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theosbaby · 3 months

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i still hate you

mattheo riddle x fem!reader

masterlist

summary; you're assigned as mattheo's partner for a project, which forces you to work together despite the hatred you feel towards him.

warnings; enemies to lovers, sassy!reader, swearing, name-calling, insults, SMUT, dom!mattheo, sub!reader, slight neck grabbing, dirty talk, hair pulling, public sex (kinda), degrading and praising, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex.

author's note; english isn't my first lenguage, so you might find mistakes. i had the hugest writer's block, but i finally finished this... hope you like it!

when professor snape assigned mattheo riddle as your partner for a very important potions project, you knew right away that you were going to fail. you hated mattheo and he hated you as well; there was no way you'd be able to work together without trying to kill each other in the process.

"hello there, princess," he greeted when you arrived at the library, taking a look at you.

you rolled your eyes as you approached the table where he was sitting and you dropped the books on top of it. then, you watched as he slouched in his chair, spreading his legs wide. despite yourself, that action made your heart skip a beat. you couldn't deny he was very attractive, even though you despised him, but that was something you'd never admit out loud.

"don't call me 'princess'," you replied, making a face, "you know i hate that."

mattheo chuckled softly, his eyes sparkling with amusement, while he crossed his arms over his chest and said, "oh, i know, my dear. that's why i keep doing it." his smirk grew wider as he watched your reaction.

you narrowed your eyes, glaring at his smug expression. you couldn't believe how insufferable he was.

"stop acting like an idiot," you said, taking a seat on the table.

mattheo leaned forward in his chair, resting his arms on top of the table and spoke, "or what, princess? you'll hex me?" he asked, sarcasm clear in his voice, "i doubt it."

you saw him winking at you just to piss you off, which made you clench your fists tightly, biting back a curse, completely unamused by his behaviour.

"don't tempt me, riddle," you snapped at him. "i just might."

mattheo's smirk grew wider as he watched your anger bubble up. you knew he loved to push your buttons until you got all riled up like that.

"so feisty," he murmured, his dark eyes locked on yours. "i like that."

"dont't fucking flirt with me, you asshole," you spat.

your face scrunched up in disgust, which was faked of course, deep down you knew you liked him more than you would even recognise out loud... or even to yourself.

mattheo leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms again, completly unfazed by your ourtbust. he looked at you with a smug grin tugging at the corner of his lips, as if challenging you to stop him.

"are you always this uptight, sweetheart?" he asked wih a mocking tone. "it's exhausting just watching you."

"are you always this infuriating?" you bite back, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him.

laughter bubbled up from mattheo's chest, filling the air around you. he found your defensive sass quite charming, even if it was just a front. you shut him down, not wanting the librarian to scold you for making noise.

"only around you, sweetheart," he answered, his voice low and husky, "you bring out the worst in me."

"the feeling's mutual, darling." you responded, staring at him closely.

the potions paper was already well forgotten.

mattheo gave you a wolfish grin and leaned into you, gripping your chair to pull you dangerously close to him, his eyes darkening as he looked at you.

"i think you secretly like me," he murmured, his voice dropping even lower as he brushed a strand of hair behind your ear. "you're just too stubborn to admit it," he added.

you laughed in response, trying to act nonchalat as you whispered, "in your fucking dreams, riddle." you winked at him after that, biting your quill nervously.

"trust me..." you saw his eyes wndering all over your body, a predatory spark shining in them, "you don't wanna know the kind of things that we do in my dreams, princess," he said, his voice filled with a dark promise.

a light blush appeared in your cheeks at his sudden and blunt admission.

"of course not, you perv," you told him, trying to appear disgusted by the idea.

in reality... well... his words had you feeling all hot and bothered.

"don't pretend you don't like it..." he said in a husky whisper, "you're blushing, sweetheart."

his hand brushed slightly the soft skin of your thigh, his fingers tracing patterns in it. your breath hitched due to is action, but you pushed his hand away almost immediately.

"don't touch me, mattheo," you warned him.

despite your reluctance, you had to press your legs together to ease the familiar tingling between them. mattheo noticed the way you were squirming in your seat an smirked.

"stop resisting me, yeah?" he reached to grasp at your jaw a little bit roughly, forcing you to look at him. "you know you want me, sweetheart, i can see it in your eyes."

you gasped in surprise, looking up at him with doe like eyes as you inhaled sharply, suddenly feeling intimidated in his presence.

"now that's a pretty sound," he murmured against your lips before capturing them in a heated kiss.

his tongue slid against your plump bottom lip, demanding entrance as his hand moved down to curl around your neck. you whimpered softly, parting your lips just enough to allow his tongue inside your mouth. you grasped at his curly hair, your fingers tangling in his hair strands.

"that's more like it, princess... i was starting to get tired of all that fighting," he growled lowly.

his hands slid down to cup your ass cheeks and he squeezed gently before lifting you up so you were sitting on top of the wooden table. you thanked god that you both were in a hidden corner of the library and no one could actually see you.

"i still hate you," you pointed out, spreading your legs to make room for him in between them.

"yeah... you keep telling yourself that."

he grinned wickedly at you before leaning in to capture your lips once more, easing himself between your spread thighs. his hands moved down your hips in search of the hem of your school skirt as he practically devoured your mouth, making you whimper into the kiss. when he found it, his fingers worked quickly to push it up over your hips, revealing a pair of black lace panties.

"mhmm, you smell so good," he mumbled as he started trailing kisses down your jawline and neck.

you tilted your head to the side to give him more access to your neck and moaned when you felt his big veiny hands caressing your creamy thighs, getting closer to where you needed him most with each passing second.

"i bet you taste even better," he whispered against your skin before nipping lightly at the sensitive flesh os your neck.

he cupped your pussy through your panties, feeling your wetness seeping through the lace. his touch drew a needy whimper out of you.

"mattheo..." you breathed out, bitting your lower lip eagerly.

"so fucking wet for me, princess," he groaned, his fingers tracing soft cicles over your clit through the delicate thin fabric.

you gripped at his muscular forearm, your nails digging into it as you let your head fall backwards. you had to bite your lips to hold back the loud moans that threatened to escape your lips.

"mattheo, please," you panted while your hips bucked forward.

you needed more.

"please what, sweetheart?" he teased with a smirk, his lips brushing against your ear.

he withdrew his fingers to grab your panties and push them aside slowly, exposing your pink glistening pussy to his hungry gaze. he took a moment to admire your beautiful body, groaning at the sight of you.

"i need your fingers," you answered in a low whisper.

a smile curled in his lips as he leaned down to capture your mouth in another scorching kiss. his hand slid between your legs again, his fingers slipping through your soaked folds to touch your clit and swirl around it gently.

"such a needy little slut you are, huh?" he growled against your lips, his free hand grasping at your throat roughly.

you squirmed underneath his touch and your eyes fluttered shut. you didn't answer him, his assault to your clit was making your mind go blank.

"look at you," he chuckled lowly, his voice raspy. "not so sassy now, are you?"

two of his fingers slid down slowly to tease your tight entrance before he finally pushed them in. you let out a soft little whine as you felt the stretch from his long slender digits, your eyes rolling back.

"fuck," he groaned, pulling his fingers almost all the way out before thrusting them back in again, roughly, his grip in your throat tightening. "you like that, you little slut?"

you moaned in response, nodding, while your face scrunched in pleasure. your hips bucked up towards his hand when you felt his digits brushing your g-spot, which sent shivers down your spine.

"mattheo- fuck."

"you're dripping all over the fucking table," he purred, his fingers moving faster within you while his thumb circled your clit. "can't get enough of my fingers, huh?"

your mouth dropped open in a silent scream of pleasure and you opened your eyes to look at him. you could feel the coil in your belly tightening as he pushed you towards your orgasm.

"i'm gonna cum," you stuttered, your breathing coming out in sharp pants.

"do it," he ordered, his thumb pressing harder against your swollen clit as his fingers curled inside you to hit your sweet spot. "cum in my fingers like the slut you are."

your whole body started shaking from pleasure when you came, your pussy clenching around his fingers tightly, and he had to cover your mouth to mute your loud moans so nobody in the library would hear you.

when you came down from your high, he slowly pulled his fingers out of your pussy, giving your thigh a light smack before capturing your lips a rough, mind-blowing kiss. after he pulled away, he gave you a smirk.

"that's a good girl."

you fell limp onto the wooden table, your legs still wide open, as you tried to recover from your orgasm.

"get up," he ordered, reaching down to tug on your hair and pulling you onto your feet. you wobbled a little as he bent you over the table. "i'm not done with you yet."

you gasped and gripped at the edge of the table. you couldn't help but squirm in anticipation when you heard the rustling of his clothes as he worked to free his erection from his pants.

smirking, he forced your legs apart and gave you a sharp slap on the ass that left a bright red handprint. he rubbed the tip of his cock against your soaked pussy, teasingly, before slowly pushing inside of you.

"you're so fucking tight," he growled, one of his hands grabbing your hip, while the other grasped at your hair to push you back towards his cock.

you moaned at the intrusion; his big cock stretched you out to the brink, making you writhe in pleasure and pain at the same time.

he thrust into you slowly at first, letting you adjust to him, before he began to fuck you hard against the table. he turned you into a moaning mess in no time, which forced you to cover your mouth with your hand to keep quiet, your brow furrowed in pleasure.

"you love this dick, huh?" he asked between labored breaths, his free hand slapping against your ass cheek again.

you cried out at the spank, your palm muting the sound, luckily. you were unable of forming any coherent thought as he kept pounding hard into your aching cunt.

"have i fucked you dumb or what?" he mocked, pulling at your hair to make you look back at him, "answer me."

you whimpered, managing to reply, "love your dick... feels so fucking good."

as you talked, your pussy started tightening around his cock, announcing your upcoming orgasm. he growled, sliding his hand down your belly to spank your clit as he thrust into you faster.

"don't you dare cum until i say so," he ordered.

"please," you whimpered, his slap on your clit sending shivers down your spine. "need it so bad."

your whole body was trembling as you tried to hold back your orgasm. you dropped your head onto the table, panting for air.

"fucking beg me," he demanded, his fingers starting to circle tour clit.

"mattheo, please... please, let me cum," you pleaded in a whisper, whining pathetically, "i'm begging you, please... i promise i'll be a good girl."

with a smug grin, he thrust deep inside you one final time and groaned as your tight walls clenched around him.

"such a good little slut... alright, you can cum now."

you came while you moaned his name repeatedly, trying to keep your voice as low as you possibly could. your eyes rolled back and your toes curled as your pussy pulsed so hard that you pushed him over the edge with you.

"fuck," he growled, pulling out of you and covering your mouth to muffle your moans as he shot his cum all over your ass cheeks.

while you lied on the table, completely exhausted and trying to catch your breath, he leaned down to kiss your cheek softly.

"still hate me, princess?" he purred, running his fingers through your sweat-drenched hair.

"fuck you," you muttered under your breath; it became clear that you were joking when you smirked.

"you already did, sweetheart."

#♡ ;; theosbaby #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo x you #mattheoxreader #mattheo x y/n #mattheo smut #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin #slytherin boys #theo nott smut #draco malfoy smut #lorenzo bershire smut #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #slytherin boys smut #slytherin smut

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cheriiyaya · 2 months

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Darling can I be your favorite?

YAN!Nikolai, dazai, and Fyodor x Fem!reader

You're the girl of their dreams, so why would they let you slip away so easily?

Contents: UNDER 15 DNI !!, obsessive behavious, yandere DC, manipulation, isolation, physical abuse+blood in nikolai's part from the yanderes pov, I do not condone any of the behaviours shown in this fic; these are not examples of healthy relationships or behaviours.

A/N: ...well this is my first yan fic and my first time writing for nikolai so his part is kinda short and maaybe ooc...hope it's good tho !!

Dazai swears it wasn't supposed to be like this.

Your relationship with dazai started out pretty normal,

if normal was a thing with dazai osamu. but he always tried his best to be the best lover you could have, spoiling you in affection and sweet words. You trusted him, and for the most part he allowed his heart to open and let you inside.

But the heart of the former demon prodigy was like a Venus fly trap, luring you inside with sweetness before it cages you in and devours you whole.

Sweet words twisted into cruel lies and his gentle affection turned into manipulative games. And like the fool you were you fell neatly like puzzle pieces into them.

It wasn't his fault, dazai told himself whenever you'd cry or become frustrated.

Whenever you cried he'd grasp you in his arms, cooing softly and telling you in the nicest way to shut up. That this was what was best for you.

How could he let you out where he couldn't see you? What if you got hurt? What if you left him and stabbed him in the back? You were his everything, a precious thing. Don't people lock their precious metals away from prying eyes, so they can never be stolen?

Everything he did was for you, why couldn't you see that? You were naive, so naive and so trusting.

You couldn't even deny it, seeing how you'd run back to him every single time he promised it'd all stop and it'd go back to normal.

"hush, c'mon now bella', don't look at me like that...I'm doing this all for you, I promise it'll get better from here, okay...? Don't worry that pretty head of yours about anything anymore."

Fyodor's relationship with you has always been a little...off but you never thought too much of it.

Sure, sometimes he's overly protective, or he always needs to know where you are, but he's always considered your emotions.

Or you told yourself that.

First it was limiting who you could go out with without him following close behind. Then it was no contact with other men he deemed "dangerous" to you, and they'd mysteriously go missing soon after your interactions with them. Then it was no leaving the house without him, among other controlling rules he imposed.

Even throughout this, fyodor never stopped to assure you that it was all your fault. It wasn't his fault he was such a a possessive man.

You were such a pretty thing, and pretty things draw ugly eyes that wish to snatch them away. It wasn't his fault you were so alluring, what was he supposed to do?

If only you'd never caught his eye.

You didn't need anyone else, fyodor would tell you. Wasn't he enough? He gave you everything you wanted and you'd still thrash around and scream at him like a ungrateful child.

If you ever tried to leave him, fyodor wouldn't be concerned. Afterall, he knows where you are at all times (those cameras around yokohama have another use other than tracking his enemies, you see)

In a few hours time, you'd be back in his loving arms as he told you how much of an idiot you were for not trusting him.

"See, dear? It's useless to try and leave me. This is what's best for you, and you do know that, don't you?...Come here, stop crying angel, this is your fault after all."

Nikolai was quite upfront with his love for you.

Which is why as soon as your guard was down he snatched you away from the worlds keen, prying eyes. Locked away like a bird in a cage, what hypocritical actions from a man that preached freedom.

This was freedom for him, however. of course this was wrong! But knowing this and dissociating himself with what was widely considered a moral "evil" is the best way to prove ones freedom, no?

You felt suffocated-not only was the snowy-haired man always around you, stuck to the hip, but his affection was certainly unusual.

Huh? Someone made you uncomfortable? Don't worry, their severed tongue will be delivered right to your doorstep!

How you wish it was Nikolai's head instead.

Nikolai doesn't like to, but hes not against hurting you for his selfish purposes.

In fact, there was something so pretty about you when you were looking up at him with big, glossy eyes and your skin stained with welts and bruises-maybe even a spattering of scarlet blood. You're so tempting like that, how could he not smother you in his love, however twisted it may be?

You were his, and his only after all. Why are you resisting?

"Eh? Dove, why're you crying? Ohhh, c'mon now baby, you gotta listen to me now and this'll all go smoothly, you'll see!"

©Cheriiyaya 2024

Tagging: @aureatchi @little-miss-chaoss @hanging-wisteria @atzuhi @lovesick-fairy @adoredazai @ravencincaide @dazaikinniess @nyx-prodigy @himikoslove @teddirika @hyacinth-venom @kaitoluver @dydrem

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yanderehsr · 4 months

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Requesting Knight of Favonius Reader telling Yandere Jean, Eula, and Amber about how they want to quit someday and explore the world.

Sure, Hope you'll enjoy😄

Trigger Warning: Yandere, Obsessive behaviour, Possessive behaviour, Kidnapping

Jean: She becomes heartbroken, so you wanna leave the knights of favonius, you wanna leave her, she won't stop you, and she certainly wouldn't kidnap you either, she just becomes really depressed on top of her overworking herself.

In her heartbreak Jean makes up delusions to deal with this, maybe someone is forcing this decision on you, maybe you needed a knight in shining armor to save you… maybe she can be that knight, she still won't kidnap you but some people around you seem to go missing and Jean has been looking happier recently, weird right?

“Yes, I am looking into the disappearances, you have nothing to worry about… until this situation is figured out I will need you to stay in Mondstadt, thank you for your cooperation”

Eula: Nope nope, never, not happening, there is no way she would ever allow you to travel elsewhere, not when there is so much danger out there and especially not away from her, the only thing she thinks is a good thing is that you are going to quit being a knight, she never wanted you to be one in the first place.

Eula is patient, she waits for you to quit and when you go outside of Mondstadt she is already waiting for you, to bring you to her home, she knows it was your dream to explore but she can't let you, she rarely allows people a place in her heart and she would be a fool to allow you to get away.

“Don't look at me like that, you brought this unto yourself when you wanted to leave”

Amber: Oh you wanna leave, no problem she'll go with you, she'll take a few weeks vacation, she doesn't mind it if you quit working as a knight, she'll provide for you herself, in her mind she sees your relationship as dating even if you two aren't.

But the second Amber figures out that you wanna leave for longer than her vacation is, she drags you back to Mondstadt, you and her are meant for eachother, you are supposed to never leave each other, so Amber does whatever she has to do to bring you back.

“You aren't trying to leave me are you… Y-you totally are, I won't allow it you are coming back now whether you want it or not”

#yandere #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere female #yandere jean #yandere jean x reader #yandere eula #yandere eula x reader #yandere amber #yandere amber x reader

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schwarzkatje · 16 days

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dark!orphan!ellie x nun!reader || part 2

disclaimer: this contains religious themes and slightly interiorised homophobia so if you know this is not for you don't read any further. i hope you like this descent into the pits of hell of both religion and my hunger for introspection (and also please tell me the story flow makes sense). not proofread bc i hate doing it with a passion. also, this is taking an angsty turn that i didn't mean but oh well.

> for part 1 click here || for part 3 click here

"ellie!" was what could be heard all over the courtyard and what eventually became the reason why the person whose name you shouted dropped her usual insolent smirk.

the incident of the previous day had left you in disbelief. you reckoned that it had more to do with your own lust driven conduct than it had with ellie's. you were an educator there, your role didn't involve letting one of your alumni have her way with you, no matter how legal of age she was and how little of a age gap was between the two of you. it had been immoral, shameful, a pure fever dream to which you were willing to remedy.

and what about you being a nun and still indulging in such wicked behaviours? had you perhaps forgotten your religious vocation? the fulcrum that had been dictating your whole life and on which every decision of yours had depended. and you could still play pretend that your attraction to women didn't play a huge part in your decision to confine yourself in a convent or wherever you were needed, but that would be your umpteenth sin, lying.

acknowledging your mind was beginning to wander in dangerous territories that could tarnish your renewed courage and substitute it with coward uncertainty, you refrain from further dwelling there and instead focus on what you had came to do.

before you was ellie, her grimace now an upright expression of disgust as her head hinted to the girl in front of her to leave. at least she looked like she was reading the room, recognising you had the urgency to address a serious situation and that this called for a certain degree of privacy.

you were fast proven wrong and the devil's laugh echoed in your ears, teasing you for not giving up on ellie and still tumbling in the illusion of reading any of her actions as redeemable or without the wickedness the other sisters had been warning you about.

"wasn't the last time enough for you that had to come for more?" was spat out in what you now considered a torment, given the frequency of this filth. however, it now strengthen the force of the damage it meant to inflict as it had a thick skin to wear. it wasn't just a decontextualised question without a standing and stable ground. ellie was obliging you to revive your blasphemous encounter in which she had menaced you with something so inconceivably disgusting that you deemed as outrageous as a capital sin and so offensive towards god to even give it a mere second of life in your memory.

without giving you the semblance of a chance to defend your dignity, she began her usual and monstrous journey of tearing as much of your integrity and hope as possible.

"what, are you gonna inform mother superior about me smoking a blunt?" the mentioned item was discarded with nonchalance. "or did a single orgasm with me made you so obsessed that you now are jealous i was talking to another girl?" was the grotesque addition to her first equally absurd insinuation.

needless to say, no matter how much you had grown accustomed to ellie's way of tainting her speech, you still couldn't help but remind your chest to let the stored air out, trapped in an aching press around your heart.

what dealt the final and most destructive blow was the ever insinuating belief that ellie simply was beyond control and beyond salvation. a realisation so unbearable that your ego pressed so intensely to push all reasoning aside and out of your mind. the same ego that would have rather died than accept that the time you had spent believing you could make a change had all been wasted bullshit, that you had in fact been dead wrong when you had taken ellie's side against the abuse of power perpetrated by the other nuns.

you were torn between screaming in frustration and crying in pain because of just how much you were supposed to take and let sink in you and once again negotiate in order not to accept defeat and it was starting to weight so much you—

"why don't we talk about what seems to be an unhealthy obsession that you have with fucking a nun?"

shit.

you gained awareness of what you just had vomited when ellie, even though for a brief moment, found herself not knowing how to comment on such an unexpected outburst.

what the hell did you just do? all the big talking about being the mature and reasonable one and it took the time of a snapping of fingers for you to descend on the level of a petty teenager quarrel. ellie didn't make a show of her respect to elders with spotless reputation, so what chance did you stand of wishing for ellie to come to her senses thanks to your guidance?

ellie taking advantage of the situation and turning it to her favour was typical of her and it happened faster than you could expect.

"well, well... and what if that is the case, mh?" the humming sound was accompanied by the slight tilt of her head to the side, as if to find a fashion to penetrate deeper inside the remnants of your crumbling facade. not to mention, this was becoming more than she could have ever bargained for and the hunger in her eyes was proof that if anything she was finding your destruction the most amusing event she could recall.

"i would call an exorcist and put an end to this foolishness," you were conscious that this, if anything, was but fuel to ellie's debauchery.

"i quite like that. would you have them exorcise me before or after you get the chance to ask for god's forgiveness after coming all over my face while screaming his name?" ellie was giving voice to anything that came to her mind at that point. she was slipping, drowning in her own depravity and thirst for the unquenchable rush of heat that followed the vision of your face transmuted into something uncontrollable.

and infuriated you were. putting god into this hellish game, using his name in vain. you had just one objective in mind and ellie tore it down before you could even attempt to have her admit her wrongdoing. what you had been saying was coated in venom, tracing the path of ellie's poisonous temptations and completely detached to your first intention.

you were dancing on ellie's palm, the same way everyone in the orphanage was. you were no exception and it was feeling more and more like a death sentence.

before you could let go of the last droplet of willingness and accept that you were now a slave to her sick play, you slapped her on her face.

you were no longer your own person, you were a shell to somebody else's actions because you had spent your years learning to hate physical violence masqueraded as a educational mean.

you couldn't care less. and for this reason when ellie threatened you with the promise of making you pay for that, you bathed in a perverse anticipation for what she could possibly have in store.

#ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie x reader smut #ellie williams smut #ellie x y/n #ellie smut #ellie x you #the last of us smut #dark ellie #ellie williams x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie tlou

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just-another-star-47 · 28 days

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I feel like Hogwarts Legacy has done a much better job in creating characters fitting into their houses. 😅

I know in the Harry Potter books it's about 'actions are more important than just character traits, but it feels weird, when Harry for example is very much a Gryffindor at his core in the first place - like he didn't really need to go against his traits at all. 😅

When it comes to the houses I always ask myself what the character would do in a stressful situation - I think that's always a good indicator of where they belong.

As Harry dreams about Sirius beeing tortured by Voldemort, his first reaction is to attack, to get into action, to find him, fight everone who stands in his way and done - simple, reckless, a little stupid Gryffindor logic.

Hermione on the other side (I know she's technically a Gryffindor, but that's the point right? In my mind she would have been better off in Ravenclaw), thinks in that exact same situation. She wants to make sure it's not a trap, thinks about the dangers that will await them and tries to prepare herself and the others for it.

I feel in Hogwarts Legacy it's much more clear.

Natsai is very adventurous, her first reaction to Rookwood and Harlow is to fight them. She throws herself in dangerous situations and just wings it from there on.

Garreth doesn't care what others think of him and just does his thing. Could his potions be dangerous to him or other students? Very much so. Does he care? Not at all.

I had my problems with Leander, but I really like now that they put him into Gryffindor because I think he shows the bad sides of the traits of his house very well. He's highly competitive (I think competitive and ambitious are different things) to a point were he becomes arrogant and annoying. He wants to fight and learn dangerous spells, to a point were he's rude to a professor. I don't think he's a coward, he's just not able to let actions follow his big words.

Amit loves knowledge just because of knowledge itself. He is easily fascinated by other cultures and probably everything around him and tries to understand it. He wants to know the 'how' and 'why' and is very creative when it comes to problem solving.

Poppy is brave, but always because of a reason, not for the adventure itself. She wants to protect and has a very soft spot for the weaker ones. If problems arise, she'll ask for help and has overall a very caring personality.

Ominis first reaction, when he catches MC leaving the Undercroft is to threaten her with his status and connections. A behaviour caused by the stress of feeling betrayed and a clear indicator of his house. 😅

And do we even have to talk about Sebastian? 😅 If there's a problem, his first reaction is to charm, to manipulate, to taunt and to gather information so that it's more likely he succeeds.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #ominis gaunt #poppy sweeting #natsai onai #leander prewett #garreth weasley #harry potter #hermione granger #hogwarts houses

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slytherinsallows · 1 month

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A quick bathroom break 🌶️🌶️🌶️

// Hey everyone! I’ve been gone a few months but I’ve finally decided to start writing again! I have some wips and a couple fresh ideas and new parts of old stories I’m the works so stay tuned and enjoy this horny oneshot 🤭

Summary: Sebastian gets a little excited thinking about Mc in class, resulting in a quick bathroom break….

Tags: solo masturbation, fantasising

Sebastian twitched in his chair. How in Merlin’s name had this class only started five minutes ago?

It felt like someone had used a bloody time turner…

He sighed and ran his hand through his messy brown hair, fidgeting his legs, trying not to think about last nights dream at all costs…

Mc sprawled out on his bed, soft and delicate legs spread in front of him, her lips curbed into a seductive smile. It was agonising him.

No, he couldn’t think about this here. After all, this little game she liked to play with him was becoming…dangerous, to say the least.

All the professors words felt like gobbledegook at this point, his mind deviously exploring back to her body. Those curves, those hips, her sweet soft skin, delicious enough to give him a sugar rush.

He groaned as he felt a bump between his legs start to grow with each passing thought.

Fuck…

His eyes fluttered around the class, hoping no one would notice his strange behaviour… but the more dull the lecture became, the more he’d find his mind wandering back to the her body.

It wasn’t just in his dreams either, she was a tease constantly for him, making him wait for some, for any, relief. It was clear she loved this effect she had on him, and for once in Sebastian’s life, he was wrapped around her finger.

The bulge was getting worse now, painfully obvious if anyone were to look at him. He was going to have to go and take care of himself at this rate…

His cock twitched in annoyance, begging him to go and sort it out, and his impulsivity took over…

He waited for the class to become distracted and quickly excused himself, be-lining it to the boys bathrooms. Throwing the door open, locking it, struggling with his belt…

Sebastian groaned, unable to wait, pawing at the zip on his crotch, desperate to rub one out. Once his member was finally free, he leaned one hand on the stall, his other finding its way to his pulsing member.

He rested his head on the door of the stall as he began working his length, his large veiny hands wasting no time in satisfying his hunger…

Sebastian was big, and only Mc could do this to him… those gorgeously glazed pink lips wrapped around the end of his cock, the thought of her breasts pressing against him as he fucked her… it was all too much for the poor boy to bear.

Thrusting into his hand, he imagined it was her, imagined looking into her big doe eyes as he fucked her, imagined kissing every inch of her skin. Oh how he longed for these day dreams to cease, and actually become his nightly reality.

The slytherin gritted his teeth as he already felt himself becoming close, his back starting to arch against the bathroom stall, his member begging for release.

“Mc…”, he breathed out as his thrusts became harder, faster, his hair becoming even more messy with each movement, his once somewhat tidy uniform now astray.

He pictured her face in his mind, completely giving into his urges and desires now, shamelessly groaning her name under his breath.

“Such a good girl”

His high was nearing as he pictured their bodies in his mind, just like they had done in his nightly dreams hundreds of times over, never getting tiresome. Sebastian bit his lip as he released into his hand, a low grunt escaping his body as relief washed over him.

He stood there for a while, bent over the stall, panting, hair a mess as he attempted to compose himself to re enter society. The slytherin zipped his fly back up shakily, tending to his mess of a uniform before unlocking the door and stepping out into the corridor. Just when he was about to thank god no one heard or saw him, the very girl of his temptations appeared. God this timing was mocking him at this point..

Mc smiled softly at the boy, happy to see him. “Hey Sebastian!” She giggled as she passed him, innocent to anything he had just done in her absence.

Sebastian was indefinitely flustered, a rare sight for anyone to see, as he ran his hand back through his hair and tried not to let his eyes explore her body too obviously, as if she were some kind of slab of meat.

“Hello love” he managed, trying to remain his usually confident composure despite his embarrassment.

“You look like you just ran a mile? Peeves been after you again?” She giggled, eyes flirting the whole time.

Sebastian nodded hastily. “Uh…yeah! that bloody poltergeist!” He shook his head, relieved she hadn’t suspected anything else…

“Well I was thinking maybe you wanted to unwind later? At mine?” She asked, twirling her hair subconsciously. “You look like you need to…relax a little.”

“Sure, I’ll be there!” He accepted hastily before mc waved him off, hips swaying agonisingly as she walked away.

Maybe there was a chance he would get to fulfil those desires after all…

#sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #garreth weasley #sebastian sallow fanfiction #ominis gaunt fanfiction #ominis x reader #sebastian sallow smut #garreth weasley smut #ominis gaunt smut

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kirrileesource · 1 month

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Kirrilee -- Rollercoasters (Official Music Video) 🥀 Loophole Hint 🥀

#kirrilee #kirrilee broughton #kirrilee song #spotify #kirrilee lyrics #kirrilee music #kirrilee pics #kirrilee photos #music #DAODB #Loophole #Dreaming and Other Dangerous Behaviour #Red aesthetic #Baddie #Music video #music artists #official music video #Spotify

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minnieeeeeee · 6 months

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I made some heart Icons for Kirrilee's EP

Dreaming and Other Dangerous Behaviour

#musician #fan art #my fanart #art by op #fandom #Kirrilee #Kirrilee Music #Kirrilee Broughton #Kirrilee Fandom #Dreaming and Other Dangerous Behaviour

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dragon-kazansky · 2 months

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When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Next Chapter}

Notes: This story will follow the series on Netflix. This is separate from my other fic that I wrote. This plot was given to me by @missdreamofendless 💕

Chapter One - Loyal little raven

☆☆☆

You are perched on the steps looking up at your king. Lord Morpheus was about to leave the Dreaming in search of a Rogue nightmare. It was very rare this happened, and he didn't often visit the waking world. There were many dangers in doing so.

However, you knew your king and knew he could handle this. You just wished he would permit you to go with him. You look up at him with your beady raven eyes.

"You are coming back, aren't you?" You ask.

"Why would I not return?"

"I don't know... I just have a bad feeling about this. You know what he's like. Wouldn't it be better if I went with you? Just to keep an eye on things?"

"No. I won't be long. Wait for me here." Morpheus gazes at you. You sigh and nod your head once.

"Fine."

Lucienne looks concerned, too, but doesn't voice it. She stands with her hands clasped together, looking up at him. You fly from the stairs and land on her shoulder.

Lord Morpheus put his helm on. He leaves for the waking world, surrounded by his sand. He's gone just like that.

Lucienne looks at you. "Come join me in the library while we wait."

"Yeah, okay..."

You fly on ahead. You knew Lord Morpheus could more than handle himself, but you're just not sure today was the best day. You've had a bad feeling from the start. Just the terrible thought something would go wrong.

You wanted to be proven wrong.

In an hour or so, you were certain he would return with The Corianthian in tow. All would be well again.

Lucienne took a seat at her desk and began to go through her books. You landed on the edge and decided to help the best you could. Jessamy even came by to help, too. Lucienne was adamant about keeping you both busy until Dream's return. She was good like that.

So good, in fact, that several hours passed before you were done. It was only when the last book was on the shelf that you realised a whole day passed and your king had yet to make an appearance.

Lucienne realised too.

"Why hasn't he come back yet?" You ask, looking up at her.

"I don't know. I'll go search for him."

"I'm coming too."

Lucienne knows there is little sense in arguing with you. With you flying over her, she makes her way around the palace. She asks residents and staff if they have seen any sign of their king. No one had an affirmative response.

The fact that if he had returned and not immediately came in search for you was the biggest worry. Lucienne knew you were his most trusted confidant.

You were very clearly worried about him. She could hear Jessamy trying to come up with reasons why he may be late. They weren't helping much, but you also didn't seem to mind her doing so.

The throne room is the last place you both check. By then, you have lost all hope. You land on his throne. The librarian can see from your behaviour how dejected you are.

"I'm sure he's fine."

Her reassurance is appreciated, but not quite enough to cheer you up. Your king was still gone and worry had settled within your feathers.

All you could do was wait.

☆☆☆

Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months. Months turned into years. Lord Morpheus had not returned to his kingdom. The residents of the Dreaming had become divided by his disappearance. A majority of them left, either to search for their lost king, or because they believed he had abandoned them.

You never thought such a thing. He would not abandon his home, his people, his responsibility. He took pride in being the dream lord.

You waited every single day.

The mkre time that passed, the more you wondered what coukd have happened. Something had clearly gone very wrong. Had The Corianthian hurt him? No. Despite being a nightmare who ran away, you didn't believe he would be Dream's demise.

"Where are you, sir?" You curl up in your wings, just wanting him to be safe.

Sleepy sickness set in among the mortals. Some either could no longer sleep or would not wake up from sleeping. They were suffering now that the Sandman was gone.

Lucienne stayed in the Dreaming. She was loyal as anything. Jessamy also stayed, wishing her beloved king would return.

Then there was you. You would never abandon your beloved Dreaming. Your home was here. All the centuries spent serving Lord Morpheus meant more to you than anything. You were his loyal raven.

Sleep eluded you. You could not rest without his presence in the kingdom. Lucienne had noticed from the day he disappeared that you could no longer sleep. She worried about you. Most of your days were spent in the throne room waiting.

Jessamy would do daily tours around the now crumbling kingdom to search for any signs he might be back. So far, nothing.

Your hope was dwindling.

A few more years pass, and there is still no sign of him. You had been badly affected by his absence. Lucienne was even more worried about you. The bond you shared with Lord Morpheus was much more than just two companions working together. There was clearly an invisible bond that tied you both together, and it was breaking the longer he was gone.

Jessamy started to visit the waking world. Lucienne wasn't so sure about letting her go, but she eventually caved in. Jessamy was doing this for your sake. She was worried about you too.

For the longest time, she came back with no news. Then, one day, in England, she caught wind of an interesting conversation. A supposed demon trapped in a basement.

Rodrick Burgess. A magic user, apparently. Insanely rich and powerful. Jessamy had gone to investigate where he lived.

She could feel him. She could feel Lord Morpheus close by. She had never flown home so fast before. She immediately went to Lucienne, who no longer had a library. It had vanished over the years along with most of the Dreaming.

"Lucienne! Lucienne!"

The librarian looks up and sees Jessamy flying in at high speeds. She goes in for a landing and stumbles. She's too excited to slow down right now.

"I've found him!"

"What?" Lucienne looks at the raven in confusion. Her mind went straight to her finding something on their king, but that can't possibly be true.

"I've found him!" Jessamy says, her voice full of hope.

"You have found the Dream lord?"

"Yes!" Jessamy flaps her wings.

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely certain. I felt him. He's being trapped in a basement under a manorhouse." Jessamy explains.

Lucienne looks up. "We must tell her."

Jessamy nods her little head and takes flight again. She flies right toward the throne room. Lucienne does her best to keep up with the raven.

The throne room doors open, and Jessamy flies in, heading right for the throne. You lift your head to look at her as she comes over. She seems happy.

"I've found him!" She tells you.

You stare at her. Lucienne approaches the stairs and looks up at you. "Jessamy believes she has found Lord Morpheus."

You look back at Jessamy, who nods at you. "He's being kept prisoner."

You stand up and stretch your wings. "Then what are we waiting for?"

"Are you sure you wish to go?" Lucienne asks.

"At the very least, I need to know where he is. Jessamy can come with me. If we can free him, we shall."

"Very well. Return soon. I do want to lose either of you as well."

Both you and Jessamy nod and take flight. You follow her. Lucienne watches you both go, wishing that all goes well.

☆☆☆

You land in the tree with Jessamy and look down at the fancy house. It's huge. Clearly, this Rodrick Burgess is wealthy. However, you hate the man with a passion.

Just like Jessamy could, you sense the presence of your king. He is here. You are certain it is him. You try and seek that connection you share with him, but it's weak. Still, you hope he felt you trying to get through to him.

"He's definitely here." You say.

"Yes. I'm certain of it."

"What do you know of this house?"

"Not a lot. Many people come and go. There are guards everywhere. However, I think if we can get inside, we can definitely work out a plan and get in there. I am certain he is being kept below the house."

"So we just need to find a way to him." You take a good look at the house.

"Should we go back and make a plan with Lucienne?" Jessamy asks.

"No." You look at the door of the house. "If he's here, I want to rescue him as soon as we can. I say we go for it."

"Are you sure?" She asks, uncertainty in her voice.

"I've never been more of anything. We can do this together. Let us go and see what they have done to him."

Jessamy nods and lets you take the lead into the house. You fly down and through the front doors. You find somewhere to land and examine the house.

There aren't that many people inside, it seems. Jesssamy comes up with a plan to start a fire. You watch her fly into the office. She sets the room ablaze. Jessamy rejoins you, and you wait. You follow her gaze to what you assume is the basement door. It's got its own security system. The door opens, and two people come out. Both you and Jessamy instantly fly through it.

The door leads to some dark stairs. You both go in and land on the rungs of the gate inside.

You almost can't believe it.

There he is. Lord Morpheus. He's completely naked and trapped in a class cage. His eyes find yours, and he slowly stands. You feel relief as you see him. You and Jessamy fly over to the glass cage. Morpheus raises his hand to where you fly above him. You would cry if you could.

Jessamy starts tapping into the glass as hard as she can. You realise she's trying to break it. You snap back to reality and join her. Both of you fly into the glass as hard as you can. Dream watches you. If you can break the glass, he can tell you what to do from there.

The sound of a pair of footsteps echoes behind you, and you stop tapping the glass to see a young man with a shotgun. You panic as he aims for Jessamy.

"No!" You gasp. You fly into Jessamy, who loses her balance and tumbles out of the way. The gun goes off.

Dream is left heartbroken at what remains of you. Jessamy gets out of there as fast as she can, leaving her beloved king behind.

There is barely anything left of you on the ground. Morpheus can't tear his eyes away as they fill with tears. There's a deep searing pain in his chest that takes hold of his heart. He kneels down and delicately reaches out as if he could touch your body.

Rodrick orders Alex to dispose of your body, and then he leaves. Morpheus watches as Alex picks up what remains of your body and drops it into a wastepaper bin.

He can't even bury you like you deserve.

Alex looks at Dream and then leaves quietly.

Morpheus curls up in his prison and stares blankly ahead. He won't let his tears fall. Alex Burgess would get what's coming to him. One day.

Morpheus will get his revenge.

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @sitkafay - @snowsatsu - @ladyofketterdam - @thoughtsfromlayla -

#when the raven calls #morpheus x reader #female reader #the sandman #dragon writes

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little-diable · 1 year

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Committed Sins – Priest!Tom Riddle (smut)

This is pure filth. And I'm not sorry for it. Don't copy or edit this to Wattpad or Ao3 please. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Priest Riddle and (y/n) keep on playing the same game over and over again, pwp

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected sex, piv, wrong use of a rosary, spanking, degrading, religious connotations

Pairing: Priest!Tom Riddle x nun!fem!reader (1.5k words)

“Sister (y/n)?” The sharp voice left her tensing, eyes flickering up from the ground to meet Sister Jeany’s dark eyes. The elderly woman stared her down, hand tightening its grip on the wooden rosary dangling from her fingers, a daunting sight that followed (y/n) into her dreams, remembering the first time she had been forced to kneel on the wooden pearls, ripping open her skin as a punishment for sinning. “Priest Riddle is asking for you, God knows what he wants, but you better be on your finest behaviour. The Lord is always watching.”

Slowly (y/n) rose to her feet, gaze averted as she followed Sister Jeany down the hallway, not daring to look at the other nuns, whispering about (y/n). It had been months since she had joined the convent, running away from her hometown, her abusive boyfriend, and her parents that have never cared for her. The convent had taken her in with open arms, at least till the first time they found her smoking a cigarette, punished with cleaning the hallways with a toothbrush and only a glass full of water.

“Look at me.” The elderly woman forced (y/n) to halt, dangerous eyes shooting shudders down her spine. (Y/n) straightened her posture, forced to get lost in the eyes that projected a picture so haunting (y/n) forgot to breathe. “Whatever he asks you to do, you will do, you won’t protest. He is the Lord’s voice on this holy earth, what he asks you to do, is the Lord’s will. Do you understand?”

(Y/n) could only nod her head, teeth leaving marks on her lower lip to bite down her smirk. It wasn’t the first time she had been called to Priest Riddle’s office, lured into the dark room that has seen more sins being committed than the human eye could count. The other nuns had no clue of the things the young priest did to (y/n), how he touched her with wandering hands, how he fucked her on his desk as if God himself was acting through his flesh cage.

“Priest Riddle? (Y/n)’s here.” Sister Jeany’s call was met with a soft “Come in, please”. The woman watched (y/n) step into the room, door being shut in her face with a loud thud. The heavy wood of the door would keep their sounds bottled in, drowned out for curious ears, and nosy minds.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it? Tell me, (y/n), how many sins have you committed in the past week?” The priest wore a sickening smirk on his lips, leaning back in his chair as he watched her stand proud before him. Her wandering fingers moved up her dress, all too familiar with the game he was playing, asking the same questions he’d always ask.

“Four.” He hummed at her reply, eyes focusing on her fingers, watching her pop open the buttons of her dark habit. “I touched myself to the thought of you, in the confessional, moaned your name in the middle of the night, hoping that you’d hear me.”

“You’re walking a thin line, (y/n), soon your luck will run out. And then they’ll all know what a greedy whore you are for your priest's cock.” He rose to his feet as if the Devil himself was rising from hell, boots meeting the ground to walk to her. His cold hands caught hers, ripping them from her habit to undo the last button himself. She was naked beneath the habit, she had hoped that the day would end like this, with her body pressed against his, with her eyes squeezed shut and with her fingernails clawed into his skin.

“For you I’d always sin, one with the call of darkness.” Their lips met in a bruising kiss, forcing a moan to claw through her, arms wrapped around his neck. The priest turned them around, pushing (y/n) against his desk, trapping her with no way out. He had her in his claws, one with the darkness thumping through his veins, a sour emotion that had been etched into his system from his first year on earth, following the Devil’s every command.

She was pushed back against the table top, legs wrapped around the priest’s legs. His hand disappeared in the pocket of his jacket, wrapping his rosary around his fingers before he brought his hand between her naked thighs, guided by her moans. Her eyes met his as she felt the wooden pearls press against her folds, choking on her sob, not used to the unfamiliar sensation.

The priest brushed the pearls through her folds, coated in her arousal, forcing the metal cross to leave imprints on her skin. It was sinful, so sinful, and yet (y/n) couldn’t help but beg for more, needing to be stuffed by him, wanting to feel his fingers disappearing inside her. A heavy “Please” rolled off her tongue, echoing through the room like a prayer spoken by one of the nuns, filled by nothing but the wish to please the Lord in Heaven.

Her trembling frame was pushed even closer towards him, gasping in surprise as she felt two of his fingers being pushing into her, forcing her walls to part. The priest didn’t give her the needed time to adjust, eyes rolling back into her head, trapped in the darkness he had unleashed upon her body. Curses left her, rumbling through his chuckling frame like a prayer both spoke in unison.

“I will fuck you now, remind you who you belong to. Not to Him, but to me, to me only.” A protesting whine left (y/n) as he pulled his fingers from her cunt, forcing her lips to part to lick his digits clean. Their eyes kept holding contact while she moved her tongue, moaning at her taste, urged on by the anticipation flushing through her system. “Turn around.”

It took her a moment to follow the command, rising to her feet with quivering limbs, back turned towards him as she pressed her front against the table top. His hand came in contact with her behind, spanking her without a warning, making (y/n) tighten her hold on the edge of the table. A simple “Count” left the man, hand coming in contact with her skin once again.

Every strike was met with a whimper, fighting against the need to press her thighs together, unable to stop her arousal from dripping down her inner thighs. He found a sick satisfaction in seeing her whimper for him, in leaving his handprint on her skin, clearly marking her as his property, his toy.

Only as a soft “Six” left (y/n) did he let go of her, freeing his hardening cock to give her a few seconds to catch her breath. His cock was brushed through her folds, collecting enough arousal to push into her with ease, coaxing a high pitched moan from her swollen lips. The man fucked her fast, not holding back as his hips snapped against her bruised behind, forcing himself deeper into her tightness with every thrust.

“Christ, you’re so big.” Her words were met with another strike of his hand, murmuring a sharp “Don’t take His name in vain”. Like a sinning woman should be punished, he left her begging for more, something only He’d be able to give her, not one wandering with darkness seeping from every hole of his body.

Her knuckles turned lighter as (y/n) clung to the edge of the table, feeling her walls flutter around him, ready to give in within the first few moments. She was desperate for her release, desperate to let go with the priest’s name leaving her, and with her heart picking up its racing beat.

“Look at you, trembling with my cock buried inside of you, you will burn in hell one day.” It was a foolish threat, he’d burn right next to her, forever tied together by the sins they keep committing together, but (y/n) couldn’t pay his words enough attention, fighting against her arising orgasm. Her walls clenched down on his cock, begging him to give her the final push. With a click of his tongue he tainted her, forcing her to hold on, fucking her faster with groans rumbling through the man of God.

One of his cold hands found its way to her cunt, rubbing her bundle of nerves to give her the final push, choking on his name. He kept snapping his hips, cock buried inside of her till he forced himself to pull himself free, releasing himself on the back of her thighs. With his cum running along her skin, the priest forced her to stand, lips meeting one last time before they redressed.

“Oh, and (y/n),” he called after her, stopping her from leaving his office. “Go and pray, confess to your sins, may he be benevolent with your sinning soul.”

#Tom Riddle smut #priest fic #Tom Riddle imagine

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pennyellee · 10 months

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preview

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, smut, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, yandere, threatening, kidnapping, partial religious behaviour, graphic violence, graphic depictions of torture, manipulation, possessive/obsessive behaviour, angst, implied non-con, minor character death, spanking, blood, gaslighting (more to be added)

word count: 655

author’s note: yaaaaaay!! can't believe I actually made it to post a fanfic I desperately wanted to write for two whole years now. I am very much excited to share this preview from one of the chapters ♥ I'm rising from the dead when it comes to writing fics, so excuse any ridiculous mistake I make, I'll always try to look into it backwards. Lastly a big thank you goes to Bex @chaoticpuff17 who not only inspired me to write but constantly showed me love and support, therefore I would love to express my unending gratitude and admiration, love you baby ♥ lots of love, 𝖕𝖊𝖓𝖓𝖞𝖊𝖑𝖑𝖊

m.list CHAPTER I

“You crave the throne don’t you?” she asked cocking her head and chin defiantly, her narrowed eyes fixed on him. “I want you too.” She chuckled at his response. “I'm merely a convenient excuse, am I not?” Y/N smiled too sweetly. “You’ll kill m—” he rose from his chair, not even letting her finish. Grabbing her by her shoulders in steel grip with a penetrating gaze.

The fragile cup slipped from her trembling hands and shattered on the floor, a nearby maid prepared to clean up the shattered shards. “Leave us!” he barked at the startled girl, his voice filled with anger. Y/N's eyes widened. He was even more aggressive and intimidating than before.

“I could—” his voice seething with fury, “— I could gather man and slaughter your entire clan keeping you as a trophy, a symbol of my power.” The threat hung in the air, and she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. Fear was coursing through her, yet she resisted letting it control her.

“Matter of fact—” he continued, his grip tightening on her shoulders, eliciting a whimper of pain from her, “—you will be a symbol of the magnitude my power has, no matter if your father and family remain alive. So it’s on you. The fate of your kin rests in your hands. Their survival hinges on your decisions and how well you’ll cooperate.” He tightened his grip again, eliciting another whimper of pain from her.

“But I will never dispose of you.” he growled through gritted teeth, his tone a mixture of possessiveness and frustration. Gathering her courage, she managed to speak again, her voice trembling but filled with resolve.

“You cannot manipulate me like this. You think I’ll fall for this fucked up scheme? I have spent my entire life under the orders of others, forbidden from making choices for myself! And you have the audacity to use my innocence thinking I will willingly crawl into your bed and love you like a devoted lover.” Venom in her voice and the desperate tone made fall for her even more.

“I've only recently met you, so spare me your attempts to deceive me that you’re being my saviour.” Y/N has enough fire to still conquer and fight him back. “I refuse to be a passive participant in this game.” She shall not take it lying down.

“I'm giving you a choice—” he asserted, his voice laced with a dangerous undertone “—either you’ll walk down the aisle to me or there will be a bloodshed. I won’t send you back to your father nor will I relinquish you easily.” His eyes locked onto hers, and she could see the darkness consuming his pupils when anger consumed him.

“Call it love, obsession, or whatever you please, but no matter what imbecile attempts you make to fight or flee, we will inevitably end up together nonetheless," he declared with conviction. Was this the fate God had laid out for her? Her faith wavered, and if he didn't provide assistance soon she shall forbid him altogether.

“You just want to fuck m—” he cut her off abruptly, his voice low and seductive.

“I can either fuck you hard or I can make love to you,” said he, whilst setting her left arm free and sliding his to her thigh, caressing it sweetly.

Breathing started to become harder for Y/N. Unfamiliar sensations welled up in her lower belly whilst his touch was sending shivers through her body. Was this attraction? Excitement? Mother told her this is how love is supposed to feel like. Butterflies in her stomach. But she certainly wasn't in love with her captor.

He sensed her confusion and distress. Leaving her fall back to the chair. Finally letting her breathe freely. Yoongi sat back to his chair, collecting himself and his three peace suit he wears today.

“Loss of words, innit?” He chuckled.

coming soon CHAPTER I

©pennyellee. please do not repost

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

taglist: @chaoticpuff17 @honsoolgloss

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nayziiz · 2 months

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Shadows | LN4

Summary: [Mafia] In the face of dire financial troubles, Lando receives a desperate plea from his father to unearth a lucrative solution within the family business. Fueled by the pressure to rescue his family from ruin, Lando stumbles upon a seemingly perfect venture—using luxury cars as a facade for the clandestine world of drug trafficking. With the unexpected partnership of Amelia Rossi, his father's best friend's daughter, Lando believes he has found the ideal accomplice. However, as the Norris family collides with the ambitious Russells in a ruthless bid to establish their dominance, the perilous path Lando has chosen places not only his newfound enterprise at stake but also entangles Amelia in the dangerous crossfire that unfolds.

Warning: Violence, drugs, blood, smut, fluff, guns

Pairing: Lando Norris x OC (Amelia Rossi) - appearances from other drivers

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1

Adam Norris, a man of unwavering intelligence and foresight, possessed a keen mind that proved to be the foundation of his family's success. Drawing wisdom from the teachings of his own father, he meticulously gathered knowledge that transcended generations. Adam's commitment to passing down this invaluable wealth of experience became evident as he shared it with his two sons, Oliver and Lando.

Oliver, the elder of the two brothers, entertained dreams beyond the confines of the family business. His aspirations leaned towards exploration and the creation of a family of his own, seeking a life that danced with the rhythm of distant lands and untold adventures. The allure of faraway places called out to him, shaping his aspirations far differently from the path his father had paved.

On the contrary, Lando demonstrated an early affinity for the intricacies of his father's business. From the tender age of thirteen, he became a silent observer in the boardroom, soaking in the nuances of negotiations and the delicate dance of corporate strategy. Lando's curiosity and natural acumen propelled him to actively engage in the family affairs, gradually transforming him into Adam's confidant and, eventually, his right-hand man.

As Lando navigated through the diverse facets of his father's enterprises, he embraced each challenge with determination and an appetite for learning. The evolution from a teenager attending meetings to a key player in his father's business empire was a testament to Lando's commitment and his father's trust in his capabilities.

The Norris legacy, steeped in generational wisdom and Lando's unwavering dedication, flourished under the guidance of a shrewd patriarch. The father-son duo forged a formidable partnership, where the torch of knowledge burned bright, illuminating the path for the next generation of Norris leaders.

Despite being a pivotal figure in the family business, Lando Norris's impulsive spending habits were a source of concern and consternation. His father, while recognizing the undeniable value Lando brought to the business, couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at the financial whirlwind his son often found himself in.

Adam, pragmatic and stoic, seldom approved of Lando's extravagant expenditures. Yet, a nuanced understanding of his son's behaviour allowed Adam to chalk it up to Lando's yearning for the childhood he never fully embraced. The rationale was a blend of parental leniency and a desire for Lando to experience the joy and spontaneity that he might have missed in his earlier years.

However, the Norris family's financial stability faced a significant setback following a rocky investment. The losses were unforeseeable, and the blame could not be squarely placed on any one individual. The family found themselves at a crossroads, and it became clear that swift and decisive action was required to navigate the tumultuous financial waters.

Adam, burdened by the weight of the situation, turned to Lando, his son with the untamed spirit. Recognizing the need for Lando to step up and take charge, Adam appealed to his son's sense of responsibility and loyalty to the family. The family business, weathering the storm of financial hardship, required a leader capable of navigating through the tumultuous seas and steering it back towards prosperity.

In the hushed atmosphere of Adam's lavishly appointed office, Lando found himself summoned to a covert meeting, the dim lighting casting shadows that danced across the luxurious furnishings. The air was heavy with unspoken tension as Lando took his seat in front of his father's imposing desk.

Adam, a cunning and resolute businessman with a no-nonsense attitude, sat behind the desk, his expression betraying the gravity of the situation. The room, adorned with mahogany accents and opulent artwork, served as the backdrop for an exchange that held the fate of the Norris family legacy in its balance.

In a voice that brooked no argument, Adam presented Lando with a stark ultimatum. The family, once stable and prosperous, now faced the looming spectre of financial turmoil. The weight of responsibility bore down heavily on Adam's shoulders, and with a sense of urgency, he articulated the dire straits they found themselves in.

“The Norris family needs a fresh and lucrative income stream," Adam declared, cutting through the air with precision. "Our legacy is at stake, Lando, and I need you to step up to the plate. If we don't secure our position, we risk our place in society altogether. And, if that happens, you will be exiled from this family.”

Lando, feeling the gravity of his father's words, absorbed the weight of the ultimatum. The notion of being cut off from the family legacy, a legacy he had been groomed to uphold, added an unexpected layer of urgency to the situation. Adam's eyes, seasoned with the trials of the business world, revealed the desperation and determination that drove him to make the demand.

As the conversation unfolded, Lando grappled with the realisation that the Norris family, for all its prestige and outward success, was never above delving into murky waters when it came to ensuring their stability. The unspoken understanding that resonated between father and son transcended ethical boundaries, and Lando became acutely aware of the lengths to which the Norris patriarchs have gone to safeguard their family's prosperity.

In the dimly lit corner of the opulent office, a pact is silently forged. The Norris family's survival hinged on their ability to navigate the shadows, to engage in business practices that might raise eyebrows but were deemed necessary for the preservation of their legacy. The goals, always centred around stability and prosperity, now took on a new dimension as the Norris family braced itself for the challenges that lay ahead.

In the heart of the city's underbelly, hidden behind unmarked doors and guarded secrets, Lando found solace in the dimly lit sanctuary of his secret speakeasy. The air was charged with an aura of secrecy, and the distant hum of jazz music created a backdrop for contemplation as he navigated the labyrinth of decisions laid before him.

Seated in a secluded corner, Lando immersed himself in the speakeasy’s ambiance, surrounded by an eclectic mix of patrons engaged in hushed conversations and conspiratorial exchanges. The flickering candlelight casted dancing shadows on the exposed brick walls, mirroring the intricate thoughts that swirled within Lando's mind.

As he contemplated various ventures that could potentially salvage his family's fortunes, the weight of responsibility pressed heavily on his shoulders. The gravity of his father's ultimatum lingered in the air like an unspoken challenge, demanding a resolution that aligned with the legacy of the Norris family. The choices before him, however, seemed to form an intricate puzzle with no clear solution in sight.

The scent of cigar smoke mingled with the fragrance of aged whiskey, creating an atmosphere that mirrored the complexity of Lando's predicament. The clandestine dealings and veiled conversations around him served as a constant reminder of the high-stakes game he found himself entangled in.

Unable to escape the palpable tension, Lando raised a whiskey glass to his lips, drowning his worries in the amber liquid. Each sip seemed to carry the weight of his familial obligations, momentarily providing a respite from the tumult of conflicting thoughts. The jazz melodies, with their soulful undertones, offered a bittersweet soundtrack to his contemplation, resonating with the complexities of the choices before him.

As Amelia Rossi gracefully drifted through the smoky atmosphere of the speakeasy, the ambient jazz music and muted conversations provide a backdrop to her entrance. Dressed in her business casual attire from work, her clipped hair was loosened, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of chestnut silk. In the dingy ambiance, she became a vision, an ethereal figure transcending the gritty reality of the exclusive establishment.

Lando, ensconced in his thoughts and surrounded by the clandestine energy of the speakeasy, noticed Amelia's arrival. Her presence stood out amidst the shadows and swirling emotions, like a beacon in the midst of obscurity. In that moment, he decided to confide in her, recognizing a familiar face and an old connection that ran deep.

Amelia and Lando shared more than just a friendship; their bond was a testament to a lifelong companionship forged in the crucible of childhood. Born mere months apart, they practically grew up side by side, the echoes of their laughter intermingling with the spirited conversations of their fathers on the golf course. The connection between the Norris and Rossi families transcended mere camaraderie; it was a tapestry woven with shared moments, unspoken understandings, and the promise that their destinies were intertwined.

Amelia's gaze met Lando's in the smoky haze of the speakeasy, and there was a flicker of recognition, a silent acknowledgment of the bond they shared. In her eyes, Lando found a unique comfort that transcended the chaos of the private world he navigated. As the jazz music weaved its spell, Amelia sank into the seat beside him and Lando opened up to her, sharing the weight of his father's ultimatum and the desperate need for a solution to salvage the family legacy.

“I want to export... things.” Lando confessed to Amelia, choosing his words carefully, his gaze intense and laden with the gravity of the proposition. Amelia listened attentively, as she sipped on her gin and tonic, her presence offering a calmness he needed to gather his thoughts and plans.

“Things?” Amelia raised an eyebrow, seeking clarification. Lando leaned in, lowering his voice to match the discreet ambiance of the speakeasy.

“Drugs, or contraband. Stuff people can't get just anywhere.” He clarified.

Amelia's eyes widened with a mixture of surprise and concern. The daring proposition hung in the air, the weight of its implications reverberating between them. Lando, propelled by a sense of urgency, continued to lay out his plan.

“With your help.” He added, his tone a blend of desperation and determination. “Your beautiful cars need owners. And, the owners need what we're offering. We strip the interiors, pack it with whatever substance they require, tidy it all up, and ship the car to them. With your last name, no one will ever think of checking anything except the exterior.”

Amelia absorbed the audacity of the proposal, her mind racing to comprehend the risks and potential rewards. Lando, eyes fixed on hers, did not shy away from the harsh reality of the suggestion. He laid out the intricate web of their venture, weaving a narrative that spoke to the urgency of his situation.

“What's in it for me?” Amelia finally questioned, her business acumen kicking in.

“You'll still make your usual profit by selling the car, and you'll get a 40% cut on whatever we're hiding. Think about the expansion you always dreamt of. Now is your chance to make good on it.” Lando attempted to persuade her.

Amelia, hailing from a well-respected family in London, initially hesitated at the risky proposition. The weight of societal expectations and the scrutiny that would undoubtedly accompany her involvement in such a venture loomed large. However, as Lando painted a vivid picture of the potential rewards and the adrenaline of expanding her luxury car dealership, Amelia found herself intrigued by the allure of the unknown.

“I'll do it.” Amelia finally conceded, her voice a mixture of determination and apprehension.

She understood the enormity of the decision she was making, aware that the venture could lead them into murky territory. Yet, her loyalty to Lando and the unspoken promise of their shared history weighed heavily on her conscience.

Amelia knew that her connection to the prestigious Rossi family held a unique value. It added a layer of legitimacy to their dealings, creating a shield from prying eyes and potential scrutiny. The Rossi name, synonymous with respect and affluence, transformed into a strategic advantage in a venture fraught with risks.

With the decision sealed and a sense of inevitability hanging in the air, Lando, feeling a mix of relief and determination, decided to mark the beginning of their risky venture with a celebratory gesture. He motioned to one of the waitrons in the speakeasy, instructing them to bring a bottle of champagne to their secluded corner.

As the bottle arrived, its cork popped with a celebratory resonance, Lando took charge. He poured a generous serving of the effervescent liquid into two crystal glasses, the golden bubbles catching the dim light of the speakeasy. Lando extended a glass towards Amelia, a symbolic toast to the alliance they had formed.

“To new beginnings.” Lando raised his glass, his eyes meeting Amelia's.

“To new beginnings.” Amelia, still reserved, reciprocated the gesture as she tapped her glass against Lando's in a shared moment of acknowledgement.

As they savoured the crisp taste of the champagne, the speakeasy seemed to hold its breath, the ambient jazz music providing a subtle soundtrack to their clandestine celebration. The air was thick with the weight of their decisions, but for a fleeting moment, the bubbly elixir created a sense of levity, a respite from the complexities of the venture they were to embark upon.

“Finally, I get to work with you.” Lando remarked, a hint of excitement in his voice.

“Don't get too excited.” She responded, a reminder of the challenges that lay ahead and the gravity of the path they've chosen.

As the conversation shifted away from the formality of their risky venture, Amelia, wanting to inject a touch of casualness, playfully leaned against Lando. The dimly lit speakeasy seemed to embrace the casual moment amidst the weighty discussions that preceded.

“How's Zara?” Amelia inquired, steering the conversation towards more personal territory. “Flo told me you brought her home for dinner last week.”

“She's great. She's nice.” Lando's demeanour softened at the mention of Zara.

“Wow, tone down the enthusiasm.” Amelia teased.

“No, she's lovely, but she's just like everyone else - they just want money and status.” A wry smile tugged at Lando's lips.

“Yet you keep her around?” Amelia raised an eyebrow, challenging him with a playful smirk.

“She's a welcome distraction at times.” Lando's response carried a note of self-awareness.

“I see. Why aren't you with her now then, distracting yourself?” Amelia, ever perceptive, didn’t miss a beat.

“Because someone else had what I needed tonight.” Lando's gaze shifted, meeting Amelia's eyes with a hint of vulnerability. “How’s Daniel?”

“Ah, Daniel.” Amelia sighed with a hint of amusement. “That ended a few weeks ago, already. He has too much energy for me to keep up with.”

“Strange for someone who's literally ten years older than you.” Lando chuckled, echoing the sentiment.

“I don’t mind it, but he’s the literal embodiment of a golden retriever. He never stops and sits still.” Amelia grinned, acknowledging the age difference with a playful shrug.

“You love dogs, though.” Lando observed.

“I do. I really do. But when it comes to relationships, I need someone a bit more on the fierce side of things, a bit more-”

“Like you.” Lando interjected, finishing her sentence with a knowing smile.

“Exactly. Someone who can match my pace, challenge me, keep up with the twists and turns. Daniel's great, but in matters of the heart, I need a different kind of energy.” Amelia nodded, a playful glint in her eyes.

Amelia, sat beside Lando in the dimly lit speakeasy, refrained from divulging a recent rendezvous with Charles Leclerc. It was an unusual occurrence for her to keep things from her best friend and closest confidant, but it felt different. She needed to be sure before sharing the details. As Lando continued the conversation, Amelia wrestled with the complexities of her recent experiences.

It wasn't just a casual affair with Charles. Amelia had always been meticulous about keeping her relationships light and transient. However, Charles offered a breath of fresh air after her complete separation from Daniel. Their connection was intense, fueled by a mutual passion for success. Charles, despite the demands of his job, reciprocated Amelia's energy, aligning with her ambitions.

He allowed her to take control, especially in the bedroom, an aspect of intimacy she had always wanted to explore. Charles became a juxtaposition to Daniel's perpetual energy, providing a different kind of excitement that drew Amelia in. Their encounters were more than just physical; they were charged with a shared fervour for life and success.

Despite the allure of her rendezvous with Charles, Amelia refrained from sharing the new chapter of her life with Lando. It was less about hiding, but rather about understanding the dynamics at play. Daniel, a once constant in her life, carried a different weight and expectation. With Charles, it was all about the divergence from her usual patterns, an exploration into uncharted territory.

Despite the excitement that Charles brought into Amelia's life, a lingering sense of unease persisted beneath the surface. As she navigated the nuances of their relationship, an elusive element remained that seemed to elude definition, something amiss that she never could quite put her finger on.

Amelia, a discerning and perceptive individual, grappled with the unspoken doubts that flickered in the corners of her mind. The connection with Charles, though passionate and invigorating, carried a subtle undercurrent of uncertainty. There was no lack of chemistry or shared interests; rather, an intangible aspect that evaded explanation.

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 imagine #formula 1 #lando norris #lando norris fanfic #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #mclaren #mclaren f1 #lando norris x oc #mafia!au #mafia!f1 #f1 #f1 driver x oc

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angelicyoongie · 2 years

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lovesick (VIII)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 10.7k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, kidnapping, mention of drugging, dissociation — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold!

Previous - Next

You wake up to a dull headache pulsing at the back of your skull. Groaning, you push yourself up on one elbow, the world around you spinning as you force your lashes to part. You peer over at your bedside table through bleary eyes, squinting as you try to make out the blurry shapes on top of it. The books you bought months ago and never read are still there, but there’s something sitting slumped over next to them, something you swear wasn’t there yesterday.

Unease spikes in the pit of your stomach as you shift your weight, your normally sturdy bed frame letting out an odd creak as you reach out for it. The rough texture of the worn down wool is unmistakable as you pick it up, Mr. Bear’s well-loved features coming into view as you bring the teddy bear closer to your face. You let out a small excited gasp at the sight of your childhood friend, wincing as the action makes your head throb even more. Clutching Mr. Bear to your chest, you close your eyes for a moment, trying your best to gather your bearings. Something about this doesn’t feel right. Waking up as never left you this horribly disoriented before, this confused. When did you go to bed last night? How did you even get into bed? You can’t remember anything.

You run a finger over Mr. Bear’s back, stilling as the reality slowly begins to seep back in through the cracks in your memory. Mr. Bear has been missing for weeks. You turned your apartment over five times trying to find him, even going as far as rummaging through the building’s trash to make sure you didn’t accidentally throw him out. He was gone. There’s no way he would suddenly just reappear by himself.

You sit up further, eyes still shut as you push your back into the pillows behind you. Everything is wrong. The sheets brushing against your skin are too soft, yours have been washed so much that no amount of fabric softener can save them. The mattress underneath you is thick, but not thick enough to cover the noisy metal springs that squeak whenever you move around. Your bed has never made a noise before – not to mention it’s made of wood. Your room shouldn’t be this bright either, no direct sunlight has ever entered through your bedroom window, the next-door building too tall. You let out a soft whimper as the realization hits you, muffling the sound by pressing Mr. Bear to your mouth.

You’re not at home.

You snap your eyes open, stomach rolling dangerously from how the pounding in your head only worsens with the bright light. You ignore it, frantic eyes bouncing around the room as you try to take it all in. Your white walls and light wooden floors have been replaced with a dark timbre, the material flowing seamlessly from top to bottom of the room. The furniture in the room is sparse, but someone has obviously tried to mimic how your bedroom looks, with how everything is placed nearly identical to how you have it at home. Just like how your books are resting on the bedside table next to you, you find more of your belongings scattered around the room. The hoodie you had thrown carelessly on your desk has been folded neatly on the old table made to replace it. A few of your potted plants have been stolen from your windowsill and placed on a cardboard box in hopes to imitate the position of where they normally would be. This is very clearly not your apartment, but a dingy room made to look like it.

You yank your hand away from your chest, squinting down at Mr. Bear. You didn’t misplace him; he didn’t just disappear – no, someone broke into your apartment to take him, knowing how much he means to you. It probably wasn’t the first time they did it either, not if they know the layout of your room this well.

You whimper, shivers racking your body as you push the sheets away. You have no idea how you ended up here, hell, you have no clue where you even are – but you know it’s not safe. No sane person would try to copy your room in an attempt to, what … soothe you? scare you? Either way, you’d rather not find out.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed, pausing with one foot on the ground as bile suddenly travels up your throat. You know something is wrong with your body, that you probably need to rest to let whatever it is pass through, but you can’t stay here. You press your forehead to the mattress, breathing slow and steady as you try to settle the violent lurches in your stomach.

You do find some minuscule comfort in the fact that you’re still wearing the same clothes as yesterday, the same outfit you had on to meet the guys–

A shuddering gasp passes through your lips, your chest constricting with fear as it all comes rushing back to you at once. The letters, the confessions, the terrifying fact that your stalkers, plural, are also your soulmates. The last thing you remember is feeling woozy, the room spinning in circles as seven figures closed in on you. You can recall being moved, being pressed against something warm, someone arguing about a cabin – about you.

You were drugged. Kidnapped.

Your worst nightmare has come true.

Hot tears spring to your eyes, nails digging into the sheets as you force your shaking arms to push your body up. You bite your cheek, blurry vision locked on to the only source of warmth shining into the room. You have to get to that window. You have to run.

You stagger out of bed, lightheaded, from the effort it takes to keep yourself standing. Your legs are shaking so badly you swear you can hear your bones rattle. You only manage one, two steps, before they give out, and you crumble. You crash to the floor with a loud thud, knees colliding painfully with the cold floor. The impact makes you hiss, a frustrated tear rolling down your cheek from how uncooperative your body is being. You have no doubt that it's the lingering drugs in your system that’s causing you to shut down, your mind so shaken with panic and fear that everything has gone numb.

“Y/n!”

The door flies open, colliding harshly with the wall as as two sets of footsteps rush over to you. You can only stare forlornly down at the floor, your body unresponsive as someone gathers you into their arms.

“Darling, are you okay?” Namjoon’s pinched expression comes into view as he lifts you up. He cradles you carefully to his chest, one arm supporting your back while the other curls under your bruised knees. Your mind is screaming at you to push, fight, do anything at all to get away from his touch, but you can only manage to turn your neck; your heavy head slumping helplessly against his chest.

“What happened?” Yoongi asks, upset, as he steps into view. He tenderly touches your knee, the corner of his mouth sagging as he feels a jolt of pain mirrored in his own legs. Yoongi pulls back when you wince, hands hovering as if he’s holding himself back from checking for further injuries.

“You should place her back on the bed, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi sighs as he realizes you’re not going to give them an answer, your lips pressed into a thin line.

Namjoon nods, turning around. The distance you managed to put between yourself and the bed is so short that he barely needs to take a step before the mattress squeaks under your weight. His face dips close as he gently places you back where you started, dark eyes looking troubled from how limp you felt in his arms. The sudden proximity makes you squeeze your eyes shut, trying your best to hold off the pathetic cries bubbling up your throat.

Namjoon grabs the sheets from the bottom of the bed, pulling them back up to cover your body. The few minutes that have passed since you kicked them off has managed to chill you significantly, the cabin obviously not made to house anyone past the end of summer. Namjoon begins to tuck you in, making sure the sheets are flush to your body so that none of your body heat can escape. You swallow thickly as his hands move along your body above the sheets, the feeling of his fingers following the curve of your hips giving you a burst of nervous energy. The temporary mobility in your limbs allows you to scramble back on the bed until you're flush with the wall. You bring the sheets up to your chest, eyes wide and fearful as you hoarsely whisper, ”Please, don’t.”

The flash of hurt in Namjoon’s eyes is overtaken by concern as you go a little green in the face. You regret speaking as soon as the words leave your mouth, bile rushing up your dry throat. You bring your hand up to your lips, gagging, as you attempt to keep it down. You can’t throw up. You have no idea what will anger them, what will tick them off - but you have faint idea that being vomited on probably won’t work in your favour.

“Are you feeling sick, darling?” Namjoon asks, eyebrows knitting together as he observes how weak you truly look. You give him a slight nod, too scared to open your mouth.

“Hyung, can you find something that’ll help soothe Y/n’s stomach? I’m sure I should have something in my bag.”

Namjoon speaks softly, much like Seokjin did when he was trying not to spook you, as he sinks down on the bed by your curled up legs, eyes never straying from yours. Yoongi lets out an affirmative noise at the request, shooting you another worried look before he leaves the room to grab what Namjoon asked for.

“I’m sorry you feel bad, darling, it appears that Hoseok gave you a bit of a higher dose than he was supposed to.” There’s a bite to Namjoon’s voice as he utters Hoseok’s name, nostrils flaring with agitation at your current condition. You hug your legs tighter to your body, shrinking under Namjoon’s gaze even though you’re aware his anger isn’t directed at you. You just have to make yourself small, small, small, just enough to survive until you feel more in control of your body.

Namjoon looks away, jaw tensing as he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He looks decidedly less put together compared to the first time you saw him, hair mussed and glasses nowhere to be found. He rubs the bridge of his nose, collecting himself for a moment before he turns his attention back to you, the displeasure erased from his features. Namjoon scoots closer, ignoring how you flinch away from his touch as he reaches out to run his thumb along the dark circles underneath your eyes. His fingers are warm, almost soothing, as he maps out the delicate skin.

“Darling, you look exhausted.” Namjoon tuts. ”Have you not been taking proper care of yourself lately? What did you doctor say during your check-up?”

You bite your tongue, resisting the urge to scoff at his misplaced concern. You temper your voice, all too aware of your predicament as you grit out a quiet, ”You know why I’m tired – I haven’t been sleeping properly for months because I’ve had seven people stalking me. It’s not exactly a good situation to be in. There’s no need for me to see a doctor, so I never went.”

Namjoon pauses, sitting unnervingly still for a second as he seems to process what you told him. He slowly nods, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek before he removes his hand, letting it drop back into his lap.

“Darling–” Namjoon sounds so disappointed it makes your stomach do another dangerous lurch.

“Y/n. You have to look after yourself. I know things haven’t been … easy, lately, but that doesn’t excuse disregarding your own health and wellbeing. You’re too precious for that. I wanted to give you a chance to do it yourself, but since you don’t seem to understand the importance of it right now, I’ll take over until you’re feeling better. Don’t you worry, darling, I’ll take good care of you.”

Don’t worry? How can you not worry when the person offering, no, demanding to look after you like you’re a child, is the same man who has been stalking you for almost a year?

Your breath is knocked out of your chest as another intense wave of anxiety and distress crashes over you. There’s a faint ringing in your ears, your headache pulsing at the bottom of your skull. It’s too much, your vision growing dark at the edges, and then–

You release a shuddering breath; the raging waves suddenly turning quiet, calm. You stare at Namjoon in slight disbelief, blinking, as you find that the only emotion you can muster up is, well, nothing. You clutch the sheets tighter to your chest, knowing you should be alarmed at the numbness that has settled in your body, but there’s nothing there. You can see Namjoon in front of you, feel the lingering warmth of his touch on your skin, but it’s like your mind has momentarily checked out, like you’re experiencing everything through someone else.

Though, even with your emotions temporarily unavailable, you’re still aware of the fact that you need to thread carefully with what you say. You don’t want to anger Namjoon by going against his demands, but you refuse to agree to them. Your best bet is to try to divert the conversation while hopefully still getting something useful out of it.

You press yourself closer to the wall, avoiding Namjoon’s gaze as you weakly say, ”How did you even get access to my doctor? Shouldn’t that be confidential?”

“Oh, that! My position at the library gives me access to the city’s archive.” Namjoon proudly explains, his chest puffing out.

”You used your full name and date of birth when you signed up for a library card, and that’s really all you need to pull up someone’s file. The archive contains your basic information like your address, family relations, and any healthcare clinics you might be connected to, and so on. It had all the details I needed in order to look out for you.”

What the fuck? How is that safe?

You can see Namjoon’s smile falter out of the corner of your eye, the same realization dawning on him simultaneously. ”Come to think of it, it was a little too easy to access it as long as you’re employed by the city. That won’t do, who knows what kind of person will take advantage of your information being so readily available? I should really give them a call to get them to update their protocols.” Namjoon mutters something else under his breath, something about security and Taehyung that you can’t quite make out.

You look over to the window on the opposite side of the room, the trees here having yet to change their colours and shed their coats. The deep green leaves moving in and out of view leave a sour taste in your mouth, the color all too reminiscent of the letters Namjoon has been plaguing you with. And as you’ve recently come to learn, you haven’t been only one receiving them.

“Right.” You swallow, throat dry. “Is that how you found my family?”

Namjoon brightens at the mention of your parents. ”Did your mom like the flowers I sent? I made sure to get her favourites!” The way he wrings his hands together in his lap almost strikes you as shyness, like he’s genuinely worried that she might not.

She did like them, but you’re not going to give Namjoon the satisfaction of knowing that. In fact, cruel as it might sound, you hope the uncertainty will eat away at him whenever he thinks about it. After everything they’ve put you through, they deserve to suffer in any way they can, no matter how miniscule.

Namjoon’s hopeful expression crumbles when you remain silent, a soft sigh leaving his lips. ”Y/n. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but everything I know about your parents is information they have posted themselves. You know your mother has a very strong social media presence; she treats her account like a diary. She posted about her promotion and how much she’s been missing you. I thought it would make you happy that your mom felt loved and seen by you with a congratulatory bouquet. You haven’t been home in months, darling. I don’t want you to lose your relationship with your parents.”

You don’t want that either. You never wanted to shut out your parents from your life. Namjoon and the others decided that for you, and yet he has the nerve to act concerned? You only did it to keep them safe, alive, in fear of never knowing what your stalker was capable of doing. Despite your groggy memories you can clearly remember how easily Hoseok admitted to being willing to murder someone to get his way. You did the right thing. Not knowing what they’ve been up to has been slowly crushing you, and now, you have no idea when you’ll get to talk to them again.

The hollow feeling in your chest cracks, just enough for a small trickle of self-pity and sadness to fill the space around your heart. The first tear slips down your cheek before you’re even fully aware that you’re crying.

Namjoon makes a shocked noise, shuffling closer on the bed as you sniffle. ”Darling, don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you upset. I promise I’ll take care of everything.”

He reaches out for you, hands cupped as if he’s going to caress your cheeks and wipe away the tears before they can fall. You jerk back so hard you see stars as your head smacks into the wall behind you, hands shooting out to stop Namjoon from getting any closer. ”Don’t touch me.” You hiccup, vision blurry as it burns with more tears.

Namjoon’s movements stutter from the unexpected flare of pain, hesitant eyes growing even more worried. You can tell he’s struggling to abide, fingers flexing like it’s paining him to hold back from checking up on you. You slowly bring your arms back to your chest as he leans back. Namjoon’s shoulders are hunched as he looks down at his hands, lips twisted into something sad.

You quickly wipe your tears as the half-shut door creaks back open, watching Yoongi cautiously as he returns with a small tray in his hands. He pauses by Namjoon’s side, eyes flickering between your red-rimmed eyes and the heartbroken expression on his friend’s face. He lets out a soft sigh, grabbing the cup he was carrying before handing the tray over to Namjoon.

”I found the medicinal herb you were talking about. It was really thoughtful of you to bring it, Namjoon-ah, I’m sure Y/n will feel better once she drinks it. Why don’t you go out and help Jimin for a bit, hm?”

“Sure, hyung.” Namjoon says, conflicted eyes gliding back to your small form before he pushes himself off the bed. Yoongi gives Namjoon's hand a comforting squeeze before he exits the room, closing the door behind him.

Yoongi places the cup on the small table besides your bed, taking care to move your books out of the way. You eye the murky drink warily, not quite managing to suppress your scoff as you say, ”I’m not going to drink that.”

Yoongi’s feline eyes watch you intently for a moment. He hums as he picks the cup back up, blowing on the surface to cool it down before he takes a sip. You can see his throat bob as he swallows the tea, lips glossy as he lowers it from his mouth. ”See, there’s nothing wrong with it.”

You grimace as your queasy stomach acts up just as you’re about to refuse the drink, eyes fluttering with discomfort. Yoongi takes the chance to quickly manoeuvre the cup into your hands before you can tell him off, the warm porcelain a welcome source of heat in the otherwise chilly room.

You tense, unprepared, as Yoongi lightly pats your hair, slender fingers gliding back to cup the back of your head. There’s a brief pressure where you hit your head but the touch is gone before you can shake him off. Yoongi pulls back, seemingly satisfied that you’re not really hurt aside from the initial flash of pain.

“Everything will be alright once you start feeling better, love. You’re safe here with us.” Yoongi promises.

You shake your head, staring down at the small bits of leaves and spices floating around in your tea. Every nerve in your body is screaming at you to be careful, but what’s the use if they’ve never going to let you go? If they’re going to keep you trapped here for the foreseeable future, then you might as well make sure they know how upset and angry you are with them. Even if they hurt you, you can always find some wicked sense of comfort in the fact that they’ll hurt themselves in the process as well.

“I don’t know you. I don’t want to be here. All of you have lied to me for weeks, months. There’s nothing real about this … relationship.” You bite.

“That’s not true, Y/n.” Yoongi protests.

You glance up at him, levelling him with a cold glare. "Do you even work as an accountant?”

Yoongi opens his mouth, thinks, and then closes it again. He looks around the room, the grain in the wood above your head suddenly very interesting as he avoids you gaze. Yoongi awkwardly scratches his neck, fluffing up the hair there before he eventually admits, ”No, I do not.”

“I work as a producer, actually. That’s why I’ve been sending you lyrics – I’ve always been better at conveying my feelings through music. My studio is close to Filter, that’s how we ended up at the shop the day we realized you’re our soulmate. I wanted to tell you my real job when we met at the park, but Taehyung said it was too obvious. That you might suspect us too soon.”

Speak of the devil, and he’ll open the door.

Taehyung peeks into the room, slipping in through the open crack with a sheepish smile. You wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been standing outside the whole time, just waiting for the perfect time to announce his presence. You clutch the cup closer to your body as Taehyung strides up to your bed, the images of blood drenched roses and serial killer-esque postcards flashing through your mind. You’ve learned through the past year that Taehyung has a short fuse, and when you disobey him, it gets messy.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at Taehyung’s impatience, stepping aside to give the younger more room.

Taehyung takes a seat by your side, taking up the same spot Namjoon left vacant.

His shoulders slump as he sees the tenseness in your muscles, how you can barely look him in the eye as he tries to seek out your gaze. ”Why are you scared, babe? I’m not going to hurt you.”

“You gave me a bucket of blood, I’m sorry if that’s a bit hard to believe.” You whimper.

You flinch back, regretting your words as Taehyung suddenly raises his hand. Your eyes are halfway shut, preparing for impact, when you realize his intention was only to ruffle his fingers through his long bangs.Taehyung’s expression fills with hurt as he takes in the way you try to cower away from him. He looks like a kicked puppy when he connects the dots, his face somehow reminiscent of Yeontan as he curls in on himself. You swallow thickly, the tension in the room closing in on you the longer all of you stay silent.

You take a sip of the tea in your hands, mustering up all the courage you have as you tentatively try to steer the conversation elsewhere. ”That day in the park, it wasn’t a coincidence, was it?”

Taehyung shakes his head, hands folded in his lap. ”Tannie is too well-trained to run off on his own. We wanted an excuse to finally meet you, talk to you, and no one can resist a cute puppy.”

“How did you know I would be there?” You’re honestly a little afraid to ask. You feel like the last bubbles of your imagined safety are going to pop the moment Taehyung opens his mouth.

Taehyung shares a look with Yoongi, the elder giving him a half-hearted shrug. Taehyung rubs his face, voice muffled behind his hand as he says, ”We knew you would be there because you called your friend Heejun during your lunch break.”

Unwanted memories of the last postcard you received spring forth in your mind. How the pictures Taehyung used were from your hidden folders, how no one except for you should’ve had access to them. How Taehyung admittedto working in tech the day you first met face to face. You don’t think he lied to you; he never had a reason to.

“Did you hack my phone?”

Taehyung tilts his head, giving you a faint, apologetic smile. ”I prefer to say that I tapped your phone.”

You take a deep breath, the confession rattling your lungs. Your voice is faint to your own ears as you murmur, “How long?”

“It’s been a while. Ten months to be exact.”

In other words, almost the entire time he’s been stalking you. You shudder to think what he’s seen, what he couldhave seen – but most of all; there’s just something so violating knowing that Taehyung has been keeping tabs of everything. Every text, every call.. He must’ve known where you were at almost any given moment. You’ve truly been in more danger this past year than you could’ve ever imagined.

Yoongi rolls his shoulders, the corner of his mouth pinched as he turns to walk over to the grimy window. He doesn’t seem particularly happy with Taehyung’s admission. You watch his profile as he studies the trees through the glass, how his dark hair curls gently along the curve of his cheek. You get that nagging feeling again, the same one that bothered you the first time you met. You’ve seen him somewhere that wasn’t Filter, somewhere where the streetlights never illuminated his features as well as the soft sunlight does now.

Oh.

The park.

The man and the dog.

It must’ve been Yoongi and Yeontan all along. It’s no wonder he felt familiar when you first met, not when you’ve seen him countless times in the same park after almost every Thursday class. You never really took the time to study them, too eager to get away from the dark trees and back home to the safety of your apartment, but you knowit’s them. It must be. That’s how Taehyung figured out where you wanted to travel before he tapped your phone, because Yoongi was always close by, walking along the same path overhearing you talk to Heejun. And when Taehyung hacked your phone, he could let Yoongi know about your whereabouts so he could leave his letters and gifts at your doorstep unnoticed. A perfect collaboration between two insane soulmates.

“I only did it to keep track of you, to make sure you were safe.” Taehyung’s deep voice fills with annoyance as he notices where your attention has strayed, how you’re still pressing yourself against the wall despite his reassurance that he won’t hurt you.

There’s a hard glint in Taehyung’s eyes as your gaze snaps back to him, his whole form screaming frustration as he looks you over.

“If we knew what you were up to, it would be easier to intervene if you tried to do something silly. We just wanted to make sure you didn’t waste your time on someone undeserving.”

You shiver, pulling your sheets tighter around your body. You don’t think you want to know what ‘something silly’ is, the implication is more than enough.

“If you knew I was your soulmate, why not just reach out to me? Why do all of this?” You gesture weakly in the air.

Yoongi clears his throat, shoving his hands into the pocket of his thick hoodie as he turns around to look at you and Taehyung. ”We wanted to figure out the best way to break it to you that you have two soulmates without overwhelming you. It seemed logic at the time because we felt overwhelmed ourselves, but then it got a bit … out of control.”

That’s one way to put it.

Your mind is swimming with what ifs – all the possible different scenarios of what could have played out over the last year making you sick to your stomach. They could’ve taken you sooner. They could’ve hurt someone because of you. If they had approached you normally you could’ve loved them by now–

You chug the rest of your tea, your mind and heart too exhausted to deal with the emotional turmoil coursing through your body. You need to think, to process the little information you’ve been offered so far, and how you can use it. You need to be alone.

“Can you please leave me for a bit? I’m really not feeling well. I think I need more sleep.” You really don’t need to force any conviction into your voice; you know you must look like pure shit just from how terrible you feel.

“Of course.” Yoongi nods, agreeing immediately. He walks over to your bed, a firm hand landing on Taehyung’s shoulder to get the younger man to move.

Taehyung clenches his jaw; the spot between his eyebrows furrowed as he once again looks like he’s going to see through you if he only tries hard enough. With another firm squeeze from Yoongi, Taehyung finally relents, rising to his feet. He keeps his dark eyes locked on yours as he leans in, nimble fingers reaching out to take the empty cup from your hands. You freeze as Taehyung suddenly jerks forward, fast enough that you can’t move away before you feel a set of lips pressed to your the top of your head. You suck in a startled breath, heart hammering wildly in your chest, as Yoongi drags a grinning Taehyung back, ushering him out of the room with a string of low curses.

Once the door clicks shut and the room falls silent, you reach up to the burning spot on your head, rubbing it furiously to get rid of any trace of Taehyung. You sink down in bed, the loud creaks bringing forward another round of unwanted tears. You’re just so fucking tired. You hate this. Hate them.

You pull the sheets over your head, blocking out any light as you try to regulate your breathing. You just need a short nap, just to get the rest of the drugs out of your system, and then you can figure out a way to escape afterwards. You need a plan, and you can’t trust your woozy head to make one up that will actually get you out of here. You curl up into a ball, fingers drifting back to your hair. You hate them. And what you hate even more is how the only image you can conjure, is Taehyung kissing Yeontan in the exact same spot.

Like you’re a little pet that needs consoling.

You grunt, your arms burning with effort as you try your hardest to push the window up. You don’t know how much time has passed since Yoongi and Taehyung left you alone, but it’s enough that the sun has begun to sink through the trees. Adjusting your grip, you try again, fingers aching with how hard you’re holding on to the small ledge; but the rickety old window refuses to budge. The old shoddy paint job around the window trim has likely sealed it shut, effectively stopping it from being opened.

You let go, resting your head against the cool glass to catch your breath. Smashing the window is out of the question. They’ll bust into the room before you’ll even get the chance to clear away enough glass to get through.

Sighing, you plaster yourself against the window, hoping the added inch of sight will show you something that isn’t just trees. There’s nothing around here to give you any sort of indication of where you might be. The only thing you can see is dying grass and a mixture of pine and oak trees. No roads, no lights, no people, nothing. Defeated, you turn around, letting your gaze sweep across the room for anything that might help you get out. Besides the furniture, the only heavy items in the room are your books and potted plants, and you doubt whacking them over the head with one of those will get you very far.

Something creaks.

You tense, holding your breath, as someone moves closer to your door. They haven’t bothered you since this morning, only opening the door every now and then to check in on you. You’ve been pretending to sleep for most of the day, desperately trying to buy yourself some time to think - to plan. The only luck you think you’ve had in this situation so far is the attached bathroom. It’s old, like everything else, but it has running water and you’re not being forced to pee in a bucket. And best of all, it means you don’t have to leave the room and risk facing any of them.

But, it seems like the tiny sliver of luck you had is running out. There’s another creak, directly outside of your door this time. Your eyes dart between the door and the bed, heart hammering in your chest at the knowledge that you won’t be able to make it back in bed in time. You’re frozen to the ground, body unable to move as you stare the door handle down, begging whatever out there that will listen for it not to move. You wait, your lungs burning with the need to expand. Just as you’re beginning to feel lightheaded, the person outside your door decides to walk away, the sound of their footsteps growing fainter as they disappear to somewhere else in the cabin.

Collapsing against the window, you place your hand over your heart as you try to regulate your breathing. ”Fuck.” You mutter weakly under your breath. You don’t think you’ll be able to survive another day of feeling like you’re constantly halfway to a heart attack.

Just as you’re about to push away from the window, feeling too paranoid that they might come running back, you hear a low sound that makes your ears perk up. It’s the steady rumble of a car engine coming closer. The quiet forest seems to come alive with the sound and a newfound hope blooms in your chest as you realize that this is your ticket out. You’ll either find the keys for the car and take off, or use the road as a guide to get back to the city by foot. You have no clue how far away you really are but you’ll take walking for three days straight over staying here another day. Is it a little reckless? Absolutely. But you’re willing to risk it if it means you’ll even have the tiniest chance of getting away.

You slowly make your way back to bed, hugging your arms close to your torso as you stare out at the burning sky. You just have to wait for it to get dark, for them to fall asleep, and then you’ll run.

You wince, biting back a curse as the door lets out a small squeak into the dead silent cabin. With no clock anywhere in your vicinity, you were left to count every minute that passed after the last light outside your door turned off. You gave yourself 90 minutes on the dot, just enough to ensure that everyone should be asleep.

You slowly poke your head out of the crack in the door, the blanket of darkness in front of you making it near impossible to differentiate between what's furniture and what’s just the structure of the cabin. You would think laying awake for so long would’ve made your eyes adjust better, but being out in the woods with not even the moon offering some help, is like stepping into another world. You take a tentative step out of your room, hands outstretched to keep yourself from bumping into anything. You have no idea where you’re going to find a pair of keys under these conditions, but maybe they were careless enough to leave them near the door? If not, you’re just going to have to book it and hope for the best.

From the little you can make out though, it looks like your room is at the beginning of a hallway, more doors filling the walls to your left. Taking only a step in the opposite direction leads you into a large open space, probably the living room, with what you can only assume is the front door on the other side. There’s something that must be a fireplace taking up the majority of one of the walls in the room. You can vaguely make out a cluster of shapes in a half-moon formation in front of it, likely a collection of couches and armchairs based on the different heights.

The dark open space in front of your makes you shudder, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The alarm bells in your head are screaming danger – that you have no idea what might be waiting for you in the shadows. But, even then, you know deep down that there’s nothing more dangerous than staying here. That no monsters lurking in the woods could ever be as bad as the ones under this roof.

You steel yourself, letting out a soft huff of air into the quiet cabin. You slowly move your sock-clad feet across the floor, placing one foot carefully in front of the other, hands sweeping back and forth to make sure you won’t trip over any stray pieces of furniture. Your eyes roam blindly over the open space, jumping from shadow to shadow, your brain unhelpfully trying to convince you that something is always moving just out of the corner of your eye. Your depth perception isn’t great, but you think you must be close to halfway through the room when you finally touch the raised back of one of the couches. You grip the worn material tightly, grounding yourself in the coarse feel of it. You slide your hand forward, using it as a guide to make sure you’re at least moving straight forward. Feeling like you’re close to getting away makes you get a little brave, a little excited, and that’s why you remember a little too late that the floor here creaks.

The wooden plank underneath your foot groans loudly, the protest sounding like thunder in the silence. You stumble back, the offending foot raised in the air as your heart plummets to your stomach. Lights flood your eyes before you can even think to book it for the door. You squeeze them shut, wincing, as it momentarily blinds you. You turn your head in the direction of the light, eyes flying back open as someone clears their throat.

Jimin.

He’s sitting in one of the large armchairs, one leg crossed over the other, fist resting against his cheek. He quirks an eyebrow as he catches your gaze, face void of any emotion as he says, ”Baby, what are you doing?”

You dig your fingers into the couch to keep yourself standing, legs shaking with fear as Jimin leans forward in his seat, clearly waiting for an answer. You had no idea he was there. He must’ve been so swallowed up by the shadows that you couldn’t even make out his form against the chair, like a perfect predator waiting for its prey to just walk right into their trap.

You swallow thickly. Telling the truth is out of the question. There’s no way it’s going to end well for you if you admit to trying to escape.

“I’m hungry. I just wanted to find some food.” You lie, voice quivering in a way you hope sounds pitiful and not guilty.

Jimin doesn’t quite buy it, you can tell.

“Really? That doesn’t seem like the right direction to the fridge, Y/n.” He lazily gestures in the direction of the front door, tilting his head as if he’s sizing you up.

Play it cool, you remind yourself, your escape route slipping out of sight as you turn your body fully to face Jimin. Play it dumb.

“I don’t know where anything is.” You pout softly. ”It was dark and I didn’t want to disturb anyone this late. I was just going to grab something and go back to my room. My stomach is feeling really queasy.” You gently rub your belly for added effect, hoping that indirectly mentioning the drugs will make Jimin soften up at bit.

Jimin watches you for a moment, calculating, searching, before his eyes drift behind you into the dark hallway. ”Seokjin hyung!”

He doesn’t believe you. He called Seokjin for backup and they’re going to punish you for trying to run away. They’re going to hurt you–

You suck in a broken breath as a door somewhere behind you open and closes, hurried footsteps coming closer to your turned back. Someone lets out a light gasp, and a smirk catches on Jimin’s mouth just as a pair of hands spin your around.

You come face to face with Seokjin, his expression thrilled as his fingers drift from your shoulders to your face. He cups your cheeks, keeping you rooted in place as his worried eyes roam over your features. ”You’re finally awake! My poor Y/n, you look so tired. Look at what those drugs–” He cuts himself off with a huff.

Seokjin runs his thumbs over the fullness of your cheeks, tutting at the dark circles under your eyes. "How are you feeling, angel?”

Your hands shake by your sides, unsure of how you should proceed. Does Seokjin know you tried to run? Is he just acting nice to make you lower your guard?

You hear the chair shift as Jimin stands. ”Y/n is hungry, hyung. You helped Namjoon out with making that miso soup earlier, right? Maybe you should heat that up for her.”

“Of course we’ll get you some food, angel. Come along.” Seokjin brightens up, releasing your face in favour of grabbing your hand. Your stomach turns at the contact, but you know better than to fight it as he begins leading you to another wing of the cabin. You’re too afraid to let your gaze drift, all too aware of Jimin’s presence right behind you. It doesn’t take a genius to know that it’s a threat, a silent reminder that it’s futile to try to run.

Seokjin keeps a firm grip on your hand as he brings you into the kitchen. You’re surprised to find that it has a decent size, much bigger than you were expecting. Though, judging by the random pieces of old police paraphernalia decorating the walls, you suppose the cabin has to be this big if it needs to house an entire station of officers every summer.

You end up seated by the table in the middle of the room, sitting stiffly in the chair as Seokjin putters around the kitchen. Jimin is leaning against the doorframe; one ankle resting over the other as he shamelessly watches you. You suppose there is some truth in the lie you told Jimin, your stomach twisting sharply as the earthy smell of the heating soup begins to fill the kitchen. You are hungry, but you have no idea how you’re going to eat anything when it feels like your heart is trying to beat its way out of your throat.

“Here you go, angel.” Seokjin places a steaming bowl of soup in front of you. He gently curls your fingers around the spoon he places in your hand, his face expectant as he waits by your side. ”Remember to blow on it, it’s hot.”

You heed Seokjin’s warning, gently blowing on the broth in your spoon before you drink it. You hate that your first thought is that it’s tasty. You quickly take another sip, choosing to blame the deliciousness on your ravenous stomach rather than entertaining the possibility that the soup might just be that good.

Though, even as you slowly work your way through the steaming bowl, you’re very aware that there’s a chance the soup might have been tampered with. You don’t think Seokjin would do it, he didn’t seem very pleased with Hoseok’s decision, but it’s a risk you’ll have to take. You won’t get far without any kind of sustenance in your body, so if you’re going to have even the slightest chance or getting away, you need to eat.

The sound of thundering footsteps startles you; almost making you drop your spoon as Jungkook and Namjoon come barrelling into the room. They skid to a stop by Jimin’s side, both of them wide-eyed as they find you sitting so casually at the table. You feel yourself clamming up even more under the additional sets of eyes, the soup in your mouth dragging down your throat like molasses as you swallow the last mouthful. Jungkook at least has the decency to look ashamed; gaze adverted to the ground in what you can only hope is regret. You’ve had no time to really think about what has happened yet, too caught up in planning your escape, but seeing him stings. Out of all of them, you were closest to Jungkook – hell, you even considered him a friend, and so the betrayal runs a little deeper with him, hurts a little more.

Namjoon steps closer, his surprise bleeding into elation as he realizes what you’re eating. ”Was the soup good, darling? I asked hyung for help to make sure it would be edible. I didn’t want to upset your stomach even more with my poor cooking.”

You stare down at your empty bowl, bobbing your head. You know there’s no point in pretending it wasn’t, not when you’ve practically licked the bowl clean.

“Great!” Seokjin chirps. Your shoulders fly up to your ears as he smoothes his hand over your hair in a quick motion.

Seokjin grabs your empty bowl like nothing happened, walking back over to the stove to refill it. ”You had us all so worried, angel. You were knocked out for over a day in such deep sleep that we were anxious you were going to become our own Sleeping Beauty.”

Your breath hitches. You’ve been here for two days already? That can’t be right. There’s no way your body would allow itself to relax like that, not with them around.

You watch Seokjin’s back as he ladles more soup into your bowl, making sure he doesn’t reach out to add anything else to it. Seokjin sighs, something mournful in his voice as he says, ”You must’ve been so overwhelmed, you poor thing. You probably needed the extra rest. I’m sure the past days haven’t been easy on you.”

Your heart nearly gives out as Seokjin turns to walk back to the table, your attention returning to the rest of the room as he places the new serving in front of you. You were so focused on him that you didn’t even notice the three remaining men of the group soundlessly entering the kitchen, the three extra pairs of eyes raising the hair on your body.

“We thought we heard someone talking.” Hoseok says.

You flinch at the sound of his voice, fingers trembling in your lap as it once again hits you with full force that he drugged you. You dig your heels into the floor to keep yourself seated as Hoseok and Yoongi each find their own chairs on the other side of the table, resisting the urge to run away as far as you can. Taehyung stays at Jimin’s side by the doorway, curling an arm around his waist as he hooks his chin over Jimin’s shoulder.

“We should take a moment to talk actually, now that Y/n is awake.” Namjoon gestures for Jungkook and Seokjin to take a seat, the three of them occupying the last available chairs around the table. He glances over at Jimin and Taehyung, but the blonde gives him a small shake of his head, indicating that they’re both comfortable where they are.

“Darling,” Namjoon clears his throat. ”Like Seokjin hyung mentioned, you were sleeping for a long time. It gave us some time to look into our soulbond. We obviously need a lot more time to research and come to a final conclusion, but we think we might have an idea of what’s going on.”

“We always felt like we found each other by fate, like how Jimin stumbled over Jungkook that night, and how Yoongi and Taehyung were randomly assigned as roommates during hyung’s last year at university. We’ve even had a running joke that we’re platonic soulmates since our soulmarks didn’t match up.”

There are a few low chuckles at that, the seven men exchanging fond looks across the room. While there’s not a single bone in your body that finds any of this amusing, there’s still a tiny part of you that’s curious about what they might have found.

“Go on,” You murmur, stirring your soup, when Namjoon silence suggests that he wants your approval before he continues.

Namjoon straightens in his seat, eyes sparkling with excitement as he animatedly says, ”But you know, maybe it actually was fate that lead us together. I found an excerpt from an old and obscure book online that discusses highly unusual cases of soulbonds and soulmates. It’s almost a hundred years old, so I’m not sure how well it can be trusted, but it describes different cases of multiple soulmates where only one person is the nucleus of the bond. You know how there’s a chance that one soulmate might feel the bond more intensely than the other? That their connection isn’t equal? That applies to this, us, as well. We’ve been talking, and we believe that you, darling, is the nucleus of our bond and that’s why you don’t feel it as strongly as we do. You have a soulbond that’s stretched in seven directions – while we are only connected to you alone. Maybe that’s why we found each other, because we could feel our connection through our bonds with you.”

You slump in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek as you think. You don’t think Namjoon is lying. It all sounds plausible. You’ve seen the reports of unbalanced bonds yourself, where two or three soulmates don’t all feel the bond as strongly. Much like the nature of your own soulbond, you always thought of it as cruel. You suppose it boils down to chance, just like anything else. Some people get sick, some don’t. Some people have unbalanced soulbonds, while others do not. And some, like yourself, have the worst luck in the entire world, with stalkers for soulmates and bonds that apparently are completely fucked.

“Tell her about the last part you found as well, Namjoon-ah.” Yoongi encourages softly, mindful of the troubled expression on your face.

“Right,” Namjoon takes a deep breath, folding his hands on top of the table as he leans closer.

”Bonds like ours are very rare, so rare in fact, that there’s only been a handful of documented cases through the last three hundred years. It seems that they often bring in some, uhm, unwanted attention, so I suspect there might be more out there that simply haven’t registered themselves in fear of being detained and experimented on. But, while the general consensus might not look too kindly on our bond now, it used to be seen as something special, something amazing. There are quite a few old cultures that have fables about bonds like ours, Y/n, about how the soulmates were cosmically connected to each other through past lives and reincarnation. Some even regarded our bond as heavenly – godly.”

Heavenly? Godly? That’s not exactly the words you would use to describe this past year. You figured something had to be wrong when you felt pain from all seven of them in Hoseok’s shop, but you never would have thought your bond could be this messed up. You truly feel at a loss for words, your thoughts and emotions roaring so loudly inside your head you have no idea where to even begin to process this.

“I think it makes just as much sense as anything else. Well, the nucleus part, I’m not so sure I believe in reincarnation.” Hoseok says, grinning, as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Jimin snorts at Hoseok’s tone, but there’s something in the way he looks at you, something intense enough to make you wonder if he actually does believe in what Namjoon talked about.

"Taehyung-ah, do you want to tell us about your theory? It doesn’t sound as far-fetched now that past lives might be on the table as well.” Yoongi throws Taehyung a look over his shoulder, eyebrows quirking as he meets his roommate’s eyes.

“Ah,” Taehyung curls himself tighter around Jimin, cheeks turning rosy. ”I watched this movie over a year ago, Letters in Time, that’s about two soulmates. The man figures it out before the woman does, so he tries to woo her with letters, one color for every day, to win her love before he reveals himself. And it works! I just thought it was really romantic and I couldn’t stop thinking about it for weeks afterwards.”

“I think I might know the lines by heart with how often he watched it.” Yoongi groans.

“As I was saying–” Taehyung grumbles, ”I think, maybe, that I might have affected all of us? Even if our link is weak, it’s still there and if I felt strongly enough about it, maybe I accidentally influenced the whole group to write letters? I convinced Yoongi hyung to do it because we both knew about Y/n, but how can you explain how all of you suddenly started doing the same thing?”

A blanket of silence falls over the table as everyone gets lost in their thoughts.

“I … I don’t know why I started writing them.” Seokjin says, his brows furrowed. ”Letters have never really been my style.”

“I just woke up one day and it felt like the right thing to do.” Jimin adds with a shrug, jostling Taehyung with the action. You’re surprised at how easily Jimin accepts it when the rest at least seem to be somewhat shocked by Taehyung’s theory, but perhaps it isn’t all that crazy to him if he already believes in cosmic connections.

“Interesting.” Namjoon mutters under his breath. ”We have to look more into it of course, to see if there’s any documented cases of something like this happening between soulmates but I think you might be on to something, Taehyung.”

“What do you think, Y/n?” Jungkook’s soft voice barely carries across the table. His dark eyes flicker up to meet yours, hardly holding your gaze for a second before he looks back down at his hands. It’s the first time you’ve heard him speak since you woke up. It makes your heart ache without your consent, like it has a hard time letting go of the shy man you befriended.

You shrink under the six intense stares that suddenly turn their full attention to you. What do you think? Well, that this is crazy, insane, that they’ve lost their minds, that maybe you have too – but you know better than to voice that out loud. So, instead, you swallow down the curses and profanities at the tip of your tongue and say, ”I think I need more time. I’m um, very overwhelmed right now.”

“That’s understandable, angel.” Seokjin croons.

It’s not a lie, not really; it does feel like your brain is two seconds away from melting out of your brain. You just don’t understand how they can all be so okay with all of this. Wait– The thought makes you pause. Are they okay?

“This has to be difficult for you guys too, right? Sharing a soulmate with six others, I mean?” You try to tamper down your curiosity, doing your best to sound as disinterested as possible. Perhaps you can use this to your advantage? If you manage to pit them against each other, you can run away without them noticing.

“It’s going to be an adjustment.” Seokjin admits. ”Aside from Taehyung and Yoongi, the rest of us had no idea that we would have to share you with someone else, and we definitely didn’t think it would end up being so many. But, this has to be the best-case scenario for us. We’re already close friends! Having this bond just brings us even closer – like a family.”

Ah. So pitting them against each other definitely won’t work then. Not with how the rest of the room softens at Seokjin’s words, pretty smiles blooming on their lips as they coo teasingly at the oldest for being sappy.

“When can I leave?” The kitchen goes quiet at that.

You didn’t even mean to say it out loud. Your brain just feels so fried from the after effects of drug and the pure exhaustion clinging to your body that you’re having a hard time filtering yourself.

Yoongi sighs, the smile on his lips turning sad as he looks at you across the table. ”You can’t, Y/n. Not yet at least.”

The unspoken not until you accept us hangs in the air between you.

“Okay.” You whisper, resigned, too tired to fight them over it.

Plan B, it is then. You knew it was important to have something to fall back on if your escape didn’t pan out, that having some sort of plan was necessary in order to keep yourself going. It isn’t the best idea you’ve ever had, but it will have to do.

You’ll have to make them think you’re compliant, that you actually like them. You can’t suddenly just turn around tomorrow and act like you love them, no; you know they’ll see right through that. But if you pretend that you’re warming up to them over a week or two, that they maybe aren’t so bad after all, perhaps you can manipulate them into taking you somewhere? Somewhere you can slip away and find help? It’s either that or continue to openly hate them, and you shudder to think how long you’ll have to stay here if you go that route.

The men around the table relax in their chairs when you don’t fight back, Hoseok and Seokjin looking especially happy with your quick acceptance. Jimin and Taehyung though– They don’t seem very convinced. Taehyung whispers something into the blonde’s ear, sharp eyes peering at you over Jimin’s shoulder. The older nods, the suspicion and distrust clear on his face as he tilts his head in your direction, raising his eyebrows in mock surprise at your compliance.

You advert your eyes back to your soup, tampering down the scowl that tries to twist your mouth. Fine. You’ll just have to work harder to convince the two of them.

You take another sip of the now cold broth, forcing down half of the bowl before you eventually push it away. You’re going to need all the strength you can get in order to escape once the opportunity finally present itself.

With sleep tugging at your eyes now that your belly is full and somewhat sated, it takes minimal fretting to convince you to go back to bed. You barely manage to tolerate their light touches on your arms and hair as you hurry past them and you soon find yourself walking back to your room, Jungkook hot on your heels. To your surprise, he had spoken up before anyone else could offer to take you back, already waiting by the door by the time you made it across the kitchen.

Despite everything that has happened, you find yourself a little relieved that it’s him. Jungkook is shy and quiet, keeping close but not so much that you feel like he’s breathing down your neck. He gives you room to look, and you can only hope his trustful nature will brush off your wandering eyes as just innocent curiosity. The light Jimin turned on in the large living space illuminates the room well enough that you can memorize every nook and cranny you’re dragging your feet past.

The door on the other side of the room calls to you like a beacon, urging you to chance it. It’s not that far – if you catch Jungkook by surprise maybe you’ll get a head start … Your feet begin to change course before your brain realizes what’s happening. It screams at your muscles to stop before you can move even further, and the conflicting messages make you stumble, a startled noise leaving your lips as your foot slips.

Jungkook grabs your arm before you can fall. One hand settles on your hip as he pulls you back, leaning your weight against his body to keep you steady. There’s a hint of panic in his voice as he ducks down, breath brushing over your ear as he asks, ”Are you okay?”

You can feel Jungkook’s heart hammering against your back, beating so quickly you have to hold yourself back from returning the question. The grip he has on your hip is tight, your body pressed flushed up against his. Shivers shoot down your spine as you notice how the pads of Jungkook’s fingertips are pressed against your bare skin, your sweater bunched over your middle after your almost-fall. There’s a faint buzz under your skin, the same tingling sensation as the ones you’ve felt before when one of the others have touched you. You always wrote it off as just feeling weirded out by them, but in light of what Namjoon explained earlier, you dreadfully realize that it must be the soulbond you’re feeling. It’s just so faint, so easily explained away because it’s stretched thin in seven directions.

You nod, voice faltering as you stiffly reply, ”I’m fine.”

Jungkook lets you go slowly, apparently not quite believe that you’ll manage to stay on your feet when he steps away. He hovers close until you’re back in your room, lingering by the foot of your bed as you lay down. You wrap yourself up tightly, both to fend off the chilly air and to make sure none of your skin is accessible.

Jungkook bites his lip, hesitating as he looks down at your curled up form. Sadness flits across his face, voice meek as he says, ”I’m sorry, Y/n. I-I didn’t want things to happen this way.”

But it still did, you think, squeezing your eyes shut as you flip over on your side. Jungkook can apologize all he wants but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re still here; trapped indefinitely.

“I know this must be scary for you, but please try to like us, okay? It’ll make everything a lot easier.” Jungkook doesn’t sound very convinced by his own words. How can he, when he knows the six other men in the cabin much better than you do – the lengths they’re willing to go to keep you?

You hear the floor creak as he steps away from your bed. He lets out a soft, vulnerable sigh, his stuttering whispers haunting the room long after he leaves it.

“Please try. We–they won’t let you go. We l-love you.”

a/n: besties, idk what happened with this one. life has just been a jumbled mess since the last update and i feel like it’s very much reflected in his chapter. i hope you can forgive me and i’ll do my best to deliver a better chapter with the next update. :( i would love to hear your thoughts either way though!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

if you’d like to support lovesick or my writing in general, i would really appreciate an ko-fi! 💖

i hope you are all doing well and staying safe! (ps. i’m not doing taglists!)

#bts x reader #yandere bts #ot7 x reader #yandere bts x reader #yandere jungkook #yandere jimin #yandere yoongi #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok #yandere taehyung #yandere seokjin #bts au #yandere kpop #bts soulmate au #yandere x reader

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