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hoonatic · 11 months ago

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emergency contact | park sunghoon x reader

prompt: weeks after your breakup, sunghoon finds out that he’s still your emergency contact. pairing: non-idol sunghoon x implied female reader genre: angst with hopeful/happy? ending; second chance romance??; exes to lovers??? word count: 2800 note: i’ve had a cute fic idea that i wanted to write forever…but this is not it. the sad demons have visited me once again. hope y’all enjoy nevertheless and any feedback is much appreciated <3

sunghoon was miserable.

it had been three weeks, five days, two hours, and thirty-two minutes since the two of you had gone no contact.

he wished he could say he was happy to be single, that he was no longer “locked down” and “whipped” as his friends had always called him. but the so-called “freedom” felt like hell since it meant losing you.

at first, he kept telling himself that time would heal the pain. “it’s natural,” he had repeated like a mantra, “she was your best friend and lover for years.” but no, this heartbreak was inhumane. his desire to see you, apologize endlessly, and spend days holding you until you could feel every ounce of his love was gnawing at his soul. if anything, it got worse by the minute.

he had tried so hard to balance work and the rest of his life, using the excuse several times that he was securing this future for your shared life with him. that one day, you��d be able to reap the rewards of his efforts and live comfortably together without stress.

but what was the use of all of that now? the future he had worked so hard to create was ripped out from his hands by no one other than himself.

you had accused him of being too busy for you. dates canceled at the last minute, a birthday forgotten, and all the texts left on read had built up to the argument that ended it all. he was always good at fighting, a little too good. he had retorted that you weren’t being supportive, and he was never one to sugarcoat his words. his tongue was sharp, and he did nothing to dull its blade.

but there wasn’t too much yelling on your part, and he thought that that hurt more. he wanted you to fight back, to stand your ground because he knew deep down that he was being the asshole. his toxic thought was that by you fighting back, this meant that you were still fighting for your relationship. but instead, you just stared with silent tears and a blank expression. seeing the indifference in eyes that had previously held so much love was a sight that would stay with him forever. so, in fear of you leaving, he ran instead.

he was a coward, leaving your shared home to run back to the apartment he had still technically owned but hadn’t lived in for more than a year. he locked himself away for a few days, but the realization that you hadn’t attempted to contact him burned more than he could put into words. you were done with him. he had hurt you, had the audacity to be the one to run, and now he had lost you.

he had even run from his job. he couldn’t stand to walk into the same building he stayed in when he forgot dates with you. his coworkers wouldn’t stop asking what happened to him, why he looked so rough. he even found an empty container that had once held lunch you made for him. but his final straw was getting promoted. his first instinct was to call you, but he remembered the sad truth before he could dial. any ounce of pride was washed away with shame in that moment. that same day, he quit without notice.

so there he was: miserable, alone, and unemployed with nothing left to run from but memories. he had spent the last week going through his phone and saving your pictures together in a locked album. he wouldn’t dare delete them, but he couldn’t stomach looking at you either.

he wished he could get drunk and sleep away the pain. he had tried, he definitely did - but that night, he dreamt of you. you were smiling at first, eyes ever full of love. you were speaking, yet he couldn’t hear you. but he could see how your words started to gradually look sadder, and slowly, tears started to fall as your grin dropped. he woke up that next morning crying with the conclusion that he would have to face this heartbreak sober.

but another day of scrolling through albums had stopped abruptly when he saw the notification that changed everything.

SOS i called emergency services from this approximate location after my watch detected a hard fall. you are receiving this message because i have you listed as my emergency contact.

sunghoon had to remind himself to breathe.

he had purchased that watch for you as a “just because” present months ago. you had complained of bad sleep and he wanted you to use it as a way to track your slumber. he hated seeing you tired. he knew that the watch had a fall detection function, but it had never been used before.

his heart was in his stomach as he went to his favorite contacts page and selected your name for the first time in weeks.

“please,” he begged, all notion of running away from you leaving his brain, “pick up please.”

but you just weren’t answering. so he tried again and again and again.

for a moment while the line attempted to connect, he wondered if this was how he had made you feel for months - desperate for a sliver of attention from him. but instead, he was desperate for a sign of life.

finally, after about two minutes of trying to reach you, his body moved of its own accord. before he knew it, his car keys were in his hands and he was out the door.

the car ride there might have been the worst part. the speed at which he drove at almost defied the laws of physics. other drivers were cursing at him but he wasn’t registering anything except the thought of your safety. he just needed to get to you.

why did he run? why didn’t he try to talk it out? if he was so afraid of losing you, why did he do the one thing that would guarantee that? he should have been there like he promised to be from the beginning. you would have been safe with him.

when he pulled up to the house you had shared for so long, he suddenly felt the world slow down. why were emergency services there? you should’ve canceled them by now.

he had to double park as the ambulance was blocking the driveway. why were they here?

the emts and police had arrived at the same time as him, which both increased his anxiety and soothed him. for one, that meant he had been quick enough. but why did you need them?

“sir, do you know–” an officer had approached him as he stumbled to the front door. all he could understand was your name. why were they asking if he knew you? of course he knew you. you, the love of his life. you, his soulmate by every meaning of the word. you were you. and you were safe.

as if sensing his distress, he felt an emt worker pull him to the side as the same officer prepared to break down the door. seeing this, sunghoon finally returned to his senses.

“w-wait! sorry, i have a key.” sunghoon’s hands were shaking. the only way that door had unlocked was by pure muscle memory because he didn’t understand what he was doing at all.

as soon as the door opened, sunghoon tried to step in. finally, he was close to you.

the officer, however, pulled him back.

“sir, you should wait here. we need to make an initial search before you can go in.”

“what, why? if she’s in there, i want to see–”

“sir, it’s just in case we find something we wouldn’t want you to see.”

all of sunghoon’s hesitation and fear went out the window at those words. his body flew automatically as he ran inside.

he screamed your name as he rushed in, ignoring the yells of the police officers who followed him in. as it had been for almost four weeks, his only thought was you. he just needed you.

he checked the ground floor first, eyes scanning the open space in less than a second as his body avoided an officer trying to grab him. sunghoon then moved to the staircase, long legs prepared to skip steps to reach you. then suddenly, he heard the voice his ears had been longing for,

“sunghoon?!”

his head shot up. there you were, finally. he saw the sadness, confusion, and fear all flash your face as you registered the emergency workers behind him. you looked exhausted and unruly, but he had never felt more in love.

he didn’t even remember climbing the steps, but suddenly he was at the top of the staircase and you were in his arms.

you could feel him trembling as he held you. you took his face into your hands to look at him, “sunghoon? what’s wrong? why are you here? is it my parents? is someone hurt?” you watched as his mouth opened but no words came out. after a few seconds, one of the officers spoke from the bottom of the steps,

“ma’am, we received an alert from your device that a hard fall had occurred.”

suddenly, you understood everything. taking sunghoon’s hand gently, you led him down the stairs, afraid he’d fall from shock. he followed you silently, but his grip tightened seemingly with every step.

that’s when you noticed your shattered watch on the third step.

you let sunghoon go and you could hear his deep breath when you did. you picked up the watch and offered it up to the officer as an explanation, “i’m sorry officer, it looks like there’s been a misunderstanding…”

the officer nodded in understanding, and dismissed the emts, “got it, ma’am. we will still need a formal report for our records since this was registered as an emergency call.” he motioned to your couch as he took out a pen and paper.

you reached for sunghoon’s hand once more and led him to sit with you. in the moment, you knew he needed you more than you would ever understand. so, as you explained to the officer, you held his trembling hand, rubbing soothing circles with your thumb.

“i was doing laundry here downstairs and had taken off my watch to prevent it from getting wet,” you recounted, “i put it on top of the basket of clothes that i took upstairs. i remember tripping a little going up the stairs - i didn’t fall, but that must’ve been when the watch fell."

"what about your phone, where is it? i'm sure your boyfriend must've tried to call you."

sunghoon slowly nodded at that, turning to look at you. you smiled sheepishly, "i left it upstairs and it was on silent while i folded the clothes. i’m so sorry for the inconvenience.”

after finishing up your statement, the remaining officer prepared to leave. as he walked out the door, he gave a soft smile to the both of you,

“glad to see it was a false alarm, ma’am. you had this gentleman quite worried - ran so fast i couldn’t even grab him!” the officer laughed, “you two have a nice day now! sorry about your watch, though!”

after he shut your door, the silence enveloped your home. you closed your eyes and breathed deeply to prepare to speak to your ex-boyfriend. but as soon as you opened them, sunghoon started to cry softly.

he hugged you tighter than he ever had, and soon enough, his face was buried in your neck. his cries were silent, but you could feel his body shaking as his tears soaked your shirt.

“sunghoon…” you started, stroking his back, “i’m sorry i worried you, honey.”

you knew you shouldn’t be calling your ex pet names, especially an ex that had run from you without properly ending the relationship. but your heart still held so much love for him that it flowed out naturally. and you knew he was crying from more than just worry, so you doubt he minded at all in the moment.

his crying slowed down as his arms took to loosely wrapping around your waist instead. he pulled away from your neck to rest his forehead on yours. from this angle, you could see his swollen eyes and red nose - a sight so rare in all the years you had dated. he was never a crier after all.

but memories of several late-night conversations rushed your mind. he always said his number one fear was your death, and now you could see he had never lied about that.

he could see your mind go elsewhere so he called your name softly, “don’t say you’re sorry. i’m so happy, these are relieved tears. and i just really, really missed you.” he croaked out. you knew he had more to say, so you just nodded, letting him go on.

“and i’m sorry, baby. for everything. i shouldn’t have run, i shouldn’t have tried to egg you on to fight me back. i shouldn’t have even fought anything you said that night. you were right. i didn’t prioritize you. in my attempt to secure you for life, i let you go instead. i’m so sorry, i never wanted to break up.” he was rambling in earnest now, afraid that no words would make you take him back.

you listened quietly as he went on for a few minutes after that, hand continuing to rub his back, “i know honey, i know.”

“baby, you need to understand that i almost died thinking you almost died today,” you could’ve laughed at how dramatically he spoke, “i couldn’t breathe right thinking that our last conversation could’ve been an argument. that you wouldn't have ever known just how deeply i love you and need you. i have so much regret for how i treated you, but if you’d give me the chance, i have all the time in the world to make it up to you…let’s go on that vacation i promised you. we can leave tomorrow if you’d like.” he smiled hopefully at you.

“hoon,” his heart soared at the use of his beloved nickname, “what do you mean? don’t you have work? can you really leave with such short notice?”

“i quit my job.”

“excuse me?”

“no job that made me work that much is worth it. i’ll find one with better work-life balance…after our vacation. if that’s what you still want of course…” he spoke more quietly, as if afraid of rejection.

you sighed. you really should be realistic with this - you two had been broken up for a few weeks at that point. you knew the love was still there, but was this a good decision?

while there was still some hesitation on your part, you couldn't help but notice how gingerly he held you. his arms were still around your waist loosely, yet there was something desperate about their hold. you knew he was holding back from hurting you - you could tell how tightly he wanted to hug you.

he was so shaken up at the idea of you being hurt that he rushed over there despite the two of you not being on speaking terms. for someone who had trouble communicating how he felt sometimes, you knew his actions spoke louder than words. he always acted brave, but there was so much he feared. and you knew losing you was always at the top of this list.

you could also feel how he was simply soaking in the sight of your face. his eyes were shy, yet determined. he wasn't going to risk missing another second of staring at you. a part of you grew conscious, but you knew he was just taking in what he had missed for weeks.

“what about…” you started and almost giggled at how he perked up, “we take it slow - another two weeks or so to talk everything out and relax? to get us to a good place again before you hold me hostage in some foreign country?”

sunghoon smiled softly, kissing your forehead. you leaned in naturally to his warmth, to his touch that you missed so much. “that sounds like a great idea, love.” he spoke, “we’ll get you a new watch too. and i’ll do all the itinerary planning and packing whenever you’re ready, okay? i love you.”

“okay. and i love you too. can’t wait to enjoy your unemployment with you for now!”

one smile and nod from you had him taking you into his arms once more, relishing in your being. he was back where he belonged. he had experienced the scariest reminder ever that he needed you, and sunghoon was never letting you go now.

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nrilliree · 1 year ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/princessyuue/746324718985035776/you-know-what-pissed-me-offeveryone-saying-that?source=share

There's no denying that the Green stans live in a parallel universe. Rhaenyra did not propose marriage to Helaena to make her son more legitimate, but simply out of a desire to make peace with Alicent.

Secondly, Rhaenyra did not want the attention to be on her during Aegon II's birthday, or for people to care about her particularly at that time. She simply feared that people would be wanted Aegon II in his place on the throne. Not to mention that Viserys was putting pressure on her to find a husband. And what do we see in this episode ? Suitors who clearly piss off Rhaenyra and look disgusting, and that there are really people wanting his brother in his place on the throne, that Viserys changes heirs and is already plotting for that. (Also, there was a cut scene of Rhaenyra trying to teach her little brother how to say his name, so she was being nice to him, but obviously the writers needed to remove that...)

Oh and yes, what a shame that Rhaenyra wants Viserys to question Aemond more harshly to find out where he got the accusation of bastardy on his children, an accusation so serious that it would risk the DEATH of his Velaryon boys. How dare a mother put her children first ?!

The people on team greens really love transforming what happens in this series to prove themselves right, specifically about the character of Rhaenyra. That's crazy. And it will always come back to the fact that she had children out of wedlock (while ignoring why she had them in the canon of the show) at one point or another. They are so predictable.

Some anonymous had previously sent me part of this post without adding that it was part of the post, so I deleted the reply to avoid mess again, but I'll say the same thing again:

Does anyone really expect Rhaenyra to be happy at Aegon's birthday when she heard chants of "Aegon the Second of His Name" everywhere? Aegon was not the second Aegon in the family, not even the second since the Conquest, but the fourth. So there was no room for stupid explanations. This was a title reserved for a king, so the people made it clear that they expected Rhaenhra to be replaced. And she, cruel, was mad! How could she!

It is also obvious to me why Rhaenyra mentioned "torture" - because she knew well where Aemond heard it from and wanted Alicent to confess under pressure. No one would torture anyone (that's Viserys 🙄). But Alicent didn't confess even when her son faced potential torture, because she preferred to shout that Rhaenyra was evil rather than face consequences for her actions. And the children had to defend her.

Not entirely related to the post:

People like to prove that Rhaenyra is evil and mad. They do not take into account why her rule was the way it was, because "the loss of her children does not justify her" and she should be fully mentally stable. I wonder if this doesn't justify Helaena's behavior as well? After all, how could she break down instead of fighting? Rhaenyra lost five children (she didn't know Viserys was alive) in a short period of time. Of course it affected her! She was mentally broken, deprived of any funds in the treasury, and made bad decisions. She was not a good queen. But she could be if she was given the chance to rule as she deserved.

And people still sometimes add rumors (about throwing a party) and nonsense written by Mushroom (about the rape of Alicent and Helana) to show how bad she is 🙄

#house of the dragon #team black #anti team green #rhaenyra targaryen #anti alicent hightower #anti team green stans #anti alicent stans

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untaemedqueen · 5 years ago

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The Price Of Love (M)

Idol!Taehyung x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader

WordCount: 8.1k

Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Exes To Lovers!AU

Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Belly Worship, Fingering, Praise, Squirting, Fellatio, Degradation (Slut), Big Dick!Taehyung, Slight Dom!Taehyung, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Pregnant Sex, Crying During Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Possessive!Taehyung, Cream Pie

A/N: I’ve had this in the WIPs for a few weeks and I’ve slowly but surely added to it until I got it to where I liked it. @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna heard all my bitching and moaning about it giving me a headache because I wanted it to feel right and real. So thanks to the forever squad for listening to my bitching! Enjoy!

"We can't keep doing this."

Those five words had stuck the fear of God into your boyfriend's heart as he sits across the hotel room with a glass of wine in hand. His hand falters, red wine sloshing around the glass before he widens his eyes at you.

"Excuse me? What?" He asks feebly as you avert your eyes from his handsome face.

"This. Us. We can't keep doing this like it'll work out." You say, bile rising in your throat at the words you choke out.

He opens his mouth in shock before setting down his wine glass. "No. No! I don't understand! We're fine!" He mumbles to himself before standing up.

You shy away from his touch as he crosses the bedroom to you. Your eyes are trained on the floor as you hear him whimper. His large hand falls to your thigh and you furrow your eyebrows before standing.

"Is it because of me spending time on the Weverse app or… I've been playing too many games with fans because I can-"

Your eyes flit to his, a cold stare shot at him cutting him off. "Kim Taehyung, I would never ask you to stop interacting with your fans. Are you kidding me?" You bark out at him before scoffing and grabbing your bag.

"Y/N. Please. There must be something I can do to make you stay. We've been together for two years… Tell me, I'll fix it." His voice is wrought with agony and you tense up hearing a sob rip through his throat.

"There's nothing to fix. We're done. I'm sorry." You tell him before grabbing your toiletries from the bathroom. You hear him shuffling behind you, sobbing and destroyed. You can't seem to turn around before glancing at him through the mirror. You've broken the most handsome man in the entire universe.

"I'll do anything. I'll-I'll leave tour more and fly to see you. Y/N please. We can get married like we've always talked about. Anything-I'll-" You zipper up your bag before closing your eyes. You want to cry, scream, kiss him- anything and everything. But, you did this and you have to go through with it. There's nothing worse than this. And, you still have to do it. "Bye, Tae."

"Taehyung?" His name snaps him out of his memory. His fingers run through his hair before putting his temple to the van door.

"Yeah. Yeah. I'm good." He whispers to his best friend before looking out the dark tinted window as the van drives towards their apartments.

"You've been thinking about her lately." Jimin whispers to him before folding his arms. Jimin always loved you, you were so dear to him and he could never truly understand why you left Taehyung in that way. You ruined him. You created a shell of a man. But, you must have had your reasons. You didn't do things carelessly.

"I wonder how she is." Taehyung whispers before closing his eyes. He can still see the way you laughed, how you would dance around the kitchen making food. How your bare feet would slide across the heated tiled floor. His hand drifts over his heart before putting on his sunglasses. "You should call her." Jimin whispers quietly before pressing his plush lips into a straight line.

"Why? She wants nothing to do with me." He whispers before looking out the window as people go about their business.

Seoul was so fast moving and Taehyung was slowly becoming a snail. The van stops at a light and he sighs as he watches the people go to and fro. It's a mere second that he catches sight of the black wrap dress he bought you. His hands press up against the window as he jumps out of his seat.

It was you, there was no mistaking it. Or else, he's gone crazy. Your hair was its natural color again, not dyed like six months ago. You were walking with the tide of people, hand on your stomach. Taehyung gasps loudly before banging on the car window. You're pregnant?!

"Chim! Look! It's Y/N! She-She's-" Jimin jumps over his shoulder bag before looking where Taehyung is pointing.

"Where?!" He asks loudly as Taehyung turns his head towards his best friend with a smile.

"There! At the corner!" Turning his head back, his shoulders slouch as his eyes frantically look for you.

"Tae...I don't see her." Jimin whispers before sitting back down in his seat.

"She was there! I saw her! She was…" His voice trails off before putting his hands over his face. You were pregnant.

His apartment was cold. You used to put on the heating system for him when you knew he was coming home. You used to have dinner made with a big smile on your face. He would lather you in kisses, hug you so tightly like you would disintegrate to dust if he let you go. Throwing his bag to the floor, he mindlessly pads across the cold floor before laying down on the couch.

"I'm going crazy." He whispers before sobbing loudly. His wavy black hair falls into his eyes as he presses his face into the couch cushion.

The couch dips and paws climb up his body before his arms encircle his dog.

"Tan. I'm going crazy. I saw mommy today." He mumbles to his dog as he licks his tear streaked cheeks. With a breathless sigh he wipes at his running nose with the back of his hand before closing his eyes.

"I saw her. I swear to God. She looked...beautiful." He whispers as his jaw goes slack. Yeontan lays on his chest, furry face burying into his neck as he stomps his foot on the couch.

"I know what I saw. She's pregnant." He mumbles before pulling out his phone. Jimin told him to delete your number a hundred times over and you were still there.

'My Love'

Taunting him to shame. He ignores his innermost screaming. His mind begging him not to crack open this closet filled with skeletons but he presses the call button anyway.

His palms begin to sweat. Heart beating voraciously loud in his ears as he stares up at the ceiling. It begins to beat harder when he hears you.

"Hello?"

"You aren't serious! You can't leave!" Taehyung begs as he chases you down the hotel corridor. He grabs your arm as you call for the elevator. You turn to him, eyes glassy with tears as you look up at him.

His nose was pink, cheeks streaked with tears of agony as he holds your shoulders. "Please. I love you. Don't leave me." He whispers, voice cracking as he begins to sob again.

"Don't make this hard. You know how I feel about you too." You whisper before closing your eyes and begging for the elevator to hurry the fuck up.

"If you love me then don't go. Stay. I'll do anything. Please, baby. Please." His voice trails off as he rubs his thumb over your jaw line.

"It'll be better off this way. I'm a burden and I won't have you ruining your career." You tell him before swallowing thickly. The elevator bell dings and you sigh before pulling away from him harshly.

"Y/N." Pleading is the only way to describe his voice and you sniff gently before getting on to the elevator.

"I love you, Tae. I'm sorry." You whisper before pressing the ground floor and looking away as the doors close.

"I saw you." Taehyung's voice comes out gruffer than he means to. But, goddamn does your voice fill him with emotion.

"What?!" You say loudly and Taehyung swears he can hear glass break on your end of the phone call.

"I saw you today. When we were driving back from the airport. In that black dress." He puts his hand on his forehead before pressing his lips into a straight line.

"I thought you were in Japan." You whisper and he scoffs loudly.

"We came back a day early." He mumbles before setting Yeontan on the floor as he stands up.

"Oh, Tae. I'm so sorry but I think you're confused or-"

"Don't do that! Don't you dare do that to me! Don't make me seem like I'm fucking crazy like all the other guys do! I SAW YOU! And you're- you were- are…" He can't finish his sentence as he walks towards the large windows of his apartment.

He stares down at the Seoul traffic as you stammer on syllables. "I should-"

"Should go? No. Don't you do this to me, Y/N!" He yells as he presses his index finger to the spotless glass.

"I'm coming over." You say before hanging up the phone. He looks down at his phone before putting his forehead to the window.

"Oh Christ." He whispers shakily before putting his hand over his mouth.

It takes you 30 minutes to get to his apartment. 30 minutes for Taehyung to go back and forth in his living room with Yeontan on his tail.

One arm tucked under the other as his hand presses to his mouth. He's rehearsed what he is going to say to you. He's going to look you in the eye and tell you how fucked up you made him. How absolutely soulless he's been without you. A global star turned into a mere shell because of you. Nothing has been the same. Food doesn't taste the same. And yet…

The doorbell rings and he jumps out of his skin before jogging over to the mirror. He fixes his hair, brushes his thumb over some stray eyeliner before puffing out his cheeks.

What was he going to say again? You ring the doorbell again as Yeontan scurries over to the door.

"Okay. You can do this...Just… Tell her." He whispers, and with a shaking hand he grips the door handle.

Swinging the door open, you collectively gasp at one another. Taehyung's mouth opens before blinking.

"Hi." You whisper to him as he falters backwards.

"I knew it." He mumbles before turning away from you and walking towards the couch on shaky legs. You close the door behind you before folding your arms, almost as if it's a defense mechanism.

Taehyung turns his head to you before giving an incredulous scoff.

"I had s-so many things I wanted to say to you." He says before his body slams onto the couch.

You follow after him, but not before picking up Yeontan as he jumps on your leg excited. He hasn't seen you in so long and he can't help but yap happily as you kiss the top of his head. Taehyung plants his elbows on his knees as he buries his face into his hands.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." He whispers before leaning back and letting his head loll onto the lip of the couch. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly before watching you trudge in front of him. He lets out a disbelieving laugh before looking back up at the ceiling.

"Y/N. What the fuck!" He yells before closing his eyes.

"I'm sorry." You whisper as Yeontan shifts in your arms. He chuckles to himself before slapping his forehead with the palm of his hand.

"You're sorry? Oh. Good. Sorry." He says before sitting up quickly. You jump slightly before clearing your throat.

"I thought it would be best if I left so you didn't have to deal with-" He holds his hand up silencing you.

"How dare you?" He whispers before his eyes meet yours. He wants to cry, to break something. But, he can't get over how beautiful you look.

"Y/N. How dare you do this to me." He mumbles before watching Yeontan lick your cheek.

You step closer to him and he spreads his legs like it was normal. Like you hadn't left six months ago. Stepping inside of them, he reaches out to you before leaning forward.

"How dare you hide this from me. Like I wouldn't fight tooth and nail for you and-" He presses his hand to your growing stomach before pulling away as if he has been burnt.

You recoil from him before turning around. You put your hand over your mouth before shaking your head.

"This was a bad idea." You mumble before setting Yeontan down on the floor. Taehyung watches you press your hand to your back before slowly standing upright. He takes a sharp inhale through his nose before jumping over the couch.

"Don't you take my child away from me." He says quickly as he presses his back against the front door.

You whimper before closing your eyes. "You left me, knowing you were pregnant with my child?" He asks quietly, his voice creeping through the large living room as he stares at your closed eyes.

"Yes." You whisper back and he feels as if he's been shot through the heart.

"Why? Y/N how could you fucking do this to me? I loved you...I love you." His hand cups your face and it's almost frightening how comfortable it is. How at peace you feel by his touch.

"Because you're busy and you don't have time for a child or...or love." You say as his hand snakes from your cheek to the back of your neck pulling you closer to him.

"Don't you dare say what I am and what I'm not. If you gave me the choice I would have stuck by your side through everything. Your morning sickness, your tiredness, your… whatever other things pregnant people do." He finishes off in a mumble that makes a giggle break free from you as you open your eyes.

"I was scared." You tell him and he can only scoff at your words.

"You were scared...I love you, Y/N. What's there to be scared of when we're together?" He asks as his thumb brushes over your collarbone.

"Oh I don't know, your billion managers, the boys, ARMY. I could go on." You tell him as he pulls you closer. Your stomach presses against his body and he shudders at the feeling.

"Jesus Christ." He swallows thickly before looking down at the obstruction between the both of you.

"Do you love me? Still?" He asks and your eyes look up at his as his mocha irises gleam with uncertain emotion.

"Yes. I still love you." You say before pointing at your stomach. He snorts gently, a breathy noise his nose before grabbing your hand.

It's almost frightening how calming you are to him. He should be pissed- furious even. But you, here in front of him like this is like a dream.

He wants the comfort of holding you in his arms back. He wants to be able to lay in bed with you on off days for hours, playing with your fingers and singing mindlessly with you.

He just wants you back in his reality.

He wants you back in his bed.

"Come lay down with me. It's late." He says and you stay rooted in the spot as he pulls you.

"This isn't the same Tae. We aren't the same." You tell him sternly. To which he rolls his eyes before tugging you harder.

You whine his name gently and if you didn't have his child six months and growing in your stomach, it would be like nothing has changed. The whirlwind of emotions comes to a halt inside of him as he intertwines your fingers with yours as you walk down his long hallway.

There are so many questions he has but he didn't know if he needed the answers, to be honest. Just thinking of all the things you'd been through alone because you were trying to save him in some fucked up way sets him in a weird sort of comfort.

He lays down before rubbing the spot next to him. "You're on my side of the bed." You tell him and he smirks before rolling over.

"I thought you'd forgotten." He says before putting his hand under his cheek. You sit down gingerly and he moves instantaneously to help you lay back like an instinct.

"I'm okay. Don't worry. I can even open jars by myself." You say giving a fake gasp.

Tae chuckles before looking at your stomach as he lays his head in the pillow. "Having my baby is giving you super strength? You can open a jar now? Color me impressed." You laugh rolling your eyes before putting your hand on your stomach.

He sits up before taking a deep breath. "You fucked up, you realize that don't you? You took away the chance of me watching my child grow all these months."

You sigh, the guilt eating away at you as you hold up two fingers. He raises an eyebrow before kissing the back of your hand.

"Two? Two what?" He asks as he leans closer to you. His lips drift over the skin of your arm and his eyes flutter shut at the familiar softness.

"Twins." You mumble.

His lips stop and his eyes snap open. It begins then. A voraciously nervous laugh bubbles forth from him. "I cannot believe this." He says through laughter before burying his face into the pillow.

You swallow nervously as he sighs loudly. "You need to promise me you aren't going anywhere again. You'll stay. We'll get married like we always wanted to and...and we'll be a family."

You take a sharp breath through your teeth as he looks at you. You nod before intertwining your fingers, "I promise." You whisper as he leans in.

"Good. I've missed you so much that I felt my world was crashing down." Taehyung mutters out before pressing his forehead to yours.

"Can I touch?" He asks before looking down at your stomach.

"Of course you can." You reply, almost breathlessly.

He takes a sharp breath before looking at your belly.

"Oh Jesus." He whispers before flexing his hands and fingers. His hands gently lower themselves and you watch as his eyes become glassy.

He presses his hands to your stomach before looking down. He gives a wry laugh as tears begin to stream down his cheeks. "Wow! I mean...Wow! That's my… These are my babies." He whispers before closing his eyes.

You giggle gently as you wipe at your eyes as tears trail out of the corners and down your cheeks.

"I have to make up for so much lost time...I-" A kick comes from your stomach and you flinch gingerly with a chuckle as it twinges your rib. He gasps gently, putting a hand to your face to make sure you're alright before putting his cheek to your stomach.

"Hi. I'm your dad. Mommy's been taking care of you because she was afraid but there's no need to be frightened. I'm here now. Daddy's here." He whispers to your stomach before lifting up your shirt.

"Fuck." He curses as he puts his forehead to your belly. You giggle before running your fingers through his hair. You feel the guilt setting into your bones, but it comes to a heady stop at his words.

"You're huge." His voice is muffled into your skin and you gasp loudly before slapping his shoulder.

"Rude! You can say it nicer!" You chide him, making him laugh.

"You're beautiful. As always." He whispers before kissing your stomach. His lips, so warm and soft it has your eyebrows furrowing together as he crawls up the bed to lay beside you.

"I really missed you. My heart ached for you. I felt so hopeless without you." He kisses your forehead before sighing. You run your hand over his cheek before turning on your side.

"Easy. Do you need like, a pillow or like...a warm water bottle?" You nod gently and he takes the pillow from underneath his head before propping it underneath your side.

"Also this isn't England back when King Henry was alive. Who needs warm water bottles?" You quip back with a laugh.

"I need to learn what pregnant women need and want. And I have to buy all different stuff for our babies and-" You smile widely as you put your finger on his lips.

"Do you want to know their gender?" You ask him as you run your fingers through his hair.

"Yes! Please!" He begs as he runs his hand over your engorged skin.

"Twin girls." He chuckles to himself before sniffling. Squeezing his eyes tightly he pulls your head to his chest, letting your belly rest on his body.

"Wow. Three to one, huh?"

"Eh. Well more like three to seven." You tell him and he laughs loudly before nodding. "The guys are going to get so excited. Especially Jimin."

Laying in bed with you is something Taehyung had only dreamed about the past six months. And now, here he was.

His thumb caresses your bottom lip as you speak and exhaustion isn't a word in his vocabulary as you talk about the past six months.

"Have you been with anyone else?" Taehyung asks you and you give him an incredulous look before pointing at your stomach.

"I haven't even been with myself." You murmur out making him chuckle. His big box smile graces his face before kissing your lips gently.

"You? Have you?" You ask him as you run your fingers down his bare chest. He shivers at the contact before nodding slightly.

"Yes. The company paid a woman to...to try to get rid of my terrible thoughts. Tried to get rid of my loneliness but it couldn't be helped… I moaned your name and only yours. She felt...disgusting. Not like you at all." He whispers as his eyes look past you as if he's reliving a disturbing memory. You hum to him before kissing the birth mark on his nose.

"At least you didn't forget about me."

"Never. I'd never forget." He tells you as he runs his hands up your stomach. With a groan you lay on your back before smiling gently at him. His eyes glance over your body before licking his lips.

You were simply glowing with his children within you. And, he wouldn't have had any sexual intentions if your nipples weren't going stiff and peaking out beneath your lacy bra and thin tank top.

"You haven't even touched yourself, you say?" He asks gently as he sits up. You hum to him and he runs his finger over your bare stomach.

"You look beautiful. I told you, you would be divine with my children inside of you. Didn't I?" You give a snort as he runs his hands over your clothed thighs.

"Can I help you? Y'know cum?" He asks, tongue sliding over his bottom lip before smirking at you. It's the way his big eyes drink you in that you find your thighs unconsciously pressing together.

You hadn't thought about the need for relief in all these months, if you're being honest. You were too busy being nervous and riddled with grief.

But here now. As Taehyung's hands run over your clothed thighs, you feel comfortable. You feel at ease. And, the need for relief is coming back in waves so large they could capsize a boat.

Crawling over you, he minds your stomach before bending down and kissing your lips. The kiss is filled with heated passion, the both of you pouring out your worries and the way you've missed each other for six months.

Your fingers intertwined into his soft locks as he holds himself up from your body.

The tip of his tongue glides over your bottom lip and like an instinct your mouth opens for him.

He groans into your mouth, a needy carnal noise of please, as his smooth wet muscle glides over yours. Tugging on his hair harder, he whines before pulling away from you.

His arms get weak and his stomach presses into yours before pulling away. The sound of his gentle laugh gets your stomach doing somersaults inside of you.

"Like trying to fuck during an obstacle course." He mumbles, earning a laugh from you.

He taps your arms as he licks his lips and you sit up long enough for your tank top to be discarded to the floor.

"Fuck." He lowly curses as his thighs straddle yours.

He takes his time kissing over your peony scented skin, the scent taking him back years and he can't help the ball that begins to form in his throat. He could cry out, screaming seven ways to hell as fat tears rolled down his cheeks. But instead, he will enjoy this moment. He has to. You're his again.

His lips pluck at the delicate skin of your neck, leaving small patches of pink and reds in his wake.

His hands find your breasts, squeezing them gently. He adores lace on you and now, with the added cup sizes he could quite literally say that he's in heaven.

His hand snakes around your back before unclipping your bra with the snap of his index finger and his thumb. You hum pleased at the skill you taught him and he chuckles before pressing a soft kiss to your lips.

"Look at you." He murmurs reverently as you lay back down before him.

"Be gentle." You whisper to him and he nods understanding.

His head bows down, his black hair falling into his eyes as his lips wrap around your dark areola.

Small keens and mewls leave your lips as his hands press harder against your thighs, kneading the flesh with the tips of his fingers.

"Tae." You whine out as he locks your legs in place, squeezing his knees to keep them shut beneath him.

It's a dizzying kind of elated emotion you feel. Your hands drift over his clothed shoulders and you give an almost childish whine as you tug at the cloth.

His mocha irises meet yours before pulling away and taking off his shirt. His lips are back onto your breast in a matter of seconds.

Your fingernails leave small red lines over his back as he flicks at your nipple with the tip of his tongue.

One of his hands presses to the distended side of your belly, almost as if to make sure how big you are so he doesn't hurt you.

"I fucking missed you." He mumbles as he switches his attention to your free breast.

You can feel your arousal soaking your panties. It's been so long since you've been given this beautiful attention.

With a whimper, you tug at his hair.

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth before narrowing his eyes at you.

"Have you forgotten how to behave, baby girl? You've forgotten who you belong to?" Taehyung asks.

The authority in his voice makes you shiver. Biting your bottom lip, you shake your head releasing his hair from your grasp.

"I wanted to be gentle with you, seeing as how you've been keeping my little girls so safe inside of you but I think you want to be punished." His voice is filled with this natural cockiness that has your chest constricting with elation.

His hands hook into the sides of your sweatpants and you meet his eyes as he presses open mouthed kisses to your stomach.

Your gentle gasps and whimpers have his hard cock twitching and pressing into the fabric of his loose grey pants.

"I-I haven't shaved or gotten waxed…" Your voice becomes weak towards the end of your sentence and he clicks his teeth in reply.

"When have I ever cared about that? Ever?" He asks seriously. His lips peck yours before tugging down your pants.

He finds himself smirking at the sight. Small strands of arousal break and cling to your sodden lips as he throws your clothes behind him.

He hums to himself as he spreads your legs. This was akin to home for him. He was so sincerely excited to have you back but, being between your legs it's like you never left.

"You can't blow on it." You tell him quickly as his body bows down.

He picks his head up above your belly before winking at you and nodding.

His hands wrap around your thighs, keeping them locked in their open place. His thumbs drift over the bottom of your belly as he watches your cunt clutch around nothingness.

You were so desperately horny now, just the hot ragged breaths you feel from him have your clit aching with need.

You couldn't see him above your stomach, which added this mysterious intrigue to what he was going to do next.

“Shit.” He whispers and you find your heart skipping a beat before his lips encircle your clit.

He devours you as if he’s been starved of you- because he has.

He adores your moans as they crescendo in the quiet room.

You taste sweeter than before but it’s something so familiar that it drives him insane. He finds himself moaning against you, clutching harder onto your thighs as you writhe beneath him at the sheer pleasure.

His finger prods at your entrance as he continues to lavish upon you. You can feel this invisible band inside of you tightening so quickly, it’s been so long since you’ve felt him adore you in this way.

Entering his finger inside of you, he pulls away just to watch your eyebrows furrow from the amazing feeling.

“God, you’re so fucking tight.” He whispers as he kisses the skin of your stomach.

His long finger curls inside of you, expertly knowing where the soft patch of nerves is that will help you become undone beneath him.

“Tae!” You whine as your hips lift off of the bed.

He loves that. The way you moan his name in your heated ecstasy. He wants more of it, to hear you blubber and call his name out to the heavens.

Sliding another finger in, his lips leave your stomach before encircling your clit once more.

Your hands grip at the sheets beside you, white knuckling them completely.

Your heartbeat is in your ears as you grind your needy cunt to his face.

“Good girl.” He praises you as your eyes flutter closed.

You can feel the pleasure coming to a head as he rears back before spitting on your soaked lips.

Shivering at the feeling, your head lolls back as you lose yourself.

He can feel your pussy throbbing and pulsing around his fingers. He goads you on with quick licks with the tip of his tongue.

His name falls like a prayer from your lips before gasping. White spots begin to dot the inside of your eyelids and you can barely hold on to your sanity.

“Cum for me, baby girl.” He whispers against you.

Curling his fingers fast inside of you, the breath is pulled from your lungs as you let out a low whine.

You orgasm with a muddled mind, moaning his name so loudly he can practically feel it reverberating through his body. Your cum squirts onto his hand as your back bows off of the bed.

Ears ringing with white noise, you can barely hear his praises as his hand roams over your stomach.

“God, you’re so perfect.” He says as he pulls out of you slowly.

He waits patiently as you come down from your high, kissing at your hardened nipples.

You feel almost drunk and sluggish off of his pleasure.

Opening your eyes, you’re met with the handsome man's smirk.

“It’s been too long since you’ve squirted on me.” He whispers earning a laugh from you as he pulls down his grey pants.

For you, it’s been too long since you’ve seen his impressive length. It’s award worthy, seriously. You can feel your mouth watering as you take his hardened length into your sights. The soft rose veins that pepper it in its entirety and the mushroom tip that’s reddened with need, call out to you as you sit up.

He hums nervously as he sits up on his knees.

“I don’t know, baby. Can you?” He asks as you spread your legs to accommodate your stomach.

You wrinkle your nose at his sweetness as he runs his hand over your cheek.

“I’ll be fine.” You say as you inch your way closer to him.

“I don’t know. I mean, you might be uncomf-” His concern is cut off with a sharp groan as your hand wraps around the long length of his cock.

He whimpers as his bottom lip tucks between his teeth. Your free hand finds its way beneath your stomach as your head bows down.

His hand scrambles to grab the headboard of his bed as you kiss over his shaft.

“Agh, fuck.” He mutters as his eyes close.

Your lips are so warm and soft against him, precum begins to pool at his slit before lazily traipsing down. You lick up the precum, moaning at the distant yet familiar taste.

He takes a sharp breath through his teeth as your tongue swirls over the tip.

“Fuck, just like that baby girl.” He curses as his free hand combs through your hair.

He can remember all the times you’ve become sloppy on his cock. He adored seeing your spit and his precum streaming down your chin and neck, his cock twitches and throbs in your mouth at the memory.

He grabs your hair into a makeshift ponytail before lolling his head back as your mouth sheathes his cock.

Whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth, you stroke as you fuck his cock into your mouth.

“Yeah, fuck. You like that, don’t you? Like my cock in your slut mouth.” He groans out.

Your eyes stare at his small abs as they contort and press to his taut skin. His golden skin shines in the moonlight as a sheen of sweat envelops him.

Working your mouth faster on him, you can’t help but feel a new wave of arousal sweep through you as he moans your name.

His hips thrust toward your mouth as he lets your hair go. His hand clutches to the back of your head as he looks down at you.

“Open up, baby girl. Swallow my cock.” He commands and you whimper in reply.

Swallowing around him, he moans loudly as your nose nestles to his pubic bone.

“Jesus.” He whines as he pulls your head down faster on him.

Your gag reflex springs into action as he begins to fuck your throat. Tears make your eyes glassy before rolling down your cheeks.

Spit and precum stream down your chin as his eyes stay locked on yours.

“You’re so fucking messy. Look at you, shit.” He moans through clenched teeth as he holds you down on his cock.

You moan at his words, your clit rubbing against his bedsheets at his brutal actions.

Letting go of the headboard of his bed, his hand lands on your stomach as he holds you close to him.

His long, thick cock begins to thicken and throb as you run your tongue over his length with every thrust.

“Fuck! Y/N! Such a little slut! Your mouth feels so good on my cock. Taking it so well.” He whines out as you grip on to his thighs.

You can tell he’s close by the way he whimpers and drives the head of his cock deeper into your throat.

“Swallow my cum and show me how fucking sorry you are that you took my girls away from me.” He seathes out through his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut.

His face painted in pure bliss is something you could never get out of your head and seeing it above you now is just heaven on Earth.

He whimpers your name over and over, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he presses your head down deeper on his cock.

“Yes! Fuck!” He whines as his ropes of cum meet your throat.

You swallow around him, relishing in the warm, salty taste. His body shakes through the pleasure, thighs twitching rapidly.

He lets out a long groan, the sound going straight to your core as he pulls out of your mouth slowly.

Tapping his index finger to your cheek, you open your mouth for him as he angles your chin up to see inside your mouth, “Good girl, baby.” He praises you before kissing your forehead.

He stands off of the bed with shaky legs before sighing happily.

You lay back down as his hands hook behind your knees. You giggle as he pulls your body down to the edge of the bed. He kisses over your stomach as your feet find their place on the floor.

He stands up tall before you as he spreads your legs.

“You see how horny I am for you?” He asks playfully as his cock still stands to attention.

His hands palm at your breasts, squeezing and rolling them gently. He runs his cock through your sodden lips, coating the underside of his cock in your arousal.

“Your pussy feels so warm.” He murmurs out in wonder before prodding at your entrance.

You bite your bottom lip in anticipation. Running his hands over your sides, he enters his cock into you slowly.

Both of your mouths drop open in tandem at the amazing feeling.

“Fuck.” You whine as his head lolls back.

He buries himself to the hilt before stilling inside of you, letting you get adjusted to his large length.

“You look so beautiful underneath me.” He says. Your heart flutters at his words, cunt clutching around his length.

He smiles down at you. The smile holding all these elated emotions he could never put into words. He was so amazed to even be here with you again.

Your body was soaked in the white moonlight as it shines through the large bay windows of his bedroom. He has never seen anything more beautiful.

“You’re never leaving again. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously as he pulls out of you slowly.

“Yes.” You reply earnestly.

He snaps his hips back into you, the bulbous head of his cock dragging against your plush walls. Your hands grip at the edge of the bed as you moan his name loudly.

He sets a relentless pace as his hands caress your stomach.

“Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good. So tight and wet for me.” He groans.

“Tae!” You whimper as your fingers pinch and roll your nipples between your fingertips.

All of his thrusts held a deeper meaning and he could practically cry out of happiness to be here with you in this very minute.

Tucking his bottom lip between his teeth, his hands grip harder at your stomach as he snaps his hips harder against you.

“You are mine, forever.” Each word is punctuated with a harsh thrust that has your head swimming in white-hot pleasure.

His hand reaches the apex of your thighs, he rubs furious circles on your clit as your back bows off of the bed.

Your legs spread wider for him as he moans your name.

You were like putty in his hands, becoming boneless and sinking into his large bed as he fucks you so well.

He could feel your pussy begin to throb and pulse around him, begging for release around him.

He moans pleased at how easy it is to please you, “Cum on my cock, baby. I feel it. Shit.” He moans.

With just a few more thrusts, you were cumming on his cock. You were blubbering and moaning for him with gentle whines as he fucks you through your orgasm.

“Christ! You got so tight!” He says before pulling out of you.

Whimpering at the loss, your eyes find his as he gives a breathless smile.

He twirls his finger and you understand what he wants immediately. He helps you turn over, grabbing a pillow for you and putting it underneath your stomach.

“You okay?” He asks as he positions himself at your entrance once more.

“Yeah.” You whisper.

His lips kiss over your back as he thrusts himself back inside you.

Your voice was hoarse and dry from the moans and pleasure you’ve been receiving but you can’t help but want more as his hands grip at your hips.

He pulls you back fervently on his cock as he kisses over your shoulder.

It’s the familiar scent of peony that makes him feel home. It drives him closer to the edge as he holds you so close to him.

Standing back up, he feels his throat tightening as the globes of your ass jiggle with each thrust.

“Goddamn.” He moans before spanking you hard.

You gasp loudly, burying your face into the sheets as your skin smarts from his slap.

He groans at the noise you make before slapping your ass again.

“You look so fucking good with a red ass.” He moans out before slapping your other cheek.

You can feel your arousal dripping down his balls and onto your thighs below. It’s almost animalistic how he drives himself inside of you.

“Cum for me one more time.” He says as he wraps his hand around the back of your neck.

Your moans and loud whimpers earn praise from him as he snakes his arm around your stomach and to the apex of your thighs.

“Your clit is so fucking swollen.” He mumbles as he begins to rub circles.

“Taehy-ung!” You cry out as your body begins to shake from the over-stimulation.

“Take it like the good girl you are. C’mon.” He mumbles as he presses his chest to your back.

“I-I can’t!” You whine but your body betrays you as your legs spread wider for him, bucking back against him with the little strength you have left.

“Yes, you can. Your pregnant cunt is wetting my cock so nicely, baby girl. You’re dying to cum again on my big cock.” He mumbles in your ear.

His index finger and thumb pinch your clit gently and you can feel tears welling up in your eyes as he grips at your hip harder.

You can hear his ragged breaths in your ear, setting your nerve ending aflame.

“You’re going to cum on my cock again like a good girl. Show me how much your slut cunt missed me.” He murmurs before kissing the shell of your ear.

The invisible band begins to tighten within you again for the third time and your eyes squeeze shut at the feeling.

“Your pregnant pussy is dripping all over my cock, begging to put another load into your needy cunt. You love my cock, don’t you?” He seethes as he fucks you quicker.

“Y-Yes!” You whine as he pinches your clit again.

“That’s right. You missed my cock inside your pretty little pussy.” He lifts himself off of your back and the sound of skin slapping skin resounds through the stagnant air.

“God!” He groans out and you can feel his cock thickening inside of you.

“Tae! Fuck, I’m-I’m cumming!”

“That’s a good girl. Cum for me.” He moans.

Your thighs quake and your face buries into the sheets as you orgasm for the third time. With muffled ears you can hear him cursing behind you, bucking into you with all of his strength as he drives himself to his release.

“I love you so fucking much. Tell me who this pregnant pussy belongs to.” He says as he grips onto your hips.

“You, only you.” You whimper out, voice riddled with exhaustion.

“That’s right.”

He groans loudly as he reaches his end, “God, I’m cumming baby! Fuck!”

Ropes of cum lather the walls of your pussy as his head lolls back. Weakly you look behind you as you watch him bask in the glory. He was so handsome and so perfect. How could you ever have left him?

You can see a few tears fall from his eyes as he lifts his head back up and he wipes them away quickly before pulling out of you. He hums to himself as your pussy begins to cream with his cum.

He helps you lay back down and you find your eyes becoming heavy with exhaustion.

“I love you.” He whispers as he fixes the pillow beneath your head.

“I love you too.” You whisper as your eyes become lidded.

Wiping his cock with his briefs, he looks you over before sighing loudly.

“Don’t...Don’t leave me again. Please.” He begs your sleeping form before laying down beside you.

He lays his head on your stomach before looking out the window as the moon shines brightly into the room. Pressing his lips to your distended skin, his eyes squeeze shut.

His forehead presses to your stomach as he sighs. Now that he has you back, you can’t leave again. You make him feel whole, you make him complete.

He isn’t Kim Taehyung without you, and he hopes you know that.

It took him a long time to fall asleep last night.

He stayed up just looking at you, putting his hand on his children. He cried a few times too. He was so happy, so confused, so completely in love with you.

Waking up this morning, he groans as his hand reaches for your belly only to be met with cold sheets.

His eyebrows furrow before he’s jumping up in bed.

“Babe?! Y/N?!” He calls loudly as his neck cranes to look into the en suite bathroom.

It was dark and he found this overwhelming darkness creeping into his heart.

“Babe!” He yells as he jumps out of bed.

His throat constricts and he feels lightheaded as he throws on his pajama pants.

“Y/N!” He screams at the top of his lungs as he rushes out of the bedroom and down the hallway.

His eyes fill with tears and his hand clutches at his heart.

“No!” He yells as he skids into the empty living room.

“Fuck!” He bawls before leaning against the kitchen island. He buries his face into his hands as he sobs loudly.

“No.” He cries feebly. His legs feel weak and he has to will himself to stand up.

The front door opens with laughs and Taehyung’s head springs up as you enter with Jimin and Jeongguk behind you.

The room falls silent as he shoves off of the island counter and barrels towards you.

He disregards his closest friends as he pulls you into a hug. You hug him back, as his body shakes in your arms.

“Hey.” You whisper concerned as he buries his face into your hair.

“Where’d you go? I was…” He trails off as he sobs quietly.

“I went to get breakfast. You didn’t have anything in the apartment because you went on tour. I ran into Chim and Gukkie in the lobby.” You say as you pull away.

His hand caresses your cheek as you wipe his tears from his face.

“I thought you left...left me.” He hiccups before pulling you back to his chest. You close your eyes as you hold him as tightly as you can.

“I’m not going anywhere Tae.” You whisper as he looks over wearily at his two friends.

Their eyes show sorrow for him and he closes his eyes tightly before relishing in your hug.

You stayed like this for a few minutes until his heart had calmed down. Pulling away, his hand lands on your belly before kissing your temple.

“I’m sorry. I should have left a note.” You say as he brushes some hair behind your ear.

He swallows nervously before nodding.

“She remembers what you like to eat too!” Guk says holding up the take away bag, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Taehyung gives him a small smile before pulling you over to the dining room table.

Sitting down, you put the food out onto the table before kissing your boyfriend's cheek.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You tell him as he intertwines your fingers and kisses the back of your hand.

He nods before looking at you. It would take time to get back to normal again, but there was no place he’d rather be than to be here with you.

“That’s the price of love though, isn’t it?” Jimin asks as he opens up his rice.

The both of you look at him as he begins to smile.

“The price of love?” Your boyfriend asks as he wraps his arm around your waist.

Chim nods with a hum, “You need to lose someone to remind you how much you missed them. That’s the price of love.”

Tae thinks on it for a second before rubbing your belly.

“I guess you’re right, just don’t make me pay the price again.” He tells you sternly, earning a smile from you as you cuddle into his side.

He smirks gently before kissing your forehead.

“I’ve paid my price time and time again.” He mumbles before grabbing his breakfast.

#taehyung #exes to lovers #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #btswritingcafe #btscreatorscorner #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #the price of love

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rapeculturerealities · 5 years ago

Link

Nadeen Ashraf had a burning secret. Earlier this summer, an anonymous Instagram page that named and shamed a man accused of being a notorious sexual harasser at Egypt’s most prestigious university was causing a sensation among her friends. Unknown to them, she was running it.

The experiment started, in a flash of fury, in the dead of night. On July 1 Ms. Ashraf, a 22-year-old philosophy major, was up late to cram for an exam the next morning when she became preoccupied with the fate of a Facebook post that had mysteriously disappeared.

Days earlier, a fellow student at the American University in Cairo had posted a warning on Facebook about a man she said was a sexual predator — a brash, manipulative young man from a rich family said to be harassing and blackmailing women on campus. Now, Ms. Ashraf realized as she stared at her laptop, the post had been deleted without explanation.

Enraged, she set aside her textbooks and created an Instagram page under a pseudonym — @assaultpolice — that identified the man, Ahmed Bassam Zaki, alongside his photo and a list of accusations of misdeeds against women.

“This guy had been getting away with stuff since the 10th grade,” she said. “Every time a woman opened her mouth, someone taped it shut. I wanted to stop that.”

After creating the page, Ms. Ashraf flopped into bed at 6 a.m. and slept through her exam. But when she awoke, she found hundreds of notifications from people who applauded her post, and about 30 messages from women who confided that they, too, had been assaulted by Mr. Zaki. Some said they had been raped.

An Egyptian #MeToo moment was born.

Within a week, Mr. Zaki had been arrested, the @assaultpolice account had amassed 70,000 followers and the page had prompted an outpouring of testimonies from other Egyptian women fed up with being humiliated and violated.

Sexual assault is endemic in Egypt — a United Nations study in 2013 found that 99 percent of women had experienced harassment or violence — but reporting it is notoriously difficult. Police officials are reluctant to register assault cases. Powerful institutions prefer to sweep accusations under the carpet. Even the families of victims, wary of scandal or feeling a misplaced sense of shame, tend to hush it up.

Ms. Ashraf’s bold page offered a new way.

“It was so wonderful,” she recalled, sitting in her family home. “A lot of the girls who got in touch said ‘I can’t believe I’m finally being heard.’ Even though it was a dark time, here they were speaking out. There was a sense of empowerment, of relief.”

On Sept. 1, the authorities charged Mr. Zaki, 21, with three counts of sexual assault against underage women, as well as multiple counts of blackmail and harassment. He remains in detention, awaiting trial.

But then a second high-profile case came to light, also through Ms. Ashraf’s Instagram page, that complicated matters. It promised to be even more sensational — an account of a gang rape by five young men in a five-star hotel overlooking the Nile. In recent weeks, however, the case has become clouded in a murk of counter-accusations and leaked images that threatens to overshadow the progress Ms. Ashraf has made — and possibly even reverse it.

“It’s very worrisome,” she said.

Ms. Ashraf, 22, is not an archetypal Egyptian rebel. She comes from an apolitical family that lives in a gated community in eastern Cairo — a place of manicured lawns and hushed streets lined with luxury vehicles where support for Egypt’s authoritarian leader, President Abdel Fattah el-Sisi, runs relatively high.

Her father owns a software company, her mother is a nutritionist, and her family stayed in the suburbs during the 2011 uprising that toppled Egypt’s longtime ruler, Hosni Mubarak, and the 2013 protests that ushered in a military takeover and Mr. el-Sisi’s rule.

When the #MeToo movement erupted in the United States in 2017, driven by accusations against the disgraced film producer Harvey Weinstein, she didn’t pay much attention — even if she did have her own experience of assault.

When she was 11 years old, a delivery man carrying laundry approached her as she walked down the street and slapped her bottom. “I had no idea why he was doing this,” she said. “It took me years to realize it was sexual.”

Public outrage over sexual assault has been growing in Egypt for about a decade, driven by high-profile attacks and, last year, harassment accusations against a famous soccer player. Even so, men continue to assault with impunity.

Working-class women run a gantlet of harassment in crowded public buses, Ms. Ashraf said. Among the rich, although dating is tolerated, young men exploit their family connections to misbehave with license, she said, and many parents reflexively blame their daughters when things go wrong.

“The first response is that it’s your fault,” she said. “How did he get your number? Why did you let him in?”

Ms. Ashraf initially shielded her activism from her parents, who thought she was locked into her bedroom to study. When she finally came clean to her father, weeks later, he was alarmed. “He went silent for three minutes,” she recalled. “Then he said, ‘You can’t tell anyone.’”

Ms. Ashraf told him it was a little late for that.

Is her brand of vigilantism open to abuse, or even fair? False accusations are a hazard, she admitted, adding that she tried to confirm the charges against Mr. Zaki through her network of friends. Even so, she had to delete one accusation, from his time as a business student in Spain, after it was found to be untrue.

In a country like Egypt, such methods were necessary, she said. “It’s not like the West. You can’t just walk into a police station.”

The real difficulties started, though, with the second high-profile case.

In late July, Ms. Ashraf posted to Instagram about five men in their 20s, from wealthy families, who were said to have gang-raped a teenage woman in a suite at the Fairmont Nile City hotel after a party in 2014. A video of the assault, made by a sixth man, had been distributed to their friends.

The accusation caused a sensation. Although Ms. Ashraf didn’t identify the accused men, copycat accounts sprang up on Instagram that did. One is the son of a prominent steel tycoon; another is the son of a well-known soccer coach.

Within one week the victim, who said her drink had been spiked by the assailants, approached the police and pressed charges. In late August, Egypt’s prosecutor general announced five arrests — two men in Egypt and three in Lebanon, who have since been extradited to Egypt. At least three other men are being sought.

But the investigation became muddied after investigators moved against several people who had come forward in connection to the case. Two men were accused of “debauchery” — code for homosexuality — based on photos found in their phones that were later leaked to the news media.

They have been detained, as has a woman — a former partner of one of those accused of rape — whose intimate photos have been leaked onto the internet.

Just who leaked those photos is unclear, and the cases are expected to come to court in the coming weeks. But they have already sent a chill through the ranks of Egyptian women who hoped it had become safer to report sexual violence.

“Fairmont has become our case of the century,” Ms. Ashraf said. “But it shouldn’t be a precedent for assault cases. There’s so many other things coming up that prove we are on the side of girls.”

After threats to her security, Ms. Ashraf suspended her Instagram page for 10 days in August. Now it is up and running again, but with a focus on educating women about their rights.

“You use the word consent all the time in English,” she said. “But I’ve never heard its Arabic equivalent — taraadi. So we try to translate these concepts, break them down, explain.”

The only name she’s made public of late is her own. Realizing that her identity was leaking out, and fearing retribution from men who were threatened by the page, she decided it was safest to end her anonymity. “I figured that if the bad guys knew who I was, good people should too,” she said. “There’s protection in that.”

#voices #survivors #activism #social media #instagram #ashraf

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adelaidedrubman · 4 years ago

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Wildfire chapter five we finally did it yo!!!!!!

and as you can see from todays meme, best girl is here. sorry for the wait and thank you to everyone who gave me advice or encouragement on this, especially those of you who suggested i did need to cut the baby in half and make it a two parter. (part 2 coming up soon).

also very short deleted scene (set at beginning of chapter) below cut as a treat. i ended up cutting it because at the end of the day it was unnecessary and a little too goofy and distracted from the overall tone. (and as much as i like making john into just an entire joke, i still need him to be a little more genuinely threatening.) but also going with the "if it made me laugh i post" rule. below cut and warning for NSFW and small drug references.

She had stopped his heart, just for a second.

It was shock just prior to the makings of a full panic that froze in John's chest when he heard the unmistakable sound of a gunshot, a sound that stole the air from his lungs. A wave of worry at the possibilities built inside him, different scenarios playing out in his mind.

One of the guards posted to watch her shot her as she tried to escape. She'd managed to locate the guards and take them out. She'd turned the gun on herself rather than be turned over to him in the morning, that possibility cresting fear highest.

But just before it broke to wash over him, her voice met his ears again, that high-pitched yet gravelly timbre that melded so naturally with the piercing static of the radio.

"Or let me go when I asked," the speaker buzzed. "Because I'm back on the clock now, fucker."

He let her words hang in the air, trying to arrive at their meaning, swelling with gratitude that she was alive.

"And don't ever fucking talk to me like I'm an idiot again, you bastard."

Gratitude was quickly pushed away by heat burning at his cheeks, the pit of his stomach. A sweltering mix of shame and fury, a confusing and nauseating storm still too clouded with shock to feel tangible and articulable. His pride felt wounded, although he couldn't yet identify exactly how.

He almost didn't wish to know, would have preferred to sit his radio back at his nightstand and continue laying motionless and praying for sleep, as he had been when she'd first broken the lull with false promises of remorse. But John knew that wasn't really an option, so he flipped through the output frequencies instead until he landed on the number he'd designated for communications with the men posted to guard in camouflage the little nest he'd built for the lamb.

"I think you might have some updates for me," he hissed slow and deadly calm into the speaker.

The device in his hand remained dead for a tense moment, and he was about to try another frequency when he finally heard the crackle of a response.

"W-We've been trying to, sir. We all have."

"Brother," he replied curtly, coldly correcting the statured title.

"Brother!" Was the nearly instantaneous response.

"Brother," a second voice, slightly more distant, stumbled over the first in correction, getting louder with a rustle of what he assumed was the man grabbing the radio from his companion. "And we swear to the Father we kept eyes on the place the entire time, nobody had told us about the hole in the floor, we thought we were supposed to keep watching from a distance, and —"

"You can profess your apologies later," he cut the man off. "Where is she now?"

Silence, and he drummed fingers against the plastic of the handheld impatiently as he waited.

"...You haven't heard?"

"Heard what?"

"She's in Fall's End, s… Brother."

"Well have them take her to my Gate right away," he replied, "I'm not risking another escape."

A cough, and the first man took over again. "She's in Fall's End, Brother John, but our brothers and sisters…"

"Yes?"

"Well, some of 'em managed to flee and get to Sunrise Farm, but…"

"But what?!"

"S-She took the town, sir."

The plastic of the radio cracked beneath his forceful grip, irritation crossing the line into fury as realization struck him, and his radio struck the paneling of his wall where he flung it without even processing the automatic movement of his arm.

"Brother John? Brother John?"

He barely registered the muffled calls back to him still buzzing in the air either, pounding a fist down at his nightstand.

She took the town.

He knew she'd been up to something, and that her parting gunshot had been a strike back at him, but he hadn't imagined the magnitude of her violence. He'd known something about her was corrupted from the moment he saw her, light brown eyes wide with what should have been fear at the impressive show of subtle intimidation he'd styled at the compound after being tipped off about the warrant, but instead resembled vacant indifference. But he had never imagined this.

He'd watched her kill, watched her put bullets in faithful men and women who meant her no harm, wished to make her their family. But he hadn't dreamed that the panicked little creature he watched flee into the woods could commit that level of violence while calmly feigning interest in salvation. Obviously he sensed the insincerity from the very beginning, hardly the first time someone tried to mislead him with an exaggerated show of sudden penance. He hadn't been foolish enough to actually believe the ruse, but he had been foolish enough to find it harmlessly adorable.

But it was nothing of the sort, it was entirely treacherous. And she was bloodthirsty beyond imagination.

She had fucking taken out an entire town while making small talk.

And to even imagine he'd allowed himself to think for a moment the subtle rasp of her labored breathing as she spoke to him had instead meant…

Fuck. No. He wasn't going to think about that, it's bad enough her coy little diversion had polluted his mind with the notion once.

He wouldn't make that mistake again, thinking her sins were limited to such simple, carnal impulses. No, he had been wrong. She was much more dangerous than that, she was a creature of violence and bloodshed.

She was slaughtered crusaders and conquered cities. She was cold-blooded murder without remorse. She was death itself.

She was inhuman, not even resting a single evening before clawing her way through the county to kill again.

And what would such a vicious beast even look like touching herself anyways? Certainly not the shy creep of fingers slowly reaching to explore between folds he'd instinctively conjured, no, she would be far more untamed than that, legs spread wide and fingers frantically pawing and plunging and possibly —

No, he reprimanded himself, halting his racing thoughts and the roll of hips he hadn't even realized had begun pumping the hardness in his pants against the mound of bunched up bedding to his side.

His knuckles bleached white from the force he gripped the blankets with, matching the white hot rage growing inside him. This was the epitome of insult to injury, not only did she take down his fucking army, she somehow managed to leave him humping his sheets like a teenage boy over it. And he was not fucking doing that.

He had to focus on what strategic information he could actually learn from the temporary defeat. She was adept at concealing her purpose, not easily shaken. She admonished him for speaking down to her, so she was prideful. Spiteful as well. And relentless, only someone with incredible physical endurance could do what she did as exhausted and injured as she must have been. Yes. These were the things he truly needed to reflect on.

Besides, he probably didn't even have it right the second time either, a depraved creature the likes of her wouldn't even be satisfied with her own slender, dainty fingers, deceptively powerful as they might be. He would wager his soul a shameless little heathen like that would need something more substantial, would —

NO. He was not going to think about that. She was a vile, merciless monster, who killed his brothers and sisters and defiled his thoughts and would probably look so pretty around his —

NO! He threw back the covers he had unconsciously begun chasing friction against again, standing and marching to burst through bedroom door with determination, incidentally grateful he had banished all his guards to patrols outside the ranch for the time being as he stormed down the hallway with arousal still visibly straining against the thin fabric of his pajamas.

If John Seed was going to sin, he was going to do it like a grown fucking man, not a hormone addled boy, he thought resolutely striding with arms swinging at his sides towards his office and the bag of grass still stashed in his desk.

He gave a silent prayer that Faith was telling the truth when she assured him it was a pure indica strain, he desperately needed to calm down.

#the last line is like... when i laughed but also when i knew it couldn't actually go in #you can take it as canon that he definitely smoked before getting on the radio again tho #also sorry to all of: Their Victims #otp: stop bothering these nice folks #fic: wildfire #wildfire meme tag

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magicflowershop · 5 years ago

Text

Kenma stared at his phone for the next five seconds, until a notification of a missed call popped on the screen. he immediately realized this as a mistake and pressed the answer button when another call appeared.

he braced himself.

“kenma!”

the voice from the call reflected loud and clear through his speaker. it was sweet yet vigorous. the excited tone bounced against him and around him, to have him feel the same.

he smiled to himself.

“hey, y/n.”

he hears you panting through the phone. “are you okay?”

“yes!” he heard you answer, breathing out the vowel of the word. “i’m sorry, but where are you right now?”

squeaking noises was heard out of the speaker. the boy assumed you might be out to look for him. his suspicions died down the second you replied that you were. Kenma called you stupid from the back of his mind, and excused himself from his team to go look for you too.

“i’m going to the garden,” he told you, walking his way down the stairs.

“garde- the garden?!”

Kenma winced at your yell that you soon apologized for. “i just walked passed the garden, geez. can you go somewhere else?”

“but i want to go to the garden.”

“stay where you are! i’m trying right now!”

“well, try to go to the garden.”

the sides of his mouth rose up to his cheeks as he rushed down the stairs, heading his way to the garden as he said. his grin grew wider after hearing whines from his phone speaker. the fun part of his life has come back, it seems. he wished for it to stay.

with this, he took a different route to the garden. that is in case he bumps into you, so the two of you can go together and he can make fun of you for running in the corridor like a lunatic. it’s one of his favorite hobbies now.

“wait!” you yelled from the other side of the call. he heard you gasp the next second and whisper, “i got lost i think. oh my god.”

at that moment, the most hearty and loudest cackle escaped from Kenma’s mouth. it was a split-second laugh. so loud that Kenma surprised himself. to think he was capable of laughing like that. if Kuroo were to hear, he would probably cry, Kenma thought and contained his enthusiasm. after all, the person on the phone can let out the same amount of enthusiasm for the both of them.

“what was that? can you do that again? i couldn’t quite catch it.”

Kenma rolled his eyes, chuckling. “i laughed.”

your gasp was the sharpest one he heard so far. “do it again! shit, oh no, i can’t record it. i’m calling you.”

this time he covered his mouth to not make his giggles audible. he was surprised to actually find himself giggling at something so simple.

the lad let you playfully babble curses at him while he remained quiet. if he continued speaking, he might not be able to stop. interacting with others is a tough job, so he took the time to look for you instead before going outside the premises.

it then hit him. “you’re not lost for real, are you?” he asked, looking left and right to see which way you might come from. he figured that since you both are college seniors, you could have been exaggerating to say you were lost. as you do liked exaggerating. the smile returned.

“i’m not familiar with the main building. the east and west buildings confuse me a lot.” she explained herself, sounding a lot more audible than previous times. Kenma looked up to the window and saw you taking a seat by the fountain, visibly tired to your wits. he took a sigh of relief before moving to sit beside you.

but his presence might have startled you that you had to stand back up. “you’re here!”

the lad nodded his head, smiling, and kept his phone back in his hoodie’s pocket. “yes, i am.” he saw the paint-stained apron she wore over her clothes. “you’re working hard.”

you looked down to your clothes, “this is nothing. i’m only doing my job. i didn’t want to just sit there and watch them work, you know.” and sheepishly smiled, tucking strands hair behind your ear.

“anywa-”

“why’d you-”

the two of you laughed after speaking at the same time. you gestured for the lad to say his piece before you, but he only wanted to ask why you called him just to see him.

you felt yourself flush from realization. “well, um, the text you gave me made me really worried, and i keep forgetting to reply since everything’s been really hectic on me lately. and i apologize for that.”

“there’s no reason for you to apologize.”

“also, you’re never a bother to me. what made you think that?” you asked him, tilting a head to the side in confusion, and continued, “if anything, it’s an honor to be your friend since i started as a fan of you...”

until Kenma retracted his hand back from touching the stain of paint on your chin.

you stared at him. you just stood there, staring at him. you gathered all the events that led to that action in your mind. meanwhile, the lad covered his face and looked away out of shame. he just invaded your personal space

and touched you.

“what was that?”

“you- you had paint on your- on your chin. it w- it was distracting so... yea.”

you watched him as he stammered like crazy, as if he has violated your rights as a member of society and as a woman of Japan.

did you just do that to Bouncing Ball Corporation’s CEO?

“i’m a painter. it’s normal i had stains like this on certain parts of my body. no worries... well, anyways,” you said, trying your very best to brush off what happened just now between you two. you sure hoped you weren’t blushing as hard as he did just now. but your robotic voice did not help, “we can sit. do you want to sit? i want to sit.”

so you sat by the fountain once again, and Kenma followed suit. the both of you sat beside each other for the next few minutes, relishing the air accompanied by the scent of the plants. the warmth around you two was too comfortable and too sweet that you literally cannot stop blushing.

you are sitting beside Kenma Kozume. you hadn’t let that sink in yet. it was too good to be true. he was hanging out with you. he touched your chin. HE.

“you’re more quiet in personal, huh?”

“who, me?” you asked in a rather dumb way, as he did startle you with a question. “i’m kind of the same.” you can never admit that you’re actually so star-strucked whenever you see him in real life that you just do not function at all.

you’ll come around, you say to yourself.

it’s only a matter of ti-

“want to go to horror mansion with me some time?”

you blinked at him. “yes?” you asked him to repeat himself, to make sure you weren’t just hearing things, although your yes trailed off so far that you forgot to rise the intonation.

“great,” a soft smile matched with his soft voice so well that you find yourself instantly melting.

“you got the tickets, right?”

“uh, yea.”

“okay. i’ll just ask the team if we can make the booth up to your standards.”

“up to my standards? what’s that mean?”

“you don’t get scared easily, do you?”

so you stand there, taken-aback, that this boy had the audacity to tease you again as if you did not just go around school just to hang out with him, again.

“i’m hungry. want to get some snacks with me?”

ღ take me to orbit

― note 10 ✧ working hard

ღ in which a part-time graphic designer receives an opportunity to work with their most favorite sugar daddy gaming youtuber. or perhaps, work isn’t the only thing that’s about to happen between them.

✧ previous 「masterlist」 next ✧

behind the stars:

since it has been officially stated, Kuroo immediately deleted the Kirby meme from Kenma's tweet to avoid suspicions.

❀ //

:D I’M BACK :D

― ✿ taglist: 《STILL OPEN! send me an ask to join 🧡》

@fear-fckeverythingandrun @mirikusashes @bestboitsukki @rachelexe @icaruskenma @lilidrawz @animatedrapture @lostmarimoismyhubby @paripedia @kac-chowsballs @aikochan4859 @beanst0ck @kac-chowsballs @ghost-of-todoroki @waitforitillwritemywayout @effmigentlywithachainsaw @hugscore @basically1kuromi @yn-tingz @a-applepi @shigarakiskitten @skylarkalchemist

#walk in my garden #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu!! smau #haikyuu!! drabbles #haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! headcanons #haikyuu!! imagines #kenma #kenma kozume #kozume kenma #kenma x y/n #kenma x reader #nekoma #take me to orbit

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vivithefolle · 5 years ago

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Ron’s greatest acts of bravery

An itty-bitty butthurty Harmony shipper reported this answer of mine and got it deleted by the Quora moderation. Naturally, I have contested this decision, but my appeal has been unanswered as of now. So here’s what we’re going to do, folks: I’m gonna repost this answer of mine here, where no angwy widdle Hawmony shipper can censor it. And y’all are going to spam the reblog button until people can’t go in the Harry Potter tag without finding this answer reblogged at least five times over. Good? Good.

(this is totally a demarcation line I don’t know what you’re talking about)

What was Ron Weasley's greatest act of bravery in any of the Harry Potter movies or books?

We of course have the mythical “I’ll be a knight” but that’s so easy. Ron would die for his loved ones any day of any week, because that’s how stupidly selfless and self-effacing he is.

There is the equally mythical “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” which reeks of badassery and awesomeness, but it has also been quoted before, and to be fair that wasn’t one of Ron’s greatest acts of bravery. Oh, yes, it is incredibly brave, but Ron has plenty more of those to give.

One that is often forgotten is “He beat you!”, spoken to Voldemort in the flesh, which also highlights just how far Ron has come from the beginning of the series - because unlike what the haters want you to believe, Ronald Weasley has an actual character arc. An arc that keeps getting reseted and postponed in-between books because his author is too busy trying to make her Mary Sue look better instead, but he has one, and it’s so perfectly illustrated by this:

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort" Ron gasped. "What?" said Harry. "You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --" - Philosopher’s Stone

—-

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle --" "Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily. - Prisoner of Azkaban

—-

“My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again." "Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. "And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. - Goblet Of Fire

—-

"You see?" said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" "He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

From the boy who flinched at Voldemort’s name, to the man who was the first to sass back to Voldemort when the latter dissed his best mate. To say nothing of the fact that this was the first time Ron ever saw Voldemort in the flesh. Ron had never seen Voldemort before, yet the second Voldemort says something about Harry, Ron is up in arms and ready to kill the Dark Lord with his bare hands.

We could go with the tested-and-true “follow the spiders”. Unlike in the movies where Harry immediately sees a trail of spiders and Ron follows moaning and bumbling all the while, in the books Harry and Ron are comfortably in the castle when they decide to follow. Ron has the time to psych himself up, to terrify himself into imagining the spiders, and was given the time to backtrack a million times over. But he didn’t. This one Tumblr post has said it all.

Yes, “Follow the spiders” is probably one of Ron’s bravest moments, but…

But, but, but.

There’s more.

Sure, I absolutely adore Ron and can’t choose between all those awesome moments he has to his name, because they’re all so wonderful. From the ones that highlight just how much he’s grown and developed in spite of his own author treating him like an afterthought; from the ones that showcase just how good a kid he is, how much he loves and fights for his friends; all those moments that show that no, Ron Weasley isn’t a fair-weather friend and anyone who calls him that needs a high-five in the face with a block of concrete…

Out of those moments, out of them all, I have to pick something that is too often forgotten, too often glossed over, even by those of us who love Ron.

I’m talking, naturally, of his return.

Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his savior’s identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone. Someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head, “Are—you—mental?”

Whether you think that Ron “abandoned” Harry and Hermione, whether you think that Ron is a traitor or a man with the patience of a saint who put up with Harry and Hermione’s bullshit for too long. Whether you think the three times Harry told him to leave were a factor or whether you place the blame solely on Ron’s shoulders.

Ron comes back to save Harry’s life.

But not only that.

“No!” said Ron. “No, don’t open it! I’m serious!” “Why not?” asked Harry. “Let’s get rid of the damn thing, it’s been months—” “Because that thing’s bad for me!” said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. “I can’t handle it! I’m not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff — stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can’t explain it, and then I’d take it off and I’d get my head on straight again, and then I’d have to put the effing thing back on—I can’t do it, Harry!” He had bakced away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

Ron came back, even though he knew it would mean being with the thing that had tortured him all this time.

The thing that latched onto all of Ron’s weak spots, cultivated them, weaponized them, used them to push Ron closer and closer to the edge, until he couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. (Funny how some will act as though Hermione’s birds were her “snapping”, but when Ron is holding Voldemort’s soul in his hands and going insane under their very eyes they just say “hurr durr teh locket didnt do nuthin”…)

And with this thing preying on him, tormenting him, Ron did what any rational, sane human being would have done when their abuser forgets to lock the door.

He opened it and ran.

But, but, but, and that’s where the bravery comes in.

He came back.

He knew there was this thing that preyed upon him relentlessly, a thing that managed to make him believe his best friends didn’t want nor cared about him, that his entire existence amounted to nothing, that he was just a waste of space nobody wanted around.

“Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —”

“You mother confessed,” sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, “that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange...” “Who wouldn’t prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,” crooned Riddle-Hermione

Ron fled from this sort of abuse, from this sort of torture, then he decided to come back for more.

Because even though he believed his friends didn’t need him, even though he thought his friends were better off without him, he still wanted to make himself useful. He still wanted to help.

And once he’d saved Harry, he was back to facing the entity that has been torturing him, and that entity proceeded to show off Ron’s deepest, most shameful secrets… to his best mate.

Ron’s entire self-esteem is tied to the way his loved ones perceive him:

“You did brilliantly, Ron!” This time it really was Hermione running toward them from the stands; Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.

The image the Mirror of Erised showed Ron was one of glory and fame… or was it?

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!" "What?" "I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Being Head Boy and Quidditch captain. He could have seen himself being crowned World’s Best Emperor if he wanted, with legions of fans throwing himself at him, but that doesn’t happen.

Instead he sees himself being like Bill. Like his cool older brother. And Quidditch captain, like his other cool older brother Charlie.

What Ron wants… is to make his loved ones proud.

Ron defines himself by the way his loved ones look at him.

When Malfoy calls him an idiot he scoffs because it’s Malfoy. When Hermione calls him an idiot, though…? Ouch.

And now all of Ron’s secrets, all his feelings of inadequacy and inferiority that he has tried to keep quiet throughout the series out of respect for Harry, his deepest fears… They’re all there for Harry to see, for Harry to judge, for Harry to feel disgusted by. Because how dare Ron Weasley have problems, how dare Ron Weasley be envious of Harry Potter, whose life is nothing but suffering?

Ron’s greatest act of bravery, to me, was coming back, even though for all he knew Harry and Hermione had hooked up while he was gone (they’d never, of course, but how could he know?), even though he knew it would mean being up for Round #2 of his private torture sessions with Voldemort, even though he believed he wouldn’t be welcome…

He still came back. Because it was the right thing to do.

Anyone who’s gonna tell me that Ronald Weasley isn’t loyal to the core can suck on a cactus.

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herondaleholly31 · 6 years ago

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Love On The Weekend Chris Evans X Reader

overview: Whenever you can you and Chris spend a weekend together just the two of you. This weekend is different.

A/N Hey guys!! I’m currently in the middle of exams but I wanted to start writing some of the requests that was sent to me after my last post. Thank you so much for all your kind messages and follows after that post, it really means so much to me. I’m working through the list so I will try and upload as much as I can I promise. I hope you enjoy this one, make sure to keep sending me any requests!

Like and Reblog!

word count: 3,738

4:55. Five more minutes to go. You were impatient, and having already cleaned your desk three times in the past hour you were checking your emails one last time before you clocked out. Delete, delete, asos discount code saved, the rest thrown in spam. That’s it. All done. Only three more minutes.

“Y/N!”

Jack entered your office without knocking, an ominous stack of papers under his arm. “you’re still here, great. I need you to sort these files out before you go.” The stack fell with a thud onto your desk.

“I can’t,” you shook your head “I’m just about to head out.”

“Oh I’ve also put you on call duty this weekend,” Jack ignored you “so any plans you have cancel them.”

Your spine chilled “I can’t do this weekend. I cant I-“ you shook your head to try and stop your rising panic “I have to have this weekend off.”

“Tough luck. You’re going to want to keep you phone charged, I get a lot of emails.”

“No Jack-“

“Is there a problem?” He scowled.

The clock had struck five, he was going to be there any minute. “I can’t reschedule this plan my boyfriend’s job-“

“sweetheart can I be frank? I don’t give a shit,’ your bosses patient demeanour had gone and his normal irritation came through “I’ve got a golf game tomorrow and you were the last person to ask for time off. So you’re on this weekend.” He slammed his hand on top of the stack of papers and then turned to leave when suddenly a deafening sound came from outside. Shocked, Jack smacked his arm onto your computer, causing him to swear colourfully “WHAT IS THAT?” But you had already rushed to the window, your smile widening.

“He’s here.”

“WHO?”

You weren’t listening, grabbing your bag and throwing your coat over your arm “I’m going.”

“Is that for you?”

“Yes.” You turned once more, determination overruling your fear “Have a nice weekend Jack.” And with that, you flicked off the light switch and walked out the office. The honk was ringing down the corridor as you took the stairs two at a time before bursting out the door. A black range rover was sat in the middle of the carpark, and leaning against the bonnet was your boyfriend Chris. His eyes were covered with sunglasses but you knew his eye brows were raised in a teasing expression as he watched you stride over “are you always that dramatic when leaving work?”

“Only when my boss is being a dick.’ You reached him and cocked your head back so you could kiss him, both smiling against each other as the realisation that this moment had finally happened washed over. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Chris rested his forehead against yours and you breathed deeply, feeling the anger ebb away. “I missed you,” he whispered.

“I missed you too. I couldn’t get out of that place fast enough.”

‘I saw” Chris laughed. He pulled away to open the door next to him to reveal leather seats and your battered rucksack, bulging at the seams. “I packed everything on the list.”

“including the-“

“including my grey jumper for you to wear in the car.”

“thank youuuu,” clambering up into the seat you started to get changed, tights getting ripped and pony tails being loosened. Chris’s jumper had been washed one too many times, the fluffy interior bobbled and stretched to fit his physique; however you always wore it on these trips and had therefore become a running joke. “Where to this time?” You asked, popping your head over the collar to look over at Chris who was fiddling about with the Keys. He slid them in and a second later the car roared and shot out of the car park, the revs barking through the quiet. He didn’t answer until you had made it onto the highway.

“I’m going to keep it a surprise this time.”

“ooooo” you perked up “we haven’t done that for a while. Do I get a clue?”

“nope.”

“pleaseeeeee.”

Chris shook his head chuckling “you’ll like it I promise.” Still determined to know you sat up on your knees, leaning over the gear stick to kiss his cheek “not one hint?”

“No!” Chris laughed. You continued to ask, peppering the half of his face and neck with jokey kisses until his death went slightly ragged. “you’re going to make me crash.” He didn’t move away though, enjoying the way you bumped your nose against his cheekbone as the car steamed ahead. The car flew like a the air of you were on the run, Chris only realising when cramp started to form in his ankle from the clenching. You were so present to him in that moment his mind seems to have fogged over. Luckily You only kissed him a couple more times before sitting back, defeated. He was able to calm his pulse once again. “fine” You rolled your eyes teasingly “I guess I’ll trust you. Give me the aux cord.” You propped your bare feet up onto the dash board and plugged it into your phone and scrolled down until you found the playlist: Love on the weekend.

The weekend was something you and Chris had done for a long as you’d been dating. Although you lived in Boston near his family and spent stints in LA, work and business sometimes kept the pair of you apart for weeks if not months at a time. This had been difficult, until on a whim Chris had done what he would come to do every time; text you the night before that he was picking you up and that you two were going away together. That first time he’d taken you to a beach house where you’d spent the weekend getting a suntan and much needed alone time. That had been nearly two years ago and since the pair of you had taken trips all over the country, with nothing but a car and essentials. They had become your favourite tradition together.

The first song of the playlist started and Chris nodded his head in satisfaction “yessss!’ He pumped his foot on the gas and the car shot down the fast lane, leaving the traffic behind. The music swelled until the rough voice of Journey’s “Don’t stop believing” was blasting through the speakers, matched only by Chris’ rendition. He was tossing his head about and giving it his all, making you laugh so hard you felt the breath pound against your throat and your chest started to tense. The tipping point was when on the final high note your boyfriend’s voice cracked dramatically, to which you had to dig your hands in-between your clenched thighs to stop you from peeing. God it was so good to laugh like this again.

The speakers continued to blast out classics, raging from Kanye West to Disney to Prince until both your voices were frayed and your chests ached from laughing. At one point there was no sound from either of you except for wheezing and knee slapping. You were like children, bubbling with energy and excitement as the feeling of each other there made you giddy.

“We’re nearly there,” Chris was able to heave out later, breathing deliberately to even out his chuckles “keep an eye out for the right exit.”

“exit for what?”

“I’m still not telling you.”

“How am I going to know what the right exit is if I don’t know where we’re going?”

“Hey I gave you a name just trust me.” He reached out and patted your knee, before slowly moving his hand up to rest on your thigh. There was nothing suggestive about it, but you felt your body melt under his touch as he continued to drive. He hummed to the dulcet tones of John Mayer and would occasionally have to shift in his seat but he made sure to keep your thigh at arms length. His palm stayed soft and warm against you as the car pulled off the highway and drove down strips of long roads under golden sun stained foliage. One rumbling dirt track later and the car rolled into an opening, where it stopped and slumped, exhausted. Chris breathed, smiled, and squeezed your leg “we’re here.”

The house sat snuggled in the trees, overlooking a lake that shone brightly. White walls, blue tiles roof, a rickety dock that rocked slightly against the wind. It looked exactly the same as it did in the pictures that were hung around the Evan’s family home. You gasped in excitement “This is the place-“

“From my childhood pictures,” Chris nodded.

“The place you said you’d always take me,” you placed your hand on top of his “I can’t believe you did this.” In your excitement you leant over the gear stick and grabbed Chris’s face In between your hands “Thank you thank you Thank you!” You planted one big kiss on his lips causing him to laugh loudly before leaping out the car, your bare feet lacing with the grass. The pair of you grabbed the bags from the car and dragged them up into the house, abandoning them in the hall way to explore your home for the weekend. An open floor plan of polished wooden floors, white furniture and blue wallpaper stretched through the house, with soft corduroy sofas and shelves of thumbed classic books and board games. It was a weird mix of modern and old; as if time didn’t effect it. You were running around the house, calling for Chris to see something before discovering something else and getting even more excited. When Chris still hadn’t come after the fifth time you called you went clattering down the stairs to find him in the kitchen, already pulling things out of the stocked fridge “pesto eggs?” He asked.

“MMMM YES!” You yelled in excitement. “Sorry,” you quietened “sorry. Yes please.”

“I take it you like the house then?’ “Is this the part of the story where you tell me you’ve bought it?” You slid onto one of the stools by the island, nicking a bit of red pepper from the chopping board.

“ Unfortunately not.”

“shame. I would’ve quit work on the spot to move.”

“It’s that stressful huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Chris stopped stirring “so tell me about it.”

You shook your head, running your hands through your hair once before letting them fall on the table “I don’t want to weigh you down with that. You don’t wanna hear about that.”

“Yes I do,” Chris said “its obviously bothering you.”

“Not tonight Chris. Please.” You didn’t want to think about anything negative this weekend. Not with the limited time you had with him. “your eggs are burning by the way.”

“Huh? Oh Shit,” Chris went back to wildly stirring the contents of his pan, and the conversation was dropped.

************

The next couple days felt like the montage to a rom com movie, a warped bubble where negative thoughts and emotions weren’t allowed to penetrate. There was a lot to Catch up with so the pair of you didn’t waste a single minute. Swimming in the lake, running together through the woods, playing chess whilst drinking too much beer. A lot of random hugs and heated make outs that lead to other things that caused your skin to flush and tingle. This was partly due to Your shoulders getting burnt, resulting with Chris finding great pleasure in occasionally smacking the sensitive skin causing you to scream blue murder whilst chasing after him.

‘I still think I’ll have a hand imprint on my shoulder forever,” you joked. It was the last night and you were cooking whilst Chris picked the movie. He was crouched by the shelfs, his recently showered hair peering his grey t shirt with droplets. “What movie we thinking?” He called.

“hmmmm How about Captain America?”

“Funny.” Chris rolled his eyes. You laughed before diving down to retrieve the steaming dish of Chicken and vegetable pasta from the oven and dishing into bowls.

“Babe! You’ll never guess what movie they have.” Chris lifted the DVD case like a trophy, the title in your direction. You read it and gasped excitedly “About Time? Oh my days yes!”

“You’re gonna cry.”

“I am not.”

“You say that every time.”

“well this time I can definitely say that I will not cry!”

*************

“It’s just” you stuttered, “it just so…so” you had to gulp loudly through the raked sobs “so sad!” Bill Nighy and the little boy started skimming stones on the beach, causing you to whimper loudly, more tears streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“I told you you would cry,” Chris said, but his own eyes were watery and his jaw clenched in emotion. Seeing this made you even more upset and you started to grip onto the pillow, holding your breath so to stop the sobs. It didn’t work. Chris couldn’t stand it anymore; part of him obviously wanted to comfort you but also your turmoil was starting to become comical. “sweetheart,” he laughed “come here.” He dragged you over to sit in between his legs, your back against his chest so he could try and stop you from crying. ‘I’m fine, I’m fine,” you breathed “I’m not going to-oh my god they’re hugging.” The crying was uncontrollable now “This is the last hug they’re ever going to have together.”

“Okay you need to tell me whats wrong now,” Chris’ tone shifted to worry. He’d never seen you this upset over this movie before “hey, hey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want you to leave me tomorrow.”

“what?”

“You’re going to leave tomorrow and I’ll be left with an apartment that is too big for just one person, a job I hate and the constant reminder that these weekends are the only things that I actually enjoy in life.”

The movie continued to play but Chris wasn’t watching anymore. Instead he sat there, struggling to find the right words to say. He didn’t want to ask, you’d specifically told him not to ask this weekend, the itch of knowing was starting to burn in his brain. “What’s wrong with work?”

You huffed, flinging your head back to knock against his shoulder “I hate it Chris. I used to love working there, but I just can’t do it anymore. The last time I had a weekend off was our last weekend 3 months ago.”

“why?”

“Because Jack makes me work so he can piss about golfing and spend the weekends screwing his assistant. I see the texts,” you nodded as Chris’s eyebrows shot up in surprise “they’re just as awful as you can imagine.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“about the affair? It’s not tha-“

“No. About work.”

“Oh.” You shrugged, wiping the back of your sleeve across your face “I didn’t want you to worry about me that’s all.” Feeling your boyfriend huff you felt yourself get defensive “you’re away for so long I didn’t want you to have to take off anymore time than you had to just because my career turned shit.”

‘That’s not fair,” Chris shook his head “I should’ve known.”

“Why? What would’ve you done?’ You were sitting up now, frowning at him, arms crossed “Quit your work and moved back full time to Boston?’ “Maybe!”

“No you wouldn’t of!”

“But at least I would’ve had that option!” His eyes flashed with a mixture of pain and annoyance “Y/N how am I supposed to be there for you if you don’t tell me these things?”

“That’s not fair Chris.”

“NO,” he snapped “what’s not fair is finding out that you’re feeling like this and yet I was the last person to know!”

“If you were here more YOU’D KNOW!”

There was a horrible silence. Shocked, you put your fingers over your lips, as if trying to grab back the words that were still ringing through the room. You were both shocked; hurt plastered on both your faces. You wanted to take them back, to rewind time so you could start this conversation again, to finish this weekend in a way that you will treasure and picture for the next weeks as you wait for him to come home to you. “I’m sorry.” You finally spoke “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it.”

Chris nodded slowly, and you noticed that his eyes were glistening with tears and you felt your brain screaming in fear and your heart be squished like a juice box “yea you did.”

“NO! No I didn’t.” You pulled him closer “I’m just upset about work, I’m taking it out on you.”

“But you do wish It don’t you?” Chris whispered.

“Of course I wish you were here more,” You nodded “but acting’s your dream. Of course I want you to be doing that.”

“Im so sorry Babe,” he pushed out a heavy sigh to stop the emotions from stunting his voice “I wish I knew how bad it was.”

“It’s not your fault You didn’t know. I wasn’t telling you.”

“I should’ve picked up on it. If I’d known I’d-“

“It’s not your fault Chris. I’m sorry for not telling you.”

Chris smiled softly. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, locking his hands together so you were pressed against his shoulder. He kissed the top of your head, nodding slightly “This was not how I was thinking this conversation was going to go.”

You laughed, snorting slightly due to the snot that had built up from your previous sobs “me neither.”

“And I was looking forward to telling you about my plans for after the movie.”

You felt your heart sink slightly. These conversations were always awfully painful. “Did your agent get another script for you?”

“Actually no. He won’t be getting me any for a while.”

“What?’ You looked up at him, confused “why?”

“because I told him I didn’t want any. Because I’m taking a little break.”

‘Chris? Please say you didn’t do that because of me!”

“only partly,” Chris smiled guiltily “I just miss Boston. I miss my parents, My nieces and nephews, You. I just want to spend some time here. Spending time with my family.”

The tears were falling again, only this time they were ones of happiness “you serious? You’re coming home?”

Chris nodded, savouring this moment for as long as he could. “5 more weeks and then I’m yours.”

******************

The Boston skyline had never looked so unwelcoming. Despite the sunrise bathing the windows with molten pink and blue reflections, they were a reminder that you were back in reality. You’d left the house early that morning with the remise you’d return in the summer with the whole family. It had still been difficult to say goodbye. The entire drive back you and Chris only spoke a few times, both too nervous of what to say in these last moment. Chris’s hand was back on your thigh, but this time your hand was intertwined with his, your only lifeline from breaking down into uncontrollable tears once more. Although this was the last goodbye you’d have to say for a long time, this one felt the most difficult because of the reality of what they were going back to. The buildings of the city grew thicker and thicker as you drove down main streets and over bridges until all too soon the looming signs floor your office building started to come, and then the ruling for the carpark, and in no time at all Chris was pulling into one of the visitors spots and switching off the engine. “we’re here.”

“yea.” A silence. “ Thanks for dropping me off by the way.”

“Yea of course.” Chris swallowed. Neither of you moved. No one made the move to say goodbye. But you knew it was going to happen, and your grip on his hand got tighter as you realised that now was the moment to let go.

In the end it was him. It left you feeling empty, like you’d dropped something into water and you knew that you were never going to get it back, and that’s when the tears started to fall again. In a moment Chris jumped out of the car and ran over to your side of the car, opening your door so he was able to scoop you into a hug. “ I know,” he whispered as you clung to him “ I know.”

“i don’t know if I can do this Chris,” you sniffed into his neck.

“Yes you can. You can sweetheart. Remember what we said.” He kissed your ear lightly “Just five more weeks. Five more weeks and the I’m home, you can quit your job here and we’ll figure something out together okay? Okay?” His tone made you move your gaze so you were looking at his wide eyed expression, full of promise and reassurance “We’ll figure this out together.”

“Five weeks.”

“five weeks and then I’m yours.”

You nodded, sniffing “Okay,” You breathed “Okay I’ll do it.”

“You can do it.” He kissed you then, and his lips tasted of salt but they were familiar and warm and his, and you already missed him so much five weeks suddenly felt like a lifetime.

“I am,” he rested his head against yours once more “so proud of you. I really am.”

You nodded. You kissed him as long as your lungs could muster and this time you let go, flattening your skirt and slipping on your heels as Chris grabbed your bags from the boot and handing them to you. He kissed you once more, told you he loved you and then walked back around to sit in the car. You walked around to his door and leaned in through the open window to kiss him again.

“I can’t watch you walk away,” he confessed “because if I do all I’ll want to do is stay.”

You nodded “That’s fine. I’ll see you in five weeks.”

‘Five weeks.”

“I love you Chris.”

One more kiss, and then he pushed the car into gear and pulled away, leaving you to wave goodbye to him. As he did, the windows rolled down, and a second later you heard the opening chords to “Love on the weekend” play. He didn’t look back, but you knew that he too was already counting down the days until the next time you two could see each other.

#chris #Chris Evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #evans #chris evans x #Steve Rogers #steve x reader #captain america #captain #marvel #fanfiction #reader #imagine #fanfic #cute #fluff

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back-in-wyoming · 5 years ago

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Hey guys. Been a while. Hope you’re all doing ok. ***Trigger warnings under the keep reading line.

I want to update all of you, especially in regards to what plans I have for this blog which is that I’m deleting it and everything related to it. If any of you want some of the names I have set aside, message me and we’ll make it work.

If you want to keep in contact, we can talk.

This post will be taken down in 24hrs. After that, blog deleted with everything else.

TW: Sexual assault, mental illness, abuse

I don’t use this space much anymore because around five years ago, I started having flashbacks to traumatic instances I experienced young. And once that started to unravel it was hard to function.

I distracted myself with things I thought were important because I couldn’t handle seeing anything else in focus. It wasn’t until recently that I could put some sort of timeline together. I do have flashbacks, not enough to call it a chronic issue or anything but they happen. I was almost fired from my job at the time a few times for being late as my nights and days slowly reversed and I couldn’t physically get up in the morning. Around that time, I don’t believe I really knew how to communicate kindly with others or truly consider the consequences of my actions. I distanced myself from myself, not assuming real responsibility. I was clingy. Overly sensitive. Always fearful. Angry. I couldn’t see myself in focus. I can sit here and say I never learned how to take responsibility, that I grew up with parents who had unchecked mood disorders, addictions, and unhealthy behavior and coping mechanisms and it would be true but that alone can’t unburn bridges or close a gap of five years silence.

I thought I understood myself then. I thought I knew emotions, especially my own. I didn’t. And I didn’t realize how risky I had become, throwing myself away, stacking to try and loose weight quick, drinking to the point of blacking out and doing it again as soon as I had the chance.

Four years ago, Dec. 2016, I was sexually assaulted in my home. I shut down entirely for a month or two. Went through the motions. I was taking writing prompts knowing they were never going to be written. I thought I could restart somehow, like I’d snap out of it, that I’d feel something again. My partner was instrumental in helping me survive the winter and spring.

The following year, we lost the house.

My mother wound up in the hospital and has been in and out. Her addiction to narcotics nearly cost her her life twice since moving. We went through a long process to get all of her care localized finally after her latest stint in the hospital mom for overdose and encephalophy and dad for some kind of obstruction in his intestines (second time having that). During that time, I had one car, two jobs to get to, and all of the medical paperwork and doctor visits for both parents.

I had a nervous breakdown a week or two before COVID-19 really kicked up which is when all of the above happened. I checked myself into a partial hospitalization program, left for being accused of lying, and found a better therapist whom I adore.

It was after that I was diagnosed with bipolar I a.k.a. manic depression. For those of you who aren’t familiar with it, it’s a mood disorder marked by intense highs and lows with the highs potentially triggering psychosis depending on the severity of the episode (unfortunately, I do suffer from mild paranoia which does tend to be triggered by Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria). People with bipolar I are distant, very in their head, unpredictable mood wise sometimes. It’s also been discussed that I may have PMDD as well. Basically, my brain is just trying to outright off me at this point. All of that said, the second reason I’m making this post is because I wanted to apologize to anyone I hurt during that very weird, confusing, and anger filled time in my life only to be followed by years silence.

I didn’t forget you.

You did nothing wrong.

You didn’t deserve that. No one does. I don’t expect for this to make anyone forgive me. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get a message across but never considered that I don’t know how to make that right. I don’t think I can.

Even if I had the chance, I’m not entirely sure I’d know what to do with it. I see old friends and they’re good. Like, they’re really really good and happy and I just... didn’t quite get there. And I dragged people down and I’m terrified of responding to messages. Terrified of fucking up, terrified of writing even the smallest responses because I just can’t... handle things. The what if’s. The fear. It’s embarrassing. Shameful. For me. I feel slower than everyone else. Learning things too late, things that I personally feel I should’ve known and remember by now.

It’s just really... hard. To not apologize. To feel sorry for existing. Looking back, it is hard to not feel those things. To just want to erase it from existence because you miss it and it hurts and you put the space there, not anyone else. Because you didn’t really say anything of worth when you had the chance because right when you needed someone, they were already driven away by all the shit you put them through.

you can’t blame them.

and i guess this blog is really one of the last remaining archives, for me, of that person who just pushed and pushed and pushed and didn’t know when to stop.

i want to be a better person. i’m doing my best. and i apologize for all those years of silence. i hope you’re all taking care of yourselves. be safe.

#an update from the desk of t #trigger warnings written in the post pre post writings

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ofxwordsxandxletters · 5 years ago

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Worship

Series: Wynonna Earp

Disclaimer: The pairing and plot are mine in this work of fan-made fiction off of which no money is made.

Pairing: Hollirey

Rating: Explicit overall

Choosing to wear something lacy for Doc’s pleasure, Bobo Del Rey is not expecting just how things turn out...and to be fair neither is Doc Holliday...

Author’s Note: So in re-posting this, I decided to go ahead and put both parts together and do some editing so there is more to this story then the separate parts posted before. I hope that it is still as emotionally satisfying, however. This is probably one of my favorite Hollirey Fics.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Worship

He’d decided against giving any indication of what he was planning mostly because after thirty minutes of typing, deleting, typing again only to delete on his phone told him there was no way he’d go through it if the other knew something was up. As it was, he was pretty sure everyone knew he was feeling some sort of way. Good thing the Revenants in the compound knew better than to either point it out or heaven forbid ask him about it.

Bobo is sort of wondering when he’d lost his mind enough for what he was planning and knew that at anytime he could change said plans. That was also a perfect reason not to warn someone; then you don’t have to cancel and explain yourself.

Somehow, he makes it through the day without needlessly making someone bleed or having a nervous breakdown (not that he’d ever admit to being close to the second) as well as not changing before he heads out. He knows the Revenants know where he’s going; it’s not a secret between either groups but no one says a thing (mostly because the last person who questioned his activities ended up outside the line for five hours). “Don’t kill anyone who won’t regenerate,” is his parting warning before he heads in the direction of Shorty’s.

And one John Henry Holliday.

Except the closer he actually gets the more he can tell it’s nerves and he’s almost turned around four times before forcing himself to park in the parking lot fingers tight around the steering wheel. “God fucking dammit,” he mutters, “This is hardly the most surprising thing I’ve managed to do so why is this so fucking difficult?” Deep down, he knows why. It’s a sort of vulnerability that tended to get him hurt by others. “Guess here’s the point of no return, huh? Let’s see how in you really are, John Henry Holliday.”

He could survive losing the man. He could. Because it wasn’t anything close to being love. It wasn’t. It was not.

It still takes ten minutes before he steps out of the car and heads for the door before managing his familiar swagger inside. “Evenin’, Waverly,” he greets watching her freeze behind the counter like a deer in the headlights before calming by increments.

“Bobo,” she says before managing a small smile (a hard won victory for him) and adding, “I’ll go and get Doc.”

“Take your time, I’m in no rush,” he answers simply as he takes a seat at the bar ignoring the way the material shifts and rubs as he makes himself comfortable. This was not something he was used to; what lay hidden beneath the tight jeans and he was really and truly beginning to wonder if he should just slip back out and leave citing some emergency before the other got into the main room because…

“Well, look who it is. They were startin’ to take bets on whether or not you were actually coming in.” Doc’s voice is light and teasing but he still feels his tension coil tightly.

“Long day,” he manages, “Was debating not giving them the pleasure of my company and then decided that it would be a shame to deprive them of it.”

“Just them, huh?”

Bobo finds himself slowly relaxing into their easy banter. “Why, John Henry, is that you admitting that you might actually like my company?”

The male makes himself comfortable on the stool beside him before reaching and pulling him towards him without preamble. The feel of his lips against his has Bobo groaning low in his throat at how easy the other male makes it seem to just touch him in public or at all actually but that was insecurity rearing its ugly head and he tries to push it away as he leans forward to deepen it letting himself reach and grip the other’s arm.

Breaking it, he finds himself watching the other’s eyes fill with heat like the promise of a coming storm. Bobo knew how it was that most everyone got trapped by this one’s gaze. He wants to say something but the male reaches out to lightly brush his fingers along his jaw and he finds himself chasing the contact leaning into the touch.

He’s quite a bit distracted by the gentle, soft touches so he nearly misses when in the midst of leaning to kiss at the corner of his mouth a finger undoes the button on his pants and slips in.

He feels Doc freeze immediately and tries to keep his fear to a minimum. “Are you…” The finger shifts slightly making Bobo fail to keep from squirming slightly and pray no one was seeing this but the breathed, “You are” has his full attention.

“Y-yes?” It comes out as a question loaded with too many ways this could go wrong. And he feels the other withdraw panic starting to take hold. “Henry…”

His face is cupped and he’s pulled back into a kiss; just as gentle and sweet that has his toes nearly curling. It was this soft sweetness that tended to leave him breathless and strangely pliant for the other to do with as he would and Bobo was strangely addicted to the way it felt. “Let’s take this somewhere more private,” he murmurs as he rises and extends a hand eyes holding heat and wicked intent.

He’s almost embarrassed by how quickly he takes the offered hand and lets him tug him for the stairs. Being brought into the other’s room is nothing knew; but there was something heavy in the air as Doc shuts the door and locks it before turning towards him. “You are wearing lace?”

He feels the heat spreading along his skin. “Yes,” comes the reply and he struggles to keep the sharpness out of his tone mostly from how much he was regretting this if the other disapproved, “Look, it won’t happen again I just…” He’s pulled forward again and kissed before he can get through whatever the rest of the defense would be.

And it’s while he’s kissing him that Doc maneuvers him in the direction of the bed and releases before giving a shove that sends him sprawling more out of surprise than anything. “John Henry…”

“Quiet,” the other commands as he moves so that he’s straddling over top of him, “I want to see what you’ve deigned to wear for my viewing pleasure.” There is something warm in his tone, almost hungry that has Bobo slowly letting himself relax against the mattress.

Doc shifts back before tugging him up enough to divest him of his coat and shirt beneath it letting his fingers run down his chest and abdomen taking his time to undress him, almost unwrapping him. He crouches down and removes his shoes and socks letting his fingers brush along the arch grinning at the sharp intake of breath and the warned, “John Henry…”

“I do love how you growl my name,” he murmurs before shifting up and lightly drawing the zipper down before shifting it open to reveal light blue lace stretched over his skin. “Well, now this is a surprise. His fingers lightly brush over the material and Bobo’s head lolls back as his breathing sharpens. “Definitely like that, too.” He tugs the material down before tugging him up so he can get the pants down and off before he lets his gaze fully take him in standing in nothing but the lace underwear.

Bobo has never felt like he’s on display in such a way before and he watches the male take him in slowly, leisurely before gazing back up at him, eyes tumultuous now more than before. “Somethin’ like this begs to have time taken since you did make yourself so very pretty for me, Robert.”

There was a time he would have snapped at the man for daring to call him that but that was before he’d learned to crave the way it rolled off the other’s tongue especially in that low, husky tone. That mixed with the compliment has him very willing to let the man do what he wanted. Any and everything the man wanted.

It was dangerous and he knew better but he wants it more than he wants to argue or worry so he merely lets himself get comfortable on the bed splayed out before beckoning him towards him. And that would be all it would take for Doc to rejoin him, his knees on either side of him as he leans and presses another hot kiss to his mouth. It is brief, almost too brief but it’s made tolerable when the dark haired male moves down kissing lightly at his jaw and tracing his lips and tongue over his throat which is bared willingly for the other. His breathing hitches when the male’s mouth finds all the spots he knows to be sensitive and he lavishes slow attention; the soft brush of lips, the light nip of teeth, and the soothing moist heat of his tongue and mouth map him out slowly, lazily. He takes special care and time on his nipples until Bobo is squirming and whining and he can feel the bastard’s smirk against his skin as he continues playing him, winding him up.

And then he’d move lower; abdomen and stomach getting the same treatment; leaving reddened marks that would most likely fade by the morning before he ends up kneeling between the other’s spread thighs and he gazes down at him, lips curving. “Beautiful,” he breathes softly, “You, Robert, are more beautiful than a man has the right to be.” His fingers lightly brush over the thin fabric stretched taut over his straining cock. His lips curve, “You should don such things more often as they look incredible on you.”

He swallows thickly. “W-wasn’t sure you’d approve…”

Doc’s eyes meet his and his grin widens. “Oh, Robert,” he murmurs huskily before bringing one of the man’s hands to his pants and pressing the palm there, “Oh, I approve most emphatically. You are stunnin’. Hell, the next time you should wear a pair and just your coat.”

Color dusts more across his skin before he manages, “A-as much as the ego stroking is nice...could you, maybe, you know, stroke something else?”

“You always were so impatient. Some things deserve time to be taken. And some people deserve to be savored.”

“Henry…”

“Robert,” he murmurs as he reaches to allow himself to at least remove his pants and boots this time before he rejoins him on the bed letting his body press down so he can rock his hips slowly making the other groan and arch to meet him. “Mm, like that. Such a beautiful, needy thing you are tonight. I approve,” he breathes before nipping at the male’s neck and continues, “So just trust yourself to me and let me show you what you’re truly worth.”

Months ago, Bobo Del Rey would have known better than to allow it; a life of lessons to never let another man have him vulnerable or open. But that was months ago and somehow this unrepentant bastard had managed to undo decades of his own walls with little more than a smile and the way he treated him. Maybe it was desperation or the need for contact...or maybe there was enough left of Robert Svane to be still ridiculously romantic…Whatever it was, he chooses to jump head-first off the ledge and hope for the best. If he was wrong it wouldn’t be the first time he’d plunged to his emotional death and he’d probably survive it. Probably.

Forcefully telling the fear that it had nothing to do with this man or this place, he manages a quiet, “I think that you are overstating my value here, John Henry.”

“No,” comes the firm response as the other brings his fingers along his face again, “I am surely not, Robert. You are worthy of so much; friends, family, a home, even love.”

“And you?” He cannot believe he asks this because it was so stupid, so desperate sounding, too honest, too presumptuous, too...

“If you want me, Robert, you have me. I’m all in when it comes to you and I will not fold no matter how bad it gets.”

He has to close his eyes a moment at that. The words are balm for some of the more broken pieces in him. He takes a slow, deep breath before opening them hoping that there wasn’t too much showing even though he’s sure that’s a useless want at this point. “I...do...want...that.” You, was the correct albeit unspoken word. But he can see in the softened smile and the way the other leans to press his forehead against his that he hears and understands the truth of the statement.

“Mine,” comes the quiet claiming he so desperately needed, “You, Bobo Del Rey, you Robert Svane, are mine. And I am a possessive and territorial man.”

Bobo wants to protect himself with some snarky remark about him getting to possessing said territory but that could come later. For the moment he merely brings his arm up to loop it around Doc’s shoulders and shift slightly so that he can kiss him and ignore the fact that his eyes were hot and wet because there might be tears. Actual tears.

Of course John Henry breaks the kiss too soon for his liking and lightly brushes his thumbs along the damp skin. “You deserve the world.”

“D-don’t say such things or we’re not getting very far tonight.”

“We have the time, Robert. We have all the time it takes for me to prove you deserve good things. The very best things.”

“Henry…”

“Robert,” he murmurs softly letting his hand slide between them to brush over the thin fabric making him squirm and breathe sharply, “You will believe me one of these days.”

“F-fuck...c-could we just...a-ahh...o-ohh...do-do that,” comes the groaned out plea as he applies more pressure to his groin. It has Doc chuckling gently as he curls his fingers as best he can and stroke slowly making him rock and his arms tighten as he presses his face in the crook of his neck as he pants and moans against his skin.

“Such a lovely reaction, darlin’. I do so love how you respond to me.”

He wants to get more demanding and less pliant but there is something about the affectionate praise he gets when he lets the other go at his leisure that Bobo is far more addicted to and so just closes his eyes and rests back against the bed beneath him. He’d offered himself up for this anyway.

And John Henry Holliday, much to his immense surprise, had yet to disappoint him so he’s very sure the man will make it worth his while to just let him take his time. And maybe he could let himself have this without protest; let himself be savored in this way without making too much of it. Without wondering too much about what it might cost him in the future. He wasn’t Wyatt Earp. Thankfully, his wandering thoughts are corralled very quickly when Doc’s next move is to slide his fingers under the very edge of the lace and brush against hot skin that has him jerking as pleasure jolts down his nerves and a sharp, ragged sound escaping followed by a choked, “Please, fuck...please…touch me...” “Oh, I have every intention of doin’ just that,” comes the reply, “Trust that above all else; that I have every intention of making you know that every bit and every part of you is mine, Robert Svane. No one else’s. No one else gets a chance at what’s left of you because it belongs to me and I will guard it most fiercely. And guard you as well.” He wants to tell him not to say things like that because it was ridiculously sentimental at best and a lie at worst but he can’t speak through the fact that his goddamn throat is tight with everything he’s feeling at the moment, everything this man makes him feel and more than that; makes him want from him. “Henry…” The word comes out in a mix of warning and plea and he cannot rightfully figure out which or what it was currently asking for because it was all he could manage to force out.

And John Henry Holliday, damn the man, smiles that goddamn soft, tender smile that broke every wall and failsafe he’d tried to make so that he was never in his life foolish enough to let some fool man mean something to him like this with all the force of dynamite before murmuring “I’ve got ya, darlin,’” as he finally draws the lace off of him leaving him bare against the bed.

His breathing sharpens and he lets himself splay for the other’s view. It wasn’t like Doc hadn’t had him naked before but there was something about how he felt tonight of all nights that made it more intimate in some ways that he felt more exposed and vulnerable. But even though he’s not sure he likes the way it makes him feel; the way Doc’s eyes drink him in and the sheer approval in those dark blue eyes is more than worth it.

“You have seen me naked before,” he finally gets out something untensing at the way the other just gazes over him.

“Yes,” comes the easy agreement, “It’s one of my particularly favorite activities as it were; staring at the sheer expanse of you.”

“I would much prefer if you touched more and looked less.”

Doc chuckles at that. “Oh, I am sure you do. But as I said; there are things and people who are best savored. This and you are definitely in that category, Robert Svane.”

He lets his eyes close at that and slides his arms behind his head in a silent show of surrender. Bobo had always preferred sex to be fast and somewhat rough; less emotions more baser needs. Doc had learned that it was because gentle, loving, and intimate affairs tended to leave him open and terribly raw.

Hence this entire situation, he supposes. Doc could always read what he needed to hear, to have done to him better than anyone he’d met. If there was a talent here; it was that John Henry Holliday could read someone too goddamn well. And what was more was that he clearly likes finding all the secrets he still held like it was some great discovery. And honestly, it reminded him that he was still very much Robert. And he still very much wanted to be important to someone. In fact, he wanted to be important to this man above all else. So if fate or whatever celestial asshole was out there making a mess of things for no damn reason could just give him this small favor, this tiny thing: it would be to keep John Henry Holliday.

It could not be too much to ask at this point.

The bed dips as Henry rejoins him making himself comfortable between his spread thighs. His fingers lightly brush over the length of him, lips curving into a look of satisfaction as he squirms and arches wanting more friction, more of something against hot skin. “F-fuck...c’mon...would you do more than that?”

There is that moment when he knows his partner could continue; John Henry made teasing a man a sport and was very, very good at it. However, he sees the moment the other knows now is clearly not the time to do that and his fingers tighten just enough to have him arching as a groan slips past his lips. It’s halting almost rumbling as want is very much getting the better of him though he’ quite displeased when his partner’s next move is to withdraw the hand completely. Light blue eyes, more gray than blue, blink at him and he goes to make something of a demand of the other when he watches him shift so that he can settle himself between his thighs, Bobo’s legs resting over his shoulders. His lips part as he’s very much not sure what the other thinks he’s doing and his thoughts come to a screeching halt when he feels the male’s lips against his skin again. It’s an almost embarrassingly squawking breath that escapes him as he tries to wrap his mind around what Doc’s actual actions are.

He’s pretty sure he’s told him, numerous times, something along the lines of “kiss my ass” but he’d never actually taken a moment to wonder how that would go in a literal sense. “He-Henry,” he struggles to get out, “Henry, wh-what the fuck are you…” The tip of his tongue flicks out and his head nearly snaps back at the fleeting of it pressing against the rim of his ass. That’s what he was doing. His breathing staccatos sharply and his fingers grip the sheets as he tries to decide if this was way too much or just right and he watches blue eyes glint mischievously before the other presses his tongue in deep and has his back arching as a sound escapes too close to a wail for his own liking and he presses his palm over his mouth because there was no way he was trying to explain that sort of noise to anyone who might hear it. The chuckle against his skin doesn’t make him feel any better about the situation though the fact that his hips shift towards the bastard instead of away gives him up for enjoying it. Warm fingers cup his hips as he presses closer, licking at him deeply.

Bobo soon finds himself unable to get a good rhythm as Doc alternates from deep satisfying presses of his tongue to light, teasing licks at the clamping opening and it’s as maddening as it is pleasurable. Finally, he rescinds his hold on the sheets with one hand and brings it into the male’s dark hair. “F-fuckin’ eat me out l-like you mean it,” he demands voice more plaintive whine than growl, “F-for fuck’s sake...H-Henry…”

The other of course has to withdraw enough to murmur, “What part of me savorin’ you makes you think this is gonna be done at your pace, darlin’? If I want to spend the rest of my night eatin’ you out just like this then you’re just going to have to accept that.”

He wants to argue, protest, or tell him where he could stick his intentions (whatever those may be) but can only choke because at that moment Doc leans before lewdly sucking at his rim and shoving his tongue in deep in a certain direction that has him rocking violently. His fingers tighten in the other’s hair breathing sharp and reedy. Damn this man and all the ways he used to just wreck him.

That he delighted in finding them was something else for him to think about at some point because he is not used to someone being this giving in pleasure or this interested in what he liked enough to experiment. The next slow lick has him panting and squirming. "H-Henry...f-fuck...please..."

Of course Doc ignores him clearly enjoying the way he was responding to him. Bobo is sure all it would take is a sharp jerk on his hair to get the other to change his tactics but there is too much of him that wants him to keep doing this: to keep touching him in such an intimate and tender manner so he releases his grip and returns his fingers to gripping the sheets.

The coiling heat and pressure intensify the more Doc learns where and how to press his tongue, lips, and to lightly drag his teeth and Bobo is taken off guard when an orgasm peaks violently from this alone leaving him momentarily breathless. Doc gives him a satisfied, pleased look murmuring, "Now this is definitely something I need to do to you more often."

He feels his face flush from the husky tone and slight embarrassment. "W-was that strictly necessary?"

"Maybe not," comes the easy response before Doc would make a show of drawing his fingers along the spatters of semen decorating Bobo's skin and then licking the digits clean. The Revenant let's his eyes fall closed with a soft groan.

"Henry..."

“Robert,” he teases back before his tone would go serious again, “You deserve to be treated to everything a man can enjoy being done to him. Ain't nothing wrong with it.”

“You do realize…”

“He,” Doc interrupts knowing just where this was going, “was the selfish sort not particularly concerned about what things any of his bedmates would have wanted nor would he have been willing to change that. I'm not him. Not even close. So I'm going to teach you how a man should be to someone important to him.”

“But what do you get out of it?”

Doc chuckles softly. “Darlin’, I get to feel you squirm and hear you whine and taste you so deeply that I know I’ll be the only one with that pleasure. Trust that I get a lot out of finding what you enjoy havin’ done to you.”

Bobo is pretty sure he's flushing at the words and tries not to be embarrassed though the fact that he still could be embarrassed is a new one to him. The orgasm has him more pliant and he merely watches as Doc moves to grab a familiar jar and returns to him. Half-lidded eyes watch as he unscrews the cap and dips his fingers inside before settling himself so he can start to slowly open him up. The familiar pressure and stretch has him groaning low in his throat as he lets his eyes close to enjoy the sensation of being stretched. His breathing sharpens and he arches fucking himself on the male's fingers deeply. “Hnn...fuck...there!” he pants out as Doc's fingers crook stroking his prostate. The process would be slow as Doc makes sure he's more than ready before withdrawing his fingers which Bobo doesn't particular like but as he opens his eyes, he's granted the sight of Doc undressing fully. His tongue flicks between his lips at the sight of all of him. “See somethin' ya like, darlin'?” “You know it.” Doc chuckles softly as he climbs atop the bed and lightly spreads his legs wider for him to settle between. “Good to know,” he murmurs voice going husky as he shifts and presses into his heat, “Ahh, Robert...” Fingers interlock with his own, their palms pressed against each other as Doc pistons his hips dragging a ragged sound from between his lips as all the right spots within him are hit. “A-ahh...f-fuck...y-yes...like that…”

Doc’s lips curve upwards clearly pleased with his response though the sharpened breath he takes is just as satisfactory for Bobo himself to hear. “D-Definitely like the way you feel ‘round me, darlin’; hot and tight and perfect,” comes the low approving groan from the other as his blue eyes go half-lidded in pleasure.

A low, pleased rumble escapes him as he presses his hips up to meet the other’s thrusts delighting in the feeling of being stretched and filled as the heat coils in his lower stomach. He lets his eyes close, inviting the sensations to intensify until it’s all he can focus on; the feel of John Henry laying claim to him.

The shifts of his partner’s hips go from the mix of slow and gentle and fast and sharp to almost desperate as he feels him shake and knows that the same coiling heat intensifying in him is doing the same in the other. He shifts his hips upwards pressing himself as tightly against the other’s body despite the angle because he wants this; wants to feel him reach his peak.

There is something so satisfying to Bobo about making him lose that much control. And it is that and more when he feels the male start to shudder and the breathing is harsher, reedy. And it's not long until a sharp exhalation proceeds the feel of him spilling in him, fingers tightening reflexively as he does so. It's enough; the hot spill, the harsh panting and the jerking spasm that has Bobo hitting another orgasm himself. He lets his eyes flutter as he feels the other slip from him and withdraws from the bed. While Bobo dislikes the loss of warmth and closeness, he is sure that it'll be worth it because he does not like the thought of falling asleep sticky as he was no matter how pliant and nearly sleepy he is. So of course, he's not surprised to see Doc with a washcloth as he returns to him.

The cool rag feels amazing against his skin and he gives a low sound of contentment, eyes fluttering. The soft smile isn’t missed before John Henry joins him on the bed at his side, fingers lightly stroking along his stubbled jaw. He nuzzles against the touch content and happy to just be here with this man. “Thank you,” comes the soft murmur, “For showing me this side of you, Robert.”

Reaching, he brings the others hand close and presses soft kisses along the digits in response with a soft hum reverberating in his throat. It earns a chuckle before John Henry would settle at his side arm curled around him.

It’s when he knows the other is asleep with his evened breathing and the low snore that he murmurs to the dark, “I should be the one thanking you for taking this so well. For handling me so well. I do love you. So much. Don’t you change, John Henry Holliday.”

Maybe, one day, he’d tell the man all of this aloud.

#Fanfic: Wynonna Earp #Hollirey #Bobo Del Rey x Doc Holliday #Bobo Del Rey #Doc Holliday

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holylulusworld · 6 years ago

Text

Unrequited – Part 18

Summary: When John and your father agree to an arranged marriage between their children, they never planned Dean could fall for someone else. Knowing about the arrangement and loving Dean at the same time makes it impossible for you to not feel the heartbreak every time you see him smiling at her. (I shortened the request a bit) Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic/best friends), Arthur Ketch, Jody Mills, OFC’s, Toni Bevella Warnings: angst, fighting, characters death, mind games, language, fluff

Unrequited Masterlist

One week later you gathered all hunters and huntresses you know and who were willing to follow your call in an old hide-out.

“We all know by now these British bastards are not here to help or to support us. They killed our friends, allies…family. I want to strike back. Hard. Fast. Bloody. No mercy this time. We all are experienced in killing monsters – not men but this time the men are the real monsters.” Dean begins.

“I know this is a tough decision, but we all know Sam and Dean. Both are ready to die to protect innocent people or other hunters. I will support them, no matter what.” You add and Dean squeezes your hand tightly.

“Even after what he did to you?” One of the hunters you barely know asks.

“What do you mean?” Sam asks looking at the hunter.

“We all know he left her to die. Now she’s supporting him?” The hunter spats.

“Dean didn’t know I was there. It was Lisa not telling him about me. We talked things out and I do trust Dean. He proved it not a week ago. If you want to go, there is the door.” You say pointing toward the exit.

“Alright, if anyone wants to leave, do it now. I don’t want someone who will not participate to know any details about our plan.” Dean says and the hunter from before and two others leave the room.

“Anyone else wants to leave?” Jody asks. “Good. Sam will explain our plan now. I’m already informed so I will meet up with Donna so she can bring Claire and Alex out of town. I’ll be back in half an hour. If you need me, just call, Y/N.” Jody says placing her hand onto your shoulder.

“Bring your girls to Donna to make sure they are safe. We will take it from here.” Dean says and Jody gives him a warm smile.

----

“Do you want to fill me in why you not just messed up our little game but lost the Winchesters and Dean’s love interest at the same time?” Toni spats.

“How should I have known he would choose Y/N, not Lisa. I wanted him to suffer too, Lady Bevell.” Ketch retorts. His looks are icy, and he blames Toni for the wrong information.

“I gave you all the information we gathered. Dean did not marry Lisa Braeden; he left her and was looking for Y/N for ages. Now they are back together, and you assumed he would not choose her?” Toni exhales annoyed. “It’s not my fault you are not able to use my information.”

“Watch your tongue.” Ketch threatens his hand wrapped tightly around the much smaller woman’s neck. “I can kill you in a blink. The Winchesters will suffer for sure. I’ll force him to choose once again. This time between her and his brother.”

“We need the Winchesters alive, Arthur.” Toni protests.

“I know but you never said I can’t break them. Do you know what will happen if Dean decides to save Sam and not Y/N? He will hate himself and Sam, he will hate his brother too. Both men will lose the most important woman in their lives and I’ll witness it…priceless.” Ketch chuckles and even Toni gulps hard.

“This will break them beyond repair, but we need strong hunters. Everyone worships the Winchesters in the hunter’s community, Ketch.”

“A broken man can be manipulated much easier, Toni. Have a little faith in me and my methods. I’ll break them down and you can build them up again.” Ketch snickers leaving the room in a good mood and a plan to break Dean once for all.

----

“This base is their most important building. Weapons, information…reinforcement. If we can blow it up and kill them, they are out of business for a while.” Sam explains as you glance at the blueprints.

“This looks like a weak spot, Sam. We could hack the door, it’s a simple lock.”

“Great idea. I wanted to burst the door open using my big beautiful baby, but this will work too.” Dean chuckles and you shake your head.

“Hmm…we need to get into their system. This room looks like a server room. I’ll use the flash drive my friend prepared to get their data and will delete all data these bastards gathered. We can’t let anyone have information about us or the people we love.”

“Perfect, Y/N. Dean and you will take this sector. Jody, Sean and I will infiltrate this sector.” Sam says showing you the positions on the blueprints.

“We should meet up here. Looks like an important room. The security is much better. DNA scanner and guards. I bet their boss is in there.”

“I think so.”

“After we got the data we will blow up the building using my explosive. I will not let anyone get away with killing our friends. This is war and we are going to win it.” You state and Dean grins at you.

“Damn, woman. I love the way you think.”

“’cause you do - I’m awesome. Shame you saw me that late.” You tease as you check the blueprints once again. “We need to be careful. This is the only chance we will get. These bastards believe we will choose flight instead of fight, they are wrong. I’ve got something useful for us in my trunk. Got one for all of us.”

“Okay. Anyone wants to leave the party; this is your last chance.” Dean says clapping his hands.

No one in the room moves. Silence is washing over the hunters, knowing this is a take it or leave it situation.

“These guys are used to dominate monsters, people and situations. We will show them American hunters are not someone you want to mess with.” Sam says and Dean looks at his brother full of pride. “As Sammy said, let’s kick some asses.”

----

“Is everything prepared to get hold of the Winchester and his slut?” Ketch asks and Toni rolls her eyes. “Believe it or not Arthur, I know my job. Men are on their way to her house, the bunker and Jody Mills house.”

“Good. I want to see him suffer and play a bit with him before we turn them into perfect soldiers.” Ketch snickers outside the base. Ready to leave his eyes widen as six cars speed toward the gate.

“Toni! Alert the guards.” Ketch gasps running toward the Impala but you are already hacking the door to let the hunters in. “You have some guts, Winchesters, I must admit. Nice move, thank you for coming to us instead of letting us hunt you down.”

“You’re welcome, asshole. I suggest you go down on your knees and lick the ground before I plant a bullet to your brain.” Dean retorts and Ketch starts grinning.

“I suggest you look at your chest.” A red dot appears on Dean’s, Sam’s, and your chest. A trap…a goddamn trap. It was too good to be true…

“Who is the traitor?” You ask.

“Sean was busy telling us all about your nice, little plan, Y/N. I’m sure your friends are dead by now. How about another game, Dean? Let’s play…Sammy or Y/N this time.” Ketch snickers and Dean gasps.

“You’ve got to be kidding me, sick bastard.” Dean snarls through gritted teeth.

“Not at all. Choose, twenty seconds, the clock is ticking. Same rules, choose one, the other dies. Choose none…both die…” Smirking Ketch looks at Dean’s shocked features. He can see desperation spread out all over the hunter’s face.

“Choose, Y/N. Dean, just choose her.” Sam says and you shake your head. “No, Sammy…no. Dean, look at me. I love you but you and Sammy, you need to keep on fighting. Do it…choose Sam, please. Just choose your brother.” You sniffle and Dean’s hands start shaking.

“I can’t…” The hunter chokes out. “I can’t choose…”

“Dean, choose Y/N…please.” Sam tries once again.

“Five seconds left, Dean…” Ketch chuckles.

“Dean, please…choose Sam…just do it. I know you love me, prove it by respecting my decision.”

“Time’s up. Your decision, Dean.”

“Sammy…” Dean whispers and not a blink later a bullet hits your chest. Red liquid leaves your body and you fall to the ground.

With shaking hands Dean runs toward you as Ketch motions the snipers to leave the roof. His grin widens while Dean holds you in his arms. “I’m sorry.” He whispers and Ketch starts smiling but his smile fades as he sees you raising your hand, a gun aimed to his head and he curses before the bullet hits his forehead.

“You’ve got punk’d, asshole.” You chuckle.

“Damn, these bulletproof vests were a great idea, Baby.” Dean pants. “Good thing they didn’t aim the gun to our heads.”

“Shit didn’t think that far.” You tease. “Let’s meet up with Jody. Donna and Garth should’ve taken care of Sean by now. Traitor…”

----

“Sammy I must admit your and Y/N’s plan was, awesome. Tricking Sean by letting the other hunters go, hiding Donna and Garth in Jody’s truck…the bulletproof vests…true master achievement.” Dean praises and you grin at him.

“We still need to get the data and meet up with the others. Let’s hurry and kick some asses. It’s your turn to pay for food by the way.” You say running toward the building.

“Not fair, woman,” Dean mutters running after you.

“Will we talk about you choosing me over Y/N?” Sam mutters.

“It was her idea, Bitch. Y/N feared the vest might be too small for you, Sasquatch.”

“Still…you could’ve said something.”

Looking at his younger brother Dean’s features soften. Even knowing it was a trick it hit Sam hard seeing you getting hit by a bullet.

“I’m sorry, Sammy. It had to look ‘real’…now let’s hurry…”

----

“What shall we do with the data?” Jody asks glancing at all the information you stole at the BMOL headquarter. Every mission, every dirty detail is now in your hands.

“So far, I got no clue, Jody. These people are bastards but Ketch said they barely have any monsters in the UK. Maybe we keep this locked away as long as they never set a foot onto our ground again.”

“Were you able to delete our data?” Sam asks glancing at the laptop to check the information about monsters, weapons, and stuff.

“Everything according to us and other hunters got deleted. I stole some nice lore stuff for you. Might be handy on hunts.”

“A huge collection of data. Would you mind if I…” Sam trails of reading the first document. “Go ahead and have fun, Sammy. I’ve got a copy for every hunter.”

“What will happen to Sean?” Jody asks and you shrug. “Got no clue, Jody. We can’t trust him. He had the chance to stay out of this fight, but he chose to betray every hunter, he would’ve let them kill us, his friends and allies. Any suggestions?” You sigh.

“Kill him?” Dean mutters glancing at the handcuffed man in a chair in the library. Sean is furiously shaking his head, but Dean just gives him a dark glare.

“I could fake a crime. Sent him to jail for a while or we let every hunter know what he did. Donna, Garth and the others have connections. I have connections…just like you. Everyone will know what he did. Let him survive out there without a network helping him.” Jody suggests and you look at Dean.

“Your plan is even better. No one will help this piece of shit ever again. Within the next week, every hunter in the US will know what you did. You’ve got two options, run to your British friends or run from us for the rest of your life…your decision…” Dean chuckles glancing at Sean.

“What a collection.” Sam swoons and you smile at your friend’s enthusiasm.

“Dude, don’t orgasm about lore…” Dean chuckles and Sam glares at him. Giving him his cold bitch face.

“I don’t know about you all, but I’m beaten. I’m going to hit the hay.” Jody yawns.

“I prepared a room for you.”

“Thanks, Y/N.”

----

Three hours later you are still wide awake. Lying in Dean’s arms, on his bed you can’t find sleep.

“You okay?”

“It’s just…this is the first time I’m allowed to be in your room for longer than five minutes…feels odd.” You whisper.

“We can choose a new room to share if you want to. I want you to feel welcome. I want to start anew and do everything right this time.” Dean whispers as his lips ghost over your hair.

“Can we decide tomorrow. I’m so tired…tell me anything to make me fall asleep…but no dirty jokes…”

“Hmm…let’s see…when you were nineteen you changed clothes and I watched you. It was the first time I saw you almost completely nude. Every time I was with a girl I imagined you…”

“Pervert!” You mutter. “Should kick your ass! Playing Peeping Tom!”

“Did you never peek?”

“No…never…” You lie. Dean’s brows furrow and he looks at your flushed face. “You’re a pervert yourself…I knew it.”

“What? We lived in the bunker together. I wanted to have a shower and saw your naked ass…”

“I bet you got off to my cute ass.”

“Didn’t have the time. The next day I almost died…”

“I’m sorry…”

“But it’s a nice ass, Dean.”

“Wanna see it? Could strip for you.” Dean rasps.

“I’m tired, maybe tomorrow…”

“Sounds like a plan…”

Unrequited Tags

@tftumblin, @malfoysqueen14, @lysawayne, @bitchwhytho , @roonyxx , @peachesandberrys, @myownsnowflake, @wolfgirl-1981, @havlindzk, @racewife2004

Forever Tags

@donnaintx, @screechingartisancashbailiff, @fallen-wolf22, @sister-winchesters99, @mogaruke, @the-is13, @helloitsmeamie203, @strayrosesbloom, @thewinchesterco, @hobby27, @kittycatlover18, @gh0stgurl, @marvelfansworld , @sandlee44, @hawaiianohana31, @unlikelysamwinchesteronahunt, @katpatrova17, @notyourtypicalrose , @heyitscam99, @onethingthatkeepsmealive, @natura1phenomenon, @flamencodiva, @echoesofpassion, @cocklesbelli, @voltage-my2dlove, @fandom-princess-forevermore, @thenamelesschibi, @lauravic, @fandomsrourlives, @wittysunflower, @drakelover78, @lemondropirwin, @lonewolf471, @wronglanemendes, @electraphygelectraphyng , @spnhollis, @void-imaginations, @jay-and-dean, @shatteredabby , @juniorhuntersam, @helpmeluci, @neii3n, @goodgodimaweirdperson, @alltimesamantha, @chonisberonica, @supernaturalonice @stuckys-whore, @shadowkat-83, @officialmarvelwhore, @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel, @wecantgiggleitsafandom, @meganywinchester, @shikshinkwon, @miraclesoflove, @yolobloggers,@guardian-tn, @lu-sullivan, @maniacproffesor, @hollymac79, @straycuties9, @destieladdict-221b, @kayla-2000, @ilovefanfic86, @gracefultrenchcoat494, @babygirls-fav, @sadn0va

If your name is crossed out Tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason. Sorry.

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags

@spnfamily-j2, @supernatural-bellawinchester, @butifulsoul125, @lyinginthegingerlocks, @deans-baby-momma, @hawaiianohana31, @spn-dean-and-sam-winchester, @20gayneen, @janicho88, @thefaithfulwriter, @dreaminemz, @negans-lucille-tblr @sadwaywardkid, @akshi8278, @hhiggs, @midnightsilver16830, @mrspeacem1nusone, @ria132love, @caligraphee, @the-witch-in-silence, @multisuperfandom, @deansgirl-1968, @justanotherwinchester, @jadesupernatural

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carmenlire · 6 years ago

Text

Red-Handed

Warning for canon compliant self harm.

read on ao3

It claws at his skin, rips at his veins. He wants it so bad he can taste it.

He knows that it would ground him, that it would silence the wolf he can ear pacing behind a door he keeps locked.

It’s been locked for ages. All he wants now , though, is to open it, to let the wolf in.

God. He presses desperate fingers into his temples and the relief quickly turns to pain.

It’s not enough.

Traitorous tears build and it’s stupid; it’s so goddamn stupid but he feels like a cornered animal and there’s only one way to stop it.

The reset button is bloody and stained and he needs it so bad that he’s shaking with it. No matter that it’s been years since he last felt like this, since it’s been this bad.

The tide is so overwhelming, pulling him under with dark, seductive waves that promise relief.

That promise escape.

Looking down, he’s stunned when he sees red smeared across his palm. With a desperate inhale, his eyes scan over his hands and he sees that while he was distracted, he pulled a hangnail free.

A little too hard, it seems and he’s memorized as blood wells in the shallow cut. He presses down hard on the tender spot but it’s still not enough. The little spark of pain isn’t enough.

Except that when he pulls back, it’s still bleeding and by the angel, it feels so good. Reminding him of what he could have, what he did have once upon a time.

His hands are shaking.

There’s a frenzy in his blood and he can feel his heart beating-- too fast and too much and he hasn’t felt like this in fucking years.

He tries to tell himself it’s been a shit day, that’s all. A shadowhunter rookie fucked up royally on a mission and he’s taken the Clave’s heat. It seems like he can't do anything right today-- spilling coffee as soon as he'd gotten to his office, accidentally permanently deleting an important file he'd worked on for years, having to stop what he's doing every three minutes as yet another one of his shadowhunters knocks on his door with an issue.

It’s a bad day, nothing more.

A part of him thinks that if he says it enough, thinks it hard enough, then maybe he’ll believe it.

There’s still blood on his palm, dried now. Rubbing it away with a thumb, he frowns as nothing happens.

So he scrubs harder but still-- there’s still blood on his hands.

He wants more.

It’s desperate, this craving.

Without quite knowing how, he finds himself in the training room. He’s breathing hard and it’s from keeping the tears in or because his heart won’t stop trying to beat out of his chest or because he can taste oblivion and it’s sweeter than he remembers.

He uses a training bow. Not his own-- He doesn’t have time to get it.

Left alone, no one disturbs him and he loses track of time as he reaches for arrow after arrow after arrow.

There’s more blood on his hands.

He forgot how much he loved this feeling. There’s no thinking when the only thing he can feel is the trickle of blood down his wrist. There’s no feeling when his mind is empty, blissfully fucking empty for the first time in longer than he can remember.

His hands are steadier now. They have to be because he never misses a shot. He’s never sloppy. He’s the best goddamn archer in The States-- in the whole of North America and he’d place bets on being the best anywhere.

He’s trained harder and longer and with more fury than anyone else.

This, he knows how to do. He might be a shit leader and piss poor in every other area of his life but the one thing that’s always rang true is that his arrow meets the goddamn bulls-eye every fucking time.

He feels half out of his mind and completely out of his body. A part of him thinks that he’s not the one firing dozens of arrows; it’s someone else.

The voices take ages and ages to quiet. His heart feels like it’s cracking, shattering all over the floor of the Institute.

He’s so tired. His eyes burn and his chest aches but he keeps reaching for arrows to dull the pain with something stronger.

A feeling chokes him and it takes awhile to place it. It’s been so long since he last felt it.

It’s the feeling that this is as good as it gets. This is the best he’ll ever be and it makes his gut lurch.

Because the best he’ll ever be is a failure, not good enough.

Not enough.

Stumbling away from where he’d been standing for hours, he drops his arm. Only now does he feel the ache from keeping it raised for so long.

A headache starts behind his eyes.

He feels empty, drained.

Looking down at his hand, he sucks in a sharp breath. Blood covers his fingers, smears across his palm, runs down his wrist. There’s a tiny little pool of it on the ground where he’d been standing.

His breathing grows harsh in the quiet of the training room. His eyes are fixed to the crimson puddle, memorized.

It’s been so long since this last happened and just like that, he’s sucked back in.

The pain is vicious in his hand and his hearing picks up the sound of the drops that fall from his lax fingers.

In a slow topple, he falls until he’s sitting on the floor, staring at what he’s just done. It’s like he comes back to himself, the veil lifting to reveal what he’s always feared.

It’s back.

He let it in.

He wasn’t strong enough to keep the tide back.

His mouth is dry and when he swallows, it’s painful.

I deserves it, he thinks.

That’s what I get, he tells himself with a self-hatred so deep it makes him sick.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there before applying an iratze, before laboriously cleaning up his mess.

When he goes home that night, there’s no evidence of what he’s done. Shame burns bright and there must be shadows in his eyes because his husband kisses him and asks what’s wrong in a careful tone.

When he replies nothing in a gruff voice, he almost chokes on the word. It tastes like ash in his mouth. It tastes like deceit.

He rationalizes it. It was only once. One slip-up, no need to concern his husband.

Except, as it turns out, it’s not an isolated accident.

It’s a little terrifying, how easy it is to slip back into old habits. He knows just how to hide his injuries. Excuses roll off his tongue like so much bullshit that he almost believes them himself.

The craving is a low grade addiction. He finds himself in the training room more than he has since he was appointed Inquisitor. He goes on missions and that gives him more plausible deniability-- wounds are to be expected on patrol, after all.

His mind feels wrapped in cotton, his thoughts are circuitous and exhausting and there’s so much self-loathing that he thinks he could suffocate on it.

Supposes he will someday, eventually.

He enters their loft long after his husband falls asleep. His sleep is shit lately. He wakes up often, the bed uncomfortable and he wonders how he ever found a good night’s rest on the goddamned torture rack.

Eating slips his mind more often than not. He’s so busy and there’s a little voice in his head that whispers maybe he doesn’t deserve to eat-- not when he’s such a fuck up, not when he has so much on his plate.

He’s tired, all the time. It feels like he’s dragging himself through the day and it gets harder each morning to wake up and pretend like he’s just like everyone else.

There’s always solace, though. When he pulls the string of his bow taut, he finds relief. He breathes deep on the release and his mind empties for one glorious second.

He chases that feeling. Most of him thinks he’ll chase that feeling straight into hell.

It’s months after his slip up when he swings open the door to the loft and comes to a freezing halt.

Because there's his husband, waiting up for him.

His first thought is, you should be asleep.

His husband studies him and it’s clinical, on the surface at least. He sees the worry lingering in his eyes, though, and fury--blinding rage-- sweeps through him when those lovely gold eyes fall to his hands.

There’s nothing to see but that doesn’t make him feel any less exposed.

Cornered.

The irritation is absurd, over the top. There’s shouting and he knows as he yells that he’s wrong but he can’t help himself.

Don’t you trust me, he cries. How dare you accuse me of-- of what? Lying to you?

Words are flung in his face and they’re desperate and beseeching but firm nonetheless.

I asked you not to push me away when things get crazy.

It’s a long night and if he thought he was tired before, it’s nothing to the bone-deep exhaustion that seems to weigh him down once he admits that things have been bad for weeks, that he hasn’t told anyone about his training sessions, hasn’t dared mention the rest of it.

It’s hard. It’s so damned hard.

They talk, though. Long into the night, after the tears and recriminations, they go to bed and spend hours talking.

It’s a balm on his soul. It’s a different kind of relief but he likes this one so much better.

It’s a long road back. His fingers twitch for release far longer than he thinks appropriate. He lets his husband talk him into therapy-- something he’d scoffed at and yearned for by turns since he was old enough to realize that other people didn’t feel the way he did, didn’t resort to the things he did to quiet the voices and doubt.

It’s a long road back and he slips a few times. Stumbles a few more besides.

Still, his husband remains by his side and he never hides the bad times again, even when he wants to, even when it’s the only thought he can reach.

Slowly, things get better and while he quietly fears that it will come back-- that everything will come crashing back down in a year, five years, a hundred-- he builds himself back up with sheer determination and pure grit and a plodding sense of hope.

One day at a time, he tells himself when things are bad.

One day at a time.

#my writing #red-handed #malec fic #alec lightwood

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luckyspike · 6 years ago

Text

No neighborhood is free of sin - a good omens fanfiction

Link to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Kudos appreciated!

Nextdoor.com had been Crowley’s idea. Crowley had always liked neighborhoods - there were just so many opportunities for humans to enrage one another when they lived in such close proximity and had to pretend to be nice. In the early days, before the internet, Crowley had reveled in town hall meetings, neighborhood watch councils, and local book clubs. He’d embedded himself in his Mayfair neighborhood, sowing dissent and discord among the community. For years, he had been the quiet voice in someone’s ear - oh, you know you probably would have gotten that promotion at work if you hadn’t been so tired, eh? Shame about the neighbors playing the music so loudly the night before - the stolen package off someone’s doorstep - of course it was those dirty millenials next door that took little Billy’s Christmas present - or the upturned rubbish bin in someone’s front garden. He’d been stray cats and dropped hardware from a neighbor’s DIY project that just happened to puncture someone’s tire on the way to work. He was footballs breaking through windows, and screaming babies next door during a romantic night in. His Mayfair neighborhood was among the most contentious in London, and walking into the fog of evil at the end of a long day was like a balm to his burned and aching (and barely-existent) soul.

But nextdoor.com, oh, what a stroke of brilliance that had been. He took the idea from the humans, of course, with their clever Facebook idea and MySpace and social media. But the concept of a neighborhood media site followed so smoothly, that aside from a few whispered words into the ears of some young programmers in America*, he’d barely had to lift a finger. Nextdoor.com had burst to life, and since then, Crowley had fallen in love.

[*Or rather, carefully-typed “thought experiments” sent via email from one of his multitudinous email addresses that, typically, appeared to belong to very wealthy tech investorsI.]

His favorite thing was, of course, the people who always had to have the last word in an argument. Pride, after all, was a sin anyway, and online media really provided him with a shining chance to provide one-on-one temptation to multiple people at a time by way of arguing with them on the internet, one of his favorite activities.

He was up late tonight doing just that. He’d had a lovely dinner with Aziraphale - an Ethiopian restaurant that Aziraphale had been wanting to explore, with food so spicy that even Crowley had a few bites - and come home, unwinding by logging into one of his several accounts and promptly starting to complain about the barking dog one building over.

‘listen its my bloody dog and hes allowed to bark in my flat if he wants to’ replied Crowley’s victim for tonight - based on his profile picture, he appeared to be a young solicitor with political aspirations in the future. Crowley figured he might as well start working on the young man now in the early days - no sense in putting his inevitable hellish corruption off when it would be so easy to do now.

‘i’ll have you know that i have a very important job,’ Crowley started his reply, considering where to go from that point. ‘i work 90 hours per week. i make more money in five minutes than you make in a year. shut your dog up or i’ll sue.’ And, send reply. And wait. He sat back in his chair, and savored a mouthful of wine.

Yes, this was proper demonic work. Fuck Hastur and Ligur, fuck craftsmanship, this was easy - he was in pajamas and drinking wine, for someone’s sake - and it was fun. His phone binged with a reply notification.

‘good luck suing, knobhead, i’m a solicitor and i’ve been in numerous trials - too numerous to count. feel free to try to take me up in court, i look forward to the day i get to let my dog bark straight in your smug face, whoever you are, Jacob.’ Ah yes, Jacob Coppersmith, one of Crowley’s favorite online aliases. The demon smiled and crafted his reply.

‘yeah I bet you are, law lad. shut your fucking dog up or i’ll come do it for you. i’ve tracked your IP address, i know where you live.’ Crowley did not elaborate further. In reality, he rather disliked the thought of harming dogs - they were true innocents, unless they were hellhounds or chihuahuas, and even he felt profane trying to hurt them - but his reply would hopefully get a rise out of the young solicitor. He waited.

And waited rather longer. He refilled his wine glass, and paced around his office, and still his phone did not alert to a new message. He refreshed the page, nothing. He had nearly given it up for the night - there would be another opportunity in the future, there always was - when his level of Amber’s Airline was interrupted by a push notification from the neighborhood app. He abandoned the level immediately to read it.

‘don’t call me law lad you fucking knob’

Crowley replied quickly. Quickly, quickly, it was late, the humans would be going to sleep soon ... hurry, hurry. He narrated the entire reply into his voice-to-text feature** and, forgoing a quick proof-read, sent it.

‘ok solicitor shithead’

[** Snake eyes were wonderful for menacing humans and striking the fear of the Devil into their hearts. They were not so wonderful for reading, typing, sewing, or anything else that required any significant level of visual acuity at all, really.]

The reply came quickly: ‘fucking delete this you fucking dick!!! what gives you the right!’ Crowley cackled out loud. Yes, yes this was the end goal. He could practically taste the low-grade evil, smooth like a finely-aged wine, sliding over his tongue. He raised his phone to his mouth and dictated: ‘no law lad’

There was not a reply immediately. But quickly - as soon as the app indicated he’d posted - he heard a frustrated scream, followed by alarmed barking. And then a door slammed open.

“I know you live around here, Jacob!” someone - the solicitor, oh, Crowley, could have hissed it was so wonderful - shouted into the late-night air. “I know you can hear me! You hear me? I won’t shut up! My dog has every right to bark in my home! I won’t tell him to stop! Log off you idiot! Log off and leave me alone!”

Crowley heard the door slam again a moment later, and he slid lower in his seat, taking a self-satisfied sip of his wine. Oh, yes, that was the stuff. He weighed the options, and then smiled gently, dictating his reply and then, after an aggressive two seconds of squinting to ensure the construction and grammar were to his liking, he sent: ‘who the fuck is scraeming “LOG OFF” at my house. show yourself, coward. i will never log off’.

The enraged scream that followed gave him such a warm tingle of infernal rage that he very much doubted he’d be able to sleep that night. But it was alright, he reasoned, as the screaming continued from another flat nearby, and then was met with shouts of ‘shut up!’ and ‘people are trying to sleep here!’ Ah, yes, the beauty of the internet. The true stroke of genius of nextdoor.com. Three angry people, three weakened souls.

Crowley sighed, satisfied with a terrible job well-done, and waved the TV on, although he wasn’t paying attention. He was thinking, rather pleasantly, about fireworks. Yes ... perhaps tomorrow. Plenty of fireworks. At two AM, yes. He would time a complaint post for the neighborhood too, just to get the ball rolling. He finished his drink, and refilled the glass, and settled back as the sound of a cricket match washed over him, entertaining thoughts of fireworks and burnt garbage and very angry neighbors.

#good omens #crowley is an internet troll #dril quotes #side eye reference to marine meme #the glorious crackfic wednesday #i wish i didn't enjoy fanfiction so much #anthony j crowley #anthony janthony crowley

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our-heroes-rise · 6 years ago

Note

Mina ashido w/ a fem!crush who got injured during the usj attack pls (u decide if she got injured severely or not)

hey love! thanks for requesting! now, i don’t want you to worry if this part doesn’t meet the needs of your request because i’m going to follow up on it with a second part. i just had so much fun writing the attack scene and coming up with a quirk and action scene for the reader that i didn’t realize i had hardly followed up on your request! the second part is already in progress so it should be out soon. either way i hope you enjoy this part of your request and i’ll tag you in the next one when it comes out!

(i accidently answered your other request because i got this one confused with the other one. it’s my fault for not properly reading what you sent and i deeply apologize but i had to delete the other ask. thankfully though i still have it saved on my docs so don’t worry!)

A sprain, you told yourself. It’s just a sprain. You’re fine, keep fighting.

Even as the horribly sharp pain continued to rip through your entire leg with every step you took to dodge, defend, or attack against the villain you were up against. You were doing your best to ignore it though, fighting through the pain with every punch or burst of energy you threw at the villain. He knew you were injured, if your limp didn’t give it away you were sure the blood trickling down the side of your face did. The sinister smile plastered across his face told you he was absolutely delighted by your injuries, and that he was thoroughly enjoying watching you hobble around on mostly one foot while you dodged his advances. It made your stomach twist uncomfortably as it reminded you of a predator playing with its food, allowing their prey to think they were winning, that they had a chance of escaping before the predator pounced and ended it all in one swift move.

–

You had been excited for the day of training to finally begin, especially when you showed up to the USJ and got to see the huge and amazing training ground in all of its multi-disaster glory. This is what you had been waiting for; for the real hero training to begin, to finally prove that you were ready to become the greatest hero you could be. Even if it was just a simple disaster training it would require almost the same skills and traits as trying to defend civilians against a villain. Not to mention, Mina, your best friend, and longtime crush would be right there with you, training and cheering for each other together.

She was smiling at you, beaming so brightly it could put the sun to shame. Your heart fluttered a bit at the sight and you could feel the heat already begin to creep its way up to your cheeks as you returned her smile with a wide, excited grin of your own.

“This is so exciting,” she cried, jumping up and letting out a high pitched squeal, her body practically shaking with joy. You let out a laugh and winced slightly when she gave your arm a playful punch, maybe a bit harder than she intended. “We finally get to train like real pros on a rescue mission. Are you ready, Y/n?”

But before you could answer, all hell broke loose.

Villains, close to a hundred, appeared out of nowhere, stepping from a swirling black hole of darkness grinning up at your class like starved monsters and like you were the first meal they had seen in weeks.

Despite your heart pounding loud enough to hear it in your own ears, your first instinct had been to protect Mina, the closest and most important person to you out of all your classmates. The fact that she could fend for herself was well known by you, but no matter how selfish the act may seem you weren’t about to let someone try to hurt your friend, not without putting up a fight. However, your plan quickly changed when the black hole was suddenly standing before you and your class.

Terror had frozen every muscle in your body solid, but then those idiots, Bakugou and Kirishima tried attacking the villain. Obviously, you didn’t know much about the dark masses quirk, other than his apparent ability to transport people, but you could tell that any physical attack wouldn’t cause him any damage. He was made out of smoke for God’s sake, weren’t they thinking at all?

You heard Thirteen’s order for them to move out of the way, but the two boys didn’t budge, even after they realized their attack had failed. The Hero was preparing to use her quirk and they stood directly in her path. At this realization something in your head snapped, you flung your hands out towards the two boys feeling your energy snag on the back of their costumed just as the dark mass surged forward. You managed to tug the two away from the dark mass towards you and Mina, but the darkness had already surrounded you and two heavy bodies collided into yours.

Mina shouted your name as she tried to reach for you until there was a flash of gleaming silver and she was gone.

Your head smacked against the concrete with three times the weight and force than it should have, and within a split second unconsciousness found you.

Splintering pain sprouting from the center of your leg jolted you awake, a terrible scream ripping from your throat startled the two boys away from you. Then, as if being thrown into a different location away from the pro’s and Mina and having your leg injured from Kirishima landing on it couldn’t already be bad enough, things got even worse. More villains, grinning like the ones from before, were already waiting for you.

–

“You must be tired from moving around on that leg for so long,” the villain hissed, hands twitching oddly while more rubble gathered around behind him. He had a stone-wielding quirk, perfect for an earthquake zone where you were surrounded by nothing but loose razor sharp rocks. “Why don’t you take a break, sweetheart? It’ll save me the energy of chasing you around.”

The rubble from behind him burst forward with a firm thrust of his hand. Grunting with the effort to shield yourself with your energy, you brought your hands up to conceal your face if all else went wrong. Your quirk, Aura, worked through converting bodily energy to physical energy, allowing power for you to mold and wield in whatever way you pleased as long you had a good imagination. A rather unusual quirk, but it was powerful enough to cause serious damage to your opponents when you were at your peak strength, the only serious downside of it is that it took a lot out of you if you weren’t careful to ration your strength. These relentless attacks weren’t giving you any time to recharge though, and you could feel your stamina beginning to waver.

“Keep talking like a creep and I’ll do more than knock you out.” You brought your arms down along with your energy shield at the sound of stone falling to the floor, eyes flickering around the room to look for your other classmates. Bakugou and Kirishima were still preoccupied with the other villains, having taken down five together, while you only barely managed to take down two. They seemed to be holding up well enough, so you turned your attention back towards your villain.

A second too late.

The villain lunged at you, hands outstretched to wrap around your neck, giving you little time to react. Until your body was moving before your brain could comprehend your actions. You sidestepped his advance, but you used the wrong leg and a cry echoed through the room as white hot pain shot up your leg. The next thing you felt was your head smacking against the stone floor for the second time that day, black spots bursting across your field of vision. Struggling to stay conscious you still made an attempt to pick yourself up, to put as much distance between you and the villain as possible.

I think I’ve just made it worse.

Cackling like a maniac the villain began approaching, hands twitching once again, gathering new ruble around him.

Your mind was racing as you struggled to lift yourself from the ground, the pain from your leg nearly unbearable. There was a lump forming in your throat, hot tears stinging your eyes and blurring your vision. You wanted to give up, to accept that you might die here and never see Mina again, or be able to confess your feelings to her.

Not like you ever had the guts to anyway.

It was then that it hit you in the midst of all this chaos and shouting, seconds away from being pelted to death by a wave of razor blade stones. That frustration. That anger. Not directed at anyone else but yourself for being a complete coward. For not having confessed your feelings sooner. For letting yourself be torn down by fear and doubt. And for almost letting yourself give up in the middle of a fight while the others were giving their all to survive. You were still breathing with control over your quirk and most your body, and you most definitely still had enough strength left to get you out of this situation.

Through furious teary eyes, you glared at the villain while he still cackled away, pointing one clawed finger at your face. “You wanna go cry to your mommy, sweetheart? That’s too bad.” His wicked grin returned, “I promise to make this quick.”

A flame flickered within you, quickly rising as it was being fueled by that horrible anger still rampaging through your thoughts until all you could feel was your heart pounding against your chest and the power roaring through your veins.

No, you weren’t done yet.

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bnha scenario #mha scenario #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mina ashido #bnha ashido #mha ashido #mina x reader #katsuki bakugou #Kirishima Eijirou

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