fall from your hair. Her dark eyes dart from your shoulders to your neck to your ears, but they do not meet yours. 

“Is something wrong, Hyeri?”

“No, no. Not at all,” she answers quickly, “Just a bit tired.” Her reassurance rings hollow because she keeps her eyes trained on the floor as she bends to reach for the rose oil. When she straightens, you catch her hand with yours, stilling her. 

“What were you reading tonight?”

Hyeri’s mouth opens in surprise and then quickly closes.

“I saw you sitting by the fire,” you admit. “You were reading something that looked to upset you.”

“And here I thought you were sleeping,” Hyeri grumbles, taking her hand back. She pours the oil into one palm and then warms it before pressing it to your neck, letting a long moment pass before she speaks. 

“It didn’t upset me,” she explains. “Not in a sad way. Those were happy tears, I suppose.” She pours oil into your hands and begins to gently massage it into your fingers. “It was a letter from my Sanghun, back when he’d been courting me so many years ago. You might find this hard to believe, but I wasn’t always the old woman you see now. I had more than my fair share of suitors.”

It’s not hard to believe. Time has been kind to Hyeri. Her features, though soft with age, are still striking. She must have been quite fetching as a young woman. 

“What made you choose Sanghun?” you ask.

“I don’t know that I had a choice in the matter at all,” she laughs as she helps you slip into a nightgown. “The moment I saw Sanghun, no other man existed for me. It was him or no one.” Her eyes go soft with a faraway look as she recounts the memory. “The other girls thought him too practical, too serious. But I saw a side of him that no one else saw. A part of him that was just for me.”

“You must miss him,” you say gently.

“Every day,” Hyeri admits. “Ten years he’s been gone and I think of him every day. Those letters remind me of what it’s like to be young and so in love that you’ll not see rhyme or reason. But –” she trails off and waves a hand as if fending off fresh tears. “Never mind that. Come sit.”

It’s unclear which of you she’s sparing from the memory. But as Hyeri begins working her comb through the lengths of your hair, you’re struck by how shortsighted you’ve been. There is suffering in never having the chance to love and be loved, certainly. But there is a different kind of suffering that comes with having that kind of love and then losing it. The thought humbles you.

Hyeri comes to stand behind you and begins working your wet hair into a loose plait.

“I’m sorry, Hyeri,” you say softly, gaze dropping to your hands. “I’m sorry that I haven’t thought to ask you about Sanghun. I haven’t been myself and I’ve just – “

Hyeri silences you with a soft hush. She secures your braid with a piece of linen and then drops to her knees to look her in the eye. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” she says softly, stroking a hand down the side of your face. “Nor do you owe anyone an explanation for feeling the things you feel.”

Her warmth thaws the frozen places inside you. It causes tears to spring to your eyes. And when she takes your hand in hers, you squeeze it gently — hoping that the gesture can convey the feelings you can’t put into words.

“Now put all of that behind you,” she says, smiling through her own unshed tears. “And come sit with me for a while.”

Hyeri leads the way into the chamber and you follow, only to stop short when the hearth comes into view.

When your gaze falls on the silhouetted figure near the fire, you nearly scream. You try to scream. But fear seizes your body, inch by inch – rooting your feet to the floor and closing around your throat like a shackle. You have no choice but stand there, staring in horrified silence as the figure begins to emerge from the shadows. In the span of one frantic heartbeat, the figure has a shape. In the next, it has a face. 

And in the next, it has a name.

“H-Hyeri?” you stammer, swaying on your feet as your legs threaten to give way. Your handmaid doesn’t answer and so you call out again, voice quivering. “Hyeri?”

You cannot take your eyes off the man standing before you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and so you stare as the firelight flickers over his stark, beautiful features. Shadows dance across his clenched jaw and knit brow. And his eyes – those dark eyes you know so well are fathomless, inscrutable – smoldering coal set in unblemished, unforgiving stone.

“Hyeri!“ you call out to her again, desperate – reluctantly tearing your gaze from the man to look for her. And when your eyes finally land on Hyeri, you find your handmaid standing near the chamber door, hands clasped together tightly. Streaks of color running up the thin skin of her neck and into her soft cheeks.

But she’s not surprised, is she? Not flummoxed in any way by finding Lord Jung lying in wait inside your private rooms. The realization comes over you slowly, wholly, until a strangle tingle runs from your scalp to the tips of your fingers. She’s arranged this, hasn’t she? 

“W-What is this?” The words leave you as more air than sound, but they ring out clear enough in the silence of your chamber. Lord Jung and Hyeri exchange a long look, but neither utters a sound.

“Someone speak!” you cry, wincing at the hysteria in your voice. 

Hyeri finally clears her throat, her face now fully aflame. “I believe the two of you – “ she pauses, swallowing hard. “Well, I believe the two of you have some things you need to discuss.”

Discuss? You and Lord Jung? Suddenly the panic you feel metastasizes, growing into something much darker. Has he come to admonish you, then? To punish you for your disloyalty? Has he come to lay bare every humiliating detail of that horrible night at the stables for Hyeri to hear? 

“No,” you whisper. You do your best to appear composed, despite the way your knees tremble. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Hyeri. I have nothing to discuss with Lord Jung.”

“Yes, you do.” The man in question speaks for the first time, his voice little more than a low rasp. “And we will.”

“No,” you repeat your refusal, shaking your head as though the movement will help sort your jumbled thoughts. “No. You have no right to turn up here and say what I will and will not do. And where did you come from? I saw you leave. I saw you mount your horse and ride off with – “

You stop yourself before you can finish the thought, flushing fiercely at the unspoken mention of the King. Your tedious, disinterested husband would be anything but if he had any inkling of this clandestine encounter.

“I was called back to the castle,” Lord Jung explains evenly. “A palace rider came bearing a missive bidding that I return at once to address an issue at the stables. I was but an hour’s ride away at the time.” Once again, he looks to Hyeri and they exchange another one of those maddening looks.

“But there was no issue at the stables,” you deduce quietly, the pieces falling into place, one by one. “Was there, Hyeri?” Your handmaid seems to shrink beneath the weight of the accusation in your eyes. 

“No, Your Grace,” she confesses weakly, “There was not.”

Oh, but your head is truly spinning now – each new revelation more disorienting than the last. How long have these two been conspiring together? What does Hyeri know about what’s transpired between you and Lord Jung? What does he know about the many private things you’ve shared with Hyeri? Both thoughts cause the bile in your stomach to rise.

“You can leave us now, Hyeri,” Lord Jung says. “Thank you.”  

Leave you? Has the man lost all good sense? You open your mouth to protest, but when met with the intensity in his glittering dark eyes, words fail you. You just stand there, mouth agape, rendered mute and immobile with shock. You look over at Hyeri, who has fixed her pleading eyes to your wide ones, her expression urging you to comply. And though you cannot make sense of a single thing that you’ve witnessed tonight, you do.

“Very well, My Lord,” she says quietly. “Rest well, Your Grace. The staff rouses at dawn.”

And with that Hyeri takes her leave, the chamber door closing behind her with a heavy thud that echoes the one in your chest.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Once you are alone with Lord Jung, you realize how truly vulnerable you are.

With little more than a thin nightgown to cover you, he can see far more of you than would ever be considered proper. All it would take was one shout from the man to bring the guards running, to compromise you both to the point of expulsion. Perhaps worse.

But the situation is far weightier than that. 

You’ve been vulnerable to this man from nearly the first moment you saw him. You’d been weak to his attention and charms. You’d allowed him to see you in ways that no one else has: not Chaehee, not Hyeri and certainly not the King. And the only time in your life that you’d thrown caution to the wind – and acted with abandon, not restraint – he’d mortified you. The memory of that night is a wound that’s just barely begun to heal, and now here Lord Jung stands, poised to pour salt on it. 

You’ll not allow him to devastate you again. 

“Go on then,” you say, lifting your chin and speaking with feigned bravado. “You’ve gone to great lengths to speak to me, so speak. I assume you’ll enlighten me as to which matter is so pressing that you felt the need to steal into my chamber and risk ruin for us both.”

“I know what I’m risking,” he growls. Then he stops to collect himself, exhaling deeply as he shoves a hand through his hair. “I know what we both stand to lose. But I could not come to you any other way.”

“Why have you come to me at all?” you demand. “You made your feelings quite clear the night of the festival, did you not?” You can no longer contain your bitterness and it drips from your every word. “You should go back to your sovereign, My Lord. Back to your King.”

Lord Jung looks stricken when you use his own words against him. There is a despair in his dark eyes that might have pained you once, but not now. Not anymore.

“You have every right to be angry with me, Your Grace,” he acknowledges. “And if you bid me to leave, then I will do so. But not without telling you the truth. You deserve to hear the truth.”

“Everything here is a lie. Perhaps you, most of all.”

He looks at you for a long moment before turning towards the hearth to gaze into the fire. Orange-red light illuminates his profile, sweeping across his smooth brow, over the elegant slope of his nose and down to his strong jaw. He is still the most beautiful – and most terrible man you’ve ever known.

“The King said he would give her up,” he says woodenly, staring into the flames. “When your marriage was announced, he swore it. And I believed him.”

Every muscle in your body pulls tight.

“I knew that he loved her. We all did. But he vowed that he would respect his father’s wishes and I’ve never known him to be a duplicitous man. I’ve never known him to say one thing and do another. And when I realized that he’d been deceiving you, deceiving us all, I – “ he stops and shakes his head at the memory. “ – I wasn’t thinking clearly. I confronted him at once and demanded that he explain himself.”

The argument in the courtyard. The memories come back to you in an instant. The way they’d both looked so irate, the way their voices would rise and then fall. Lord Jung turning his back on the King and stalking away into the dark. 

The tightness in your chest is unbearable now, viselike. 

“I was so damned angry,” he whispers, more to himself than to you. “Never once in my life have I imagined putting my hands on the King, but in that moment – I don’t know. I don’t know what I might have done had I not walked away. But I confronted him because I had to know why.”

He rips his gaze from the fire and turns to you, eyes flashing.

“And do you know what he told me? Do you know what he said when I asked him why he would insult you by keeping a lover? He told me that he couldn’t stay away. That he’d tried to do the honorable thing but he couldn’t stay away.”

“Why are you telling me this?” The tremor in your voice belies your pathetic attempt at composure. “If you mean to cause me pain, it’s too late. I’ve known about the King’s lover since the early days of this marriage, and I’ve accepted it. Just as I’ve accepted that I’ll never amount to more than a trinket he dusts off to show to his people.”

Lord Jung takes a step towards you, his beautiful face hard in the firelight. There’s a maelstrom behind his eyes, a polite violence that sets you to shiver.

“I’m telling you this because I need you to understand,” he says. “I want to hate him. I have tried to hate him. But I cannot. I have no position of honor to stand on. No rightful claim to virtue. I have no right to condemn the King for his sins when I have so many of my own to account for.”

“I – I don’t understand,” you say weakly.

“I have no right – “ his voice breaks, thick with emotion, “-- I have no right to denounce the King for coveting another woman.” He drags a hand down his face, distraught. “Not when I have spent every single day since you stepped out of that carriage coveting you.”

You stop breathing entirely.

“So no,” he continues, voice graveled. “I cannot bring myself to hate the King. And you were right to think me a liar. I’ve pretended that my nearness to you was benign, nothing more than an act of service. I’ve tried to make myself look honorable to you, when I have been anything but. I’ve been a liar since the moment I met you.”

You are trembling now, head to toe. Rendered speechless by Lord Jung’s confession. Slowly, the maelstrom in his eyes starts to recede. He looks as vulnerable now as you feel. 

“You deserved to know the truth,” he says quietly. “If from no one else, than from me.” 

There is a heavy silence in the seconds it takes you to find your voice.

“My Lord, I – “

“Don’t call me that,” he pleads. “Please. Not now. Not when I’ve come to you like this.”

“Very well, Hoseok. But you sent me away. In the woods that night, I’d asked you to – “ you stop, not wanting to say the words aloud. “What’s changed? Why are you telling me this now?”

“I have tried to leave you alone.” His voice is ragged now, anguished. “I thought if I could just put some distance between us – if I rose earlier and worked harder and retired later – that I could exhaust this need out of me. But I can’t.” Torment is etched into every line of his beautiful face. It makes you want to reach out and touch him but you resist, uncertainty keeping your hands pinned to your sides.

“I cannot war with myself any longer,” he says hoarsely. “I cannot continue to lie to you or myself. And if he is not willing to give you the things you desire, then I will.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks, your neck. It gathers in your belly, too.

“So if you’re asking me why now?” he says, taking another step towards you, closing what little distance remains. “It’s because I couldn’t stay away.”

He touches you then, takes your face into one warm hand and strokes his fingers down your temple, smooths the pad of his thumb over your lips. The featherlight touch raises goosebumps all over your skin. It’s more intimate than anything you’ve ever experienced with the King. 

“Do you still want me to kiss you?” he murmurs. 

“No,” you breathe. “I want so much more than that.”

He looks at you with such heat that the warmth in your belly goes molten. Then he presses his mouth to yours and slowly coaxes it open with gentle strokes of his tongue. He tastes of whiskey and smells of fine, heady soap and he does not relent until you are panting. Moisture gathers at the juncture of your thighs, beneath your thin nightgown.

But suddenly you are apprehensive. You’ve no idea how to kiss a man properly, much less satisfy him as a lover. And you’re not sure that you could ever live down the shame of disappointing him. When he finally pulls away to look down at you with heavy-lidded eyes, you have no choice but to confess.

“There’s something you should know, Hoseok,” you say, the sound of his given name still foreign in your mouth. “It’s just that – well, I am by no means a maiden but in some respects, I might as well be. I know almost nothing about how to please you.”

Anger flashes in his eyes, and for one terrifying moment you fear it’s for you.

“That is through no fault of your own,” he says darkly. “And if he’s been too much of a fool to see to your needs, then so be it.” He dips his head to press a kiss to your ear, then whispers, “Your pleasure will be mine and mine alone.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Hoseok spends an inordinate amount of time tending to the fire. 

You sit on the edge of your bed and watch him, feverish with anticipation as he moves the weakest logs and adds fresh ones. Once he’s satisfied, once the chamber is glowing with fresh flames and warmth, he cleans his hands and comes to you.

Your heart rattles harder with each step he takes towards your bed. 

When he’s finally standing at the foot of your bed, he takes off his belt. And then reaches behind his head to pull his tunic away. The sight of his bare chest is enough to make your mouth go dry. His body is lithe and sleek and strong, his muscles rippling as he puts his hands down on either side of you and lowers his mouth to yours for a kiss.

“Tonight is about you, pretty bird,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across your cheek, down your neck. “So I want you to tell me everything you want.”

“I want to see you.” The words leave you in a rush an account of the way his mouth moves from the juncture of your neck and to the hollow of your collarbone. “All of you.”

Hoseok wastes no time in straightening to his full height to remove his breeches, and then his smallclothes. And try as you might not to stare, it cannot be helped. You’ve never been able to study a man like this. Not even the King.

“Can I touch you?” 

“Please,” he groans.

And then you are cautiously reaching for him, wrapping a hand around the length of him, marveling at the way he pulses in your palm. You run your fingertips down the skin of his shaft, awestruck by how silky and warm he is. But when your fingers reach the blunt head of him, he flinches.

“I don’t – I’m sorry,” you say quickly. “Did I hurt you?

“No, no. You didn’t hurt me,” he assures you, his voice sounding a bit strangled. “I’m just sensitive there, is all.”

“Will you show me, then?” you ask, curiosity far stronger than any self-consciousness you might feel. “Show me how to touch you.”

“Of course.”

He sits down on the bed beside you, taking hold of your hand. And then you watch with a heady mix of confusion and excitement as he takes your fingers into his mouth one, by one. He finishes the unfamiliar preparation by licking a long stripe up the palm of your hand. The stroke of his tongue sends a bolt of desire racing through you.

“It’s easier like this,” he explains, guiding your hand back to his length. You take hold of him again and this time he wraps his hand around yours. He moves your hand for you, up and down the length of him, until you can feel him growing hotter and harder in your hand. You’re fascinated by it all – by how firmly he wants to be touched, by how labored his breathing becomes, by the way the muscle and sinew in his legs seem to twitch at your command.

He leans over to capture your mouth as he begins to buck into your hand in earnest. And after a while his own hand falls away, leaving you to take control of his pleasure. And what an intoxicating power he’s given you – taut muscles in his abdomen flexing with each of his strained breaths.

“That feels so good, pretty bird,” he groans, taking your bottom lip between his teeth. “Just right. Your hand feels so good around me like this.” 

The wetness you’d felt between your thighs when he’d kissed you the first time returns, and each sound of pleasure he rewards you with makes you wetter and warmer. He is rock hard in your hand now, the dusky head of his manhood shiny with moisture. You watch a bead of it appear at the tip and you slide your fingertips over it, transfixed by how smooth it feels. Beside you, Hoseok shudders.

“I think that’s enough for now,” he says, breathless. “I’ll be of no use to you if you keep that up for much longer.”

You have half a mind to protest, but then his hands are sliding over the thin material of your nightgown, cupping your breasts through the gauzy fabric. He takes one of your nipples between his fingers and teases it until it’s standing at attention. You sigh.

“Can I take this off?” he whispers, pulling at the nightgown. 

You hesitate. Not even the King has seen you nude. Not once has he ever asked you to remove your nightgown and so for a long time, that is what you’d assumed he preferred. That is, until you’d caught him in bed with his lover. 

“Look at me,” Hoseok says, sensing your anxiety. He tips your chin up until your gaze meets his own. “I’ll not ask you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. But I would be lying if I said that I didn’t want to use my mouth and hands on you. On all of you.”

You inhale deeply, flustered by the way he speaks so plainly about his desires. But that’s what you want, isn’t it? What you’ve longed for all this time. And that’s what he’s promised you, isn’t it? Pleasure. Pleasure that will be his and his alone. 

You draw your nightgown up to your thighs and then raise up to pull it even higher. When you’ve finally discarded it, when there is nothing left between you and Hoseok you flush, looking away.

“You have nothing to hide,” he rasps. “You’re beautiful. Believe me, pretty bird – you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.”

Emboldened by the praise, you draw nearer to him and trace the outline of his heart-shaped mouth with one finger. And then it is your lips that find his; your tongue that moves past the seam of his lips and your teeth that find the shell of his ear. You thread your fingers in his hair, and he groans, gathering you close.

“You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve dreamed of you like this,” he says, gently laying you back on the bed. “You can’t imagine how many nights I’ve taken myself in hand to these fantasies.”

Oh, but you can imagine, can’t you? The few times you’d dared to try and seek your own pleasure, it had been him in your mind’s eye as your hand was between your legs. It had always been him. 

Hoseok’s mouth leaves yours and when it  finds the tip of one aching breast, you gasp.

“Do you like that?” he goads, laving your nipple with his tongue, taking it between his teeth. The pang of pleasure he incites in you is so sharp, you cry out. “Your body is so responsive,” he murmurs. “So damned responsive.”

There is only so much of that particular torture you can take, and so when his mouth finally leaves your breasts you exhale a sigh of relief. But then his mouth is on your sternum, and then your stomach, and then –

You freeze.

“I want to kiss you here,” Hoseok explains, cupping your mound with one large hand. “I promised you pleasure and this is the surest way to it. Will you let me?”

He looks up at you from the edge of the bed, his dark hair wild and his dark eyes glossy with desire, his mouth hovering over your most secret place. Your pulse skitters, heart pounding erratically at the thought of him kissing you there.

“Is it – is it proper?” you ask, chiding yourself at once for asking such a stupid question. Your face flames when Hoseok raises a brow. “I don’t know that I’ve ever thought to consider the … propriety of such an act,” he says slowly. “But I know that you’ll enjoy it if you allow me to show you. And if you don’t enjoy it, I’ll stop.”

In the seconds that follow, you think about the way he’d let you take him in hand. How he’d showed you how to bring him pleasure, without reserve. How powerful you’d felt when he’d been shuddering under your touch. He’d trusted you, hadn’t he? Just as you now must trust him.

“Alright,” you whisper, nodding your assent. “I trust you.”

He grins at you then, wickedly, before lowering his mouth to your mons. And then he is kissing you there, softly, each brush of his lips moving lower and lower still. Until you feel the heat of his breath at your entrance. You tense.

“Relax for me,” he instructs, licking a long, wet stripe up the length of you. The touch sends a frisson of sensation shooting through your limbs. “Close your eyes and try to think of nothing but this.”

And then he sets his tongue to the tiny pearl at your entrance. 

And at once, you see stars.

“H-Hoseok!” you gasp, your hips flying off the bed at the contact. The urge to snap your legs shut is almost as strong as the urge to push deeper into the pleasing press of his tongue. Almost.

But he pins your legs down with his arms and continues the onslaught, stroking and licking at you with his tongue, nipping at you with his teeth. You grab fistfulls of the duvet as though it might ground you somehow, keep you from bursting into flame.

And then he slides one long finger into you.

You are incoherent now, moaning and begging in broken sentences that do not make sense. But your body is responding in ways that your words cannot, hips moving in time with his mouth. Each pass of his tongue sends sharp spikes of pleasure to your core. You’d thought you’d known what this pleasure felt like, that perhaps you’d be able to reach it on your own someday, but never once had it been like this. 

And then you can feel it – the coil turning inside you, the desperate ascent to the one place you’ve never been able to reach. And it’s so close, so so close – the promise of whatever awaits on the other side strong enough to sate this nameless craving that you’ve felt for so long. It’s within your reach now, if only you can just hold on.

And then it stops.

He takes his mouth and tongue away and the pleasure vanishes. “Hoseok, no,” you cry, sapped of all energy, robbed once again of the relief you so desperately seek. “Please,” you beg weakly, “please.”

But he’s at your side now, the length of his body resting against yours, his manhood hard and hot against your leg. “Come now, pretty bird,” he soothes, “I didn’t bring you this high just to let you fall.”

He presses his lips to your ear at the same time he presses his fingers back to the aching bud between your thighs. “Go on then,” he whispers. “Fly.”

He brings every sensation he’d wrought from you rushing back with his fingers. His mouth hovers at your ear, whispering his encouragement until the coil inside you snaps. He must have known that you’d not be able to contain yourself when you came apart because he covers your mouth with his own, swallowing the sobs he wrenches from you, bringing you down slowly as you come apart.

And when you finally come to your senses again, when your breathing has evened and your heart has slowed and every part of you feels liquid and languid, he smiles.

“I couldn’t risk you waking the entire castle,” he explains apologetically, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Forgive me.”

“There’s nothing to forgive,” you shudder through your quiet laughter, aftershocks of sensation rippling through you. “Quite the opposite, in fact. I’ve never – never experienced anything like that.”

“That’s mine,” he murmurs, going up on one elbow. “Just as I told you it would be.”

Indeed. But what about his pleasure? The firm reminder of it remains pressed against you, the rigid length of it leaking onto your duvet. You reach for it and he draws a sharp breath through his clenched teeth.

“I want to feel you inside me,” you say softly, noting the way a muscle tics in his jaw. You wrap your hand around him and squeeze, astounded by how feverishly hot he feels. “Please.”

Hoseok nods, climbing over you and settling his hips between your thighs. He takes himself in hand and when you feel the blunt head of him at your entrance, you tense again. But he doesn’t enter you right away. Instead he looks down at you, his dark eyes brimming with emotion.

“Are you certain,” he breathes, his brow dotted with a fine sheen of sweat. “I need to hear you say it.”

You lift up to kiss him, pressing your lips to his. “Take me, Hoseok,” you whisper. “Now.”

And in one sure stroke, he’s buried to the hilt inside you. 

Bodies sealed, fates sealed.

The force of his entry steals the breath from your lungs. And though you’ve been breached before, it’s never felt like this. You’re still sensitive from the pleasure he’d given you only moments before and each of his thrusts only heightens the sensation. 

You cling to him as he rocks against you, closing your eyes to revel in the fullness. He buries his head in your neck and thrusts harder, the sound of his skin meeting yours just as gratifying as it is lurid. And when he reaches between you to press his fingers to your pearl once again, impossibly you feel fresh pleasure begin to bloom.

Broken phrases fall from his lips, a string of curses and blessings and everything in between. And his coarse language doesn’t scandalize you; in fact it only causes you to hurtle towards the peak faster. And then you’re flying again – flying apart, scattering into a million pieces. Crying into his mouth as your release explodes into color and tiny wisps of fire slowly drift back to the earth.

But you come back to yourself just as his rhythm has started to falter, just as the steady cant of his hips becomes so frenetic that you know his own release is near. You have only a moment to mourn the loss of his weight and his warmth before he’s on his knees before you.

You’ve never seen anything more erotic. Firelight flickers over him as he throws his head back, the cords in his neck clenching as he takes himself in hand. And then he is groaning, long and low, as his release spills on to the duvet.

Then he collapses onto you, wrapping you up in his arms, turning you both until he’s on his back and your head rests upon his chest. And then you both lie there for a while, skin to skin,  watching the flames cast shadows on the stone.

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

Neither one of you sleep, the threat of dawn too near to indulge in any such luxury. 

“What happens now, Hoseok?”

You ask the question after he’s made love to you a second time, both of you too exhausted to move. Hoseok inhales and exhales deeply. “I don’t know. I have no control over the world outside of that chamber door, pretty bird.”

You map the lines of his chest with one finger, thoughtful.

“You told me earlier that if the King would not give me the things I desire, you would. Did you mean that?”

“I did,” Hoseok says, pressing a kiss to your hair. “If it’s within my power, then I will. I will give you anything I can.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, closing your eyes and breathing deeply. “Thank you.”

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

You sit by the window and take in the afternoon sunlight, eyes drooping as you fight to stay awake.

You cannot ever remember being so tired. You sleep in fits and starts now, two or three hours at a time. And your body is too fatigued to talk up walking again, though the fresh air and exercise would do you some good. But you will walk again, soon. It won’t be long before you’re sitting with your birds and reading in the gentle Spring breeze.

Hyeri charges into the room like a bull, the tea tray in her hand clattering loudly. You narrow her eyes at her as she approaches and she fixes you with a sardonic look.“Oh, hush you,” she grumbles, setting the tray down on the table and walking over to you. “I wasn’t that loud.”

But her scowl falls away as her gaze locks on the baby at your breast, her muted eyes glowing with admiration. 

“That’s a fine Prince you have there, Your Grace,” she says softly. Then she looks up at you and her scowl returns. “Though at the rate you’re going, I’ll never get to hold him, will I? You’ve an entire staff to help you with him, and still you refuse. You’re going to make that boy rotten.”

You chuckle under your breath as you stroke your hand over the tuft of downy hair at your son’s crown. He blinks up at you with his huge dark eyes, and your heart is filled to overflowing with a love that you once you thought you’d never know. 

⚜️⚜️⚜️⚜️

y,all i finished it! hahah okay so listen. if you'd like to talk to me, i'd love to hear from you. please consider reblogging and dropping me an ask 💕

[publicenemy212]

Part 1 of Love Potion (dom!Velvette x f!sub!reader)

There's two parts to this story since it's porn with plot (yeah yeah no one reads smut for the plot I know) and Part 1 is gonna be pretty SFW other than some cursing. Part 2's (the actual smut) in the works and will be out in about two days!

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Word count: 1,199 words

Summary:

You're a well-known Sinstagram influencer with hundreds of thousands of loyal followers. Yet, each time you post, you're only really looking for the attention of one person: Velvette, Hell's high-end fashion designer and fellow influencer. After posting several pictures taken during a night out with friends at Klub Kaiju, you wake up to a much-wanted message that you formerly could only dream of.

“Alright, stay safe! Thanks for the ride,” you called out to the designated driver for the night. As the car sped off, you sighed and walked to the entrance of your apartment building, wincing with each step. Your feet screamed in pain from being in heels all night long—you couldn’t wait to just fall down into your comfy bed.

The bedframe squeaked as you practically threw your battered frame onto the mattress. You groaned with relief as you loosened the corset and kicked off the heels. Though your eyes threatened to glue themselves shut with each blink, you forced yourself to stay awake. There was no chance you’d fall asleep before posting the new flicks from your night out. Such were the responsibilities of an influencer like yourself.

You dug through your purse, praying your phone didn’t somehow fall out while you were on the dance floor. Thankfully, it didn’t, and you promptly opened the Sinstagram app to create a new post.

Scrolling through your gallery, you chose a few pictures of different angles to best showcase your outfit and, of course, your body. You weren’t only posting for the measly 400,000 nobodies who would scarf up any and all crumbs you’d throw to them, no; you had somebody to impress. A very powerful somebody, whose opinion could make or break your career. Velvette. Arguably the most well-known and respected fashion designer in all of Hell.

You chose three of the best contenders and minimally filtered out any slight imperfections, be it an unsavory onlooker in the background or the club or a speck of dust in the camera lens. Any filtering beyond that was unnecessary and would probably only decrease the quality of your pictures.

Satisfied with the pictures, you began laying out a caption and all the usual hashtags to increase your reach.

When the night calls

#pentagramcity #pridering #klubkaiju #model #VVVmodels #VelvetteScouting

The last two tags were the most important. Everything else was almost trivial at this point—you had amassed enough followers to gain a steady stream of likes, comments, and shares. All you needed was to catch Velvette’s eye to reach the next step to power and success.

After you gave your post a final once-over, you tapped “Post.” As usual, the notifications started flooding in almost immediately. You glanced at the top of your Vphone to check the time—4:52 AM—and rolled your eyes. Just how pathetic were these sinners that you could post at the buttcrack of dawn and thousands would still flock to your post nearly instantaneously? 

You closed the app and your Vphone, determined to get some well-deserved shut-eye. You had never been so grateful it was a Friday night and not a weekday night. Though you didn’t get hangovers often, you absolutely despised not being able to get all eight of your beauty sleep hours.

Sleep quickly enveloped your tired body like a warm blanket.

The next day, the sound of screaming outside the window roused you from your hibernation. Perhaps once it was the sound of birds chirping that would wake you up, but such days were long gone ever since you found yourself amidst dirty streets and red skies. Not that you cared much, anyway. Your past life was a speck compared to the time you’ve now spent in Hell. 

You blinked slowly and turned over to reach for your phone. Obviously, notifications were off, so you manually opened Sinstagram to check if any of your friends had messaged you through the night and morning.

You scrolled through your list of unread DMs to check how many people you needed to respond to. This was all muscle memory for you and your eyes almost glazed over with boredom until an unfamiliar profile picture flashed by. You frowned in confusion. Did one of your friends change their profile picture? You were certain you set your settings to only allow people you followed and were followed back by into your primary messages channel.

You scrolled back up to investigate this unfamiliar face.

Your heartbeat froze.

Velvette (✔)

Hey darling! I saw your re… · 2h

There’s no way. Surely this had to be a prank?

You carefully tapped on the profile just to make sure it was really Velvette, being mindful to avoid prematurely opening the message in case it truly was her. Could it be somebody impersonating her? No, that couldn’t be, no lowly fan account could obtain a verification mark. Maybe one of your celebrity friends was pulling your leg? That couldn’t possibly be either. Impersonating an overlord was equivalent to poking the bear and asking for death. Not to mention the fact that it would ruin their own online persona and brand if they randomly changed their account so drastically.

Your heart had seemingly defrosted while thoughts and questions ran through your brain. It was now pounding with the ferocity of a thrashing, turbulent river. Could it really be…? 

The account was real. Velvette messaging you was real.

All your hard work had paid off, and you were on your way to being part of the Vees.

You swiped back to the messages screen and stared at the unread message from the fashion icon. What should you say to her? What if she would notice the second you opened her message? Oh god, what if she was judging you for taking so long to respond to her this very minute?

Breathing deep to calm yourself, you tapped on her message.

Hey darling! I saw your recent post. You’re quite lucky to get a DM from me directly, just so you know. I have my assistants reach out to most people who’re trying to get scouted via Sinstagram. What do you say to coming in for an interview tonight? x

Blood pounded in your ears. You tapped out a quick reply.

Hi Velvette! Thank you so much for your consideration! I’d love to join you for an interview tonight. Just to be clear, is there anything I should bring?

You nearly jolted out of your own skin when Velvette read your message barely a minute after you sent it.

Just yourself. No makeup, the stylists will take care of that when you arrive x

You double tapped her message to like it before shooting a final confirmation and thank you message and your phone promptly flew across the bedroom and thwacked against the wall. Shoving your face into the pillows, you rolled around back and forth and kicked your legs madly. Holy fuck. Holy fucking shit. You finally did it.

You screamed into the pillow before lifting your head up and gasping for air. Giggles bubbled up your chest and erupted out of your mouth until it turned into full-on laughter.

As the initial high of being noticed by the fashion overlord subsided, doubts crept up into your mind once more. You weren’t one of her models just yet. There was still an interview to pass before you truly worked under Velvette. You groaned in displeasure at the idea of not quite reaching your goal just yet.

Sitting up from your bed, you decided to get ready for the day and night ahead of you.

-

Part 2 is out! <3

[kitchenisking]

May Fic Rec

Nicotine by honorarystar - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3,404, sterek)

Stiles wants to take a nap at Derek's place. Derek thinks he smells too amazing for his own good. Or Derek's for that matter.

UST (An Unfortunate Series of Tropes) by ureshiiichigo - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 54,259, sterek)

Stiles and Derek sitting in a tree, M-A-R-R-I-E-D. 

Wait, what? 

Or: Stiles thought he and Derek were finally getting to be bros, and then Deaton had to go and ruin everything with his stupid spell.

For the hour of great humiliation by Naicele - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8,278, sterek)

There are witches, but maybe they are mostly a plot device to get Stiles and Derek to spend time in very close proximity. -- “Stop that,” Derek growls. “Stop what?” he whines, because, this situation is worthy of some complaining on his part “Stop smelling like that,” Derek hisses, breath hot on Stiles’s ear. “How do I stop smelling? Dude that’s insane,” he whispers back. “What do I even smell like,” he adds and then immediately regrets it. Surely Derek can’t smell that on him, can he?

Point me where my life begins by Gotta_seduce_the_Rainbow - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 39,430, sterek)

When Derek wakes up without his memory, he is left with nothing but a note he wrote himself. He no longer remembers anything personal, not himself, not anyone else.

The note is pointing him towards the town Beacon Hills and once he is there, he is greeted by strangers telling him “Dude, I didn’t know you’re back in town”, which is confusing. Apparently, he grew up in Beacon Hills, but left a few years ago without telling anyone about it.

There is this one stranger, who calls him dude and has the most amazing scent. Derek might just want to start his new life here. With this person.

let’s make a reckless memory by EvanesDust - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4,283, sterek)

[excerpt] "Stiles…" Derek groaned, his head dropping between Stiles's shoulder blades as he thrust his cock against Stiles's hole. "God, please tell me you know that I love you."

Stiles clenched in response, desperately wanting to be filled, and nodded. They'd only been dating for a week when Derek first told him. It was New Year's, and they'd just kissed at midnight. "Y-Yeah, I know. I know you love me. I love you, too."

And he did. So fucking much.

"Good. Because I'm going to fuck you like I don't."

…or the one where Stiles surprises Derek by coming home for spring break, and they fuck in the sheriff’s station.

Can't Start a Fire Without a Spark by Nerdy_fangirl_57 - (Rating: T, Words: 8,945, sterek)

After the whole ordeal with the nogitsune Stiles struggles with proving to himself that he can be good again. He starts learning to control his spark in hopes that he could be helpful to the pack once he manages to channel it's power. Everyone thinks it's a great idea and are willing to help him anyway they can, but Scott, Scott doesn't see the point in it.

It's not like Stiles' tiny spark could ever be powerful enough to be an actual asset to the pack.

Stiles just wants a chance to prove himself.

Million Reasons by FireAndIceHeart - (Rating: T, Words: 20,474, sterek)

After a nasty fight between Derek Hale's Pack and three witch sisters, Derek kicks Stiles out of the pack. His friends abandoned him and his father is always at work and Stiles has never felt so alone. Well at least now he has the time to think of all the reasons why he deserves to be in the pack and figure out where it all went wrong. That is...until he gets kidnapped.

I'm Only Human by DarkAlpha67 - (Rating: T, Words: 3,477, sterek)

Stiles has always placed other’s needs above his own… And no one ever took the time to notice the strain that burden had on him.

Until him…

*

In which Stiles neglects to take care of himself and ends up in the hospital where he will learn a werewolf pack is just another word for Family.

Hale's Theory of Exclusivity by kitsunequeen - (Rating: T, Words: 4,098, sterek)

For the request: "Stiles visits a wolf rescue/sanctuary type thing (like the one TW donated to!!) and gets really friendly with the pack alpha and then he comes back and Derek is all angsty because /another alpha's scent is all over Stiles/." --- “You’re the one,” he huffs, “you’re the one who was always trying to assure me that my past relationships were unhealthy. That I deserved something better. And this? This is your idea of healthy?”

“Are you seriously throwing that in my face?” Stiles demands, tears suddenly pricking at his eyes. He wipes them away roughly, jamming his hand in his pocket. “That’s- that’s pretty shitty, dude.”

“Are you kidding me?” Derek seethes. How is this happening? How on Earth is this spiraling so badly? “I’m throwing it in your face? You go around pretending we’re exclusive, and I’m the one acting shitty?”

“You know what?” Stiles snaps, tears streaming freely now. The room is swirling with the scents of hurt and confusion and anger and betrayal and- “Fuck you, Derek.”

Happy Son Happy Spouse Happy House by alikatastic - (Rating: Not Rated, Words: 3,085, sterek)

Eli was so much like him, a stark reminder of who he was at sixteen. It was a grand statement of nature vs. nurture. Eli Hale might not have shared any DNA with him, but there was never a doubt that he was Stiles’ son, his pup. Stiles would do anything for his kid; missing sleep after a long case and threatening the Coach were small tasks for him. As long as Eli was happy, Stiles was happy, and if Stiles and Eli were happy, so was Derek.

[five-rivers]

wandering heart

For @phantomphangphucker for phic phight!

.

.

.

The needle was bronze.  

The copper alloy stood out better against ectoplasmic flesh than it would have against red blood.  It dipped in and out of Danny's skin with machine-like precision, drawing a slender purple string in its wake.  Appropriate.  Clockwork was at least partly mechanical.

“You're getting close to my liver,” said Danny.  “Careful.”

“You are aware that these facsimile organs are not at all essential to the function of your body.”

“Sure they are,” said Danny.  He leaned his head back on the cushion Clockwork had provided him.  “That's why you're sewing me up.”

Clockwork's tower wasn't Danny's usual post-battle stop, but the fight had been nasty and it had been close. His other choices had been flying an hour to reach the Far Frozen and leaving an ectoplasm trail through the mad science lab dedicated to dissecting ghosts.  The decision had been easy.  

Clockwork had complained, of course.  Ninety percent of the time spent stitching had doubled as time spent snarking.  It was fun.  

“You have more than fake human organs in here, and losing that much ectoplasm is unhealthy for a ghost regardless.  You are friends with the doctors of the Far Frozen.  Perhaps you should avail yourself of their knowledge more frequently.”

“I already have one health class I'm failing.  Don't need another.”

“You are not failing your health class.”

Danny peeled back an eyelid that had fallen shut at some point during the exchange.  “Are you using your time powers to spy on my grades?”

“Hardly.”  Clockwork picked up a pair of ornate scissors and snipped the string he'd been stitching Danny up with.  “But even so, I doubt you would notice if I removed one of your so-called organs.” 

“You could try,” said Danny.  He closed his eyes again and leaned to the side until he was slumped over on Clockwork, who made an offended noise.  “You’re trapped now.  Stuck.”

“I am a shapeshifter,” said Clockwork.  “You cannot ‘trap’ me simply by leaning on me.”

“Can too.”

Danny was tired.  Sometimes, he could shrug off both fights and injuries like they were nothing, but unicorns were vicious and Technus was mean.  Electricity always took a lot out of him.  

Clockwork sighed heavily.  Danny smiled.  

“You aren’t nearly as charming as you think,” said Clockwork.  

“And yet, you are neither kicking me out nor stealing my pancreas or lower intestine or anything like that.”

“I could.”

“But you haven’t.”  Danny tucked his feet underneath him and snuggled more heavily into Clockwork’s side.  

The ghost groaned, but obligingly made room for Danny.  Yes, yes, exactly according to plan.  The evil one, where he made friends with Clockwork.  He figured he was already halfway there, if Clockwork was willing to sew him up, but with this it was definitely closer to three quarters.  

Having thought this, Danny promptly fell asleep.  

.

The front doors of Clockwork’s tower were not made to slam open, but Danny, fingers of one hand clenched over his chest and still wearing a Far Frozen medical gown, managed anyway.  He was resourceful like that.  

“Clockwork?” he called.  “Clockwork!”  He flew from room to room, only sticking his head in long enough to assess them for Clockwork's presence.  

Finally, he found him.  

“Clockwork!” he shouted, re-energized by the sight.  “Did you steal my heart?  My heart?  My actual heart from my actual chest?”

Clockwork stared blankly at Danny for long enough that his panicked doubled and doubled again.  This was, quite literally, his only lead.

“No,” said Clockwork, finally.  “I stole the replica of your actual heart.  From your chest.”

“That’s the same thing!”

“Is it?” asked Clockwork, smugly.  “After all, you didn’t even notice this one was gone.”

“Oh my god, I cannot believe you did this.”  Friendship plan canceled.  Or something.

“I cannot imagine why,” said Clockwork.  “After all, I told you exactly what I was going to do.  You even gave me permission.”

“I thought you were joking.  Who’s going to think that you’re serious about stealing a friend’s organs?  That’s a joke.  A joke.  Banter, if you would.  Not an invitation to steal my literal heart.”

“Even so, it has been done.”

“Well, can you undo it?  Put it back in?  You didn’t, I don’t know, toss it out with last week’s eggshells or something?  Stick it in the back of the kitchen junk drawer.”

“No, I know exactly where I put it,” said Clockwork.  

“And you can undo it, right?  It’s not, like, expired?”

“It is difficult to get more expired than a ghost’s heart.”  

Danny stared at Clockwork expectantly.  

“Yes, I can undo it.  It will be the work of a moment to return it to its proper place.”  

“Great, so…  Lead on.”  Danny made a forward sweeping motion with both hands.  

Clockwork’s eyes slid back towards his time screen.  “Can it wait?”

“No!”

“You haven’t had it for weeks.  You won’t miss it for a few more minutes.”

“Uh, yes, I will!  You can time travel.  Whatever you’re doing, you can do it later.”

“I suppose,” said Clockwork.  “Very well.  Follow me.”

Clockwork led him back, through narrow halls, into a towering closet with spiral shelves.  It was full of what could only be collectively referred to as stuff.  

“Wow, I wasn’t serious about the junk drawer thing.”

“Oh, please,” said Clockwork.  “This is hardly junk.”

“You’re a hoarder.”

“I resent that appellation,” said Clockwork, flying up and rotating slightly.  Danny kept his feet on the ground, slightly intimidated.

“The only reason you aren’t drowning in all this is because your house doesn’t have to exist in Euclidean space.”

“And yet, I am not drowning in it.” Clockwork continued to float upwards, a faint frown on his face.  

“You do remember where you put it, right?”

“Yes, Daniel,” said Clockwork, visibly rolling his eyes.  “I put it right– Ah.  Interesting.”

“Interesting?  What do you mean interesting?” demanded Danny.  He flew up to hover near Clockwork's shoulder.  “Did something happen to it?  Is it– It's not there?  You said you knew where it was!”

“I said I knew where I put it, which is rather a different thing altogether.”

“No, it isn't!  It's not like it has legs!  It couldn't have wandered off on its oooohhhhhhhh my God, it could have wandered off on its own.  That thing had more ectoplasm in it than a Christmas turkey.”

“It is, in fact,” said Clockwork, “entirely made out of ectoplasm.”

“If it’s moving around like that, can we put it back in?  Would it– Would it try to escape?  Like, escape my chest?  Is that a thing?”

“Unlikely.”

“As unlikely as it starting to move around in the first place?”

“Unlikely,” repeated Clockwork.  

“Where even is it?  Do you know?  Can you tell?  Obviously, your whole ‘I know everything’ shtick is a lie, but can you, like, rewind things so that it’s here?”

“No,” said Clockwork.  “We will just have to look for it.”

“In your hoarder cave?”

“It is not a cave.”

“Ah, but you don't dispute the hoarder part?”  He spun, head over heels, trying and failing to see the entirety of the not-really-a-closet.  “What if there are things in here?  Like, living things?  Could it have been eaten?  By, like… Clockroaches?  Do you have clockroaches here?”

“Media tends to grossly exaggerate both the aggression and size of temporal boggles–”

“They’re real?”

“Why would you ask about them if you didn’t think they were real?”

“I don’t know.  It turns out I don’t think through the things I say to you very well.”

“Clearly.” 

Danny arrested his motion.  “Where do we even start?  This place is huge!”

“That statement assumes that it is still in this particular room.”

“Oh my God.”

“Although, if we are to search this room, it would make the most sense to start from either end and work towards the middle.”

Danny flipped over.  “I can’t even see the other end.”  This was only barely an exaggeration.

“Then we had best get started soon.”

Danny rubbed his face.  “Am I even going to recognize it?  What will it look like?”

“Like the organ it was imitating, of course,” said Clockwork.  “Oh, and don’t touch anything.”

Danny groaned.

.

There was something quivering and green huddled behind a bank of jars.  Was that… it couldn’t be…  He formed a stick out of ice and went to poke it.  

“What are you doing to that poor frog?” asked Clockwork.  

“Holy– It’s a frog?”

“Yes.” 

Danny stared.  Clockwork was covered in splatters and streaks of ectoplasm from head to tail.  

“Why do you– I don’t even want to know.  Did you find it?”

“Yes,” said Clockwork, holding up a jar.  There was…  Well.  It was a heart.  “Are you sure you want it back?  Surely, the sentimental value cannot be that great.”

“Wh– It’s not about the sentimental value.  Open it up, put it back in!”

Clockwork’s sigh was incredibly put-upon.  “Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

He unscrewed the lid of the jar, and the heart, which had up until that point, laid quiescent on the bottom of the jar, flew out, smacking Danny in the face.  

“Augh!”

“Grab it!” 

Danny managed to get a hand around a ventricle, but ectoplasm and ectoplasmic muscle was slippery.  It escaped his grip.  It flopped-flew its way down to the bottom of the genuinely-not-a-closet and made for the door.  Danny dove at it, only to get a faceful of ectoplasm from an artery for his trouble.  

Danny wondered if this was what Skulker felt like.  He let ectoplasm dribble out of his mouth.  

“That, bleh, that tastes like my ectoplasm,” he said.

“That’s because it is,” said Clockwork, tiredly.  “I will refrain from asking you to elaborate on your ectoplasm-tasting experiences.”

“Look, when nature gives you a weapon, and afterlife gives you enemies, you use the weapon.”  He peered cautiously out of the door, wary of being sprayed with what was essentially his own blood once again.  “Where do you think it–”

He got another mouthful of ectoplasm.  

“Bleh,” he said.  

“I don’t suppose you saw it?” asked Clockwork.  “Which way it went, etcetera, etcetera?”

“No,” said Danny.  

“Then this will be a long night.”

“Can’t you just, like, stop time or something?  So it won’t move around while we look”

Clockwork gave him a look.  

“I’ll take that as a no.”

.

“I think,” said Danny, from where he was dangling from the ceiling, a tangle of clock chains wrapped around his ankle, “that we need help.”

“Unfortunately, I must concur,” said Clockwork, who was underneath a pair of couches even he’d been surprised at owning.

“Unless you want to use your totally awesome time powers to find it.”

“No.”

.

“I’m sorry,” said Sam.  “What did you lose?”

“My heart,” said Danny.  “And I didn’t lose it.  Clockwork stole it.”

“Is this some kind of Ice Queen situation here?” asked Sam.  “Are you going to lose all empathy and care for other people?”

“No,” said Danny.  “It’s just the, um, physical thing.  And only my ghost half’s physical thing.  Apparently.  Apparently, the ‘human organs’ I have in my ghost form aren’t functional, unless the functionality is, like, the functionality of being incredibly annoying and spraying ectoplasm everywhere.”

“So, what should we bring for this thing?” asked Tucker.  “Butterfly nets?  Bow and arrow?  Guns?  What’s the endgame?”

“You want to shoot my heart?”

“I don’t know what you want here, dude.  I’m still kind of reeling over the fact that the guy you were hanging out with literally stole your heart.  Do you need someone to give him a stern talking to, make sure he gets you home before curfew?”

“That’s disgusting.  He could probably be my great-great-great-great-great-great–”

In ghost form, Danny didn’t have to breathe all that much, so he was able to go on like that until Sam and Tucker joined forces to stuff socks in his mouth.  

.

“How in the world did things escalate to Clockwork stealing your literal heart?” asked Jazz.  

“Okay, yeah, I see how that’d seem bad, out of context, but you see, it isn’t actually my literal heart–”

.

Danny glared at Clockwork’s idea of ‘help.’ “I bring three completely reasonable and competent people, and you bring them?”

“From my point of view, I am the one with the reasonable and competent people,” said Clockwork, gesturing at the combined forces of Nocturne, Ghost Writer, and Skulker.  “You, meanwhile, have brought three teenagers.”

“Are you really calling Skulker competent?”

“If not, he at least has experience in being outsmarted by you.”

“Hey!”

.

“Alas,” said Tucker, “the heart wants what the heart wants, and what it wants is freedom.”

“Where,” said Sam, kicking at a puddle, “is all this ectoplasm even coming from?”

“Around,” said Danny.  

“Ooh,” said Jazz, “it’s condensing it from the atmosphere?”  She paused.  “What are you all looking at me like that for?  I can have scientific curiosity!”

“I think it’s more because of what’s happened to your hair,” said Ghost Writer.

“What’s happened to my hair?”

“You don’t want to know.”

.

“Danny, I think I hate you,” said Sam.  They were sitting on one of Clockwork’s couches.  Clockwork had a lot of couches.  A fact that Clockwork seemed both bemused and distressed by.  

“Oh, trust me, the feeling is mutual.  As in, I hate me too.”

Clockwork sat down on the couch next to Danny.  “Daniel, I must tell you that while hate is beneath me, I am seriously regretting my earlier decisions.”

“Does that mean that you’re going to time travel back to–”

“Absolutely not.”

Tucker ran past them with a butterfly net, chasing down a green blur.  

“That’s a blob ghost, isn’t it?” asked Sam.  

“I do believe so,” said Clockwork.

“Well,” said Danny.  “At least this all makes us friends, yeah?  Can’t go through something like this without being friends.”  At least he’d get something accomplished with all this insanity.  

“I wouldn’t call myself friends with Skulker.  Or Nocturne.  Acquaintances, more like.”

“I notice you didn’t say anything about Ghost Writer.”

Clockwork shrugged.  “He’s somewhat more tolerable.”

“And me?”

“I suppose.”

The heart fell straight down, into Danny’s lap.

“Are you serious–”

[thejakeslayla]

╰─▸ ❝ three am ❞ - ,, jake sim

pairing bf!jake x gn! reader ୨୧ genre fluff ୨୧ warnings kissing, making out ୨୧ wc 1,4k ୨୧ just a little bit of beta, writer is sleep deprived req; prompt 19; (both waking up in the middle of the night and going on an adventure to find the perfect snack) prompt 9 (taking a photo of them smiling or in their element); prompt 14 (brushing strands of hair away)

as the clock struck 3 a.m., you made the decision to change into more comfortable clothes and head to bed, or at least attempt to do so. it was weekend, nothing to for the following day, yet you couldn't shake the guilt of staying up late. it’s like ruining your sleep schedule on purpose. you had already swapped your jeans for sweatpants, considering that you still needed to eat, and you didn't want to accidentally stain your pjamas.

you had been texting jake an hour ago, but he had stopped responding, leading you to assume he had gone to sleep. as you left your bedroom, a knock on your front door startled you. your eyes widened in fear; it was so late, and you wondered who could be knocking on your door at this hour.

your instinctive reaction was to message jake. you were already holding your phone, so you unlocked it and opened the chat with him. 

your messages filled with panic; "oh my god," "someone is knocking at my door," "what do i do," "jake, oh my god, i'm about to lose it. help."

to your surprise, you received a response, making you think that perhaps jake hadn't gone to bed yet. "just open the door," you gasped at his message.

‘ARE YOU INSANE THIS PERSON WILL PROBABLY KIDNAP ME OR KILL ME I WONT,’ you replied anxiously.

‘y/n.’ ‘open. the. door.’

you didn't understand, but a glimmer of hope made you consider that maybe, just maybe, it was jake. you cautiously approached the door, still fearing the person on the other side, and slowly opened it slightly, allowing you to peek at the intruder. 

the weight on your heart lifted, and the fear disappeared when you saw jake’s silly smile. you loudly groaned and finally opened the door.

"i'm also happy to see you!" he exclaimed, wrapping his arms around you as soon as he could enter your apartment. "i missed you," he added as you hugged him.

"you're insane, and i hate you. you scared me half to death," you said, pretending to be offended.

“you loooooove me,” he teased, swaying your bodies left and right. “anyways, i’m taking you on a date.” 

“a date? it’s late, jake.”

“don’t care, didn’t ask. put your shoes on, please.” 

you sighed, unable to say no to your adorable, puppy-like boyfriend. he was your soft spot, and he knew it, often abusing it, albeit in a loving way. jake was a pure soul, never even considering hurting you in any way. you quickly put on your shoes, and minutes later, you were outside on the quiet streets of seoul. as the world grew quieter, the streets came alive in a different way. the distant traffic hum became a soothing melody, and the cool breeze on your face, jake’s hand holding yours being the only source of warmth.

feeling the chilly air, jake pulled you closer, his body warming yours. soon, you entered a busier street, with neon signs flickering like distant stars, hurting your eyes if you stared too long. some music from nearby clubs revealed cities nightlife.

you walked in silence until jake pulled a pair of airpods out of his pocket and handed one to you. the music was already playing when you comfortably placed it in your ear. it took just one song for jake to start moving in rhythm with the music. taking advantage of the nearly empty street, he turned to you.

"y/n, let's dance," he said, making you chuckle, almost causing your airpod to fall out, which you had to readjust.

“dance?” you answered too late, as he had already moved away and spun you around. you couldn't help but laugh even more. you couldn't refuse; the melody forced you to dance on its own. for the entire song, you danced around, still moving forward. you didn't know where jake was leading you, but you didn't complain.

another song played, and jake began singing and even rapping loudly. you laughed heartily, enjoying the moment as much as you could. when the chorus rolled in, you both sang along, still somehow dancing. jake enthusiastically gestured while singing the lyrics, which only made you laugh even more.

at some point he even let go out of your hand to focus more on the song, soon after you were recording him and taking pictures, you were basically his hypeman, somehow shouting the adlibs. 

at some point, he let go of your hand to focus more on the song. soon, you were recording him and taking pictures, essentially becoming his hype person, enthusiastically shouting the adlibs. his moves were smooth and pleasant to watch, and you weren't laughing at his dancing skills; you were genuinely impressed. but when he suddenly twerked, you couldn't hold back your laughter and had to stop, nearly collapsing from laughter. 

he laughed alongside you. "please, don't tell me you got that on video," jake said after a minute or two of both of you laughing.

“i got it perfectly, don’t worry.” 

from an outside perspective, you probably looked like two idiots, dancing and singing to songs no one else could hear, laughing as if it were the funniest thing on earth. however, you couldn't be bothered to think about other people; it felt like it was just you, jake, and the music, creating cherished memories together.

you both gradually calmed down, still swaying to the beats as you walked. then, jake pulled you into a 7-eleven, mentioning that he was hungry.

“what are we feeling like eating?” he asked as you strolled through the instant noodles aisle. you quickly grabbed a pack for yourself, and jake followed suit. the argument at the self-checkout couldn't be avoided, but your boyfriend eventually won, claiming that he was the one treating you on this date and that he was the best boyfriend who needed to pay.

soon, you were sitting outside, near the microwaves and the self-cook ramen station. jake had you fill your cup with water first, and you didn't argue against his "best boyfriend" claims because, after all, they were true. as you waited for your cups to be filled, you swayed your hips to the music still playing in your airpods. jake quickly noticed and flashed you a bright smile.

the lyrics expressed a mutual desire in a singer's relationship, willing to do anything for their significant other. it was slow and perfect for the moment. you looked into jake's eyes, focusing more on the song's meaning. in the meantime, he placed his hands on your hips, swaying with you. you felt incredibly safe and loved in this precious moment between the two of you. a romantic song played, and you both gazed at each other with overwhelming love surrounding you. 

you couldn't resist leaning in and asking for a kiss. the tenderness in it felt different, and as his lips met yours, you were instantly flooded with butterflies in your stomach. it felt intimate and more passionate than your previous kisses. unconsciously, you wrapped your hands around his neck as you continued to sway gently, the loud beep from the machine preventing you from having a full-on make-out session in front of the store and the unfortunate cashier who could witness it all.

as you pulled away, you smiled at jake, feeling an abundance of happiness and love that seemed boundless and uncontrollable. both of you turned your attention to your cups, mixing the noodles. soon, you were seated, both slurping on the ramen.

“‘so good,” jake said, with his mouth full. “it hits different during nights like this.” he added after swallowing. 

you nodded, your cheeks full of noodles. he laughed at your adorable appearance, and you responded with a puzzled head tilt. "nothing, you're just cute," he said, perfectly understanding you without the need for words.

you swallowed your noodles, not responding verbally. instead, you reached out and brushed strands of his hair away as you saw him struggling to keep them out of his eyes, his hands occupied.

you both continued to eat as if nothing had happened, but jake's heart was undoubtedly racing from your swift action, his cheeks reddened, and his eyes widen. both of you were certain that this wasn't a fleeting relationship. this late-night date had made you both realise that this was something more, that you both loved each other unconditionally, and that you were both serious about your relationship, wanting to be together until the end.

requests: open; prompt list © 2023 — all rights reserved to user thejakeslayla, please do not steal, plagiarise or translate any of my work !

[kairiscorner]

the poll has spoken.

miggy and his feelings for you. (when he catches you smiling because of someone else)

summary: what's the next step after telling someone you like them? usually, stuff like that ends in rejection–but... you didn't reject miguel when he finally expressed how he felt for you. what's next after this? he can only handle his need to love you and declare that you're his and he's yours so much before he... before he breaks.

pairing: miguel o'hara x gn!reader

genre: a bit of angst and fluff 🫂🫂🫂

word count:

a/n: i'm writing this on the date of my blog's second monthsary, HEHE, this is kind of a belated monthsary gift (or early third monthsary gift~~~) for my miguel babes out there, y'all know who you are 🤩 anyway, hope you guys enjoy !!

the rapid palpitations of his heartbeat could still be felt in every fiber of his bones, of his muscles, as he reminisced that moment when he mustered up all the courage he had and breathed out those three, four words he's been dying to utter to you, for you to hear, listen, and sink in your heart as he tells you in such a soft, sentimental tone that he can't help but let out.

"estoy enamorado de ti."

"i'm in love with you, i love you."

he has never been able to recover from the shocks and tingles sent up his spine and tickling the back of his brain every time silence settles in and consumes him. the silence is a perfect, beautiful torment for miguel; because it is the silence that reminds him of how you held him dearly, teased him for his "dramatic", "extra" showcases of affection towards you, and that he remembers every bit of how he feels around you, the love of his life. you've always seen him as a very close friend–like an annoying, overprotective brother at times in the past–but those feelings have thus shifted; and is miguel ever so grateful for that happening.

he's been so scared and lost–like a child who's afraid of the dark wandering in a pitch black room, calling out for help–he was always unsure of what to do with these secret feelings he harbored for you. he thought it'd be better to bury them, to never let you know and take that secret of his to the grave; but he knew he would forever regret that. sometimes, wanting to love and wanting to protect the one you love are two very conflicting ideas–thet don't always end in mutual agreements. and ever since you declared that you reciprocated his feelings and loved him back through your actions and words... he has never felt an even greater need to love and protect you.

miguel's got a new role in your life now, to be the man who will protect and take care of you, ensure you don't go a single day without feeling loved, that you live every day, every hour of your life being as you are–happy and comfortable with yourself, hopefully with the addition of him in the picture. miguel trusts you among everyone else in his whole life–you are the only friend he has that's stuck with him this whole time and still puts up with him, despite his hard-headedness, and does the unthinkable: love him the same way he loves you. he couldn't ask for any more, really, when everything he's ever wanted in life had been granted in the brief moment you two shared when he swore to you he'd work on being such a pain in the ass for you and not be a selfish prick.

he's spent every waking hour searching for you, wanting to hold you close to him in private and smother you with all the love and affection in the multiverse. you have to understand, now, that miguel has never felt this compelled to be with anyone before in his entire life–this is his first time wanting someone with such devotion and affection behind that desire, it's a desire with depth, with genuine emotions; and it sometimes terrifies him. he doesn't know what to do with these feelings, save for acting accordingly to what they compel him to do, so long as it is within bounds of what you want and what you're okay with. however, there are times that those feelings of his get... a bit out of hand, may come off as a bit too strong. there are some things that his feelings compel him to do without him even being able to think of the consequences until it already happened and the damages have already been done.

he feels his heart get pierced by a sharp dagger, he feels like he's getting light-headed as he watches from the monitor on his screen that beautiful, all-too familiar face that he never wants to wake up without seeing as the first person to greet him in the morning, giggle and look so close in proximity with this... random person. miguel swears he's never seen this person before, this person's not a friend of yours he knows about, nor a relative, he can tell that much–they're someone he doesn't know about; a total enigma.

and that scares miguel, because he has no idea just how happy this person makes you.

he feels a twinge of venomous envy strike at his heart, and he feels his pulse quicken a bit when he witnesses the corners of your pretty lips curve up into a smile after that person told you a funny joke, said a nice thing to you today, or... maybe... no way, you wouldn't fall for their flirting, would you? miguel asks lyla to run a background check on the person close to you, and lyla reassures miguel after doing so that this person wouldn't harm you–they were just a 'really close friend of yours'.

"and you're positively certain about that?" miguel asked her as his eyes remained glued on your delightful figure, smiling all the while as this person continued to make you all happy and a little brighter than you seemed before. he hated it. he hated it because some random person was doing his job for him, to make you the happiest you've ever been–but who was he to pry you away from your friends? he loved you and trusted your friends, that he knew of–but this person, he has no idea of who he is–and this frightens him because... he might actually lose you to them, he thinks.

"miguel, i've never heard you use those two words together in one sentence before. you're anxious about something, aren't you?" lyla asks miguel with a curious look on her face, prompting miguel to bare his fangs as he furrowed his eyebrows together and glared at the AI assistant. "just answer me." "alright, grouchy, yes–yes, i'm positively certain this person has no intention of hurting them." lyla replied as miguel placed his palm on his face and rubbed his eyes clean of the frustration he was experiencing right then and there, only for it to return on his face with a scorching heat filling his frame the longer he thought about you smiling around this person.

miguel turned the monitors off and decided to distract himself with some missions, though you never left that spot in his mind and heart once as he fought anomalies and tracked the statuses of other universes. his other teammates believed he was acting pretty strangely whenever he'd go out and fight the anomalies; he'd act more brutal and less cautious than he usually would, bringing the anomaly to the brink of death at one point until peter b and jess had to intervene and contained the anomaly for him.

miguel had to sit the next mission out, and so, he was holed up in his office again, begrudgingly so. "either you tell us what's going on, or you're not coming on anymore missions." "no, that's stupid, i will be going on the next o–" "you're posing as a threat to the anomalies, a lethal one, and that's not like you." jess berated miguel like a mother chiding her son for having a temper tantrum. miguel sighed and leaned his head against his hand, his elbow propped up on the control panel to support his head. jess sighed and peter b entered the room once things cooled down. "hey, so... what's his deal?" "no clue." jess replied to peter b with a shrug as miguel slumped over on his desk, sighing to himself repeatedly as thoughts of you refused to leave his mind.

you were like an endless memory miguel wanted to relive forever, and he never wanted you to leave his mind, actually–but he knew he'd go crazy without properly talking to you about this, but the thought of that alone was killing him right now. he felt so helpless and pathetic, he couldn't even talk to the love of his life about what he was so afraid of... and now, the others had to pick up after his scattered, broken pieces. "what if we have them talk to him?" "with him being in this state? yeah, no, not the best idea." "c'moooon, they're the end all, be all solution to his little slump. i know, because mj is–" "alright, alright, i get it; save your hopeless devotion for mary jane later. call them up now, we need to go on the mission, parker." jess told peter as he smiled and contacted you to come over to miguel's office right then and there, with the very important reminder that miguel was: 'in a terrible slump and needs some love and affection to be cured.'

after a few minutes, miguel heard the doors to his office slide open, and the clacking of a couple of familiar heels were heard; before you could even speak, miguel immediately knew it was you. call it creepy or weird if you want, but miguel can't help but memorize every detail of you, because it's the mere thought of you that keeps him going–but the thought of you... leaving him, that's enough to stop him from even wanting to go on. miguel spoke out your name in a gentle whisper, but afterward, he immediately shied away from you–hiding his face in his hands again as you approached him.

"mig, what's wrong?" you asked him, and the sound of your melodic voice filling his ears made him go mad with affection for you but also ridden with guilt all over again as he remembered just how angry he was at that person making you smile and... at you, for being happy with someone who wasn't even him. of course, that anger towards you fizzled out quickly, but he can't help but feel awful that he can't be fine with letting you be happy with someone who isn't even him. "...nothing's wrong." he lied in a soft grumble. you folded your arms over your chest and raised an eyebrow up at him. "right, well, you looking like a sad, droopy-eared dog while hunching your back and burying your face in your palms when i'm not looking is the definition of something being wrong." you pointed out, making miguel bury his face in his hands even more at how right you were. "what are you even doing here?" "peter called me." "that pendejo... well, why'd you agree to come anyway?" he asked you as he turned to look at you with softened eyes, eyes that appeared to be on the brink of sobbing.

you pulled up a chair and sat close to miguel, so close that your knees were touching his own–making him look up at you in surprise. "because you've been avoiding me all week." you remind him, and that very fact made miguel tense up. he gradually turned his head to look at you with an evidently pensive look on his face, which was rare for him since he didn't really show much emotion... except to you, his beloved partner. being his partner gave you the privilege to see all sides of him–the good and bad sides–whether he likes to or not; and having been together with miguel for a while and being his friend for the longest time, you could tell something was wrong. "i'm... sorry, i'm just..." miguel muttered under his breath with a sigh as he rubbed his eyes again with his hand. you gently took his other hand in your own and interlocked hands with him, making him jolt up and turn to look at you in surprise.

you sighed and ran the pad of your thumb over the back of his big hand, thinking of what to tell him as you just held on to him closer and tighter. "is it about my friend?" you asked him softly as miguel tensed up even worse again. miguel's lower lip trembled and he took in a deep breath. "...n-no, why would... well, o-okay, yes, it is. h-how'd you..." "you were always the jealous type, mig." you tell him with a grin as miguel looked down in shame, but you placed your other hand on the side of his face and lifted his head up a bit to look at him. "but, i know you're not like this to hurt them or me. you love me, right? well... i definitely love you, too, unconditionally." you tell him in a whisper as you bring your face closer to his own shy one. you could see the signs that he was getting more and more flustered and embarrassed. "mi vida, i... don't deserve you. who wants such a jealous, overbearing, overprotective guy as their lover? i-if i can't trust them with you, then... can i even trust myself to make you happy?" miguel rambled as he felt his breath getting ragged and his grip around your hand tighten.

you leaned over and kissed miguel's plush lips, effectively answering his question. "yes, miguel–you are trustworthy, you are worthy of having me." you reassured him. you pressed your lips against his again, making him moan gently through your kiss and mumbling your name. "cariño... i'm sorry, still... i'm just... just really jealous, and i... wanna make you the happiest person in the world." he muttered to you, sighing. you wrapped your arms around his neck and held him close, patting his shoulder and shushing him. "you already do though... miggy, i want nobody but you, you and your sweet, jealous ass." you plant a kiss on the top of his head as you said that, making him even more heated up in the face and shy. "i can assure you, nothing bad's going on between us–they told me a few funny jokes that made me grin, but... i smile even wider when you're being all adorable like this with me. they're just a friend, and you're... the love of my life." you told him with a smile as miguel looked up at you, his hazel brown eyes gazing up at your own and concentrating on your pretty orbs.

"it's okay to be jealous, but... know that in every universe, i'll choose you and only you as my lover. you're perfect, miggy, you're all i want and need." and the minute you tell him all that... he feels his world slowly come together again, and his mood instantly lifting. he gently wrapped his arms around your waist and pulling you closer to him, making him lowly sigh in relief. "and you already know i want and need you the most... no soporto estar sin ti amor... i can't live another day not being with you..." he murmured to you as an oath, an oath to not hurt you ever again, to not let his emotions overwhelm him and make you feel forgotten or guilty over something you didn't do, and... an oath to you that he loves you more than anything or anyone he's ever loved before.

he can't stop being jealous on instinct, he'll sometimes get insecure and anxious about himself, but... he loves you, that much, he knows; and you... you love him dearly, too. he just needs you to keep going and to keep feeling worthy and happy; you are enough for him, and he will always, always let you know that you are all he loves and cares about, in his own little and big ways and words–because... you love him like that, he makes you happy like that, and you couldn't ask for more.

tags !! @miguelswifey04 @hearts4gabri @hisachuu @wreakingmarveloushavok @fictarian @yuridopted0 @simsrandomstuff @luvstarrstruck @popeheywardssecretgf @meeom @arachnoia @melovetitties @fable-library @ophanimgold @smokeywhalee @capnshtfce

[missmarveledsblog]

IDiots (dean winchester x reader )

Summary : when reader becomes the victim of a entity Dean is forced to admit feeling that he thought he could keep away in fear of being hurt .

Warning : little angsty mostly fluffy

Shit hitting the fan was an understatement of the century . The boys stood stuck to the ground watching as it loomed over her . He knew it was his fault , he knew they told him it was bad idea and yet he knew better . He knew this stuff more than they did or so he thought. Now he stood frozen while his brother screamed for it to leave her alone , while the woman he's loves in now on the ground out cold while evil lurks over her and it was all his fault . They warned him a week ago and he didn't listen.

It was always the same on case sam and Y/N sat in the kitchen of the bunker laptops on and researching away . " so the story goes a woman Jane Howard was killed by some dude one night , a man by John.. Smith really this has got to be fake .. anyway he was in love with Jane but never told her went on rampage in his madness killing single women some say he now attaches to a woman and if her love doesn't announce himself to her he take her soul to live with him for eternity " she couldn't help laugh at the ridiculousness of it all . " hey maybe I can get slash to admit he knows and loves me " she snorted. " or someone else would grow balls and do it " sam muttered shooting his brother a quick glance . " awh Sammy I love you too .. not like that though but we have our pact still " she teased . " pact? " . " if we're both single by 50 I marry her " sam smiled seeing the jealous glare from his brother . " yup have in writing too , I mean it's on a beer mat but still OK I need to pack up I'll meet you guys in an hour " she giggled heading off to her room . " you think maybe we should ask her sit this out giving she probably going to die before you admit your feelings to her " sam mused . " she not into me dude so let's drop this " he huffed walking off to his own room . " idiots I'm surrounded by idiots " sam face palmed .

Walking out she was standing looking at the brothers pouting up at them. " cas will be fine " Dean rolled his eyes . " but he's a baby " she whined . " he older than three of us combined ... plus Bobby's got him " . " I miss him already " she pouted making his heart beat faster . " go give him another hug " he smiled making her bolt into the bunker . " now if I asked that I'd be told to suck it up " sam teased . " hey Bobby give her special treatment too , plus she clearly pining for the big baby " he pointed out . " well then maybe he'll do what you can't but cas isn't the one she pining for i can definitely tell you that much " sam shot back . " he's a bit better but still sad " she sighed getting into the impala cutting dean asking what his brother ment by that . " come on we can get you some of those candy bars you like on the way " sam smiled brightly at her . " its like your in love with cas " Dean rolled his eyes . " I love all you guys .. some more than other " she whispered looking at him before getting into the car . " idiots " sam exhaled before following.

Pulling up to the motel instead of waking the sleeping woman Dean decided she was too cute to disturb only for him to lift her and carry her in leaving his brother to carry the bags . " yeah course I got it " the younger winchester huffed . Not that his brother listened nor did he care when she held on tight nuzzling her head into his chest letting out a content sigh . Maybe she could love him back like he loved her but then again the self doubt kicked in . She was light and he was just the darkest of dark . A woman like her couldn't love him. She was too special and he was the boy who couldn't even make his own father proud no matter what he did . No a girl like her was made for his brother . Caring sweetheart who would make sure everyone was OK before herself . A smile and laugh that could brighten anyone's day no he would never have a woman love the likes of him , he was sure of it . Placing her gently on the bed he rushed out of the room, only just as he did she smiled in her sleep calling his name . " idiot " sam huffed placing the bags at the near by table .

Driving to the house another woman losing her life what perplexed then was the man admitted he love her yet she still died . " oh no " she gasped . " what is it " sam turned checking her over . " she didn't love him back its why she died " she sniffled . "Great so it like a true loves first kiss but with a entity " Dean growled . " we'll get him don't worry " she patted his shoulder. " hey why don't you sit this one out " sam turned to her. " yeah I mean if he latches on I don't think we could get slash here on time " Dean joked making her eyes roll . " he not my true love though " she blew her nose. "Well im sure cas can come soon then " he didn't mean for it to come out snappy . " you think I love cas like that " she snorted . " I mean your always cuddling him , hate leaving him and well i don't know " he shrugged. " i cuddle sammy too and bobby when he lets me " she deadpanned which wasn't a lie she was a cuddler . " your not in love with cas " he asked. " i love him but not in love with him " she murmured . " idiots " sam grumbled .

they went after the entity it keep messing with her locking her into rooms or pushing her little things it considered as warning leading the brothers to take her from the house and back to the motel. " your sitting this one out " dean slammed the door while sam checked the small cuts the litter her hands after she was pushed into glass. "i'm not letting a bully win " she growled. " your not going " sam said putting the gauze on her hand . " i'm going and where going to kick his ass, i'm going to have a shower " she got off the bed grabbing her clothes before heading to the bathroom . " you need to either tell her or make her sit this one out " sam waited til the shower was on . " why don't you tell her , it's clear your the one she loves " he shot back . " i love her like a sister god you are so blind to what's in front of you , you need to get her to sit it out, he's already feeding on you and she getting hurt " he said holding up the glass shard filled dish . " a guy like me doesn't get with a girl like that ok i am sick of you pushing this " he growled slamming the door . only for sam to look up and see her standing there heartbroken hearing his words. " he didn't mean it the way you think he did " he began but she just grabbed her coat and shoes before heading out the door herself storming past the older winchester . " idiots " sam yelled out at them .

she knew it was stupid , something she was completely regretting the minute she stepped in the house but ever since they took on this case everything went to shit . Maybe a broken heart could take on a broken heart was her stupid reasoning . His words replayed over in her head making her head reel . That was til she was locked in a room trying to get out til she was knocked across the room her phone hitting the ground as dean number came up and answer , he could here her groans and followed by something he could only describe as a disembodied growl . " shit we're coming sweetheart " he called before the line went completely dead. now here they stood stuck while the entity stood over her body sucking and draining the life from her . The fear of losing her was growing stronger then the fear of rejection . "please stop ok take me , i know you don't but take me i will take her place , they world can't lose a woman like that , a woman who would starve rather then let someone go hungry , one who cries at stupid video's online because someone is sad and she can't help , i'd rather you take me then take the woman i love out from this world" he finally felt the words spewn only for her to sit up gasping grabbing the pistol and shooting the entity and the two men being able to move . " i'm sorry " was all she said not that he cared he was stunned , knowing the only reason she was talking now was because in some divine madness meant she loved him like really loved him . she couldn't get another word out before she felt him pull her up and smash his lips to her . " finally ... idiots " sam smiled looking at the pair.

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 7

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, dealer!ellie, LOSER!ELLIE, cursing, ANGST, use of marijuana and alcohol, brief mention of death, descriptions of a weapon (it's just ellie's switchblade), sexual speech and content, brief mention of violence, brief description of homophobia, ellie's POV, minors do not interact

word count: 3.5k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

“Ellie, seriously, calm down. Also, can you hand me the fucking joint already?” 

Dina watches as Ellie paces back and forth across the living room of the apartment Ellie shared with Jesse. She’d come back early from her Electrical Engineering Design class after silently storming out a mere 15 minutes into the lecture. She had her Particle Physics class in less than an hour, but she had very little intention of attending. 

She’d even bailed on making a quick stop at Ruston Coffee in order to reclaim the jacket she’d lent to Daniela. She had four unread texts from her, but she ignored them. 

“Dude, I just—” Ellie starts. 

“I know,” Dina replies. “But can you blame her?” 

Ellie doesn’t reply, instead angrily groaning as she plops down next to Dina on the couch. She hands Dina the joint, which was already half-burnt. 

“God, at least ash it first,” Dina complains, taking it from her and flicking the dusty remains into an ashtray on the coffee table. “Anyway, what the fuck is she supposed to do? Not move on from you?” 

“No, but—” 

“You’re only this mad because Abby Anderson’s the one she was seeing before you,” Dina says before taking a hit of the joint. “I mean, you’d still be irritated if it was someone else. But now, your ego is a little bruised.” 

“Oh, shut the fuck up.” Ellie scoffs. “And she and I weren’t seeing each other, we—” 

“It’s been two fucking years. You need to stop saying that shit.” Dina interrupts, getting exasperated. 

“We literally weren’t—” 

“Who the fuck cares, Ellie?”

“D—” Ellie attempts, but Dina continues. 

“She was in love with you, and you were so fucking in love with her. And don’t try to pull that shit with me, saying that you weren’t in love with her.” Dina adds, seeing that Ellie was about to interrupt once more. “Everyone saw it, and everyone knew it. Fuck, even Joel saw it, and it’s Joel.” 

Ellie says nothing, choosing to stare intensely at her fists. They were turning white from how hard she was clenching them in agitation. 

It had been so long since she’d seen your smile, the honest and genuine kind that you used to flash at her countless times. She hadn’t seen it since before your cousin Rafael passed away. The way it’d adorned your face so naturally just now, it broke something in her today the moment she glanced your way. Something that she’d hastily patched up after you cut her off completely. And for Abby Anderson to be the reason for that smile… 

Dina purposely blowing smoke in Ellie’s face wakes her up from her reverie. 

“The fuck, D…” Ellie complains, coughing and fanning a hand in her face to clear the smoke. 

“Jesse and I love you very much,” Dina continues, ignoring her curses. “But to be honest, we’ve kind of been pissed with you for a while now.” 

Ellie’s eyes shoot up to frown at her. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

Dina sighs. 

“We love her a lot too, you know. And we miss her. The past year, she’s pulled away from us because of you. And we would have pushed, but she asked us not to. She asked us not to choose and to just keep being friends with you like normal.” 

“I—“ Ellie stutters. “I didn’t know that.” 

“Because she told us not to tell you.” Dina sighs. “Even after you hurt her, she still thought about you. She knew how much we mean to each other, and she didn’t want to get in the way of that. And that’s why she hasn’t told either me or Jesse what happened between you two when you took her home at the end of that summer.” 

Ellie puts her head in her hands, recalling that drive. That day rattled in her mind constantly over the past year or so. She’d tried consistently to repress it at first, but it was all cemented in her mind: your nervous twitching and fidgeting, the way your lips trembled when you spoke, the redness of your eyes as you fought not to cry. Eventually, she gave up trying to forget it all; deep down, she knew she deserved to live with the guilt. 

“Fuck.” Ellie sighs. 

“Yeah.” 

They sit in silence for a few moments as Dina finished the rest of the joint, eventually putting it out on the ashtray. 

“So,” Dina finally speaks. “You gonna tell me what made her break up with you?” 

Ellie sighs. 

“I don’t think you really wanna know, D.” She mutters. 

“You know,” Dina says. “It’s not really fair that you’ve had me and Jesse update you nonstop the past year on what’s been going on with her, but then you won’t tell either of us what went down.” 

“It’s just…” Ellie continues, thinking. “I know you both think I was real shitty for what I did to her. And I’m not saying you shouldn’t think that. But I don’t want you both to think that I’m a complete and total asshole.” 

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You are a complete and total asshole.” Dina shrugs. 

“Oh, you dick.” Ellie says, smacking Dina’s arm a little too hard. 

“Ow!” Dina complains, rubbing the spot where Ellie hit her. “We don’t all go to the gym religiously, you know. Some of us are delicate!” 

“Pussy.” Ellie chuckles. 

Dina rolls her eyes before getting up from the couch. 

“Anyway, get your shit together, Williams. I gotta go.” She says. “Got class in about 20 minutes.” 

“Skip it.” 

“No. Go to your next class, Els.” 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Ellie says dismissively, brushing her off. 

Dina said her goodbyes and waved before leaving the apartment, locking the door behind her. 

Ellie sat with her thoughts for a moment before getting up to walk to the kitchen. She grabs a mug from the cabinets, one decorated with a red-winged blackbird on one side and a sandhill crane on the other. After she nearly fills it to the brim with whiskey, she begins drinking it impatiently as she makes her way into her bedroom. 

She places her now half-empty mug on her bedside table before plopping down onto her bed. Not bothering to remove her dirty Converse, she stares up at the prickly, white ceiling. 

Abby Anderson? Why her? 

Her tattooed arm was positioned above her forehead while the other laid on her side, her old, trusty switchblade suddenly in her hand. She starts playing with it mindlessly as thoughts of you swim inside her head. 

When the fuck did she start seeing her again? She didn’t even like Anderson that much… 

Ellie’s mind was a battlefield. She begins recalling memories of you when you’d talk about Abby Anderson, trying to discern the level of attraction you had for her from the bashful looks on your face and the dreaminess in your voice. At the same time, she was trying to push away her own emotion from those memories: the forced smile she’d give you when you brought Anderson up, the way she bit her tongue from unleashing nasty, sarcastic retorts about her, the seething rage she felt as she stormed away from you the first night she dropped you off at Anderson’s dorm. 

She didn’t even… She only slept with her once…  

Ellie thinks about that evening, when she watched you getting ready. She tried desperately to shut out the images of your tender eyes begging for her approval, your messy hair cascading down as you’d taken it out of its bun, every curve of your body that she was allowed a glimpse of when she’d helped you dress, your lips…

Anderson was just some fucking hook-up, I know she was… 

Ellie remembers miserably how she waited until you’d completely turned away to watch how mesmerizing you looked as you ascended the steps to Anderson’s dorm. Ellie remembers the disappointed look you had on your face, crest-fallen that she’d kept you at arms-length the rest of the evening. She remembers wanting desperately to call out your name, stop you from walking through the door, and claim you for herself. She remembers nearly doing so, but her courage had not moved swiftly enough. 

I fucked her hundreds more times… There’s no way Anderson is pleasing her like I did… I’m the one who knows how to… 

Ellie begins speculating on what you’ve been doing hanging around Anderson again. There’s no way that you were just friends. She sees the way Anderson swaggers when they occupy the gym together, her flirty smirk as she greets people as she walks down hallways. Ellie recognizes another lesbian player when she sees one, and she knew for a fact how popular Anderson was with other girls. And more than anything, Ellie knows how beautiful you are. She knows that anyone within five feet of you would be delusional not to want a chance. 

Anderson’s not her type… Anderson is not her fucking type… What the hell is she doing? She can do a whole lot fucking better… 

Ellie’s thoughts unravel as she wonders about what Anderson was saying that was making you laugh so much. She obsesses over the way you were touching her arm, how your fingers brushed over her muscled bicep. She torments herself about what you were letting her do to you at this very moment. 

I just… I just fucking saw her a couple of days ago… She’s single, she looked fucking single… 

Were you spending the night at her place this evening? Were you all dolled up today just to see her? Is Anderson taking you out on a date tonight or is she bringing you straight to her bedroom? Has she touched you already today? Has she kissed those cherry-flavoured lips of yours once more yet? Is she lifting your dress over your head or are you doing it for her? Is she kissing your neck as her fingers make their way down into your underwear to— 

Ellie sits up all of a sudden, yelling in frustration and hurling her switchblade across the room. She breathes heavily as she stares at her knife now fastened securely into the drywall, halfway stuck resulting from a throw a little too vigorous. 

“Fuck me.” Ellie huffs, disgruntled, not by the damaged wall, but by the jealousy smoldering within her. 

Why? 

Ellie picks up her half-empty mug of booze and chugs it. As droplets of whiskey dribble down her chin, she glances at the painted birds on her now-empty mug. 

Joel had bought it during a trip to a thrift store when she was 14 after she’d begged him to get it for her. Every time before the school year started, she’d always be sure to pack it to take with her, a piece of home. It was her favourite mug and it reminded her of her father. 

She missed him. She wished she was back home in Jackson with him right now, away from these problems. Life felt so much more simple when it was just her and Joel, just the two of them against the rest of the world. But she was no longer 14 and no longer an innocent. 

Ellie sighs. She deliberates for a moment or two. Maybe she could call Joel, tell him what was going on. He knew her best, besides Dina and Jesse. He usually steered her in the right direction, whether it was in a way she initially agreed with or not. 

In the end, Ellie decides against it. Explaining lesbianism to a well-meaning but clueless 60-something-year-old man was hard enough. Having to illustrate the current state of her love life? Ellie didn’t have the time or patience to describe to her father how lesbian situationships worked, much less what a “situationship” was. She’d give him a brain aneurysm within thirty seconds of her explanation. 

She also thinks back to the last conversation she had with Joel about you. He’d given her yet another caring but stern lecture before she headed back to campus for this school year. She knows deep down exactly how her father felt about you. Is that what she wanted to hear right now? 

Ellie lets herself fall back onto the bed, pulling her phone out of her pocket once her head hit her pillow. She swipes away yet another text from Daniela without bothering to skim it and opens up Instagram. Almost instinctively, she switches over from her main account to a separate one.  

For the first three months after you and Ellie fell out, you had her number and all her socials blocked. She hadn’t exactly tried to reach out to you during that time, but she hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to lurk. She’d treated it like she was defusing a bomb: she’d delicately open up social media, hastily type in your name, only to be abruptly greeted with blank screens. She wasn’t surprised. But whether out of pure curiosity or masochism, she’d continued this routine of searching your username on different platforms just to stare at nothing for a couple of minutes. 

Ellie wasn’t sure what had suddenly prompted you to one day unblock her from everything. For a while, she waited to see if this meant anything, if you were going to reach out to her in some kind of way. But after a few days of nothing, she accepted the continued, albeit unblocked, silence. She wasn’t naive; she never expected you to come back to her. At least she could still snoop in peace. 

Though not exactly adept with social media, Ellie wasn’t stupid. When she wanted to look at your Instagram page, she did so through a fake, secret account that she’d made solely for that purpose. It felt pitiful to do so, at least at first. But she’d known you had no intention of speaking to her again, and therefore no longer needed to impress you; so she swallowed the feelings of shame and self-disgust every time. 

Switching over to a blank account with the user name “br!ck_master2013” that has 2 followers (both of which were bot profiles) and was following 0 accounts, Ellie types in your username by heart in the search bar. She scans your Instagram page for any changes. You don’t update it often; your last post is from early the previous summer and is just pictures of your family cat Clementine who had passed away. 

A purple and orange circle dances around your icon, indicating you’ve posted something on your story within the last 24 hours. She let out an agitated breath before pressing her thumb onto the mirror selfie you’d set as your profile picture. 

There are four stories: the first is from 22 hours ago and was a fan art post of a video game she knew you liked, the second is from 18 hours ago and was a picture of the mocha frappe Dina had gotten you the day prior with a caption thanking and tagging Dina, the third is from 15 hours ago of a post that read, “Don’t Want To See Trans People? Gouge Out Your Eyes” (prompting her to chuckle to herself), and the fourth is from this morning. Ellie’s breathing hitches. 

It was a selfie you’d taken in your bathroom before you left for class. You’d captioned it with “fuck mondays but at least i’m cute,” an understatement in Ellie’s eyes. She was only permitted a minute to gaze at you in person earlier today, and it was from several feet away. A picture doesn’t amount to the real thing, but at least she can fully drink you in with her ocean green eyes this time, completely at her leisure. 

You were wearing that same pretty, floral sundress, the sweater you were wearing earlier missing from your ensemble in the photograph. She doesn't recognize the dress, so she figures it must be new. Ellie thinks it looked like it was made for you, the way it fits you so perfectly. 

She then dares to stare at your face. Even after all these years, she revels in how flawlessly you were always able to have your makeup complement your appearance. It was a gift, really, how you used colours to, not create your beauty, but accentuate it. And you seemed to have gotten even better at it now. 

Ellie keeps taking in your image for what feels like a hundred years until your Instagram story closes out on her. She blinks and then sighs. 

There’s no way Anderson hasn’t made a move on her already. 

Ellie reaches underneath her bed and grabs her laptop. She knows what she was about to do pushed her even further into loser lesbian territory, but she had passed the point of caring long, long ago. She opens up her laptop and clicks on the Spotify application on her desktop. 

The window pops up to display a few recommended albums and playlists. Scrolling past her most recently listened to song (“Novacane” by Frank Ocean), she clicks on the little icon on the top right that says “Friend Activity.” A sidebar opens up to reveal icons of a handful of Ellie’s friends. And of you. 

When you’d blocked Ellie from everything, she guessed correctly that you wouldn’t think of blocking her on something as trivial as a music app. Most people in your generation didn’t really pay much attention to these stupid little details. But Ellie did. And she was thankful you didn’t. 

Ignoring what songs the rest of her friends were listening to at the moment, she looked for your icon to see what you were playing. According to the tiny grey letters next to your picture, you were listening to “decode” by some artist named Sabrina Carpenter. 

Ellie chuckles quietly. You had a rather wide variety in music taste, always having been musically inclined. But you weren’t immune to enjoying and fixating on what she would call “generic, top 40 pop straight girl music.” She’d tease you about this relentlessly, to which you would respond by turning the song up even louder and belting your heart out to it. Even though it was in the act of defying her, Ellie always noted internally what a pretty voice you had when you sang. 

She figures that this artist was your current new fixation. She grabs her spare earphones from the drawer of her bedside table, plugging them into her laptop. She clicks on the song you're still listening to and lets it play. As the song progresses, Ellie feels her heart sink. 

♫ You're good at the fallin', not the stayin' there / You're good at the givin' too much, then gettin' scared

You're good at impersonating someone who cares / And you had me for a minute there ♫

Ellie shifts her laptop to one side and rolls to the other, allowing the music to continue in her ears. 

♫ But now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night 

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone ♫ 

Ellie sighs, hooking an arm underneath her pillow, clutching it tightly as she clenches her jaw. 

♫ There's a weight off my shoulders now that I don't chase you / Bein' myself, did that emasculate you? 

Learnin' from you that I can walk away too / And you had me for a minute too ♫

Ellie frowns, closing her eyes, allowing the song to envelop her in shame. 

♫ Now I wonder why / I let your confusion keep me up at night 

I'm so tired / Reread every single undertone and I—♫ 

“Yo, Williams—” A voice interrupts with a knock on her bedroom door. 

Ellie shoots up from her bed, earphones tearing out from her ears. 

“What?” Ellie answers, irritated. 

Jesse’s head pokes itself through the doorway. His expression turned into amusement once he saw hers of annoyance.  

“Oh, sorry, dude. Did I wake you?” 

“Yeah, but it’s fine,” Ellie lies, relaxing a little and tapping the spacebar to pause the song. “What’s up?” 

Jesse scans her features further. He took a step in, leaning against the doorframe. 

“You alright?” 

“All good, dude,” She says, closing her laptop and hopping off her bed. “Was just having a bad dream.” 

Jesse considers this when his eyes wander to Ellie’s knife sticking out of the wall. 

“Bro.” He says, pointing to it. 

“It was a really bad dream, alright?” She shrugs. 

“Els,” He groans. “If we don’t get our security deposit back—“ 

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll fix it.” She says, crossing her arms. “What did you want?” 

“You got a second? Got someone here who wants to buy.” 

Ellie sighs. 

“Yeah, okay. They good?” 

“Should be.” Jesse confirms. 

“Fine.” Ellie replies, standing up straighter and rolling up the sleeves to her flannel. 

“Cool. You might have actually met him the other night.” Jesse jabs his thumb towards the living room, beckoning her to follow him. 

“The other night?” Ellie questions, trailing after. 

“Yeah, he was with us at the diner after the party.” 

“Wait, what?” 

Before Jesse can answer, Ellie’s eyes fall on who Jesse had brought into their apartment. Wearing a backwards cap, a plain navy blue t-shirt & khakis, their visitor looks like every other standard, forgettable college frat boy. 

But Ellie didn’t forget. In fact, Ellie remembers exactly who he was quite well. 

“You remember Adam?” Jesse asks.

“Man, really? Didn’t clock you as a queer.” 

“Yeah,” Ellie answers, eyes seeing red and hands balling up in fists. “Yeah, I remember you.”

author’s notes:

okay so part of why this took me so long to write and why it also took a lot of convincing on my own part to post is cause i was writing it from ellie's perspective and that was a lot harder than i thought!! didn't plan it to be this way tbh but that's what flowed and well, here it is!

i hope all the college descriptions i’ve been writing have been realistic enough! i had a messy collegiate experience myself and i ended up dropping out after a few years, so i’m just trying to write from experiences from so many years ago (i legit researched what kind of classes aspiring astronauts need to take cause we know our girl wants to go up in space).

the birds on ellie's mug are just references to a couple of my gf's favourite birds (she's an avid bird watcher and she loves birds hehe)!

also idk why i know ellie's a whiskey drinker, but god i just know she is. what butch lesbian is not a whiskey drinker (just from personal experience, don't kill me).

you get a gold star if you got that "brick master" reference ♡︎

i also don't know why i know ellie would listen to frank ocean, but god her loser ass would be LISTENINGGGG to frank ocean. thank you also to everyone for bearing with me and my current sabrina carpenter phase rn ♡︎

does anyone else still look at their friends activity on spotify or is that just me. i love seeing what my friends are up to! i use the airbuds app too, i feel so involved. yeah, that is a pic of me from many years ago as reader's tiny little icon the spotify pic, that's the most y'all get as a pic of me rn sdklfjsd

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