#and the search for something that truly deserves to hold that title. the title of comfort; certainty; reliability; safety.

[trainingdummyrabbit]

about 5 seconds from spinning an entire barely-genre-adjacent au just because ikeep thinking abt Characters too hard

anyway angela and roland on the worlds longest, shittiest road trip to Nowhere

[yuujispinkhair]

Mine

Megumi loves you. He loves you so much that he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. But past experiences taught him that everyone always ends up leaving him. He cannot let this happen. He will make sure the two of you get your happy ever after!

Halloween Masterlist 2023

This story is my contribution to @nagumoan 's Dance with the Dead Collab. Thank you so much for organizing this lovely Halloween event, Loni!!

Pairing: Megumi x Reader (female) Genre: Yandere Romance, smut Word Count: 9k Warnings: 18+, dark content, yandere Megumi, unhealthy relationship dynamics, possessiveness, murder (Megumi kills someone, but it's not Reader!!), smut, manipulation, gaslighting, baby trapping, breeding, pregnancy. All characters are of age. This story is 18+. Minors don't interact.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

The same word keeps repeating over and over again in Megumi's mind as he looks at you lying in his lap. So beautiful. So perfect to him. You look up at him, a small smile playing around your lips, and Megumi's heart throbs.

He smiles back at you while his long fingers pet your hair. His dark blue eyes gaze deeply into yours, letting himself drown in your eyes, in your love, in your trust. You are his. His wife, his lover, his everything. You belong to him, and he belongs to you.

Mine.

Megumi likes that word. It holds a special power. Because what is love if not possessiveness?

If you truly love someone, you should give yourself to them fully. You should commit yourself to them. True love is only true love if it lasts forever. It's the only kind of love Megumi can accept. Everything else is just a lie.

Megumi doesn't think he is a good man.

He believes there is something flawed about his existence. An inadequacy. It lives in his bones, in his blood, in his soul, filling every fiber of his being.

He grew up thinking that there must be something wrong with him. Why else would his father have left him? It must have been because Megumi was lacking something. Because he was not enough.

He always thought he was undeserving of love. That he was cursed to spend his life in the shadows, rejected and lonely.

Until you came into his life and filled his darkness with your light. You showed him another world, another life. A life full of love and affection. It is safe to say he adored you right from the start.

You didn't let him scare you off with his aloof act, with his sarcasm and eye-rolling and rude comments. You saw beneath that act. You refused to let him push you away. You just smiled even brighter at him, took his hand, and pulled him into your world of laughter and warmth and love.

But the problem with stepping into the light is that you don't want to return to the dark afterward. At least, that's how it is for Megumi. You changed him in a devastating way. You gave him everything but also burdened him with the risk of losing everything.

Ever since the day you came into his life, Megumi has been working on keeping you there.

He put a huge diamond ring on your finger after only one year, staking his claim, giving you a promise, and asking for a promise from you in return.

Megumi doesn't do anything less than forever. Lifelong devotion, lifelong commitment. That's what he offers you and what he needs in return. His dark blue eyes searched for your reassurance when he knelt before you, holding your hand gently but firmly in his, offering you all of him. His life, his heart, his loyalty until the end.

He liked what he saw in your eyes. The love and warmth in them had become his everything. When you said yes and became his wife, Megumi knew he would do anything for you and for this love the two of you shared.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good man in general, but he tries his very best for you. He wants to be good for you. He wants to be the man you seem to see in him.

There is something religious about the way he adores you. There never was a God in Megumi's life. No one deserved that title after what life had thrown at him since he was little. But you, you are godly to him.

And Megumi is dedicated to worshiping you like a Goddess. He is dedicated to offering sacrifices at the foot of your altar. He is committed to protecting you, to care for you, to cherish you. To kneel before you, his pretty face pressed against your wet cunt, his strong hands caressing every inch of your skin, his soft lips kissing you, loving you, worshipping your body.

He is there to make your life easier with an endless row of little acts of service, one after the other. Driving you everywhere, preparing a hot bath for you after work, buying your favorite snacks, giving you backrubs and orgasms. Making sure to catalog all of your reactions to his touches so he learns how to fuck you the right way. The way that makes your eyes roll back and cling desperately to him, moaning how good he makes you feel.

Megumi thinks he isn't a good person, but he is a good husband. Maybe not everything about him is flawed. Maybe there is something that's worthy of love. Because that's what you tell him when you cup his face with both your soft hands and smile at him,

"Oh, Megumi, you're doing it again. I can literally see how you are overthinking. Don't worry that much, darling. Don't make everything so hard for yourself. I love you, Megumi. You're the best husband I could ever wish for."

He huffs softly, but a gentle smile lights up his face as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you against his tall, lean-muscled body. He rests his chin on the top of your head, loving how your breathing syncs with his as you snuggle against him.

"I love you too."

And yet, even as he says them, Megumi knows that the words alone aren't enough to convey his feelings for you. But he hopes he can show you how much he loves you.

Fear is a part of Megumi. It was put into him at a young age when the people who were supposed to love him and care for him left him. A mother who died too soon. A father who went to get cigarettes and never returned. A long row of different foster families who only endured little Megumi's grumpy nature and his outbursts of violence for so long before they dropped him. An older sister who did her best to love him and help him, only to get into an accident that made her fall into a coma, leaving an angry, lost, and scared teenage Megumi behind.

It taught Megumi early on that there is nothing in life he can rely on. It taught him that everyone would leave him eventually. It convinced him that some cruel fate was always walking in the shadows beside him, always waiting to dig its claws into Megumi and drown him in loneliness again.

Your light has chased away most of that darkness that haunts Megumi, but a part of it will always remain.

It flares alive when Megumi sees the way your eyes sparkle when your favorite idol appears on the TV screen. When he sees you mouth the lyrics to that guy's song, and you have that little smile on your face and sway your hips gently to the music. A song about love. Do you think about Megumi when you hear it? Or do you imagine a romance with the singer?

It makes Megumi shove the limited edition of the new album you brought home into the trash when you are at work the next day and act innocent when you search feverishly for it. He tells you that he saw it just yesterday evening lying on top of the books you wanted to return to the library after work today. You might have accidentally put it in the bag, and it must have slipped out while you were at the library. You know how clumsy you can be. But it's ok, don't worry about it. He loves you, and now let him kiss you so you forget about that CD!

The darkness flares alive when Megumi sees you carefully applying your makeup and styling your hair in the morning before work. Why do you feel the need to make yourself look so pretty for your coworkers? You shouldn't care about what they think of you.

"Darling, you've already taken up the bathroom for twenty minutes."

He walks up behind you and slings his arms around your waist, long fingers sprawling possessively over your hips as he leans down to kiss your neck. He gets a whiff of your perfume, the sexy one, the one he always associates with you under him, moaning his name and looking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes as your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders and he turns his head to kiss your ankle and breathe in the soft traces of perfume.

Cold fear forms a knot in his stomach, and his fingers tighten on your body.

"You dress up like you are going on a date... It's only work. Don't waste so much time on your makeup. Join me on a morning walk instead. Hm? What do you say, my love? The dogs would be happy too if you join us."

He sounds calm, a bit amused even. Carefully constructed criticism, so it won't make you think he is jealous. Megumi knows jealousy is a reason for many relationship problems and breakups. So, he is careful to hide his genuine emotions. He is careful to veil his true intentions behind this mask of playful teasing.

You laugh softly and lift your head to look at him in the mirror. Your small hands land on Megumi's and interlace your fingers with his.

"Aww baby, does that mean you think I look pretty?"

You playfully bat your eyelashes at him in the mirror, and Megumi's lips lift in a soft smile.

"Of course I do. My wife always looks beautiful."

He loves the feeling of your wedding ring pressing against the matching ring on his finger. He trails more kisses down your neck with growing urgency. Maybe he should show you how much he treasures you. Maybe he should remind you who you belong to. Maybe if he fucks you good enough, he will be the only one on your mind while you're at work.

His hands slip under your skirt, pushing it up as he watches you in the mirror, blue eyes looking intently as he brushes his long fingers slowly over your panty-clad pussy, rubbing your clit tenderly through the thin fabric.

He can see your lashes flutter, can see the way your lips fall open, even as a weak complaint leaves them,

"Megumi... not now. I will be late for work..."

But Megumi knows what he's doing, and soon your resolve breaks, and you are putty in his hands, leaning against him as he kisses and caresses you. Whining softly as he pushes your panties to the side and rubs your swollen wet clit in tender circles, spreading your creamy wetness over your silky folds, driving you crazy with his tender touches.

Your hands grab the sink tightly when he pushes two long fingers into your wet creamy heat, fucking you slowly with them until you are on the brink of cumming all over his hand.

His heart feels so full, and he can't help but smile when you tremble in his arms and whine and moan, begging him to please fuck you for real.

You cling desperately to him when he lifts you up and carries you back to the bedroom. You moan his name needily when he fucks you hard into the mattress, in a mating press, pressing your knees to your chest so he can go extra deep, rolling his hips slowly against yours, basking in the sounds of your wet pussy, taking his cock. Feeling light-headed upon hearing the noises you make for him, the soft mewls and loud moans.

He tells you to look at him, so he can get the reassurance of seeing the pleasure on your face and the love in your eyes when you cum for him, pussy clenching greedily around him, milking his cock as if you never want to let him go again.

He groans in satisfaction, eyes finally closing when he feels his orgasm wash over him, his cock twitching and spilling his seed deep inside you.

Afterward, Megumi helps you put on your panties again, pulling them up, even as you complain,

"W...wait, baby. I have to wash up first."

His blue eyes are stern when he looks at you and shakes his head.

"No, go like that. I want you to be my good girl and walk around all day with my cum leaking out of your pretty pussy. Think about me anytime you feel it. Think about how much I love you, darling. And once you come back home, I will fill you up again. Will you do that for me? Will you be my good girl?"

You bite your lip and grin at him, obviously turned on by his words,

"Ok, sir. I'll be your good girl."

You let him pull up your panties again and fix your skirt for you, moaning when he kisses your cheek and praises you for being so good for him.

Megumi feels much more at ease again when he drops you at work. You kiss him goodbye a bit longer and deeper than necessary, your tongue flicking against his, whispering against his lips before you part from him,

"That was such a hot morning, baby."

He feels calm and reassured when he watches you leave the car and slowly walk towards the entrance of the large building you work in. He even sings along to the music playing on the radio on the drive home and hums a little tune to himself when he takes the dogs for a walk in the park before he leaves for work.

Megumi knows he isn't a good man, but he can't help it.

There is this wolf inside him who watches with cold, narrowed eyes as you say goodbye to your coworker before you jog over to where Megumi is waiting in the parked car for you.

There is this beast inside him that digs its claws into his heart and whispers all those hurtful things into his ear.

Didn't you smile at your coworker a bit too brightly? Didn't you stand a bit too close to him? Didn't you laugh a bit too loud at whatever he said?

Megumi grits his teeth, silently growling at the wolf to shut up and fuck off.

Leave me alone! She loves me. She is my wife.

But the wolf whispers back,

But how long will she be your wife? How long before she finds someone better?

Megumi huffs and hits the steering wheel before he grabs it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He closes his eyes and counts to ten, trying to calm his breathing.

Just in time before you yank open the passenger seat door and greet him with a broad smile and a loud,

"Heyyy, baby!"

You climb into the seat and lean over to greet him with a sweet kiss on his cheek.

Megumi can't help but reach out to put a hand on the back of your neck, elegant long fingers caressing your skin as he pulls you closer to kiss you on the mouth, a deep possessive kiss, letting you know who you belong to. Hoping that your coworker sees it.

But when he pulls away, Megumi's mask is perfectly in place. Calm, aloof, a soft smile lighting up his pretty face, blue eyes looking deeply into yours as he asks you innocently,

"How was work, sweetheart?"

You sigh and tell him about boring meetings and a workload that is much too high to handle.

He fucks you a bit harder that night, handles you a bit rougher. Harder thrusts, firmer touches. His strong hands capture your wrists, wrap tightly around them, and fix them above your head while Megumi's tall, lean-muscled body presses you down onto the mattress. His face is buried in your neck, groaning softly, whimpering your name and how much he loves you.

He sees the bruises on your wrists at breakfast the next morning, feeling guilt wash over him. Guilt that makes him hug you gently and make your coffee extra good. He breathes tender kisses on your wrists, long black lashes flutter around his dark blue eyes, his voice is low, full of regret,

"It seems I was a bit too rough last night. I am so sorry, darling."

"It's fine, Megumi, please don't worry, baby. I like it when you get so passionate."

Megumi feels the iron grip around his heart loosen. He smiles softly into your hair and kisses the top of your head, wrapping a strong arm around you and hugging you. He likes that you are so much smaller than he is, the way your face rests against his toned chest. The way you snuggle into his strong arms, sighing happily when Megumi hugs you even tighter. The way you seek the safety of his arms and the warmth of his body. The way you trust him so completely.

When Megumi pulls away, he takes your left hand and brings it to his lips to place a lingering kiss on the large sparkling diamond on your wedding ring.

Mine.

"And then she threw her stuff into a suitcase and just left!"

Your eyes are sparkling excitedly, hands gesturing wildly as you sit across from Megumi at the dinner table, apparently finding great joy in re-telling the newest drama in your friend group.

Megumi doesn't share your excitement. On the contrary, his blood is rushing loudly in his ears. He feels sick. His hand is clutching the steak knife so tightly that it hurts.

He lifts his gaze from the red juices of the medium rare meat building a little sea on the white plate. His blue eyes narrow as he fixes you with a frown,

"And she just threw her marriage away? How long have they been together? Seven years? And she just left him?"

"Megumi! Didn't you listen? He forgot her birthday! And he spent more and more time playing his online games instead of doing things with her! She was frustrated!"

And that was enough to end a marriage?

Megumi gulps hard.

Well, that's how the world ticks, right? That's how people tick. They say they love you, but then they just leave. Promises mean nothing. Words mean nothing. They get forgotten, they get twisted, they get taken back.

Seven years.

Your friend had been with her husband for seven years, and she left him because of minor, unimportant things. Instead of fighting for her love, instead of trying to talk to him and fix things, she picked the easy way and left. Just like the way most people do nowadays.

All those breakups, all those divorces. All those single parents and abandoned kids. All the tabloids are full of celebrities who split up after decades of presenting themselves as the happiest couple ever.

How is Megumi still supposed to trust in love? In you? In your feelings for him?

What if your friends put something into your head? What if one of them voices their doubt about Megumi being good enough for you? What if? What if they give you some crazy idea about looking for someone else who is not as flawed as him?

They already advocate giving up on your partner and acting as if being selfish and throwing relationships away is something one should be proud of and celebrate.

Those people are a bad influence on you. He has to do something about this.

It's easy.

He calls his cousin Maki, asking her to meet him for lunch, using family business as an excuse. He knows she will not come alone, and of course, he is right. By her side is her girlfriend Nobara, always so chatty, always so gossipy. The perfect person to help him achieve his goal.

Megumi quickly finishes the business talk with Maki, and then it's time to set his plan in motion. A few comments here and there about you feeling down lately because there seems to be drama in your friend group, and naturally, Nobara is all ears, leaning across the table, asking him for more details, grinning broadly as she soaks up the gossip greedily.

He can stir the pot. He can make up lies. He can make them look bad. He can make Nobara become indignant and invested and already typing a text message furiously.

And nothing will ever get traced back to Megumi. No one would ever think he is the type for gossip. He is a very serious and professional man who wouldn't be caught dead indulging in petty things like that. No one will believe Nobara if she mentions Megumi was involved in this.

And the beautiful thing about gossip is that no one ever finds out who started it. Once it gets released into the world, it grows and mutates until it's so messy that it's like it has its own will. No one can tell anymore who said what.

Megumi leaves with a content smile. He set things into motion today. Now, he just has to wait.

It takes three days until he catches you standing in the kitchen, your coffee forgotten, wiping tears off your cheeks and looking miserably up at him as he walks towards you with concerned blue eyes,

"Babe, what's wrong?"

You sniffle against his chest, your warm tears seeping through the thin cotton of his shirt as you tell him about the drama that escalated quickly. False accusations, one of your friends claiming you talked about her behind her back. You apparently said that she was involved in the split up of your other friend because she had an affair with the husband and wanted him for herself. And now all your other friends bonded with that friend, not believing you when you say you never did any of that.

You are crying and clinging to Megumi, sobbing into his shirt,

"They don't want to be friends with me anymore. They kicked me out of the group chat and everything!"

Megumi's arms tighten around you. He knows he is selfish. He knows he is the worst. His heart breaks for you when he feels you shaking in his arms. But he only did what had to be done. He cannot let those bitches put their dangerous opinions in your head. He cannot let anyone come between you and him. He needs you.

He hates himself for causing you this pain. But he can ease it. He can show you that you don't need those women. You already have a husband who loves you and cares for you.

He is your strong shoulder to cry on, offering you his love, his reassurance, and his compassion as he caresses your back soothingly and whispers sweet words to you.

"I am so sorry, babe. You don't deserve that. Please promise me you won't talk to them again. They don't deserve to call themselves your friends after this. And you'll always have me, darling. I am always here for you."

Megumi hates to be that guy, but he can't stop himself from balling his hands into fists under the table when you tell him about work every evening over dinner. The way your eyes gleam, the way you laugh as you recount the funny conversations you had with your coworkers.

He feels guilty. He knows a good man would be happy for you. But Megumi isn't a good man. And so he sits there stiffly, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as the jealousy spreads its poison through his blood.

It's not fair that your coworkers get to spend so much time with you. That they have so many inside jokes with you that Megumi simply cannot understand even when you tell him about them. It's not fair that they can make you feel so much. Do you have more fun with them than you have with Megumi?

Probably. He isn't a very fun person. He is too serious, too stern, too controlled. He gulps hard, remembering one incident a year ago when you told him playfully to loosen up a bit. You had smiled and ruffled his hair, but Megumi had felt as if you had stabbed his heart. He had once again felt inadequate. Not enough.

What if you get tired of him? What if you realize that one of your coworkers is a better match for you? That one of them makes you laugh more than Megumi can? That one of them brings more positive energy into your life than Megumi can do?

What if the process of you falling out of love with him and catching feelings for someone else has already started?

Cold fear grips Megumi's heart. He has to do something! You cannot go to work anymore!

But how can he convince you to stay home? It's not like he didn't already try. Megumi is rich. He is the heir of the Zenin family, already a CEO in his mid-twenties. He could easily provide you with everything you need! The moment you were married, he suggested that you could quit your job and become a housewife. He knew lots of women dreamed of this. 

But unfortunately, not you.

You had laughed and rubbed his arm, cooing at him how sweet he was. But no thanks, you wanted to go to work. You liked it there, and you wanted to have something for yourself too!

Megumi's alternate plan had been to ask you to work in his company. Wouldn't it be nice to be in his department? Wouldn't it be nice to be married to your boss?

But you turned his offer down with a smile and a sweet kiss.

"That sounds tempting, babe. But I would hate all the gossip and the accusations. You know how people are. No one would take me seriously. They would all think I have special privileges because I am your wife!"

"So what? Let them talk. Who cares what they think?"

"It would make me uncomfortable. Besides, I already have a job I enjoy and really nice coworkers. I know you only mean well, Megumi. But I don't think it would be good if I worked for your company."

So Megumi had to give up.

There is another option, though. An option that would solve all his problems and bind you even more to him: Having a baby together.

Megumi decides right then and there at the dinner table that he has to prioritize this option. His long fingers dance over his phone display, typing a quick message to Yuuji, his best friend and coincidentally a dad of two little twin boys.

He smiles when his friend replies almost instantly. Megumi puts his phone away and looks at you,

"The Itadoris will come over for coffee this Saturday."

Saturdays are always one of Megumi's favorite days. Saturdays mean you are at home, where you should be, with no work no coworkers. And this Saturday is even better because you are kneeling on the lush carpet in the living room, cooing at two pink-haired baby boys who kick their chubby legs and smile big, adorable smiles at you.

The thing with Megumi's best friend, Yuuji, is that this guy has so much charm and sunshine vibes that he can draw anyone in. And luckily, his babies are exactly the same. The perfect means to what Megumi hopes to achieve. If the Itadori babies can't convince you to become a mom, he doesn't know what else could!

And Yuuji unknowingly plays his part perfectly, too. He is sitting on the floor, laughing and playing with his twins, talking to you about how happy they make him and how amazing his life has been since he became a stay-at-home dad.

"I really enjoyed my work as a firefighter, but it is nothing compared to the joy I feel at home with the twins! This is the best thing that ever happened to me!"

You laugh and tell him he is doing such a good job, but then you add,

"Aren't you getting bored, though? I mean, as a firefighter, you had a high-energy job, with lots of physical activity and all the emergencies, the adrenalin and stuff. I guess being at home must be boring for you at times?"

Itadori shakes his head and smiles that big, toothy smile.

"Nah, I never get bored! Those two little whirlwinds keep me busy! And I can finally learn so many new recipes! I finally have time to cook and bake! And I work out at home or take long runs with the little ones in the stroller, so I am still just as active as before!"

That night, Megumi hugs you from behind and smiles against your neck as he gently strokes your stomach.

"Yuuji's twins are really cute, aren't they? You seemed to be very smitten with them."

For a moment, he thinks he has you. But then you chuckle softly and caress the back of his hand as you tell him,

"They are so cute. And Yuuji is so proud and so happy. It really makes you think, doesn't it? How would our babies look? What would life with them be like? But it's too soon. I want to work for a while longer, at least. I am so close to getting promoted. If I would take a baby leave now, I could forget that. But we still have lots of time, so it's no problem."

Megumi grits his teeth, counting silently to ten before he replies in a carefully neutral tone,

"Yes, you are right, darling. We have all the time in the world."

Megumi is a bad man, and he hates himself for it, but he can't help wishing all the worst things on your coworker. That guy with the short brown hair and the glasses. Why is it that he is chatting with you every fucking day after work? Megumi can see it all clearly from where he is waiting for you in the car.

What's that guy's problem? Why is he trying to hit on a married woman? Megumi isn't stupid. He can clearly see what those guy's intentions are! The casual touches! The big smiles and loud laughs. The overly nice farewell.

Megumi wants to get out of the car and punch that stupid smile off that idiot's face! But he has to keep cool. He has to act as if everything is fine.

Nothing is fine.

Megumi is seething with anger. His vision goes blurry as fear swallows him. It's just a short text message, but to him, it's the same as standing in the middle of the apocalypse.

"Hey babe, some of my coworkers are going out for drinks after work tonight. I agreed to join them, so please don't wait for me for dinner. I will eat something at the bar. I love you!"

His hands are shaking as he stares at the phone screen. Should he feign a sickness? He is sure you would rush home to him if he did that. But no, that will only make him look weak. You don't need a weak man. You need a strong guy who takes care of you.

There is no choice.

"Alright, darling. Have fun. Call me when you're finished so I can pick you up. I love you too."

He throws the phone onto the leather couch in his office with an angry growl. He already sees it all in his head. The chill atmosphere of the bar. The dim lights, the cocktails. The alcohol will make your mind cloudy. And your flirty coworker will use that to his advantage and steal what belongs to Megumi!

His whole day is ruined. Megumi storms out of his office, informing his assistant that there is a family emergency, snapping at her to get things managed for him when she tells him he has several important meetings today.

As if any of that is of importance! Stupid nonsense! All that matters is you!

You, who belong to Megumi! You, who is too kind and sweet and naive to realize what your coworker is trying to do!

Megumi drives home too fast, even though he doesn't even know what he can do at home. He strolls restlessly from one end of the living room to the next, breathing heavily as his mind is in a whirlwind of negative thoughts.

Evening comes, and Megumi grabs his car keys and his coat, jogs down to his car, and drives downtown. It's as if some invisible force pulls him here. As if he is some onlooker of a catastrophe that cannot look away. He needs to be there. He needs to see it with his own eyes.

He hides in the shadows outside the bar, something he has always been good at. When you are an abandoned, grumpy child who gets dismissed as a troublemaker, you learn to become friends with the shadows.

No one pays close attention to him. He isn't suspicious. He's just a tall, good-looking man in expensive dark clothes waiting for someone.

Megumi's chest feels heavy as he narrows his eyes and watches through the window. Your little group sits at a table in the middle of the bar. Happy faces, drinks get raised, laughter gets shared. Your eyes sparkle with joy. Megumi's heart clenches painfully. You are so beautiful. On the inside and outside. Everything he has ever wanted.

But you are in the cozy light of the bar, in the warm room, smiling and laughing and being loved by everyone. And Megumi is out here in the dark, in the cold of the night, all alone, someone who gets abandoned, who gets replaced. Someone who loneliness clings to like a curse.

Your coworker with the brown hair and the glasses sits next to you. Of course, he does! He leans closer to you, brushing his shoulder against yours, turning to talk to you, and you throw your head back and laugh, clearly enjoying what he said.

Megumi's hands ball into fists in the pockets of his coat. A decision is made. Megumi will not lose you. He will mold the world into one where you stay with him. He will control the circumstances, so you have no choice but to be by his side. He will erase everyone who wants to take you away from him. The first one to go will be your flirty coworker.

It's a thought that should be concerning. An idea that would terrify others. But not Megumi. He hasn't been scared of things like these for a long time. He was six when his father left. He was a little child and fended for himself for half a year before people found out he and his sister lived all alone. Megumi isn't scared of using his fists or his mind to take people down who try to hurt him. Violence doesn't scare him. The only thing that scares him is losing you.

It takes a week of planning and observing before everything is perfect.

Megumi picks you up from work and drives you home like every day. He kisses you tenderly as he lets you get out of the car in front of your apartment, telling you that he has to go back to the Zenin building because he still has to make some changes to an important business contract. He drives to his office and makes sure several people see him before he sneaks out and drives to another part of the city.

He parks his car in a sidestreet and walks the rest of the way. His heart is beating rapidly, but his mind is strangely clear. He is a man on a mission. A righteous mission. A husband who ensures his marriage will stay happy.

The black leather gloves feel soft on his hands as Megumi jogs through the dimly lit park. He spots his rival after ten minutes. Megumi follows him slowly, blue eyes observing their surroundings carefully. He feels excited. The thrill of the hunt is sending adrenaline through his veins.

Megumi feels grim satisfaction when he tackles the man to the ground behind a group of trees. He doesn't feel any remorse when he brings the knife down in several precise movements. He can't bring himself to see anything wrong with his actions. He hates bad people, and this guy clearly is a bad person if he is trying to steal someone else's wife. He deserves to die!

Megumi feels elation when he watches with cold blue eyes as the life seeps out of the man who wanted to steal you.

His heart feels light when he finally is back in his car after leaving the cold body of his rival lying in a bloody puddle. He whistles a soft tune on the drive home, feeling as if a great weight has been lifted off his shoulders.

He goes home to you, takes a quick shower, and then slips into bed behind your warm body, smiling when you snuggle against him, mumbling his name with so much love. He makes slow love to you, rolling on top of you, gentle, sleepy sex that makes you wrap your legs around him and mewl cutely as he moves on top of you, deep, slow thrusts accompanied by tender kisses.

You call Megumi at noon the next day when he is in the middle of a meeting. He excuses himself, taking your call to hear your shrill voice telling him that something terrible happened.

And Megumi smiles while he tells you,

"That's horrible, darling. I am coming to pick you up immediately. Please don't go anywhere without me."

He is a good husband, rushing to your workplace to pick up his distraught wife and take her home.

He wraps you in a warm blanket on the couch and brings you tea. He hugs you, pulls you into his strong arms, and tells you he is there for you, tells you that you are safe with him and that he will always protect you.

And you cling to him, crying, scared, and shaken up, burying your face in his chest, snuggling against his firm muscles.

"It's so... It's so crazy and scary. I mean... I have been sitting across from him in the office for several years! We got along so well! I would even say we were friends! And now he... he is... oh god, Megumi! He just went on a run in the park, and someone robbed him and stabbed him! It's like you aren't safe anywhere anymore!"

You hiccup, pressing your face against Megumi's firm chest, your fingers clutching his shirt tightly. He holds you and cuddles you while feeling elated that you need him so bad.

You call in sick for work for three days in a row, and Megumi thinks he has you. You are shaken up, scared by the fact that someone you know got murdered. A terrifying reminder that life outside isn't safe. You could get attacked anywhere at any time.

Megumi pets your hair and strokes your back, telling you to lock the door and snuggle under the blanket with the dogs.

"They will protect you while I'm at work, my love. You are safe here. Just don't leave the apartment. I will be back in a few hours and look after you."

He thinks he did it. He thinks you finally see that it's best to always stay in here. He thinks he can finally rest assured, knowing his sweet wife will only see him and no one else.

But the relief is short-lived.

You get out of bed on the fourth day, smiling bravely and telling Megumi that you feel better again.

"I can't hide away in here forever, Megumi. I have to get back to work."

He punches the wall when you close the bathroom door behind you, cursing under his breath. Why are you doing this to him? Why can't you just let Megumi take care of everything? Why must you be so adamant about standing on your own feet?

Fear is crashing over him again with thick black waves, pulling him under and drowning him in a sea of desperation.

Everything was fine for a few days! You were here, safe and sound, and letting Megumi dote on you! You were only his alone for a few days, and it had felt like the world was finally at peace, that Megumi was finally at peace! He cannot lose this feeling again!

Megumi is an intelligent man, and that is his curse! He isn't one of those naive fools like Itadori, who is, of course, a kind and amazing person, but he is too trusting, always smiling his stupid sunshine smile and not thinking much when his wife leaves the house to go to work all day and meet her friends and coworkers.

Megumi cannot be like that! He knows things! He knows firsthand how unreliable people are! People change their minds all the time. Even those closest to you might leave from one day to the next.

Love doesn't last. Even couples who have been together for decades suddenly cheat on each other and get divorced.

It all comes down to one thing: You cannot trust anyone. Even the most loyal soul might get weak when faced with too much temptation. And why would you stay with someone as flawed as Megumi if you ever get presented with the choice to be with someone who is perfect?

It's not that Megumi doubts your love for him in the here and now. He knows you love him. He frequently reads the texts you send your remaining friends where you swoon about him. He sees how your face lights up with affection when he does all those little acts of service for you. He sees you cry and sob and whine for him almost every night when he makes sure to fuck you so good that he spoils you for any other man.

Yes, you love him. But this is now. What will be in a year? In five? In ten?

Megumi simply cannot bring himself to be as naive as to believe in eternal love and loyalty. His father made sure to show him otherwise. People like Itadori are so clueless, so naive. But not Megumi. He is always prepared to get left behind again.

It's natural. Feelings fade with time, and then it all depends on other circumstances.

Love won't be enough.

He has to make sure you stay with him, not just because you love him because that love can vanish. He has to make sure you are dependent on him. You have to know you cannot just walk away. He needs to make sure you are financially dependent on him. And he has to make sure you don't have anyone else but him. If you have nowhere else to go, you must stay with him.

He slowly unclenches his fists, forcing himself to breathe calmly. He can do this. There must be a way! He already succeeded in isolating you from that friend group he didn't approve of. Now, if you only weren't so stubborn when it comes to work!

Megumi sighs and runs a hand through his unruly black hair. His gaze lands on a patch of color sticking out from under the carpet before the couch. He frowns and walks over, leaning down to inspect it. It's a red pacifier. Yuuji must have dropped it.

Megumi picks it up and holds it between two elegant fingers, turning it thoughtfully from one side to the next.

Maybe there is one more thing he can do.

It's a good thing he is so skilled with his fingers. It's difficult to manipulate the packaging of your birth control pills, but Megumi took the day off to execute his plan meticulously. He carefully pulls the aluminum foil off the blister packaging, flushes the contraceptives down the toilet, and then replaces them with some mild painkillers that look identical.

It takes some effort to fix the foil again, but Megumi has steady hands, and he is driven by desperation and a firm conviction.

By the end of the day, he holds the manipulated packaging proudly in his hands.

He feels a tiny wave of guilt when he puts it back into your nightstand. But it vanishes again when he reminds himself that he is doing this out of love. He just wants to make sure the two of you stay together. And he knows that even if you are shocked at first, you will learn to embrace the thought of becoming a mother.

You were so happy when you saw Yuuji's twins! You will be even more delighted when it's your and Megumi's baby that you hold in your arms! He is just giving you what you want anyway. A happy family. Megumi and you, your baby, and two dogs! The perfect family everybody wishes for! You will learn to love your new life!

Megumi waits. Of course, he keeps track of your monthly cycle. It's something he has always done. As a good caring husband, he always wanted to know at which times of the month the hormones would make you act a certain way, make you sad, or make you horny. But now it's like a countdown to Christmas or his birthday.

Megumi's eyes follow you all day, excitement tingling in his veins when he kisses you before you leave for work. You have started to ovulate. Tonight, he will breed you.

You both don't get a lot of sleep that night. Megumi pulls you onto his lap after dinner, kissing you deeply, licking into your mouth with deep, demanding kisses while his graceful hands slip under your skirt to rub your clit through your panties, driving you wild on his lap, making you mewl into his mouth and grind needily against him, so wet that you stain his pants.

He smiles when he steers you to the bedroom, his cock throbbing eagerly against his pants. Tonight, he will make you a mommy.

You look so beautiful beneath him, your face sweaty and damp from tears of bliss running down your cheeks, your eyes closed in pleasure, your mouth hanging open in loud moans and needy mewls.

Your legs rest on Megumi's shoulders, your body writhes under him, meeting every deep thrust of his needily. He can feel your cunt twitch around him, can feel how wet you are for him, how it stains the bed sheets under you. He can smell how fertile you are, that unmistakenly sweet, enticing smell your pussy has when you are ovulating. It drives him wild tonight. It makes him fuck you hard and deep, rubbing your clit firmly to make you cum on his cock over and over again, making your orgasming pussy milk him dry.

You are so good for him, such a sweet wife, such a good girl, taking all his seed so deeply into you. And Megumi makes sure to keep it in there. He lies on top of you, pressing you into the sheets, moaning softly, his heart overflowing with love when his lips find yours in a long, tender kiss while your pussy pulses around his spent cock.

He stays inside you until his cock softens and slips out of you, leaving a hot sticky trail of his seed and your cream on your inner thighs. Megumi watches you with heavy-lidded dark blue eyes as he pushes his cum back into you, fingering you thoroughly with his ring finger and middle finger, watching in fascination as your combined juices drip down his long fingers and onto the wedding ring he is wearing.

He smiles and coos at you, full of love and praise, telling you how beautiful you are and how much he loves you, groaning when he feels your pussy tightening around his fingers.

"Yes, princess, you are such a good girl for me. Cum on my fingers, sweetheart. Fuck, you're so beautiful!"

He smiles as he watches you come undone for him, letting him fuck all his warm seed back into you, stuffing you with it, making sure you keep it all inside.

For good measure, he takes you again an hour later, fucking you deep and thoroughly, rolling his hips against you, making his full balls slap loudly against you, giving you all his fertile seed, smiling when he imagines you holding a blue-eyed black-haired baby on your arm, waiting for Megumi when he comes home after work.

He comes so hard that he almost blacks out, and his loud feral moan is even drowning out your needy mewls.

Megumi watches you wolfishly. He knows your period should have started three days ago. But every time he checks your stack of tampons and pads, he can see that you haven't used any yet.

He feels a glorious satisfaction as he watches you grow more nervous every day. You constantly leave for the bathroom, probably to check whether your period has finally started, only to return with a feverish look in your eyes.

He waits patiently for several days more so as not to arouse any suspicion. Then he casually asks after kissing you goodbye when leaving for work,

"Oh babe, I'm going to grab some things at the drugstore today after work. Do you need anything? I think you are pretty close to that time of the month, aren't you? Do you need tampons or pads?"

He has to bite his lip not to smile when he sees the emotions flickering over your face. Worry, shame, nervousness. Your lips start to tremble, and finally, you spit it all out,

"I... Oh, Megumi! It should have started six days ago! I am so worried! Like I know it can't be. I... I can't be pregnant... I am on the pill! But... but it's so strange! I have never been late!"

He feigns understanding, smiling gently at you and pulling you against his chest, hugging you comfortingly to his tall, lean-muscled body.

"Aww, please don't worry, darling. It will be fine. Maybe you forgot to take a pill? It can happen so fast. Life is hectic."

He can see your eyes widen. It was a good thing to say. You can be pretty chaotic and forgetful. It's easy to cast doubt and make you believe it was your mistake. He can feel you stiffen in his arms. And when you lift your head to look at him, guilt is written all over your pretty face,

"Shit... that's a possibility, yeah. I can be such a distracted idiot! I am so stupid!"

"No, please don't blame yourself, babe. Really, it's ok. Look, we already agreed that we want to have kids someday, right? So, what if it happens a bit sooner than planned? I don't mind at all, darling. I love you, and I will always take care of you and our possible kids. Don't worry."

You blink rapidly as tears gather in your eyes, and Megumi cups your cheek and caresses it tenderly,

"Why don't you take the day off, babe? We can buy some pregnancy tests and see what's going on. And no matter what the tests say, everything will be fine, I promise you. You can always count on me, my love. We will get through everything together."

You nod wildly and smile gratefully at him as tears run down your cheeks, and you throw yourself into Megumi's arms again, letting him comfort you.

"O...ok, Megumi. Thank you, baby. I love you too."

You are so cute like this, nervous and scared, needing Megumi so much. He drives you back home with only one hand on the steering wheel. His other hand is clutched tightly between your cold fingers. A small happy smile tugs at the corners of Megumi's lips. He likes this. He likes being needed by you.

Finally, things will be in his favor. He knows it.

You are a nervous wreck the whole remaining day, pacing the living room restlesssly until Megumi gets in your way and makes you bump against his tall, lean-muscled body, and he pulls you in his arms, reassuring you, giving you all the comfort and love you need.

Megumi sets an alarm for six in the morning so you can take the pregnancy test. He is already awake, unable to sleep with how excited he is when the alarm starts blaring, and you jump out of bed at the first sound of it, shaking a bit as you look at him with big eyes,

"It's time... ok, I'll... I'll take the test now."

And Megumi is there for you, of course. He is the best husband you could wish for. Caring, loving, devoted, reliable. Megumi is someone you can count on. He smiles gently at you and takes your hand.

"You mean, we will take the test now. I am here for you, sweetheart. You aren't alone."

He leads you to the bathroom. He reads the instructions to you and hands you a plastic cup. He leans against the sink and smiles as you pee into the cup, refusing to leave your side even for one minute. A husband and wife can share every moment after all. There is no shame.

You smile sheepishly at him as you walk over to him, and Megumi takes the plastic cup out of your trembling hand.

"You're doing great, darling. Let me do the rest."

He prepares the test and pulls you into his strong arms, letting you hide your face in his firm, muscled chest, breathing in the comforting scent of the shirt he slept in while you wait for the test result.

Megumi strokes your back soothingly. His lips brush over your earlobe as he murmurs to you,

"No matter what the test says, I love you."

The sound of the alarm makes you jump. Megumi is the one who takes the test off the sink with steady fingers. He already knows what it will say.

"Pregnant."

His strong arms catch you when you sway lightly on your feet. His lips press gently against your hair, breathing a soft kiss to your forehead. You cannot see it, but the smile on Megumi's face is the happiest he has ever smiled.

You bury your face in his shirt, your voice sounds muffled, full of tears,

"I am so sorry Megumi! If only I had been more careful! I... oh god, what if I fail at being a mom? And now you will have so much more responsibility too, and it's my fault, and I..."

He silences your tearful ramblings by making you lift your head and capture your lips in a deep kiss, licking the salty taste of your tears out of your mouth. His heart feels like bursting, so exhilarated, so happy. It's lovely to see you so weak. So dependent on him. He loves to be needed.

He cups your cheek lovingly when he pulls away from the kiss. Dark blue eyes look deeply into yours, almost as if he is trying to hypnotize you and drill his words into your brain,

"You will be a wonderful mom, and I will gladly take on this new responsibility. I love you, and I love our child. I will always provide for you, darling. I will always be yours, and you will always be mine."

He finally has everything he ever wanted. A diamond ring is sparkling on your finger. Your belly will soon be swollen with his baby, showing everyone his claim on you. You will stay at home from now on, far away from anyone who could possibly steal you away from your husband.

And if you decide to return to work one day, Megumi will just knock you up again. He is obviously quite skilled at fucking a baby into you, and he will do it as often as the circumstances require it.

Yes, Megumi finally has everything he ever wanted.

You.

Mine. Mine. Mine. Forever.

Thank you so much for reading my second story for Halloween 2023!! I am sorry that it got so long, but it was so much fun to write Megumi's descent into madness ;)

I hope you enjoyed Yandere!Megumi!! Please let me know what you think. Comments and reblogs would be very sweet!!

Once again, thank you so much to Loni for hosting this super fun Halloween Collab!! I could finally write this story after having it in my drafts for two years!!

[madwomansapologist]

──────〃✰ KINKTOBER DAY 5: 𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓

title: a small favor synopsis: a movie night turned into you being a good girl for your older sister. if only she had warned you of what it truly meant. [1.1K] cw: t!karlach, plus size!reader, incest, lil sis/big sis, dub con, gaslighting, obssessive behavior, apologetic, spit, dry humping, pussyjob, premature ejaculation.

PREV POST ✰ NEXT POST

Your smile oscillated at the lack of Karlach’s laughter. Lifting your torso from the couch, weight supported by your elbows, you searched for her burning eyes. “Are you being serious?”

Sitting at the end of the couch with your feet resting on her lap, Karlach continued to simply face the television. It’s been a while since you stopped paying attention to it, boredom lulling you into a fragile slumber. Maybe you misheard her, maybe you were half-dreaming and just imagined it all.

“It would help”, Karlach said, showing how wrong you were. “More than anything else.”

Dropping your head behind, your nape burned. Blurred shapes appeared on your vision as the lamp burned your eyes. “I… but won’t it be weird?”

Her tail wrapped around your ankle. A soft caress that never failed to bring you comfort. “C’mon, gorgeous”, Karlach smiled. The hold on your ankle became tighter. “It’s you and me. You don’t need to worry your pretty head when I’m around.”

“I know,” you murmured. Sitting, you felt as the strap of your nightgown slid down your shoulder. “I just never heard of something like that before.”

Karlach held the strap with her index finger, placing it back into the right place. Her claw stroked lightly the skin of your shoulder. So cold. “I’ll do everything”, she whispered. “All you need is to turn around and wait.”

You sighed. Karlach has never been anything but amazing to you. And when the girl you love the most in the entire world tells you she’s in pain and there’s something you can do to help, of course you agree. It can be weird and it makes you worry because she told you it needs to be a secret, but you agree either way.

Kneeling on the couch, feet hanging from the cushioned seat, you placed your head over the pillow back. Raising your hips, you tried to face Karlach. “Like that?”

Karlach got up from the couch, thanking entire pantheons of gods for her legs to still work. Behind you, her fingers played with the hew of your nightgown. She lifted the fabric, your legs closing as you got exposed.

At the moment, Karlach could combust in shame and lust.

Being a sinner is easier when you’re unaware of god’s rules. After you discover the rotten nature of your actions, nothing can make you forget that lesson. It takes innate talent to be such a good liar you manage to fool yourself.

A lifetime ago, Karlach didn’t knew what shame felt like. Back then, she didn’t collect hidden diaries and secret desires. Talking in her sleep wasn’t something to fear. Her conscience wasn’t consistently telling her just behave.

Holding your hand when crossing the street. Cleaning the warm traces of tears with her thumbs. Her tail, constantly wrapped around your legs. Sleeping next to you. Putting bandages over every scratch. Getting your towel when you forget to do so.

She resents the moment she was taught civility. Everything was normal before, she was normal before, but they had to force her eyes wide open. Without any other choice, Karlach understood. Being herself, wholeheartedly herself, was wrong.

The things Karlach did could be normal, but not the things she felt.

People will call her broken, depraved, filthy. Karlach will accept every curse throw at her. She deserves them. Others will make excuses for her behavior, lying to themselves to not admit how they failed to see her true nature. She’ll accept them too. As long as they don’t say she wasn’t aware of the seriousness of her action and desires.

This is wrong. This is so wrong. And Karlach knows. Still, she can’t stop herself from sinning. No. Another lie. Karlach can stop, she just won’t. Like a predator lurking over a trembling prey, smelling fear and still drooling over their soft fur.

The shame is there, but so is the never-ending hunger.

“Stay just like that”, Karlach purred, unbuttoning her pants. “You’re the best, sis.”

If only you weren’t so soft. That’s something she never was. Wide smiles, eyes so bright Karlach swears your soul is leaking through them. No sharp edges or second intentions. Nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. No one can compare to you.

Being around you is enough to make Karlach forget about decency. To watch you being yourself is enough to burn away the shame. And she is always watching. As you bend to clean the bathroom, or when you wash dishes with that old almost see-through t-shirt. But this nightgown…

Karlach could go berserk because of it. Her blood was boiling beneath her skin. Such a tiny thing. This satin fabric showing all your curves and lines, so tight it left little to imagination. Have you noticed? How it barely covers your thighs, holds your breasts inside it?

Her hands involved your ass. Is there anything not soft about you? Anything not worth touching? Karlach’s fingertips stroked the skin around your blue panties, her claws sinking into it. She stopped herself from asking you to take them off.

You tried to move away, knees almost slipping away from the couch. Karlach held your waist before you could fell. “Don’t worry”, Karlach held you in place. “It’s just you and me.”

When you nodded, Karlach took a last deep breath.

Slowly, she pumped her cock. It was already leaking. Pressing her thumb against her maroon head, Karlach guided her length towards your core. Such a soft tissue. So thin she could feel your lips moving inside it.

Drooling, Karlach knew she had to be quick. If not, she wouldn’t be able to stop there. She spat on her hand, spreading the drool all over her cock. She grabbed your hips, this time more firmly as Karlach placed her foot on the seat.

“Close your legs”, she demanded. “Tightly.”

You obeyed, squeezing her cock with your thighs. You relaxed when Karlach moaned, babbling something you couldn’t really understand. Good. This is really helping her.

“I’m sorry”, Karlach cried out loud. And she really was. Fucking your thighs, Karlach trembled. You were so warm. So perfect. “I… uhm. Fuh-fuck, oh shit. Hells. It’ll be over soon. I will-”

Resting her head on the curve of your neck, Karlach mounted you. You felt cold tears falling on your skin. Her jaw dropped, eyes rolling back. Her orgasm washed over her, her thick load staining the insides of your thighs white.

“Thank you”, Karlach babbled. “Thank you so much.”

With your head pressed against the pillow, trying to ignore a weird feeling at your core, you nodded. “You’re welcome.”

This is so wrong. Karlach knows that. It just feels so right.

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[minimoxha]

Deadbeat dad! Toji

Summary: Norhihg, i did this in fifteen minutes idk what this is! Stay to the end for my A/N <3

Pairing: Toji/Reader , Gojo/reader. Not edited.

So you wanna try to come back now?” Looking at toji and how he looks, you were bewildered to see the man you didn’t think you’d see again standing at your doorstep with flowers that looked like they were mere inches from death. He was still a godamn cheapskate.

“Look baby, i was in a bad space and i wasn’t ready to be a father. I wanna be a father now , for gumi.”

You stood at the doorstep, staring at Toji with a mixture of surprise and hesitation. The sight of him, holding wilted flowers and expressing a sudden desire to be a father for Gumi, left you speechless. You couldn't help but feel a flood of conflicting emotions, memories of past disappointments mingling with a glimmer of hope.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered yourself and calmly replied, "Toji, it's been six years since you walked away. Six years of struggles, of raising Gumi on my own. How can I trust that you're truly ready now? Why would I even give you the option to come back?"

Toji's eyes flickered with a hint of regret as he lowered his gaze. "I know I made mistakes, and I can't change the past. But I've done a lot of soul-searching, reflecting on what I've missed out on. I realize now that being a father is more than just a title; it's about being there for our child, supporting them, and showing them love. I want to make up for lost time, for the moments I wasn't there." He didn’t even sound serious, he sounded drunk. He most likely wasn’t drunk but he sounded like he was on hard drugs.

Your mind raced, torn between the desire to protect Gumi from disappointment and the possibility of a renewed and involved father figure. Questions flooded your thoughts, and you found yourself asking, "Toji, what's different now? Why should I believe that things will be any different this time?"

Toji's voice trembled slightly as he spoke. “Baby, give me one more chance. Let me prove to you that i could love you and megumi.”

You glanced at the wilting flowers in Toji's hands, a metaphor for the fragility of your hope. But within that fragility, a glimmer of possibility began to emerge. You knew you needed to consider Gumi's well-being above all else, but perhaps there was room for growth and forgiveness.

"I need time, Toji," you finally replied, the weight of uncertainty evident in your voice. "Gumi deserves a committed and loving father. Show me, over time, that you truly mean what you say. Show me, and maybe, just maybe, we can try to build something new."

Toji nodded, understanding the gravity of your request. "I'll do whatever it takes, for Gumi and for you. I'll prove that I can be the father our child deserves and be the man that could please you.” You give him a nod and shut the door, letting your hands linger as your emotions come washing over you. You were supposed to be over Toji, having moved on after six years but the day you seen him again it seems like all your hard work in your self and raising Megumi just went down the drain.

A pair of arms wrap around your waist. “Who was that at the door?” Your fiancé said from behind. You turned around to get a good look at your white haired fiancé, Gojo holding megumi in his hands. That’s when it came to

you for why exactly you changed and left that man alone. Not only because he was broke but because of the new man who brought change in you.

You felt the familiar wrap of arms around your waist, only to realize it was your fiancé, the cocky and confident Gojo, who was holding you close. His question about the visitor at the door dripped with disdain as he asked, "Who was that at the door?"

You turned around to face Gojo, taking in his signature smug expression and the way he effortlessly held Megumi in his hands. A mix of emotions danced in your eyes as you remembered the past, and you couldn't help but notice how Gojo's distaste for Toji was evident.

"It was Toji," you replied, a hint of annoyance in your voice.

Gojo's eyes narrowed with disdain as he scoffed, "Toji, huh? Figures. The guy was nothing but a broke loser, just like I always said."

You couldn't help but sigh, knowing that Gojo's strong dislike for Toji was deeply ingrained. "It wasn't just about him being broke, Gojo. There were other reasons why I left him or why he left me.”

Gojo smirked confidently, his arrogance shining through. "Well, whatever they were, I'm glad you did. Good riddance to that sorry excuse of a man. With me, you've got someone who knows how to handle things, how to provide, and how to take care of you and our little one."

You couldn't deny the truth in his words. Gojo possessed a certain charm and charisma that had drawn you in, but his cockiness sometimes rubbed you the wrong way. "I appreciate your confidence, Gojo, but let's not forget that it takes more than material wealth to make a good partner and father."

His smirk wavered slightly, but his eyes remained determined. "I know that, babe. But you saw what Toji was like—unreliable, irresponsible. I'm the complete opposite. I'm here, I'm present, and I won't let you or Megumi down."

You couldn't deny that Gojo's presence had brought stability and support to your life, but a part of you couldn't help but feel torn. "I do appreciate everything you've brought into our lives, Gojo, but let's try not to let our personal feelings cloud our judgment. It's important for Megumi to have a healthy relationship with both of his parents, even if Toji wasn't the best at first. I just don’t know if we could trust him. "

Gojo's expression dropped slightly, a hint of understanding flickering in his eyes. "Alright, I'll try to keep my personal feelings in check. But don't forget, I'll always be the better man for you and Megumi."

You chuckled softly, a mix of exasperation and affection. "Shut up, idiot.” Gojo flashed a cocky grin, his confidence never wavering.

Idk what this is tbh i wrote this while i was on the toilet because i’ve been gone pretty long and i know i needed to upload something. I’m still alive yall! Just a bunch of life issues in the way. This will start my regular posting though! (i hope.) Lwave me some ideas in my inbox if you want to tell me what you want to see, love you guys!

[eudaimonia83]

For @elucienweekofficial 2023: sunshine prompt. (Could also fit the courtiers prompt.)

Title: OVER & UNDER

Word Count: 4890

Content Descriptors: tooth rotting fluff. SFW. No triggers, unless I missed something major…if so, please point it out to me and I’ll add it.

Summary: Elain, now living in the Day Court, is learning some symbolic braids for Lucien’s hair. I’m not great at one-shots 🫣 but I figured I’d try, bc these sweet bbys deserve some joy…even from yours truly, an anointed Duchess of Misery and Angst.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48505399

“Repeat after me: Solaris, Aeolish, Haelicon.”

Elain dutifully repeated the names, watching Corinda, Helion’s Chancellor of Rhodes, as she pulled out a copy of the list of tribes who had requested an audience with the High Lord. Or, failing that, the Sun Prince.

“Now tell me what you’d need to know about any of those, in a meeting.” Corinda examined her over the edge of the paper.

Elain recited, thinking, trying to balance her racing thoughts with the intricate movements she had to make with her hands. These damn braids…would they never behave…?

She realized she’d fallen silent and resumed her lesson. “The largest tribes of the shore and the sea, who possess wind magic that assists them in sailing and fishing.” She wound hair around her left hand, trying to complete the first few inches of the braid, which needed to adhere more closely to the scalp than the lower parts, if it was to serve to keep loose hair out of the eyes, or to act as an anchor for a hair piece. But the strands got caught around her little finger and anchored too loosely in the braid. She was tempted to curse, but Corinda, ever sharp and experienced and unfailingly courteous, would never stand for it.

“Yes.” Corinda’s mellifluous voice inflected up at the end, and Elain knew her answer to be incomplete. “But what will they likely ask for in an audience?”

Elain squinted and focused hard on the fingers of her right hand, where she held the comb that was creating the sections for the box braids. “Wider…access. For fishing rights. And docking privileges in ports and harbor islands.”

“Yes, and who would oppose them in such a request?”

“The harbor and quarter masters.” Elain thought of the reticent, dismissive pair they had just met with to discuss fees and safety concerns at the docks.

“Just so.” Corinda turned to select another dossier and frowned as it wasn’t the one she was searching for. “The harbor fae will not readily relinquish their access to the small islands, as they are a windfall in lightening fees for the larger ships. Not without a fee.”

“And the shore tribes don’t have that revenue,” Elain continued. “Not yet, anyway. Not unless they can also access the lightening docks at the outer harbors and ports.” The comb spun and dropped with a clatter to the tile floor as she tried to draw it toward the back of the section she’d created. She hissed in anger.

With a husky laugh, Corinda put down her dossier of commerce updates from the harbor, picked up the errant comb, and gave it back to her. “Hold the hair looser in your left hand, Princess. Then you can create a straight line more easily; let the strands escape as the comb guides them.”

They had been in the Solarium for hours now, struggling with horsehair and mannequins after the interminable meeting with the harbor fae. The rays were getting long over the Western Sea, and the Sun Tower’s bright beams could now be seen over the sun itself, sweeping gently across the darkening harbor. Elain had had dinner plans, but she’d canceled them in a burst of industriousness a few hours ago, and now she was regretting it, awash in frustration. Corinda watched her for a moment, then stood and with measured, precise gestures, lit tiny glowing lights in the hanging lamps. They created no heat but were still bright enough to hurt the eyes, when not concealed in their brass shades. But under Corinda’s gentle touch, the room flooded with a golden glow.

“How does anyone learn to do this?” Elain gritted between clenched teeth, carving against the rigid marble skull, decorated with a full head of sweeping horsehair after it was repurposed from a crumbling statue — all for her to practice this task. This thing that she so badly wanted to be good at. This thing she was beginning to fear she’d never master.

Corinda approached, observed for a moment, and nodded approvingly; then applied her strong, practiced fingers over Elain’s long and awkward ones. “It is only practice, Princess. Practice, and experience. It is kind of you to wish to learn this.”

“But I haven’t really learned it. And with all the other things you have to do? How did you master it?” Elain said, hearing the petulance in her voice and hating it. She sounded like a disappointed child.

Corinda smiled. “I worked at it for centuries. And be fair to yourself, for you have learned, Princess. Your braids are smooth now, even if your sections need work. And you don’t need the seed pod oil to make them shine now. To say nothing of the deference you command in meetings now.” She gathered up her papers and slid them in orderly rows into her leather pouch. Elain was constantly jealous of the chancellor’s organization; her calm, and the level of trust she inspired. Not only from Helion and the aristocrats who relied on her expertise, but the merchants and fae who had faith that she would mediate fairly on their behalf.

“But the braids — they mean things.” Elain twisted the strands she had separated the horsehair into, stroking them into three pieces — then adding them into an additional lock of horsehair for a thicker braid. She had braided her own hair many times, and even her sisters’ on occasion, but never with the damned extensions that got hopelessly tangled, and never in the complex geometric patterns that acted as an anchor for the coronet of the Day Court. She bit her lip, concentrating hard, and let out a frustrated sigh. “And I just want them to mean the right things. For anyone looking closely.”

Corinda laughed. “Yes, Princess, they mean things,” she said, her voice going softer, falling into incantation, intonation. “Long ago the world was built of rage and chaos, and we Fae had to find places we could hear the music of the world. We were wild ourselves, after all, and like all the creatures, looking for safety. And for our Solaris folk — the tribe of my ancestors — following the sun and the open blue of the sky, the solution was to plan routes through the darkness.” Her hand steadied Elain’s, pointing to a forgotten skein. Elain nodded and pulled it back in, the braid twisting naturally around the central fourth strand to create a spiral. Corinda pointed again, and Elain wound the skeins of hair together again. “The spiral represents the route up, and out. A stable way to navigate the chaos. We sailed, mile by perilous mile, into the light; but we never forget our time in the dark…or how easily we could slip backward into it.” She picked up the wire of a coronet, placing it on top of the braids Elain had painstakingly created, and winding each braid around the base to hold it steady. “And we brought the great treasures of Day with us; because beautiful things are a gestalt, a thing greater than the sum of its parts. They mean we made something important in our time on the earth. That’s our responsibility; to make things, and people, connect. Despite the differences.”

Elain was quiet, listening. She had heard it many times, and yet it never ceased to make her calm. To think of how the past affected the future, and the present lived in the fulcrum. How Lucien, in his own way, had lived that connection; forging upward out of chaos and darkness, scraping by on courage and hope, building something beautiful against all odds. The bond rolled against her ribs as she thought of him, purring like a contented kitten. That russet hair, the color so rich it was almost ruby; the bronze skin, aglow with the sunfire that was banked inside him; the gold eye that whizzed faster as his interest piqued and his mind sped to accommodate new information; the gleaming, mischievous smile, rarer these days as the responsibility of his position weighed on him, but all the sweeter for that. Thinking of him, how she wanted him to look on the day of the celebration, when he was presented to his people, she picked up the comb and leaned forward again, making little sections of hair under the golden light, as Corinda murmured encouragement and corrected her every now and then, twisting them and molding them into shapes that could make her Sun Prince unique. To show the Day Court — and all the other courts too, she thought with grim satisfaction — how it might be different. A new kind of High Lord with a new agenda. Step by step, she thought, twisting the hair around her fingers, determination writ large across her delicate features. Into the light.

“Are you going to the Common Market tonight?” Corinda asked.

Elain nodded.

“Be listening,” she said. “Their reactions to your rule will live in their talk, and in their tone. Some will not like our every choice, but if they see it as fair, you have won the day.” She closed her leather pouch with a snap and walked to the door. “And be thinking of what we will need to tell the Sun Prince on his return.”

————————

The shadows were long and blue in the alcoves, under the awnings, and the sound of the sea in the background was murmuring; calming, with an occasional creak and splash as a rope thudded against a dock or a sail was wound up to rest against a mast. It was a beautiful evening, cool and calm, and the white hulls of the boats against the dark bulk of the rocky harbor would be the final sight as the night sank over Rhodes. And here she was, with a purpose, with intelligence to gain, but only missing Lucien. Her heart twisted with longing for him. He’d been gone for almost a month now, up to the hill country, far from the city to avoid any danger from practicing with his sunfire; he’d gotten so much better at it, too, she reflected, remembering how only a few weeks ago it had rushed out of him so intensely that he’d kept the entire county at full daylight for almost two days. Helion had had to shield the city from the relentless sunlight, and announce to the public that the Sun Prince was learning to wield his emerging powers. Yesterday evening, as Elain had walked through the Common Market at the base of the city, breathing in the rich scent of the bougainvillea and the cinnamon trees, she had overheard many people talk about the constant glow to the East, which had faded to a dim arc over the horizon. The prince is learning fast, they’d said, chuckling. When Lord Helion acquired his full powers we were under constant noon sunlight for a week.

This prince is powerful, one old merchant had said. He holds back the sunset even before he is the High Lord.

May he hold back the darkness and danger as well, another had said, making the circular sign for safety over his heart as he handed Elain one of her favorite pastries, crusty with sugar and crackling crisp, the scent of fresh-ground coriander and cinnamon wafting up. She licked the lingering sweetness off her fingers, studying the heliotrope flowers that wound up the side of the pale walls of the Citadel. In their flowering season, the plants absorbed light from the relentless Day sun, and stayed softly glowing in the evening, continuing to attract their pollinators for a few extra hours into the night. Was it her imagination or were they brighter than they had been before? Perhaps the brightness was an indicator they were almost done flowering.

She climbed the steps to the Western Gate, where the guard let her in with a bob of his head and a muttered “good evening.” She went out frequently enough that the guards had stopped insisting on accompanying her long ago; most times, as she had in Velaris, she left through the servants’ entrances with her scarf draped around her head, but now she also kept a clever little glamour she’d learned from Helion over her face, and no one not looking closely would ever have recognized the Sun Princess wandering in the massive Common Market like a housewife. Elain loved the anonymity of it all, and how much she’d been able to explore. For the first time in her life, it felt like freedom. She’d wandered the winding streets, familiarized herself with the pier and the ships that went out on day journeys to fish or trawl, eaten lunch in the shadow of the Sun Tower. She’d made friends with the dairy merchants and the bakers, who now saved her her favorite items and called her over for spirited bargaining, which had embarrassed Elain until she realized it was an elaborate game to which all were privy. And so much more besides.

She’d eaten oysters fresh from the bay with salt and lemon, the acid stinging her tongue and the flavor of the ocean bursting in her mouth…bought twisted paper packets of spices more precious than gold whose scent scorched her nostrils…stained her hands in the buckets of rich indigo and violet dyes…and once been gifted a white silk scarf of a weave so fine it was almost transparent, edged with golden threads. The merchant, a female with faceted, jewel-like eyes and skin of glimmering gold, had nodded at her with odd familiarity and refused payment.

She’d seen barefoot urchins with wings of obsidian black fluttering around pelting each other with refuse, smelters hammering at copper pots and urns, the sick and destitute clustering around the hospitals, distinguished old ladies hard at work on the great looms making the lush textiles that Rhodes was famous for, even lewd street performers impersonating her and Helion and Lucien. Elain had been shocked at first, and had told everyone about the little pantomime with cheeks burning; but Helion had only roared with laughter over it all. Corinda had chuckled and said, “The people may mock you on occasion, Princess, but their hearts are with you. Else you’d see much more violent and angry displays, instead of just tasteless comedies.”

Elain pulled back her hood as she passed under the gate, the white limestone gleaming in the last of the light, and with a smoothing motion over her face, removed the glamour. Her curls fell from the hood and she briefly shook them in the breeze, relishing the touch of the wind against her neck…and then a familiar twinge against her ribs. She opened her eyes just as a bright light spilled from a room on the second floor, doors flung wide to the inner courtyard. Her room.

She knew instantly what it meant, and it sped her steps into a frenzy, all tiredness forgotten, breaking into a run up the stone stairs. She raced along the wide hallway with its generous arches and fluttering curtains and the ribboning bougainvillea vines she had braided with jasmine and coaxed into bloom. Skidding to a stop, she burst through the door into her room, alight with a globe of drifting sunfire so bright it hurt her eyes — and as she threw up her hand to shade her face, arms caught her around her waist, and pulled her in. To him. To his solid, lean frame, warm and welcoming. To his scent, pomegranate and whiskey, ribboned sweet with her own honey and jasmine, just as overpowering to her senses as ever he was.

I missed you, was all she could think as he kissed her, her relief and joy rendering her close to senseless, his lips firm against hers, hands gentle on her neck and waist. Gods, I felt your absence like my own heart was gone from my body. Her arms circled his neck and crushed him to her, and he laughed, lifting her up and spinning her around. The little lock in her heart that shut tight when he had to be away opened with a snap, flooding her chest with warmth, adding fierce desire to her kiss. He broke away after a moment to catch his breath, and she leaned in, greedy for him, her teeth snagging his lower lip.

“Wait. Look,” he whispered, and nodded toward the globe of light bathing them both in radiance. With one hand open, he dimmed it so the shadows lengthened, and his hand glowed as he pulled the sunfire back into his flesh in an incandescent stream, then banked it into a golden gleam that lit his hand enough that she could see the bones and veins inside it.

“You…you can control it,” she whispered, and tucked her face against his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist. Last she’d seen him, nearly a month ago, he could call it up but could not pull it back, only hold on to it with arms extended, waiting for his control to rupture before rays shot out in every direction. He was so calm now. Gods, she loved seeing him like this. Expert. Finessed. Magnificent.

He made a noise of dissent and kissed her hair. “I can control it better,” he said. “Not entirely. It’s gotten away from me many times. But it…answers to me more easily now. Like I have a dragon on a leash, and sometimes it eats from my hand.”

“What happens when it gets away?” she asked, tangling her fingers with his, gazing at the pulsing light that beat inside his nail beds.

He cast his eyes down, shamefaced. “I dried up a river by accident…and blasted a field of sunflowers to ash. At first I wondered if that was partially the Autumn fire, but Helion said no, the sunfire burns brighter and is more likely to scorch.”

“But you can dim it and brighten it now, according to your will?”

“Most times, yes,” he said. His arms tightened around her. “As soon as I could do that, I knew it’d be safe to come see you…to tell you how much I missed you, and how often I thought of you…”

“Don’t tell me,” she interrupted, threading her fingers into his hair. “Show me.”

He needed no further invitation to extinguish the remaining glow, plunging them into darkness and surrendering to the bond, which was its own dragon on a leash between them, roaring with a deep and insatiable need.

And now it would feast.

————————

Hours later, the sky was pale with the coming dawn. Elain awoke slowly, surfacing as if through deep water, limbs languid and wound in the sheets. She turned over to her side to face Lucien, who was still fast asleep on his stomach, arm splayed toward her. She smiled at him fondly, reaching out to push back the coil of hair that had fallen across his face and fluttered in the quiet breath from his nose and mouth. He grunted and buried his face in the pillow, and she almost laughed aloud; there were times when she felt she could see how he had been as a child or a youth, groggy in the morning and wild at night.

“Wake up,” she whispered, and ran her finger down the back of his neck.

“Mmmfff.”

She turned her finger slightly so her fingernail sliced into the groove of his spine, right between the angle of his shoulder blades. She couldn’t suppress a giggle when she saw goosebumps bubble along the skin of his bare back. “Wake up, prince of Day.”

He huffed a gusty sigh that lifted his back muscles up, and her mouth went dry as sand at the sight of his bronze skin, bare in the sparse light. She watched little patches of golden light crackling along his ribs as he breathed. “You’re going to miss the sunrise…”

His arm shot out and scooped around her waist, and she went down with a squeal as he rolled, tunneling into the sheets with her, holding her flush against him. “This is a better view,” he whispered. “Brighter than the eastern sun on the horizon.”

Overcome, she tilted her head towards him, pushing against him. Her face fit right into where his neck and shoulder met; he let out an undignified squawk as she scraped her teeth there, catching some of his skin between her incisors. “Stop, or I can’t be blamed for what I do next,” he laughed.

“You think I fear you?”

“You should. I’ve never known you to not succumb to this…” he wiggled his fingers firmly against her abdomen and she doubled up, breathless with giggles.

“Stop, Lucien, stop!” He did, brushing a kiss to her chest; she heaved with laughter. “I just…you’re such a scoundrel, and a mess.”

“Funny, Helion says the same thing,” he groaned, flopping sideways. “And after that river dried up I thought the same thing too.”

She kissed the notch of his collarbone. “My poor Sun Prince. I wasn’t trying to shame you, really; I only meant your hair was a mess, not you yourself.”

“My hair?”

“You haven’t braided it in weeks, clearly,” she said, combing her fingers through it until she hit a snarl, then picked at the tangle with her nails. “Let me?”

He hesitated. “It takes a while,” he said finally. “The braids I usually wear aren’t just the simple ones.”

“I know,” she said, and a grin crept onto her face. “I’ve been practicing.”

“You have?” His eyes went round with surprise. “When have you had time for that?”

“Corinda was teaching me in between meetings. Sometimes as we reviewed for audiences with the merchants and the guilds. It was useful to help keep my statistics and facts and figures straight. While you were taming a few sunbeams, I’ve learned to keep my hands and my mind busy at the same time, you see,” she teased. “And now I just can’t let you look scruffy.”

“I thought you liked me scruffy.”

She relented. “I do. But…maybe I just want that Lucien to be my Lucien. Outside of here you’re the Sun Prince. And you’re changing things, and the people can feel it, and they hope to be able to trust you. I want them to see you that way. Only here…” she tilted her head and nuzzled his throat gently. “Only here will you be all unraveled, and messy, and mine. It’s the only way I can bear to share you. And so I feel it’s only fair that I should help present you to the court.”

He swallowed, and his eye went bright; even the gold one got a bit of extra sparkle. He released her and sat up, shaking his head until the red locks stood out from his head like a mane. “Then show me what you’ve learned, Blossom.”

She pushed up onto her elbows, excitement sparking through her. “Truly?”

“I can’t wait to see your new talents,” he said, and stood up, reaching out for her hands to pull her from the bed. “And to hear all the business of Rhodes as well.”

She seized her white robe from the foot of the bed and swung it around herself, already padding eagerly across the tile on her bare feet to the wardrobe, in search of her comb and the seed pod oil to keep the hair sections neat. Lucien pulled on his breeches, discarded on the floor since last night, and watched her with amused affection as she bustled around setting things up. Finally she took a seat on an overstuffed ottoman, and motioned for him to sit in front of her, tossing a cushion onto the floor. He obligingly sat before her, arms draped over her knees, and leaned back as her hands plunged into his hair, combing through it, smoothing his scalp, dividing the bright russet locks into pieces.

He hummed contentedly, deep in his chest, as the comb sectioned the hair at the front of his head. “How have the meetings with Corinda gone?”

“Fairly well,” she said, her brows pinching in concentration as she began twirling the hair and flipping the skeins over and under, over and under. “The guild of the Solaris fishermen wants fishing rights in the bay, but Corinda says they would settle for shared waters between us and the Western Islands as long as…” she trailed off.

“As long as what?…ouch.” He turned his head to look at her and she swatted him on the ear as she tightened the braid she was working on.

“Don’t move your head,” she said sharply. “As long as their boats can move in and out of Summer Court harbors.”

“That would involve a treaty with Tarquin and spells to make the maritime border passable,” Lucien murmured. Her hands on his head made his eyelids heavy.

“Yes,” she said, crisply, twisting the braid and securing the end before picking the comb up and starting the next one. “And their catch migrates seasonally through the oceans without difficulty, so if the minnows can manage it, and the summer silverfish, why not you?” She dropped a kiss atop his head. “You are the son of the spellcleaver.”

“Hm.” He seemed at a loss for words. “Would that not overstep my authority?”

She shrugged. “If it does, then you can allow Helion to negotiate it as he sees fit. And you will still have the harbor and shore fae’s respect for bringing their concerns to the highest audience.”

He quieted as he thought about it. She teased three skeins of hair from the other side of his head and guided them back over the loose hair. “These braids mean things, you know.”

“Yes,” he said. “In Autumn they refer to your battle prowess. And your rank.”

“I mean here, in Day,” she said. “They represent triumph over adversity. Corinda’s told me some things; I don’t know all of them. But there’s a legend of Solaris people escaping from a great darkness across the sea, where they had come from a garden of plenty who had fallen under the shadow. They had to leave or risk enslavement. So they came east toward the rising sun. They had to fight all manner of monsters for their freedom; and then leave with nothing but ropes and sailcloth and a little food and water.” She pulled the strands into a spiral. “They brought the crown with them — representing sunbeams reaching toward them. And settled in a new place. But they stayed by the sea. To build their lives where they could see where they came from and where they were going.”

She fitted the crown on the top of his head, and wound the braids around it, anchoring it securely in place. Then she pulled another, smaller strand in front of his ear and began to braid that, looser than the top braids. “Your Autumn braids at the sides,” she said softly. “And your Day crown on top. A prince who crosses borders and courts, who lived with the people no one else cares about. You know where you come from. And where you’re going.”

He went very still. Barely breathing. She tightened the last braid and tied it with the bright blue leather band he favored.

“Look at you,” she said, and her hands slid down to his shoulders. “My prince. Of sunshine and fire.”

He sat up straighter, until she handed him a mirror. “The braids could be better,” she said. “I’m working on it. But I’ll have it perfected before the presentation ceremony.”

He stared at himself in the mirror. In the crown. He’d never worn it before, and on his head, it seemed to stand taller, shine brighter, as if the gold soaked up his sunfire and stretched upward toward the source of the light itself. The gold spikes shot up above the braids, which were gleaming and, despite her self-deprecation, only slightly crooked. He was only a chiton and a cloth-of-gold scarf away from the full symbolic costume of the heir. She knew all the moments from before were weighing on him from the way the bond ached in her chest.

“I love you,” she said, hoping it was what he needed to hear, because it was the truth, in all its weight and simplicity. “I’m so proud of you.”

He grasped her hand and squeezed it; then angled the mirror to catch her face above his. “I could not be prouder of you. I couldn’t do any of this without you.” His voice was hoarse with emotion. “Do you know how much I love you? What you mean to me, Elain?”

She bent forward, her bronze-gold curls mingling with the remaining loose red locks around his shoulders.

“Yes,” she said, her smile brighter than the dawn. “I’m your new hairdresser.”

He burst out into a wet laugh. “I’m afraid it will only add to your burdens, my love.”

“I swore to bear them with you,” she said. He rose and pulled her to stand, the comb and the mirror dropping forgotten to the floor. “I meant it.”

His only answer was to wrap his arms around her again, as the first rays of the sun broke the horizon and struck the gold cupola atop the Sun Tower.

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this epilogue, the Baroness searches for hope.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Giles' Epilogue. Erridge's Epilogue. End. Words: 2,014. Rating: all audiences, apart from one swear.)

Epilogue: The Baroness

History often wrote of hope being found amongst the desolation of battlefields. But as her carriage neared Val Misrenne, the Baroness Touledy believed this to be little more than poetry.

The farmland she knew had been scorched beyond recognition. Trees were slaughtered where they stood. Homes, burnt to blackened timber. Homes she knew the occupants of.

Touledy warned herself to expect the same of the town. Worse, even. The gates approached, and all she could imagine waiting beyond them was nothing but emptiness, silence, and death.

The last thing she expected was to hear a child’s laughter.

Yet, by those very gates, a gaggle of children played. They recognised her carriage, and hurried to follow—singing, cheering, giggling. As children ought.

The streets beyond were no less vibrant. A washer-woman hung the day’s laundry. Masons scraped up fresh mortar. A hunter carried a brace of game. A bookseller swept out his porch. Precious vignettes of life.

Perhaps history was a poet, after all.

The Baroness’ little parade saw her escorted to the centre of town, and the grand Orlesian manor that stood there—tall and defiant as ever. Her home. Her hall. The heart of Val Misrenne.

Its gates were quite useless, for they were always open—and today was no different. Her carriage trundled through, halting only for those who criss-crossed the gravel road ahead. And there were many. The gardens of the hall had not seen such a hive of activity since the last fete!

The entire town was at work, it seemed. Logs were chopped, wicker woven, blankets mended. Any skill that could be afforded was given in service of the community.

And now the Baroness would give hers.

She alighted her carriage before the horses even came to a stop. Her call went out, to the first able-bodied workers she saw:

“You there, help unload these supplies! The flour is for the bakeries, and the food is to be distributed amongst those who need it most. Feed the sick, the elderly, and the young!”

Magnetised by her command, plenty complied. The many sacks she’d stuffed her carriage with were hauled up and out, passed along chains, loaded onto barrows for delivery. Fresh, shining apples were already within the hands of the children who’d welcomed her home.

Within her chest, the lingering pain of impotence began to alleviate its hold. So many had called her ‘Baroness’ during her absence, but it was not until this moment that she felt she truly worthy of the title. And yet, it seemed she was not the only deserving one. Someone had to be responsible for all this hubbub—and Touledy quite suspected she already knew who this other might be.

“Clarisse!”

Thallia.

She struck Touledy like an arrow, in a heart-piercing embrace. It took the full support of Touledy’s cane to save them from a fall.

“Thallia,” she breathed, “are you all right?”

“I’m alive,” muttered Thallia. She made a limp gesture at her continued existence. “That is the best I can say.”

“Then that is enough.”

Truly, to see her without wound or mar was all Touledy required. Thallia had a face too fresh and sweet to see war. Her blemished brown skin, noticeably short stature, and pouf of unruly curls all made her look remarkably adolescent.

(Especially to Touledy, who could not bear to admit that her dear little sister would ever age.)

But that appearance was deceptive, for Thallia possessed the wisdom and sense of a woman thrice her years—something that Val Misrenne had much reason to be grateful for. The life and activity that filled these gardens would not have manifested without it.

Though the Baroness could not help but note that, though plentiful, the crowds were not complete. “A memorial should be held, for the lost,” she muttered.

“Oh! There is, tomorrow,” Thallia told her. “We’re having it here, on the lawn. Nothing extravagant, though Lommy’s gathered us candles, and Aislee sewed a banner of the Inquisition, to raise in honour of what they did for us.”

The grass was a little overgrown for such usage, but it would have to do. “I should be glad to attend,” Touledy said.

“Yes. It’s fortunate you were able to return in time to do so.”

Not truly. Fortunate would have been returning in time to prevent the requirement for a memorial in the first place.

“What of those in need?” Touledy asked, an attempt to refocus herself. “Are there any without homes?”

“There are,” Thallia confessed. “Some have been taken in by family or neighbours.”

“Then I shall invite those who have not been provided for to stay within the hall until we find them permanent residence.”

There would be no part of her that she would not give to restore her people. Anything to repay the debt of what they had laid down in her absence.

“Oh,” said Thallia, “I already did.”

Touledy stopped, and stared.

“Sorry—we couldn’t wait for your permission,” Thallia explained. “I simply did what I thought you would do.”

“Oh.”

A child ran up. They held out a cup of lukewarm tea, complaining of the temperature. Thallia smiled, and laughed, and waved her hand over the cup with far more flourish than such a spell truthfully demanded. The drink was warm once more, and the grateful child skipped away.

Touledy chuckled. To say that Thallia had acted as she would was nothing more than flattery. For as much credit as Thallia would give her influence, Touledy knew better. Thallia possessed such great compassion and intelligence well before her arrival in Val Misrenne. Had she not, she never would have come.

In all of this, Thallia had not merely acted as she would. Thallia had acted as the Baroness of Val Misrenne would.

That difference mattered.

***

The words to describe the emotion she felt upon seeing Val Misrenne still standing were difficult to find—but Touledy had to find them. She would leave no detail of her relief out of her letter to Trevelyan.

She wrote this letter at her desk, in her personal study. The room was characterised by ceiling-high bookshelves, a small fireplace, and a large portrait of the Touledy family above it. All this might have made it stuffy, rather than cosy, if not for the tall, ornate windows that bestowed great light, and permitted such precious views of the town below.

But, being as her attention was caught upon these windows and the view they beheld, the Baroness did not quite notice the presence creeping up behind her.

“Who are you writing to?” asked Thallia.

Touledy startled. She shifted her hand, as if to aid herself in turning to face Thallia—and yet, her palm just so happened to conceal the name of the addressee.

“The Inquisition,” Touledy said, “to let them know that all is well—at least for now.”

Thallia hummed. “Didn’t you bring back a bird for that?”

“I did, but that is for emergencies. Besides, I should like the additional words, to be able to adequately express my gratitude for their intervention. Val Misrenne would not stand so tall were it not for their efforts.”

Thallia seemed to accept this answer well enough, and Touledy took to writing again. She renewed her quill with ink, and continued scribing a sentence from exactly where she’d left off.

“Who is the Arcanist Trevelyan?” Thallia asked.

With her hand departed to write, the name was laid bare—and Thallia had taken full opportunity to glimpse it. Cheeky thing! Touledy affectionately rolled her eyes.

“A friend within the Inquisition,” she answered.

“Oh?” The raise of her eyebrows could be heard in Thallia’s voice. “A ‘friend’?”

Touledy glanced up, to shoot her a look—but saw that Thallia had come to rest by the mantle, beneath the portrait of the Touledy family. The Baroness found her eyes lingering upon it.

“I wonder if you should not like to join the Inquisition yourself?” she muttered, returning to her writing. “A mage of your ability would have a bright future there, I am certain.”

“What?”

“The Arcanist herself is a formidable mage, and I am certain would accept you as an apprentice should I ask. You could achieve great things there.”

Thallia paused before responding: “Having seen what their Inquisitor is capable of, I am sure. But—why?”

Touledy downed her quill. “What do you mean?”

“Well—do you wish us to go?” wondered Thallia. “The mages, I mean. I would understand. I am sure we would be safer in the Inquisition, and Val Misrenne safer without us. If that is what you wish.”

“No, no—that is not at all what I meant. I simply wish that you be sure Val Misrenne is your future. The world is great and wide, and has remarkable opportunities for someone like you. I would not want you to stay out of service to anyone—living or dead.”

Her eyes could not help but trail to the portrait once more. To her father, regal and tall. Her mother, soft and wise. Her young self, sweet and bright. And her brother.

Ouen, frozen at the age he left. Perfectly preserved was the mismatch of his round face and fragile body. Those optimistic eyes shone through the paint, wide for the world they sought to change. But, if anything, the artist had truly captured his smile. Big and wonky. When she was a toddler, all he would have to do was smile, and she’d laugh.

Touledy hadn’t seen that smile since he departed.

“I understand,” muttered Thallia, her eyes also on the painting, her eyes also glistening. “But I like Val Misrenne. It’s my home. I wouldn’t have fought so hard for it if it weren’t.” She offered Touledy a smile. “Perhaps I could do great things in the Inquisition—but perhaps I could do great things here, too. I hope I do.”

“So do I,” said Touledy. She gripped her cane, and stood her full height. “Which… is why I wish to name you my heir.”

“What?”

Val Misrenne’s future had seemed so certain, in that family portrait. The Touledys were strong. And now, Clarisse Touledy was the only one left. That made them vulnerable.

Val Misrenne needed another.

“I am not invincible. These last months have proven that much. Should I fall, Val Misrenne requires one who will stand. And given I have no spouse and no children, it is only right that I name an heir. You have proven yourself a capable leader; I can think of none more suitable.”

“But—I’m a mage!” Thallia protested. “The Council of Heralds won’t like that.”

“The Council of Heralds can go fuck themselves.”

Her head shook. “I’m—not sure I could do it.”

“You already have.” Touledy gestured towards the window. Beyond the panes, the gardens bustled with the life that Thallia commanded. “These are the actions of a Baroness of Val Misrenne. You said so yourself.”

“You’d have to teach me everything you know.”

Touledy smiled. “Of course. I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. I shall have to occupy the time somehow.”

“And who knows,” Thallia joked, “you may produce a natural heir yet! Though this Commander didn’t turn out so well, there are more to be had. You speak well of that Arcanist, after all… is there not something there?”

Touledy’s eyes dipped away. Small wonder that, of all people, Thallia was the one to notice.

“She is a friend, and cannot be anything more,” murmured Touledy. “Should you wonder who the Commander chose...”

“Oh, dear. Then why not save her from that dullard?”

“Because she is happy, and deserves to be so.”

Thallia frowned. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Hardly.” Touledy snatched up her cane, and marched back to her desk. “Besides, I am not so down on my luck.” She took her seat, and slid across another leaf of vellum, quill poised to write. “Once all is settled here, I intend to visit Val Royeaux. There is an ex-fiance I wish to visit.”

Thallia raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”

“Oh, no.” Touledy laughed. “Someone else’s.”

[silvervrost]

Haunted From The Past : Chapter 1, Part 2

Title : Lilith Visiting

The next morning, Hunter's morning routine is the same, and he's ready to go to work today but he is bringing the journal to the museum. Hunter arrives at his workroom and begin doing his job like usual. Someone knocks on the door and catches Hunter's attention.

He answers, " come in, the door is unlocked. "

Lilith comes in holding a file upon noticing it, Hunter asks, " what have you got there, Ms. Clawthorne ? "

Lilith sighs and replies, " Hunter, can you just call me Lilith already? "

Hunter chuckles. " Sorry, but we are at work right now and I need to show you the respect you deserve. I can call you Lilith when we get out of work, deal? "

Lilith chuckles and nod. " Sure. "

Hunter smiles and asks again, " what's in the file, Ms. Clawthorne? It's not another report about the DeadWardian Balusters crafting design, is it? "

Hunter chuckles at his joke, but Lilith raises her right eyebrow and looks at Hunter. " No... and I thought you were curious about DeadWardian Balusters...or are you just... "

Hunter silence quickly, his body shaking a little before looking at her. " You're just acting curious because you want me to feel better about my research. Also because I helped you find this job and want to repay with acting, huh? "

Fire bursts on her back while she wears an unamused expression on her face that makes Hunter sweat. Suddenly, he stands away from his chair and raises his voice, stuttering " W-W-WAIT!! No!, No, no,.. I-...I was curious about Balusters, I swear to Titan. I am curious about that. Please believe me, Lilith!!"

****************************

Hunter is on his knees and Lilith is trying to get an honest answer from him, while she is sitting on his chair with her arm crossed. Hunter narrates to himself, " welp, this is happening and it's gonna take some time so let me tell you guys how Lilith and I got closer. Well, it started when she was trying to me get a job, show me around the museum, even helping me search for an apartment to stay in. She has been there with me for a long time. saying thank you is not enough to make this even."

Hunter sighs accidentally and Lilith's face gets angrier with her lips trying to smile and said, " so.. am I boring to you... Hunter ?"

Hunter looks at Lilith and replies, " w-what?..N-no, what makes you say that ? "

She says, " still trying to lie.., Hunter. Well, now you've earned another minute of kneeling " Hunter just nods his head. "...Yes".

Hunter is still thinking back about how he's gonna repay her for how many times she's helped him.

" I wish I could do better but for now, I want to get closer to her, to know her better and help her too. There was this time she got angry because I was working late since overtime paid well and I'm not good at taking care of myself. She also says I'm a cheap person because I'm paying for four things from the grocery store every four days but I'm trying to save some money to pay her back. She paid for three months for the apartment even though I refuse but she is still trying to act mature and pay it for me. Sometimes she comes to my apartment and brings some food just to have dinner with me. The reason is that she says I look tired or she sees me holding my stomach to ease the pain because I haven't eaten breakfast, lunch or maybe even dinner. "

Hunter smiles while looking at the floor and he said " Lilith might be the be-" his voice accidentally lower to a mumble. "-Best sister I've ever had."

Lilith hears something but can't exactly make out the words he says, and so she asks.

" Hunter did you say something? " Hunter replies with a stutter as a little blush form on his cheeks. "N-no, no I didn't say anything at all... So can you forgive me? "

He looks at Lilith while smiling. She sighs and says, " fine. I forgive you, were you truly be honest about what you just said? "

Hunter replies, " yes, I am curious about Balusters but not for awhile. I'm sorry for acting curious and all. "

Lilith places the file on the desk. " So, you want to know what is inside this file right? "

Hunter nods his head. He stands right behind her as she explains. Inside the file, there are very old pictures of her ancestors but because of dirt, that accumulated over time and the shade of the paint has gradually changed.

"Well, my mom told me the stories about my ancestors meeting a human-", Hunter's eyes wide as he clenches his hand "-and teaching them wild magic in savage times, but it's not that savage, trust me."

Hunter asks Lilith, "W-Wait...them ? you mean your ancestors met more than one person? "

Lilith replies, " Yes, but even my mother doesn't even know how many."

There are only a few pictures left, like the picture of the palisman, how to craft the palisman, and the seeds of the palisman tree. But he looks closer at the picture of the palisman. There are two palisman, though he can't tell what kind of palisman the second one is but he recognizes the other one. Hunter accidentally says, "....Flapjack ?".

The end of part 2

To be continued..

The credit for fixing this story grammar goes to @cml-17 , thank you again for helping me. I'm sorry if I disturbed your work.

I hope you readers can understand the story.

Thank you for reading.

Next Chapter:

[weaver-street]

Discover the Elegance: Weaver Street — The Best Banarasi Saree Shop in Varanasi

Varanasi, the spiritual heart of India, is not only renowned for its ancient temples and sacred ghats but also for its exquisite Banarasi sarees. Among the myriad of saree shops that adorn the streets of this historic city, one stands out as the epitome of elegance and tradition — Weaver Street. With its rich heritage, impeccable craftsmanship, and unparalleled collection, Weaver Street proudly holds the title of the Best Banarasi Saree Shop in Varanasi.

Nestled in the bustling lanes of Varanasi, Weaver Street exudes an aura of timeless charm. As you step into the shop, you are greeted by rows of shimmering silk sarees, each a masterpiece in its own right. The air is filled with the soft hum of handlooms, where skilled artisans painstakingly weave intricate patterns that have been passed down through generations.

What sets Weaver Street apart from other saree shops in Varanasi is its unwavering commitment to quality and authenticity. Every saree at Weaver Street is crafted using the finest silk and zari, sourced directly from the weavers of Varanasi. The result is a collection of sarees that not only dazzle the eyes but also stand the test of time, embodying the true essence of Banarasi craftsmanship.

But it’s not just the quality of the sarees that makes Weaver Street the best in Varanasi; it’s also the shopping experience itself. The staff at Weaver Street are not just salespeople; they are connoisseurs of Banarasi sarees, passionate about sharing their knowledge and expertise with every customer who walks through the door. Whether you’re a seasoned saree aficionado or a first-time buyer, they will guide you through the intricacies of Banarasi weaving, helping you find the perfect saree that complements your style and personality.

One of the highlights of shopping at Weaver Street is the sheer variety of sarees on offer. From traditional designs featuring intricate brocade work to contemporary styles with modern motifs, there’s something to suit every taste and occasion. Whether you’re looking for a bridal saree that will make you the star of the wedding or a classic piece that exudes timeless elegance, you’ll find it at Weaver Street, the Best Banarasi Saree Shop in Varanasi.

But perhaps the most enchanting aspect of Weaver Street is its role in preserving and promoting the rich heritage of Banarasi weaving. In an age where mass-produced sarees dominate the market, Weaver Street remains steadfast in its commitment to traditional craftsmanship. By supporting local weavers and artisans, Weaver Street not only ensures the survival of this ancient art form but also allows it to flourish, inspiring future generations to carry on the legacy of Banarasi sarees.

In conclusion, if you’re in search of the perfect Banarasi saree in Varanasi, look no further than Weaver Street. With its exquisite collection, impeccable quality, and unparalleled shopping experience, Weaver Street truly deserves its title as the Best Banarasi Saree Shop in Varanasi. So why wait? Embark on a journey of elegance and tradition at Weaver Street and discover the timeless beauty of Banarasi sarees.

[cosmica-galaxy]

Hello, first of all. Love your work ❤️

So I had a bit of an angsty though. What if during the events mc when when everything is fucked after Tricky high jacking the artifacts, that during him losing it but everything is still gone to hell. What if the player, hear me out. In order to restore the balance of the world(not completely tho). They have to do something like a hard reset to put things back in order. Aka, sacrifice themselves 👀

Like how it would be the alternate end to the it and depending on what happens, the player is sent back home or comes back shortly after permanently. (Still some madness going around, just not having hell above the world)

So for it being super long winded and I hope it makes sense 😅

HEHEHEHEH ANGST~~

+Set in Salty’s AU

+Player is Gender Neutral

~~

You couldn’t believe this was happening…

What had gone so wrong for the world of Nevada for it to end up like this?

After all your guidance, you still managed to screw up this badly. At first, it was with Deimos’s death, then Hank’s magnification and mutation, then Tricky acquiring the Keystone Fragment and improbability drives, and now…hell runs amok in Nevada.

Around your bruised and battered form lies your friends and allies. Each injured and near death as the fire of hell roars around you all. You look at the one that you used to call your friend too…Tricky.

Now demonic and mutated beyond recognition, with the artifacts and the power of the Auditor inside of his very being, he looks at you as if he doesn’t recognize you. The madness now runs so deep within him that his mind no longer operates properly.

He merely wants to kill you all…and he was slowly succeeding.

You pant and hold your injured arm, staring the demonic form of Tricky down as your remaining friends lay behind you. The only thing stopping Tricky from finishing them all off…is you standing between him and them, your iridescent strings binding his form.

You were already injured, and despite your strings barely holding the demonic entity back, you still stand before him in defiance. Protecting those that you have come to hold dear.

Your mind races as the skeletal demon tugs and snaps at the strings that bind him, desperate to get free so that he may finish the job.

What can you do to stop this…this…this madness? 

The world of Nevada was lost to the growing hellfires…and in the deepest parts of your bones, you can feel those in Nevada suffering. Some of the remaining living grunts even pray to you as they wish and cry out to be saved by someone…anyone.

All their pain…all their deaths…their last dying breaths…you can feel them all. You are in as much pain as the rest of the world…and Tricky, or what USED to be Tricky, needed to be stopped before he consumed the world.

You were always praised as a god by the local populace of Nevada. But as you stand here before the corrupted form of Tricky…you doubted that you deserved such a title.

How can you be a god…and not save anyone from this horrible calamity?

You could barely even save anyone…you failed Deimos.

You failed Nevada, you failed Tricky, and even the remaining of your own friends. You were a failure and you were alone on the cusp of deciding the fate for the entirety of Nevada.

But you couldn’t fail…only when you give up would Nevada truly be lost.

There had to be something you could do to combat this chaos…to restore order.

So as you endure the pain and the burning fires around you, you search for a way to fix things. Going through all your codes and your consoles, you search as quickly as you could…and you find something.

‘Hard Reset’.

The red string of code glows in warning as you read the title again and again.

That’s right…you could call to the hands of time…to turn back the clock and reset everything back to the way it was…whenever. Back to a simpler time before the madness grew to such straits. Before you lost Deimos, before Hank became a mag, before Tricky was lost to insanity, and before Nevada began to burn.

You always reset when you lost your vessels before…you could do it again.

You select the code in your console and a bright warning suddenly flashes up in your UI.

‘WARNING! Hard Resets results in the total erasure of save data and backups! Upon resetting, all progress will be lost and all values reset back to zero! Following user data will be deleted upon reset! Do you wish to continue? Y/N’

You take a moment to pause as the warning blinks brightly, obviously detailing the warning of triggering it. You take a second to reflect on your decision.

That’s right…a hard reset erases everything. Memories, unlockables, missions, choices, and achievements…and it may even erase you from existence.

All your friends will forget you. All the memories you made together will no longer exist. You weren’t even sure if you were going to make it out of this…but what else could you do?

Tricky was too powerful…and their world was burning.

Would you risk your own existence if it meant that your friends could live again? Would you give everything for Nevada, a place that wasn’t even your home dimension? Did you love them all that much?

You merely let out a slight huff of a laugh.

Of course you did.

You love all of your vessels. If that meant that you can give them another chance to live again and find a happier ending…you would gladly give them that chance. Even if it meant that you would no longer be a part of their lives. Even if it meant you would no longer be a part of Nevada.

Without a second more of hesitation, you select the code and enter ‘Y’ into the console.

The world suddenly blinks red and you feel yourself beginning to glow. The code that you selected bursting from your body, strand after strand, each ascending into the sky.

You hear someone call out for you and you turn to look over your shoulder.

Seeing 2B painfully trying to pick himself up as the others try to do the same. Despite their grave injuries, they still attempt to stand as they fumble and fall over.

The light pouring from your chest continues to build in intensity as your body begins to destabilize, the other looking on in horror as Tricky hisses at the intense light that radiates from your body.

“What did you do?! What’s going on?!?” You hear 2B shout out to you.

You could only smile and try to hold back tears as your body begins to burn and more codes are executed from your glitching console.

“Fixing Nevada.” You say simply.

“What?! What do you mean?!! Player, what’s happening to you??” 2B continues to yell from behind you as your strings all become white hot and start to burn into Tricky, causing him to roar in pain.

“I…I’m fixing Nevada. I’m going to give you all another chance.” You explain, ignoring how the burning in your chest intensifies as the light gets brighter and brighter.

“I’m doing my duty as a ‘god’. I’m answering the prayers of Nevadeans. I’m saving the world. But…I won’t be there to celebrate with you all. Not in body…and not in memory.” You continue.

“What the fuck?? What…what’s going on??” Sanford grunts out from his place nearby as 2B continues to try and stand, his weak legs barely holding him up.

“Player! Stop! We can defeat Tricky, just let us get back up! Instantheal us!” 2B cries out, almost like he was losing his composure.

“I’m sorry, 2B. But Nevada is lost. If we did defeat Tricky…the world would be nothing but ash. I have to do this. I’m going to make this all seem like it’s just some horrible dream.”

You look over your shoulder towards your collapsed vessels. Tears freely running down your face as you give them a broken smile and try your best not to sob.

“Don’t worry. It’s all going to be okay. I promise. Deimos will be here, Hank will be himself, Tricky will be back to his own brand of normal, and Nevada will be okay. Even if you forget me…I won’t forget you all.”

You allow your tears to freely fall as the burning in your chest grows unbearable.

“I love you all and thank you for such a memorable adventure. I’ll do better next time.”

You see all your vessels struggle to get off the ground as they try to approach you, despite the bright light that is now breaking through your form.

“Player, no! Wait!”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?”

“Stop!”

You hear them all say, but your progress bar suddenly fills and you could only wave at them in a sorrowful way as the light consumes your body.

“GoodbyeeeeeeaaaaAAAAAGGGHAAAAAHH!!” You scream as your farewell changes into a burning shrill wail as the light completely consumes your body and begins to engulf all that surrounds you.

Causing all the remaining vessels to wince and flinch at the intense heat and Tricky to roar as he melts from the volume of light that burns into his body.

The light continues to expand, slowly taking in all of Nevada as the world falls apart. Consuming every last inch of the world into a pristine white glowing void.

Then there’s the sudden echoing sound of something shattering that resonates throughout the entirety of the white void…

And then 2B wakes up.

He sits up in a thick layer of cold sweat, looking around himself and finding a familiar room laid out before him. He lets out a groan as he sits up on a familiar lumpy couch, his head having a massive headache for some reason.

He hears the sound of movement ringing throughout the base which piques his interest.

He gets up and leaves his messy and dingy room behind as he walks into the living area of their make-shift temporary base.

In the room, he sees Hank sitting on the couch watching Slaughter Time, Sanford messing about in the kitchen area, and Deimos polishing up their weapons and guns. For some reason…2B felt a sense of relief come over him when he laid eyes on Deimos.

Maybe it was from that bad dream he had? What was that dream about again…he was…somewhere. There was something very bad going on…and then there was light.

He remembers reaching for someone…but he doesn’t remember who.

2B feels his head hurt again as he tries to think about what happened, but nothing comes to mind. No matter how hard he tries to tell himself.

And the more he stared at the other three in the living room…the more off something made him feel. Like…he was pretty sure that this was his entire team. Who else could he be missing?

Wasn’t there always just three coworkers?

The frustration and confusion he was feeling only seemed to make him upset.

So, he ignores the other three grunts and walks into the area that served as his research station. Sitting down and typing entries on his computers and tablets. Trying to see where he left off from work…but something notable catches his eye.

Something that invokes a feeling of deja vu.

There was an entry that was left open on his screen…and it seemed to be talking about a powerful being that the Auditor was getting into contact with called ‘The Player’.

Player….Player….Player…

Why…

Why did that sound so familiar…?

And why doesn’t he remember typing this entry?

. . .

Something was wrong.

[athyathye]

for requests... this girl that gets up close with the bf only to drag him away to threaten him and tell him how much more the reader deserves and that he should break up with reader so reader can be with her.... and then she comes back and starts flirting with the reader while the readers here like 'lol get wrecked' to her bf but also 'no thanks i like my bf thanks for the compliments tho' with ran rindou sanzu and wakasa :0 tyyyy <3 take care of urself :0

Sneaky Link

Author's note 📝: Reminder that maximum number of characters in a request is 3, thank you for requesting~!

Warnings ⚠️: yeaaaah~ regular curse words!

(Rindou, Ran and Sanzu)

Rindou :

❥ Flabbergasted would be an understatement, mans was bamboozled!

❥ It was an outcome he never would have thought of, let alone experienced.

❥ He was sure things like that could only happen to his older brother who was the equivalent of a salivating dog.

❥ Rindou knew you could pull even the harshest men on the planet. Him being a perfect example. But he wouldn’t have thought that a person would be able to stand straight against him for you, let alone a girl.

❥ Call him sexist, but he had never seen a woman so fierce and…idiotically brave to look at him straight in the face and claim she likes you, HIS girlfriend.

“...What?” Rindou had to make sure he heard correctly, if his ears weren’t betraying him like his face was.

“You heard me. You’re not worth y/n. She deserves better!” The woman was in hysterics, perhaps it was true that love could make one crazy. “She deserves me!” She pulled at the younger Haitani’s collar which greatly shocked him.

“Hey, I don’t know what kind of intimidation tactic this is, but it sure as hell ain’t working…you better back off before I do something I’d regret-”

“The only thing you’ll ever regret is not giving her to me! Why should she-”

“Is there a problem here?” A familiar voice dripping with sweet saccharin cut the conversation. Both people’s attention were redirected towards you who was leaning on the doorframe with a troubled look.

“Not at all, Cutie! Rindou over here was just ranting on how much he thought he didn’t deserve you, and I was reassuring him he definitely was! …N’t” She gazed away from your suspicious glance.

“Hold on, I was what now?” Rindou truly believed he went through whiplash because how in the hell-

“Ha? Rindou? Again baby? I thought I made you stop thinking so negatively about yourself” You pouted as if disappointed.

“I said wait! Wha-”

“You know what? We’re going to have a long talk.” You pulled on his dress shirt, dragging him with you as you searched for the exit, Rindou turned around.

The woman behind him was smiling so…viciously. Her mouth opened, the shape of her mouth was all he could focus on. Deciphering what her lips read he gulped. ‘Women are definitely scary...'

Ran :

❥ Utterly confused and humiliated.

❥ Arrows shot bullseye to the heart, face burning hot both in anger and embarrassment, eyes seeing red but doesn’t dare to make a move.

❥ It was a first for Ran Haitani to get humbled so bad that he had to sit in a chair to calm himself down. 

❥ With his reputation, no one would ever doubt that he would be a ‘chick magnet’. He was proud of that title but was willing to lose it once you came around.

❥ He thought of the girl that tried to lure him to be one of those that were shameless, as shameless as he used to. But perhaps, he should’ve never doubted the power of your charm.

“You here alone?” A seductive voice belonging to a seductive beauty. Ran was an expert in the appearances of the opposite gender. He knew a jewel once he saw one, part of the reason why he never wanted to let you go. To him beauty equaled status, both in men and women but in different categories. 

Women flocked him left and right even if he wasn’t a bachelor anymore, he was never going to admit it to you but those experiences boosted his ego to the point where he believed himself to be one of the most desirable men in their area.

“Why? You gonna buy me a drink?” He flirted back. If people were willing to entertain and suck themselves dry in order to please him, then by all means he would let them.

“Ha ha, no. On the contrary, I’m here to issue a warning.” The woman looked too proud and confident to be making a joke. Ran raised an eyebrow, letting the sly expression on his face fade in not longer than a second.

“Who sent you?” Was all he said, taking the statement as a declaration of war against his gang. On high-alert and ready to call back up as soon as the conversation was over.

“The pride of a woman in love.” ‘The hell? Is this b*tch playing with me? Or is she insane?’ Ran couldn’t figure out her motives. 

“Break up with y/n.” 

“Yup, definitely insane.” Ran turned to leave, discomfort painting his face.

“The insane one here is you thinking you had a chance with her! Wake up, Haitani! You don’t deserve her! Not you nor your little junior!” 

If anger and embarrassment mixed together could be in a physical form, it would be Ran's face right now. The fact that she had shouted that in the middle of the party meant everybody heard it. And he wasn’t one to be embarrassed by stuff like that, but the woman had already got under his skin by saying your name.

“Haha, Hate to break it to you. But I actually like him. Little junior and all. Thank you for the compliment though!” Why would you say that!? And why the hell did you look so ecstatic!? Nothing made sense in Ran’s mind.

All he knew was that he suffered and had been defeated that night. And he didn’t think he could show his face for the next few days.

Sanzu:

❥ She was a friend. And that was the only reason she could get away with everything that had happened.

❥ All Sanzu could do was grit his teeth because he wasn’t high enough to excuse what could have been his next actions on the booze.

❥ It wasn’t that Sanzu was possessive. But he truly believed that maybe locking you up in a closet would make way less trouble for him. People wouldn’t be falling for you left and right, and only he could witness the sight of your beauty.

❥ He was already a madman to begin with, doing that would have not added to the already messed up life he lead. The only thing stopping him was the fact that even if he wanted to mess everything in his life, he could never mess you.

❥ So when the threats of another person taking you filled his mind, he never bothered with it because she was your friend. But there was a limit to where his patience stood, and it was never long to begin with.

If only the crude words of “F*ck off!” could leave Sanzu’s lips right now. He had to hold himself back from causing a rampage in his very own home as he watched another girl present herself like a feast to his oblivious girlfriend.

Sanzu thought of your cluelessness as an adorable feature of yours, but as of this moment all he could do was loathe it. Watching as the woman who had incurable feelings for you feed you strawberries dipped in white chocolate.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom.” you excused yourself which left both Sanzu and your friend to do whatever they want in your absence.

“You look so hideous that I want to retch everytime I see you.”

“You’re not so pretty yourself.” Sanzu replied on his spot on the couch. “Two-faced b*tch” He mumbled as he ignored the imaginary snake fangs wanting desperately to bite him.

“I don’t even know what y/n sees in a good-for-nothing man like you-”

“Yeah? Well you stink! Everything about you stinks that even now I can’t breathe with you around!”  Sanzu’s patience thinned, he was genuinely considering how to hide her body.

“Ehem, are you both done?” you entered the room once more. Trying to hide the smile that was threatening to plaster on your face.

“Sorry, f/n. I think you should go home for today. I had fun though!”

“Awwe, anything for you y/n!” You escorted her out. Once back in the living room with both of you alone. It was Sanzu who broke the silence.

“Are you having fun?”

“To be honest, yeah.” The laugh you had let out was what relieved Sanzu’s burning urge to kill. “It was always me who got jealous so at least now you feel me.”

“Alright alright. I won’t do anything anymore- So just until when are you gonna keep her around?”

“Probably for a while. I’m quite fond of her.” Both of you were mad.

[hansolmates]

champagne lane | 06

banner made by the iconic @dnrequests​ / @dee-ehn​

summary; you and jungkook have your own little celebration by the lake pairing; dilf!jk x best friend!reader (f) genre/warnings; angst, longing, pining, mc is a homebody, unrequited love (or is it?), potential idiots 2 lovers, best friends 2 lovers, mentions of sex, alcohol use, profanity w/c; 1.4k a/n; yes im excited to say part one is done! as i was thinking of the title i was like “wow this really sounds like mc and jk had s*x” but they not tehy’re not omg >_< also i know that sometimes it feels like things are omitted with sena/jk’s drama and whatnot, but i think that’s the fun of it since it’s a drabble series! you can envision and put the pieces n’clues together to see how far severe their relationship is. part 2 will start on tuesday, enjoy your weekend!  [day by day masterpost]

A little beacon in the moonlight, Jungkook watches you curl up by the lake, your head popping up right where the moon leaps over the water. Making sure the baby monitor is connected up and running to the guest bedroom, he sneaks around the kitchen island, on a mission to find his peace offering. 

“You literally ran the party from top to bottom, why the hell are you still up?” 

You look up from the little nest you’ve created in the outdoor patio glider, and Jungkook holds up a chilled wine bottle and two champagne glasses. 

Holding up your phone you reply, “I just got off the phone with a cousin of mine. Figured I’d enjoy the view for a few minutes before heading off, but a nightcap won’t hurt.” 

Jungkook carefully pours the amber liquid in each of your glasses, making sure the bubbles don’t overflow at the lip. He sits gently on the swing, making sure not to jostle the two of you. Gently brushing his fingers to yours to hand you your drink, he gestures to his glass so they clink together softly. 

He watches as your body curls underneath the blanket you brought, feet disappearing and brushing against his thighs. Planting one foot on the soft grass, Jungkook gently swings the both of you into a soft rhythm. 

“So, did you like the party?” 

“Of course, I’ll never forget it,” Jungkook smacks his lips together, enjoying the warmth the sweet liquid brings to his face, “did you?” 

Jungkook genuinely hopes you had a good time. Everytime Haru smiled, tried something new, jumped like a maniac in the bounce house, Jungkook would turn around half-expecting you to be there and share the moment. Sena was there, and his parents were there, which was also great. But it was you that searched town to search for all the new desserts Haru would like, you that booked the bounce house, you that made Haru so happy on her special day. 

“Yeah, I’m happy no one poked the bounce house with those lamb skewers,” you relax against the swing, kicking your bare legs. “Would kill us if we didn’t get that security deposit back.” 

“I felt like I had a little too much fun,” Jungkook scrunches his nose, eyes clinging to the beautiful reflection of the moon-filled lake, “you did way too much work, you know that?” 

You continue to swing your legs mindlessly, “You had a crazy year. You deserved to be happy with your daughter on her first birthday.” 

He doesn’t understand how you could downplay how awesome you are. Amazing, completely. Even dressed down in a ratty old college t-shirt and shorts, you still are a dynamite human. 

“So, where’s Sena?” 

He almost forgets about the events that conspired not two hours ago. He slumps forward, his shoulders feeling heavy as he reflects on his last conversation with Sena. 

“She left,” Jungkook shrugs, swirling the honey in his glass, “got a call from her manager and took the first flight out of here. I think it’s decided,” Jungkook affirms, “she’s not coming back.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” and you truly sound sorry. You put your finished glass down on the ground, and you reach over to put your free hand over his, “I know how much you wanted this to work,” you bite your lip nervously, “and I may have told her off today at the party. So it could be partially my fault.”

This interests Jungkook greatly. He raises a brow, running a hand through his dark chocolate tresses. “You, telling someone off? And I had to miss that?” 

"It was probably for the best," you rub your neck sheepishly, lowering your head, "I just told her that if she wants to be part of you and Haru's life, she needs to be all in or all out. I'm sorry if that's overstepping—”

“You’re my backbone,” Jungkook slices through your rambling, pointedly looking at you and hoping you'd reach his eyes. 

“It’s just one party, Kook. No big deal—”

“No, you’ve always been my backbone, you know that?” Jungkook says, tone serious, “I know, it’d be selfish for me to expect that you’ll be around forever. I thought maybe you'd be around for a week after I called you, but twelve months later for some reason you're still coming around," he chuckles, "but honestly? I wouldn't have wanted to do this with anyone but you, including Sena." 

"Kook, you don't mean that—”

He squeezes your hand purposefully, "I do. Even if I date and find someone new, I still want you to be a part of Haru's life. Thank you so much, for taking care of her." 

"Oh Jungkook," you lean your head on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist. The warmth of your skin seeps between his sweatshirt, and he subconsciously tenses at the intimacy, "you know that I'm not doing it just for Haru. I'm doing it because I care about you too." 

"Fuck, don't make me cry," he half jokes, but he's thankful you're looking at the moon because he does feel his eyes grow wet. He shoves his cheek against the crown of your head, relishing in your touch. Of course, the intuitive person you are, you squeeze tighter around his body when you sense his need for affection, "so, we're good?" 

"Yeah, we're good." 

The two of you relax against each other's warmth, silently admiring the beautiful night. The stars manage to seep its way through the navy blanket in the countryside, illuminating the backyard with speckles of glitter. Jungkook doesn't know how long he sits there, swinging lightly with you. 

A familiar ring tone startles the both of you apart, recognizing the familiar chime coming from the baby monitor app. 

"It's Haru," he gets up, grabbing empty glasses and wine, "probably needs a change or something." 

"Oh, can I please do it?" despite being tired through your bones and muscles, you pop out eagerly and follow him inside, "I barely saw her today."

Jungkook smiles fondly, "Of course." 

The both of you pad barefooted into Namjoon's house, careful not to wake up the other guests. In Jungkook's bed, there's a pillow fence casing Haru around the perimeter of the mattress, making sure she doesn't fall off. 

She isn't crying or anything, just awake. She kicks and swings her body around like a starfish, suddenly interested in the lace trim blanket that looks transparent around her ankles. 

"Hello bubby," you whisper excitedly, using the rocker on the wall to bathe the room in a low yellow light. 

You don't think twice, scooping Haru in your arms spinning slowly around the room. You do all the checks, running your fingers over her onesie for any drool or sweat, you pinch her diaper to see if it needs to be changed, and most importantly, you give her a little kiss in greeting. 

"Bu bu," Haru says, a big smile on her face, “Mama!” 

He watches from the doorhenge, as if he's intruding on a moment. Jungkook half-expects you to correct her. He watches your expression carefully, ready to take Haru away from you if need be. 

But instead you snuggle her tighter and murmur, "Yeah, I'm here." 

bonus. 

For some inexplicable reason, Jungkook is still awake. You’ve occupied his guest room, snuggling with Haru. The bed is big enough for the three of you, but he’s still plagued with thoughts, caught by how picturesque the two of you looked, warm and comfortable. 

“Yo,” Yoongi is sleeping on the couch, dressed in only his boxers and an oversized sweatshirt. He stumbles into the kitchen, reaching for the water container and a plastic cup. 

Jungkook watches Yoongi pad through the island, as if he’s walking through molasses, thick with sleep. He’s gotten to know Yoongi more closely up until Sena left during her first visit, not intentionally, only because whenever he invited you, Yoongi attached himself at the hip. 

Jungkook supposes Yoongi is a good guy, even after the heartbreak in college. He still holds a minor vendetta to that for hurting you, but since you’re all smiles and laughs he supposes he can call it a truce. 

Yet his bittersweet thoughts materialize without a second thought, “Are you and her dating?” 

Yoongi doesn’t miss a beat, chuckles as he wipes his lips with the back of his hand, “No.” 

“Oh, are you planning to ask her out?” 

“Nah.” 

“Why not,” Jungkook’s face falls, so much with disdain Yoongi fights the urge to reel back, “she’s a great woman. Any guy or girl would be lucky to have her.”

“Yeah, but not the woman for me.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“You’ll figure it out.”

[sinnaminsuga]

(GIF was sent to me by a friend so i'm not sure of the owner! if it's you let me know so i can credit you!)

Title: Be Gentle With Him

Summary: just some soft geralt. he deserves the world.

Word Count: 1,130

A/N: hello! this idea just popped up in my head and the lovely @wendimydarling encouraged me to write it out! wendi i cant thank you enough for being so sweet to me and always being there for whatever dumb questions i have 😂💕

Tags: @killjoy-assbutt-1112 @infinite-shite @inlovewithhisblueeyes @october505 @hope-to-hell @littlefreya @viking-raider @the-soot-sprite @raspberrydreamclouds @thelastsock @connieisland @nuggsmum @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @foodieforthoughts @geek-eat-repeat @oddsnendsfanfics @oddduckthatgirl @feralrunaway @its--fandom--darling @madbaddic7ed

(if i missed you let me know or if you want to be removed also let me know! ☺️💛)

This hunt had been particularly grueling. I knew by the way Geralt had come limping to my front door in much worse shape than when he’d left. Seeing him in such a state threw me into nurture mode and I pulled the large man through the door of my cottage just as I had many times before. Silently Geralt slumped into a chair at my kitchen table as I began to fix him a proper meal while also collecting the things I’d need to soothe whatever ailments he most likely had brought home with him.

After he was fed and mended, I drew a bath. There was no doubt that his muscles were sore and tired, the man was a monster hunter for god's sake. Swinging a sword around and dancing with death every day took a toll on his body no matter how much Geralt wouldn't admit it. I searched through my cabinets of herbs, potions, and elixirs to find the right combination. I began adding my collection of items to a bowl, under the watchful gaze of the witcher. Almond, chamomile, and lavender oils joined dried calendula and rose petals in the bowl. After adding a dash of red clover blossoms, I made my way back to the tub to turn off the faucet. I retrieved the bowl and scattered its contents into the water, the inviting scent eventually taking over the room.

Geralt sat in the corner, still silent, but observing. Once the bath preparation was finished I made my way to him and slowly started ridding him of his clothing, and he just let me. When he was fully undressed, I removed my own clothing and stepped into the tub, motioning for him to join me. I sat with him between my legs, and began gently washing his broad body. He hummed every now and then as the cloth travelled over his skin and I found myself smiling a little, happy that he was finally letting me take care of him. I scrubbed his scalp and hair with a mixture I’d concocted, effectively stripping the dirt and grime from him.

When I'd finished cleaning Geralt I tugged him back to lay against my chest. He needed to rest and I was determined to help him. We layed there in the steaming water, my hands tracing his shoulders and digging into the muscles of his strong neck every so often, peppering soft kisses over his exposed skin and now clean hair. Suddenly his breathing became uneven and his shoulders slumped against me. I softly tilted his head so I could see his face and that's when I saw. He was crying. Geralt of Rivia, the mighty White Wolf, the Butcher of Blaviken, was crying in my arms. The offending briny liquid slipped down his cheeks in what seemed to be a constant flow and he attempted to tear his amber gaze away from my face, but I wasn't having it. “Geralt, sweetheart, speak to me.” I said landing a kiss to his forehead.

“It seems to be becoming increasingly more difficult to leave you, little dove.” He spoke quietly. “And I know I must go. I have to provide for you somehow. But my heart longs to be here, with you. And it's making me clumsy. I’m so wrapped up in thoughts of you and my desire to return home, that I miss things. I never miss things, little dove. Never. I let a monster get the drop on me because I was too busy planning my route home. I don't think I can keep doing it. But then I think “what use would she have for me if I was around all the time?”. You’ll grow tired of me dove, I know you will. And then what? What's this old witcher to do then hmm?” He finished speaking and sniffed a few times before attempting to turn away again.

Bracing my hands on both sides of his face, I forced Geralt to look at me again. “Now you listen here good sir. I will never grow tired of you. Never. Do you know how many nights I've spent laying awake, wishing you weren't out there in harm's way? How much I wished you would return home days early?” I said, fingertips brushing over his cheek. “You don't have to do this Geralt. I’d take you as a monster hunter or a farmer or a stableman. It doesn't matter to me. We’ll find a way to get by no matter what you choose to do. Your mother stole that choice from you long ago and I won't be involved in doing that to you for a second time. You can be whatever you want. As long as you're mine.” I whispered into his hair. “Come now. The water is getting cold.” I said, moving to extract us both from the now tepid water.

The conversation in the bath seemed to be cathartic for Geralt and he was in a much better mood, teasing me as I dressed and tickling me whenever I passed by him. “Would you mind doing something about this, little dove?” He asked shyly, a small smile gracing his beautiful face as he gestured to his fresh clean hair. I nodded emphatically and grabbed a brush and some small thin leather strips from my drawer, then made myself comfortable on the bed while directing Geralt to sit on the bench at the foot of the bed. He grabbed a book from my shelf and made himself comfortable. “Read to me Geralt.”

I started slowly and gently detangling his long hair. Parting it down the middle, I listened as his voice rumbled out the words from the book in his big hands. I couldn't help but marvel at his hair, it truly was beautiful. Soft and silky, it slipped through my fingers like rays of moonlight. The more I toyed with the strands, the more I could feel him leaning into my touch, happy and comfortable. I continued to part and weave his hair into two wide braids, tying off the ends with the leather strips. A few wispy pieces too short to stay anchored within the braids, framed his face and curled around his ears. I slid out from behind him and knelt between his open legs, my hands holding his cheeks. “So beautiful. Truly.” I whispered as my eyes roamed his face, meticulously committing the sight of his blushing cheeks and wide smile to my memory. Before I could do anything else, Geralt pulled me up from my kneeling position and cradled me in his lap.

“You make me want to be a softer man little dove. A kinder man. I think that is what I shall become. A better man. For you.”

THE END

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Just A Natural Fact

Request: hii I was wondering if I could request a marauders sirius black x reader where sirius black, the reckless & loud marauder, has a soft spot for the kind & responsible reader. sirius' duality is thus teased by sirius' best friends until they too get to know her throughout the school years; amidst the slow-burn flirting & maturity, the rest of the marauders realize the the two of them balance each other perfectly & they too appreciate the reader's character & love for sirius. thx if you can! ♡ - @thisismiku​

A/N: Title - Paula Abdul - Opposites Attract. Thank you so much for sending in this request, I truly hope you like it and that I’ve done it justice. And I hope you don't mind but I’ve combined with my prompt for @dreamer821​ ‘s writing challenge. Congratulations, JJ - you deserve all 500 followers and more! The prompt I used is in bold! I’m feeling a little insecure about this fic if I’m being honest, I’m worried that it isn't the best that it could be so I’m so sorry if it isn't! Nevertheless, I do hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, immaturity, slow burn flirting/romance, sneaking out, fluff, bit of angst (but not a lot), use of she/her pronouns

Word count: 3.9k

First year:

It was hard not to miss the way Sirius Black climbed the stairs in the Great Hall to be sorted into his house.

It was hard not to miss the silence from his relatives at the Slytherin table when instead of Salazar’s house, he was sorted to into Godric’s.

Your sorting is over relatively quickly. Sorted into Gryffindor, you make your way to the table, sitting yourself next to the now silent Sirius Black. He picks at the food on his plate, not focused on the rest of the sorting until three boys he must recognise from the train, all sit with him.

“Are you okay?” You whisper. Glancing to your right, you see him nod once before plastering a smile across his young face, greeting the boys now sat with you.

They spend their first meal at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry laughing and joking as if they’re old friends catching up. You spend your first meal at the school silently worried for the boy next to you; wondering about the reaction from his parents.

From the sound of his laughter so close to your ear, it seemed that he was to make himself known to the house and your year group.

Sirius Black was very much your opposite in more ways than one. It would be a miracle if a friendship was formed.

Second year:

You begin to notice a pattern with Sirius Orion Black. He had made himself known already for being the class clown and prankster; acting aloof and reckless in the halls. He and his tight-knit group of friends had their targets for their pranks.

His personality was amped up to the maximum whenever he received a letter over breakfast. It didn’t happen often; once a month and you knew that it was from his parents. For a moment after reading, he would watch the table in silence, taking in the words that were no doubt written to hurt.

Then his head would snap up; a wide grin forming, and you knew that the following week would be full of mayhem and the screams of students on the unfortunate end of their pranks.

Second Year continues much the same as the first. You’re determined to do well in your exams; you stick to your timetable and ensure that you’re ahead on assignments. You’ve settled into your friendship group well, though they would admit that they often worry how much time you spend in the library.

However, it has helped, by the end of Second Year, you’re tutoring others in Potions and Charms. It all goes on your transcripts, but you’re happy to help in any way you can.

But despite all of that, you wonder if you could help the young, long-haired Marauder.

Third year:

Third Year begins much the same as your Second. You settle back into your academic routine after taking the summer off to enjoy the sun and relax with your family and friends where every so often, your thoughts drifted to long-haired boy who garnered attention as if it was going out of fashion.

A change in seating plan has you sat next to Sirius Black in History of Magic. Professor Binns changes the seating plan at the beginning of every year to keep with school policy, but he never truly enforces them so it’s odd that Sirius chooses to remain in his spot next to you.

You try not to think too much of it; focusing on the work each lesson, quill scratching away at your parchment as you note down facts on the Goblin Rebellions of the seventeenth century.

Sirius focuses for a while as well; making the odd note here and there until a wad of paper hits his face. Thrown by his friend James Potter, no doubt, as you hear his laughter from across the room. Sirius loses all focus then; instead, throwing the ball of paper between his hands for a minute before launching it back across the classroom.

It continues like that for most of the lesson, until the ball of paper is caught by Remus Lupin who smacks James on the shoulder. Remus doesn’t say anything, he rolls his eyes at James’ hurt expression before returning to his work.

A quiet voice interrupts your watching of the scene, “I hope we didn’t distract you.”

You respond just as quietly, “You didn’t.”

He smiles, “Good. I’d hate to pull you from your notes.”

From there, Sirius spoke to you more often. Greeting you in the Great Hall every morning, grabbing your attention in class. The Marauders would chuckle at him; not understanding his sudden need to be around you.

Every morning in the Great Hall, Sirius would receive a swift elbow to the ribs from James who would nod towards the entrance where you would linger for a moment before walking to your seat at the table. “You can relax now, Sirius. (Y/N) is here.”

Sirius’ head would snap up at the mention of your name. He smiles at you as you take your seat among your friends. One of your friends nudges your side, pointing down to where Sirius sits, whispering something in your ear. You roll your eyes at her before waving to Sirius.

A slow friendship begins to emerge; he’d seek you out in the library, sitting with you quietly as you studied. You would search him out in every class you shared, catching his eye with a smile which he returned toothily.

The friendship was new; you were still getting to know each other. The time you spent together was filled with whispered conversation about childhoods and hobbies. He’d sit and listen to your stories with a smile on his face; happy to get to know you inside out. There was something so inherently good about you – he felt drawn to your nature.

Remus approaches Sirius in the Gryffindor common room one evening. He couldn’t understand why Sirius had sought you out to be friends. You were both so different; Sirius was hurtling down the route of becoming the school’s bad boy – all leather jackets and smoking by the Black Lake. You were the epitome of kindness walking down the straight path of good grades and heading towards being appointed Head Girl.

Remus sits next to Sirius on the couch, saying, “(Y/N) is a good person, Sirius; she’s kind and responsible.”

“I know that. What are you saying Moony?” Sirius asks, an eyebrow raised.

“I just want you to be careful.”

“I’m not going to hurt, (Y/N), Remus. I want to be her friend.”

“I can’t help but be concerned. You’re so different, Padfoot. You see that right?”

“I do, but that’s why we’re going to work.”

Fourth year:

From the beginning of fourth year, your friendship with the Marauders began in earnest. Your social groups blended into one, and you didn’t feel as intimated by them all as you once did. They weren’t as wary as they once were; they weren’t as worried as they once voiced to Sirius. You spent more and more time with Sirius; your kindness had earned you his trust and his walls slowly began to crumble. There was something so open about your face and so kind in your touch that he couldn’t help but fall under your spell.

--------

A hand on your shoulder drags you from your dream. Before you can scream, a hand covers your mouth and a familiar voice whispers, “Lumos.”

In the pale light from the wand, Sirius’ grey eyes meet yours. They’re red-rimmed, but he has a small smile on his face. He pulls his hand away from your mouth, whispering, “Come with me.”

You shake your head, replying just as quiet, “Sirius, it’s three in the morning.”

His shoulders shake with silent laughter, “Live a little, (Y/N).” He stands at the side of your bed, holding a hand out to you, “Come with me… please.”

And there is something so vulnerable in his expression that you take his hand, grabbing your jumper and pushing your feet into your slippers.

In the light of the common room, Sirius looks over your outfit, snickering at the sight of your bunny slippers. You glare at him, tapping your feet, “They’re my favourite slippers, Black. They’re called Norman and Leonard; I expect you to be respectful.”

Sirius covers his mouth with his free hand for his other one had not let you go yet. He stifles a laugh, “I’m sorry, I won’t laugh again. They’re very lovely.” His voice breaks on the last word, and you rip your hand from his.

“Sirius, I don’t sneak out, so if you woke me up to make fun of me then I’m going back to bed.”

“No, wait,” He reaches for your hand again; happiness flows through him when you let him take it, “Come with me please, I can’t sleep.”

“You promise not to make fun? I don’t do this, Sirius. I follow the rules for a reason.”

“I know but trust me on this.”

Sirius doesn’t let go of your hand as he leads you through the portrait hole and through the school to the astronomy tower. You have to walk faster to keep up with his long strides but keep up you do.

He doesn’t let go of your hand upon arriving at the astronomy tower; neither does he let go of it once he sits on the cold, concrete floor, pulling you down to sit next to him.

The coldness of the floor seeps through your thin cotton pyjamas. You shiver from the feel of it. Sirius doesn’t miss this; he’s shrugging off his jacket before your teeth can start chattering.

“Here, take this.”

You’re enveloped in his jacket; the sleeves far too long for your arms to fit comfortably. You wrap it around yourself, enjoying the residual warmth left over from his body but also committing to memory the smell that is so distinctly him: leather, cinnamon, cloves and a hint of tobacco.

You knock your foot against his leg, “What’s the matter?”

“What makes you think something is the matter?”

“It’s not like you to drag me out of bed so late into the night so something must be the matter.”

Sirius smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, “Like I said earlier, you need to live a little.”

You huff, rolling your eyes, “There’s nothing wrong with being responsible, Sirius.”

“No, you’re right.” He mutters, eyes focused on a spot far away in the distance.

Sirius falls into silence; his mind further away than his body. He breaks the silence a moment later, “I got another letter from my parents.”

You take Sirius’ hand in your own, “Oh, Sirius…”

“They’re being themselves – comparing me to Regulus as if I don’t already know he’s the better son. He’s a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake.”

“It’s a shame.”

“What is?”

“That your parents never took the time to know you.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because they would see what a wonderful man you’re turning out to be.”

Sirius rests his head on top of yours, “Thank you,” he whispers, voice choked with emotion.

There were moments in your friendship with Sirius that he took your breath away with the sheer scale at which he was able to feel things. In times like this when he spoke about his family, his brother, and his fears, you’re shocked at the implicit trust he holds you in. You would never break this trust; you couldn’t, it’d go against every cell in your body to do so.

So many wonder how the friendship works; so many wonder how two people as opposite as you are could be so close friends. They don’t see moments like this where Sirius breaks down his walls and lets you in. They don’t see the moment where your kindness and fierce loyalty to your friends comes shining out of you as you listen to his words and wipe away his tears if needed.

They don’t need to see it. It’s for you and Sirius to experience with your hand in his and his head resting on yours.

In the morning, he’s calmer and he’s breathing easier than he was last night. He’s grateful to have you by his side; you calm him down – you help find sense in all the mess of his emotions. You remain patient as he stutters out his problems and you listen to each and every word. You’re kindness’ incarnate, he swears.

He drops a kiss to the top of your head before sitting next to you at the breakfast table. Sirius doesn’t miss the puzzled and amused looks from the rest of the Marauders; he shakes his head at them as he piles food onto his plate. They’re his closest friends in the world, and they tease him relentlessly for how he’s latched himself onto you, but he couldn’t be less bothered. They don’t need to understand the friendship, but he’s grateful that they accept you without too much question.

Fifth Year:

As fifth year begins, and the pressure from OWLs begins to mount, you start spending more and more time in the library. You study for everything; going over topics you’re confident on whilst also revising the topics you aren’t certain on whatsoever.

You revise a lot with Remus, him being a calming presence when studying as he explains subjects in such a way where the panic leeches from your body and you feel you finally have a grip on it. He’s a natural born teacher. 

Sirius joins you some of the time, but his confidence over the exams has you panicking more. So he would meet you in the common room after, pulling you to one side to quash any remaining fears that your studying had not resolved.

He would finish his speech with a kiss on your cheek or your forehead that had your body heating from the touch.

It was a physical friendship; it always had been. Neither you or Sirius were afraid to show your affection through a kiss on the cheek or a hug.

But lately those touches started to linger. His lips would rest on your cheek a second longer than they used to, and his arms would hold you that little bit tighter as if afraid of the minute where he would have to let you go.

Your own feelings had changed; you had given your heart to the long-haired Marauder without even realising it. Your eyes lingered on him longer, noticing things you hadn’t before – such as the way he always had a leather band wrapped around his wrist, to ties his hair up should he need to, or the way that his nose scrunched up before he started to laugh in earnest. Your heart stuttered in its beats whenever he laughed. Your heart was his to break should he wish.

You didn’t know that Sirius was feeling the same. He thinks he fell in love with that night in Fourth Year in the astronomy tower, but he didn’t realise it until half way through Fifth Year when you caught his eye across a classroom and smiled at him so widely that it knocked the very breath from him. He’d given you his heart and he didn’t even know he had.

There was something simmering under the surface of the both of you. It had the flirting becoming more and more noticeable to your friends and the Marauders. It had teachers wondering if you’d finally gotten your act together and confessed.

Your friendship with Sirius was on the verge of becoming something more. It was if you were both performing a balancing act. Each holding onto the other’s hand, teetering on the thin wire, wondering which way you’re destined to fall.

-----

“You’ve got six down wrong,” Sirius murmurs over your shoulder; mouth close to your ear.

You huff, reading over the crossword clue again, “I’m absolutely positive that it’s right.”

Sirius’ finger points to the clue, “It isn’t Plantagenet.”

You turn from where you lean against his side. Raising an eyebrow, you ask, “How do you know so much about muggle royalty and history?”

He taps the side of his head, “I just do, love.”

You snort, smiling, “I don’t believe you for a minute.”

Sirius shrugs with a chuckle, “Don’t. Let your crossword be wrong.”

You frown, looking back down at the crossword, thinking over the clue. It takes a minute before it clicks. You shove at his shoulder, “Sirius! The answer isn’t wrong!”

He laughs at the angry expression on your face. “Sirius, you’re such an arse.”

You make to move away from him; to sit further down the couch from him but he grabs your hand as you start to shift, pulling you back against him. You glare at him, but the glare soon melts at the happiness reflected in his grey eyes. You stare at each for a moment, unaware of the rest of the common room. The only thing you’re focused on is him and his grey, grey eyes.

-------

James, Remus, and Peter watch the scene unfold in front of them. You shove at Sirius’ shoulder with a shout, but Sirius grabs your hand, pulling you further into his side. You both look at each other; staring into each other’s eyes as if there isn’t an audience watching.

The trio watch the scene unfold, and they each have the same thought: they’re perfect for each other, and they’re blind to it.

Sixth year:

On a Monday morning halfway through Sixth Year, Remus, James and Peter sit next to Sirius in the Great Hall with the intention of getting him to figuratively pull his head out of his arse.

“When are you telling (Y/N) that you’re in love with her?” Remus greets; always blunt when needed.

Sirius chokes on his drink.

“It’s pretty obvious, mate.” James states to Sirius’ dismay.

“Do you think she knows?” He asks.

James shakes his head, “No, she doesn’t. Are you going to tell her though?”

“What if she doesn’t feel the same?”

“Not possible.” James states as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.

“Yeah, we watch you together all the time. (Y/N) looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky for her or something. It’s intense to watch, honestly.” Remus says.

Sirius frowns, “I don’t want to ruin what we have.”

“Sirius,” James sighs, “I don’t think you could even if you tried. We’ve all watched you for the last month or so and if we didn’t think you were perfect for each other before, we do now.”

“Yeah?” Sirius asks, so much vulnerability in that one word.

All three nod. Remus pats his shoulder, “Go talk to (Y/N).”

Sirius leaves his friends in the Great Hall, making his way through the rush of students desperate to get to their first lesson of the day. He knows he’ll find you in the common room; having the first lesson every Monday off as a free.

You’re sat on one of the many red leather couches that decorate the Gryffindor common room, pages of parchment in your hands as you read over your revision notes for your advanced classes. Sirius sits next to you on the couch; you immediately change your position to make room for him on the couch.

“I didn’t expect this,” You greet.

Sirius grins, “I missed you at breakfast, what can I say?”

You laugh, “You’re a flatterer, Black.”

In the quiet of the common room, you find your peace with Sirius. His very presence calming your mind but sending your heartbeat racing with a single look from the corner of his eye. You had become used to the way he affects you; how a smile can leave you breathless and a wink can leave your skin overheated.

“I can’t keep lying to you anymore, (Y/N).” Sirius states all of a sudden, voice breaking the silence.

“When have you lied to me, Sirius?” You ask, worry evident in your voice.

“Every day since fifth year.”

Your hand drops into your lap, “What?”

“With every touch, every kiss on the cheek. I lied through it all. I didn’t want friendship. I wanted more.”

“What do you mean, Sirius?”

“I’m in love with you. This isn’t a childish crush; I know I’m in love with you. Break my heart. Break it a thousand times if you like. It was only ever yours to break.” He says; eyes blazing, hands on either side of your face, tilting it up to look at him.

“It has only ever been yours,” Sirius repeats.

Your hands cover his as you reply, “Just as mine has only ever been yours.”

He gasps; lips parting as he stares down at you. “Do you mean it?”

You nod, “It has been for a while.”

You gaze into each other’s eyes, letting the euphoria of your confessions wash over you both. One of Sirius’ hands leaves your face to settle on your waist, pulling you that little bit closer to him. The silence is deafening; it’s charged with a heady electricity.

Sirius breaks it with a whispered question, “Can I kiss you?”

Your nod is the only answer before his lips envelop yours. He controls the kiss, throwing all emotion into it. He’s felt this way for so long and he’s finally getting to hold you in his arms with the passion he’s felt for so long. You smile into the kiss, and it almost drives him to the brink of madness with the way you’re responding to him.

You pull away breathless. Sirius peppers kisses all over your face – on your cheeks, on your nose, on your forehead. Wherever he can reach, he kisses because he’s so damned happy right now.

Sirius holds tightly to him, staring into your eyes. “I’ll love you until my very last breath, and even after. If there’s another life after this one, I’ll love you there as well.”

Tears line your eyes at the beauty of his words; at the fact that they’re being said to you. You sniffle, saying, “Sirius Black: a romantic who’d have thought?”

“I pour my heart to you; I kiss you and you make jokes? I see how it is, I’ve been a bad influence on you.”

“Poor baby,” You coo, beaming up at him.

“I am. I’m hurt and I think you should kiss it better.” He says, grinning wickedly.

“Anything to heal,” You quip, smirking.

Sirius pulls you back in for a bruising kiss; taking control the moment your lips touched. He pushes you further into the couch; his body weight feeling perfect on top of you. Your hands tangle in his hair, eliciting a low groan from the back of his throat at the slight pull of your hands.

For so long you had wanted this man. For so long you had yearned for this man who was so distinctly your opposite in every way. It shouldn’t work, but as his lips travel to your jawline, you realise that it does.

It works perfectly.

Seventh year:

From the outside, they’re a pair you wouldn’t necessarily put together. Sirius is loud, and he’s brash and sometimes he doesn’t think before he speaks, but around you – he quietens, as if the constant noise in his brain finally settles and he can think straight. You’re quiet, kind and responsible – always there to help people, but Sirius brings out a side of you that enjoys a little recklessness, even if that is sneaking out to watch the stars or to view the castle at night or to make out in one of the lesser travelled corridors.

You balance the other. You help him keep control of his emotions; he helps you come out of your shell a bit more.

Those outside the relationship don’t need to understand it; all they need to see is two ridiculously happy people, each with a depth-defying love for the other - and that’s a natural fact.

*******************

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Sirius Black taglist: @cheapglitter​ @fific7​ @approved-by-dentists​

[morganaspendragonss]

reckless but honest words

However much TK had thought he’d grown used to his parents’ shit, he’s far from prepared for the next words that come out of his dad’s mouth.

“We’re - that is to say, your mom - well… We’re having a baby.”

ao3 | 2.3k | title from anger by sleeping at last

TK narrows his eyes as he walks into his parents’ house, the trepidation that’s been building throughout the day coming to a peak as he spots them waiting for him on the couch. His dad had texted earlier, specifically requesting he come home tonight instead of going to Carlos’s, and while TK hadn’t exactly had any objections, it had given him a bad feeling.

His suspicions are instantly confirmed when he sees his parents’ unnatural postures, the way they’re smiling at him just a bit too widely. He walks in cautiously, feeling weirdly like he’s heading into a trap, though there’s nothing in the room that would outwardly suggest so.

Just his mom and dad, and how they keep looking between him and each other, like they’re in on some sort of joke that TK’s the butt of. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, easing himself into an armchair. They share another glance - giggling, for god’s sake - and clasp hands.

“TK,” his dad starts. “Your mom and I… We’ve got some news.”

TK eyes them warily, his mind instantly flashing to the possibility that his dad’s cancer is back. He dismisses the thought almost immediately - they’re far too happy for it to be that - but he also can’t think of what else it could be. Maybe his mom is moving in permanently? Which… TK wouldn’t be opposed, but he’s not sure how much longer he can cope with their bickering, and he’s barely here half the time.

“Do you want to tell him?” his dad asks, but she shakes her head and waves her hand towards him.

“Go ahead.”

And however much TK had thought he’d grown used to his parents’ shit, he’s far from prepared for the next words that come out of his dad’s mouth.

“We’re - that is to say, your mom - well… We’re having a baby.”

They grin at him, waiting expectantly for…congratulations, TK guesses? A hysterical laugh bubbles up in his chest, and he’s barely able to push it down, clamping his jaw firmly shut until he feels like he’s in control again.

“You… You’re serious,” he says eventually.

“Well, it’s hardly the sort of thing you joke about,” his dad says, laughing a little. His mom swats at him, but they’re both still smiling, both still acting like this isn’t incredibly fucked up.

“How long have you known?”

“A while,” his mom admits. “We weren’t going to keep it, but then we thought about it and we realised that we both want a child. Another one.”

TK barely notices her hastily added-on amendment. He gets what she means - he’s not a child, and hasn’t been in many years. He’s more stuck on the fact that they’re choosing to bring another child into this pressure cooker of a household, and not seeing anything wrong with that.

Even when he’d been a kid, TK had felt like he was being pulled in every direction, constantly caught in the middle of their arguments. The feeling’s eased now he’s an adult, but only because he knows he has places to escape to when it all becomes too much. He hadn’t had that growing up, and this new kid won’t have it either. 

Maybe he’s being too unfair on them; maybe they can pull it together after all. But, having borne witness to their behaviour these past few months, TK kind of doubts it. Knowing them, they’ll have decided to keep the kid by way of an argument.

And TK knows it’s far from his decision to make, but he can’t help but question them. “Are you sure you’ve thought this through?” he asks. 

Their faces drop, smiles faltering as they look at each other, seemingly having a wordless conversation. His dad nods encouragingly, and his mom turns back to him, reaching across the gap between them to take TK’s hands in her own.

“Honey…” she sighs. “We know the risks, alright? Lord knows we’ve both done enough googling. But I’m healthy, and I know what I need to do to make this pregnancy as safe as possible, and we truly believe we can beat the odds. It’ll be fine, I promise.”

She smiles hesitantly, and TK just gapes, not quite understanding how she’s managed to miss the point this badly.

“That’s not what I… Wow.” He presses his lips together in a firm line, standing up abruptly and dropping his mom’s hands. “Okay.”

He shakes his head and turns to go, but he’s stopped when they also rise, effectively blocking his path.

“Where are you going?” his mom asks, frowning in confusion.

TK feels a twinge of guilt, but he pushes it away. “Carlos’s.”

“Now, hold on a minute there, son,” his dad says. “I thought you could stay here tonight, we could have a meal as a family for once. You’re barely here these days.”

“Wonder why,” he mutters, though clearly not quietly enough judging by the way his dad flinches. TK can’t bring himself to care. “I’m going,” he says, louder this time. “I’ll see you at work.”

He squeezes past them, and makes it to the door before he’s stopped again.

“I thought you’d be happy for us.”

TK freezes, hand on the doorknob. “I am,” he lies through gritted teeth, and he doesn’t need to look to see the disappointment written all over his dad’s face. “Congrats.”

He’s gone before they can get another word in, just barely refraining from slamming the door behind him. His skin itches, his whole body jittery and on edge, and TK briefly laments the fact that he’s in no way dressed for running. He has clothes inside that he could change into, but there’s no way he’s going back in there now. He’ll just have to stick it out until he can get to Carlos’s.

Getting into his car, TK has to resist the urge to hit the steering wheel. But he doesn’t trust his parents enough to think that they aren’t watching him from the window, so he simply starts the ignition, driving away without a backward glance.

*

Carlos is surprised when he walks in, pausing his meal with the fork halfway to his mouth.

“TK,” he says, frowning. “I thought you were staying with your parents tonight.”

“Me too.” TK scowls, tossing his keys into the bowl and making a beeline for the bedroom. He feels bad for ignoring Carlos like that, but he’s worried that if he stops to think, he’ll snap, and Carlos doesn’t deserve that.

Carlos must follow him up the stairs anyway, as when TK looks up from yanking his spare running clothes out of the drawers, he’s standing in the doorway, the picture of concern. He sighs, sitting back on his heels, taking a moment to collect himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just… They asked me over because they had some news, and it sort of threw me. I needed to get out of there.”

Carlos nods in understanding. “Is it your dad? Was there a problem with the cancer, or something?”

“No, nothing like that.”

“That’s good, right?” Carlos is looking at him with those wide, worried eyes of his, and TK feels a little bit of his anger drain away at the sight.

“That part is, yeah,” he allows. “I’m not sure the same can be said for the rest.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

TK hesitates, then rises from the floor, shaking his head. “I will, later,” he promises, “but right now I just need to be alone.”

He quickly changes and grabs his headphones from the night stand, though he stops in his tracks when he catches sight of Carlos’s pained expression.

“Hey,” he says, crossing the room and cupping Carlos’s face in one hand. “I’m not shutting you out, I swear. I need air and some time to think, that’s all. Promise I won’t do anything stupid.”

He smiles and holds his pinky out, and Carlos huffs a brief laugh. He links their pinkies and meets TK’s eyes, searching his face. “I’m holding you to that, Strand.”

TK presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you later.”

*

He doesn’t know how long he runs for, but by the time he gets back he’s winded, and his thoughts are no less scrambled. The lights in the living room are off when TK walks in, but he can see a soft glow coming from upstairs that lets him know that Carlos is still awake. He’s sitting up in bed, reading, when TK manages to drag himself to the bedroom, having already showered and changed. He holds an arm out in invitation, and TK goes gratefully into the embrace, leaning his head on Carlos’s shoulder.

Carlos absent-mindedly traces circles on TK’s arm with his thumb, a silent comfort that TK relishes in.

“My mom’s pregnant,” he says eventually.

Carlos freezes. “Oh. That’s… Wow.”

TK chuckles humourlessly. “I know.” He sighs. “I feel like I shouldn’t be mad, but I can’t help it. I mean, I knew something was up, they’ve both been acting cagey for ages, but I just… I never thought it would be this.”

“I think you’ll be forgiven for not expecting it,” Carlos comments drily. 

TK hums, fiddling with the sheets. “It’s not just that, though. I’m pissed that they didn’t tell me, sure, but I’m less mad for me, and more for this kid. I know what it’s like to grow up with them, and you’ve seen how terrible the past few months have been. I can’t believe they’re seriously going to put another kid through it all.”

“Maybe they’ll work things out,” Carlos suggests, though even he sounds doubtful.

“I want to believe that. But…”

“But?”

“I don’t think they even noticed it,” he confesses, voice quiet. “I was so alone as a kid, but Mom had her firm and Dad had the firehouse, and I was just...there. I know they loved me, but that doesn’t mean they were great parents, and I don’t think they realise even half of what they did. They’re having this baby because they want the good times back, and they’re forgetting just how many bad times there were.”

Carlos squeezes his shoulders. “Shit, Ty-”

“You know it’s part of the reason I became a firefighter?” TK asks. He should probably feel guilty for interrupting, but it’s like some dam has broken inside of him and it’s all coming spilling out whether he wants it to or not. “I’d see my dad with his crew - with this family he’d built at the firehouse - and I just… I wanted in. I wanted my family back, but I couldn’t have that so I settled for inserting myself into his.

“It sort of worked, I guess. We were close. But he’s never been a father to me, exactly, not in the way I needed. I’m okay with it now, but I’m worried the same is going to happen all over again.”

Carlos waits, but TK’s done this time, gritting his teeth against the emotion welling up in him 

“Have you spoken to your dad about any of this?” Carlos asks.

TK scoffs. “I tried. Remember my identity crisis after I got shot? I went to him and told him, but he just turned it on me and started talking about 9/11 again. It’s like, I know how bad it was. I know his whole house was killed, and I know how badly that hurt him. But I was seven, and I lived through it too. It’s not the same, I get that, but I did. I think he forgets that sometimes.”

He groans, slumping down further into the bed - and, by extension, into Carlos. “I sound like a dick, don’t I?”

Carlos is silent for a long time, and when TK looks up at him, he’s worrying his bottom lip, brows creased in a frown. 

“I think…” he starts slowly, turning his head to meet TK’s eyes. “I think you’re being perfectly reasonable. Everything you just said… I can’t even imagine, Ty.”

TK stares at him, startled by how firm, how fervent Carlos’s voice is. There’s anger there, too, and it’s strangely comforting to know he’s not alone in his frustrations. Even so, TK feels the need to reassure him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, lightly touching Carlos’s arm. “You know I’m okay, right? I’m over all that.”

Carlos sends him a doubtful look.

“Mostly,” he amends. “Besides, I have you now, and the team. I’m not the one who needs to be worried about.”

“I’ll always worry about you,” Carlos says, but he sighs, relenting. “You should talk to your parents, though. They need to know how you’re feeling, especially if they’re going through with this.”

TK shrugs non-commitantly. “Yeah, maybe. Not like they’ll listen to me.”

Carlos sighs. “TK -”

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” TK interrupts, turning pleading eyes on his boyfriend. He’s tired of thinking about his parents, and he feels more than a little guilty for taking over their evening complaining about them, like he’s done far too many times before. He points to the book lying abandoned at Carlos’s side. “Tell me about that?”

Carlos sends him a look, emphatically letting TK know that he’s not going to let him push this away, but he does eventually pick up the book. “I don’t think it’s something you’ll like,” he warns.

“You like it,” TK says. “That’s enough for me.”

The brilliant smile Carlos sends him is almost enough to make him forget everything else that happened tonight. And when he starts talking, TK closes his eyes and lets Carlos’s beautiful voice wash over him, chasing any other thoughts from his head.

It’s peace, of a kind.

[sanosoup]

hi! just wanted to say the title of your inbox gave me a visceral gut reaction when I first saw it and I love the whole aesthetic you have going on here. But also I was hoping if possible if I could request a Drabble with rindou based on the song "tongues & teeth" by the crane wives, (but like in the way that if one of the characters was singing the song it'd be the reader?) i hope i worded that to actually make sense, oh and uh, could it be gender neutral? Or if need be the reader could be explicitly some form of gender-non-conforming but it's never stated explicitly how? I think I'm rabbling now so I'll take my leave but I hope you have a lovely day!

HAHA THANK YOU SM 😭😭 i literally paid for premium so that i’d never have to hear those words spoken to me again, they do such a good job with their marketing ig 😔 and thank you for the request! i had fun writing this! i hope you enjoy this my dear <333

tongues & teeth — rindou h.

“but you were a wildfire, and he knew this from the start.”

> inspo: tongues & teeth by the crane wives

> rindou x gn. reader (drabble) (angst)

> a/n: hehe sorry if this isn’t the best! this is just sorta my interpretation from listening to the song/lyrics + rindou may be a little ooc oops oh well! also sorta word vomited >_>

reqs are open!

rindou was almost certain he was utterly aware of the type of person you were the moment he saw you; he could note the sharpness of every word that rolled off your tongue like a shard of glass, every lingering stare upon his body leaving a sensation akin to sunburns, and every little flicker of your body was as rampant and raging as a wildfire. he was sure he could wrangle you in, make you his very own, water down the strong liquor that coursed through your veins and intoxicated him with every kiss.

you’d never change, something in him knew this, knew that you’d grow bored of him just as everyone else. you’d break him one day and leave him to fade away in the resonance of your own shadow. something stirred in his stomach, urging him to wish for that; he wanted you affections, to feel you like no one else could, rindou was constantly in search of a hint that perhaps you’d hold him closer this time. but you were a wildfire, and he knew this from the start.

rindou’s heart felt swollen, he hated how easily he could snap in half at your simple whim; did you even have any idea how hard it was for him to regard someone like that? your eyes were cool, waiting for him to speak, to say anything. “you’re never going to love me as much as i love you, are you?” rindou’s voice was hushed, nearly ashamed that he’d say something so vulnerable as though it were easy. you tilted your head at his balled fists, “i don’t think i know how to,”

perhaps this is what he deserved, to have the shadow of love, something he could see the outline of, could almost touch, only to merely fantasize about it being more than what it was. rindou hummed in acknowledgment, lungs full of the love he cannot spew, you were the only person he could truly drown in and it thoroughly hurt to know you would not teach him how to swim. he wondered if he had known you before you had grown so cold, if it would’ve been any different, if he would’ve fallen so madly in love with you. “then i’ll wait,” he murmured.

rindou wasn’t sure if you’d ever find it in yourself to become more than the silhouette of the person he fell in love with. he could merely see them in your eyes, your ferocious desire to be able to be what you were meant to be, slowly flickering away.

[yuzukult]

from home 05 || jjk & reader

title: from home  pairing: jungkook x reader genre: richkid!jk, baker!reader, fakedating!au, fluff, angst, e2l, smut in later chapters word count: 7.5k+ prompt: jungkook is the youngest of five boys, the last in line to truly inherit any his parents’ money. but what if his mom suddenly cuts him off due to his current poor behavior and he’s forced to learn how it feels like to be part of the working class? a/n: i was really excited to write this chapter and i still couldn’t get myself to make it longer... :( i suck...

please let me know if you’re interested in being tagged! but also let me know if you want to be removed! taglist: @scalubera @strugglingartistno16-2 @taestannie @teresaisla @drumsofheaven @vampgguk @christiandosworld @madjammil @jungkookieyoongs @bananagguknim @shuttheelleup​ @yobroitsjayden​

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Stating that Jungkook was 'on edge' is an understatement.

His palms and armpits were sweaty from the moment he arrived at your apartment to grab you before going to meet your parents, despite the amount of layers of deodorant he has on. He's never had a real relationship before, let alone met any girl's parents, and he can't help but feel something churning in his gut. "Good to go?" You ask, and he merely nods, suddenly bashful because he feels like he is definitely not ‘good to go.’ "Alright, let's head out."

The ride on the bus to your family home is only 30 minutes away, and truthfully, he has never ridden on one before. Walking to yours, Hoseok, and his home were less than 15 minutes, the thought of taking the bus being the absolute last thing on his mind. 

Jungkook isn't exactly sure how he feels about the bus. The constant starting and stopping makes him nauseous; then the unsteadiness of having to hold the bars and handles throughout the vehicle all around seems unsafe. When there's an available seat, you sense his fear, nudging him cautiously, gesturing him to take the seat. "Sit," and granting he wants to offer it to you instead, Jungkook complies to the demand because he swears he's going to vomit. 

After getting off the public transportation that he vows to never take again, you guide Jungkook through a narrow road, he notices the neighborhood here was more concentrated than the ones in Busan; tightly knitted with homes that stacked on top of one another, side to side, and back to back. People hung their clothes on lines that stretch from apartment to apartment, piles of boxes stored on balconies, and plants resting on the borders with owners sitting idle on their porches, fixated on their hobby of people watching. 

Jungkook is known to be popular to the public, from magazines, gossip TV channels, social media posts, and the types continue on to the point that you couldn’t name them all on your own ten fingers. People don't often recognize him on the streets anymore because he's unrecognizable in regular everyday clothes but today, he learns that you're the celebrity.

The people in their homes say their greetings, making comments here and there as you entertain them with a response back, laughter dispersing in the air. There's an old lady that lounges on the steps of her home, a smile stretched so wide that her eyes disappear, all with a blanket laying across her lap, knitting away. "I haven't seen you around, I assume your mother is having a dinner party for the kids? I see you brought a friend!"

"Something along those lines," you retort indirectly, nose snug into your scarf. "You're not staying indoors? It's cold out."

"My husband keeps the heater on the home too high, I sweat like I'm going through menopause like I’m forty all over again, so I much rather be outside here. Anyways, I don't want to hold you up too long, but please come by for Christmas, I do have a sweater I knitted for you as well!"

Then there's a grandfather, another grandmother, and a couple who seems just a bit older than the two of you, and the list just goes on. Despite the whisper exchanges at the supermarket mentioning that you're intimidating, mean, and scary, it's obvious that you aren't or else you wouldn't be swooning the hearts of these strangers.

But there will always be an exception. Especially when the two of you run into a girl who looks close in age, hair dyed blonde with her lips painted fusion red. He could tell how curvy she was with how tight the winter coat hugs her frame, swaying her hips toward your direction as she eyes you both suspicious. "I see our town loser brought a friend."

"Mm," You nod, attempting your best not to amuse her, or else you’d be pouncing on her back by now. "Jungkook, this is Somin. A classmate of mine when I was in grade school." He bows in politeness, zipping up his jacket further while stepping closer to you. "Nice to meet you, Somin."

"Oh, no!" She gasps, a hand on her chest in exaggeration, completely flabbergasted by something he said. "Don't call me that. I go by Bella, since... you know, I am an American now. Being an American deserves the right name."

"You got your citizenship there?"

"No, but, I spent enough time there to know." She grins, shrugging her shoulders. Spent enough time there—you want to call out on her bullshit yet again, knowing she barely spent a month there before dropping out of school and coming back, but it'd be humiliating to mention that with Jungkook standing by, a stranger that she had only met a mere few seconds ago. "You said Jungkook... Are you perhaps, Jeon Jungkook of the Jeon Corporation?"

You furrow your brows. "How do you even know that?"

"Well, daddy invests in their stocks, of course." Fluttering her lashes, she manages to make her presence known to Jungkook as she moves in his direction. "And I saw his pretty little face in a magazine and couldn't help but admire."

Possessively, your hand slips into his pocket, intertwining your fingers together, causing warmth to creep up his neck and into his cheeks. "Well, great to see you, Somin. Jungkook and I have dinner plans with my parents."

"Whoa, wait, dinner plans?" Somin nearly exclaims, shifting aside to block your way. "Also, it's Bella, get that straight, will you? And why is Jeon Jungkook with you anyway?"

"We're dating," Jungkook interjects, clearing his throat. The words are still unfamiliar on his tongue yet he loves to flaunt them anyway. "I'm her boyfriend." He adds, tightening the grip on your hand as if Somin could see it. Her mouth drops open, unable to grasp onto the fact that you were able to land on a hunk like him. If only she knew how much knowledge of basic life skills he didn't have... actually, she might still have the same perspective. "There's no way. This is fake, right? You realize how rude she is, don't you?"

"No, it’s not fake, and well, kind of," Jungkook admits, scrunching up his nose at the thought. "But it's endearing. Wouldn't be as exciting if she wasn't always trying to banter with me, so I don't think I'd have it any other way. People mistake it for her honesty. I love a woman who can be true to herself and genuine with her words."

Just then, your mother peeks out of the front door of your childhood home, waving her arm eagerly, calling out your name. "Well, that's our cue. Thanks, Somin, for congratulating us on our new relationship. Hope you find someone yourself soon!"

"What—" Somin barely finishes her sentence before you're zooming past her, tugging Jungkook along. 

"I didn't know you had so many enemies," Jungkook says jokingly, a playful smile upon his lips. You roll your eyes before squinting them at him, squeezing his hand hard as he winces. "Now you know how little I care for them, watch out because you might become one."

Upon entering the home, Jungkook observes too many things at once. Your mother is in the kitchen, frantically maneuvering through the junk that your family has hoarded over the years, searching for whatever it is she needs for the task at hand. Your father sits comfortably on the couch, feet on the coffee table with a controller in hand, dozing off with a combination of quiet and loud snores escaping from him. As a family home, Jungkook believes it's small considering that you had mentioned previously that you had two other siblings. To think that your parents are still living in the same home they grew up in is amazing to him, knowing that his parents moved at least five times within his youth while you only stayed in one home.

"Uh, hello," He greets your mom, bowing as she places her hands onto his shoulders, shaking him in excitement. She looks almost like a replica of you, except older and much brighter. "You must be Jungkook! It's so great to meet you, I'm so happy that my daughter found someone. She's known to be a bit... cold, so knowing that you were able to warm her up means that you're definitely special!"

"You make me sound like a bad guy." You hiss before your little sister walks in, in the midst of tying her hair up into a ponytail. She resembled your mother than you did, a delighted expression that matched exactly the one your mother had on. "That's because you are, and any guy who dates you seem to run away once they find out." She halts in her steps when she notices Jungkook's face. "Oh my god, you're that model."

"Model?" Your mother reiterates, glancing back at Jungkook and then your sister. "Yeah, yeah, that model in the new edition of Elle. He was in it—he's listed as one of the 10 most desirable men under 30. No flipping way, how'd you even get him to even date you?" She pauses before pointing at Jungkook with a suspicious look on her face as his eyes widened. "Unless... you need her for something. What's she offering? It can't be her body, she's not sexy... is it her brains? You heard about her—"

"Miyoung." Your mother says sternly, interrupting your sister. "Just because Jungkook is a model, it doesn't mean that your sister is incapable of being loved by a man like that."

"Actually—"

"Oh, hey. You must be the boyfriend." A taller male enters the room, his hair messy and lids hooded from waking up barely minutes before. He's still in his pajamas, a loose grey shirt and red checkered pants, but from the outline of his shirt, Jungkook could tell this guy was built. "I'm Daehyun, also known as their big brother. It's nice to meet you." Jungkook is in awe, hand extending to shake with Daehyun's. He knows he's straight, but even as a straight guy he knows a pretty man when he sees one. 

Jungkook was starting to pick up as to why your exterior was so tough. With a younger sister who didn't have a filter to an incredibly handsome older brother, of course as the middle child you had to protect yourself. "Uh, yeah. And that's my little sister, Miyoung, who basically just attacked me for all of my insecurities within a minute. Thanks, kiddo."

"No problem, Unnie." She grins cheekily, seated on the high stool. "Did mom tell you I was back home from college for the weekend? That's why you're here?"

"Something like that," you respond ominously, hanging up your jacket along with Jungkook’s. Despite her preceding interrogation, she’s chewing on her bottom lip skittishly. "More like she forced me to come. Well, she didn't say anything yet but I felt a guilt trip coming so I just decided that I would come instead."

"Typical," Daehyun scoffs, leaning against the wall beside Miyoung. He sneaks a glimpse into the kitchen where your mother secretly runs back into, resuming in her work. "She's been desperate to get us all back together since the two of you moved out. Remind me again why I'm the only one stuck here?"

"Because you can't find a job." Miyoung and you remind him in unison and he frowns. The interaction between the three of you is crystal clear evidence that you guys are related. "Well, geez, hurt a guy, why don't you? See what I have to deal with, Jungkook?"

With some time left until dinner, the four of you crowd at your small dining table, conversing away about updates in your lives. Miyoung is in University an hour away from home, residing there for an easier commute, and Daehyun stays at home with an ambition to find a job that fits his degree. Daehyun still dates from time to time but he admits that he can’t tend to his needs because well, his mother is a room away, and oddly enough, albeit Miyoung babbles on about other things, she’s silent about her love life. Neither Miyoung and Daehyun are able to hold a steady job, he observes, and he’s starting to pick up as to why you’re so adamant about keeping both of yours. Jungkook learns that everything seems to gravitate toward one of the two phrases from your siblings when it comes to finances and they are: “Mom can handle it,” or “I’m going to let Dad do it so I don’t have to.”

From what Jungkook can gather, your siblings seemed to have different outlooks on life compared to you—they still depended on their parents whilst you were already hunting for opportunities of your own before Miyoung’s age so you didn’t have to ask for money.

“Are you still upset with me about what happened a year ago?” Miyoung finally asks you, chewing on her nails nervously. It seems to be something she’s been holding back from you, Jungkook takes a note of the way her eyes were filled with worry. “Of course,” You reply nonchalantly, leaning back against your seat with your arms crossed. “How could I not be? But you’re my sister, so I can’t actually be mad at you.”

Miyoung begins to tear up— glassy gaze with her bottom lip quivering, in spite of the previous aggressiveness she presented when you first entered the house. Before Miyoung could get another word in, your mom comes in with a guilty expression on her face. She calls your name faintly, a pout upon her lips. “Can you and Jungkook go out and grab me a couple things before dinner?”

Jungkook can’t get the question that Miyoung brings up out of his mind. In the middle of an aisle at another one of his mother’s grocery stores, your lips are pursed in thought at which brand of soy sauce would your mom like more. 

“What was Miyoung going on about?” He eventually asks, but he holds his breath in case you decide to sock him for querying you about something so personal. Strangely enough, you open up. “Miyoung fell in love with my ex. He told me they didn’t do anything but he was in love with her, so we broke up. I thought I was going to settle with him but— guess not.”

Jungkook’s eyes expand like a deer in headlights. “Your little sister is dating your ex-boyfriend? And they were in love with each other during your relationship? I would’ve given her an uppercut if I were you— are you seriously still buying the banana milk she asked for?” He’s trailing behind you as you lead him toward the drinks; your face brightening from the lights from the fridges. How could someone who lost their boyfriend to their little sister seem so put together in the first place? Was this was Hoseok was talking about that your men streak was horrendous? 

“Because she’s my little sister. At the end of the day, I want her to be happy.” Throwing a pack into the cart, Jungkook continues to push it while following you, mind still foggy and angry about the situation. Here you were, with a guy who you’d fallen in love with to the point of considering settling down, then finding out he’s been in love with your sister... he feels like this is all a fever dream and isn’t an ounce real. “You’re fucking with me right?”

You look at him with perplexity. “What do you mean?”

“This sounds crazy. You’re serious? Miyoung stole a guy from you and you’re just going to be the bigger person here and not do anything about it?”

“What am I supposed to do? Throw a tantrum? Get in the way of their relationship that is obviously blossoming in a good way?”

Jungkook pauses. Was this what it was like in another family? Or at least yours?

In comparison, he perceives that within his family, outbursts were everything. Getting attention and being recognized for any wrongdoing was immensely important— he knew that if he stole a girl away from one of his brothers, he wouldn’t make it out of the house alive. His mother, including father, would never forget it. The chattering would be heard through the grapevine amongst the housemaids, drivers, and employees of the company. Even news media outlets would dabble a bit into the family drama, adding fuel to the fire. He could never react the way you did, at least, he hopes he would, but realistically speaking, he knew he wouldn’t be able to do it.

Yet, with you, it seemed simple enough. Sure, your heart was broken, but how were you going to be with someone who didn’t love you back?

“If you love someone, you let them go.” You say calmly when Jungkook doesn’t respond back. “Keeping them around for your benefit doesn’t solve anything. If he wasn’t truly happy with me, I want him to be happier with someone else. And if that person so happens to be with Miyoung, what am I supposed to do?”

“But... you’re not happy.” Jungkook declares with no hesitation. He recalls the time where you felt bad for him for not having the best upbringing, and he’s starting to understand the emotion that ran through you. “I’m happier now,” You concede, placing the last ingredient your mom has on the list for you to purchase, turning your back at Jungkook. “Now that I met you.”

His heart flutters at the comments, and he’s desirous about bringing up the topic of the kiss again. Jungkook resists the urge to because he could tell from the way your silhouette begins to quicken its pace toward the checkout line that you really didn’t want to talk about it. 

When the two of you arrive back at your house, your father is jolted awake. Jungkook greets himself to the elder man who only grins brighter than the sun—something Jungkook is trying to grasp where your grumpiness comes from— and instantaneously directs him to the dinner table where your mom has a ton of side dishes laid out with six place settings for you all.

During the meal, there was nothing but exchanging stories, laughter, and elation that swarms the room. If this was what family meant, Jungkook wanted it. And the more he thinks about it, the more he wants it to be with you.

Nothing is working out for Jungkook.

This week, the pipe in his apartment burst. Something about— it’s winter and when it’s cold, the water freezes within the pipe and it expands the material, causing the pipe itself to burst, he doesn’t quite understand how the whole plumbing system works, but he knows that he can’t use the water in his apartment and has to go to yours and Hoseok’s for the week for a shower until the landlord can get it fixed.

Then, one of the deli guys called off because he apparently had the runs which meant that there was a shift change— Jungkook having to cover since whomever was working that day didn’t have the skills to do it.

Skills? Jungkook curses underneath his breath when he recites that word in his head repeatedly because he cuts his finger on the meat slicer as he winces, calling out your name. Coming to his side, you pull out the first aid kit and force him to sit down on one of the stools, tying elastic on a higher point of his finger to stop the blood from gushing out. “You alright?”

“Yeah, I just... I didn’t need to be put here, right? Someone else could’ve done this, I have no idea how to use a slicer.”

“I know,” You coo, wiping some of the antiseptic on the wound as he whimpers at the sudden sting. “The new shift manager panicked, she wasn’t sure what to do since the guy with the actual food preparation license is going to be here a bit late so she put you here. Not exactly the best plan.” After bandaging him up, you wash your hands underneath the faucet as Jungkook slouches in the seat.

Nothing really was going his way.

It doesn’t even stop there. Unexpectedly, his mother calls for dinner but you’re on shift, therefore you wouldn’t be able to attend. He’s tempted to down a glass of whiskey on ice, his signature drink, but when he opens the cabinet in his kitchen, he falters at the image of your face. Would you be disappointed if you saw what he was doing? And Hoseok? What would he say?

Retracting his hand back, he immediately slams the door shut at the thought of the consequences.

Dinner is the usual at the Jeon residence. Father sits at the end of the dining table, the typical beige cloth napkin spread across on his lap while in his usual work attire, glasses rested on the tip of his nose as he’s ready to dive in with a fork and spoon in hand. Mother is settled beside him, pretty as ever and calm in comparison to the hell that’s going to let loose in a couple minutes. The unknown? Who is going to blow up this time and who will they be comparing themselves to?

The answer? Jongseok and Jungkook.

Jongseok is upset to the point that he articulates every word with spit nearly projecting from his mouth to the opposite side of the room. The vein on his temple is stressed to the point that all Jungkook can think about is when it’s going to pop. “Why are you guys always babying Jungkook? You realize the kid is fucking working at a grocery store right? And not just any grocery store, either, but it’s mother’s chain.”

“Okay?” Father retorts, forehead wrinkling in puzzlement. “Isn’t he trying to prove himself worthwhile? Didn’t he find that job himself, despite it being your mother’s chain? He’s paying for his mistakes, learning basic life skills along the way, and even landed himself a serious girlfriend who can hold his hand through these tough times, since, after all, you’re the one who suggested we cut him off. If I’m being honest, I think we should give him access to our funds again.”

A scoff of incredulity comes from Jongseok. He’s a ticking time bomb in this moment; jaw twitching in frustration with the tips of his ears heated red. Even though he’s the target yet again, Jungkook is sober now, mind clear of the fog and the ability to defend himself for once. “I don’t get it. Why are you even mad at me? I’m trying here, right? You’re the one who wanted me to get cut off so desperately— and congrats, by the way, because I did. I had to find a job myself, one I’m not a fan of, and I’m barely making it by. I lost water in my apartment this week, cut my hand on one of those deli slicers, sprained my ankle on my way to work— and that’s only a portion of my bad week. Yet here I am, sitting at the dinner table with people who claim that they love me when you’re here flipping shit at father. What do you want from me?”

“For your name to be completely off the will.” Jongseok finally says what he has been actually feeling unperturbedly, not an ounce of affection in his tone with a gaze that could pierce through Jungkook. “You have nothing to offer to this family. Why we keep you around— I don’t know. Why should you have any portion of our estate and company assets when all you’re doing right now is working at the supermarket. Tell me, Jungkook, why do you deserve to be part of any of this?”

Jungkook hates how childish he’s being, but he feels like he has the right to. The flickering colorful lights and music booming through the speakers of the club are tuning out the words his brother exclaims at his parents, and the amount of alcohol passing through his lips are numbing the pain that tears through his chest. Your face pops up in his head; your laugh, your smile, and the comfort in the underlying messages through your tough love— he wishes that all of that was enough to heal the sting in his heart and fill the hollowness that his family left.

He doesn’t remember any of these people sitting at this table with him, even though they’re hollering in excitement that “Jungkook is back again!” The girl placing a hand on his chest with his arm around her shoulder isn’t you, but he knows that if it was, you’d be so displeased at how wasted he is. Honestly, this feels wrong. Nothing sits right in his stomach and when another pretty gal with her dress hiked up to the point he could see her thong from where he’s on the couch, he’s not even attracted to her. All he could think about was you, and that scowl on your face when he tells you about this night. He could hide it from you but he’s not going to lie to himself— if he wanted to improve for the better, it meant being straightforward and authentic. Jungkook came here to let loose because the events that occurred at the estate tonight was something he wants to forget.

Turning to the girl beside him, his eyes are hooded and vision is blurry when he asks, “What’s your name again?”

When her rosy plump lips open, she says her name but the voice that comes out of it is deep and oddly familiar. “Hyeri?” Why does she say it like a question, and why is her voice so low? Just then, a hand clenches the fabric of his shirt, pulling him up and he meets the proprietor of the response. Hoseok.

Hoseok drags Jungkook’s weak and frail frame out into the alleyway behind the club, fuming to the point that smoke could’ve been whistling out of his ears. “What the fuck are you doing here? And with Hyeri, of all people! I thought I told you to stop fucking around, dude! I-I thought you knew how much she means to me. Out of the people I’ve partied with— you were my actual friend.” He clenches his jaw before Jungkook could even answer, a fist tightening in his hand. “You’re such a fuck up, Jungkook. So much for a friend.” 

Then everything blacks out.

His entire body hurts. His head is pounding, he can barely open one of his eyes, and his legs are so sore he can hardly shift on the bed— on a bed? He doesn’t have a bed. He has a futon but not a bed. Startled, he attempts to sit up against the bed frame, the other eye opening to skim through the room. 

He’s never been in your bedroom before, but the pictures of you graduating college hanging on the corkboard above your desk, concert tickets, Polaroids, and holiday cards thumbtacked beside them is all the evidence he needs to know it’s yours. Jungkook wants a closer look at them, he can scarcely make out the cute little smile on your face with your family in attendance in the picture, but when he puts weight onto his arms, he groans. Seconds later, you’re bursting through the door, out of breath and worry in your eyes. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Voice hoarse, he realizes how dry his throat is and you lean over to the bedside table to hand him the glass of water you had there originally. “Don’t move, idiot. You’re actually really torn up if you didn’t feel it with all that alcohol in your system.” Inviting yourself onto the foot of the bed, Jungkook frowns after he finishes the entire glass, much more dehydrated than he initially thought. “Trust me, it’s gone now. I feel every ounce of pain. What happened? I blacked out.”

“No shit,” you retort harshly, rolling your eyes at him. “You were drunk as hell, but you didn’t black out from that. Hoseok saw you getting all cozy with Hyeri and knocked the shit out of you. What happened, Jungkook? Why were you there in the first place? Did something happen?”

Reading the expression on your face, he fears for the worse but he doesn’t see any hint of dissatisfaction anywhere. There’s no anger, no resentment, no frustration— none of that. Just curiosity smeared across, genuinely worried about his well-being. “Are you upset that you found out I was there?”

“I was mad that Hoseok called me to come grab you, at first, so kind of, yeah. But if you’re trying to figure out if I’m disappointed in you, then no, I’m not. Old habits are hard to kill, so I understand that you’re trying to cope with something. I just want to know why you were there in the first place and why were you getting all lovey dovey with Hyeri—“

“I wasn’t getting lovey-dovey with Hyeri,” Jungkook exasperates, head falling back against the headboard, closing his eyes shut, interrupting before you lead the conversation into a lecture. “She was just some girl that sat down and claimed a spot next to me. I didn’t even know she was Hoseok’s girl.” There’s a pregnant pause in his explanation, and you don’t break off his train of thought. “I... I went because Jongseok called me useless tonight, yet again. It didn’t bother me as much as it did before, you know, before I met you, and it’s probably because I wasn’t intoxicated or the fact that I’m actually trying now and he still thinks I’m useless. He wants me out of the will.”

“He’s jealous that he’s the problematic child now, not you.” Making your way up the bed, you’re seated on top of the covers, settled adjacent to Jungkook. “If it makes you feel any better, I think you’re way more useful than you had been initially. I usually do the dishes at my parents’ house, mostly because I’m the middle child, but you did it for me instead. I consider that a huge accomplishment from who you were before.”

As much as he hates to admit how warm and fuzzy he feels inside just from that small achievement, it’s a resemblance of the time when he was younger and won an award for being most creative in his kindergarten class. How are you able to lift up his mood so easily by just saying a few words?

“I… is Hoseok really pissed?”

“A bit,” you reply sincerely and apologetically, even though none of this had been your fault. “He’s been in love with her even before I met him. She was all he could talk about, and I guess she finally gave him a shot, only to drop him a month later. I don’t know much about her, but I know she’s a gold digger from the stories he shared.”

Jungkooks face drops when his gaze meets yours. “Have you ever told him that?” You laugh—the melody that practically heals his wounds on the spot. “No, are you crazy? He’s blinded by love, Jeon, and any interference with that, I’m done for, probably cut out entirely from his life. Have you never been in love before?” 

He wants to say that he hasn’t, not until he met you, but you continue without expecting a response from him anyway. “Well, that’s just how he is. You could tell him a billion times that this girl isn’t for him but he’s never going to care about what I say until something actually happens.”

“I really care about Hoseok, though, and I want the best for him.” His doe-brown eyes are glossy, full of cherish for his friend. “And he cares for you too, Jeon. Just give him some time.” Quickly, Jungkook twists away, gaze avoiding yours as he clears his throat a couple times.

“Are you... okay?”

“Y-Yeah,” He says, choking up on his own words. “Hurts a little. Hoseok is strong.”

You furrow your brows. “Hey, look at me.” He doesn’t react. “Jeon,”

“Can... you give me some space?” 

Pulling your lips into a straight line, you contemplate whether or not to listen to his words or go against him. He’s been living in a home full of people yet still feeling alone, with no one to listen to his perspective on things. Maybe it’s time you change that.

Abruptly, you swing your leg over his thighs, hands cupping his cheeks just like you did that fateful night. He swore his heart stopped beating. “What are you—” There’s tears brimming in his eyes, you realize, with some escaping, trailing down his cheek. He sniffles. “You’re crying?” You’re stating the obvious, yet somehow it comes out as a question. “Don’t cry. Why are you crying?”

“I’ve never had a friend love me before, a friend who actually liked me for me and only wanted to spend time with me because of who I was, not who my family was. Did I really fuck up with Hoseok?” You frown, thumb rubbing against his cheek to wipe away his tears. Truthfully, you never really knew how to react when someone fell apart like this, but with Jungkook, it felt natural, the comforting. It might’ve been the sunlight peering through the windows of your room that made everything toasty, thawing out your cold heart, or it was just Jungkook. “Maybe. But I doubt he wouldn’t give you a chance to explain yourself though. I mean, yeah, you’re bruised all over because he really beat you up... but, I’m sure this evens things out. Plus, I’m your friend and I love you too.”

He sighs, shoulders plunging with his hands creeping up to your waist unconsciously, tenderly steering you to sit on his thighs. Swallowing at the feeling of his body flattened against yours, you’re attempting to shake your head from the dirty thoughts. Jungkook feels at ease, detecting the words come from your mouth, yet he wants more. He craves for more, especially since that night in Busan and he isn’t sure he can hold himself back anymore.

“I... What happened that night in Busan?” Lifting your weight off him, he only stops you by putting down more pressure to stop your escape. Despite being in an awful lot of pain, he still manages to overpower you in strength. “Please don’t avoid this. If Jongseok didn’t come to our door that night, it would’ve led to something more. I want to know, please, what does it mean?” Cheeks burning, you stare at the wooden headboard behind him, except Jungkook knows your next steps before you do because his finger is already on your chin, guiding your view back onto him. He doesn’t need to say anything because the look he gives you says it all, tell me.

“Okay, okay,” You cringe, the idea of talking about this makes your stomach feel queasy and want to recoil in dread. “White flag. I’ll talk.”

“Enough of this white flag nonsense, just tell me.”

Belatedly gathering enough courage, you spill. Although your heart feels like it’s jumping through hoops from suspense, you realize that you can’t hold yourself back any longer anyway. “I’m... attracted to you, alright? I mean, I’m not sure how I feel about you 100% emotionally, because I still feel like we’re on different pages here, but I feel like I kind of like you? If this goes any further, I wouldn’t necessarily be opposed to it.”

That’s... it? Admittedly so, Jungkook was hoping for more of a confession, something along the lines of, ‘I really like you, Jungkook’ but he’d have to settle for this. This was definitely a step closer to where he wants to be. “So... you’d date me, that is. There’s still an opening somewhere.”

“I-I mean, I guess so... why?”

“Because well, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and I know that for sure that I like you.” He discloses. “And if there’s even a bit of an opening, I want a shot at it.”

You scoff. “With me? You want an actual shot with me? After spending time with my family, you want to still try to swoon me?” There’s a smile tugging on Jungkook’s lips; there’s a blackish-bluish bruise underneath his eye, the side of his lips red and blotchy and the entirety of his body is either swollen or bruised, and yet, he still endures the pain to be beaming brighter than the stars. “Of course, you met my family, right? Yours is nothing complicated in comparison... well, maybe your sister. But for once, I feel like I belong here, with you, I feel like I’m home. So, will you give me a chance to win you over?”

“Don’t you think you’re rushing this whole thing? This... you thinking you like me kind of thing.”

“Are you going to keep wasting your time?” He blurts, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “You wasted how long with some guy only for him to ditch you for your sister. What about your happiness, and what you want? None of this is fair to you. What if I could possibly give that to you, that happiness? Would you actually give me a chance?”

Sincerely, you didn’t know what the relationship with Jungkook held and what it would mean in the future. But what he asserts is right with the things he repeats in Busan about being selfish for once replays in your head again, and you finally decide to take a shot at it.

Was it the high of saying ‘yes, okay’ to Jungkook or the painkillers he took earlier because when your lips meet with his, he feels like he’s floating in mid-air. Your tongue is wet and soft when it fights with his, and when his hands on your waist pull you in closer, the bulge in his pants isn’t discreet, raging for attention, twitching against your thigh while your fingers knots through his hair tightens in response to your bottom lip suddenly tucked in between his teeth. The room feels steaming hot, especially when your hips start to move against his, emitting a groan from him as hand trails down to your ass to give it a harsh squeeze in consequence. His jeans from last night are still on and they’re straining in his crotch uncomfortably.

This is escalating so fast—just as quickly as his heart is beating in his chest, almost popping out of his chest cavity. Your natural scent is intoxicating, clouding up his mind to the point that he doesn’t think he needs the alcohol to forget the pain his family has caused him anymore, because you’re mending the pieces of him together. Your hands trail down to his neck, tugging him closer before they wander down to his biceps, giving him a gentle squeeze that releases a wince from him. 

Just as abrupt as the kiss, you pull away with a concerned and panic expression, with your mouth open in aghast. “Oh my god— I forgot you were still injured—” As you’re trying to move back, you stumble on his legs and collapse onto the floor.

“What— hey, are you okay?” He says, breathless as he leans over to check on you sprawled on the floor. Swiftly hopping back on your feet, he observes you clearly with your hair disheveled, cheeks tinted pink, and swollen lips. There’s a look of achievement on his face from the sight of a disoriented you. “Uh, um, yeah. I-I’m good,” Flustered, you push a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m... I’m going to get dinner ready for the both of us, uh, I’m going to leave you to it,” you’re awkwardly gesturing his crotch before rushing out the room and slamming the door shut.

He can only laugh at your reaction. At least his week wasn’t that bad after that kiss, right?

Jungkook stirs awake from the sound of chatter in the living room, voices familiar that he can associate them as yours and Hoseok’s. Unexpectedly, he sounds melancholic, the muffled sounds from your walls, almost to the point of whimpering mixed with your soft assuring words. He figures he should get a closer perspective of this, maybe enough where he can make out what the two of you are conversing about.

He’s not far off from shrieking when he angles his leg too far, but he bites his bottom lip in prevention of any sound, eyes rolling to the back of his head at the torment. Careful, he reiterates like a mantra in his head, chanting it until it’s engraved in his brain. When he reaches the door, he opens it slowly and just barely, to peek out and see the scene unfold before him.

“She told me that they didn’t do anything,” Hoseok exclaims, face in his hands as his elbows are resting on his knees. “That she chose to be there, and Jungkook was just lounging on the couch. That if anything, she wanted him to fuck her. Isn’t that ridiculous? How could she say that?”

You’re seated on the armrest of the loveseat, hand rubbing against Hoseok’s back soothingly. “I know, Hobi, I know. You might’ve been the right one for her, but at the end, she wasn’t the right one for you.”

“I could’ve changed,” He emphasizes, spinning his gaze to meet yours. His eyes are crimson and swollen from his tears, restlessness fills in those orbs. “I love her so much.”

“Well, and you love Jungkook. He’s in the other room, beat up and crying because he thought he lost you. He didn’t do anything wrong and you tore him to shreds! Earlier when we were making—“ You pause, clearing your throat when you realize where you were leading the conversation, Hoseok raising a brow in confusion at the action. “Earlier, I mean, I went to check on him and he was whining in pain. You really hurt him, Hoseok, and not just physically either. He’s both hurt emotionally and physically.”

He frowns. “I mean, I guess... I guess it wasn’t his fault.”

“There’s no guessing, idiot. It wasn’t. He was honestly too wasted to even realize that she was sitting beside him. Poor kid reeked of alcohol that I almost made him sleep on the porch. But he would’ve gotten robbed so... I let him stay in my room and I slept on the couch.” Jungkook glowers at the thought of you struggling to find comfort on the small sofa, wishing you would’ve chosen to sleep by him instead.

“Can I... talk to him?” Hoseok finally asks, looking down at his hands in embarrassment. His knuckles were red, contused from the one-sided fight he had with Jungkook the night before. “I fucked up, and I’m sure he thinks that he really fucked up.”

You hum for a moment before an idea pops into mind. “How about... you go out and get takeout? I’ll check on him, prep him for your appearance, and then you guys can hash it out?”

You don’t take no for an answer, pushing Hoseok out the door shortly, and a soft smile tugs on the edges of Jungkook’s lips before he lightly shuts the door and tip toes back into bed, pretending to be deep in slumber.

When you come into the room afterwards with a wet rag in hand and a bucket of warm water, his heart swells. Patting the towel against his wounds while seated at the edge of the bed, he hastily has a hand wrapped around your wrist, shocking you in the midst of your activity. “Oh— you’re awake?” He gingerly kisses the palm of your hand, heat clogging your face . “Yeah. And, thank you. For everything. I owe you a lot.”

“I—uh, maybe you’ll reciprocate this for me as well, one day?” You respond dubiously. “But... you also might not know how to do it so—“

“Are you still trying to make jabs at me after I made such a sweet comment?”

“Well, I’m just being honest, do you even know how to take care of another person?” You shoot back. “You couldn’t even get yourself back home, I had to be called and drag you back here myself, and my god, you’re heavy—“ He hauls your arm closer, dragging you along with it until your nose is inches away from his. “Can I kiss you again? I miss the way your lips feel with mine.” Even when he says the words in a volume that’s barely a whisper, his breath fans against your skin harshly, causing goosebumps to crawl up your spine.

The door pounds shut and before you can tear away from Jungkook’s hold, Hoseok is already standing in the threshold of the bedroom, mouth wide open in shock before it immediately fades into a mischievous grin. “What did I tell you, Kook? Which one was it first? You or her?”