#is this the stress and sleep deprivation of finals talking?

[pickyourpoisonandevolve]

Hello, have you also been struck with an inane desire to kiss the CoD boys? Did the brainrot demon whisper in your ear “go fuck the masked man, the mustache man, and the Scottish man?” Well you’re in luck. My sleep deprivation vomited this out last night, I did not check for errors and I have NOT played MW. Sorry to all the Gaz fans out there, I genuinely forgot to include him. Sometimes you just gotta purge the fic poltergeists in your brain. I’m sorry. John up next when the demon returns.

All for One, One for All

Part 2 here

TW: NSFW, MDNI, fem reader. I’m bad at tags, sorry.

Down time with the 141 was always a grab bag. If a mission went well it was celebratory, others were solemn. Either way, the group was comfortable enough to have a … physical connection with each other. Hugs and words of comfort common after missions. Hands through hair as you all shared stresses together. But while everyone had a baseline comfortability, as the newbie, you lost out on some of the camaraderie, some of the closeness. It drove you fucking insane.

That’s why you were barely holding it together as Soap and you were close on the couch in the break room, legs tangled as you talked about everything and nothing. The recent mission, what they were doing on leave, cute new recruits. He was always the easiest to talk to, decompress with. Quick to anxieties with, as well as who you both had … predilections to. A master of weaseling his way into talking about your respective secret desires. Like how he had been spending spare time with Ghost on off days. How you couldn’t keep eye contact with your Captain.

Missions were different, there were tasks at hand and jobs to do. But with Price, his hands comforting, ready to protect seemed to linger between you and him, longer than others. Yet you couldn’t keep conversations longer than a few minutes when you debriefed in meetings. Too much perception, you felt like dissolving when his attention was on you too long. You kept the intensity of how much you wanted your Captain to yourself though. You wonder how Soap did it with your Lieutenant. You picked at your hangnails, seemed like you could even smell them nearby, cigarette and cigar smoke lingering in your olfactory memory.

A longing, you told Soap, with your head in your hands, avoiding the embarrassment of eye contact. Stuttering through it, you described the longing, the need for belonging. “You all made it look so easy, it WAS so easy,” You lament. You got here too late, missed the boat on inclusion in the 141. No more room at the inn. They meant everything to you, they were your whole world. And the sneaking ache that you could die tomorrow and they’d move on clawed at your ribcage endlessly. You just… wanted to feel like you meant something to to them, to someone. Wanted someone to steal all the silence in your mind and fill it with warmth. With touch. With lov—

“To someone? Or to him?” You heard, through the static in your ears. The tears you’ve been fighting finally make an appearance.

“Bonnie, hey, darl’,” Soap whispered to you, bringing his lips to your forehead, fingers through your temples. Shh, shh, shh, everything was okay and that the team was here for you. He was here for you. Quieting your mind, his hands ran through your hair and lingered to your neck. You closed your eyes, trying not to feel overwhelmed. “I should have kept my mouth shut you don’t have to pity me.” You said, gently trying to push Soap back.

“Who the fuck said anything about pity.” A different, deeper voice in your ear this time. Panic floods your body as you feel a second pair of hands slide around your shoulders. “No, no, no Ghost, please don’t I’m sorry I shouldn’t—,” you stammer out, fight and flight winning simultaneously as you push immovable bodies and try to pull yourself away. Why you thought that was possible with these two men was beyond you.

Vice grips pull you back down, holding you close to both men’s chests. “Breathe, sergeant.” Delivered as a command. That part of your brain still seemed to function as you took deep breaths, not noticing how Ghost positioned himself on the couch. Leaning back at an angle, he pulled you in his lap, back against his chest and arms around your waist. Feeling his breath against the nape of your neck, steadying, matching his breathing. The smell of cigarettes, pine and sweat fill your senses. Soap slotted himself between both of your legs, into your lap, eyes keeping your focus. Knowing looking at Ghost would throw you completely askew. Ever the team, those two, you thought briefly.

Minutes went by in silence as your breathing slowed, heartbeat returned to normal. Ghost gave you one of his hands to fuss with as you calmed, testing the waters, getting used to him. His other hand carded through Soaps hair, lying in your lap. His nose nuzzled your neck as he broke the silence. “I’m, we’re, sorry for making you feel like the odd man out, sweetheart. Should have done a better job as your lieutenant to make you feel a part of the team.” He took the hand lying in yours and brought it to your stomach, bringing you closer into his chest, rubbing lazy circles. “This is… a lot to some. Who we are as a team. As much as we wanted to bring you in, we didn’t want to scare you away neither.”

“But for what it’s worth, ever since you got here,” Ghost growls, pinky grabbing the edge of your shirt, pulling upwards. “You’ve been ours.”

Everything seemed to move at once. Ghosts hands now on your body properly, exploring your curves and pulling you into him deeper. Soap chuckled lightly, his hands now caressing your hips and breathing into your waistline, peering up at you with big beautiful eyes. “Ours in the royal sense, LT. She’s been called f—“ his words cut off as a rough hand at the back of his head pressed him into your pussy. “Hmm, he’s a lot cuter when he’s down there, huh?” Ghost chuckles into your shoulder. Your heart feels like it’s in your throat, your hands come up and try to meet his, unsure of if you’re trying to push him away or pull him closer. His arms come around and lock yours in place as Soap is released and fingers start to play with the button on your pants. “Let us make up for some lost time, sweetheart,” he growls into your shoulder.

Sheer panic, or disassociation, you’re not sure what gets you through the next moment. But either way it feels like an eternity, watching Soap pull down your pants and panties, feeling Ghost caress the valley between your tits, ambiently trying to steady your heart. Mumbling both to you and himself, he repositions you ever so slightly in his lap, bringing your ass tighter into his hips and spreading your thighs across his, giving Soap better access. “Have no fucking idea how bad we’ve needed you, bird. Been dreaming about your fucking body, how you smell, what you taste like.” You feel his hardness start, pushing up against your ass. Your deep breaths start turning into soft moans, and both men groan into you. Soap kisses you gently on your thighs, leading a trail to your core, nipping you along the way. You feel like glass, any sudden movement and you’ll shatter into Ghosts arms, heart too raw, wants too real. Ghost feels your tension and wraps one arm around your waist as the other brings your shirt above your tits, exposing them to the cold room. His free hand teasing a nipple as he whispered “Stay with me, baby.”

A strangled sound left your throat as you felt Soap’s tongue separate your lips and meet your clit. “Johnny, please, oh God.” Feeling his tongue work you open, you can only focus on your breathing so you don’t float away. Ghost adjusts something behind you as you feel two fingers slide in gently. Broken moans and pleas leave your mouth as you feel lips against your neck, kissing, biting. “Tell me how he feels bird.” Ghost murmurs. Fingers moving faster, faster as Soap attacks your clit. You chance a look down as you meet his eyes, his mouth breaking out into the biggest smile as he lifts his face briefly. A man this pretty should be illegal, you think. “Tell me, bonnie. Tell me what you want.” A sound you’d be downright ashamed of leaves your mouth, clenching around his fingers. “Fuck Soap, I want you, I want—“ His fingers start working your g-spot faster as he teases, “Use your words, bon. I wanna hear you say it.”

“I wanna, I wanna cum Johnny, please” you say in barely a whisper as he coaxes it out of you. All you feel is the cord in your stomach break as every muscle in your body tenses. Soap laughing into your clit, Ghost licking and moaning in your ear, that you belong to us, all of us. A distant part of you wonders why things sound so wet as you look down to Soaps eyes, crinkled as he makes you watch yourself squirt into his mouth.

“Oh my god, oh my god,” you chant as Soap sucks your clit, bringing you down. Everything feels wet, you can feel it at your knees. This couch is gonna have to be burned. Soap gives one last suck to your clit, coming off with a pop. Ghosts breath comes out in short bursts as you feel him grind hard into your ass, grunting in your ear. Soap comes up and grabs you tenderly by your face, kissing you gently, deeply, making you taste. Bringing his forehead to yours, he looks at you, so tender it makes your heart stop. “Told ya we’re here. Cannae do it without ya, sweet.”

Hands gently lay you down on the couch as you remember what your limbs are supposed to feel like. A kiss from each on your forehead as Ghost says “You did so good, sweetheart. I’m gonna take care of our boy here, you stay put, yeah?” Your breathing starts to return to normal, letting feelings flood back slowly. “Oh, okay.” You whisper out, taking a deep breath and sitting up slightly. The big feelings start to creep back in, but a little less heavy. Tears start to flow, not from sadness but something else. You sniff away some of the emotions. “Are we, are we okay, is, oh my god what is Price, what—“ Soap is quick to take a knee next to you, kissing your tears away and cooing shhhh’s in your ear. You’ve been so distracted by this attention that you finally notice the smell in the room, stronger than earlier. Cloves, a sweetness, cigar smoke.

Your head snaps back to the chair across from you all, and your breath dies in your throat. Blue eyes locked into yours, like he’s never looked at anything else. He crushes the last of his cigar into the ashtray beside him and leans forward, hands gripping his knees tightly. “You broken, sweetheart?”

[tytonnidaie]

you know what fuck all of you for making fun of the babdook (2014) when the kid was acting his heart out!!!!! that movie is outrageously good and when i rewatched it recently i was even more impressed than when i first watched it. AND the ost fucks btw. if u even care

[takamimami]

The Supernova Captains | how they 'tell' you that they missed you.

Pairing: Kidd, Law, and Luffy x fem!reader (use of y/n)

little blurbs about how the captains tell you that they missed you when they were gone, even if they don't use those words :3

CW: SMUT, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, fingering, pretty tame/nothing crazy

🔞NSFW; MINORS/AGELESS BLOGS KEEP IT MOVING🔞

👒

Whenever Luffy is away from you for an extended period of time, you have come to expect that the days immediately following your reunion will be spent with him hanging on you, literally. Every second he can he is either leaning on you while hugging you around your shoulders, sometimes putting more weight on you than he realizes, or he is napping with his head tucked in your lap as you gently play with his hair. He always returns from his missions exhausted, often taking extended naps that have you on the verge of being concerned, even checking that he is still breathing every once in a while. 

If he wakes up and he's not in your lap, he’ll immediately begin to look for you, craving your presence as if you two had spent a lifetime apart. He’d finally end up finding you in the kitchen, helping Sanji prepare some food for him since his routine is usually “eat, sleep, and repeat” when he is recovering from a mission. Once he finds you he’d wrap his arms around you and nuzzle his face into your back, breathing in your scent and letting out a satisfying sigh.

“Don’t know what smells better, you or the food,” he’d mutter playfully as he hung onto you like a koala, making it hard for you to stand up straight, but laughing at his compliment none the less. After his meal he would drag you with him back to his quarters, lazily plopping down on the bed with you nestled in his arms. He’d pepper gentle kisses over your face and neck as he slowly moved down your body, his kisses growing sloppier as he moved lower and lower.

“Sanji’s food is good, but this is the meal I was really missing,” he’d chuckle softly as he pulled down your shorts and moved your underwear to the side, wasting no time before gliding his tongue through your folds and circling it around your clit. Your body would squirm at the sudden sensation, and he’d throw an arm around your hip to hold you in place as he guided his tongue deeper, his nose tickling your clit as he massages your walls with his tongue.

He’d hum in satisfaction as your pussy spasmed for him, moving his mouth up to suck and lick at your clit as you push his face away, trying to catch your breath.

“‘M still hungry, Y/N,” he’d drawl, smirking as he brushes away your hands and connects his lips to your clit again as you gripped the sheets tightly, never one to deprive him of his favorite meal.

🐯

Since it always seems like he is off doing side quests, Law makes it very well known that he missed you, especially if the mission was any bit stressful (aka the straw hats were involved).

When he finally reunites with his crew, you are always the first one he seeks out, often finding you hidden away in his lab reading or helping Bepo with one-off tasks. When he finds you he’ll usually pull you in for a tight hug, his lanky arms wrapping tightly around your middle as he rests his cheek on the top of your hair. This usually lasts for some time, the crew knowing to leave you two be. You can practically feel Law’s tension in his shoulders melting away with each deep inhale of your scent, his eyes shut as he relishes being in your vicinity once more. 

Once he’s held you long enough he’ll lift his head and kiss your forehead, and this usually follows with you asking him how his mission went. If he tells you, it means it wasn’t as big of a headache as he expected, and if he ignores your question and instead asks how you were while he was away, you know that is his way of telling you he doesn’t want to talk about it. He’d much rather hear you talk about yourself than re-live the hellish events of trying to get Luffy to stick to a plan.

But, the way Law really shows you how much he missed you is when he’s finally able to get you alone. He’ll take his time gently undressing you, appreciating every curve of your body as he runs his soft hands over them, missing the way your skin feels beneath his fingers. He’d revel in the way his fingers would leave trails of goosebumps everywhere they went, letting out a small his when he finally swiped a finger through your drenched folds.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he’d whisper, dropping his head down to your breast he was kneading in his other hand, taking your nipple between his teeth teasingly. He’d keep his eyes on you the entire time, unable to look away as he watched your face contort in pleasure. When he slips the first finger inside you he’d feel his cock twitch in his pants, but it's the sound that leaves your mouth as he curls a second finger into your velvet walls that would have him nearly coming in his pants.

But he would compose himself, for now, working his magic fingers inside you as your moans filled the room, a soothing song to the chaos inside his head. He’d have you like this for hours, bringing you to the edge over and over again just so he could hear the way your voice caught in your throat when you cried out his name and feel how your body trembled from the over-stimulation. 

“Just one more,” he’d plead breathlessly into your ear as you clamped around his fingers, regardless of your half-hearted attempts at protesting, “Gotta make up for lost time.”

🌷

Kidd would never admit how much he misses you when he’s away, simply for the sheer fact that he is a stubborn man and would rather die than hear his crew tease him about yet another thing when it comes to you. He grows incredibly restless on the return trip to the Victoria Punk, and either Heat, Wire, or Killer are sure to point out that you are the reason Kidd is in such a rush to return home.

So much so, that when he returns from a mission away he makes it a point not to seek you out and instead disappears into his workshop, knowing that is going to be the first place you come looking for him once you learn of his arrival.

Knowing how headstrong your lover is, you head below deck as soon as you notice Killer and Wire making their way to their quarters, almost positive that is where you will find Kidd.

You’d knock on the door and hear a grunt from inside before swinging open the door, Kidd’s eyes flicking over to you briefly before he turns back to whatever gadget he’d decided to work on.

Once you reach where he is seated you’d massage his shoulders or run your fingers through his hair, trying to gauge what mood he had returned home in. If he was in a good mood he’d stay quiet, letting you continue your ministrations until you inevitably broke the silence and asked about the mission. However most of the time, he’d grumble and flinch away from your touch, “What is it? Can’t ya see I’m busy?”

Growing accustomed to this facade, you’d sit on the bench near his workstation while he worked, grabbing a book from the shelf to occupy yourself or simply just watch him work until he dropped the act. 

When he can no longer take the distance anymore he’ll reach over with his metal arm and pull you into his lap roughly, a cheeky smirk on his face as he observes the excitement in your eyes.

“You miss me that much, Y/N?” he’d growl in your ear, pulling you closer to his chest when he felt your heart rate quicken. “Couldn’t wait to come in here and distract me, hm?”

His teasing sends a chill down your spine, and you feel the tent in his pants grow as you rock your hips into him teasingly. You’d nod your head as you looked up at him, biting down on your lip as he picked you up and carried you down the hall to his quarters. 

He’d hurriedly kick off his boots and pull off his pants after dropping you on the bed, nearly stumbling over as he made his way back to the bed. Your giggle at his clumsiness would make him growl lowly, and you’d teasingly laugh even louder as he approached the bed.

“Maybe you missed me a little bit too, hm, Captain?”

“Not a fucking chance,” he’d snarl as he flips you over, pulling your hips up into the air and bullying his fat cock inside of you without warning. He’d press your head into the pillow as your moans grew louder, trying to drown out the sounds of you so he wouldn’t come prematurely. He’s nearly always unsuccessful, however, his cock twitching as he pulls out of you and hot cum leaks from his cock and your cunt.

It’s then you press your luck by flipping onto your back and smirking up at him, propping your self up on your elbows as you lick your lips. “Need a minute?”

Your teasing has him lunging forward and kissing you roughly, biting your bottom lip as he pushes his semi-hard cock back inside you, a grunted “fuck you,” leaving his lips as he begins rocking his hips back into you again.

my last supernova captains post got so much love, tysm :') i've been recovering from a migraine and pms-ing so sorry if there are typos or mistakes anywhere, I kinda posted this without proof reading lol :3 lemme know what you think, and if you liked it, I would love it if you liked and reblogged to spread the love <3 ✨come say hai :3✨

Do not copy, repost or translate.

[satorusugurugurl]

heya! I have a req - imagine Gojo tears up when yn kisses his forehead. he’s never felt so vulnerable 🫠

take care :)

Rest

Summary: After a long day of being Gojo Satoru— the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, your boyfriend gets to come home to your loving embrace.

Characters: Gojo Satoru x AFAB!Reader

Warnings: sweet flufffy goodness, mentions of sleep deprivation, stress, overworking, but overall it’s really sweet!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: Nonnie thank you for your request! I had so much fun writing this, Gojo deserves so much better! 💚💚💚

It was late, two thirty in the morning, to be exact, when the door to the bedroom finally creaked open. You stirred, wincing at the stiffness in your neck as you sat up, the book you read lying against your chest. But your neck didn't matter, not when Satoru was wincing as he slipped his shirt off and placed it in the hamper. His blindfold hand was loosely wrapped around his neck, giving you a perfect view of his dark circles.

“Toru?” You hesitantly asked, drawing his attention towards the bed.

Though you could see the exhaustion in his eyes, he smiled a little on the side but still smiled for you. “Hey, Sweetpea, I didn't wake you, did I?” He walked towards the edge of the bed, kissing your cheek.

“No, I had a stiff neck, so that woke me up.”

Cerulean eyes darted towards the book that was still resting on your chest. “I told you you didn’t have to wait up for me. Just because I had to work late doesn’t mean you have to deprive yourself of sleep.” Even when he was talking, you could hear the exhaustion in his voice.

Being the strongest sorcerer of the modern age was a curse in itself. Satoru was constantly on the move. Whether yanked away for missions or meetings with the higher-ups, he rarely had a break. Time for himself was a rarity. You hated seeing him so drained. Even if you confronted him about it, he would deny it. Putting on some arrogant, cocky attitude that he was the strongest and handling some extra meetings or taking on a few more missions wasn’t going to hurt him.

Your boyfriend could put on that kind of act for himself, his students, or even the higher-ups themselves. You knew he was tired, though. He could deny your accusations all he wanted. You, however, were fortunate enough to know him better than he knew himself. That facade was see-through when it came to you looking at him.

You wanted to tell him it was okay to be tired and set some time aside for himself. Deep down, you knew if you were to bring that up, Gojo would try to ensure you that everything was peachy. So, given the circumstances, you did the one thing you were able to do.

You would support him, be there for him when he needed to vent, and help him out as much as you could or as much as he would allow you to do.

“I was just reading; my book got really good. I just dozed off.”

“Mmm, you should put the book down and get some sleep.” Long ivory fingers caressed your cheek. “I don’t want you having a crooked neck because you were up reading your smut.”

“Leave my books out of this~” Satoru snickered, rolling his eyes as he pulled back, unbuckling his belt. “Go take a shower, then get your ass in bed.”

Satoru gave you a dorky salute as he headed into the bathroom, removing the rest of his clothing as he walked. You knew he was exhausted from the shower he took. Enough to wash the white tufts of hair and wash his body thoroughly. When he finished his shower, his mind was fuzzy with sleep deprivation. Finishing getting ready for bed was a blur, but he found himself climbing the sheets next to you, his arms wrapping around your waist as he rested his head against your breasts.

Your warmth and the smell of you relaxed every muscle in his body as he rested his body weight against you. Satoru was so tired. He needed to think about going on vacation sometime soon. Getting away from the bustling life he was living sounded like a dream. One where you would join him, and the two of you would stay in bed, talking, watching movies, and enjoying each other‘s company for hours.

Thoughts of that had him snuggling his face further into your soft breasts. You could see the dark circles under his eyes from where you were propped up. Your poor boyfriend was being tugged in every way possible, which would take a toll on anybody. Just because he was the strongest didn’t mean everyone had a right to take advantage of him and use him as a weapon.

Gojo Satoru was human, and he deserved some praise and recognition. Normally, he provided that recognition for himself, occasionally giving himself a literal pat on the back. But it was nice to hear it from someone else, too. He deserved the world—nothing but happiness.

Sensing your body's tension, Satoru turned his head to look up at you. As he did, his soft white bangs moved with each turn of his head. You reached out, brushing some strands away, only stopping to push them back as if he were wearing his blindfold. His eyes glanced to where your hand was pushing up his hair, cerulean eyes almost crossing to get a glimpse.

No words needed to be said. You gave him the faintest smile before pressing your lips against his forehead. As your lips pulled away his skin, you could feel the tension in his body; fearing you may have crossed the line, you quickly pulled back, looking down at your chest with tears staining the thin fabric of your top.

“Toru?” Your voice was soft as if your words themselves would shatter him.

“W-What was that?”

“A forehead. a kiss, a little token of my appreciation for all your hard work.” You weren’t sure what to expect—maybe a thank you or a smile in return. What you met with instead was tears in his eyes. Tears that made the blue of his Iris stand out even more.”Toru! Baby, what’s the matter?”

“I just—that was different.”

Growing up as the strongest and as an only child had been rough. It didn’t matter that he was filthy rich. The staff at the house was constantly on him. His parents rarely came to see him or talk to him. Gojo was alone most of the time, and he found many of his favorite memories from that time when he snuck out of the estate and went exploring Tokyo, being held like this and having kisses planted against his forehead with something he had never experienced with anyone, even his mother.

And he liked it. Scratch that he loved it. Being able to rest in your arms to have you petting his head, and playing with his hair always had him relaxing. This was how he liked to spend his rare moments at home with you. To be in your arms, to have your fingers running through his soft hair, and to have your lips pressing against his forehead made everything he did worth it. He put so much time and effort into helping the next generation of sorcerers, trying to make this world a place he wanted to live in. The hours of the hard work he put in was worth it.

At the end of the day, he got to come home to you.

You were one of the only people who treated him like a human being rather than some tool to be used. So, after a long day of being pulled around, told what to do, and scolded, this was precisely what he needed. Gojo’s mind, body, and soul knew that, and they all worked against him and caused tears to well up in his eyes to make him feel vulnerable. Thiswas a feeling he somewhat liked as long as it was with you.

“Oh, I’m sorry, baby. I hope I didn’t insult you or make you uncomfortable.”

“No, I like it. I like it a lot, Sweetheart.” He slowly shut his eyes, his full white eyelashes resting against his cheek as he exhaled through his nose. “Could you do it again?”

Hearing him a king for you to kiss his forehead again had your heart swelling with a certain pride as you hummed happily, pressing your lips against his forehead while your nails gently scratched at his scalp. “Thank you for all of your hard work, Toru.” Your voice was angelic, easing Satoru further into the mattress as his body relaxed more, his mind slowly turning off. “Thank you for everything you do.” He hummed softly in response as he slowly began drifting to sleep, tears welling at the corners of his eyes before slowly streaming down his cheek.

Seeing the tears slowly sliding down his slightly flushed cheek had you abandoning one of your hands on the top of his head, your thumb quickly brushing the stray away. Once you were sure that the tears would stop flowing, your hands slowly drifted back up to the top of his head, continuing to scratch lazily at it as you shut your eyes, yawning, as Satoru hugged you tight, wrapping his arms around you not letting you out of his grasp. It was such a comforting and warm hug that left you feeling safe even when he fell asleep. Your nerves melted like snow on a spring day.

“I love you so much,” Satoru mumbled against your chest. Any other thoughts failed to reach his mouth; he began to breathe much deeper, falling into REM sleep.

But he didn’t have to say anything else. You simply priced one last very long kiss against the center of his forehead. When you finally managed to pull away, you found yourself cradling his head to your chest, allowing him to listen to your heartbeat because he fell asleep.

“I love you too, Toru.”

Yeah, all of his hard work was definitely worth coming home to this.

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree

[existentialgaybirdnerd]

Sleep-Deprived Sarcasm

Ghost is an asshole.

Everyone knows this, everyone thinks this.

Ghost is an asshole in ways that many don't really stop to appreciate. Because he may be an asshole, but he's not mean in a way that actually hurts anyone.

He'll casually call someone a dumbass if they did something stupid. He'll find solace in smacking a particularly close teammate over the head after a dumb stunt (Soap) or berating them until their ears are ringing for saying something stupid in front of a superior officer or someone interrogating them (Gaz).

He's an asshole, but he's loving about it in ways those who aren't close to him don't see.

Can't see.

It's a privilege to be able to hear when Ghost is sarcastic. People will hear stories around the base of him being incredibly sarcastic to Soap or Captain Price.

Soap brags about being able to get him to ask the invisible audience what he's won when Soap himself says something particularly dumb in front of him.

Price once told a funny story that no one actually believes where Ghost, high on the exhaustion of a mission gone sour and 4 days of minimal sleep, asks where he should house the high horse a particularly nasty unnamed superior rode in on during a debrief.

Everyone knows Ghost is an asshole. No one except the 141 sees when that asshole tendency turns soft and pointed and trusting. No one but them knows how deeply gratifying it is to see him dropping his guard and actually saying something disrespectful in front of them, showing a little bit of his Simon Riley attitude and personality rather than the forced blankness that "Ghost" is supposed to personify.

The first time Gaz saw him drop his guard, he cried.

According to Soap anyway.

It had been a time when everyone was getting eyed for their actions, after a stressful but successful mission, by their superiors.

Ghost had obviously had enough of the people breathing down their necks and sending them on pointless missions to "see if [taskforce 141] are good enough to keep on." The entire taskforce was put into question and none of them had gotten a good night's sleep in about a week between all of the debriefs, training, missions, and pointless lectures about being "the face of the military" (bullshit if you ask any one of them, especially the one in the mask) and it was getting on their nerves.

Ghost wasn't one to show his anger much when he was meant to be Ghost unless he deemed that it benefitted them, made the enemies or even allies nervous, and made them listen.

So seeing him overly sarcastic and willing to be directly disrespectful? It's a rite of passage.

It happened in the kitchen at 0300.

Gaz and Soap are shooting the shit getting some coffee to wind down and talking about how horrible the breath of their "borrowed" commander is when Ghost walks in wearing civvies and his usual hard skull balaclava.

"You look tired, Ghost" Gaz decides to comment, seeing the slouch in the taller man's shoulders that he wouldn't normally be able to see.

In the heaviest "no shit" voice he seems to be able to muster, Ghost looks him dead in the eye, holds a pretend microphone to Soap and says "He got the right answer, give the man a prize! What did he win Johnny Boy?"

Between one blink and the next, Soap making a choking noise like a dying cat and proceeding to double over forwards to laugh into his knees, and Gaz staring at Ghost like he had lost his mind, Ghost grabs a mug and starts making tea with more sugar than necessary.

When he walks out, taking the tea with him and cursing the universe for "dumbass shithead commanders," Gaz has to sit down as Soap tries to catch his breath, finally able to control himself now that Ghost isn't there looking like a puppy just woken up from a particularly hard nap despite none of them having gotten sleep in the past 24 hours.

It started happening more frequently from there.

Gaz would say something obvious on particularly hard days, days where they were all exhausted and wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep but couldn't because of various dealings with higher-ups or responsibilities, and Ghost would hand either Soap or Price a microphone and be sarcastic.

He tries saying the dumbest things he can to start longer speeches, something he was told to do by Soap after finding out that the more sarcastic he gets, the more he rants about the topic. They eventually start timing the rants when he gets into it.

The winner so far is a minute and a half to Soap for getting him to rant about fall and leaves. They don't remember how that started.

In one memorable instance, Price says something stupid. Ghost, being half asleep at the table while they all wait for some superiors to get there for a meeting, hands Gaz the microphone and sasses Price so hard Soap is choking on breath until the first superior enters 10 minutes later.

[yourheart-inmyhands]

Hey! I was wondering if you could do Headcannons for how the Harbingers (Separately) would handle a reader who gets overwhelmed after being around crowds all day and wants physical contact to recharge. Oddly specific but if you feel comfy writing thus I'd love to see it!

this one was interesting to think about so I did only two harbingers for now but you're free to swing back around and request others as well :D i tried to pick two on opposite ends of the scale to show the difference between them, i hope you enjoy!

Warning: This post contains yandere-themes, including obsessive behavior, relationship neglect, Dottore being an ass, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Pantalone: 

Your best bet is Pantalone, as he’s the most understanding and affectionate amongst the Harbingers. This isn’t to say he’s an absolute doll, but that he’d be the most accommodating. He understands that not everyone is made for crowds and parties and the large events he typically attends, which is why he always extends the offer for you to simply sit them out. 

That’s not to say he doesn’t want you to accompany him, because there’s no one he’d prefer by his side, but he knows that you don’t do well amongst others. If you do choose to go though, he is more than happy to oblige in your need for comfort. Whether there is a ride back or merely a walk back to your shared quarters, you can expect him to be touching you in some way. 

It could be a hand holding yours as you walk down the halls back to your bedroom, it could be holding you close to his side on the carriage ride back to the palace, it might even extend to him pulling you into a secluded corner and smothering your face in feather light kisses before re-entering the party crowd.

Regardless, Pantalone is the easiest and best to ask for comfort from, his job is one of the more stressful ones amongst the other Harbingers and he’s always more than happy to allow himself some relaxation time with you. 

Dottore:

While Pantalone is the best, Dottore is on the opposite end of the spectrum. This man is too busy chatting up elites for more funding to really pay any mind to your growing unrest. If you try to talk about it beforehand he’ll simply insist you stay, rather than be a burden to him. Should you refuse to back down and go regardless, he’ll brush off any requests you make of him for affection or to leave.

If the event is taking place in the Palace, he’ll simply tell you to wait outside in the hallway and send one of his segments to collect you. If it’s away from the Palace, he’ll tell you to either suck it up or go sit in the carriage and wait for him there.

When the event inevitably ends and he is no longer preoccupied with kissing the ass of those around him, you can still expect to be largely ignored. This man is a genius scientist who is always in the middle of a huge breakthrough! Do you really expect him to drop everything to cuddle up to you because you’re too soft? If you can’t wait for him to become so sleep-deprived that he finally gives in and crawls into bed, which can take days unfortunately, then you’ll just have to make do with being comforted by one of his segments.

It’s happened enough that his segments have come to know you personally. And while they are technically still Dottore, they’re merely fragments of him that have grown into their own partial beings. The comfort they provide doesn’t extend much beyond the physical aspect, but there’s a small bit of comfort in knowing that they’re here for you. That someone is willing to give up their time to be by your side.

[bitter-me]

Hello!! I hope your doing well! I was reading some of your works then I had some ideas that were just ✨️✨️what if reader was like Layla from Genshin? I think it'll go well with Dr.Ratio, wether reader is an IPC or one of his students is all up to you!

Feel free to ignore this if you don't want to do it! Take care and stay safe!! ^^

Sweet Dreams

Dr. Veritas Ratio | M. Reader as Layla [Genshin Impact]

----------

"Scorching hot days and freezing cold nights... I—I don't think I'm gonna make it..."

----------

Work.

Work, and work.

Work, and work, and work.

Work, and work, and work, and work.

That's all he does.. it's tiring... he couldn't help but sometimes look at the other IPC's employees with envy. His colleagues seems to have a less tiring job than him. Why can't he be as carefree as them? Without feeling so sleep deprive? Don't get him wrong, he enjoys his work, but sometimes it just gets... tiring..

He slumped on his desk, feeling drained by the amount of work there is and the paperwork that's been placed on his desk.

"I bet someone who's good enough to get a job like him never has to worry about whether their projects will get approved or be successful. Wait... Oh shoot, if he's a Doctor, he probably doesn't have to do any projects in the first place. So lucky..." The man sighs as he thought of the other, he looks so carefree, so relax, and--SMACK! "AH!" His hands shot up to the back of his head, the sudden pain brought him back to reality. "Stop daydreaming [Name]."

Fixing his position, he sits properly on his seat as he look at the direction of the voice and saw none other than Dr. Veritas Ratio himself, the man he was thinking about. "But do you really have to hit my head with your book..?"

"How could I get it through your thick skull if I don't?"

The other groans in response knowing there's no way to talk his way out of this. Not with Dr. Veritas Ratio.

----------

Penacony.. the land of dreams..

Yeah, he would fit right in.

The dreamscape is just so.. beautiful.. it's nothing like the real world. Unlike in the real world, [Name] doesn't need to worry about his projects so much. That amount of stress is horrible for one's mind.

If he could, he'll stay there.

To sleep for as long as he wants, to experience new things in a.. "different way..", to be able to live as free as a bird.

But alas...

Some dreams just don't come true and he was brought back to reality by his colleagues. Their mission. Their objective for accepting Penacony's invite.

"Wake up, [Name]."

"Hmm.."

"Honestly...."

Opening his eyes, he was met by the Doctor himself. "Oh so you're finally awake, I've been trying to wake you up for almost half a system hour."

"Hmm.. ten minutes.."

"NO!"

He groans, grudgingly sits up from his lying position, how he wishes he could stay asleep.. this is Penacony after all.. so why can't he sleep? Of course work has to be the one being prioritized... "Please Ratio.." "No."

With a defeated sigh [Name] leans forward and gives the other a peck on the lips. "Ten minutes." and with that, he falls back onto the bed and went back to sleep. Leaving a flustered Doctor.

[alfredosauce50]

Parent headcanons: Alfred, Allen, Matt, & Mathias

When it comes to the trials of adulthood, they have their own ways of getting on top. But parenting is what really puts them to the test. Starting a family and being one of the sole carers for another person will shine a light on the best and worst parts of them.

The big news

Alfred

He has the most normal reaction out of the four. Panic, acceptance, then excitement, he’s finally moving onto the final stages of adulthood and achieving his lifelong dream. Being a suburban dad and getting that white picket fence. It’s not just about liking kids, Alfred is rather traditional when it comes to his values; he has always romanticized the American dream. He already has a good job, all he needs is to make it happen.

“Fuuuuuck,” He whispers, eyes wide as he rakes his hands through his hair. He stands there for a few minutes, staring into space as you watch him tensely for his reaction. “We’re ready to be parents, right?”

Allen

He will freak out. Planned or unplanned, he’s not mentally prepared to be a father. He doesn’t think he’s good enough, but knows deep down he has to be. That’s what really scares him. If he needs to improve himself, it’s now or never. So after a week of panicking and catastrophizing, he’s ready to give himself a second chance — even if it’s for someone else. But his selflessness is key to his perseverance, and eventual success.

“I fucked up,” He squeezes you like a lifeline. It was the only conclusion he could come to after hours of talking about it, the only thing he could ever truly understand. “I fucked up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Mathias

He’ll be over the moon. He’s gonna be even more excited than you, but that’s kinda given when he doesn’t have to carry the baby and deliver it. Point is, Mathias is very family-oriented, so don’t expect anything less. He’s the most self-affirmed a person can be too, so he’s always ready to move onto the next stage in life. His nurturing character and openness to change will help you immensely in periods of stress and uncertainty.

“I’m so happy that I could cry,” He whispers with his head on your tummy. He’s half-awake after burning out from his own excitement, but his spirit is still in the right place. “We’re finally gonna have a family.”

Matt

Letting you into his life was already a miracle, and now he’s gonna be a dad? This is a human being that he’ll have to be responsible for, not something he can simply tap out of and run away from. Matt is driven by his interests, solitude, and above all else, his freedom. A baby would take away all of those things, and he’s so troubled by it that he disappears for a few weeks. He comes home to a slap, but it’s well-deserved.

“Are you gonna keep hitting me, or are you gonna let me go to my shed?” He sighs, closing his eyes as you keep wailing on him. And he just takes it, absorbing every strike that was your burning love for him.

“Why, so you can keep—” You shove him harshly so that he actually stumbles back. “—hiding from me?”

“No, I’m gonna build a crib and make some toys.”

Parenting style

Alfred

He’s everything you’d expect from a new parent. Freaking out over the little things, screaming when they do something new, burning out after weeks of sleep deprivation, etc. He isn’t perfect, and you’re gonna have to work with him like any other partner, but before you know it, the house is filled with photo frames. He’s your best friend, and sometimes before your partner, so he has a hard time giving and taking. But it’s also why you two will stick together through thick and thin.

Alfred eventually evolves into the archetype of fathers. He takes the backseat and tells his kids, ‘I don’t know, go ask your mother,’ or even gets in trouble for doing stupid things like leaving the toilet seat up. When you just finished yelling at the kids, he comes to them later and goes, ‘someone’s in a bad mood today,’ when he’s just glad it wasn’t him. But when it’s something really serious, he flips like a switch and takes the lead. When that happens, there’s no talking him down.

“Alright gang, ready to get the show on the road?” Alfred rubs his hands together excitedly before he starts the car. “When we get there, I want everyone to be on their best behavior. I’m already on thin ice.”

He has high expectations for his kids. Ever since they popped out, he’s been giving them the best of the best, like nice clothes, family trips, sports leagues, and dance. He also wants them to go to a prestigious university in the future and to do all the things he might have missed out on. Cue the ‘that’s your dream, not mine, dad!’ Alfred can be hard on his children when it comes to success, so you need to remind him they’ve got minds of their own and are not carbon copies of him.

He says he prefers sons until he gets a daughter. Alfred is an absolute sweetheart to his girls, and is way more lenient with them than his boys. He doesn’t mean to play favorites, but it’s just how he’s wired. However, it also means being quite strict and protective when they get to that age. No drinking and no sleepovers with boys present. Men are all animals according to him. But dad, aren’t you a man? Exactly! He’s the pioneer of ‘anything you do to my daughter, I do to you.’

Allen

He tried his absolute best to prepare, but it starts off a disaster. What can go wrong will go wrong. The baby gets sick, you’re away on urgent family business, so he needs to do it all without you. Allen stays in hospital with the baby overnight, and slowly, but surely, they get better. He ends up neglecting himself to put his child’s needs first, and by the time you get back, he’s burning up with a fever. But the baby is perfectly content and sleeping soundly in the crib because of him.

He wants the best for his family, even if it means sacrificing everything he has. He understands his limits, but there’s nothing he won’t do to make sure his kid gets every opportunity he never had. Sports, college, you name it. If everybody in class has branded sneakers, he’ll buy a pair just so they don’t feel left out. He’s always proud of his baby, and if anybody tried to bully them, they’ll have to answer to him. Allen sees the best of him in his child, but usually fails to see it in himself.

“You can have my egg. I’m not hungry, baby.” Allen says, sliding his plate to his little girl. He knows that you won’t be back with the groceries for an hour or so, and no kids are going hungry on his watch.

Allen doesn’t think there’s a particular way of parenting because no one child is the same. So long as they do their homework, get out under the sun, and have a good attitude, the rest is to be decided. If his child needs extra support, he’ll give it to them, and if they need a reality check, he’ll give that to them too. He reminds them how hard life can be without stability, so they should take their future seriously, but at the same time, he’s always gonna be there to give them a home.

Nobody would mess with his kids after one look at him. He’s an ex-marine without the ‘ex.’ His daughter will have trouble finding a boyfriend to begin with because of him, and when she finally does, they’re gonna have to gain his respect to be trusted with looking after his little girl. If his son ever gets into a fight, he’ll ask if he won then whoop his ass later. And in the principle’s office, he’s giving the other kid the worst stink-eye ever. He’s the dad that could beat up the other dads.

Mathias

He’s a total natural; all is well when the baby is in his care. He may be all over the place, but when he really cares about something, he’s in a constant state of hyper focus. The baby will always be clean, well-fed, and happy, so don’t worry about a thing. There’s also no such thing as 50/50 with Mathias. He knows that there will be times when one person has to take the lead. It’s not in his nature to keep track of who’s giving and taking the most. He’s too mature for that.

It’s like experiencing a second childhood for him. Reading picture books, fairytales, playing with legos, or going to places he went to as a kid, he treats parenthood as a chance to relive his best memories and love every second of it. He will never miss a parent event, performance, and appointment. His dedication makes him very perceptive of his child, so he always knows what to do or say to cheer them up. As they grow up, they maintain a very close relationship to him.

“We wanna go to Legoland!”

“You mean, you wanna go to Legoland,” You laugh at him, “I heard you talking to Bjorn about it last night.”

“That’s so he can make an informed decision, of course,” Mathias grins, not showing a hint of shame as he shuffles over with his phone on the home page of the Legoland site. “So I take that it’s decided?”

He’s a great parent, but he’s by no means strict. All he wants is for them to have a fighting chance in the world, like doing a job that they enjoy. He’s great at communicating with his kids and has a lot of compassion, which takes them a long way. He’s never had to discipline them besides setting boundaries and occasionally grounding them. You rule the home with a firmer hand, and maybe that’s why your kids respect you more but treat him more like a friend than a parent sometimes.

Mathias doesn’t bat an eye when his kids first start dating. He’s always been quite liberal, so he just tells them to be careful about the birds and the bees, then to talk to him if things get testy. The one thing he’ll do is to ensure they have high standards. Love is life’s reward, not something to cry yourself to sleep about. Eventually, he’ll invite their date over for dinner, and as it turns out, he’d be a great father in law. He’s very welcoming and treats any future Densens like one of his own.

Matt

He’s a trial-by-error, improvise as you go along kinda dad. He hasn’t put much thought into the trials of childcare, but he always works things out in his own way. If the bub keeps crying because they don’t want to be bottle-fed by him, he will cover his face with a picture of you. Easy-peasy. If they’re crawling around the bed, he will use them as a mousepad as he scrolls on his laptop. That way, he gets some leisure time while making sure they don’t actually go anywhere.

Matt is the opposite to a helicopter parent. When his kid trips and face plants into the ground, he doesn’t react. The trick is to not acknowledge it, because only then will they cry. He isn’t afraid to let them explore the world and gain their own agency. It’s good for them, he says. Some part of you thinks he just wants them to grow up quicker so he doesn’t have to take care of them anymore, but there’s always those special little moments.

“How about I teach you how to drive the truck?” Matt asks, walking back home with the family.

“He’s eleven.” You remark.

“Is that a problem?”

He’s all about the family business. If his children don’t want to go fishing and logging with him, fine, but if they show even the slightest bit of interest, he’s bought. Matt will be more than eager to show them the ropes. He takes them on camping trips to show them the beauty of the great outdoors, and the humility it takes to be apart of it. The art of it all is there’s no problem that can’t be solved, and even a rugged man like him can be domesticated by the right person.

If his daughter got a boyfriend, he’d be waiting at home with a shotgun. Matt will then play it off like he just got back from a hunting trip. He’s the type to use silent intimidation, and it works like a charm. If not, he’ll tell jerks to get off his lawn even though he doesn’t have one, and when they ask what lawn, he’ll just say “all of it.” What he means is to get out of his sight and the woods, which is the lawn he’s talking about. (Ha!) On the flip side, he’s nice to girls his son brings home.

Losing the spark

Alfred

He has a tendency to let himself go when he gets comfortable. This usually happens when his first kid reaches their teenage years and he can afford to sit back now that they can do their own thing. He’s established a stable family unit, but he takes that for granted and gets a little lazy. As a result, he packs on a few pounds and tries less in the relationship. He’s not as attractive as he used to be, and you’re having more petty arguments.

“Why do I feel like you hate me?” He watches you mop the kitchen after you told him to do it. Only he delayed it to sit around on his phone and eat crisps. Even then, he still has the nerve to be upset about it.

“I don’t hate you, I’m just annoyed at you.”

“But you’re annoyed with me everyday.”

Allen

Losing the spark? Not on his watch! He never stops trying, ever, and keeps chasing you like when he first started dating you. His stability doesn’t come from money, it comes from you. You’re his rock, and nothing else matters so long as you’re here. He’s the epitome of ‘you know how daddy is about mommy,’ and he’s proud of it. He also takes great care of his body, and with his good genes, he practically ages backwards.

“You better wear that button-down shirt tonight, Al. A tank top isn’t gonna cut it,” You tell him.

“You callin’ me a deadbeat?” He questions.

“No, but you dress like one.”

“I thought you liked my clothes, babe.”

“I do, but the teachers won’t.”

“True that.” He fixes his collar in front of a mirror. He peers at his reflection, marveling at how well he cleaned up. A dress shirt and belt? He’s practically unrecognizable — until he grins, that is. “Still got it.”

Mathias

He’s always gonna be young at heart, so his spirit never dies. His love for you is as constant as a river, and he’s not afraid of putting on a show for the kids to the point they get a little disgusted. (Ew!) He doesn’t think he’d ever be too old for romance, and his good faith shows up in how gracefully he ages. He might occasionally grow out a thick beard, and when he shaves it off, he looks devastating close to when he was younger.

“Are we ever gonna be alone again?” He mumbles, pouting. His thirtieth birthday is coming up, but he hasn’t changed a bit, save for the more pronounced smile lines around his mouth. “I need some love too.”

“We will, Mat. I just don’t feel comfortable leaving the baby alone right now,” You shake your head.

“We could call Amy and have a date night.”

“I don’t know, Mat.”

“I’ll shave off my beard.”

“Huh?”

“You wouldn’t say no to me without a beard.”

Matt

The longer he’s with you, the harder he loves. His feelings don’t change when things get hard, or as time passes. They just get stronger. In that same breath, he also ages like wine. In the end, he ends up being the bigger romantic. He used to be a lone wolf, and he thought he was okay with it, but now that he has you, he can’t imagine his life without you. To think you actually stuck around and gave him a chance, he’ll never forget that.

“Wanna go back inside and do it?” He mutters.

“You’re disgusting, Matt.” You walk inside without sparing him a single glance. No matter how old he gets, he’ll always have a mouth on him. No matter how old you get, you’ll always forgive him for it.

“Is that a no?”

“Make me dinner and let me think about it.”

“Deal.”

[tan1shere]

Breathe

Billie Eilish x female reader !

A/n: it's 3 am and I just thought of this. This is so rare for Ms tann to have motivation omg. Anyways enjoy !

Summary: you had been working yourself to the bone, flat out. Causing your girlfriend to worry about you.

Warnings: bit angsty, reader is stressed, panic attack, but fluffy ending MUAH

Masterlist

Frantic.

Your movements were frantic your whole brain was frantic. Speeding up with what you had to get done. It's as if time crept up on you. It was midnight and you couldn't sleep, all because of this thing you needed to do for work. You didn't want to get fired or anything. And that's the constant thing rattling round your brain.

'You're gunna get sacked.'

'You'll loose your spot.'

'They will think you're pathetic'

"What're you doing up love?" You then hear your girlfriend yawn. "Sorry Bills I didn't mean to wake you." She rubs her eyes adjusting to the light you had on in the living room. "You didn't babe. Why are you up this late?" You scatter the papers on the floor trying to find the one your after. "Bubba?" She then says a tad bit louder. "Hm? Oh, I needed to get this done, go back to bed billie-" "You come back to bed baby. You needa sleep." Your head just shakes. "Can't. I have to get this done." She lets out a sigh. "Please come to bed once your done." You mindlessly nod, still focusing on your work.

Days pass where this kept going on. Midnight, daily. She was getting really worried. Concerned. "Baby, it's your day off." She says looking at you scribbling something down on a piece of paper at the kitchen table. "I know but I forgot to do this." She sighs, her worry increasing. She goes to sit next to you. "Sweetheart." You hadn't heard her, too caught up with your burning thoughts. "Look at me." And you do, but not for long. Only to let her talk. "Your running yourself down, you need to take a break. Please." She pleaded.

But she knew deep down you wouldn't budge. You were definitely a hard worker. You didn't want her to worry either, you were fine. Right? "Its ok Bills once I'm done with this I will." "And when is that because it's been days." You continue to write. "Just a few more days." She sighs, standing up and leaving the room.

It was bad, truly bad. You haven't slept in 4 days, nearly 5 once the clock struck 12. You hadn't eaten. It's as if something was wrong with you, you had never done this before. Until the sleep deprivation kicked in. You felt it, feeling your lids slowly close. Your head going along with it, knocking out on the table. You hadn't even realized. That was until Billie came down, ready to shoot some sense into you, when she saw you dead asleep. She was so thankful. Tip toeing around to shut your laptop, when you wake back up again. "Fuck." She curses under her breath.

"Shit!" You say. "How long was I out for?" You ask her, that franticness coming back. "I dunno babe, you-" "No no no." You look at the clock. "It's 12. No..." Her eyes scan your face. Her worried look still evident. "Baby." She says sternly. Sensing what was approaching. "Oh God." You grab your chest trying to stay calm, but with the lack of sleep mixed with the lack of hunger your body just couldn't. A panic attack started to form.

Billie was quick to you, wanting to grab your face to get you to look at her, but truly not wanting to overwhelm you anymore. "Bub, please look at me." Tears build up, your breathing unsteady. "Baby, hey." Her voice was soft. "I-" You begin, feeling your chest tighten. "Can I touch you?" You finally look at her, nodding frantically, feeling like you're going insane. She was quick to grab your hand putting it on her chest. "Do your breathing. In.. and out." You shake your head but she just nods.

"Yes, in and out." Your eyes shut, trying so damn hard to focus on her voice. Then slowly your breathing comes back slightly. "There you go, that's it. Feel how still my heart is?" You nod, feeling her gently place her hand on your chest. "I want yours to be the same. Deep breath in, through your nose." You do so feeling a little bit calmer. "Then out." You breathe out, feeling the exhaustion finally hit you like a wave. "Few more times." She then says, feeling it still beating a bit fast. You nod, fixing your breathing until it was normal again. Things were silent. Until she spoke up.

"Talk to me sweet girl." Her thumb rubs under your eye, moving to the other. "I had to finish this stupid thing which I'm now coming to my senses was for no reason, I had time I don't know what got into me." That was a lie, you do know. And it was your evil coworker. She knew how hard you worked, knowing how intent you could sometimes be, she's the one who riled you up. "Bub." She knew you were lying too, she knew you better than anything. "Fucking Hannah. She's a stupid bitch oh my god. I absolutely hate her and the way she gets to me so easily." Billie grips both your hands in hers.

Making sure you're staying calm. "She bugs me too, I think you need to tell your boss because if anything she should be getting fired. Not you, because you haven't finished something in the right time. But her for being an evil fucking cunt." You sniffle, a small laugh to be heard. "Billie." "What! She is." You smile at her. "Thank you." You then say. "What for angel." Her hand comes to put any loose strand of hair behind your ear. "For being here, I feel like I've been awful." Her head shakes.

"So far from that, you've been working so hard even if it was worrisome. You were so determined and I admire you tons for that." Her words made you smile. "But I really do advice sleep, please." You nod. "Yeah.. I agree with you, I'm definitely feeling it now." She nods. "Dare I say good, its like you were a frozen statue over the past few days." You sigh a bit. "Sorry baby." She squeezes your hands, in an 'it's ok' way. "And Missy. You needa eat something." She then gets up grabbing a small snack from the fridge.

After that you get into bed with her for well needed rest. You turn to face her as her arm slings over your waist. "I missed you." She then says. "Missed snuggling with my girl."She finishes off. You give her a smile. "I'm sorry again, I truly am Billie I never wanted to worry you or for it to get so out of hand like it did." Her hand lands on your cheek so delicately. "Come to me in future my love, talk to me. That's what I'm here for yeah? I'm here for you always." Your body moves to cuddle hers, wrapping your arms around her. She holds you tightly. "From now on we talk hm?" Your head nods as you feel sleep taking over again. "We talk." - "Good." She kisses your forehead.

"I love you." You then say.

"I love you so much more."

[momoswifee]

A Quiet Life

Pairing: Mina x reader

Synopsis: After some years of being together, some problems start to arise.

Warnings: The reader has abandonment issues, Mina is mean in the beginning, they love each other though. Dinking, curse words, motor accidents. They go camping.

w/c: 6003

a/n: It took so long to write this out since I didn’t really know how to do it? Idrk how to explain it but it was a bit harder than I expected. There’s more chapters coming so I hope you guys like it :)Also sorry if there are any grammar mistakes or misspelled words, English is not my first language.

Pt1- Pt2 - Pt3

Two years after you started dating you started to notice more and more Mina’s unhealthy commitment to her job. Of course you were amazed by her skill and how deeply connected she was to her job, but at a certain point it started to be something that had started to impact your relationship negatively. She would no longer stay at your now shared home, instead staying at her apartment even during her breaks, she would answer your texts with short “ok’s” and promises to call you later. 

Now, you sat next to her, the beeping of the machine next to you starting to give you a headache. You hadn’t been able to sleep since you had got to the hospital after Sana had called you, saying that she had found Mina fainted in her apartment. After talking to the doctors, they told you that she was severely dehydrated, underfed and probably running on caffeine. It seemed that she had been intentionally sleep-deprived so that she could do a better job with her part in the upcoming movie. 

“She is taking fluids, she will be okay.” The doctor briefly said in a comforting manner before leaving the room.

You sat right beside her bed, beating yourself up for not seeing the signs. The dodging calls, the short messages. You only thought it was due to increasing stress, you could’ve never guessed that it would’ve come to this. You were aware that Mina tended to overwork herself, but never to this extent. 

“Hmm” you hear from besides you and see Mina slowly open her eyes, a lazy smile forming on her lips as she notices you besides her. “Hi baby” she slurs out. As soon as she opens her eyes, you’re on your feet and already calling for the nurse, just hoping for someone to come and see if Mina is actually fine. “Hey, I’m fine,” she laughs out with a slight rasp, as if your actions are too much. 

“I just want to see if you’re actually fine.” You curtly say, not letting your worry lace itself into your voice. 

“I’m totally fine, they’ll probably tell you that I’m good to go.” She tells you with a smile, trying to sit up, but wincing as she sees that she doesn’t really have the strength to do it properly. 

“Don’t get up, you’re too weak for that.” You tell her sternly as you go to gently push her down so that she is laying down. 

After the nurse had come and had reassured you that everything seemed to be alright for now, you were told that a doctor would come later on to explain what to do next. 

The beeping of the machine is again the only noise in the room, as you can’t bring yourself to speak about what had happened. 

“Sana probably overreacted. I’m totally fine.” Mina says, already going through her bag to get her phone, probably to go back to work as soon as possible. 

“Give me that” You say, snatching the phone from her hands and putting it inside your pocket so that she wouldn’t be able to get her hands on it. “Do not say that Sana overreacted. You fainted. She found you on the floor, she was terrified.” You tell her as you pace around the room, already feeling agitated. 

“It was not that bad…” She tries to say. 

“Not that bad?! Mina!” You stop at her words. “The doctors said you were not eating, not drinking any water. It was something that had been going on for a while! What were you thinking!” You finally say, not even noticing you had raised your voice. “I was worried sick when I got here! Sana was frantic at the door, completely terrified for you, and you were so pale, you look sick.” You spit out.

“Oh yeah poor Sana.” She scoffs. “This is how it is. It’s what it is to work in the industry!” she lets out, letting her frustration come out as well. 

“Don’t use that as an excuse. You have tendencies of overworking yourself. Everyone knows that. I just didn’t think it would get this bad.” You say, frustrated by her attitude, turning your back to her, not wanting to escalate the situation, knowing it wouldn’t be completely fair to her.  You were just so worried about her. 

“Well, it’s my job, it’s how it works whether you like it or not!” She exclaims, getting riled up. “I’m living my dream. I got here on my own, and I worked damn hard to get here.” She continues, forcing herself up to stress her point. “I feel sorry for you. You lost the opportunity of completing your dream. You got hurt and were put off, but guess what! We can’t all spend our days at the shop doing arts and crafts on old furniture or just picking up fruit.” She says rolling her eyes, finding your mini outburst almost ridiculous, mind still clouded with her want to go back to work. “I’m sorry your dream of becoming a famous player didn’t work out,” she continues, not showing signs of stopping. “But I have worked hard to get here, and I’m not going to let a failed hockey player turned arts and crafts kid dictate how I live my life.” 

Every single word she spits out feel like a punch to the gut. You don’t even realize tear had fallen until you feel the salty water slip through your parted lips. “You didn’t sleep for days.” You sigh, closing your eyes, trying to not let her words cloud your judgement. “I hope you’re saying all of this because of this high you’re running on and not because these are thoughts you actually believe in.” You say, now looking her straight in the eye, clenching your fists, hurting your finger from pressing on the promise ring mina had given you on your 2nd year anniversary. “I’m worried about you, and I am asking you to please stop this.” You say, hurt still clear on your face from her previous hurtful words, as you get closer to her bed, taking her hand in yours. 

“Leave then.” Mina says, almost snarling, anger clearly etched on her features as she rips her hand angrily from your gentle ones,  

“Mina…” You say, voice cracking, your hand gaining a mind of its own as it tries to hold hers again. 

“No! Leave. If I’m such a nuisance, if my work habits are too much for you, there’s the door.”

“I-.” You sigh, not finding strength to go on again. “Ok.” You get up, take the phone from your pocket and let it fall on her side, and her hand instead of going to yours, as it was still stubbornly waiting for hers, takes her phone quickly. 

You can only look at her with something alike to disdain. The more you look at her, the more weight you feel on your right hand, the ring looking misplaced. With a final sigh, you take it off and gently place it on the table. As you leave her room, you quickly send a message to Sana to let her know that Mina had woken up and that you would leave for a little while.

Once inside your car, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually turn it on, keys still clenched in your hands. After finally gaining the courage to start the car, you start driving aimlessly and suddenly find yourself in front of Jihyo’s apartment complex. You get out of the car and fight yourself on whether you should ring her door or not, not feeling like you should bother her. As you internally fight yourself on that, you suddenly feel a hand on your shoulder, making you jump. 

“Yn hey, it’s fine” Jihyo says, after seeing you almost jump away from her when she touches you. “Did we have plans?” 

“Uh no- I- I’m sorry no, I just-” You start, stumbling over your words, not knowing what to say exactly. 

“Hey, it’s fine,” she quickly says, grabbing your shoulders, seeing your distressed state. “Let’s go upstairs, we can talk there, yeah?” she asks, guiding you to her flat. 

After you finally tell her all about what had happened, you finally feel comfortable enough to let out a broken sigh, triggering your tears. 

“I’m sure she didn’t mean it, but I-” you gasp in between. “I was so worried when Sana called. When I got there, she looked so pale, so unlike herself.” You say while trying to calm yourself, hastily trying to wipe off your tears. 

“Look,” Jihyo starts, sighing, not knowing exactly what to say. “I’m calling Jeongyeon, see if she can get here. You’re sleeping here, I’m not letting you go back home in this state.” she says, getting up from the couch. “I’m getting you some clothes, you go take a shower because you reek of hospital.” she continues, trying to lighten up the mood with her final statement, successfully drawing a small smile from you. 

As soon as you felt the warm water hit your skin, the tension from the fight started to dissolve, but you still couldn’t stop thinking about Mina’s words. Did she actually see you as a joke? As, as she put it, a child? You felt sick. 

Once out of the shower and into Jihyo’s old clothes, you start going towards her kitchen and suddenly hear Jihyo discussing something over the phone.  

“I don’t care if she’s worried sick! Do you know what she told Yn?” Jihyo angrily whispers, trying to speak as quietly as she can so that you would not hear it. “She was awful to her, and I understand that she’s in a vulnerable place, but she does not have the right to say that to Yn.” 

“Hey, Jihyo called. I got food.” Jeongyeon says from behind you, startling you again. 

“Gosh, you really didn’t have to,” You turn to her, half forgetting about Jihyo’s discussion. “You really didn’t have to come.” 

“Of course I did, she understands.” She says, rolling her eyes playfully at your behaviour. “Come” she says, gently grabbing your arm, guiding you to a table. 

As she makes a plate for you, after much resistance from you, you feel Jihyo come to sit next to you. 

“Sana called.” she sighs. “Mina is worried about you.” she continues, attentive to your reaction, which turns out to only be a low hm, which shocks both your friends. Not wanting to bring you any kind of discomfort, they decide to leave it behind and just try and have an enjoyable dinner. Once you were done, you shooed them away so you could put the dishes away. 

“I’ll go there tomorrow. Maybe she’ll have a clearer head.” You whisper, head comfortably laid on the oldest shoulder, as you three watch a passing movie on the TV. 

“I have a free day tomorrow; I’ll drive you there.” Jihyo tells you, not leaving any room for discussion. 

As soon as you hear their deep breaths and light snores signalling their sleeping state, you turn your phone back on. Once it’s up and running, you see all the messages sent to you, most of them being apologies from Mina. As you read them you debate if you should answer her, if you should give her the comfort of knowing that you’re ok and have read her messages. You decide not to. 

❂

“We’re going to be there, if anything happens, we can just leave.” Jihyo says as you both walk the hospital corridors towards Mina’s room. 

“I just have to talk to her, nothing is going to happen,” you tell them, laughing at their overprotective expressions. 

When you see the door of her room, you feel all the confidence you had been building throughout the morning vanish instantly, and all the words said to you previously come rushing back as soon as you’re inside the room and eye to eye with Mina.

“Yn” Mina gasps out, immediately trying to get up from the bed. 

“No, keep down, you still look weak.” You rush out to her side, not wanting her to get up so quickly. 

“The doctors said I can go home today, I look worse than I actually am” she says with a little laugh, trying to get you to laugh as well but only receiving a nod from you. 

“We’ll leave you to it.” Sana says, breaking the silence, dragging Jihyo with her. 

“I’m staying here with Yn”

“They need to talk, let's go”

“I-” Mina starts after you were left alone. “I’m sorry.”

“Did you mean it?” You ask her, still not looking at her, choosing to stare out of the window instead. 

“No!” she quickly says. “I- I don’t know why I said those things,” she continues with a pained expression. “I’m sorry, Yn, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

“Mina I-” you sigh, going to sit next to her, noticing her state of distress. “I’m sure you meant some of it-

“I didn’t!” she cuts you off, grabbing your hands, desperate to make you understand. "I don't think any of those things. Those are some of the parts of you that I love the most." She continues, tucking a stray hair behind your ear. "The way you so carefully pick the fruit, the way you tend so caringly to your garden is just amazing to me, every time I go back home and see you do those things I feel filled with so much love for you, you don't understand..." She trails off. "I adore the way you, with your masterful hands, craft beautiful pieces for our and others home. I can't even look away when I see you so tenderly restore some pieces that were thrown away by others." She says, stressing her words by bringing your hands to her lips and gently placing small kisses on your knuckles.

“I don’t know why I said those things. I was stressed, I was anxious with all of it and I redirected that to you because I know deep down those are things about yourself that you sometimes doubt are even useful. I shouldn’t have done it, it’s no excuse.” 

“I-” you start at a loss for words after her small confession. “Mina…” you say, looking at your intertwined hands. “I think I understand, but it still hurt.” you continue. “And I need you to try and take a break from all of it. I need you to rest.”

“You can’t just ask me that.” She frowns.

“Mina you-” you say, taking in a breath not wanting to get frustrated with her, knowing this is just how her mind has been wired for a while. “You were sent to the hospital. Can’t you see that you need a break?”

“Can’t you see that you’re asking me to take a break from something that I love? I just told you how good you are at doing things that you love, how can you ask me to stop doing the same?” she weakly asks, taking slowly her hand away from yours. 

“The doctor said you were okay to go home, that you’re good to enough to leave the hospital, not to go back to work.” You try, as gently as possible. “You have to take a break, I’m not asking you to leave your work behind, I know that it’s what makes you, you. I’m just asking you to take a breath at home, regain your energy, maybe in the meantime you’ll understand that what you’re doing isn’t exactly healthy.”

“I’ll follow the doctors’ orders for now, we can work on the other part later, ok?” she asks, making you almost instantly give in, although you weren’t at all satisfied with the suggested compromise, thinking to yourself that you would just keep an eye on her and then start working on her overworking tendencies.

❂

Mina hadn't been able to see you in a while since she had been abroad filming her final scenes in an upcoming movie and the distance had taken a toll on both of you. She missed you, she missed her house. When she was finally done with filming her final scenes, she booked the ticket as soon as possible to go home to you. 

As soon as she pulls up in the driveway, she is faced with something she had missed: you running around the garden chasing a very wet Otis with a hose in his mouth. 

"You come here!" You say as you chase Otis around the backyard, trying to stop him from going inside. 

"What is going on?" Mina asks, unable to contain her laughter, as she gets out of the car and runs to the porch, out of the war zone. 

"I-" you stop for a minute to regain your breath. "Mina" you say smiling at her, starting to walk up to her and engulfing her in a hug. "I missed you" you whisper, voice muffled by her shoulder. “You should’ve told me you were coming back! I thought it was only by the end of the week!”

She laughs and hugs you just as tight, kissing your head. "I missed you too, just wanted to surprise you."

Suddenly you both hear a bark, making you quickly pull away to see what had happened, only to see Otis completely covered in mud. 

"You know, that had to be replaced anyway..." Mina says laughing as she watches you chase around your dog. 

"Didn't have to be replaced because of this" you say, out of breath, already with the hose in hand, looking down to your clothes now as dirty as him. 

After finally being able to catch him and bringing him for a long bath, he has returned to his previous white fur and was sprawled on top of Mina as they watched the news, and you cooked dinner.

"Is he interested on the rise of the prices of housing in central Europe?" You ask, watching over both of them attentively. 

"Oh yeah, he had plans of getting a house there and maybe settling down, but I guess he'll have to look elsewhere." She says, caressing behind Otis's ears. 

"Oh yeah definitely, after the stunt he pulled today, he's going to have to compensate the damage with a week of his pay cheque"

"A week?!" She exclaims in mock offence, twisting her neck to be able to look at you. "He's such a hard worker, and you just take all of that from him?" 

"Shouldn't have flooded the garden." You say shrugging. 

"Oh bud, she doesn't deserve your love." Mina says pushing her face into his fur, kissing him to comfort him over his salary being reduced, making you laugh at the sight. 

As you were dicing some of the vegetables you see Mina's hands sneak around your waist and feel her face behind pressed against your back. 

"I missed this," she says, voice muffled. "You being a complete asshole to our son, watching you cook us dinner"

"You ass" you say laughing turning around in her arms after her comment. "I was not an asshole to Otis"

She only laughs, head slightly tilted, giving you her best smile. "Tomato, Tomato"

"There is no Tomato or Tomato in this situation" you chuckle, resting your head on her shoulder. 

"Eh there is" she continues, not willing to 'let you win'. "What are your plans for tomorrow?" she finally asks, stepping a little away from you so that you can tend to the food. 

"Hmm" you say as you move to look over the sizzling fish, still feeling her hand softly on your hip. "I was thinking we could stay in?" you suggest, to which she quickly agrees, eager to spend some quality time with you. 

Once you're in bed waiting for Mina to join you after she finishes her night routine, you decide to read one last chapter. Since you were too engrossed into the book, you didn't even feel the bed dip beside you and Mina's presence until she adjusts your falling glasses. 

"You need to get them adjusted," she whispers curling up next to your sitting frame, making you immediately drop the book and take off your glasses to join her. 

"They're perfectly fine." You assure her, bringing her closer to you and nuzzling your face into her neck, feeling her hair tickling your face. Not feeling energized to answer, she only hums appreciating the warmth of your skin against hers.

❂

Mina took every opportunity to be with you, not taking any moment for granted, just wanting to be near you. Once you noticed she was spending more and more time with you, even at work (not that you were at all complaining) you eventually asked if she'd like to help in the shop. You had to admit that it was nice to have her around you almost all the time. The time she had spent abroad filming her movie had been hard on both of you. 

After finally finding a day that worked for everyone, you all organized a camping outing between friends by the lake nearby. The difficult part wasn’t making time and finding free time in between schedules, the difficult time was Mina finding the courage to wake you up, so now there she laid you on top of her, head snuggled into the crock of her neck, letting out soft snores.  Even though she had already been home for some time now, Mina still took a deep breath after she woke up every day. The little lavender accents that she had added when she moved in with you, your citrus fragrance lingering in the air, it was all everything she could ask for. After completely waking up, she noticed you were still asleep, and she couldn't bear to wake you up.

She gently moved you so that you wouldn't wake up and quietly went to the kitchen to prepare you both breakfast and everything to take for the picnic. 

“I don’t think I like this new habit of yours where you just don’t wake me up and do everything yourself.” You slur out as you lazily walk into the kitchen straight towards her.

“You look too peaceful to wake up, I always hate doing that.” 

You hum against her back before letting go, groaning as you stretch your arms out, exposing some of your skin as your shirt rides up. 

“You know…” you hear from behind, feeling her hands already sneaking up your shirt, tickling your skin. “We can just say we caught the flu and stay in?” She says, kissing up your jaw. 

“They’ll kill us.” You try, but not making any attempt to move away from her. 

She only non-committally nods in response to your reasoning, leaning in to brush her lips against yours. “I’m sure we’ll be just fine”. She pulls you in by the waist, her hands creeping up your back as she finally leans in to kiss you. 

As you’re getting busy, not even thinking about the outing that had been planned with your friends, your phone starts to ring. 

“I’m killing whoever is calling you,” Mina whispers against your lips, hands secure on your waist, not wanting to let you go. 

“I swear to everything holy, if you’re not ready to go I’m coming over and putting you inside the trunk of my car”

“I’ve always loved your good mornings, so supportive, so wholesome.” you say rolling your eyes as you pick up the phone, looking over to a questioning Mina on your side. “It’s Jihyo.” you whisper to her. 

“I would be nice if you had a record of being on time you know?”

“I’m always on time!”

Since you seemed to be too occupied with the call and no longer focusing on her, Mina decided to finish packing the fruits before letting you know she would be going to get ready, 

“We’ll be there on time, but you do realize it’s just a picnic, right?” you ask her, half amused, as you put the drinks inside the cooler. 

“I’m well aware, I just wanted to make sure.”

“Sure, I’m still in my pjs but we’ll be there on time”

“You’re still on your-”

“Bye!” you say, cutting her off, happy with yourself for riling her up a little.

❂

“I told you to get those tightened,” Mina says as she watches your glasses slide off your face as you lean down to pick up the cooler. “Last week they almost fell into the dishwasher.” 

“I know…” You say, adjusting said glasses. “I planned on going yesterday, but then I had to stay at the shop, so I didn’t really get a chance.”

“She could’ve just got them tightened when we went to pick them out, but she didn’t want to say anything.” Jihyo shrugs, coming up from behind you to help take off more of the food from the car.

“They were good at the time, they were not as loose, shut up.” You say, walking towards the pebbles near the lake. 

“They were, you just avoid talking to other people when it comes to things like this, so now you have extra loose glasses,” Jeongyeon adds as she follows the two of you. 

“I’ll go right after the weekend.” You groan, rolling your eyes playfully at their insistence. 

“Don’t roll your eyes at me, I’m older than you” Jihyo says, pinching your arm playfully

“By two months??” you exclaim, rubbing your arm

“Still older” she shrugs

After setting up the tents at the camping park, you take a walk down to the lake. Once you arrive, you are met with a beautiful body of water in yellow and greenish shades, surrounded by big trees with branches so big they were almost covering the sky. There were little frogs leaping through the little pebbles and fish swimming through the algae. You decide to sit up on the grass near the rocks, seeming like a good place to stay to enjoy the quiet. 

“This deck will need fixing soon…” Jeongyeon says as she picks up a loose wooden part at the beginning of it. Her concerns fall on deaf hears as she sees you running past her with a very competitive Jihyo right behind you towards the water.

Mina had decided to just sit at the edge of it, happy to just watch you all swim around, it not being her favourite activity. She was satisfied with just watching you have fun. Her eyes were stuck on you when suddenly you decided to dive and didn’t come right up. As she goes to get up, worry already starting to spread to her, you come up for air, right next to where she stood, giving her a silly smile, making her heart melt and worry disappear.

"Thought I lost you there," she says, returning your smile, tracing little stars on your wet shoulders. 

"Were you worried?” you ask laughing. “You know you can’t get rid of me that easily". 

“I’m glad.” She says, looking down at you lovingly. If she weren’t in public with all your friends watching, she would’ve probably let herself fall into the water to kiss all over your face. Instead, you both just stayed there for a while, simply basking in each other’s presence, not seeing any need in getting out. 

“Mina?” Sana called out. “Your agent is calling you!”

“On a Sunday of all days.” Mina grumbles as she gets up quickly, annoyed for having her quiet time interrupted.  

You only chuckle, continuing to swim through the warm water. 

“I thought she was on holiday?” Jihyo asks, swimming towards you, flicking water from her fingers to your face. 

“Yup, must be something to do with the press tour? ‘m not sure though…” 

After a while of mindless talking, Mina comes back with a small smile on her face. 

“So?” 

“I just have to go to the office next week, have some papers to sign because of a deal.” she happily says, sitting again on the deck.

“That’s really good!” You say as you swim towards her, kissing the hand dangling into the water. “If you want, I can drive you there.” You suggest, gaining the immediate approval of your friend. 

“Yes, please, I have been trying to get her to come try the new ice rink that just opened up.”  She says, shaking you by the shoulders. 

“Why are you shaking me, you turd?” You say, shaking her hands away from you, spitting out the water you almost swallowed.  

“ ‘Cuz I want you to come play with me” She retorts. 

“Sana?” Mina calls. “Want to arrange a play date? These two want to hang out.”

“Aw yeah, of course, here’s my phone.” She says, handing her phone to Mina and getting in on the little joke. “Put your number in, and we’ll arrange it!”

They only laugh more when they see you both staring at them with no reaction. 

“Do they think they’re funny?” Jihyo asks, looking at you, still with no expression on her face.

 “I think they think they’re hilarious.”

After deciding that you were taking Mina to the agency and later going to play with Jihyo, you let yourself be swallowed by the water, still hearing Mina’s melodious laugh through the water surrounding you. Out of nowhere, a crashing sound is heard, right to your left, making you look right away. There is Mina, smiling at you with the thin sun rays illuminating her face, wiggling towards you to bring you closer to her. Once close enough, she softly plants her lips on yours in a brief kiss, before grabbing your hand and swimming up to get you both to the surface. 

❂

“...no I don’t think you understand,” Jeongyeon laughs. “Those two during Halloween were just not the little saints everyone thought they were.” she continues as she points to you and Jihyo, both annoyed by her idea of sharing childhood stories. 

“Whatever she says is going to be greatly exaggerated, just so you know.” Jihyo cuts in, as she prepares the meat. 

“Agreed, what we did was perfectly reasonable”

“Anyway, during Halloween,” she continues, ignoring your objections. “Those two loved to dress up in the most elaborate costumes to get as much candy as possible. So, one year they devised a plan. They canvassed the houses in town to see where they handed most of the candy. A week before Halloween they arranged a little stand on the playground and lured kids in, saying they had a map of the best places to get candy. They told them that to get the map, they had to pay 1 dollar, and since a lot of kids thought this was a great idea, almost everyone gave them the money. Yn to rile them in even gave a speech about how people were starting to care less about actually giving out candy, that children no longer need that much sugar in their tiny bodies.” By that point, you get up and go to Jihyo’s side. 

“Think Mina will ever let me near her nephew again?” 

“I mean it’s not like we actually did something bad,” she says, and even if you’re not directly facing her, you know she has a big smile on her face. 

“...turns out, that was a map of the health brigade parents, that at the time were just giving out fruit and stuff like trail mix. Those two went to all the right houses and since no kid had shown up all night, they got all the candy from these oh so innocent kind-hearted people. They were thrilled and ran home as soon as possible with all the candy they got their tiny hands on.” By then Mina has her head thrown back, laughing at your idiotic plans from when you were ten, and for once you thanked Jeongyeon for airing your stories out. 

“I had to be their bodyguard for like a week since there were a lot of angry kids after them,” Jeongyeon says in between laughs. “They were lucky they had a friend in a higher grade to ‘protect’ them.” She proudly ends. 

“You took 30 percent of our candies, you didn’t do it for free.” You grumble as you sit in your previous spot. “So please get out of your high horse.”

“Well,” she starts grinning at your annoyed face. “My services aren’t for free-”

“You also ratted us out to our parents,” Jihyo says cutting her off. 

“You got grounded?” Mina asks, laughing at you both. 

“I did, had to give out half of the candy to the other kids…” Jihyo complains, letting her head fall on Sana’s shoulder. 

“My dad just took half my sweets, he said it wasn’t that bad of an idea, just poorly executed.” You shrug with a smile on your face. 

“Yeah, you’re not going to be allowed to be alone with my nephew again, you’ll corrupt him.” Mina teasingly says.

The night goes on, and more stories are shared until Mina and Sana are saying their good nights and going to their tents, leaving you and your friends behind. 

“It’s a shame Nayeon couldn’t come.” Jihyo says after a moment of silence, gaining hums of agreement. 

“Yeah, but she couldn’t just fly in, she had the business trip planned for a while.”

“Speaking off…” Jihyo starts, wiggling her eyebrows at you. “Have you picked it up?”

“How was that even related?”

“I- uh yeah” you say, picking up your phone to show them a picture of it. 

“Hm, you picked well.” Jeongyeon tells you, her hand squeezing your shoulder. 

You could only smile at them, happy to have their support through all of this. From the moment you called them in a state akin to panic to this very moment. You couldn’t wait for the perfect moment to finally ask Mina. 

❂

“Ok so, I’ll call you but I’m probably going to be done by 7, and we can grab dinner.” Mina offers through the window of your car. 

“We’re probably done by 7-7:30? She said it was right by her house but it’s 30 minutes out.”

“I’ll wait at Sana’s then. The agency is not too far from her house, I can catch an Uber or something.”

Once you’re done with the little drills in the new rink, you wait for Jihyo to finish up hers. 

“So, have you given it more thought? Do you know when you’ll be popping the question?” Jihyo says, skating to you after putting in some pucks. 

“I’m not sure? She’s going on her press tour soon, so I think I’ll wait for a bit,” you say getting up to help her with her gear.  “I have all the time in the world.” You add with a lovesick smile. 

“You’re insufferable I hate it.” She says jokingly, taking off her helmet. “Help me carry these out, the kids didn’t storage them.” She points to the cones next to the wall. 

Once out of the rink and ready to pick Mina up after a short shower, you’re both inside the car and Jihyo is deep in her feels, blasting “Casual” by Chappell Roan. 

“You are in a stable relationship, why are you screaming like someone took your heart out and stomped on it?” you question laughing at her behavior. 

“I just imagined a scenario so that I could sing it with passion, obviously” she simply answers, not caring about your teasing comment. “No way!” She suddenly says. 

“What?” You quickly answer, alert to whatever danger she might me pointing out.

“Look over there,” she says, pointing at the tree you were about to pass. “There are owls here too!” she excitedly tells you. 

You laugh at that but do take your eyes off the road for a second to look at them. If you hadn’t, you would have noticed that the driver didn’t see his stop sign and was heading straight to you.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Born Under a Bad Sign | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader (Eventual ? ;) )

Warnings: mentions of religious trauma, mentions of smut, dean’s self-esteem is rly bad :(, canon violence, canon gore

Word Count: 6130

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You and Sam had always been close friends, but you became even more like siblings after your last hunt. He seemed to understand you on a deeper level after you described your battle with religion to him. You understood him and his praying practices, and you were happy he was able to find some peace through it. You’d always bonded before over cult classic movies and your shared love of learning, but you were grateful to get to know him more than just on the surface level.

Your relationship with Dean was changing, too. You knew it scared him a bit; it scared you, too. But you were grateful that you had him in your life. You’d never cared for someone before the way you cared about him. However, the two of you left that part unspoken and let your bodies speak for themselves.

Dean visited your motel room more and more frequently after Sam fell asleep at night. You knew Sam had some clue as to what was going on between you and his brother, but he hadn’t prodded into your relationship much. For that, you were thankful.

Most of the time, Dean wasn’t even coming to your room for sex. He genuinely just wanted to be close to you or talk to you. The simple intimacy of sitting on the floor and playing a few rounds of Rummy or lying in bed and holding each other close while you talked about the most mundane things was almost better than sex for you. Your life was revolving less around hunting and more around Dean, and you weren’t quite sure how to feel about that.

That was, at least, until Sam went missing.

When Dean noticed Sam was gone, he was leaving your room after staying the night with you. He burst back into the room, saying, “(Y/N), get dressed, Sam’s gone.”

“What?” You jumped up, pulling jeans on. “Whaddaya mean ‘gone’?”

“I mean he’s gone, (Y/N). He’s gone,” he responded gruffly, raking a hand through his hair.

“Wait, are you sure he didn’t just go out for coffee or something?” you questioned, trying to calm him down.

“No, dude, it’s ten A.M.,” he replied. 

“Okay, well let’s call him,” you said. You pressed your phone to your ear only to find it went straight to voicemail.

“Dammit!” Dean could tell by the look on your face what happened.

*** “Dean, you really need to sleep,” you urged. His eyes had bags hanging under them and his hair was a mess from the number of times he’d run his hand over it. You couldn’t get him to sleep for more than a few hours the previous night when his body finally gave out. 

You’d spent three days thus far looking for Sam and driving all over the country looking for him. You tried tracking his phone, but you had no luck. In fact, the reason why was because he’d left his phone in the Impala. Bobby and Ellen hadn’t seen or heard from him, either. 

“(Y/N), I’m fine, dammit,” Dean responded harshly.

“I’m not gonna put up with you being a dick just because you’re stressed,” you shot back. “I’m worried about Sam, too. But you’re no good to him so sleep-deprived that you can’t tell your right from your left. I’m gonna start drugging you if you don’t go to bed voluntarily.”

He blinked at you, seeming curious about the last part of your statement.

“I’m kidding,” you said, pausing momentarily. “Maybe.”

He thought about your words for a minute. “Fine,” he murmured.

“Sorry? What was that?” you asked, half-mockingly.

“You heard me,” he grumbled back.

You conceded, giggling a little. 

“Don’t let me sleep any more than five hours,” he told you as you pushed him toward the bed in your motel room. 

“I’m not.” You were lying, though, and you had no doubt Dean picked up on that.

“(Y/N)—” he warned.

“Okay, okay. Fine. Just go to bed, asshole,” you told him, finally shoving him back on the bed.

About twenty minutes later, you’d readied for bed and headed over to Dean’s sleeping form. You sat on the bed across from him, and you brushed your hand over his hair. He breathed out contentedly, subconsciously relaxing under your touch. You smiled softly to yourself and crawled into bed next to him. You did your best not to disturb him while you got comfortable.

Fully settled, you took in his sculpted features. There were very few times you had seen Dean at peace even in his sleep, and this was not one of those times. You knew his sleep was necessary, but it was clear by the tension in his face that it was not going to be the most rested sleep in the world for him. 

Even in the midst of this awful situation, there was a nagging want in your heart for Dean. You knew neither of you were in a position for a real relationship, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t want one. In fact, you knew you were beginning to fall hopelessly in love with him. 

‘Fuck. I do love him,’ you thought. ‘Damnit, I am so fucked.’

“Hey, stop,” Dean muttered. “Stop!” he said, voice stronger this time.

“Dean?” you asked quietly, sitting up on your elbow.

“Fuck, stop it!” Dean cried. “Leave him alone!”

‘Oh, god, he’s gotta be dreaming about Sam,’ you thought. You began shaking him to try and wake him up. 

“No, no!” he screamed, writhing under you. 

“Dean!” You shook him harder.  

He lurched up, grabbing your wrist and flipping you on your back. He pinned your wrist above your head. 

You and Dean breathed heavily in each other’s faces, yours and Dean’s adrenaline pumping. When he realized what he was doing, he immediately let go of you. 

“Oh, god, I’m sorry—” Dean began.

“Dean, it’s okay,” you told him. 

“Did I hurt you?” he asked, gently grabbing your hands to begin to inspect your wrists for injuries.

You let him hold your hands, assuring him, “No, no! I’m okay, really. See?”

He was silent while he caught his breath, unable to look at you. You put your hand on his cheek and guided his face up gently to make him look at you. “Dean. I’m fine. I’m not upset.”

You could see tears forming in his eyes which was likely the reason he looked away. He pulled away from you and once looked down once more. You grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly to reassure him. “I know you’re upset, but you gotta go back to bed, okay? We’re no good to Sam when we’re tired zombies,” you attempted to joke. 

He said nothing, but he did lay back down with you. He turned in your hold to let you wrap your arms around his stomach and run your hands up his bare chest. You pressed kisses to the back of his shoulders, and his breathing evened out. 

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured so quietly you almost didn’t hear it.

It caught your attention, and you pulled his shoulder to get him to turn to you. He allowed you to roll him onto his back, and you propped yourself up on your elbow to look down at him. “Don’t ever let me hear you say that again,” you chastised as gently as you possibly could. You knew aggravation was seeping through your tone, though not at him. “I know you won’t believe me if I tell you, but you do.”

“(Y/N)—”

“No. Don’t. You are—” you cut yourself off, consistently shocked by how lowly Dean thought of himself. “I mean, I care about you. A lot. You know that.”

He nodded. 

“Then why can’t you believe you’re deserving of me? I’m here, aren’t I?” you asked rhetorically. “That’s not a mistake. If anything, I feel undeserving of you.”

“What?” Dean scoffed. “Why?”

“See? See how ridiculous that sounds?”

Dean eyed you for a moment. “I see what you did there.”

You smiled, but soon returned to seriousness. “Seriously. I care about you. A lot. For… a number of reasons. I can’t believe you think you don’t deserve me. I mean, you’re Dean fucking Winchester. You— you’re so strong. You’re really just… impressive as a human being. You’re smart, and funny, and— Jesus Christ— so fucking handsome. And— hmm!”

Dean cut you off by pulling you down to him and kissing you roughly. This kiss was different than others you’d shared before. It was passionate and kind all at once, and it was clear how hungry you were for each other. When you broke the kiss, the two of you pecked each other one final time before simply resting your foreheads together. 

“I was talking,” you said, breathless. 

He chuckled; one that rumbled deep in his chest. “Needed to kiss you, though.”

“Oh, shut up, you just didn’t wanna listen to me talk about you anymore,” you replied playfully.

“Oh, no, I was definitely enjoying that,” he snarked.

“Sure, Jan,” you laughed. You leaned down to kiss him once more before settling back down against him.

A few minutes passed before Dean found the courage to speak again. “Hey, can you, um—”

“Spit it out, Dean, I’m tired,” you said sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Just— Nevermind.”

“No, what?” you asked, head perking up. “C’mon, what?”

“Can you… spoon me again?”

You smiled, nodding excitedly. “That’s so cute.”

“Aw, shut up,” he muttered, rolling away from you. 

“I’m serious!” you said, peppering kisses along his shoulders. “I like that you let me hold you. Most guys wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he murmured, stroking your arm that was wrapped around his chest with his thumb.

You giggled, kissing his shoulder again. “Goodnight, Dean.”

“G’night, sweetheart.”

***

You spent the next several days searching for Sam. A week had passed with no word from him.

You leaned against the car next to a fidgeting Dean, hands in your pockets and staring at the ground. 

“Ellen, it's me again. Any chance you've heard from him?” Dean asked into his phone. “I swear, it's like looking for my dad all over again. I'm losing my mind here… No, I've called him a thousand times, there's nothing but voicemail. I don't know where he went, or why. Sam's just gone.” His phone beeped. “Hang on,” he told Ellen.

You could see “Sam’s cell” appearing on the screen of Dean’s phone. Your posture straightened as Dean answered the phone. “Sammy? Where the hell are you? Are you okay?... Hey, hey, hey! Calm down. Where are you? Alright, don't move, I'm on my way.”

***

You burst through the door of the room Sam told Dean he was in to find Sam sitting completely motionless, staring blankly ahead. 

“Sam? Hey,” Dean said, moving over to him.

“Hey, guys,” he said numbly.

You kneeled down in front of him, and Dean took the opposite side. “Are you bleeding?” you asked him, noting the blood covering his abdomen and knuckles.

Sam couldn’t look at you. “I tried to wash it off.”

Dean mumbled, “Oh, my god,” upon noticing his younger brother’s shirt.

“I don't think it's my blood,” Sam murmured.

“Whose is it?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know.”

“Sam, what happened?” you questioned gently.

He looked up at you. “I— I don’t remember anything.”

***

You found out Sam had checked into that motel a few days ago, had been smoking, stealing liquor from gas stations, and discovered a bloody knife in the back of a car he’d stolen. Your mind reeled at why Sam could’ve possibly done this. He was not this kind of person, and yet, you were beginning to get a little afraid of him. Is this what the yellow-eyed demon was going to turn him into?

Sam seemed more shaken than you or Dean did, and your heart ached for the poor guy. You couldn’t imagine not understanding what was happening to your own mind and body. He said he couldn’t remember anything beyond a diner you stopped at in West Texas; over a week ago and right before he went missing. 

Night fell as Dean drove down the highway the gas station attendant had pointed you toward, saying Sam drove off this way. 

“What's going on with you, Sam? Hm? 'Cause smoking, throwing bottles at people, I mean, that sounds more like me than you,” Dean quipped.

You weren’t sure what was more shocking; Sam smoking menthols like a chimney and chucking a bottle of liquor at a gas station attendant, or the fact that he couldn’t remember the last week. 

Suddenly, the younger brother perked up. “Dean, wait, right here. Turn down that road.”

“What?”

“I don't know how I know, I just do.”

Dean complied and turned down a back road onto a private property. Surrounding the house were emergency flood lights and security cameras capturing every possible angle of the home.

“Whoever lives here, I'd say they don't like surprises,” Sam noted as the three of you approached the house. You were surprised the flood lights hadn’t come on yet. 

“Should we knock?” Dean questioned.

“Yeah, I guess,” Sam said.

You poked your head around the corner of the house while the boys talked. You quirked your head in confusion at the sight of broken glass covering the porch beneath a shattered window. “Hey guys?” 

They came over to you, and you waved your flashlight around the window.

“I'm surprised the cops didn't show. Place like this you'd think it'd have an alarm,” Dean commented.

Sam found a disabled alarm on the wall. “Yeah, you would.”

“What the fuck, man,” you muttered. You were the first to crawl into the house through the shattered window. Glass crunched beneath your boots when they hit the floor, and you waved your flashlight around the room to find turned over chairs, knocked over lamps, and broken picture frames. You shot a concerned look back at the boys before you followed the trail of displaced items to a back office. You nearly tripped over a body lying on the floor in the dark. You yelped in surprise, and Dean caught your arm before you could fall.

“Hit the lights,” he told his brother. You could hear the apprehension in his voice.

When the lights came on, you knelt next to the body. The middle-aged man was slumped on the floor on his side, and you turned him over to reveal his deeply cut throat. You put a hand over your mouth, and shot a worried glance at Dean. Dean’s eyes were on the body, widened in horror.

“I did this,” Sam breathed out.

“We don’t know that,” Dean immediately responded.

“What else do you need?” Sam scoffed. “I mean, how else do you explain the car, the knife, the blood—”

You got up from the floor. “Sam, I don’t know, man, but this just doesn’t seem—” You ran a hand through your hair and turned away from him. 

“Look, even if you did do this I'm sure you had a reason, you know; self-defense, uh, he was, he was a bad son of a bitch, something!” Dean was still crouched on the floor, and he patted the body down. “He doesn't have any ID.”

“I need your lockpick,” Sam said.

You and Dean eyed him strangely. “What?”

“I need your lockpick,” he repeated. He took it and opened a double door closet inside the room. It revealed another room lined wall to wall in newspaper clippings, maps, and weapons.

“Holy shit,” you murmured.

“Either this guy's a Unabomber—” Dean began.

Sam cut him off. “Or a hunter. I think I killed a hunter.”

You looked up at a security camera in the corner of the room. “Let’s find out.” Dean had taken the SD card out of the security camera and handed it over to you. You cracked the password on the man’s computer and opened the file attached to the SD card. You went back in the footage to the day before Sam checked into the motel room, and your hand flew to your mouth.

Sam was dragging the struggling man behind the desk and propped him up against himself before slitting his throat. 

Dean inhaled sharply. “How do you erase this? Huh?” he questioned you.

“Already on it,” you said.

“I killed him, Dean. I just broke in and killed him,” Sam murmured.

“Listen to me. Whoever this guy is, he's a hunter. Which means that other hunters are going to come looking for his killer, which means we've got to cover our tracks, okay?” Dean said frantically.

Sam picked something up off the desk next to you while you continued working on the computer. “His name was Steve Wandell. This is a letter from his daughter.”

Suddenly, Dean grabbed the computer off the desk in front of you, slamming it to the ground beside you, making you jump. He stomped it to bits for good measure, breathing raggedly.

“Start wipin’ down your prints,” he said, handing you and Sam rags. “C’mon, let’s go.”

You and Sam were still too in shock to process what was going on. It dawned on you then that you may actually have to kill Sam. You couldn’t live with yourself if it came to that.

***

You and the brothers returned to Sam’s motel room to regroup, get some sleep, and take off before anyone could discover what Sam had done. Your mind was reeling with the possibility of having to put Dean’s brother down. You would never forgive yourself, and you knew Dean wouldn’t either. 

“Alright, we get a couple hours sleep and then we put this place in our rearview mirror,” Dean asserted.

Sam remained motionless near the door.

“Look, I know this is bad, okay? You gotta snap out of it. Sam, say something!” Dean pleaded.

The younger brother’s shoulders were slumped, and his sad eyes turned up to Dean. “Just get some sleep and leave in the morning? Murder, Dean. That's what I did.”

Dean seemed to search for words for a moment. “Maybe.”

Sam scoffed.

“Okay? Hey, we don't know... shapeshifter!”

“Oh, come on. You know it wasn't, you saw the tape. There was no eye flare, no distortion—”

Dean turned away from Sam. “Yeah, but it wasn't you! Alright? I mean, yeah, it might have been you, but it wasn't you.”

Sam sat down on the bed. “Well, I think it was. I think maybe more than you know.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean grunted.

“For the last few weeks I've been having... I've been having these feelings.”

“What feelings?” you questioned, crouching to the ground in front of him while Dean continued to fume.

“Rage. Hate. And I can't stop it.” Sam couldn’t lift his gaze to you. “It just gets worse. Day by day, it gets worse.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” you asked as gently as you could.

“I didn't want to scare you.”

“Well, bang-up job on that,” Dean quipped.

“Dean, the yellow-eyed demon, you know he has plans for me. And we both know that he's turned other children into killers before, too.”

The older brother turned around, eyes blazing. “No one can control you but you.

“It sure doesn't seem like that, Dean, it feels like no matter what I do, slowly but surely I'm, I'm just becoming—” he trailed off, swallowing down his emotion.

“What?”

“Who I'm meant to be. I mean, you said it once yourself. I gotta face up to who I am,” Sam continued.

Dean threw his arms up. “I didn’t mean this!”

The brunet’s eyes got teary. “But it's still true. You know that. Dad knew that too. That's why he told you, if it ever came to this…”

“Sam, stop it,” you begged.

“You promised me, (Y/N),” Sam said sadly. “You promised.”

Dean crossed the room to you in a flash. “No. Listen to me. We're gonna figure this out. Okay? I mean, there's gotta be a way, right?”

“Yeah, there is.” Sam took a handgun from the duffel bag resting on the bed beside him and shoved it into your hand. “I don't wanna hurt anyone else. I don't wanna hurt you two.”

You jumped back from Sam, and for the first time ever, holding a gun felt uncomfortable and foreign to you. 

“You won't,” Dean argued. “Whatever this is, you can fight it.”

“No. I can't. Not forever. (Y/N), you gotta do it.” Tears pooled in Sam’s eyes. He stared at you, pleading evident within his gaze.

You looked down at the gun and back at Sam.

“(Y/N), I swear, if you do this—”

“I know, Dean!” You looked up at Sam shakily. “I don’t wanna do this.”

Sam nodded. “I know.”

You looked between a torn Dean and resigned Sam. You shook your head and dropped the gun. “I can’t.”

Dean sighed in relief, and Sam stood. You shouldered past him toward the door of the room to get some air.

“That’s too bad,” you heard Sam say behind you, his voice suddenly sending a chill down your spine. The next thing you heard was Dean grunting, and you wheeled around to see him drop to the floor. Sam loomed over you next, and you tried your best to fight him off. However, you knew it was pointless. The pistol he’d given you whipped across your face powerfully, and the world went black.

***

The next time you came to, an incessant knocking was filling your ears. You heard Dean groaning a few feet away from you, and you suddenly remembered what happened. 

The motel manager opened the door. “Hey. It's past your checkout.”

“What?” Dean questioned groggily.

“It's past checkout, and I've got a couple here needs your room.” The manager gestured to an embarrassed businessman with a hooker standing behind him.

Dean grumbled, “Yeah, I'll bet they do. What time is it?”

“Twelve-thirty.”

“That guy who was with us, have you seen him?”

“Yeah, he left before dawn in your car, and you should have gone with him, because now I'm gonna have to charge you extra.”

“Oh, son of a…” Dean muttered.

“It's just policy, sir.”

“We need to use your computer,” you spoke up.

The manager folded his arms. “Now, why would I let you use my computer?” *** The manager counted the stack of cash you and Dean scrounged up to pay him off for letting you two use his computer. 

Your mind raced as Dean tracked his brother down on the phone with their cellular provider. What was wrong with Sam? Was this really who he was now? Who could he have possibly been going to see and why? Could he have killed another hunter? Could you have stopped it if you just pulled the trigger? Did you do the right thing?

Dean’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. “(Y/N), we gotta go. Duluth, Minnesota.”

***

You and Dean drove hours in silence. Dean surprisingly hadn’t put on one of his many cassette tapes to fill the silence. Your heart in your throat and breathing labored, you were finally brave enough to offer your hand to him. You couldn’t look at him, afraid he’d maybe be angry with you or wouldn’t need your comfort, but you kept your hand on the seat between you all the same. Finally, he joined his with yours and squeezed tightly. Neither of you said a word or looked at each other, but you kept each other grounded in your completely unfathomable situation.

When you arrived at the bar you’d tracked Sam to in Duluth, you and Dean grabbed flasks of holy water from the trunk and your handguns from Dean’s glovebox; although you knew you couldn’t use the latter on Sam. 

You could hear Sam talking, but you couldn’t quite tell what he was saying or who he was talking to through the door of the bar. On Dean’s count of three, the two of you burst through the door with your guns ready.

“Sam!” Dean yelled.

You noticed the person he’d been talking to was a tied-up and gagged Jo, and Sam took a knife from above her on the post she was tied to and held it to her throat. His calm expression shifted to one of desperate panic, and you suddenly realized what was happening.

“I begged you to stop me, Dean,” Sam cried.

“Put the knife down, dammit,” Dean ordered.

“I told you I can't fight it! My head feels like it's on fire, all right?! Dean. Kill me, or I'm going to kill her. Please. You'd be doing me a favor! Shoot me,” Sam ordered. He turned to you and Dean, arms spread. “Shoot me, (Y/N)! Please!”

You glanced at Jo out of the corner of your eye. “Sam, come on, dude!”

Dean turned away, lowering his gun.

“What’s wrong with you?” Sam spat. “Are you seriously gonna let Jo die?” Sam went to approach his brother, but Dean turned suddenly and flicked holy water at his brother from his flask. The water hissed and steamed when it made contact with Sam’s skin.

“You son of a bitch!” you screamed, rushing at Sam. Sam’s eyes turned black and he threw you off him and into a table behind you. You cried out as your back made contact with the table and chairs, and you collapsed to the floor in a heap. You raised your head to see Sam bursting through a window and Dean cutting Jo free. You got back to your feet painfully and grabbed your gun, sprinting after Sam.

“(Y/N)!” you heard Dean call as you leapt out of the window. He soon caught up to you as you ran down the dock toward a warehouse. You knew that was where Sam— well, the demon— had gone given the swinging of its doors. You and Dean flanked either side of the door before bursting through the warehouse, pressed back to back and scanning the room. You then crouched next to him when you heard wood creak a few yards away.

“So who are you?” Dean called.

“I got lots of names,” Sam replied. His voice was quite far off.

“You've been in Sam since he disappeared, haven't you?” you spat.

“You shoulda seen your face when you thought he murdered that guy. Pathetic,” the demon called back.

“Why didn't you kill us? You had a dozen chances,” Dean replied. He motioned for you to follow him behind a tall stack of boxes to find better cover.

“Nah, that would have been too easy. Where's the fun in that? You see, this was a test. Wanted to see if I could push you or your girlfriend far enough to waste Sam. Should've known you two wouldn't have the sack. Anyway. Fun's over now,” Sam bitterly informed you.

“Well, I hope you got your kicks. 'Cause you're gonna pay hell for this, I'm gonna make sure of that,” Dean growled.

“How? You can't hurt me. Not without hurting your little brother.”

Dean put his gun away, opting for the holy water flask in his jacket. You kept your gun drawn.

“See, I think you're gonna die, Dean. You and every other hunter I can find. One look at Sam's dewey, sensitive eyes? They'll let me right in their door,” the demon laughed. You heard the back door of the warehouse open, and you and Dean quickly followed. When you reached the dock, you barely had time to register Sam standing several feet away with a gun drawn before two shots fired off; one hitting Dean and the other grazing your arm. You tumbled to the dock below from the impact, and you were knocked out cold yet again from the eight-foot drop. 

***

You could just barely make out the conversation happening around you as you began to come-to from the second time you’d been knocked out by Sam. You were lying on something hard with something soft under your head, but you couldn’t quite open your eyes to figure out what was going on.

“Don't be a baby!” you heard Jo say.

“God!” Dean groaned.

You wanted to move to help him, but you still couldn’t open your eyes or move. 

“Almost. Alright, got it. Got it,” Jo announced.

You heard glass clinking before Dean grunted, “God, you’re a butcher. Should’ve let (Y/N) patch me up when she comes-back-to.”

Jo scoffed. “You're welcome.”

“Alright, are we done?”

“Would you give me two minutes to patch you up? You can't help Sam if you're bleeding to death.”

“You should be payin’ more attention to (Y/N). She’s the one out cold with a bleeding head.”

‘Oh. My head’s bleeding?’ you thought. Suddenly, you could feel the blood trickling down your face. You slowly began to recognize the dim light coming from the room around you, and realized you were probably back in the bar you’d found Jo and Sam in.

“So, how did you know? That he was possessed?” Jo asked Dean.

“Uh, ah, I didn't, I just knew that it couldn't have been him.”

Jo paused for a moment, seeming hesitant to speak again. “Hey, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

“I know demons lie, but... do they ever tell the truth, too?”

“Uh, um, yeah, sometimes, I guess. Especially if they know it'll mess with your head.” He paused as you began to writhe around on the floor. “Why do you ask?”

“Nothing. Doesn't matter. So do you have any idea where he's headed to next?”

You groaned, catching Dean’s attention. “Sweetheart?”

Your heart fluttered at the name despite the throbbing in your head, arm, and back. You moaned again, shifting uncomfortably.

When you opened your eyes, Dean was above you. “You there? You okay?"

“Dee,” you smiled groggily.

“Yeah, sweetheart, I’m here.” He slipped a hand under your shoulders and the other under your knees. “C’mon, we gotta go find Sammy.”

“Okay,” you said, still not fully aware of what was going on.

“Wait, Dean, let me—” Jo tried.

“No, I got her,” he responded. He began to carry you toward the door. 

“Where we goin’, then?” Jo asked.

“You're not coming,” he replied simply.

Jo’s voice rose. “The hell I'm not. I'm a part of this now.”

“I can't say it more plain than this. You try to follow us, and I'll tie you right back to that post and leave you here. This is our fight,” he said firmly. “I'm not getting your blood on my hands. That's just how it's gonna be.”

A few moments of silence passed, and Dean began walking again. “I’ll call you later, okay?”

In your heart, you knew he wouldn’t. You’d call Jo and thank her for helping you and Dean. 

You finally had full cognitive function back when Dean got you to the car. He gingerly reached out to your still bleeding head wound. He sucked in air through his teeth. “I’m gonna patch you up, okay?”

You nodded.

He immediately set to work. “Hey, uh—” he paused, seeming to search for what he needed to say, “—what was that… concussion-check-thing you did on me? Back when we dealt with that freaky ass scarecrow?”

You grinned at the memory. “I don’t think you need to check, Dean, I definitely have a concussion,” you said.

“I still wanna see how bad it is,” he told you.

“It’s not awful,” you said. “But I’ll be down for the count for a bit.”

You were suddenly wide awake when you felt hydrogen peroxide hitting your arm where Sam’s bullet grazed you. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmured.

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Yeah, I’m not,” you admitted.

Dean finished patching up the wound on your head, a comfortable silence settling between you. “Thanks for not shooting my brother,” he mumbled.

You snorted. “Yeah, of course.”

He paused again. “Why didn’t you?”

You considered before responding truthfully. “Couldn’t live with myself if I did. Couldn’t live with myself if you hated me.”

He searched your eyes before slowly leaning in to kiss you. You leaned in, too, stretching your neck up to meet his lips. His kiss was gentle and conveyed everything the two of you couldn’t say verbally. 

“Alright, c’mon, we gotta go get Sam,” Dean said. “He’s goin’ to Bobby’s.” ***

“Stay here,” Dean told you. He left the windows rolled down on the Impala to keep some air moving through it while he went into Bobby’s house to confront Sam.

You went to protest, but your aching limbs proved to you that you would be completely useless.

Dean chuckled at you as you wordlessly settled back into your chair. “Atta girl.”

Minutes felt like hours as you waited for Dean to emerge from the house. You knew Bobby was smart enough to figure out Sam was possessed and had likely ensnared him in a Devil’s Trap. Still, that didn’t stop you from worrying about your boys. 

A cool breeze carried Dean’s scream of agony through the car, and you immediately jumped to your feet despite the protesting in your back and head. Your vision nearly whited out when you stood up, and the light of day was too bright for you. Still, you were fueled by the thought of Dean being hurt and stumbled your way into Bobby’s house. When you finally made it inside, Dean and Sam were lying on the floor, each writhing in pain, and Bobby was holding a hot poker.

“I thought I told you to stay in the car, (Y/N),” Dean groaned.

“I thought—” you cut yourself off. “Nevermind.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, kid, but you look like hell,” Bobby told you.

You laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure.” 

Bobby then made you lie down on his couch and you threw your arm over your eyes to block out the light. You heard Sam and Dean patching each other up, and Bobby asked a question that caught your attention. “You kids ever hear of a hunter named Steve Wandell?”

“Why do you ask?” Dean replied.

“Just heard from a friend. Wandell's dead. Murdered in his own house. You wouldn't know anything about that.” You could tell what Bobby was meaning from his tone.

“No, sir, never heard of the guy,” Dean said before Sam could.

“Good,” Bobby stated firmly. “Keep it that way. Wandell's buddies are looking for someone or something to string up, and they're not going to slow down to listen to reason. You understand what I'm saying?”

“We better hit the road,” Dean said. “We should get (Y/N) one of those fancy sleep mask things for her to sleep in the car.”

“How ‘bout just a pair of sunglasses, Dean,” you deadpanned. You could hear Sam chuckling as footsteps approached; you could tell they belonged to the older brother. 

“Here. Take these.” You weren’t sure what Bobby was referring to given you refused to take your hand off your face for even a second.

“What are they?” Sam questioned.

“Charms. They'll fend off possession. That demon's still out there. This'll stop it from getting back up in ya.”

“That sounds vaguely dirty, but uh, thanks.” Dean’s chest rumbled against you as he spoke, and you relaxed into his hold.

“You're welcome. You kids be careful now. And (Y/N), take care of yourself.”

You made a thumbs-up gesture in Bobby’s general direction without uncovering your eyes, earning a chuckle from all three men.

***

You slept most of the drive in the backseat. You were in and out of consciousness and couldn’t quite string together the conversations Sam and Dean were having. However, you paid close attention to their latest interaction.

“I was awake for some of it, Dean,” said Sam. “I watched myself kill Wandell with my own two hands; I saw the light go out in his eyes.”

“That must have been awful,” the older brother replied.

“That's not my point. I almost carved up Jo too. But no matter what I did, you wouldn't shoot. Neither would she,” Sam noted.

“It was the right move, Sam. It wasn't you,” Dean argued.

“Yeah, this time. What about next time?”

“Sam, when Dad told me... that I might have to kill you, it was only if I couldn't save you. Now, if it's the last thing I do, I'm gonna save you.”

You loved how much Dean cared about his little brother.

Dean laughed softly after a moment.

“What?” Sam asked.

“Dude, you— you like, full-on had a girl inside you for like a whole week.” He laughed again, as did Sam. “That's pretty naughty.”

You smiled to yourself as sleep claimed you once more.

***

Somewhere between state lines, you and the Winchesters were stopped to rest at a motel. Thoughts swam in your head as you thumbed the amulet Bobby had given the three of you for protection from future possessions. Suddenly, you slapped lightly against your forehead.

"Guys!" you exclaimed.

Both brothers startled.

"Tattoos!" You stood excitedly.

"Sweetheart, what are you—"

You began to pace around. "I've been tryin' to think of a way to make these amulets more permanent. How 'bout tattoos?"

Sam hesitated, but nodded eventually. "You're a genius. Why didn't I think of that?"

" 'Cause I'm smarter than you." You playfully stuck your tongue out at them.

And so, the three of you set off to find a tattoo parlor. Each of you got the amulet's symbol tattooed on you; the boys on their chests, and you on your hip. Dean was very clearly excited about the placement of the piece.

"Control yourself, please," you scolded while the artist worked.

"Tryin'," Dean replied.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @chervbs @simpingdeadcharacters @nesnejwritings @stillhere197 @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @ohgeehowdigethere @seninjakitey @berarenado @s0urw00lf @princessleahorgana @quarterhorse19 @isla-finke-blog @silverdoragon @karacaroldanvers @gayandfairycore @examishbookwyrm @star-yawnznn @real-sharena-h @fandomloverrr @metalmonki @onlyangel-444 @yu-winchester @benniwiththefanni @daisychaingirl @immagods @missmieux @yoongi-holland @littledebbieinabigworld

[sundew199]

Dad!Reiner Headcanons

Tags: Post-Rumbling, fluff, Reiner x f!reader

a/n: I know this has been done a hundred times but idc

-He wouldn’t have kids until a few years after the rumbling or at least until he feel he is mentally stable enough to be there as a father and partner

- when you tell him your pregnant, he sheds a few tears and holds you the rest of the day/evening

-throughout the pregnancy he’s catering to your every whim. Going to the market for your cravings, rubbing your shoulders, drawing a bath, all of it. You’re carrying his child and he can’t imagine doing anything less

- he’s pretty laid back throughout the first two trimesters, but as soon as the third hits he flips a switch completely

- at this point he attending all your check ins and asking more questions than you at the doctors office, throwing various scenarios at the physician until he feels more at ease than when he arrived.

-he tries not to stress you out by being stressed out himself but every day is getting closer and closer to the arrival of the baby

-going into the labor, Reiner was calm and collected (surprisingly). Guiding you out of the house and letting you squeeze his hand to death on the cab ride there

- it doesn’t matter to him that he could possibly up all night, he’s so excited to meet the baby sleep never crosses his mind.

-through the delivery he was right by your side, holding your hand and encouraging you with the nurses. When the baby was finally delivered he made sure you were 100% ok before he went over to see them

- everyone knows Reiners a girl dad and when he sets his eyes on his daughter for the first time, composure cracks seeing her face. He cried softly next you when you held your daughter for the first time, crouched down by the bed and admiring her .

-when the hospital cleared everyone to go home, his real anxieties set in. She’s so small and everything is a possible ‘threat’ to her safety.

- Reiner almost refuses to cradle her in his arms when carrying her, instead laying her across one side of his chest so her head can rest on his shoulder and he can keep careful hand at the back of her head.

- he gets up with you in the middle of the night, purely because he can’t stand the thought of you doing any part of parenting alone. He knows he can’t do much other than lay there as his daughter nurses, but it beats him getting a good night sleep when you’re beyond tired. (He’s willing choosing to be sleep deprived for you)

- Reiner lovesss holding his daughter, it’s so comforting for him. Whether he’s walking around the house to give you a break or laying in bed with her snuggled onto his chest he loves it.

- between the two of you, he’s the emotional parent. For starters he never thought he’d live to see the day he’d get to have a family of his own and two he’s just so overwhelmed with love and joy for the baby that he gets to call his daughter. He’s gotten choked up when she cries sometimes or whenever she does something cute, doesn’t matter the man is struggling to pull himself together.

- even though Reiner is a gentle by nature and heart, he does not play about his daughter or you. Has told off random people for coming up to you while holding your daughter and touching her head, hands or cheeks, doesn't understand where people get their audacity from.

-still struggles with the trauma from the rumbling and his time as a warrior and gets in his own head when he thinks about his daughter getting older and if he'll be a good enough father to her. its his biggest fear.

-when your daughter can't sleep at night when she's still a baby, Reiner will sometimes walk around with her outside, talk softly to her about whatever comes to mind and pace the backyard until her eyes are droopy

-he'll never pressure you by any means but Reiner wants a big family. Not having siblings of his own, he can't imagine not giving your daughter one or two younger siblings, or three.

-when his daughter is older (toddler) is when you see just how wrapped around her finger he is. Reiner is shameless when it comes to spoiling her, its physically impossible for him to say 'no'

-it's no secret that you and his daughter are what keeps him going so Mother's Day, Your Birthday and your daughter's birthday is a whole ordeal.

-is fully aware his daughter is his mini-me and will gang up on you with her for fun and just to push your buttons.

-is his daughters biggest cheerleader, always encouraging her to do the things she loves and promising to be by her side. He loves seeing her smile and will do anything for it to happen

-raises her to be strong and independent without taking away her girly side. Tells her to always speak up for herself and not take shit from anyone

-he’ll eventually have an army of daughters and possibly one boy depending on how many kids he has, but for the most part he’s extremely outnumbered, but he loves it.

[musubi-sama]

“Classmates”

You are officially Shoko Ieri’s girlfriend, but why are you being followed and gently threatened by two tall, disgustingly handsome men?

CW: afab!reader x shoko ieri, modern au, mild stalking, the boys being intimidating, toys, cunnilingus, shower sex, lady love, mild plot

AN: This is baby’s first fan fic, my first piece of fiction and self-indulgent prose. The world needs more yuri/sapphic/lady stories and I hope I can do it a modicum of justice. I will probably write out the two flashback references as additional chapters once I figure out what I want to do with them.

WC: 4.9k

Next chapter —

“Let’s continue that little thread from last night after classes today?” she responds before pulling away and heading off to the lecture hall. “I’ll make sure to take ‘extra meticulous’ notes for you!” Your girlfriend puts extra emphasis and holds up sassy airquotes (even gives a little sideways nudge with her hip) because she’s notoriously a poor lecture student and you pay attention almost too much and too well, taking notes furiously from your front and center seat.

You give her a cute giggle and wave as she walks away; you’re heading off to meet with your adviser to discuss a research opportunity. While you walk across the quad into the neighboring dining hall to grab your usual Starbucks order (iced caramel machiatto).

Meanwhile, a pair of tall, offensively handsome men doing what would otherwise be a scene from a spy movie, fold the top half of a newspaper down and watch you and Shoko embrace and go your separate ways.

“Suguru, who the hell was that talking to Sho?” the white-haired, ethereally blue eyed man says a bit too loudly to his dark-haired, enigmatically purple eyed friend. The pair sit on the bench gawking, although the dark haired man winces at the volume of his friend.

“You’re going to give us away, shush, Satoru! I don’t know who she is or what that was about but let’s follow her” Suguru gets up and beckons in your general direction “and see where she goes” Satoru gets up and they both follow you at a safe distance, catching up with you as you are waiting for your order at Starbucks. Satoru perks up and nudges Suguru in the side with a cheeky smile when he hears the barista announce your order. “She can’t be that bad, she’s got a sweet tooth!”

“Let’s see where she goes from here.” Suguru pinches his chin as he watches you from across the cafe. You navigate around a few tables to reach the exit and head off to your meeting. While waiting for the elevator to the fifth floor, you catch a flash of messy-but-styled white hair from around the corner, but chalk it up to sleep deprivation and stress.

You make it to your adviser and he walks you through a few research opportunities, but the drawback is that you will need to take a year between finishing your primary in-classroom education and your clinical rotations. And the one that you like the most is across the country. Great timing, just after you finally get a girlfriend and think you may have your little life settled into a comfortable routine. Maybe you wait a few weeks to discuss this with Shoko. But maybe she would want you to bring it up sooner, it’s not like you haven’t known her for four years already. The responsible partner would talk about it soon. But you’ve never been too keen on bringing up tough subjects in a reasonable or quick manner, opting to mull quietly, by yourself, not wanting to bother other people or respond to negative feedback.

As you’re arguing with yourself, you take the elevator back down the ground floor and head outside to hole up in the library until Shoko is out of the morning’s lectures.

Except you don’t notice the two tall handsome boys following you from the lobby across the quad. They take notice of your internal conflicts written across your face and lack of spatial awareness to surround you and you bump into a dense, immovable statue. Fortunately for you, it’s not an actual statue, but a person, so there is a softness in the knock and a pair of arms quickly wrap around you to make sure you don’t fall. Two sets of arms, actually.

“Ah, Iamsosorry” You attempt to stammer out as you are brought out of your internal arguments. You look up to see long, feathered jet-black hair, reaching past the shoulders, but pulled partially up into a bun. Face framed by bangs hanging on one side. Piercing, focused, concerned violet eyes, and a soft smile. Your first impression is that he is cat-like. He catches you off-guard but you feel safe. As you step back to give him space and continue to your destination, your back bumps into an equally statuesque figure. But he’s the polar opposite when you tilt your head back and look up at him. A shock of white hair, dark round sunglasses, giant smile bearing all his teeth, ocean blue eyes piercing you. It’s unsettling how it feels like he’s reading every thought you’re having right now, in the past, and the future. “Oh, excuse me…” you mumble but it just trails off.

“Oh hello there.” Suguru places his hands on your shoulders to steady you. It feels nice, reassuring, considering you just knocked around some coastal rocks. “My name is Suguru Geto and this is Satoru Gojo. We just happened to see you walking across campus and you seemed distracted. Wouldn’t want you walking into anyone and causing a disturbance. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Yeah, what’s a girl like you doing so distracted?” You’re caught off guard by the brazen question. And confused by the implications. What kind of girl do they think you are?

“Sorry, I really just want to go to the library. I’m meeting my girlfriend soon.” You try to side-step the pair and they move in tandem to block your path. Ah, you start to feel the familiar anxiety of being pestered by someone who can’t understand that ‘no’ is a full and complete statement. What you fail to notice, is the shock that zipped through the boys’ expressions.

“I am sorry for the brashness of my companion” Suguru tilts his head up to give Satoru a piercing stare before his gaze softens again and he looks back at you. You feel as if you’re the only person in the entire world as he looks down. Completely taken by his gaze, feeling his arms re-settle on your forearms for a moment before dropping to his sides, giving you space with the lack of physical touch. “But we saw you with a friend of ours and we were just concerned for her. She always introduces anyone beyond a mere acquaintance to us, and we are only looking out for her best interests.” Satoru uses this opportunity to step around to your front, hands in his pockets. Although he still has a mischievous grin on his face.

“Er, what? I am sure that any one I am friends with surely doesn’t require a white knight or dark stallion to protect her honor.” You attempt to cut the conversation short.

“You’re right. You’re absolutely correct, dear. How about we get to know you over dinner? Our treat for being so forward. Tomorrow, pick you up at 7:00? I know a place that does great bananas foster with homemade caramel” Satoru winks, and you realize you’re still holding your coffee. You’re clutching it now, hoping he didn’t see that you asked for extra caramel drizzle in your coffee today. You’re a people pleaser, so you just quickly agree to the plans. You ask for their LineID and as you’re walking away, you get two messages immediately:

Can’t wait to see you, sweets! Looking forward to dinner and getting to know you.

Finally making it to the library, feeling buzzed, and not from the sugar or caffeine. But you manage to find some shred of focus for the next two hours. Your phone buzzes and you start to pack up your books and laptop. You respond to Shoko’s message that she’s out of class and heading to the dining hall with a quick “Yay, save me a seat!” message even though you know you don’t have to ask.

“How was the Pharmacology lecture?” You ask, while attempting to unhinge your jaw around a particularly ambitious forkful of salad. Your girlfriend just smiles at you over her soup.

“Hm, well you know how engaging Dr. Smith is at his age. I made sure to get an audio recording of the lectures and of course the slide notes include the markups from in-class.”

“Aww, thank you! You’re the best.”

Shoko gives you a fond smile as you both settle back into eating lunch. You continue chatting about classes, you feel confident over your polite dodging of any real answer to how your adviser meeting went “Ah, well, I am waiting for him to email me with some details on a couple research opportunities.” Shoko seems satisfied, or at least doesn’t have any follow up questions to your response. You don’t feel comfortable about lying to your best friend, your girlfriend, but you didn’t really tell her lies. Just, not the whole truth. You’ll tell her, soon. You promised yourself. That was the decision you had settled on right as you bumped into-

“Hey, I wanted to talk to you about something. I have two friends I’ve known since forever and I want to introduce you to them. I have kept you from them until now because they can be somewhat, very, incredibly, protective of me and intrusive to anyone who gets close. But they are good people, even if I have to kick their asses when they pull their little “baby Shoko” stunts.” Shoko puts her hands on yours and looks straight at you, although struggles to keep eye contact when she mentions her friends’ not-so-kind traits.

You consider her question and do not want to respond too quickly or eagerly, but you have wanted to build some new relationships before your life gets too much more hectic with clerkships, graduation, and intern year on the horizon. And if these new friends are already friends with Shoko, then it’s even easier because you would want any new friends to be comfortable with both of you. You may only be newly dating, but you’ve already fallen for Shoko quite hard and want to settle down. Or something like that? You haven’t taken a breath to really figure your brain out.

“Oh, well, why don’t we get drinks and see how things go? I like the idea of making new friends, let’s give it a try!” You try to hold back your over-eagerness, but you let slip big excited eyes and slotting your fingers into Shoko’s hands and squeezing. A small squeal may have also escaped your lips, you’re bad a poker. And Shoko loves it. She gives you a soft smile, leans over to drop a peck on your cheek. The rest of lunch passes with easy conversation. You head off to your afternoon lectures and study sessions together.

After classes finished, you both headed back to Shoko’s apartment. Even before you started dating, you spent most of your free time at her place. It was closer, bigger, quieter, and nicer than your apartment. You grab a pair of beers from the fridge after you finished cleaning up from dinner and walk over to the couch. Shoko turned on Netflix and started the nightly ritual of scrolling new and recently updated shows to see what caught either of your interests before settling on one of the six shows you’re already in the middle of watching. You sit sideways and hand over one of the beers, laying your legs across your girlfriend’s lap. She settles on watching the next episode of your shared guilty pleasure, Doctor X. During the opening credits, your phone buzzes several times with messages on Line.

“Ugh, what is it now? I should’ve left it in the bedroom” you grumble as you lean over to the table and pick up your phone that has now buzzed four times. You see a newly familiar name pop up and scowl.

“What’s wrong, love?” Shoko perks up and looks over to you as you start to read the messages, more coming in while you’re reading.

“I literally ran into a pair of criminally attractive guys. Boys, really. They did that High School-Hollywood thing of boxing me in, making me look up, and then not taking no for an answer. I agreed to get dinner with them tomorrow just so they’d leave me alone and go away.” You flash her the phone with the messages. Her usually subtle expression shifted much more dramatically when she saw who you were talking about.

“Wait. You ran into, literally? Gojo and Geto? Tall, one with white hair sticking up in stupid directions and acting with way too much bravado, the other with big ear gauges and an air of incredible self-confidence? Today? Where? When?” She stops her idle massaging of your legs and turns towards you, taking your phone to read more carefully what they had sent:

Heyyyyyy. Wear something cute? Do you like Mediterranean? :)

“Yyyyeah that matches the pair. Why, do you know them? Have they bothered you on campus before?”

Shoko snickers softly. “You could say that. Remember the pair of friends I wanted you to meet? Looks like they found you first.”

“Oh.” You look down at your hands for a moment and then suddenly you remember what Suguru said to you “we saw you with a friend of ours and we were just concerned for her…” “Oh, wait a second. You’re the friend they were talking about!” And you relay the conversation you had with Suguru and Satoru to Shoko who just shakes her head and sucks her teeth.

“Yeah, those bastards. I told them to wait till this weekend, I had news for them and someone to meet. But they just HAD to get impatient.”

“I will call off dinner! Can I have my phone back, please?” you reach out your hand to begin composing a polite response to the nuisance pair.

“No, don’t. Just have them come over first. And then they can take BOTH of us to dinner.”

As soon as you send off your address, you put your phone down. Shoko’s ministrations on your legs intensifies subtly, but clearly with an agenda. You lean back against the arm of the couch as Shoko slowly massages her hands up your legs, focusing on the softer flesh on the insides of your thighs. You part your legs for her slightly as she gets closer to your clothed core.

The days have been long and you’ve hardly had time for yourself or your relationship since you’ve put official titles on it. You shift yourself so you’re now straddling Shoko. You reach your hands around her neck, threading your hands under her long, wheat-colored brown hair. When you met her, her hair was only touching her shoulders, but now it’s reaching far down her back. Her lips are so soft and inviting, a gentle sheen of spit covering them. Your eyes rake over her face, taking in every facial micromovement. You admire her lone freckle below her eye, something you’ve always found cute.

You lean in, lips parting slightly as her eyes glance up at you, pupils darkening in desire. As your tongues slipped past each other, they danced delicately but with increasing urgency as your lips press harder and Shoko takes a brief opening to nip at your lower lip, drawing out a soft moan from you. Your hands hold her neck tighter, one slipping up through her hair, giving it a light tug. Her hands start sliding back in between your legs, the side of her pinky finger lightly grazing your center which elicits a small grind from you. As your kiss slowly turns more frantic, trading breaks for air with trails of urgency on each others jawline, Shoko reaches under your shirt to gently wrap her hands under your voluminous tits. Still seated in a soft bralette, your nipples begin to harden as her hands slowly squeeze and make their way into the bralette and find your nipples with a soft squeeze.

You drop your hands to your sides and toss your head back at the sharp, but pleasurable sensations and start to roll your hips in Shoko’s lap, looking for some friction and relief for the growing tension. You whimper as the pinching and squeezing intensifies, tilting your head back up and you are met with eyes filled with pure lust. “I told you I wanted to continue from last night” Shoko growls. You just respond with a low moan. Shoko then uses her forearms to slide your shirt up and over your head, taking your bralette with it.

Now, your fully exposed chest and abdomen, your nipples clearly taut in response to the pleasure being shown to them. Shoko then leans down to one, taking it in her mouth with a light suck. Keeping her hand squeezing the other, she lightly bites down, rolling the puckered nipple in her teeth, sliding her slick tongue across. She releases it with a pop, letting it and your breast drop and give a little lewd jiggle. She repeats the process on your other nipple. You are still wantonly grinding your hips in her lap, keening against her touch.

As your body continues to relax, your brain slowly shutting off the noise and entering that cozy, listful, lustful subspace headspace, your hands claw at your girlfriends’ shirt and pull it off of her during a brief moment when her lips aren’t attached to your body. The moment her skin is exposed, you bring yourself vertical and then over, pressing your breasts into hers, enjoying the soft and supple squeezes from your body weight onto Shoko. You reach in to grasp the sides of your shared mass of tits, squeezing and pushing them together.

You are in a daze, skin on fire, as you are drunk from your beer and the lust spreading through your veins. You always knew you were bisexual, although you couldn’t put a fine point on it until you met Shoko while at your lab’s new grad student orientation 3 and a half years ago. You moved across the country for grad school, knowing you’d need to start over again and find new (local) friends. You were taking in the space when you turned around and saw Shoko Ieri walk in the room, immediately disorienting you and a sudden warmth spreading into your center. You couldn’t look her in the eye for the entire first month.

“What do you want to do tonight?” Shoko brings you out of your daze as she wraps her hand around the back of your neck. “Want to start with that new toy I picked up recently?”

“O-oh, yeah, I haven’t tried something like that before!” You start to untangle yourself from Shoko and roll off the couch. You’re chased by Shoko into the bedroom as she reaches out to pinch at your sweatpants-covered ass, you making sure she can still catch you. There’s fun in the chase, but so is there in getting caught. You leap at the bed, spin around and sit on your legs patiently while Shoko disappears into her closet. She returns quickly, now in nothing but a lace thong and brandishing a modest, slightly curved silicone dildo in her hands, twirling her hair with her other hand. You bounce a bit in anticipation, soft tits still jiggling as you stop moving. You move to remove your sweatpants, but are cut off.

“Ah ah ah, hands off. Why are you trying to deny me the fun? I said we are going to continue from yesterday. Which means it’s my turn to return the favor.”

“We don’t need to keep a running tally for equitability sake!” you whine, sticking your lip out in an over-exaggerated pout.

“You’re right, but since this is celebrating us putting some structure and a title to” she waves her hand between the two of you “this, I want to finish what you started. Now, lay back, please.” You settle on the duvet, heart racing, feeling giddy. Last night you off-handedly said ‘I love you’ over dinner at home. It came out of nowhere, but you were just chatting and catching up from the day over a bowl of spaghetti, and it just fell out of your mouth while Shoko nearly choked mid-slurp.

Shoko sets the toy down on the bed and climbs up the bed, caging you in. As she reaches your middle, she sits back on her heels and tugs at your pants. She loved how you always returned to your own apartment or hers and would immediately change into comfortable room wear, shedding the stuffy denim and wired bras for soft cottons and gentle elastics. Pulling your hair back to keep it out of your face, it certainly made easier to grab in the heat of sex and teasing. After she removed your pants and panties, reveling at your exposed frame, Shoko admired your neatly trimmed hair framing your glistening pussy. “Mine.”

Soft kisses with small nibbles sprinkled in begin to chase up the inside of your legs, feet planted on the bed. As the kisses intensify, your knees fall further apart. Your hands come up to your hair as you lace your fingers through to ground yourself. Gently, two fingers spread your folds open and you let out a small gasp. “Mmm I just love to tease your pussy.” One slender finger slides in, your soft walls pulling it in deeper until your girlfriend’s middle finger is sheathed up to the knuckle. She flips her palm upwards and curls the finger inside of you while bringing her thumb to rest on your hardening clitoris. Your hips begin to buck at the movements, moans increasing. Slowly sliding her finger out, pressure still on your clit, Shoko adds a second finger and begins to rub circles with her thumb and thrusting her fingers in and out. She looks up from her ministrations to watch your face go through a million small emotions in pleasure. “That’s it, love. Let me hear you, don’t hold back.” You unwind on her hand, fluttering around her fingers, riding out your high with loud moans and grinding hips.

As you come back down, Shoko reaches over to the toy, aligning the flat, angled tip with your hole, pulling out her fingers. “Ready?” she whispers, but with an edge of gravel on her voice. She also grabs a small remote that you didn’t initially see and reaches up to place it in your hands. “I also got a treat for you. Feel free to press the buttons as you want and see what happens”

Slowly, Shoko presses the toy into your soaked pussy, as the tip disappears in, she turns it on to the lowest vibration setting. You give a sharp inhale as you push your head back further into the pillows. You recollect yourself as the toy makes its way further into you, and bring your hand up to see what this remote is. Just two buttons, marked by a plus and minus sign. You touch the plus button and suddenly a sultry and surprised “Ahhh mmmmm” Shoko whines from between your legs. Her progress to slide in the toy momentarily halted as she adjusted to the vibrating inside of her. She regains composure as she seats the toy fully inside you and rotates it around until you slam your eyes shut and cry out in pure pleasure. “Ah ha, found it. So hot.” Shoko bought a g-spot vibrator and adjusted it till she found the right spot inside of you.

Squirming somewhat, Shoko slowly moves the vibrator around, placing her free hand on your abdomen with pressure against you. Your hips begin to gyrate and roll with increased intensity every time the head of the toy makes contact with the spongy sensitive bundle of nerves inside your walls. “Sho—Shooookoooo ple- FUCK please~” you preen and attempt to stammer out some words. You increase the intensity on the remote.

“Ye-s, l-ove? You’re doing so, so, hnf, well, better than the fantasies I had all day of this- of this mooooment.” Shoko showers you with praise, stuttered by her own building pleasure, knowing exactly what is to come next.

“Ahhh, Sho—Shoko, I’m-com-” You attempt to tell her what you’re feeling as the pressure in your abdomen has reached a fever pitch, ready to incinerate you at the lightest touch. Shoko steadies the vibrator right on the nerves and brings her thumb up to apply pressure to your clit and lowers her body to get closer to your core. “Give it all to me.” At that moment you scream obscenities as your body releases the built-up pressure and you squirt directly into Shoko’s waiting mouth. Helping you ride out your pleasure pushed Shoko over the edge, too, as she rolls her hips along with the waves of her own orgasm. As your body begins to slow it’s movements, she turns off the vibrator and removes it from you. She also reaches down to her own bullet vibrator and removes it, still shaking as you’re too high on your own pleasure to find the remote.

Shoko sits up and wipes your slick from her face, reaching a hand up to you to clean off. “Good girl.” You whimper at the affirmation, pulling on her wrist to bring her up to you, her body draped on yours. When you finish lapping up the wetness on her hand, you twist your head over and your mouths meet in lazy but passionate kissing. Tongues lazily exploring each other, gratitude shared between the two of you.

“Shower?” You nod, slowly rolling yourself over, legs finding the ground albeit a bit shakily. Shoko steps out ahead, sliding into the en suite ahead of you to warm up the shower and grab towels. You stand in front of the mirror admiring your body, re-adjusting your hair and pulling the strays that have fallen out back up. You step in to the shower, bottoms of your feet chilled on the hard tile floor, but skin warmed by the scaldingly hot shower.

“Ahhhh, perfect” You reach out to rest your hands on Shoko’s waist as you both take a moment to relax in the warmth of each other and the water.

“Yeah, you are, love.” You giggle at the admiration. Shoko’s hands come up to gently massage your breasts, lightly pinching your nipples. She closes the gap between you and nudges her leg in between yours, rubbing her thigh against your sensitive folds. You let out a soft moan, feeling sensitive and on-edge already, after just a moment. “I’m not done with you yet.”

You continue to grind on her thigh as she holds pressure against your heat. Your hands slide up to Shoko’s chin, cupping her face and you dive in for a kiss. Your lips are urgent and needy as you moan into her mouth, biting her lips with every wave of building pressure. After several minutes, Shoko breaks the kiss, pulling away and you whine as her leg also pulls back. She begins kissing down the column of your neck, down the center of your clevage, past your navel, sinking to her knees to worship at your altar.

Wordlessly, Shoko nudges your legs further apart, guiding you so you are now leaning against the cold wall of the shower. Placing her hands on the front of your thighs, she slides them up to your folds and with her thumbs, spreads your pussy open, exposing your wet core to the warm shower air. She leans in to take a soft lick, savoring the first taste. You lean back on the wall for support, hands threading through Shoko’s hair.

“God you taste amazing. I can’t get enough of you.” Shoko uses her nose to rub against your oversensitive clit, reaching her tongue inside your sensitive cunt, applying light suction as she goes. Drinking up every drop your body offers, you can feel her moans reaching deep within you. Moving between deep licks inside your pussy to abusing your clit with the tip and flat of her tongue, you can feel the coil again twisting inside of you. With your moans completely unrestrained, you use your grip on her head to keep her pinned against your center.

“Baby, love, god” Shoko praises you at each short breath she takes. You don’t even have a moment to tell her as suddenly the coil snaps and you silently scream as she eagerly accepts the orgasm she pulled from your body. Her hands wrapping around your hips, holding you close as you buck against her touch. Once you have stopped moving so harshly, she stands up and your lips crash together one more time, you licking your wetness off her face, her embracing and holding you.

“I’ve never felt so relaxed with someone, Sho. You’re my best friend, my love, I can’t see a future without you.” Your mouth is moving faster than your brain, letting your admissions tumble out. A common occurrence for you recently. Shoko just smiles and you wash each other clean, taking time to massage tender areas, and scrub the rough ones. After you step out of the shower, you both go through your nightly skin care and pre-bed routines. Passing products between each other, prepping and moving as one practiced unit.

Now laying in bed, you are in the crook of your girlfriends’ arm while you both scroll on your phones. Eventually putting them down and rolling into a more comfortable sleeping position (as cute as cuddling is, you both know that it’s not comfortable for sleeping all night. No one likes numb limbs!). You both drift off to sleep, feeling happy and content with each other.

[lefty-scribes]

sunflower

Summary: After coming home late from a stressful day at work, Spencer needs nothing more than to be in your arms in order to feel like himself again. You offer your touch to him in more ways than one.

or

melodramatic handjob :>

Word Count: 3423

Songs: ‘cry’ by cigarettes after sex may fit !!

Pairing: softdomme!reader x sub!spencer

Warnings: smut (18+ please), choking (m receiving), spencer cries xoxo, fully consensual but his reactions are described as ‘involuntary’ sometimes, sudden tense switch at the end bc it felt right idk, 65% buildup, 15% action, 20% orgasm LOL

a/n: guys the transition from comfort to seggsy just happened out of nowhere and the pacing is aggressively slow, prob making this hard to get off to. i’m sorry. also if you don’t think you should be reading this (🔞) you’re probably right ?? but please don’t tell me about it. do comment anything else though if you're feeling up to it :3

With a twist of his hand on the doorknob and a step through the door, Spencer took his long awaited whiff of home. It smelled of cedarwood and floral candles and you, and the tension released from his shoulders completely for the first time today.

He walked straight to the bedroom where he knew you’d still be up waiting for him, door open with a lit bedside light to welcome him despite his insistence that your sleep is more important. The urge didn’t even come up to wash his hands, disinfect his phone, or sanitize his work bag, being replaced instead by his desire to be in your presence.

As he’d suspected, there you were, sitting up on the bed you shared, eyes fighting to stay open as they flitted through the pages of a book. The comforter covered your legs, and only a thin sleep shirt separated your back from the headboard you leaned against, the shape of your nipples hardly poking through. Spencer hesitated to walk in and ruin the pretty picture.

When you noticed him, a fond smile grew on your face and you dropped your book to open your arms wide for him. He slowly walked over to you, stomach twisting just a little at the fear of being a bother, and started to position himself as he did whenever he needed a bit of extra comfort. He gave you a quick peck and settled down so his head rested on your lap, lying down on his side with his arm hugging your bare thighs. His long frame curled sideways by your legs under the blanket. He said nothing when you combed your fingers through his hair—just held you a bit tighter; nuzzled his cheek impossibly closer.

You broke the silence, absentmindedly separating small locks of his hair now with your fingers. “Want to talk about it?” you asked, to which he shook his head, movement still restricted by your thighs on his cheek, hating that he didn’t have more to say. Hated to have to make you pry just to hear about his day, but all the more in awe of how attuned you were to his emotions—even more than he was sometimes. Hated being moody and uncommunicative, but his brain was betraying him.

Your thumb now stroked his eyebrow, smoothing it out. Every part of him that your fingers touched relaxed in its wake, coupled with the scent of your lotion and laundry into his breaths. He finally spoke up, voice slightly muddled from his cheek against your leg; perhaps he sounded like his handwriting would sound, though he hoped he was more understandable than that.

“Per hour of sleep we lose, human blood pressure tends to increase by 3 to 5 millimeters of mercury, so you waiting up for me this late probably already caused an increase of 10 mmHg. Cortisol levels can also increase by up to 80% when sleep deprived, and your reaction time can slow by up to 500 milliseconds, which will make it more unsafe for you to drive tomorrow.” I appreciate you so much, baby, but you shouldn’t have waited up, is what he wanted to say. It never came out that way. I love when you greet me. Don’t put your health at risk for me. I’m sorry I’m late. But it always came out instead as numbers and statistics because that’s all he knows how to do, and it’s the only way his voice knows how to love, but you get it. He wants to add more.

You get him. “Stop worrying, Spence. I need to see you just as much as you need to see me. Can’t sleep otherwise,” you assured him. Goosebumps rose on his skin as you rubbed slow, pressured circles onto his forehead, massaging him properly now. Maybe your words were supposed to make him feel better, but he couldn’t shake the guilt in his gut. His burden complex weighed heavier today.

“My Spencer,” you breathed. Heat rose onto his cheeks. Your Spencer. “What do you need from me?”

He laid still on your lap, face now turned upward to memorize your own, pondering on the question. Always too scared to ask, though he knew what he needed. “Anything you’ll give me,” he whispered.

Now freshly dried from his shower, Spencer walked toward where you stayed sitting on the bed just as you had been when he arrived. He stood completely bare before you, an unlikely mix of both self-consciousness and pride filling him as you looked him up and down. The implied power imbalance of your clothed decency juxtaposed with his nude vulnerability has just occurred to him; he felt a rush in his stomach.

You pulled the covers off and spread your legs apart, then patted the space in between. Spencer crawled onto the bed as carefully as he could, trying not to shake it too much, now unsure of how long he could last. He found a seat between your thighs, the outer edge of his legs lining the inner side of your own, his back flush against your torso.

Goosebumps rose on his skin when your hands trailed up his neck, grazing his ears, then his cheekbones, to comb themselves through his soft hair. He shivered, just once. His mouth parted slightly in a shaky exhale and his head lolled back toward you, as a cat would, until it rested gently on your shoulder, full trust in you to support him. His eyelashes fluttered to a close as you slowly but firmly squeezed your fingers into a closed fist against his scalp, hair tangled within your grasp, letting the leverage of your palms against his head do the tugging. Despite the tightness of the skin around his temples, his facial muscles only continued to relax as he silently handed you all control of him. He released a shallow gasp as you gave your wrists a slow twist before releasing his hair entirely.

You slid your fingers down to his nipples, running your thumbs over them each for not long enough. He let out a sigh that must’ve released more air than his lungs had the capacity to carry in the first place. The stresses of the day began to leave with it, Spencer being overcome instead by the relief of being back in the comfort of his own home—in the arms of his beloved. Your hand was cool against his humid skin, raising goosebumps in its wake. Ears ringing, he hardly heard his own voice releasing a shaky, dragged out, sh— shhhit, between gritted teeth.

Your hands trailed down even further toward his soft stomach which was scrunched into a bean-like mound from his position against you, grazing down his happy trail before ignoring his painful erection and inching toward his thighs instead. Your nails dragged gently over his inner thighs and he pried them open for you; all for you.

He whined under his breath and his legs flexed under your touch, only the duration of a single twitch, lifting his hips up subconsciously to contact your hands where he needed them most. You gently pushed him back down, wordlessly insisting on giving attention to his soft thighs, asserting that it was your pace being followed. And he couldn’t object. He didn’t want to. Always so patient with him, he longed for you to be proud of his obedience. His thighs were yours to touch, after all, and so was what rested now painfully hard between them.

His head still laying against your shoulder, you gently swiped your tongue against his ear lobe, getting his attention. You whispered to him, and he was so receptive to you. “Do you think you’re ready?”

He didn’t need to see it to know, but he glanced down anyway, his cheeks burning up to a colour he imagined matched his throbbing penis. He ached to be touched there, swallowing at the thought.

He hummed lazily in response, already lightheaded from the rush in his head. He tilted his head in slow roll to place clumsy kisses all over your face, whatever part of it he could reach, nodding continuously to please touch me, I’m ready. He thought his lips had caught your nose, cheekbones, ear, jaw… but at that point he’d already been intoxicated by your touch and couldn’t tell the difference; only wanted to taste the saltiness of your supple skin.

“Words, Spence.” With his head still turned to you, you caught his bottom lip between your teeth and nipped at it until it puffed up, drawing a light whimper from him. He arched his neck sideways to grant you access to the rest of him that your lips and teeth could reach. More of him now exposed to you, he quietly pleaded as you lightly sucked on sensitive points behind his jaw. A lone tear slipped out of his eye closest to you, and you lapped it up as it hung from his jaw.

“Ready. Always ready for you,” he choked, voice already hoarse. Your ability to take him to the clouds far before touching the most sensitive part of him only turned him on further, as well as the nurturing and patient but complete control you exerted. He was undeserving and yet eternally grateful. Swore to himself he’d spend the rest of his days trying to love you as completely as you did him.

Upon squeezing out some lubricant from the bottle in your bedside drawer, you grasped his erection in your slick hand, your other hand exploring the rest of his body, and he gasped with an unintentional jolt. From this position you two were in, it allowed the ridges of your curled palm and fingers, as well as the coolness of your wedding ring, to make full contact with the sensitive vein along the underside of his cock.

You played him like an instrument, and the sounds he made proved nothing less. You’d glide your sharp knuckles over him, barely making contact with him, much to his protest; your hand would run along the thin, elastic stretch of skin connecting his head to the underside of his cock. Or you’d bunch your delicate fingertips together at his tip, letting the widening of his cock separate them as you pushed down toward his balls. He almost wished, as the pads of your fingers trailed his length, that your fingerprints could be ingrained in his skin, if only to be claimed by you even more. His breaths grew laboured and he slowly lost the shame in his whimpers.

Your other hand moved to his lips, muffling his sounds slightly. Your breath tickled his ears, and he threw an arm back to grasp your hair or neck or whatever he could grab, trying fruitlessly to get closer for you to ground him.

He whined helplessly against your now vibrating hand, though it did nothing to quiet his volume as you so creatively played with his cock, fidgeting with him and using him like nothing. Tension was prominent between his eyebrows sewn together, and surely his forehead carried a few creases as well.

You gently ran your thumb against his bottom lip, and he instinctively pulled it into his mouth. Your thumb pushed degradingly against the inside of his cheek, forcing his mouth to open slightly. His tongue circled your thumb out of habit, and the slightest bit of spit dribbled out the corner of his lips.

The room started to smell and feel like sweat, though he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was experiencing everything and nothing all at once, sensations heightened yet brain numbed. Rare were the occasions that he couldn’t explain everything, and the times where he couldn’t think straight, but he revelled in it. Nowhere else was Spencer able to be completely defenseless and equally safe but in your arms—or hands, in this case. His guard wholeheartedly down, he cherished the privilege of being worriless and thoughtless.

His brain’s unusual absence of words and knowledge—two things which he so dutifully guarded just to feel competent—was welcomed because you were around to protect his vulnerability in the meantime.

By now, from the sweat or his own sheer lack of control, Spencer had slid down slightly so his shoulder blades were flush with your breasts; your hard nipples pressed against him through the soft silk of your nightshirt and it reminded him how eager he was to return the favour. He was leaning back a bit more, hardly noticing the ache from his weight resting on his tailbone.

The position gave you access to move your working hand even lower, gentle fingers starting to toy with his balls before moving down toward the sensitive patch of skin right beneath. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth when you hit it, hums and groans gradually increasing in pitch. Against his own will, he clenched around nothing, causing his perineum to shift against your fingers. He choked out another embarrassingly loud sound, mouth shamelessly open now, and then did it again.

You kissed his jaw. “How do you feel?” you whispered. You gave more attention to the pink head now, fingers tickling his smooth tip, thumb pressing down periodically on the ridges. Your other hand played with hair.

“You treat me so well,” he breathed, as earnestly as he could, turning his head to give a sloppy kiss to your wrist, drunk on your touch, your warmth, and you. “Love you so much,"—he swallowed—"ah— oh, f— fuck— Love what you do to me.”

“You deserve it all.”

His moans got more high pitched as you worked, and his breaths came in faster than his chest could keep up with. His hands grasped at your thighs to steady himself, blunt nails digging in.

“My Spencer baby, you look oh so beautiful,” you praised, voice dripping in sheer adoration. His eyes drew open and his gaze rolled back, then lazily toward you. Another tear slowly escaped the corner of his eye, and he wished he weren’t tearing up if only to see your pretty face more clearly. His eyebrows were still tense under the nearness of his undoing, tilted in a pleading pout.

“Please, please-please-please-please-plea— mmngh…” He pleaded and begged for release, no longer making sense of what was coming out of his mouth, eyes ever-downturned and watering once again.

He was helplessly putty in your hands, his body no longer his own, but rather a shell of just euphoria and feeling. He was floating and completely at your mercy, just as he loves to be.

“I love you, please, I—” His sentences grew choppy and more and more incoherent, his speech being mixed with unintelligible throaty noises. His chest rose and fell significantly faster than it had earlier, lips hardly separating as he mumbled a yesyesyesyes keep going yes just like that please, and his hips thrusted up to move his length further into your hand.

His desperate hands sought purchase from whatever they could grab, now tightly squeezing and scratching at your thighs. He readjusted his sweat-slicked palms as they slipped down your skin.

Your hand in his hair slid down roughly to grab his jaw in utter possessiveness, twisting it up toward you to plant a sloppy kiss on his lips. He did the best he could to return it. “Go ahead, baby,” you mumbled against his mouth.

He whimpered into the kiss, with no more capacity to spare you an audible ‘thank you’ as usual. You squeezed your working hand just the slightest bit tighter around his cock, working your way back up to his ever-sensitive pink head.

“Shitshitshitshit, fuck, oh, God. I’m so close, I’m so close, I’m so—ah—” How naughty he felt. Maybe you’d tease him later about the junk coming out of his mouth, flustering him with the thought of what the neighbours would think. But as a sunflower proved its affinity to the sun and its warmth, all he could do now was gaze at you mindlessly, his neck aching at the effort. Under the dim yellow lamp lighting up the room, he embodied the sunflower’s golden glow. Its face would follow the bright star by nature and so would Spencer's, happily compelled by some force of nature to show you his authentic self as he held on so close to his orgasm. You smiled at him.

The bed squeaked under his shaking legs. Lone tears made their way down his face, free-falling now, and he made no move to wipe them. As he neared his peak, you kept your hand on his cock, hand wrapped snugly around his tip, angling it toward his chest.

You grabbed his throat with the other, fingers squeezing inward toward the two valleys around his neck that carried his precious arteries, and he felt the first spurt of cum burst through with a loud wail of surprise.

“Baby—“ he tried breathlessly, eyes still attempting to meet yours to please understand what I’m saying, please be proud of me, “baby, I’m coming, I’m fucking coming, I’m…” His muscles spasmed and sharply leaned him forward, causing your hand to obstruct his throat just a bit more, and he was thankful for it if only to ground his shaking to a minimum.

His head was pounding and his vision grew spotty as he basked in the feeling of his life, and his penis, in your hands, and the purpose with which you handled him as he prayed for this state of euphoria to not simply kill him. Though that wouldn’t be a terrible way to go.

He fought the urge to squeeze his eyes shut, yet still saw only white. He was burning up and held no sense of himself as his muscles twitched in waves, knees buckling, though you were there to hold him through it all. His mouth opened in a silent scream as you continued moving your hand along his sensitive length.

His panting gradually became less breathy and more audible, now backed by a throaty groan with every breath he released. Your name became the only thought in his mind, and he let it shakily slip out of his mouth, not caring how absolutely brainless he sounded. With each spurt of his release onto his chest, each involuntary clenching and thrust of his hips, he repeated it. Whether a cry of pleading, gratitude, or adoration, he wasn’t certain—but it all centred around you.

You talked him through the final stages of his orgasm with gentle murmurs of praise, pushing his hips down to forcefully guide him through it. Good boy, Spencer. Keep going. I’m right here. You got it. You’re doing great. Almost done. I love you. You’re so safe here. Your ministrations on his sensitive penis didn’t slow as you patiently waited for him, though he had to rest his hand on your wrist to slow you down, eyes finally falling closed; you obliged. His body offered you one final tremor of overwhelming pleasure.

The horrors of the day seemed to have been released with his release. But with the way you were now atop him, cleaning up the mess on his chest with your tongue, then crawling back up to his own mouth to offer him a taste, he felt his once-against stiffening cock asking for more where that came from. His aftercare be damned. No longer overwhelmed by his need for solace, this new rise of arousal was geared toward you—thanking you, loving you, cherishing you, pleasuring you in the way his words so often failed to do.

He would do for you what you had so generously done for him, and more, if you’d let him. He could give you his tongue, his length, his fingers, a toy—or whatever you wanted. Offer himself to be used and taken however you pleased. Longed to give you everything he could. He was yours, after all. 

Spencer told himself that there would be time for all that, though he always worried otherwise. Keeps it in his head, but he pleads every day that you wouldn’t end up like those he sought justice for at work, or be the body that haunted him until he arrived home to you, or the victim of a target aimed at him. Pleads every day that there would be more time.

But in the meantime, with not much else he can do, just as a sunflower would, he swears to turn his back to everything else dark about the world and follow his sun as long as he is able.

[thezombieprostitute]

Imagine this:

accountant!reader x IT tech!Jensen x manager!Andy x CEO!Lloyd

The intent was to write something short and sweet but smutty. The result is approximately 2200 words with a ton of smut! I blame Lloyd.

Warnings: Power dynamics; Creepy boss; Smut, smut, SMUT! Minors DNI!!!!

“Thank you, Jake,” you half whisper, half moan into his ear. “I really needed this.” You’re not normally one for hookups in the supply closets but you’d had such a stressful day you really needed to let off some steam. Thankfully Jake was always happy to help you out. And he was very good at helping you feel good. 

The two of you had a friends-with-benefits situation that had been carefully negotiated and navigated. Sometimes you got the sense that Jake wanted more and that’s why he was so eager to please. But you were both quick to talk if either of you felt things were getting too serious. It definitely made office parties a lot more fun. Everyone else was enjoying the cheap food and you and Jake got to go to a private office and actually take your time together.

You both do try to be careful at the office but your manager, Andy, has been really ramping up the sad sack shtick with all the women in your department, desperate for a date or some feminine attention and pity. You could only take so much, especially when your coworkers pointed out to him that you’re single. Traitors. 

Every day he would ask you about your plans. You tried being polite and got nowhere. You finally told him, directly, that you weren’t interested in him last Friday. Today you were called into a meeting with HR about “appropriate workplace behavior”. They told you they’d received complaints from your manager about flirting with him despite him telling you “no”. You smiled tightly and nodded, staying quiet and signing the documents saying you’d been talked to. 

You texted Jake on your phone to meet you in the hall closet. One of the things you appreciated? He didn’t ask questions, he just showed up and gave you what you needed. He really seemed to like it when you would repeatedly whisper “thank you’s” into his ear. It’s only a quickie but it definitely helps. You kiss Jake’s cheek and thank him as he blushes. You leave at different times and head back to your respective desks.

 You check your email and find yourself looking at an appointment with Lloyd Hansen, the company’s CEO. Thinking it must’ve been in error you hit the “Decline” button and add the most polite note that you can think of. Just a few minutes after you get yet another appointment notice with Mr. Hansen. No explanatory note. You’re extra grateful to Jake because your brain immediately jumps to Andy complaining about you to Mr. Hansen because your HR visit wasn’t enough of a punishment. 

The appointment is for tomorrow so you silently stew for the rest of the workday. At home you treat yourself to your favorite meal and shows. Your sleep is full of stressful dreams and you wake up more exhausted than when you went to bed. Not wanting to look like a mess in front of Mr. Hansen, you make sure to take extra care of your makeup and clothing choices. Working as hard as your caffeine deprived can to balance “I’m okay” with “I’m not trying to flirt with anyone”. It’s never an easy task.

As you log on to your computer you smell Andy’s cologne and internally wince. You turn to face him, “yes, Mr. Barber?”

“Easy there, tiger,” he chastised. “I just want to make sure that you’re doing okay after that HR meeting.”

Gritting your teeth you reply, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Well I know a lot of people can have a kind of whiplash when they realize their behavior isn’t acceptable,” he explains in an obviously condescending tone. “I’ll understand if you want to take some vacation time.”

“Mr. Barber,” you seethe, “I think what would help me the most is keeping some distance between us at all times in the office.”

“Okay,” he scoffs. “Just remember who it is that HR listens to.” He walks away and you find yourself trying to not throw or break something. 

As soon as you can you head straight to Mr. Hansen’s office. His secretary lets you in, though he is not yet in. You should probably be upset that he’s late for the meeting he insisted on having with you but it’s better than sitting in your cubicle waiting for Andy to strike. 

The quiet is broken by Mr. Hansen storming into the office, yelling at someone on the phone. You recognize him immediately if only because of the mustache. “And I told you to handle it, Six! Get your head out of your ass and fix it!” He lets out a small huff as he listens to the person on the phone. “I don’t give a shit. It should’ve been handled weeks ago. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting.” He hangs up without waiting for a response and turns to you with a smile that makes you feel like prey caught in a trap.

“So you’re the girl Barber was complaining out,” he starts. You’re unable to hold back your grimace and he laughs. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I don’t give a shit about that cuck.” You tilt your head in confusion. “See, he tried to play up the whole “women don’t know how to take a compliment” thing but I was able to see through him. He’s pathetic and you weren’t having it. Even flat out told him, “no”. That’s something I respect. Not everyone would do that to their boss.”

He sits down in his chair and continues, “so I started looking into you and imagine my surprise when I find out you and Jensen are hooking up!” Your eyes widen in shock and you start stammering before he holds out a hand, gesturing for you to stop. “You’re not in trouble for that. Hell if I could get laid instead of attending those lame work parties I absolutely would. Which is why I brought you here.” 

He leans his elbows on the desk, “I want in on whatever fuck-buddy deal you and Jensen got going on.”

“S..sir, I,” you’re at a loss for words. 

“Tell you what,” he slaps the desk and stands up, “I’ll make it easy for you. Either you agree to be my own fuck-buddy, occasionally still get some good stuff from Jensen, or I’ll make you Barber’s personal secretary.”

“What if I quit instead?”

“Then I’ll go ahead and fire Jensen,” he quips. “It would be a damn shame, though. Jakey is one of the best IT guys we got. Likely up for a promotion that would get him a private office.”

“Can I talk to Jake first,” you plead. “It is part of our arrangement that we communicate changes before they’re implemented.”

“You know what, sure. I can respect that a deal is a deal.” He goes to the phone on his desk and tells his secretary to send Jake up.

When Jake does arrive he’s shocked to see you. At Lloyd’s gesture he closes the door behind him. Lloyd doesn’t let you speak and lays everything out for him like he did you. 

Jake looks at you, “it’s…umm…I appreciate you looking out for me and my job,” he starts. “But it’s also your body and I would never want you to accept something like this just for me.”

“You know, Jakey here has a point,” Lloyd interjects. “You really don’t know what you’re in for with me. How about a demonstration? I’ll even let Jake join in to help keep you comfortable.”

Knowing that you were being watched shouldn’t excite you so much. The fact that both of these men wanted you was making you wet. You straddle Jake in his chair and start making out with him while taking off your clothes and grinding your hips against his crotch. 

Jake moans as he takes off your bra with practiced ease, “you’re sure about this?” 

“Feel how wet I am, Jake.” He obliges and sticks his fingers inside your panties. He rubs your clit and you arch your breasts into his face as his eyes widen at the wetness he finds there. 

“Holy shit,” he breathes. He gets a dark glint in his eye that you don’t entirely recognize. He removes his hand and starts to unbutton your pants. “You gotta taste her, Mr. Hansen. Sweetest pussy and it’s already drenched.”

You hadn’t realized Lloyd was standing behind you until he grabbed your breasts, lifting you a little as he nibbled your neck. He pulls you off of Jake and the two of them finish undressing you before setting you on Lloyd’s desk. You’re on your back, your head hanging over one side, your legs spread wide for the both of them. 

Lloyd doesn’t hesitate and dives tongue first into your pussy. Your reaction is immediate as he uses his mustache to tickle your clit. You throw your head back and moan before you’re able to stifle it. 

He pulls away from you, “don’t worry about noise, sweetheart. My secretary is gone for the afternoon and no one else would dare be on this floor.” He turns to Jake, “you were right! This is a damn tasty snack.” He gets back to it and you don’t hold back your sounds. It was such a relief to get to be as loud as you wanted. 

“Fuck, I love those sounds,” Jake groans.

You reach out to him, “your cock, Jake? Please, can I stroke your cock?”

“Love those sounds, too,” he grins as he undoes his belt. You look to Lloyd to see if he has any objections but he’s too focused on licking up all of your juices. Jake is already half hard and your hands know just how to get him fully erect. His hands start playing with your tits, gently pinching, pulling and fondling. 

The two of them quickly bring you to the brink of orgasm, then Lloyd sticks two of his fingers inside you and it pushes you over the edge. You cum loudly and Lloyd keeps scissoring his fingers while sucking on your clit, enjoying the show. When the aftershocks fade, he removes his hand and backs away just a little.

“Jensen, you take her mouth,” he orders. “I’m gonna make a mess of this pussy and I want to hear her choking on your cock while I do.”

You let go of Jake’s erection and he starts pushing himself into your mouth, grunting and moaning as he does so. He’s careful with you, like always, and places your hand on his thigh so you can signal if it gets too much.

Lloyd, however, lines himself up with your opening and quickly thrusts himself fully inside. If your mouth wasn’t so full of Jake’s cock, you’d likely have screamed. They fucked both of your holes with abandon and you were loving every second of it. Occasionally Jake would ask for a status and you’d tap his thigh twice for “all good”. 

“Not gonna last much longer,” Lloyd admitted. “This pussy is so fucking tight. I see why you risked your job for her.” He started rubbing your clit and you careened towards another orgasm. As soon as Jake came in your mouth you were done for. You tightened your legs around Lloyd as you came hard and swallowed all of Jake’s spend. You heard Lloyd mumbling, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” before he came with a yell. 

You’re still in a daze as both men pull out of you. Lloyd whistles, “now that’s a pretty picture. What say we get you cleaned up?”

“What the fuck?!” A voice from the office door crashes your post-orgasm euphoria. You look up and see Andy, standing in the doorway.

“Ah, Barber,” Lloyd says as he zips his pants back up. “Right on time.”

“What?!” Jake exclaims as you look, wide-eyed, at Lloyd. 

“You see, Andy,” he walks over to your manager and claps him on the shoulder. “You’re a complete cuck and we both know it.” Andy tries to protest but Lloyd cuts him off. “This is the closest you’re ever going to get to some pussy. Now be a good boy and clean up the mess I made.” He throws Andy to his knees in front of your spread pussy. 

Andy groans at the sight and you feel a stir of courage. “Well,” you scold. “Are you going to be a good boy and do as you're told or am I going to have to clean myself up?” His eyes darken but you don’t back down. He dives into your cum filled pussy and starts cleaning you up.

“Good boy,” Lloyd smirks. “Probably the only way you can actually please a woman.” He looks at Jake, “whenever you’re done with her, call her cuck over to clean up. Sound good?”

Jake looks to you and sees you writhing with pleasure, “I think so.”

Part 1.5

Tagging @alicedopey because I promised I would.

[estellan0vella]

File It Under N For No One Gives A Fuck: H.JS Han Jisung x fem!wife!reader (Police AU)

WC: 8.1K

CW: mentions of drugs, mentions of anthrax, threats of divorce, talks of sex and inappropriate use of department handcuffs, Chan being a stressed out Captain

General Masterlist SKZ Masterlist

You step into the bustling precinct, your senses immediately absorbing the energy around you. Phones ring, radios squawk, officers shout to each other across the room, and every so often, there’s a burst of laughter from one of the clusters of desks. It’s your day off from the ER, a break from the endless flow of patients, the constant blare of monitors, and the adrenaline-fueled rush that never seems to end. You still want a taste of that energy, though, so here you are, coffee in hand for your husband Jisung and a few of his colleagues.

You navigate your way through the bullpen, a light blue summer dress brushing against your knees, and your white wedges clicking softly against the tile. Your white sunglasses sit perched on your head, holding back your hair, and the scent of freshly brewed coffee follows you as you carry a tray with four cups, each labelled with a different name: yours, Jisung’s, Felix’s, and Minho’s.

As your eyes sweep the room, they land on Felix, slumped back in his chair with a familiar air of exhaustion, his head tipped back, and his arms dangling off the sides as if the world’s weight has finally crushed him. You grin, making a beeline for him. Dropping into the chair opposite his desk, you slide his coffee across to him with a smirk.

“Look what the coffee fairy brought,” you announce, leaning back with an amused glint in your eye.

Felix blinks down at the cup before his face lights up with pure, unfiltered joy. “You absolute angel! I swear, I love you right now. Like, I’m dangerously close to kissing you.”

You laugh, the sound bubbling up before you can stop it. “Jisung would shoot you. No warning, just bang. Right between the eyes.”

Felix chuckles, shaking his head as he picks up his coffee, inhaling the aroma before taking a grateful sip. “Fucking worth it. Honestly, I’d risk it.”

As he drinks, his eyes drift over you, assessing your outfit with a dramatic once-over. He tilts his head, lips curling into a mischievous grin. “Okay, but why do you look like you’re about to star in some cheesy rom-com? Seriously, who are you trying to impress here, and why isn’t it me?”

You roll your eyes, glancing down at yourself as if seeing your outfit for the first time. “Can’t a woman look nice on her day off? I’m visiting my husband, Felix. I get to look like something other than a sleep-deprived ER nurse covered in mystery fluids. Plus, it’s hot outside.”

He smirks, the glint in his eyes growing sharper. “Suspiciously nice, if you ask me.”

Before you can fire back, Minho appears at Felix’s side, his eyes zeroing in on the cup with his name scrawled across it. With a smirk, he grabs it, taking a slow, satisfied sip. “Hmm, just the way I like it. Thanks. You know, you really should leave Jisung and marry me instead. Think about it: we’d be a power couple.”

You deadpan, barely blinking as you retort, “Absolutely not. I’d have to explain your ‘disappearance’ to a jury, and I’m not confident I could sell a self-defence story.” You pause, then add, “Also, your actual wife might take issue with you running off with your buddy’s wife.”

Felix bursts out laughing, nearly choking on his coffee. “Oh my god, I’d pay good money to see her kick your ass, Minho.”

Minho raises an eyebrow, unimpressed. “I’m just saying, you talk a big game. But between you and me, I’m pretty sure I could handle you.”

You lean forward, a challenging grin playing on your lips. “Jisung handles me just fine, he doesn't need your help.”

Just as Minho opens his mouth to respond, Jisung walks up, and you see the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Excuse me, what did I just walk into?”

“Nothing. Just Minho being his usual self,” you reply sweetly, holding out his coffee. “I brought you this.”

Jisung’s face softens, his eyes warming as he takes the cup from you and leans down to press a kiss against your cheek. “What would I do without you?”

“Crash and burn, probably,” you say, grinning up at him.

“Can confirm,” Felix chimes in, lazily leaning back in his chair and clearly enjoying the banter. “You’d be fucked without her, man.”

Jisung rolls his eyes, looking between you and his friends. “Glad to know my friends have so much faith in me.”

He glances back at you, taking in the dress, and a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “You do look amazing, by the way. Makes me want to ditch the precinct and-”

“Absolutely not. None of that in here,” Minho interrupts, raising a hand as if to physically block whatever Jisung was about to suggest. “I get enough of your lovey-dovey nonsense on a regular basis. This is a professional environment, thank you very much.”

You snort, rolling your eyes. “Right, because you’re the embodiment of professionalism, Minho. Never crossed a line in your life, right?”

“I am a paragon of professionalism,” he says, deadpan, puffing up like a proud peacock.

Felix snickers, shaking his head as he takes another sip. “Oh yeah? ‘Paragon of professionalism’? If that’s what we’re calling it now, sure. But remember that time your wife came to visit and Chan caught the two of you going at it in the men’s locker room?”

Minho’s face flushes slightly, but he tries to play it off, lifting his coffee and taking a long sip, refusing to break his stoic facade. “It was a passionate reunion.”

“Oh, we all know,” Felix says, grinning. “We all heard her moaning. Pretty sure they heard it over in the evidence room too.”

You snicker, raising an eyebrow at Minho. “Paragon of professionalism, huh?”

Minho’s face turns even redder, and he mutters into his coffee, “One incident. Just one.”

Jisung chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See, that’s why I stick to public displays of affection in small doses. Less memorable.”

“Yeah, like that time you two were making out in the break room,” Felix says, smirking.

You feign innocence, looking up at Jisung. “I have no idea what he’s talking about. Clearly, he’s delusional.”

Jisung nods, playing along. “Absolutely. Must be all those late shifts, messing with his mind.”

Felix rolls his eyes, leaning forward with a mischievous grin. “Alright, alright. But just remember: if there’s any scandal around here, it’s usually because of you married lot. Meanwhile, I’m the model of restraint.”

Minho opens his mouth, likely to lob a sarcastic comment Felix's way, but the door to Captain Bang Chan’s office swings open with a sharp, foreboding creak. Chan strides out with a look of grim determination on his face that instantly makes your stomach drop. You know that look. Everyone does. It’s the kind of look that’s never followed by good news.

“All right, listen up!” Chan’s voice cuts through the chaotic murmur of the bullpen, slicing the noise in half as everyone freezes and turns toward him. “We’ve just received a credible threat of an anthrax attack on the station. Until further notice, we’re in lockdown. No one gets in or out.”

A stunned silence follows his words, the gravity of it crashing over the room like a wave. Anthrax. Of all things. It feels like the air itself thickens, every eye in the room locked on Chan, processing the information. You’re the first to break the silence.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” you groan, throwing your hands up with dramatic exasperation. “I swear, I am never doing anything nice for any of you ever again. Here I am, on my day off, bringing real Italian coffee straight from my hometown, like the good wife and friend that I am, and now I’m fucking trapped here because some maniac decides today’s a great day to mess with a biochemistry set?!”

Felix snorts into his coffee, trying to hide his laughter, while Minho’s mouth twitches in barely contained amusement. Jisung’s shoulders shake as he attempts to keep a straight face. He reaches out, taking your hand gently and rubbing calming circles over your knuckles. “Jagiya-”

“No! Don’t ‘jagiya’ me right now,” you huff, narrowing your eyes at him. “This is exactly what I get for trying to do something nice.”

Jisung, his lips still curved in a soft smile, gives your hand a gentle squeeze. “Come on, let’s go sit at my desk. You can yell at me there, and maybe the world will make sense again.”

With a dramatic sigh, you allow him to lead you across the bullpen. You drag your feet with exaggerated reluctance, muttering a steady stream of colourful Italian curses under your breath. Jisung, still holding back laughter, takes the two remaining coffees from you as you settle yourself in his chair, folding your arms and glaring at the room like an affronted cat.

“That’s my seat, you know,” Jisung says, raising an eyebrow at you, clearly amused.

You fix him with a glare, your voice dripping with mock indignation. “It was your seat until your wife, out of the kindness of her heart, decided to do something nice for you and wound up smack in the middle of an anthrax threat. So, I think I deserve the chair, don’t you?”

Jisung chuckles, sitting down in the spare chair beside you and sliding your coffee over. “Fair enough,” he concedes, grinning. “And, for the record, thank you for the coffee. Even if we’re potentially in a biohazard zone.”

Your annoyance softens, just a bit, as you take a sip. “You’re welcome. I should start charging extra for hazard pay, though.”

You reach over to one of Jisung’s desk drawers, half-listening to the murmurs around you as people process the lockdown news. Your fingers brush a small packet at the edge of the drawer, and suddenly—

PFFFFT!

A white cloud bursts from the drawer, coating you and Jisung in a fine layer of white powder. You freeze, eyes wide, and for a second, the bullpen goes completely silent. The two of you stare at each other in shock, blinking through the powder.

Jisung sputters, wiping at his eyes with a grimace, before deadpanning, “I’ve never hoped something was cocaine more in my life.”

“Oh, my god,” Minho groans from across the room, his hand rubbing over his face in disbelief. “During an anthrax lockdown, you open a drawer, and a packet of white powder explodes. Seriously?”

You sit there, a mix of horror and resignation, before letting out a long, exasperated sigh. “Well, if it’s anthrax,” you mutter, throwing your hands up, “at least we’ll die together. So fucking romantic, right?”

Jisung lets out a resigned sigh, rolling up his sleeves. He gives you a sly smile. “You considering divorce yet?”

You snort, still trying to dust the powder off yourself. “Not a chance. I need that sweet, sweet overtime money.”

He laughs, his warm, familiar laugh that lightens the absurdity just a bit. As he leans back, wiping powder off his arms, you both notice Felix leaning, wide-eyed, clearly in awe of the sheer absurdity.

“Y/N,” he says, barely holding back laughter, “please, for the love of all things caffeinated, do not stop bringing us coffee. Even if you’re dead. Like, send it from the afterlife or something.”

You roll your eyes, a grin tugging at your lips. “Trust me, if this is anthrax, we’re all toast anyway, so get praying, Lix.”

Felix gives a melodramatic sigh, glancing at the powder-dusted desk with exaggerated despair. “Well, if you die, and I survive, I’ll make the most epic playlist for your funeral. It’ll be a symphony of tragic bangers.”

You chuckle, brushing some powder off your hand. “Appreciate the thought. I’ll haunt you if it isn’t perfect.”

Jisung leans back, watching you spin slowly in his desk chair, one hand still gripping your coffee. He raises an eyebrow, eyes twinkling with barely contained laughter. “You know,” you say. “I always thought a brush with death would be a little more dramatic.”

Jisung chuckles, sipping his coffee. “If it is anthrax, we’re in for a hell of a time, though, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” you nod, launching into a cheerful explanation. “It’ll be nausea, chest pain, coughing up blood, then more pain, and then bam! Dead. Pretty straightforward.”

Minho, still dusting powder off himself, makes a face. “Jesus, Y/N, couldn’t you sugarcoat it?”

You lean forward with a wicked grin. “No, but I could anthrax-coat it.”

Jisung laughs so hard he nearly spills his coffee, shaking his head. “You’re awful,” he says, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Minho stares at the two of you, visibly disturbed. “You two are fucking insane. I’m not dying with you clowns.”

As if on cue, Minho reaches to open his desk drawer and PFFFFT! Another puff of white powder explodes into his face. He jerks back, sputtering and swatting at the cloud around him.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake!” he shouts, coughing as he frantically waves his hands to clear the powder. His eyes dart around the room in horror as he sees the fine dust settling on his shirt.

And then, as if on cue, there’s another PFFFFT! from Jeongin’s desk, sending a similar cloud of white powder into the air.

One by one, desks throughout the bullpen erupt in clouds of powder, each explosion met with gasps, curses, and shouts of “What the hell?!”

Now, at least seven officers stand in powder-covered horror, looking around at each other like deer caught in headlights.

You lean back in Jisung’s chair, arms folded, and let out a theatrical sigh. “It’s like a damn anthrax snowglobe in here.”

Chan stands in the middle of the chaos, looking around with a deadpan expression and slowly rubbing his temples. “This- this is just fucking fantastic,” he mutters. “Seven packets of possible anthrax. All opened. In my station. At once.”

He turns to you, eyes narrowing with a desperate look. “Y/N, you’re a nurse. If this is anthrax-”

“Oh, we’ll all die, no question,” you say far too casually, waving a dismissive hand. “Very unpleasantly, but yeah. It’ll be over soon. Painful but quick”

Jisung gives you a nudge, his smile widening. “You sure you’re not sugarcoating it just a little?”

You tilt your head, pretending to think about it. “Nope. Just straight facts.”

Minho, wiping powder from his face with a look of pure frustration, groans. “You’ve got to be kidding me. All these years on the force, and this is how I go?”

“Tragic,” Felix says, eyeing the powder on his desk like it’s a mortal insult. “I always thought I’d go out in style. You know, something heroic like leaping from a helicopter or rescuing someone from a burning building. This is just fucking depressing.”

You look around, dusted, exhausted, and oddly exhilarated by the chaos. “Well, when life gives you anthrax…” you trail off with a shrug.

Felix raises his coffee cup in salute. “We all go out covered in powder, blood and vomit.”

And with a weary shake of his head, Chan walks back into his office, muttering something about a "transfer request form" under his breath as the bullpen erupts in laughter once more.

Four hours later, the precinct feels like a tomb, the initial panic over the anthrax threat having decayed into a sluggish boredom that clings to the room like a fog. 

Felix stares dead-eyed into his cup, as if expecting it to reveal some hidden truth, while Minho, growing increasingly restless, has resorted to flicking crumpled paper balls at the back of Jeongin’s head. Each hit makes Jeongin flinch, but he’s too tired to even retaliate, just accepting Minho's antics.

You’re leaned back in Jisung’s chair, spinning lazily every now and then as if the motion might somehow break up the monotony. Your coffee, now cold, sits forgotten in your hand, and Jisung, ever the optimist, sits beside you, trying to make light conversation.

“Hey, at least we have each other’s company, right?” he says, nudging you with a hopeful smile.

You raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “It’s my day off, Jisung. I didn’t exactly plan on spending it in lockdown with a possible anthrax scare and shitty coffee.”

Before he can respond, the heavy clomp of boots echoes down the hallway. Your head snaps up, eyes locking onto the doorway just as two men in hazmat suits stride in, their suits rustling like whispers of salvation. You sit up slightly, watching them like they’re some sort of mirage, the long-lost cavalry finally arriving to end this dreary nightmare.

“Well, it’s about fucking time,” you mutter, your eyes following the men as they approach Chan, who looks about as thrilled as a man in his position could look.

Jisung leans over with a small smile, his voice barely above a whisper. “At least they’re here now.”

“Here now?” you scoff, turning to him with an incredulous look. “If this had actually been anthrax, we’d be dead already. What kind of response time is this? They took four hours, Jisung. Four. Do they think we’re immune?”

He stifles a laugh, but you can see his amusement in the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. Meanwhile, the hazmat men gesture to Chan, their voices muffled by their masks as they deliver what must be a lengthy explanation of protocols and procedures. Chan nods, his shoulders slumping just slightly as he listens.

After a few minutes, Chan clears his throat, his voice cutting through the room with forced authority. “Listen up, everyone! Hazmat just informed me that we could be here for another four to nine hours, depending on how long it takes them to conduct all necessary tests.”

A collective groan rises from the bullpen. Before anyone else can react, you whirl around to Jisung, fixing him with a dramatic, accusing stare.

“Divorce,” you declare, pointing at him with a flourish. “Effective immediately”

Jisung nearly chokes on his coffee, eyes wide. “What?!”

You stand up, throwing your arms out in exasperation, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’ve been stuck in this station for hours, with a looming potential biohazard threat. Anthrax or not, this is not how I wanted to spend my day off. This-” you gesture wildly at the room, encompassing the bored, powder-dusted officers around you. “is your fault, Jisung. All of it.”

Jisung stares at you, mouth half-open as he searches for words. “I…how is this my fault? I didn’t exactly order an anthrax scare for our quality time.”

“Oh, but it’s your job that dragged me into this mess!” you say, throwing your hands up again. “I could be at home, in a bathrobe, binge-watching crime dramas from the comfort of our couch. But no. I brought coffee here because I’m a supportive spouse, and now I’m paying the price for marrying you.”

Before Jisung can defend himself, Chan steps in, his voice cutting through like a referee at a boxing match. “Y/N,” he says, an amused smile tugging at his lips, “I’ll call the hospital and get you the day off tomorrow if that’ll make this any easier.”

You cross your arms, narrowing your eyes at Jisung with exaggerated triumph. “Well, would you look at that, Jisung? Your captain just saved our marriage.”

Across the room, Felix, who’s been slumped over his desk in a near-sleep state, perks up, chuckling into his hand. “Shit, Chan is pulling out the big guns. Saving marriages and shit.”

Jisung sighs, holding his hands up in a gesture of defeat as he chuckles. “Guess I owe him one.”

“You owe me more than that,” you mutter, sinking back into the chair and resuming your lazy spinning. “The day off and a full spa day when this is over.”

Jisung grins, leaning back with a playful look in his eyes. “Whatever you want, jagiya. Just as long as I don’t have to file those divorce papers.”

Minho, who’s been watching the entire exchange with a smirk, decides to chime in. “If she divorces you, Jisung, I’ll swoop right in. I mean, who wouldn’t want a spouse who brings Italian coffee in a potential biohazard situation?”

Felix snickers. “If you and Y/N got married, the world would implode. Too much chaos in one household.”

You shake your head, stifling a laugh as you look at Minho with a teasing smirk. “You’d never survive, Minho. One bad day, and I’d have you crying into your cereal.”

“Challenge accepted,” he says, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Chan sighs from his spot, still half-listening to the hazmat team’s explanations. “Enough with the matchmaking. If I have to sit through another hour of marriage talk, I’m filing a transfer request.”

Felix chuckles, leaning over to you with a conspiratorial grin. “Captain Bang, mediator of biohazard romances. Didn’t know it was part of the job description.”

“Must be in the fine print,” Chan mutters, shaking his head. "And I wish I had fucking read it properly"

One of the hazmat techs finally steps forward, addressing the room in a slightly garbled voice through his mask. “All right, folks, we’re going to start testing samples now. Please remain calm, avoid unnecessary movements, and try not to touch anything you don’t need to.”

The room collectively exhales in tired resignation. Minho raises his hand, deadpan. “Define ‘unnecessary movements.’”

The hazmat tech stares at him, either confused or completely done with the situation, it’s hard to tell through the mask. “Just sit tight, sir.”

Felix snickers, muttering under his breath, “The real anthrax scare is how bored we’re all going to be by hour nine.”

Jeongin, who’s been silently enduring Minho’s paper ball attacks, speaks up, a note of desperation in his voice. “If we’re going to be here for that long, can we at least get some food? We’ll starve at this rate.”

“Starve?” Minho raises an eyebrow, picking up his discarded coffee cup. “Nah, we’ll be fine. If we get desperate, we can always resort to cannibalism. Starting with Felix.”

Felix sputters, looking genuinely appalled. “Excuse me? Why me?”

“Self-preservation,” Minho replies smoothly. “You’re the smallest. Least resistance.”

Jeongin, unable to hide his grin, chimes in, “Plus, I bet you’d be like the chicken nugget of the group, Felix. Small, bite-sized.”

Felix rolls his eyes, tossing a paper ball at Jeongin. “I’m a gourmet meal, thank you very much. You’d all be lucky to have a piece.”

Jisung leans over, watching the hazmat team set up their equipment with growing fascination. “Is it bad that I’m sort of curious now? I mean, if this actually is anthrax, we’re kind of making history here.”

You look at him, incredulous. “History? History? If it is anthrax, we’ll be coughing up blood and dying in a very unglamorous way, Jisung. That’s not exactly the kind of legacy I had in mind.”

He shrugs, grinning. “Could make for a hell of a story, though.”

You stare at him, shaking your head. “The next time you want a story, we’re sticking to action movies, not anthrax.”

The hazmat techs start running their samples, and the room falls back into a dull, exhausted silence. You recline in Jisung’s chair, closing your eyes, already imagining the blissful tranquility of a spa day—a very overdue, very earned spa day.

After a while, Felix breaks the silence, his voice low and almost wistful. “You know, if we make it out of this alive, I think I’m going to adopt a cat. Just something small and not life-threatening.”

Jeongin snorts. “You’ll have to survive this lockdown first, man. Don’t go making promises you can’t keep.”

You chuckle, throwing an arm around Jisung’s shoulder. “Fine by me. But if one more puff of powder goes off, I swear, I’m taking the first plane back to Italy and leaving you all to fend for yourselves.”

Jisung just laughs, resting his head against yours. “Whatever you want, jagiya. I'll get on the plane with you.”

Another five gruelling hours crawl by, and the precinct has transformed into a restless prison of boredom and frustration. The air is thick, and stagnant, punctuated only by Felix’s occasional sighs and the relentless tap-tap-tap of Minho’s fingers drumming on his desk. Everyone’s slumped, sprawled out, or halfway to sleep when the two hazmat guys finally reappear, their footsteps echoing like a siren of salvation.

You sit up, barely daring to hope, as the hazmat team heads straight to Chan. After a low, muffled conversation, Chan’s face twists into a mask of pure exasperation. He turns back to the bullpen, the entire room watching him with expectant, tired eyes.

“All right, listen up!” he calls, and every officer straightens slightly, waiting. “The tests are done.” Chan sighs, pausing for what feels like an eternity. “The powder is harmless. A mix of…skin irritants. Talcum powder, cornstarch, and”—he pauses, clearly trying to keep his composure—“itching powder.”

A split second of stunned silence, then the room erupts.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Minho’s hands slam down on his desk as he surges to his feet, his voice a full octave higher than usual. “Nine hours locked down for itching powder?!”

Felix lets out a long, theatrical groan, slumping back in his chair like he might just dissolve into the floor. “Nine hours of this hell, and all we needed was a good rinse in the shower?”

Everywhere around you, officers are grumbling, voices overlapping as they process the absurdity of the past hours. You can’t take another second of it, not Minho’s complaining, not Felix’s endless sighing, not even Jeongin’s eye-rolling. You reach into Jisung’s desk drawer, grab one of the remaining powder packets, and before you can think better of it, you hurl it directly at Minho’s face.

The packet explodes on impact, a cloud of white dust billowing around him. There’s a split-second of silence before laughter explodes through the bullpen, ringing off the walls. Felix slides off his chair, practically wheezing as he gasps for breath, and Jeongin is clapping, grinning like you’ve just performed the greatest prank in the world.

Minho splutters, wiping powder from his eyes, his expression a blend of betrayal and disbelief. “Y/N! You took an oath to do no harm!”

You fold your arms, raising an eyebrow. “Nope. That’s the doctor’s oath. I’m a nurse. Totally different.”

He glares at you, dusted in white powder like a disgruntled snowman. “Unbelievable. Nine hours of hell, and this is how I’m treated? I’m filing a report, mark my words.”

Jisung snickers, reaching over to pat your shoulder. “Go ahead, file it under N. For No one gives a fuck.”

Felix, still practically in tears from laughter, chimes in, “Or under T, for Talk to someone who fucking cares.”

Jeongin joins in, his face lit up with mischievous glee. “Or S, for Shut the fuck up, no one gives a shit.”

Hyunjin, who’s been scrolling on his phone the whole time, doesn’t even look up. “Or D, for Don’t give a fuck.”

Minho’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping as he looks around the room, his face a mask of disbelief and faux betrayal. “I’m being bullied by my own subordinates! This is harassment!”

From his desk, Chan finally speaks, his voice weary and deadpan. “Minho, shut the fuck up.”

Minho’s hands fly to his chest in mock agony, his tone an exaggerated whine. “Now I’m being bullied by the big boss! This is it. No one loves me anymore!”

You lean back in your chair, grinning as you taunt, “I bet even your wife is done with your shit. She’s probably using this lockdown as the perfect chance to call her divorce lawyer.”

Felix’s eyes gleam with wicked delight as he gasps dramatically, “Filed under D, for Disappointing dick game!”

Minho’s face flushes a deep crimson, his eyes bulging as he points a finger at Felix. “Disappointing dick game? You little—”

Chan raises his hands, his face pale with horror as he plugs his ears. “Nope. Nope. Not touching this one. Not taking it to HR.”

You lean forward, eyes glinting with mischief. “You could always file it under O, for One-pump chump.”

Jisung nearly falls out of his chair, laughing so hard his coffee almost spills. Felix has rolled onto the floor, clutching his stomach as he gasps for air, and the rest of the officers are chuckling, some tossing balled-up paper and pen caps at Minho, who looks moments away from either combusting or joining in the chaos.

Minho straightens, arms crossed as he tries to look dignified. “All right, don’t think I won’t shoot every last one of you and then myself!”

Felix, propping himself up on one elbow from his spot on the floor, grins up at Minho. “With your aim, Minho? You’d miss yourself and take out half the precinct’s ceiling instead.”

Laughter ripples through the room again, some officers nearly falling out of their chairs, and even Chan has a hand covering his mouth, clearly struggling not to join in.

Minho raises an eyebrow, trying to regain control as he looks over at Chan. “Captain, I’m seriously filing a complaint. This is hostile work environment behaviour.”

Chan’s gaze turns steely, but his lips are twitching as he struggles to hold back laughter. “Minho, one more word, and I’ll personally throw you out of the window.”

Minho huffs, crossing his arms like a petulant child. “Fine. Just know that when I finally lose it, none of you will be safe.”

You glance over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Lose it? Minho, you lost it the day you joined this precinct. You’re a ticking time bomb of mild inconveniences.”

Jeongin nods, grinning. “Pretty sure your wife would agree, too. She’s probably planning her exit strategy as we speak.”

Felix smirks, winking at Minho. “Filed under M, for Maybe if you were better in bed.”

The room howls with laughter as Minho’s face turns an even deeper shade of red, and you can almost see the smoke rising from his ears. He holds up a finger, shaking it at Felix. “You better hope I don’t catch you in the locker room after this, Lee Felix.”

Felix shrugs, unphased, throwing a playful salute as he leans back in his chair. “Bring it on, grandpa. I can take you.”

Without warning, you walk over to Minho's desk, grab the last remaining packet of powder, and in one smooth motion, smush it directly into his face. There’s a split second of stunned silence before the bullpen erupts in laughter and cheers. Felix lets out a gleeful whoop, practically falling off his chair, while Jeongin laughs so hard he’s clutching his stomach.

Minho sputters, wiping at the powder coating his hair and face, his eyes wide with indignation. “You! I’m going to arrest you for assaulting an officer!” he shouts, launching himself from his chair and charging after you.

You’re already darting across the bullpen, laughter bubbling out of you as you throw a cheeky glance over your shoulder. “Oh yeah? And who’s going to patch you up next time you hurt your wrist being handcuffed to the headboard with your departmentally issued cuffs while getting down and dirty with your wife?”

The bullpen falls silent for a second, jaws dropping as they process your words. Then Felix lets out an ear-splitting scream. “Oh my god! Minho’s sprained wrist was a sex injury?!”

Minho halts mid-chase, face flushing crimson as he slaps a hand over his eyes. “We swore to secrecy!” he protests, his voice cracking with embarrassment.

You duck behind Felix’s desk, grinning wickedly. “Did we? Because I don’t seem to remember that.”

Felix, now nearly in tears, doubles over in his chair, barely able to catch his breath. “This is officially the best day of my life,” he manages to gasp out.

Minho lunges toward you again, but you spring over the desk like a gymnast, dodging his grasp with ease. He stops in his tracks, watching you with a mixture of exasperation and grudging admiration. “Are you some kind of burglar in your spare time?”

You laugh, tossing him a wink. “Had to be, to pick those damn cuffs you left lying around!”

Laughter erupts around the room again, with even Chan chuckling under his breath. Minho, panting and glaring at you, looks around for backup but finds only grins and raised eyebrows. He turns to Jisung, who’s leaning back in his chair, thoroughly entertained. “I’m arresting your wife, Han. You better be ready to bail her out.”

Jisung’s grin widens as he stretches back comfortably. “Go ahead and try. I’ll tase you before you can even get the cuffs out.”

Minho narrows his eyes, crossing his arms. “Oh, so now you’re threatening to tase me?”

Jisung shrugs, lifting his coffee cup in a lazy salute. “If it means protecting my wife, absolutely.”

The room breaks into another round of laughter, with Jeongin egging you on, a glint of mischief in his eyes as he hands you yet another packet of powder. “Here. Third time’s the charm.”

Minho stares at you, eyes wide as he holds up his hands in surrender. “I am serious about this arrest, Y/N,” he growls, his face still dusted with powder.

You raise an eyebrow, grinning. “Great, but if you do, can you at least use someone else’s handcuffs? I don’t want any residue from your…extra-curriculars.”

The entire room dissolves into hysterics again, Felix’s cackles echoing off the walls as he practically falls out of his chair. Minho’s face grows redder and redder as he points accusingly at Jisung. “This! This is who you married?!” His voice is incredulous, the words practically dripping with mock disgust.

Jisung only shrugs, his eyes gleaming with pride. “Minho, you were at our wedding. You even made a toast. You know I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Minho throws his hands up dramatically, shaking his head in dismay. “At the time, she was the sweet, sexy Italian nurse you somehow tricked into marriage. We were all baffled by it! But now…now she’s just an evil, powder-wielding menace!”

Jisung leans back in his chair, draping his arm over your shoulders with a smug grin. “Yeah, but she’s my evil, powder-wielding menace.”

Seungmin, who’s been watching the whole scene unfold with amusement, finally speaks up, his tone incredulous. “No, seriously, Han. How the fuck did you manage to marry her? I need to know.”

Felix, still half-laughing, adds, “Did you slip something in her coffee, man? Because this feels like a miracle.”

You swat Jisung’s arm playfully, grinning. “Trust me, if there’d been anything suspicious in my coffee, I’d have come to my senses and left ages ago.”

The laughter crescendos as officers toss playful insults at Minho, who looks as though he’s about to burst. Finally, just when he seems on the edge of a breakdown, Chan steps in, his voice a mix of amusement and exasperation. “Minho, you’re not arresting her. If anything, she’s doing us all a favour by keeping you in line.”

Minho looks at Chan, his jaw dropping in exaggerated offence. “I don’t even have my captain’s support! What happened to having each other’s backs, huh?”

You lean back in your chair, crossing your arms with a smug grin as Minho mutters, still clearly in shock from the betrayal. Felix, ever the instigator, can’t resist tossing in one last jab. “Hey, Minho, why don’t you go cry to your wife? Oh wait—she’s probably signing those divorce papers as we speak.”

The laughter roars again, and Minho looks as though he’s on the verge of a meltdown. Before he can retaliate, you lean back into Jisung’s embrace, his arms wrapping protectively around you as he chuckles.

“So, after all this,” Jisung murmurs near your ear, “will you still bring us coffee?”

You tilt your head back slightly, smirking up at him. “Only if you start keeping a blanket and pillow in your locker so I can nap next time there’s a lockdown.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, grinning. “If you’d asked, I’d have told you. I’ve had a blanket and pillow in there for months.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “You’ve had a blanket this whole time? And I’ve been stuck here, caffeine-deprived and nap-deprived? Jiiiiisung!”

He laughs, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. “Hey, on the bright side, we can go home now. I’ve racked up a solid six hours of overtime, and we’ve got the whole day tomorrow for movies, naps, and, of course, proper Italian coffee.”

You sigh contentedly, letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Fine. But I’m holding you to it.”

Jisung chuckles, loosening his hold on you just enough to stand up. “What are we waiting for, then? Let me change out of this uniform, and we’ll get out of here.”

He gives you a playful wink and heads to the locker room. The second he’s out of earshot, you swivel back to Minho, who’s still brooding at his desk, and raise an eyebrow.

“Surprised you’re still here, Minho,” you say, grinning wickedly. “Your wife’s probably already got her lawyer on speed dial, ready to serve those papers.”

Minho narrows his eyes at you and scoops up a handful of powder left on his desk, flinging it at you. It flutters through the air, dusting your hair and shoulders. Unphased, you brush it off with a smirk.

Felix, watching with barely contained laughter, leans back. “Y/N still looks like a goddamn model, and Minho looks like he’s auditioning for a low-budget winter horror movie.”

Minho’s face grows redder as he scowls around the room. “I hope this is anthrax. I hope it’s actually anthrax, and you all get what’s coming to you.”

Chan, not even looking up from his paperwork, sighs. “Minho, you’ve inhaled more of that stuff than anyone. You’re going first if it is.”

You laugh, pointing at Minho with a dramatic flair. “So we’ll get to laugh at you one last time before we go. Sounds perfect.”

Jisung returns from the locker room a few minutes later, looking relaxed and cozy in his black sweatpants and hoodie. He reaches for your hand, giving you a warm smile as he leads you toward the exit.

As you pass Minho’s desk, you can’t resist one last poke. “And, Minho? I’m off-duty tonight, so you’re on your own for any sex-related injuries. Better keep things vanilla—no handcuffs, no nipple clamps.”

Minho’s face flushes bright red, and the entire room pauses to stare at him, expressions ranging from shocked to delighted. Felix’s head snaps up, eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Hold up—did someone say nipple clamps?”

You and Jisung exchange a look, grinning, before turning in unison to point at Minho. The room explodes in laughter once again as Minho slams his hand over his face in mortification.

“Fine! So, I like a bit of spice. Sue me!” he shouts over the uproar.

The laughter only intensifies, but Minho lifts his chin, crossing his arms and attempting to look dignified. “At least I’m not the only one with skeletons. I know all about what you two get up to!” he says, pointing accusingly at you and Jisung.

Felix perks up, eyes wide with excitement. “Oh, I have to hear this.”

Minho leans back, smirking. “They do Grey’s Anatomy roleplay. Full doctor-nurse scenarios.”

Felix’s jaw drops, a slow grin spreading over his face. “Wait—how do you know that?”

Minho grins, clearly enjoying the attention. “I was picking up some old furniture from them. Let myself in, and there they were in the living room. Y/N in a slutty nurse outfit, and Dr. Han was conducting a very unethical exam.”

The bullpen erupts into laughter, louder than ever, and Jisung grins, pulling you close, unbothered by the revelation. You roll your eyes, fighting a smile, knowing Minho’s just getting you back.

Felix, wiping tears from his eyes, stammers, “Oh my god, this is the best thing I’ve ever heard. You guys are absolute legends.”

You shake your head, throwing a grin Minho’s way. “All right, all right. Keep those stories for next time, Minho. We’ll be back tomorrow if you want to keep sharing.”

Minho gives a mock salute, a grin spreading across his face. “I’ll save the best for last. But just you wait, Jisung. I’ve got more where that came from.”

Jisung chuckles, guiding you out of the bullpen, giving one last wave. “See you tomorrow, Minho.”

The door closes behind you, and the cool night air washes over your face as you take a deep breath, finally free from the laughter, the powder, and the relentless teasing. Jisung leads you to his car, and as you sink into the passenger seat, you can’t help but smile, feeling a giddy sense of satisfaction.

“Well,” you say, leaning back with a sigh, “that was a day.”

Jisung lets out a soft chuckle, starting the car. “It was something all right. But hey, now it’s just us. Tomorrow’s ours. Movies, naps, and that Italian coffee you’ve been promising me.”

You open one eye, giving him a sidelong glance. “No Minho?”

He smirks, reaching over to give your hand a squeeze. “Definitely no Minho.”

Jisung pulls into the driveway, the familiar warmth of home glowing like a promise as he shuts off the engine. You step out of the car, your heels clicking softly against the pavement as you stretch, arms raised above your head, sighing in relief to finally be back. Jisung joins you, his fingers intertwining with yours as you both head up the walkway, and for a moment, everything feels blissfully calm and quiet. Worlds away from the precinct’s chaos.

Inside, Jisung locks the door behind you, leaning against it with a weary but contented grin. “Shower?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you reply, laughing. “The last thing I need is that damn itching powder haunting me all night. Not dealing with nine hours of that just to be scratching in my sleep.”

He chuckles, squeezing your hand. “Good call. Let’s head up.”

You both kick off your shoes, and you grab the handrail as you make your way upstairs, your dress swishing softly with each step. In the bathroom, Jisung is already tugging his hoodie over his head, tossing it to the floor without a second thought. His grin turns wicked as he catches your eye. “What, no stripping from you?”

You roll your eyes but smile, unzipping the back of your dress and letting it slide from your shoulders, pooling around your feet. “Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” he says, his eyes twinkling as he slips off his sweatpants and steps into the shower. He twists the handle, testing the water temperature with his hand. “Come on, it’s perfect.”

You step in beside him, the hot water pouring over you, washing away the remnants of powder, sweat, and every ounce of stress. Jisung closes the glass door behind you, reaching for the shampoo and pouring a generous dollop into his hands.

“Here, let me,” he murmurs, massaging the shampoo into your hair with gentle fingers, his thumbs rubbing small circles along your scalp.

You close your eyes, melting under his touch. “God, how much powder did we inhale today? I feel like it’s in my hair, my lungs…my brain.”

He laughs, rinsing the shampoo from your hair. “Honestly, we’re probably sneezing up talcum powder for weeks. Worth it though—you looked like a total badass hurling that last packet at Minho.”

“Couldn’t resist,” you say, tilting your head back to let the water flow over your hair. “Besides, the whole thing was ridiculous. Nine hours of lockdown for itching powder?”

“You made it memorable, though,” he teases, his fingers running through your hair to make sure it’s completely clear. “Thanks for sticking it out with us.”

You scoff, giving him a playful nudge. “Like I had much choice. I’d have been thrown in lockup if I’d tried to escape.”

He snorts. “No way would I let that happen to my beautiful wife, stranded in her sundress and all. I’d fight anyone who tried to lock you up.”

“Anyone, huh?” you laugh, glancing over your shoulder at him. “Even Chan?”

Jisung lifts his chin defiantly. “Even Chan. Sure, he’d wipe the floor with me in seconds, but I’d make it look heroic. I’d do it for you.”

You laugh, turning to face him, your eyes sparkling. “Babe, you’re right. Chan would flatten you without breaking a sweat. One flex of those shoulders, and you’re done.”

“Hey!” he protests, scooping a handful of water and splashing it at you, eyes narrowed in playful accusation. “I thought you were on my side.”

Grinning, you wipe the water from your face. “I am on your side! You’re the one who said it!”

He huffs, though his grin is unstoppable as he lathers up the body wash, his hands moving over your shoulders and down your arms, lingering at your waist. “Sure, sure. Thanks for the support, traitor.”

“Just being realistic here,” you reply, biting back a laugh.

He smirks, his thumb tracing a soft circle on your hip. “Yeah, yeah. ‘Realistic,’ my ass.”

You nudge him lightly, but he only laughs, taking a step back to grab the body wash for himself. You let the hot water cascade over you, rinsing away the last of the powder, and sigh as the warmth melts the final bits of tension in your muscles. Once he’s finished washing, Jisung twists off the water, reaching for a fluffy towel on the wall.

Stepping out, you grab your favourite long robe with the marabou trim, wrapping it around yourself. Jisung, watching you with a smirk, secures a towel around his waist, eyebrows raised in admiration.

“You know,” he says, tilting his head as he eyes your robe, “they call those ‘femme fatale robes’ for a reason. You look like you’re about to seduce me for a stack of cash and a getaway car.”

You snort, pulling a comb through your damp hair. “Please. That’s the last thing on my mind right now. Food and sleep are the only things I’m interested in.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” he says, grabbing his razor from the sink and applying a dollop of shaving cream to his face. “I’m starving. How about takeout?”

“Sounds perfect,” you say, reaching for your skincare products. “Cooking anything tonight sounds like absolute torture.”

He chuckles, carefully shaving the stubble from his face. “Takeout and…a Harry Potter marathon?”

You grin, catching his eye in the mirror. “Now you’re speaking my language. Ravenclaw supremacy, all the way.”

“Uh, excuse me?” He pauses mid-brush, putting on an expression of exaggerated shock. “We all know Hufflepuff’s the real hero house.”

“Oh, Jisung,” you say, shaking your head as you smooth on some moisturizer. “Ravenclaws would outsmart everyone in seconds.”

“Psh, Hufflepuffs would win on loyalty and determination,” he counters, rinsing his razor. “We’re the ones who bring snacks, make sure everyone’s good, and still get the job done.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” you reply, patting on some eye cream. “Meanwhile, I’ll be doing what Ravenclaws do best: winning.”

He rolls his eyes, grinning as he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close. “Fine, Miss Ravenclaw Supremacy. Let’s go order some food before I pass out right here.”

Together, you head down the hallway to the bedroom, where Jisung grabs his phone and flops onto the bed, scrolling through food delivery options.

“So, what are we feeling? Pizza? Thai? Sushi?” he asks, glancing at you as you turn on the TV and pull up Netflix.

You curl up beside him, resting your head on his shoulder. “Let’s go with Thai. Feels earned after today.”

“Thai it is,” he says, quickly placing the order. He sets his phone down and wraps an arm around you, pulling you in closer. “And tomorrow morning, once we’re itch-free and well-rested, I’m making us the biggest breakfast ever. Pancakes, eggs, the whole deal.”

You sigh, melting into his warmth. “That sounds heavenly. But for now, we’ve got Thai on the way, Harry Potter ready to go, and we’re finally powder-free.”

Jisung grins, pressing a kiss to the top of your head as he clicks play on The Philosopher’s Stone. “Nineteen hours and thirty-nine minutes of pure wizarding magic ahead of us.”

You snuggle deeper into him, grinning. “Perfect. Only way this night could be better is if you’d actually pick Ravenclaw.”

“Keep dreaming,” he chuckles, giving your side a gentle squeeze. “Everyone knows Hufflepuffs bring the real magic. Besides, what do Ravenclaws even bring? Trivia?”

“Intellect,” you say, sitting up slightly to give him a haughty look. “And let’s be honest—Ravenclaws would make amazing Aurors.”

He shakes his head, amused. “And Hufflepuffs would be the best Healers, the ones who’d save everyone after your ‘intellect’ gets you all hexed.”

You throw a pillow at him, laughing as he catches it easily. “You’re impossible.”

“Nah, I’m adorable,” he replies with a smirk, leaning in to give you a quick kiss. “And I’ve got Thai food on the way.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that,” you say, settling back against him as the movie starts.

When the doorbell rings twenty minutes later, Jisung jumps up, grabbing the food and quickly coming back to the bedroom, arms loaded with takeout bags. He spreads them out on the bed, grinning.

“All right, feast time!” he declares, opening the containers. “Green curry for you, Pad Thai for me, and spring rolls for both of us.”

You dig in, savouring the warm, spicy flavours, and let out a contented sigh. “This is exactly what I needed.”

Jisung grins, his mouth full of noodles. “Told you. Nothing like Thai and Harry Potter after a day like that.”

The movie plays on, and you both devour the food, laughing over scenes you’ve seen a thousand times and arguing over the merits of each Hogwarts house. As the night wears on, you find yourself drifting off against him, his arm a comforting weight around your shoulders.

Just as you’re about to fully doze off, Jisung gently shakes you awake. “Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. We’ve got a whole marathon to get through.”

You smile sleepily, snuggling into him. “Can’t help it. You make the perfect pillow.”

He laughs softly, shifting so you’re both lying down, pulling the blankets over you. “All right, fine. We’ll marathon it tomorrow. For now, get some sleep.”

You drift off with his fingers tracing soothing patterns on your back, the sound of the movie playing softly in the background. For once, there’s no powder, no noise, just the quiet warmth of home, Jisung beside you, and a full night of uninterrupted rest stretching out ahead.