#those will be my last words if i get chomped by this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

euphoricfilter · 1 year

Note

im in LOVE w your yandere ddlg fics… can i request one w namjoon? 🫣🫣 i feel like he fits the ddlg concept so well ugh

𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦:

pairing: yandere! namjoon x f. reader

genre: fluff || smut || non-idol au || established relationship au ||

summary: if namjoon’s life were a book, he thinks the day his eyes set on you, it had been the start of a fairytale. where he is the prince, and you, his princess.

word count: 5.5k

tags/ warnings: disgusting amounts of fluff, buff bf namjoon, reader is definitely an ipad baby, she’s also very very spoiled, and very very shy, ddlg themes, non-sexual dom joon, descriptions of murder, a few references to literature, smut in the forms of: unprotected sex (this is fiction, don’t be stupid), dom! namjoon, sub! reader, he’s girthy, size kink, cockwarming, belly bulge, dick riding, female masturbation, fingering, oral (f. receiving), multiple orgasms, creampie, lots of praise, and she’s a bit of a pillow princess, aftercare

notes: i agree!! he fits this concept so well!! and thank you for reading my other works babes! and here i present my last post of 2022! if there are mistakes, no there aren’t you didn’t see anything

request rules can be found here || my masterlist

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

You were Namjoon’s fairytale dream. A distressed princess locked in the wicked witch’s tower— that was this corrupt world that the two of you lived in.

Him, your knight in shining armour, sweeping you off your feet and dressing you in pretty dresses and jewels just like a true princess.

Truthfully Namjoon liked the classics better, words articulated like poetry and feelings forever carved into paper with ink. Little pieces of each author weaved into each book they’d ever written, secrets between pages and fantasies hidden behind flowery words. Hours upon hours of knowledge stacked up in Namjoon’s mind, useless little things that no one had ever cared to ask him about.

Perhaps romance novels were his guilty pleasure. That sickly feeling you get, reading about two people so in love that you have to sit back and realise that your own life is nothing more than a slow burn. Where truly, you’re the side character that is left and forgotten, watching the people around you— the main cast of the story, fall in love and find their god-awful happiness that you can only dream of.

You see, Namjoon had learnt how patience was a virtue. He’d waited year and years for that love story, for the perfect, pure, unadulterated adoration for another human, like in all those romance novels.

Countless flings and unexplainable anger from all the women who had shattered his heart over and over again had led him to you. Had steered him towards the right path. Perhaps like the yellow brick road, him being Dorothy and you, Emerald City. His final destination.

You’d always been awfully shy. Something Namjoon completely adored about you. Something he knew you were a little insecure about; among other things.

His remedy to your doubt, fucking you until all you knew was his and your names. Fucked so dumb you could only cry, clinging onto him like he weren’t the wolf and you weren’t little red, pure white dove chomped and chewed in his jaws like Carol Ann Duffey had described— you locked in his claws as he ripped away at tattered old clothing.

Past relationships had ended on bad terms for you, similar to himself, because it seemed no one had ever taken the time to read into you properly. Hadn’t taken the time to map out your story on paper and analyze you; the perfect specimen, the apple of his eye, a goddess among humans and his pretty little princess.

So soft and so pretty. Something a little sick, twisted, in his mind that he’d been able to lock you away in a cage like a bird, delicate little wings snapped in two where escape was impossible; thoughts of a life without him nothing more than a breathy whisper in the wind.

“Which one do you want today, sweetheart?” Namjoon’s arm laces around your shoulder, tugging you closer into his side. Your Mary Janes tapping gently against the tile floor.

You peer into the display case, fingers tightly clasped around the sleeve of his hoodie; an anchor for your fraying feelings, anxiety creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t rush you, simply raising an eyebrow at the worker behind the counter who gets angsty at your thoughtful pondering. Line of customers slowly building behind the two of you; and Namjoon can hear a few impatient mutters.

“Strawberry, please” you fall back into his side, weight solely dependent on Namjoon holding you up.

Your boyfriend turns his attention back towards the barista, fingers carding through your hair.

“One americano, a hot chocolate and one of the strawberry cakes, thank you” he turns his attention back to you; watching as you rock and forth on your heels.

“Why don’t you go and pick a table out for us, darling?”

You hum, fingers tugging at his sleeve mindlessly once more before you’re scampering towards a table by the window.

Namjoon feels his cock twitch in his pants as you bend over the table slightly, collecting the discarded straw wrappers that had been left on the table; and he watches your skirt raise a little up your thighs, supple skin taunting him.

He doesn’t bother with whatever the barista tells him, pushing his card across the counter as he watches you; legs bouncing anxiously as you grip the hem of your shirt, finally taking a seat.

He waves at you as he waits at the end of the counter, the scent of freshly brewed coffee thick in the air and Namjoon worries about the impeding headache you’re sure to have.

“Here you go, pretty” he places the tray in the middle of the table, tutting when you go to grab your mug of hot chocolate. You simply fall back into your chair, eyes trained on Namjoon’s hand as he places your drink before you.

“Thank you” you smile up at him as he pulls out the chair beside you.

“You’re welcome” he coos, dragging your chair closer to his own, his neck craning to kiss your temple.

Your smile is shy though your attention is quickly snatched by his fingers that dig around the pocket of his hoodie.

He pushes his phone to your side of the table, hand laying heavy on the back of your neck as you pick it up.

“I’m gonna get a new high score” you tell your boyfriend, turning to give him a determined smile as your tap tap tile game loads.

“Yeah?” he asks, eye smile so pretty you get lost looking at him for a moment. Only snapping out of your own little reverie when he blows on your hot chocolate. “Drink up” he reminds you.

You nod, delicate fingers picking your mug up by the handle, and you watch as Namjoon brings his own coffee to his lips for a taste.

“Good?”

You nod, “Good”

Namjoon’s thumb continues to brush over the back of your neck as you hunch over the table, bottom lip tucked between your teeth as you load up one of the songs of your game.

Your mouth falls open when Namjoon’s fingers dig into the back of your hair, tugging your head back.

He watches as your lips close around the forkful of cake he feeds you, endeared smile on his face as a little bit of the cream clings to the corners of your lips. You don’t seem to take much notice as his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, eyes glued to the screen of his phone.

Your lips part after swallowing, tongue peeking out to lick at the pad of Namjoon’s thumb before he’s slipping it into your mouth.

“Yummy?” he asks, and you fall back into your chair— game suddenly long forgotten as Namjoon’s thumb lays heavy on your tongue.

You nod, fingers itching for the fork. Your boyfriend simply tuts, “Let me do that for you” his thumb slips out of your mouth, soon replaced with another large forkful of strawberries and cream.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon’s attention is quickly snatched from his laptop when he hears a gentle knock on the door of his home office.

You always seemed to count a few seconds before you opened the door, always mindful that he was often busy; even if he’d made it clear that he was never too busy for you.

“What’s wrong, darling?” he closes his laptop, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re not in bed” you whisper, still lingering in the doorway. Frilly-socked feet shuffling anxiously against the carpet.

Namjoon thinks you look like a dream, eyes heavy with lingering sleep, thin strap of your silk nightdress slipping off your shoulder as you curl in on yourself. Always ever so shy, even after years together.

He’d taken his time pampering you that evening. An hour spent in the bath where’d he’d lathered your body in thick suds of soap, sweet smelling like roses that had sat in the summer sun all afternoon, skin warm like petals that had basked in the golden rays of light. Silent promises of a love that will last forever, until he takes his last breath, until the world ceases to exist and his love can longer be— traced under light fingertips that knew your body better than you ever would.

You squirmed as he’d rubbed lotion into every inch of skin your body had to offer— body his temple, your soul his goddess that he worshiped like you were his only purpose in life. Each breath he took, every step he’d continue to take, everything for you.

You’d laid spread across his lap as he’d worked any knots out of your back before dressing you up pretty for bed. Flimsy silk nightdress tickling your skin, brushing against bare thighs, where Namjoon’s hands had the freedom to roam your body until you’d been giggling at him to stop.

His favorite pastime, brushing your hair before bed; his hands those of Rumplestiltskin, each strand treated like intricately created golden thread, gentle as he tugs each knot until perfect.

He’d been there when you’d fallen asleep, bones jelly after he’d fingered you to an orgasm and mind nothing more than cotton candy softness as you’d tugged your precious little bunny to your chest. A gift he’d given you your first date together; and although you claimed you never had favorites , it was always his bunny that remained in your arms as you slept.

And truly he thought tonight he would finish up the last of the project he’d been given, the rest of the week yours; his time cupped in your hands to use however you pleased. The smile you were sure to give him each day after work, worth the pain of a single one nighter.

“I have some work to finish up, why don’t you go lay down, and I’ll be there in a little while” he tilts his head, gentle smile toying at the corners of his lips.

Your lips mould into a pout, “No” you shake your head, voice pulling out a little whiny “You have to come with me, Joonie. Right now”

“But I’m busy, darling” he coos, rolling his chair away from his desk. Legs falling open and he wonders how long it’ll take you to crawl into his lap.

He watches you thrown yourself to the floor, falling to your knees with a dull thump, and he worries they’ll bruise. You don’t seem to care, too pre-occupied with the start of your bubbling tantrum to care about any future injuries; you’ll be sure to milk all of your boyfriend’s sympathy when you he patches you up later. Crying until he’s kissing it all better, and maybe he’ll buy you a gift for being so brave.

He’d seen you scrolling through a few shops online earlier in the day before dinner, rosy-red blush painting your cheeks at a few items you’d hopefully saved.

You hiccup, stuffed bunny clung to your chest as you shake your head. “No, no” you sniffle, “You have to come now” your legs kick a little underneath you.

It was no secret that Namjoon liked to spoil you. Truthfully, he didn’t see the issue— what else was he supposed to do when housing a little princess? If you wanted something then who was he to say no?

Especially when you looked up at him through wet lashes, tears clinging to your cheeks like freshly fallen rain would the petal of a flower.

“Don’t cry” he frowns, heart clenching at the utter distraught on your face; cheeks glazed in saline tears and eyes watery, another miserable cry ready to slip past your lips. “Come here, my precious little baby”

The sob you let out is pitiful, bunny’s fluffy little paw held so tight in your hand as you push yourself to stand. Floppy ears soaking up your tears as you wipe your cheeks.

Namjoon’s hand’s curl under your thighs as you push yourself into his lap, a new wave of tears spilling down your cheeks.

“oh dolly” he croons, “You’ve been fussy all day, haven’t you? What’s wrong?”

Your arms wrap around his neck, face tucked tightly into his shoulder as you choke on another sob. Bunny tucked between your chests.

His thumb is gentle as it brushes over the top of your thighs.

“Tell me what happened” he rests his cheek against the top of your head, mean little smile pulling at his cheeks as your sobs fizzle to little hiccups.

“Work” you whisper, fingers threading into his hair, tugging rhythmically as you mouth at his neck.

“What happened at work?”

You whine, pushing your body flush against Namjoon’s. His hands wander, grabbing your ass as you rock forwards; bare pussy brushing over his pyjama pants.

“There’s a— there’s a new guy” your hips falter and Namjoon holds in a groan as your weight settles right over his cock.

Namjoon hums, “What about him?”

“He—“ a breathy moan drips off your tongue as his fingers dig into the meat of your ass.

“He what, darling? I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong” he murmurs, fingers mean as he tugs your face away from his neck by the back of your hair.

Your mouth falls open, and Namjoon watches your eyes glaze over, though this time it’s not tears; and he wonders if you can see how ruined you look in the reflection of his glasses.

“Tell me” your thighs clenching at his tone.

You whimper, “He said a bad word, can’t say it”

Namjoon’s head tips backwards, “Go ahead and say it, baby. I won’t get mad”

“Promise?”

He smiles, endeared “Promise”

“He asked me on a date” your fingers grasp onto the neckline of his shirt, and your boyfriend hums, “I said no, because I have a boyfriend”

“And?”

He watches as your bottom lip quivers, breath hitching in your throat. “Said you didn’t need to know, could be a quick fuck in the back room”

Namjoon’s jaw ticks, “What’s his name?” his fingers skim over your jaw, your hips jutting forward. “Name, darling”

“Jimin” you breathe, “Told Nana, and she said she’d talk to him”

“Yeah?” Namjoon hums, “I’ll sort him out, okay?”

“Okay” you nod.

“Well done for telling me, darling” he smiles, an attempt to ease any lingering anxiety you had. The last thing he wanted was for you to hate work when you enjoyed it so much.

Your hips rut forwards, Namjoon pulling your nightdress up around your hips, watching as your bare cunt drags over his slowly hardening cock.

You lean forwards, lips brushing over Namjoon’s jaw as his hands guide your hips. You moan as the head of his cock brushes over your clit.

“Feel good, darling?” Namjoon’s breathing is heavy, one of his arms tucking under your thighs as he hoists you further up his chest, his free hand tugging his pants down.

Your hand travels between your bodies, tips of your fingers brushing over Namjoon’s slit, precum oozing out the tip as your hand runs down his length.

“Up you get” he helps you, head of his cock running through your slit as you roll your hips forwards.

You bite down on your bottom lip, watery whines bubbling up your throat with each nudge of your boyfriend’s cock running over your clit. Arousal seeps past your folds down Namjoon’s length.

You hold his cock against your cunt, Namjoon’s fingers digging into your hips, sure to leave bruises, but you didn’t seem to care all that much as your hips roll forward.

“Inside Joonie” you whine, tongue laving over the skin of his neck.

Namjoon takes a hold of the base of his cock, and you use his shoulders as leverage, chair wobbling under your joint weight as you line up his cockhead with your hole.

Your fingers run through your folds, wetness soaking your fingers as you circle your clit gently, Namjoon helping you as the tip of his cock brushes over your hole. And you let out an involuntary whine as the stimulation.

Your arms wrap around Namjoon’s neck, head of his cock splitting you open as you ease yourself down an inch before you’re pulling off slowly.

“Your pretty little pussy is so small” Namjoon groans. Flared cockhead pulling your pussy taught as you try and ease down lower.

You breath gets stuck in your throat, Namjoon’s fingers gently thumbing at your clit as you clench around his length. Slowly starting to stuff each agonizing inch into your cunt.

You whine as you reach the hilt, hips rutting forward messily. You moan at the lick of please that wracks through your body with each slow drag of Namjoon’s thick cock against your walls.

Namjoon pulls your face away from hiding by the back of your neck, tugging you until your lips mould into one, tongue pushed into your mouth, fresh minty toothpaste coating his tastebuds.

You start to bounce in his lap, childish impatience starting to take over as you chase after an orgasm. Always a little greedy when it came to your own pleasure, using Namjoon to get yourself off before you ever allow him to chase his own release.

“That’s it” he moans, unabashed in his arousal.

Namjoon uses his legs as an anchor, holding the two of you in place, ensuring the chair doesn’t tip over as the back of your thighs slap against the top of his own.

You moan as his thumb continues to brush over your clit, a ring of your arousal gathered at the base of his cock with each jittery raise of your hips.

“Doing so well for me” Namjoon groans, “Always such a good girl, yeah?”

“Mhmm” you nod, bunny tumbling to the floor. Long forgotten as you feel the precipice of your pleasure slowly boiling away in your stomach.

“Gonna cum for me?”

Your thighs shake at that, deep groan of pleasure shooting straight to your cunt as you continue to ride Namjoon like it were the last time.

“Go on, cum for me”

Namjoon’s hands find themselves perched under your ass, aiding you as your legs start to grow tired. Muscles in his arms bulging as he drags you up and down his length.

“So small, could use you as my own little fleshlight. You’d like that wouldn’t you?” he groans, mirth swimming in his eyes.

Meanly, Namjoon pinches your clit and that’s all it takes for searing hot pleasure to wash over your body, thighs shaking at your release.

You hiccup another sob at the burning arousal as Namjoon continues to ram his cock back up inside you, thick rivulets of your slick coating his balls as he chases his own release.

“Too much” you cry, hands wrapping around his wrists as his fingers dig into your hips.

“I’m close, hold on for me” Namjoon’s head tips back.

Namjoon can feel your pussy as it pulsates around his length; you let out something akin to a squeak as you feel his cock twitch.

Mouth falling open in a silent moan as his warm cum paints your insides white.

You raise up on shaky legs, tip of his cock left nestled between your walls before you’re falling back down on his length; cum pushed deep inside of you.

“Oh my baby” he coos, fingers gentle as they brush through your hair, “Sleepy?”

You nod, words fizzling out on your tongue as you yawn.

Your cunt continues to clench around his cock, even as you fall asleep on his chest.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

The bell above the door is obnoxious in announcing Namjoon’s arrival.

‘Pages of Love’ the little bookshop you worked at.

He would have gotten you to quit the shitty little job by now if it didn’t hold such significance in your relationship. He’d first met you here, had dates here, and it made you so happy that Namjoon couldn’t bare to see the sad pout that would be sure to form if he ever suggested you left this place behind.

“Namjoon” the old woman behind the counter smiles, waving him over. “I’m sure you’re aware but it’s y/n’s day off”

“Actually, Nana, I’m here for something else” he smiles, expression saddened and the old woman frowns.

“Anything” she nods.

“It’s about Jimin. He doesn’t happen to be working today, does he?”

“He’s on break right now.” She tuts, “Is this about what he said to y/n. I’ve already warned him about it”

“She came home upset” he shakes his head and Nana sighs.

“Poor girl. She’s lucky to have you, Namjoon”

“Thank you” his smile is genuine, though it drops the moment he steps out the door.

And he waits, waits weeks before he decided what he wants to do with the lowly piece of shit that dared suggest you cheat on him.

Waited weeks as he wrote down every sick little fantasy he had about the ways he’d maul his body. Shredding limbs, gutting him alive. Maybe he’d decapitate him and then send his head to his mother, or chop his filthy dick off and make him watch as he fed it to whatever animal is willing to chew on nearly nothing.

Written fantasies weren’t enough. Namjoon’s fingers always itching, always eager to finally wrap around the boy’s lithe throat and make him beg for mercy until his face is red and pride oozing out of his body with his fear.

“I’m gonna be home late tonight, little one” Namjoon tucks your hair behind your ear, gentle smile rivaling your frown.

“Why?” you ask, blinking up at him through your lashes.

“I have a small job I need to take care of”

“Can I help?”

“Nope” he leans down, soft feathery kiss pressed to you cheek before he’s pulling back, standing at full height.

You look up at him, “You can’t go”

“And why not?” he challenges.

“Because” your defense weak and truly Namjoon wishes he could stay.

“I charged your ipad this morning” and your eyes light up.

“Be quick, okay?” you push yourself up on your tippy toes, hands cupping his cheeks as you press a kiss to his lips.

“Promise” he smiles, “Now be a good girl, and don’t cause any trouble”

“I won’t” you wave him off.

✯¸.•´*¨`*•✿ ✿•*`¨*`•.¸✯

Namjoon isn’t exactly sure what he expects to see when he finally gets home, a quick detour to Seokjin’s house to wash off Jimin’s blood and a change of clothes taking longer than he’d anticipated when his friend had insisted on making them both tea.

He can’t help the groan that bubbles up his throat at the sight of you. Skirt flipped up with three fingers, knuckle deep inside your pretty little pussy as you play a colour by number game on your ipad.

“Fucking hell, darling” he kicks his shoes off, jacket long forgotten on the floor as he crouches down in front of you.

You pull your slick covered fingers out of your cunt, gently circling your clit as you blink down at him.

“Couldn’t wait until I got home?”

“I got bored” you whine, legs falling open wider and Namjoon takes that as his invitation to run his thumb through your slit.

His hands hold your thighs in place as he leans down to press a kiss over your clit, tongue slipping from between his lips to lick over the bundle of nerves.

You hips stutter as his tongue drags across your folds, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt at the unexpected nudge of his tongue against you hole.

Your fingers tangle into your boyfriend’s hair as he sucks over your clit, fingers teasing your entrance before he’s pushing two fingers inside of you.

“How pretty” he coos, accompanied by a wet squelch. “The prettiest little pussy, it’s a wonder how you fit anything inside of you”

You squirm, finger stuffed into your mouth as you try and hold back an embarrassed moan.

“Not little” you whine, hips chasing Namjoon’s fingers each time he pulls out.

“Oh, but you are” your thighs twitch as his warm breath brushes over your sensitive clit, hours of mindless toying with your cunt bringing you to the brink of an orgasm.

Namjoon kisses over your mound, kisses over your clit, and then kisses over his fingers as they curl up inside of you.

He can’t help the smile that pulls at his cheeks at the guttural moan you let out when he finds that particular spot inside of you.

“Cum for me, darling” his voice breathless, as he starts to scissor his fingers.

All it takes is one mean little nip to your clit and you’re tipping over the edge; legs shaking as they clamp around your boyfriend’s head.

His tongue continues to flick over your clit, fingers nestled deep within your walls as he helps you ride out your high.

“Enough” you whimper, tugging his head away from between your legs.

You squirm at the glossy sheen that covers Namjoon’s chin when he finally pulls away from your pussy.

“Well done” his hands run up and down your trembling thighs, “Think you can take a little more?”

Your eyes flicker down to his cock, heavy in his pants and you nod; tongue wetting your lips.

“My good girl”

Namjoon pulls you to lay across the length of the couch, fingers tugging your blouse over your head as you shuck off your skirt.

You tug messily at the back of your bra, and Namjoon smiles, bending down to help you.

He groans, taking one of your nipples into his mouth as he palms himself through his slacks.

“God, you’re so pretty”

Your squeak when he bites the plush skin, trail of kisses searing as he reaches your neck.

Your hands fumble with his pants, waistband pulled taught as your try and slip your fingers into his underwear.

“Always so impatient, aren’t you?” he coos, “here let me help you”

You pout at the loss of warmth, the loss of his large body completely covering your own; hands grabbing for neck when he sits up on his knees.

Your hips rock upwards, silently begging for any sort of stimulation as you watch Namjoon’s cock spring free, slapping against his stomach.

Your pussy gushes another wave of slick at the sight of your boyfriend with his hand wrapped around his cock, his hands always had been big; swallowing the girth of his cock when your fingers barely wrapped around it.

You can feel the phantom ache in your jaw, countless times he’d shoved his dick into your mouth, splitting it open like he would your cunt with absolutely no mercy.

“You’re staring” though there’s no embarrassment in his tone, eyebrow lifted cocky and lazy smile tugging at your lips.

“Inside, please” you whine, legs falling open enough for him to slot in place.

“Of course, sweetheart”

Your legs tremble in anticipation, eyes squeezing shut as he runs the head through the slit; slicking up his length before he’s pushing at your entrance.

“You sure you can fit me?” you can hear the laugh in his voice, retort on the tip of your tongue only he chooses that moment to nudge the tip of his cock over your clit.

“Joonie” you complain, “please, need you”

And Namjoon watches, lets you, grab onto his length, watching as you rut your hips down until he’s popping inside of you.

Your walls constrict around him, and he’s absolutely fascinated by how such a small pussy is even able to stretch around him.

“Good girl” and he can’t help the moan that follows.

He’s barely thrusting, gentle roll of his hips feeding each inch of his cock into your wet cunt.

You moan like he was ramming into you, always so sensitive, always so responsive to his touch.

“Feel good?” he asks when he finally bottoms out, thighs connected and heartbeats in sync. It’s moments like these Namjoon revels being alive, being one with you. Truly the closest you’ll ever be to one another; and he thinks he finally feels complete when lodged between your sodden walls.

“So deep” you whisper, fingers skimming over your stomach.

Namjoon pulls your legs over his shoulders, bending forwards until you’re almost folded in half.

Your moan is breathless when he gently pulls out, only to snap his hips back into you.

Your hands grasp onto the pillows of the couch as Namjoon picks up his pace, your tits bouncing, and cunt squelching with every brutal thrust into you.

“Fucking hell, you are tiny” Namjoon groans, and you whimper as his hand presses down on your lower stomach.

You dare take a look, hiccup of a moan ripped from your throat as you see it. An outline of his cock right bellow your belly button, head nudging the taught skin with each thrust into you, only for it to disappear as he pulls out.

Your fingers splay over it, cunt convulsing around his length as your feel him move under your skin.

You feel it rising, pussy swollen and worn from your previous orgasm. Namjoon seems to know, he always knows when you’re slowly climbing to the peak of high.

His fingers find clit, tight little circles sending jolts of pure, blissful pleasure through your body, another wave of arousal seeping out your cunt to soak his cock.

“Gonna cum for me?” he moans between eat thrust, “Be a good girl and cum for me”

The cry you let out is near pornographic, knees knocking against the side of Namjoon’s head as he continues to flick at your clit. Pleasure numbing that when you finally reach your high, your mind blanks, a blanket of fluff consuming you as Namjoon continues to jackhammer into your used cunt.

“Doing so well for me. So close. I’m so close” he groans, fingers finally pulling off your clit as your thighs continue to shake.

When you come to, Namjoon’s thrusts are a sloppy, thrusts barely coordinated as he ruts into you.

And your breath hitches at the final twitch of his cock, he pushes as far into you as he can before he’s cumming.

Thick waves of cum filling you up. He groans as you clench around him, walls still spasming from your own release. And he gently rocks into you, an attempt to push his cum as deep into your soiled cunt as possible.

“You did so well, darling” he swallows thickly, back of his hand wiping the sheen of sweat from his forehead.

You whine as he begins to pull out, mixture of both your releases dribbling out of your hole.

Your thighs twitch when Namjoon parts your lips, hole clenching around nothing as you push another wave of his cum out of your pussy. His fingers scoop it up, circling your entrance before he’s pushing them back between your walls.

“What do you think about a bath?” he hums, watching your eyes fall droopy.

You nod, hands blindly grabbing for your boyfriend to pick you up.

He smiles down at you, arms slipping beneath your body to pick you up as he wanders further into the house.

You wriggle around when he flips the light on, eyes stinging a little at the sudden burst of brightness.

“Alright missy” he sits you on the toilet, and you lean your head against his hip as pee, bones too floppy to even think of holding yourself up.

You remain sat on the toilet as he runs a bath, fussy when he picks you up again though it’s easily soothed with a gentle kiss to your lips.

He thinks you fall asleep as he washes your back, gentle as his soapy hands grope your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples and you squirm at that.

Namjoon is endeared when the two of you finally get out the bath, skin soft and sweet smelling, perfect for kisses. And he can’t help the laugh that bubbles up his throat when you kick your pyjamas away, refusing to put them on yourself when his hands were fully capable.

“Oh my little princess” he kisses both your cheeks, “How about some cake for being such a good girl?”

You see, Namjoon had always been a little bit of a liar. Had told so many lies that truly he didn’t know the what was real and what was not anymore. And if he didn’t know then you never would either.

Every little lie he’d told you from the start, every white lie, every left out detail of his life suddenly seemed insignificant when you were tucked under his chin, sleeping so peacefully, a true sleeping beauty.

And maybe he didn’t really like the classics. Maybe his real love of novels were romances, because he’d always be the prince and you’d always be his princess. A perfect fairytale that would always have a happy ending.

Because if anyone dared scribble out the pages, change his plot, then he would simply erase their existence, and the readers of his life would never know the difference.

You belonged to him. You are his as much as he is yours.

Your life his only reason. Your happiness that little spark of good that still resides inside him. And as long as you come home every day with that same pretty little smile on your face, then Namjoon feels no guilt for the countless people that lay dead, long forgotten by the world as they rest six feet under for daring bring you sadness. Because he’d erased them, with no way to wiggle their way back into the story of his life.

Because what was a prince if he couldn’t take care of a villain that would disturb his perfect fairytale ending?

#bts fanfic #bts fluff #bts smut #bts angst #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #namjoon imagine #namjoon fluff #bts x reader #bts imagines #namjoon smut #namjoon angst #namjoon fanfic #bts requests #namjoon x y/n #bts yandere #yandere namjoon

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hollyhomburg · 7 months

Text

Before I Leave You (Pt.60)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Life changes come in many many forms; courting gifts, leaving jobs, and...Murder

Tags: Slow burn getting warmer, Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, Trans! Tae, Transphobia, gender thoughts, workplace discrimination, flashbacks, murder, the word 'r*pe' is used to describe what Geumjae did to her but there are no graphic depictions of it, allusions to physical abuse, graphic violence, there is a brief moment where someone not in the pack touches the m/c's ass without her consent, blood, briefly implied suicidal actions- but it's nothing like what you haven't seen before.

W/c: 12.6k

A/n: i'll be attending my cousin's wedding at the time this is posted so! give me lots of love when you read it cuz i'm so nervous~ i've never been around so many fancy people before <3

Previous part ~ Masterlist

You dab at the skin under your eyes carefully. You know they must look red and puffy. Tae’s careful instruction to treat your skin well as all good baby pups should has somehow stuck.

Even here. Even now.

“Do people like always loose it with you? Like when they walk in, do they all cry?”

Your therapist (yes, your therapist) across the narrow room is the opposite of threatening; soft face, pulled back hair, neutral clothing that might just as well be out of a country living catalog.

You don’t know where Jin found her, what little medical booklet he perused like a take-out menu, or how much her services cost per hour. Those kinds of details were not for delicate little pups like yourself to worry over in his opinion.

Most of the time, you're glad not to have to worry about things like this. But right now you're chomping at the bit. Weighting your odds. The other unknowns hover before you. One sticks out. One you're most concerned about.

Is she trustworthy?

Nothing about Dr. Rima seems outwardly threatening, yet you curl in on yourself. She smiles, scrawling something on the top of her notepad before she answers, and something taught in you ticks tighter.

“You’re correct in assuming that most people I meet cry in the first few minutes when they meet me, but you are the first person to cry on my threshold. Most of the time people wait until they’re at least in the chair.”

That has a smile tugging at your lips, albeit unwillingly. Your smile is like a leashed wild animal, with too many teeth when you feel threatened. Contained for now.

If you got up and walked out right now, would she call someone to restrain you? Will you be committed if you tell the truth? Or are you just misinterpreting the stakes?

You are here of your own volition. Even if it was a condition that Jin and Namjoon weren't willing to budge on after the events of last week. It's not like the pack is having you put in a mental institution or something, although they did come with you today. For moral support.

The waiting room was stuffy and yellow, one of those little waterfall mirrors in the corner that you’d watched in a fog sat between Yoongi and Jimin while Jin filled out the necessary paperwork. His pen hovering over the small boxes every few seconds. He'd taken the afternoon off of work to make sure he was there, just to fill out paperwork.

Are you on any medications? Do you have a history with substance abuse disorders? Do you have any intent to harm yourself or others?

Sending glares to anyone who dared to come too close, Jimin had looked and smelled threatening. You're not sure he’d have let you go into an isolated location with her if she’d been an alpha. Jin too had looked close to snapping.

yoongi was the only one who looked somewhat calm, althoug his hand was tightly laced with yours (and a little sweaty)

It’s a wonder that the rest of your pack had agreed to stay home for this. This was just one of several concessions you’d made after what the pack has politely begun referring to as 'sad pup time' during your more vulnerable moments, and blatantly 'your breakdown' during less fragile ones.

But sweet words or not. The facts remain; You are here in this chair after a nearly tearful departure.

You’d met the therapist in the doorway, shaking in your boots, and upon being separated from your pack with the promise that they’d be just downstairs in the lobby, you’d followed her inside.

Yoongi had made a noise in his throat, making you turn back. Dr.Rima turned to watch as he’d pulled you in for a last-minute hug, ducking down to your level. “One hour, okay? We’ll be just downstairs. Text me if you need me.”

His eyes were heavy-looking at the stranger. Unwilling to let you go just yet. A little stalwart, a little standoffish.

“Take good care of her please. She’s very precious to us.”

Precious.

That much was evident by the nearly three-page document that both your pack alpha and omega sent through once Namjoon and Jin had selected Dr. Rima as your therapist. Dr. Rima has quite a bit of experience dealing with overprotective pack alphas and pack omegas. Let alone a pack alpha and pack omega who have such a clinical background.

Yes, you must be well taken care of. At least on paper.

She’s already itching a little, to get her hands on all the others. Packmates and their names are written out, as a part of all intake files. Large packs aren't so common anymore. Her eyes fix on one name; Min Yoongi (beta, mate) unemployed.

The big windows help it feel not so small, on the second floor, the trees block out most of the view of the park below. A small voice that sounds like Hobi whispers that it’s a shame she doesn’t have any plants in here, they'd do so well with all of this natural light.

Your knees clack together a little, moving listlessly, the anxiety in your body begging to be released somewhere.

“I don’t know where to start.”

“Why don’t we start with why you wanted to come in today.”

You avoid her eye contact, looking instead at the tops of the trees, you don’t know why they haven’t changed color yet, all of the trees on your street are half bare already. She has a smooth inoffensive scent, but you’re mated to a beta so you know what to expect when it comes to the relaxing effects, the subtle haze at the edge of your vision. It must come in handy, having the biological upper hand, when it comes to patients in distress.

If therapists are rare, beta therapists must be even rarer.

You can practically hear Jin, “Nothing but the best for my pup.” There is a part of your brain that won’t ever turn off, appraising everything around you. The designer pumps that she wears. The knickknacks on her desks, there are no photos of any packs that she might call her own, just a pink calendar in the corner.

Your breath goes just a little bit rapid, just a little, hitching when you think of it.

“Did Jin tell you anything?”

“He didn’t. Although my secretary did inform me that he filled out the paperwork for you.” The air in the therapist’s office is cold. Cold enough that it has you wrapping your sweater sleeves over your knuckles.

Your cheeks heat “My pack they- get a bit- protective.” Your fingers circle your wrist. You’re glad that Hobi convinced you to take one of his sweatshirts. He'd had a strange look on his face while he zipped it up, and you'd had to worry and wonder about it the whole morning. You'd worried more once he texted, just after he must have gotten to work.

“I have kind of a history of self-destructive behavior and I- I kind fell into bad habits a few days ago and blew up. It was all kind of triggered by this like- thing that happened with me and my other packmate.” It’s surprisingly easy to tell the truth.

You’re a right side better than you have been the last few weeks, now. A little bit more present, less foggy. The doctor just looks at her screen and not at you. What is it with her asking questions that make you not want to lie? Why does it feel like you should anyway?

Dr. Rima reads between the lines, what you're trying to say without saying it. “Is there a possibility of you hurting yourself again?” She clicks at the screen a little rapidly.

“No.”

The truth is you have no idea. It seems best to lie in this situation. But you consider it; one of your packmates making the call that you are too much to handle, that you need more help than they can offer. You imagine what it would be like to be in inpatient care. Grippy socks and group therapy and probably observed mealtimes. Maybe Iv's and feeding tubes if it came to that. Away from the pack and away from Yoongi.

He’s just downstairs, but that feels too far. There was no way that he was going to let you do this alone, you wouldn't be surprised if he never left the waiting room.

It’s just a therapy session. The very thing that you once refused. But now that you're here you might as well heal, you might as well work to stop this endless train of brief highs and endless lows. you'll give it a go, why not? What do you have to lose?

And yet, the texts from Hobi remain unanswered:

Ho-🐝 (9:48): Hey, I’m really proud of you.

Ho-🐝 (9:48): I’m really happy I get to be your packmate. In case you ever worry.

Ho-🐝 (9:49): And your best friend too <3

Ho-🐝 (9:51): Just so you knowwww

The pack has kept you substantially plied with little solutions since your breakdown last week. They haven’t let you rot like usual. They’ve kept your days full of little activities; nothing too extravagant or tiring. Letting you rest when you need to and encouraging you to get outside of your comfort zone when it’s clear you’re giving in.

It comes down to that more often than not; giving in or not giving in.

Not giving in looks like trips back to the beach with Hobi. Like going to the salon with Tae and shopping with Jimin. Or another workout class with Jungkook where you’d spent more of the time lounging on the yoga mat than actually moving your body. But you'd still tenuously agreed to sign up for more classes under the encouragement of Wonho and Jungkook.

And now twice a week, you’ve got a mat to call your own during any classes, in the back, if you decide you want it. Your callender hasn't felt so full in years, it feels strange, to have something to do during the weeks that isn't just scraping the bottom of the barrel and doing house chores. Strange in a good way.

Not all of the pack's solutions aren’t silly but sometimes, silly is a good way to push out the dark.

The morning after your breakdown; you'd watched your pack work, fighting back a flush. Sitting at the kitchen bar stool while Yoongi applied painter’s tape to the floor, not intent on keeping back paint this time, but marking it off for you.

You’re a little bit more determined this morning although your first night without nightmares in a little over a month had kept you in higher spirits. You feel more well-rested than you have in ages.

“You don’t need to- I promise- I’m not going-“ but your requests had fallen on deaf ears. Worry building until Jungkook stood up fast grinning up at you, pupils wide brown pools from getting scented stupid this morning.

(Scented stupid, you'd been scented by the pack too, had struggled a little against it, too shy as Namjoon dragged his throat along yours, squirming until yoongi held you down a little, checking with you each few seconds that you wanted that, that your squirming was really just needing to feel a firm touch, a dominant one.

You will go nowhere until your pack have had their right to you, scenting you up, making your scent gland tender and swollen under their teeths and tongues.

It felt so much better to be made to handle it, each of the pack, even hobi, hovering over you to scent you with their wrists and throats. until you smelled so claimed by them that you couldn't breathe without smelling it- Pack.

Jungkook had pouted until he'd gotten the same treatment, although the omegaspace haze had lasted longer on him than it had on you.

He stands up so fast that his hair fluffs. Catching himself on your leg with a giggle before he topples over. grinning up at you before pressing a sleepy sloppy kiss to your knee and then another to your lips,

“No pup zone!" Omega Space Jungkook can get a little bit ridiculous even at the best of times. He's got a case of the morning omegaspace zoomies as he giggles and nips at your nose. You playfully push at his chest. He doesn't budge.

"Your whole face is a no-pup zone." The dissatisfied pur-chirp he'd let out had sounded half hurt, half encouraged.

Namjoon had eased your discomfort. Pulling you from the stool to lean back against his chest, fingers drumming out a rhythm on your legs as Jungkook huffes into your throat.

Having this failsafe- this rule, does not mean that they think you’re going to fail, these are guard rails to keep you on track. Namjoon looks down at you, his full bottom lip tucked a little, not a pout but close. “This is the easiest solution, if you don’t go near it then maybe, maybe it helps.”

His fingers drum against your skin again, and you lean back into him. Uneasy but willing to let him soothe you.

So yes, you’ve been banned from the kitchen, banned from crossing that line that runs from the edge of the coffee stand and just in front of Tae's library room, to the island and over to the fridge. Unless there is someone else close by. You are not allowed here without supervision.

It’s a simple solution, limiting you from the place that you use to hurt yourself. Never mind the fact that there are dozens if not hundreds of other possible avenues you could use. Your creativity knows no bounds when it comes to pain, but you quiet that part of yourself when the desire for hurt gets loud.

You can’t say it hasn’t helped. But then again, the pack has kept you so busy since your breakdown that you haven't had any time to think of hurting yourself let alone put any plans into action.

Across from you, Dr. Rima waits expectantly.

"It was kind of triggered by this thing that happened."

The tip of her pen bobs a little as she writes. “Could you describe the event to me? Or is that something you're not ready to talk about?" You nod and she waits patiently. It takes you a breath to answer.

“A little less than a month ago one of my packmates and I found a dead body."

You feel a little vindicated at her inhale of breath. Wide eyes that say yes- that is something traumatic, yes, it's fair that it kinda triggered you into a more fragile state.

"It dredged up a lot of feelings about my past. Before that, I was kind of starting to feel s-safe which I haven't like, ever been able to feel."

“And your packmate?"

There is new treacherous wetness balancing on your waterline. “Hobi’s a lot stronger than me, his past and mine are really similar but he just- handles his better. A lot of the time it feels like I learn from him even though he’d tell you the opposite is true. He’s my best friend." Your voice goes quiet, "I love my mate more than I love anyone else, but sometimes- Hobi just- gets me you know?" You go a little misty-eyed. Hands tightening on Hobi's sweatshirt.

“Yet he’s not the one sitting in my chair right now.”

You close your eyes, "he's not."

“For what it’s worth- you can have more than one best friend.” Dr. Rima writes as quickly as she can, taking it down. “How long have you been romantically involved with him? Who came first, your mate or him?”

You jolt forward, “Oh no- we’re not- Hobi and I aren't-" You take a deep breath to clarify. "Everyone else in the pack is together but Hobi and I are just friends. We all have our like… little units?”

"Primary partners." Dr. Rima offers.

"Yeah, that." But even that doesn't really cover it, because while Jin and Namjoon are JinandNamjoon and Jimin and Tae are JiminandTae. Jungkook is everyone's problem (in the best of ways) and you and Tae are something else too. The pack's girls the rest of them would say.

(You and Hobi are, well, YouandHobi.)

It sounds weird to say it once it comes out of your mouth. It makes an odd choked feeling lodge in your throat. Too much hope and too much shame for hoping blooming in your chest.

“I don’t know if I want to talk about him.”

She folds her hands over her knees, setting her pen down. Dr. Rima has chubby hands, disproportionate to her body. They look like they'd be soft.

She reminds you of your mom a little bit.

“That’s okay, we can talk about whatever you want. What you want and need is going to be the focus of our sessions. You’re the pilot here. I’m just here to help you interpret your thoughts and feelings.”

She folds her hands over themselves, setting her pen aside, “Why don’t we talk about the last time you remember feeling safe.”

"Physically or mentally?"

"Either, you can choose."

The rest of the session passes frightfully quickly. You can’t say that you don’t cry again. When you finally talk about Geumjae, her smile quickly dissipates. You talk and talk and talk until your throat is raw. Until you’ve depleted the whole box of her tissues. She shows you she's got more hidden under her desk when you apologize, her secret stash gets a laugh out of you.

“The fact that your pack omega filled out your paperwork isn’t the most unusual, but his preference for daily meetings or every other day is a little bit on the nose for a pack omega, I’m wondering if you share his preference.”

“He’s just overprotective.” She eyes you like Jin has good reason to be. You don’t blush this time, a little more comfortable with Dr. Rima than you were at the beginning of this. “I think maybe more than once a week but not every day.”

“How does Monday- Friday sound?”

~-~

When you walk to the door with Dr. Rima Yoongi stands abruptly from his chair.

You can tell by the shiny edge to his to his scent that he doesn't want to stay here any longer than necessary. He gets the information about your next appointment and then tugs you out the door.

Jins got his legs crossed, fancy leather shoes glinting in the sunlight by the windows. The lobby is buzzing with people coming and going. This building isn't just a therapy office but a collection of other businesses with a few shops and restaurants on the ground floor as well. He looks up and double-takes when he spots you, not standing from his chair, but he opens his arms and you fold yourself along his side, conscious of the other eyes but this.

This you need.

You press your face along the column of Jin's neck, breathing his cream scent in deep.

“Oh pup.”

Your red-rimmed eyes are too obvious and you sniffle wetly, “It was okay, I like Dr. Rima.” He laces your hands together and resists the urge to pester you with questions. Yoongi's hand is still tangled in the hood of your (Hobi's) sweatshirt. Your therapy sessions should be yours and only yours. Yoongi and Jin do not have Dr. patient confidentiality.

And yet the need to know if that helped burns through them. They won't have to wonder for long.

By the coffee stand, Jimin waves and he returns to you when the barista hands over a bag of sweets and a quad of cups. Jin continues scrawling something out for another second before he’s standing and pulling you in for another chaste scent mark.

“Let’s go home.” It's somewhere between an order and a request. But no one disobeys.

On the drive back (37 minutes total) you're a little quiet. You let the sounds of the others be your buffer. You look down at your phone and stare at Hobi’s texts. You respond with just a little heart emoji when you finally still can’t figure out a good response and you're close to home.

Home is its usual conflagration of moving bits and pieces. Each of your packmates is like a shiny cog in a pretty clock, tick tick tick tocking along. Tae and Namjoon are at the table looking through some of the pack’s bills, the pastries and coffee cups litter the table with little piles of powdered sugar and cinnamon. jimin bought enough for the whole pack.

You look at them a little too long, although not because you don't want to eat them. It’s been a while, a few weeks since you’ve made something like that, but every single one of the pastries is something you know how to make. You don’t know why you keep looking at them.

Tae smiles at you, still in the doorway. and it makes you feel a little less like you want to burst into tears. Her voice speaks of the quiet time you have in the library (the tenderness of having someone else do your makeup, another person combing your hair). You hope you'll get some dedicated one-on-one time with her soon.

"Hey little lovely, How was it?"

"She put me through the wringer but I think she got some suds out."

She and Namjoon giggle and you smile small. and you can tell that Namjoon wants to ask you more but he doesn't after a pointed look from your mate. There are footsteps in the hall and before you can move to take off your shoes Hobi is standing in the archway.

Yoongi efficiently strips you of Hobi's sweatshirt with a frustrated huff. It's Kind of like he’s trying to peel away the sadness (your clothes are soaked with your sour scent, rainy and unhappy. Regardless of Jin’s scent mark, you kind of stink).

You might have overheard their words just before you got into the car. Jin's hissed admonishment. “A lot of people cry during therapy Minnie, she’s not in trouble, can’t you smell it?”

Your scent is mellow underneath the memory of your distress, going sweeter by the second. Yoongi wants all memories of your sad scent banished from the house. Hobi stands at the door to the hallway, shifting back and forth, his eyes a little warmer than usual, hands shaking a little bit.

You’ve caught him looking at you a lot since the night he ran away, in the quiet moments when he thinks you’re not noticing. Eyes a shade warmer than usual, a sweetened franticness to his scent. Nervousness and happiness mix like blueberries and whipped cream.

When he pulls up beside you during movie nights and sits thigh to thigh with you. When his hands intertwine with yours over his knee or sometimes or when he pulls your legs sideways across his lap. He looks at you like that when he's doing the small things and he's looking at you like that right now.

You know how love starts, that it starts with the small things.

Hobi resists the urge to open his arms. would you come to him? Would you fold your body along his front so that he could feel your heartbeat? Pressing again and again to the opposite side of his chest with every thump?

He doesn’t say hey, but he does step a little closer. Fingers reaching out. The pad of his index finger slides down the meat of your pinky till it reaches the ball of your wrist. His own special hello.

Your breath hitches, just barely, almost imperceptible if it wasn’t for how close he stands.

A look behind you says Yoongi hasn’t made himself scarce, instead fussing with the pack's coats. Now that it’s getting colder, they don’t all fit by the door. You look behind Hobi and find Namjoon watching the three of you, he raises a singular eyebrow.

“How was it? Bad?” Hobi asks, breaking the silence and the tension, drawing your attention back to him. The next breath you let out is a lot less heavy, and your eyelashes flutter as he steps closer. Hobi smells good, a little earthy, mellowing out his usual sweetness. Sweet for an alpha.

“It was kind of hard, I kinda wanted to run away for a bit at the beginning." You can't keep meeting his eyes with how intensely he's looking at you and they flutter down to his hands. "I almost did.”

"I'm glad you didn't pup." Jin comments, full of reproach, the mirror to you and Hobi as he leans down to press a kiss to Namjoon's forehead. Shucking off his lapelled jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his button-down shirt.

“If you’d have called me, I’d have picked you up. We could still like- run away, if you're down.”

But the house is starting to heat up, and Jin and Yoongi are starting to cook. The light is still honey-yellow happy. And you tip your cheek into his arm. He finally- finally lets his arms settle around your waist.

“Nah, not yet.” You drag out the syllable all playful, and something forbidden stirs in Hobi’s gut. “Jin’s making my favorite tonight. not until later?”

Hobi goes silent, pulls back, biting his lips, eyes flickering from your eyes down. and-

You laugh and Hobi blushes. “Just spit it out.”

Everyone’s been a little bit touchier with you since that night (a little more overbearing too). You won’t immediately chalk Hobi's touchyness up to what you're all thinking. But the affection makes your scent gland feel tender. Zinging when Yoongi steps up behind you and nuzzles into it, huffing again.

Friends can hug each other after therapy right? Hobi swallows thickly and you feel it against your collar bone as he pulls back and steps away from you. “I ugh- got you a present?”

You brighten up instantly, and Hobi's anxiety increases tenfold. A bit of casual mischievousness on the edge of your lips that always have Hobi feeling like he’s being teased even though he knows he isn’t.

“Oh? A present? You’ve never gotten me a present before!”

He kicks at imaginary dust bunnies, fighting back what he knows is a noticeable flush. “I ugh- still owe you, from the car you know and honestly it's not even like a big gift it's like- so small in comparison and-”

Yoongi huffs and continues to disrobe you. Pulling your sweater over your head when he’s not satisfied that your unhappy scent has dissipated. Muttering something like. “hopeless alpha” under his breath. Your tank top pulls up, inches of your hip and skin on display. It's nothing that Hobi hasn't seen before and yet the blush reignites. The sunshine to your morning glory.

“I guess you're right.” But it doesn’t feel like it. Hobi doesn’t owe you anything for that, not when it was so easy to give. Not when you’ve gotten so many late-night drives from that gift.

Hoseok got the idea for your courting gift, one morning while watching you say goodbye to Namjoon:

The pack alpha has always been a fan of goodbye kisses, good morning, and goodnight kisses too. The particular kiss that morning had ‘I’ll miss you’ written all over it. It was so pretty in the way that you lingered, arms around Namjoon’s neck. His hand is underneath your shirt on the small of your back. Such a small touch and yet so gently possessive that it had Hobi aching to see it.

Hobi is unfortunately prone to jealousy and it turns the back of his neck hot. Makes his hands feel oddly tender. He's distracted by the visual, the task of packing up his work bag forgotten. Hoseok’s shift at the flower shop doesn’t start for another few hours, and he’s waiting, watching, an unhappy voyeur.

You and Namjoon have quite the height difference, if he was in between the two of you he’d be the perfect middle ground. That’s just another stupid thought, another stupid thought in the countless number of stupid thoughts that he’s had. (I like my alphas a little pathetic, and nothing's more pathetic than an alpha pining after an omega.)

He grumbles.

Yoongi prattles on, more awake than all of them as he outlines what you have to do today to make progress on the house- which is to go find a place that sells cheaper tile than the ones you first thought of using in the bathroom on the first floor. And maybe change it up a little.

The bathrooms escaped the renovations somehow, and a few nights ago- Jimin had admitted how much they actually use it even though it’s not the pack's primary bathroom anymore. Now that it’s not in use, they’re more willing to part with it for a few days for some very necessary re-styling. it toes the line from vintage to old a little too hard. The yellow is a little…yellow.

Yoongi wants to go light and airy with the color scheme, like he did with the upstairs bathroom and it's seafoam and brown tones. But like with most of the house, your vote is for colorful. “How about a light blue-” Yoongi continues to argue while you kiss Namjoon a little senseless in the doorway, at least Namjoon seems properly dazed, chasing your lips when you pull apart.

“No- we don’t have a room that’s magenta yet!”

This starts the same argument as always; “We can’t make every room in this house pink for Tae.”

But goodbyes take precedence, and when you turn back and smile at Hobi he flushes, shy to be caught looking. He moves, stepping around you and Namjoon to put his water bottle into his bag when you shout, “Stop, Seokie!”

Seokie is a new nickname, one that Jin only uses in the quietest of moments that you've somehow adopted when you don't want to call him Hobi. Hobi always thought that if you’d use any other nickname with him- you’d use daisy (he might want you and yoongi to share that pet name). But he’s a good pup and stops what he’s doing. Every atom in his body every electron no longer circulates neutrons but circulates you instead. Pulled in by your gravity.

You’ve moved so suddenly that you’ve spilled a bit of your coffee onto the floor. Maybe kissing Namjoon has left you feeling a little dizzy too. Yoongi just sighs fondly and wipes it up. Jimin looks up from his phone, smiling when he sees.

“You’ve got a rainbow on your cheek.”

It’s a trick of the light, early morning sunshine refracted through the mottled window just right to cast a single rainbow on the wall and on Hobi when he steps in front of it.

You cup his cheek, finger skimming across where the rainbow sits.

"Pretty."

Hobi feels hot all over.

At Tae’s call of, “If I have to do my eyeliner one more time I’m going to scream!” You giggle and dart away from him. Going to tend to Tae with a soft reply of "I've got you baby."

Hoseok is left, blushing in the morning light. Staying still like you might come by and cup his cheek again, Like a flower staying still in the hope of pollination.

Hobi is left, wanting to scream and somehow demand you back, both would be fair. His plight isn't missed by his packmates, who lean in like a set of jackals, grinning ear to ear at hobi's flustered predicament.

She's going to send him into rut if she's not careful Jin thinks, but doesn't say. instead he teases, “You’ve got to leave in the next ten-minute Hobi.”

Only then does Hoseok move- released from his spell and finally losing the rainbow on his cheeks though they might as well have stayed with how happy and warm he feels. How absolutely incandescent the love is glowing in his chest. A full spectrum of feelings, longing for you to come back.

He almost trips over noodle, darting after you with his tail raised high, catching himself on the edge of the couch at the last second, one shoe on and one off, his water bottle falling and spilling in the process.

yoongi sighs, and stoops to wipe it up. Jimin giggles and pulls Hobi up by his hips, the alpha's fingers feel hot where they've touched him, scalding. “What’s wrong, omega got your tongue?” yoongi returns to his breakfast, throwing the wad of soggy paper towels into the trash.

Jungkook laughs, “It’s more like he wants an omega to have his tongue in her-“

“You guys are gross,” He pushes at Jimin’s shoulder finally moving right. Yoongi hides his smile in a mouthful of Captain Crunch.

Hobi doesn’t think about the rainbows again until his next afternoon shift. When the low angle of the autumn sun cuts through the windows and catches the suncatchers that they hang in the doorway of the flower shop and cast more rainbows- dozens of them really across him and the flower.

He remembers when you came to visit, how you'd lingered over them, looked at them a second longer than you looked at the plants.

It’s a bit of a kitschy display. Other polished stones and nick nacks sitting on the deep shelf along with some smaller potted plants. A little tray of rose-quartz stones falsely advertises themselves as ‘heat reducers.’

The colors start to blend, and the rainbows sway softly in the light, gentle and pretty. He snaps a photo and thinks about sending it to you, but doesn’t.

The store is blissfully empty of Hobi's coworkers when he selects three of them. It's quiet when he packages them in tissue paper, one with a huge pink stained-glass moon at the top, another with three tiers. Each of them is delicate and pretty in their own right. No one’s bought a single one of them in the last three months anyway. They'll hardly be missed. Hobi gives himself a fat employee discount.

Hobi is unfortunately bad at hiding things, especially when he's nervous. Luckily the pack alpha doesn’t have it in him to tease. Namjoon had in fact been only too encouraging and given him a pep talk just this morning about courting and courting presents.

“The worst that can happen is that she doesn’t like it- and then you just have to try again which you were already planning on doing anyway.” Namjoon is quite simply the best at courting. It doesn't matter which subgender; alphas, beta’s, and omegas have all fallen under his touch. At least Hoseok has the opportunity to learn from a professional. Somehow the thought that you'd compare him to namjoon doesn't cross his mind.

Hoseok isn’t good at the romantic gestures that courting necessitates. He’s more of the ‘there when you need him’ kind of lover. Ready to make the small changes to make his loved ones' lives more manageable. Ready with his car keys for adventures. Those parts are easy, this is out of his depth.

Especially when it comes to you. Even After the love confessions, (are confessions still confessions if they’re so internal?) Hobi feels mostly unmoored. About to shatter upon unknown shores.

God, crushes are so frustrating (in the best kind of way, the way that keeps you sighing and daydreaming, the kind of way that makes you look in the mirror a little longer).

Tae helped him half an hour before she started on the pack's paperwork. They'd spent an hour deciding which places were best to hang them to get the greatest number of rainbows. She had even fussed with his hair a little to make it lie right. Having him hop up on the couch so she could see Hobi's face from your angle.

Hobi wanted to make sure there were at least one or two rainbows when he shows you. But when he leads you to the sunroom, his hands over your eyes (the same position you found yourself in when Namjoon surprised you with the nesting pod) there are more of them than there were when he set them up, whole constellations swaying softly.

The suncatchers are pretty and twinkly sparkly in the golden hour light, and your lips part in a simple show of awe when Hobi tells you you can open your eyes. It's so bright, they send dozens of little rainbows across the walls and your nesting pod. Over the white couch and the fig in the corner.

It’s very very pretty. and when you turn back to look a thim, Hobi once again has a rainbow on his cheek.

Your eyes twinkle, but you don't say anything. you stay quiet for long enough that Hobi gets nervous. his anxiety makes him talk fast. “I hung them here- but you can put them wherever you want- in the kitchen or upstairs or I can get you more for any places you want to put them- or- or- ”

You just about tackle him, arms looping around his neck resting your weight in his arms that instinctively grip around your waist. Hobi teeters, unsteady with such a heavy heart, toppling both of you onto the couch as you cry. "I love it!"

You’re sprawled not lying across him but his hand goes out to support the way you cling and rub your face into his chest, a happy little chirp slipping past your lips.

The wild thing in Hobi’s chest settles, settles, and curls around you. Tight and protective like a vice. You pull back, and your smile is just as bright.

Hobi sags, and rests his neck back against the couch, "Good- thank fucking god- I was so fucking nervous-" You fiddle with the buttons on his flannel, it's one of Yoongi's. It seems fitting that you steal his clothes and he steals Yoongi's.

"What brought all this on?"

Hobi doesn't have a good answer, in the quiet with the rainbows, or at least an answer he's ready for. He doesn't say that this is a courting present, and he doesn't need to because instead of answering your question- he replies with one of his own.

“Wanna go for a drive later?” he asks, voice tremulous like he thinks you might refuse him. You’ve never said no to him before, never said not tonight only not right now. Do you treasure our little talks the same way I do?

“Sure, after dinner? like I said? Just-" You lean back against his chest, and Hobi’s hands go tight tight tight around your waist. Holding you close. Clingy. He does not slip his hand under your shirt to cup the side of your hip the way that Namjoon might, but the thought crosses his mind.

Hobi is a good alpha, he won't cross that line until you tell him it's okay. Until then a thin layer of fabric separates his skin from yours. You're still warm to the couch.

“Sit and watch them with me?” You ask quietly. Almost shy, like you think he’d refuse you. He nods and the two of you sit on the couch to look at the rainbows together.

Eventually, Noodle finds the two of you, meowing and hopping up to stretch out along your thighs. Worming his way between the two of you.

The rainbows don't last forever, but Hobi sits with you until they fade.

~-~

Tae’s library is just like every public library:

Tall windows, wide quiet shelves with room for the stories to breathe. A colorful young adult section and an even more colorful kid’s section. A bit aways from the tables and computers so that any over-excited pups don’t disturb the adults. Big deep beanbags for small children to cuddle up to while they ponder fairy tales and adventures only a plastic-covered book away.

Tae’s long plaid skirt barely makes a whisper along the ground. The colder weather has allowed her to live all of her cottage core fantasies, her dark academia aesthetic truly flourishing. Her shirt is a little translucent today, and the fading summer tan of her skin pokes through it in spots where her tank top doesn't hide. Pretty long earrings dangle and clink in the quiet while she works on her shelving.

Wearing her chosen clothing items at work has been a bit of a work in progress.

Most of Tae’s coworkers approve of her transition in that overly willing-to-be-an-ally way that middle-aged women who generally consider themselves progressive outside of closed doors all do. And the ones that don’t approve have swallowed their words with lingering sour eyes and raised upper lips after the general receptiveness to Tae’s social transition.

It's hard to know who's genuine with it, who just doesn't want to cause a fuss, and who just doesn't give a shit. But most of the time her outfits get one or two compliments and thats it. Tae would rather them say nothing than anything negitive.

Tae likes the quiet of the library at this time of day, the silence gives her enough room to let her imagination wander. Tae likes to file away books in mid-morning, when there are fewer people around and her humming is less likely to disturb any of the library’s patrons. She sings to the stories and they sing back, tempting her with every well-worded title and delicately chaste summary.

But she doesn’t just think about stories or the book she's writing (her book is currently giving her hell on the 30th chapter) No. Today- there is a much more interesting love story blooming in her head, in the pack's den too.

She’s been thinking about you all morning (Tae thinks about you almost every morning) there are even little poems scrawled on the edge of her newspaper. Lines that are you and a bit of Hobi too.

I wished that I might be your hair clip / to know what it feels like / to be pressed against the nape of your neck/ To be your suntan/ perched on the edge/ of what you show everyone and what you show no one/ To be the bearer of every freckle/ like the sky holds the stars/ To hold and never let go/ Like birds hold sunshine / and flowers hold songs.

Everyone had noticed of course, how much time you and Hobi have been spending together.

The pack had even talked about it during a quiet moment without you and Hobi. Yoongi’s lack of communication regarding you and Hobi. “I don’t know anything” he’d unsuccessfully lied, and nearly been heaved up and wrestled to the couch as a result. But Jungkook’s puppy eyes had unsuccessfully endeared him.

Yoongi has kept Hobi's secret, but it's kind of hard not to notice. Tae isn't a fool. Tae is a much better liar than Yoongi is- because when you'd come to her after your late-night drive to gush with her about Hobi and the rainbows over makeup. She hadn't said anything about what she knows.

Tae couldn’t tell you how many times she’d noticed little touches, Hobi’s hand lingering on the small of your back, grabbing your waist when he moved behind you in the bathroom. When he take the greatest care to set out his sweatshirts in the morning and even asks Jungkook to make sure they’re clean. They’re practically not even his sweatshirts anymore with the amount you’ve been wearing them.

Tae isn’t an idiot, she knows that Hobi’s finally realized it. While she doesn’t trust herself to play matchmaker given how poorly the first time she pointed out Hobi’s attraction went. that doesn’t mean she’s not going to park herself firmly on the edge of her fantasy land with a box of popcorn.

If they were gonna get married, would Hobi wear a red tux or black or grey? Her brain is already thinking of wedding dresses. One of these days she’s really going to have to make a Pinterest board. Hobi would probably want to do sunflowers, and that might clash with the red unless it was a fall wedding- ooh, and what about pearl details and daisies? a beach wedding might be a little too on the nose for you.

Tae is so absorbed with her shelving and her daydreaming that she doesn’t notice the sound of small shoes on the carpeted floor. Nor does she notice the light-up flash of tiny iorn man sneakers. Her musings are easily interrupted by a small tug on her skirt, shy almost. She startles a little, looking down at the sudden touch.

The little pup's thumb is wet from where it was clearly placed behind their bucked teeth. He's got wide brown eyes and soft-looking hair, Tae can't stop the smile that comes to her lips.

“I wanted to read a book but I couldn’t reach, can you help me? Please?”

Tae’s heart swells as she leans down to the pup's level. “Of course, I can! Why don’t you show me what one you wanted,” diligently Tae follows the little one a few isles over, tugged along by their insistent pulling as he tells her about the pretty cover.

The little pup turns back, furrowing his bushy brows up at Tae, “are you a princess?” he asks. Tae almost has to laugh, a bright happy gender euphoric feeling filling her chest, that feeling of I could be filling her.

She makes her whisper just a little more hushed, playing along, “Don’t tell anyone okay? It's a secret.” The little pup nods, eyes darting around like there are dragons that would threaten her.

“What gave me away?”

“Princesses wear long skirts!” the pup says cheerfully, like it makes the most sense in the world. He's a little too loud and Tae winces. He finally finds the shelve with the story. The spine glimmers pink and gold and Tae is unsurprised to find the illustrated copy of Cinderella. Not the Disney or PJ version, but the Brothers Grimm version.

Tae cringes at the pair of doves on the cover.

Tae doesn’t say that the little pup is too small to read a book so big, or that there is one with more pictures much more appropriate away from the young adult section. The child can’t be more than 6 years old.

But still, Tae retrieves it and delivers it to their waiting arms. The little one clutches it to his chest, thanks Tae, and then promptly plops themselves onto the carpeted floor right there.

He opens the first page, huffs, and then looks up at her imploringly.

“I just realized I can’t read.”

He pouts and Tae melts. Tae wonders where the pup's mother is, but really, there certainly can't be much harm in this. This isn't the first time Tae has been guilted into reading a story to a pup while their parents work or make use of the library's computers.

"Just the first page.” She intones, caution for the child’s hopes in her voice, she presses her skirt under her knees and sits on the scratchy carpet. The pup curls close to see the pictures. Resting his tiny chubby cheek in the billow of Tae’s big puffy sleeve.

Tae's chest is all tight as she reads. The pup is very well-behaved, he pauses, and asks questions in a soft voice only when Tae gives him space to respond. Tae easily ommits the parts that aren't appropriate. but tae finds herself watching the pup a little bit more as the minutes stretch.

In a few years with your own little ones around, will Tae become the defacto bedtime story reader? Will she do this with the pack's pups one day? Will she be the one to take that bright little light in their eyes that imagines things as greater and more and cultivate it? Her cheeks feel warm at the prospect, heart beating like a hummingbird's wings in excitement.

Your pups and Jin's pups too- they're gonna be so loved. Tae's gonna be the best mom to them, The best alpha too.

One page turns into two and then three. In this quiet corner with only Tae’s voice as ruler and god, the little pup hinges on every word. Until there’s another voice close by. An adult not wishing to be loud, a whispered name.

“Jae?”

Tae smiles up at the woman at the end of the aisle of books. Her smile turns sweeter when Jae hops up and runs to press his face into her jeaned thighs. Tae remembers how that felt, how every scent besides Tae’s own omega mother felt overwhelming and icky.

Tae stands with a crack of her knees and makes to hand over the book, “This makes a great bedtime story until about chapter 8, that one you might want to skip until he’s a little older.”

The woman makes to smile, but it only goes so far. Tae watches in perfect detail, everything in slow motion, as her eyes flicker down to Tae’s Addams apple.

She drags her child close by their wrist quicker than Tae can blink. Tae sees the moment that the child realizes this touch isn’t gentle, wide eyes going fear-stricken as he's tugged behind her back. And then it's all downhill from there.

I'll spare you the more vile bits.

But the saddest moment of the argument that follows (Which involves not one but three of Tae's co-workers to calm down the hysterical woman whose screeches echo around the quiet library) is when the pup tries to get his mother's attention. "Mom, I liked that she was reading to me."

"He" the certified Karen hisses, moving in a way that makes the pup flinch back. "-should know better than to corrupt a pup with such- such-" her eyes dart down and up, and Tae's skin burns. "Disgusting behavior."

The misgendering doesn't even sting. What does hurt is the eyes peering in. She isn't being quiet and it's causing many of the library's patrons' attention is diverted. Tae's coworkers have put themselves between Tae and the woman. But there still aren't enough people (enough packmates) in between her and the verbal tirade.

An hour later, after the woman has left after threatening to call the police, Tae talks with his boss and his boss’s boss. The room behind the front desk is glass, and he knows that the door doesn’t keep the sound of their raised voice out.

“I wasn’t harassing her child; I was just helping him find a book for Christ sake!”

The worst part is that this isn’t the first time that this has happened. No- since Tae came out there have been two other complaints leveled against her from bigoted patrons. Both right at the beginning before she got the hang of presenting how she wanted to.

At least those confrontations weren’t face-to-face. At least those complaints didn’t end with someone threatening to call the police and a pup cowering, tugged along too roughly out the door.

The little pup had glanced back at Tae, mouth in pout, eyes swimming with tears.

Even if the woman felt righteous in her anger, the least she could have done was not yell in front of the pup. Tae promises herself right then and there, that she'll never raise her voice in front of the pack's pups, not in anger.

The book has stayed on the counter at the front. Pink and gold and treacherous. Tae hopes that if anything, the pup finds it and reads the ending one day. Stories have a way of finding us, even when the world makes us let them go.

Now in the back room behind the check-out counter. Tae’s boss levels her with an expectant look, the kind that people give when they don’t want to be transphobic not really- it’s just so hard for them not to, so learned. Tae is the nail that sticks up. It’s bullshit really. Tae can tell it's bullshit before she opens her mouth.

“Really? He asked for Cinderella?”

“Yes.” Tae’s biting tone is an alpha’s tone, not a man’s, and yet she knows how it sounds.

“I find that hard to believe.”

“I’m not lying.” Is Tae supposed to only help some children find the books they want? Is she supposed to look at them and make her best guess if they’ve got homophobic parents and skip them over? It’s not her fault that the sweet sweet pup’s parent was a bigot.

“I can’t help but feel like- you’ve got a personal agenda-“

"Charlie-" the district manager cautions.

Tae can’t stop herself from snapping, alpha anger sparking with the intent to burn. “Little boys should be allowed to read Cinderella if they want to” Rats and all. Her hands are shaking, and it isn’t missed by them. The room smells thick with Tae’s spicy cinnamon anger.

The district manager sets her hand on Tae's shoulder, and her anger ebbs just a little. “I think maybe you should go home a little early today, just to cool off. We can talk about it more tomorrow.”

Tae doesn’t want to go home early, Tae doesn’t want to go home at all as she packs up her books. Her bag lighter than usual, absent of the stories that she wants to take home. For once there aren’t any that she wants to read.

She walks to the train station because Jimin won’t be off work for another 2 hours and that’s when he’d usually pick her up, the last three days he’s gotten her flowers too; white roses the first day, pink the second, and red the third. She sends him a text.

Tae <3 (1:48): I left work early today, you don’t have to pick me up, I’ll get an Uber home.

Mini-alpha (1:49):!!!!!

Mini-alpha (1:49): What happened? Are you sure you don’t want me to pick you up? I can leave now.

Tae sighs, looking down at her phone while she waits for the crosswalk light to come on. Red still, green in a few seconds, she only has to wait. She can practically feel Jimin's nervous energy through the phone. it's a wonder he doesn't immediately call her.

It makes her soft. It isn't in Jimin's nature to give any of his lovers any space but he always makes an effort when it comes to her.

Tae <3 (1:53): No. It’s fine. I’ll talk to you when you get home.

Tae doesn’t want to talk to Jimin about transphobia again. At least not yet. It’s too much energy. It’s not that Tae doesn’t want to make what happened during Namjoon’s rut better. It’s not that she doesn’t want to talk about it- it’s just that there’s nothing to talk about, the explanation of his actions are such a burden for Tae to bear. And Tae trusts that Jimin’s heart is in the right place even if he makes mistakes. And even telling Jimin off, yelling at him, wouldn’t change it.

Either one day Tae will not have to deal with bigoted parents, either one day she’ll pass and won’t have to worry, or she'll always be in this awkward middle ground.

Trans people are like toupees, you only notice them when there’s something off, something a little misplaced about them. Tae fears that most of all. Femininity, as much as she wants it, as much as it's hers to take, what if it won't ever fit right? What if she never passes?

Tae loves her job at the library, it’s the perfect mix of boring and safe and easy even if it doesn’t pay enough. But even as she's gained things like skirts and puffy sleeves, she's exchanged them for days like today. Really, the library was her favorite place before today and now, every step away from it makes her feel a little lighter. She's not even angry anymore, just exhausted mentally.

Tae decides to walk home at least she’s in her most conservative channel flats, they could use a little bit more wear and love and Tae’s thoughts are still too sharp. She dulls them to a palatable edge that all falls apart when she gets home.

You’re there, thank fucking god you’re always there when she gets home. You’ll always be Tae’s comfort person.

Tae opens the door with a creek and push of cold air, you're saying something to Yoongi turning with a toss of your hair, eyes brightening when you see her before you've even said her name.

You look a little healthier today, with a little bit more of a rosy glow to your cheeks and a healthy brightness to your eyes, not all glassy.

"Tae! You're home early!"

Tae will never stop being proud of how hard you try, and will never stop being a bit envious either because Tae-

Tae looks at you and wilts, bag flopping onto the floor, and predictably burst into tears.

"Oh- oh Tae."

"Baby girl-"

You and Yoongi are just about the best security blanket a packmate could ask for. You're so good as you pull her down to your level so you can kiss away her tears, maneuvering her like a perfect team onto the couch. Yoongi's strong hands slide off her shoes. Yoongi's fingers digging into her sore heel as you kiss away her every tear.

A substantial amount of babying and a Sos packmate in distress text later, and Tae is reclining across a freshly fluffed nest, the muscles in her body relaxed. The blisters on the back of her feet are bandaged and kissed. Every inch of her body is too.

You don't talk about it until after the pack's facemasks are finished, and hobi's clear coat has dried over the tiny nail sticker that you left. a small bumblebee.

Your skin smells sweet after a long long bath full of fancy bath bombs. Jinnie had also rubbed oil onto her freshly shaven legs. You helped, dragging it along oh so carefully to not nick her skin. Ending each pass with a kiss to her ankle and then upper thigh.

Tae’s head is in your lap now, cheek pressed against your (slightly chubbier) thighs. Her sniffles the background music as Tae gives her final recap of what happened.

Your nose gets a wrinkle in it when you go cross. "There's so much meanness to the world, I hate how people have to add to it."

Jimin’s anger leaves an undercurrent in the air, dragging the other alphas along, Hobi’s hands are strong where they dig into Tae’s shoulders, belly down in the nest while you play with her hair, braiding it back and forth. The attention makes her feel a little tingly.

“Do you know what her name was? Did you get a look at her car-“ Jimin asks, nearly barking. The library has cameras. Jimin knows it does.

Jin sets a hand on the back of his neck, a scruff threatening. “Down pup. Tae doesn’t need you to track them down.” Jimin’s teeth look particularly sharp in the light. For a face so soft he has quite the mouth on him.

“They made her sad,” he growls, but it's softer, more pointed as he crouches over her.

Namjoon’s quiet voice unlocks the whole world's worries, massaging gently down the column of Tae’s delicate neck, rough hands, worn tender touching her regardless. Namjoon is rarely ever so pointed, but it's logical, from an alpha's perspective, Tae knows what he hints.

"I think that if your bosses aren't going to protect you from people like that, then I want you to leave your job." Jin gives him a look like, 'Now you know where I'm coming from' but Tae's the important packmate right now.

Tae rolls Namjoon's words around her tongue, her hand loosely twined with his. Namjoon has the steadiest hands out of everyone in the pack and a few minutes ago he repurposed his surgery skills to do her nails. Took off the chipped red and re-did them because Namjoon knows she feels best when her claws are polished. He checks them now. Tapping them lightly to not smudge them.

It's a girl's night, the first girl's night you've ever had with the whole pack. Tae's face is still glossy from the face mask.

“I don’t think I want to quit; I don’t think that would help at all that’s not going to like- solve the world and all its issues.”

“No, but- if it’s making you more sad than happy. Then maybe it’s worth considering.”

Tae knows Namjoon’s not saying that she doesn’t make enough to affect the pack's finances, but that's still the truth. Hobi pulls himself along her other side and you watch him with heavy-lidded eyes.

Hobi presses a kiss to Tae's temple, “All you want to do is write every day anyways, and we just want you to be happy,” 6 heads nod their agreement.

Hobi isn't wrong; The last four weekends in a row Tae has woken up several hours earlier than the pack would usually stir from morning cuddles, just to get a few hours of uninterrupted writing done. She’s also spent nearly every night in her library room, staying up late after the pack has retired upstairs until one of you comes down and wrangles her upstairs. The pack's prettiest alpha needs her beauty sleep.

But is it enough to count on? Is it worth quitting her job over?

You duck down low, kissing the same spot Hobi did, your lips touching just a Tae away. a heavy breath wooshes out of her chest. "Yeah why wouldn't we want you to quit? If you're always here then I can always do this."

Your kiss is gentle, and it tastes like belonging more than Tae would ever be able to write, to describe. A love that makes you feel like you belong is a rare thing. And Tae's hand goes up to tangle in your hair, keeping you there for just a shared breath longer.

The next breath tastes a bit like freedom. It's scary to be free.

(But Tae leaves her 2 weeks' notice on her boss’s desk before the end of the next work day, and she doesn't feel bad about it one bit).

~-~

(1 year prior)

Maybe the truth is that the reason why you don’t feel you deserve agency is because you know what your agency looks like. The choices you’re willing to make when it comes down to it.

The secrets you tell and the lies you have buried deep in your pocket like one of Hobi’s found things. Something you can’t get rid of and cast back into the ocean. No matter how hard you try. There is something about murder that sticks, that stays no matter how many times you try to wash your hands of it.

It's not guilt, because you don't feel guilty for what you had to do.

Being backed into a corner can make someone do a whole hell of alot of monstrous things. And back then Life was monotonous. Back then there was Anguish without change.

Your life went like this: Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Meet up with Hyejin. Make poison. Make pastries. Go to the Don’s house. Feed it to them. Listen to Moonbyul tell you to wait. Go home. Get beaten again and again. Get raped every night. On and on and on.

Clean up your blood from the tiles. Clean it from the carpet. Hydrogen peroxide and not bleach. Cover the bruises up with color corrector first before you put concealer over them.

Smile and tell everyone that your husband and you are perfectly happy. There will be a pup on the way soon enough, I'm so lucky to have someone who supports me, and I'm so lucky to have a love like this.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Go to sleep and don't cry because then he'll beat you for keeping him awake.

In the darkness that curls around you. Blood going tacky between your legs, you start to dream of wicked sweet things.

What you've been through would be enough to make anyone go crazy, Enough to make anyone consider drastic action. Enough to make anyone consider murder.

Enough for you to slide a pair of small syringes off of Moonbyul’s night desk and a small packet of arsenic too. You know how to make a simple syrup. You know how to mix in arsenic to it, how to make it liquid soluble without breathing it in.

You make it in the fine china and break it after so that you can throw it out without worrying. You get a beating for it but you hardly feel it when Geumjae drags you across the floor by your hair. It hardly breaks your heart when he steps on your ribcage with the intent to break bones because you know what you have to do.

After, with your own blood on your teeth, you make sure to leave it in the bottom of the trash, and ask the cleaning staff not to take it out yet. They're supposed to find it.

You don't care if you die, you just want to make sure the necessary villains are punished. When it comes to blame the person who is most to blame is you anyway. You are simply numb to pain, numb to your own anguish. Numb to the idea of your own death too. Geumjae's already killed you in every way that matters.

Cut off a wolf's head and it still has the power to bite; give a girl an enemy and she'll do dangerous things.

Your meetings with the Don and beta always go the same; gossip, and greetings. Sometimes when you come bearing bruises, they tell you to wait just a little longer.

Go home. Get beaten. Get hurt. Get Raped. Wake up. Just give it time for his temper to settle. Once you're mated it will get better.

Even Moonbyul and Hyejin tell you that planning the perfect crime takes time. That you'll be saved if you only wait. Help is coming.

Bullshit.

You’re tired of waiting for him to kill you, you're tired of waiting to die. You're smarter than all of them because you know exactly how to get everything you want and you're willing to do anything to get it.

The next time Moonbyul and Hyejin take you to the Don and Beta’s house under the guise of afternoon tea, you are prepared for war and dressed with revenge in mind. Your white dress knotted at the shoulders falling in a heavenly sheet, like an avenging angel, neither pious nor sinful.

You are a force of nature and nature does not ask when it takes lives.

What’s worse; the people that enable the abusers or the abusers themselves? Who is more to blame for the pain caused?

You are no longer hiding and you won't let them hide this time. The bruise on your cheek is purple and mottled, the rings of bruises on your wrists from his hands while he held you down.

When you smiled at Geumjae over breakfast this morning, there was only one thought in your mind.

You’re next.

Your agency looks like this; elegantly done hair your skirt a little short for fall. A basket of arsenic-backed goods in a basket as is usual. Fluffy pink cupcakes with the perfect Swiss meringue buttercream in little spirals.

A gentle smile at the beta when she opens her doors for you, letting the monster in, because you’ve been over enough times that she trusts you. You suppose that's your doing too, you've fooled her into thinking you're just another idiot girl who decided to marry rich and didn't bother to consider the strings attached. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, you bare your teeth when you smile.

Hyejin has helped on that front; over the past few months, she has taught you exactly the kind of conversation that the beta likes- the useless conversations about family drama, the small little bits that you let through about your husband’s opinion on which pup is marrying whom, which alpha is good or bad for the packs near dozen omega pups that aren’t mated yet. Which alphas are likely to be a liability? This kind of gossip is all information and strategy.

You might have lied in your call to her and told her you were fearful of one of the younger ones- and a conversation you’d happened to witness on a street corner, a shadowy figure that looked a little too severe not to be the authorities. Of course, these kinds of things have to be handled with discretion and ginseng tea.

The Don does not bother to turn down the TV when you walk in, sitting vulnerable in his recliner with his feet up. It doesn’t appear that he has any sort of inclination or plans to interact with you when you sit here at his kitchen table and talk. Instead, he lounges and watches his sports, loud because his hearing is so bad, nearly deafening.

It’s good. hopefully anyone nearby will not overhear.

You hope that if this goes south before you have a chance to confess that they find the letter you wrote at home; the one that says your husband is the one that put you up to this.

You know that the pack’s retribution will be swift, that any sort of alibi he has will be null and void with the evidence you’ve been leaving. A little trail of breadcrumbs that leads right into a pretty little grave for your husband. Even if you won't be around to see it.

You're already a friend of pain. You already find comfort in it. If they kill you (which they will) then at least it will finally be over.

You wait until the moment you know is coming, when the Don looks over his shoulder at you and comands “Be a dear and bring me one.”

You put one of your artfully created confections on a pretty gold-rimed plate and walk to his side, you lean over to put it in his lap as he indicates. the same way he does every time you come over with sweets.

The lingering hand on your ass is hardly abnormal. behind you the beta's tea cup clinks as she sets her tea down and says nothing. even though you know she notices.

He’s so busy coping a feel he doesn’t notice your other hand, going to the syringe duck taped to your thigh.

It happens quicker than the Don can blink. The most powerful man in the underworld can't be bothered to protect his life for a pretty little piece of ass. You smile down at him, and his hand squeezes the round apple of your behind.

His hand is still on your ass when you whip your arm around with as much force as you can and drive the syringe and plunger into his neck.

You must have hit something in his neck because he barely has a second to splutter before he’s going still and quiet. Mouth falling horrifyingly slack. His breath rattles and his eyes dart as his whole body is paralyzed near instantly, in the time it takes for his blood to circulate.

Two paces, swing, plunge.

The beta barely has a second to scream or stand to attack you. You are so much younger than they are. Your body might be fragile and frail but It’s still stronger than hers. Her brief scream is easily drowned out by the scratch of the TV.

She ends up on the floor, the icing on the cupcakes sticky as she falls into half of them, tossed onto the floor by your brief tussle as you straddle her struggling form. Her pushing gets weaker and weaker and she sobs.

It doesn’t surprise you when you see the black tracery of a dying mating mark itching up her skin.

One thing that the family had always been oh so careful of was to talk only in their mother tongue around you. Secrets are best kept when they’re spoken in foreign tongues. It was a way to isolate you. To make them speak English for you to understand felt like a beholden request. At one point It was a point of insecurity for you, always left out of the loop, always relying on your husband to keep you in the know.

You bend over her as her pushing gets weaker and weaker, the arsenic doing its job, causing numbness and the tingling of extremities before it causes paralysis and then coma and death. Your hair falls in a sheet over the beta’s face.

You’ve studied much over the last few months. Enough that you lean in close over her and speak your words in perfect Korean.

“You look so angry,” you croon softly, dragging a finger down her cheek. Spittle froths at her mouth as she breathes heavily. “You shouldn’t- if you want someone to blame you only need to look in the mirror.”

You lean in close until your lips brush her ear, “it's your fault you see- you're the one who lied" you mimic her voice, making it scratchy, "'just wait a little longer, it will be better for the family if you stay quiet." you laugh, "as if that where true, the only person it benefits is you. You where ready to let him hurt me and kill me if i just stayed quiet."

You wipe away a bit of spit from her lower lip, "You always told me how it was your duty to protect the family- but you only serve yourself. If you'd have done something, if you'd have helped me I wouldn't have had to do this. You just wanted me to shut up and die quietly.”

You switch back to English, “Well now it’s your turn.”

You watch her tongue go numb, paralyzed, but the poison hasn’t advanced far enough for her not to speak.

“Fucking- worthless bitch.”

You laugh and stand brushing some crumbs from your skirt. She’s already too weak to move, to shout, or fight you. You watch the light start to leave her eyes, winking out so slowly, like a dying star. But she still looks so pissed.

“You don’t have a right to be angry, you killed me first. You can’t blame me for fighting back.”

She gives her last breath and the TV plays on. Your shoe ticks her hand, her fingers twitching weakly. You watch as she gasps her last breath, a small smile on your face.

You sit at the table and turn the TV down. You wait a few minutes, but it quickly becomes an hour. You have yourself a nice little treat while you watch, turning the channel to a food network while you eat.

You really are a fantastic cook. The crumb on this batch is so nice you don’t even taste the metallic tang of poison. You eat through one, and then another, until the whole basket is empty.

Before you know it there is a concerned knock at the door. The lock clicks and turns when you answer it.

When Moonbyul opens the door, you laugh at the expression on her face. Licking the frosting from your lips. Even that is delicious.

She takes in their bodies, crumpled on the floor the frosting on your cheeks. The evidence. Both of them dying. A violence you cannot undo.

Her voice is somber. “Oh Pup, what have you done?”

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

~-~

Notes:

this chapter is a very classic bily chapter, in the fact that there is a fuck ton of fluff and then bang the mafia bits just take you out. we needed to get back into the mafia bits of the story sooner rather than later though 💀

i felt like i was going a little too over the top with certain bits of puptalk in this chapter, but i really wanted to use it to show that like yeah- the pack has been treating her alot more gently since her breakdown, they've been babbying the fuck out of her, even if we don't get to see it :(

Hobi's texts are so???? Fucking cute?? He's so hopeless my god he wants to make her feel loved without actually saying it and i hope you read them and just go "oh, you're an idiot."

I have this whole elaborate backstory to how wonho's gym works with monthly subscriptions to classes where people can decide how many classes they want to take a week, ie gym dues for facilities and then discounted classes on top if they pay for it before hand, with several tiers.

this chapter almost feels clerical- this is definitely more of a set up chapter- where i needed to check off a lot of boxes, like hobi's courting present- before we go any further into the story. things are going to start amping up in terms of stakes pretty quickly.

That one part, where hobi is kinda malfunctioning after the m/c touches his cheek and everyone teases him feels the most representative of the pack as a whole. like that part where they're all replying- feels very real. i struggle a little to capture a sense of domesticity in concise ways, but i think this part is very tidy.

That little touch with hobi- where he touches her wrist and her finger, that touch has so much weight to it, i personally think the whole pack was tasting the sexual tension on the air, can you guys feel it too or is it all in my head?

idk why yoongi calling tae babygirl makes me so flustered but it does 🥵

i really wanted to work calling tae mommy into the chapter someway but tbh this chapter felt complex enough without it.

there is like- one plot hole in this whole story, and that is in the first chapter of the story when yoongi gets a call the person on the other line says "grandfather is dying." implying that his death wasn't instantaneous like this is shown to be. however, in my mind- the injections don't actually kill the don and beta but plunge them into a coma that they never wake up from- is this an actual possibility with arsenic poisoning- NO IT ISN'T lol, you're just going to have to suspend your disbelief for me.

the m/c has always been the person who killed the don and the beta- i've known this since like...maybe the 4th chapter? it wasn't in the og og plan for the story but almost everything in bily has been hammered out since then. and tbh you already knew she killed them just not that it was this violent! does this count as a secret???? idk! maybe!!!

she's a little murder baby just like minnie <3

405 notes · View notes

megalony · 2 months

Text

Saving Grace- Part 2

Here is the follow up for my latest Eddie Diaz imagine, thank you all for the amazing response to the first part. I hope you will all like this second part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf

@yousigned-upforthis @itzkaterena @okiegirl24

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: After Eddie saves a woman on a call, she becomes very attached to him. He tries to tell her he isn't interested, but it doesn't go well when she decides to taunt him by hurting his wife.

Enjoy.

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(Y/n) wasn't sure how long she had been asleep.

The moment she got through the door, she called Eddie to say she was home and when she flopped onto the sofa, she could feel her mind starting to shut down almost immediately. The last thing she heard was Eddie's voice on the other end of the phone, asking her to try and eat something and let him know if she did and if she started to feel any worse.

But she didn't know how long she had been asleep for; all she knew was that she didn't wake up because of the alarm she set so she was on time to collect Chris.

She woke up because there was a hand covering her mouth.

Finger dug bruisingly into her cheek. A rough palm pressed down on her mouth, mashing her lips against her teeth and pushing her head down into the cushion until she was almost imbedded into it.

When her eyes frantically opened and scanned around, she realised it wasn't anyone she knew stood in front of her.

But when she felt the blade of a kitchen knife press against her throat beneath her chin, her body started to shake.

And all she could do was scream.

"Scream again, and I use the knife. Got it?"

(Y/n) nodded. She would do anything to get this woman away from her. She wouldn't scream. She wouldn't make a sound or try and chomp her teeth down on the hand that was smashed into her mouth. (Y/n) wouldn't do anything, she wouldn't make a break for it or try to grab for her phone that was on the coffee table.

As long as she let go of her and removed the knife from her throat, (Y/n) would play nice.

Once the knife was pulled away and the hand let go of her mouth, (Y/n) took a deep breath and rolled her lips, moving her jaw from side to side to get the feeling back in her face. The bottom of her tooth had cut into her upper lip from the woman's tight grip and her jaw had started to ache.

Lydia. That was her name. That was the name of the woman Eddie said kept sending him those strange messages. The woman that turned up at the station almost every day last week to try and talk to Eddie.

How did she know where they lived? Why was she here?

Eddie told her to leave him alone. (Y/n) had been around the side of the truck with Hen, but they both heard him tell her in the sternest voice (Y/n) had ever heard from her husband. He told Lydia she couldn't keep coming by the station and she had to stop trying to message him. He was happily married with a family, he wasn't interested in anything she wanted.

Even Bobby had gone and told Lydia she wasn't welcome by the station as she was causing a distraction and she didn't have a problem they could help with. She was getting in the way of the team by coming round every day and she was pestering his team which Bobby wouldn't tolerate.

"Why are you here?" (Y/n) kept her voice quiet, afraid to speak any louder and break the atmosphere or cause Lydia to fly into a fit of rage. One wrong word and the knife might be back against her skin again.

Moving her hands to her sides, (Y/n) pressed down on the sofa and slowly sat up and swung her legs over the side until her feet were firmly on the laminate floor. She could feel her fingers digging harshly into the edge of the sofa, scrunching the material up beneath her nails as her shoulders sagged forward and her eyes locked on Lydia.

She had been so intently focused on the knife and the fact that this crazed woman was in her house that she didn't realise two other people were here too.

Two men were stood in the doorway to the living room behind Lydia.

What was going on? What were they trying to do?

"To teach you a lesson."

"Me?" (Y/n) hated how fragile her voice sounded and she gritted her teeth together when Lydia only smiled at her pathetic voice.

So this wasn't a joke or a mistake. Lydia was intentionally here for (Y/n), not because she thought Eddie might come home soon or because she wanted to see him. She was here to hurt (Y/n), clearly. She was this hell bent on having Eddie to herself that she had found out where they lived and come to scare his wife.

"Yes, you. Little Mrs Diaz." She smiled as if this was something obvious that (Y/n) was just too silly to understand. "Because you've taken him from me. Eddie should be with me, but he's not, because of you. So I have to do something about that."

Unease washed over (Y/n) and she leaned back, clicking her spine into place as she tried to keep a distance between her and this unhinged woman. Her lip curled in anger when Lydia sat down on the coffee table, directly across from her. She could feel the knife pressing into the edge of her knee, tapping against her knee cap like some kind of silent warning or message.

"How did I take him from you?" (Y/n) looked between Lydia and the men behind her, hoping someone would see to reason. "He married me over a year ago, he's my husband. I haven't stolen him from you."

Why was it (Y/n)'s fault for marrying Eddie way before Lydia even laid her eyes on him? (Y/n) had been with Eddie for the past four years and she was his wife. She wasn't some stranger on the streets drawing Eddie away from Lydia like a mermaid drawing him to his death in the sea. This wasn't (Y/n)'s fault and surely the two men, whoever they were, could see that too.

Her words had the opposite effect she wanted on Lydia. They didn't help her to see reason, they only infuriated her even more.

"He can't be with me because you're here. So I need to take you out the equation." When the knife moved to press into her abdomen, (Y/n) felt all the blood drain down to her toes. "And them too."

"Do you think that's wise?" (Y/n) spoke before she could stop herself and she reached her hand out to curl around the blade. She didn't care at the sting in her palm when Lydia started to rotate the knife from side to side until it started to slice into her hand. She just wanted it away from her stomach.

"What?"

(Y/n)'s tongue darted out over her dry, chapped lips and her eyes kept glancing from the knife up to Lydia. "You know Eddie, you know him really well… do you think a family man like him would be okay with you hurting his child?"

It was worth a try. It was worth seeing if trying to talk on Lydia's wavelength would get her to calm down just a little. If she thought she knew Eddie as well as she did, then (Y/n) needed to appeal to that side of her. She knew (Y/n) was pregnant, she must have found that out from Eddie or from watching them when they were at the station.

And if she had observed Eddie that much, she would see how much his family meant to him. She must see that hurting the baby- not to mention hurting (Y/n)- was going to send Eddie over the edge. He wouldn't want anything happening to his family.

A spark of adrenaline fluttered to life in (Y/n)'s stomach when her phone started to ring.

It was Eddie.

He had impeccable timing, as if he had some sort of sixth sense for when (Y/n) needed him and knew just how to pick his moments.

(Y/n) let her eyes dart across to her phone that was resting beside Lydia's leg. She saw Eddie's picture light up her phone, the picture of him in his thin black vest, matching shorts and tinted sunglasses from when they took Chris to the beach last month. He had such a cheesy grin on his face and one leg crossed over the other as he sat down in the sand with a beer in hand.

Without wasting a second, (Y/n) lunged forward, letting go of the knife that was coated in her blood as a thin, superficial slash mark appeared on the palm of her hand.

She swiped the button before Lydia could stop her and she managed to click it onto loud speaker before she tossed the phone across the room so Lydia and her henchmen couldn't get to it.

"Eddie! Eddie help me!" She screamed as loudly as she could and thrust her elbow back into Lydia's stomach when she tried to grab her by the hair to stop her reaching her phone. "No- Eddie please!" His name tore from her lips like a banshee howl as (Y/n) landed on the floor with a loud bang when Lydia grabbed her ankle and yanked her back.

"Baby what's going on? Are you in trouble?"

His voice rang out through the air and caused both women to pause. (Y/n) could hear the panic in her husband's voice, but Lydia could hear that overwhelming, protective urge in his voice that wasn't directed at her, but at another.

And it angered her.

(Y/n) could feel the tears pooling in her eyes and falling down her face when one of the men latched his hand into her hair and yanked her up off the floor. Her fingers scratched behind her at his wrist and she tried to slam her heels down on his feet but she was barefoot. Without her work boots or any shoes with a thick bottom layer, she wasn't going to cause enough harm as she needed to get free.

"Christ (Y/n) talk to me! What's happening?" The utter confusion and paranoia in Eddie's voice was unmatched by anything else. He knew (Y/n) was at home, she had fallen asleep on their last phone call when she got home and it had only been an hour and a half since then.

Eddie couldn't think of a reason for (Y/n) to leave the house when she wasn't well and Chris was still in school. But any number of things could be happening. She could have hurt herself, become sicker, had complications with the baby. Anything could be wrong and she wasn't telling him.

The other man seemed to break free from his trance in the doorway and his gritty voice made (Y/n) shiver as he moved to pick up her phone from the floor.

"She's ours now."

She writhed against the man behind her and held her head up when the knife pressed back against her neck and Lydia stood in front of her, glaring into her soul.

The sound of Eddie's scream tore through the air and abruptly ended when the man cut the call.

At least she had gotten through to him. At least Eddie knew something was happening and he could make his way home to her now. (Y/n) wouldn't be alone with these creeps for very long before her husband came home.

"That was sneaky. Now Eddie knows me and my brothers are here… I'll just have to move things along."

(Y/n) dug her nails into the man's wrist behind her but she took a sharp breath when the knife moved from her throat, down to her stomach again. This wasn't fair. Why was she doing this? Surely she could see that this wasn't going to win Eddie over or put him in her favour. Harming his wife and unborn child was only going to set Eddie off into a rampage that wouldn't be stopped. This wasn't going to go in Lydia's favour, no matter what she thought.

She could see the annoyance that washed over Lydia's face when (Y/n)'s phone began to ring again and Eddie's face flashed up on the screen. She shook her head at her brother who declined the call, but (Y/n) knew that wasn't going to do anything.

Eddie wasn't going to stop calling. He had no idea what was happening to (Y/n) or who was in the house with her. He would call and call and wait until someone answered or he reached the house.

"No!" When the knife pressed into her side and started to tear through her shirt, (Y/n) brought her knee up as high as she could. She rammed her kneecap into Lydia's left hip and sent her doubling over with a cry as her leg spasmed from the swift blow.

She forced her elbow up until it clocked the man's chin behind her and he had no choice but to let go of her hair.

Her hands reached forward but she wasn't quick enough to block the knife. The palm of her left hand was already dribbling blood down her wrist and she gasped when the knife sliced through her shirt.

The wound was superficial, at least, it felt superficial. The blade slashed across her abdomen rather than piercing straight through and that was a lucky break. (Y/n) didn't want to lose her baby by getting stabbed in the abdomen.

She pressed her bloodied hand against her side and thrust her right arm out to push Lydia away from her. But (Y/n) didn't get further than the armchair before one of the men grabbed her and roughly tossed her to the floor. Her right side bashed into the floor and sent a jolt running up her arm and quivering through her chest.

Gasps left her chapped lips and stars floated in front of her eyes as she tried to steady her breathing and gather her senses.

"Get off! Stop-" Tears blurred (Y/n)'s vision when hands deadlocked around her throat and made her lungs burst like balloons in her chest when she couldn't breathe.

Every inch of her body started to quiver and shake as she balled her hands into fists and rammed them into his groin to make him let go.

Ragged breaths scraped past her teeth and her chest heaved as she shimmied herself so she was sitting up on the floor against the armchair. She brought her knees up to her chest, pinning protectively in front of her stomach to try and make her stomach less of a target.

"Stop! Just stop, please." (Y/n) held her hands out in front of her legs and pressed her forehead down into the top of her knees. She felt sick. Every part of her body was shaking. Her hand was throbbing from the cut and she could feel her shirt sticking to her abdomen from the flesh wound she'd received.

The last thing (Y/n) wanted to do was fight her way out the house when she wasn't in the best shape mentally or physically. She was sick and run down and now she was hurt. (Y/n) would wait. She would try and talk this out and wait patiently for Eddie to get home and help her. Surely he would have called the police or at least Athena by now so they would have help here soon.

Lydia tilted her head back and groaned before she snatched the phone from her brother's hand when it started to ring again.

She knelt down on the floor in front of (Y/n) and huffed, smirking awkwardly to herself when she saw Eddie's picture flash up on the screen.

"He won't stop calling. You should answer him, y… you'll make him angry." (Y/n) doubted Lydia would want Eddie to be angry, especially not with her. The best thing she could do was to answer Eddie, it would let him know (Y/n) was still okay and conscious and it would buy (Y/n) some time if he would talk to Lydia.

She might calm down if Eddie talked to her.

"(Y/n)? (Y/n), baby are you-"

"Hi Eddie."

"Lydia, what are you doing? Where's (Y/n)?" The strain was clear in Eddie's voice. He wasn't the least bit impressed to hear her voice instead of his wife. He wanted to talk to (Y/n). He wanted to know what was going on, why Lydia was there and if (Y/n) was okay because she had screamed. Eddie wasn't used to hearing her scream, at least not like that.

"Don't worry, she's here. For now." The smile on Lydia's face made (Y/n) shiver and she wrapped her arms around her knees to pull them tighter to her stomach.

"Put her on the phone. I wanna hear her tell me she's okay."

"I'm okay." (Y/n) spoke before Lydia could tell her not to. The last thing she wanted was Eddie going out his mind with worry. At least if he knew she was conscious and relatively okay, he wouldn't go into a panic attack.

"See, she's fine-"

"What the fuck are you doing at my house?" He wasn't in the mood for playing games.

Eddie knew (Y/n)'s voice and the different tones and he knew she was far from fine. She was or had been crying and her voice was shaky which meant she was scared. Eddie wouldn't stand for that. He was less than five minutes away from home and when he got there, he prayed (Y/n) would be okay because he didn't know what he would do if she wasn't.

When a man in a bar had cat-called (Y/n) and tried to touch her, Eddie broke his nose on the spot. Someone going as far as to hurt her would drive him wild.

"I'm getting rid of the problem, so you and I can be together. No loose ends to stop us or get in the way."

They both heard the quiet 'oh my God' that Eddie let out and it wasn't a good indicator.

(Y/n) watched the way Lydia's face fell. That wasn't the reaction she was hoping for. She wanted Eddie to thank her, to laugh and say how pleased he was or that this was what he secretly wanted. Lydia didn't want him to go off the rails for (Y/n). But part of her must have known that there was a big risk of Eddie reacting this way. She must have realised that Eddie might just fly off the handle at the thought of (Y/n) getting hurt.

She was his wife and Lydia had to see that Eddie loved her. He had done nothing to make her feel as though he loved her instead of (Y/n). Everything Eddie said and did showed how much he loved his wife.

"She's quite the screamer you know… especially when you cut her." Reaching forward, Lydia slashed the blade along (Y/n)'s left arm, catching her off guard and cutting deep enough to make (Y/n) whimper.

"Don't you dare!"

"Try me."

She hung up. She hung up on him. As if she had the right or the nerve to do that.

Eddie slammed his fist out into the window hard enough to make a crack appear in the glass as a scream tore at the back of his throat. Why was she doing this? Eddie hadn't done anything to lead her on or give her the wrong impression and (Y/n) had nothing to do with this.

He slammed his knuckles against the glass and then the steering wheel until he felt the skin splitting at the seams and a familiar stinging sensation flooding through his fingers.

Driving home from work had never taken so long and Eddie had never driven so carelessly before. He didn't usually cut the corners or fly past the speed limit and he didn't care how hazardous his parking was when he pulled up on the front, half on the grass verge in front of his house.

He stumbled out the door and ran up the path, banging his fist against the door when it didn't open and he had to search for his keys in his pocket. Of course the door would be locked. Why would they leave it open for him when they clearly chose to terrorise his wife when they knew he was at work.

"Eddie's home."

Hearing his name pass from Lydia's lips made Eddie cringe and he could feel his stomach churning at the thought of what he was about to walk into.

She sounded so serene and calm for someone who was clearly unhinged and unstable enough to cause such torment.

He didn't like what he saw.

He passed through the hall and stood in the doorway of the living room with his hands balled up into fists at his sides and tremors rattling through his muscles. (Y/n) was sat in the armchair near the sofa, both hands clenched tightly around her knees and her shoulders hunched forward. But she had her head tilted back as a man Eddie had never seen before was stood behind the chair with a knife held against her throat.

Eddie could see blood lathered across both (Y/n)'s hands and blood was smeared all up her left arm, but he couldn't see where it was coming from or where the wound was. And when he noticed her shirt was sticking to her abdomen with a thick line of blood down her left side, he could have screamed.

What had they done to her? Why did he leave her home alone? Why didn't he take the day off and stay home with her?

"You're home," Lydia repeated with a sickly sweet smile that made Eddie's jaw clench. "Why don't we go talk?"

"Why don't you let my wife leave?" His hands moved to his hips and his head tilted back as he looked down at her. His eyes followed her movements as she got up and moved to stand in front of him, and when she tried to reach out for him, he took a step back.

Eddie didn't want to be close to her. He didn't want to touch her in any way, he didn't want to be close enough to feel her breathing down his neck. All he wanted was to have (Y/n) safe and have these people out of their home.

He took the liberty of calling Athena on his way home and had been assured that officers would be at the house soon. They needed to hurry up.

"What for? I'm doing you a favour, this is for us-"

"No. You've hurt her enough and I'm not gonna let you do anything else to her." Eddie couldn't keep his eyes on Lydia, his attention kept drawing back to his wife. All he wanted to was run over to her and check that she was alright. He wanted to see why she was bleeding, what injuries she had and tend to them and take her to get checked out.

"That's not up to you." Lydia held her chin up defiantly and placed her hands on her hips, matching Eddie's stance.

But she wasn't expecting him to grab her by the throat.

His fingers squeezed tightly around her thin neck until all she could do was scrape small fragments of air past her lips. She dug her nails into his wrist but Eddie didn't feel the movement. He held tight enough to frighten her and to get the attention of the two men who clearly weren't expecting things to play out like this.

"Actually it is. You wanted my attention, now you have it. Tell your friends to wait outside." If she wanted Eddie to listen and play along, she had to go along with the rules he was setting in place.

He wasn't going to listen to her if she was threatening (Y/n) and he wasn't going to sit back and let her try and torture his wife or wind him up. As soon as the men were outside, Eddie could focus on (Y/n) and deal with Lydia easily. And the police should be here soon and they could arrest the two men if they were waiting outside like bait.

When Eddie let go of her neck, Lydia gulped for air and moved her hands to hold her neck as she stumbled on her back foot. But the message seemed to have gotten through to her because she nodded and pointed at the two men until they trudged through the hall.

She had gotten what she wanted. She had hurt (Y/n) like she set out to do and now she had Eddie's attention. That was what she wanted. She wanted Eddie and now she had him, just not in the way she was hoping for.

"Why would you do this?" Eddie had to ask.

He couldn't fathom how Lydia thought doing any of this was fine. How she thought she could constantly call and text him and show up at his place of work every day like a lost puppy and think he would be okay with this. He couldn't see how she thought attacking his family was going to magically make Eddie fall in love with her and want to be with her.

Surely she could see this was only going to make him feel the opposite and want to be as far away from her as possible.

"For us. She's a hindrance to us."

"She's my wife! The only problem here is you." Eddie didn't care for the way Lydia reeled back as if he'd slapped her. And he didn't care for the broken hearted expression she wore which only ignited his anger even further.

He barged his shoulder into hers and walked past her so he could go over to (Y/n). She needed his attention and he needed to find out whether she was okay or not.

A round of trembling set in (Y/n)'s body when Eddie knelt down in front of her. Her eyes followed him as he crouched down and slowly curled his hands over her knees to part her thighs. He spread her legs to either side and wedged himself between them so her knees were pressed into his chest and his hands raked over her thighs.

He trailed his fingertips across her thighs and worked his way up to her take her wrists. He pulled her hands closer to his face for inspection and his chest tightened when he saw the cut down the base of her left palm.

That was where most of the blood seemed to have come from.

When Eddie pulled her left arm closer, he tilted it at an angle and rolled his lips together at seeing another slash mark down the side of her arm just below her elbow. His thumb trailed across the mark which made (Y/n) shiver and wince and Eddie knew it was going to require stitches.

He could feel Lydia hovering close behind him, trying to look over his shoulder and see what he was doing but he didn't care. His attention would stay on (Y/n) until Lydia tried to say or do something that riled him up.

He scrunched the bottom of (Y/n)'s shirt in his hand and lifted it up and (Y/n) curled her fingers around Eddie's arm as she looked down to see how deep the cut was on her stomach.

It looked deeper than she first thought, but it didn't look worrying enough concerning the baby. She had had a shock today and a tumble, but (Y/n) was sure the baby was fine. She prayed the baby was okay. Her fingers tightened around Eddie's arm when he turned to look over his shoulder but both his hands stayed around (Y/n). He had his left hand now beneath her shirt on the middle of her back and his right hand was held protectively over her stomach.

"Did you do this?" Something told Eddie that Lydia had been the one to cause these marks on (Y/n), even though one of the men had been holding the knife against her when Eddie walked in.

"You should be with me. You saved me, we're supposed to be together and she's in the way of that. She needs to go."

Part of Eddie wished he hadn't saved her. A big part of him wished they hadn't gotten there in time or that Evan or Hen had been the ones to pull her up out of that balcony. He wished she didn't suddenly attach herself to him because now it had caused his wife to be harmed and Eddie couldn't do anything about it. He couldn't change what had happened and now he was going to be worrying about making sure this never happened again.

"She needs to go to hospital." Reaching his arms around, Eddie pressed both his hands down against (Y/n)'s back and slowly stood up, pulling (Y/n) up to her feet with him.

He needed to get her to a doctor and have her stitched up and checked over to make sure she was okay. He wasn't wasting anymore time here with someone as derranged as Lydia.

"No! You can't choose her over me!"

(Y/n) coiled her arms to her chest and let Eddie move her behind him. She reached one hand out to scrunch his shirt up in her fist and she leaned her head forward until her temple was pressed into the back of his shoulder. She felt his left arm reach behind him and clamp down on her hip, making sure she was safely behind him and out of reach of Lydia.

She heard him seethe "There was never a choice." before he started to mutter 'Out' under his breath as he nudged her backwards until she took the hint and moved towards the door.

(Y/n) flung the door open but her hands reached out for Eddie's arm when she felt a pair of hands grabbing her shoulders, pulling her out off the doorstep.

"Eddie-" She couldn't help but snap her eyes closed and she yanked hard on Eddie's arm, causing him to stumble over the threshold to try and keep up with her.

"Let her go!"

"They're good, they're safe let them go." Athena's voice cut through the air and she waved her hand over at Eddie and (Y/n).

The moment Eddie's hands grappled with her waist, (Y/n) flung herself forward into his chest and bound her arms around his torso. She pressed as deeply into him as she could until his arm wound around her waist and his hand tangled in her hair to keep her close. She could feel his lips mingling against the top of her head, burying in her hair and he tightened his hold on her when Lydia started to scream as she was apprehended.

"I've got you, mi amor. Shh, it's okay now."

***

"No- no get off me!" (Y/n) flung her left arm out and but her teeth punctured into her lower lip and a quiet mewl burned at the back of her throat when her arm ignited in pain and she felt the wound stretch.

Her hand moved to cradle her arm that she brought against her chest and she moved two steps back until she was stood near the window. "I need to assess you-"

"Eddie, please…" (Y/n) felt blood welling up on her tongue from her lip when she bit down harder.

Her eyes cast over to her husband stood near the door. He looked very casual, leaning his shoulders back against the wall with his arms folded over his chest and one leg crossed over the other.

She didn't want the nurse to touch her. (Y/n) had had enough of being a spectacle today. She had been forced to sit and wait in the truck this morning on their call and have the whole team stare at her like she was incapable of doing her job. Then she had been pushed down and stabbed and frightened and hurt. The last thing she needed was another stranger prodding and assessing her when Eddie could do it just fine.

The first doctor told Eddie he couldn't tend to (Y/n)'s wounds because he wasn't a doctor and he didn't work here. But they weren't going to have a choice if (Y/n) didn't let anyone else touch her.

Eddie pushed off the wall when the nurse looked at him with pleading eyes and a sigh. She would let him do his job as a medic if it would help (Y/n).

They switched places. The nurse stood near the door, staying around to help and grab the equipment but letting Eddie take the lead. When he silently pointed at the bed, (Y/n) trailed back over and slowly sat back down on the bed. She parted her legs to the side when Eddie grabbed a stool and sat down between her knees so he could check her injuries.

He began to hum as he dabbed the wet cotton swabs against (Y/n)'s left palm and then down her arm to clean away the dried blood and see how deep the wounds were.

"Do I need stitches?"

"You do no your arm, mi amor. Will you let me do it, please?"

(Y/n) nodded. She would let Eddie do anything. He was the only one who could look after her when she was ill and they both knew it.

"Let's sort your hand first," He cleaned the wound with antiseptic and took the suture strips the nurse had already laid out on the side table next to the bed.

Eddie held (Y/n)'s wrist tightly when she winced and her hand trembled, but she tried her best to stay still as he stuck four strips over the wound to hold it together tightly. Her hand wound wasn't too deep, small strips would be enough to hold the skin together and he would bandage it to make sure it stayed clean and didn't get infected.

But her arm needed proper stitches and although Eddie wasn't strictly supposed to do them since they were now in the hospital, he would have to because the nurse wasn't getting anywhere.

"This is gonna hurt, try and hold still for me."

Eddie took the needle the nurse handed out to him that would numb (Y/n)'s arm enough for him to stitch it back together.

(Y/n) tilted her head back and snapped her eyes closed, groaning when the needle pressed into the crease of her elbow. A quiet whimper bubbled past her lips when Eddie cleaned the wound again before he got the stitches ready which the nurse hovered by to watch. But Eddie knew what he was doing. He had been in the army, he had stitched people up on the move while snipers aimed at them and bombs went off in the background.

He had stitched a comrad up in the back of a helicopter before with a steady hand and the neatest stitches he had ever done. Eddie could do this, no problem.

He hated the way (Y/n) groaned and slammed her free hand down into the bed when he slipped the needle through her skin and started the stitching. He knew she had never had to have stitches before. Broken bones was the only thing (Y/n) had experienced and now she was being stitched up when she wouldn't have needed to be if Lydia didn't get involved.

Eight stitches later and (Y/n) felt like she was going to pass out. The sight of those tiny dark blue threads in her arm made her eyes water and she was grateful when Eddie rolled two lots of bandages around her arm and down her wrist. From her elbow to the base of her fingers, her arm was covered in white bandage roll and secured with medical tape to make sure it stayed tight and in place.

"Lift up your shirt, mi amor." Eddie shuffled closer until his knees pressed into the edge of the bed and he gratefully took the cotton swabs the nurse handed over to him.

"Please don't tell me I need more stitches," Her voice came out meek and quiet but she felt a wave of relief when Eddie leaned forward and kissed her stomach.

"No, baby. No more stitches." It was just a flesh wound and Eddie couldn't have been more grateful. That meant there was less chance of having any complications or problems with the baby. He applied some more suture strips across her stomach just to make sure it would heal properly and he knew the nurse would give (Y/n) some antibiotics to take home. The last thing she needed was to get an infection from whatever knife had been used to cut her.

"Can I do a sonogram? Once we know the baby is okay, you can be cleared and sent home."

Eddie snapped off the latex gloves and tossed them in the bin before he wheeled the stool to the side so he wasn't in the way. He watched (Y/n) lift her legs up onto the bed and she shuffled higher until she was sat up and she tucked her shirt into her bra to keep it out the way.

She had only just had her latest sonogram last week, but at least this would clear the worries from their minds. And Eddie would get to see the sonogram this time.

Her hand reached out at her side until Eddie took the hint and tangled their fingers together. He brought their entwined hands up so he could kiss the back of her hand and he stood up, keeping as close to the side of the bed as he could.

His eyes focused on the screen but he didn't miss the way (Y/n) moved her other hand to her mouth and started to bite down on her nail out of nervous habit.

"All looks good, no loss of fluid, placenta and baby are in place… and there's the heartbeat."

That noise was like music to their ears and (Y/n) closed her eyes and tilted her head back. The baby was okay. Nothing had gone wrong or caused any problems. The baby was exactly where they should be and they were fine, the heartbeat proved that much. (Y/n) felt her lips curving up into a smile when Eddie leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"There's our baby."

#eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #imagine #911 imagine #evan buckley #pregnant! reader #pregnancy

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steviewashere · 10 days

Text

Love, Rest Your Head

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Canon Typical Injuries Tags: Pre-Season 4, Aftermath of Starcourt Mall, Aftermath of Torture, Season 4, Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Steve Harrington, Major Character Injury, Established Relationship, Eddie Munson Takes Care of Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington Has Head Trauma, Mentions of Vomiting, Self Sacrificing Steve Harrington, Mentions of Major Character Death (In Reference to Hopper), Foreshadowing, Ambiguous Ending

💕—————💕 The news was pure devastation. Overhead shots of the Starcourt Mall burning. Flames engulfing the building on all sides, swallowing it up until it sat a collapsed, ashen mess. There was no structure. No semblance to any kind of store that was inside. Just dust. Blackened walls. Melted floor tiles.

Eddie sat on the edge of the couch cushion, left hand tucked harshly under his thigh, chomping down on his right hand’s fingernails. There was a metallic tang on his tongue, but he couldn’t get himself to stop. Not even when the raw, exposed parts of his skin bared themself as a tender ache in his mouth’s warmth. Nothing could stop him. In between bites, there were moments where he was holding his breath. Gasping for it when push eventually came to shove. At least it was air he was choking on, not bile.

His uncle was stoic in his recliner in the corner. Until, with the quietest and gruffest voice Eddie’s ever heard, Wayne said, “Your boy. He’s in the parking lot. Has to be.”

“What if he isn’t?” Eddie barely mustered. “What if—What if he’s not there in the parking lot with all those ambulances? What if Steve’s stuck in the debris and he can’t get out and nobody can hear him and then he doesn’t come home and I never—“ He was back to choking on his breath. Sipping at the smallest pockets of air he could manage.

Wayne didn’t answer. The promises that could be made in this moment, every single one of them could be a fallacy.

Then, the news reporter read out those who suffered in the fire. That crisped with the building. Ones that couldn’t be recovered. Ones that were found, yet only identifiable by the licenses in their pockets.

Jenna Kinling Parker Smith Tony Roberts Billy Hargrove…

Eddie bit his fingers harder at that last name. Maybe they didn’t run in the same circles or maybe they weren’t friends. But Billy was still a young dude. He had a life ahead of him. They had classes together. What if…What if…What if, rings loudly in Eddie’s head.

Except, Steve isn’t listed. Neither is his new friend, Robin. They aren’t…They weren’t found in the rubble. They weren’t believed to be in it either. And, as if on cue, the trailer’s phone begins to ring. Eddie is up and out of his seat before he has a chance to miss a single ring.

“Munson residence, Eddie speaking,” he answers hastily.

On the other end is the wet, nasally, raspy breathing of another person. The deeper the breaths, the more he can make out it’s somebody masculine. Their intakes are interrupted by small sniffles. Short bursting whimpers that come from sure pain, not pleasure.

“Hello?” Eddie speaks quietly.

The person gasps. Sobbing around the words, “Eddie…Eddie, I need help.” Steve.

“I’ll help, sweetheart,” he promises immediately. “What do you need? I—Uncle Wayne is here, too. We can help. We can—“

“‘M at the mall. And it’s all charred and…and gone. And I think I—I left your birthday present in Scoops and I’m sorry that I—My head hurts, Eds. It hurts and I’m bleeding and the paramed—they think…Billy’s dead and I watched him die and it scared me and—I don’t like him, I don’t like him at all but he looked sad and he looked…He’s dead, Eddie. I watched somebody die, Eddie,” Steve rambles. His words are heavily slurred. Barely breaking by his breath. Almost swirled by puke.

Before Eddie has the chance to interrupt, Steve is continuing. “I protected Robin from getting hurt,” he says seriously, gravely. But his next words are tiny, as if Eddie was listening to a child, not his eighteen year old boyfriend. “You’re going to be mad at me.”

“Why?” He asks. Shakes his head though, and asks instead, “Where should I pick you up? Does Robin have a ride home?”

“I got beat up again,” Steve barrels on. “’T’s really bad, Eds. Everything is ringing. Makin’ me nauseous.” His breaths grow heavier as if he’s ready to retch on his sneakers.

Eddie prepares himself to hear it all, because he knows it’ll happen. Knows it like the back of his hand, unfortunately. From how many other times Steve’s been concussed. Yet, he doesn’t care, saying, “I’ll take care of you here at home, but I need you to tell me where I need to pick you up. Does Robin need a ride?”

Steve mumbles, “She already left. Hugged her and everythin’. Rob—Robin’s safe. I protected her from getting hurt. They were going to hurt her, Eds. It would’ve been my fault for getting her involved.”

The words crawl under Eddie’s skin like spiders. He wants to scratch at himself, get them out of his head. Get away from how small each word is that comes from Steve’s mouth. He wants to find out who ‘They’ are and kill them. Wants to rip this world apart for making Steve sound so…horrified. But he just calmly asks, “Where are you, Steve? Where at the mall are you?”

“Front,” Steve mutters, “at the payphone. The one with all the gum on the back. It’s gross, Eds. I feel gross. Smell like—I’m sorry.”

Eddie just swallows harshly. Doesn’t know why Steve’s apologizing. But he’s scared shitless, that’s for sure. He grabs for his car keys on the dining table. “I’m going to hang up, Stevie. I’ll be there soon, okay?”

The last thing he hears is Steve coughing and retching up his lungs. Spiders work their way into his veins.

——— Sure enough, Steve’s by the payphone. Sitting with his knees up to his chest. Leaning against the thin pole of the phone. Inches away from whatever lunch he had last. Doesn’t look like much. Eddie just thought Steve was busy with work and relaxing at home. Though…Eddie’s starting to piece together that maybe Steve never left work. Like he’s been here way too long.

Steve shivers where he grasps to himself and Eddie approaches with great caution.

He crouches down to Steve’s level, keeps his hands to himself, and speaks softly. “Steve, it’s Eddie. I brought you a jacket. And some water. I’ve got crackers. You ready to go home?”

With his one good eye, Steve looks to him. Blood caked around his nose and mouth and chin. Eyebrow split, though covered with a butterfly bandage. His left eye is swollen shut and a deep, concerning purple. A part of Eddie almost wants to ask who left Steve here like this. To sit by himself and hold to his elbows. But, a stronger part of him cares too much about making sure Steve gets home.

Slowly, Steve reaches out his right hand and grasps at Eddie’s left wrist. Thumb harsh over his pulse point. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. Without any fanfare or warning, Steve’s eyes fill with tears. Streaming down his face in sluggish lines. “I was stupid and got in trouble again and now I’m all…I’m all broken and ugly and I smell really bad and you’re gonna have to stay awake with me because I’m not allowed to sleep and I—“

“Baby,” Eddie whispers lowly, “Steve, I’m just glad that you’re alive. I’d rather look after you all beaten up and bloody than…Well, y’know.”

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” Steve meekly asks.

“Do you want me to be mad at you?”

With great force, Steve shakes his head. Hissing and hiccuping at the pain that surges through him. “It hurts so bad,” he whimpers. “I just—They were going to hurt Robin and—and the kids. I couldn’t let them do that and now I—“

Eddie gently shushes him. “You don’t need to explain yourself right now, okay, sweetheart? We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

“What if I never talk about it?”

He shrugs. Wraps his free hand over Steve’s where it still grips him. “Then you don’t talk about it,” he whispers. “Let me take you home, though? Give you the food and water I brought. Warm you up and change your clothes. Can clean your face,” Eddie lists. He cups the injured side of Steve’s face with a tentative hand, barely touching his swollen skin. “Clean this all up and brush your hair. Let you sleep.”

“I can’t sleep for long,” Steve reminds him.

“Wake you up every few hours, that’s fine. I don’t have school tomorrow, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”

“‘M’kay,” Steve agrees quietly. He’s drooping in Eddie’s hold. Exhaustion quickly swamping him. “Sorry if I throw up in the car.”

Eddie gently hefts them up off the ground, leads them towards the van, and gets Steve situated in his passenger seat. He murmurs, as he buckles Steve in, “I can clean up. But I’ll leave the window rolled down. I’ll drive slow. Do you want the jacket?”

Steve shakes his head softly. His eyes are closed and the rest of him is very still to his seat. As if moving anything physically pains him. It probably does, based on what Eddie’s able to see. “I don’t want to be reminded of the heat,” he state quietly.

“Okay,” Eddie whispers. He leans up into Steve’s space, presses a short kiss to his temple, and cranks the passenger window down. “Just lean towards the window a little. Rest. I’ve got you, baby.”

The car ride is incredibly slow, it makes Eddie antsy. But out of the corner of his eye, he notices Steve tensing at every gradual rumble and deep pothole. It makes Eddie want to just get out and push the van. He slides a hand off of the steering wheel and goes to grab Steve’s left wrist, but he jolts away. Head colliding solidly with the window frame.

“Don’t,” Steve bites. “Don’t touch me there,” he whispers.

Eddie swallows down the sudden rise of bile in his throat. “Okay, Steve,” he murmurs right back. “Do you…you need me to pull off for a second? Give you a break from the bumpy road?” Steve gives a slow and tentative nod.

He pulls to the shoulder, parks in silence, and just sits in the driver’s seat. Face forward, eyeing beyond the windshield. He’d turn on the radio, try to fill the gap between their bodies, but knows that the noise would be too much. Instead, he listens in on Steve’s audible deep breaths. Like he’s trying to ground himself to the carseat or maybe veer away from puking out the window. Eddie wants to touch and soothe, like he normally would during Steve’s concussions. But…he can’t. There are tears percolating in the corners of his eyes.

“You need water?” Eddie quietly asks.

“Please,” Steve mutters lowly. His voice is crackling and snotty wet.

Eddie moves slowly between the front seats, grabs an unopened bottle of water, and uncaps it. He leans across the center console to find a straw in the glove box. Plops it in the bottle and offers it up for Steve to take. “Slow sips,” Eddie states, “don’t need to make yourself sicker.” Steve angles his body away from the window, leans forward slightly, and takes the straw between his lips. Each swallow of water looks like he’s trying to consume rocks. His tongue working slowly, hesitantly against the straw. Testing it. “You’re doing a good job,” Eddie can only praise.

When Steve pops off the straw, it’s with a gasping breath. Catching and falling and catching again. He lolls his head on the seat, looking over to Eddie. Chest moving up and down with shallow, croaking shakes of air. “We can go,” he rasps, “I wanna sleep.”

The water bottle goes to the cup holders. And Eddie does what he’s told. Crawling slowly back home. Taking small pauses to check in with Steve, help him drink water, nibble on some crackers, rub his back when he hurls out the car window.

But when they make it back home, they move in complete and utter silence. Through the front door and to the couch. Wayne ogles the two of them, fear present in his eyes. His mouth hangs open, suckled dry of all words he could ever think to say. Eddie makes him grab a bowl of warm water and a rag.

And they just exist in silence.

In fear, Eddie now realizes, of whatever happened to Steve.

Because they’re not stupid. This wasn’t a fire. There was something else. Something more…disastrous. Dastardly. But Eddie places the bowl on the coffee table, sits on Steve’s right on the cushions, and turns them towards each other.

“Alright, I’ve gotta clean the blood off of your face, Stevie,” he encroaches their silence. “I’m going to be really careful. I’ll go slow. But I need you to tell me when you need a break, okay?” Steve blinks groggily at him. His eyes are dilated beyond belief. Eddie’s nauseous just looking at them. These aren’t the eyes he fell in love with.

These eyes are like terror in existential form.

Steve nods, though. He places a shaking hand on Eddie’s left knee. Doesn’t tighten it, doesn’t pet the fabric under his hand, just rests it there. As if he’s searching for an anchor.

Eddie wets the wash rag with the warm water. Raises it to Steve’s chin. “If this hurts, you need to tell me. Here we go.” The rag stains pink and crimson as soon as it touches Steve’s skin. He hates how hard he has to press just to work the blood off, but it’s dried to him. It’s coming off in flakes, Eddie sees the particles fall to Steve’s dirtied uniform. As he works the rag over Steve’s face, he can’t help but notice how stained and red the uniform is, too.

It used to be something Eddie could tease Steve about. Be flirtatious and saucy about it. Talk about stupid things with. Make dumb fantasies and see if Steve will play into them. But looking at it now only makes Eddie’s chest hurt. Makes his stomach turn uneasily. Shrivels something inside of him that will never live again. But he’ll get Steve into his clothes. Get him comfortable. Maybe he’ll burn the uniform when Steve isn’t looking. Rid of it like a demon needing to be expelled.

The last bit of the blood finally comes away, flaking from Steve’s nostrils to the washcloth. Eddie places it back in the pink tinted water. And then he looks back. At Steve’s child like eyes. And his split lip. The plum like bruise around his left eye.

Eddie’s never had homicidal thoughts, but today might just be the eye opener for him.

But he continues to be gentle. Offering, “Let’s get you some of my clothes. I’ll wash your hair in the bathroom sink. Then, you can rest.” Steve just nods, allows Eddie to pull him along to the bedroom, and change him out of his clothes. Ignores the slight bruising on his ribs, where he most likely struggled or fell. Tries to not think about the red, twisting lines across Steve’s chest, arms, and wrists from where he’d been tied. Just covers Steve back up in reds and blacks and soft things. And, while Steve is looking away, throws the Scoops uniform away in a nearby waste basket.

Washing his hair is no struggle. Steve goes listless and quiet when Eddie scrubs at his scalp, carefully detangles knots that were glued together by sticky blood. He barely blinks as he watches Eddie move and go through his hair washing routine. Doesn’t protest any of what Eddie chooses to do—even when he puts too much conditioner in the ends of his hair or doesn’t do two wash throughs with the shampoo, even if he uses a hair dryer instead of a towel. Allows him, which Eddie finds a little odd. He has an inkling, though, that it may just be the gentle touch that Steve doesn’t want to mitigate.

When they’re back in bed, Eddie lays flat on the mattress. Putting space between their two bodies. His alarm is set for three hours from now, where he’ll wake Steve up and make sure his concussion symptoms either are stagnant or lessening. But for now, he just stays put. Eyes up at his ceiling, stomach turning and knotting at whatever happened today.

Whatever happened almost doesn’t matter, knowing Steve made it out alive.

But there’s a haunting to him that Eddie can’t ignore.

Right when he thinks Steve is asleep and goes to close his own eyes, does he hear the smallest of statements.

“Hopper died, too,” Steve murmurs.

“No…”

Steve nods sagely against his pillow. “Heard about it through some of the kids I babysit. Guess he…Guess I wasn’t the only one to make a sacrifice.” Eddie hears him shift, coming closer. His body warmth radiating and tight against his rigid body. There’s a hesitant palm that slithers and sits on Eddie’s chest. Where his heart beats rabidly. “Could…Could’a been me.”

Eddie places his own hand over the back of Steve’s. Presses them together firmly. His chest caving with the push. “Don’t say that,” he harshly whispers. “Don’t…Steve, I thought it was going to be you. Please don’t say that.”

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I just…That’s the only thing I could think of before you got me. How I—I almost didn’t get to see you again.”

“At least you’re with me now, right? I’m just glad that you’re alive.”

“Yeah,” Steve croaks. “I just wish I could bring myself to tell you what happened.”

“Don’t need to do that, Steve. Just rest up and get better for me, alright?”

Steve shuffles closer. His head resting on Eddie’s shoulder. He nods. “Thank you. I love you,” he sleepily murmurs.

Eddie wraps an arm around his back and squeezes him tightly. “I love you, too, love bug. Get some sleep and I’ll check on you in a bit.”

The snores are a comfort after tonight.

——— And when he looks Steve in the eyes, mere seconds before he leaves for Vecna, Eddie understands the harrowing sacrificial fear. He’ll be the one to protect Steve now. “Make him pay,” he says. But he knows, reflected in Steve’s eyes, that there is finality in his stare. His stomach turns and his hands shake, but damnit, he’ll make sure that Steve won’t be the one drowning in blood this time.

He hopes to hear snores against his shoulder tomorrow night.

If night comes.

💕—————💕

#stranger things #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #angst and hurt/comfort

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atom-writings · 11 months

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Nice blog! You wouldn't mind if I took a little chomp out of it yeah? :D

Mmmmm can I request France,Germany,England, Prussia and Russia with an s/o who really likes there accent and voice. S/o would listen to them talk all day just to hear there voice/accent? There just mesmerized by it.

Much appreciated partner and have a great day🙏🙏‼️‼️🔥🔥⁉️⁉️🪑🪑🪑🪑

(France, Germany, England, Prussia & Russia x Reader) S/O that loves their accent!

(Gender Neutral) Headcanons ~ A/N have fun eating my blog but beware. Theres poison sometimes :)

Trigger Warning: None, just fluff!

Oh, you do not need to tell him that. He knows. And he adores how obsessed you are with just his voice. Don’t worry, he won’t tease you too bad

But expect to be woken up a couple of times by him reading you love poems in French. Actually, he’s doing that all the time. Anytime that he can speak to you in French, he’s doing it.

“My beautiful language for a beautiful person, no?”

It’s also pretty obvious that he exaggerates his accent for you. Sure, he’s been speaking English for centuries, but you’d never guess that from how he talks to you. It’s a little childish, but he just can’t get enough of your face whenever he says anything even remotely romantic in that silky voice of his.

Whenever he catches you staring, he can’t do anything but grin, promising himself that he’ll spoil you sometime soon for being so cute.

Ludwig has never really liked his own voice that much, so at least someone does for him. He always complains it’s too harsh and too loud. And years of people judging him for his accent didn’t help that…

But he trusts you completely. If you say you want to hear him, he’ll talk as much as you want. But since you’re not giving him a prompt, you’re hearing about 1870s train logistics. He doesn’t make the rules.

He would try to be all affectionate and sweet like you want him to… but that is really not his forte. He tries! But you’ll just both end up blushing and stuttering and getting nothing done then. If it’s just his handsome accent you want though, you’re all good. He can make a manual on building an IKEA chair sound hot.

He’d rather hear YOU ramble than do so himself. Even if he does love how adorable you are when you’re so infatuated with him.

No surprise there. You’re not the first partner of his to love his voice, and you won’t be the last. Luckily that means he’s got a whole lot of experience, so he knows exactly what to say to melt your heart.

“Come on, Darling, don’t look at me like that. Why don’t we get out of here, just me and you? How about that, Love?”

He’s not much for rambling, much less talking about himself, but he can absolutely fulfil your need for his voice elsewhere. A lot of your nights spent together will be him reading some ancient novel to you, his voice soothing as ever, until you inevitably fall asleep cuddled up next to him.

He must admit, he loves having that power over you. Being able to make you fall in love with him using nothing but his words? You’re just so cute, he can’t resist flustering you on purpose.

Well, of course you do! He’s spent centuries making sure he sounds hot as hell! But… you’re being serious right? You aren’t annoyed by how high-pitched he can get? Ok, thank god.

He is so excited once you tell him that. It’s hard to stop himself from immediately teasing you about it. After all, there isn’t a single sight that’s cuter to him than your pretty face all lost in love for him.

If you’re ever feeling down, he tries to distract you by simply telling you a long, overly complicated story from his past. Which, with those purple eyes fixed on you and a goofy smile plastered across his face, all the while his voice drips with accent, it’s hard to not get distracted.

He loves talking about himself anyway. It’s a good thing you like hearing him. Most people don’t. But that’s just what makes you two meant to be <3

Oh, you like his voice? He’s confused. You’re being serious? … why?

The poor guy is really insecure about his voice. He worries his accent is too strong, too ugly, and his voice is way too high-pitched. It seems like no one likes when he talks… they say he’s rude and weird. So… your adoration for him and how he speaks is a real shock.

Whenever you ask him to talk more, he gets all embarrassed and doesn’t know what to say! Especially if you compliment his accent, then he just freezes up and dismisses you. Anywhere you are, he’ll start talking all quietly and cover his face with his hands. But you can still see him blushing underneath them…

But once he’s used to it, he loves just narrating the things he’s doing. Sometimes you’ll wake up and come downstairs to see him coming up with some silly song about the breakfast he’s cooking you. Learning that you like hearing him has definitely made him include stuff like that in his daily routine.

Plus, now when he wants a reaction out of you… he’ll lean into it. Rolling his r’s dramatically, whispering to you in Russian… when he wants to be, he’s quite a tease.

#hetalia imagines #heta tag #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #arthur tag #ludwig tag #aph russia x reader #hws russia x reader #aph france x reader #aph england x reader #aph germany x reader #aph prussia x reader #hws england x reader #hws france x reader #hws germany x reader #hws prussia x reader #gilbert tag #francis tag

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snaillock · 10 months

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kurona ranze as your bf: random hcs

tags: male!reader, reader is taller than kurona(5’6), reader is a blue lock player, me gushing over a character that has literal crumbs of info available so i’m making this up as i go, oh my god he is literally a bipedal lemon shark

kurona ranze. *sighs dreamily* kurona ranze…

he is literally a magenta lemon shark (*gasp* a strawberry lemonade shark… bro my fucking mind)

you two would literally be the “excuse me, he asked for no pickles” bf x standing behind you at the register bf

i do believe he has a good amount of self-confidence but only speaks when he feels it’s necessary so he’s completely cool with you being the more assertive one in the relationship

he is also so so loyal. one of the most loyal men you’ll ever meet and is just as reliable off the field as he is on field

i feel like he isn’t a big fan of pda so you gotta show him your love when you two are alone cause it feels a lot more special to him. besides you guys prob gotta hide it from all the bltv cameras anyway

when he warms up to the relationship more, he’ll absolutely love physical affection from you even becoming clingy for your attention once you two are alone

you absolutely love doting on him (i mean just look at him) and he clearly enjoys that type of attention from you so much but would never admit it out loud

he is literally the perfect height for easy discreet forehead kisses so you can simply sneak one in quickly and walk off before he can fully process it

it’s so cute how short he is that if you’re able to pick him up, you would (if he’s comfortable with it ofc) but if he gets a leg cramp during training, then that’s the perfect excuse to carry him off the field so he can rest

when he gets flustered, it’s just the most adorable sight ever. his cheeks getting just as pink as his hair and him nervously gritting his teeth, possibly hiding his face in his shirt collar

speaking of his hair if you two share the same dorm room together, you could offer to do his braid for him in the morning before practice or a big match. such a simple yet sweet act of affection that makes his heart flutter when he feels your hand going through his hair

you’ve ever seen those tiktoks of a lemon shark getting nose rubs? yeah it’s exactly like that

don’t get me started on his teeth. he seems pretty neutral about his shark like features so feel free to openly gush about how cute they are to him. he’ll probably let you poke and prod at the pointy ends when he feels like it

he gives me a partner who just randomly bites you affectionately vibes and i’m not just saying that bc of his serrated teeth (it is mainly bc of that) but i can imagine whenever he doesn’t feel like expressing his love verbally, he just gives you a good ol’ chomp right on the meat of your bicep!

the way he repeats his last words (it’s a speech tic idc what anyone says) is also so so endearing that part of his character is just *chefs kiss*

you two were probably pretty subtle about your relationship only bc you two mutually agreed on not being too open about it with the others plus your teammates won’t expect such a pairing anyway.

can you imagine their surprise when they do find out? it probably started out with some of the observant ones noticing how weirdly… ‘close’ you two have gotten. small rumors forming about what possible relationship you have with kurona, mainly thanks to you accidentally slipping out a pet name one time while you were greeting him in front of the team

until all their suspicions are confirmed when one of your teammates spots you two kissing when you thought you were completely inconspicuous and alone

once the secret was out, you two were certainly crowned the cutest boyfriends in blue lock

hello message from me from the future. if you want more male reader content, then check out more of my blog :3

#★ snail.writes ★#kurona ranze #kurona x reader #kurona ranze x reader #blue lock kurona #kurona x male reader #blue lock x male reader #wrote this while listening to mitski (bmamc)#kurona is so texas reznikoff vibes #im being so serious right now #you know sometimes i feel bad about having messy looking posts #but then i remember it’s my blog and i can vomit out as many hcs as i want

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journeyintofiction · 1 year

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Request from anon: Overprotective Shuri where the reader gets kidnapped by Namor

Happy reading :)

I wake up with my head throbbing, my vision blurry, and confused. I try to sit up but feel a searing pain on my right side and crane my head down to see my shirt soaked in blood, and my arms were scratched. In trying to move back to my original position I groaned in pain, which alerted my captor to my sudden awareness.

“Well, well it is about time you woke from your little… nap”, I didn’t need to look over to know who was speaking. Yet upon looking at him I see him playing a game similar to chess by himself.

“Namor”, I say in a bored tone.

He looks at me carefully as if deciding how to approach me without having me lash out in response. “I am not intending on harming you, but your princess-”

I cut him off, “my queen.”

He smirks and continues, “... your queen has not granted me an audience after several attempts to set up a time. Our alliance is new and I am not pleased at the lack of responsiveness on Wakandas part.”

I scoff and turn my head away from him to look off into the distance before saying, “ Do you expect her to be chomping at the bit to see you? After all that has been done, after all YOU have done to her?” I chuckle and turn back to stare at him, “you have no shame.”

At my last comment he looked irritated and replied “An alliance is an alliance, both sides must uphold their end of the bargain regardless of the past discretion.” He shrugged his shoulders as if he was completely unbothered by all the death he caused. “What is it you surface dwellers say? “An eye for an eye.” You killed mine and I returned the favor.”

I look at him hard, “An eye for an eye and the whole world goes blind.”

He looks away from me at that and realizes the chess piece most akin to a king has been backed into a corner. I take the opportunity to rub in his loss, “It seems you have backed yourself into a corner in your game, just as you have with the queen.”

He doesn’t respond verbally but just grunts.

I turn away once more and giggle to myself at the irony. Checkmate bitch.

In Wakanda

“Where IS she Griot?” came the frustrated voice of the queen. After having her entire personal circle search the palace, the market, and the city for Y/N, she was beginning to get agitated.

“She appears to be in Talokan and seems stable with minor injuries”, Griot replies.

Shuri remains unresponsive for a moment, “So Namor took her to Talokan as a pawn for me to come and speak with him?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “it would seem so, but I advise we act fast because Y/N has minor injuries now. However, those minor injuries will turn into serious injuries the longer it isn’t treated.” Everyone collectively hums in agreement and begins a plan of action meanwhile, Shuri is quiet and unmoving.

“I will go and get her immediately.” Shuri says as she turns around to suit up.

“My queen I don't think-” Okoye begins but is abruptly cut off by Shuri.

“Okoye, he has been denied my audience and resorted to drastic measures which will cause tensions to run higher than they already are. I think it is best that I go there alone.”

After mulling it over Nakia and Okoye agree and stress that Shuri must be careful. After agreeing with them, Shuri takes her leave and makes her way to the ocean shore line. As she walked there she kept repeating the mantra in her head that y/n is fine and will be in her arms tonight.

In Talokan

Apparently after sitting for hours the blood loss finally took a toll and I passed out, only to be violently woken by yelling. I quickly open my eyes and try to orient myself which is hard given the blood loss and general fatigue. Before I have the chance to properly see anything I hear Shuri call out “Y/N!”

My vision clears and I see Namor and Shuri glaring at each other and it was obvious they had exchanged words prior to me waking up. As I tried to get up I collapsed and nearly face planted, if it hadn’t been for Shuri being a few feet away to catch me.

“What did you do to her?” Shuri yells in anger at seeing me so drained and weak.

“We did what was necessary to get your attention, we took her but she was quite the fighter and refused to come quietly” Namor replied with a shrug.

Shuri looks at him with disdain, “So you beat my partner into submission?Are you asking for another war?”

At that Namor looks startled and looks at the two of us sharply and replies while pointing at me, “you would start a war for her”.

“She is my partner, who I intend on making my spouse, you would be an idiot to think I wouldn't raise hell for her.”

Before he can reply, I feel Shuri start moving and I see we are moving to the exit of the cave before I pass out once more.

In Wakanda

I wake to the sound of steady beeping and the faint smell incense burning. I turn my head and I am immediately hit with pain at the movement and moan.

I hear someone rush over to me and gently move my head back to a more neutral position. I squint my eyes open and see Okoye standing over me and Nakia sitting up in the chair beside my bed. Okoye and Nakia look worried, tired, and stressed.

“How do you feel? Are you in pain anywhere?” Okoye quickly asked before I could say anything.

I nod, “my head hurts and my side is throbbing.”

“You had a concussion and multiple lacerations on your right side” Okoye responded sounding upset.

All the events of the last 24 hours came flooding back and I remember my injuries, where I was taken, who took me, and getting rescued. But, anything after leaving that cave is a blank hole in my memory.

“What happened after Shuri came and got me?”

Nakia is the first to respond, “due to blood loss from your untreated injuries you passed out on the way here. Shuri took you to the lab and the three of us helped patch you up”.

“Where is she now?” I ask confused at her not being here.

“She stepped out a few minutes before you woke up to get food for you because Griot said you should wake up within the hour” Okoye stated with a small smile.

They still looked quite upset at the state I was in so I tried to cheer them up. “Don’t look so down guys, I’m a little beat up but I’m not dead…yet.”

They look at each other then look at me with an eyebrow raised and the three of us quietly chuckle.

“Has she woken yet-“ Shuri asks as she makes her way down the stairs. Her sentence dies off when she sees the three of us staring at her.

Okoye and Nakia mention they are required elsewhere and leave us alone to speak. After the door softly clicks shut she walks over to me takes my hand and looks like she is gonna cry.

“My love I’m fine, just a little worse for wear” I say and try to smile.

She shakes her head and quietly says “He took you from me as a way to get what he wanted. I promised to protect and be there for you and you were stolen right from our borders.”

“Well I’m fine now and I know he won’t try this again given that you both seemed to come to an agreement, albeit a tense one.”

She nods apprehensively and intertwines our fingers with her thumb rubbing circles on my hand. “I am NEVER letting you go any without me ever again.”

I roll my eyes at the proclamation and give an exasperated sigh, “what ever makes you feel better…wait, does that mean we shower together too?”

Shuri face palms, “good grief woman, why is your head always in the gutter.”

Note: to the Anon who requested this, I’m so sorry it took me a few days to complete it. I have finals coming up so I have been busy, but please send in more requests and I will get them done as soon as I can :)

#shuri x reader #shuri #wakanda forever #shuri udaku #shuri x y/n

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twisted-wonderland-shenanigans · 8 months

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Twisted Wonderland Marine Biologist AU Snippet

Hey everyone! I'm still okay, just been dealing with real life stuff and discovered I may have accidentally put myself through a burnout even when I was trying to avoid it. =w=

I've been working through it by focusing on more personal projects and other fandoms, and I've also been focusing more on my physical and mental health lately. I'm getting better every day though, and I'm feeling good about stuff!

Anyway, I know I haven't posted anything in a while since my last update, so I wanted to tide everyone over with a snippet I had written back in May for the Marine Biologist AU. I was saving this for when I finally reached that part of the story and got it off the ground, buuuuut...honestly, it's too adorable for me NOT to share!!!

Reminder that in this and the mermaid AU, there is a communication barrier where humans and mermaids cannot speak the same language. In the Marine Biologist AU though, the boys can understand some if not most words, so they have nothing but time to try and listen to the researchers talk and learn how to speak the language.

So...what happens when our little researcher Yuu just so happens to drop an apple in the tank holding a certain Guppy and gorgeous Betta Fish?

////--------------////

"Whoa, geez!” Yuu squawked, their hand just barely touching the apple as it bounced off the grating before falling into the water with a ‘plop’. Sighing, Yuu said, “Well, there goes part of my lunch.”

One moment the apple was bobbing along in the waves, the next…a hand reached out and grabbed it, a familiar adorable face emerging from the water to examine his catch. “Oh, hi, Guppy!” Yuu called out, happy to see the smaller mermaid. Violet floated nearby, though it was clear that he was watching them both with that intense gaze of his. “Sorry, that’s not a fish. It’s an apple.”

At that he perked up so fast that Yuu almost thought he’d gotten whiplash, adorable doe eyes looking shocked and amazed as he squeaked at them.

“D…do you know what an apple is?” Yuu asked, earning another insistent chirp from him before they pointed at the fruit clutched in his hands. “Apple. Ahp…pull…”

He looked between them and the fruit, looking so confused for a moment. Then, he held it out and—pointing at it and himself—he spoke and said, “Ahp…ull…Eah…pul…Eahpul!”

Yuu was floored as they stared, not sure if they’re feeling amazement or pure disbelief or both as Guppy continued his game of charades. It was as if he was trying to tell them…

“Is…Ehpul…Eh…pel…Epel…your name?” Yuu asked.

“Yeeee!” ‘Epel’ squealed, practically squirming in place and looking absolutely elated as he nodded enthusiastically. “Epel! Epel!”

Even as he continued chattering in the strange language while still repeating his new ‘name’, Yuu found themselves hardly able to move as they tried to process this new development. Had…they been able to understand Yuu this whole time and just…didn’t know how to communicate back? Or is this a new development brought on by their continuous interactions with the mermaids?

Once he had calmed down, Epel had turned his attention back to the apple and curiously sniffed it. Then—before they could think to try and get it back—he had taken a bite out of it and chewed. A moment later his eyes grew wide, the ear fins wiggling as a wide (chubby cheeked) smile bloomed on his face and he let out a high-pitched warble.

“Huh…? Do…you guys actually eat fruit?” Yuu uttered in amazement as Epel chomped away at the fruit faster than they could blink, practically swallowing the core whole before licking the juice off his fingers. A moment later he lunged up onto the deck, peeking over the edge as he sniffed around like a cat on the hunt. “Whoa! Slow down there! I don’t have any more apples if that’s what you’re looking for.”

Once he seemed to realize this, he looked up at Yuu and-

'Oh no...those are the cutest puppy eyes I've ever seen!!' Yuu thought. 'How does a mermaid know how to do the puppy eyes?!'

"Ahpul...app...le," Epel chirped. "Apple..? Apple!"

"O-okay, okay! I'll go and get more apples for you!"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland marine biologist au #twst marine biologist au #I had so much fun writing this scene back in May and really wanted to share it earlier #I hope everyone enjoys it nonetheless!#epel felmier #pomefiore

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seresinsbabe · 1 year

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Dream of Me: Chapter 2

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x fem!reader

Synopsis: Jake made the dumb mistake cheating on the only girl he every really loved. Fast forward a few years, he's a Navy pilot and you're now a famous singer.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Angst, mentions of STI’s, mentions of cheating. Nothing generally bad this chapter.

Chapter Songs: None

Word Count: 2.3k

THIS BLOG IS 18+ MINORS DNI

I do not consent to having any of my work shared on any other platform. If you see any rendition of my works on another site know that it has been posted without my permission.

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

When you walked out of the door you thought that it would be the last you ever saw of Jake Seresin. He was now the enemy. Only of use to you as a muse. The last place you ever expected to see him was your concert.

Now you couldn’t get those green eyes out of your mind.

Every time you closed your eyes it was like you were right back there. Staring at him, singing to him and hoping he felt every ounce of pain that you had felt. If you didn’t know any better you would have thought you saw remorse in his eyes.

But you did know better.

Jake Seresin didn’t feel bad for what he had done – only that he had been caught. Or at least that’s what you told yourself. You had convinced yourself that he didn’t care about what he had done because it made it easier. Or at least you thought it did.

“So he was really there?” Julie’s, your sister, voice came through the phone. As soon as you got a moment to breathe you facetimed her. Making sure you were alone for the rest of the night in your hotel suite. The empty half of the bed was taken up by all your comfort foods; a pint of Ben and Jerry’s Phish Food ice cream, nacho cheese bugles, fried mushrooms, mozzarella sticks and crab rangoon, and of course a bottle of Merlot. An odd combination of foods that your trainer would surely yell at you for having. Shortly after it had all arrived you realized you might have gone overboard, but dammit you were upset.

Who the fuck did he think he was coming to your concert? Standing that close to the stage, close enough you had been able to make out his features. There was no way he didn’t know it was your concert. It wasn’t like you were some up and comer, you were selling out venues worldwide, everyone knew who you were. And he had the gall to show up and look you dead in the fucking eye? The same way he had when you caught him with his pants around his ankles and his dick in a pussy that wasn’t yours.

“Yeah,” you chomped on a mozzarella stick as you spoke. “I mean so close I could have touched him.” The tips of your fingers tingled at the idea of touching him while your mind cringed at the thought. The only way you would want to touch Jake was with your fist to his face.

Julie watched as you stuffed a fried mushroom in your mouth and then washed it down with a swig of wine straight from the bottle. “You’re clearly taking it well.” You shot a look at the sarcastic tone in her voice and flipped her off through your laptop camera.

“Act like you would take it any better.” You loved Jake. At one point in time you had wanted a family and a future with him. up until the very bitter end, he had been perfect. That should have been the sign that it was too good to be true.

Julie just rolled her eyes and picked up her phone, letting you stew for a moment. Only you couldn’t stand the quiet, not in this moment. There were so many emotions you were feeling that you needed to get out so you just started talking.

“I mean…why was he even there? Was he with his girlfriend? Did he end up with that slut? I know you keep tabs on him.” You continued to babble on, shoving a different piece of food in your mouth every so often. Like the good big sister she was, Julie just let you talk. She knew this was what you needed, to just word vomit over facetime with her until you couldn’t anymore. It was something you had done since you were little, before you started writing music.

How long you had been rambling on and on, asking questions that were answered only by short phrases as your sister scrolled her phone, you weren’t sure. You were mid question when the message from Julia popped up on your computer and phone screen simultaneously. It was a link to a tabloid article. Immediately your stomach started churning, but you shakily clicked the link anyway.

Soul Song: Could this man be the heartbreaking mystery muse?

Fuck. You knew someone would speculate, but you hadn’t expected it to happen this fast. Since the concert ended you had made an effort to avoid social media, trying to avoid this exact situation. You weren’t exactly in the right headspace to deal with his face being plastered all over every media platform. With everything you had you hoped for a juicier story would pop up and people would forget about this come next week.

Something told you that you weren’t that lucky.

“Maybe this is some sort of divine intervention? Y’know like fate stepping in.” Your nose scrunched up and you gagged at your sister’s suggestion.

There was no fucking way that fate was trying to push you back towards Jake. After everything you went through? If that was the case the universe was some sort of twisted bitch.

The facetime lasted only a few minutes longer before your brother-in-law snatched your sister’s attention away. Which didn’t bother you, you were glad that at least one of you had found love. Of course it might have stung less if she hadn’t gotten engaged a mere two weeks after you’d caught who was supposed to be the love of your life balls deep in another woman.

You sink underneath the covers, cocooning yourself in the crisp white hotel duvet while continuing to stuff your mouth with the depression snacks. During the facetime you hadn’t paid much attention to what was playing on the TV, but now you were acutely aware of the fact that How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days was playing. Against your better judgment you didn’t change the channel and by the end of it there were fat, silent tears rolling down your cheeks.

Seeing Jake had brought back a whole slew of feelings and memories you had only let come through in your music. Now your mind was forcing you to remember them. The dam you’d built was starting to break and you were doing everything you could to patch it back up. You couldn’t even find it in you to write, which was what you should have been doing. Getting it all out on paper, but your body wouldn’t let you. You just kept crying on the bed surrounded by food that was bound to give you heartburn tomorrow.

When you had fallen asleep you weren’t too sure, but you knew you had fallen asleep crying. That much was evident by the massive dehydration headache you woke with. The pain was only exacerbated by the ringing of your cell phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” the voice of your manager came through. “The venue had a water main break so we’re postponing the concert until tomorrow.” You groaned. This was never fun. Canceling shows, or even just postponing them, always sucked. You hated disappointing your fans, but this was one of those instances where you knew you couldn’t prevent it. There wasn’t another venue available that was big enough to host your concert tonight.

“Okay,” as much as it sucked it was probably a good thing. You needed a day to cope with the events of the night before. “Keep me updated.” Martin promised he would, just like he always did and then hung up.

You were slow to get up due to the pounding in your head, but that would soon be remedied by the extra strength ibuprofen in your suitcase. Even though you’d only crawled right back in bed after taking it.

For a while you stared up at the ceiling. Not really wanting to look on your phone and see what the tabloids had come up with now. You knew eventually you would have to address it. Honestly you were surprised Martin hadn’t brought it up on the phone call, but maybe that was due to the more pressing matter at hand. Whatever the reason, you were thankful, because honestly you didn’t know what to say.

You had kept Jake’s identity underwraps because as much as you hated him, you didn’t want this to affect him. Fans could be ruthless and they wouldn’t stop at Jake. They could go after his family, too, and they didn’t deserve to be targeted because Jake was a grade A fucking asshole. Revealing his identity wasn’t something you wanted to do anytime soon, but you weren’t sure you would have that choice now. You could only hope that Martin and your PR firm would manage to keep this thing at bay.

Ignoring your phone was something you could only do for so long. Especially knowing you needed to check it for updates about the venue. At least that was the excuse you told yourself as you surfed through the tabloids. All of them had different theories about the man in the crowd. Before you knew it you were deep diving on Jake’s sister’s instagram. You still kept in touch with them, mostly through social media. Though you never asked about Jake and they never brought him up.

When the whole thing had gone down they were just as, if not more pissed than you. His mom had cried and both Olivia and Kate nearly cut him off. They’d loved you like their own and fully supported you leaving Jake. It was why you still kept in touch with them, because despite it all, you did love them like family.

You didn’t even realize you were calling until you heard her voice, soft and sweet with that slight Texas accent that you’d lost over the years of living in California.

“Kate? Hi, how are you?” It had been way too long since you’d actually called Kate. Most of your catching up was done via instagram messages.

To say that Kate was surprised to see your name pop up on her screen wouldn’t be too off the mark. She had seen the articles with the images of her brother and you. Though she had expected Jake to reach out to her first. Not that she wasn’t happy to hear from you. She did miss you, but she understood why you didn’t come around anymore. What Jake had done to you was downright disgusting and for a good while Kate hadn’t even wanted to claim him as her brother.

Kate knew that Jake still loved you. She knew before he admitted it to her. Throwing himself into his military career was her little brother’s way of distracting himself from the pain. Jake had only thrown himself more into work when your career took off and your face was around every corner.

“I’m guessin’ you didn’t call to catch up?” You could hear the smile in Kate’s voice. It was oddly comforting, more comforting than what an ex-boyfriend’s sister should be. “So, ask away, I’ll tell you everything you want to know.”

You didn’t even know where to start. Actually you weren’t even sure you wanted to start. Maybe this phone call had been a bad idea. You should just make up some sort of excuse and hang up…no. Kate would see right through that. Finally you willed yourself to speak, not bothering to really think about the question you were asking, just getting something out.

“Why was he there?”

“Not sure, didn’t even know he was goin’ and I haven’t heard from him since.” Okay…so that didn’t really give you any answers. What answers you were looking for you still weren’t sure of, but you wanted to know something. “He is stationed in San Diego, maybe it was a last minute thing?” That still didn’t explain why he went.

Jake hadn’t even bothered to reach out and really apologize to you, not that you really expected him to. He had no reason to show up to your concert. No reason to get tickets that close. Even if it had been a last minute invite by a friend, why would he accept a ticket to your concert?

“Did he ever admit that he was wrong?”

“Yeah.” The sound that left you was halfway between a sigh and hum. You knew you should believe that, but so much of you was still holding onto the narrative that he didn’t think he was wrong. That Jake was the stereotypical cheater who only cared about his own happiness.

The next question fell out like it was vomit.

“Is he seeing anyone?”

You didn’t know why you wanted the answer. It didn’t matter. Jake was your past and you were determined to keep him there. If he was seeing someone it wasn’t your business.

“If you call putting his dipstick to good use seeing people, then yeah I guess.” The softest laugh left you at her way of phrasing it. Leave it to Kate to bring a little bit of humor to the situation.

The two of you talked a little longer. Less about Jake and more about how everyone was doing. Thanks to social media you knew Olivia had just had another baby, her third, and that Kate was due to pop in little over a month. It was therapeutic, catching up and reminiscing with her. It gave you a feel-good sense of nostalgia.

“Does he still lo-” you stopped yourself before the question was fully out of your mouth, but Kate knew what you were going to ask.

“I think that’s something you should ask him yourself.” She said it as though talking to Jake would be easy. As if it was something you even wanted to do. Maybe Kate knew it was what you needed.

@cherrycola27@clancycucumber230@bradshawseresinbabe@brittanyovens@rolisinha@phoenixssugarbaby@deaddumblbumble@caitsymichelle13@whateverbagman@avengersgirllorianna@izz-ayes-world@novagreen04@percysaidnever@leafsfan02@Anurst@rhirhikingston@ahopelessromanticwritersworld@flrboyd@mrsjaderogers@alldaysdreamer@gabicalicota@jstarr86@everythingregardingmarvel@djs8891@amortentiadrops@princess76179@shanimallina87@rainy-day-lady@maaarscorner@chaiandgoodvibes@swteener@sveetnn@xoxabs88xox@filmflux

#top gun au #top gun fic #hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin angst #jake seresin au #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader

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fog-and-rust · 9 months

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Hogwarts Legacy Incorrect Quotes (feat. my Hufflepuff!MC, Ellie)

Sebastian *addressing Ellie and Leander*: Why are you friends?

Leander and Ellie [who are cousins]: *in unison* Poor decisions on our grandparents’ part.

***

Ellie: Professor Fig likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe I can be both.

***

[In Feldcroft catacomb, after Sebastian killed Solomon]

Ellie *chasing Sebastian*: GET BACK HERE YOU IDIOT!

Sebastian: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

***

Ellie: Amit, say something in Gobbledegook again. It's the entire source of my serotonin during these trying times.

Amit: *sigh* Only for you, my star. Ooooo Baaagaaaaahhh Leooo...

***

Ellie: The saying “it is better to beg forgiveness than to ask permission” no longer applies to Sebastian and Garreth.

***

Amit: I swear to Merlin I'm the only one here with a braincell.

Imelda, Leander, Garreth, Poppy, and Ellie: ALL HAIL the keeper of the sacred braincell!

***

Zenobia, gesturing to Ellie: Lucan, look what you did! You made Mom upset!

Lucan: Mom, please don’t cry, we’re sorry!

Zenobia: We’re sorry Mom... :(

Ellie, near tears: I DON’T REMEMBER GIVING BIRTH TO ANY OF YOU!

***

Leander, feeling down: I have the sex appeal of an Arithmancy textbook!

Ellie: I don’t know, I’ve never met anyone that opened an Arithmancy textbook and didn’t say “fuck me”.

***

Hogwarts students (and everyone else): If we’re in trouble, just throw Ellie at the problem, and hope for the best.

***

Ellie: I don’t remember that.

Amit: Do you remember that night last week when you jumped from Astronomy tower and cast Levioso on yourself?

Ellie: ... No.

Leander: Okay, do you remember when you were chased by Chinese Chomping Cabbages around the school?

Ellie: Not especially, no.

Poppy: It was in between those two things.

***

[Some responses to being bitten by Chinese Chomping Cabbage]

Ominis: Rude.

Natty: That's fair.

Leander: Not again.

Sebastian: *bites back*

***

Leander: What did you all do?

Poppy: …

Sebastian: …

Natty: …

Garreth: …

Ellie: …

Amit: You’re not in trouble, we just need to know if we have to lie to the teachers again or not.

Ominis: And if I have to use my relations to save you from being expelled … or being sent to Azkaban.

***

Ellie: You are irrationally angry 365 days a year.

Sebastian: Well, that’s just your personal opinion, I don’t have anger issues. Ominis, do you think I have anger issues?

Ominis: Well, I wouldn’t really call it an issue. An issue is something you can fix.

***

Poppy: They... well, I wouldn't call it inheritance per se. What do you call it when you kill someone and get their stuff?

Leander: Um, murder???

Sebastian: Adventuring!

Ellie: Teacher’s assignment.

***

Leander: We need to distract them.

Ellie: Leave it to me.

Ellie: Centaurs have six limbs and are therefore insects. Discuss.

Poppy & Amit: *immediately begin arguing*

***

[The squad is playing a team sport]

Poppy: Are you upset you don’t get to be on the same team as Imelda?

Garreth: Have you ever played a game with Imelda?

Poppy: No…

Garreth: Have you ever been trapped in a cage with a graphorn?

[Meanwhile, on the other side of the field]

Imelda, chasing Leander: I SAID FASTER! DO YOU KNOW WHAT THE WORD “FASTER” MEANS? IT MEANS MORE FAST!!!!

***

Ellie: *running to the Summoner's Court* Amit just said he doesn’t love me anymore!

Leander & Poppy: What?!

Amit: *following her* I did not say that. I just said that I won’t help with the riddle to Ravenclaw common room just so she can punch Duncan in the face.

#hogwarts legacy #incorrect quotes #hogwarts legacy incorrect quotes #hogwarts legacy mc #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #leander prewett #amit thakkar #garreth weasley #imelda reyes #ominis gaunt #zenobia noke #lucan brattleby #duncan hobhouse #natsai onai

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allmoshnobrain · 4 months

Text

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐫

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

part 26 of ? | masterpost

word count: 2085 | ao3 link | fic's playlist

I let out a quiet, pained noise, frightened and hurt like some scared critter stumbling into the lion's lair. James's eyes flicked up, catching mine for the briefest fraction of a second, shock and regret dancing in his blue gaze before I pivoted and beelined it out through the kitchen door.

✦ summary: Despite choosing to remain by Dave's side, Nore finds that getting over her feelings for James is harder than she thought it would be.

✦ on this chapter: dave mustaine x female!oc, james hetfield x female! oc, oc is cliff's cousin, +18, language, slice of life, angst, love triangle, drinking, recreational drug use, jealousy

✧ you got me wrapped around your finger, do you have to let it linger? ✧

The guys' last weekend in Los Angeles rolled around real quick, kicking off on a slightly chilly Saturday that practically begged for an afternoon tucked under the covers. We cooked up our own version of coziness; Cliff threw an invite my way to chill at Mike's place, puffing on some smokes and sipping drinks while diving into a stack of horror movies Kirk had snagged.

Running into James again was just about as awkward as I'd braced myself for. He gave me a somewhat normal greeting, but the turmoil in his eyes had my heart doing an uncomfortable squeeze. To top it off, he had Pat in tow, showing up at Mike's with this big grin, hand-in-hand with James, their intertwined fingers betraying a closeness I'd rather not have known existed.

I tried to brush that off, though. After all, I had made my choice, hadn't I? Coming back home later that night, I knew I'd land in the comfort of Dave's arms, and whatever leftover turmoil would get washed out like rainwater. With time, the pain and sadness in James' eyes would likely fade. And perhaps, we could go back to being just good friends, sweeping those stolen moments from that autumn under the rug like they never happened.

We kicked back in Mike's basement, popping those tapes into his brand new VHS player. Kirk and Lars posted up on the carpet, Kirk sprawled out with his head in Lars's lap, dropping the occasional comment about film quality or some backstage scoop. Cliff, Mike, and I settled onto one of the couches, passing around a joint, while James and Pat claimed the other one. As the beer stash ran dry, a pizza got ordered, and I started to chill out as the mix of booze and weed took hold.

We all glanced up at the doorbell's ring — probably the pizza delivery. James hopped up to get it, trotting up the stairs with a beer in hand. Pat eyed him for a sec, then decided to trail along. Mike sparked up another joint, which I happily took a hit from before passing it over to Cliff.

"Hey, did you guys know this movie set caught fire during filming?" Kirk tossed out as scenes from The Exorcist flickered on the screen. "They even brought in a priest to bless the joint afterward."

"Wow, spooky," Lars chimed in, sarcastically. Kirk nudged him hard. "Hey!" Lars laughed.

"Hey, Lars, toss me another beer," I casually asked, absentmindedly eyeing the bottom of my empty bottle.

"Ah, I think we're tapped out. Time for a run upstairs."

"I got it," Cliff mumbled, his words a bit slurred as he attempted to stand.

"I'll roll with you then," I chimed in, getting up and stretching with a sigh. "Might as well grab a round for everyone."

The two of us hauled ourselves up the stairs, the steps feeling way trickier to navigate than they should in my slightly buzzed state. Once we hit the kitchen, Cliff cracked open the fridge, hunting down the beer bottles.

I shot my brows up with a grin when I spotted the two pizza boxes chilling on the table, my stomach churning with post-smoking and drinking hunger. I popped open the box, snagged a slice, and chomped down, letting out a satisfied sigh as the warm cheese exploded in my mouth, eyes shutting in a little moan of delight.

My tiny moment of food ecstasy got cut short by the distant hum of laughter. I blinked, curious, realizing I hadn't laid eyes on James and Pat since they jetted upstairs for the pizzas. But if the pizzas were in the kitchen, where the hell were they?

Looking back, maybe tracking down the muffled chuckles echoing down the hallway was a lousy move. But I was riding a bit higher on intoxication than I expected, and a self-destructive curiosity just started creeping into my chest. I crept up to the living room door, halting in silence when I caught sight of James and Pat holding court in the center of the room, huddled up and chatting in hushed tones.

I don't know what hit me first, tearing my heart into a million pieces; maybe it was the way Pat's eyes lit up, her hands resting on James' chest while he gripped her waist, the phantom memory of his fingers on my hips stirring uncomfortably in my chest. Or maybe it was the way they talked and chuckled, clearly lost in their own little world. Or, what the hell, it could even have been the gentle kiss he laid on her lips, sprinkled with sweet nothings meant just for her.

I gulped down the cool evening air and shut my eyes, tears hanging on and refusing to fall. My hands shook a bit as I slapped them on the porch frame, the wood cold against my skin. I jumped when the door creaked open again, but it wasn't James; Cliff's worried eyes locked onto mine, sadness creeping in at the sorry sight I must've been.

"Cliff..." I said, my voice shaky and tearful before he stepped up, wrapping me in a solid hug.

I buried my face in his chest, letting out heavy sobs as tears flowed down my face, like a dam that had held back way too much. Cliff just held on, running his fingers through my hair as he kept me close. As awful as it all was, I felt relieved as well — like those tears were letting go of some of the crap I'd been carrying around for weeks. When I finally eased up, I pulled back with a sigh, tears still rolling down as I sniffled, trying to wipe them away with my fingertips.

“Ah, shit. Sorry, I totally soaked you," I mumbled, my voice all choked up as I noticed the tear stains on Cliff's shirt. He snorted.

“Screw that, Nore. Want a beer?” He lifted one hand, and I spotted he was carrying a plastic bag with the beers he’d grabbed from the fridge. I nodded, thankful. He plunked the bag down, grabbed one for me and one for himself, and we leaned against the porch railing. “So, spill it. What the hell happened?"

"You know what happened," I mumbled, holding back a sob. I took a swig of the cold beer, the bitter kick helping me calm down a bit. Cliff sighed.

"It's James, huh?"

"What do you think?"

"I don't get it," he said, and I looked up, raising my eyebrows when our eyes connected. "If you're into him, why not figure things out? You know he likes you too."

"Apparently, not that much," I grumbled, and he snorted.

"Nore, no offense, but if the girl I liked kept turning me down, I'd probably try to move on too. Maybe not jump into something else... but I don't know if I'd keep pushing after getting rejected as much as he has with you."

“I... “ my voice broke, and I sighed. "Cliff, I'm with Dave. I made my choice. He needs me... I won't bail on him. Not for James, not for anyone. But that doesn't mean I don't feel..." I stopped, the lump in my throat preventing me from talking. Cliff sighed before pulling me into a tight hug.

"It'll pass." He kissed my hair, and I nodded.

"I know."

"If it helps, I find her damn annoying. And I doubt those two will last more than three months." He murmured, clearly trying to make me feel better. I chuckled softly.

"Think we can still be friends after this?"

“Totally, Nore. Just gotta figure out where you both stand. But if you've made your call... Well, he'll have to get that, babe. Just give him some space, and cut yourself some slack too."

"If you weren't Bay Area's best bass player, I'd swear you missed your calling as a shrink," I teased, and he burst into laughter. I shot him a look, a soft, affectionate grin playing on my lips. It was reassuring to know that even in the middle of this mess, Cliff would always be there for me. "Thanks, Cliff."

"No worries. We got each other's backs, right?" He grinned and messed up my hair. I let out a soft laugh. "Plus, no one messes with my fave cousin."

"I'm your only cousin." I quipped, echoing his usual comeback, and he grinned.

"Exactly. Hey, you're not bailing, right? Wanna head back inside? Kirk might think we hated the flicks."

"Well, he wouldn't be totally off the mark," I swiped away the last of my tears with the back of my hand but made my way to the kitchen door with a sigh. "But let's go back."

As we stepped in, I noticed that James and Pat had vanished from the living room. No clue where James had wandered off to, and honestly, I wasn't itching to find out for the first time in forever. I paused for a beat, my eyes lingering on Mike's phone before a sudden determination took over.

"Cliff," I called, and he shot me a questioning look. "You go ahead; I'll catch up, alright? Got a call to make."

"Sure thing. You sure you don't want me to stick around?"

"Nah, all good. Seriously," I reassured him. He gave my face a once-over before nodding, taking the beers back with him to the basement.

I grabbed the phone, pressing it against my ear, hesitating for just a moment before punching in the number I knew by heart, even though it had been ages since I dialed it.

"Hello?" My mom's voice came through, causing my heart to skip a beat.

I was aware that this number, her personal office line, was the only one she personally picked up. No assistants or housekeepers screening calls. But despite that, a weird tension crawled over me at the sound of her voice. I paused for a sec before diving in:

"Hey, Mom. It's me."

“Eleanore?” she inquired, surprise coming through her voice. “What's going on? Did something happen?"

"Nah, everything's okay," I murmured, my voice slightly shaky. "I just... I..."

“Are you okay, dear? Were you crying, by any chance?”

“No, I'm fine. I'm fine,” I sighed, closing my eyes. "Actually, I called about that school offer."

"Oh? Tell me what's on your mind," I could feel my mother's tone of voice instantly changing, shifting to the interested and sharp tone she used during her negotiations.

"I'm taking it. But I want to focus on art, Mom. Not law or business. Just art."

"Alright. I'll have Alice look into the best art schools in the state, maybe even the whole country. We can explore international options if you're interested. You'll get a top-notch art education. But you remember your end of the deal, right?"

"Getting involved in the family business, understanding the ropes, so I can handle things when you and Dad can't. Yeah, I remember," I confirmed in a low voice, aware that this was the most challenging part of the deal.

Business never floated my boat, especially the whole legal operations deal with my family's law firm. But the payoff was too sweet to pass up. And maybe a major life change was exactly what I needed.

"Good call," my mom chimed in, and I could practically picture her smiling. "I'll talk with your father. You'll come back for Christmas, right? We can discuss it in more detail then. Feel free to bring your... Boyfriend along if you want."

The rest of the conversation was a bit of a blur. I knew I'd just made a call that would steer my life for the next few years. No clue if I'd regret it or what kind of person it'd turn me into. But I would do anything to beat the heartache gnawing at my chest. Maybe I was running away. Maybe I just wanted to ditch the sadness.

Perhaps I just wanted to wipe clean the pained look James and I exchanged moments ago. Maybe I wanted to forget that he chose not to come after me, not to offer me any comfort.

But did any of it really matter?

✧ if you'd like to be tagged on the next parts, let me know and I'll add you to the tag list! ❤ ✧

tag list: @killazilla777

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djwiththejd · 6 months

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The Fall of The House of Usher (2023) Episode 2

I'm back, back in the New York Groove ~

Like I said before, I'm writing this because I need a hobby. I do feel like after sleeping on everything I typed up for with episode 1 that I can do with a reorganization of sorts. I simply cannot point out every one liner, clue, and reference to something obscure in this show without developing carpal tunnel.

So, with that, I'm going to change the layout of how I type up this episode and see if I like it better. At the moment of writing this, I have already finished Episode 2 and I'm chomping at the bit to write about it. SO without further ado, some analysis I was too tired to bring up in my first post.

Firstly, once I saw that The Murder in The Rue Morgue had its own episode title, I got the gist that each episode would be focused around the death of each sibling. I sincerely hope by now that this isn't a spoiler however, as the entire family has to die in order for the fall of the House of Usher to actually come to fruition. Luckily everyone in the family except for possible Lenore and Juno are shit people. So anyhow, the 8 episode layout where Episode 1 begins with the introduction, six episodes in the middle each center around the death of a sibling, and then the last episode will probably be reserved for the death of the twins. What's great is that you can assume that structure is what is intended and still be surprised by plot twists and modernization elements to make the story new, fun, and exciting. It's the journey, blah, blah, blah.

ALSO, I've never seen any other piece of Mike Flanagan's works, so this is my first time delving into a horror anthology. I am sure I liked Hill House things when it first came out bc people were very funny about it on here, but I was too much of a chicken to watch it.

Anyhow, now we move onto the next bit, background and plot!

So first, I have not read The Masque of the Red Death. I am literally just copy/pasting the first paragraph of the plot summary from Wikipedia, hyperlinks and all:

The story takes place at the castellated abbey of the "happy and dauntless and sagacious" Prince Prospero. Prospero and 1,000 other nobles have taken refuge in this walled abbey to escape the Red Death, a terrible plague with gruesome symptoms that has swept over the land. Victims are overcome by "sharp pains", "sudden dizziness", and "profuse bleeding at the pores", and die within half an hour. Prospero and his court are indifferent to the sufferings of the population at large; they intend to await the end of the plague in luxury and safety behind the walls of their secure refuge, having welded the doors shut to ensure no one enters or leaves.

Unfortunately, the episode does not start with our young prince Prospero. It starts with a flashback of Dupin in 1979 taking a photo of an exhumed and empty grave. At this point Dupin's plaque titles his as "Junior Fraud Investigator," and apparently isn't a police officer. The most important bit here is how Dupin pushes back against his boss and the boss asks him: "Say you win. If you could catch them all, take all of it, all the greed, the foulness, the rot in the world and sit down across from it, what would you say?" and then it immediately cuts to Dupin in that dilapidated childhood home of Roderick and Madeline Usher, and Dupin gets to ask "Was it ever going to be enough?" There's more there, but the callous way Roderick responds indicates that the mask has come up again briefly. He's defensive about Ligodone, he's defensive about his wife, he refuses to explain why there is no number of dollars in the world that will make him and Madeline feel satisfied with their success.

It was also important that in the past, Dupin tells his boss that "This world needs changing." This is the same ideal that the twins have, but the intent and the implication behind those same words these people said at approximately the same time culminates in them leading very different lives. For now, that's all I have to say on the matter.

Now, moving on. Perrie's corpse appears behind Dupin this time. This time Dupin does turn around but sees nothing, so we can assume that the corpses are just visions. The ghosts of Roderick's past coming back to haunt him, quite literally.

So when we first see Perrie in this episode, he's introduced in bed surrounded by naked bodies, sex toys, etc. I'm sure it is meant at first sight to shock the senses, but personally I couldn't stop thinking about how we are visually seeing Perrie being "boxed in" this hedonistic cage of his own making. This is Perrie's own bed, the people he chose to spend his time with, but as we see in the episode when we look at how his family interacts with him and how Verna speaks to him, Perrie has basically put himself into a box of his own deadly sin, Lust. In this vein, I wonder if I can do an analysis of each child as one of the deadly sins, omitting Pride. Pride has historically been seen as the worst sin, or the highest sin that brings forth all the other sins, so if I did do this analysis, I would immediately take Pride out of the equation only because I would ascribe it to the twins as the head of the family and as the parents of all of the other sins. I haven't watched the other episodes yet so I'm not sure if this analysis will keep up going forward but for now I have a general idea which sin I would ascribe to which child.

So moving on with the plot, Perrie wakes up and comes out to two people in his apartment and I recognized one of them! Molly Quinn, famously known for being Richard Castle's daughter and also the daughter of the other RV owning family in We're the Millers. She's a fond part of my childhood, and I'm loving her haircut. However, we see a weird, almost violent display of power when Perrie thinks his expensive eggs were eaten by his "friends" and I put friends in parentheses because I'm not entirely sure yet if Perrie does see these people as his friends, lovers, or even equals.

They discuss disappointment at Roderick vetoing supporting the Prospero club venture he had pitched, and Perrie says it might have been an overall good thing. He gets a call from Frederick, lovingly saved in his phone as Dickwad. Apparently he's supposed to be shadowing Frederick, but as soon as he walks in, his immaturity and naïveté derails the entire meeting with the Feds over Fortunato's poor environmental business practices. This enrages Freddie, and he accuses Perrie of being the mole informant. The continuous bit that Freddie struggles to differentiate between the two is actually quite funny, especially because Perrie has just shown his ass to not be the brightest bulb in the bunch, but even he can keep those two different concepts straight in his head. Freddie really says some demoralizing shit to Perrie though, you can tell he sees himself above the other children, similarly to how Tamerlane's musings about the informant likely being "one of the bastards" from the first episode. Just because Roderick says you're family doesn't necessarily show that the children saw it the same way even when paternity is established.

Perrie lays out the details for the sex and drug-fueled club event to his two lackeys, and Verna briefly pops up on the roof of the building before Perrie looks back and sees that she's gone. We cut to the Rue Morgue, and Victorine and Alessandra lose another monkey. Victorine takes it hard and Alessandra tells her the last thing they should be talking about right now is human trials. However, we see that she's lying through her ass to her father, who is fast tracking this process because he's the person who needs that surgery.

Cut to Perrie asking Leo for drugs. So many drugs. Leo has funny quip in heres, but he's important because he tells Perrie that he's "better than a dealer, smarter than a DJ," and that "this is beneath you." Leo sees potential in Perrie that I saw a glimpse of when he was crunching numbers and setting entry fees for the guests. It is a shame that Perrie doesn't choose to listen to him in the end. And yes, another funny viagra quip.

We cut to Bill T. Wilson's...workout video? So that's what BILLT nation is. I will say the half-confused, half-concerned, half-disgusted, half-almost fascinated face Camille has is priceless here. We then cut to her watching a testimony from an alleged whistleblower at the Fortunato trial. Camille's willingness to find something about this whistleblower if there isn't anything to find speaks a lot about how she is as a PR manager. Ruthless, merciless, and focused on the ends to justify the means. The informant issue is eating at her because it was a factor she could not see or control. She zeroes in on Vic's clinical trial because she thinks it stinks, and we know it does, but she's got some ulterior motive that we don't know yet. The guy was admittedly fair in asking what Vic did to her, but it was one of those things you keep inside and never voice because Camille 100% has the ability to ruin you. Her glare was iconic. I was scared but also a little excited. I was hoping for some action but we cut to Perrie again instead.

A drop of water from the ceiling drips and lands on a phone. We talk about how to access the party, Molly Quinn uses her vocal fry to whisper sing an ad-libbed version of WAP, and we see the sprinkler again while Perrie asks about the water. We move to discussing the sprinklers to "make it rain" for the party and the guy for it says the sprinklers are shut off and Perrie calls bullshit because they dripped on his phone. He has this entire bit about hooking up the sprinklers to the filtered water tanks on the roof, etc, and starts talking about "The Golden Rule." I know this rule well, and while Perrie doesn't get to finish saying it before we cut to Roderick, I can confidently say as someone without money that money can solve many, many problems. So yes, whoever has the gold, does make the rules.

Roderick tells Dupin about the comic where he read about it. Before he can also finish saying "rule" Perrie's corpse appears to stand before him, and WOW he looks horrific. The SFX team deserves major props for this work, because he looks like a human anatomy model. 100% my money is that there's acid rain in the sprinklers/in the water tanks in the roof, and I'm probably right, but once again, the beauty of good media/literature/stories isn't about guessing the plot twist or the ending of the story before you get to it, it's about enjoying the process as you go along. I'm having a great time.

Roderick switches to something called CADASIL. Cerebral autosomal dominant arteriopathy with subcortical infarcts and leukoencephalopathy. (The subtitle person for this deserves a raise.) It is apparently a hereditary form of vascular cognitive impairment. "Before it kills you, it causes symptoms very much like dementia. Affects thinking, problem solving, spatial reasoning and memory. It can even cause hallucinations."

Ah. There it is.

Roderick has this. And there's no cure. And he's refusing all the medications. AND the only hope is preventative. THE EXPERIMENTAL SMART HEART MESH HE SPENT $200 MILLION ON THAT HIS DAUGHTER IS WORKING ON?! Ah, so he is spending the gold to make sure the rules can work for him. Even if it means cutting corners and costing lives. Amazing how much money can really take away your sense of humanity though.

He brings up Rufus Griswold and that unfortunate cemetery business. What I laughed at was the dry, subtle way Roderick just calls Gris "the original gangsta." I had to rewind to make sure my eyes and the subtitles weren't playing tricks on me. So apparently all of this, as we are finding out, starts there. In Gris' office. With the Gris himself, "the original cocksucker."

Oh, it is a flashback. Young Roderick goes in to talk to Gris, but what about? Gris pours himself a drink and acerbically mocks the FDA. The "Fuck Dicks Association." Roderick is clearly not used to this kind of vibe, but he plays along poorly, not that it seems to matter much to Gris. Then again, this is a man who succeeded the helm of Fortunato. When he talks, he expects others to play along, he doesn't care how badly they do it as long as he's the one speaking and in charge. Roderick tries to make a pitch but Griswold is unhappy to hear it. He's about to kick Roderick out but decides fuck it, he's already here. Might as well just pretend to listen and kick him out. Obviously he doesn't say that, but I did debate for most of high school. Some judges walk in biased and you know you've lost before you even open your mouth. This happens with WASPy soccer moms judging their kids' debate tournament, this happens with judges on a local and federal level even though we pretend it isn't true, and it is certainly happening right now with Roderick Usher about to try to pitch something to Rufus Griswold. It is a shame Roderick doesn't know it yet.

He pitches ligodone, the same drug that dupin is in modern times currently trying to nail Fortunato and the Ushers for for falsely advertising as everything Roderick is pitching to Gris now. It is a really good pitch, very idealistic. I think Roderick may believe ligodone is the cure for everything, but I'm hooked on his line "this world...needs changing." He's as idealist as young Dupin at this time. I am so committed to seeing what goes wrong.

The pitch continues, Griswold pushes back, and Roderick suggests that Fortunato will become a miracle and Griswold will become the new Messiah. This piques my interest. We've got the ultra-religious mom, the children being allegories for the deadly sins, and a reference to the head of Fortunato with ligodone as the next Messiah. It certainly invokes a sense of hubris with inevitable downfall. But then Roderick brings it back to his mom and how much pain she was in. It really throws me for a loop because I think the humanity of it all is really at the bottom of Griswold's mind.

We cut to a new location and a crying baby. we see Madeline first and then a woman with the crying baby. We quickly figure out this is Roderick's wife Annabel (hur hur Annabel Lee) who consoles him for not winning his pitch. Madeline looks out of place, uncomfortable being there and more focused on things outside of the domestic sphere like Roderick's failed pitch. When we cut to the silent time after the baby is quiet at night, we see Roderick in the middle of these two women, with Madeline at his right hand side. When Annabel expresses remorse about the familial ties Roderick has with Fortunato, with his mother and father, Madeline seems shocked that he would have told his wife about such a detail? Like ma'am, that is your brother's wife. I just get this codependent vibe from the two of them that really gives me the ick. Annabel really does her best to bring them back to humanity by saying money isn't everything, but Madeline is not buying it. Madeline is completely jaded, turned off by men, turned off by love, basically anything where human emotion can show off even a sense of vulnerability. and she's just kind of disrespectful towards Annabel. (There's a bit here about AI writing movies and TV shows, I see that insert, I acknowledge it, I will move on.)

Madeline starts salivating at the thought of using algorithms to mimic human consciousness and ho it speaks to immortality. This is the first time I've seen her care about anything since I've seen her in this house, so I'm writing this immortality bit down as a note for later.

"Fuck that tiny little man in his big office with his tiny little ideas. WE are going to change the goddamn world, and if Fortunato won't help us get there, we will trample them on our way."

Ah. Spoken like a true capitalist, Madeline. Annabel can't fight off this insatiable, almost rabid thirst of Madeline's to move forward, and clearly since she isn't in the present with us, clearly Madeline must have won Roderick over to her side either by force or by choice. Shame, since Annabel was the paragon of virtue and humanity in this argument, and just goes to show how almost inhuman Madeline has become in this pursuit to change the world.

In the present, Madeline is talking to Lenore about answering a bunch of questions. Apparently she's making an Ai-approximation of Lenore by havingher write a journal every day for four months, answer 10,000 questions, and have it worm its way through the internet and collect all of her virtual data. This is impressive, actually. I'm doing some research on AI right now for an old law school professor so I've learned a lot about AI in the past few months and I have some background on this AI approximation that Madeline is trying to create. I might write a separate post about it altogether.

Back to Madeline. She assumes everyone wants to live on after they die, like the ancients. She had her Ancient Egypt phase, I see. This is Madeline's Roman Empire. She unboxes the mummification tools the Ancient Egyptians used to scoop out the brain, but there's a bunch of other artifacts behind her as well, propped up like trophies. She calls it her "immortality collection," so it isn't about Ancient Egypt, her hyperfixation is the concept of immortality.

Pym comes in and tells her she was right about something. Perrie's bank statements show that he's spending less. It either means he's "coming down in his old age" or that he's spending more cash. If so, he's dealing, pimping, or taking a payout in cash from the Federal government. Juno doesn't have her own accounts, she's co-signed on Roderick's. MAdeline here treats Juno with derision, calling her "the child bride" but ma'am. Once again, the common denominator here is that your brother picked these women to marry! Those are his decisions, deal with it! Either way, she's also intent on finding the informant.

Lenore walks in on Juno and Roderick being handsy in his office, but they quickly settle themselves. Juno is hilarious here, but it does highlight that Juno and Lenore are closer in age and interests than anyone else in this household. Blegh. Ok, maybe Madeline's comment about the whole child bride thing was on point. Juno is such comedic relief here, I'm not gonna lie, this actress is stellar, and I love her Irish accent. I think after all that tension and analysis, it was good to have a break. These things are too long, I need to shorten them for Episode 3.

Oh, cut to Perrie trying to drop off documents for Froderick. Dickwad. Frederick. Freddie. Morrie answers the door and tells him she's sorry about how Freddie can be. She tells Perrie she gets it, and idk, am I getting "battered wife" vibes here or is this just an act to try to get him to warm up? Perrie instead decides to be a degenerate and invite his shitty's brother WIFE to his expensive orgy. She scoffs and rebukes him, but he pulls some psycho manipulation about sex that as a demi person I can't relate to, but I appreciate her being all "How dare you!" about it. I still think if the show is going to put moving music in the background on it that she's going to end up going though, so maybe an early RIP to Morella Usher? Perrie's a whole ass freak, but Morrie is considering it, so wow.

Cut to Tamerlane. She's watching Bill set the table and then the bell rings. Off screen she invites a woman in who asks if a wig works for her? Ok, so this girl looks a bit like Chloe Fineman from SNL, but she just walks in wearing a wig and says hi to Bill like she's done this a million times before. Is this some type of roleplay? Ok, they're paying her in cash and Tamerlane is explaining her roleplay? She wants a romantic, intimate dinner? But she wants this girl to pretend to be her? Wait, she's sitting down and watching? Ok, so Tamerlane is sitting down and watching a hired girl pretend to be her, watch Bill treat her like he treats her, and Tamerlane gets off by watching it all as a third party observer? Her sexual fantasies literally start at dinner. I mean I just said Perrie's a whole ass freak, but Tamerlane kind of is one on a whole other, more voyeuristic, self-insertion level. I am confusion.

Cut to Camille watching Bill's workout video and kind of following his workout in a fascinated way? I'm also confusion. Anyway, her interns walk in and she turns it off, but then asks for updates on Vic's clinical trials and is frustrated that Toby can't get any results. She then goes into background of the testing facility "Roderick. Usher. Experimental." R.U.E. So she sets up the bit about the Rue Morgue. My favorite Poe short story. Tina goes into the paralytic nerve agent but Camille is uninterested. She looks through photographs and then..gets up to join them in bed? I had to rewind again. I didn't even realize they were undressing while debriefing her. And Camille's wearing a rope bra. And they're her interns! Besides the ethical and workplace violations from the freaking PR person for Fortunato, this whole family is FULL of sexual deviants. Wtf. I am confusion. AGAIN.

Cut to ships in a bottle. Frederick is showing Lenore how to make a ship in a bottle for Grampus Roderick. Morrie is headed out and apparently she's going to the orgy party. Great...

Everything is stuffed into lockers and masks come on. Perrie is overlooking this domain like the young Prince Prospero from the story. He gets excited when he sees and realizes his dickwad brother's hot wife showed up to his orgy. Morrie plays dumb, but Perrie tells her to try some drugs and one of the twelve bedrooms before he says he will find her later.

Cut to security cameras. Perrie points out all the famous/famous adjacent people who showed up. He reveals his plan to use the security footage form this hedonistic orgy to blackmail everyone who arrived at the party. Suddenly, inviting his dickwad's brother's hot model/actress wife makes a lot more sense, and he says it out loud. He drops a tidbit about Freddie is afraid of using elevators. Mght be useful for later. He then proceeds to give his lackeys ecstasy through mouth to mouth and they all head out to continue partying before a woman in a skull mask walks through the door. We know it is Verna, but Perrie doesn't know who she is. Verna and Morrie briefly make eye contact before Verna slips away and Perrie follows her to ask her who she is.

Verna finally removes her mask and she and Perrie somehow end up in a private bedroom. I don't know if the red lights are indicative of the seventh room in the original story, but if it is just a stylistic option, it also looks fitting. Verna tells him he can take off his mask. He asks her if she knows him, and she says she knows everyone here because this is her kind of party. She talks about the music, the lights, the beautiful flesh. She really leans into "the smells of it." And no, it isn't what you would think. "All the sweat, the perfumes, the lotions, the musk. sex, yes. But with a dash of Rome."

Verna asks him to tell her, and not lie, if this party is everything he wanted it to be. He says, "Not yet. Almost." She responds that "nearly realized is the sweetest. It is better...in the moment just before than in the moment after." She tells him he did it, and there's still time. For what? He asks. Verna responds..."To stop it."

She tells Perrie "Things like this, all things in fact, have consequences." He tells her that's not what is happening here based off of his invite (even though he KNOWS he plans to blackmail everyone in this room later.) Verna responds there are always consequences and talks about him. About choices that lead to consequences, and how his existence is a consequence. I wrote down the whole speech because those sequence of choices will likely be illuminated once the entire series is over, so I want that to reflect upon during each episode.

It is a shame, because even though Verna tells Perrie that tonight he is consequential, he doesn't even realize how serious she is. She gives him a chance to take it all back, and then the two of them could have had fun, and that she's got a weakness for bad boys. She tells Perrie "you are a pretty, pretty little thing" before she disappears into the party again. Perrie chases after her but she's gone. He takes something, puts his mask back on and returns to the party. Verna is seen whispering into the ears of the security guards, the bartender, etc before she appears behind Morrie and tells her to "Go. Now." So Morrie is given due warning. Now the decision is up to her whether to leave or stay as midnight approaches. Morrie stays, and has to deal with the consequences of her choices.

The acid rain in the sprinklers rains down and proceeds to basically liquify the entire party. Everyone looks like anatomical models, but Perrie is still moving a bit. Verna approaches his melted body and whispers "You beautiful boy" and kisses him on the lips as he dies before placing her skull mask on his face. And that's the end of the episode.

There's a lot there. I feel like I have to immediately start Episode 3 in order to recover from the whiplash of all of that, but this is going up now. I think for Episode 3 I will take it "scene by scene" as I plan to watch the entire episode in full since Rue Morgue is my favorite short story and I wanna see how it plays out with Camille. If I'm lucky I'll get Episode 3 up today but I am very much at the whim of my moods and medication.

Overall this was a good episode, we saw everyone else's freaky sex interests and I do think Perrie gives me "lust" deadly sin vibes, especially because his penchant for lust is what got him killed. Verna calling him beautiful before and after the acid rain is intriguing. She could be saying his demon-esque look is appealing because she herself is a demon. I got a google notecard/ad type of thing for an article saying that Verna is the Raven because it is an anagram, but I'm interested in seeing other explanations as to what Verna could be. She could be the literal devil that the twins made a deal with to get where they are, I'm not entirely sure. I just want to get through this series with as little spoilers as possible to see how accurate my guesses are.

#the fall of the house of usher #house of usher #tfothou #tfothou spoilers #carla gugino #molly quinn #mike flanagan #fall of the house of usher #tv series review #netflix series #netflix #seven deadly sins #prospero usher #verna #the raven #rue morgue

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ladylooch · 2 years

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What My World Spins Around- Nico Hischier

A/N: Happy Saturday, readers! Enjoy our Swiss captain and someone to calm the aches in life :) Inspo is this Jordan Davis song.

Warnings: SMUT (18+) Content. Fluff.

Summary: Off-season Nico is the best Nico.

Word Count: 3.7k

The glow of the candle light is almost too romantic for a first date. So is the guy across the table from me. If I hadn’t seen him play a few times, it would be difficult to believe that he’s an NHL player. His sweet, shy demeanor is a complete contrast to the professional athletes I’ve encountered in my 22 years on this earth. Add in the sweet gestures of opening my car door and pulling my chair out for me, the story I’ll have for tomorrow is almost unbelievable to my own ears.

Yet, Nico Hischier, as he lives and breathes, is sitting contently across the table from me.

“What are you thinking?” He asks me, bringing my attention to his plump lips pursed in concentration.

“Ah…” I trail off, blinking to focus my eyes off his mouth and to the dessert menu resting in my fingers. “Everything looks good… Not sure I can decide.”

“One of everything it is.” His smile dazzles in the low lighting. My body swoons slightly to the left. I chomp on my bottom lip to try and get a grip.

“If I have to pick, it’s creme brûlée.” I confess to him, sliding the menu to the edge of the table.

“Excellent choice.” He nods in approval.

The dessert comes out and our conversation continues. We’ve covered the basics and find ourselves effortlessly drifting deeper into discussions of the pressures of being an NHL player, what difficult moments I’ve experienced as a pediatric nurse, and the utter devastation of being dumped by our first loves.

“Well, his loss is my gain.” Nico smiles as my story finishes. He lays his spoon down on the now empty ramekin.

“I guess it is. Lucky duck.”

“It feels like we are both lucky… of all the buildings in the world, we happen to live in the same one.” Nico says.

“And take the same elevator every day at 9:30am.” I look into his eyes, savoring the way the candle light flickers in them. His soft chuckle dances over the table to me and covers me in a warmth I’ll feel long after we say goodnight. “What can I say? I enjoy a routine. You get it since you’re in there with me every morning.” He bites his lip and seems to contemplate his next words carefully. Eventually, with a slight shake of his head, he exhales.

“I do, but if I’m being honest, I should actually be leaving for the rink earlier than I have been the last month.”

“Oh?” My eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Yeah, but… If I left earlier, I wouldn’t have those two minutes with you. It’s the best part of my day.” I can feel the shift happen completely against my will. Falling for someone shouldn’t happen this easily. In spite of that, I’m gone before our dishes are cleared from the table.

After settling the check, we leave the Italian restaurant and head towards his car parked down the block. As my heels clack against the sidewalk, Nico hesitantly reaches for my left hand. Our fingers entwine together for a perfect fit. When I turn to look at him, a raindrop dashes down my hair. I cringe, looking up at the sky, getting smacked with two more on my forehead. In another moment, a downpour engulfs us.

“Come on!” Nico laughs, tugging me down the block. Running seems to make everything worse. By the time we get to the car, we are both laughing at the look of each other, soaked and getting wetter as we stand there. Nico opens the car door for me, encouraging me to slide in. But when I turn to him, looking at the curls of his wet hair dusting his forehead, I want to know what his lips feel like against mine. Right now. Not in fifteen minutes or an hour or on our next date. Right here in this soaking wet moment. He steps closer to me, showing me he feels the same as his hands come to my hips. I tilt my head back in delicious anticipation, watching his approach. My lashes flutter against my cheek bones as I get my first taste of him.

My eyes pop open just as Nico’s lips touch mine. Gone is the wet New Jersey street and the sound of tires splashing in puddles. Replacing it is the light, blue walls of our bedroom in Switzerland. My fingers come to my lips, tracing their outline and remembering how perfect that night was.

Nico and I never looked back after our first date. We have spent every minute possible of the last year and a half together, loving each other through the highs and lows of life. He was there when I stepped away from nursing after losing a special patient. I was there with the enduring struggles of his most recent hockey season. We celebrated his captaincy with champagne and a bubble bath in our new apartment. Now, after a challenging year that ended without a playoff appearance, we are in his hometown of Bern to spend a relaxing and reflecting off-season.

I roll over to my back and stretch my right hand out, feeling for my boyfriend. Disappointment twists my mouth into a frown when my skin touches the cool sheet. He’s clearly been up for awhile. Light is barely filtering in through the cracks in the blinds which tells me daybreak has just begun. I lay there quietly, willing myself to go back to sleep. But I can’t. My mind is on Nico, wondering where he is and what is going on in his tumultuous mind at this hour. I give up on the idea of sleep after fifteen minutes, tossing the covers off my legs.

The hardwood feels cold beneath my bare feet as I strut out to the kitchen. The room smells of coffee, hinting at the recent use of the Nespresso machine on the coffee bar. I glance around the new, open concept space, frowning when I don’t see Nico within view. A yawn tugs at my mouth, so I release it. My arms stretch up high above my head, pulling the Devils sweatshirt I stole from Nico up with it. I swing my arms back down, placing my hands against my hips to stretch my shoulders out further. I walk to the large windows of the living room, taking in the view of the sun rising. The mountains surrounding the lake dance in orange, yellow, and pink hues, hinting at another spectacular, Swiss day.

My eyes are pulled to a figure on the dock below. Nico sits, feet dragging along the surface of the lake, creating waves through the otherwise smooth plane. My lips tilt into a tender smile at finding him. I make my way out to the deck then down the stairs so I can join him on the dock. When my feet hit the old, warn wood, the dock squeaks to announce my presence. Nico glances over his shoulder, watching my pursuit with a hunger we apparently didn’t satisfy last night.

“Hi babe.” He murmurs, reaching out for my hand. He guides me to step between his legs as he pushes back, creating space for me to sit between his strong thighs. I do so willingly, letting my feet dip into the cold, mountain lake. Nico tugs me to his chest, arms wrapping securely around my body, chin coming to rest against the top of my head. “Did I wake you?” He wonders, voice dancing across the vastness of the quiet morning.

“Yeah.” I murmur, smiling and thinking back to the sweet memory of our first kiss that visited this morning. “You were in my dream and then missing from our bed.” I lean my shoulders further into him. He tightens his arms immediately, sensing how badly I want to be consumed by him.

“Sorry.” He kisses my hair, lips hovering gently as my eyes close. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“What’s on your mind, captain?”

“All the ways I want to get better this off-season.” His fingers trail along my forearm as he looks at the mountains before us. “We have so much work to do to get to where we need to be.” The frustration from the end of the season sears the air with his words.

“Rome wasn’t built in a day.” I remind him.

“No, but we have to better. We need to find a way to win.”

I twist in his arms, careful to not let my wet feet brush against his clothes.

“You say we, but I can hear the me in your words. You’re doing the best you can.”

“Well, if that was my best, it’s not good enough.”

“Baby.” I whine at him, threading my fingers through his long hair. The strands try to hide his beautiful eyes from me. But I need to see them to clear their storm clouds. “You’ll never be able to move forward if you don’t let this season go. Wrap it all up, tie it to a rock and chuck it into this lake in front of us."

To humor me, he closes his eyes. I laugh as he releases his grip on my hips to ball up his frustrations and chuck them behind me into the water.

“There we go! Now, your shoulders don’t look so heavy.” I tease him, gently rubbing my fingers along his jaw. “I have to say though, I kinda like that I get you all to myself for awhile.”

“Me too. The rest of the world can wait.” His brown eyes shine in appreciation at me. “Sometimes I wish I could be just yours all the time.”

“Me too. But you have an important job.” I murmur to him. “Putting a whole franchise on your back is tough stuff.” My lips tilt into a sly smile.

“I just wanna win.” He says to me, eyes dipping to look at my lips. His gaze remains there and I feel the leisurely drag of it across my flesh.

“I know.” I nod at him, watching his cheeks turn a bit more pink as the sun rises higher in the sky. “But maybe don’t forget to have fun while you’re living your dream.” My hand comes up, running through the dark hairs on the side of his head again.

“I have plenty of fun with you.” He leans forward to press our lips together. I slowly close my eyes, savoring the warmth of his kiss. His tongue trails across my bottom lip before taking it’s place in my mouth. I hum a gentle moan onto his lips. “Damn, you taste good.” He says when he pulls away. His brown eyes are lustful as he presses our bodies securely together.

“You taste like coffee.” I murmur, reaching for his abandoned cup. I take a delicate sip of the Nespresso as Nico watches. The caramel flavor wraps my mouth in a sweet coating. A ripple of foam sticks to my top lip that draws Nico’s undivided attention. My tongue lazily glides along the skin to give him the show he’s desperate for.

“Mmm.” I sigh, savoring one more sip from his cup. “My favorite thing from Switzerland.” I hide my smug smile behind the cup in my hands as his eyes meet mine again.

“Not me, eh?” He questions to which I shake my head. “I guess I shouldn’t expect to be able to compete with coffee.”

“True. But also, you’re my favorite thing in the entire world, not just from here.” I wiggle my eyebrows at him, handing him back his mug.

He takes a sip, eyes closing to savor the buzz of caffeine. I bite my lip, then lean forward, kissing the edges of his mouth. He turns slightly to capture my lips, tongue sliding against my bottom lip. I welcome it into my mouth, sighing and melting deeper into his body. His hands run down my back, gripping my ass as he tugs me tighter into his lap. I can feel him thickening against the fabric of his shorts. A throbbing pulse begins between my legs that begs for him to be buried there.

Nico’s stomach growls breaking us apart as we both laugh.

“I guess I’m hungry.” He whispers to me. With his swollen lips, pink cheeks, and darkening eyes, I’d say so.

“Let’s go make breakfast.” I suggest. “I’m dying for some bread with that strawberry jam we got at the market yesterday.” I stand, swiping my hand across the back of my shorts to brush off any debris that is sticking there.

“Okay, but we do need something besides carbs.”

“Shut your sweet mouth.” I scold him with a glint in my eye. “Off-season rules apply which means we are required to eat at least one carb a day.” Nico chuckles, coming behind me to place a guiding hand on the small of my back.

“When did we decide that?”

“Right now.” I say seriously. He shakes his head with a laugh.

We reach the yard and cross the grass to the rock patio. The small, angular rocks litters the base of the deck for aesthetic purposes. In my quest to join my boyfriend, I disregarded shoes and had hopped anxiously over these the first time. Now, Nico tugs on the back of my sweatshirt to pull me to a stop.

“C’mere. Gotta protect those cute feet from sharp objects.” He insists, gripping my waist and lifting me easily into his chest. I pull my legs up so he can guide me to the wood stairs. He sets me down on the second one. I give his arm a squeeze as he releases me, then climb the remaining steps with an amused smirk. Cap can’t keep his hands off me.

“Something besides carbs, he says.” I repeat to myself as we enter the state of the art kitchen. Nico doesn’t cook often, but knowing how much joy it brings me, he renovated his off-season home last year for me. I got to pick out my dream appliances, colors, tile, and stone. It all came together in crisp whites, gold fixtures, and dreamy navy accents.

“I can make myself something, babe.” He insists, dumping out his last sip of cold coffee and working a new pod into the machine. “You want coffee, hun?”

“Yes, please.” I say, reaching my hands up into the pantry, searching for the waffle mix I know is up there from last week. Nico, watching my struggle, comes behind me. He places a steadying hand on the slice of exposed skin of my lower back while reaching above me. He easily grabs the mix, placing it in my hand. A gentle kiss grazes my hair as he moves back to the coffee. Neither of us mention the carb content of waffles.

“I think there is bacon in the fridge?” I question Nico.

“Sure. I’ll check in a sec.”

We move through the kitchen with easy synergy. Nico puts the bacon in the oven. I work the pre-made mix into a batter. Nico finishes our coffees, fixing his black and mine with oat milk, frothed perfectly the way only he knows how to do. He sets my cup next to me, skimming against me as he does. His continual, sweet touches have ignited a flame that begins to consume my body. An electricity fills the air with his gently maneuvering of my hips so he can reach into the drawer to my right for a new kitchen towel. I bite my lip, trying to focus on the batter and not his warmth against me. Nico senses the shift too, moving his fingers to dip just slightly into my shorts. A feminine sigh releases from my lips. He guides my body back until our hips press into one another.

“I have to confess something to you.” He drags out his words, breath skirting along my neck teasingly, lips hovering over his favorite place to suck me. “I asked them to keep the island this height for a reason.” It is a little bit lower than normal, but I’m on the shorter side and it didn’t seem to bother Nico. He grabs the bowl from my hands, sliding it to the side. My hands pause in mid-air, waiting, wondering what’s next, needing it to be something to calm the desperate ache in my core.

“Oh?” It comes out as a quiver.

“Yeah. I knew it would be the perfect height for this.” His hands press into my back, guiding me forward until I’m bent over in front of him. My butt perches perfectly in the air. His fingers drag along my spine until they reach my butt cheeks, giving them both a generous squeeze. “Mmm. Perfect.”

“You do love being right.” I praise him. The chuckle that comes from him is devilish.

He presses his hips into me, moving in a long circle to brush his erection against my butt. My inner muscles clench, desperate for him to slide my shorts down and slip into me. He is patient, much more than I am, and takes his time, massaging his fingers into my sensitive skin, purposefully straying away from between my legs.

“Nico.” I finally groan in frustration as he makes another pass over my hips. “Please.”

“I’ll take you when I’m ready and not a moment before, mein Schatz.”

“I thought you liked to please?” I quip to him, hoping if I provoke him, he’ll take me fast and hard.

“When you start being good.”

“I have been.”

“No whining.” He warns me, fingers working the waistband of my shorts down, tantalizingly slow over the swell of my cheeks. The cool air of the kitchen brushes against my heat, but Nico still doesn’t touch me. “What a view. I wish you could see how you shine in the morning sun.” I bury my face into my arms folded in front of me. Involuntarily, my muscles clench around the emptiness. But the movement beckons his touch to me. I melt into the feeling of his fingers brushing against my folds. He slides one in, testing me, the slickness of us fills the air. “This what you need?” He purrs to me.

“Yes.” I moan as he slides another digit in. I gulp as he increases the tempo. I feel so sexy standing in our kitchen together, bent forward with Nico pleasuring me. Pink heat tinges my cheeks as I curl up from the counter in need, letting a feminine moan out.

“I want to tease you more, but you look too good not to have.” He sighs, almost regretfully, to me. His fingers brush against my ass as he works his shorts and underwear down. His cock jolts from his clothing, bouncing against my entrance. He is taut and warm as his head teases my folds before sliding into me. A small stretch to accommodate him has my breathing hitch, then a wave of pleasure sways through my body. He moves again, pushing me tight against the counter, holding my hips in place so he can fuck me the way he wants.

It’s fast and tight and wet as he thrusts deep. I’m breathless and electrified at each brush against my walls. He pulls out less and less each time, hitting that spot in me that he knows will have me tugging an orgasm from us both.

“Turn your face.” He moans to me, releasing me with one hand to grab my face to turn it to the side. He holds my jaw, fingers pressing into both of my cheeks as he pounds into me.

“Ohmygod.” I whisper to him, “Just like this.” I grip his wrist tightly, nail beds going white with the intensity. I open my mouth to speak to him again, but I can’t. All that come out is a grateful groan.

“Fuck.” He hisses to me as I squeeze him with the first pulse of my orgasm. It builds and builds and builds until it explodes from my core. I cry out in desperation as he plows through. He releases my face to grip my hips roughly again, blood pulsing beneath his finger tips as the counter digs into my stomach from his pressure. The stinging of slight discomfort extends my orgasm until I’ve given everything I can. I collapse back onto the stone. Nico’s motion become jerky strokes then he comes with a harsh exhale of breath and a moan that lodges as a happy bubble into my chest. His body falls onto mine as though he is bowing after an exhilarating show.

The cool marble of the counter soothes some of the warmth in my cheek as I suck in breaths. Nico’s welcomed weight against my back rises and falls in sync with me. The smell of bacon descends into my afterglow. Slowly, Nico slides from me. He tucks himself back into his pants, then glides my shorts back into place. I rise from the counter as his hands come to my stomach, holding me close to him. Gone is the rough, demanding partner and replaced is the sweet, sensual lover. Our afterglow caresses us in each other’s arms. He rocks us into contentment, skin still buzzing from each others touch.

“How did we ever live without this?” I ask him, head resting against his shoulder. He releases a heavy exhale with a slight shake of his head.

“No idea.”

“I want this with you forever.” I say to him tenderly. This isn’t news to him. We’ve talked about marriage. We know it’s in our cards, but Nico’s goals are so hockey focused that the when of that is fuzzy.

“We will. I know you think it’s hockey, but you’re what my world spins around.” His lips press against the top of my head.

There’s no ring. It’s not a proposal. Instead, its a promise.

Right now, wrapped together, in a kitchen he built just for me, with my skin still on fire from his strokes, it’s more than enough for me.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nhl fan fiction #hockey writing #nj devils #New Jersey devils #my writing #hockey fan fiction #fan fiction #what my world spins around au

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