#i ended up running out of tag space lmao

[keeps-ache]

ggghhg i hate vehiclessssssss ghghghhghhhhh [dies dies dies forever]

[inseobts]

Can I request a fic where reader is in love with zoro but he’s Zoro and doesn’t notice for forever. Years maybe even. But then law comes into the picture and likes reader and she finally realizes maybe it’s time to give up on Zoro and go for someone who may love her back…only for Zoro to realize how he truly feels ? 🙃 ending can be either angst or happy for Zoro!

Almost Noticed

zoro x reader + law x reader

a/n: it's almost similar to the last one I did but it was fun... and since they're my two husbands I couldn't choose a winner and I let google choose for me T.T (gonna put the photo at the end lmao)

tags: pre and post time-skip, spoilers, slow burn, tension, love triangle

words count: 6.7k

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

You sit near the railing watching Zoro from across the deck.

He’s lying on his back under the mast, one arm slung behind his head, eyes closed, but you know he’s not asleep.

It’s been months, or maybe even longer, since you started looking too long when he trained shirtless in the sun. Since you started noticing the way his voice drops when he’s serious, the way his brows furrow when he’s annoyed. Since you realized your heart does stupid flips when he calls your name in that lazy, gravel-deep voice.

He never notices. Not the way you notice everything.

He doesn’t know that you make him an extra rice ball at lunch because he always wants seconds, even if Sanji starts complaining. He doesn’t know you patch up the seams of his bandanas when they start to fray. He doesn’t see the way you look at him like he’s something holy, somehow both untouchable and familiar.

And it’s fine, or at least you tell yourself it’s fine.

“Oi.”

You blink and turn. He’s standing right behind you now, towel over his shoulder, swords glinting under moonlight “You spacing out again?”

“I—no, just thinking.”

Zoro stares at you, then leans against the railing beside you like it’s nothing. Like being close doesn’t twist your insides into knots “Don’t think too hard. You’ll overheat.”

You laugh softly “Thanks for the advice, Mr. ‘All Brawn No Brain’.”

“Tch.” He doesn’t even pretend to be insulted “At least I don’t sit around staring at people.”

Your heart stops. Just for a second.

Did he notice?

Guess no because he’s already turned away, already yawning like the conversation’s over. Like your entire world isn’t spinning.

Weeks later you are all on Sabaody Archipelago when the island becomes hell, full of chaos. You expected tension. You didn’t expect the world to start cracking apart at the edges.

The ground shakes with every step Bartholomew Kuma takes. Everything’s falling apart. Again.

You’re standing with the crew, breathing hard, bruised, blood on your temple, and Zoro’s right beside you. The air tastes like ozone and smoke. Pain screams in every bone, but you hold your stance anyway.

Zoro’s stance is steady, swords drawn, chest rising and falling. He’s ready to fight, even when it’s hopeless. He always is.

“Get back” he mutters, low enough for just you to hear.

You grip your weapon tighter “Not a chance.”

His eyes flick to you, just for a second.

Not long enough.

“Kuma’s not human” Franky shouts from across the field “We can’t beat him!”

“We have to try!” Luffy yells back.

It happens fast… too fast.

One flash of light. One massive hand. And then Poof.

First it’s Sanji.

Then Chopper.

Then Franky.

(I don’t remember the exact order, bare with me if I forget to check before posting lmao)

Gone. Like smoke in the wind.

“No… NO!” you scream, running forward, but Zoro grabs your arm and pulls you back hard.

“Stay behind me” he growls.

You should say it now, before it’s too late.

“I love you” You swallow the words.

Then Kuma steps forward again.

“Room.”

You don’t hear it but you feel like a buzz in the air, a coldness at your back. And then, suddenly, you’re not behind Zoro anymore.

You’re inside a glowing sphere. The world around you slows, like someone turned the volume down on the chaos. You spin, breath caught in your lungs.

“Trafalgar Law, right?”

He stands a few paces away, hat casting a shadow over his gold-ringed eyes, hand lifted.

“What—What are you doing? What did you do?”

“Getting you out.”

Your heart slams in your chest “I can’t leave! I have to go back. Zoro’s still—”

“I saw him.” His voice is low. Calm “You know he’s the next one and you can’t do anything.”

“No,” you whisper. Your fists shake “He—he doesn’t even know—”

Law watches you carefully “But you do.”

You turn, trying to run back toward the others but Kuma’s hand is already over Zoro, light bursting around him like a nova.

And then he’s gone.

Just like that.

“NO!” You scream, stumbling forward, but Law grabs you and pulls you against him.

“Don’t waste it” he murmurs against your hair “You got lucky you weren’t far enough for me to reach you.”

“I didn’t want luck,” you breathe “I want them back.”

Later on you wake up to a low hum. Not waves. Not creaking wood. Something colder. Something deeper.

Your eyes snap open. The room is dim, lit only by a strip of soft light lining the metal walls. You’re not on the Thousand Sunny anymore.

“Where—?”

You try to sit up too fast, pain flaring in your ribs. Your voice is hoarse.

“Careful.”

You turn. Law is standing near the door, coat off, arms crossed over his chest. His tattoos catch the low light like ink on porcelain.

“You passed out,” he says “Shock, maybe. Or blood loss. Or both.”

You sit back slowly, memory returning in fragments.

Sabaody. Kuma. Zoro.

All of your crew… gone.

You close your eyes, chest rising with a shaky breath “You shouldn’t have pulled me out.”

Law says nothing.

“I would’ve rather—” You don’t finish the sentence.

He watches you for a long time. Then “I know.”

That’s it. No lecture. No pity.

He just says it like a fact. Like someone who understands what it means to lose everything in a single heartbeat.

The next few days pass in a blur.

The Polar Tang is too clean. Too quiet. The crew is polite but distant. You eat in silence. Sleep too much. You try not to think them, of Zoro, you try not to remember the way he stood in front of you before Kuma could reach you.

Try not to remember that he never even turned around to see if you’d followed, widening his eyes when he realised you disappeared like that.

Law keeps his distance. He doesn’t ask questions. Doesn’t comfort you. But you catch him watching sometimes.

When you forget to eat, he sends food without a word.

When you sit in the med bay too long staring at nothing, he walks in, grabs supplies, and walks out again, without breaking the silence.

You wish you could hate him for pulling you out. For saving you when no one else made it.

But you don’t. You can’t.

Because in those rare moments when he looks at you, you feel like maybe he’s just as lost.

One night, you’re in the observation room, staring at the ocean through a round porthole. You don’t hear him come in.

“I keep seeing it,” you say softly, not turning around “Zoro… the way he disappeared. I didn’t even say anything.”

“You wouldn’t have had time” Law answers.

You let out a hollow laugh “I had years, actually.”

That shuts him up.

You finally look over your shoulder “You’re not going to tell me I’ll move on?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

He pauses, then shrugs “Because I wouldn’t.”

The words hit harder than you expect. You swallow.

He steps closer, hands in his pockets, voice low “I didn’t save you for you, you know.”

Your breath catches “What does that mean?”

Law meets your eyes for half a second. Then he shakes his head.

“Forget it.”

He turns to leave.

You almost call out to him, ask him to stay, but you don’t.

Because Zoro never said what you needed to hear. And now Law won’t either.

Days pass. Maybe weeks. You don’t count them.

The crew leaves you alone. Law doesn’t.

Not in an obvious way, he never lingers too long, never asks too much. But he’s always there, hovering at the edges of your grief like someone who’s used to ghosts.

And Zoro is a ghost. Not dead. Not gone forever. But still gone.

You wonder if he thought of you before he disappeared. If he was scared.

You dig your nails into your palms and force your mind blank.

Law, standing across the room, doesn’t comment. But you know he notices.

Later, at night, you go sitting on the cold metal floor in the lower deck, knees tucked to your chest.

Law’s voice cuts through the silence.

“You keep sitting in dark corners like that, and someone’s gonna think you died.”

You huff a quiet laugh, not looking up “Maybe I did.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Then he says “That’s not how it works.”

You finally glance at him. He’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, unreadable as always.

“How does it work, then?” you ask “Losing people?”

Law exhales, slow “Like an open wound. You live with it.”

Your throat tightens.

“You ever lost someone?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

His jaw shifts slightly.

“Yes.”

The weight of it sits between you.

You don’t ask who.

He doesn’t ask why you’re asking.

The silence stretches, but this time, it doesn’t feel empty.

You don’t realize how long he stays there until you finally stand up, lightheaded, exhausted, and he just… turns and walks away.

Like he was only there to make sure you got back up at all.

Another week passes, maybe?

You start eating more. Sleeping less.

The crew stops treating you like a ghost. Bepo tells you stories. Shachi and Penguin try to drag you into their dumb arguments. And Law still keeps his distance.

But one night, when you wake up from another dream where they disappear right in front of you, you stumble into the hallway, breath shaky, and he’s already there. Like he knew.

He doesn’t touch you. Doesn’t say a word.

Just stands there, hands in his pockets, eyes sharp in the dim light.

And for the first time since Sabaody, you don’t feel completely alone.

It’s chaos. Worse than Sabaody.

The battlefield burns, the sky cracked open by fire and screams. Bodies fall. The ocean churns red.

You stand on the deck of the Polar Tang, numb, gripping the railing so hard your knuckles go white. You don’t blink. Don’t move. Because if you do, you might break apart completely.

“Luffy!”

He’s right there.

Not an echo. Not a dream. He’s alive, stumbling forward with Ace’s lifeless body still clutched against his chest, screaming so raw and broken it rips through you.

Your throat closes. You feel sick.

I should have been there.

You don’t realize you’re crying until a hand closes around your wrist.

“Go inside” Law says, voice quiet but firm.

You shake your head wildly “No! I have to—”

“You’ll only get in the way.”

The words cut deep, but you know he’s right.

This isn’t your fight anymore. It was never yours to begin with.

When it’s over, you sit beside Luffy in the Polar Tang’s infirmary. He’s unconscious, face pale, breath shallow.

Tears slip down your cheeks, silent and endless.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper “I’m so sorry.”

You don’t hear Law approach, but suddenly, his shadow stretches across the dim room. He doesn’t say anything, just watches.

After a moment, he kneels beside you.

“He’ll live” he says simply.

You press a hand over your mouth, nodding shakily.

Law stays kneeling there for a few seconds longer, like he almost wants to reach for you. But then he stands, and the moment is gone.

Two weeks later Luffy stands on the shore, fists clenched.

“I’m going to train” he says “For two years.”

You nod, already knowing.

Then he turns to you “You should train too.”

Your breath catches “With you?”

“No.” Luffy shakes his head pointing slightly and fast at Law “With him.”

Your stomach drops “Luffy—”

“You’re not strong enough yet...” he says, no hesitation, no softness “None of us were.”

You flinch.

Luffy doesn’t mean to hurt you, but he’s right. You weren’t strong enough. Not to stop Kuma. Not to fight in Marineford.

Not even to keep Zoro in your life.

You turn to Law, who watches you in that unreadable way of his.

“You want me to stay?” you ask.

He shrugs “Your captain does.”

“And you?”

Something flickers in his eyes, quick as lightning. But then it’s gone.

“We leave tomorrow.”

That’s all he says and you don’t argue.

Luffy waves from the shore one last time, grinning even though he’s still healing, even though everything’s shattered.

“Train hard!” he yells “Don’t die!”

You wave back. Smile. Fake it.

“See you in two years, Captain!” you say.

He disappears into the jungle with Rayleigh at his side.

And that’s it. Luffy’s gone.

The last thread connecting you to the Straw Hats...

You don’t make it far. Maybe ten steps onto the Polar Tang before your knees buckle.

You sink to the floor in the hallway, fists clenched, trying to breathe.

They’re all gone. And Luffy, your captain, your anchor, isn’t the one you have to follow now.

Your whole chest aches with the weight of them, and Zoro... who never even looked back at you in the same way you looked at him.

Your hands shake. You press them to your mouth, try to swallow the sob, but it bursts out anyway.

You don’t hear footsteps. But suddenly Law is there, crouched beside you like he’s been waiting.

“Let it out” he says, voice low, steady.

You cry harder.

Ugly, gasping sobs that have been locked in since Sabaody. You curl into yourself, and he doesn’t touch you, he just stays.

You don’t know how long it lasts. Minutes. Maybe more.

When your breathing finally evens out, you whisper “I didn’t want to go with you.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to stay with them.”

“I know” he says again. But it’s softer this time. Almost careful.

You look up at him, eyes swollen and wet “Why did you even save me?”

He doesn’t answer. Just stands and offers a hand.

“Come on. I’m training you. Start now.”

Day one, training begins and you’re sore within an hour.

Law doesn’t go easy on you, not out of cruelty, but because he doesn’t believe in easy.

He corrects your stance with a flick of his sword, shoves your balance when it’s off, tells you when your swings are weak. But he never mocks. Never smirks.

And when you collapse into the dirt, gasping for breath, he tosses you a canteen and says:

“You did better than yesterday.”

“…It’s the first day.”

He shrugs “I’m setting the bar low.”

It almost makes you laugh.

That night, you stare at the ceiling of your bunk, arms aching, mind fogged with exhaustion.

And you realize Law could’ve left you behind. Could’ve dropped you off somewhere from the beginning. But he didn’t.

He’s not kind. But he’s constant. Present.

You fall asleep thinking of Zoro.

But just before your dreams take you, you actually see Law’s eyes, calm and steady, and feel just a little less alone.

Month one, and Law doesn’t hold back.

He pushes you until your muscles scream, until you’re too exhausted to think. Maybe that’s the point, maybe he knows you’d drown in your own thoughts if he let you rest too long.

At night, you collapse into your bunk, body bruised, mind blank.

And sometimes, when the nightmares come, he’s already awake. He never says anything. Never asks. But if you step outside to breathe, he’s always leaning somewhere out there, pretending it’s a coincidence.

Month three, and training drill goes wrong. Your foot slips, and you hit the ground har, too hard. You try to get up, but your vision sways.

Law is there in an instant as he kneels beside you, eyes sharp with something you almost don’t recognize. Worry.

“You hit your head,” he mutters, scanning you “Idiot.”

You blink up at him, dazed “You care.”

His hands still for half a second.

Then he scoffs, expression smoothing into something unreadable “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But when he helps you stand, his grip is steady. Careful.

Month eight, Law’s sword crashes against yours, and your blood thrums with the fight, and when you smirk at him, he smirks back.

Not mocking.

Not cold.

Just something warm.

The moment is gone too fast. But that night, lying in bed, you realize you stopped thinking about him that much.

Year one, and you have your first real battle of your time with the Heart Pirates. A raid gone wrong.

You’re cornered, outnumbered, bleeding, one knee on the ground.

And then shink. A blade flashes.

When you look up, Law is standing over you, sword drawn, eyes dark with something dangerous.

You breathe hard, staring up at him “You...”

“Idiot.” His voice is sharp, but his hands, when he helps you up, are steady “You were reckless.”

“You saved me again.”

“Tch. I told you before.” he mutters, gripping your arm “Don’t flatter yourself.”

But that night, when you pass out from exhaustion, you swear you feel someone pull a blanket over you.

It’s weird. You don’t remember when it started, when the metal walls of the submarine stopped feeling cold.

You laugh easier these days. Mostly because of the crew.

Bepo makes dumb jokes that hit way too hard when you’re tired. Penguin and Shachi bicker like toddlers. You’ve been caught in the middle more than once.

“You’re taking my side, right?” Shachi demands.

“She likes me more” Penguin argues.

You just smirk “Bepo’s the only one with a brain. I’m staying on his side.”

They groan in betrayal. Bepo beams.

You catch Law watching from the upper deck, arms crossed, leaning against the railing like he’s not paying attention, but you know he is. He watches a lot now. He listens when you’re laughing, eyes sharp, expression unreadable. Not because he’s annoyed, but because he knows the clock’s ticking.

Soon, you’ll leave.

He doesn’t say it. He never would.

But you see it in the way he looks at you like he’s memorizing it all.

And what makes it worse is that with time you’ve gotten even bolder. You tease him now, just to see if you can crack that calm exterior.

“Law,” you lean across the table with your chin in your palm, “have I finally impressed you yet?”

He doesn’t even glance up from the reports “No.”

You grin “Liar.”

He looks at you then. Just briefly. But there’s something dangerous in his eyes. Warm and annoyed.

“You’re becoming a nuisance” he says.

“And yet,” you whisper with mock drama, “you’ve never kicked me off your ship.”

His jaw ticks. You love it.

You turn away smiling, leaving him there, stoic and silent, pretending you didn’t just get under his skin again.

He watches you walk off, fingers tapping once against the table, tension in his shoulders that has nothing to do with the reports.

Year two, you still think about Zoro, but your heart is quieter now.

You don’t think of him every night like before.

And that realization actually terrifies you. Because you’ve spent years thinking of Zoro.

And somehow, without meaning to, without wanting to, you started looking at someone else.

Two years vanish in the wind.

Your boots hit Sabaody’s soil.

Same place. Same light in the sky. But nothing feels the same, not the way you stand taller, breathe steadier, walk with quiet strength instead of wide-eyed hope.

The crew is here.

Your crew.

Luffy’s laugh is the same. Usopp’s dramatic wailing makes you snort. Nami nearly tackles you in a hug.

Sanji cries actual blood when he sees you. Chopper does his little spin.

You smile so much your face hurts. But your heart stays still.

Because he’s not here.

Not yet.

You hear the footsteps behind you first. Steady. Heavy. Familiar.

You turn and there he is.

Zoro.

He’s taller. Broader. Scars you don’t recognize. A presence so solid it makes the air shift.

His gaze snaps to yours, and it holds. No blink. No hesitation.

Your breath catches.

“Hey” you whisper.

It’s barely a word. Barely a sound.

He’s staring like he hasn’t seen anyone else since the day you disappeared.

“…You’re alive” he says. Voice low.

You nod “So are you.”

A beat.

He steps forward, and for a second you think he’s going to touch you. Say something. Anything. But he just stops a foot away.

“…You look stronger.” he says.

You blink, a laugh slipping out that’s part broken, part breathless “Took me long enough.”

He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t look away. Just says “I looked for you.”

Your heart slams.

“What?”

“When we got back.” He says it like it’s nothing “I looked. Didn’t stop for months. Thought you were dead.”

You try to swallow, but your throat’s tight “I—I was with Law.”

His jaw tenses “Yeah. I heard.”

Silence stretches between you.

He looks the same, but not really. He feels different. Like the sharp edges are still there, but dulled by time. Regret.

And you’re not sure what you feel, because for these two years, Zoro haunted you. And now he’s here, real and solid and late.

He shifts closer again, eyes flicking over your face “You okay?”

You nod, barely “You?”

“Better now.” he says, almost too low to hear.

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because behind you, someone calls your name.

You turn, just enough to see Law, standing off to the side, watching. Zoro’s gaze follows yours.

And the moment breaks.

Law finds you leaning over a crate on the dock, hands smudged with oil from helping Franky. The sun’s setting, orange light stretching long across the sea.

“You leaving already?” you ask, tossing him a crooked grin.

He nods “I did my job and you're here now. My crew’s waiting.”

You straighten up. Suddenly, it doesn’t feel like just a goodbye.

“Oh.”

He doesn’t meet your eyes “You’re back where you belong.”

You hate how your throat tightens “Law...”

“I don’t regret it” he cuts in, voice low “Any of it. Saving you. Training you. Keeping you.”

You stare at him, heart thudding.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean” he says, eyes flicking up to meet yours.

"You usually don't talk much at all."

“Then take this as a rare moment of honesty.”

You laugh a little, shaky “Okay…”

He steps closer, close enough that your shoulders nearly touch “You were never just someone I saved.”

The world tilts. You don’t breathe.

“You're back with them now…” he hesitates, swallows, “With him... as you always wanted.”

That’s when it hits you.

The shift in your chest. The ache you’ve been ignoring. The weight behind every time you teased him. Every time he didn’t laugh, but stayed.

You look up at him and it’s all over your face.

Law sees it.

You don’t say anything. You can’t. Because it’s too late.

So you just nod, eyes shining.

“Goodbye, Law.”

He looks at you one last time, as if memorizing it. Then he turns and leaves.

Zoro watches from the shadows. He doesn’t mean to. But he sees it all.

The way you stand still long after Law disappears from sight.

The way your shoulders tremble, just once.

And, worst of all, the look you gave him. That soft, broken, aching look.

Zoro’s chest goes tight, because he knows that look. You used to give it to him, back when he was too blind to see it.

Now, he sees it clear as day, but it’s not for him anymore.

Later that night, he tries anyway.

He finds you on the deck, alone, arms wrapped around yourself.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

You turn slowly. Smile tiredly “Sure.”

He steps closer. Hesitates. Then “I meant what I said. I missed you. I still do.”

You blink, surprised “Zoro...”

“I didn’t know how to say it back then. But I do now.”

You look at him, really look, and something in your face flickers.

Soft but sad.

“I waited a long time” you whisper.

“I know.”

“And now…” you trail off “Now, I don’t know what I feel.”

He nods, jaw tight “But I do.”

You close your eyes “I’m sorry.”

And that’s it. He’s too late.

Zoro isn’t good with words, but he can do actions. So he sticks close.

He stands by you during battles. Helps you sharpen your blade even when you insist you can do it yourself. He throws his jacket at you during a cold night on deck without saying a word.

You stop flinching when he shows up.

You stop looking away so quickly.

That’s progress, right?

One night, he brings you food. He sets it beside you with a quiet, “Eat. You skipped dinner.”

You glance up “Didn’t think you noticed.”

“I notice a lot more now.”

Your eyes meet his. There’s warmth there, brief, flickering. And Zoro clings to it.

He doesn’t say the words again. Not yet. He knows now that words have weight. That the next time he confesses, it can’t be casual. It can’t be a maybe.

So he waits.

Watches.

Hopes.

You’re softer with him. You laugh sometimes. You don’t run anymore. But you also don’t reach for him. Not the way you used to.

Weeks pass. Battles come and go. And with every scar, every shared glance, every late-night conversation, Zoro starts to think.

Maybe this time he’ll be enough.

Maybe you’re still finding your way back.

Then Punk Hazard happens. The fog. The cold. The chaos.

And amid all that... “Room.”

Zoro turns fast. His hand tightens around his sword.

Law.

He’s standing like he never left. Calm. Collected. Surgeon’s eyes scanning the area.

And then he sees you.

You freeze. You don’t say anything, but you smile.

Not the polite kind. Not the cautious one you give strangers.

It’s soft. Familiar. Full.

Zoro watches your whole face change, lit from within in a way he hasn’t seen in years.

And that’s when it hits him.

You really do look at Law the way you used to look at him.

He turns away before you can see the hurt break through his face.

For the first time since he started trying, Zoro feels something crack.

He’s not done yet. But for the first time, he wonders if trying is enough.

The alliance happens fast. Faster than anyone expects. But not without meaning.

Luffy grins wide as ever, standing on the snowy remains of the Punk Hazard wreckage, hand outstretched “Let’s do it!”

Law hesitates for half a second, like he always does. Like he’s weighing every possible outcome.

But then his eyes flick past Luffy, just for a moment. To you.

Standing there, watching, quiet.

He takes the hand.

The crew erupts behind you, half celebrating, half groaning.

“An alliance with him? Really?!” Usopp yells.

“Great,” Nami mutters “Another brooding one.”

Sanji lights a cigarette, eyes narrowing at Law “As long as he keeps his hands off certain people, I guess it’s fine.”

You roll your eyes “Sanji!”

Law blinks, then tilts his head “Was that directed at me?”

Sanji blows out smoke “You did spend two years alone with her, didn’t you?”

You choke. Zoro tenses.

And Law... oh God, he blushes.

It’s the faintest thing. Barely there. Just a brush of pink at his cheekbones.

But everyone sees it.

Robin smiles knowingly. Franky lets out a long “oooooohhh!” Chopper gasps like he’s watching a soap opera.

You cover your face with both hands “Oh my god.”

Law clears his throat and looks away “This is an alliance. Nothing more.”

Sanji grins like a wolf “Didn’t say it wasn’t anything else.”

Luffy just shrugs “Trafalgar’s cool. He helped when I couldn’t.”

That makes everyone pause, because that matters.

Luffy doesn’t say things like that often.

He looks at you next, eyes clear and serious for once “He kept you alive. And that means something to me.”

Your chest tightens.

Law doesn’t respond, but his shoulders shift, barely. The way they do when he’s holding something in.

Zoro doesn’t say anything either. But he hears everything. He sees everything. And it burns.

You’re all in the same ship now, as Law temporarily sail with you all.

It’s chaos. Tension thick in the air. But it’s not the alliance that’s unstable.

It’s Zoro and Law.

It starts small.

During a strategy meeting, you lean over Law’s shoulder to point at the map.

“Right here. If we flank from the east—”

Zoro cuts in from behind you “That’s a crap angle. It exposes our backs.”

Law doesn’t even look up “Not if we use your crew as decoys.”

Zoro’s eye twitches “You offering to lead that charge, or just hoping we’ll take the hit for you?”

“Don’t project your martyr complex on me, Roronoa.”

You sigh, stepping between them before things can escalate “Can we not have a dick-measuring contest over a map?”

Law raises a brow “Who said anything about that?”

Zoro smirks “Pretty sure I’m winning anyway.”

“Zoro!”

He glances at you. Shrugs “Just saying.”

Law’s lips twitch, somewhere between annoyance and something else “Very mature.”

Later that day, you’re sparring on deck, Zoro by your side, running drills. He’s focused, strict, pushing you hard, harder than usual.

“You’re dropping your left,” he grunts “Again.”

“I’m tired...”

“You’ll be dead if you fight like that.”

You glare at him, wiping sweat from your brow “God, you’re such an ass sometimes.”

“Only when you’re being lazy.”

“You wanna fight?”

He smirks “Thought we were.”

Before you can respond...

“Maybe she needs a better teacher.”

You both turn.

Law stands a few feet away, arms crossed, tone dry.

Zoro straightens, blade resting on his shoulder “You volunteering?”

Law shrugs “At least I know how to critique without barking like a feral animal.”

Zoro steps forward, slow, deliberate “She’s strong because I push her. I’ve been training with her since before you knew her name.”

Law’s gaze doesn’t waver “And yet, she still survived two years without you.”

You can feel the tension crackle in the air, and you’re right in the middle.

“Enough!” you snap, stepping between them “I’m not a prize. You don’t get to fight over me like I’m some damn bounty.”

Neither of them speaks. But they don’t look away from each other either.

Zoro’s jaw is tight.

Law’s hands curl just slightly at his sides.

“Get your shit together. Both of you.”

And then you walk off. Neither of them follows, but both of them want to.

You avoid them both for a while.

Let them stay in their own awkward silences and heavy stares.

Zoro finds you first.

“You’re pissed.”

You don’t look at him “You think?”

He doesn’t back off. He never does.

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel like you’re caught in the middle.”

“You weren’t?” you laugh bitterly “Because it really feels like it, Zoro.”

His voice lowers “I’m trying to tell you I still—”

“Now you want to say something?” you cut in “After years of pretending I didn’t exist? After I stopped looking at you like you were my whole world?”

Zoro flinches. Just a little.

You don’t stop “You only noticed me after someone else did. That’s not love, Zoro. That’s jealousy.”

“It’s not,” he says, sharp now “You think I didn’t feel it back then? I did. I just… didn’t know what to do with it. I thought we had time.”

You stare at him “We didn’t.”

Silence.

And then “Do you love him?”

The question lands like a weight.

You blink. Breathe. Whisper “I don’t know.”

Zoro doesn’t move. But everything in him tenses.

You keep going, quieter now “I loved you for so long, Zoro. I would’ve followed you anywhere.”

He’s looking at the ground now “I know.”

“And you didn’t even have to do anything. You just had to see me.”

“I see you now.”

You shake your head “Maybe too late.”

That night, Law comes to you. Quiet as ever.

You’re sitting at the railing, staring at the sea like it has answers. He stops beside you and sits.

“I shouldn’t have fought with him.”

You glance at him “Didn’t exactly help.”

He nods, once “I know.”

There’s silence for a beat. Then “I didn’t want to come back. I thought maybe it would be easier for you if I stayed gone.”

“That’s not what I wanted.”

He turns his head to look at you “I know. But I also know how you looked at him.”

You laugh softly, bitter “I used to. Not sure I even remember how it felt anymore.”

Law watches you “Do you remember it when you look at me now?”

You swallow “I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. And it hurts.

“I think I wanted to.”

His eyes soften “That’s not the same thing.”

You nod “I know.”

Two men.

One you loved for years.

One who helped you find yourself again.

And now, you have to choose.

Zoro doesn’t approach you after that conversation.

For days, he stays distant. His eyes heavy with everything unsaid, his silence louder than any words could be.

It’s not easy for him. But somehow, it’s easier for you.

You’re not holding on anymore. Not to him. Not to the past.

The nights spent on deck, watching the stars with Law, become moments of clarity for you. He’s the calm in your storm. The one who doesn’t try to change you, doesn’t try to fix you.

He simply… is.

You go sit beside him, your shoulder grazing his. Your heart is full of things you can’t put into words, things you don’t need to say because he knows.

And for once, you’re not scared of the future.

“I’m sorry” you murmur, breaking the silence.

He looks at you. His expression unreadable, but there’s understanding in his eyes “For what?”

“For everything,” you say, a little shakier than you expected “For making this so… messy. For making it hurt.”

His lips twitch, just a little. A subtle hint of a smile “It wasn’t just you.”

You look down at your hands, fingers fidgeting “I don’t know when it happened. When I stopped thinking about him like that. But I guess… I was always looking for something different from that. Someone who would…”

“See you?” Law finishes softly.

You nod “Yeah.”

“I see you.” His voice is steady, as it always is.

The words wrap around you like a blanket, and you feel something inside you uncoil, like it’s been waiting for this moment. For someone to just see you. All of you. No conditions. No hesitations.

“I’m sorry” you repeat, but this time, it’s softer. Not a confession, but a release. A letting go.

He doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leans closer. You’re not sure if you should pull away. You don’t. You can’t.

When his lips meet yours, it’s gentle. You kiss him, and it feels like coming home.

The next morning, Zoro is gone. Not physically, he’s still there. But he’s… gone.

He doesn’t look at you the way he used to. He doesn’t demand your attention. He doesn’t hold your gaze for too long, hoping you’ll see something in him that you used to.

And you don’t feel the ache in your chest anymore.

It’s the quietest goodbye you could’ve hoped for.

You stand beside Law as the waves crash against the ship, the wind tugging at your hair. It feels like a beginning. A new beginning.

“I’ve got your back” Law says quietly, his voice the same steady promise.

You smile, looking out toward the horizon “I know.”

You pause for a moment, then turn to him with a teasing grin “But, you know…”

He raises an eyebrow “What?”

“If we’re going to be all teamwork and allies like this…” You give him a playful glance, “You have to stop looking so serious all the time. It’s like you’re trying to compete with Zoro again but for the ‘most brooding’ title this time.”

He actually blinks at you. And then… he smirks “Is that so? I didn’t realize I had competition.”

“Mmhm.” You tilt your head, as if seriously contemplating the challenge “But I’ll let you have it. For now.”

He chuckles softly “I’ll try not to disappoint, then.”

You nudge him with your shoulder, laughter bubbling up between you “You’re lucky you’re cute when you do it.”

His smirk widens "You have a type."

You gasp at his honesty, and you push him away just for him to push you back in his arms. You laugh and he smiles, you'd pay to stay in this moment forever, because joking, laughing with him, loving him... it feels even better than you could ever imagine.

Alternative Ending

The days after your conversation with Zoro are tense. He stays distant at first, too, as if unsure how to act after everything. But the quiet between you both doesn’t last long.

One evening, you find yourself standing at the edge of the ship, staring at the vast sea, the weight of your heart pulling you down.

It’s late. The only sound is the gentle rush of the waves.

You can feel him before you hear him.

“Y/N.”

You turn and see Zoro stands a few feet away, his silhouette dark against the moonlit sky. His expression is unreadable, but his voice cracks slightly.

“I’ve been an idiot.”

You blink, surprised at the words.

He steps forward, hesitating, then adds, “I should’ve told you. A long time ago. I...” He stops himself, runs a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated “I wasn’t ready. And I thought… I thought you’d wait for me. But I was wrong.”

You stare at him, heart beating faster with every word.

“I don’t know how to say this, but...” He takes a breath, looking you directly in the eyes now “I’ve been in love with you since the beginning. Since the first time I saw you, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. But I didn’t know how to show it. And when you started looking at someone else…” He clenches his fist “It killed me. I know I didn’t deserve you, but I couldn’t just... let you go.”

You swallow hard. He sounds so vulnerable now, in a way you’ve never heard before. It’s the side of him that never showed, always hidden behind his gruff exterior.

“Zoro…” you say softly, taking a step toward him.

“I know you might think it’s too late.” He looks down, the weight of his regret pressing him down “But I’ll keep fighting for you. If you’ll give me the chance.”

Your heart flutters, a mixture of relief and a longing you haven’t felt in so long. You step forward until you’re right in front of him, your breath mingling in the quiet air.

“I...” you hesitate for a second “I thought I was over you. That I had to let go.”

His hand twitches at his side, wanting to reach out but unsure “I know. And I don’t deserve you anymore.”

“But you’re here now.”

His eyes flicker with hope “I’m here now.”

Without a word, you step closer, closing the small gap between you. And you kiss him.

It’s slow at first. Tentative, unsure, like the beginning of something new. And for a moment, the entire world disappears. There’s no tension, no confusion, just you and him.

When you pull away, he’s staring at you, eyes wide, disbelief and joy mixing in his expression.

“Zoro, I…” You can barely catch your breath “I choose you. I choose us.”

He blinks, then grins, a rare, honest smile you’ve only seen glimpses of. He pulls you closer, this time with certainty.

“I’m not letting go this time, Y/N. I promise.”

The next morning, you wake up to the sound of Zoro sharpening his swords on the deck. You sit up slowly, stretching your arms, a small smile tugging at your lips.

He notices you and pauses, wiping his sweat from his forehead.

“You’re up early” he grunts, clearly still adjusting to this softer side of him.

You nod “Couldn’t sleep. Had too much on my mind.”

“Like what?” He smirks, teasing now.

You chuckle and roll your eyes “Like how stubborn you are sometimes.”

He raises an eyebrow “Me? Stubborn? You must be confusing me with someone else.”

You walk over to him, standing beside him for a moment before you take a deep breath and add, “I’ve always been in love with you, Zoro. But I needed you to see me.”

He grins, his usual cocky demeanor returning “I see you now.”

“You better!” you reply with a playful smirk, your heart finally light.

And for the first time in a long while, it feels like the beginning of something that could last.

- THE END, for real now -

[saintrosalyn]

BIRD DOG - JAILBIRD PART TWO

Part One

Description: Simon’s determined to retrieve his jailbird.

Word count: 4.5k

TW: Parolee! Reader (guys we’ve graduated to parole), stalking, reader is kept as vague as possible, sexual favors in exchange for money, groping, Ghost is a creep (graduated from perv lmao), p in v, oral (m! receiving), p in v, mention of breeding kink, creampie, possessiveness, dub-con, somewhat edited.

Notes: It’s finally done! This took longer than I anticipated since I deviated from the OG plan and was a bit of a stinker to write but it's done. I hope everyone enjoys it! I’ve absolutely loved reading all the comments, asks, and reblogs. Such positive feedback is what led me to posting part two honestly. I'm currently working on the last part of JB so expect that soon💖. Feedback is always appreciated but never expected. Let me know if I missed any tags. Enjoy :)

Also I've never done a tag list before so apologies if it didn't work or I missed anyone😭. Please let me know if the link to part one doesn't work either, this is the first time I'm using Tumblr on my laptop I usually use my phone.

You got used to the slight tremor in your hands, the parting kiss alcoholism left with you, but the violent shaking as you attempted to click the lock of the hotel door closed was difficult for even you to handle. You longed to feel that familiar burn of self-destruction but the only place that would have you end up is back in prison. Parole violation. It was too soon to resort to such dramatic measures, instead you quietly paced your small room, double checking that you clicked the deadbolt shut, closing the curtains as tight as they could go, anything to try and soothe your rising anxiety.

Talking yourself away from the edge again and again until you could finally sit down on the stiff mattress. Every time you managed to calm your heart you blinked and saw that room again. You saw those pictures again.

He-Simon.

You swallowed, forcing yourself to take deep, slow, breaths. 

After sleeping together, after discovering the skeleton in his closet, you swallowed the bile in your throat and kissed his jaw. He made dinner which you smiled over and forced into your mouth, every bite downed with a sip of water. The two of you went to bed, your eyes darting to that door, now left open enough you could see a glimpse of his homemade wallpaper. He kept an arm draped over you and fell asleep. 

Then you left.

Barefoot, not knowing where your shoes had been placed in your need to-

Jesus Christ you had slept with the man.

You barely made it to the bathroom, puking mostly water and yellowed acid up. It made your eyes water and nose run, blowing it in a piece of toilet paper, flushing it down. There was little comfort to be found in the distance you put between you and him. 

Going on foot wasn’t the brightest idea, but risking stealing Simon’s car and having him call the cops on you was foolish even for you. That and you didn’t want the man any angrier at you than you expected he was going to be. You only got so far before you found yourself on the wrong side of town. You had never been in the area before, but you knew the type. Women posted on every corner, bars on the windows, broken glass and sticky residue staining the sidewalks. It didn’t take you long to find the kind of man you needed. Trading a handjob for a bus fare, a blowjob for a new pair of shoes, and a pitiful two minutes of dry thrusting for a hotel room. 

Back to your ways. Different city, different time, same person. A bird incapable of changing its tune.

You needed a real job. A record stood in your way of that, but surely there had to be something, anything, that would pay enough for you to keep a roof over your head without having to sell more of yourself. 

You needed a job, but you needed space more. As much as you could get. Immigration was out, no one wanted to host a felon, and you were limited to a certain area before your parole officer got testy with you. Fuck. A big cage, that’s what you were trapped in. One you could never get free from.

Your family. Your past. Your cell. Your city. Your whole fucking life, one cage after another. Freedom a concept rather than a reality. Simon could use it against you. He knew of your limits, hell, you fucking told him yourself over a phone call before you got released. Outlined every fucking sentence of where you could and couldn’t go. He knew all of it.

Taking another deep breath you forced your body to lie on the bed, you needed to calm down. You needed to think clearly and come up with a plan. Simon was still asleep in bed, he didn’t know where you were, you were fine. 

You were fine.

A good night’s sleep. That’s what you needed. Not likely with how wound tight you were. But you had to try. Anything to escape the panic squeezing your lungs.

___

It took four hours of staring blankly at a dark ceiling, on the edge of a panic attack the entire time, before your body gave in and let you sleep. It was light, but it was enough of a break in your consciousness. The sun was what woke you, shining on your eyes and causing you to squint. Your anxiety a gentle heart palpitation rather than the full blown panic it was last night, exhaustion dulling its edge. 

The first thing you did was go business to business looking for a place that was hiring. Most required a resume, those you didn’t even give a second glance (as they no doubt did background checks). It took all of the day before you found a shitty pub that only asked if you were old enough to drink. With a nod of your head an apron was shoved into your hands, and you were bussing for your first shift. 

The owner, a balding man who smelled like cigarettes and wore a sweat-stained wife beater, paid you cash. Enough that you were able to buy another night to cover your hotel room and not much else. You walked back to your temporary home, eyes darting to every tall man who crossed the street. For once, you were grateful Simon was such a large man. It would make him easier to spot in a crowd, the orange of a tiger’s fur stark against a green jungle.

When you returned back to your room, it was easy to explain the movement of your things. Hotels had housekeepers. You wouldn’t have even noticed it if it weren’t for your paranoid state. It wasn’t until you went to the bathroom, eager to wash away the grease and grime of the pub, that you noticed a small picture sitting face-down on the bathroom counter. Flipping it over revealed you. You, asleep in your shitty hotel bed, close-up, taken from inside. 

You were barely able to flip the toilet lid up before you lost your stomach contents. Vile burning the back of your throat was nothing in comparison to the panic that burned through your veins.

He was inside your hotel room. He was inside your hotel room last night with you. 

You barely managed to stand, legs shaking, leaving the bathroom you noticed other signs of his arrival. Dirty tracks that were much too large. The blinds wide-open even though you were sure you closed them before you went to sleep. A single dog tag resting underneath your pillow. It’s owner’s name mocking you.

Riley.

___

He left you more presents. Vestiges of him ever present in your life. It didn’t matter where you went, how many hotels you hopped, how many jobs you changed, he always found you. Truthfully, the both of you knew this song and dance could only go on for so long. You were low on cash and stuck orbiting around the same small area. Days bled into weeks bled into months. Fear gave way to anger. Anger that he wouldn’t leave you alone. Anger that he wouldn’t let you delude yourself into thinking you had found a safe space that he could not intrude on.

On your nth hotel, you decided you were staying. Simon be damned. He obviously had no intentions of killing you just yet, content in tormentation. That and there were only so many jobs willing to pay under-the-table. You needed to save up enough cash to prove that you had a steady place to live, a recommendation from your parole officer. This flightiness made the law suspicious at best and nervous at worst. 

You found your way back to the pub, who upgraded you to server. On the wrong side of town its patrons weren’t the best. But they tipped decent enough and if they got too handsy the owner always stepped in. A few pinches on the ass were worth a steady income. You’ve given a lot more of yourself for less.

Perhaps, that was your mistake, you got too comfortable with a wild animal. So sure that your exotic pet would not bite.

The first time you saw him, you thought it was a mistake. Despite his size Simon was able to go about your life as he pleased without you catching even a glimpse of him. Hell, you knew he could stalk you without you being aware of him at all (your prison stint was proof enough of that), he just chose not to. You shouldn’t have been surprised that his behavior would escalate. 

You were standing, dead on your feet after your shift working on three hours of sleep, waiting for the bus. And there he was. Across the street, large frame leaning against a wall, arms crossed. When you did a double glance, you were able to make out the tell-tale scars across his face. Then the bus came. It was a coin toss, boarding the bus. A part of you wanted to flee, figuring he could easily cross the street and board the same bus as you, but the alternative was worse. Let it pass and walk home alone. In the dark. With a predator at your heels. 

No.

Better to have people around you. Safety in numbers and all that.

The next day, he did it again. And again. And again. Each time coming closer and closer. Until one day you saw his large frame coming up the steps of the bus. You practically vibrated from anxiety in your seat, unshed tears blurring your vision as you stared straight ahead. The black blur of his jacket, the soft squeak of his boots as he moved closer and closer, until he took the seat right behind you.

You didn’t move. Frozen. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Fright.

Fright.

Fright. 

Until the bus moved and the decision was made for you. Only you couldn’t convince your muscles to move, stuck staring dead ahead. Willing the bus driving to glance in the mirror back at you. Willing the other passengers to notice how close the man behind you was sitting (close enough to feel his breath against your ear, close enough to smell the tobacco on his breath). But this was the last bus and everyone was too tired to notice. A herd of diurnal prey vs a nocturnal predator. It was clear who had the advantage.

You missed your stop. And the one after that. It wasn’t until you felt a violent shake on your shoulder that you jolted out of your trance, eyes darting up… to the bus driver. 

“Las’ stop miss. Gotta’ get off.” His voice firm. How long had he been calling out to you?

Giving a jerky nod you looked behind you, but Simon was gone.

___

It didn't stop there. Not that you expected it would, but fucking forgive you for having a little hope in life. Simon took to following a few steps behind you wherever you went. Sitting behind you on the bus. Sitting in the back of the pub, nursing beer after beer. Sometimes he had another man with him. But mostly he was alone. His eyes never left you. For weeks it went on. For weeks you felt his constant presence. 

The presents never stopped either. Photos of you, gifts for you (lingerie and cigarettes, the same shade of nail polish he gave you while you were in prison), things of his. He never relented. You never shook that feeling of being watched. You never could get rid of that pit of anxiety in your stomach. Exhaustion was starting to settle heavy in your bones. Give up. Give in. Give yourself to him. 

The temptation was intense. You just wanted to be done with it all. Let him do what he wanted with you. At this point, even death would be better than another day of constant anxiety. (Pursuit predator exhausting his prey, closing in). 

And then he was gone.

His absence was glaringly obvious on the first day, enough so that you thought for sure that you were going to die soon. Simon had reached some kind of breaking point. But you didn’t. And you didn’t see Simon.

There were no presents left for you. No signs of his stalking. No evidence that he was ever in your life at all. It was such a sudden and stark change that if it weren’t for his dog tag you would have thought you dreamed the whole thing. But he was gone. 

A day passed.

Then another.

And another.

The knot in your stomach slowly unworked itself. The tension ever present in your shoulders finally loosened. Weeks passed by. Then months. A part of you still worried. In prison there were times where Simon would go silent for months, but he always came back. And he always made sure to make up for lost times. More gifts, more phone calls, longer visits. It seemed that your anxiety was slowly chipped away, yet it was also slowly building itself back up again. 

But Simon stayed gone. More importantly, a date had been set for you to become a truly free woman. No parole. No restrictions. A chance to leave the country. A chance to truly be free.

A chance to slip away from Simon.

___

When a police officer knocked on your door, you had to fight back the panic.

You haven’t done anything wrong. 

It wasn’t until you were sitting across from your lawyer did you truly began to realize the situation you were in. His words sounded so far away, so garbled. As if you were trapped underwater, in a fishbowl, letting the world happen around you as you tapped at the glass.

“...Do you understand the situation you’re in?...Enough drugs to get an intent to distribute…a passport…tickets to another country…”

How did you get here?

“Are you listening to me?”

You snapped back to reality, the familiar cold cuffs biting into your wrists.

“Do they have to keep these on me?”

Your lawyer let out a sigh. “Don’t worry about the damn cuffs right now.”

Easy for him to say, he wasn’t the one wearing the damn cuffs.

“They’re distracting.” 

He ignored you. “They have you on video buying a plane ticket out of the country.”

You nodded. He didn’t mention the fact that your parole would’ve been up by then. Nothing wrong. You didn’t do anything wrong.

“They found enough cocaine in your hotel room to get intent to sell. With the plane ticket, and your erratic behavior after you got out of prison, things don’t look good for you.”

“It’s not mine I-” Your voice cracked and you cleared your throat, talking so quietly, trying to hold back tears. “I swear.”

Your lawyer didn’t look convinced. “That defense won’t hold up in court.”

He ran his hands through his hair. “Look, I was able to cut a deal for you. It’s better than prison. They’ll tag you-”

Dog tags flickered in your mind. “Huh?”

“House arrest.”

“Oh.”

“You won’t be able to use a hotel, you’ll have to go back to the original residence you reported when you got out of prison.”

"What?” Alarm bells rang through your sluggish thoughts.

Your lawyer sick of you interrupting him, bulldozed on. “Listen to me. I don’t know why they’re offering this to you, but you won’t get a second chance at this. Confess your crime. They’ll confine you to your house for three years and serve parole in tandem. You’ll only serve a year of parole once you’re out.”

Three years. Three years stuck at Simon’s house. Three years with Simon.

“What happens if I don’t take it.”

“You’ll go back to prison. Given you’ve already been, they'll try for maximum. You could be looking at twenty years, ten if you’re lucky. Life on parole.”

Walk into the tiger’s den or let him continue the chase.

How did you get here?

___

They put the ankle monitor on at Simon’s house, now your house you suppose. A part of you had wanted to tell them to take you back to prison instead. But you knew the reality of your situation. Simon would just do the same thing he did before. Get videos of you, pictures of you, he could still watch you in your cell. He would still visit you. And that’s just what he would do while you were in prison, what would happen when you were released again? You were never going to be able to escape him. At least this way you would be more comfortable.

A gilded cage.

Simon talked to the officers, but he seemed to make even them nervous, as they all but ran out of the house. You watched as they shut the door behind them, alone in a room with Simon for the first time in a long time.

How did you get here?

Simon put his hand on the back of your neck, before gliding it upwards jerking your head back. Your eyes met his, and he was smiling.

“Hello, bird.”

“Simon.”

He shuddered when you called his name.

“Missed you.”

“Don’t know how, you never left me.”

He grinned, boyish and proud of himself, “Never.”

Simon kissed you then, feeling far more familiar than he should’ve for a man you’ve only had sex with once. You turned, hoping to relieve some of the pressure in your neck, Simon’s hand stayed instead wrapping around your throat. He gave an experimental squeeze, making you whimper, before he released you.

“Gonna’ be good’ fer me?” He rasped.

You thought about it for a moment, and he let you, time frozen mid-air. But you had been running for so long. And you were so tired. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Fight or flight. Or,

Surrender.

You had to stand on the tips of your toes to press your lips against his, white flag given. That’s all it took for the dam to break. Simon let out a growl and slammed you into the nearest wall, cradling your head so it didn’t bang against the wall with the force. His body caged you in as he deepened the kiss. You had forgotten just how intense it was to be so close to Simon.

He filled your senses. You breathed him in, you tasted him, you heard his soft grunts against your lips, felt the rough edge of his jeans as he ground himself against you, watched as his blonde eyelashes fluttered open until he was staring at you. Always watching. Even in these moments. 

Simon’s hand gripped your ass, grinding you harder against him, moaning from the friction.

“You owe’ me somethin’ birdie. Made your fiance wait so long. Such a fuckin’ tease.” He growled in your ear before fisting your shirt in two hands, ripping it with ease. Hands squeezing your bare tits so tight you expected to find bruises tomorrow.

Confusion knitted your brows together before he shoved you to your knees and you came face to face with his crotch.

How did you get here?

Your hands shook as you undid the button on his jeans, the zipper loud in between Simon and your panting. He helped you pull his jeans down his thighs, his cock dropping out, hard and angry.

Fuck.

You had forgotten just how big the man was down below. Time distorting the memory enough you had convinced yourself that he was average and you were just desperate that night. You were wrong of course. The man was hung as a fucking horse.

It had been awhile since you gave a blowjob. The steady pay the pub provided, the tips you made, pawning a few of Simon’s gifts and you had earned enough to not necessitate them. Not that it would help in this situation. Simon was big enough that all your previous tricks were rather useless. You weren’t even sure if you could open your mouth wide enough to take him, let alone take him down your throat. Your poor poor throat.

Tentatively, you leaned forward and gave the head a gentle kiss, glancing up and meeting Simon’s eyes. Your gaze left his, feeling suddenly shy despite the situation you were in. Pre dribbled and you used the chance to rub it along his sensitive head with your thumb. You gathered as much spit on your tongue licking the underside of his cock, pushing it all the way up until it pressed against his stomach. He groaned, hand resting on the back of your head. 

With his dick out of the way, you used your other hand to caress his balls before pressing soft kisses to them. You replaced your hand with your mouth, sucking and swirling your tongue, using your hands to work his cock while you gave your attention elsewhere. His balls were much easier to fit in your mouth, but you could only delay the inevitable so long.

You pulled away fully, his cock falling under the weight of itself. The easy part done, now it was time for the hard part. Your gag reflex was not going to be happy. Bracing your hands against his thick thighs, feeling his muscles flex underneath your fingertips, you pressed your lips against the tip of his cock again, parting the seam of your mouth and letting him slowly slip in. Your tongue lying flat as he invaded your mouth.

Inch by overwhelming inch.

Before you had thought he was overwhelming, it was nowhere near as overwhelming as having his dick in your mouth. Gone were the lingering scents of tobacco and liquor. The outside world stripped away until just the man was left. Until only Simon’s musk filled your nose, wrinkling it as you took him a little deeper. Your jaw already ached from how wide you were stretching it.

Tired of your pace, Simon began to use your head as leverage as he pushed you further down, nails pressing crescents into his skin as you forced your body to relax. You quickly moved your hands back to the base of his length, stopping him from pushing you any further. Twisting your wrists to placate him enough to let you keep them there. Sucking to increase the pressure.

Simon moaned, hands going from gripping your head, to resting. Letting you work.

You took a deep breath through your nose as you began to work him in earnest. Swirling your tongue over the head of his cocked you began to bob faster and faster, unable to stop the lewd gurgling noises as the back of him hit your throat. His hands were at your head again, pushing himself further down your throat and back again. Setting his pace.

This wasn’t a blowjob he was fucking your throat. Using you. His dick twitched in his mouth before he pulled out, as you took in huge gulps of breath. Body hunching in on itself. You felt vulnerable like this. Kneeling in front of him, the top half of you completely nude.

You didn’t get much time to collect yourself before you were pulled to your feet, turned so that your back was pressed against his front, hands bracing against the wall. 

Simon kissed your neck, hooking his hands on your pants and jerking them down. They caught on your ankle monitor but he just tore them off, seams ripping. Your underwear was torn with a satisfying rip, before you felt the tip of his bare cock pressing against your hole. He thrusted against your slit, gathering your own slick before he reached a hand down, dragging his dick back before it caught on your hole.

You couldn’t help but whine at the stretch of him, un-prepped. He didn’t stop until his hips met yours, large hands bruising. He paused, leaning his weight onto you, sighing. As if being buried to the hilt in your cunt was the reprieve he had been looking for all his life.

“Missed her’ too. Did she mis’ me?” His voice was hoarse against your ear.

“Huh?”

He removed one hand from your hip bringing it to your clit, brushing one large knuckle against it, causing your knees to buckle. Simon chuckled, easily holding your weight against him.

“Don’ worry, won’ ever leave you for this long again Birdie.”

Simon licked your cheek causing you to try and jerk away from him, before the rough pad of his finger began to circle your clit, your pussy clenching around him almost painfully, grinding his hips into yours as if trying to fuck you deeper somehow. He pulled out before snapping into you. Again and again, hand never leaving your clit.

“Simon! Simon please! Don’t stop!” You couldn’t help but cry, bucking back against him as you felt an orgasm build quickly, faster than one had ever built before.

He growled into your ear. “Ain’t ever gonna run again Bird.”

You nodded your head, trying to do everything in your power to appease him to keep doing what he was doing. To keep thrusting. To keep his hand on your clit. To lick you again. Anything. Everything. You wanted him to consume you wholly.

“Ain’t gonna run no’ more. Ain’t gonna leave the house till everyon’ knows you’re mine.”

His hand left your clit, causing you to whine in protest, cradling your stomach. 

“Say it. Tell the whole fuckin’ world who you belong too.”

“You Simon! YoU! Simon! Simon please…plea-” You were babbling, until finally his hand went back to your clit.

“Don’t forget it.”

You came, cunt desperately clutching his cock, squealing as Simon didn’t even slow his thrusts. He pushed you through one orgasm onto the edge of overstimulation as he finally came with a grunt inside of you. He didn’t pull out, keeping his seed nuzzled safely near your womb.

You slumped against his arms, panting softly as the reality of your situation began to wash over you, naked except for the ankle monitor.

How did you get here?

It didn’t matter, because all roads led to Simon.

Tag list: @Sweetlike-sugarplum, @thatpersonamedrook, @aphinthestars, @misscaller06, @shushyoudontknowme, @youknowits-derea, @succubusvalentine, @sundaescreamcheese

[honeyhotteoks]

₊ ⊹ ⟡ together; alternate version (정윤호 ♡ j.yh)

yunho's been away for tour, only this time, when he comes home you have very different news to share.

style: bullet drabble (alternative sequel to losing time) pairing: non idol!yunho x fem!reader word count: 2.5k tags/warnings: fluff, light angst, all things pregnancy and babies, light smut with breeding kink/preg kink (yunho is v happy she's pregnant essentially lmao) notes: this was fully inspired by an anon in my inbox who asked what would have happened in my short fic together if the news reader had to share was a pregnancy and how would yunho react to that. i don't take fic requests, but i love babyfic and this just turned into a little bullet and drabble fic i thought i would share with everyone.

[masterlist]

at the end of losing time, yunho leaves for tour and it’s a long one. a full two, two and a half months abroad in europe while you’re left at home in a different time zone missing him terribly. 

you find out the truth while he’s away, only a few weeks into tour when you start getting sick. it’s not something you can just spring on him while he’s on tour, it would distract him, it would stress him out, and frankly you just don’t know what to do. what decision to make. 

you know how you feel about yunho, and you knows how he feels about you….  but this type of news always changes everything. 

so you keep it to yourself, and you do your best to make it through. 

only when yunho does return.... you’re showing. it's not a lot, just the beginning stages of a curve at three months, but it's starting to be apparent if you’re wearing fitted clothing and it's not something you would be able to keep from him if he touched you. 

so when he comes home, finally, and texts you, asking if he can send a car to bring you to the studio, you want to say yes so badly but you can’t. 

this isn't a conversation you can have in front of anyone else so you say no. and you’re honestly terrified, so you lie, just a little white lie. you tell him you can't come and that you’re not feeling well, you’ll see him another day soon.

anxiety is fully eating you up and you’re spiraling, and you don’t know it but your texts fully freaked yunho out. he's convinced that you’re going to break up with him and waited until after tour to do it, and he's sick about it.

after dance practice, he sneaks out and comes to your place.

all of a sudden hes there, he’s knocking on your door. 

you thought you had more time, you still don’t know how to tell him, what to say- but he’s there 

and -

You're a mess. Your hair is tangled from running your fingers through it again and again, and you're pretty sure this sweatshirt has a coffee stain on it, but he's here and no matter what you have to face this.

He knocks again, a soft rap on the door, "y/n, please let me in,"

"Just a second," You call back, knotting your hair back into a bun and kicking on your slippers. Your stomach rolls with nervousness, but at least, you think, it's not morning sickness.

When you finally pull open the door your hands are trembling, and Yunho's pained expression doesn't help.

"Hey," You manage.

"Hi," His eyes dart over you, a crease of concern between his brows, "can I come in?"

You move to let him in immediately, stepping back into the apartment, "Sorry, of course,"

When you shut the door tight and flip the lock, silence fills the space, but somewhere within you, you find the strength to turn around and look up at him.

He shifts from foot to foot, clearly off balance at the strange discomfort between you, and finally he sighs, "Whatever it is," he says, "I know we can work it out."

A strike of panic lances up your spine at the thought he might already know what words are sitting like lead on your tongue, but all you can manage is a soft, "What?"

"You're avoiding me," His hands flex and release, "we haven't seen each other in months, and now I'm here, and you haven't even smiled. I don't think you're sick, I think something's wrong."

"Yunho," Your voice cracks, and you can feel tears threatening your eyes already. You wanted to hold it together, but this is already too hard.

He swallows tightly and keeps talking, his own voice laced with nerves, "I know two months was a long time, and I know I haven't been the best boyfriend, I should have called more, made more time for us, but, y/n," he takes a tentative step towards you, "I love you, and I really don't want to give up on us, please, don't,"

Things slot into place at his words and you shake your head, "Who said anything about giving up on us?"

The words hang for a moment, and then he softly exhales, "You're not breaking up with me?"

"No!" Your voice squeaks as you rush to dispel that idea, "No, oh my god, not at all,"

He grins, covering his face with his broad hands and sighing, "Jesus Christ," he sighs, "I was going out of my mind,"

"No," You shake your head again, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to worry you like that."

He drops his hands and you can see the tension leave his tight shoulders, "Thank god," he smiles and steps towards you.

Panic bubbles back up inside you and you raise your hand to stop him, stepping back until your hips bump into the back of the couch, "Wait,"

His expression crumbles, "What's going on?"

You just have to say it.

"Um," Your stomach flips, "I do have some news."

"News," He repeats numbly.

"Yeah," You start to cross your arms over your chest but the realization that it would pull the fabric of the sweatshirt closer to you rockets through your brain and you drop your arms helplessly by your side. You have no idea how to tell him this.

"You can tell me anything," He says softly, reading your panic in a moment, "and you know, there's nothing we can't handle together."

"Yunho," Tears start to gather, making your eyes glassy, "I don't know how to tell you this,"

"I'm here,"

The panicked, terrified, anxious part of your brain scoffs, for now. You look away from him immediately, eyes glued to the floor. If this is how you lose him, then you guess it just wasn’t meant to be.

You take a steadying breath and jump, "I have something to tell you," you knot your fingers together, "and I didn't know how to tell you while you were away. I was afraid of distracting you or trying to figure this out while you weren't, you know, here,"

"Okay," He murmurs, taking a slow step in your direction, "I'm here,"

"A week after you left," You press your eyes closed tight, tears tracking down your cheeks, "I missed my period,"

He's silent. Your stomach churns again, but you keep going, "For a little bit I just thought it was stress, or something funny, I'm not always on schedule, but, then I started getting sick," With your eyes closed and with him so quiet, you can almost pretend you're practicing this speech, one of the many times you talked it through in the shower, lying in bed, pacing laps around your apartment. "I'm so sorry," Your voice cracks, "I'm pregnant," You can't bring yourself to open your eyes. "I know I should have told you," Tears rush forward a little faster now and you take a hitched breath, "and I know you don't want this, but you deserve to know, and I... I don't, Yunho, I don't know what to do, I don't know what I'm s-supposed to do, and," Yunho steps forwards all at once, his hands cupping your cheeks and drawing your face upwards, "Hey, hey," he soothes, voice tender, "look at me," Your eyes finally open, meeting his gaze. You expect to find him terrified, any twenty-something guy with a delicate career would be, but all you find in his eyes is soft comfort. There's no trace of the idol in him, just your lover, your best friend. "It's okay," He wipes away your tears gently, "sweetheart, breathe," "Why aren't you angry?" Tears rush faster, your breath tight. He smiles, "I'm upset you didn't think you could tell me," he dips forwards and presses a kiss to your forehead, "but y/n, I love you, this isn't... baby, this could never be bad news." "W-what?" "The timing's terrible," He admits, "and I also have no idea what we're supposed to do, but I don't care. I love you, we'll figure this out." Of all the reactions you expected from him, this hadn't even crossed your mind. When he leans back from you a little to study your tear stained face again, he smiles, and it feels like everything about your life is about to change. Slowly, you pull his hands away from your face and take a steadying breath, "Yunho," you manage, "you're an idol, and besides, we're twenty-six, we're not even married, we're not, what the hell are we going to do with a baby," He slides his hands over yours and brings them together, lifting them so he can press his lips to the back of your knuckles, "We'll do what people do, we'll make it work." You shake your head, feeling fully unmoored, but he keeps going. "I knew you were it for me on the second date," He says and the world slows to a stop, "the only thing in the world I'm terrified of is losing you, but this? y/n, I'm in love with you. Did you think I haven't imagined what our lives would be like?" "I," You can't find the right words, but you try, "I love you," His smile widens, and he moves quickly, tugging you forwards and wrapping his arms around you properly. He's much taller, and he has to lean over you, but he wraps one arm smoothly around your lower back and your hands settle on his shoulders. He pulls you up in one smooth motion, his free hand slipping under your thighs as you wrap them around his waist to hold you tight against him. He kisses your lips, tender relief in every press of his mouth on yours and he nuzzles your nose with his, "I missed you," he breathes. "I missed you too," You confess, your body finally relaxing and melting into him, weeks and weeks of tension bleeding out of your body, "so much," He hugs you close, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you bury your face into his neck, and then he freezes, "Oh my god," his hand slides over your back, landing on your waist, "you really are pregnant," You know he can feel it, the change in your body when you're pressed flush against him like this, and you nod into his neck. "H-how," His hand pushes under your sweatshirt, searching your skin, "baby, how far?" "Fourteen weeks," He sucks in a breath, dropping you gingerly back to your feet, "I can't believe you didn't tell me," For a split second you think you're finally getting the anger you anticipated, but the giddy expression on his face says otherwise.

"I've missed so much," He snakes a hand under your hoodie, and lays his palm over your slightly distended belly, "I'm... god, I can't believe this," "You're not upset?" You check softly. "No," He shakes his head, and then he tugs gently at your sweatshirt, "No, but, can you take this off, can I see?" You're nervous again, but his easy energy wraps around you like a safety blanket and you nod, swallowing back any fears and pulling off the sweatshirt, leaving you in nothing but your sweat pants, and a tight tank top. His eyes zero in on the bump immediately, and the sliver of skin between your sweats and the hemline of your top. Your hands rest over your belly, a nervous, protective instinct, "I know," He blinks hard, tearing his eyes away from your changing body and up to your face. "What?" You ask, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "You're really pregnant," He says, his voice a little rough, and then he reaches again until his hand slides over the smooth plane of your stomach, tracing the curve, "that's my baby," "Yeah," You breathe softly. 

Tears track down his face and he laughs, reaching for you again, up into his arms and nestled against him. 

From there?

He’s kissing you and he just can’t stop. 

You’re a mess from stress and tears, and hardly feel sexy, but he doesn’t care. He’s missed you, he loves you so much and this news is unexpected and terrifying but he’s so happy he doesn’t care

So holding you in his arms still, he takes you to bed

And you’re apologetic about the mess, your bed stand is covered with water bottles and anti-nausea medication and it hits him all at once how you’ve just been holding it together by a thread 

And he pulls you into the bed - “You’ve been sick, this hasn’t been easy, has it? I could have been there for you, I wish I had been there,” 

But you assure him that you’re mostly on the other side of it, you’re only sick like once in a while now not every second of every day 

And he’s like….. we are talking about that later, but right now how are you feeling? 

And you’re good…. but god, you missed him and now you’re just so relieved

So he begs you to let him take care of you now, he’s home, he can carry that weight if you’ll let him

And teary tender kissing in bed leaves his hands wandering, noticing how much is different, losing his mind over your bump and the new fullness of your breasts

And he’s hard and you’re touch starved 

And then he’s just losing it a little - kissing your body, telling you how much he loves every inch of you, how insane it makes him that he did this to you, how you made something together

And all the tenderness to dirty talk sends your brain into overdrive. 

It’s all just desperate needy, thank god we didn’t break up i can’t believe i got you pregnant sex

Worshipping oral, lots of body kissing and feral groaning from Yunho

His absolute insanity at being inside you like this - and you’re tighter, wetter, and needier than ever, and he’s just feral for it

“You’ll be the prettiest mommy, won’t you?” 

Just heaps of breeding and preg dirty talk

“God, I hope you want a lot of kids,” 

“You look so good like this, I’ll have to knock you up again,” 

“So pretty with my baby inside you,” 

And when you’re done, you fall asleep instantly. you’ve been sleeping so much more all of a sudden, and you suppose your body needs it, but it feels like you’re finally resting for the first time in weeks

When you wake, your apartment is clean, he got take out (but he’s googling best soups for morning sickness and texting Wooyoung cooking questions), and he’s making a list of everything you’ll need. He’s already making a plan of what you’re going to do. 

So even though the tour was terrifying, he’s home, he’s got you. You’re together on this, always.

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha x Female!Reader) pt. 2

a/n: re-uploaded cause tumblr wouldn't show it in the tags for some reason Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con, Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atriedes, Horny Violence, and some angsty family relations (lmao)

Summary: The courting becomes more and more complicated, as both you and the Na-Baron discover something about each other.

Part.1, Part 3. Part 4.(finale)

- He's a beast.

Lady Jessica stops in her tracks, her hands sliding gently across the fabric of your nightgown. It's your Mother, that puts it out on the table next to your bed. But the person, who turns back towards you with an unreadable expression, is most definitely not her. You're talking to a Bene Gesserit sister now. A freezing chill runs up your spine, and you start picking at the skin around your fingernails, a nervous habit you've picked up a long time ago.

- Have you forgotten all that I have taught you? - she asks, turning to face you fully, in the dimly lit space of your bedroom

Subconsciously you retreat into yourself, body leaning further away from her, as if that distance might save you from whatever unpleasant revelation will most likely fall upon you. Lady Jessica takes a deep breath, her lips pulling back into an easy, soothing smile. In the past, you would look for expressions such as this, fish them out for comfort. Now, as you look upon your Mother's face, it all seems to be a trap made specifically for you.

- Men like him, beastly men, are the weakest ones - she explains, taking slow steps towards your hunched form - They need the power and the blood to feel worthy of existing, which makes them easy to manipulate. Keep them pliant under your hands like fresh dough. 

She sits beside you, your mattress dipping under her weight, and your eyes are immediately drawn to your Mother's elegant hands, folded neatly in her lap. You wish you could put your head there. Have her pull your running thoughts out with gentle caresses. A hairbrush lays abandoned on the vanity in front of you, and silently you contemplate, whether you'll ever have the opportunity to have your hair brushed by her. 

- You must find his weakness, what drives him to do what he does. And then control it.

- I don't want to control my husband - the words spill out of your lips, before you have the chance to stop them - I want to love him, to support him. To give him children he'll love, children I'll love. 

Tears fall in heavy waterfalls down your cheeks. You haven't had the luxury of a good cry since your betrothed had arrived, and it feels divine. Letting your body shake and shiver, wrecked by uninhibited sobs, as your Mother looks down upon you, torn between the two roles she must fulfill. 

The more you've thought about your situation, the more hopeless you felt. The Harkonnens will never let you see your family again, you're sure of it. You'll have to deal with all the horrors of Giedi Prime entirely on your own, with no support from your husband, no friends, no family. And your children, as they are sure to come, will be taken away from you. Thrown into the black and white, until there's no love left in them. 

The Emperror is a cruel man, you think. An execution would've been a kinder end. 

- Why did you have to make me a Daughter? - the way your voice breaks in desperation fills you with shame - Why couldn't you give Father another Son?

You know you've overstepped, as soon as the accusatory tone registers in your brain. It is far too late by then, and the hands, which just moments before you've fantasized about running through your hair, grip you tightly. Your Mother's face, a constant image of beauty, twists into something darker, something you don't recognize, and you gasp, as her dull fingernails dig into the skin of your wrist.

- Your Father has Paul - her voice is barely above a whisper, blue eyes stabbing you with the intensity of her gaze - I gave him a son, because he asked for a son. Because I loved him enough to give him one. And he can have him. He can fill him with lessons of male leadership, of short-sighted plans. You. You are my Daughter. You are mine, and I've trained you well enough to conquer this task.

A hopeless pit settles itself in the void of your stomach.

You've always known your destiny would be to marry well, to further House Atreides' legacy. And yet, somehow, there was a sliver of hope, treacherously worming itself into your brain. Your Father had Paul, the perfect heir. Surely, he could send him off for the greater good and leave you to your own devices. Let you find someone to care for you, someone you'd do anything for. The thought sits in the pit of your stomach, turning your insides in shame. Still, you can't shake the sinking feeling, that if the universe was kind, you would've been born a Son. 

Your Mother, or more likely, the Bene Gesserit, stands up, a cold chill filling the space where her body used to sit. She regards you once, a stern, unwavering gaze.

- Wear black tomorrow.

Perhaps, you'll die in your sleep tonight. Perhaps the universe will bring you this small mercy.

*** Perhaps you did die. 

Through the haze of dreams, you can see him. Bare, as the day he was born, body gleaming white in the darkness of your room.

You can't move, can't see his face, and when he approaches, every single one of your muscles tense. You shift under the covers, cold tendrills of fear engulfing you entirely. He comes closer, moves like a wild cat, stands at the foot of your bed. 

The need to run is overwhelming, but your body refuses to listen, as slowly, torturously slowly, he climbs on top of you, defined muscles moving under his skin in a way that reminds you of some cursed demon, rather than a man. His scent fills your nostrils, a mixture of something heady and metalic, and, like a little child scared of the dark, you try to hide your face under the covers. 

This demon version of your betrothed sits down, sculpted thighs squeezing around your sides, and with rising panic you realize, he's slowly choking the life out of you. A fitting end, a welcomed one. Perhaps it would be better to die right now, before you discover what atrocities he plans to commit on your body and mind, after you're wedded. 

Then, his hand reaches behind his back, full lips pull upwards, exposing blackened out teeth. You barely register the glint of his sword, not until he holds it high up, above his hand. You're not allowed a moment to wallow in your confusion, as your future husband brings the weapon down, sinking it with brutal force into your beating heart.

You awake screaming.

***

In the morning, you pull a black tunic over your head, remnants of your dream clinging to you like an unwanted shadow. 

Every move of the silky fabric against your skin feels like a small defeat, and with your head hung low, you make your way towards the dining hall. Truly, you're not hungry, stomach turning and twisting, a steady presence of nerves keeping your body on edge. Your attendance is required however, such are customs, and it is entirely too eaarly for another lecture about your behaviour. 

As you enter the room, your mask of tired indifference slips just for a second, a mixture of fear and anger flickering in, and out of existence.

 There, opposite of your Father you can see him. Your future husband, the love of your miserable, ending life. Slow horror washes over you, as you suddenly realize that this demonic, otherwordly version of him, which visited you in your nightmares is just how he looks. He greets you with a polite inclination of his smooth head, and you consider not showing any outward sign of repulsion, a small victory on your part. Your Mother doesn't think so, but you dodge her sharp eyes in favor of greeting your brother.

It doesn't go unnoticed, the way Feyd Rautha's eyes drink in greedily the sight of you embracing Paul. His gaze lingers on your smile, and he raises his cup to his lips, scrunching his nose ever so slightly at the unfamiliar drink he's been offered. You want to ask, if they have coffee on Giedi Prime, but the question is forcefully swallowed down. You will not talk to this man. He will never know anything more than contempt from you. Curse your Mother's words, you'll fight this battle every day, on your own, if you have to. 

- My Daughter will show you around the training barracks after breakfast - Duke Leto announces, and you freeze with a cup of coffee half-way to your lips.

- Will I? - you ask, trying to control the edge in your voice. 

- Na-Baron has made inquires about a place to train - your Father explains, giving you a meaningful side eye - You'll accompany him. 

The coffee tastes like rot in your mouth, and you place your cup down with a note of finality. You won't look at him, you don't have to. That knowing smirk could be felt through the very particles flowing in the air, every single one laughing at your predicament. 

Despite your best efforts, the breakfast comes to an end, your family slowly rising to attend to their duties. Your Father, ever the cordial man, bids his farewells to the unwelcomed guest. Your Mother does the same, albeit sounding more honest. Paul lingers as long as Lady Jessica allows him, until he is forced to retreat by a slender hand tugging mercilessly on his elbow. A gesture both of you know intimately from your childhoods. 

Before you know it, you're left alone with the pale imitation of a man. He arises slowly from his seat, smoothly making his way towards you, each of his footsteps echoing in the dining room. 

- Shall we, my Lady? 

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his offered hand, like a white spider living just outside of your vision. With a shudder, you slip out of your chair, trying very hard not to touch him, and failing immediately, when his broad chest nearly pushes you back into your seat. 

He smells nice, your brain betrays you, the scent bringing back images from your night terror, causing an involuntary shiver to run up your spine. With averted gaze, you turn to leave, ignoring his still extended hand. He follows you like a shadow, catching up to you in no time, as you slide through the corridors of the Palace. It's uncomfortable, to say the least, walking with him behind your back. His eyes bear into you, a prickly feeling at the base of your neck making you roll your shoulders.

It follows you, as he follows, right to the very destination. All in blessed silence, a small miracle to save this already dreadful morning.

The men, launging about at the training barracks freeze in their spots, and your heart nearly jumps out of your chest, when Duncan Idaho catches your eyes. His skin has a beautiful, warm tone, highlighted by the morning sun flowing into the room through the windows. You nod, he nods back, an unspoken understanding blooming between the two of you. There could be no suspicion of any closer bond, lest this engagement would be called off. A result, perhaps favorable to you personally, but your family would never live down the shame. And you would never jeopardize Paul's future, no matter how hollow yours looked.

- You have a warrior's body - your betrothed comments, as he inspects the blades laid out on a small table - Do you train here as well?

Small talk, you could do small talk. With a sigh, you tear your gaze away from Duncan, and turn to the Harkonnen, forcing something resembling a polite smile to bloom onto your features. 

- Yes, I do - you answer curtly, eyes falling onto elegant, white fingers, sliding over a shiny metal blade. 

- It is not a common practice here, is it? - he looks at you, eyes gliding over your stature - Women being trained to fight?

Suddenly very much aware of your body, you cross your arms on your chest, hugging yourself tightly. You don't miss the way his gaze seems to linger on the low neckline of your tunic, and with bitterness on your tongue you wonder, has this man ever felt ashamed. 

- Not common, but it does happen - your voice betrays your emotions, a sharp edge settling over your tone, causing the man to arch an eyebrow.

Finally, he settles onto a chosen blade, bringing it up to the light and with laser focus observing the way particles dance on the steel surface. Then, he looks back at you, catching you in the act of observing the prominent, lean muscles on his neck. You ignore the knowing smirk and will your blushing cheeks to suddenly become devoid of color.

They don't, of course, and you scurry to the side of the table, to fiddle with the rest of the weaponry. Your favorite training blade is there, and instinctually, your hand reaches for it. 

- Train with me.

The request catches you off guard, and you shoot him a questioning look, one he deflects with a nonchalant shrug. 

Your muscles flinch, as you drag your hand back from the blade. 

- It would hardly be appropriate - you counter, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your tunic.

To that, he tilts his head, light eyes studying you for a longer moment, until you truly feel uncomfortable under such scrutiny. 

- And suddenly you're worried about what the court says? - he cuts you off, before you have the chance to ask, just what exactly does he mean by that - Perhaps you're too soft to fight me.

- I know what you're doing - you point an accusatory finger at his chest, and the man smiles, blackened teeth peaking between his full lips.

- And what am I doing? - it's hard to ignore the teasing timbre in his voice, and you swallow thickly.

- You're trying to get under my skin.

Shivering under the expected cruel glint in his eye, as another, most likely filthy innuendo purses his lips, you turn to him fully, a serious expression on your features.

- I've seen you fight, Na-Baron - his jaw tightens at the sound of your voice curling around his title - I know you're a force to be reckoned with, I'm not scared to admit that.

He straightens, regards you with furrowed brows for a longer second, until, yet again you start to fidget under his gaze.

- Perhaps then, you're scared you'll hurt me - the mere idea is so preposterous, your head snaps in his direction - If I had known, you liked me that much...

- That is entirely not true, and you know it - you deflect again, although annoyance begins to paint your voice.

Then, his hand shoots out, gripping your arm and pulling you closer. Air seems to thicken around you, as you look up at him, with surprise quickly morphing into outrage. His breath mingles with yours, and you can't seem to look away from his eyes, pupils nearly drowned in the overwhelming blue of his irises.

- Stop hiding, my viper. Fight me.

The command, spoken in a harsh whisper just shy of your lips, turns your insides into molasses. 

His taller form leans down to tower over yours, an intense expression settling over his sharp features. Close to excitement, much too close to desire, even closer to a murderous curiosity. Your throat feels entirely too dry, and before you can stop yourself, you swallow thickly, tongue darting out to lick your lips. His eyes snap almost immediately downwards, and your heart stops beating. You can't see anymore blue in his irises, only black. Darkness covers his eyes reflecting his thoughts, and you feel like you have to flee right now, before something terrible happens to you. 

So you do just that. Ripping yourself away from his closeness, you return to the table, hand finding your chosen blade without really looking. 

Another flash of black teeth, as the Na-Baron realizes what you're doing, and the both of you enable the shields surrounding your bodies. 

The gathered soldiers watch on, as you march towards the center of the room, determination filling every step to the brim. Duncan gives you a look, which you choose to ignore. You can't think about him now, not when you have your honor to defend against this Harkonnen monster of a man. 

Feyd Rautha rolls his shoulders, discards the thin fabric of his dress shirt, and once again you are stricken with his almost god-like physique. The blade looks like an extension of his hand, as he weighs it and slashes the air in front of him. Then, he fixes you with a challenging expression, as if he expects you to do the same, to try and best him at some shameless display.

You decide to keep your clothes on, blade held high, ready to strike. 

He jumps from one leg to another, and immediately an orchestra of alarm bells rings out in your brain. Should a man really be this excited at the prospect of fighting his future wife? Should you be this excited? Questions without answers, and before any of you make a move, another one absent-midedly floats to the surface. Just how much can you hurt each other, before the wedding is concluded? How much you'll inevitably hurt each other after?

The darkness he has brought on the ship with him must be contagious, because despite your better judgement, you smile. A sharp smirk, that makes your eyes look less like a human and more like a wild animal. And he drinks it all in, as he begins to circle you.

You'd never show him your back, never again. He's a tried and true predator, the only instinct he has, is a killer one. A fact you quickly get aquatinted with, as he unleashes a series of lightning fast strikes your way. 

Immediately you realize, that small show of cruelty he organized at your grandfather's theatre was nothing, compared to what he could truly do. And still, you suspect he's holding back, as you barely dodge a nasty stab, right under your ribs. Another one is blocked against your sheild, and before you have a chance to collect yourself, third one sends you back a couple of steps. 

He doesn't let you get away, with confident steps pushing you further and further out of the center of the training floor.

Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Duncan Idaho stand up from his place. Thinking back to your last training session, you shudder bitterly. "Never fight in anger" is easy to say, when you're not forced to marry, bed and sunsequently give children to the man you're fighting. 

Panting and sweating, you give Feyd Rautha your all, twirling in place, sliding on your feet. A different kind of choreography, which seems to work surprisingly well, with his almost animalistic force. Gurney taught you how to be powerful, how to land strikes which were as effective, as they were cunning. Duncan, on the other hand, taught you how to dance. So that's what you do.

Finally, you manage to grab at his free hand, locking your feet between his and bringing him closer to your blade. It stops just short of his artery, blocked by his dagger, the clash of metal reverberating through the halls. 

The smirk he gives you is beyond nasty, and forcefully, you push away from him, as if the very idea of skin to skin contact repulsed you. And it does, it truly does, especially now that adrenaline mixed with frustration boils in your head. 

- Again - you snarl his way, assuming your fighting stance.

- As my Lady commands - his voice has a natural growl to it, made even more prominent by the exertion of the fight, and he twists his body into a perversion of a curtsy.

This time you're the one to attack first, ignoring your menthor's words and relying on pure rage to guide your steps. A stab to his thigh, which he deflects with seemingly childish ease. Your tunic slips through his fingers, as you slide under his arm. Out of the corner of your eye you can see his blade, when he hides it into his belt. Confusion hits you suddenly. Was he giving up, why was he hiding his weapon? None of the questions get answered, as a foot curls itself around your ankle.

Your balance leaves you with a gasp of surprise, and soon, your back is on the floor, Feyd Rautha following closely behind. Your heated gaze meets his, as one hand wrenches the blade from your grasp and pins both your arms above your head. The other one supports his weight, as he hovers above you, light bleeding behind him in an unfitting image of a halo. 

Your chest heaves, sweat rolling down your collarbones, and the Harkonnen doesn't even try to hide the way his gaze follows a stray drop of salt, as it disappears between your breasts. 

- You fought well - he complements in a hushed tone, and you writhe desperately under his body.

The night terror rears its ugly head again, as you feel his tighs press onto your sides, almost as if he wants to shape your flesh into the imprint of his body.

- I think I prefer you like this - he whispers, face coming closer to the exposed column of your neck - You belong under me. 

That's what does it. Your face twists into an expression of equal parts disgust, and fury. You won't give him this victory, you'd rather die. Legs tangle themselves around his calves, and you use all your strength fueled by the burning need to fucking hurt him. 

The world spins, two bodies rolling on the floor, and suddenly you're on top of him, legs biting into his hip bones. While one hand supports your weight on his naked shoulder, the other finds the dagger hidden in his belt. The surprised gasp, which leaves his lips feels like music to your ears, and you don't even try to fight the awful smirk splitting your mouth.

The shield on his neck glows an angry red, as you press the tip of the blade down, right under his bobbing Adam's apple. He swallows, for just a second letting you see the mask of self confidence slip. He has quite long eyelashes, you notice, as his eyelids flutter, a low hum reverbating through his chest. Eyes that are neither blue nor completely black drink in the sight of you. The halo of your hair, the snarl on your lips, the curve of your waist, where one of his hands settle. 

Missing all of this, too enraptured by your own fury, you push the blade further down until it pricks his alabaster skin. He hisses through his blackened teeth and you want more, you want him to scream. A thin streak of red begins to flow down his neck, and God help you, it looks like art. 

His grip on your waist tightens, all five fingers digging into your flesh through the thin tunic. Feyd Rautha bares his teeth at you in a cruel smile, one that makes you question whether you're the one in control.

And then his hips roll upwards. 

A barely noticable movement, easily mistaken for a spasm of the muscles, but you know better. You can read it all from his expression, his pupils blown wide, the quickened breaths of air slipping past his lips. From the quickly hardening length pressing against your inner thigh. 

Your stomach flutters with a well known feeling, and that terrifies you more than any pain-motivated erection ever could. Because he sees it, he sees the beginning flames of desire taking root in your center, and the realization looks like ecstasy on his face. Humiliation washes through you, fills you completely. There is no awkward blush on your face, no. All you feel is white, freezing terror, as all your defences seem to crumble all at once.

Like a scared animal, you're off of him in a split-second, and he doesn't chase you, as you all but run from the training barracks. Doesn't have to, he already has everything he needs. 

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem: epilogue (JYH x reader).

part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

SUMMARY:

* 𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐤: 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐲. The first time you met Yunho, you knew he was going to be part of the biggest tragedy of your life: the loss of your freedom, of your free will. You didn't know why back then but what you did figure out is that you and Jeong Yunho were going to, eventually and very publicly, date each other at some point. Is that reason enough to hate his guts? Well, of course! Now, when the time comes to fulfill the prophecy, how the hell are you going to pull it off? And, most importantly, what do you need to do to not fall in love with him in the process?

PAIRING: rich!yunho x afab!rich!reader.

GENRE: enemies to friends to lovers.

WORD COUNT: 7.08k

WARNINGS & TAGS: attempt !!! at comedy, dual pov (both yunho's and reader's), use of fem pronouns for reader, the morning after and the day after that. reader and yunho are very in love is lowkey kind of gross everyone, kissing, fluff, dream-talk, yeosang talk too! a little bit of angst if you squint, decision making and finally standing up for yourself is hard and reader is doing their best, sukwon being a good brother and making reader cry, gyuri being a little shit, wooyoung being a little shit, seonghwa being a good friend, happy endings let's goooo.

NOTES: hi everyone! here's the epilogue i promised! like i've said in a few asks that i've gotten, there's a little bit of the next story here, just something so you all have context of it before going in. i don't know when that one is going to be up (i'm not really far along with it) but either way i want to thank all of you for the patience and the wait! i really loved writing mbc:'). this is 100% self indulgent, as all fics should be, and i think i've re-read it so many times that if you find a typo or something that just doesn't make sense, you can blame it on english not being my first language i guess lmao. i hope you enjoy it and if you do feel free to send to my askbox/reblog/type in any feedback or thoughts! <3

POSTED: february 20th 2025.

taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @0115degrees, @daniela-f-uwu, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @calmoistorm, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @lemonkait00, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay, @xylatox, @honeybeehorizon, @hwallazia, @mady-66.

masterlist - part one - part two. part three. part four.

When Yunho wakes up, rested and naked, the room is dark. 

He turns to the side and the curtains are, of course, down but the thing is that he doesn’t remember closing them the night before. 

When he turns to where you’re supposed to be, the bed is made on your side and you’re not there. 

Strangely enough, he doesn’t panic. He is sure of what you both have, he trusts you enough to know you didn’t run away from him, from you two, again. 

Also, he can smell a mix of coffee and the turpentine-like smell of paint as he gets dressed with his boxers and the slacks he was wearing the night before after picking them up off the floor and going to the bathroom to wash his face. 

He pokes his face out to the living space and there’s a make-shift tarp on the floor, the furniture is moved around to make space for you and an easel. You’re sitting down on a wooden stool, painting away and he wonders if he just missed that last night or if he genuinely just passed out and didn't notice this much change. 

He clears his throat “Good morning, princess.” 

You jump a little, turning your head to look at him and there’s paint on your face and your hand when you wave at him. 

“Hi, Jeong.” 

“Seriously?” 

“What?” 

He chuckles “No cute nickname? Just Jeong?” 

“Well, that is your name, isn’t it?” You turn back and he catches that you’re pretending to focus on your painting, but you’re repassing the same painstrokes as before. 

“We’re going to have to work on it,” he lets out a sigh that turns into a yawn. “Sorry that I slept in on you. What time is it?” 

“Around three.” 

“In the afternoon?!” Yunho looks around for his phone but he locates the clock in the wall first and he confirms your words. “Princess, why didn’t you wake me up? We could’ve spent the day together…” 

“I rather you rest,” you shrug and he takes a few steps until he’s behind you, his hands immediately reaching out to touch you. He can’t help it, he wants to physically fuse into you but he compromises with nature and just massages your shoulders. “You have sectionals in two weeks, right?” 

He frowns at the reminder, a tiny smile on his lips a second later. 

“How do you know that?”

You stop the brush on the canvas and then look at him again, eyelashes batting with fake innocence. 

“I kind of bribed my assistant so she could bribe yours and now your general schedule is on my phone…” 

He fakes a gasp and he marvels in the pout he gets in return. 

“I needed to know when you were leaving the dorm this week!” 

“So you could drop the gift?” 

“Mhm,” you say, puckering your lips to ask for a kiss. He pretends to go for it and he truly pats his back for having a little of self-restraint when he dodges you to pretend he just thought about something. 

“Oh! That reminds me…” 

You huff in annoyance and interrupt whatever he’s about to say. 

“How did you know my room number and who let you in?” 

“I paid the receptionist and showed him proof that we were together,” he explains like it’s nothing and you huff again, amused this time. “Told him I wanted to surprise you.” 

“That’s so irresponsible.” 

Yunho reaches the box he left on the coffee table last night, opens it and pulls the polaroids out. 

“You dropped this off without any explanation! What are these?” 

When he turns around, you’re already painting again and he gets a five second look in his direction before you return your attention to your art. 

“Oh.” there’s a smile on your lips Yunho loves, although he’s not sure if it’s because you’re doing what you love or if you got reminded of something. “I was hoping you asked me about it. I, um, stayed at a resort during New Years, in Gangwondo.”

“Is this the first time we spent Chrismtas and New Years away from each other?” 

“Not the first time,” you muse and then shrug, “but definitely the first time in a long time, huh?” 

“I didn't like it.” 

“Why?” You look at him again and he sits on his knees on the couch like a neglected child, looking your way. You seem to find it endearing, because you laugh. “Because you didn't have anyone to kick under the table this year?” 

“That has never happened.” 

“Liar. Anyway, they have this winter festival that goes all the way until mid January and they have this… Traditional and modern fusion media dance performance that made me think of you. So I took some pictures of the dancers.” 

“So you just put them in the box because you took them while thinking of me?” 

There’s shyness painting your tone when you reply “Yeah.” 

His heart thumps happily inside his chest and he gets off the couch. 

“I love you.” 

You laugh again “I love you too, Yunho,” and, as you shake your head a little, you look in the kitchenette direction with your lips pointed at it. “I ordered some breakfast that you can heat up or you can give me… Twenty minutes and I can change and we can—” 

Yunho revels in the squeak of surprise you let out when he closes the distance, leans in and catches your lips in a short but firm kiss. 

“We can stay in all day if you want to.” He says and you kiss his lips one more time. 

“Okay,” you seem happy to have that option so he sees the moment you make the decision to not push going out at all. “There’s some clothes for you in the walk-in closet. I ordered them when I ordered all of this,” you point at the mess on the tarp and the floor, “I figured you might need them.”

“Thank you, my love.” He whispers and he pecks your lips before reaching for your nearly empty coffee cup. 

“There’s also one for you in the—” 

“I want this one,” he says, a sly smile on his lips and one of his hands returns to your shoulders to massage them. 

He takes a look at the canvas for once and he notices that, what he thought was a solid background color and some structure, has actually started to look like the view in front of you both, with the Namsan Tower in the back. 

“What about the CD?” 

“Hm?”

“Your gift,” he reminds you, “there’s also a CD.” 

“A mixtape, with songs that make me think of us.”

Yunho blows some air and he doesn’t have to look down to see you’re frowning at the sound “You’re a romantic.” 

“Do you want to die?” 

He laughs but doesn’t address the threat at all. Instead, the focus is on your art “The painting of us and the kids is beautiful,” he can feel your skin under his palm heat up at the compliment and it makes him smile. “This one is too.” 

“It all just flows so much smoothly when I don’t have to think about work or being home,” you admit, your body relaxing into his when he takes a sip of the cup and brings it around for you to do the same. “I want to stay here, with you, forever.” 

“And we can,” he murmurs into your head, leaving a kiss on your temple a second later. “If that’s what you want.” 

“I want to move out,” you say, your tone full of wishfulness and Yunho takes in a breath at what that could mean for you, “I want to quit my job.” 

“And what do you want to do for work, then?” He asks, already supporting the decision. “You want to paint?” 

You shake your head, looking up at him, a wishful glint in your eye “I want to be an art teacher.” 

“Oh?” 

“Do you want to work for your father?” 

“Not in a million years, I— Princess, don’t get mad for what I’m about to tell you, okay?”

You turn in the stool, looking up at him with an inquisitorial brow until he crouches down on the floor to meet your eye. 

“My plan has always been to pretend to work and go along with him until I graduate college. Then, I want to move away. I want to… I don’t know, get disowned?” 

Eyes widening, you take in a sharp breath and then cough into your hand. 

He offers you the cup so you can take the final sip out of it. 

“It’s part of why I went along with the PR relationship in the first place.” 

You nod and he gulps, staring as you get lost in thought for a second. 

“Why would I be mad?” 

“Because I sort of planned to use you?” 

“Not really, though. You wanted to use the relationship they threw us into?” 

“Yeah.” 

“That’s understandable, then. I… I understand.” This time, you’re the one gulping and he opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it. “I, um, I’m not sure if I actually can go against my parents wishes and never see my brother again, Yun.” 

He shakes his head. “If you think for a second that Sukwon is going to give a fuck about your parents feelings, you’re wrong. I… Me and Gunho are not as close as I want us to be, you know? But we talk about things.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Sometimes,” his laugh lasts a few seconds only and then he clears his throat. “If there’s something I'm sure of, princess, is that your brother loves you with all his heart. If you want to step away from the family business, from your parents, he… He’ll understand.” 

You nod again. 

“And I’m not saying any of this because I want you to do the same things I want to do but I—” 

You interrupt him “What do you want to do?” 

“Huh?”

“Do you want to work as an engineer?” 

“Yes,” he breathes out and you smile, “but I also want to dance. Have an academy, maybe, but I need money and experience and a name.” 

“You already have a name.” 

“I need to make a name for myself, princess,” he explains and you nod like you already knew, because you probably did. “Get a stage name, maybe.” 

“Ha!” you laugh and he raises his eyebrows, amused by your reaction. “Maybe… Yunho the rakehell? Yunho… Oh! Yunho the bitchl—” 

“Stop that!” 

It seems like that joke is never to die down and he’s glad, he’s glad that he doesn’t take genuine offense in it anymore and he’s glad it makes you laugh in a way he wants to record and play on repeat forever. 

Grabbing his face, your thumbs brush against his cheeks and he can swear he has never felt so at ease until now. This, waking up and going out of the room to find you doing what you love. You, looking at him with some much love, it's hard to believe it took you both so long to leave your pride behind and work it out. 

“You are worth it, Yunho,” you whisper and he knows right away you’re referring to the fight you both had at the office, “and I have no idea how we’re going to make it, but we are. Of that I’m sure, my love. I trust you,” you brush his hair back and off his forehead, “I trust us.” 

He holds your face as well, the pad of his finger passing over the dry paint on your cheek.

“I trust us, too.” 

Before he can react, you’re smooching his lips again and he melts into the encounter, the passion of last night bleeding into his movements once again and painting him red when he gets on his knees and pulls you into his lap in a smooth motion. You yelp and laugh and then you moan into his mouth when his hands find your ass and his fingers dig into it through the jeans you’re wearing. 

Huh. 

You’re wearing jeans. 

They look so natural and good on you that he didn’t even notice it’s the first time he seeing you in jeans. 

“Again?” You ask, already winded and clinging onto him for dear life in a way that makes him laugh. He pulls back and finds you shyly smiling at him but it doesn’t really help your care that he can see right through the act. 

“Can you blame me?” 

“Yes, actually.” 

“Y/N…” 

“It was a joke,” you grab his shoulders to shake him to no avail and then before getting up you lean in to kiss his cheek in a manner so sweet that makes him all giddy, like a fool in love. Maybe because that’s what he is. “Take a shower.” 

“Take it with me.” He says, without thinking about it but one hundred percent meaning it. 

“I already showered.” 

He makes sure to scrunch his nose and make a funny face “Did you really?” 

It’s not really a surprise when you turn around from your painting and swipe your brush across his mouth. 

“I smell amazing and you smell like shit. Go and shower, Jeong.” 

He enjoys ticking you off a bit too much. Either way he laughs, the taste of paint on his tongue when he does and, when he gets up and goes to the bathroom, he hears the soft sound of your giggle and his heart feels full.  

And then you get him back like ten minutes later, by turning off the light in the bathroom and almost giving him a heart attack at the sudden loss of it. He breathes out an exaggerated sigh and, when you turn them back on, he turns around and watches you through the glass divider. 

Unfortunately for you, the glass is frosted from his chest down, but you lean against the marble counter and eye him suggestively nonetheless. He continues with his shower as if this is the most normal scenario ever for the two of you. 

It feels like it, anyway. 

“Can I help you, princess?” 

“Tomorrow I’ll go home,” you start, not a question or a request, but a fact. “I’ll go home and I'm going to sit with them all at dinner and let them hear what I’m going to do from now on. They don’t need to know that I’m going to take classes—” 

“You are?” 

Humming, you nod once and then twice after a second of looking at the floor, determination in your stare when you look up at him again. “I’m going to get a bachelor’s in art education, maybe just art first. It’ll take time but…” You shrug. 

“But you’ll be doing what makes you happy.” He finishes for you. 

“Yeah,” you return softly, “and I'll be detached from my family’s hip eventually.” 

“One will argue,” he says, closing his eyes to avoid shampoo to get into them, “that you’re already pretty independent.” 

“While doing my work and my brother’s work, sure,” you smile, “but not when it comes to living on my own.” 

An idea crosses his mind and colors his cheeks, so he hums “You’ll be lonely.” 

“I already feel that way at home… But I do love the idea of having a space all for myself.” 

He hums again and then wipes the water from his eyes to send you a look. 

“How much do you love it?” 

“Jeong,” you say, laughing when you finally get what he’s suggesting, “we’re not moving in together.” 

He pouts. 

“Yet.” 

He smiles at you again. 

“Besides,” turning around, you let out a tired sigh when you catch the paint on your face and then you open the faucet to clean it off, “then Yeosang would miss you too much and he’ll blame me. I don’t want your friend to hate me.”

“He would never—” 

You don’t let him dismantle your excuses “What is he up to with that documentary, anyway?” 

He closes the shower and reaches for a towel the next second, not even bothering fully covering himself up when he gets out and you send him a look through the mirror, one he can’t decide if it’s in reproach or if it’s charged with something else. Probably both. 

But he plays coy and tries his best to answer your question as he secures the towel around his hips. 

“He’s doing this documentary about dance, he’s been working on it for a while. Obviously I’m the star of it,” he watches you roll your eyes and he bumps your arm with his in retaliation. “But my co-stars are taking all of his attention now. It’s kind of annoying.” 

“And he finds them— your co-stars I mean,” your eyes roll again, “at the club?” 

Yunho barely helps the laugh that spills out of his lips.

“No, um, that’s a completely different story. He keeps saying that he needs to film this one girl for the documentary but we all stopped believing him when he almost got beat up for filming her,” he explains, his hands brushing his wet hair back, “and he went back to do it again anyway.” 

Your hip connects to the countertop again, your back to the mirror “So he’s in love?” 

“I don’t think so. I think he’s… Intrigued.” 

“Is she an exotic dancer or something?” 

“What?” 

“What?” you return, shrugging, “nothing wrong with stripping for a living.”

“I know, that’s not what I meant—” 

“Do you have something against strippers, Yunho?” Your eyes narrow at him. 

“N-no, of course I—”

“Oh, you don’t?”

“Princess…” He breathes out another laugh, a nervous chuckle this time. “Stop teasing me.” 

Your frown slowly breaks into a smile and he shakes his head in disbelief. 

“But you look so cute when you’re flustered!”

He stops messing with his hair to grab your hips and make sure you have nowhere to go, trapped between his body and the cold marble behind you. 

“I’m not cute,” he says, low, almost in a whisper, “and I showered.” 

“Yunho… Are you not hungry at all? You have to eat something.” 

He wants to laugh again but he stops himself, his hands roaming your front and slipping to your legs when he kneels a little “Hm, I’m starving.” 

Gasping when he kisses your middle through your shirt, you push him away with feign distress written all over your expression. 

“Jeong!” 

He gets back up again “What?” 

“Are you going to be this much of a troublemaker when we live together? I have things to do!” 

He stops, his hands holding your hips still and then you gasp again when he tugs and presses you against his body. 

“You said when.” 

You gulp “I know what I said.” 

“You’re making plans for the future and I’m in them.” 

“Well,” you titter with a nervous glint in your eye, but your chin is up the next second, “you know what? Yeah. Yes, I am, because I love—” 

He presses his lips against yours before you finish your sentence and when he pulls away you push on his chest again. 

“Annoying.” You say but you don’t mean it and he laughs, his arms going around you before you melt into his embrace fully. 

“Do you want me to go with you?” 

“Tomorrow?” 

“Mhm.” 

You think about it, he can feel you thinking as he rocks you both from side to side “No,” you finally say, in a whisper and then your next words come out firmer. “No, I need to do this on my own. I would love to see you later tomorrow night, though.” 

“Hm, I have practice and then I promised to help Gyuri move in with Wooyoung but I can tell them that I’m in love and busy.” 

“No, no,” you pull back, smiling a little, “Can I… I mean, I can help.”

He smiles as well “You want to?” 

You nod. 

“She has a bunch of shit but San is moving most of the stuff because, partially, it’s his fault she has to move, so.” 

“Hm, how so?”

“Gyuri and his girlfriend live together, for years now, and now they want to move in with each other so Gyuri is forced to live with the embodiment of mischief while she finds an apartment she can afford.” 

You laugh “I don’t think it bothers her that much.” 

“Why?” He frowns and, at his question, you give him an incredulous look. “Why?” 

“Baby, oh my God.” 

He lets you go and you push him away fully, getting out of the bathroom. 

“Do you know something I don’t?” 

“Figure it out, dummy!” 

He’s truly, genuinely and utterly confused, but the smile on his face hardly goes down as he watches you sit down in front of your painting again, from the bathroom door’s threshold. 

And his heart aches for the pain you’re probably going to endure the next day. 

When you enter the code to your front door, bag in hand, it’s almost lunch time. You didn’t let them know you’ll be returning today but you’re sure the way your suitcase falls at the dining room’s entrance is enough to alert them. Sukwon jumps a little, your mother lets out a scream and your father looks up from his phone slowly, gives you a look, and then looks back down. 

“Oh, great, you’re back. Y/N, next time would you please let me know when you’re showing up so I can schedule your appointments accordingly— Kim Y/N!” 

Your mother's scandalized scream is not what surprises you. What surprises you is the hug Sukwon gets up to give you, a tight squeeze that you smile into and then make a face at when he pulls away. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispers to just you. “Don’t let her tell you otherwise.” 

Nodding, you finally face your mother whose jaw is almost hitting the floor by now. Your father, as usual, is unbothered and tapping his fingers against the glass of the table, impatiently waiting for his food. 

“Why do you mutilate yourself like this? And without notifying your team, nonetheless! We’ll have to… Get you some hair extensions for the shoot that you have—”

“No.”

She pauses, her jaw ticking and her eyebrow raising in warning. A few months ago, the mere thought of upsetting her would’ve sent you into a panic attack. Now, you stand your ground and curve your lips with pride, lift your chin up with courage and hold the handle of your suitcase a little tighter because you need it, because your hands tremble a little. 

“Excuse me?” 

“I said no,” you repeat yourself and your tone gains you your father's attention. “I’m sure the public can survive a haircut, mom. Can you?” 

“Kim Y/N do not talk to me like that!” 

She steps your way and your brother steps a side, giving you a wide eyed look that can only mean a here she goes again and you purse your lips to stop yourself from nervously laughing at it. 

“You cut your hair, you leave for three months and come back all… All chubby,” oh, my god, “and you dare to speak to me that way?!” 

The mention of your weight does send a little panic cruising through you. It has your father huffing from his seat and your brother snapping his head rapidly in your mother’s direction, a frown creasing his eyebrows and you can tell he’s about to say something but you stop him with a shake of your head.

And then you laugh. 

You taste something bitter in your mouth and you can see the exact moment she notices her words are not affecting you the way they usually do. 

“I think it’s time I move out,” you start, with a tiny, sardonic smile on your lips, “and I also think it is also time you think about the way you speak to me, mother. And I think you,” you turn to your father, “need to think about all the times you allowed her to talk to me that way.”

Your dad looks up, raises his eyebrows, hums and then looks back down again. 

“Sure thing.” He says. 

“What is happening right now?” your mother asks, a nervous chuckle coming out of her and after that she moves her hand, dismissing your point and turning to go to her seat again. “You’re talking nonsense. Go upstairs and wash. You’re obviously not having dinner, I hope.” 

She’s always doing it on purpose, bringing you down like that on purpose, but right now? Right now she craves vengeance. You notice it in the way she looks for your reaction when she looks up. 

“I am having dinner. Not here, not with you, not anymore.” 

Your mother sighs, rubs her forehead with her thumb and her index “Kim Y/N, I beg, stop terrorizing me and—” 

“She’s moving in with me.” 

You turn to Sukwon, he gives you a look to signal you to follow his lead. 

“She’s a little bit too grown up and independent to live under your roof still, mom. Dad?” He asks and your father looks up. “Don’t you agree?” 

“Well,” your father cleans his throat, his back hitting the back of his chair as he thinks it over, “she is capable of being on her own. Besides, her room can make a wonderful office for you, dear.” 

“Her room is staying hers because she’s not going anywhere!” Your mom stands up again, voice dark and tone painted over with something you’ve never even heard before. Not coming from her, at least: Fear. “Why do you suddenly want to move out? Is there…” She closes her mouth and then gulps, breathing out a laugh the next second. “Are you running away with someone, Y/N? Is that it? Did you fall in love on your little trip? You’re promised to someone!” 

“Promised? I am not promised because we’re in the twenty-first century, mom!” 

“To Yunho, Y/N! Don’t be stupid and tell your little fling to get lost!”

“Mom…” Sukwon warns but she laughs again, indignant. 

“What? She knows this already. How would the Jeong’s feel if—” 

“I don’t care what they feel!” 

Your voice resonates in the room, it shuts everyone up, it makes your mom take a step back and your father blocks his phone, finally interested in what’s going on. 

“I am with Yunho.” 

Your mother smiles a second too late at what you said and opens her mouth, but you interrupt whatever nonsense she’s about to spew out. 

“I am with him but not because you or his mother planned it. I’m not trying to fullfill your little fucked up fantasy—” 

“Y/N!” She gasps at the cursing but you continue nonetheless. 

“I am with him because I love him. I love him and he loves me and we are together because, against all odds, we ended up bonding and finding comfort and solace in each other. We made the choice, we did,” you insist on it, to let her know that it doesn’t matter if you two being together is exactly what she wanted, the final say is on you and Yunho alone. “I have something you two could never have and that’s companionship and true understanding that’s not rutted in power or in money. He… He made me realize we’re so much more than this.” You move your hands in the space between you and the rest of the room and your father hums a bitter sound in return.

“This,” your father gets up from his seat, hands going in the pockets of his dress pants and eyebrows raised with a sardonic edge to them that pisses you off, “is your family.”

“I know and that makes it worse,” you nod and the slow anger showing in his expressions grows just a tad bit more, so you go on before anyone else can interrupt you again. “Here’s what’s going to happen from now on, dad; If you want me to, I’ll keep working at the company, but Sukwon's responsibilities are solely his from now on,”  you turn to your brother and he gives a fake pout but then he nods. “My job is simple, my job should allow me to focus on what I really want and, once I get what I really want, I'll make sure to find someone who can fit my spot so seemingly you won't even notice I'm gone.”

“I thought that what you wanted was to work for this company, Y/N.” Your father says.

“I thought so too,” you murmur back to him before shrugging, “but now I’m not so sure.” 

A bit of pregnant silence passes. The air feels thick now that you told them your terms, your plan or what you allowed them to hear of it anyways. Like you told your boyfriend, there’s no need for them to know that you want to take classes or teach. 

You’ll just do it. No need for their approval.  

But your mother still grasps at the control she had on you three months ago. She holds on to it, desperately and, if you were someone else and the situation was any different, you would probably admire the strength it takes to stay this egotistical and delusional until the end. 

She doesn’t seem to understand that her only daughter is running away from her. You’re not sure she cares, either and it hurts because, deep down, you expected to walk off with redemption on her side. 

Sometimes, there’s no redemption at all from the people who hurt you. 

And that’s also okay. 

“Are you done?” She asks, looking around. “Are you all done with this nonsense?” 

Taking in a breath, you try to tell her that what you said it’s what’s going to happen but she is not having it. 

“No,” her finger is up and you raise your eyebrow at it, which gains you a raise on hers in return. “No. You’re not looking for a replacement and no you’re not moving out. That’s insane, Kim Y/N, that’s—” 

“What’s my favorite color?” You interrupt to ask her and she stops, opening and closing her mouth while searching for an answer. “What’s my favorite sweet?” 

“You don’t have one.” 

“I do, I actually have two. What’s my favorite book? Movie? Song?” You turn to your dad this time. “What’s my favorite marketing strategy? Do you even know that one?” 

Silence. 

“You don’t know me enough to want to keep me here. I understand why you might think you do, but you don’t. Because, guess what? I’m an adult.”

Your mother opens her mouth and closes it again when you shake your head. 

And although you’re not speaking to her anymore, you keep looking at your mother straight in the eye and you’re able to catch the exact moment she realizes she lost. 

She lost. 

“I’m an adult with a paying job and savings you didn’t need to know anything about. So you either take it or leave it. Dad?” 

“You want me to decide now?” 

You let out a bitter laugh “You can do whatever you want. Just know that I’m not settling for anything else but what I told you. I can either train someone or you can fire me and I can look for a new job,” you explain, “but either way I’m out of here.” 

Your mother sighs and then mutters under her breath, but you catch it “What is everyone going to say?” 

“I don’t care,” you tell her again and at the response she looks up, startled, like she didn’t expect you to keep going. “Now, I hope you have a lovely lunchr.”

You’re positively shaking when you step into the hallway and through the front door again, with your suitcase in your hand still and no actual plan on where you want to go. Maybe back to the hotel?

Mind reeling, it finally registers the fact that your mother turned to your father and pleaded him to do something for the sake of the family's image just before you stepped foot outside of the house. It was a screech of don't let her go, do something! laced with clear selfish concern. 

You feel panic rising, closing your throat up and you feel lost, lost in what you just did, lost in what it actually means for you. 

“Hey, hey.” Sukwon catches up to you quickly, his keys in his hands, his breath jagged like he escaped your mother’s claws because that’s probably what happened. “Sell out! You needed to signal me when you wanted to leave, dumbass!” 

His eyes linger on your trembling hands when he takes the suitcase from you and you do your best to steady them. 

“You didn’t have anything to eat.” 

“I know. Where are you going?” 

“To… I don’t really know. Yunho’s dorm?” 

Sukwon laughs. 

“You have a house, you know.”

“I think I’m very much homeless right now. I’m getting trapped and probably thrown in a cell if I go back inside.” You swallow tightly as the realization washes over you. “She’s so mad.” 

“My house,” he clarifies, rolling his eyes. “I told them you’re moving in with me, didn’t I?” 

“Sukwon…” 

“I meant it,” there’s something soft in his eyes before he turns to open the main gate so you can both walk up to his car. “You can stay with me. Like you said, you’re grown and I won't have to look after you anymore.” 

“Pfft,” that brings out a genuine laugh out of you, “anymore.” 

“I remember running behind you in the garden because you couldn't keep still the second you learned how to walk!” 

You look at him with a pout as he opens the trunk, throwing your bag in it without any care in the world. 

Like an older brother would. 

If your eyes turn watery, you make sure to swallow back the emotion before he can figure out why. 

“Can I have my own room?” 

“You have a room there already,” he admits, shrugging. “I mean, I thought about you when buying the apartment. Guhno usually stays there but I’m sure he can take the couch when he comes over and— Aw, Y/N!” 

By the time he closes the trunk, you’re already crying. A little, enough for him to notice it. 

“I don’t want to hear it. Open the door.” 

“I’m so telling Yunho you cried!” 

“Leave him out of it!” You push his shoulder, quickly getting into the car when he unblocks the doors and he does the same. “He’s staying over whenever he wants, by the way.” 

Sukwon laughs, his eyes wide when he turns to you “Not a chance in hell, Kim Y/N.”

“Okay, then your boyfriend is not staying over either!” 

“I don’t have a boyfriend!” 

You muse, trying not to laugh “I’m telling Gunho oppa you’re denying your love to my face.”

Your brother lets out a sigh and then you squeak when he pulls your hair, playfully, before looking at you with the most sincere stare Kim Sukwon has probably given anyone ever. 

“I’m really proud of you, kid.” 

Pouting again, you look away and through the window as he pulls out of the curb and into the streets, the house you grew up in quickly fading into the background and your heart thumping hard against your ribs. 

“Are you crying again?” 

“Ugh,” you turn to him, tears running down your cheeks and a smile pulling at your lips, “you’re so annoying.” 

Your clothes are now in your room at Sukwon’s (and yours) apartment, in the walk-in closet. Your brother's taste is nothing short of luxurious and obnoxious and the room is decorated in a way you would never think of decorating it but he swears he has someone who can fix it for me if he wants to.

He forgets that you already know Seonghwa but it's okay, because when you show up at Gyuri’s old apartment, you make sure to find him to tell him just that. 

“I've literally told him that we both know Yunho and each other. Wasn't he the one who gave you my number?” Seonghwa asks, mouth hanging open a bit in surprise. 

“He did, yes.” 

Seonghwa huffs in amusement and you shrug a little “Well, do you want me to work in your room?” He asks after a few seconds and you smile, considering. 

“I think I’m going to do it myself, Hwa.” 

At the nickname, his smile widens and he nods. You think he’s about to say something else, however your attention drifts from your newfound friend and your eyes search for Yunho in the middle of the room, on the floor, as he takes a piece of furniture apart. 

He’s wearing a dark grey crewneck that makes him look so deliciously good you can’t barely help your staring. There’s not one ounce of shame on your body and you’re sure it shows on your face because Seonghwa laughs besides you. 

“So I didn’t paint over the tree,” he says and you frown, turning to him, “but I take you reconsidered my point anyway?” 

“Oh, shut up.” 

“It’s not going to happen,” the mockery in his tone while he tries to make an impression of you doesn’t offend you because you can see the intention behind it and it makes you laugh, roll your eyes and close your arms over your chest, like a child who just got caught. “It’s not going to happen, my ass. Look at you!” 

“So I was wrong, who cares?” 

“I do, I love being right.” 

“He does,” Wooyoung comes into view from the kitchen, a drop of sweet doing his temple and into his cheek that Seonghwa wipes away like it’s nothing. “But I can say I called it first, remember? I’m never wrong.”

“You most certainly are,” Hwa says and you laugh at the expression Wooyoung makes to his friend, offended. Seonghwa turns to you. “He’s wrong most of the time.” 

“Okay, that’s it, you’re helping me with the weird spice rack she insists on taking.” Wooyoung takes his elder arm and pulls, making you laugh and Seonghwa gasps. 

“You’ve been working on that all afternoon!”

“She installed it herself so it’s all wonky, Hwa.” 

Gyuri screams from behind a pile of clothes. You can't even see her even though you know she's standing up. “It is not wonky, Jung Wooyoung!” 

Pursing your lips so you don't laugh at her predicament, you watch as Wooyoung silently communicates to Seonghwa that the space rack is, in fact, wonky and then you jump a little when arms close around you from behind. 

“Stop complaining, Woo, you're going to have the pleasure to install it however you want later.” Yunho's voice is close to your ear and you hug the arms that hold you, melting into the embrace. 

Gyuri laughs sharply when she registers what he said and Wooyoung makes a face at your boyfriend “I hate it here.” 

“Sure you do, Wooyoung.” You nod at him, joking even though you don’t know him that well, and Seonghwa joins the tiny laugh you let out at the face Wooyoung gives you. 

“I truly did not need a new addition to the group if I was going to get bullied by them as well.” 

You fake offense, laughing a second later and Yunho swats a hand on his friend’s shoulder as he passes by you both and into the kitchen again. Seonghwa rolls his eyes before following Wooyoung into the kitchen as well. 

Yunho breathes out, his lips finding your cheek “How are you feeling?” 

Turning to him, you smile a little. You know he’s asking about what went a little earlier today. 

“I’m good, baby,” you whisper back, leaning in a little and kissing him tenderly on the lips. He reciprocates but when you pull away you can see the concern in his eyes. “I promise. I already knew how she was going to react.” 

“Me too but that doesn’t make it any less fucked up, Princess.” 

“I know,” letting out a sigh, you turn to the living room again and the corners of your lips lift at the mess. “But I’m out of the house and I’m alright now.” 

“My mom texted me to congratulate us.” 

“Oh?” You don’t turn to him again but your eyebrows raise in surprise. “Did you answer?” 

“No,” he breathes out a laugh, “but I should.”

“We can’t run from them forever, Yun,” you feel him nod against you and, finally, you turn around completely to face him. His hands find your waist, his lips curve as he watches you over and you do the same. “Also, you’re banned from my house.” 

His smile drops. 

“Huh?” 

“Sukwon doesn’t want you sleeping over.” 

“What did I do?” 

You hear someone laughing behind you and Gyuri comes into view a second later “You’re the official boyfriend now, Yunho, you lost your sleeping over privileges.” 

“I never had them to begin with!” 

“Well—” The sound of glass breaking stops her in her tracks and she goes a little pale at what it means. “Call the police, I’m committing a murder and then turning myself in.” 

And then she disappears into the kitchen as well. Faintly, you can hear Seonghwa laughing. You hold onto Yunho, fingers threading softly into the strands of hair on his neck. 

“They’re not helping us when we move in together.” 

Yunho laughs. 

“When we move in together we’re going to hire professionals.” 

“Exactly.” 

“And Seonghwa can do the interior design of the main part of the house but we can handle our room and studios by ourselves.” 

“Mhm.” 

There’s that slight glint of concern that crosses his expression again when you take in a deep breath, but you shake your head so he can let go of it. 

“We’ll be okay, Yun. We are okay.” 

You watch him swallow tightly but then he nods. There’s a lot you both should be concerned about right now but, as you hear Wooyoung scream from the kitchen and a loud smack against the wall nearest to you, you both silently decide to be in the moment. 

It doesn’t really matter what hardships you go through, as long as you’re together. 

“Against all odds,” you insist, “we’ll be alright.” 

I love them and I'm so sad to let them go but hey! that's life! If you read all the way down hear, thank you so, so much. Don't be afraid to go into my askbox to make comments, suggestions, etc! I will take everything into account for my other stories. Thank you!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[roosterr]

i've known war

john 'soap' mactavish x gn!reader wc: 9.3k (whoops) summary: you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. warnings: established relationship, angst and sadness and depression, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, graphic description of injury, mentions of torture, eventual happy ending, military and medical inaccuracies, pls ignore any plot holes i beg

requested here! follow up to love you from afar, but can be read as a standalone. im so sorry this took me so long to write lmao.

it always feels like the first time when you kiss him. even now, years down the line, the sparks, the warmth, the daze that you leave him in; he truly believes it will never get old.

the way you look, standing in the open doorway of the helicopter, silhouetted against the bright blue sky, it makes his head feel so fuzzy he almost forgets why you're all here in the first place.

it's the sweet sound of his name passing your lips that pulls him back to the present, your voice sending his stomach fluttering.

"earth to johnny," you chuckle, turning to face him and resting your weight against one side of the open door, "what're you thinking so hard about?"

he can't help the smile that breaks out at the sound of your laughter. "just you." johnny replies, closing the small distance between you and snaking an arm around your waist. you smile as he leans in closer, murmuring low in your ear, "and, how i cannae wait to get ye home."

you laugh again, placing a hand on his chest but not quite pushing him back. "we've got a job to do first."

he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your knuckles. "then we'd better get a move on, eh?"

"i'll race you," you grin at him, haloed by the light of the sun so beautifully he has to snap himself out of his reverence to respond.

"oh, you're on." 

perhaps it was slightly irresponsible the way he was rushing the others along for his own gain, but within a matter of minutes they're breaching the facility and well on their way to being done with this.

it's only when he's stalking along a dimly lit corridor that he slows down. something was bothering him, an off feeling in the back of his mind that he just can't ignore.

before he can think about it any further, a boom shakes the walls, filling the air with dust and obscuring his vision even more. it was close enough to start a faint ringing in his ears, coming from back the way he came; where he'd split up with ghost and, more importantly, you.

he should stay on target, continue with what they're here to do, his job – but what if you were in trouble? if there's a chance you need his help, he couldn't risk it. it takes less than a second for him to turn back, making the decision to check on what caused the explosion before continuing.

quietly stalking back down the corridor, it takes him slightly longer to register the fact that he hasn't heard anything over the radio; no updates, no clever remarks from ghost, nothing. they worked not fifteen minutes ago, just after you'd split up and checked them. surely nothing could've happened in such a short space of time?

he does his best to push through the sinking feeling that tries to drag him down, but it's stubborn, creeping in from the corners of his mind.

he reaches where he left you in half the time it took him to walk away, the intersection of two corridors just as empty as the rest of the halls. he points his flashlight in the direction you went, and the feeling in his gut gets worse.

something glinting in the light catches his attention. the end of the corridor is collapsed, when it definitely hadn't been before, but it's what lies in front of the rubble that he zeroes in on. partially obscured by the layer of filth and blood coating it, there's no mistaking it when he kneels down, dropping his rifle to the ground beside him, and carefully takes the metal in his trembling hand.

it's a pair of id tags.

he numbly calls your name. it bounces off the walls and echoes back to him. the blood runs through the creases of his hand, staining the flesh. the letters of your name are clear through the dirt.

no. you can't be gone.

he looks up to the rubble, shrouded in darkness, back down to your tags, back up to the rubble, and there's a hand just visible under the concrete that looks sickeningly like yours and–

he tears his gaze away, back down to your tags. the chain is snapped, like it had been ripped off in a hurry, as if you'd known you were going to die and wanted to make sure he would find them–

no, no no. you're not dead. you can't be. he just saw you fifteen minutes ago, he bumped his helmet against yours in lieu of a kiss like he always did before you parted ways. you were fine and you were smiling at him. it was only fifteen minutes, you were right here, he can still hear your voice taunting him about the race between you, it was only fifteen minutes–

a heavy hand comes down on johnny's shoulder, startling him out of his panicked daze and instinctively he jumps up and swings his arm at whoever stuck up on him.

ghost catches his forearm easily, his eyes moving between your tags clutched in johnny's fist to the wreckage behind him. when he meets johnny's watery eyes again, the coldness in his gaze seems to soften as he arrives at the same conclusion.

the ringing in johnny's ears hasn't left. in fact, it's gotten worse.

"we– we gotta find 'em," johnny's breath comes out shallow and ragged, the panic slowly rising in his chest through the initial numbness. "fucks sake, they cannae– we– we–"

"johnny." ghost interrupts his sputtering short, bracing both hands on his biceps and giving him a gentle, grounding shake. "...come on."

"no! simon we–" his breath catches in his throat, heart constricting painfully beneath his sternum as he grips the front of ghost's vest in desperation. why was ghost giving up so easily? didn't he care? didn't he want to find you?

ghost lowers his gaze, tearing away from the distraught expression on the sergeant's face. "they're gone, soap."

"shut the fuck up!" johnny growls, despair seeping into his voice with every second that passes without you. he tries to shake ghost's hands off, but he doesn't budge. "ye dinnae ken that! they're still here somewhere, we cannae leave without 'em!"

he's gripping your tags like a lifeline, the metal searing against his palm and heavier than anything else he'd ever carried. he shouldn't have them, they shouldn't be in his hand, they should be around your neck, you should be here, with him, and not…

it's too much. his knees give out from under him and, despite ghost's firm grip on his shoulders, he sinks to the floor with his head in his hands.

"simon, fuck– please…" it's a whisper, under his breath, but he knows ghost heard from how he crouches down beside him, laying an arm over his heaving shoulders as he steadily begins to sob.

it's not real. it can't be real. he wants this to be a nightmare so fucking badly, but the pain in his chest is far too real, his tears burning tracks down his face, the weight of your absence pressing down on him and crushing him under the pressure.

he barely notices when price and gaz appear in the hall ahead of them, just about registering the sound of the debris crunching under their boots as they approach. the pair don't say anything as they take in the scene, looking down with furrowed brows at where johnny and ghost are crouched on the floor.

the captain opens his mouth to ask, but ghost cuts him of with a solemn shake of his head.

words are exchanged, but johnny doesn't hear them. his head feels impossibly light, an expanding pressure beneath his temples that makes it hard to think. the ringing keeps getting worse.

the sound of gunfire makes it through the fog. gaz and ghost each take one of his arms, hauling him to his feet and essentially dragging him after the captain as they make their way back out of the building. he can't bring himself to fight them. he blinks, and finds himself strapped into his seat, the one next to him hauntingly empty.

price is talking into the radio, to laswell he assumes, but johnny doesn't register anything he says – anything except the last two words:

"...one k.i.a."

the air is thick with a kind of tension he's never felt before, a shroud of numbness that he can't seem to shake. when they land it follows them, seeping into the air on base and pushing down on whoever crosses their path. none of them have to ask to understand what happened.

johnny keeps your tags, clutches them close to his heart, and practically bites the head off of anyone who tries to take them from his white-knuckled grip, even as he gets checked out in the medical wing. his quietness puts the medics on edge, he can tell. something about the way he doesn't even flinch when they cleanse his wounds, the polar opposite to his his usual talkative nature, it tells them there's no use trying to console him. they try to convince him to let the tags go, but he doesn't acknowledge their words.

the broken chain stays firmly wrapped around his palm until he's staring down his own hollow face in the bathroom mirror. he'd turned the sink on fifteen minutes ago to wash the blood away, the water so hot it fogs up his reflection, but he can't bring himself to put his hands under the stream.

because it's your blood, not just the usual grime from missions. if he washes it off, he's washing you off, and he doesn't want to do that, no matter how disgusting it is.

there's a knock at the door, and only then does he realise how long he's been staring at the red that decorates his hands. he still makes no effort to move. 

despite his lack of response, gaz opens the door and meets his eyes in the mirror. there's a pause as he waits for johnny to say something, but when he only lets the silence go on, he takes it upon himself to approach.

"soap…" he utters, brows tilting in concern watching his friend continue to stare absently into the mirror. with a deep sigh, kyle takes his empty fist and pries his fingers from his palm. johnny's eyes gravitate to the fresh blood that wells up in the crescent indents. watching the red droplets fall, disappearing into the running water, the pain finally registering in his mind when kyle presses a cloth to his hand.

the sting of the hot water is there, a distant feeling as johnny allows him to wash the blood away, never saying a word as he watches kyle's efforts, like an observer of his own form, right there but looking in from the outside.

kyle reaches for your tags, but his fingers barely brush the metal before johnny is shoving him back with a rush of anger that happens so fast he doesn't even have time to process his own reaction.

with a thud, kyle's back hits the wall and for a moment neither of them dare move. they watch each other in silence, wide-eyed shock mirrored in both their expressions.

"i…" i'm sorry. the words catch in his chest, falling into the void there and never escaping for gaz to hear. he can't let him touch your tags. it's the only part of you he has left. "...don't touch 'em."

kyle squeezes his eyes shut, breathing a deep sigh through his nose. "alright, i'm sorry, i won't touch them." his tone is low and careful as he steps closer again, hands open so johnny can see them. he feels like a feral animal, being coaxed to let kyle approach. "but you need to rest, mate."

the weeks blend together after that day. some days johnny feels like the shock will never wear off, like he's living on autopilot. others, it all comes crashing down on him and even dragging himself out of bed becomes a challenge.

his dreams are plagued with images of you, lifeless and cold. it stops him from sleeping most nights, but others are filled with memories of your life together playing on loop, a constant reminder of what he can never have again.

the room you used to share is always filled with flowers; gardenias, gladioli, forget-me-nots, and anything else he sees that he thinks you'd like. when they wilt, and eventually die, he presses the petals in the pages of his sketchbook, keeping them in a box next to the very first flowers he ever got you, the memories preserved forever under your – his bed.

that same sketchbook that's filled with page after page of your image, some from the multitude of pictures he keeps of you, and when he inevitably runs out of references, he draws you from memory. it gets to the point where he can't pick up a pencil without your face haunting him; you always did love his art, even if he didn't think it was any good.

he knows he's not the only one taking it hard. the others are different too; gaz is quieter, something more serious in his eyes now. the captain doesn't appear moved on the surface, and neither does ghost, but when they look at the empty seat where you used to sit, the memory of you is evident in the way their shoulders deflate ever so slightly.

once word spreads about what exactly happened, the never-ending condolences and pitying looks from the people around base gets old very quickly. they tell him how they're so sorry for his loss and what happened to you was so tragic, and it shouldn't annoy him as much as it does, but he can't help the anger that bubbles up in his chest when they talk about you.

he doesn't want to hear it, and every time he has to listen to their pitying comments it only makes him resent them more. they didn't know you, they didn’t care, they probably didn't even know who you were before you died. they could never hope to understand what you meant to him, to the taskforce, the gap in their team that you left behind.

it's when someone suggests moving on from you that it all finally bubbles over.

six months later, a long time since that day but somehow no time at all. he'd gone out for drinks for the first time in a while, after some gentle coercion from simon, along with another group of soldiers staying on base.

he didn't even want to go, not really, but something in him knew he couldn't carry on like he had been. he needed some form of normalcy, one night where he can pretend everything is fine and you're just waiting for him back home, to just forget.

it didn't take him long to realise going out with them was a mistake. almost immediately he was dragged into a conversation with a few guys from another unit, and despite his many attempts they just wouldn't leave him be.

somehow, after about an hour of mindless chatter, they land on the topic of their love lives and recent conquests, and johnny immediately felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. he wanted to slip away, avoid what he knew was coming at any cost, but he couldn't get away fast enough.

one of them brings up your name, they all look to him with a sort of curiosity that makes his skin crawl. they ask him if he's planning on staying hung up on you forever. johnny says it's only been six months. one of them laughs and tells him it's just sad, and from the looks of it you weren't anything special.

johnny smashes a glass over his head. price benches him for a few weeks after that.

it's hell, being left behind, alone, while the others went on like usual, and truthfully he starts to resent them all, bit by bit from the first time he's left on the tarmac. it felt like they didn't care, that johnny's heart, his life, his soul has changed but they carried on without looking back once. he isolates and shuts them out in a fit of misplaced anger, building the walls around his heart higher and higher and letting that resentment fester.

the day of your funeral brings it all crashing down. after all those months of waiting, johnny didn't even make it more than five lines into the speech he'd prepared before he's breaking down and stumbling out the side door in a hyperventilating mess. simon follows behind like his shadow, sitting down with him when he slides down the wall with a hand clutching his chest. he cries into simon's shoulder for rest of the service, releasing all the pent up anguish he'd been trying to keep inside in a catharsis he didn't realise he needed. 

when they get back to base the next morning, johnny’s practically begging to be allowed back in the field. he found himself missing the chaos, the unpredictability of the battlefield was where he was in his element. this job was how you met, how you got together, how you lived. he never felt closer to you than when he was out in the field with adrenaline pumping through his veins.

it takes some convincing, but price gives in and everything feels like it's back to normal. missions are quieter than they'd ever been, but johnny finds it doesn't bother him anymore. he feels your presence by his side like the sun on his back, always with him, like his guardian angel.

it's six more months before anything changes.

in the back of the helicopter, a few minutes out from the landing site, an oddly comforting sense of déjà vu washes over him. the bright blue expanse of the sky, the warmth of the sun on his skin, he almost feels that if he turned to his left, he'd see you sitting there with that same smile lighting up your face.

his fingers tighten around your tags.

"you watchin', bonnie?" he presses his lips to the cool metal, feeling your name under his skin as he mumbles to himself. his gaze finds the roof of the helicopter, and even without looking he knows the others are watching him, that familiar solemn look on their faces.

they were doing this for you. everything johnny did was for you. he puts your tags safely away in the pocket if his vest closest to his heart.

the helicopter jolts as it lands, and with no more than a second's hesitation he's shooting up from his seat, a renewed energy flooding his body to the tips of his fingers. they step out into the biting air, a chill than not even the afternoon sun could stave off, and quickly begin their march into the small facility.

"you two, take that side. gaz, with me." price commands, and with a sharp nod from the three of them, they split up and begin their canvassing. they were here for intel, but there was no guarantee they were alone, despite the emptiness of the halls they move through.

their footsteps echo off the walls, only the distant howling of the wind outside to accompany them. the hairs on the back of johnny's neck were on end, an unease setting off alarm bells in the back of his mind following behind ghost.

the déjà vu from earlier isn't comforting anymore. he doesn't feel you watching over him, and the feeling only gets stronger as they approach a doorway ahead, bathed in a red light.

ghost pauses in the entrance, looking back at johnny and waiting for his affirming nod before pushing forward. the room is empty, the same as the rest of the building, save for the table sitting against the far wall.

there's something else there, he notices as he creeps closer to get a better look. a frown darkens his expression. it's a laptop, untouched and central on the table, a strange contrast to the almost methodical emptiness around it.

"oi, check this." johnny calls, turning around as ghost stalks over with a similar confusion on his face.

"that what we're here for?" he asks, examining the laptop with a deep frown casting shadow over his eyes.

"looks like it." johnny replies, slowly and carefully picking it up as his frown deepens. he was half expecting it to somehow blow up, but when he lifts the screen it lights up to the desktop with no issue. "that's convenient."

"very convenient..." ghost grunts, jerking his head in the direction of the door and speaking into the radio as he walks ahead of johnny. "price, we've got it. headin' to exfil now."

back on base a few hours later, the four of them with the addition of laswell sit around the table in a meeting room with the doors firmly shut, eyes locked onto the laptop with rapt tension as gaz opens the only file they could recover from the device.

the video starts abruptly with 'the mask' – the pretentious alias of man that heads the organisation they've been steadily eliminating all this time – in front of the camera, the dingy room behind him barely lit, the walls splattered with what johnny could only assume was blood.

"i trust that my message has found you well, task force one-four-one." his voice comes through the speakers, crackly and distorted by the low quality recording. "you have been relentless in your pursuit of us, and i applaud you for your efforts, but it's time to put an end to this."

johnny looks back at price, watching as his expression hardens and his fingers dig into his arms where they're crossed over his chest. it's obvious they've been set up, but it's too late to be concerned with that now. the problem now is how they're going to continue knowing the enemy has information on them that they shouldn't have.

the sound of something being dragged brings his attention back to the video, facing the screen again to see another masked man dumping a person with a bag over their head onto a chair in the centre of the room.

"i have something i believe you will be interested in." the chuckle is audible in his voice even beneath the mask and through the screen.

their wrists and ankles are tied together, and if it weren't for the laboured rise and fall of their chest, johnny wouldn't be sure if they were even alive.

"fuck– a hostage?" price spits, and even without looking he knows laswell is already working on finding a location, if the sound of her rapidly typing is any indication.

"something very… precious to you."

the figure moves to stand behind the person in the chair and yanks the bag from their head. he grabs their jaw and forces them to look up, a sickening laugh meeting johnny's ears as they make eye contact with the camera. 

it's…

it's you.

you're beaten and bruised and covered head to toe in blood, but it's undoubtedly you when the faceless man yanks your head up.

johnny's sure his heart stops.

you're alive. you've been alive all this time. in the hands of a terrorist, and within an inch of your life, but…

you're alive.

"drop your investigation of us, and i will let them live." the masked man stalks back around to your side, still holding your jaw in a vice grip. the way you cower, as much as you can with that man's filthy hands on you, it breaks something in johnny. how long have you been in their hands, how long have you been abused by them?

how long have you been waiting for him?

he feels sick to his stomach, but he can't tear his eyes away. the lacerations on your face, the endless bruises littering your skin – when he spots the ones around your neck, he has to swallow down the bile – and how you just seem so tired, barely even fighting to keep your eyes open.

the masked man looks down to you again, pausing as he directs you to look at him through what seems like a black eye. the five of them watch, frozen by shock or anger or both, as the man rears his hand back and slaps you across the face so hard your head whips in the other direction. a pained, defeated sound escapes you, and johnny’s sure a knife to the chest would hurt less.

"do not disappoint me, captain price, or your sergeant will regret it."

the video cuts to black.

the sight of your face is burned into johnny's retinas, every time he blinks your features are there, dripping in your own blood, the only thing he can see.

"kate, tell me you can find this." price growls behind him, his words sounding distant to johnny's ears.

she hums distractedly. "working on it."

their conversation doesn't register, floating in one ear and straight out the other. you're alive. he can get you back, he can hold you in his arms again. it's like his prayers have been answered for once in his life, and it may be some cruel trick from god to find you like this but johnny finds himself praying his thanks anyway.

"johnny…?" simon lays a hand on his shoulder, turning him in his chair to make worried eye contact with his shell-shocked expression. it jolts him out of his thoughts, the energy of the room a controlled kind of frantic as he comes back down to earth.

"that's– it's them, they're–" johnny sputters, gripping ghost's forearm with an absent desperation in his glassy eyes, "simon, they're alive."

he can't stop thinking about how empty your expression looked, the way you didn't have any fight left, and the gravity of what's been happening to you since the moment he lost you slowly creeps up on him.

have you given up hope of them finding you?

"we'll get 'em back, soap, listen to me," price drops a heavy, grounding hand on his other shoulder, halting his spiralling train of thought, "they're comin' home." his voice is resolute, no room for argument where he speaks it almost like a command.

johnny can only nod. 

his head is still light as more rushed conversation happens around him. simon's hand is still on his shoulder, and that might be the only reason he hasn't completely fallen apart yet, but the thread is pulling taught enough to snap. his nails carve dents into his palms but he doesn't have the mind to unfurl them.

"sir, we've got a hit." gaz speaks up from where he's leaned over kate's shoulder, a determined glint in his eye when he meets the captain's gaze. johnny’s head snaps in his direction, his pulse quickening with every word that sparks new hope in his chest. "two hundred klicks northeast of where we found the laptop."

"good work, you two," price is pacing back and forth, scratching his beard with a calculating look on his face. they watch him for a moment, waiting for his command on what their next move will be, but johnny finds his patience wearing incredibly thin.

"the fuck we waitin' for? let's get out there'n go after the wee bastards!" he growls, his narrowed gaze darting between price and the others as he steadily grows more and more restless.

simon shakes his head from beside him, "hold your horses."

"this is delicate, we have to do this one right." price pauses, his eyes losing their hardness as he meets johnny's desperate face. "i know how much this means to you, but you're too close to this, soap."

the pause that follows that is so thick with tension it makes it hard to breath. a boiling type of rage bubbles up in his chest, extending to every trembling limb and turning his vision red. there was no way in hell he wasn't going to be there for you every step of the way when – not if – they rescued you.

"ye can get yersel' right tae fuck!" he spits, his face contorted with anger as he shoots up from his chair and points an accusatory finger at the captain. "that's too far, price, ye cannae keep me outta this!"

"johnny, sit down." simon warns, using the hand still on his shoulder to put some space between him and price, but johnny doesn't budge; this was far too important.

"yer aff yer heid, both of ye's! if ye won't let me come, i'll go mysel', ye fuckin' hear?" he growls, shaking free of simon's hand. his glare travels between him and price, hands wound into fists at his sides.

the air turns heavy as they stare each other down. if price thinks he'll back down on this, johnny would love nothing more than to prove him wrong.

he's moments away from meeting his fist to price's face when gaz stands up and gets between them. "that's his other half, sir. respectfully, he deserves to be part of this." he reasons, giving price a firm look and a small nod to johnny. "you'd be the same in his position."

the tension is palpable. he watches  over gaz's shoulder as the captain deliberates, clearly having an internal battle over the decision, but eventually he sighs and fixes johnny with a stern look.

price closes the distance between them, patting gaz on the arm as he passes. "screw your head on, mactavish. we only get one shot at this, i need to know i can trust you not to fuck it up."

a spark of hope makes johnny's heart race, and he gives price a single resolute nod of confirmation. "i won't, sir."

laswell stands and walks around the table to stand beside price, a similarly firm expression. "we have to play this carefully. they wanted us to find that laptop, i have no doubt they wanted us to find where they are too."

"so what's our angle?" gaz asks.

laswell and price share a look.

"this has to be off the books, there's no way we'll get clearance for this." laswell answers, her expression turning noticeably darker, looking over to price as she continues, "if we want them back alive, we'll have to act fast. that means we're on our own."

the captain nods with no hesitation. "we are getting my sergeant back. i don't care how we have to do it."

they're loading into the back of a helo not even an hour later. the five of them, along with two field medics and the pilot, with the strict instructions in johnny's head to bring you home or to not come back at all.

there's only one coherent thought racing through his mind for the entire; you. getting you back, taking you home, finding the man that took you away from him – and hurt you – and making him pay.

he fishes your tags out of his pocket and presses them to his lips in a lingering kiss, just like he always does. soon, he thinks, it would be you he'd be kissing, not just a remnant of you.

the flight passes by so quickly it's almost as if he'd blinked and they were landing again.

the air is glacial as they ready themselves, preparing for the mask to put up a fight that they fully intend to win. the plan was decided on during the journey; kate and ghost would provide support from a distance while price, gaz, and johnny would confront the bastard head on. his focus is razor sharp, marching through the trees and underbrush, blood rushing in his ears and jaw clenched painfully tight.

the sky is just as strikingly blue as the day he lost you.

bring you home, or don't come back.

they reach a break in the trees, surrounding the small facility they tracked the video to that looked more like a derelict warehouse than a base. either way, the dark figure of their target is visible against the brick wall, surrounded by a number of his own soldiers – johnny counts six as he, price, and gaz make themselves known coming through the treeline. they share a quick look; they know how this will end.

"well met, captain," the mask calls, slowing to a stop and leaving a few metres of space between himself and the three of them, "will you make the right choice, or will your sergeant suffer for your pride, i wond–"

his monologue is cut short by a shot from the darkness of the treeline and lodging mercilessly into the base of his throat. his deadweight hits the ground with a thud that echoes, and in less than a second bullets are flying.

soap tightens his grip on his gun, raising it to glare down the sights and firing at the soldier nearest to him and dropping him with one well placed bullet to the leg and another to the face once he was on the floor.

another shot from the treeline drops one more; four left.

gaz and price take out another two between them in a similar fashion to soap, leaving two still standing – one of whom was advancing fast with the barrel of his gun pointed at soap while the other backed away.

one more shot rings out from the trees and one more body falls, but the last hostile was far too close for comfort now, johnny had no choice but to tackle him to the ground, narrowly avoiding being shot himself on the way down.

a few seconds pass as they wrestle on the ground, both trying desperately to gain the upper hand but falling just short because of the other. from his peripheral soap can see price running to his aid, but his momentary distraction allowed his assailant to take the upper hand and roll on top of him.

hands constrict around his neck, cutting off his airflow, but a well timed shot from price sends him falling over sideways, sputtering blood from the wound in his side.

soap heaves and cough, pulling air back into his lungs and glaring at the body of the man who almost got the better of him. this only meant they were one step closer to getting you back; he was one step closer to having you in his arms again. it didn't matter if he got hurt in the process.

price's outstretched hand suddenly appears in his vision, "get up soap, we've got a job to do."

his daze melts away and he takes the captain's hand, allowing himself to be pulled upright with an affirming nod shared between them.

"good aim, ma'am." gaz calls over the radio, looking down his nose at the steadily declining state of the mask; his infamous facade now cracked and broken, revealing the agonised face beneath.

"bring 'em home, boys." kate replies, and though he can't see her face johnny can imagine the commanding look she's undoubtedly wearing.

gaz backs away as johnny crosses the mess of crimson and dirt to where the mask lays, sprawled out and immobilised by his injuries but still very much alive, giving the fellow sergeant a respectful nod as he goes. "he's all yours, mate."

johnny stands over his fading form, watching with a detached look in his eye as the blood spills from the gaping wound in his neck with every struggled breath, his disjointed intake of air and the pathetic sputters as he inhales his own viscera. there's not a shred of mercy in him as he gazes down at the man, every bit of agony was completely deserved for what he did to you. the death that claws at him would be a blessing.

he gurgles to johnny, raising a weak arm to brush the hem of his trousers as he attempts to expel the words, "pl–ea– plea-se–"

johnny scoffs, dry and venomous. he has half a mind to leave him to suffer until the life finally bleeds from him, but the pure rage he feels listening to this bastard plead for help after putting you through hell for a year is far too strong for him to restrain.

it's unconscious, the way johnny's arm raises to point the barrel of his pistol squarely at the centre of his forehead. he pauses for a moment, if only to see the fear creep into the bastard's expression before his fingers squeeze the trigger and the light is gone from his eyes.

his chest stops heaving and his hand drops back to the mud,  leaving nothing but a few bloody fingerprints in his wake.

johnny pulls the trigger again.

and again, and again, and again, until his face is nothing more than a cavity of gore and lead and the ringing in his ears blocks out everything else around him.

a firm hand comes down on his shoulder and it’s only then does he notice the tension in his muscles and the fierce sneer pulling at his features. his eyes snap to the dark figure in the corner of his vision, meeting the bone white of simon's mask and the frown underneath.

"that'll do, johnny." simon murmurs, his own darkened eyes glaring down at the mangled corpse laying at their feet. he nods, somewhat absently, and turns away from the offending body.

there were more important things he needed to keep his head on straight for.

neither him or simon spare the remains of the mask another glance as they leave him behind. price and gaz are waiting by the entrance for them, and as soon as they're close enough they head together into the dark corridors of the building.

as the creep through the abandoned building, now deep in the cold basement, weapons poised and on high alert, there's a new sense of dread that forms in the back of his mind; what if you're not here after all? what if the mask was bluffing and you're already dead?

johnny grits his teeth and shakes his head to rid himself of that damning train of thought. he couldn't afford to think like that, he wouldn't, but another corridor of empty rooms has his heart sinking like an anchor to his stomach. he's trying to stay hopeful, but every dead end only makes him feel worse.

price grips his shoulder, firm and comforting, with a look in his eye to match as he catches johnny's gaze. "we'll find 'em, soap." 

"i know." he replies, but there's a waver in his voice despite the certainty of his words. price doesn't release his gaze or his shoulder until he moves to follow the others.

he doesn't say much else as the search continues. the ringing in his ears is back, amplified by the eerie silence of the halls. he can feel the air getting colder after each empty room the clear.

the time passes arbitrarily, until there's one last room to check. johnny watches gaz and ghost pry it open, the sound of the lock breaking only just reaching him through the fog over his senses.

gaz pauses once the door swings open, his eyes locked onto something in the room as they widen dramatically. he still doesn't tear his gaze away as his jaw falls open, something frantic in the way he yells, "soap!"

a spark of hope strikes his heart and travels to the very ends of his limbs, a new burst of energy filling him as he shoves past his teammates to stand in the doorway and look into the room himself.

it's you.

curled into yourself in the corner of the damp cell, shivering with your face buried in your knees with your hands clamped over your ears. it's almost uncanny, how small you look. the tremble in your limbs, the fear in your quickened breaths, it was the exact opposite of how you should be, but despite it all…

it's really you.

johnny feels his heart swell painfully with relief, and without another second of hesitation he's skidding to his knees beside you and gripping the cold skin of your wrists. you let out a muffled sob at the contact, and johnny feels his blood turn cold when it meets his ears.

"don't!" you cry, weak and desperate. johnny's caught off guard with how you try to rip yourself away from him, the shakes that wrack your body only increasing when he keeps his hold on you. "get off! please– please don't!"

his heart cracks anew at the distress in your hoarse voice. he feels his eyes well up with hot tears that he has to fight to keep from falling.

"hey, it's me! it's johnny, it's your johnny! look at me, sweetheart, i'm here!" he tries to calm you with his words, keeping his voice low between you both, but you keep your eyes screwed tightly shut.

johnny lets go of your wrists to cup your face in his hands instead, gently turning your head towards him and using his thumbs to stroke soft shapes into your cheeks. the gesture makes your breath hitch audibly, and your eyes slowly open to meet his. "that's it, I'm here, i got ye, yer alright."

"don't– i don't– i can't…" whatever you're trying to say is broken up by the effort it takes you to keep breathing through your sobs. you still try to lean away from his touch, but johnny doesn't let you move far. he has to bite the inside of his cheek to hold back his own breakdown.

"no-one's gonna hurt you again, darlin', i promise ye." he murmurs, searching your glassy eyes while he continues to smooth his thumbs over the skin of your face, wet with your tears. "c'mere, i've got ye…"

with little more resistance from you, johnny gathers you into his arms and presses you close to his chest, they way he'd been dreaming off all the time you'd been apart. he pays no mind to the way the hard ground digs into his knees, and instead focuses on feeling the rise and fall of your ribcage against his own, your heartbeat under his fingertips, and the very real sound of your voice.

"you– j-johnny…" you stutter, your hiccuping sobs gradually fading away as you grip the bulk of his vest like a lifeline. "are you… real?"

"i'm real, darlin'," his voice cracks despite his efforts to stay strong for you. he presses his lips to the tip of your head in a lingering kiss, partly so you won't see the glossy tears in his eyes as he tries to stamp them down. "i'm here. i swear, i'm never lettin' you out of my sight again."

the simple feeling of your weight leaning against him is so overwhelming he's worried he might faint. he lets you calm down, rubbing soothing patterns up and down your arms and back and wherever he can reach, even when the position becomes uncomfortable and the dampness from the floor has seeped into his bones.

eventually though, he does pull back, softly shush you when you protest in the thought that he's leaving you, and cups your head in his warm hands.

"let's get you home, eh?" he smiles. your uncertain eyes dart between his for a moment, searching, before you nod. it's weak and hesitant, but the gesture makes his grin stretch a little wider all the same. "c'mon then, think ye can walk?"

johnny sighs when you shake your head, looking down and seeming almost embarrassed by your frail condition as if any of this was your fault. if he could kill that bastard again, he wouldn't even hesitate.

it's no bother to him to haul you up with him, holding you carefully against his chest with an arm under your knees and the other around your back. you still gingerly grip the top of his vest, your free arm looping itself around his neck and pulling yourself as close to him as you can muster. he gives a concise nod to the others, crowded in the doorway, and they begin the trek back to the helo.

the sunlight causes you to bury your face in the crook of johnny's neck, shielding your eyes from the blindingly bright rays. he allows himself a moment of distraction as they cross the clearing to revel in the feeling. he'd feel the sun on his face again, but he'd never again take for granted a single moment he spends with you.

they're almost to the edge of the clearing, almost departed from that haunted place with a graveyard of mangled bodies in their wake, but he doesn't quite make it to the treeline.

a single gunshot echoes through the clearing and before any of them can react, the shell has found its mark in johnny's leg. the force and shock of it sends him tumbling to the floor, scrambling through the blossoming pain to brace his fall on his arms so he won't land on top of you.

there's yelling, returning fire, but johnny can only focus on covering your body with his own, shielding you from any harm that might find you. even through the agony travelling up his thigh, even when the air is still again, and even when his own eyes are threatening to follow yours in falling shut and succumbing to the weakness that drags him down.

when did you shut your eyes? johnny slips his hand under your hand, grunting in his chest as his weight shifts, and to his horror his fingers come back red.

no, no no. he only just got you back, he cannot lose you again.

he doesn't even register that he's shouting – for help, a medic, something – until his weight is being heaved over ghost's shoulder and you're being taken by price, the cracks in his stony expression only fuel the sick dread making its way up johnny's throat.

back in the helo, in no time but he doesn't remember the journey, he tries to push the medic away who starts working on his leg, slurring for them to help you first. they ignore him, obviously, and if he had any energy left he would've berated them for not listening. ghost holds him down as they secure the tourniquet, and as his vision finally begins to fade, he turns his head to the side so you can be the last thing he sees as he slips into unconsciousness.

for once, he doesn't dream of you.

there are no images of your body, laying motionless under the rubble. he sleeps in blissful oblivion, his head completely silent, and wakes a day and a half later feeling more rested than he ever has despite the wound in his leg.

simon is by his bedside when he finally opens his eyes. it's late, the room dark apart from the fluorescent light bleeding in from the gap under the door and simon's phone highlighting his balaclava. he notices the moment johnny turns his head to watch him, because of course he does, and reaches over to turn on the lamp on the side table without a word.

"mornin', lt…" johnny mumbles, voice hoarse and eyes heavy as he pushes through the tiredness clinging to his senses to sit up in his bed. the light is abrasive to his eyes, but he blinks through the sting and manages a lazy smile towards simon.

"evenin', more like." he replies, a trace of humour in the way his eyes lift at the corners. "been asleep nearly thirty-eight hours."

johnny baulks at that, suddenly feeling a lot more awake from the cold shock that passes through him. "thirty–? jesus wept, i need'ta–" he sputters, wide-eyed as he throws the blankets from his legs and starts to get up, "i need'ta see 'em, how–"

before he can get his feet on the ground however, he's pushed back by simon's hand on his chest, forcing him to sit back and acknowledge the pain radiating from his thigh.

"they're fine, johnny." simon tells him, punctuated with a roll of his eyes before he continues, "been in and out of consciousness, but they're stable."

johnny sighs deeply, relief flooding through his body as he slumps back against his pillows. you're okay, you're alive, you're here, and you're home and safe. his thoughts have already begun racing and despite how much his wounds are aching, he's already set his mind to how he's going to see you as soon as possible.

as if sensing his plotting, simon leans forward to catch his gaze and even through the mask johnny can see the look he's sending him.

"i'm goin' back to bed, so don't do anythin' stupid." simon begins, pushing himself to stand using the arms of his chair and narrowing his eyes as he leans even closer. "if you rip these stitches, i'll put 'em back in myself, clear?"

"crystal, lt." johnny nods, and simon holds his stare as one last warning before he turns to leave – but not without giving him a firm pat just below his bandages that makes him wince, feeling the silent threat behind the gesture as he watches simon exit silently out into the hall.

johnny swings his legs over the side of the bed the second the door swings shut again, a sharp intake of breath following the movement as his weight shifts. surely he could get to where you are without making his wound any worse, he hard could it be?

he makes it two doors down before he realises that this might've been a bad idea. the muscles of his thigh burn and his breath comes out in heavy, stuttered huffs, but despite the strain on his injured body he refuses to give up before he's seen that you're okay with his own two eyes.

the fourth door he peeks through is where he finds you, the sight of your sleeping form instantly overpowering the pain in his leg. he shoulders open the door and beelines in a limp to your bedside, his gaze never once leaving your face until he's close enough to grasp your hand in a slow, featherlight touch like you'd disappear if he made a wrong move. you don't react as he strokes your knuckles, but johnny is more than content to just sit with you, perched on the edge of your bed and taking in the way your breath fills your lungs, the gentle thrum of your pulse under his fingertips on your wrist.

time passes easily like this, until the minutes have gone by and he can find the strength to lift himself into the bed beside you, snaking his arm around your neck and shoulder to hold you close as he settles in, careful not to agitate any of your own injuries.

"i missed you, my love," johnny whispers, dragging his fingers up and down your arm, pressing his lips to the crown of your head, "i missed you so much…"

your fingers twitch in his hold, the steady rhythm of your breathing hitching as a shaky sigh leaves you. johnny freezes, his hand stilling on your bicep and his eyes growing wide.

"john–" the sound of his name passing your lips pulls him out of his shock, and he pulls back to watch your eyes twitch and flutter open. your voice is raspy and still weak, but not even an angel choir could sound sweeter to him. "johnny…?"

"i'm here–" his voice breaks, but he continues anyway, "i'm here, i got ye." he murmurs, careful to keep his voice low despite how much he wants to cry from joy. "how ye feelin'? you comfy, sweetheart? any pain?" he asks, shifting the both of you to sit against the pillows and keep you nestled against his side.

"i'm okay–" your hoarse response is interrupted by a cough that devolves into wet hiccups, your hands curling tightly into his shirt as you look up at him, "it– am i– it's–"

"shushsh, i'm here darlin', i've got ye." he coos, his eyes welling up to match yours, resuming his soothing touch over your arm. you stay like that, for minutes that could've been hours, gazing into each other's eyes while you softly cry and johnny comforts you.

it aches him to see you cry, but he can't help but awe at how beautiful you still manage to be, with cuts and bruises and tears littering your face. his heart swells in his chest with the love he holds for you.

your hand finds its place on johnny's cheek, your staggered breaths calming down at last. he covers it with his own to feel more of your skin on his. a wince crosses your expression as you try to lean up towards him, but he stops you before you hurt yourself any further and leans his forehead against yours.

you pull his face even closer, digging your fingertips into his cheek in an almost uncomfortable sensation, before brushing your lips against his in something like disbelief. "am i dreaming?"

"no, my love," he utters against your skin, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, nudging your cheek with his nose, "this is real."

your breath hitches again when he closes the little space left between you and presses his lips to yours, encapsulating you in a kiss that holds every ounce of desperation he's been holding on to. it's passionate, all-encompassing, and it reminds him of the first time he kissed you all those years ago. your free hand travels up to his hair, tangling the longer strands around your fingers and drawing a groan from deep in his chest.

he's reluctant to let you when you pull away for air, tasting the salt from your last stray tears as he chases your lips.

"say it again…?" you ask in a murmur, your eyes fluttering open again. the look you give him, one of pure hope that you won't suddenly wake up alone, it makes johnny's heart miss a beat.

he squeezes your hand, turning slightly to leave a kiss on your palm. "it's real, bonnie. i'll die before i ever let you go again."

your mouth opens to say something, but you stop yourself just before you can choke the words out, fresh tears building in your eyes again. johnny gives you an encouraging nod, holding your gaze while you muster the courage to voice what you're thinking.

"i–" you begin, your words catching on a lump in your throat, "i watched you leave without me, i had to watch the helicopter disappear and, and you…" your voice fades, eyes darting between his while they gloss with unshed tears once again.

"sweetheart…" he frowns, his heart breaking anew from the anguish that he never wants to hear in your voice.

you swallow thickly, your hold on his hair tightening ever so slightly. "i thought– i didn't think you'd ever find me…"

"i'd always find you." johnny replies, his resolute tone leaving no room for argument. he touches his forehead to yours again and lowers his voice to continue, "even if i had to go tae the ends of the earth, i'd never stop lookin' fer you."

his words release the fresh tears you've been holding back, and with a quiet sob you drop your face to the crook of his neck, gripping his hair and face tighter still. johnny softly shushes you, rocking the two of you back and forth as much as he can with you held close in his arms.

"you're staying with me tonight…" your voice is muffled, spoken into his neck and sending goosebumps rippling across his skin. a comforting nostalgia follows your words, one he can't help but chuckle at.

"would'nae have it any other way, darlin'."

[sungiescheotluv]

falling dominos ⭑.ᐟ na jaemin

pairing: na jaemin x gender neutral reader

word count: 3.1k

tags/warnings: angst, fluff, minor swearing, jaemin being the best

summary: after one particularly cruel lesson, you swear off anyone in order to protect your mending heart. in comes jaemin, who's kindness must run out someday, right?

notes: hii there! ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა this is my first official post on here! this fic was honestly a very in the moment thing i scraped together, so if this doesn't make sense, i do apologise. it's 3 am here, and i can't be bothered to edit now lmao 😭 also, jeno makes a little cameo in this! (i'm sorry for making you an asshole in this T_T) i'm not totally sure if i'll be posting a lot on this blog, but i did want to contribute just a bit of comfort the dreamies are able to give me <3 thank you! much love! (˶˃⤙˂˶)

The first domino fell a while ago. 

Summer is drawing to a close, the smell of freshly-cut grass and sunscreen gone with the autumn winds. It’s to be expected -  things change, nothing lasts. Like your four years at university, they come and now, they’ve gone. It’s strange, adapting to a world that doesn’t revolve around 9 am lectures, that doesn’t include being within walking distance to your best friends, the always crowded student bars and bustling clubs. It feels like you were losing touch with yourself, a version you’ve bloomed into that’s brought you so many blessings. Friends to cherish, knowledge that takes you everywhere and a partner you’d do life with in a heartbeat.

Meeting Jaemin, like most social interactions, is unexpected. The bar you and your friends is unusually deserted for a Tuesday, disgruntled groans and beer bottles slamming against the bar at the ice hockey game broadcasted across the space. You have some interest in the puck movement, having been dragged weeks ago to the campus ice hockey arena for an exciting game against your university’s rival. The roof was moments from being blown off, the energy and screams so palpable you felt it in your frozen fingertips. You thought (naively so) that your night ended when the buzzer blared, ears ringing to commemorate your team’s 5-2 win. That couldn’t be furthest from the truth, your friends somehow convincing you to join them at a house party. Looking back, you should’ve declined - you had deadlines within the week and exams soon after, the smart choice would’ve been to bury your head in books and gain feeling back in your toes - and yet, there you were, tucked away in a dark corner, speaking in low whispers with a boy who was as troubled as he looked. 

You couldn’t blame yourself, once Jeno - or he who shall not be named - flashed his moon crescent smile and made a joke about no jeans fitting him from all the hockey he played. You were already a few drinks in, more approachable and less wise, so you gave in to your desires, let him put you through the mattress in a way that made your eyes roll and toes curl. Of course, he maintained his nice guy image throughout, checking-in with you every step of the way, cooking you breakfast the next day and kissing you in front of his housemates in a sealed promise on his doorstep. You weren’t the type to get your hopes up about men, because they always found a way to disappoint you, but the glimmer in Jeno’s eyes on his doorstep, holding your hand like he didn’t want to let go, you couldn’t help it. You texted a few times following that night, the rose-tinted glasses fading as time stretched on, him never finding the time of day to text you, much less meet up. You’d even gone the extra mile of watching his favourite pro-league teams’ games, becoming a fan of the game yourself. The nail in the coffin was right after exams, when your friends and you squeezed into a stuffy local bar to celebrate, so close to everyone you could hear whispers between lovers. In a familiar voice, you heard word-for-word what Jeno said to you, only to find him staring down at another with the same look in his eyes he gave you.

How foolish you were. Thinking you were anything more than a notch in his bedpost. And in all his audacity, Jeno catches your eyes, a polite nod sent your way before he reverts back to his other, like you didn’t kiss the breath out of you two weeks beforehand. It took you an embarrassingly long time to recover from the shock, the hurt - the whole Christmas break actually - and when you returned to campus, you vowed your friends only mattered because through your two years together, at least they didn’t disappoint you. Unlike the game playing.

Jeno’s favourite team was up against their fated rivals, a team you’ve switched to support out of spite. Unfortunately for you, they were trailing 3-1, and things were looking bleak. A heavy sigh empties out you, arms bracing yourself against the polished bar as you wait your turn to be serviced.

“Sounds like you’ve got the world’s weight on your shoulders.”

You cast the source a sidelong glance, an air of disinterest clouding you before you spare him a sliver of your attention, heart ceasing in the process. He’s a couple inches taller than you, chiselled face highlighted by the dimmed neon lights of the bar. His chestnut brown hair is shades lighter than the brown in his eyes, a twinkle so kind to them that you’re oddly at ease. He’s got an easy smile too, one full of a life you see together years down the line. He’s beautiful. Surely, there’s a catch? Maybe, this is the universe’s way of testing you. Seeing if you’ll make one and the same mistakes again. You wouldn’t, not after how discarded you felt after Jeno. But in the low chatter of the bar, you feel nudged towards him. Like if you take this chance, maybe you’ll rewrite your fate. End the curse of selfish interests and find someone worth loving.

“Hockey will do that to you,” you shrug, averting your eyes because you can’t stand how intentional he looks at you. “Something I’ve recently discovered.”

He laughs, hearty and genuine. “Comes with the territory, unfortunately. Planning my team’s cup parade has been an on-and-off thing since I can remember.”

“Leafs?” He nods and you snicker, recognizing his pain. “At least we’re in the same boat.”

“Misery loves company, I’ve heard,” he smiles, a stutter in your chest the after affect. “Well, since we’re gonna be subjected to this torture for the next two periods, might as well get to know each other. My name’s Jaemin.”

He offers his hand, a formal act that takes you by surprise. You simper regardless, accepting the handshake with a burn against your skin rivaling the sun, telling him your own name.

“Could I interest you in a drink? That usually helps with the sorrows.” he offers, a teasing grin amidst his charming features. As if you could say no to him. 

Jaemin flags the bartender over, two drinks placed before you two. You glance back at your table nearby, catching your friends huddled together on the edge of their seats watching the interaction unfold. The sea of nods and thumbs up makes your eyes roll, a gesture Jaemin catches onto as he looks over his shoulder. He’s playful enough to be amused, politely waving to your group who waves back, falling into a series of audible chatter afterwards.

“They’re not usually that uhm…forward.” You reason, gazing down into your drink.

“I don’t mind forward. It’s funny, if anything,” Jaemin says, running his fingers through his hair. “Do you?”

There’s a hidden layer to his question, nothing to do with them and everything to do with you. Would you like me to be forward? Let you know how much of my interest you hold?

 “Not at the moment,” his eyebrows raise slightly. “Depends on what’s in store.”

Jaemin hums, the corners of his lips lifting which he shields taking a swig of his beer. “I can think of a few things.”

You curse at yourself, opening the door for something that’s already led you down a treacherous path. However, to Jaemin’s credit, those few things conclude at casual brushes of the hand, warm smiles accompanied with heartfelt compliments and his number. He even gets a round of shots for your friends when you part ways, lending all the power to you who is quickly surrounded by squeals and eager looks from your friends. You try not buy into the hype, because you know how this story ends, but you can’t help but hope you’re wrong. 

How wrong you are unfolds the weeks following your encounter, texts sent back and forth at the speed of light like you’re the exception to his day, more encounters following. Jaemin shows up as who he is - warm, insightful and stupidly kind. You’re waiting for the sheep to shed its clothing, but the moment never happens. He treats you like you spin his world around, finding every and any excuse to speak, to see you. You bond over the very thing you started to resent - hockey - and turn it into something more. A topic of conversation, an excuse to spend time together, a date idea you toss around, all until other things fill in the gaps. Become the glue that joins your hearts together, beating in sync. 

You’d promised yourself you’d never fall for another selfish guy again, and you didn’t. Jaemin gives you every bit of himself, devoting himself to being the partner you deserve. A partner that remembers the little things, that picks you up when you’re feeling low, the one person who despite the constant change in your life remains constant. It’s refreshing having his stability in your life, particularly when that first domino falls. When you graduate and have to face the real world.

Jaemin accustomizes himself to the new change relatively quickly, finding a job and apartment before you even graduate. Some people are lucky that way, like some of your friends. You, on the other hand, struggle beyond your graduation day, your smile unnerved in your portrait because you’re so unsure of your future. Friends and family alike assure you you’ll find better luck as the sunny days go by, but when the leaves turn from green to yellow-brown, when they start to fall to the ground, your worries set in.

Another domino falls when the friends you could see on an given whim take over an hour to see, the end of university dispersing you back to hometowns or big cities that promised adventure. You’re holding yourself together, appearing unaffected when you have to move back in with your parents and take up a job you left to go to university. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it is, especially when you’re gathered at a cocktail filled table with friends glowing from their new lives polished by elite jobs and new experiences (new friends too). All you can contribute is how many customers have nagged you about the ice cream machine not working.

It isn’t all bad, per se. Since you’re living with your parents again, you save more money which you direct to a travel fund. Ever since you’d met, Jaemin and you always talked about traveling. He’d capture you in front of famous landmarks with his camera, but also capture you in candid moments - pleased that everything ended up working out. It was something you were working towards, a goal you’d taken concrete steps towards but soon, they had to crumble.

A string of bad luck begins to permeate your life, nothing too worrisome at first, but after spending more than necessary to fix your car, being publicly humiliated at work and watching your friends live their best lives online, your patience wears thin. The straw that breaks the camel’s back is the necklace Jaemin gave you early in your relationship breaking. It would’ve been fixable if it weren’t for it falling in between machinery at work that couldn’t be moved in case of a casualty and at this point, you’re no longer strong. You’re not bracing the dominos with all your might and as a result, they crush you, falling against your back and trickling down all the way until the end. 

It’s a wonder how you make it to Jaemin’s apartment for your at-home date and when you step inside, the scent of your favourite meal wafting in the air, you shed a tear. Or a few. Sniffling while you’re taking off your shoes, and of course, the shoelaces somehow get tangled and you’re suddenly fighting a battle you can’t win. Every tug of your laces a test of your willpower.

“Baby love?” 

Your bottom lip quivers, bitten down into as you turn your head to your boyfriend. Bathed in soft lighting, he wears a pink ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron across his My Melody pajamas that match your Kuromi ones. He looks as charming as he did the first day you met, even kinder than you’d known. Luna’s circling around him, her tail curling around his leg and it makes your poor heart burst, the tears overflowing.

He’s at your side before you blink them away, collapsed on the entryway ledge with you as his warm hands cup your face.

“What’s wrong, love?” he calls, gentle like he’s always been. “Please tell me so we can solve it together. Your heart’s too beautiful to be crying like this.”

You sob harder, his thumbs not fast enough to dry the stream from your eyes. “I’m so lost, Jaemi. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“With what?”

“I’m so far behind,” you sulk, looking at him through tears. “Everyone’s got their shit figured out. Life is happening for them, not at them.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos, bringing your body closer as you cradle into his arms, letting your heart break into a million pieces. “Life’s no race, no one knows where they’re going.  There’s nowhere you need to be right now. Everyone moves at their own pace, right?”

“But-”

“Don’t make yourself the exception. Life’s never easy, but you’re making the best of your situation. Yours is the only one that matters, because it’s your story,” Jaemin rasps, a soothing hand caressing your back. “It may not go according to plan, but if there’s anything I know, it’s that you have it in you. To pick yourself up and do the hard things, because you know you deserve more. You know you deserve better.”

A kiss atop your head. “And I’ll be there to support you, each step of the way,”

Another on your forehead. “I’ll remind you as many times as you need, okay?”

Your last tears absorb into your eyelashes, peering up at Jaemin, who on your worst days, looks at you like you hold all the secrets to the universe. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And you mean it. With every fiber of your being.

The collapse of dominos seems to wear you out, surrendering yourself as you go limp in Jaemin’s arms. With a kiss on the forehead, he shuffles to the edge of the doorway ledge, scooping his arms underneath your legs and supporting your back as he stands to his feet. Instinctively, you cling to him, Jaemin providing that same stability he’s given you from the moment you two met. Venturing further into his apartment, he plots you down on the living room couch, all his three cats coming to rest alongside you in his absence. You hear the bath start to run and sink into the couch at the thought, being lulled to the sounds of soft purs and fur.

In your sleepy daze, you don’t realise Jaemin’s finished running the bath until the cats are launching off you, cradled in his arms again as he hums his way to the bathroom. The only lights hat occupy the space are scented-candles, lavender filling the air as Jaemin steads you to your feet, your shared chill playlist blaring a speaker nearby.

Working at the buttons of your blouse, your eyebrows furrow at the shirt he removes. “You’re getting in with me?’

Jaemin offers a sweet, reserved smile, hands picking up where you left off. “Of course. Who else is going to wash your back, hmm?”

He kisses your nose once done, shedding his own share of clothes before slipping into the bubble-filled tub. He makes a comment about how much you’d enjoy the temperature of the water, his flinching a clear indication as he pats against his chest for you to lay. Somehow, with your body sagging with prolonged exhaustion, he draws a simper out of you, tensions dissipating from your muscles as you turn your brain off and simply be. 

Head against his chest, Jaemin’s heart sings to you at a slow and soft pace, his hand overlapping yours as he massages the pressure points on them. It’s as if you’re transported to another world, all you know being quiet and serenity as your problems melt away for just those few moments together. 

“Thank you,” you croak, a sleepy film blurring your vision. “For everything.”

“No need to thank me,” he murmurs, fingers intertwining with yours. “I’ve got your back - forever and always.”

You give his hand an affectionate squeeze, turning your head to give him a peck, only to find his jawline lathered in foam. Jaemin does his best Santa impression, moving his chest with his laughs. It’s lame, but it does the trick, filtering laughter out of you with the shake of your head.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“You still love me though,” he presses a kiss against your cheekbone, bits of his foam beard left behind. 

“Unfortunately.”

“Must be feeling a lot better if you’re speaking like that,” he squeezes your hand, a series of kiss down your neck making you giggle and splash around the tub. 

“I am,” you admit, an instinctive hand going to clasp against your necklace, only for there to be none. “My necklace - it broke off at work.”

“Aw, shit. I’m sorry baby,” another squeeze. “Is it in your bag?”

“It fell between some machinery at work, I couldn’t get to it,” a lump of emotion wells in your throat. “I’m sorry.”

“Accidents happen, it’s okay,” he reassures you, steady and calm to ground you. “Wanna know something?”

“What?” you ask.

“I actually bought you another necklace earlier today,” he chuckles, the sound vibrating against your skin. “There’s this store on the way to work that had one with your birthstone. It was going to be your Christmas present but,”

“Santa came early this year,” you chuckle, the tilt of your head giving you access to kiss his jaw. “How’d I get so lucky?”

“I ask myself that every day.”

You spend the rest of your night like this, basking in the boundless love Jaemin and you share, wrinkles forming against your skin before you climb out the bath, sitting in your matching pyjamas while enjoying your favourite meal and Leafs hockey game. It’s a bit different from your normal date nights, but it works for you two. Like how everything leading up to your meeting - good or bad - led you here, in the arms of a man who loves you like no other. A man who proved you wrong at every turn and never turned away, staying with you until all the dominos were in place again.

[alieinthemorning]

Mission Accomplished [Caleb]

Content: Major Character Death, Angst, Written Before Caleb's Official Release, Reader-Insert

Pronouns: None

Important: Caleb is a childhood friend. Period. Anything outside of that makes me very uncomfortable, so I won’t be engaging nor do I want anyone who does engage with it anywhere near me or my works. In layman’s terms, keep that brother-fucker shit away from me.

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries

Wanna support me? Here’s my Ko-Fi!

“It doesn’t have to be this way!” You had your gun aimed at him, body trembling in palpable fear.  

Caleb frowns. This was the hunter of the UNICORNS Alpha Team? He holds back a sigh of irritation. Caleb is privy to most things concerning you, and your placement in the UNICORN Alpha division was no feat made by your own merits. You were placed there by EVER’s discretion, and it is honestly a miracle that you haven’t died already. 

This time he does sigh. You truly are pathetic. He wonders why he truly was created if this was all he ever had to go up against. 

You were nothing more than a failure. 

Your voice cuts through his thoughts. “Please, Caleb!”

Your plea makes him pause. He takes a moment to think about what was most likely your very simple thought process. 

You probably were caught up in all the memories of your time together. For you, they were special, to him, it was nothing more than a mission. You were caught up in a false him that never truly existed, and now you were begging for him to “go back to normal”. Unfortunately for you, while you were dying and being sheltered by memory lost. He was forced to live out this hell. 

So, even if the two of you did run away together it would just end up with you both being dragged back to hell to do this damned song and dance all over again. However, only he would be alive for the descent. And what would be the point of that when he has two functional legs to carry him there?

BANG

“Subject 001 has been terminated.” 

“Copy. Bring it to the drop-off point.”

Caleb lifts his gaze from your lifeless body to the cloudless sky. He shifts his cap forward to shield his eyes from the onslaught of rain.

A mirthless laugh bubbles to the surface. “It’s a terrible day for rain.”  

I had a whole other homecoming fic planned, but his trailer blew that shit straight outta the water, so y'all are getting this instead :)

I hope this hurt.

Feral shit incoming later at the usual place tho lmao

Ko-Fi | Masterlist

[xhollowfaerie]

Anticipación

a/n: ok this is by far the craziest one i've written sdufhdsfisdjfsf oh my god im so nervous about postin gthis LMAO please lmk if this was any decent bc i did my best, i was really running out of synonyms for moan/whine/cry etc tags/warnings: demi4demi inexperienced Rookanis, (very slight) soft dom Lucanis, submissive fem Rook, plus sized Rook, praising kink, Lucanis discovers edging, also Lucanis discovering some things abt himself......, squirting + a surprise at the end hehehe

Kore’s moans filled the dining hall, echoing back around Lucanis, only driving him further. Their cold coffees laid long-forgotten by their side, his fingers slowly, audibly sliding in and out of her as she held onto the front of his shirt, foreheads glued together. She was sitting on the table, legs spread apart as he dipped his fingers into her, his other arm steadily holding her waist as she trembled in his grip. He’d always wanted to ravish her in that pink chemise, driving him insane from the very first time he’d seen it on her figure. His eyes flooded with desire, watching her lashes flutter helplessly.

She was panting, inadvertently dragging her nails down the back of his neck, causing a shiver to run all the way through him. His brown eyes were trained on hers, observant, taking in every microexpression on her beautiful, round face, memorizing every freckle. The way the dim light of the fireplace hit her glossy lips imprinted itself into his mind, swallowing back the thought of seeing them wrap around him. He took in a breath to gather his courage before his fingers hit deeper inside her, feeling her suddenly clamp down around them. 

“Lucanis!” Rook whined, arching her back. Fuck, she was so close-

He widened his eyes and gingerly pulled his fingers out, watching her carefully. “Lo siento, mi amor… I did not mean to hurt you.” Rook looked at him through half-parted eyelids, feverishly breathing against him, voice meek. “N-No… y-you, didn’t, I almost…”

Oh.

He flushed, embarrassed by his own lack of expertise. “I-I, I thought-”

She painfully clenched around the emptiness inside her, running her hands over his neck. Kore felt the overwhelming wetness between her legs drip down her thighs. Her pink nails held onto the lapels of his shirt, mouthing her words against his lips.

“Please.”

He closed the space between their mouths, lovingly kissing her as he slid his middle and index finger back inside - after she assured him many times that no, two were not too much, even though it had taken a bit of trial and error to figure out the best ones for the job - and she moaned into their kiss, desperately grabbing his face and bucking her hips into his hand as she started shaking.

“Lucanis, Lucanis-!”

His ears picked up a noise outside, making his heart stop dead inside his chest. He moved the hand from her waist lower, pulling her closer to the edge of the table by her ass in an attempt to cover how exposed it was, horrified that Davrin or whoever else was just about to walk in - also halting his fingers inside her.

Kore mewled in protest, collapsing her head against his shoulder as she breathed heavily.

“P-Please, L-Lucanis… you’re killing me…”

He mentally cursed himself, but something caught his attention; they had only made love a couple of times before, and while she always cried for him so sweetly - the way she said his name made it very hard to focus - he’d never seen her quite this worked up.

Almost as if…

Humming, he moved his lips to the particular spot on her neck that made her squeal, feeling her thighs tremble as he moved inside her again, gently curling his digits and quickening his pace - she shrieked and grasped a handful of his hair, her moans growing louder and louder.

“L-LUCA-NIS-”

He stopped again, smiling against her neck as she trembled from head to toe, breath hitching. The way she whined pulled at his heartstrings, but the intense influence over her was bringing something out in him that he hadn’t previously considered - that something he used in his profession could be so easily applied to pleasing her, more than he’d ever expected.

He pulled away just enough to watch her, the deliciously needy expression on her face, the blush over her ample chest and shoulders, the drops of sweat running down her forehead; the very light smears of makeup under her eyes. 

Spite growled behind him, eagerly watching Kore. 

“Nnnngh, Lucanis! Fill her already! I. Need. Her.”

They had convened (well, she had agreed for his sake- truthfully, she was not at all averse to the idea…) that no, Spite will not be coming out while they were intimate with each-other; frankly, after the things Lucanis had heard him say about her (the things he wanted to do to her), he was horrified of letting Spite out; not yet, at least. They’d barely begun their romance, and he was not about to let his uncontrollable demon lay a finger on his Rook.

“Ours!” Spite snarled at him, but Lucanis was easily distracted again as Kore leaned back, grabbing a hold of his tie to pull him towards her as she rolled her head, impatiently tightening around him until he felt his fingers go numb. Those eyes, the sweet, innocent expression he adored so, replaced by an uncontrollable lust, the gaze of a siren eating him alive.

Fuck, he wanted to please her until she was sick of him.

Cheeks flushed, pupils dilated, hair lighty tousled… she tugged on his tie again, biting into her lip. 

“P-Plea-se?” Her voice wavered, and it was an almost impossible task for him to not just give in; but he was, quite frankly, desperate to see more of the insatiable side of her, the complete trust she had in him, the absolute control she surrendered to the hands of a trained killer.

A primal desire to dishevel her further rose inside Lucanis as he very tentatively started pulling his fingers apart inside her, making her gasp. Pleased with her reaction, he leaned in closer, his hand tracing the fullness of her shapes as he whispered in her ear.

“Beautiful, Rook” his voice rumbled lowly; the elf squirmed as her walls collapsed around his fingers, tugging on his tie more decisively than before. Lucanis very quickly discovered that he really, really enjoyed the feeling of his tie tightening around his neck, watching his elven lover tug him around as she pleased.

“Vhenan…” she croaked in response, shyly glancing away as her lips trembled. He felt her hands shake, urging him to angle his digits better and gently push them further in, inhaling sharply when she threw an arm around his neck, almost straddling him as she hung off the edge of the table.

“Oh, oh, Gods, Lucanis!-”

Swiftly, but carefully, he pulled his fingers out again, hearing her voice break into a frantic sob. Her chest rose and fell erratically. He kissed her ear, her cheek, along her neck and beneath her chin, circling his lips to the other side of her head. “You’re doing so well, my rose.”

His words made her whimper; she almost came from his voice alone, reeling from his praise, barely holding herself steady as more beads of sweat rolled down her skin; Lucanis watched as they beautifully rolled down the curve of her chest before disappearing in her generous cleavage, feeling his hands grow restless. Agile, skilled - the hands of an assassin. Cool, controlled, calculated. Twitching in anticipation.

Her gaze was fully bound to him, entranced; honestly, the pleasure was so intense, she was unsure if she was actually awake or if this was one of her many dreams of him - her heart was rattling so violently inside her ribs, she thought it would burst at any moment - especially as she watched him put his fingers in his mouth, relishing the taste of her as he licked them clean. She stopped breathing, lips agape - the smallest trickle of drool lingering around the corners of her mouth; without a second thought, he softly wiped her lips, tilting her head back.

“I must admit… I’m concerned” he whispered, holding her like that as he analyzed her, “concerned that I might grow much too addicted to seeing you like this.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and squeaked in embarrassment, trying to turn away; he gingerly took her hands and motioned for her to wrap her arms around his neck, moving his own down her wide hips, the thickness of her thighs, before finally reaching behind her, grasping her ass and lifting her with so much ease, it made her heart flutter. Her legs wrapped around him instinctively, feeling his hardness brush up against her very damp core as she let out a long, sultry sigh.

He rolled his hips, rubbing himself against her; it barely took more than a few moments for her wetness to permeate the fabric of his pants, easing the friction between them. She tightened her grip on him, pressing their chests together; he felt the aggressiveness of her heartbeat colliding with his, the way she pulsated against him with lust -  and almost lost himself. 

“Please… Vhehan…” she pleaded, threading her fingers in his hair as she placed kisses over his face, covering his breathtaking features in a pink, shimmering shade of lipstick in the shape of her lips. He smiled between her pecks, moving his hips against her again ever so slightly. His voice was almost teasing, murmuring intimately. “Do you want me to stop?” 

She didn’t answer, burying her face in his neck as he grinded against her again, grasping his shoulders and digging her pretty nails into him so much it almost pierced him through his shirt.

Maker, did that feel - incredible.

He wanted - needed her to scratch him more.

“Should I help you finish, mi vida?” He lulled into her ear, preemptively smirking as he waited for her answer. “N-not…yet…” Kore bashfully glanced at him, surprised by the confidence he exuded as he placed her back on the table and guided his hand back between her legs, slicking his fingers in her juices with one, quick sweep that made her shudder. “Mm… I thought so.”

He slowly laid her down on the table, supporting himself with one arm as he curiously explored the sweetness between her legs; lovingly watching her squirm, gasp, contort under his touch. “Eres mi vida, mi mundo, mi todo (You are my life, my world, my everything)” he purred against her flesh, feeling her grasp onto him for dear life. “Eres mi alegria, la mujer de mis sueños. (You are my joy, the woman of my dreams.)” His voice only seemed to err her further, so he kept talking. The unabated huskiness of his voice rattled her to her core. "Quiero ver como mi Rosalina se deshace para mí. (I want to see how my beautiful rose comes undone for me."

Her thighs trembled violently as he brought her close to the edge, squeezing his sides with more strength than most would give her credit for. He moved so he could hold her thigh up with one hand, pushing her leg back and exposing her to him fully as she cried out in shame, feeling his thumb agonizingly circle her.

“Sathan (Please), Lucanis!” Kore wailed, feeling a flurry building inside her so violently it almost scared her. A heat unlike any other, a pressure threatening to spill at any moment. She brought a hand to her mouth and helplessly bit into it to stifle her screams, curving her spine so much her back lifted off the wooden surface, her chest spilling out of the pink satin of her chemise. 

The sheer self-control it took for Lucanis to not sheathe himself inside her then and there…

The dining room was a lewd mess of sounds; her wetness, her panting, the creaking of the table as she struggled atop; not to mention the sheer magnitude of her broken voice as she squealed and mewled for him uncontrollably, chanting his voice in between elven pet names and implorations. 

“Mierda, I want to make you sing like this for me forever.” The look on his face was one of absolute focus as he drank her depravity in, lowering himself to rest his forehead in between her chest, taking a deep breath in. The scent of her threatened to make him come undone, too, overstimulated by her hoarse cries, her tantalizing appearance, her slickness on his pants and the dull ache beginning to set into his wrist - one he immediately tossed to the back of his mind as he satisfied his Rook.

Her skin, her sweat, her perfume, his scent on her intensified the yearning in his hands, finally sliding his fingers back inside her, hooking them deeply into her core as he kept his thumb caressing her sensitive bundle of nerves.

Kore got to take a single breath into her lungs before she saw white; she might have even passed out for a second as she vehemently coiled around Lucanis, thrashing under him with a high-pitched prayer of his name.

His eyes widened in surprise as a flood of liquid met his hand, squirting all over his fingers and palm, over the hem of his sleeve, the front of his expensive shirt and all over her thighs; that, and the way she twisted and shrieked in utter pleasure while burying his face in her chest, pulling his hair. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest, feeling an increasingly insatiable need gnawing him alive.

He was so hard it hurt - and despite him usually being able to ignore it, this time, his arousal for her was almost unbearable.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan…” Kore panted deeply, feeling his face lift back up to hers. He kissed her, trembling fingers cupping his face as she twitched under him, intricately defensiveless.

“Ar lath ma, Vhenan” he responded, lacing the Elven confession with his irresistible Antivan accent. She let out a groan, feeling herself throbbing still, jittery and breathless.  “Te amo con todo mi ser (I love you with all of me)” Rook whispered, trailing her fingers down his jaw and neck, feeling him shiver. “You are a dream come true. My safe haven.”

Her eyes slid to a close, clinging to him; he more than happily obliged, rolling them over so she could rest on top of him, cradling her sweetly, holding her tight as he kissed her forehead, brushing the beautiful length of her pink hair with his fingers. “Look who’s talking” he murmured, leaning his head back to rest against the table. He adored the feeling of her in his arms…

And Spite, well, Spite found it much harder to dismiss the overpowering arousal coursing through him.

Lucanis tried to part his lips to warn her as he felt his consciousness slip - instead, his eyes overturned with a eerily incandescent shade of purple, trailing his hands hungrily over Kore’s body. A growl dragged itself out of his throat, his hands closing around her ample chest, making her weakly squirm as he played with her breasts. “Mercy, Lucanis…”

He bucked his hips up against her ass, reaching a hand between her legs and wrapping the other around her throat, baring his teeth.

“Rosalina. I. Missed you. Need you. So. So. Badly.”

“S-Spite?!”

“Nngh. Yes…” 

She squealed as his grip on her throat tightened, shivering incessantly as he rubbed her clit - fuck, fuck, fuck, she was still so sensitive, she might come again right away if he doesn’t stop - his touch contrasting aggressively with her Crow’s - her demon was rough, impatient. 

Starving.

Kore felt his lips curving deviously against her ear, melting a little too easily into his possessiveness… oh, Gods, she was as horrified as she was excited.

His hot breath tickled her, feeling the dam inside her close to breaking again as he spoke. 

“Finally. Spite’s turn.”

[mariariley]

omg thank you bb!

so i was thinking, what if the reader (aka us) brings simon to a family cook out? let’s say your mom has been dying to meet him anyways—& not only that, you notice that spaced out look on his whenever the team starts talking about their family members when it’s time to go back home.

and you’re kinda nervous because your family can be a chaotic mess, esp at cookouts. and while you both are there at the cookout, you can’t help but to notice how he barely leaves your side, almost stuck to you like some sort of adhesive!

likeeeeee! imagine your younger cousins running up to him, asking if he could help them fix their nerf guns because they keep jamming the bullets.

or how your aunties keep giving him flirty looks…and your grandma may or may not have made a comment about letting ‘him put a baby in you.’ and on the drive back to your place, you start apologizing for how embarrassing and chaotic they were and he can’t help but to smile to himself because he enjoyed every part of it <33

I told the person they can fill my inbox with as many ideas as they want :)

masterlist || have a request/ask? Here are the rules <3

MY FAMILY IS LIKE THIS ISTG 😭

Aunties would admire his muscles and height, his tattoos as well and “oh my gaaaawd he’s in the militaryyy” aka special forces but they see no difference.

Grandmas too but in the “You’d be a great lookin’ father” way. They would squeeze his muscles nonchalantly I swear. They would definitely start the “bearing children” subject a little too many times.

At some point Simon would have to tell them he doesn’t want kids mostly considering his job to which they’d wave their hands and laugh.

Uncles and grandpas would admire him as a patriot and ask him bunch of military and weapon related questions considering most of them served in the army as well. Tbh he would enjoy talking to them about it.

Cousins (and younger siblings if you have any) would sit down and listen to him talk about his missions. He would add some unrealistic stuff that didn’t really happen just so he would make it more entertaining for them. He would show them a scar and tell them how he fought a lion or something lmao. They’d be like:

“WOOOOAH! You fought a tiger AND a lion at the same time!?”

“With bare hands.”

“WITH BARE HANDS!? WOOOOOAH!”

I love the nerf gun part you mentioned. He would definitely end up playing with them for some time. He would teach them how to hold the guns and aim properly lmao. The game would end with him being “shot and defeated” by the kids. Simon laying on the floor pretending he’s dead while the kids are dying from laughter at his goofy death sounds mimicking.

Simon would eat like never before, he would praise your mom’s cooking.

When you’d apologize on your way back home he’d definitely tell you he enjoyed it and that he would come again.

Divider owners already tagged in my previous posts, I don’t want to spam them 🖤

[fruityumbrella]

mwah thank you bree @strawhattery for tagging me in the 20 Qs for fic writers 🥰

how many works do you have on ao3?

11 so far!

what's your total ao3 word count?

161,145 whoa

what are your top five fics by kudos?

piece by quiet piece

bruise (running in circles)

stuck in your throat

empty spaces

sea grain

what fandoms do you write for?

at the moment just one piece, but ive written for mdzs, and have a bunch of ideas/scenes for given too

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

yesssss always, its my fave thing to do! i love hearing what parts of my fic resonated with people, what it made them feel or think about, and which lines were memorable. its so validating as a writer but its moreso just so fun to connect and yap with people about the characters and stories that i love!

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

ha i dont think i have a single angsty ending and i dont think i ever would honestly 😭 im just a big softy i need a happy ending too badly, but lets say 'fics with the most Potential for future angst' and that would probably be the things you dont see, thanks to the uncertainty around sanji's germa awakening

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

theyre all happy but i think empty spaces and stuck in your throat have the sappiest endings (the former ends on a love declaration and the latter is just sooo cheesy sappy stupid i love it so much)

do you get hate on fics?

the only time ive gotten straight up Hate is when someone who hates jiang cheng told me how much they hated jiang cheng on my jiang cheng fic, like damn dude dont you have anything better to do??

speaking of stuck in your throat though lmao that fic has gotten a lot of...contentious comments? of people not really getting the subtext of zoros pov and telling me how much they disliked his character entirely

do you write smut?

almost exclusively atp 🫡 which is insane to me considering that when i wrote piece by quiet piece, i felt so awkward and clumsy even writing a kiss scene

do you write crossovers?

nah it doesnt really interest me

have you ever had a fic stolen?

not to my knowledge!

have you ever had a fic translated?

also no

have you ever cowritten a fic before?

id love to but its too intimidating to me lmao

what's your all time favourite ship?

(guy whos memory is fucked voice) zosan forever

what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

well all of them. i have SO MANY wips, not to mention the rough ideas list too 😭 the one least likely to get finished would def be my marineford au bc its very involved and very heavy which are both difficult for me, and it just requires a LOT of attention unfortch...though it could be soooo good 😔

what are your writing strengths?

i think im quite good at shaping feeling and giving emotions a physicality, as well as settling into a character voice that is distinguishable and distinct in fics with alternating povs

what are your writing weaknesses?

oh god, excess. too much description, too many adjectives, sentences that run on too long, writing minutely altered versions of scenes and not being able to just let go of them and choose one to move forward with...i also strangely feel like dialogue used to be a strength of mine, but ive somehow run out? like i used up all my good banter and dialogue and now im recycling too much 😭

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

id love to be able to incorporate a character's non-english language but i dont trust translation site accuracy enough to be confident in including it in smth i write yknow. that being said, i do want to write some small phrases for sanji in a modern au wip, and hopefully i recall enough basics of french to make it not seem clunky and totally wrong. another reason id love to use another language for dialogue is ao3 has a bunch of cool little options to make including translations really fun and easy and id love to try em out

first fandom you wrote for?

first one i wrote for but didnt publish was unfortunately the boy wizard books, and then i didnt write anything for ten years until i got a dnd oc lmao

favourite fic you've ever written?

oh man....thats so difficult theyre all my babies 😭 but okay i think bruise, for the writing process, it was really exploratory for me and i wrote a lot of content and in ways which were really new for me, and it was just a lot of fun to figure it out!

mwah TWO this was so fun and im gonna tag the few writer buddies i have whom i think havent been tagged yet, as well as anyone else who sees this and wants to share!! @rowdyknives @daerigo @braimin @ghost-maya

[sapphicrot]

ok im hooked. i need more streamer au lore

okay buckle up lol cuz i am boutta YAP. also for reference, these are their designs + “human” names, in descending order of age:

Moon (Kamaria), Suns (Cyra), Sliver (Sylvia), Opportunity (Felicity)

Indigo (no change), Wind (Chase), Sig (Sayani)

PIn (Piper), Yui (no change), Light (Phoebe), Pebbles (Felix)

So the streamer au doesn’t really have a set “plot”, it’s more just taking the iterators’ personalities and dropping them into the human world and letting them loose LOL. ofc there are references to their stories in the game, ie. Pebbles having cancer as a child, piper being a parentified oldest sibling, etc.

Sig, Piper, and Yui are all streamers and e-sports players, and eventually Pebbles joins in on Sig’s streaming shenanigans, either joining in with Sig’s chaos or doing his own streams where he screen records himself drawing. Moon mods Sig’s chat and very occasionally joins streams. Piper does do gaming streams but also does talking streams/GRWM type stuff and prefers doing those if they’re honest, and posts edited versions of the streams to youtube. Yui is pretty much a strictly gaming channel, and but will make appearances in Sig’s streams as they have a bit of a silly rivalry. Sig does have a decently sized fan following that he interacts with pretty frequently. She has done streams where she goes into the goddamn ao3 tag for himself and reads fics LMAO.

Sig, Pebbles, Moon, and Suns all live together in an apartment, and Piper and Yui live together as well (and are fucking BESTIES I’ll gush about that later). Sig met pebbles when she was still attending university, but subsequently dropped out after 1 semester because the whole streaming thing blew up. Pebbles still attends and is getting his B.A in fine arts. Sig met Moon through Pebbles and well. Obv they fell in love aww and then all moved in together. Pebbles met Suns later, they work at the library on campus and are getting their master’s in library sciences. Moon actually has a Real Job™ as a nutritionist and has a whole ass phd. Suns moved in with them after a whole lotta pspspsps-ing from Sig and Pebbles LOL.

Chase is Sig’s childhood best friend, they lived in the same neighborhood and are only a couple months apart in age. He isn’t a streamer and Sig unfortunately moved away for college so they don’t see each other often, but are still very close and have a minecraft world together that they’ve had for like, 7 years.

Yui moved from Korea after doing a semester abroad, but she never really found something she was passionate enough about to pick a major and eventually dropped out. Streaming provides enough income that she only needs a part-time job to make enough to live but it certainly wasn’t the future her or her parents expected of her. She can come off as a bit of a bitch, joking that she’s a “mean lesbian”, but it’s mainly because she feels she constantly has to be on the offensive. Given that she is an immigrant (specifically asian), for whom english is a second language, as well as short, queer, and a woman in a male-dominated space rampant with misogyny (esports), it’s not really a surprise she developed the attitude she has. She has a drive to prove herself but never really feels like she has, though since meeting the others she has become a lot more confident and comfortable with what she’s achieved.

(TW for abuse for this next bit)

Piper met Yui randomly in a coffee shop that was hosting an open mic night, and struck up a conversation with her. To Yui, Piper was the confident, sure of themself, had-it-all-together type of person she wanted to be. In reality they were living out of their car after running away from an abusive home in a conservative town and really, really wanted a fucking friend. Their mom had passed away when they were really young, and being the eldest sibling of 4, they were saddled with the brunt of raising them while their father had to work to make ends meet. He was very strict and at times verbally abusive towards them, and certainly wasn’t going to accept Piper being any kind of queer, pushing masculinity onto them that made them feel completely trapped. The second they turned 18, they threw their shit in the trunk of their car, withdrew every cent from their bank account, and drove off, never looking back. They feel really guilty for leaving their siblings behind in such a toxic environment but are too afraid to reach out to them, as they don’t want anyone to know where they went. They changed their last name to their mother’s maiden name just as a precaution (and because they don’t want to be connected to their father in any way, shape, or form).

(end of TW)

They’re incredibly attached to their car (a dented up white BMW from the 2000s) because it was their escape and their home for quite a while. Yui is completely unaware of all of this until some jackass backs into Pip’s car and busts one of the back taillights, which Piper can’t afford to fix and it sends them into a panic. This is the first time Yui sees Piper break down, sees them cry, and even though she is NOT a touchy person, all she can do is throw her arms around them and hold them while everything just bursts out. She immediately tells them to move in with her (and will NOT take no for an answer), and that’s how they end up living together. Piper is the first person Yui really lets her walls down around after being so hyper-vigilant about her self-image for so long, and they’re incredibly close. Yui was actually the first person Piper ever told to use they/them for them when they introduced themself. They’ve both really helped one another find their place and purpose in the world.

On a MUCH less heavy note LMFAO, Pip’s favorite band is glass animals, they’re really interested in fashion, and lowkey (highkey) a stoner. They share their weed with Pebbles to help him with his chronic pain, and that’s partially how those two get close. Pebbles and Yui also help them learn how to do makeup, since obviously with their upbringing they never had a chance to learn how to do it.

Piper is introduced to Sig (and subsequently Pebbs/Moon/Suns) when they tag along to a competition with Yui. Pebbs and Pip are kinda immediately into each other, but Pebbles is still with his piece of shit boyfriend (we’ll get to that in a second) and the two end up in a kinda terrible on-again-off-again fuck buddies situation that Piper just accepts as “good enough”. I prommy it ends up in a cute healthy relationship eventually but those two gotta FIGHT for it.

Speaking of Pebbles, he’s Moon’s adopted brother, and their parents are doctors. They actually chose to adopt Pebbles because he was sick and they knew they could handle it (both financially and physically), so he’s brought up in a very positive environment and is comfortable enough to come out as trans pretty early in his life. Moon is also incredibly supportive of him and becomes interested in going into the medical field because of both her parents and from helping take care of her brother for so many years. Pebbles has been in remission since he was 12, though has a pretty weak immune system and deals with chronic pain, so whenever he gets sick Moon is…very anxious to say the least. To be honest it’s one of the few times she loses her cool, and if Pebbles so much as has the sniffles she becomes anxious to the point of being unable to sleep and forgets to take care of herself. Sig and Suns practically have to force her to let them take a “shift” of monitoring Pebbles, and unfortunately she’s kinda a nightmare to deal with until Pebbs is better. She doesn’t mean to be this way but there were multiple times in her childhood that she thought she’d wake up without a brother and hasn’t managed to fully process all that.

Pebbles copes with a lot of stuff through art so that’s how he ended up being a fine arts major. He actually draws all the custom emojis for sig’s twitch chat, and they sell them as stickers too. Other than that his favorite thing to draw is just…the small, seemingly insignificant moments of life that he never thought he’d get to see. His final project for one of his classes is a painting of Suns and Sig sitting at the kitchen table in the morning sun, with Sig holding her head up, half-asleep, and Suns hunched over their cup of coffee. He takes a lot of photos too, as references but also just as a hobby. He keeps many of them pinned to a corkboard above his desk in his room.

He’s also a dramatic little emo (bc of course he is) and dyes his (naturally blonde) hair black, and Sig helps on the condition that she is allowed to dye his bangs a different color. It’s usually a peachy pink, but occasionally they choose a different color. Notably, when Pebbs is with his really shitty (ex) boyfriend, they’re dyed blue (hah ha get it like the rot. get it. im soooo good at symbolism). He met the guy at a concert and he’s honestly just a transphobic scumbag. Pebbles breaks up with him like 5 times (…and subsequently goes to Piper for. comfort…), but gets dragged back into the relationship multiple times until he’s complaining about something he did to Sig and it goes. Dude. that is NOT normal. Pebbles then breaks up with him for the final time and when he comes crawling back to try to beg pebbles to get back together, sig punches him in the face when he tries to get into their apartment, and almost ends up with an assault charge lmfao. Honestly if she hadn’t done that moon probably would have committed first degree murder so yknow. Once that dick is out of the picture Pebbs gets the much needed TLC from Suns, Sig, and Piper so it ends up okay in the end

I’ve already yapped at length about suns but yeah, grew up catholic ends up nonbinary with like two and a half boyfriends blah blah. They’re estranged from their parents but Sig’s family (and Moon and Pebbs’) accept them with open arms. Sig’s mom is filipino and speaks to him mainly in tagalog but sig never really picked it up (…aside from swear words…) and responds to her in english. Yui likes to make fun of him for not being bilingual LMAO. When sig visits her family back in the philippines and brings moon and pebbles, the two are really nervous and try to learn at least some tagalog before visiting. This prompts Sig’s cousins to relentlessly make fun of her because THE WHITE BOY KNOWS MORE TAGALOG THAN YOU??? CMON MAN. Whenever Pebbles whips out the fuckin duolingo ass “The apple is on the table” sentences they all cheer as if he just recited shakespeare or some shit. Most of Sig’s cousins are also fluent in english too so moon and pebbles didn’t really have much to worry about. Moon gets along with them but is older than most of them so she didn’t get as close with them, but pebbles hangs out with them daily for the entire time they’re visiting and even keeps up with a couple of them once they go back to america.

Suns also has really bad issues with food (specifically texture), and was really worried about the trip, but Sig’s mom and grandmother both help accommodate them and make their safe foods or find similar things so xe is comfortable. It’s really sweet and xe even learns to cook better from it. Moon and Pebbles’ parents also like Sig and Suns and Moon’s mom does NOT hesitate to whip out the baby pictures. Their dad is also a sweetheart to suns and they play board games together :3

sooo yeah thats all i can think of for rn! i probably left out a bunch of random little anecdotes but its really just. vibes man. they get themselves into goofy shenanigans and are just all kinda living their lives with one another <3 yeah we gave em angst but hey. it ain’t TRAGEDY or anything. uhhhhh here’s more doodles if you made it this far into this ramble i love you

[thehypnone]

Sundown: Chapter 5

and Mushy May '24 Day 5: Animals

WC: 800

Relationship: SwissAlps + PhantomRainDrop

Tags: Transfeminine Mountain, AU; Cowboy!Swiss x Barmaid!Mountain, Sexual Humor, Horse Racing

The feeling of wind in their faces, the rhythm of their horses’ gallops, the immaculate feeling of freedom…that’s something none of them would ever exchange for anything else.

Notes: This one is for day five of @forlorn-crows' Mushy May 2024! The prompt is animals and I had to channel my yearning for horses here lmao

Read chapter 1 here or on AO3.

Read chapter 5 under the cut or on AO3.

Mounty wakes up to something cold and…wet on her chest. Right in the middle of it, just between her tits. She yawns and tries to stretch her arms above her head, only to find out her limbs are trapped by a heavy weight sprawled out on top of her. She opens her eyes and suddenly it all makes sense.

Swiss is laying on her dead asleep, with his head shoved under Mounty’s sleepshirt. His arms are wrapped tightly around her middle and his face is right between her boobs. Drooling.

With the weight and wetness explained, Mounty chuckles and relaxes again. There’s no way she’s moving any time soon with Swiss trapping her like this.

He wakes up not long after, nuzzling his face into the barmaid’s chest and scratching her delicate skin with his stubble.

“Mmm…Momo…” he slurs and Mounty chuckles at her newest nickname; just for when they’re alone and Swiss is all soft on her.

“Good morning, darling. Fancy telling me how you ended up in there?” The barmaid smiles, even though he can’t see it. He can definitely hear it, though, and he sighs as she starts gently scratching his back, too.

“Hmpf…boobies,” he explains.

“Ah, of course,” Mounty chuckles. Now that Swiss has gotten—as he calls it—boobie privileges he doesn’t waste any opportunity to indulge himself. And the barmaid loves him too much, is too soft for him, and so she can never deny him anything.

Still, they have plans for the day, so after just a little bit more snuggling they end up at Rain’s place eating breakfast. Swiss, Mounty, Phantom, Rain, and Dewdrop are all there and even despite the lively conversations taking place, they finish eating quite quickly, ready for the more exciting part of their shared day.

They all get up and go out into the stables where Dewdrop has tacked up everyone’s horses earlier and soon enough one by one they’re climbing on. Rain laughs when Swiss winces when he gets on and sits on the hard saddle, “Mounty’s got you good again?”

Neither the man, nor his girl, answer, but their blushes tell Rain all he needs to know.

“Found out he likes it up the ass and now he can’t get enough, I bet,” Dewdrop throws in and Phantom snorts at it.

“Leave him be,” Mounty says, chuckling, as she looks at Swiss apologetically. He’s hiding a little under the rim of his hat—blushing deeply—but there’s a smile pulling at the corners of his lips.

“Just don't stay behind 'cause you got fucked good last night.” Dewdrop winks at him and his horse whinnies as if in agreement. “That’s it.”

“Sure, sure,” Swiss finally speaks. “You’re just tryna find out if you can win thanks to it.”

“Even Dew isn’t that delusional,” Rain mutters, but it’s still loud enough for all of them to hear. Dewdrop throws him an offended look, but the other just shrugs. He’s got a point.

With a few more laughs and affectionate jokes they get on the road that leads out of the little town and to a few acres of an empty space. It’s perfect for racing.

The way there is just long enough to do some walking and trotting, perfect to warm themselves and their horses up before the near maniacal galloping.

When they reach their racing spot they move to stand in line, ready to run.

“Come on, girlie,” Swiss says to his horse, leaning down over her neck to pat her encouragingly. “You’re my good girl, we ain’t ever gonna lose.”

“Should I be jealous of that horse?” Mounty whispers to Phantom.

“Hard to say,” they giggle under their breath. The both of them shake their heads and laugh, roughly preparing for the race, too.

“Done sweet talking?” Dewdrop calls out. Swiss shows him his middle finger.

But they are all ready, and so Rain begins the count, “Three.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Go!” he yells and it’s immediately overtaken by the horses’ neighs and the booming noise of their hooves hitting the dry ground.

The feeling of wind in their faces, the rhythm of their horses’ gallops, the immaculate feeling of freedom…that’s something none of them would ever exchange for anything else. Each and everyone has it in their blood; they need it to stay alive, to stay sane.

Swiss laughs and the wind is choking him, but he couldn’t care less. He can’t not smile and laugh as he watches Mounty and her mare running side by side with him and Monty. She looks so happy it hurts, and Swiss never wants to see her less than so.

He doesn’t care much about Rain, Phantom, and Dewdrop all running just behind the other two. Or anything other than his girl, really.

They are all free and there’s nothing else that matters.

[jensthwa]

mountebank chem pt. four teaser+moodboard (JYH x reader).

this mini series is part of the love's an uncharted path universe ★.

status: wip (i still have a bit to go, sorry ya'll). chapter title: i love you, i'm sorry. word count (so far, more to go): 15.8k teaser word count: 1.2k posted: 01/26/2025 taglist: @kyunlov, @tinyelfperson, @ultrapinkvoidbouquet, @kyeomooniee, @fairylover68, @sushiinmidnight, @qveenbunni, @potatomountain, @svintsandghosts, @blue5ummer, @fancypeacepersona, @hyukssunflower, @i-love-ateez, @alsomimi, @e3ellie, @st3ft0n3s, @hotteokkay

notes: hey everyone... how ya'll doing... OKAY, SO. I've been writing like crazy these past couple of days and I explained it in a post before but I just want to let everyone know that I'm a little busy with life, finding a remote stable job (or a job at all at this point) is a little hard, especially when the only thing you do succesfully is being a writer lmao. so I've been focusing on that instead of this but!!! I'm almost done with this chapter. I do think we're getting a chapter five, a shorter one, just to kind of explain how everything goes after the end of chapter four and that's going to be cooking as soon as this chapter goes live! ANYWAY. I wanted to give you all a little teaser that covers a little of what's to come in this one. it's my favorite one so far, too, so I'm really looking forward to you reading it!

remember that I have a permanent taglist form! that way, i can tag you in all my future works <3 also, if you'e reading this on the tags, here's my main masterlist and the mbc!masterlist if you want to catch up!

thank you all for being so patient and into the teaser we go.

Making a mental list to organize and prioritize everything you need to do, you barely register footsteps echoing in the long hall. You should’ve, because it’s lunchtime and there’s no one on the floor, but you don’t. 

And so when the person you least want to see comes through the door and lets out a heavy sigh, you turn to him like he grew a second nose over the course of the twenty minutes you last saw each other. 

“I hate it here, I truly do.” 

It almost makes you want to laugh, but you remain stoic as you move through the office. You take a few boxes and you put them down on the floor until there’s some light leaking through the window and illuminating the space enough for it not to give you a headache as you work. 

Sitting on your brother's chair, barely sparing him another glance before turning on the desk computer and pulling up an empty document. You click and tap a few meaningless things: You pick the font, you mess with the font size for a second before setting it back to its default. Anything to help you look busy and not like your heart is going a million miles per second. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” 

Blurry, in the background, you can see him look around the office, probably taking the mess in. He moves too, walks until his expensive shoes are tip to tip  with a literal mannequin resting against the wall. 

You stop paying attention as you write the date and the proposal title. Something simple, something that both your father and the CEO of the dumb not-approved-by-you company that has you in this predicament can understand. You hate to say that you assume they’re not very smart if they put out such a dated and non profitable idea for their company. 

Still, you try to address Yunho like nothing’s bothering you and like you’re not nervous you two are in a room alone after everything that went down. 

“You can ask Seonghwa what that means,” you start, sighing like his friend and your brother are hopeless. Because maybe that’s what they are. “They’re not running any ideas by me even though I’m the one that spends the most time in this office, so.” 

“Hm,” he starts and you can hear him walking around, but your focus is now on the first few words of the proposal. You realize there’s really nothing you can start before speaking with marketing and so you open the notes app, to have a list of ideas to run through them at least. “Thought you worked from home.” 

“I do. I have an office three floors down, too.” It’s easy sharing information with him now, especially if it means there’s something to talk about that’s not… Well, the kiss. “I hate it, it’s in a corner and people can see into it. It’s easier to work here.” 

“And Soohyun hyung doesn’t mind?”

“Considering he’s never here, I doubt it.” 

“Cool, cool.” 

There’s something in his tone that makes you want to look up, lump in your throat growing in size enough for you to cough it away. You don’t look up, you can’t look up even if you’ve misspelled the word rebrand like four times already. 

But then the light you managed to cast onto the space disappears completely. You feel something besides you, the soft material of an expensive suit blazer grazing your arm and cheek. You see veiny, masculine hands secure themselves around the arms of the chair before he’s turning you to face him. 

You gulp. 

He’s leaning down close, closer than he should be, closer than what he’s allowed to be considering anyone can walk in on you. You’re flushing, you can feel the redness creep up your neck and heating your ears and face before you gather the courage of raising a questioning brow. Yunho stays silent, his eyes scanning your face and briefly landing on your lips before returning your stare. 

“Can I help you with anything, Yunho?” You ask him again, quieter this time, voice trembling a little. 

“Princess,” he starts, the corner of his lip raising just a little, like it’s funny he has to say what he’s about to say, “are you ghosting me?” 

Shit. 

“Why would you— Why would I—,” a nervous chuckle abandons you and then you huff, trying to seem offended at his accusation, “W-what do you mean by that?” 

Leaning into your space a tiny bit more, he repeats “Are you ghosting me?” 

Creasing your brow, you straighten in the chair but do nothing to pull him away “No.”

“Then what about the ten messages I sent you and you left on delivered?” 

Faking a surprised gasp, you move to take your phone out of the pocket of your jacket and unlock it to swipe through your messages “You did? Oh, my God, I’ve been soooo busy.” 

“You’re shit at lying to me.” 

“I’m not lying to you—” 

“Are you okay?” 

Your eyes snap from the phone to his face, genuine annoyance creasing your eyebrows this time. 

“You don’t have to ask me that everytime you see me, Jeong.” 

“But are you?” He asks as you finally find his chat and open the messages you dreaded to see the entire time that passed. There’s a few of them practically begging you to speak to him, one apologizing for the kiss and the other ones you don’t even see because Yunho is taking the phone from your hand and placing it on the desk next to you. “I mean, what happened didn’t trigger anyth—” 

You hate he’s this considerate with you, even after you clearly walked out of the situation with a poorly formulated excuse.

“What happened was a mistake.” 

Yunho physically deflates and lets the chair go, the tension on your shoulders lifting a little now that he’s not as close. 

“What?” 

“It was a mistake, we shouldn’t have done that. We’re professionally obligated to work together, fake all of this together, so it shouldn’t…” You pause and consider for a bit before doing something you never do: take the blame “I shouldn’t have. I apologize.” 

Letting out a breath, you turn the chair and delete the misspelled rebrand to write it the correct way, heart too weak to even look at his reaction. It doesn’t matter anyway, you’re never doing anything like it again. 

You hear him shuffle with the boxes at both your feet and, from the corner of your eye, you see him turning away from you and then back, hands on his hips “I don't think it was a mistake.” 

“Well, it was.” 

“I liked it.” 

That brings out a genuine, short lived laugh out of you “Thank you, I’m a great kisser.” 

You open your brother’s email and pretend there’s an urgent matter inside the contents of one of them until Yunho’s hand closes over yours, over the mouse. 

“Y/N.” 

There’s a lot of things about Jeong Yunho you hate: The swoop of his hair when there’s no gel on it, the free aspect to his nature you’re never going to get even if you try to, that one time he called you an ugly giant after wearing platforms for the first time ever. 

And the sweetness of his voice when he says your name, the plea you hear on it and the shudder it brings to your spirit. It shakes you, it moves you to look at him again, to actually take his feelings into consideration. 

He’s staring at you with so much hurt, it makes your heart sink into an abyss of guilt. 

“Hm?” 

“I think I like you.” 

Oh.

Well, well, well... If it isn't the enemy turning into a potential lover time. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING THE TEASER. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated!

© jensthwa, 2025.

[oof-owch-so-many-spoilers]

oh cees oh geez I'm making that my oc tag, lol.

👁

I see y'all chit-chatting about OCs, so I suppose I could spill a little, lol. These are all still very much huge work-in-progresses, so bear with me.

Andradite Non-hatchling Hearthian OC.

This one's the self-insert. I wanted something that had a relation to my birthstone (garnet) but not necessarily the classic deep red the gem is known to be. I have a reference sheet that's still very much unfinished, but basically:

fairly short (like Feldspar or Gossan height), but thick-set around the hips (think: thunder thighs, rectangle/pear-ish body shape)

gardening is fun! (except when it's the bramble seed) will tear less-offensive weeds up with their bare hands, not afraid to get sand and dirt absolutely everywhere (might ick a little bit at mud/slimy textures, though)

scared of heights and the responsibilities that come with piloting vehicles, so was never going to be part of the space program... but will absolutely float around in the zero-g cave and bodies of water for fun and relaxation (catch them zonking on the path under the village waterfall -- no it is not loud, it's just loud enough to drown out everyone and everything else thank you very much!)

still hardcore thinking on clothing, but I'm definitely wanting: thick wooly socks that fold over at the ankles, slip-on shoes (think: moccasins), and a sweatshirt that's overlong in the arms but not the torso (hide hands in sweater arms when chilly) -- rest is kinda up in the air

Steatite

The token Hatchling OC.

They're just Soapstone, lmao. I originally landed on this name for when I did an Archipelago randomizer run. (Which was absolutely hilarious. I randomized practically everything I could. I struggled to get the travelers' signals for the longest time, though. Gabbro's ended up being in the fuckin' VESSEL of all places -- pretty sure it finally unlocked when I got the broken adv. warp-core log. 😂) I'm actually rather happy with the name I landed on, though, and feel like it's fairly fitting for someone that didn't have a blind experience for the base game. Kinda blank and bland, but still willing to carve out their own path despite it all. Malleable.

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

I also would like to make Nomai and Pursuer (Owlk) OCs in the future, but I'd really prefer to flesh out these two first.