#I've been carrying around sadness for days and it's not getting out. damn it

[lilyliveredlittlerichboy]

i know i just said that but also there's a reasonably sized part of me that wants to quit the liveblog and just finish reading nona without obligations to anyone

[kooklovee]

HOLD ON TO ME (m) - JJK

Your husband forgets your second anniversary. What starts as disappointment and heartbreak soon spirals into doubt- about your love, your marriage & whether he even sees you anymore. But when Jungkook realizes his mistake, he’s willing to do anything to prove that his love has never wavered..

Can he make it up to you, or is it already too late?

Pairing - CeoHusband!Jungkook x Wife!Reader

Genre - 18+, established relationship au, angst, fluff, smut, some more angst MDNI

ONESHOT - 11k words

Warnings - angsty ride, hurt/comfort, workaholic Jungkook, miscommunication, crying, deep emotional intimacy, slow build, Jungkook is an idiot but trust me he's sweet alright😭, Explicit smut- unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), soft dom Jk, nipple play, lots of kissing, love-making, creampie, pet names <3, praises, happy ending (sad ending's not in my veins🫸)

a/n- snsjkqkw It's my first fic (well more like I've taken the courage to actually post it)🥹 do let me know your thoughts on it <3 n consider a reblog if you like it, thank you for reading! 🫶

Masterlist kofi☕

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The soft glow of the overhead light casts long shadows across the dining room. But its warmth does nothing to chase away the cold emptiness creeping into your chest.

You sit in one of the dining chairs, fingers idly tracing the gold band on your ring finger, the once-familiar weight of it.. feeling heavier than ever. The house is silent, except for the distant hum of the city beyond the huge windows.

Jungkook is late. Again.

You’ve lost count of how many nights have passed like this, curled up alone in bed, the space beside you growing colder with each passing hour.

He always has a reason. A meeting that ran overtime, a last-minute project, something urgent that demands his attention more than you do. And you’ve always understood. Until now.

Your second anniversary is just around the corner, and for the first time in weeks, you have something to look forward to. Something that, surely, he wouldn’t forget.

You let out a slow breath, staring at the untouched dinner on the table. It’s the third time this week you’ve set two plates, only to eat alone. The food has long gone cold, but you still can’t bring yourself to clear it away. Some foolish, desperate part of you still hopes Jungkook will walk through the door, pulling you into his arms, murmuring apologies against your skin.

But the door stays closed. Your phone stays silent.

You check the time—almost midnight.

He used to call. Even when he was busy, he always found a way to let you know he was thinking about you. A quick text. A voice note. Something. Now, hours pass without a word, and you’re left wondering when exactly you started feeling like a ghost in your own marriage.

You clench your fists, blinking back the sting in your eyes. This isn’t you. You don’t doubt him. You don’t overthink things. But these days, love feels a lot like waiting, and waiting feels a lot like breaking.

And you’re so damn tired of breaking.

You close your eyes, trying to remember the Jungkook from before, before work took over, before the distance set in. The man who, despite his quiet nature, always found a way to make you feel cherished. He wasn’t one for grand speeches, but his words had always carried weight. Small, simple confessions once meant everything. Now, silence is all you get.

It wasn’t always easy with Jungkook. Back in college, he was cold, reserved, a storm you could never quite predict. But little by little, he let you in. His love had been careful, deliberate, whispered promises in the dark, stolen glances across crowded rooms, fingertips brushing against yours like a secret only the two of you understood.

And now, it feels like you’re losing him.

The thought sends a sharp ache through your chest. You tell yourself it’s just work, that the weight of being CEO is heavier than either of you expected. That he still loves you, even if he doesn’t say it as often.

But love isn’t supposed to feel like this.

The clock hits midnight.

You don’t know what you were expecting. A text? A call? Maybe the sound of the front door unlocking, Jungkook stepping in, exhausted but still managing to hold you close?

But there’s nothing.

Your throat tightens as you stare at the small cake sitting on the dining table, the frosting slightly uneven, the decorations a little clumsy. You were never a good cook. Jungkook knew that better than anyone. But in the early days of your marriage, you had tried. Because back then, cooking together had been something special. Flour-dusted fingertips, shared laughter over burnt pancakes, stolen kisses between stirring batter.

So tonight, with him too busy and too stressed, you thought a quiet, cozy celebration would be enough. Something small, something just for the two of you.

But now, looking at the untouched dinner, the unlit candle, and the cake that no longer seems worth eating, you realize how foolish that hope was.

You glance at your phone—no messages, no missed calls.

You put away the plates. You put the cake in the fridge, even though you know it’ll probably stay there, forgotten.

And then you crawl into bed alone, wrapping your arms around yourself because if Jungkook won’t hold you, who else will?

----

You stir, feeling the warmth of an arm lazily draped around your stomach. The weight is familiar, and for a moment it feels like everything is okay.

Jungkook is still asleep. Shirtless, his toned chest rises and falls in steady breaths, his face soft in the morning light. His dark lashes cast faint shadows on his skin, and his lips parted just slightly, making him look so much younger, so much more at peace.

You take your time looking at him, memorizing the exhaustion on his face, the faint crease between his brows even in sleep. He must’ve come home late—so late that you hadn’t even heard him.

Still, he’s here. Beside you. And that alone is enough to make something flicker in your chest.

Maybe he’s planned to stay home today.

Of course he remembers.

You can’t help but lean in, pressing a soft, loving kiss against his cheek. His skin is warm beneath your lips, and for a fleeting moment, everything feels like it used to.

Jungkook mumbles something incoherent, his brows knitting slightly before relaxing again. A small, sleepy noise escapes him, and the sound makes you giggle softly.

He stirs, his grip on your waist tightening just a little before his lashes flutter open. His dark eyes, still hazy with sleep, land on you, and for a second, there’s nothing but quiet warmth in them.

"You're up early," he murmurs, his voice thick with drowsiness. His thumb absentmindedly brushes over your waist, a touch so familiar yet so foreign all at once.

You smile, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. "Couldn't sleep much," you admit softly.

Jungkook hums in response, his eyes falling shut again for a moment. He nuzzles into the pillow, his grip on you still firm like he has no intention of letting you go. And for a brief, fragile second, the weight of last night, of the distance, of everything, seems to disappear.

Maybe he really did plan to stay home today. Maybe this morning means something.

Your heart clenches with the smallest trace of hope.

Jungkook lets out a long breath and shifts onto his back, stretching his arms above his head before blindly reaching for his phone on the nightstand. His warmth leaves your side, the air turning cold almost instantly.

You watch as his expression shifts, sleep slipping away as his screen lights up. His brows furrow, jaw tightening ever so slightly.

Then, with barely a glance in your direction, he mutters, "Shit, I need to get to the office."

The hope you held onto so desperately?

Gone.

You blink, your mind scrambling to catch up.

Maybe he's kidding. Maybe this is just one of his teasing games, the kind where he acts all nonchalant just to catch you off guard later. That’s how it used to be. Him pretending to forget something important, only to turn around and surprise you in a way that left you breathless.

So you wait.

You wait for the smirk to tug at his lips, for him to toss his phone aside and pull you into his arms. You wait for him to kiss you insane, to murmur a husky "Happy anniversary, baby," against your skin.

You wait for him to prove you wrong.

But he doesn't.

Jungkook swings his legs over the bed, rubbing a hand down his face before standing up. He moves through the motions—grabbing a fresh shirt from the dresser, checking his notifications again, already half-immersed in whatever work emergency is pulling him away.

The realization settles in. suffocating. He’s not playing. He’s not pretending. He really forgot.

And with that, the last flicker of hope inside you dies.

----

The sound of the bathroom door clicking shut barely registers in your mind. The faint rush of water follows soon after, but you’re still frozen in place, staring at the empty space where Jungkook was just moments ago.

Your fingers grip the sheets as you try to process it, try to make sense of the ache settling deep in your chest.

He forgot.

The thought circles endlessly, refusing to fade. It should be simple, just a mistake, something easily fixed with an apology. But it doesn’t feel simple. It feels like another crack in something that’s already been fragile for weeks.

Your gaze drifts to your phone, the screen lighting up with messages from friends and family. Warm wishes, sweet texts. All reminders of the day that Jungkook should have been the first to acknowledge. And of course, they must have messaged him too.

But you know the answer before you even have to question it. Jungkook has two phones—one for work, one for personal use. And these days, his personal phone sits untouched, collecting dust somewhere in the house while his work phone never leaves his side.

Your throat tightens.

Even if someone did remind him, would he have even seen it? Would it have even mattered?

You swallow hard, blinking against the sudden sting in your eyes.

Maybe you should say something. Maybe you should remind him.

But a part of you, one that you don’t want to acknowledge—wonders if it even matters anymore.

You push yourself up from the bed, the weight in your chest making it harder than it should be. You don’t want to sit here, waiting for him to remember, waiting for an apology that might never come.

So you move. Just as you step toward the bathroom, the shower turns off. The door opens a moment later, as Jungkook steps out, towel slung low around his waist, droplets of water trailing down his toned chest.

For a brief second, your eyes meet. He looks at you, blinking away the last remnants of sleep, his expression unreadable. There’s no sign of realization, no flicker of guilt or hesitation. Just the same tired, distracted gaze you’ve been seeing for weeks.

You say nothing. Instead, you walk past him, entering the washroom to go about your usual routine. brushing your teeth, washing your face, anything to avoid the tightness in your throat.

The sound of the sink running is the only thing filling the silence between you.

By the time you step out of the washroom, Jungkook is already dressed for work. His tie is slightly loosened, one hand adjusting the cuffs of his sleeves while the other holds his ever-present work phone. He looks like he’s in a hurry, but that isn’t surprising. He’s been having breakfast at the office for weeks now—always rushing out, always too busy.

Still, you can’t grasp that he’s actually forgotten.

Some part of you still expects him to pause, to turn around and say something. But he doesn’t. He’s focused on his screen, scanning through emails like today is just another ordinary morning.

Your chest tightens. You need to look away before the emotions creeping up inside you spill over. So, you pretend.

You settle at the table, opening your laptop like it’s just another workday. Since you’ve been working from home for the past couple of months, this isn’t unusual—but today, it’s not about work. It’s about avoiding him. About keeping your head down so he doesn’t see the way your hands tremble slightly.

If you act normal, maybe it’ll hurt less. Maybe you won’t break in front of him.

And maybe, just maybe, if you pretend hard enough, you can fool yourself into believing it doesn’t hurt at all.

“Baby, can you help me with the tie?”

His voice is smooth- like every other morning before this one. Like today isn’t supposed to mean more.

You hesitate for half a second before standing up, walking towards him. Your fingers move automatically, looping the fabric, tightening the knot, straightening it against his crisp shirt. You should pull away the moment you’re done, return to your seat, to your laptop, to pretending like everything is fine.

But just as you step back, Jungkook’s hand catches your wrist.

Before you can react, he tugs you closer, his warmth enveloping you as his large hand cups the side of your face, fingers splayed against your skin like he’s memorizing the feel of you. His touch is tender, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek, his dark eyes holding yours for a beat too long. like he’s seeing you, really seeing you, for the first time in days.

Then, he kisses you.

Warm & lingering. Like he actually means it. Like he actually feels it.

“Need it for good luck,” he mumbles lovingly against your lips, his voice deep, hushed.

You blink up at him.

Jungkook pulls back slightly, offering a small smile. “Big deal with the Kims today.”

And just like that, reality crashes back in.

Your mind struggles to process, to understand how he can be like this. How can he kiss you like this and still not remember.

His mind is somewhere else. His thoughts, his focus—none of it is here. None of it is with you.

You force a smile, nodding wordlessly. Because what else is there to say?

----

Jungkook moves around the house, gathering his things- his wallet, his keys. You stay where you are, settled on the couch with your laptop open, pretending to be busy, pretending that your heart isn’t sitting heavy in your chest.

Just as he’s about to leave, he steps toward you, bending down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.

“Love you,” he murmurs.

Before you can even respond, he’s already halfway through the living room, his focus elsewhere, his steps hurried.

A bitter chuckle escapes your lips before you can stop it.

You remember a time when things were different. When he used to whine, pout, and nudge you relentlessly if you didn’t say it back right away, just to tease him.

Flashback

The movie playing in the background had long been forgotten, the dialogue drowned out by the soft moans slipping from your lips. The purple neon glow cast dreamy hues across the living room, painting Jungkook’s skin in shades of violet as he moved above you.

His fingers laced tightly with yours, grip tightening slightly as his thrusts grew more desperate.

“J-Jungkook…” you moaned softly, nails digging into his hand.

He groaned against your neck, his breath hot, voice wrecked. “Fuck, baby…”

Your body arched beneath him, pleasure building to something uncontrollable. “I—I’m gonna—”

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, voice deep and rough, sending you tumbling over the edge.

You both unraveled together, gasping, shaking, holding onto each other like the world outside didn’t exist.

Jungkook pressed lazy, loving kisses all over your face, his lips brushing over your cheeks, your eyelids, the tip of your nose. “You alright?” he whispered.

You nodded, a sleepy, satisfied smile tugging at your lips. But then he just stared at you. A little too long. A little too intensely.

And then, barely above a whisper, like a secret meant only for you—he said, “I love you.”

Your eyes widened slightly, a playful grin tugging at the corner of your lips as you bit down on them, trying to contain your smile. He’d been saying it more often lately, slowly getting used to voicing what he felt.

But when you took a second too long to respond, he groaned dramatically, dropping his head into the crook of your neck like a kicked puppy.

“Say it back,” he grumbled.

“What?” you teased, laughing.

Jungkook huffed, then playfully bit down on your shoulder, just enough to make you squeal.

“Say it,” he demanded, his voice muffled against your skin.

Still giggling, you cupped his face and pressed a soft kiss to his nose. “I love you, you big baby.”

His grin was instant, arms wrapping around you as he pulled you even closer, like he could never get enough.

End of Flashback

Now, he just says it in passing. quick, thoughtless, already moving on.

The front door clicks shut, and just like that, Jungkook is gone.

You sit there, fingers motionless on your laptop’s keyboard as the weight of what just happened settles deep in your chest. He forgot. He kissed you, held you, told you he loved you, but none of it was because he remembered.

Is this what your relationship has become?

Work, work, work. Always work.

It’s not that you expect Jungkook to run behind you all the time, to ditch his responsibilities just to shower you with affection. Hell, you supported him through everything- through college, through late nights chasing his dreams, through every stressful moment leading up to him becoming CEO. You believed in him.

But what about your love? Your marriage? Communication?

You’ve been patient. Too patient. more understanding than any normal wife would be. And you know Jungkook. You know he loves you, would bring you the whole damn world if you asked. But then why—why are you beginning to question it all?

Jungkook stepped into the CEO position a few months ago. At first, things were fine. He handled it well, still made time for you. But then… everything became about work. Slowly, then all at once.

You can’t even remember the last time you had truly loving sex. Not that Jungkook doesn’t love you but it doesn’t feel the same anymore. There’s tension in his touch, frustration in the way he moves against you. It’s not the warmth, the desperation to be close to you like it used to be.

Is this how life is going to be from now on?

Sure, you could talk to Jungkook about your feelings. Tell him that the distance is starting to feel unbearable.

But when?

When he’s always checking his phone? When he barely even looks at you in the mornings? When you feel like you’re living with the CEO rather than your husband?

Well, happy anniversary to you.

----

Your gaze drops to your hand, to the delicate band wrapped around your finger.

Your wedding ring.

For the first time in a long time, you really look at it- tracing the intricate details, the subtle shimmer in the morning light. And suddenly, it feels… heavier. Like you’re only noticing the weight of it now, as if it’s trying to remind you of everything it once meant.

Before you even realize what you’re doing, your fingers slip beneath the band, sliding it off. It’s only when the cool air brushes against your bare skin that it hits you.

Your breath catches, eyes widening at the sight of the ring resting in your palm. You hadn’t even thought about it—you just did it. And now, staring at the small, beautiful piece of jewelry, something inside you cracks. Tears gather before you can stop them.

Jungkook had spent weeks searching for this ring. Dragged you to countless jewelry stores, analyzing every cut, every design, obsessed with finding the perfect one. And no matter how many times you had told him that anything would make you happy, he had refused to settle for less.

"It has to be special," he had murmured against your temple the day he finally found it, slipping it onto your finger with the softest smile. "Because you’re special."

A broken sob escapes your throat as you clutch the ring tightly in your palm.

How did you end up here?

----

Jungkook leans back in his chair, exhaling slowly as he watches the final contract details appear on his screen. The deal with the Kims had gone smoothly, better than expected, actually. It should’ve been a moment of satisfaction, of relief.

Instead, he just drowns himself in more work.

The hours blur together, his coffee going cold beside him as he moves from one task to another. Another meeting. Another report. Another email. The same routine, the same cycle.

It’s later than evening when a familiar voice interrupts the quiet hum of his office.

“So you’re really here.”

Jungkook glances up, his fingers still typing as Taehyung steps into his cabin, arms crossed, a deep frown on his face.

“Hey, hyung,” Jungkook greets, barely looking away from his screen.

Taehyung scoffs, shaking his head playfully. “I really didn’t believe it when Yuna said you were still in your cabin.”

Jungkook blinks, confused. “Why?”

Taehyung gives him a look like he’s the biggest idiot in the world. “Y/N must really love you to let you work even today. My wife—dude, she would’ve killed me.”

Jungkook hums absentmindedly, still typing, still lost in work. “Mmm.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, watching him for a second before letting out a chuckle. “Anyways, you’re still an asshole for working on your anniversary.”

Jungkook’s fingers freeze over the keyboard. The realization crashes into him all at once, like a punch to the gut, like ice spreading through his veins.

Fuck.

Jungkook’s fingers hover motionless over the keyboard.

His mind races to catch up with Taehyung’s words, but they don’t make sense. Not right away.

Anniversary?

No, that can’t be right. His brows furrow slightly as he glances at the date on his laptop screen.

November 22.

His wedding anniversary.

For a second, he just stares, as if the numbers might shift into something else, something that doesn’t prove what an absolute idiot he’s been. His heartbeat picks up, but his body doesn’t move. It’s like his brain refuses to register it fully, like if he doesn’t react, it won’t be real.

He’d forgotten.

Completely.

No hints, no reminders, no last-minute realization before heading out this morning. Just an entire day of emails, meetings, and a deal he had been so damn focused on that he hadn’t even spared a single thought for you.

His wife.

But—no, that can’t be right. He would’ve remembered. He should’ve remembered.

His jaw tightens, his mind scrambling for some excuse, some reason. anything to justify how this happened. But no matter how many ways he tries to twist it, the truth doesn’t change.

You had expected something. Of course you had. And Jungkook had given you nothing.

Taehyung’s voice barely registers now, his casual teasing just background noise to the way Jungkook’s pulse is starting to hammer against his ribs.

His wife. His love. His anniversary.

And he had let it pass him by like it was just another day.

How the fuck is he supposed to fix this?

Taehyung squints at Jungkook, waiting for some kind of reaction. When Jungkook stays quiet, his fingers frozen over the keyboard, Taehyung lets out a sharp laugh.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.” He leans forward, palms flat on Jungkook’s desk. “You just realized, didn’t you?”

Jungkook inhales deeply through his nose, his jaw tightening. “Hyung, not now.”

“Oh, no. Especially now,” Taehyung shoots back, shaking his head. “Damn, man. Y/N must really love you to put up with this shit.”

Jungkook doesn’t reply, his mind already spiraling. He checks the time—late. The entire day is gone. He’s spent hours sitting here, drowning himself in work while you—

Fuck.

He pushes his chair back abruptly, grabbing his phone and shoving it into his pocket. His coat is next, yanked from the back of his chair as he moves on instinct.

“Whoa, whoa.” Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “So now you care?”

Jungkook levels him with a glare, his voice lower, sharper. “Hyung.”

Taehyung lifts his hands in surrender, though his smirk lingers. “Go. Try not to get divorced on your second anniversary.”

Jungkook doesn’t wait for another word. He’s already out the door, moving faster than he has all day.

And for the first time today, work is the last thing on his mind.

----

Jungkook’s mind races as he grips the steering wheel, his fingers tightening with every passing second. The city lights blur past, but all he can focus on is the suffocating weight in his chest.

How the fuck did he forget?

His phone vibrates in the passenger seat- probably another work email but for the first time in months, he ignores it. Instead, he swipes through his contacts, pressing the first name that comes to mind.

“Pick up, pick up,” he mutters, jaw clenched as the dial tone rings.

“Yes, Mr.Jeon?”

“Yuna.” His voice is rushed, urgent. “I need you to get me something. Flowers. A gift. Something big—just—fuck, anything.”

A pause. “Sir?”

“Now,” he snaps.

There’s a shuffle on the other end before his assistant hesitantly speaks again. “I…Mr.Jeon, it’s almost 10 p.m. Most places are closed.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, raking a hand through his hair. Of course they are. Because he’s too fucking late.

His grip tightens around the wheel. “Just—check. Call whoever. I’ll pay whatever.”

“Understood,” Yuna replies before hanging up.

What the fuck is he even doing?

No expensive gift, no overpriced bouquet, no last-minute grand gesture can erase the fact that he forgot. That he spent an entire day drowning in work while you—his wife, his love, the woman who has stood by him through everything—sat at home, waiting for him to remember.

His hands clench the wheel.

How much had he missed? How much had he ignored?

And the worst part—the part that makes his pulse spike, that has panic clawing at his ribs is the question he doesn’t have an answer to.

What if you’re done waiting?

Jungkook slams his foot down on the gas.

He’s not losing you. He won’t.

----

Jungkook steps into the house, and immediately, something feels off. The air is still. The silence stretches, suffocating, pressing against his chest. Almost all the lights are off, the space eerily empty, like no one has been here for hours.

His throat dries. “Baby?”

No answer.

He frowns, dropping his keys onto the counter with a sharp clink. His feet move quickly, checking the kitchen, the living room, even the hallway leading to the bedroom. nothing.

A weird feeling starts creeping up his spine. His heart beats faster as he strides toward the bedroom door, only to find the bed untouched, the sheets exactly the way he had left them this morning.

You’re not here.

His pulse spikes, a cold sweat forming at the base of his neck. His hands tremble as he yanks his phone out, immediately dialing your number.

One ring.

Two rings.

Three.

Straight to voicemail.

His stomach drops. A shaky breath escapes him as he stares at his screen, the call log mocking him with the lack of response. His fingers tighten around the device, his mind spiraling.

Where are you? At this time of night, alone- where could you have gone?

The walls feel like they’re closing in on him. His lungs strain for air.

Then, another thought claws its way in, violent and unwelcome.

Did you leave?

No. No. His chest tightens, his breath coming faster now. That’s not—that’s not possible. You wouldn’t just leave him. You wouldn’t—

He swallows hard, shaking his head. Don’t go there, Jungkook. Don’t even fucking go there.

But the panic is already curling around his ribs, suffocating, unrelenting.

You’re not here. And right now, that is the worst fucking thing in the world.

Jungkook’s fingers tremble as he redials your number.

Voicemail. Again.

“Fuck.” His breath comes out uneven, panic clawing at his throat. His hands are clammy, his chest tightening with every passing second. Where are you?

His mind is spiraling now, every worst-case scenario flashing through his head. His jaw clenches as he swipes to his contact list calling your friends.

Each time, the same response.

No, I haven’t seen her.

Did you check with—

Wait, what’s going on?

Jungkook grits his teeth, his hand tightening into a fist. His breathing is shallow, his pulse out of control. You weren’t with your friends. You weren’t picking up. You weren’t home.

And he still had no idea where you were.

Jungkook grabs his car keys with shaky hands, his mind racing. He doesn’t know where to go, doesn’t have a plan. All he knows is that he has to find you.

His feet move on instinct, carrying him toward the door. But just as he reaches for the handle, something catches his eye.

A small glint.

His breath stills. His gaze shifts toward the couch, and that’s when he sees it.

Your wedding ring.

Sitting there. Abandoned.

For a moment, everything stops. The pounding in his chest, the rush of his movements. Everything.

The air in the room feels heavier, suffocating. His fingers twitch at his sides as he stares at the delicate band, his stomach twisting into something painful.

You never took it off. Never.

Jungkook swallows, his throat suddenly dry. He steps forward, slowly, almost cautiously, like touching it will somehow make this nightmare real.

His hand trembles as he picks it up, the cool metal pressing into his palm..

Jungkook stares at the ring in his palm, his vision blurring as a lump lodges itself in his throat. Tears burn at the corners of his eyes, his chest tightening painfully.

You wouldn’t just leave him like that… would you?

The thought alone knocks the air from his lungs. His grip on the ring tightens as his mind spirals, drowning in questions that only make the ache worse.

Were you thinking about this before today?

How long have you been feeling like this, so alone, so unloved that taking off your ring even crossed your mind?

A sharp breath escapes him, shaky and uneven. His knees buckle, and before he can stop himself, he’s sinking onto the floor, the weight of everything crashing down at once.

The ring feels heavier than it should, pressing into his palm like a cruel reminder of everything he’s neglected, everything he’s taken for granted. He squeezes his eyes shut, exhaling a slow, trembling breath.

He needs to find you. He needs to fix this.

Before it’s too late.

Jungkook exhales shakily, forcing himself to move. His legs feel unsteady, but he pushes through, gripping the wedding ring so tightly it bites into his skin.

Somehow, he manages to stand, his entire body tense with desperation. He stumbles toward the door, his heart pounding, his mind racing with every possibility of where you could be.

But just as his fingers reach for the handle—

The door swings open.

And there you are.

Jungkook freezes, his breath catching in his throat. For a split second, everything stills. His panic, his thoughts, his entire world narrowing to the sight of you standing in front of him.

In the blink of an eye, he moves.

He crashes into you, arms wrapping around you so tightly it nearly knocks the air from your lungs. His grip is desperate, his hands fisting into your clothes, his entire body pressing against yours like he’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You stand there, stunned, your own arms hovering slightly, unsure of what just happened.

"…Jungkook?” your voice comes out confused, hesitant.

But he just clings to you, burying his face into your neck, his breath warm and uneven against your skin.

You don’t know what’s going on.

But Jungkook?

He feels like he just got his heart beating again. You feel the way his body trembles against yours, his grip impossibly tight, like he’s holding onto you for dear life.

Then, the sound reaches you. A broken, uneven breath, followed by the unmistakable hitch of a sob.

Your heart clenches. “Kook…” Your voice is soft, laced with worry as you try to pull back, just enough to see his face. But he doesn’t let you. His arms only tighten, his body curling into yours, as if letting go would physically hurt him.

Panic bubbles in your chest, your hands instinctively reaching up to cradle his face, your fingers threading into his hair. “Hey… what happened?” Your voice wavers slightly. “Are you okay? You’re scaring me.”

But Jungkook just shakes his head against your shoulder, another quiet, shaky breath leaving him.

You don’t understand.

But whatever this is, whatever’s breaking him like this—your own heart aches just watching him fall apart. Your concern deepens with every shaky breath that leaves Jungkook. He’s still clinging to you, his body trembling slightly, his face buried against your shoulder like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t know what’s wrong, but seeing him like this—Jungkook, your Jungkook—completely unraveling, is enough to make panic rise in your chest.

Gently, you pull back, your hands cupping his face. His skin is warm, slightly damp from his tears, and when his glassy eyes finally meet yours, your stomach twists painfully.

“Come inside,” you whisper, your voice softer now, coaxing. “Please.”

He swallows thickly, nodding ever so slightly, but his grip on you doesn’t fully loosen. You guide him inside anyway, one hand wrapped around his wrist as you lead him toward the couch.

He sits down heavily, elbows resting on his knees, fingers threading through his hair as he exhales shakily. His shoulders are still tense, his whole body radiating something raw and unspoken.

You kneel in front of him, reaching for his hands, but he doesn’t lift his head.

Your worry deepens. “Jungkook… please tell me what’s wrong.” Silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating. His fingers twitch against his temples, his breath uneven.

“I—” His voice is hoarse, cracking slightly. He swallows hard, gripping his knees. “I thought you left me.”

You blink, his words settling in, but it takes you a moment to fully process them.

He thought you left him?

Your brows furrow slightly as you shake your head. “Jungkook, I was babysitting Hanuel.”

His breath is still uneven, his hands gripping his knees like he’s trying to ground himself. His eyes flick up to meet yours, confused, searching.

“Hana and Seokjin had a date night,” you explain gently. “They asked me to watch him for a few hours.”

Hanuel, your neighbour's son. Jungkook stares at you, his body still tense, like his mind hasn’t caught up yet. You watch as his lips part slightly, his gaze flickering between you and the ring still clutched in his hand.

His fingers tighten around it, his knuckles paling. A beat of silence passes before he swallows thickly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“…Then why was this on the couch?”

The question hangs heavy in the air, fragile and uncertain, as if he’s afraid of the answer. And for the first time tonight, you don’t know what to say.

“I…” The word barely escapes your lips before you stand up, turning away from him. You can’t meet his eyes, not when your emotions are still raw, not when the weight of everything is pressing so heavily on your chest.

Jungkook notices immediately. Panic flickers across his face, and in an instant, he’s scrambling up after you. “Wait—baby, please.” His voice is desperate now, thick with emotion, his hands reaching out like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he breathes, stepping closer, his tone cracking under the weight of his own guilt. “I—fuck, I forgot—I don’t know how, I don’t even have an excuse, but—” He exhales sharply, shaking his head, his eyes glassy as they plead with yours.

“I never meant to make you feel like this,” he whispers. “I swear, I didn’t.” But you still don’t look at him. And that alone is enough to make his heart sink.

You swallow hard, your arms wrapping around yourself as you stare at the floor. His words, his desperation, his guilt—they all swirl around you, but they don’t erase the ache in your chest.

“Do you even realize how much this hurt?” Your voice is quiet, but the weight of it makes Jungkook flinch. “I spent the entire day thinking—hoping—that maybe you had something planned. That maybe you were just pretending to forget.”

Jungkook’s throat bobs as he steps closer, hesitating before reaching for your hand. You don’t pull away, but you don’t hold onto him either.

“I know,” he whispers. “I know I fucked up, baby. I—I was so caught up in work, I just…” He trails off, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That’s not an excuse. Nothing is. I should’ve remembered. I should’ve been there.”

You let out a hollow laugh, finally lifting your gaze to meet his. “Jungkook… this isn’t just about today.”

His brows furrow, but he doesn’t interrupt.

You take a shaky breath. “It’s been weeks..maybe even longer—since I felt like your wife instead of just… someone waiting for you to come home.” Your voice wavers, but you push through. “And it’s not that I don’t understand. I do. I’ve always understood. But at what point do I stop being understanding and start being invisible to you?”

Jungkook’s breath catches, his grip on your hand tightening like he’s afraid to let go. “You’re not invisible,” he says, voice thick with emotion. “You never could be.”

“Then why do I feel like I am?”

Silence.

Jungkook shakes his head, his jaw clenching as he exhales unsteadily. “I never wanted to make you feel this way,” he murmurs. “You are everything to me, baby. Everything. I don’t even know who I am without you.”

Your eyes sting, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. “Then show me, Jungkook. Because I can’t keep being the only one fighting for us.” The vulnerability in your voice nearly breaks him.

He’s been losing you, piece by piece, for a while now. And he hadn’t even noticed.

Jungkook feels his stomach drop, the weight of your words hitting harder than any argument, any fight you could have thrown at him. His grip on your hand tightens, but you don’t squeeze back.

He’s losing you.

And it’s not because of one forgotten anniversary—it’s because he hasn’t been here.

He swallows hard. “Baby…” His voice cracks, his free hand reaching up to cup your cheek, but you step back before he can touch you.

The distance, however small, is enough to make his chest ache.

“Tell me, Jungkook,” you whisper, your voice barely holding together. “When was the last time we sat down and had breakfast together? When was the last time you really looked at me—not just kissed me on the forehead before rushing out the door?” You shake your head, a bitter chuckle escaping. “When was the last time we made love without it feeling like you were trying to release your stress instead of loving me?”

Jungkook’s breath hitches.

You let out a slow exhale, your voice calmer now but even heavier with hurt. “I don’t need grand gestures. I don’t need fancy gifts or a picture-perfect romance. I just… needed you to see me.”

His entire body feels cold. Because the truth is—he doesn’t have an answer.

He’s been so caught up in his responsibilities, his work, his stress, that he’s let the one person who has always been there for him slip through his fingers.

And the worst part? He didn’t even realize it was happening until now.

“Fuck.” His voice is raw, his hands running through his hair as he looks at you, really looks at you. At the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your lips tremble slightly like you’re holding back everything.

His heart clenches painfully. “I fucked up, didn’t I?”

You don’t answer right away. Instead, you hold his gaze for a long moment before whispering, “I don’t know, Jungkook. Did you?”

Jungkook's breath is unsteady, his chest rising and falling too quickly as he stares at you, at the distance between you, the weight of your words suffocating him.

He moves. Before you can react, his hands are cupping your face, his touch desperate, almost shaky. His forehead presses against yours as he exhales a trembling breath, like he’s trying to hold himself together.

“I see you,” he whispers, his voice raw, strained. “I swear to god, I see you, baby. I just..I lost myself somewhere along the way, and I didn’t even realize I was dragging us down with me.”

His thumbs brush over your cheekbones, a silent plea laced in his touch. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t lose you.”

Your heart clenches, but you don’t push him away. You should- you should make him sit with this, make him feel what it’s been like for you all this time. But then his grip tightens, his voice breaking.

“Please, baby.” His lips hover just above yours, not quite touching, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me it’s not too late.”

His vulnerability shakes you to your core.

You close your eyes, inhaling deeply, trying to steady yourself. “I don’t want to lose us either, Jungkook,” you whisper. “But I can’t keep being the only one holding on.”

Jungkook shakes his head instantly. “You’re not. You won’t be.” His lips ghost over your forehead before he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes. “Let me prove it to you. Please.”

His desperation is tangible, seeping into every word, every touch. And for the first time tonight, you wonder if maybe, just maybe—he really does see you now.

Jungkook watches you, searching for something—anything in your eyes that tells him he hasn’t completely lost you.

Before doubt can settle in, he takes your hand, pressing it over his chest, right where his heart is hammering wildly. “Feel that?” he whispers. “That’s what you do to me, baby. Always.”

Your fingers twitch against his shirt, but you don’t pull away. You don’t move at all, just staring up at him, your expression unreadable.

He swallows hard. “I know I don’t say it enough. I know I don’t show it enough, but fuck, Y/n—” His hands tighten around yours, his voice barely above a breath. “There is nothing in this world that matters more to me than you.”

You let out a slow exhale, your gaze flickering, like you want to believe him. like a part of you does, but the hurt is still too fresh. So he gives you more.

“I’ll fix this,” he promises, his thumb brushing soft circles over your wrist. “Not with flowers, or gifts, or some last-minute bullshit—but with me. With us.”

His voice drops lower, thick with emotion. “Just tell me it’s not too late.” Your lips part slightly, but you don’t speak. Instead, you finally—finally press your palm flat against his chest, feeling the way his heart beats erratically beneath your touch.

It’s enough to break something inside Jungkook. His grip tightens as he leans in, his lips brushing against your temple, then your cheek—slow, hesitant, as if he’s still afraid you’ll slip away.

And when you don’t, when you let him, he exhales a shaky breath, his forehead resting against yours once more.

“I love you,” he whispers. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

Like if he says it enough, he can make up for all the times he didn’t. And maybe, just maybe—you’ll believe him again.

Jungkook’s breath is warm against your skin, his forehead still pressed against yours, his grip on you unwavering. His words linger in the air between you. raw, desperate, filled with a love that had always been there, even when he’d failed to show it.

You swallow hard, blinking against the tears clouding your vision. He’s waiting—watching you so intently, so hopelessly, as if your next words will either put him back together or completely shatter him.

You take a shaky breath. “Jungkook…” Your voice wavers, and his grip tightens instinctively. “I love you too.”

A sharp exhale leaves him, his entire body sinking slightly in relief. But before he can say anything, you continue. “But this hurt,” you whisper. “More than you realize.”

Jungkook stiffens, nodding quickly, his hands cupping your face again, his thumbs brushing away the tears that slip down your cheeks. “I know, baby. I know. And I hate myself for it.” His voice cracks, his jaw clenching before he presses a lingering kiss to your forehead.

You let your eyes flutter shut for a second, exhaling slowly. “I don’t want promises, Jungkook,” you murmur. “I just… I need to feel like I matter to you again.”

His hands tremble slightly as they slide down, wrapping around yours. He lifts them to his lips, pressing gentle, reverent kisses to each of your knuckles, his dark eyes never leaving yours.

“You do,” he whispers. “More than anything. And I’m going to spend every damn day proving that to you.” His voice is steady now. no hesitation, no doubt. Just quiet, determined love. And though the ache in your chest hasn’t fully faded, something shifts.

Because this time, you don’t just hear him. You believe him. Even if just a little.

Jungkook presses another lingering kiss against your knuckles, his touch reverent, as if grounding himself in you. But before he can lose himself completely, you gently murmur, “Have you eaten?”

The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. He shakes his head, gaze still searching yours. “No… I—"

“Go freshen up,” you say softly, stepping back just a little. “We’ll eat together.”

His fingers twitch against yours, hesitating to let go, but eventually, he nods. With one last glance—like he’s making sure you’re really here, he pulls away and heads toward the shower.

While he’s gone, you move to the kitchen, setting out dinner in quiet contemplation. The ache in your chest hasn’t completely faded, but there’s something else now- a warmth that wasn’t there before.

----

By the time Jungkook emerges, hair damp, dressed in a fresh t-shirt and sweatpants, you’ve already placed the food on the table.

He hesitates for only a second before joining you, sliding into his chair. “Thank you,” he murmurs, voice softer now.

You nod, offering a small smile as you take a seat. The conversation is light, effortless. Jungkook fills the silence, stealing glances at you like he’s still memorizing you all over again. And through it all, his hand never leaves yours, his thumb rubbing slow, soothing circles against your skin.

After dinner, he helps with the dishes, working beside you in quiet understanding. The air between you feels lighter, yet still fragile, like something delicate being pieced back together.

Jungkook sets the last dish onto the drying rack, wiping his hands on the towel before turning to you. There’s a soft, almost hopeful look in his eyes, like he’s clinging to this moment.

You step away, hesitating for just a second before opening the refrigerator. Jungkook watches in silence as you carefully pull out the cake, placing on the counter, your fingers grazing the edges of the plate, before finally speaking.

“I…I’d made this.”

The words are quiet, but they hit harder than any raised voice ever could. Jungkook’s entire body stiffening as guilt crashes into him all over again. His eyes flicker to the cake- to the careful details, the effort, the thought you had put into it, for him. And suddenly, it feels like the walls are caving in.

His throat tightens. His fingers curl at his sides. He can’t look at you. He doesn’t deserve to. Tears gather in his eyes, blurring his vision, his heart breaking all over again, not just because he forgot today, but because he had broken you in so many ways without even realizing it.

And that? That’s something he doesn’t know how to forgive himself for.

“Jungkook..”, your voice barely above a whisper, but it cuts through the heavy silence like a knife.

He wants to look at you, wants to say something—anything, but he can’t. His head remains bowed, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, as if holding himself together takes everything in him.

You take a small step forward, the space between you feeling larger than it actually is. His silence is deafening.

“Jungkook,” you say again, a little firmer this time.

His lips part, a shaky breath slipping through, but no words come out. He wants to speak, to apologize again, to tell you how much he loves you, to somehow fix this- but his throat feels tight, his chest heavy.

He doesn’t know if words are enough.

“I… I’m so fucking sorry, baby,” Jungkook chokes out, his voice trembling as he finally speaks. His hands shake at his sides, his eyes still glassy with unshed tears. “I’ve been an asshole—a terrible husband. I don’t even know how to make this right.” His breath stutters, his words spilling out faster now, raw and desperate.

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you left me,” he continues, shaking his head. “You should’ve. You deserve better. I—I can’t believe I—”

“Jungkook.”

You don’t let him finish.

Instead, you reach up, cupping his face with both hands, your thumbs brushing away the tears that have already begun to fall. His lips part in surprise, his rambling cut off as you rise onto your toes.

A gentle kiss on his lips.

Soft. Loving.

Tear-streaked and real.

Jungkook exhales shakily against your lips, his whole body melting into yours. His hands find your waist, holding onto you like you’re the only thing keeping him upright.

The kiss is slow, there's no desperation, no urgency. Just you and him, emotions bare. Tears continue to slip down your cheeks, mixing with his, salty and warm, but neither of you pull away. Because in this moment, there’s no need for words.

Just this.

Just love.

When you finally pull away, your forehead rests against his, both of you breathing heavily, your tears still wet against each other’s skin. Jungkook’s grip on your waist is firm, like he’s grounding himself in your touch, afraid to let go. His lips part, like he wants to speak, but before he can, you whisper,

“You’re not a terrible husband, Jungkook.”

Jungkook’s eyes glisten with more unshed tears, his lips pressing into a thin line, unable to speak. You wipe his tears away with your thumbs, offering him the smallest smile. “Just… love me better, okay?”

His throat bobs as he swallows hard, nodding again, more determined this time. “I will.” His voice is barely above a whisper, but you believe him.

You press one last gentle kiss to his cheek before stepping back, glancing at the cake still sitting on the counter. “Come on,” you say, nudging him lightly. “Let’s cut this before it melts.”

Jungkook lets out a breathy chuckle, wiping at his face as he nods. He steps beside you, his hand instinctively finding yours again as you both move toward the small cake. The two of you cut into it together, Jungkook’s fingers lacing through yours around the knife handle. He doesn’t let go, even as you both take small bites in comfortable silence.

Once the plates are cleared, you tug at his wrist, nodding toward the bedroom. “Come to bed?”

Jungkook exhales, relief washing over his features as he nods. “Yeah.”

A few minutes later, you’re both under the covers, warmth surrounding you as Jungkook pulls you against his chest. His arms wrap tightly around you, his breath fanning against the top of your head as he whispers,

“I love you.”

This time, you don’t hesitate to say it back.

“I love you too, Jungkook.”

And for the first time in weeks, you fall asleep in his arms, where you’ve always belonged.

Jungkook’s fingers still tremble against your skin. Even as he holds you, his grip is laced with hesitance, a silent fear lingering beneath the warmth of his touch. It’s in the way his hands press into your back yet remain careful, as if he’s afraid of holding on too tightly.

You can feel the erratic thud of his heart beneath your palm, his breaths uneven, his chest rising and falling as if he’s struggling to keep himself steady.

And something about that, about him—makes your own heart ache.

Slowly, you lift your head from his chest, your eyes locking onto his in the dim glow of the room. His lips part slightly, his gaze unreadable, but the moment you lean in, his breath catches.

You kiss him.

It starts soft, so gentle, full of longing. Filled with everything you can’t put into words.

Jungkook melts into it instantly, his grip on you tightening, pulling you impossibly closer. The warmth of his lips, the slight hitch in his breath when you press harder. It sends a familiar heat curling through you.

The kiss deepens, your fingers gripping his t-shirt with urgency, needing to feel more. It’s desperate, heady, the space between you charged with something deeper than just want—something raw, something that had been missing for too long.

Jungkook pulls back gently. His forehead stays pressed against yours, both of you panting softly, but his hands shake slightly as they hold you in place.

His lips part, his breath uneven. “I… we shouldn’t…” He swallows hard, voice thick with hesitation. “I mean… I don’t want you to think I’m gonna fix this with sex.”

His words cut through the haze of warmth between you, grounding you both back in reality. You understand. Because even now—even now, he’s afraid. Afraid that this isn’t enough. Afraid that he isn’t enough.

Your eyes soften as you take in his hesitance, the uncertainty in his gaze, the way his breath trembles against your skin.

You reach up, your fingers threading gently through his hair. “I’m never gonna think like that, Kook,” you murmur, your voice quiet but sure.

His lips part slightly, his brows still knitted in concern, but before he can say anything, you lean in again. This time, the kiss is softer, filled with nothing but love.

You linger for a moment, your lips brushing against his as you whisper, “I just… I need you.” Another soft kiss. “Please.”

Jungkook exhales sharply, his entire body shuddering under the weight of your words.

And just like that, whatever hesitation he had left—it’s gone.

Your breaths grow uneven as your lips move against his, the heat between you intensifying with every passing second.

Jungkook shifts, his body hovering over yours, his weight pressing down just enough to make you feel him. His hands slip beneath the oversized t-shirt you’re wearing, his touch still hesitant, fingertips ghosting over your waist like he’s memorizing the feel of you all over again.

But you don’t want hesitation.

You tug at his shirt, a silent plea, and Jungkook obeys without question, pulling it over his head and tossing it aside. Before he can think, you pull him back in, capturing his lips in another deep, hungry kiss.

A quiet groan escapes him, his hands finally exploring freely, pressing against your skin, feeling the warmth beneath his palms. His lips leave yours only to trail down your neck, his breath warm as he presses soft, lingering kisses there.

You shiver when he reaches the collar of your shirt, your own hands moving to help him remove it. Dark, love-filled eyes roam over every inch of your skin, his lips parting slightly, as if he’s trying to find the words but nothing he could say would ever be enough. Still, he tries.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, voice thick with awe. “So fucking perfect.”

Your breath catches when he lowers himself again, his lips planting soft, reverent kisses along your collarbone, trailing lower over your shoulder, your chest. Your husband's mouth mapping you like you’re something sacred.

His lips slowly wrap around one breast, his tongue flicking teasingly before sucking softly. A moan escapes you, your fingers tangling into his hair, tugging lightly as he hums against your skin. His other hand moves to your neglected breast, his thumb brushing over the sensitive peak as he keeps mouthing sweet nothings against you.

“You’re everything,” he whispers between kisses, his voice muffled against your skin. “I love you so much, baby.”

And as the heat between you builds, his touch grows bolder. A desperate whimper escapes your lips as your fingers tangle deeper into Jungkook’s hair, your body arching toward him, silently pleading for more.

He groans against your skin, the sound low and warm, vibrating through you. “Patience, baby,” he murmurs, pressing another lingering kiss to your chest before trailing lower, his lips tracing the curves of your body. “Let me take my time… let me make love to you.”

The way he says it, love—makes your stomach tighten, your heart aching as much as your body craves him. His hands glide down your waist, slow and purposeful, before slipping between your legs. His fingers find the damp fabric of your panties, pressing just lightly enough to make you gasp. Your hips lift instinctively, chasing his touch, and Jungkook groans at the feeling.

His dark eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission. You nod, unable to form words, and that’s all he needs.

Hooking his fingers into the waistband, he tugs your panties down, dragging them slowly along your legs before discarding them somewhere behind him. His gaze never leaves you as he lowers himself further, trailing kisses down your stomach, over the sensitive skin of your hips.

He settles between your legs. You feel completely bare under his intense gaze, the way his lips part slightly, his eyes darkening as he drinks you in.

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, his voice filled with something reverent, something devoted. His hands spread your thighs wider, his thumbs brushing along your skin in slow, soothing circles.

“My wife.”

The words send a shiver down your spine, making your core clench in anticipation.

Finally, he closes his mouth around you. One long, slow stroke of his tongue, and you fall apart instantly, a breathless moan slipping from your lips as your head tilts back against the pillows.

Jungkook hums against you, pleased, his hands gripping your thighs as he licks another slow, teasing stripe through your folds. “So fucking sweet,” he groans, the heat of his breath against your slick skin making your body tremble. “Gonna make you feel so good, baby.”

He isn't just making love, he's devouring you.

Jungkook hums against you, the vibration sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine. His hands grip your thighs, holding you open as his tongue moves with slow, deliberate strokes. learning you all over again, savoring every little gasp and shudder that escapes you.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, almost pleading, your fingers tightening in his hair, tugging him closer.

He groans at that, the sound reverberating through your core as he laps at you with more purpose. His tongue flicks over your clit, teasing, testing, before he sucks gently, making your back arch off the bed.

“Fuck—” You whimper, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but his strong hands keep you spread wide, completely at his mercy.

His lips brushing your sensitive skin as he pulls back just enough to look up at you. His lips are slick, his dark eyes burning with desire.

Your cheeks burn, he dives back in, this time with more urgency. His tongue moves in tight circles, alternating between slow, teasing strokes and deeper, firmer licks that have your breath hitching.

One hand slides up your stomach, fingers splaying across your skin before reaching your breast, rolling a nipple between his fingers. The combined sensation makes your thighs tremble, a moan tearing from your lips as your hips buck against his mouth.

Jungkook groans, clearly enjoying how responsive you are, his grip on you tightening as he eats you out like it’s his last meal. He flicks his tongue over your clit again, then sucks, harder this time, sending sparks shooting through your body.

“-fuck, Jungkook—” Your head tilts back, eyes squeezing shut as the pleasure builds, coiling tight in your stomach.

He pulls back just enough to murmur against you, “You gonna cum for me, baby?”

The heat inside you is unbearable now, hot and consuming. You nod desperately, your moans spilling freely as you grip his hair, your body teetering on the edge. Jungkook doesn’t stop. He pushes you closer, his mouth working you over with expert precision, his hands holding you steady as your body starts to tremble.

“Come for me, baby,” he whispers against your heat. “Let me taste you.”

And with one final flick of his tongue, you shatter. Pleasure crashes over you, your back arching, thighs trembling as you moan his name like a prayer. Jungkook groans, drinking in everything you give him, his hands stroking your body as he helps you ride it out.

Only when your body goes slack does he finally pull away, pressing soft kisses against your inner thighs, his voice thick with pride and adoration. “You’re so perfect,” he breathes between kisses, his voice thick with adoration. “My love. My wife.”

Jungkook moves up, trailing kisses along your body, over your stomach, your ribs, your collarbone. When he reaches your lips, he captures them in a deep, languid kiss, his hands cradling your face like you’re something fragile, something cherished.

Your fingers roam over his chest, tracing the lines of his muscles before moving lower, brushing over his abdomen until you reach the hardness straining against his sweats.

A groan rumbles from his chest at your touch, his hips twitching into your palm as you cup him, feeling just how ready he is.

“Baby…” he breathes against your lips, voice thick with want. You tug at the waistband of his pants, wordlessly asking for more. Jungkook obliges, sitting back just enough to push them down, kicking them off entirely.

He’s fully hard, the sight of him making your stomach tighten, heat pooling between your legs again. But before you can even reach for him Jungkook takes your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. The intimacy of it overwhelming.

His other hand moves between your bodies, guiding himself to your entrance, his eyes locked on yours, searching, making sure-

With a final nod from you, he pushes in, slow and careful, stretching you inch by inch.

A soft moan escapes your lips, but Jungkook kisses you instantly, swallowing the sound, his own groan muffled against your mouth as he sinks deeper. The moment he’s fully inside, he stills, pressing his forehead to yours, breathing you in. And as he holds you close, as your bodies mold together so seamlessly, you realize- this isn't just sex.

This is home.

Jungkook moves slowly, each roll of his hips deep and deliberate, as if he’s trying to make up for every moment he let slip away. His body is pressed flush against yours, warmth seeping into every inch of your skin, his breath shaky against your lips as he kisses you between each movement.

Your fingers dig softly into his back, nails pressing just enough to ground yourself in the overwhelming sensation of him. One hand moves to his hair, your fingers threading through the strands, tugging gently as his lips travel from your mouth to your jaw, down your neck, planting soft, lingering kisses that make your heart ache.

It’s slow, it’s deep, it’s love.

And then, suddenly, you feel it.

A faint tremble against your body.

Something warm and wet against your neck where Jungkook has buried his face.

Your breath catches as realization dawns- he’s crying. Tears gather in your own eyes without warning, the sheer weight of the moment crashing over you all at once.

You tighten your hold on him, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you press a soft kiss into his hair. “Kook…” you whisper, your voice barely holding steady.

He shudders at your touch, at the way you hold him, like you’re not just letting him fall apart but falling apart with him.

“I—” His voice cracks as he exhales shakily, his thrusts faltering for a moment. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His lips find your shoulder, his breath warm against your skin as he presses kisses there—apology after apology, praise after praise.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmurs between kisses, his words thick with emotion. “You always have been.” A tear slips down your cheek as you cup his face, guiding him up until his forehead rests against yours.

“I know,” you whisper, voice trembling. “I know, Jungkook.”

His lips crash against yours again, the kiss slow and deep, his movements resuming, gentle but full of something raw, something unspoken. His hands grip your waist tighter, his body moving in perfect sync with yours, as if this moment is rewriting everything.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper, voice laced with love. “I’ll always have you.”

Jungkook shudders, gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your shoulder, his movements slowing but never stopping. You can feel the love in every touch, every kiss, every whispered breath against your skin.

And when the pleasure builds to its peak, you come undone together, your bodies melting into one as waves of warmth crash over you. His name spills from your lips, his deep groan following right after, his arms holding you so tight you swear he never plans on letting go.

Silence lingers, only the sound of heavy breathing filling the space. Then, Jungkook shifts, lifting his head just enough to press the softest kiss to your lips.

“I love you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse but full of devotion. “I don’t deserve you… but I swear, I’ll spend my life proving that I do.”

You cup his face, your thumb brushing away the remnants of dried tears. “Just love me like this, Jungkook,” you whisper, voice steady. “That’s all I need.”

His hands tightening around you as his forehead presses against yours. “I’ll love you more,” he vows, his voice breaking slightly. “More than this, more than anything. Always.” His words settle deep in your chest, warm and real, and when he pulls you impossibly closer, tucking you into his arms, you believe him.

His heartbeat is steady now, no longer frantic with fear. Just warm, solid, home.

As sleep begins to pull you under, you hear him whisper one last thing against your hair.

“Happy anniversary, baby.”

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

[sleepy-fiction]

• liberation | jinx smut

jinx x f!reader | 4,206 words

syn: jinx finally finds her admirer, the artist behind all her grand murals. the spearhead behind her becoming a symbol. she can't find a better way to say thanks than but to kill her. but it seems repressed feelings spring out when her admirer reveals she wants jinx in other ways.

tags: cunnilingus, fingering, abrupt ending, asphyxiation, more plot than porn

an: I started writing this back in February. I've finally gone around to cleaning this up!! I had been holding it off for months bc I couldn't finish it, so I decided to clean it and post it

Being Jinx's admirer was nothing short of a difficult task. But it was all in-compassing, enthralling. Her essence shaped and molded your very being. You were trapped in the audience, clapping at the stage of her self-destructive encore, aware of the danger yet, you find yourself the shell-shocked looker drenched with prophetic blood.

You painted her, you professed poems in her name, you hid her in all your creations, and found her in all of your favorite melodies. She's what made your art so popular in the undercity, and for your Piltie persona, the hidden flickers of blues and's could be found hidden in your work. You were inspired, she was a symbol.

To Jinx, you were a mysterious, weird fucking threat. You always knew where she would be going. You had her on the clockwork, as you drifted to and fro to her likely destination. It was only chance when you'd spot her, rare and few. But Jinx was paranoid. Those were rare and a few times too many.

The art, the murals.

She's seeing her face painted so... Angelical, so destructive, so... Intuned with her. It's like magic, it's moving. It makes her feel- and she cannot stop this feeling- therefore, it was nothing short of dangerous.

She's preventing you, and your gorgeous art from disappearing. She's staying away, despite knowing how desperate you, her little admirer, are.

The further you are from her, the safer things are.

But she catches herself late at night, climbing to the top of water towers to ogle at your work. The way you have her posed, she always subconsciously poses that way in front of it, wanting to see if that's what she really looks like. Or worse, she'll close her eyes and imagine she's there in your painting, just as you depicted her. Imagine her feeling the array of colors you have her plastered in, and the wave of emotions drawing from it.

These are her most vulnerable moments. She's not Jinx or Powder. She's "The Girl On The Big Mural". Sometimes that girl is drawn with rough, dark colors, others, light, soft, and fluffy. It's weird how, when she's angry, she always flocks to your rough murals. When she's incredibly sad, she'll convince herself to get her favorite drink, which is bought by the bar next to your water tower mural.

She'll stare at them until dawn, lost in her own world, escaping off to her depicted self. One of the few times her brain feels quiet.

It's an embarrassingly intimate and humiliating ritual for Jinx. She gets to slip away, rarely, and few can she find that escape.

One day, the tables flip.

Instead of you stalking Jinx, Jinx somehow stalks you.

She had fallen asleep on that damn water tower, and when she awoke, she happened to catch a glimpse of you sneaking out of the bar and down the lanes. You were carrying paints with a frantic expression, lips parted in awe, eyebrows pinched down heavy, glossy tears in your eyes. There was this lingering frustration following you. However, you stomped down the wet, grimy streets. Groggy and intrigued, Jinx followed behind you.

She followed you down pipes and secret allies, deep underground, until you made it to this weird little cove pocket. It was a sort of dead-end from an abandoned pipe system. It had a crack for a ceiling that lit in through the top, the smallest glimpses of sunshine doused in. The space was covered in paint supplies, splotches of messy paint covering wooden floorboards (ones she's sure you put in), with a faint smell of pastels and charcoal.

You had a grand, paint-smothered desk in here, with a rickety bed and a pool of fresh water dribbling in. The walls were covered in various pretty sketches and murals, most of which were of her. Depicting her so graceful and sweet on one end by your bed, the others, a mixture of manic, destruction, fun, and powerful prowess. It makes her tense. It makes her flush. She's well-loved by you. She seems to shake with fear. There are abstract and non-her related canvases in various sizes sprinkled about, but she ignores them as her eyes are planted on you.

This home was marvelous.

Your own pocket, free from the world.

She didn't dare to step in, keeping her vantage point at the front, gripping paranoid nails deep into her braid.

She can hear you grunt, the echo in the space making your voice louder. You pull back a blanket from over a canvas far away. It faces your bed as you sit down on it, bringing your paints, sketchbook, and many more materials over to it as you sit.

Your face is flushed worse, a gulp slipping down your throat.

Jinx is intrigued.

She looks up. Pipes decorate the ceiling above just before the opening. There's one, sneakily upwards that wraps around the whole perimeter, it's stock and thick. She's sure it'll support her weight.

She needs to get closer.

She needs to see the painting that left you so breathless that made you frustrated, which made you make such a blissful face.

She jumps up stealthy, her footsteps soft and quiet under the dribble of leaky pipes, her balance cat-like. She makes her way over to your bed, crouching on her hands and knees as she peers forth at the painting.

Her heart drums at the sight.

The painting was pre-raphaelite in detail, with smooth, intimate hues of soft eggshell white bed sheets, with her, the pale-blue-haired subject posed upon them naked. You've painted everything except her crotch and breasts. There's this giant empty box that starts at her collarbones ends at her ribcage, then starts again beneath her belly button, just to end at the swell of her milky inner thighs.

She's posed with a relaxed, breathless expression. Her left hand up to softly touch her collarbone, a beautiful blue braid wrapped around it. The her you depicted was so calm, so serene, she was flavored with dangerous magenta eyes, sickly pale skin, and sullen eyebags. She had cuts and bruises from battles, she had her reckless tattoos, and dirt beneath her nails. Despite it all, despite all the inferred roughness of her life that's dancing in the subject, the ground was-- she was relaxed and happy in the moment.

She could be happy despite it all.

Jinx's nails dug sharply into the pipe, fear, trepidation, and panic swelling in her body. Her eyes glossed over in desire- in need of this false reality, her teeth bared in anger. You're so fucking horrible to her. None of this shit would ever be real.

How can you paint her so intimately, so organic and sensual as if nothing in the world could harm her when it is harming her. When things are harming her. As if she could overcome- move on. Be what the people need.

Stop showing her these.

She couldn't bear it. She can never be happy, she can never have these things.

She'll only ruin it.

So she'll stop it before you get any more bright ideas.

Jinx's flurry of stress drops eerily silent as she sits up. She leans forward, stealing out her gun, propping her free hand securely on the pipe as the other hones in a good shot by your head. She peers into her raggedy, dirty scope.

She can see how your hands tremble as you pick up your brush, as you go to paint in the swell of her breasts but are unable to, how you stop to fist clumps of the wife-beater you have on. How you clench the cloth right above your heart.

As if she's affecting you.

As if she could ever make someone feel that way.

As if she's worthy to.

All of her brain burns and cries out, voices echoing their pure rage, pure longing, singing over each other in this dangerous choir. She can see your own breasts in the shirt you're wearing. You've got no bra, and it compliments your pebbled, and infectiously hard nipples.

How you seem to shift and grind in your sitting. How you sweat, how you raise a paintbrush with a degenerate gasp to continue.

"Fucking loser," she hisses in her brain. Her scope drops down to where your legs part. She can't see your cunt but.

Her brain swells dangerously, her eyes snapping back open. Why would she think that? Why would you ever intrigue her? You're just another gift she can't have.

No.

You're a liar. A liar who paints these horrible stories to ruin her. To get her fucking weak so you can destroy her, get all the power that you want.

Her head shakes, glossy confused tears brimming up. She's aiming in your direction, no longer checking her aim, just aiming it at you. Her teeth clatter, her trigger finger hovering over the trigger. Her vision is lost, dissociation claiming its prize over her, at will to the swells of stress flowing in waves over her body.

Your intentions are evil.

The gun glows blue.

"Mmff," you grunt.

You're so fucking evil.

Her finger stutters when it makes contact with the trigger. A shot breaks through the air.

It's aimed right by your foot as it crashes into a can of blue paint, it bursts and oozes onto the floor.

You shoot up with a cry, "Aah!" And before you could even turn back towards the sound, magenta slices through the air, as Jinx appears on your bed behind you. There's no time to react as she lunges forward, sloppily trying to bang your head in with the hilt of her gun. You block it with your forearm, slapping it out in her hands surprisingly easily.

She growls and hisses like a deranged cat, throwing devilishly nailed hands toward your face, taking you down to the ground with her. You crash to the floor, your canvas clattering with you, you can feel the wet paint of Jinx's breasts against your back. The wood of the canvas creaks and cranes and the terror of your painting being destroyed crosses your body.

You're not really processing it. You're beneath Jinx, pawing her face away, freehand trapping her wrist as she does everything in her power to get to your neck. She's got this hellish look in her eyes, it overflows with hatred. And paired with her wails, "Fu--Fuck! Aah-haha! You liar-liar-liar pants off-- Pants off- you'd want that, you'd want that you- fire," She's nothing short of out of it.

It's almost beautiful.

Jinx.

Her pale skin, her face covered in soft freckles, while blue veins streak down from her wide, doe eyes. Her eyes are hammered down with pure rage, a violent shimmer-purple, with teeth bared and spit-covered as she snarls out needlessly. Her beautiful braids fly about in the tussle, they are just as gorgeous as ever. Her vibrant blues stick to her neck and face, swear ebbing in her forehead.

As pretty as she was, she was dangerous.

What's happening?

How is this happening?

How is she here?

Why is she mad?

She's incredibly fast, impossibly fast as she slaps a hand dead on your neck. You gasp for air, loosening your grip on her wrist, she takes that advantage and meets your neck with a mighty clap. She's got both hands around you now, her grip growing deadly tightly, deadly-- your deadly muse is choking you out.

There's nothing but joy in your belly. Joy and star-stricken awe overflow out into your mangled expression.

Jinx's face twitched in despair, but she stared down at you with wild eyes, never dropping her manic, mostly terrified, smile. She laughs with a dry and tangy cackle, "You're going to die-- But you look like you've seen heaven!" She tightens her grip. You arch, and cry out, trying your best to wiggle out, but still, your eyes keep flocking to her.

They never lose their joy.

It feeds her worse.

You're the worst threat, the hardest to kill.

"Hey-- Ya'know when you get up there... And get to see the big man upstairs... Tell 'em of what a sinner I've become... Say hi to my ol' Granny and Mamma, too," she hisses. She's nonsensical, nonsensical as her smile begins to fade and your face grows red. Nonsensical as her brows pinch up in fear, and glossy eyes widen in disbelief as your eyes roll your the back of your head.

Nonono.

She doesn't wanna do this.

Please she doesn't want this.

She can't stop now.

She.

Your hand flies up, it slaps against her cheek roughly at first, uncoordinated from lack of blood flow. But she doesn't care or notice, let alone wince as she locks her pink eyes into yours. You cup her face to the best of your abilities. Your eyes are overcome with empathy- and understanding. You stare dead into her shifty, shivering eyes.

Reassurance waves down her body as your knuckles caress her skin.

"Juh-- Jinn.... Juh-in-cks," your lips are blue.

She flies off you in an instant, and you gasp for air. In the moment, she falls back onto the floor, landing with a clumsy and painful bang. She shoots up onto her knees just as quick as she eats shit, her shoulder ringing with sharp pain. She hears you gasp and struggle beside her. She hears you stagger up.

She panics worse, and worse as she slips in the blue paint that prevents her from standing up. You're getting closer behind her, her eyes flicker to her gun. She crawls manically over to it, having just enough time to flip onto her back, aiming it dead at your chest as you crouch beside her.

You're still looking at her with that crazed look. Your hand is slapped over your throbbing neck, tears of pain pricking your eye but they only add to that fond gaze. That hopeful gaze.

She feels so small beneath you.

What are you going to do to her now? After all that she just did.

"I'm warning you- t-toots," she cocks her gun.

You blink needlessly, extending your free hand out to her. She flinches so hard at first. But then she only stares, stares with a sniffling nose at your open palm. She scrambles to sit up, staring up at you through her eyelids.

She looks so small.

It makes you feel crazy.

Crazy, as she softly takes your hand with a pouty gaze, crazy as you stand together. Crazy as she slaps self-conscious arms around her naked shoulders. Crazy as she half-assedly points at your painting.

It's smeared on the ground, blue paint smothering the edges. Her breasts have an almost Gaussian blur over them, the edges of the sheets were splattered with careless blue. You gasp softly.

"It's perfect," you whisper, voice deathly hoarse.

Now it's her turn to gasp. You drop everything to pick up the painting, rushing it towards your desk, tracking blue paint for every step. Jinx is close to your tail, grabbing your arm as you put it up with the rest.

"You can't leave it like that," she squeaks with disbelief, "It's not even finished."

You look at her, and your eyes flicker to her shirt.

Her face reddens at the implications of her words, and she tries to stammer. But you won't look up at her, carrying that same breathless, artsy, frustrated look from before. You cough sharply, she snaps out of your magic trance as you walk on over to your freshwater, cupping some in your hands as you slurp it up for your hoarse voice.

Jinx is left there, still standing there as she worriedly surveys her surroundings. She bites the inside of her cheeks. She feels like a teenager around you.

She's aware of how your back muscles look in your tank top, aware of how water dribbles down your lips and throat, aware of the sounds of every slurp you take. Her face reddens. You drew her naked.

Her hands lay themselves on her breasts.

You drawing her naked.

Her eyes worriedly fly around again. There are no threats here and that's exactly what makes her so stressed when it comes to you.

You get up again, and she flinches. You walk right back up to her and the painting, seemingly to smile at her before staring at it again. Jinx's heart drums in disbelief, disbelief as she states are your red and bruised neck. She spits out, "I was just about to kill ya', kid. G-Gonna do something about that or what? Or are you just," you move towards her as she speaks, "A-Are you just another one of those m-maniacs," you get in so close as if you're hunting her, "--w-who like...."

Her voice dies dry in her throat. Her lower back hits the table.

You're towering over her, watching as she slaps a hand over her chest, watching as her doe eyes flicker from each pupil of yours. She's trapped between your body, and as she goes to turn out of it, you cage a hand on the table on each side of her, forcing her to face you, forcing her into your trap. You get close, close enough for her to whimper, close enough for her hands to fidget with one another on her chest, close enough for her to shut her eyes.

You blow a teasing gust of air against her lips, she shakes and groans out deliciously.

Your eyelids haze over.

Your throat fucking burns.

She's killing you right now.

You blow against her lips again. She cracks them open with a tremble, teeth parting just slightly enough to reveal her tongue. She shyly begins to open her eyes, but it doesn't matter, as you dive into her mouth. Your teeth clash as you enter a kiss with her, pressing all of your body against her, as she sloppily rests her hands on your chest, feeling your breasts shamelessly.

What were you doing? She didn't know, she didn't know why her legs felt like jello, why she felt like clawing you, grabbing as much of your skin beneath her nails.

But she's a shit kisser. Shit as she interrupts your rhythm, shit as she breathes against your skin and tickles it, shit as she's uncoordinated with her tongue, devising just slapping the warmth thing against your teeth is simulating enough for you.

You grunt in annoyance. You hook hands on her ass as you pull her up and drop her on the desk, separating her legs with your body as you stand between them. You reach and grab her head, angling it just right for your tongue to berate her mouth. She moans and grunts into the kiss, her thighs squeezing against your body, her nailed hands pawing at your tank top.

She's forced to sink into your rhythm, cooperate with your tongue, and learn how to do it all right. And she's a quick learner, too. It doesn't take her too long to get the hang of your hungry, animalistic makeout. Soon enough, she's getting catty with it. Jinx gets catty as she slurps you all up overconfidently, as she pushes back against you to take control and forces you into her sensual, zealous rhythm.

She's realizing it now.

She wants this. She wants it like freshwater in the desert.

She wraps her legs around your hips, pulling you flush against her fluttering core. One of her legs arched like a ballerina, only it displayed her whorish excitement for more. She's catty as she wraps her arms over your shoulders, stretching them out limply, prodding her indexes together with a pleased hum.

As you pull back for a much-needed breath, she giggles sickly, leaning in to bite and pull at your lip. You grunt, desperate to keep restraint. You lean down, dropping your knee on the desk as you guide her to lay down on the desk, thrusting forward to push her up high on it. She gasps with need, but that overcomes as you attack her lips again.

She bucks up, desperate to create some friction on her needy core.

Jinx doesn't know it yet, but her brain has been eerily quiet. It was like everything else in the world had been shut off, but you and you didn't give her any chances for her mind to slip off to its usual hell. Not at all as you pieced off that skimpy top of hers in one go.

She aches into the cold air, her nipples already alert for the pecking. Her breasts were so damn tiny, her pink nipples tart and small. You pawed her little breasts, addicted to how the soft skin kissed your paint-covered palms, addicted to how the tattoo on her side included the side of her bug bites.

You groaned out at the sight, suddenly aware of how clothes seemed to restrain you.

Jinx chuckles as you lean her head back, guiding her ached chest toward your line of sight. She knows what's going to happen, but she stutters out to gain control, "Turned on by anthills? Geez, you really a freak fan."

She's insinuating so much with that sentence. You grunt in irritation, sliding out a warm hot tongue against her perky nipple. She moans out, the sound his hoarse and airy, more of a breath hitch than a proper pretty moan. You suck in the little bit of breast that she has into your mouth, playing with the milky skin with the curl of your tongue. You suck and release them, aiming her and your head towards her other one, sucking and nibbling her nipple.

Her fists tighten by her lap, but she allows herself to be limp in your hold. You have her upper body floating above the desk's top in a loose embrace. The back of her head rests in your palm, and her back leans her weight into the arm that's propped her up. Her legs have her core flush against you, and at this moment, she can't help but notice your strength. You're pretty strong for just a painter, but then again, in the undercity, you have to be.

She can't take it anymore, as she haphazardly grabs chunks of your hair, yanking your head back. You hiss, but you can't help but melt as you stare at her pouty cheeks, and big saucer eyes, as she drowns in bliss. "Mmhf' ta-toots... Don't get stuck here," she moans out. But instantly, she feels your energy shift. There's this dangerous aura shaping your body, as your eyes narrow sharply down on her.

She gulps. You release your hold on her as she rests back on the desk, nervous, anxious eyes following you as you rip off her gaudy pants. They peel off like butter, and you find the glorious Jinx wears no panties. You grunt at the sight. She's barely shaven, but even more so, you're surprised to find out her pubes are the same powder blue. You run an excited thumb down her trail, parting her lips with it, revealing her gorgeous vulva.

She's a bright, soft pink, thickly wet from slick. She sticks to your thumb like glue. Your body language shifts again, and her breath hits. Nothing can prepare her for the moment your lips finally meet her pussy, how her greedy hands grab chunks of your hair, how she gasps sharp and loud and begins to squirm.

Your hot, humid breath encapsulates her, her toes curling, yet you're only tasting her, only slowly dragging her swollen nub up your tastebuds. "Mmmh-- whoa ah," Jinx moans, her sounds are pitched and sharp.

Your hands grab her hips, pulling her upwards, her hips floating off the table, her legs wrapping vice around your head. She squeaks, "H-Hold o-oonh." But you don't listen, hammering her clit, sneaking between her labia, parting her up like the prize she was to you- to the city.

Jinx bucks into your lap, rocking her hips into your flat tongue. She's flying, wind lost from her lungs, panting yet never getting enough. Her stomach flutters, and before she knows it, her back arches off the table, and electricity spills out her body with a forced moan, "T-Tuh-toots!"

She's laid back down on the table with a final kiss to her clit.

You ask, "Your first time?" She came all too quick.

She shoots up, eyebrows pinched in annoyance, "Pff-- Pff! As if."

You barely let her finish, swallowing her confidence as you loom over her again, hands sliding down to her sweetness. Your finger slips right into her with ease, with no resistance as her wetness sucks you all the way in, as you curve it against her bladder. Your freehand grabs her thick braid, twirling it with a cocky glare, as you slip in your middle finger into her body. She clenches around you, walls pulsating.

You thrust into her steady, deep, and hard. The sounds of her wet, dramatic pussy echo across the room. Jinx's eyes fly behind her eyelids, mouth agape, her thighs clenching around your forearm. She's shamelessly moaning and bucking into every thrust, "Mmh-- Yes- like that..."

You'd freeze time to be here forever.

[alchemistc]

Dipping my foot in the mpreg pool to give you all:

They used a condom every time. Even after they'd gone to get tested, it was a fling for both of them, and it wasn't supposed to mean a damn thing.

Only Buck's three months along and Jason won't answer his calls.

Four months, and Cap sits him down and tells him at six he's gonna have to accept being man behind.

Five, and he runs into Jason at the supermarket and tells him he needs his family history. Jason looks spooked, but he overnights it to Buck's loft a week and a half later and Buck sends him a text letting him know he's off the hook.

Jason blocks his number.

Six, and Buck's back to stress baking, just at the firehouse now. He's not allowed to clean much, there aren't a lot of chemicals that are safe, and the probies from B shift bitch about it but they're not carrying a fucking bowling ball around.

At seven, Tommy rounds a corner with his face tipped behind him on a laugh and nearly runs smack into Buck.

When he turns back around he stops dead. Buck can see him doing the math, but even if he was ready to pop it wouldn't quite add up.

He saw Tommy on a call before he started showing and it was the most cordial interaction he's ever had with another firefighter.

---

They say hi. Tommy introduces him to his friend Henry. Buck gestures like he's got bigger plans than going home and eating a pint and a half of ice cream. They say goodbye.

---

Tommy calls him an hour later and asks if he can stop by.

---

"So he's just... not going to be involved?"

"He's twenty-five and a terrible person, so no. It was a fling. The sex was hot."

Tommy grimaces. "Do you need anything?"

"You got a spare bladder?"

---

At eight and a half they put Buck on bed rest and he throws an absolute fit about it. Eddie spends three days watching him furiously clean the loft with the natural shit he'd bought the day he saw those two lines. Hen threatens to bring Mara over to sit on him. Maddie listens to him rant for an hour and then brings him peanut butter banana toast with pickles in bed.

Tommy drops by with his massage gun and swears up and down he actually consulted an OB about which muscles it was safe to use on.

"How do you know an OB?"

Tommy looks shifty. "Do you want me to stay?" He ignores Buck's goggle eyes. Nods his head decisively. "I should stay."

---

Tommy camps out on his couch for two and a half weeks and already has the go-bag in his hands by the time Buck gets down the stairs.

Buck asks him if he wants to be in the room and despite the panicked look in his eyes, Tommy says yes.

---

"They asked me why I wasn't listed on the birth certificate," Tommy hisses, little baby Buckley dwarfed in his arms. He's been staring at her button nose for half an hour now, and Buck keeps trying to remind himself that this isn't permanent.

"What did you say?" Buck asks, genuinely curious.

Tommy's gaze is sad when it meets Buck's. "I didn't."

Like he can't quite help himself, he reaches a free hand in and boops her nose. She's out, though. She likes the sound of Tommy's voice.

Buck sighs. "She recognized you immediately." He's read the books. A million and two of them. Babies know the people that are around, the people that are close.

Amelia knows Tommy.

"It's not just me anymore, Tommy," he intones, and Tommy turns back up to look at him. Startled. Hopeful.

"I've been babyproofing my house like a lunatic for two months," he whispers, and Buck reaches out to rub a hand over the thin skin of Amelia's forehead before he catches Tommy's fingers in his own.

[lsunstreakerl]

part six of the maxiel corporate au! 2.1k words, alternating max POV and daniel POV.

there's actually not any explicit content here- it's a little bit more plot focused.

Max needs to get out of bed. He needs to get up, and shower, and eat something- but he's been thinking that on a loop for a few hours now, and still hasn't done anything.

He's not sure why he feels so off, but it's made him burrow further into the bed, wrapping his arms around one of his pillows, holding it to his chest.

He feels-

He's not sure. He's sore, and he's a little bit sad for no discernible reason. Last night had been good, even if Max doesn't distinctly remember the later part of the night- doesn't remember getting home, just knows he'd woken up with a sore ass and legs, work clothes dropped on the floor, wearing unfamiliar sweatpants.

He remembers the car ride, going into Daniel's condo- remembers his legs being held apart, Daniel's fingers inside of him- but after he'd started actually getting fucked is where things get hazy.

Waking up to a text from Scarlett letting him know he's got the day off had been confusing, and then mortifying, but Max is glad for it now- he doesn't think he'd do very good work today, not with the way he's feeling.

Normally he's one of the first ones to leave from his complex's floor. He knows that because their walls are paper thin, and they can all hear each other when someone drops something and swears. There's four of them on Max's floor- him and Rico have been here the longest, neighbors since their first year of uni. Martin moved in a few months after Max and Rico, and Isack is the newest- the baby of the floor, moved in last year as he started uni.

Max normally leaves first. Max also never misses work. He knows it, and he knows they know it too, which is why he's not terribly surprised when there's a knock on his door.

He doesn't want to get up and open it.

There's a few rattles of the handle, and then the somewhat familiar metallic noise of Rico just using his own key.

They'd figured out they had the same lock a few months into being neighbors after a drunken mishap, and now they're friends, so there's been no reason to change that.

Max lifts his head as he hears the front door open and shut. His flat isn't huge- a studio- so it only takes a moment for Rico to poke his head around the corner.

He always looks like a behemoth next to Max's things, but he's reassuring at the moment, green eyes watching Max with concern.

"Hey."

Max presses his lips together, dropping his head back onto the pillow.

"Hi."

Rico toes his shoes off as he makes his way over, snagging the Playstation controllers, and then he's poking at Max's side until he rolls, making space on the bed for Rico to crawl in next to him.

He settles, and then he's wrapping an arm around Max, pulling him into his side.

"FIFA?"

This is why Max and Rico are friends.

"FIFA."

------

Daniel is chewing on the end of his pencil when Blake walks in. He's carrying a chair, which means he's got something Daniel actually needs to pay attention to.

"Sir Friend, how can I assist you?"

Blake sets the chair down heavy on the floor, dropping into it across from Daniel.

"I think Netco is lying about their earnings somewhere- but I've had me and my people on it all damn day and we can't figure out where."

That's... not the kind of thing Daniel likes to hear.

"Well shit. What do you need from me?"

Blake's spinning his own pencil between his fingers, letting it drag over his knuckles.

"You mean you can't just magically figure it out? What are CEO's even for?"

Daniel laughs, leaning back in his chair.

"I mean, I could ask them point blank if they're lying, but..."

Blake snorts.

"I get the impression they wouldn't come clean now."

Daniel frowns. He's trying to think, looking back on his most recent meetings. Everyone's been friendly, but no one's been suspicious.

Oh, on that note-

"Damn, I guess that means that discrepancy didn't go anywhere then."

Blake pauses, pencil stilling.

"What discrepancy."

"Uh, the one Max mentioned? A couple days ago."

Blake makes a face.

"And it was up here, so obviously you didn't fucking ask him about it- Daniel, you can be infuriating sometimes. No, I didn't even know there was a discrepancy- that could be genuinely useful, you horny cunt."

Daniel holds his hands up in mock surrender.

"I assumed you guys were all on the same page!"

Blake pinches the bridge of his nose, breathes out a long sigh.

"Clearly not. Can you call him in?"

"Blake, mate, I gave him the day off. Be pretty shit of me to call him in."

Blake narrows his eyes.

"Be even shitter to get stuck in a bad deal. Think with your brain and not your dick, please."

Daniel makes a face, but he's clicking around, getting into Max's file to find his cell number.

He makes sure to punch it in correctly, and it rings for a moment. It's the late afternoon by now- Max should be fine.

"Max Verstappen's phone, can I take a message?"

Daniel's brain freezes. It's a male voice, deep and accented.

Thankfully, he's been doing this for so many years now that despite the fact that his brain is stalling, his mouth still works.

"This is Daniel Ricciardo- who am I speaking with?"

"Rico Verhoeven."

Daniel scrawls the name down absentmindedly.

"Hello Rico. Is Max available? It's a bit urgent."

"He can be- one moment."

Daniel catches the sound of some shuffling, and then for a moment he wonders if he's having a stroke- but it's just the faint murmurs of another language. He faintly hears Max on the end, a mumbled 'Rico?' That sounds soft and sleepy.

Daniel's not going to think about it.

There's another moment of shuffling, and then the phone is picked up again.

"This is Max speaking."

He still sounds drowsy, but it's definitely Max this time.

"Hey Max, it's Daniel. What'd you end up doing with that report the other day, with the merger discrepancy you mentioned?"

Max makes a sleepy hum.

"The copy stayed with you, sir. But I have a backup on my desktop I could reprint, if you need it."

"That would be great- do you need me to call you a car?"

"Uh- one second sir."

More soft murmurs- it's the other language again.

"I have a ride. I will be there in twenty minutes."

Daniel's grip on his pencil tightens for a moment.

"Sounds great. Tell Rico I said thanks- and he's more than welcome to come in and say hi."

Blake is giving him a very clear "what the fuck, Daniel" face, but he chooses to ignore it.

"Oh, uh- thank you sir. I will let him know you offered."

"See you in a few, Maxy."

Daniel hangs up, and Blake is arching an eyebrow at him.

"What the fuck, Daniel?"

------

It only takes Rico and Max fifteen minutes to arrive- Daniel and Blake are up on the fourth floor again, near the walkway. It has a good vantage point to the entryway on the ground level.

Daniel is lazily watching the door, but it's Blake that spots them first- chokes on a half laugh and then pats Daniel's shoulder consolingly.

"There's your fucking competition mate, jesus."

Daniel's eyes dart to the door, and then widen comically. There is a giant standing next to Max.

A very built giant. Max is tiny next to him- and he's chatting enthusiastically about something, hands having half the conversation for him.

Rico is listening patiently as they start taking the stairs, content to let Max talk regarding whatever it is he's on about.

Daniel doesn't get intimidated easily- it's something you get over quick, as a CEO- but Rico...

The man looks like he can fight. Max hadn't mentioned any kind of boyfriend- and he'd both claimed to be and behaved like a virgin last night- but Daniel isn't interested in "accidentally" running into Rico in an alleyway.

Max is walking today far better than Daniel had expected him to, though he's not in business casual- just jeans and a quarter zip. He spots Blake and waves, and then when he sees Daniel his cheeks heat up, head ducking slightly.

Blake elbows him gently when they both straighten up as Max and Rico get closer.

"Nice knowing ya, Dan."

"Shut up."

Max crosses the walkway, and Rico seems even bigger in person, towers head and shoulders above the others.

Blake, brave man, steps forward first.

"Max, thank you so much for coming in on your day off- I appreciate it."

Max flashes him a smile, stepping around him to log onto the monitor.

"It is no problem."

Blake extends his hand to Rico.

"You must be Rico- I'm Blake Friend, CFO. This is Daniel Ricciardo, CEO."

Rico shakes his hand, and then turns to take Daniel's, and there's a brief moment where he wonders if his life is about to flash in front of his eyes.

Rico's gaze lingers on him for a moment. He has intense green eyes, and Daniel gets the distinct feeling that he isn't very impressed.

"I appreciate you offering to bring to Max in- that was kind of you."

Rico sets his hands in his pockets.

"It is of course not a problem, to help Max."

Max makes a cooing noise from behind the computer, shooting a grin at Rico. It's startlingly bright, more real than anything Daniel has seen from him before- it scrunches his eyes up.

"Aw, Rico- don't be sappy."

Rico just smiles back at him.

There's the sound of the printer starting up, and Max logs out, looking over at Daniel and Blake.

"I have it set to reprint the report and the more detailed logs for the incidents I was looking at, if you wanted those also."

Daniel didn't even know there were detailed logs.

"Thank you, Max. We appreciate that. Enjoy the rest of your day off, yeah?"

Max nods- still can't quite meet his eyes, and Daniel would normally find that cute- and it is- but Rico's presence makes him hesitate to tease.

"It was no problem, sir."

Blake exchanges a few more pleasantries with them both as Daniel gathers the reports off of the printer, and then the two of them are leaving.

Blake turns back to Daniel.

"That man is fucking terrifying, mate."

Daniel makes a face.

"Tell me about it."

------

Rico is nice enough to wait until they're back in the car before he opens his mouth.

"This is why are you sad."

Max busies himself organizing the spare change in the cup holders.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Rico makes a disbelieving noise.

"Really? You wouldn't get out of bed, couldn't walk straight until we did stretches, and now the man that you've been calling 'sir' over the phone- you can't even look him in the eyes."

Max crumples a stray straw wrapper into a small ball.

"Those things can be unrelated."

"But they aren't, are they? You got fucked by your boss."

Rico pauses.

"Your CEO."

"Okay, I know it sounds bad-"

"That's because it is, Max."

"-but it is not as terrible as it sounds. It was very good, actually."

Rico drums his fingers on the steering wheel.

"He thinks I'm your boyfriend, by the way."

Max squeaks.

"What?"

Rico is laughing, broad hand reaching over to tangle in Max's hair. It's nothing like when Daniel does it- Rico's hand is broad where Daniel's is narrow, fingers wide where Daniel's are thin.

"Yes, he definitely does. I answered your phone and drove you in- he absolutely thinks we are together."

Max makes a very obvious glance to Rico's lap.

"Mate, we could not be together. There is a variety of reasons, but especially that one."

It takes two seconds of silence before they're both giggling. Max has seen Rico's dick before- there was an unfortunate month where the pipes would randomly stop working, so they'd swapped showers a few times- and Max can now say, having had sex, that Rico is too fucking big.

"Have fun getting that cleared up."

Max winces. He doesn't want to think about it- he's perfectly content to make that a tomorrow problem.

Rico puts the car in park, but he turns to look at Max, rests a hand on his arm.

"If he does something, or you want out, or anything- just tell me, yes? We will figure it out."

Max reaches over the center console to hug him, arms wrapping around his sides. He's always felt protected with Rico- he can practically hide in his shadow.

He knows he can rely on Rico, but what he's got going on with Daniel- whatever it's called- isn't bad. Just new.

"Thank you."

Rico squeezes him tighter.

"Anytime."

[intimidating-fettuccine]

OMG OMG OMG I cant believe I get to see the open requests after so long!!! Hiiii Aubrie, it's Jeff simp anon, missed you lots!!! Let's seeeee...Could we get some headcanons of Jeff's weird habits/talents he randomly discoverd? Things that no one would expect. Im sorry if you already did this or something similar, I haven't been around much lately, and if you did, you could write anything you like including Jeff. Kisseeees <3

Hello hello! Welcome back! I was very happy to ramble about Jeff for you this morning, so I hope you enjoy <3

I'm just gonna kind of highlight these two since I've said them in other posts, but Jeff bounces his leg obsessively and he plays with straws in his drinks whenever he has one. Whenever he's sitting down, his leg is bouncing, and you or someone else will have to sit next to him and firmly place your hand on his leg to get him to stop bouncing it because otherwise, he will not stop. He also taps his foot when he has to stand still for a really long time, like in a line or something, which makes him seem impatient but really he's just stimming. He likes to move straws around in his cups with his mouth, and he'll bounce the straw up and down with his hand (he tends not to do it in the cups with lids that make the squeaking sound when you do that), and when he's done with his drink he pulls the straw out and puts it in his mouth and bounces it up and down. Nobody knows if he's aware he's doing it because none of them feel confident enough to ask.

Randomly discovered he could do a perfect backflip one day. BEN probably dared him to do a backflip or said he couldn't and Jeff was like "Just fucking watch me" and he just did it. Perfect execution, perfect landing, the first time he'd ever done one. Now he does backflips at very random, mundane occasions to show off and be dramatic and everyone is tired of it but that just makes him want to continue doing it more.

Does duck lips when he's reading. When he is just reading anything at all for an extended period of time, he will purse his lips into duck lips and just hold them like that until he's finished reading. He didn't realize he was doing it until one day he randomly snapped to attention and realized he was doing it, and he started paying more attention and realized he does it every time subconsciously. He hopes that nobody has noticed he does this. (They have.)

I haven't brought this up in a while, but my mans can SING. I feel like he never really tried to, until one day he was listening to a song he really liked at the time, and he just started belting out along with the singer and was like holy FUCK I can sing, and now he sings very regularly. He's gotten better over time but he can match and carry a tune pretty well. I also said this in older posts, but when he's dating you he would LOVE to sing for and with you. He doesn't care if you can sing well or not, he just loves singing with you because it feels very domestic and sweet to him, and he loves singing songs for you and he'll nuzzle into you and hold you close and just quietly sing to you if you're sad, or he'll sing loud and boisterously if you're feeling silly, he just likes to do things like that with you.

Really really good at doing people's hair. Jeff has long hair himself that he is incredibly proud of and incredibly emotionally attached to, and he loves styling his own hair, and I feel like he began practicing on other people in the mansion very randomly, and realized he's pretty damn good at it. So now he's the hair guy. If someone is going out for a night on the town or an event and they need their hair done and can't or don't want to do it themselves, Jeff is the stylist of the mansion. Also can give pretty good haircuts in certain styles so he does that every now and then too.

Last but certainly not least, he can perfectly every single time successfully do the cotton eyed joe dance where you go in a row crushing cans with your foot on beat. He's never failed at it.

[vulpixisananimal]

Carrion!Sif AU, Chapter 1.

ACT 1, The Hunger.

(Au origonaly by @traumaboyexo. it's so cool. I'm 100% going to do more of this.)

"Siffrin!"

(You're lying down in the field near Dormont. You had a weird dream about eating a star. You smell cherries, Mirabelle was calling your name.)

". . . Siffrin?" (She's looming over you now, your Housemaiden.) "Good morning! Or, well more like good afternoon I guess. Were you taking a nap? That's just like you. . . Only you could sleep peacfully at a time like this, hee hee."

(You're too sleepy to talk, you close your eye again.)

"You're still half asleep, aren't you. I'll let you sleep a bit longer, but not too long!!"

(. . . Ugh. You can't stay here, like this. The sun was nice, and you could smell the birds in the air. The people in the village. The faint and distinct smell Mirabelle carried with her. But you were getting hungry, really, really hungry.)

(Wake up, Siffrin. You have a country to save.)

>>>

(Statues, big and small, all with different faces. Some jump up and down, some are sad, some are happy. The Change God, Deity of all of Vaugarde, stands before you.)

(So much has happened over the last few months, since you met Mirabelle. You helped save them from a sadness, and you were here to defeat the King. They were nice, they were your familly.)

(Mirabelle, Isabeau, Odile, Bonniface. Each of them had been your best friends, or at least allies. You hoped you were friends, at least.)

(Mirabelle once asked if you were ok with following them on your journey. You truthfully answered that this had been the happiest you'd ever been. But, that just made her look upset.)

(You cringe just thinking about it, truth be told.)

(You're still hungry.)

>>>

"Don't worry about a thing, then. Can I get you anything on the house? A croissant, maybe? . . . Incredible, incredible. I've never seen someone give such a look of disdain when offered croissant."

"A Pain Au Chocolate, then. Only monsters don't like Pain Au Chocola."

(You like those! You nod!!)

"Ha, one Pain Au Chocolate, coming up."

(You got the Pain Au Chocolate!! Yay!!)

(You know they're really, really bad for your stomach. But it's still warm! Smells of butter and chocolate. You try and restrain yourself with one small bite. But you're so hungry, it smells so good!! You take one bite, and another, and another!!)

". . . Not gonna lie, seeing a tiny one like you eat like a rabid beast. . . That was distrubing, but also weirdly satisfying."

(Haha, this was future Siffrins problem.)

>>>

(The Favor Tree looms above you.)

(You look around for a good leaf, one to represent you. You need it for the Favor Tree, after all.)

(A wish, a wish. . . Favor Trees must be popular around Vaugarde, these days. Everyone must be wishing for the same thing. So, why should you join them, then? What's one more wish on the pile. Something small. . .)

(You wish for. . .)

>>>

"Phew, Bonbon! That was DE-LI-CIOUS!!"

(It was really, really good!! You ate every bite on your plate! It was sooooo tasty, but now your tummy was feeling upset. Damn you, past Siffrin!! But, you could still eat more!!)

"Aw Siff, are you still hungry?" (Isabeau asks.)

"Frin, you ate a lot, huh!! You liked my cooking a lot, huh!!! Here, have some more food since you're so hungry and like my cooking so much."

(Bonnie gives you one (1) carrot slice. It smelled tasty!)

(Chomp.)

"Won't that give you a stomach ache? Nevermind that, how can you still eat after all that food?" (Odile asks, concerned.)

"I'm a growing kid!" (You reply, cheekily.)

"A growing kid that drinks achohol?!?"

"You're older than most of the people here?!?"

(You wink cutely.)

"I suppose we're lucky to get some meat for you all the way out here." (Odile sighs.) "What a strange diet you have."

(You shrug. You've always been like this.)

>>>

(You step into the House of Change. It feels. . . Wrong. You have a tingling on the back of your neck. A tingling you'd always get when something was "off.")

(A house frozen in time. A faint smell of sugar slicing through the air. It was strange, but still you were confident. You could smell your companions following you, step by step. Each as distinct as the next.)

(You're hungry again.)

(You smell a sadness ahead.)

>>>

(Huh?)

"Is something wrong, Siffrin?" (Asks Odile.)

(You look around. There, behind you, there was a flickering white. . . Star?)

"Did you see that light?" (You ask.)

"A light?" (Mirabelle looks concerned.)

"Something wrong, Sif?" (Isa adds.)

(You walk over to the light and point to it.)

". . . . . . ?"

(So they can't see it? It smelled of sugar.)

(You reach out and touch the light.)

>>>

(Traps? Traps?)

"A job for me then." (You say, cheekily.)

"It is your job."

"Protect us, trap master!"

(Not the first time you had to reassure Mirabelle. Time to look around.)

(You look around the room. Checking each wall, checking the floors, checking the pillars. You felt the brickwork for anything, a hidden switch, a pressure plate, anything. It all smelled of... Sugar, and old stone. Well maintained, it smelled of people too. You could smell. . . Fear, worry, no, no that was Mirabelles. She smelled of fear, it smelled. . .)

(You're hungry again.)

(There's nothing here. You can't find any switches, so. . .)

"So? So are we safe?? We're not safe, are we!! This is the death corridor!!! There must be a trap--"

(Oh come on now.) "There's nothing weird in here."

"But there must be!!"

"Aw, Mira. . ."

"Belle, Belle, don't worry about it. Frin isn't good at many things, but they know stuff about traps."

(Hey. . .)

"Right, if we can't trust the one who's supposed to lead us THIS early, this wont bode well for later."

(HEY--)

"But! But!"

"We're not dead yet." (You say, stepping through the hall.)

"W-well, that's true. . ."

"We HAVE been in this room for a while. . . And Siffrin has been walking everywhere. So if it was weight sensitive, it would have gone off by now."

"Exactly! It's all fine!!"

"Oh. . . Yeah, yeah okay! I'll believe you! Sorry for worrying, I'm a little on edge."

(You smile at them.) "We're good, Mira, see?" (You walk to the center of the room.)

"Everythings fine!"

(. . . . The back of your neck tingles. Somethings-)

(CRACK.)

(THUD.)

[dhampiravidi]

watching SPN 13x6 "Tombstone"

so I'm watching & commenting on this episode of Supernatural to celebrate Valentine's Day, since I've heard it's got some good Destiel moments. I stopped watching SPN at S10, but I know who Jack is.

that guy w/Dean's gonna die...yep.

CAS!!!

IDK Sam, you could always HUG Cas (who wouldn't?) Good, Dean.

"what's the Empty like?" props to Cas for not being a dick & making That Face ( -_- )

Yay! Hug your dad, Jack! 🥰

"I know what zombies are now!" & Jack ISN'T freaking out about the fact that he just resurrected Cas? Kid's adaptable, damn.

Dean's face going from "mhm sure" to "hmm" to "strangely" aroused/bashful when Cas meets his eyes?? you know he's thinking of Cas fucking him in a cowboy hat, right??

were any of those men in the hotel pictures in the Confederate army...? *suspicious*

I love how Sam is like "my weird brother's hyperfixation" while Jack is concerned & Cas is somewhere near "I wish I was still in the Empty" 😅

bruhhhh just get back in the car. No one's gonna fire you for leaving an empty truck where you found it (no, I cannot & will not be a cop)

aww, Dean's sleeping 🥰

"I thought angels were good" time to watch seasons 4 & 5, Jack--

"what's it like? Heaven?" WHITE. Next question-- *hugs Cas to block out the trauma of Naomi & Zachariah*

I shouldn't be laughing at Dean's reaction to being woken up (I've had...a few different reactions) but the way it was acted out 😂

:( Dean don't be RUDE, your husband just got back from Superhell. & you can't expect your kid to make you coffee

giggling bc Cas's trenchcoat reminds me of the Wild West more than Dean's bolo tie (don't tell them I said that)

ah, Kilmer. A very creative name. Great job--

VAL KILMER 💀

...is...Jensen's Texas accent creeping out? Or am I high on candy?

I couldn't wear headphones if I worked in a building ALL BY MYSELF--

is there a reason for the undertaker to wear lipstick if she works alone & wears a mask most of the time?

WASH YOUR HANDS, SAM! (grave dust bleh)

oh ok he's gonna dig around in the grave...*pulls out my moist towelettes*

??? so is Athena dating a ghost? Why hasn't he become a vengeful spirit yet?

uh...who's gonna...undertake if Athena's going to school? Just wondering. But good for her!

c'mon security guard, GET HIM FROM THE BACK--

*sigh* please don't turn into Carrie, Jack.

why did Jack's blood go from green to red?

"you have to heal him" if YOU can kill him, YOU should heal him--

"he's dead" yeah, there's a pool of blood under his head :/

"stop being a bitch" PUNCH HIM, GIRL! hide the $ for yourself & turn his ass IN--

Dean's "I don't wanna" so relatable 😭 time to be a gopher

wait...if Dean drove the Impala to the undertaker's, how are Sam, Jack & Cas getting home? When did they get 2 cars??

NOOOO Dean could've used the front door 😭

the way Jack directs each of those lines!! "each time I try & do good, people get hurt" to Dean who once had the Mark, "I thought I was getting better--I'm not" to Sam who was addicted to demon blood, "I don't know what I am" to Cas who's been a disloyal angel then a human then in-between--

"if I stay, I'll hurt you" bruh ya could've flown away without blasting the fuck out of everyone

yeah, so this was a sad episode. Many Jack moments. Not much Destiel. At least the gays got to hug.

[equallyshaw]

ᴅᴀʏ ᴛᴡᴇʟᴠᴇ: ɴᴇᴡ ʏᴇᴀʀꜱ ꜱᴜʀᴘʀɪꜱᴇ - Qᴜɪɴɴ ʜᴜɢʜᴇꜱ

and just like that, we are on the last day of holidays with equallyshaw

for those that have been here from the first to this one...ily guys

without further ado, happy holidays- i hope you all have a wonderful day with loved ones. and i also send extra love to those who could not spend christmas with loved ones for any reason. i see you and am going through the same thing🫶🏻🎄

word count: 1.3K

warnings: none!

ᴏʀɪɢɪɴᴀʟʟʏ, ᴅᴀɪꜱʏ ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪɴɴ were not meant to spend new years together. the two had decided for daisy to stay in boston where she is from, and spend time with her family. daisy though, didn't want to spend it without. it would have been their first new years out of the three previous ones that they'd spend not together. quinn seemed content the last time they finalized their plans for the holidays, but daisy was not content with them.

❅

daisy had been a ball of nerves all day. from the moment she woke up, the moment she got through tsa, the moment she picked up a coffee from the airport cafe and the minute she sat down in her airplane seat. she had turned off her location so quinn couldn't see where she was. they were texting back and forth after she boarded and then she heard the worst news possible, they were being delayed an hour. which meant by the looks of it- she would not be getting there until 9 pm. she texted bella brock's gf, letting her know her arrival time might be pushed back. and bella being the best, had no issue with that. she would make it work. she put her phone on silent, and pulled out her book to read.

she was in for a travel day.

❅

it was 9:15 pm when bella hugged her good friend, daisy. "oh my god i thought i was never getting out of there!" she exasperated as she flung her carry on suitcase and bag in the back, and hopped in the front. "i was worried you weren't." bella said putting her car in drive. "all that matters is that you got here safe and sound." she hummed pulling out of the airport pickup area. daisy nodded, "are we heading to your apartment?" she asked to confirm and bella nodded. "yeah, brock just left for dinner with the boys. i said that i would meet him there later since he knows about you already. but im so excited for q!" she said clapping her hands together. daisy blushed, "me too." she hummed responding to a picture quinn sent of his outfit to confirm that it looked good.

"quinn was being super mopey knowing that you weren't gonna be here this year.." bella let out, as they stopped at a light. daisy frowned, "well its a good thing im here." she hummed locking her phone. "he really said that he was fine with you not being here?" she questioned, as she began to drive again. daisy nodded, "yeah, he said that he was fine with it. he knows how much I've missed my family with starting work here in vancouver, and because of that i haven't been able to travel this season so far. i had a feeling he was putting on a front when we spoke about the plans a few weeks back." she explained and bella nodded. "yeah, im glad you're here. he was sad last night when brock asked about you. it was even more harder i assume because his parents went to jersey." bella concluded. "oh yeah, that was not a fun conversation to listen to when his mom said they'd be going to jersey again.." daisy sighed. "he puts on a brave face but when he could he definitely spoke his mind. i felt bad already leaving and then ellen told him last minute they weren't coming up and had me searching for new years flights day and night." daisy explained. "that's makes me so sad." bella frowned, to which daisy echoed.

❅

it was around 11 by the time daisy had finished her hair and makeup, which was simple and natural looking. just the way quinn adored it. she felt tingly with butterflies fluttering within her, as she smoothed down her pink strapless dress. "listen girlfriend...damn you look hot!" bella said knocking on the door before walking into he guest bathroom. daisy blushed, "he's not gonna be able to let go of you tonight. trust." bella said making daisy do a twirl for her. "lets get going but first we need to do a shot!" bella exclaimed, pulling her downstairs and into the kitchen of the townhouse. "alright alright." daisy smiled taking the shot of tequila and throwing it down. "damn never gets easier." she said after chewing the lime. "oo." bella echoed that sentiment, as she saw the uber notification go off. "brock sent us an uber, lets get going!" bella said throwing on her jacket with daisy throwing on her's as well.

the two hopped into the uber, and they were on there way to the private and upscale bar the boys had rented a private room in. daisy's leg bounced up and down, and bella took a quick snapchat for brock tagging it with "cargo has been secured". "im so nervous." daisy said and bella smiled, "my mom always says that if you still get butterflies or nerves before seeing the person you love no matter how long you've been apart, that that is something to hold on too. its a good thing. quinn is going to just about die." bella smiled trying to comfort her good friend. daisy nodded, and soon enough they were pulling up to the bar.

❅

the two gave their coats to the hostess who then took the two over to the private group. daisy walked behind bella who was texting brock that they were about to walk in. he texted back saying that quinn was in the corner with a few of the single guys. brock greeted them at the door, and daisy gave him a big hug. "thankyou for keeping him company." she hummed and brock smiled, "ofcourse!" he beamed. elias saw daisy from across the room and grinned and threw two thumbs up to her, which she mimicked. she waved to some of the wags who caught on to what was happening and they all smiled widely.

a zach bryan song was playing on the stereo, and once she caught sight of quinn in the corner, her heart just burst. he looked to be having a good time but seemed quite reserved. brock pushed daisy in front of him, and gave her a bit of a push to get going. she gave him a fake glare, before walking the rest of the way. the guys next to quinn face's lit up once they saw daisy, and then smiled and grinned toward quinn.

quinn was confused when the three guys he was with were grinning or smiling at him, like they knew something he didn't. he looked towards his left, and just stared at the girl who was supposed to be in Boston. his mouth was agape trying to process the situation, and she could only giggle in response.

"wait what?" he asked looking around and seeing the team watching him, before he stood up and wrapped his arms around daisy. daisy felt a sense of relief once his arms wrapped around her.

she'd caught him off guard, she'd gotten him good.

"oh my god - youre here?" he asked pulling away a bit to embrace her, and she only nodded in response. "couldn't ring in the new year without q!" she smiled before he pulled her in for a kiss. which made the guys and wags erupt with cheers. they pulled away, as somebody pushed a drink into daisys hand. "how'd you get here?" he asked, and she pointed to brock and bella. quinn smiled at brock who smiled back, and then he looked back down at daisy.

he wrapped his arms around her again, not believing that she was here.

"youre never letting me leave again, i assume? heard you've been miserable without me." she teased, and he shook his head. "never again. not a chance." he mused before pulling her in for another kiss. he pulled away after a few seconds, "wait! who said i was miserable?" causing daisy to giggle loudly.

and there you go folks!! hope you guys enjoyed this series (:

tags: @cuttergauthier @jackhues @toasttt11 @jayda12 @dancerbailey3

[fandomtherapy44]

Castiel x reader Chapter 16

Summary: SEASON 5 WHOOOO!!!!!!!! LET's GO! So I am so excited for this season so many great episodes. There are going to be a lot more Cas and Y/n scenes. And more chapters too. I do recommend that you read my first book so you get the full Y/n Winchester build-up. Okay with out further due enjoy the second book of Love War and Grace.

Paring: Castiel x reader

word count: 4.4k

Warnings: Some language, Typical Supernatural violence, Spoilers for season five of Supernatural, Guns

AN/ Hey Ya'll so I did notice that it's been a month since I've updated this series sorry for that. This is the longest I've written in a while so that's part of the reason why it took so long. Anywho hope you enjoy especially Cas's and Y/n Renion.

Chapter 16: Good God Ya'll

POV: Y/n “Alright, it looks like you can go home.” The doctor said while putting her supplies away. “Great thanks doc.” She stops and seems to peer into my soul. “You know I have never seen a heart attack like yours I mean you're twenty-four, fit, don’t smoke it just doesn’t make sense.” Yeah I know but it's not like I can tell her that Angels exist and that they all pretty much hate me. “Uh yeah crazy.” I walked to the door. “You must have a guardian Angel.”  She jokily said. Oh, you have no idea.

I stepped into Bobby’s doorway to his room he was in his wheelchair just staring out the window. “Hey, what did the Doc say?” Sam asked me. “All good thanks to Cas.” Speaking of him where the Hell is he. Dean comes to us carrying an envelope. “It's been like three days now?” Sam and I both sighed. “We got to cheer him up. Maybe I'll give him a backrub.” “Dean” Again Sam and I both said. “Look...we might have to wrap our heads around the idea that Bobby might not just bounce back this time.” I mean he’s right this kind of news you don't just get drunk and forget about it.

“What's in the envelope?” I nod at the paper. “Went to radiology.” He pulls out the X-ray. “Got some glamour shots.” It was his ribs and it had Enochian engraved in his bones. “Is that why I feel like I have the worst heartburn ever.” I pointed to the picture. “Yup, curtsy of Cas apparently no demon or Angel can find us” Okay does not mean him too? Then Sam’s phone rings. “Hello? ...Castiel?” CASTIEL! “Speak of the devil.” “Ah, St. Martin's Hospital. Why? What are you—Cas?” Cas had hung up on Sam. And the Angel walks up to us. “Castiel…” I just got lost in my thoughts staring at him.

“Y/n I'm glad to see that you're doing well.” That’s it! He must have something on his mind. “Cell phone, Cas? Really? Since when do angels need to reach out and touch someone?” Dean questioned. “You're hidden from angels now—all angels. I won't be able to simply—” He tried to explain. “Enough foreplay.” Bobby announced from his chair. “Get over here and lay your damn hands on.” “I can't.” What? “Say again?” He spun in his chair.

“I'm cut off from heaven and much of heaven's power. Certain things I can do. Certain things I can't.” What about me then? “You're telling me you lost your mojo just in time to get me stuck in this trap the rest of my life?” I can see Castiel is sad that he can’t help. “I'm sorry.” “Shove it up your ass.” I feel terrible for Cas and Bobby.”At least he's talking now.” Dean commented to Sam and me. “I heard that.” “I don't have much time. We need to talk.” Cas directed to Dean. “Okay.” “Your plan to kill Lucifer.” “Yeah. You want to help?” “No. It's foolish. It can't be done.” Cas does really not have any fucks to give.

“Oh. Thanks for the support.” “But I believe I have the solution. There is someone besides Michael strong enough to take on Lucifer. Strong enough to stop the apocalypse.” We are wondering who he’s talking about. “Who's that?” “The one who resurrected me and put you on that airplane. The one who began everything. God.” Okay God right I mean why not. “I'm gonna find God.”

Dean closes the door so people don’t think we're insane. “God?” “Yes.” “God.” “Yes! He isn't in heaven. He has to be somewhere.” Cas sounded so sure. “Try New Mexico. I hear he's on a tortilla.” Dean said and poor sweet Cas did not get the joke. “No, he's not on any flatbread.” “Listen, Chuckles, even if there is a God, he is either dead—and that's the generous theory—” “He is out there, Dean.” “—or he's up and kicking and doesn't give a rat's ass about any of us.” Cas just glares.

“I mean, look around you, man. The world is in the toilet. We are literally—at the end of days here, and he's off somewhere drinking booze out of a coconut. All right?” “Enough. This is not a theological issue. It's strategic. With God's help, we can win.” he really believes. “It's a pipe dream, Cas.” Cas gets very close to Dean. “I killed two angels this week. My brothers. I'm hunted. I rebelled. And I did it, all of it, for you, and you failed. You and your brother destroyed the world—and I lost everything, for nothing. So keep your opinions to yourself.” Damn, I don't think I've ever seen Cas like that before.

“You didn't drop in just to tear us a new hole. What is it you want?” Bobby voiced. “I did come for something. An amulet.” A necklace? “An amulet? What kind?” “Very rare. Very powerful. It burns hot in God's presence. It'll help me find him.” “A God EMF?” Sam questioned. “Well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got nothing like that.” Bobby shrugged his shoulders. “I know. You don't.” Cas turns to Dean. He looks down at Dean’s necklace. “What, this?” “May I borrow it?” Cas asked politely.

“No.” “Dean. Give it to me.” Dean is silent, he looks at me and I nod my head. “All right, I guess.” He takes it off. And hestionly gives it to Cas. “Don't lose it. Great. Now I feel naked.” Cas now has the necklace. “I'll be in touch.” He goes to walk out of the room. “CAS wait up!” 

He is very quick on his feet I guess having wings would help with that. I caught up to him and grabbed his wrist to pull him into a room ironically it was the chapel. We just stood staring at each other a little. I couldn't believe that he was here. I finally shake out of my trance-like state. And go to hug him tight like he would disappear in my fingers. And he does the same. “Cas were you really …. Dead?” I say right next to his ear. An answer came that I never hoped to hear.

“Yes.” A tear slips down my cheek and I squeeze him harder. We let go of each other slowly. We sat down on the pews. “So do you really think God will help us?” “I'm here aren't I” I sigh and process everything. “Ok, we will get God’s help then.” “Y/n do you really believe in this plan?” He wasn't just asking as a tactic to win this war but as my friend.

“I believe in you Cas yes God brought you back but you are the one who is fighting actively with us so no matter what remember that.” “Thank you Y/n, I must go start the search.” “Ok but now that you can’t just pop in where I am please use your phone that I gave you for that very reason” I finish with a smile. He gives me one back and files off.

When I was gone Rufus had called Bobby sounding really in trouble and something about Demons. We drove up to this bridge in Colorado and it looked like a tornado had walked through. “This is the only road in or out.” Great. “Looks like we're going to put those scout skills that we never learned to use boys. Let’s Go!” I grabbed my pack and gun and we were off.

We walked into the town slowly and lets just that tornado had walked over and full on ran through. Cars flipped over store doors open … blood in lots of places. Sprilikers on for hours. I had been in haunted places before but I have never felt a chill in my body like this. We are checking out this car when we hear a gun cuck and we turn around. It’s Ellen.

“Ellen hey!” I go to hug her but she raises the gun to my face. Dean gets in between us. “That’s far enough.” “Ellen, what the heck's going on here?” And in response, she throws holy water at Dean. I have to hold back my snicker. “We're us.” He says annoyed, whipping off his face. We walked to a church where the survivors of whatever happened held up. When Ellen knew we were safe she threw herself onto me first for a hug. When she hugged Dean and she pulled back she slapped him.

“You can't pick up a phone? What are you, allergic to giving me peace of mind the only one to call is Y/n. I got to find out that you're alive from Rufus?” Dean seems surprised by her care. “Sorry, Ellen.” “Yeah, you better be. You better put me on speed dial, kid.” “Yes, ma'am.” All of us go to the church basement and theirs a demon trap in front. “What's going on, Ellen?” I ask. “More than I can handle alone.” “How many demons are there?” Sam asks in almost bewilderment. “Pretty much the whole town, minus the dead people and these guys.” Holy shit Demons are having super bowl parties.

“So, this is it, right? End times? It's got to be.” Ellen states. “Seems like it.” Sam replies back. Ellen knocks on the door and the makeshift peephole cover gets moved. “It's me.” Someone opens the door and we're let in, the people in here look like they've been through… war. They all look normal and one of them is pregnant. Peachy just peachy.

“This is Sam and Dean, Y/n. They're hunters. Here to help.” A guy who looks like he's the most confident out at of everyone comes up to us. “You guys hip to this whole demon thing?” “We have some experience.” I answered laughing inside. There was another man in glasses sitting at the table who looked especially like he had seen something. “My wife's eyes turned black. She came at me with a brick. Kind of makes you embrace the paranormal.” Yeah, I would too.

“All right, catch us up.” Dean told Ellen. “I doubt I know much more than you. Rufus called. Said he was in town investigating omens. All of a sudden, the whole town was possessed. Me and Jo were nearby—” What? Now that’s a surprise. The last time I knew she would rather have Jo be a Barmaid than a hunter! “You're hunting with Jo?” “Yeah, for a while now. We got here, and the place—well, the place was like you see it. Couldn't find Rufus, then me and Jo got separated. I was out looking when I found you.” Well, that’s great.

“Don’t worry Ellen we’ll find her” I touched her arm in a comforting way. She gave me a small smile in return. “Either way, these people cannot just sit here” Sam said looking at everyone. Especially the pregnant woman. “We got to get them out now.” “No, it's not that easy. I've been trying. We already made a run for it once.” “So we just reverse the plan-” Ellen stopped me. “Sweetie we used to have twenty.” My eyes widened. “Well, there's four of us now—” Dean tried again.

“You don't know what it's like out there. Demons are everywhere. We won't be able to cover everybody.” “What if we get everyone guns?” Sam suggested. “Sam you want to give walking nursery over there one she won’t make it five feet without going into early labor.” I said to him hoping to slap some sense into him. “More salt we can fire at once, more demons we can keep away.” Of course, it didn’t work when did my brothers ever listen to me!? “Fine everyone but her I'll carry two guns” I could tell Sam was ashamed but he was right, unfortunately. Dean broke our tension.

“There's a sporting goods store we passed on Main on the way in. I bet they got guns.” “All right. You stay. We'll go.” Sam said to Ellen. “What about—” I pulled Ellen into a hug. “Ellen if she’s out there I promise to bring her back.” She had tears in her eyes but kept them back to be strong. “Thank you Y/n.” I squeezed her arms and followed my brothers. 

We stop outside the door well Dean stopped us. “Why don't we just go?” Dean directed to Sam about him and I. “What? Just you and N/n?” Sam clapped back. “Well, yeah. Somebody's got to stay here and start giving them Shotgun 101.” “Yeah. Ellen.” Sam starts to go but Dean stops him again. “No no no. It's gonna go a lot faster if you stay and help, okay?” “While you and Y/n split up to go get guns and salt and look for Jo and Rufus? That's stupid.” “Dean We’ll be okay.” “Thanks N/n.” But Dean was stubborn. “You don't want me going out there.” Sam realized. “I didn't say that.” “Around demons.” “I didn't say that.” “Fine, then let's go.” Sam stopped upstairs and Dean gave me an uneasy look.

Dean and I had gone to go look for Guns while Sam was getting salt. “Ok come on let me have it.” Dean said to me. “I don’t know what you're talking about.” I looked at the shotguns not looking up at him. “Y/n I know you, your silence speaks louder than your words so spit it out.” “Dean, I can't tell you how to feel about this.” “But you're judging me.” “No, I'm not.” I put the bag of guns on the table and filled it. I could tell he was still thinking that.

“Dean I think you're feelings about this whole demon blood situation is right but Sam deserves our sympathy with him.” “But he!-” “I know what he did I was there. But he’s our brother and I am going to choose to believe that he can handle this and if he can’t then I'll be with him every step of the way.” I stopped to take a breath. “I hope you choose that too.” I picked up the bag and walked out.

We went to the store to check on sam and when walked in the scene was not good. Sam was bent over a body looking at the blood dripping off the blade like it was liquid drugs. “Sammy?” He drops the knife. 

The basement air had grown stronger with tension more and more the longer we were stuck down here and now seeing Sammy Dean was on edge. Teaching everyone shotgunning quickly is harder than it sounds. “Miss, can you show me?” It was the pregnant woman. “Mahm what’s your name?” “Caddy.” “Caddy, do you know the gender and name?” she smiled looking down at her bump, and that right there I knew I wouldn't be able to live if I let her out there. “A girl and her name will be Andra”

“That’s a beautiful name and Andra is the reason why I can't let you go out there.” She looked shocked. “But I can fight.” “I know you can Caddy but if you got hurt then you may never know your kid and I won't allow that.” She sat down tears in her eyes. “I'll fight for you double-fisting it so don’t worry the demons will get it no matter what.” I tried to add a little humor to it. “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it.”

“I'll be back.” I overheard Ellen say. I got straight up. “Where are you going?” “I can't sit here on my ass. My daughter's out there somewhere. I'm not back in half an hour, go. Get these people out of here.” Before I can say anything Sam speaks up. “No, wait. I'll go with you.” “Whoa, hold on. Can I talk to you for a second?”  My two brothers walked out. And I could hear the arguing. Suddenly the door pops open. Dean is up against the wall and Sam is holding him there. “If you actually think I—” Sam was getting emotional and they were talking about the demon blood.

With Sam and Ellen gone the pastor was reciting prayers like crazy. And Dean was thinking, walking back and forth. Someone pounds on the door Dean goes to open it and there is Ellen. “Ellen, what happened Where's Sam?” I asked, seeing her state telling me that she had taken a punch. She doesn't answer me and just sits down.

“They took him? Demons took him? Oh my god. What if they're in here? The demons?” Caddy got very worried. “Caddy don't worry they can't get past that door.” I pointed. Dean grabbed a shotgun and was going to leave. “Everybody sit tight. I got to—” He glanced back at everyone and saw their faces and knew he couldn't leave them like this. “Okay, we need to get a plan together. Tell me everything.” He sat down and tells the pastor and he gave me a nod of his head like, don’t worry.

“Guys, one of them's in Jo. We got to get it out without hurting her.” Well, now it's personal. Ellen snorts, laughing at something. “It called me a bitch.” “Ok no offense Ellen but I've been called worse because I took the last hot dog at seven eleven,” I responded. “No, that's not what I meant. It called me a black-eyed bitch.” Dean and I hear and either these demons are looking in mirrors or something fishy is going on.

“What kind of demons are these? Holy water and salt roll right off. My daughter may be an idiot, but she's not stupid. She wears an anti-possession charm. It's all kind of weird, right?” Ellen commented putting the pieces together. “The whole thing's off.” Dean finished. “What's your instinct?” Mine would be call Cas but I know he’s trying to look for God or whatever. “My instinct? My instinct is to call Bobby and ask for help. Or Sam.”

“Well, tough. All you got's me and N/n, and all we got's you. So let's figure it out.” “You know I agree with Ellen Dean.” “All right.” “Ellen do you know why Rufus came was there a specific sign or?” I asked. “He said something about water. That's all I know.” Water? “Padré, you know what she's talking about—the water?” Dean asked the pastor. “The river. Ran polluted all of a sudden. Last Wednesday. And the demon thing started up the next day.” Interesting. “Anything else anything at all?” “Maybe, but it's pretty random.” “Trust me Austin in this life nothing is random.” he takes in my own words. “Shooting star—does that count?”

The three of us look at each other in knowing. “Real big. Same night. Wednesday.” “That definitely counts.” Dean goes over to the bookshelf and grabs one of the many Bibles. And flips through the pages till he finds the right one. “"And there fell a great star from heaven, burning like a torch, and it fell upon the river, and the name of the star was Wormwood. And many men died."” I leaned down on the table thinking about it.

“I don’t know about you guys but that sounds like a giant ass warning sign of the apocalypse.” “Y/n’s right.” Dean agreed with me. “And these specific omens, they're prelude to what?” “The Four Horsemen.” The pastor responded. “And which one rides the red horse?” Dean questioned. “War.” war!? War. “Dean that sweet ride that was parked on main street the red Mustang.” I pointed out and he shook his head in agreeance. “If War is a dude and he's here, maybe he's messing with our heads.” “Turning us on each other.” Ellen concluded. “You said Jo called you a black-eyed bitch. They think we're demons, we think they're demons. What if there are no demons at all and we're all just killing each other?” I asked everyone in general to everyone. 

“So now you're saying that there are no demons and war is a guy.” Austin vocalized and he was right, our lives sound like they were ripped from a cheesy early two thousand TV show. “You believed crazy before.” Dean voiced back. Then there was another slamming on the door. It was Roger which is weird because I don't remember leaving.  “I saw them, the demons. They know we're trying to leave. They said they're gonna pick us off one by one.” “Wait wait wait. What?” Dean proclaimed our thoughts.

“I thought you said there were no demons.” “Austin there's not, okay.” I told him. “I thought someone should go out and see what's going on!” Oh come on! If I did not know about the supernatural world I would be pissing my pants right now! “They're gonna kill us unless we kill them first!” Roger responded in panic. “Guys please hold on!” “No, we got people to protect. All right, the able-bodied go hunt some demons.” Austin said straight back at me. He grabbed the shotguns.

“Whoa whoa whoa. Slow your roll. This is not a demon thing.” Dean tried to stop him.  Out of t the corner of my eye, I see Roger twist a ring on his finger. Fuck it's him. “Look at their eyes! They're demons!” He pointed at us and I'm sure we looked like demons. Caddy gasps. No no! “Caddy!-” But before I could get another word out Dean pulls me out of the room and a gunshot almost hits us.

“Okay this is plan you and Ellen get Jo and I'll get Rufus.” Dean whispered to us. We nodded and went to them.Ellen sets off the bomb. Jo walks a little close to window and Ellen grabs her and pins her to the wall. Of course she tries to fight. “Now you listen up, Joanna Beth Harvelle.” Ellen pulled the full name card. “Jo its us!” “Get off of me bitches!” “Jo if we were demons we would have disaboled you by now!” I try to reason. She listens. “N/n?” “Yes!” 

Now both of them didn’t want to kill us we could talk. “We all on the same page?” Ellen asked. Rufus and Dean nod. “Good.” “Hi, Jo.” “Hey.” Ok sensing tension between these two I'll pin that for later. “Okay, we got to find War before everybody in this town kills each—” Gunshots. Everyone ducks. “Damn it! Where's Sam?” Dean yells. “Upstairs.” I let him go, I had a feeling that Caddy needed help. They have the horseman and I have the people.

Ellen and I tried to sneak out to the battlefield but it was pretty hard with bullets flying through the air. “Caddy! Caddy, you have to get out of here!” “No, you're a demon!” “Caddy if I was a demon I would want you out here!” she was going to say something else but I saw a person behind her holding a handgun.

“CADDY!” I push her out of the way and a bullet goes into my arm and I'm pushed back on the ground by the force. I don’t even have time to look at my wound before the guy gets on top of me with a knife. He’s about to stab me in the heart but I catch his wrists before he can slam down. I'm slowly losing strength and the knife is slowly going down. I’m sorry guys, Cas.

The blade is about to go in my chest when the guy stops. “What the fuck!!” He gets off. “Yeah me too dude.” I breathe deeply. “Y/n! Are you okay?” CAddy asked me. “Nothing a little dirt won’t fix.” I simled to hide my pain. “You saved me.” “It was nothing.” She pulls me into a hug. “Yes, it was.” 

It feels surreal to be at such a wonderful beautiful place when the day was so ugly and stressful. I was sitting at the picnic table with my brothers twirling the ring in my hands. “So, pit stop at Mount Doom?” Dean broke the silence. “Dean—” “Sam, let's not.” “No, listen. This is important. I know you don't trust me.” Dean looks away and I nudge him to bring him back. “Just, now I realized something. I don't trust me either.” We both look at him.

“From the minute I saw that blood, only thought in my head...and I tell myself it's for the right reasons, my intentions are good, and it, it feels true, you know? But I think, underneath...I just miss the feeling. I know how messed up that sounds, which means I know how messed up I am. The thing is, the problem's not the demon blood, not really. I mean, I, what I did, I can't blame the blood or Ruby or...anything. The problem's me. How far I'll go. There's something in me that...scares the hell out of me, Dean Y/n. In the last couple of days, I caught another glimpse…” “So what are you saying?”

“I'm in no shape to be hunting. I need to step back, 'cause I'm dangerous. Maybe it's best we just...go our separate ways.” I think he's right if he needs time. “Well, I think you're right.” Dean responded and Sam and I were both surprised. “I was expecting a fight.” “Me too.” “The truth is I spend more time worrying about you than about doing the job right. And I just, I can't afford that, you know? Not now.” I feel like Dean is still avoiding his feelings but that's up to him. “I'm sorry, Dean.” “I know you are, Sam.”

“So Y/n which one of us do you want to go with. I thought for a minute and then I came back with an answer. “I think a little separation will be good for us all to sort through our own feelings without anyone else's opinion mixing in our own.” I want Dean to really think by himself. “Where will you go?” They both ask me. “With Ellen and Jo if they are okay with that.” Sam stands up and hugs me. “But you better still call me that threat could still happen.” I tease. “You too Dean.” “Yeah, I know my little sister can kick my ass.” He said as he hugged me. 

Jo and Ellen are packing up a truck. “Hey, N/n came to say goodbye?” Ellen asked. “Um actually the opposite and I totally understand if you don't want to but I was wondering if you had space for an extra hunter for a while.” Ellen throws me a pack in response. “Well come on we just got word on a possible vamp nest in Texas.” Jo smiles and we get in the truck. I roll down the window and just hope that this time apart will bring us together. 

AN/ Hope you all enjoyed and don't worry the siblings will be back together soon enough. See you Ya'll next time Xoxo Gossip Girl:)

[vierlieben]

Heavenly.

choi san x f!reader

genre: fluff

desc.: your boyfriend came home, feeling like the entire world is on his back. as a loving and caring girlfriend, you did something for him to make him feel not just "better", but "heavenly".

wc: 1,059

the hands of the clock told you that it's now 6:45 pm. then you continued washing the dishes. the sink's loaded after baking cookies for an order. you have been standing for like ten minutes now in here.

you know that any moment, your boyfriend would find you doing the dishes and would give you a warm back hug. as you were just thinking about that, you felt something pressed onto your body; arms wrapped around your waist, head resting on your shoulder.

you didn't even hear San enter the apartment, all you can hear is the flowing water—the faucet's loud as hell.

"well, good evening to you, mister." you greeted with a sweet tone.

you were thinking that he was just sleepy or lazy to talk, as how he always is when he gets home—but no, his head resting on your shoulder right now is heavier than ever. it is like the entire world is on your back. San is putting all of his head's weight on your shoulder but you didn't mind at all.

"hey," you turned your head to him, quickly finishing the dishes. "love, are you alright?"

you felt him shake his head lazily. few seconds passed and you are finally done with these damn dishes. you quickly dried your hands and turned around to see him; his eyes are half opened, shoulders almost dropping on the floor, and you can also feel the weight that he's carrying right now although you don't know what's going on yet.

"come here, what's wrong?" you wrapped your arms around his upper body, he rested his head on your shoulder again. "rough day at work? exhausted? tell me, baby..."

the caressing on his back made him feel calmer. San sighed so deeply. "i am not going to have rough days at work for a while because the investors in our company are now gone..."

you felt like tearing up when you heard that tone. it was low, and sad... this is your first time hearing your boyfriend talk like this and it's breaking your heart.

"oh, baby..," you gave him a couple of pats on his back. "you're going to be alright. i mean, it's fine to feel that way for now. but we're going through this, okay?"

"i know.." his tone sounded a lot better now. "it's just... i don't know, it kind of hurt me. I've been working for that company for almost two years now and it's going to close out of nowhere. i am just going to miss them. plus, i don't think i could ever stand being just here all day, doing and earning nothing."

"no, love, shush," you broke the hug and looked straight to his eyes. "come on, it's going to be fine. i will help you find a new job. but for now, the world won't end if you would just stay at home for a while with me, right? i will take care of you."

he painted an upside down smile and pulled you again for a hug. "alright then.. i just couldn't help but to feel bad. but I'm fine now that i head those from you."

"yeah..." you caressed his back once again. "would you do me a favor?"

you know so well that San is kind of workaholic... well, it's because he wants to earn and earn for his and your future together. he likes to invest in big things. he's been very helpful when it comes to financial problems, especially to his friends. that's one of the millions of things that you love about him—he is truly reliable, dependable all the time.

he can't stand it whenever he's not doing something productive. well, if it's not a job to work on, he'll be all over you; spoiling you, taking care of you as if you're a queen, taking you everywhere you'd like, just EVERYTHING. sometimes you'd feel bad because he's just doing things for you and often forgets to do something for himself, but then he would reassure you that he's fine and would finally do something about it just so you won't feel bad anymore.

"what favor?" he asked back.

"will you please stop thinking about getting a job for a while? maybe a month or two? just... i want you to get some rest, you need that. we have more than enough here, my love. what's very important right now is that you get some relaxation and time for yourself. everything's taken care of, keep that in mind. will you?" you asked him with the calmest, sweetest tone ever—the one that he won't even dare to disagree with.

he nodded, his head still on your shoulder but now lighter. "i will, baby. thank you, i love you. maybe i have been overworking a bit... i will rest for now."

"perfect," your eyes shined. you broke the hug and kissed his forehead. "now, come with me. i'll do something to make you feel better."

"but i already feel better—"

"just shut it and come with me," you glared at him, and he looked at you with his eyes smiling.

"how's that feel?"

San feels like dreaming — like he's on the clouds and there are angels singing for him.

he didn't answer your question yet. the whole bathroom is filled with nothing but silence.

he's like a child sitting on the toilet while you are shampooing and massaging his head. this is the kind of therapy that he's been craving for—too bad, why did you just think of it now? you could have made him feel good in this way before.

"hey? are you sleeping?" you whispered.

"i don't know what to say..." he whispered back, you almost didn't hear it. "heavenly..."

you smiled at the thought that maybe he's feeling so good. he really does. you're glad that you're finally making him feel this way...

"you should do this to me everytime that I'm taking a bath..." he murmured, eyes still closed. "will you?"

"you don't even have to ask." you replied. "i have been also wanting to do this but you take quick baths, how's that possible?"

he chuckled. "afraid to be late at work."

you two laughed silently.

"i'd do this to you as well, baby." he added. "maybe reward me with a kiss?"

"how many kisses are we talking about?"

[f1-disaster-bi]

"When you're upset, you do this... disappearing thing. You're doing it right now."

For Dando? 🩷

"Where did you go" Lando looked at Daniel in confusion. His brows drawn together, and a frown on his lips as he finally registered that Daniel was here. That Daniel had been here for the last half an hour, sitting in silence and watching him with worry. "I didn't go anywhere", Lando muttered, trying to muster a smile but he felt empty inside today. Lando hated when this happened. He'd been doing so good for so long. It had been a long time since he had woken up feeling nothing but an empty void in his chest. He didn't feel sad or angry or upset. Lando just felt nothing. It was as if there was a black hole in his body swallowin everything and leaving him with nothing but a bone deep exhaustion. Hands cupped his face gently, making Lando focus back on Daniel and the worried look on his boyfriends face. Not even that could make Lando feel something today, and he hated it. He hated that he couldn't even feel the warmth of his love for Daniel in his chest. "You just did it again, sunshine", Daniel whispered, thumb brushing under his right eye softly, "When you're upset you do this...disappearing thing. You're doing it right now, and that's okay. I just want you to know I'm here, yeah? I'm right here for whatever you need" Lando could feel the tears building but they didn't fall until Daniel pressed a delicate kiss to his forehead and it was like the damn had broken. Tears streaked down his cheeks, and Lando didn't make a sound. He just let them fall. Let Daniel brush them away and press soft kisses across his face until he was being bundled up in Daniel's arms where Lando felt safest. "I'm sorry", Lando choked on the tears, head tucked under Daniel's chin, "I don't know whats wrong with me. I can't...I just feel numb. I was doing so good and now I'm numb" Daniel's arms tightened around him. Across the room, Koa whined softly before getting up from his bed. He was across the room in moments and looking at Lando with his sweet brown eyes. He licked at Lando's wrist and fingers, pressing his nose against any part of Lando he could reach to comfort him. Lando loved his dog so much as he reached out a shakey hand to pet his soft ears as Daniel just held him close. "It's okay to have bad days" Daniel reassured, kissing his temple, "It's okay to fall down sometimes, sunshine. We all have days like this. You're not alone. You are not broken or weak. You are so strong and loved, and if you need to be sad today, then be sad. I'm here. I've got you. Tomorrow is a new day and even if all you do is take a shower, I will be proud of you" Lando tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, overwhelmed as always by the fact that Daniel was here to stay. He wasn't going to leave or run away. He was right here, holding him and willing to carry things for a bit until Lando was okay to carry himself again. "I love you so much" Lando managed to get out, managing to press a kiss to Daniel's neck softly. "I love you too, sunshine", Daniel whispered back, holding him closer as Koa wiggled his way onto the couch beside them, "More than words can ever describe"

[livebloggingmydescentintomadness]

This is a heavier ask so please ignore if you don't have the spoons or the desire to answer this. Also I hope you're doing well and having a good day and feeling happy and whole. I know I'm just a stranger on the Internet but you've been very helpful and sweet to my asks before, so I figured I'd try.

Momdad, can I have some gentleness? The best therapist I ever had just told me that she can't help me anymore and will refer me to someone else, but I feel so bad and broken and ashamed of my trauma and my mentally ill brain. I've been working a physical labor job so much, averaging 12-13 hour shifts, and I am so, so tired but I can't rest. I really want a hug but I have nobody around to help me.

oh, sweetie, i'm so sorry, that sounds really rough. i think you really deserve to just sit down for a minute and let yourself really know that this is an incredibly difficult situation and anyone would struggle underneath its weight.

i mean, if you grabbed anyone off the street and saddled them with this hard of a job and the fatigue it causes, the trauma you've been through, the mental illness you're dealing with, the loneliness and isolation, and then took away one of the few things that was helping keep them afloat, they'd have a really hard time with that, don't you think? i don't think it's feeling sorry for yourself to just let yourself acknowledge that life is really hard right now, and it's okay to struggle with something that's really hard. struggling in a really hard situation is not failure.

and you know what, if you need to cry about that, that is completely okay. if you need to rant to an imaginary person about every difficult thing you're facing, that's totally okay. it's taken me a long time to learn, but bottling it all up just doesn't help. you've gotta let the pressure out somehow.

the fact that you've made it this far tells me that you're really, really strong, but as someone who is also strong, i know how that can almost feel like a curse sometimes. because we shouldn't HAVE to be this strong, should we? we shouldn't have to carry loads so heavy that all we want to do is fall apart, but we know we can't, because we have to be strong. it fucking sucks.

it's so damn hard to internalize, but being weak isn't the end of the world. being tired, and sad, and damaged, and lonely, and sick, and wanting everything to be different... it doesn't make you less. it just makes you human. all of us are fucked up and flawed and broken, no matter how hard we pretend otherwise.

please give yourself as many little moments of weakness that you can, honey. give yourself crying, give yourself telling someone how you feel, give yourself something soft or funny or warm. give yourself not making things harder by telling yourself it shouldn't be this hard. it IS this hard, and no, somebody else wouldn't be handling it better. it really does suck this much, and you're doing the fucking best you can.

i really hope the new therapist will turn out to be really good for you, and i hope you get that hug from someone. i'm here, of course, but try to be gentle with yourself too, love. take care. <3

[miimyla]

The Devil’s Mask

Contains:Gore,Death,Murder,Weapon Use,Su!cide Mention,Illness, Knifeplay,Ser!al K!ller

Genre:Horror/slight romance

Word Count:1185 words

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

November 23rd the day before my birthday, I stand in my cabin next to Beach Micqui with my bags in hand. I go to lock the door behind me when I notice the lock on the door is busted “Well shit...”. For the past two years I've been coming to this cabin everything has been slowly falling apart, I guess now that includes the lock on the door. I take one of the chairs I have to furnish the cabin and place it under the door knob, “Lets hope you work.” I set my bags down on the bed while I noticed how I left everything from when I was here last time, I saw a few of my crystals I left behind for good energy. ‘That's not how I left them’, I walk over to my crystals rearranging them into the right order. “Okay...a little weird but I guess,” I walk back over to the bed deciding to lay down and chill for a bit

Time skip

I kneel in front of the calm and still water on the beach, as I stare at the water I can feel the cool ocean mist hitting me bringing me back to my 21’st birthday. “I hope you feel better mom and dad,” a tear falls down my cheek thinking back to the bloody ocean and the motionless bodies of my parents laying on the shore with blood pooling around their neck. The image of my parents in the water snaps me out of my daze, their faces contorted and demonic, “mom? Dad?” I swipe my hand across the water, the faces of my parents washing away into the sea as I sit on the sand with clear concern on my face. I blink the shock away and stand up walking back to the cabin “I think that's enough for tonight.”

Silent Reaper

Seeing her like this, scared with sadness filling her mind and eyes, it excites me. I've had many victims in my time, but none are as intriguing as she is. “I think i'll enjoy this one.” My eyes follow her as she walks back to her cabin, analyzing every part of her. Once I see the lights flicker off I move from the shadows of the beach waiting in front of her cabin for an hour before going up to her door. I stand in front of her cabin attempting to push open the door that I removed the lock from. The door instead only opens slightly before I move whatever was in the way. “You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

My words come out as a whisper when I lay my eyes on her motionless body. I take my knife from my back pocket, dragging it softly from her ankles to the top of her chest. Every time her skin quivers at the touch of the cold sharp knife it just makes me want to do it more. My eyes roam over her almost dead like body and the knife following close behind, “Don't worry darling i'll hear you scream eventually.” Her still body mesmerizes me for a second, I move towards the door walking backwards, my eyes never leaving her until the door closes on me, leaving me in the shadows of the beach once again.

Lillith

My eyes struggle to open seeing the sun peer in through my window to my eyes. “Damn this window.” The mornings ,or at least what I call mornings which are actually around noon, are always the worst but just my luck that this damned cabin never lets me sleep in. My body rolls itself out of bed as my eyes struggle to rub the sleepiness out of my eyes, as I desperately try to get rid of the groggy fog that washes over my mind as my eyes dart to the shuffled chair. Shivers run down my spine when I move closer to the chair, my shaky hand picks up a small post it note with a bit of writing on it.

“Hopefully you like knives,” I've always liked dark romance and horror but I’m not stupid enough to stay here and get killed. My feet shuffle across the floor quickly, shoving every one of my possessions into any bag I can find. After a few hours of packing everything i can into my bags- which at this point the zippers don't even close because of how much stuff I put in there- I carry my heavy ass bags to my car. I get into the car, placing my keys into the ignition. Nothing, the sound of a failed engine not turning on makes my heart sink. “No...not now please...” it's hopeless, no matter how many times i turn the keys or jump start the car it doesn't turn on. Through my teary eyes I see a figure, and it does not look like a friendly mechanic that's here to help me fix my car so I can leave this hell hole.

Silent Reaper

Watching her tears run down her face as she desperately tries to escape...I wanna make her blood spill on the same sand where I made her parents beg and plead for their lives. I raise my hand to wave at her, she screams and squirms in her car which only makes me more excited. I move my feet towards her car but slowly, I want to see if she's a beggar like her parents or a fighter. I watch her open her car door and run towards the small road, my eyes go wide- I always love a good chase. I run after her and it surprisingly takes me a bit of time till I grab her from behind carrying her back to the beach. “Please...ill do anything- just please let me go” she said her tears breaking up her voice “I see you're a beggar just like your parents,” I throw her back down onto the sand crawling over her cause she won't escape from me that easily.

Lillith

My parents?... I knew before that it never made sense why they killed themselves but to hear that he was there, I'm not gonna let this bitch get away with this that easily. “Dont worry doll I will savor your screams” he says in such a condescending voice “Savor this bitch.” I place my hand and force into him, I feel his grip loosen on me slightly and I take my chance. I roll us over and hold him in place with my legs as my hands plunge down with the knife. With every single time that knife swings down it eases a part in my brain, I go faster and faster, my lips curling into a wide smile. I finally stop but my smile never fades, I pick up his mask from the sand and place it on my head. In the distance I hear voices and cackling, my head snaps in the direction of the noise and my grip on the knife tightens. I wonder what their screams will sound like.

[stormyoceans]

vv brainrot continuation:

dad, I missed you (mom, I missed you)

that cute "feels so good" sound (pink drink, I really want to try it)

hugs in bed are the same as after joob’s funeral

part 3/4 damn music from vice versa! aof, fuck, just admit everything already!

we got lost (and found our local glasshouse)

bonfires and songs with guitar

return of shirts (and they smell like each other. what could be more erotic)

interrupted kiss (okay, not because of bad breath)

the description of the sky is worthy of rawi’s palette the guys were right, this damn miss universe appeared before our eyes. lord, I'm not completely alive, monica. what about you? you know, maybe sea didn’t lie, and the remaining episodes won’t be sad even despite the breakup, bc the worst and most expected has already happened, and then everything will go easier. william's song brought me to tears, it's beautiful! and I liked day's version. its so romantic. but, forgive me, the bed scene could have been much better, the angles and amount of blur didn’t turn out very well, and, tbh, I expected more tactility from day, so that he could study mork’s body with his hands. it was so important to him, but they showed it to us very quickly and didn’t spend enough time on it. but I really liked that they were presented as switch, moving away from the nightmare clichés, it's great. the scene on the mountain is the pinnacle of it all, and lord knows the boys pulled it off superbly. it was so emotional. I crumbled like sand and don’t know how I’ll recover by next week. monica, share your brainrot, I’m sure I missed everything possible bc I was so busy in the bed scene.

SORRY PINKYBRAIN IM AFRAID IM GONNA BE COMPLETELY USELESS THIS TIME AROUND I SWEAR I EVEN TRIED TO REWATCH THE EPISODE TO PICK UP MORE PARALLELS BUT I ONLY ENDED UP SOBBING ON THE FLOOR WHILE CLUTCHING A BUNCH OF SCREENSHOTS TO MY CHEST

and you've already pointed out all of these moments but allow me to put them side by side anyway because!!!!!!!

[CHANTS] COMFORT SHIPS COMFORT SHIPS COMFORT SHIPS PORTRAYED BY THE MOST COMFORT BOYS JUST SO COMFORT SHAPED COMFORT SHIPS!!!!!!!!!

and even if these two moments can’t really be compared THEY INVENTED EMOTIONAL FOREHEAD TOUCHES TOO!!!!!!!!

my personal emotional devastation aside, tho, i do think there are some parallels to be drawn between episode 9 of vice versa and episode 9 of last twilight, between puen on an island finally accepting his life in the original universe and by the end "gaining sight" on who talay really is, and day on a mountain finally accepting going blind and having his last sight being mork. i also think it's interesting that in last twilight (the ost) at one point there's the line "my heart cherishes the memory of us" while in vice versa the very last line of friend credits' second movie is "though we aren't together tomorrow, you're always here in my memories". like idk if it's a reach but both shows are about seeing when you can't really see (not just in the literal physical sense) and acceptance and carrying this love that helped you through it all with you and i just think someone with a brain activity currently higher than my own could make some connections!!!!!!!!

i personally did like the sex scene (i've talked about it here a little if you're interested), but i think i also get what you mean. if it were for me we would definitely have gotten a 17 minutes long one take focused on day's hands as he traced every part of mork's body starting from his face and slowly making his way down to his feet. but at the same time i wonder if it would have made sense for their first time. i feel like day was already so preoccupied with his sight being almost gone that what he needed in that moment was to get lost in the feelings rather than commit mork's body to memory. and who knows, last twilight has already broken p’aof’s habit of having only a couple of kisses in his shows, maybe it will make him give us another intimate scene too!!!

[mjrdm]

I've saved an inbox ask as a draft (worst mistake of my life) and Tumblr ate it up like a starving victorian child😭 It was about Baron and Jenkins . obviously by beloved @kind-of-a-shitty-wizard🤭

I will try to be brief (1/435) /ref

I like how tooth-rotting sweet they are but ALSO they're toxic doomed old man yaoi. They're toxic and doomed because Baron is. well. not as wholesome as he seems to be🤭

(me as npc because . um . //runs away)

So I made this ship on sheer "I WANT HIM!!!" force but the more I think about them the more I realise that they're . very similar . in a lot of ways . But it's hard to see at first, they're both masking a lot and will do around each other for some time.

DISCLAIMER: cw for murder themes suggestive themes suicidal ideation etc etc. look at them lmao you must see what to expect. minors moots dni please😔

So what the fuck is wrong with Baron? Well, it's suicidal ideations that transformed into a weird sexual thing actually🫣

(timeline: after the killer reveal comic)

Good fucking lord. Elven gods save this man (impossible).

I mentioned that Baron was an opera singer once, and that's not just some fact, it's pretty big part of his lore that affected him greatly. Theatre was his life, he was it, embodied. It was a dream come true, best life anyone could wish for. He made money doing what he loved the most, he posessed talent, he was praised. He carried high values he's seen and played on scene into his adult life and still acts very noble and selfless. As the heroes he transformed into. But he was foolish, naive, perhaps too kind-hearted. It looked like an accident - he just lost his voice one day because of some unexplained sickness. He was devastated and could not work anymore, so his fiance, prima ballerina of the same theatre, left him soon after. His life was over in a span of a month What ACTUALLY happened was that he was betrayed by people he trusted the most - best friend, fellow singer, who envied him, and fiance, who helped him. Said friend cursed him and got rid of him that way. They became new stage stars after that. Baron is either too kind-hearted to think of that or he already knows but just in so much denial.

I don't think I mentioned it, but Baron is around 45 and this happened 10 years ago. So all this time he's been sad, miserable and worked wherever just to get paid. The life was over for him the day he lost his voice and since he has nothing to do anymore, he patiently waits to die... Passively, because he can't bring himself to actually do it. But he thinks about it. A lot. Daydreams, even.

This whole thing turned into another . ermm . thing . that I don't think can be fixed at this point. He just can't help but be excited at the prospect of violence, blood, guts and murder (ideally, his).

If he's going to die anyway, he can at least want it to be his way. How will this happen? Will he be hit by a train? Nah, too simple. Is he going to fall from the hand of some older depressed man or woman? GODS he wishes it that way. Or maybe something else <З He has a list with top 10 death ideas <З pinterest board and a spotify playlist <З

Tom Lehrer - The Masochism Tango starts playing

I wouldn't say that he tried THAT hard to find a new passion in life but he has depression so I forgive him. Of all people I know what it's like.

Same with Jenkins LMAO. They have no concept of other things in life, too blinded by what they want to have/had but lost. Stuck in thoughts of the future/past. When Jenkins is overwhelmed he hurts others, when Baron is overwhelmed he hurts himself.

Jenkins is miserable, but if he'll say it out loud it will become reality and he won't be that cool and collected and content man he imagines himself to be🫣*

So here comes the Rockposrt Limited and Jenkins and. damn. that man is sooo fine...

It's not like Baron didn't have anyone since his fiance but . It was just flings and friends and he didn't expect Jenkins thing to be any different than that. He had some love to share and oh boy did Jenkins need it.

But he fell so fucking hard it's equally fascinating AND worrisome. Like if he wasn't mentally ill pathetic wet dog with danger kink I think they could still repeat this iconic scene like:

"Well, you don't understand Baron- fu-- I'm a serial killer actually." "Well, nobody's perfect!!!<З"

He will spoil Jenkins ROTTEN since he makes normal amount of money as an engineer but doesn't need/want/wishes for anything, he doesn't spend it, he works kinda just to keep himself busy... He will treat Jenkins like a sugar baby and court him like a noble knight might court a fair lady.

He can't open up, not until he tells his heart's aches, and Jenkins can't open up too without revealing his darker side, so it's like a game to them. A roleplay of courting where everything is nice and smooth and comfortable and they never show unpleasant emotion. Jenkins likes to be cared for.

And then murder reveal happens and . um .

He's down BAD... LIKE... VERY BAD...

(I feel like the whole killing thing is just his attraction to people with power to change life, in the most extreme way. He has no control over life and jenkins has neither but he takes it in his two hands and changes destiny. Baron cannot. Could never. But he can admire that ability)

I like how it almost feels one-sided in a sense that Baron cares for Jenkins deeply and is ready to join his shenanigans any time of day and night. Bloody murder? Back massage? Weekend entertainment? I'm here, love.

Jenkins couldn't open a ketchup jar and didn't want to use his spell slot. chaos ensured

IT'S NOT THAT BAD because, as I said, Baron didn't really find any passion in life and Jenkins will become his passion. He will dedicate himself, he will be obsessed in the most sweet and wholesome way. He's in love. And who Jenkins is (underappreciated, unloved, uncared, neglected) to say no to this??

And it's not actually one-sided because when Jenkins will learn to read Baron like an open book, he's gonna be smart and know what the man needs. He's gonna know what he needs to say and do, and he won't fix him just as Baron won't ever fix him, but keeping him alive and barely content is more that sun elf could ever ask for <З

They're actively make each other worse by becoming more codependant each day <З None of them knows healthy copic mechanisms <З But at least they can rely on each other and that's something <З

*Back to the topic I'll add this little thing (can't write for shit):

-... I wish I was dead. - Baron finished his story, voice trembling. His eyes open wide, already watering, and he covers his mouth with hand as if he wasn't going to say the last part. Like if he said it out loud it would become his reality and not a mere thought, which is what he tried to convince himself of for a long time. Jenkins thinks, then, that he can do it. He can fulfill man's wish and take his life, easily, as he has done so many times before. It could be an honor to feel elf's last breath, be the last thing he'll ever see. He would rather do it himself that leave it to someone else, someone with unsteady hand. He can't leave it to someone who won't honor Baron the way he deserved. It's a pleasant thing to think about. But Jenkins grew fond of having the man around. And Jenkins was selfish. "This is an unfortunate situation, " he just says, deliberately.

BUT THEY'RE SWEET!!! So many smart words for such a silly dynamic. I don't think about it that much it all is just at the back of my mind... They're going to be madly in love actually. They're going to be partners in crime. Jenkins is very Yzma-coded so I watch clips with Yzma and Kronk and imagine them😭 I also watch Addams Family clips and it's also them😭😭😭

ok I've been editing this post for a week or even longer I have no brain left anymore so sorry this is it. the sillies. I daydream about them daily. Jenkins deserves to have a silly devoted sidekick that will love him endlessly

honorable mentions I don't know where to add:

Baron is not his . real name . he used his first one around close people and now he feels naked using it so he doesn't. maybe he will around Jenkins, one day. I HEADCANON THAT JENKINS IS NOT JENKINS' REAL NAME ALSO. he probably had something SILLY and then took it as cover-up name and grew used to it. same hat? same hat.

Mmmhhh I like imagining Baron having a slight german accent, especially with his T's and R's. He usually talks real low and is sounds like a pleasant mumur, but if he tries to talk louder it sounds like he straight up drank chlorine and/or smoked a pack a day since the day he was born. His throat hurts sometimes

To the pain topic: I think Jenkins has scoliosis + bad posture + constant pressure on his choulders so he's two minutes away from becoming the butler little nightmares. this shit must huuurt