#i remember you promised our home was going to be safe and warm and we would communicate even when its hard what happened to those promises?

[sick-as-a-dog]

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[jarofstyles]

Pressing Questions

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WC- 4.4k

Warnings- exhibitionism, slight breeding kink, completely cute n flirty babies, husband x wife kink???

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“Hey, husband?” 

“Yes, Wife?” It sounded so good coming from their lips. It made her borderline giddy as she looked over at him to find him already looking over at her. The flush she felt in her cheeks bled down to her chest. They were finally fucking married. 

“What made you decide you were marrying me?” Y/N asked as she lounged next to him. Their honeymoon in full swing, Harry had rented out a cabana with a daybed so he could cuddle up to her on the beach and Y/N was positive now that it was definitely one of many things he had up his sleeve. The aesthetic had been perfect to her Pinterest board, but she had a feeling Harry knew that.

Roses in the room, champagne upon arrival, brand new swimwear just for her… she had been absolutely spoiled since they landed. Just like he promised. 

The warm air flowed over their forms, her head resting on her bent arm as the other held the fruity cocktail she had drunk an embarrassing amount of in the last three days. Some kind of coconut and lime thing that had her feeling more giggly than she could remember being in most of her adult life, but she was safe here. Safe with Harry, just like she had been dreaming of. 

 Harry chuckled and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to his chest. He traced a lazy circular pattern on her bare hip with his fingertips as he spoke, his voice low and deep. Slightly hushed, keeping it intimate. Just the way she liked it. It was like he was fine tuned to appear to each and every thing she found attractive- or somehow managed to make everything he did appeal to her. Either way, she felt her tummy flutter. 

"Darling, is this a trick question? Do you really think I only have one reason to marry you?”  Her husband acted like it was a ridiculous question but pressed a kiss to her forehead, giving her an answer regardless.  "You’re beyond beautiful, the funniest person I’ve ever met, smart as a tack... and you put up with all my ridiculous bullshit. All of those cliche reasons and more. Not t’mention you dealing with my insane schedule and giving me your honest opinions whenever I ask, even if they’re a little sassy.” Giving her a look, he got the laugh he wanted out of her before tilting his head in question. “Why wouldn’t I marry you?”

“I dunno, I just feel like…. I mean, I know I’m a catch.” She smirked, giving him a wink that she immediately regretted. At least she could be cringey with him and he would find it endearing. Her winks were not nearly as cute as his were.  “But was there a singular moment that you knew you were going to keep me?” His touch always did make her melt. 

Harry, ever the touchy and slightly clingy boyfriend- nay, husband-, couldn’t keep his hands off of her before they got married but… compared to this trip? Y/N was genuinely unsure there was a single moment without him with his touch somewhere on her body. It had been a little shocking at first but every single moment made her feel more addicted to the fingertips pressing into her, arms pulling her into his body or the lips ghosting her skin. The real problem would be when they got home and she couldn’t just have this on tap. 

Harry let out a deep breath, shifting to roll onto his side and propping his head up with his hand as he took in her beauty. The sun was giving her skin a warm, golden glimmer, and it took all his willpower not to pounce on her at that very moment and take her right there in the cabana.

"You want one singular moment, huh?" He hummed, pretending to think about it as his fingertips continued their slow path tracing her body. "There was this one time..."

Her breathing caught in her throat as his fingers took a lazy trail over her body. Harry had this way about him that had made her a little nervous with how attentive his gaze was, but even so… she loved that feeling. Like he was always clinging onto her last word. Even as her husband, he seemed to use this power to his advantage. 

“Mmm?” She asked, tossing back the final bit of her drink before fiddling with the cute little paper umbrella. “What time?”

His lips curled up into a small, smug smirk as he watched her react to his touch. He loved the power he had over her, the way his fingers seemed to make her breathless and her eyes got a little hazy. The way her body subconsciously arched into his touch.

Harry moved his hand from her hip, slowly tracing it up her side and over her ribcage, his touch so light that it almost tickled.  "It was very early on," he said, his voice low and husky. "We were at my place, just hanging out. You were wearing this… little fucking tank top." The way he said it made her know that he was thinking about that tank top to this day. Flattering, even if she couldn’t place the moment he was talking about.

She had to wrack her brain for a moment, trying to remember which day it was that he was referring to. The beginning days had been slightly hazy considering their romance had gone from tentative flirtation to a whirlwind as soon as the sexual dam had broken. 

“Which tank top?” 

Harry's smile grew wider as he saw her trying to remember. It was something he could never forget. "It was that little pink one, with the sexy little bit of lace at the neckline. Lacy straps, too," he said, his voice taking on a slightly dreamy tone as the memory played in his head. "It was so teeny tiny that I could see your bra through it..." Moving closer to her, his hand moved lower on her body, tracing over the soft, sensitive skin of her stomach. He knew exactly how he was affecting her. It was considered a bit of payback for said tank top.

"And those shorts you had on... so short that I could see your hips and legs… and the bottom of your bum when you moved the right way? Mm, I think you’ve always been so cruel with teasing me, baby.” The man obviously loved it though. There was no hiding that from her. 

Despite it being a private beach, Y/N felt the flutter of both fear and anticipation as he flirted with her so blatantly. Recalling a time she could definitely remember now, a movie night at his place where she had worn a matching pajama set that wasn’t outright sexy but… definitely was known to show off her body.

“Ohhhh. That one.” She grinned. “Seeing me in that made you know you were gonna marry me? Perv.”

“Hey now, I just appreciate beauty when I see it.” Harry countered with a laugh, acting slightly affronted as if his hand wasn’t now resting just over the waistband of her bikini. “So sue me for thinking y’looked incredible.”

 Moving even closer to her, his body pressed against hers as his lips brushed against her ear. His voice was sultry as he spoke, a little kiss pressed right underneath it.  “And I distinctly remember you wearing that little outfit just to drive me absolutely wild, you little minx. You can’t even deny it now. I know how that pretty head of yours works.”

Y/N snickered at the call out, knowing he was very much correct. She had done it to test him, to see how much he was willing to put up with back in the day, what would make him tick. He may call it teasing, but she called it an experiment for scientific research. 

“You are such a flirt today.” She took a moment to put the glass down before facing him again, carding her fingers through his wavy hair. The sea air did something to it that made her even more attracted to him, something she hadn’t realized possible until she had seen it herself. “But keep the memories coming.” Aka the compliments. She felt loved up and was very much in the mood to hear more. “What else did you think?”

Harry's eyes darkened slightly as her fingers ran through his hair. He loved it when she touched him like that, it sent shivers down his spine, making him want to lean into her like an eager pup awaiting pets. 

"Other things that cemented it?" He murmured, his hand on her hip giving her a gentle squeeze.  “There’s loads. Mm… I’d have t’say, the way you'd get all flustered when I teased you. The way you'd get all sarcastic and bratty when I annoyed you. How you were so confident and fiery, but at the same time so shy and sweet..." he trailed off, knowing he could go on for hours and hours when it came to what he loved about her. It was hard to get him to shut up about it, actually. 

“So you like when I’m bratty. That’s what I’m hearing.” She giggled, teasing him slightly despite him scolding her for it prior. “I think my moment was when you set up that whole thing on Valentine’s Day. Cause god knows you’ve got all the money in the world but you knew I hate fancy restaurants so you did like… the whole blanket fort thing. With the charcuterie board and champagne.” The dreamy sigh left her lips. It had stuck with her every day since. He may not even realize how important it had been for her, but Harry was the first person she’d dated who had ever made her feel that special. 

“You listened to me when I said what I liked. You got my favorite movie lined up and made me sweet and salty popcorn like I like. You even remembered you popped the wrong one and told me to wait and… I dunno.” She shrugged with her shy smile lighting up her face. “I knew I’d never find anyone else like you.”

Harry's gaze softened as she spoke, warmth spreading through his chest as she described his absolute favorite Valentine's Day. He hadn't known at the time it had been such a pivotal moment for her, but now it made perfect sense. His wife was sentimental that way. Something personal meant way more than the clothes he had bought her, or the house he’d got for them. His thoughts were everything to her.

He gave her a tender look, shaking his head, fingers tracing a gentle path along her arm. It was impossible to keep his touch from her, and he didn’t feel like trying. "You mean when I accidentally burned the salted popcorn?" He winced at the memory. It was a weird thing he always thought about, but in his defense the smell had been pretty bad. Thankfully he had air freshener on hand, though apple cinnamon didn’t exactly mask burnt popcorn. 

"Yeah, sorry about that. I was so focused on making sure everything was just right for you that I didn't pay enough attention to the microwave. Plus, your pretty face was distracting enough. Could barely form a proper sentence.”

The warmth flooded her tummy at the compliment, making her want to kiss him even more. It was held off considering she knew it would most definitely be something that got carried away, but that didn’t stop the urges. “I’ll be honest, I probably would have eaten the burnt popcorn. The fact that you’d even managed to remember those little facts about me had me like… giddy. I hadn’t felt that way about a crush since I was a teenager.” The admission came easily.  There was no shame in how much she loved Harry, even if she did tease him to say he was the clingy one. 

 Another question popped into her head, and considering he seemed happy to talk now that he’d had his beachside nap, she took advantage of it. “Were you nervous to propose?”

Harry's hand moved back and rested on her hip, his fingers rubbing over the soft skin as he answered immediately. 

"Nervous? Oh, absolutely. Fucking terrified, my love. Even though I knew you'd say yes, I was still nervous as hell." He let out a sweet hum,  softly, leaning in closer to her, his lips almost touching her ear as he spoke.  "The most nerve-wracking part was the time between when I proposed and when you actually said yes. It felt like the longest minute of my life..."

“You knew I’d say yes. C’mon, H.” Y/N’s giddy grin made it past her lips. It was weirdly satisfying to know he had been nervous because it meant he had been worried about the prospect of not being with her forever. It had always been her plan to say yes, but still. 

Harry chuckled again, his chest rumbling beneath her head "Yes, darling, I did know that." His hand slid under her chin, gently lifting her head to meet his gaze. How much he loved her was visible in his eyes. She’d never experienced visibly seeing love before him. 

"But that didn't stop me from being nervous. I was just so… desperate for you to say yes, to be mine forever. The thought of even a moment of hesitation..."

He shuddered slightly and his grip on her tightened ever so slightly "It would've killed me."

“Oh, baby.” She cooed, deciding to baby him a little bit. Hearing that vulnerability really did something to her, tangling her fingers into the hair at his nape. “I’ve been yours since you first kissed me. Y’know that?” Y/N had been completely smitten. It was borderline concerning until she had realized he felt the same. “I had the biggest crush on you when we first met. You only continue to get better and better every day.” 

Tossing her leg over her hip, she relaxed into his hold as she gazed over his pretty face. He’d let his stubble grow out a bit, albeit a bit patchy- the look suited him. “You’ve been my husband in my head for a long time. I don’t think I could have ever said no.”

Harry's heart skipped a beat as she spoke. He had always loved it when she got like this, all soft and gentle and sweet on him. It was hard not to be greedy for this sort of affection. The feeling of her tangling her fingers in his hair combined with the press of her body against his had a shiver running down his spine.

"S’That so?" He purred, his voice making her squirm. "Because you’ve been mine since the moment I saw you, darling. You were the most beautiful girl I'd ever seen in my life, and I knew I had to have you. You belong with me, you always have."

The slight possessive speak made her throat thicken, tummy warm, between her thighs throb a little bit. The tenderness in which he spoke had her melting and it had nothing to do with the beachy heat. This was exactly why she knew she had made the perfect choice with him.  Her body knew it was him before her head even did. Her heart? Even before that. “Yeah? I’m yours?” She cooed, brushing her nose against his.

Harry groaned softly as she brushed her nose against his, his eyes falling half-lidded. "Mmm, yeah. You are. You're mine. All mine."

His voice was a low rumble, his grip on her tightening as he spoke. "No one else will ever touch you, darling. You belong to me. I won't ever share you, no part of you is for anyone else but me."

Y/N let out a breathy gasp as his hand skipped over her ass, under the bikini bottom’s to hold bare skin. The flesh was squeezed, heat spreading between her legs as the little grab only managed to make it worse. She couldn’t control it even if she tried. 

“H! There are people around.” She squealed nervously, but didn’t move his hand. The people were far away, the beach not too crowded, but she had to say it. It wasn’t unlike him to grab a feel, but he had no intentions of moving his hand. The man had been insatiable since their wedding night with no sign of stopping. 

Harry gave her a sly simper as his hand squeezed her ass again, kneading lightly. He knew they were technically in public, and he didn't care in the slightest. It was more exciting this way, he loved the danger of being caught, the thrill of almost being seen… he was on his honeymoon with his wife. Nothing else mattered.

"I don't care, darling. They can't see us over here... Besides, we're on our honeymoon. We can do whatever we want." Licking his lower lip as he pulled her closer to him, his voice dropping to a low murmur.

"And right now, I want you."

“Baby…” Y/N’s voice went all syrupy and whimpery as his tongue ran over her jaw, teeth stopping to nibble at her skin. “You’re gonna get me wet. And I’m still a little sore from last night…” 

Her face flushed at the memory of him pounding into her, desperate proclamations of love being panted into the air as he fucked her over and over. That had been intense and her poor body hadn’t fully recovered, but it couldn’t help but react to him. She wasn’t saying no though because… she didn’t want to. A glutton for punishment, maybe, but she craved him. Body, mind and soul. 

Harry's breath hitched as she whimpered, the sound going straight to his already thickening cock. The thought of getting her all riled up here, of making her feel good while hidden away did little but work him up further. Y/N had a master key to his body and just the tiniest noise, movement of word could have him undone at any moment. 

“H…” she whined, feeling his hand slip between them. Finding her already wet, she could feel him groan into her neck as he pressed kisses over her throat. “H- fuck.” 

Her pants did nothing to deter him. The slick sound of his fingers rubbing through her slit before finding her swollen clit was the loudest thing she could hear, over the music in the distance and the crashing waves. “God.. you’re so bad.” And it felt so good.

Her husband’s lips curled up in a lazy grin as his fingers slid effortlessly through the wetness of her cunt. He could hear her gasping quietly with every touch, and he knew she was desperately trying to keep it together. It was his job to undo her. "You love it when I'm bad, darling." He taunted, nipping at her neck. With a voice low and needy he continued whispering in her ear.  "See.. I think you love it when I'm naughty. Think that you want me to touch you, to slip my fingers over your needy cunt and make you feel good. Y’want that, don’t you baby?” 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned her head back, letting his mouth mark up her throat. It felt too good to stop him, and her body was aching for it. This was what a honeymoon was for. Wasn’t it?  

“Uh-huh.” She nodded. There was no use protesting when this was what she wanted anyway. “Just be gentle, please.” 

Harry hummed in agreement, his fingers still gently teasing her as he continued to mark up her throat. 

"Don't worry, baby, I'll be gentle. I'll take care of you, just like I always do." His free hand came up to cup her cheek, guiding her face up to look him in the eyes. 

"Just relax, my sweet girl, and let me make you feel good."

Her shaky breathing was only made worse as he made her look him in the eye as he pleasured her. The slick movement of his fingertips where she was swollen from his constant licking and rubbing and sucking had her head swimming, sensitive from the use she had been experiencing- but god, did she love it. 

She knew he was feeling even more worked up now that she was his wife officially, and he was letting her feel that. “You always make me feel s-so good.”

Harry's groan caught in his throat as he watched her, her eyes half-lidded and hazy with pleasure. He fucking loved seeing her like this, all flushed and breathless because of him. His fingers toyed with her still, slow and gentle as he tried to make himself wait. "Good, because I love making you feel good… S’my favorite thing."

He pressed a few kisses to her cheek, his nose skimming over her skin as he moved to whisper into her ear. It sent shivers over her body, hard to keep herself from losing it as he touched her, practiced and knowing exactly where to taunt.

"You're so damn perfect, darling. My perfect, pretty little wife, letting me do filthy things to you. Love you so much."

Her hips rocked in time with his fingers, eyes closing for a moment as he kissed her neck again before whispering in her ear. When he gripped her chin again, he made her watch his face as he slowly sunk a finger into her. It wasn’t difficult given how soaking wet her poor pussy was, but she still felt the stretch. It was hard not to when they were that thick. 

A high pitched whine was cut off as she bit her lip, face contorting slightly as she felt him begin to move it. “It’s not f-fair, how easily you can… you can make me feel crazy.”

Harry hummed as he watched her face twist with pleasure, his finger still lazily pumping in and out of her. Feeling the walls clench around him and slick up his finger, he couldn’t get enough of her.  "Mmm, I know, darling. I know everything that drives you insane. I know all your sensitive spots, where you like to be touched, how you like it when I talk dirty to you..."

 Leaning in and biting down gently on her earlobe, his voice a deep murmur in her ear. "And I love that I'm the only one who knows those things."

“Mhm, the only one. You’re the only one.” She agreed vehemently. The pleasure was smooth and slow, building up as the slick sound of his finger being inside of her made it even more hot. “And you’re the only one who’s gonna put a baby in me too.” 

Y/N knew just how crazy that sort of talk made him, discovered it not too long ago, and she was aware she was playing with fire. She knew that, and yet she continued. 

Harry let out a deep, loud groan at her words, the sound almost feral. If anyone was nearby it would give them away, but he frankly didn’t give a fuck. He loved it when she talked like that, so shameless and filthy. Meeting him where he was at. It was no secret that he had been on a mission this trip, but Y/N knew what she did to him when she brought it up. His free hand dug into her cheek, gripping her tightly as his finger curved inside her, pressing into the slick, spongy walls. 

"Yeah? You want me t’get you pregnant, little darling?" His breath came out in huffed pants as his control started to slip a little. A button being pushed, almost all the way down. “Want me t’knock you up? Think we should try again… If you want that.” The memory of him pulling his cock out to watch the creamy mix slip out of her cunt before pushing back in to keep some plugged up into her the night prior came rushing back. 

That was exactly what he was craving. 

“Yeah, I want to… I want you to do it on this trip. Please? Wanna make you a daddy.” She keened, knowing they had little time at the beach left. He was going to lose control soon, and that had been her quickly executed plan.

Harry's control completely snapped at her words. He let out a low, guttural moan, his grip on her cheek firm as he laid a deep kiss on her mouth, licking into it and feeling her desperate kiss returned before he pulled back with a grunt and wet lips. She was ethereal, even in filthy situations like this. With beachy hair and bleary eyes, swollen mouth and the golden glow of the setting sun on her skin. Every day, every moment served as a reminder as to why he was so lucky to have her.

“God, you drive me fucking insane, darling. Y’know exactly what to say to get me all worked up, huh?" It was clear he couldn’t take it anymore. Y/N had hit her intended target, and he couldn’t be out here any longer because he would definitely get caught with a public indecency charge. Fingering was one thing, but the things he wanted to do to her? They needed privacy. 

He withdrew his finger, his voice a gruff whisper as he spoke into her ear. "Get up. Now.” 

A cry of loss left her swollen lips as he stood up, not caring at all about the bulge in his pants. He grabbed the beach bag, tossing it over his arm and surprised her as he tossed her over his shoulder too. 

“Harry!” She squealed. “H- oh my god. You caveman!” He walked towards the villa with her tossed over his shoulder, like she weighed nothing. Like the blatant show of strength wouldn’t make her even more aroused. 

Her husband chuckled at her protest, his hand coming down across her ass to give her a sharp smack. "Hush, wife. I said I'd take care of you, and that's exactly what I'm doing."

[holylulusworld]

Fulfillment - Flufftober 19

Summary: Dean finally lives the life he deserves and dreamed of.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Wife!Reader

Side pairing: Sam Winchester x Eileen Leahy

Warnings: pregnancy, fluff, overprotective Dean, implied smut, cuddling & snuggling, Dean is a horny dog, a hint of dirty talk and dirty fantasy

Rating: Teen

Idea by: @elle14-blog1

Trope: Pregnancy

@warmandfluffybingocards: Square 16: Breakfast in bed   

@anyfandomgoesbingo: Square 7: Decorating the nursery

Kinktober vs Flufftober 2023

Your last battle was the day Dean told you he loves you. He didn’t want to waste another moment without having you in his arms.

Chuck, or God if you want to call that jackass so, fell without glory.

Jack went to heaven, and Castiel accompanied him to make sure no one tried to abuse the young man’s powers ever again.

Since that day, you have been living a normal life.

While everyone else dreams of a more exciting life, you are happy to have a normal and boring life.

While you turned your back on the hunter’s life, you turned the bunker into a warm and cozy home. (We don’t talk about the room where Dean stored all the weapons.)

Only because you stopped hunting doesn’t mean Dean doesn’t act like an overprotective bodyguard when it comes to you. You’re his wife, the future mother of his children, and the reason to keep on going for him.

“Sweetheart,” Dean pokes his head inside the kitchen. “No…no!” He tuts. “I told you; I’m going to make breakfast.” Your husband watches you run one hand over your grown belly while stuffing a pickle into your mouth.

“I’m having cravings,” you chew audibly while your husband makes a fuss. He doesn’t want you to leave your bedroom or the bed. If it was up to Dean, he’d wrap you in a dozen blankets and never let you leave the bed again. “And no one is going to attack us here.”

“You don’t know that” your husband argues. He steps inside the kitchen and wraps his arms around you, making you groan. “I need to keep you safe and happy.”

“Last night you made me very happy.”

Dean snickers as he remembers the way you were writhing on his cock.

“I remember you were a begging mess, Y/N. Loud and naughty. Just the way I like you.”

“Dean, we can’t make out in the kitchen again. Sammy will kill us,” you whine as your husband kisses down your neck. “I mean it, baby. We can’t get caught again.”

“But getting caught is half the fun,” Dean laughs in your neck, making you giggle. “Alright. If you are a good girl and go to our bedroom to lie down, I’ll make you the best breakfast you ever ate. I promise it’s not my dick.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Mr. Winchester. You’re a very naughty man,” you chuckle as he whispers dirty nothings in your ear. “If you don’t want to end up getting caught by your brother and Eileen, we better go back to our bedroom.”

“Sex before breakfast. I knew you were the one…” He hums in your neck. “But after you’ll eat all the delicious things I’ll cook for you…”

“A red rose, and food, huh,” Sam watches his brother carry a tray filled with breakfast and a single red rose out of the kitchen. “Did you leave some food for us?”

“Sure, Sammy,” Dean grins. “My wife needs the food. I wore her out.”

Sam shakes his head. Sometimes his brother has no shame…or like ever. “Luckily she’s already pregnant or you’d get her pregnant.”

“Who says I won’t get her pregnant again?” Dean chuckles. “We are having twins. Next time, I’ll fill her with triplets.”

“What do you say? Will she like it?” Dean shows his brother and Eileen the U-shaped pregnancy pillow he got for you. He has it draped over his shoulder to show it to Sam. “It’s good for the babies and her, right?”

Eileen smirks as her brother-in-law excitedly tells them about all the things he bought for you and the babies.

“It’s nice of you to get the pillow,” she finally says. Dean looks adorable with all the stuffies tugged under his arm. “What do you want to do with the rest?” She questions.

“While Y/N is having a nap, I’m going to decorate the nursery. We are almost done, but she’s a little under the weather this week. I’ll finish it and show her everything when she feels better.”

“Do you need help?” Sam offers willingly. “We are going finish the nursery faster if we work together.”

“Are you sure, Sammy?”

Sam flashes his brother a smile. “Well, I’m counting on your help when we are having triplets…”

“I love the pillow,” Dean states as you and your husband lie on the bed, the pregnancy pillow wrapped around your bodies. “They were right. It’s perfect for snuggling and cuddling.”

You grin as Dean moves impossibly closer to hide his face in your neck. “I heard you finished the nursery.”

“Sammy and Eileen helped. If there’s something you do not like, blame Sammy.”

“I know that I’ll love it,” you mumble sleepily. “Just like I love you.”

“I love you too, sweetheart, and the little beans,” he whispers in your ear while moving one hand to your belly. “I’ll always protect you and our babies. Always.”

Tags in reblog.

[bunnist4rz]

A PERFECT DAY AT THE BEACH; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; On a beautiful beach day, you and Gojo savor ice cream as the sun sets, enjoying the peacefulness of the moment. As you stroll along the shore, you reminisce about your first visit and share sweet conversations that deepen your bond. Gojo expresses his appreciation for the day, and a tender kiss solidifies your feelings for each other. After returning home, you create a loving note for Gojo, who wakes to a beautiful morning filled with promise. Together, you embrace the day ahead, knowing that every moment spent together is a cherished memory in your love story. word count; 2.5k content; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, set in canon au, fluff very silly guys, introvert/extrovert a/n; Hi guys :33 sorry for like going on hiatus for like a week ive just been like battling a illness and i couldnt write 🙁🙁 but i hope this makes up for it!!

The sun was setting, painting the sky with strokes of vibrant oranges and pinks that mirrored the color of our melting ice cream. You had spent the entire day playing in the waves and lounging in the sand, and now you were enjoying the sweet finale of our beach escapade. The coolness of the ice cream was a stark contrast to the warmth of the sand beneath you, and the sound of the waves was like a gentle lullaby, soothing my nerves.

Gojo's arm was around your shoulder, and you felt safe, protected from the whispers of the world that didn’t matter anymore. You took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of his sunscreen and the faint hint of saltwater from his hair. "Isn't this the perfect end to the day?" you mused, leaning into his embrace.

He smiled, his eyes reflecting the fiery horizon. "It really is. I can't think of anywhere else I'd rather be."

The beach was slowly emptying, families collecting their things and children being herded towards the parking lot. The air grew cooler as the sun dipped lower, leaving behind a trail of fire across the water.

As we finished our ice creams, you felt a sense of contentment wash over you. You looked into Gojo’s eyes and saw the same happiness reflected there. His thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray drop of melted chocolate. “Let’s take a walk before we go,” he suggested, standing up and offering a hand.

"Sure," you replied, taking his hand. "I'd love that."

You took it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. Your bare feet sank into the cool sand as you strolled along the shoreline, the waves playing tag with your toes. "Remember the first time we came here?" you asked, a nostalgic smile on your face.

Gojo chuckled, the sound mingling with the ocean breeze. "How could I forget? You tried to build the biggest sandcastle and ended up burying me instead."

You laughed, the memory bringing warmth to your heart. "I guess some things never change."

The horizon was a canvas of color, the light dancing on the surface of the water like a million shimmering jewels. It was a moment of pure magic, unmarred by the troubles that waited for us beyond the beach.

As you walked, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of peace settling in your chest. Gojo’s hand was firm in yours, a constant reminder that you were not alone. "You know," you began, your voice soft, "today really meant a lot to me. Thank you for bringing me here."

He squeezed your hand gently. "Anything for you. Seeing you happy makes me happy."

The waves grew quieter as the sun disappeared, the sky darkening into a velvet curtain studded with stars. The beach was almost empty now, save for a few lingering couples and the occasional night fishermen setting up their rods. The sound of the ocean was a rhythmic lullaby, and the cool evening breeze whispered sweet nothings in your ears.

You stopped walking, letting the waves kiss your ankles as you gazed into the horizon. Gojo stood behind you, his chest pressed against your back, his arms wrapping around your waist. His breath was warm on your neck as he leaned in to whisper, “Thank you for today. I needed this more than I realized.”

You leaned back into him, feeling his warmth and strength. “Thank you for making sure I felt like I belonged here with you,” you said, your voice soft.

He pulled you closer, his embrace tightening. “You always do. No matter where we are, you’re my home.”

The stars began to twinkle, their light bouncing off the gentle waves. It was a moment frozen in time, a memory you’d hold onto tightly when the world grew stormy. But for now, you had the beach, the stars, and Gojo.

And it was enough.

You turned in his arms, looking up at him with a smile that spoke volumes of your affection. "You know, I was worried today might not go well with everything that's been going on."

Gojo’s eyes softened. "I know you've been feeling overwhelmed. I'm glad we could take this time together."

His eyes searched yours, as if trying to read the story of your soul. In that moment, everything was silent except for the whispers of the ocean and the pounding of your hearts. He leaned down, and you closed your eyes, feeling his lips brush against yours in a gentle kiss that seemed to hold all the love in the universe.

When you broke away, breathless and smiling, Gojo took your hand once again. The stars had taken over the sky, casting a soft glow over the beach, making everything seem otherworldly and perfect. The sand was cool underfoot, but the warmth between you two was enough to keep you from shivering.

"Come on," Gojo whispered, pulling you towards the shoreline. "Let's make this night last a little longer."

Walking hand in hand, you found yourselves lost in a silent conversation, one that didn’t need words to convey the depth of your feelings. The sound of the waves was your music, the stars your spotlight, and the beach was your dance floor. You spun around, laughing, letting the breeze twirl your hair as Gojo watched you with a fond smile.

As the night grew cooler, you decided to head back to the car. Your feet left footprints in the damp sand, a trail of moments that would soon be washed away by the tide. "I don't want tonight to end," you confessed softly.

Gojo glanced back at you, his eyes reflecting the moonlight. "It doesn't have to. We can come back anytime."

In the quiet of the evening, as you drove home, you felt a sense of tranquility settle in your heart. The whispers of the beach and the warmth of Gojo’s hand on your leg reminded you that love isn’t about grand gestures or fighting off competition. It’s about moments like these, when the world faded away, and all that mattered was the two of you, the salt air, and the promise of forever.

The car’s headlights pierced through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead. You leaned your head against the seat, watching the world pass by. Gojo’s hand found yours again, and you squeezed it tightly. "Tonight was perfect," you whispered.

He nodded, his thumb gently stroking your knuckles. "Every moment with you feels like a dream."

You knew that no matter what tomorrow brought, tonight was a treasure, a memory to hold onto when the storms of life raged.

And as the beach grew smaller in your rearview mirror, the horizon a line of fading light, you felt a surge of hope. Because with Gojo by your side, you could face any challenge, conquer any fear, and create a future as beautiful as the sunset you had just witnessed.

The story of your love was still being written, with every kiss, every shared laugh, and every quiet moment of understanding. And as the stars twinkled above, you realized that sometimes, the simplest days could be the most profound, leaving an imprint on your soul that no amount of time could ever erase.

The drive home was filled with the same easy conversation and occasional bouts of silence that you had come to cherish.

As the car rolled to a stop outside your apartment, the world felt a bit brighter, a bit warmer than it had when you had left that morning.

You stepped out of the car, the cool evening air kissing your skin, and took a deep breath. The scent of salt and the sea still clung to your hair, a reminder of the day’s adventure. Gojo opened the trunk, grabbing your bags with a yawn. “I can carry yours too, if you want,” he offered, his eyes sparkling in the dim light of the streetlamp.

You smiled, shaking your head. “I’ve got it,” you said, taking your bag. The weight of the day’s memories felt good in your arms. As you approached the building, you could feel the exhaustion tugging at the edges of your consciousness, but the happiness from your time at the beach was a balm to your soul.

Inside, the quiet hum of the elevator was the only sound as you ascended to your floor. When the doors slid open, Gojo leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a soft, lingering kiss. “Thank you for an amazing day,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble in the stillness.

You stepped into the apartment, the warmth of the lights a comforting embrace. "It's been a perfect day," you whispered back.

Gojo followed, his eyes scanning the room with a fondness that made you realize just how much he enjoyed the simple moments with you. The mess of shoes by the door, the pile of discarded clothes from your quick change, it was all part of the story of your life together.

With the windows thrown open, the sound of the distant waves seemed to follow you into the apartment. You watched as Gojo shed his wet swimsuit, his muscles flexing as he moved with an easy grace that never failed to make your heart race. "Need any help?" you teased, reaching out to trace the patterns of sand on his skin.

He laughed, the sound resonating in the room. "I think I’ve got it from here."

But you couldn’t resist, moving closer to him. "Not if you want some help."

He chuckled, leaning into your touch. "Alright, but only if you promise to make it quick."

But first, there was the promise of a hot shower to wash away the salt and sand. You stepped into the steaming water, letting it cascade over your body like a gentle embrace. As you washed the remnants of the beach from your hair, Gojo joined you, his hands strong and sure as he lathered soap over your skin. "You smell amazing," he whispered, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

The intimacy of the moment washed away any remaining insecurity from earlier, leaving only the warmth of his touch and the knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be.

Afterwards, wrapped in towels, you curled up on the couch, the salty scent of the ocean clinging to your skin. Gojo pulled out a movie, something light and romantic, and you snuggled into his side. "Pick something we both love," you suggested, feeling the day's tensions melt away.

His arm was a warm band around you, and his laugh was a soothing balm to your spirit. As the credits rolled, you looked up at him, your heart full. “Thank you for today,” you said, your voice thick with emotion.

He kissed the top of your head. “Always, my love. Always.”

The world outside could wait. For now, all you needed was the warmth of Gojo’s embrace and the promise of forever.

As the final credits danced across the screen, Gojo turned off the TV, the room bathed in the soft glow of the moonlight that streamed through the open blinds. He pulled you closer, his arm tightening around your waist. You nestled your head into the crook of his neck, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath your cheek. His scent, a mix of saltwater and sand, was comforting, a reminder of the carefree hours spent at the beach.

"I love nights like this," you whispered, tracing patterns on his back.

He smiled against your hair. "Me too. They remind me of how lucky I am to have you."

You felt his thumb tracing idle patterns on your arm as his other hand found yours, lacing your fingers together. Your breathing synced with his, lulling you into a peaceful tranquility. It was moments like these that made you feel invincible, as if nothing could ever break the bond that you shared.

“Do you remember our first date?” Gojo’s voice was a gentle whisper, breaking the silence like a soft wave against the shore.

You smiled, the memory as vivid as the day it had happened. “How could I forget? The way you looked at me, like I was the only person in the room.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “I knew then that you were special. And every day since then, you’ve proven me right.”

Your heart swelled with affection, his words resonating deep within. You sat up, turning to face him, your gaze searching his eyes. “And do you remember what you said to me that night?”

Gojo’s expression grew contemplative for a brief moment before his eyes lit up with recollection. “I said that I’d do anything to protect you, no matter what curses the world threw our way.”

“And you have,” you whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Every single day, you’ve kept that promise.”

He leaned into your touch, his eyes filled with a love so profound that it stole your breath away. “And I always will,” he murmured, before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was as warm and deep as the ocean itself.

The night grew late, the moon high in the sky, but neither of you made a move to go to bed. The pull between you was too strong, a magnetic force that didn’t care about the ticking clock or the responsibilities of tomorrow. As your kisses grew more passionate, you felt your fears and worries dissolve into the night. In this moment, there was only Gojo and the love that bound you together.

With a soft groan, he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. “I never want this to end,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

You brushed a strand of hair from his face, smiling through the mist of happiness that clouded your vision. “It never has to. We have an eternity of moments like this to cherish.”

He leaned in to kiss you again, his lips tender and reassuring. As you melted into the kiss, you knew that no matter what the future held, you’d face it together. Hand in hand, heart to heart, you’d conquer each new day, creating a love story that was uniquely your own.

And as you eventually drifted off to sleep in the safety of his arms, the sound of the waves from the beach carried through the open window, a lullaby that whispered sweet dreams and promised more days of joy, laughter, and endless love

[the-faceless-bride]

What does she have...

Johnny 'soap" Mactavish × (obsessive?) Reader

Plot: Johnny 'John' Macravish. The man you've been in love with since you were 13 years old. The boy next door who promised to protect you, care about you, and be by your side. Promised to be your best friend. Grown up together and still close to this day. Only you want to be more, but... It seems he just can't leave behind the free life, sleeping where he wants, when he wants with who he wants... He needs more than you. And you just can't expect that.

Warnings: Angst, Hurt/no comfort/comfort, unrequited love, swearing, mentions of sex, Sex, seeing the man you love with someone else, Civilian reader, friends to lovers?, mentions of abuse, Johnny gets hurt at some point.

A/n: this will have a choose-your-path style to it, cuz I find interaction fun! And a pick your ending. I listened to 'Put Me in a Movie' by Lana on repeat while making this. Slowed and reverbed.

You had been in love with him as long as you. Would remember. Your mom's being close friends and all. You'd grown up practically in the same house. And you'd loved every second of it.

It broke your heart when he first told you he was joining the military. That was the first time you and him had ever fought. But you still remember it like it was yesterday.

"Why do you care so much?!" he screamed at you. An uncomfortable silence followed, you wanted to tell him. 'I'm in love with you, I care for you, I just want you to be safe. Can't you be here safe... With me?' but instead, you had stupidly said, 'You're like my brother. I wouldn't want my brother to get hurt.' you regret not telling him that night, either our come would've spared you years of her break...

But today you'd been ecstatic, Johnny was coming home today. He had sent you the letter and that some squad mates would stay! You were excited to meet everyone... At first...

When everyone had set down the bags and you saw that shaggy mohalk you came running down the steps of Johnny's house.

Johnny and you had a comfortable dynamic between the two of you. You had your little apartment for one that you stayed at when Johnny was home from his missions. But while he was gone you stayed in his house, keeping the dust bunnies away and his house warm.

Neither of you minded the agreement. You especially, you got to lay in his bed every night. Thinking and dreaming what it would be like to go to bed and wake up next to him.

You hugged Johnny and he laughed at you almost knocking him over, his sweet laughter... His smell, his voice... "miss me lassy? Heh-" his silly teasing, a perfect moment...

"who's your little friend?" a moment ruined by the sound of another woman's voice. You jumped back to look at her, "this is [Name], my good friend. Practically my little sister-" aaannd there it was. That gut-wrenching feeling of another needle stabbing your heart.

This woman was tall, very muscular, and had a scar under her left eye. Blonde hair and the most beautiful green eyes you'd ever seen.

And you knew instantly what her 'relationship' with Johnny was. They were always the same.

Every mission he came back from he had a pretty woman aside him. Sometimes from the mission, other just a girl he found at the local pub after a drink with his mates.

Always another pretty woman. But never you.

You went home and cried every time.

"It's nice to meet you all," you said with a smile, hoping his teammates wouldn't notice the slight drop in your mood knowing a woman was with them. They had all kindly introduced themselves, except the big one with the mask, he just stared at you. You couldn't tell what he was thinking behind those dark eyes.

"I'm Gaz, it's nice to meet you! We were just gonna set our things inside and head for a drink would you like to come?"

While a drink would be nice you learned your lesson. You had only been around Johnny when he was drunk twice. Both times ended with you crying.

The first time, you had gone out with him to celebrate his return. It was going smoothly and you were having fun. Seeing the Man you love having fun, being alive. But it quickly went south when you excused yourself to the bathroom. When you came back Johnny had a woman on his arm, Dancing and whispering in her ear. Kissing her neck, letting her rake her fingernails down his strong chest.

You felt sick. You rushed back to his house and ended up crying yourself to sleep in a guest room. But being woken up to the sickening sound of that woman moaning Johnny's name.

And the second time...

"oh no thank you, I just finished tidying up here and I gotta get home to my cat." you joked and he thankfully accepted your excuse. Johnny didn't even notice you leaving...

You couldn't sleep, you laid awake wondering what it was like to be that woman. To be fucked into the mattress by Johnny. Your Johnny.

You'd dreamed and fantasized about it many many times. To kiss him. To hold him. To moan for him. A dream you touched yourself every night too. It made you feel less lonely.

You wondered if when lying in his bed she smelled your perfume?

You had a very specific perfume, you had been wearing it every day since you were 16, you'd worn it once and Johnny had said you 'smelled nice' and since then you'd only ever wear That specific scent.

In your mind, when he smelled that scent he would always think of you. And you had slept on his bed every night since he had been gone, you know you still lingered on his sheets.

You'd always wondered if Johnny... Liked... The smell of you on his bed. You knew he knew you slept in his bed, instead of one of the guest beds he had in his home. But he had never once told you to stop... Maybe he liked it?... Maybe...

For a moment you reviled in the idea that while she was being fucked, her head shoved into the pillows she'd be forced to smell you lingering on his sheets. Maybe if you were right the smell might... Make him think of you... If only for a moment... Maybe...

You sigh.

Why couldn't it just be you? What did all those other women have... That you didn't?

Why couldn't he... Just pick you?

Tags: @godihatethiswebsite

Part 1/???

[shitsndgiggs]

Kenan and YN had their wedding in Istanbul a few weeks ago and now it's time for her to move to Italy with him. When he fetches her from her parents house, she can't stop crying during her farewell because she has never been outside Turkey before and she is going to be so far away from her family, in a country where she only knows her husband. So, something soft and comforting where he promises her dad to protect her because she is his and having a heartfelt conversation when they're alone in the car or plane because she can't stop crying.

TOGETHER, ALWAYS - KENAN YILDIZ

In which you have to move to Italy and leave your family

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The warm, familiar breeze of Istanbul carried with it a bittersweet feeling as I stood by the window of my childhood bedroom, looking out at the bustling streets below.

Just a few weeks ago, Kenan and I had celebrated our wedding surrounded by loved ones in this very city.

Now, it was time to leave this place and start a new chapter in Italy, where Kenan played for Juventus.

The excitement of our new life was overshadowed by the looming sadness of leaving my family and the only home I had ever known.

Kenan was due to pick me up soon, and the house was filled with the somber yet proud faces of my family.

My mother fussed over my suitcases, making sure everything was in order, while my father sat quietly, his eyes betraying the emotions he was trying to keep in check.

My younger siblings hovered around me, their faces a mix of excitement for my new adventure and sadness at my departure.

The doorbell rang, and my heart skipped a beat. Kenan was here. My father opened the door, and Kenan stepped in, his presence instantly making me feel a little more at ease.

He greeted my family warmly, exchanging pleasantries and promises to take care of me.

"It's time," my father said, his voice thick with emotion. He hugged me tightly,

whispering, "Take care of yourself, kızım. Remember, you can always come home."

"I will, Baba," I replied, tears threatening to spill over. "I love you all so much."

Kenan stepped forward, shaking my father's hand firmly. "I promise to take care of her, sir. She's my world, and I'll do everything I can to make her happy and safe."

My father nodded, patting Kenan on the shoulder. "I know you will, Kenan. Just make sure she calls home often."

With that, it was time to go. I hugged my family one last time, tears streaming down my face. Kenan gently led me to the car, and I could barely see through my tears.

As we drove away, I looked back at my parents' house, watching it grow smaller and smaller until it disappeared from view.

The reality of the situation hit me hard, and I couldn't stop the sobs from escaping my lips.

Kenan reached over, taking my hand in his. "Hey, it's going to be okay," he said softly. "I know this is hard, but I'm here with you. We'll get through this together."

I nodded, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. "I know, Kenan. It's just... I've never been away from home like this. I'm scared."

He pulled the car over to the side of the road, turning to face me. "I understand, aşkım. It's a big change, and it's okay to be scared. But remember, you're not alone. You have me, and we'll build a new home together in Italy."

I looked into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and love there. "I just don't want to feel alone," I whispered.

He cupped my face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away my tears. "You won't be. I promise. We'll make new memories, explore new places, and create a life together. And anytime you want to come back to Istanbul, we'll make it happen. Your family is my family now, too."

I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in his words. "Thank you, Kenan. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He kissed my forehead, then my nose, and finally my lips, lingering there for a moment. "You'll never have to find out. I'm here, always."

We continued the journey to the airport, Kenan keeping my hand in his the entire time. Once we boarded the plane, I rested my head on his shoulder, trying to find some peace in the midst of my turmoil.

As the plane took off, I felt a fresh wave of tears. Kenan wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close. "It's okay, aşkım. Just let it out. I'm here."

I cried quietly, feeling his comforting presence next to me. After a while, the tears slowed, and I looked up at him. "Thank you for being so understanding. I know this isn't easy for you either."

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. "We're a team, remember? Your feelings matter to me. And I want to make this transition as smooth as possible for you."

I nodded, feeling a bit more reassured. "I just need some time to adjust, I guess."

"Take all the time you need," he said, kissing my forehead again. "We'll take it one step at a time, together."

[https-evan2]

heard you were suffering from writers block so I am here to ask for a fix :)

imagine:

being Pavitr’s friend for YEARS. I’m talking since diapers. Only to see him run after the same girl, Gyatri. You encourage him, of course. But, one night when he comes home with flowers, you attempt to cheer him up, assuming Gyatri rejected him. When in reality, he bought you flowers with her help and even prepared a little speech so he can finally tells you how he feels.

(I have a Hobie idea that is similar to this as well that’s more abt babysitting Mayday.)

i love this idea so much

since you didn’t request gender it’s gonna be neutral

no pronouns used for reader (as usual)

btw English isn’t my first language so it might be some grammar and spelling errors

• You’ve been his friend for as long as you could remember your earliest memory is when you were 5 and your and his family were having a dinner together

• there’s even pictures of when you two were in diapers together

• and you might have developed a teeny tiny crush on him

• but you’ve never acted on it bc of his crush on Gyatri

• Tbh it was a little sad seeing him being so hopelessly romantic for her but you were his best friend (sorry Hobie)

• You didn’t want to end your friendship bc of a stupid crush

• So no matter how sad you were you were always by his side

“Tonight is the night I’m going to tell her how i feel” he said

“Yeah at least I’ll finally catch a break from you straight up simping for her” you said jokingly

”I’m not simping” he said jokingly offended

“whatever help’s you sleep at night” you said and Pavitr slightly elbowed your side

• little did you know is that the person your best friend had been obsessing over was you and Gyatri had helped bim trying to confess to you

• but he made sure never to lie

•whenever he said that he was gonna tell her how he felt he meant tell her how he felt about you

• It was the next day aka Saturday

• he picked this day so he could confess to you during the sunset

• he had called you to sit by your favourite place

•it was a tall rooftop with an entrance that was almost secret

•you first thought that he was rejected bc he sounded a little more nervous and shyer on the phone

• never in a million years would you imagine that he was there with flowers…. For you!

“What the heck is all this” you said with a small chuckle

“Hi there, Y/N,

I've known you for what seems like an eternity, but even in all our time together, I've never been able to put into words how I truly feel about you.

Every time I see you, you make my heart skip a beat. Your presence alone makes me feel at ease, no matter what troubles I face in life. Being with you is like being in a warm embrace; I feel safe, protected, and loved.

I cherish every moment we've had as friends, but what I really want is to explore something more with you. I want us to be more than just friends. I want to be your partner, your lover, your everything.

No matter what happens, I promise to always be there for you. Whether we live on the same planet, or in different galaxies, my love for you will never fade.

Will you be mine?”

• You looked at him blushing like crazy

“y-you were into me this hole time!”

“Y-yes heh suprise!”

“please don’t just look at me like tha-“

•you interrupted him by hugging him

“Yes, I’d love to be yours” <3

[whimsimille]

THICKER THAN BLOOD

Chapter 2: "Come home to me, darling."

(Jeong Jin-Man x fem! reader)

"Why are you leaving so suddenly?" You questioned, your voice bouncing off the tapestry that adorned the living room wall of your quaint shared apartment and the oak bookshelves filled with classics.

The comforting aroma of a simmering homemade tomato sauce filled the air, mingling with the sound of sizzling pans and the rhythmic chopping of crisp, fresh vegetables on the polished granite kitchen countertop. 

Dressed in a worn-out apricot apron adorned with faded sunflower prints, your hands were occupied with diligently kneading the carefully prepared pasta dough for your dinner, a recipe passed down from your Italian grandmother.

All of a sudden, the living room's normal sounds—the soft purr of Gunpowder, his gray cat curled up on the plush Persian rug, the low drone of the television playing the evening news—were replaced by an eerie silence that made your skin crawl. 

On turning, you noticed Honda in the midst of rushing preparations for departure. He was hunched over the suede couch, lacing up his sturdy boots, his face etched with stern concentration. Against the dimly lit backdrop of the room, his figure blended seamlessly, rendering him no more than a transient silhouette.

"Where exactly are you off to? And what's the urgency?" You signed, your hands dancing in the air while you leaned against the wooden door frame. A knot of unease formed in the pit of your stomach at the sight of his hasty departure.

His gaze met yours, a small, reassuring smile playing on his lips as he signed back, "I have to go. Jin-Man needs me. I can't disclose more for your safety. You know how it works."   

He continued to pack his bag—a small duffel made of worn leather with patches on the corners and straps slung over one shoulder. As he did so, you caught sight of an old photograph falling out of the side pocket; it was of you both from what looked like a summer festival years ago, grinning widely under colorful umbrellas while balloons swelled around you both.

"But can't it wait until tomorrow? Is it really necessary to depart on the day that we get back together after several months?

The worn-out leather of the couch groaned under his weight as he rose, his tall figure casting a long shadow against the faded brown wallpaper. 

Moving towards you, he avoided the cluttered coffee table littered with dog-eared magazines and discarded newspapers. His leather jacket, draped over the back of a nearby armchair, was quickly pulled on, the rusted zipper scraping against the silence of the room.

"No, it can't wait. But I'll be back in time for dinner. I promise." Even as he used a gentle swipe of his thumb to remove a stray splotch of tomato sauce from your cheek, his smile never left his face. “When I return, we can lounge on the couch, munching on popcorn and be engrossed in those old Hollywood classics you're so fond of. You can also show me your progress with that hacking project you've been working on. Maybe try not to fry the motherboard this time?"

"First of all, you better keep that promise. Second,  I’ll hold you to it. Third, for your information, that was a one-time thing!"

"First, I will. It's a promise. And second, I remember it being a three-time thing." He chuckled, his laughter warm like a summer's day.

"Shut up. But tell me, why the secrecy? Why can't you share what's happening? Jin-Man usually keeps me in the loop when a mission comes up.”

Despite your persistent questioning, Honda remained resolute, his face as unreadable as a closed book. He gently loosened your grip on his arm. "Stop nagging me like Mama would. I can't divulge any details. It's not safe. But I need to go. Jin-Man needs me. Don’t you have any government sites to hack? Or do you plan on crashing our systems again?"

"Stop it, douchebag. You're being reckless. We need to tread with caution, especially now more than ever. You know that. And that was not my fault; their security was just… upgraded."

However, he simply shook his head as he smiled at your pout, pulling you into a warm embrace. The cold, hard metal of his brass knuckles, concealed in his pocket, pressed against your side. A chilling reminder of the danger that lay ahead. Yet you refrained from voicing your fears, choosing instead to hold him tight, the rhythm of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"Alright," you conceded, swallowing your protests, "at least take some food with you." Gesturing towards a Tupperware container on the table, filled with steaming eggs and a side of kimchi jeon—both staple dishes in your shared meals.

His eyes softened at your concern, and he took the offered container, pressing a quick kiss on your forehead before making his way towards the entrance.

As he neared the door, a rush of childhood memories invaded your mind. Sometimes you stayed up late whispering secrets under the covers; sometimes you felt his pain even when he was miles away, and sometimes you both fell off your bikes and ended up in the emergency room with scraped knees. They dubbed it the twin instinct, but to you, it was a lifeline, a warning system that alerted you when Honda was in danger.

"Honda, wait!" You called out, your voice echoing off the creaking wooden floorboards. 

The desperation in your plea stirred Gunpowder from her sleep, her tail twitching softly against the worn-out rug as though caught in a dream of chasing unseen mice. Honda turned, his hand still on the doorknob, his eyes questioning in the pale afternoon light filtering through the gaps in the old blinds.

A knot of guilt twisted in the pit of your stomach, threatening to crawl out through your lips and fill the room with its bitter taste.

The two of you were caught in a moment where petty bickering had canceled all the plans you had carefully added to your shared agenda. Your hands, once intertwined in unity, had become unglued from one another, your fingers now tangled in the strands of hair sprouting from your head. The hateful words you once spat at each other—words that had plunged through the gaps of your milk teeth—had turned into a somber reality. It suddenly seemed oddly appealing to consider dying in order to keep him around.

"I...I love you, brother," you admitted, the words feeling foreign yet so right. It was something you should have said a long time ago, after your parents' deaths, when it was just the two of you against the world. But you had always been afraid—afraid that admitting your fears would make them real.

A soft smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, an unspoken understanding passing between you two. "I love you too, sis," he signed before stepping out into the afternoon, leaving you in the silence of the empty apartment.

While life in the apartment carried on around you—the stove still burning, the TV blaring the evening news, Gunpowder curling around your ankles, licking your calves—you felt tears springing up in your eyes as your thoughts raced.

Come home, Honda. Come home and tell me everything about your day, from the way the sun glinted off the skyscrapers to the way the coffee tasted at your favorite café. Come home and argue with me again, about trivial things like who left the lights on or whose turn it was to do the dishes. Slam your bedroom door like you used to when we were teenagers and stomp around the house in Dad's old boots.

Come home and laugh with me, share those terrible inside jokes that only we understand. Handle your knife in the wrong way, the way you used to when you're not on a mission, when you're just my brother and not a covert operative. 

Come home and hold me again while I cry in your lap about the girls and boys that shattered my heart. Come home to fix the TV you always mess up with those greasy fingers of yours, leaving stains on the remote.

Scream at me if you need to; let out all that pent-up frustration that I know you keep bottled up inside. 

Come home and tell me how you always manage to burn the pasta, making it stick to the pots. Come home and let me nag about your messiness, about the dirty socks you always leave on the floor and about the dishes in the sink. 

But most importantly:

“Come home safe. Come home to me, Honda. Please."

2 months later

Late afternoon light filtered through the window, casting elongated, capering shadows across the glossy surface of your living room's hardwood floor.

Finally, after a whole day cleaning the place and trying to make it more child friendly, you were curled up in the embrace of the vintage couch and a soft, threadbare blanket, a relic from your childhood, was wrapped snugly around you, providing a comforting barrier against the creeping chill.

You idly stroked Gunpowder, who was as much a part of the family as any human member. Her fur was coarse, yet soothing under your fingertips.

Gunpowder was the only other living being that missed Honda as much as you did; her amber eyes held a profound sadness that echoed your own. You were grateful that Jin-Man let you take her from the animal shelter.

She didn't deserve to be alone, not when she had already lost so much.

With the monochrome scenes flickering against the brick wall, the contemporary television set in the room's corner was showing Casablanca.

Nonetheless, your mind was elsewhere, lost in a world of thought, meandering through a labyrinth of candid memories as your eyes were glued to the window, drinking in the expanse of the verdant family farm outside.

In your hands was your favorite cat mug, the one with the chipped ear and faded paint, a sentimental relic from your college days.

It was unusually quiet, the usual cacophony of farm life replaced by the relentless drumming of rain.

Not only was Ji-An nowhere to be seen, but Jin-Man's rusty truck had vanished from its customary location beside the red barn.

A glance at the old, ticking clock hanging on the wall—16:00, way past the time Ji-An usually got home from school—made your anxiety spike.

Just as you were about to pull on your trusty yellow raincoat to go look for her, you saw Jin-Man's truck pulling up the gravel driveway. He got out of the truck, his jacket hanging haphazardly off his broad shoulders, and his jaw clenched in a way that set off alarm bells in your head.

You quickly signed , "Hey! Old man! Good afternoon to you too! Where's Ji-An?" as he stomped past you, heading straight to his office. But he didn't answer; he didn't even spare you a glance.

Following him, you tried to make sense of what was happening, but he closed the office door right in your face. You were left standing there, frustration bubbling up inside you, a sense of foreboding making your heart pound in your chest.

As you paced around the living room, worry gnawing at you, the front door creaked open. Your heart leapt at the sound, and you turned around, expecting to see Ji-An, safe and sound.

But what you saw made your heart drop.

Ji-An walked in, soaked to the bone and covered in mud, carrying her pink backpack—the one her mother had bought for her last Christmas. Her uniform was clinging to her small frame, her hair plastered to her forehead, but she didn't make a sound. Not a sob, not a whimper.

Seeing her, you rushed over, dropping onto your knees to be at her level. "Ji-An, sweetheart, what happened? Why didn't you come home with Uncle Jin-Man?" you asked. A flutter of panic seized you as she remained silent, her eyes downcast. "Did something happen at school? You can tell me. I'm here for you."

“I need a bath, Noona. I don't want to talk about it right now. Is that okay?”

You looked at her for a long moment, the sight of her shivering form causing a lump to form in your throat. Her hair, previously neatly braided, was now a mess; the ties you had made for her earlier that morning were nowhere to be found.

"Yeah… Of course, baby," you reassured her, offering a weak smile.

With a sigh, you slowly rose to your feet and gently took her hand, leading her to the bedroom. You could feel her fingers tremble slightly in your grasp, her small hand cold and damp from the rain.

You then went to the bathroom to prepare a warm bath for her. You quickly grabbed a fresh set of clothes for her—a soft purple cotton t-shirt and a pair of comfortable cartoon pants that had cute little teddy bears printed on them. You placed them neatly on the bathroom counter, within her reach.

Once the bathtub was filled with warm water and a generous amount of bubble bath, you helped her undress the wet clothes sticking to her skin. 

While Ji-An enjoyed her warm bath, Gunpowder sat in front of the bathtub. Her amber eyes were focused on the bubbles, her tail twitching with curiosity. Every now and then, she would bat at a stray bubble, her paw slicing through the air with a fluid motion as if it were a game.

With Ji-An safely in the bath and the clothes inside the washing machine, you then went to the kitchen to begin preparing dinner. Using cookie cutters, you shaped the food into fun shapes—a star-shaped sandwich, fruit cut into the shape of animals, a bowl of soup with alphabet pasta. You even managed to make a small salad; the vegetables were bright and colorful. It was a small gesture, but you hoped it would bring a smile to Ji-An's face.

Throughout the days you've been living in this place, you've tried countless times to make Jin-Man and Ji-An eat at the same place, to share a meal like a family. But Jin-Man always avoided you and Ji-An like you were viruses, always eating small things before burying himself on the couch while watching movies all alone or in his office working with Pasin. It was frustrating to see the distance between them, but then again, it wasn't your job to force conversations and lovey dovey moments.

Once the food was ready, you set the table and then sat down in front of Ji-An, waiting for her to finish her bath. She emerged a while later, her hair damp and her cheeks flushed from the warm water.

Gunpowder, having finished her bubble play, twined around Ji-An’s legs as the child sat at the table. You both sat in silence for a while, the only sound being the gentle hum of the washing machine and the occasional clink of cutlery against plates.

Then, to your surprise, Ji-An was the one to break the silence.

"Today, I waited for Uncle Jin-Man to come and pick me up from school. But he was late, and it started to rain. I decided to walk home instead."

You watched as she continued to sign, her hands moving with a quiet determination. " I was walking in the rain when I saw Uncle Jin-Man's truck. He slowed down, but I didn't want to get in. I was upset with him. So, I continued to walk, even though it was raining hard. Uncle Jin-Man stopped and waited for me to get in, but I didn't."

“I wanted him to come out and apologize, to tell me he was sorry for being late. But he just accelerated and went away. I was so angry, Noona. I wanted him to understand how I felt and how it felt to be forgotten."  

"It's okay, baby. It's okay to feel upset. But remember, your uncle loves you very much. Sometimes, adults make mistakes too."

Shortly after dinner, you decided it was time for Ji-An to learn a new task: cleaning the dishes.

Filling the sink with warm, sudsy water, you showed her how to hold the scrub brush and guided her hand to clean the surface of the plates with gentle but firm strokes. You made sure she understood the importance of removing all leftover bits of food and how to rinse each dish thoroughly under the running water.

"Remember, Ji-An, cleaning is also a part of cooking. Once you're done eating, always make sure to clean up after yourself. It's not just about keeping your area clean, but also about respecting the people who will use the kitchen after you. See, we're not just cleaning up our mess; we're also preparing a clean space for the next person, " you signed, watching as she absorbed your words and continued washing the plates carefully under your watchful eye.

When you were done and completed with the task, you noticed that the sky had completely darkened, the bright hues of the day replaced by the deep blues and blacks of night. You gently dried Ji-An's small, pruney hands with a plush, soft towel and led her towards her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm, cozy hue from the night lamp sitting on her bedside table, casting playful shadows that danced on the walls.

You tucked her into her bed. The fluffy comforter was pulled up to her chin, and you couldn't help but laugh at the way Gunpowder jumped onto her lap, purring contently.

"Noona," she signed, her eyes wide and luminous in the dim light, reflecting the soft glow of the night lamp. "Can you tell me a bedtime story? "

"Of course, sweetheart. Do you have any particular story in mind?" You asked, settling yourself comfortably at the edge of her bed, your hand gently rubbing soothing circles on her back.

"No, you choose, " she shrugged, her small body snuggling deeper into the warm covers.

You mulled over her request for a moment, your mind flipping through the pages of the countless stories you knew. Finally, one came to your mind. "There's a sad yet beautiful story from my hometown about two squirrels. They were mates—lovers for life and the town's favorite pair of animals. They were seen everywhere together, always chattering away in their own language, their tails intertwined. "

With each word, you painted a vivid picture of their life together. You told her about the female squirrel's illness and the male's devotion and his refusal to leave her side even in search of food.

As you narrated, you noticed Ji-An's eyes welling up with a faraway look. She interrupted you multiple times. "Why didn't the male squirrel eat?" "Why didn't he find another mate? " "Do all squirrels do this? "

You answered each question patiently, explaining the depth of the squirrel's love and the depth of his grief. You told her about how the male squirrel mourned for his mate, returning to their empty nest alone each year.

As you reached the end of the story, you noticed Ji-An's eyes growing heavy. Her questions became fewer and farther between, her chest moving slower until she slept. Still, she was twitching ever so slightly, hands closed and then jerking open in a rhythmic pattern that spoke volumes.

In an attempt to provide some comfort, you laid down next to her, being careful not to jostle her too much. You wrapped your arm around her small form, pulling her closer to your warmth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw a flash of yellow and red. The hyena. It was lurking in the corner of the room, its eyes gleaming malevolently in the dim light, eager to haunt you too. You didn't even turn to look at it. It was there, but it wasn't real. You knew it.

"Goodnight, Ji-An," you murmured softly, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead, placing her bunny toy in the place where you'd been seconds before. "Sleep tight, sweetheart," you added, stroking her hair soothingly. "Noona's here. You're safe."

You switched off the night lamp, plunging the room into darkness, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the window.

As you left her room, you closed the door gently behind you, leaving the hyena and the remnants of your past locked away.

Easing back into the worn porch chair, the fabric of Jin-Man's purloined shirt fluttered against your skin in the cool night breeze. A stolen moment of solitude, with nothing but a half-burnt cigarette for company. 

The embers at the tip flickered, casting an eerie glow in the darkness. Drawing the cigarette to your lips, you inhaled, letting the sharp tang of nicotine coil around your senses and momentarily dull your worries. 

Eyes shut, you allowed your thoughts to drift to the intricate web of coding and changes you had to make in Murthehelp.

The only sounds were the distant hum of crickets and the soft rustling of leaves under the night sky's vast expanse. Yet, this tranquility was abruptly shattered by the encroaching sound of hushed footsteps gradually growing louder. Your eyes fluttered open to see Jin-Man standing before you, arms crossed over his chest, eyes fixed on the cigarette nestled between your fingers with a look of distaste as if you had the devil's hands between your lips.

A chuckle escaped you; the sight of Jin-Man, usually so composed, visibly irked by the cigarette, was enough to momentarily diffuse the tension. "Insomnia again?" you asked, flicking the ash off the cigarette with your thumb.

His hardened gaze didn't waver as he retorted, "I was waiting for you to come to bed."

You shrugged nonchalantly. Since your suicide attempt, Jin-Man has taken it upon himself to keep a watchful eye on you. The concept of solitary sleep had become foreign to both of you.

“What's eating at you?" he asked, his gaze softening slightly.

"Why did you abandon Ji-An at school?" 

"I got tied up and lost track of time," he replied, but his excuse fell on deaf ears. You scoffed at his words, well aware of the truth. He hadn't forgotten; he probably thought leaving Ji-An to trek home on her own would toughen her up.

"That's a load of crap, and you know it," you retorted, stomping out the cigarette under your feet. "Do you think making her walk home alone in the rain is going to make her stronger? Is that your grand plan?"

His silence was a response in itself, resonating in the quiet night air louder than any words.

"You are unbelievable, Jin-Man," you muttered. The scent of fresh paint and pine filled the air. It was a far cry from the gunpowder and blood that once filled your memory. But you couldn't help but crave it sometimes, even if it meant pain. Pain meant life; it meant survival. "You keep pushing her away relentlessly, like a stubborn child refusing his vegetables. You're so preoccupied with making her tough and resilient that you forget she's just a child. She needs your love and your understanding. You forget that she can't even communicate normally and that her aphasia is only getting worse! You don't even let me talk with her teacher, and don't pretend I don't know about the bullying she's enduring at school! We're not in Babylon , Jin-Man! We're in a small town where everyone knows everyone else. For heaven's sake, grow up!”

He retorted, his voice sharp as a blade, slicing through the heavy silence. “You should be more concerned with managing your own aphasia and PTSD. Ji-An’s not your responsibility. She's not related to you by blood. Drop this saintly act of playing mom. We're not her parents. This isn't a dollhouse and we're not Ken and Barbie.”

"Act? I kept Ji-An alive after her parents died! I trained her to communicate again! And even though it's hard, I've made her eat properly and taught her how to brush her teeth and do her homework again! I've been here for her every step of the way! You just... sit in your office or hide in your room!"

His jaw clenched tightly before he spoke again. "You think that's all it takes? Just feeding her and teaching her sign language?" He spat out angrily. The tip of his tongue traced his bottom lip as he continued speaking harshly, "It's not enough! She needs discipline! She needs structure!"

You shook your head violently. "She has enough structure! She needs us, Jin-Man! She needs our support, our guidance. She doesn't need a soldier; she needs a parent!" 

His face tightened, his eyes narrowing into dangerous slits. 

"Are you that afraid to care for someone, that afraid to love again? Are you hiding behind your uniform, your duties because you're too scared to face your own feelings?"

"Don't play with fire. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I think I do! And do you think Jin-Suk would like to see his daughter being trained as a warrior rather than growing up as a normal girl?" you challenged, your voice echoing with the strength of your belief.

The mention of his brother struck a nerve. A flash of anger crossed his stony features, and before you knew it, he was charging at you like a wild animal. 

Suddenly, Jin-Man's hands shot out, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your back slammed into the gnarled wooden planks, the splintered texture scratching against your skin. The impact sent a sharp jolt of pain through your spine, causing you to gasp as the wind was knocked out of your lungs.

"Why are you doing this, Jin-Man?" 

In response, his large, calloused hands wrapped around your throat in a vice-like grip, cutting off your airway. His fingers pressed against the delicate skin of your neck, the strength in his hands threatening to crush your windpipe. It felt like you were sinking into an abyss, the darkness of his rage engulfing you, making it impossible to breathe.

You clawed at his hands, desperate to pry them off. But his grip was unyielding; his hands felt like iron bands around your neck, tightening with every second that passed. As you gasped for breath, your vision started to spin, the edges blurring as black spots danced in front of your eyes. Your lungs felt like they were on fire, screaming for air.

Panic surged within you, a tidal wave that threatened to consume you. Time seemed to stretch, each second feeling like an eternity as you struggled to draw breath.

Finally, his grip loosened just slightly, allowing a sliver of oxygen to rush into your lungs. You gasped; the taste of air was like ambrosia—sweet and life-giving. Coughs racked your body as you struggled to regain control over your breathing, your throat raw and your chest heaving. The salty tang of tears prickled at the corners of your eyes, blurring your vision.

But you refused to back down, to give in to the fear. You locked eyes with him, defiance burning in your gaze. "Go ahead, Jin-Man, continue," you spat out, your voice raspy from the assault. "Kill me. But know this: my death won't change the truth.”

“Jesus, you're so weak, girl.”

A chuckle found its way through your bruised vocal chords. “Yeah? Wanna see who's weak then?”

Summoning every iota of your willpower, you retaliated against his suffocating hold. Your fingers clawed at his wrist, nails digging into his skin as you strained against his formidable strength. 

After a fierce and desperate struggle, your adrenaline-fueled power seemed to catch him off guard. With a sudden explosive kick, you managed to wrench yourself free, pushing him violently away from you.

Caught off balance, Jin-Man stumbled backwards. His feet skidded across the wooden floorboards, and his body crashed into the pot of vibrant lilies you had carefully chosen from the local market to adorn the porch. The pot shattered on impact, fragments of terracotta scattering across the floor, intermingling with the uprooted flowers and loose soil.

For a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The only sounds were the soft rustling of the brutalized lilies and the quiet patter of dirt falling onto the floor. But inside? Inside of you, the hyenas laughter echoed through your mind, mocking you for getting what you deserved—too used to chaos and violence.

The sight of the destruction seemed to snap Jin-Man out of his rage-induced stupor, his furious gaze softening as he took in the aftermath of your altercation.

"I'm done," you said, breaking the silence. "I'm done with this, Jin-Man. I'm done with your anger, your stubbornness, and your refusal to let anyone in. I'm done with the constant battles, the endless wars. I'm grabbing my stuff and leaving."

“Y/N…” He trailed off as he grabbed your arm roughly, pulling you around to face him. Your bodies were just inches apart now, his breath hot on your cheek as he pleaded silently.

“Don’t. Just shut your mouth and let me go. I'm not your Barbie, right?” Each word was punctuated by the bitter taste of blood as you absentmindedly touched your raw throat.

“You can't sleep alone.”

“I'll manage.”

“You can't remember when you last ate.”

"I'll set a reminder.”

"You can't drive without crying."

"I'll get a taxi."

"Ji-An needs you."

I need you.

"She needs you more."

"And you, Jin-Man," you added, the sting of your words sobering the air. "You need to realize that before it's too late."

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

April 3:

"Are you serious? Did I actually have to buy another chip to send you messages? You know, the store owner looked at me like I was crazy."

1 missed call from Ahjusshi

April 5:

"Ji-An keeps asking for you. She asked me to tell her the story about the couple of squirrels. You know, the one about their endless love and devotion."

2 missed calls from Jeong

April 7:

"Pasin showed me the link to the site. It's pretty quick and easy to access. Even an old man like me can make requests for guns, right? Technology these days, eh?"

April 11:

"She asked me to put on Casablanca. It's one of your favorites, right? I remember Honda telling me that you're addicted to Hollywood classics.”

“Gunpowder keeps sleeping on your side of the bed. I hate it.”

3 missed calls from Jeong Jin-Man, son of a bitch

April 22:

"I have a mission for you. It's critical and requires your skills."

"Can you come home so that we can discuss the details? There's something about it I can't trust in a message."

8 missed calls from the son of a bitch

“I guess I will ask So Min-Hye to replace you then. I know you wouldn't want that."

May 7:

“Ji-An's teacher told me that you visited her today. Did you really make two boys eat dirt by grabbing her money?”

“I could've helped.”

May 9:

“Went to the market today and heard Kyung Soo say that you're a good kisser. I had to stop myself from laughing."

“I heard from the locals that he went to the hospital after being knocked out. Strange, right? Or should I say, expected?"

May 16:

"Gunpowder brought a dead bird into the house. I think she's trying to replace you as the hunter of the family."

May 21:

"I saw a girl at the market wearing a dress you would like. It had sunflowers all over it. Made me think of you."

"She was about your age, too. For a moment, I thought it was you ."

-------

As Jin-Man speeds in the direction of Ji-An's school, his heart pounds against his ribs like a war drum. His knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel, his forehead slick with beads of sweat. He curses himself silently, berating his own negligence.

How could he have not noticed that Ji-An hadn't come home?

The typical view of the small city blurs past him, the houses and trees merging into a hasty collage of colors under the evening gloom. The town's bakery, the park where the children play, and the old library all blur into indistinguishable shadows. But he barely registers any of it. His mind is filled with vivid images of you screaming at him for this oversight.

He imagines your small fists beating at his chest, your eyes—those captivating eyes that he secretly admired—flaring with anger and worry. 

“How could you forget her again , Jin-Man? She's just a child!"

The guilt, like a ravenous beast, gnaws at him, driving him to press the pedal harder. The old engine protests, its roar echoing through the tranquil evening. 

Suddenly, he remembers his phone.

Snatching it from the passenger seat, he dials your number hastily. The line rings once, twice, thrice, but there's no answer. He fumbles to leave a voicemail, his voice shaking slightly as he speaks into the device. "Hey, I… messed up. Ji-An... I… Just call me back.”

The voicemail ends with a beep, leaving Jin-Man alone with his thoughts and the eerie silence of the empty road. He tosses the phone onto the passenger seat, his eyes never leaving the road.

Nearing the school, his eyes flicked to the digital clock on the dashboard—it read 19:00, the hour when the last echoes of childhood laughter usually fade away. But now, the school grounds were eerily silent and deserted, a stark contrast to the daytime symphony of playful shouts and laughter. The playground, usually a vibrant hub of activity, was painted with somber shades, the swings swaying lightly in the breeze, their squeaky chains the only sound piercing the silence.

As he swung into the school's parking lot, a small figure suddenly sprang from the shadows, frantically waving his arms. 

A boy was shouting, his voice hoarse and strained, as he pointed towards the grimy basement door at the rear of the school building. "She's locked there!"

Without a second thought, Jin-Man abandons his car, leaving the engine running as he sprints towards the basement door. The door is locked, but within, he can hear Ji-An's voice, her pleas echoing through the desolate night. 

"Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man! Jeong Jin-Man!" she is calling, her voice scratchy and strained, likely from the first use of her vocal cords in months.

Frantically, he scans his surroundings. His eyes land on a fire safety box nearby. Inside, he spots a hammer. 

With no time to spare, he smashes the box, glass shards raining onto the worn-out asphalt. He grabs the hammer, using it to break the rusted chains and unlock the door. 

In a final heave, he throws the door open, revealing Ji-An inside. Her cheeks were flushed red from crying and her eyes were brimming with a mix of relief and fear.

She doesn't waste any time rushing at him, her small fists pounding against his chest. He doesn't move; he doesn't try to stop her. She's screaming at him, her words punctuated by her furious hits: "Why did you take so long? You promised you were coming back soon! Why did you arrive so late? Why did you let her go? Why did you let Noona go? Why? Why?"

He could only look at her, absorbing her words and feeling each syllable like a physical blow. Her pain, her anger, and her confusion were all directed at him. 

Then he did the only thing he could think of—the only thing he thought you would have done in this situation. 

He pulled her into a tight, protective hug.

For minutes, he doesn't say a word until he grabs her, holding her close.

Turning to the boy, he nods, "I'll give you a ride home."

The journey to the kid’s home was silent, save for the muted hum of the car's engine and the occasional rustle of cloth against leather. 

Ji-An was huddled against the passenger seat, her body trembling slightly. Noticing this, he pulled off his jacket, wrapping it around her small frame in the same way he did for you.

After dropping the boy off and Ji-An finally falling asleep, he drives aimlessly. The city lights flicker past in a hazy blur, their glow casting fleeting shadows on his face. He thinks of you—your laughter, your anger, and your determination. It's strange, he thinks, how the absence of someone can fill a room, a house, or a life.

His thoughts are interrupted by the sudden ringing of his phone.

Glancing at the screen, he sees your name flashing. He hesitates, his thumb hovering over the decline button. 

But then he remembers how things used to be and how it felt to hear your voice without the weight of regret and guilt. He misses when your name didn't make his chest ache, when it was just a name he heard now and then but held no significance to him.

He yearns for the days when he didn't know you, when his eyes didn't instinctively scan every room he entered in hopes of finding you there. He misses the sight of you standing among strangers, wearing that ridiculous skirt he used to tease you about but now finds himself missing.

He finds himself longing for the mundane details. How you'd take off your shoes at the front door, placing your keys with care in the small glass bowl on the corner of the kitchen counter. How you'd drape your coat over the back of a dining room chair, your socks left at the foot of the bed next to the sleeping cat.

He misses holding back your hair as you succumb to the side effects of your PTSD pills, your body rejecting the chemicals meant to help you cope. He yearns for the times when you would climb under the white blankets with him, forcefully opening his arms to encase you between them.

He misses how you would place your legs on top of his and let your hands wander to his waist and chest. He misses hearing you say, "I missed you," telling him about your day as you would slowly drift off to sleep. And he longs for the times he would secretly kiss your cheek softly before he inevitably had to leave you for work.

He misses when you were simply strangers—not two people who act like strangers in public but once knew each other better than they ever knew themselves. He misses the simplicity of those days and the innocence of not knowing what it felt like to lose you.

Because, in the end, when the lights are off and his eyes flutter shut, the back of his mind always whispers your name, calling out to you like you are the only place he was ever meant to call home .

When he finally decided to answer the call, he placed the phone on the dashboard, the worn leather creaking under the weight. He switched to speaker mode, the familiar chime filling the small space of the car. 

"Hello?"

Tinny and distant over the phone speaker, you responded almost immediately. "You left a voicemail. What happened?" In the background, he could hear the faint, unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking open and the soft hiss of a cigarette being lit.

"Your voice sounds rough," he commented, trying to lighten the heavy atmosphere with a touch of humor. "How many days have you been communicating only with sign language?"

"Shut up, motherfucker. What about Ji-An?”

"I…" he started, faltering. The words he needed to say were stuck in his throat, like a bitter pill he couldn't swallow.

“Look, Ji-Man. I have nothing to do with you anymore. I’m calling you back because you sounded like a wounded little bitch and you said her name. Drop the show and spit it out.”

“I failed again, okay?" The confession spilled out of him, the words tasting like defeat. But he couldn't stop there; he had to finish what he started. "But, look, Ji-An spoke.”

He could almost hear your sharp intake of breath and the sound of the cigarette being hastily put out in the background. There was a long, drawn-out silence, the kind of silence that spoke volumes. He could imagine your surprise—the way your eyes would widen slightly, the lit cigarette forgotten in your hand. But when you finally spoke, your voice was quiet, filled with a strange mix of relief and trepidation.

"She spoke?"

"Yes. She called out to me. She used her voice, and she spoke."

"Look, I'm not going to pretend that everything is okay between us," he continued, his voice gruff, "But I'm also not going to pretend that we don't have a shared past. One that involves a little girl who misses you."

"You're such a bastard. You know how to manipulate me using her," you snapped, the sound of a chair creaking in the background signaling your agitation.

"Maybe, but it doesn't change the fact that Ji-An misses you. And you miss her too, don't you?"

A silence followed his words—not an uncomfortable one, but a silence filled with unspoken words and a shared history. And then you sighed, a deep, heavy sigh that echoed with the weight of your unspoken thoughts.

"I do miss her. But you, Jeong Jin-Man, are a pain in my ass.”

He couldn't help but chuckle at your words. "I've been told that before."

"I'm sure you have."

Another silence filled the line, comfortable yet heavy with years of shared experiences.

"By the way," he added, his voice softer now, "the key is still under the cat statue you put by the front door. You can drop by anytime."

"I'll think about it. But don't expect me to come running back, Jin-Man. We're not the same people we used to be."

"I know. But we're still us, aren't we?"

"We're something ," you admitted, a sigh slipping past your lips. "But I don't know what that is anymore."

"Neither do I. But maybe we can figure it out together, old lady."

"Old lady?" you scoffed, a hint of amusement in your voice. "Coming from a man who's 10 years older than me."

"Years are still years," he teased, a smile playing on his lips. "But whatever we are, Y/N, whatever we become, you're still… something to me. And so is Ji-An. Remember that."

"I will. I will, Ahjusshi."

[lowkeyrobin]

DIEGO HARGREEVES ; the house

summary ; yours and diegos last look at the house you were raised in

warnings ; language

disclaimers ; platonic, set in a no-doomsday au where the house was sold after reggies death in 2024, also Reggie wasn't as abusive and the kids had special normal kid core memories cause I want them to have some sort of peace damnit, y/i = your initial

track ; the house that built me, miranda lambert

word count ; 1.1k

masterlist

Colorful Christmas lights hung around the home, just the way Mom would always hang them up. But this year, they weren't hung up by Mom. They were hung up by someone else's mom, someone else's protector, someone else's safe space.

You and Diego stand close together, solemnly walking up the front steps.

The umbrella logo had been removed from the glass front doors, leaving two red, wooden doors in their place. In some of the front windows, you could see fake battery-powered candles and snowflake decals.

Diego knocks on the door, looking in the little window above. A warm light illuminates the front space.

A woman opens the door, unknowing of who you were.

"Hi, can I help you? Are you a friend of Adam?"

"Uh, no" Diego replies. "We used to live here. Uhm..." He looks to you for reassurance.

You turn to the woman. "Can we walk around for just a moment? We never got to say goodbye after our parents passed. I promise we won't take anything other than our memories. Just to feel it, relive it one last time... I just wanna find myself again. This house built us. Our parents died unexpectedly, we couldn't come to even go to the funeral."

The woman's face softens. "Oh, of course" She steps back, allowing you entrance to the home.

The old black and white checkered floor was no more, replaced with some sort of white wood, contrasting against the dark oak accents. The light was warm, different than from what you remembered. This front room was always so cold.

"Take your time," She speaks. "I'll be in the kitchen. Would you like some hot chocolate? It's cold out there"

"No, ma'am," Diego answers, tapping the snow off of his boots on the welcome mat.

She nods, retreating to the other room.

You and Diego look at each other, quickly rushing to the stairs in front of you. On the side, in black paint, rests all of your handprints.

The first was Luther, always number one. He wrote his name like he was creating text to head the newspaper. Then there was Allison, her name painted underneath in cursive. Next was Five, his a little blotchy as he had to do his twice. He wrote his name in his palm, covering up his legal name, which Grace tried to get him to use, Max.

Then there was Klaus and Ben, theirs overlapping each other. Klaus had a mini paint fight with Ben, who'd disapproved immensely. Klaus' name was barely legible, Ben's neat and tidy. Next was Viktor, his hand perfectly placed on the side of the staircase. His name was written underneath in italics, slightly messy since he was in a rush to give the paint to you and Diego.

Speaking of you and Diego, your handprints rested on the end. You'd created a little heart, kind of, out of your hands. You took the left, he took the right. In the middle rested Mom's hand in dark pink paint. He'd begged and pleaded for her to join in for a good ten minutes. He was always a mama's boy.

Little eight-year-old Diego couldn't have been happier in that moment.

Your name was messily scribbled beside your hand, Diego's just the same. Grace wrote Mom with a little heart in cursive in her palm.

Your hands caress your little hands, remembering the cold paint on your hands, the mess it created on the floor.

"You think our height board is beside the hallway closet?" Diego asks softly.

"Wanna find out?" You ask

He smiles, leading you across the house. Beside the white door that led into a cleaning closet rests the height chart on the side board. L, D, A, K, F, B, V, and Y/I. Color coded, too.

Diego chuckles, seeing the height that represented him at ten. "God, I was so short. Allison was so tall"

"She still is" you reply, looking up at your final height checks. Luther's was at twenty-one. 6'3. "Wow. I never realized we all left at different times like that"

Diego nods, looking over Ben's final height at sixteen. He felt his heart trying to fix itself in that moment.

"I thought Klaus left at eighteen?" You comment, looking at the last number he had, being seventeen as he'd run away.

Diego shakes his head. "Seventeen. We left at nineteen, we got a little help from Mom, remember?"

"Oh, yeah"

You're both silent for a moment before you silently agree to go up to your rooms, wanting one last touch of Five, Ben, and yourselves.

You separate ways as you enter your rooms, sitting on the floor. You could remember where every last poster and item had gone like it was yesterday. From the bed placement to which one of Luther's records you were borrowing that day, it all stuck in your head.

The memories kept in the floorboards spoke to you.

Diego used to sneak into your room when he had nightmares up til the age of fifteen. He was mortified of the dark.

Viktor used to read with you on days off from training, all day long.

Luther sat in your room to listen to music with you while you tidied your room.

Klaus would often smoke in your room at because you were the only one with a table fan to wash the smell away out the window. Turning the lights on, even with a closed door, would've got you in trouble. Reggie was a night stalker.

Ben would trade posters with you everytime he wanted to reorganize his room.

Five would make you puke in your room by teleporting you around a kajillion times.

Allison would come to your room so you could style her hair.

You close the door as you leave, moving to Ben's. You can't enter, like the wound was torn into your skin just an hour ago. You look over the blank walls, your eyes set on where his old bookshelf sat.

In Five's room, newspapers were always plastered on the walls, much to Reginald's dismay. The foot of his bed usually housed a row of uniform shoes. There used to be a trunk under his bed where he kept his stuffed animals, which he'd outgrown before he disappeared. He couldn't bring himself to let go of them.

Diego approaches from behind, resting a light hand on your shoulder.

"You remember when Allison made a journal full of homes from magazines that she'd want to live in?"

You chuckle. "Yeah"

You're both quiet for a moment before he speaks again.

"Weird being here again"

You nod. "Hard to say goodbye to what raised you"

He nods. "I miss Mom"

"Me too"

[pillow-anime-talk]

where you go, i go.

request: i saw write for kagaya and as a simp for him, thank you! if i may, request a scenario where before the confrontation with muzan, kagaya had begged for reader to not be there with him but reader refuses. she takes a hold of his hand, bring his knuckles to her lips, pressing a gentle kiss on his hand. gently but firmly stating that he’s her companion in life. the love of her life. she will not leave him alone. she will stay right by his side no matter what may come to pass. [i had gotten the idea from the quote “we have lived together for many years. where you go, i go” of ida straus to her husband isidor straus. i think that this would suit the relationship] 

# tags: scenario; current marriage relationship; soft romance; drama; mostly angst; mention of death and crying; kagaya and reader have children; sfw?

includes: female reader ft. kagaya ubuyashiki {kny}

author’s note: it was a beautiful request and i’m sorry you waited so long for it! love u, anonnie ♥

These were hard months for people, for whole Demon Slayer Corps, and most of all for you and your loved one, who buried many of his combatants, many of his ‘children’. Both you and your husband knew that it was a matter of several hours before Muzan would reach your current place of residence and start wreaking havoc and murder innocent people, destroy crops and houses, and kill animals grazing in meadows or resting in stables and cowsheds. The Demon King wanted to catch both your partner and Tanjirou’s little demon sister, and you had to be prepared for that; both mentally and physically.

Your husband begged you to take your children and hide in a safe place for you (preferably underground with a supply of food and water), to run as far away as possible from the King walking towards you and forget about what has been going on for the last few months (e.g. to find someone better, someone with whom your future will be bright and peaceful). But you were stubborn, Kagaya knew it very well.

“...I’m begging you, Y/N. Just go away and live safely without me.” The blind man turned his head in your direction and you just frowned. The chirping of the last birds reached your ears, and you muttered something unintelligible under your breath.

“... Why would I leave a person who is my whole world?” You asked rhetorically and the man only sighed in response. You were really stubborn and stuck to your point. “We have lived together for many years, Kagaya. Where you go, I go. Do you remember? We promised that to each other on our wedding day.” You smiled softly, and the twenty-three-year-old seemed to sense your changing facial expressions. His heart, though it shouldn’t have, was beating faster.

“Yes, I know, my dear. But I don’t want anything bad to happen to you and kids, you need to understand that, Y/N.” He said, listening to the wind and the sound of flowing water from the tiny stream in front of your property. The rustle of leaves and bushes was also pleasant to the ear.

You moved closer to your husband and then took both of his hands in a strong grip. Kagaya obviously appreciated the gesture, and the moment you lifted his hands to your own warm lips and placed a tender kiss on both of his hands, he understood that you would not leave him, even if you go to certain deaths. It wasn’t your style, it wasn’t in your genes.

“So let’s get through this together.” He said in a low voice so as not to wake your sleeping children at home. You nodded your head, thanking him for his understanding.

“...Let us also die together.” You replied with a confident face and then hugged the man, inhaling his characteristic, pleasant smell reminiscent of old pine and fresh peonies. “Where you are, there I am.” You said, closing your eyes, dreaming of life and a world where there are no demons, death and war. About such a life where there are only you two, your offspring, laughter and love. 

It was a beautiful vision.

[throneofsapphics]

Hi can I request manorian x reader where she has a drinking problem and stopped but when she’s out with her friends they make her drink and it gets bad again :( manorian are frustrated, give me some angst and also then helping her

one day at a time

Manorian x Reader

Summary: “You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window.”

Warnings: alcoholism, not great handling of alcoholism, minor injury/description of blood, some angst, hint of fluff 

Word Count: ~3.2k

A/N: thank you for the request

“Just one,” she grinned at you. 

The problem was one always led to another, on and on until you slowly stopped remembering why you didn’t drink. As she slid it towards you, across the table, you knew you were making a mistake, but kept trying to justify it to yourself. 

The disappointed look on your friend's face when you turned the first two drinks down. 

It’s not like you said you would never drink again. Just that you’d keep it under control.

You wouldn’t go home for a few hours, that’s plenty of time to come back sober. Like you’d said - you’d promised to come home sober. 

Earlier, you’d told them you’d likely be home … but you said likely. They wouldn’t worry. Maybe. The fear of their disappointment, of them seeing you like this, overrode any common sense. You weren’t thinking clearly. If you were, you’d know they’d rather you come home drunk off your ass than not at all. 

Not quite in your right mind, you decided to stay the night at a friends apartment. 

One thing you forgot; the guards, waiting quietly for you in the shadows. Discreet enough you rarely saw them, at least two or three were always there, especially after the threat on your life a few months ago. The reason you’d stopped drinking in the first place. Nobody knew you had a problem. 

-

They watched as you took drink after drink, waiting for you to leave so they could make sure you got home safe. Under orders to make sure you got to the castle, through one of the side gates, without attracting attention. 

“She’s got a high tolerance,” he said under his breath, the man next to him chuckling. You twirled and danced, finally waiting until last call. They knew just how much you’d downed, but you played it off well, appearing mildly tipsy. 

As you strode for the door, arm in arm with a friend - the one who’d funneled drinks to you all night, they rose to follow. 

-

Turning onto her street, the path away from the castle, you only made it a few paces before you were intercepted. 

Shit. 

You’d forgotten they had people tailing you at all times. Felix, and someone behind him you vaguely recognized, his name slipping from your mind. 

“Castle’s this way,” he jerked his chin, an amused smile on his lips, probably thinking you’d just made a wrong turn. 

“I can’t go home like this,” the words stumbled into each other, your cheeks flushed red with alcohol, jerking your arm out of your friends. 

“We have more wine at our place,” a vice-like grip curled around your upper arm. Alcohol numbed you enough you didn’t sense the pain right away. Felix had tensed, eyeing her warily. “Come on,” she coaxed, nails digging in harder, warm liquid pooling on your arm. When you didn’t move - she tugged - hard enough you let out a small cry, your shoulder straining - maybe even popping. 

Everything happened quickly, you were separated from her, a third person, a woman, appeared from the shadows, a flash of metal, you were shoved behind someone. Shielded. Murmurs over the wind - words indistinct but undeniably a threat. If your arm wasn’t hurting like a bitch maybe you’d feel pity. 

It was repeating again. You were too drunk to stop someone, hurting you. Last time you’d barely gotten away. Even though she was a friend, likely meaning no harm, just unaware of your own strength, the realization brought tears to your eyes, quickly hidden as your good arm threw your cloak over your face. 

The guards were good. Not a single passerby sensed anything was wrong. 

They stuck close to you as you headed through the back gate, half-aware of everything around you.

Declining a visit to the healers, just wanting to be with them, you made it to the end of the hall before Manon was shoving through the door, stalking towards you, Dorian behind her. 

You couldn’t - wouldn’t look at them, and tried to skirt around her. She wasn’t having it, stepping to the side to block you. 

Taking a breath, you prepared yourself for the lecture - for the disappointment, only for her to gently lift your arm, gold eyes peering at the spot where your friend had gripped. Blood - that was the warmth from earlier. Why Manon came out so quickly - she’d scented your blood. 

“It’s fine,” you murmured quietly. She lifted it again and you winced, some of the pain catching up to you, the walk had sobered you enough. A small strain that would heal in time. 

“What. Happened?” You could tell her temper was balancing on a paper thin edge. 

How could you begin to explain the shit show? Thankfully Dorian started guiding you back towards the room, giving you time to think. 

After you were seated on the couch, a cup of tea pressed into your hand, Dorian against your side, Manon pacing in front of the fireplace - looking murderous, he spoke. 

“Who did that to you?” You raised your brows, surprised he wasn’t asking about why you were drunk. “We’ll get to that later,” he read your expression, and your head dropped.

“Who was it?” Manon hissed, murderous rage flooding from her. You’d have to convince her not to gut the guards who brought you back here. 

“It was an accident.” You winced as Manon pressed a finger into the fingertip shaped bruises, silently calling your bullshit. “It wasn’t on purpose,” you tried. She didn’t look convinced. 

-

“We’ll talk in the morning,” Dorian sighed, wrapping his arm around your waist. You’d insisted you were fine, ready. He didn’t want to stop you, even though he had a bad feeling - hence the clear orders he gave to get you back. Maybe he should’ve told them to keep you from drinking, but that felt a bit too invasive - and he’d trusted you when you said you were ready. 

You were, for all he knew. There was something else missing - other answers he needed to get. 

“I need you to stay here with her,” he said quietly, to Manon, as you were getting ready for bed, the bathroom door wide open. She agreed - quicker than he thought he would. He was going to get answers. 

Felix, the guard who spent the most time watching you, was waiting at the end of the hall, as if he was expecting someone to come looking for answers. Dorian watched a hint of relief cross the man’s features - probably that it was him, not Manon. He couldn’t blame him, his witch was terrifying on a good day. He gave a detailed and precise report of the night’s events - down to each detail, and Dorian remembered exactly why he requested for him to guard you. 

Objectively, he knew they’d done everything right - but he was still pissed you’d ended up injured, blood drawn by one of your ‘friends.’ As for the identity of the friend, he decided Manon would have to get you to tell her yourself.  

“Thank you,” he said at the end, giving a polite nod as the guard bowed, taking his leave. Dorian pressed his forehead against the stone wall, letting the rough and cool surface center him. Anger would get nowhere tonight. He’d been so fucking proud of you, and the disappointment stung. 

-

The next morning, your head was pounding. One hand shielding your eyes from the sun, an audible groan left your lips. Hungover. 

Hungover. Drinking. You’d broken last night. Fuck. 

The self-loathing hit a moment later. You knew they were next to you, one on each side, probably waiting for you to wake so they could talk, but the last thing you wanted was to face them. One drink, and all of your progress felt thrown out the window. 

“Good morning,” Manon drawled, and you forced your eyes to blink open, your hand to move. Her expression was too neutral. An obvious sign of her holding in her anger. “Who hurt you?” She followed up. 

Hurt? There was a tinge in your shoulder. Vaguely, you remembered one of your friends gripping you, her nails digging in, the wet drop of blood against your skin. “It was an accident,” you said quickly. 

She pulled the sheets down, revealing the angry blue-purple bruises, small indents of fingernails, on your upper arm. Her finger traced over them, barely touching. “That is not an accident,” she hissed. 

“They didn’t mean it,” you tried. Manon raised one brow. “Please, don’t hurt them.” Before breakfast, and you were already resorting to begging to keep her from murder. “I’ll promise not to see them again, if you won’t hurt them.” 

Her nostrils flared. You watched her debate it, whether or not to satisfy her bloodlust and rage. Part of you was endeared by this, at her protective streak, but the other part was very, very worried about having blood and death on your hands. 

“Fine,” she conceded. “How do you feel?” 

The words felt like a trap, but you answered honestly. “Like shit.” 

“Good.” Ouch. She ran a hand down your arm, skipping over the bruised area, and gently squeezed your hand. Tender, coming from her. “I’ll see you this afternoon.” You tried to sit up, to catch her and maybe give her a kiss or hug, but with preternatural speed, she’d already left the room. 

A pathetic and small broken noise left you, and a sigh reminded you of Dorian’s presence. 

“She’s just on edge.” His voice indicated he, too, was on edge. 

You were still half-raised, staring at the door, when he slid closer to you. Close enough to feel his body heat, but not to touch. Self loathing and destructive thoughts filled you. Maybe they didn’t want to touch you, maybe they thought you were disgusted enough you’d be packing your bags, heading right out of the castle. Your shoulders caved, curling in on yourself, eyes squeezed to fight tears. 

Dorian’s hand rested lightly on your good shoulder. “We’ll talk later.” 

Then he left, and you felt your fears were confirmed. 

Forcing yourself out of bed, you brushed your teeth, washed your face, scrubbed your body near raw - trying to erase any vague scent of alcohol. You had the day off work, and knew they’d both be busy. Tying a towel around yourself, you clutched the clothes from last night in one hand. Without hesitation, you threw them in the fire. The less reminders, the better.

That night, you all had a private dinner in your shared rooms. 

“Why?” Dorian asked, and you could tell he was trying and failing to keep his tone neutral. That was worse - you wanted anger, maybe frustration, anything else. 

“I don’t know,” you fidgeted with the ring on your middle finger, the one they’d both given you - not an engagement ring, just a physical representation of your commitment to each other. “I thought I was ready, but … I wasn’t. I gave in.” 

You didn’t need to say what you gave into. It was obvious - the atmosphere, peer pressure, temptation. Glancing up, they both tried to hide it - Dorian more than Manon - but the disappointment was there and gods you hated yourself even more. Subconsciously, you began to slide the ring down your finger. Before it could reach your middle knuckle, Manon’s hand had clasped over your own. 

“Don’t,” she nearly snarled, lifting just enough to slide the ring back up, before retracting her hand quickly, like she couldn’t bear to touch you longer than necessary. At least they didn’t want to leave you. Yet, a voice in your mind whispered. 

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed, nodding. Any words might lead to tears. Dorian sent you a smile, but it was strained - forced. Didn’t they understand you hated yourself now? More disappointed and frustrated with yourself than they ever could be? Maybe, maybe not, but it wasn’t worth saying. Quickly gulping down the rest of your water, you excused yourself. 

Finding your favorite chair in the small personal library, closest to the fire, you tried to read, but your eyes scanned the same page at least ten times. Everything would be fine. It wouldn’t happen again, and … hopefully whatever divide came between the three of you would mend. 

-

Manon knew you were avoiding them. But, she’d always been under the impression that if someone needed help, they either had to ask or do it themselves. You’d come to them the first time, and she was waiting for you to do it again. At communal dinners, she watched how your eyes would waver towards the various bottles of wine or liquor, before averting quickly - as if they’d burn you for looking at them. Your hand would twitch if one got particularly close. Dorian had noticed too, and said nothing. Maybe that’s what you wanted? For them to pretend it never happened? 

As another week passed of your distance, she grew tired over it. Fine. If you wouldn’t ask for help, she’d go to you. 

Dorian would be out late, and she headed back to the rooms - knowing you’d already be settling in. 

Inside, she saw something that nearly made her blood boil. A bottle of wine sat on the coffee table, a small note attached to it. You sat on the couch, arms wrapped around your knees, physically shaking - staring at it, a haunted look in your eyes. 

Slowly, she stalked towards you. No glasses, the bottle wasn’t open. Getting closer, she picked the bottle up, watching you from the corner of her eyes. You kept your gaze straight ahead, switching to the wall, pointedly avoiding her. At least you weren’t fleeing the room. 

Witch senses helped, and she could tell you only touched the note - not the bottle. 

“We’ve been missing you, come out of hiding soon! First round is on me.”

A female, one of your former friends, signed underneath it. She walked around the couch, placing the bottle out of view, before crouching in front of you, putting herself directly in your line of sight, forcing you to look at her. 

“I told them before,” your voice was just above a whisper, “that I’d stopped.” 

She noticed the blue-purple bags under your eyes, the pain in your eyes. 

“And they still pushed you?” Manon was fighting to keep her temper even as you nodded. “Not very good friends,” she commented. “You should’ve let me kill them.” 

A choked laugh left you, and she thought that was a fairly good sign. “I don’t need blood on my hands,” the corner of your lips tilted. A smile you were fighting rather than forcing, she liked that. Manon knew you liked how protective she could be, even if it irked her you rarely ‘let’ her act on it, not that she always asked for your permission. 

Still, it was about time she got to the point of this. “Do you need help?” 

The smile left, your arms tightened around your knees again. One small jerk of your chin. Manon raised a brow. “Yes,” you sighed. 

Years with you had taught Manon more of what human’s needed, liked, and granted these things grew on her as well. She wrapped an arm around your shoulders, chuckling at how you quickly unwrapped and hugged her midsection instead, leaning your head into the space between her chest and shoulder. Before you and Dorian, she never thought she would’ve missed physical touch this much. But, as you not-so-discreetly moved close enough you were nearly on her lap, she realized she didn’t want to go another two weeks without this kind of closeness. 

-

Dorian spotted the bottle of wine tucked away on the kitchen counter first, his eyes widening in alarm. A closer look told him it was still closed, and a note was tied around it. The contents of said note pissed him off. That’s the last thing you need right now. Gazing over his shoulder, he saw Manon shooting him a warning glance. A keep fucking quiet, if he read it correctly. You were there too, curled up around her. 

How long had it been since he spotted the two of you like this? Too damn long. But … Manon had probably been with you for a few hours by now, he could justify interrupting. It was only fair to share. 

Striding across the room, lips curving into a wicked grin, Manon’s golden eyes narrowing into a glare, he sat heavier than necessary next to the two of you, one hand brushing over your knee. 

Your pretty eyes blinked open, small bags lining them. Had you not been sleeping well? He hated that he didn’t notice it before now. 

“Hello love,” he ran his hand up and down your thigh, in calm and soothing strokes. 

“Hello,” you murmured back. 

“Tired?” 

“No,” you yawned, covering your mouth. 

“Mhm,” he slid one arm under your knees, the other behind your shoulders, ignoring Manon’s snarl and carted you off towards bed. 

Manon stood in the doorway, silver hair gleaming, arms crossed. “I have a few reports to read,” she said gruffly. 

“Can’t you do that here?” He could tell you were trying to keep the whine from your voice. Manon’s eyes softened briefly. 

“The two of you are too distracting,” she spun on her heel, closing the door softly behind them, not giving either of you the chance for a snarky reply. 

“I can’t get you to myself for a while?” He teased. You blushed, and his fingers trailed over the heated areas as they turned a brighter shade of pink. 

“Of course you can,” you mumbled, hand running over the back of your neck. You wanted to talk - maybe not wanted, but needed. Dorian needed it as well, even if it was the last thing he wanted to do right now. “Are you mad at me?” You asked. 

Honestly, he reminded himself, and took in a steady breath. “I was at first,” he said cautiously. Resignation showed on your face, along with a glimmer of hope. He’d said at first. Wording was important, and he still treaded carefully. “But, I haven’t been in your … situation, so I can’t say I understand - or what I would have done.” He didn’t recognize the emotion that flashed in your eyes, but it didn’t look negative, so he continued. “I want to help you,” he gripped both of your hands, pressing a kiss to the ring he’d given you last year. “If you’ll let me.” 

Tears started to glimmer, lining your eyes. Maybe you’d wanted help this time, but been scared to ask for it, or were ashamed, or - Dorian reminded himself not to make assumptions.  

“I’d like your help,” you said quietly, blinking. His thumb brushed away the tears, and your head tilted. “Did you and Manon coordinate this?” 

It was his turn to blink. “No,” he shook his head. A pleased expression crossed your face. Apparently that’s what the two of you had spoken of earlier. “Did she ask if you wanted help?” A nod confirmed it. Subconsciously, his lips quirked up at the corners. Figures they'd both ask on the same day, and that Manon would beat him to it. "We'll take it one day at a time," he assured you.

"Thank you," you tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle another yawn and he figured now’s a good time to table the discussion. 

“We can talk more tomorrow.” 

You looked relieved, and nearly dragged him into bed.

[pedroscurls]

Dirty Little Secret (Part 1).

Character(s): no-outbreak, age-gap!Joel Miller x fem!Reader Summary: You meet Joel Miller, the father of the bride. Word count: 1.9k A/N: Lol, I said I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I couldn't wait. I hope you guys enjoy this first part and thank you to anyone who reads this! As mentioned, idk what to call this, best friend’s fiancée’s dad!Joel x fem!reader? Lol, I feel like that's a bit complicated, but there's an age gap in this story. This is also pulled from my own experience (only the sexual tension... unfortunately nothin' happened lol🫣) Warning: age-gap (Joel is in his 50s, reader is in her early-30s) SERIES MASTERLIST

“So… Can you make it?”

“I wouldn’t miss it, Drew.” you tell your best friend, gently nudging his shoulder. “I just still can’t believe you’re finally settling down. I never thought I’d see the day.”

He laughs. Andrew - or Drew - has been your best friend since you were kids. You had moved into the neighborhood with your mom after she and your dad divorced and you remember how Drew and his family had welcomed you with open arms whenever your mom was too inebriated to take care of you. 

Living next door to Drew and his family was a godsend to you, especially at the young age of eight. They protected you. They made you feel safe, made you feel loved. It was always a stark contrast between your home and his. Drew’s house, from the moment you stepped foot inside, always gave you the warm feeling in your belly and you always found yourself never wanting to leave, not wanting to go back home to the empty and lonely feeling that you experienced every night. 

And now, over twenty years later, Drew and his family have maintained that unspoken promise to keep you safe, to protect you, and to always make sure that you were loved. 

“Yeah, yeah,” Drew rolls his eyes. “What about you? When are you gonna settle down?” 

Now it was your turn to laugh. You grab your wine glass and finish the last remaining liquid. “I’m not the marrying type,” you respond. 

“You won’t turn out like your parents,” he says softly. 

“Drew, I know,” you sigh. “I just– I don’t want to open myself up like that. It’s too scary.” 

“You never know,” Drew smiles. “I thought I liked being single, being with a different woman every week or so, but Sarah…” he lets out a sigh of contentment. “She’s just– It’s been four years since we’ve been together and I think I fall more in love with her every day.” 

“Okay, lover boy,” you chuckle. “We get it. You’re in love. You’re about to get married… But I agree with you. She’s the best, and she’s the only one of your girlfriends where she didn’t feel intimidated by me or our friendship.” 

Drew sighs, “I know. It’s the curse of having a woman as a best friend.” 

“Whatever,” you roll your eyes. “The women before Sarah were just jealous and not confident or secure in their relationship with you.” 

Drew nods. “That’s true. Besides, you’re like a sister to me.” He smiles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. 

“Like a big sister?” You tease. “Just kidding, we’re only a year apart.” 

“Yeah, and I’m the older one.”

Just as you were going to say something, Sarah steps out into the backyard and walks in your direction. You look over at Drew and smile to yourself, seeing the way his eyes light up when he sees her and how he immediately stands up to meet her half way, enveloping her in a tight embrace. 

“Hi, baby,” he whispers, gently kissing her temple. “How’d dinner with your dad go?” 

“It was good. He was asking about you. Same with Uncle Tommy.” 

“Ah,” he chuckles. “They’re gonna give me shit the next time I see them, aren’t they?” 

Sarah grins and you swear that you see Drew fall in love all over again with the sight of her smile. You can see her deep dimples on her cheeks and how her eyes soften and also seem to smile. It was one of the first things you noticed about her: the kind and warm look she gave you – it was the same look that Drew and his family looked at you. 

“You know it. Now, let me go say hi to my girl. Can you go inside and pour me a glass of wine?” 

Drew nods and kisses her cheek before he disappears inside the house. Sarah takes his seat and looks over at you, arching her brow. 

“What?” you ask. 

“I might have someone that is interested…” she grins. 

“Sarah,” you chuckle. “You and Drew need to stop playing matchmaker. The past two blind dates I have been on have been terrible.” 

“You didn’t even give it a chance,” Sarah sighs. 

“You know I like older guys,” you smile. “I just don’t want to settle down. Getting married and all that doesn’t have to happen for everyone.”

“I know,” she leans against you. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And a man isn’t gonna be the answer.” You look over at her. You can see the concern on her features – that was another thing that you learned about Sarah. She wears her heart on her sleeve and whenever she gets worried about the people she cares about, her face and expressions tell it all. “I’m fine,” you reassure her. “I got you and I got Drew. That’s all I need.” 

“Maybe I should set you up with my Uncle Tommy,” she teases, letting out a quiet laugh. “He’s older. Single. He needs a good woman to anchor him down.” 

“And why’s that?” you smile. “Is he trouble, Sarah?” 

She laughs, shaking her head. “No, he just hasn’t found someone yet.” 

“Like me,” you point out. 

“He’s older,” she chuckles. 

“Well, your engagement party is this weekend. I’m assuming he’s gonna be there?” you tease. 

“Oh my god, are you serious?” You see the light in her eyes, the excitement across her features. 

“No! He’s your uncle, how weird would that be?” 

“Not weird,” she laughs. “It’d be weird if it was my dad you were interested in.” 

“Isn’t he like fifty?” 

“More than that, fifty-six.” 

Drew steps out into the backyard with two glasses of wine, one for Sarah and another refill for you. 

“Is this an early celebration?” you tease. 

“We just wanna celebrate with you one-on-one before the pre-wedding festivities begin. It’s gonna be a lot,” Drew replies, sitting next to Sarah and wrapping his arm around her shoulders instantly. 

“Well, whatever you both need, just let me know. After all, I am your best woman,” you tell Drew. 

Sarah smiles and leans against Drew, bringing the glass of wine to her lips. “It’s gonna be fun,” she adds. “But Drew’s right. It will be a lot, so this is kind of like the calm before the storm.”

“Well, cheers to that then,” you laugh, raising your glass. “Cheers to you both and cheers for what’s to come.” 

You’re running late and by the time you reach Sarah dad’s house, there are so many cars that you have to park at the end of the street. You’re practically sprinting to the house, hearing the music and laughter coming from the backyard. You’re wearing a sleeveless navy blue satin dress that stops just past your knees, the thin spaghetti straps resting on your shoulders with a cowl neckline. Their engagement party is semi-formal and you can feel your feet begin to ache from the heels you’re wearing. 

Your hair is in loose curls and you’re about to knock on the door when it swings open. You look up at the man, feeling your breath immediately escape you. His hair is slicked back, tinges of gray in the dark brown. You notice his beard, patchy in some areas, his plump lips begging to be kissed, but as you obviously ogle this man, you don’t realize that he’s actually speaking to you. 

“Are ya lost?” his voice is deep, rough, and you just want to hear it against your ear as he’s thrusting– “Are ya here for the party?” 

“Yeah, sorry. I’m late. I’m Drew’s best woman–”

“Ah,” he interrupts. “You are late.” 

You can’t think. The sounds of the music and laughter drown out as you stare up at this man. He’s wearing black slacks and a dark green button up with the sleeves folded to his elbows. He’s staring at you too, though, hand remaining on the doorknob as he looks at you in amusement. 

“You gonna let me in or stand guard all day?” you say, trying to snap yourself out of this trance. For a split second, you forget why you’re here and all you can think about is talking to this man and having him take you up to his–

“That depends,” he smirks, the dimple on his right cheek appearing. “You gonna be polite and say please?” 

You blush. You’re sure he didn’t mean for it to come out the way it did, but you can’t help but notice the way his eyes linger on your frame. It gives you a bit of confidence as you step up to him, inches now separating your bodies. 

“Please,” you whisper. 

You see his smirk falter, his jaw tighten and instead of responding, he nods and steps aside to give some space between the both of you. 

“They’re in the backyard,” he adds. You step past him, looking over your shoulder at him to see that his eyes had fallen on your backside. When he looks up at you and realizes that you had caught him staring, he immediately clears his throat and points towards the driveway. “I’m just gonna–”

“Wait,” you interrupt, reaching out to rest a hand on his forearm. “I didn’t get your name.” 

“Joel,” he responds. “Sarah’s dad.” 

Then, he removes himself from your grasp and walks out, shutting the door behind him. You clear your throat, biting the inside of your cheek. 

“Shit,” you whisper to yourself. “He does not look fifty-six.” You turn on your heel, following the sound of chatter and music as you try to rid yourself of the lingering thoughts of Joel. 

Joel isn’t expecting Drew’s best woman to look like you. When he opens the door and you’re standing on his doorstep in that dress, it takes every ounce of him not to look at you from top to bottom. It helps, though, that he notices you staring at him like you want him. It actually gives him confidence that a pretty thing like you is finding him attractive enough that you’re distracted enough not to hear what he’s actually saying. 

But then he hears you say that you’re Drew’s best woman. It all but crushes him, crushes any ounce of hope he was holding onto that maybe at the end of the night he’d take you to his bed. You’re off limits and you’re certainly too young for him, but he can’t help himself. 

He can’t help but ask you to beg and say please to come in. 

And when you do, without any hesitation, he feels the blood immediately rush towards the center of his pants. When you step closer to him, Joel has to tighten his jaw and tighten the grip he has on the doorknob. It anchors him, gives him something to ground himself or else he is going to lose his resolve… quick. 

When you finally step inside and walk past him, he turns just slightly to glance at your backside. The dress you’re wearing accentuates every curve while remaining modest enough, but he can’t help himself. Though, when Joel does look up, he feels embarrassed that you’ve caught him staring. 

He has to step outside, has to create some distance between him and you, but then he feels your soft touch on his forearm and it causes a shiver to run down his back. After he tells you that he’s Sarah’s dad, Joel doesn’t bother to wait to see your reaction. Instead, he leaves you standing there while he steps out of his house, shutting the door behind him and shutting the door to the inappropriate thoughts that fill his mind.

next.

[momojedi]

— as beautiful as the day i lost you pairing. echo x gn! jedi reader

**

type. oneshot, fluff note. watched the bad batch arc with my dad and he came to appreciate echo as much as I do so I wanted to write a lil about him &lt;3 warnings. really fluffy, mentions of order 66 taglist. @patapouille (open for more)

star wars masterlist

“Don’t shoot!” The clone stands still and carefully holds up his hands, dropping the blaster gun as a peace offering. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” He motions his two companions to follow his lead and lower their weapons.

I hesitate. After the past couple weeks of running from the Empire and having friends turn to foes amidst battle when Order 66 was declared, I’ve lost all ability to trust anyone, especially clone troopers. The warm and friendly gaze replaced by that sudden hatred in their eyes is still a vivid memory on my mind, ever since that fateful day.

But if this really isn’t some evil scheme led by an imperial commander and if that trooper really is telling the truth then perhaps finally letting my guard down might not be as bad of an idea as it seems. After all, I feel no evil sensation, no malice in the force but rather … a familiar one.

I frown. Despite being like no troopers I have ever met before with their dark armour and their unique looks, something about them felt warm and inviting, like coming home from a hard mission back into the arms of a loved one.

I shake my head and lower the lightsaber I’ve been gripping so tightly, my knuckles now slowly turning white. “Who are you?”

The trooper - their leader I suspect - takes a hold of his helmet and pulls it off in a swift motion, dark hair falling over his shoulders. His face is halfway covered in a tattoo and he looks at me in a calm yet strict demeanour. “The name’s Hunter. We,” he gestures towards the two other men, one impossibly huge towering over the other two with a skull on his helmet and the other slender with grey armour, a pair of piercing eyes glaring at me through the goggles of his helmet, “are the Bad Batch.”

The Bad Batch, eh? I narrow my eyes thoughtfully as I dimly remember Captain Rex mentioning them before when Master Skywalker stopped at the Jedi Temple for a debriefing and updates on the current war situation. My face darkens as the clone captain of the 501st crosses my mind. Had he executed Order 66 as well? Was Master Skywalker even … still alive?

The ghost of a smile lingers on my lips as the chaotic battalion comes to my mind. I had worked with them more than once in the past, mostly involving their ARC trooper duo Fives and Echo, the latter of whom I’d developed very close relationship with, dare I say romantic even. Despite being forbidden and likely resulting in my banishment and his execution if it would’ve ever come to light, we grew incredibly fond of each other, stealing kisses and loving glances whenever we had the chance to. However, after Echo’s death in the Citadel, I refused to work with the 501st any longer when the mere memories of him proved to be too painful for me to handle properly.

I shake my head, no, this isn’t the time to mourn. “Tech, tell them it’s safe too come out.” Hunter’s voice catches my attention as the grey clone nods and walks to the back of the cantina, presumably to comm whoever else they are hiding. Then, Hunter turns back to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s your name, anyway?” I eye him for a second before introducing myself. “How come you’re not killing me? Isn’t that kind of what all clones do now?” Hunter winces at that. “We got our chips removed recently so… don’t worry, we shouldn’t be a threat to you.”

“Hunter! Is everything okay?” A small voice squeals, catching me off guard as I turn to its source. Through the back doors of the cantina, a small girl runs towards him, barely noticing me. I raise a brow at that before glancing at the other person trailing behind her. Like the other three men in the room, the person - who I assume to be another clone - is covered in dark armour, a white ‘99’ imprinted on the plate of his helmet. One of his arms is replaced by a scomp, likely proving useful to slice into things.

When the clone takes notice of me, he freezes. I hum quietly, remembering one of my Jedi contacts’ words shortly after the Purge was declared; maybe he’s scared the Jedi might take revenge on him?

Unsure on how I should put him at ease, I smile slightly and clip the hilt of my saber to my belt before raising my hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” I hold back a slight scoff at those words. ‘After all it should be us who should be scared of you,’ I think.

The clone still doesn’t budge, seemingly staring at me from under his helmet before finally raising his arms to push it off his head and revealing —

I’d recognise that familiar tingle in the force among millions. For a second, the world seems to stop as Echo’s warm eyes meet mine. It’s only the noisy clattering of his helmet meeting the ground that rips me out of my trance and I immediately feel my eyes well up with tears.

“Echo?” I croak, almost in a whisper. Despite my internal struggle, my body refuses to move. But I don’t have to because before I know it, Echo has already rushed over to me and scooped me into a tight hug. Suddenly, I feel the tears spilling as I bury my face in his chest plate, gripping him desperately as if he’d disappear any second if I were to let him go. “I - I thought you were — ” My words are interrupted by a broken sob.

Gently shushing me, Echo pulls away before cradling my face in both his hand and the tip of his scomp. “It’s okay, everything’s okay, mesh’la.” His voice is steady but I can’t help but notice the light tremble in his words as he pulls my forehead against his. Unable to properly use my words right now, I just nod quickly.

“Look at you,” he mumbles breathlessly, a small chuckle laced with disbelief escaping him, “you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

Without a second thought I pull him into a deep kiss which he happily indulges in, knowing fully well that I won’t ever let him go again.

[starogeorgina]

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬

Paring: Harwin Strong × reader

Warnings: None

3.05

Sniffling, you pull a fur blanket further around your shoulders to keep warm as you slump further into the massive four-poster bed that dominates the room, it's dark wood carved into dragons, which matched the elaborate designs that declared the room. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries depicting scenes from Targaryen history, with hints of different magical creatures woven into the design.

“No.”

“Vaella…”

“I forbid it,” you protest, your hand barely wrapping around Harwin’s wrist when you hold onto him. “You cannot leave me, our children, and go to Harrenhal.”

He lowers his head. “You would forbid me from escorting my father home?”

“If I must,” you whisper. “I would have you locked away in a tower if I thought it would keep you safe.”

“You have seen my father; he’s not a well-mannered man, and if the rumors about my brother are true, then he’s not safe in the keep. He needs to go home and be tended to by the maesters there.”

It might have been a nightmare all those years ago instead of a dragon dream, but you weren’t willing to risk your husband's life by finding out. “I saw you die in a vision! I saw Harrenhal burn to the ground with you inside it. I am begging you, Harwin, to not make the horror of losing you a reality for me. I wouldn’t be able to bear it, nor would our children.”

His eyes are glassy with unshed tears. “And what of my father?”

“The maester on Dragonstone can attend to him. You’ve seen firsthand how skilled Maester Gerardys is. I trust him not only to take care of us but also of our children, my sister, and the king. I promise he will do the best he can for your father.” Seeing his hands tremble, you hold onto them. “Please, just bring your father to Dragonstone; if he wishes to be with his wife, then invite your stepmother and sisters as well.”

“It’s not my decision to make.” He says it more firmly. “My father says he wants to go home, and I won’t stand in his way.”

Your eyes sting as fresh tears fall from them. Harwin would never leave his family unless he deemed it absolutely necessary, but it didn’t ease the pain of him going. You never thought you'd have to say goodbye to the one person who felt like home to you.

“Mama?”

Being so lost in your thoughts, you never heard Vaegon entering the room. When he climbs into the bed beside you, you brush his thick hair, which was growing rather long, out of his eyes. “Why aren’t you sleeping, my sweet?”

He says nothing.

Sensing his uncertainty, you put your arm around him, kissing the top of his head. Out of all your children, Vaegon was the least likely to come up with a problem when he usually admits to dealing with things himself. “Whatever is wrong, you can tell me.”

“Promise you won’t get mad.”

“I promise,” you smile sadly at him, “but I need to know what is keeping my son up at night.”

Nervously, he says, “It’s this place.”

“Kings landing?”

“The people here aren’t as nice. I see the way the lords and ladies look at me and my brother. The queen and her children make fun of us for not looking like Targaryen or Lannister.” He bends his legs and rests his head against his knees, looking up at you. “Is Harwin Strong my real father?”

“You are so loved; always remember that.” You kiss his forehead again as tears swell in your eyes again. “Thomas Lannister being your father keeps you and Aerion safe. Do you understand?”

He nods.

It was clear that although Vaegon had inherited your temper and stubbornness, he had his father's kind-hearted nature and understanding. “Can you tell me how you and my father got together?”

It was almost frightening how smart and observant your son was for still being so young. “I will one day, my sweet, I promise, but not tonight. We need to rest before returning home tomorrow.”

—

Soon as it was an appropriate time, you visited your father to say goodbye with the promise of returning to visit him soon on dragon back along with Rhaenyra. When you leave his chambers, you intend to go straight to the gods wood, where your sister is waiting with the children and Ser Laenor to join them; however, you are stopped in the hallway before you make it outside.

“I hope you don’t mind my saying this, but you are a positively glowing princess. Being with a child agrees with you.”

Goosebumps spread across your body at the compliment. Unbidden tears had been coming to your eyes since Harwin left, but you forced yourself to be polite and smile at the clubfoot.

A creepy grin spreads across Lary's face as he leans against his cane, with an intense look on his face. “I assume my niece hasn’t accompanied you to visit her grandsire this morning.”

“You would be correct, Lord Larys; the princess was breaking fast when I left.”

“That’s a pity. I overheard Elinda Massey, your sister’s lady-in-waiting, saying farewell to some of the handmaids. I can only assume you are leaving for Dragonstone today, and the princess is accompanying you.”

You didn’t want to give him any further information as needed, plus being alone with him was bringing on a wave of nausea. “Yes, I asked Princess Rhaenyra to come and stay, at least until my baby is born.”

“That seems like a wise decision. I have heard pregnancy can be a woman’s loneliest time.”

Continuing to fake a smile, you say, “I better be going, my Lord; I don’t want to keep the children waiting. I shall see you upon my return.”

As you walk by him, Larys smugly asks, “I heard my father and brother left to return to my family home last night; is that true?”

“Yes, they left during the night since your father was feeling unwell.”

“Oh, I suspect they didn’t want to bother me during the night by saying goodbye; not to worry. Since they should be arriving by nightfall tonight, I shall expect to receive a raven from them tomorrow.”

—

The walk to the entrance of the castle was mainly in silence, aside from Luke expressing how excited he was that the island would be his new home. You had grown fond of the salty air of Dragonstone, which smells of smoke and brimstone, and usually enjoyed the long walk across the bridge, but it always made you nervous to see children on it.

Aerion holds your hand with a glum expression. Ada walks in front of you with Vaegon and Jace on either side of her, holding their hands. Luke walks with his father while Rhaenyra is carrying her babe.

Sensing your distance, your sister slows her pace. “Did you find our brother before we left?”

“No, I’m ashamed to admit I got rather distracted, but I intend to send him a raven as soon as the children are settled. I want Aegon to know he is always welcome.”

“Perhaps he comes out, sweet sister, and other brothers will be more inclined to as well.”

Looking over his shoulder, Vaegon frowns at you. He couldn’t comprehend why you wanted to have a relationship with your siblings after witnessing how badly Alicent, Otto, and Criston treated one side of your family, but you had faith that the bad blood wouldn’t extend to the younger generation of House Targaryen.

—

You walk beneath the heavy red doors entering the great hall, which are set in the mouth, and are shocked to see fresh food and drink already being placed on the high table on the raised platform.

“Father!”

Ada lets go of her brother and cousin's grip and runs towards Harwin, whom you had failed to notice standing on the opposite side of the room. He lifts Ada up with ease and kisses her cheek. “Have you been good for your mother?”

“My love,” you whisper, your heart racing as you cross the room to him.

Ada nods. “Yes, and I held Joffrey on the boat.”

“Did you now?” He smiles wildly before placing her back on the ground. “Now, go with your brothers to wash up before we eat.”

When your daughter skips off happily, Harwin wraps his arms around you, holding you as close as your bump would allow. His eyes look heavier than normal, and his skin looks like porcelain. He licks at his dry lips. “We got as far as a tavern in Rosby when I finally convinced my father to come to Dragonstone.”

“Where is Ser Lyonel?”

“He was resting, but I suspect he will be down shortly. We had planned for the meal to be ready by the time you arrived.”

“No,” he says quietly. “But the thought of you being upset is worse than him being mad. I wanted to go back to the keep first, but my father was vomiting a lot and didn’t want to extend the journey further than needed.”

You squeeze his arm and say, “I’m just glad we are all home and safe.”

—

Soon as the sun rose the following day, you spoke with Maester Gerardys privately. Both Harwin and Rhaenyra were stressed from events that had taken place the last few days, and you didn’t want to worry them that you had been feeling rather poorly since the start of this pregnancy. The constant nausea, vomiting, and indigestion were one thing, but the intense back pain was becoming concerning.

However, after speaking with the maester, you walk back to your bed chamber filled with relief. Maester Gerardys had no concerns regarding your baby and even suggested you might be carrying twins again.

“Good morning, princess.”

“Good morning, Ser Qarl.” You smile as the knight bows his head before continuing along the hallways.

Ser Qarl Correy had fought during the battle of the Stepstones, and your cousin Laenor is your current lover. Rhaenyra had insisted that Laenor take him to Dragonstone as well, so that her husband wouldn’t be so lonely.

You enter your chambers, being careful not to make too much noise in case Harwin was still asleep, but you notice his back as you near the sitting area. You remove your overcoat and excitedly approach him. “My love, I’ve... oh, forgive me, Lord Lyonel. I didn’t realize you would be joining us this morning.”

Seeing the mortification on your face, your lady brings you a thicker robe, which covers you more appropriately since you only had a nightgown. You were surprised to see his father so early in the morning, especially since Harwin would usually bring your daughter and sons to break fast as soon as he woke.

“Thank you,” you say quietly. “Are the children awake?”

“No princess; Ser Harwin has asked me to let princes and princesses sleep in,” she whispers.

You offer her a small smile before returning to your husband and father-in-law. Now that you weren’t so startled, you could see how distressed they both looked. Lord Lyonel was sitting with his head in his hands, and Harwin seemed utterly lost as he stared ahead with bloodshot eyes.

“Harwin, what’s going on?”

Harwin clears his throat, but his voice is still shaky as he speaks. “A raven arrived from Harrenhal this morning; there was a fire last night. My sisters and stepmother are dead.”

[fanficdelulus]

Enervation

Fate (Gojo x Fem! Reader)

(Tw: blood, violence, and death)

————————————————

The relief was palpable as you and the others, including Satoru, entered Jujutsu High's barrier. Yawning along with him, you couldn't help but smile as Riko and Kuroi expressed their relief. It had been quite an eventful three days, but you had all made it back safely to the protection of the school's barrier.

Satoru couldn't help but express his exhaustion. "No more... no more babysitting," he grumbled, his tone laced with fatigue. You, however, couldn't resist a tired giggle. With a gentle yet, playfully slap to his chest you reminded him, "Don't be such a grouch, we made it home!" Your words were a light-hearted way to acknowledge the successful mission and the safety you all had secured.

Satoru's playful grin was infectious, and your laughter resonated in the warm afternoon air. Suguru extended his heartfelt gratitude for the hard work both of you had put into the mission, and a sense of pride began to well up within you, knowing that you had actually contributed to the team's success.

But this moment of camaraderie was brutally interrupted. Your body instinctively recoiled as your eyes widened in shock. Tranquility shattering as you watched in disbelief, a sword suddenly piercing through Satoru, the blade stained crimson with his blood, dread settling heavily in your chest.

"Do I... know you?" Satoru panted, sweat dripping down his face, his charismatic grin tinged with unease. The atmosphere had shifted drastically, and then your blood ran cold as soon as the man behind the blade spoke.

“Nah don’t sweat it, I don’t care to remember names unless they mean money,” Toji gruffly responded from behind Satoru, his voice laced with a sinister edge.

Toji's presence sent shivers down your spine, awakening a torrent of emotions that you had suppressed for so long. You could still vividly remember the fear in your parents' eyes as they tried to protect you from him. The pain of your injuries, the moment your curse energy manifested in response to the life-threatening wounds, and the relentless struggle for survival.

The knowledge that Toji had brutally taken your parents from you, and had almost taken your life, was a heavy weight that had haunted you for years. Now, here he was, as if fate had brought him back into your life.

In the heat of the moment, your instincts kicked in as you swiftly moved toward Satoru, the urgency to help him and protect your friends taking over. Suguru summoned his largest cursed caterpillar to shield Riko and Kuroi from potential harm, ensuring their safety.

Toji's landing was a testament to his agility and skill, keeping him as a significant threat. Satoru, regaining his balance, provided a more detailed explanation to put your fears to rest. "I'm fine," he began, his voice steady. "My curse technique didn't activate in time, but I managed to minimize the damage. He didn't hit any vital organs." His words carried an air of calm, alleviating your worries.

A chill runs down your spine as Toji recognizes you. "You're [Surname]'s kid," he darkly chuckles, leveling his sword at you. Your heart raced with fear as Toji recognized you. Satoru immediately sensed your panic and instinctively acted as your shield, placing himself between you and the menacing figure.

Toji's disturbing words hung in the air as he cruelly remarked, "You've got a ton of curse energy now, all because I killed your parents. You should be grateful; I mean, you could always pay me the extra twenty grand I was promised for taking your life." His sadistic humor sent shivers down your spine.

Suddenly, Suguru's cursed caterpillar sprang up from the ground, swiftly swallowing Toji whole.

"Amanai is our priority," Satoru's voice snapped you out of your daze. You looked into his aquamarine eyes, a sense of urgency filling the air. He continued, "You need to go with Suguru. I'll take care of this." Hesitating, your fear for Satoru's safety evident in your [e/c] eyes. "Satoru, he's... he's a monster. Don't let your guard down around him," you softly warned as you ran toward Suguru and the others.

Satoru, undeterred by the situation, turned toward the blade that had pierced through the caterpillar's thick skin. With a smirk, he quipped,

“I’m amongst the strongest aren’t I?”

————————————————

A heavy but touching moment unfolded as Riko and Kuroi shared their goodbyes. Kuroi's voice trembled with emotion, "Master Riko, this is as far as I go. Please take—" before Riko leaped into her arms, tears streaming down her face. "Kuroi, I love you!" She cried. "Always and forever."

"I love you too!" Kuroi tearfully replied. The two shared an emotional farewell, and your heart ached as you and Suguru observed this poignant scene from the chamber's main entrance.

Holding Riko's hand, you offered her a reassuring smile as the three of you descended into the main hall of the Tomb of the Star.

It hadn’t taken long for you to reach your final stop."We're just outside of where Master Tengen is." Suguru informed. Your eyes wandered in awe as you took in the sheer scale of this massive underground structure.

"Are you ready, Riko?" you asked, offering her a supportive smile as she nodded in a mix of fear and determination. "You'll need to head downstairs and pass that gate, then head towards the base of the huge tree. Once you're there, Master Tengen will protect you until the merger." Suguru instructed as Riko tried to bravely let go of her hold on you, her hand lingering as she shakily gazed down at the tomb.

“Or you could turn back and go home with Kuroi” Suguru said as he turned towards Riko. “Before we met you, the three of us decided that if you didn’t want to merge Satoru and I would take responsibility for it.” Suguru finally explained.

Shock was evident on her face as you happily giggled at her expression. “We’re the strongest, so whatever you choose we promise to protect your future” smiling as he finished.

Tears welled up in Riko's eyes as Suguru revealed their plan. Your heart swelled with affection for the young girl. Riko wiped away her tears with the back of her hand, her expression a mix of gratitude and relief.

"You guys really... care about me that much?" She trembled as she spoke, touched by your words. "We really do," you replied, your voice filled with sincerity, Suguru nodding in agreement as well.

“I thought that because I didn’t have anyone that the loneliness and sadness would disappear with the merger but; I want to be with everyone” Riko cried as made her way towards the two of you.

Opening your arms as a smile spread across both of your faces, she was nearly in your arms until a loud bang filled the chamber.

Dread and disbelief washed over you as you looked down at Riko's lifeless body. Time seemed to slow to a crawl. Your trembling hands reached out to touch her, unable to accept the horrifying reality that had just unfolded. Tears welled up in your eyes as you cradled her, the joy from moments ago now turned into an overwhelming sorrow.

"Riko!" You cried out, your voice choked with grief. The chamber, once filled with hope, had transformed into a scene of tragedy.

"Time to wrap things up now," Toji announced, stepping out from the shadows, a malevolent grin on his face. Both you and Suguru exchanged frightened glances, the weight of the situation bearing down on you. Suguru cautiously questioned, "Why... are you here?"

Your hands shook as you gently laid Riko's lifeless form down, trying to gather your composure. The presence of Toji brought a chilling sense of dread.

Toji's tone was sinister as he answered, "Why?" His words were laced with a dark intent, but before you could understand, he knocked the gun against his head. "Oh, I gotcha," he muttered, revealing a twisted sense of amusement.

Then, the confession came like a hammer blow. "I killed Satoru Gojo," Toji admitted, a sinister smile on his face as he kept you and Suguru in his cold, unforgiving gaze.

Your voice quivered with fear and disbelief as you reacted to Toji's horrifying confession. "No... there's no way," you muttered, your voice trembling as you instinctively tried to draw closer to Suguru. The world seemed to blur around you as your thoughts raced to process the shocking revelation.

Pain suddenly surged through your body as you lurched forward, coughing up blood, and your eyes locked on the blade protruding from your chest. Toji's menacing presence overwhelmed you as he callously chuckled. "It's been a real pain in my ass since I found out you've been alive all these years," he sneered, quickly yanking the blade from your body. "The higher-ups weren't too happy about that" he snarled before forcefully kicking you to the ground.

Your wheezing breaths echoed in the chamber as you lay on the cold concrete. Toji's cruel words about your parents' murder had struck you to the core. If not for the blood that relentlessly flowed from you, you might have finally had the opportunity to find closure for your painful past.

However, as the minutes passed, panic slowly set in. Your body refused to heal, and a chilling realization washed over you: poison coursed through your veins. You felt your strength wane, and despite your desperate attempts, your body was far too exhausted to use your reverse curse technique.

Dark, weary (e/c) eyes met Suguru's horrified dark violet orbs. In those final moments, a bittersweet smile tugged at the corners of your scarlet-stained lips. Your eyes began to drift shut, and your head limply lulled to the side, memories of happier times at the beach enveloping you as you succumbed to the darkness.

————————————————

Hello my sweethearts! I reread #JJK236 just to make myself cry all over again. I put my heart into this chapter so I hope you all enjoy! Please let me know what you guys think!!

As always, much love xoxo

ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ

[04mxfutbol]

Reality (Christen Press x Reader)

A/N: Pretty sure you can hear my heart break at some point in the fic (:

You and Christen became friends through soccer in middle school. A time when you start beginning to explore the world a little more, you get curious about many things.

You remember those days perfectly, completely engraved in your memory, and if you were to close your eyes you could practically see those memories and replay them, which you do to this day.

Closing your eyes to remember it all.

Seventh grade, that’s when you both met.

“Are you Y/N?” Christen asks you on the first day of practice. You’re startled as you put your cleats on, you look up and see a girl with green eyes and curly hair.

“Yeah.” You say nodding your head, confused on how she knew you.

“Cool nice to finally meet you. I think we have History together?” Christen says with a smile. “You sit behind me.”

“Yeah. We do.” You say shyly. “And yes I sit right behind you.”

“You’re really shy.” Christen says and you look down. “Come on, me and you, let’s go warm up together.”

Christen ran towards the field, leaving her group of friends behind, turning back and looking at you, waiting for you.

“You coming or not?” Christen says and you run towards her. “You’re slow.”

You stay silent and look at her. She intimidated you. Her eyes beautiful but sometimes you felt like they could see right through you.

“I’ll nickname you turtle, for being slow.” Christen says and you let out a laugh. “And she laughs.”

Neither of you didn’t know why but you both just clicked, like if you two were the last two missing pieces of a puzzle. It felt like you both knew each other forever.

A beautiful friendship that grew over many months. A bond that grew, tying you both to each other.

A year into the friendship you started to feel things you didn’t completely understand. Walking to Christen you looked at how she was talking to her friends, hands in your pockets as you approached her.

“Can we talk?” You whisper to Christen and she nods.

“What’s up?”

“I think.. I like you.” You whisper.

“You like me?” Christen asks and you nod your head. “Y/N..”

“I know it’s weird and maybe I don’t really understand what I’m feeling but you’re different.”

“Y/N I don’t feel the same way.” Christen says, you’re actually not hurt but you’re confused.

What the hell were you feeling then?

“I don’t want this to ruin our friendship.” You say and Christen grabs your arm.

“It won’t I promise. It’s me and you forever. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Like nothing happened, you moved on. Like if you didn’t just maybe confess your love to her. Your mind was racing and you were definitely just a big confused.

Fortunately Christen was right, nothing changed in your friendship. It was still you two doing everything together. Absolutely everything.

“Wait up for me.” You shout as you run towards Christen and her neighbor. “Mind if I walk with you?”

“You live on the other side Y/N. You’ll be getting home late.” Christen says and you shrug it off.

“I wanna walk you home, you know make sure you get home safe.” You say and Christen sighs, looking at you worryingly. “Come on you know I always try to walk you home when I can of course.”

“Okay but let me carry your books, I want to look smart too you know.” Christen says snatching your Algebra books from you. “You’re not the only smart one here, I’m smart.”

“She’s not that smart.” Christen’s neighbor says and you laugh.

“Rude.” Christen says as you all begin to walk towards Christen’s street. “Come on turtle we both know you’re slow.”

“Turtle?” Christen’s neighbor asks.

“It’s my nickname for Y/N. Gave it to her when we met.” Christen says as you continue to walk. Christen turns to look at you while you’re looking around seeing the houses on the street. Her neighbor watching you both from the side, a small smirk on their face as she watched what was being unfolded.

“Huh. Okay.”

Nothing changed. It never did.

You held her hand when you were anxious, she made sure to give it three squeezes. It made you feel safe, secure. It was almost like she was home when being away from home.

“You’re okay. It’s me and you forever.” Christen says and you nod.

“Me and you forever.”

Years passed, high school came along, you both still being the best of friends. Closer than ever.

“Hey, you and me, carnival for the Fourth of July?” Christen asks as she sits next to you during lunch. “This weekend.”

You had no idea how Christen, being so popular became friends with you in seventh grade. It hit you sometimes that Christen was very popular in school, she always had been, you on the other hand well weren’t as much.

With so many friends Christen always made sure you were the most important to her. Or at least tried. She tried, but sometimes she failed but you wouldn’t tell her that because you knew that there was always someone else that would come before you even if Christen said otherwise.

“Sure yeah I just gotta ask but yeah I’ll go.” You say as you take a bite of what seemed to be some type of chicken.

“It’s tradition! We always go to the carnival on the Fourth of July together. It can’t be different this year.” Christen says and you laugh.

“I’m sure my parents will let me go just like they have been for the past couple of years.”

“Great! So how have classes been?” Christen asks.

“Pre calc has been kicking my ass. Like literally, I got hit in the ass the other day by a book because someone decided to get angry at the book where we learn our material from and I was walking by. The book went flying straight to my ass.”

“Oof. Rough. Is it that bad? Let me check.”

“Yes because I’m going to let you check my ass. No. So what about you, how are classes going?” You ask Christen as you play with your food.

“Foreign language, that’s the class that has been kicking my ass. I can barely get a C on any quizzes.”

“You need to study Chris, you’re trying to get into Stanford.” You say looking at Christen.

“So are you.”

“Yeah but it’s kind of your dream go get into Stanford.”

“Then help me study. Here are my notecards for this weeks quiz.” Christen says and your eyes widen as you set your fork down.

“Oh you mean now? Okay.”

“What up lovebirds.” You look up to see a friend of both of yours.

“For the last time we are not dating. I don’t understand why this keeps happening.” Christen says with a sigh. “We’re best friends, nothing more.”

“I’m not looking for trouble I’m just here to see if you guys are going to the carnival. Most important if my beloved Y/N would go with me.”

“We are are going, together.” Christen says. “As always. Me and Y/N.”

“And you ask why it keeps happening.”

It was true, people constantly thought you two were dating. But you were well aware Christen was straight you learned that years ago. Yet nothing changed. You two were still the best of friends.

The day came when you were both opening acceptance letters. Christen got into Stanford and while you did too, you decided to head to University of California, Berkeley. You wanted a little change.

But also wanting to get rid of the feelings that had resurfaced senior year. Meaning being away from Christen for some time.

College was different and absolutely terrifying for the first couple of weeks. Trying to find your classes and also waking up for practice. A huge adjustment. All of that without Christen, who usually helped you out was something you weren’t prepared for.

There you met Alex. You and Alex also began a beautiful friendship.

Christen found out about you and Alex, not that you two were dating because you weren’t, but just that Alex seemed to have been very important to you. And although she wasn’t going to tell you, she wasn’t very fond of whatever was happening.

Christen always had a problem with people being very touchy with you or getting close to you. It made you wonder why she would act the way she did. You just never understood her behavior sometimes.

Your friendship went from smooth to very rocky in a blink of an eye and you didn’t know what was going on but you held onto Alex, she helped you through it all.

One weekend you decided to go to a basketball game with Alex. What you didn’t know was everything was about to change.

You walked into the gymnasium where the players were warming up. You and Alex walked inside to find some of your other friends. Alex holding your hand as she learned that you were quick to get anxious. You finally found your friends sitting on the home team side of the gym.

“Ah you made it! Good to see you guys here.”

“Well we weren’t going to miss it.” Alex says.

You looked at the players running, resting your head on Alex’s shoulder. You hear a laugh and turn your head. There she was, Christen. With her boyfriend. Sitting behind you and Alex. Of all places, of all seats, sitting behind you.

“Hey don’t pay any attention to her. It’s me and you right here. Just us.” Alex says turning her head and looking at you, placing her hand on top of yours. “Me and you.”

“Me and you.” You whisper nodding your head.

“I will say she does not look happy to see me.” Alex whispers as she discreetly looks back. “Does she always look at people like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like she wants me dead.” Alex says and you laugh.

“No.”

“Then she does not look happy to see that I’m with you.”

“I’ll talk to her later.”

“I wouldn’t.”

You should’ve listened to Alex. You talked to Christen later that night and Christen didn’t like it one bit. To this day you still don’t understand why she was so upset, so upset she decided being friends wasn’t the best idea.

So while you remember the memories you had with Christen when closing your eyes, you had to open them.

You opened your eyes to reality.

- - - -

“Hey you okay?” Alex asks and you nod, stretching your arms and legs.

“Yeah. Better.” You say with a smile.

“Well come on it’s our second national team camp and it starts as soon as we get off this plane and to the hotel.” Alex say nudging you.

“You have too much energy.”

“I’m surprised you don’t, you just took a long nap. But seriously come on they’re probably waiting for us already. Come on we’re not rookies anymore we’re vets.”

“I can’t believe we even graduated college. Also I wouldn’t even consider us close to being vets, give it like four more years if we even make it.”

“I mean I can believe you did, I’m just still surprised to this day that I did.” Alex says making you laugh. “We’re getting new people this camp so I’d say we’re not new rookies.”

“Sure. It’s camp time!” You shout.

National team camp, meant seeing a face you haven’t really seeing much other than games. It meant seeing Christen. Christen got called up for the first time. You were happy for her, truly but also it was just your luck.

Walking into the hotel you were met with the rest of the team.

“I’m scared.” You whisper to Alex.

“It’s okay, I’m right here. It’s me and you Y/N. Me and you.” Alex whispers as you both walk in hand in hand.

You knew you couldn’t have her, you never could. It was something you had to accept. You just couldn’t though, it was too hard, it has just been too hard.

So you closed your eyes and breathed in then breathed out. You were safe with Alex. Safe with Alex. Home with Alex.

“Hey.”

You open your eyes again, only to see green eyes looking at you. In a blink of an eye all of the memories flashed right before your eyes. You froze.

You opened your eyes to reality.

You were looking straight at Christen for the first time in so long. You knew you couldn’t have Christen you knew you would never be able to have her love you like you loved her. You always knew that.

You closed your eyes trying to remember all the beautiful memories you had both shared together. But knowing she was right in front of you, you forced your eyes open and there it was right in front of you. Here it was now. The one thing you always wanted to ignore and never have to face, what you always wanted to avoid.

You were facing reality.