#I can't stop staring at this-- IT'S SO INTERESTING

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 23: Regrets

Summary: Depression: a common mental health condition characterized by a low mood or loss of pleasure or interest in activities for long periods of time. 

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 9,940

Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, a/b/o typical classism and sexism, angst, mental illness, depression, very heavy emotionally, angst, Johnny gets his feelings hurt (but only for a moment), angst, everyone is having big emotions, Bella Swan-esque sad montage, angst, kissing, slight suggestive content, angst

A/N: Did I completely rewrite part of this during the editing process? Yes. Are you going to thank me for that? Also yes. I'm trying something a bit different with this chapter, so let me know what you think. It probably won't be a regular thing, but I just thought I'd give it a test and this chapter was the perfect time to do that.

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They say you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone. 

They’re right. There’s a hole in your chest, an empty void. The squeaking of your shoes on the tiles sounds far away as you numbly walk back towards your room. 

“Ye alright, kitten?” Johnny asks cautiously as you pause in front of your door long enough to turn the handle.

You turn to look up at him, his brows pinched and his eyes shining with concern. “He's gone.” Your voice cracks and shakes, breaking over the words like you're speaking the finality of the situation. 

You are. 

“I know.” Johnny reaches out, his fingers wrapping around your arm. “I wish there had been more warning, but this is usually how his solo assignments go.” 

You swallow thickly. “He'll come back, right?”

Johnny grimaces. “Ye know I can't promise that. But, there's no one quite as capable in the field as him, except maybe Price.” Johnny squeezes your arm gently. “He’s been doing this for a long time, kitten. Have faith in that, and his skills.” 

Johnny’s words do nothing to help the turmoil inside you, the fear and anxiety. One split second mistake, one wrong decision and you know it could be over. Everything could be over before it even started. Why didn’t you confront him sooner? Why didn’t you pick up on his true feelings, his emotions as quickly as he seemed to decipher yours? It’s not fair that they can be taken from you so easily and so quickly. There’s no room for argument, no room for any begging or pleading for them to stay. They have a job, and they’ll always choose that job over you. 

“Ye gonna be alright?” Johnny asks, letting his hand fall from your arm as you push open your door, entering your room before closing it in immediately, clicking the lock into place. You lean against the door for a moment, biting your lip to try and stop the tears as you begin to shiver from the dampness of your clothes. 

You leave your shoes in a pile next to the door before you pad silently to your bathroom, stripping off your clothes once you hit the tile. You’re shivering, a cold chill starting to seep into your very bones as you start the tub, letting it fill with water. The tears blur your vision, dripping into the steaming water as you sink into the bath. You can’t stop the tears as you sit there, not caring how hot the water is, not caring how it makes your skin feel like it’s on fire. You’ll take the pain, the discomfort. Anything to ease the pain that’s ripping your chest wide open.

It hurts, he won’t lie, when you close the door in his face. Well, it wasn’t entirely in his face. He was a foot away from the door, but it still causes a little ache in his chest, a little upset in his mind that you just cut him off like that. The click of the lock is like a finality, the gavel falling on your decision to distance yourself for now. 

The rejection of his offer for comfort has his beta stirring uncomfortably in his mind. Tears fill his own eyes as he stares at the handle of your door, wishing he could reach out and grab it, fling it open and take you into his arms and hold you until you stop crying, until the pain of Simon’s sudden absence goes away. 

“Come on.” John says quietly, wrapping his arm around his shoulders. “Give her some time.” 

He lets John lead him away from your door and back towards the rec room. He shouldn’t be so hurt by your abrupt dismissal. You were quite obviously upset, upset enough to run out into the rain after Simon. He saw you race out the door, his stomach clenching in worry, but thankfully the rain had forced most inside. There was little threat to you, not with Simon there, but he had been worried you might not be able to catch him, that you might run blindly into the rain to try and find him. 

He had spotted the tears trailing down your cheeks as you walked back to the barracks, mixing with the rain that soaked straight through you. He’s used to his alpha having to leave suddenly, the distance and the worry are second nature now thanks to their jobs, their lifestyles. You’ve never been through this before with him, though, and so soon after the two of you were finally beginning to give in. It’s like a curse. They begin to get close to you, and then suddenly they’re ripped away. 

He almost feels guilty, like he’s responsible for your pain. If he hadn’t forced it, if he hadn’t put you both in that position, maybe you wouldn’t be so upset. He couldn’t have known, though, that Simon would be called away like that. It could happen at any time, they all know that. They always have to be ready, always have to be prepared to be called out. Even on leave they can’t guarantee there won’t be an emergency. It’s just the nature of their job. 

It wouldn’t have bothered any of them before you. 

“She didn't take it well, did she?” Kyle says as John guides Johnny to sit on the couch next to him. 

“Christ, she's so upset.” Johnny says, leaning his head in his hands. “If I hadnae pushed them, then this wouldn't have happened.” 

“You couldn't have known this was going to happen.” Kyle says, squishing Johnny between him and John to try and comfort the upset beta. 

“We didn't even know until a couple of hours ago.” John says, draping his arm across the back of the couch.

“If she's this upset at one of us leaving...how upset was she when we all left?” Johnny says, his stomach churning at the thought. No wonder you were so shaken when they came back. 

“The best thing we can do right now is leave her alone and let her do what she needs to do.” John says, pulling Johnny so he's resting against his chest. “She'll come out when she's ready.” 

The afternoon comes and goes, the rain slowing to a light drizzle. You still haven’t left your room, sealed inside, secluded from them. Johnny casts the closed door a wistful look every time he walks down the hallway, half tempted to try the knob and see if it’s been unlocked, but he stops himself. The last thing you need is to be scared by someone trying to get in. John is right. You’ll come out when you’re ready. 

John knocks on your door as they get ready to head to dinner, waiting a moment for some type of response. “We’re going to dinner, sweetheart.” He says through the door when there’s no answer to his knock. “Do you want us to bring you something?” 

There’s a quiet noise from your room, some muffled response to John’s question.

“We’ll be back soon.” John says, somehow able to make out what it is you said. Or maybe his plan was to bring you something regardless of whether you agreed or not. 

It feels strange, just the three of them walking to the mess. It’s not the first time they’ve gone just the three of them, but it feels different this time. It’s not Simon’s missing presence that weighs so heavily, it’s yours. 

There’s a tenseness that’s settled over them as they sit at the table, avoiding eye contact with each other.  Simon’s empty space at the table wouldn’t have felt so much like an empty chasm if you had been there to fill some of it. 

They’re not sure what to do, the feeling similar to what they felt upon their return. They knew it would be bad, but they hadn’t expected you to be in shambles like you were. Their pack mate is hurting, their omega is hurting, and there’s nothing they can do. They don’t know what to do. Johnny wants to kick in your door, rush into your room and envelop you in a hug so tight you’ll complain that you can't breathe. He just wants to help you, but that’s not what you want, what you need right now. 

He knows it’s his beta instincts, his need to comfort and soothe and support. If Kyle is feeling the same way, which Johnny knows he has to be, he’s hiding it well. Though, perhaps that’s just for his sake and John’s. He can’t even imagine what John is going through, knowing his omega is suffering in such a way. 

All because Simon is gone. 

How easily one missing piece could tear the pack apart. If something happened to one of them, or god forbid something happened to you, they might not be able to recover. They had always assumed their training would win out, that they could move past it in the way they would had there been nothing but the bonds of camaraderie between them. 

How silly that idea had been. 

It’s no secret death disrupts pack stability, shakes the bonds that tie a pack together. He remembers how his Grannie’s death had shaken his family for weeks and it had taken months to return to what could be considered normal after a partially expected death of a member of the pack. What kind of damage would an unexpected and sudden death do to a pack? 

Johnny shakes the thought from his head. There was always a risk. They all knew that, they all agreed to that when they signed up. He knows Simon is highly skilled, well accustomed to working alone, to completing solo assignments successfully. The risk of something happening was always high, but he trusts Simon and puts faith in his skills. 

John goes back through the line once they finish, making a tray for you and piling it high as usual. It always makes him happy to see how well cared for you really are. Despite the circumstances of you being added to their pack, he knows it could have been so much worse. There’s worse packs, worse alphas out there. At least with them, you’re an equal. You’re their precious omega, and they’d make anyone who threatened you regret that decision. 

John is surprised the handle turns when he tries it. You’ve gotten up at least, but he’s not surprised to find you back in the same place you’ve likely been all day. He closes the door behind him before moving to your bed, setting the tray of food down on your nightstand. You squint as he flicks the lamp on, reaching up to rub your eyes. The bed dips as he sits on the edge, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. 

“I know this is hard for you.” He says softly, brushing his fingers across your bare arm. Your skin is warm, likely from being burrowed under the blankets. “I can't even imagine what you're feeling right now.” 

“He's gone.” You say quietly, your voice hoarse from crying. 

“Just for a while.” He says. “He’ll be back.” 

“But you can’t promise that.” You argue, pushing yourself up to sit. Your cheeks are still damp with tears, eyes red and lips still trembling. 

“There’s always a risk,” He says softly. “But you have to trust Simon. He’s not going down without a fight.” He sighs quietly as your gaze drops to your hands, your fingers picking at the skin around your fingers. He slips his hand into yours, stopping you from continuing. “What’s eating you?” 

“I should have told him.” You sniffle, your eyes on his hand as your fingers close around it. . 

“Told him what?” He prods gently, curiously. 

“That I love him.” You say, lifting your gaze to look at him. “I should have said it but I didn’t and now what if he doesn’t come back? I love all of you, and I don’t want you to leave, and I don’t want anything to happen to you.” The words end in a sob, tears sliding down your cheeks again. 

Your words take him by surprise. It’s no secret how they feel about you, how their feelings have grown from curiosity to companionship to attraction and now to love. All of them have come to love you in their own ways, even Simon in his resistance wasn’t immune to his feelings, to their shared feelings towards you. 

“Look at me.” He cups your face gently, his thumbs wiping the falling tears. “I wish things didn’t have to be this way, I wish they hadn't picked us to be first for this. It's not fair to you, it's not fair to put you through this. I wouldn't change having you as my omega, but forcing you to live like this, to be left behind with the worry over something none of us can control.” He shakes his head. “It was a selfish decision by those who created the initiative.” 

“What...what happens if the initiative fails?” You ask softly. 

“We’re not giving you up.” He says, holding your gaze. “We wouldn’t want to, and we wouldn’t let it happen. You’ve been part of this pack since the day you stepped foot on this base. We wouldn’t have let you go then, and we sure as hell won’t now.” 

Your breathing is shaky as you stare at him, and he can see the wheels turning in your head, the hesitation as you debate whether you want to speak. He hates that you still feel this way, that you have to hide your thoughts from them out of fear or worry that they might be angered by them. He’s not sure there’s anything you could say that would anger him. 

“Would you ever leave for me?” You speak the words slowly, hesitantly, like they might bite you if you're not careful. 

He's not expecting it, though he has wondered if you'd ever ask it of them. If it might come to be too much and it leaves you no choice but to ask, to give them the ultimatum. He lets out a breath, all the answers he'd thought up in response gone as he sits face to face with you, as he faces this question out in the open for the first time. Tears are gathering in your eyes as you stare at him, taking his silence as second thoughts, as possible rejection. 

“Please be honest with me.” You whisper shakily, a tear slipping down your cheek. 

He watches its path as it slides down your cheek, pausing at the line of your jaw before it drips down onto your shirt. He lifts his gaze back to yours, the pain in them stabbing straight into his heart. He wants to say yes, that he'd leave in a heartbeat, give up what he'd worked his whole life to achieve, all for an omega. His omega. 

He wouldn't be able to sleep at night, knowing the kind of evils that exist in the world, the kinds of threats that linger in the dark. The evils that may pose a threat to you and his pack. You’ll never be truly safe, not so long as there’s others who know of your existence. Very few of them he’d truly trust with the knowledge that you pose a threat to their efficiency as a team, a weakness that could be exploited. 

What bloody fucking fools they were, leaving you alone like that. 

“Part of me wants to say no,” He admits honestly, ignoring the flash of pain in your eyes. “But it would depend on the situation. If your life was ever in danger because of us, then without question. If the initiative fails, if we can't adjust, then we may have no other choice.”

“The job comes first.” You say quietly, sounding defeated. 

“But there may come a time when it doesn't.” He says, trying to reassure you. “Don't worry about that too much right now.” He brushes a hand over your hair. “If a situation arises, then we'll talk about it further.” 

He leans forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You lean into him, letting out a quiet breath. He pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you tightly. 

“I love you too.” He says, his lips brushing the top of your head. “And Simon knows how you feel.” 

You shift in his arms, pulling back just slightly to stare up at him. Your brows are pinched as you stare at him. “What do you mean?”

“Simon is very good at reading people. Their scents, their emotions, their body language. Years of training paired with his own natural abilities.” He smiles softly at you. “He knows how you feel.” 

“Oh,” You say, shrinking into yourself. 

“He'll likely convince himself it's not true, knowing him and how he thinks. You'll have to tell him to make him believe it.” He pats your leg under the blankets. “Don't worry too much about him. He'll be back before you know it.” He pushes himself up to stand. “Eat your dinner. We'll be around if you need anything.” 

“John?” You ask, stopping him before he can leave. 

He turns back around to face you. “Yes?”

“Thank you.” You say. “For everything.”

A small smile pulls at his lips. “Of course.”

You're just stepping out of the bathroom when the knock sounds on your door. You had gotten up to rinse your face with cold water, your skin starting to feel tight and itchy after nearly an entire day of uncontrollable tears. You freeze at the sound of knuckles tapping on the wood, your heart leaping into your chest. Is it one of the guys coming to tell you bad news? Has something happened to Simon? 

Or is he coming back already? 

You’re half scared, half hopeful as you make the short journey across your room to the door. You feel like you’re moving in slow motion as your fingers close around the handle, slowly pulling it open. 

Johnny is standing on the other side, his face a mix of worry and sadness. It doesn’t help the despair already starting to manifest in you. Something must have happened to Simon. Something’s gone wrong. He’s not coming back, or they’ll have to leave to help him. 

“Ye doin’ alright, kitten?” Johnny asks, his brows furrowing as he stares at you. 

“Yeah.” You can’t help but wince at the way your voice cracks around the word. You sniffle, wiping at your nose with your sleeve. 

“I have somethin’ for ye.” He says, his hands fiddling with the fabric he’s holding. You hadn't noticed it before now. “I was gonnae do Simon’s laundry, but I thought ye might want this.” 

It’s one of Simon’s shirts he’s holding out to you, one of the black standard cotton t-shirts he often sports. Your fingers tremble as you take it, bringing the fabric to your nose. You don’t care that it’s dirty, having likely been soaked in sweat at one point. You inhale deeply, nose pressed into the fabric. It smells of soap and deodorant and him. Tears well in your eyes as you take in the scent, almost as if you’re getting it directly from the source. 

You’re moving before you realize it, your arms wrapping around Johnny’s middle. He seems almost surprised by your action, his body tensing for a second before it relaxes, his arms wrapping around you. 

“Thank you.” You murmur against his chest, a couple tears slipping from your eyes. You’re so tired of crying, but you can’t stop. 

“Yer welcome, kitten.” He says, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ye need anythin’...” 

He leaves the other half unsaid, but you know what he means. You’re hesitant to pull away from him, wanting to just stand there and cling to him until Simon returns, but you know he’s busy. Eventually he’ll have to leave you too. You’re not sure you could handle watching him leave your nest, close your door behind him as he’s forced away to do his job. 

Your door clicks as you shut it, holding Simon’s shirt to your chest. You’re tempted to wear it, to slip it over your head and bathe yourself in your scent, but you know if you do that, his scent will just fade faster and become overwhelmed by your own. The desire to bury yourself in it is strong, let his scent sink into your body and overwhelm your own. 

Your eyes pass over the giant bear sitting in your desk chair before snapping back to look at it. An idea begins to form in your head as you set the shirt on your bed. 

You grab the bear, hauling it to your bed and sitting it on the edge. You pull the shirt over its head, stretching the neckline slightly. The shirt is slightly baggy on the bear, but you don’t care as you maneuver it so it’s laying on the bed, trying to picture Simon in its place. It would be a tight squeeze, but then again it always is with any member of your pack. Their bodies don’t leave much space on the narrow mattresses by themselves, much less with you curled up with them. You can’t help the stirring in your chest, the yearning for more space, for a bed big enough to fit all of you at the same time. Big enough for Johnny to starfish himself comfortably, for you to escape the inescapable suffocating heat of their bodies that will build up inevitably. 

Tears burn behind your eyes as you crawl onto the mattress, draping yourself across the giant bear. Simon’s scent wafts up around you as you press your face into the shirt, pretending it’s Simon you’re laying against. You can almost feel his arms wrap around you, holding onto you like you might disappear if he lets go. You squeeze your arms tighter around the bear, letting Simon’s scent seep into your mind and take away your fear and your worry and your pain for a little while. 

It’s two days later when you finally leave your room. You’ve managed to stop the onslaught of tears, calming down enough to exist without being a weepy mess. There’s still an ache in your chest, though, the gaping hole that won’t close. A piece of you is missing, a piece you hadn’t even noticed was there until it was ripped out of you suddenly and violently. Your hug with Johnny had been the first time it had felt less intense, the aching abating just slightly. 

They’ve just returned from their afternoon training, earlier than usual meaning they have some downtime before dinner. You can almost tell where he is before you leave your room, following the sounds of the TV. Your steps are slow and quiet, the cold tile biting into your bare feet as you approach the rec room. 

He’s seated on the couch, spread out as usual. His eyes flicker to you as you hesitate in the doorway, tugging at the hem of the baggy shirt you’re wearing. You’ve long forgotten whose it is, the name on the tag worn off and all hints of scent erased by the many times you’ve worn and washed it. The thought tugs at the hole in your chest. Eventually Simon’s shirt won’t smell like him anymore, faded and rubbed away by time and your own scent. 

“Hi kitten,” He says, breaking the silence between you. 

You let out a shaky breath before entering the rec room, approaching him. You can tell he’s expecting you to sit next to him, to curl up against his side by the way he moves his arm, but instead you straddle his lap, all but throwing yourself against his chest. He grunts quietly in surprise, his arm instinctively wrapping around your back. You lay your head on his shoulder, going limp in his hold. 

It doesn’t fix the hole, doesn’t remove the ache entirely, but you can feel it start to lessen as you sit there, getting as close to Simon as you possibly can through his beta. You wrap your arms around his neck, fingers twisting the fabric of his shirt. He wraps his other arm around you, holding you tightly as his scent begins to project around you. Nothing is said, but nothing has to be. He knows what you need, and he doesn’t even have to use his instincts to figure it out. 

A week goes by without a word from Simon or even about him and how he’s doing. You return to your normal routine in a numb, almost dazed state. You follow the rest of your pack around like a lost puppy, going to meals and following them to training when John allows, withdrawing back to your room like a recluse when you can’t. You sit in the rec room with them in the evenings, but you feel far away, distant from them and reality. You stare at the TV, but all you can see are blurry moving shapes. You can’t even read, often finding yourself staring at the cover until the words mesh and blur into something else. 

You never thought the distance could feel like this. You almost miss the fear of them all being gone. At least that had made you feel something. 

You see Dr. Keller twice as usual, both appointments unproductive as you fight to force some kind of life into yourself to drown out the numbness that’s settled. You’re far away, distracted from everything. Even food tastes different, more mushy and flavorless than usual. 

They’re worried about you. Even in your numb state you can tell that. John hovers closer, allowing you to follow them more than he probably should. It’s not like you’re paying much attention to what they’re doing, seated far away from anything that might put you at risk as you stare up at the sky, or off at the trees in the distance. Even when you’re inside, your gaze is far away, never quite focusing on anything. 

Johnny and Kyle keep you close as much as they can, squishing you between them on the couch or when you walk to meals. They’re always touching you, holding your hands, brushing your skin, wrapping their arms around you. They’re trying to comfort you, and it works for a little bit, not even your numbness impervious to a beta’s soothing presence. They hold onto you like they’re trying to keep you grounded to the earth, like you might float off and disappear into space if they don’t. 

You don’t sleep well, electing to sleep in your room every night. It’s a vast difference to what you had been doing, avoiding your room as much as possible. You’re seeking out the safety of your nest, a comfort only it can provide despite everything that’s happened. You feel bad for pushing them away, keeping them at a distance, but at the same time, you don’t care. 

You just want Simon back. 

“I’m worried.” 

“I know. I’m surprised you didn’t come here sooner.” 

He feels strange, sitting in Dr. Keller’s office alone. It’s not the first time he’s been here, spoken to her about you. After their return from their first assignment, he had sat with Dr. Keller and gone over everything that had happened during their absence, or at least as much as she could tell him. Anything you talked about was considered confidential, but at least she could tell him if there were any issues or incidents. 

“She’s depressed.” Dr. Keller answers before he can even ask. “It’s not uncommon for omegas to become depressed after separation. Even when there’s necessary splitting of a pack into a satellite, there’s a risk for all omegas to develop depression because of it.”

He should have known. He’s seen it happen to soldiers, when the blood staining their hands grows to be too much and they begin to recluse in their own bodies, becoming empty shells of who they were before. You’ve become a shell, a body simply existing out of necessity. 

“What can we do?” He asks, unable to keep the mask up, to hide his concern and fear. 

“Not much more than you have been.” She says. “Keep supporting her, reminding her that you’re there. There’s an adjustment when a bond begins to weaken. Omegas are especially susceptible to it, and with how strongly connected and aware of her instincts and emotions she is, it’s going to affect her more.” Dr. Keller sighs, leaning her arms on her desk. “I don’t think anyone has ever taught her how to balance or even use those purebred instincts. Institutes are supposed to, but from what we know, they teach subservience over anything.” 

John shifts in his seat. Of course no one would have cultivated those abilities. It would have made you too aware, made the risk of you being able to manipulate them too high. Your job was to serve them above all else, so why would those teaching you want to give you that ability? Those instincts would have made you a perfect omega, able to pick up on the slightest changes, the needs of your pack. Yet, if you became too aware of your own abilities, it would give you too much power over them. That’s the one thing institutes don’t want...an omega that knows how powerful they are. 

“How do we teach her?” He asks. 

“I can help her with balancing those instincts and emotions, but only someone who knows can really teach her how to be successful at using them.” 

“Simon.” He says, the pieces beginning to come together. 

“If he didn’t know how before, his military training would have cultivated those instincts. That’s why purebreds are so sought after by militaries. Of course, it’s a bit different for alphas and omegas, but you are two sides of the same coin.” Dr. Keller smiles. “She’s smart. She’ll begin to figure it out on her own once she’s aware she can do it. In the meantime, just keep doing what you’re doing. If there’s some way she can talk to him or get in contact with him, that may help alleviate some of the depression.” 

He knows it won’t be likely, but if it will help you, he’s willing to take that risk. “I’ll see what I can do.” 

He stands outside your door, staring at the knob. It’s late, his eyes burning from exhaustion. He’s stressed, not just from the day to day stressors of his job, but your obvious pain and discomfort has been affecting him. It’s affecting all of them. Kyle and Johnny’s times on the course have slowed, their aim is off, and he knows they’re not sleeping well either. 

Even with you beginning to return to your normal routine, your distance from them has proven to affect them more than your presence. Even with you around them, your numbed, absent state has disrupted their abilities to function, to exist as a normal pack. He’s relayed the sudden change to Kate in an attempt to prove his decision not to leave you alone is the right one, and it will help his case should they decide to try and separate you from the pack. 

He can’t think of a reason why they would now. The bonds are too strong. The separation of just one of them has proven to disrupt the bonds between all five of you. He can only imagine how Simon is feeling, being apart from everyone. It’s never bothered him before, but that had been before your presence. If Simon was incapable of fulfilling his duties and performing the task he had been assigned, they would have forced him out of the field and sent him back by now. 

Perhaps your fears were right and Simon isn’t as in love as John thought he was. 

He shakes the thought from his head. He’s seen the way Simon looks at you, the obvious change in his demeanor since your trip to town, the changes that have happened in your demeanor around him. Simon cares for you deeply, more than just as an alpha in your pack. 

He tries the handle of your door, surprised again when it opens. He might have thought you’d start locking it at night again with how much you’ve regressed. Maybe this was your silent plea for help, for comfort, for something other than the emptiness inside you. He slips into the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light of your nightlight in the corner. He can’t see you except for your arm tossed around the giant bear. It’s wearing a black shirt, likely the one Johnny had given you. It was a good decision, offering you at least an extension of the missing alpha. 

He approaches the bed quietly, not wanting to startle you. He doesn’t want to climb over you either, but he knows moving the bear will wake you. Perhaps you’re exhausted and sleeping hard enough he won’t disturb you. 

He picks the lesser of two evils, lifting the bear. He curses silently when your body shoots up as soon as the bear slips from your grasp. 

“No!” You shout, almost like an angry child having their toy taken away. It’s a desperate sound, a shocking one, ringing loud in the silence. You’re reaching for the bear, trying to tug it from his hands. 

“Easy, easy.” He says, putting his hand on your arm, your movements slowing to a stop as his touch brings back to reality. “I’m just moving him.” He shifts the bear to your other side, your body rolling to follow it. 

He climbs into the bed, barely managing to fit on the mattress. It’s a tight squeeze with the two of you and the bear, but he’ll manage it. He’s slept in tighter places. He slips an arm under you, the other reaching across you to settle on the bear. 

“Tight squeeze with the three of us.” He says quietly, trying to ease some of the tension. 

“Need bigger beds.” You murmur, voice slightly muffled from where your face is pressed against the bear. 

He chuckles quietly. “I won’t argue with that. Perhaps someday.” 

You shift slightly at his words, obviously not expecting him to continue your conversation from earlier this week. He normally tried to avoid thinking too far into the future. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up for something he might never get to have. Or, at least he used to feel that way. 

Things have changed. 

“I used to think this job would be all I did.” He continues, speaking almost to himself. “I’d never grow old enough to retire. Someday I’d die in the field and that was good enough for me. Then, of course, things changed. Had those three other muppets to worry about.” He slips his arm from the bear to wrap around your stomach. “Then another little muppet got added. Now I’m thinking about a nice little cottage by the sea, big enough for five, with a nice flower garden in the front. Just a short walk to the beach, where we can sit and watch the sun set.” 

“White picket fence dreams.” You say quietly. 

“Or at least the British equivalent of that.” He says, a smile tugging at his lips. 

You shift slightly in his arms, pressing back against his chest as you turn as far as you can. “You mean it?” 

“Of course.” He says, his thumb gently rubbing your stomach through your shirt. “Things have changed. Priorities have shifted, and not just for me.” 

He presses his forehead against the side of your head, breathing in the soft scent of your strawberry body wash and the new vanilla scented shampoo Johnny had gotten you. There’s a faint hint of leather beneath your scent, the smell rubbing off from Simon’s shirt you dressed the bear in. He can almost imagine Simon in place of the bear, both of their arms tangling around you as they surround you and keep you safe from the outside world. Just a moment of peace in the hectic violence and chaos of their lives. 

“John?” You say quietly, pulling him from the edge of sleep that had settled in his mind. 

He hums quietly in response, forcing himself back to consciousness again. 

There’s a moment’s pause, a second of silence, and for a moment he wonders if you’re going to speak at all. “Don’t let go.” You finally say, your voice quiet and broken in the silence. 

“Never.” He says, tightening his hold around you. 

John's phone ringing drags you from the light sleep you had managed to slip into. It hasn't been long since you drifted off you think, but then again, it's hard to tell. It's still dark out, and you're still in the same position. John lets go of you to reach for his phone on your nightstand barely managing to grab it at the awkward angle he’s at. 

His voice is rough with sleep as he answers. “Hello?” 

It's quiet for a moment. You can't hear much aside from a male voice on the other side. You can't tell who it is or what they're saying. 

“Good to hear.” He says, slipping into the Captain again. 

Something stirs in your stomach as you try to listen, try to catch who it is. Just one word, just one hint. 

“I'm sure.” There’s another pause, this one feeling like a lifetime. “I have someone here next to me that would like to talk to you too.”

You nearly elbow John in the stomach in your frantic attempt to turn over. You yank the offered phone from his hand as you lean the top half of your body on his stomach. “Hello?” Your voice wavers as you say it, the emotions beginning to stir within you again. 

There's a second delay before you hear it. “Hello, love.” 

You nearly cry at finally hearing his voice again, the pet name causing a fluttering in your stomach. You've never heard him call you that before. “I missed you.” You finally say, managing to get the words out. 

“That's what I'm hearing.” He says, and you can imagine the lifting of his cheeks under the mask, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles. 

“When will you be back?” You ask. 

“Soon. Won't be much longer.” He says. 

“Be careful.” You say, your breathing shaky. “You better not come back hurt.” You're not sure you could handle it if he came back on a stretcher, or even with a single bandaid. 

“Yes ma'am.” He says seriously, but you can hear the humor in his tone. “I'll try my best.” 

“Good.” You say, wanting to lay there, to listen to him breathing for a while, just so that you know he’s really there, he’s really alright. You know you can’t though, your fingers shaking as you pass the phone back to John. 

He speaks to Simon for a couple more minutes while you lay across his stomach, listening to the rumble of his voice in your ear. Relief is flooding through you after hearing Simon's voice. He's really alright, he's fine, he's coming home. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” John asks after hanging up, his hand coming to rest on your back. 

A thousand words want to come out of your mouth, but you can't get them up past the lump in your throat. “He called me love.” You finally say, replaying the pet name over and over in your head. 

“Did he?” John asks, and you can picture the way his lips turn up in a smile. 

“He's never called me that before.” You say. 

“Well then I'm sure he meant it.” John says. 

You sure hope so. 

It's a week later when you get to stand on the tarmac again, waiting for a plane to land. It's early, the sky clear and the sun just starting to rise over the trees, casting everything in a golden light. It’s so vastly different from how the world had looked when he left, the weather seeming to convey your inner feelings. The rain and darkness a perfect symbol of the dread and pain of him leaving. Now that he’s returning the sun is out and the sky is clear, conveying your relief. You’re beginning to feel again, the ache in your chest beginning to lessen. It’s the most alive you’ve felt since he left. 

You're in a dress today, the yellow sundress that Johnny had bought you. You wonder if he’d done it on purpose, perhaps knowing something you don’t. Despite the sun rising, there’s still a chill in the air, and you had quickly stolen his sweatshirt to cover your bare shoulders. 

You squeeze John's hand as the plane comes in to land, watching it approach in eager anticipation. You're going to hug him tightly, throw your arms around him and refuse to let go until you have no choice. You're going to give him the greeting he deserved weeks ago when they all came back. 

He's like a magnet, halfway down the ramp when you start approaching, moving without even thinking. He's in his full mask, the one with the half skull sewed to it. He looks dangerous and deadly, the true visage of a Ghost, but you approach without fear, without hesitation. Underneath all of it you know there’s Simon, the man you’ve quickly fallen in love with. 

You're ready to hug him, to feel him again, to wrap yourself around him like you could sink right into his body. 

You're not prepared for what he does next. 

One of his hands reaches up, the fabric of his gloves rough on your skin as he grips your chin, his thumb on one side, digging into your jaw, the other four fingers on the other side holding your head still. His other hand pulls his mask up over his mouth, giving you a glimpse of his stubble and chapped lips. 

You don't get to look long as he leans down, pressing his lips to yours. 

It's like time freezes as he kisses you, your skin erupting in goosebumps, and it's not from the cold air. You weren't expecting this, your brain trying to catch up, to process that this is really happening, that this is real. 

He tilts your head to the side, deepening the kiss as he leans closer into you. Your hands reach up, closing around the sleeves of his jacket. He's real, he's really here, and he's kissing you. 

The moment likely doesn't last more than 30 seconds, but it feels like forever as his lips move against yours. It might be cliche to say fireworks are going off, but that may have just been the engines of the plane shutting down.  

He finally pulls away from you, his hand still gripping your jaw. You could melt into a puddle right there, his eyes speaking volumes of what's going on in his head. He's done a lot of thinking in his time away. You wonder how many thoughts you've shared over the last two weeks. 

“Should have done that before I left.” He says, his voice rough, but just as you remember. 

Tears prick behind your eyes as you stare up at him. His fingers are digging into your jaw, but you don’t care. He’s here, he’s back, he’s safe, and he just kissed you like you’d wanted to before he left. 

“I wish you had.” You say, as he slowly releases your jaw, his hand brushing your throat before it drops to his side. You let out a shaky breath before throwing your arms around him, holding onto him tightly. 

“What are you doing?” He says, taking you back all those weeks ago to when you hugged him the first time. There’s no confusion in his tone now though, instead there’s an amused lilt to it. 

“Giving you the hug you deserve so you don't get mad at me.” You say, your voice slightly muffled from your face being squished against his chest.

“You think I'd get mad about not getting a hug after kissing you?” He asks, patting your back. 

“Just making sure.” You say, his chuckle reverberating in your ear. 

You don’t release him as he begins to walk to where the others are, keeping your arms wrapped around him tightly. He greets the others, Johnny squishing you between them as he hugs his alpha. You don't care as Ghost's armor digs into your body, it's just a reminder that this is real. He's really here. This isn’t a dream. 

He's really back. 

You sit between Simon and Johnny in the back seat of the car. It's a tight squeeze between the two, but you don't care one bit. Johnny's hand rests on your thigh as John drives back to the barracks. Perhaps you’re still reeling a bit from the kiss, or perhaps it’s Simon’s scent, but you want to push Johnny’s hand higher, hike up your dress and hope Simon gets a peek at what's waiting underneath. You won’t though. You want him to be comfortable. You want your first moments of intimacy to be just the two of you, something special. 

Dread begins to fill you again as the car rolls to a stop outside the barracks. You know what to expect now, having gone through it once before. He’s not truly back, he still has to leave you again. At least this time, you have the others. 

“I'll see you soon.” Simon says, squeezing your arm. 

“Hurry back?” You stare up at him. 

“As fast as I can.” He says, the corners of his eyes crinkling. 

You're tempted to kiss him again, but you don't want to push his boundaries. Sure, he had kissed you, but it could have been a fluke, a one time thing born out of desire and time spent apart. 

You won't care if he never kisses you again. At least you know what it feels like. 

Thankfully he makes the decision for you as he turns his body slightly towards you, as much as he can in the tight space. He lifts the bottom of his mask, leaning down to kiss you again. You purr against his lips, your scent exploding in the car like a smoke bomb. 

Johnny lets out an extensive curse as he fumbles for the door handle, forcing it open in an attempt to escape the sudden onslaught. Kyle is quick to follow, allowing more air in to disperse the intensity of your scent in the confined space. John rolls his window down, lighting a cigar, trying to do anything to keep your scent from going straight to his head. 

You feel giddy and almost proud as Simon places one last soft peck against your lips. You don’t want to let him go, but you know you have to. He’s not quite yours yet. He still has more of his job to do before then. 

Always the job first. 

Your lips are still tingling as you walk into the barracks, your heart still fluttering in your chest. Johnny is staring at you, almost walking sideways. You glance at him out of the corner of your eye, your face warming. 

“What?” You ask, finally looking at him. He’s wearing that stupid, smug grin on his face again.

“Been a long time since I've seen him like that” He says, squeezing your arm gently. “Not since his first romp with Kyle.” 

You turn to look at the other beta behind you who simply shrugs. “What can I say? No one's immune to my charm.” He gives you a dazzling smile. He’s not wrong, his smile causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach. 

“Cannae wait to see him glowin’ after his first taste of our sweet omega.” Johnny says, backing you against the wall. 

“Yeah, well, you might be waiting forever for that.” You say, stopping his approach with a hand on his chest. 

He tilts his head at you, his brows furrowing. “What do ye mean, kitten?” 

“I'm not even sure he's going to want that, much less if he'll do it.” You shrug. The thought has been going through your mind despite the kiss in the car. Though he’s kissed you twice, that’s a big leap to make, a leap you might never make. 

Johnny snorts at your response. “Kitten, he's been holdin’ himself back for weeks. He's just worried he may...be too much for ye.”

You give Johnny a look. “I can handle you, can't I?”

Johnny grins. “Aye, but this is...different. He's not gonnae make the first move. If ye want it,” He leans in closer. “Yer gonnae have to do it yourself.”

“Well,” You slip under his arm, nearly making him faceplant on the wall. “Then I best save my stamina for him, then.” 

Kyle laughs, patting Johnny's back. “Set yourself up for that one, mate.”

You peel off Johnny's sweatshirt, adjusting the top of your dress before tossing his sweatshirt to him. “I'll see you both later.” You give them a smirk before turning on your toes, heading back to your room. 

Johnny curses quietly behind you, and you just know his eyes are glued to your ass. 

Johnny’s words replay over and over in your head as you go through your day as usual. Simon had returned to the barracks, going straight to his room to shower. You had been tempted to step into the hallway, to wait for him, but you know he’s not free yet. He still has paperwork to do, which you know from experience that could take a long time. 

Thankfully, that gives you plenty of time to think about what you’re going to do. You're going to have to make the first move, but what if you move too fast? How do you even broach the subject? 

“Hey Simon, welcome back. Would you like to rearrange my guts?” 

“I cried the whole time you were gone, would you like to make me cry for a different reason?”

“Bend me over and fuck me like a real alpha.”

You facepalm at your own thoughts. You could just slowly initiate it. Start with touches, getting closer, more kisses. Leave yourself open to him in hopes he gets the message, that he pushes past that boundary and finally fucks you like he wants to. 

Heat blooms in your stomach, sinking between your legs. You're all worked up and he’s only kissed you twice. Johnny’s words don’t help the fantasies in your mind. He’s scared you won’t be able to handle him. A shiver runs down your spine at the thought. He’s a big man. You know, you’ve felt it before. It’s hard not to, with some of the positions he’s put you in during your training, nothing but those grey sweatpants and his underwear as a barrier. 

You wonder how he'll do it. Bend you over so you won't see his face? Keep the mask on and put you on your back so you can hold eye contact with him? Or will he finally take the mask off, finally let you see his face? 

You assume the others have seen it, so when will it be your turn? 

It’s not until after dinner when you hear footsteps down the hall. Johnny had gotten food for Simon who was still deep in his paperwork when you left for the mess. Despite his absence at the table still, it had felt less gaping, less like a black hole threatening to suck you all in. He’s back, he’s here. Soon he’ll fill that empty space again. 

You try to stop yourself from running out of your room when the steps get closer. You’re not even sure it’s him. You don’t want to disappoint the others if you leave your room so excitedly in the hopes that they’re Simon. So instead, you stay seated on the edge of your bed, staring at your unlocked door. You want him to open it, to step into your room, but you know he won’t. He’s never been in your room. The furthest he’s entered is your doorway. 

You’ll have to make the first move. 

Your stomach nearly leaps out of your body as the boots stop in front of your door. You hold your breath in anticipation, too scared to move, too scared to throw open the door and risk your excitement being too much. You might push him away in your eagerness, but you’re not sure you can hide it much longer. You’d let him bend you over with the door open, hell, you’d let him take you in the hallway. 

One step at a time. One step at a time. 

You repeat it over and over in your head as you push yourself off your bed, moving to the door. He’s not going to knock, he’s going to wait for you to open it, for you to remove that barrier between you. He’s giving you the chance to change your mind, to go back, to call the two kisses enough and draw the line where you want it. 

The doorknob is cold in your sweaty hand as you grasp it, turning it slowly. The gavel is falling, the slow opening of the door marks the finality, the crumbling of the final barrier. There’s no going back. The bond is too strong, the line has been removed completely. 

You stare up at Simon as the door swings as far as it will open. His eye black is gone, washed off in the shower revealing the pale skin underneath. He smells good, cleaner than he had on the tarmac. You can smell it despite the space between you. Under the smell of his generic soap you can pick up his natural scent. Leather and eucalyptus and the musk of alpha. You want to drown yourself in it, rub it all over your skin until your own scent is gone. 

“Hi.” You say, goosebumps forming across your skin from the intensity of his gaze. You’d forgotten how sharp it is, how easily he can peel away your layers as he stares at you. 

“Hi.” He says, his voice rumbling deep in his chest. You’d forgotten how deep it really is, the roughness around the edges harsher than usual, but you expected that. They had all been a bit hoarse after returning from their group deployment. 

You continue to stare at him, lost in his earthy gaze. The hole in your chest has lessened to almost nothing, slowly the bond repairing itself just from the knowledge he's here, he’s standing in front of you. He’s real. 

You clear your throat, smoothing your hands over your dress. His eyes drop, following the movement. “I thought you'd want to rest.” It's the first thing you can think of to say, speechless in his presence. He must be tired. 

“I slept on the plane.” He shrugs. 

“Yeah, but surely a real bed is a relief.” You say. You’d half expected him to retreat to his room, seeking out a comfortable bed. They’re not all that comfortable, but compared to what he probably was sleeping on these last couple weeks, it must feel like heaven. 

“Probably is.” He says, his gaze shifting back to your face. 

You sink your teeth into your lip as you stare up at him. You’re testing the waters, pushing into new territory as the last walls of the barrier crumble around you. “You could go rest.” You say, shifting on your feet, giving him the option to turn away, to change his mind. “I’m sure you missed your bed.” 

He’s still as a statue as he looms in your doorway, his frame filling it easily, making you feel small. “I'd rather relax in yours.”

Your face warms at his words, not expecting him to say that. The warmth pooling in your stomach intensifies, your heart fluttering in your chest. You’re not sure what happened during his assignment, what caused such a drastic change. You want to know what went through his head, what he was thinking about. Did he picture you at night when he got a moment to rest? Was he imagining you there with him, curled up against him? Or was he picturing you in other positions? 

You might never know, just another secret hidden between you. 

A shudder runs through him. You can see it, the slight twitch in his body, his hands closing into fists. He’s responding to you, to your scent. Such power you could hold over him if you were brave enough to try. 

Such power he could hold over you, if he wanted to. 

“You could come in.” You say, taking half a step back in invitation. 

He doesn’t move, still frozen there like a statue. You wonder how he stays so still, but that was probably part of his training. Be as steady as possible while shooting, how to be invisible even in broad daylight. “You're sure?” He finally rumbles out, his foot shifting just a centimeter, but you catch it. 

You shrug. “Why not? You are part of this pack. You could have entered sooner, if you wanted to. I wouldn’t have minded.” 

He hesitates for just a second before moving his foot from the tile and into your room. He pauses there for a moment, watching you, waiting for a reaction. It’s your turn to stay still, staring up at him as he makes the slow transition into your room, venturing into your sacred space, a place he’s never been in before. 

He moves the other foot, taking the first step over that line, pushing himself past that barrier, leaving it crumbling behind him. 

There’s no going back. 

Something shifts inside you as he enters your room, a weight you hadn’t even realized was there lifting off your shoulders. The hole in your chest is gone, the missing piece back in place. All the tumultuous emotions, all the stress and the fear and the anguish is gone. Your room is safe again, complete again with him in it. Tears prick at your eyes as relief floods through you. No one is getting in, no one can get in now, not with him here. You want to hug him, to kiss him again, drag him onto the bed and make him hold you for a while. 

You don’t. You stay still as he takes in your space, his eyes scanning your belongings and your decorations. He’s never truly seen it in the light. The only time he’d stared into it was that morning when you thought maybe someone had broken in, when your fear had fucked with your emotions enough to think they’d truly let someone enter without their knowledge. 

How silly that thought had been. 

His eyes move to your bed, landing on the giant bear wearing his black shirt. Your teeth sink into your lip as you stare at it as well, suddenly thinking you should have removed the shirt, shoving it into your laundry and moving the bear back to your desk. Yet, you want him to see it, want him to see that you tried to comfort yourself in his absence, tried to make a placeholder for him. You won’t need it now, though. Not with the real thing standing in your space. 

He shakes his head as he stares at it, rolling his eyes as he lets out a sigh. “Fucking hell.”

@bobaprint @ashy-kit @anunintentionalwriter @mockerycrow @protokosmonaut

@fruitymoonbeams-blog @blue-blue0 @hindi-si-ikay @thatonepupkai @redwites

@kattiieee @141trash @lothiriel9 @dillybuggg @beebeechaos

@konigsmissedbeltloop @kaoyamamegami @idkkkkkkk8363 @wallwriterstuff @smile-child-13

@anomiatartle @dangerkittenclaws @bless-my-demons @mystic60 @evolutionarry

@red-hydra @lunaetiicsaystuff @linaangel @codsunshine @thriving-n-jiving

@slayerx147 @ferns-fics @spicyspicyliving @cityoffallencrows @ttsbaby01

@heeheehoohoohahahihi @sleepyoriana @ihatethinkingofnames10 @cassiecasluciluce @darling006

@sheep-from-rad @ohgodthebogisback @willow-sages @scythemood @daniblogs164

@mirzamsaiph @xlxnq @chickennn-soupp

#call of duty #call of duty fic #task force 141 x reader #tf 141 x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #john price x reader #captain price x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz x reader #a/b/o #omegaverse #alpha/beta/omega dynamics

[ihopeiexplode]

📱 “confessions” [←Previous | Next→]

—

It's been weeks. No matter how hard he tries to make up for what he said nothing's changing it's frustrating him so much. Why won't you go back to how you used to be whenever you two hung out? Did his words affect you that much?

Not only that, whenever you two are together your always silent, you always talk about something whether it be about your day, your interests, or anything that comes into your mind, but now whenever you two hang out you barely speak to one another

He hates it. He misses hearing your voice, he misses hearing your laugh, he misses spending time with you like how you used to before

He's tired. He wants to know what's bothering you that much. But he knows you won't say anything.

—

—

Once you reached there you slowly approached Sukuna feeling skeptical, why would he want you here for no explanation whatsoever?

As you stood in front of him you could notice he felt irritated and pissed

"so what do you need?"

"what does Yuji have that I don't?"

"what?"

"how come you hang out with him more than me? You are supposed to hang out with me, not him. He's not your partner for this project i am"

"so how come you spend more time with him instead of me? Not to mention you're always laughing and smiling whenever you two hang out."

After he said that you'd sigh before running your hand through your hair before staring back at him with a obvious scowl on your face

"does it really matter if we don't spend that much time with each other? Like you said we don't have to necessarily befriend each other for this project, it's useless if I end up mistaking our relationship for friends because as you said, you'll just stop talking to me and we'll be back to how we were after this is over"

"so tell me Sukuna, why does it bother you so much that I'm treating you differently than how I used to?"

With that, he just clenched his fist before stepping closer to you

"Isn't it fucking obvious that I like you y/n? Are you this oblivious? I liked you for years, since middle school to be exact, do you really think I'd make such an effort to plan hangouts you like if I hated you? I did all of this just so we could end on good terms so at least I'd have a slight chance to be with you."

"I said all of that stuff back then only because I didn't know how to Express my feelings. I know no matter how hard I'll try you'll never love me back, I know no matter how hard I chase after you, you won't ever look my way."

"I know no matter how hard I fucking try to move on I can't. No matter how hard I try to tell myself I don't like you I know deep down I do."

After he finished his little rant he stepped back before realizing he said more than he should've. Then he looked at you only to see your eyes widening

"you can't be serious right?"

"I am."

"..."

—

[⛩️] @: Likes & Reblogs R appreciated! ^^

A/N: short part ik 💥💥🔥‼️ I also realized how I'm almost done with those series should I make another one when I'm finished w denial

Taglist: @catobsessedlady @hellomeow12 @0-candlecove-0 @shivzypuff @swirlingcurses @1-800-choke-that-ho @attackonnat @chilichopsticks @getoxmahito @memenojutsu @uhnanix @ichorstainedskin @needtoloveoutloud @love-me-satoru @s-j320 @allthestarsarecloserrrrrrr @goj0sunglasses @svtvrnal @haitanibros0007 @punkhazardlaw @mslydiaa @jayathelostdragon @caileysdead @rixyaaaa @minzxec @rzcnlb

#jjk smau #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna x you

[15minlatewithbatbucks]

"Sometimes I forget they're gone."

Bruce looks up from work - a crossword he's doing to pass time until the gas chromatography finishes - and over to where Tim is rolling back and forth in front of a secondary terminal. The steady squeak of his chairs back wheel was almost meditative in a way. He stared up at a blank screen, face only illuminated in profile by the gentle glow of Bruce's own terminal.

"Who is?" Bruce asked when Tim didn't elaborate. For all that this was functionally his home now, the boy had a tendency to occupy space in a way that made Bruce's jaw ache from biting his tongue.

"My parents." Tim stopped rocking and the Cave was as silent as a grave between them. One grave in particular. "Like, something happens and I think, oh, Mom would love to hear about this. Or Dad would get all huffy and rant over something silly and it would be fun to listen to."

Tim, who loved his parents and, arguably was loved in return. He spent most of his time in his room or the Cave, exploring other rooms in the Manor like his parents did archeological sites. Interesting to him, but not a place to be.

"Sometimes I pick up the phone and get as far as putting in their international number, you know?"

Tim, who was parented through phone calls and post cards. Tim, who spent so much of his life in boarding schools that an actual home looked more like a museum than a place to live.

"I'm sorry, bud," Bruce murmured. There wasn't much else he could say, aside from reminding Tim that his father was still alive. Comatose, hanging in limbo, but alive.

Bruce thought it would be easier if Jack Drake died with his wife. Bruce also hated himself for thinking those kinds of things.

"I just keep thinking about Mohenjo-daro," he continued. "We're learning about it in school this unit and I keep remembering- I keep remembering that Dad said he's been there. I can't keep the dates right in my head and he would have helped."

"I can give it a shot," Bruce offered even though he knew it was the wrong thing to do now just as it had been the wrong thing to do when he offered to find a Romani language tutor for Dick when he realized he was forgetting things.

It would solve one part of the problem, but it would never replace the help a father could give.

Tim turned towards him, pale face washed out in stark relief under the light from behind Bruce. He wondered if Tim could even see his face in the relative darkness and found a cowards courage knowing he couldn't.

"He told me a story about it once," Tim said. "I can't remember the ending. I can't remember what he told me. Why didn't I listen better?"

Bruce had no answer for him. He set his paper aside and opened his arms.

Dick would have thrown himself at Bruce, taking comfort where and when he could. Jason would have slunk over and did his level best to press close enough to cave in Bruce's chest and make himself a home.

He was, in hindsight, too good at that.

Tim always hesitated. Weighting the pros and cons? Overthinking a simple comfort offered freely? Bruce never knew.

Still, Tim slowly abandoned his squeaking chair. He let Bruce tug him in for a hug.

Tim was older than Dick had been, around the same age as Jason. Even so, in moments like this he seemed immeasurably younger. Tim, cast off in a prestigious boarding school, had lived comparatively untouched by life's hardest lessons. He signed up for the work, but he couldn't have known how hard it would be. Bruce never should have let him in, but what could he do now? Tim came to him when he needed a partner the most and he was so, so grateful even as regret threatened to choke him.

A beep, then. Bruce's eyes drifted upwards.

"The drugs we lifted from the Iceberg Lounge?" Tim asked against Bruce's neck.

"Yes."

"Show me."

Bruce let Tim out from the protective circle of his arms and did so. The moment lay broken behind them, like so many others.

#tim drake #bruce wayne #batfamily #batfam #wrote on my phone because im obsessed with how tims life shaped him #i think Janet and Jack loved Tim AND they werent super great parents #they send post cards to tell him their plans changed and are prone to fighting so relentlessly he know the drama from boarding school #his relationship was long distance and the absence had to have been felt in such strange ways #they were letters on a page and a voice on the phone and they loved him #oh right i forgot #my writing tag

[tomssexdoll]

PLZ ANGST, nd how the story goes is ur choice!

Guess who's back, back again

"Tom what the fuck?! You can't just come back into my life after I've finally found someone who can make me as happy as you could!"

PAIRINGS: Tom 2010 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Y/N has escaped from her gang life and has been living with her boyfriend of 3 years, she was only 17 when she escaped from Tom and the gang, leaving her dangerous past behind her. Then, one day she gets a call from a random number, she thinks nothing of it until she picks up and hears his familiar, haunting voice.

A/N: i hope you guys like this!!! <3

WARNINGS: dom!tom, reader!sub, p in v (riding and doggy), rough kissing, hickeys, pulling hair, light arguing, mentions of violence, drugs, etc

I used to be in a gang, I was only 15 when I joined, my boyfriend Tom being the leader. We did stupid, irresponsible shit. Stealing cars, threatening people, robbing stores, etc. I loved that life at the time, it was like a rush for me, it was exciting, nothing like the life I had before it.

My parents were worried sick most of the time, I'd be gone for days and return drunk, high or covered in cuts and bruises. Me and Tom really did love each other, that's what made it so hard to leave.

We met when we were 14, he was quite a badly behaved student, known for smoking and drinking and starting fights, stealing and shooting things.

I don't know what it was but I just fell in love with him, the second we locked eyes it's like the world stopped, I could tell he felt the same way, the way his eyes softened as he looked at me.

He had a really bad childhood, his father was an addict and blew all their money on drugs and booze, leaving them to starve for days. His mother abused him and his twin brother Bill. Tom always looked after Bill, even at school, Bill was bullied heavily but Tom always had his back and I did too.

Bill was never interested in the whole gang life, he stayed far away from it while still having a close relationship with his brother. I loved how close they were, how they had that love for each other despite never been shown it growing up.

He was a runaway, he left home around 50 times in the span of a year, always being dragged back by the cops. We formed a friendship after months of passing notes to each other in class, everyone could sense the tension from a mile away, the way I'd stutter when talking to him or the way he'd just stare as I walked by.

I still remember the day we first kissed each other, we were at some ratty corner shop trying to buy cigarettes from the cashier, his friends were inside while we were flirting outside. He grabbed me face and kissed me softly, nothing like I expected from him, the tough gangbanger he made himself out to be.

I knew that wasn't the real him, I wanted him to just let go of it but he could never do it, he always would run back to the gang life, dragging me with him. I eventually joined his gang when I was 15, robbing and starting fights with them, everyone at school being scared of us.

The teachers would just look at me with sadness in their eyes, I never understood why, weren't they scared? Now of course I know it was because they saw a model student turn into something they feared the most.

My first everything was with Tom, we had so much fun together, so much love for each other. Even when we'd fight we'd usually end up fucking or cuddling for the whole night. Our relationship wasn't healthy at all, we fought a lot, mostly because of my jealousy issues and his possessiveness. We'd go at each other for the silliest things.

He wasn't scared of anyone, he would quite literally square up to a guy who was a foot taller than him, this is only because he was very good at fighting, he trained since he was little because of his abusive parents, wanting to prove to them he wasn't worthless.

I really did love him, I loved the risks, the gang life, the violence and the drugs but I couldn't do it anymore. I knew I'd end up dead or in jail and I didn't want my future to be on the line just for a boy.

At the age of 17 I finally left, it was the middle of the night and we were in one of our usual spots, sleeping in a random house. I snuck out and just ran for it, running as fast as my legs could hold me, running until my lungs gave out.

I made it to my house, quickly packing some things and stealing some money from my parents. I wrote a quick note to them and added my contact details if they wanted to stay in touch.

And with that, I left, I got on the nearest train and just left, going anywhere it would take me. I just had to stay hidden, not let him find me.

Then, when I had settled into my new life I met someone, after 6 months I moved into his place and we got engaged. I was so happy, forgetting about everything that had happened, my life amazing and better.

Then, one day, 4 years after I ran away, I got a call. It was from an unknown number so I just stepped outside the house, wondering who was calling. I figured it was a scam call and wanted to mess with them, but when I picked up, his voice was the only thing I heard.

I froze, all the memories coming back. How the fuck did he find my number? After nearly half a decade he found me? What was I supposed to do, I can't go back to that life.

"Baby?" he said, his voice deep. "To-...Sorry..uh, I think you have the wrong number," I said, my voice shaky with every word that came out of my mouth. "Don't bullshit Y/N, I just...I've missed you," he sighed.

"I left for a reason Tom, you know I couldn't stay," I felt tears welling up in my eyes, all the love I had for him returning just at the sound of his voice. "I know liebe, but I can't stand seeing you with that guy you're with, I want you back, I need you," his tone was desperate, almost urgent.

"Tom no, it's too risky!" I grunted, "too bad, I'm in your city and I need to see you, just at least once, please," he begged, the sound of his sports car echoing from the phone.

"Tom what the fuck?! You can't just come back into my life after I've finally found someone who can make me as happy as you could!" I yelled, tears falling down my cheeks.

"Don't cry baby, you know I hate to hear you upset.." he sighed, "I'm pulling up to your house now," he said before hanging up, not letting me get a word in.

I heard his car roaring through the neighbouring streets until he approached my house, the tires screeching as he came to a halt. As he got out my eyes widened, he looked so different now.

He used to have his dreadlocks, his baggy clothes but now, his head was covered in black cornrows, his body covered with dark blue jeans and a black jacket. A black and white bandana wrapped around his forehead.

With every step he took toward me my heart rate went crazy, basically ready to jump out of my chest and run away. "T...tom..." I breathed out, my jaw hanging low on the floor.

"Oh my god, you're beautiful.." he approached me, towering over me and taking in my features. "My boyfriend is home Tom..you can't be here!" I gritted through my teeth, checking around to see if he was looking.

"Shut up, just come with me, I don't give a fuck about your stupid boyfriend," he grabbed my arm, dragging me to his car. "Tom!" I called out, trying to get him off me but his grip only tightened, his fingers digging into me.

He shoved me into the passanger seat, wrapping around the car and getting into the drivers side, speeding off. "Where the fuck are we going Tom, I didn't even agree to this, you better not be taking me back, you know I can't go back!" I whined loudly, "just be quiet! I'm just trying to find a quiet spot," he grunted, his patience wearing thin.

After a while he found a random empty parking lot, parking in the middle and turning to me, "I don't get it, how could you leave, just like that?" I could tell he was getting angry, "did you even care, did you even love me?"

"Of course I fucking did Tom! You don't know how hard it was to leave, for weeks after I left I cried non stop, missing you, hoping one day things could work out and we would be back together, don't act like I never cared you know I did!" I raised my voice, offended at his accusations.

"Calm down..fuck..I was just worried ok?" he reached out and took my hand in his, our eyes locking. "Tom we can't...I'm with him, this isn't right.." I knew I had to pull away but I just couldn't.

He slowly leaned in, wrapping his hand around the back of my head and pulling me closer, smashing his lips into mine. "Mmm! Tom!" I gasped, pulling away.

"Just come here for fuck sakes, I know you want me as much as I fucking want you," he growled, grabbing me by my waist and pulling me into his lap.

"Do you know how hard I've tried to move on? I've been with so many girls but they aren't you!" he held my face, forcing me to look at him. "Tom.." "No! I'm not going to let you go, I can't lose you again, do you know how hard I've worked to find you? I'm not throwing it away!" he yelled, "fine! For fuck sakes if you want me so badly here!" I grabbed his face and kissed him again, our lips locking in a rough and passionate embrace.

"Mmm!" I moaned, Tom sliding his tongue into my mouth and exploring every inch. He tugged at my clothes, practically ripping them off me, leaving me nude on his lap.

I pulled away from the kiss, taking his jacket and shirt off, his toned body revealed, lined with sweat. I hovered over him as he took his jeans off, letting them pool at his feet on the car floor.

He was left in his boxers, his cock straining against them, begging to be freed. I sat back down on his lap, my bare pussy grinding against his clothed cock, stained with pre cum.

"Mmm...baby.." he groaned, holding my ass while he kissed me passionately. He grinded up into me, the big buldge rubbing against my clit, driving me wild.

"Ohh fuck!" I whined, burying my face into his neck, rubbing my cunt over his buldge repeatedly, feeling myself getting wetter and wetter.

He reached down and finally took his cock out, freeing it from it's confines. I gasped as I saw his size, it was way bigger than before, growing 2 inches and gurthier. "Tom, how the fuck am I going to handle that, jesus!" I whined, he chuckled, "just relax baby, let me do all the work," he pushed my head back into his neck, rubbing the head of his cock through my folds, collecting the wetness.

He gripped my hips, thrusting upwards and entering me in a swift, hard movement, leaving me gasping at the sudden flood of pleasure. His grip tightened as he began to move, "fuck..you like that schatz?" he groaned lowly, picking up his pace and fucking me harder.

His hips slammed into mine with almost violent force, enough to make the car shake around me. His thrusts became more desperate as he heard my loud moans, I leaned back and let my tits bounce wildly close to his face.

He watched in awe, his cock throbbing in me and his hands reaching out to grab them, squeezing them roughly as his cock pounded into me. "Ohhh shit!" I whined, throwing my head back. He kept slamming me back into him in a harsh rhythm, his own pleasure becoming too much to handle.

"You're mine, always will be and always have, that fucker won't fuck you as good as I do," he growled lowly, sending chills down my spine. "Y...yes Tom!" I moaned loudly, he eyes practically gleamed at my reponse, the virile satisfaction flaring up in him.

His thrusts became even more frantic, his eyes closing as he possessively grips my tips tighter, almost bruising as he slams me back against him again and again.

The wet sounds of our bodies meeting filling the car, piercing our ears. "God..I'm not gonna last much longer, you're just too fucking good!" he whined, feeling my pussy tighten around him.

"Me too...fuck! So close!" I cried out, rolling my eyes back as the pleasure hit me like a truck, shockwaves coursing throughout my body. He continued to thrust into me, the car now shaking intensely from his rough movements, his own orgasm building rapidly alongside mine.

"Fuckk!" I practically screamed, my pussy clamping around his cock as my orgasm crashed down, triggering his own release. "Shit!" he moaned loudly, spilling himself inside my sopping cunt, coating my walls with his thick cum.

He grunted in satisfaction as he continued to slowly thrust into me, riding out the waves of my orgasm with his own. "Fuck..that was amazing schatzi.." he panted heavily, his hands gripping my ass tightly.

"I wanna feel you cum on my cock again...get in the back," he commanded, I instantly obeyed, crawling into the backseat and bending over, waiting for him.

He got out of the car and quickly slipped into the back, closing the door behind him. He didn't waste anytime and slid his cock into my wet, needy heat with a low groan.

He gripped my hips again, beginning to thrust into me roughly, savouring the feeling of my tight pussy squeezing around him in reponse to his touch.

He couldn't resist reaching forward and grabbing my hair, pulling it roughly, "that's it, take my cock," he smirked, pounding into me roughly, hitting my g spot with such force I thought I would explode.

He starts to move faster, slamming into me with such force, nothing compared to my boyfriend at home. His grip on my hair tightens as he fucks me harder, making me squirm beneath him.

I arched my back to meet his thrusts, rolling my eyes back at the amount of pleasure I was recieving. "Fucking whore, taking my cock so well.." he grunted, his hand coming down and smacking my ass roughly, leaving a faint red mark.

"Ah!" I yelped in response, he grinned at my reaction, pulling me against his chest, his lips brushing against my ear, "that's right baby, scream and cry all you want," he whispered.

The sound of slapping skin filled the car, his lips moving towards my neck, sucking and biting roughly, leaving huge, dark purple marks all over. He continued to pound into me, his hips moving in a perfect rhythm as he fucks me like there's no tomorrow, a hand coming to my breast and giving it a rough squeeze, almost for encouragement.

His thrusts becoming more rough and dominant as he takes control of me, his balls slapping against my clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout me, my second release dangerously close.

"Gonna cum, keep going!" I cried out, biting down on my lip harshly. He continued to leave rough and sloppy kisses on my neck, migrating towards my shoulders, leaving more marks there.

"Cum on this fucking cock, cmon," he roared, his cock buried deep inside me as he fucks me viciously, throbbing wildly, signalling his impending orgasm.

With one hard thrust I was sent into oblivion, cumming on his cock again, a clear liquid streaming from my cunt and onto the leather seats. "Ohh you messy girl.." he chuckled, continuing to thrust into me, trying to drive more orgasms out of me.

His method worked, my pussy streaming with the clear liquid again, "ohhh fuck.." he growled, once again emptying himself in me, painting my insides white.

"Fuck.." he panted, sitting down and grabbing me, pulling me onto his lap, letting our highs die down. "Jesus christ..." he chuckled, kissing the top of my head softly. "You did so well mein liebe, missed this pussy so much.." he mumbled, pulling out slowly, careful to not overstimulate me.

After calming down he held me in his arms, carrying me back to the front seat and helping me get dressed again, "how about we rent a hotel for the night, see what to do from here, hm?" he lifted my chin, making me look at him.

I nodded, barely conscious after he just fucked me dumb. "Good girl.." he chuckled, letting me sit in his lap as he drove off.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @ballhair @kaulitzsbabyy

tags: @kaulitzswhxre @cosmicck @bkaulitzlover

tags: @20doozers @tomsonlyslut @ge-billsgf

tags: @miyukafujii @ella1289

#tomssexdoll #tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #smut #tom kaulitz x reader #tom kaulitz x y/n #tom kaulitz x you #tom smut #tom kaulitz fanfic #tom kaulitz tokio hotel #i love tommy #i love tom #tomkaulitzmakesmecum #tomkaulitzissobaeomg #tomkaulitzeatmypussy #tomkaulitztokiohotel #tokio hotel #ilovetomkaulitzmybfomg #ilovetomkaulitzhessobaeiwanthimtofuckmerightnow #wet and gushy #wet and needy #soaking wet #wet ass pussy #tokio hotel smut #rough smut #smutty smut smut #tom kaulitz angst

[veronae-buddie]

So, since I only rejoined Tumblr recently but have written over 70 Buddie Fics, I decided I would share some favourites from pre-Tumblr days.

These are among my favourite fics of the ones I've written, not necessarily the ones with the highest traffic. In no particular order...

Cabin Fever Bobby treats the 118 crew to a holiday in a mountain cabin. There's just one issue ... it's haunted. At least, Buck thinks so. Eddie isn't so sure. 6.7 k, M

Drugged Eddie A work injury sees Eddie in hospital doped up on some strong pain meds. Confused and dozy, he says some things that Buck just can't let go of. Featuring! That red t-shirt they appear to share now. 4.6 k, T

Pillow Talk Buck agreed, “That leaves you in the bed with me, Eddie.” Snapping his eyes around, Eddie gaped at him. “Wait, what?” Eddie, Hen and Chimney agree to stay with Buck during Covid-19 restrictions to keep their families safe from the spread of infection. But Eddie gets a lot more than he bargained for when he ends up having to share Buck's bed... 16k, M

Insomnia “Were you being serious the other night?” Eddie blurted. He looked wild, eyes round and red-rimmed, feet planted wide as he stared frantically at Buck. He blinked back, nonplussed, and Eddie raked a frustrated hand across the lines on his brow. “When you offered to go to bed with me!” he snapped. “Oh.” Buck took a few steps closer. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need, Eddie. I’m here for you.” 8k, E

Wicked Games Eddie tipped his face away and burning words burst from him before he could even think to stop them: “Tell me you love me.” A ripple coursed through Buck’s body, his muscles tensing against Eddie’s, before his teeth closed on Eddie’s ear and he breathed, ardently, “I love you.” 4.6k, M

And an honorable mention goes to! Go For the Title HOW IT SHOULD HAVE GONE. “You wanna go for the title?” Buck’s hand was on his belt. Eddie deliberately did not look down. The things that flashed through his mind might not stay safely shut away there if he looked at Buck and his hand on his belt. 1.2k, T

Find all my fics on AO3.

Tagging folks who expressed an interest:

@shortsighted-owl @disasterbuck @serensational @blue-winged-boy @emotionallyencumbered

@gnoeltop @inell @verdimundi @darkrose6578 @littleblackraincloudofcourse

@deliriousbean @idealuk @oldfangirl81 @ronordmann

#911 abc #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie #buck x eddie #fanfic #self rec #ao3 writer #fanfic writing #writer things #buddie fanfiction #buddie fanfic

[argisthebulwark]

Did I Find You, Or You Find Me?

summary: Due to forces outside of your control, you've found yourself stuck in an arranged marriage. f!reader, no y/n used. feat: Brynjolf, Miraak, Vilkas, Farkas, Arnbjorn warnings: they're long lol. alcohol consumption, not super healthy relationship dynamics, a bit suggestive a/n: i meant to put some more fellas in here but tumblr was struggling to load this draft so i'll have to do a part two masterlist

Brynjolf

Born as the middle daughter of the Black Briar family you are fully aware of their interactions with the Thieves Guild. You've watched your mother meet with Brynjolf, catching glimpses when you're instructed to carry in stacks of paperwork or clearing away empty wine bottles after a long negotiation. His flirtatious remarks remarks leave you breathless, never going further than a shared smile or brushing shoulders in the hall.

As a middle child, you've often found yourself in an odd position - you're an adult and are expected to handle many responsibilities, yet still infantilized by your siblings. Often forgotten between Sibbi and Ingun's rebellions and Hemming's single minded dedication to the family, you're expected to pick up the pieces without making a fuss.

"We need to solidify our ties with the Thieves Guild." Mother's sharp voice interrupts your dinner. You nod along, picking at your potatoes and planning out the rest of your week. "How old are you now?"

"Twenty four."

"Oh, good!" The excited tone of her voice rouses suspicion. You peek up at your mother, heart ramming against your ribs - she's never taken an interest in your life before. This can lead nowhere good.

You can only hope that silence will make her forget you. Her schedule is usually so full that you're allowed to exist out of her eyeline - taking a few extra moments in the market to flip through some books or visiting Ingun in the alchemy shop to chat. There is joy to be found in those small moments when you escape from her calculated gaze.

Of course this doesn't happen. Before the week is out you find yourself standing in the Temple of Mara, heart in your throat and siblings snickering from the pews. The handsome thief is gentle when he holds your hands, voice a bit shaky as he reiterates every vow back to the priest.

Returning to the Ratways feels odd. You part from your family, ink drying on the many contracts as Brynjolf - your husband - leads you through the Cistern. You feel a bit like you're floating as the events of the day settle on your mind. Panic chokes out all rational thought - who will ensure that the animals are fed and organize the contracts in your absence?

"I'm sorry - this all happened so fast, you may need to show me around once more when my mind stops spinning." You can't recall half of what he's pointed out and your feet are aching. You gulp, staring up at Brynjolf's kind eyes.

"Don't worry, lass." That soft grin makes your heart race when he shows you the private quarters, a small room branching off from the tavern. "We're in the same boat, you've got me."

With each day that passes, that knot in your chest lessens. The anxiety shrinks as you settle into your new life, finding the lack of routine comfortable - no list of chores awaits you, no one calls for you to sit in on meetings. After twenty four years of responsibility it is terrifying to realize that no one expects anyone from you.

Despite all the initial fears you find yourself flourishing. Far from your mother's prying eyes you discover that you enjoy hearing stories from the other thieves, Vex and Delvin teaching you a few tricks and Tonilia offering to scrounge up a set of armor. No longer are you Maven's daughter or Hemming's sister - you are yourself.

Brynjolf maintains a respectable distance, never straying too far but making no moves toward romance. He acknowledges that your partnership is just that - an agreement set forth by others, it is not a true marriage. He joins you for dinner each night, finding himself eager to hear about what you've done that day.

"What did you mean back then?" You finally ask, surprised at how steady your voice has become. Brynjolf's gaze still makes your heart flutter but you no longer feel the need to shrink away from it.

"By what, lass?"

"When you said we're in the same boat."

"Ah." He leans closer, voice conspiratorially low. Your cheeks flush when his fingers dance over yours, barely a touch. "Well, I'm guessin' you weren't exactly excited by the prospect of marrying a stranger, yeah?"

"It wasn't my first choice."

"Wasn't part of my plan, either." You hate how your stomach drops at the admission. Of course you're aware that he hadn't truly wanted you, but that knowledge does little to soothe the sting.

"Delvin's too old and Vex hates dealin' with your mother." His eyes drop to where your fingers have twisted together, the toes of his boots brushing yours. "I didn't plan on it bein' me but I couldn't stomach the thought of anyone else marryin' you."

The weeks blend into months, changes in your life slow but steady. Brynjolf sets aside time each week to teach you how to wield a dagger. Your beds scoot closer and you stay up later talking, candles burning down to nubs while you share every little shred of yourselves. He tells you of this the people he's lost and you share the desperation you've always felt for more, blushing when he jokes about the fulfilling life of a thief.

Your confidence continues to blossom the longer you're away from your family, brave enough to disregard a direct summons from your mother. Somewhere she is steaming, Hemming probably cursing your name at her side. It's freeing to realize how little you care.

"Proud of you, lass." Brynjolf grins when you bounce up to him, excitedly recounting how cool it felt throwing her letter in the fire. His hand is warm when it cups your cheek. "How should we celebrate?"

A bit drunk on your newly found courage, you kiss him. You've thought about it for months, stomach fluttering when you first noticed the way his eyes linger on you. It's quick and your lips tingle a bit when your husband chuckles, already leaning in for another.

Miraak

"All of our efforts to reign in Miraak have failed." Arngeir's eyes pin you in place. Your ass is going numb from those stone seats but there's no escaping this conversation. "Dragonborn, the Jarls continue to call for action."

"I have tried everything to defeat Miraak."

"Yet we remain unsuccessful." Biting your tongue barely contains the multitude of protests. Your body bears scars from the many times you've faced Miraak and his cultists, brain addled by the ages you'd spent combing through Apocrypha's twisting hallways.

"Miraak has a clear interest in you." Borri chimes in, voice hoarse from lack of use.

"He speaks the truth, Dragonborn." Arngeir concurs. "We have formulated a new plan. The Jarls have approved, as have many leaders from Solstheim."

"Wonderful." You grumble, hauling yourself to your feet. Might as well start preparing. "What is this new plan of attack?"

"You will offer yourself to Miraak."

"Your plan is to sacrifice me?" The shrill tone of your voice echoes off the stone walls. "How will my death resolve anything?"

"Not as a sacrifice. As a bride."

Despite your many protests, it seems that Miraak could not pass up an opportunity to get under your skin. He agrees to the proposition - you become his partner and he scales back the attacks on civilians. The rage becomes almost mind numbing. You cannot believe that this plan is being enacted, that your elders are offering you up for the mere promise of peace.

When Arngeir bustles you out the door he instructs you to slay the First Dragonborn. His voice is stern when he informs you that you will not be welcomed back to Skyrim's shores until Miraak is dead. The old men don't listen to a single protest that passes your lips, somberly shaking their heads and claiming that this is the last resort. Their trust is placed in you.

There is no ceremony, no hint of romance - just your stack of books and a bout of seasickness as you're ferried to Solstheim. Cultists meet you at the dock, Raven Rock entirely silent as too many pairs of eyes watch them escort you to Miraak's palace. You walk with your chin held high and pray that no one notices the fear simmering just under your skin.

Miraak's glare tracks each move you make as you prowl through his manor. You keep your distance, intent on finding some hidden weakness that will break him without rousing too much suspicion. You circle one another, neither willing to break the peace and strike first. Even when you are alone he maintains some sort of mask - always obscuring at least half of his face, never giving you a full view.

Meals are silent except for thinly veiled threats. Doors to both bed chambers are locked and barred each night. You find comfort in his library, sprawling shelves holding volumes thought long lost and safe from the mind bending power of Apocrypha. On days when you grow too exhausted to search you tuck yourself away into a secluded corner of the library and read until your eyes can't focus.

"You do not have to hide." Miraak's deep voice shocks you out of your reading. He eyes the stack of books at your side and you feel terribly vulnerable. "This is now your home as much as it is mine."

Clearly displeased with your lack of response, he huffs and walks away. Your brain struggles to catch up - the usual nasty tone of his voice was gone, something almost kind about the way he'd spoken to you. It's disconcerting.

Thankfully, you are too preoccupied with your assignment to notice how deeply he burns for you. You do not see the heat behind his glare or the tension in his body when you drift too near, barely keeping a leash on the gut wrenching desire.

Miraak finds it quite easy to convince himself that he detests you - the flipping of his gut is mere disgust and your permanent place in his dreams is blamed on that damned prophecy. You are too distracted sniffing around for clues to notice how deeply and shamefully he wants you.

"What is it you seek?" His voice nearly stops your heart. Blade aimed for his chest you whirl around, scolding yourself for lowering your guard enough for him to get so close. You pause, gaping at the face he's hidden behind masks for months and fight back the horrible wave of attraction.

The crooked nose, stubble trailing up his jaw, dark eyes glaring down at you. Grey streaks are visible where his hair's pushed away from his forehead. A scar drags through his lower lip, drawing far too much of your attention. Grinding your teeth against the way your cheeks blush, you summon every ounce of vitriol you can.

"None of your business."

"Incorrect. You are in my study."

"What I am searching for does not regard you."

"Doubtful, little dragon." You curse your heart for flipping at that pet name. Miraak's grin is nearly a snarl when he leans closer, unable to keep himself away from you any longer.

For one night, he will release his self control. He will make himself vulnerable if it means he can get a bit closer to you.

Vilkas

As the eldest daughter of a Jarl, your duties never cease. Keeping an eye on your siblings, watching the advisors in preparation for your role, learning from wizards and teachers and warriors alike - it is endless. From a young age you'd intended on caring for your beloved city of Whiterun whether you acted as Jarl or advisor, content with putting in the work for your future.

"We need a foot in the door with the Companions." Proventus' words had roused no suspicion at the time - he'd said similar things about the guild before. "They are unregulated, acting entirely separate from us."

"This is true." Your father had turned to you, heart in your throat at the prospect of proving yourself. You'd fine tuned your political knowledge over the past few years and finally, an opportunity to prove yourself to his court. "Can you be trusted with this task?"

You had no clue what you were agreeing to. You'd anticipated a cordial relationship, that you would be acting as a emissary. You expected to form a diplomatic relationship with the Companions. You'd met a few warriors for training but the prospect of working with them was intriguing, their reputation was equally vicious and respectable.

You try to keep it together for the first meeting. Kodlak Whitemane is intimidating but you stand tall beside your father, chin held high and sword strapped to your side. It has never tasted blood but the advisors had insisted upon you looking your best, presenting yourself as a capable fighter.

Kodlak's warriors appear cleaned up, though you notice the scars - tattoos swirl between the gaps in their armor and wary eyes watching every shadow. The one at his side looks ready to implode; hand wrapped menacingly around the hilt of his sword and dark eyes sweeping over you with barely contained disdain. He sneers, clearly seeing through your carefully placed facade. Your stomach drops when he stands only a few paces from you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

The meeting moves too fast to follow. Kodlak and your father speak in hushed tones, all the other advisors cloistered around them. Notably, you are left out - they must be bartering on your behalf, right? Why else would you be left out of the conversation? Three Companions stand at your side, each appearing equally annoyed.

"May I ask why your folks seem displeased?" You whisper to the man at your side, the one who appears less standoffish than the others. Soft brown eyes blink back at you, a short laugh badly disguised as a cough.

"Surprised you're takin' this so well. We had bets on you running out."

"What?"

"Aela thought you'd last through the discussions. I thought you'd bolt as soon as you saw him. And Vilkas, well he refused to make a bet." The man laughs again, a hand extended toward you. Your head is spinning when the dark haired man walks off in a huff, his anger radiating through the hall.

"Vilkas?"

"Yeah." You follow where he points out the man now shouldering his way into the circle of advisors. "Your new husband."

Despite his initial vitriol, Vilkas is annoyingly formal. He speaks to you as a member of the court - stiff and respectful. He spends little time in your company, taking every assignment offered by his elders to get him out of the city.

You can't say it isn't hurtful. Your union was one of mutual convenience for your families but to see your husband so clearly uninterested wounds you. Your conversations are brief, each focused entirely on whatever business Kodlak has with your father.

You hold your chin high, remaining in your father's home and listening to the advisors fret. Your visits to Jorrvaskr are not unpleasant but there is a notable lack of progress - Aela and Farkas are friendly, Athis slowly warms to you, but it is abundantly clear that they all view you as an outsider. Vilkas can barely remain in the hall, his brother kindly making excuses on his behalf.

Sleeping in your childhood bedroom as a married adult feels strange, though you console yourself with the knowledge that it is not a real marriage. No rings or tender words had been exchanged. It was merely a contract signed by Kodlak and your father on your behalf. You drift off to sleep with the image of Vilkas in your head, wracking your brain for what can be done to smooth things out.

"Hey."

Scrambling for the knife under your pillow, you barely manage to swallow the scream building in your throat. With the blade quivering in your hand you aim it toward your attacker's chest. Vilkas' dark eyes glare down at you, hair mussed and usual armor missing. You blink a few times when turns toward the door.

"Can't sleep. You coming?"

"Coming where?"

"Anywhere but here."

He hardly says a word when you stride out of Dragonsreach. He scoffs at the way you sneak past the guards, dagger still gripped in your hand. You follow him down the chilly steps until you're seated on a bench, backs to the Gildergreen.

"Sorry." He grumbles, dropping his cloak around your shoulders. "Bet you're freezing."

You're too stunned to question it. The cloak smells of him and you find yourself burrowing deeper into it, the first kind move he's made. Vilkas sits at your side, glaring out at the starry sky for what feels like hours.

"What is happening?" You finally ask, glancing over at him. You catch his striking profile, outlined by the silvery moonlight of late night; the sharp bridge of his nose and harsh brows, the lips that look surprisingly soft when they aren't grimacing. Your stomach flips when his eyes slide to you, though they appear uncharacteristically kind.

"Needed to get out for a bit." He shrugs, heaving a sigh. "Figured you could use a break from that place."

It's hard to predict when he will seek you out. Vilkas only appears in the dead of night, often the night before he departs for an assignment. You wander through Whiterun, enjoying the emptiness of the town while he tells you of his recent missions. You are giddy each time he refuses your attempts to return his cloak, wrapping it around your shoulders to walk aimlessly at his side.

Not wanting the conversations to be one sided, you soon find yourself sharing more. Stories of court and your siblings feel boring in comparison but Vilkas seems interested. He remembers names remarkably well, asking after your brother's injured arm weeks after you'd brought it up.

It takes months for you to broach the topic of your future. You've grown comfortable in his company, no longer unsettled by the intensity of his gaze. He is still far from a husband but there is something like friendship blooming between you, an attraction that squeezes at your heart each time he smiles at you.

"I just want to be free." You admit, gazing out over the horizon. As you've spoken the sunrise has begun, rays of pink and orange reaching out to steal the night. You have to return to Dragonsreach soon before everyone else wakes. Despite that reasoning you find yourself leaning into Vilkas' shoulder, heart fluttering when he accepts your touch.

"Free?" He snorts, chin resting on the top of your head. "You're the Jarl's kid, you can do whatever you want."

"I've never made a choice for myself - I didn't even get to choose my husband." Clearly the lack of sleep has loosened your tongue. Vilkas chuckles, a sound that never fails to warm your heart.

"That's fair." He sighs, staring over your shoulder at Jorrvaskr. He's sure that the others have already awoken, chest tight with the unending duties threatening to drown him. "Someday, when we're done solving everyone else's problems, we'll get out of here."

Farkas

Since an early age, you've been warned to stay away from the Companions - their shimmering armor and heroic deeds are inviting but they do not live like you do. Their beast blood is a secret held only by those in the highest ranks, hidden away from the rest of their guild. You've never understood the secrecy but abide by your parents' warnings, heeding the wisdom of your pack.

Numbers have dwindled over the years. Tales told around the long table recount times when your pack commanded Whiterun's rolling plains, hunting and celebrating to their hearts' content. Each generation shrunk - the beast blood not passing on to younger generations and civilization encroaching upon the wilds. Handfuls of families have splintered off, some moving to new Holds while others joined larger packs.

You're fairly certain your hearing must be failing - after ages of warning every wolf off from dealing with the local guilds, your grandmother grimaces around those unbelievable words.

"What?"

"We can no longer survive on our own." She reiterates, your ears ringing. "These lands have been overhunted and new farms claim acres of land every day. Now with the Silver Hand moving into Whiterun," she sighs, gathering herself. Tears prick at your eyes when she rests a wrinkled hand on your shoulder. "Our family has entered an agreement with the Companions."

"Okay." You're struggling to wrap your head around this change but you'll manage - the pit in your stomach for months could finally cease. You know that food sources are growing scarce and numbers are falling but you're still a bit lightheaded at the finality of her statement.

"We've assured their continued support. They cannot back out of this deal."

"How? What do we have to give them?"

"You and some of the others will be married to the younger members of their inner circle."

It's like a punch to the gut. Your marriage is still a handful of years off but you will never forget about it - wondering each day if this is your last before being shackled to the Companions for the rest of your life. Your first meeting happens during a celebratory dinner, your heart in your throat as Kodlak presents the members of his pack.

One boy glowers across the hall and sneers at anyone who dares to speak to him. His brother stands nearby, a friendly smile on his face when Kodlak's hand lands on his shoulder. You can only pray that you aren't partnered with the unpleasant one.

"I'm Farkas." The kind boy introduces himself, calloused hand warm against yours. It takes a moment to remember your name - thankfully, your grandmother pats your shoulder and speaks for you.

"Nice to meet you." You choke out, terrified to be staring into the face of your future husband. His smile comes easily, dimples in his cheeks eyes radiating kindness. Light brown hair is braided out of his face and a broadsword is strapped across his well muscled back.

You spend the night awaiting the horrible stories your elders passed down to come true - that the Companions will shame your way of life or scoff at the state of your hall, but they are amiable. A bit reserved but they do nothing to earn your distrust. They share food and drink hauled down from their hall, listening intently to the stories told by your parents.

Farkas fits in too well. Even after Kodlak and the others stop visiting, contracts signed and goods exchanging hands, Farkas keeps coming. He shows up on your mother's doorstep with an armful of food and brings your siblings presents on their birthdays. Each time he appears you're shocked - this was sold to you as a marriage of convenience, one to fully unite your families. The grin on his face when he teaches your brother how to properly swing a sword or his willingness to help clear the dishes after dinner make you wonder if he was told something different.

Even as the season of your intended wedding approaches you cannot scrape up any distaste for him. You find your heart fluttering when Farkas rolls up his sleeves to help your father chop firewood or falls onto your bed at your side, curiously eyeing whatever book you're reading. You've both grown into a comfortable friendship, choosing to not speak of what awaits you only a few months away.

"Wanna go for a walk?" Farkas offers, eyes sliding your way. Even after all these years he still makes speech difficult, the friendly smile causing your brain to stop functioning. He's asked the question dozens of times but there's something loaded behind his words that makes this feel different. He's so careful when he holds your hand, clearly giving you space to shake him off.

Farkas follows the same path as always around local farms, a pleasant expression on his face but you feel the nerves radiating from him. Perhaps you've just got enough anxiety for you both.

"What's wrong?" You blurt, unable to contain the nerves any longer. Eyes sparkling in the moonlight Farkas turns to you and you're certain the whole valley can hear your heart ramming against your ribs.

"I want to marry you." His voice is uncharacteristically serious.

"That's been arranged since we were kids."

"No, I mean for real." Farkas insists, chilly fingers tracing the shape of your cheek. You've been close to others but nothing has felt like this, no one else has set your skin ablaze with a simple touch.

"I need you to know that I'm not just doing this because Kodlak said to. I want to be here with you, with your family - I want you."

It takes a few minutes to digest that - he wants you. Farkas is patient when you work through that, fingers tightening around yours as he awaits an answer. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you finally voice the feelings you've ignored for years.

"I want you, too."

Kissing him is so easy, it feels natural. He smells like home; the hands cupping your face are stained from helping your parents cook and the scent of your fireplace clings to hair you'd tied back. Farkas kisses you like it's the first time he's taken a breath, needy and desperate. His nose brushes yours before he's pulling back, that comforting smile rousing butterflies in your gut.

The wedding you'd spent years dreading surpasses all your expectations. Farkas cries the moment he sees you, tears streaming down his cheeks when he pledges each day of his life to yours. You pointedly ignore all the vows regarding duty and tradition - you love this man. You've fallen in love with him slowly and without realizing it, loving him a bit more each day you've spent with him. He speaks of his love for you and respect for your family, summoning fat tears in your eyes when he kisses you.

"Thanks for lovin' me." He murmurs into your hair, crushing you to his chest.

Arnbjorn

"You should do it."

"Absolutely not."

"It's the best way to ensure the survival of both our Guilds!" Delvin insists, that smug look on his face. He thinks he's already won. "If we don't come to an agreement, our groups are bound to cannibalize each other. Our customer base and services are too similar."

"All good points."

"Every Jarl is out for our blood and both of our Guilds have recently lost leaders." It's annoying how correct he is. Delvin nudges the ale toward you, clearly urging you to consider. "A partnership would solve nearly all our problems."

"And why can it not be a business partnership?" You ask, accepting the drink. "Your relationship with the Brotherhood has stood since before I even joined the Guild, has something caused you to doubt it?"

"Unfortunately." Delvin's expression sours at that. "Their new leader."

You agree to a meeting with their new leader, expecting the Listener - they've visited a few times when the Brotherhood needed Delvin's aid, most recently during their move to Dawnstar. Your friendship is easy but holds no attraction, certainly nothing that would tempt you into a marriage.

"The Listener isn't their official leader." Delvin corrects you at the last minute, the group of shadows entering the Flagon. "It's the old leader's widower."

He stands before you, intimidatingly tall and muscled. Unimpressed eyes shamelessly comb through the crowd of thieves, white hair braided away from a handsome face. Delvin's elbow nudges yours and your face burns when you stumble over your introduction, clearing your throat before the conversation begins.

It's rough. Their leader, Arnbjorn, clearly lacks his former partner's knack for negotiation. You'd only encountered Astrid a couple times before her death but remembered her way of speaking, calculated with a constant threat in each word. Arnbjorn is much more straightforward, the Listener and Nazir looking a bit uneasy at his side.

"I have no need of a wife." He speaks plainly, earning a glare from his companions. "My hands are full running the Brotherhood and looking after the recruits."

"My thoughts exactly." you concur, though the conversation spirals away from that point once again.

Gods, you feel like this is never going to end. Hours pass and Delvin's sheet of notes has become illegible. The Listener is predictably quiet, taking in everyone's words while Delvin and Nazir hash out the details - where barriers for contracts should be, how to notify the other, who can recruit in what regions. After far too many drinks their words devolve into an obnoxious drone.

You aren't entirely sure anyone notices when you excuse yourself. Maybe a breath of fresh air will clear your head. You're certain that the sun has risen and quite possibly fallen once more since the negotiations had begun, shuffling your way through the Cistern in search of the outdoors.

"Hey."

Two strong fingers grab your elbow just as you're about to climb to freedom. You turn, sucking in a deep breath when you realize that you're cramped into the secret passageway with Arnbjorn. His cheeks are flushed - he's had even more drinks than you, leaning on the wall for support.

"What?" You try to sound sure of yourself despite the distracting closeness of his body. It's troubling how handsome he is. Arnbjorn blinks at you, sucking in a deep breath before speaking.

"I didn't want you to think my protests have anything to do with you." He clears his throat, obviously struggling to speak so plainly. "It's just - my wife passed away. You're very pretty but I have to think about the Brotherhood."

"I understand." You breathe, unable to ignore the way his eyes seem glued to your mouth. He leans a bit closer and you can smell him, smoke and pine and you fight back the wave of attraction.

Kissing him is foolish. You know this. It is a dumb mistake that you cannot stop yourself from making, closing the tiny distance between you. His lips are warm and god, the large hand curling around your waist and drawing you closer feels divine. His body presses to yours, crowding you against the stone wall until you can feel every delicious inch of him.

"Oh gods -" Delvin's voice shatters the moment. You're shrinking back, Arnbjorn stumbling a few steps away but it's too late. Your face burns when Delvin and the Listener's stares pin you in place. "Well, looks like our problem solved itself."

Marrying him is strange. Arnbjorn is stiff and standoffish, barely grumbling when the arrangements are drawn up. It's hard to forget that kiss, heat creeping into your cheeks every time the memory emerges. He's not unkind, just unwaveringly professional.

"If you're not interested in your wife," the client's words are slurred when he nudges Arnbjorn. "Mind if I take a swing?" A few too many celebratory drinks have been shared after your first successful joint contract. He stares intently at you, arousal pounding through his veins at the sight of you wearing Brotherhood armor.

"What?" The wave of sheer rage catches him off guard. Arnbjorn glares down at the drunken lord, anger building when the man leers toward your group of thieves. He's restrained himself for so long, ignored the way your eyes linger and seek him out because of his damned principles - but he will not allow this.

"You clearly don't want her. No harm in someone else gettin' a chance, right?" The man grumbles into his goblet. "After all the coin I handed out for this job -"

All conversation ceases when Arnbjorn bolts out of his seat. Before you can ask what's wrong he's stalking toward you, fingers gentle but insistent when they grip your chin and tilt your lips toward his. His kiss is full of heat, brain flooding with unabashed arousal as your husband's hips press firmly into yours.

"What's this all about?" You pant, cheeks burning bright red when his nose brushes yours.

"Don't worry about it." Arnbjorn grumbles against your lips. He'll let his reservations slip for this evening of celebration. He tells himself that he will rebuild all those walls in the morning, allowing himself this one night as your husband.

#skyrim #skyrim x reader #x reader fanfic #writing #brynjolf #miraak #vilkas #farkas #arnbjorn

[kingovharts]

I love reading your asks they just make me so giddy about the IF. Omg i have a problem. 😭

I must ask my most favoriteissssstttissssst... it's a word shhhh... ask ever. Because i can be slightly toxic.

But how would the ROs react orre think about someone flirting very boldly with MC during the crushing stage riiiight where they can see them.

Lmao especially H because they literally have no other choice but to be around 😭🤣🤣🤣

Thank you so much for your kind words huhu. Also, under the cut cuz it got too long!

Edit: this is when MC is being polite but is uncomfortable with the unwanted behaviour.

Yudai Sakaguchi:

"Where did this person come from? When did they manage to get close to [MC]? Oh ho, look at them boldly flirting with [MC]. The audacity, the guts, how dare they! But, oh? [MC] is smiling???? SMILING?? Oh, must be them being polite. Right. Riight. Fuck this."

Yudai walked closer and stood beside you, observing the person you're talking to. He then said, "[MC], we're running a bit behind of our schedule. We must go now."

"Oh then [MC], if I could have your number please?"

You were supposed to decline when Yudai grabbed the person's phone and wrote down a phone number. He then took your wrist and led you away.

"Yu, whose number is that? That wasn't mine."

"Oh, I don't know? I just randomly wrote down some numbers."

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Vivienne Ramos:

"Who is this person? Why are they getting too close to you? I suppose it's alright, seeing [MC] being polite. However, that person is really starting to invade [MC]'s personal space."

Vivienne walked closer and stood beside you. She then bluntly said, "She's not interested at you. [MC], let us go."

"But, if it's at least okay to get their phone number...?"

Vivienne stopped at her tracks and reached out for her pocket. "You can contact this person if you wish to have a conversation with [MC]. Thank you."

"Oh thank you! Wait, WHAT?! A LAWYER?!"

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Héctor Alonso:

"[MC], they're trying to flirt with you."

The person boldly flirting with you suddenly stopped and stared at Héctor in bewilderment.

"See, [MC]? I'm right. Look at their face after being caught red-handed. They look ridiculous. They don't suit you. I mean, look at them, I think they didn't brush their teeth. I can smell the fish they ate from here."

You saw Héctor covering his nose. When he suddenly gasped rather dramatically.

"Oh my god, [MC], their nails are dirty! And they were biting them earlier. Oh god I also saw them picking their nose with those same nails..."

"Hey! I did not--"

Héctor spoke again, cutting off whatever they gonna say.

"See, [MC], you shouldn't settle for less. Or else your father will direct his anger towards me instead. You should at least find someone as beautiful as me. Gosh."

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Matyáš Dvořák:

You were talking to someone and when they asked for your phone number, Matyáš appeared next to you.

"Are you trying to ask for [MC]'s phone number?" Matyáš asked with one brow raised.

"Uh... no... Now that I think about it, haha no. I will take my leave then. Thank you [MC]!"

The two of you stared at the person running away from the both of you.

"I love being tall and big sometimes."

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆

Genevieve:

Genevieve saw you with someone else, and it's pretty clear that they're trying to flirt with you. Emphasis on the word "try" because they're definitely making a fool of their self.

Genevieve observes you for a moment, trying to gauge if you need help fending off the stupid person. Getting rid of such people is her speciality.

You noticed Genevieve from the corner of the room, her eyes locked to you and the person you're conversing with. She then strutted, stopping just close enough to intervene.

"[MC], do you need help fending off someone who can't accept the fact that you're not interested, yet keeps trying as if that would change an already established fact?"

⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺⋆ ⋆

A Wadia:

"[MC], did you know, I can juggle five balls simultaneously? I bet not anyone can do that"

"Oh [MC], I'm actually also ambidextrous. That's pretty rare, right?"

"[MC], I can even imitate the sound of a cat in heat."

You don't know when did Wadia started listing off their skills. But you did notice that they won't let the person let the other person say a word.

#the pantheon if #interactive fiction #ask: answered #elegantunknownphantom #ro asks #ro: yudai #ro: vivienne #ro: héctor #ro: matyáš dvořák #ro: genevieve #ro: a wadia

[xxfromthestartxx]

Todo x fem!reader who has Inumaki's cursed technique pleasee

Beneath Your Silence (Todo Aoi x Reader)

pairings: Todo Aoi x Fem!reader

summary: Todo x reader where the reader is a descendant of the Inumaki clan

warnings: This doesn't follow the JJK plotline, Violence, Language

The sun was shining brightly, the light blue sky fill of clouds. It was not your ideal weather, you would rather be inside, doing nothing and listening to pitter patter of rain on the windows - but no, you were wearing your training gear, stretching your limbs while watching your schoolmates stretch too.

You were an exchange student, well, not exactly exchange because you were just moved to the Kyoto branch this year, your last year. It was inefficient, for both you and your colleagues- because you can't and don't want to talk to them.

Just like your cousin, you've obtained the snake and fangs seal. Though unlike him, you are able to talk freely because you are in control of your cursed technique. That is not where it ends, you are also a descendant of the L/n clan meaning, you have inherited your mother's cursed technique, the ability to use music as your weapon.

Being a combination of these clans makes you a special grade sorcerer, not that you have a choice. Still, you want to make your parents proud- you didn't want to be a disappointment. You are your family's pride and joy, the only child and a candidate of being a clan head.

You took a deep breath, coming back to reality. You finally had took a good look around you, noticing your now classmate, Todo Aoi, staring at you. "Hey, you." You narrowed your brows at him, not interested in talking.

You ignored his call and continued stretching, tilting your head to the side until you heard a satisfying crack. You watched as he approached you, a wild smirk on his face. He stopped in front of you, crossing his arms.

He saw your eyes wander on his form, though your eyes were dull- it was the same look you always gave people around you. "You like what you see?" He teased, flexing his biceps a bit.

You scoff at his words, taking another good look at him. He was only wearing jogging pants, his pecs and abs on view, it didn't help that he was built like a greek god. You scrunched your nose, looking at his eyes, which you need to look up because even if you have an average height, he was a giant.

You chose to not talk, rolling your eyes instead. "Hm, I take you can't talk?" He then placed his hand under his chin, thinking. You pointed at the sigil on your cheeks, then shrugged, not interested on making friends.

"That's okay, I can be your spokesperson. You're our new classmate anyway." You scrunched your nose, displeased by the idea. You shook your head and avoided his gaze, seeing another third year who seems to be talking to Mai.

You recognize her, her blonde ponytail giving it away who she is. You quietly walked over to the two girls to avoid Todo, a great excuse if you were really being honest. Mai was the first one to notice, gently nudging Momo who immediately turned to you.

"L/n." You heard Mai coo, smiling widely. "So, how's the experience so far?" She asked, her brows quickly furrowing when she noticed Todo coming up to them. "What do you want?" She scoffed, crossing her arms at him.

"Easy, she's my classmate, not yours." Todo replied, smirking when you met his eyes once again. "She's my classmate as well." Momo quirked her right eyebrow, glaring at the buff man in front of them.

You watched as the three of them bickered, quite amused that the girls were acting as your spokesperson, stopping Todo from whisking you away from them. At one point, Mai was already annoyed and grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you closer to her.

"Come on, she doesn't want to be close with you. Don't you, L/n?" She asked, you just shrugged, staring at the man towering the three of you. The man just stared back, annoyed at Mai's intervention.

"Yeah, whatever. You're lucky today- I'll be leaving now, I still need to prepare for Takada-chan's meet and greet." Todo huffed, glaring at Mai and Momo, before turning to you.

"Welcome or whatever. Just know that if you crossed me, there will be consequences." You stared blankly at him before nodding. "Good." He huffed then tirned around, giving you quite the view. You caught yourself staring at his toned back, blushing slightly, you avoided your gaze.

...

That encounter was 2 weeks ago- it was strange to have a conversation with Todo- well, a one-sided one. He talks a lot, and half of the time, you don't follow or understand what he was talking about.

You sighed, adjusting your collar shirt which is another version of your uniform. This one specifically when you need to go on missions. You were waiting for Todo on the car, quite annoyed that you need to wait for the muscular man.

In your opinion, you could've handled the reported curse alone, but since you were a tranferee, your teacher, Ms. Utahime recommended to bring Todo with you. Not that she doesn't trust you- she said it will be a good bonding and learning experience for the both of you.

She say and you quote, "So the two of you could get to know eachother." You just knew that Todo pulled strings so he could come with you. Speaking of the devil, you could see his figure starting to form from afar.

He was running, plastic bags on hand. "Wait up!!" Under a minute, he was already in front of the door, opening it. "Sorry for the wait. Got you some food for the trip." He showed you the plastic bags, inside was a bunch of sweets, snacks, and drinks.

You quirked an eyebrow before taking them and putting it beside you, he smiled in return. "Hope I got something you like in there." He said, getting inside the car with a smile.

You watched as he locked the door, the car dipping slightly to his side. You rummaged to the plastic, trying to find something to eat. "Slow down, no one's gonna take 'em away from ya." He teased, taking out a drink from the other plastic.

You kept silent, a bit embarrassed at his words. You then returned to finding something to eat, this time a lot slower. "Everyone's here?" The driver asked, you gave him a nod while Todo answered for the both of you. "Yeah."

The car ride starts, it was quite peaceful, which is rare because with Todo by yourside, it was quite impossible. You finally got something out of the bag, which was your favorite snack. You took a glance at Todo, who was eating quietly with his eyes outside.

Maybe he's not in the mood to yap your ear off today, you thought. You shrugged and opened the bag full of snacks, catching Todo's interest. "Ya like that?" He asked, taking a sip of his energy drink.

You nodded and offered the bag, he's eyes widened in shock, not because of the sweets but the action. You were not one to share or to give someone food- but he disregarded it quickly, remembering it was him who bought the food.

He smiled, taking a piece and popping it on his mouth. "Mhm, ya got really good taste." He complimented, taking another piece. You smirked, popping a piece into your mouth. "Ya know, I'm getting tired of our one-sided conversations."

You quirked an eyebrow, staring at him. "I mean, ya sure, I like yapping but it feels like you have no choice but to listen to me. At least that's what they told me." He shrugged, grabbing a bag of chips and opening it easily.

You thought for a moment, processing what he said. Now that you think about it, there were times the others drag you away from the man beside you- but you find his presence quite endearing sometimes, well, when he's not yapping about Takada-chan.

You hesitated to answer- but it felt right to at least assure him that it was okay to talk. You reached for his forearm, taking a look at him directly. You rubbed your thumb over his forearm, hoping it was enough to tell him it was alright.

He chuckled a bit, taking your hand in his. "I guess one-sided conversations with you isn't that bad." He joked, placing your hand on his lap. You laughed dryly, nodding and taking another piece, popping inside your mouth.

...

The area you were supposed to be exorcising with Todo was an abandoned school- yes it was cliché but you have no say in the areas where cursed spirits houses.

It was a blur to you, you were not supposed to use any of your cursed technique, but it was a life or death situation. Your eyes shrunk, hesitating when an unregistered curse showed up behind Todo.

Your mouth went dry- eyes and hands panicking from what to do. "Explode!" Your eyes dialated, the enhanced command surprising you as well. Just in time, the curse burst into fits of blood- exploding from your command.

Your heart was racing, thumping hard agaisnt your ribcage- the blood of the curse staining your face and Todo's back. You gripped your cursed weapon tightly, knuckles turning white from the pressure you are putting in.

On the other hand- Todo couldn't believe his ears. The sound of someone's voice was enough to pull him out of a trance and to turn to look at you. "Huh." He stared at your shaken form- having mixed emotions about the situation.

You took him by his wrist and dragging him down- another curse emerging behind him. "Die!" You closed your eyes at the impact of your command. Just then, the curse behind him fell with a thud.

"Come on." You urged, dragging him away from the area- it was full of unregistered cursed spirits. He followed with no questions, but his minds were foggy from the sight of you being able to speak.

You halted, dropping his hands before pulling down the zipper of your shirt a bit. You pull out a harmonica and blew the highest note- immediately executing most cursed spirits. "So that's why you're a special grade." You turned to see Todo smirking at you.

"You don't need to worry about me," he started, inclining his neck to the side with a crack. "I can handle myself." He continued with a smirk, stretching his arms a bit. You let out a scoff, zipping up the zipper of your shirt and letting the harmonica disperse into thin air.

The moment was interupted when an octopus emerged underneath the floor- unfortunately covering your mouth. You muffled a scream, watching the floor colapse along with Todo. Your eyes widened, trying to reach for the zipper of your shirt when a sound of clap reached your ears.

In less than a second you were free from the slimy texture of tentacles- your eyes widened, processing what happened when you saw Todo fighting the octopus. "Freeze." You shouted, giving Todo the advantage to easily exorcise the cursed spirit.

You felt your throat itch, scratching it a bit before grabbing a shot glass like - throat syrup from your pocket. "Let's go." You heard him say, hjs voice stern. "There's still a lot of-" you were cut off when he grabbed you by your shoulders.

"Your throat is damaged from commanding curses to die twice, and you made a big ass octopus curse freeze- as in freeze. Now drink that cough syrup or whatever and let's go." You scoffed at him, swatting his hands away.

"'M fine." You scrunched your nose, opening the lid before downing the syrup. It burned your throat a bit, forcing you to let out a rough cough. "Know your limits." He huffed, glaring at you.

"Fuck." You rasped, massaging your throat a bit. "Let's get out of here. Most of the curses were exorcised anyway." He grabbed his jacket from somewhere, placing it on his shoulders.

...

After the mission, you were surprised he didn't said a word to the others. You were skeptical. He didn't brag about seeing you in action, neither the fact that he heard your voice. Since then, you tried to talk to him when no one's around, trying to befriend him.

It was like a secret, a secret that the two of you share. You started going to places where he often hangs around, and he returned the favor, often going to the pond near the dormitory to talk to you. No one really goes there except for you, so it was the perfect place to have Todo with.

It was a clear day, the sky was blue, the clouds are scattered, and the sun is shining. The sakura tree shielding you and Todo from it's burning shine. "Why don't ya speak?" He asked, picking on a leaf that had fell. It was a sudden question, and you don't know if you are ready to say your reasons. "Will you believe me if I said I just don't want to?" You retorted sassily, watching as the air blew the falling flowers away.

"I guess so, but what is the real reason?" He stopped fidgetting with the leaf and turned to you, staring straight in your eyes. His eyes were stern, but still soft at the same time- it makes you cave in but at the same time, it makes you nervous. "I..." you started, taking in a huge breath. "I don't want to get attached."

"Huh, never expected that reason." He averted his gaze, now understanding your actions and behavior towards the other sorcerers. "I guess I don't want my friends from Tokyo to think I forgot about them." You picked a leaf from the ground and started peeling it.

"I don't want them to think it's their fault I'm here." You lowered your head, "Well, are you attached? To us, I mean." He watched as you stopped your picking, hesistating for a moment before you continued. You didn't know what to say- are you attached? Have you let yourself be attached?

Once the leaf was nothing but a small chunk, you lifted your head and looked straight at Todo. "The others? Maybe. Maybe not." You answered, "But you..." you stopped, taking a deep breath before continuing, "I wouldn't call it a day without hearing your voice."

Todo raised an eyebrow, his eyes widening once he realized what it meant. "Are you saying what you think you are saying, N/n-chan?" He smirked teasingly, adjusting his position to face you completely. You could only huff at his teasing, rolling your eyes in annoyance.

"Think whatever you like to think of it." You scoffed, crossing your arms. Your face was getting hotter, embarrassed about how he reacted to your words. "Well then, Inumaki-chan." He started, his words serious.

"Can I court you?"

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #todo aoi #todo aoi x reader #todo jujutsu kaisen #todo jjk #todo x reader #jjk fanart #todo aoi x femreader #fem reader #x reader #reader insert

[vent-stink]

Queen of Tears (1)

Summary: Chaebol heiress, Hong Y/n, and idol, Choi Jongho, fell in love three years ago, but now their marriage is tense, and Jongho can't take it anymore. He hates the Hong family, and he can't stand his wife. But suddenly, as he is considering divorce, she gives him some bad(?) news.

pairings: idol!Jongho x chaebol!reader

c/w: i mean?? none really? toxic family, I suppose

a/n: I wish I knew how to write more than 2k words at a time, but this one is 3k. This basically follows the same sequence as the first episode of Queen of Tears, so slight spoilers! also not proofread, I wrote this all in one day on a whim

w/c: 3.7k

Jongho smiled as he spoke, looking at his interviewer, “People have asked me what it’s like living with a queen like y/n. I can just tell you that I’m a lucky man who married the love of his life.”

At the same time, y/n looked into a different camera, expression friendly, but distant, “I know people thought that Choi Jongho married me to further his career, but as I had not shown my face, no one had any idea who I was, even him. I hope this will put everyone’s minds at ease.”

“I get to spend every moment with her,” Jongho said, “We wake up together, eat breakfast together, and go to work together as well.” He failed to mention that waking up next to her meant waking up in adjacent bedrooms, eating breakfast together meant sitting on opposite sides of a long dining room table, and going to work together meant sitting in silence for twenty minutes as his wife drove him to his agency.

“My father liked to indulge my interests, and at the time I was interested in dancing. My father immediately paid for me to be a backup dancer in a small recently debuted group in secret. I didn’t need all of that when I knew my interest was temporary, but it was a worthwhile experience, all things considered. When I first met Choi Jongho, he bought me a banana milk from a vending machine,” y/n chuckled, “I immediately knew that he must like me…”

“That's not exactly the case,” Jongho said, “She was a little clumsy in practices since she was inexperienced. I really thought she was going to get fired soon. One day she was standing in front of the vending machine, just staring at it. My hyungs had made me go to get drinks for them, and she was standing there so long, so I just… saw what she was looking at and got it for her, so that she’d move.”

It was cute, at the time, her dazed expression as she stared at the banana milk in the vending machine, and the surprise when Jongho had held it out to her casually. He had looked so cool to her, and he fell, a little, because of her expressions. 

“I paid more attention to her from then… I guess I was a little obvious, especially when I scolded her after she made too many mistakes one day,” Jongho sighed, feigning a wistful smile. 

“You have to shape up if you want to perform. We can’t afford to lose a dancer before the performance. Even if you get fired and find another position, you’ll probably end up getting fired from there, too! Seriously, my heart stutters every time the choreographer calls you out,” Jongho had said to her, his voice somewhat cold but not unkind. He was maintaining distance, but it had only made y/n smile at him coyly, “Why? I’m the one being scolded, right? So why is your heart reacting?” 

Jongho had been stunned by her response, her cute giggle being the reason he snapped out of it as she returned to practice. 

When he saw her again, standing in the lobby of their agency’s building as the rain poured outside, he held out his umbrella to her. “You always need help. It’s so annoying, really,” he said and she chuckled, “I made your heart stop and now I’m annoying?” 

“You didn’t- Listen, I didn’t want to say all this because I’m not trying to look cool in front of you, but even though I haven’t been with this company long, I was training since I was fourteen years old to be a singer, so I’m confident that I will succeed. My parents were professional athletes and my brother is on track to be a professional archer. We’re from Seoul, too, so obviously we’re well off enough already that we can afford an apartment there. My family not only has a lot but we are on track to make more. So even if you get fired, now or later, from here or from anywhere else, you don’t have to worry because I can take care of you.” 

Y/n was dumbfounded at the suddenness and the brazenness of his rant. She tried to correct his assumptions, but he stopped her, firmly placing the umbrella in her grasp. “I’ll be honest, I always wanted my future wife,” she almost choked at that, “to work, but if it’s for you, I think it’s okay.” She looked straight into his face to see if he was joking, and his smirk proved that he knew the effect of his words. She frowned, huffing, “You’re making fun of me.” 

“Oh, no, on the contrary, I’m quite serious.” “I should have known you were just a jerk-” “I like you,” He said, seriously, “I was teasing you with all of that before, sure, but you laughed, too, when you asked me why my heart was stuttering, didn’t you?” She shut her lips up into a pout.

“You don’t have to feel pressured to answer right away,” he said, “Just don’t get wet outside, and that’s enough for me.” “...Jongho-ssi-” “Don’t argue with me. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

Before she could get another word in, he pulled his hood over his head and ran outside. “I… have a driver…” she sighed, looking at the umbrella in her hand. Slowly, her lips lifted up into a shy, but giddy smile. She didn’t need to, as her driver would be taking another ten minutes, but she went outside, lifting the umbrella above her head, just so she could use it. 

“Romantic, isn’t it?” Y/n chuckled, “That was how our love story began.” Smiling fakely, Jongho spoke, “I was really shocked when I found out about her family. So shocked in fact that she got scared and ended up ghosting me.”

“I was a fan of Seventeen,” she chuckled, “And he knew that so… on some show he sang the chorus of ‘Is it still beautiful’” Have the things that made me smile changed? Do you still talk the same way? I’m not the same, I don’t smile like I used to. I’m thinner now than I was with you. Y/n smiled fondly, “He used to make a big stink about how he gained weight when he was happy… so I knew he picked that song with intention… but he couldn’t bring himself to face me again after the things he’d said… so I came to him…”

“She visited me when I was visiting my hyung’s family with all the members in Namhae. She brought her helicopter and made a big scene, and I had a heart attack because I was worried about a scandal.”

“But I know what fans are like,” she said slyly, “They're jealous until their idol finds a literal goddess. I’m definitely not that good, but I suppose being a chaebol helped them accept me at least a little bit.”

“Well, there was a lot of happiness in between, but that’s what led to me having a happily married life now,” Jongho spoke confidently despite the lack of truth in his words.

“We’re very happy,” she lied straight through her teeth with ease.

But Jongho hated lying. He looked at the divorce settlement agreement in his hands, sighing as he knew it would be a perilous road to take, but he couldn’t take this anymore. He felt suffocated. He felt like it would be any day now that his lungs would finally either fail or gain enough energy to finally scream all his frustrations at his wife, which would probably result in worse repercussions than death. 

He shoved the document back in his desk and stood when his phone buzzed. He looked at it and realized that y/n had texted him a while ago to come down for a family meeting since he’d been taking too long in his office. 

“I’m sorry-” “Why were you late?” His father-in-law asked. “I texted him late,” y/n spoke, but her mother scoffed, “You shouldn’t have to remind him.”

Jongho could only clench his fist as he sat near, but not too near, his wife. The tension in the room was high, and once again Jongho struggled to even breathe. He was used to this in their last three years of marriage, so he knew how to talk, but it didn’t make it any less uncomfortable.

The family spoke business. Jongho vaguely understood it, but it had nothing to do with him, so he did not have to pay attention, zoning out until he was addressed again, “I want you two to have a baby.” If he was new to the family he would have had a violent coughing fit, but he only gave an unaffected but displeased look, “And after the baby is born, Jongho, we’ll send you to Boston to get your business degree.” “We’ve had this discussion already,” Jongho said. “Then I don’t have to tell you again that it’s not up to you.” 

They never approved of him being an idol, they thought it was a job that was beneath that of even a commoner. His job was to sing and dance in front of peasants. It was less than a king’s stupid jester to them. 

“Come on, Jongho, being an idol is all flashy, but there’s no money in that, really,” Woojin insisted. Of course you would say that since your net worth rival’s the entirety of my company’s. “It’s just singing and dancing, we all do that at karaoke, right? Is that all you could do? Is that why you didn’t go to college-” “That’s enough, Woojin,” Mr. Hong said, looking at him sternly. It wasn’t that he was defending Jongho, but rather he was tired of hearing his son pick a fight, “Anyway, enough pressuring them to have a child, they’ll do it eventually.” Jongho was naive to think the conversation was over when his father-in-law continued, “But I hope we can meet Soobin in May.” 

“...Soobin, sir? Who is Soobin?” “My future granddaughter, of course. Soobin, it means "remarkably shining”. Hong Soobin. It sounds great, doesn’t it?” Jongho had to hold back a scoff as he pressed his lips into a smile full of restraint, “Will she be Hong Soobin instead of Choi Soobin?” “Why not?! Taking the husband’s name is so old-fashioned, the woman is the one who gives birth, why should the child get the father’s name? We live in a progressive society. Do you not want her to have her mother’s surname-?” “But dad, I thought you said giving my son his mom’s surname was ridiculous-” “Shut up. This is different” Mr. Hong snapped at his son.  

The meeting soon ended. Jongho followed after Y/n stopping her in the hallway when they were along. “We need to talk.” She looked at him, waiting for him to continue, “You still want to have a child with everything going on? And I’m going to the states to study business? Is that what you want?” “It’s all words, Jongho. They can’t- no, they won’t force you to do anything.” Over my dead body. “They have no power over you. Only I do.” “Power over me. Right,” Jongho scoffed. “What? Don’t tell me you want to go to the states? If that’s the case, should I go with you-?” “No,” he said sharply, “Even if I was going, no.” “Exactly,” she said, “So don’t think about what they say about your career, it doesn’t pertain to them in the slightest. And as for the baby, it’s not like you’ll have to lift a finger. You’re free to tour and practice all you like since other people will be raising it anyway.” “It,” she said. 

“Are you happy about this? You really want a baby?” he asked, taking a menacing step forward. She looked up at him, unfazed, picking up her phone and answering her husband before she answered the call, “If it’s needed.” Jongho stared her down before shaking his head, turning to leave, but stopped when he realized she was talking to another magazine outlet for another interview. 

When she hung up he spoke angrily, “I’m done with these interviews! Don’t include me, do it by yourself!” “How can I do it by myself if it’s about married couples?” “You can tell them everything you want! Tell them how much we love each other and how happy we are. Tell them how we sleep in the same bed and go on dates and nothing has changed since we got married. You can keep telling them that. It’s all a lie anyway, and I’m not doing it anymore.” He stormed out, exasperated. He couldn’t believe her. What had gone wrong in their marriage?

Y/n stayed behind to find Woojin in the garden later, interrupting his call as she slapped him in the back of the head. He looked at her dumbfounded before he yelled at her, “Why did you do that!?” She simply looked at him as she stepped forward. He backed up with every step she took. “Stop it, what are you doing? Stay over there, use your words, don’t hit me!” He flinched when she raised her hand. Instead of hitting him, she grabbed his wrist, pulling it away from his face. 

“As far as I know, if not for our parents and grandparents, your net worth from your ventures would amount to less than Jongho’s net worth as an idol. So who are you to say anything to him?” She kicked his leg and punched him down so that he was now on the floor. “I know you must feel threatened because Jongho is a beloved idol and nobody in our family even respects you,” She kicked him again, “Don’t fool yourself because you’re older than me.” 

Woojin gritted his teeth as he stood up and looked down at her, “Disrespect my husband again, and I’ll kill you.” “Fine! Fine, I got it. You’re seriously a psychopath!” Y/n ignored him as she walked back to her cold home where her husband was not waiting for her. 

Instead he was with his members, Wooyoung and San. After exerting his angry energy by practicing their latest choreo, he asked them to get drinks with him, and despite his high tolerance he was wasted. He just wanted to forget his shitty life at home.

“What’s wrong with you?” Wooyoung deadpanned at Jongho whose head was on the table. He lifted his head, giving a cute closed lip smile and San laughed, “What is this? Why do you look so cute when you’re drunk? I’m not used to it.” “I’m cute, right? She said that, too,” Jongho sniffed, “She said it was her favorite thing I do.” “Who said that?” “Y/n,” he said, then choked out a sob, “Why!? Why am I cute?! If I wasn’t this cute maybe I could have been saved!” 

Wooyoung and San shared a look. Jongho was never like this. “I did this to myself!” Jongho sobbed, beating his chest, “I was so cute and I made her fall in love with me!” “Yah, Jongho, go home. You’re drunk.” San said, cleaning up the table. “I can’t.” “Why not?” Wooyoung asked, already tired of this. “I’m too cute. She’ll see it, so I can’t go home. What can I do??” 

San left to throw the garbage away and Wooyoung leaned forward, “So you don’t want to go home?” “Noooo!” “Okay, fine. Sleep on the hard floor in the practice room them, break your back and then be on hiatus for the next showcase. Do it.” “Jongho-ya, spouses fight all the time. Girls pay more attention to things so they just talk about it more and then men don’t like it, but you’re better than that, right? So stop worrying and just go home to your wife.” 

Jongho cried his sorrows away as he went home, followed by Hong Y/n’s PR team. 

Divorce is the only way out.

Now, staring the Hong Family secretary of affairs, he felt even more sure of that.

“You know she wrote a will before you two got married, right? In it, you get nothing. She was never planning on letting you have anything. She wasn't looking for a husband, she was looking for a pretty face for PR, an Idol of your caliber was just the perfect fit.

Jongho spoke suspiciously, “You came all the way to our house to tell me this?”

“You're a busy man, Jongho-ssi, I wasn't able to reach you otherwise. I just wanted to help. Consider it an act of kindness from a fellow commoner. Even if we aren't the same status at all in your eyes, you know we are both looked down on equally for not being one of them.”

“Hm. I see,” Jongho said, “Thank you for letting me know.” His grip strength nearly broke the door and she nodded, giving a quick bow before leaving, a smirk donning her face as she had planted the seed in his mind.

It was as if it was fate when Jongho closed the door and heard the click of Y/n’s heels behind him. He steeled himself and turned to look at her and her steady expression. “We need to go somewhere today. I know you have nothing on your schedule, I checked, so-” “No.”

She froze when he cut her off, hurt flashing in her eyes, “I didn’t even tell you where we’re going.” “I don’t care,” he said, “I don’t want to go anywhere with you.” He put his shoes on as he walked out of the house, leaving his wife alone. She didn’t cry, but she went without him, because what else was she supposed to do? Even though she didn’t want to be alone.

Seonghwa looked at Jongho stupidly. “I’m going to divorce her.” Seonghwa looked at Hongjoong, then at Yunho, and then Yeosang, and then San, and Mingi, and Wooyoung. They all shared the same expression. What the fuck?

“What?” San asked in disbelief. “I’m going to divorce, Y/n” “Wh-why!?” “Is this because I said I would rather die than get married? You know I was kidding, right?!” Mingi yelled, resulting in a slap to the back of the head from Wooyoung, “Jongho wouldn’t be influenced by you!” “Ya!”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” Hongjoong said to everyone before looking at Jongho, “What’s the reason? Don’t tell me… are you seeing another-” “NO! I’m not like that!” “Then does Y/n-?” “Stop it, Wooyoung, those kinds of questions are uncomfortable,” Seonghwa sighed, looking worriedly at Jongho. “No, she doesn’t,” the maknae sighed, “This life…with her…just became too much for me. I’m not happy anymore.” 

“Jongho-ya… not all married couples are always happy… I’m sure this is something you can work through!” Hongjoong tried to reason with him, “Don’t give up yet! It’s only been three years!” “Should I be unhappy for 20 years before it becomes too much?” Jongho asked, “I’m firm. I already got a lawyer to draft the paperwork and everything.” 

“Jongho…,” Yunho said softly, “Seriously, think about it more. You loved- love her. Does she feel the same? If you don’t know what she’s thinking then there are clearly other things you have to work out before you can make a final decision like this.” “I wouldn’t even mention it if I wasn’t sure, Yunho-hyung.” 

“Maybe you’re always with her so you can’t think straight. Why don’t you stay at the dorm tonight and clear your head,” Wooyoung suggested, but Jongho shook his head, “I came to see you all unexpectedly. I’ll be scolded if I come home too late or not at all.”

“Maybe taking a moment to clear your mind would be worth that, Jongho,” Yeosang said, but Jongho didn’t. He was determined to confront Y/n. Tonight. 

He walked straight to her room when he got home, knocking and not waiting for an answer before he opened the door. He looked at Y/n who looked surprised that he’d even stepped foot in her room. 

“I have something I want to say.” “Oh, I do, too. Can… can I go first?” Her eyes, usually a lot more stoic, were now softer. Jongho couldn’t tell the difference in her demeanor. He didn’t care. 

“Fine. Go ahead.” She crossed her arms, clenching the sleeves of her blazer in her fists before speaking, “I’m dying, and I have three months left to live.”

Jongho heard a record scratch, glass breaking, and a train stopping all at once in his mind. He controlled his expression, “What the hell are you saying?”

“When I said we needed to go somewhere today, I meant to the doctor. They had test results that they had to give in person, so I thought it would be better if you were with me when I heard them… but um…,” She shuffled uncomfortably, “I have a tumor in my brain. It’s very rare and so far there’s no available treatment, so unless I find someone, all I have is three months.” A silence followed so she said, “That’s all… so… what did you want to say?” 

Jongho shook his head, “That- that’s not important right now.” “Just say it, it’s not like I have time for you to tell me later,” she said grimly, “So?”

“I…” She looked at him expectantly, and for the first time, he was almost at a loss for words. This was the last thing he expected to hear, but somehow it was also exactly what he needed.

“I’m sorry, for today,” he said, and she looked at him surprised, “I’m sorry for everything I have said until now. It won’t happen again, and I’ll treat you better from now on. That’s what I wanted to say.”

Jongho shook his head, “But you only have three months to live? How am I supposed to live without you? How is that possible? Are you serious?” “Yeah, but-” 

Suddenly, Jongho pulled her in for a hug in panic. His face was about to betray him, but it slackened at his next words, since they weren’t real. He didn’t mean them.

“I love you, Y/n. I love you.”

His face was void of any of the love he said he had behind her back, but Y/n didn’t know that. She blushed, wrapping her arms around his waist, clutching the jacket in her hands and not letting him pull away until she could fix her own pathetic expression. 

Maybe things wouldn’t be so bad. 

#ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez #atz #choi jongho x reader #ateez choi jongho #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #choi jongho #jongho x y/n #queen of tears #ateez fanfiction #ateez fanfic

[irisintheafterglow]

friends can i hs journalist!reader x bachira brain rot on main real quick because i really need to get this idea out of my head

it's no secret that bachira meguru did not have friends. elementary school into middle school was essentially spent in solitude, and only when he reached high school did he attempt to connect with others.

luck, he figured, placed you two at the same lab table for a science class whose concepts he's long forgotten. you were uncharacteristically warm to him and possessed the patience of a seasoned kindergarten teacher, letting him doodle in the top right corner of your notebook and worksheets. you were always ready to build on whatever joke he muttered, but equally as quick to steer him onto the right task. you countered him so easily that it unnerved him. he found you perplexing, listening to him rattle on about soccer with an interest that only his mother had shown him. there was a monster inside of him, he'd revealed after a few months of knowing you, and you nodded in understanding like you could see it too.

"i feel the same way when i'm photographing a game. it's hyper-focus, right? like someone is whispering in your ear what the best shot is, though i guess 'shot' means different things to each of us," you added, barely glancing up from your notebook. you picked out a yellow highlighter from your pencil case and carefully ran it over a vocabulary word, only stopping when you saw bachira staring at you. "what is it?"

"you're in yearbook?"

"yearbook and journalism class, yeah. i write for the school paper, but it's mostly the sports columns," you say with a nonchalant shrug.

"oh, so do you do, like the-" he holds his hands in the shape of two L's, wiggling the top joint of his pointer finger like he was pressing the shoot button on a camera. "the this thing?"

"mhmm. i take photos at the games and i also write about the result afterward. it's pretty cool, especially during nationals season." another highlighter is chosen meticulously from your bag, the same shade of blue that he liked to draw raindrops with. bachira could probably match a doodle to every writing material you owned, if he tried.

"huh, i bet. why've i never seen you at a game, hmm?"

"they usually assign the same people for each sport, and i've been covering the basketball and volleyball teams for a few years." orange, you pick, for something about homeostasis. "why?" he catches a mischievous sparkle in your eye, like you were teasing him. "you want me to go to your games?"

"absolutely," bachira replies without hesitation. "you don't even have to ask."

so, you do go to the next game. not as a school journalist, but just as a spectator in the stands. you find a seat next to a very passionate mother cheering for the other team, somewhere in the middle of the bleachers. it's close enough that you can spot bachira as soon as he's on the field, and he spots you too. he raises his hand in an excited wave, mimicking the same 'shooting a camera' gesture that got you into this situation. during the game itself, you realize bachira's talent is impossible to ignore, especially when he's finding you after every goal and assist and doing the camera movement like it was your own private joke. you find yourself in the stands again and again, catching his eyes and finding that he's already looking at you.

"i can't believe they actually let you switch," he said, breathless after he sprinted across the field to find you during half-time of your first game as acting journalist. "what'd you say to convince them?" you shrugged, a small smile playing on your lips.

"i just told them the truth," you murmur so that only you two could hear, "that i like watching you play."

"right," he stutters, unsure of what to say. "yeah. well, i'm glad i look cool to you!" he considers it one of the biggest mistakes of his life, leaving whatever was there between you two unsaid. he didn't respond how he wanted to, truthfully, because you'd caught him off guard. bachira meguru wasn't used to having friends, nor was he used to the airy feeling in his forehead and the lightness in his stomach. bachira meguru was not good at being in love.

when he left for blue lock, he felt like he'd left a part of himself with you.

"you're-you're leaving?" he knew you were trying to keep your composure, but it was slipping. he explained the implications of being a certified athlete again and you nodded, your mind anywhere but present. "i see. do you know when you'll be back?" bachira shakes his head. "i see."

"but it'll be good! it'll probably make me a better player and get me one step closer to my dream!"

"right. i'm excited for you, meguru." there was something off in your tone that he couldn't place. the monster was telling him he was...hurting you.

"i'll send you letters or something like we're in shakespeare!" you crack a pained grin, forcing out a laugh that was no more than a nicety. most of the characters die or hate each other in shakespeare. "and i promise i'll come right back to you when i'm done." it seems to be the wrong thing to say since he spots the tremble of your bottom lip as you swallow thickly. what was he doing to you?

"i hope it's everything and more," is the last thing you say to him before he leaves for blue lock. when you're completely removed from his life, he finds his mind drifting to you as a safety net when he had trouble sleeping or hits a low during training. it is everything and more, being at blue lock, but his fingers want to become the shape of a camera every time he makes a goal.

"'mock press day' my ass," raichi declared during a training day before the u-20 match. according to ego, the five-on-five scrimmages would be observed by various reporters to increase interest in the blue lock vs u-20 game. "they just want an excuse to gawk at us."

"the existence of this program is riding on that game," isagi points out. "they're probably trying to prep us for the other scrutiny that comes with being in the public eye." raichi's eye twitches, his grip tightening on the laces of his cleats.

"they can shove all their eyes up my-"

"what kind of press do you think they'll be?" chigiri's question unconsciously catches bachira's attention. "news channels? maybe interviews?"

"don't be thinking they care about what we're doing here," rin deadpans from across the locker room. "it'll be yelling and flashes and that's it, so ignore them and move on." from a dark corner of his brain solely focused on preparing for a match, a childish hope consisting of two words popped into the back of bachira's mind. what if?

when the kickoff whistle is blown, the other players don't understand why he keeps looking toward the spectators as if he's trying to find someone. the even more perplexing bit?

why bachira apologizes in advance for 'needing to show off' before pulling the nastiest dribbling the program has seen since its conception.

--

there's a buzz in the visiting group of reporters when the match you observe ends, compliments and awe revolving around the striker with the outlandishly good dribbling skills. he was really fired up, they comment. and he's only your age, they say to you with wonderstruck faces. can you believe the talent of that striker? i'm not sure what he was doing with his hands after each goal, though. was he taking a picture of us instead? while they continue to recount their favorite plays, you smile and wait for him to come and find you, your star player and his favorite photographer.

--

later heard in the locker room: "why the fuck was bachira kissing one of the press people after the match?"

"call it unfinished business," bachira replies with a satisfied smirk, "you better be scared of me, next time that reporter is in the stands. i have a lot of time to make up for."

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

#bachira x reader #bachira x you #bachira x y/n #bachira meguru x you #bachira meguru x reader #bachira meguru x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk x y/n

[raviollies]

I need to vent

Idk if it's just hormones making me have issues or my meds have genuinely started just not being enough but I've been feeling so fucking dogshit the last few days. I just feel like the meds made me not think about the glass where little things that remind me of how much of a pathetic loser I am piled up and today it just overflowed.

I wish I was invited to things. I wish I could go out to places with people. I am so jealous of people on social media that go out to have drinks with their friends or hang out because I just don't have irl friends. I can blame it on the fact that I've moved 6 times, but at what point do I just accept that people or me just don't connect. I have online friends and I treasure them but it doesn't negate that I wish...I had people to go places with. I don't know how to make friends where I am, I try to be friendly and inviting with the coworkers my age which is few but they seem to lose interest in me. I can never hold anyone's attention.

Online I talk to only the same 4 people and that's it, same hurdle. Outside those 4, I can't seem to hold anyone's attention. I try to be welcoming but at a point I think I just have to accept that something about me is just...unwanted.

I always feel like if I don't offer people something then they won't stick around. "If I draw for them" If I "organize this for them" if I "buy this for them". I grovel and beg for others to like me like a circus animal. The concept of being INVITED to something like playing a game feels like a water bottle dangled in front of a parched man in a desert.

So I just try not to think about it , go to work, go home, draw, sleep and repeat.

And so my entire self worth hinges on my work performance and art. I feel worthless if I make mistakes or am behind (through literally no fault of my own) and when my art just...flops. because those things tell me that I'm not good at that either. And if I'm not a good work or a good artist then what's the point. I'm not good at being a person either evidently. Logically I understand that things at work are outside my control or that the value of art isn't determined by stupid little online hearts but that doesn't stop my brain from being unable to connect emotions and logic. I end up crying all the same.

I'm jealous of people who don't care for this. Who can freely post and create art for themselves without waiting for approval like I just did a trick I was taught. Who can do things on their own and aren't crippled by the empty seats beside them. That I didn't get jealous when other people are invited to things wishing I could be too. That could just be happy for others without having that negging feeling of being pathetic.

I often fantasized about getting sick because it would make people pity me and pay attention to me without me needing to grovel like a dog. I feel pathetic begging for scraps of attention from others but if I don't, I get nothing and feel even worse. My choices are to feel like I'm a parasite being annoying and clingy or just staring at a wall in silence with a completely silent phone.

It's just hard to think about the fact that if I died today, my funeral wouldn't even have 5 attendees.

#vent #delete later #i kind of kist needed to get things off my chest. i didnt want to burden anyone directly with this #i am going to go nap now and pray it fixes.me

[justsigma-bsd]

Everything Seems Small (From High Up)

Basically what happened after Sigma left the note and before Chuuya showed up.

Also me trying my hand at a different writing style-

TW for survivors guilt (I think), implied/mentioned starvation (it's small but there), a lot of injuries being mentioned and their causes.

@fukuzawa-armeddaddyagency may I perhaps interest you in seeing the aftermath of "lost one son to save another"? (ngl it would've probably happened anyway)

He doesn't remember how he managed to get there. The entire way is a blur. He doesn't remember how he managed to climb down, just that he somehow managed to slide down the gutter without falling.

In hindsight, he's more surprised he managed to hold on. His hand and arm ached from the effort of carrying his own weight, which the whole incident had reduced by quite a bit, but he barely cared. He just prayed that neither stab nor bite opened, and went on his way. 

Sure, both are wrapped tightly in bandages, along with pretty much most of his limbs, leaving pretty much all of the bites and stabs and cuts he'd endured hidden from prying eyes, but it'd be a pain to rewrap them all again... and he doesn't want to bother Chuuya with this. 

It's his own fault anyway, he dug his own grave, and now he may as well lie in it. 

His legs ached all the way, but he barely paid it any mind. He just walked and walked and walked, until he barely even knew where he turned left and where he turned right. He just had his destination in mind.

And his legs still ache, an hour later, when he's finally sitting where he'd wanted to go. 

He stares down, and for a moment he remembers falling from Sky Casino. Remembers the terror of thinking he'd die. Remembers the air whipping past his face, howling in his ears as if he'd been caught in a hurricane.

His legs, aching and stinging from bites that hopefully haven't started bleeding again, dangle down over the edge. He fidgets with his hands, plays around with the bandages wrapped around one of them. The bite underneath hurts as well. 

Everything hurts, if he's honest with himself. 

His legs hurt, courtesy of the dogs who'd dug their fangs into his flesh. 

His hand hurts, from when another dog bit it and dragged him back into his room- back to Mori. 

His face and arm and leg hurt from the cuts and stabs Other Kris had left on him. 

His knee hurts, and he can't remember that one clearly, but he thinks a bullet grazed it. 

His back hurts, from when he'd fallen down the stairs.  

His throat hurts, and he wishes desperately for the bruises to fade so he can stop wearing turtlenecks. 

He lets out a sigh and watches the city. From so high up, everything looks so... small. Insignificant. He knows his friends are down there. His family. His love... yet part of him think that maybe, just maybe, they'd be better off if he stayed here. 

He'd left a note. Granted, a very vague note, but he did... god, who was he kidding? Everyone's a mess right now. Everyone's in various stages of grief and dealing with it better or worse. Everyone's mourning, and what is he doing? Running from his problems. 

He lets out a breath, tears gathering in his eyes. 

It's his fault they're mourning. What was it that Fukuzawa had said? Ah, right. He'd sent Dazai to get him out. He'd weighed his options and lost one son to save another. 

He feels like screaming. Like crying. Throwing something, breaking something, tearing something apart and crying over that as well. 

It's his fault, start to finish. 

He'd started all of this with petty revenge that had been entirely pointless, and to what has it led? To Dazai dying. 

Fukuzawa should've made the right call. He should've left him to rot instead of sending help. He wasn't worth another's life. Hell, he isn't even an actual person- just some writing on a page. 

Karma was right. He's useless. He's useless and incompetent and he still doesn't know the reason- but he can see why he'd hate him. He wonders, silently, how many people hate him and are just too polite to say it to his face. 

It should've been him who died. Would've been better for everyone... or no, scratch that. He really just should've stayed in the desert. Less pain and suffering for everyone involved. He should've stayed away after Meursault, at the very least. 

... well, too late to prevent that mistake from happening. 

So he sits, high up above the city, and watches. Watches while everything looks so small and distant insignificant, and he silently wonders why he ever thought he could be a part of that without ruining it. 

#ada sigma #bsd rp blog #sigma bsd #ooc post #bsd rp #bungou stray dogs #fanfic #short story #angst #survivor guilt #this probably makes barely any sense if you didn't watch the whole Mori-situation go down #and i love that i might confuse some people with this

[ushouldwatchhaikyuu]

Haikyu!! dumpster battle ramble akdbsjsbdd

warning for slight spoilers?? (i mention scenes but i dont say anything about who won or stuff like that lmfao) and also caps lock lmfao

aight. HINATA BEING TERRIFIED THAT KAGEYAMA WAS GONNA STOP SETTING FOR HIM. JUST LIKE HE SAID WHEN THEY FIRST MET. CAUSE HINATA WASN'T BEING NECESSARY TO WIN. AND HINATA TRYING SO HARD AND BEING NOT ONLY FRUSTRATED THAT IT WASN'T ENOUGH, BUT ALSO SCARED THAT IF KAGEYAMA SAW HE WASN'T USEFUL. HE'D LOSE INTEREST IN HIM AND STOP SETTING FOR HIM. nekoma cutting off Hinata's wings not only to stop him from flying, but to make kageyama stop helping him fly.

and kageyama sees that. realizes that hinata isn't being useful to him or the team. AND HE FINDS A WAY TO SET FOR HIM ANYWAY.

he sees Hinata can't get up on his own and everything is telling him to drop him- the most reasonable & rational thing would be to stop setting for him. and y'know what kageyama does? HE TELLS HIM "GO AHEAD, FLY"

HE SETS FOR HIM ANYWAY and finds a way to make him fly even higher. WHICH IS SO DKSBSKSJSJSKS IDEK HOW TO DESCRIBE IT. like not only does that tell hinata that no matter how much people try to stop him, kageyama will help him fly anyway- but it also speaks about kageyama A LOT. cause there wasn't a strategic reason to keep trying to use hinata- in fact, he could've used nekoma's focus on him on their favor and instead set for other players.

BUT NO, he chose to keep setting for hinata. because at that point it wasn't just about winning, for kageyama. yknow how important is that? kageyama, who only ever cared about winning, thought setting for hinata was more important to him than winning.

IF THAT DOESNT SAY A LOT ABOUT HIS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT IDK WHAT WOULD

also??? kenma feeling like shit about doing that to hinata?? EVEN THOUGH HE CAME UP WITH THE IDEA. kenhina bffs they're so adorable wtf.

but then again the "we're just friends scene"??? WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK???? DKSBSJSK it made me feel stuff lmfao such a good way to portray their friendship & rivalry

also!!! kuroo, bokuto & tsukki crumbs!!! i love their friendship sm its so cool that they had their moments in the movie. bokuto was adorable sksnsjsjsj

the animation was also so cool tbh, specially that one scene of hinata and kenma staring at each other. yknow the one.

this one lmfao

ALSO everyone's talked about the scene where kenma keeps hinata in a birdcage but i still gotta mention it cause ITS SO COOL WTF

and everyone also said it but like. literally a kuroken movie (/p or /r). i loved how they showed that development of kenma's love for volleyball and how hinata felt so proud and happy and accomplished when kenma said their match had been so fun fksbdjdjdjdj HE HAD THE PERFECT REACTION.

also kuroo's laugh??? BEAUTIFUL and also a very good reaction lmfao.

yeah those r my main thoughts. overall a very good movie, perhaps the pacing could've been a bit more intense/nerve-wrecking for my liking? like i wasnt so "in it" as i was with many matches in the anime. still, i think it had a bit more of a focus on relationships and background stories and character development, specially through flashbacks, symbolism & but impactful quotes, so it's still chefs kiss. very much recommend watching it if u haven't.

#haikyuu!! #hq!! #hq #haikyuu #haikyuu shitpost #hq shitpost #karazuno #hinata shoyo #hinata shoyou #kageyama tobio #tsukkishima kei #tetsuro kuroo #bokuto koutarou #kuzome kenma #haikyuu dumpster battle #haikyuu movie #haikyuu spoilers #haikyuu dumpster battle spoilers #haikyuu movie spoilers #hq spoilers

[solibrie]

having big ideas for the space between lately... i kinda wanna try my hand at writing julie and luke's big songwriting weekend... especially since that is presumably the weekend julie caught feelings

#hummingbird chirp #fic rambles #the space between is looking to be entirely in luke's pov #which is going to make writing a fic about their songwriting weekend really interesting #i mean. luke was totally flirting with julie when he told her she'd “slay” those songs in ep4 #I MEAN. if you ask me. luke was gone the instant he heard her sing #but in terms of being AWARE of it. not til ep6 #so writing his internal monologue will be really fascinating #ANYWAYS #esp because in flying solo i can't stop thinking about the way #he ROTATES HIS WHOLE ASS BODY to keep staring at her #after they perform bright

[keeps-ache]

oc in my brain. oo what might they be doin

#just me hi #i am baking Hid in my mind #do you ever get so excited about a character and so deeply interested about them that you just can't focus on anything but the Vibes and yo #can't even make anything for it lmao #hello dude!! thanks for stopping by this is so awesome !! oh wait. okay we're just running around. are we- okay we're not doing anything lo #i have a Commander Jetali and i still gotta work on the. little world stuff so #//woo woo yay woo !!!! #//there's nothing for me to watch rn so .‚. i don't have anything to focus on hfvsh #so i'm trying to work on my own things but i keep getting distracted by other characters in the story + worldbuilding + wips sooo #i was working on the main story but then i realized i didn't have a set plan for how the character's room looked so now i'm finishing a #whole piece and i hate colouring lol #//i'm gonna go stare into the abyss now. oooooo [<- ghost noise] toooodles

[alligaytorswamp]

Adry shakes u violently

We all know childe falls first but pls need ur intake on kaeya falling for childe first

...a very interesting thought...............

hmmm i think kaeya would be convinced he isn't *actually* crushing, childe is just hot and kaeya has a great taste in men so it's a mere observation. No Real Feelings for sure

basically a bitch in denial, idk

and he would be marinating in his feels for long enough for childe get a crush and then both just start mutually pining

it's a funny concept tho.. like for somebody else it looks like childe is the first to have a crush (bc he is more obvious) but kaeya is just good at controlling himself and how he is perceived yet it's him who started losing his shit first

i think kaeya crushing first implies kaeya going out of his way to hang out with childe, constantly flirting with him and i mean like Hardcore Flirting, all while proudly thinking how all of this is just a silly little joke and ofc he isn't catching feelings, and yeah this is totally different from his interactions with people he actually doesn't like buuuut nah nah dw kaeya doesn't like him at all childe is just cute and hot and funny and pleasant to be around that happens

#kaeya hardcore flirting when they r alone and obv only when they r alone triggers the most fucked up crush out of childe #childe maybe didnt even know he liked men like that #now he is sitting there trying not to think how many kids they should have together #rip #anyways #i have been shaken ! #ask adry #oliviine #kaeya who is the first to fall in love is the most confident idiot ever #he gay gazes at childe and then goes on to say how the guy is Just Ok he wasn't even staring pls how did u even notice that- #maybe kaeya also can't beleive he is first to fall in love he is not used to that or maybe had bad experiences so he shuts everything off #until the other party shows their interest #smth like dat #i cant talk about chaeya for way too long so i will stop-