#the worst he ever did was pick them up and throw them on the bed or trampoline | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

miley1442111 · 17 days

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fix it-a.hotchner

a/n: i imagined a fem reader but as per usual, imagine what you like :)

please don't read if you have emetophobia!!!!

summary: aaron says some horrible things, can he fix it?

pairing: husband! aaron hotchner x wife! reader

warnings: mad angst, aaron is so mean, reader believes she is a bad mother, heartbreak, feelings of disappointment, jack is so sweet, reader is pregnant, talks of pregnancy, talks of vomiting and morning sickness, no happy ending :(

part 2- fix it together

It was all coming down to this. It was Jack’s birthday and as his step-mom, you had been party planning all week. He was having a dinosaur themed birthday with a bounce house and watching a movie in the backyard, like a little drive in movie. You were excited for him. Aaron hadn’t really been around much that week, he was busy dealing with some legal battle the FBI was up against, meaning the rest of the team, including yourself, had the week off. It was Friday night, Jack’s actual birthday and he was asleep in bed as you waited for Aaron to get home. You were reading a book Spencer had recommended you as you nursed a cup of tea, getting sleepier by the second.

The front door opened and there Aaron stood, briefcase in hand, handsome as ever. You smiled and got up from your spot on the couch, ready to greet him. He smiled softly as you hugged him, running a hand through his hair. “How did it go?” you asked, your voice just above a whisper.

“Oh it was fine, nothing too jarring. How was the week?” He asked, walking further into the house.

“Fine. Nothing to report. Jack’s asleep but-”

“Did you do something for his birthday?” He asked, cutting you off.

“Yeah, of course. I picked him up from school early and we went for lunch and to a film. He really enjoyed himself,” you smiled and he sighed. “Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, fine,” Passive aggressive. Aaron was being passive aggressive.

“Aaron,” You said, worry coating your words. “Is everything ok?”

“Yes! Everything is just fine,” He sighed again, sitting on the couch. “Just one thing though- you didn’t think to offer him to see his mom?” He asked, malice behind every word. The accusation cut you deeply. Of course you’d asked, but he’d said no. He said ‘I don’t want to go without dad’ because of course he wouldn’t. He didn’t want to go to his moms grave without his dad, and not on his birthday either. You stood there, stunned at his words. He continued. “Y’know, you promised me this wouldn’t be an issue, so tell me now, is this an issue Y/N? I need to know because we can still get an annulment.”

You gasped at his words. “Aaron stop-”

“No, you stop. You are not his mother. She is. She still is, even if she’s gone. You’ll never be his mother. You’re doing a good job of parenting but nothing compares to Haley. Thank god you’re not his actual mother.”

That was venomous. He was going straight for every insecurity you had around your relationship with Jack and throwing it in your face. He was hurting you.

The silence was heavy. Aaron finally looked at your face and saw the disgust written all over it. The worst part was the fact that he knew it wasn't disgust at his actions, it was disgust directed at yourself and your parenting. You loved and adored Jack, he knew that. He knew, though he’d never admit it, that Jack liked you more than him, or maybe it was just his insecurity speaking, he wasn’t sure. He knew you gave everything of yourself to the both of them. And he knew he’d just done irreversible damage.

“I offered,” you muttered, your eyes trained on the floor as you wrapped your arms around your chest, pleading with yourself to not cry. You felt silly, standing there, in his hoodie, his home, and seeing his child as your own. “He said he wanted to wait for you. I said we’d go on Sunday.”

Aaron’s stomach dropped at the tone of your voice and the words being spoken. He was making you cry. He was hurting you. And all you’d ever been to him was perfectly kind. You’d always been so supportive, so loving, and so caring. As he came in he saw a love note on the fridge, he’d seen one of his favourite chocolate bars on the counter with a note beside it, a little wrapped gift beside it too. There were multiple reminders on the fridge for yourself, ones telling you to pick up things for the party, pick up Jack’s big birthday gift (a new bike), and call Jessica. You cared so much about the both of them, and he’d just said some of the worst things he could’ve, just because he was stressed.

Imagine how stressed you were, planning an entire party on your own while simultaneously working through hours and hours of paperwork (courtesy of your job, you were still working from home even if you weren't technically working), and parenting all week, all alone.

“There’s dinner in the fridge, I-I’m going to go to bed,” you mumbled, walking about and leaving him alone with his thoughts. He heard your footsteps retract, walking up the stairs and in the opposite direction of your shared bedroom. Shit. You were sleeping in the guest room.

He got up, irritation and shame barely allowing him to get to the kitchen to eat the meal you’d made him. Why was he like this? Why couldn’t he have just listened to you?

He sat alone eating, his eyes drifting to the gift on the counter the entire time. I don’t deserve it. He thought, but caved once he finished his food and cleaned up. He pulled the small bow off and unwrapped the colourful paper to reveal a positive pregnancy test. His heart broke again. Inside beside it was a note, in your beautiful handwriting.

To my dearest Aaron,

I wanted to tell you the second I found out but I also didn’t want you to come home too early when you were still needed in Washington. We’re pregnant! I’m so excited and nervous and happy and scared all at the same time. I didn’t want to upstage Jack’s birthday but I obviously needed to tell you :)

I love you so much and I can’t wait for this next chapter! No more guest bedroom I guess :)

P.s I’m almost sure Jack knows, I’ve been having horrible morning sickness :( but at least this fulfils his christmas wish last year, remember ?

Anyways, I love you so much and I’m so excited.

Your love, Y/N

Xxxx

He felt sick to his stomach. You were pregnant. He’d just been evilly cruel to you and you were pregnant. He’d said some of the most vile things on planet earth to you, he essentially called you a bad mother. And you were pregnant. He hadn’t even realised he was crying until he saw the splotches on the paper, ruining one of the cute doodles you’d done. He immediately put it down, not wanting to damage it further.

He took a deep breath, then went into his study and allowed himself to cry. He’d been mean. He’d hurt you in the one way he promised he wouldn’t, all because he was overwhelmed. All because he was stressed.

“Dad?” He heard Jack’s voice and straightened. He wiped his face. “Why are you upset?” Jack walked into his office, pyjamas and a teddy in hand.

“I did something mean to mom,” he admitted. “And I hurt her by accident,” he wasn’t sure if it was by accident. He was sure some deep part of him just wanted to self-sabotage himself. “And I feel bad about it.”

“It’ll be ok. Mom’s been sick this week, maybe you have the same tummy ache and it’s making you mad?” He suggested and Aaron let out a pathetic chuckle.

“Maybe bud, maybe,” he agreed. “How about we get you back to bed, huh?”

“Can I say goodnight to mom again?” He asked and Aaron’s heart broke again. He lifted him up and nodded, walking them down the hall. “You go into her and I’ll get your bed ready, yeah?”

“OK dad!” Jack exclaimed as he was let down to the ground, and went running off to your shared bedroom. Aaron shook his head.

“She’s in the other bedroom,” he pushed down another wave of tears at Jack’s confused face.

“Why?” He asked, confused.

“I was really mean,” Aaron sniffled. “Say goodnight from me too?”

“Ok dad,” Jack said, walking into the guest room.

Aaron heard your voice, wishing Jack good dreams. You’d been crying.

He was the worst person in the world.

Jack came into his bedroom a few minutes later. “Mom’s still sick, she said goodnight and to tell you that she loves you.”

Aaron almost started crying again. You were so caring. You always put him above yourself. “Thanks buddy.”

Aaron tucked him in and closed his door over, wishing him a good night. The tears came shortly after. He tried to sleep in your shared bed, but it wasn’t right. You weren’t there.

Sleep evaded him that night.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, the morning sickness hit you like a truck. You had your head in the toilet for an hour, at least. You didn’t come out of the guest room until about 9am. You could hear the usual sounds of Jack and Aaron playing outside, probably soccer. You walked downstairs and got yourself a glass of water, the only thing you could actually stomach at the minute. You looked out the window that led to your garden and smiled when you saw your boys playing, then the nagging voice that you thought you’d gotten rid of all but screamed in your ear You’re such a terrible parent. Aaron’s just been trying to conserve your feelings this entire time. Jack probably hates you. You shouldn’t be having another child.

You looked away. Focus on the party. You told yourself. Get through today.

You had a long list of things that needed doing before the party at 3. You had to pick up balloons, pick up the cake, pick up Jessica and her kids, pick up Sean from the airport (as a surprise for Aaron and Jack), and set everything up. You left a small note on the table explaining where you were, and left. You ran all your errands, leaving picking up Jessica, the kids, and Sean till last. When you walked back in, the house was set up and Jack was immediately excitedly by Jessica, his cousins, and Sean which gave you a moment to slip away from Aaron.

Soon enough, the party started and you were bombarded with around forty children and a party to have. You felt Aaron's eyes on you constantly, checking in on you or just watching you. Once the outdoor film started, Penelope, Emily, Jj, and Spencer came over to ask what was wrong with you and Aaron, saying it was strange to not see you all over each other. You told them about the fight (not the pregnancy) and they were shocked at his behaviour. How could he be so mean? How could he treat you like that?

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Aaron had been trying to talk to you for hours. Whenever he tried, a kid or one of the team would stop him with a dumb question, or needing help. You had Emily, Penelope, Jj, and Spencer crowding you the entire night, sending him the dirtiest of looks. That’s how he ended up at the end of the garden with David and Derek, who were both giving him a lecture about how what he’d done was wrong.

“You can't say anyone is a bad parent!” Derek stressed. “That’s a very clear no-go!”

“I’m aware,” Aaron said, his lips tight in a frown. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Then why aren’t you apologising?!” Derek exclaimed, loud enough that a few kids turned around to shush him.

“Because,” Aaron sighed. “Those four haven’t left her side in hours.”

As the movie came to a close and the children left, you were left with just the team and family.

You all sat down to dinner, chinese takeout- Jack’s favourite. There was laughter and true joy, especially at David’s insistence that he could make the meal much better than Jack's favourite take-out, considering he was a ‘chef’.

You all sat down to watch Jack open his gifts, individually thanking each person who gave him something. He was especially taken by the gift Spencer got him, a book on dinosaurs, and he adored the bike. You’d gotten one that you'd made look similar to Sean’s motorbike, Jack was always obsessed with Sean's motorbike. You’d even drawn on specific details that made it even more unique. Everyone eventually trailed out and it was just you, Jack, Sean, and Aaron. Jack asked Sean to read his bedtime story. That meant you and Aaron were left to clean up together. You got up to start picking up plates but Aaron stopped you.

“Can I?” He offered and you nodded, sitting on the couch. You hadn’t eaten at dinner, all food just meant more vomiting in the morning and you were not up for that. “Can we talk?” He asked.

“About what?” You sighed, looking over at him. “I think we’ve both said enough.”

“I’m so sorry about last night,” he sighed, coming over to you and sitting beside you. “I was awful. I was disgustingly mean just because I was overwhelmed. You’re an amazing mother to Jack, while you’re not his biological mother, you love him as such and he loves you. You’re a great parent. I was just being reactive and mean. I was so cruel and I'm sorry. I don’t want an annulment. I want to be with you forever. I know that it isn’t a problem. I know how much you love Jack and me,” he chuckled humorlessly. “I know how little I deserve it.”

You took his hand. “What you said… it was probably my worst nightmare,” you chuckled flatly. “And what you said was pretty damaging, Aaron. I just… it completely restarted the voice in my head that says I’m a terrible parent. It made me scared to think about what’s going to happen when we have our baby. I was already terrified about being pregnant, and this was just…” you trailed off as Aaron’s heart broke. Your voice was raw with emotion. You were so hurt.

“I will spend the rest of my life proving to you that you are the best mother our children could ever have,” he promised and you smiled, but it lacked the regular spark your smiles usually contained.

“The best mother Jack could have is Haley. We both know that.”

Fuck. Now you were comparing yourself to Haley again. Aaron had quite literally set you back about 4 years in your confidence as Jack’s mother. “Honey-”

“I know it sounds bad, but we both know it’s true. I’m good, but as you said, I’m nothing compared to Haley. Which is fine Aaron. I understand my place.”

His heart broke for what felt like the millionth time. He’d hurt you so badly. “Honey please, I was stressed and overwhelmed and I took it out on you. I meant nothing I said. You’re the best mother to Jack and our unborn child. You are the love of my life-”

“I’m the second love of your life,” you smiled sadly at him. “I’m going to bed, goodnight Aaron.”

You walked up the stairs with a heavy heart. No matter what he said, you’ll always remember the look on his face when he told you that you weren’t enough, that you weren't Haley.

You fell asleep on your side of the bed, since you couldn’t exactly sleep in the guest room when Sean was in there.

Aaron leaned against the counter as he washed dishes, thinking about how he could fix this.

Could he even fix this?

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criminal minds masterlist

#criminal minds #criminal minds imagine #bau team #criminal minds fandom #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds fic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fluff #aaron hotchner angst #aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotch hotchner #hotch

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ellecdc · 2 months

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Hello beautiful! I have a request that is kinda personal! Anyways o was wondering if you could whip something up about reader and (which ever marauder you think best fits) who kinda has big boobs(like f/h) and is kinda self conscious about it (plus her weight cuz she’s chubby) because they sag and not all cute and perky and such? I could just use the comfort of a marauder and your writing 💕 -thank you lovely

I feel like we must be twins or something; I too am a plus-sized H cup girlie 🙋🏻‍♀️ thanks so much for requesting dolly; we're in this together 💖

James Potter x plus size, busty fem!reader

CW: insecurities, body image issues, negative self-talk, mentions of sex but no smut

You could hear the panicky tone of your whine teetering towards hysterical, but you swallowed past the lump in your throat as you discarded another article of clothing. The top joined the growing number of other shirts, dresses, and pants littering the floor of your closet. You were disturbingly close to tears and knew if you turned around to see your sweet, handsome boyfriend who had the audacity to sit casually on your bed without a single care in the world, it’d push you over the edge.

Apparently, he did have at least one care in the world.

“You almost ready, lovie? We have to leave soon if we want to get to Marlene’s on time.” James asked from his place, laying back on your bed as he threw a small stress ball above him and caught it only to fling it upwards again and again.

The worst part was how sweet he was about it; you’d never know from his gentle tone or word choice that he was basically accusing you of making the two of you late.

It would have been better if he’d been rude or snide, perhaps more overtly accusative – at least then you would have felt validated in how harsh your next words came out.

“I’m going as fast as I can, James.”

Though you didn’t turn away from your closet, you could tell he paused the ball throwing as he calculated your sudden mood change.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” He started carefully, moving to a sitting position. “I just know how much you hate being late, is all. I didn’t mean to rush you.”

Your next exhale came out a little shaky, but from your place in your closet, James couldn’t pick up on it.

“I know. I’m trying.” You said, working overtime to keep your voice even. He must have picked up on some of the tension anyways, as he rose from his place and came to stand behind you, hands moving to your shoulders instinctively. Unfortunately, with your current mindset – your shoulders immediately flew to your ears, effectively shaking him off of your body.

“Maybe you should go without me.” You admitted quietly. Suddenly, the idea of putting on anything except one of your oversized t-shirts and a pair of sweats felt like nothing short of torture.

“You don’t want to go?” He murmured just as quietly.

It’s not that you didn’t want to go – although, at this point your answer was leaning heavily towards hell no I don’t.

You loved Marlene; you were excited to celebrate her birthday, you got her a wonderful present you know she’ll be ecstatic over, and you always had fun with the group when you could all manage to get together. And besides, getting the whole group together was happening less and less now that you were all adults, living separately and working various jobs.

So no, it’s not that you didn’t want to go.

What you didn’t want was to look at yourself in even one more piece of clothing that was either too tight, too frumpy, too lowcut, or showed off too much skin.

Who even bought these clothes? Why do you own them?

If you asked your mother, she would simply say you were ‘well-endowed’, which roughly translated to ‘you inherited your grandmothers dreadfully large breasts, darling, I’m sorry.’

Some may wonder what defines ‘dreadfully large breasts’. In your case, it was an H cup.

Well-endowed could be used to describe one of those busty models in lingerie ads, not you.

Yours were large, and long, and marked with stretchmarks and not perky in the slightest. Nothing a good bra couldn’t fix though, right?

Wrong.

Bras that were big enough for breasts like yours were not at all cute. You had to special order them in most cases, and they were always beige or pink and they never did offer you as much lift you as much as you’d like.

If your boobs were the only part of your body causing you grief, you’d probably relent. But skinny girls don’t often have boobs this big, and it wasn’t just your tops that were bothering you.

Every pair of jeans and trousers you pulled over your hips felt too snug, too restrictive. You felt as if one wrong move and you’d pop right out of them like one of those Pillsbury biscuit containers.

James interrupted your mournful musings with a gentle “love?” and brushed the side of your wrist with his finger, clearly hesitant to touch you after you’d shaken him off earlier.

“I can’t find anything to wear.” You admitted.

James looked around at the clothing surrounding you before his bemused face turned back to yours. “What do you mean, love? It seems you’ve found a lot to wear.”

You rolled your eyes and felt the first tear fall. “James...” But he was already in problem solving mode.

“What about this?” He asked as he picked up a tank top you had discarded because the cut was too low, and the straps were too thin.

“I don’t have the right kind of bra for that.”

He looked between your bra covered form and the shirt, clearly not understanding what that meant but not willing to argue about it.

“Okay...” He said as he dropped the offending shirt back onto the floor. “What about this?”

You didn’t even bother looking at the shirt he was holding. “If it’s on the floor, it’s a no.”

“But why is it a no?”

You looked over to see the button up shirt he was holding. “Because it makes me look...” fat, was going to be the negative ending of your sentence, but James’ face turned hard as he cut you off.

“Beautiful?”

You scoffed. “Sure James, I decided against the shirt because it made me look beautiful.”

“Okay.” James said far more sternly than you believe you’ve ever seen him. You turned and grabbed a t-shirt, so you at least weren’t being scolded by your boyfriend half-naked.

“Am I attractive?”

You reared your head back at his question – not at all where you thought this conversation was headed. “Uhm, yes? Yeah...of course.”

“I’ll forgive the hesitation on account of you being upset.” He said severely which caused you to snort a laugh as you wiped tears away from your eyes.

“Is Sirius attractive?”

Your eyebrows furrowed and you could tell by James’ eyes moving towards your nose that you were scrunching it up in confusion.

“This feels like a trick.”

“You can answer the question honestly.”

“Okay...yes, Sirius is attractive.”

“Okay. And Mary? Is she attractive?”

“Yes.”

James nodded curtly. “And would you say that the three of us have good taste?”

“Wha-”

“Just answer the question.”

“Sure, you guys have good taste, but I don’t see-”

“You want to know what the three of us have in common?”

You sighed and nodded, knowing he was going to tell you regardless.

“We have nothing physically in common – yet you find all three of us attractive. Alternatively, all three of us have had a crush on you.”

You scoffed. “Shut up, James.”

“I’m not joking.” He said, and you noticed he was almost just as stern as he was when this conversation began. “Sirius said he’d never do anything about it – bro code and all...also he’s like, happy with Moony now or whatever. But Mary had no such qualms; she told me that if things don’t work out between the two of us that she’s throwing her hat in the ring. I made her promise not to tell you - in case you left me for her - but I figured this was a good moment to share.”

You barked a surprise laugh that seemed to ease some of the tension from James’ frame.

“Now, I don’t like the way you were just talking about my girlfriend.” He said gently, opening his arms as an invitation; an invitation you quickly accepted as you moved into his embrace.

“I’m sorry.” You murmured into his chest.

“You should be.” He murmured into the hair on your head.

“I just hate my body sometimes.” You admitted quietly. He never faltered in his gentle strokes of your back but hummed in acknowledgement.

“Well, I love it all of the time, so.”

“I don’t see how.” You whined as you pulled back. “My boobs are saggy, my tummy juts out, I’m soft everywhere, I’m covered in stretchmarks.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re just listing some of my favourite things, sweets. Your boobs?” He said as he moved his firm grip to your clothed breasts. “Look at that! Can’t even fit them in one hand.” He murmured, eyes glazing as he took in the view of your boob pooling around his large hand. “If I want to give your tits the attention they deserve, I need to use both hands! And your tummy...”

He moved his hands down your abdomen, albeit with more consideration than he’d shown your breasts. “I have to admit, this is my favourite spot to lay my head when we’re watching movies, but what I love the most about your tummy?” He said with a low growl as he spun you around aggressively, pushing the front of his hard body up against the back of yours, grabbing roughly at your hips/stomach as he moved his lips to your ears. “Gives me something to hold onto when I’m pounding into you from behind, or better yet, as you ride the fuck out of me.”

Your face was a furnace and you were sure James could feel the heat radiating from you as he spun you back to face him.

“What else were you worried about? Stretchmarks?” He said as he pulled his shirt off in one swift movement, showcasing his demi-god body style. “I’ve got them too.” He stated simply as he pointed to marks lining his biceps and pecs, a few on his hips, and pulled his trousers down slightly so you could see them trailing towards his ass.

“I know you’ve seen all of these before too – you’re no stranger to my body.” He said with a salacious wink.

“James...” you moaned, not able to handle anymore sexual innuendos.

“Okay, okay. I’m sure you get the idea.” He relented as he replaced his shirt. “My point is, you’ll look lovely in anything you put on, but I’d prefer you wear something you’ll be comfortable in. I can have my girl suffering in her head all night.”

You rested your forehead against his chest, willing away the tension headache that was forcing its way forward after all you just put yourself (and admittedly, James) through.

“What’s wrong with the shirt you’re wearing now?” He asked kindly.

You looked down at the old band-tee, it had a few holes in it and paint stains.

“It has holes in it and paint stains.” You deadpanned.

“Sirius always said to make dishevelled look intentional. Do you have a leather jacket?” He asked, turning toward your closet without waiting for an answer.

Suddenly, James was pulling a leather jacket around your shoulders, and grabbing a pair of heels.

“Now the stains and holes will look intentional. I think you look bad ass.”

You weren’t as optimistic, but you turned to observe yourself in the mirror. Even if you didn’t see much of a difference, the sight of James looking at you like you hung the moon was enough to convince you to go for it. Either way, you’d be comfortable.

You’re not sure if James had mentioned anything, but both Sirius and Mary made sure to compliment you on your ‘punk rock look’ when you arrived to Marlene’s party 30 minutes late.

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skz317cb97 · 1 year

Text

The Club

Bang Chan x Thick female reader

Word count: 6.3K

Synopsis: Friends to lovers such a cute trope... in theory. You go to the club with your two best friends and the clueless man you love, your roommate Chan. Will you be able to stand watching him hook up with yet another flawless girl that you could never compare to or are you finally at the end of your rope.

A/N: 18+ ONLY! I don't know where this came from I just knew I wanted to do another thick reader fic. I honestly pulled it from my ass which I guess is what all writing is really. ANYWAY! I hope you enjoy and if you do please reblog, comment, like, send an ask whatever I love to hear from you guys. As always warnings and smut below the cut!

Warnings: Body image issues, cussing/strong language, unprotected piv intercourse (please use protection), cream pie, crying after sex. I think that's all, this one is fairly tame. If I missed something please let me know and I'll add it to the warnings asap!

Your best friend and roommate Chan knocked on your bedroom door and then walked into your room a second after, a typical move on his part.

“Come right in why don’t ya.” You scoffed. Chan flashed his megawatt smile that you failed to see since you were laying on your bed face down after having the worst week of your life. He picked up one of your throw pillows and flung it at your head.

“Hey wake up! Minho and Jisung called, we’re going to the club tonight so get ready!” You rolled over looking at the ceiling and pushed the pillow Chan threw on the floor instead of flinging it back towards him, he frowned a little.

“Pass. You guys go without me.” The last thing you wanted to do was go and watch your three pretty best friends get hit on while you sat at a booth drowning your loneliness in whatever you felt like shooting back. It always happened and of course it did. They were three attractive men that could dance, they were articulate and kind as well. So they had their pick of the women whenever you all went out to the clubs. The club experience was not the same for you.

You were bigger than most if not all the other girls at the club and your dancing was mediocre at best. Most of the time you would dance for a bit with the guys and eventually, one by one, they would break off with whatever girl rubbed against them. Then you would make your way to a booth and be there for the remainder of the night. No one ever approached you except your friends who would regularly check up on you, sit for a bit, maybe order a drink, then back out on the dance floor. You were sure it was a great time for them and usually it didn’t bother you that much but after your day, your week, you didn’t have the energy. Chan was persistent and wasn’t having it though.

“What?! No no way we’re not going without you, we all always go together.” He grabbed you by your hands and you wished it didn’t make your heart race. Chan pulled you until you were sitting up.

“So get. Dressed.” You rolled your eyes and pulled your hands away.

“I said no Chan.” He rolled his eyes right back.

“Give me one good reason why?” He crossed his arms in front of him and you let out a huff of frustrated air. A good reason why? Because you’d had a horrible week and you didn’t want to watch Chan rubbing against and kissing another perfect girl that he would bring home and you would ultimately have to listen to the soft moans and panting of a stunning girl you could only ever wish to be. You couldn’t say that to him though, so you sat there quietly.

“See you don’t have one. Minho and Jisung will be here in forty-five. Get. Ready!” He spun around and left your room before you could argue more. So this would be your night, again. You just hoped your stupid heart could take it. Sure, being in love with your best friend and roommate is such a cute cliché trope until you’re living it, then its agony. You got up and started getting ready and by ready, you changed out of your work clothes into street clothes. You didn’t try, you just didn’t feel like faking it. So a basic pair of jeans, a tshirt, some converse, and your hair up in a ponytail was your attire for the evening.

Chan thought he was going to have to drag you from your room by force but when Minho and Jisung showed up you walked out dressed and ready. Naturally since Minho and Jisung were your two only other friends they knew you had feelings for Chan. Not because you ever told them, nor would you admit it when Minho would allude to it. Minho just wasn’t an idiot and had eyes and Jisung... well Minho told him everything. Jisung was skeptical still. As soon as you walked out Minho knew something was off. You weren’t your normal glow-y self. He made fun of you constantly calling you concentrated sunshine because you just had this glow about you that made others around you smile and even though he teased you for it he found it endearing and a wonderful quality to have in a friend but that night he didn’t see it. He walked up to you.

“You feeling okay?” You nodded.

“Yea sure like a million dollars.” You deadpanned and went to walk past him to follow Jisung and Chan out the door but he stopped you.

“Hey...” You looked at him and your eyes just looked empty.

“You sure you should be going out?” You took a deep breath and tried to get a grip.

“I’m okay Min really, let's just go please?” He was concerned but he wasn’t going to push you, not tonight at least. He grabbed your hand and you both headed out the door with your friends.

Once you all arrived at the club the guys migrated towards the dance floor like you all always did, dance, then drink. You broke off and made your way over to the bar quietly. When Minho turned to make sure you were still right behind him, he didn’t see you anywhere. Chan already had a gorgeous girl in a silver sling of a club dress shaking her ass and backing it up on him and Jisung was just dancing with the mass of people. Minho couldn’t just dance and have carefree fun knowing you weren’t, he walked over to Chan and his ‘dance partner’.

“Hey, did you see where y/n went off to? She was right behind me then gone.” Minho yelled over the music.

“Probably getting a drink she’s been in a mood today I don’t know why.” Minho watched the girl grind her ass against Chan’s crotch and Chan’s hand slid across her backside as he moved his hips with her. Minho rolled his eyes, of course he didn’t know why.

“You're my best friend but you’re an idiot sometimes...” Minho mumbled.

“Huh?” Chan couldn’t hear him over the music, Minho raised his voice over it again.

“I said I’m gonna check by the bar.” Chan nodded and waved at Minho as he made his way towards the bar rail. You had initially been at the bar but as soon as you had a drink you made your way over to one of the tables you would sit at usually. When Minho didn’t find you at the bar he knew he’d find you there. He slid in next to you at the booth you’d chosen for the night. You downed the rest of your glass and he looked at you.

“How many is that?” You looked at him blankly.

“Does it matter?” He arched one of his perfectly shaped eyebrows at you and narrowed his eyes. You sighed.

“It’s only my first calm down officer.” Minho nodded.

“Come, dance with me.”

“Pass.” Minho grabbed you by the hand and pulled you.

“I don’t think that was a request. Dancing, now.” You got up because at least you could get another drink in the process. Minho guided you towards the dance floor and started moving his body to the beat, you bobbed back and forth half-heartedly. By the second song Minho had gotten you to lighten up a bit, it helped that Jisung had joined you both and you had your friends near you. Well not all of them. You had been watching your feet or looking at Minho so you could read his lips when he spoke to you. Then you scanned the mass of people dancing and your eyes landed right on Chan and the silver dress girl making out and dancing, Chan’s hand gripping her ass as she giggled and he kissed her neck, their sweaty body’s moving in tandem with each other. Your face fell as your heart shattered into a million pieces. Minho could see it happening in your eyes. He scanned your line of sight and saw Chan and the girl. Before Minho could say anything, you excused yourself.

“I think I’m gonna be sick.” You pried your way through the people on the dance floor trying to get out of there and into the fresh air, you needed air. Jisung was confused when you dashed off and Minho just raised his hand as he followed you.

“Just... stay here I’ve got her.” Minho cut through the crowd right behind you. You burst out the club door and into the cool night, taking gasps of air trying to will any and everything in your stomach to stay put. Minho popped out a second later and almost bumped right into you.

“Hey, look... you know... about Ch-” You cut Minho off.

“It was just hot I needed some air.” Minho rolled his eyes at you.

“y/n I know-” You cut him off more forcefully, tears slightly collecting in the corners of your eyes.

“I was hot Minho!” He stopped, pushing you would do no good and he didn’t want to upset you more than you already were. You sniffled a bit and pushed the tears back down.

“I’ll be back inside in a minute.” He looked at you unable to hide the concern on his face.

“Promise.” You said. He accepted that and headed back inside. You got yourself together outside and made your way back into the club a few minutes after Minho. You walked up to the bar, you promised Minho you’d come back inside, you didn’t say you wouldn’t drink. You were done dancing for the night you were ready to drink and forget. Forget the image of Chan and some gorgeous girl dry humping on the dance floor that was burned into your mind. You got your drink, several in fact, and made your way to your table again. Your drink of choice? Instant amnesia, tequila shots. Shortly after shot number six? Seven? Who cared. Shortly after you knocked back yet another shot Minho, Jisung, and Chan all crowded the table, the beautiful girl in the silver dress glued to Chan’s side. Minho snatched the empty shot glass out of your hand frustrated.

“Did you drink all these?” He motioned at the slew of empty shot glasses in front of you. You just nodded and Minho sighed and looked over at Jisung who looked concerned but unsure how to help. The girl whispered something in Chan’s ear and he nodded laughing making Minho look over at him. Chan raised his eyebrows.

“What?” Minho shook his head and motioned towards you.

“Do you maybe wanna try and help me here?” Chan held up one finger to the girl. He slid into the booth seat next to you and she sat on the edge right by him.

“What’s up?” He nudged you and you shook your head.

“Why is everyone acting like this isn’t what we do every time we’re at the club? I drink and you guys...” You lifted your head enough to look over at the girl next to Chan.

“do you. Just leave me alone.” Chan didn’t get why you were acting like this. So you had a bad week at work, you didn’t usually take that out on them and you definitely were never so short with them.

“What’s your problem tonight?” You narrowed your eyes at him and then dropped your head back down.

“Just leave me alone, I’m always alone anyway just...” Chan got a look on his face like the lightbulb just went off. So that was it you were upset no guys were approaching you. When Minho saw that look on Chan’s face he was almost certain it was the wrong lightbulb going off and braced for grade A Chan foot in mouth material.

“Well of course, you’re dressed as frumpy as your attitude.” You looked at him with your jaw dropped as tears instantly pricked your eyes. Minho literally face palmed and even Jisung thought that was way harsh to say. Chan realized it was too far the moment it left his mouth.

“Move and let me out.” You said quietly but sternly. The girl stood while Chan put his hands up and didn’t budge.

“Wait...” You looked him right in the endless pools of brown you usually adored as your tears threatened to fall. It wasn’t even just that he’d said it but to say it in front of that beautiful girl, it tore your guts out.

“Bang Christopher Chan move, or I will scream.” You took a deep breath preparing to scream as loud as you could, a tear slipping down your cheek and he quickly got up. You pulled yourself out of the booth and walked away without a word as they all watched.

“Wow Chan of all the bone head things to say... I didn’t think you could say something so heartless, especially to y/n.” Before Chan could say anything Minho took off after you. You were drunk and crying against a brick wall when he found you. He promised not to ask or say anything, he just wanted to make sure you got home safe. He put his arm around you and walked you back to your apartment. Back in the club Jisung and Chan stood there in shock for a second. Neither of them had ever seen you like that before, then Jisung turned to Chan and gave him an angry look.

“I know I know I feel like shit I’ll go apologize to her.” Chan turned to the girl that had been his dance partner and then some for the night.

“Uhh sorry I’ve... I’ve gotta fix this, she’s my best friend.” She looked irritated but nodded and left for the dance floor again. Jisung suggested taking the long way back to your place to give you a little time to cool down and Chan decided that was probably a good idea. By the time you and Minho got to your place you had stopped crying. He led you to your room where he helped you take off your shoes and get into bed, you threw the cover back and peeled off your jeans leaving you in your panties before laying back. Minho’s face turned a little red and he looked away until you were covered again. He grabbed you a bottle of water and dragged your trash can by your bed in case you had to vomit. He went to leave your room and let you get some sleep but your voice came out tiny and shaky and it stopped him.

“He doesn’t love me.” Minho turned.

“Who?” He asked although he knew.

“Chan.” It was the first time you’d ever admitted out loud to him that you were in love with Chan. Minho knew Chan was oblivious to it and he knew Chan loved you; they all did, but he really didn’t know if Chan was in love with you.

“I don’t know, try not to think about it right now, okay? Get some rest.” You curled up and turned towards Minho.

“Min?” He hummed smiling softly at you, he hated seeing that spark in your eye smothered by your tears.

“Nothing.” He nodded.

“Good night y/n. Sleep well.” He pulled your bedroom door closed and locked up on his way out. On Minho’s way home he ran into Jisung and Chan who had taken the long way so were walking from the opposite direction. Chan jogged up to him quickly.

“Did you find her? Is she okay?” Minho nodded.

“Yea I found her. She’s home, she’s in bed now.” Chan sighed in relief.

“Thanks Min. I’ll make it right.” Minho nodded

“I sure hope so.” Then Minho and Jisung headed towards their own apartment. When Chan got home he made sure to quietly unlock the front door. When he turned to go down the hall towards your rooms there you were in your tshirt and panties braced against the wall trying to get to the bathroom to brush the taste of tequila out of your mouth. If you weren’t still drunk you would have been mortified to be standing in front of Chan in your panties.

“Oh hey, Minho said you were asleep already.” You shrugged.

“Sorry to disappoint you but I’ll be sure to put earbuds in so you and your slumber party pal can be as loud as you want.” Chan’s brow furrowed in confusion.

“Slumber party pal?” You pushed your fingers into your eyes and fought the migraine that was starting to form. You tried to walk into the bathroom and he stopped you.

“Wait. What are you talking about? Do you mean the girl from the club?” What did that have to do with it. Chan was confused.

“Yes the girl who’s attitude and certainly her dress were far from frumpy.” You could feel tears starting to form in your eyes again. You’d hoped you’d cried all you had in you. Chan felt the slap to the face your words were meant to carry.

“y/n I shouldn’t have...” You cut him off angry.

“You think I don’t know what you mean when you say that?!” Chan shook his head he didn’t understand, what he meant?

“That I’m fat! I’m fat and not pretty! I’m fat and why would anyone approach someone like me! That I wasn’t her! You don’t think I know it already?! I see the way you look at her and I see the way you look at me and I know!” You looked down crying and realized you were standing there like a fool with no pants on. You ran to your room and slammed the door grabbing sweats and pulling them on before crawling into your bed hopeful that it would swallow you and take you away. Your head was pounding and you felt like you wanted to throw up, you just wanted to disappear.

Chan stood there absolutely stunned. Why did you feel like you needed to compare yourself to that other girl? The alcohol was skewing your perspective, it had to be. You didn’t really think he meant that did you? You didn’t really think that about yourself, right? Sure the girl he was dancing with was beautiful but he thought you were beautiful too, you knew that, you knew he thought you were pretty. He thought it all the time when he watched you cooking dinner in the kitchen or when you both were curled up watching a documentary on sea cucumbers, he thought you were the prettiest when you laughed, which you did often... usually, not so much lately. You had to know because he thought it all the time... he thought.

Thinking and saying are two totally different things. He tried to remember a time he’d told you that you looked pretty or that he thought you were beautiful and he couldn’t think of one, he couldn’t think of not one time he’d actually said out loud that he thought you were pretty. Underneath he knew a lot of other feelings came up with that statement, feelings he wasn’t sure he was ready to deal with, feelings that may scare you, feelings that might make you uncomfortable. You lived together, things could get messy saying things like that, so he’d thought it all the time but looking back he’d never really said it. Then he said that. God he was an idiot.

He walked up to your door and could hear you sniffling on the other side. He knocked and then walked in like he always did. When he did you turned your back to him. Your voice was small again, choked.

“Go away.” Chan shook his head and took another step in.

“No. I need to say something.” You buried your head deeper into your pillow.

“Go awa-”

“I think you’re beautiful.” You closed your eyes tightly, tears soaking your pillow.

“Stop...”

“I think you’re so beautiful and your body is...” You sat up and faced him. He had to stop.

“Shut up! Chan just shut. Up!”

“And your body is perf-” You got up and stormed towards him. You started beating on his chest with your fists and he held your arms stopping you, your eyes closed tight crying even harder, screaming at him.

“Shut up! Shut up! Don’t lie to me! Don’t you ever fucking lie to me! I hate you! I hate you for doing this to me! I hate you for making me love you!” You collapsed to the floor in front of him, curled up sobbing and whimpering at his feet.

“Liar... I hate you...” You choked out quietly and Chan stood there frozen by your confession. He looked down and saw you, then laid down on the floor beside you. He didn’t try to make you talk or hold you, he just curled up and laid there with you so you weren’t alone. He’d never leave you alone, you were his best friend and so much more. It wasn’t long before all the night’s events caught up and you both fell asleep next to each other on the floor.

The next morning you woke up stiff and sore, your head was pounding not only from the alcohol but also the endless crying you’d done the night before. You winced as you opened your eyes and then realized the warmth behind you and an arm draped over you. You turned your head a little to look and saw Chan laying by you on the floor, his arm around you. You quickly scrambled away, waking him up in the process. You sat on the floor by your bed your knees pulled up to your chest. Your chest that felt so heavy, heavy filled with the memories and the pain from last night. Chan sat up and tried to see you through his sleep swollen eyes.

“Uh hey... um, good morning...” He said in his deep groggy voice. You bowed your head.

“Morning.” You replied quietly. Chan sat there and stared at you for a second until you started to squirm. He wasn’t sure what all you remembered from the night before. He finally snapped out of it and struggled standing up, stiff from sleeping on the hard floor.

“I uh... will let you wash up then.” You nodded and he turned and left your room. You grabbed a fresh tshirt and pair of sweats and hurried to the bathroom. You took the longest shower of your life, brushed your teeth and felt a little better. Not great but you could open your eyes all the way at least. As you were coming out of the bathroom Chan was walking into the hall from the living room and you almost bumped into each other.

“Oh, sorry.” He said as his hands gently held your arms to stop you from stumbling. You quickly pulled away.

“It’s fine.” You practically ran for your room and shut the door. Chan knew for sure that you remembered at least part of the night before. He ran his fingers through his messy curls frustrated with himself and went into the bathroom to shower as well. When he was done he threw on some shorts and as he pulled his tshirt over his head you tapped at his door.

“Yea?” You cracked it just a little and kept your eyes glued to the floor.

“Um, I... can I talk to you?” Chan nodded.

“Yea of course come-”

“In the living room whenever you're done.” You quickly added. He frowned a little but shook his head.

“Yea I’ll be right out.” You gave him a single nod and closed the door. It wasn’t long before Chan walked out into the living room. You were sitting on one end of the couch just kind of zoned out until he walked in. He walked over and sat on the other end of the couch turned towards you. When you finally willed yourself to look at him you couldn’t help the small frown that shifted onto your face when you saw him sitting there with his wet curls and hopeful eyes. Chan’s heart squeezed in his chest seeing your frown.

“I think I should move out.” Like a bucket of ice water was thrown on Chan, that was his expression.

“WHAT? WHY!?” You scoffed at his reaction and his question.

“Seriously Chan? You know why. I was drunk but I remember everything. I just... need some... space, some time away...” You watched your hands as you picked at your cuticles.

“From me?” Chan said pained. You looked up at him with tears rimming your eyes and nodded. It was like the wind had been knocked out of him and he was hit with a realization that he’d taken so much for granted, a realization that he was losing you. You stood up to head back to your room and Chan gently grabbed your wrist stopping you.

“Last night, when I told you you’r-” You shook your head.

“No, stop. I’m going to pack a bag and stay with Minho and Jisung for now. As soon as I have arrangements made I’ll let you know and be back for my things, I’ll try to be quick.” Tears were streaking Chan’s face now as well as your own. You pulled your wrist free and did just as you said you were, you went to your room and packed clothes and toiletries to take with you to Minho and Jisung’s. On your way out you crossed through the living room and Chan was sitting in the same spot, still with tears running down his cheeks. You walked over and when you knelt in front of him he looked over at you, his eyes glassy with tears. You pushed his damp curls back, and he sniffled, you softly kissed his cheek and then stood and left. Chan broke down crying when he heard the door click closed behind you.

When you got to Jisung and Minho’s place the first thing you did was fall into Jisung’s embrace and cry uncontrollably. You had been strong through the whole thing and now you didn’t have to be so you cried. Jisung sat on the couch with you and let you while Minho made some tea for you all. After a good cry and some tea you got unpacked in the guest room. You all were settled in the living room watching tv after dinner when there was a knock at the door. Minho and Jisung, one on each side of you, looked at each other. Neither were expecting anyone but both knew exactly who it was, you did too. Minho got up to answer the door.

“Min...” You called him. He turned and saw your eyes, big and worried. He held up a finger nodding and turned to go answer the door. When he opened it unsurprisingly Chan was standing there.

“I need to talk to y/n.” Chan tried to walk in and Minho blocked him.

“You need to give it some time Chan there’s more to this for her than you realize.” Chan pressed his lips together tightly; he knew what was at stake and he wasn’t going to lose you without a fight.

“Minho, I need to talk to her let me through.” Minho shook his head.

“Chan-”

“She needs to come home!” Chan said loudly.

“y/n please come home!” He shouted into the apartment

“Please! Just stay with me!” Minho pushed Chan out of the doorway and walked into the hall with him pulling the door closed behind him.

“What the hell are you doing man? Are you hearing me? There’s more to this than you think!” Chan pushed back against Minho.

“I’m in love with her! She needs to come home, she needs to be home with me! So I can apologize, so I can cook her favorite dinner and grab that lemon lime sorbet that she loves at the corner store, so I can hold her and kiss her and tell her everything I should have long before now.” Chan shouted, huge tears in his eyes. Minho was stunned. Once he had his wits about him again he shook his head.

“All that aside Chan. It’s not the time for this. Just... give her some time.” He spoke softly, Minho didn’t want to have to hurt his friend and turn him away but he couldn’t hurt you either. Chan nodded, turned, and left without another word, he understood. When Minho walked back into the apartment you were standing at the opening of the foyer wide eyes filled with tears.

“Mi-Minho... did... Chan... did he just...”

“Say that he loved you?” You nodded and a tear fell.

“Yea, he did.” You took a deep shuddering breath and braced yourself against the wall.

“He looked awful. It’s only been part of a day but he looked like absolute hell not having you home.” You nodded, staring off as your thoughts spun a million miles an hour in your head. Chan loved you? Like you loved him? It was impossible. You didn’t know what to do. You were so confused. You had so many questions. You finally looked up at Minho.

“Wha- should I go home? What do I do?” Minho shrugged.

“Do you love him still?”

“I’ll always love him.” Minho raised his brow at you knowingly. It was late but you didn’t care. You ran to the guest room, threw on some jeans and your tennis shoes and started towards you and Chan’s apartment. When you got there you unlocked the door quietly and tip-toed in so you didn’t make any noise in case Chan was already asleep. You walked into the living room and Chan was on the couch. His head was tilted back resting on the back of the couch and his arm was thrown over his eyes. You weren’t sure if he was sleeping or not. You made your way over and stood in front of him. When Chan felt someone standing near him he jumped before he realized it was you. He relaxed and sat there looking up at you with big brown glassy eyes.

“y/n?” You nodded trying to fight back your own tears already. He didn’t say anything he just sat up and wrapped his arms around your midsection and hugged you, his head resting on your soft tummy. You hugged him, your fingers resting in his curls. He leaned back and looked up at you and you pushed his curls back away from his face.

“I’m so sorry y/n, I should’ve never said that to you it wasn’t right and I...” You shook your head.

“We have a lot to talk about and we will, I just have one question right now.” Chan nodded, his eyes piercing into yours.

“Are you in love with me?” Chan shook his head up and down without a second of hesitation. He did, he knew.

“Say it.” He sat up straight and looked at you, into you.

“I’m in love with you y/n. I love you. I love you so m-” You leaned down and kissed him softly. He cupped your face and tilted his head, deepening the kiss. You broke away to take a breath and Chan pressed his forehead against yours, his hands resting on your wide hips, guiding you to kneel and rest on his lap, a thick thigh resting on either side of Chan’s strong legs. His hands slid down your thighs and squeezed even through the material it sent a shiver up your spine. You steadied yourself by holding on to Chan’s broad shoulders. Those same strong hands squeezing your thighs came up and held your face so softly, his thumb grazing the apple of your cheek. Tears started to well up in your eyes, Chan gently shook his head and pulled you in to kiss you again, pulling at your bottom lip with his teeth softly. You opened your mouth allowing him to slide his tongue inside. Chan wrapped his arms around you and pulled you all the way down onto his lap and you could feel him pressing into you making you throb with want as he devoured your lips. His hands ghosted down your back and rested on your hips urging you to move against him and you moaned into the kiss.

“Sound... so pretty... baby girl.” He mumbled as he kissed down your neck. You could feel yourself getting wetter hearing the sweet pet name. You tilted your head giving him better access to his target.

“Ch-Chan... wha-what are we... doing?” You panted as your hips ground together, as his hands gripped, and his lips explored. He pulled away when you asked, he was a little red and breathless chewing at his bottom lip.

“Uh wha... what do you want?” You looked at him and pushed his curls back away from his beautiful face again.

“You.” He smiled and touched your face.

“Then... I’m yours.” You kissed him hard then scrambled to get up and get your jeans and panties off. As soon as Chan realized what you were doing he lifted his hips and pulled his shorts and briefs down to his ankles. You quickly climbed back onto his lap, there was no time to be shy or bashful as Chan lined up his cock with your wet hole and eased you down on to him. You both moaned and you gasped when you were fully seated in Chan’s lap again, only this time with his dick buried deep inside you.

“Oh god!” Chan held onto your hips, his lip between his teeth, eyes closed tightly as he felt you squeeze his length with your warm soft walls. When he finally opened his eyes he saw you looking down at him, your eyes sparkling. You pulled at the hem of his shirt and took it off over his head running your hands up and down his firm torso over his chest and abs and back up again. Chan sat up his cock moving inside you deliciously making you squirm as his hands traveled up your plush body lifting your shirt up and over your head, your full breasts lined up with his face, he sucked on one and then the other, squeezing and pushing them together then raking his teeth across your hard nipples.

“Ch-Chan... please...” He let go of your breasts and his hands slid down your curvy frame and rested on your ass. He leaned back on the couch then squeezed and pulled your hips forward and then pushed them back as he rolled his hips up into you.

“Like that baby girl... ride it just like that.” You planted your hands low on his abs and pushed your hips forward and then back again on your own. You moved again and again and set a rhythm. Chan’s head rolled back and his eyes closed.

“Does it feel good?” You needed to know you he was enjoying it, you wanted to make him feel good. Chan looked at you blushing and smiling as you rode his cock.

“Mhmm yes, you feel so good baby, don’t stop.” He squeezed your thick ass and urged you to move faster. Your breaths shortened as your hips moved quicker.

“G-gonna cum... Ch-Chan go-gonna cu-” Your eyes rolled back into your head as you wrapped your arms around Chan’s head hugging him tight, his face buried in your big tits again. Chan could feel you dripping down his cock as you came on top of him, your hips stuttering and Chan helped you ride it out as he rolled his hips up into you harder. When you finally let go of him Chan slumped back on the couch again, held up your hips forcing you forward making you brace onto the back of the couch and with his strong hands holding you up he started pounding into you from underneath not only chasing his own high but sending you nosediving into another orgasm. More of your arousal dripped down his cock and there was a lewd smacking sound every time Chan hammered his dick into your wet cunt. He put you down and sat back up pulling you close as your cunt took his whole cock. It was messy grinding and rubbing and wet and as you shook and trembled through your third orgasm. Chan pulled you closer still, he held you tight and came deep inside you as he cupped your face and sweetly kissed your lips. You sat there sweaty and out of breath on Chan’s lap your head resting on one of his shoulders, his arms wrapped around you as his cock softened inside you. When you caught your breath and the adrenalin wore down the gravity of what just happened hit you like a train and you started to cry. Chan pulled you up and held your face worried.

“Hey hey, what’s wrong huh? Baby don’t cry.” Hearing him call you by the sweet pet name only made you cry harder. He hugged you close again and grabbed the throw blanket off the back of the couch and wrapped it around you. He rubbed your back and held you until you were calm again.

“Sorry it was just a lot of big feelings all at once and I got a little overwhelmed.” Chan shook his head as he continued tracing shapes on your back to soothe you.

“Don’t be sorry I understand. Are you okay now?” You nodded and sat up and Chan smiled at you his dimples popping up.

“Good. Why don’t we wash up and get to bed. We’ll talk about everything first thing tomorrow, including you moving out of your room. You were confused and frowned a little.

“You... you still think I should?” Chan nodded.

“Absolutlely. My room is bigger so it just makes sense for you to move into mine over me moving into yours.” You let out a huge sigh of relief and shoved him a little. He hugged you close and kissed your neck.

“I love you baby girl.” You melted into his hug.

@acciocriativity @caroline-ds-world @chansynie @ughbehavior @jquellen27 @fixation-dump @lachinitaaaaa @rinrinndou @bangchans-angel @laylasbunbunny @owo-manii-uwu @armystay89 @b00dyguts @purplenimsicle @caticorn61 @lauraneuuh @channieandhisgoonsquad @life-is-glorious @minnysproutgriffinteddy

“I love you too Chan.”

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #chris bang smut #skz317cb97 #cal 🖤

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towards-toramunda · 8 months

Text

Thinking about more iconic lines from the show over the years instead of going to bed and created a list that is far too long:

- What’s my mother’s name?

- My best. Finally.

- I have so many flowers to bring to her.

- You were not born with venom in your veins. You learned it. You learned it.

- Don’t get on my ass about it! All I heard is that its pretty easy to do here thats all I took from what you said. (Bonus: its for the god of arts and crafts)

- At dawn, we plan.

- Doo doot doo doo doot doooo donuts!

- What matters more, the dream or the dreamer?

- Sleep well with your bad decisions.

- Nothing happens for a reason. It’s absolute fucking chaos.

- Patience is fine, but it can curdle into apathy.

- I’ve met the devil, thats not him.

- You never take copper. That's just kicking someone while they're down. You take silver if they're an asshole, and you take gold regardless.

- Time is one of my specialties.

- It’s entirely off-putting how disarmingly charming you are.

- How lucky I am to have had all of you. How lucky indeed.

- I smell like a crayon.

- I could tell by the bone structure and the contempt.

- I think I can punch ghosts now.

- Big moon, little moon.

- Pop, pop!

- I need chaos. I have faith in chaos.

- Molly said not to steal from happy people.

- I am going to tell you the story of how I murdered my mother and father.

- Smiley day to ya!

- I killed my family, I’ll throw you under a bridge.

- We’re on the moon bitch.

- She throws it. I shoot it. It explodes! NO STRUCTURAL DAMAGE! (FLUFFERNUTTER)

- I am all for faith, and I'm not going to pick a god. They can pick me. It'll be the first one that actually praises me and then maybe I'll fucking answer. I'll wait. They can fucking beg. And I will listen, which is more than they ever fucking did.

- I would like to RAGE!

- The worst thing that has happened to me has already happened.

- We're running; it's bad.

- You can reply to this message.

- Dagger, dagger, dagger.

- Opinions are like opera. Sure, you can listen to them, but why would you, really?

- There is no god that strides this world that I worship more than I worship your heart.

- I would like to live long enough to be someone else.

- Help, its again.

- Whoever it was, just put it back. I think they've earned it. Put it back.

- I’m fun scary.

- Sorry, babe. Gotta handle these ninjas.

- I’m the cleric? I’ve never traveled with a bunch of people I thought would die in front of me.

- He thinks I’m gonna go into the water for some fucking buttons.

- You are, at the moment, the luckiest person in Whitestone. Do you know why? Because you’re at the bottom of my list.

- You need me more than I need you.

- I protect him. He’s my boy. And I keep him safe.

- I made the earth remember him.

- Come correct or get corrected.

- Do not go far from me.

- Are you worth saving?

- How do I want to do this?

- Heaven to some, and hell to others.

- Fix him!

- Why do we tell stories?

- Do you spice?

- Listen you fucking jungle! I'm a paladin of the Wildmother. You're going to move or we're going to bust you wide open! We'll wreck this place. Don't make me fucking tell you twice!

- I am your god, long may I rein, eat of my fruits.

- Anybody can make lights. Anybody could send a message through a wire. I want to bend reality to my will.

- Would you like to talk before or after?

- What the fuck is up with that?

- To reach a hand down to somebody, they need to be beneath you! And I'm beneath nobody.

- The one eyed monster slayed my pussy.

- Time is a weird soup.

- I’m killing someone. Hold, please.

- Gold is a resource by which mortaldom climbs.

- Why are you so mean to me?

- Yours is the face I saw when murder entered my heart.

- This one time I saw a bug carrying a piece of bread that was like five times its size and he was carrying upstairs, like up and then he would turn, and then up, and then he would turn.

- I live as long as Whitestone lives.

- Vox Machina! Fuck shit up!

- I’m not disappointed, I’m just angry.

- Someone prayed for a miracle and there you were.

- We don't leave people behind. That's just the rule. You do not leave people the fuck behind.

- Call me child one more goddamned time!

- Finish it, Champion.

- I am of the Empire. But I am no friend to the Empire.

- I think it has been a long time since anyone has pointed out to you that you're a fool. Pain doesn't make people, it's love that makes people. The pain is inconsequential. It's love that saves them. And you would know that but you have none around you. You said so yourself, you surround yourself with lies and deceptions. And I wish for you, in the future, to find someone to mourn you when you are gone.

#critical role #cr3 #bells hells #cr2 #the mighty nein #cr1 #vox machina #there are so many good ones #by all means reblog with more keep them coming #my god taliesin has so many good ones they’re insane

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blegh-110 · 10 months

Text

Have I found you, flightless bird? (4/?)

Pairing: Soft!Dark!Tangerine x Fem!Crybaby!Reader

Summary: In which you’re resistance against Tangerine is breaking.

Chapter Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, kissing, SMUT: fingering, spanking

Word Count: 8.3k

You don’t know how much time has passed by since you were first taken here. You tried to keep track at first and were doing well, but then the days started to blend together and you couldn’t remember what you’d done the day before. Which wasn’t much.

Even though there were many rooms for your entertainment, you refused to use them because using them means giving into Tangerine. And that was the absolute, last thing you wanted.

As you lay in bed and begin going over your day, you have a realization that you will have to wake up and do it all over again; absolutely nothing.

There are a few times where you’re so overcome with anger towards Tangerine, and his actions that he believed were acts of kindness and love, that you take it out on anything and aren’t fearful of the consequences. Like right now, when he’s made you dinner, nothing out of the ordinary from the daily routine. But today you are feeling especially enraged, just staring at Tangerine makes you want to scream. You sit at the dinner table and watch him cook one of your favorite meals. You can’t look away from him as your negative emotions rise, and you have no interest in looking away and calming yourself down. No, you want to continue being livid and get a reaction out of the deranged man, just so you can have more reason to loathe him.

Tangerine begins cutting your food and that just about does it. Again, this is nothing out of the ordinary, he always cuts your food into smaller bits. But today is not one of your best emotionally, the fact that he believed you weren’t capable enough to cut your own food set you off. But that wasn’t the reason why Tangerine cuts your food, he just wants to take care of you and not let you lift a single finger.

He walks over to the dinner table and places the plate in front of you. At this point, Tangerine can see your emotional state and is just waiting for the moment you snap. But he thinks you’ll act out verbally, so when you pick up your plate of food and throw it across the room, he freezes. The closest you ever did something like that was on that very first day, when you had tried to escape.

The glass shatters on the kitchen floor and the sauce splatters everywhere. You look at Tangerine and hope to see his eyebrows furrowed together paired with a furious frown, but he only sighs and walks back to the stove, making you another plate.

“Please eat, you’ve hardly had anything today, love.” He says when he comes back, then leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek and tends to the mess, which leaves you feeling a mix of emotions. You’re confused, but at the same time relieved, as well as empty and unsatisfied. Worst of all, you suddenly felt guilt slowly fill up your empty stomach as you watched Tangerine clean up your mess from the floor.

And when he was getting you ready for bed and brushing your hair, he spoke about what you did, and you feel awful.

“(Y/N), what you did tonight was not okay. I understand you are still getting used to living here and maybe you don’t know how to deal with that, which is okay, but you have to tell me you aren’t feeling alright.” Tangerine speaks. He chooses his words carefully, wanting to get it into your head that the way you acted was out of line, but he doesn’t want to make you feel like a bad person. You just needed a little reminder.

But you’re extremely sensitive, and the smallest scolding made you upset at yourself and cry. And this is no different.

You nod your head guiltily, not wanting to speak and risk breaking down. All you want is to be held, like the first time you met him on the train. He was so sturdy but soft. You need to feel one hand smoothing down your hair and the other rubbing circles on your back. The closest you come to that is when he takes your hand in his and leads you to your shared bed, where he lifts up the comforter and lets you crawl into bed. Instead of joining you, he begins walking out.

“Where are you going?” You whispered, the ball in your throat not allowing you to speak any louder.

“I’m sleeping in a different room tonight,”

At this moment, you want to beg him not to go and promise him that you’ll never behave like that again, but you say nothing. Tangerine sees the heartbroken look on your face and is ready to backtrack on your punishment, but he knows what he’s doing has to be done.

“I don’t want to do this, there is nothing more I have enjoyed than sleeping next to you, but I need you to understand that there are consequences to your actions.” He says while holding your face in his hands.

“If you need anything, come out and tell me, I’ll just be in the guest room, okay?”

You nod your head and stare at his blurry figure through your teary eyes. Once he leaves (without a kiss) and the door closes, the tears fall and you become frustrated and confused.

Why am I acting this way? You think.

You should be happy that you have a night to yourself without tight arms wrapped around you. Instead, you’re cold and lonely as you lay in bed. And so incredibly guilty to the point where you think you’ve ruined Tangerine’s thoughts about you. You convince yourself that he hates you now, that your actions truly angered him so much that he didn’t want to see you or be near you.

As you silently cry yourself to sleep, you can only agree with the bad thoughts and sink deeper into your insecurities and sadness.

Tangerine is quick to get out of bed and get dressed when he wakes up. His plan was to get up early and make you a nice breakfast, an extra special one because you took your punishment very well and he feels awful for doing that to you. But he ditches that plan because he wants to see you as soon as possible and check to see how you’re doing.

He opens the door and is greeted with a sad sight. You’re already awake, you have been for the past hour, and you’re sitting up with slumped shoulders staring at the wall with sad eyes. You don’t turn to him when the door opens, you don’t even notice it, too spaced out.

“Oh, darling.” He says to himself and walks towards you. You see him in the corner of your eye but don’t dare to look at him.

“Let’s go downstairs and get something in your stomach, yeah?” He whispers and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. His soothing voice and gentle touch are already making you feel better, but that guilt is still there, heavy on your chest. Every bad thought you had created throughout the night only clouded your judgment. You feel like a burden.

“C’mon.” Tangerine takes your hand in his rough ones and stands you up from the sheets.

Once in the kitchen, that awful feeling on your chest spreads to your stomach, making your hunger worse. Thankfully, Tangerine doesn’t let go of your hand or stop any of his physical touch, he can clearly see the regretful state you are in.

For just a second your heart drops when he lets go of your hand, but then you find yourself sitting on top of the counter. The coldness on your thighs not only makes you shiver, but it also deepens you into your sorrowful mood. You’re distressed and hyperaware of everything, you felt yourself on the edge of crumbling into a ball and breaking down.

While you felt your world about to crash, Tangerine glanced at you and once again felt his own heart break. He saw your stiff body, furrowed eyebrows, and anxious eyes filling up with tears, and decided that you’ve had enough.

Then Tangerine’s arms are around you, engulfing your entire being in a hug. And all of those bad feelings and thoughts are gone in an instant. His tight grip brings you back down to earth and makes you let out the breath you were holding since last night.

“You did so well for me, (Y/N). So proud of you,”

“Missed you so much last night, couldn’t even sleep properly without you,”

“M’not letting you go tonight.”

His words make you start crying and grip his shirt, for the first time you completely melt into him and the endless caresses. It’s enough to make you confess some of those upsetting feelings.

“M’sorry, feel so bad. And I was so cold and lonely and-” You don’t finish your sentence when a cry leaves your mouth, your words also take an effect on Tangerine when he somehow holds you closer.

“All is forgiven, my love. It’s over now.” And he gives you a long kiss on your cheek, the first one since your punishment, that gives you butterflies and makes you dizzy. His affection and gentle kisses to your face make you want to return it, to wrap your arms around him and press your mouth against his. You shake your head to clear your mind, yet you nuzzle your head into his shoulder for more comfort.

After holding on desperately to each other for a while longer, Tangerine has to tear himself away from you despite your whines and your pretty eyes threatening to spill more tears.

“I know, I know, v’got to get you some food. What do you feel like, lovely?”

You have trouble answering, getting flashbacks from last night. You also don’t feel like you’re able to speak properly, so you shrug your shoulders.

“That’s alright. I can make some pancakes, waffles, french toast-” You perk up at french toast, your unknowing craving suddenly being solved.

As he makes your meal, you’re still sitting on the counter watching him with many thoughts. You feel a certain fondness for Tangerine. It was something about you letting out your emotions in a nasty way, and instead of hurting you like you thought he would, Tangerine made you another plate full of food and pleaded for you to eat. He didn’t hurt you or berate you or call you names, like your parents would’ve. Not only that, but you couldn’t take your eyes off of his figure.

Luckily, he was turned away from you, now cutting up fresh fruit. Your eyes couldn’t help but wander from his broad shoulders to his forearms to his ringed fingers. Despite this, there was nothing that could make you admit how attractive he was in his white button up shirt and his dress pants. Then you look down at your own attire and feel not only underdressed but gross as well. Even though your pajamas were cute, a short lilac nightgown with lace hemming, you felt it did not compare to Tangerine’s dark blue suit. Pair that with your teary, wet face and stuffy nose after your breakdown, you feel ugly.

You are once again too caught up in your own thoughts to notice Tangerine walking back to you, the feeling of his body sliding between your thighs brings you back to him. His closeness and the smell of him makes you shy.

Tangerine then brings up both of his hands, one has a firm grip on your chin to hold you still, and the other holds a napkin that wipes away your tears with a touch so light you can barely feel it. But it's enough to dry your face. While he’s finishing up, you have the chance to get a closer look at him. Your breath gets caught in your throat when you notice the first few buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned, showing just a glimpse of his chest and his gold necklace. The contrast of his masculine look and his gentle actions makes you swallow.

Tangerine notices this and smirks. His hand on your chin drops down to hold your jaw, making the butterflies in your stomach spread all over your body.

“Almost done now, just hold still for me.” Tangerine whispers and wipes your other cheek. You feel a sound bubbling in your throat but you suppress it. Unfortunately, it comes out when he brings his hand down with the napkin and gives you a firm kiss at the corner of your mouth, still with his hand holding your jaw.

It takes everything within you not to bring him back to you and lay a real kiss on his lips, it takes all of your self control not to cry when he puts just a little bit of distance between the two of you.

“Thank you, darling.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tangerine smiles at your quick response before feeding you some french toast. You hum at the sweet taste of the dish and the warm feeling it gives you in your stomach. He gives you another forkful when you feel syrup on the corner of your mouth, but just as you’re about to wipe it away, Tangerine beats you to it. Using his thumb to swipe it away and putting it in his mouth to get rid of the sticky feeling. You shift your eyes away at the scene, your shyness only becoming more apparent.

“Look so pretty right now.” Tangerine says while fiddling with the strap of your nightgown. You feel like you’re about to burst at the feeling of his fingers against your skin, but you want more.

“Thank you.” You mumble when he puts a strawberry slice in your mouth with his fingers.

You’re frustrated. Even though he’s giving you a lot of attention and soft touches, you want more. And even that itself frustrates you even more. You should not want this man's hands anywhere near you. But it’s hard not to when he’s breathing down your neck, feeding you himself, and looking so handsome. This would’ve been a dream come true for you if it weren’t for the circumstances.

You don’t voice any of your thoughts. Instead, you let Tangerine continue feeding you.

It was about a week later after the dinner incident and your punishment. You try not to think about it too much, just remembering how you felt alone in your room made your heart hurt. And as a result, something inside of you changed.

Since that night and the morning after, you had a need and a certain hunger for Tangerine.

You wake up in the morning to his kisses on your skin. It was nothing out of the ordinary. But the past few days were different. Instead of turning your head away or turning your back to him, you let him kiss all over your face down to your neck where he becomes just a bit rougher.

You let out a sigh when you feel one of his hands rub up and down your back, taking away the morning chill. But the goosebumps only come back when you feel him begin to suck on your skin for the first time. The feeling of his teeth on your sensitive skin makes you moan and clutch onto his bare shoulders, where you feel his muscles.

The two of you stay like this for who knows how long. You're completely comfortable in Tangerine’s warm arms, feeling blissed out with just him mouthing your neck and touching you all over your body. All you can do is lay down and let him ravish you.

You then hiss when he bites a little too hard, but the pain shoots down to your core, making your eyes flutter open. You weren’t sure when you last felt this way. You didn’t exactly have time before to go out and have fun, especially with men. You’d gone on a few dates and even fewer hookups with guys who really only cared for their pleasure, always leaving you dissatisfied. But you figured that was normal and got used to douchebags. Just the small amount of their attention, even if it was just for the night, was enough for you. Which was why you weren’t fighting Tangerine off of you.

Since that night on the train, he has always given you his undivided attention. And because of your rocky history with men, you felt yourself slowly basking in it. Not only because it had been a while since a man was affectionate with you, but also because Tangerine was clearly focusing on your pleasure. When your fingers clenched his shoulders and a breathy moan escaped your lips, he only provided more of his sucking and kissing.

You feel Tangerine just about to pull away to look at his attack on your neck, but your whine and tightening arms stop his movements. Despite his ability to pass through your arms without having to try, he is easily pulled closer to you.

Once you’ve pulled him back down, the need to plant your mouth on his comes back. The two of you haven’t shared a kiss yet, since you’ve been with him, it has only gone as far as kisses on the face. And it was Tangerine giving those out. You weren’t comfortable enough to give the man the same affection before.

But now, you can’t take your eyes off of him and his pretty lips. Nor can you stop your hands from rubbing his bicep up and down. Your eyes go from his lips to the entirety of his face. The morning light behind him made him look ironically angelic. His hair was curly and unkempt, you couldn’t help but trail your hand up his arm, over his shoulder, up his neck, and finally running your hand over his scalp. You scratched lightly and began twirling a strand of hair around your finger. You were completely captivated by him.

Tangerine’s own eyes began to flutter shut, your touch igniting a fire inside his stomach.

Testing the waters, you stare at his lips above you and slowly lay a small kiss on them.

There was no tongue or open mouths. Just a peck, which left Tangerine having to hold himself back from bruising your lips, in a I-care-for-you-so-much kind of way. He just has so many emotions and wants that have been bottled up since the first time he saw you. But from now on, he needs to let you be the one to call the shots and be in control. Your relationship would go nowhere if he always had complete power over you. The only exception being laying kisses on your face, that is something he can’t help himself with. You’re just too pretty and sweet not to love up on.

The feeling of your lips on Tangerine’s makes your heart stop. So you lay another one, this time staying just a bit longer.

You sigh into his mouth when he begins moving his lips against yours, catching your bottom lip between his own. You hesitantly began moving along with him, parting your mouth slightly and gasping when Tangerine’s tongue slips into your mouth. You open wider for him and let him lick into your mouth, you can’t help letting a few moans out.

Your fingers grip the strands of his hair, tugging him closer, almost painfully, against your mouth when you feel Tangerine sucking on your tongue. You’ve kissed boys before, but never like this. The ones before, you were cautious and careful about how you were kissing, and the guys were messy and slobbery. Everything was very uncoordinated.

But this was something else. Tangerine knew exactly what to do and when to do it. It was also messy, but not in a way where you wanted to pull away and wipe your mouth. You wanted more, you wanted to taste Tangerine more. This time, you didn’t care for what you were doing, only focusing on tasting his lips.

Tangerine then pulls away, just to take another look at you, but not without having to fight you. He tries to lift his head up, but your arms tighten themselves around his neck and you move up with him, desperate not to let him go.

“Let me see you, pretty.” He says in between kisses, finding hard himself to pull away, but you relent. His words go in one ear and out the other, except for “pretty”. That has you pulling him in even more. But unfortunately, Tangerine is way bigger and stronger than you.

With his lips still on yours, he takes one arm and easily removes your hand from his neck and does so with the other, pinning them down above your head on your pillow. Without your grip, he now is able to take a look at you, but not without laying just a few more bruising kisses. Once he finally pulls away, the sight of you has him groaning and he can’t believe how beautiful and already wrecked you looked with just some silly morning kissing.

Your hair is all over the pillows and bushy from his hands, your eyes are half open and begging him to do something, and your mouth is releasing fast pants from your priority to kiss than to breathe. Your chest goes up and down and you look so fucking gorgeous in your little pink nightgown that has ridden up your thigh, just under the spot you both want him to be. He’s in a trance just staring at you, but is soon taken out when he hears your whine and feels you trying to release yourself against his hands. Tangerine, although also wants to continue and go further if you let him, decides he wants to mess and play with you for a bit.

“Awe, is my baby needy?’ He asks and comes close to your lips, just a hair away from touching them. With teary eyes and a pretty pout, you nod up at him. You’ve now been with Tangerine long enough to know that that combination is more than enough to get what you want. You’ve used it on multiple occasions. But Tangerine wills himself not to give in to you.

He coos and gives you a faux pout, “Well, that’s just too bad, darling.”

He goes back to nipping at your neck before placing both of your hands in one of his, taking his free one to lightly grip your neck. The feeling makes you close your eyes and moan loudly. You’ve been wanting his hands around your throat for some time now, since that morning he wiped away your tears in the kitchen.

Tangerine takes his free hand and slides it under your back, pulling you up towards him and making you arch your back. That’s when you feel it, his bulge against your stomach. You gasp when you can feel how big it is as Tangerine begins grinding against your stomach, the size of his cock making you simultaneously nervous and excited. You wonder if it would ever fit inside of you.

You attempt to free yourself from his hand, wanting to touch Tangerine anywhere you could. But he grabs your leg and hikes it around his waist, now rubbing himself onto your core. You let out another moan before Tangerine catches your mouth in a bruising kiss, tongue in your mouth and lapping at your own.

You feel overwhelmed, all your senses feel like they’ve been dialed up to the maximum. All you can hear are Tangerine’s grunts into your mouth, all you feel is hand rubbing your thigh, even with your eyes closed in bliss, all you can see is him. You taste him on your tongue as you lick into his mouth. It’s all so much, so much pleasure all at once, but it’s still not enough.

You let out a high pitched moan when his cock rubs against your clit just right. The only thing between the two of you are your panties and his boxers.

Tangerine finally releases your hands from his and takes his other one off of you, then raises himself up. This allows you to catch your breath for a split second before your being flipped over onto your stomach. Your face suddenly in the sheets when you feel hands on your hips, which raises them up. You attempt to lift your upper body up, but a firm hand on your back pushes you back down.

“Stay there.” Tangerine says, his tone making your stomach flutter and eyes close.

Tangerine hums to himself at your position, ass up and face down. Because of the short length of your nightgown, it has risen up over your ass, allowing Tangerine a very nice view of your floral panties.

You sigh into your pillow when you feel hands on your bum, kneading gently. Then you hear a loud smack and sting on your ass, the feeling making you gasp and rise up on your arms. But your shoved back down just as quickly as you got up, then Tangerine lays two more smacks, making you whine.

“I thought I told you to stay there.”

“M’sorry.” You say, your words muffled into your pillow.

Tangerine hums and thinks for a moment, knowing that this is most likely the first type of sexual experience you’ve had that involved having to control yourself and listen to your partner. He decides he’ll let your disobedience slide, then you and him will have a discussion later about the type of sex you enjoy and what you both want.

The lack of words from Tangerine makes your heart crack, maybe he didn’t hear you?

“I said I’m sorry.” You say once more, not sure exactly what you’re hoping for.

“I know, I heard you. Thank you for apologizing, darling.” He says, then lays a gentle kiss on the small of your back. You squirm under his lips, happy to be on his good side.

“You’re welco-'' You're cut off by your own gasp when you feel a hand cupping your core and single digit rubbing your clit. You begin panting into the pillow and moving your hips to Tangerine’s hand.

“That feel nice?” Tangerine asks, holding back a groan at how desperate you are.

“Uh-huh.” Is all you can say with closed eyes.

You try with all of your effort to stay in your position, you fist your hands in the sheets, trying to find some balance between the pleasure and trying not to get too caught up in it. You’re fearful at what Tangerine will do, but at the same excited about it. But it all becomes too much when he begins to rub you more roughly and at the same time, spanks you again so hard that you yelp into the sheets.

“Alright, that’s quite enough.” Tangerine is quick with his movements as he places a hand on your upper back, right under your neck, and shoves your head back down roughly. He then takes both of your hands and pins them behind your back, and continues to caress your cunt.

“S-sorry!” You gasp wetly, eyes rolling to the back of your head when he begins to rub you quickly, his entire palm practically shaking beneath your cunt. Even with your underwear on, you both can hear just how wet you are. The sound of your wetness and your moans bouncing off of the walls of your room.

Tangerine feels you stop your humping against his palm and sees your body shaking, you’re close. For just a second, he stops rubbing your clothed covered cunt, making you cry out and wiggle your ass, and pulls your underwear to the side. You feel the cool air hit you and are left curious as to what Tangerine is going to do.

You cry out when you feel his fingers against you, teasing your hole as he circles a single finger around it.

“You want my fingers, dove?” Tangerine asks, pressing his finger against your hole. You nod your head against your pillow as much as you can, the angle your neck is at making it difficult.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. Can barely put just one of m’fingers in there, unless I shove it in.”

“Please, please, just want one.” You beg into the sheets, your words barely audible.

“What’s that? You don’t want it?” Tangerine smirks and goes back to circling two fingers around your clit. You shriek and shake your head, wiggling your ass in a futile attempt to find any sort of touch.

“No, no, no, I do want it! Pleas-” Your cries are cut off when you feel a large finger slowly enter you, that’s all it takes for you to shake and crumble beneath Tangerine. You groan and arch your back, taking more of Tangerine’s finger. You feel yourself toeing the line of pain and pleasure, his finger feels so fucking good but he really does have to force it in.

“Oh, you’re coming already? But I’ve barely touched you.” Tangerine coos at how easy it was to get your body trembling.

Poor girl, he thinks. You really haven’t been touched in a long while.

He slowly retracts his finger all the way out, before slowly pushing it all the way in, your tightness making his movements slow. You drool into the pillows as your mouth hangs open with no sound coming out. Your orgasm takes everything within you away.

You sob when Tangerine doesn’t stop his movements, not letting you take a single moment to settle down and collect yourself. You try to remove your hands from his grip, then you feel a rain of smacks on your ass and his hand returns to your sopping cunt.

“Please! Ah!” You beg loudly, though you’re not sure what for. For Tangerine to stop? For him to keep going?

Tears soon fall down your cheeks, joining the drool on your pillow. The mess is spread onto your cheek as you scream and shake. You feel your juice slowly drip down your thighs, but you pay no mind to it as you’re quickly brought closer and closer to your second orgasm. You feel the sweat on your neck and on your forehead. You’re a mess, but Tangerine finds you-so far gone in the pleasure- so beautiful.

You groan and tremble again when Tangerine just slightly curls his fingers, hitting that spot inside of you that makes your eyes roll back. But the pleasure soon becomes too much when you feel his thumb circling your ass and you lose the very little control you have. Your hands helplessly trying to grab onto anything you can reach to ground you from the pleasure. Fortunately, Tangerine readjusts his grip on your wrists and lets you hold his hand as you turn your face in the pillow and sob into it, your shoulders shuddering as your juices coat his finger and leak out of your hole.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.”

You think you black out for a moment at his words. The praise sinking deep into your bones and going straight to your core, making you twitch.

“Thank you, thank you-” Is all you can say as you ride out your high, your mind melting away with pleasure.

Tangerine stops his movements, but doesn’t remove his finger. He enjoys the way your small hole clenches onto his finger, almost like you're begging him not to remove it. When he sees that your breath has finally calmed down into hiccups, he slowly takes out his finger, making you whine and arch your back.

He finally lets go of your hands, gently taking both of them and placing them beside you so as to not hurt your arms.

“You’re welcome, my love.” He whispers before leaving a gentle kiss to your wet cheeks, tasting your salty tears. Tangerine puts his hands back on your hips, his touch gentle, and lowers them back on the bed. He then takes off your underwear, tossing them in your hamper where he notices that it’s filled up. He makes a mental note to do your laundry sometime today, maybe after work he thinks. For now, his focus is on putting you back together with a nice bath and a warm breakfast.

Tangerine goes back to you and pulls down your nightgown, covering your bum then patting it softly as he sits next to your tired body.

“Gotta take a bath now, love.” He whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“M’tired.” You yawn and knuckle at your eyes. Just the idea of having to sit up and walk to the bathroom is exhausting, but the sticky mess between your thighs and the wetness on your cheek says otherwise.

“Okay.” Is the only response you get before you feel Tangerine get up and walk away. The sudden disappearance makes your eyes open. You sit up despite your arms and back aching and begging for you to lay back down. You don’t know what to do.

Did he just leave? Where did he go? Is he coming back?

Your thoughts are interrupted when you hear the faucet of your bath being turned on and the sound of running water.

You lay back down and close your eyes, assuming Tangerine was the one who was taking a shower. Just as you feel yourself about to slip into your slumber, the water finally shuts off and you feel an arm sliding itself under your back and another arm going under your knees.

You make a noise of discomfort, you just want to lay back down.

“I know, I know. But you’ll feel so much better after a bath.” Tangerine says softly, his voice is enough to send you back to slumber.

You open your eyes and see that you’re in the bathroom, and the tub is filled with bubbles. Tangerine bends down with you in his arms to put you down and send you back on your feet, you shiver and wrap your arms around yourself when your feet hit the cold floor. Tangerine sees this and mentally scolds himself for not placing you on one of the bathmats.

“Wasn’t sure which scent you wanted to use since you haven’t used any of those.” He points to a basket filled with many types of bath bombs, all different sizes and colors and fun shapes. Your eyebrows furrow, since when did you have that?

Tangerine smiles at your tilted head and confused face, “they’re in this cupboard,” then he points to one of the cupboards you hadn’t even opened yet.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.”

“I’ll lay out some clothes while you’re in here. And if you want, I would like you to come down and we can eat together.”

“I would like that, Tangerine.”

“Wonderful, I’ll see you soon, love.” Tangerine says, but not without a gentle hand cradling your cheek and a sweet kiss on your lips that leaves you stunned. He quietly leaves the bathroom and shuts the door.

You get that feeling in your stomach when you miss someone as soon as they’re gone, but you remind yourself that you’ll see him again in about thirty minutes, with some good food. You shyly smile at the thought of having breakfast together. Hopefully he’s in one of those moods where he sits you on his lap. You could do it yourself, but knowing he’s the one who wants you that close to him makes you blush.

Before getting into the bath, you decide to explore the bathroom a little more and open the drawers you hadn’t even touched. Despite Tangerine telling you on multiple occasions that “this is your new home” and “you can do as you please here”, the house is still very much new to you. It feels wrong to open every single cabinet and go look through it or go to any room and lounge or take all the food you want from the kitchen. You feel like you have to ask for permission for everything and anything. And up until very recently, your walls are starting to crack.

You open one of the drawers and gasp. Sitting in it are many more bath bombs that immediately fill your nose. Next, you open a cabinet and in it are different types of body washes from brands you’d always wanted. You marvel at all the different pretty bottles and colors and scents.

This continues on with you opening the remainder of the drawers and cabinets, which are all filled with the most delicious smelling lotions, shampoos, conditioners, body scrubs, body oils, and more. By the time you’re done, a good fifteen minutes have passed by and you struggle to pick which product you want to use. In the end, you choose a body wash, lotion, and perfume from the brand Philosophy called fresh cream, the smell reminding you of freshly baked cookies and cakes.

As you get into the bath, you can’t help but feel just a little bit giddy and excited at the thought of Tangerine pulling you close and liking the way you smell. Maybe he’ll kiss my neck and bite me again, you think as you sink into the bubbles and perfectly warmed water.

Your mind starts to wander when your body begins to relax in the water.

Whatever you did with Tangerine was great. Really, really great, you think.

The stuff he did and said to you, you were very surprised you had such a responsive and good reaction to them. No one’s ever treated you that way in bed.

Tangerine was so… assertive and demanding and rough, especially. You liked the way he held and restrained your arms from touching him, it made you have no choice but to take what he was giving you. You liked that you couldn’t pull him closer or push him away, he was making you take the pleasure he was providing you.

And the way he talked to you! The butterflies appear in your stomach at the thought.

The way he gave you orders, and got angry when you didn’t follow through them. It wasn’t on purpose, he was just making you feel so good you couldn’t stay still. But then he really got rough again and restrained you again.

You squeeze your thighs together at the thought of his rough hand on your back and pushing your face in the sheets with a great force.

But it was after all of that is what made you want to run up to him and kiss him again, he was so sweet and gentle, from what you remember. Just like when you first met him. It was all pet names and soft touches and some kisses here and there. Thinking about this reminds you that he’s waiting downstairs for you. You quickly finish washing yourself and get out of the tub.

Following this is your skin care and makeup, which you apply just a little bit of lipstick, spreading it with your fingers to give it more of a natural look. Then finish your lips off with some cherry scented lip gloss. Next, you apply some mascara and blush, and you’re done for now. It’s the same story as the drawers, the amount of makeup is a little much, but you still love it. It’s just going to take some getting used to, having so much in such a small amount of time. You want to take your time exploring and not just dive headfirst into it all.

And lastly, before you get dressed, you apply the sweet lotion on your legs and arms.

When you’re done in the bathroom, you stand in front of your mirror in the outfit Tangerine had laid out for you. A white flowy sundress with a tiny red floral print, paired with a small red cardigan and socks. Although you love the entirety of the outfit, you decide not to wear the cardigan as you want Tangerine to smell as much of the lotion on you as possible.

The final touch to your look is the perfume with the same scent as the lotion and bodywash. And with one last squeeze of your hair with a towel, you’re off downstairs and trying not to appear too eager.

Perfect timing, Tangerine thinks as he’s setting down the last plate of chocolate croissants on the table when he hears your footsteps coming down the stairs. His heart soars when he sees you, freshly showered with wet hair and the cute little dress he layed out for you.

You’re very clearly nervous as you sit down, so much that the amount of your favorite foods right in front of you don’t register in your mind. When you see Tangerine, back in his goddamn suit, you’re reminded of the morning’s events, making you feel self-conscious once again.

Did Tangerine like the dress on you?

Has he noticed your light makeup?

Does he like the way you look?

Is the smell of fresh cream too much?

Tangerine makes his way towards you, frowning at your refusal to look at him and your worried eyes.

You jump when you see the chair next to you move from the corner of your eye, and you're slightly disappointed when Tangerine doesn’t immediately pull you into his lap and wrap his arms around you.

“Fancy some croissants, love?”

You nod your head and look at the table, mouth quickly watering at all the food.

It’s silent for a while after Tangerine fills up your plate and glass with apple juice. You wonder why he’s being so distant, usually he’s feeding you and kissing all over your face. He feels so… far away, despite being right next to you. Your eyes begin to water at the thought of him regretting what he did. You very much enjoyed it and thought he did as well, but you figure now you’re wrong. Then you realize he didn’t even cum. You didn’t do anything for him.

You struggle to finish up your food with a lump in your throat, as well as trying not to breathe too much through your nose because then Tangerine will know you’re close to crying. But you could only pretend for so long.

Tangerine’s head quickly turns to you when he hears the first sniffle, then he puts down his fork when he sees you trembling.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong? C’mere.” Tangerine says softly, trying to remain calm at your sudden burst of tears. He takes your hands and gently pulls you towards him off of your chair, some of his nerves going away when you seat yourself on his lap and lay your head on his shoulder.

“I’m s-sorry.” You hiccup. You feel your breath quicken and that feeling in your chest where you know you’re going to start taking uncontrollable deep breaths.

“For what? I don’t underst- here, drink some water.” Tangerine places a glass in front of you and you immediately go for it, closing your eyes and letting the cold water soothe you. Your lips away from the cup and sigh, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. It helps when you feel a hand slowly rubbing circles on your back.

Feeling exhausted again, you lay your head back on Tangerine’s shoulder.

“How are your arms? Do they hurt?” Tangerine asks while massaging your biceps, that’s when he notices how nice you smell. He noses your damp hair and kisses your head.

“No, they’re okay, thank you.” You say quietly and tilt your head, his nose in your hair tickling you.

“Can I see you, please?”

It takes a while for you to muster up the courage to just sit up, your head feeling heavy. Tangerine is quick to hold your cheeks and wipe away your tears, he shakes his head at your sad eyes. Seeing you so upset makes him feel upset too.

“Love,” He pauses, reminding himself to choose his next words very carefully, “I’m a little concerned right now, what’s wrong?” He begins to panic when sees your lip trembling and your head turn away.

“Is it something about this morning?”

You nod your head.

“How do you feel? You didn’t like it?”

“No, I liked it. I just-”

Tangerine’s head perks up, trying not to show how pleased he is with your answer.

“Just what? You can tell me, I won’t be mad, I promise.” Tangerine brushes away the strands of hair that are in your face, he doesn't want any sort of barrier between the two of you. That way there can be no hiding from you and you can clearly see his own face.

You take a deep breath.

“I didn’t make you… you didn’t-” You struggle to say the word, it’s humiliating to admit.

“Oh, that’s alright. Wasn’t really focused on myself to be honest. I just wanted to make you feel nice is all.”

You’re once again stunned at his words. He wasn’t focused on himself and his own pleasure? But instead on you? The thought and gesture makes you look down at your hands, your eyes looking anywhere besides the man right in front of you. You’re afraid you’ll burst if you look at Tangerine any longer.

“Oh, okay. Thank you.” You smile softly as you trace the small flowers on your dress. Tangerine smiles at your bashfulness, it’s so easy to get you so flustered and squirmy. It’s a sight he loves to see.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, love. Should be thanking you, I reckon. I loved seeing you like that.”

“Tangerine, stop it.” You whine and hide your face in his neck, a smile spread wide on your face as you wrap your arms around his neck. Tangerine laughs and pinches your sides, making you yelp.

“C’mon, let me see your face.”

You whine quietly into his neck before slowly removing yourself from your hiding spot, your cheeks on fire and a small pout on your lips.

“Oh, there she is. So pretty today, aren’t you?” Tangerine whispers and strokes your cheek, making them heat up.

“May I kiss you?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper breathlessly and his lips are on yours in an instant, making you moan.

This kiss is different from this morning. It’s slow and deep and all open mouthed. It makes you dizzy, especially when he’s got one arm wrapped tightly around your waist and his other hand has a firm hold on your cheek. He’s not letting you go anytime soon and you’re okay with that. You just want him to keep petting your tongue with his and gently nipping at your bottom lip.

But then he’s pulling away with an unhappy sigh.

“I really hate to go, but I’ve got to get to work now.” As much as he doesn’t want to go, he needs to. He’s already very late thanks to the morning’s activities and breakfast. He knows he’s going to get an earful when he meets with Lemon. But he almost backtracks on his words when he sees your shoulders fall and feels your hands remove themselves from around his neck . The realization that he is leaving makes both of your hearts hurt.

“Oh, okay.” You repeat your words from earlier, but with disappointment. You also look down at your hands again, you don’t want Tangerine to see you like this, so obviously upset. He sighs at you beginning to pull away from him.

“I don’t want to leave you, please believe me.” He whispers in your ear, making you shiver and eventually curl up to him. Tangerine relaxes and starts to lightly scratch your scalp.

“I’ll make it up to you tonight, how’s that sound?”

“That sounds good.” You say as you play with his necklace.

“Wonderful. Let’s start with dinner, what would you like?”

You're quick with your answer. It was one of the first meals he made you during your first week in the house. You remember being angry and annoyed with how delicious it was, and as much as you wanted to throw a fit and not eat it- just to make Tangerine angry- you couldn’t resist it.

“I really liked that one soup you made with the- I forgot what you called it- noky?”

“Oh, gnocchi?” Tangerine smiles.

“Yes, that one. That was really good, I really liked it. You should make it again, please.” You ramble, attempting to forget the awful way you pronounced the dish. But you only dig yourself further into embarrassment, making you sigh and cringe at yourself.

“Thank you, that’s very nice,” Tangerine kisses your cheek and continues, “I’ll stop by the store and pick up some of the ingredients. Anything else?”

You think for a moment.

“I think dessert would be good too.”

“Alright, what will it be?”

“Mochi, th-the ones with the strawberry inside of it.”

“You’ve got it.”

The two of you continue with your conversation, it mostly being Tangerine encouraging you to make the decisions. Such as what the two of you will be doing after dinner, to which you shyly shrugged your shoulders. Anything sounded good, just as long as you were with Tangerine.

After some more sitting in his lap and kisses to your face, Tangerine places you in your empty seat and starts to clean up. But not before asking you to finish your apple juice and little bowl of fruit.

He can’t help but smile at you from across the kitchen when you’re happily sitting in your seat, swinging your legs, and popping grapes into your mouth. He just wants to throw you on the bed and have his way with you again, flipping your dress up and having his own taste of you until you’re begging him to stop.

Next time, he thinks.

#tangerine #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine x reader #tangerine imagine #tangerine blurb #bullet train #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson #aaron taylor johnson x reader #aaron taylor johnson x fem!reader

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angelicyoongie · 2 years

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lovesick (VIII)

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

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

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

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

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

You’re not at home.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were drugged. Kidnapped.

Your worst nightmare has come true.

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

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

“Y/n!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What the fuck? How is that safe?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you hack my phone?”

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

The park.

The man and the dog.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That’s one way to put it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Like you’re a little pet that needs consoling.

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

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

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

Something creaks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jimin.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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autisticlancemcclain · 7 months

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Their room reeks so strongly of peppermint that it makes Keith’s eyes sting. He blinks it away, slipping into the room as quickly as he can, minimizing the amount of light bleeding into the hallway. The lump of covers on their bed trembles slightly, and Keith’s heart breaks at the sight of it. He sets a glass of ice water on the bedside table, slipping out of his clothes in favour of a softer t-shirt and pyjama pants. He picks the cup back up and turns to the blanket lump, gently peeling the covers off his husband’s face. It’s wet, covered in tears, and his eyes are squeezed shut, fingers pressed deeply against them in an attempt to ease the pressure.

“Sit up,” he requests gently. Lance doesn’t move immediately, and Keith doesn’t push, gently stroking his forehead and untangling his hair. Lance leans in to the touch, relishing the cold of his fingers.

“It hurts,” he croaks, after several minutes. Finally he takes his hand away from his face, cracking open his bleary brown eyes.

Keith sighs. “I know, baby. But the water will help.”

“Okay.”

Keith squeezes his shoulder, then quickly crawls onto the mattress behind him, leaning against the headboard and helping Lance pull himself up so he’s leaning upright onto Keith’s chest. The change in altitude, however minuscule, make his breath hitch, and seconds later Keith feels something wet drip onto his arms, hears it drop steadily onto the duvet.

He winces. This one is…bad. He’s reminded, painfully, of the first time he ever witnessed Lance have an episode, hunched over a toilet bowl and shaking so bad Keith had been convinced he was seizing. The then-Blue Paladin had begged him, in between gags and heaves, not to tell anyone. Keith, who had only really known him for six months, six months of near-constant arguing broken up only by rare moments of true teamwork, who had barely considered them friends, had already been halfway out the door, Coran’s name on his tongue.

Keith had been scared shitless. He didn’t know what was wrong, but he knew enough to know that it was serious, that Lance was in real danger. His mind flashed to poisoning from a backstabbing ally, alien sickness a human immune system couldn’t fight off. A million different worst-case scenarios had rushed through his head, making Keith want to throw up himself.

But the terror in Lance’s eyes had scared him a thousand times more than whatever was wrong with him. So he had swallowed his fear, then, and kept his mouth shut, placing a tentative hand on Lance’s back as he vomited and carefully watched the door.

He doesn’t have to watch the door, anymore. There’s no more hiding.

But the fear has never left him.

“The meds aren’t doing anything,” Lance rasps. He’s drained the entire glass of water in seconds, body desperate for something to replenish all the sweat and tears and shaking effort of fighting off something that isn’t there.

“How long?”

“Third time.”

Keith tightens his arms around Lance’s waist, eyes closing in resigned disappointment. Third time — the meds have been ineffective for three consecutive attacks. It doesn’t work.

Fuck. They’d been hopeful about this one.

“We’ll talk to Coran.”

It had taken a year of Keith desperately trying to keep Lance’s secret — from the ‘real grown-ups’, as Lance called them — before they’d been caught. Usually Lance’s migraines were pretty predictable, warning signs obvious enough in advance that they could either find something to prevent it or get Lance somewhere he wouldn’t be disturbed.

But once they couldn’t manage it.

Neither of them could have predicted the bright, flashing lights of the planet the team was visiting. Nor did they know how badly that was going to hit Lance. One second he was fine, upright, laughing with Hunk, and then next the lights were flashing in and out like an ambulance and Lance’s eyes were rolling back into his head. He had come back as fast as he’d passed out, before he even hit the ground, but there was no mistaking the way he looked like someone had just taken a mallet to his skull, the way his palms were pressed, digging, into his eyes, the way he was obviously and clearly in pain.

Migraine has never been a large enough word.

Lance groans quietly. “I don’t — not right now.” He pushes himself forward slightly and then carefully spins around, so he’s no longer leaning against Keith but leaning into him, head buried into his neck. Keith moves his arms until he’s adjusted, then wraps them back around his waist, resting his head on top of Lance’s and just holding him, covering him, letting him know he’s there. “You know what he’s going to make me do.”

The team had wanted to push Lance into a pod immediately. Keith had been yelled at by five seperate people at the same time when he’d stood in between them and Lance, protective hand on his arm, and refused to move.

That’s when he thinks things clicked for the two of them, he thinks. Not when he found out for the first time, not when he promised to keep quiet, not when Lance stood by him and Black’s choice, not in the countless other times they’d fought and won together. But the time Keith had stood between him and their friends, the people who wanted them to be safe, and said without saying the words I am on your side. I will be on your side, even if I don’t agree, even if it’s the wrong one.

“It’ll help,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to Lance’s temple. “I know it won’t make it go away, but you won’t feel it while it works it’s way. And who knows? Maybe this time it will fix something.”

“I doubt it.”

It hadn’t then, either. Lance had eventually agreed, battered, to a pod (“I can’t do it, Keith, I can’t, I’ll get stuck in there and suffocate and won’t even be awake to try and save myself —” “I’ll keep watch.” “What?” “The entire time. As long as it takes. I’ll stay awake and make sure you come out. I swear it, Lance.”), staying in cryosleep as the migraine worked it’s way through his body and the rest of them puzzled over his brain scans. They had even contacted the Olkari, the leading scientists in medicine besides the Alteans themselves, but no one in space is familiar enough with the human brain to find any miracles. And besides, from all angles, everything looked normal. Healthy, even, besides the pain. But obviously there was something wrong.

“That’s okay. We’ll just…sit here for a bit.” He knows that he should try to get Lance into a pod sooner rather than later. He can’t really sleep when he’s like this, so he’s just suffering, head pounding and nausea twisting his stomach, pain wrapped around his nerves. At least when he’s in the pod he’s in stasis. His migraines aren’t usually this bad — he can usually handle low lighting, can usually swallow the pain enough to smile and work and interact with the team; hell, usually the painkillers work — but when they are this bad, there are no other options. When they’re this bad, nothing does anything; not the water or an ice pack or the dark room or rest or peppermint or anything. (The peppermint always comes out, though, because Lance says it smells like healing. It smells like the times it /does/ work, smells like when he puts it on and the pain goes away. Keith will take burning eyes for that.)

For a while, the team put all their downtime into trying to figure out what they could do to fix things. Lance went through brain scans when he wasn’t hurting, when he was, when he was only hurting a little. He had so much blood drawn that he became anaemic again. Different ideas were tossed around and disproven three days later. He cycled through meds. The only thing that everyone could agree on, something that Lance already knew, was that the migraines started after the Sendak incident. Brain damage, of some kind. Once, carefully and kindly, Coran suggested that the pain might be psychosomatic. Keith and Shiro refused to talk to him for days, both remembering years of doctor’s visits that almost always ended with Well, Mr. Shirogane, have you considered that your problems may be more mental than physical?

It had been Lance’s scolding as much as Coran’s guilty face that had to two of them fixing things. Psychosomatic or not, Lance had reasoned, there’s something wrong, and what it is doesn’t really matter so long as it can be treated.

But it couldn’t. Be treated, that is. So long as it appears that Lance’s brain is just…attacking itself, sending off rapid fire pain signals for no reason, he just has to live with the constant pain of it, and the dread of the pod, the one fear Lance has never been able to fight off.

“I’ll watch,” Keith murmurs, lips pressed to Lance’s hair. He tightens his hold as Lance shudders.

He always has. It’s been eight years, in space, and Lance has been forced to enter a pod more times than he can count, for hours on end. But Keith has always stood there. He has always stood guard, watching the pod until he is bleary eyed, because he made a promise and he intends to keep it.

“Okay.” Lance exhales, long and slow. “As long as you’re with me, okay.”

“Always.”

#chronic migraines baby ❤️ hell on earth #vld #voltron #keith #keith kogane #lance #lance mcclain #klance #established klance #hurt lance #langst #brown eyed lance #soft keith #worried keith #my writing #longpost #fic

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blushweddinggowns · 1 year

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They keep their relationship secret at the start, at Steve's request.

It's not that Steve was ashamed of Eddie or anything, but he knew what his friends were like. Nancy and Robin would have an absolute field day, especially with all of the whining and pining Steve had been giving them for months. The kids would immediately be all up in their business and he would probably get at least four different shovel talks when it did come out in the open. But worst of all they would all be biting at the bit to tell Eddie every embarrassing little thing they knew about him.

Steve could accept that, he could, he would, but could anyone blame him for wanting his boyfriend to not be aware of what a loser he could be? Eddie was still on the high of having Steve save his life and watching him not get his ass handed to him for once, and all Steve wanted was to keep that image alive during the early stages of their relationship. His image could be shattered after Eddie was madly in love with him.

Plus, Steve knew that he was Eddie's first real relationship and he wanted to give him the full King Steve wooing treatment. And that was a lot easier without being heckled by six children. And in Steve's humble opionion, he was doing a damn good job of it.

Calling every night just to ask how his day went? Check. Impromptu hugs from behind that involved picking Eddie up and twirling him around? Check. Special little presents throughout the week that never failed to make Eddie wear the prettiest blush Steve had ever seen? Double check.

He was even up for helping Eddie out with his drug deals on particularly busy weekends, always waving away Eddie's worried protests. No police officer in Hawkins would ever believe that drugs were being run through the Harrington household, even if the adult Harringtons themselves hadn't stepped foot in Hawkins for a year. Besides, he always managed to convince any of his lady clients to buy at embarrassingly high prices and was more than willing to be a charlatan for Eddie's financial sake.

So imagine his surprise when he wakes up to three furious kids pounding on his door the morning after scamming Tammy Thompson out of $30 for a gram of weed. He left Eddie behind in bed, thankful that he slept like the dead, kissing his hair before getting the door.

Max, Dustin, and Lucas stomped right past him the second he opened it, wasting no time before they started yelling over each other.

"Where is she?" Max gritted out, whipping her head around the living room, "And don't even try to lie, we saw her car here last night. And the weekend before!"

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose, completely confused but at least aware it was way to early for him to be dealing with this shit, "What the hell are you talking about?"

"We know you're cheating on Eddie, just admit it!" Dustin crossed his arms over his chest, "And after everything he's been through?"

Lucas was shaking his head, and giving Steve the most disappointed look he'd ever seen, it was cutting, "And with Tammy? I really thought you'd changed man. You have five minutes to explain yourself before we tell Mike, and he'll just kill you."

Steve just stared at the trio, his mind desperately trying to catch up to figure out how they knew about Eddie and why they thought Steve was stupid enough to throw it all away for a blonde kermit. Eddie choose that moment to sleepily wander down the stairs, eyes widening at the sight of three teenagers berating his boyfriend in defense of his honor.

It took a half hour for Eddie to convince them it was all a misunderstanding and even less time for Steve to find out that everyone knew about them from basically day one.

"When you suddenly stopped waxing poetry about Eddie's hair this and Eddie's eyes that, we just knew it had happened," Max shrugged.

"And I've seen you guys make out at the drive in like, three times now," Lucas added, "You're really not subtle."

"Not that we aren't happy for you!" Dustin smiled, immediately appeased by Eddie's explanation, "Robin just told us to give you space until you came clean, but everyone thinks it's great."

"Robin knows?!"

They all nodded, all way too pleased with themselves, "Who do you think told us?"

Steve groaned, she was never going to let him live this down when she found out about this stupid Tammy thing, let alone the fact that she had him clocked from the get-go.

Dustin turned to Eddie, still all smiles, "So now that you know we know, we have so much to tell you."

Steve watched, head in his hands as his favorite children started to regale his favorite person with all of his most embarrassing moments, debating on if he should be thankful that they managed to even wait as long as they had to spill the beans, or if he should examine just how poorly he had managed to hide his feelings.

Either way that was the last time Steve tried to hide anything from his kids.

#steddie #drabble #steddie ficlet #look at me writing this instead of steddie wip i havent looked at for two weeks #whoops #eddie munson #steve harrington

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adventuringblind · 6 months

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Drive With You Forever

Chapter sixteen: Boo!

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: Reader scares Carlos, Max is overprotective, an unexpected visitor appears

Warnings: alcohol consumption, survivors guilt, arguing

Notes: After much deliberation, I've decided to let my affinity for even numbers win.

Previous <-

Masterlist

The sun is barely peaking over the edges of the sky as her and Lando walk hand in hand around the hungararing. Charles needed to be at the paddock early for his media duties. The two had decided to go with since they were up and let Max and Oscar sleep until the last minute.

The walk is peaceful. The shared airpods are playing soft music that Lando picked. Occasionally, he spins her around, or they stop to dance horribly.

It's so early that even the pitlane is empty. The occasional sound of tools can be heard, but no souls can be seen.

The music and Lando are so distracting that she doesn't notice anyone sneaking behind her. Hands grab her shoulder, which pulls a terrified gasp out of her. Instincts take over as she throws whoever it is behind her into the nearest wall. It's not hard, just enough to subdue. And scare- she supposes.

She holds whoever it was as her breath starts to even out. She can hear Lando and Charles laughing incredibly hard. Which is weird, because then who is she-?

"Carlos?!"

She releases her hold on him, and the spainard sinks to the ground. His expressions go through the five stages of grief.

"I told you not to scare her mate!" Charles is kneeling over in laughter.

She rushes to help him up. And to her shock, he lets her. She would have expected him to run in fear. Bolt to the nearest asylum and tell them to come get her.

"So, you're some kind of superhero? Or am I imagining things? Or are you really that strong?" Carlos asks questions faster than she could process. She's startled, overwhelmed, and frankly confused.

Charles comes to her rescue with his arms around her waist. "She's our superhero. If you tell anyone, you're dead."

"She looks like she feels bad for just shoving me against the wall."

"I never said it would be her doing the killing."

~~~~~

Charles flinches as Max slams the door behind him. He hates when any of them is angry. Max, however, has to be the worst.

Not because of anything he's doing wrong. The Dutch simply struggles to communicate when his emotions are flaring higher than normal. Charles hates seeing him so upset when all he wants is to keep them safe and happy.

He is currently curled up on the bed next to Lando. Oscar is sitting on one of the plush lounge chairs, and the female is curled up on a bar stool, not looking at anyone. She looked like she might cry. When Charles called Max to explain what had happened, he was not happy and started ranting over the speaker. Now she is sat there, blaming herself for messing things up.

"Carlos is coming over tonight, so we can explain this to him, yes?" Max asks the room. They all nod to confirm it. "I don't understand how this happened. We have no idea how Carlos is going to respond."

"He seemed fine when we left-"

"-But that doesn't guarantee he won't tell anybody." Max cut off Lando, and the Brit shrinks into Charles with a look of defeat.

Max then turns his attention to the female. The emotionally unstable girl who hadn't even been living in a proper home for that long. Who had immediately concluded she had ruined their lives once again (not that she ever did, this was her conclusion that Charles can't see how she came to).

"I would've expected you to at least have seen something by now. I thought your visions were to prevent these incidents, but they always seem to happen regardless." Max's volume rises as he speaks. His hand movements get more aggressive, and he can see the female getting more glassy eyed by the second. "It's so hard to keep you safe when you let things like this happen!"

Oh, Charles is going to kill him. But he'll have to do it later because before anyone can stop her, she is running out of the room. Only stopping to grab her shoes.

"Max Emilian Verstappen, I have half a mind to drag by the neck to Sebastian to explain this one to him." Seethes the Monegasque.

It's not often that they argue. Having more of them in a relationship means more arguments, but it also means more mediators. People who are neutral to help them resolve the issue.

Max already looks like he knows he messed up. "I didn't... I- I didn't mean it like that." He stutters out. Tears threaten to fall from his eyes.

Charles sighs in frustration. "Maybe we know that, but she takes things litterally." He goes through possible options. "I think we should give it an hour before we try to find her. Let her have some space first."

"Not sure how we're going to find her." Oscar points to where her phone lay. "Can't see her location if her phone isn't with her."

~~~~~

She's not sure where she's going. Just walking to clear her head. Figure things out. Understand why she can't just do things right.

Maybe Max is right. Maybe this really is all her fault. She let this all happen. She could've stopped it if she had more control over these stupid abilities.

She knows her mind is going to a dark place. It's a place she hadn't been for so long. But the voices that aren't hers are pulling her under water. She can't breathe knowing she messed up yet again. How many failures are needed to prove she's not meant to continue this life.

Her father had said the same thing Max had. Over and over, every day, the reason why he took everything from her. Because she had let her mother die and still doesn't have the strength to bring her back.

Why should she live? Her mother hadn't deserved her fate. Neither had any of her bloodline who came before her. Why should she be allowed to live freely when none of them had?

She must have blacked out while walking. Somehow, finding herself tucked away in a back alley, a bottle of alcohol in hand.

She didn't even know she had money. Furthermore, she doesn't even like alcohol normally. She supposes this isn't a normal occasion and instead takes a swig from the bottle. The burn in her throat distracts the thoughts in her brain.

She hears her name being called, but she's too apathetic to care. Yet as they continue to grow closer, she lets out a groan and shifts her weight upwards and against the wall. Her legs feel like they might give out from the weight. She falls, expecting to hit the concrete face first. Instead, she lands against another person.

"I've got you." Comes a familiar Australian accent. Oscar lowers her back onto the ground and assesses her for any injuries. "You forgot to take your phone with you. We've been searching for you for hours."

"Well, I guess Max can lecture me about it then. I'll add it to the compiling list of things I've done wrong."

Oscar isn't normally the most assertive person. He can be when he needs to, but he can also easily follow the flow of other people. This is one of those times where he needs to be. "You didn't do anything wrong. You were startled. You went defensive. Max knows what he said was wrong, and he didn't intend for it to come out that way." Her body is pulled into his. She hadn't realized how it had gotten late and that she is cold now. His body heat is comforting. "Come back with me and let Max apologize. Everyone is worried that you'd been taken again, and Carlos is at the room as well."

She can hear the waiver of anxiety in his voice. He hates not knowing where she is. It leaves too many possibilities for her to get hurt, or worse, taken away from him again.

Oscar helps her walk back to the hotel. The bottle of alcohol left behind in the alley for someone else to take advantage of. It's a long, wobbly walk where she feels anxiety building with every step. Even when they get to the door, she has half a mind to turn and run. Though she doubts she'd get very far.

Lando is the one to open the door. He looks as if he'd been crying. If he was, he didn't say anything.

He helps Oscar get her to the larger then neccecary bathroom. Then she beelines straight for the empty bath. Her safe place.

"Max wants to apologize. Can I let him in?"

"Yeah, but can you stay, please?" She's not sure she can express things properly right now and may need Oscar's calm to help the two very emotional people through.

"Wouldn't think of leaving."

He opens the door and summons Max over. It's an awkward few moments as the two get comfortable. She fiddles with her hands while they do so.

Max sighs. His eyes are red and tired. His face settled in his constantly moving hands. "I'm so sorry for what I said. I wasn't thinking properly and I was scared. Which is not an excuse I know-"

"I forgive you. It's not like I handled it well, either."

"I just want you to be safe. You've been through so much already that I just want to see you not worry yourself sick." They look at each other now. Really take in the hurt and worry that paint the feature of the other.

Oscar decides to give them a few moments alone before joining the others. Lando had once compared their post argument affection to remind them they are okay to aftercare. She deems them very different. In this case, both her and Max were high on emotions, so they did and said things that weren't right. But they'd all come to an agreement that when there are apologies made and forgiveness granted that they don't hold onto it. At the end of the day, they are human, and humans do stupid things. This is a promise that they are going to be fine.

~~~~~

Oscar isn't sure what he's expecting to happen when the two step out of the room, but it certainly wasn't Carlos being star struck.

"I have so many questions."

"You always have questions."

"I think he always has opinions, actually."

Oscar rolls his eyes. Carlos could ask all he wanted, but he probably would get the answers he's looking for. There is some part of him that knows Carlos commands and controls his environment. Yet the other side of him sees what Charles sees: a funny and playful Spaniard. Plus, the Aussie is new to all of this, and if anything, he can't help but feel mildly anxious.

"Have you always had your powers?" Carlos looks at the female with curiosity in his eyes.

"Yes, I was born with them." His eyes flicker to Max as the Dutch places his hand on her lower back. She seems to flinch at the question itself. As if having to recall the answer also brought with it memories.

Carlos keeps asking more specific questions, prying further into the females past. She does her best to answer as many as possible, but she's gradually steeping into a more anxious state.

"I think that's enough for tonight." Max pulls the girl into him, and her demeanor shifts again. Relaxed from feeling safe in his arms. “Jack, can you take her to the other room?”

Oscar simply nods and gently leads the female to the connected room. Two rooms since apparently it’s difficult for them to all sleep comfortably in the same bed that isn’t built for five. There have been many angry physios because they were falling off the bed or settling for the floor. So, they had to change tactics.

When he closes the door behind him, the two throw themselves into bed. “Does Max not want us in there for a reason?”

“Do you want to be in there still? Because I’m happy to sleep.”

He will not get to sleep yet, however, because there is a knock on the door. Oscar groans in exhaustion and annoyance. How had they managed to know what room they were in? Doesn’t anyone sleep these days?!

Oscar takes his sweet time getting up and meandering to the door. He swings it open with more attitude than neccacary, but to his shock, there is nobody on the other side.

A small box sits outside the door. For everything that has happened, a box is probably the least of their worries. Oscar, however, still gets a chill up his spine when he bring it inside the space.

"A package? Did you see from who?"

"A ghost? An invisible man?"

"No need to be rude..."

Oscar sighs and starts ripping open the small cardboard box. "Sorry. I'm just tired -" he catches a glimpse of the contents. "A whole box for a single note!"

The girl looks at his with curiosity. If she weren't so damn cute, he would close the box and think about it later. Instead, he unfolds the paper. "It's a letter... from your father."

Lando watches the older boys intently. Carlos and Max have been going back and forth for awhile now.

“Have you considered that maybe this is a condition?”

“Have you considered that her father is a psycho?”

Carlos had been trying to figure out the reasons behind everything. There is one, technically speaking, but it isn’t their place to share that information.

“I know you want to protect her Max, but maybe you should consider visiting the the guy and asking him about it.” Carlos gets up off the bed and stands in front of Max. His stance is loose and relaxed. “She looks like she’s in pain and ready to break at any second.” He claps Max on the shoulder before heading out of the room.

Lando looks at the older two. “Well that was eventful.”

Max flops down in between himself and Charles. The groan he lets out is muffled by the pillows. “I don’t like his tone.”

“His tone? Or the fact maybe he was into something?” Charles quirks his eyebrows.

“Both.”

The three of them pull back the covers after getting ready for bed. Lando having checked that Oscar and their superhero of a girlfriend are at least in bed.

“On the bright side, we can’t even think about that until after this weekend. We’ve got driving to do still.”

Names with lines through them were unable to be tagged.

Tags: @styles-sunflower @purplephantomwolf @boiohboii @reblog-princess-blog @jjsprobablywrong @jayda12 @faithm120601 @eugene-emt-roe @lpab @yaaadii @80sloverry @spongebeck3101 @eviethetheatrefreak @chanshintien @vellicora @hollie911 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @be-your-coffee-pot @copper-boom @allmyfanfavorites @sadg3

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kywaslost · 8 months

Text

Heartburn - Keigo Takami

A/N: Working on requests has been a bit draining, and I’ve been in the mood to try and write for Hawks again so here’s this. Totally not based on how sick I felt the other night because of heartburn…

Warning/s: mentions of pills, mentions of vomit, gagging, and throwing up

Tears swelled in your eyes as you hunched over, slowly lowering yourself to fully brace yourself against the counter. Your phone dropped to the cool surface, switching to speakerphone as you awaited Hawks’ voice on the other end. You were begging anything and everything for him to pick up the phone. He didn’t answer the first time, and your facetime went unnoticed. You weren’t sure how much longer you could last without his help.

The pain just below your ribs increased and you couldn’t help but gag. Just as you were about to give up on the phone call, Hawks’ voice came through.

“Hey baby bird,” he cooed softly. “Everything ok?”

“Hey,” you replied quietly. “I need help.”

“What’s going on?” you could hear the worry in the hero’s response. “Are you hurt?”

“You know those chewy things for heartburn,” you began. “Can I take them with these pills in a pink bottle that says ‘stomach relief’?”

“Oh,” there was a soft chuckle on the other side of the phone. “You shouldn’t need to, but you can. The tums should work fairly quickly.”

“They ain’t tums,” you grunted, wrapping an arm around your chest. “They’re those chewy things.”

“Yeah I know what you’re talking about. They’re just a different type of tums.” Keigo was silent for a moment. “You have heartburn?”

“Bad,” you grimace again. “Just below my ribs. It hurts like hell. If I stand up for too long, or sit up too fast I feel like I’m gonna be sick. I took one of the chewy things earlier but it hasn’t done anything.”

“How long ago?”

You hummed in thought, glancing back at the stove in the kitchen. “Maybe 20 minutes ago? I don’t know, to be honest.”

“Take another one and give it another 10 or 20 minutes. If that doesn’t work then you can take the pills.”7

You nodded, knowing Hawks couldn’t see you. “Ok. Thank you.”

“Hope you feel better, dove. If you still feel nauseous when you go to bed, take some Zofran and have a bowl on standby. Make sure you drink plenty of water. I’ll be home in a few hours, but call me if you need anything else.”

You smiled slightly despite the pain in your chest and abdomen. “Ok, Kei. Goodbye.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” You set the bottle of pills down on the counter, digging through the shoe box of medication for the chewable tums you had just tossed into the box. Then, you grabbed a glass of water and made your way to your room. You gently laid down on the bed, shaking another chewable medication into the palm of your hand before tossing it back into your mouth. You took a sip of water and lowered yourself down to lay on your side.

Time passed and the pain didn’t ease, so you shakily took two of the pink pills you had called hawks about. They were fairly large pills, causing you to gag once again as you took them with another sip of water.

You toss and turn for hours, hoping to find a position that could relieve your pain, even if just momentarily. The space between the base of your ribs hurt the worst and even just the slightest bit of pressure threatened to make you throw up right then and there. The pain was enough to keep you awake, but at the same time you were so exhausted you managed to doze in and out of sleep.

You awoke every 45 minutes to a new, achier type of pain just below your ribs. You tried adjusting your position but it only ever managed to make the pain worse, causing you to gag and desperately try to keep the contents of your stomach from covering your blankets. No matter what you did you couldn’t relieve the pain.

Hawks came home just past two in the morning, silently making his way through the apartment in search of you. He cracked your door open ever-so-slightly to see you asleep in bed. He took the opportunity to take a quick shower and change into his night clothes before checking in on you one last time.

Keigo gently lowered himself to sit on the edge of your bed, taking in your distraught look. Your arms were wrapped around your torso and you were curled into a ball. Your eyebrows were furrowed in what Keigo could only assume was pain. He wanted to wake you and try and help relieve the pain, but Hawks also knew that if you woke up you may not get back to sleep and that was something he didn’t want to risk. Against his better judgment, he stood slowly so as not to wake you and began walking towards your door.

He froze, however, when he heard you groan and then cough harshly, followed by what he could only assume was a gag. Whipping back around the winged hero rushed back to you. He sat beside you once again and gently rubbed your back with one hand, holding your hair with the other in case you did throw up.

You gagged one last time before coughing, rubbing at your chest, then leaning into Keigo’s arms. Your head rests against his shoulder as his arms wrapped around you, one drawing gentle circles into your bicep. His head lowered to rest on top of yours, but not before he pressed a light kiss against your hairline.

“Not feeling any better?” he whispered softly, holding you just the slightest bit tighter.

You could only shake your head and cry into his shirt. “Make it stop.”

Taking a look around the room, Keigo saw medicine sitting on your bedside table. He reached over, gentle not to jostle you too much, and unscrewed the lid to the pills. He returned the bottle to the stand, and in return picked up your glass of water. “Here,” he muttered, handing the pills to you. You swallowed them quickly, thankful for the water that Keigo pressed to your lips. The coolness of the liquid barely managed to soothe the everlasting ache, but it was a start.

“Let’s lay back down, yeah?” Keigo offered, guiding you to lay against his chest as he got under the covers. Once you were comfortable, he began to gently massage the areas that hurt you the most. “Do you feel like you may be sick?” he asked. When you shook your head and closed your eyes, Hawks hummed in content.

You continued to wake up every hour or so, but every time Keigo would wake with you and do anything he could to help put you at ease. He hated that you had heartburn this bad, and that it happened more often than you’d like. There had been countless times he would awaken in the morning to you asleep on the bathroom floor, where you had resided after being in so much pain it would make you sick.

But for now, all Keigo could do was hold you and comfort you until you felt better.

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canirove · 2 months

Text

My neighbour Rúben | Chapter 15

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Masterlist

“Another party?”

“Another party” Lucy said while closing the door behind her, the pizzas that had just been delivered on her hands. “That greasy friend of his was coming out of the lift with a girl on each arm.”

“Greasy?”

“Yes, that one who doesn’t know what an encyclopedia is.”

“Oh, you mean Grealish” I laughed.

“Same thing. He has greasy hair, so” she shrugged.

Rúben was throwing a party. Again. Like after every game at home they had had lately. It had become his new favourite thing to do once his parents and Ivan had left for Portugal to continue with his recovery there.

Most of them lasted until pretty late, but the walls were thick and neither Julia, nor her mum or I, were hearing things we didn’t want to hear. Though most mornings we would cross paths with a different girl leaving his apartment, and it was all because of me.

The moment I came back from London I went to speak with him, to tell him everything that had happened with Aaron. And he hadn't taken it very well.

“I knew something like this would happen after you hung up. I just knew it!”

“Rúben…”

“No! He took advantage of you, you know? You said it yourself, you have little to no experience with men. He noticed and took advantage of it.”

“He didn’t, Rúben. Like I told you already, I said yes to it, I did it willingly.”

“As if that made it any better” he snorted.

“Rúben…”

“I need to be alone” he said, storming out the door, those words being the last we shared.

“Anyway” Lucy said, bringing me back to the present. “What Chris Evans' movie are we watching today?”

“The Red Sea Diving Resort.”

While Rúben was partying and doing God knows why, this was what I had chosen to do to cope with what had happened between us: watch Chris Evans’ filmography while it was just Lucy and I at home. It probably was the worst decision ever because he kept reminding me of Rúben and because Chris is a bit… special picking roles. But the time we were spending together was priceless.

“It sounds… interesting.”

“People say it is boring, but I’ve seen gifs online and he looks so hot.”

“Then it’ll be worth it” Lucy said, handing me a beer. “To Chris Evans’ boobs.”

“And America’s ass” I laughed.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Yes, grandma. I’ll go.”

“This may be it, you know?”

“I know. That’s why I’m going. See you next week, ok?”

“Ok. Love you, sweetie.”

“Love you too” I said, hanging up and walking into the lift. The moment it started moving, it made some weird noises, and when I was almost on my floor, it stopped. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Please move.”

But it didn’t. The lift had stopped.

I pressed my floor’s button again, but nothing was happening. Well, not really. The lights were flickering.

“No, no, no, no!” I screamed, pressing the emergency button, hoping someone would answer or come see what was going on. But it wasn’t working. Julia had pressed it more than once and it usually made a ring noise. Not today.

And then, the lights went off. I was in complete darkness.

“This can’t be happening. No, no, no” I said again, unlocking my phone and calling Roger. He had been at the door when I came in, he should be answering. But he didn’t. I tried many times, and he didn’t pick up.

“Ok, breathe. Just breathe” I told myself, my hands shaking. I needed to get out of that lift.

I tried calling Roger again, but it was pointless. The buttons still weren’t working and I was starting to feel very hot, so I sat down, trying to focus on my breath, closing my eyes and thinking that I was in my room, sitting on my bed, relaxing… But that didn’t work out either.

“Fuck!” I yelled, starting to cry. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

I unlocked my phone again, not sure about what I was doing. And then, for the first time in months, I called him.

“Rúben!” I cried when I heard him picking up. “Please don’t hang up, Rúben. I’m scared. Please.”

“Are you ok? What happened, where are you?”

“Home, stuck on the lift. Please come get me out of here, please” I said between sobs.

“I’m on my way home from training. I’ll be there in ten minutes, ok?”

“Please” I cried.

“Ten minutes. I promise.”

I’m not sure if it took him ten minutes to arrive or not, but it felt like an eternity. When I heard noise above my head, I thought I was dreaming. Or maybe going crazy. But then the lights turned on again, and the doors of the lift slowly started to open.

“I’m getting you out of there, ok?” Rúben said. “I’m here.”

He was the one opening the doors.

“Give me your hand” he said once there was enough space for me to go through. I did as he told me, and I was suddenly flying, finally leaving that damned lift.

“Rúben” I gasped when my feet touched the floor, hugging him and starting to cry again.

“It’s ok” he said, hugging me back. “It’s ok, you are ok. I’m here.”

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“Feeling better?” Rúben said, sitting on the couch next to me. “You’ve stopped shaking.”

“Yes, I think the tea is helping. Thank you.”

“Of course. Do you need anything else? Do you want me to call Lucy?”

“No, no, it’s fine. Don’t ruin her date.”

“Is she seeing someone?”

“Yep. And she doesn’t want to tell me who he is, which isn’t fair. I’ve told her everything about me and now she is keeping secrets.”

“What about you? Are you seeing someone? Ramsdale, perhaps?”

“Oh, no. We’ve texted a few times because he wanted to know how I was, but nothing else.”

“I'm sorry about everything I said that day" Rúben said after a few seconds in the most awkward silence ever. "About the way I shouted at you. I shouldn't have done it, I regret it so much…”

“It's ok.”

“No, it isn’t. I had barely slept, then during training Pep had gotten mad at me because I wasn’t focused, and even though it isn’t an excuse, when you told me what had happened in London I just exploded and made you pay for everything. And I shouldn't have done that. You didn’t deserve it, you had done nothing wrong.”

“I made out with another guy and ended up in bed with him.”

“But we weren’t dating, were we?” Rúben said. “And we hadn’t discussed if we were exclusive or the type of relationship we had.”

“I guess, yeah.”

“I’m sorry” he said again. “I really am. If I could go back in time and do things differently, I would. ”

So would I, I said to myself.

“What about the parties, tho?” I dared to ask. After his apology and basically clearing out things between us, I needed to know if he was seeing someone. If he had moved on. “Would you also change that?”

“Definitely.”

“Really? You all seemed to be having lots of fun.”

“Nah.”

“Then none of those girls you were with made the cut?” I said, arching an eyebrow. He noticed and answered like I expected: with that smirk of his, making the last bits of the knot in my chest disappear.

“They are Jack’s friends. Very hot, but if you ask them about... I don't know, Stradivarius, their first thought is the shop, not the violins. They’ve probably never heard about the violins, to be honest.”

“Rude” I chuckled.

“But it is the truth. Do you want another one?” he asked after I left my mug on the table.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

“I’ve missed you, you know? This. Us.”

“I’ve missed you too” I said, looking up at him. God, I had missed him. I had missed him so much. Seeing him in photos from the games or in training wasn’t the same as having him here, in the flesh, just a few centimetres away from me.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

“Please.”

And before I had time to blink, he was already doing it. And it was a movie worth kiss like all his kisses were.

“Rúben” I whispered between kisses, both of us laying on his sofa. “Let’s go to your room.”

“What?” he said, lifting his head from my neck and looking at me.

“I want to go to your room.”

“Are you… are you sure?”

“Yes. C´mon” I said, getting up.

━━━━━━❃━━━━━━

“You can stop me whenever you want” Rúben said, kissing my stomach.

“I know. I've heard you the other eighty times you’ve said it” I giggled.

“Just eighty?” he said while looking up at me, that smirk on his face.

“Eighty-one with this. And again, I’m telling you I don’t want you to stop. I want to do it. All of it. And I want to do it with you.”

#ruben dias #ruben dias fanfic #ruben dias imagine #football fanfic #football imagine

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notsoattractivearenti · 10 months

Text

Comfort Person (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 700+

Warnings: curse words

A/N: a quick and short one written for my girlies for a little pick-me-up, especially @swimmingismywholelife 🤍 hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 🫶🏻 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated ❤️

—

It has been a long difficult few weeks for you and you felt like the universe was punishing you for simply just existing. Bad things after bad things kept happening and made you feel like shit – the worst thing was that most things were out of your control. The helplessness you were experiencing was quite exhausting and a lot for you to handle.

You came home after work looking all upset and tired – you just wanted to lay in bed with your boyfriend, Christian, doing nothing until the day is finally over and probably have to go through another shit day all over again. You acted like you had no will to live anymore, though you kept wishing for good luck to finally be on your side.

Christian greeted you cheerfully the second you got home, your grumpy face caught his attention.

“Hello my beautiful lady, why so grumpy?”

“Ugh, another day another crap.” You grunted.

He pulled you in and gave you a kiss on your forehead and a big hug.

“Oh, my poor baby. Want to tell me what happened today?” He softly asked as he stroked your back.

“Maybe later, I need to change first. And eat. And watching a series.”

“Okay…” He kissed the top of your head. “Hope you don’t mind having Italian for dinner because I already got us some pasta and pizza.”

“Love it. Thank you.” You slightly smiled.

One of the things you love so much about Christian is that he knows how to give you the comfort you need. Somehow he always finds the right way to lighten up your mood no matter how terrible it might be – and this night was no different.

Now you’ve changed into your comfy clothes, you went to the living room and saw Christian was already there setting up the table in front of the TV and putting on your favorite show. He saw you coming over and his face lit up.

“Come on, dinner is ready!” He said as he pulled your hand and sat on the sofa.

He knew you just wanted to lay down and relax, therefore he brought the dinner to the living room so you could lay on the sofa and have your dinner there.

“So, do you feel ready to let me know what happened today?”

You sighed.

“Yeah… This day was terrible, again. Are you sure you want to hear shitty things all over again?”

He pulled you closer and let you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m all ears, my love.”

You then told him everything that happened to you earlier today. He was listening closely to you while you ranted about having to go through another difficult day – not once he let you out of his sight. He stroked your arms and your hair and gave you little kisses during. He really was empathized with you for what you went through, and he knew the only thing he could do was to be there for you – to comfort you in any way he could give you.

“Y/N, sweetheart… I’m sorry things have not been easy for you lately, but you know I’m here for you if you need anything.”

You sighed and slowly nodded.

“You know what, you are the strongest person I’ve ever known. Though life keeps throwing bad things at you, you’re still able to move forward. You should be proud of yourself! You and your resilience will never fail to amaze me.”

“Resilience? Do you mean me bitching about my problems?”

“I mean, that is the way you cope… And it is totally acceptable! I don’t mind hearing you, as you said “bitching about your problems”, because I’d rather you talk to me rather than keeping them to yourself!”

You let out a genuine smile and your eyes were already watery and red. God, what did I do to deserve a wonderful man like him? You thought to yourself.

“I… Ah, I don’t… I don’t know… I don’t know what to say…” You stuttered, your voice was breaking.

“You’ve said everything,” he chuckles, “don’t worry my love. I just said what I needed to say.”

You leaned in and kissed him on the lips. You couldn’t hold back your tears any longer, you started to cry.

“Chris… Despite all this shit, you are the best thing that ever happened to me. I love you, and I’m forever grateful to have you in my life…” You tearfully express your gratitude for him.

He wiped away your tears then kissed you.

“I love you more, Y/N.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @masonspulisic @swimmingismywholelife @chelseagirl98 @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem

#christian pulisic #christian pulisic x reader #christian pulisic x fem!reader #christian pulisic x y/n #christian pulisic imagines #christian pulisic fic #christian pulisic fanfic #christian pulisic fluff #footballer imagines #footballer fic #footballer fanfic #footballer fluff

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plush-rabbit · 11 months

Text

Spots and Stops

Continuation to Cookies and Cream this isn't really a fix-it fic, cause like i got like a request to do so and i'll defs try to, but also i got like two people who wanted a part 2 so here it is

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: People wanted a part two and i want to please the masses, and i have ideas so like here you go

Regret is all that you know. It consumes you, starting at your chest, making it ache the entire day, and settles in your stomach to the point that you can’t consume anything without it tasting bitter. You should have reacted better. You should have held him and told him that him being spotted wasn’t a dealbreaker.

But you didn’t.

Instead, you did everything wrong. He needed you. He needed someone, and he came to you. Somewhere, he thought to himself, that you would have accepted him, past your fear, past your hesitations and desires. He thought that you would want him.

In your entire relationship, you never thought that he would have ever been wrong. But he was, and in the worst way imaginable.

You have to force yourself to hide what belonged to him. You can’t bear to look at it- at him, at what used to be his. You hold his nightshirts in your hand, staring at them for far too long, lost in thought of what could have been. You really did think that you two would be together for a long time.

The fabric is wrinkled, the tag of the shirt curled in on itself and frayed at the edges. His toothbrush is still next to the faucet, and his face wash remains untouched. You can’t bring yourself to throw it away.

He won’t return. You won’t see him again, and as selfish and awful it is of you to keep something of the man that you rejected- you need to keep his things. You need to keep his shirts, and pants. You need to keep his skincare products. You need to keep his toothbrush. You need to keep some part of him with you.

A part of you wants him to return. You want him to come back; you want to take him up on that deal of starting fresh, of how he won’t hold what you said against you. How he was so willing to hide himself, just to stay with you. At some point, you expected to come into your home and find his stuff gone- the final sign that he has left your life- that he took what was his when you weren’t home. But he hadn’t. And he won’t. He would always listen to you. Always respected your wishes, and the final one was for him to leave.

You’re an awful person. You’re sickening. Tears dot on his shirt, and you place it beside you on the edge of the bed. Your knuckle wipes harshly at your eyes.

Taking in a deep breath, you force yourself to think of something happy. You don’t deserve to grieve the loss of the relationship. Not when you still have a home. A job. Loved ones. You have it all. He doesn’t. If anyone deserves to cry, it’s Jonathan.

You think of kittens and puppies.

You think of how his voice broke when he called your name.

You think of a memory with a friend where you had a picnic.

You think of how you couldn’t handle his touch.

You think of how he would hold your hand, and act as if it were the greatest honor to do so.

You think of him crying without a face.

You think of him lonely, and cold out in the night.

You bite your lips harshly, desperate to bring yourself back to your senses.

The sound of the city is alive outside your window. Lights flash, colors change, and you stand in the middle of your room, willing yourself not to cry.

You unlock the door, and throw your jacket on the couch. It slips and you pull a face at the audacity of having to pick it up. In your hand, you clutch the phone and listen to your friend talk.You shake the jacket, ridding it of any dirt that could have attached itself from the floor.

“Mhm,” you hum, kicking off your shoes and turning on the standing lamp, turning the knob to let a warm glow illuminate the room. You think you hear something somewhere, but you reason to yourself that it must be a pipe. “No, no. I get it. I mean, if it were me, I think I would have liked died.” Your grin is sharp when you hear your friend laugh.

“Exactly. So, that’s why I can never return to that specific bubble tea shop. Honestly, I just- it was so embarrassing,” they whine. You hear them sigh over the phone, and you stretch yourself over the couch, letting your head fall back. “Anyways, how was the date?” Your mouth pulls into a frown. “It’s been a good minute since-” they trail off, not wanting to mention his name, and you whisper a silent “thank you” at the courtesy. “Did you have fun?”

You straighten yourself back on the couch, pulling yourself close to yourself. “It was okay,” you mumble. “I don’t- I mean, he was nice and stuff, but I don’t know. I don’t really see it going anywhere.” You ate across from your date, and you wished that it was Jonathan.

“It doesn’t have to go anywhere,” the counter. “You can just have fun. You’re allowed to have fun after your last relationship.” You clench your jaw. “I know you really liked him, but he’s- you know.” You’re trying to find your words, but none come to mind. “You’re a catch- honest. You’re allowed to go on dates and enjoy yourself.”

Tears sting in your eyes, and you swallow the lump that’s made itself into your throat. “Yeah, you’re right,” you agree, without even trying to add faux emotion into your words.

“You uh-” they clear their throat- “Have you heard from him? Or about him? It’s kinda hard for a guy covered in-”

“I gotta go,” you mumble, not waiting for a response before you end the call. You toss the phone to the other end of the couch. You close your eyes, trying to steady your thoughts, and on the other end of the couch, you hear your phone buzz.

There’s another sound in your apartment, and you hope that it’s an intruder. You hope that they rob you blind and leave no witnesses. You hope- selfishly hope- that you can be put out of your misery without having to do anything. Then maybe, you wouldn’t have to feel guilt and regret eat away at you. You wouldn’t have to go on anymore dates or live in an apartment with items that don’t belong to you.

The room spins and closes in on itself and it’s difficult to breathe. Your chest feels as if it’s being crushed, held tightly with the palms of guilt and regret, squeezed until your ribs would splinter and heart would burst. Your breaths are quick and uneven. A hand clutches at your chest, and the other muffles any cries with the palm. You haven’t grieved, and the date that you went on, only confirmed that you shouldn’t. You tossed out your previous partner when he needed you the most. He cried in front of you, begged for you to accept him and you couldn’t. You’re able to continue your life as if nothing happened, he doesn’t have that same luxury. Even if you weren’t the one to cause the incident, you’re positive that you caused something worse to happen to him.

You miss him, but you shouldn’t be allowed to miss him.

Loneliness covers you in a warm blanket. It’s suffocating, and burning, holding you down as you wrap your arms around yourself. There is no comfort that you bring to yourself. There is no one that you can call. You wheeze and hold yourself. Tears burn themselves onto your face, and drip down your chin. You close your eyes tightly, biting on the bottom of your lip. You can’t cry. You won’t cry. You won’t allow yourself to feel bad about the ending of a relationship that you brought upon yourself.

Nearby, you hear a door click open, and footfalls thump softly against your floor. There’s a knock somewhere- too rhythmic to be a pipe or anything of the sort. You cry more, hiding your face in your palms, hoping that whoever is there will take pity. There’s another knock, and you shrink in on yourself. You can’t mumble anything other than a plea for nothing and anything. Finally, the other person speaks.

Your name is said softly, and you don’t respond. “I- I know you don’t want to see me, but are you okay?” Your chest shakes and heaves. You’re being tortured, you have to be. You’ve thought about him for far too long that you’ve begun to hallucinate his voice. “Do you need anything? I can um- I can get you a drink?” You take in a wheezing breath, one that hurts your lungs and chest. You hear rushed steps that echo away and come back in a flurry, and something blue is placed in front of you. You peek through the gaps between your fingers, and grab at a tissue.

Time seemingly doesn’t pass for as long as you cry. You sit there, whimpering and sniffling. You must look pathetic to him. And even then, he stands there. The thought of his previous form is what you picture. Picturing him as who he is now, only makes you cry harder.

You tried to get over your silly fear. You forced yourself to look at spots and holes in clusters. You forced yourself to eat cookies and cream flavored snacks. Even after all that exposure therapy, it still made you sick to look at spots.

This isn’t fair. None of this is. You wish that he had met someone better before he became what he is.

You bite the inside of your cheeks and look at him through wet lashes. You can’t even tell if he’s thin or not. His body is too off- too stretched at the limbs and compressed at the torso. You can’t remember if he looked like this all those nights ago.

“I know you told me to get out but I needed some stuff.” His voice rushes at the end, and he shifts his weight, tightening his hands around the clothes and pulling it close to his body. You watch as their clothes and other items fall into a hole, and fall in a crumpled pile near the door. You turn back to look at him. “I meant to do that,” he says weakly. He clears his throat, and stands taller. “I’m allowed to come in here and get my stuff. Okay? That’s fair.” The holes swirl around, thin black lines that wrap around the edge of the circle, smaller, black dots that linger around the bigger holes. You turn your head, tears still making their way down over the curve of your face. “But um, are you okay?” He connects his hands, and fiddles with his fingers, and you can picture who he was before.

Even after everything, he still asks if you’re okay. He does the one thing that you didn’t do for him.

You should tell him no. You should be honest. It’s not as if lying will do any good, especially at this state. Your face is wet, and you’ve cried. In the corner of your eye, you see your former partner stand and tilt their head, trying to get a better look at you.

Looking at him hurts in a way that it hadn’t before. “I’m sorry,” you say in a quiet voice. He doesn’t respond. “I’m so sorry,” you repeat, lowering your head. “I’m really sorry.” You cry, hiding your face in your hands once more. “I’m so sorry,” you wail, gasping for breath. Your shoulders shake, and your chest hurts. “I’m sorry, Jonathan,” you say as you gasp for breaths.

He stays silent, and you hope that for his sake, he left you. You hope that he’s the one who gets to leave.

Only quivering breaths that are coupled with a flushed face and teary eyes are the remnants that you mourned. Faintly, you remember a time where he held you, where he came home to find you crying, and how he raised over still in his work attire to hold you and rock you to sleep. You blink rapidly to rid yourself of that memory.

He sits beside you, and he’s made sure to keep his distance, perched on the other side of the couch. He turns to you, and your tissues crumble and drop to the carpet. “You look nice,” he compliments. “I always liked that color on you,” he mumbles, looking away.

You nod. “I went on a date.” Bile burns your throat at the admission.

“Oh.” Jonathan pats his thighs, and his nails claw, the spots seemingly swimming away from his touch. “Lucky guy.” He pauses, and clearing his throat, he turns to you. “How did it go?” He asks slowly.

“I didn’t like the guy.” Your shoulders slump, and tears prick your eyes once more. “Um-” your voice cracks, and in the corner of your eye, you see his hand jump, reaching over to comfort you, before having to pull himself back. “He was nice. But I wasn’t-” You stop yourself. You weren’t what? You weren’t ready? After all this time, after the break-up that you initiated, you weren’t ready to put yourself back out there. You weren’t feeling the date because it wasn’t what you wanted? You didn’t want him. You wanted- You clear your throat. “I don’t think I’m going to see him again,” you mumble. You cast a glance over to where he watches you, the hole where his face should be, spiraling and growing smaller under your gaze. “Have you been seeing anyone?”

He snorts despite the lack of features. “People aren’t really fond of my new look.” You wince and turn back to look at the floor. “But it’s fine.”

“How have you been?” You grab at another tissue, folding it into little squares.

“Well you know me, I’ve just been here and there. Messing with my holes and stuff.” You give a small smile, turning your head to look at him. “Money’s been a bit tight, but-” he lifts his hand in the air, doing a see-saw motion with it- “Eh. What can you do, ya know?” You force yourself to look at a small cluster of spots that have congregated at his shoulder. He turns to look at you, and when noticing where your eyes have landed, he covers the spot almost self-consciously. “And you? How have you been?”

You give a shrug. “My boss has been a bit of a dick as of late,” you mutter.

“The one with the mole?”

Your smile brightens up a bit. “Yeah, that one.” You look to the side, and back to him. “Cut my hours after I asked for a day off.” The tissue in your hand tears. “I probably should quit.” You tear the tissues into strips, letting them fall to the floor. You’ll worry about the mess later. “But after the lack of hours and the rent, I really can’t afford that.”

Jonathan stays silent for a moment. “You think you’ll be okay?” You give another shrug as your answer, and when you don’t elaborate, he presses on. “I have some money saved up. I wouldn’t mind- it’s you, you know. I know-” His offer only makes the tears start up once again, and he stops.

You take in a quivering breath, and rub at your eyes. “You shouldn’t,” you mumble. “I’ll figure it out.” You look away from him. “Plus, I’m sure you got your own things going on. Um-” you turn back to him- “where are you living?” You hope he gives you an address. You hope he has an address to give.

“Turns out, when you work for seedy people, they know even seedier people.” He doesn’t offer anything more than that.

Silence befalls the both of you. You should say something. You should close the gap between you. You should do anything.

Your hand slides beside you, reaching out, and you see his spot, lower itself, acting as his eyes, lowering his gaze to watch you. Sucking in your bottom lip, you turn your head. Your nails claw at the couch.

This is wrong. You shouldn’t do this to him. He deserves better than what you can give him. You haven’t even gotten over your trypophobia. But you still want to kiss him. You want to reach over and hold him, and beg to be forgiven. You want to cling to him like you used to after a long day. You want to kiss him, and hold his hand.

To whoever is listening to you, you plead for him to reach over. You want him to take another leap of faith and beg for you. You want him to need you as bad as you need him. The box of tissues becomes blurred, and your cheeks are wet.

“I should go.” The silence is broken, and you watch as he stands. His spots seem to drag, weighted at the bottom and stretching as he walks further away from you. “I think I got most of my stuff.”

The hole is his stomach bubbles around the rim, the circle wavy and imperfect. You rise with him, and he stands so much taller than he did before. “Do you want to borrow a tote bag or something?” He tilts his head at the offer. “It’s just that when you hold onto things, it um- it looks like they fall into you. I thought a tote bag would make it easier to carry,” your words trail off, softer and softer by the syllable.

“I’d appreciate that,” he replies.

You nod your head and rush to your room, grabbing at a tote bag from the closet, holding and running your thumb over the stitched handles. He’s going to borrow it. You bring the handle close to you, and press your lips softly against it.

When you walk back to the living, he stands at the end table, holding a photo frame of the two of you on an early date from what seems like a lifetime ago. You let your gaze linger on him, and when he turns, you scurry to the door, grabbing at his clothes and items, placing them delicately in the bag. You take your time to make sure everything is neat.

He meets you halfway across the room, and when you hand the bag over, he makes sure to hold the bag above your hands. His pinky touches briefly against your index. You clench your jaw, and try not to look at him.

“Thank you.” He pulls the bag close to him, and you give a curt nod.

“Anytime,” you answer.

Turning on his heel, he walks further from you, and he stops. “I’m going to use the bathroom. I don’t want you to see what I’m going to do.” You want to see. You want to get desensitized. “It won’t be long, I promise. I’ll be out of your way soon.”

“Jonathan?” You ask, tears springing to your eyes once more.

“Yeah?”

“I-” You need to apologize to him. You need to tell him that you’re sorry. You need to tell him that you miss him. You need him. “You can- You can always drop by if you need something.”

He visibly deflates. “Oh. Yeah- cool. Um, Thanks.”

All he has to do is say that he wants you. He needs to just say it, to ask one more time- that’s all he has to do. You can’t do it. Not when you broke his heart, not when you’re unsure about where you stand in his life and his wants.

He just has to look back, and you’d tell him that you need him. You’d kiss him, again and again. You’d plead for him to stay. You’d get over your dumb fear, and you’d be happy with him. He takes another step away from you, and you need for him to hear your heart beat against your ribs in an attempt to bully itself out of you. You need for him to stand there for a second longer, to watch and look at the lines that wrap around his body, and the holes that sift and move. You’d get over it, all for him.

You open your mouth, but nothing comes out. He’s walking further away from you. He grabs at his body and pulls out a spot. Your stomach churns at the thought. Over the sound of cars and life, he needs to hear your heart break. He needs to understand that you need him the way that you need air. You’d die without him. You’d let yourself suffer. You stand, and lift your hand up, wanting to reach out for him.

Turn around.

Please.

Turn around.

That’s all he has to do. Nothing more. He doesn’t have to be someone else. He’s yours. He’s already himself.

The door to your bathroom closes, and you suck in a breath, tears springing to flood. “Jonathan,” you croak out, finally, and you rush to open the door to the bathroom, and when you do, he isn’t there.

You rush to your bedroom, and move the pillows, and you cling to the one shirt that he missed. The one that you hide underneath your pillows. The one that no longer smells like him, but still belongs to him. With all your might, you wish that he would return, but your prayers remain unanswered. Instead, you sit alone in a bedroom, clutching a shirt that no longer belongs to you. A shirt that has no owner. A shirt that is all that remains of someone who you need.

#jonathan ohnn x reader #jonathan ohnn #johnathan ohnn x reader #johnathan ohnn #the spot atsv #the spot x reader #the spot #atsv spot #the spot across the spiderverse #i wanted to title it i can't breathe #cause i was listening to mitski #but like i already had this title planned #so yeah #tbh i think it probably fits better that the other title #i really like mitski tho #i remember talking to a clients kid and told them that i liked mitski and they were like oh oh no #and im like yeah #:']#i know a lot of would like to be like heck yeah im sticking with my partner after he's become so interdimensional traveler #and like same #but also i think i would like think of the things that i would miss #idk #maybe not #geez it sure would be inconvenient if my partner turned into some scary abomination #hope it doesn't happen #(⓿_⓿)#༼ つ ◕_◕ ༽つ

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separatist-apologist · 23 days

Text

Take Me Back To The Night We Met

Summary: Gwyneth Berdara wants nothing more than to return home and exact revenge on the courtiers who hurt her and killed her sister. Exiled to a distant temple, Gwyn finds herself at the mercy of a mysterious stranger offering to escort her home on orders from her eldest brother and king of the realm.

Unraveling the secrets of the strange soldier will prove more deadly than Gwyn could ever have imagined, setting into motion events that began nearly five hundred years before.

Happy @gwynrielweeksofficial!

TW for mentions of past sexual assault

Read on Ao3

Gwyn was beginning to believe the gloom would never lift. Though she tried to remember, she couldn’t recall a time when the world had been so draped in fog. It was supposed to be spring, wasn’t it? Where was the sunshine, the chirping birds, the swaying flowers? All was rot and ruin, like death itself stalked the world to keep the world in perpetual slumber.

It made waking difficult, though the pounding fist on the other side of the door was insistent enough to convince her to throw back the scratchy blanket before Azriel burst in. “I’m up, I’m up,” she grumbled. Gwyn stood in the room, staring at the dishes piled against a little table as she tried to recall her dreams…but nothing came. Odd. Gwyn couldn’t remember the last time she’d had dreamless sleep, though she wasn’t complaining, either. She felt strangely unburdened, as though someone had come in and scooped out the worst of her grief and guilt and set it all to one side.

Gwyn was quick to braid her hair and dress in riding clothes, abandoning the aqua dress from the day before. That belonged to the priestesses, not the princess. And out here, she was neither—just Gwyn. That felt strange, too. She’d never been just herself. It was just play pretend until she reached the palace and yet Gwyn liked the sight of herself in rough pants and a fitted shirt only half tucked in. Neither Merril nor Eris would have approved, which made Gwyn happy.

Another series of pounding knocks drew Gwyn out of her satisfied staring. With a sigh, she made her way to the door where Azriel stood dressed exactly as he had the night before. “Sleep well?” he asked, a bite in his voice. Clearly he hadn’t.

“Like a babe,” she replied, the worst honest. “And I’m hungry.”

“What a surprise,” he grumbled, gesturing toward the narrow hall and the creaking stairs just at the end. It was hard to imagine Azriel, with his powerful frame, sleeping here. Would he be able to stretch out his legs? Did she feel pity for him?

Maybe a little, she supposed, though the dark scowl etched over his otherwise lovely face certainly dampened some of it. He didn’t have to sleep in the hall. He could have slept in his own bed across the way given he’d locked her in from the outside. His exhaustion was his fault and Gwyn refused to feel bad for him. Perhaps he’d learn his lesson this upcoming night and be more proactive.

Or perhaps by the time they reached the palace he’d be a snarling, snapping beast. Either way, Gwyn just barely cared. He was a grown man, he didn’t need her to take care of him. Nor did she have any interest in doing so.

Such was her good mood that Gwyn forgot who occupied the tavern, halting so abruptly at the sight of all those men that Azriel barreled into her back without warning. She would have slammed to the ground, likely chipping a tooth had he not reached out to grab her, yanking her against his chest before any harm could come to her.

“Careful,” he warned in that low, lethal voice of his. Shrugging off his touch with casual indifference, Gwyn allowed Azriel to pick a table close to a dirty window. “Don’t move.”

A few eyes drifted toward her, lacking the curiosity she was so accustomed to. Perhaps, after being gone for so long, no one expected to see a Vanserra so far north. Or maybe she no longer looked like one at all, a thought that deflated some of her good mood. All she had was her family—if she lost them, who even was she?

Just Gwyn, that voice whispered seductively. That was enough, at least for the moment. And Gwyn had no more time to truly turn the thought over because Azriel appeared, balancing steaming bowls of porridge alongside a heaping serving of rather sad looking fruit.

“Eat,” he said, turning again only to return with bread and a jam and a carafe of water. She did as she was told, delighted by the fare even if it was merely mediocre. Sometimes food was good so long as it was hot and available, and Gwyn knew better than to be picky right then. Lunch would be served from a satchel–dry bread, hard cheese, and dried meat that Azriel tossed over before remembering she probably needed water, too. Gwyn would eat that, too, atop her horse even though the swaying made her a little nauseous.

Azriel certainly ate like a soldier, finishing well before she had so he could stare with disapproval. Just because he could unhinge his jaw and had no need to chew didn’t mean the rest of the world did.

“I thought you were anxious to arrive home,” he grumbled when Gwyn reached for more bread.

“Not exactly,” she admitted around the food she’d begun chewing. “I want to return but I’m…” Why was she telling him this? “You’ll tell Eris everything I say, won’t you?”

Was that a smile? It flickered and then faded but Gwyn swore it had been present. “I have no intention of gossiping with the king, if that’s your concern.”

She could have throttled him right then. Why couldn’t he just be a regular ass and say her secrets held no interest to either himself or Eris and leave it at that. Gossiping? When he’d asked her a direct question and she intended to answer it truthfully?

“Forget it,” she grumbled. Azriel didn’t press, drumming his fingers against the wood table until Gwyn had eaten so much she couldn’t promise that she wouldn’t be sick when she got atop her horse. Somehow she managed and thus begun another miserable, silent day with the man her brother had deemed trustworthy enough to bring her home.

Gwyn still remembered that frantic kiss. The it’s you before slumping back into unconsciousness. Who had he thought she was? And where had that man gone? She wasted a good part of the morning idly wondering what woman could love someone as cold as Azriel and the rest turning her plan over in her mind.

Once again, they came into another haunted looking village with a populace of exhausted, overworked people. And once again, Azriel ordered her silence while he paid for a room. The tavern felt indistinguishable from the last in terms of how it was built nor did the people seem any different.

In fact…as Gwyn looked over the tavern, she swore the two men half hidden in shadow in the corner of the room were familiar. She couldn’t see faces but their builds…had they been at the tavern the night before?

No. That was both silly and absurd. Surely there were large men all over the world and it wasn’t surprising a few might find their way into the nightly tavern after a hard day at work. But Gwyn was uneasy as Azriel led her up to the room he intended to lock her back up in.

“What?” he asked when she hesitated, standing in the doorway.

She could have told him.

And he would have thought she was crazy.

“Nothing,” she lied, turning back for the tiny, chilly room. The door snapped shut behind her and a lock clicked, making her little more than a prisoner once more. It was just a coincidence, though the anxiety ribboning in her gut told her otherwise. What was Azriel doing down there? Gwyn filled the tub with warm water and while she scrubbed the dirt from her hair and skin, she began to count the seconds.

Was he waiting to give her time to bathe? Or was he doing something else?

Merril’s dagger was still tucked in her bag, half-forgotten until she dug through, looking for something clean and warm to sleep in. Gwyn hadn’t bothered to question why Merril would do such a thing…but what if they knew something she didn’t?

“You’re paranoid,” she whispered to herself, though she couldn’t shake that feeling, even when Azriel came up with food and a scowl. She waited until his back was turned to ask, “Where do you hail from?”

“The coast,” he replied casually, not looking back at her.

Gwyn knew if she asked who his father is, he’d give her a name she’d never heard of. But all Eris’s close guards were nobility, second and third sons hoping to gain favor and avoid priesthood, but who would never gain a title and all that came with it. Would Eris send a common, low-born man to retrieve his sister?

Once, Gwyn would have been able to answer that question without hesitation, but now…maybe Eris would. That was the problem—she was jumpy, nervous of strangers and distrustful and Azriel refused to give her a reason to trust her. Strange, how that instinct of his lent credibility to what was happening.

Gwyn settled uneasily in bed, listening to the sound of Azriel’s heavy boots just outside the door. With a thunk, he plopped down and something about knowing he’d spend another miserable night sleeping upright made her say, “You can sleep in here, if you want?”

He was silent for so long that Gwyn was certain he wouldn’t respond. Well, fine. At least she tried to be nice. That was more than he could say, though perhaps they didn’t teach courtly manners on the coast. And maybe this was more punishment from Eris, something Gwyn hadn’t even considered.

She was half asleep when Azriel’s voice floated back to her. “Where?”

That was a good question. He couldn’t have the bed and there wasn’t a chair. “The floor?” she offered, thinking she could hand him one of the lumpy pillows and half-shredded blankets, if he wanted them.

She heard him chuckle. “How…sweet.”

But he didn’t move, and Gwyn tumbled into sleep not long after. Her dreams were back with a vengeance, pulled from the vault she typically locked them in as though someone held the threads of her mind and was combing through—looking for something. Gwyn fought, thrashing as she tried to pull herself out of her nightmares, but something kept sucking her deeper into the abyss.

Show me, show me, show me.

Gwyn resisted, holding the memories of the attack, of her sister's dead body so tightly she swore she could taste blood. Someone was screaming as she fought, begging for help that Gwyn couldn’t give them. She wouldn’t give her sister up to this monster, this creature living in her mind even when that seductive voice promised to free her of the torment she felt.

Better to feel the torment than to forget.

Gwyn surfaced abruptly to the near glowing eyes of Azriel. His face was impossibly close, his hands gripping her arms as he shook her.

“You’re screaming,” he said, when Gwyn stared back, trying to make sense of what was happening. Azriel was in the bed, straddling her as he held her, his gaze searching for some explanation. She blinked.

“I was?”

But of course she had been. Her heart was racing, thudding in her throat so painfully she could taste blood. “I…”

Azriel seemed to realize he was on top of her and swung his leg over the bed so Gwyn could sit up. “I don’t remember,” she finally said, trying to recall what had just happened. “Was I having a nightmare?”

Azriel swore softly, running a hand through his inky hair while turning his back to her. “You sounded as if you were being murdered.”

“Oh,” she replied.

Azriel turned again, something vicious etched into his features. It ought to have frightened her—she was certain in the morning it would—but right then, Gwyn only felt relief.

“What happened to you?”

Her hands went cold. Looking at the thin blanket bunched around her hips, Gwyn whispered, “Nothing happened to me.”

Nothing he was entitled to know, anyway. Azriel was just another man who wouldn’t help—who would protect the people who had hurt her and her sister. Telling him was likely to see her injured all over again. Or worse, if the men at court ever thought Gwyn had told someone. Some secrets had to stay just that—secret.

“Liar,” he whispered, the word filled with venom.

Gwyn didn’t like him right then. “Why would I tell you anything?” she shot back. “It’s not like you’ve given me any reason to trust you. Thank you for waking me up—and sorry if I scared you. But as far as I can tell, you’re not entitled to know anything else.”

A muscle feathered in his jaw. “My apologies, princess.”

Azriel stormed from the room, though he was careful not to slam the door. She heard him pace for a moment before he thudded back to the floor, his back against the wall. Something about his presence was soothing at least right then.

Gwyn didn’t need to remember to know what the dream had been about. She wished she could forget Catrin’s death.

And knew she never would.

#gwynriel #this chapter is so short because it used to have a really long azriel pov #and i removed it so as to not spoil my plot

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