#so this is not me being like oh i’m so sorry you must’ve been miserable without my follow

[subskz]

multitasking - s.cb

content: sub changbin, dom reader, pegging, lots of teasing, slight dumbification, binnie cries a little, male squirting, praise, handjob, female reader

word count: 4.5k

“One, two, three. One, two, three. Just like that, okay?”

Changbin’s breath came out in shudders, so noisy that you wondered if he could even hear you over them. Judging by his scrunched up nose and furrowed eyebrows coming together to form an adorable look of concentration, you doubted it. He was focused on one thing and one thing only.

“Binnie,” you sang. “Are you listening to me?”

Just to make sure you had his full attention, you brought the steady roll of your hips to a halt, keeping your strap buried inside him, but denying him the friction that had wiped all coherent thoughts from his brain. His body rocked for a few seconds more even after you’d stopped, operating purely off muscle memory. Then, it turned into squirming, hips twisting helplessly in the sheets to try and regain the buildup of pleasure he’d suddenly lost. You watched him wiggle around, half-amused, half-endeared as he finally blinked his hazy eyes open to process what was going on. 

“Mm?” he mumbled; drowsy, like he’d been stirred from a dream. “S-sorry? I didn’t…”

His gaze fully refocused to find you smiling down at him. On your end, you could’ve sworn his pupils dilated just a little bit more, painting his irises black and glazing them over. They looked so innocent, you’d never guess what he was really pleading for.

“I said,” you began playfully, running your palms up his twitching thighs just to tease him. They felt especially thick under your touch with all the tension they were holding, you couldn’t resist digging your nails into his flesh, hard enough to leave crescent-shaped indents behind. The tight clench of his muscles was almost as satisfying as the sweet little gasp he let out. “Are you listening to me?”

Changbin swallowed down the saliva that had begun pooling in his mouth, sucking in a deep breath to find his voice again. “O-oh, yeah.” He shifted on the mattress to inch himself closer to you, as if your strap didn’t already have him filled to the near brim. “Yeah, listening. Sorry.”

“What number are we on, baby?”

He paused, doll-like lips curving deep into a pout. It was almost cute enough for you to let him off easy—almost.

“I…I don’t—” he chuckled nervously, eyes flickering to the side. “F-four?” You shook your head. “Five?”

You could tell he was growing restless, even when he was doing his best to behave himself. His dick twitched against his stomach, crying out for you to just forget about the count and start thrusting into him again. All the blood in his system must’ve pooled hot in his abdomen by now, you couldn’t even blame him for not being able to think straight. 

“S-sorry, I really can’t remember,” he stuttered, embarrassed. “Again?”

It was the second or third time Changbin had lost track by now, and he once again found himself cursing the second he’d ever let his pride rope him into this tortuous little game you’d proposed. He’d never been one to back down from a challenge, even if it was a challenge that you both knew full well he’d fail miserably at. That, combined with his insatiable need to impress you clouding his better judgment, had him playing right into your hands.

“I can multitask!” he’d protested. “Do you know how much work it takes to be this cute and sexy at the same time?”

“So much work,” you’d agreed solemnly, trying not to crack a smile over the defensive squeak in his voice. “Then this should be no problem for you, right?” 

From the moment you’d first bottomed out inside him, Changbin had gotten the sense that he’d already lost.

“I’m trying to help you, baby,” you pouted down at him. His eyes fluttered shut as you dragged your index finger along his plump, wet lips, mesmerized with the cute popping sound they made every time you prodded at them. “If you’re too dumb to count by yourself, just repeat after me.”

“N-no, Binnie’s smart,” he insisted, muffled by your finger. His legs squeezed around your waist like they had a mind of their own, trying to rub against each other and generate some friction. “Not dumb. I can do it, lemme do it.”

“Yeah? Let’s try and make it past three this time.” You gave his cheek an affectionate pat. A shiver ran through his body as your hands glided down to his hips, gripping his soft flesh to stabilize yourself before inching out of him bit by bit. 

Immediately, Changbin’s attempt at counting was cut off by his own whine, stretching out for every second the silicone dragged along his walls. Then, you heard it, shaky and breathless as you pushed back inside him.

“O-one.”

His stomach rose sharply under your palms as you pulled out a second time. Before you’d even snapped your hips forward again, he gasped out a “two”, all too eagerly. You giggled, waiting a few extra seconds just to test his patience 

“Two,” he repeated with a tinge of desperation. He looked lost, like he was genuinely wondering if he’d already managed to mess up the order somehow.

You felt a tinge of pity; he really was trying his hardest for you. So, you followed through, deciding to take it slow this time so he actually stood a chance in counting your thrusts. His foggy brain was grateful for it, but his body, not so much. 

“Th-three—ah. Three. Faster, please?” he barely got the words out in time before he felt that delicious stretch again, coaxing an especially high moan. “F-four.”

You could practically taste the hunger rolling off his skin in warm waves. Every needy noise that grew louder his throat, every jerk of his hips begged you for more, even if he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep up with it. His teeth sank into his bottom lip when you pushed back inside of him without missing a beat—faster, just like he’d asked for, and as deep as your position would allow. You dragged your hands up and down his stomach in unison with the slide of your strap; such a simple touch, but enough to disrupt his concentration all over again. 

“Fi—” he began. His voice failed him, cracking pitifully as you grabbed his bouncing chest at the very same instant you brushed against his sweet spot, digging your fingers hard into the plush skin. “F…f-fi…fuck.”

He squeezed his eyes shut, throwing his head back against the pillows as his resolve fully crumbled. The sensation of your palms pressing against his nipples was already dizzying enough, but once you took the hardened buds between your fingers and pinched, he was a complete goner. He made no effort to keep counting even when you didn’t stop rocking your hips, instead letting his mouth hang open uselessly, spilling out another long, shameless moan that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Just a few strokes in, and he was already so far gone.

You let him get away with it for a bit longer, taking the time to admire his dark, messy curls sprawled out against the white pillowcase, even fluffier than usual from all his tossing and turning. Everything about him was so soft. His pecs spilled out between your fingers as you pawed at them, his full cheeks were flushed red and his lips were swollen into a cute, puffy ring after how much he’d nibbled on them. It took all your willpower to not give in to the irresistible sight and keep pounding into him until his head really was too empty to think anymore. 

“So pretty, Binnie. Wanna keep you like this forever,” you murmured. You could feel his heartbeat pick up over the praise, pulsing faster under your palms. Then, all at once, you forced your hips to stop and snapped him out of his daze yet again. “But a pretty boy like you still needs to listen.”

“M-mmph,” he mewled. His body chased after your touch, protesting the loss before he even fully realized what was going on. “N-no. Sorry, I’m sorry. Don’t stop, please?”

“I only stop when you stop.” Your hum was deceptively sympathetic as you watched him fist the sheets in frustration, biceps bulging and chest heaving. His throat bobbed as you closed his slack jaw and tilted his chin up, brushing your thumb delicately over his tiny scar to urge him to look at you. “What’s got you so distracted, hm? What’s on my baby’s mind?”

He forced his eyes open again, so dark that you could see yourself reflected in them clear as day. They gave you your answer before he even said it. 

“You,” he breathed. It was a reply he’d normally be proud of, but with the way you were staring him down from above, he couldn’t stop a sheepish giggle from rising in his throat, lips twitching at their corners and cheeks bunching up.

“Me?” you echoed. “Or this?”

You slid your strap back inside him in one sharp thrust, angling it so that the tip rolled against the roof of his walls and hit his prostate perfectly. He cried out as if on command, high-pitched and sweet. “Ah! Yes, r-right there.”

Even your own rules were becoming less convincing of a reason to deny him when you knew those were the kinds of sounds you’d be missing out on. But you were on a mission, today; teaching Changbin how to multitask, or, toying with his body until he couldn’t take it anymore—whichever came first.

“There’s my answer.” You feigned disappointment, flattening your palm against his stomach and pressing down right around where you guessed the head of your strap had reached inside him. “All you care about is being filled up, huh, baby?”

“N-no, no.” His hand pawed around blindly in the sheets for a moment before he found you, grabbing on to your wrist and pushing your hand harder against the soft pudge of his tummy. You weren’t sure if he’d done it just to gain some kind of stimulation, or because he was just aching to be as close to you as physically possible, but to his credit, he forced himself not to lose his train of thought even as the sensation had his eyes rolling back.

“Binnie’s a good boy. ‘M only like this ‘cause of you. I need you, please.”

He was right; he was such a good boy. He could forget how to count, forget how to close his mouth, forget how to listen, but he’d never ever forget how to say please. That was something you didn’t have to teach him. Still, you didn’t give him what he wanted just yet, instead tracing gentle patterns on his skin, just above where his cock was leaking out tiny drops of precum. It took a few moments for him to connect the dots, but finally, he rasped out the word you were looking for.

“Four…n-no, wait, it was five,” he stammered. “Please, don’t stop, please?”

“Good boy,” you cooed. Grabbing hold of his thighs, you used all your strength to pull your bodies closer together, lifting his legs and settling them around your waist for easier access. A cute, flustered giggle escaped him as he scooted down the mattress, melting into a sigh of pleasure when you were able to nestle your strap even deeper inside him than before.

His fingers sank into the sheets, gripping them so tight that you could see the muscles in his forearms flexing. “S-six,” he gritted out. “M-mm, feels so good. More, please, more.”

The sound of skin on skin began to fill the room as you finally picked up your pace like Changbin had been begging for. You made every stroke count; deep and heavy, pulling out until just the head of your strap was left teasing his entrance, then sliding all the way back inside until your hips smacked against the back of his thighs. The new position immediately took a toll on him, you could tell by the growing lapse in his counting. Every time you left his walls fluttering around nothing, it took a few seconds before he remembered to call out the next number, just so he could feel the relief of you burying the toy inside him again.

“Nine,” he gasped. The building pressure in his core drained his concentration little by little, making for an adorable show of reactions for you the more his self-control slipped. Every pretty sound he made rang out in the thick, hot air around you, unrestrained and heavenly. Your gaze fell from his blissed out face to where his dick laid half-hard against his stomach, bouncing from the impact of your movements. It gave you an idea. 

Changbin choked on his next number as you brought your hand to his head, scooping up the tiny beads of precum and curling your fingers around it. You felt him swell in your grip almost instantly, and when you began to pump his cock along with your thrusts, he fully throbbed in your hands with a fresh wave of heat.

“El-elev—ngh,” he slurred out, barely intelligible. “Three…four. No, t-ten.”

“Four? Ten?” you mimicked. “That’s not right, baby. Try again.”

You swirled your thumb around his leaking tip, effectively fizzling out the last of his thoughts. It was hopeless; the strokes of your hand were mixing up with the pump of your strap, muddling his everything together until he couldn’t distinguish between the pleasure. “Six…n-no, ah. Good, so good. I c-can’t—”

“You usually listen so well, Binnie,” you frowned. “What happened to my good boy?”

Changbin bit down on his bottom lip, so hard that you worried his cute little fang might dig deep enough to split the plush skin. You timed your thrusts seamlessly with the rhythm of your hand, sinking down on his cock as you pulled out of him, and gliding back up his length as you bottomed out again.

“Y-your hand,” he whimpered. “It’s confusing me, I can’t…feels too good.”

“Should I stop touching you, then?”

You released him from your grip, letting his dick fall against his stomach to twitch over the loss. His hips surged up in protest, a soft whine spilling out of him and growing even louder when you pulled your strap out of him in one fluid motion, leaving his walls clenching wildly for you.

“No, no,” he groaned, locking his ankles around your waist to try and bring you closer. “Please, ‘m so close. Please.”

Taking the silicone into your hand, you lined it up with his entrance, pressing the tip just hard enough against him to add an exhilarating pressure. His reaction didn’t disappoint; a full-body shudder, rippling through his muscular thighs, making his chest jump and his biceps tighten.

“You want it, baby?” you asked sweetly, circling the head of the toy around his rim. 

“Yes, yes, please.” The way he rolled his body was nothing short of sinful, you almost gave in right there. His tiny grunts of frustration only grew the more your strap prodded at his hole, teasing the sensitive nerve-endings without giving him the satisfaction of slipping back inside. “Please, b-been so good. Give it to me, please.”

“I know, baby.” You inched the toy away before he could get any real stimulation out of it, brushing its slick tip against his inner thighs in a playful taunt. “Just tell me where we left off, and I’ll fuck you like a good boy.”

Changbin shot you a look of pure helplessness, eyebrows scrunching in dismay as it dawned on him what you wanted.

“I-I…I don’t remember,” he mumbled, not even trying to muster up a guess before he surrendered. “I got it all mixed up, I can’t—”

“I thought Binnie was smart?” 

He squeaked in protest as you pulled your strap completely away with a click of your tongue. “I am! I a-am. Again, please? I’ll try again.”

It wouldn’t make a difference, he knew that as well as you did. But he said it anyway, as a last resort—anything to feel you stretching him out again, anything to hear you whisper honeyed praises into his ear as he fell apart for you.

“You’re hopeless, baby,” you murmured, brushing back his fluffy bangs to reveal his eyes. They were wide as moons, full of desperation and welling up with tears at their corners.

“Please.” The droplets spilled over before he could blink them away. You softened as they trickled down his flushed cheeks, darkening his eyelashes and glazing over his pupils. 

“You’re crying?” Gently, you cupped his face to soothe him. You could feel the heat radiating off his skin as you wiped away his stray tears, only for new ones to take their place again. “You want it that bad, angel?”

The wet gleam in his eyes spoke for itself, but still, he managed a tiny nod. 

“You look so pretty like this,” you marveled, rubbing the pad of your thumb under his eye to scoop up another bead trailing down his face.

Despite himself, Changbin perked up over your words. “Pretty?” he sniffled.

“Mm.” A mix of lube and tears smeared his skin as you tilted his chin up, looking him straight in his eyes to admire the fresh droplets gathering at their edges. They caught the light like rhinestones, a visual captivating enough for you to give him anything his heart desired in that moment. “Beautiful boy. My pretty little crybaby.”

Changbin’s nose scrunched up, a shy, downturned smile tugging at his lips. He knew there was a condescending hint to your words, but when they were spoken so sweetly, when you called him pretty in that voice—when you called him yours in that voice—he could do nothing but melt.

“Seriously. Don’t you like me too much?” He pawed your hand away in embarrassment, but you didn’t miss how his face lit up, visibly yearning for more compliments, for your approval. 

You let out a fond hum. Just like that, you’d found the key to keeping him motivated. He sucked in a sharp breath of surprise as you took hold of your strap, realigning it with his entrance.

“Let’s try again.” You tapped the head of the toy against his rim, just to bask in the way it made him wriggle in the sheets. “Show me how good you are, baby.”

He nodded again, still timid, but revitalized by your encouragement. His lips puckered into a cute little rosebud for you, and with a soft giggle, you took the hint, leaning down to press them against yours. The wet trails on his cheeks cooled your skin as you kissed him, slowly, dragging your lips past the corner of his mouth to kiss away away his tears, too. His shaky sigh fanned out around you, warm and feather-light as you sank back into him, all the way to the hilt of your strap. 

“One.”

You rested one hand on the mattress, bringing the other back to his dripping cock. It was still fully hard even after being neglected so long, jerking gratefully in your palm as you began to stroke it again.

“Two. Th—mm—three.”

“That’s my boy,” you praised. “I know you can do it for me.”

You matched the rock of your hips with the glide of your hand, just as you’d been doing before. It immediately took effect on Changbin, slurring his speech and making his face scrunch up. But he kept trying for you.

“Four…ah, please.”

“Good boy. Keep it up, okay?” You rolled your strap against his sweet spot, teasing it repeatedly with the curved silicone tip before pulling out again. 

“Five. F-five, again, please.”

You indulged him. “Doing so well for me, Binnie,” you crooned, swiping your thumb over his swollen head and making his hips buck. “My smart boy. My good boy.” 

“Mm, mm. Binnie’s smart. Your s-smart boy,” he agreed. He was so simple; spurred on by your doting, even as that familiar, hot coil in his abdomen started nipping at the edges of his mind again. “Your g’boy…ngh. So good.”

More tears trickled from the corners of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, trying to get ahold of his thoughts long enough to get out the next number. You were being so patient with him, so kind to him, he had to do his best for you. 

“Six,” he whimpered. A new wave of droplets spilled over, this time, because the pleasure was growing too strong to bear. You picked up your pace as you drank in the addictive sight; his clenching stomach, tear-stained face, his bulging muscles grasping at the sheets. He deserved it when he took it all so well and looked so good doing it. 

“Seven, eight—close! I c-can’t—!”

“Almost there, baby. Just a little more,” you encouraged him. “You’re so perfect like this. Don’t you wanna show me how pretty you look when you cum for me?”

His dick stiffened in your hand, both over your words and the way you wrapped your palm around its sticky tip. The squelching noise that each roll of your hand created started to mess with his head again, distracting him from his count.

“Eight…e-eight—ah, please. Please, please, please. ‘M gonna—”

“C’mon Binnie, you’re so close. Don’t give up now.”

“Ten, n-no, nine? Nine—?”

He clenched his jaw, hips surging up and walls tightening around your strap like he was afraid you might pull out at any moment. It was useless. No matter how desperately he tried to concentrate, the pressure in his stomach consumed everything else, emptying his mind a little more each time you filled him up. “S-sorry, ‘m sorry. It’s so good, t-too good.”

“I know, baby,” you purred, sensing that he’d reached his limit. “It’s okay, let it all out for me.”

Changbin’s words melted into moans again as you thrust into him with more force, giving him no chance to brace himself for each dizzying stroke, let alone keep track of them anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was because of how tortuously long the buildup to his climax had been, but the sensation creeping up on him felt more intense than usual, like a dam of water waiting to break. Everything felt amplified—the drag of the silicone along his ridges, the sensitivity of his nerve-endings at every point of contact, the dancing of your fingers around his cock—it was all dialed up to a hundred.

You thumbed at his leaking slit, unprepared for just how powerful of a reaction it’d elicit from him. He stiffened beneath you as a jolt of pleasure shot straight to his core, breaking the dam loose all at once.

Changbin’s broken sob sent a shiver down your spine. He arched his back off the mattress as his orgasm racked his body, spurting his release against the pad of your thumb. You stopped rocking your hips to admire him, completely taken by the sight unfolding before you. His cock pulsed in your hand with every wave of pleasure that passed through him, spraying out more cum than you’d ever seen before. It was noticeably different from the sticky white ropes you were used to—watery and messy. The streams splattered against his contracting stomach, glazing his skin with a translucent layer of fluid and coating your hand in the process.

He was panting by the time the last few drops of his release spilled from his aching head. Even as it dribbled down his hips and sank into the sheets underneath him, he didn’t quite understand what had happened, far too preoccupied with the tiny aftershocks rippling through his body. 

Your fingers uncurled from his dick, letting it fall limply against his ruined stomach. He flinched as you ran your hand over his soft, soaked flesh, still hypersensitive after the climax that had shaken him more intensely than either of you bargained for. 

“Look at that, baby,” you marveled, holding up your dripping fingers for him to see. “Your dick’s crying, too.”

Changbin’s eyes fluttered open, shiny with residual teardrops. They widened when he registered why his skin felt so wet, why the bed beneath him felt so sticky and warm, and why his muscles felt deliciously sore, like when he stretched them after a good workout. His cheeks flushed beet red, legs squeezing around your waist in a pointless attempt to cover himself.

“Oh my God. I c-can’t believe—” His face was hot with shame as he buried it into his palms, muffling a noise that sounded something between a giggle and a miserable wail. “I didn’t mean to. W-wait, don’t look, please.”

His babbling trailed off when you stroked his stomach, a gentle touch that masked how fast your heart was still racing over the effect you’d had on his body. You wanted to make it happen again.

“That was intense,” you murmured. “Are you okay, Binnie?”

He couldn’t find the courage in him to reply, too mortified to face you after making such a wreck of himself, too dazed to string a proper sentence together. All he could manage was peeking out shyly between his fingers.

You rested your hands over his to tug them away from his eyes and get a look at him. A soft objection rumbled in his throat, but he let you, anyway, mustering all his self-control to not shove his face in the pillows and hide away from your stare.

“M okay,” he reassured you quietly. 

“Felt good?”

“Good,” he mumbled. “Too good. Wh-what did you do?”

“Ask yourself that, baby,” you drawled. Changbin shivered as you gave his hips a squeeze, an embarrassing mewl slipping past his lips when he clenched around your strap reflexively and realized it was still nestled deep inside him. “Look at the pretty little mess you made for me.”

Changbin let out another low whine. He gave up on maintaining eye contact, turning his head to squish his heated cheeks against the pillow. “Binnie’s shy.”

“You’re so cute.” You ran your fingers through his messy curls to ease his mind, relieved when you felt some of his tension relieve under your touch. “Do you have any idea how hot that was?” 

Your words seemed to snap him back to his senses, clearing the fog in his head and reminding him of how he’d even reached this point in the first place. He made a tiny grunt of effort as he scrambled to prop himself up on his unsteady elbows, eyes widening with guilt. When he spoke, his voice was shot, edged with a delicious rasp after how much he’d strained it.

“I…” he giggled nervously. “I-I lost count again.”

You puffed out a light laugh of your own. Even you had completely forgotten about keeping track of your thrusts after watching Changbin fall apart so beautifully for you. Your little experiment may not have worked out, but you were far more interested in the outcome, anyway.

“Guess we’ll just have to keep practicing, yeah? Until we find out how many it takes for you to cum for me like that again.” 

[slvt4em1lyprenti2s]

Don’t worry about him

Summary: Derek makes a comment about you being too clingy and it upsets you more than you’d like to admit

Word Count: 1.5k

Fluff, kissing, slight self doubt?

Pairings: Emily Prentiss x fem!reader

!NOT PROOFREAD!

Reader pov:

“Are you like glued to her? If my girlfriend was that clingy I could not cope, it’s like being suffocated surely!” Derek taunted as he saw me clutching Emily’s hand on the jet. I instantly let my hand fall out of hers as I laugh it off with the rest of the team. He says stuff like this all the time, why does this one kinda hurt? Am I really annoying? Does Emily not like it when I hold her hand? Am I suffocating her?

Emily must’ve seen the slight falter in my features because once everyone was back in their own conversations, talking theories about the case, Emily placed her hand on my thigh and started rubbing it soothingly. I looked up to her already looking at me. Her brown eyes held a sympathetic expression, I gave her a weak smile and placed my hand on hers. I looked away and started listening to the others talking about the case again.

Time skip to when they’re at the local PD:

Emily’s pov:

I realised through the day y/n’s been pulling away from me, being more distant. I swear to god if it’s because of what Morgan. Anyway, we don’t normally have much pda out in the field, or at work because of keeping it professional obviously, but even when I graze my fingers over her back she’s pulling away. It’s not like her at all.

I walk over to where she’s standing looking through evidence and place my hand in hers.

“Hey you okay?” As soon as I finished my sentence her hand was out of mine already.

“Yeah, fine. Why? You okay?” She responded, sounding deflated.

“You don’t sound okay honey, and you keep pulling away from me.” I hold her hand again and this time she keeps hers in mine, that’s progress.

“Yeah I- uh just. Ugh it’s stupid. I’m fine I promise.” She put on a bright smile and stuck her pinky out in my direction, an adorable tradition of hers. I link my pinkie around hers and place a delicate kiss on her forehead.

“Okay, if you say so.” At that moment Derek walks in followed by JJ and Spencer.

“You still at it? You always this clingy y/l/n?” Jesus, read the room Morgan. She let go of my hand once again and hung her head.

“Hey leave her alone, just because you’re single doesn’t mean everyone else has to be miserable!” JJ teased, instantly jumping to y/n’s defence. I give her a look to say thank you as Morgan holds his hands up in defence. Just as he was about to say something else Hotch walked in.

“We have him. Everyone in an SUV now, Garcia sent the name and location to your phones let’s go!”

The drive to the unsubs house was, not awkward, but different. Y/n didn’t even spare me a glance, Derek was in the back so I didn’t dare reach over to try comfort her, he’d just say something again. I love him like a brother but sometimes he’s just so annoying. We begin to slow down and I look and see that we’re already at the place. We all get out of the SUV and make our way to the front, Spencer and Rossi take the back, me and y/n take the front door, Morgan took the left, JJ took the right and Hotch trailed behind in case anyone needed support.

We breached the front door and found the unsub holding a woman with a gun pointed at us.

“FBI! Mike McAllister put the weapon down!” I yelled as we got in his line of sight.

“You don’t wanna do this James, you’d be just like your dad.” Threatened y/n, a good move on her part.

“You take that back!” He screamed at us, his hands shaking trying to keep the gun steady.

“You’re no better than him if you do this. In fact, you’d be exactly what you made him.” The unsub looked between me and y/n after I said this. I glance towards her to make sure she’s okay, she looks back and silently tells me she’s fine.

“Oh, you’re gunna be sorry you ever said that.” The unsub warned through gritted teeth. He looked me dead in the eye, and then pointed the gun at y/n.

Reader pov:

The son of a bitch just shot me. What on earth? I was pushed back by the force of the bullet hitting my chest - that was thankfully covered by my bulletproof vest - winding me slightly.

I looked back at him after I hear another shot ringing through the house a split second after the first one did. The hostage had run to Hotch in the fuss and Emily had pulled the trigger. After confirming he was dead she came back over to me.

“Hey, are you alright?” Emily fussed as she placed her hand on my back, her eyes were darting all over me to check if I was okay.

“I’m okay- yeah I’m good.” I splutter out, still a little out of breath. She gently pulled the bullet shrapnel out of my vest and ushers me outside to go see medical to double check everything.

As we were walking there em kept putting her hand on my but I just kept shrugging her off. I didn’t want to be clingy or needy just because I was mildly injured. Especially since Morgan was walking up to us.

“Damn you okay?” He asked as I sat on the edge of the ambulance.

“Yeah fine, I’m fine.” I say while removing my vest. I could tell Emily wanted nothing more than to hug and comfort me right now but I don’t want to be clingy and rely on her, like Morgan said. Ugh I need to get him out of my head.

Time skip to when Emily and reader are back home after the case

I walk into mine and Emily’s shared apartment and put down my bag. I let out a big sigh and go to walk to the kitchen for a drink when I feel two hands on my waist that hold me back.

“Hey you.” She muttered as she gently pulled me backwards into her. My from now pressed against her back she spoke again, “What’s gotten into you today? You wouldn’t even let me near you after you got shot y/n/n. What’s going on?” She was lightly swaying us side to side as she spoke while leaving featherlight kisses on my neck and shoulder as her head snaked round the side of my own.

I shake her off yet again and turn to face her, “Nothing I’m okay I told you. I just do t want to you know, suffocate you by being clingy. I didn’t want to annoy you at work either so, yeah. Just after what Morgan said. I mean he was probably just being him but, it got me thinking that I probably do suffocate you and I’m really clingy I’m sor-“ It was as if she didn’t even want those two words to come out my mouth because as soon as Emily caught wind of what I was about to say, her hand came up to cup my cheek and pulled me into a sweet, comforting kiss. Our lips moved together and it was like her kiss was the antidote for all the anxiety I’d been feeling all day. As soon as her lips were on mine, I temporarily forgot all about what Derek said and how it got in my head.

My arms snaked around her neck and hers found home around my waist as she pulled me flush against her. She pulled away but just enough so that I could still feel her warm breath dan across my face. “Don’t worry about him. Morgan I mean. He doesn’t mean it, he’s just lonely, believe me. I love it when you grab my hand or lean on me. It’s comforting, for me and i’m assuming you too. My love, being clingy isn’t a bad thing and honestly you’re not even that clingy Derek’s just being a moody man who isn’t getting any. I love you so much honey please don’t let him get to you.” She kisses me again at the end of her speech. A much needed speech, that is, on my behalf.

I pull away and look her in the eye, trying not to stare and get lost. “Thank you em, I really needed that.” She just smiled and mumbled a ‘You’re welcome.’ As I pulled her into a bone crushing hug. My head fell into her shoulder and I mindlessly played with her hair as her hand ran up and down my back.

Screw Morgan’s stupid comments.

(A/N: I LOVE MORGAN SORRY FOR LOWKEY MAKING HIM THE BAD GUY BUT HES THE ONLY ONE WHO WOULD TEASE ABOUT THIS!!)

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader x Daughter x Instagram AU

Liked by allabouttheharlows, harlowsupdates, and 7,678,345 others

enews Like father, like daughter. Seems like little miss Harlow doesn’t like being captured by paparazzi. Every time we tried getting her attention she would ignore us and give us attitude. Link in bio for the rest of the pictures.

View all 1,100 comments

alizemiaharlow My pet peeve is a camera in my face. Have you ever heard of personal space?

alizemiaharlow Also, the person who took these was following me all day. And being rude, This is why I have that look on my face. I’m always nice and I don’t mind saying hi, my parents raised me to be kind but to also respect myself. don’t yell nasty things my way and don’t whistle to get my attention, I’m not a dog. The only time my name was called, was when I put my glasses on and I was called a bitch for it ❤️

jackharlow EXCUSE ME??? I must be reading shit wrong? I must’ve gone completely blind, because no way I’m reading that people were following my daughter and being rude to her, because if that’s the case, you’re going to be really sorry.

yourusername ENEWS RUN ME MY MONEY! what you’re not about to do is say my daughter was being mean, when clearly your worker was harassing her.

urbanwyatt 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

yourbestiename DISGUSTING!!! Leave my niece alone.

allabouttheharlows 😬 😱 Yoooo Jack and y/n have never cared about paparazzi drama.

harlowsupdates true!!! But they were attacking their daughter so totally understandable.

Liked by jackharlow, yourusername, alizemiaharlow, and 8,678,345 others

ezharlow She might be older but don’t get it twisted, I’ll catch hands to defend her. My ride or die. Love you Mia bug 🐞 ❤️

View all 1,900 comments

jackharlow That’s right!!!!

alizemiaharlow 😂🥺🫶🏻 ilyyy Ez cheesy 🧀

yourusername Ok we’re not catching anyones hands. Let’s just relax a little before doing something bad.

urbanwyatt As you should little punk ❤️

Liked by yourusername, ezharlow, urbanwyatt, nemoachida, and 8,667,355 others

jackharlow Lunch dates with my first born 💜

View all 1,700 comments

yourusername My little lady 😍

cassiewyatt 😍💗

ezharlow  Admit it, she’s your favorite!

jackharlow I’m not doing this with you again punk.

ezharlow 🙄

yourusername Stop calling my son a punk.

jackharlow Babe, he’s a pot stirring punk.

ezharlow Harlow, listen to your wife!!!!!!

alizemiaharlow Lmao you start shit because you know mom will defend you. Mommy’s boy at your age???

ezharlow Sure am and what?? 🥰

jackharlow She was my mami first 🤪🤤

alizemiaharlow OH COME ON DAD 😩

ezharlow DISGUSTING OLD MAN! STOP

yourusername Zadddyyyyy 😋 😘

ezharlow MOM I WILL BLOCK YOU BOTH

jackharlow 🤪🤪🤪🤪

Liked by yourusername, ezharlow, urbanwyatt, jackharlow, and 8,677,345 others

alizemiaharlow Bring your kid to work day! It’s settled, I’m the favorite because he could’ve brought the other 3 😊🤭😇

View all 1,900 comments

ezharlow Aww you thought your were going to hurt my feelings? I’ve been known. The twins tho, they might cry.

alizemiaharlow As long as you know you’re not the favorite.

ezharlow I’m moms favorite

alizemiaharlow You’re such a moms boy is disturbing

ezharlow Says daddy’s princess 🤮

jackharlow I’m not even going to entertain this subject

alizemiaharlow Dad, it’s settled, book closed! Move on. We know!!!

jackharlow Young lady I’m not about to get in trouble.

ezharlow You already are, I showed mom.

yourusername You know, as a parent it’s our job to deny any accusations like these. Husband, you have failed miserably.

jackharlow I DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING!!!!

yourusername My point exactly.

twin1 Ezequiel I think you’re just nobodies favorite

twin2 I don’t even care, I rather be left alone.

ezharlow Mom, dad, the twins aren’t supposed to be on social media, they’re 12?

jackharlow True, who let y’all be on Instagram?

yourusername Who made the accounts?

twin2 My godfather @ druski2funnny

druski2funnny YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SNITCH ME OUT!!!

twin1 But you said it’s always fun when we do the snitching and the pot stirring, so make up your mind?

twin2 Yea especially when you get to see everyone go crazy at each other 😈

ezharlow WHO ARE YOU? I’M SCARED FOR MY LIFE.

twin1 What life?

urbanwyatt HAHAHA I love the twins

TAG LIST

@heavyhitterheaux 💕

@harlowsbby 💕

@arination99 💕

@cmalass 💕

@jackharloww 💕

[wellthebardsdead]

Clockwork heart pt34

Part 33 here

———

Nerevar: *looking down from his horse at Wyrm as the younger elf happily walks along side the horses with their newest companion* Wyrm youre going to get worn out. Riftens a full days travel from here.

Wyrm: *smiles up at him* I’ll be fine ata neht! I don’t want Lucien to be left behind.

Lucien: *the newest addition to the group after befriending Wyrm in the dead man’s drink* Oh it’s no trouble really! I can just- jog along side.

Inigo: no offence julien but you look like the sort to get winded tying your shoes.

Lucien: and you look like the sort to carry fleas. Indigo.

Inigo: hehehehehe~ I like you!

Lucien: the feelings much the same for me. But seriously my friend don’t- AWWW A PUPPY!!!

Wyrm: huh- *turns in time to see a large dog running directly for him, his entire body freezing in utter fear watching the strangely red eyed creature bound towards him* n-no-

Taliesin: *suddenly yanks Wyrm up by his robes and onto naomis saddle with him only for the dog to reach up putting his paws on the horse* DOWN! BAD DOG! GET AWAY FROM HI-

The dog: *ignores Taliesin and bites onto Wyrms boot tugging at it* you are just what I’ve been looking f-… Sotha Sil?

Taliesin: did… did this mutt just talk?

Kaidan: never focking mind that how does it know his name?!

Nerevar: *gets off his horse, hand on his blade as he stares down the hound* Hello, Barbas.

Barbas: … *slowly turns his head to face the Gahmerdohn and Hortator* Oh… Boy, you sure look different.

Wyrm: *simply faints, his crippling fear of dogs getting the better of him*

Taliesin: WYRM?!

Voryn: HLA KHES!? (Little gem)

*several hours later*

Wyrm: *staring at the pile of cheese he’d turned a vampire into as he reluctantly helps Barbas find his master* whew this things got all sorts of weird features- Noooo get away! *whimpers backing up against the icy wall of the cave as barbas approaches sniffing at him*

Barbas: *sniffs his robes and skin ignoring the wabbajack in the dunmers hands* So if you’re not sotha sil, then you’re his reincarnation? Huh he must’ve really been running low on power when he put you together.

Wyrm: I-I don’t know why he made m-me o-or why he made me like this n-now get back! I mean it! I-I’ll turn you into a chicken!

Barbas: Does this form really scare you that badly? Aren’t you supposed to be the dragonborn?

Wyrm: I-I can’t help my fear of- *goes quiet watching the daedra shift and warp his appearance before suddenly looming over him as a red eyed, antlered high elf* dogs-

Barbas: *leans down smirking* How can you defeat the dragons when you’re afraid of a little puppy do- GAHH-

Nerevar: *grabs him roughly by his ear yanking him back and holding his head close to his so only he can hear* I’m being lenient with you because your master and lady Mephala are still on good terms but know this now. I do not care what transpired between you and sotha sil, if you keep frightening Wyrm when he’s so generously agreed to help you. I will hand feed you to Boethia myself.

Barbas: *looking visibly intimidated and failing miserably at hiding it* okay okay I’m sorry! I’ll behave.

Nerevar: *lets him go* good.

Taliesin: *walks in followed by inigo & kaidan* all clear, the last of the vampires have been killed- who in oblivion are you?

Nerevar: Barbas.

Barbas: Nerevar?

Taliesin: Barbas?

Barbas: Taliesin?

Taliesin: Wyrm?

Wyrm: Taliesin-

Inigo: INIGO!

Kaidan: *face palms*

???: “Wyrm? What an odd name… hm. Fitting I suppose if the power I sense from him is what I think it is.”

Wyrm: *blinks and walks to taliesins side, gripping onto him nervously for a moment before following the voice into the main chamber, the others tailing close behind*

Voryn: *standing before a large statue of clavicus vile, staring up at him with an indifferent expression* You harbour no ill will to him then?…

Clavicus Vile: Why would I? He’s not Sotha Sil. And he helped me fulfil my followers last wish~

Voryn: he did? How?

Clavicus Vile: They begged me for a cure for their vampirism. And you came through and killed them all! I couldn’t have planned it better myself!

Wyrm: how awful…

Voryn: *looks up at the stairs leading down to him* Wyrm, to me. *holds out his hand reassuringly, showing no fear before the daedra*

Wyrm: *steps forward hesitating still despite voryns comforting presence*

Barbas: *walks by him patting his shoulder* don’t worry just let me handle this, you helped me, now I help you.

Wyrm: *looks up at him before looking back as Taliesin takes him around the waist, cooing softly to him to let him know it’s okay* teacup…

Taliesin: shhh, You’re safe, I’m here… *smiles reassuringly, masking the concern and uncertainty behind his eyes*

Wyrm: *shakily grips onto his robes and nods, walking down the ramp with him and standing beside voryn at the statue* u-um- hello? C-can you take your- friend? Back now please?

Clavicus Vile: Hmph! That insufferable pup?! No way! No deal-

Wyrm: p-please?

Nerevar: *steps forward to intervene* Wyrm you shouldnt say that it’ll sound like you’re beg-

Voryn: shhh. *looks back at nerevar then at wyrm with a reassuring smile*

Clavicus Vile: *silent for a moment, the air around his statue still for a brief second before suddenly shifting and warping into an explosion of fire and sparks as the stone gives way to the prince himself, staring down at them in all his glory* Hm… *reaches down slowly, offering his hand to the dunmer*

Wyrm: *climbs on without a hint of fear, ignoring how everyone steps forward with panic evident on their faces as the prince of wishes lifts him up to be eye level with him*

Clavicus Vile: After the court of bedlam incident, Id expected old sil to have transferred his hatred of the daedra into you. His caution at least but- you are a strange little thing aren’t you?…

Wyrm: you know about sotha sil? Can you tell me what he was like?

Clavicus Vile: *grins suddenly seeing a bargain to be made* Of course, but you have to do something for me in return~ just tell me your wish and I’ll make it happen.

Wyrm: okay.

Nerevar: Wyrm don’t!!

Voryn: *now showing visible concern* little scrib hold on a moment-

Wyrm: I wish to know why I was made.

Clavicus Vile: *smirks thinking he’s got him where he wants him* of course~ just let me- *reaches his other hand up to touch his head, to see into his mind and grasp his soul and find the tethers that made him. Only to be met with an agony only paralleled by that of umbra as the force of the clockwork god pushes him back out, nearly splitting him in two a second time* UGHHHH!!! *staggers back, dropping wyrm as he grabs his head in pain*

Wyrm: *screams and flails in a panic as he plummets to the ground*

Taliesin: *dives and catches him, shielding his fall with his body as he hits the ground with a thud* Oof! Ughh- *sighs holding wyrm tight* shhh I’ve got you-

Clavicus Vile: AARGHHH YOU HORRIBLE LITTLE-

Taliesin: *gets up holding Wyrm tight* Watch your tongue!! Don’t you dare insult him you horrid beast!

Clavicus Vile: Him? *pauses realising he thinks he’s talking about wyrm* no not him… Sotha Sil, he- stopped me?… but how?

Barbas: Master?

Clavicus Vile: *looks at him perplexed, the two seemingly sharing a conversation only they can hear* … *turns his gaze back to Wyrm* I- can’t grant you your wish. Perhaps there’s something else you might want?…

Wyrm: *feeling unsettled at the princes bewildered expression* c-can you make me bigger? Stronger?… I’m supposed to be the dragonborn but… Im useless on my own…

Nerevar: Wy-wyrm I don’t think that’s a good idea-

Voryn: *gently takes nerevars hand, his concern giving way to intrigue and confusion* shhh, I don’t think… I don’t think he can actually do anything to him.

Clavicus Vile: *no longer appearing confident or cocky with his powers, now just a mix of confusion and mild fear as he tries again* Okay- let’s see if this will work-

Wyrm: *gently pushes away from taliesins arms and stands pretty, waiting for the prince to work his magic*

Clavicus Vile: *holds his hand over him, suddenly surrounding Wyrm in a sphere of energy, his magic pulling at his body, his skin, his bones, his muscles, trying to make him bigger, to grow, to change in any way he can, only to release him as he ultimately fails, leaving him there staring at the unchanged mer, horrified at how untouchable he is* I… I don’t know what he made you with or how but- I-I don’t even think Boethia could change you!

Wyrm: *standing there looking crestfallen, simply just drops down to the floor and hugs his knees to his chest* okay… can you take your friend back now at least?…

Clavicus Vile: *visibly rattled trying to figure out just what exactly Wyrm is, why he feels so familiar in a way beyond just that of the clockwork god* y-Yeah, b-barbas come here.

Barbas: *smiles looking up at him then at Wyrm* Thank you, don’t worry I won’t let you leave here empty handed! *hurries to his masters side, both of them turning into stone statues once more as he reaches him, only now the mask once in Viles hand, now seated in front of Wyrm*

Wyrm: *picks the mask up quietly* thank you…

Clavicus Vile: I don’t know how it’s possible, I’ve never encountered a mortal like you, but I can’t help you change yourself… If you ever need a wish though involving, anything else, you have my boon. It’s the least I can do seeing as you’ve restored me back to my full power! You forget what that’s like when you’ve been stuck in a cave for 3 years!!

Voryn: *opens his third eye scanning the statue as silence fills the space once again* they’re gone.

Taliesin: *leans down gently helping Wyrm up to his feet* are you okay?…

Wyrm: *staring at the mask* … I don’t know anymore…

Lucien: …Okay so I knew things were already beyond interesting given who you guys are- *gestures to the whole group* But he just crippled a daedric prince by doing nothing and you’re all just- not freaking out over it?!

Inigo: oh yes it’s quite normal for us at this point.

Caryalind: my first day with this group I travelled through the sewers beneath solitude to find it had been merged with the shivering isles all because Wyrm went sleep walking after a sword and a chunk of amber that we handed over to the captain of sheogoraths guard.

Taliesin: I met him after he absorbed the soul of lorkhan and our second day together he imploded a dragon just by looking at it.

Kaidan: he nearly levelled all of winterhold and almost murdered a bunch of psijic monks.

Inigo: he shares sugar cookies and gossip with a floating mass of energy called the augur of Dunlain.

Nerevar: he’s the reincarnation of sotha sil, at least, we think he is, we’re not sure anymore.

Voryn: He is and he isn’t. He witnessed the birth of creation and achieved chim in his own right.

Lucien: And you were just going to keep this hidden from me?! I have so many questions!

Wyrm: so do I… and no answers to show for them… *sighs hiding his face in taliesins robes* how am I going to defeat alduin?… what if Esbern can’t help?…

Taliesin: … *picks him up holding him close as he rests his head on his shoulder* shhh, you will, we’ll find a way. If he’s of no help then I’ll do everything I can to find you your answers… *kisses his cheek softly* I promise…

*that evening*

Wyrm: *sitting in his and taliesins tent, braiding his hair as he stares at the pages of his book, watching the patterns swirl* what are you hiding from me?… why am I not allowed to know?… *scowls* this is my life, why do you keep trying to ruin it?… *blinks watching as a monarch butterfly suddenly lands on the page, flitting its wings open and closed slowly, revealing a different colour each time* … *looks down to the wabbajack & sword of jyggalag by his bed roll* …You want… to talk to me?… *looks back at the butterfly*

The butterfly: *flits it’s wings and flies up, landing on his forehead, knocking him out cold with a feathery touch*

Taliesin: *peers into the tent to see no butterfly, only Wyrm sleeping. Seemingly haven fallen asleep trying to read his book* oh love… *picks up the book and stares at it for a moment before scowling as he closes it and tosses it aside* Blasted thing… *huffs and leans down pressing his lips to Wyrms forehead* sleep tight love… I’ll try my best to help you… even if it’s not enough… *sighs and climbs back out of the tent to join the others in keeping watch. All of them unaware of the two masked groups, eyeing both them, and each other up from beyond the treeline*

[panda-writes-kpop]

Ghost! Gahyeon - Haunting Me, Haunting You

A/N: Hi guys, girls, and non-binary pearls! This is part one of my Halloween celebration, and I hope you enjoy it! It was supposed to be complete fluff, but I may have accidentally went too far hehe 😉 I guess that I learn from the best, huh?

TW: Heavy themes of death and murder, jokes about death, fluffy until you get to the end, horror themes(?)

Part One ✨️ Masterlist

You suddenly woke up, and the sharp pain in your skull is enough to make you want to hurl.

What did I drink last night? I’ve never felt like this before… Damn, I must’ve been drinking some hard liquor.

You gag as you try to throw up whatever is making you feel so miserable, but to your surprise, no vomit comes out of your mouth.

What is going on? Usually, I can’t hold my drinks at all… Have I developed some sort of mysterious tolerance to alcohol?

You rise from your sleeping position, and you’re mostly calm until you notice that you’re on the floor.

What am I doing, sleeping on a wood floor? Why would I do something like that? I must’ve really been drunk last night.

You squint as the morning sunlight drifts in from an open window. You sigh before getting up to shut the window.

God, was I really so lazy that I could close the window? Yesterday must’ve been a really rough day for me.

You go to grab the curtain for the window, but you are immediately concerned when your hand goes directly through the material of the curtain.

Okay, I must still be drunk or something because that should not happen!

You attempt to close the curtain with your other hand, but the same thing happens. You sigh deeply before looking down at your hands, and you’re more horrified to find that your hands are now semi-see-through.

I need to see a doctor, or go to the emergency room. I must’ve been slipped something in a drink because this is not normal at all. Let me go check myself out in my mirror.

You turn around, only to make another bad discovery.

Wait a damn minute… this isn’t my room, nor is this my house!

A layer of dust coats the bedroom, except for a few stray footprints. You notice that a suspiciously shaped blanket sits on the bed, and there is most definitely something under the blanket. Your senses aren’t able to detect anything from this far, but given your current track record, you’re not in the mood to learn anything else about where you are or what’s going on.

I just need to find my phone, or at least, someone else.

Your prayers are answered when someone walks through the closed bedroom door.

“Gahyeon!?!” You excitedly say as Gahyeon gasps in surprise.

“Y/N, you’re here!” She says before she immediately starts sobbing. “I-I’m s-so sorry, I co-couldn’t save yo-you.”

Save me? What is she on about? It must be one of her pranks or something like it.

“Gahyeon, what are you talking about?” You walk over to her, and in a lapse in memory, you wrap your arms around her.

To your utmost surprise, you can feel her in your arms as she tightly grips you in response.

I- I can’t be dead, can I? What happened to me?

“Oh, Y/N-ah, you shouldn’t have died! It’s all my fault!” Gahyeon wails before burying her head in your chest.

You cough in order to hide how flustered you are.

“I don’t remember, Gahyeon. What happened?”

Gahyeon pulls away from your chest with tears in her eyes.

“They killed you, in cold blood.” Her tone turns from sad to serious in mere seconds.

“Who are you talking about?”

“Your best friend, Y/N! They pounded your skull in with a croquet mallet until you stopped moving! I had to watch because I couldn’t do anything… screw being dead! This sucks, as you’ll soon realize.”

She angrily exhales before crossing her arms. You chuckle to yourself, and she yelps in surprise.

“You think I’m joking at a time like this?”

“Let’s admit it… you’re kind of cute when you’re angry.”

Gahyeon blushes deeply before laughing at herself.

“I was told that a lot when I was a little girl, actually.”

You place your hands on Gahyeon’s waist before letting a small smile appear on your face.

“We can be together now, until the end of time. I guess this didn’t turn out too bad, huh?”

Gahyeon is dumbfounded by your sudden optimism.

“But… Y/N, don’t you miss living?”

“What is there to miss? Besides, I would’ve died at some point in the future.” You shrug before softly kissing the top of Gahyeon’s head. “I’ve always wanted to do that.”

“Speaking of things that we’ve always wanted to do…” Gahyeon eyes your lips, and you laugh before indulging her in a sweet kiss.

“Was that as good as you imagined it?” You say after you break away from her for air.

“No, Y/N,” She shakes her head with a teasing smile on her face, “it was even better.”

Gahyeon suddenly grabs your hand, and she drags you out of the bedroom.

“Wait, where are you going?”

“Someone’s got to show you how being dead works, and luckily for you, you’ve got an excellent guide with you!” She turns back to wink at you before continuing to drag you around the house that you were both murdered in, but only a few decades from each other.

~

It doesn’t hit Gahyeon that your best friend is the exact same person with the same name until she has to watch them murder you in cold blood. Only then does she recognize that sickening grin - the same one that was present on their face when they murdered her.

The problem is that your best friend should be well into old age, but they have not aged a day since Gahyeon was last alive.

Externally, Gahyeon is grieving you as they finally decide to stop swinging when your body is beyond recognition. They drag you onto the bed, and they throw a mere blanket over your body before leaving to clean up their mess.

The murder weapon is different, Gahyeon notices. She was given a mixture of cleaning supplies that was disguised as a hangover cure. Gahyeon was so hungover that she didn’t notice what she was drinking until it was already too late. A night at her best friend’s house ended in murder, and the worst part was that no one suspected them at all. Your best friend got away with murder because everyone thought Gahyeon was a drunk mess who accidentally ended her own life.

There was something different about them, but Gahyeon thought it had something to do with their endless charms. They weren’t human - that was the conclusion. Gahyeon swore at the house a few times before trying to piece her life back together.

If you had never come over and met Gahyeon, maybe this wouldn’t have happened. Screw the rules of having to stay in the place of your murder until someone living figured out what happened to you. Being a ghost sucked, until she met you.

It didn’t matter, anyways, since the both of you were dead and no one would ever figure it out.

~

Every second we fall to the fire below

It’s so beautiful

The hell that we both made for each other

(But it’s all love and war)

Louder we roar

(Crying for more)

I know it’s wrong, but baby just-

[sunspray-peak]

Ch. 22: Hallucinations & Hauntings

SUNDAY - SUMMER 14

When Achilles woke, it was to the smell of soup and the—blessed be—warmth of sunlight grazing his face. This was the only time he was grateful all bedroom windows seemed to face east in this town. The sun after a storm was always a special kind of sun, something more… precious. Something a little more kind. 

A blurry glance at the digital clock told him it was nearly 11am. Yoba, he hadn’t slept this much in years. But his body had clearly needed it. Every limb was a tightly coiled spring—stiff, unable to stretch even the slightest amount. His nose was running; he managed to spot the tissues on the nightstand just in time before a quick series of five, obnoxiously loud, sneezes spewed from his nose. Moving even the slightest bit felt like trying to bend steel, but with a groan, he managed to sit himself upright. 

“Morning!”

Had he been sitting for a minute or an hour? Achilles slowly raised his head to see Alex walking towards him with yesterday’s clothes, warm and fresh from the dryer, and a bowl of scrambled eggs and pancakes.

“How ya feeling?” 

“Miserable.” The word had been lodged in the depths of a scratchy throat. 

“Yeah, heard you sneezing.” Alex placed the items on the desk and, biting his lip, held the back of his hand against Achilles’ forehead. A near-nauseating swoop rushed his stomach at the cool touch. If he wasn’t hot before, he must’ve been now. 

“Well you don’t have a fever…” Or apparently not. “That’s good news, right?” 

“Hmm…” 

“You can eat in here, no rush. It’s Sunday so I gotta head down, just wanted to make sure you were ok. Snored almost as bad as Dusty last night with that stuffed nose of yours, I thought you’d suffocate.” 

Achilles burned even redder, if that was at all possible, but he didn’t have the energy to fight it, managing to choke out, “Thanks again for letting me stay the night.” 

“Yeah, no problem. It’s Dusty you really have to thank, he knew something was up, didn’t you, Dusty?” Alex gave the old beagle a hearty scratch behind the ears. “Hey, I’ll try to stop by later—but maybe visit Dr. Harvey if you don’t feel any better?” 

“Do I look that bad?” 

“Nah, you look great. But you never know, better safe than sorry, right? I’ll see you around, okay?” 

It was an unceremonious goodbye, but then again, what did Achilles expect.

He managed to finish the pancakes and the eggs—they were awfully good—before slowly changing and shuffling out the bedroom and down the hall. 

Looking to his left, he saw George determinedly ignoring his hello—you’d think the old geezer thought being gay was contagious—as he watched some black and white western on the TV. To the right he found Evelyn in the kitchen, watering some houseplants. 

“Evelyn, thank you so much for breakfast and for letting me stay the night.” As difficult as it was to force his arms above his waist, courtesy demanded he move to wash his dishes in the sink. Perhaps part of him hoped Evelyn would take the bowl from him, but if so, he was disappointed. 

Instead, she turned from her mixing bowl to pat his lower back and said, “Oh that was all Alex, my dear, we’re just glad to see you safe! I do hope Shane is doing all right…” 

“I’m sure Harvey’s taking good care of him.” Achilles placed the dishes in the drying rack right before delivering another rapid succession of sneezes. 

“Oh dear.” Like Alex, Evelyn placed her cool hands against his forehead. “Perhaps you should see Harvey yourself.” 

“I’m sure it’s just a cold,” Achilles said, taking a rapid step back. Best not risk getting Alex’s grandparents sick, even if it was just a cold. “But I’ll not trespass on your hospitality any longer, thank you again.” 

“Of course, dear! You let Alex know if you need anything, now.” 

After receiving a very Shane-like grunt from George in lieu of a proper goodbye, Achilles left River Road and made the slow walk back to the farm, managing to (thank Yoba) not bump into any of those pesky overly talkative townsfolk. Really all he wanted to do was get straight back and sleep in his own bed. 

But lo and behold, as he passed the “Strawberry Farms” sign Leah had painted for him what seemed like ages ago, he made out a squat little someone slouched on his porch. 

Shane waved—small, halfhearted. Embarrassed. 

“Been waiting all morning for you,” he mumbled as Achilles drew closer. The dark bags under his eyes and scraggly, unshaven beard were aging him more than ten years; his face was still slightly bloated. 

Achilles raised an eyebrow, and would’ve scoffed had his stuffed nose and increasingly sore throat allowed it. “Sorry to disappoint.” 

“No, agh, sorry, that’s not what I meant…” Shane looked at his beat up sneakers, his hands visibly fidgeting in his pockets. “Buh… oh man… how do I say this… 

“I wanted to um… I’m really sorry about what happened at the cliffs. That was… embarrassing…” 

Achilles sighed, softening at the apology, and sat down on the porch steps, laying his head in his palms. “Well. I’m just… happy you’re still here, man.” 

“Huh, it was that serious? I can hardly remember…” Shane shuffled his feet, his hands still in his pockets. “Harvey told me you carried me through Cindersap through the rain and stuff… thanks…” 

Achilles shrugged and sighed again. He wasn’t capable of much more in his current condition. “Of course. Right place, right time. Couldn’t just leave you there.” He of all people was familiar with that sentiment. Yoba, this whole situation was hitting a little too close to home… but at this moment, he was (perhaps thankfully) too exhausted to dwell on it. 

Shane nodded, gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “It all just… sucks, you know? My hours got cut again… forgot Jas’ birthday last week… and yesterday… seeing Alex…  you know what I’m talking about, so I can say this, but…” A pink tinge flushed across Shane’s cheeks. “He’s just everything I’m not, ya hear? Everything I once wanted to be. All those friends. Athletic. Nice. Good looking kid. Tall… and doesn’t need a beer to have a good time…”

Achilles did get it. There was something about Alex—his enthusiasm, his confidence, his laid-back attitude—it wasn’t difficult to see why it’d inspire envy. 

“I got to change, I know it.”

It was Shane’s turn to sigh, a heavy one through his nose. With great effort, he continued.

“I’ve decided I want to see a therapist. Harvey got me in touch with a colleague of his.” 

This made Achilles look up. “Oh. That’s great, man.” 

Shane grimaced and turned to go. “Should be… good. Anyway… I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me. And I… want you to know that I’m going to take things a little more seriously from now on. Want you and Emily to uh… hold me accountable, if you can. I don’t want to be a burden on anyone…” 

“You’re not a burden to anyone, Shane. Your family and friends care about you.” 

Shane nodded slowly, as if digesting the words that tasted so bitter to Achilles even as they came out of his mouth. 

“Well… thanks, again. Time for the daily soul crushing at Joja now…” he said with a weak attempt at a joke. Something in his choice of words rang a bell in Achilles’ brain, but it was still far too clouded with exhaustion for him to make sense of any greater meaning Shane’s phrasing may have contained. 

Once Shane’s blue hoodie had disappeared to the south, Achilles gathered his strength and stumbled into his cottage. A quick glance in the mirror confirmed that Alex’s assessment of him “looking great” had been nothing but a lie—the circles under his eyes rivaled Shane’s, not to mention the dried rivulets of snot and crusty ass tumbleweed on his head. Man, this was as Shane as he could get. Definitely not a look he wanted to emulate.

Why can’t you ever look hot in front of Alex? Fuck. 

But this wasn’t the time for vanity. He sloshed some water on his face, before deciding there wasn’t energy for anything more, and collapsed on his bed. He’d order delivery from the saloon later… 

*****

Sometime in the early afternoon, he woke atop the covers in a cold sweat. Shivering and dazed, he stumbled out of bed to his bathroom cabinet, desperate to find some medication he vaguely knew, in his hazy mind, wouldn’t actually be there. Of course—he hadn’t bought a first aid kit, or any medication really, like the idiot he was, but was it medicine he needed or something else…

Panic was rushing through his veins as his fingers stumbled over boxes of bandaids and bottles. Something was coming… he could feel them whisper at the back of his mind… he should’ve known, he should’ve been more prepared. He had to stop it, fast. 

Finding nothing—as he knew he would—he staggered over to his cell phone, forgetting it had all but seized up in the downpour. 

He was on his own. There was no way he was going to make it to Harvey’s, and besides, as the logical (or perhaps, illogical) part of his burning mind thought, Harvey deserved a day of rest after having to deal with Shane. The real question was why Stardew had only one doctor… 

There was a sudden knock on the door. Firm, hard, a single crack of knuckles against the heavy frame. It echoed, and a shiver ran up his spine, like the feeling of cold, dripping rain. 

He teetered back to his bed, desperately hoping it was the wind, or maybe an errant bear—he needed a dog. Maybe he’d borrow Dusty. What was he doing, living out in the semi-wilderness completely and utterly alone. But he knew it was something else. Something worse. 

The knock came again. This time sharper, higher, but similar to the first. A singular sound against the wood. 

Achilles crouched under the covers. Eyes closed tightly, a low cry just escaping from his lips. 

The post-knock silence gave way to a heavy pounding. Thunderous, like horses galloping, he could feel the vibrations snaking from the door along the wooden floors, shaking the bed ever so slightly with each thunk against the frame. Whispers began to creep through the walls, whispers in his head, in his mind. 

His aching fingers were shaking as he struggled to grab his pillow for something to clutch on to. Cold sweat rapidly transformed into an inferno as his fever switched tactics. 

Someone (or something) continued to pound on his door. He strained to keep the noise out, hands plastered against his ears, but even still, he could make them out… voices, low, angry… An avalanche of coughs from deep within his chest was clamoring to spew out, but he kept them down, silent tears and sweat streaming from his pores in their stead. On and on it went, for what could have been an hour. What could have been a minute, 

And then. All was silent. Just the scratch of a tree blowing gently against his window. 

But this was not the time to surrender his guard. 

There was the slightest whine. A creak. Then a cool breeze that shimmied its way under the covers where Achilles was hiding, grazing his clammy skin. 

And in the moonlight that now seemed to be streaking through his room, he could see illuminated the shadow of a hand, coming closer and closer. A face leaning towards him, passing through his comforter just as he knew, deep inside him, it would. Long and wrinkled and smiling with bloodshot, blacked out eyes and giant, pointed teeth. Worms wriggling out from holes in dry, grey skin. 

Even with his eyes closed, he could see it. The face lying next to him. Horrific shadow figures melding through the walls, circling his bed. Slime oozing through the windows. Serpents screeching as they wrapped their tails around his arms, pinning him to the bed frame. And all throughout, that multi-layered whisper tickling from the back of his mind. 

Achilles, they said. 

He had to get out. He wrenched the covers back, hands slick with sweat, and staggered blindly to his feet. A box—he had to find the box, where were they coming from—if he could just find it, destroy it, he could stop it all, he could end this, where was it, where was it? He could see it, there in his head—a metallic, lilac little thing, but where was it. 

The whispers turned to screams. He was paralyzed—make it stop, why wouldn’t it stop—

And then he woke up. 

*****

He felt his own forehead. Drew no conclusion, but figured, from his sore throat, chills, and massively aching muscles, that he must still have some degree of fever. A lower grade one now, for sure, but still perhaps a cause for concern… 

His phone—lying on his nightstand—was still useless. 

But just as he had resigned himself to his pathetic fate, there was a knock at the door. 

He painstakingly shuffled over to unlock it, pulling it just a smidge open to find, with the smallest modicum of delight, Dr. Harvey standing on his porch. The sun was still shining. He must not have been asleep for long. 

“You,” Achilles said thickly, already making his way back to bed, “Are just the man I wanted to see.” 

Dr. Harvey chuckled. “I thought so. Alex stopped by earlier to tell me you weren’t looking too good this morning, he shared you weren’t answering your door. I thought it’d be a good idea to check in on you. Here, let’s take a seat…” He unfolded a stethoscope.

Alex had stopped by? Perhaps that had been the knocking in his dream… 

*****

“102.3 degrees,” Harvey popped the thermometer out of Achilles’ mouth. The last procedure, Harvey had been quite thorough. “I’m glad I came.” 

“Must’ve been even worse earlier this afternoon.” Achilles coughed. “I was hallucinating.” 

Dr. Harvey frowned, making a note in his little pad. “Tell me more about that.” 

“I’ve always hallucinated with bad fevers, though,” Achilles quickly added, though never had they been this vivid before. “That’s not anything new, just, like, nonsensical shit… ” But at Harvey’s urging, he shared the details of his horrifying encounter earlier that afternoon.  

“—of course looking back you’re always like ‘you were hallucinating.’ But of course you forget that at the time. Think it’s all real…” 

“The brain is a remarkable thing,” Harvey nodded, finishing up his notes. “For better or for worse… Now I believe you may have pneumonia, but I won’t be able to confirm until the blood results come back—you must have been hypothermic being out in the rain for so long. It likely weakened your body, and may have made you more susceptible.”

Yeah and whose fault was that, ya bastard. 

“I’ve got some antibiotics for you here. Be sure to drink plenty of fluids. You may want to give Gus and Pierre a call, I want you to take it easy.” 

“Phone’s dead, doc.” Achilles erupted into another coughing fit. “Tried charging and it didn’t work.” 

“Ah. Well I can pass on any requests if you’d like.”

Harvey handed him a pen and paper, and with an unsteady, dragging hand, Achilles wrote “I hate cucumbers.” 

“Not too picky, are we?” 

Achilles shrugged, crawling back under the covers. 

Harvey tucked his notepad into his front pocket and stood, his work here done for now. “Now, a hot bath may also be good, it can help open up your airways.” 

“Perfect,” Achilles mumbled from his pillow. 

“Take care of yourself, Achilles. I’ll be back with additional medication—perhaps we can leave the front door unlocked and I’ll leave it on your nightstand if you’re asleep? The Valley is a safe place.” 

“Mmhm.” 

Achilles’ hacking cough felt oddly more comfortable sleeping on his side, arms clutching a pillow for dear life, and with his back against the wall, he managed to just catch a glimpse of a trio of junimos scurry inside as Harvey opened the front door to leave. They planted themselves squarely in the corner of his bedroom. Another hallucination? In his condition, he couldn’t bring himself to care…

*****

His sleep was, mercifully, untroubled this time, and he woke that evening to find, as promised, a few bottles of medication on his nightstand, as well as some instructions and recommendations. Steamy baths? Hot beverages? That’d be easy enough. 

Also on his nightstand was a paper bag, fragile and damp with steam. The handwriting on the note was smeared—Alex was a lefty—but impressively uniform and straight, despite the slightly distorted sloppiness of the individual letters that spelled out “Get well soon : )” 

Charming, really.

He stomached only a quarter of the chicken pot pie and half a snickerdoodle cookie—hallucinating rarely left him with an appetite—before stumbling into the living room, pausing by the portrait of two root vegetables to catch his breath, and into the kitchen to shove the rest in the fridge. He was still exhausted—mind, body, spirit—and hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to sleep peacefully through the night. 

Tucking himself in, he managed to make out in the moonlight a new trio of junimos marching in, straight through the wall this time. So it hadn’t been a dream earlier, huh? They gave what seemed to be a salute to their compatriots who had been, for lack of a better word, standing guard the past few hours before switching places. 

“Thank you?” Achilles found himself saying to their retreating figures. Thank you? For what? For just being there? 

The junimos merely bounced. 

[goat-and-a-pig]

Chapter 17

Icarus was confused. Really, really confused. And… kind of mad. Why had she never told him anything about her past? Mabel knew this guard- intimately. Who is he? Why does she know him? How does she know him? Why won’t she tell me things? Does she not trust me? What are they talking about? Why is it taking so long?

And… Is Stan crying?

“Um… Stan? Are you okay?” Stan didn’t answer. Icarus was concerned. “Stan?” He asked again, and Stan startled. “Huh? Oh. Uh, I’ll get my boots on,” he said looking at the woods wistfully. Wistfully? Icarus had more questions than answers, and he did not appreciate it. “Answer me!” He demanded as Mabel and the boy came in through the bushes.

“Sorry! I’ll explain!” Mabel yelped. “Icarus, Stan, this is my twin brother, Dipper. I just filled him in on our mission! He’s not going to arrest Stan!” Her brother? Well, it explained the uncanny likeness, and Icarus knew she had some sort of a family before she came, but why didn’t she tell him?

“Twins, huh?” He asked, but that wasn’t really the question he was asking and she knew it. “Yeah,” she replied. They went off to the side. “Really?” He asked, hurt showing on his face. She sighed. “I’m so, so sorry I never told you. I wasn’t allo- I mean, I didn’t want to burden you with my sadness. It would’ve just made us both miserable. I was going to tell you, but we were chased, then almost drowned, and by the time that was all over he was already here. Now. And I know you don’t remember your family, but maybe you do have one that’s been missing you for thirty years. I’ve only been away for one, I-I can’t even imagine-” Her rant halted as she realized she was going too far. “I really am sorry I never told you,” she finished.

He stared at her unblinking. She’s right- I must’ve had someone I loved. Family, friends- His brain stopped working for his next thought. Am I married? Do I have children? Or grandchildren? Or-?

Now it was his turn to sigh. “I’m sorry too, Mabel. I can’t even imagine what you’ve endured, keeping this all to yourself for so long. And you never would’ve burdened me- I’m your friend! I’m here for you whenever. Always. I’m so glad you found Dipper. When were you going to tell me that you’re related to Stan? Or that you’re evidently royal?” If this were a cartoon, he would’ve seen an exclamation point appear above her head. I think she forgets that I’m not just a Sibling Bros. fan- I can solve mysteries, puzzles, and curiosities like in the books too, as any true nerd would. “Well, um, after I told you about Dipper? I only just found out yesterday. And the royal thing, well, I thought I’d ease you into it… And Stan being royal? That isn’t my story to tell.”

“We should, uh, get back to the group.” They walked back over. “Dipper,” he said, acknowledging the boy. “Y-Yes sir?” He replied. “It’s good to meet you. Dipper gulped and stuck out a shaky hand. “Good to thank you- I- I mean good to meet you. Thank you. For being Mabel’s friend and companion while she was stuck. She needed- and needs- you. So, um, thank you. Sir.”

Icarus smiled. “No need to be so formal, Dipper! You’re Mabel’s brother- as far as I’m concerned, we’re practically family!” He looked quickly at Stan while he said this, hoping he’d catch his drift. Stan’s eyes widened for a split second, then settled back into his neutral face as quick as lightning. But Icarus caught it.

“Thank you,” Dipper said gratefully, oblivious to Icarus’ hidden message. He walked over to his sister, leaving Icarus behind to wonder if he’d ever been like that, inseparable from his sibling.

He wondered about a lot of things.

[skatiet]

lil rant in the tags bc i feel the need to apologize to people for no real reason <3

[laughing-with-god]

The Unsaid Vow (Prologue)

Synopsis- You always knew when you weren't wanted. And the way things are going in your marriage with Jungkook, a divorce is looking more and more likely. While he's getting closer to a woman at work that you're certain he's having an affair with, you're planning your escape with your four-year-old son. However, five years of marriage did not expose you to a certain side of your husband. A side of Jungkook that only gets triggered when you try to leave and break apart your perfect 'family'.

Warnings- Yandere behavior, graphic language, violence/murder, women bashing on other women, heavily implied infidelity, bad parenting, absent father, broken family vibes, very slow buildup bc Jungkook doesn't really snap until you leave him so just give him a min lol, inexperienced author writing for a four-year-old (I never wrote for a kid before pls gimme a break), also I chose my future son's name for this fic but pls feel free to name him whatever you want :)

Slow burn Yandere Husband Jungkook

Word Count; 5.4k

Unlike the vast majority of married couples, neither you nor Jungkook donned wedding rings.

Never in your five years of marriage did you regret this decision, given it was brought upon by you and your husband’s lack of funds for fancy wedding bands at the time of your rushed marriage.

Well, you were never annoyed....until tonight, that is.

The scene before you was exceptionally intimate, so much so that you felt the instinctual need to look away in respect of the two before you.

The woman was gorgeous, effortlessly attracting all the attention the small conference room had to offer. In addition to this natural charisma spurred on by her borderline enchanting looks, her short and skin-tight red dress showed off her pleasantly curvy body. Her long, silky, and jet-black hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail that provided a simple background for her darling features. Utterly doll-like was her face; petite, creamy in complexion with bright doe eyes and berry-pink lips.

Such a beautiful woman was currently in the arms of an equally, if not more so, attractive man.

He was tall and slender, yet not at all lanky given his sturdy build that was a testament to his strict workout regime. His olive skin was complimented with occasional tattoos, a mix of faded and fresh ink that you knew like the back of your hand despite only the tats on his hand currently showing in his crisp Valentino suit. His mid-length inky black hair was down to frame his sharp face, and indeed it was a very handsome one consisting of full eyebrows, bow-like lips, a fleshy yet impish nose, and two large, yet seemingly bottomless, raven orbs.

This man had his arms encircling the middle of the mysterious woman, her expression lifting into a light-hearted giggle as she leaned forward to whisper something in his ear.

Whatever she said must’ve been amusing to the man, given his usual stoic facade briefly melted away as he allowed a small smile at her words, his pearly round teeth peeking out for a split-second appearance.

If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that these two were lovers.

But there was only one problem with this scene.

That was your husband, Jungkook.

And that woman in his arms was not you.

As if sensing your distress and wanting to soothe your well-founded suspicion, Jungkook pulled away from the woman and ran his gaze across the room- only stopping when he spotted you. Your spouse then gestured at you, the girl following his line of sight and landing on you and your pitiful spot by the snack table. Her joyful expression briefly dropped for a blink-and-you'll-miss-it second, but she quickly plastered on another grin and nodded. The two then strode their way over to you, barely giving you enough time to steel your nerves and muster a polite purse of the lips.

Before you knew it, the woman was right in front of you with your partner at her side instead of yours. Much to your dismay, she was only more attractive up close, and you narrowly held back a grimace as she held out a hand in introduction. You took it and shook it lifelessly.

“Hello, you must be Mrs. Jeon. I’m Sana, Jungkook’s colleague.” Even her voice was pretty, musical and light to the ears.

“H-Hi, nice to meet you but please call me Y/n.” A brief and awkward pause as Sana briefly sized you up and down. “Um, Jungkook has never mentioned you….” you trailed off, side-eyeing your husband in hopes he would intervene and add context to this random goddess he’s thrust upon you.

Jungkook gracefully took his cue and explained, “Sana transferred from another branch out of the city and has only been with us for five months. I’m her case supervisor and have been taking care of her, showing her the ropes and whatnot.”

Sana didn’t even spare you a glance as she fondly looked up at your husband, coyly biting her lip and saying in a much softer tone that could've been just for his ears only, “And he’s been really good at taking care of me.”

You didn’t consider yourself a jealous stay-at-home wife who obsessed over the tiniest details between her husband and other women, but the double meaning behind her badly-whispered comment was enough to make you splutter in disbelief. However before you could even gather up the courage to ask just what the hell ‘taking care of me’ consisted of, two new faces waltzed up and joined the conversation.

“Are you all enjoying this fabulous Christmas party?” A tall, broad-shouldered but nice-looking man asked in a tone of familiar amicability.

You thankfully smiled up at him, having met him many times before.

His name was Jin, and he was the one who got Jungkook this job.

It occurred about five years ago when you first told Jungkook that you were pregnant. Being the romantic but overall good guy that Jungkook was, he insisted that you two get married so that your child could have parents who were at least husband and wife. In addition it would also lessen the judgment in your two families, which at the time was extremely appealing to you. You had agreed to marry on one condition: after running to the courthouse you two would need to move in together in a decent apartment with a room for the nursery. But getting an apartment would mean month-to-month rent, and Jungkook’s tattooing gigs weren’t stable enough to ensure that.

Jin was originally a friend of Jungkook’s older brother, but when he heard through the grapevine about the issue, he bought Jungkook a couple of suits and offered him a job at the corporation he worked at.

Now Jungkook made more than enough money to support your little family, and it was all because Jin took a chance on a college drop-out and his knocked-up girlfriend.

You opened your mouth to respond but were cut off by the unknown lady beside Jin.

“I’d say a little too much fun if anything. Sana and Jungkook, we get that you're the infamous office couple but maybe tone it down a bit, huh?” She joked while raising her brows at the close proximity between the two.

A long and tortuous silence swept the scene.

Jin glanced at you, pity swimming in his usually carefree eyes.

Not trusting your voice to say anything and desperately wanting to hide your face from the piercing eyes, you distracted yourself by taking calculated sips of watered-down eggnog.

“Daehyun...this is actually Y/n, Jungkook’s wife,” Jin told the lady in an uncomfortable voice.

You didn’t know what stung more, the fact that this stranger thought that there was more chemistry between Sana and your husband than with you, or that it was Jin who corrected this mistake and not Jungkook himself.

“O-Oh, well it’s nice to meet you.” Daehyun awkwardly said to you while avoiding direct eye contact.

You offered a tight smile, “Pleasure.”

Whatever gratitude you could’ve had for Daehyun’s clear embarrassment quickly vanished when the woman went on to continue, “I’m sorry. Jungkook never mentioned being married and he doesn’t wear a ring so I didn’t even know. I bet it must be interesting for his housewife to meet his office wife though, right?”

She laughed, not realizing that she only succeeded in putting a foot in her mouth right before stomping it all over your pesky little heart. The group didn’t seem to share your uneasiness, all three of them politely chuckling along to the lukewarm joke at your expense. Once again, you focused on your dwindling beverage to avoid the burden of speaking or even facing them directly, too scared that your miserable expression would be unanimously inspected.

“Well, we just came over to recruit you all for some karaoke!” Jin cheerfully announced, clearly trying to change the subject, “There’s a machine in the break-out room and it’s more fun to sing with a group.”

“More like you want an audience.” Jungkook wittingly teased, a handsome smirk on his face as Sana playfully scolded him with a push to the chest.

“I’ll take your jabs now Kookie because I know they stem from your insecurity that I can actually upstage you in the vocals department.” Jin rebutted in good nature, even letting your husband’s old nickname slip.

Daehyun and Sana both guffawed at this declaration, exaggerated disbelief present on their faces.

“Jungkook is the best singer in the office. He’ll upstage you without even trying.” Daehyun said in a tenor of utter confidence.

“Only one way to find out!” Jin brushed the comment off, pointing to the direction of the assumed breakout room, “Karaoke anyone?”

The so-called office wife nodded enthusiastically, taking your husband’s arm and looking up at him to plead, “Can we do a duet of that one song we like?”

Jungkook, for the first time in seemingly hours, shot you with a questioning gaze.

Be married to someone for a while and you’ll learn how to decipher what they’re trying to say with just mere looks. Your husband was wordlessly inquiring if you were going to join, if he should go along with the group or if you two should break away and do something else.

The ball was finally in your court.

Not wanting to be rude but needing to get away from these people before you lost your cool, you decided on a subtle excuse.

“I need a refill, but maybe we can meet you all later?” You said, shaking your empty paper cup as if to prove your case.

“Oh, well the drinks are right behind you.” Sana condescendingly pointed out, tightening her hold on your husband and began steering him towards the exit, “We’ll save a seat for you.”

Bewildered, you watched as Jungkook obediently followed her lead with the Daehyun girl trailing behind.

He didn’t even spare you a glance.

You wanted to be angry.

You wanted to storm up to your husband, yank him out of the clutches of his colleagues and practically drag him back home under the premise that he would never speak to Sana ever again.

But instead of a righteous rage fueled by the marital vows you two took, utter exhaustion bestowed upon you and prevented any instigation on your part.

Maybe earlier in your marriage you would’ve fought for his attention, but now you simply just wanted to go home and lick your wounds with the help of a Ben and Jerry’s ice cream while self-obsessing over Sana’s outrageous attractiveness. After all, who could blame any hot-blooded man for choosing that goddess over you? What could you possibly do but lean back and accept that she was the obvious choice?

Other than her being a knockout beauty while you were merely average on your best day, she had other qualities that made her a more appealing catch. She was most likely younger than you, obviously fit, more ambitious and professionally driven than you, and presumably has no kids.

Meanwhile, you were just an old stay-at-home mom who lived off of her husband’s paychecks while he fucked his coworkers behind her oblivious back.

Before you could draw more detailed comparisons between Sana and yourself, you felt a large hand place itself on the middle of your back, successfully guiding your attention to the only person who bothered staying by your side.

Jin smiled sadly at you, sympathy shadowing his expression as he gestured with his other hand to the empty cup still in your hold. “Let’s get you some more eggnog.”

You nodded wordlessly, still speechless from the interaction, and allowed the taller man to guide you towards the snack table. Jin then took your cup and refilled it himself, providing you the opportunity to pick at the catered food in some cheap attempt at stress eating. By the time Jin came back with a full cup, you were halfway done with a sugar cookie and eyeing the meatballs next.

“Here ya go,” Jin said as he handed over the drink to you. You took it and nodded in thanks but kept your eyes glued to the food, not wanting him to see just how defeated and tired your face probably was. But, Jin wasn’t going to let the whole thing go. “Y/n….I know what you saw and heard looks really bad but trust me….nothing is going on between Sana and Jungkook.”

You snorted. “It doesn’t just look bad, Jin. It was like they were practically rubbing it in my face. Him having an affair isn’t the problem, it’s the way they’re not even bothering to keep it down. The least they could do is be discreet.”

Jin’s jaw slightly dropped, “‘Him having an affair isn’t the problem’? Y/n, do you even hear yourself? Of course that would be a problem! Do you not care about your own marriage anymore?”

And there it was.

The big question.

Did you truly even care about this marriage?

Well, let’s look at the facts.

One: The disrespect of his alleged mistress was more offensive to you than the fact that she was a mistress.

Two: Jungkook dragging you along to this office Christmas party was the first time in over a year that he bothered to take you out.

Three: You two had humble beginnings and could barely afford food, much less wedding bands when you first got married, but now he was a very wealthy man and had no excuse for not buying you or himself a ring. Unless, of course, he enjoyed acting single around other women.

Four: And on top of all this, it had to be factored in how distant he has been with overwhelming work hours that prevented any alone time with your husband. Sex with Jungkook has been off the table for almost a year now.

But did any of this really bother you until tonight? The answer was a resounding no. You were willing to take all those burdens in stride but tonight it wasn’t just about the fact that you were the unwanted wife Jungkook got sacked with, it was the fact that you were humiliated and forced to face the type of girl Jungkook should’ve been married to all along. That was all you were truly upset about.

The conclusion that you indeed didn’t care about your marriage and haven’t in some time now hit you in a sudden wave, but in no way were you shocked.

Voice shaky and brittle, you allowed yourself to be vulnerable with Jin and say the one thing you always secretly thought but never dared utter out loud. “I-I guess I always expected it to end like this. When we were younger, he was always the popular one and all the girls wanted him. We were only dating for three months when I got pregnant, and if it weren’t for our son he probably would’ve dumped me eventually and left for another girl. But, he stuck around for his kid because he’s a good father. And I’ve been nothing but a burden to him for a while now.”

Tears began to blur your vision, forcing you to quickly duck down and quietly sip at your drink so as to not embarrass yourself even more.

You heard a shuffle and suddenly Jin was holding you, using both of his lengthy arms to cage you in and rest you against his broad chest. It had been a long time since a man had held you like that, and you practically went boneless at the contact. You closed your eyes and tried to will away the incoming tears, even going so far as to solely focus on the scent of Jin’s cologne as he soothingly said, “Y/n, listen closely to what I’m about to say. You and Hugo were never a burden to Jungkook, and you two never will be. Your marriage was sudden, but it doesn’t make it less valid than any other marriage out there. Jungkook has been with you for so long, he just doesn’t realize when other women are interested in him because he’s been off the market forever. But I promise you, if I knew for even a second that he cheated, I would tell you right away.”

You didn’t say anything.

Although Jin’s words were comforting, they weren’t necessarily true. A marriage that started from a healthy courtship and true love instead of inconvenient circumstances was of course more valid than yours. And even though you were sure of Jin’s honesty and loyalty to you, Jungkook could’ve easily kept his affair secret from Jin as well.

However, you didn’t wish to concern Jin anymore. You already put him through too much awkwardness tonight and didn’t want to keep him by your side as some sort of emotional sponsor any longer than you already have. Jin always loved parties and was the life of any one he was invited to, even if it was just a lame annual office gathering. You then felt guilty for putting Jin in a situation where he would even have to console you when he should be out enjoying karaoke with the rest of his coworkers.

You promptly pulled away from Jin and wiped at your face. He released you and also took a step back, carefully studying you for any signs of further turmoil. Once sure that your face was acceptably dry, you gazed back up at him and offered a thankful smile. “Thanks Jin, I’m sorry I just dumped all of that on you. I really have to use the ladies' room though, can you point me to it?”

“It’s right by the conference room,” Jin informed, pointing out the general direction for you. You nodded and took a few steps toward it before he grasped your wrist to stop you and ask, “Do you want me to wait for you?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll just find you and Jungkook when I’m out. Go and join the others for karaoke.”

Jin nodded but seemed unsure.

You didn’t look back to see if he actually went to follow the others, instead just advancing to the restrooms, secretly looking forward to some alone time even if it had to come from a public bathroom.

Once you entered the restroom you were relieved to find it completely empty, you weren’t sure if you could handle another run-in with Jungkook’s female colleagues. They all seemed to have a personal vendetta against you.

Instantly, you dashed to the mirror to inspect your makeup, assuming at least the mascara was ruined from your little cry. Thankfully, the damage was minimal and you were able to clean the smudges up with a damp napkin. You focused all your attention on the dreadfully small task, trying not to study your reflection too much given it would just conjure up more mental comparisons to all the other prettier women you encountered that night.

Yet the small task couldn’t last a lifetime, and you had to resort to looking at your phone in search of things to do. You weren’t emotionally ready to go out and search for your husband, so you wanted to prolong your time in the bathroom. Although it hasn’t been that long since you left the house, you decided to text the babysitter for any updates about your son.

To Emily: Hey, is everything okay with Hugo?

It only took about 40 seconds for the teenage neighbor girl to text back an answer, clearly on top of things and overly eager to provide any updates.

Emily: Yes! He ate his dinner, took his bath and we’re about to get ready for bed.

Your motherly instincts were satisfied with that response, but it didn’t do anything to subdue your desire to return back home. Your thumbs briefly hovered over the keypad, somewhat hesitant with the next text you were about to send.

To Emily: Great, thanks again for doing this. Listen, I think we might head back home sooner than we thought. Don’t worry tho, I’ll still give you the pay for the full four hours.

Before you could wait for a response from her, the sound of multiple incoming footsteps interrupted the steady silence in the restroom. Muffled female conversation could also be heard, the slight laughter and bickering amongst a group of women approaching the bathroom. Your fight or flight instinct was triggered, and to avoid any more awkward encounters you rushed to the nearest stall and shut the door- fully prepared to wait out the faceless group of female colleagues.

You heard the restroom door swish open before the women burst in, chatting and giggling with their heels clicking against the tile floor. One of the unknown females made way to the stall beside you, the others presumably hovering by the mirror if the sudden comments about their appearances were anything to go by. You quietly sighed and pulled out your phone again, ready to drown out their office politics talk.

Only for the conversation to somehow steer towards you.

“Did you see her?”

“Of course, I was very confused, to be honest.” One of them replied. “I mean….look at Jungkook and you just assume that whoever he’s with is drop-dead gorgeous, and she was just eh.”

“Yeah, she was pretty plain. What was her name again?”

“Y/n.” A third voice cut in, this one eerily familiar to you.

You glued a hand over your mouth to silence your gasp.

It was Sana.

“Did he ever mention her around you? You are the closest to him in the office Sana, and we didn’t even know he had a wife until tonight.”

“No, I didn’t know until tonight either.”

“What?! That’s insane. Literally all the time he spends with you: getting coffee, buying you lunch, driving you home after late nights, and he conveniently never mentions that he has a wife at home?”

“That’s suspicious. But I guess if I had a dog like that at home, I’d never mention her either.”

Cruel laughter from all of them.

The toilet from the stall next to you flushed, then opened as a new voice entered the discussion while she approached the sinks.

“It’s more than suspicious. He doesn’t even wear a wedding ring. And he’s so close to Sana but never mentioned that he’s married?” A pause as she washed her hands. “It’s obvious what he’s trying to do. Jungkook is trying to have an affair with Sana.”

Although this exchange was extremely hurtful to you, you felt somewhat relieved that you weren’t the only one to see what your husband was doing.

A pause hung in the air as none of the women spoke for a minute, they were willing to gossip but apparently outright declaring the obvious was a step too far for them.

Eventually, one of them chimed in with their own observation.

“Can you blame him? Sana you’re the most beautiful person in the office and you look so good next to him anyway. Much better than that cow Y/n.”

Another round of obnoxious laughter that broke your heart.

“C’mon guys. We gotta head back. Jungkook is gonna get anxious if Sana is away for too long.” Someone teased.

They all murmured in agreement, heading towards the exit as a group before one stopped them with a final question.

“Wait, Sana. If Jungkook does want to have an affair with you, what are you going to do?”

Although you couldn’t physically see Sana, you practically heard the smirk on her face as she said, “Who says we already aren’t having one?”

--

Needless to say, you ditched the Christmas party almost immediately after the bathroom incident.

You texted Jungkook a white lie about Emily struggling with Hugo, although a good father would’ve known something was up because your son had never given babysitters any trouble before. But luckily, your husband also wasn’t doing so hot in the dad department either.

You would’ve felt bad for not telling the truth if the truth wasn’t so fucking embarrassing.

“Hey, I’m gonna go home to cry like a little girl because I caught your coworkers talking shit about me. Oh, and also your little girlfriend accidentally let it slip that you’ve been fucking her this whole time. K talk to ya later!”

You grimaced at the thought of actually sending that text.

Sure it’s what that cheating bastard deserves, but you just weren’t emotionally ready for that fight yet. Especially after the night you endured, you needed some time to pick yourself up and figure out what to do next.

Divorce was the next logical step, but you were financially dependent on Jungkook. If you moved out and took Hugo with you, where would you two stay? How could you afford to be a single parent? And if Jungkook were to try to fight you for custody or the divorce in general, you would need a damn good lawyer. Unfortunately, lawyers weren’t cheap, especially one that stood a chance against Jungkook and all his wealth.

Your shoulders sagged with the imaginary weight of all these burdens.

When you entered the high-rise penthouse that you called home, you were surprised to see Emily anxiously pacing the foyer in waiting for your arrival.

“Hey, how was Hugo?” You greeted politely, already opening your clutch to pull out the agreed-upon salary.

“M-Mrs. Jeon, I swear I tried to have him in bed by eight like you said but he’s being stubborn and said he won’t go to sleep until you come back and read to him-” The teenager rushed out all at once, clearly nervous that you would scold her.

You held a hand out to stop her rambles, using your other hand to give her the money, and offered her what you hoped was a comforting smile, “It’s okay, Em. Thanks for doing this on such short notice. Why don’t you run home now and try to enjoy your Christmas Eve?”

Emily looked relieved that you weren’t mad, gratefully taking the cash before grabbing her jacket and shoes to make her exit. “Thanks so much for this Mrs. Jeon. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas.” You farewelled while walking the young girl out, locking the door behind her.

You turned around and proceeded down a long hallway that led to the bedrooms, stopping at the door beside the master room which belonged to your four-year-old son. You opened it to peer inside, the familiar deep blue walls with painted-on sea creatures greeting you back, swiftly reminding you once more of Hugo’s obsession with the ocean.

Your son was bundled up in a twin bed so big that it practically drowned him, his small frame barely being recognizable in the large fish-printed duvet wrapped around his tiny frame, only his small and adorable face peeking out to stare right back at you.

Hugo was essentially a carbon copy of Jungkook. At first you were somewhat resentful about this, how was it possible that you carried a baby for nine months and he came out with absolutely none of your features? But after a while of watching Hugo grow up and come into his own slowly but surely, you were pacified by the conclusion that while he may look exactly like his father, his personality and heart took after you.

“Dumpling, why did Emily say you were giving her a hard time and wouldn’t go to bed?” You asked gently, sitting by his side and petting his black hair.

‘Dumpling’ was a nickname you chose for Hugo since you first found out you were pregnant with him. It stemmed from your sudden pregnancy craving to eat dumplings and nothing else, you once even going two straight weeks surviving off the food. There were many times where Jungkook had to bribe you into eating other things, playing on your guilt for not providing your baby all the nutrition he needed. But even now ‘Dumpling’ still stuck, if Hugo’s chubby cheeks were anything to go by.

“Mommy, I-I’m sorry but-” His big doe eyes looked up at you in teary guilt, “I really needed you here. It was a nece-necess-”

“Necessity, bub.” You finished for him, grinning at his attempt at a big word.

Part of you wanted to scold the boy for being difficult, but you didn’t have the heart to. Lately, Hugo has been more clingy to you than ever before. Yet it was practically impossible to punish him because Hugo has always been a good kid and you knew deep down that he didn’t act out unless there was something else going on. You suspected that it had something to do with the lack of his father’s presence that forced him to hold onto you like his life depended on it.

“Well try not to do it again, okay? Emily is a nice girl and she’s just following my orders when she tells you to go to bed.” You said, ducking down to peck the crown of his head and continue running your fingers through his hair.

Hugo nodded in understanding but ultimately stayed silent, basking in your cuddles.

All was silent for a passing moment, and while Hugo enjoyed his mother’s touch, your mind gradually returned to the turmoil that was your marriage.

A sudden epiphany struck you and bit your lip as you debated an idea.

Should you expose your son to your future plan?

The victim of any divorce has always been the children who were left behind. And the last thing you wanted to do was blindside Hugo. Perhaps you should play the hypothetical game just to see where your son’s head was at? It went without saying that Hugo was closer to you than Jungkook and you were more of a parent than your husband. But still, every kid deserved to have a say in their parents’ divorce.

“Bub, how would you feel if….it was just me and you?” You hesitantly inquired.

“What do you mean mommy?” Hugo titled his head in bewilderment and craned his neck to look back up at you.

“What if me and you went away to live together?” You clarified.

“Like a va-vayca-”

“Vacation? And no. But forever. Just me, you and no one else.” You whispered, as if Jungkook himself would storm in and catch you planning your escape with the toddler.

“Oh.” A pause as you could practically hear the mechanisms in his four-year-old brain trying to work out the logistics of what you just proposed. “Okay.”

The nonchalance in his youthful voice had you taken aback.

“It’s a really big decision, Hugo. You wouldn’t mind...not living with daddy anymore, right? You would hardly ever see him, dumpling.”

The boy shifted to lean more of his body against you, essentially resting against you with his head on your chest as he said, “But it’s like that already, mommy.”

Your heart broke.

You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him closer to you, feeling a maternal instinct to comfort and protect.

“Okay Dumpling. I need you to promise me not to tell daddy what we talked about.”

“”Kay.” Hugo yawned and closed his eyes, inhaling deep breaths of your scent and beginning the process of falling asleep. “When do we leave?”

“It’ll take some time, bub. You start school in a few months, so mommy will try to find a job while you’re there.” You told him, not bothering to try to explain the concept of a lawyer or apartment deposits on top of that. “But we can do this. It has to be a secret but you're my partner in crime.”

“Like spies?”

You chuckled, “Yeah, like spies. Promise to work with mommy in utter secrecy?”

You held up a pinky, one that Hugo grasped with his own.

“Promise.”

Author’s Note:  So....A while ago before I took my long ass hiatus, I did a poll for which yandere story I should write next.  The Unsaid Vow won but that was around the same time that shit hit the fan in my life.  Recently was scrolling through my notes on my phone and found some of the plot points for this story and I needed a lil break from QQ.  Plus I know so many ppl were hyped for this concept so....Here ya go lol.  This is kinda short but it’s just a set up, Chapter one’s plot line will start a few months after this when Hugo will start kindergarten and Y/n will actually start looking in to jobs, lawyers and apartments.  Also I’m sorry but I’m really bad at writing for kids lol, and I absolutely refuse to write that gross ass baby talk so just pretend your son is a lil genius okay? Also srry Once but I needed really pretty girls to be villians in my story so yeah, Twice girls in here aren’t likable but aren’t reflective of how i actually feel about them lol.

Big thanks to @sushireads​ once again for creating the cover art for this fic.  They literally are becoming my go-to for fic art.

And my beta readers @bigbuffjoonie and @mustardpop​! They beta’d for QQ and I came to them really early about this fic.  They were with me since the beginning and have given me advice with creative choices to just simple grammar.  They easily could’ve leaked the first draft of this too but they didn’t and kept it secret for a while.  I was really insecure about getting out of my comfort zone with this plot but they really guided me.  

[angry-geese]

Can I request nsfw+fluff gojo x fem!reader? (established relationships) Just gojo being horny and needy after weeks not seeing reader due to work. (Uuuu and may I add breeding kink too <3 ) Lmaooo what's wrong with me✋🏻😔 I love your works btw and just take your time💕💕 here *slides a cookie 🍪 *

YESSSS gojo + breeding kink is top tier. i got a little carried away with this one lol

When We Meet Again

Gojo Satoru x Reader

Warnings: shameless smut. oral (fem receiving), creampies, mating press, unprotected sex, fingering, fluff and smut. slight somnophilia (kinda??) fem!reader

Word Count: 3.7k

jjk masterlist

It's well past midnight by the time he gets home.

Save for a single light in the kitchen, the apartment is dark. Leftover pastries sit out on the counter, covered with a bowl to keep bugs from getting to them, alongside your keys, and an empty mug of tea. A grocery list has been stuck to the fridge. A rack of dishes sits beside the sink, drying.

You're not in your usual spot on the couch. He's not surprised. It's late. And though you don't have work in the morning, you were never one to stay up so long. You must have gone to bed already. You might have stayed up had he bothered to tell you he was coming home. But he didn't. His plans changed at the last moment, and not even he knew he'd be back so soon.

He hates being gone this long. He misses sleeping in his own bed. Sometimes he forgets just how cold a bed can be without someone else in it.

The door to your shared room is open. Though it's dark. There's a faint green glow from the alarm clock on the side table. The moon is full enough tonight to provide a bit of light; a pale silver glow fills the room. And there you are, curled up on his side of the bed. In one of his shirts. A black button up that’s a bit too big for you, with sleeves that hang well past your fingertips.

It's not like he can refuse. If he’s getting called out to help, then there's probably not someone who can go in his place. The strongest doesn't really have time to take a vacation. He’s on call 24/7. Between his teaching job at Jujutsu Tech, and the major clans of Jujutsu society constantly demanding his attention, he’s rather short on free time.

It was a tedious job. Not worth his time. Not particularly tough, albeit time consuming. But the previous two sorcerers came back with nothing. And so he was sent out. Cleaning up someone else's mess.

The first week he called every day. The job wasn’t supposed to take any longer than that. Or so you both assumed. As the second rolled through, your calls grew shorter, and less frequent. He found himself frustrated with the lack of contact. It wasn't either of your faults. Your work called for you to be out during the little free time he had. Overtime. When you did have time to call each other, you were often exhausted, and short with him. The distance was putting a strain on your relationship.

The worst part of it all; he couldn't fuck you. And for a man that could go multiple rounds in a day, that was miserable. His love language is touch. Not being able to hold you was… well, miserable.

You don't really know the extent of the effect you have on him.

He's too tired to change, and he showered before he left, so he strips to his boxers and pulls his side of the blankets aside. Tomorrow is laundry day anyway. You always choose Sundays for laundry day, because that's the day before you have to go back to work. There's just enough room between you and the edge of the bed for him to slip in.

When something makes him stop dead in his tracks.

It's your voice. You’re calling out his name. You aren't awake, and though you do sometimes talk in your sleep, tonight is different. When it does happen, it's usually nonsense. Soft, endearing babble that he can't help but listen to. He says your name, softly, but you don't respond. Enough moonlight streams in through the window to see your face. Your brows are knit in concentration—possibly frustration—and sweat beads in your hairline.

Are you having a nightmare?

The bed dips under his weight as he sits, resting a hand on your thigh. Your skin is rather warm, he notes. You roll over onto your side, burying your face in his pillow. He pulls the blankets up, tucking them around your shoulders, as you’ve kicked them down by your feet in your sleep.

There it is again. You say his name, but there's a level of desperation behind it.

There's no denying the wetness between your thighs. You squeeze your thighs together in an unconscious attempt to get some relief. Your breathing is labored.

It's only a moment later that the realization kicks in.

The grin that splits his face can only be described as malicious in nature.

His hand creeps higher on your thigh, nudging the hem of your—his—shirt up. You’re not wearing anything underneath. The sight of your slick cunt is nearly enough to make his cock stand to attention.

His gaze falls to the curve of your hips, just barely illuminated by the moonlight. He likes the light of you in his shirt a little more than he likes to admit. Though he’s never been quiet about how much he appreciates your body.

Your body freezes the moment his thumb grazes across your slit. So does he. You’re so wet. Must be a real nice dream. You roll onto your back, your legs parted slightly. The soft gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Gojo takes this as an invitation to continue, his hand moving further up your thigh, lazily tracing circles into it.

You must've missed him more than he expected.

Your body registers that someone is touching you before it registers just who is doing such. In your sleepy, dream-ridden state you don't recognize the figure in front of you. In the dim light of the room, you can make out a mess of white hair, and the reflection of dark, round glasses shoved up into his hairline. Gojo’s eyes practically reflect in the dark.

You jolt awake, sitting up. “Jesus christ-”

“‘S just me, Mochi,” he says, though it does little to settle your nerves.

If you weren't awake before, you certainly are now.

“What? You watch people in their sleep now?!” You scold. “‘Toru- you scared the hell out of me!”

You flop back on the bed. The blankets pool around your hips. You reach to pull them back up, finding your bed colder than usual.

"You were calling out my name." He says.

"Oh," you say, and though there's little light in the room, he watches your face flush, "must have been dreaming about you."

“Wanna recreate what you were dreaming?” He asks. Rather smugly, might you add.

You roll your eyes. “Go to sleep.”

"Scoot over then. I'm gonna fall off the bed."

This prompts an evil sounding giggle from you, followed by a: "fall then."

"Alright," he says, rolling over to lay on you, throwing his arm around your waist. You’re effectively pinned under him, as the awkward angle won't allow you any leverage to throw him off. He attacks the exposed part of your neck with kisses, sucking hickeys into the flesh of your neck and shoulders. His hair tickles your skin.

“‘Toru- stop!” You squeal. “Let me go-”

“Not until you apologize,” he says, planting a wet kiss on your jaw.

“Never!”

“Then I guess I won't let you go.”

His arms wrap around you from behind, pulling you flush to his chest. One of his hands finds your own, his fingers lacing with yours. His legs tangle with yours in a way that holds them in place. Worming out of his grip in this position would be a near impossible task.

You suppose there’s worse fates than this.

It would be easier to stay awake if he wasn't so warm. Or if he didn't smell so nice. Or if he wasn't softly rocking your body with each breath he takes. His thumb traces soft circles around your knuckles. Gojo’s breath is warm against your neck, making goosebumps rise along the soft flesh. The steady sound of it is almost enough to lull you to sleep.

"I missed you." You say. Your voice is almost too soft to hear.

“I know.” He says. His arms give your midsection a reaffirming squeeze. “I missed you too.”

“How was work?”

“A shitshow,” he says, leaning to nip at your earlobe, “but I get to come home to you, so it’s not all bad. How’s everything been around here?”

“Quiet.” You say. “Kinda boring without you. I wish you told me you’d be home tonight. I would have done something special.”

“It was a spur of the moment decision.” He says. “I didn't expect to be home so soon either.”

“We should do something tomorrow, then,” you say, “a new ramen place opened up down the street. You know where the old bakery used to be? They leased the place out.”

Gojo hums in response. Ramen sounds nice. Especially now. But he’s too tired and too horny to worry about food. Why have ramen when he has a meal right in front of him? Or a snack, as he often likes to call you. To which you roll your eyes, but there's no denying how he makes you blush.

You take back what you said about finding it easy to sleep. He’s moving around a bit too much for that. Gojo isn't subtle about it either. Nothing about the man is. He foregos subtly in favor of announcing nearly everything he does. Loudly. Who would dare stop him?

But you guess it's part of his charm. His dorky, sappy charm. You’ve kind of signed up for it, so you’re not complaining.

You scoot away from the edge of the bed a bit, thinking he needs more room. Gojo pulls you back to his chest, thinking you’re trying to run away from him.

“Quit squirming.” You hiss.

“Sorry Mochi,” he says, “just tryna get comfortable.”

And he really does mean it. But he’s been gone from you for so long that he's forgotten how nice your body feels against his. A little too nice, he’ll admit. Phone sex is nice, but it's not the same as the real thing. It gets old after a while. His hand doesn't quite compare to yours. Or the real thing. Something hard presses against your thigh from behind.

That's when it clicks. You just smell so nice. Your body is so warm against his. You look so nice in his shirt. Can you really blame him for getting hard?

You aren't sure he knows that you know. You shift a bit. It appears you’re only trying to get comfortable. His grip around your waist loosens, allowing you to settle a bit closer to him. You can't help it if your shirt rides up a bit, exposing the perfect curve of your ass. He prefers you in nothing at all, though the sight of you wearing his clothes is certainly a nice one. Any sight of you is. Gojo is shameless in the way he adores your body.

Once settled, his arms return to your waist. His head falls into the crook of your neck. He’s doing little to hide the tent he sports in his boxers. Maybe he thinks you don't notice. Or maybe he’s trying to ignore it.

“Stop that,” he says.

“I'm not doing anything,” you say, with the same evil giggle as before.

“Why do I not believe you?”

His lips find your neck, sucking a dark mark into your pulsepoint. The sudden sensation of lips on your neck makes you squeal. In your ear he coos every sappy nickname in the book that makes you blush.

You hardly notice as his hand trails lower. Your legs part just enough for him to slip his hand between them. He does nothing but seek out your warmth. Yet.

A familiar tension returns to your stomach. It's not unpleasant.

So that's what he was doing. Not that you’re complaining.

“Missed you, Mochi,” he says, gasping at the wet feeling of your cunt, “missed you so much. You have any clue what it's like being around all those weird old men all day? For days on end, no end in sight?”

It always surprises you just how bad the man can be with words, yet how good he is with his mouth.

His fingers find your clit, drawing lazy circles around the bundle of nerves. Your breath catches in your throat. You can't deny how nice his long fingers feel inside of you.

“Seems like you’ve missed me too.” He says, his breath warm against your ear.

“Whatever you want to think, old man,” you say. Though you have missed him. You always do. But there's some fun to be had by teasing him.

“Old man?!” He sounds genuinely hurt. “Don't be like that. I know you like having me around.”

“Oh really? What makes you think that?”

His fingers move to press into the tight entrance of your cunt, his thumb brushing across your clit. The soft gasp that leaves you is practically music to his ears. To give him credit, he is good with his hands.

“Did you think about me while I was gone,” he coos, “did you touch yourself while you did it? I did. Couldn't keep my mind off this sweet cunt of yours. I think I want a taste.”

Your only response is a soft moan. Heat pools low in your stomach, growing in intensity with each skilled movement of his hand. He moves so you can lay on your back. Your hands find the sheets, holding them in a death grip. Gojo nudges your legs further apart with one of his knees.

The kiss he pulls you into is uncharacteristically soft, and needy. He moans nearly as loud as you when you nibble on his bottom lip, hips lips parting, allowing the strong muscle of your tongue to explore his mouth.

Your hands work to undo the top few buttons of your shirt, exposing your breasts. His free hand comes up to grope appreciatively at your tits. Gojo has never been shy about how much he adores them. Or shy ever, to his credit. You’re his, and he would show you off to the world if you’d let him.

But sometimes he prefers to steal you into his domain, and hold you there. Close. Where you’ll always be at his side. The one place in this universe he can truly promise you’ll be safe.

You hardly notice as his kisses trail down your neck. Down the valley between your breasts. Working the last few buttons of your shirt open with his long fingers. What you do notice is the sudden absence of his hand.

Your legs part to give him room to settle between them. His head rests on your stomach. His warm breath tickles your skin.

"You gonna let me have a taste?" He asks, nipping at your thigh.

You swallow hard, eyes locked on him. Slowly, you nod.

You gasp at the feeling of his warm tongue, licking a stripe from your bellybutton to your mound. He's not touching you where you need him most. And that frustrates you. You buck your hips up towards his mouth, eliciting a soft laugh from him. He can't tease you too long. His cock is painfully hard, leaking against his thigh in his boxers. He can only hold himself back for so long.

You freeze at the feeling of a hot tongue against your clit.

Gojo eats pussy like a starving man, presented with his favorite meal. He does nothing short of savoring you. How you smell, how you taste, how you sound. He's shameless in how he adores this. Gojo moans nearly as loud as you at the taste of your cunt. Sweeter than his favorite dish. Meant to be savored.

You can't deny that he's good with his mouth. His tongue works circles around your clit, drawing gasps and moans from you.

Heat builds in your stomach, drawing you closer to your impending orgasm. One that comes upon you far sooner than expected.

Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

Your thighs clench around his head as you cum hard. He lets you ride out your orgasm on his tongue, working you through it with his skilled mouth. He’d stay with his head between your legs forever if you’d let him. Which you don't, as overstimulation soon registers in your lust addled mind, and you shove his head away.

The lower half of his face glistens in the dim light, wet with saliva, and your own slick. He’s far from subtle in the way he licks his lips, or groans at your taste. He may have gotten a bit too excited. It's not unlike him to get carried away. How can he resist a fertile cunt like yours?

“I think you should taste yourself,” he says. His hands move to cup your face as he pulls you into a kiss. You taste yourself on his lips. His hardened cock grinds against his thigh.

“‘Toru-” you whine.

“What's the matter baby?” He coos. “Use your words.”

“Fuck me.” You say. “I need you, ‘Toru. I need your cock in me.”

“Why didn't you say so?” He says, though the desperation in his voice is palpable.

He wastes no time in shoving his boxers down his hips, freeing his cock.

He’s not the most intimidating in size, but his cock is nice, and fairly thick, with a slight upward curve. The patch of hairs towards the base are soft, and white. Generally you don't need a whole lot of prep to take him. Which is helpful when he can't keep his hands to himself, and insists on fucking you in the bathroom during dinner. As much as he likes to take his time with you, he’ll take you anywhere you’ll let him. At work, or over every flat surface of your apartment. Not a single room of your home was spared. Not that either of you mind.

“Gotta work you open first,” he says, “don't want you to be too tight, do we?”

Between his saliva, and your own slick, you put up little resistance. He’s able to slide one finger in. Then a second, with no issue. His fingers curve, stroking your g-spot. His thumb works soft circles around your sensitive clit as he works you open with his fingers. Really, this is unnecessary. Your cunt is practically dripping with your own arousal.

He makes a show of licking his fingers, groaning at the taste of you. Gojo really has no shame.

The moan he lets out as he sheathes himself is truly sinful.

It's another moment before he starts thrusting.

Gojo needs a moment to collect himself. He’s been working himself up for hours if not days. All the nights he spent, thinking of what he’d do to you once he got home. He’s gone over this day in his head about a hundred times.

The sound of his hips slapping against yours fills the room. His taunts turn into senseless babble. Strands of praise mixed with Gojo’s overall dorky remarks. Pleas of your name, calling you mochi, baby, honey, and every other sappy nickname he can think of. His head falls into the crook of your neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. He’s not going to let you leave this bed until you’re thoroughly marked up.

Tension grows in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. Your previous orgasm has left you overly sensitive, and leaves another orgasm creeping up on you sooner than expected. His hand falls to your stomach, working lower until his thumb finds your clit, rubbing the sensitive nub.

He presses your legs further back, shoving them almost to your chest. The stretch leaves a pleasant burn in your hips. Your body isn't really meant to bend this way, though it’s not completely uncomfortable. It's not long before he has you into a full mating press, rutting against you desperately, fucking you into the mattress. The bed frame groans in protest with each of his thrusts. Deep, and unrelenting. Gojo’s cock curves in such a way that hits your sweet spots just right, leaving you writing under him.

“Gonna put a baby in you, Mochi,” he says, “gonna breed this pretty cunt of yours.”

You nod along desperately. You want nothing more than for him to cum inside, filling you completely.

He silences your moan with a kiss, his teeth clashing against yours. His tongue presses past your lips, exploring the wet cavern of your mouth. You can still taste yourself on him.

A line of saliva connects your lips as he pulls away.

“Not gonna ask you to take all of it,” he says, “but take everything I got.”

And with that, he can't hold back any longer, painting your womb white. Gojo’s cum is normally thick, and there's normally a lot of it. Today even moreso. Two weeks away hasn't helped with that. Cum runs down your thighs in streams, ruining your sheets.

The elders aren't going to be happy that he’s so reckless with his precious seed, but Gojo couldn't give a damn. The elders can talk all they want. That's all they're good for. He gets to cum in a warm place, and that's more than any of the others can say.

He practically collapses on top of you.

Gojo shifts so less of his body weight is on top of you. And though the room is rather warm, you find yourself nuzzling into his body, seeking out his warmth. His arms have always given you a sense of security, especially when wrapped up in them. They find your waist, pulling your back flush to his chest.

For a moment the two of you lay there, basking in each other's warmth.

You’ll have to get up in a bit anyway. To clean yourself up, and change the sheets. And get a new shirt. Probably another one of Gojo’s. He’s never been against seeing you wear his clothes. They never stay on you for long, though.

You pry his arms off, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, but he notices, and tightens his grip.

“Where do you think you’re going?” He asks, sounding rather offended.

“To get a drink,” you say, “I'm thirsty. Why? Do you want one too?”

“You think I’d let you go after just one round?” He asks. “You’re not leaving this bed until I’ve fucked you full of my cum.”

You're in for a long night.

[dollwritesarchive]

“i hate this part.” “what part?” “seeing you happy without me.” + billy russo, he's the one who's saying the 1st and third line. please spare me no pain, i need to cry

being TOTALLY honest, i don’t know if this is really as sad & cry-worthy as it is just.. infuriating jdkdkd

𝒹𝓇𝓊𝓂 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒶 𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓉 | ᥇.᥅.

fandom marvel

featuring billy russo x ex!reader (f)

rating sfw, heed warnings

content warning poorly written angst, suggestions of domestic violence, allusions of mistreatment & a toxic relationship

summary maybe, he hoped you were as miserable as he was.

word count 1.3k / mini musing

attention not proofread. please reblog. do not copy/translate/repost.

you were trying your best to ignore it. to ignore him, and the way your stomach knotted up when you saw him. just sitting there, his oblivion gaze flickering to your table every so often. you felt sick when his eyes were upon you, hit by a tidal wave of memories.

the fights. all the screaming. your tears outlining the pain in mascara over your cheeks. you thought about the last night you spent with him, and how your bags had been packed by the door, and yet you lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of his breathing. he wasn’t sleeping, he was doing the same. you were crying, and not once did he wrap his arms around you for comfort, not once did he move an inch— just laid there, listening to the sound of your broken heart like a glass shattering on the floor. you might as well have been miles apart, because the few inches between you felt like an ocean of unspoken words.

“Babe?” your fiancé’s voice pulls you out of the memory; he’s in the booth across from you, and his head is cocked to the side, wariness plain on the soft countenance. “Where’d you go?”

“Huh?” you mutter, testing the strength of your voice. it wasn’t as strong as you’d like, so you can only imagine what you must’ve looked like, staring into space with your eyes welling up with tears, breathing getting faster, “Oh, uh, sorry. Nowhere, I’m right here.” you force a smile and reach over to hold his hand on the table, ring glinting under the dim lamps. you don’t look to Billy again, because despite the fact that every memory you kept of your time with him was a shitty one, your heart still aches to see him. your feet still yearn to carry you to him. your hands still try to reach out and take his face, and your lips want nothing more than to plant themselves against his.

pathetic, you thought.

“What were you saying?”

“Oh,” your fiancé shrugs, before his hand careens to take yours, lacing his fingers between yours, “just about the cake, I mean, do you really want Devil’s Food? We can get any flavor under the moon, ya know?”

“What’s wrong with Devil’s Food?” you tease, squeezing his hand and wearing a playful smirk.

“Nothing!” he replies, playfully defensive, “I’m just saying— I love you, but I will have to laugh if you get big, brown chunks of cake caught in your teeth during the reception, you know that right?”

you both crack up, and for a moment, you forget about Billy in the corner. with him, you ended up smiling until it hurt, laughing until you cried, and loving every moment of it.

“There’s a problem with your card, sir,” the waitress approaches, looking meek and apologetic as she shifts on her heels. frowning, you look up at the same time as your fiancé.

“What’s up? Did it get declined?”

“No… not exactly. We just need you to call your bank and confirm the payment.”

he nods, sliding out of the booth seat, “Sure, yeah I’ll handle it.” he looks to you, smiles just as apologetically, and reaches up to kiss the back of your hand before he lets go of it, “Meet you outside?”

you nod, already reaching to gather your belongings, “Sure, yeah, do what you have to do.” and he strode off, tagging along behind the waitress whilst putting his phone to his ear. once alone, you nibble on your lip, eyes flickering to the table in the corner. you catch Billy’s gaze this time, and something in your stomach turns. you have to go over there. there’s anger and confusion swirling within your stomach when you hitch the strap of your purse on to your shoulder and stomp over to the table, crossing your arms over your chest; he’s looking down, into his nearly empty beer bottle when you reach him. “What are you doing here?”

he shrugs, bringing the beer to his lips.

it wasn’t enough for you. “Are you following me?”

“I was in the neighborhood,” he replies, flippantly.

“Bullshit.” you knew he was lying, but you also knew he would never admit it if he were.

“He seems nice.”

you scoff— something deep inside you, something warm you once held for Billy Russo had died and was decomposing in the cavity he left in your heart. “Yeah, he is.”

his brow quirks when he finally looks over at you, “And, since when do you like nice guys?”

stand your ground. “Maybe I just got tired of the assholes,” you reply, the words felt like acid on your tongue; you had to expel it before it destroyed you, “and, of course, the obvious perks.”

“Which are?”

“He doesn’t make me cry and he’s never killed anyone.” your brows furrowed, and you notice the grip on the neck of his bottle grows tighter. good, you think, it felt good to get to him like he always got to you. “He’s never once hit me, or even threatened—“

“Yeah?” Billy cuts you off with a snort as he points to you with his bottle, “Just give him time, sweetheart. He’s gonna be just like every other guy you’ve ever known. He’ll be just like me.”

you feel sick. shaking your head, you glance towards him. he doesn’t see you over here, which was probably for the best. turning back to the table, you place both hands on it, leaning close to whisper your words like they held a dirty secret. “No, you’re wrong, Billy. He’s not like you, which is why I love him the way you’d never let me love you.” once said, you push yourself off from the table and turn to traipse towards the door.

“I hate this part.”

you stop; against your better judgement, you stop in your tracks and turn to look at him again. your heart rate kicks up, and you grip the strap of your bag with one hand, eyes narrowed. “What part?”

Billy stands up from the table, slow, tugs on the hem of his shirt to straighten it out, before he takes a couple of steps towards you. you take a couple of steps back. old habits die hard, and you weren’t sure what Billy was capable of doing, anymore. he pauses when he sees the reaction, watching a subtle fear spread across your countenance, a cautiousness learned on the palm of his hand. for a moment, you can see an ugly, glaring visage of guilt wither his typical stoicism. “Seeing you happy without me.”

“Let’s not lie to each other anymore, Billy,” you mutter, hands shaking so you hide them from him. “I was never happy with you, and you weren’t happy with me.”

“Maybe you’re right,” his voice is practically a whisper as he takes another step closer. you knew better, but you’re frozen in place. he tilts his head, dark eyes filled with an abyss of things he never said. he wouldn’t say them now. not ever. “But you were the closest thing to it I’ve ever had.” his hand flees to touch your face, but you angle your gaze in the opposite direction to avoid it, or perhaps, to hide the expression you wore now. it didn’t matter, either way, and he leans forward to press a chaste kiss to your temple, before sidestepping you.

moments later, as you leave the restaurant with your fiancé, holding his hand, your eyes betray him, and scan the parking lot for Billy.

he isn’t there.

[harcove]

you uh. wouldn't mind an angst request would you haha because I have had this one scenario stuck in my head where leon (probably resi 6 leon) has been drinking a lot more and has been neglecting his s/o and they finally call him out on his shit

anyway ooga booga they fight and decide it's best they give leon his space and take a break and maybe he finds them at a bar he goes to to get wasted to already find them drunk off their ass

Angst is absolutely one of my most favourite things to write and to read like damn I do be out here making myself CRY. So I definitely don't mind angst like hell yeah!

I was gonna end this was a happier note- but uh, I really love angst so I left it semi-open ended but also pretty sad I think. Also not really dialogue-heavy, more like... I write too much detail-heavy :,) Also this isn't edited, I spent days on this cause I was overthinking it and felt it was just not good so oof I'm sorry!

Length: 2k

Request: in the ask

Warnings: angst, drinking, lowkey it's alcoholism on Leon's part, being drunk

Leon x Reader - "I know."

How long had it been since you had held your boyfriend's hand? Since the two of you had really sat together and done something together, fully, completely, involved, and focused on one another. You didn't even remember, which was agonizing to think about.

You had been through so much with Leon. And you knew where his deepest thought lay, but you could never truly know. And it didn't help that over the years the two of you had together, he had started to become more distant. And instead of finding his comfort in your arms, he found it in some glass bottle.

At first, you didn't really protest much, you didn't say much about it. A drink every once in a while couldn't hurt. Yet, it wasn't every once in a while. It was more often than you'd have liked. And he was using it to forget. To focus on anything else but his life and his memories. Your soft words trying to talk to him didn't do much to stop him or dissuade him. He brushed you off more often than not. It tore you up from the inside out that you couldn't help him, that at some point a bottle was his chosen form of comfort over you.

The guilt mixed with sadness, and then with anger. And in the end, those feelings came together and created an explosion between the two of you one night.

Your throat was hoarse as you swallowed as much air as you could. You couldn't exactly remember what the argument stemmed from but you knew it had to be related to him drinking.

"Will you just listen to me?!" You shouted, the words coming out uneven as your throat begged you to stop, "put that shit down Leon, and look at me!"

The man sitting at the aisle in your kitchen put the flask he had down in front of him, but still had his hands on it. He turned his head to look at you, barely even moving at all, and his eyes were looking at you like he was unimpressed or annoyed.

"I'm listening."

You wanted to pull on your hair and scream because he wasn't. He wasn't listening, and he hadn't been, at least not for a while.

"No you aren't, you are not listening to a word I say, you never do!"

He scoffed, turning back to his drink and taking another sip.

"Where am I going on Friday?"

"What?" He looked at you incredulously, completely lost as your voice went from yelling at him to speaking relatively peacefully, but there was no peace in your voice.

"I said, where am I going on Friday, Leon," you repeated with clenched fists, "if you listen to me if you even bother to pay attention to me, you would know the answer. So where am I going on Friday?"

The silence was your answer, as you expected it to be, you just hadn't expected it to be so painful.

"I'm going to visit my family in the town over," your voice was low and tired, and you wanted to cry but you couldn't even find it in you to do that, "I told you that a thousand times Leon I..."

Biting your lip hard, you felt yourself break skin, and the metallic taste of blood invaded your taste buds. You were so angry at him moments before, angry enough you had been yelling. But suddenly you weren't angry anymore. You were just so sad; sad for yourself and sad for him. He wasn't going to listen to you, not right now, that much was clear.

"I've been busy Y/N-" whatever he said was wasted on deaf ears as you drowned them out unintentionally, your eyes trained on the flask he nursed.

For once, you knew you had to let it be. You had to give him space, and give yourself space.

"I'm sleeping in the guest room," you offered lamely after the long silence between the two of you after he had finished whatever he had said. Leon looked up at you, with a look of surprise, and confusion, "we both need space. From each other. I just... Don't stay up drinking all night."

"Y/N-" his words once again fell upon deaf ears, and his fingers just missed your arm as you turned and went upstairs to the room usually used by people like Claire, or Chris, sometimes Sherry.

When morning came, you had gotten up later than usual, Leon was already gone as he usually was early in the morning with his job and everything. Your heart felt heavier as you walked into the empty kitchen and noted the vodka bottle you two had been given as a gift was half empty. Something in you asked if it was all worth it; did it really do so much that he drank more than he should've? Did it take away the feelings of hopelessness, like the one you were currently stuck in?

Those were the thoughts that followed you the entire day as you went about your routine. They followed you all the way to the spare bedroom of one of your old friend's homes as you decided you and Leon needed to take a break. If you didn't do that, you feared you would only lose him completely. Or lose yourself. It was exhausting.

But what was even more exhausting was not seeing him. You worried for him, and even if you sometimes felt like he didn't, he worried for you.

It would take about a week before something would crack, before the storm that had been brewing between you two, the one that laid dormant after you walked out to take from your relationship, would begin to thunder again, but in a much different way.

"We're here to have fun," your friend who had been letting you stay over said as she pushed a shot of... something into your hands, leaning against the bar from your side while you said on one of the barstools, "and loosen up. You specifically."

You rolled your eyes; this wasn't in your plan for the day, going to a bar. But it was more than you had done in the past week now. Your routine consisted of going to work and heading back to your friends. Nothing more, nothing less.

You wanted Leon. But you couldn't have him right now. You were still upset, and you didn't even know if he wanted you right now. Everything was a mess.

Things seemed to blur together over the course of the night in the bar, your friend insisting on you trying each new drink she got, some not new too. You had had one drink that you ordered of your own volition, and it had been a regular bottle of beer. But the shots your friend got for you two, and the sips of the drinks your friend ordered, culminated into more than you realized and you could say you were a bit more than just tipsy.

For some reason though, your friend seemed to be chugging along much better than you, you must've been a lightweight.

You hadn't even seen your friend in a while, but you also were so out of it that you couldn't exactly comprehend time properly at that current moment in time.

A hand on your arm and a familiar voice seemed to sober you a bit as your eyes met familiar blue, but they were clouded over with pain, with worry. Confusion too, and a bit of shock. Your fingers twitched, aching to touch his arm. His face. To smooth the furrow that seemed to be etching itself into his brow, threatening to become a new and permanent feature.

But the sober feeling you experienced also stopped you from doing any of the above. Rather, your body stiffened a bit and you pulled away from his touch, only barely missing the look of hurt that glided over his features as you did so.

"L-Leon?" the alcohol in your system made it sound more like you were questioning if he was real rather than saying his name, "What are you-"

The question you were going to ask didn't even need to be finished. It didn't even need an answer from him, because even if you were drunk, you knew Leon. And you knew why he was there.

"Oh," you couldn't help but scoff, "you want my drink? It'll start you off-"

Leon wasn't going to pretend that he hadn't come to the bar to drink away his sorrows; to forget all the pain he held onto and the nightmares he couldn't escape, and now the pain of not having you around. But when he walked in and saw you? Something in him stopped. Something in him twisted and he felt nauseous and for once it wasn't because of a hangover, but it was because of you.

You looked so miserable. Not that you realized you were wearing your heart on your sleeve at the bar, with the dejected look on your face and the limp hand holding onto a beverage you clearly didn't enjoy. Whilst at the same time, you looked empty.

Is that what you saw? Is that what he looked like to you when he was drinking? When he was at home or at a bar, focusing on anything but reality?

Leon didn't want a drink anymore, he wanted to get you out of a place that didn't suit you whatsoever. He wanted to take you home, he didn't want you to be him.

"You didn't come here alone, did you?" He cut off whatever you were trying to say as he looked into your eyes sternly.

"What? N-no I'm not stupid... I came here with a friend."

It didn't take long for Leon to figure out the friend because he spotted her coming near the bar, and recognized her.

"Hey, I'm taking Y/N home," Leon tried to not sound aggressive when he spoke, but it may have only made him sound more upset.

"Leon? Oh, ya, of course. Are you two...?"

"We'll be fine," Leon replied as he helped you stand up, "thanks for being with them."

He hadn't just meant in the bar but in the past week. It was left unsaid, but it was laid bare.

As much as you wanted to pull away from the man who gently wrapped one of his strong arms around your waist, and used the other to hold your arm behind his neck, you couldn't. You didn't have the strength to, and you missed him.

Leon was glad he had taken the car and not his motorcycle. There was no way in hell he would've been able to keep you on a motorcycle all the way back to your home that you shared, or well, you hadn't for the past week. But that wasn't the point.

"You're so mean Leon..." you mumbled as he helped you get into the passenger seat of the car. He all but carried you into it like a child and leaned across you to put your seat belt on. You leaned your face into his neck as he did so, breathing deeply.

"I just... Want you to be happy," you continued sloppily, "but you won't... Let me in..."

Leon's breathing stopped for a moment as he stilled, his hand still on the seatbelt he had just finished putting you in. He quickly pulled himself together and pulled back, adjusting the belt on your body so it wasn't digging into your lazy form, but it was still doing its job.

"I know."

There was so much more he could say, but he couldn't.  He wasn't sure if he ever could.

He settled himself into the driver's seat and got ready to start the car up.

"I still love you though..." your words were slurred as you rested your head on the car window, feeling your eyes grow heavier.

"I..." Leon's hand was turning white at the knuckles from how hard he was holding the steering wheel. He didn't deserve you. And you didn't deserve this.

"I know..."

[closetedbumblebee]

White Wedding (Addison Montgomery x Female Reader)

Weddings are supposed to be full of love, happiness and gratitude. A wonderful celebration of two souls coming together as one. Today was one of those days. Callie and Arizona were finally and officially tying the knot.

It was supposed to be a happy celebration all round; all the happy couples loved up, attending the wedding together. Meredith and Derek, Christina and Teddy, Owen and Amelia, Richard and Catherine, among others showed their support for the sweetest couple who were currently reciting their vows.

You sat alone in the third row from the front, extremely proud of your friends. You were smiling from ear to ear as they each walked down the aisle. You knew their story like the back of your hand, and couldn’t contain the happiness you felt when Callie and Arizona finally came through for the other, especially after the accident. They had come so far.

You felt a pang of sadness, taking a look around the room at all the couples. You wished your girlfriend, Addison was here with you, but she had to fly back to LA after Sofia’s delivery. You barely spent enough time together as it is, both of you living in separate cities, leading separate lives. You did, however have a relatively strong and healthy relationship, taking the time to have long phone calls, FaceTime, and send as many text messages as you could. You tried to sneak weekends away  to LA, also. 

But, things felt strained for the last few months, and you both felt the need to remedy that. 

The last time you and Addison saw each other was during her stay, which was 4 days long. You hadn’t seen each other for five weeks, and you could tell the strain was getting to you. But, you both pushed those feelings down to focus on your friends. After all, you were both doctors.

When you did catch up, you and Addison had a slight argument the night before she was set to jet out of Seattle. You sort of made up, but you hadn’t really spoken since, just the odd text and call here and there.

You reminisced… 

“Honey, I really want to stay longer, but I can’t. I’ve got patients to get back to and-“, Addison said sadly.

“We’ve barely seen each other for weeks on end, and when we do, you suddenly have to rush off again. I get that you have a new life now and I respect that. Of course I do, but where the fuck do we fit in?! When you took the job in LA, we promised we’d make each other a priority regardless of whatever happened. You only fly back to Seattle when Richard needs you. I’m busting my butt every other week, rearranging schedules, going out of my way to see you. Because guess what, Addison? I love you! Clearly you don’t love me enough, otherwise you’d be making some sacrifices” you snapped.

Addison was taken aback. You had never seen her look so sad and upset. You just missed her so much, and wanted to be with her. You instantly felt guilty for snapping because you didn’t mean to go that far and before she could say anything, you jumped in again.

“Shit. Baby, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I just miss you so much. You know that. I’m so so sorry”, you said, equally sad as you reached for her hand.

“We’ll, I’m not going to say that didn’t hurt, because it did. But I understand. I guess it was deserved. I’m sorry too, sweetheart. I’m gonna do better, I promise”, she said.

You held each other tight, “I love you”, you said in unison.

Addison was about to say something else when - 

Her watch beeped, reminding of her flight and you drove her back to the airport where you shared one last kiss.

It wasn’t the way you wanted to make up, but it was a start.

Upon arriving back in LA, she texted immediately.

‘I’m back. I won’t say back home, because it isn’t home. Never has, never will be. My home is with you. FaceTime with me tomorrow? I love you baby xxxxx’, she texted

“Me too, my love. I most certainly will. I’m so sorry again. I love you too xxxx”, you replied.

Things improved between the two of you over the next four weeks, before she told you she couldn’t attend the wedding…

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I really wanted to be there, but I just can’t get away”, she said, evidentially disappointed.

“Oh…okay. It’s fine. I can try and film it for you. It’s not going to be the same without you. I love you”. You were sad, but you didn’t want to push her.

……………..

Drawing you from your thoughts, you noticed the last of the guests arriving before the brides made their voyage down the aisle.

“Excuse me, beautiful, is this seat taken?”, you heard a voice say.

You thought you were dreaming. It couldn’t be. You looked up, to see a familiar, beautiful face smiling sweetly at you.

“Addison?!”, you shrieked

You both started crying as she pulled you up into her arms, holding you tightly.

“Surprise”, she whispered huskily into your ear.

“What are you doing here?! I thought you couldn’t come”, you cried.

“I couldn’t bear being away from you anymore”, she said, smiling through tears.

You kissed her with everything you had, before she pulled back.

“I mean it. I’m miserable in LA. I can’t stand it there. So, I’m coming home - for good”, she said.

You didn’t exactly comprehend what she said at first, but then gasped in delight, wrapping her up in your arms. Looking around, your friends were watching you both, all clearly happy for you.

You and Addison still had a lot to talk about, but right now, you put it to the side when Callie and Arizona appeared….

Everyone cried during the vow exchange, and you and Addison shared sweet, knowing looks, never letting go of each other’s hands.

…………..

At the reception, everyone gathered around Arizona and Callie as they had their first dance as a married couple.

Addison wrapped her arms around you from behind and rested her chin on your shoulder as you watched the happy couple. You hugged her arms, and she reached around to peck you on the lips. You two couldn’t get enough of each other.

When it came time for other couples to join the dance floor, you and Addison wasted no time walking hand in hand to the floor. At this point, everyone was in their own worlds, all content and happy, buzzing from the day’s events, while you and Addison were completely wrapped up in your own little bubble.

“So….”, she said, arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close as you swayed to Shania Twain’s ‘You’ve Got a Way’.

“So…”, you repeated.

She jumped right into it. 

“I’ve missed you, my love. I really have. You are everything to me. I’m so sorry for making you feel otherwise. I shouldn’t have been neglecting us”, she said softly, her eyes not leaving yours.

“Addie, hey… No, please. I’m sorry - I had no right to go off at you. I should’ve been more understanding. You uprooted your life and that’s a huge deal; because you’re a big deal, babe. I thought about what I said to you that night, and it was completely unfair, way out of line, in fact.. I was just projecting my feelings onto you. I was so scared that by you moving would have jeopardised our relationship without thinking about anything else. It was me, I was selfish”, you said, sheepishly.

“In other words, you thought I’d cheat on you. That’s it, isn’t it?”, she asked.

You felt tears in your eyes. Blinking them back, you smiled sadly and nodded.

“Come on now, you know I would never, ever, do that to you”, she said.

“I know. I…know. I just should've been more supportive of you. I know what this opportunity meant to you”, you said, your tone apologetic.

“It’s not all on you, okay. I realised I was working longer hours, and I turned my back on us because I was so overwhelmed with all of it, and avoided you, because I think deep down, I was scared too. I was afraid of hurting you, and was terrified the long distance wouldn't work at first. So, I can see how you must’ve felt that way”, Addison said, gently touching your face.

You looked into her eyes, to see the tears shimmering like white diamonds.

“Baby…”, you said.

“Being away from you, not being able to see you, or hold you, or kiss you, made me realise that you, that what we have, is worth more to me than any job. So I told Naomi I quit, called Richard, and he offered me a new job”, Addison smiled.

“Oh, Addie, that’s great!”, you said gleefully.

“Yes, yes it is. But, the best part is that I am now Grey Sloan’s Chief of Neo-Natal Surgery. I’m officially the boss now, baby. You know what that means. This is going to be so good for us!”, Addie said.

You were crying softly and gently touched her face. You knew what this meant; Addison being in charge of her own specialty, back on home soil meant everything to her. She was determined to fight for her relationship with you, so being the boss meant she could make her own rules and schedule. But, not only that, she deserved that title; worked hard for it her whole life; and you were determined to fight to the ends of the earth for her. 

It hit you then that she was really back.

“You’re home?!”, you asked, almost in shock.

“Mm-hmm. I’m home, baby”, she beamed.

“No more messing around, no more arguments. This is it - you and me. No more turning back. I want to fight for us”, she continued.

“I want to fight for us too”, you said back.

You smiled brightly at each other, feeling more connected and more in love than ever.

She was just about to kiss you when you heard the clinking of champagne glasses, as Callie’s father, Mr Torres called for a toast.

“Thank you everyone for coming to celebrate my beautiful daughter, Calliope and her wonderful new wife, Arizona on their special day today. These two have gone through hell and back to be together. I have never felt prouder of my little girl, than I do today. I look around the room, and see it filled with such love. It’s a really beautiful thing. Real, true love is a once in a lifetime feeling, so if you’ve found it, hold onto it with both hands and never let it go, because it’s one crazy ride. Ladies, I congratulate you both on overcoming your obstacles and finding your way to each other. I love you both so much, my dear daughters. To Callie and Arizona!”, Mr Torres exclaimed, full of pride.

“To Callie and Arizona!”, everyone said.

The newlyweds kissed, before turning their attention to the wedding cake.

You and Addison watched the whole exchange, extremely proud of your friends, grateful to be a part of their special, historic day; however, deep down, you both pictured this day of your own, in your not so distant future.

Addison and you shared a look, and you both just knew. This was the path you wanted to take.

“Forever and always, Addie”, you said, winking at her.

“Forever and always, Y/N”, she repeated, clutching your hand, bringing it to her lips.

[tteokggukk]

waiting game → jjk | ✏️ eighteen: back to square one

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It’s been over a year since you last visited his place.

The last time you were here, Jungkook was just minutes away from turning of age. Both of you were equally nervous at the time—him being tense about the hint for the soulmate mark that was supposed to appear, and you feeling frantic over finally confessing your feelings for him. By the end of the night though, neither ended well: Jungkook found no mark and you were later on rejected by him, and since that incident you swore you’d never come back to this place, that you wanted nothing to do with him, and that you’d stop all contact and cut him out of your life.

And yet here you were, back at Jungkook’s apartment.

It’s funny, you thought for sure being back here would bring back that miserable and embarrassing night, but instead you were hit with a wave of nostalgia and a certain warmth in your chest that you haven’t felt in a while. Before anything else, this place has always been your safe space, and the stronger memories of you being happy here definitely outweighed that one horrible night.

Looking around, you found yourself amused with how little has changed— the collection of speakers he had were still kept on the same shelves, his collection of blank canvases that were stacked up on one side of the room, and the old frames of your pictures together were still hung up on his wall. A smile crept up on your lips as you walked slowly, staring at each frame carefully and recalling each event preserved in those shots.

Somehow, although he was only footsteps away in his kitchen cooking up ramen for you two to share, you missed him.

Even though you and Jungkook were slowly patching things up and going back to the way things used to be, it still doesn’t change the fact that a long time has passed since you two had been left alone together in close quarters. Sure, you two were talking a lot more now and you both have gone out together, but conversations held through texts and hangouts held in public were far more different than spending time indoors with just the two of you.

Minutes later, Jungkook came back holding a tray with two bowls and a potful of ramen. As he sets the tray down in front of you for you two to share, you felt your phone buzzing endlessly in your pocket. Not even seconds later, Jungkook’s own phone starts buzzing continuously.

For the vast majority of the time, you both spent the hours talking about your plans for the showcase with only minor attempts at small talk and jokes. As expected, your conversations were filled with nervous laughter and a few awkward silences, but at least you two had more progress with your plans. You tried practicing a few songs together, but eventually you both agreed that none of the songs you had done so far made enough impact. When you ran out of ideas, Jungkook proceeded to make more lists of song suggestions for your performance, and when he ran out of ideas, you went ahead and made your own lists.

Two hours later, you had about twenty lists—all of which were made to avoid more small talk.

Jungkook stared at the lists scattered all over his coffee table without blinking. You were sprawled out on his couch while he was slumping on the floor, his back against the couch. You were both clearly burnt out with twenty lists but still zero choices. He lets out a sigh and shakes his head, catching your attention.

“Are you hungry?” Jungkook shifts his gaze from the papers to you, his bright, doe-eyes meeting your tired ones.

“Kind of,” You sat up straight and hugged your knees, “Are you?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook stands up from the floor, dusting off the back of his pants as he got up, a joking smile on his face, “Do you wanna eat some ramen?”

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. You just had ramen with him two hours ago, and he had six cups of ramen while he stayed up with you last night. How much ramen could this boy actually eat? “I’m sorry, Hoseok told me to say no when a guy asks me that,” You joked, faking a sad expression on your face.

Jungkook raises a brow and flops himself on the couch to sit across from you, crossing his arms, “You didn’t say no to me last night.”

“Well now I am.”

“That’s not fair,” Jungkook’s let’s out a laugh, causing his body to lean forward as before turning himself to face you, “Ramen’s all I have.”

“Why am I not surprised?” You shook your head, your eyes crinkling as you laughed. You couldn’t see it, but the sight of your laughter brought out Jungkook’s adoring stare. Feeling proud of himself, it felt like a big achievement getting you to laugh like that for the first time tonight, as if he had just broken an invisible barrier between you two. He missed all of it—he missed the sound of your laugh, being able to get close to you, hanging out with you like this. Just like the old times.

Jungkook smiles and looks away, afraid you’d catch him staring at you before getting off the couch, “I’m kidding. Of course I’ve got other food.”

“You do?” You asked tauntingly.

“Of course I do, I’m friends with Jin. Come on, let’s go have dinner.”

Without a moment’s thought, Jungkook holds his hand out to take yours. The moment your hands meet, a heavy beat begins drumming in your ears, taking you a second to realize that it was the sound of your own heart that you could hear as it did several leaps in your chest. While Jungkook led you to his kitchen where you two decided to cook something up together, you tried your best not to seem at all fazed as you kept a neutral face. When he eventually had to let go of your hand, a part of you wanted to hold onto that warmth, but you tried to push the thought away.

Although you initially came over to talk about what your plans were for the showcase, it now seems as if you two had no further plans to discuss anything. It was already eleven at night, but neither of you appeared to be aware of it as you were cuddled up underneath the sheets while watching old reruns of a TV show you and Jungkook both loved. You had no idea how you ended up lying this close next to him—there must’ve been something in the food he had cooked up that somehow made you two lose any form of awkwardness between each other. Jungkook had to thank Jin later for the recipe.

“Look, it’s the part where they’re trying to pivot the couch,” Jungkook laughs as he points to the screen, his hand squeezing on your shoulder to get your attention while your head rested on his arm.

You didn’t bother to look. It was a scene you’d already watched countless times to cheer you up months ago. Instead, you looked up to see Jungkook, his face illuminated by the light coming from the television and a table lamp. You could feel his chest vibrating while he laughed, your temple resting on him made it easy for his deep chuckle to send vibrations through you. From where you were, his lashes looked much longer. His eyes were all crinkled from laughing and his mouth was curled up, showcasing the mole underneath his lips. The proximity between you two was so close, the scent of his freshly laundered clothes was enough to embrace you.

He’s so pretty.

He was all you wanted to stare at, but your eyes were beginning to betray you as you felt your own lids getting heavier and heavier. Staying up last night was a terrible idea after all, and though you wanted to stay up longer to be here with him, your body couldn’t help but melt into the soft mattress. Jungkook’s arm around you wasn’t helping you to fight the urge to stay up, either.

It took a while for Jungkook to hear it, but later on he began to notice the sound of soft snores next to him, only for him to find you all dozed off on his arm. Nervously, he debated whether or not he should get his arm off and wake you up to bring you home. But, as he mentally went back and forth trying to decide on what he should do, he instead found himself studying your features and smiling to himself at the sight of how peaceful you looked.

It would be a crime to disrupt your sleep, he thought.

Tucking strands of your hair behind your ear, he let himself have a few moments to cherish the little details on your face before turning the television off and slowly covering you two with a blanket.

-

You were having such a good night’s rest, until you tried shifting your position as you slept—on your waist was a slight weight that held you close and left you unable to move.

As your eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room, all you could see was Jungkook sleeping soundly in front of you. Trying to ignore the dangerously erratic beating in your chest, you attempted to level your breathing so as to not wake him up. All the tiredness you had felt earlier were all gone now, you were fully aware of Jungkook’s face just being several inches from yours while his arms kept you close in front of him.

You couldn’t lie, there was a small urge to caress his cheek until you heard the sound of your phone buzzing from behind you. Carefully, you reached out for your phone which thankfully was only inches away from your head.

Was it actually 3am?

“Who is it?”

The sound of Jungkook’s sleep-filled voice causes you to freeze, making you drop your phone on your face.

“Oh shoot, sorry,” He apologizes, bringing his palm to your cheek in an attempt to soothe the minor pain caused by the drop of your phone screen, “Didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“I’m okay, did I wake you?” You asked softly, noticing how his eyes were still squinted as he tried to open them fully.

“No, don’t worry,” Jungkook grins sleepily, “What time is it?”

“It’s 3am,” You told him.

“Oh.”

Reality began sinking in as you realized you were still here and it was this late. You knew he was too nice to wake you up, which is probably why you were still at his place. You began to mentally prepare yourself saying goodbye to him at this hour. Expecting Jungkook to get up, he moves the arm resting on top of you, setting you free from his being held into his arms. You tried to shift to the other side of the bed to get off, but Jungkook reaches for the lamp instead of getting up.

“Want me to turn this lamp off?” He asks, “I didn’t turn it off earlier in case you woke up and needed it.”

“What?” Your eyes narrow as you look back at him over your shoulder.

“What are you doing? Come back,” He almost pouts. His voice was too raspy for your own good, you knew you would do about anything he asked you to right now. He could even ask you to clean his bathroom at this hour and you’d probably do it.

Jungkook, probably half-awake, places his hand on your waist. This prompts you to move closer to him and back to your old position where you were facing him. He hums to himself when he’s got his arms wrapped around you again, but you tried to knock some sense into him.

“Jungkook, it’s late,” You whispered.

“I know,” he hums, his eyes almost shut.

“I should leave.”

Now his eyes were wide open. He lets out a small sigh as he finally meets your gaze, “Do you actually think I’m going to let you leave at this hour?”

“I don’t wanna inconvenience you or anything—“

“You never do. what would inconvenience me is you losing sleep when you could be resting right now,” He tells you softly as he closes his eyes. You don’t say anything, only staring at him as you were at a loss for words. When he doesn’t hear anything from you or feel your body relax so you could go back to rest, he extends his arms towards you to bring you closer to him.

“Just go to sleep. I’ll drive you home first thing in the morning if you really wanna go home,” he says, finally shutting his eyes. It takes you a second before you finally give in and bring your arms around him. Smiling to yourself, you snuggle your face into his chest and silently pray he doesn’t feel the heat building up on your cheeks. Once he was sure you’ve relaxed, Jungkook turns off the lamp and brings his hand to gently stroke your hair, only going back to sleep once he hears your soft and peaceful snores again.

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– fic type: social media au, soulmates au

– pairing: jungkook x reader

– genre: ex-friends to lovers, humor, crack, fluff, angst, slow burn

– warnings: explicit language

SYNOPSIS: in a world where everyone finds a unique connection to their soulmate once they turn of age, y/n can’t seem to figure out her clue. after desperately staying up all night to find one, y/n decides to rest and write down her list of groceries on her arm, ultimately giving up on finding a clue along with the whole idea of soulmates. that is, until jungkook wakes up to a whole list of poorly written ingredients scribbled all over his own arm.

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[thewidowsghost]

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals and horiffic flashes of golden light.

I must've woken several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed, being spoonfed something that tastes like popcorn, only it's pudding. The pretty girl with the curly blonde hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

Annabeth - I presumed - looks around, as if afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I mumble. "I don't . . ."

Someone knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake, the blonde girl is gone.

A husky blonde dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

. . .

When I finally come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except that They're nicer than I'm used to. I am sitting in a deck chair on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurts.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw, and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschingo cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against a porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week and his eyes are clouded with grief. Under one arm, Grover cradles a shoe box. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops and a bright orange t-shirt that says Camp Half-Blood.

Maybe I'd had a nightmare. Maybe Mom and Percy are okay. We're on vacation and we'd stopped here at this big house for some reason. And . . .

"You saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, Grover places the shoe box in my lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare.

"I -" I falter, looking at the horn.

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You've been out for two days. How much do you remember?" he asks.

"Mom. Percy. Are they really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There are grovers of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spreading out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the hige pine tree on top; even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My family is gone, nothing should be beautiful. Everything should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffles. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst saytr in the world." He moans, stomping his foot so hard that the Converse hi-tops come off. The inside of the who was filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

As Grover struggles to get his hoof back in the fake foot, I think, Well, that settles it.

Grover is a saytr. I am ready to bet that if I shaved his curly brown hair, I'd find tiny horns on his head. But I was too miserable to care that saytrs exist, or even minotaurs.

All that meant was that my mom and brother had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

I'm alone.

Grover is still sniffling, and my grief subsides for a heartbeat.

I say softly, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect Per-" the saytr's voice falters.

"Did my mother ask you to protect him?" I ask.

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least...I was."

"But why..." I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says gently. "Here." The saytr helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I almost recoil at the the taste, because I am expecting iced apple juice, but it's not that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Mom's cookies - homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with teh chips still melting. Drinking it, my entire body feels good and warm, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if my mom had just brushed her hand against my cheek or a bruise from my stepfather, and given me a cookie the way she'd always used to. She would always tell me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?" Grover sounds so wistful that I feel guilty.

"Sorry," I apologize. "I should've let you taste."

His eyes got wide. "No! That's not what I meant. I just...wondered."

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply. "My mom's. Homemade."

He sighs. "And how do you feel?"

"Like I could throw my stepfather a hundred yards."

"That's good," he says. "That's good. I don't think you could risk drinking any more of that stuff."

"What do you mean?"

Grover takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting."

. . .

The porch wrapped all the way around a farmhouse.

My legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far; Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but I hold on to it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I couldn't let it go.

As we come around teh opposite end of the house, I catch my breath.

We must've been on teh north shore of Long Island, because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters beautifully about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I can't comprehend what I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like the ancient Greek architecture I'd struggled to read about in books through my dyslexia - an open-air pavilion, and amphitheater, a circular arena - except that they all look brand new, their whie marble columns sparkling in the glittering sun. IN a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school-age kids and saytrs played volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange t-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. SOme shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I was still deleriouus, some of their horses had wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl - Annabeth - who'd spoonfed me the popcorn-flavored pudding is leaning against the porch rail next to them.

I study the blond girl for a moment, and, as if she felt my eyes on her, she looks at me, amused. I feel my cheeks darken a little, and I turn to study the two other men.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black that it's almost purple. He looks like those paintings of baby angels - cherubs. He wears a tiger-pattern Hawaiian shirt, and he could've fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could've out-gambled even my stepfather.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me. "He's the camp director. Be polite. The girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And that's Chiron." He points at the guy whose back is to me.

I recognize the tweek jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard that Percy had described to me.

"I suppose you must be my brother's Latin teacher?" I ask, and the man turns to me, a mischievous glint in his eyes. It seemed like the glint a teacher might have when he pulled a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers the same letter. Through the mischievous glint, I catch the pain and grief in his eyes.

"Ah, good, (Y/n)," Mr. Brunner says, and I catch Annabeth studying me, as if she herself had felt the pang of grief that had pierced my heart when I'd mentioned my brother. "Now we have four for pinochle."

Mr. Brunner offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me with bloodshot eyes and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to be glad to see you."

"Uh, thanks," I reply. I scoot a little farther away from him because if there was one think I'd learned from my stepfather, it's now to tell when an adult had been hitting alcohol.

"Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

Annabeth steps forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, Percy. Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on (Y/n)'s bunk? We'll be putting her in Cabin Eleven for now."

Annabeth replies, "Sure, Chiron."

Annabeth looks probably my age, maybe a couple of inches taller, and a whole lot more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly hair, she is almost exactly what I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, but her eyes ruined the image. They are startling gray, like stormy clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she is analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

Annabeth glances at the Minotaur horn in my hands, then back at me. Then she says, "You drool in your sleep."

Then she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," I say, anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here too, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," the ex–Mr. Brunner corrects. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay." Slightly confused, I look at teh director. "And Mr. D, sir . . ." I pause. "I suppose that stands for something as well?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cards, studying me as if I'd surprised him. "Yes, it does stand for something. But you don't go around using them for no reason."

"Right. Sorry, sir," I reply, and Mr. D looks at me again for a moment. I pause for another minute. "Chiron, sir. What is this place? What am I doing here?"

Grover, who had sat down at the card table, flinches every time a card lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles sympathetically at me.

"(Y/n)," he says. "Did your mother tell you nothing?" he asks.

"She said . . ." I remember, with a pang, Mom's sad eyes looking out over the sea. "She told me that she was afraid to send me here, even though ou - even though my father had warned her to. She said that once I was here, I probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep me close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's usually how they get killed." I flinch. "Young girl, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask politely.

He explains how you bid in pinochle, and so I do.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient."

"Orientation film?" I question.

"No," Chiron decides. "You know that Grover is a satyr. You know" - Chiron points to the horn in the shoe box - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either, my dear. What you may not know is that great powersat work in your life. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I take a moment to think about the former Latin teacher's words.

"I suppose that makes sense," I reply hesitantly.

Chiron looks at me expectantly. "Percy always said you were smart, (Y/n)," the man says with a glimmer of appreciation. "What else do you know?" he asks.

"Well," I think for a moment. "I suppose that, if it is true, then the gods would move with western civilization.

Mr. D looks at me and sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover trailing behind him.

"Is there a palace on Mount Olympus?" I ask Chiron.

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, (Y/n)."

I shift slightly in my seat. "Who am I, Chiron?" I ask. I pause, "Who are you?" I add hastily, " If you don't mind answering."

Chiron smiles gently. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get out of his wheelchair.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it?" But for now, we should get you a bunk in Cabin Eleven. There will be new friends to meet, and plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

Then, Chiron does rise from his wheelchair, but there is something odd about the way he does it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above the belt. At first, I wonder if he was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the underwear isn't underwear; it is the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair, it's a box, and it must've been magic, because there was no way that a wheelchair could have contained all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobbly-kneed, with a polished hoof. Then another leg, then hindquarters, and then the box is empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse that had just sprung from the wheelchair; a huge white stallion. Where the horse's neck should be, the upper body of the teacher is smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"What a relief," the centaur says, stretching. "I'd been cooped up in there for so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 2532 words

[mc-lukanette]

Now that Wishmaker is out, how would you rewrite that chaos? The Lukanette need is strong.

"Did anyone else see me?" Marinette asked, her hands shaking as she put on the mask she'd made with her newly-given knitting powers. They were sitting down in a shadowed alley, free from anyone's curious eyes.

"No," Viperion replied, his voice breathless from the revelations he was having rather than the fly to their hiding spot. "Just...just me." He glanced down at his wrist, noting the unticked snake bangle. "...I'm sorry."

"Huh?" Marinette's gaze darted over to him, then to his miraculous. A flicker of understanding passed over her expression as she whispered a small, "Oh."

Guilt tore up his stomach, even knowing deep down that it wasn't his fault - the akuma had surprised them, giving no time for him to use his power - but he'd been brought in to use Second Chance in the first place, and yet...

Marinette's hand fell upon his wrist, making him look up. She smiled at him, her eyes reassuring.

"It's okay," she said, though her voice wavered. "It was only you who saw my face, and even if you'd used Second Chance, you'd still know anyway."

He could tell that she was still processing, but let the subject go for now and smiled back. There were more important matters to attend to.

They must've been on the same wavelength too, as Marinette pulled away and sighed, thinking aloud, "I have to figure a way to be Ladybug again. The akuma could just be destroyed, but I need Miraculous Ladybug to turn everyone back to normal."

Viperion nodded, briefly giving her a once-over. Her power and wings were useful, but unfortunately didn't help them with the current situation.

It was also distractingly cute, and he couldn't fight that way.

"Wishmaker said that he wanted people to live out their childhood dream," he murmured in thought.

Marinette brought a hand to her face, pinching her cheek in contemplation. "Maybe...maybe if I live it out then, I'll change back?" She considered it a moment longer, then groaned and stood up, starting to pace around the small area they were in. "But we don't have that kind of time! Yeah, my earrings aren't here so Shadow Moth can't make a wish, and I could definitely make enough of a living with my new knitting powers, but that would take years, and—"

Suddenly, she stopped and looked over at him, catching Viperion briefly off-guard since he hadn't said anything. Her eyes scanned him up and down, mental gears turning in her head even if he couldn't tell what she was thinking.

"...That's it!" she gasped, hurrying over to him. She knelt down, clasping his hand in both of hers as she rambled, "Maybe I just need to live out my dream to the fullest!"

He blinked in confusion, unsure of where she was going with this.

"Part of my dream was to eventually make a wedding dress and tuxedo for me and my future husband!" she exclaimed. "If I do that, I might turn back into Ladybug!"

"Ah—" He shut his mouth before anything else could come out. He couldn't deny that it was a solid plan, but he wanted to tread carefully given his feelings, not wanting to make her feel awkward. "That's a great idea." He tried to grin reassuringly, though it came off a little crooked. "Should I go find Adrien?"

"What?" She shook her head. "No, it has to be you!"

He gaped, his heart doing confused flips in his chest. "Why?"

"The guy I always dreamed of marrying when I was little," she began, eyes practically sparkling, "he was exactly like you!"

— — — — —

Marinette hadn't exactly caught onto what she'd said until it already left her mouth, but the way Viperion's face turned red had definitely given it away. Things had gone quiet after the fact, with him sitting a couple meters away while she knitted away at the tuxedo; the tuxedo for him.

She found herself blushing faintly at the thought and immediately forced it down, reminding herself that she didn't love Luka, but Adrien. They were made for each other, like everyone said, and she—

She closed her eyes and took in a steady breath, knowing that she was getting off track. Things were complicated enough with all her thoughts and fears about the future, especially now that Viperion knew her identity.

Though, strangely enough, she didn't feel as nervous about it as she thought she would've.

Her gaze darted over to Viperion, who was keeping lookout and patiently waiting for her to finish with her knitting. He thankfully didn't seem closed off from her at all, and it just served as a reminder as to how mature he was.

Without thinking, she found herself speaking up. "M...my parents..."

He looked over at her, his senses still apparently tuned for her despite his keeping watch. She averted her gaze to the knitting needles working their literal magic into the tuxedo.

"We saw a lot of movies where the girl gets the prince in the end, so they made sure to teach me that love wasn't about money or power or fame or anything like that." She bit her bottom lip, Adrien briefly flashing to mind. "So, I imagined me as the knitting fairy, and I'd make clothes for the whole world until I found him." She peeked up at him. "Someone who wouldn't laugh when I fell on my face. Someone who'd be there for me and think of me first. Someone who wouldn't scold me for everything I did or make me feel bad for it. Someone who'd see more than just clumsy, nervous Marinette."

As much as it hurt to admit, the description didn't fit Adrien. Unless they found each other by coincidence - something that actually happened today, oddly enough - he didn't go out of his way to spend time with her; it was her putting in the effort.

"And..." She trailed off momentarily, lost in her thoughts. "after we fell in love, I'd give up my powers and live happily ever after with him, because we didn't need powers to be happy and it wasn't my powers he fell in love with in the first place."

She'd finished the tuxedo at that point, courtesy of her knitting powers, but her hands dropped to her lap afterward, not making any further movements as her thoughts took over.

Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Viperion take a quick look outside the alley, then get up to move over to her. He sat next to her, picking up one of her hands and letting it rest in his palm.

"I think your dream is really beautiful," he told her gently.

She scoffed, blushing in embarrassment at what must've been fake praise. "Chat made fun of me wanting to be the knitting fairy."

"He was wrong," he retorted immediately. "Your dream might not be realistic, but that doesn't make it any less nice, and there's nothing wrong with dreaming of the perfect guy."

She met his gaze, the softness in them having not lessened even since their break-up, and found the strength to start working on the dress. Being with Luka - dating or otherwise - had always been so easy, excluding all the factors outside of just them being them. She could vaguely imagine her younger self clinging to Luka, claiming him as hers and insisting that he marry her when they grew up.

But things weren't that easy. Nothing was. Marinette had spent her whole life fighting for what she wanted, needing to prove herself to people in order to be accepted.

Fighting for years to smile against Chloe's bullying, because no one would do anything about it. Fighting to be acknowledged by her parents as someone who could do things and didn't need their protection. Fighting against herself to be the one who didn't make all the mistakes or have to be the one to apologize in the end.

After becoming Ladybug, her future became even cloudier and the fighting continued. Waking up in the morning was even harder thanks to late-night patrols, getting through tests seemed impossible due to having less time for studying, and even maintaining a romantic relationship carried the struggle of not being able to tell them her identity.

Marinette stared at the shimmering pink and white fabric beneath her fingertips, it shaping and forming to her will. The occasional sparkle or flash from a beam of sunlight that happened to shine through reminded her of the day at the TV station, where Luka had confessed and she could see only him for just a moment.

"I'm sorry."

Viperion hummed in confusion, raising a brow at her.

"I made everything complicated for you—us," she explained. "All the time, ever since we met. I even got you akumatized, twice."

"Twi—" He blinked rapidly, then leaned closer. His hand came in contact with her cheek as he directed her gaze back to him. "You mean Silencer? How was that your fault?"

"I challenged Bob Roth, and when he grabbed me, you got upset. It pushed you over to the edge."

"You were defending me and my music," he argued, a sternness in his tone that wasn't there before as he put his hand to his chest, "and my emotions are my own. I'm the one who gave into Hawk Moth, not you."

"But..." She sighed, conflicted. "Even later, I kept my identity from you when we were dating. I made us both miserable because of it. I was so upset that I ended up yelling at my friends and they all got akumatized, and then I went and gave my identity to Alya anyway."

His eyes widened for a fraction of a second, though he quickly schooled his expression for reasons she didn't know. His gaze strayed momentarily before he looked back at her, asking, "Would you be upset at me for feeling happy for a moment, knowing that you were just as miserable as I was?"

"W-what?" She shook her head; if anything, knowing that he'd also been miserable made her happy as well, probably in the same way as it was for him. It meant that they both cared about it. "No! Not at all!"

"Then I don't blame you for your emotions either."

She pouted at him, but he merely smiled in response. She knew this wasn't a matter he was going to budge on, but it was difficult for her to understand when she was so commonly blamed for things. That was Luka though, she supposed, always forgiving and able to see through her faults.

She remembered her dream husband again and tried to act like her full focus was on the dress so as to not give her thoughts away. She'd only drawn the unnamed man once or twice, and it was just occurring to her that he had black hair and blue eyes as well. Having not understood the concept of kids looking like their parents in their own way at the time, the child version of her had thought it'd be "fair," because then their children would look like both of them no matter what. It was strange, just how much the "simple" version of her love ideals lined up with the boy sitting in front of her now, even with his temporarily green eyes.

Friendship had become something very precious to her ever since the day she'd gotten her miraculous, maybe even more than love itself. Despite the complications and their brief time dating, she was friends with Luka above all else. No matter what happened in regards to the romantic aspects of their relationship, their friendship remained unchanged, like they really would be friends even if they had the worst break-up in the history of Paris. It was comfortable, to the point where she felt embarrassed for ever avoiding him in the first place.

She was reminded yet again of another stark contrast with Adrien. She hadn't been scared of starting anything with Luka, yet Adrien was a constant cloud of dread above her head, the fear of being rejected or being made fun of holding her back from doing what she wanted.

If her child self could see her now, she'd be confused. Marinette could hear her now, asking why her love - or at least, what she believed to be love - caused her so much stress. That was never what she'd wanted; in fact, it had been the exact opposite. Crushing on Adrien had done nothing but humiliate her, the little girl inside her covering her eyes from the sight. Her time with Luka, on the other hand...

"It looks beautiful."

Marinette jerked her head up to see Viperion's approving gaze, then looked down to the wedding dress in her lap. It was finished, pink with flashes of white and blacks; exactly the kind of dress she would've wanted when she was younger, though obviously with an older touch.

"Thank you," she hurried to say when she realized that she hadn't responded to him. He chuckled in reply, though it was good-natured.

He reached for the tuxedo she'd set aside, but stopped halfway as if realizing something. He looked to her, then the dress, then back to her, asking carefully, "Do you want me to keep watch while we put these on?"

It took her a moment to realize what he meant; that he - wearing a bodysuit - could easily slip on the clothes over it, but she didn't have that sort of luxury due to her dress. She managed to summon enough of her inner Ladybug to focus on the importance of the task over the potential embarrassment, giving him an appreciative nod.

She trusted him not to look.

As she went to the darkest parts of the alley to change, Viperion heading in the opposite direction, her mind drifted back to the past again. The little journey there, even if it'd been unwilling on her part courtesy of the akuma, had been a nice change from constantly worrying over her future. As important as it was to focus on what she wanted to do and plan accordingly, the past was equally as important. It shaped her into who she was now and offered insight on herself that she couldn't have gotten otherwise.

"...Lu—I mean, Viperion?" she called just as she finished putting on the wedding dress.

"Yeah?"

She turned to face him, then giggled when noticing that he still had his back turned to her. "You can look now."

He hesitated, then slowly shifted to face her. He was mostly dressed, but was in the process of buttoning up the tuxedo, his hands fumbling with one of the buttons as he took her in.

She approached, gently brushing his hands aside as she started taking care of the few remaining buttons. Not wanting to delay talking to him like before, she figured now was the best time as any to say what was on her mind.

"I still don't know what I want for my future. I feel like a lot of doors are opening and closing every day, and whenever I want to try one, there just ends up being more doors, or it's already closed when I get there. There are too many possibilities and I keep being afraid that I'll trip on the one I really want to go to." Her gaze left the button she was holding so she could meet his eyes. "I just know that I really want you to be there for all of it... i-if that's what you want." Wanting to make sure instead of presuming like she tended to do, she asked cautiously, "Do you?"

His face didn't show a visible reaction, but she heard the slight sound of him swallowing, synced up with a single blink. Afterward, he absolutely beamed at her, the smile more blinding than the light being cast against his back.

"I do," he replied,

In time with his words, the final button was slipped into place. Marinette felt a warm sensation run through her body, starting from her feet and then making her shudder as it moved its way up to her head. Her body was turning white, just as before when Wishmaker first shot her, though Viperion's tuxedo had joined as well.

There was a flash between them, and she found herself back as normal, wingless Marinette when it faded.

Viperion, now lacking what she'd made for him, still looked just as happy to see her.

"I-I did it!" she gasped, genuinely surprised that it worked. "We did it!"

She threw her hands up in the air in celebration, but snapped back to reality as she remembered that she still needed to turn back into Ladybug and take care of Wishmaker. She opened her purse, easing as she saw Tikki already munching away on a macaron.

"Marinette?"

She looked back up at Viperion, noticing that he still had something to say. "Yes?"

"I might not be able to make enough sense of your inner music to tell you what you'll want, but I don't think you have anything to worry about. I know that whatever you decide to do is going to be as extraordinary as you are."

She stifled a squeak, blushing at the sudden compliment and thankful that Tikki was still chewing the last bits of the macaron. "A-ah, thank you. You too—with the extraordinary thing, not your inner music, because I can't hear that even though I'm sure it's really amazing!"

Had it been anyone else, she might've prayed for a hole to swallow her, but it was impossible to feel weird when he smiled at her the way he did.

Once Tikki had gotten her fill, Marinette transformed and they began to leave the alley together, though Ladybug stopped partway as she remembered something; something she'd done many times before and felt it time to get back to doing.

Viperion raised a brow at her sudden stopping, then stiffened when she leaned towards him and kissed his cheek. She flashed him a smile, noting silently that she missed these little exchanges between them, then leaped away to head back to where Wishmaker was likely to be. Viperion followed suit, but a split second behind his usual speed.

She was sure he'd be smiling back if she looked, but she didn't have to; they were connected, maybe not by some sort of magic thread or cosmic force, but by them and the relationship she hoped that they would continue to build in the future.

And whenever they got back to the fight, just in time to see Chat Noir allow himself to be hit by Wishmaker's attack, a few more doors would close and her future would start to look a little different than what she'd considered that morning.

Not necessarily in a bad way either.