#and he took it so far that two periods after he made up A WHOLE SONG MOCKING NY DRAWING AND LIKE HALF THE CLASS WAS SINGING IT WITH HIM

[sinkovia]

Consequences

-Simon Riley x Fem!Reader

Angst, mention of miscarriage, mention of death, blood.

Alternative ending

You sat on your bed, a book in hand, your other hand gently resting on your stomach. The room was filled with a warm and serene atmosphere as you flipped through the pages. You were reading about first-time parents and tips on what to do when you first bring your baby home. It was a moment of quiet joy, and you couldn't help but smile.

You were happier than ever, your face radiant with the anticipation of the life growing inside you. After a string of painful miscarriages, you had made it past the usual time period of uncertainty. You were now six months pregnant, and the relief of reaching this milestone was evident in your expression.

You and Ghost had been trying for a baby for the past two years. Each time you got pregnant, you miscarried around the three-month mark. His deployments often left you feeling lonely in the house, and it was time for you to expand your family. The idea of having children had always been a shared dream, and you were now well on your way to realizing it.

Ghost had just returned home, his hands full of grocery bags, which he placed on the table with a heavy thud. He was in the midst of a heated phone call, and you could hear his loud, strained voice from the adjacent room. Closing the book, you set it down on the nightstand and slowly made your way to the kitchen, your footsteps filled with a sense of anticipation.

His voice grew louder as you approached, you strained to listen as you heard his words spill from his mouth, the tension and frustration evident in his tone. He cursed in exasperation, abruptly ending the call and slamming the phone down on the kitchen counter, the resounding noise echoing in the room.

"Is everything okay?" you asked him, walking up slowly, your voice filled with concern. He took a deep breath, his gaze heavy and tired, and then turned to face you.

"Price is deploying me," his words landed like a heavy blow. Your heart sank, and your eyes began to well up with tears.

"What do you mean Price is deploying you? You told me that you talked to him about not sending you on missions while I was pregnant," your voice shaking with emotion. You took a step closer, desperation creeping into your tone.

"You did talk to him, right?" searching for any sign of reassurance. But he wouldn't meet your gaze, his eyes fixed on the counter. Your heartache deepened, and a single tear escaped, tracing a path down your cheek.

"Simon!" you cried, flinching as he slammed his fists down onto the counter. He raised his voice, his frustration turning into anger.

"For fuck's sake, Y/n! No, I didn't talk to him!" he shouted, and you were stunned into silence. The words he spoke were a painful betrayal. You remembered vividly that he had assured you he'd spoken to Price about this.

"I never got around to it, okay? I didn't think you would make it this far. I assumed you would miscarry again, so I didn't bother telling him. I'm sorry, okay?" he admitted, his voice laced with guilt. The room felt heavy with the weight of his confession, and disbelief washed over you as you struggled to comprehend what he had just revealed. Your heart felt as if it had been torn in two. The man you loved and trusted had let you down in a way you never thought possible.

"Are you serious, Simon?" The disbelief and pain in your voice was thick as you confronted him. "This whole time, you were just pretending to be happy, but in reality, you were just waiting for me to miscarry again?" The weight of your words hung heavily in the air, and you fixed your gaze on him, waiting for his response.

He couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eye as you spoke to him, and his voice was heavy with guilt as he admitted, "Yes." Your tears were now falling freely, and your chest ached with the pain of betrayal. He moved past you, grabbing his keys from the counter, his actions leaving you bewildered.

"Where are you going?" you asked, your voice a mixture of confusion and hurt. You moved closer, positioning yourself between him and the door, your determination to address the situation clear in your eyes.

"I'm going out; I need a drink," he responded, his words sounding callous and uncaring. You scoffed in disbelief, feeling the need to get to the bottom of this situation.

"No, you're not. We need to talk about this—" You reached for his hand, but he forcefully ripped it away, turning to glare down at you, his anger laid bare.

"There's nothing to fucking talk about, y/n. I'm deploying in two weeks, and nothing will change that!" He raised his voice, his frustration evident.

Your heart ached as you took a step back, struggling to understand his behavior. "Why are you acting like this? Why are you yelling at me?" you asked, your voice trembling as tears continued to fall.

"Because I'm fucking stressed, y/n. I didn't think you would make it this far into your pregnancy. Now, I'm getting deployed, and I don't know when I'll be back," he snapped, his own frustrations and anxieties taking over.

"Why are you taking it out on me?" You couldn't hold back the pain in your voice. "It's not my fault you didn't tell Price. You should have told him. I'm six months pregnant, Simon! How long were you going to wait until you told him?"

"Did I say it was your fault?!" he shot back, his anger flaring. "I know what I should have done, but I didn't, and now we are here. Now, get the fuck out of my way."

The harshness in his words cut deep, and you looked up at him in disbelief. He had never spoken to you like this before. While you knew his temper could be volatile, he had never taken it out on you in such a way.

"No, I don't want you to leave," you pleaded, trying to keep him from walking out the door. "We need to work this out, Simon. You know how I feel about things like this." You were insistent on resolving conflicts, always wanting to talk things through.

"I don't care how you feel; I don't want to talk about this right now," he retorted, his voice filled with frustration. "I need a fucking drink, so get out of my way." The desperation in his words hung in the air, and you couldn't believe the person he was becoming in this moment.

You shook your head, tears welling in your eyes. "No, I won't let you leave." Your resolve was strong, and you were determined to keep him here until you could address the issues at hand. His frustration had pushed him to a point where he was leaving the house in anger, but you couldn't let that happen. You would never let him leave the house when you guys were upset with one another. It was always something you were insistent on.

His hands went to your shoulders, and he harshly moved you out of the way. You stumbled, almost losing your balance, but you steadied yourself. He walked out the door, slamming it behind him, leaving you alone with a heavy heart and a whirlwind of emotions. You couldn't hold back the overwhelming flood of emotions that consumed you, and you collapsed onto the floor, your body wracked with deep, wrenching sobs.

In all the time you had been together, he had never laid his hands on you in anger like that. His temper was known to flare, but this was an entirely new level of intensity, especially considering he was the one at fault for the situation. You remained on the floor for what felt like an eternity, weeping into your hands, your heart heavy with a mixture of pain, betrayal, and despair. It was an hour of solitude in your sorrow before you mustered the strength to get up.

Getting up to your feet, you made your way to your room, your phone in hand, desperate to reach him. You attempted to call him, your fingers trembling. But just as you were about to press the call button, a sharp and agonizing pain coursed through your stomach, stopping you in your tracks. You were begging, repeating the words, "Please, not again," as you made your way to the bathroom, tears filling your eyes. You were in agony and feared for the well-being of your baby.

You collapsed on the bathroom floor as the pain became nearly unbearable, unlike anything you had experienced before. It felt as though your insides were being torn apart, and you couldn't bear it. With trembling hands and tears streaming down your face, you pressed the dial button and called Simon, your voice choked with pain and desperation.

You cried out as the agony radiated through your body, each moment feeling like an eternity. The phone rang and rang, but there was no answer from him. It eventually went to voicemail, leaving you with a sinking feeling of abandonment and despair. As the pain intensified and your vision blurred, you set the phone down on the bathroom floor, your sobs echoing through the empty room.

Your trembling hands moved between your legs, coming away soaked in blood. Panic and fear gripped your heart as you propped yourself up against the toilet, leaning over it for support. Desperation consumed you as you reached for your phone once more, this time dialing 911 in a desperate attempt to get help.

But the blood on your fingers made it difficult, and the phone slipped from your grasp, landing with a sickening splash in the toilet. Your heart sank as you watched the screen turn black, your lifeline to assistance lost in the crimson-stained water.

Tears streamed down your face as you sat on the bathroom floor, gripping your stomach. You watched as the blood began to pool beneath you, and you cried out in anguish. You mustered all the strength you could, attempting to get up from the cold, hard bathroom floor. You needed to get help. Panic and agony coursed through you as you struggled to rise.

The pain was unbearable, and you knew something was terribly wrong. This was beyond the point of a typical miscarriage, given how far along you were in your pregnancy.

As you moved, a searing, relentless pain tore through your body, causing you to scream out in sheer agony. You lay on the bathroom floor, helpless and writhing in pain, your body refusing to cooperate.

An hour had passed, and in your hands, you held your stillborn baby. You sat against the bathroom wall, surrounded by a growing pool of your own blood. Emotions swirled within you, leaving you feeling numb and empty. You asked yourself what you had done to deserve this.

Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring the world around you as you sat there, grappling with the reality of the fifth baby you lost. Your body was supposed to be nurturing new life, but instead, it had betrayed you once again. It felt like a cruel and never-ending nightmare.

With great pain and effort, you retrieved a small box from under the sink. You had experienced miscarriages so often that you'd prepared for such moments, stashing the small boxes under the sink. Gently, you placed your baby inside and closed the lid, tears still silently falling.

You lay on the cold, tiled bathroom floor in a growing pool of blood, your body trembling with exhaustion and pain.

In your arms, you cradled the small, delicate box, the weight of grief pressing heavily on your chest. Every passing moment seemed to drain you further, and the relentless flow of blood showed no signs of stopping.

Each breath became more laborious, your vision blurred, and you could feel your strength waning with each passing second. Your sobs and cries were replaced by an eerie silence as you struggled to hold on, the world fading around you as you clung to the precious, heartbreaking reminder of the life that would never be.

Ghost, sitting at the bar with Soap, had been sharing the situation he was in. It was late into the night, and the bar's dim lighting seemed to reflect the weight on Ghost's shoulders.

He ended up calling Price again, explaining that you were pregnant, and the conversation had been a long and tense one, going back and forth as they argued about the deployment. Finally, Price made the decision not to deploy Ghost on the mission.

With a deep exhale, Ghost felt a mixture of relief and guilt. He knew he had to make things right with you for the hurtful words he had spoken. For the way he treated you when you only wanted to talk it out. For breaking the promise you made to each other to never leave the house when one was upset with the other. Soap patted him on the back, offering his support and reminding Ghost that he really needed to make it up to you.

They ordered a few more drinks, and as the night wore on, they both realized they were in no condition to drive. It was then that they decided to walk to Soap's house, which was conveniently located only five minutes from the bar.

Their plan was to return in the morning, and whoever was in better shape would drive to the store to pick up the things Ghost needed for you.

Morning came, and they walked back to the bar to retrieve Ghost's car. Ghost ended up driving to the store where they selected a variety of items, ultimately deciding to make a basket filled with things you liked.

In the passenger seat Soap arranged the items in the basket while Ghost took a quick detour to the florist, picking out the largest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers he could find before going home.

Soap followed close behind Ghost as they entered the house, he placed the gift basket in the kitchen, and Ghost slowly made his way to the bedroom. He slowly opened the door, and noticed that you weren't in bed so he started to walk over to the bathroom.

He stopped dead in his tracks as he noticed the blood that had seeped from under the bathroom door. Panic surged through him as he rushed to open the door.

His heart dropped, and his breath caught as he found you lifeless, lying in a pool of blood. Your gaze was far away, and you held a small box beside you. He recognized it immediately – the same small boxes you used for the miscarriages.

With a rush of emotions, he took a hesitant step forward, but his balance wavered as he almost slipped on the blood-soaked floor. Rushing to your side, he carefully set the small box aside, his trembling hands unsteady. Ghost cradled your cold face in his hands, tears streaming from his eyes as he sat on the floor, your blood seeping into his clothes.

"Y/n baby look at me, please look at me, love. You're okay, it's okay, it's going to be okay."

He called out for soap, who was in the kitchen. Soap attempted to approach you, but Ghost, his voice strained with grief and guilt yelled at him.

"Johnny just call 911!" he hurried to the kitchen to make the call, leaving Ghost alone, cradling your lifeless form, lost in a world of anguish and guilt.

He called out to you, his voice a desperate plea, but there was no response. Ghost's cries of anguish filled the small bathroom, echoing the unbearable pain in his heart. Tears streamed down his face, and he continued to rock back and forth, cradling you against him.

His voice quivered as he muttered, "I'm so sorry, y/n... It's all my fault... I should have told Price… I should have told him…" he breathlessly whispered against your cold cheek. The weight of his regret was crushing, and the burden of knowing that his actions had led to this moment was almost too much to bear.

Simon held your lifeless body in his arms, the weight of your cold form pressing on him physically and emotionally. The room felt suffocating, and the air was thick with the metallic scent of blood and grief. As he cradled you, all he could think about was the what-ifs and the guilt that gnawed at his conscience.

His mind tried to replay the scene of your final moments over and over. The thought that you were in pain, alone, and scared haunted him. He pictured you suffering, reaching out for help, and he wasn't there for you. The echoes of laughter and clinking glasses from the bar where he was drinking seemed deafening in his mind. While he was having drinks with Johnny you were here, alone and dying.

His eyes wandered to the toilet, where he saw your phone lying there. A chilling realization struck him — that missed call he ignored. Did the phone slip from your weakening grasp after calling him for help? Did you wait for a lifeline that never came? Guilt, heavy and consuming, pressed down on him, making every breath a struggle.

In that heartbreaking moment, Simon felt the weight of the consequences of his actions. The regret and sorrow mingled with the deafening silence of your absence, creating a painful symphony of remorse that would echo in his heart forever.

The memory of his last words to you, spoken in anger, haunted him. Those words, "I don't care how you feel," echoed in his mind like a relentless mantra. He wished he could turn back time, go back to that moment, and change everything.

He longed to take back the hurtful words he'd spoken and to be there for you in your time of need. He wished he had never stressed you to the point of pushing you into another miscarriage. But it was too late, and the reality of the consequences of his actions had come crashing down on him.

Grief enveloped him as he clung to your lifeless body, your silence an agonizing reminder of the happiness he had let slip through his fingers. The guilt and regret were insurmountable, and Ghost's world had shattered into a never-ending nightmare of his own making.

Alternative ending

[everyonewooeverywhere]

NSFW BLOG | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

chapter 1 : oh shit. a cowboy.

summary: when you come into his shop to get your boyfriend's car fixed, yunho can help but wonder what a hardworking, pretty girl like you is doing with someone so...pathetic. and maybe, just maybe, he feels like he could treat you better.

pairing: cowboy mechanic!yunho x female!reader

genre: non-idol au | strangers to lovers | angst | fluff (no smut yet, but there will be eventually)

rating: 18+ (for the whole series bc there will be smut eventually)

word count: 4.9k

content/warnings: pet names (sweetheart, doll), strangers to lovers, toxic relationship, yeonjun slander 😗 (sry baby), yj and reader get into a pretty big fight

notes: literally thank you so much to @ateez-main-yapper for helping me write this! like this would not exist without her letting me yap in her dms. or letting her help build the story up. or asking her to help edit. this was a two woman job 🙂‍↕️ so thank you baby 💗

ALSO there have been a couple changes and edits from the teaser, so not everything of the first 1k words is the same ☺️

and YES there will be a part 2 (& 3 💀) so PLEASE don't ask for it 😭 she will come when she's ready

Where the fuck was this place? You took another turn down another shaded alley, the sky strangely overcast for two in the afternoon.

The tapping of your fingers on the steering wheel was the only music since the stereo had broken months ago when Yeonjun slammed his fist against it in a fit of rage when you asked him to skip his gig this weekend to attend your sister’s wedding. Now it just blinked periodically when the car hit a bump, giving it miniscule signs of life. And for a man who focused his whole life around his music, he seemed uncharacteristically uninterested in getting it repaired. And maybe it would never get fixed because you could only afford to get the big issues fixed today.

After six wrong turns you finally pulled into the parking lot. Your friend had recommended this garage when you’d told her this car had been having all sorts of issues, and she insisted on here. You had your doubts when she pulled up the Instagram of one of the mechanics to show you the shop and ended up going on about how hot he was for several minutes, but you didn’t really have any other options.

It looked official enough. The brick building was large enough to house two large garage doors that opened up the shop to the dusty parking lot. Peering inside, you could see that there weren't many people inside the garage. There were only two mechanics in your line of sight, the closer of the two venturing back and forth between his toolbox and the taillights of an old Chevy, and you were their only customer as far as you could tell. You shrugged, Maybe they’re understaffed. 

You shrugged before swinging the car door open and grabbing your purse out of the passenger’s seat, brushing off your pants before you made your way in. There wasn’t a front desk or a receptionist to talk to, and you got the feeling that this shop was solely run and staffed by the men inside. 

You spent several moments hovering by one of the garage doors, shuffling your feet and trying to catch the eye of one of the mechanics, but neither of them looked up. Entirely too absorbed in their work to notice your presence. They must not get very busy. 

“Um…hello?” You spoke, trying not to startle either of them. 

They both turned to you, and the man who’d been fixing up the Chevy opened his mouth to speak. But he was cut off by his coworker, who jogged over from where he'd been partially hidden from view behind a rack of miscellaneous parts, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder and muttering a quick, “I’ve got her, Min.” 

“Min” chuckled and rolled his eyes, returning to his work.

Oh god. 

“Hey Doll, what can I do for ya?” Something about the way he sauntered up to you and smiled so gently immediately filled your stomach with butterflies, but you chose to ignore them for the sake of your own sanity.

Doll. That was a new one, and you felt that anyone else uttering that word toward you would’ve disgusted you to your core. But something about this stranger was strangely comforting. Maybe it was the way he tilted his head as he waited for you to speak. Maybe it was the baseball cap strewn backward on his head. Or maybe it was the strands of his taupe hair that fell in front of his face, strands you imagined yourself brushing up under his hat.

Your fingers fidgeted with the strap of your purse, “I’m, uh, having some car issues.”

The laugh he let out, and the curve of his lips that accompanied it, made the tips of your ears burn, “‘Course you are, sweetheart. Anything in particular, though?”

“Oh,” you chuckled softly along with him, “Well, he mentioned that the acceleration’s been kinda weird, and I thought the engine was a little loud when I drove it here today. Sorry, I don’t really know a ton about cars.”

He hummed and tapped his foot a couple of times, “Which one is it?” 

You pointed across the lot. 

“Alright, let me pull it into the garage,” he put his hand out in your direction. 

You stared at it, confused, and when you looked back up at his face he was smiling at you again. Stupid smile. He made your heart flutter more than you would’ve liked to admit.

“Keys, sweetheart. Your keys.”

“Oh,” you scrambled around in your purse before handing them over, embarrassed. 

He took them from you with a 'thanks doll' and a tip of his head, hand hovering over his forehead in a way that made you think he was used to wearing hats much bigger than this simple baseball cap. Before you could even question it further he was jogging across the lot and pulling the car through the big garage doors. 

When he stepped out of the car he looked at you curiously, “This your car?”

You shook your head, “No it’s my boyfriend’s. He’s been…busy…lately, so he hasn’t been able to bring it in. He keeps complaining about it, though, so I just decided to do it for him, I guess.”

He raised his eyebrow at you, nodding slowly. 

“What?” you asked, moderately offended.

He shook his head, waving a dismissive hand, “Nothing. Sorry. You just seemed a little unsure is all.”

“Yeah…I don’t know. I honestly think he just kept complaining so I would get tired of his whining and go on and get it fixed myself,” You chuckled awkwardly. Why the fuck were you telling him this? You started to feel a little embarrassed.

And that feeling only got worse when you saw the mildly horrified look on his face. 

You shook your head and ran a frustrated hand through your hair, “Can you just fix it?”

That pretty fucking smile came back, and your grip on your hair tightened just a little in frustration. “Of course I can. Glad you brought this in when you did, honestly. Seems like your boy toy’s got a bit of an exhaust leak. Could be pretty dangerous, so it's good to get it off the road.”

“Ah, perfect.” You shifted on your feet, “How long will it take, do you think?”

He lifted his hat and ruffled his messy hair before readjusting it on his head. Why did every little movement he made drive you crazy? “Unfortunately, issues like this take a couple days. I doubt I could get her done any sooner than tomorrow.”

You nodded, “Okay. I’ll try and get a ride home then.”

“Alright, Doll. Let me write down your number real quick so I–so we can call ya when she’s ready.”

You wrote down your name and number for him on a pink sticky note that he stuck to the dash. 

“Perfect!” He smiled at you, “We’ll call ya tomorrow.”

You couldn’t help but smile back, “Awesome! Thank you…Oh. I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

“Yunho. My name is Yunho, sweetheart. It’s nice to meet you.” He stuck out his hand for you to shake.

And you couldn’t help the ramming of your heart in your chest when he took your hand into his own.

Yunho watched as you stepped out into the parking lot to call someone, presumably that questionable boyfriend of yours who seemed to be way more trouble than he was worth. He couldn’t help how his heart had dropped when you told him you had a boyfriend in the first place. After a long while of singleness, he was kind of hoping to test the waters when he saw you, and it even seemed like you responded positively to his obvious flirtations.

“So a boyfriend, huh?” Mingi startled him from behind.

Yunho let out a small sigh, trying not to let himself get too worked up about it. You had only met twenty minutes ago for fucks sake. “Yeah, seems like a real piece of work though.”

“Really?” MIngi gave his friend a skeptical side-eye, “Or is that the jealously talking.”

“No, seriously! This is his car. And she said it’s been actin’ up for a while, but he never made the time to bring it in. She only brought it here ‘cause he wouldn’t stop whining ‘bout it.”

“Huh. Sounds kinda child-like to me, but who are we to judge? We haven't even met the dude,” Mingi pat his friend on the back, “Try not to let it get you down, man. I’m sure there’s a cowboy-lovin girl right around the corner waiting for you.”

Yunho nodded, moving along so Mingi would let the whole thing drop. But no matter how many times he repeated in his head that you were taken, he just couldn’t stop looking over in your direction. You just seemed so…tired. He didn’t want to assume, but he got the feeling that this boyfriend of yours might be the main cause of that. And try as he might to reign in his ego and keep it in check, he couldn't help the part of him that knew that, whatever this man was providing for you, he could do so much better. That wasn’t really his place, though. So he let you be. 

“Yeonjun what do you mean you’re busy? You were on the couch when I left an hour ago,” you sighed through the phone.

“Baby, come on. You know I have a gig tonight,” You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “And I need to get in the right headspace, so I can’t leave the apartment. It’ll ruin the mood.”

“Is that really more important than picking me up? I’m stuck here.”

“I don’t know. Call an Uber?” Oh, you were gonna kill him.

“What? Why would I pay for an Uber when I have a boyfriend at home with my perfectly functioning car who could drive his ass over here and pick me up? For free!”

You hated how difficult it was to get him to help you out in any way. Why did he have to be so stubborn? “Listen, I really can’t break my flow right now. Maybe wait a couple hours, and I’ll come pick you up, okay? Or maybe have one of your friends pick you up.”

“It’s 3 pm on a Tuesday, Jun. Most people are at–” He hung up on you, “Work..” You trailed off.

God, this is so embarrassing. What the hell were you going to do now? You could call an Uber, but you could barely afford groceries this week. And getting this car fixed was gonna drain the last of your paycheck. 

You bit at your lip anxiously, wracking your head for options. Your friends would be more than happy to pick you up, but most of them wouldn’t get off work for another two hours. So maybe you could just wait until then. Or maybe you could hitchhike? The highway was miles off. And your gut wrenched at the idea of a stranger knowing where you lived…But maybe that could work. Or maybe you cou–

“Everything alright out here, sweetheart?” 

You jumped at his voice, “Oh! Yeah,” you scratched at your head, trying to force a smile, “My boyfriend’s just really busy, so he can’t come get me.”

“Do you…need a ride?” He offered sincerely, “I don’t wanna overstep or anything, but I could help ya if you need it.”

“Oh god no! You don’t have to do that.”

He grinned softly at you, “It’s really nothing at all. I’ll tell you what, I’m leaving here in about an hour. If you can’t find a ride before that, you’ll let me give you drive you home.”

Just say ‘yes.’ Your brain was practically begging you to speak, but you knew this would cause an argument with Yeonjun. A random handsome man bringing you back to the apartment? Oh, it was a recipe for disaster. But what other choice did you have? It wasn’t like he was gonna pay for an Uber to help you home or pick you up himself. No, he left you stranded here with a shit reason, so you were gonna get home the best way possible, and, if it pissed him off, that was his own damn fault.

“Ok,” you smiled up at him, “If you really don’t mind.”

“Trust me, Doll, it’s no problem at all. Let me just finish a couple things up and change, and then we’ll get going, okay?”

You sat on the bench inside the shop while he finished his work. Trying to give yourself a moment to breathe. This was supposed to be your day off. You had finally been able to get a break from both of your jobs, and this is how you were spending it. Trying to fix the car of your boyfriend who couldn't even put his “pre-show ritual” on hold to make sure you got home safe. Part of you was mad at him. Livid that his priorities were so far in the gutter. But you were mostly angry at yourself. Because at the end of the day, when all was said and done, you were the one who had spent six whole years of your life bending over backward for a man who wouldn’t even reach out his arm to catch you. 

You worked two jobs to support the two of you. Your paychecks paid for groceries, rent, insurance, everything. And what did he pay for? Nothing. Because he didn’t have a job. He played two gigs every month at the dingy bar two miles from your apartment, which somehow justified not even bothering to look for employment. 

How did you even get here? A deep sigh rose out of your throat. What the hell were you doing all this for? Your head hurt just thinking about all the times he’d let you down and all the stupid little arguments those let-downs had caused. And yet you were still out here paying his bills and running his errands.

“Alright, sweetheart, ready to go?” You broke out of your spiral when he called for you, and you looked up to see him no longer in the denim and baseball cap he was sporting earlier. 

Lord help me. You silently prayed to whoever might be listening, swallowing around the sudden dryness in your throat. He was sporting a light blue button-down shirt with the top two buttons left open so his collarbones were exposed and a light brown cowboy hat that almost exactly matched his hair. A cowboy. Of course. You couldn’t help the racing of your heart as he reached to adjust the brim of his hat. Unsure of whether you wanted to praise or curse whatever fate had sent him your way.

You cleared your throat and stood up from the bench, barely pushing a ‘yes’ out of your mouth. 

He grinned and motioned for you to follow him to the parking lot. The innocent gesture left you lightheaded as you focused on the way his index and middle fingers curled towards his wrist.

As you approached, he gestured to a baby blue pickup truck, “Here she is. My baby.” You chuckled, endeared by the pet name, the image of him gently patting the hood of 'his baby' as he walked around the front of the truck with you reminding you of cowboys in old westerns, leaning their foreheads against their mares as they gently stroked their manes. 

It was sweet. So sweet that you almost missed the fact that he was coming around to the passenger side of the truck with you.

He brushed past you, reaching for the passenger-side door. Swinging it open, he held out a hand to you, and you took it without much thought. 

“Up you go,” he said with a playful lilt to his voice, helping you hold your balance as you climbed into the truck.

“Thank you, Yunho.”

“It’s not a problem at all, Doll. I got ya.” He was going to be the death of you for sure.

“Ten years. You’ve been working there that long?” you looked over at him, amazed, “How old are you?”

He let out a hearty laugh, “Twenty-five. Mingi and I used to come up after school every day and help out. His grandpa used to run the shop but he retired a few years back and left it to him.”

“Oh, that’s sweet!” The thought of a little Yunho sweeping the floors and vacuuming cars made you smile. 

He hummed, “Yeah, it’s been a real nice job. Flexible hours, good pay, get to meet pretty girls from time to time.”

The tips of your ears burned at his blatant flirting. You looked over to see him focused on the road in front of you. The rays of the late afternoon sun shone on his face, letting you see the tan glow of his skin up close. 

Why did you have to meet such a seemingly perfect man today? Why couldn’t this opportunity have fallen into your lap six years ago? 

And fuck you knew you needed to end things. But more than half a decade of your life had been poured into this relationship and you couldn’t find it in your heart to let that go so easily.

Yunho noticed you looking over at him in his periphery, expecting some kind of playful rebuke, but was more than a little worried by your silence. Afraid he'd crossed a line, he was quick to apologize, eyes sincere and tone sober when he chanced a proper glance your way. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I don’ mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No! It’s fine,” You assure him, unconsciously threading your fingers through the ends of your hair, “I just don’t usually get this kind of attention. I know you’re just being playful.”

He nodded, some of his playfulness seeping back into his expression as he cleared his throat, adjusting the brim of his hat as he fixed his attention back onto the road in front of him. “I promise I’m not lyin’ about the ‘pretty’ part, though. I hope you know that.”

You scoff, but you can feel the heat in your cheeks rise, “Thank you…”

Silence enveloped the two of you after that, but he didn't seem to mind. Drumming his fingers on the steering wheel and humming along to the music playing out of the car's stereo. In another life, one where the man waiting for you back at your apartment wasn't hell-bent on driving you insane, you wanted to believe that you could be strong enough to look away. To ignore the butterflies filling your stomach. To ignore the way he made your heart flutter. But you just couldn’t find it in you to look away, but he didn’t seem to catch on.

He thinks it's cute that you think he doesn’t notice. He’s very keen on noticing your every little move. The way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear when he called you pretty and the way you awkwardly fidgeted with your bag when you told him that you didn’t normally receive that kind of attention.

It took every ounce of self-control in his body to keep him from prying. But he couldn’t help the way he started to hate this man that he’d never met even more. What he wouldn’t give to have a partner who was willing to go get his car fixed without asking. Someone who was so dedicated to the relationship that they were willing to sacrifice the little free time they had just to help out.

As he pulled into the parking lot of your apartment complex, he glanced over at you and met your eyes for a second. You quickly whipped your head away, embarrassed that you’d been caught red-handed. He couldn’t stop himself from smiling, smiled, “Here we are.”

“Mhm,” you nodded awkwardly, busying yourself with checking that you had all your things set to go. “Thank you for the ride. It means a lot.”

“Not a problem at all, Doll. Need me to walk you up?” he asked, leaning forward to try and meet your eyes.

You shook your head, “No, I’ll be alright.” You gave him a smile, “So you’ll call me tomorrow?”

He nodded, the tip of his hat dropping slightly, “Yep, I should be done with ‘er around noon.”

“Perfect! Again, thank you so mu–”

You were cut off by the sound of someone pounding on the passenger side window. Both of you turn at the sudden commotion. 

Yunho watched as you hurriedly swung the door open and slid out of the car. And he heard a muffled, “Jun, what the hell!?” after you’d slammed the door of his truck.

Ah, the boyfriend.

“Are you insane? What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled.

Yeonjun glared at you through the wild strands of his crimson hair, “My problem!? Who the fuck is that?”

“Oh, that’s your issue? That I had to have the mechanic drive me home?” You seethed, jabbing a finger into his chest, “This could’ve easily been avoided if you had picked your sorry ass off the couch to drive me home yourself. Like any decent partner would.”

Your not-so-subtle jab seemed to go over his head, his mind too focused on the image of you smiling and blushing in response to a man that wasn’t him. “You really couldn’t have found a woman to drive you home? It just had to be this dick.”

“No, Yeonjun, I couldn’t find a woman to drive me home. You know why? Because it’s a Tuesday afternoon and all of my friends have jobs. Unlike you who can’t even take the time to take a break from whatever the fuck you do all day to give me a ride.”

He gawked at you, clearly offended, “I have a job.”

“Oh my god. This again?” You ran a frustrated hand over your face, “No. You don’t. Practicing with your bandmates twice a week and playing a single gig a month is not a job. You make $100 a month.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I don’t want a nine-to-five? I like my schedule the way it is.”

You could feel angry tears forming at the back of your eyes, stinging as you held them back, “You think I DO!? Yeonjun, I work sixty hours a week trying to keep us afloat. I pay for our food, our rent, our insurance, your fucking car! And I can’t even get you to pick up the damn apartment when I’m gone.” The tears started falling before you even realized it, shocking both of you. It had been a long time since he’d last seen you cry. Because you always chose either anger or an eerily calm response to his childishness. Knowing deep down that he wouldn’t be able to comfort you if you slipped into vulnerability. “I’m fucking tired Jun. This was my first day off in three months, and I spent it trying to get your car fixed. And I can’t even get a ‘thank you’ out of you. I don’t know how much longer I can do this. You aren’t nineteen anymore, and I think it’s time you grow the fuck up.”

He didn’t say anything. The anger in his face replaced by a mix of shock and awkward discomfort, one of a man who was embarrassed to even be in this situation.

You stayed like that for a beat, holding your breath, praying for the moment when he realized everything he’d done wrong. Where he woke up from the immature daze he’d been trapped in since you were teenagers. But you supposed that was all wishful thinking, the tension broken not by either of you, but by a honk from behind him. His bandmate was here to pick him up. 

He couldn’t even look you in the eyes. “We’ll talk about this later,” he mumbled before jogging up to his friend’s car and sliding into the passenger seat. You watched him give his friend one of their ridiculous handshakes, the sound of blaring music and feminine laughter spilling out into the parking lot before the car door slammed shut. The scene was so ironic in the face of everything he'd just yelled at you for that you really couldn't stop the laughter that bubbled up through your tears, bitter as acid on your tongue.

Yunho sat in his truck as he watched your asshole of a boyfriend leave the parking lot. He stayed like that for a while, watching you wipe at your tears and try to compose yourself. When you’d calmed down enough for his conscience to let him leave, he looked down at the passenger seat and noticed you had left your purse behind.

Grabbing the bag, he exited the truck and approached you. Trying his best not to startle you, he cleared his throat. 

Surprised by the sound, you turned around to find Yunho standing there awkwardly, holding out the purse you now realized was missing from your shoulders, “You left your bag.”

“Oh…thank you.” You mumbled, closing the distance and grabbing it from him with a bit more force than you meant to. The mechanic didn’t so much as flinch.

How could he when his heart hurt for you? This woman he could barely even claim to know. He hated the fact that you felt the need to respond defensively, the pain in your eyes, and how you could barely look at him. You shouldn’t feel ashamed of this. It wasn’t your fault. But Yunho knew without you having to say anything that you were incredibly embarrassed. 

“Listen–”

“Oh god. Please don’t”

His shoulders dropped, “I just wanted to–”

You lifted a hand to stop him, “Yunho, please. You’ve been so kind to me, and I really appreciate your help today. But please for the love of god don’t make me dump my relationship problems on you.”

“Hey now,” he said, holding both his hands up in a calming motion as he spoke in a voice so deep and steady in contrast to your own that it caught you by surprise, “I don’t mean to push or pry, Doll, you just look like you could use someone to talk to is all.”

“I just don’t want you to think down on me,” you sighed.

He looked at you sincerely, slipping the hat from his head and placing it on the hood of the truck, “Now, have I given you the impression that that’s somethin’ I would ever do?”

The appreciative smile you gave him almost made him melt. You leaned back against the side of his truck, tilting your head back until it hit the window with a soft thud, “I’m just so tired.”

Yunho slid next to you, awkwardly scuffing his boot into the pavement, “Would it be too rude to say I could tell?”

You chuckled, “I just don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I’ve been trying for years to get him to just put in an ounce of effort, but he won’t budge. But we’ve been together so long I don’t know if I have it in me to end things.”

“You know it’s not your job to teach him how to be an adult, right? He’s a grown-ass man. You shouldn’t have to beg him to help you out.” 

The somber look in your eyes when you looked up at him made Yunho want to pull you in and hug you to his chest, but he respected your boundaries. 

“I know. I just…” you trailed off, no longer finding it in yourself to argue for your relationship.

Yunho took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he wanted to get off his chest, “Look, Doll, I don’ wanna overstep or anything, but I’m gonna be blunt with you.” He paused, giving you room to tell him to stuff it and save it for someone else if you wanted to. But you were looking up at him expectantly, teary eyes nearly pushing his little speech clean out of his skull. He had to clear his throat a little before continuing. “The way that man treats you is just disgusting. For everything you do for him? The least he could do is make sure that your apartment is spotless and you never have to cook again. And I’m not saying it’s me who should give it to you, but you deserve worlds better than that.”

“Yeah…” was all you could get out before you felt a tear fall down your cheek, and you tried to wipe it away before Yunho saw. But of course he noticed.

Tentatively, he placed a hand on your shoulder in comfort, running his thumb along the fabric of your t-shirt. You surprised him, though, when you turned into him and started sobbing into his chest. Your fingers desperately gripping his button down.

“Oh sweetheart,” he whispered, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back. Holding you with so much warmth and sincerity that you felt safer than you had in years. In the arms of a stranger, no less.

general taglist: @swimmingkpopblog @oddracha

ateez taglist: @certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world

ok cowboy: @saintriots @ateezswonderland @fairyofhueningkai

[wanologic]

college au prequel: what happened to danny during junior year - 2940 words

Viscous green liquid sludges through a dry river bed, whetting the cracked ground and seeping deep into the void. Soil softens, becoming fat with nutrient. In the most basic definition, still itself, but filled with new matter, ready and accepting of more. This is what it was made for, its purpose. It has been sitting, dry and untended for too long. In this symbiosis it is more than it dreamed to be. Complete in the sense that it has been starved.

--

Danny wakes up, the dream lingering.

He’s been feeling odd lately, despite the fact that he is more comfortable in his skin than ever. He has a goal, he has support. 

A bridge, he called himself.

Even if he’s only sixteen and his influence is contextually small, he has time. People are listening. Ghosts are listening. Small steps over a long period will get you where you need to go, and he’s still just a kid. 

A kid who has to get ready for school.

He goes through the familiar motions, snags a quick breakfast and lets his parents know he’s headed out, that he’ll see them later. He’s out the door and on his way before he knows it.

Danny’s grades have improved since his freshman year. The pressure to keep things secret has all but alleviated and his family is sticking close. The world might not know that Fenton and Phantom are the same, but the people who matter do.

He’s managing. Thriving, even.

His extracurriculars are atypical of a high school junior, but he plays his role well. The Ghost Investigation Ward meets Phantom and the Fentons on neutral ground that evening, working their way methodically through a tangle of red tape. Teaching, learning. There’s always danger in compromise, but both parties are being two faced. It’s civil for now.

He’ll do this from the opposite angle on another day, playing border guard for the dimensional tear nestled into the fabric of his basement. Walker would be proud of him. He’s enforcing the Rules.

And it’s all going well as far as he can tell. Things are so much less chaotic than they were, his brawls feel like bonding, his head is no longer on a swivel.

For now, it’s off to his room. A space for himself to decompress after a long day's work.

He spends a lot of time thinking about a prehistoric past. What the future might look like once his job is over. This solid physical reality fed that swirling and infinite realm of emotion directly, once. It didn’t last, but time has passed. 

Danny is more aware of this fractured nature than most. He’s sure it’s why he’s had so much success. Why the responsibility falls on him. He feels it every time he calls upon his second self. 

And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Human first, ghost second. Humanity is the frame of reference he was born with. Everything new he experiences in this strange half-life is compared against it. Spectra once asked him what he was. But humanity is in his nature. He is a creepy boy with creepy powers. He’s sure of it. 

Going ghost.

Returning to humanity.

Not that he prefers one over the other. He’s made the choice. More than once. When his memories were erased or his powers short-circuited he always took them back. Felt the thrumming and euphoric energy pulsing through his being once again. His shape projected and unreal. Weightless. It feels incredible.

At some point, some late night discussion about feelings, whether it was with family or with friends, he realized his dual nature was more of a privilege than he could ever hope to fully comprehend. His human half feeds his ghost half everything. His ghost half is complete. No wonder he’s so determined, so strong. He has never once craved emotion the way the others have. He has intrinsic access to everything. Every failed test, every frustration, every joy, every thrill. He is comfortable and whole. Has no need to lash out. Two separate identities working together as two polar magnets, inseparable through the strength of their attraction, moving through the world as one.

He slips the familiar glowing rings across his body, the cool wash of ectoplasm coursing through his veins. Back again, blood pumps oxygen to his cells. Human. Ghost. Human. Ghost.

--

This time the dream is stranger.

The river craves the ocean. 

Danny feels the sand cake beneath his nails as he digs a trench, a violation of the river’s established bed. There’s a trickle as a thin and frothy stream flows out of sync with the current along the path he lays. It longs for the larger disconnected body ahead. A curious tendril seeking an easier path. He digs deeper, automatic, compelled by a force he doesn’t quite understand. 

Is this a bridge too?

He’s both excited and afraid to find out.

The liquid pools at his fingertips as fast as he can dig. Nudging. The sand is saturated and wet in front of him. He’s not sure how much further he has to go. But if he can claw his way through this dense barrier he’s sure it will pick up momentum even without him. The fluid mass can carve its own trench. Wider. Faster. Wider again.

He wakes up in a cold sweat. He somehow feels incorporeal. This isn’t right. He looks at his hands. His fingers in the dark. Clean. Spotless. He feels the sheets beneath his body, the press of the blanket above. So he’s still human then, wrong as it may seem. He clutches at his chest as he tries to calm his racing heart, quell the strength of an intense emotion that he cannot describe. It’s exhilarating. It’s terrifying.

He stops digging and fashions a dam, not yet ready for what the final connection could mean.

His head hurts.

Nausea tucks itself against his gut.

He takes a shower.

--

It’s Saturday and he has business in the Ghost Zone.

He shifts, expecting the weird feeling to subside. Instead it’s more of the same. Something is off. He ignores it. A thing to worry about later when he has less to do.

His work that day goes smoothly, another step in what he can only hope is the right direction. And it feels nice, giving in to the compulsion and focusing on what is in front of him, what is currently begging his attention, rather than the problems lurking beneath the surface. It is a learned behavior, one he falls back into easily.

Upon his return he feels like he is dragging a piece of the Infinite Realms back with him. The air seems to thicken, the cold steel walls of the portal are closing in on him. The exit is a pinpoint.  He’s being called back. He wants to move forward. He can feel silky fingers worm their way over his skin, hundreds of tendrils trying to pull him into their embrace. He stays strong. Moves with intent. The invisible hands can’t find enough purchase and he is finally welcomed back into the Physical World like the denizen he is. 

The caress stays with him much longer than he’s willing to admit.

--

Weeks go by and he only feels stranger and stranger. High. His attention slides off of everything so easily, his eyes blurring mid-conversation, a stuffy feeling, like a balloon that’s expanding well past the boundaries of his head. He loses time. Cancels appointments. He doesn’t feel well, sorry, he’s going to stay home today.

There is something Danny knows he needs to do. He can’t keep existing in limbo like this, his job only half-finished, pulled in two directions but choosing neither. His powers will wane once again in his indecision. His purpose sits unfulfilled.

He lays back and stares at the softly luminescent stars pasted to the ceiling of his room. Takes deep and even breaths as he struggles to remain present. His sister is worried for him, he’s sure. The best he can do for her is secretly practice what she has preached.

Danny eventually thinks back to that trickling stream. The slimy offshoot of the coursing river. He thinks of the dam he dreamed up all those weeks ago, sure it’s bigger now. His denial adds weight and height to the metaphor. Every day it feels less like a figment of his fucked up imagination and more like the worlds are trying to tell him something. What’s on the other side now, he wonders? Is the river still flowing? Are the fruits of his labor still there or has that little hand-clawed pathway dried up? How large is the reservoir pressing up against that sandy hill if it hasn’t?

He’s scared. 

He doesn’t want to know. 

But this isn’t what he promised himself.

A peek can’t hurt.

--

The dream comes easily, now that he lets it.

The funny thing about water is that it always finds a way. No matter what people do, how they try to tame it, erosion is inevitable. It starts as a dark wet splotch, the faint idea of a tiny breach in the all-but-permeable barrier between worlds—the river and the ocean. As the spot expands a dip forms on the horizon. The water moves. Under, through, over. Destructive. Alive. Danny shouldn’t have looked but he can’t stop what has already started. Equilibrium will be achieved one way or another. It was only ever a matter of time. He stands in the shallows, cowed as the wall comes down. Slowly first, then all at once.

The edges of panic are sharp and he realizes what is happening only a beat too late. 

The dam breaks.

He screams.

He was the dam, he is the trench, the rapid connection of energy flowing out of bounds and rushing along a new path. Lightning striking the rod to avoid burning down the house. The portal below him is a wound, a tear. He is something asked for, something natural. His mind can’t keep up as he struggles to regain ground and prevent being swept away by the violent current.

Dim awareness of his physical body comes back to him slowly as he writhes against the foreign dimension assaulting his senses. A second death. His double life was a conceptual marvel, a switch flipping from on to off, and back on again. He is the embodiment of two worlds, split, distinct. His quest to join them together requires this of him, doesn’t it? Whatever autonomy he has against the will of the universe cannot remain if he truly wants to serve his purpose. It’s a choice he has to make. One that he has been making. One that has been made.

He takes a deep and shuddering breath.

He tries to let go, and finds that he can’t. It’s like being electrocuted all over again, his nerves fried and his joints stuck rigid. It’s a feeling that is impossible to control, tense as he is.

His breath still comes ragged as colors around him saturate and the world warps. He can feel his fear, his desperation, feeding the momentum of whatever is happening. The exchange of emotion, osmosis through a rapidly deteriorating membrane. Thousands of overlapping inputs assault his mind as he feels the energy sliding around in the folds of his brain. He breathes through it. It’s not at all painful, but it is intense. His human points of reference aren’t working to help him conceptualize what is happening. His atoms are buzzing with newfound energy and the world is no longer solid. He tries once again to attempt the mindfulness ritual Jazz has been shoving down his throat, tries to name five things around him. The exercise fails him as he feels his brain liquefy in his skull. He gasps at the sloshing sensation, back arching. He’s going to be unmade.

Instead of loosening his grip, he tightens it. Remembering what it is to be human with all the force he can muster. His knuckles are white. Sweat slips down his brow. If he can’t let go, he has to hold on. He is gasping, thrashing. He’s hyperventilating, he’s sure, but no oxygen floods his system. He wants release, wants off this ride. The world outside of his perception ceases to exist. Flesh slips from his bones and it feels so, so good.

Then he sees it.

His eyes are blind, but he perceives it, somehow. The yawning void of the infinite realms is so much bigger, so much hungrier than he had ever thought. Reading that tablet, all that time ago, he thought his purpose was something simple. Easy in a way that a fourteen year old imagination could rationalize. The earth and the zone were two physical spaces that only needed to understand each other and hold hands to achieve that elusive harmony. 

He’d been wrong.

It’s not the earth that feeds the realms. Dimensions aren’t something that can be explained by an elementary understanding of mass and matter. They aren’t some static three dimensional points in time and space. They are universes of their own, expanding, interstitched in a nasty and sticky web of inexplicable physics folding over and back on themselves, forever too complicated to pry apart.

The realms are fed by the conscious universe perceiving itself, the soul, the spirit, whatever you want to call it. Emotions aren’t some grid of faces on a paper, they are infinite, they are cause and effect, the chicken and the egg, projecting forever in a möbius loop human understanding can never truly describe.

He’s going to go insane, he concludes. Here on his bed, on some random weekday, alone in his room. The magnetic pull of his two halves are phasing into each other, becoming imperceivable as the two separate forms he once knew. He’s not even sure that he really exists at this point. 

There is another choice to make.

He thinks back to what he knows about this buried history, Pariah Dark, The Ancients, wonders if they considered this connection, what they knew about how this should happen. Is there a way to do this that is objectively correct? If he knew more would it be easier? Or would it go down just the same? He has no desire to conquer. Only to be a bridge. A tether. An example. To show that this merging from two to one can be peaceful, a shift in perception rather than a violent overhaul. It is unavoidable now. His only wish is to remain recognizable as himself. 

He focuses not on his mind but on his body. He has to rebuild from the ground up or risk losing himself forever. Start small, a beating heart. Vascular systems. Skeletal. Muscular. Take a breath and pump blood into the empty cavern of his skull. Human is what he knows, though he’s never had to think about it quite this way before. His nerves lace through the structures he’s struggling to create, half intuition, half memory. It feels like being a ghost, all projection and thought, a deep and innate understanding. He knows this. He’s existed this way every moment of his short life and he can do it again. He’s alive, his blood is red, his flesh is tangible.

His brain slams back into his body and he promptly throws up.

--

The worlds are connected once again.

Danny’s hands shake as he tries to get a grip on himself. He’s been changed. He can feel it. The Infinite Realms has marked him as he has marked it. The world is flowing through and from him. Energy hums under his skin, and in it there is access to a well so deep he’s not sure it could ever run dry. 

He finally gets it. This is what being a bridge between worlds means for him.

He gets off his bed slowly. Half floating, half stumbling for balance. His instincts are scattered and his breath no longer sits in his body the same.

This change gives him the authority and the power, the perception and understanding to mend the bleeding fracture between dimensions. He will be listened to. He cannot be hurt. His appearance no longer matters, he is what he is, wholly and entirely. He exists as a linchpin. He is the keystone in the arch where one side is living and the other is dead.

Gravity feels so odd. Like someone changed the coefficient.

He sobs and grabs his dresser for support, woozy and unbalanced, a newborn deer walking on unfamiliar legs. He intends to make his way downstairs. Wants to fall into the embrace of his parents. Needs someone to hold him and tell him that everything will still be okay. He looks to the door.

And without moving, he is there.

Breath comes hard and fast as he steadies himself. His perception catching up to the new perspective. His hand is on the handle, he radiates a trail of semi-physical matter with every motion. It will take practice to appear normal again. He’s reminded of his freshman year.

When he finally opens the door, a swirling green wall is all that meets him. He stares at it, the cold vapor of the Realms slipping around and through him.

He knows the observants exist on the other side. He is sure of it as he is sure of anything. They are there to acknowledge the crown above his head. To observe what he has finally made of himself. 

He will tell him that he didn’t want this, didn’t ask for it.

They will tell him that he is lying.

He steps through the threshold.

[eclipseberrycake]

Poly! MoonBerryCake x Reader

I took some inspiration from @huneybeen who wrote this first so please please dont hate me but I've been thinking about them for the past 3 days and I needed to word vomit.

...K thanks bye.

Divider Credit: @sister-lucifer

☁ The dynamic of this alone is something I'd like to touch on especially because it's so fun to me.

☁ I imagine if anything the reader would be a common toon, so that changed things. You have two mains, Astro and Sprout, and two commons, yourself and Cosmo.

☁ You and Cosmo probably meet first because of that. You get close because of similar interests and stay close during runs.

☁ To add an extra layer to this, imagine Distactor! Reader too? Licking my fingers at this.

☁ Cosmo thought he had just gotten a new friend! He loves giving them treats and using them as a taste tester and even taking naps together wherever possible! It's great!

☁ Until...it's not? Why are you taking off? Why do the trinkets hooked onto your belt look suspiciously like the ones Goob and Tisha are known to use? Why are you actively getting the Twisteds attention?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?

☁ The first time he sees you distract is a little stressful for poor Cosmo. The second you're back in the elevator and it clinks shut, he is whirling on you and demanding an explanation.

☁ He's so exasperated that he's left speechless when you simply smile up at him, still high off adrenaline, while talking a mile a minute about how much fun that was.

☁....Are you insane?

☁ That being said, after the fact, Cosmo is literally your personal healer. He is constantly fighting Toodles the other toons for heals, not for himself, not really, but so he's never left with nothing to give you.

☁ That's probably when he realizes he has an initial crush on you. He's mid-way through using a med-kit on you, on a floor high enough he can see the running starting to effect you. You're sluggish and fatigued and can't chug pop fast enough. It makes his chest ache at the sight before he's swallowing his nerves and wrapping his arms around you.

☁ "You're doing great. Thank you for the work you do."

☁ Feeling you melt against him made every grueling floor worth it in that moment. The draining yank of his own health leaving him to go to you through every new treat was far beyond repaid. He would do it a million times over for you if only for a smidge chance at this moment again.

☁ The run was finished soon after that, and you were quick to express your thanks towards him after that. Safe to say, if you thought he was clingy before, that was nothing. It's like he literally took an invisible chain and connected it between you two and you just haven't found it yet.

☁ He's always there with a smile and a treat and a snuggle if time and twisteds permit.

☁ Now, some world building for ya. I imagine that the OG Twisteds of the mains you see, are the real mains until that research is completed. Then Dandy lets you purchase an...un-twist antidote or something and that's when they come back. It's fun to me >:(.

☁ Following this, most people are gonna assume Sprout comes first.

☁ WRONG. I got Astro first so guess whose coming back. Astro.

☁ When Astro comes back, he's evidently shaken by the whole ordeal. The mains probably didn't know the commons overly well unless they were explicitly paired together. Like Sprout and Cosmo in that one animation, or Glisten and Vee, etc. Astro isn't seen with any commons, as far as I know, so he's probably a little lost and feels like an outsider.

☁ While he's recovering he's banned from any runs. Point blank period. However, that means he's alone while the commons are all out scavenging for research.

☁ Guess who comes in? Guess :)

☁ It's you!

☁ Unlike Cosmo, there are other distracting toons. Tisha and Goob both are more than happy to take some shifts while you stay back to recover yourself. Unfortunately, there's only one Cosmo, so he's left going on the runs as a healer and leaving you behind. You always see him off though, giving him pecks on the cheek before he's stepping into the elevator.

☁ You take the time to wander through Gardenview, eyeing each room as you pass before blinking at the infirmary. The new toon was in there.

☁ Astro half expected you to just continue on, regardless of if he was there or not. He was fine on his own, even if it wasn't his favorite. It reminded him too much of when he was... Of before.

☁ But you poked the top of your head in the doorway, your eyes being the only part of you visible. He blinked at the action, making eye contact. Your head tilted at the action and his own mirrored it. It made you giggle as you disappeared back around the door.

☁ Despite it, Astro found himself smiling at the action. what an odd toon you were.

☁ He never heard your footsteps disappear however, stunning himself when you popped your eyes back in, gleaming with mischief. The rest of you stepped in right after, pressing a finger to your lips with a humorous little wink. "Wanna sneak into the kitchen and steal some cookies?"

☁ Needless to say, he found himself in the kitchen, sitting beside you with a cookie jar shaped like a suspicious, rainbow petal'd plant sat between you munching on cookies that looked a little too familiar for comfort.

☁ You filled the silence whenever something popped into your brain, talking about things you felt he should know for whatever reason. He now knew all about Rodger and Glisten and Teagan's tension, which he wouldn't have guessed, and all about Gigi's...problem with misplaced objects. He even knew about your own rumors that laid hushed in the walls, spoken like they were about someone else.

☁ "Yeah! People keep saying Cosmo and I are a thing but he's never asked so until then, that's a no."

☁ He hummed at the time, even if some part of him felt a bit relieved at the information.

☁ By the time he was cleared to go on runs, you were bouncing up and down by his side excitedly, trinkets clinking from where you had hooked them onto your waist, with Cosmo excitedly grinning behind you.

☁ He liked seeing you two like that.

☁ Now. Sprout. Mr. Seedly.

☁ He's last to join. Astro helps with this tremendously. When you're downed from a surprise Shrimpo attack, clutching your arm as Ichor pooled over, Cosmo is quick to try and jump in to help, only for a twisted clone of himself to turn and lock in onto him.

☁ As much as I love to proclaim "Distractor! Cosmo!" he's not actually a distractor. So, he has to run to lose the twisteds quickly before getting bit himself. This is where Astro comes in. Not only does he quickly re-energize both you and Cosmo, he is able to give you a momentary heal, letting you run off, air horn blazing, while hiding in the back to turn his attention to Cosmo.

☁ Whatever pieces you or Cosmo may lose, Astro picks up. Yet, not all of them seem to click into place just yet.

☁ When the elevator stills and you all hear the telltale steps, Astro is quick to grab your shoulders and spit all sorts of warnings. "Watch the tentacles. You'll know where they're going to appear. Don't try to test them. It's not worth it." "He's slow but don't take that for advantage. He will find a way to keep up." "Ignore every other twisted. We can handle them."

☁ Blinking, he watched you slowly nod before blinking and giving a much more firm acknowledgement. "Understood."

☁ When the elevators opened, Astro watched as you quickly got Sprout's attention, darting around a budding pile of ichor before sharply turning the other way. The reason why quickly became apparent when a twisted Teagan turned the corner, which Goob quickly took away.

☁ Nodding to himself, Astro found himself turning to face Cosmo, who looked terrified at the what just happened. Did he look that way when Astro was...That way with him? He hoped not.

☁ Frowning, he gripped his blanket tighter before letting out a breath, extending one of his hands through the opening towards Cosmo. The other looked at it with wide eyes before his eyes upturned to look at Astro's. "I'll stay with you the entire time."

☁ They had to follow you after all.

☁ They stayed a good distance away from where you and Goob were distracting (which was rather entertaining to watch actually), grabbing capsules wherever possible and tossing healing treats to you both as you passed.

☁ It was a rather seamless process actually up until the elevator timer began, sending the other toons of the squad running. Cosmo, who had been waiting for Astro to finish the last machine, seemed to halt before Astro was urging him forward, steeling himself to stay behind. "They'll run out of stamina before getting to the elevator. We'll be fine!"

☁ Albeit hesitantly, Cosmo did turn and run, finding safety next to Rodger while Astro stayed a ways away outside. Goob was quick to return, free of twisteds, but looking no less stressed. "They were far! Sprout cut off their exit!" Goob quickly explained, twiddling his fingers in front of him.

☁ Astro nodded before instructing him to stand in the elevator as well just in case.

☁ As the seconds ticked down, Astro was seconds away from stepping just far enough to remain out of Goob's range just in case when you came skidding around a corner. He could tell you were running on low as you kept looking back, narrowly avoiding Sprout's clawed grasp. Waiting until you were close enough, he let his power thrum along the ground, watching as you immediately perked up.

☁ Goob took this as a signal, or maybe you gave him one, as you quickly moved to push Astro forward, right into the awaiting arms as you continued towards the elevator. Just as the elevator began to close, you dove, making it just under the steel metal as it slammed shut behind you.

☁ You were panting as you laid on the ground, the entire elevator silent save for your heavy breaths and the sound of Dandy preparing for his arrival.

☁ Cosmo was quick to jump onto you, hurling threats of no more heals if you ever tried anything like that ever again. You took it with grace, gently resting a hand on his head as he cried into your shoulder. Your eyes angled back, catching his and extending your free hand. "You can't fool me. I know that scared you too."

☁ If Astro moved forward to take your hand, sitting close enough to you his knees brushed your shoulders.

☁ You had gotten what you needed though, evident with the glower Dandy shot at you, hidden behind a plastic smile.

☁ Getting Sprout back was harder than getting Astro back, admittedly. You had explained that when getting a main back, you kept most of the toons behind simply for everyone's sake. Distractors, Cosmo and fast extractors was where you drew the line.

☁ Which Astro understood. But didn't like. However, that being said, his power made him a valuable asset, which he used to argue his point. When you acquiesced, he nearly cheered, triumphantly trekking into the elevator with Cosmo by his side.

☁ To say this was like the previous runs, but on some sort of crack would be an understatement. It was fast. It was grueling. It was a thing of constant motion with machines constantly being done and the elevator a repeating pattern of opening and closing.

☁ There were no jokes like usual. There was no chatting. There was a new tension among the people in the elevator, simply waiting for the countdown before starting it all over again.

☁ Cosmo ensured he stuck beside Astro the entire time, remaining a rock the entire time while you were busy. They kept close enough they could rush to you should the need arise, and have a few times, but stayed within hands reach of each other.

☁ By the time they reached floor 24, with all of you tired and injured to some extent, the sound of his steps were both a welcome reprieve and a dreaded expectation.

☁ You were the one trusted with the serum, clutching it tightly as you glared at the elevator before you were turning to look at Cosmo and Astro over your shoulder. "Stay safe, please. Don't wait for me."

☁ It was a harrowing ask, but not one they could linger on as the elevator opened and you took off.

☁ But then the lights went out.

☁ And then they heard Sprout let out a shrill roar signaling he spotted you.

☁ Then they heard the snarling of Pebble signaling he too also spotted you.

☁ That was all they needed before the group of them dispersed, eager to complete the machines as quick as possible before you paid the price for their lack of action.

☁ One by one each ticked off before the elevator was reopening and they all rushed back to the elevator. Goob, Cosmo and Astro stood right up at the lip of the elevator, eyes darting for you. You appeared much quicker, both Pebble and Sprout on your heels as you did.

☁ You dropped a quick smoke bomb, loosing both of their attentions as you quickly rounded around a counter. Pebble let out a snarl as he ran off in the other direction. He didn't get far before hearing you move and it was like a movie.

☁ You moved, launching at Sprout with the Serum poised and ready while Pebble snarled, rushing to catch you. You managed to catch Sprout, digging the spout of the needle into his neck before being chucked off, making you scramble as you quickly darted back around the counter. Astro let his power thrum as Goob snapped his arms out, Cosmo catching you as you ran into the elevator while Goob's arms snapped back. The elevator snapped shut as Glisten moved to end the run and send the elevator back up, both you and Cosmo moving to where Goob cradled an ichor riddle body.

☁ You quickly let Cosmo do what he needed too, diverging to wrap your arms around Astro, who's eyes were locked onto Sprout.

☁ He spent the night with you and Cosmo, both of which he dragged out of your rooms to sleep in his that night.

☁ Sprout's recovery is quicker than Astro's, as he's a toon made for healing. He's up and bitching before any of you can stop him.

☁ Cosmo is his first stop, duh, they're canonically very close, with Astro a close second as he would know the other main. But you? Sprout's got no idea who you are.

☁ So he's a little stand-offish. He sees you interacting with Cosmo and sees you with Astro, and both seem to thoroughly enjoy your company, but he also saw you when he was a twisted.

☁ You were a dumbass if he had anything to say about it.

☁ You'd see someone way down a hallway and risk running into a wall to avoid them getting maybe even possibly spotted. He'd seen you eat enough chocolate bars to make him sake just to stay just in front of Pebble. He'd seen you slip on a stray jumper cable only to get right back up and do the same thing when you rounded around.

☁ He wasn't sure he wanted that rubbing off on him.

☁ But you stuck around. When Cosmo wanted to bake, you were the first to get a bit of the final product. When Astro wanted a nap, you were right there with a blanket, acting as a pillow while you napped with him.

☁ Even on runs, you were quick to come to his aid, taking back the twisteds once he'd gotten his aggro-tapes. All with a stupid smile.

☁ He kind of hated that smile.

☁ Man this is getting LONGGG

☁ Anyway, how would you and Sprout bond? Uh, the common denominators silly!

☁ You were injured on a previous run, bad enough to warrant bed rest decrees from both Cosmo AND Astro. Lucky you!

☁ Sprout had only been cleared for basic runs and this was another possible retrieval run, which you heavily protested against with not only you injured but your second healer still on probation.

☁ Still, they went on with it. You and Sprout were left in the infirmary, awkward silence settling between you. Neither of you knew what to say from there. Your buffers were gone.

☁ With a huff, you sat up, running a hand down your face before turning to face Sprout. Who was watching you.

☁ He watched you like a hawk, watching as you swung your feet off the bed and slowly stood like a shaky new born fawn. "Cosmo's not gonna like that."

☁ You snorted at him, falling back onto the bed only to try again. Sprout's eyes narrowed as he scoffed. "Astro's not gonna like it either."

☁ You snorted again, finally finding your standing before turning to look at him, narrowing your eyes at him. "Are you coming with me to get cookies or not?"

☁ ...well, he can't say he didn't warn you. He did follow you to go get treats, acting as a crutch along the way simply for the reason he didn't want to wait for you to hobble along.

☁ That was the only reason.

☁ By the time you both got to the kitchen, munching on treats, you had picked up a fun back and forth with each other, trading quips as you dug into the cookie jar once more. You pulled out the last cookie, offering it to him.

☁ He looked at it before shaking his head, only for you to roll your eyes and split it in two. He took it with a grumble, scoffing. "I made them I can make more."

☁ "Gonna make them with Astro's face again?" You shot back with a grin, nibbling onto your own half.

☁ He gave an affronted gasp before the ding of the elevator was making you both look over, Sprout giving you a hand to welcome back the group. They hadn't been gone very long, so it either went very well or not well at all.

☁ It turned out be neither. The run had been called as they were unable to fall into a rhythm and Scraps and Brightney had gotten into quite the altercation.

☁ Both you and Sprout find yourselves looked for Cosmo and Astro, only to find them chatting near the entrance, completely fine. There's a moment between you and hi m, where you both side eye each other before you're reaching out and shoving him. Without trinkets you two are practically the same speed, only he has you outmatched with stamina.

☁ Which was his only hope as he stumbled, not expecting the dirty play, watching you take off towards them. He quickly caught up trying to shove you only for you to dodge him with a laugh.

☁ He knew he should've distracted more. He had gotten complacent with Pebble and was now paying the price for it. He should've known you were a dirty filthy cheater. He should've guessed.

☁ In a last ditch effort he launched himself at you, making you squawk as you both rolled forward, giving both Cosmo and Astro little time before the two of you collided into them sending the four of you into a heap of undignified limbs and cackles.

☁ I spent that entire time just developing that omfg and its already long. sobbing.

☁ Anyway how y'all get together is gonna be TBD bc my head is hurty and my tummy is empty. ~<3

[fear-is-truth]

ALL PART OF HIS PLAN

kai anderson x f! reader￨nsfw. mdni￨wc: 2.4 k

w a r n i n g s – mdni !! porn with plot. oral sex (m receiving). unprotected p in v. dacryphilia. breeding kink (if you squint). english is not my first language. not proofread as usual

summary — mornings spent with kai weren’t always as mundane as it might seem

a/n – this took forever to complete cos every time i open this draft, i spend a good five minutes laughing at the cursed gif and the writing mood is completely ruined.

requested by: @ellaaaaa44

ೃ࿐ .

You woke up when the birds started chirping outside, just as the soft light of dawn filtered through the bedroom windows. Kai was still asleep next to you, his electric blue hair spilling across the white pillow like a halo. You were facing each other, his arm thrown over your waist. Carefully, you inched from under his arm and sat up, feeling the remnants of sleep clinging to your eyes. In the morning stillness, he almost looked innocent, pure, even. But you knew better— Kai Anderson was anything but pure.

Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, its red numbers glowing 06:57. It was Saturday, which meant Kai had a political rally scheduled at 10. As his girlfriend, you were expected to accompany him, not just as a supportive partner, but also to adorn his arm and enhance his appeal to the masses.

But Kai was smart. He had made sure the public knew more about you than just your looks. He had purposely made it known that you were well-educated, and a feminist, no less.

At first, you were skeptical about the whole idea, doubting that the media would find interest in speculating about the personal life of a politician. But, as always, Kai proved you wrong—which irked you to no end. The shallow nature of society never failed to disappoint.

The public adored the two of you, seeing you as an ambitious and attractive power couple, and the media lapped it up like hungry dogs. They also conveniently turned a blind eye to some of the more “controversial” political views of Councilman Anderson, choosing instead to focus on the carefully choreographed public displays of affection meant for the cameras—holding hands, stolen chaste kisses that you pretended to think no one was looking. Tabloid rumors ran rampant about your alleged engagement and the potential of a baby on the way, both of which were far from true, thank the fuck Christ.

That, and a couple of satanic killings that involved clowns, Kai had made significant progress in garnering supporters in a remarkably short period of time.

All part of his plan.

You had to admit, despite the circumstances, you and Kai did make quite a nice couple. There was no denying that the sex was mind-blowing and he had world-class cock that had never failed to make you come undone.

Kai was a pretty considerate lover as well, after you admitted your fear of pregnancy during “pinky power”, surprisingly, he didn’t even get mad or punish you, as expected. He told you that he respected your feelings and prioritized your health above his own preferences. Even though he openly expressed his disdain for wearing condoms, Kai stayed true to his word and wore one every time you asked him to, sparing you the stress.

But Kai had made you a promise that once he secured his position in the Senate, he would put a ring on your finger and you’d be the mother of his “messiah baby”. He made it sound like an honor, and you supposed that, in a twisted, fucked-up way, it was— you’d say yes, because it’s always yes for Kai. Even so, as much as you loved him (was it love? Or something stemming from Stockholm Syndrome, you weren’t entirely sure), the idea of bringing a child into the world still scared you shitless.

But again, you didn’t feel you had a say or a choice in the matter. Kai had rescued you from your lowest points, and for that, you were indebted to him for life.

Enough of that. That was phase two of the plan. Focus on the present.

Big day ahead, don’t fuck this up. All you have to do right now is pretty yourself up and smile, smile, smile for the cameras.

With a sigh, you slipped out of the warmth of the covers, careful not to disturb him. You tiptoed across the carpeted floor and into the en suite, closing the door gently behind you.

Yawning, you began to strip off your sleep clothes—starting with a comfortable T-shirt and booty shorts, followed by your bra and panties—tossing them haphazardly into the laundry basket. Then you stepped into the shower, the sound of rushing water filling your ears as you twisted the knob. You closed your eyes and tilted your face upward, feeling the cool spray hit your skin.

You didn't hear the sound of the bathroom door opening, nor the shuffle of clothes hitting the floor. Suddenly, the sliding glass door slid open, and your eyes snapped open in surprise, a yelp escaping your lips.

Kai stood there, undressed. His hair was a tousled mess. He blinked, his gaze sweeping over your naked form with an unimpressed expression.

He even had the audacity to look a bit offended and disgruntled, as if he wasn't the one barging in on your shower.

“Move over,” he grunted, his voice husky with sleep but his tone left no room for argument. You quickly shuffled to the side, making room for him under the spray.

Kai reached past you and turned the water knob to blast hot water, steam billowing around you as the temperature rose. His hair was slicked back by the water, the vibrant blue adding a splash of colour to the monochrome backdrop of black tiles. Head tilted back, his eyes were closed in blissful rapture as warm droplets of shower spray hit his face.

Your gaze wandered from his features to over his torso, taking in the sight in awe.

Kai looked beautiful. godly, even.

Starting from the clavicle of his neck, glistening rivulets of water meandered down, following the chiseled lines of his biceps and the breadth of his toned chest. Continuing their descent, they danced across his abs, taut and sculpted, rippling waves of raw, masculine strength that seemed to beckon you closer; drawing your eyes inexorably downward until they finally converged at the V-line of his lower abdomen.

Without as much as a glance in your direction, Kai reached for the bottle of 3-in-1 men’s shampoo sitting on the wall shelf.

“Like what you see?”

he poured some shampoo onto his palm. His tone was casual but you could sense the smugness. Heat flooded your cheeks, and it had nothing to do with the steam from the shower. Biting your bottom lip, you nodded bashfully.

“Mhm,” he hummed, fingers raking through his damp, blue locks as he pretended to consider.

“Work for it then. Get on your knees,”

You immediately sank to your knees, wrapping your fingers around the base of his shaft before pressing a kiss on the tip. He raised an eyebrow.

“What was that for?”

“Nothing,”

You smiled sweetly up at him before taking the tip between your lips, collecting the precum and swallowing it with a cheerful hum. Starting with kitten licks, you slowly dragged your tongue up the veiny underside of his cock.

“Fuck…” he hissed through his teeth,

“Attagirl– You’re so good at this…”

The heartfelt praise had a greater effect on you than his usual dirty talk ever could, encouraging you to hollow your cheeks with extra gusto, making sure to give a swirl of your tongue every time you reached the tip.

The groan that came from him seemed to validate his approval. Reaching down, Kai threaded his fingers through your hair into a makeshift ponytail to dictate your motion, bucking his hips into your mouth. Even as your eyes watered, you didn’t pull away as he continued to fuck your mouth. Instead, you peered up at him through your eyelashes and occasionally moaned so that he could know how much you appreciated pleasing him.

It wasn’t long until Kai gave your hair a small tug, and slid out with a small pop. He wasted no time snatching you by the underarms and pulling you to your feet.

His eyes raked over your body as if he was seeing you for the first time. One large, calloused hand trailed from your cheek, down to your neck, then to your arm and waist.

Bending down slightly, his hands continued to trace the smooth skin of your thighs, gently securing behind the bend of your knees. Before you could fully register what was happening, Kai was lifting you up effortlessly from the ground as if you weighed nothing at all. You squealed in surprise as he hoisted you up, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for support.

You gazed into his dark eyes to find that the sleep-induced glaze from earlier was now replaced by intense focus and determination. He meant business.

“Stay still, I wanna try something,”

Holding firmly onto your waist, Kai settled you against his hipbones, pausing for a moment to let you wrap your legs eagerly around his waist.

With the shower water cascading above you, it reminded you of the iconic kiss-in-the-rain scene from “The Notebook,” which you had watched together in bed just last week. Well, technically, you were the only one watching; Kai had been either scrolling through his phone or looking irritated the entire time.

Maybe this was just pure coincidence and wishful thinking on your part, or could it possibly be that he was trying to recreate that moment– impossible… right?

The subtle smirk curling his lips and the slight crease of his eyes confirmed your suspicions. So he had listened to your rambles on how hot Ryan Gosling looked. “Kiss me, please,” you begged, and he graciously obliged, claiming your lips in a hungry, open-mouthed kiss. You moaned and tangled your fingers into his hair when you felt his tongue slip past your teeth.

Pressing your back against the tiled wall, he positioned himself at your entrance, so that the tip of his cock was spreading your lips open. Then he pulled back from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you both.

Maintaining eye contact, he sank his cock into your awaiting warmth. Your eyes widened and a little “ooh-” tumbled out of your mouth at the sensation of him filling and stretching you.

A small voice in the back of your head warned of the potential consequences—a slip, a fall, and the possibility of ending up in the hospital with a concussion or a bruised tailbone. However, any lingering inhibitions melted away in a heartbeat as Kai angled his thrusts in just the right way, hitting just the right spot that made you see stars.

“Whoa, this angle is– fucking amazing…”

Kai muttered between grunts as he continued to slam into you, rocking your entire body with each of his thrusts. It didn’t take long before the tightened coil inside you snapped completely; your pussy giving one final squeeze before you screamed out your release.

“Nuh-uh, princess. I’m not done with you yet,”

He spun you around, forcing you against the shower wall. You yelped in surprise and instinctively flattened your palms to steady yourself. Gripping your hips firmly to keep you in place, Kai sheathed himself inside you in one swift, brutal stroke.

“Ack- Kai!” you squealed as your cheek was pressed against the wall with a wet smack, feeling your breasts flatten against the cool surface. Your fingernails scrabbled against the slippery tiles, desperately searching for purchase as Kai reared back his hips. You let out a loud wail when he thrust back into you, setting a harsh, punishing pace. His pelvis slamming into your ass with such force that the supple flesh rippled with each thrust.

“Ah f-fuck… mghmm—” your vision was blurry with tears as he bottomed out once again, pressing himself so deep that you could feel every ridge and vein, every delicious throb and twitch—his eagerness to pump you full of his come but also to make you suffer just a little bit for his pleasure.

“Hah- you just love it when I fuck you into my perfect little brain-dead slut, don’t you?”

He grunted, his thrusts becoming progressively sloppier but somehow still maintaining the same pace. Whining pathetically, you wiggled your hips, allowing your cunt to swallow his cock deeper. Lewd schlick shlick noises ricocheted off the walls, dulled by the sound of your moans and pattering water.

“Look at me, little lamb,”

You peered over your shoulder, shiny, fat drops of tears decorating your eyelashes. He smiled fondly at you before pressing a tender kiss on your temple.

“You look so pretty when you cry,”

Kai’s hand brushed past your mound, fingers slipping between your thighs and started stroking; deceptively gentle caresses at the sensitive bundle of nerves until your entire body started to tremble. The hot coil in your belly was now impossibly tight.

“Puh-please please please Kai ‘m gonna c-”

“Go ahead,”

You didn’t need to be told twice. Kai groaned, his head falling to rest on your shoulder, his sloppy thrusts coming to a decrescendo.

“Make a mess on my cock. There you go baby- ahh fuck– yeah just like that,”

Kai buried himself deep inside you and you felt the warmth flooding your insides. He thrust lazily into you for a few more times for good measure, and you could feel his cock continuing to throb and spasm as he buried his come as deep as he could.

When the residual spasms finally waned, he pulled out, your combined release seeping out between your thighs and splattering onto the floor. You shivered from the loss of contact. He smirked, nipped playfully at your earlobe.

“What a way to start a morning, hm?”

…

After the hot water had finally run out and you both had cleaned yourselves, you sighed contentedly as you wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel. Despite the soreness between your thighs, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied. This had to be one of the best sex you ever had in your life.

Then, reality came crashing back as you remembered the potential consequences of your reckless actions.

“Kai! You didn’t pull out!” you squeaked, the pitch of your voice raising with panic. You weren’t on birth control either, since Kai was paranoid about side effects.

Kai, still tying his blue hair into a bun in front of the bathroom mirror, turned and looked at you. “The senate election is in the bag. Might as well start trying for a baby now,” he said coolly.

Phase two was already in motion, without you even knowing it.

 fear-is-truth 2024 — all rights reserved. do not modify, repost, translate, or plagiarise my content.

[songmingisthighs]

Pitiful, You're Pitiful

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ch. v

group : ateez

pairing : aged up!wooyoung × aged up!reader

genre : angst, mature

word count : 5.2 k

warning : adultery, cheating, negative depiction of wooyoung, name calling, (y/n) finally growing a damn spine frfr

a/n : i'm finally updating this oh my god has it been so damn long I am saw sawrey for skipping updating in july. let's hope I can update twice on September or just not forget to update in september lmaoooooo i

buy me coffee ?

Ever since that day at the hospital, you felt like you've been living your life on autopilot. Scratch that, it felt like you were just watching your life happening like a movie. You couldn't quite feel anything and it was as if life's choices were already made for you.

Oh yeah. Choices.

As if that word meant anything to you.

You were reluctant to go back to see Wooyoung at the hospital as he had once again been put on a 24-hour observation period because he had exhibited signs of mental distraught on top of his back pain. Ironic. Your plan was to pack some of his shit up, throw it at him and tell him that he could finally go live with his whore and just make an exit from his life and maybe for once you could work your children into your decision instead of it going the other way.

But of course, life had a different plan because the devils must be making snowmen in hell.

Once your children were made aware of the situation their father was in (all thanks to San, one of Wooyoung's partners who struck up a conversation with Dayoung when he came by the house to drop off some things Wooyoung had requested from earlier in the morning), they immediately asked to be taken to him. At that moment you wanted to tell them that it wouldn't be possible since you and Wooyoung were splitting or separating or whatever the correct term was. But seeing their distraught face and hearing them beg you broke your heart, it was obvious that you couldn't break their hearts at that moment. So you relented, you took them to the hospital the next day, allowing them to skip school against your better judgment. You can see how stereotypes about children being spoiled after their parents divorced came to be.

Wooyoung was honestly surprised to see you through his door. He had thought that you would never show your face again but there you stood in front of him, nearly bringing tears to his eyes. But before he could say anything (nothing you wanted to hear anyway), you raised a hand and told him the situation, including the fact that your children knew nothing and that you weren't planning on telling them until the two of you could sit them down together and have a proper discussion when the time is right, so until then, you promised to remain civil as long as he promised to do the same and also not involve his affair partner with their children yet. Wooyoung attempted to protest because he felt like he needed to let you know that he was well on his way to breaking up with her before the incident and he had even told her to not come to the hospital and to not visit him at all. Unfortunately, you didn't want to hear what he had to say and you simply opened the door to let your children in, rushing to their father with tears in their eyes from being so worried.

During the whole visit, you stayed in the far corner, looking at your children interacting with their father for a good hour before you suddenly left the room. You came back with one of Wooyoung's gigantic Prada travel bags, plopping it on his bed before instructing your children that their dad needed to rest. They had attempted to bargain with you, telling you that they weren't going to school anyway so it wouldn't hurt if they were to stay and take care of their father. It astounded you that Wooyoung had the audacity to tell them that they'd have plenty of time with him when he come home. It was one of the rare times your anger took over you but you let slip that Wooyoung would not come home with you. You immediately regretted saying that.

"What do you mean dad's not coming home with us? He's sick, mom," Dayoung scoffed, tightening her grip on Wooyoung's arm angrily. Still, you stood your ground, "I... Am not equipped to care for a sick man. He hurt his back again after three weeks of me taking care of him so obviously someone else could take care of him," you cleverly took a jab at the bitch he had been with and Wooyoung was well aware of it as seen from the way his face grew red and his eyes started to well up with tears. Unfortunately for you, Woohyun saw this and he immediately climbed up to his dad's bed, frantically wiping his tears, "Daddy don't cry!" he whimpered, and he too started tearing up seeing his dad with tears in his eyes and seeing how much his son loved him, Wooyoung started crying as well, overwhelmed from the way his children cared for him which pushed his guilt into its maximum level because he had finally realized the other people he had hurt with his inexcusable decision.

You were very much aware of why Wooyoung was crying and again, you couldn't help but let your feelings overtook you as you rolled your eyes. Dayoung, seeing you reacting the way you did, took a big offence since she had clearly seen you with Yunho and based off of the wrong conclusion she drew, she took your behaviour as you trying to leave Wooyoung for his own friend. But of course, she couldn't reveal her knowledge just yet.

"Mom, how could you be so cruel?" she spat, "I swear, if something happens to dad because you wouldn't take him in because you're so selfish, I will never forgive you," she declared.

And that was how you ended up spending the next 4 days sleeping on the couch with Wooyoung sleeping in your bed. The man who broke your heart slowly started to break your back in a new way, a way unlike he had done a long time ago. The time when you both were still in love. The time when it was all still good.

"Thank you."

A voice broke you out of your trance and when you looked around, you saw Wooyoung leaning against the bathroom door, looking somewhat bashfully at the floor before his eyes moved to yours from the mirror. Unfortunately for him, you immediately shifted your gaze to the pile of towels you were folding and storing into the cabinet.

"For letting me stay here," he finished, offering you a small smile as a gesture of goodwill as if you were expecting him to thank you. You'd very much like to say that his gesture meant nothing to you and that you no longer felt anything for him. What's more infuriating was the smile he gave you was still the mirror image of the boyish grin that managed to charm you into trying yourself to him, it was the same boyish grin that made your stomach flutter even at that moment, despite him hurting you and betraying you. You hated it. You hated him for making you feel like that and you hated yourself for letting yourself feel like that.

You cleared your throat, willing yourself to hold your emotions at bay despite feeling like breaking down out of sadness and frustration. "Don't thank me, Wooyoung," Wooyoung felt his stomach drop from the way you called his name out and it instinctively made him swallow the lump in his throat, "If you must thank anyone, thank your children. Particularly your daughter whom I'd have to admit is quite the master extortionist and manipulator, I'd wonder more about where she inherited those traits if I'm not more concerned that she has what it takes to be a politician one day," you said, avoiding looking at Wooyoung with absolute determination which hurt him but he had to admit he absolutely deserved. But he didn't want to push his pity party on you so he swallowed his feelings and stepped into the bathroom, "You... I don't think the couch would be a very comfortable place to sleep in and you've been at it for four days so," you cut him off with a scoff, "I can say with absolute confidence that the couch was very uncomfortable for several good night's rest, especially considering the fact that after the torture, I still have to cater to your children and also you." That time you really wanted to drive in the hostility to let him know that you definitely did not let him stay out of the goodness of your heart. "Well you could've joined me in our bed," he sighed, saying the words as if he didn't know what he was saying and the gravity of it all.

But if he was oblivious to his words then the glare you gave him once you turned around conveyed all the feelings you reserved for him. "You know damn well why I couldn't have, Wooyoung," you spat, shoving the towels into the cabinet harshly as you sped up your work so you could get out of the room faster. "We might be fighting and all, (y/n) but if it's costing you your rest and your wellbeing then-" "Fighting? You think we're-" You held yourself from screaming at him and pushed past him to peek outside, wanting to make sure that neither one of your kids were nearby to hear the conversation. Wooyoung took this as you leaving the room to not talk to him so he was surprised when you turned back to push him inside the bathroom, this time with you near the door.

"Get this into your head, Wooyoung, we didn't fight, we didn't have a disagreement, it wasn't a misunderstanding between us, you fucking CHEATED on me with the first doe-eyed slut bitch who was willing to open her legs and break up a family probably because she was just so stupid and deluded enough to think that she could make her own family with you, so no, I couldn't share that bed or other beds or any other surface where one could rest on with you because you have ruined me, Wooyoung, you have ruined our marriage, and you have ruined my inner peace so all you could do now is get the fuck better so I can either kick you out or leave without being manipulated by anyone just because you're physically injured when I'm absolutely dead. You killed me, you killed my soul. You and that whore." you spat before turning and leaving him in the bathroom as quickly as you could so he couldn't stop you. Tears were brimming in his eyes as he let the words you hurled at him pierce his heart but he couldn't even complain. After all, he hurt you a million times worse so he had no excuse for himself.

You rushed to the kitchen, the only place you could think of to cool down and not just because you downed a tall glass of iced water that did nothing for your anguish. To make things worse, as you were still trying to calm yourself, your daughter came strolling in on her phone, being absolutely clueless over your distress.

"Hey Mom, can we order that soup from that place Dad likes for dinner? He seems rather down and y'know... Flimsy lately, I just want him to get his strength back."

Oh, how you wanted to ask her why she cared so much for her dad but she couldn't spare common decency to you. By all means you were not a vindictive person nor were you petty. But God, at that moment you wanted to turn around and ask her, "What about me? What about what I like? What about what I need? What about how I've been broken for months now because your father is a cheating son of a bitch?" Unfortunately, you were not your husband. You were not selfish. You were too good even to those who had betrayed you and then some.

"Mom?" She called, an eyebrow raised along with her face from her phone when she didn't hear you answer her. Sighing, you immediately gather yourself to make your leave quickly, "We can talk about this later, I need to pick up Woohyun from the Academy, his class is ending soon."

Dayoung didn't find that answer acceptable so she pressed, "No way, you'll be gone for a while and if we 'talk' about it later, Dad would have to wait to eat and that would be bad for someone who's sick!" "I really can't talk right now sweetie, I promise I just need to go now," you said, turning around to make your leave only to see Dayoung in your way, glaring at you. "Why are you rushing to go to the Academy?" It was such a confusing question because while the answer is easy and you were sure she even knew but her tone made it seem like she was alluding to another meaning. You opened your mouth to answer but she beat you to it, "Who are you rushing to see, Mom? Is it Uncle Yunho? Are you rushing so you could spend more time with him? Perhaps you're hoping to get more hugs from him or maybe something more?" The accusation dropped on you like a thousand tons and your jaw slacked from surprise, "Mind your tone, young lady. What are you trying to say?" "I saw you and Uncle Yunho hugging in front of our house. Mind telling me what all of that was?"

In your daughter, you saw a glimpse of your husband and it infuriated you. Her defiance, her stubbornness, her instinct to pursue the truth. While all of that might be good in life when applied properly, you couldn't help but be sure that your girl had crossed a line with you.

"I don't need to talk to you about that and you don't need to know more than the fact that it was nothing, it was between me and my friend and your tone is disrespectful so I would suggest you drop this attitude RIGHT NOW," you didn't mean to sound so harsh and you felt bad when Dayoung's bottom lip quivered before she dashed out of the kitchen, going God knows where. A tired sigh escaped your lips, you truly were under a lot of pressure and even though you were stressed, even though you were emotional, you shouldn't have snapped at your daughter like that. You knew you had to make it up to her but at that moment, you really do need to go get Woohyun so you simply grabbed your bag and your keys and left the house.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung jumped slightly when Dayoung came barging into his room, huffy and her face all red. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion seeing her in such a state. "Dayoung, what ha-" "How do you stand her?" she asked, cutting Wooyoung off. "What?" "How can you stand Mom? She's such a bitch," she hissed, wiping the tears off her cheek.

Wooyoung was taken aback at the language Dayoung used to describe you. "Hey, don't talk about your mother like that," Wooyoung scolded, voice firm and he stood up from his bed, "I didn't raise you to use such language on your mom." "But she IS a bitch!" Dayoung screeched, "You don't know what she's been doing behind your back, Dad. God, she's so manipulative, you don't even know!" Wooyoung felt his body vibrate with anger because he couldn't let his own daughter talk about you like that. "You drop this, Jung Dayoung, you drop this right now because you don't know what you're talking about and I'm not willing to listen to you talk smack about your own mother," he warned in a low voice. Usually, when Wooyoung spoke to her like this, Dayoung would drop it and say sorry, wanting to go back to her dad's good graces. But not this time, not when she felt that her father had been wronged by you. "Oh Dad, believe me, I know A LOT of stuff. For example, I know that there is stuff going on between Mom and Uncle Yunho," Dayoung said pointedly.

There was something that was like a tug on his heart hearing your name and Yunho's in a sentence that was put in such a way. But he knew that you were not like that and his daughter shouldn't talk about her own mom like that. "Jung Dayoung, I'm warning you, drop this right now," he sternly said. Despite seeing the seriousness in her dad's eyes, Dayoung pressed on, "You don't think I noticed that there's something going on between you two this past couple of months? The tension is palpable and don't even get me started on Mom sleeping on the couch and saying that it was because you needed the space to heal. WAKE UP DAD, MOM'S CHEATING ON YOU!" she yelled out.

"SHE COULDN'T BE CHEATING ON ME BECAUSE I WAS THE ONE WHO CHEATED ON HER!" Wooyoung yelled louder, causing Dayoung to jump back in shock not just because of his volume but also because of the information Wooyoung just revealed. The moment the words left Wooyoung's mouth, it felt like cold water was splashed on him. Harshly. But he couldn't take it back, he couldn't go back from this.

"I... Cheated on your mother... And then she found out. She told me she found out that day I got hurt because..." Wooyoung paused, suddenly deciding that he shouldn't tell Dayoung that he was with his side piece when you found out. Not that it helped because Wooyoung's sudden reluctance to finish his sentence was a dead giveaway. "I was the asshole in this situation and (y/n)- your mother has been sleeping on the couch because she couldn't bear sharing a bed with me but you and Woohyun had asked me to stay so she held it in. She did what she was asked and she did it despite her own personal apprehension. She loves you so much that she'd rather suffer silently rather than disappointing you and Woohyun." The more Wooyoung spoke of your action and about your altruism, the more he realized how much he fucked up by cheating on you. He had gotten everything he wanted from you, heck you put it on a silver, golden, platinum platter stacked over one another and when it got hard for you, when you needed him the most, he took your kindness and love for granted and pursued the suddenly missing 5% from you. He hated himself. And by the look Dayoung gave, it seem like he isn't the only one.

For the first time ever, Dayoung looked at her father with such hurt and disappointment that even Wooyoung could taste the hatred on his tongue.

"So your mother doesn't deserve to be called a bitch because she is far from one. She's a saint for putting you, me, and Woohyun over her own self so you will show her the respect she deserves. The respect we all owe her," he stated firmly but his voice shook around the part about you deserving respect. Wooyoung was sure that no one could think of him lower than he already thought of himself. Though people could easily conduct a poll.

With chest heaving, Dayoung took a step back, then another, then another until she reached the door and her hand reached for the handle, "Don't talk to me like that, I am nothing like you in this equation." As if she couldn't bear another second with her father, Dayoung left the room the same way she came in, by slamming the door. Wooyoung had braced himself to receive backlash but to hear his own daughter harshly stating how she was not like her father truly hurt him. But it was all deserved and he couldn't even complain.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It would appear that the day had been kinder to you than expected because you had planned on postponing coming home late by allowing Woohyun to take his time packing his stuff or taking him out to dinner and maybe get some dinner for Wooyoung and Dayoung at another place. Maybe another city. But as it appears, Woohyun's class ran longer than expected since they had a special guest teacher who came in from another country. Hearing this, you were about to leave the premises to wait in your car or go to a convenience store when you heard Seonghwa, one of Wooyoung's former dance crew mates turned business partner and teacher of the academy, called you up.

"Hey (y/n), how's it going?" He asked, beaming with happiness. Pissed that your friend cheated on me with one of your staff, you thought, "Good, Seonghwa. How are you? How's dating life?" you teased which made him roll his eyes, "Oh shut up, I should have settled down in my late 20s like you told me to. The girls who approach me only approach me because they have daddy issues and I don't know what to do with that information." Still better than my marriage I'd guess, you snarkily added in your head. "I was just about to step out for a bit until Woohyun finished his class, so..." You trailed off, trying to give him the hint that you were trying to get away but it simply went over his head. "Actually, I have some things for Wooyoung to look over, I know he's supposed to be back soon but these are just a couple of plans, budget details, and meeting minutes he can look over to catch up. I was planning to give it myself later tonight but since you're here, would it be okay for me to ask you to give them to him?" he smiled a bit too gleefully for your taste because you were in such a bad state. But you couldn't fault his nonchalance as he was not aware of the situation happening at home. So you nodded at Seonghwa, returning his smile though it wasn't half as genuine as his, "Sure, you can give it to me." "Great, thanks! Wait here, I'll go to the office and get them for you!" Seonghwa then jogged in the direction of the joint office in the back, leaving you at the waiting area where the receptionist is and also other students with their friends and some younger ones with their parents.

"Mrs. Jung?"

That voice froze you not just because you were surprised, but also because that voice was the one voice you didn't want to hear calling for you.

"Mrs. Jung!" Harin called before she jogged over to stand next to you, "Hello, it's nice seeing you again!" she smiled cheerfully which made you want to slap her face as hard as you could but you kept your composure. Even if the inner side of your cheek took the brunt to the point of nearly bleeding. You mustered all of the patience in your body to hum in acknowledgment and gave her the most neutral, polite smile you could give. "A-are you here alone? What are you doing at the Academy?" she asked. What bitch, you were hoping that Wooyoung's here too? And this is his academy that his kids have been part of since before you came here two years ago, I'm welcomed here unlike you in my fucking marriage. "Woohyun," you simply said before you averted your gaze, purposefully turning around in hopes that she'll get the hint and leave you before you maul her like a rabid cat. "I like Woohyun, he's so nice to me," Harin chuckled a bit too innocently for your liking due to the insinuation and the situation, "He always calls me pretty and compliments me. Of course, he's just a generally nice kid because even the other dancers like him. And of course, they also like Dayoung who's just so opinionated and strong and bright. They truly are the mirror image of their dad."

That was fucking it.

"Really!?" you snapped at her with a voice so sharp it should've turned her into ceviche. Harin jumped slightly from the sharpness of your tone as she looked at you in surprise, taking in how you were squinting your eyes at her in disbelief. "I-I'm sorry, wha-" you cut her stupid mouth off, not even wanting to hear her feigning confusion as the why you would react that way considering the fact that she had just acted like she knew your kids enough on top of having the nerve to talk all intimate-like about your husband. "You think you can talk to me that way about MY kids after everything?" "w-w- what did I say? I-I was just saying that I adore them," Harin tried to defend herself but your anger had made it seem like you doubled in size and you were towering over her. "And who do you think you are to adore my children?" it was obvious that you were no longer holding back your anger and while a part of you dreaded this, another felt glad that you were finally able to stand up for yourself. "I know everything, you slut," you sneered, taking a step closer to get a better look at the way her face fell, "I know you've been screwing my husband behind my back. He confirmed it to me."

By then you had caught the attention of the people around and you were sure that they had heard you but you didn't care. You stood over her, watching as she stuttered, looking as stupid as a fish out of water. "What? Nothing to say now? Nothing about my kids being the mirror image of the man you slept with multiple times and even shamelessly claimed to be your husband at the hospital?" you taunted, "You might have skipped this lesson in whore school, but when you see the wife of the man you're screwing, you blush, avert your eyes, and you scurry away like a roach, got it?" maybe you took it a step too far by humiliating her like that but you couldn't help the satisfied look on your face when she stared at you with reddened cheeks and a very displeased look on her face. The crowd gathering around you didn't make things any better for her because they were starting to whisper among themselves and you recognized some of them as the affluent stay-at-home moms whose husbands fall under the stereotypical cheating trope. So hearing you say all of that, they immediately started to look at Harin with disgust, and a small part of you, the evil part that was created due to hurt, took that as a win.

"Mommy?"

You turned around to see Woohyun standing not too far away from you with Seonghwa standing next to him, looking more surprised than your son who just looked concerned. Before you could react, Woohyun rushed to stand in front of you, glaring at Harin who looked at him with guilt. If you didn't know any better, you would've guessed that she was finally facing another innocent person who got affected by her selfishness. But you weren't as willing to consider her to have any semblance of humanity in her.

"Mommy, can we go home now?" Woohyun asked without looking at you but still keeping his glare on Harin. It was obvious to you that he was trying to distract you, trying to get you out of the uncomfortable situation which made you wonder about how much he knew or even understand. But you didn't want to hash it out in such a public place with him so you nodded and took his hand, automatically causing his attention to shift to you. "Yeah, of course, we can go home now sweetie. Have you gotten all of your things?" you asked in a tone so sweet that it caused Harin's spine to tingle from the palpable difference. It didn't help that once Woohyun turned away, he too, sported an innocent smile, nodding along and showing you his things that he had packed.

Turning around with Woohyun in tow, you shot Harin one last glare before stepping to face Seonghwa with a polite smile, "Is that the file you want to give my son of a bitch husband?" Seonghwa felt his knees buckle from fear but he tried his best to stabilize himself and smile at you, "Y-yeah, Wooyo-" The sudden shift to anger on your face when you heard your husband's name almost made Seonghwa shit his pants but he immediately corrected himself, "I-I mean, t-that son of a-a bitch, needs to review this and get back to me a-at, uh... YOUR earliest convenience?" your curtly nodded and offered him a polite smile whilst covering Woohyun's ears, "Thank you Seonghwa, and I'm sorry to have done this confrontation so publicly. It was not ideal but I was pushed to engage and since it's both out in the open and both it and my husband are hypocritical cowards who will not bring this up themselves, can I trust you to report this case to HR and see to it both of them get disciplinary action because it does break the inappropriate relationship rule and not to mention this could open you up to lawsuits should the bitch expand her reach and screw all of you as well? Thank you." Seonghwa immediately nodded his head and he was about to say something to comfort you but you had started your journey out of the academy, leaving Harin in the middle of the room, being pointed and whispered at by the people around, moms, and random people like other dancers and staff. Some had even fished out their phones and began to type away and Harin could only imagine that it was about her.

Humiliated, Harin was about to run away when a figure stepped out from the crowd and blocked her. She looked up to see Yunho staring at her with a less-than-pleased look on his face which terrified her because he was always the mood-maker.

"I think it would be best if you come with us to HR," he said in a low voice, briefly looking at Seonghwa who was immediately on his phone, looking distressed and frantic as he tried to get HR to immediately gather in the meeting room along with the other people who might be related.

Defeated, Harin hung her head and muttered under her breath, "That fucking bitch," she exhaled shakily which was easily heard by Yunho who clenched his jaw and with a tightly closed fist, hit the wall next to him hard enough that a loud BOOM echoed, surprising the people around who immediately dispersed whilst simultaneously causing Harin to cower.

"Mind your language because as of the moment (y/n) told Seonghwa hyung to report you to HR, anything and everything you said is a testament to your character and action and from what I'm seeing, you should not be calling (y/n) a bitch," he said through gritted teeth, forcing Harin to drop her face in absolute shame and simply followed when Yunho gestured for her to walk down the hallway (in shame).

"If I were you, I'd fire up my LinkedIn again because if you think Wooyoung would fight for you to stay, you'd end up wasting your time, his time, and frankly, everyone's time."

network :

@cultofdionysusnet @sandsofire @kflixnet @pirateeznet

taglist :

@atinyreads @strawberry-yeo @soobiverse @vixensss @smally97 @maidens-world @yunhoswrldddd @imcoenffl @nescaffei @miaatiny @showmehoseok @tmingi @wlv-asteria @sunwoosbaby @hyukssunflower @remi-young

@staytiny816 @dearinsaniiity @scentednerdenemy @melanchobtch

permalist :

@kodzukein @phenomenalgirl9 @skzatzloveismonsterous @memorymonster @surveilenceysystem @dreamlesswonder86 @maddiebabyxoxo @imababywolf @do-you-actually-care @marievllr-abg @ilsedingsx @wasteitonserendipity @bbymatz @noonaishere @honeyhwaaa @ateezourstars @yoonjunshi @yoongiigolden @camillelafaye @charreddonuts @kpopnightingale @starryunho @atinct @mirror-juliet @hyuckilstan @jayb17

[cottonlemonade]

Hello! I hope you’re having a good day/night can I order off menu B. I would like a cherry juice with a matcha roll please! Sitting next to either Oikawa or Iwaizumi please ^-^

Secret Admirer

word count: 1086 || avg. reading time: 5 mins.

pairing: Iwaizumi x chubby!Reader (feat. Oikawa)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

request: fluffy, secret admirer with crush Iwaizumi, as manager

You paused when you unzipped your bag and after a moment’s confusion looked around. The last few stragglers of the team just left, laughing and talking, racing each other to the showers. Turning back to your bag you fished out the two folded pieces of paper that lay on top of your books. One was a simple sheet of gridded paper, seemingly torn from a notepad. One side was a little crumpled like it had been ripped rather hurriedly. The other one was neatly folded into a square, the four corners each adorned with a little heart in red ink.

You unfolded the first, plain looking paper and read. With each line your eyes grew wider and you felt your heart pounding all the way up in your throat. A love letter! No, a love note - as it was rather short. At first you thought someone must have made a mistake - this was most likely supposed to be for someone else - but it said your name at the very top. It described how the author of the note had been in love with you since you gave Kyotani a piece of your mind for not working well with the rest of the team and causing injuries with his recklessness (upon which the wing spiker had mumbled an apology and bowed half-heartedly to the other players).

It ended with a simple declaration of calling you “cool and pretty” and then apparently, whoever it was, didn’t think it necessary to sign a name. Still giddy from the first, you opened the second letter. Now this one was… a bit more out there. You frowned as you read. It was undoubtedly written by a boy judging by the handwriting but the hearts and cute little doodles along the page confused you. Maybe it was a first year? But this one also had your name at the top and even written on the back so there was no doubt that it found the right recipient. However, it felt a lot more like a joke which made you doubt the authenticity of the first letter. What if some first years thought it would be funny to tease the chubby manager with thoughts about not just one but two secret admirers?

Your mood darkened and with a sigh you crumpled up both the notes and tossed them into the trash on your way out.

The next day you tried to push the whole thing out of your mind. Chatting with your friends over lunch you told them about the notes and they agreed that it sounded like a dumb joke and you did the right thing by throwing them out.

In a free period, the third years went to the gym for cleaning duty. Hanamaki and Matsukawa made a competition out of mopping the floor while Iwaizumi and Oikawa took out the trash after cleaning the volleyballs.

Iwaizumi furrowed his brow as he lifted the wastepaper basket at the door to pour its contents into a large trash bag . He spotted a bit of paper with hearts and your name in the middle of them. Covertly, he picked it out between the rest of crumpled balls and, making sure his friends were far enough away not to see, turned his back to them to smooth out the note. He recognized the handwriting immediately and gagged at the letter. This sounded like it was written by a middle schooler at best! And what was with all those hearts and was that supposed to be a teddy bear drawing?

Iwaizumi glanced back into the basket, panic rising in his chest and sure enough, another note on familiar paper was also crumpled on top.

“Hey!! Shittykawa!”

“Don’t call me that, Iwa-chan!”, Oikawa whined but jogged over to his friend, “What did I do now?”

Iwaizumi boiled with anger as he lifted the cringey letter up to the setter’s eyes.

“Oh no, she threw it out? I really worked on that.”, he pouted.

“Why- why are you writing love letters to her in the first place!? You don’t like her like that!”

Oikawa gave him a superior smile, the kind he whipped out during games when he knew he was three steps ahead of the other team.

“I was helping you, Iwa-chan. You said you don’t know how to confess and you scoffed at my confession letter idea. But I know you wouldn’t want to wait until graduation, so”, he took the letter from his hands, “I decided to write one for you. - It’s a shame she didn’t like it. But then, one can’t help their taste. Evidently, since she picked you over me. - Ow! Iwa-chan, that hurt!” The captain rubbed his arm where Iwaizumi had punched him.

“I did write her letter.”, Iwaizumi pressed out from behind clenched teeth.

“… oh. And how did that go?”

The ace held up the second disregarded paper.

“Hm. She didn’t like either of them? Weird.”

“No, you idiot! She probably thought someone played a prank on her.”

The following squabble was interrupted by a loud clearing of the throat.

“Everything alright?”

Iwaizumi let go of Oikawa and bowed to you immediately.

“Sorry, y/n-kun. We just-“

He stopped when he followed your line of sight and noticed how you stared at the two notes still clutched tightly in their hands.

The two boys waited for your reaction and were surprised when you laughed nervously.

“Oh no, you guys saw those? Can you believe what the first years do for a laugh?”

Oikawa frowned and put a hand on his hip, “You really think first years could produce this kind of quality poetry?”, he waved the heart adorned letter in the air, then thought for a moment, adding in a mutter, “I mean, okay, maybe Iwa-chan’s wasn’t really- Ow! Stop kicking me!”

Iwaizumi glared at him to be quiet then turned back to you. Your embarrassed expression turned to confusion then to incredulity.

“What do you mean… “Iwa-chan’s”?”, you asked slowly.

Oikawa made a gesture like a waiter directing a guest to their table, pushing Iwaizumi forward with the other hand.

The ace stumbled for a second, then caught himself at the bottom of the few entry steps to the gym. He was close enough now that you saw the dark pink of his ears as he rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding your eyes.

“Was it really that bad?”, he mumbled and when he finally looked at you found you beaming up at him.

a/n: special thank you to @haikyu-mp4 for supplying me with the perfect ending! And thank you for the request ^^ I hope you enjoyed it! If anyone has seen Ouran High School Host Club, for Oikawa’s attempt to help Iwa I had the letter in mind Kyoya and the twins wrote in Haruhi’s name in episode two xD

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Three

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 1482

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two

Masterlist Here

You weren’t too sure what to expect when Ragnar said they would show you hospitality, but this was definitely something alright. You’d been given a dress that fit into the time period a bit better and made you stick out less than you had before. well, that was if you ignored the fact your hair was completely different from everyone else and everyone, but the Ragnarsson’s took at least three steps back whenever you approached.

When his brothers realised Ivar had been sneaking in to talk to you their protests began, “That’s not fair!”

“Why didn’t you tell us she could understand us?”

“Why did she talk to you and not us?”

You didn’t even feel the need to mention he’d bribed you with food. Ivar was good enough at arguing for himself. meanwhile as they bickered at the dinner table Bjorn sat at the other end staring at you the whole time. it defiantly wasn’t completely unsettling. Ragnar meanwhile was asking you a million questions you didn’t know how to answer.

“So how does a lighter work?”

“A spark happens when you press down and lights the gas,” you tried to explain while you ate your stew.

Ragnar nodded as he thought it over, “I think I understand. But what is a gas?”

“Uh…”  you said but Bjorn cut you off, effectively silencing everyone at the same time.

“How do we know you’re not a witch?” he said making Ivar roll his eyes and for once Ubbe and Ivar seemed to agree with something.

“If she was a witch surely, she would’ve escaped by now?” Ubbe sighed.

“Besides,” Hvitserk said, cheeks pink from his fourth glass of mead, “She’s far too pretty to be a witch,” he said, throwing a wink your way making your own cheeks heat up. The way Ivar glared at Hvitserk though put you on edge.

It was Sigurd turn to roll his eyes at his brother, “You’re a pig. And besides she hasn’t done anything. How do I know you won’t kill me in my sleep?”

“If anyone is going to do that it will be Ivar,” Ubbe said so nonchalantly you felt your jaw drop.

Especially when Ivar chimed in, “This is true,”

You could see the growing annoyance on Bjorn’s face as his younger brothers had their petty fights, something you would soon have to get used to. Clearly Aslaug was used to it however as she sank more into her wine. You had to admit the wine at least was nice. “I don’t know how I can earn your trust Bjorn, but I swear on my life I didn’t come to hurt anyone,”

You half expected him to laugh or roll his eyes at you but instead he cocked his head to the side, “Who told you, my name?”

You watched as everyone paused what they were doing to turn to look at you. “How did you know any of our names?” Sigurd asked.

You debated lying, saying Ivar told you but you didn’t feel like that was a good hole to dig. Instead, you swallowed hard, “Well everyone knows your name. you’re Bjorn ironside. Son of Ragnar. The Ragnarssons are famous,” you tried to say it nonchalantly while being very aware each one of them had a knife or axe.

However, flattery seemed to work, “And me as well?” Ragnar asked, a spark behind his eyes, “After all I am Ragnar Lodbrok,” he said making his sons all roll their eyes.

“Well of course. there are legends about you. they write tv shows about your lives,”

They all seemed so proud of themselves, even Aslaug had a smile behind her cup. You felt satisfied with your excuse until Bjorn asked, “What is a tv show?”

“Uh…”

-

Later that night Ivar showed you to a room that looked far less like a prison than the one you’d been in before. “We’ve got your-whatever these are,” Ubbe said as he and Sigurd walked into the room with a bag each and Hvitserk came in behind them with a flagon of wine.

“They’re just bags,” you said as you took them and moved to sit on the makeshift bed they had.

Privacy clearly wasn’t a thing here as all four boys sat down and began passing the wine around, “What’s in that one?” Sigurd asked, pointing to your guitar case.

You opened it and pulled it out, “Is it some kind of lute?” Hvitserk asked but you could see Sigurd was the keenest.

“I guess?” you said, placing it on your lap and gently strumming the strings, “It’s called a guitar,”

“Play us something?” Ubbe asked before taking a swig out the wine.

You sighed as you looked at the strings and tried to think of a song before your fingers found the strings and you began to strum.

“I’m like the water when your ship rolled in that night,

Rough on the surface, but you cut through like a knife,” you began to sing Taylor swift softly as you played Willow. All four boys seemed mesmerised as you sang and even Ivar stayed quiet until the last night, “I’m begging for you to take my hand,

Wreck my plans, that’s my man,” you finished, placing your hand over the strings and looking up to finally meet their eyes.

“That was beautiful,” Sigurd said, “Did you write that?”

“Yes,” you said without thinking. After all a little white lie never hurt? Besides its not like Taylor would know or anyone could prove you wrong, “Yes I did,”

“You’re very talented,” Ubbe said, passing you the wine.

You looked at it sceptically before finally taking a drink. It’s not like they’d need to poison you anyway. You were already screwed. You all began to drink and laugh the night away as you played a few more songs on the guitar, even letting the boys try have a shot. What you didn’t see however was Bjorn standing beside the door to your room, smiling softly whenever you sang.

-

 The next day Ubbe offered to give you a tour of Kattegat so you could get to know the place. “This is the market,” he said as a little girl ran away from you to her mother making you bite back a laugh, “Sorry about that. They’ll be less frightened of you soon,”

You chuckled at his words making a smile stretch on his face, “Its ironic. Out of everyone here I’m the least frightening one,”

“I don’t know so much,” he said. You narrowed your eyes at him with a curious smile making him chuckle, “Weve never met anyone like you. you are so…” he paused searching for the right word,” rare,”

“That’s the nicest thing I think someone has ever said to me,” you said.

Ubbe gave you a soft smile as he led you around the stalls. You tried to refuse it, but he did buy you a knife, promising to show you how to use it just encase. Even the way he insisted made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.

As you were walking around the market you did bump into someone. “Bjorn!” Ubbe called to his brother who wore an uncomfortably stoic look as he walked over. “I was just showing her round Kattegat,”

Bjorn nodded, his eyes scanning your frame, “Good. Can’t have you getting lost now, can we? Think my father might have a fit if we lost you,” something about the way his eyes studied you had a heat creeping up the back of your neck.

“I hope all his questions don’t bother you,” Ubbe said, giving you a sorry smile.

It was true that every conversation with Ragnar was like an interrogation. He wanted to know everything you could tell him about the future and honestly you didn’t know how to explain how a television worked. “I don’t mind. Its sweet,” you said making them both chuckle, “What?”

“Most people would not describe my father as sweet,” Bjorn said, a smile finally cracked onto his lips.

“She’s also friends with Ivar so she may not be fully right in the head,” Ubbe teased.

“Ivars not that bad,” you rolled your eyes, but both their eyes seemed to bulge out their skulls, “He’s a lot nicer when people aren’t constantly picking on him,” you half joked though you did hate how they teased him. especially Sigurd who whenever Ivar wasn’t around was kind but whenever he walked into the room you could cut the air with a knife.

Ubbe just tutted at you, “Oh you have much to learn sweet, foolish, girl. It’s a good thing we found you when we did,” You did your best to roll your eyes and blow him off but for the rest of the day you found your mind wandering. What would it be like to date a Viking?

Part four here

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[plussizefantasia]

CozyTober Day 11: Last Minute Family Gathering

Steve Harrington x reader

warnings: mention of Steve's shitty homelife, other than that just fluff

WC: 1.2k

a/n: I'm OBSESSED with how this turned out! Steve is such a sweetheart and I love him so much in this! Reblog if you liked this and keep a look out for Day 12! (I'm catching up I promise)

You knew that Steve’s home life left a lot to be desired. In all of your years of knowing home, you could count the number of times he had told you about family dinners on your hands. You’re not sure if that was because Steve had family dinners so infrequently that there wasn’t much to share, or because when he did have them they weren’t the kind of night he liked to talk about.

Either way, when your mom told you that you’re cousins and grandparents on her side were coming over for dinner that night you knew that you could give Steve at least one good family dinner memory.

Everyone’s family had ups and downs but your mom’s side was your favorite and after dating Steve for a year you thought it might be time to introduce him to everyone. When you called to ask if he wanted to come over he practically jumped down your throat to say yes and then promptly began panicking.

“What should I wear? What should I bring?! What if your grandma doesn’t like me? What kind of stuff does your grandpa like? Should I be right on time? Or should I be like fifteen minutes early?” Question after question tumbled out his mouth.

“Stevie, baby, listen. You can wear whatever you want but it probably wouldn't be a bad idea to wear like a sweater and a nice pair of jeans. If you come early, we can hang out in my room until it’s time for dinner and I’m sure that everyone will love you because I love you and they love me.”

“I love you too.” His voice crackled through the phone, “You still didn’t tell me what your grandpa likes.”

“I will see you at 6:00 baby. I love you.” You hung up the phone and took a deep breath, nervous but excited jitters running through your body.

You passed the kitchen on the way up to your room and poked your head in to see your mom already in the midst of cooking.

“Hey Ma, Steve’s coming for dinner okay? He’ll be here around 6.”

She looked up from the bowl she was stirring, “Oh, that’ll be so nice, I haven’t seen him in ages.”

“It’s been two weeks Mom, you talked to him for like half an hour the last time he came to pick me up for school. We were both late to the first period.” You raised an eyebrow at him.

She just rolled her eyes and waved you off. How come she got to roll her eyes at you? If you did that to her you’d lose your walkman for like a whole week!

Steve got there at 5:45 before any of your family arrived and he parked several houses down. When he got to the door you were already standing there with a question on your face. “The heck you park so far away for?” 

He shrugged, “Wanted to leave enough space for everyone to park close to the house.” 

“You’re sweet.” You told him and gave him a soft kiss. 

Clutched in his hand were two small bouquets of flowers, they looked like they had been one big one that he had split in half but the thought was all you really cared about. He handed the smaller of the two off to you and kissed you once again, “You didn’t tell me what I needed to bring so I figured flowers were a safe bet.”

“You figured right, come on in, Mom’s doing pre-dishes so now is a good time to interrupt.” You pulled him through the doorway and shut it behind him. You took his jacket from him and hung it up in the hall closet. You made your way into the kitchen shortly after Steve and were not at all surprised that he and your Mom were already in deep conversation. 

You waited a solid fifteen minutes before interrupting, “Mom, can I take Steve now I wanted to get my homework done before everyone got here.” 

“Oh, sure! I’ve got a ton to do anyway.”

“Need any help?” Steve, gallently but unnecessarily asked.

“No, no you two go head upstairs, I’ll call you when people start getting here.”

“Okay, thanks Mom, Love you bye!” You call after you, not-so-subtly shoving Steve out of the kitchen and towards your room.

Once inside the safety of your four poster-covered walls, you flop down on your bed and drag Steve with you.

“What homework did you have to get done?” He asks.

“Oh, none. But I didn’t feel like standing and watching you talk to my mom for another hour.” 

He chuckles and wraps his arm around your waist, the two of you both lying on your sides and facing each other.

“Fair enough. Could you give me the rundown on everyone who's coming?” Steve asks, not doing a very good job of hiding the nervousness in his voice.

And you did, you spent the next hour in bed with your boyfriend detailing the ins and outs of your family relationships. Naming everyone and telling him who is who and what each of them likes and doesn’t like. You give him pointers on things to talk about and things to avoid and even quiz him on all the information you unloaded on him. He passes with flying colors just like you knew he would.

You're interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. You feel Steve tense up in your arms and kiss him as a distraction.

“Remember, They’ll love you because I love you and they love me. Okay?” You reassure him and smile when he nods. 

Your family slowly starts to trickle into the house and make their way to the dining room. You quickly claim your seats and place Steve in between you and your Dad; both giving him a buffer from people he doesn’t know and making him the buffer between you and your dad who is one of the grossest eaters you’ve ever met.

As the night goes on Steve perks up and starts talking to people. By the end of the night, you’re pretty sure that your Grandpa likes him more than you which you’ll deem a victory even though it stings a little.

The family migrates from room to room ‘saying their goodbyes’ for like two hours. But eventually, the house empties and it’s just you Dad, who is snoring in the recliner in the living room, your mom who refuses to let either of you help with dishes, and the two of you.

“So, was it as scary as you thought it’d be?” You asked Steve.

“Scarier.” Is his response, you smack his shoulder lightly and shake your head.

“Well, you didn’t show it, who knew you knew so much about the Roman Empire? I don’t think I’ve heard Grandad talk that much like… ever.”

“I think it’s a dude thing.” Steve laughed.

“Well, whatever it was he liked you. They all did.”

“I think so too.” Steve smiled. 

“So… you wanna come for Thanksgiving? My mom is making her garlic mashed potatoes and you love those.”

“Sure, I do love those potatoes.”

“Oh, I see how it is, the potatoes are your priority?”

“Yep.” He grins.

“Alright.” You put your hand up and start walking away. Steve manages to snag your hand and pull you back towards him.

“You know I love you.” He says, kissing you on the forehead, “I just love your mom’s mashed potatoes more.” 

You smack him.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hiii i just found your blog, I LOVE HOW YOU WRITE, and if i can request like an angsty story about house and wilson with reader, and the reader has like some disease that'll kill her😭😭😭😭😭im just craving angst

YOU ARE SO SWEET THANK YOU 💞💞 it's been awhile since I've written a good angst fic so this is perfect for me

Your Last Breath (Greg House x gn reader x James Wilson)

Warnings: talk of hospitals/medical procedures, reader has a mystery illness that kills them, they/them pronouns used a few times to refer to the reader in a gender neutral way, hurt/no comfort, heavy angst, main character death (spoiler: it's you)

The doctors had been trying for months to figure out what was wrong with you. Months of invasive tests, months of going back and forth with possible explanations, months of being put on temporary treatments that seemed to work for a short while before you eventually succumbed to whatever was causing your problems again.

Everyone was stumped, and by everyone I truly do mean everyone. Not even House could figure out what was wrong, something that frustrated him to no end for multiple reasons. And by the time he was finally able to figure out what the cause was, it was already too late.

The disease had progressed too far along on its course for the doctors to be able to treat it properly. The best they could do was make you comfortable for the few weeks you had left to live.

Usually he liked having cases he couldn't crack, he liked figuring out the puzzle of what was bothering his patient, he liked being able to go to Cuddy and say "I told you so" when it ended up him being right and everyone else was wrong. But not this time.

This time all he wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. If only. He'd gladly give up both of his legs if it meant you'd get better.

Meanwhile, the resident head of oncology wasn't taking the news very well, either. It was normal for House to shut himself away for extended periods of time, but not Wilson. He barely left his office anymore, not to check on his own patients, not to accept a request for a consult, nothing. In fact, the only time he ever did leave was to visit you.

Most nights were spent with either him or House at your side, checking your vitals and fetching whatever it was that you needed. You ended up having to beg the both of them to go home at some point, even if it was to just shower and change, but they still refused, choosing to stay at the hospital instead.

Occasionally one of the ducklings would stop by if either of them couldn't for some reason, whether that be due to another patient needing attention or because you finally convinced them to take a break for once.

Foreman was solemn, talking about arrangements that could possibly be made for your body after death if you hadn't decided already. Cameron was sympathetic, reassuring you that they'd make sure you wouldn't be in any pain during your last days on earth. Chase was playful, trying to take your mind off things by cracking a joke or two. And Cuddy was surprisingly very nurturing when she managed to make the time to check in on you.

The whole thing was very bittersweet. While you appreciated everyone caring so much about you, it hurt to know why they were doing it.

Your final day was surprisingly quiet, with no nurses stopping by to check on you every hour or so like they had been for the past couple of weeks where you'd been bedridden almost completely. You suspected someone had requested for that, so you could have a bit of peace in the last few hours you'd be alive for.

House stood at the foot of your bed, watching as you slept. He looked like he was about to say something when Wilson suddenly spoke up from the armchair beside your bed.

"Don't even think about it, House. You're not waking them up right now."

Despite Wilson's firm tone, House couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Oh, come on. It's not like it matters much, they're going to be dead soon anyway."

It took everything in the oncologist not to snap and strangle the man in front of him. The only thing that managed to stop him was the sound of you letting out a hacking cough as you woke up. Even with the oxygen machine, it had become increasingly more difficult for you to breathe.

"Guys, don't fight," you tried to make your tone stern as you lectured them, but your throat was dry and therefore made your voice weak and raspy when you spoke.

"Hey, hey, don't speak, it's alright," Wilson gently reassured you as he reached out to take one of your hands into his. Your skin felt clammy, but he didn't care.

House had a pained look in his eyes as he watched you, but he did his best to cover it up with his usual snark. "We were just talking about you. Trying to figure out who should get your stuff when you die."

Wilson gave him an evil look, but you simply laughed. At least, they thought you laughed. It was kind of hard to tell given how sick you were.

"You guys are funny."

If it were any other time, House would've beamed with pride and joy at being able to make you smile with one of his quips, but this time he just felt empty inside, knowing that it was possibly the last one you'd ever hear. He quietly observed as Wilson helped you drink some water out of a small paper cup, one hand helping you hold it up to your lips while the other rested on your shoulder.

"Thank you," was the only thing you managed to get out once you were done, your breathing stalling yet again when you tried to speak. The three of you knew it was getting close to when it was going to happen. The problem was that only one of you had accepted it, and it wasn't either one of the two doctors who were in the room.

"I love you guys," ended up being your final words, a bittersweet smile on your face and tears in your eyes as you took your last breath. You hoped they knew that you meant that. You hoped they knew that you didn't blame them.

And you hoped that your death helped to bring them closer together rather than tearing them apart. Maybe it was wishful thinking, but who really cared? It's not like you'd be around to witness it anyway.

End notes: I rarely ever finish a request this early so please don't expect this to become a normal thing 😭 I just got really into writing this for some reason and once I started I just couldn't stop

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[theoutcastrogue]

[From a 2014 article by John Darnielle of the Mountain Goats. He's talking about how a random spam email ended up inspiring a part of his book Wolf in White Van. Later, in 2020, the album Getting Into Knives came out, and I think it inspired its artwork too.]

"It took years for me to be able to just reflexively delete spam, or filter it so that I never see it at all. I blame the spammers for this; the quality of their work took a sharp nosedive at some point. But during whatever period of the internet’s growth you’d call the early 2000s, it seemed like you’d still get some winners: things that had been typed up by a person, sent out to a bunch of email addresses they’d bought or rented for 5 or 10 bucks from the only guy who was ever going to make any money in this particular exchange. Most of them went directly, if manually, into the trash; but once in a while, there’d be one that seemed to earn, at the very least, the minute it’d take me to read it.

The one I’m remembering here was subject-lined SUPPLY OF KNIVES. [...] The subject line opened on an all-caps email that boasted, in ornate, antiquated English appealing to the reader’s more refined sensibilities, about the high quality of the knives on offer at an external website. You shouldn’t click on links in spam email. I live my life on the razor’s edge! I clicked the link.

I want to tell you about these knives: They were beautiful. They were weird. They had elaborate designs in the handles, moons or stars of wolf heads, and special grips, and a variety of points. They were made from metals whose pedigrees were described lovingly, and had been struck — smithed? wrought? — via processes I knew absolutely nothing about, but that sounded fantastic, difficult, arcane. It’s the joy of specialized language: When you’re an outsider to it, it can’t help but sound cool.

Of course this is the whole idea of any operation like this. SUPPLY OF KNIVES could well have been, and probably was, a company in Ohio who’d stumbled across an old warehouse full of knives, and knew enough about sales to describe these things in the most exotic terms they could find. I’m pretty immune to pitches: Who likes to feel like he’s being pitched? But somebody involved with SUPPLY OF KNIVES had had just enough authorial flair — that, or true faith — to caption each knife’s mysterious, blurry accompanying JPEG with a description whose constant recourse to specialized vocabularies seemed to say, “You’re not even reading this unless you already know about this sort of thing. Let us therefore speak like the fellow travelers we are.”

It was like a trade catalog for roadside bandits in need of knives.

I can’t speak for everybody, but I know that when I was a child the life of the roadside bandit seemed like a pretty romantic way to go. I looked at all these knives and read the descriptions and was just generally delighted about the whole thing, so I saved the email in a “memorable spam” folder I used to keep that had maybe two other emails in it. A few years later, Apple came out with this robotic-arm-screen iMac you never see any more, and we were long overdue for a new computer so we got that; and then, after a while, I got myself a laptop, because I was traveling all the time, and eventually both the old iMacs ended up in the basement, and they were both asleep but alive until fairly recently, as far as I knew.

But when I went to check for the email, it was gone. The old blue iMac is dead, bricked, lifeless. Searches on the term “supply of knives” on this laptop and on good old robot-arm-screen find nothing. The backup CD for the blue iMac drive is probably in a drawer around here somewhere, but that’s like saying, “The coin I had in my swim trunks’ pocket is probably somewhere in the ocean.” There is no SUPPLY OF KNIVES. There’s only the memory."

[source]

And this is the wonderful cover art of Getting Into Knives. Back cover and promo material below. Note that "Knives International" and "Knives Wordwide" are not real companies, they appear to be a callback to that elusive spam email.

[bonelessicecream]

[fin.]

Headcanons:

Ji gave Jiequan a nickname because prior to meeting Ji, Jiequan's name had never been called fondly. He flinched every time Ji called for him. They tried a few nicknames, but ultimately settled on "Xiao Quan" because Jiequan was terribly small for his age... (And perhaps also because Ji hoped he would not grow up too quickly - not like those other youths they once knew, who pursued power to a terrible end.)

Jiequan only started referring to himself in the third person after he met Ji. He never had the chance to be a proper child before that. He outgrew the habit as he got older, of course, but he was excellent at playing up his cuteness as a child.

Jiequan has a brief period where he thinks Lear is really cool. That's why he has a ponytail as a teenager.

...In some ways, Jiequan only grew up to be what he was because he encountered Ji. He wanted to be loved, desperately, and forged himself in imitation of those heroes that Ji seemed strangely fond of in the histories they recounted. If anything, perhaps the problem was that his imitation was too good. He became a larger than life character, an act, a collection of someone else's ideas- and lost the sincerity which made him so endearing as a child. Yet at the same time, this turned him into someone Ji could no longer accept: a cruel, sadistic, and self-centered man who willfully inflicted pain onto others for his own ends.

But Jiequan could no longer turn back. He came to harbour a strange mix of bitter resentment and desperate longing for Ji's affection. If guoshi didn't approve of his actions, then guoshi had to be wrong, because Jiequan- Jiequan was doing everything right. This is what he wanted, right? This is what they asked for. He listened to Ji's prophecies and counsel as guoshi because he could not let go, and yet dismissed their words as merely the anxieties of an old Solarian.

When he met Yi, the first thing that struck Jiequan was how deeply unlikeable this tiny runt was. Sharp-tongued, standoffish, and disinterested in anything that didn't appeal to him, Yi was the type of person who made enemies as easily as breathing. And yet... He was outstanding. His martial prowess and scientific skill, for one matter, and for the other... the fact that Yi was undeniably loved. They weren't so different really, Jiequan and Yi- and yet, Jiequan was alone while Yi had friends and family who cared for him.

So came the second thing that struck Jiequan about Yi: he wanted him, and he wanted to break him. What would it be like, he wondered, to have someone finally hold Jiequan and only Jiequan in their eyes? Even if the emotion was motivated by pure hatred- what would it be like to occupy the whole of someone's mind? To be seen as himself, instead of a ghost from the past? If he took Yi apart, perhaps Jiequan could finally figure out what allowed Yi to cross the invisible wall between himself and others that Jiequan could not. At the very least, he would break the wall between himself and Yi - by any means necessary.

Jiequan wondered, in the end, what should he have done to keep holding on to the warm hand that saved him in the ruins of his childhood? What could he have done? He wanted too much, maybe- more than he could achieve as a weak, coddled child. Maybe his sin was that he could not stay a child forever. (That does not mean he ever really grew up.)

(Ji always saw him as that small, bright Xiao Quan who asked him for fairytales with sparkling eyes. That child simply wandered too far into his fantasies for Ji to find him before the end- not unlike another man Ji once knew, no-- but they cared for the two differently. He never did quite manage to make Xiao Quan see that.)

Bonus:

[writingdumpster]

goodbye kisses

pairing: Rhett Abbott x reader

warnings: none

summary: the morning after a bad fight with rhett you don’t give him his goodbye kiss.

word count: .8k

You woke up without Rhett beside you for the first time in years. The night before you had instructed him to sleep on the couch, but waking up without his arms around you still felt uncomfortable. You sighed.

The fight had been bad. The worst you ever had. And it was your first since being married. You had made it a year without having one, which you were informed by all your friends was a very long honeymoon period.

Earlier that night Rhett had gotten thrown off his bull in the first round. He had been immediately rushed off to the hospital. He was fine. The doctor said he had two broken ribs and a mild concussion. When you got home that night you had said you would stay home with him for the week, but Rhett had told you he didn’t need it. He said he would just keep working. You spent the next two hours fighting about how he didn’t take care of himself enough. It turned into a fight about how you didn’t support his career and then a fight about how bull riding was going to kill him.

“You always want me to stop! You’ve never supported me!” Rhett yelled.

“That’s not true and you know it!” You spit back. “I go to every single one of your competitions.”

“Because you’re scared! Not because you care about it!” Rhett yelled.

“Of course I’m scared, Rhett!” You shouted. “You could die and you never let me help you when you’re hurt!”

“That’s because I don’t need you!”

That had ended the fight. You had left the room without another word and slammed the bedroom door behind you.

You took a deep breath as you headed out of your bedroom for the kitchen. Rhett was standing at the counter with breakfast made as he waited for you. You stopped in the doorway when you saw him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” Rhett called hopefully. You stared at him for a moment.

“I don’t need breakfast. There’s always donuts in the teacher’s lounge on Fridays,” you said. Rhett’s whole posture deflated.

“I thought you were going to stay home with me,” he said.

“I thought you didn’t need me,” you responded. You gathered your things by the door. “Bye, Rhett.” You left without another word. Rhett stood in the kitchen in complete crisis.

You didn’t kiss him goodbye. That had never happened before. Rhett started rushing to clean up so he could go after you but immediately gasped in pain when he moved too fast. He almost started rushing again, but paused. He was doing exactly the thing you hated.

Rhett took his time getting ready, being sure not to stretch himself too far. Rhett called Royal to drop him off at your school. He waved at the receptionist and then made his way back to your classroom. He opened the door and looked at you, a small smile on his face. You looked at him and then at your class full of second graders. They were in the midst of a reading assignment. You reluctantly rose from your desk and stepped into the hall with him.

“What?” You asked in a whisper.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye,” Rhett said. You screwed your eyebrows together.

“Yeah, I know—”

“And I’m sorry,” Rhett continued. “And I need you. More than I need anything.” His hands came to rest gently on your hips. “I’m sorry,” he said again. You sighed.

“Me too,” you said, letting your hands fall against his chest. Rhett smiled.

“Please come home and take care of me,” Rhett requested.

“You don’t have to do it just to humor me,” you said.

“I’m not. It’s for me. I love it when you take care of me,” he said. “I just don’t always think I deserve it.” You gave him a sympathetic look before leaning up on your toes to kiss him. There was a small commotion behind the door. You looked over and saw a pair of eyes peeking through the crack in the door.

“Mrs. Abbott’s kissing the cowboy!” You heard a much too loud whisper. Rhett chuckled.

“Can you watch them while I go get someone to cover the class?” You asked. Rhett’s eyes went wide.

“You want me to walk into that room after that and let all those kids question me?” He asked.

“Yes,” you said. “It’ll be good practice for when we have ours.” Rhett beamed.

“Will making them be part of your caretaking?” He asked. You shook your head in disbelief.

“No,” you said with a smile. “You have two broken ribs.” Rhett groaned. “Don’t whine, you know I’m right.”

“Can I at least have the goodbye kiss you stole from me?” He asked. You giggled.

“You just got one,” you said.

“That was a makeup kiss,” Rhett said. “I want my goodbye kiss too.” You rolled your eyes before giving him a short peck. You started to release him to go find a substitute, but his hands stayed on your hips.

“You’re leaving me again,” Rhett said. “I get another goodbye kiss.”

[n3ptoonz]

Could you please write the reader waking up from a wet dream with Smoke? reader mumbles his name during it so it isn't that hard to tell what's happening and helps when you wake up after maybe... 😵‍💫 established relationship. I LOVE your stuff so much by the way every time you post it's Christmas for me.

christmas 😭😭😭 i love that analogy TYSM anon❤️💚

now...this is what i'm talkin about 😈😈 let's get it DONEE

'Love On The Brain'

Pairing: Royal Guard!Smoke/Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut, Explicit, service top!smoke, switch! smoke, gn reader, reader is a switch, wet dream, established/secret relationship, creampie, m!nipple play, cowgirl, prone, missionary, handjob, sphinx likes when men beg, dacryphilia, reader is like the heir in a primarily female tribe (very outworld-esque)(idk i just wanted to sound cool), barely proofread apologies for typos

Word count: 1.9k

To be the heir in a tribe that was ran by mostly powerful women, it was naturally a blessing to be in your position. Because here, gender didn't matter. First born = next in line for leading. Period.

However, your mother was no stranger to keeping men in their place. Most of the guards that did nothing but protect and serve were in fact men, especially ones that were chosen from clans with high status.

Your quarters, like your other siblings, were a bit far from the main part of the land, but that meant you had your own guard all to yourself--like everyone else. One man that was capable of just about anything, if not everything.

His name was foreign; that of a whole different region outside of your knowledge. What was it again? Ah, it was-

-

"Tomas-!" you choked out a whine as your eyes shut tightly. Tomas held one of your hands while the other was gripping your other hip, watching the stomach bulge appear with stars in his eyes as he had no shame going at a relentless pace.

This was the third time you came in one round. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it right. Who knows how long you've been going at it by now? Honestly, who cares. To basically have the shape of him molded inside you, time was the least of your concerns.

You were signaling that you were about to cum again by the slight grip you had on his hand while the other flew over your mouth. He suddenly stopped his movements and leaned forward to kiss the back of that same hand.

"I want to hear you. Can you do that for me?" he whispered. He said your name over and over in a sweet, gentle manner, as if he was trying to get your attention. What was once a hazy and muffled voice was becoming clearer every time he said your name. And as you opened your eyes-

-

You shot up in your bed and panted, shielding your eyes from the sun rays that assaulted your vision. Your breath stilled you turned to look to your side; Tomas was standing at the foot of your bed in position but a concerned look on his face--he was typically bad at hiding his emotions, it's an ongoing joke between you two.

"I heard you calling my name, are you alright?" he asked, a faint tint of blush betraying him. You were about to get up off the bed when you felt a sort of...sticky substance in your underwear. You froze in your spot before sheepishly looking up at him.

"I am, thank you...Could you, um..." you trailed off.

With these three words he has heard before, he's assuming you're about to ask him to leave so you can have your privacy. Being in a secret relationship with your own guard wasn't exactly all fun and games, he still took his job very seriously, but boy did he enjoy the thrill alone.

He had already made a move to leave the room when you hopped out of bed, remembering that feeling between your thighs as soon as you took a step. If there wasn't a bloom of even more concern on his face before, it's there now. He takes one look at how you were standing, and one look at your bed. Upon seeing a bit of a stain where you were just laying, he was no fool. He knew it exactly what that meant. From you repeatedly whispering his name in your sleep, to the slight jolts every few seconds...

"Did you...uh-"

"Tomas," you said as now stood in front of him with no intention to break eye contact. You looped your index finger around a piece of his armored chest plate and pulled him in for a short, but meaningful kiss. Eventually going back in for even shorter seconds and thirds. You felt like a starved bear woken up from hibernation, and you needed your fill.

"You are going to fuck me. And you will do it how I tell you to. Is that understood?" you whispered. The color red almost completely took over his entire face upon seeing this newly discovered hunger in your eyes, but he was more than happy to oblige by your commands. He did serve you, after all. Why not put it to good use?

The only sounds that could be heard was the bed shaking, skin slapping together, and your cries muffled by your pillow. The swiftness in which Tomas put you in the prone position and pinned you down with his body, he didn't even really need to use his hands for anything besides holding himself up.

"Look at you loosening up for me. Is this how the heir behaves?" he taunted. You gave him free rein to speak how ever he pleased. Your nails drug against the sheets and you panted as the room grew hotter and your skin felt prickly from the cold sweat.

The pure bliss of his long, thick dick dragging in and out of you and the contrast to what was once cold metal armor to his sweaty, warm muscular chest atop your back made you see stars. This was a thousand times better than your dream, honestly.

"Nothing to say?" he asked, slowly yet agonizingly pushing himself into you and bringing his movements to a halt. He was holding your hips down at the same time until a good amount of his weight engulfed you. The angle he was laying at had him brushing right against your g spot, but not enough to get you to cum in an instant.

"Tomas--!" you cried out, squirming and groaning underneath him. You couldn't see it, but Tomas himself had to pause before responding because he was getting overwhelmed. You felt so good around him, he almost moaned your name back.

"You feel...so fucking good wrapped around me..." he whispered. He didn't expect himself to say it out loud, but the cat's out the bag! He slowly shakily pulled out and flipped you onto your back, the sight of your slick mixed with his pre-cum leaking out of you made him dizzy.

Your face was flushed, eyes glossy, and chest heaving; he looked the same. Without second thought you pulled him close for a deep and passionate kiss, reaching your other hand between your legs to grab and pump him. He nearly got choked up mid-kiss. You smiled and chuckled against him as you could feel his hands grabbing for the sheets next to your head. His body was trembling with love and lust.

You continued to stroke him and made sure it was known he wasn't allowed to be inside you again...yet. And this? This...newfound dynamic of power, he loves it. He instinctively started thrusting his hips into your palm and wishing it was you.

He broke the kiss and started nipping at your neck, his shallow breaths and breathy whimpers all too familiar right in your ear. He knew it wouldn't be possible to mark you up the way he wants to, but that didn't really matter. Only he gets to be this close to you and he relished in that alone.

His breaths picking up meant he was close, but you weren't having that. Him coming before you? Especially if you haven't yet? Madness. Though, you knew he wasn't about that either.

You quickly angled him in front of your hole and pulled away right as he thrusted forward. The both of you groaned in pleasure at the sudden contract on both ends and a cold shiver washed over your bodies.

He couldn't help but cum instantly, but he was no punk. He just kept going at the same time you were being filled to the brim. The room couldn't be louder with his determined grunting and the sound of squelching coming from between your legs.

You came shortly after and dragged your nails down his biceps since he had you caged in. He had your back arched, seeing stars, and out of breath.

There must've been something about this morning air because neither of you felt like this was over. Or maybe you didn't want it to be...

You smiled as he rested his forehead against yours, giving him a quick kiss on the nose before pushing him off of you and crawling on top of him. You watched his gray eyes practically twinkle at the sight of you--spent but willing. But also the rays from the sun shining through your window.

One of your hands carefully wrapped around his neck while the other simply put his length back inside. Being on top of him now, you could feel his quick breaths and the slight bucking of his hips.

"No touching while I ride you. Understand?" you said, tone just above a whisper when you leaned in closer to him. He gulped and shyly nodded. He was determined to try his best not to, because he knew you'd be even more willing to punish him for it.

There was no more starting slow. You both wanted and needed to chase this high as fast as possible especially under these circumstances. You took turns having control, and you were going to make the most of it. You were already pumped full of his seed so who needs slow and sensual now?

Your body was kicked into overdrive as you took all of him again. You tried to keep a not so expressive attitude, but damn that was growing harder by the second. No pun intended.

Since there was a free hand that wasn't on his neck, you decided to try something new. You gently rubbed his nipple to see if he'd have a reaction. And boy DID he have a reaction.

"Fuck-" he cursed multiple times. His face contorting and hips bucking harder was all you needed to see. "Ah, don't stop, please." he whispered.

He had to keep balling his hands into fists so he wouldn't just grab your hips and fuck you til you cried again. "By the gods, I'm so close. Don't stop-" his own words interrupted by a combination of a gasp and a moan. You've never seen this side of him before. Even if you did have sex the amount of times that could be counted on one hand, you didn't expect he'd act like this. Of course, he's a sensitive and sentimental guy at heart even if he doesn't show it much outside of being alone with you.

Good thing you were also about to blow too. Would you believe me if I told you he was about to cry? Well, you should. Because he's doing so right now.

"Can I- Agh- Can I please touch you? I can't go on like this-" he begged. You denied him just to watch him cry some more. And as the tears poured from his eyes, you both came together. He wasn't sad or upset. Quite the opposite actually. Little did you know it was so fucking hot to him that you wouldn't give him what he wants right after he just had you pinned to the mattress and filled with his cum.

After you calmed yourselves down, cleaned up, and changed the sheets, you convinced him to take a bath with you and cuddled close to him. You didn't want him to go back to his post yet. It had been some time since either of you had gotten the time to yourselves to do something like this, clearly. You innocently sat in his lap while you two cleaned each other off--including the dried tears under his eyes.

And then you woke up.

Kidding! After your nice, hot bath, you pulled him close as you plopped down onto the fresh sheets just to hold him for longer...Thank the gods today was your off day.

a/n: HI...! XDXDXD COLLEGE WAS WHOOPING MY ASS, my bad y'all! i hope yall fw this bc deadass this person asked for this in fuckin january, i feel like a shitty author rn😭😭but we got it done 🙏🏾 idk when imma be able to focus on tumblr fics again, but hopefully it won't take as long like this did!

[wntrs0ldier]

An Offer II: Safe Haven · 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 5,3k warnings: typical mafia (dark themes, language, violence, etc.), a/n: if you see any mistake, please, close your eyes,,

series masterlist

series summary: The ride was bumpy, but in the end, you got your husband. Your marriage gave you protection, and your new husband shared with you his life, his Family, his wealth. His demons and his enemies. Only time can show whether it was worth it.

Although his scent had managed to wash off, you loved walking around in that soft, far too large robe of his. Leaving the bedroom – where you hadn't even slept an hour together, let alone the whole night – you put one over your shoulders and tied the belt. And, as you do every morning, you went to the kitchen, which, in practice, was your shared kitchen; except that not at the same time. You prepared the coffee, and with a mug in your hand headed to the living room; you leaned against the entrance frame and fixed your gaze on the couch, or rather on the person occupying it – Jerry. This time you remembered the name. You lifted the mug to your mouth, but your lips did not come into contact with the bitter, hot surface of the drink. 

Was there any limit to the amount of time you could miss someone who, given the short period of knowing them, shouldn't mean that much? And what could you be capable of to drown that feeling of abandonment?

A little more than a week was still missing and you could safely cross out the third month of Bucky's absence. This was not how you imagined the beginnings of your marriage, but you consoled yourself with the knowledge that it could have been much worse. On the other hand, it could also have been much better. To some extent, your life resembled the one you had led before your marriage and even before your father's death – you didn't have to worry about business; it was secure and had regained its former fluidity. Enough to calm Tony Stark down. You were able to concentrate mainly on your gallery, spend weekends with your friends or with Suzie. Everything went on with the old rhythm, with a few exceptions. You didn't date anymore, and turning down potential lovers came more easily to you. And you devoted Sunday afternoons and evenings to your new family – Winnifred would invite you to tea or dinner, and these activities became your marital duties. But you really felt more like a new purchase of the Barnes Family than a wife to Bucky – after all, you spent more time with them than with your husband.

But he still tried.

He called at least once every two, sometimes three days. You would have loved to call him every day, but you never did – you didn't want to disturb him, because you knew he was working hard. You heard how tired he was, so each time you asked him to get some sleep; you kept telling him that your day wasn't that interesting. But Bucky never relented – he claimed he liked listening to your voice.

Jerry twitched, opening his eyes, which automatically fell on you. For a split second, he seemed deathly terrified; you guessed that his mind sensed your gaze, and raised the alarm as a result. But Jerry was safe. At least for now.

“Did you sleep well?” You smiled slightly, perhaps a little meanly, then took a sip of coffee without dropping your gaze.

The young man immediately sat up and rubbed his face. “Oh God…” he gasped. “Don't tell Bucky. He’ll fucking murder me.”

“Don't worry. It can happen to anyone.”

“Has it happened to someone before me..?” he asked with hope.

You wrinkled your nose and shook your head, which made Jerry groan with dissatisfaction.

“Would you like some breakfast?” You raised your eyebrows.

“After something like that? No way, I'm out of here.”

You walked Jerry to the door.

“Please. I'm begging,” he said, almost hanging on the doorknob. “Don't tell Bucky. Don't tell anyone, because it will definitely get to him.”

You sighed heavily, holding back from rolling your eyes. It seemed to you that Jerry was exaggerating, but on the other hand he was white as a sheet, so you didn’t want to scare him more. “I won't tell anyone. I promise.”

“What..?” Connie stared at you with curiosity, and the fork on which she had scrupulously scooped one of each ingredient of her salad hung not far from her mouth.

As befits a wealthy wife abandoned by a husband absorbed in work, you had a lunch date with Connie and your two other friends, Victoria and Holly, who were close enough to you to know some of your secrets. As in the case of Connie, you didn't share with them all the details of your life, you didn't get them into the business you did, but they knew who you were. They also knew the character of your marriage; it was impossible to keep it a mystery when matters of the heart were an integral part of your conversations. And even if you could pretend that you and Bucky had something more in common – something by which people usually decided to take such a binding step as marriage – your girlfriends would have figured you out right away.

“Who’s Jerry?” Holly furrowed. 

You couldn't remember if she was there when you mentioned him for the first time. However, you didn't have a chance to dig up this information in your head – Victoria rushed to explain: “He's some sort of bodyguard. Is that right?” She glanced at you, and you nodded.

Some sort of bodyguard was a surprisingly accurate term for Jerry and the rest of the boys. Since Bucky was away from home and unable to look after your safety himself, he ordered his men to do so. With that, you got to know a handful of Bucky's most trusted soldiers, and every evening one of them sat in a car parked outside your apartment, watching the building and its surroundings. Every morning one of them drove you to work, in the afternoons they escorted you home or wherever you pleased. You were never alone. Even now, sipping wine in a fancy pub, you were under the watchful eye of one of them; he was sitting a few tables away and going over the menu for the fifth time, glancing in your direction from time to time. He took a seat at the other end of the room to avoid being noticeable, but your friends were fully aware of his presence. Besides, they weren't the only ones; he was quite a flashy item in a restaurant filled mostly with women dressed in pastels and beiges.

“Are you still okay with that? All that following?” Holly continued. 

“They don’t follow me.” You rolled your eyes, smiling lightly. It's not that you had been brainwashed into accepting the possessiveness or the desire to control your every move; you just understood what rules applied to your and Bucky's world. You also understood that your friends were not as aware, so your husband's security measures may have been deceptively similar to red flags. “Following someone tends to be done in secret from the person who is being followed, you know?” 

“What's up with Jerry?” Connie interrupted. “Did you sleep with him or not?”

“No, of course not,” you calmly denied. But instead of continuing to speak, you paused for a moment – a memory popped into your head; a memory of Bucky's prettily pink, parted lips as he savored your wet warmth. You swallowed hard, sinking your teeth into your lower lip. “He slept. On the couch. Alone.”

“A bodyguard should sleep on the job..?” Holly asked doubtfully.

“In theory, no. But whenever I was able to forget Jerry's presence somewhere around, I heard sneezing or sniffling.” You raised your eyebrows. “I was afraid that if I left him in the car overnight, he would faint from a fever or something. I invited him inside, or rather convinced him to come in, and he fell asleep on the couch. That's it.” You shrugged.

“You shouldn't have done that,” Victoria said, her forehead creased in worry. “You shouldn't invite strangers into your apartment. What if he would hurt you?”

“Uh, that's not exactly what bodyguards do.”

The rest of your lunch followed the pattern repeated at every meeting you've had for almost the last three months. Your girlfriends expressed their concern toward your relationship, and then smoothly moved on to other topics. This time a party you had little idea about. Not because they didn't include you; you just didn't hear a word. Absorbed in your own thoughts, you completely disconnected yourself from the place and the company. You reflected on the fact that you spent far more time with them, and even with the previously mentioned bodyguards, than with Bucky. It shouldn't have affected you on the scale it actually did – you were purely business partners who happened to have sex a few times. But all those things you promised each other before he left... 

On the one hand, they were somehow groundbreaking. On the other, they became blurred in this long separation. Besides…

Your eyes involuntarily rested on your hand. Despite being married, you still didn't have rings. You wore at least an engagement ring – an apparent sign of being taken, but Bucky? You couldn't be sure – away from home, away from New York, away from you – he wasn't taking advantage of the lack of a wedding band. Maybe he only called you in the evenings, drained, because his other life was consuming all his time and energy? You knew he couldn't be so vile to you, but maybe he was trying to protect you? Had he found someone in Italy and didn't want to break your heart? Maybe the bodyguards were not there to protect you, but to keep you from any potential surprise visit?

A sudden flash of sanity made you realize that you were becoming paranoid. You didn't have Bucky around; you couldn't look at him or talk to him freely, so you kept thinking about him. This, in turn, led you to newer and newer conclusions that you wouldn't normally even consider. Timothy got his way – he effectively punished you, because you were going through a living hell.

“Y/N? What’s wrong?”

You were so deep in your own thoughts that you didn't even know who had spoken to you. All three – Connie, Victoria and Holly – were looking at you.

“Hmm?” you muttered, raising your eyebrows questioningly, although you could hear perfectly well what they wanted to know. “Oh, it’s… It’s nothing.” You shook your head with the abashed smile of someone caught in the act. “It's just... I miss him. Very much,” you said in order to justify your drifting away. You just didn't tell the whole truth; you didn't intend to torment your friends with your fears, because these were taken from panic, not a rational perception of things. 

“Do you like him in that way?” Holly smiled provocatively. 

Before you could explain that you would probably miss each of them just as much during such a long separation, Victoria cut you off again: “This is so sweet…” She almost melted. “Maybe you're not telling us something? Maybe you are at the boyfriend-girlfriend phase? Things like this can happen when two people are close. Even in a not-for-real-marriage, right?” She looked around at your faces for some confirmation of her words.

“I would know if we were at that phase,” you said immediately. 

“Not necessarily. This phase is not always clear. Not all people ask directly about dating, like, you know, as a couple. Sometimes you just fall into it. Unconsciously and naturally.” Vicky shrugged.

A short silence settled over the table. You reached for your glass of wine, and, staring unseeingly at some random point, emptied the rest of the drink in slow sips.

“I'll see you this weekend?” you finally spoke.

“As always. But maybe you should invite Jerry this time?” Connie grinned with amusement, and you gently kicked her under the table.

“Are you okay?” Steve's voice filled the inside of the car.

“I won't throw up here, if that's what you're asking,” you answered, taking your eyes off the side window to look at him. Steve’s mouth curved into a slight smile. 

You doubted that picking you up from a nightclub was his ideal scenario for a Saturday night, but at least he didn't waste the whole evening babysitting you. Admittedly, he was up for it, but you managed to convince him to give you some freedom. You still didn't mind round-the-clock security, but you got the impression that your friends were starting to feel a little uncomfortable. You couldn't accept that they weren't able to relax and enjoy your girls’ night out, and if you had any power to do so, you decided to use it. In return, you promised Steve that – after the party – you would wait for him like a good girl you were, and let him drive you home without saying a word.

Your head was still buzzing from the pounding music and people shouting to each other, and you felt this unpleasant dry stickiness in your mouth. It wasn't the worst state you could get yourself into, because although you hoped to get rid of the annoying, uncomfortable thoughts, you didn't want to completely knock yourself out of consciousness.

You were haunted by the same problems; fueled by longing and the absence of Bucky, who could ease your doubts. Besides, for the past few days you couldn't push away what Victoria said – leaving aside your marriage, could you and Bucky have been more than that? Before he left, he behaved as if you were, but did he allow the possibility or did he do all this because he felt an obligation to act as a husband should? Moreover, you didn't even know why you felt the need to find out all this; after all, you weren't hoping for anything. Other than an inherent affection, a weakness, an incomprehensible attachment and a natural human desire, you had no deeper feelings for Bucky. So what was your problem?

Mindlessly, your eyes wandered to Steve again. Sometimes you would return in memories to Bucky's words; to the moment when he joked that he could recommend you to Steve – you wondered how your life would have turned out then. You would certainly have experienced a completely different dynamic, because while Bucky was patient with you, Steve exceeded all expectations. But unlike Bucky, he behaved a little too formally, politely in your company; as if he didn't allow himself to show any flaws. This, in turn, partly let you guess what Bucky meant when he said: ‘I'm not a guy you marry. Steve is.’ With the warmth, caring and calmness radiating from him, Steve was something of a last step – he just reassured you that he was the right, safe choice; that he would create a stable environment not only for his potential wife, but also for his children.

Bucky, on the other hand, oozed the aura of a charming, slightly unpredictable boyfriend; he made everything still exciting and fresh; he allowed the belief that you both still had enough room for mistakes.

You closed your eyes and let out a heavy breath. Steve glanced at you, raising his eyebrow questioningly. “Still not throwing up,” you stated. For a brief moment, you had an urge to bombard Steve with questions; you wanted to know if Bucky had ever been in a serious relationship; if he thought Bucky would last in one. But that would only deepen your paranoia; besides, you weren't convinced about the idea of getting to know Bucky through the eyes of others.

When the car stopped in front of the apartment building, you got out, grabbing your purse and the high heels you had taken off earlier. You intended to make your way to the apartment barefoot, because you couldn't even imagine putting on those uncomfortable shoes again.

“Oh, sorry. I left some glitter in your car,” you said, noticing shimmering specks from your dress on the seat. To be fair, you also had glitter in your hair and on your skin, so you thought you were equally victimized. “Well, a lot of glitter actually…” 

“Don’t worry about it.” Turning off the engine, Steve gave you a smile. 

“You don’t have to walk me to the door,” you asserted right away, seeing him getting ready to leave the vehicle. 

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. A security guard is sitting inside, there are also some cameras…” You shrugged. “I’ll be fine.” 

Steve didn't insist – he kept providing you with this illusory sense of freedom. So you said goodbye and headed to the entrance, having previously promised to text him as soon as you crossed the apartment threshold. Steve's car disappeared only when you got inside the building. On your way to the apartment, you were thinking mainly about the contents of the fridge; for the last few hours your stomach had been getting only alcohol and salty snacks in really small portions – so now you were craving something decent.

As you slid the key into the lock, it refused to turn – the door was open. A wave of uneasy heat immediately swept over you, your stomach dropped. For a second you wanted to go back downstairs; perhaps Steve wasn't so far away yet, you could call him and wait with the security guard. Or outside. Anywhere, but not there. At the same time, you tried to keep a cool head and think rationally – what if you simply forgot to lock the door? After all, such things could happen. But there was no room in your life for such incidents. Bucky had you watched for a reason. 

In the end, you decided to take possibly the stupidest, yet least dramatic step – you cautiously went inside. There was pitch darkness everywhere, which normally didn't scare you, but now you had no idea what was hiding in it. Too paralyzed by fear, you didn't even think to locate the light switch. You moved ahead – telling yourself repeatedly that it was probably just your paranoia, that you had actually forgotten to lock the door. If not, you had an open escape route – all you had to do was run down the corridor and get out of the apartment, then take the stairs, not the elevator.

Noticing a small red light smoldering in the darkness somewhere from the living room, you froze in stillness. Your body went numb, so unable to make any further movements, you stared at the spot. A recognizable rustling sound reached your ears, and immediately afterwards the vivid light of a lamp burst in the room, shining down on the silhouette sitting beneath it. Your tired, frightened, alcohol-soaked mind refused to believe that it was Bucky in the chair. Not only because, given the length of his absence, you hadn't considered his return in the nearest days – he also looked a little different than you remembered. The first thing that caught your eye was his thick beard; technically, it covered half of his face. Still, you could easily see his mouth stretched in a lazy, amused smile. His hair also got a little longer, and he looked even bigger, even more beefy, but these changes were not so drastic – you picked them up because you knew Bucky's body very well.

He let out a puff of smoke from between his lips, then put out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray placed on the armrest. “Hi,” Bucky spoke, his voice a bit muffled by the smoke coming out of his nostrils. 

All negative feelings and real concerns were gone, but your heart was still racing like crazy. However, you weren't sure if it was due to the fear slowly leaving your body or at the sight of Bucky. You wanted to feel happy; you wanted to be able to get excited about the much anticipated return; you wanted to throw your arms around his neck, but in reality you felt really weak – on the verge of passing out. You dropped your shoes and purse on the floor, and rested your trembling hand on the doorframe.

“I scared you, huh?” He slightly tilted his head to the side.

“Yes,” you replied quietly; your voice still didn't feel steady enough, and your throat remained painfully tight.

“Good. You'll remember to take someone with you next time.” Bucky sounded strict and lecturing; as if he was about to bend you over his knee. 

You watched each other – you looked at him a little warily, not sure where you were really at, what you should say or do, and Bucky was sizing you up in no rush; he studied closely your skimpy, not very covering dress with a deep neckline.

“Where were you?” There was no hint of possessiveness, jealousy or anger in his voice; only pure curiosity. Just as during your phone conversations over the past months, he wanted to know about your day; he wanted to know everything. He could have asked his people, but he trusted you to tell him the whole truth.

“At the club. With my girls.” 

“Were there any guys..?”

You nodded, not taking your eyes off him. “As it is in clubs.” You shrugged. “Full of guys.”

“Poor fellas. Wish I could have seen their faces when they realized all they could do was look at the prettiest girl in all of New York.” Some boyish delight surfaced in his smile, and a pleasant warmth spread over your body. Why would he say all these things if there was any chasm between you? There was no chasm.

He didn't seem impatient, but watched you with gentle anticipation, and soon patted his thigh in an inviting manner. Without a second thought, you moved from your spot and finally straddled him. In all this longing, you forgot how good it felt to be surrounded by the warmth of his body, his scent; how much your body fitted into his, as his thighs felt like the most comfortable place in the world.

“I was kind of hoping you would be happy to see me.” Bucky winced barely noticeably. “Is this about me scaring you? I'm sorry,” he said with remorse, although just a moment earlier he was eager to teach you a lesson. He placed a tender kiss on your cleavage, and your skin burned in that spot. 

“I am happy,” you replied, smiling softly. You couldn't let him think otherwise. “I just-”

You wanted to confess all your fears to him, because you knew he would either confirm or get rid of them. But when Bucky lifted one of his hands to your face for a purpose you had no chance to know, your eyes caught the movement and registered something else. You quickly grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand closer to get a good look at it. Bucky was wearing a wedding ring. And it appeared that he didn't put it on on the plane or right after he arrived; he must have already worn it in Italy, because when the ring slid a little higher, you noticed a pale, untouched by the sun mark that stood out on his tanned hand. 

“Got one for you, too.” Bucky smiled with satisfaction, but that gesture was sprinkled with a bit of caution. “And a few other things. But first, I'd rather hear what’s bothering you.”

You knew you should tell him; after all, a couple months earlier you yourself had made it clear to him that you needed to speak your minds more. But you didn't want to ruin the peaceful atmosphere. You were both too tired for this conversation. Besides, with or without explanations, you were no longer worried about your relationship – Bucky was here. Right by your side. And there was no sign that he was about to break your heart; unless he was about to crush it with affection.

“Nothing is bothering me,” you claimed with another tender smile, hoping that was enough to distract him from further attempts to get the truth out of you. “You surprised me. I thought I would be able to get ready for you coming, but instead, I'm a mess. A little bit drunk, sticky mess,” you said, which came easily, because you weren't actually lying; you imagined the conditions under which you would celebrate Bucky's return a little differently. Even with all your worries. “I thought it would be more, I don't know,” you shrugged, “perfect maybe..?”

Bucky seemed to accept this version. Perhaps because – considering his exhaustion – you produced far too many words for him to process. “The next time will be more perfect.” The smile lingering on his lips took on a lazy expression. 

You shook your head at his words. “There will be no next time, not in the near future,” you said with conviction, as if his unconventional schedule depended on you. “You're not going anywhere, because I'm not letting you.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “In that case, I can go out and come in again.”

“Alright, but you'll have to wait until I hang the banner and inflate balloons.” You raised your eyebrows. The lightness and playfulness surrounding you made you forget the past months. Your concerns and insecurities blurred in the way Bucky looked at you. “Now, show me what you brought me,” you added with theatrical excitement. 

“You little materialist…” Shaking his head with just as exaggerated disapproval, Bucky reached outside the chair and grabbed a paper bag. He placed it between your bodies, but you had no pressing need to look inside it. Instead, you watched Bucky almost with fascination; his movements as he slid his hand into the bag. When he pulled it out, his fingers were embracing a small, velour box. Having taken the object carefully, you opened it; the ring Bucky mentioned was waiting inside – a little narrower than the one he wore, but otherwise looked basically identical. “May I?” His gentle tone immediately caught your attention. Without thinking, you turned the box toward him; he pulled out the ring, grabbed your wrist gently to stabilize your hand, and slid the ring onto your finger. 

You stared at it, and when you lifted your gaze back to Bucky's face, you caught his eyes stuck on you. “Thank you,” you whispered. 

“It's just a little something I should have taken care of much sooner, huh?” he said, and the bag rustled again. Your lips parted in surprise and amazement when this time he took out a scented candle. He laughed softly as you grasped it right away, almost snatching it out of his hands; you guessed from its size and neat, minimalist label that it was one of the more expensive ones. 

“You remembered…” Still stunned that he had bought something with you in mind; something almost personalized, you glanced at him, but quickly returned your eyes to the tag. "Tuscan Dream of the Sun..." you read out loud, raising an eyebrow. You opened the lid and brought the candle to your nose.

“Is this how you imagined a Tuscan dream of the sun?” Bucky furrowed his forehead. In response, you moved the candle closer to his face. “I smelled it earlier,” he protested, nevertheless, he inhaled the scent instinctively. “I'm not sure what dreams of the sun smell like, but this smells like oranges. And vanilla.”

“Ohh, right,” you replied, enlightened by the answer you were looking for. “You're right…” You pulled the bag in your direction to put the candle back in it. In the process, you spotted another velour box. “Did you buy another ring? For your mistress?” you asked provocatively, but not angrily. 

“Mhm.” Bucky nodded with a sly, lazy smile resting on his lips. “You can take a peek. Tell if she will like it.” 

So you reached for the box – a little bigger, flatter than the previous one – and opened it. To your eyes appeared a necklace – a thin, delicate chain with a gemstone in a light, icy shade of blue. 

“And?” Bucky asked softly. “Does she like it?”

Without taking your gaze off the necklace, you nodded. “It's really pretty,” you answered in a hushed voice and looked at Bucky. “What's the occasion?”

“No occasion. It's just a gift. So I can keep an eye on you.” He shrugged gently, lifting the corner of his mouth in a not particularly enthusiastic expression. Only then did you realize what the color of the stone reminded you of – Bucky's irises.

For a brief moment he said nothing more, watching you put on the necklace; how you fastened it in front of your face and then turned the lock back, making the pendant rest on your neckline. 

“I'm sorry,” he spoke in a more serious tone. His hand slid over your bare calf, and combined with the contrite, even pained expression on his face, the gesture seemed extremely tender to you. “For not being here. You agreed to marry me, and then I left you alone. For so fucking long-”

“Hey.” You put your hands on his cheeks, casting a determined look on his helpless eyes. “You had no choice. Okay?” In response, Bucky nodded barely noticeably. “It was hard for me, that's true. But the fault doesn't lie with you. It never even crossed my mind,” you stated firmly. You chose to ignore the fact that a bunch of other, more or less disturbing things popped into your head while he was gone. “And I'm not saying this because I'm your wife, and it's my job to support your every decision. I'm saying this because you didn't do anything wrong. I'm saying it because I understand.”

He turned his gaze away and chewed on his bottom lip nervously. There was still a look of worry on his face telling you that Bucky didn't quite believe your words. He was completely different when you found him in the apartment, and you didn't know what had happened during those several minutes. Maybe he remembered all the responsibility and effort that comes with being a husband? Whatever it was, it spread in his mind like a poison you didn't know the cure for. You couldn't get into his mind, and he didn't want to make his thoughts available to you in any other way. Or, perhaps, after all, he sensed that there was something you didn't want to tell him, and he returned the favor?

Despite your slight resignation, you plastered a weak smile on your face and tucked a strand of Bucky's hair behind his ear. He closed his eyes, accepting this tender gesture; absorbing its warmth. “You’re tired,” you remarked. “You should go to bed-” You rose gently with the intention of getting off his thighs, but Bucky's hands quickly found their way to your hips; he held you down, pressing you back against his body. He gazed at you again, a little calmer this time, and with a visible exhaustion that you were absolutely right about. 

He reached up to touch your cheek, his fingers slipped into your hair. He pulled you in carefully, then pressed your lips together in a delicate kiss; as if testing whether you still accepted his mouth on yours. When, without much thought, you welcomed and reciprocated the kiss, he slipped his tongue into your mouth – he remembered your taste, and when he realized how much he loved it, he let out a low grunt. Pleasant warmth spread throughout your body in a devastating wave – it almost completely washed away any barriers.

He soon pulled away from you. “You are tired, too. And a little drunk, right?” He asked, studying your face intently. 

You nodded, not intending to deny it. Bucky drew you to him again; this time he placed a tender kiss on your forehead. You dropped your eyelids, feeling a peace spreading throughout you. He may not have been your boyfriend, or your not-for-real-husband, but he was your home, your safe haven.

a/n: feel free to share your thoughts, they are more than welcomed ����

taglist: @goldensunflowe-r @nefri-black @vickie5446 @learisa @sjsmith56 @aya-fay @hhiggs @wishingwell-2 @buckysgirl01 @emily-roberts @prettylittlepluviophile @leaaa008 @itvy5601 @melsunshine @pattiemac1 @marvel-fandom23 @rabbitrabbit12321 @xsecretsirenx @heyyitsreign @xhollycowx @samfreakingwinchester @thrnlvr @samjuarezzz @loustan90 @kandis-mom @abaker74 @gabshouse @casa-boiardi @globetrotter28 @fand0mskullfa1ry @iateall-yourcookies @swordofawriter @theroyalmanatee @midnightvitality

[ciaradream8]

Where Are You? (Part 2)

A/N: So I'm still upset with Zayne for not coming home when midnight hit during new years and before that (He rarely showed up at the cafe and when he did he was on his laptop the whole time). So I'm still letting out feelings and the new year is not being kind to me in RL as well. Just needed to vent in my own way so I made a part 2. I know I know those who commented wanted a better outcome and I PROMISE there will be happy ending. It's just going to take a few parts to get there. Please be patient with me. I didn't plan on making this more than 2 parts it just happened. I just went with the flow. I didn't really proofread this either so I'm sorry for the terrible writing. Like I said I was just venting in my own way.

Warnings: Angst (with a bit of comfort from Tara until later)

Words: 1.5K

If this is your first time reading this I suggest going to the first part:

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“Did you have a good new year’s?” Tara asked as she took a bite of her lunch.

“Yeah.” I replied, giving her a small smile. She put her fork down and gave me a look.

“What happened? You don’t look like someone who celebrated and is excited for the new year.” she frowned.

I sighed. After sending that text to Zayne he still had not replied. It’s been a couple of days. All I could see was that he read it, but he didn’t do anything beyond that point. I just felt worse after that. Everywhere I looked something reminded me of him. It didn’t help that Linkon was snowing. Even if someone mentioned snow he would just pop in my head and wouldn’t leave my mind for a long period of time. I didn’t want to tell Tara what happened for two reasons: I didn’t want to worry her and hearing it from my own mouth would make me cry again.

“I…I rather not talk about it.” I spoke up after a minute of silence. Tara opened her mouth, but nothing came out. It was strange. She normally would try to pry things open, but it appeared she noticed that I was feeling at my lowest. I had my downs, but this was by far the worst I have ever felt. Things have been going wrong since the Zayne situation happened: my packages went to the wrong address, my takeout orders have been way off, my reports had errors despite me double checking them, and more. Why was this happening? They didn’t involve Zayne yet after my breakup text things have been consistently going wrong.

“Okay. I won’t force you, but at least let me do a new year reading for you! It might help!” Tara offered.

“I…I don’t know.” I hesitated.

“Please? Pretty please?” She gave me her puppy eyes.

I gave a small laugh, “Okay. Go ahead.” To be honest, I was scared. Tara’s readings have usually been on point. Let’s see how terrible my year will be. I thought to myself. I watch Tara take out her cards with excitement after setting aside her lunch. She proceeds to lay out her cards on the table while I take another small bite of my lunch. After she finishes she puts her index finger to her chin and analyzes the cards. My heart rate speeds up due to nerves, but I try to quell it down and prepare myself for a negative year. Next thing I see from her face is a smile.

“You’re going to be fine, (Y/N). The beginning of the year is sometimes rough for everyone. I can see you were let down by someone for a while, but they have their reasons. I know. I know it’s no excuse and I can see you’re going to give them a fight. This special person of yours is willing to fight to win your heart again. No matter how long it takes. This year won’t be bad for you at all. I promise.” Tara placed her hand over her heart.

“Tara…you know who this special person is…” I sighed.

“I know. But I also know saying his name will hurt you more with the way you’re feeling now, right?”

“Thanks for not saying it.” I smiled.

“Of course! What are friends for? Let me read the rest.”

According to Tara, my career is still going to skyrocket along with my luck. I just had to get through a rough patch for the time being. I hated that. Luckily she said that it was for a very short time and that soon things will fall into place, but at the end of the day I made the choices in my life. Even though I didn’t tell her exactly what happened, she made me feel better.

3 Days Later

Mornings suck. I like being a hunter, but the only complaint I have is that we’re supposed to report for duty in the morning. I grabbed my phone to check the time and nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of what I saw on my screen.

A text message from Zayne.

He’s sending me a message NOW? Why? Wait. Should I have blocked him? But I can’t since he’s my primary physician. Maybe I can call Akso Hospital to see if I can switch. The less I see him the better. I thought to myself while I unlocked my phone to see what he sent. There was no explanation. Just one question:

Can we talk?

That was it. I slapped my forehead and laughed a bit. Was this man serious? This was the last thing I wanted to do. What if Tara was wrong in her reading? Zayne doesn’t want me. He probably got tired of me for all I know. “Think, (Y/N). Think. This is a bad idea. You’ll go crawling to him after the pain he put you through.” I shook my head. The pain of wanting to see him and being disappointed in him were fighting against each other. I needed to think with my head this time. “It’s fine. I can go on without him. I don’t need…I don’t need…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. I proceeded to cry in bed again while I clutched onto my phone.

After a good cry I decided not to answer. He never answered my texts so why should I? I don’t care if it was childish. I had the right to be like this since he was the one so busy with work that he ignored me, got annoyed with me when I tried to get him to pay attention, and ignored my messages and missed out on our celebration for the new year and first year anniversary. I’m a big girl who can live without him just fine.

“Hunters. This year is off to a slow start, but that doesn’t mean we have other things to take care of. Such as your physical.” Jenna announced and everyone groaned. “It is necessary that we have all these medical appointments to ensure that your body is doing well to keep going. Being a hunter is a big responsibility. It is my hope that one day that all wanderers are gone for good and that the city won’t need hunters anymore. That the world will no longer have to fear wanderers invading their home and we can live a peaceful life. We got a taste of that these past few weeks. Unfortunately, they are not gone. That is where you come in. Maintaining a healthy body and mind is necessary for jobs like these. You may have become strong in more ways than one, but at the end of the day we are human. We have our vulnerable side too and that’s okay. Your physical must be done by the end of the month and I will receive your medical report from your doctor.”

“Yes, Captain!” We all shouted.

“Good. All of you get back to work.” Jenna said before walking away. The moment we couldn't see Jenna’s silhouette Tara pulled me to the side.

“Are you going to be okay with that?” Tara asked with a worried look on her face.

“Honestly?” I bit my lip and shook my head. “Maybe I can switch doctors or have one of the doctors do it for me?”

“Do you really want to switch doctors?”

I looked to the side, “It doesn’t matter. It’s probably best.”

“(Y/N)...”

“We got weekly reports to do. We better get started on those.” I cut her off.

After finishing work and leaving the Hunter’s Association I saw that there was heavy rain. My remaining coworkers who stayed overtime with me were frustrated since the weather report didn’t mention anything about rain tonight. I groaned.

“Just my luck. I didn’t bring my raincoat or a thick jacket. Tara…I’m probably the first person whose reading is wrong.” I walked to the parking lot to get my motorcycle, but when I tried to turn it on, a weird nose spurted out. “Are you kidding me?!” I tried to turn it on again, but next thing I knew a bit of smoke came out. I am so close to screaming. I took a deep breath to try and calm down, but with everything falling apart it was becoming difficult. I walked out of the parking lot and got my phone out to call a taxi only to see my phone was dead. That was the last straw. I threw my phone as far as I could as I screamed.

“CAN THIS DAY GET ANY WORSE?!” I looked up while the rain poured. “I JUST WANT SOMETHING TO GO RIGHT? JUST ONCE. A SIGN OR SOMETHING WOULD BE NICE DAMN IT!” Tears began to roll down my cheeks while I panted. I heard footsteps behind me. I didn’t bother turning around, thinking it was a stranger who thought I was nuts. But it wasn’t a stranger.

“(Y/N).”

Impossible. I thought. I slowly turned around to face the person I was hoping not to see. He wore his black knitted shirt, dark gray coat and slacks. He held up his large, black umbrella above him.

“Zayne?”

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A/N: Thank you for letting me let things out. This year is already off to a rough start honestly, but at least it's giving me inspiration to write stuff like this? I'll probably just write whatever I want to write unless you guys have requests. I do know more than Love and Deepspace so if you're curious what more I can do you can ask and I will answer yes or no. Again I promise this will have a happy ending! I am just salty with Zayne hahaha