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thestarlithideout · 28 days

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Perfectly Imperfect

Requested: No Requests are: Open!

Summary: You realize the Doctor like you at the worst possible time

Warnings: Fluff, danger, sleep deprivation, mutual pining

A/n: Moved from my wattpad of the same user

PRESENT DAY, TARDIS, FLOATING AROUND SPACE

"Y/n!"

You roll over, turning away from the noise you had yet to register as The Doctor calling your name. You were having a wonderful dream, one you couldn't quite recall now. You try to fall back into the euphoric dream atmosphere your subconscious had created, one where the only detail you seemed familiar was The Doctor's lips on yours, but that's a nightly occurrence. It's an unusual situation — a human, in love with a Time Lord who was likely to send you away at any time. And to have dreams where you kiss him! It's quite embarrassing, and you've sworn to never say a word to anyone.

"Y/n!"

You blink a few times, eyes adjusting to the dark of your bedroom. Now you can make out the familiar shapes of the simple room. You realize it was The Doctor yelling for you from across TARDIS, now bounding up the stairs, you hear. He knocks loudly on your bedroom door, rattling it just slightly.

"You can come in," you yell just loud enough for him to hear. You sit up, leaning back on your hands. He bursts' into your room, door hitting the wall behind it, he looked crazy — hair mussed up, clothes crooked, a huge grin plastered on his face. "Wait," you tell him, holding up a hand. "Don't tell me, Earth needs saving, doesn't it?" He nods frantically, throwing your blankets off of you, grabbing your hand in both of his and ushering you out of bed.

"Daleks, probably." Is all he says as he drags you to your bathroom. "Go on, get ready." You smile as he opens the door for you, placing a hand on your lower back to push you into the bathroom.

You flip on the light, turning to the sink. You brace your hands on the counter, letting out a huff of a laugh when you look at your flushed cheeks in the mirror, shaking your head. Incredible, he is incredible.

When you return from the bathroom a few minutes later, with a washed face and clean teeth, The Doctor is waiting for you, laying sprawled out on your bed. The things I could do with him laying there like that. Hmm.

You blink hard, ridding yourself of those thoughts. God, that was utterly appalling, and he's The Doctor, he's your best friend. Stop it. You take a deep breath, clearing your throat. "Is there something you need?" You ask with a chuckle, sitting at the edge of your bed next to his stomach, and you have the urge to run your fingers through his hair. He's just so pretty, I can't help it.

"Yes," he says, sounding oddly excited. "I need you to hurry, breakfast is nearly done and you need to eat before we go to Earth." He sits up, leaning back on his hands. You lick your lips, smiling.

"What'd you make?"

"Well, for my little American friend, otherwise known as Y/n, I made your pancakes. And for the Ponds I made regular pancakes." He smiled at you, proud he remembered how you liked yours. He attempted once to make you pancakes, but they were more like crepes than the fluffy pancakes you're used to. You ate them, they were good, but when he asked what you thought you revealed that you were used to more cake like pancakes.

"Aw, that's sweet you remembered." You gave him a quick hug. You shouldn't have, because, God, you didn't want to let go. He's so warm, and he wraps his arms around your shoulders and it's like he's saying he's going to protect you from any dangers, anywhere.

He smiled at you as you pulled back, "Of course, I want you to be happy here. I want you to stay." He makes you want to melt. Just become a puddle at his feet, he's such a sweetheart.

You're the newest addition to The Doctor's little family, joining his adventures just six months ago. He still feels like he needs to make you happy, so he keeps doing these nice things for you, that's the only reason he keeps doing these things for you — well, pretty sure.

"I'm not going anywhere, Eleven."

∆∆∆

SIX MONTHS AGO, TARDIS

"So, this is your eleventh body?" You ask, leaning against the kitchen counter, holding your coffee between your hands.

"Pretty much, my eleventh regeneration." He nods, he's standing opposite of you, barely a foot from you.

"That's cool. Can I call you Eleven? It's just kind of weird to call you Doctor." You realize as soon as the words come out of your mouth that that sounded extremely rude. "Oh jeez, I didn't mean- I just meant, I'm sorry. Your name is great, it'll just take some getting used to. I'm sorry." You scramble to get out, and he watches with an amused expression.

"It's okay, I promise you, it isn't the first time."

"Oh no, I didn't mean for it to come out like that. Dammit." You set your coffee down, dropping your face into your hands. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright. You can call me Eleven, that sounds nice." You look up. Maybe it's just your imagination, but it looks like his cheeks are tinted red. You give him a small, apologetic smile.

"Wait," you start to ask, smirk barely restrained on your face, "How old does that make you?"

"Older than I care to remember." He said, trying to tease back. But you could hear the sadness in his voice, the weight of the loss of everyone he's had to let go of. Your smirk immediately dropped, and you walked up to him sliding your arms under his to give him a great big hug, squeezing him tightly as you rest your cheek against his chest.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, feeling him finally hug you back, resting his head on top of yours as you rub your thumb over his little tweed jacket.

∆∆∆

"But you are going, unless you plan on me going down for breakfast in this." You gesture to yourself, too big t-shirt and short shorts on, you're so lucky that your shirt isn't see through — you don't have a bra on. He looks at your outfit quickly, perhaps lingering on your legs for a second too long, but that was just your imagination, surely. But what isn't your imagination is the way he licks his lips, capturing his bottom lip between his teeth when he looks back up at your face.

"No, I suppose not." He nodded, letting out a deep breath. You get off the bed, and he follows, smiling at you as he shuts the door.

You get dressed quickly, throwing on jeans and a bra underneath your shirt. It's fine, you think before grabbing a jacket.

You take the stairs as quick as possible, smelling the sweet pancakes in the air before you ever reached the kitchen of the TARDIS. You make an excited face as you bound into the rather large kitchen, "Smells so good." You raise your eyebrows at Amy when you catch her eye, gesturing at The Doctor who was currently wearing a "Kiss the Cook" apron. She just let out a short laugh, shrugging. You smile as you slowly walk over to him, leaning on your elbow on the counter next to him.

"Interesting wardrobe change, Eleven." You tug at the apron when he turns to face you, he was working on one of your pancakes, waiting for it to finish cooking.

He smiles, "Yes, well. . . Don't really have an explanation for that, I guess." He shrugs his shoulders, raising his eyebrows as he does which makes you scrunch your nose, light laugh falling from your lips. He goes back to focusing on your pancake, pressing the middle of it before transferring it to a plate with another pancake on it.

"I made you two, is that okay?"

"Perfect," you say with a smile. He nods, happy that you like the pancakes.

"Well," he says with a clap, rubbing his hands together before taking off the apron, "We best get going. We've got to save past Earth from what seems to be a less developed breed of Daleks. Eat, Y/n, we have some time, it might take us a quick minute to get to 1207 AD Earth." He smiled.

"Dear God, I'm not wearing a ridiculous dress." He snickered at your blatant hatred for the style.

"Well, it would be quite hard to fight in." He squeezed your shoulder before walking out to the main controls.

You grab your pancakes, spreading a bit of peanut butter and drizzling syrup over them before sitting down at the table with Amy and Rory. "Alright," you say matter-of-factly, "When does he stop feeling like he needs to make me feel welcome? I love it, he's such a sweetheart, but I don't want to be surprised when he gets comfortable with me and stops doing nice things. When did he stop doing it with you two?"

They shared a look, before Amy answered you. "Y/n, darling, what are you going on about? He never did anything like this for us. Just this morning he was ranting on about he was going to make you your pancakes, and me and Rory were like 'Yum, can't wait.' And The Doctor just looked at us before realizing that he should probably make us some as well. 'You were wanting some too?' He said." She finished with a laugh, but noticed your confused expression as you chewed.

"Y/n, you're not stupid," Rory groaned. "He only lets you call him Eleven-" Rory starts, and Amy intersects.

"The one time we tried, he got very defensive, 'Only Y/n calls me that, what are you doing?'" She puts on a voice for him, imitating his accent.

"Yeah, he never made food before you got here," Rory continues, "He would be up shouting at all hours of the night. Hell, he never comes to our bedrooms to wake us up, never knocks, never brings us nothing, he fuckin' carried you to TARDIS once." Rory was talking about last week, you hadn't slept at all for nearly three days, almost collapsing.

∆∆∆

DISTANT FUTURE, ONE WEEK AGO, PLANET OF SIRIATH

You fought to keep your eyes open as you stumbled, attempting to run, back to the TARDIS. But every step you took hurt you, every inch you ran made you want to collapse and let the Cybermen take you. You ran through the fields, corn stalks towered high above you, hitting you as you run. You can hear the Cybermen behind you, metal clanging as they trample the corn, searching for you and your friends. The Doctor runs beside you, Amy and Rory already on TARDIS.

You hit your foot against a fallen corn stock, your toe slams against your shoe, and you fall, arms shooting out in front of you, bracing for the stings of leaves smacking you. But you just fall into something solid, yet soft. You collapse into it, realizing it's The Doctor, and pass out nearly immediately. You're barely half awake as he picks you up and runs the last hundred feet to the TARDIS, where Amy and Rory hang half out, yelling for him to run faster.

"'Leven," you mumble, hiding your face in his chest, but trying to push him away at the same time, "'Leven put me down so I can run. Have to get away from the Cybermen, 'Leven." He shushed you and absolutely floors it the rest of the way.

As soon as he enters the TARDIS, he takes you to your room, demanding Amy and Rory hit a thingamajig, and pull a spinny whatchamacallit and get them the hell outa dodge. You couldn't decipher the words, you just heard it running all together.

"What's happened? Why- Are you okay?" He sets you down on your bed, kneeling beside you.

"Sleepy, Eleven, so fucking sleepy." You curl up, hands under your head, on your side.

"When's the last time you slept?" You couldn't find the energy to shrug, so you were quiet.

It wasn't until the next morning Amy and Rory told you he stayed in your room, in a chair by the door the entire 27 hours you slept. When he found out you hadn't slept in three days prior to that because of him and the Cybermen, he didn't let you get up for anything for two days, bringing your food and coffee to you to make up for it.

∆∆∆

"He didn't. . . Well then why. . ?" You tried to work out in your head why in the he'll he would do that for you, but the only answer that kept banging around in your head was flashing red and screaming out with a blaring alarm, "HE LIKES YOU!" But he doesn't, he's a damn time lord, Christ Sake. It'll never happen.

Amy rolls her eyes with a playful smile, "By the look on your face, I think you're pretty damn close to figuring it out." She jokes, getting up to leave.

Rory follows, patting your shoulder. "'Don't really have an explanation for that,' please, Y/n. Just kiss him already, I had to help him pick the damn thing out. 'Y'think Y/n will like it?'" You scoff, looking down at your mostly empty plate, reluctantly smiling at the possibility. You're sure at least Rory knows about your little crush, and Amy definitely knows.

---

1207 AD, SCOTLAND, EARTH

You reach Earth, year 1207, in a mere seven minutes. Thinking back on it, any past (or present, including Amy and Rory) companions you've had the pleasure of meeting have never mentioned how damn long it takes to travel. Once, you had to jump from a small, sandy planet from a galaxy far, far away, with two suns, billions of years in the future, to a huge ice planet in a galaxy halfway across the universe, in the present day. It damn near took twenty minutes of crashing and tumbling around the TARDIS console to get there.

You stumble out of the TARDIS and onto the green fields of a small village in Scotland, calming from absolutely cackling at something Amy said. But you go immediately quiet and stand straight up when you realize somewhere that should have been filled with music and celebration for their leaders, was dead silent. Not an animal sounded, no one person trying to sneak up on you. Only the near silent sound of your friends filing out behind you, realizing the exact same thing.

"Doctor," you whisper, fear present in your voice, "Why is it so quiet?" He hadn't stopped walking until he was just slightly in front of you, arm overlapping yours. His fingertips would brush yours if he tries to reach behind him, and he does. But he grabs yours, squeezing them. Amy and Rory are on the other side of you, and you glance over at them to see if they noticed, yep. Amy is nudging Rory, pointing at you and The Doctor, and when she catches your eyes she raises her eyebrow at you, silently saying I told you, didn't I?

"Unevolved, with no armor — Daleks." He says, seemingly reading his Sonic Screwdriver. He takes a deep breath, "We need to locate them. Their goal will be to find the source of power and take over, AKA find the leaders and use them as vessels." He quickly explains, turning around to face your group, but not letting go of your fingers, instead sliding his hand up to cup your wrist. "After that they'll probably try to take over. . ."

---

You look around in panic, trying to calm down. You're hiding in a dead woman's hut, trying desperately not to breath through your nose, but at the same time hoping the smell masks you. You run your hands up and down your thighs, trying not to cry from the pure panic of being separated from your friends while killer aliens are on the loose and could literally take over a body and pretend they would help before killing you for "getting in the way."

That's exactly what they did to the villagers — took over their leaders minds and slaughtered everyone who tried to revolt. You choke back a sob as you find the bedrooms, that's right, bedrooms. Plural. There's a child's bedroom, evident by the small wood carvings — bears, ducks, and a little heart. You don't want to look in the room, but something tells you that you must, a voice inside your head, something urging you on. You admire the carvings that litter the room, you turn around, trying to find more about the people who lived he- you let out a scream, stumbling back. You knock your head against a shelf, eyes stinging.

There lay a small girl's decomposing, delicate body. She couldn't have been more than six. You stifle your sobs by holding your hand over your mouth, dropping to your knees. "Oh, God." You quietly sob, wiping your eyes.

CRASH!

The sound of splintered wood fills the hut, and you panic. Your stomach fills with dread — you're trapped. "Eleven, TARDIS, please. Someone — Amy, Rory. Help," You whimper, face falling into your hands.

You hear a shout, and doors knock down, falling with a quiet thump.

More shouts, this time coming from outside the hut. You hear the familiar warbling of the Doctor's screwdriver. You gather yourself, bottom lip still slightly shaking as you rake your hands through your hair. The make-shift door to the child's room falls, and in comes a woman (a child, really) with a large, black squid-looking thing on her back. You back away, pressing your back against the wall. You breath deeply, holding your hands up.

"Please, listen to reason. You don't want to kill me."

"Give me a reason, human." It spat, speaking through the woman. You know she's long gone, her eyes are dead and dull. No life whatsoever.

You sputter, trying to come up with a reason when you see the Doctor silently creep behind the Dalek.

"Because she's my human, and I think your kind may remember what happened the last time you messed with a companion of mine. And they weren't as important as she, so I do suggest you leave her be."

Your eyes go wide, watching as he rants to the Dalek. It shakes the head of the woman, huffing a garbled laugh.

"Fine, I won't kill your precious human." It speaks, turning around to face the Doctor. "I'll kill you, once and for all!" It lunges at the Doctor, and you let out a scared cry. They struggle, falling to the floor. You search for something to help, and your eyes fall on the wood carving next to the bed. You hadn't noticed it before — a wooden knife, sharp despite being wood. You grab it by the hilt, waiting for an opportunity to help the Doctor. They wrestle around, Eleven tries not to hurt the woman, but she was dead before they started fighting. The Dalek grabs hold of the Doctor's hair, ripping him backwards, banging his head against the floor. It leans in and talks in a low voice. "And then after I kill you, I'll kill her too." It laughs, and the Dalek on the woman's back is face up.

You lunge towards it, stabbing at the Dalek. It spurts black, but it didn't make much of an impact. It just stands up, forcing the woman's face into a scowl. "Stupid human. Your Doctor tried to protect you, and you do this. Now you both shall die." The woman's face comforts into an evil grin, advancing. It rips the wooden knife from your hand, forcing you against the wall once more.

The Doctor scrambles up, reacting late, and fumbling with something in his jacket. He pulls something small and round out, still trying to get it to start. You're not sure what it is, but all you can focus on right now is the Dalek, who's getting closer and closer to you. The woman's nose touches your cheek, and you feel no breath hitting your cheek, making you want to sob once again. The woman is a walking zombie, dead, but body being used. The Dalek rakes her fingers down your face, and you feel the partially blunt carving pressing into your right side.

The Doctor runs at the Dalek, screaming something unintelligible to you. You double over, throbbing pain focused in your stomach, something ripping out. Then everything goes fuzzy. Your vision is impaired, only seeing a blur of the Doctor's tweed jacket coming off, and him leaning over you, mumbling something. You blink, trying to keep your eyes open. He grabs your hand, pressing hard on your stomach, and you start coughing, something warm and wet hitting your lips. It's metallic tasting. You keep your hand on your stomach despite the throbbing. You can't hear anything but his voice. It's too loud, even though you can't quite make out what he's saying. Two more people, a blur of red hair and a blur of brown hair. Amy and Rory.

Your hair, wet from sweat, is brushed from your face. You groan, and it burns your throat. This is taking hours, you've been laying here in pain for what feels like forever. You wince as someone's hands slide under you, picking you up quickly. It's Eleven.

"I'm getting blood on your jacket." You whimper, feeling too weak to do anything else. He's running, and you see the blurs of green from trees, and red from fire, and black from smoke all swirling together.

"It's alright, Darling. It's okay." It sounds like he's speaking underwater, voice muffled and barely decipherable.

He's still running, glancing down at you. You hear a boom as you enter a temperature regulated room — TARDIS, you're grateful for her.

---

You wake up in a daze with a pounding headache. The dim light coming from the lamp in the corner of the room — not yours — hurts your eyes. You sit up, hissing in pain when a sharp feeling runs up and down the right side of your body. Tears prick your eyes and you blink them back, taking shallow breaths. Then you realize that you aren't in the same clothes you were in when you arrived in Scotland, in 1207 AD. That they aren't even yours. It's a plain, a too big t-shirt that fell to your mid thighs. You squint your eyes to look at the bedside table — a carved heart. You inhale sharply, it all comes rushing back to you.

The Daleks. Eleven saving you. Stabbing the Dalek. Getting stabbed. Eleven saving you again. Waking up here.

My human.

Because she's my human.

You squeeze your eyes shut, calling out to TARDIS. "TARDIS, honey, where's Eleven?" Your voice is raspy.

She whirs in response, you're sure the Doctor understood it and is coming running. You can't help but wonder whose room this is. You've never seen it, and it doesn't look very lived in, but it sure is cozy. It's comforting, familiar for some reason.

The door bursts' open, hitting the wall. You wince, turning away from the light that shines through it. "Ow," you groan, drawing out the word.

"Y/n," the Doctor shuts the door quietly. He takes a deep breath before turning back around. He's been crying, you think, his eyes are puffy, and red. It's a reasonable assumption.

"Eleven," you groan as you stand up. You're wearing shorts now and you hope that it was Amy that got you dressed, it would kill you if it had been Rory or the Doctor.

"Eleven what's wrong?" You wrap your arms around his middle, laying your head against his chest. He rests his head against yours, hand coming up to cup the back of your head, the other hovering over your back.

"You- you almost died. Y/n, you can't do that." He sounds angry, but he's so calm and it's kind of freaking you out.

"But I'm alive. I didn't die, and I was helping you. So it doesn't matter." You shake your head slightly, shrugging, but grimace when it pulls at your side.

"Are you hurting? Lie down, God, what's wrong with you humans? Always risking your life. Bunch of martyrs, you lot." He mumbles to himself after telling you to lie down. He leads you to the bed, pulling back the blankets for you. You comply, but scoot over. You pat the bed next to you, and look at him with pleading eyes. He huffs, but smiles nonetheless as he sits next to you, back against the headboard.

"Whose bedroom is this?" You wonder aloud, scooting over to lay your head on his shoulder.

"Mine." Your eyes go wide, and you hope he can't feel your face heat up.

"Oh."

"You just," he stumbles over his words, looking at you. "You shouldn't have done that. Why would you do that? You could have gotten yourself killed! Then what would I have done?? I would have lost the only woman I- I would have lost my best friend. You're my best friend. Why would you endanger yourself like that? Y/n, you've been in a comatose state for nearly two weeks." He rants, angry again. He moves away from you to face you now. His eyes well up with tears, and he can't help but run his fingers lightly over your cheek, trailing down to the collar of your shirt. "You look beautiful in my shirt." Your face burns as his fingers brush over your collarbone.

"I'm absolutely furious at you, still." He laughs, but it turns into a choked sob. He's just relieved that you're okay. "God," he closes his eyes, and lets his forehead fall into the crook of your neck. "Y/n, why would you do that?"

Because I love you. Because I couldn't let a Dalek, of all things, kill you. Because I love you. Because I couldn't live with myself if I ran. Because I love you.

"You're my best friend." The Doctor huffed a hurt laugh, blinking against your neck.

"You forget I have the ability to look in your mind — to know what it is you're thinking." He says sadly, pulling you to him. You're knees are interlocking, one between his legs and the other on the outside.

Fuck off. Don't fucking mock me.

He shook his head, "You were reckless." He changes the subject with a sad look to the side. His hands drop from your face, and he stands up, clearing his throat. "You- You won't do that again. Next time we go anywhere like that you- you will- Uhm, you'll stay with TARDIS." He nodded, fixing his bow tie, shoving his hands in his pockets. He leaves the room, leaving you a distraught, hurting mess.

You run your hand over your face, sobbing silently. "God," you sigh, "What the hell just happened?" You wipe the tears from your cheeks, taking a deep breath.

Just, please, if you hear me. Please listen. Come back, please come back. Please, please, please. Jesus, I need you to come back, Eleven. Please, Doctor, come back.

I love you. I love you so much, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being stubborn, I'm sorry for risking my life. Please come back, Eleven. Would you please come back?

You silently beg for him to come back, to come back so you can make things right. You talk to him, in your head, until your head hurts. Until you've cried so much —begging him to come back, to talk to you, to kiss you — that your eyes hurt, until they've got bags under them that will last for days, until the corners of your eyes are rubbed raw from wiping them. Your heart aches for him, all you want to do is apologize, apologize for being reckless, for being so harsh on him, apologize for not telling him earlier.

Please, Doctor. Come back to me.

You roll over, facing the table. The throbbing pain on your right side had now slowed to a dull ache, the pain in your heart too much of a distraction. Your eyes fall to focus on the carved, wooden heart on the bedside table. You reach out and grab it, it doesn't look like the one from the hut. It's smoother, sanded down. You run your fingers over it, and find notches in the back. You turn it over in your hands, eyes widening when you read what it says. It's in his scraggly, loopy, endearingly him handwriting.

For my best friend, Y/n. Don't ever endanger yourself like that again. It would simply be too much for me to bear if I were to lose you.

♡ Eleven

Your heart stops. It weighs down on your chest like a rock, it's become a lead weight in your chest. Eleven what just happened? What does the heart mean? Why would you sign it like that?

You clutch the heart in your hands, laying down to finally sleep. You snuggle into his blankets, pressing you nose into his pillows. You know why it was familiar. It's him. It smells like him. Doctor, I love you so much.

---

You wake up to the door creaking open. Odd. Normally the Doctor comes bounding into your room, yelling for you. Or he carries you out to the consol, still half asleep, dropping you on one of the empty spots until you insist on brushing your teeth and changing out of shorts.

You squint, rolling over to see Any standing in the doorway, but the Doctor is already here — sleeping, curled up, in the arm chair across from the bed. You still have the heart in your hand, half of the words imprinted on your palm, along with the heart, and his name next to it. You look up at Amy, and she ushers you of the room. You walk as quick ad possible put of the room, and Amy shuts the door behind you.

"What the hell happened between the two of you? He's been shut up in his library since he left, and TARDIS wouldn't let us in." She questions, a concerned look in her eyes.

"I just-" you sigh, "It's a long story." You drop your head, looking at your bare toes, as if they're the most interesting things in the world — half painted, you remember when you showed the Doctor, and he just about lost it.

∆∆∆

TWO WEEKS AGO, TARDIS

You half-skip out into the main control, careful not to smudge the rich, dark green paint of your toes. "Doctor!" He turns around, hands still on the controls.

You stick your foot out, wiggling your toes. "Isn't it a pretty color?" You smile, you just bought the color two days ago, on a trip to Greece. You'd been wanting to go there, and the Doctor finally complied.

"Dear God! What is that on your foot?" He scrambled for his screwdriver while you stood there, an amused look on your face. It sounded a flat noise, and the Doctor hit it against his palm a few times.

"It's just nail polish, it's not an alien. I thought you were, like, thousands of years old." You say with a laugh, a slight smirk evident on your face.

"At this point, I've completely lost track." He physically relaxes, inspecting the color further. "I think it suits you wonderfully, though I do believe that's true for any color. Which, by the way, I can see twelve more of." He reminds you smugly, a posh smile on his face. You've had this conversation (about him seeing exactly twelve more colors than you) many, many times.

You just snort, rolling your eyes playfully with a smile on your face.

∆∆∆

PRESENT DAY, TARDIS

"Well we've got all the time in the world, now don't we?" She questions, eyebrows raised. A crash comes from inside the room, and you both look at the door, where a disheveled Doctor stands, hair sticking out in all directions.

"I woke up and you were gone." He has his hand on his chest, relieved. "I thought you left." His eyes are wide and slightly bloodshot, like after crying, or when you don't sleep for nearly a week, though of course that's different for him.

"Why would I leave?" You ask bluntly, not letting him hone in on what you're truly feeling — sadness and regret. Regret for not telling him earlier, for pushing him away.

"I-" He stutters wordless noise out, and Amy looks between the two of you.

"I'm going to leave you to whatever it is you're doing." She backs up before rounding a corner, after that you hear her feet pounding against the floor as she sprints off, yelling for Rory.

"I didn't know if you still wanted to be here or not." He admits, looking sheepishly at the floor.

"Again, why wouldn't I want to be here?" It's a stiff interaction, awkwardness clings to the tension between you and your Doctor.

He doesn't say anything, but you understand almost immediately. His companions have left of their own free will before, they got bored. They didn't want the excitement. They wanted a family.

"Doctor, I wouldn't leave you just because of an argument. Not even if you forbade me from leaving TARDIS," you raised your eyebrows, letting little emotion seep into your voice. You know that if you were to, then you would end up crying again. And you're already dehydrated and emotionally exhausted.

"Promise?" He avoids looking at you, instead opting for anything in your immediate vicinity.

"Of course." You should know I would never leave you, and you know why. You think sadly, for once wanting him to read your thoughts, and you look at the floor.

"Okay, right," he says, nodding. He goes to leave, but hesitates, turning back to you. He opens his mouth as if to say something, hand half reaching out to you. "I- Y/n, can I please talk to you?"

"Is that not what you're doing?" Tears fill your eyes and blur your vision, face warm and now wet with tears that keep coming.

"Y/n that's not what I meant, please?" He opens his door, hand outstretched and reaching for you.

You don't take his hand, but you do walk into his room, arms wrapped around you as you look at the ground. He walks in behind you, shutting the door. You didn't notice, you were too busy looking a the ground, but his face dropped when you rejected his hand, and it terrified him even more. But you don't notice any of that, you're focused on avoiding him for as long as possible.

"Y/n, please, look at me." He walks over to you quickly, cupping your cheek in his hand, thumb running over your jaw. He tilts your head up to look at him. "Listen-"

"Don't let me down easy, alright? Tell me you don't feel that way about me and I'll leave. Just don't act like you pity me. Send me away, please. Just don't act like you pity me. Like you don't want to hurt me, because if you do hurt me it'll be that much easier to make myself leave." You don't look at him, but his hand still cups your jaw even as you turn your head.

"What are you talking about? I love you," he says in a quiet voice, and your lips part in shock.

What?

"I love you, Y/n." His hands hold the back of your neck, using his thumbs to make you look at him. "I love you." He stares at you with this intense adoration, like you're the only thing that matters in the universe. In any universe.

"You love me?" You ask in disbelief. You know it isn't logical, but what if he's only saying that as a friendly type of love? What if he's lying, just to get you to stay? God, you love this Doctor so much, but he could be twisted sometimes. He truly just does not want to be left all alone.

"I've always loved you, with both of my hearts." You roll your eyes, fighting back the tears that well up and threaten to spill over.

"I love you too, Eleven." Your hands wind up in his adorable, drive-you-crazy tweed coat, and you pull him down to you, capturing his lips with yours. He smiles into the kiss, hands moving up to tangle in your hair. You stand on your toes, wrapping your arms around his neck as his lips move hastily against yours. It isn't one like in the movies — perfect and timed and coordinated. This is one of need, of love, of desperation. It's perfectly imperfect as you pull him closer to you, breaking the kiss.

He's holding you to him, squeezing you as close as possible, hands still in your hair and eyes still closed.

Your forehead is pressed against his, breathing heavy as you hold him tight. You don't want to let go, but you're both hot and emotional.

It's perfect in the most imperfect of ways.

masterlist

#eleventh doctor x reader #doctor who #amy pond #tenth #rory williams #twelfth #eleventh hour games #eleventh house #eleventh doctor #eleventh doctor fluff #eleventh doctor smut #eleventh doctor angst #with a happy ending #doctor x reader #the doctor #the doctor x reader #doctor who x reader

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sappynapper · 2 years

Text

Looking after Dream

You take care of your boyfriend after he pulls an all nighter

cws: gn!reader, food, sleepiness, tooth-rotting fluff, use of dream’s real name

you wake up in the morning to cold, uncreased sheets and realise your boyfriend, dream, never came to bed

with a frown you get up and make your way to his office, finding him slumped, bleary-eyed at his computer

he already looks sheepish when you push the door open, knowing what he’s done and how you’ll react

“clay, sweetheart, did you sleep at all?” you ask, sliding onto his lap and peppering a couple of kisses on his cheek, his hands resting on your hips instinctively

“no..” he admits, avoiding eye contact

“hmm”, you think for a moment, “have you eaten anything since yesterday?”

“no” he says again with a small huff, already accepting his fate

“you have 30 seconds to save your work,” you start as dream scrambles to reach around you, clicking frantically, “before i yank the damn cable out of the wall” you finish with a giggle

“no need, no need” dream insists, powering down his pc and returning his hands to your hips, circling his thumbs absently

you smile at him

“are you hungry?” you ask, gently, leaning your head to rest against his, and dream’s stomach answers with a growl

you laugh and dream grins, nuzzling his face into your neck in embarrassment

“yes” he confirms in a soft voice

“ok, how about you shower and change, and i’ll make you some breakfast,” you propose, threading your fingers through his hair, “then you get some rest”

“ok” he mumbles again, not moving from the crook of your neck

you wriggle off his lap regardless, dream whining as you escape his arms, and make your way out of his office

“i love you” he calls after you, fatigue heavy in his voice

you pause in the doorway before coming back and placing a chaste kiss on his lips that he quickly deepens, forcing you to pull away with a laugh

“love you too” you tell him, before leaving for the kitchen again

you work quickly to put together two plates of fluffy american pancakes and pile them with cut up strawberries, banana, and blueberries, drizzling the whole thing with honey. you even find some left over bacon rashers in the fridge and throw them into the mix

you manage to balance both plates on one arm and grab your drinks with your other hand, heading back upstairs

you find dream already back in his chair, dressed in new sweats and his hair damp, smelling of watermelon shower scrub and fresh laundry

“hey” you greet him, pressing a kiss into his curls and placing the food down in front of him

dream looks like he can’t believe his tired eyes as he takes in the piled plates, turning his wide gaze on you as you suck a stray drop of honey off your thumb

he pulls you by your waist back into his lap, taking your hand from where your thumb was still resting against your lips in his and kissing your knuckles before moving to your mouth, chasing the sticky sweetness coating your tongue

“you taste like honey” he tells you, voice getting steadily more gravelly as his tiredness grows

“so do the pancakes-“ he presses another kiss to your lips, “that you’re letting-“ another, “go cold” you finally get out

he hums a hazy acknowledgement, sloppily kissing along your jaw and down your neck

“don’t make me feed you” you threaten, breathlessly

dream chuckles but let’s you go so you can pull over the spare chair, sitting and swinging your legs over his lap before you both pick up your plates and tuck in

you don’t chat much as you eat, dream’s hunger finally catching up with him, wolfing down the pancakes and bacon at record pace

when he’s done you see him eyeing your plate too so, with only a heard-hearted protest from your boyfriend, you push the rest of your breakfast over to him, sipping on your drink to disguise the way you stare at him

his hair is tousled and his eyes are drooping closed even as he chews the last few bites of his pancakes

when he’s done he pushes his plate away from the edge of his desk

“let me wash up” he tries

“hmm no, come lie down with me instead” you tempt

“ok” he agrees, cheeks flushing slightly as even he can’t believe how easily he folded, letting you take him by the hand, getting up out of his chair and following you to your bed

you pile up the pillows and lie down at something of an angle in an attempt to avoid indigestion, letting out a small huff when your 6’3 boyfriend flops down on top of you, immediately wrapping around you like an octopus

you scratch the back of his head gently with one hand, using the other to brush his hair out of his face, placing a kiss on his temple

“thank you” he slurs as he fights off the sleep that threatens to drag him under any second

“you’re welcome baby, love you” you whisper back

“love you too, my life is s-“ he pauses to yawn, “so much better since i met you”

you smile, an impossibly warm feeling filling your chest, but you just hush him

“get some rest, sweet boy”

he whines at the pet name, brain almost completely mush with sleepiness and raw affection

he quickly drifts off and you can’t help but wait a little before starting your day, taking time just to pet his hair and listen to his even breathing

#mcyt x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #mcyt fluff

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purpleyoonn · 1 year

Text

The Line Between Love and War 7

C H A P T E R 7:

THE AMA’S AND BLUSHING

“It is said that the night sky is made up of tiny wishes that humans were never able to fulfill. That the stars only became bright by the fulfillment of those wishes. In your eyes, the stars that shine never seemed real, your childhood wishes dark and dim as you grow. But now, now you understand the twinkle in their eyes as they look down at you.”

Summary: Your experiences told you that soulmates were something you would never have the pleasure of having; something not given to you because of who you are, despite the soulmark that resides on your inner left wrist. During your solo trip to Los Angeles, you find out that you are more than capable, that your soulmates had been waiting for you for a long time, and would not be letting you go anytime soon.

Genre: soulmate au, bts au, idol bts, polyamory relationship, eventual smut

Paring: Idol!BTS x autistic!mc

Status: Ongoing (randomly updated)

Warnings: mental illness, talk of disability, lots of angst, miscommunication, feelings of depression, feelings of isolation, polyamory bts, stalking, dangerous behavior, eventual smut,

Chapter Warnings: anxious feelings, some drama, insecurities, becky g to the rescue, safety issues come up, not too much going on, a slight shutdown*, relationship first, actual soulmate bonding begins now,

Taglist: @azazel-nyx @yuzon3 @hannahdinse8 @quirkybtsarmy @mageprincess7 @fluffy-canada-pancakes @suckerforv @chaoticthingpizza @drissteele @carolinexkpop @avadakadabra93 @lachimolala22019 @justaweird0 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @toughbook @kimana122 @kpopmultistantrashsstuff @0funsite0 @joyless-living @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @elliott-calls @psychosupernatural @kyuupidwrites

*shutdown: an autism shutdown, or autistic shutdown, is when a person’s brain becomes so overloaded they can’t control reactions or they become totally unresponsive or frozen. Shutdowns are related to meltdowns. In the case of a shutdown, the person will feel as though they might be trapped in their body, unable to move or respond to any external stimulus.

Masterlist // Chapter 6 // Chapter 8

————————————————–

Previously on The Line Between Love and War:

You nod your head at his question, not knowing if you could accurately answer his question without knowing the context or possible situation he could be referring to. Namjoon just takes your answer for what it was, a probability. Nodding in his own way, he then goes to ask how you feel about attending the American Music Awards that were to take place the next day.

“If it’s okay, I think I would like to go, but I don’t want to be on the red carpet. I don’t want to take the event away from you all and I don’t think I’m comfortable with being on it.” You were honest with him, something he would never fault you for. He was happy you were being honest with him and with yourself.

“Don’t worry baby, we can work things out with Seungho. I’m glad you are going with us though. I know we would feel more at ease with you by our sides.” He moved forward, catching you slightly off guard as he placed a sweet kiss to your cheek before getting up and leaving you to your thoughts and the wordsearch across your lap.

You were dreaming, you had to be. Like, there was no other option that your brain agreed with. You had to be dreaming, and your fantasy seemed way to out of the park to be considered real.

You were currently in a light purple, almost lavender, silk soft dress. It had straps that were a couple inches in width, making you feel more comfortable with the fact that it had a deeper cleavage then you were used to. The dress went to the floor, and the stylist gave you heels to wear. It showed off your soulmarks, something the boys were extremely happy with.

There was something so primal about your soulmate showing off their soul mark, their connection to you. The boys were possessive in nature, something anyone could see, and it extended to you. You were their mate and for you to have your mark on display, it had them buzzing.

You had never worn heels before and waddled like a baby deer as you entered the room the boys told you to go into when you were done. It’s where you knew you had to be dreaming as most of the boys were in various stages of undress, Namjoon only in his boxers as he stood near the clothing rack.

You were gaping at them, wide-eyed for a couple of seconds before blinking quickly, trying to figure out if you were truly seeing what was in front of you.

There was no way you weren’t dreaming. It makes sense.

Only you would come up with a dream where BTS were your soulmates and they were currently undressed in front of you. There was no way it was reality.

Taehyung was the first to notice you, smiling big as he moved to where you were standing, watching the door be closed by Seungho. You were just standing there, eyes wide as you practically stared at the rest getting dressed. He didn’t care about his own state of undress, pants barely buttoned as he walked in front of you.

He couldn’t tell what you were thinking, but he had seen the look in your eyes before. The small glint in the corner where you questioned everything. You wore it a lot in your dreams where you tried to rationalize everything. He could only guess that you thought you were dreaming, more distinctly you thought you were dreaming that they were your soulmates.

He knew from your dreams over the past week that you still didn’t truly believe that you were their missing soulmate. It hurt sometimes, Jimin clinging to him as they talked about how they would convince you, past what they were already doing.

“Hey baby.” Your eyes shifted to now focus on Taehyung, who kissed you on the forehead before gripping your hands in his and leading you to the small two-seater that was next to his dressing area. It was then that the others began to notice you were in the room.

“Hey pretty girl.” Hobi had come up with his shirt half unbuttoned to greet you, hand locking with yours as his eyes moved slowly down your figure, taking in every inch of you he could see. It had you growing flustered, their touch slowly moving the dreamlike haze from your eyes.

“Hi Hobi.” Your voice was quiet as you tried to hide the blush growing on your cheeks. Now that their touch was bringing you back, you were beginning to grow flustered at the amount of skin the boys were slowly covering. It seemed they were trying to see how slowly they could get dressed.

Once they realized you were in the room, watching them get dressed, their stage personas came out and they made to see how quickly they could fluster their youngest mate. Jimin especially was having fun with this, winking at you as he slowly pulled his pants up his thighs and over his hips. He had you looking away the fastest, a win in his eyes, seeing the blush you had on your neck and cheeks.

Jungkook, however, saw things differently. He was the first to finish getting ready and was quick to move to where you were sitting and wrap you up in his arms. He hooked his chin over your shoulder and snuggled in close, loving the blush that was accompanied by the warmth of your arms covering his own that wrapped across your stomach.

“You look beautiful in this dress, baby.” His words brushed across your shoulders causing tingles to move down your spine, both his tone and his breath across your skin being the cause. You could practically feel the heat of his words against you, the temperature in the room spiking because of it.

“You look good too, Koo.” You turn to look at him, your eye catching on the way he played with his lip piercing. You didn’t even catch his eyes looking you over as you turned back around.

“Jungkook, you’re going to get your suit wrinkled. Come here, princess.” Jin had come up to you, knowing that you were getting overwhelmed and Jungkook was about to catch the attention of their head stylist, none of them wanting to witness her fury at the sight of wrinkled clothing.

He helped you stand up, hands on your waist as he held you steady on your still wobbly legs. Heels were not your thing and you didn’t think you would ever get used to them. It was then you realized that everyone was ready, only a few hair touchups needed from the game Jimin and Yoongi were playing.

“You really do look beautiful, baby. This dress looks amazing on you.” He grinned, loving the purple on you knowing what it represented to them. You just reached down, rubbing slightly at your heels as you responded.

“Yeah well, my ankles aren’t going to look so amazing once the night is over. I feel like a newborn deer.” Your words were rung true by you trying to walk forward, legs shaking and almost falling over.

Taehyung caught you, a hand on your back as he steadied you. He held a smile on his lips as helped you walk to the door where the others were now waiting.

“Let’s go my deer.” You only shook your head at his attempt to make you smile, the others laughing at Taehyung’s pun.

The plan was for you to leave the vehicle after the boys exit for the red carpet. You would be driven a little further down where you would be able to walk behind the red carpet backdrop and in to the Microsoft Theater where the awards would be taking place.

Seungho would accompany you into the theater and help you find where you were to be seated. You were assured by the boys and Sejin that you would have your own seat with the boys, that you would be able to sit there while you waited for the boys to join you.

There were three other security members with the boys, making sure nothing happened while on the carpet, doing interviews and taking pictures. They were also to ensure that nothing negative was said about you or the bond, which didn’t matter so much to you as it did to the boys.

The car was not silent when you arrived, each of the boys moving to hug you and reassure you that they were only seconds away if needed. Namjoon especially was worried, knowing exactly how the media would spin even the slightest breath in a negative way.

“Boys, please. It will be okay. I will have Seungho with me and I will just be seated in our assigned spots. Nothing is going to happen.” Okay, maybe you were optimistic about everything right now, but it was only to save face. You were really anxious about the entire night, not wanting to do anything that would upset anyone, especially the boys or army.

Once the door was opened by one of the security team, the boys sent you worried glances as they exited the car, Jin blowing you a kiss before the door closed behind them. You could see all of the photographers lined up and already taking pictures of the boys, some even trying to catch a glance of you in the car.

It was already rumored that you would be in attendance, a picture of the seating arrangements having been leaked the day before when it was being set up. This had the boys worried, but everyone was reassured by Sejin that the team had been prepared for this.

The management team for the boys had already prepared in the event that their last mate would be found, knowing the amount of attention that would be aimed your way. They knew people would try and do anything to get even the smallest glance or fact about you.

The headphones Yoongi had bought for you, the ones you wore to the concert, had already been sold out the following day. Army worked quick in finding out which ones you wore and acted fast, buying out the entire stock through multiple stores.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. Taehyung had even taken a short video of you and posted it to twitter with the caption “army at it again”. In the video, you had your mouth open wide in shock as you look at the website for the store Yoongi had gotten the headphones from. Jungkook was leaning over the back of the couch to look at your screen and pointing at it, laughing as he knows extremely well how quick army could be.

Seungho had opened the door for you when the car stopped again, this time towards the back where you could safely make your way to the theater and to your seats.

“Are you ready for your first appearance, Y/n?” He holds his hand out to help you out of the car as he smiles at you.

“Not at all.” You smile back, thoroughly in awe at how quick your life changed. Just a week ago, you were in your hotel room about to make your way to the Line store, and now you were at the AMA’s with your idol soulmates.

You were quiet as Seungho led you through the slightly narrow walkway and into the theater where you were met by one of the coordinators. After a quick talk where he had to show his badge and your own, he led you down to where the artists would be sitting.

While you were looking around the theater in awe, the boys were being interviewed and having their pictures taken on the carpet.

“Now, I think congratulations are in order. I believe everyone has seen the announcement of you guys finding your final soulmate.” The interviewer gestures to the surrounding people as she spoke.

“Is there anything you can tell us about your final soulmate?” She finally asks the question the boys were waiting for. Namjoon internally sighs as he moves to answer.

“She is the sweetest person. She has a big heart and it feels like we’ve known her forever.” He doesn’t even have to fake the smile or glint in his eyes as he talks about you. Jimin moves forward a little as he leans closer to one of the microphones.

“Y/n is beautiful and we are doing our…best to get to know her better.” He stumbles a bit as he tries to find the right word but he gets a pat on the back from Namjoon, making him feel he did good.

“Well, I’m sure army is extremely happy that your bond is now complete.” Yoongi wants to roll his eyes at the woman’s comment, knowing that her tone was anything but happy.

“We actually have another question that has come in from some comments on our twitter page. The fans want to know if your final mate is an army and who her bias is?” This question has the boys looking at each other, wondering if they should answer or not. Jin decides to take the microphone.

“She is army and her bias is BTS.” The boys all internally applaud their eldest mate for his quick thinking, some even trying not to roll their eyes at his blatant wink at the end.

The woman just laughs, obviously fake as she was hoping to stir up some kind of drama. She tries to ask another question but is told by one of their team that her time was over. She doesn’t even say any goodbye as she walks away from them, her cameraman following.

“Wow.” Jungkook mutters under his breath, Hobi agreeing.

“I knew we would get some questions about Y/n, but not like that.” Taehyung says low, knowing they don’t need anyone listening in, despite speaking in their native Korean. They never knew who could translate or speak their language while in the states. Look at you, they didn’t expect for you to be able to speak almost fluent Korean when they found you.

Almost every question they had received so far, besides one of the interviewers they were more familiar with, had been about you. And while they loved that they were able to talk about you and show the world how much they already loved you, it made some of the boys feel weird.

-*-*-

You had found your seats, almost right up front with an amazing view of the stage when a man had walked up to you. Seungho was quick to usher you behind him as he moved forward to stop the man from coming any further.

“Excuse me Miss, you cannot sit there. I’m going to have to ask you to move to the designated seat filler area until the show starts.” Seat fillers were regular people who had to go through some kind of vetting process to be able to fill the seats within award shows. They typically moved from seat to seat so it looked like the audience was always full whenever an artists had to leave.

Seungho, who held both of your passes, just looked at the man and held his hand up, preventing the man from getting closer to you like he was trying to do.

“We have our passes right here. This is her artist pass.” He hands the man your pass hoping this would resolve the issue.

“Is this some kind of joke?” The man now looks angry as he holds up your artist pass with your name on it and the logo for BTS, the word soulmate accompanied underneath in bold writing. He tries to move past Seungho to grab your arm but Seungho is quick to push the man away.

“I can assure you this is not a joke.” You were quiet as Seungho moves to protect you from the now visibly angry man.

“I’ve never seen this pass before. It doesn’t even look like an artist pass. I’m going to have to ask you to leave if you don’t move to the seat filler area.” He spits at you both like he would be just as happy to physically remove you.

“Why would you think this is a joke, Sir?” You ask the man, making both heads turn towards you, Seungho with a weary look and the man who seems to pause at hearing you speak.

“There is no way you can be their soulmate. Look at you.” He gestures to you, not even caring that other people were now looking your way, other artists and celebrities who had now begun to enter the theater for the awards show.

The words coming from this man’s mouth make Seungho’s blood boil. Of the week he has known you and been assigned to be your head security, he has seen how insecure you had been about everything, including your looks. He is aware that there is some trauma from your home life that aids into your insecurities, but he doesn’t know the full story.

Either way, that is never how you should talk to or treat someone. But before he could say anything, someone else interrupts.

“Oh my goodness, girl! You look amazing!” You see Becky G walking up to you and bringing you into a hug. To say you were starstruck was an understatement. You had been watching her videos since she was on YouTube, growing up listening to her songs.

When she pulls back from the hug, she turns around to face the man. “Is there something wrong?” She has an arm around you and the other on her hip as the speaks to the worker. He just starts to sputter like a fish, trying to figure out what to say.

“You know this woman?” Was what he managed to spit out, looking between you and Becky with confusion.

“Of course! She is one of my friend J-Hope’s mates.” She gestures to the two couches that have the words “BTS and Soulmate” on the cards resting on the cushions. Becky looked between the man and the placard with a raised eyebrow, not even waiting before taking your pass from his hands and handing it to Seungho.

“What’s going on here, baby?” Namjoon asks, looking at the scene in front of him. They had heard as they were walking towards their seats and you, that there was a commotion going on. The rushed to where they knew their seats were, just hoping no one was giving you any sort of trouble.

“Nothing Sirs. I just didn’t uh, didn’t realize—” The man began to stutter, trying to think of a response that wouldn’t get him into trouble when Seungho interrupted him.

“He tried to remove Y/n from her seat as he didn’t think she was your mate or belonged with you. Miss Becky came and helped her when she saw what was going on.” Seungho explained, causing the group to glare at the man after sending smiles towards Becky who was still standing with you.

At the audience you were receiving, the main coordinator for the event had come down to see what was going on. It was at this point that Jimin and Hobi decided to come over to you, checking on you and give thanks to Becky.

“Here baby. Why don’t you sit here with me.” Jimin spoke softly to you, not knowing how this incident could have affected you; you were pretty silent as you looked up at him. He was unable to read your emotions, causing him a little panic as he brought you over to the second couch, sitting you in the middle where he knew you would be surrounded by them.

You watched Jimin fuss over you, trying to push the words from your lips to tell him what happened. You could hear Hobi and Becky talking, him wanting to get her story as he also greeted his old friend.

You turned your head, looking for Namjoon only to see him talking to the head coordinator as the man was escorted away. You watched the woman gesture your way and the firm nod from Namjoon.

He came over first, kneeling in front of you as he grabbed your hands to hold.

“Baby, the main coordinator is going to come over to apologize for the coordinator and for his actions. I just wanted to let you know.” He stood up but continued to hold your hand as the woman walked over.

“Hello Y/n. My name is Susan and I am the main coordinator for the American Music Awards. I just wanted to apologize for the actions of Tim and to let you know it will never happen again. If there is anything you need for the night, please don’t be afraid to let one of us know. I will have two additional guards up front for you and you can let either of them know if you have any problems, okay?” Susan had a kind expression on as she talked to you. She seemed genuine which helped to soften the emotions you were holding in.

“Thank you.” You managed to push out, the words sounding like a mumble as you did so. It made you worry that she wasn’t going to hear you, but the smile and no you received was a relief that you didn’t have to try and repeat yourself.

Susan said a couple more words to Namjoon before leaving. Namjoon took his spot on your other side, while Hobi sat next to him. Namjoon had an arm around you while Jimin had a hand on your thigh, rubbing circles into the fabric covering your skin.

“We should have been with you.” Namjoon muttered under his breath as his grip on your waist tightened. He could see the nail marks on his palm, could feel them on forming on his palm as they were being interviewed. He knew it wasn’t his doing and could only imagine what was happening for you to do that.

He moved his hand, turning your palm over so he could see your own palm, to see the red and irritated marks. He didn’t say anything as you watched him bring your palm up to your lips, kissing at your unfortunate habit.

The lights began to go down as the stage was lit up. You could see the microphone being set up and the curtains being drawn as you sat back in your seat. There were so many things you wanted to say, but you knew that you wouldn’t be able to get them out.

“We’re here baby.” Jimin whispered as the cameramen began to film the crowd, moving passing your small group as they did so. You could feel the familiar warmth moving up your spine as your bond began to settle one more. Ease moving through your body as the tension left, excitement now filling your body as the host walked on stage to start the show.

-*-*-

During their ending performance, the boys made sure to keep you in their line of sight, unknowingly making some of the cameramen record you for reaction videos. You were incredibly self conscious, especially after that coordinator’s comments earlier. You tried to ignore the camera’s but you kept fiddling with your bracelet and fingers.

When their performance was over, you stood up and clapped for them, the camera still on you even as your boys walked off stage. It was nerve wracking for you and you honestly couldn’t wait for the cameramen to leave.

However, despite the small incident in the beginning, and the annoying cameramen, the night was amazing.

The boys were nominated for and won Artist of the Year, Favorite Pop Duo/Group, and Favorite Pop Song with Butter. You were unbelievably proud and couldn’t stop smiling the entire way home, feeling like a proud army as the boys cheered and danced around in the car.

They planned to have a live for armies once at the hotel, after showering and changing. They decided to skip the after party, not really wanting to go anyways, but also just wanting to chill and relax at the hotel. You had decided with Seungho that while the boys were changing and showering that you would go to the store and get snacks and a small cake for them.

You didn’t need to shower quiet yet, just deciding to wash you face and change into comfy clothes once you got to the room. The boys had showered together in small pairs, not wanting to waste water and wanting to be done faster.

As they showered, you left a note for them that you would be taking Seungho with you. Surprisingly, you managed to get snacks and drinks back to the room before they even noticed you were gone. You had managed to make the couch and table look nice, decorating it with snacks and the small cake. You even got champagne and glasses out so they could celebrate normally.

When Namjoon walked out and saw your efforts, he didn’t even blink before he was walking to you and pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

“Thank you, baby.” He whispered against your lips, opening his eyes to see your own open wide in shock. He took a step back, about to ask you what was wrong before his own eyes widened.

“Oh my, baby I’m so sorry. I didn’t even think.” Namjoon spoke quickly, his hands held up as he apologized. He had taken your first kiss without a thought in his mind. He began to pace back and forth in his own little area as you stared ahead, your cheeks and neck entirely red as you couldn’t help the blush from forming.

Kim Namjoon was your first kiss. And it wasn’t a dream.

You tried to get his attention, but it was no use as he moved back and forth. Finally, you decided to just move to him, hugging him and catching him off guard. When he stopped pacing, you looked up at him, arms still around his middle.

“It’s okay.” You smiled up at him before moving away quickly, your own embarrassment catching up to you as you began to fluff the pillows on the couch and move the snacks around as you waited for the others to be done.

Namjoon couldn’t help but to blush as well, smiling down at you as he moved to grab his phone for the live. He set it up on the entertainment center across from the couch, leaning it up against the television. They hadn’t wanted to bother Sejin for his phone stand, so they went with this.

By the time everyone was done and ready, the blush on your cheeks had barely gone away, alerting everyone to your own feelings.

“What happened baby?” Jimin had smirked your direction, his tone light and teasing as he leaned on the couch.

“I uh- I kissed her.” Namjoon blurted out, making your entire bond group gawk at the tall man. Taehyung couldn’t help but to start clapping.

“Wow, Joonie! Didn’t think you had it in you.” The boys began to tease their mate, each of them getting their fill before the camera turned on and the live started.

You were sitting in the kitchen at first, your own little plate of snacks on the table as you watched them do their live from your phone, wanting to read the comments. You listened to them joke around and thank Army before the comments turned to you.

“Is Y/n okay?”

“What happened to Y/n before the show started?”

“Did Y/n almost get kicked out?”

You turned your head after a couple comments, wanting to know if the boys had seen them or not. By the way Jimin and Jungkook, who both had their own phones out for the live, turned to the others and whispered or pointed, you knew they had.

“Is Y/n okay?” Namjoon read the comment aloud, turning to Jin before answering.

“Y/n is fine, everybody. There was an incident before the show started, but everything was handled pretty quickly.” Namjoon did his best to respond in a way that didn’t explain what happened but let everyone watching know that it was settled.

“She is actually here now, watching the live as well.” Namjoon added on at the end, wanting to ensure army that you really were okay. They all were happy for how concerned their fans were for you, it made their hearts swell even larger for army.

He gestured for you to come over, much to your own contented feelings for where you were sitting. Seeing your hesitation, Jimin spoke to the camera, “Be right back army!” before moving over to where you were, placing his arms on either side of you and caging you in against the table.

“Baby girl. You don’t have to come over, but it would ease the worry and concern that army have for you. If you don’t want to, you don’t, you can always just shout out that you are okay and that everything is fine.” Jimin whispered to, remembering the conversation you had with them about being in front of the camera.

You looked over to where the boys were, trying to chat and joke around while waiting to see if you would come over. You could see them glancing over every now and then.

You knew you would probably be brought into a vilve at some point, and figure now was as good a time as any to do it. You were a part of BTS whether you liked it or not, and this was a part of the territory.

“Okay.” You whisper back, looking up at Jimin as he began to grin down at you, placing a quick kiss on your lips before moving back, winking at you and bringing you over to where Jungkook and Jin had made space for you to sit.

You felt awkward, wondering how the boys did this all the time as you relaxed into the couch. Jin and Jungkook both put an arm behind you, Jin rubbing his hand in small circles on your back.

“Army, this is our final soulmate, Y/n. Please love her like you love us.” Hobi spoke up, large smile on his lips as he gestured to you, making you smile back and wave shyly at the camera.

“Hello Army. Thank you for your concern. I am doing okay.” You answer the previously asked question, not knowing what else to say. Taehyung, thankfully, saved you from further embarrassment as he shouted out “Yoongi, marry me!”

The rest of the live turned out better than you thought. There were not many questions aimed your way, but you shared that your favorite color was blue, you were from California, and that your ult kpop groups were BTS (of course), Ateez, Iz*one, and Twice, but that you also listened to others as well.

The boys also learned something new, not even realizing that you listened to other groups besides them. They had gotten a little jealous that you liked another kpop boy group, but would wait until later to tease you.

The night ended with plenty more kisses and cuddles after the live ended, discussions of how the week would look, and falling asleep in each other’s arms as you squeezed in together on Jin and Yoongi’s bed.

Next Chapter

#bts #bts au #bts idol au #bts soulmate #bts soulmate au #bts polyamory #bts poly #bts poly!au #bts poly au #bts poly!#bts x reader #poly!bts x reader #bts x autistic!mc #bts x autistic!reader #autistic!mc #autistic reader #purpleyoonn #the line between love and war

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stellamancer · 2 years

Text

notes: uh. well. i considered writing this with todoroki and deku but. uh. i wrote bakugou instead. ahaha.... anyway, i’m not gonna say i endorse eating ice cream for breakfast but.... well no one stopped me today. :D i’m sorry i’m always writing about food. but.... i can’t help it. i love food. also not proofread. oops

word count: 786

When you turn around and find Katsuki standing behind you in the kitchen, you nearly drop your breakfast— three healthy scoops of vanilla ice cream sitting in a small ceramic bowl decorated with bunnies.

Maybe he won't notice, you think— you hope. You scurry past him, doing your best to seem nonchalant, like having ice cream at eight o'clock in the morning is the most natural thing in the world.

"Oi!" he half-yells and you jump, knowing from the tone of his voice that you've been caught. "What the fuck is that?"

You whirl around and find him glaring at your bowl like it’s done something to offend. Actually, knowing Katsuki, it probably has. You smile sheepishly, "Breakfast?"

Katsuki's eyes flicker up to yours, then back down to your bowl. His mouth twists into a scowl as he says, "That's fucking ice cream."

"...and?" you ask, tempting fate itself with your question.

"That's not fucking breakfast," he grounds out as if it should be obvious.

At this moment, there are two choices left open to you: concede and probably put your ice cream back in the freezer to be enjoyed at a more Katsuki approved time or to defend your choice.

You choose the latter.

"Sure it is," you argue, your tone light in an attempt to make it seem like you're not picking a fight with Katsuki who is most definitely a fan of the traditional Japanese breakfast. "Whatever you eat first thing in the morning counts as breakfast, right?"

He growls and you really should have known that he wouldn't let you off the hook with that kind of explanation. "You know what I mean, brat!"

You frown and shoot back. "I wanted something sweet!"

"Then fuckin' make pancakes or something!"

"No! That's too much effort!" you argue. While you can agree that some American breakfast offerings would definitely satisfy your sweet tooth, all of them require way more effort than you're willing to put in on a weekday morning when you have work.

Katsuki scowls and you wonder if maybe, just maybe he'll make you pancakes. If he makes you pancakes, that would be the best thing ever, actually. You wouldn't mind giving up your ice cream for a taste of Katsuki's amazingly fluffy and soft pancakes. You know he knows this too, with the way he grins menacingly at you. Were you in the right mind, and not thinking of Katsuki's delicious homemade pancakes, you would have realized the truth of what's about to happen, but you're not and Katsuki lifts the bowl from your hands and deposits it in the freezer.

In your foolishness, you make your way to the table and wait, your mind filled with images of pancakes— stacks of warm pancakes slathered in slabs of melty butter and drenched in luscious rivers of maple syrup. You’re practically salivating at the thought. A few moments later Katsuki deposits another bowl before you and…

It’s yogurt.

A modest amount of creamy white yogurt in a bowl, topped with an arrangement of fresh berries topped with a glimmering drizzle of honey with a sprinkle of granola. Katsuki’s not the type to go all out on plating, so you know that he tried here, but…

“These aren’t pancakes,” you say flatly, betrayed.

"Y'really think I've got time to make fucking pancakes?" Katsuki retorts, ready to dig into his own bowl of fruit and yogurt.

You glance at the clock and he's got to leave in the next hour and you know that Katsuki's homemade pancakes are at least a two hour affair.

"...guess not," you grumble, pouting. You lift the spoon and thank him for the breakfast but before you take a bite, you decide to ask. "...what's the difference between this and ice cream anyway? Other than the toppings."

" 's healthier, you idiot!" he hisses. "Now shut up and eat or you'll be late!"

"...but Katsuki," you whimper pathetically. "I want pancakes now. Take responsibility for deceiving me with the promise of pancakes."

He shoots you a glare but you ignore it and give him your best puppy dog eyes. The two of you have a staring contest that lasts a couple minutes and finally, finally, he rips his gaze from yours with the annoyed click of his tongue and you know that that means he's lost.

"Fucking fine! I'll make you pancakes on our next day off!" he relents and you cheer. "But I better not fucking catch you trying to have ice cream for breakfast again!"

"Okay!" you agree cheerfully, finally digging into the yogurt bowl Katsuki’s made for you, pleased that there will be pancakes.

Even though it’s going to be a whole week until you get them.

#bakugou katsuki x you #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #nikuniku fics #i really want pancakes now omg #i don't have stuff to make them #alas #finally not an emotional support bakugou piece lmao

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dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night · 1 year

Text

Eden Part Fifteen

TW: childhood trauma, fear of punishment, broken arm, grieving a death, referenced death of a child, Stockholm Syndrome, pet whumpees, multiple whumpees, creepy/intimate whumper, carewhumper

Michael and Lucille went on their way the following morning after pulling an all-nighter with Christopher, leaving him and Ezra alone. Jay was still alone in Ezra's room, and hadn't gotten back up since Ezra laid them down to rest.

"I need to sleep," Christopher said wearily. "Though it will ruin my sleep schedule."

"Good night sir." Ezra yawned, blurry spots and colored squiggles floating in his vision.

Christopher hugged him, holding him much closer and for longer than was their normal. Ezra buried his face in Christopher's chest, squeezing him tightly and wishing there was something he could say to make everything better.

The traditional three wishes. First, for Christopher to be happy and contented again. Second, for Jay to be healthy and whole, mentally and physically. Third... What would be the third?

Ezra, usually so selfish, self serving, and self centered, couldn't think of anything he wanted for himself that wasn't easily attainable. What had happened to him?

Maybe the third wish would be for him and Christopher to stay together forever. With Jay off living a good, happy life somewhere else. He knew this to be wholly impossible at this point, but so were the first two.

"Can I sleep with you, sir?" Ezra asked. "Unless you'd prefer to be alone. I'm just…worried about you."

"Of course you may, my dear Ezra. Thank you."

Christopher kept his arm around Ezra's shoulder as they walked down the hallway, slowly, almost for fear that they would lose each other.

Curling up in Christopher's bed with him, once awkward and nerve racking, now seemed a lovely way to spend the night. Or the day, in this case.

They woke in the early hours of the following morning, though none in the windowless house could see the rising sun illuminating the horizon, bathing the forested hills in a warm glow.

"How are you feeling, sir?" Ezra asked groggily.

Christopher leaned over and kissed behind Ezra's ear. "As well as can be expected. I slept well, at least."

"So did I, sir. Oh, I hope Jay hasn't gotten worried."

"My bedroom door is unlocked. If they needed to, they could easily find and wake us."

Christopher stood up and slipped into his bathroom to start a hot shower. Ezra walked down the hallway and found Jay laying down, not on their bed, but on the floor.

"Are you okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yes Ezra. I'm sorry."

Trying to get on Jay's level, Ezra sat down on the carpet. "What are you sorry for?"

"Causing trouble."

"Why do you think that you caused trouble?"

"Because I got upset and made everyone mad at me and now I have to stay in here." Jay sniffled. "I'm sorry."

"No one is mad at you," Ezra said gently. "I'm not mad at you. Christopher isn't mad at you. And everyone else left."

Jay looked up at him, their head still resting on the fluffy carpet. "Really?"

Ezra ruffled their hair. "Yes, really. And you don't have to stay in here if you don't want to. I only had you lay down because I thought you needed a break."

“Oh."

Ezra helped Jay to their feet, and held their hand as they walked down the hall. Christopher was still in the shower, so Ezra sat with Jay on the sofa, lost on what to say.

Nothing ever got into their head, or healed their trauma properly. All the good meals and full nights of rest in the world couldn’t do that. Gently holding their bruised hand seemed a poor excuse for proper healing, but it was all that Ezra could muster.

Immediately after returning from his shower, Christopher made breakfast. Pancakes, but not the blini Ezra was now used to. It was the American variety, and full of half melted chocolate chips.

Jay dug in immediately, giggling between bites and swinging their legs below the table. The mannerisms of a young child. They were delighted by eating sweets, and still joyful for being free of Colt.

Ezra slowly picked away at his food. It tasted amazing, as Christopher's cooking always did, but he couldn't find an appetite. And he was trying very hard not to think about how he ate an actual human yesterday.

Christopher ate slowly, mechanical in his motions. He tried valiantly not to fully dissociate, he could not entirely remove all intrusive thoughts and memories from his mind.

Dinner was finished in silence. Ezra couldn't think of anything to say. The phrase I'm sorry was so empty and meaningless.

So, he cleaned the dishes to save Christopher the trouble, and made sure that the herbs on the counter had been watered. Small gestures made in the space of time it took Christopher to make a phone call.

"I'm going to visit my parents tomorrow," Christopher said, returning to the kitchen. "Will you be fine with staying home alone with Jay for a few hours?"

"Yes sir. I know that seeing your parents must be important to you right now."

"Thank you. I have no idea what their reaction will be, which is nerve racking. But I am hoping for the best."

"I'm hoping with you, master," Jay peeped up.

Christopher gently ruffled their hair. "Thank you. I know how happy you are, and though I cannot share in your feelings, I am grateful for your safety."

Jay smiled, not quite grasping what Christopher was saying, just that they weren't going to be punished.

"What would you like to do with the day, my darling Ezra?" Christopher asked.

"...Wouldn't it make more sense for you to decide that? I don't want to be pushy."

"I am tired of making decisions. I would like to spend time with both of you. But I would prefer not to simply laze around, as I need to stay grounded."

Ezra nodded. Making decisions while stressed out or grieving was his least favorite activity.

"Are we allowed to go outside, sir?"

It seemed an odd request, but spending a few minutes outside last night had sparked a buried desire in Ezra's heart.

"Of course, my dear Ezra," Christopher said. "It is very cold and snowy, so make sure to wear warm layered clothes."

"Yes sir. Jay, do you want to come outside in the snow? It might be nice."

Jay lit up and nodded vigorously, their strawberry blond hair falling in their face.

"Come on then. I'll help you get dressed."

"Be careful not to get your cast wet in the snow," Christopher warned.

"Yes master."

Ezra didn't have any actual snow clothes. But seeing as he wasn't planning on making snow angels or anything else of that sort, a hoodie over a long sleeved shirt and a thick pair of sweatpants would do the trick.

"I'm too warm," Jay complained, tugging on their sweater collar.

"You'll be fine once we get outside," Ezra promised. "I- Wait, do you have shoes?"

Jay shook their head.

"I don't know if you should be in the snow without shoes. You might catch hypothermia or something."

"I'm sorry." Jay's voice sounded teary. "I didn't mean to be so stupid. I don't have any."

"Hey shh, you're not stupid. And I'm sure you could borrow something from Christopher, even if they're a bit too large. Come on."

Ezra held Jay's hand as they walked out to the laundry room. Christopher was already there, bundled up for the snow. "Jay doesn't have any shoes, sir."

"That isn't a problem." Christopher grabbed a pair of boots that were very clearly not his from his shoe rack. "These were Eli's, but he's no longer with us, so you may have them."

Jay took the boots, almost overwhelmed by the small act of kindness. They had a zipper instead of laces, convenient, as Ezra didn't think Jay capable of tying a knot with their one broken arm and perpetually trembling hands.

Ezra slipped into his own boots, the sensation of wearing them now unfamiliar. He had worn them last night, but they still seemed so strange. Constricting, but not entirely uncomfortable.

A breeze greeted them as they walked outside, chilling Ezra to his bones. He shivered, feeling his cheeks and nose going numb. Jay caught snowflakes on their tongue, then collapsed in a fit of giggles.

They were careful to keep their cast out of the snow, fearing to disobey Christopher's instructions, but had no other qualms about halfway burying themself in a snowbank.

Having no desire to catch a cold, Ezra remained standing, smiling down at Jay. The warmth in his heart battled with the cold air, neither managing to claim victory.

Ezra's breath hung as a visible white cloud in the air. He rubbed his hands together, getting heat back into them, then scooped up a pile of snow to make a snowball.

He threw it at Jay, careful to hit their back and not anywhere sore or broken. They spun around, baffled by the snowball.

"Throw one back." Ezra scooped up more snow and demonstrated. "Like this."

Carefully, so they wouldn't disrespect Christopher by getting their cast wet, Jay made a snowball. They threw it at Ezra, but missed, it falling near his feet.

"Try again," Ezra encouraged. "It's fun."

As they made another snowball, Jay focused far more than would seem necessary, determined to do it properly. They flung the snowball at Ezra, and powdery snow exploded to cover his pant leg.

"Like that?" They tilted their head, staring up at Ezra.

"Yes," Ezra said cheerfully, smiling at them. "You've got it!"

Jay perked up, and grin unfurling on their face, lips pale and cheeks red from the cold. They giggled, and clapped their hands.

"Do you want to have a snowball fight?" Ezra asked.

Jay's smile faded. "I don't like fights," they said quietly.

"Oh no," Ezra said hurriedly. "It isn't that kind of fight. It's just us throwing those snowballs at each other, like I showed you. And we can stop whenever you want."

"Are we allowed to, master?" Jay asked hopefully.

"Yes, of course," Christopher permitted. "Forgive me for nor joining in, but go along and have fun."

Jay picked up more snow to throw at Ezra. He let it hit him, despite how easy it would have been to dodge. This encouraged Jay, and soon the both of them descended into a frantic mess of giggling and flung snow.

Perfect powdery snow covered them as they ran about the area in front of Christopher's house, while he watched on in amusement.

Ezra collapsed backward into the snow, his arms spread to either side of him to make a snow angel. Jay laid down on top of him, hardly breathing for their laughter.

"I missed the snow," Jay said. "It's so nice. I used to love-" They broke off, suddenly distraught.

"You used to love what?" Ezra asked, hugging them as they still laid on top of him.

"I used to love snowball fights," they said softly. "With my sister."

"You have a sister?"

Jay shook their head and broke into sobs, their tears soon frozen to their cherry red cheeks.

Ezra helped them to their feet. It was easy, as they were still far too thin and weighed nowhere near as much as an adult should.

"Come back inside," Christopher said gently. "Get warmed up and changed."

They walked back into the toasty warm house, Ezra's arm around Jay. Their shaking was familiar, and he didn't trust them to walk unsupported.

Ezra helped them undress, and carefully undid their snow covered cast. He didn't think much of it, as it could always be redone. Getting them dressed was a drawn out and ginger affair, though Jay’s blisters, burns, and bruises had healed tremendously since their arrival.

Christopher was waiting in the kitchen for them. Three mugs of hot chocolate, full of marshmallows and candy canes, were laid out on the table.

“I’m sorry master,” Jay blurted out.

“For what?” Christopher asked. “You haven't done anything wrong.”

“I got my cast all wet after you specifically told me not to. I was being stupid and useless and-”

“Jay,” Christopher interrupted. “I asked you to be careful for your own comfort and safety. I can change your cast.”

He stood up and walked down the hall, returning after a minute with a box of medical supplies. Jay stayed perfectly still while Christopher changed their cast, still terrified of punishment.

“Now, what were you saying about your sister?” Christopher asked.

“I’m sorry, master. I didn’t mean anything. I swear.”

“I didn’t ask for an apology. I asked for an explanation. And I am only asking out of concern.”

Jay burst into tears. “I had a sister. But she died when I was- I don’t know. I was a kid.”

The idea of Jay having a family had never occurred to Ezra before. He had subconsciously decided that they must be orphaned or disowned. He couldn't imagine what the death of a sibling could possibly be like, especially to a young child. What else was Jay repressing?

“I missed her.” Jay gulped for breath. “My parents pretended like she hadn’t existed. I almost thought I had made her up like an imaginary friend. But master, I swear she was real.”

“I believe you,” Christopher reassured them, handing them a tissue. “Wipe your eyes, and drink that before it gets cold. Then tell me as much as you can remember.”

Jay did exactly as instructed, sniffling as they drank the hot chocolate. Unsure what to do or say, Ezra gently rubbed a small circle on Jay’s back. He hated feeling useless. There was nothing he could do for anything in this situation. Not Christopher’s grief over Colt’s death, or any of Jay’s extensive trauma.

All he could do was sit still, show Jay gentle touches instead of familiar violence, and drink his hot chocolate in silence. The warmth spreading through his chest did little to comfort his shame and guilt.

“I don’t remember her name,” Jay said quietly. “I can’t even remember mine… I like being Jay, but she deserves more than a made up name. I feel awful, master.”

“It’s going to be alright,” Christopher promised. “You need to talk about this, and I am here to listen. As is Ezra. Take your time. We aren’t going anywhere.”

“I miss her. She was so nice, master. I don't remember how she died, just playing with her. But then she disappeared and everyone said she wasn't real."

Yet more sobs erupted in Jay's voice, and they hid their face behind their hands. Ezra felt conflicted. He truly wanted to believe what Jay was saying, but they couldn't even remember their own name.

Sure, the snowball fight could have triggered childhood memories to resurface, but what kind of parent pretended that their own daughter had never existed?

Well, Ezra's own family had done that to him. But he had been disowned as an adult. A dead kid was a vastly different tragedy than a kid growing up to be transgender.

Jay wasn't lying, that much was certain. They didn't seem capable in their current condition. It was either of an actual traumatic memory, or a fabrication of their own mind. Either option seemed as brutal and unpleasant as the last.

"Why do I hurt so much?" Jay cried. "I don't understand. Colt isn't here."

Christopher flinched, looking disturbed, but took a sip of his hot chocolate and forced another calm expression to his face.

"You are feeling emotional. Grief may seem to hurt physically, but that doesn't mean that you have actually been harmed." His voice choked up. "These feelings will pass, just give them time."

As much as he hated Christopher putting Jay's feelings first, Ezra knew how much he wanted and needed to solve other people's problems. Ezra wanted to put Christopher first for once, but it seemed a great challenge, and one that Christopher would never appreciate.

"I can't keep living like this," Jay sobbed. "I'm sorry, master. I know that you're trying so hard and doing so much to take care of me. But-" They struggled to breathe, gasping for air through their crying. "But I hurt so much and- and I'm never going to get better."

"Jay," Christopher said firmly, "your life has had a great deal of upheaval as of late. Now is not the time to be making vitally important decisions about your life or your death."

"I know that I belong to you now, master. And I love you. I didn't love Colt. You're perfect and I wish I could be good for you. I want to be good. But I'm useless and worthless and I don't know why you're being so nice."

"I am being nice because you deserve kindness. It is as simple as that. And I know this is terribly selfish of me, but I would prefer not to talk about my late fiance. I am still grieving, and it is very difficult."

"Yes master. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad."

"You have done nothing wrong. I just want to avoid the subject. At least for the time being."

"If you need to talk about him," Ezra said, "I'm right here. Christopher is having a rough time, but I'm always here to listen."

"Thank you Ezra." Jay held Ezra's hand, much too cold to the touch. "I love you."

"I love you too."

"You may speak to me about whatever else you wish," Christopher said kindly. "Such as your childhood and if any other memories resurface. And after a few weeks I will be open to talking about Colt. Just not yet."

"Yes master." Jay sniffled. "I'm still really sad about my sister, but I'm happy to be here with you. I feel weird."

"Hopefully we can help you become more accustomed to complex emotions. But for the time being, there is nothing to do but ride them out. They will get better, I promise."

Jay nodded and used their fuzzy sleeve to wipe the tears from their eyes. "Yes master."

Taglist: @devourerofcheesecake @elim-flower @thedarkmongoose @whumpsday @whump-by-robin @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @annablogsposts @whumpshaped @seetheothersideofparadise @knittedeyebrowsandcardigans @whatwasmyprevioususername @boonasaurusrex @suspicious-whumping-egg @heavenly-whumper @melancholy-in-the-morning @snakebites-and-ink @suck-my-clit-loser @i-eat-worlds @scp-1296 @chiswhumpcorner @skittles-the-whumpee @whumpkinz

#Whump #Emotional whump #Pet whump #Multiple whumpees #Creepy/intimate whumper #Carewhumper #Eden #Whump series #Abraham original: Hot off the press

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because-she-goes · 1 year

Text

a frank sinatra morning: part 2

warnings: none, just fluffy domestic matty & nora. Enjoy!

He awakens to the blanket being pulled away from him. He turns in the direction of the disturbance and sees the vision before him. His beloved enrobed in a comforter warmly, breathing calmly, hair sprawled across the pillow, skin looking deliciously soft, hands wrapped around each other as if she is trying to hold onto this peace as best as she can.

His eyes well up and heart soars. He can’t believe she is his, for life, for eternity. Until death do they part. He quickly takes a swig of the cold water on the side table to ensure he isn’t dreaming and she isn’t a figment of his imagination. Water slides down his throat and some out of the corners of his mouth as he gulps.

He certainly won’t be able to go back to bed now. Not now that he can no longer wait to spend the rest of his waking moments with her at his side. He remembers her going to bed around 2am last night, spending the whole evening at their dining table in front her laptop downing mugs of coffee over some work materials she had to have ready by Monday. He remembers her picking at her cuticles, biting her lips, pacing back and forth in their kitchen when she would hit a mental block. He also remembers a first date where she said she loves American breakfasts. Bacon, pancakes the whole lot.

He jumps out of bed, now with motivation to start his day off at a bright and early 7am. He throws a comb across his curls, slaps a squirt of gel in them, brushes his teeth with the minty toothpaste she bought him from the shop last week, tosses on his slippers and a robe and makes a beeline for the living room like a kid on Christmas.

He places her favorite Frank Sinatra record on the record player, grabs some boxed mix for the pancakes since he made them too floury last time and gets out the pack of bacon from their fridge. He starts frying the bacon, being extra careful to not burn it. Grabbing a bowl, he makes the pancake mix and plops it into silver dollar size shapes on the hot pan.

Feeling satisfied with himself, he sets up some orange juice, utensils, glasses and coffee by the table. Checking the pancakes once more, he starts slowly singing the Frank song to himself - careful not to wake the sleeping beauty above him.

“I’d sacrifice anything, come what might for the sake of having you near.” He croons to himself.

Pulling the bacon off the pan and plating it with a little maple syrup, he begins swaying to the band’s melody. He delicately places the pancakes on the dish he set out that has one of her paintings glazed onto it. His favorite in their collection.

He feels eyes on his back and relaxes when he smells her sweet vanilla and coffee perfume come near him.

“Morning, my sunflower.” He quietly states in awe of the vision. Her green orbs sweetly staying locked onto his brown ones. Her hair an absolute state. His long sleeve adorably swamping her figure, but still revealing her 12 tattoo on her thigh. His matching one on his chest, right above his heart which feels like it is going a mile a minute. Unfreezing from her trance, he remembers the food.

“Made some breakfast for you, didnt want to wake ya since youve been stressed with work lately.” He quickly adds in hopes that she will appreciate his sweet gesture.

It is music to her ears, the Sinatra record now fading to a halt. She smiles, eyes pooling at his constant attention to her.

“Hungry?” he asks delicately, hopefully.

He just wants a nice, peaceful morning with his girl. He just wants this moment to last a lifetime. Them. In their kitchen. In their home.

“Starving, actually!” she states in delight at her kind, wonderful, thoughtful love. She bolts towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. Kissing him on every square inch of his face.

“Well, then lets eat, My dear. Been up hours waiting for you.” He truthfully finishes before they work their way to the food and sit peacefully enjoying their morning. She babbles on about wanting to go to the farmer’s market, maybe the movies later. All he can think to himself is that when she speaks, it sounds like singing.

He nods, agreeing to their plans and continues to lovingly admire the love of his life.

#matty healy #matty healy fluff #matty healy x reader #the 1975 fanfic #drew’s writing :)#Spotify #matty x nora #an encounter

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transboysokka · 3 months

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what Taiwanese desserts do you like and what ones are popular? Also favorite street food ?

Good question!

Grass jelly is definitely my favorite and it’s yummiest with cream and bits of taro.

Also SHAVED ICE!! It’s NOT this North American idea of shaved ice, it’s like. Fluffy. Mango shaved ice is just mwah chefs kiss

Wheel cakes and waffles are kind of popping off. I like just cream in a wheel cake but Hong Kong style 雞蛋子/jidanzi/egg… waffles? so good

Aiyu jelly is good too

tbh half the time I’m feeling a dessert I’ll just go get bubble tea

Other desserts, let’s see…. It’s really not a dessert-oriented culture lol. Pineapple cakes come to mind but that’s more of a novelty or like something you’d give as a gift. They’re okay though.

Also my favorite street foods are usually like

juice lol. It’s fresh and watermelon juice especially is the bomb dot com

beef cubes. It’s def a touristy thing but it’s like steak cooked with a blowtorch and that’s fun af

Beef noodle soup

Dumplings

Popcorn chicken/fried stuff

刈包/guabao/“”taiwanese hamburger””

Corn on the cob!

Crepes are kind of a thing lol

Scallion pancakes

Listen I don’t LOVE stinky tofu but I don’t have a problem w it and I think it gets a bad rap

#quesTian #Taiwan

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your-divine-ribs · 27 days

Text

Baby Love

Words: 2.5k

Absolutely no plot whatsoever… just baby making for Smutty Sunday! So sorry about the cringe dirty talk - I tried my best lol 🫣

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"What?"

Your boyfriend's got that look in his eyes again, a mixture of affection and hunger as his gaze travels down over your body.

"Just thinking how gorgeous you look," he answers, catching his bottom lip in his teeth as he leans back against the kitchen worktop, head tilted back slightly, blatantly appraising you.

You shake your head, giggling. You hardly feel gorgeous standing there in the kitchen fresh out of bed, your hair a complete mess and your sleeping attire on, little shorts and a cami top. You're making pancakes just how Van likes them, American style fluffy ones that he came back from tour enthusing about. You've just about perfected the recipe and the smell emanating from the frying pan is delicious, but that's not the only thing...

Van's standing there in just the thin pair of trackie bottoms he slipped into when he rolled out of bed and you know he's not wearing anything underneath them. You love it when he looks all sleepy and scruffy first thing in the morning, hair all mussed up and a cute, dopey expression on his face, kind of like someone's just interrupted a dream he's been having and he's still half caught up in it.

"Honestly love... just look at you," he grins as you catch his eye.

"Are you trying to distract me or what?" You laugh, flipping the pancake that's in the pan. "You'll only moan if you end up with burnt pancakes!"

"Well if ya burn the pancakes I'll just have to find something else to eat for breakfast!"

You shake your head, dishing up another pancake on to the small stack you're preparing, reaching over for the jug to pour more batter into the pan.

That's when you feel his hands curl around your hips from behind and his body press into yours, only gently, but it's still enough to send tingles down your spine. You smile to yourself as you move the pan to spread the batter evenly over the bottom. Ever since you and Van had decided to try for a baby he's not been able to keep his hands off you. You'd always joked before that he was like a walking hard-on, but this is like a whole other level of horniness. He can't leave you alone. In the shower, on the kitchen table, up against the wall in the hallway when you'd not even made it to the bedroom... you'd even pulled over and crawled into the backseat of the car to satisfy your desires on the way back from a restaurant last week.

"Mmm... not sure what smells better, those pancakes or you," Van says, and you feel him nuzzling into your neck, his lips brushing your sensitive skin, making you shiver.

"Now you're really distracting me!" You complain, but you're hardly bothered. You push your hips back slightly, feeling the solid warmth of Van's body behind you.

His fingers leave your hips and move forwards, slipping underneath the hem of your top, sliding gently across the soft skin of your stomach.

"I can't wait to put a baby in there, ya know," he murmurs, his fingers lightly dancing over your skin, dipping under the waistband of your shorts.

You laugh at the ticklish sensation which just makes you wriggle your hips against him even more. "Yeah, but are you still gonna fancy me when I'm eight months pregnant and the size of a house?"

"I can't wait babe, there's just gonna be more of you to love!"

One of his hands moves up to sweep your hair aside and you feel his lips on your neck, sucking gently, sending a spike of heat through you. You tip your head to the side to give him better access, closing your eyes and surrendering to the sensation. It feels so good...

That's until you detect the acrid scent of burning and your eyes flick open instantly as you grab for the spatula to try and free the pancake that's stuck hard to the bottom of the pan.

"Ughh," you groan in frustration, trying to pull away from Van. "I told you that you'd go and distract me! Look... it's ruined now! I've only made a few and that'll never fill you up."

"It's fine, don't worry," he reassures you, then his voice drops low as he pulls you even closer to his body. "Besides... I'm more concerned about filling you up..."

Your agitation dissipates in an instant at these words. Van isn't the only one who's been getting turned on by the thought of baby making. His obvious arousal about it and his enthusiasm just makes your heart race and sets off a throb between your legs.

"Oh yeah?" You smile, turning off the hob and pushing the pan to the side where it's instantly forgotten. You turn around in his arms so that you're facing him, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Why don't you tell me more about that?"

A slow, sexy smile spreads on his lips. "You love it when I talk dirty to ya, don't ya?"

You nod, smiling back at him alluringly and a little coyly which you know turns him on even more. Not that you have to try very hard. It's plain to see by the prominent bulge straining at his trousers that he's already more than ready.

He pushes his hips into yours, grinding lazily against you as he dips his head down to kiss you, and you raise your head, your lips meeting in a passionate kiss. His tongue moves slowly against yours, and the feel of his hardness pressing into your pelvis ignites the fire inside you.

"Mmm... want you," you breathe into his mouth, your hands grasping his bum, pulling him even closer.

He pulls away, looking you in the eye with a hunger that has you pushing your hips forward in eagerness.

"You want me do ya? Want me to put a baby inside you?" He murmurs, bending down to grasp your thighs and lifting you easily in one swift movement so that you're sitting perched on the kitchen counter with your legs splayed. "D'ya want my cock inside you, huh?"

"Yeah," you breathe, lifting your bum as Van's fingers curl under the waistband of your shorts and he roughly pulls them down your hips with your panties in one swift movement until they drop on to the kitchen floor, discarded.

"Gonna fuck you right here love, we're gonna make this baby right now."

Van's voice is low, smooth as honey with that hint of a commanding edge that has your heart racing. He places his hands on your thighs, gripping your soft skin firmly, pushing your legs wide apart, his fingers tracing a trail upwards. He moves slowly, watching your reaction as he does, a smirk forming on his lips as little tremors shiver your body through.

"Don't tease me... please, " you urge, your body screaming out for his touch as he lingers close to your aching core but not close enough. You know he likes you to beg for it and you're only too happy to oblige.

You reach out for him, sliding your fingers under the waistband of his trousers which are slung low on his hips, pushing them down. His hard cock springs free, and the sight is enough to make your mouth water.

"Fuck me," you urge, wrapping your hand around his dick, your other hand on his hips pulling him to you. Your whole body is yearning for him, wanting to feel him inside you, filling you up.

He resists, shaking his head, his smirk widening at your need. "Oh babe, I don't think you're ready for me quite yet."

That's when you feel his fingertips where you need them the most, moving delicately over your soft folds, a fleeting caress which instantly has you sighing and needing more. You tip your hips forward, pressing yourself into his hand.

"You're so wet for me already and I've barely even touched you," he whispers, moving a finger against your slit, dipping lightly inside you. You're panting now, your body thrumming for more, the featherlight touches he's giving like some kind of sweet torture.

You grip the shaft of his cock tighter, sliding your hand down his length. All you can think of is how it's going to feel when he slides inside you. You feel his fingertip slide over your clit, moving purposefully as he watches your reactions to see your face contort in pleasure as he hits just the right spot over and over again. You moan loudly, feeling a tightening low down in your body.

"Oh yeah," you sigh as the pressure builds steadily, your head tipping back, your eyes screwed shut.

You're so close, ready to tip over the edge when you feel the pressure dissipate as his hand moves away. Your eyes flick open, feeling cheated, ready to protest, but as you see Van step forward with his hand wrapped around the base of his cock your words are forgotten.

"Gonna fill you up so good," he says, and you spread your legs even wider for him, grasping greedily at his hips.

You're so wet there's no resistance as the head of his cock nudges against your dripping core. Your breathing is ragged, coming in little gasps of anticipation. All that matters is feeling him inside you, but he takes his time, sliding into you gradually and stretching you out so that you can feel every part of him.

"Fuck..." you breathe, feeling yourself clench around him. He fits you so perfectly it's like your body was made for him and him alone.

"Love you so much babe," he utters, his eyes fluttering shut as he shunts his hips forward, burying himself fully inside you, his fingers curled tightly around your hips. You love watching the way his brow furrows and his mouth falls agape, the pleasure clear on his face.

You gasp at the feeling as he pulls back and bucks his hips into you again, harder this time, the blissful feeling radiating through your body. You wrap your legs around his hips, drawing him close, needy for him and the way that he makes you feel.

"I need..." you begin, but his lips crash against yours, snatching the words right out of your mouth. He kisses you hungrily, desperately, his tongue probing your mouth and you melt into the kiss, your mind awash with the sensation of the two of you fused, his breath hot in your mouth, his hips clashing with yours.

After a while he pulls back, panting, his hips still pistoning against yours, thrusting slow and deep. "I love how my cock feels inside you. Feels so fucking good... so right..."

His words trail off into a sensual groan and you're aware that your fingernails are digging into his back, no doubt leaving deep furrows on his skin. You can't help yourself, the sensations are just too overwhelming. You need him closer, as close as he possibly can be.

Van places his forehead against yours and your heads are bent down. From this position you can both watch his cock thrusting into you, emerging glistening with your arousal and ploughing into you again, over and over. The sight sends you into a passionate frenzy, your hips bucking up to meet his, curses falling from your lips.

"Tell me... tell me you want..." he groans, a fingertip moving to press against the nub of your clit, eliciting further curses from you. The kitchen is full of your combined moans now, the pornographic sounds just fuelling both of your desires all the more, your endeavours to both reach your climaxes spiralling into a desperate need, hips colliding, slick with sweat.

You know exactly what he wants to hear, what will make him fuck you hard enough to turn you into a whimpering mess.

"Fuck me hard... wanna feel you come inside me... I want this baby so bad..."

You gasp the words out, mewling now with every hard thrust, Van's fingertips working their magic, edging you closer and closer to your peak until your whole body is pulsing with the promise of it.

"You gonna take it all, huh?"

His voice is rough, almost a growl as he mercilessly slams into you, hard enough that you're sure you'll bear bruises the next day.

"Yeah," you breathe, your body shaking now, your legs trembling, out of control as the first waves of your orgasm start to wash over you.

You know that Van can't hold on any longer as you clench around his cock, your warm wetness and the sight and sounds of you falling apart driving him to the brink of his own climax.

His body shudders as he finally lets go and you feel his cum flood you as you reach the heights of your crescendo, crying out in ecstasy as you both cling together, riding out your highs breathlessly.

Your legs are still locked around his waist as your head falls against his chest and you can feel his heartbeat thundering wildly.

"That was amazing... as always," you murmur, starting to pull away but he won't let you, arms wrapped tightly around you, keeping you close, your bodies connected like perfect puzzle pieces.

"Not yet... don't go yet," he whispers into your hair, his head bent down to press soft kisses into your parting. "Just wanna stay like this for a bit, ya know... give things a chance to happen..."

"Oh right, yeah, the baby making. Of course!" You grin. "Forgot about that for a moment!"

You hear a soft chuckle come from above as he wriggles his hips slightly, pressing against you even though you can feel him start to soften inside you. "Reckon that was it. That was definitely the one. I just got that feeling."

You roll your eyes even though Van can't see. "Like I've not heard you say that every single time we do it!"

"Just can't bloody wait," Van says, enthusiasm leaking into his voice as his fingers flex around your waist and he pulls back slightly to look at you, careful to keeps his hips pressed tightly against yours. "You're gonna be the best mum and I'm gonna be so proud of you."

His blue eyes are sparkling with a warmth and affection that makes your already fast beating heart race even quicker, images of you and Van becoming parents flicking through your mind like you're leafing through a future family photo album.

"Love you so much," you say, feeling the smile stretch wide on your face.

"Mmm babe... I love you too."

#baby love #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #fanfic #vanfic #smut

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