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ezrasarm · 3 years

Text

Before You Go

Pairing: Poe Dameron x gn!reader

Word count: 3.4k

Summary: After a mission goes sideways you and Poe find yourselves stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Warnings: Depictions of blood and wounds, medical inaccuracies I’m sure, lil’ bit of angst, fluff, one (1) smooch, I think it’s gender neutral... I think (let me know if I’ve missed something though!)

A/n: At long last this is my first Poe fic and I have to say it’s been incredibly fun to write! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it! Please let me know what you think, I’m new to writing his character and will take all the feedback I can get! Also a massive thank you to @andriecastana AKA @im-poe-dameron for beta reading!

[Masterlist]

“Skipper- Skipper, c’mon we don’t have time for this.”

“How- what are you doing here-” You mumbled as you came to. The words didn’t hold much force with the way your loss of consciousness still hung like a heavy fog over your head, or perhaps that was the smoke spewing from the engines which had been shot down to throw you into a spin. All sensations seemed far too overwhelming but the more awareness you managed to gain, the more urgency you began to realize filled Poe’s voice as he jostled your shoulders and moved to chuck your helmet off and unstrap you from the cockpit.

“Saving your ass, now c’mon!” He exclaimed, practically dragging you out of the beached and smouldering ship. “Up we get, down we go.” He said as though you were a child, probably because in your daze that’s all you seemed to have the mental capacity of. You’d hardly managed to gain your balance before a blaster shot tore past your shoulder and in a split second Poe had taken a vice grip on your wrist and your feet had no choice but to stumble after him as he tugged you through the thicket of deep green undergrowth until you couldn’t help but match his sprint.

The most you were capable of was keeping your eyes ahead of you so as not to run face-first into a tree. Your heart was racing at the hail of blaster bolts raining down around you and in the one moment you allowed yourself to look over your shoulder to see what exactly it was you were running from you felt a sharp pain rip through your side.

“Stick with me, Skipper,” Poe called over his shoulder, a tight squeeze to your hand to urge you on as he felt your pace falter behind him. And so you did. You ran with him until all you knew was the motion of putting one foot in front of the other. Until you could hardly breathe. Until the searing pain in your side became so unbearable you could feel your legs giving way to jello beneath you.

“Poe,” You gasped out, “Poe, slow down,” You choked but your plea fell on deaf ears.

“Just a little further! I think we’ve almost lost them!” He threw back at you with that same desperate optimism that always made people follow him. That made him the brilliant, impulsive, stubborn, leader he was. But this time, no matter how much you wanted to do good by him, you couldn’t.

You would have told him so but the unmistakable whir of a speeder cutting through the trees hit your ear and you knew there was no chance of either you or him out running that. So you made a quick decision, the type of thing that got you into this mess in the first place, and with the last remaining ounce of energy in your body, you threw yourself at him and used all the force you could muster to tackle him over the ledge you had been running along side and to the ground, concealed only by the projection of earth above you and the thick brush of greenery around you.

The landing was by no means graceful. You had to choke back the wail of pain when he fell on top of you. His hand which you supposed had come to brace you, pressed into the wound just below your rib cage and instead of shoving him off of you as every nerve in your body was screaming at you to do, you locked your legs around him and planted your palm over his mouth.

Your entire body tensed, back and shoulders ridged and neck strained as you listened for the speeder which had been tailing you, it’s hum growing louder and louder until it was practically on top of you, and then it stopped. It couldn’t have been two meters away from you when the trooper hopped off of it. You winced at the sound of boots crunching on the dead and dry leaves over your heads, unconsciously holding Poe a little tighter to you as you struggled to hold your breath, and just when you thought there was no way you were making it out of this alive, that there was no way the mangle of plants you had rolled yourself behind could conceal the neon orange of your flight suits, a staticky voice killed the silence–

“I’ve lost them.”

“What do you mean ‘you’ve lost them’?” Another voice emerged from the comms on the trooper.

“I mean they’re not here.” The stormtrooper spoke, throwing a leg over the speeder before turning back in the direction from which he came.

It was only when the speeder had made its way out of earshot that you let your head fall back to the ground with a long-awaited hiss of the breath you had been holding in. Your voice caught in your throat in a silent sob when Poe shifted his weight above you and it was only now, as you shoved him off of you with shaking hands, that he began to clue into the way you had stumbled behind him as you ran, the desperation in your voice when you’d told him to slow down, the reason you, someone he could rely on to follow him through anything, had just about refused to. The warm, damp sensation on his palm made sense now when he looked down at the deep crimson stain on your flight suit where it had rested.

“Shit.” He let out, looking between you and the wound on your side. “Shit, they hit you? Why didn’t you tell me?!” The panic in his voice coming out more aggravated than he had intended and making you wince.

“We were a little preoccupied!” You huffed out, gesturing in the direction you had come from as if the situation were somehow the slightest bit funny despite the pain that seemed to be intensifying with each passing moment.

“You were shot!” He exclaimed, mind racing for the next step, for a way out of this.

“It’s not that bad.” You lied, clearly not fooling anyone with the waiver to your breath. “Just gotta get my hands on a medkit and I’ll be good as new.” You say, trying your best to play this off as nothing despite the sinking feeling in your gut that it was considerably more than that. “You have a medkit right?” You ask, only allowing the reality of the situation to hit you when Poe’s face scrunched up and he smoothed a hand over his features.

“No. It’s back on the ship I crashed trying to keep you from getting yourself killed.” He groaned in frustration.

“One hell of a rescue mission, huh?” You grumble out.

“I don’t seem to recall you fairing much better. At least I got my landing gear down!” He exclaimed, “What the hell were you thinking, getting down that low?” And here it came, the ‘I’m your commanding officer, you’re supposed to listen to what I say’ card. The one play you couldn’t rebuttal to no matter how close to him you thought you were, or how much you thought you could get away with.

“I was thinking I had a clear shot to take out their fuel reserves in one go if I got close enough.”

“Yeah, a little too close, don’tcha think?” He throws back at you.

“Remind me how you got here again?” You quip, managing to render him speechless for at least a couple of seconds. A deep exhale escapes him, his head falling in resignation with a slight shake before he speaks again.

“Can you sit up?” He asks, tone flat, and it’s now that the remorse begins to ween its way back into your head.

“I think so-” You start but the hiss you let out when you attempt it proves otherwise and Poe is quick to shift around you and prop you up in his lap so he can help you shoulder the top of your flight suit down around your hips. The throbbing in your side doesn’t allow you much room to relish in the way his hands feel on your bare skin when he pushes your undershirt up so he can take a look at the angry wound on your waist but the warmth is welcome.

“What was that you said about it not being that bad?” He asks, trying to mask the panic rising in his chest at the depth of the wound.

“I didn’t want you to worry,” you try to defend yourself but he’s already brushing off the answer.

“Yeah, well I’m gonna worry anyway, aren’t I?” He says and you’re not quite sure why that makes this hurt so much more, and not just from the way he’s balled up the sleeve of your flight suit to press into the wound and try to slow some of the bleeding. A heavy silence hangs in the air as you let his words stew before attempting to speak.

“I’m sorry about what I said- for all of this.” You say quietly, “I’m glad you came for me, I’d be dead already if it weren’t for you.”

“Don’t say that-“ He tries to push the thought aside but you had hardly been conscious when he found you, you knew there was no way you would have even made it out of your ship let alone outrun those ground forces without his help.

“I should‘ve listened to you. I shouldn’t have come down here at all, I just thought…” You cut yourself off before you even have the chance to say too much, worrying your lip between your teeth as he brings a hand to cradle your head, his thumb brushing soothing patterns along your jaw line as you force your breathing into control.

“What?” He whispers and you’re not sure what it is that possesses you to finish your sentence, the gentleness to his tone or the overall circumstances but you tell him.

“...I wanted you to be proud of me, Poe,” are the shaky words that slip past your lips and to your surprise and probably his too, his face light up.

“Are you kidding me? I’m always proud of you, Skipper.” You scoff weakly at the nickname as he brushes some of the sweat dampened hair off your forehead. “I’m not kidding, I’ve lost track of the number of times I’ve zoned out just watching you fly. Every twist and turn you make is so natural, so graceful, it’s like the ship is an extension of your own body and it’s mesmerizing.” He explains, a hint of wonderment to his tone that causes the butterflies in your stomach to stir before the corners of his lips drop. “It also makes it all the more tragic to watch you spin out of control.” He says and the guilt hits you like a truck all over again. “I thought I’d lost you.”

“Don’t speak too soon.” You huff out, glancing down at the place where he was still holding firm pressure to your wound, and it’s clear the humor to the comment is lost on him.

“Hey, we’re not going there!” He retorts, not sure if it's more of a comfort for you or for him at this point. “The resistance knows where we are. They’re gonna come for us.” He assures you and you see that same unwavering hope glint in his eye but there's something else there too. A slight mist making his eyes glisten and at this point you’re sure that even he knows without getting proper medical attention soon your odds are dwindling. He’s only reminded of that more when your grip tightens on his forearm.

“Poe,” The first hint of fear makes its way into your voice when you speak, your head feeling heavier in his lap, “It’s c-cold.” You stutter out, and he notices the way your teeth are chattering slightly when he shifts as gently as possible to wrap himself snuggly around you.

“It’s okay,” he lies more to himself than to you, “you’re going into shock. Just stay with me, keep talking. You’re doing so well.” He says, finding it harder and harder to keep his voice even with each word.

“Can I ask you something?” You murmur. At this point in the cheesy holos you would watch back on base the handsome protagonist would have said ‘yes, anything,’ and it would be followed by a deep heartfelt confession but Poe wasn’t like that.

“Depends on what you’re asking.” He smirks and you shake your head. You’d have shoved him in the arm playfully if it didn’t take all of your concentration just to keep your eyes open right now.

“Seriously? Even in death you won’t tell me what happened on Dagobah?”

“You’re not dying!” He protests a little harsher than intended and you bite back your fading smile when you refocus on the question you had meant to ask him.

“Why do you still call me Skipper?” You rasp out and his head tilts fondly towards you. You and he both knew you’d been promoted ages ago yet the moniker had stuck. He had never taken the time to consider if you liked it or not.

“Because you hadn’t even made it out of training in that first battle on D’Quar but you stepped up to the plate when we needed you and were the best FO I’ve ever had.” He explained. “You’ll always be my right hand man.” He said quieter this time and with the way his forehead was practically pressed to yours and the closeness he held you to him with you had to wonder if he meant it in a couple more ways than one. You think he’s about to say more but you’re distracted when your vision begins to cloud with purple spots.

“Poe,” his name is heavy on your tongue as your heart rate picks up and your grip on his arm tightens. “I can’t see. I can’t…” your words trail off as he tries to jostle you back to life.

“Skipper, stay with me.” He calls to you but his voice is distant and the words scramble in your head. “Help is almost here, I’m sure of it, just stay with me.” He tries again, clutching you close as he rocks you in his arms but you’re already gone and he’s left muttering gentle affirmations to no one but himself.

***

It was bright. Way too bright and the fluorescent lights above that you recognized as those from the base infirmary made your eyes sting as you tried your best to cling to consciousness for the second time in 24 hours.

“Finn peed on me.” Your eyes had barely fluttered open when Poe spoke.

“What?” Your throat was hoarse from disuse for several hours and you were sure your ears must have been equally decalibrated with the words you were positive you had misheard.

“On Dagobah. You asked what happened on Dagobah and Finn had to pee on me.” He clarified but your mind was still reeling.

“Wait what?!” If you weren’t awake before you certainly were now, unable to restrain the disbelieving grin rising on your lips. You weren’t sure if it was over the story he was telling you or the mere fact that you were around to hear it but the feeling of pure joy welling in your chest was overwhelming.

“I got stung by one of those crazy looking swamp monster things that live in the water there and it hurt like hell and Finn said he’d heard something about urine making the sting go away so he peed on me and we both swore we’d never speak about it again.” He sped through the story as though he couldn’t get it over with fast enough but the look on his face told you he wasn’t quite as disappointed with telling you as his words let on.

“Did- did it work?” You asked hesitantly, half horrified and half too invested not to get an answer.

“No, it actually made it about a thousand times worse. It was… the dumbest idea we’ve ever had and that’s saying something.” He said, melting at the way you had to clutch your side to keep from laughing too hard.

“Why are you telling me this now?” You shake your head softly as the corners of your lips fall, leaving only the warm look in your eye that gave Poe the confidence to give you an actual answer.

“Because for a whole four minutes I thought I had just watched you die in my arms and it turned my entire world upside down.” He whispered, shifting onto the edge of the seat he’d pulled up to the side of your bed so he could grasp your hand in his. “I had so much I still wanted to tell you and I was too busy trying to will you not to die on me to get it all out.” He said and that misty look in his eyes had returned telling you this was no joke. “I never want to feel that way again.”

“Well we’ve got time, Poe. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon-” You start to say but he’s already shifting up onto the edge of your bed to clutch both of your hands in his and you would be lying if you said the intensity in his eyes wasn’t scaring you just a bit.

“No, no I’ve gotta tell you right now or I’m never gonna have the balls to say it again.” He insists and you shift up in the bed slightly to give him your full attention. “You were right about the Dagobah mission, we never should have gone alone-”

“Well yeah I could’ve told you that-” You chuckle but he’s too focused to pay it much mind.

“-and you technically won that race that one time because I accidentally misread the track markers and cut the course short-”

“I knew about that one. BB-8 told me, and it wasn’t an accident.”

“The little traitor.” He muttered to himself, forcing the corners of your lips to quirk upwards at the corners. “Sometimes I wish you hadn’t been promoted because I miss the feeling I used to get when I flew with you.” He admits rather sheepishly for his usual suave and self-assured demeanour and that's enough to render you speechless on its own but he’s not done yet. “And I’ve been in love with you since the moment you slid into that cockpit with me and only admitted after having to take full control for five minutes mid dogfight that you’d never flown outside of the sim before.”

“Well I knew I was in good hands.” You mumble, thoroughly distracted now by the realization of how close his face is hovering to yours.

“I think you’re missing the point here, Skipper.” He whispers, so close you can practically feel his gaze burning into your lips as he speaks.

“No, I’m just not entirely sure what to say.” You murmur back, the urge to close the short distance between you growing impossible to resist with each passing moment.

“Nothing, you don’t have to say anything...” He shakes his head, just about ready to pull away when you tilt your chin up to catch his lips with yours, feeling the way they curve up into a smile against your mouth as his hand comes to cradle your jaw. You’re not sure when your arms snuck around him in any attempt to hold him as close to you as possible, nor are you aware of how hard he’s working to resist the urge to melt into your touch and cause any more pain than has already been caused today. All you know is how whole you feel being in his embrace and how glad you are that you stuck around.

[Masterlist]

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Poe Dameron Taglist: @houseofthirst

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n

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h4knyeon · 4 years

Text

double cheeked up | wonho/lee hoseok

wonho x female reader

genre: smut, maybe crack

word count: 1.1k i think lol

summary: hoseok’s ass is irresistible…

warnings: spanking, raw sex lol, uh rough sex :).

hoseok was on edge. he hadn’t been talking much, and you knew why. you had been smacking his ass all day, but how couldn’t you when he was wearing short shorts that hugged the curve of his ass perfectly. the first couple of times you did it to him, he shrugged it off with a laugh, but being the mischievous girlfriend you are, you had to continue. you lost track of how many times you hit his butt already, but you didn’t feel like stopping anytime soon, especially since hoseok had a dumptruck of an ass.

you were walking behind him, following him into the kitchen with your eyes locked on his cheeks and ready to strike again. bringing your hand up, you let it swing down toward his ass, but before your palm could make contact with the soft meat, wonho turned and grabbed your wrist at the drop of a hat. he moved so fast that you could barely process what just happened. your eyes were saucers as they met his. his glare was piercing, and it was so quiet between the two of you that you could hear your heart pounding in your ears.

you weren’t sure what hoseok was going to do next, but you didn’t really expect him to drag you to the kitchen island and force your chest against the surface. gasping at how rough he was being, the only word you could think of saying at the moment was his name. he held your arm behind your back as he pushed you down against the counter. he wasn’t hurting you, but you certainly wouldn’t be able to get out of his hold. finally, he spoke.

“why are you so annoying?” he scoffed as he began to slowly run his hand up the side of your thigh. “smacking my ass all day? i love a good ol’ butt too but you don’t see me abusing the shit out of your cheeks.”

“i-im sorry, but what do you expect when you’re this double cheeked up on a thursday afternoon,” you explained, craning your neck to look at him. you put on your best puppy dog eyes, trying to persuade him to forgive you.

he let out a thoughtful hum and you thought you had him, until he brought his hand up and struck your ass hard.

“hoseok!” you yelped, feeling the sting in your bones. you were already envisioning the mark of a hand you would see in the mirror later. hoseok kneaded the flesh through your leggings but it could only relieve some of the pain.

“what? it’s just right i return the favors… the many, many, favors,” he chuckled, slapping his palm against your untouched ass cheek this time. basking in your cries, hoseok hummed in delight as he massaged you through the pain. “you probably do this shit on purpose; get me all worked up because you love when i punish you. i bet you’re soaked right now just from two hits,” he taunted. bringing a hand between your thighs, he laughed triumphantly when he felt your arousal seep through your leggings. “ahhh, you’re such a slut. maybe i shouldn’t touch you, since you love my hands on you so much.”

you could only whine in response, wiggling your butt towards him. feeling him rub his hands all over your ass, you smiled when you felt his fingers hook under the waistband of your pants. leaning over so that his lips were next to your ear, hoseok’s voice was sultry when he laughed.

“but this is more fun,” he whispered, tugging your leggings down to your ankles. you gasped when the cold air hit your cunt, but you gasped even louder when hoseok spanked you again in an instant. without the fabric of your pants covering you, the sting was even more apparent. hoseok’s cool hands were more soothing this time on your warm bare skin, but you knew the punishment wasn’t over.

your head felt like it was spinning with arousal. you mentally slapped yourself for being so turned on this early into things, but hoseok’s words weren’t any help.

“babe, you’re practically dripping,” he pointed out, running a finger against your drenched panties. “my cock is gonna slip right in.”

you couldn’t help the moan that escaped at the thought of him fucking you. you extended your back toward him, trying your best to push your ass against his crotch. “please hoseok, just fuck me,” you whined.

“wow, you’re more of a slut than i thought.” hoseok shoved your panties to the side, pushing his shorts down and watching as his cock sprung free. you felt him line himself up with your hole, but before he pushed in he had to strike your ass one more time. leaning over you, his lips were right next to your ear again. “i’m not gonna go easy on you baby,” he whispered before slamming into you.

you dug your nails into your palm, trying to brace yourself for his powerful strokes. without giving you a chance to adjust, hoseok started a bruising pace. filling you to the brim with each thrust, your yelps and the sounds of skin clapping began to echo through the room.

“h-h-hoseok!” you tried to scream between cries. tears brimmed your eyes as you waited for the pain to become pleasure. just as you were beginning to feel good, the flesh on your ass was beginning to sting, and you barely processed that hoseok had spanked you again.

“i told you i wasn’t gonna go easy on you,” he grunted. he trailed his hand up your back and wound his fingers around the front of your neck. before you knew it, you were pulled flush against his chest. his grip on your throat was only growing tighter, but you didn’t seem to care when you heard his breathy moans nice and clear. with your bodies against one another, hoseok was hitting the right spots over and over. your stomach twisted with pleasure and you were moments away from your climax.

hoseok’s mouth was right beside your ear. his moans which seemed to be increasing in volume filled your head and egged you on toward your orgasm. his free hand crawled to the front of your body, rubbing your clit in tight circles.

it felt like your head was about to explode, the pleasure overwhelming you. in just seconds you were coming undone around him. feeling your walls suck him in further pushed hoseok over the edge. you sighed in content, being pumped full with his seed as he held you against him tightly.

hoseok’s shirt stuck to his skin with his sweat, and you felt his heart pound against your back. you couldn’t stifle the hiss you let out when he pulled out of you, already missing the feeling of being so full.

“i hope you learned your lesson!” he teased. you turned yourself around, chest to chest with him. his stern face was a stark contrast to your cheeky grin. “you don’t seem like you learned anything. i guess i’ll just have to teach you again.” he captured your lips in a wet kiss, all while making sure to smack your ass once again for good measure.

#wonho #wonho smut #monsta x smut #wonho fluff #monsta x fluff #kpop smut #monsta x x reader #monsta x writings #monsta x fic #monsta x #smut #monsta x blurb #monsta x blurbs

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zwowow · 3 years

Note

this might be very triggering so its fine if u dont do it, but kells self harming secretly and em finding out and kells thinks he’s gonna be mad but em is comforting instead

sorry for the ask, im the same anon that went thru a break up and it aint going well

tw: self harm

I’m sorry my love, break ups are rough and it really sounds like ur goin thru it. sorry this took a while! but hopefully you’ve had time to heal a bit between sending this ask nd now.

psa to all I’ve never self harmed, so i’m just hoping this captures the idk headspace? alright :/

He started when he was a teenager. That’s how long he’s been doing this shit. It’s fucking shameful that he hasn’t grown out of it in over a decade, but it’s also one of the only things that’s consistently soothed him. When weed isn’t enough to calm him, or shake him from a spiral of self-loathing, he always comes back to this. Not because it makes him feel better, but because it makes him feel something.

He can focus on the pain and only the physical pain. His emotions, the real world shit he has to deal with, can fall to the side for a moment and he can revel in the hurt. The hurt that he has control over.

That’s a part of it, too. Control. So much of the existential pain he feels is beyond what he himself can change. Everyone gets to have an opinion on him, and regardless if it’s good or bad, he has to know it and internalize it. He has no choice. Time moves on and he can’t control what his past self has done, but the regret eats him alive. His head spins when he thinks about all of the shit that’s wrong in his life that he no longer has the power to change.

But the harm he does himself? Knowingly and methodically? It’s all controlled. He’s got it all under control.

Or at least he did. Recently, he’s had the itch to hurt more and more frequently. There’s so much going on in his life that he’s no longer in control of even the one thing that makes him feel grounded. The old scars and fresh wounds are getting harder to hide. Even on his inked skin, raised bumps and sensitive bruises are easy to find when his boyfriend spends all of his time roaming his hands gently over his body.

But Em can’t find out. Colson refuses to let him. He’d think Colson is pathetic (he is). He’d be disgusted by him (he should be). He’d hate him (but he couldn’t hate him more than Colson hates himself).

He tries not to hurt himself around Em because of this, but sometimes it’s unavoidable. Sometimes he needs it.

Colson sneaks out of bed one night at Em’s place while his boyfriend is sleeping. On his way out, he grabs his small bag that has just a few of the items he uses to hurt himself. His fingers shake around the bag and his breath quickens in his chest.

Ain’t it funny that the shame he feels from doing this just makes him want to do it more?

When he makes it to a bathroom far enough away from Em’s room that he doubts he would make the effort to find him all the way down here, he lays the bag on the counter and opens it up.

This hadn’t started with the razor blades and lighters he keeps in the bag. He’s worked himself here from pulling out his leg hair and scratching his own arms raw just to feel the sting. The older and more well known he got, the more out of control he felt, and from there he made the jump from nervous ticks to genuine self harm.

He used to starve himself, too. He thinks back to only a couple of years ago and picks up the lighter. He could go days without eating, even while on tour. There were times where he’d pass out after shows from the hunger, but he’d write it off to others as exhaustion. That had been one of the most pleasing ways to hurt himself. The gentle build up to physical depletion to match what he felt emotionally was fulfilling in a way he couldn’t possibly explain to anyone.

And that’s why he stopped. Em started to catch on. He started to ask questions no one had asked before. He was obsessed with feeding Colson and keeping him healthy.

Colson started eating regularly because Em would’ve hated to know his not eating wasn’t just absent-minded forgetting. He would’ve been so disappointed to find out it was deliberate starvation. Colson didn’t want to disappoint Em.

He still doesn’t. Colson puts the lighter on the counter and takes out one of his blades, too. Em would hate to see this. He wouldn’t understand.

Inhaling shakily through his nose, Colson looks between his two options for tonight. He leaves the blade on the counter and picks up the lighter. Em is sure to notice if he has a fresh cut. A burn is easier to hide.

He flicks the lighter to life and is deciding where to hold it on his body when he hears the first knock.

“Kells.” Shit. He loosens his grip on the lighter and the flame goes out.

What is Em doing out of bed, and what the fuck is he doing down here?

“Kells,” Em tries again, “You good?”

“I’m fine.” He lies.

“Are you fucking smoking in there?” Outside, Em’s voice grows suspicious. He heard the lighter go on and now he thinks Colson is smoking weed in his bathroom. That would be easier to explain.

After too long of a pause he says, “No.”

Em doesn’t give a warning before he throws open the bathroom door. Colson wants to knock his head into the mirror for not thinking to lock it. He dives for the blade on the counter, but Em is staring right at it.

“What the fuck?” Em looks between Colson and the counter multiple times. It’s a stupid overdramatic response, but he wants to slit his fucking wrists from that look.

Em’s brow furrows. Colson feels sick to his stomach. Em is pissed at him. He’s disgusted by him. He doesn’t know whether to throw him out or call a mental hospital. He hates him. He must be so angry.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to find out. I was trying to hide it. I shouldn’t have done it here. I know it’s fucking sick. I know it’s fucking crazy to cut and burn myself, I know but I...” Excuses and apologies trip over each other running off of his tongue.

“You’re cutting yourself?” Em interrupts him. His intense gaze sweeps over Colson. He’s not disgusted or angry like he’d thought. He’s shocked, confused, and even a bit hurt.

“I... yeah.”

“Why?” A loaded question like that shoots Colson right through the chest. Why? He can hardly answer the question to himself, how is he supposed to explain it to Em?

Em said it himself, he was just clownin’ when talking about cutting himself, how fucked up does someone have to be to actually do that? Colson doesn’t want to explain to Em how fucked up he is.

When he doesn’t answer, Em looks back down at the blade and then at the lighter still in his hand. Kells sees the thousands of things he wants to say and the million questions he wants to ask in his eyes. Finally his eyes set, and Kells braces himself for the next thing to come out of Em’s mouth.

“Don’t do that shit tonight, yeah? Just come back to bed.” The response shocks Colson even more silent than he’d been. Does he still want to know why, or is he just dropping it?

As if reading his mind, Em shrugs, “You can tell me why when you’re ready. Tonight, I just want to cuddle your ass.” He holds out his hand to Colson and laces their fingers together tightly when he grabs on. Em tugs him gently out of the bathroom and down the hall back to his room. Colson leaves the lighter and the blade on the counter.

When they’re back in bed, Em holds him differently than he has before, His arm feels weighted, it presses Colson gently down into the bed, unable to move from the hold. Em holds him from behind protectively and breathes into Colson’s neck. It’s so close it’s almost claustrophobic, but Colson wouldn’t pull away from it even if he could. The urge to hurt himself is immediately replaced by the need to burrow in closer to Em’s grounding touch.

He falls asleep easily, letting the last of his shame and fear at Em’s reaction leave his body without a fight.

In the morning, he goes to clean his stuff up in the bathroom, or to throw it away, but not to use it. When he gets there, the bag, the razor, and the lighter are nowhere to be found. Instead of being anxious at the loss, he feels a bit calmed by it.

This isn’t the end. He won’t be able to stop hurting himself just because Em got rid of a few of his blades and one of his many designated lighters, but it is a start.

Em knows now, he’s looking out for it. And if the way he always acts toward him, from the making sure Colson is eating to the cuddle last night is any indication, he’ll be there when Colson needs it. He’ll take care of him.

#Anonymous #emgk #zwowfic #kind of a rushed ending #but i hope u liked it bebs #also like askbox nd messages are always open for those who wanna talk #tw: self harm

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seven-homosexual-dinosaurs · 4 years

Text

Tree trouble

Part of the “The kids are back” series. Set before “Reunions”

Anne totally meant to get in this situation. Yep. Totally.

Otherwise known as Anne’s tree story.

To Anne’s credit, she wasn’t completely responsible for her current predicament. Probably only forty? Fifty percent? Whatever. Point is, she wasn’t the one responsible for her situation for once.

She hadn’t even meant to cause chaos. She’d simply wanted to give her girlfriend a nice present. Though, perhaps explaining what was going on would be a good idea.

It had all started when she’d gone shopping with Cathy. They’d been looking for a present for Anna’s birthday. Anne had gone up ahead to look at a sparkly green pair of heelies when she’d noticed the absence of a certain blue queen. Turning back, she’d found Cathy examining an orange woolen hat.

“You think Anna’d like it?”

Cathy shook her head. “No, I was just thinking. I’m gonna need a new hat since Kitty’s been stealing mine,”

“You like this one?” Anne asked, feeling the hat in her hands.

“I mean, I guess? Just not a huge fan of the colour,”

Anne nodded in understanding. “Not blue enough, huh?”

Cathy swatted her arm.

“Just because I’m ‘The blue queen’ doesn’t mean that everything I own has to be blue!”

Anne snorted.

“So what colour were you gonna get?”

“... blue,”

Anne grinned , wrapping her arms around her girlfriend.

“That’s what I though,”

Cathy rolled her eyes, grabbing Anne’s hand and leading her away from the store. “Whatever. It’s too expensive anyways, we should probably just go finish getting the present,”

Anne nodded reluctantly, sparing one last glance at the hat before following Cathy towards the video game isle.

-----------------------------------------

“You want to learn to knit?”

Jane eyed Anne dubiously.

“Yeah, and?” Anne shuffled her feet self consciously. “What’s it to you?”

Jane expression shifted as she smiled at Anne gently, setting her book down on the kitchen counter. “Nothing, just surprised,” Seeing Anne’s expression, she elaborated,

“Not in a bad way! Just a bit unexpected. Are you free tomorrow after lunch? I’ll need today to get the materials,”

“Yeah,” Anne nodded. “And by the way, could the wool be blue?”

-----------------------------------------

“Hey Kitty, lemme borrow that hat for a sec,”

Kat snatched the hat away from her, planting it firmly on her head once more.

“No! I need to keep my head warm!”

“It’s not even yours! It’s Cathy’s!”

“Then go ask her!”

Kat’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Unless... you don’t want Cathy to know you’re taking her hat!”

Anne snatched the hat off of Kat’s head, stuffing it in her hoodie pocket before retreating to the entrance of her room. “What? No! Psssshhhh, why’d you think that?”

Kat scoffed, throwing a sparkly pillow at Anne.

“Yeah, whatever. If you wanted to go cause trouble you could’ve just asked,”

Anne sighed in relief. She hadn’t been found out yet.

“Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone, k?”

“Like you even have to ask!”

-----------------------------------------

Finally, it was done.

After several painstakingly long knitting classes with Jane and a close call where Catalina almost discovered her, she’d done it.

She’d made a hat.

Not just any hat mind you, she’d created a replica of the hat she’d seen with Cathy. It was blue of course, what kind of girlfriend would she be if it were any other colour? Now all that was left was to add some personal touches. Namely, a light blue and green pompom she’d spotted at an art shop near Catalina’s favorite café.

Currently, she was making her way to the store. With the other queens out of the house, there was no one to be suspicious of her absence or question where she’d gone. With Anna and Kat were going out on a date to celebrate Anna’s birthday and Catalina, Jane and Cathy going to watch a movie at the ladies’ house, Anne was free to finish the hat. Turning the hat over in her hands, she smiled. Cathy was gonna be so damn impressed.

Suddenly, a strong gust of wind blew past her. Stumbling, Anne threw her hands forwards to steady herself. The hat, now free from her hands, blew away into the wind. Yelping, she ran forwards to try and catch it, only to let out a short scream as she tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. Picking herself up, she looked around for the hat. Finally she spotted it.

On the top of a tree.

....Fuck

Groaning, Anne walked to the bottom of the tree to try and figure out how to climb it.

Because what else was she supposed to do?

Ask for help?

Anne would get beheaded again before that happened.

Glaring at the tree once more, she got to work.

-----------------------------------------

Pausing on a sturdy branch, Anne took a second to catch her breath. Rubbing her sore wrists, she risked a glance back towards the ground.

Huh.

She was a lot higher than she thought.

Oh well.

Sighing, Anne looked back up towards the hat. Just a bit more, then she’d be able to go finish the hat and pretend this whole ordeal never happened.

Left hand, right hand. Left foot, right foot. Left hand, right ha-

The branch snapped.

Oh shit.

Anne tumbled towards the ground with a scream. Her arms flew up to her cover her head as she raced towards the ground with a scream. Bracing for impact, she closed her eyes.

Anne hit the ground with a sickening snap.

Immediately, she was consumed by a blinding pain in her leg. Groaning, she tried to turn over, only to hiss in pain as a jolt of pain shot through her ribs. Laying back on her side, she slowly exhaled and waited for the pain to ease.

And waited.

After realizing nothing was gonna happen, she resigned herself to her fate. Inhaling deeply, she slowly sat up, hissing as pain shot through her ribs. Standing up, she balanced herself on her leg, gripping the tree for support. Exhaling shakily, she pulled her phone out to call a taxi.

-----------------------------------------

Anne looked through her phone, bored. She tried tapping her foot to emphasize how bored she was, only to remember it was in a cast. After getting checked out, she’d found out her leg was broken, along with two of her ribs. Sighing, she put her phone down and stared at the ceiling. She’d hopped that perhaps the hat had fallen when she had, but no, it was still stuck on the tree. That goddamned tree.

Hearing her text tone go off, she picked her phone up.

Janey: Where are you?

Janey: Why aren’t you home?

Oh. Had the queens gotten home already? Fuck, this wasn’t gonna be fun to explain.

Anne: get on the gc. get the othr queens there too

Janey: ???

Anne: just do it

Queens:

Lina: what is it anne?

Kitty-Kat: where u @

Bo: Queens, i have gathered you all today to make an announcement

GamerGirl: ??

Bo: i am

Cathy P: yes?

Bo: ✨in the hospital ✨

Several people are typing...

Anne placed her phone down as it blew up with texts, grinning at the chaos that was inevitably taking place in the queen household.

Bo: its the hospital near the mall

Bo: btw im not dying

Bo: but also hurry up and get here im bored

Smiling, Anne laid back down on the bed. This should be entertaining.

-----------------------------------------

“Anne!”

“Annie!”

“What on earth did you do?!”

“Bo!”

“Anne Boleyn!”

Anne grinned sheepishly at the queens standing in the doorway.

“Hi”

The queens all situated themselves near Anne. Jane and Anna both pulled a chair up, Catalina sat at the foot of her bed, Cathy sat next to Anne, and Kat situated herself in Anna’s lap.

“Are you ok!?”

“What happened?”

“Did you do something dumb like fight a raccoon?”

“Anna!”

Anna shrunk down in her seat at the seething glare Cathy and Catalina sent her. Kat snickered quietly as Jane facepalmed at her shenanigans. Anne rolled her eyes. “Yeah totally. A raccoon broke two of my ribs, broke my leg, and cracked two more of my ribs,”

A stunned silence followed her retort. Looking up, she grimaced at the horrified looks on the queens faces.

“Fell out of a tree,”

“......”

“Anne, I mean this in the nicest possible way, but what the fuck,”

Anne flipped Anna off, earning her a fake gasp from the latter. Kat however, didn’t seem keen on dropping the topic.

“Why were you in a tree anyways?”

Anne weighed her options carefully. If she told the truth, the surprise would be ruined for Cathy and Kat and Anna would call her a simp for the rest of their reincarnated lives. Jane and Lina might not overly react, but it wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

Steeling her mind, Anne made her answer.

“Felt like climbing a tree,”

As the room devolved into chaos, Anne knew one thing: she’d get that hat back or die trying. And knowing Anne, it would probably be the latter.

Oh well.

#six the musical #six queens #six #anne boleyn #catherine parr #catherine of aragon #katherine howard #jane seymour #anna of cleves #anne is gremlin #the kids are back #tkab #six fanfiction #six the musical fanfiction #parrleyn #parrlyn #katanna #fanfiction

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thiswasinevitableid · 3 years

Note

For a writing prompt, Indruck post apocalyptic au (preferably everyone is human?) Indrid is infected by some sort of alien parasite, and the only way they can save him is to cut it out of him without anesthesia? Feel free to be as graphic as you want, but if it’s too whumpy for you, no pressure to write it! Thanks as always!

Here you go! It’s mid-level graphic: if it were a movie, you wouldn’t be seeing guts everywhere, but you would see the wounds. Also, content warning for body horror, namely the kind where a fungus takes over your body, and referenced suicide (no suicide actually occurs, don’t worry)

He should have seen it coming.

The tell-tale dampness and smell in the air, like battery acid and rotten milk, the fact that he’d made it the whole trip without seeing any Mycilioptera (that was, according to Joseph, the scientific term for the for the cat-sized, skittering alien creatures looking for someone to sting).

The creature was on him with a droning, high whine, scratching his face, smearing stinging mucus across his eyes and mouth. He made a rookie error, following his instinct to rip off the the substance dulling his senses, rather than feel sweep his arms over his body, locate the creature, and hurl it as far away as he could.

When the stinger hit his stomach, he screamed. The noise was useless; this quadrant of the city was abandoned months ago. He collapsed to the ground, clutching his sides as the pain seeps through them. His eyes cleared enough that he forced his fingers to work, grip the handle of his hatchet, and cleave it with a crunch.

Now, clutching the steering wheel of the Winnebago (in this world you do not need a fast car; you need something with thick sides and room for supplies and friends), he knows there are only two ways this can go.

If he is lucky, the parasite will be slow acting enough and he will stay lucid enough to reach the ranch in time for someone to remove it.

If he is unlucky, he will run out of time, and the parasite will take control of his body, manipulate him zombie-like to an advantageous location, and burst from his chest, mouth, and eyes in milky-white stalks, sending spores into the air, which will either grow in to adults or be inhaled by any other humans in a two mile radius, subjecting them to a prolonged version of Indrid’s fate.

He leans on the gas pedal, hurtling down the empty backroad. They found an abandoned, un-pilfered gas station and filled all the vehicles, with some left over for scouting and supply runs. And, if it came to it, an escape.

From the passenger seat, his backpack meows. A familiar black and brown head pokes out, the ratty collar still reading “Winnie.” Winnie, the reason he ran into that abandoned parking garage during a salvage mission in the first place.

Because she’s Duck’s cat, the one he thought he’d never see again after she fled out the door when the city evacuated. And Indrid loves Duck Newton more than anything in the world.

They’d been friends before everything went to hell, inching towards a confession of deeper feeling and Indrid still remembers the way his heart felt when he spotted Duck at the evac staging shelter. He hadn't even opened his mouth when Duck was hugging him, holding him tight and saying he was so fucking glad he was okay.

When three, then five, then ten infected humans burst in the evac center, Duck had Indrid’s hand they were running before almost anyone else knew what was happening, bandanas over their mouths because Josephs last message before the cell towers were overloaded was to keep their noses and mouths covered.

They made it, against all odds, out into the countryside, Thacker’s Quonset hut and Mama’s farmhouse as safe as they’d hoped. The others trickled in one by one or two by two; sometimes bringing other survivors with them. Other survivors found them later, though the humans they saw became fewer and fewer with each day.

Mama took in everyone who wasn’t infected, while Joseph, Dani, Duck and Thacker operated and sewed up the infected who could be saved (if removed before it takes over the host, the parasite will die when exposed to air). Those who could not were given choices; most chose a swift death, especially when they learned that dying before the parasites emerged would kill the alien inside them.

And every night, Indrid and Duck shared a small bed, clinging to each other and telling jokes or stories until they could sleep. Two months in, Duck kissed him in the dark and Indrid kissed back, and when Duck asked if it was only the end of the world driving Indrid’s affection, Indrid shook his head

“I’ve wanted this for awhile. And I don’t know what’s coming. All I know is I want to be with you when it does.”

At the front of the Winnebago Indrid wipes his eyes; what a foolish thing to say. He doesn’t want Duck here for this, that’s for damn sure, and yet he drives towards him anyway,

He’s feverish, sweat running down his face and arms shaking, and while his veins are still blue, he can see the parasite rippling under his skin; it’s not wasting any time.

He’s not going to make it. And if he tries, he’ll put all his friends in danger

There’s no choice but to pull to the side of the road a few miles from the farm and step from the trailer, leaving the door ajar so Winnie can escape into the wild. He’s crying all the while, breath coming in shaky gasps; just because he’s doing the right thing doesn’t mean he isn’t miserable and terrified.

Indrid pulls out his pistol. He won’t be an incubator, he won’t spread this, he won’t help the things that took so much of his world from him.

He won’t ever see Duck again.

He sobs, once, then wretches as the fever grows and his vision goes spotty. He has to do this, even though every time he looks at the weapon his whole body shakes with fear.

“‘Drid!”

Duck’s voice, just audible over the thrum of an engine. Then tires screech into view, Aubrey piloting a jeep. Duck jumps to the ground before she’s even stopped.

“‘Drid, don’t you fuckin dare-”

“Nono, stay back!” He scrambles on his hands and heels, slamming into the side of the trailer, “I got stung, I already have a fever, I can feel it moving-”

Duck drops to his knees, lifting Indrid’s glasses.

“Your eyes are still brown. It ain’t too late.”

“But the veins near the wound are going white” Joseph stands behind Duck, “we won’t be able to get him back in time.”

“Th-that’s why I pulled over, I, I can’t get the rest of you infected, please, please just go-”

“You got the field kit?”

Aubrey tosses it to Duck.

“We can still save you, sugar. And I’m sure as hell gonna fuckin try.”

Duck and Joseph haul him to his feet and carry him inside, laying him on his back on the table. Aubrey follows him, sitting down on one bench and taking his hand.

“We got no anesthetic, so this is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, but you can do it. Okay?”

Indrid nods weakly.

“We’re gonna get you through this. You’re” fear flickers across Duck’s face, “you’re gonna be okay.”

Aubrey braces Indrid’s upper body, Joseph his lower, as Duck cleans around the puncture in his stomach and sterilizes his tools. Aubrey holds up a hand,

“We need something for your mouth, right?”

“Good call” Duck retrieves a wooden spoon from a drawer, setting it between Indrid’s teeth.

“Okay” Duck takes a deep breath, meets Indrids eyes, “okay. I’m gonna start cuttin. Ready?”

Indrid just manages a thumbs up.

It hurts, because a blade cutting into your skin will always hurt. And because it hurts Indrid screams.

“That’s good” Joseph is trying to sound reassuring, but even he looks worried, “scream if you need to, research suggests it helps with the pain.”

“It’s not too deep, thank fuckin christ.”

Indrid stares at the ceiling and yells when Duck widens the incision.

“Almost can see ‘im. Yeah, there, he’s startin to shrivel already from the air.”

Relief mingles with the pain in his tears. Aubrey pets his head, “you’re gonna be okay, see?”

“C’mere you, you fuckin monster, you fuckin think you can take him from me” Duck hisses, then says gruffly, “Joe, need you to hold it open, go wash your hands.”

Once Joe is in position, there’s a horrible, wet sound as Duck places his hand inside.

Searing, blinding pain as he pulls the parasite free, Indrid’s blood running down Duck’s arms. He bites the wooden handle and it cracks. The creature wrinkles and dies in Duck’s hands and he hurls it outside.

“Shit, shit you’re bleeding a lot. Okay, fuck, okay, that was the hard part, this is just stitches. Just stitches.”

Indrid whimpers, clinging to Aubrey’s hand and scraping his nails against the formica table. Duck hits too deep on a stitch and Indrid winces and cries as his boyfriend curses.

“Here, Duck, trade with me.” Joe holds out his hand and Duck passes him the needle. The shorter man settles by Indrid, taking his other hand. He’s still bloodstained, and Indrid can feel him shaking, but he brings Indrid’s knuckles to his mouth and kisses his knuckles again and again.

“I’m here, darlin, I’m here, I got you, it’s almost over.”

Indrid focuses on his voice, pretends they’re in bed together, counts the kisses on his hand and wrist while the pain fades to the background. Dimly, around kiss number thirty-five, he hears Joseph sigh in relief.

“Done.”

--------------------------------------------------

Indrid curls up under the covers, clothes sticking to him with sweat and his stomach throbbing with pain.

“Easy, sugar, easy” Duck sits up from a makeshift bed on the floor, “here, lemme get you some painkillers.” He comes back with a glass of water and two white pills. Indrid swallows them, lets Duck help him from his shirt and wipe the sweat away with a cloth.

“How did you know to come look for me?”

“Just had a feelin. I kept lookin out at the road, saw the ‘Bago weavin, goin a million miles an hour, and just knew somethin was wrong.”

“Thank you. For coming for me.”

“I always will. Thanks for not deckin me or kickin me while I was workin on you.”

“Duck you saved my life, kicking would be rather rude.”

It’s a weak goof, but Duck smiles and kisses him.

“Oh, uh, here, someone else wants to say thanks.”

“Mraoow?” Winnie stares at him from Duck’s arms.

“We scared her burstin into the trailer. Poked her head out right after you passed out. So you, uh, missed me bawlin like a baby seein her again.”

“Awwww” Indrid rests his head on Duck’s shoulder, ruffling Winnie’s fluff.

“I mean, that and it hit me how close I came to losin you. Poor Aubrey was tryin to comfort me in the Jeep while Joe drove you back here in the ’Bago.”

Indrid strokes his cheek. He understands; the thought of never seeing Duck again was the worst thing to happen to him all day, sting included.

“Come to bed?”

“You sure? Might not be too comfortable.”

“I want to be held by you. I want to remember we’re both still here.”

Duck joins him under the blanket, Winnie curling up on their feet.

“Yeah, yeah we are. And I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you too. And I promise to cut a parasite out of you if the need arises.”

“God I fuckin hope not.”

“Me too. There were...fewer of them this time. I think they may be dwindling.”

“Fingers crossed. But even if we got a long ways to go towards rebuildin a world, I still got you, and you still got me. And that’s worth a whole hell of a lot.”

Indrid kisses him, inhaling the smell of clean skin and scratching his cheek against Duck’s stubble.

“You’re right, my love. It is.”

#indruck #indrid cold/duck newton #taz amnesty #whump #reader requests #post apocalyptic au #body horror

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ateezmakemeweep · 4 years

Text

tree swing.

mingi x reader; enemies to lovers au

word count: 10k

angst, fluff, smut

age 7:

the first time you met mingi, you both ended up with bloody noses and you had only known each other for fifteen minutes. a moving van was backed into the driveway of your new home, boxes of furniture being transported while you snuck away from your duties and opened the white gate to the backyard.

it was beautiful and spacious, a lot bigger than your old backyard with a multitude of trees and flowers and shrubbery. one swing hung from a branch, just a small piece of wood being held up by rope and you eyed it warily before sucking it up and taking a seat.

you barely moved your feet as you sat there, observing the back of the house and noting one of the rooms had a balcony attached to it. while you swung lightly, you secretly hoped your parents would allow you to have that room. you loved the idea of being able to read out there during the day or watch the stars at night.

you hadn’t even wanted to move in the first place. you loved your old school and you loved your old house. you were a part of a group of best friends you’d known since you were five who had all recently decided to join a dance team together. you were so excited to start doing it with them, all of you practicing in the same light purple room you had grown up in since you were a baby.

but then your parents broke the news to you that you’d be moving in the middle of the summer and you don’t think you’ve ever cried so much in your life.

“it’s not fair!” you screamed at them through your tears and it hurt them to see you so sad. you begged and pleaded and cried some more even though you knew your efforts were a waste.

the clattering of your gate opening rips you from your memories, head snapping toward it as a tall boy, probably around your age, stomps toward you. his arms were folded and he had a sour expression on his face, planting himself right in front of you and staring down at you.

“uh hi…” you said, although it sounded a lot more like a question. “who are you?”

you didn’t like the look on his face. he looked grouchy and ready to beat you up.

“i live next-door,” he stated matter of factly, his tone bratty like you should’ve already known that information about him, “and who are you?”

you give him a suspicious look, unsure as to why he’s being so hostile to you and asking who you are in your own backyard. “i live here now,” you grumble, just as displeased as he appears to be about it.

he scoffs and rolls his eyes, almost as if you’d said the wrong thing, observing your face before the rest of your small body. “do you at least have a brother?” he spats and you look at him confused.

“what?”

“i said do you at least have a brother!” he repeats, voice raising and you feel your eyebrows shoot up to your forehead.

“why are you yelling at me, i don’t even know you, you weirdo.”

“because you made my best friend leave! this used to be his house and now you and your stupid family are here and he’s gone!”

you feel anger flood through your body at this dumb boy. he doesn’t know you or your family and you’re not stupid.

“we’re not stupid,” you spat right back, “if anything, you are for thinking i forced your friend out. maybe he left because he had to live next to you.

“no!” the boy says.

“i think so,” you say, forcing your head towards him to stick your tongue out. due to your movement and, as if you were being punished for your immaturity, the swing wobbles underneath you and a little screech leaves the back of your throat. you quickly grab onto the rope, knuckles white from your tight grasp and you hear mingi let out a snort in front of you.

“you’re such a baby,” he says, “what, are you scared of that swing? hongjoong’s dad put it up himself and he wasn’t scared.”

“i’m not scared, it just surprised me,” you spit back at him, silently cursing whoever hongjoong’s dad is for putting up such a scary and poorly built swing.

“yeah, right, you’re scared.”

“no i’m not! shut up!”

“oh yeah?” he teases back, “if you’re not scared, then why weren’t you swinging higher when i came back here?”

you squint your eyes at him, cold fear flooding through you because maybe this boy isn’t as dumb as he looks.

“because i didn’t feel like it,” you tell him, attitude in your voice even though you know your argument is weak.

a devilish look crosses the boy’s face, his lips turning from a scowl to a smile for the first time as he quickly walks behind you.

“what are you doi-“

you’re about to jump off, not trusting him back there before you feel him grip the wooden seat and pull it back.

“it’s okay, i can just push you since you’re so lazy!” he tells you, dropping the swing from his hold.

you start screeching in fear as you get flung into the air. the seat and ropes wobble slightly as he pushes you fastly, your body getting farther and farther away from the ground.

“stop it!”

“but why?” his teasing voice says from behind you, “you’re not scared, right?”

you can’t answer as another scream tears through you, your palms red and chafed from holding the ropes so tight.

“isn’t this fun!” he says gleefully, a laugh that sounds evil to your ears ringing through the yard.

“stop! i’m gonna fall!” you scream, the wood wobbling even more underneath your right butt check.

“no you’re not, you big baby!”

“yes i am, you idiot!”

the swing is too high for him to reach the seat, his hand now on your back as he continues to push you even higher. he’s still gleefully laughing, watching how high you are now and is genuinely not believing you’re in any danger at all. him and hongjoong used to do this all the time, swinging and pushing each other for hours and nothing bad had ever-

“ah, stop stop stop! im going to-“

and before he can even comprehend what’s going on, you fall off the swing.

or fly off rather.

because you soar what seems like 100 feet in the air (probably only really 5 or 6), screaming and on the verge of tears the entire time.

you knew this was gonna happen, you just knew it the second that big idiot started pushing you, so you braced yourself, attempting to position your legs so your feet could land on the ground; but the second they touch the floor, your ankles buckle and you tumble in the grass before you smack your face on the side of the gardening box.

you scream out in pain, holding your hand over you bloody nose as you cry because that really really hurt and you told him to stop pushing you.

you faintly hear footsteps running toward you before a hand pulls you on to your back. the boy is looking down at you in shock, his mouth gaping open and his eyes full of fear. probably fear that you’re gonna tell on him and not fear for your well-being.

“are you- that-oh my god,-i…that never happened before with hongjoong,” are the words that finally tumble out of his mouth and the anger burning in your chest and the need to scream at him outweighs the pounding pain in your face.

“i told you to stop!” you screeched, putting your hand on his chest to push him back onto his butt so you can sit up, “why wouldn’t you stop! i told you i was gonna fall off!”

“i didn’t think you were serious! me and hongjoong did it all the time and we never fell off.”

you shoot him a dirty look, glaring at him as you switch hands because your current one is covered in blood. he watches you warily, feeling queasy from the red liquid and wants more than anything to jump up and away from you. but he already knows he’s gonna be in so much trouble and leaving you would only make it worse.

“you’re so dumb,” you sneer at him, your voice nasally as you plug your nose, “it hurts so bad!”

“you’re just a baby,” he says defensively even though he knows how much that’s probably hurting right now. but instead, because there’s a burning anger in him at you calling him dumb again, he decides to say:

“maybe you should eat less or something. then you wouldn’t have broken the swing.”

and that’s when you really lose it and see red.

you rip your hand away from your face and tackle the boy, beating his chest and neck and arms with your tiny little fists and now it’s his turn to scream.

“get-get off me!”

you’re able to get a few good hits in before he uses his size against you and pushes you onto your back, both his hands holding your wrists down so you don’t smack him again. he sees the anger burning in your eyes and it scares him more than your lousy attempt at physically harming him.

“you’re crazy!”

“and you’re a bully!”

he peers down at you skeptically, looking at your bloody face and maybe feeling a twinge of regret and sympathy for you. because you really did go flying high. and you did tell him to stop.

“i didn’t think that would happen! i’m-“

before he can get his words out, because you really don’t care what they are, you lift your neck up and headbutt him. he makes a loud, pained groan when your head cracks against his and he falls onto his back. he feels liquid ooze out of his nose as you stand over him, your own blood now dripping down your lips and chin.

you’re about to spit some nasty comment at him about how does that feel when the four adults finally come rushing out from of backdoor, seeing mingi on the floor and you looming over him both of you with blood oozing out of your noses.

“y/n! what on earth happened!” your mom squeals, rushing over to check your face before helping mingi up.

“she’s crazy!” he screams, backing away from you as he rubs his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, “she headbutt me!”

“he started it!” you scream back, pointing at him, “he pushed me too high on the swing and i fell off!” you explain, both of you staring at one another with hatred and fury in your eyes. the four parents eyes move to the tree swing where the wood plank is hanging off from one side.

“mingi!”” you hear a woman scold, rushing over to him and smacking him on the side of the head, “i always told you and hongjoong that swing was dangerous!”

“she’s just a baby, mom! nothing ever happened when me and him did that!” the boy whines to his mom.

“until now!” you scream at him, the pain in your face causing you to get more and more agitated, “i told you to stop and you didn’t!”

“this wouldn’t have happened if you just didn’t move here in the first place!” he screams back and the two moms grab you both, separating you by a good few feet. they both scold you, telling you to apologize and stop screaming but neither of you are having it.

“i’m not saying sorry to that idiot!” you tell your mom as stomp your foot.

“no! she’s crazy and mean and i wish she never moved here!” mingi screams dramatically, giving you one more nasty look before running out of your backyard.

his parents apologize to you, insisting he’ll be over later to formally say sorry before they say goodbye to your parents and follow after their son.

your dad walks over with wipes and tissues and together, your parents clean your face as they ask you for the full story. and that’s when you cry and break down about how much you hate it here already. how badly you despise him and how much your face hurts because he’s so stupid and doesn’t know how to listen.

and so, out of an act of sympathy, after explaining to you that you can’t go around head-butting any more people, you parents give you the room with a balcony.

age 11:

the animosity between you and mingi was only something that grew worse over time. because not only did you have to see each other at home but you also had to see each other at school as well. and when his elusive friend hongjoong moved back to school last year, his obnoxious friend group rose to a whopping total of eight.

you hated each and every one of them but he was by far the worst. because if he wasn’t stealing your pencils or hiding your backpack, he was pulling your hair and spreading rumors that you still wet the bed.

(but of course, you weren’t entirely innocent either. because you did blurt out that he farted in front of the whole class when a foul smell came in from the hallway).

your teachers and friends and parents have long given up on trying to have you two make amends, simply keeping you separate at all times in the classroom or at conjoined sunday dinners.

but the lunchroom and playground is really when you two would go at it.

because whether it was with tag or kickball or basketball, you two were always at each other throats. and it was a considered a good, peaceful day if one of you didn’t steal something from each other’s lunch box.

today, however, wasn’t that kind of day.

because the second you unlatched your yellow lunchbox and took out your caprisun, a long lanky arm reached from behind you and snatched it right out of your hand.

“fruit punch today!” he said, punching your arm lightly as he said the word, “my favorite!”

he scurried away from you quickly, knowing you were gonna be behind him any minute chasing after him.

you let out an exasperated sigh, not in the mood to deal with him because you’ve been having so much pain in your stomach lately and he’s the last person you want to see; but regardless, you jump out of your seat and stomp after him because fruit punch is also your favorite.

“can you stop being annoying for once in your life,” you say from behind him, pushing him even though he doesn’t budge.

he turns around and looks down at you and it makes you angry because he will not stop growing. he’s always towered over you, using it to your advantage during every physical altercation between you two (so at least once a day) but now it’s just getting out of control.

“can you stop being annoying for once in your life,” he mimics back annoyingly, holding the pouch up over his head and giving you a smug look.

“a shame your body keeps growing even though your brain hasn’t started,” you snap at him before pinching the side of his stomach, “now give it back!”

“i don’t think so,” he says coyly, shaking his head from side to side, “that was mean of you.”

“it’s nothing but the truth,” you say to him while jumping up, attempting to reach for it.

his friends watch the encounter from their seats and giggle into one another before mingi throws the drink to an awaiting wooyoung from across the room.

“no!” you say to him, smacking his arm before scurrying over to the table. but as you approach wooyoung, he shoots you a big smile before throwing it back to mingi, making you the very pissed off monkey in the middle.

you stomp back over to mingi who throws it back to wooyoung and you kick him in the shin. he lets out an “ouch!” bending over to rub it and now he’s at your eye level. he sees that familiar fire in your eyes and smirks because it’s just too easy.

“what happened, y/n?” he asks, “you look angry at me.”

you squint your eyes at him, balling your fists and pretending to punch him in the cheek. he flinches and flails upward causing you to scoff at him and roll your eyes.

“always such a baby,” you say to him, the venom in your tone causing him to smile sweetly.

“i’m the baby when you’re fighting me for your juice box,” he says, shaking his head at you.

“because it’s mine!” you squeal and would absolutely have stomped your foot if you were 7 years old again, “and it’s fruit punch! so shut up and give it back to me!”

“wooyoung has it now, go get it from him.”

“he’s not gonna give it to me!”

“oh c’mon, just go ask like a big girl,” he says to you, a fake sweet tone as he strokes your hair with his hand.

“don’t touch me,” you snap, moving your head away from him and side-eyeing him before regretfully going over to wooyoung.

“wooyoung, can you just-“ you begin to say as you walk over to him but he shakes his head, the giant smile still on his face before he throws to mingi and you hear that stupid laugh.

you groan at wooyoung, balling both your fists at him as if you’re gonna punch him before spinning around to see mingi stick the yellow straw through the caprisun and sip it happily.

you put your hand to your head as stress and anger and annoyance and all the usual feelings you associate with mingi flare through your body.

it’s like he lives to harass and bully and pick on you.

you stomp past him, shoving him even though his body doesn’t budge again as you grumble “you’re so dumb,” at him and he just laughs, watching you sit defeatedly at your table.

“he’s such a big dumb idiot, i swear,” you rant to your friend sitting across from you.

“do you want my drink?” she offers kindly and you smile at her, shaking your head but thanking her.

“he really is so tall,” your other friend chimes in, “and like…kind of cute?”

your neck snaps up, your fast twisted in disgust. “are you blind!”

“oh, my gosh thank god you said something,” the friend across from you says, “i thought the same thing.”

“right!” she screeches back, “his face is cute too and he’s so-“

“are you two out of your minds!” you interrupt with a squeal, “you know and see what he puts me through everyday!”

“okay yeah but that’s just how you guys are,” your friend says offhandedly.

“exactly! just a mingi and y/n thing,” the other girl says as if she just said something as obvious as 2+2.

“oh, my god, i can’t believe you two right now,” you grumble as you open your sandwich, keeping it low because now you’re on edge that another thing will be stolen.

the two girls giggle, looking at each other knowingly before an empty caprisun is dropped on the table between all of you.

you turn around, cheeks full of bread and cheese and you roll your eyes as you see mingi’s retreating back, his neck twisting to throw a smirk at you.

“he’s the worst, don’t ever say those things again!” you whine after swallowing your food and your friends just innocently shrug causing you to scoff and finish eating as they laugh at your distress.

the lunch monitor blows her whistle 15 minutes later, indicating for everyone to throw out their garbage and head outside for recess. you and your friends scurry up and out, rushing to get one of the six kickballs that’s left outside on a first come first served basis.

you’re able to snag one up and you three run happily to the field, waiting for others to join you and your smile drops when you see mingi and his clan approaching.

“not you, again,” you whine but the boy just waves his fingers at you as the rest of the boys play rock paper scissors to decide who’s on the girl team.

it was a known thing that you and mingi couldnt’t be one the same team, an activity in gym class gone horribly wrong that traumatized a veteren teacher and set up an unspoken rule to eveyone to never allow you two to work together ever again.

“we’re due for a rematch,” he tells you, “no cheating this time, little one.”

your eyes squint at the nickname before some of the boys come over and you’re happy to see wooyoung is not one of them.

“we didn’t cheat you sore loser,” you snap at him and his head shakes as he rolls his eyes.

“whatever liar, let’s go!”

you’re surprised when the game is actually going well, a friendly competitive energy between all of you and you’re even more shocked to be finding the boys funny as they goofily run and yell at each other. san trips on his shoelace causing the sandy dust to get all over the pants jongho let him borrow; the boy nearly forfeits the game just so he can properly beat up his own teammate.

as you’re standing on first base, mingi only a few feet away desperately awaiting to get you out, you hear a gasp followed by a high-pitched voice from behind you.

you recognize it as a girl in your grade who’s notorious for being a real bully, mean and catty and obnoxious to her friends and even the teachers. you’ve never outright had a problem with her, you’re not even sure you’ve ever spoken a word to her so you don’t understand why she decided to publically announce:

“y/n, there’s blood on your pants, oh my god! y/n got her period!” she nearly screams, everyone around you guys stopping and turning to look at you. you quickly turn around so your back is away from her, arms folding behind you and covering your butt instinctively.

“what are you talking about?” you ask her because you don’t know why she would say that.

“there’s blood on your pants,” she says to you, amusement in her tone, “ew, i can’t believe you just got your period!”

you obviously knew what a period was, your whole class had just taken a health class in the beginning of the year to learn about periods and sex and puberty. but your teacher said most girls get it at age 12 or 13 and you’re stil only 11 so she must lying. and why is she saying ew anyway? it’s not like she won’t get hers either.

“i don’t think so!” you say, trying not to let your voice waver because either way, this is so embarrassing, “i slid on the floor before, it’s probably just dirt.”

you try to crane your neck back to check but you can’t see, feeling nervousness and anxiety flood through you. why would anyone do this to someone?

you feel a presence behind you and you turn your head again to see your friend staring at you with sympathy, kind eyes and a soft voice when she says quietly, “i-i think it is blood.”

you swallow the lump in your throat and mingi watches your eyes promptly fill with tears and the feeling that rips through him is something he’s never experienced before. you and his friends and his parents and his teachers have made him angry more times than he can count but this felt…different.

it was like this deep need to protect you and shield you away from everyone staring at you, some people looking on with sympathy or confusion while others were outright laughing and pointing. he doesn’t even realize he’s up in this girl’s face until he sees her wide eyes staring back at him in fear.

“what is wrong with you,” he says and he doesn’t recognize his own voice. it’s so low and quiet and almost…threatening. “get away now,” he growls and the girl just smirks, running her mouth so she doesn’t have to face the fact that she is kind of scared right now.

“why? i wanna see the show. this is funny”

“there’s no show and nothing’s funny,” mingi growls, inching forward again and this time his sole purpose is too intimidate her. he’d never really hit a girl to harm her but the evilness behind her actions kind of has him wishing he could. “i’m warning you, go,” he says through his teeth.

the terror in her eyes grows and she huffs out a “whatever” before turning and sauntering away.

he sees three other girls peeking over at you nosily and stares them down, harshly mumbling “get lost” before they too go off in another direction.

you see mingi making his way over and you’re too dazed and upset to see the anger in his eyes. you don’t know if you’re about to sprint away or cry or yell at him because you don’t need him making fun of you right now. you’re already humiliated and embarrassed and never wanna go to school again and-

mingi’s figure appears right in front of you and you swallow down the lump in your throat, cheeks red and eyes teary and you open your mouth to tell him to just go away when he starts to unzip his sweatshirt speedily. a confused expression covers your face as he takes it off and holds it in both hands before he wraps his arms around your waist. you fall stiff as he ties the sweatshirt arms together, securing it around you to successfully cover the stain.

you look up to meet his gaze and you’ve never seen his eyes look like this before, gentle and kind and soft and you don’t think you would know what to do or say even if you were in the right head space.

you sniffle and rub at a stupid tiny, stray tear running down your face and a tiny pout forms on his mouth when he notices it. he stares down at you for a few more seconds, something in his heart shifting and hurting for you and he hears a voice in his head screaming at him not to leave you.

you watch as his eyes roam over your face and you don’t know why you find yourself not being able to look away, the intensity of the moment something you’re both still too young to understand.

the quietest whisper of “it’s okay,” falls from his lips, looking from your eyes to your quivering lip back to your eyes until he abruptly turns and walks away.

you find yourself questioning if he even actually said anything now because his voice was so…soft and low. so different than his normal voice.

“bring her to the nurse,” mingi tells your friend before rallying up the boys to set up new teams for kickball.��

you go to the nurse in a daze and she calls your mom to come pick you up. she buys you pizza and ice cream before bringing you home and you spend some time in your room, aimlessly watching tv and trying not to think about the sweatshirt that’s currently hanging on your desk chair.

you go over and run your hands over the soft fabric, your mind running back to how different mingi was and, despite yourself, you feel yourself smiling.

because maybe he isn’t too bad after all.

he’s not cute. no, not at all. you don’t think he’s cute.

but at least, you think, he could be kind of nice.

you knock on his door four hours later, sweatshirt in hand and a flush on your cheeks because you’re not sure if he’s gonna maybe say something now. make fun of you for bleeding through your pants or look at the sweatshirt in disgust or throw it in your face that you cried at school.

but he just simply opens the door and smiles a little when he sees you, taking the sweatshirt from you silently as you play with your hands nervously.

there’s a few seconds of awkward silenced until you blurt out, “tha-thank you,” and you wanna cringe when you hear yourself stutter, “you didn’t have to do that and it’s uh- i...i’m-“

“do you want an oreo?” he suddenly asks and you just notice now that he has three of them stacked on top of one another in his free hand.

you look at him skeptically, turning your head to the side and eyeing the cookies in his hands.

“uh okay…” you say because they do look pretty good.

“well, too bad,” he tells you before slamming the door in your face and you look at the yellow paint in shock.

it takes you a few seconds to register what he just did, your fist then banging on his door because you still see his figure lingering through the glass. “hey! you can’t just offer one and then not give me it!”

he cracks open the door, just enough for the upper half of his face to be visible and you see that usual playful, annoying glint back in his eyes.

“i can and i just did,” he says matter of factly, taking a bite of the cookie before slamming the door in your face again and this time, you see him walk off.

you huff and stomp down the stairs, taking back your thoughts from earlier that maybe he was becoming a nice boy.

age 16:

"this is all your fucking fault!" you whisper to mingi from your chair, staring at him with the dirtiest look you can muster.

"my fault? how is this my fault?" he says back through clenched teeth, "you're the idiot who doesn't know when to shut her mouth.”

"how can i when you always have some stupid shit to say-“

the door cracks open, your balding teacher eyeing you both through the conjoined doorway and you snap your mouth shut.

"hello, sir," mingi says and you can hear the sarcasm in his tone, "deciding to let me go so this one can rot in here where she belongs?”

the man just rolls his eyes, putting a finger to his lip before slamming the door shut.

you two are the only ones in detention on a disgustingly hot and sticky friday afternoon, a debate in history turned volatile causing you both to drop a ridiculous amount of f-bombs to one another and in turn earning you both this punishment.

the teacher next door is holding an extra help session for students while simultaneously covering the detention shift; you guys could probably leave, sneaking out and blaming weak bladders or a family emergency but you certainly don't wanna get caught.

because that would mean a weeks worth of dententions with each other and that’s not a risk either one of you are willing to take.

"if anyone's rotting away here, it's you," you sneer at him, rolling your eyes and leaning your head down on the desk.

"aw, are you tired little one?" he coos at you, tone sickeningly sweet as he gets up and makes his way over to you.

that obnoxious nickname has stuck since middle school and you wanna scream every time he uses it. everyone thought as you guys grew up that your rivalry would've fizzled out or even ended but it's almost as if it was enhanced.

it went from hair pulling and stealing your notebook to throwing you over his shoulder and poking your back or stomach when he sat near you in class.

it was worse when you were home though. because your once safe haven, the balcony with twinkle lights and purple furniture and a little pot of pink roses, was tarnished the second mingi's older brother moved out for college. the youngest song sibling snatched the room right up, now giving him more opportunities to disturb your reading or gardening time with his obnoxious singing and constant pestering.

"are you ever gonna stop calling me that?" you growl at him as he leans against the teachers desk right in front of you.

"now, why would i do that?" the boy asks, his arms leaning back on the wooden surface and you wish with everything in you that he wasn't growing up to be an attractive man. the way his body was arched back, broad shoulders on display, head turned to the side with a quizzical look in his shining brown eyes.

it was an honest to god shame he was so damn irritating.

"because it's annoying and-," you begin but he just rolls his eyes, cutting you off with a “sh” before walking up to the board and grabbing a piece of chalk. you watch him draw a game of hangman, putting 9 dashes underneath before turning to you with a smile.

"pick a letter.”

you cross your arms and roll your eyes, "really? are we in 4th grade again?”

"do you have no other ideas?" he snaps at you, "or do you just wanna sit here and sleep like a lazy bum?”

you resist the urge to growl under your breath before muttering “a.”

he draws the head of the stick figure.

“e."

_ _ _ _ _ e _ _ e

“i."

_ i _ _ _ e _ _ e

“o."

_ i _ _ _ e o _ e

you squint your eyes at him, shaking your head at the shitting eating grin on his face.

"c'mon, what else? how 'bout another vowel?”

"fuck off, i can pick whatever i want" you say, “t."

_ i t t _ e _ _ e

you jump up out of your chair, pushing him to the side with all your might and grabbing the eraser to wipe the chalk board clean. "you really are so fucking annoying," you snap at him.

mingi just smirks at you, watching you erase the letters and stick figure. you lift your arm to wipe the circle and other markings causing your shirt to lift, exposing a sliver of skin. his eyes travel down to it and he feels himself swallow when you jump to reach higher, your shirt raising even more as your hair bounces and cascades down your back.

he'd always found you cute, even when he was little and you headbutt him with blood and snot dripping down your face. but you were always so easy to rile up, so easy for him to get a reaction out of and it's something he's been trying to keep alive since then.

during the past couple of years, he’s found himself watching you when you weren't looking. how your body's matured, wide hips and toned thighs and thin waist from your time on the school's dance team.

your smile is his favorite though. it's rarely directed at him, your face almost always pinched into a pissed off scowl or annoyed sneer when he's around; but it's at the times when you do smile at him that leave him feeling giddy and nervous and fluttery, feelings he tries to shove into the back of his mind whenever they happen.

but now, with your shirt riding up and teeth in your lip as you concentrate, he can't help but watch you some more and is praying his stupid young male body doesn't react. but almost as if it’s out of his control, his feet start moving until he's pressed up right behind you, bending his head so his mouth is by your ear.

"you really are so fucking easy to rile up," he says, his tone a strange mix of playful and sultry; the boy doesn't even recognize his own voice.

your hand stops moving the second you feel him pressed up against you from behind, your breath catching in your throat and body stiffening. you swear you feel your knees wobble when he whispers in your ear, a reaction that truly feels beyond your control; he's just so big and warm and close to you, pressed up right against your back and you hate how immediate your reaction is. hate how much his voice and body are affecting you.

you're not sure what to do or say, feeling frozen against him but you know you have to snap out of this before he sees how bothered you are. dropping the eraser in your hand, you turn around so you're leaning against the chalk board. you look up at him and he's looking down at you, eyes with a playful glint but something...different in them as well.

something darker that you can't quite pinpoint.

"ever heard of personal space?" you quip, looking down at his body before meeting his eyes again and pushing him away slightly. you walk around him and sit on the edge of the teacher's desk, facing away from him and letting out a shaky breath.

"took you a while to find the words," he says from behind you and you can hear the smirk on his face.

"no," you snap immediately, craning your neck to side-eye him, "i just didn't expect your freakishly big body to be right up my ass.”

you hear his footsteps come near you until he's standing a few feet away from you and the look on his face is something you've never seen from him. something about it making you feel nervous but also a little...excited. and you hate that you're feeling this way.

because after years of the constant fighting and rivalry and back and forth, you can't allow your teenage hormones to get in the way right now.

but with how he's looking at you, the broadness of his shoulder, the way he's advancing toward you like he’s a predator and you're his pray really has your resolve slipping. and it's not like this is the first time you've felt this way but every other time, you were able to get away from him.

but right now, you're trapped. trapped in this room and under his gaze and in between his body.

"i think you're a little scared," he says, taking a few steps forward until he's standing right in between your legs. you feel yourself swallow, trying to stay calm but you don't know what the hell has made him so bold. maybe it’s the same thing that has you turning your head coyly to the side, your tongue peeking out to wet your bottom lip.

"of you?" you scoff, "that's funny. you’re forgetting that i know what a pussy you are.”

his eyes darken the second the words fall from your mouth and you feel your heart jump at the expression he makes. he moves his hand to your face, his thumb resting over your lips as if he's trying to silence you. he slowly drags his finger down to your bottom lip, flipping it down before it pops back into place as he continues it’s descend to your chin and neck.

of course, it's during that time that you swallow nervously and he can only smirk as he feels your neck twitch against his finger.

"is that so?" he asks and you divert eye contact, moving your neck slightly to look out the window because his hand on your hot skin is making you feel even more warm. he takes your jaw in his hold, snapping your head back to look at him and you've never seen his eyes so dark.

"answer me.”

your eyes widen and you wanna smack yourself when you feel something in your lower stomach tighten. you're trying so hard to remember that this is mingi, you're sworn enemy and obnoxious neighbor who gave your first bloody nose and stole your lunch on a regular basis.

but now as you stare at each other, you find your mind going blank. every rational thought is out of your head and your body just keeps...reacting.

"shut up," you say breathlessly, your eyes peering back at him and he sees the fire he's all too familiar with back.

"why are you always so feisty with me," he asks you, his hand squeezing your jaw lightly, “why can’t you just be good?”

"why do you always push my buttons." you growl back and you move your face in an attempt to get out of his hold.

but he just tightens his grip on it, moving even closer and bringing one arm down to rest his hand right on the edge of the table between your legs. it feels so close to you and the tightening in your stomach is back with a vengeance.

"because, little one, you make it so easy for me," he tells you honestly, lowly, and you attempt to move your face again.

he gives your jaw another squeeze, "stop moving," he says firmly, voice deep and authoritative and you feel something inside you burn.

you hate that you can't distinguish if it's with anger or desire.

you hate that you're thinking it's the latter.

and you're about to fight back, about to grit your teeth at him and tell him to stop telling you what to do. but then you think maybe that's what he wants. maybe he gets off on your backtalk and sneers and feistiness. so instead, you smile sweetly up at him.

"okay. sorry, mingi" you say softly, licking over you bottom lip again and you don't miss the way his eyes follow it. his eyes trail over your face and you smirk up at him when you see he's taken back.

"what...that's it?" he asks in disbelief, "no bratty comment? no yelling?”

you giggle softly, shaking your head at him and bringing your hand up to fix a piece of his messy dark hair. he watches you carefully, suspicious about your change of heart; his eyes then nearly bulge out of his head when you drag your nails through his hair, grazing his scalp lightly as you push your hands through it.

"no," you say softly, shaking your head, "why? do you like me being feisty? or would you like to see me when i'm on my best behavior?”

now he's the one swallowing, his dick twitching in his pants because he's never seen you like this. and a part of him knows this isn't you, that you're putting on an act for this very reaction but it's absolutely working.

"you better stop," he warns and the sweet look drops off your face, a smirk replacing it with the fire building back up behind your eyes.

"oh yeah? and why's that?" you ask, "only you're allowed to push buttons here?”

your hand is still behind his head, bunching up some of his hair as you slightly pull it. he harshly exhales through his nose and a little laugh bubbles out of your mouth.

you drag your hand back to the front of his hair, making a mess of it as you move your hand from his head to under his chin, scratching all the way down and over his adam's apple lightly. you watch in secret delight as it bobs when you make it all the way to the middle of his chest, moving his t-shirt slightly out of the way.

his breathing is now harsh and labored and you cant help but take pleasure in this.

"oh, mingi," you sigh, meeting his pained gaze and watching his chest take deep inhales and exhales, "you're making it so easy for me."

"y/n..." he says, voice choked and deep and you'd be absolutely lying if you said something didn't shoot right through your core upon hearing it.

you smirk as you look down, observing the way his bulge is prominent in his gray sweatpants. it should be making you feel anything but the intense desire coursing through your veins, spreading to all sorts of areas on your body.

"one might think you're looking like a pussy right about now, don't you think?" your voice then spats, "worked up from just some hair pulling and scratching.”

and before you barely get the last word out, you’re pushed back flat on the desk and it feels like the wind is knocked out of you even though you weren’t pushed that hard. his arms are on either side of you and he's peering down at you, eyes blazing with what you can only see now as pure lust and desire and a little bit of anger.

"oh yeah?" he snarls, bringing his one hand in between your legs again. he inches it closer and closer to your core and you feel all your power from earlier vanishing rapidly, “and what about you?”

"i...i don't know what you're talking about," you choke out and you both know it's a lie.

"oh no?" he hums and he brings his hand to your lower stomach, rubbing it along the waistband of your thin leggings and a choked, breathy sigh leaves your lips at the feeling shooting through you just a few inches lower.

"there it is," you hear him say and you wish you could say anything right now. wish you could curse at him or scream or hit him but you find yourself struggling not to buck your hips up towards his hand.

"do you know what i'd give to hear a moan from you, right now?" he says lowly in your ear as he watches you struggle to keep it together under his touch, “i wanna hear it so fucking badly, y/n, and i don’t know why.”

his confession alone almost leaves you fulfilling his wish.

"then make me," you tell him breathlessly, without thinking, solely in the interest of your own pleasure now.

his hand freezes on your waistband and you feel your cheeks flush when you realize what you just said. you can't believe the words that just left your mouth, admitting you're more than ready to let him have his way with you in a dirty hot classroom after hating him for years.

you open your mouth for an attempt at damage control before nearly screaming when his hand moves past the waistband of your leggings and right to the area that’s screaming to be relieved from the building pressure.

a straggled, low moan leaves his own mouth because your leggings are so thin that he can feel the wetness through your thong. he rubs his finger back and forth over you slowly, closing his eyes as his dick grows rock hard in his pants.

"fuck," you hear him whisper and your hips move ever so slightly on his hand at the way his deep voice sounds cursing.

"you drive me fucking crazy, y/n," he says harshly in your ear, "do you know that? you're driving me fucking crazy.”

"ugh, just shut up," you whine, not wanting to hear his dumb voice when his long fingers are so close to right where you desperately need them to be.

his hand automatically rips away from you and you nearly scream at him, head shooting up as your eyes burn into him.

"what are you doing?!" you say harshly to him, cheeks flushed, breathing labored and core throbbing as his hand comes up to your throat, pushing your head back down onto the desk.

"to answer your question from before, i’d prefer it when you're on your best behavior," he says as he looms over you and you squint your eyes at him in deviance.

"what, you want me to beg for you to rub my pussy when you started this in the first place?" you sneer at him now, sick and tired of his boldness and teasing, "maybe i'll go ask someone else in any manner i choose. i bet yunho would do it. have you seen his hands? he could definitely-“

his hand tightens around your neck and you let out a choked laugh, somehow knowing that would be the thing to get him worked up.

"watch your fucking mouth," he growls at you, immediately loosening his hold on your neck despite his dark eyes staring down at you.

you hate how much his sentence causes more wetness to pool in your lower half. you hate how much power he has over you right now. and you hate how much you love that this is currently the situation you’re in with him.

"then help me, mingi," you whine, not being able to take the throbbing anymore, "i...i need you but you're being so fucking annoying about it," you whine, taking his hand from your neck and putting it on your lower stomach.

you're about to swallow you pride and whine out a “please” until he sees the desperation and arousal in your eyes and feels something instinctual take over.

his hand dips into your leggings, moving down to rub over your thong and his cock strains hard against his pants when he feels how wet you are.

a tiny whine leaves the back of your throat as you try to move your hips toward his hand, your hand gripping the edge of the desk and he growls seeing you so submissive.

he drags his hand upward to the top of your underwear as he dips his hand in, his finger finally brushing over your wet clit and you muffle a moan with your hand.

"holyshit," you hear mingi mumble, his voice strained and deep, "baby, you're so wet.”

you're so focused on the way his finger is grazing your clit back and forth that you almost miss him call you baby but it makes your stomach flutter and another muffled moan leaves your mouth, your legs bending and widening and you’d feel a little disgusted with yourself if you weren’t so desperate for him and his long fingers.

he's taking his time with you, rubbing you slowly and hearing every muffled moan leave your mouth. he lowers his mouth to your ear, begging you in his strained deep voice to move your hand away from your mouth.

“i wanna hear your pretty moans, baby,” he tells you, “just keep ‘em quiet. can you do that for me?”

you think you’d do anything he asked of you right now so you nod and obediently remove your hand from your mouth, looking up at him with glossy eyes and your mouth falls open.

he hums in approval as he looks down at you, his lips meeting yours in a quick, sloppy kiss, his tongue slipping in and exploring your mouth before he pulls back slightly to mumble “good girl” against you; now you really need something inside you, about ready to explode or scream or cry or all of the above.

and almost as if he knows what your body needs, you feel his pinky finger slowly enter your wet hole. it’s so tight and wet and warm and he shuts his own eyes to try to control himself, especially when a quiet, breathy moan leaves your mouth.

“good girl, baby,” he says and his voice sounds so strained, even to his own ears, “stay quiet like i asked.”

your eyes pop open again to look up at him and and he loves that everytime you hear his voice, you open your eyes to look at him. his wet thumb brushes over you to gather wetness and he places it right back on your clit, moving it slowly but steadily and the feeling has your eyes rolling back shut.

“does that feel good?” he asks softly and you nod your head eagerly. but he slows his thumb down and your eyes pop open, desperate and pained and he smirks down at you.

“use your words, y/n. does that feel good?”

another strangled moan leaves your mouth as his finger plunges deeper inside you and you arch your back off the desk. “ye-yes mingi,” you say, “fuck. it’s so..so good,” your words are cut off when your mouth falls open in a silent moan, he thumb immediately rewarding you with faster strokes and you feel a tight knot starting to form in your lower stomach.

mingi’s doing his best to keep himself together, doing everything in his power to not whip his own cock out and do something, anything to you when he hears the chairs next door scuffling.

he looks down at you to see if you noticed but your head’s thrown back in pleasure, eyes closed shut and mouth slightly hanging open as you're laid out on the desk and he can't believe he isn't making a mess in his pants at this very moment.

he regretfully rips his hand out of your underwear and your eyes snap open at him, frustration and confusion and arousal swirling behind your eyes and he has to fight back the urge to apologize and stick his finger back in you.

"he's-he’s coming back in," his strained voice says and it's like you've finally come to your senses. you finally realize that you're in school, you're with your sworn enemy mingi and not only three seconds ago was his hand toying with you about to give you your first orgasm.

you sit up on the desk in shock, eyes falling to the huge bulge in his pants and you can't help the way your eyes are glued to it.

"what...what the- what are you gonna do about that," you squeal in disbelief.

"well you staring at it like that certainly isn't gonna help," he barks out, rushing over to a seat in the back row and throwing his arms over his lap, "sit the hell down."

you scurry to your seat and brush your hands through your knotty hair, taking deep breaths in and out in an effort to calm down your flushed face.

less than a minute later, the teacher comes in through the conjoined door again and eyes you two suspiciously before telling you you’re dismissed from detention and goes back into the other classroom. you and mingi both sigh a breath of relief, looking over at the boy who’s already staring at you with an unreadable expression.

“what?” you ask him and you don’t know what he’s thinking after what the hell just happened.

“what?” he counters and you shrug your shoulders.

“you’re the one looking at me,” you say defensively, grabbing your backpack from the floor and standing up, “are you ready to go or do you still need a second?” you say with a playful smirk.

he scoffs and stands up, still the smallest hint of a tent in his pants but nothing like how it was two minutes ago, “you’re unbelievable.”

you roll your eyes even though there’s a sinking feeling in your stomach because you don’t know how to proceed now. you were just begging for him to finger you on the desk three feet away from you, still kind of really tempted to lay back down and spread your legs for him, and now you’re supposed to go back to hating and fighting with each other?

“what’re you thinking?” he asks suddenly, watching as you stand there with thoughts racing in your head.

“what do you think?” you spat sarcastically and you’re unnerved by how calm he is about this.

“i think…that was probably a long time coming,” he says honestly and you look at him in disbelief.

“what, me begging you to get me off on a dirty school desk?” and the dry way you say it has him laughing, jumping over the desk to make his way over to you.

you step back because you don’t trust yourself to be so close to him right now and his eyebrow raises as you do so.

“yes,” he says simply and your mouth drops open, an outraged noise leaving your mouth.

“okay, yeah, and we won’t just talk about the giant remote that was bulging out of your pants.”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, a cocky smirk covering his face and you roll your eyes as you hear the mistake you made. you swing your backpack over you, stomping past him only to hear him follow after you quickly.

“wait…but did i just hear the word giant?”

he harasses you the whole way home and you couldn’t be more relieved when you finally get to your block, running down and into your house. you catch him last minute looking at you from his front porch, sarcastically waving at you and you roll your eyes before flipping him off and going into your house.

he walks into his own house with a stupid smile on his face, knowing he’s gonna be reliving that time in detention over and over and over again.

age 18:

you’re sitting on the (repaired) swing in your backyard with your boyfriend mingi behind you, pushing you lightly as you two laugh over the fact that it was, indeed, teenage hormones and puberty that made you both realize your constant fighting and bickering was actually repressed feelings and eventual sexual tension.

just four days after that time in detention did you two finish what you started, him sneaking up on your balcony and barging in the way he usual did. but instead of you kicking him out or forcing him to clean your room, he locked your door and buried his fingers and tongue between your legs.

and just like that, all of the obnoxious bickering ended. you still certainly argued and messed with each other but there was also a softness that was gained.

because instead of yelling at him that he was annoying, you were able to press up on your tippy toes and peck him on the cheek.

instead of him purposely hitting you on the way of the classroom, he could grab your hands and intertwine your fingers together.

“i knew this was gonna happen, you know,” the boy says from behind you and you shake your head, a small laugh falling from your lips.

“oh yeah? and when was that exactly? after you threw me off this swing, i presume?”

he rolls his eyes because you’re never gonna let him live that down. “okay, it’s not like i broke your arm,” he reasons with you, his hands tugging on the ropes to slow down your swinging “and you could’ve broken my nose with this strong head of yours.”

you bend it back to look at him upside down, squinting your eyes at him playfully. “i warned you to stop and you didn’t! you see how easily you just did that?”

he shakes his head to the side with a soft smile on his face, leaning down to peck your forehead before forcing neck upwards. “you’re gonna hurt yourself,” he says quietly and you find yourself stupidly smiling at his concern.

he walks around to stand in front of you, holding his hand and waiting until you grab it. he forces you upward, bringing you into his body as you crash into him sloppily.

“where are we going?” you ask as you look up at him.

“it’s getting dark and i’m hungry ,” he whines and you roll your eyes at your baby of a boyfriend.

“okay,” you say, standing on the tips of your toes to kiss him on the lips. it’s supposed to a peck but he leans down to deepen in, taking your cheeks in his hands and his tongue breaking through your mouth to glide against yours.

you pull back and shake your head, your finger going on his mouth to stop him before you both get too crazy. “so, what are you making us then?”

“wait, what? me? i was gonna say-“

“oh you’re picking us up food? great!” you squeal, “i’m gonna go upstairs to nap, surprise me with whatever you choose,” you tell him, reaching up to bop him on the nose before walking past him to run up the stairs.

“wait what! no i was gonna say-“

“i love you!” you shout to him across the yard, spinning around to blow him a kiss and smile sweetly. the words die in his throat as he sighs, returning your smile and sending you a heart before defeatedly taking out his phone to call in an order.

40 minutes later, you awake to a soft kisses peppering your cheek and you poke your eye open to see your boyfriend holding himself above you, a smile on his face as he finally sees your eyes pop open.

“hi, baby, i’m back,” he says quietly and you stretch your arms above your head, a tiny groan leaving your lips.

“i’m hungry,” you whine and he rolls his eyes because he was the one who originally wanted food and was then forced out to get it.

“got it, love,” he says to you softly, “outside on the table.”

you look to the side to see your balcony doors open, a cool breeze coming through your room as a pizza box and two drinks sit on your patio table. you swing your legs over the bed and stand to hug your boyfriend around the waist. you look up to smile gratefully at him, your chin resting on his chest as you do so. “thank you,” you say to him softly and he smiles down at you, pecking you on the top of the head.

“of course, lets go eat now, yeah?” he says and, like old times, scoops you up and throws you over his shoulder.

your happy squeals could be heard throughout the backyard and it’s a stark contrast to the pained ones this boy himself caused the first time you met him.

#ateez #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez smut #mingi #mingi fluff #mingi angst #mingi smut #mingi fic

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sweater-daddiesdumbdork · 4 years

Note

do you have a curtis fic with the tenderly wiping the blood off? because if not can i request one? but if you don’t have could i have it with chris or ari? or curtis is fine but you know my love for ari haha sorry i’m just rambling now😂💕

Trust Me

A/N- I really liked how this one came out, so it gets a title. No real warnings. Thanks for sending this in babes! I did Ari cause well, I havent yet written for him and I know you love him. Thank You @official-and-unstable-satan for reading over what I had last night and giving it a thumbs up. Love you babes.

Red Sea Diving Resort, 70 kilometers from Port Sudan

You paced by the radio, it was silent. So silent, you just wished it would cackle and Sammy would come over in that garbled sound all radios make, letting them know they were successful, on there way back to the resort. But nothing. Occasionally Ethans voice would break through, making you jump in anticipation each time. He would ask for an answer, but there was nothing. Rachael hugged herself as she waited, nearby, ready to answer when needed.

“They will be okay Y/N, its not like Ari hasnt had them go radio silence before.”

You knew your friend was trying to assure you, but it was hard when your heart was wedged in your throat, waiting to bottom out. Here you and Sammy were similar, sometimes you thought the worst although you hoped for the best. How many times had Ari, cupped your face and made you look at him.

“Trust me Y/N” he would say.

Okay Ari, Im trusting you...

Then there was the cackle, and Sammys voice broke through. “On our way back, successful.” Both you and Rachael took relieved sighs and she answered right away. “Loud and Clear guys, see you soon.” You rubbed your face in relief and she came over to give you a squeeze around the shoulders. “Told you, its all gonna be good.”

Ari drove the truck with its ruined shocks, bouncing all over the road. It had been touch and go, but they managed to get the latest round of refugees out to safety in record time, and at the rate they were going, in just another week, they could be making this trip again.

“Can you slow it down?” Sammy asked, bouncing in his own seat, holding onto the ‘oh shit’ handle on the side. “Were not carrying refuges anymore if they stop us.”

Ari eased up. Barely, he was ready to get back to the resort, take some pain killers, crash for a couple good hours before going back to making more plans, and playing host to there current round of resort guests.

“I also wish you would let me look at where you cracked your head. Seriously Ari, only you man.”

Reaching up, he winced where his head clipped off the side of the trucks frame helping people climb out the back. It was a rushed moment, since Jake warned them that he saw headlights off in the distance, and they still had a truck full of people to get on the rafts. It wasnt his finest moment, but they got the job done and were able to hide the trucks off the beach. Once the armed men, no doubt some of Ahmed’s men, passed on by, they split out of there. Driving by moonlight till the beach was far off in the rear view. They got lucky, again.

Ari always seemed to get lucky, Sammy would sarcastically comment at times.

“Dont worry Sammy, Im fine. I will have Y/N take a look at it before we go to sleep.” Ari remarked, and his friend rolled his eyes and sighed in discouragement with his stubbornness. Ari continued on excitedly though. “It went pretty good I thought, considering they were patrolling. Everyone out, no one got injured. If we plan it right, we can go out next week, as long as Kabede can get them out of camp.”

Sammy wrinkled his brow, worry etching over his face. “You dont think thats pushing it a bit close? Ahmed is already suspicious as it is”

Ari smirked and looked over at Sam “Trust Me.”

Hours later the two trucks pulled up alongside of the resort, you and Rachael waiting just outside the main entrance to greet them back, also to find out about why radio silence. Your hands wrung together and you blew out some hot air in a huff that fluffed your bangs. Rachael chuckled softly at your nerves and leaned in close to whisper to you. “See, its all good.” You smiled at her, an apology for your nerves, and went to greet the men.

Jake and Max came around, from one of the trucks with big grins on there faces.

“Like a charm Doll” Max said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. His good mood was infectious and you relaxed in his hold, your arm slinging around his waist with affection.

“So the radio silence was just for...?” You asked and from behind you, you heard Ari came up on your other side, carrying some of Sammys equipment, startling you. As big as Ari was, he was quiet. A skill he had picked up over the years of military training.

“There were patrols out, not far from us. We went entirely dark for a time while unloading, and had to hide the trucks.” You reached to take some of what he was carrying and caught sight of his face, near his temple was a line of dried blood, leading up to a nasty looking scrapped bruise.

Rachael caught sight of it to, wincing as she reached out to take the stuff from Ari. “Here, let me take that, and you should have Sam take a look at that.” Max collected what you had to, offering to help. Ari started to protest the two of them, when you gave him a gentle push to get him headed into the hotel.

“Shes right, come on.” you insisted, and he didnt fight you. Cutting through the lobby, the two of you skirted around the counter that was the check in, and headed into the employees only section. In the back rooms, Ari leaned lightly against the table watching you as you searched out the first aide kit. “Tomorrow Im going to go into the refuge camp, see if Kabede is ready to bring the next group out, I know its soon, but if they can have to rescue boat back here by beginning of next week, we could start doing this alot faster.”

Ari continued on with what he was hoping for, and tidbits from tonight, while you sought through the bottom cupboard, and finally found the bright red cross case that was your first aide kit. Bringing it over to the table, and flipping it open, your ‘Mmhm’ sounding once in a while to show you were still listening, he reached over to grasp your wrist. “Y/N, whats wrong sweetheart?”

You glance at him while prepping a cloth to wipe away the blood and around the wound. “Ari... It sounds like it was a close call. If you all get caught, lets be real about this. They wont just throw you in some jail cell if your caught with truckloads of refugees.” You didnt mention the last part, the very first day you all arrived, there was an execution style killing going on right outside the window as he was negotiating just to get this place. That was a year and a half ago.

“What are you saying Y/N? You want us to stop? Were saving so many lives.”

Guilt crossed your face as you heard him, it was true. So far you all have managed to smuggle out hundreds of people, slowly emptying the refugee camps. But even in that there wasnt a end in sight. They would just keep coming, desperate and barely hanging onto the promise of freedom and safety.

“I know... I know... “ You say softly while he pulled out a chair and sat down on it so you could clean him up, thighs spreading so you could stand in close where you need to be, and tip his face slightly. “Just hearing how close they were tonight, you going radio silence. It scared me Ari. There is nothing we could do to save you guys.”

His hands moved to the back of your thighs, rubbing your tensed muscles through your pants and grasped lightly under the cheeks while you gently wiped at his cheek, the dried blood flaking off and making your way up the trail. “We have to be smart about this Ari, know when weve played our hand as much as we can without getting ourselves caught.”

Quiet for a time while you dabbed at his face softly, he finally spoke up. “Trust me Y/N, I know it. No one was more worried then I was that we were gonna be found. I drove like a fucking bat outta hell to put distance between us. I cant stop though, not right now... I wont. This works, what were doing works.”

And this was always how it was with Ari, forever will he put everyone else before himself. You knew this the day you agreed to join them on this mission, and to ask him to change? You knew he wouldnt give this up. Not for Sam, not for you, not for the family he left behind ages ago. It was a bitter pill to swallow at times, but at the same time, isnt that why you cared for him more then you should have, His selflessness?

So you set it aside for now, your fingers gentle as the trace over his bearded jawline to tilt his face further, and now careful clean up the actual cut. Its not as bad as it looked, and you change the subject. “How did this happen anyways?”

“Smashed it upside the back end helping people down. I was pulling myself up and clipped it.” Ari rolled his eyes at himself and you chuckled softly hearing it, brushing your fingers through his hair out of his eyes.

“Well fuck Ari, I apparently cant even leave you in the capable hands of Sammy to keep you out of trouble.” You tossed the cloth in the nearby sink now that he was cleaned up, and dabbed just a light amount of ointment on it to keep it clean. When you finished by rubbing your hands together quickly to clear away the rest of the ointment, he tightened his grip on your thighs and pulled one leg up, then the other to straddle him, wrapping one arm around your waist so you could brace back lightly against his arm.

“Not like you could keep me out of it either, dont worry Honey, we got this. We will stop when it gets to be to dangerous.” Your fingers brushed through his hair once more, giving it the lightest teasing tug before wrapping your arms around his neck, and giving him an doubtful smile. You knew it was a lie, he wouldnt. But right now this was another problem, another day, another worry for another time.

Wrapping his free hand around the back of your neck and dragging you forward, his lips connecting with yours and the wild taste of sea salt, hints of nicotine, and something just him drew out a soft moan from you, a tip of the head and he was able to draw you in deeper till you were leaning in against his chest, and with a light bite, he drew away, his long fingers lightly pressing in against the back of your neck.

“Ive got you, trust me.”

You didnt want to, but deep down, you always did.

tagging- @jtargaryen18 @what-is-your-plan-today @p8tn0lish @stardancerluv @princess-evans-addict @patzammit

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iphoenixrising · 4 years

Note

Hey babe!!! Love your work! 💜💋 After reading your newer works and re reading your ABO works I can just not stop thinking about what Tim would be like when he's really needy. Like after a long day of vigilanteing it up Tim is just absolutely wet for it and is pleasuring himself and dick and Jason walk in on it and Tim just begs for them

Well babe~

First off, I love that vigilanteing is now a word. So much yes.

Second!

Poor Timmy would just be so damn tired after a long few weeks without his Alphas while he’s been in the Tower fighting the good fight with his team, and he hasn’t had any time to take care of himself.

When he gets to the Penthouse in Gotham, he finds out Hood has been out of town with the Outlaws and Nightwing has Robin in New York for the weekend. The disappointment? Is real.

But if anything, Timmy is a planner, and puts his Perch on lockdown, turns off his comms and phone, sets a standard I’m out, fuck off message so he can just take a little time for himself.

(And it’s fucking awful how his instincts are so prevalent when the day is saved and the masks come off and he can be just Tim, just an Omega, he can give in when he needs to now because Dick and Jay, B and Alfred, Dami and Cass, Duke and Babs, all of them are just Pack and don’t judge him for it, just take him as he is…)

He gets something to drink, eats an apple, strips down to the bicycle shorts and tank under the body suit, grabs a quick shower so he’s clean, maybe plays a little while he’s in there and the hot water rushes over him, can give him the illusion of hands and mouths on his skin.

(But it isn’t enough. It isn’t them, not by a long shot.)

For the finale, he wants to tease himself a little, wants to be on his back with his legs spread, wants to close his eyes and think about Jay kneeling there, talking to him so sweetly, calling him ‘Sweets’ and ‘Sugar,’ wants to imagine those big hands moving up the insides of his thighs, wants to imagine Dick’s fingers and mouth moving over his sensitive chest, taking his time to find out more secrets of Tim’s body.

Even though his Alphas have…strong feelings about toys, the last time they found them and used them on him to make a very valid point that he should have called them first and foremost, they agree he should keep them for emergencies. So, the blue one is on his right side, the red one on his left, so he can imagine them both taking him one after another, knotting him, filling him so fucking full.

The scent of slick is strong in his bedroom with the door closed that he has to turn his face in their pillows and try catching a hint of their scents to go with it.

He starts with fingers, opening himself up less carefully than his Alphas do when he’s not in Heat, just wants to be filled and fucked, wants to come hard after so long denying the need.

He turns his head to lay the red one on the pillow and suck the tip in his mouth, working the blue one inside his tight, slick body, moaning around a mouthful when the toy starts to slide inside, the burning stretch what he’s been craving.

It’s easy to work one in his mouth, muffling himself while thrusting his hips into each stroke of the blue one, whimpering when he starts to get closer and closer, but just–

–can’t.

Nothing is bringing him close enough to actually come, no matter how fast and hard he works the blue toy, how deep he takes the red one in his throat, he just…he can’t get there, and the frustration is so real.

He’s so lost trying to get himself there he absolutely doesn’t hear the window slide up until it’s too late, and his Alphas step into the bedroom to the sight of Timmy almost crying in frustration, fucking himself within an inch of his life.

“Ooh, now ain’t that a purty sight,” Jay breathes, already pulling the helmet off to drop carelessly on the floor. He immediately starts salivating when he sees the red one buried in their Omega’s mouth, muffling his keens and whines.

“Best. Day. Ever,” Dick agrees wholeheartedly, gloves and gauntlets gone in a hot minute, almost ripping the Nightwing suit down to get it the fuck off so his scent can get through Timmy’s arousal.

Jay is absolutely on that train, guns quickly disarmed on the dresser, body armor thrown wherever it happens to land, and the echo of their purrs, the deep musks mixing with his scent is enough to rouse the pained Omega, for his eyes to crack open, dazed and wet with frustration and arousal. The red toy is slick with saliva when he finally pulls it out of his mouth, his chest pink, stuttering with each panting breath.

“Please,” is more of a raw whine than an actual plea, “I can’t…I need…help, please help–”

Dick gives absolutely no fucks strafing across the room with the suit flapping around his thighs, shoving Tim’s legs open with bare hands, his eyes a deeply feral blue. He catches the wrist frantically fucking the toy in and out of the drenched hole with obscenely wet sounds, and pulls the Nightwing blue knotting vibrator out without hurting their Omega while Jay takes the place right by Timmy’s shoulder, leaning down to get the taste of those whines, of that desperation.

Dick is fast about it, his inner Pack Alpha reacting to the tears and the scent of frustration tainting Tim’s normal sweetness. He throws those thighs back, already throbbing to be buried in that tight, warm heat.

“Jay,” is barely more than a growl, his second getting with the program to pull back from Tim’s mouth, turn him enough to bare his neck.

“Get ‘im, Baby Boy,” while his jaw opens wide.

Dick lines up and makes the first thrust in hard enough to bury himself to his fucking knot.

At the same time, Jay strikes.

The dual sensation of being fucked full and teeth sinking into his scent gland is enough for Tim’s whole body to arch, for the scream to echo through the bedroom, for his ass and cock to throb with the looming orgasm finally exploding, pleasure racing up his spine sharp and all-consuming to make him almost black out.

Dick barely pauses, starts a hard and fast rhythm, determined to work their Omega up to a second and possibly third, his eyes intense on Timmy’s dazed eyes and mouth pink from Jay’s kiss.

And, well, since he has good Alphas, he gets Jay’s cock fucking his mouth and Dick’s knot sliding home by the time he’s ready to come again. He moans and tightens down on Jay’s thighs, pulling him in further, trying to get him to–

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” The younger Alpha pants, “ya wanna I knot yer mouth? Get cha knotted up in both ends?”

The muffled moan around his cock answers the question well enough that he throws a thigh over their Omega’s face and works his hips harder, slides his knot halfway past Timmy’s lips, making sure he can take it.

But their bird always godda have a plan, and lurches up to fit the rest of Jay’s knot in his damn self.

“Oh! Oh my God he’s getting so tight around–!”“Jesus I’m dying, Dickie, I’m fucking dying.”“That’s it, Baby, take us both. So good, so good for us, came so hard, didn’t you?”

But Tim’s mouth is too full to reply, his eyes closed while he just sucks and swallows, gets a breath in when he can. And Jay is barely keeping himself braced on the headboard, looking down to watch how fucking beautiful he is with a knot filling his pretty mouth.

It’s really picture perfect.When they both finally go down enough to be able to pull out, Tim is covered in their come, completely fucked out, flying high on how amazing that was. He’s far gone enough not to hear them talking over him, just knows the hands on him, petting him, smoothing the hair away from his face, the kisses to their marks on the back of neck are all real this time.

Warm arms and a strong chest, his face nestled against Dick’s musk, and he’s almost flying in his Alpha’s arms until Dick hands him off to Jay, sinking him down in a warm bath.

He must have been a little out of it while the bath water ran, vaguely remembers Dick holding a bottle of water to his mouth and cooing something at him in that deeper Alpha voice so he would rouse enough to drink.

He comes back when bits of conversation about what he’d been into that week make him sit up a little, realize Dick is holding his leg out of the water, running a soapy cloth over it and Jay’s at the same time.

“Sshh, ssshh, s’all right,” Jay’s arm slides slickly up his chest to grip his shoulder and pull him back down, laying his chin on the top of Tim’s head to keep him in place.

“It’s okay, Baby, we’ve got you,” Dick pauses in washing, leans in to press a gentle kiss to his mouth before going on to their other legs, pulling Jay’s out of the water, giving it a kiss before washing him and then Tim’s, the same motion applies.

“‘Kay. Gonna sleep for a while. Then…then…” but he’s already closing his eyes again, relaxing back against Jay’s heartbeat, a sigh lifting his chest before he’s out.

#winter answers #with smut #aob #tagged for anon!#omega!tim #alpha!dick #alpha!jay #i regret nothing #sorry this took so long babe #tim drake #dick grayson #jason todd #dickjaytim #my writing

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ythmir-writes · 5 years

Note

I really enjoy reading your works! May I ask Ikesen Kenshin & silver for your 182 series?

hello dear! thank you thank you thank you so much for ALL your support (you know what im talking about! and you spoil me srsly (♡´艸`)) your tag dumps and your presence helps keep me going! thank you! so here it is! im not sure if it will live up to your favorite one out of all that i’ve written so far but ahhhhhh i hope you won’t hate me for this because i’m gonna go ahead and say this one is painful ｡(＿　＿｡)＝3

SILVER

fandom: Ikemen Sengokucharacter: Kenshin Uesugi

warnings for pain; 2999 words

Kenshin Uesugi had always expected she would leave. Eventually.

He knew it was inevitable. He knew that taking the Azuchi princess as hostage was only for a limited amount of time; that her presence was a guaranteed constant but only for so long as there was conflict between him and the Oda. With the conflict gone and all their treatises signed, there was no reason for him to keep her. No real convincing reason for her to consider an extended and indefinite stay.

So Kenshin was at a loss as to why he felt so vexed when the claim for the Azuchi Princess’ return finally started.

The formalities of the Claim were initiated by one Mitsunari Ishida – a general no less – who came into Kasugayama castle bearing gifts and the inevitable news that sadly (Kenshin had rolled his eyes at that) the Azuchi Princess must be returned.

As if to purposely aggravate Kenshin further, Mitsunari had even gone beyond and above his duty, and had presented a detailed and outlined plan of their travels, with the expected time of departure and arrival back at the Oda’s main residence.

“Her powers need to be renewed.” Mitsunari had droned on, continuing to explain the obvious. “Any extension and she would be most inconvenienced. Perhaps, mortally in danger even.”

“Watch your words, Mitsunari Ishida.” Kenshin had heard his voice before commonsense could stop him. He had sounded angry, offended. Some might have even said, a tad possessive. “Do you insinuate we have not taken care of your princess?”

Mitsunari had looked non-plussed, maybe truly apologetic. “My apologies, Lord Uesugi. I meant no offense. Only that we both know the precarious situation she is in for being too far gone from her source of power.”

Kenshin had had no answer to that.

Calculated. Meticulous. Damnably precise. Mitsunari’s answers and back-up plans had been made so that no circumstance were left unaddressed, no other endgame targeted other than the homecoming in three days time. It was plainly obvious that there was no room which Kenshin could use to argue or haggle and by the end of it, he had been left near boiling mad at how even during peaceful times, Nobunaga took advantageous measures rather than diplomatic ones.

Then again, Kenshin should have been distant; thoughts of haggling for an extended stay should never have crossed his mind. He should be impartial and uninterested. Had he not already expected her unavoidable return to the Oda? Had he not spent three years of his life bracing himself for that fact?

So why did his jaw feel tense? Why did he feel like a snake coiled taut and ready to strike? Kenshin had gnashed his teeth and had impatiently tapped his fingers on the hilt of his sword all the while, pretending he could get up and swing his sword to make a point. No one questioned the god of war.

But, no. Those were not the gestures and thoughts of an uninterested captor, and definitely not the emotions of a person who knew from the very beginning this day would come.

“You said you expected this.” Shingen Takeda had leaned towards him from his shared spot in the dais as soon as Mitsunari had left the main hall. “You said you wouldn’t care.”

“I don’t.” Kenshin had snapped back while suppressing his horror that much of his true mood had managed to show. “I’m annoyed because of the provided logistics. I expected Uesugi cavalry to escort her. I prepared. And now that’s all to waste.”

Shingen’s brows rose at this, as if he had picked up something Kenshin had not even said and it had only made Kenshin’s mood dip for the worst.

“Nobunaga leaves nothing to chance.” Shingen had leaned back, waved a hand towards the gifts left behind: favorite things, precious treasures, handpicked from lands only the Oda had reach. Too generous compensation for the task of keeping a goddess and his princess safe. “You should know better than that.”

“No. He does not. And yes, I should have.” Kenshin had nothing else he could afford to say.

In the afternoon, the rest of the Oda party had arrived: two dozen armed escorts, five Oda special infantrymen, two pairs of armoured scouts, and a full rear guard.

Mitsunari Ishida had beamed at them with pride, the shadow of a boy slipping from his battle-hardened facade. He had watched with keen interest as the soldiers went into formation, pledged their allegiance to the Princess and to the Oda, before performing a salute to Uesugi’s generosity.

“Well performed.” Shingen had commented. “And excellent footwork, if I may add.”

“Thank you, Lord Shingen.” Mitsunari had been all smiles. “I have taken your advice to heart. Your compliments mean a lot to me.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen soldiers so eager to fall in line.” Yukimura Sanada, Shingen’s second, had added.

Mitsunari had waved a hand at his soldiers. “Nothing but the best for this mission. Nothing less should be spared for the Azuchi Princess’ trip back home.”

Home.

Kenshin had ground his teeth again, realizing the group was Mitsunari’s handpicked guard. It was almost as if it was not Nobunaga Oda who was claiming the Princess back but this damnable, smiling, scheming, cunning little –

It took every ounce of self-control, and a well-timed whisper from his most trusted ninja, for Kenshin to loosen his white-knuckled grip on his sword. Whether it was sheer anger or spite that carried him through the rest of the ceremonies, he did not know. Only that as the rest of rules of tradition were fulfilled, Kenshin had retreated to his thoughts.

But then again, what thoughts?

Too long he had repeated to himself this: Precisely because he knew there would never be a compelling reason for her to stay behind in Kasugayama, so too he had no compelling reason to go ahead and put a name on anything he felt where it concerns the Princess – other than “inconveniences”, “distractions”, little “hiccups that made his mind wander when he should be thinking of war”. Everything he had had with her, all the moments spent in her company he had long convincedhimself were but temporary.

Why try to decipher any of the uncomfortable sensations he felt if he knew in the end there was nothing to come of it?

Just like wildflowers, he reasoned to himself; those had no proper names, no real identities, just whispers. They were beautiful and wonderful and terribly fleeting. They come in spring to die inwinter only to then bloom again. A breath taken then gone.

What was the use of naming and holding on to something so obviously transient?

So in all honesty, Kenshin Uesugi had never truly considered the depth of the emotions he truly harbored for the princess.

And now, he was escorting her to her palanquin.Nowthe inevitability was coming to pass.Now he felt upset and vexed beyond comprehension at the thought of the princess being taken away. Wildflowers plucked before they could fully bloom. Too soon, too soon.

The idea made him sick, made him angry, made him feel so unpleasantly vulnerable. Made him feel a deep sense of lamentation at what hehad lost, what he was losing – what he had so long been too cowardly to grasp.

But he should not be so selfish.

She needed to go back, Kenshin reasoned to himself. She needed to go back to her lands and to her magic. She needed to be returned so she could live, so she could flourish, so she could regain her power to serve her people and see better days.

That he needed her to stay, that he wanted her to stay, was something best kept to himself.

She was just a hostage. She was just another tool used in the war.

That she had been so warm. That she had been so bright. That she had been able to pull him when other would simply let go. That she had been stubborn when others would simply be compliant. That she had been the cause of most of his laughter. That she had been so strong, and honest, and courageous and valiant and taught him so many other things when he had thought of her as next to nothing.

That was no one’s fault but his.

“Thank you for your kindness all this while.” The Princess bowed low, at the waist just like he had taught her, then straightened back up like an arrow, taut. She was dressed as he had first seen her, in a pauper’s travelling clothes with a short sword strapped at the waist. None of Echigo’s riches were decorating her now. None of their gifts dangling from her ears or wrapping around her wrists. All traces of him gone. Not even the hairpin he had given her.

And at the thought, Kenshin’s heart sank even further.

“You take care, all right.” Shingen had taken Kenshin’s silence as an opportunity to say his own goodbyes. “Your party is more than enough to keep you safe but well, nothing wrong with blessings to leave you by.”

“I’m grateful for them.” She answered, smiling up at him, as if Shingen had not been the principle moving force behind her capture.

“You be sure to keep a healthy diet too.” Yukimura had decided to cut in as well. “No more just sake and sour plums.” He shot a look at Kenshin.

Kenshin ignored the look.

The Princess laughed. “I liked them a lot. I still do.”

“I’ll be sure to visit.” Sasuke Sarutobi said now, materializing from whatever shadow he had just been in. No doubt he had scouted as far ahead as possible to make sure their path was clear. “With the new peace treaties between Oda and Uesugi-Takeda, there’s no reason for me to be covert about it either.”

“We could have snacks at that candy store again.” She clapped her hands. “Remember that dango?”

“If there’s sweets involved, then I’m going too.” Shingen invited himself. “Yuki?”

Yukimura groaned. “Fine. Because someone has to make sure you behave yourself.”

They laughed. Kenshin wanted to join in on their merriment, be part of their group as he had always been. He wanted at the very least for their last memory to not be a burden for her to carry. But he could not find any joy in what was happening, even if it was the promise of happier and peaceful days spent under a brighter silver moon.

“Kenshin?”

Her voice pulled at him like the moon to waves and Kenshin looked at her looking at him, a little bit worried, a little bit something else behind her silver eyes.

Kenshin’s throat tightened with emotion and need to lock her up again, refuse any help, destroy all evidence of good will and make war once again just so he could have the semblance of an excuse for her to –

“I want you to stay,” he began, his voice wrung with emotions. First, relief, at the realization of what exactly he was feeling. Second, and more so, that particular emotion that gutted his innards and twisted them.

Grief. He was grieving this end. Inevitable. Unavoidable. Inconceivably painful. He did not want this. He did not want to partake in any of this.

He should have known from the very start that wildflower roots run deep. And once they had taken to the land, they knew no other.

But she needed to go back, he reminded himself again. She needed to go back so she could live. He needed to let her go before she died in her cage like how –

“I want you to stay.” Kenshin repeated, the pain in his chest making him throw away all sense of self-preservation that had kept him alive in the battlefield. “But I know you have to go back. I do not want this but it needs to be done.”

“Is that for me or for you?” She asked gently, taking his hand.

Kenshin opened his mouth, closed it. Took a lifetime to respond. “I don’t know.” He finally said, his voice barely a whisper.

Somewhere during the time it was taking him too long to answer, everyone else seemed to have suddenly given them space. They were conversing as if in private now, Mitsunari Ishida (the damnable smile still in place) had even turned away and left them in peace.

“You avoided me the past few days.” She said. “You never came to visit me in my room.”

“You were saving stamina for the trip. I didn’t want to be a burden.” Kenshin answered.

“I see.” Her tone told Kenshin she did not believe him. He did not expect her to. He had spent the past few days hovering in front of her room, passing it by, taking a longer route just so he could spare it a glance. But never truly asked if he could come in.

He did not want to see her room being emptied, did not want to see the trunks being loaded with everything she owned, did not want to strike up a conversation about how he felt about this.

How she felt about it all.

“And yet here you are saying you want me to stay.”

Kenshin swallowed before answering. “I do.”

Her lips tugged upward at some memory. “Sasuke told me you were near ballistic during the turnover. Said something about an offense…?” She prompted.

“There was insinuation against my honor.” Kenshin remembered and felt angry again. “That I might not have taken care of you.”

She giggled and Kenshin wanted to bottle up the sound for him to keep. “That’s not what Mitsunari said.”

Kenshin clicked his tongue. “That’s what I heard.”

“The reason I was waiting because I have something to give you.” She let go of his hand to produce something from her sleeve. It wasa small charm sewn in bright blue and silver fabric, Uesugi colors, with a bright red thread forming the shape of a bird.

Kenshin recognized it instantly but had barely formed the words of protest on his lips when the Princess had already placed it in his hands, closed his palms over it.

“A goddess’ hair is a powerful thing.” Kenshin said, thoughts reflexively going to tactics, to war. “Do you even understand – ?”

“That is not its only purpose.” She kept her eyes trained on their hands clasped together. “It means something else.”

Kenshin pressed his mouth into a thin line, wondered if it was safe to let loose what he had kept so long inside him. Wondered if she would drown. If both of them would.

“I return you to the Oda as the day I found you.” Kenshin said instead and he did his best to ignore the way her shoulders stiffened at him hastening their parting. “Not a hair on your head harmed. Not a sliver of skin taken which was not freely given. Not your power or your soul fragmented. I return you as I found you.”

“All good will, prosperity, and blessings be upon you, Lord Kenshin Uesugi.” She chanted the proper words back. “For you have returned me as you have found me and have not harmed me or done me ill will. I am going back whole, safe. Unharmed. Tended to with the best you have to offer. Loved.” She looked at him and her eyes shone. “Loved in the way you knew how.”

Kenshin swallowed a wail and wondered with the way her shoulders were quivering, if she hated him too.

Hated him for not speaking his mind until the very end. Hated him for not doing something to prevent this. Hated him for not parting with a better memory to reminisce. Not with a banquet. Not with a promise for the future. Not even one last night to drink under the stars from which she was named after. Hated him for keeping it all inside because he was nothing but afraid.

She did not need to. He hated himself enough for both of them.

“You haven’t failed, Kenshin Uesugi.” She smiled at him now, that same patient smile she always wore when he was being difficult. “You haven’t let me die the same way as Isehime. You haven’t let anyone die in vain, if at all. I just wish you’d see that too.” Then without giving him time to say anything else, she turned away.

Kenshin did not chase her. Had Kenshin been a little less stronger, he would have dropped on his knees and begged her all over again to stay. But he was not and he did not.

It took all his strength to stay and watch her palanquin until it disappeared into the horizon. All the while Kenshin gripped the charm like it was a lifeline. Part of him wanted to ride his mare and bring her back. Part of him was relieved that finally, she could grow strong again and live life better again.

But all of him, every single fiber of his being, missed her, craved her being with him. And not for the last time did he wish he was a god of something else – anything else – that could keep her safe. Could keep her safe.

It was past midnight by the time Kenshin could be ushered by Sasuke to go back into the castle. Kenshin was not sure. Time was suddenly hazy, a concept foreign to him. It was only time he had spent with her, and the time he was now spending without her.

Kenshin Uesugi raised his eyes towards the sky, his eyes searching for the stars she had so often pointed out as her favorites. But no matter how long he stared or how much his tears tried to rinse him of all his sorrow, he could not see them. None of them were there tonight.

And neither was she. Not anymore.

25/182

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #ythmir fanfics #ythmir writes #i have nothing to say for myself for this one except for maybe #i cut out a really nice and long sparring session with the MC #i;ll use it in a future work maybe #so for now #no mc and kenshin trying to stab each other with a practice sword #25/182 #182 #to be formatted

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