#I'm litterally sobbing | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

taifenggg · 6 months ago

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hi! 🌷 i love your scenarios so i instantly came to rq here <3

could you write about mc and the brothers having possessive s3x for the first time? their relationship is relatively new and they did it a few times, but for some reason they got jealous and the way they deal with it is by having somewhat angry / possessive s3x with reader (which is very different from what they're used to do

for example: belphie is usually lazy or slow, satan is a gentleman and spends a lot of time on foreplay, reader notices how their usual this time is almost the opposite bc the brother in question is SO jealous

idk if it made sense </3 if writing the 7 of them feels too much for you, then would mammon + satan + barbatos be okay? they're my favorites!

have an amazing day btw i love your content

Content Warning(s): NSFW obviously LMAO, hairpulling(Lucifer, Belphie), semi-public(Mammon, Asmo), overstimulation(Satan), slight degradation(Belphie), not proofread LOL

Character(s): GN!Reader(no pronouns mentioned), Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmo, Beel, Belphie, Barbatos

Authors Notes: hi there! i'm so flattered you love my writing, it means a lot! and dw I saw your other ask, so you're all good no worries about verification. nonnie, I'll do you one better and I ended up writing all the bros plus barbs as a bonus lol. enjoy!

nsfw under the cut! minors dni or i will block you :)

Reminder to abide by my guidelines for NSFW content tysm :]

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Lucifer [🦚💙]

Others keep occupying your time.

"Remind me again, who exactly do you belong to?"

Your moans are stifled as you press your face against the pillow. Lucifer's pace is relentless and although he can be rough in general, tonight feels different. There's something far more carnal and possessive in the way Lucifer thrusts into you. His movements are done so with reckless abandon, a stark contrast to how he usually takes you.

"Y-you Lucifer!" you gasp, body shaking from the intense pleasure coursing through your body. You yelp and moan out his name as he runs a hand through your scalp, pulling your face so that you're staring at him, his hands having a firm grip on your hair. "I can't hear you, louder," he commands you, your faces practically centimeters away from each other.

"You Lucifer!" you sob, feeling his large hand pressing into the small of your back, pushing you down against the mattress. Lucifer smirks, his other hand trailing down to your neck, holding you there firmly. "That's right my love, me. Not my brothers and certainly not that shady sorcerer," he practically spits out those last words. Lucifer's head falls back as he continues to thrust roughly into you, feeling himself close to his release.

You can feel yourself tightening around him, and you arch your back, body shaking as your orgasm washes over you. Lucifer lets out a low moan, making a few more shallow thrusts into you before spilling his seed into your hole. Chest heaving, he pulls out, watching with satisfaction as his release trickles out of you. Taking two fingers, he trails them up your inner thighs, causing you to jump from how sensitive you were after your high. Lucifer takes his fingers and takes the excess that spills out, prodding it back in.

"Keep that in there my love, it's proof that you're mine after all, if not, I'll have to punish you a bit more unfortunately. You can do that, can't you?"

Mammon [💰💛]

Someone thought flirting with you at the casino was a good idea.

"Dammit, you drive me crazy y'know?"

Your legs are currently wrapped around Mammon's waist, goosebumps littering your skin as you feel the wall against your back, your shirt long discarded. Your arms are wrapped securely around Mammon's neck for support. Mammon kisses you roughly, hungrily, as if he were scared of you running away or disappearing from right in front of him.

"That damn incubus," he hisses, pushing into you, "Thinking they have anything on the Great Mammon. You're my lucky charm, no one else's." His teeth scrape at your neck as he leaves mark after mark. You're pretty sure your back is rubbed raw from how fast and hard Mammon is thrusting into you, and your legs shake around Mammon's waist, but despite this Mammon holds you securely, his grip on your thighs giving you enough support.

"Mammon!" you whine, your hands tangled in his hair. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and you can hear Mammon gasp, groan, and curse with each thrust he makes. Judging by how loud the two of you were being, you had no doubt that the entire casino knew that you were getting fucked hard by Mammon.

"You're mine alright? Mine, mine, mine, my treasure," he whispers in your ear, and he accentuates each of his words with a slap of his hips against yours. Your moans become louder and you can practically feel yourself on the verge of releasing onto him.

"Mine." And with one last word, Mammon makes one last thrust up into you, hitting your most sensitive spot and you practically go limp in his arms as your orgasm washes over you. Mammon's hips slowly still, and he checks over you, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"I won't let anyone take you from me alright? Much less some random incubus who thinks they can steal my treasure from me."

Leviathan [🐍🧡]

You showed him your duo in an online game.

"Levi, they're just a friend!" You gasp softly as he pushes you into his bathtub, a pout on his face. Immediately, he presses himself up against you, rubbing his cheek against your exposed collarbone. "I don't care," he grumbles softly, one hand snaking up to pin your hands above your head, his other hand trailing underneath your shirt, caressing your sides. "I should be the only one to carry you, not anyone else. You're my player 2, my Henry," he nips at your shoulder and you shudder, feeling yourself grow aroused from the close proximity and from his touches.

"I don't care if they're ranked number one, I'll prove I'm better than them by beating them!" His pupils are dilated as he looks at you below him, and he can't help the sudden ache and the growing tent in his pants. Gasping softly, he starts grinding up against you, and you can't help but reach up for him, pulling his hips flush against yours, in search of some very much needed friction to relieve the tension you're feeling.

Both of your gasps can be heard, and you're pretty sure that if Levi didn't soundproof his room, anyone walking outside could probably hear just how heated the two of you were getting. You tighten your grasp on him, your hands snaking up to tug at the back of his hair cause Levi to moan against you as he kisses you roughly.

You stare up at him blearily, not even realizing when he shifted into his demon form. Shivering, one of your hands move from the back of his head, down to his abdomen and Levi jerks in your grasp, a flush painting his pale face.

"Do you know how badly I want you? Please don't give your attention to others, just stay focused on me."

Satan [😾💚]

Gets riled up because he sees Lucifer closer to you than he'd like.

Your chest heaves from exertion as Satan brings you to your umpteenth release. Your legs are shaking from overstimulation and you're pretty sure you've lost count of how many times Satan has made you come. His bangs stick to his forehead as he dives back between your legs, sucking marks along your inner thighs, his grip digging into the flesh of your thighs.

Your hands make their way to his hair, tugging on the golden strands and you feel Satan groan, his moans sending vibrations down your core. He looks up at you, pupils dilated. "Satan no more please! I can't take it anymore," you whimper softly, feeling tears prick at the edge of your vision. Satan only laughs looking up at you, using a hand to push his hair out of his eyes. "Nono, we're not finished yet," his voice is dangerously soft as he stares at you, body trembling underneath his gaze. His nose wrinkles and his eyes narrow as he pulls your bottom closer to him, once again positioning himself between your legs. "I can still smell him on you and I intend to erase every trace of Lucifer from you, from your mind, and from your body. Understand?"

You slowly nod, your thighs quivering either from anticipation or overstimulation, you weren't sure at this point anymore.

Satan smiles as he licks a stripe up where you're most sensitive, and your body jerks still sensitive from all your orgasming from earlier. You squirm to get your body away from him but his grip holds tight to you.

"Stay right where you are. I thoroughly intend to take my time with you tonight."

Asmodeus [💋🩷]

Your fans started getting too touchy with you.

Asmo isn't one to get jealous easily....not usually.

However, today was supposed to be about just you and him and it frustrated him to no end seeing your fans flock over to you, occupying all of your time. Asmo's eyes narrow as he watches them practically latch themselves onto you, and you barely pushing them away, laughing it off lightly. You're shocked by his sudden actions, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the crowd and down a secluded alleyway. His silence is rather unsettling, and there's a strange gleam in his eyes.

.....

"A-Asmo slow down!" You gasp out, feeling your back pressed against the wall, and Asmo's gaze trained on you, his hands sliding up your arms, pinning them above your head. You shiver, feeling his breath grace the outer shell of your ear, and you unintentionally tilt your head to the side, giving him more room to slot his face into your neck.

"Do you love me?" His question catches you off guard and you stare at him quizzically. "What? Of course I do." you frown slightly pulling on your hands, but Asmo holds your hands in place firmly. He presses his body against yours, and you gasp slightly, feeling his knee pressing against your crotch. "You sure seemed to be having fun entertaining those fans of yours. While I don't mind everyone fawning over you, today was just supposed to be about me and you was it not?" He has a slight pout on his face, lip jutting out.

You stare at him incredulously, eyes wide. If you were being honest, Asmo was adorable, especially with that little pout on his face. "It's not like you to be this jealous," you laugh a little, your face flushing. You feel him press your body more against the wall, and you have to suppress the urge to let out a moan as he continues grinding his leg against where you're most sensitive. His hand snakes past the waistband of your pants and you nearly keel over from his touch, leaning against him for support.

"I'm only like this for you, and no one else."

Beelzebub [🍔❤️]

His Fangol teammates were far friendlier to you than he'd like.

Your throat is sore, but that's a given considering you had spent the good part of the last few hours screaming out Beel's name, cheering him on after he scored point after point. What you certainly didn't forsee was you practically folded over one of the benches in the locker room, Beel holding one of your legs wide open as he thrusts into you roughly. The way you're positioned, if someone were to open the door to the locker room would end up seeing you sprawled out as Beel rammed himself against you.

"S-slow down Beel! It's too much!" Your head falls back, and you feel like you're being split apart by how big he is. Normally, Beel is much more gentle, taking his time with you but it seems that in the heat of the moment, he chose to forgo any sense of moderation.

"I don't like that my teammates got too close to you," he grunts, hips stuttering as he pulls you closer, his chest heaving from exertion. Ah that's right, he's referring to his teammates that immediately crowded around you to thank you for cheering so fervently for them. You remember the way Beel watched you from outside the crowd, his expression unreadable. You can recall conversing with his fellow teammates before feeling a pair of hands loop around your waist, pulling you towards them....which somehow led to the situation that you were currently in.

Beel's grip on your thigh is borderline painful, and you're sure that there'll be marks there come tomorrow from how roughly he's currently manhandling you. You reach up grasping at his arm, momentarily causing his movements to falter as he looks at you, temporarily shaken out of his frenzy. "Beel slow down please, I swear I only have eyes for you," you whimper softly, your legs shaking. His expression softens as he stares down at you, leaning over to press an apologetic kiss to your forehead. His motions are slower now, you notice, and there's a tenderness in the way he holds onto you now, one hand pressed against your waist, the other still holding onto your thigh but much less tight now.

"Sorry, you drive me crazy. I promise I'll make this up to you later."

Belphegor [🐮💜]

Your project partner was getting too buddy-buddy with you.

"Hahh, fuck you're so tight~"

Belphie practically hisses this in your ear as he sinks into you, bent over one of the desks in an empty classroom. The surface is cold against your front, your RAD uniform unbuttoned, and shirt pushed up as Belphie leans entirely against you. Your knuckles are white from how hard they're gripping the desk, meanwhile, Belphie has a good grasp on you from behind, his hand tugging at your scalp.

Your back arches as he thrusts into you, using your head as leverage, and you're pretty sure everyone outside has a pretty good idea of what's going on, based on how loudly the desk is scraping against the floor. Your gasp, shoulders hunched as you hold onto desperately to the desk. Belphie's tail flicks irritably as he watches your expression. "Enjoying this are you? Do you really like everyone outside knowing how I'm using you right now? Let them know how desperate you are for me to fuck you dumb like this. Go on, moan louder why don't you."

Your heart pounds in your chest and you let out shuddering breaths as Belphie's hips snap against you, hitting your most sensitive spots. He leans over, whispering in your ear, "The door's unlocked, and anyone could walk in right now and see the two of us like this. Are you getting off to this? To the idea of others seeing what a mess you are right now? Well, that's too damn bad because no one can have you like I can, and certainly not your project partner....what's their face?" He practically spits out, and you can feel the jealousy practically dripping off of him.

"Thinking they're better than me, too bad they'll never get the chance to see you like this. Oh well, you'll behave for me won't you?"

+ Bonus

Barbatos [⌛🖤]

The Young Master was occupying too much of your time.

"Apologies, I'm afraid I won't be able to restrain myself tonight."

You stare at Barbatos confused, watching as he approaches you at the foot of the bed, smoothly pushing you down in one swift moment with one hand. The other lifted to his mouth as he bites at the finger, and pulls it off just as swiftly. Your mouth is agape as he switches hands, holding you down with ease as he removes his other glove.

"As much as I'd like to thank the young master for consistently inviting you over for tea, I will admit there are times when it was just the two of us without his presence." His hands trail your figure, and you're not quite sure what it is about him tonight but he seems.....different. He's far more forward, taking the initiative rather than waiting for you to take the lead. You gasp as you feel his mouth on you, his teeth scraping along your neck. You gasp, leaning away so he has more room to do as he pleases.

"Barbatos-" He presses a finger to your lips, effectively shushing you. There's just something that turns him on so much, seeing you underneath him so helpless and pliant. His nose is wrinkled slightly as he gazes at you. You lay there, back arching as Barbatos has his way with you, cold hands caressing you, but not touching you where you ached for him the most.

"Hush now, let me take care of you, my love."

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Ahhhh I've been waiting for your requests to open, I've been following you since your first Price fic and never had an idea to request until like 2 weeks ago 😫 so, I've been thinking, what about being in a relationship with Keegan but getting separated when ODIN hits the earth and not meeting again until about 5 years later? 👀 Love your writing, hope you have a great day 🩵 :)

For The Weak And Weary

PAIRING: Keegan P. Russ x F!Reader

SYNOPSIS: When ODIN struck you had thought he had died, sky alight with fire. It had taken years to accept it, much less live with it. But after Dallas falls, would you get a glimpse of your Lover's phantom again?

WORDCOUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Angst, depressive thoughts, PTSD insinuations, gore, wounds, blood, death, canon-typical violence, (1) suggestive joke, alcohol, hallucinations, fluffy reunion, tears, verbal arguments, etc.

A/N: Just because I'm a sucker for sticking to the game timeline I made it ten years, lol. Enjoy, Anon! Very fun prompt.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You could never make sense of what Keegan went through in 2005 during Operation Sand Viper. It would be pointless to try and wrap your head around it from what little you knew. All that mattered was that when he came back on leave, something in his eyes was…damaged. Hell, he’d only been sixteen—the both of you had known each other since you were kids, you knew when something was wrong.

And this was entirely new to you.

He smiled less and snapped more; got spooked when you dropped something in his family's kitchen like a grenade had gone off. Maybe, you reasoned, he thought one actually had.

But through it all, you could still see how much he cared about you. When you were old enough you’d both moved into a nice place in the suburbs and started a relationship—a life shared between the two of you.

You knew he loved you from the way he’d grip you close at night and breathe into your scalp. How when you were sick from the take-out dinner he’d brought home, Keegan would hold back your hair and rub circles into your spine as you threw up. He never shied away from telling you how beautiful you were; prided himself on it. Keegan loved to show you off.

But there were times back then when you wondered if the same Keegan that had been so fulfilled to join Ghosts had died, and, in fact, a phantom was instead puppeting his skin. He was so quiet now.

If you’d known that the world was going to end on July 10th, 2017, you’d have never let him walk out that door angry. You would have grabbed his hand and pressed your lips to his, whispered affirmations into his flesh and sobbed at the cruelty of it all.

“I can’t keep pretending that you’re okay!” You yell, tears in your eyes, at the man standing tense in the kitchen doorway. Blank blue eyes stare lifelessly. “Keegan—this is killing you.”

It was early morning by then, and the neighborhood was quiet. The house that the both of you had moved into years ago was littered with the remnants of a happy home. Pictures on the walls, dishes in the sink, and freshly baked bread on the counter. All you’d tried to do was give Keegan a hug, slipping your hands around his waist when you’d entered.

He’d balked back, jerking to the side and nearly elbowed you in the gut before he saw your wide eyes and stopped himself. The way he’d looked at you…how could eyes be so dead?

“You need to talk to someone,” you put your foot down, shaking your head. ��I-I don’t know a therapist or…or someone who can get you proper help because I can’t keep acting like I can live like this.”

Every mission, every time he went away, it always got worse.

Keegan’s eyes get sharp, hands at his sides clenching. He speaks in a low growl. “I don’t need to talk to a shrink, alright? I’m fine, you just startled me.”

“Bullshit,” your mouth hisses, glaring. “You thought you were back in ‘05.”

The man points at you, strong jaw clenching, “Don’t.”

“Keegan,” you plead, “please, I love you! I don’t care about this, I just want you to be alright. To be able to live your life—”

“What you want is to try and change me!” The black-haired man barks. Your eyes blink in shock. Keegan rarely yelled. “I already told you I was fine, why don’t you get off my back all the time?” His eyes flash, pupils going to slits as his hands shake at his sides. Why did he look scared? Your breath stills, lips slightly open, with tears dripping to the tile. “Fuck, it’s like I can’t come home without you pesterin’ me ‘bout something!”

A stiff silence falls.

“Kee—” He snaps a hand to his mouth and rubs at his stubble, suddenly unable to look at you.

“...Forget it.” It’s low and shaky how he says it, eyes wide, before he darts into the foyer and slips into his boots. You listen to the sounds of panicked shuffling before the man wrenches open the front door and slams it shut behind him. One of the picture frames falls and hits the ground with a shattering of glass.

You flinch and tense, taking down a terse breath and sniffling tightly. Trying to get your lungs to work properly, your feet take you over to the picture as they feel weak and uneven; a stuttering mess of steps before you bend down. Your fingers bleed as they shift the glass away, taking out the image of you and Keegan on your hike through the mountains.

Smiling faces mock you, and you break at the bright and open affection Keegan wears as he looks down at you—eyebrows curved up and smirk like a knife to the chest.

You loved him so much it hurt to breathe when he was away.

He had needed time, you knew, but what you didn’t know was that time wouldn’t be available. Around noon the world had opened into a ball of fire and death. 27 million dead. Los Angeles, San Diego, Phoenix, Houston, and Miami…all gone…at least, that was what everyone in Dallas was telling you.

When Keegan had been away taking a walk to calm himself, you’d been home alone. The earth caved, the ground shook; houses burst like balloons. By the time you’d crawled from the rubble of your home, all you had was the picture and the clothes on your back. People were screaming—you were screaming. But you knew that you couldn’t stay here if you wanted to survive.

And then you’d made it to Dallas by sheer luck and the few tricks Keegan had taught you; had thought that he had died in that first strike by the Federation. You carried that guilt and self-hatred for not holding your tongue for a few more hours.

So much could have been different in these ten years. Better. You never got over him for even a second.

But the reality was that you couldn’t think about all of that now, because if you didn’t focus on holding your breath you would be dead in the next three seconds.

Your hand is anchored to the body of your sniper rifle, finger hovering over the trigger as you hide behind the outcropping of rubble in the decimated cityscape; the air is hot and humid despite the weight of the night. It sticks to your skin in a sheen of violent sweat. Yet it’s still not as potent as the blood.

Teeth gritted, you hold back whimpers as Federation soldiers stalk the grounds, scores of them—legions. An entire army that had breached the walls and executed everyone insight, soldiers, civilians, if it once moved it didn’t anymore. The burning in your shoulder was agonizing, head smashing itself back to the rubble in an attempt to stifle your own ragged need to scream into the night as layers had peeled back to allow a bullet to pass through.

In the ten years you’d been here, you’d taken up the mantle of quite the sharpshooter; pulling on Keegan’s lessons when he was on leave and wanted to bring you to the firing range. You had even picked a rifle similar to the one back in your destroyed home—held in a plastic case and treated like royalty by your long-deceased lover. It wasn’t the same, but the jet-black Lynx made you steady like the picture in your breast pocket did.

A reminder of what was lost and why you had picked the knock-off up in the first place.

Footsteps get closer as the sweep of a flashlight cards above your skull, if possible you go even more still, lips pulled in and heart rampaging. There were barked orders and yelling, but no more screaming.

How long had you been unconscious after taking that shot to the shoulder? Fear was breeding with horror—was…was everyone dead?

Spanish is loudly called not five feet away, and the flashlight leaves as your breath does. You let off a quiet gasp and suck down air greedily. Eyes flashing from one shadow to another, you look for any opportunity to slip away from the city. In the wind, you could smell fire, and taste it on your tongue as you licked your lips.

All around you can see the limp shadows of bodies and the apartments, large skyscrapers were on fire deep in their frames. The city was entirely lost.

How the federation got into the walls you would never know, though there was concern about the enemy soldiers rounding up civilians outside the walls and executing them. Maybe one cracked before the bullet entered their skull.

You bite hard into your lip to force back your pain. Trying to shoot a rifle would be useless at this point, you might as well have lost the limb. Slinging the gun’s strap over your head, you look back and forth along your visible perimeter, checking for hostiles as you unsheathe your combat knife and cradle your limp arm to your chest.

If only Keegan could see you now.

Rounds of gunfire make the air burn with urgency, and you take the time to peek out behind as sweat makes a trail down your dirty face, dripping off of your chin as you breathe like a wheezing dog. Your wound needed tending, and you had the med pack on your vest with the supplies, but you can’t do it here.

Where’s safe? If Dallas has fallen…is there anywhere that’s still standing? A location hits your brain as your gaze darts from one abandoned street to another. You take a deep breath and whine as you force your legs to stand and move quickly, feet shifting as quietly as you’re able to make them.

“Fort Santa Monica.” Now a stronghold, you’d heard US soldiers here talking about the large presence of military power out in California—numbers so great they rivaled those that had lived in Dallas.

You stumble over a spasming body and slam your uninjured shoulder into the bulk of the building’s wall, groaning loudly like a wounded boar.

“Fuck!” If you made it out of the city, that would be where you would have to go; to warn them of what was coming. The Federation had found a way inside the Dallas wall, and that meant if they had enough tenacity, they could do it to them too.

Everything would be done if another city fell.

Holding your knife tighter, you push off the wall and grit your teeth harder, mind running on that edge of hysteria and forced calm. It’s in these moments where you have to pull on old memories to keep you going—even if they end up hurting more than the open wounds you carry.

Keegan had his bad moments, but you always got through them together. Years and years of knowing each other inside and out; memorizing bodies and thoughts like they were second nature. He would want you to keep fighting, tell you to get your ass in gear and go…and you would never let him down.

You owed him that much even if some days you wanted more than anything to join him.

Blade in hand, you hear muttered speech from up the alleyway and pause, feet splayed but still swaying as you come to a slow stop. Your ears ring at garbled sentences, foreign words spilling into one another.

Panting, you listen closely, limbs vibrating. More gunfire echoes over the air, screams and death that get ingrained into your head like a brand into sizzling flesh. Skyscrapers burned and buildings fell with great earthquake booms. Everything is under a sheen of distance.

Get out of the city. Get to Fort Santa Monica.

“Kill who I have to,” you slur out, itching at your neck as you leave a trail of blood behind you. A single pair of footsteps walk quickly forward near your corner and you hold your breath, bringing up your knife as pain pounds in your arm.

Deep blue eyes sit in the back of your mind, counting you down as they always did.

Keep your arm steady for me, Doll, a phantom tells you. Breathe...

When the first shadow of a Fed soldier graces your eyes, you strike.

—

It’s roughly nineteen days from Dallas to Santa Monica, and that was if you kept up at a steady walking pace. If the crude sling you’d fashioned from bandages found in your med pack was any indicator, it would be double that.

On the first day, you had hiked half-dead over the destroyed landscape of what remained of the USA, licking your wounds and counting your losses. You’d had your pick of abandoned houses, taking a red brick one just because it looked nice and you were about to pass out from blood loss. The only reason you’d made it this far was that the bullet had thankfully passed right through you, making sure that if you moved too suddenly no more damage was being done internally. You packed it with a sterile rag.

Sitting in the home, pictures gathering dust on the fireplace mantle, you tipped back a bottle of whisky you’d found in one of the bedrooms, grimacing at the sting. It was better to be drunk for what you were about to do.

Heating up your combat knife in the fire you had started in the hearth, you watched the metal grow an eye-flinching white as you stared off into nothingness.

“You remember when you showed me that scar, Keegan?” You always talked to him. Others had given you shit for it, but they knew the purpose. If you didn’t talk to someone, even a ghost, you would give up.

The guilt was eating you alive, and it would overtake you eventually. Hadn’t in ten years, but it would…you knew it, everyone did.

Keegan was everything, and nothing looked the same when you lost him.

“The one on your thigh?” Pulling the knife back, you turn to the leaking flesh of your shoulder, gushing blood as black desecrates the sides of your eyes. You’d taken off your vest and shirt. If you tried hard enough you could imagine Keegan standing in the corner, watching. Always watching. “You said you had to dig a bullet out and cauterize the wound—when I asked you said you barely felt it over all the adrenaline.”

The ghost tilts its head, eyes sad and lips pulling taunt. Your lungs take in a shaky inhale and your hand quivers; only you feel how your eyes burn with unshed tears.

“I never thought about it before,” right as you growl and shove the knife into your skin, you bark out in fear, “But I think you were fucking lying!”

On day two, you knew you had to avoid the remains of Fort Worth, so you decided to increase your distance and cut that landmark out entirely—too many remnants of Federation. They were everywhere now, and you needed to keep low; get out of Texas. You scavenged properties and took stock.

Four magazines for your Lynx, a pouch with five protein bars, one bottle of water attached to your belt, and your knife. Normally you’d have a pistol at your thigh, but you’d used it up in the firefight back home. When you’d woken back up, it had been gone.

And, of course, you had the picture. You kissed Keegan’s face and placed it back in your breast pocket, caressing the material softly before clearing your throat and addressing the obvious.

With what you had getting to California was a pipe dream.

You’d been on the radio all day, clicking through channels and pleading for anyone alive to reach out. Nothing. Static.

I’m the only one left. The thought was intoxicating, pounding in your skull like your hangover. Everyone is dead.

While you had become somewhat of a loner in the last ten years, especially with the few months you’d been by yourself in the beginning, Dallas had given you a chance to build bonds again. Ten years, and in an instant it was all wiped out.

It rang a devastating bell.

Somehow, you had cheated death where so many others had failed—not only in Texas, but back with ODIN too. You had survived, but somehow Keegan hadn’t.

Keegan, the one who never spoke about ‘05 and jerked awake from nightmares years later because of it. Keegan, who wanted nothing more than to stay at your side when he was home and keep you on his chest when watching movies. Keegan, the love of your life.

The only love of your life.

“I really wish you were here,” you mutter, grimacing as your arm gets jostled as you stumble over a piece of rusted metal in the empty street. “Who gave you the right to go away before me, huh? We were supposed to grow old together, Russ. You promised me that.”

Garbage gets blown over the road when a hot breeze shifts the air, bringing the scent of dirt and the noise of rustling trees. Nature has reclaimed the towns and suburbs—great patches of ivy and long grass that rise to your hips. But the silence was a curse.

The only thing keeping you going is the thought of delivering your warning to Santa Monica, from there…

Your lips thinned. What even was there left? How many times could you go from one place to another, starting over with stories of your past and having to brush the pitying looks off as you fake a smile?

Shaking your head, you recall memories from the better days as the light gets low in the sky.

“You’re doin’ too much, Sweet Thing,” Keegan mutters, and you turn from the stove top with a bright smile to face him.

He had just gotten out of the shower, towel ruffling through his dark hair as he stands in the kitchen entrance and watches you cook for him. The shirt hangs off of his wide shoulders, and gray sweatpants are loose over his formed hips—his strong brow line raises in a casual expression.

“Oh, don’t act like you don’t like it,” you tease, hearing his low chuckles as you turn back to your pan. “You look good, y’know.”

“Oh, yeah?” Keegan grunts, smirking, and his feet pad over to you, tossing the towel to the counter as his presence looms over your back. Large hands grab onto your hips and a nose burrows into your hair; inhaling deeply before gradually melting to the curve of your spine.

You smile and hum, pushing back so you can rest on his chest. A chin sets itself on your head, deep massaging fingers making you pur as they bunch your sleep shorts.

It was late—nearly two in the morning. Keegan had only gotten home a short while ago, but sleep wasn’t going to stop you from spoiling him. A wine bottle was on the island counter, two glasses, and the food was nearly done from what you could scrounge up on short notice.

“...Good to be back,” the man grumbles into you, kissing your head and slowly sweeping his arms around your waist as you sighed softly at the contact.

Your face gains heat.

“Well, I’d sure hope so, or else this would be awkward.” You huff to hide the bright smile in your voice. But like a moth to flame, you hear, as well as feel, Keegan chuckle against your spine. His grip squeezes you for a moment.

“How was it when I was away?” He asks as you move around the contents in the pan, nose brushing your neck as his lips travel to kiss behind your ear. He breathes against the flesh as his low rasp makes you shiver. “Any trouble?”

“Negative, Sergeant,” you raise a brow and smirk over your shoulder at him, seeing his blues spark as he gazes hard into your eyes. A faint twitch to his lips is what you get before his hand captures your cheek; anchoring your face as he descends to connect his mouth to yours.

He sighs into it, arm still around your waist—tight as if you were a pillow.

“Keep talkin’ like that and we won’t have to wait long for dessert, will we?”

Days three through seven were uneventful beyond the constant agony of your arm and tired legs, but on day eight amid a waterless walk in the sweltering heat was when the hallucinations began.

Keegan walks beside you, his footsteps mirroring your own as sweat pools down your forehead and drips off your nose. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t look at you—he just walks, looking exactly like he did the day he died.

At first, you’d flinched back and blinked wildly at the sight, panting, but then he’d disappeared and your heart had shattered. It worried you with what you were seeing, but it was also a strange comfort to be able to ramble to…something, even if it wasn’t real. Hungry and with a dry tongue, you were on the verge of calling it quits.

So on day eleven, without a wild animal in sight to give you a proper food source and all the water having to be purified, you started talking to him while licking the inside wrapper of your last protein bar.

“But I never understood why you hated sleeping in shirts,” you licked your lips to get the remnants of granola off of your flesh, pushing away the greasy sheen from your cheeks. Your arm was burning up—every heartbeat was felt as it moved the skin around red and infected flesh up and down. Puss was leaking out from the crude stitches you had made of embroidery thread from that first house you’d found.

“And you always kept the room freezing.” Continuing, you drop the wrapper to the ground and then take the meat of your fingers and get what little flavor you can off of them, grunting through realization. “That was a ploy to have me use you for heat, wasn’t it? Jesus.”

The man in the corner of your vision smirks, tilting his head and chuckling from where he leans against a tree trunk.

“Yeah, that’s right. Knew it.” Glaring at nothing, you stand from your overturned stump and nearly fall right back over, stomach yelling at you as your vision swirls.

You dig a hand into your hair and grip at the strands, pulling and groaning. “...God.”

Keegan comes over and stands above you, your eyes staring down at his feet as you get light-headed. You focus on his shoelaces, counting the Xs and taking down shaky breaths. When you blink like a cat with dirt on its face, the shoes are gone entirely and you stand back up to your full height.

“...Keegan?” You ask after a moment, the words disappearing into the trees, but no one’s around.

Your sight goes to your wound and your jaw tightens, moments of clarity slipping in as a knife would into your consciousness before the curtain settles once more.

You bend over and vomit what little nutrients you had, spending day twelve sleeping through a fit of nightmares and fever-induced delirium.

Nothing about the remainder of the time you can recall to memory—bits and pieces always flash through on long nights, but they’re only walking montages. Dragging feet, looking at your hand as if it was a foreign object as you turned it back and forth; everything in a sheen of sickness. Days and days and days. Little food. Less water.

More than one-thousand miles.

But somehow, the Wall peels out in front of you as you crash through the foliage, your body giving out and collapsing down a large decline. Bouncing and getting jostled by rocks, you come to a stop without the strength to get back up, staring blankly ahead as your head connects with concrete. Your mouth is open in broken inhales, pain not even registering.

Shouts echo, the pound of rapid feet.

Green eyes meet yours, a youthful face with a beanie and stubble. He’s saying something to you, glancing over your gear and your obvious near-death situation—his hand jostles the side of your face. But your eyes shift behind him gradually, attention falling to someone more important.

Before you finally let yourself rest, you stare at the smiling face of your steadfast phantom.

—

The doctors and nurses at Fort Santa Monica were nice, if a bit secretive about the entire operation. Seeing as you weren’t an official soldier, no dog tags or patches—no name in the database—everyone was a bit hesitant to tell you anything.

Until you said you were from Dallas, of course.

But no one was eager to rush you in your state, even if the information was dire. You had been hooked up to an IV and bedridden for a week straight; talking to nothing on account of the dehydration and electrolyte imbalances. Some days you spend unconscious.

But what really pissed you off when you got back into it, was the fact that they had taken your Lynx and your gear—your picture.

You’d almost grappled onto the first nurse you’d seen when you’d woken without it. It was a beacon, your prized possession of damaged corners and taped tears. Water damage that may or may not have been from sobbing fits in the first five years.

In fact, that was the entire reason you had snuck out so late in the first place.

Stalking down the hallway in the white shirt and camo pants that had been given to you on the fifth morning you had woken up here, you pad along with no shoes, only plain gray socks. You limp with bandaged flesh all along your healing shoulder and your feet.

The doctor had explained that you’d entirely skinned the bottoms and your heels were a mess of blisters and open wounds.

“Take my property,” you grumble under your breath, shuffling along and rubbing at the back of your neck. “What gives them the right?”

You weren’t going to stop until you found it.

Reading the name tags on the walls, you silently wonder where they would have taken your stuff as you slip out of the medical ward, listening to the buzzing of the lights and frowning. As you’re limping along the next hallway, a man suddenly turns the corner on nearly silent feet.

“Woah!” You halt immediately, heart jumping in your chest. A hand catches your shoulder before you run headlong into him.

Green eyes lock with your own, wide and blinking quickly. Brows furrow and you’re quickly looked over before a slow, teasing remark enters the air, you listen with a growing heat on your neck.

“Y’know, I could have sworn you were supposed to be in bed, Ma’am. I miss something here?” The man who had found you.

“Wouldn’t know,” you say blandly, blinking up at him and taking a careful step back. This brunette had a casual air to him—still in his gear despite the time. He folds his arms and tilts his head at you, smirking. “If you’ll excuse me.”

You begin to walk forward, slipping past him and hoping you won’t get snitched on. Except it seems you’ll be having a shadow, as not a few seconds later a smooth chuckle meets your ears and the man walks beside you.

“I think I’ll be taggin’ along if you don’t mind. Security and all.” He turns to face you, sticking out his opposite hand. “Hesh.”

“That supposed to be some kind of nickname, Kid?” You raise a stiff brow but participate in the handshake nonetheless. His grip is firm but not hard.

Hesh blinks at you, eyes swimming with amusement before he shrugs in a boyish way and shakes his head with a laugh. “Hell, you remind me of someone, Ma’am.” A moment passes in silence as you study the area. The man huffs, “Where exactly are we off to?”

“Wonderland,” your lips grumble, tired and wanting to sleep but not until you find your picture. Hesh sighs but you can still hear the hilarity inside of it.

“Alright then…don’t know if you’re going to be finding a shrinking potion anytime soon, though. We’re in low stock.”

“Very funny,” your eyes send a dry look, but you relent when he prods you with his eyes, taking a corner. “I’m looking for my vest.” Hesh blinks at you in curiosity, letting you elaborate as you motion to your upper shoulder. “My pouch has some of my personal belongings. I don’t like being away from it.”

“Oh,” the brunette nods a few times, his beanie jerking along. “Yeah, that’s no problem.” A hand is waved and you stare in confusion as he pivots. “C’mon, I’ll get you there.”

Your eyes burn into his back before you immediately speed after.

“Why so eager to help?” Hesh smirks at your question.

“As I see it, if you went over nineteen days of hard hiking just to get to us, you should at least be able to keep your stuff on you, Ma’am.” Your lips flicker in a smile.

“You’d be the first.” You tell him your name and miss the slight emotion it provokes in his eyes, head lightly pulling to the side but ultimately saying nothing. Hesh shrugs with a grunt, leading you to a meeting room on the opposite side of the building.

Yelling is on the other side.

“Elias, how long has this been kept from me?!” The voice makes your head perk, evoking something inside of your chest. Hesh seems taken aback too, holding up a hand to you for momentary silence—not that you had to be told.

“Keegan, I can’t have that happen. She needs to recover and you being there could jeopardize that. We need what she knows about Dallas.” Your body stills to a near-frozen state, and it’s comedic how your entire face falls to a blank slate. Wait a second.

…Keegan?

“She belongs with me—I thought she fucking died and she’s been here for who knows how long?! Why wasn’t I informed?” Rampaging feet suddenly sound off, going to the door at break-neck speed.

“Son, that’s not a good idea. This is what I was worried would happen if you found out.”

“I didn’t exactly ask, did I? As far as I’m concerned, nothing else matters besides getting back to my Girl,” the bark is ferocious and violent, more of an animal’s than a man’s. “Now where the hell did you put her before I tear this damn fort apart and—” You shove at the door before Hesh can grab you, throwing it open and letting it hit the opposite wall with a great boom of wood.

Your wild eyes instantaneously lock into sharp blues, pulse pounding in your ears. It’s like all the air is taken from your lungs in a great punch.

Oh, he’s so similar to how you remembered him to be ten years ago.

Keegan stands only a few feet away, turned in your direction with his eyes so wide and small you might faint. There’s black face paint in his sockets, making the cerulean all the more bright and shocking to the senses. He’s still tall, still built, if only a bit more rugged than when ODIN struck—there are lines on his forehead and his scars are more faded. Small differences in the way he holds himself like the difference between a rabbit and a hare. Keegan’s black locks are shorter now, but still…his.

Lips part in silent shock, an entire halt of your nervous system.

The entire universe holds its tongue as you two stare at each other; walls and rooms blur into a mess of matter and reality—this couldn’t be real.

Keegan’s feet shift for a moment as if to steady himself as his fingers twitch. In his hand, he holds your picture, his body covered in gear and weapons. He blinks as you tell yourself he’s a phantom, simply that same ghost come back to haunt you as tears sting the backs of your eyes. But then he speaks, and it’s the same voice you had slowly lost the ability to remember in year three.

“...Sweetheart?”

His ghost never spoke. His ghost could not imitate the phonics of his speech or the rhythm of his throat. His ghost could not make you recall the memories you’d long since boxed up.

You jerk forward just as he does, bodies colliding into a feral grip of flesh and fabric, hands latching and faces burying. Sobs rip from you as Keegan’s shaky breath echoes right next to your ear—his chest hitching and arms snatching your waist and lifting you up as easily as he always had. He holds you up without any thought of putting you down, legging your legs dangle as Elias slowly exits the room and corrals a highly confused Hesh with him.

The door shuts, but neither of you notices.

“Keegan—” Your voice is high with emotion, hardly believing what you're seeing—what you’re touching. “Oh, my God.”

He had been alive all this time? Ten whole years and you’d thought he was dead. But by the way he was barely letting you breathe from in his iron clutch, you imagined Keegan had thought the same about you. It was…incomprehensible.

“Shh,” he whispers, his shushes cracking and flinching between broken gasps of your name. “Shh.” He sets you down on the floor only to have his firm hands travel to your cheeks, turning your head to each side in a desperate need to understand if you were really there.

Keegan’s eyes are wet, but no tears let themselves fall quite yet.

“I’m so sorry!” You hiccup and the man kisses your cheeks—your browline and nose. Every piece of you he can as you both stay so intimate you might melt into one another. “I thought you were gone, I-I should have stayed and looked for you, I didn’t—”

“You’re alive?” Keegan’s hands rub across your body, gripping and tugging you closer and closer. “My Girl’s alive?”

His tears drip to your face as he hovers above you, and you both shake with the weight of years.

“Me?” Your chuckle through sobs—you want to scream and wail at the same time. Blue eyes flutter and ragged breaths puff on your forehead. “What about you, you asshole?”

Keegan shakes his head, and you stare deeply into him, hands coming up to cup his cheeks as he sags forward. He had stubble now, spreading out to grate your flesh.

The man forces a weak huff.

“Christ,” is all he mutters before he presses his lips to yours in a kiss so unyielding you expect to have your air stolen. Ten years to feel him kissing you again—to feel his warm flesh under your hands and his heart rampage into you.

You’d do it all over if it still amounted to this.

Your body shivers and you reciprocate with just as much fervor; this emotion of relief is so overwhelming and all-consuming that it makes your head light. You suck down quick breaths between the sensation of your lips meeting, Keegan doing the same.

Unconsciousness was better than letting him leave again, your lover sharing that sentiment as chests slid against one another. Soft hair slips through your fingers as you grip Keegan’s hair, cascading through locks as he groans into your lips and tries to hide his tears from you.

He pulls away and immensely shoves his head into your neck.

“You’re here,” he whispers quickly. A hand quivers at the back of your head as your tears wet his gear. “You’re right here. You came back to me, didn’t you, Doll?”

You cry, “I’m here, Keegan.” The man sobs when he hears you say his name, his knees giving out as you both fall to the floor and not letting the other move beyond the caress of skin and lips.

“I missed you,” Keegan gasps, “so much. Don’t you understand? I was nothing without you. You took it all from me, everything. Every damn thing.”

You press kisses to his neck and racing pulse, healing him inside and out without even realizing it; it was only fair, he was doing the same back to you.

The picture lays long forgotten on the floor.

“Never let me go,” your voice forces out, as he rocks you back and forth like a child. “Never again, Keegan. Please, I love you too much to go through that again.”

“Never,” he immediately promises, pulling back and kissing your lips again—neither can stop themselves from this. Blues eyes blink quickly, cataloging your face and every little blemish he’d have to relearn and study; to find the story behind. Keegan had never been happier. He felt like he might break from it. “Over my dead body, I’m never lettin’ you out of my sight. You’re stuck with me.”

You laugh genuinely for the first time in ten years and say you’d like nothing better as he pulls you back in and plants his mouth to yours in reverent worship. His arms trapping you to him as yours do just the same.

Not to leave again anytime soon.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @konigsleftkidney, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

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notyourmothersravioli · 2 years ago

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I hate being at my mom's house

#I love my sister but my mom is also there #I'm dissociating for the litteral first time since I moved out #I want to actually sob

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cap-winter-barnes · 2 months ago

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Is it possible to get a Tyler Owens x reader where they are chasing a storm and the truck's anchors fail to deploy causing the truck to get flipped in the aftermath of the storm and Tyler gets scared when he sees reader is possibly fataly injured after coming back to himself

"What the fuck?" Tyler's vision is blurred as he comes to, his head throbbing from the impact that the truck took from the storm. Instantly, his mind is on you, making sure you're okay.

The truck is on its side, windscreen cracked, rain pouring through the open window on his side. With hazy eyes, Tyler looks to his right to find you unconscious, blood trickling from your forehead, cuts and scrapes littering your face and neck.

"No, no, no." In a panic, Tyler rushes to undo his seatbelt, bringing his aching legs to support himself against the dash before rolling himself out of his seat. He tries his best not to land on you, the sound of broken glass crunching beneath his boots fills the inside of the truck, only just audible over the sound of the increasing rain overhead.

"Baby girl, don't do this to me." With gentle, shaking hands, Tyler brushes your damp hair away from your face, your eyelids fluttering as he does so. "Oh thank God!" Despite his heart still racing a mile a minute at the scare, you're at least alive. There are tears running down his cheeks as he thanks whatever being is out there for keeping you alive. Tyler tries his best to control his emotions, sobs beginning to build up in his chest. He's never been so terrified in his life, the thought of losing you too much for him to bear.

"Ty?" Your voice is hoarse as you start to come around. "Baby, what happened?" You try to reach for him but he keeps your hands lowered.

"Don't move darlin', alright? It was a bad chase." You go to speak again but he interrupts you. "I thought I lost you, Y/N." His tears start again as he can barely meet your eyes. "I ca- I can't lose you sweetheart. I can't." Your own eyes fill with tears at the man you love so dearly being so open.

"I'm right here baby, I'm not going anywhere."

#glen powell #twisters #requests are open #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owen twisters #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens twisters x reader #glen powell fanfic #glen powell imagines #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens twisters #twisters fanfic #twisters imagine

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starstruckmiraclekitty · 2 years ago

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141 and König crying in front of the reader for the first time? Can be angsty, can be sweet. Just how would that look like? Short lil blurbs would be MUCHOOO apriciated! ☺️

Hey! I can do this. I did a little mix of both. Hope this is what you were looking for😊🩷

141 + König Crying For The First Time In Front Of Reader

Warnings: crying, swearing, slightly angst, fluff

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Simon Ghost Riley-

You and Simon were taking a bath together, enjoying each other's company after a long week. You were facing him, legs planted firmly around his waist as you ran a bar of soap along his body.

Your eyes followed the bar as you began to observe the various scars that littered his torso. You'd seen them in passing, but your eyes never lingered on them like they were now.

Simon's breath hitched slightly as the feeling of the bar was soon replaced by your fingers, tracing over one of the larger scars that marred his skin.

Your fingers traced thoughtfully any scar within reach, and Simon watched how you admired each of them. Your bottom lip tucked in between your teeth as you traced a particularly large one.

"There is nothing ugly about you. You're so beautiful, Simon." You murmured, your eyes still transfixed on his scars, your fingers continuing to dance on his abdomen.

"You tryin' to memorize them?" He teased, his hands falling to rest on your arms gently.

"I want to know everything about you. Down to the last scar." You spoke, your eyes not lifting from his skin.

"They are the ugliest part of me."

Simon's world came crashing to a halt the moment those words left your mouth. Beautiful? You thought he was beautiful? Simon had been called a multitude of things, but beautiful? Never.

When you finally lifted your eyes back up to him, you were surprised to find a few stray tears rolling down Simon's cheeks.

"Simon? Are you alright?" You asked, your voice dripping with concern. You'd never, not once, throughout your entire relationship seen the man cry and it broke your heart. "I didn't mean to make you cry."

Simon said nothing, only pulled you into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to your hair. Before you, he'd never had anyone touch him like you were just now. The gentleness of not only your voice but of your touch had Simon's cold heart thawing rapidly. You made him feel unequivocally safe, safe from the years of torment that followed him, and loved beyond a shadow of doubt.

"You make me feel like I'm worth loving." His voice came barely above a whisper next to your ear as he continued to hold you.

"That's because you are, Simon. More than you'll ever know."

König-

König awoke with a start, his heart stammering out of his chest. He looked over to you, in hopes to find some solace, but it did little to ease his racing mind.

You awoke moments later to the sounds of slight sniffles and heavy breaths from next to you.

"Kö? Honey, are you okay?" You asked, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you sat up.

"You were…you were gone…and there was nothing I could do." He breathed out, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure. He was sitting upright, and his grip was iron tight on the sheets in front of him.

Panic attacks weren't an uncommon occurrence for König, but this seemed to be taking a heavier toll on him than normal.

"König, baby, what happened? Did you have a nightmare?" You asked as you gently cupped his cheek, turning it so he was facing you.

Your heart shattered as you took in his tear stained cheeks, something you'd never witnessed on him before. "Kö, talk to me."

"It felt so real, Maus. You were..you were dead. Right in front of me. And I couldn't save you." His body racked slightly with silent sobs as he threw his head into his hands. "They killed you. You were dead."

"Honey, I'm right here. Come here." You spoke, pulling your large husband into your arms. He laid his head against your chest, and you began to thread your feelings through his light brown locks, soothing him gently. "I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here."

You could feel Königs breathing begin to go back to normal, but he continued to cling into you as if you'd dissapear if he let go.

"Don't ever leave me, Maus." He spoke, his voice shaking slightly. "I can't live without you."

"I'm not going anywhere, Kö. I'm yours." You continued to massage his head soothingly before feeling his chest rise and fall deeply, signaling he fell asleep.

He awoke the next morning to find that he was still tucked into your chest, your arms still firmly wrapped around him. He decided it wouldn't be such a bad idea to sleep in, just a little longer.

Kyle Gaz Garrick-

"You don't have to go on this mission, Kyle. Even John said that it's optional. Our anniversary is next week. Does that mean nothing to you?" You felt tears beginning to form in the corner of your eyes as you watched your husband pace the kitchen.

"Y/N, you're not listening to me. It's not like I have a choice. It will make me look bad if I say no." Kyle exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration.

"We always have choices, Kyle." Your voice was eerily calm, and it scared the shit out of him. "It's obvious I'm not yours."

"Babe, please don't make this out to be something it is not. You always do this. My job is important to me."

"And I'm not?" You asked, your voice shaking. "I..I can't do this anymore."

"What?" His heart dropped into his stomach at your words as he made his way toward you. "Don't say that."

"I'm going to go out for a bit. Clear my head." You gently pushed him away as you made to grab your car keys.

"Y/N, wait we need to talk about this." He rushed toward you, grabbing your wrist gently. "Please."

"There's nothing to say that hasn't been already said. I just need some air." You pulled your wrist away from him, and left the house.

You came home a few hours later, after some much needed alone time to parse through your thoughts.

"Kyle?" You asked, walking through the front door. "I'm home."

You made your way into the living room and found Kyle on the couch, his face stained red with tear marks.

"I…I thought you left me." He spoke, aggressively wiping away at the remaining tears. "I didn't know if you'd come back."

"Oh Kyle, I wouldn't have left you, not like that." You said, sitting next to him on the couch. "I just needed some air before I said something I'd regret. I just don't want to fight anymore."

"I don't, either. And I really, really don't want to lose you Y/N. I can not imagine my life without you." He grabbed your hands gently, holding them in his as he spoke. "I'll call of the mission. I was so wrapped up in impressing Price I didn't give a second thought to our anniversary, I'm so sorry."

"I know your job is important, but sometimes it feels like it's all that matters to you." You said, your eyes flickering down to your joined hands.

"That's not true at all, and I'm so sorry you feel that way. I'm going to do everything in my power to prove otherwise. I love you so much."

You gave him a warm smile before engulfing him in a tight embrace. "I love you too, Kyle."

John Price-

John's heart was leaping out of his chest. He'd just gotten a call from Simon while he was driving home after a mission, letting him know the base had received a ransom letter, saying that they had you in their custody.

John had never driven so fast in his life, his hands white knuckling the steering wheel as he drove well over the speed limit to get to your shared home.

"Y/N?" John called out, barging through the front door. His heart dropped when he heard no immediate answer. "Y/N, where are you?!"

He sprinted across the entire home, frantically looking for you, to no avail. He felt tears begin to pool at his eyes as he dropped to his knees on the floor. He'd never be able to live with himself if you'd gotten hurt because of him. You were his everything.

It was a few moments later when he heard the front door opening, and the sound of rustling bags.

"John! Baby, I didn't know you were coming home early. I would've been here!" You called out, walking through the front door, your hands filled with grocery bags. "I was just out doing some grocery shopping."

John felt the immense weight on his shoulders immediately vanish upon hearing your sweet voice and quickly turned to validate that you were, in fact, here, right in front of him.

"Sweetheart?" You saw a few tears fall down his cheeks as he huffed out a deep breath in an attempt to compose himself.

Your heart shattered as your eyes fell on his face. You'd never seen him cry before and didn't know what to do as tears continued to pour down his cheeks. "John, honey, are you okay?"

He stood and ran toward you, wrapping you in the tightest hug he could, his mind still not comprehending that you were there, that you were safe. "I thought they had you."

"Who? I'm safe, John. I'm here." You spoke, wrapping your arms around your fiancees' shoulders. "I'm okay."

"I was told that a group of mercenaries took you for ransom. I thought you were gone." John stood like that for some time, his firm grip not easing up in the slightest. "I'd do anything for you, you know what right?"

"I know. And I would do anything for you." You said, pulling away slightly to wipe at his wet cheeks.

"Let's go away this weekend. You and me." He set you down, watching your brows furrow at his words.

"John, I'm okay, we don't have-"

"I want to. I want to get away from the world, from this place. Just be you and I. Let me have that. Let me at least have a few days where I know you're safe." He pressed a kiss to your temple before smiling down at you. "Please."

"A weekend away with you doesn't sound so bad." You giggled, laying your head back down onto his chest.

"Damn right, it doesn't."

Johnny Soap MacTavish-

"Quit jittering MacTavish, you're even making me nervous." Simon teased, shoving the groom playfully.

"Away an bile yer heid. What if they changed their mind?" Johnny couldn't control the anxiety he was having. He'd heard of wedding day jitters, but swore he wouldn't have them. How wrong he was.

"They love you, Johnny. I know they'll be here." Simon patted his shoulder reassuringly. "Don't know what git in their right mind would marry you, but what do I know."

Johnny's retort died in his throat as the music began, signaling your arrival. He clasped his shaking hands together in front of him, his eyes making their way to the aisle.

Johnny felt his breath hitch in his throat as you made your appearance, you looking as beautiful and radiant as ever, making your way down the aisle toward him.

Unable to control his array of emotions, he felt tears begin to pool in his eyes as he kept his eyes locked on you. You'd never looked more beautiful than you had in that moment, and the fact that you were about to commit yourself to him and him alone for the rest of your life had Johnny nearly in a fit of tears.

Your smile was lighting up the entire room, and he was unable to keep his eyes off of you. The whole moment felt surreal to him, and he couldn't possibly think of a moment where he'd been happier than he was right now. The tears continued to stream down his face as you made your way down the final bit of the aisle to him.

When you finally made your way to him, the person who walked you down the aisle gave your hand to Johnny, and he swore he felt his heart stop beating at the way you looked at him.

Johnny had been through hell and back in his life, and the one constant beacon of hope, of light, was you. He'd never made any better decision, than the one he made to marry you.

"You look so beautiful, sweeheart." He cooed, a few final stray tears running down his cheeks. "I can't believe we are getting married."

"No cold feet?" You teased, your smile still melting his heart.

"Never."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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binniesbooks · 2 months ago

Note

Ok if u insist.. i'll request gyu since he's the only one i havent requested. So was thinking of something like switch!gyu x switch!reader

Scenario is like, reader is used to beomgyu being a subby brat in bed and shes very dom smthn like that and then one night, gyu snapped bc she was teasing him so much he got annoyed and released his inner dom-ness . Eventually gyu became a mean dom and reader is a subby bitch now😋

Idk if this made sense but this was stuck in my mind for a long time 🙂‍↔️ i hope it made sense... prob not the best but i just needed to let my thoughts out:D

• THE OTHER SIDE

BG 001 .F23 2024

wc 2.4k

pairings boyfriend!Beomgyu x bratgirlfriend!reader

warnings switch Beomgyu, switch reader, spit kink, overstimulation, self relieving, choking, marking, scratching, oral sex (m. receiving), unprotected sex (+ anything else I've missed)

faye's note I'm at uni editing this, anxious about people who are talking just beside me. Risky job fr. Lmao. Nevertheless, i love sub Gyu! 🙂‍↕️ For fuck's sake.

"Y/n--" Beomgyu's shaky breath made your stomach flutter.

"Please... G-give me a sec-- ohh fuck!" He threw his head back on the wall, his hands trying to push you away as you took him deeper into your mouth.

His toes curled as he bit his lower lip, draping his arm over his eyes, cum finally spurting inside your pretty mouth.

"Princess... N-no more..." he whimpered.

His whole body shuddered at the sight of you and your cum-stained lips.

"You tasted so sweet, Gyu," you giggled, crawling towards him. He then pulled you closer by your waist, letting you lay down above him. Just when he was about to relax and close his eyes, you started grinding above him. His grip on yours tightened as he started sobbing on your neck.

"H-hurts... Hurts..." he whined, which you only answered with a giggle. "You can do it, pup. You're my desperate little puppy, aren't you?" you cooed.

Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as he let you sit above him with your arms seeking support from his thighs, the skin blooming with purple marks. You scooted back for a bit, his dick fully erect just in front of your clothed cunt, despite the fact that he’d already came three times. He's overstimulated at this point, yet his body still seemed to like it.

You then rose to your knees to tease your cunt against his tip, and Beomgyu tried to buck his hips up. The tiny piece of cloth served as a barrier, and it made him whine and whimper even more.

You stopped and stared at him for a little while, smiling as you realized he was covered with your markings. His neck was littered with hickeys, especially on the parts that are hard to cover. His shoulders were covered with your teeth marks, and his chest was marked with your scratches. His hips and thighs glistening with his cum mixed with your spit and hickeys all over. Your gaze flitted to his face, only to see him crying, nose red, and his lips swollen and on the verge of bleeding.

"If you see yourself from my perspective, you'll see how desperate and filthy you are, Gyu," you degraded.

A mocking scoff bursts out from your mouth when his cock twitched. His eyes widened at your degrading words.

You shook your head, and a wide grin was etched on your face. "Puppy, d'you wanna cum again?" you teased, swiping a finger on his leaking cock.

"W-wanna cum again, princess, please, please, please," he pleaded, almost drooling. "W-wanna see your p-pretty fingers 'round my cock, please," he added.

You wrapped your hands around his throbbing cock, and the sounds he made were purely pornographic. He continuously squirmed as you dragged your fingers slowly. Oh, how beautiful Beomgyu was when you got him wrapped around your fingers. You love how pliant he is at times like this, how he fully submits himself to you even when he was bound to break.

"Hyung!" A shout outside caused the both of you to turn your heads towards the door.

"Beomgyu hyung! Noona! Are you home?"

The voice was followed by some clicking of keys being placed down on the platter and some crunching of plastic bags.

"P-princess, n-no... I-i'm close..."

"Choi Beomgyu," you scoffed. "Are you for real?"

He bit his lower lip, embarrassed at how he was practically begging you to at least let him finish. His breath was growing uneven as seconds passed by, the way he bucked his hips up shows how desperate he was.

"Noona? Hyung? Are you in there?" A knock on your door made you get off Beomgyu immediately, giving his cock a slight slap in the process. Beomgyu whimpered, his head tipping off over the pillow. Cockblocked.

"Kai, what is it? Sorry, I was doing something." You opened the door to welcome the younger male. He roamed his eyes around the room, scattered files and a running computer were on the desk. Beomgyu was lying on the bed on his side, the blanket covering his body up to his neck, totally tucked in bed.

Kai scratched his head. "Too bad, I wanted to invite Beomgyu hyung to play," he pouted.

"Oh yea, he was sleeping, he said he's not feeling well," you answered as you pushed your glasses, making him believe that you are really "busy."

"Is that so?" He sighed. "I'll be in the living room, noona . If you need help, just call me." You nodded at the young male before closing the door, finally turning to Beomgyu, whom you saw squirming while you were talking to Kai.

When you stopped beside the bed, you saw how he tried to control his body spasming.

"Fucking desperate puppy," you whispered.

You pulled the blanket off of him, finally recognizing a wet patch on the bed sheet, and Beomgyu's twitching body under the blanket.

"Dirty puppy."

"I-i'm not..." he muttered.

"You just came." You retorted, swiping your finger on the sticky wet patch on the bed. "See? Such a dirty puppy, touching himself even when Kai is around," you scoffed.

He draped his arms above his eyes, his chest harshly rising up and down. You grabbed his face and forced him to look at you. "Won't take care of you again, puppy. Such a bad pup, tsk tsk."

You went out to the living room and left Beomgyu inside as he grunted in frustration. You then decided to play with Kai instead.

"Gyu! Kai! I'm home!" you announced, after coming back from work the next day, carefully placing your shoes on the shoe rack.

"Noona!" Kai shouted from the living room; however, his gaze was fixated on the TV as he frantically clicked on the game console.

You went straight to the kitchen to get yourself a cup of water, and Beomgyu was there, cooking something.

"Hi love, how's your day?" you asked before opening the fridge.

"Hmm? It's good, how 'bout yours?"

You went closer to him to give him a hug. Beomgyu placed a gentle kiss on your forehead. It was all sweet and cute, not until your naughty little mind decided to play games and tease Beomgyu. Your hands creep lower from his waist to his crotch, trying to palm him through his sweats. Taking a glance at Kai, who seemed too immersed in what was going on in the game, you rubbed him harder.

"Princess, your hand."

You were quite shocked that he wasn't that responsive like before. With just one touch, you usually had him crumbling below you already. However, this time, his words were firm as he stirred what was boiling in the pot.

"Hm? What did you say, puppy?" you giggled, trying to dominate him again.

"I said, your hand. " Beomgyu finally turned his body to you, throwing a glance at Kai before looking down at you. You're lying if you would say you weren't intimidated by his gaze. It was different, totally different from how he used to look at you with big puppy eyes whenever you had your hands against his body.

You thought he wasn't just in the mood, so you decided to stop teasing him. However, he called Kai's attention.

"What is it, hyung?"

"Do you want the food to be spi--" His words were cut off when he felt your hand on his thigh, his head snapping towards you.

"To be?" Kai questioned.

"To be spicy," Beomgyu finished. Your grip on his thigh tightened, confident that Kai wouldn't see anything anyway because your lower half was hidden behind the kitchen island.

"Bedroom."

"Beomgyu--"

"Bedroom. Now," he firmly commanded.

"Kai, if you get hungry, you can eat first. We just need to call her parents. We'll be in the room. And... It might take a while."

Kai nodded, although he was confused. Confused why Beomgyu's face was dark and how you were biting your lower lip without saying a single word as you entered the bedroom.

When Beomgyu entered the room, you were silently sitting on the edge of the bed. You hate to admit it, but something in Beomgyu just felt off. He closed the door behind the two of you before going straight in front of you.

"What was that?" he asked, putting both of his hands inside his pockets.

"D-did I do something w-wrong?" Your voice cracked a little.

Beomgyu placed his hands on the bed as he leaned down, causing you to scoot back.

"Princess, I'm so fucking done being controlled by you. Let me control you this time. Let's see how much you can endure," Beomgyu scoffs, a grin growing on his face before he pushed you down on the bed, straddling you.

"W-wait---"

Beomgyu shook his head as he wrapped his fingers around your neck, slightly squeezing it. "Open your mouth," he demanded.

He sighed happily, and the grin in his mouth grew wider. Beomgyu licked his lower lip before letting a glob of his spit trickle down your throat. "Swallow."

You felt your cunt throb as you swallowed his spit. You don't know why, but it did turn you on, whatever Beomgyu was doing.

"Gyu," you whispered, trying to avoid his gaze.

"Hm?" he answered shortly. His hands made their way to your breast, gently massaging them as his thumb circled your nipples.

"Look at you, you're drooling," he remarked, smirking.

You placed both your hands over your face, trying to hide away from him. Although your cunt says otherwise as you rubbed your thighs together. "No, no, no princess, show me your face."

"D-don't wanna..."

Your breath hitched and your back arched when he pinched your nipples, "You still don't?" he taunted.

"P-puppy--"

"That's not my name, call me daddy ." But it seemed like he wasn't too particular in calling him daddy as he still let's you call his name.

Your cheeks and the tip of your ear turned red after hearing that word. Then you realized, Beomgyu was really done being submissive, and he is actually dominating you right now.

His hand reached back, unzipping your trousers, slipping his hand inside.

"Who did you call dirty again?"

"N-no one," you defended.

"Really? Look at this." Beomgyu withdrew his hand, showing you his finger, almost covered with your sticky arousal. "I haven't even dipped my fingers inside yet, but you're already this wet? Why? Because I spit in your mouth? You dirty girl," he mocked.

Beomgyu shook his head and clicked his tongue, "Look at your nipples poking through your bra and shirt, just because I’m degrading you."

"Gyu, please," you whimpered.

"Please what? Please this?" He then proceeded to dip his finger inside you.

"F-fuck need m-more please," you pleaded, eyes welling up tears.

Your back arched once again as he added another finger, curling them inside your gummy walls.

"G-gyu, n-not enough... Need you to f-fuck me," you cried, clutching on his sweats. "Need this i-inside me," you added, placing your hand on his hard on.

"Needy girl," he commented, slipping his cock out of his sweats and pumping it in front of you.

"You want my cock? Yes?" he cooed, nodding along with you.

"Y-yes daddy, please," you begged.

Beomgyu's face darkened, probably liking the way you called him daddy with your whiny voice. He pulled your body up and slipped you out of your trousers.

"We won't play games right now, princess," he whispered, swiping a finger on your slit, making you shudder.

"Let's make this quick and not let Kai be suspicious," he said as he teased his tip against your glistening cunt.

"B-beomgyu, please, please, please, please," you chanted, bucking your hips up to meet his tip. However, he wasn't the one to give in yet, as he only continued to tease you with his tip, a string of your arousal connecting your cunt and his swelling cock.

"If you beg better, maybe I'd give this to you---"

"Gyu please, I'll be good, daddy, please. I'll let you fuck me wherever and whenever you want. Please need you, I need you right now, I need your big fat cock," you blabbered, tears rolling down your cheeks as you gripped tightly on the sheets.

"You're so fucking hot right now, begging for my cock, begging me to fuck you dumb," he muttered.

"I need your cum so bad, daddy, please. Fuck me and cum inside me, make me your dirty little slut, please." Beomgyu wasn't even sure if you were aware of the things you were saying, but he gave in anyway, slowly pushing his length inside you.

"Fuck, still tight as fuck," he whispered, pinning your hands above your head.

"Gyu, please, mpphh!" Whimpers and whines were the only things that came out of your mouth as he slowly dragged his cock inside.

"Needy. You're so needy," he grunted, obviously struggling to move as you clenched tightly around him. Your low little loud noises bounced inside the four walls of the bedroom. Beomgyu let out breathy moans and shaky breaths, you clenching tightly around him along with your whimpering and whining mainly the cause of it.

Until there was a knock on the door.

"Uhm, hyung?" Beomgyu quickly covered your mouth but was still thrusting inside you, making you feel overwhelmed. The thought of being caught made your pussy flutter, causing you to clench tighter. "I just... Wanna let you guys know that... I-i'll be heading out. I'll be back l-later," Kai said, informing the two of you.

"S-so close," you breathed, body intensely shaking from being exhausted all day and receiving something tiring and unexpected.

"Wait for m-me princess, need to cum with y-you," he moaned, feeling his nearing high.

"Inside, please." You forcefully pulled your wrist from his hand above your head as you pulled Beomgyu closer, hugging him tight.

"G-gyu, shit, shit please!"

"Fuck!"

Both the knots on your stomach snapped simultaneously, allowing your cum to mix together and making both of your bodies shudder out of pure pleasure.

Beomgyu slowly pulled out, letting your mixed cum dribble out of your spent pussy. Beomgyu pulled you in for a hug as you whimper on his neck and your body twitched under his touch.

The curtain on the window danced as the wind blew. A few more minutes, the wind blew harder, and your door suddenly swung open. Shit! It wasn't locked at all!

And it occurred, maybe Kai left because of what he had heard.

@binniesbooks 2024

#faye's library #beomgyu's books #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu x you #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu imagines #txt smut #txt imagines #txt scenarios #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts

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mooooonnnzz · 3 months ago

Note

hi!!! I fell in love with your content and I wanted to make a little request, since it was on my mind for a while...

It's kinda cringe but I saw your hc's/fic about Stan's and Ford's reaction to their daughter having a partner, but what would they say about the break-up??? how would they react?? 💔💔

I'm Glad There Is You

Stan + Ford HC's of you getting broken up with!

ʚ♡ɞ 4,2k words

ʚ♡ɞ we're so back

ʚ♡ɞ i've been cooking this up for the past few days mwehehe

ʚ♡ɞ i won't be publishing fics as frequently! but its better cuz i wont be pushing out poopy fics. i can actually take my time with them and make em better :3

ʚ♡ɞ that's all enjoy! request are still open too :p

🎱 Stan

𝄞 Stan hadn’t suspected a thing when he saw you rush into your room after being out all day. You occasionally do that when you were exhausted and had no more battery left in you to uphold another conversation. But, when he saw you all disheveled in appearance. Not bothering to glance at him, let alone tell him about your day, he knew something was up. Springing your wellbeing in the conversation was tricky. He knows that if he straight up asked if you’re okay, you’d burst out into tears and cry out incoherent words that sounded like mushed up sobs into his ear. So how could he ease you into talking about yourself without having you break down? For the remainder of the day, he was tackling himself with ways he could ask about how you’re doing, stemming from slapping a sticky note on your forehead to passing a note under your door. But none of them seemed effective. His brain was splitting into two. He couldn’t decide and the day was coming to a close. The orange overhang of the sun shone into the shack and Stan was contemplating on asking your partner why you were sad because if he didn’t know what was going on, your partner had an idea or the full picture. He decided against it though. Maybe this was something you’d rather keep to yourself?

𝄞 The stress was so bad he had to go outside for a quick smoke. Seeing you in an emotional state of disarray sends him into one as well. He plucked a cigarette from his pack and pinched it in between his lips. Craning his head up a bit to light up the cigarette, he shielded the orange flame sparkling to life from the wind with his cupped hand. He blew a stream of smoke into the evening air, his electrifying nerves nulling into a soft calming buzz. He knew smoking was bad for him, but he couldn’t stray away from it in times like these. The door to the front porch painfully creaked open. Looking over his shoulder, he softly smiled upon seeing you. “Pumpkin,” He pats the side right next to him. You take the seat and inhale the crisp air—well, from what you can get with all the cigarette smoke littering the air. “Second hand smoking is way worse than first hand.” You mention, delicate amusement trailing in your words as you take a seat beside him.

𝄞 “You’re the one who walked out here knowing I was smoking.” He replied with a flick of his hand. Another trail of smoke escapes his mouth as he exhales, his body visibly relaxing into the familiar routine. “I should get a cigarette too.” You stretched out your arms, cracking a small smile. “Heh,” Stan flicked the cigarette, small shreds of ashes trickling down from the burning end of the stick. “You think you’re funny.” You nod intensely. “I think I’m very funny.” You look off into the horizon, eyes carrying such a thick somber look to them Stan had to finally ask the question he had been beating around the bush for who knows how long. “You okay, kiddo?”

𝄞 Your eyes glisten over with tears, bottom lip trembling as you hold back the words you’ve been dreading to say to your dad the minute news broke out to you. “Oh, [Name].” Stan burnt out his cigarette, his arm wrapping around your shoulders and bringing you closer to him. The pure affection coming from Stan made you pour out more tears, trembling sobs wracking your body as you mournfully cried onto his shoulder. “Let it out, sweetpea.” His hand comfortingly patted your back. This wasn’t how he wanted this to go, but maybe you needed a quick cry to comfortably tell him what happened. His stomach churned as the suspicion of the reason why you were crying into his shoulder rose. He had a feeling on why you were acting like that, but he had hoped he was wrong.

𝄞 He wasn’t wrong. He was right, unfortunately for him. After recollecting yourself to the best of your ability, Stan had discovered that your partner had broken up with you earlier today for reasons that they had not specified. Frustration bubbled up inside Stan and it took every bone in his body to not slam his fists on your ex’s door, gun in hand to shoot them down for breaking your heart. Instead, he opted to swallow down his anger and tend to you. You needed him to be right by your side and he wasn’t going to suddenly up and leave to shoot down a person. He’d wind up in jail and then you would have to deal with the loss of your partner and your dad. The thought sent chills down his spine. You peeled yourself off his shoulder, leaving a slobbering teary eyed stain on suit. “I’m sorry.” You mutter, eyes red and burning from the force of squeezing them closed. “It’s okay, sweetpea. You don’t need to apologize for things like this, you know that right?” His thumb swipes a stray tear off your cheek. “I know,” You hiccup. Stan seeing you like this infront of him shredded his heart into tiny little pieces. Who could hurt you like this? How could someone protect his child’s heart and break it the next day? Your partner even promised that they’d never pull a stunt like this, and yet here you are, bleary eyed and sniffily.

𝄞 Your face pinched with a forever sorrowful look and for a second he thinks that he’s never going to have you back, he’s never going to see your smile ever again and that alone terrifies him. There has to be something that can cheer you up, right? You’re not forever stuck in this pool of sadness? This is something someone can get over right? All prior knowledge to his personal relationship flies off his head and out the window. He removes himself from his thoughts and grounds him in the moment. What is something that’ll cheer you up? An idea sprouted in his mind. “Want to watch a movie with your old man?” He doesn’t know how you’d respond to his offer and it slightly scares him. He’s never been able to fully predict your every move, but he has made some sense of them later on, but he’s never seen you in this state before and he doesn’t know what to expect. “I’d like that.” You meekly nod your head and Stan has to contain himself from lurching up into the air and cheering out in happiness. Rather, he clears his throat and broadly smiles at you. “I’m gonna take a real quick shower. Pick out a movie you wanna watch and I’ll be back in no time.”

𝄞 The rest of the night was spent snuggled up in the sofa, a blanket of yours of when you were a kid was draped over you and Stan. It barely gave you any coverage but you claimed that it did when Stan would mention it. Stan didn’t want to disagree with you and besides, the blanket reminded him of when you were a little kid, carefree and giddy with little to no knowledge of idiotic people who’d carelessly shatter your heart and leave you without any consolation. The movie that was playing was and still is an all time favorite of yours. You and Stan had memorized the lines that have been forever sewn into your brain from how many times you forced Stan to watch it when you were little. Guess some things don’t change. The days following are full of extensive care and love, enough that would be overbearing to anyone that wasn’t you–at least sometimes.

𝄞 Fishing outings were a must. Stan would rapidly knock on your door, standing on the other side decked head to toe in his fishing outfit. Your fishing hat in hand. You couldn’t say no to him when he’s looking at you with such a sad look in his eyes and dressed up, putting on your worn fishing hat that has seen better days. Stan proudly smiled at you, wiping off a tear from the corner of his eye. “Why are you crying, Dad?” You chuffed nervously. “My eyes are sweating!” He covered his eyes with his forearm, violently sobbing as he walked away to get the fishing gear. In his defense, he hasn’t gone fishing with you in a good long while and seeing you wearing your fishing outfit really triggered the water works in his eye. The past week has been an emotional wreck for you and him, who could blame him? You had forgotten how much fun fishing was. A laugh rattles through your throat as you reel back your fishing rod. This must be your third attempt in catching a fish, and Stan’s enthusiastic commentary struck a funny cord within you. With a few more tugs and reeling back, you caught the fish. “Awesome catch!” He patted your back with so much force, you jolted forward, making the boat lean to the side, causing you to lose your footing and drop the fish in the water. When you were about to revel in your loss, you heard a large splash and large droplets of water sprinkling over you. You turned your attention over to where the splash was heard and to your luck, Stan bobbed his head out of the water, gasping dramatically as his arms flailed around. “Dad!” You laugh.

𝄞 “The water isn’t even that deep.” Talking was a task to do with how hard you were laughing. “Oh.” He stopped thrashing around and allowed him to sink to the bottom of the lake floor. And to his surprise, the water barely even passed his upper chest. That realization made you hunch over in laughter. “Oh, stop laughing!” He grabbed onto the edge of the boat and tried pulling himself up, but the sudden shift in weight made the boat tip over, sending you and all the other belongings in the boat into the freezing water. “[Name]!” He looked to where you were under the water, ready to dive in and grab you from below when you sprung out of the water. You stared at him, cheeks puffed as you struggled to hold back your laughter. “Oh, whatever.” His initial panic was washed off with playful annoyance. “Go ahead, laugh at your old man.” He rolls his eyes upon hearing your boisterous laughter echo in the air. “That was insane!” You wrap your arms around Stan’s neck, hoisting yourself up so you don’t drown while laughing. “Yeah, go ahead. Laugh at this poor old man who’s clearly struggling.”

𝄞 Singing your favorite songs in your karaoke machine was his favorite way to catch you off guard. He’d notice you reminiscing on the past and he’d make a beeline to your machine, slamming the buttons that would turn it on and play a song that you like. His gruff scratchy singing voice always pulled you out of your mind and into the present moment. Walking into the living room where he relocated your karaoke machine for times like these, you couldn’t help but laugh as he passionately sang into the microphone. “Disco girl, coming through! That girl is you!” He points the microphone at you, motioning you over to join him. It takes some convincing but when you do, you and him are blissfully singing your hearts out into the microphone.

𝄞 Seeing your partner around town was an immediate mood kill for Stan. Unaware and in a chipper mood, he found himself in the grocery store. Stacking up on food and snacks to fill your stomach and his. When strolling into the available cash register, his smile curls into a grimace when he sees who was behind the counter. “You,” he spat out. “Ah, Mr. Pines!” They nervously chuckled. “Good to see you. How’s it been?” They can’t make eye contact. The lazer like glare Stan was giving them was enough to know that things haven’t been good. Grabbing an item from the shopping cart, he hovered it over the conveyor belt, mulling over his thoughts. He could not pay for this and run out of the store or he could unscrew the carton of milk and squirt it all over your ex. Or maybe, he could do both? With speed no one could comprehend, he undid the lid and spilled the milk all over them, chucking the empty carton right on their head for extra measure. He then grabbed the cart and bolted out of the grocery store, leaving everyone in the store stunned. “Is anyone going to arrest him or?” A random passerby asked, watching how your ex just stood there, completely befuddled with milk dripping down their body.

𝄞 “Dad? Why is the news saying that you assaulted a worker in the grocery store with milk?” Stan scoffed. “Don’t believe everything you see on the news, sweetie.” He takes a good sip of his pitt cola. “But it shows camera footage of you doing it.” You gesture to the video that was playing. “Fake news. You know how technology is advancing. They can make anything these days.” He grabs the remote and switches channels. “There! Now, we don’t have to see that.” You smile, elbowing him. “It was cool that you did that.” You mutter. He chuckles. “The kid deserved that.”

𝄞 Drives around the town and wreaking havoc in rival attraction traps were a good stress reliever and anger outlet. You were swinging with all your might, your axe that was in hand was splintering through the large wooden statue. “Keep going!” Stan was serving as a lookout, his eyes switching through the front door and to you. Sweat rolled down your temples as you delivered one last final blow to the statue. The statue slowly tipped forward. “Let’s go.” Stan urgently whispered, running back to the family van with you in tow. Stan started the van and sped out of the parking lot and into the driveway. “God dammit, Stanley Pines!” The person emerged from his house, shaking his fist in the air. You clapped your hands together, laughing. “That was a fun one.” You noted, swiping the sweat off your forehead with your shirt. “Who’s next?” You ask eagerly. “Check on the map. You decided where we will go next.” This was the first time you fully smiled at him with your signature laugh following after. No remnants of sadness stuck to you. He knew right then and there that he got you back.

📖 Ford

𝄞 Ford was peacefully slumbering on the couch when the front door was slammed shut, scaring him awake. He jolted forward, the book that was covering his face fell flat on his lap, startling him. “[Name]?” He closes the book in his lap and pushes it aside. You didn’t respond and he was quickly resorting to the idea that it wasn’t you. Creeping towards your room, his knuckles knock on the door. “Sweetie?” He puts his hand on the knob and very slowly turns it. “I’m coming in.” He announces. Opening the door, his eyes land on your back. Quiet sniffles and hiccups could be heard coming from you and Ford’s heart clenched in his chest. He never liked hearing you cry. “[Name]?” He settles himself down on your bed. He couldn’t get to see your face properly since you were curled inwards with your blanket slightly obstructing your face, but he could see your body quiver as you suppressed your sobs. Ford sucked his bottom lip into his teeth. Equally as clueless as his brother, he doesn’t know how to approach this. He hadn’t had the slightest idea of why you’re crying and that truly bugs him.

𝄞 His hand rests on your hip, fingers tapping in a soothing rhythm. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” He’s chewing on his lip, anxiety running its full race through his body, relentless and awfully energetic. He’s sure by the end of this, he wasn’t going to have a bottom lip from how much he was nibbling on it. You shuffle further into your blanket in response. “You don’t wanna talk about it?” He croaks out. He never liked when you pushed him away in your most vulnerable moments. He knows you mean well but he detests being in the unknown. You let out a small hum. He had learned over the years that two hums were yes and one was no. It was a very asbured way to communicate but it did come in handy when you weren’t in the mood to talk. This was a way of telling him that you weren’t in the mood prevented Ford from asking an assault wave of questions.

𝄞 “Do you want me to stay here with you?” Two hums. Patting your waist, he shuffles to the other side of your bed and plops down right next to you, mindlessly staring off into the ceiling. His anxiety was still pounding through his body, his clammy hands and beating heart proved that but it quelled a little of it knowing that you wanted him beside you. That you found comfort in his presence. He’d hope you did, he didn’t raise you all these years just for you to hate him. Wait, you don’t hate him, right? You could never hate him. He’s your dad! Can kids hate their own parents? He hated his dad so that can be a generational—

𝄞 “I think hear your overthinking from here, Dad.” Your voice comes out muffled from speaking through the blanket covering your face. He blinks, swallowing his doubt and looking over to your blanket covered face. “Sorry,” he lets out a dry laugh, scratching his cheek. “It wasn’t my intention to annoy you.” You pull the blanket down to the bridge of your nose, allowing Ford to see your irritated swollen eyes. “You’re not annoying me, Dad. You being anxious makes me anxious.” Ford cracked a smile. “Like father, like child.” That managed to pull a smile from you. “Unfortunately, I grow to be more like you everyday.” You say with a roll of your eyes. An overdramatic offended gasp leaves Ford. “And that’s a bad thing, how?”

𝄞 Playful banter was tossed between the two of you, each quick remark and quip allowed you to pick yourself up from the hole you were cowering in. After a while, you mustered up everything you had and told him about the break-up. Ford really couldn’t believe it at first. You had to repeat it to him twice much to your dismay but once he caught what you said, his face fell. “They were a waste of time anyways.” He said with a flick of his wrist. “Dad!” You weren’t expecting him to come off so strongly over hearing the news. “It’s true. They couldn’t even take my work seriously! How could someone laugh at my face when I tell them that aliens are real? Someone is clearly stuck in the stone ages.”

𝄞 He was riding on the mindset of you need to forget this person and move on. Wallowing over losing them wasn’t ideal and you need to distract yourself with other things to prevent yourself from dwelling back on the thought of them. He was done with your ex, so should you. But he was real quick to find out that you weren't exactly like him in that aspect. He’d find you resting on the couch, eyes mindlessly staring at the TV as you’re cuddled up with blankets upon blankets. Tear marks were stained on your cheeks. Maybe you couldn’t distract yourself? Maybe he should be the one that distracts you? He’d scribble drawings of you and him on a piece of paper and fold it up into a cute little airplane and toss it over to you. You would unwrap the little gift with a smile, tears clouding your eyes. “Aw, Dad...” You held the piece of paper to your chest.

𝄞 Your favorite dinner would be cooked almost everyday, and if you have more than one, you bet he’d be coking it up in the kitchen, offering different favorite meals every night. Anything that would bring the smile on your face back. Adventures out into the woods, just like old times, was a thing he’d bring you along with. Even when you did protest and groan, whining how you would rather cry into your pillow, Ford stood his ground and made sure that you got ready for the adventure he had meticulously planned. The minute you step into the familiar lush woods, a sense of calmness falls over you and suddenly you’re a kid skipping around in the woods, in search of anything to show Ford so he could write about the new discovery in his book. Finding old discoveries lightened a smile on your face and unknowingly to you, Ford would draw you in his book like how he did when you were younger. Old habits die hard.

𝄞 A lot of nights were spent you talking your feelings out to Ford. He was a good listener and had a few quips of advice to lend over, since he’s been in a similar but not so similar predicament. But he was more intent on listening to your concerns and anxieties. “I can’t believe I let them do that!” You plop your back down on your bed, anger spilling out of you in sharp words. He shook his head, a very sassy “mhm,” leaves him. “They didn’t deserve you anyways.” He moved his finger side to side. “Why are you acting like that?” You laugh, gingerly pushing him. “Don’t your friends act like that when something happens?” You beam from ear to ear, a loud laugh escaping you. “No! Where did you even get that from?” Ford shrugs. “I don’t know. I just thought they did?” He pretended to act clueless and with a big smile of his own, he watched you curl up in laughter over his ridiculous act. He could only think of how much he missed your smile and beautiful laugh.

𝄞 Seeing your ex at the mall was a surprise both for him and them. Ford was scanning the shelves in search of something to get you when they approached them. “Sir, do you need any he…” Their words die in their throat when they register who they’re talking to. Ford hasn’t made the correlation yet, his attention so wrapped up in finding you the perfect gift. “Do you need any help?” They repeat, their voice cracking. Ford lazily looks over to them, dismissing them before looking back. Then, a look of recognition washes over him and he whips his head over to them. “You!” He loudly yelled. Customers in the store glance over to them. “Mr. Pines, keep it down.” They stressed out, teeth gritted together. “I will–.” An idea came to mind. “I’m sorry.” He rolled his shoulders back, untensing them. They look to the side, uncomfortable with the sudden change. “You’re sorry?” They repeat in disbelief. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be on my way.” A strained smile pulled to his face as he bid goodbye. Stepping out of the store, he sees you happily munching on a blueberry muffin you bought from the bakery. “Hi, Dad! You got anything?” He looks around you. “Do you have any food?” You place your muffin down on the table and grab the bag full of treats. “Yeah. I got some–” Ford dipped his hand in the bag and pulled out a cookie. His other hand digs into the inner pockets of his coat and pulls out a vial of pink sprinkles. “I knew I was going to use this at some point.” He mutters to himself, popping off the cork. “What are you doing?” You ask, watching as he sprinkled it onto the cookie.

𝄞 “You’ll see.” He winks at you before scooping it off the table and walking back into the store. Minutes later, he comes out with a big sinister smile on your face. “What did you do, Dad?” He pointed at the entrance of the store and it didn’t take long to see what he did. A flamingo human-like creature erupted into the store, squawking crazily as their head desperately swiped from side to side, looking for someone. Their black beady eyes landed on you and Ford. An angry squawk was heard from them, their chicken like legs slapping on the floor as they charged at you and Ford. “Run!’ Ford grabbed your wrist and darted away. In a quick swiping motion, you grabbed your bag full of treats before being whisked away. Loud bird noises were heard behind you and you couldn’t help but laugh. “Who is that chasing us?” Ford took a quick turn into another store, shuffling past people and hiding in a discreet corner with you. “That may be your ex angrily chirping at us.” You clapped your palm onto your mouth, an effort to muffle the laughter that left you. “Of course you’d do something like that!” The rest of the day was stealthily trying to escape the mall without being pecked to death by a very angry flamingo. When you did, you were laughing all the way to the car. “Do you always have that around for times like this?” Ford nods. “You’ll never know when you need to make someone a flamingo.” The automatic slide door pulls apart. “Pines!” The now fully turned flamingo human hybrid squawked out. “Get in the car, hurry!”

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz, @katharine3000

dm or comment if you want to be added to my taglist :3

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanley pines x reader #stanford pines #ford pines #ford pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x daughter!reader #stan pines x reader #stan pines x child!reader #stanley pines x daughter! reader #stanley pines x child!reader #ford pines x child!reader #ford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x daughter!reader #stanford pines x child!reader

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niki-phoria · 1 year ago

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pairing: leon kennedy x gn!reader (no pronouns used) genre: angst word count: 729

includes: implied re4 leon, leon cries, so much angst

a/n: inspired by this prompt list by @urfriendlywriter and this post by @rishiguro !! i'm debating making a part 02 of this where reader survives if anyone's interested

warnings: lots of blood, mentions of death

“no, no, no,” leon whispers. he all but falls to his knees beside you, desperately pressing his hands against your torso. “come on, stay with me.”

“leon?” your voice is raspy and strained as you force the words to leave your lips. squinting up at him, you can just barely make out his blurry figure hovering just over you. “lee-” you choke.

“shh, don’t try to talk,” he whispers. “it’s okay. i’m here. just… keep your eyes open for me, okay?”

blood seeps through the thick fabric of leon’s gloves, staining his fingers a deep red. he moves without thinking; his heart beating violently in his chest reminds him of his own mortality as he rips his shirt and harness off.

leon’s hands tremble as he balls up the fabric of his t-shirt before pressing it against your wound. a low groan of pain escapes you at the contact. your hand instinctively reaches up to wrap around his wrist, though you don’t make any real efforts to pull away from him.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers. his eyebrows furrow as he racks his brain in an attempt to remember his first aid training. tears blur his vision before he blinks them away to focus on the task at hand. “i know it hurts. just look at me. just keep looking at me.”

your eyes flutter shut for a second before you force them back open. the world around you spins. you can feel your own heart beating violently against your chest walls - desperate to keep you alive. “leon,” you choke out once again. blood pools in your mouth with each strained movement you make. your chest shakes as you cough uncontrollably.

“don’t speak,” he whispers. his eyes flicker from your chest to your face. “it’s okay. don’t try to talk.”

you squint up at him. a shaky breath leaves your lips before you do your best to softly smile at leon. “i- i love you.”

the words sound more like a choked groan when they leave your lips, but you hope the message comes across nonetheless. you shudder as another, shallower breath escapes you. black spots begin to appear in your vision.

leon presses down on your chest even harder. a hiss of pain escapes your clenched teeth. “stay with me,” he whispers. “y/n, please stay with me.”

your breath hitches in your throat. the black spots spread until they all but overtake your entire field of vision. before you know it, the world slowly begins to fade away.

“y/n, come on,” leon mumbles. bloody hands reach up to cradle your face. his name leaves your lips like a prayer. like if he hopes enough he’ll be able to save you.

tears roll down his cheeks in waves before he realizes. it feels like it’s been years since he’s cried. at least not like this. his throat burns as choked sobs escape his lips. the world seemingly falls apart around him.

“please don’t leave me,” leon whimpers. his voice cracks as much as his heart does. each beat of his heart is more painful than the last. “please… i need you. i need you here with me.”

you don’t move. your hands don’t shake from fear. your eyes aren’t squeezed shut in pain. leon sobs. you look so peaceful. death is peaceful, he supposes. in the golden haze of light and heaven or the dark nothingness of the empty there’s nothing else than can hurt you. no more monsters to jump out from behind corners and litter your body with even more scars. no more sleepless nights spent desperately trying to fight off any new nightmares. no more worry. no more agony.

guilt racks through leon’s body. you look so peaceful, but a selfish part of him wants you back. wants to keep you alive despite the suffering of life. wants to feel your heart beating when he falls asleep on your chest or your fingers tangled in his hair after a tough day or the warmth of your fingers as they gently massage the tension from out of his back and shoulder blades.

leon’s entire body shakes in anguish. leaning down, he presses his head against your chest, desperate to feel your heartbeat. a breath. anything.

“please…” he repeats. kneeling down on the cold concrete ground, crading your limp body in his arms, leon’s prayers go unanswered.

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wtfsteveharrington · 7 months ago

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take the upper hand | carmen berzatto x reader

push the reset button we're becomin' something new

description: carmen berzatto is stubborn and anxious and doesn't always know how to express himself. your best friend drags you to a party that carmen knows you'll be at and he shows up to make amends and thank god he does because he saves you from dealing with some drunk asshole.

content warnings: angsty!! drinking/party scene, shitty drunk guy w/ a shitty guy mentality!!, reader gets hit on with one night stand suggestion tones, carmen's ready to swing, mentions of anxiety and jealousy. mentions of reader drinking. kissing, mentions of intimacy related scratches, some light smut references.

author notes: my first time posting something that isn't just smut!! also something that no one but me has read!! normally i always get a proof read, not today. but this idea has been rattling around in my ole noggin' for a minute now so here we are. reminder!! you are responsible for your own media consumption!! if this won't be your jam then there's tons of other fics in the sea (: ily thank you!

even if it's handcuffed i'm leavin' here with you

•• ━━━━━ ••●•• ━━━━━ ••

The last place you wanted to be tonight was some house party in Wicker Park. With Pitbull, of all artists, playing so loud in the basement that the floor upstairs was still vibrating. Everything was sticky and stinky and you did not wanna be here.

But your best friend was hooked on this guy from her gym.

It didn’t help that Carmy recognized his name from high school and mumbled out some remark about, “Oh yeah, no Dave’s a pretty solid guy.” She was convinced it was a sign that they were meant to be. Not to mention she found his mom’s Facebook and a post from two years ago that included his birth time. The whole train ride over you listened to how compatible the two of them were and how much she loved that he was a Scorpio rising.

She had begged you to come to this God forsaken party and help put in a good word for her. Something had her convinced that if you mentioned just how well you were getting to know Carmen to this Dave guy that he would hold your opinion of her in higher regards.

And sure, maybe there was a part of you that hoped Carmen would be here even while the two of you were feuding. He knew it was coming up but couldn’t promise he’d be off in time - Something you got quite used to. It normally didn’t bother you that he had so many late nights at the resturant but when it rains, it pours and now you’re stuck sitting next to the sink littered cups filled with what can only be best described as some sort of horrific finance bro jungle juice. A mix of 1942 and fresh pressed juice.

Your nose wrinkles up at the smell but you’re quickly refocused at the booming sounds of Ethan Callaghan stumbling through the back door. Another man Carmy knew from high school but didn’t like as much. Something about always being too in-your-face. Though you were pretty sure he was close with the guy your best friend was currently hooking up with in some random bedroom down the hall.

The second his eyes land on you there’s a lopsided smile being thrown your way as he tries to fluff his hair and stand up as straight as possible. He’s stumbling into the kitchen with a full drink in hand, droning on and on about how he was ‘just so jealous’ that your friend went into that bedroom earlier. How nice it must be to not end the night alone. No pleasantries at all, just right into the whole lonely and horny act that was grossing you out.

No one particularly knew you and Carmy were together yet - He wasn’t the type who wanted to label right away and potentially mess things up and you weren’t the type to out your dating status to random drunken men either. Besides, you weren’t so sure that ‘I have a boyfriend’ would put an end to this pitiful man’s sob story.

As if, on queue and manifested right out of thin air, Carmen rounds the corner and takes a second to soak in the sight in front of him. You’re sitting there with your eyes trained on the water bottle in your hands. Ethan’s yapping away about how pretty you are and how big his apartment is. An excellent view in Streeterville that you’d love to see with the best brunch place in town two blocks away blah, blah, blah. Your shoulders are hunched over, body leaning away from Ethan as he stands at the window watching his reflecting in the window above the sink.

“Hey - Been looking for you.”

Carmen.

Your head whips around to the sight of his voice instantly. There’s a pang in your chest at the sight of him standing in front of you after you two had been apart for these last few days. He looked tired. Wearing a sweater he knows you love because he wants to look nice for you. God you wanted to run over and crash yourself against his chest. Screw the petty fight. Instead you’re stuck giving him a very pointed look, hoping he takes the hint to save you.

He’d be lying if there wasn’t a split second where Carmen feared you were actually going to go home with this loser until he saw the panic and annoyance written across your face. Ethan’s laughing at the sight of him. “Hey, Dude. Think we’re all good here, yeah?” Oh he hates this dick.

There’s a thick level of tension in the room as Carmen squares up his shoulders and steps further into the room. His eyes are trained on Ethan who clearly wasn’t expecting much of a fight out of Carmy. He stops when he’s standing between your knees, putting himself between the two of you. Something about the way he instantly turned possessive turned up a feeling deep in your stomach no matter how annoyed you still were.

“Pretty sure someone out back was looking for you, Dude. It doesn’t seem like anyone in here wants you around. Now either you’re too fucking dense to realize it or you don’t care that you’re not wanted, but I’m here to let you know. So I suggest running out back and getting the fuck out of our hair.”

Ethan’s clearly entertained while looking between the two of you, a playful glint in his eye. You’re silently begging him to walk away and find yourself bringing a hand up to put on the small of Carmen’s back. While you’ve never seen him actually fight, you’ve seen many scraps between him and Richie. Heard stories of him growing up and heard the Bachelor party story.

You’re fine not having your own fight stories to tell.

T-Pain is now blasting in the background and the contrast of people laughing and singing downstairs versus the situation you’ve found yourself in is making your head spin. The whole time your best friend is clueless and wrapped up in Mr. Scorpio Rising. She owes you big time. Like you’ve secured friend of the year already and she needs to throw a parade in your honor after going through this.

Ethan’s finally putting his hands up in the air, that shit eating grin still plastered across his features. “My bad, my bad. Didn’t know you were already claimed.” Claimed. Gross. Your fingers press into Carmy’s back, a silent plea to beg him not to escalate this even more. He’s laughing at the sight of the two of you before snagging a half finished bottle of vodka off the counter and backing up towards the back door.

Carmen steps out from between your legs and follows Ethan to ensure he leaves. Shoulders pushed back, chest puffed out. You’d find the sight entertaining if you still weren’t so on edge. Carmen Berzatto, your protector.

And sure, he’s probably just making this asshole someone else’s problem for the night but he doesn’t care. The main priority is getting you away from him and getting you safe.

You catch the sight of his curls out of the corner of your eye when Carmen returns and instantly steel your spine. The shift in the air now that Ethan is gone was thick. He was a distraction from the distance between you two but now you’re preparing yourself for another argument when really you had no energy left to give it. There was a small worry that he’d think you gave Ethan any inclination that you were interested. Even though you two had been tense, there was never anyone else but you but him. Even if you’re too stubborn to drop that information just yet.

Carmen’s quiet. His heavy boots against the floor make your heart beat faster. Everyone had scattered out of the kitchen when he walked Ethan out of there but not before giving you two a nervous glance as they went. Some probably disappointed there wasn’t a fight if we’re being honest.

“Hey.”

You don’t dignify him with a response. Crossing your arms over your chest and taking a sudden interest in the magnets that littered this guy’s fridge. Toying with the idea of putting the ‘Area 51 is for Lovers!’ magnet in your pocket. You figured you deserved something for going through this hell of a night.

He stops himself once he’s reached your side, the silence awkward and thick in the air. Carmy’s hand is on your knee now, his touch not as firm as you’re used to. The whiplash of emotions once again not helping either of you know just quite where you stand.

“M’still mad at you.”

He winces but he knew it was coming.

The two of you wallow in silence. Carmy’s just about to finally speak but someone stumbles in on the hunt for vodka, takes one look at the annoyance on your boyfriend’s face, before quickly muttering they’ll find it somewhere else.

And you still won’t look at him.

He’s grabbing at your waist now, pulling you from the counter and against his chest. You wanna protest but there’s still a buzz going through your body that makes it hard to think quick enough to push back. Plus God does he feel warm and smell so good.

Carmy’s walking backwards towards the fridge, waiting until his back is flush against it to slide down. Bringing down those magnets you wouldn’t stop staring at, family photos, whatever was in his way came with the two of you. He’s tugging you until you’re straddling his waist while he brings his knees up to support you. Grabbing a hold of your face, finally making you look at him and fuck he looks like shit close up. Dark circles, hair a little messier than he’d normally allow, a bit of fear deep in his eyes.

“You gotta tell me how to fix this.” It’s all unfamiliar territory for him. There wasn’t exactly a good example set for him growing up to say the least.

Four days ago Carmen watched as the barista at some coffee shop you wanted to go to flirted with you. That shit already annoyed him, but he tried to bite his tongue. Then your latte came out with a heart in the foam and you kept explaining that’s just how they all come out but he was jealous and possessive and didn’t know how to communicate that so instead the two of you fought in the car for an hour. It was so stupid and he’s been kicking himself in the ass ever since.

The past four days you refused to talk to him and had done a good job at dodging the situation. Normally you two fight, you fuck, and then you pretend everything’s okay. The cycle was getting old and wearing you down.

Until now.

You give a heavy sigh, reaching out to toy with the bottom hem of his shirt. Carmy really did look like it had been going through it so you’re throwing him a small bone. “Maybe not making me sit on a sticky floor would be a good start.” He’s muttering out this small laugh, thankful to hear anything coming out of your mouth let alone a joke, the sound vibrating against your fingertips and you hate how much it fills your heart.

He waits for the rest. The other shoe to fall. Every ounce of laughter is gone when you finally collect yourself enough for - “Do you think we’re good together, Carmen?” You can feel him stiffen under you, his hands gripping at your waist because he needs something to give him some stability.

A beat goes by. “I think you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” Another beat, this time it’s Carmy who refuses to look at you. Eyes downcast and trained on your lap. “But I’m not sure I’m good for you.” You weren’t expecting that.

Once again silence falls between the two of you, still toying with the hem of his shirt before you lean in to bury your face in the crook of his neck. Taking a deep breath that’s filled with his cologne, faint smoke, and just Carmen that you’ve grown to crave. “You just gotta learn to trust me, Carmen. Outta everyone in this world, I’m the main one who never wants to hurt you. Especially for some barista with a fuckin’ comb over.”

You hoped he would laugh again, but the sound never comes. Instead you feel his arms go tight around your body, his knees coming up a bit more which makes you fully lean into his chest. He’s clinging to you, wishing so badly he knew what to say (or could let himself) say what he knows he needs to. Instead he’s just pressing a kiss to your head, sighing into your hair.

“I wanna be better for you. Just don’t know how.”

The two of you cling to each other and fight to get as close as possible. The distance apart these past four days has left the both of you physically aching for one another. It’s been hours, days of a tense heart and checking phones for texts neither of you knew how to send. You press a kiss against his neck, leaning back just enough to grab his face in your hands and stroke your thumbs over his cheeks.

“It’s scary for me too, y’know? This, us. You’re not alone in being scared but lashing out at me isn’t gonna solve anything. I’m not going anywhere, Carmy.” You take the first step in mending the relationship by leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. There’s a hand coming up to cup the back of your neck, holding you in place as if he’s still scared you’re going to change your mind and run off before he can realize it’s happening.

He’s letting you take the lead and only deepening the kiss once he feels your hands slide under his shirt. Fingers trailing along the toned skin while Carmey licks your bottom lip. Your hands glide around his back where you’re able to trace over healing scratches left on the skin from your last night together.

Your lips part and you take the lead once again, letting your tongue slide along his and giving a low moan into his mouth as you taste him. There’s the lingering taste of cigarettes mixed with black coffee and Carmen. Once again indescribable and simply him. His grip on you tightens up in response and you know if you’re not careful then you’ll end up disheveled and tangled up in the backseat of his car or bent over one of the sinks in a disgusting bathroom. Both options you refuse to pick over getting home and letting him properly make this up to you.

Dragging your nails along the healing marks, Carmen starts to lose track of his kissing. His grip on your neck tightening a bit more, hips rocking up towards you against his better judgement. The motion’s getting needy and sloppy and you have to pull away much to both of your disappointment.

Shaking your head and bringing your hands up to rest flush against his warm chest. “You’re not gonna fuck me on this nasty floor. I deserve better than this.” Which, of course you do. He just gets carried up when he’s wrapped up in you. He’s nodding in agreement but can’t stop himself from licking his own lips to chase the sensation of you.

He’s looking over your features, his heart picking up pace even more than he thought was possible anymore. “Think you’re meant to be my forever, y’know? Sometimes I look at you and it scares the shit out of me because I look ahead and-... It’s you. Kids sitting at a table in the restaurants doing homework. A honeymoon overseas where I get to drag you around different pasty shops and restaurants and we’ll find random art in flea markets to hang when we get home. Take photos that end up framed. It’s you. Always.”

Now how are you supposed to be mad when he’s this open and honest. Unpacking a future you had thought only you considered so far. You hope this behavior sticks. It’s not easy for either of you, but it’s worth fighting through the learning curve. “Kids, huh? Multiple? They’ll be your harshest critics, Carmy. I dunno if you can handle their reviews quite yet.” He’s chuckling, shaking his head with a lazy smile. “No, not yet. But one day.” The promise of more between you finally putting an end to this discussion for now. You make a mental note to remember this moment when the two of you bicker in the future - No matter what there’s always more on the road ahead of you.

Which makes you smile too. Wrapping your arms around his neck. “One day.” You reward him with one more kiss, knowing that’s all the two of you can risk before you end up sprawled out on this floor.

Carmy’s desperate to keep the lightened mood. He’s giving it a moment for both of you to calm back down from kissing before playfully scrunching up his face. “God you taste like shitty tequila.” It works. You’re laughing and swatting your hand against his chest, feeling a bit lighter than you did when you walked into this place. “Carmen Berzatto be nice to me!”

He’s beaming at you now. Bright, happy.

It’s a stark difference from the funk you’d both been stuck in since this fight started. The sight makes your heart swell and you bring a hand up to push some curls back off of his forehead. Leaning in to press a kiss against the tip of his nose.

“Lemme take you home, yeah? Get you some food on the way? Gotta make sure someone so pretty doesn’t wake up with a hangover.” He loves taking care of you in anyway you'll let him.

You nod and carefully start to shuffle off of his lap. Getting yourself to your feet before reaching down to help tug Carmen up to his feet. You catch as he adjusts himself in his pants, a flush blooming along his cheeks and down his neck. Stepping back in until you’re chest to chest with him, you press a line of kisses along his jaw. Rough stubble going away once you find his lips yet again. You hum against his mouth, bringing your hand up to cup his cheek. “You gotta shave in the morning, Carmy.” He’s nodding instantly, reaching his hand down into his pocket to fish out the car keys.

There’s a notification lighting up your phone - Perfect timing. A simple “Gonna spend the night ;)” text from your best friend. You can’t help but to grin and roll your eyes, turning the phone around so Carmen can see the notification too. He’s laughing while sliding a hand into your back pocket and starting to lead the two of you out of the kitchen.

“Yeah, remind me to tell Dave that his friend fuckin’ sucks.”

#why am i nervous to post this #♡: c.b.#carmen berzatto #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto x reader #carmen x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #carmy berzatto

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rispwr · 6 days ago

Text

Hate you - chapter 1 - J.JK

Pairings : ex! Jungkook x ex! Reader

Notes : finally here!! lowkey didn't get to my word goal:((

Genre : Ex2L, angst, slow burn, fake dating, slice of life, fluff, e2l, corporate rivals, smau, smut

Sypnosis : ‘You were always told that hating someone is the only way it doesn’t hurt but what if you can’t hate him? No matter how hard you try your heart will always find it’s way to his’

2 years after breaking up with your boyfriend of 2 years you were finally on your way to become the ceo of your family’s company your rival turns out to be your ex.

Contents/warnings :

Misunderstood break up, insecurities, mentions of self harms or mental health issues, jk is mean at the start, yelling, sensitive language or words, mentions of family trauma, corporate au, smart (both), mentions of yoongi x oc, mentions of cheating, soon to be ceo! Jk, soon to be ceo! Oc, oc is still named Y/n or {__}, corporate rivals?, fake dating, lack of communication, death of a character, mentions of suicide attempt, platonic relationships with other members

NSFW contents : specified in chapter

series masterlist

The question that lingers in my mind

Namjoon quickly made his way to your house, arms loaded with a tub of your favorite ice cream and a bag filled with your favorite go to alcohol or probably beer. He was your closest friend, practically a brother, and he always seemed to know how to comfort you when you needed it most. The familiar sound of his knuckles tapping against the door echoed through your silent apartment.

"Y/N! I'm hereee!" he called, his voice bright and cheerful, trying to cut through the heaviness of the moment.

"It's open! Just come in," you managed to reply, though your voice cracked, betraying the tears you had been trying to stifle. As soon as the door swung open, you felt a fresh wave of sobs building in your chest.

Namjoon rushed in, his expression shifting from playful to concerned in an instant. "What happened??" he asked, worry etched across his features as he approached your room.

You couldn't find the words, the emotions overwhelming you as you sat on the edge of your bed, crumpled tissues littering the floor around you. Instead, you just continued to cry, your heart breaking all over again.

"Do you want me to call Jungkook??" he offered, but at the mention of his name, your sobs intensified. The thought of hearing his voice was too painful, too fresh.

Namjoon paused, taking a moment to assess the situation. He knelt beside you, turning your head gently to meet his gaze. "Did you guys fight?" he asked softly, as if trying to piece together the fragments of your distress.

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "Worse," you finally managed to reply, voice trembling. "Joon... he fucking broke up with me. He fucking—fuck. He dumped me."

The air felt heavy with the weight of your confession, and Namjoon's eyes widened in shock. "Why?? What happened??" he pressed, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

"Exactly... I don't know what I did wrong," you sobbed harder, the floodgates opening. "How can he just throw away our memories like that? And he has the fucking audacity to tell me to wait for him" Your words trailed off, and you buried your face in your hands, unable to contain the wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Namjoon instinctively pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a comforting embrace. "Hey, it's okay. Just let it out," he murmured, gently rubbing your back as you tried to cool down.

After a few moments, you pulled away slightly, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. "Let's go to a club later, Joon. Maybe I'll find someone better there," you suggested, the anger in your voice barely masking the hurt.

"No, Y/N. You are not getting knocked up or catching dirty diseases from filthy men in clubs," he replied firmly, though there was a hint of a smile at your reckless idea. "Let's just drink or hang out today, yeah?"

You considered it for a moment. "We can bring friends too if you want," he suggested, gauging your reaction.

Flashback

The moment you received Jungkook's breakup text, your heart sank. The message was blunt, cold, and devoid of any emotion—just like the man you once thought would love you forever. With shaking hands, you stared at your phone, disbelief coursing through you. After two years of shared dreams and plans, he had chosen to end things with a simple text. It felt unreal, like a cruel joke played by the universe.

You had to see him, to confront him. You couldn't let this end without hearing his voice, without understanding why. So you drove to his penthouse, each turn of the road amplifying the dread that clutched at your heart.

When you arrived, you barely registered the grandeur of his place—the sleek furniture, the breathtaking view of the city that had once felt like a backdrop to your love story. Instead, all you could think about was the weight of Jungkook's decision and the emptiness that came with it.

You stepped inside, the familiar scent of his cologne wrapping around you like a memory. Your footsteps echoed in the spacious hallway as you made your way to his room. You could feel your heart racing, a mixture of anger, confusion, and sorrow bubbling up inside you.

"Y/N... I told you we're done," Jungkook's voice was strained as he stood with his back to you, facing the window. His shoulders were tense, and he seemed unwilling to meet your gaze.

"Is that really how you're going to do this? You sent me a text. A fucking text, Jungkook! You didn't tell me anything." Your voice rose, a sharp edge of frustration cutting through the pain.

He turned slightly, just enough for you to see the profile of his face, marred by uncertainty and conflict. "Y/N... I need space, alright?!" The sudden snap in his tone took you aback, his frustration spilling over.

"Space? Why?" Your voice cracked, the gravity of his words sinking in. "What did I do wrong? Was I not enough?" Each question felt like a dagger, piercing through the thin veil of composure you had left.

"Was there someone el—" Before you could finish, Jungkook stepped forward, closing the gap between you in an instant. He grabbed your face with both hands and crashed his lips onto yours. The kiss was desperate, consuming, as if he were trying to devour you, to erase the reality of what was happening.

You melted into him, instinctively wrapping your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your heart raced, conflicting emotions swirling inside you. But just as quickly as it began, he pulled away, breathless and tearful.

"Jungkook... baby, please, no..." you begged, your voice trembling as the tears you had been holding back began to spill over. "Don't do this to us."

"I think it's time we take a break, Y/N." His voice was softer now, but it carried an unyielding finality. "I'll come back to you once I'm all better and perfect for you. Hm?" He brought your face up gently, forcing you to look into his eyes, those familiar brown depths that had always felt like home.

You nodded silently, your heart breaking at the thought of being apart. The weight of his words crushed you, leaving you feeling small and defeated.

Minutes passed in silence, a heavy tension settling between you. It felt as if the air had thickened, each breath becoming a struggle as you both tried to navigate the emotional turmoil that had engulfed you.

"I just... I don't understand," you finally whispered, trying to process the whirlwind of feelings. "We were happy, weren't we? What changed?"

He sighed, raking a hand through his hair in frustration. "It's not that simple, Y/N. I don't want to drag you down with me. I need to figure things out... for both of us."

"But I want to help you! I want to be there for you!" you protested, tears streaming down your cheeks, mascara running down in dark streaks. "Why can't you see that?"

"Because sometimes love isn't enough," he replied, his voice strained with emotion. He stepped back, distancing himself as if he were afraid of the intensity of what was happening between you.

The moment stretched painfully, the silence growing heavier. You felt as if you were teetering on the edge of a precipice, unsure of how to step back from this chasm. You wanted to scream, to shake him and make him see reason, but all you could do was stand there, vulnerable and exposed.

"can you do something for me baby?" Jungkook said, his expression softening for a moment. "just- just wait for me. i'll be back once i'm all ready, better and fit for you. can you be okay with that baby?"

The thought of moving on without him felt unbearable. "How can you ask me that? How can you just walk away and expect me to be okay?" Your voice was barely a whisper, each word laced with sorrow.

"Because I love you," he said, and it felt like a knife to your heart. "And I don't deserve you. his is the hardest thing I've ever had to do, i'll be back once i finally deserve you."

The finality of his words hung in the air, suffocating you. It felt like the walls were closing in, and you struggled to breathe.

"I can't believe you're doing this," you murmured, feeling your heart splintering into a million pieces. "I thought we were in this together."

"Y/N... please," he said, his voice breaking slightly. He stepped closer again, his hands cupping your face. "I need you to trust me. This is what's best for both of us."

You searched his eyes, looking for any sign of doubt, any flicker of hesitation. But all you saw was resolve, and it shattered you. You couldn't fight against him anymore; it felt like trying to hold back the tide.

"Just... go," you finally said, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. "If this is what you want, then go. But don't expect me to be here when you come back."

With that, you turned away, feeling like a ghost in the place that had once felt like home. The silence followed you as you walked out of his room, your heart heavy with the weight of your shattered dreams.

The drive back to your penthouse was a blur. You could barely see through the tears streaming down your face, mascara staining your cheeks. Each turn felt like a reminder of what you had lost. You replayed the moments you had shared, the laughter, the plans, the way he had looked at you with such warmth. Now, it was all gone—an illusion shattered by a single text.

When you arrived at your penthouse, the familiar surroundings offered little comfort. The walls felt like they were closing in on you, suffocating you with memories that now felt tainted. You dropped your keys on the table, the sound echoing through the silence.

You collapsed onto the bed, wrapping your arms around yourself as if trying to hold together the pieces of your broken heart. The emptiness inside you ached, a deep, gnawing pain that refused to let go. You could feel the tears coming again, an uncontrollable wave of sorrow crashing over you.

Why couldn't he see that you were enough? That you wanted to fight for him, for the love you had built together?

2 weeks

It had been two weeks since Jungkook broke up with you—two weeks of silence that felt louder than any argument you'd ever had. Two weeks without his messages lighting up your phone, his reassuring voice calling you just to check in, or his sweet words that somehow always knew how to soothe the deepest parts of you. The absence was a void, consuming and hollow, yet sharp at the edges, cutting into you with every reminder.

You missed the little things. How he would text you "good morning" without fail, his sleepy voice leaving voicemails if he couldn't reach you. The silly pictures he'd send to make you laugh on your roughest days, and his small, unexpected gifts. They'd come in glossy packages, ribbons you'd undo with eager hands only to reveal something so extravagantly expensive you'd feel your heart swell and your voice catch, telling him he didn't have to spend so much. But he would just smile, his hand resting gently against your cheek, saying, "You deserve to be treated for what you're worth. And you're worth millions... billions. So much more than that."

No amount of words had convinced him that you didn't need all those grand gestures. It was his presence, his love, that was priceless to you. He was what you wanted, all you needed. But now, without him, even those little things he left behind seemed like they were mocking you, a painful reminder of promises unkept.

Two weeks should have been long enough to let go, to start piecing together the shattered remains of your heart. You told yourself every day that it was time to move on, to forget. But your heart betrayed you every night as you lay in bed, reaching instinctively to the other side where he used to lie. The sheets were cold now, his scent slowly fading. And with each reminder, a thousand questions echoed in your mind.

Why was it so easy for him to leave? Why did he walk away so quickly while you were still drowning in the memories he left behind?

You took a deep breath, swallowing down the ache that rose in your throat. This wasn't healthy. You couldn't go on like this, holding onto fragments of a love that no longer existed. Standing up, you made your way to your closet, determination stiffening your resolve. If he could move on so easily, then so could you.

Opening the doors, you took in the rows of clothes neatly hung, interspersed with items that weren't yours—hoodies, shirts, and jackets that he'd left behind after countless nights spent together. You reached out, fingers brushing over a worn T-shirt of his, the fabric soft and familiar beneath your touch. You could still remember the last time he'd worn it, his arms wrapped around you as you lay in his embrace, your head resting against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

But that was then. And now... now it was time to let go.

You started pulling his clothes out one by one, each article feeling heavier than the last. It was almost a ritual, each item you took out a small act of defiance, a reclaiming of the space he'd left behind. As the pile grew, so did the anger simmering within you. It bubbled up, breaking through the sadness, sharpening into something fierce and raw.

"Fuck you, Jungkook," you muttered under your breath, barely realizing that you'd spoken aloud. "For making me love you and then leaving me like this." The words tumbled out, each one laced with the bitterness that had been building up inside you.

With each piece you tossed into the box, the weight on your chest seemed to lessen just a bit. You threw in the hoodies he'd lent you on cold nights, the shirts you'd worn as pajamas, each one carrying the ghost of his touch. You wanted them out of your sight, out of your life.

Once his clothes were gone, you moved on to the other things—the little keepsakes he'd left behind. His toothbrush next to yours, his cologne bottle half-empty on the dresser, the small stack of books he'd borrowed and never returned. You swept it all into the box, each item feeling like a wound you were finally closing.

But as you finished packing everything, your hand brushed against something cold, and you froze. It was the necklace—the one he'd given you on that perfect night when he'd promised you forever. Your fingers trembled as you held it up, the delicate chain glinting in the light. You remembered how he'd clasped it around your neck, his fingers grazing your skin as he whispered, "This is my promise to you. I'm never leaving, no matter what."

The weight of his broken promise pressed down on you, and before you could stop it, the tears spilled over. You clutched the necklace tightly, the cool metal digging into your palm as you struggled to hold yourself together.

Why had he left? Why hadn't he fought for you, for the life you'd planned together? You'd given him everything, yet he'd walked away as if it meant nothing.

Your knees buckled, and you sank down onto the floor, sobs wracking your body as the pain you'd tried so hard to contain came rushing to the surface. You felt like you were drowning, lost in a sea of grief and anger and confusion. It was as if every part of you that had once been whole was now fractured, broken beyond repair.

In the midst of your tears, you fumbled for your phone, your fingers shaking as you scrolled through your contacts. Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon's number, needing the comfort of someone who understood, who could help anchor you in the storm of emotions.

The phone rang, and after a few moments, his familiar voice answered. "Yes, Y/N? Is everything okay?" His tone was warm, tinged with concern, and it only made the tears flow harder.

"Joon..." you choked out, trying to steady your breathing. "Why—why is this so hard? I just... I just wish there was something more I could hate him for. Something to make this easier, to stop myself from loving him..." Your voice broke, a fresh wave of sobs escaping as the words you'd been holding in finally spilled out.

"Oh, Y/N..." Namjoon's voice softened, filled with empathy. "He's an asshole for doing this to you, babe. You didn't deserve any of it. I'm so sorry." There was a pause, and then he added gently, "Want me to come over? I can bring some ice cream, or we can just sit and talk if you need."

For a brief moment, the thought of having him there was comforting. But you shook your head, even though he couldn't see it. "No... I'm alright. I just... I just needed to hear your voice," you murmured, the exhaustion in your voice evident.

"Okay," he said quietly, and you could hear the sadness in his tone, the frustration that he couldn't do more to help. "But if you change your mind, I'm just a call away. Promise me you'll take care of yourself?"

"Yeah..." you replied softly, the words barely more than a whisper.

Before he could say more, you ended the call, feeling a pang of guilt. Namjoon had always been there for you, a steady presence in your life, yet right now, not even his reassurance could ease the ache inside you.

You looked down at the necklace still clutched in your hand, your fingers loosening around it. It felt heavy, a tangible reminder of the promises he'd broken, the love that had once felt so real. Slowly, you unclasped it from around your neck, feeling a strange sense of finality as you placed it gently in the box, on top of everything else.

The last piece of him, gone.

flashback

Paris was like a living dream. The city's air felt soft, carrying the scent of fresh bread, blooming flowers, and that slight trace of romance found only here. Jungkook's hand held yours as you both strolled down cobblestone streets, the lights of the city casting a warm, golden glow on the world around you. It was your first anniversary, and Jungkook had insisted on making it memorable.

"The city suits you," he murmured, his eyes soft as they roamed over your face. You squeezed his hand in response, feeling so grateful to be here with him.

"It's... perfect," you breathed, taking in the architecture, the people, and, most of all, him.

That day, as you both wandered through Paris, something caught your eye in a small shop window—a necklace, delicate yet striking, in the shape of a butterfly. You stopped in front of it, drawn in by the design's subtle elegance. But you were careful not to linger too long, as you weren't one to ask for material things. Growing up, you were used to having everything handed to you without a word, and you always felt a tinge of guilt about it. It made you appreciate thoughtfulness over wealth.

Jungkook noticed the way your eyes lingered, though you quickly looked away. He smiled to himself, filing the moment away in his mind. You had no idea that he'd already decided on a plan.

That night, back in the hotel room, you were peacefully asleep after a long day. With your steady breathing as his only company, Jungkook slowly and carefully slipped out of bed, glancing at you one last time to make sure you were truly asleep. He moved quietly, slipping out the door and into the Parisian night, with a mission in mind.

Jungkook made his way back to the boutique. The shopkeeper, who was just about to close up, welcomed him with a knowing smile as he walked in.

"Changed your mind about the necklace, sir?" she asked, recognizing him.

"Yes," Jungkook replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. "I'd like it custom-made."

He explained his idea: the initials "K.Y." and "J.JK" engraved on the back, where only the two of you would know. The butterfly itself meant more to him than he could easily say; it was a symbol of transformation and new beginnings. Y/N had helped him see that change didn't have to be terrifying, that it could be a journey to something better. She was the one who had encouraged him to open his heart and embrace the unknown. In a way, she had transformed him. The necklace was not just a gift; it was his heart, crafted in gold, for her to wear close to hers.

after paying. he held the necklace in his hand, feeling a wave of excitement wash over him as he admired the initials engraved so delicately. He could already imagine your face when you'd see it, and he smiled to himself as he headed back to the hotel, hiding the box carefully before slipping back into bed beside you.

On the last night of the trip, Jungkook took your hand, guiding you to a spot near the Eiffel Tower. The sky was a rich, deep blue, and the lights of the tower illuminated everything around you, casting a golden glow that felt almost magical. You were mesmerized, feeling a sense of peace and happiness that only deepened with him beside you.

Jungkook stopped in front of you, letting go of your hand to reach into his pocket. "Close your eyes," he whispered, his voice warm.

You laughed, your heart fluttering. "What? You're not proposing or something, are you?" you joked, cheeks warming as you looked up at him.

"Not yet," he replied softly, his eyes holding a promise, "but close. I'll definitely do that one day, baby." His words sent a shiver through you, and you obeyed, closing your eyes as your heart raced.

"Okay, open your eyes," he said, a note of excitement in his voice.

You opened them, and there it was—the butterfly necklace you'd seen on the first day, resting in his open palm. "Oh my god...!" You squealed, your hands flying to your mouth. The necklace was even more beautiful up close, the delicate wings catching the light perfectly. You launched yourself at Jungkook, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug. "I love you! I can't believe you did this!"

Jungkook laughed, holding you close and watching the pure joy on your face. "Look at the back," he said gently, guiding the necklace to face you.

You turned it over and gasped as you read the initials, your own and his, engraved into the back. The sight of it brought tears to your eyes, the meaning behind the gesture sinking in deeply. "Oh my god, baby..." You could barely speak, your heart full.

He brushed his thumb over your cheek, smiling softly. "It's a butterfly, like you, because you helped me through my fear of change. You showed me that change can be beautiful, that letting go and starting new... can lead to amazing things. You opened my heart to new beginnings, and the best beginning you gave me... was with you."

"Jungkook..." Tears brimmed in your eyes, and for a moment, all you could do was look at him, taking in every detail of the person who had become your whole world. You reached up, pressing a soft kiss to his lips, then to his nose, and both his cheeks, making him giggle.

"I love you," you whispered against his cheek, "so, so much. Thank you for this—for everything."

back to present

As you closed the lid, you felt a strange sense of emptiness. The box sat there, filled with fragments of a love that had once been everything to you, and yet now, it was nothing more than a collection of memories you were desperate to forget.

For the rest of the night, you sat in silence, the weight of the loss settling over you like a heavy blanket. You wanted to hate him, to erase every trace of him from your mind. But no matter how hard you tried, his presence lingered, a haunting reminder of what you'd once had and what you'd lost.

I'll get over him, you told yourself, though the words felt hollow, as if you were trying to convince yourself of something that wasn't true. But maybe, just maybe, if you repeated it enough, one day it would be real.

3 months

The days blurred together after the breakup. Three months. For three whole months, you'd convinced yourself that this hatred for Jungkook was all you needed to numb the pain. At first, it worked, almost like a coping mechanism—every time you felt that ache in your chest, you would remind yourself of the reasons to be angry, to stay distant. But no matter how many times you reminded yourself of the anger, it was never enough to cover the emptiness, the loneliness that slowly crept in, hollowing out pieces of you.

You were isolating yourself from everyone who tried to reach you, pushing them away as if they were intruders. Namjoon had called and texted every day, and Jennie had stopped by repeatedly, but you never opened the door. Even Seokjin had come over with Sana to try and pull you out of this haze. Yet you felt too far gone. You loved Jungkook. Too much. And every time you thought of him, it felt like a fresh wound tearing open.

Then came that Thursday morning, the first rays of light slipping through your curtains, though you could barely feel them. You'd spent another night tossing and turning, haunted by memories of him. And something within you just... broke. You reached for the bottle of sleeping pills by your bedside, not thinking, just wanting the pain to fade. One pill, then two, then three, then more. You felt yourself drifting, the world becoming softer, quieter.

But the next thing you knew, you were waking up, blinking against the harsh fluorescent lights of a hospital room. It felt like a dream, surreal and hazy, until you began to focus on the faces surrounding you—your family, looking terrified and heartbroken, Namjoon with his head in his hands, Jennie crying softly beside him, and Seokjin gripping Sana's hand tightly. And then, your gaze landed on him. Jungkook was there, his eyes red and swollen, a look of devastation etched across his face. They were all worried sick.

The night before, Namjoon had wanted to surprise you with Sana. They'd brought over your favorite snacks and movies, hoping to lift your spirits. But when they arrived, your place was silent. Namjoon had called your name, but there was no answer. That's when they found you, lying on your bed, your hand loosely clutching the bottle of pills. Sana had screamed for him, her voice trembling and desperate. "Namjoon! Call 911! Please, I beg you!" She was sobbing as she held you in her arms, trying to shake you awake, her own heart breaking with each unresponsive second. "Y/N, please... please wake up!"

Namjoon's hands had shaken as he called for help, explaining the situation to the paramedics, his own voice cracking as he fought to stay composed. They both were crying, praying as they waited for the ambulance, the moments dragging on as they feared the worst.

Now, seeing you awake, a mixture of relief and heartbreak filled the room. But the silence was thick, tension brewing as everyone grappled with what had almost happened. It was Jungkook who broke it, his voice raw, trembling with both anger and hurt.

"Y/N, are you... are you insane?" he snapped, his fists clenched, his face a mixture of anger and fear. "Do you have any idea what you almost did?"

You felt your heart clench, the pain resurfacing, sharper now in his presence. "So what, Jungkook?" you replied bitterly, your voice shaking. "Why do you even care? You didn't care about my feelings when you decided to just leave me. You left, Jungkook. You left, and now you're acting like you care?"

The words spilled out before you could stop them, each one filled with months of pain and anger that had been bottled up. Jungkook opened his mouth, about to say something, but you cut him off.

"Leave, Jungkook. Just leave."

The finality in your words hit him like a punch. He froze, staring at you, his face contorted with hurt. Then, without another word, he turned and walked out of the room. The door shut behind him with a loud thud that seemed to echo through the silence, leaving everyone else frozen in place, tears streaming down their faces. Jennie clung to Seokjin, her shoulders shaking with quiet sobs, while Namjoon looked at you, his own face wet with tears as he fought to hold himself together.

It was only then that the weight of everything you'd put them through hit you, the reality of how close they'd come to losing you. They sat in silence, each one lost in their own thoughts, grieving for the person they'd almost lost, the pain written across their faces as they struggled to find the right words.

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