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naughtyjjk · 3 days

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just a massage (pt. 1)

characters: nanami x reader warnings: 18+, smut, massage, sexual tension, dirty talk, fingering, masturbation this fic is planned to have 3 parts. if you want to be tagged when i update (and for future posts in general) just leave a comment!

it’s not your first time coming to the massage parlor, but you still feel a little out of place, even if you know how all of this goes.

there’s no one in the room with you, yet. on the bed, you go to lie down on your stomach with only a towel tied around your waist. this is the procedure—you get undressed first, almost completely naked, stripping free of your stresses so that you're ready to fully relax and alleviate any soreness in your body. but you can’t help feeling a little self-conscious every time you start.

what you don't expect is for the masseuse to appear through the doorway completely shirtless, wearing only a pair of tight shorts. nothing is left to the imagination, so you can see everything that he has to offer. it’s hard not to stare. he’s... well, he's hot, your brain supplies unhelpfully.

you take a moment to appreciate the sight of him. the man's blond hair is stylized in a clean look, and he has sharp eyes and an even sharper jawline. his chest is toned, his abs look delicious, and his thighs are thick and strong. it's obvious that he works out regularly. and you didn’t intend to check him out so thoroughly, but your gaze drifts to his arms, the veins that are visible there, and down to his hands.

in a moment, those hands are going to be on you. all over your body. you swallow at the mere thought of it.

before you know it, the man has made his way to the massage bed, standing right next to you. he nods at you in acknowledgement and says nothing else as he grabs all the items he needs from the counter to the side.

you know that his name is nanami kento because it had showed up when you booked the appointment, but it's still a little strange that he doesn't introduce himself whatsoever. he seems to be the quiet type, but from the way he moves, there's confidence, too. he must be skilled at his job.

watching him, you find that you can't look away. it's embarrassing to admit, but you've been fighting to keep your thoughts pure this whole time, and it's quickly becoming a losing battle.

his back is turned to you and you watch his muscles flex as he moves. there are dirty thoughts swimming all through your head; you can't help it, not when there's such an attractive man in front of you on full display. you feel guilty too, because it's not like you came here for anything other than a massage, and nanami is so serious looking that you can tell he holds himself to a high degree of professionality. there's no way he would go after a client. the thought probably never even crosses his mind.

knowing this, you tell yourself to calm down. don't stare at him too much. don't let him realize how you're practically lusting after his body.

he gestures at you and that's when you finally snap out of it. he's telling you to get comfortable on the bed and you do as you’re told, sighing once you're in position. there’s gentle instrumental music playing in the background, a soothing tone that could probably lull you to sleep after a while. right now though, sleeping wouldn’t be possible, given how you’re hyperaware that nanami's full attention has turned to you.

a second later, without any warning, you feel cool liquid hitting your back and you almost gasp aloud. following that, a pair of warm hands begin to spread it all over your skin. up and down, nanami moves slowly, rubbing across your shoulder blades, along your spine, fingers splayed out. occasionally, they’ll wrap around your ribs, tickling the sides of your breasts.

once the oil is spread out evenly, nanami focuses on your shoulders, kneading into the muscles there. he’s skilled, you can tell that much. somehow, he manages to hit all the right places, working out knots in your muscles that you didn’t even know were there.

“hmm. you have a lot of tension in this area,” nanami murmurs, pressing down. “where else do you usually feel discomfort or pain?”

he asked a question, but all you can think in the moment is, god, his voice. it's low and a bit rough and it does something to you, awakens something in the pit of your stomach.

your eyelids have fluttered shut, melting under his touch. you feel so comfortable here that you almost forget to reply. “mm… a bit lower.”

following your directions, nanami slides down to your lower back, palms dragging against your skin as if to pull all the tension away from your body. he reaches the dip where your hipbones start, rubbing the skin with his thumbs.

“here?” nanami asks, and you hum in confirmation. “let me know if it hurts, but i’m going to go a bit deeper. usually, it’s most effective when you press hard…”

somehow, the pressure is just right that it makes you let out a soft moan, entirely unintentional. embarrassed, you mumble, “s-sorry.”

“don't worry, sweetheart,” nanami reassures you, and that nickname has you melting. he presses at the same place once more. “it's better not to hold back your sounds. letting it out can help make you feel better as well.”

so, even though it still makes you slightly self-conscious, you allow yourself to freely vocalize your appreciation for nanami's work whenever he hits a particularly good spot. after a while, you hardly even notice your own noises, too engrossed in everything nanami is doing that’s making you more and more relaxed… and maybe something else, too.

you don't know if it’s caused by the increased blood flow from nanami warming up your body or what, but you start to notice something stirring inside you. something that you recognize and can only be described as getting turned on. fuck, you curse mentally. this isn’t right. nanami may be insanely attractive, and he's treating you so well, but in the end, he’s only doing his job.

“try not to move so much.” nanami holds you still, bringing your thoughts back to the present. his voice lowers in pitch, just a whisper when he adds, “i know you can be good for me.”

and that—you swallow thickly. you can’t tell if nanami said it on purpose or if you're just interpreting it the wrong way because you're starting to get all hot and bothered now, fighting to keep your growing arousal in check.

but nanami only moves on as normal. he slides both hands down one of your legs, then back up. he does the same for the other leg. again and again, he continues, alternating between the right and left sides. each time, his hands seem to move further inward until he’s fully concentrated on the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

for a brief second, nanami's hands snake under your towel, brushing against your ass. it happens so quickly that he has already retreated before you can even process it. but then it’s there again—a slight pressure on your ass, just grazing it with his fingertips. so light that it could be passed off as an accident. this time, you gasp, feeling tingles spread from the place of contact.

“does it feel good?” nanami's voice is suddenly right beside you, whispering in your ear. the tone is low and sultry—seductive, even. there’s something inherently sexual about those choice of words, the way he says it, the implications behind them.

“ah—y-yeah.” you shudder making a physical effort to keep your breathing even. “feels good.”

satisfied, nanami asks, “want me to keep going?”

and, you think, is this really happening? maybe you were wrong about him. maybe he's not as serious as you thought he'd be, because he clearly knows what he's doing to you. he has to… right?

your heart is racing, and all nanami does is wait patiently for your answer. so, you shift on the bed, spreading your legs apart just the slightest, but it’s an obvious invitation that you know nanami will pick up on. “please.”

without even seeing him, you just know that nanami is smirking.

you moan when he slicks his hands with more oil and begins to run them along your thighs again. heat rushes between your legs and you hadn’t noticed until now, but there’s definitely a wetness there. and it’s not just from the oil—you're dripping, no doubt caused by nanami's sensual motions.

the rational part of you thinks, fuck. this is so inappropriate. you shouldn’t be getting aroused from this, all turned on and riled up in a massage parlor of all places. but the two of you have already gone well past what’s appropriate and there’s no denying that you want more.

“mm… n-nanami,” you try to convey with urgency.

"kento," he corrects you. "call me kento."

shuddering, you moan out, "kento."

nanami's breath hitches at the sound of his name around your lips and it's the first real sign that he's affected by all this, too.

“good girl,” he says, voice low and soothing. the praise sends shivers up your spine. “just relax and focus on my hands.”

it’s not like you can really concentrate on anything else even if you wanted to, especially with the way nanami is being so distracting. your mind is going blank more often than not, but still, you have to ask, “i-is this something you do regularly with your clients?”

“give massages? that’s kind of my job.” nanami chuckles, hands never stopping even once. he’s deliberately missing the point, even though it’s obvious that he’s aware how this is quickly veering away from being a normal session. “now, stop thinking so much and just feel.”

his hands meet in the middle where they rub along your inner thighs, brushing against the sensitive skin, sliding dangerously close to your pussy. moaning, you let himself get lost in the sensations, finally giving in.

“ngh—there,” you mumble. “o-oh… fuck…”

“that’s it, let yourself enjoy it. there’s nothing to be worried about.” nanami's movements have grown more daring, not at all matching his words. “remember, this is just a massage.”

nanami moves higher and higher, nudging the towel until it’s riding up on your hips, exposing your ass fully. he pauses as if to admire the view before warm hands caress your cheeks, rubbing in circular motions. the oil makes everything feel even better, a smooth glide across your skin as anticipation boils inside you.

it’s hard to tell how long this goes on for. nanami seems content just touching you, holding the mounds of your ass in his hands and alternating between gentle scrapes of his fingertips and hard squeezes with his palms.

soon, the rhythm of his movements begins to change, and it takes you a moment to realize that nanami is subtly spreading your pussy apart. you hold your breath as he trails a finger slowly, slowly along the outside of your opening.

“you have a nice pussy,” nanami says appreciatively, almost like he’s just making normal conversation, and you go hot at the compliment. “so wet and tight…”

fuck. you can’t help it; arousal washes through you and you have to bite back a moan as nanami continues working his magic. you're being seduced—every dirty word insinuating something more is calculated, every touch on your body is meant to break you down—and you're hardly even resisting. the sexual tension is palpable in the air. it’s no surprise that you can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter.

you swallow, mouth dry. you remind yourself to take slow, steady breaths.

it’s just a massage, you think helplessly as nanami brushes past your pussy again and again and again, merciless in his assault, leaving you trembling on the bed. without fail, your body flinches every time those skilled fingers come in contact with your most sensitive spot. it’s torturously repetitive, and you may know exactly what’s coming, but the effect it has on you is still the same.

just a massage, you think as nanami traces around your opening, applying almost enough pressure to push inside. groaning, you lift your hips subconsciously, trying to get him to go further. nanami only chuckles at how eager you are and removes his hands altogether. it's fucking agonizing.

just a massage, you think. except it’s not. not with the way nanami is playing with your pussy, feeling the wetness there. he brushes a single finger past your clit, igniting every nerve in your body, and you jolt at the sensation. you feel yourself throb with need, so fucking turned on.

“oh—mm, kento…”

“look at how much tension you have here,” nanami says. “you’re all pent up, aren’t you? is that why you’re… looking for some release?”

moaning, you're finding it increasingly harder to concentrate on anything other than the hands that are teasing you. and it is teasing—every action slow and languid like nanami has all the time in the world to take you apart. you can’t help but get impatient, frustrated at the fact that you're both still keeping up the pretense of treating this like a regular appointment.

because what you really want is for nanami to pound you into the bed already, use those skilled hands of his to slip inside you and finger you as deep as he can go. talk dirty to you as the two of you fuck while forcing yourselves to be quiet at the same time in case anyone could hear them from outside the room. god, just imagining it has you getting more wet, your pussy pulsing and begging for more of his contact.

any chance you had of holding back is gone. you're only getting more turned on by the minute, given the suggestive tone of nanami's words and the way he seems to know all of your weak spots, taking full advantage of them. fuck, nanami has made you so horny.

but nanami seems to decide that he’s done playing with your pussy for now. he goes back to rubbing your ass, then shifts to your lower back, higher until he reaches your shoulder blades. and down after that, both palms flat, drawing parallel lines on either side of your spine, over your ass, along your legs.

squirming on the spot, you wait rather impatiently for nanami to touch you where you want it again. but what he does next surprises you—he pulls at the towel and wraps it tightly around your waist, securing it in place as if nothing had happened. then he steps back and clears his throat.

nanami says, simply, “all done.”

"wh-wha—?” your eyes flutter open for the first time since you started. your head is still clouded with arousal as you turn around to try and get a look at nanami.

“your session is over,” he informs you like he didn’t purposely stop as soon as he got you all worked up. “you can get dressed and go now.”

“but i—” you pause, unsure of what to say. you don't want to leave yet. you're beyond aroused, dripping between your legs, aching for more, and you want nanami's hands back on you until you—fuck, until you come.

nanami licks his lips, eyes darkening as he takes in the desperate state you're in. “i know you might still have some… kinks you want to work out, but our time is up for today,” he says, gesturing at the clock on the wall. “please feel free to book another appointment for yourself if you'd like more of my services."

blinking, you slowly push yourself up from the bed, still processing everything. it’s true that you hadn’t exactly expected to get laid when you came for a massage, but nanami was the one who started it, and he got you to this state—so aroused and turned on that you can hardly think properly. he should take responsibility. but as it is, all nanami does is give you space to gather yourself, back turned to you as he busies himself with setting up for the next appointment.

shuffling awkwardly off the bed, you feel like you just went through one of the hottest experiences of your life only to get denied in the end. your pussy isn’t happy with it either, still throbbing between your legs, begging for attention.

"oh, one last thing," nanami says. he steps closer and closer toward you until he has you pinned against the wall, lining up your hips together and grinding into you, just once.

gasping, you throw your head back, feeling exactly how hard nanami has gotten in his pants. the contact of his erection against your aching pussy is delicious, and you let out an utterly wrecked sound, moaning openly at the much-needed friction. “ah—f-fuck—”

mouth right by you ear now, nanami whispers, “i’ll be waiting for you to come back. next time, i'll give your pussy the attention it deserves.”

as nanami steps away, you feel the muscles in your legs giving out on you. you have to hold onto the wall to stand upright. your head is swimming, dizzy with arousal from nanami's parting words, arousal reignited by his actions.

in the changing room, before putting on your clothes, you slip a hand under the towel and don't think twice as you begin to masturbate yourself, far too turned on to wait any longer. your movements are restricted, but you don't untie the towel yet because it feels more taboo this way, like you're committing a forbidden act, and it gets you off more than you'd like to admit.

the setting makes you hyperaware of your surroundings; people are constantly going back and forth in the hallway, and this is a public changeroom. someone could walk in on you at any time. fuck, the whole scenario shouldn’t be this damn hot.

you're already wet and dripping so it doesn't take much to slip a finger inside yourself, pumping it in and out, slow at first. agonizingly slow, like how nanami would do it if he were here. but even that feels so fucking good, to finally give your pussy some stimulation and relief for being pent up for so long.

breaths coming out ragged and uneven, you close your eyes and lets the desire overtake you as you add a second finger. you replay everything that nanami did during their session, the ghost of his touches still lingering on your body. warm hands up and down your back, your legs, your inner thighs… your pussy. oh, the way he deliberately didn’t give you what you wanted but still teased you, teased you, teased you. you have a lot of tension here…

and then you imagine what the two of you would do if you had more time, if you didn’t care about breaking the rules and gave yourselves over to lust completely. the heat of nanami's body flush against yours, his cock rubbing against you, penetrating you, stretching you open as he fucks you, hips moving frantically until you both inevitably come—

the visual proves to be too much and you moan, low and drawn out, free hand moving quickly to cover your mouth so that you muffle the sound of your pleasure. fuck, you want nanami so bad. you want to lie down on the bed again and spread your legs and feel those enticing fingers caress every part of your body until you're begging for his cock to go inside you. hard and rough. filthy.

your hand leaves your mouth as it trails down to circle your clit, shuddering as you play with the swollen nub there. the pace of your thrusts has sped up significantly, trembling as you lean against the wall for support. your hips rock back and forth, both hands moving in tandem as you finger yourself and pleasure your clit, chasing the high of your orgasm.

somewhere out of sight, you hear nanami talking to a stranger, a colleague, another client, maybe. it’s impossible to make out what he’s saying, but just the sound of his voice, low and sultry and so fucking seductive, is enough to send you right to the edge.

“k-kento…” you moan. god, he’s right there, on the other side of the wall. and it’s more than likely that he could hear you if you're too loud, if you lose yourself and fuck, you might as well admit it: you want nanami to hear you. you want nanami to know that you couldn’t even wait to go home because the session had been unbearable for you and you're just that horny. you would give anything to drag him in here and beg him to make you come.

and it’s coming, your release; you're really feeling it now. your pussy is throbbing hard and fuck, fuck, you're close. so dangerously close. moans spill out of your mouth, panting as you thrust into yourself even faster. you can’t take it anymore. you can’t hold on any longer. your hand draws tight circles around your clit, and a jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine, and then your hips are stuttering, head thrown back, mouth falling open as it all rushes through you at once. o-oh, fuck—

you come to the image of nanami fucking you hard in your mind, smooth rolls of his hips as his cock pushes deep into you, again and again. you come all over your hand, your arousal dripping down your leg, onto the floor. the noise that slips past your lips would be embarrassing if it didn’t feel so fucking good.

slowly regaining your breath and returning to your senses, you look down at the mess you've made, a puddle of your wetness beneath you. you clean yourself up as best as you can and quickly get dressed, grabbing all of your belongings and heading to the door.

as soon as you step outside the changing room, you stop in your tracks. because waiting by the entrance is nanami, alone. the other person must have left already. nanami isn’t saying anything, but the expression on his face tells you that he knows exactly what you've done.

swallowing hard, you walk past him, all the way to the main lobby and out the door of the massage parlor. your pussy is still throbbing faintly in your pants, a lingering echo of your orgasm. you think about the towel and the wetness on the floor you left behind in the changing room for nanami to find, proof of your desire and lust. the self-pleasure you indulged in while fantasizing about nanami.

next time, you think with resolve, you won’t be getting off on your own in a locked room. you're going to have the real thing.

next time… you’ll make sure that nanami won’t be able to resist fucking you.

after you’ve left, nanami runs a hand through his hair and lets out a shaky breath, cursing. he doesn’t know what came over him. as part of his job, he sees a lot of naked bodies, but he’s always been able to keep a distance and maintain a sense of professionalism. but you—the minute he first saw you, he couldn’t deny his attraction to your body, and that feeling only grew over time as he got started on your massage.

he loved the feeling of lathering oil all over your body, running his hands over your smooth skin and around your curves like he couldn’t get enough of you. he loved watching as you relaxed under his touch, as you undeniably became more and more turned on when he took his time teasing you.

just thinking about it again has him groaning. he glances down at his shorts, at the obvious tent between his legs. the bulge there is obscene, fabric stretched to its limit, and he feels like he could burst at any moment. there’s a wet spot where the tip is and and the fabric shifts as he twitches. he doesn’t remember the last time he had been this painfully hard.

and nanami tries to resist, he really does, but he can’t take it anymore. he’s so fucking aroused that he can’t think straight at all. pushing down his pants, he lets out a sigh once his cock is finally free, springing up now that it’s no longer restricted within its confines.

it stands tall between his legs, rigid and rock hard, curving upward. the veins are prominent and he’s leaking uncontrollably, precum pooling at the head and spilling down his shaft in a steady stream.

standing by the bed where you had been lying not long ago, nanami closes his eyes and thinks of you in his mind. he doesn’t touch himself yet; instead, his hands start on his neck, trailing down to his collarbones and chest, pausing to play with his nipples. the jolt of pleasure there causes his cock to twitch in anticipation. then he goes further, down his stomach to his hips, brushing against the base of his cock...

his hips thrust forward into the air, into nothing, as he imagines himself climbing on top of you on the bed, pinning your hands so that you can’t escape. he lines up his cock with your pussy and pushes into your entrance slowly, slowly.

here, nanami finally allows a hand to touch himself. he’s waited long enough; he’s about to go crazy with arousal and can’t fucking take it anymore. fingers wrapping around his length, he gives himself a firm squeeze, moaning, feeling his cock throbbing hard in return.

and then he snaps, the last bit of his self-control withering away. he pumps his cock with purpose, fast, faster, until his hips start moving in time with his hand, bucking forward at every stroke. he’s fucking you, fucking into that tight pussy of yours, watching as you squirm and tremble and moan beneath him.

breathing hard, nanami twists his hand and circles his cockhead. the action makes his hips stutter, a rush of pleasure washing over him. his whole body is burning hot. he’s getting close, working himself right up to the edge, so close to coming now—

his balls feel so heavy and full. he has to use his free hand to hold onto the side of the bed as he feels his knees going weak, stroking steadily, never stopping or slowing down. his cock aches, throbbing in his grasp. one finger swipes over his slit and his mouth falls open, head thrown back as he whines and cries out.

he thinks about what you’d look like when you come, begging him for your release. p-please, kento, fuck me harder—i need your cock—i-i’m so close, i’m gonna—gonna come—

“f-fuck,” he grunts. and nanami is coming with you, choking out a broken moan as his cock pulses and pulses. with two more strokes, all the tension in his body is released at once, ropes of white splattering in front of him. he comes in spurts, emptying everything he has all over the massage bed, and it’s absolutely filthy.

he’s still panting by the time he’s done, coming down from the high of his orgasm. looking around, he remembers where he is and feels dirty for jerking himself off at work. quickly, nanami cleans up the evidence, wiping and sanitizing the bed so that it’ll be presentable for future appointments.

looking at the door, he’s grateful that no one walked in on him because he’s not sure whether or not he would’ve been able to stop in the moment. it had felt so good. he had been so fucking horny, all because of you.

he doesn’t regret doing it. he just can’t let it happen again.

part 2 and 3 coming soon!

tag list: @megumisdivinedogs @urlilwhore @l0rdgeosupport3rr @purple-obsidian

(comment to be added)

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk smut #jjk imagine #nanami kento #nanami smut #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #naughtyjjk

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literaila · 2 days

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When do you think in the family au that Gojo realized he was in love?

I live for your au btw, I’m patient and respectful, you should never feel pressured to update or post!!! But also I literally check every day to see if you graced us with more 🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵🩵

satoru is sitting on the love seat in the common room, pouting.

okay, sure. he’s known for his ability to talk until the sun goes down, but honestly, he’s not that bad. really, he could talk forever, about whatever he wanted, to anyone.

but he was only explaining the mechanics of infinity. for… a half an hour, maybe.

his friends suck.

what could be more interesting than him? nanami’s recipe for onigiri?

still, when you walk over to him, flopping into the space next to him—which is occupying his foot, thank you—he brightens just a little bit.

is it so bad to want attention?

“you know,” you start, while satoru tries to dig his foot from under you. “if you actually listen to people when they talk, they’re usually more inclined to listen to you.”

“oh, is that how it works?” satoru grunts. “i had no idea.”

“clearly.”

“you listen to me, even though i’ve barely ever spoken to you.”

you raise a brow at him. “do you have amnesia? you sit outside my door on the weekends for hours until i let you in. i’ve heard you singing to yourself out there.”

“that’s not a conversation.”

you nudge him, a lax smile on your face. “being interesting also helps, if you want people to listen to you.”

“hey, i’m interesting!”

“mm…” you nod your head, looking away subtly. “for sure, satoru.”

“you’re supposed to be my friend, you know? friends don’t bully each other.”

you look back at him, tilting your head. “that must be why you don’t have any.”

at that, satoru’s lip twitches a little. but it’s not because he finds you amusing, no. it’s just that… sometimes you look at him and he—

it doesn’t matter.

“did you come over here just to torment me?” he pouts, arms still crossed. but his eyes are much more active now, his face trying to be a sly thing that it isn’t.

“no, you just looked a little lonely.”

“awww,” satoru leans down so you can see his eyelashes fluttering at you. “were you worried about me?”

“i could just already hear the complaining,” you retort, rolling your eyes again.

“are you psychic, too?”

“yup,” you pop, grabbing something from behind your back. “which is why i also brought you this.”

you hand him a blueberry ramune, which just so happens to be his favorite.

satoru gasps like a child being given their favorite toy, taking it from you immediately. he opens it, and then pauses. “wait… what’d you do to this?”

you scoff. “geez, satoru. do you get poisoned often?”

“i have many enemies.”

“oh, right. i forgot. you’re well hated.”

satoru smirks, leaning almost over you. “not by you, though. you like me.”

you push him away with a finger. “you just looked pale. like, even more pale than usual.”

“that’s rude.”

“drink up,” you tell him, but only as you try to grab it from him. satoru relishes the feeling of you leaning over him. “we wouldn’t want you to go thirsty,” you say, but with a sickly sweetness.

“this is not making me feel any less threatened.”

you laugh, sitting back.

“you even got my favorite one, too.”

“that’s just a coincidence. though, you would like the worst flavor.”

“this is nearing harassment,” satoru says. “if you’re stalking me, i’m going to have to tell yaga.”

this time when you laugh, you snort, and you lean over again, but only to clutch your stomach.

satoru smiles along with you, and he feels… almost alive. more than a vessel of power, for just a moment.

and yeah, maybe it’s not just attention that satoru likes.

maybe it’s you.

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #a typical family

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scoonsalicious · 2 days

Text

Unwanted: Chapter 25, Unprotected - Pt. 3

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language,

WARNING: THIS PART HAS A MAJOR THEME THAT SHOULD HAVE A WARNING, BUT I DO NOT WANT TO SPOIL THE PLOT. THEREFORE, IF THERE IS SOMETHING YOU FEAR YOU MAY NOT BE ABLE TO HANDLE, *PLEASE* DM ME FOR THE WARNING BEFORE READING!

Word Count: 1.7k

Previously On...: Uh... something went horribly wrong.

A/N: BUCKY IS BACK, and just in time <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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You weren’t sure what woke you up– the incessant beeping or the dull ache between your legs.

“Ugh, Sam, turn off your fucking alarm clock,” you muttered, pulling your blanket above your head. When had the apartment lights gotten so hideously bright? “Sam’s not here, doll. ‘Fraid it’s just me.”

Your eyes shot open at the sound of his voice, and you slowly pulled the blanket down from your face. You were lying on a bed in the middle of a hospital suite, and Bucky Barnes was sitting in an armchair in the corner. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t done anything but worry and fret since arriving.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you asked him, fighting to keep your voice steady. You’d hoped time would have helped lessen the pain you felt at the sight of him, but no– he still tore at your heart.

“You never changed your emergency contact,” he said, getting up from his chair to sit at the edge of your bed. Lovely. You were going to have to re-traumatize yourself because you hadn’t been assed to update fucking paperwork.

You rubbed your eyes with your hands. “What happened?” you asked.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” Bucky said. He reached for you but you, but you pulled away, leaving him to frown at the space where your hand had been. “All they would tell me was that your distress beacon was activated, and when SHIELD operatives responded to your safehouse, they found you passed out in a pool of blood. They had you in surgery when I got here.”

“Surgery?” You began patting your body, searching for bandages or stitches, some sign of an incision, but you found nothing. “I don’t feel like I had surgery.”

Bucky shrugged. “That’s all they told me. Since I’m technically not family, they wouldn’t say anything more.” You scoffed. He was a lot less than ‘technically not family’.

“Well, I’m not dead,” you said dismissively, “so no reason for you to stay.” You shooed him away with a flap of your wrists. “Go on home now.”

Bucky snorted. “All laid up in the hospital and still, you got jokes,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere. Sam called Steve on his way to the airport, told him what went down with A.J., so looks like you’re in need of a new mission partner.” The smirk behind his eyes was enough to make you sneer.

“No,” you said, crossing your arms, and you were sure you looked very intimidating in your hospital gown with an IV sticking out of your hand. “I’m good, thanks. Don’t need any help, especially not yours.”

Bucky rolled his eyes at you. “Always so stubborn,” he chided. “Doesn’t matter what you want, doll. Captain’s orders; I’m here to stay, at least until Sam gets back.”

Fucking wonderful. As if you didn’t have enough to worry about, with girls getting murdered, Hydra funding the Wiggle Room, you randomly bleeding out and collapsing, and poor A.J.’s condition still unknown. Maybe there was something so seriously wrong with you, they’d make you go back to the Tower to recover and Bucky would be forced to stay down here, alone. God, was that actually what you were hoping for, now? Your life had indeed gone to shit.

There was a soft knock on your door and a man in a white doctor’s coat and glasses entered, carrying a clipboard.

“Ms. (Y/L/N)?” he asked. When you nodded, he continued: “I’m Dr. Carson; I’ve been attending to you during your stay with us. I’m glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

You barked out a humorous laugh. “Like I’ve been thoroughly fucked by a cactus, Doc. Care to explain what the hell happened to me?”

Bucky suppressed a snort as the doctor blushed and averted his gaze. “Yes, well, it’s quite normal to experience some mild discomfort following a D&C,” he began.

You sat up straighter, positive you had misheard him. “I’m sorry,” you interrupted, “a fucking what now?” He couldn’t have said what you thought you heard him say.

Dr. Carson coughed. “A Dilation and Curettage,” he explained. “It’s a procedure to–”

“Oh, I know what it’s fucking is,” you said, raising your voice. “What I don’t understand is why I would even need one in the first place!” Except you did. There was only one reason, and it made everything make perfect sense– the vomiting, the fatigue, all of it.

Before the doctor could answer you, Bucky spoke up: “Uh, I don’t know what it is. One of you care to explain to me what the hell all this means?”

“It’s none of your fucking business, Barnes,” you grumbled, just as the doctor spoke over you:

“It’s a surgical procedure that requires dilation of the cervix and the removal of tissue from the uterus,” he said. “In this case, that would be necrotic fetal tissue.”

Jesus fucking Christ.

“Um, okay,” Bucky said as he considered the doctor’s words. You watched as the realization came over his face. “Holy shit. Fetal tissue? Like… like a baby?”

Dr. Carson nodded slowly. “Yes.” He turned back to face you. “I’m very sorry for your loss, Ms. (Y/L/N), but it appears that you’ve experienced what we call a spontaneous miscarriage. Near as we can figure, you were about sixteen weeks along.”

You brought both hands to your temples. Was this real life?

“Were you not aware you were pregnant?” the doctor asked, taking in the look of complete shock on your face. “When was the date of your last period?”

Before you could control yourself, you began laughing with the absolute absurdity of the entire situation. “I’ve been slightly preoccupied,” you managed to get out. “Between the baby’s father” you thumbed at Bucky, “cheating on me with my greatest enemy, working undercover to save a bunch of women from sex trafficking and now solving a murder, too, I guess, so forgive me if I haven’t really been keeping track.”

The look Dr. Carson gave you then was a mixture of concern and alarm, and you were fairly confident he was this close to having you held for a mandatory psych eval. Good; you could benefit from a vacation.

“Could, you, uh,” Bucky cleared his throat, “give us a moment alone, please, doctor? I’m sure Pock– I mean (Y/N) needs a minute to collect herself, to process.”

“Yes, of course,” Dr. Carson said, seeming relieved that one of you appeared sane, at least. “I’ll send a nurse over in a little while to check your vitals, and we can see about getting you discharged.”

Bucky nodded and offered the doctor his thanks on your behalf, because you were still laughing. Dr. Carson left the room, his haste evident.

“Pocket,” Bucky said, trying to get your attention, but you ignored him. “Pocket,” he tried again, this time grabbing both your shoulders in his hands and gently shaking them. “Hey, get yourself together, come on!”

Your laughter tapered away and you wiped a tear away from your eye. “Oh my god,” you exhaled. “I’m sorry, but this is just… I’ve been running around pregnant for four fucking months? Come on! That’s, like, an entire third of a year! You gotta admit, that’s fucking insane!”

Bucky studied you. “You really didn’t know?”

You snorted. “Of course not! If I knew, I wouldn’t be in this situation to begin with, because I would have taken care of it the second I found out.”

A frown took over Bucky’s face. “What do you mean, ‘take care of it’?” he asked.

“I mean, like, I would have aborted it,” you said, as though the answer was so unbelievably obvious that it was stupid of him to have even asked, but Bucky’s frown deepened. “You can’t honestly think I would have kept it?”

“It was our baby, Pocket,” he said after a beat, his voice a rough whisper. “You would have killed our baby?!”

You rolled your eyes. “What? Just because you knocked me up, I’m supposed to forget everything you put me through and play happy co-parents with you and step mommy Carthage for the next eighteen years? No fucking thank you.”

“I would have married you,” he said, and you noticed for the first time that his voice was full of sorrow, his eyes lined with tears. Jesus Christ, this was hurting him. “We would have raised him or her together. Been a family.”

You laughed, the sound harsh and awkward to your own ears. “There’s no way in hell I’d marry you,” you told him. “Not after what you did. A clump of cells doesn’t just absolve you from your sins.”

“That was our child,” Bucky said, with so much anguish in his voice that you pulled yourself back. “That was a baby we made, out of our love, and you’re talking about it like it’s… it’s inconvenient garbage.”

“Yeah, well, I guess the trash took itself out,” you said bitterly.

Bucky looked at you in abject horror. “You don’t mean that,” he said, as though trying to convince himself as much as you. “You’re… you’re in shock. You’ve been through a trauma, and you’re not thinking straight.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You don’t mean that,” he reiterated.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, James.” You turned your head away from him, not wanting to see the way he was looking at you, as if you were a complete stranger.

The suite’s door opened again, and a nurse came in, dragging a portable computer cart behind her. Saved by the vitals, you thought.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Bucky said under his breath, and you sighed, knowing that you weren’t going to be able to table this discussion for long, but not knowing what he hoped to get out of you.

He couldn’t seriously have expected you to want to have had a baby with him, could he? Not after everything. To be forced into close proximity with him for the next two decades, and be tied together for the rest of your lives with a constant reminder of what could have been, should have been, with what he prevented you from ever having? That was just… delusional.

Even though, if you had given yourself a chance to truly think about it, outside of the initial shock of it all, that was what you would have wanted, too.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #james bucky buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes #mcu bucky barnes #james barnes

122 notes · View notes

hotchnisslvr · 22 hours

Text

how do we carry on?

pairing: hotch x bau!reader

rating: m

word count: 4.8k

genre: angst, hurt no comfort

summary: emily was your confidant, your best friend. when she dies at the hands of ian doyle, you find comfort in your boyfriend, aaron. when you find out that she’s alive and that hotch had known all along, your world falls out from under you. can you and hotch come back from the decision he made for the good of the team?

*if this gains enough traction i might follow up with a pt.2 to give it a happy ending*

The criss-crossed lines of the tile floor blur together as you stare blankly between your feet. The tops of your thighs have gone numb from digging your elbows into them, using your cradled hands as a pillow for your forehead. You couldn’t go home, not until you knew.

Rossi had offered to go on a walk and get a coffee, but shitty lukewarm hospital coffee was the last thing you needed. You hadn’t meant to write him off, you just couldn’t justify doing anything to distract from the fact that she was on that operating table, that Emily’s life was literally hanging in the balance.

The rest of the team was no better off than you are right now. Penelope’s knitting needles clack relentlessly, the scarf inside of her purse growing as her hands keep busy so her mind doesn’t focus on how hard she’s trying not to cry. The last time you’d poked your head up, Derek hadn’t moved from the waiting room windowsill where he’d been standing still as a statue staring out at the cityscape. If Spencer didn’t stop shaking his leg, you feared he would wear a hole straight through the tile. JJ exits the waiting room as often as she returns, her liaising days quickly coming back, making her their only link to the operating room. Hotch’s behavior is no different. His cell rings every ten to fifteen minutes, no doubt the Bureau wanting to know how the hell this could happen. It’s the only sign that time is actually passing and you’re forced to accept that you’re not stuck in some fucked up purgatory-esque hellscape where time stands still, torturing you as your dear friend’s life teeters between worlds.

What you wanted, what you needed was for him to hold you; to place a kiss against your temple and tell you that everything would be alright. It had to be alright.

He couldn’t show favor to you though, not now. The team didn’t know about your relationship with him, though you believe a few have their suspicions. You’re all too observant for your own good. Not much goes unnoticed by anyone. So when JJ walks back into the waiting room, everyone shifts toward her to try and get a glimpse into her facial expression and body language for any sign of an update regarding Emily’s condition.

Instantly, you know something is wrong. JJ’s eyes flit from one person to the next, not lingering very long on anyone. Spencer is the first to stand and you follow suit. You close in, forming a small half circle. Behind JJ, Hotch stands in the doorway, brow straight as he folds his arms across his chest.

“JJ?” Her name is an anxious plea on Penelope’s lips.

JJ’s eyes drop to the floor as she presses her lips together. She takes a deep breath and lifts her eyes, yours the ones they land on as she speaks. “She never made it off the table.”

A choked sob echoes from Garcia as she falls into Derek’s arms, his features fixed as he stares ahead though his knuckles flush white as he holds tightly onto Penelope. Rossi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed as he mutters something to himself; a prayer, maybe. Spencer envelopes JJ in a desperate embrace, as if clinging to her will somehow make her words any less true. Afterall, how can they be? Emily can’t go down, not like this; not after all she’s survived.

Someone says your name. Your brow dips, but you don’t respond. You need to see Emily. Your feet move of their own accord, guiding you through the waiting room. Someone grabs your arm and you tug away from their grasp, set on pushing onward and finding the OR.

Someone repeats your name, and you can’t help but latch on to the deep tenor that belongs to Hotch. You halt in your tracks and close your eyes, tears leaking over your eyelids and down your cheeks.

“I need to talk to Emily,” you say, your voice small.

The way Hotch says your name is laced with pity and you hate the way it sounds on his tongue. He pulls gently on your arm in an attempt to reel you into him, but you resist. You bite your lip to still its trembling. Yanking your arm free, you press on into the hallway and stumble toward the double doors that read in bold letters: Authorized Personnel Only. Fuck that. You’ve got a badge, that’s authority enough. Before you can push through, firm hands twist around your arms.

You push back, but their grip tightens. “Stop,” Hotch urges authoritatively. You turn into him and pound your fist against his chest, a sob cracking free from your mouth. “She’s not gone,” you cry. “She’s not gone. She’s not—” Your legs tremble with the wave of grief that crashes over you and you can’t hold your weight as it does so. Falling to your knees, Hotch reacts. His arms fold around your waist, catching you as you collapse into the wide plane of his chest. Your ribs ache as your lungs inflate with each rapid, sobbing breath. Your vision turns fuzzy at the edges as you try and fail to slow your breathing. It feels like you’re dying as the waves of grief assail you over and over again, battering you, body and mind, in an unrelenting tumultuous current of sorrow and pain as the wicked reality sets in. Emily is dead. You barely feel Hotch’s hand in your hair cradling you against him. As he murmurs apologies and sympathies in your ear, you don’t see the weighted look he exchanges with JJ.

•

The funeral comes and goes. The day is too beautiful for Emily not to be there to see it. You sit on the porch at Hotch’s house, breathing in and out as you watch the daffodils dance in the afternoon breeze. You smooth the fabric of your dress down over your knees, the satin wrinkled from the way you clenched it during the service.

Your phone buzzes in your purse. The number of messages and phone calls you’d ignored continues to rise, but you can’t bring yourself to express any gratitude for their condolences. You can’t bring yourself to feel anything except the crushing weight of grief.

You picture Emily sitting beside you on the wooden porch swing. Last Summer, you’d sat here with her as the team gathered for a Fourth of July Barbecue. Jack had made invitations and delivered them to the team at the office. He’d been so excited and so were you. It was around then that you and Hotch had begun to toe the line between colleagues and something more; a morning coffee dropped off at your desk here, an extra visit to his office there. You’d sat here with Emily watching as Rossi backseat barbecued Hotch on the grill. She’d caught you smiling at him alongside the fondness in your gaze. She’d clocked you from a mile away.

“Oh, you’ve got it bad.” Her laugh had tinkled from lips, ringing like a morning bell.

“What are you talking about?” you’d asked, trying and failing to school your features into a mask of indifference.

“I’ll tell ya, it’s a big swing, but if you hit it, that’s a home run for sure.”

You’d nearly choked on your lemonade, coughing and gasping; drawing the attention of the others.

“Wrong pipe!” Emily had called while pointing at you and clapping a hand against your back. “She’s good!” In a low voice she’d added, “Though I’m sure with him, it’d be just the right pipe.”

You’d elbowed her in the ribs and bust out laughing together. For the longest time after that, she’d been the only person that you’d confided in about your burgeoning feelings and relationship with Aaron. Through that, she’d quickly become your closest friend on the team.

A couple of kids shout at one another, laughing, as they ride past the house on their bicycles; shattering the memory. You dip into your purse and withdraw your phone, pressing a button and powering it down. The screen door creaks on its hinges and Hotch steps down onto the porch, the planks shifting beneath his weight. He sits beside you and offers you a mug. The scent of coffee reaches your nose and you accept it, thanking him quietly. Aaron had taken his suit jacket off and loosened his tie. He stretches an arm around your shoulder and draws closer to you. He kisses the side of your face and stares out at the yard.

“It was a beautiful service,” he offers.

“Aaron, don’t.” You close your eyes and take a breath. You hold the coffee with both hands, rubbing your thumbs up and down the warm ceramic. “Please don’t make small talk with me about this like it’s all so fucking normal.”

He sighs and apologizes. “I just wish I could make all of your hurt go away.”

A shudder runs through you and you nestle in closer to him, taking a sip of your coffee as you do so. “I don’t think it’ll ever go away.”

•

Her brown eyes stare back at you, though the photo paper could never capture the light that flared within them when she was alive. Of all the faces you could have seen up on this wall, you’d never anticipated hers being one of them.

Every day you stop by her portrait on the wall of fallen heroes. People talk about her less and less around the office. The team doesn’t stop, though your conversations are stilted and often end in awkward silences; no one really knowing how to carry on once the conversation slows to a natural end. You speak often with Spencer about the ways in which you’ve been grieving, the sleepless nights and early mornings. Derek is reserved. He’s angry above anything else. He feels betrayed by Emily and a part of you understands that. She’d not told any of you after all. You’d be remiss if you’d not also spent some of your time grieving in anger. Of all the times you’d stayed late after work, gotten together to hang out on weekends, or gone out for drinks, she had never indicated anything was wrong. You had told her everything, confided every one of your fears and hopes into her and you’d thought that the street had been going both ways. God, you’d never been so wrong.

“Conference room in fifteen,” Aaron says as he walks past you, hand grazing your back as he does so.

You smile tightly and nod, glancing once more at Emily’s photo before making your way to your desk in the bullpen, ignoring the fact hers still sits empty and unoccupied beside yours. How has it been three months already?

•

“Emily!”

Your eyes dart around the room frantically searching as your heart thunders in your ears. You feel the organ pounding against your ribcage, threatening to break free of it. It only takes a second for you to realize it had been a dream.

Aaron rolls over and sits up, threading an arm around your back and rubbing your hip with his fingers. “Another nightmare?” he asks, words tinged with sleepiness.

You nod, yawning as you rub your eyes. The dreams are further apart, but at least every other week her face haunts your subconscious. You can’t help but wonder if it’s some sort of self-punishment as life goes on and the days get easier.

In reality, you don’t know if it’s easier or if you’ve just forced yourself to become numb to it all, compartmentalizing the pain of losing your best friend because if you didn’t you don’t think you’d be able to leave the house and do what you do day after day.

“Are the appointments with the therapist helping?” he asks.

Another question you don’t know the answer to. On some level, yes. Talking to someone who knows nothing about you or her or anyone else on the team is good. You don’t have to walk on eggshells, worried you're going to dig open a wound the others are equally fighting to heal by talking about her or how much you miss her or wish she was here. On another level, you don’t open up fully to the doctor. There are some layers of this injury you don’t want to see heal and scar over. If you do that, it’s like you’re telling Emily that you’re over her death, as if it’s something as easy as that, something you just get over. No, some things need to stay fresh, to serve as a reminder that Ian Doyle is still out there. The man who took your best friend away from you and your BAU family is breathing and she’s not. You clench your fists, the sheets balling up in your hands as your resentment burns deep inside you. Yes, that’s it, the idea of him walking around thinking he’s gotten away with this is enough to stoke the flames simmering deep inside you.

You take a deep breath, mentally imagining the flames subsiding, and they do. They dial down, but they don’t disappear. You glance down at Aaron, who snores softly beside you. His fingers still curl around your hip and a faint smile graces your lips. He tries, you know he does, but this is exhausting for everyone. He bears the brunt of it at the office. He fought to be the one to meet with the team and conduct the grief interviews, not wanting a stranger to come in and sift through your friends’ and colleagues’ pain over what happened. God knows how much bureaucratic red tape he had gotten tangled in right after the fact, the higher ups demanding how such a blunder could occur right under their noses. Aaron had put out the fires though, as he always did. Reaching around his back, you withdraw his hand from your hip and tuck it by his side, not before pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

You glance at the clock before lying back down. 4:15AM blinks back at you on the digital clock face. In forty five minutes the alarm will go off and it’ll be another day at the office. Settling down into the pillows, you press your back into Aaron’s body, yours molding against the planes of his as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

His arms slinks around your waist and pulls you in as if you can get any closer than you already are. He tucks his chin over your shoulder and his lips brush against your jawline.

“I love you,” he whispers and you relax into the safety of his embrace.

“I love you, too, Aaron.”

•

Nights are hard when Aaron is gone. Pakistan is nine hours ahead and all Hotch has to communicate with anyone is a satellite phone, the number for which you don’t have access to. Whenever Hotch calls, the caller ID flashes the word ‘Unknown’ across your screen. There have been several times you’ve missed him due to being asleep or at work. Each call missed feels like being sucker punched. Every time you talk, a part of you worries it’ll be the last time. You didn’t use to have this fear, not until Emily. Despite staring death in the face on a week by week basis, most of the time playing Russian Roulette with the Grim Reaper himself in each unsub you cross paths with, somehow you never thought he’d actually take someone you love from you; that he’d take down one of the team. You never thought there’d be a last conversation with Emily, and now she’s dead.

Dead. The word is a heavy stone, sinking from the cusps of your mind to the pit of your stomach. It sits there, a persistent ache idling deep inside of you. It never relents and it never allows you to forget.

There are nights you dream that Aaron is dead too, that somewhere far away and beyond your control, he’s dying on the ground, bleeding out, and no one knows. You don’t even know what he’s working on and he can’t say; despite your relationship there are still levels in which Hotch’s clearance supersedes your own and the need-to-know red tape keeps you out. Afraid to close your eyes and dream of his unseeing, you stare at the blades of the ceiling fan whirling lazily overhead of the bed you usually share with him.

“I miss you,” you whisper to no one; and you don’t know who you’re talking to anymore.

•

“He’s back?” your heart flutters in your chest, equal parts excited and anxious at the prospect of Aaron’s sudden return. You push off your desk and swivel in your chair to stand, rushing down the hall and leaving Reid behind as you make your way hastily to the conference room.

The door is cracked and a gleeful sound eeks past your lips as his tall frame comes into view. You slip in before anyone else arrives and throw your arms around you. Inhaling deeply, his familiar teakwood scent envelopes you just as his arms do. You move to pull away, but his arms tighten around you.

“A second more,” he whispers, and there’s an edge to his voice.

You write it off to jet lag and sink into his embrace, though you notice how slight he feels against you. Finally, you pull back and cup his face in your hands. The scruff of his beard is prickly and you laugh as you take in his rugged appearance. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you with this much facial hair.” You swipe your thumbs over the hair on his lip and he tilts his head, kissing the inside of your hand. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply before lifting them to meet yours. It's then you realize how tired he looks. The bags under his eyes are puffy and purple, almost as if they’re bruised. His forehead is creased, brow furrowed; definitely not how you pictured him upon reuniting.

“Aaron is everything ok—”

“I need you to know I would never hurt you,” he says quickly, interrupting you.

You purse your lips, brow pinching at the sudden admission. As your lips part to speak he directs a pointed look at you, the depths of his brown eyes wavering. “I love you,” his voice cracks, “so much.” He swallows, his throat bobbing as he does so. “Please remember that.”

There’s a hollow feeling in your gut, a chasm opening wide where every anxious and painful thought that you’ve tried to keep buried since he’s been gone begins to claw their way out as a thousand different outcomes play out in front of you. “Aaron, what’s going on?”

He doesn’t answer your question as the rest of the team trickles into the room, sitting at the round table or standing as suspense fills the space. It’s tangible. Everyone’s posture is rigid and tense in anticipation of whatever it is he has to say.

“Seven months ago I made a decision that impacted everyone on this team,” he begins, eyes firm.

Spencer shifts uncomfortably beside you. Rossi leans forward, fingers steepled under his chin.

“As you all know, Emily had lost a lot of blood,” Hotch continues and your ears prick at the sound of her name. Why would he bring her up? No less, her condition the day you all lost her. You all know this.

“…the doctor’s were able to stabilize her.”

Your lips part but no sound comes out as you raise your eyes to meet his. They meet yours for the briefest of seconds before flitting on to the others.The next words to leave his mouth sound far away, interrupted by the blood now pounding in your eardrums. “She stayed there until she was well enough to travel…given identities…”

There’s a lump in your throat and you feel as though you may choke on it. Air doesn’t seem to be able to bypass it and you have to remind yourself that you can breathe even though it feels like all the oxygen has vacated your lungs.

Penelope is the first to speak. “She’s alive?”

Spencer’s brow quirks as he tries to rationalize what’s being said to him. “We buried her.”

You did. You helped carry the casket. You felt the weight of her dead body and watched it sink into the earth. If that wasn’t her, what the fuck or who the fuck did you actually put in the ground?”

“As I said I take full responsibility for this decision,” Hotch continues, eyes downcast. “If anyone has any issues they should be directed towards me.”

The blood pounding in your ears is deafening. When Hotch looks up, you search his eyes and can’t help wondering if you know him at all. All of the nights you literally made yourself sick from crying and he held your hair back as you dry heaved over the toilet and your body spasmed from the grief of losing your best friend, he’d known that she was alive. For a moment, you think you may be sick right there at the round table at the thought of it all. Derek is speaking, his voice tight with anger but you don’t hear him. Heads turn and the hairs on the back of your neck prickle as a haunting feeling creeps up the back of your spine.

Turning around in your chair, everyone else stands but not you. If you do, you know your knees will buckle and fall out from under you. Spencer and Penelope are on their feet, moving briskly to greet the ghost of Emily.

Except she’s not a ghost. Her skin is not the cold blue-gray pallor of death, but pink and bright, the blood beneath her flesh very much pumping through a heart that’s beating. Her dark brown hair is sleek and shining, her bangs grown out and styled; her part now to the right. You watch her arms fold around Spencer and the way he squeezes her in turn. Penelope follows suit, tears streaming down her cheeks as she smiles widely. Derek stares on, features fixed in a cross between anger and shock. Emily approaches him with apprehension. An apology leaves her lips as she draws him in for a hug and his arms tentatively wrap around her. When she turns to you, your muscles tense. Those deep brown irises flicker back and forth across your face, searching for a reaction. You don’t give her one. Instead, you push past her, avoiding any and all physical contact with her, and dip out of the conference room.

You hear Garcia call your name and Derek shouts about having a case. You don’t care. You bypass your desk, not even bothering to get your purse. Your keys are hanging on a carabiner on your belt loop. Ignoring the elevator, you shove your way through the entrance to the stairs and move down them so quickly you’re surprised you don’t lose your footing and tumble down them. Down and around you go, your footsteps echoing as your heart slams against your ribcage. You slap your badge against the keypad that lets you exit the building, ignoring the greeting from the security guard at the front. As you push through the front doors of the office building, you barely make it to the bushes before you fall to your knees and retch.

•

A car door slams followed by the double beep which locks them. You close your eyes and inhale deeply as you prepare to face him, hands clenching around the sweater you were packing. A tear slips free from your eye as you breathe out and look toward the ceiling, as if the answers to why all of this had to happen are written up there. This is not how your reunion is supposed to be. You’d pictured his homecoming for weeks; thought about the outfit you’d wear to dinner and the lingerie you’d bought to wear just for him when you both got home, opened a bottle of wine, and made up for all of the time lost while he was away. That is how tonight is supposed to go.

Now you’re leaving, and you don’t know if you’ll be coming back.

The lock on the front door jiggles before the gears click into place. It squeaks on its hinges as it swings open. Five beeps follow and you can picture his fingers pressing against each button on the alarm system. His keys clatter as he drops them on the table. As his footsteps edge closer to your bedroom, you count each one. The sound that usually means safety and security, now sends a shiver of anxiety throughout your body.

He appears in the doorway, eyes rife with exhaustion and the bags beneath them puffy and swollen. His cheeks are flushed and his nose is pink, as if he’d been crying. Maybe he had been, god knows you had. His eyes flit between you and the bag you’re packing. His lips part and a small sound of desperation slips past them.

“Baby, please—”

You hold up a hand, curling your fingers into a fist. Your lip curls as you speak. “Don’t,” you breathe. You swallow the lump that quickly forms in your throat as you drop your hand, zipping the bag shut.

The inner corners of his brow draw upward and you can hardly stand to look into his pleading gaze.

“You have to understand—”

“Understand, what? Aaron?” You ask sharply, struggling to hold back the thick hot tears pricking the backs of your eyes.

He places a hand on his hip, fingers tucking back the fold of his unbuttoned shirt as his thumb hooks into his belt; a gesture you’re all too familiar with as he does the same thing with all of his suits. His other hand rises to pinch the bridge of his nose. He pauses, inhaling as he tries to find the words. After a moment, he scrubs a hand over his face and turns his gaze to yours.

“I wanted to tell you so badly,” he says. When he looks at you there are tears in his eyes. “I hated myself, watching the agony this decision put you and the team through. I wanted to tell you and take away your hurt, but I couldn’t. It wouldn’t have been fair to the team. Just because you’re my girlfriend, I can’t—” He turns his hand and slams his hand against the doorframe causing you to flinch. “Dammit!”

Your voice is soft, but sure when you speak. “You can’t bend the rules.”

It’s what you’ve always worried about, both of you. You always knew the job could come first, especially with him being the Unit Chief. You always understood that that meant no preferential treatment and that is something you never would’ve asked him to do. You just never anticipated it happening like this, a complete and total life altering mind fuck.

Aaron drops his hand and it slaps against his thigh in defeat as it falls to his side. “What was I supposed to do?”

You cross your arms over your chest, fingers curling over your biceps to try and still your shaking hair. You hang your head and a curtain of hair falls across your face, “I don’t know, Aaron.”

He kicks off the doorway, moving towards you with his hands outstretched. It happens without thinking, the way you flinch away. Pain flashes in his eyes and you feel as though you’ve been punched in the stomach the way it’s suddenly hard to breathe.

His hip is close to yours, his body angled away from you. You can feel the weight of his gaze on your shoulder as he looks down. “Don’t do this,” he whispers.

Your lip quivers, chin wobbling in response to the tears you’re trying so desperately to hold back. “I have vacation I’d been saving.” You pick up your bag and throw it over your shoulder, not daring to look up at him because you know if you do you’ll shatter into a thousand shards of glass at his feet.

As you move toward the door, you pause. For a split second, you entertain the thought of dropping your bag, running across the room he’d chased you around so many times before, and throwing yourself around him. You consider all the things you want to say and scream and cry about; all of your anger, sadness, betrayal, grief, and love. You crave him so terribly in that moment because his have always been the arms you’ve run to when things become too much to bear.

Instead, your chin dips toward your shoulder as you speak, but you don’t raise your eyes to meet his. If you do, you don’t think you’ll be able to leave. “My gun and badge are in the safe.”

As you make your way down the hallway, you have to bite your knuckles to stifle a sob just as you hear one leave his lips from the bedroom.

You don’t turn back.

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nightsmarish · 2 days

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Summary: as summer at hogwarts approaches, both you and Regulus build up your walls again, lose sleep, and are warry of saying yes to the offer to go to Potter Manor.

A/n: might write a pt.2? Would we like that? Maybe? Idk, I lost the plot halfway through and u can tell lmao. Also, have not written for this specific ship, so I may not be as good as the queen of this ship

Update!: pt2

Poly!moonwater x gn!reader (Remus lupin x regulus black x reader) | 1.6k words

Tw: allusions to toxic family, losing sleep, snippy bc of losing sleep, negative thoughts, anxiety, a nap dude

⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆⊹₊ ✰ ⋆

History of Magic is usually an easy subject. Sit down, take notes, look over the assignment, complete it during dinner or before bed, and you're done.

But today everything but that is happening. You managed to get all the way to sitting down and pulling out your parchment and quill before the words Professor Binns says all mesh together. Nothing makes sense.

And you know it's due to the ache behind your eyes, the pounding in your head and the ache in your bones.

The last few nights you haven't slept, not really at least. It's nearing the end of this year at Hogwarts so everyone is preparing to go home. Planning what they will do with one another over break before the new year starts up. Talking about their family traditions, and a feeling of excitement takes the castle.

Despite this, a feeling of dread has been following you like your own personal rain cloud. The knowledge you'll have to return home eating you alive. Knowing you won't be able to contact Remus or Regulus, less your parents find out you're dating them, making you feel like you're choking on your heart.

The memories you've made this year really should weigh out the weeks you will spend with your family. In the stiff place, you're forced to call home with strict rules and expectations. Yet, you feel horrible. And it's been causing you to force yourself into your studies for the upcoming tests. Avoiding sleep due to nightmares that have recently plagued your mind.

Which leads to now, the room spinning slowly on an axis, ans Professor Binns slightly to blurry, even for a ghost. You know you need to zone back in, drink some water, take a vitamin potion or even visit Madam Pomfrey at this rate. Yet you can't make yourself do it.

Continuing to stay in your zoned out state till the end of class. And that's when even you draw the line.

Standing up from your seat as everyone filters out, albeit a little you're moving a little slower than usual, you exit in search of your boyfriends. Either or both. And it's not exactly a very long search, quickly finding yourself face to face with Regulus Black and Remus Lupin.

"Hey, dove." Remus' voice is sweet, per usual, like the comfort of a spoon full of honey on a sore throat.

Regulus doesn't speak for a full moment, analyzing you. To anyone else it would look judgmental, but the softness in his eyes and slight pull at the edge of his lips tell you differently.

"Hi, Rem." The boys look at one another, an unspoken conversation playing out.

"Why don't we go to my dorm?" Remus looks back to you, "haven't had much time for the three of us. James and Sirius have quidditch, and Peter is going to his study group."

"I'm down." Without another word, the three of you walk towards Gryffindor tower.

ᯓ★

Remus knows that Regulus tends to be a little quieter the closer to the end of the year, having been around the other Black brother for a while now. Already knowing how closed off Sirius would get when he still lived at the Black Manor, building up the walls early to protect himself when he left.

Even now, Sirius does it. Remus isn't sure if it's a habit or the fact that Regulus has been refusing to take the offer to stay at Potter Manor as well.

But you? You, he's not sure. Remus knows you and Regulus have known one another longer than he's known you, and that's never really bothered him. Remus knows all three of you love one another, and he's never felt left out. But know? Know he wishes you'd talk about your own home life.

Regulus doesn't like talking about his experiences at home; the only thing Remus knows is from old stories from Sirius. And Remus will never pry, not wanting to force either of you to do anything you don't want to.

But Merlin, he feels nearly useless right now, wishing to see the tension in your shoulders calm, wishing to see you and Regulus calm again. Wishing Regulus would take the offer to join them at Potter Manor. He wishes for both your safety more than anything.

The walk to the dorm is quite, but not peaceful. Everyone trying to stay calm and wishing someone else would say something. But no one knowing quite what to say to break the silence.

Once you do get up to the dorm, the Gryffindor's dorm, Regulus sets his bag by Remus' nightstand, you following suit, the emblems on your bags a contrast to the surrounding room. Regulus goes to find clothes he's left in Remus' closet before, while you sit on the lycans bed to slip off your shoes. Remus sits next to you, his hand resting on your lower back.

And finally, after far too long, Remus breaks the silence. "Dove..."

You glance up at him as you slip your shoes under the edge of his bed. "Yes?"

Remus sends a quick glance to Regulus, who's slipping on a long black sleeve shirt, one more comfortable than the previous Slytherin uniform. "I understand if you aren't comfortable with it, but..." He pauses for a moment, glancing back to look into your eyes, his thumb rubbing gentle strokes on your spine. "If you want to, you know you're welcome to stay at James' house."

Under his hand, Remus feels you tense, and from his peripheral, Regulus paused to listen.

"That's- that's okay, Remus. But tell James I appreciate the offer, please." You stand up far too fast for your lack of sleep, causing you to fall right back where you were sitting. Alerting both boys.

One of Remus' hands stay glued to your back, the other on your shoulder, as if your keen over. Regulus is quick to stand infront of you.

"Love, you should stay with them." Regulus' voice is full of worry. "It's better than any other option."

"You're not going." Your eyes shoot up to Regulus', far more defensive than you mean to be. Remus' hand, which was previously on your shoulder, moves down to the bed, the other hand continuing to run against your spine again.

"That's doesn't mean you shouldn't go." Regulus matches your defensiveness out of habit.

"You both should come." Remus talks before you can shoot back, hand on the bed finally moving to Regulus' arm, never seeming to catch a break.

There's a heavy pause. One that goes on for an uncomfortable amount of time.

"I'll think about it if you do." Your voice is more timid as you hold your stare at Regulus' eyes, his boring right back into you. Intense, deep, and so, so, loving.

Regulus sighs, "fine."

"Thank you, both. Seriously, you should come. James and Sirius want you guys there. Not to mention James' parents, they love new people." Remus kisses your hair line, standing up, hand leaving your back, before kissing Regulus on the lips. Both your bodies lossen.

Remus moves to change out of his uniform, and you quickly stand up to join him. Regulus' hand comes out to make sure you're steady as you grab a pair of sweats that no one truly knows who belongs to. They were probably once James, but at some point Lily stole them, and at a different point Sirius stole them back, and now so many of your friends have worn them at some point, it's probably weird.

Grabbing those and a jumper belonging to Regulus, you turn back to see Remus already curled around Regulus' back, who lays with enough room for you to join them. Both trying not to show just how eager they are for an afternoon nap.

You climb onto Remus' bed as well, using your wand to close the curtains, magically dimming the lights in the room before placing it on the bedside table. Curling into Regulus' front, leg thrown over his hip, you tuck your head into his neck. Yet your eyes remain open.

You definitely want to sleep, and you know you should, Remus is likely already asleep, knowing the bastard sleeps like the dead. Yet the knowing you could have another wretched nightmare makes you stay awake, staring over Regulus' shoulder the the golden brown hair tucked into his back, belonging to Remus, and letting the black hair belonging to Regulus slightly tickle your cheek.

"Go to sleep dove. Both of you. Please, you can't function without it." Remus' voice seems to startle both you and Regulus, both believing he was asleep, and believing the same about one another.

You pull back from Regulus neck, facing him, seeing the features of his face barely visible in the dark room. "We will, baby." Your voice is soft, as if you were telling a secret.

Remus merely hums and shift slightly before relaxing back into Regulus' back.

"Get some sleep, darling." Regulus kisses your cheek, "it's going to be okay in the end."

"I know. I know. We both need sleep; Remus is gonna kill us." Softly connecting your lips with his, slow and lazy, both smiling at the hum from Remus, confirming the empty threat you made for him.

You return to your being tucked into Regulus' neck. "'M sorry for being snappy with you." You mumble against his skin.

"You have nothing to apologies for, I understand where you're coming from darling." His hand rests on your hip and lower back, relaxing further into you and Remus, closer and closer to having a lovely nap. Of which, you join with the hopes of no nightmares.

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autismprotocol · 3 days

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TMAG Theory Board Update (EP 11-12)

Hi guys sorry about the late posting I've just started a new quarter of college and its been pretty hectic. also got into my school design BFA program so pretty stoked about that! Anyways lets get into the Episode Breakdowns because even though not a lot of lore related things happened I still have a lot to talk about

For the breakdown I'll separate each by episode in sequential order

What Happened in Episode 11: Marked

Celias Rude Awakening- we jump right into the weirdness straight away with Celia waking up on the side of the interstate. she indicates that this is not a weird occurrence and ends the scene by telling someone named Jack that she's "on her way." If you remember episode 8 after Celia and Sam talk to Gerry and Gertrude, she mentions stuff about wanting help with her own mystery. When Sam asks about it she says she's looking into Time travel, other dimentions and teleportation. Many people have theorized that maybe Celia is just a super heavy sleepwalker, but I think the she teleports random places out of nowhere. This could be a side effect of her reality hopping if this Celia is originally from The archives universe.

As for the identity of Jack I'm not quite sure about that yet. I cross referenced the name Jack with past episodes of TMA. The only thing that came up was Jack Barnabas from the statement about dating Agnes Montague (aka an avatar of the desolation and Jesus-like figure for the cult of the lightless flame) So Unless Celia is secretly Agnes of Agnes reincarnated , I can't find any way to link Barnabas to Celia. (if anyone has a theory feel free to send it my way.)

Sam Lore- this one is pretty minor story-wise but I thought it was interesting. Before the statement for the episode is presented we get some classic Sam and Alice Banter ™ most of it is pretty lighthearted but I noticed Sam mention something that could indicate he might be an amputee.

These could not mean anything and I find it weird that it hasn't been mentioned until now but thought it was kind of cool and I will probably be drawing sam with a prothetic leg in the future cause I really like this head-canon. It also begs to question if he is missing a leg. it might have anything to do with his past as a Magnus institute test subject but then again could just be a fun character detail added by Jonny and/or Alex .

The Statement- Getting into the statement we get another Ink5oul appearance. Also possible Ink5oul identifying as she/they. (and lets be honest being a fear avatar is pretty non binary core). I found this Episode gave me a feeling of a hybrid between the Vast, Buried and the Flesh some people are theorizing that is might be a new entity called the Deep but I think that the fear of the ocean could easily apply to the vast or buried. Not much to say about this story though pretty standard Magnus horror that also gave us a hint to what Ink5oul's goal could be/which entity they serve.

Post Bonzo- Gwen has a debrief with Lena after her first Externals Liason assignment and her meeting with Mr. Bonzo. Undoubtedly Gwen is still pretty shaken from her encounter, even arriving late to work due to sleeplessness. Gwen is able to ask Lena a few questions mainly she wanted to know who's name was written on the letter given to Bonzo

Lena is largely unhelpful but tells Gwen she should have worked it out by now and if not to pay close attention to the case load for the next couple of days. before the latest episode my guess was Klaus because that is the only person mentioned so far that the OIAR intends to kill. but more on that later

Marked- Now were getting to my favorite thing about this episode. This episode title can have two meanings. The first is the more literal interpretation. Tattoos are marking of the body and the case this episode was all about tattoos so easily a good name would be marked. But I believe this is a red herring meant to misguide listeners who have not consumed all 200 episodes of TMA because if you know the world of Magnus Archives the term Marked takes on a entirely different meaning.

In TMA the term marked is used to indicate that somebody has been influenced by one or more or the fears and are one their way to becoming an Avatar. I think this could be a coded way to tell the audience someone in the OIAR has been marked. I have two potential candidates

Alice Dyer- Alice has been having dreams about the Institute after her and Sam's adventure into the ruins. also she mentions feeling like someone's watching her (common to people influenced or fed upon by the Ceaseless Watcher/The Eye) My guess if she is marked it would be by the Eye.

Gwendolyn Bouchard: Probably the most likely culprit. The main way an entitly tends to mark people is through encounters with other avatars. Gwen has just had an encounter with Mr Bonzo last episode who I strongly believe must be an avatar of some sort.

What Happened in Episode 12: Getting Off

Aww Sam!!- Sam asked Celia out and it was adorably awkward. not much to say I just loved this interaction and I'm longing for a new Magnus brand office romance hopefully is wont be an agonizing slowburn that ends tragically like a certain pair of morons from Archives (I love you Jon and Martin but Jesus christ)

It's Bonzo time bitches!!- Probably one of the most gruesome Magnus statement I've ever listened to (good work Alex) Mr Bonzo completely annihilated some poor dude at his bachelor party. Based on the date of the Incident the I can confidently say that whoever Baz (the groom) was he was our mystery person the OIAR sent Mr Bonzo to get rid of. Along with some of the bloodiest imagery we learned a few things about Bonzo. The most interesting detail is that Bonzo has to be summoned by playing his theme song I think the CD of his theme song acts somewhat like the tapes did in TMA by materialising out of nowhere. Also fun fact you know that torn seam that is right down Bonzo's middle? that is actually is his mouth lined with rows sharp teeth so I guess I know that now (so fun) Moral of the story dont f*ck with Mr. Bonzo

Alice knows something: Theres been this recurring audio glitch throughout TMAGP thatnks to a few extremly observent fans we have started to relize that these glitches are not at all random and are actually letting the audience know when a character is lying (i actually reposted somones deepdive into all the istances of this glitch so far if you guys are intrested in knowing more) why i bring this up now is becuase since we know when any charater is lying we also know when they are being truthful if there is no glitch when they say somthing and at the end of this episode this interaction occurs

Alice goes ahead and makes a joke about this to annoy Gwen but the fact theres no audio glitch when she says "I know" means she does actually know who is behind the OIAR and is activly refusing to share it with Gwen or the others. What do you know Alice!?

and that's about it im already loving these next batch of episodes and am so excited to learn more (ERROR has to show up somtime )

thanks to everyone who resonded the poll on the last update I will continue to include drawings into the breakdown even if it takes me a little bit of time to post. anyways I wrote this all in one sitting and I'm about ready to pass out so thanks again and the ask box and comments are always open for discussion and theory crafting.

-Echo

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barnesafterglow · 2 days

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night shift

summary: your growing fame becomes too much for bucky

pairing: actor!bucky barnes x singer!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: fame au, dual pov, unreliable narrators, idk how the grammys work (clearly), angst angst angst, steve is a good friend, bucky is Going Thru It, if you think this is joe + taylor coded you're prob right, directly inspired by night shift by lucy dacus

a/n: yearly fic, dedicated to new lovers

masterlist - i no longer have a tag list but you can follow @theafterglowlibrary to get updates! 🤍

You shoved him off of you, heart racing, breaths coming fast. You had said Bucky’s name, had whispered it in your most intimate moment, and now you needed to leave.

You said nothing else, gathering up your clothes and pulling them on as quickly as you could.

“Wha-”

The door slammed behind you, cold winter winds whipping around you as you realized you’d left your jacket on the hook by the door. It was your favorite, but one you were okay sacrificing as long as you didn’t have to face your embarrassment anymore.

Huffing a breath you could see in front of your face, you called an Uber - at least you had remembered your phone - and paced anxiously a block away from his building, hoping and praying he wouldn’t follow you out.

The entire ride home your mind spiraled until you turned off your phone, terrified this would make headlines already and, let’s be honest, no one would be surprised if it did. You hated that was the life you lived. As if your breakup with Bucky hadn’t already been tabloid fodder for weeks now, the public speculating every detail and warping every comment and photo posted. You had taken to keeping off social media altogether in the time since, trying to disguise your outings as much as possible and take back alleys to recordings and friends’ houses.

Your biggest supporter through all of this, surprisingly, had been Steve - Bucky’s best friend. He hadn’t been your friend first, sure, but he had become like a brother to you nonetheless, and he knew the situation better than anyone. You knew he still talked to Bucky just the same and, while that stung a little, you couldn’t fault him for being there for his childhood best friend too.

Which is how you ended up outside his apartment the very next morning, clad in your typical-as-of-late attire of a hoodie and a hat and sunglasses. It was also how you came face to face with Bucky for the first time since that fateful night.

“I didn’t come to sit here and watch you stare at your feet, James.” You stood from his couch, starting to seethe with pent up anger from your gradually failing relationship, all to end up here. What did he want? To absolve his guilt and shake hands and everything would be fine?

No. You had been the victim of his petty remarks and anxious jealousy for so long. You wouldn’t let him think he deserved your time when he didn’t respect the person you had become.

Your anger flashed back to the week before, the last time you had been seen out in public together as he was breaking up with you at your favorite coffee shop, where he had paid for your drink and you gave him a hesitant kiss, even though you knew it was inevitably coming. He had led you to a table in the corner and proceeded to tell you that he was sorry but he couldn’t do this anymore, it was too much for him - you were too much for him. Okay. That’s all you said was “okay” before you pushed out of the chair and walked around the city until the sun went down.

By the time you got home that night, the headlines were already speculating your breakup, though neither of you had yet to shed a single tear.

Bucky blinked as you shuffled on Steve’s doorstep, eyes wide and contemplating the quickest escape. He didn’t blame you.

He had admittedly not handled your breakup the best; in fact, he regretted it almost immediately at the stricken look on your face, clearly not expecting it. He didn’t blame you for that, either, seeing as it had slipped out in a moment of panic.

You had gained a lot of fame over the course of your relationship, even more than him, and he didn’t quite know how to cope with it. And so the words had poured out, unable to be taken back, and here you were, weeks later, still at odds.

He thought every night of how to make it up to you. Public displays weren’t your thing and you had blocked his number the night of your big fight, so that was out of the question, and he didn’t fancy showing up to your house only to have the door slammed in his face either.

But now, now maybe that you were here on the most neutral ground you could stand on, maybe he could keep his foot out of his mouth and apologize. Words stirred in his hindsight, unable to string together a coherent sentence as your face morphed through the stages of grief in record time. Then, just as he was about to speak, Steve placed a hand on his shoulder and gently guided him back into the house. Relief flooded your face as you drifted out of his sight, and he realized this probably wasn’t going to be as easy to take back as he thought.

“Buck,” Steve said as the two of them turned around the corner. “You need to leave.”

Bucky felt his face do something awful, a mixture of confusion and guilt, but he decided to keep his mouth shut. He simply nodded and kept his head down as he shrugged on his jacket and passed by you in the doorway.

He could hear the soft sound of your sobs as the front door clicked shut.

Songwriting could be as easy as breathing and as hard as climbing a mountain. Right now, the words flooded out of you like a tap of water.

And so did the tears, staining your notebook paper and smearing ink, but still in your heart you knew you would never forget these lyrics - these words that so painstakingly came from your soul and laid it bare.

As you finished the last verse, you took a deep breath, sucked up the tears, and called Natasha.

“Steve, I need to talk to her,” Bucky whined over a beer in a rundown bar in Brooklyn.

“No, you don’t.”

“I can fix it, I know I can.”

“I don’t think you can, Buck.” Steve ran a hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lips. “She’s trying to move on. Don’t ruin that for her.”

“But-”

“No.”

Bucky mimicked Steve’s sigh and leaned back in his chair. It had been increasingly hard to justify his decision to end things with you. He didn’t know what he was thinking and he regretted every moment of it since then.

“Do you think she misses me?” Bucky looked so hopeful, but he could see the sorrow in Steve’s eyes.

“I don’t know.”

The Grammys, the fucking Grammys, and you were performing. You were nominated for a couple, and the Academy had asked you to sing - preferably a new song - in honor of that.

Natasha wrapped you in a hug, twirled you around, and announced you were going out to celebrate. You hesitantly said yes, knowing the press would be everywhere and there was always the possibility of seeing Bucky.

But fuck him. This was your moment.

Which is how you ended up at your favorite dive bar in Brooklyn. Your first mistake.

It was your favorite because Bucky had taken you there so many times. But you couldn’t think of another place you would celebrate than the place where so much inspiration and so many lyrics had come from.

You didn’t scan the room as you walked in with your hand clutching Nat’s, the rest of your small circle of friends following close behind. Your second mistake.

Walking straight to the bar, you didn’t notice Bucky in the far corner, watching your every move. It wasn’t until you were a few drinks in, feeling the celebration kick in, that you spotted him.

At first, you intended to ignore him. This was your time, your night, your moment. He didn’t get the spoil that.

That is, until you went to the bathroom and he trailed you into the dimly lit hallway.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice a harsh rasp of beer and no sleep. “I’ve missed you.”

Your heart stopped beating in your chest.

You weren’t prepared to see him tonight, not that you ever were these days. But tonight of all nights, the one that should have been carefree and fun and a glittery memory for years to come, was smeared with anger and heartbreak as you spun to face him.

“What the fuck,” you snapped as his fingers grazed your bare arm. Immediately you felt bad, seeing the hurt on his face, and your expression softened. “Sorry.”

“I-it’s okay.” The catch in his voice broke your heart, your own watery eyes matching his. For just a moment.

It took you too long to come to your senses - this was the man who had shattered your heart without a second thought - but he was already so close to you. His body only inches from your own, his hot breath fanning your face, and goddamnit you missed him. You missed him so much that your heart broke all over again.

Your mind cycled through a thousand different thoughts all at once: get away, come closer, touch me, keep your hands off. You couldn’t decide what you wanted in the moment.

You were so, so angry, and yet you couldn’t stop yourself from reaching out to him. His hands settled on your waist as the lights overhead flickered. Your hand pressed gently to his cheek, completely of its own volition. Suddenly, you were tracing the planes of the face you had once known so well. He looked older now, like your time apart had aged him, yet his was still as handsome as the day you had first laid eyes on him.

His eyes locked with yours, and neither of you said a word - not him to ask, not you to stop him - as he leaned in to kiss you.

It should have felt like a victory - it did feel like a victory - but there was something else there. Something dark and twisted and Bucky couldn’t figure out if it was coming from you or him.

The kiss could have lasted moments or a lifetime, he didn’t really know. All he knew was one second you were holding him close to you and the next you were shoving him off.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” your voice came out in a whisper, like you didn’t want to draw attention from the steadily growing crowd of the bar. He supposed you didn’t.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me.” You nodded at his words, your fingers pressed to your lips like you could still feel him there. “I’ll just go.”

You nodded again, your eyes vacant, and he made his way back to the main room of the bar. He looked back in time to see you slump against the wall, and he knew that you were thinking of a way to erase any trace of him on you.

The stage lights came on, you strummed your guitar and started to sing.

The first time I tasted somebody else’s spit, I had a coughing fit.

You let the lyrics you poured your heart into spill out across the stage. Still, somehow - in the crowd of hundreds of faces - you spotted Bucky.

This time, it didn’t make your heart clench. Didn’t make you shed a tear or run away.

No. This time, it empowered you. Let him hear the lyrics he inspired. Let him feel that pain of your words and feel the hole in your heart where he had broken it. Where you were now healing.

Bucky watched as you sang, and you were mesmerizing. He could feel the echoes of hurt in your words, the hole in your heart he had put there. He knew, despite the last time he saw you, that there was no making up. There was no fixing what was well beyond broken. No chance for him.

In five years I hope the songs feel like covers,

Dedicated to new lovers.

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emersonfreepress · 7 hours

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help i'm alive

So! Long time, no see. 2023 was a whole goddamn lot lol

I don't have a demo update to share yet, but that's because I had to scrap nearly everything I managed to write during a very, very, very bad stint of writer's block last year. I hadn't even realized it had been a block like that until I went over my work so far last month and realized it was bad -- like, trust me; a slog to read that didn't even sound like me. It's been extremely frustrating but I've finally broken free of that and it's been easy and actually fun to write again for the first time in actual years. I just hate giving updates that have no actual news in them. And I really had nothing to share other than: I deleted thousands of words and feel so much better now 😅

Anyway, little about my demo plans have changed: I'm still putting out the Chapter 3 demos in Choicescript/on Dashingdon and then will be going dark to move things over to Twine. Where I am in the process right now is... feeling like 35% done with the overhauled version of this chapter and 50% done for the next demo update.

As far as asks, I'm... not really sure what to do?? I believe I've read them all (I love you guys), but so much time has passed since getting most of them that I'm not sure if it's, like... still pertinent??? To go back and answer them?? I suppose some of them like character asks could be, but all the nice messages of support -- that feels weird since I've practically ghosted this blog since August! Idk. Y'all tell me what to do with 'em and I'll do it. Maybe I should make a poll.

Uh... that's really all there is to say regarding the game! I've added some personal stuff after the cut, but if you're done here: Thanks for reading and sticking around. It means the world, for real.

So what has occupied my time all this time? Doctor, therapy, money, and friends. And improv! But especially the first two. There was a lot of non-writing related stuff fucking up my ability to focus and write, so hopefully with my mind and body both feeling a lot better, I can get back to being present and active with the game. I didn't realize how physically unwell I was until last year and it's been like... life-long issues I've been treating. It turns out it's not normal to feel exhausted enough to sleep at any given time, at all times, for your whole life! wow!!

I also uninstalled Tumblr from my phone back in February, so you could say I'm sort of generally focused on offline life. (And what an interesting coincidence that my writer's block dissipated shortly after that...) I also just moved!! The last two weekends have been so expensive and stressful -_- But I can't even compare the old place to the new. We're basically paying the same price for idek how much more space. The cats are so happy; which means the house humans get to be happy.

My schedule is finally freed up from constant medical shit (there was a 3-month stretch this winter with multiple doctor appointments literally every fucking week 🙃🙃🙃). My mental health is doing a lot better -- literally incomparably better compared to where I was this time last year. There's live comedy now (which I dabble in, to be clear lol), but I've finally found myself able to like... balance it all. The physical and creative energy that goes into it all, anyway. The lovely thing about improv is that you kinda just show up and do your thing -- it doesn't cut into my writing time so much as it costs energy. Unless I end up in this comedy debate show thing next month, which I am very excited to give up writing time for

So like... Life is life-ing and I'm just vibing. Or something? I'll be around.

Thank you all again so much for your interest, support, patience, and readership <3

#oh and if anyone knows where i can stream mob wives uncensored without paying any extra money i'd love you forever lol #that is unimportant- unless y'all find it important that i have access to all of my most influential pieces of media at all times IJSAYING!#jk jk ofc <3 thank you for reading #conspiracy in emerson #if cie #progress #cie ch 3

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myouicieloz · 22 hours

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Bittersweet memories

Yoo Jeongyeon x member!reader

Synopsis: Jeongyeon sees you’re feeling down and suggests going to the park, while the other girls are not home.

Warnings: just a lil angsty.

Word count: 1.4k

Notes: a silly prompt I thought abt rn lol this will be the last one of the series that i post here on tumblr, i think. i’ll keep updating in ao3 (for this specific series only)

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3 | Pt.4 | Pt.5

“Hey, baby maknae,” Jeongyeon calls, smiling. She looks so cute, with her eyes nearly closing as she tops you with her frame. The sensation of her shadows on you is enough to make you open your eyes, sitting on the couch. “Are you okay? Your breathing is kinda erratic.”

It was a slow day at the dorms. Nearly all the girls were busy with either a group or a solo schedule, which left you, Dahyun, and Jeongyeon all alone in the massive apartment. To anyone, it’d be a perfect time to relax, run errands, or work on some hobbies. You were trying to relax, though, but such a thing was still forbidden to your mind — the thoughts started to run at an overwhelming pace as soon as you lay down on the couch, in hopes of destressing.

Thankfully, the women whom you shared your life with were more than attentive to all of your mannerisms. You didn’t even have to say anything, and they’d be by your side, caring, nurturing. Each of them helps in a unique way.

You loved your girls so much it hurt.

“Yes, unnie. Just fine.” The lie flows easily from your mouth, in an automatic response. It’s only when Jeongyeon lifts her brow that you come to realize you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have anything to hide — they’ve already seen all of your ugliest parts. Sighing, you add. “Sorry, it’s just, uhm, sorry. I was trying to relax, but I can’t… I still can’t focus on the thoughts too much. I get scared easily.”

Jeongyeong nods, pleased by your efforts to share your feelings with her. You’ve been going to therapy for a couple of months, and it’s been helping you to understand and deal with your feelings better. As a result, you’ve been expressing yourself better, and the girls were able to search for ways of making your routine easier each day. The engines of the big, complex clock that defined your being were slowly getting back into its place. It’s a slow, tiring process, but there’s been progress.

She sits by your side, giving you a reassuring squeeze. You took advantage of her proximity to hold her tight, hugging her even closer. Jeongyeon’s arms have always felt the safest to you. Her embrace sends warmth waves of love straight into your heart, and you smile against the woman’s skin.

“Thank you for telling me, beautiful.” You blossom under her praise, hiding your face in the crook of her neck. Her hands go inside your hoodie to trace slow, delicate circles on your bare skin, exactly how she knows it’ll calm you down. “Perhaps some fresh air will help you feel a bit better? We can go for a walk. The members will take long to come home. How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect, unnie.” Although there’s hardly anything she suggested you wouldn’t do, simply because it’s her. “Let’s take a walk.”

Jeongyeon’s hands are cozy, and they fit perfectly against yours. You hold her delicately through all the way.

—

The park is the girl’s assigned spot. It’s the place you’ve cried, laughed, and celebrated together ever since your trainee days. Whether it was to go on picnics, hikes, or simply feed the ducks on the lake, you’ve grown used to having such a place as your escape route.

You’re surprised that Jeongyeon led you to the basketball court, instead of the lake. However, what surprises you the most is the ball in her hands, which she shakes side to side in awkward motions.

“What are you doing?” You frown, watching her clumsy moves.

During your trainee days, you, Jeongyeon, and Momo would sneak out of the practice rooms once it all got too much. Your managers would always find the trio here, instead, laughing their hearts out in their own little world. Neither of you knew how to actually play, but being able to move around — wasting some well-needed nerves without the need to be perfect, and just have fun in general was enough. If you concentrated hard enough, you could still hear Momo’s loud laugh, combined with your loud cheers whenever Jeongyeon managed to score a shot.

Reminiscing such memories causes a growing ache in your heart. At the time, it seemed like things were so heavy: the crushing routine of practice, the stress of not knowing whether you’d make it through the next monthly evaluation, the immaturity of being so young… You thought it was the end of the world, back then. Now, looking through the hidden memories behind those feelings is enough for you to realize it wasn’t so bad, after all. Being able to window-shop at the mall without being recognized; the thrill of finally being able to buy that Nintendo you had been saving up for forever; whispering gossip with the girls after the lights were out when you had to be up early for dance lessons, on the next day.

It’s a bittersweet feeling. Something that seemed like a life ago, coming from a version of yourself trapped in another dimension. You felt like that wasn’t yourself anymore. It was impossible to recreate such memories, and even when you managed to do so, it just felt wrong, and weird.

You desperately wanted to go back to being that girl again. And it fucking sucked.

“I thought a little one-on-one could ease up your nerves. You used to love playing before.” Jeongyeon cares about you so much, thinking about the little details of the maknae she loved dearly. Holding on to something that did not exist anymore.

Just like you were. All of them.

Your mouth tastes bitter. Suddenly, you’re no longer interested in being outside — there’s a sudden urge to just go back to your room, curl up and cry.

You used to like going to the park and playing, before.

“So everyone keeps telling me.” You murmur, kicking a rock as your fists close inside your hoodie’s pockets. “About things I liked to do before the— episode.”

Sensing you’re not interested in playing — or maybe she just took a brief look on your face. With a red nose, watery eyes, and a big pout, it wasn’t difficult to tell you were about to burst into tears. Jeongyeon throws the ball away, opening her arms to you.

It’s instant: you run to her, crying as you mutter apologies and empty promises. You wish you still liked to do all of those things. That you weren’t so utterly, completely broken. You want to go back to when you were just a little troubled but fine.

Was it never going to stop hurting? Is this ache going to last forever?

“It’s okay, baby.” Jeongyeon’s calm voice soothes you, as she runs her hands through your hair. Your sobs are loud, probably drawing attention to the little kids playing on the nearby courts, but she doesn’t seem to mind. “It’s okay. Much has changed, and that’s normal. It’s just life, baby. It’s simply life.” Gently grabbing your shoulders, the older woman brushes the tears away from your eyes. Staring at you with a serious face, she adds, “I love you, Y/n. We’re in this together, all of us. That’s what hasn’t changed: our love. Okay?”

You nod, somehow crying even more now that you are surrounded by such a strong love.

“We will make new memories, and find new hobbies. We’ll do whatever it takes. It might not be as fun or shiny as the old ones, but oh, Y/n… they’re going to be even more cherished and precious, I promise.” She promises, resting her forehead against yours. And you truly believe her words.

You love her more than words can say.

“I love you, unnie. Thank you.” You laugh through the tears, glad to have someone like Jeongyeon in your life.

Turning around, you make your way back, in the lake’s direction.

“And I love you more, baby. We’ll find a new hobby, don’t worry.” Her face turns thoughtful, her glasses complimenting her frame well. “Have you tried cooking? We really need another one in the dorms, things are getting unsustainable. I had to eat Nayeon’s food yesterday! Or, well, at least pretend, since it was disgusting. Not even poor Dobby ate it.”

You let out a loud laugh, this time, giving the older girl a playful hit.

Jeongyeon was right: things were not as they once were. The past was in the past, and it might be a good thing. From now on, you’d focus on making new memories, surrounded by the love and support from your family, your friends, and most importantly, from your girls.

#s.writes #twice angst #twice x you #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice jeongyeon #yoo jeongyeon #jeongyeon x reader #jeongyeon angst #kpop x reader #kpop smut #kpop x y/n #sol writes

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hollowed-theory-hall · 3 days

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I had always wondered why Binns wasn't replaced or the material updated for the History of Magic classes.

However I recently realised that History is a crucial part of understanding the world's past and paving the way for future. Not to mention History is tied with Civics/ Politics and plays a role in gaining your footing in the world and navigating creature relations.

To take such a crucial element away from the students and tell them to flounder on their own (especially muggle borns and raised who don't have the resources that pureblood and even half blood children do)

Coupled with the fact that whenever Harry learns a piece of history it's always from a biased source and by word of mouth (I mean text books can also be biased but still)

What I want to say is that generations of kids were seriously screwed over by the decision to not hire another effective History teacher.

Yes!! Yes!! All of this!!!

History is such an important thing to teach (I actually think real schools, at least where I live don't do a great job at it). As you mentioned, History is crucial to understanding politics, language, economy, and so much more. In the Harry Potter world, each spell comes with its own history of how it came into being and why, which affects how the spell is cast and what its effects are.

Now, Binns was the Hogwarts history Professor for a good century at least (he taught history in 1890 in Hogwarts Legacy as a ghost already), so it's not just Dumbledore who willfully keeps generations of Hogwarts students ignorant. And I think, if we opened their school books, we'd find a very biased account of Wizarding History and the goblin rebellions.

Now, I have a bit of a conspiracy theory about this and why history and magical theory aren't properly thought. Because their school books don't really cover why spells work or why potions need one ingredient over another, which in a world of magic feels like the bare minimum. I think the education problems, both with magical theory and with history are for the same reason — control.

As you mentioned, history is crucial to finding your footing in a culture, to understanding the world around you. Someone who is ignorant of history is easier to manipulate. They would be more prone to believing biased accounts and propaganda. And it's chilling how easy it was for the ministry to paint Harry as a deranged liar in book 5 by printing it in the Prophet. Even students who spoke with Harry and knew him personally believed it.

In book 7, a good portion of their world just kept living their lives, like there wasn't a war, like the minister wasn't under the Imperius. Some of the pure-bloods and half-bloods that have nothing to fear and aren't involved with the Death Eaters or the Order, they're just, there, living like nothing's wrong. They go to school, they go to work. Because if the newspaper (that's controlled by the ministry) says everything's fine, it must be true? Right? *sarcasm*

These are all signs of a very media-illiterate community that doesn't know how to be skeptical of what they read. And learning history, learning to ask questions about history, play a big part in teaching people how to be skeptical. I mean, learning about the history of propaganda and fascist regimes helps you know what to look for and how to hopefully not fall for the same tricks.

But the Wizarding World isn't interested in that. They're interested in a calm and controllable population.

Magical theory is the same in some ways. I wrote about how magic is all about intention here and here a bit. If you are focused and have enough magic and the force of will to back it up you can do anything. You don't actually need a wand or spells to cast magic, just a strong enough wish. This is how accidental magic works. Bright wizards like Tom and even Harry can learn to control their accidental magic, proving magic doesn't need wand waving and incantations. Yes, they make casting easier but they're not necessary.

But do you know what wands are necessary for? Following and identifying wizards. Wands are used to identify wizards and forbidding the use of them by creatures adds to the treatment of creatures as second-rate citizens.

And incantations? Well, if anyone could just cast whatever without a spell, magic would be incredibly hard (I might even say impossible) to regulate. You can't define which spells are unforgivable if spells don't exist. You can't make a list of illegal dark incantations if there are no incantations.

TL;DR

The Wizarding World of Harry Potter is kind of a dystopia.

#harry potter #hp #hp meta #hollowedheadcanon #hp headcanon #ministry of magic #wizarding world #harry potter meta #hollowedtheory

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theamberfist · 2 days

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How I Met Her Mother | Part 2 | Tighnari x Reader

Romantic: Tighnari x Collei's Parent! Reader

Description: When Collei and the traveler discover Tighnari's feelings for her adoptive parent, they make it their mission to get them on a date together through a (maybe unnecessarily) elaborate plan.

(Notes: none) (gender neutral reader) (reader is Collei's adoptive parent) (Part 2 of How I Met Her Mother)

Read Part 1 here!

I didn’t plan to do multiple parts originally but @4o3ok3id you ask and you shall receive! <3

Since you'd moved back to Gandharva Ville, you'd been extremely stressed. Between your work as a doctor, helping your daughter with her own health issues, and trying your best not to inconvenience any of the forest rangers, things could be a lot. However, more recently, you'd started to notice a few of those worries easing, as if someone had been lightening the load on your shoulders.

And, of course, that someone happened to be Tighnari; your close friend from back during your Akadamiya days. You didn't think he was aware of the fact that you'd noticed, but you had. He was always offering to take in some of your extra patients since he had some medical expertise himself, even after you'd essentially become Gandharva Ville's personal doctor. He kept you as updated as possible on Collei's condition so you wouldn't be left worrying in the dark, he let her rest in his own hut on her off-but-not-life-threatening days so you wouldn't have to see it, and the amount of times he'd brought over dinner for the two of you due to having 'made too much for himself' so you wouldn't have to worry about cooking was becoming too much to count.

You were extremely touched by it and always tried your best to repay him for his kind acts, though he rarely ever accepted anything, claiming he 'was just doing his job as head forest ranger.'

You weren't the only one that had started to notice his abnormal kindness towards you and your daughter, though.

"He brought you guys dinner again?!" Paimon exclaimed a little too loudly as she, Collei, and Aether crouched behind some bushes by your house. "That's, like, the third time since we've been visiting!"

"I know," Collei replied, "Master Tighnari is very kind, and I think he can tell how stressed they are. I just wish I could do something to help them too; I hope I don't make them worry too much..." Aether could see the green haired girl starting to look sad and immediately tried to come up with a way to cheer her up. Luckily, though, Paimon seemed to have that covered.

"Collei!" She exclaimed, flying a little closer to the girl while still staying far back enough that she wouldn't accidentally touch her and make her uncomfortable, "Do you realize what this means?!" She got loud again and, momentarily, the rustling in your kitchen nearby stopped. All three of them froze but after a second it continued as you went back to preparing the dinner the forest ranger had brought; seemingly deciding not to investigate the loud noises outside.

Aether shushed the little flying girl as Collei frowned slightly. "...No?" Paimon looked exasperated.

"Do you?!" She asked, turning to the blonde traveler, who shrugged. "Ugh!' Paimon exclaimed, "Isn't it obvious? Tighnari has feelings for Collei's parent! You two are both clueless."

"He...Does?" Collei asked, looking a little confused but the longer she though about it, the more she had to admit that it did add up. Even before you'd adopted her when she was little, there had seemed to be something going on between you two that was different from your friendship with Cyno or anyone else.

"Of course he does!" Paimon replied, "You should have seen the look on his face when he told us how they'd met, Collei! Paimon can't believe she didn't realize it at the time but it all makes sense now!" Beside her, Aether couldn't help but nod in agreement; she had a point.

"...I guess that would explain why he always does so much to help," Collei admitted finally, "And why he seems so much less strict around us than the rest of Gandharva Ville. I always thought it was just because they'd graduated together, but Cyno was in their class too and Master Tighnari is even stricter towards him than anyone here!"

"Exactly!" Paimon exclaimed. This revelation put a smile on Collei's face. After all, you and Tighnari had to be two of her favorite people in the whole world. You'd taken her in when she had nothing; a scared child that was recovering from having the remains of a god essentially exorcised from her body. You were young yourself at the time, and yet you'd agreed to raise her as your own without a second thought.

And then there was Tighnari; the man that had taken her on as a student the second she'd shown an interest in plants and basic level of competence. He'd helped make her who she was today; taught her to fight, empowered her when she felt like she couldn't ever be strong again. He'd even helped stave off the symptoms of her Eleazar alongside you.

The idea of the two of you potentially entering a relationship- or better yet, getting married- made her grin widely. She already saw Tighnari like a second parent with all that he'd taught her, even if she would never be brave enough to tell him that to his face. Having you both as her official parents would be a dream come true, and if it would make you happy, she'd support it without a doubt.

"I hope Master Tighnari tells them about his feelings soon!" She exclaimed excitedly now, "I'm sure they feel the same!"

"Knowing that guy, I wouldn't count on it." Paimon replied with a sigh. But then she seemed to get an idea because she suddenly turned and eyed Aether in a way only a scheming Paimon could. He gave her a 'what are you thinking?' kind of look but she just turned back to Collei. "What if we help them out?" She suggested, making him raise an eyebrow, "There's no way someone like Tighnari would confess to your parent; and especially not if he feels like they're already stressed. But if we nudge them along, maybe we could help them finally admit their feelings!"

There was a pause as Collei seemed to process this. On the one hand, as your daughter, she wanted you to be happy and not have to worry about her so much despite her illness. On the other, she knew it might be wrong to get involved in the situation when it really wasn't her place. After all, it was possible her mentor had his reasons for not admitting his feelings to you yet.

...Unfortunately for Tighnari, though, the first reason won out in her mind and she finally nodded at Paimon. "Alright," she said with a wide, excited grin. "Let's do it. Do you have a plan?"

"You bet Paimon does!" The little pixie exclaimed, motioning for her and the traveler to follow.

Aether couldn't help but feel he'd regret being involved with this later.

..........

"And that's why all of you should take on a little extra work today!" Paimon explained, concluding her longer-than-necessary presentation. The huge group of forest rangers, whom she'd dragged out of their rooms in the dead of night to convince, all looked at her with dead expressions. Beside her, Collei seemed to get a little nervous at the silence.

"Please." She added kindly. The rangers blinked and another silence followed before one raised his hand.

"If we agree will you let us go back to sleep?"

"Yes!" Paimon chirped, making the whole group cheer, "...Quietly!" They immediately silenced their joy before retreating to their rooms to get a few more hours of sleep before the sun would rise. Luckily, Tighnari hadn't been scheduled for any night patrol this evening so if they kept silent enough, he wouldn't realize the entirety of Gandharva Ville had been brought out for a meeting without him.

"I think that went well," Collei smiled as she turned to the pixie and the traveler. Paimon nodded.

"You think they'll follow through with it?" Aether asked. He didn't seem doubtful, though; just curious.

"I do!" Collei replied, "And don't worry, I'll take on some extra work too. Between all of us forest rangers, we should be able to give Tighnari a lot less worry about!"

"Which lets us continue with the next phase of our plan..." Paimon grinned evilly despite the actual act she was doing, which was very selfless.

"Before then, though, we should get some rest." Collei told them, "I'll meet you in the morning for breakfast, where we can continue with the next part of our plan!" They both nodded at that before the group split up and went their separate ways.

What they didn't seem to realize, though, was that their conversation had been overheard by someone whose lips tugged into a grin.

..........

The next morning, Paimon, Collei, and the traveler met bright and early for breakfast. There, they went over their plan while also not-so-casually observing Tighnari from afar as he went about his morning. The other rangers hadn't taken on much of their extra work yet, considering the day had just barely gotten started, but it seemed like the lead ranger was already becoming surprised by just how little he actually needed to get done.

He'd already checked back with one of his patients to find Collei had taken care of them before he could and that one of the nearby withering zones he'd planned on clearing today was already gone.

Things were going perfectly so far, and as soon as the group finished their breakfast, they bid one another goodbye before going their separate ways. Collei needed to do her actual job as a forest ranger trainee, and so it was the traveler and Paimon's turn to put some of this plan in motion.

They headed out to the nearest withering zone, which happened to be not far from your medical tent, and made sure they would be nearby if anyone got injured.

When a few rangers inevitably did and started heading for your tent, Aether immediately got in their way.

"You can't see Y/n!" Paimon exclaimed dramatically, "They're- uh, completely full! Yep! No more patients for them today; you'd better let him teleport you to see a doctor in Liyue Harbor instead." She pointed to Aether, who quickly nodded in agreement. The rangers exchanged glances among themselves but after a moment, seemed to decide the two were trustworthy because they nodded and allowed the traveler to make use of his teleport waypoints in order to take them for medical attention.

"And here I thought Y/n could never turn away patients," one of the rangers commented, "They must be beyond swamped right now! I hope they're alright."

"We should let Master Tighnari know not to send anyone else their way when we get the chance." Another agreed.

"No!" Paimon exclaimed, surprising them both. She immediately stiffened and pulled herself together, "Paimon means...We'll tell Tighnari for you! So don't worry about it!" Again, after a moment of deliberation, the rangers nodded before disappearing with Aether. The little pixie sighed in relief. If they told Tighnari not to send anyone for your medical attention, he would either suspect something was up and go talk to you about it or get worried about you and also go talk to you about it. They couldn't have that; not until they were ready for you two to meet up later.

"Paimon just hopes Y/n won't be upset we sent their patients to Baizhu," the girl said to herself, knowing the Liyue doctor was something of a rival to you. There was no animosity there; just a bit of friendly banter, but it was enough for you not to want Gandharva Ville's people going to him over you.

When Aether returned from teleporting the injured rangers to the harbor, he held up a thumbs up for the pixie, who nodded in relief that it had worked. They'd likely have to do this many more times today, of course; forest rangers tended to get hurt very often. But at least this meant there were two more they wouldn't need to worry about, which was better than nothing.

After all, if they wanted you two to have time for one another later, they needed to make sure both you and Tighnari had free work schedules for the day.

..........

"Master Tighnari!" Collei called, knowing the fox-eared forest ranger wouldn't be busy at the moment, thanks to her and the others' plan. She found said ranger near his hut, where he appeared to be cooking yet another meal that would make way too many servings for someone living alone to eat. When the green haired girl arrived, he immediately looked up at her.

"Collei, is there something you need?" He asked, clearly feeling a little awkward about being caught doing something so unproductive by his own trainee. What he didn't know was that she'd planned it that way.

"We're out of bandages and Padisarah's." Collei informed her mentor, "And we have a patient with a wound that could really use both over at the medical tent." It wasn't totally true; she had no idea if a patient at your tent required those things. But since both the bandages and the herb were resources they went through the quickest, it was a lie Tighnari would believe and take seriously, which he did.

"I see," he replied, glancing at the food he was still cooking, "Let Y/n know I'll head out to pick some more up today, and not to worry." He knew you too well, and had this been a real situation, Collei knew you would have called him a life-saver like you always did. She smiled, nodding with relief.

"Okay!" She told him and then went to head for the medical tent, only to pause on the way, "Would you like me to come with you to help? I know we usually buy our supplies in bulk so it could be difficult getting everything back here without a sumpter beast." Tighnari paused for a moment, remembering that the last of the sumpter beasts had been taken out that morning for other tasks (something Collei and the others had had nothing to do with but appreciated anyway).

"Yes, I suppose that would be a big help..." He decided finally, "Thank you, Collei. We'll head out in a few minutes, but please go let Y/n know first." She nodded before running off.

Tighnari had specifically given himself extra time not only because you needed to be informed if your daughter left Gandharva Ville but also so he could finish the food he'd been preparing to give you and her for lunch. Once it was finished, he took it from the cooking pot and wrapped it so it would stay fresh until he could give it to you, which would likely be later in the evening than he'd planned.

Collei returned a few minutes later, having actually let you know she'd be leaving but not the real reason why. Then the two of them were on their way after Tighnari checked one more time that he had no other pressing work to get done. Of course, he didn't.

Their walk to Sumeru City was quick and uneventful, and soon enough, they were in the market shopping for bandages, Padisarah's, and another item Tighnari wasn't yet aware of.

"Master Tighnari, look!" Collei exclaimed, pointing to a formal suit that was on display at one of the clothing shops. She'd seemed so excited about it that he had to come over but was surprised now to see what exactly she'd been pointing at.

"A...Suit?"

"Isn't it beautiful?" She asked, aware of how strange she sounded, considering she'd never showed any interest in men's formal wear before. "It reminds me of this story my parent told me once." At this, the forest ranger's fox ears perked a bit.

"Oh?" He asked, silently urging her to continue.

"After their graduation from the Akademiya, they got invited to attend a party in Fontaine," Collei explained, "When they attended, their date wore a purple suit, but it clashed with the outfit they'd picked and made them look awful together." The story she was telling was real, though you hadn't been nearly as dramatic when you'd told it as she currently was. "They broke up after that, but they always say he should have worn green like this suit because it goes with all their clothes."

With that, she turned and walked off as if she'd finally found the Padisarah's they'd been looking for. Planting the seed of an idea in Tighnari's head would hopefully be enough and she needed to be out of the way so he didn't feel any judgement when acting on it.

She made sure to inspect the herbs for much longer than necessary before glancing back at her mentor, who happened to have an extra shopping bag in his arms now that hadn't been there before. The suit that had been on display was also gone now, making the green haired girl's smile widen. She bought the herbs they needed and then turned back to the head forest ranger, who looked at her expectantly.

"Ready to head back to Gandharva Ville?" He asked, "Y/n would never be upset with us for taking too long but I wouldn't put it past them to badmouth me to their patients in order to make them feel better."

"They always say having a common enemy is a big part of bedside manner," Collei giggled, "They need someone to blame for the patient's prolonged pain." Tighnari chuckled at that, shaking his head as he lead the way back towards the village.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fanfic #genshin tighnari #tighnari #tighnari x reader #collei #parent reader #fanfic #tighnari x you #genshin collei #gender neutral #gender neutral insert #genshin reader insert #reader insert

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knightyoomyoui · 23 hours

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TWICE: ANTHOLOGY OF HORROR ONE-SHOTS | "Marriage Of Despair" ft. JEONGYEON

This one may not be that scary at all because of its sorrowful background, but it still has the classic elements that's been common to be seen in supernatural horror creations.

NOTE: Based on a true story.

"Marriage Of Despair" ft. Yoo Jeongyeon

Last year, Yoo Jeongyeon had one of the best and happiest moments of her life when she got married to her 3 years boyfriend, a fellow Korean celebrity like her named Min Janghoon in her hometown of Suwon, a province in South Korea.

Everything was already well-planned and ready to be prepared. The invited guests, including the family and relatives of two parties, Jeongyeon’s co-members, and some other friends and acquaintances couldn’t wait to see the two lovers exchange their wedding vows at the altar.

But then, just as when Jeongyeon and Janghoon were about to experience this special moment of their relationship to evolve, it also shared an occurrence to one of the worst and bone-chilling moments they have ever encountered.

Jeongyeon remembered that it all started when her husband Janghoon arrived earlier in the morning, respecting the allotted time that was given to them by the church to help prepare and also allow himself to get one too for the ceremony.

While he was waiting, her husband shared that there’s something uneasiness that swirls up inside of him which he couldn’t tell why is this happening. At first he thought its probably due to the nervousness that he also feels regarding the fact that he was about to marry his dream woman in front of such a live anticipating crowd, but then he realised it was serving as a foreshadowing for something eerie.

It has been minutes and Janghoon still has no update wheresoever of Jeongyeon is right now, but according to Jeongyeon he knows that she had she stayed in a hotel near to their church after her fellow members of the group and some of her make-up designers from her staffs decided to prepare her look there.

Janghoon’s concern at that time was that it had made him confused that why should Jeongyeon had to reach this long period of time to dress up when she’s just almost a meter away from the church.

And when he tried to call their wedding coordinator which is Jeongyeon’s sister Seungyeon, he could hear some loud crying and other voices that sounded like they’re comforting that person getting emotional.

Seungyeon confirmed to her that Jeongyeon was bawling her eyes at the moment when she learned that the staffs couldn’t find her wedding dress on her wardrobe.

“What? How did it went missing? It should’ve been already set up at her dressing room, right?”

“That’s we don’t know, Janghoon. The only thing they told to us is that it was the reason why they couldn’t be able to deliver it immediately at the room before she arrives because it just suddenly… disappeared.”

While Janghoon was talking to her sister-in-law, a friend of his named Seungkwan, a fellow K-Pop idol of Jeongyeon one of the popular person also included in their guests list came rushing towards him.

“Janghoon!”

“Oh hey, Seung”

“Can I excuse you for a sec, I know you’re in a call but… this is an emergency.”

“Why what happened?”

Seungkwan winced and sighed like he’s getting disturbed by something, rotating his head back and forth. “Uhm, it’s your suit. We couldn’t find it anywhere. Swear, it was already in your room but now it’s gone.”

“Huh?”

“But we’re currently looking for it right now, jeez man your wedding is about to start in 20 minutes!” Seungkwan’s panic arises through his tone when he looked at his wristwatch. Seungyeon heard what they are conversing about from behind the call and was completely puzzled too that a same scenario is currently happening to the married couple.

“Sorry Seungyeon, we better go.”

“Yeah sure, go find it. We’ll take it from here too.”

Janghoon ended the call and ran with Seungkwan back from his dressing room. Simulteanously without their knowing, Jeongyeon and Janghoon were both staring at their respective clothing stand, all empty.

Looking problematic, Janghoon started to assume that there’s definitely something not right about this.

Driven by anger, Janghoon quickly reported this to the hotel managers by contacting them while he is making his way out of the church. On the other hand, all of Jeongyeon’s assistants went distraught thinking of a miraculous way to order a new wedding dress with limited time remaining before the ceremony started.

Knowing that this is near impossible-or should I say indeed, they rather tried to reach out to the authorities from the police to report a possible theft in their belongings. Seungyeon and some of her closest friends from TWICE which is Jeongyeon’s group, named Sana and Jihyo went to talk with the management to ask for a possibility to move their schedule in case this doesn’t get resolved.

10 minutes remaining, still no progress except from the fast responses of everyone they have seek help from, both Jeongyeon and Janghoon prayed in their own spots, begging for the Lord not to ruin this for them and searching for a reason why this has to happen for their moment together.

This is when things get weird. Jeongyeon and Janghoon both halted from their prayers at the same time when each of them caught a part of their gown and suit moving from the distance.

Curious and alarmed that they have finally found their outfits, they tried to follow where it might go.Janghoon was the first one to walk through the church’s corridor before he got followed by Jeongyeon who was also trailing behind her floating dress.

Their chasd ended when Jeongyeon reached the end of the hall, leading herself and also you in which she has located you standing at the back of what it seems to be an abandoned chapel located at the back of the church.

Jeongyeon called Janghoon’s name and they both hugged to soothe their worries at their current situation right now.

“What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same thing.”

Jeongyeon’s body around Janghoon’s arms got stiff when her eyes noticed something unusual.Her wedding dress is now floating through the middle of the chapel, as if it was making its way down to the aisle. Janghoon’s missing suit was at the altar, remained unmoved and was facing the direction of the gown coming close to it.

A silhoutte figure then began to form, covering the insides of their respective outfits like they are wearing them. It looked like it belong to a man and a woman they cannot identify because of its face being hidden as the front facing away from them. Only their backs are the ones who are remained to be seen.

“W-what is that…” Jeongyeon whispered as she gripped through the arm of Janghoon and shivered. Janghoon gulped and looked at Jeongyeon who looks scared on his side.

“I don’t know too, but whoever that might be, they have something that doesn’t belong to them. And we just have the rights to take back what’s ours.” Janghoon said before kissing Jeongyeon’s forehead and giving him a trusted nod.

They both slowly made their way through the two unknown figure standing in front of the altar. Just as when they were about to grab their shoulders, the figures disappeared right in front of their sight and the atmosphere around them got oddly cold. Jeongyeon shrieked in shock before her and Janghoon kneeled to slowly pick up their outfits that went falling to the floor.

Relieved that they have now got their dress and suit back, they got surprised by the appearance of Seungyeon breathing heavily and seems to be in a rush. She was about to announce some good news that she was able to move the wedding date but stopped to stare at the two sitting in front of the altar with their outfits on their lap.

"Are you freaking kidding me? Are you two pulling some sort of a prank on us?!”

“Wait, no Seungyeon listen-”

“Don’t you guys know how it took us some nerves and guts to face the management officials even thought our requests were this little to be approved?!”

“Unnie, please. This isn’t our own doing. Let us explain.”

“Oh you two better be, before I changed my mind to be your wedding coordinator.” Seungyeon crossed her arms and rolled her eyes. “What are you two doing here in such a messy place anyway? This gives me the creeps by looking at it.”

Janghoon and Jeongyeon sighed at looked at each other before turning their attention back at Seungyeon. “We found this here but… it’s a complicated story to tell.”

Seungyeon still gave her interest to listen on whatever happened to these two. Jeongyeon and Janghoon both tried their best to narrate their ghostly encounter in the form of their own wedding attires. After the conversation, Seungyeon closed this with a deal that there must no one should know what happened despite being skeptical at how strange their experience had to be.

They instead followed the new schedule that were provided to them as a second chance to make their wedding successful. Jeongyeon and Janghoon got happily married on April 24, 2023.

A year later, Jeongyeon and Janghoon welcomed their first child in their family. About the condition of their wedding dress and tuxedo, the married couple decided to lock it on a box and hid it through the deepest and farthest area of their basement.

Not only because of their haunting experience, but also when they heard from Seungyeon and Seungkwan their own story that they believed to saw a glimpse of their shadows having two, despite the fact that there was only one light source in the altar.

And based from their investigation with a nun, they have discovered that it might belong to two poor souls of an engaged couple who was supposed to be married but got murdered by someone who was against their marriage, leading to the chapel’s shut down.

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NOTE: This is based again from a Filipino entry in Spooktober 2023 by MilkyClear titled "The Blushing Bride". I really love how he narrates the real-life stories of those people who submitted for him to share their scary encounters. Probably expect that I'll be retelling some of my favorite entries of his in the upcoming one-shots.

#twice #twice fanfic #twice au #kpop au #kpop fanfic #twice jeongyeon #yoo jeongyeon #jeongyeon #horror one shots #twice one shots #kpop one shots #kpop horror #horror

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simpingforstardew · 23 hours

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misty [chapter three]

pairing: sdv harvey x reader

synopsis: harvey has always been a man of routine and order— although just as he begins to tire of his life in pelican town, a new farmer moves to the valley and turns his life around. chapter three.

warnings: poor overworked harvey :(( please enjoy my harvey playlist while you read ♡ (this is crossposted from ao3).

word count: 1.6k

<< last chapter | next chapter >>

The fluorescent lights of the clinic cast a harsh, sterile glow, illuminating the white walls and linoleum floors of Harvey’s small office, casting an unnaturally pale glow over the cluttered desk. The clatter of the doctor’s footsteps on tiled floors echoes through the empty hallways.

Today was supposed to be different. Today was supposed to be his day off.

For the past two weeks, Harvey had been working overtime, sacrificing his days off to update Pravoloxinanone prescriptions, coordinate with healthcare professionals around Ferngill, and arranging appointments for the townsfolk. Turns out that without the distraction of an attractive farmer, the passing work days have been unforgivingly laborious.

He could, in theory, ask Maru to pick up some extra shifts, to stay behind a couple hours more. He knew she was eager to help, but he couldn’t bring himself to burden her further. She had her own responsibilities, attending college lectures online while juggling part-time work at the clinic.

A sudden death rattle of his fax machine shattered the silence, its mechanical whirring cutting through the stillness of the office like a knife— a relentless reminder of the endless stream of tasks demanding his attention.

He glances at the clock on the wall, his tired eyes struggling to focus through the thick lenses of his glasses.

3:30 pm.

Another hour wasted, another day lost to the demands of his job. He sighed wearily, running a hand through his greying hair. Harvey still couldn’t tell if the strands of silver were a testament to his age or his perpetual stress. He didn’t know which answer he would prefer.

He gazed out of his window, watching sparrows gracefully darting through the clear sky above. Dark-eyed juncos, specifically— Junco hyemalis. Harvey’s brief fascination with bird-watching while at University always managed to resurface during moments like this, when searching for an excuse to look away from his work.

The sight stirs something within him, prompting him to break the monotony. Locking himself in his office, Harvey realized, would only consign him to an evening of fatigue. So, he pushes away from his cluttered desk, picking up his green overcoat from the coat rack as he leaves the clinic.

Hurrying down the cobblestone path, Harvey’s mind races with a cacophony of thoughts. He fails to notice you walking his way until it is too late.

You collide with a jolt, and Harvey stumbles backward. The doctor could practically hear his heart pounding in his chest. His dishevelled appearance must have been evident, his fatigue and stress written plainly across his face.

“Oh, shoot, I—,” You panic, rubbing your shoulder bashfully, “I am so sorry, Harvey I-,”

“No, no, It is perfectly fine— I was just, distracted tthinking about a recent article I read about the recent rise of…” His voice trails off, acutely aware of how awkward he must sound, “Whooping… cough.”

“Hm, that doesn’t sound like much fun,” you grimace sympathetically.

“Oh, on the contrary! Pertussis is actually rather fascinating, that reminds me to reach out to Jodi and Shane to see if they can book a vaccination appointment for Vincent and J—”

“You’re doing the thing.” You interrupt, recognising a fellow workaholic when you see one. A kindred spirit.

“What thing? I am not doing a… thing.”

“Sure you are— you’re doing the thing I used to do at my old job,” Your tone gentle but firm. “You grovel and moan over your work, it stresses you out so you take a break, then you realize you’re stuck thinking about the work that was stressing you out!”

“Well, I am a doctor— There is no way for me to not think… I- I have an entire town to look after for Yoba’s sake. ” Harvey retorts defensively.

“Of course, and that’s the problem.”

“That is..?”

In that moment, as you notice the doctor picking as the skin on his fingers, you see the bags under his eyes; the paleness of his skin. You had seen undead creatures in the mines more full of life.

“Who’s looking after you, Harvey?” your voice softens, concern evident in your eyes, “I mean, I don’t want to pry, but I’m not surprised you’re stressed with the weight of the valley on you all the time. But you can’t manage that burden alone. Nobody could.”

“O-Oh, I um—,” Harvey falters, stammering as his defences crumble in the face of your genuine concern, “Appreciate your candour, truly, but you do not need to worry about me. My well-being shouldn’t be any of your…” He huffs, his cheeks flushed.

Despite his larger stature, Harvey’s wide eyes scanning your face anxiously made the man appear small; weak. You ignore the impulse to take his rosy cheeks in your hands, or to clasp his hands to calm his nervous fidgeting.

He clears his throat as his phone rings— a blocky grey mobile, a model you haven’t seen since 2005.

“I- need to take this call, I’m sorry.” He leaves, jogging back to the clinic. As you see him leave, you wonder what exactly he was apologising for.

As you push open the creaky doors of the saloon, the sounds of clinking glasses and laughter wash over you like a warm embrace. The dimly lit room is filled with the scent of aged wood and the tang of whiskey.

“Hey there, stranger!” Sam’s booming voice cuts through the din, drawing the attention of the entire room. His grin is as infectious as ever, and you can’t help but return it as you make your way over to the group by the pool table. Abigail and Sebastian wave you over eagerly, their faces lit up with genuine excitement.

“Hey gang, sorry I got caught up with something,” You drop your backpack on the polished wooden floor as you crash onto the plush sofa next to Abigail.

It’s been years since you’ve all been together like this—no screens or avatars, just flesh and blood friends reconnecting in the real world. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of nostalgia wash over you. Sure, Sebastian is now a little taller, Sam a little more pierced, Abigail a little more muscular. Despite what has changed since you last visited the valley to see your grandfather, the gang was still here. And with the way you all slip into conversation, it’s as if you never left.

As you settle in, taking in the familiar faces and the comforting hum of conversation, Abigail leans in with a mischievous glint in her eye. “So, what’s going on with your love life? It seems like every time we’d chat online, you’d either be lovesick or swearing off romance altogether.”

Your smile falters slightly.

It wasn’t as though you weren’t looking for love— if anything, you consider yourself quite the romantic— but with the chaos of the farm, dating seems out of the question.

“I don’t know, Abs. I’ve come to realise that dying alone is underrated,” You quip with a chuckle, hoping a comedic distraction will satisfy as an answer, “Honestly, the freedom of being single rules, you guys should try it some time.”

“Nahh,” Sam lets out a hearty laugh, flopping down on top of you and Abigail with all the grace of a newborn foal, “We’ve got the dating thing down, shout out to your lonely ass though.”

“Sam!”Abigail gasps incredulously, pushing the blonde off with a huff, though there’s a fondness in her eyes that belies her words, “Don’t be an dick!”

You all share a laugh as Sam looks up from his crumpled position on the floor, his puppy-dog eyes silently pleading for forgiveness.

Sebastian places his drink on a nearby table, sauntering over to the three of you, “Well, (Y/n) if you ever need a wingman, you know where to find me.” He smirks at you before picking up the pool cue resting against the wall.

“Pfft, as if they’d pick you to be their wingman when I’m right here!” Sam stands up, looking frantically between you and Sebastian before dropping dramatically to his knees, “Right, bestie? You’d totally trust me to pick you out a partner!”

Before you can imagine what having the punk as your wingman would entail, the bell above the bar’s front door chimes: Elliot strides through the saloon, exchanging greetings with Emily and Gus before running his fingers through his auburn hair. You wonder what shampoo he uses.

The poet’s eyes scan the room until they land on you. “Ah, apologies for the interruption. Have any of you seen Harvey, perchance? This is the second time he has failed to show…” Elliot’s voice trails off, concern etching lines into his chiselled features.

“Oh, I saw him earlier. He seemed,” Overworked? Exhausted? Close to death? “…busy.”

“Ah, well that certainly sounds like him. If you happen to run into him again, do try to convince him to re-join society.” Elliot laughs, although there is no more humour in his statement as there is truth.

As the author leaves, the conversation in the saloon continues to flow. Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you might have overstepped with Harvey earlier— the thought gnaws at you.

You don’t know why you are so worried about him, surely he can look after himself; surely it didn’t matter if he has somebody in his life to look after him. You try not to think about somebody else being there for him. Somebody else holding him at night. Somebody else wiping away his tears.

Instead, you force a smile, joining in the laughter, as your concern for Harvey lingers, a shadow over the otherwise cheerful atmosphere of the saloon.

#sdv #sdv fanfic #sdv x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv harvey #stardew valley fanfic #sdv harvey x reader #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey fanfic #stardew valley harvey #stardew harvey #harvey sdv #sdv harvey x y/n #sdv harvey x you

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