#but i always end up just falling back on throw it in a pot and call it soup

[heldbybarnes]

Lemon Trees and Laundry Days

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader

----------

The first time Bucky Barnes showed up on your doorstep with a lemon tree, you blinked at him like he had grown a second metal arm.

“You said you liked lemon bars,” he offered, shrugging, his free hand shoved in the pocket of his gray hoodie. “So I figured, why not just grow the damn lemons?”

You stared at the tiny potted sapling in his hand. “Bucky. I meant I like eating them. Not, like…becoming a citrus farmer.”

He grinned, boyish and shameless. “Too late. We’re cultivating now.”

That was how it started. The tree went on the windowsill beside the washing machine, where it could catch the sun during the late morning. Bucky talked to it sometimes—soft, private things when he thought you weren’t listening. You caught him humming once. Said nothing. Just smiled.

You’d only meant to live with him for a couple weeks. A temporary arrangement while your apartment got de-molded and detoxed after a water pipe burst. But weeks turned into months, and suddenly your shampoo was living beside his. Your hoodies in the hallway. Your books slowly migrating to the living room shelf.

And it was fine.

Fine.

Totally fine.

Until it wasn’t.

“You left your socks in the sink again,” you called one morning, balancing a laundry basket on your hip. “You okay? You never forget your socks.”

Bucky padded into the kitchen, hair still damp from his shower, toothbrush in mouth. He blinked like he wasn’t quite awake yet.

“I wasn’t done with ‘em,” he mumbled around the toothbrush.

“Done with them?” you echoed, laughing. “Are they in a side quest?”

He grinned, toothpaste foaming at the corners of his mouth. “Battle socks. Needed a time-out.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart did that little hiccup thing it did lately. Like it couldn’t keep up with how casually he made you want to stay. Stay longer than planned. Stay forever, maybe.

You pushed that thought down. Buried it deep beneath dryer lint and denial.

Laundry days became your thing.

Every Thursday, like clockwork, you’d take the baskets out together. The backyard clothesline stretched between two crooked fence posts, one of which Bucky had insisted on reinforcing with metal brackets “for structural integrity.”

“Also because it looked sad,” he added. “Couldn’t have it keeling over like a fainting goat every time you hang a towel.”

You laughed, warm and unguarded. “You’re a fixer. I get it.”

“Just don’t like seeing things give up,” he said. Quietly. Like he wasn’t talking about fence posts at all.

You wore your favorite sundress that Thursday.

The lemon-yellow one with little white flowers near the hem. It cinched at your waist in a way Bucky always noticed, even if he never said anything. You caught him looking when he thought you were busy clipping sheets to the line.

“You okay?” you asked, tossing him a clothespin.

He caught it effortlessly. “Yeah.”

“Liar.”

“Maybe I’m just admiring your battle dress.”

You snorted. “This is not combat-approved.”

“Depends on the kind of battle,” he murmured, then looked away like he hadn’t just set your insides on fire with six syllables.

You turned back to the laundry and tried not to read too much into it.

You fell asleep on the couch that night.

Bucky came home late from a mission debrief and found you curled under the throw blanket, drooling into a cushion. He didn’t wake you. Just gently adjusted your legs so he could sit down beside you, careful not to disturb the cat curled on your stomach.

He watched the quiet rise and fall of your chest for a long time.

His metal fingers brushed a stray hair from your cheek.

He whispered, “God, I’m screwed,” to no one at all.

The shift came quietly.

In the way he poured your coffee before you got up. The way you left sticky notes on his computer screen that said things like “Don’t forget to eat, Barnes.” The way his hoodie ended up in your laundry pile, and you didn’t give it back. The way your voice sounded like home when you called out “Buck?” down the hallway.

And then there was the neighbor.

Her name was Trish. Kind, older, nosy in that gentle way that made you want to bake her muffins just to distract her.

She waved over the fence one Saturday morning while you and Bucky hung pillowcases.

“You two are adorable,” she called. “How long have you been dating?”

Your hands froze mid-clip. Bucky blinked.

You both spoke at the same time.

“Oh, we’re not—”

“She’s just—”

You laughed nervously. “We’re roommates.”

Trish winked. “Sure you are, sweetheart.”

She disappeared back into her garden.

You turned to Bucky. “That was awkward.”

He looked at you for a long second, lips parted like he was about to say something important. Then he closed them.

“Yeah,” he said instead, “real awkward.”

But he smiled as he said it.

That night, you made lemon bars.

Because you were thinking too much. Because he had smiled at you like that. Because you needed something sweet to offset the fact that his hand had brushed yours earlier while reaching for the laundry detergent and you still felt it.

He walked in just as you were zesting the lemons.

“Smells like trouble,” he said.

You turned, holding up the bowl of batter. “Smells like citrus.”

“Same thing.”

You bumped hips with him as you passed.

He caught your wrist. Just for a second. Just long enough to make you forget what you were doing.

“Hey,” he said softly.

“Yeah?”

“You ever think about…?” He trailed off.

You looked up at him, heart hammering. “About what?”

He smiled tightly. “Never mind. Smells great.”

It rained the next laundry day.

So you hung the sheets inside. Draped them across doorframes and banisters like a pair of overly enthusiastic fort-builders.

You stood together in the narrow hallway, a pillowcase hanging between you, the air warm and lemon-sweet from the cookies you’d baked that afternoon.

“I think we’re nesting,” you said.

Bucky laughed. “Is that what this is?”

“You know. Pillows. Food. Mutual laundry dependency.”

He didn’t respond right away.

Then, quietly, “I don’t mind nesting. Not with you.”

You looked at him.

He looked back.

It felt like the house was holding its breath.

The kiss happened two days later.

You were folding towels on the porch, barefoot in the golden afternoon. The lemon tree had its first tiny bloom. Bucky came up behind you, slow and careful, like you were a deer he didn’t want to startle.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said.

You turned. “That’s dangerous.”

He laughed, but his smile was nervous.

“About what Trish said.”

You swallowed. “Yeah?”

“About us being a couple.”

You nodded. Waited.

“I didn’t correct her because I didn’t want it to be false. I mean—I didn’t want it to be false.” He was rambling now, hands twitching. “Shit, I’m saying this wrong.”

You stepped toward him.

He fell silent.

You reached for his hand, flesh meeting metal. His breath caught.

“Bucky,” you said, voice barely above a whisper. “Just kiss me.”

He did.

It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate.

It was soft.

Sure.

Like he’d been waiting forever.

You kissed him back, slow and steady, until the sun dipped below the fence line and the sheets on the line danced in the breeze around you.

You never moved back to your old apartment.

Never wanted to.

The lemon tree bloomed again that spring.

He named it Clementine.

You didn’t correct him.

[plethorawrites]

Jason Todd x Empath Reader (Because I love this idea)

Jason had barely made it through the door of the apartment before he collapsed onto the couch, his feet hanging off the end of it as he buried his face in a throw pillow with a tired groan.

You looked up from the pot you were stirring in the kitchen, glancing over at him. "Long day?" He just groaned again into the pillow. "Did you want to take a nap before we eat dinner?"

Sometimes, when he was extremely tired, he would take a power nap before you ate, just to avoid falling asleep during the meal. You never minded much, since you knew he had a hard job and it wore him out.

All he did was raise a hand, waving it dismissively. Was that a yes or a no? You weren't quite sure, but probably thought he was refusing the offer, as he often did, since he felt guilty for coming home and falling asleep immediately instead of spending time with you.

Despite his best efforts, he slipped into a state of slumber quite quickly, even though he tried to fight it off, telling himself he would only rest his eyes for a moment before getting up to give you a kiss like he always did.

A few moments later, when dinner was nearly ready, you heard the sound of something getting kicked and peered over towards where he was resting. "Jay?"

No response.

Turning the burner down, you walked over to the couch where he was sleeping, not well, at that. He was thrashing, the way he often did, one of his legs hanging off the couch, occasionally kicking the coffee table when his body jumped.

"Jay," you repeated, a bit firmer, shaking him awake.

He bolted straight up, breathing heavily. His hand gripped the pillow until it was white while he looked around, trying to recognize his surroundings.

His gaze eventually landed on you and his breathing slowed. "Baby?"

You knelt by the couch, taking his hand in yours. "You okay?" You asked gently, as to not elicit any strong emotions from him by accident.

Jason hesitated to answer, not wanting to lie to you but hating to admit the truth as well. "I- I guess," he muttered, his grip on your hand tightening. He scrubbed his face with his spare hand, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I'm sorry for falling asleep," he apologized, leaning forward to place a small kiss on your lips.

You frowned slightly, resting your forehead against his. "It's fine," you assured him. "Are you hungry?"

Yes.

He was absolutely starving.

And as an added bonus, he wouldn't have to talk about his feelings or dreams for a while.

Jason nodded, loosening his grip on your hand ever so slightly before standing up, draping his hand around your waist and following you into the kitchen.

He knew you liked to know about how he was feeling; you constantly asked and he appreciated that you would take the time to let him try to vocalize feelings he used to ignore or invalidate. But he also knew that if he let you, you would use your powers on him every chance you could to help him sleep or bring him peace of mind, at your own expense.

Jason couldn't let you do that. So, he would rarely, if ever take advantage of your gifts. Instead, he would talk your ear off when he, very rarely, felt emotional enough to talk. And he would show you how he felt as often as possible.

After dinner, he laid down in bed beside you, pulling you close to him, like normal, resting his hand on your back and burying his face in your hair, kissing the top of your head. He never felt safer than when he was holding you and could feel you holding him back, with your arm wrapped around his waist and your head resting on his chest, listening to his heart beat through his shirt.

Unfortunately, his subconscious got scary when he was asleep and the normal comfort he felt disappeared when he began to dream, feeling like you were slipping away from him.

In his dreams, you left him. In his dreams, he died over and over and no one stood at his grave. In his dreams, he lost everything, everyone.

Jason woke up to you shaking him again, practically shouting his name to try to get him to open his eyes. He had broken out in a cold sweat, tossing and turning until all the pillows had fallen off the bed and he'd basically stolen the entire blanket from you.

"I'm sorry," were the first words out of his mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..." He was out of breath, panting as he buried his head in his hands. "I'm so sorry. Please don't leave."

You dragged his hands away from his face, taking his chin in between your fingers and forcing him to look at you. "Jay, talk to me," you pleaded quietly, laying your head on his shoulder as he caught his breath. "Just tell me what you saw."

He exhaled, his fingers curling around the sheets. "You left me," he said, staring down at the bed. "I died again and you di- you moved on. You didn't even visit my grave."

Your heart broke.

"You know I'd never do that," you insisted with conviction. "Never."

If he died, you wouldn't move on. You couldn't. You wouldn't just visit his grave, you'd probably live at it. No piece of your heart wanted to even think about loving someone else. Ever.

Jason swallowed harshly. "I know," he whispered, trying to believe you. "I just...my subconscious doesn't."

You squeezed his shoulder, running your hand back and forth, trying to ease some of the tension in his neck. "Please let me make it better," you begged.

"No," Jason replied without hesitation.

He wouldn't let himself rely on your powers. He loved you. Not for your ability to lull him to sleep, but because you were his partner, the person he wanted to see every morning and every night, who brought a smile to his face and made him feel safe just by existing.

"Jason—"

"I said no!" He exclaimed. "I'm not using you. I'm not going to sleep while you stay up to let me."

You paused, seeing him tense even more. He hadn't meant to snap and you both knew it.

"You're not using me," you stated calmly. "And I can sleep anytime. Please just let me help you rest. Just for a few hours."

You were desperate for him to sleep. He looked exhausted, miserable, even. It hurt you almost as much to see him deny himself what could help as it did for him to constantly refuse your offer.

His jaw set and you could see him thinking it though.

"Please," you repeated in a soft whisper.

He finally caved. Nodding he sighed heavily, laying down. "No more than three or four hours."

That's all he really needed to function, anyway.

You nodded, laying down with him, seamlessly falling into his strong arms, wrapping your arms and legs around him like a koala, clinging to him for your own comfort as much as his.

The tension slowly dissipated from his body as he wrapped his arms around you, enveloping your body tightly as he buried his face in your neck, taking a deep breath and trying not to feel guilty.

A few seconds passed and he suddenly felt his anger, his sadness, his pain, all subsided until all he felt was peace and calm. Not to mention love. A lot of love. To a nearly unfathomable point.

Within seconds he was falling asleep in your arms, humming and mumbling incoherently while nuzzling your neck as you stroke his hair, scratching his scalp with your nails.

Three or four he said. You agreed.

You still stayed up all night, only allowing yourself to fall asleep once the sun rose and he got eight full hours of sleep for the first time since the last time he let you use your powers on him.

He'd be annoyed, you knew and he wanted to complain, tell you not to sacrifice your sleep for his but when he woke up, you were already asleep, still clinging to him. So, he let his arms tighten around you again, laying there, letting you sleep, like you let him.

A relationship was give and take, he knew. He felt terrible for taking too much, so he would give you this. For as long as he could. Even if his arms were numb.

[captainpriceslilwife]

pt. 2 of the well-loved gaz x insecure!reader post!! (This is kind of a bridge to pt. 3, so bear with me PLEASE! I have more ideas for the next part, but I needed to get there first lol...hopefully this is good idk im nervous abt my newfound audience)

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

The rest of his night passed in a daze. He couldn’t stop stealing glances at the tiny little picture on your license while Johnny and Simon argued with each other about what he should do to try to win you back - but he could barely hear a word they were saying as he wiped away the sticky-sweet drink that was still dripping down his face.

“Ah’d give her a second ta calm down, ya ken? Go in the mornin’ and give her a chance to find her head.” 

“Showin' up at her place unannounced after hanging onto her shit all nigh'? Yeah, that’d leave a good impression, wouldn’ it? No wonder you can’t get a bird, Johnny. Scarin’ ‘em all off.” 

“Ach, ye’d know what tha’s like, wouldn’ ye? Spooky fuckin’ bastard. Ah bet women run the second they see tha' stupid fuckin' mask-” 

"Whatever. Gaz, just give it to the bartender, yeah? Clearly she doesn't like ya'. She'll come back for it."

In the end, he ends up taking Johnny’s advice and decides to return your wallet in the morning – which maybe wasn't his smartest move. Especially since now he doesn’t have a lick of alcohol flowing through his system to calm him down as he walks along the sidewalk towards your place. He’s sure he looks crazy to everyone he passes – muttering to himself to try to coach himself through what he’ll say to you. 

“Hey! Nah, uh���hello, how are you? No, I- fuck…” He shakes his head as he looks down at your wallet, twiddling the zipper between his fingers as he mumbles under his breath. “Hi, I’m Kyle…I’m the one who, um…who made you...cry last night. Ah, shit.” 

He's never felt this way about a girl before - like a nervous, stuttering schoolboy. His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his chest, and he can feel the sweat beading on the back of his neck when he suddenly finds himself standing in front of your door.

You've got a sweet little welcome mat - covered in sunflowers and loopy letters - and he notices all the pots filled with plants and flowers that scatter around near your door. God, he's already thinking that you're the most precious thing in the world.

He doesn't know what it is about you that's affecting him so much. Is it because you rejected him? Is it a challenge to him? Does he just feel guilty? Or maybe it's because, for the first time ever, he's gone after a girl that he actually has to figure out. Women have always thrown themselves at him the moment he flashed a smile their way. But you...all you did was throw a drink in his face.

It takes him nearly a full minute before he finally knocks on your door, and he can't seem to figure out what to do with his hands as he waits for the sound of your soft, thudding footsteps to reach the door.

You're still puffy from crying yourself to sleep last night, but you open the door with a polite smile anyway - donned in your oversized cat pajamas without an ounce of makeup on - but your smile quickly falls when you recognize the man standing on your doorstep.

The unfortunately beautiful man who had woken up every insecurity you had in less than a minute of talking to you.

Your expression seems to cycle through a million emotions as you try to comprehend how he could possibly be here, but once you notice the teal wallet clutched in his hand, realization settles on your features as the embarrassment hits you.

He stands silent for a moment as he takes in how gorgeous you are despite your slightly disheveled appearance, and he can barely form a sentence as he lifts up your wallet with a sheepish smile. "You, uh…you left this at the bar, um…last night. Got your address from your, uh...your I.D.” Christ, he's lost all sense of charisma hasn't he? He holds onto the wallet for a horrifyingly awkward amount of time as he stares blankly at you, but he finally comes to his senses when you mumble out a quiet 'oh, thanks' and reach out to take it.

“I’m Kyle, by the way.” 

He's never seen a girl look at him with such guardedness before - with your arms crossed protectively over your chest as you give him a tense smile. He can't tell if it's because of the whole incident from the night before, or if you're just freaked out that a total stranger went through all the effort to bring your wallet directly to where you live.

Probably both.

You clearly return his greeting just to be polite, murmuring your name quietly as you place your wallet off to the side.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” He lets out an awkward laugh, but quickly backtracks when you shoot him a funny look. “I mean, from your license! I-It’s got your name on it. I only know it because it's...it's on the license.” He stutters out quickly as he shoves his hands into his pockets. God, he's losing it. His heart feels like it's going to explode. “I, um…it’s a gorgeous name, by the way. Suits you, you know?” 

The compliment slips out naturally, but it only makes you tense up even more, and you suck in a tight breath as you begin to shift on your feet. Your fingers are itching to reach for the door to slam it in his face - arrogant prick thinking he can keep up his act from last night even though he practically sent you into a fit - but he interrupts your spiraling thoughts with a heavy sigh as he drops his charming smile.

“Hey, I...I just really wanted to say that I'm sorry, love. I didn’t mean to upset you like that last night.” His demeanor changes so drastically that you can't help but soften a bit, melting underneath his warm, pleading eyes enough to listen to him. "I think we had a bit of a misunderstanding...I wasn't making fun of you, love. Honest."

He seems so genuine about it that you can't help but feel a bit guilty. You had tossed and turned all night thinking about how shocked he had looked after your little outburst. You tried to stave of your regret by telling yourself that he had come over to you only to make fun of you like everyone else does, so technically he deserved it - but now you weren't so sure.

“Oh, well…I’m sorry for, you know…throwing my drink in your face.” You murmur sheepishly as you look down at your welcome mat - tracing one of the flowers with your fuzzy slipper before tilting your head back up to look at him with burning cheeks. “Wasn’t very mature of me."

“No, no, no...it's fine, really! If anything, I'm sorry you had to waste your drink on me. I mean, I know how pricey that place can get.” He lets out another laugh, but it's a bit less tense this time, especially when he sees the way your lips almost quirk up into a smile. It makes him feel bold enough to try to bring back the charm, and he can't stop himself from asking you, “You know…maybe I could, um…make it up to you sometime? Could buy you another drink?” 

But once again, you pause. His persistence only makes you more suspicious of his motives, and it shows in how you tighten your arms across your chest. He can see your eyes flash with a pang of hurt, and he feels his heart clench as he fumbles over himself, growing less sure by the second. “O-Or just a coffee, maybe?” 

“...Look, Kyle…” His heart leaps in his chest at the sound of his name on your lips, but your guarded tone is enough to smother the warm, fluttery feeling that had been building in his stomach. “Thanks for bringing me my wallet, but you’re wasting your time. I don’t know what kind of bet you have going with your friends, but I’m not going to fall for it, okay? I'm not...I'm not stupid.” 

Stupid? His expression falls once more, and he gives you the most genuine look he can muster as he speaks up quietly. “I...I don't think you're stupid. There’s no bet, love. Honest.”

“A dare, then.” 

“No dare, either.” 

You let out a frustrated sigh and roll your eyes a bit before resting your hand on your hip, but your irritated demeanor doesn't hide the way your eyes are beginning to grow a bit watery and bloodshot as you murmur quietly. “Well, why are you doing this, then?” 

His eyebrows furrow as he looks down on you, and he can't help but shake his head in disbelief as he takes a small step towards you. God, you were absolutely breaking his heart. Did you really think it was that unbelievable that he could like you? “I already told you, love. I think you’re absolutely gorgeous…and I know you don’t seem to like hearing that, but it’s true. And I know you're not just a pretty face, I just...I don't know anything else about you. But I'd like to...I'd like to get to know you.” 

You don't seem moved by his words, but he can't see how your heart begins to pound wildly in your chest, grasping onto the small bit of hope that you had desperately tried to push down. You'd spent so long trying to protect yourself from feeling this way about someone, and he's already managing to sneak past those walls you had built up.

But your mind keeps replaying every moment of disappointment you felt when it came to men 'asking you out' - how people would laugh behind your back when you would get excited for a date with a guy they all knew was just messing with you, or how a boy in your class straight-up laughed in your face when you thought he was being serious about being his date to the prom. 'Shit, she actually fell for it! Damn, I didn't think she'd have the nerve to say yes! Ah, right, well...sorry love...just havin' a bit of a laugh, yeah? All in good fun.'

No, no, no...you couldn't fall for something like this again.

He can see the look in your eyes as you stay silent, and his heart pangs with guilt when he realizes how much he's probably torturing you. He decides to put you out of your misery, so before you can open your mouth to reject him again, he raises his hand to stop you. "Yeah, alright...I understand." A pathetic smile graces his features, and you can't help but feel a bit guilty at the look of disappointment on his handsome face. "Can't blame a guy for trying though, aye?"

You can't even tell if you're disappointed or relieved that he's finally given up, but you give him a grateful smile as you nod your head in understanding. Couldn't expect a guy that looks like that to put in too much effort with someone like you, right? "Right...yeah...thank for um, understanding."

"Of course..."

God, this is awkward.

The both of you stand and stare at each other for another moment longer before he turns to leave. But just as he turns to go, he stops in his tracks and thinks to himself for a second before letting out a puff of air before turning back to you. "Don't happen to have a pen, do you, love?"

You blink in surpise at the randomness of his question, but eventually nod your head and disappear for just a second before returning with one in hand.

If only you could see how nervously he tapped his fingers against the side his leg while he waited for you to come back - a habit he only ever indulged in when he couldn't contain his anxiety on missions. Something his captain always ragged on him for.

Yeah, he was absolutely hung up on you.

He tries to ignore how soft your hand is when he takes the pen from you, but he can't ignore the way your touch zaps up through his arm and straight to his heart. And from the way you tuck your arm back against your chest with hot cheeks, he can't help but wonder if you felt it, too.

He pulls a crinkled receipt from the pocket of his jacket as he gives you a nervous smile, almost like he's waiting for you to scold him for trying again. And if it isn't the most charming thing you've ever seen... “Listen…if you change your mind-“ His hand moves quickly to scribble something on the small piece of paper, and when he hands it to you, you see his number written in handwriting that is frustratingly neat for a man in a rush. “-just let me know. No pressure, of course. I’ll fuck off if you want me to, but…just thought I’d give you the option. Don’t think I could live with myself if I didn’t at least offer to make it up to you.” 

And you take that stupid, crinkled piece of paper from his hand against your better judgement, and to your chagrin you can feel your cheeks burning brightly enough for him to see. Luckily for you, he can't see the way your heart is dancing around in your chest at the prospect of actually having a chance with him.

"Right...ok." You mumble quietly as you stare down at his number, toying at the edges of the paper with your thumb before his voice catches your attention once more.

“Well, um…I should get going. I hope you have a good day, darling.” A part of you was horrified to realize that you didn't want him to leave just yet, but you just nod your head stiffly as he backs away from your doorstep. And god he gives you that handsome, charming smile one more time before he turns on his heel and calls over his shoulder. "I hope I get to see you again."

And you wave at him so awkwardly as he walks away, like a deer caught in headlights, but it makes his heart flutter all the same. He hopes that even if he doesn't get a chance with you, someone else will realize what a catch you are. Someone who will treat you the way you deserve. Someone like him.

It's not until much later in the day - when he's stuck in a briefing and trying not to fall asleep with Price's voice droning on johnny's already drooling on the table - that his phone vibrates in his pocket. He sneaks it out underneath the table to take a quick glance to see who could be messaging him, and his heart practically leaps out of his chest when he sees an unfamiliar number.

‘ok...maybe just one coffee.’

He can't help but smile to himself as he reads it, and before he can begin to type out a response, another message pops up on his screen. And another. And another.

'i mean, only if you're still interested, of course.'

'no pressure or anything :)'

'oh, this is y/n by the way!'

Yeah, you might be the sweetest girl he's ever met.

A/N: do I like this that much??? eehhhhhhhhhh idk. but i kept going back and forth and rewriting and deleting and i finally decided to put myself out of my misery. again, i'm so so so grateful to everyone who requested a part two for this and left support on the original post so i hope this meets everyone's standards! pls feel free to leave suggestions in my inbox or in the comments if there's anything specific you want to see (or request something else entirely)! i also wouldn't mind writing any alternate parts of the story if ppl request it so pls dont hold back! pls stay with me for pt. 3!!! also sorry if you requested to be tagged and i missed you!

Tag list: @vixyyvix, @little-mini-me-world, @miyo-0oo, @milanriol, @z-wantstowrite, @nexthyperfix

[27spoons]

You Are a Memory. | Natalie Scatorccio

pairing: natalie scatorccio/gn!reader

summary: Natalie says goodbye to an old friend. (mid-late s2)

wc: 2350

warnings: mentions and depictions of suicide, cannibalism as a metaphor for love, y/n usage, natalie scatorccio cannot catch a break

a/n: i wont lie to yall and say this is an easy read. i was writing smut then started listening to the linked song, and, well.... here we are. here we are.

"Nat, you don't have to do this," Van says, breaking the quiet. "Maybe…" They glance around the room before gesturing to Travis, “Trav can take them down to the plane, keep them there 'til spring. You don’t have to be the one to do this—"

"I'm fine on my own." Nat snaps—too quickly. She regrets the bite the second it leaves her mouth. "I did it with Jackie, I'll do it with y/n." They wouldn't have wanted anyone else to do this, anyway, she leaves unsaid, tightening the seatbelt around her waist as she prepares to face the howling wind outside.

Unlike when she was carrying Jackie's bones to the plane, Nat doesn't stop to look back this time. God forbid she let the entire cabin see the way tears had started to spring to her eyes.

The wind batters against her exposed skin as the door to the cabin opens, but it does little to deter her as she steps out into the air, kicking the door shut behind her.

Your bones are already packed—neat, contained. A far cry from Jackie’s, scattered and scorched, cradled in a sheet like the aftermath of a storm. No, she takes you with far more care. She’d watched as Shauna carved your body open, face stone-still. She hadn’t looked away—not once. 

Because in the end, wasn’t it her fault?

I was calling For the last time

"Have you seen y/n?" Nat asks, voice casual, maybe too casual, as she kicks snow from her boots. Another empty-handed hunt. "Found a piece of scrap wood. Figured they’d want it—been carving a lot, lately." She glances at the fireplace, the mantle lined with various woodland creatures and other shapes. 

Mari makes a face and shakes her head, stirring the pot of… belt soup. Yum. "Nah, not since we crashed last night, I think." She pauses, considering. "Wait. Actually—yeah. I don’t think I’ve seen them since we fell asleep." She glances up at Nat, "Aren't you two like… besties? Shouldn't you know where they are?"

That makes Nat's jaw tense. Last night? 

So the last time anyone saw you—was before they all fell asleep?

"Lot?" Nat whips her head around, looking for the former center back. "You seen them? You're always awake before anyone else?" She tries to steady her voice, but it’s already starting to shake—just like her hands.

Lottie considers Nat's question for a moment before shaking her head. "Not that I can remember."

Nat makes a slight sound and immediately throws on her boots again, preparing to go back out into the snow. "I gotta… this isn't like them. They wouldn't just vanish like this without a trace. It isn't like them."

"Wait, you're going back out?" Travis glances up from where he had sat near the fire, "Nat, we just spent hours out there. Maybe they're just taking a walk, or something." He dismisses her like she dismissed his concerns about Javi, but Nat doesn't hear any of it.

"If I'm not back by sunset, come looking for me." It's all the response she gives before she's out the door for the second time that day, trying not to give in to the panic that threatens to overwhelm her.

The walk to the plane feels longer than usual, her steps burdened by the heavy weight she carries—metaphorical and physical. The wind shrieks through the trees, dragging icy fingers across her cheeks, and she doesn't bother to wipe the tears that freeze as soon as they fall.

It feels wrong to bring you here. You don't belong here.

Sure, she did it with Jackie. But that had been about closure. Ritual. This? This is different.

This is a goodbye she hasn't earned, a goodbye she doubts that she'll ever earn.

The crunch of snow under her boots becomes almost unbearable. Rhythmic. Final. She wonders if you would've said something poetic about it—some half-assed line you'd mutter just to make her roll her eyes and secretly smile.

She tightens her grip on the bundle in her arms.

No, not a bundle. Not firewood. Not a pack of furs, or a dead buck.

You.

She hates how light you are now, all the weight of the meat and flesh that you had once worn cut from the bone, resting inside the stomachs of anemic and tachycardic teenagers who didn't value your sacrifice nearly as much as they should have.

The hull of the plane creaks as Nat steps into it, kicking her snow-covered boots on the floor as she walks towards the seat you had sat in when the plane went down, placing your bones carefully onto the cushions. A deep sigh leaves her as she kneels, her hands reverently splaying over the bag that carries you. "Fuck. I should’ve found you sooner." Her voice cracks, "I should've—you wouldn't have… if I'd just—" She presses a hand to her mouth as her eyes squeeze shut, "God, I'm so sorry."

We'd been here before  They found pictures in the snow

"Y/N!" Nat calls out, boots crunching through the snow that had settled over the past few days. "C'MON! THIS ISN'T FUNNY!" She tries to coat it in anger, but you’d know better. You’d hear the crack—the fear under it.

It's been over an hour since she left the cabin. 

An hour of calling your name. 

An hour of holding her breath like that could keep the worst from happening.

The sun is starting to set over the horizon, and she knows that she doesn't have much time left before it becomes too dark even to find her way back to the cabin, so she heads to the last place she thinks you would be. Maybe it's the first place she should have gone, but this has always been a spot you two visited together. Why would you go there alone?

So, she makes her way to this small alcove that the pair of you had found over the summer, before you were worried about starving, before you were concerned about freezing to death in a cabin surrounded by malnourished and fatigued teenagers.

When she approaches the clearing, she almost sighs in relief when she sees your form, lying supine on the ground and staring at the treeline. But you're still. Too still.

"Oh, Jesus-Fucking-Christ, dude. You scared the shit outta—"

The snow underneath your arms is stained a dark crimson colour, the exact colour that Nat had seen game bleed after she had successfully landed a fatal shot between their eyes. 

"No—" Her voice breaks, all semblance of sanity gone out the window. "No. No. No—" 

She drops to her knees adjacent to your lifeless form, hands on your shoulders as she shakes you vigorously. "No, you aren't fucking doing this to me! You know I can't fucking do this with—without—" The first sob falls from her lips when it finally sets in just how pale and waxen you are. 

Nothing else matters now. Her ears begin to ring, drowning out the already muted sounds of the forest, and she presses her forehead into your shoulder as the tears begin to streak down her cheeks. Her words collapse into broken sobs, muffled by your jacket as she clings to you like she could anchor you in place. Like if she just held on tight enough, you wouldn’t leave her again.

The silence in the plane feels just like the clearing.

Still. Too still.

Her hands, still red-raw from the cold, twitch as she brushes a bit of frost off the bag holding your bones. The skin is tight and shiny, fluid-filled sacs blooming at her knuckles—painful reminders of how long she's been in the cold, of what she'd do just to carry you back here herself.

"You looked so peaceful," she murmurs. "I fucking hated that." A scoff leaves her throat, watery and laced with pain. "You never looked like that when you were…" alive. 

Nat's jaw tenses as she looks down at the ripped-up carpet that lines the plane floor, blood-stained and perfectly resembling the emotional turmoil that bubbles beneath the surface. 

"Even when you were sleeping, you… your eyebrows were always pressed together, y'know? Like you couldn't get peace even when you slept." A beat, "I… God, y/n. I hope you've found some fucking peace."

She wants to hate you. She really does. She wants to lash out and tell your bones how selfish you were—but she can't. No matter how hard she tries, how hard she tries to push anger to the surface, you were never someone she could hate, not even when you stole her laces before Regionals last year and made her faceplant in front of the entire goddamn school.

No, you were always the best of them.

I could tell your eyes  Looked beneath the blue

It's well past nightfall when Travis and Gen find her.

Nat sits next to your body, face devoid of all and any emotion, fingers plagued blue and curled in on themselves with superficial frostbite. Her body's stopped shivering—given up on the core instinct to keep warm.

Her thousand-yard stare cuts through Travis as he kneels before her, his voice falling on deaf ears. 

All she can see is you. 

All she can hear is you. 

All she can feel is you.

The world feels as though it's been submerged in water as she's helped to her feet and back to the cabin. 

It isn't until Gen mentions something about coming back to retrieve your body in the daylight that Nat flinches.

"No—" Nat immediately rasps out, her senses returning to her as she struggles out of Travis's grasp. "N-no. We won't… we aren't gonna… not like we did Jackie. We won't. I won't let us. I won't. I won't. I won't. I w—" She chokes on her own words, falling back down to her knees adjacent your corpse. "I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry—"

Travis says something. A reassurance. An empty string of syllables that don’t matter. 

She doesn't hear it. His words bleed into a static sound that floods her senses and threatens to consume her whole, almost like the darkness that had consumed you.

The walk back to the cabin is a blur. Someone boils snow for a bath. Nat doesn't speak. Doesn't look up. She lets them peel off her coat, strip her down, and lower her in like a doll.

The water stings. She doesn't flinch.

She doesn't even feel it.

Her knees ache against the floor, but she doesn't budge from her position.

The plane is cold. Not wilderness cold—ghost cold. The kind of chill that sinks deeper than skin and doesn't go away, no matter how many layers you wear or how many nights pass.

Nat stares at the bag holding your bones—at you. Her fingers twitch again. She wants to open it. Wants to unzip it, lay you out, see you—but she's afraid of what won't be there. The parts of you that were taken, that they took, that she took.

Her throat tightens. She exhales sharply through her nose.

"'member what you said that one night?" she murmurs. "The night the plane crashed? That if you died out here, you wanted to go out with a bang?"

A weak laugh huffs out of her. Her hand moves slowly, trembling against her will, as it comes to rest over the bag.

"Well. I'm sorry it wasn't as exciting as you had hoped." A pause. "Y'did get eaten though, which you'd argue is pretty cool, but…" The laugh she attempts doesn't make it past an attempt—the sound coming out far more broken and frail than intended. "It wasn't supposed to end like this. Not you."

I woke underneath the trees For the first time

"Here," Shauna says quietly, holding out a pale heart with areas of purplish mottling to Nat, "you should be the one to do it."Nat's lip trembles as she delicately takes the heart—your heart—from Shauna's hand, cradling it like it might still beat. It's still cold from being in the elements for so long, a sharp contrast to the heat radiating from the fireplace. 

She debates speaking for a long moment, but decides that words wouldn't mean much right now, not in front of a crowd of people you had grown a strong distaste for in the previous months. 

Before she can talk herself out of it, she takes a bite out of your right ventricle, the taste of congealed blood and half-frozen viscera coats her tongue, metallic and wrong. 

She nearly gags. 

So, she swallows hard. Forces it down. As quickly as it entered her mouth, it leaves, sliding past the lump in her throat like it might claw its way back up.

Nat stares at the half-eaten heart in her hands, slick and heavy with blood that no longer belongs to anyone.

She can't do it.

Not all of it.

With a sudden, shaky breath, she stands and crosses to the fire.

"You don't deserve this," she mutters—not to you, but to them.

And before anyone can stop her, she tosses the heart into the flames.

It hisses as it hits the heat, blood bubbling on contact. The smell is awful, but Nat doesn't flinch. She watches it burn until it's blackened and cracked, until nothing that once loved or was loved remains.

Only then does she turn her back to the fire and let the rest of them have their feast.

"I'm sorry, y/n," are the last words she speaks to you as she takes off the necklace that dangles around her neck—a rifle bullet on a long silver chain—and places it into the bag where your bones rest, and will remain until the ground thaws.

Nat doesn't look back as she leaves the plane, but she never forgets how your inanimate body looked when she found you there—your once bright eyes dimmed and devoid of life, your once beautiful laugh snuffed beneath the oppressive weight of the winter snow.

No, Natalie never forgets you, just like she never forgives herself.

a/n: we take a break from our regularly scheduled angsty-smut for just angst. anyways, back to you, angsty-smut! (translation: 'light up floor' next)

[jigglyjeon]

karmic energy -> jjk (one)

summary: it's simple: you just want jungkook to stop being mean to jimin; he's too timid for his own good to put an end to his rough-housing. you take matters into your own hands, and you're confident a simple empathy spell would do the trick but it lands you in his shoes instead, and him in…yours? well, shit.

rating: R18+ MATURE, minors please do not interact

pairing: witch!fem reader x himbo!jk

genre(s): established relationship, 80s au, college au, slice of life, eventual smut

word count: 5.4k +

warnings/tags: body swap trope, based in the 80s, golden retriever!reader, elements of magic, fantasy themes, jock!jk (not by choice lol), older brother!jin, warlock!jin, nerd!jimin, swearing, bffs taehyung and jk, nudity, allusions to fingering and sex, the condom gets stuck LOL, extremely overly dramatic visit to the obgyn, themes of exploring sexuality and battling with it, taehyung is openly queer <3

notes: wanted to take a crack at something lighthearted, because i feel like my last few uploads have been so angsty/serious. this will be a fun challenge for me because i've never written anything like this before! it’s not a jigglyjeon special without a bit of fantasy/magic doe 😉 please let me know what you think pretty people <3

soundtrack: manic monday - the bangles // head over heels - tears for fears // mr. blue sky - electric light orchestra // karma chameleon - culture club

⋆ ࣪.  masterlist  ˖ ࣪⭑

next ->

You watch the smoke that arises from the cauldron with a narrowed glare, as if staring through the mist was going to change the fact that there was absolutely nothing happening.

Like, at all.

You stomp your foot with a pout on your lips, folding your arms over your chest when you look to your brother. But of course, he’s fucking laughing at you. Your fingers twitch with the desire to slap him over the back of the head.

“That was terrible, dear sister.” He wheezes, rubbing his forefinger and thumb over his temples to hide his eyes that were currently shaped like crescent moons, as he snickers at you. You glower, shoulders falling as you stare daggers at your older brothers toppling frame. “Just smack him on the ass with your broom stick and call it a day.”

“Can it, stinker.”  

The insult brings him down from the hysterical high that your failures induced in him, smacking his lips together with a loud pop. He despises when you call him that. Others? Fine, sure – funny even- not you, though. Not his kid sister. He clicks his tongue. “Play nice.”

“You started it, smelly.” You roll your eyes, turning back to the bubbling cauldron. “I was so sure it was going to work that time. Look, it’s bubbling.” You shove your hand in the direction of said bubbles, but Jin has to peak over the edge to catch what you’re referring to. The tiniest pop emerges from the black pot. He bites his lip to contain the snort that threatens to come out.

“Yeah, yeah! I can…see it.” He squeaks, clearing his throat. “Sort of.”

You go to scold him, but he speaks again, distracting you completely.

“So, you say you’re making a potion for your meat-head boyfriend–”

“His name is Jungkook.”

“–Right. Do remind me what it’s for again?”

You huff, twisting your body side to side as you mutter incoherently. You purposefully slur out your words quickly in hopes he doesn’t actually hear you.

“Yeah, you’re gonna have to speak up a little more for me to hear you there, Glinda the good.” He snorts with amusement.

“I want to cast an empathy spell on him!” You exclaim, throwing your arms out wide. It makes Jin flinch, and he clutches his chest at the sudden raise in your voice.

“Okay, yeah. I thought that’s what you said.” He brushes off his chest that’s clad in a white t-shirt, the same cursed one that he always liked to fold the arm cuffs on.

You would tease him and tell him he was trying so hard to look like Danny Zuko, but each time he would just wink at you with pride. He would tell you that it was exactly what he was going for. He would also say it in that annoying, and not to mention terrible, impression of him. John Travolta was probably recoiling somewhere in a penthouse in Los Angeles.

“Then what’d he exactly do that’s making you want to change him so bad?” He crosses his arms, raising an inquisitive brow.

“I-I don’t want to, I just–” You fiddle with your fingers, whingeing when his words only make you feel bad.

It’s not that you wanted to change him, Jungkook was your lover – now, forever, and always – it was just that, well, Jimin was such a nice person. Too nice for his own good, even.

He didn’t deserve the excessive patting against his back, purposefully done so that it had the frames that hung low on the bridge of his nose propellered onto the ground. You watched it unfold from a distance; he was on his way over to you but had come out of the building with Jimin beside him; the way Jungkook had gave him a faux apology, cooing at him as if he had unintentionally kicked a small puppy. He offers to pick up his glasses for him only to accidentally kick them further along the concrete.  

Jungkook smacks him on the shoulder as he laughs, it makes Jimin flinch at the sudden sting ringing on his bicep. He still lets out a small chuckle, no doubt to appease his bully, but it’s sheepish and small. He nods meekly when Jungkook bids him goodbye as if nothing had even happened. Why Jimin continued to treat Jungkook with kindness was beyond you.

Then, when you asked him to tone it down, he would proceed to excuse it to you as him showing Jimin brotherly love.

“This is just how guys show that they care for one another, babe.” He explains it to you as if it’s a foreign concept to you, and it kind of was. It didn’t really make a whole lot of sense to you. You had let it go for the first couple of times, because you did happen to know that Jungkook and Jimin have known each other since they were in high school. They were old friends, he had told to you.

“Jimin knows that I’m only joking around. Just pushin’ his buttons, a little, that’s all.” He promises you, following it up with a romantic kiss that makes you swoon. You make your usual heart eyes at him, and he knows he’s successfully curbed your disappointment. For now.  

Jungkook’s arm is already draped over your shoulder and greeting the friends you sat with. Your eye wanders back over to Jimin who had since crouched down carefully, holding out his arms as he taps frantically around at the ground to find his glasses because he couldn’t see all that well without them. You curl your lips to the side, fighting a pout, because it doesn’t seem all that much like a joke to you from where you’re currently standing.

But you knew Jungkook, and he had the biggest heart you’d ever encountered in a man of his calibur. Of course you were bias, you were his girlfriend after all, but that was precisely how you knew the truth about him. He was always there to help with no questions asked, and sometimes he just did things out of the own kindness of his heart. What you didn’t know is that he only really did that so he could feel useful to you.

You really were just a fool in love.

Jungkook knows he isn’t the brightest tool in the shed. He majored in music and arts and had gotten into the esteemed college purely with the help of his football scholarship. He never even really liked football all that much, but his father had thrown him into the sport when he was young.

Every time he approached his father with the sincere request of quitting because he hardly enjoyed it as much as he enjoyed the arts, his father would tell him the same thing. Every. Single. Time.

“Football gave me everything, boy.” He would say with a longing sigh. “My life, my job and even my wife. You’ll thank me for it one day— trust me.”

So…yeah.

Jungkook wasn’t allowed to quit playing football.

It didn’t even matter how much he begged it of his father, because according to him: football is love, football is life.

Sure, Jungkook had met his best friend, Taehyung, from playing football with him nearly his entire life, but even he didn’t care for the sport, really. Other than that? Everything else in Jungkook’s life had come from outside of football entirely. Aside from his scholarship, of course.

Like you, for instance; he had met you at a renaissance fair of all places— totally bogus, right?

He was at first drawn in by the soft melodies that played in the background. It was music and wherever there was music, Jungkook was there too. There was surprisingly only a small crowd around you watching, most people mindlessly walking by and indulging in the complete dweebery of the ren fair.

They were missing out, Jungkook had thought so, because there you were: looking so majestic. You were playing the harp with elf ears peeking out from beneath your hair, leafy vines purposefully entangled within your messy, thick braid. Maybe it was a good thing there weren’t many onlookers. He had locked in on you, and he was already starting to feel possessive. No one else could make them yours before him. That was a promise he had made to himself.

You had looked like a princess that had come straight out of a fantasy novel, with the v-shaped head piece draping down onto your forehead with an iridescent opal jewel in the middle. It had brought out the colour of your eyes, and he thought you had such pretty eyes.

It was as clear to him as it was to anyone else that had a pair of eyes— Jungkook was totally, irrevocably whipped over you from the very first moment he saw you.

But like, this random tall dude with black hair standing next to you playing the piccolo? Yeah, wasn't doing it for him; it was kinda killing the vibe, actually. Jungkook thought he looked goofy as hell swaying back and forth with his eyes shut like he was trying to summon something otherworldly to kill everyone there.

If it weren't for your pretty face, Jungkook may have accepted that fate.

But instead of bringing it to Taehyung’s attention so he’d have someone to laugh about him with, he moves in a little bit closer with his hands shoved into the pockets of his letterman jacket.

Sure, this ren fair he’s been dragged to was, well, to put it politely, a drag. He felt out of place completely, and because he wasn’t dressed in a pair of tights and wearing a flipping fedora with a feather like fucking robin hood, he was getting strange looks from people.

He would never admit it— but it made Jungkook feel a little bit small. Only just a little, though.

If there was one person in Jungkook’s life he couldn’t bully, it was Taehyung; he had one of the most terrifying poker faces he’d ever seen, even worse than his father’s, and if he were to ever piss him off? Well, he knows what would happen, he’s been on that end of the stick before. Never again.

Taehyung was intense, and some dumb special interest wasn’t going to make Jungkook risk being locked out of his dorm room with nothing but a sock on his cock. Not again. He shivers at the memory.

It haunts him.

Besides, he ought to thank Taehyung for dragging him to this circus, because when he saw you there, he swears his entire world had shifted on its axis— he thinks he may have also forgotten to breathe for a moment, too.

To say he was enthralled with your beauty felt like an understatement, and he had happened to enjoy the pretty music you played. You were humble about it, and you didn’t make any stupid faces while you did it. There’s a slight crease in your brow from concentration, your eyes trained in on your fingers moving gracefully along the strings of your harp. You didn’t seem to care if people were watching or not.

He approached you when the performance was done, asking you for your name and that was that. You learn quickly that you both attended the same college, despite never seeing each other before. It wasn’t that surprising since you both studied completely different things, as well as campus being rather large, too.

Jungkook still had to jump through hoops and hurdles to have you on his arm, though. You had him putting up a decent fight for your affections, being cautious of the fractious jock boy with big, brown eyes and a soft smile that made your tummy do flips. You initially thought there must’ve been some ominous undertones to his intentions. You weren’t a cheerleader and you weren’t in the best shape – you lose your breath every time you climb a flight of stairs – so what did he want with you?

A health science major who happened to secretly be a witch.

Him wanting you was the weird part.

It was rather hilarious to witness but also so incredibly chivalrous of him. He had your favourite flowers delivered to him every Sunday night, wishing you luck for the week ahead. He happened to be a super attentive listener, because it was you, and you actually happened to have some things in common with him. That you didn’t expect.

You were surprised to even learn he majored in music and arts and not something like business or sports medicine. He had seemed like the type, and he had mentioned he was an athlete, so naturally you had assumed.

“Alright, fuck. I didn’t ask for the entire timeline. Holy shit, lady.” Jin groans, holding up his hand to get you to stop talking. “Basically, what I'm getting out of this is that your big dumb ape for a boyfriend bully's his own friends for sport.”

You click your tongue at him, “Can you be serious for like, just a millisecond?”

“I am being serious.” Jin rolls his eyes, dragging you away from the cauldron and over to the table where your spell book is wide open. The pages are worn, slightly yellowed and the writing was in Hebrew. You had obviously tried your best to translate, because another book on the language is sprawled over the table next to it.

What? You may have been a witch, but that didn’t mean you automatically knew how to cast a spell? That was like, totally stereotypical!

Whatever.

“This is a recipe for rabbit’s foot soup.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

You whine, dragging your feet over to the black and purple chaise lounge, slumping your body into it. You want to sink into the cushions out of embarrassment. You look over at your brother who is flickering through the pages, wetting his thumb with his tongue as he swipes through them.

“Here.” He taps on the page, rummaging around the mess on your table. You perk up, bouncing up onto your feet again as you go to peak over his shoulder. Lo and behold, in big, bold, gothic letters: Empathy Spell.

You narrow your eyes, which can suddenly read the spell word for word. “Why can I understand it? I flicked through every page and didn’t see a single word that was legible!”

“I just changed the language." Jin shrugs. "It was really easy, actually."

“You can do that?” You gasp, ripping the ancient book from his hands, shoving your face between the pages. “Why didn’t you just say so!”

Jin blinks at you, watching you pace the room as you read the spell under your breath. “She can’t be serious.”  

“Wow, this is even easier than the soup recipe.” You raise your brow at the pages, folding it at the corners and shutting it as you walk back over to the cauldron.

“Yeah, but–”

“Thanks Jin, don’t need your help anymore.” You shoo him off with the wave of your hand.

“Y/N–”

“Get out of my room, you pesticide.” You flick your hand toward the door that opens at your silent command.

Jin rubs at his newly throbbing temples, knowing that you were done listening to him entirely. There was no getting through to you when you got into these types of moods.

Sisters, am I right? They only needed you when it was convenient to them.

“Fine!” He grouches, stomping toward your door. “But don’t come running to me when it all falls–” When he steps outside your room you slam the door shut from where you’re standing. “–apart.”

You’re too occupied with re-making the potion you needed in order to successfully cast a spell on you boyfriend to care that he’s pouting.

“Pesticide.” He parrots you with a scoff, “If I’m a pesticide that must make you the pest.” He spits at your closed door, but not loud enough for you to hear him.

He smiles to himself in satisfaction for getting the last laugh, at least that's what he tells himself anyway, before he turns on his heel to go about his day without the thought of his reckless little sister to ruin it.

But of course, that was just not going to happen. You were his little sister; you were always doing something reckless that he knew he’d have to fix for you later.

You are the luckiest sister in the world and he'd be damned if you didn't learn your lesson in regard to that.

He’d also be lying if he didn’t say he sort of enjoyed watching the chaos unfold too, though.

What he was trying to tell you was that because the spell was under the list of broad outcomes, the effects could differ. Which meant that the results would be unexpected.

Which meant that absolutely anything could happen— whatever the universe willed of the situation.

You were too eager, too stubborn to give him just a second to listen. But you were going to see Jungkook in about two hours! You didn’t have that kind of time to waste. It was now or never. And you were doing it for the greater good!

There was only one thing about Jeon Jungkook that wasn’t absolutely perfect, and that was the way he treated Park Jimin.

The moment you get the liquid into the small tube, you basically run all the way to his dorm.

When you knock on his door, he opens it and he’s all grins and you’re all giggles and he’s kisses all over your face.

What happens next wasn’t part of the plan.

Feeding him the potion was easy. You had poured the shot of purple liquid into his Coca-Cola, there was always a can cracked open in his dorm somewhere because he was addicted to the damn stuff, and he had downed his drink the moment he had returned from the bathroom.

You just couldn’t contain the shit-eating grin on your face.

“What is it? Why are you smiling like that?” He scrunches his nose, and you bite into your bottom lip but it only makes your smile look bigger, goofier.

“Nothing my love,” You giggle, standing up from the edge of his bed, throwing your arms loosely around his neck. “I just love you like, alot.” You kiss him, and he sighs into your mouth happily.

How you ended up here, though? Well, that was a complete blur to be honest.

How you wound up as naked as the day you were born, the side of your face pushed deeply into his pillows, ass up in the air. Your face is hot, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass as he spreads your cheeks apart. You whimper with embarrassment.

There was nothing sexy about this.

“I can’t see it, babe.” He sighs, he tilts his head to find your pouting face. “I’m sorry.”

Did you mention that he was naked too? Yeah, you were having sex just a moment prior to this. It was amazing, heavenly even. Until his thrusts became slow when he realised that the condom was no longer snug on his length.

That was why you were currently forcing him to look for it, because where the fuck else would it have gone?

If you weren’t so scary when you were panicking, Jungkook would probably be laughing. It was sort of silly.

But it’s kind of scary when you’re panicking like that. It makes Jungkook panic also.

You huff, flipping yourself onto your back, pressing your thighs against your chest, your arms locking behind your knees. “Keeping looking then!” You grit through your teeth.

Jungkook tries really hard to ignore the way his soft cock was springing back to life.

What? You were his girlfriend, and the way you were contorting your body for him was wildly sexy. It’s too bad it’s not because you want him to fuck you like this.

“Just–” you whine, your heart is racing. “Maybe you could pull it out?” He’s not paying attention. “Jungkook, hello?” You snap one of your fingers in his face, his eyes zeroed in on your pussy that’s still glistening with your juices. He blinks quickly, looking up at you. You’re scowling.

He snaps back into reality.

“Uh, you want me to stick my fingers in there?” His voice comes out an octave higher than he intends it to.

“Yeah, so? You’ve done it hundreds of times before, no?”

Not like this he hasn’t, but he has definitely curled his fingers inside of you more times than he can count on both hands, and he definitely needed all ten fingers to count.

But Jungkook’s hard again and his balls feel heavy. He sucks in a deep breath before he bends into action, one of his hands on your inner thigh as he gets his face close to your vagina and sticks a finger inside you.

You shuffle slightly at the feeling, but the room remains dead quiet. This was serious business, so that meant it was time for him to get his damn mind out of the gutter.

He swallows thickly as he feels around your spongey walls, but to no avail. “I– I don’t feel anything.” If the feeling of you contracting around his finger didn’t count.

A panicked whine leaves your lips as Jungkook pulls his finger out, staring in awe at his slick-coated finger. He doesn’t pay any mind to the way you’re rushing around, picking up your discarded clothes from all corners of the room.

He doesn’t pay attention to you, still completely focused on his finger. Not until you fall back onto his bed, now fully clothed. He wipes his finger on his bare thigh, reaching for his underwear to tuck away his genitals which have unfortunately been deprived of the wonderland that was your body. Better luck next time.

“Are you okay, baby?” The bed dips beside you when he sits down again. Your hands are pressed deeply into your face. You feel like clawing your eyes out.

“Well, someone’s gonna have to get it out of me.” You toss your hands off your face, throwing them beside you in a fit of dramatics.

“Okay, let me go with you.” He shrugs.

“You don’t have to.” You prop yourself up on your elbows, blowing at a strand piece of hair that falls over your face. “I don’t wanna burden you or anything. I’m sure you’re busy.”

“Nah, I’m never too busy for you.” He leans down to kiss your cheek. “Also, if I go with you, I can soften the blow. They’ll just look at me and go, so this is the dipstick that got a condom stuck inside his girlfriend, and they’ll feel bad for you. Over and done with!” He smiles at you as if it was the most genius thing he had ever said.

You narrow your eyes at him, but you can’t find it in you to be annoyed with him. He’s your little genius.

Sitting in the waiting area, it’s Jungkook’s leg that’s bouncing uncontrollably. You have one of your legs crossed over a knee, lightly kicking as you hum casually to yourself. You had calmed down considerably since walking in, and nobody had looked at your, or Jungkook, strangely for being there. You have to put your hand on his thigh for him to stop. You rest your head on his shoulder while you wait.

“Do you want me to come in?”

“It’s fine, baby. I don’t even know if you’re allowed.”

He ends up in the room with you around ten minutes later, you’re squeezing his hand so tight he thinks you’re cutting off his blood circulation. You’re shaking as the clamp digs around inside of you, scraping at your walls uncomfortably.

“It’s okay baby, it’ll be over soon.” He whispers to you, pressing his lips to your forehead. You pant quickly as she pulls the cold contraption out of you slowly, as to not long let the condom loose from the grasp it has on the condom.

It’s barely been five minutes.

“All done!” The nurse smiles brightly at you, bidding you goodbye just as quickly as she had greeted you both into the room.

“Cool.” Jungkook grins, throwing his arm over your shoulder and pulling you close to him to kiss your hair. “See? Over in a flash.”

You’re walking hand-in-hand out of the OBGYN, no longer clogged by a condom, when Jungkook tells you he needs to collect some notes from Jimin.

He had claimed that art history was the bane of his existence, and his failure to retain information he didn’t give a squat about had made it hard for him to do well. There were parts here and there that piqued his interest, but Jungkook just wanted to put his pencil to the paper. In fact, he would do just that and spend the time sketching doodles into the book he’s meant to be writing notes inside of. Jimin also happened to be in said art history class.

That’s how you ended up in the library, sitting across from Jimin, who’s jotting down notes for Jungkook. You rest your chin in your palms with your elbows propped up atop the table, watching your boyfriend swipe the glasses from Jimin’s face, squinting as he looks through the prescription lenses.

Jimin chuckles, a shy smile on his lips. “Give them back, Jungkook.”

“No can do– ah crap, that’s hella blurry.”  He swipes them off his own face, passing them over to you. “Try babe.”

Jimin keeps his head down, only passing you a fleeting, unreadable, glance. You deflate at the lack of attention he gives you. He had been nice to Jungkook but very blunt with you.

Even when Jungkook pushed down on his pen to cause him to scribble over the page. He only sighs, “That wasn’t funny, Kook.” He deadpans.

Kook?  You don’t even call him that. You call your boyfriend a plethora of other things: Honey, baby, babe, Koo even, but. This was a nickname exclusive to Jimin apparently. You lean back in your chair in observation.

“Here.” He shoves the notebook into Jungkook’s chest, barely able to hold eye contact with him.

“Wicked! You’re a legend, Park.” He pulls him into a side hug, pressing a playful kiss to the top of his head. He blushes. “Owe you one.” He pushes the chair back and stands up, flipping his pen out of his hands on the way out. It goes flying but Jimin’s eyes follow him, your curious one’s going unnoticed by him as you watch the way Jimin ogles your boyfriend.

Okay. You see, now. That sure makes sense.

“C’mon babe.” He rubs at your back, giving you a shameless smack to your behind that makes you yelp as the two of you leave Jimin back to his studies. You give him a once over, looking back at him to see him still watching the both of you, he drops his head the moment you catch him, scratching the back of his head.

You look up at your boyfriend with a pout. It was so clear to you now, having seen it unfold up close. Was it why he teased him so much? Did he know about it? No, surely, he would have told you all about it if he did, like he did with everything else he knew or learnt new.

He had told you all about Taehyung’s fluidity with his sexuality. He was unconventional in every sense of the world, and very unashamed about it too— it was admirable in this day and age. There was nothing wrong with loving whoever you wanted to love.

Jungkook had admitted that at first, he had felt a little uncomfortable but realised it didn’t change the fact that Taehyung was still Taehyung no matter what he decided to do in his spare time, and you were so glad he saw it that way.

You wish the rest of society would see it that way.

Taehyung would flirt shamelessly with not only you, even though he gets scolded by Jungkook for it over and over again, but literally anyone else with a pair of legs. That didn’t mean he was easy, no, not in the slightest— he was far from it, actually. It just meant he knew when someone looked good and wasn’t afraid to make that known. The only person that was exempt from his excessive flirtatiousness was Jungkook.

“Ew, that would be like…being with my brother or something.” Is what he says when you ask him about it one night, the three of you had cracked open two bottles of wine to share between you. “Besides, you’re much prettier…”

“Cool it, Taehyung.” Jungkook warns, smacking him at the back of his head. You shuffled closer to your boyfriend.

Maybe Jimin wasn’t as open about it as Taehyung was? You hardly blame him because, well, you knew as well as anyone how lucky you were to call Jungkook yours. But…it still didn’t excuse the way he just took Jungkook’s less-than-kind behaviour toward him. Still, you can understand a little clearer now as to why he did.

Or maybe you’re just overthinking this completely, maybe he was just meek and scared of a beat down. But they also seemed quite comfortable aside from the fact? They have known each other for a long time after all.

You spend the night in Jungkook’s dorm room, lost in your thoughts, his heavy arm draped over your waist. You’ve long kicked the blankets off yourself because his body was too hot against you because you don’t want to move him off you. He always whined and asked you why you didn’t love him. He was needy and overly affectionate despite his overall nonchalance towards life.

Eventually the soft sound of his breaths as he sleeps soundly beside you allows you to fall asleep.

You’re no stranger to morning wood; you had been woken up by it pretty much every morning you spent sleeping next to him. What you’re not used to is the heavy weight you feel on your crotch, a sensitive throb building up inside you. Why are you horny at the butt crack of dawn? You’re never aroused when you wake up, always swatting Jungkook away from you when he starts rutting against your ass.

But you feel him in front of you, and that was unusual because Jungkook hated being the little spoon. You groan when you attempt to sit up, sleep still riddling your sight. Your entire body hurts, your head throbs.

“Bab–“ Your mouth shuts the moment your voice leaves it. You hand reaches for your throat. Why did your voice come out so deep?

When your vision straightens out, and you look down at your boyfriend you let out the most blood curdling scream you can muster.

It sends him gasping in fear, rolling off the bed to get away from the noise. When he looks at you to complain, his eyes only widen, and he slowly lifts his finger to point at you.

“Babe?”

“Oh my god, oh my god.”

“Why am I looking at myself right now?” He taps at his throat, your throat, the same way you had earlier. He looks down at his new body. It’s your body. “Oh, what the hell?”

You feel lightheaded, you can feel tears welling up in your eyes “Koo…?” You’re sluggish when you call out for him, your vision is blurring again. “Oh god.”  Your body begins to tip over.

He scrambles to the edge of the bed to catch you, but shudders at the thought of touching himself. Your head hits the pillow anyway.

Jungkook clambers into the bed next to you, unsure how to comfort you when you look like, well, him. So instead, he just waits beside you, stretching out his limbs, wriggling his toes as he comes to terms with what’s happening. Honestly, he feels as light as a feather right now, and–

His hands tap around the body he knows so well, an experimental hand feeling up his torso, and…bingo.

Your tits.

“Wild.” He huffs out an amused breath. His hands dropping after giving them a gentle squeeze.

He falls back into the mattress, his hands resting behind his head, leg crossed over the other as he relaxes into the mattress with a heavy sigh.

If there was one thing Jungkook could say that he loved about you, it was that there was never a boring day spent with you.

©jigglyjeon 2025 all rights reserved

[draconic-desire]

🔹 Oculus Infinitum 🔹

Yandere Satoru Gojo x Reader

He’s infinity; in comparison, you’re nothing. So of course using your cursed technique on him backfires.

Warnings: 18+, MINORS DNI! Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationship, implied kidnapping, forced imprisonment, nsfw, non-con/dub-con, afab!reader, slight mindbreak

Infinity is often interpreted as the largest numerical magnitude to exist. And while that fact may be true in theory, infinity is better defined as the endless division of infinitesimally smaller and smaller values. One can be separated into half, half to a quarter, and so on, until the space between fractions almost ceases to exist.

Almost.

Gojo is a lot like infinity. Blame it on his technique, sure, but you suspect it runs much deeper than that. His actions never reach an end; instead, each one sinks further and further into your skin, fangs so small you barely feel them until it’s too late and the venom irreversibly invades your veins. He’s chipped away at you, piece by little piece, until you are the opposite of infinity; you are nothing.

On a surface level, most would say you have it pretty good. You (are trapped in) live in a huge home, filled with opulent furniture and all the luxuries you could ever want. You’re (expected to) allowed to cook meals for the two of you, including your favorite dishes. You still have (basic rights) privileges, such as free roam of the house, your own selection of clothes, access to the television and your phone (minus the ability to call or text, of course), even outdoor time with Satoru’s supervision. Why would you ever need to leave?

You had escaped, once.

Calling it an escape would be generous. Nothing ever happens without Gojo’s knowledge, without Gojo’s permission. How foolish you had been, to think you could evade his Six Eyes. Despite weeks of planning, he’d dragged you back home within the hour.

The chains hadn’t been removed for an entire month after that, and their lingering presence on each post of Satoru’s bed serves as a constant reminder that they’ll never rust.

Currently, you’re in the (not your, nothing is ever truly yours anymore) house’s lofty kitchen now, preparing dinner for his return home from work. Glancing up at the clock, you see it’s nearly time for him to arrive. You click the stovetop on and place a pot of water over the open flame, watching the blue fire flicker. Your thoughts immediately go to Gojo’s eyes, twin infernos of endless blue. Those eyes never seem to close, never seem to be too far from your own. They have the ability to lock you in place and throw away the key forever.

Moments later, the sound of the door opening and closing, along with the click of multiple locks, echoes from the hallway. Long, casual footsteps alert you to his presence behind you. His velvet voice, so languid and carefree, fans your ear as he settles his hands on your hips. “There’s my girl. Already making dinner for me?” He places a surprisingly chaste kiss to the top of your head. “Missed ya, baby.”

You add rice and a bit of salt and stir the pot in front of you in silence. When did you stop fighting him on that? On losing your full name to simple titles like girl and baby? The old you would have gagged at those pet names. The old you that kicked and bit the hand of your captor like a rabid animal, always fighting for freedom.

His grip tightens when you fail to immediately respond, though you hear him force a light tone to his voice. “What, curse got your tongue?”

Tension immediately floods your muscles. Gojo is a vain man; your silence maims his huge ego, something the most powerful jujutsu sorcerer will not stand for. You must react. “No, Gojo. I was just lost in thought, is all.”

You worry your lip when the quiet drags on. “I-I’m sorry?”

Gojo barks out a laugh, but his smile is strained and all fangs. “Back to Gojo again, huh?”

A mistake you notice too late. The spoon falls from your grip as you turn your head slowly. He’s still wearing his blindfold, but you know those infinite abyssal eyes are currently boring into your soul, daring you to speak. “Ah, no! Satoru, I mean—”

“Shh, baby. I get it.” His hands move to your shoulders, which he begins to massage. “Is it because you’re mad at me for neglecting you?”

To an outsider it may sound like he’s teasing, but you know all too well the creep of annoyance laced into his deepened, husky tone. “Or are you just being a brat?”

Swallowing, you place a hand on his toned forearm in an attempt to calm him. You feel him practically melt into the touch. “Truly, ‘Toru, I’m fine.” Your honeyed tone makes you sick, but you’ve learned it can subtly manipulate your captor in the right setting, usually this domestic fantasy world of his. “You’ve been so busy with work, and my mind has just been wandering. Why don’t you go sit while I finish up with the food?”

He hums absentmindedly, fingers swirling patterns across your abdomen. “I have a better idea…” Hot breath caresses your ear, eliciting a shiver. “Let me make it up to you.”

A deft hand snakes its way down the back of your bare thigh, barely ghosting across your skin. You can feel him, solid as a rock, yet you know there will always be space between you. He can touch you, but you’re powerless to do the same.

Just like in everything else, you can’t hold a candle to him. Your cursed energy is inconsequential, a tiny spark against his infinitive well of power.

Talk of your innate cursed ability is a topic you actively choose to avoid. Your technique, when activated, allows you to briefly control the thoughts and consequent actions of a single individual—but only after you’ve kissed them. And it often backfires tremendously, with the kiss causing overwhelming feelings of obsession or insanity in the receiver. From more than enough uses you’ve learned to see it as more of a curse in and of itself, and one you prefer to keep hidden.

Especially from the man behind you. Gojo—Satoru, you correct yourself—has enough twisted love that you wouldn’t dare try to possess his thoughts. The mere idea makes your throat tighten with panic.

Satoru’s technique, on the other hand, causes every nerve ending along your skin to explode as his hand falls beneath your skirt and skate across your barely clothed core.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he groans. “Are you wet for me, baby?” Before you can respond, Satoru easily moves your panties aside and spears you with his middle and ring fingers.

The invasion makes you jolt instantly. An involuntary gasp leaves you as he presses deeper, his fingers sheathed to the knuckle. You hate how your walls immediately tighten around him, slick with your arousal. No, you don’t want this, but Gojo gives you no choice in the matter but to practically ride his hand as he lifts your skirt with his other hand to get a better view.

“I’ll never get tired of this.” His thumb passes over your clit, pulling yet another shameful moan from your lips. Your tense demeanor only causes your pussy to accidentally squeeze him tighter, spurring him on. You try to pull your thighs together, but Satoru wrenches them apart easily with his other hand. “Oh, no, none of that. This pussy is mine.”

You squirm, grasping for something to get you out of this mess. “Satoru, stop, the food will burn—”

“Forget it,” he commands, ripping your skirt off. “We’ll order takeout after.”

Your heart drops. “After…?”

“Aw, you thought I’d stop here?” His condescension floods your ears. “No, babe, I’m only just getting started with you.”

His persistence, like infinity, has no end.

Without warning, Satoru removes his fingers from your core and swings you over his shoulder, smacking your bare ass and wrenching a yelp from you. You blanch when you realize he’s carrying you to the bedroom.

“Wait, Satoru—!”

You are unceremoniously thrown onto the bed, said white-haired sorcerer towering above you. He pounces immediately, locking your limbs in place. Satoru must see the fear, the readiness to engage in fight or flight, across your face, because he brushes a tender hand across your cheek to wipe away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” he teases, but it somehow sounds like a threat. His fingers, still coated with your arousal, hook around your thong and slide it down your legs. “You’re acting like this is our first time or somethin'.”

Oh, it was far from the first time that he had touched you or been inside of you. But something about today, about this time, sends fear skittering across your whole being. Perhaps it’s all the reminiscence lately, or the fact that your thoughts drifted to your innate technique for the first time in weeks. Panic sinks its claws into you.

Breath ragged, heart pounding, you grab his face in both hands and react without thinking; for the first time since he kidnapped you, you willingly kiss Satoru Gojo and activate your technique.

Satoru immediately reacts, deepening the kiss and pressing you more firmly into the mattress until you feel as if you’re nearly suffocating.

Release me, you project into his mind, threading a hand through his white locks and squeezing hard.

The world suddenly goes very, very still.

Satoru freezes. Slowly, painfully, he parts his lips from your own and straightens his arms against the mattress to hover above you once more. His breath comes out in jagged huffs. The only sound that remains is the unending tick, tick, tick of the clock on the wall, bringing you closer to your doom.

For a second, you almost believe your technique worked.

That is, until he quickly sheds his blindfold, and you are meet with those stunning, terrifying, brilliant, paralyzing blues. He whispers your name with a foreign stillness that chills your bones to ice. “Do you…have a cursed technique?”

What an idiot you are to have thought you could sneak past Satoru Gojo’s barriers and Six Eyes. You can’t touch his physical form; why would his mind be any different?

It takes all of your willpower to withhold the panicked, hysterical laugh threatening to escape you. “Look, I can explain—”

Satoru leans back on his knees, one hand carding through his hair as he looks up to the ceiling. “God, babe, I knew you could see curses and harbored cursed energy, but here you go surprising me!” He laughs, a gleeful chuckle that has you reeling.

“You’re not…mad?” you dare to ask, inching your knees towards your chest. Maybe your technique failed, but you can still buy some time and get into a safer position.

Satoru gazes down at you, head tilted and a full grin on his lips. “Mad? Baby, why would I be upset when for the first time in our relationship, you were the one seducing me?”

Oh, no. No no no no no.

Grabbing your ankle, he drags you back to a supine position, your pussy on full display for him. He licks his lips at the sight. “Plus, you trying to get inside my head was cute and all. Weak, but you gave it your best!” He laughs again, and you realize that he never took you seriously, not even for a second.

The thought should enrage you—it would have infuriated the old you—but all you can manage now is a low whine as his hands go for his belt.

Satoru pulls himself free, his already hard cock pulsing in anticipation. Precum beads at the tip as he lines himself up with your entrance. “What was it you asked me for? Release, right?”

Your eyes bulge at his implication. “Wait, Satoru, I didn’t mean—!”

You barely have time to react as he buries himself in you completely. A choked sob bubbles up your throat as you breath through the stretch of him.

Satoru moans in ecstasy as he begins a steady pace, thrusting mercilessly into that squishy spot deep inside your core that has you seeing stars.

“Kiss me again.” It’s light and breathless, but it’s an order, not a request. Fear makes you comply immediately, though your kiss is a hesitant, timid thing compared to your earlier attempt to sway him.

He’s having none of that. No, Satoru had a taste of your affection, and now he’ll tolerate nothing less than your full reciprocation. If only you could truly peer into his mind and see that no amount of your cursed energy would change him; your being was already permanently imprinted on his brain. You were his perfect doll, held in the palm of his hand.

Nails rake down his back as you arch against the mattress. Every time he thrusts, he grinds against your clit, and you feel yourself chasing your finish. You hate this, you want it to stop, but you can’t help—

“Please, Satoru,” you plead without thinking, meeting his limitless eyes. You feel yourself drowning in them, a blue sky that never ceases.

For a split second, his rhythm hesitates. “…Say that again,” he whispers, almost reverently. “Beg for me.”

You’re not quite sure what you’re asking for. “P-please, I can’t take it anymore, please let me—!”

“Choose your next word carefully,” he warns, voice shifting to a low growl as his hand moves to your throat, adding ever so much pressure.

Tears streak your vision. The embarrassment of your technique failing and the lewd position he has you in all crash down upon you, and another piece of you breaks. “Please let me cum,” you concede.

To your dismay, his pace slows, and you cry out in protest as your orgasm fades. “I just need you to do one more thing for me, baby.” He leans into your neck, nipping and sucking at all your sensitive spots, torturing you even further. “Tell me you love me.”

Alarms should be blazing through your head, but the fog of your arousal clouds your judgement as you seek your climax.

That piece of your soul he took shatters into a million shards as you whisper, “I love you, Satoru.”

The two of you shatter simultaneously. You register all too late the warmth invading your core as Satoru pumps his cum deep inside you.

He’s never come in you before.

Your name is murmured over and over like a prayer against your neck—or maybe it’s a curse. You jolt in overstimulation when he pulls out and bends down to place a kiss against your puffy folds. “So good for me, baby. This perfect pussy belongs to me.”

He kisses you a final time, long and slow. When he pulls away, a languid smile sweeps across his features. “You’re all mine, (Y/n). Even your mind.”

With the use of your innate technique, you’ve dug your own grave for good. Satoru will never let you go now.

After all, infinity is indivisible.

[etherealyoungk]

new beginnings - jeon wonwoo

summary: in which a certain someone starts getting extra clingy to you, leading you to find out you're pregnant.

pairing: husband!wonwoo x fem!reader

themes: established relationship, terms of endearment, pregnancy, fluffy, comfort

warnings: reader is pregnant, mentions of nausea, throwing up, anxiety, vague mentions of intimate relations, cats

wordcount: 2.1 k

a/n: just a random idea i had and thought might be cute

you come home a bit later than usual, the smell of something delicious wafting in the air, welcoming you as you step inside your cozy home. you walk in and spot wonwoo in the kitchen, busy stirring something in a pot as you discard your bag on the couch, spotting oreo, wonwoo's cat curled up on the other end in a peaceful slumber.

you slowly make your way towards wonwoo. "hey", you say, as you stand next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. "hi love", he responds immediatily as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as you nod. "long day?", he asks, taking in your tired expression as you nod your head.

"you're home early", you point out, as you hook your arm around his, watching him stir the pot of soup carefully so that the ingredients wouldn't stick to the bottom and burn.

"yeah, i wanted to surprise you", he says, looking at you. you smile at his words and he smiles back at you. you let go of his arm and busy yourself with setting up the table. you and wonwoo had sweet love story and were now living a happy married life, and you couldn't ask for anyone else to spend it with. wonwoo was just your person and you were his.

but wonwoo's cat on the other hand was another story. you could say that she didn't really have a thing for you. oreo had never bonded with you, and you were only allowed to give her the occasional pet before she'd walk off, uninterested in you. orea never got cuddly with you like she did with wonwoo. you were bummed at first but you decided that maybe she'd grow into you later it. but it looked like you were just going to be a side character to her.

wonwoo asks you about your day as you both eat, but he's also acutely aware of how little food you've served yourself and how you've barely touched the soup he made. "not hungry?", he prompts after a while. "i am, i'm just a little tired", you tell, feeling a bit bad because wonwoo had made your favorite soup and you barely felt like eating it. you force yourself to have at least a few spoonfuls of the spoon and finish up your rice.

it's two am and you wake up feeling nauseous so you sit up, hoping that would ease the feeling but it didn't. it was like wonwoo was so in tune with you that he could always tell when you're awake and you heard him stir beside you. "are you okay love?", he asks, his voice laced with sleep.

"just a little nauseous", you tell softly, feeling umcomfortable.

"should i make you some peppermint tea?", he asks, now sitting up beside you. he doesn't wait for your answer as he heads to the kitchen to make it for you regardless. he comes up and places the steaming mug of peppermint tea on your bedside table, as he sits down next to you. his hand finds yours as he laces his fingers in your hand, looking at you, worried. after a few sips of the tea, you feel slightly better and you're now cuddled in wonwoo's arms as you lay your head on his chest, his hands holding you safe from the world.

you feel the bed dip again as oreo, wonwoo's cat jumps on the bed, walking towards you both. you look at her, ready for her to go towards wonwoo but instead, she comes up to you and settles next to you. "baby are you seeing this", you tell, shocked. "looks like she's finally warming up to you", he jokes and it was like oreo understood and she meows as she looks at you before curling up beside you.

you fall asleep only to wake up an hour late as you rush into the bathroom and throw up, feeling horrible and absolutely terrible. you feel wonwoo's hand on your back a few moments later as he rubs it gently to help you. he then helps you up and you clean yourself up before he helps you back in bed.

that whole week, you battle with nausea, throwing up either in the morning or night, and feeling tired and fatigued all of a sudden. you try to brush it off, blaming it on the stress or just the flu, but wonwoo insists on going to the doctor to figure out what is going on.

you take a sick leave the next day and you're sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone when oreo comes up to you again, sitting on your stomach, giving you a little meow as she closes her eyes and goes into her meditation. you smile, feeling like you were being blessed by her presence lately. she'd started to get cuddly with you the past week and you were surprised but happy because otherwise you were going to think she was going to hate you forever.

you're aimlessly scrolling through your phone when you come across a video of a cat sitting on a lady, much like how oreo was sitting on you and as the video goes on, the lady explains how she found out she was pregnant because her cat started to get extra cuddly with her. your brain pauses and you glance at oreo, who's in a peaceful slumber on your stomach. you quickly open google, typing in if cats can tell if a person is pregnant and you gulp as you read articles and information that shows up and things slowly start adding up in your mind. this would explain all the nausea, the weird mood swings you've been having and the fatigue you've been experiencing the past two weeks. oh my god.

you gently move oreo off you, apologising to her as you grab a coat and slip on your shoes, heading to the nearest pharmacy to buy a pregnancy test. you buy two to give yourself the benefit of the doubt and now you're in your bathroom as you wait for the results of pregnancy tests. you stand a few steps back, nervous to see the results.

sure, you and wonwoo had talked about having kids of your own and it was something you both did want. you both had also taken care and been careful whenever you were intimate with each other. but now as you stand in the bathroom all alone, a feeling of dread engulfs you and pools in your stomach. you move towards the countertop and look at yourself in the mirror. it was going to be okay you thought ou close your eyes and take a deep breath and you finally find the courage to look down at the pregnancy tests laid out in front of you. you blink down as you see two lines on them bioth and let out a shaky breath as you try to ground yourself.

you didn't tell wonwoo that evening, still trying to take everything in but mostly because you didn't know how to. you were unsure and scared. but when he comes home tonight, you can't seem to hold onto this secret anymore as it seems to be eating you alive. when he comes home later that evening, you're quick to greet him as he shrugs off his blazer, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. you give him a kiss as you ask him about his day. he walks into the bedroom to change and you follow him. "what's going on in that pretty little mind of yours", he asks as he loosens his tie and takes off his watch. "how do you know something is going on?", you ask. "because you only follow me around when you have something you want to get off your chest", he tells, coming towards you. you find it sweet that he's picked up on his piece of information and observed, he knew you too well.

"okay fine, i do have something to tell you", you say finally as you move closer to wonwoo. you look up at him and he patiently waits for you to speak. but as you're looking at him and trying to find the right words and how to get them out, you find yourself getting overwhelmed with emotion all of a sudden and you're tearing up. your gaze flickers to the side of the room and down before you look back up but wonwoo is keen to pick up on his.

"what's wrong sweetheart?", he asks as you try with all your might to hold the tears in, trying to blink back your tears, but you can't and they flow down your cheeks and before you know it you're crying. wonwoo pulls you into his arms, his hand running up and down your back softly in an attempt to soothe you. "did something happen?", he asks, worried as his gaze softens.

you sniffle as you look at him, still in his arms. "no- i-i- don't know why i'm crying god i feel like an idiot", you tell as wonwoo cups your face, gently wiping away your tears with his thumb. "you're not", he assures you and he holds your gaze as he looks at you sweetly, not forcing you to say anything.

he gently moves you to the bedside and sits you down looking at you deeply, a hit of worry laced in his gaze. you'd been off this entire week and he was worried.

"are you okay?", he asks again, gently as he looks at you, his hand intertwined in yours.

"i-im pregnant", you finally tell softly and in the quiet room it was like your words echoed in the air. wonwoo blinks at you and you can see the wave of emotion he goes through.

"i took a pregnancy test, two in fact and they both came back positive", you add, looking at wonwoo to see his reaction.

"you're pregnant", he repeats like he was testing how the words would sound on his lips. "we're pregnant", he says again and you nod.

"i'm pregnant", you tell, tearing up again. "we're pregnant", you say again.

you find yourself tearing up again and wonwoo cups your cheek. "but what if i'm not ready, i'm scared", you add softly and wonwoo is quick to embrace you in another hug.

"i think, no i know that you're going to be a great mother love", he tells. "and remember, you're not alone in this, i'm right here and i'll be here with you every step of the way", he adds as he hugs you tighter.

you pull away, looking at him and you smile. "i love you", you say. " i love you more", he says, making you smile.

"i can't believe we're going to be parents", he says in a soft excitement as he kisses your forehead.

"you know, oreo was the first one to know", you say and he furrows his brows in confusion.

"what do you mean?", he asks, his hands resting on waist. "that's why she's been so clingy and cuddly to me these last two weeks. she knew i was pregnant, cats can sense it", you explain and his interest is piqued by this piece of information. "should we make a bet on if oreo's going to befriend our kid or not", he says and you snort, chuckling at his suggestion. god how you loved him and his silly antics. "i'm gonna bet she will befriend him, she already has technically", you add before leaning in wonwoo's chest again.

-bonus scene-

you're laying on the couch, now six months along your pregnancy and your bump is growing healthily. wonwoo's been so sweet and supportive throughout it all, from helping you when you were puking your guts out from morning sickness to getting you all your pregnancy cravings even if they were weird.

you hear the door open, wonwoo walking in with takeaway from your favourite cafe because you were craving a red velvet cake. he triumphantly lifts the bag as he walks in, putting it down on the table as he sees oreo perched on your belly.

"i think out kid is going to be a cat lover", wonwoo says. "imagine if they're not", you add as wonwoo hands you the cake box and you take it, the sweet smell already filling the air. you take a bit and sigh, content and offer wonwoo a bite.

just then you feel the baby kick and oreo looks alert, wondering where the little movement came from as she looks around and looks at you with a questioning look. "baby, did you see that?", you ask. the baby kicks again and oreo looks around again and glances at your belly before meowing at you and you chuckle. "aww she felt the kick", you tell. wonwoo smiles as he looks at you, his heart overflowing with love as he thinks about how lucky he is and how grateful he is

taglist: @biboramp3 @naaaaafla @slytherinshua @weird-bookworm @icyminghao @blue-jisungs @wootify @idubiluv @n4mj00nvq @joshuaahong @itsveronicaxxx @fallingforshua29 @frankenstein852 @lvlystars @mirxzii drop an ask if you want to be added to my permanant taglist!

[ccoeurhee]

ղᥱvᥱɾ oᴜɾs ˖⁺— 2.

highschool bsf!hee × f!reader

unrequited maybe later requited love, smut | angst | comfort,what not. friends with benefits, happy ending maybe, maybe a little toxic idk.

synopsis : he only knocks when he’s broken. and every time, you let him in. even when he’s never been yours to begin with. but maybe this time, when he returns, it won’t be to borrow your love. maybe it will be because he finally knows that it's always been you.

1.

wc: 954

₊˚ʚ ᓚᘏᗢ 𖹭 🦌 ˚˖⁺

funny. he doesn't even remember leaving his sweater here. and now it clings to his shoulders like an old piece of him that he's getting back after a long while. a piece you could never throw away.

he walks around, looking at things that feel familiar, too familiar.

like the frame of your highschool graduation that lays cold on a shelf nearby. graduation, the day he decided to let go and find another home. in someone else. someone who wasn't you.

he ends up finding his way to your kitchen. leaning against the doorway with hands in his pockets, a used towel hangs around his shoulders, damp hair letting drops of water trail down the back of the old sweater he’d left here months ago. ten, maybe.

the fabric smells slightly musty, with echoes of known memories.

his eyes fall on you, you're standing at the counter with your back to him. you quietly cook, shrugging off the weight of his faraway gaze on your shoulders.

it's too careful, too distant. he doesn't see you.

always from afar as it always has been, he's busy searching for something else in your presence, never allowing himself too close.

your shoulders stay stiff, afraid that if you turn, you'll be met with eyes that don't really look at you.

he wants to move closer. wrap his arms around your waist, feel the warmth of your skin, the rise and fall of your breath. but he doesn’t.

instead, he walks to you—near you and settles at half an arm’s length away. he rests lightly against the counter, you don't notice him as his gaze flicks to the stove.

“ramyeon?” he asks, voice soft enough to come out as a whisper.

you startle, sighing once you catch sight of him beside you. “hm? yeah...”

a low chuckle escapes him. “that’s my favourite.”

and you're thrown off for a moment. right, it's his favourite, you remember as you glance at the pot infront of you. you didn't even realise.

“oh... i just... i had it in the fridge,” you murmur, words stinging your throat as you avoid his eyes. it’s been so long. do you still know each other like you used to?

you steal a glance at him, quick and nearly hesitant. he looks different now. a little broader at the shoulders, arms slightly bulkier, but he's still the same in all the ways that hurt.

the way the corners of his eyes still crease when he smiles. the way his voice softens and his head dips lower whenever he speaks to you.

does he know that you see it all? see him all? but none of that belongs to you anymore, and it hasn't for a long time.

you're afraid to reach out, even when he’s right here. he's not yours to hold, you know it. his heart belongs to her.

.

you eat in silence. the air around warm, but nothing less than stifling to you. you smile once or twice when your eyes meet. small, forced smiles that make your chest hurt more the longer he sits there.

for him though, sitting down across from you at the small table, rain pouring outside, hot bowl of food infront of him, it feels like home. a place he's longed to be at before he even left. you're being so kind, but he’s not sure he deserves it.

his mind races with things he wants to say as he erratically shakes his leg under the table. he's got questions to ask, things to clarify, although you haven't asked for anything, not what happened, why it happened, how it happened, but his words are barricaded by something he can’t name.

you glance at your phone buzzing on the table, then at him. "excuse me."

the formality. he notices it sharp and biting. none of you had ever been used to talking this way with each other.

his fingers curl, fist tightening. then again, what right does he even have...to feel this way anymore?

he heaves out a shaky breath.

he hears you mumble sweet endearments to the caller. he wants to ask. who was that?

but the question knots in his throat. and before he can prepare himself to speak, you set the phone back down.

“my niece,” you tell him, light and offhand.

he exhales, relaxing. of course. how could he forget the little kid whose advice could've saved him years of what he believes to be an unreciprocated heartbreak?

.

later, as he helps you clear the table, his hand brushes against yours. unintentional but the brief heat of his skin against yours only makes your heart thump louder. you both pull back, quick in action.

.

and when the time comes to say goodnight, he stands infront of you in the hallway, gulping like a toddler afraid of getting yelled at for not finishing his homework.

"good night." he mumbles, arms cautious before he wraps it around your shoulders.

your arms stay still at your sides, you can barely hug him back. “goodnight.” the feigned smile on your lips somehow aches straight through your ribs.

his hold tightens, just a bit too tight, and lingers just a second too long. with his breath warm on your temple, you would assume he's hesitating to let go. as if he never really wanted to. but you know better than anyone else to ever let yourself do that again.

he lets you go at last.

his fingers trail away from your arms slower than they should. gaze unreadable but there's a flicker, of guilt—hesitation—yearning in the way his hands hover midair before falling to his sides.

with a sigh, he watches you leave to your room. keeping himself company in the dark for a while with agony huge enough to devour you both, before he settles himself in your guestroom.

chap 3 unlocks after 50 reblogs

📎masterlist

taglist :

@hseungie , @snowprincehoon , @keehoes , @nodoubtily

question of the day :

do you know what he's searching for? does he? in your presence, your embrace, your silence?

..

incase you did not consent to being added to my taglist well—

:P

[bullet-prooflove]

The Farm Boi Series: Bison Daddy - Dennis Whitaker x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @cosmic-psychickitty @sargeant-sad-eyes @caffeinatedwoman @hooks-martin

Summary: Dennis shows you a whole new side after a baby bison is rejected by it's mother.

Companion piece to:

Peppermint - The taste of peppermint will always have a special place in Dennis’s heart.

The Morgue Thing - A miscommunication between you and Dennis almost ends things before they begin.

Written In The Stars - Your first date with Dennis takes place underneath the stars.

In The Park - Dennis reveals a secret after the two of you spend the night together in the park.

Virgin - There’s a rumour going around about Dennis.

Debauched (NSFW) - Karaoke night ends a lot differently than it did the first time around.

Symphony (NSFW) - Dennis has never eaten pussy before…

Pretty Boy (NSFW) - You and Dennis take the next step in your relationship.

Firsts (NSFW) - Dennis experiances alot of firsts during your first night together.

Permanent Marker - You find out about the betting pool.

Denny’s To Do List - Dennis realises he’s in the midst of a sexual awakening.

The Porn Boom (NSFW) - Dennis isn’t like the other man you’ve been with.

Bite (NSFW) - Dennis doesn’t mean to edge you.

Wild Flowers - A crown of wildflowers leads you and Dennis to discuss the issues he has with his family.

A Friend of Denny’s - Your relationship with Dennis takes a turn when his parents come to town.

A Cold Day In Hell - Dennis tries to make amends for his actions.

Gardens of Babylon - Dennis has made his choice, now it's time for you to make yours.

My Future Wife - Dennis makes a promise to you at Jana's celebration of life event.

Dennis isn’t in the bed when you wake up. The sun is shining through the white gauzy curtains and there’s an empty space beside you amongst the fleece lined sheets. He warned you about this, about how his body clock reverts to farm hours when he’s here.

You throw on a pair of jeans and a white tank top before making the journey down the stairs.

The entire house is quiet, there’s just the sounds of the farm emitting through the open stable door as you help yourself to the coffee pot. There’s a mug already set out for you, one covered in tiny cartoon cows. You smile at the sight of it, recognising Dennis’s touch.

You take your coffee exploring with you. You didn’t get to see too much of the farm yesterday as you’d been swept up with the rest of the Whitaker family. You didn’t realise the expansiveness of the operation, from the trees in the cherry orchard to the herd of bison roaming around the pastures, their calves clinging to their sides as they chomp at the grass.

You hear Dennis’s dulcet tones as you stride towards the barn, the low, soothing cadence of his voice fills your ears as you pop your head through the doorway to see who he’s talking to.

Your heart stops because what you’re seeing, it simply can’t be real. Things like this don’t happen outside of those cowboy romance books you read.

Dennis is sitting on the dusty floor of the barn, his back resting against a couple of hay bales. Nestled against him is a bison calf, her head lying in his lap as he feeds her from a litre bottle of milk. His palm strokes through the fur on her neck as the calf guzzles greedily, tongue lapping at the rubber teat.

“You know I couldn’t fall more in love with you right?” You murmur as you lean against the doorframe. He glances up, that handsome smile crossing his features when he sees you standing there, watching him.

“Phyllis’s mom rejected her.” He says sadly, scratching underneath the calf’s chin. “It’s a trickly thing with bison, they’re more wary of humans than cows. They don’t have a great survival rate being bottle fed because they fight it tooth and nail. You have to make them understand that you’re trying to help them, that the bottle is actually food.”

“She seems to be taking to you.” You remark as you take a sip from your coffee mug.

“Trust me she tried to charge me more times than I can count.” He says affectionately, his eyes warm as he looks down at her. “I’m gonna be covered in bruises tomorrow but we seem to come to an agreement haven’t we baby girl?”

The bison snuggles in closer and your heart melts just a little bit more. You’re gonna end up taking this thing home, you think. You’re gonna be the first people in Pittsburgh to have a bison as a pet.

“This was what your brothers were talking about isn’t it?” You say, recalling the conversation from last night about Dennis’s affinity for animals. How he’d nurse them to health, make a friend for life that would follow him around the farm while he did chores. Your man, he was always meant to be a healer, he just didn’t understand that until much later on. “That chicken with one wing, Tripod the dog, animals, they just love you don’t they?”

“Pretty much.” He responds, his eyes fixed on the bottle as the milk level drops below the rubber nipple. He withdraws it from the calf’s mouth and she whines trying to chase it. “You have had enough for now.” He tells her booping her on the nose with his fingertip. “It’s time to get you back into your stall.”

He slips out from underneath her, setting the bottle down on the ground before he raises to his feet. He uses his palms to brush the hay from his jeans as the calf stands up, following his lead.

He tries to lead her towards the stall but it becomes abundantly clear that his baby bison does not want to be separated from her new caregiver. Dennis tries everything, pushing her, lifting her, slapping her on the rump, he even tries to crowd her in but instead she rubs her cheek against his denim clad thigh.  

“So you’re planning on following me around all day huh?” He asks her, his palm stroking over the top of her head. “You gonna help me mend Nana’s fence? Maybe try a few cherries when me and Lola go picking in the orchid.”

The bison snorts and you both take that as a yes.

“Is she our baby now?” You ask him as he walks towards you, Phyllis trotting closely on his heels.

“For the next couple of days until I can get her to bond with Rick.” Dennis tells you as the two of you step out into the sunshine. “He’ll try to reassimilate her into the herd in a couple of months when she weans onto solid food. He’s done it a couple of times when a momma has died or a calf has been abandoned. It just takes some time and a lot of patience.”

His fingers thread through yours as he guides you back towards the house at a slow amble, Phyllis following closely behind.

“Do you miss this?” You ask him, using the mug to gesture at the surrounding farm. “It kinda feels like you’ve fallen right back into it, like you haven’t lost a step.”

“Sometimes.” He says, his thumb tracing over the tattoo on the hollow of your wrist. “But this place, it doesn’t quite feel like home anymore. It’s more like a working vacation.”

You thought that this would happen when he first mentioned the trip. It’s easy to fall back into old patterns when you’re back with family. There’s a sense of obligation there that you can never shake.

“How about after this we take a real vacation?” You say, nudging him with your shoulder. “We could go for a cabin kinda thing, where I sit on the porch and watch you chop wood or the beach where we can skinny dip in the sea…”

“I like both those options.” He tells you, leaning in close, his mouth brushing over yours. “Lying you down in front of the fireplace on a sheepskin rug, making love to you on the beach. I can’t decide which one I’ll enjoy more - Ow Jesus!” He looks down to see Phyllis staring up at him with those shiny dark eyes of hers, she huffs and he shakes his head. “We are going to have to have a real conversation about butting people for attention Phyllis.”

You laugh as you draw apart but Dennis he captures your hand again pulling you back to him.

“She’s gonna end up coming to the wedding with us isn’t she?” You say as you look at the bison and imagining her wearing a flower crown as she trapses down the aisle.

“That…” Dennis says as he tickles the calf’s chin with his fingertips “…is a very realistic possibility.”

Love Dennis? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[hehe-69]

Bonfire part 9

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

This song + Jacob x reader😩

Warnings: •LIL BIT OF WOLFPACK• •SUGGESTIVE MATERIAL• •SOFT JACOB• CURSING •CLIFF DIVING• •Awkward Swan Dad Charlie• •HINTS OF SUB JACOB BALCK•

YOURE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION

“No thing defines a man like love that makes him soft and sentimental”-Noah Kakan

Summary: After spending so much time with the Wolfpack. Jacob decides it’s time for the two of you to spend some one on one time together. (I got dragged into more Wolfpack moments, but don’t worry, the rest will be Jacob and reader.)

Tage List: @coldonez

—————————

After you all give up on beating Embry or Leah at Muggins. You move onto twister, and it’s a disaster.

———

While your waiting for Sam to find the mat for twisters. Embry asks Quill to throw him some nature valley bars from the kitchen.

“Shit thanks man.” Embry says as he catches one of the bars Quill throws him. But Quill just keeps throwing them. “Shit thanks man.” Embry repeats laughing as he catches another one.

The fifth one doesn’t make it to Embry, instead it hits you in the head. You were off to the side talking with Jacob as it hits you, Quill goes oh shit and starts laughing. You’re wheezing and Jacob is trying so hard not to laugh, asking if your okay because it hit you square in the face.

———

It’s Paul, Embry, Quill, and Jared in the mat. Couple of spins in Embry and Quill get caught in a comprising position.

Quill is bent over Embry’s back caging him in as they are both trying to stay on their colors. “Huh, I always thought Embry would be the top.” Jared teases, and as Paul has to move his right leg to green he horse kicks Jared in the gut “by accident.” And Jared tumbles over and loses.

“Karmas a bitch.” Paul says laughing to himself.

Paul and Embry end up tying, after it becomes apparent that both of them are surprisingly very flexible.

Shout out to @coldonez for this glorious idea

———

Next up is you, Seth and Jacob who you and Seth had to practically bully into playing. Jacob was adamant that he wasn’t flexible enough for this game. And he was right.

“Come on Jacob.” You say through a fit of laughter. “Blue is right there you almost got it.” Jacob is shaking laughing trying his hardest to reach the blue. Finally he stretches far enough to finally put his left hand on it.

And you and Seth can’t stop laughing. Jacob’s ass is in the air and he’s bent over across your body. And Seth is twisted in and awkward position with his face fight under Jacob’s ass. “Seth can see your past, present and future.” Paul laughs out. “Okay hurry up and spin so I can get out of this position.” Jacob’s face is beat red. And your wheezing so hard you end up falling down, and you lay there in a fetal position trying so hard to stop. Seth ends up following you as he is dying laughing.

Jacob ends up winning by shear luck alone.

———

Eventually you all have to move on to monopoly via Sam’s request, after a match of twister between Leah and Paul gets really heated. Those two are way to competitive to play a match one on one.

You don’t participate, you know what monopoly does to friendships…it rips them apart and eats them alive. But you do watch as pretty much everyone else plays except for you, Jacob, Quil, Seth and Emily.

“I’m suprised you aren’t playing Quil.” You say as he sits and watches the game. “Oh I learned the hard way that it’s much more enjoyable watching then playing.” Quil laughs. “They all slowly lose their shit trying to beat Sam. Embry just plays to stir the pot, and piss off Paul.”

“It’s pretty funny.” Jacob admits with a shy smile. You grin at him. “You’ve always been a sucker for drama.” You tease lightly and Jacob laughs but doesn’t even attempt to dyne it. Instead he pulls you close as you watch the chaos unfold.

———

“WHAT THE FUCK EMBRY YOU DONT EVEN NEED THAT HOUSE!” Paul shouts, Embry bought a house on the block Paul was working hard to own. “No I don’t.” Embry says grinning. “But you did, so I bought it before you could. It’s called strategic thinking.”

“NO ITS CALLED BEING A FUCKING BITCH!” Paul hisses out.

———

“Sam played monopoly a lot growing up.” Emily explains sitting next to you on a couch. “Him and his dad used to play every Sunday.”

“That explains why he’s so good at it.” You reply softly watching Paul crash out as Embry buys another shop on ‘his block’.

“Him and I play every once in a while, I’m starting to get closer to beating him everytime we do.” Emily admits laughing softly to herself. “Sam says it’s just because he’s getting rusty, but I think it’s cause he’s trying to let me win a little bit more each time.”

———

“GOD DAMN IT!” Leah growls, as she lands in jail for the 12th time. She started out in the lead but quickly lost it to Sam. You can see the steam coming off her body. “I HATE THIS FUCKING GAME!” Leah shout beofre flipping the bored and storming out.

“I told you she’d do it, pay up Jared.” Embry brags as Jared sighs sadly handing the slender boy a 20.

“Well if she didn’t I would’ve.” Paul hisses.

———

Leah comes back to gab Seth to go home. But she stops over by you and hugs you again. “We’re hear if you ever need to talk, or just want to hang out.” She tells you before letting you go.

“Thank you, both of you. I hope you know that the two of you can always reach out to me if you ever need anything, and I promise, I will be there.” You tell, her looking her in the eyes. And looking Seth in the eyes too. “We know, it’s kind of your thing.” Leah’s eyes shine with warmth. And Seth hugs you tightly before leaving with Leah.

“Careful.” Jacob comes up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist, and putting his head on you left shoulder. “I think Leah might steal you from me if you keep talking to her like that.” Jacob says teasingly before pressing his lips to the edge of your jaw, right below your ear.

“We couldn’t have that now could we.” You say playfully before turning around and hugging him. “Thank you.” You whisper as you burrow yourself into Jacob’s warm embrace. “No need to thank me. Like I told you.” Jacob’s voice is soft and smooth. “Whatever you need, it’s yours.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You attempt to sound playful, but you’re tired and really just want to be with Jacob. Alone, so you can just rest beside him. “All I want right now is you.” You admit shyly.

“I’m all yours.” It’s all he says, before you and him say your goodbyes.

Paul reminds you that if you ever need him, he’ll be there ready to kick some ass.

Embry tells you that you’ll never have to be alone again if him and the pack have anything to say about it.

Quill says that he’ll make sure you never have to spend another year alone.

Emily makes sure you know that you’re always welcome at her house, even if it’s the middle of the night.

Jared awkwardly says that he may pick on you, but you’re like the an annoying little sibling her never knew he needed.

And lastly, Sam tells you that as far as he’s concerned, you’re part of his pack.

By the time your back in Jacob’s truck, you feel like crying all over again. “Hey.” Jacob says before taking a hold of your hand. “You’ve always been there for me, you saw me at my lowest…my most weak.” Jacob looks you in the eyes as he talks, and you can tell he’s trying not to cry. “And you still chose to love me, I’ll never forget that. I’ve loved you for years, and now that you and I are here. I’m never, ever going to let you be alone again. Your stuck with me, for a lifetime. And whatever comes next.” You smile and try your hardest not to cry.

“Never doubt how much I love you, I said I would show you the deep well of my devotion. And I meant it, you’re going to spend the night at my house. Charlie and my dad will be there, I’ve got everything you need for the night-“Jacob.” You say softly interrupting his rambling.

“I’m more then down. Now onwards lover boy, you owe me some cuddles.” Jacob chuckles and shakes his head. “I love you too, more than anything.” You say simply, too tired for a speech. But the simplicity of that statement doesn’t take away how much it means to Jacob. He looks at you, smilingly warmly and it’s like you matter more than anything else in the entire world.

———

“Hey there kiddo!” Charlie says cheerfully once he lays eyes on you. He gets up form his spot on the porch so he can give you, what can only described as, a good old fashioned dad hug. “I haven’t seen you in months. Tried calling you…well I guess yesterday now, but found out you weren’t home. How are you holding up?” If you couldn’t tell Charlie is definitely a little tipsy. He’s got that hint of beer to his usual smell. Billy and him have been sitting outside catching up and drinking a bit.

“I’m doing better.” You say honestly. “It’s good to see you Charlie, how have you been holding up?” You definitely know Charlie isn’t happy about Bella getting married. Charlie lets you go before speaking, putting his hands on his hips, his typical dad pose.

“Oh me? Well, I’m doing alright…just that my daughter is getting married at 18 to a boy she’s known for only two years.” Yikes. Charlie stares off for a couple of seconds, shaking his head as he still struggling to come terms with it all. “Well…if you ever need anything just give me a call. I know I’ve been busy, but you still like my own kid to me.” Charlie pats your shoulder awkwardly, in his Swanly way of trying to change the subject and offer you some comfort. “Thanks Charlie.” You say trying not to laugh at his awkwardness. “I really appreciate that.”

“Don’t mention it kido.” Charlie says smiling at you. “Well I guess I’ve kept you from Jacob long enough.” Charlie says before shaking Jacob’s hand. “If you hurt them I’ll hunt you down.” Charlie says seriously, staring Jacob down before patting him on the shoulder. “Don’t have too much fun you two.” Charlie says changing his tone to a more playful one before sitting back down on the porch next to Billy.

“Yeah, we’ll be watching.” Billy teases, glaring playfully before turning to Charlie and talking about fishing trips.

You look to Jacob who looks only a little scared of Charlie, and with a grin on your face you gab his hand and drag him inside the house.

———

Once your in the house, you and Jacob head to his room. Jacob gives you the same pair of pajamas pants and long sleeved shirt that you wore the first night you spent by his bedside. Except now they smell like him, and have been washed. “Did I leave these here?” You ask confused how he got them.

“Kind of…my dad snagged them to throw them in the laundry. But they weren’t done before you left.” Jacob says sheepishly. “I decided to keep them here, incase you ever had to stay the night again.” Jacob looks slightly embarrassed as he scratches the back of his neck.

“We also have an extra toothbrush here for you too.” You grin at this, he and his dad planned this all out just so you could spend the night here again. “You’re such a dork.” You tease playful, and Jacob straightens up and glares at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You’re one to talk, besides, you love it.” Jacob says before attacking you with kisses and ticking your sides. You squirm trying to escape his grasp, laughing so hard your stomach starts to hurt.

“RELEASE ME!” You mange to screech out between fits of laughter. “Okay, okay fine.” Jacob says, laughing himself. There’s a carefree grin on his face, and joy fills his eyes beofre he kisses your forehead.

“Now go get ready for bed before I change my mind.” Jacob teases and boops your nose, which scrunches up at the odd action. But you don’t say anything before darting out of the room.

Jacob stands there for a while, grinning to himself like an idiot alone in his room. He’s been so much happier and free these days, thanks to you. It’s like he’s that long haired teenage boy again, with no troubles or worries except for homework. Jacob likes who he is when he’s with you.

———

You and Jacob fall into a little routine the both of you discovered from when you stayed at his house the last time. It’s smooth and terribly domesticated, like you and him have been living together for years. On occasions where you happen to squeeze past him, he’ll poke your side or steal a quick peck to your cheek.

If you think this is too cheesy I’m sorry, I’m a sucker for cheesy romantic stuff

When you’re both ready for bed he insists that you sleep in his bed, and if there’s not enough room for the both of you he’ll take the couch. Due to size differences, you’re both able to make it work. The plus side is, both the bed and Jacob are extremely comfortable. Get that head out of the gutter, it’s not yet time for that

You both end up falling asleep, Jacob on his back with you laying half on-top of him and half on the bed. He has an arm wrapped around your waist and the other holding your hand as it rest on his abdomen. It’s one of the best rests you have had in a while. Both because of the exhaustion of the day setting in, and due to the comfort Jacob brings you.

———

Billy wasn’t worried about the two of you doing anything crazy, he knew Jacob would keep his hands to himself. With Charlie also being at the house the two older men had nothing to worry about….for now😈

———

You’re suprised to find out that you’ve woken up before Jacob. He’s snoring softly, as you lay there for a while looking up at him admiring his features. He looks so peaceful, you’ll never get over how truly beautiful Jacob is. Before you start to feel like a creep for watching Quileute boy as he sleeps, you notice his hair is shaggier as if he’s growing it back out.

You take your time as you slowly and carefully detangle yourself from Jacob. By the time you have finally finished and as sitting in the edge of the bed, you realize it probably took you about 20 minutes. You sit there a bit, letting yourself fully wake up. Just as your about to get off the bed, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you and pull you back down an onto the bed.

You laugh softly as Jacob mumbles grumpily and incoherently. All you catch is that he’s dead set on not letting you escape him. Smiling to yourself you turn around in his arms. Now facing him you manage to move a bit so that his face can borrow its self against your neck, slightly above your collarbone.

Neither of you say anything, you sit in silence with your hand running through his hair, and only the sound of each others breaths filling the air. Sometimes, real love is quiet and steady.

———

Both you and Jacob feel the heartbreak of how much energy you have both spent contorting, performing, earning, and chasing after scraps of love and approval.

Jacob was angry for so long, he didn’t understand why he was never enough for Bella Swan. Even when he begged her, she never chose him, never stayed. He was angry at the world, at what he’s become. You have spent so much of your life just wanting to be seen, heard, loved by your mother and others. Spending so much of your life being loved for your performance and capabilities, never being truly seen.

But here, together, in this silent, comforting room. Neither of you feel the need for any of that, and it doesn’t need to be spoken. You both can feel it, intertwined, sewn together, like a rock that bears the weather. Bound to one another, in every lifetime.

There is something so deeply freeing in being seen and known by someone you love so deeply.

———

It’s nice, just being around one another. No one else, no pack, no big group of friends or family. Just you and him. So Jacob decided that he’d start making time for just the two of you to be together.

———

“Are you sure about this.” You ask nervously, cliff diving looks fun. But when you’re standing at the edge getting ready to jump, staring down at the crashing waves…you’re not so sure about this idea.

“Don’t worry, I’ve gotcha.” Jacob says smiling brightly. “This was your request after all.”

“I know, it’s just…a little intimidating when you’re actually about to do it.” You say, not even looking at him as you stare down at the water in horror.

“Hey.” Jacob says softly before cupping your face in his hands. “Look at me.” He’s voice is calming and sweet, it convinces you to meet his gaze. “Everyone is a bit scared the first time, you’ll be okay. I’ll save you if you start to drown.” He teases gently and you glare at him. “Great, now I’m worried about that too.”

“I’ve got you, pinky promise.” You roll your eyes as he offers up his pinky to seal the deal. “Okay, but if I die I’m haunting your ass for life.” Jacob laughs softly at that. “You won’t die, not on my watch.”

———

“Okay…you can do this-” Jacob doesn’t get to finish. Because within a sudden burst of confidence, you jump off the cliff taking Jacob down with you. You can faintly hear him freaking out from shock, before you hit the water.

You can feel the laughter bubbling up from within you, but you try your hardest to hold it back as you swim up to breach the surface. You break through the water just in the nick of time, laughing and coughing breathlessly.

“Oh yeahhhh, real funny.” You hear Jacob say sarcasticly. “Oh I thought it was hilarious, especially when you screamed like a little girl.” You tease before laughing again, you begin to struggle with holding yourself above the surface. To the point where Jacob has to help you swim to shore through fits of laughter.

When you finally get to shore, you lay there for a couple minutes, giggling like a madman as you struggle to catch your breath. You can hear Jacob laughing with you after a while, like your joy brings him joy as well.

———

You both eventually make it back to the cliff side where Jacob’s truck is waiting. You’re wiped out, between the adrenaline wearing off and how much you’ve been laughing. Jacob seems unfazed by such things, though he looks happy and content in this moment.

“We should do this again sometime.” You say smiling tiredly at Jacob as the two of you sit in the bed of his truck. You’re both drying off with the towels he brought, Jacob is pretty much completely dry thanks to his overheated body. You’re still pretty damp.

“You say that now,” Jacob begins as he looks you in the eye with playfulness filling his. “But I seem to remember you losing your shit earlier.”

You grin at him bashfully. “Well you did scream like a little girl when we finally jumped-“Only because you threw yourself off the cliff taking me down with you!” Jacob defends himself and you laugh out at him. “Uh huh sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.” You tease and yelp as Jacob pulls you into his lap, tickling you.

“Nonono! STOP STOP I YIELD I YIELD!” You screech out, and Jacob decides to show you some mercy. “Not so tuff now? Aren’t you?” Jacob says all smug and teasingly, smilingly big and bright.

You do the only thing you can do when Jacob Black is smiling at you, all teeth and crinkling eyes. You kiss him, as deeply and lovingly as you possibly can. And Jacob melts into the kiss, pulling you close as soon as you readjust yourself to straddle his hips.

You can’t help but smile into the kiss, there he was, all smug and prideful. Now look at him, he’s kisses you like your the very air he breathes and pulling you as close as physically possible by your hips.

Your hands are in his hair once again, it’s just too irresistible, knowing that it’s one of his weaknesses. You’ll exploit is over and over again, just to hear the breathless sighs and soft whines you can pull from his lips.

Jacob’s eyes are screwed shut as he kisses you, desperate for whatever you’re willing to give him. But he’s not pushing for anything more than heated kisses. Your body swells with pride as you give your hips an experimental roll against Jacob’s, and earn yourself a soft moan from him. It’s muffled against your lips, but you use the opportunity of his open mouth to sneak your tongue into the kiss.

You can feel Jacob’s shaky hands move to rub your thighs up and down as you continue to roll your hips. Your heart is racing at every sound Jacob makes, you nibble on his bottom lip and immediately Jacob opens his mouth to invite you in once more. The taste of him is intoxicating, you grip his hair at the nape of his neck and Jacob groans out at the feeling.

There’s not an ounce of the fatigue that once flowed through your body, as you pull back from the kiss just enough to look at Jacob’s face. He chase after you as he lets out a soft whine at the loss of your lips, before he’s breathing hard into your open mouth. And his eyes open half lidded filled with not lust, but love and admiration. “Too much?” He asks breathlessly, and his voice is deeper and husky. “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.” You whisper out as you stroke his cheeck bone. And Jacob grins, cheeks flushed and breath heavy.

Everytime you think you have discovered your favorite smile on Jacob’s face, he graces you with another that takes your breath away. “I love you.” You whisper out, and Jacob melts even more at those words. “I love you too..” Jacob trails off, his voice soft and gentle. “So much, more then I ever thought possible.” And he kisses you once more.

———

I hope you enjoyed this part. I decided to take my time with it. If y’all want I can continue the ending a bit in the beginning of part 9. Man I can’t BELIVE I’ve written 9 already.

I sincerely hope you enjoyed reading this. I’m trying to be careful about not over sexualizing both the reader and Jacob. And I hope the ending didn’t go too far.

I’m having a lot of fun giving sweet Jacob the attention he deserves. Because he is one of my top favorite characters. The books really did him dirty.

Im also sorry for any misspellings or bad grammar, I cannot spell to save my life. Thanks for putting up with my bad writing.

As always, feel free to request whatever you’d like to see in future parts.

There will be a part just labeled smut, so you can skip if without missing plot. It will be a bit later on in the story, after Bella changes into a Vampire also Jacob and Reader will be aged up to 18 as they are going into thier senior year of high school

Love ya🫶

Thanks again for reading

Part 10

[azullumi]

“affection weaves into the letters on your screen” ; aventurine and ratio

premise — messages and calls between you and him.

content tags — w/ gender-neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, texts and messages, not proofread, 0.8k ; headcanons

note — i needed something easy and nice because everything has been too stressful

If there’s one constant thing about AVENTURINE is that he is an avid fan of messaging, texting, or whatever the proper term for that is. No matter where he is and what he’s doing, he’ll always find the time to type in a message for you and press send—it could be about anything, from the random thing he’ll see while he’s walking which he thinks you’ll be interested in to how his day is going and possibly, ranting about it. The only time he’ll be inactive is when he’s in the middle of something, like completely and utterly busy that he couldn’t pick up his phone to check up on you or update you on what he’s doing.

Would use the most out of everything; calls, voice messages, attachments, everything. He’ll use stickers whenever he can and would use those silly emoticons because why not? He’s very expressive overall; it’s like you can hear his voice, see his expression, and the gestures he’ll do over the screen. 

PHOTOS !! There are new ones added to the shared gallery of your conversations with him every single day. He sees something cool? He takes a photo. He’s currently having a meal? No questions asked, he’ll take a photo. The critters are in this silly position? The camera is pointed at them already and the image of them in a circle while seemingly discussing something is sent. He’ll send selfies of himself throughout the day and he’s the type to pose with random things; there was a time he sent you a photo of himself holding a potted plant (he said it was an addition to his office and he thought you should know). It’s ridiculous, you may say, but he can’t contain the smile on his face when you send a photo back.

Occasionally, it’s videos that he sends.

It’s the late night calls and messages. Aventurine has sleeping problems, struggling to fall or stay asleep no matter how much he physically exhausts himself, so when worse comes to worst and it’s already midnight yet there’s no ounce of anything that makes his eyes heavy, he’ll message you—asking if you’re still awake and if you’re doing anything. It’s your voice that guides him to his dreams, gentle and delicate as a lullaby; by then, you’ll receive no response from him as you call for his name and you’ll have to whisper to him goodnight as he sleeps.

BONUS : on the topic of calls, he likes spending time with you in silence as you do your own thing while he also does his own. Your presence is enough to comfort him and keep him grounded.

VERITAS RATIO is not much of a texter and if he does send you a message, it’s mostly about engineering designs for a machine, requesting that you give him a set of questions if he needs something to simulate his weary brain, sending you links to a sign-up form for a debate that is occuring, or proposals for a certain project as he asks for your input. There are times you’ll find yourself debating with him—all just casual and he won’t throw a chalk at you. However, the line of your conversation between you and him is short and is separated by intervals; he just prefers talking in person or over calls. 

He’s probably the fastest typer you know but he rarely ever makes typos, like ever. He types strictly and formally with proper capitalization and punctuations with the mixture of the words that would require you to bring out a dictionary to understand, always starting his sentence with an uppercase and ending it with a period. It feels like you’re having a corporate or business meeting whenever you’re talking to him due to how formal he is over text (you can probably hear his voice whenever you read his messages too).

“DRYEST TEXTER IN THE UNIVERSE EVER” some would say and maybe you too, however, there are traces of sweetness and affection in your (short) conversations with him. He’s the one to greet you first in the morning, so expect that the moment the sun has risen, there’s a message notification from him displayed on the screen on your phone—the time you’ll rise from your bed, your sleeping and wake-up patterns are embedded in his mind and he ensures that you always wake up with a good morning. 

In note with that, sometimes, you’ll find yourself wondering if he even thinks of you, if you occasionally appear inside his mind and distract him from his work—doubt begins to muddle your thoughts. However, you must remember that he’ll always send you reminders throughout the day, telling you of the agenda you have planned for the afternoon which you told him once or twice the day before, reminding you to finish this task you’ve been procrastinating on, or just simply telling you to take a break or to eat something (especially when he knows that you don’t take care of yourself).

Be kind to yourself, will you? He looks out for you and cares for you a lot even if you may think otherwise.

EXTRA : doesn’t call and is not exactly a fan of it, however, if his phone were to ring and he sees it’s you calling for him, he wouldn’t hesitate to answer it.

tagging the one and only amazing and lovely @toorurs 🗣️ first of all, i’m sorry that i haven’t replied to your tiktoks when i told you i will (plsdonthateme) and second, i actually dont have a second thing to say. anywaysss!! i think we’ve both been busy these days or maybe it’s just me (sorry finals are approaching) but do know that no matter what happens i still treasure and love you as a friend ‼️ i saw this one plant in our trip yesterday and i remembered you i dont know why i think it’s because it was pretty and the color reminded me of you 🫶🏼 but yeah, keep on doing amazing things and amazing works (DONT DIE FELI THE WORLD WILL LOSE AN ANGEL) !! you’ve become one of my most favorite people ever and remember that i will always be here for youu mwa

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[seungfl0wer]

Can you do 34 from the 60 more writing prompts with Seungmin or leeknow, can it be angst with a fluffy ending 🥹

*Pay Attention!*

Pairing: Minho x Reader (GN)

Genre: Angst/Semi Fluff Ending

Warnings: Cursing, Arguing/Yelling, Reader gets hurt (burnt), Mentions of Blood, Mentions of wanting to die, not proof read

The time someone asks for a happy ending I leave it kinda not- I mean it’s happier than I was gonna leave it not gonna lie😂. I hope you enjoy it though. Yall really coming at me with these angst scenarios lol

-🩵

Your fiancé had just came home throwing his coat over the couch coming to meet you as you were cooking dinner in the kitchen. He seemed a bit off today probably annoyed from work as he told you about the boss being a dick lately. You were listening to music as you cooked swaying your hip as you cut up some veggies.

Minho gave you a peck on the cheek before sitting down at the table looking over some paperwork he had to do along bills that were on the table. His whole demeanor almost shifted looking over the papers he looked angry. Looked like tears wanted to peak from his eyes fists bunched at the side of the papers. You tried to ignore it wanting to keep your peace for a bit more.

A few minutes had passed before he started talking asking you questions his tone was a bit harsh as he asked “what did we get that was this price?” “Why’s the phone bill high this month” he has a good job and nice money and you worked some hours at a bakery. Money wasn’t an issue really ever. Bills were always paid on time. What was his problem?

You were in your thoughts as you moved the hot pot you had to the other to combine everything. “Y/n!” he said loudly startling you, making you drop the pot. Your hands were too fast for you to think grabbing the hot pan wincing at the pain before letting it drop. You moved quickly accidentally knocking over the other pot with everything in it. You had no time to react everything was just happening so fast. Minho looked at you “y/n can’t you pay attention for 5 fucking seconds?” He hissed at you not realizing you had just burnt yourself.

You looked at him feeling tears pull at your eyes, your vision becoming slightly blurry. You ran your hands under cold water to help the burn as the man behind you rambled on “such a fucking waste” he said grabbing the pan that had fallen. “Why can’t you just pay attention to shit?” He hissed again. The words stung, stung more than the burning of your hands. The tears started to fall a bit turning your head to him “you know what fuck you!” You tried screaming but it came out as a croak.

His eyes squinting at you “why are you even fucking crying? It’s not like you worked all day to come home and have your fiancé dump dinner on the floor because they can’t pay attention!” His words felt like daggers in just stabbing you in the back. You turned your body towards him hands shaking “I guess the food and I have something in common we are just Both a waste aren’t we.” You said whipping your eyes. You walk toward the door grabbing your keys. “Where the hell are you going?” Minho asked following behind you.

“Somewhere I’m not gonna be a bother! Don’t worry about me Minho, order some fucking food and enjoy being alone.” You said before leaving out the door slamming it behind you. You walked to your car hands still hurt you didn’t notice that when the other pan had fallen it had hit the back of your leg. Cutting it as the sharp part of the old janky pan hit it. Your sock was turning red great just great, man hands are burnt and now I’ll probably need stitches. You say smack the steering wheel. You started to just cry you cried hard at the words of your fiancé, you knew he’s been stressed but god he was being an asshole.

You drove yourself to the hospital getting stitched up, the nurse wrapping your hands that were now blistering. You drove back home after a few hours just sitting in your car really not wanting to go back up. You sat there for a good half hour just debating what you wanted to do before you ended up falling asleep. Minho saw your car pull in but was giving you space after what happened he got concerned when it turned about 2 hours of you not coming up.

He walked down to your car to see you fast asleep. He opened the door shaking his head before waking you up “leaving the doors unlocked? You want someone to kill you or something?” He said moving to the side to open your door “maybe it would solve your problem.” You said softly getting out not looking at him. He was about to talk before realizing your hands “are you ok?” He said looking at your hands. You don’t even say anything as you walked up to your house the man following slowly behind you.

You look in at the crime scene realizing Minho had cleaned it, he had also remade dinner “If you’re hungry there’s food.” He said softly you nod plopping yourself on the couch rolling your body to have your face against the back. Curling up into a ball trying not to cry again, you felt Minhos hand hesitantly rub your back. “Y/n I’m sorry.. I didn’t..” his words stuck in his throat. “God I’m sorry.” His voice cracking feeling his body shaking “you got hurt and I fucking yelled at you I don’t even know why you came back i don’t know why you haven’t kicked me out.”

Minho babbled out through tears “I wouldn’t even blame you if you didn’t want to marry me anymore.” You turned to look at him tear stained cheeks his lip quivering staring down at the ground. “Love” you said softly placing your wrapped hand on his. “Y/n please don’t try and make me feel better I hurt you I deserve to be feeling like this.” He spit “I deserve for you to hate me to never want to be around me.” He said another wave of tears falling “fuck I-“ his words not coming out. You get your body up and hold onto him.

You were still hurt but seeing him hurt made it even worse “Listen what you said was assholey however I’m not just gonna walk away from us.” You said trying to get him to look at you “I know you said it out of angry but it still hurt so we’ll just have to talk. Maybe give each other space but I’m not leaving you. When you proposed you signed away any life without me.” You teased his eyes meeting yours “you sleep in the bed tonight ok? I’ll sleep on the couch.” He said biting his lip that was still wiggling.

“I might be upset still but I don’t wanna sleep along.. unless you don’t wanna-“ you said before he cut you off “you know I love sleeping with you it’s always the easiest to sleep.” You could see him calming down by his words. You kissed his cheek getting up “alright well let’s eat and maybe talk if you want and we can go to bed.” You suggested him nodding in response.

He’d give anything to rewind everything that had happened however but it happened and he knew he’d have to show you he didn’t mean what he said. He didn’t mean for you to get hurt the way you did. He’ll spend forever feeling bad about it but also forever making it up to you showing he loves you. And even if it hurt you, you didn’t wanna throw away all the love over one argument. Love is about working through problems like these. And you loved this man no matter how dumb he was being.

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something🩵

[captainpriceslilwife]

nnnggghhhhhuuhhhhh tbi!Soap who gets a little weird after his injury. (CW: yall this is like DARK...idk where this came from, so uh, dark themes, gore description at the end, soap is a freak, he's literally obsessed with you, stalker vibes but he lives with you, dark smut made its way in there so 18+, soap is literally batshit crazy and he wants you to be like him) dead dove do not eat, probably

maybe you're his sweet girlfriend who he's been dating for almost a year already, but when he comes back from that life-changing mission, he fully expects you to break up with him. He's too different now - too high maintenance. He needs meds and physical therapy and counseling...not to mention he'd never be a soldier again. Plus, doctors said he'd never be the same.

But you love your Johnny so much. How could you not help him when he needs you the most?

So you're there at his side, every single day, to try to get a smile back on his face. Always at every one of his PT appointments - cheering and giving him a little applause for each milestone he reaches ('good job, baby!' 'see? I told you you'd heal quick since you're so strong! isn't he so strong, doc?'). You refill his pill box every week without fail, and you always add a little candy to each compartment to reward him for taking his meds. Sometimes he finds a little note on there with a heart or a smiley face on the days when you aren't home to remind him to take his medication - but it's always gone by the time you get back. You figure he's just throwing them away, and it stings a little, but you don't think twice about it.

You don't seem to think twice about your dwindling underwear drawer, either.

You cook for him. Clean for him. Help him walk around when he's having a particularly rough day. And he falls more in love with you every day because of it.

But there's something....off....about his new layer of admiration for you.

You brush it off as the 'personality changes' the doctors had warned you about. Of course had can't possibly be normal after what happened to him. I mean, who would be?

But sometimes he scares you when you blink your eyes open in the morning, only to see him already staring at you as if he had never slept to begin with. Or when you get up to pee in the middle of the night and he insists on standing silently in the doorway, refusing to go back to bed until you're done and can lie back down with him.

He always needs you in his line of sight. Always needs to be near you.

Even when you cook dinner and try to encourage him to rest on the couch, he just sits on the floor of the kitchen and disassembles and reassembles his gun - something the doctors encouraged you to let him do. 'It'll be good for him, to do things he used to do. Might help him get back to normal.'

It doesn't make it any less unnerving when he feels the need to stare at you while he does it.

As time goes on, he eventually finds himself drawing again - much to your relief. He's switched out the silver metal and bullets for his old charcoal and paper, and you finally find yourself breathing easier as you step over his legs to stir the pot on the stove.

You try not to notice that he only draws you.

You in bed, you in the shower, you cooking, you cleaning, you naked, you napping, you changing - just you.

If he's having a hard day - one where his scarred skin is throbbing and he struggles even to remember what had happened that morning - he'll just draw parts of you. Your hands holding his pills, your hair in a ponytail, your nose, your eyes-

Whatever he can remember.

Sometimes you try to encourage him to draw other things - showing him pictures of the trips you guys used to take together to get his memory flowing, but it always puts him in a mood. And you try your hardest to keep him happy, so you always drop the subject.

Unfortunately, the only way to get him out of those moods is to let him fuck you.

And you still love him, of course - still love to be wrapped up in his arms as he works himself inside of you.

But lately he's just more...rough.

He'd never hurt you. Not in a million years. Not even a bullet could take away his love for you.

But his hips slam hard and fast against you as he ruts inside of you, pushing you up the bed as you desperately try to hold onto him to ground yourself. And he always makes sure you're staring into his eyes when he cums, otherwise he'll keep you locked in his arms until he's ready to go again. It's a ritual for him - like he'll die if he doesn't get to have you like this.

And he's always been a munch, everyone knows it. But now? He tells you he can't sleep unless he eats you out before bed. And you just want him to be happy and healthy, right? So, you let him.

Except he doesn't stop unless he feels like it, or until your pushing his head away, crying and begging for a break. He eats like a man starved, not coming up to breath until he sees silver spots coloring the edges of his vision - and even then he'll just dive right back in. He's messy with it, too - slobbering like a dog and ruining the sheets as he creeps his tongue as far back as he can get before your squealing out a "Johnny, don't, that's gross!"

He's weird. And offputting. And sometimes he makes you nearly jump out of your skin.

But he's your Johnny. You love him to death. And he could never actually scare you.

Not until you end up deep cleaning your shared bedroom - finally convincing him to shower on his own so you can finally have a moment to yourself.

You're blindly sweeping underneath the bed when you hit something hard - and your brows furrow in confusion when you lean down to see an unfamiliar wooden box hidden beneath his side of the bed.

You cast a glance over your shoulder to make sure he's still occupied in the shower before you slide it out quietly. There's not a speck of dust on it, unlike everything else that's made its way beneath the bed, so clearly it was something he used. Something he cherished.

You push it open with a soft click, silently thanking whatever god was listening that he hadn't bothered to lock it shut with the padlock that dangled from the latch opening. But your gratitude was quickly swallowed up by something much darker when your eyes fell down to see what was in the box.

Your missing underwear is bunched in the corner, coated in his own spend that he had made sure to specifically aim at your already dirtied gussets. It strikes you with the realization of just how many times you've caught him digging in your laundry basket, claiming he's looking for something - or how many times you could've sworn he was smelling you when he stood too close.

When you finally manage to get over the initial shock of seeing such an obscene display of his obsession towards you, you're gaze trails down to the pile of papers tucked beneath your soiled panties. At first, they seem just like all the other drawings he's made of you, and you can't figure out why they're tucked away. But when you look a little harder, you see the small keloid that sneaks its way into every drawing - a scar on your temple to match the one that adorns him.

You flip through the drawings quickly, your movements growing more frantic as you realize each one of them features the same disfigurement in varying levels of detail. Some of them are just a dash of his charcoal against the paper, and some of them are so detailed that you could swear he had taken a picture of his own just to copy it onto the page.

By the time you get to the last drawing, tears are slipping down your cheeks and falling in fat drops into your lap. You choke out a silent sob when you see what artwork he felt the need to bury so deeply, and you aren't even sure what you could possibly be feeling as you pull out the paper with trembling hands.

It's the only picture that isn't just of you.

He drew himself too.

He's got your head in his lap as he brushes his fingers through your hair, and he drew himself leaned over like he was whispering something in your ear.

It would be a sweet drawing if it wasn't for the gun he was holding - the same gun he took apart and built again in the kitchen while you took care of him - or the fact that he drew you with a hole in your temple. He had drawn the blood that poured from your wound - drew it on his hands and on his lap, down onto the floor as the penciled version of you looked up at him with nothing but love and understanding.

You felt like you couldn't breathe.

Bile was rising quickly in your throat as you forced the drawings back into the box - crinkling the papers and shifting the other stuff around as you tried to hold back your sobs.

A glint of metal rolling around the wooden floor of the box catches your attention - especially when it disappears beneath his horde of obsession and clinks gently against something else.

You're entire body is trembling at this point, and your mind is screaming at you to get out. To leave him and go as far as you can.

But your hand seems to move on its own as you reach down into dark corners of the box, feeling around for the tiny object that was pulling at a curiosity that you should've just buried along with your love for Johnny.

Once you make it past the underwear, past the drawings, past the notes that you had left him that you thought he had thrown away - your fingers wrap around a tiny glass jar and something much smaller. Something cold and metallic.

You can barely bring yourself to look as you pull it out slowly, but the second your eyes land on it, you can't hold back the panicked sobs that escape your lips.

In the jar is the bullet they had removed from Johnny's brain during surgery - a trophy, the doctors had called it. It was marred and crumpled, but it still clinked around lightly as you stared down at it.

This tiny little thing is what took away your Johnny. Your Johnny. The sweet man who always had a smile on his face and more love to give than he knew what to do with.

This is the tiny little thing that led him to carve your name into the bullet that lies in your other hand - meticulously written and finished with a tiny heart at the bottom.

A matching set.

"Oh, fuck...oh my fucking god." You whisper under your breath as you choke out another sob, completely frozen in horror. "Jesus fucking-"

It isn't until you feel cool drops of water dripping down your back that you realize the shower has stopped.

You can't bring yourself to look up at him - as though you're willful ignorance of his presence will somehow make him disappear. But your trembling sobs give away just how scared you are as you try to curl away from him.

A frightened yelp tears from your throat as he sinks down onto the floor, wrapping his bare, dripping form around you and holding you tight to keep you locked in his embrace.

"Ah'd never hurt ye, hen. Ye know that, right? Ah'm only thinking about it." You can barely hear him over the pounding in your ears as you continue to sob loudly, but you can feel the way one of his hands travels up to run through your hair in what you can only assume is meant to be a soothing gesture. But you aren't sure how soothing it is when his thumb brushes over your temple, right where he always drew your scar. "Ah just...ah wish ye knew how it felt. Just so we can be closer."

"...Ah just want to be close to ye..."

[zablife]

I'll Never Learn

Benny Cross x gf reader

Benny Cross Masterlist

Summary: Benny's always taking off without warning so Kathy advises you to break up with him and move on with your life. When he returns from his latest trip, you have a decision to make.

Warnings: physical argument (Benny would never hurt you, don't worry), angst with a fluffy ending

The evening shadows were creeping over the houses along your quiet street, reminding you another day had passed without a word from Benny. You stubbed out your cigarette before turning to face another dinner for one in front of the television. By now the familiarity of the routine had almost numbed you to the aching loneliness, but not quite.

Just when you thought you'd forgotten him, there were always little reminders of Benny somewhere, like the back of the kitchen drawer when you searched for a spatula this morning. You'd sobbed over a matchbox from the bar where you'd met Benny, fingertips lingering over the raised print as Kathy passed you the mixing bowl along with some well-meaning advice.

"I hate to say it, honey, but he's not worth it. I mean, he's out there doin' God knows what. Should be here with you once in awhile, right? With all you do for him," she shook her head, indicating toward the pots and pans.

"Find a man who's gonna treat ya right. It's the least ya deserve after puttin' up with this nonsense for a year," she said, patting your hand sympathetically.

You allowed the memory to float away with the lingering smoke, fingers closing around the edge of the front door when you heard it. The unmistakable rumble of an engine rattling the glass in the windows and the fragile heart you were trying so desperately to heal. Taking a deep breath to quell the ache in your chest, you found a flame of rage catching fire instead of the passion that you used to feel upon his return.

Whipping around to face your boyfriend, you found him at the steps, staring up at you with a sheepish grin.

"I'm home, baby," he announced softly, waiting for you to fall into his arms. Those faded baby blues trained on you in hopes of forgiveness you'd given so many times before, but this time you couldn't, the words Kathy had said hours earlier ringing in your ears.

"Benny, don't," you warned him, holding up your hand to stop him from giving whatever bullshit excuse was going to tumble from his lips next. Leaving him standing on the porch with a look of confusion creasing his brow, you stormed inside to gather your things.

His hesitation only lasted a moment before taking the stairs two at a time to run after you into the house. As his foot collided with your suitcase, his voice swelled with urgency, your name echoing off the walls. Bewildered at the sight, he uttered, "You're leavin'?"

"I can't do this anymore Benny," you informed him, hands crossed over your chest as you stared blankly at the floor.

"Do what?" he asked mindlessly, only catching on when your gaze shifted to the door. "You're mad cause I took a ride?" he asked incredulously. "Johnny asked me to--" he began defensively, but you weren't in the mood.

"While I'm here?" you shouted, the frustration building inside you as he stepped closer.

"Where else would you be, darlin'?" he asked with a nervous laugh, never having seen you like this before. He was on edge, unsure how to take this sudden turn in your behavior.

Blood now boiling after his flippant response, you looked up at him with fire in your eyes.

"I'm always here waiting for you to come back" you fumed, throwing up your hands as you added "....or not." Tears pricked the corners of your eyes, but you willed them not to fall as you explained, "I need somethin' more. I want you home from now on."

There it was, the ultimatum you'd been afraid to give before. After all, you weren't married, but if he wanted you in his life, this was how it would have to be.

Benny stood so still, you could scarcely tell if he was breathing. He blinked back at you slowly, nostrils flaring as he growled, "You can't tell a man somethin' like that. Look at Betty. She don't tell Johnny what to do!"

"Well I'm not Betty!" you retorted.

"You sure ain't," he seemed to agree, breathing out a heavy sigh as he turned away.

"You're an asshole," you seethed, pacing to the kitchen. "Kathy was right, you don't appreciate me and you never have."

Catching sight of the chocolate cake you decorated with little cherries on top, something inside you snapped.

"You don't care about anything!" Without another word, you reached for the cake plate at your elbow and threw it against the wall. Flinching as it shattered, Benny's hands grasped your shoulders to keep your arm from reaching the stack of plates next to it.

As you struggled, you fell to your knees, dangerously close to the broken shards that glistened under the fluorescent lighting. Benny pulled you up as you hissed out a warning.

"Get off me," you spat through clenched teeth, a look of fury in your eyes, but his muscular arms had already encircled you. Thrashing against him, you bucked and kicked at him, but he was too strong for you.

"Stop fightin' me," he barked, backing you away from the shattered glass to the adjacent wall. You couldn't hear anything except the sound of rushing blood in your ears and your own labored breathing as he pinned you against the peeling wallpaper. His right knee wedged between your legs and his hip dug into yours as he brought your arms above your head to immobilize you.

Your heart slammed against your ribcage, close enough for the reverberations to carry through to Benny. It was then he truly saw the pain beneath your eyes as hot, heavy tears collected along your lash line.

"Baby...baby, please, don't," he pleaded, face pinched in anguish. For a moment you thought a tear might trickle down his cheek as well.

"Is this wh-what we are now?" you asked with quivering lip. "Two people who can't even talk to each other without a fight?"

He drew in a deep breath to steady himself, head shaking softly before he could find the words to reassure you. Then his voice rumbled up from his chest in the soothing way you knew and loved.

"We're not like that and we never will be," he promised, eyes piercing into your soul with such earnestness, you ceased all movement under him.

Relinquishing the tight grasp he held on your wrists, he rocked back, allowing you to drop your hands to your sides as he cast his eyes downward.

"Kathy was right, you know, I don't deserve you," he said, voice dripping with guilt. He reached out slowly for your left hand, sliding his fingers between yours as he admitted, "You're too precious for a man like me."

"Oh, Benny," you sighed, chin tilted toward the ceiling tiles. He could be charming when he wanted to be and that had always been your downfall.

"But Kathy don't know anything about the way I love you." He murmured, stroking your cheek with the back of his hand reverently. "You mean everything to me and I'm gonna show you." His touch was so gentle, you could have closed your eyes and slumbered there in peace, forgetful of all the days before, yet something deep inside still tugged at you.

"I want to believe you, but you make it so hard sometimes," you admitted, chewing your bottom lip nervously. He tilted his head to listen carefully as you poured your heart out to him.

"You don't know what it's like to worry day and night if I'm ever gonna see you again. And I don't know if it's because you're hurt or in jail or..." you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat "or if you just don't love me anymore."

He ran a hand through your hair, large palm resting at the nape of your neck as he nodded in understanding. "M so sorry I ever made you think that."

You fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket as he said something you hadn't expected to hear. "That's over now, alright? No more."

"What did you say?" you exclaimed, eyes shooting up to meet his.

"No more takin' off. I want to be here with you. If you'll stay too?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at your suitcase with trepidation.

Your eyes followed his to the bag, staring for a long moment as you considered your decision. However, if you were honest with yourself, you'd already made up your mind. "I'll never learn," you muttered under your breath.

"Is that a yes?" he asked hopefully, leaning into your gentle nod to steal a kiss.

[guksfairy]

✧WC: 1.5k

✧Notes: Idol Jungkook, Kpop Choreographer OC, exes, kinda happy ending?, SLIGHTLY inspired by All Night by ASTRO (stream) but it’s not sad :)), most likely a one shot

✩✩✩✩✩✩✩

Koo💗: It’s laughable how you pretend you don’t care about me

The first message was sent at 11 PM.

Koo:💗: opn pls

You stare at the message illuminating your face in the darkness of your room. It was 3:18 in the morning when your phone pinged with a message from Jungkook who you had broken up with just a week prior to this. With a light scoff you decide to not even respond to it let alone let him know you read it. You lock your phone and place it on your nightstand and cover your body once more in an attempt to go back to sleep.

Just as you are about to slip back into your sweet dreams you’re interrupted by loud banging coming from the front door.

Oh god.

“Y/N!!” he’s going to wake up your neighbors. Quickly throwing on a hoodie over your silk loose night shirt you do a little run to the front door.

“Baby please let me in! The key isn’t working,” his words are slurred and his hair is a mess when you open the door. Your home is illuminated from the hallway lights and a grin from Jungkook who doesn’t hesitate to hug you the moment his eyes land on yours.

“The key won’t go in the keyhole,” he slurs tucking his head into your neck basically putting his entire weight on you.

You can’t turn him away. He’s clearly drunk in the middle of the night. Besides, it’s not like you ended on the most horrible terms. You had simply pointed out he was too busy with his work and no longer gave you the attention you desired in this relationship. He was clearly against it but he too decided it was better for the both of you. Since then you haven’t bothered to text him too busy with friends, family, and most importantly work.

You let out a grunt and push him away without fully letting him go. “Jungkook go sit on the couch,” you point to an area he’s well familiar with. Having dated for 2 years after all but he whines and shakes his head. “No no I want to be with you,” he attempts to go back into your embrace but you stop him and repeat your instructions.

“Jungkook go sit on the couch. I’m going to prepare you a tea,” He holds your gaze allowing you to notice the tears forming in the corners of his doe eyes. “You don’t love me anymore,” Shit. What do you say to that?

You do still love him but would it be confusing to say the truth and confuse drunk Jungkook. He’s already proving to be enough work so you try to avoid answering.

“Jungkook I care about you which is why I’m going to make you a warm tea so you feel better later,” you say.

“So you don’t love me?” his tone is childish with a whine. Something that always made you give in to whatever he wanted to do. Like when he wanted to go to the arcade with you but you had to focus on something works related happening very soon. He convinced you with his cute doe eyes and tone.

You avoid his question once more before pushing the front door shut and turning on your living room lights walking him to the couch he bought you. He helped you move into this apartment 1 year ago and had a good laugh when he realized you barely had any furniture so he settled on buying it for you. You wanted to resist but he was very persistent so in the end you just let him. He let you choose which one and the following week it had arrived.

Letting him fall slowly on the soft surface you grab the throw blanket beside him and throw it over his body. You walk to your kitchen and grab the pot, filling it with water, and placing it on the stove.

“Baby I’m really tired. Let’s go to bed?” his voice is loud from the living room but you ignore it. You can’t have this conversation right now. He’s drunk.

As your grubbing the mug you hear his phone go off and him answering.

“Jin hyungggg,” his cheery tone seems to confuse the older because Jungkook’s response was, “Nothing I’m fine,” with his slurred speech not helping his case.

“No hyung I’m with my girlfriend,” his eyes seem to slowly close giving into exhaustion before he’s handing the phone over to you.

“Hello?”

“Y/N?” his voice is shaky.

“Who else?” unless he was already with someone else who else would but you would he be with.

“Sorry I’m just out of it I think. Do you want Joon and I to go pick up the kid?” they seem to have already entered their car because the background goes quiet waiting for your response.

“I think you guys should just go home. It’s late and it’s not like I don’t know how to handle him,” you look at him noticing he’s only half conscious when your statement makes him smile.

“Are you sure? We don’t want to have him be a bother to you. You know with the whole…” you sigh before you tell them it’s fine and hang up placing the phone next to Jungkook realizing his screen has not changed. It’s still the picture he took of you on your trip to Japan for your first 100 days of dating. Your smile grows slightly before his phone turns off and you turn your heel back to the kitchen.

Resuming your act of serving his tea you grab his usual mug and pour his favorite tea into his favorite mug blowing on it and making your way back into the living room.

He’s snoring at this point but you don’t want his hangover to be too bad. He knows how to handle his liquor well but the hangovers were always present in the mornings. Never too bad but always there.

“Jungkook,” no response, “Jungkook,” earns you a minor hum from him, “Koo,” and that does it. His eyes open, not fully, and he moves a bit.

“Jungkook you should drink your tea,” you point to the mug previously set on your coffee table, also bought by him, in the hopes he grabs it and takes a sip but instead he looks at you nonchalantly and closes his eyes once more.

“Jungkook~” you shake him gently before he opens his eyes once more.

“Just drink this then you can sleep,” you say.

“I think we should just head to bed now, baby. I’m tired,” he says causing you to let out a deep sigh.

“Jungkook please,” he grunts but sits up as best as he can and takes ahold of the red and black mug and flinches when the liquid touches his tongue.

“Ow! It’s hot baby,” his eyes shut tight but you give no response. Instead you head back to your room and open your closet door picking the extra blankets and pillows before dragging them back to him.

“Do you want me to set this up for you?” You ask him. Watching him take another small sip, he looks up at you with his eyebrows furrowed when his sight lands on the bedding.

“Baby are you upset with me? Why can’t I sleep in your bed tonight?” You could be upfront but again are faced with the same dilema.

“I just-I’m not feeling too well. I don’t want you to catch anything,” your response seems to put his nerves at ease.

“I don’t mind it though you know that. Remember that time you had the flu and I came over and then I later got sick? I don’t mind it,” his argument only gets, “Jungkook that’s because we kissed while I was sick,” you place the items on the couch.

“I think we did more than kiss baby,” his teases cause you to softly hit his arm.

“You can set it up yourself,” making your way back into your bedroom his voice it heard again.

“Sweet dreams my love!”

“Goodnight!” You close your door not trusting yourself to deny him back in your bed. To sleep. Obviously. Nothing more.

With a heavy sigh you look at your clock reading 3:39 AM.

You still love and care for Jungkook but with his schedule and yours it just wasn’t right. He was busy with practice and performances while you were basically in the dance practice room constantly trying to perfect and teach dances for idols. Your work schedules constantly overlapped so when you got even the slightest amount of time with him you never took it for granted. Which is why the morning of when you turn and see Jungkook peacefully asleep in your bed you don’t care. You don’t push him off. You don’t get up. You forget about your breakup and allow yourself this. You let him hold you tightly like it’s the last because it very well may be.

[allfearstofallto]

Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.