#is the pairing called double A...ill cry

[humanjarvis]

winterbreak

tags: professor/student, plot with porn, complete au but i stole the name akso, whirlwind romance, age gap (zayne is 30 and reader is 21), power imbalance, mentally ill reader, isolated reader, unreliable reader, references to self-harm, references to suicide attempts, zayne isn't a bad person this is just a bad pairing, if it looks like zayne and it talks like zayne is it zayne, alcohol use, ambiguous ending (there will be no part 2), unhappy ending, virginity loss, breakup (twice), breakup sex, boob sucking, fingering, slight cum eating, missionary, condoms, riding (failed), crying. there are lengthy flashbacks & time skips. this is the most experimental/abstract thing i've written so far. title & zayne's perspective inspired by "winterbreak" by muna, reader's perspective inspired by "somewhere" by charlotte lawrence

pairing: professor zayne x student reader

word count: 11.6k

a/n: this is so incredibly not what it originally was that i don't even know what to say

read on ao3

Warm lips ghosted over yours in a cautious caress. Soft, tender, as if you might have vanished at any moment. 

A hand, gentle yet eager, settled around your waist. Urging you closer. Another lay on your cheek, tender, parting you open for more. 

A pause. A pull. Whispered praise against heated skin. 

Four months ago, you kissed Zayne for the first time. One month ago, you last spoke to him.

And every day, his words replayed in your mind:

“It feels like fate that I met you.”

Becoming a nurse wouldn’t be easy.

You’d known as much the first time you stepped through Akso University's double doors, greeted by the gaunt, stricken faces of students who'd seen one too many scantrons. 

But after spending years in and out of hospital rooms, under the kind gaze of caretakers who never judged your sunken eyes and hollow cheeks, you thought that maybe, the world would give you the chance to do the same. To make a difference in someone’s life, even if they’d lost their smile and gotten a little reckless. To do something that mattered, to be someone who mattered.

After a childhood of nightmares, nursing was your first dream. 

And you did everything you could to make it a reality. Between trips to the emergency room, you spent high school hidden behind the yellowing pages of used textbooks, learning, absorbing, until your eyes surrendered. Even then, you spent the space between consciousness and dreams replaying what you’d learned.

You couldn’t risk forgetting. You couldn’t risk missing a step. You had to get out, get better, get useful, and it was completely up to you. Your parents had seen one too many close calls and paid one too many medical bills to offer you anything more than a resentful glare. As if telling you to just do it already. As if their lives would be better if you did. 

The day that scholarship letter hit your email inbox was the best of your life. Tuition paid in full, with more than enough left over for you to move into your own apartment. 

So yes, the towering walls and prestigious programs were more than a little daunting. Yes, the number of students trudging by with energy drinks in hand was concerning. But the time you’d spent battling bouts of depression and perturbed parents; the nights you’d stayed up studying and barely gotten to rest; the already fragile friendships dissolved by your determination—they were all worth it under Akso’s stained glass ceiling.

At least, that’s what you thought, at first. The first two years, you burned bright. Letting your luck and rose-colored lenses send you straight to the top of your class, pushing through the bad days that tried to dull your shine. 

But as you entered your third year, you felt your star begin to fizzle. Akso was a lonely place, full of students trying to one-up each other and faculty subtly encouraging it. It wasn’t like you’d had close relationships before, but even your parents’ quiet rejection was better than being utterly invisible. 

You were rootless here. It was hard to celebrate success when barely anyone knew your name. 

You started the fall with slashed motivation, having to bargain with yourself to get out of bed. You couldn’t see the point when your actions seemed so meaningless. 

And Dr. Li was certainly no help. 

With jet black hair and jade green eyes, sharp features between rounded cheeks, and a sculpted body underneath his sweaters, he was more of a menswear model than a medical ethics professor. 

You couldn’t guess how old he was. It felt wrong to try, knowing he couldn’t be too far off from you. It was like revealing the existence of a legendary creature, only for it to lose its mystique. Like a secret that, once exposed, would suddenly feel a lot more real.

And Dr. Li was anything but real. You didn’t know his exact age, sure, but you knew for certain that he was ridiculously young to have achieved all he had. To have authored so many papers, won so many awards, and be trusted with a position at such a prestigious school…he was wise beyond his years. 

And he was the reason you were failing.

Dr. Li was a good professor. Engaging, responsive, passionate about his work. 

But he was absolutely terrifying. His face was cold, his tests were hard, and his brisk, deliberate steps at the beginning of every class made you realize that dread and admiration could be felt simultaneously. 

Since you’d been in his class, you’d started your days mired in loneliness, only to wash it down with his prescribed daily dose of inadequacy. 

You were slipping again.

You couldn’t let that happen. 

But that hadn't made the dark panels of his office door any less daunting. 

His soft voice—almost soothing, if it didn’t hold so much weight—sounded from behind the wood. “Come in.”

The office was plain, barely lived in despite his five-year tenure. Filtered sunlight shined on neat stacks of papers, and colorful textbooks lined the shelves. There were no personal photos, from what you could tell—only a framed translation of the Hippocratic Oath on the wall. The room smelled lightly of jasmine. 

You hardly realized you were snooping until the man in front of you cleared his throat, and your curious eyes met icy green ones. “May I help you?”

Feeling your cheeks heat, you cleared your own throat and smoothed your hair. “H-hello. I’m in your medical ethics class. I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering if you had time to discuss the first exam with me?” God, talking to him felt like pleading your case before a court justice. You bounced on your heels. “I want to improve my grade before we get too deep into the semester.” 

The face has 43 muscles, you recalled from your anatomy class. 

Not a single one of his moved. 

“I have time—that’s what office hours are for. Take a seat.” 

***

For the entire two hours, he went through each and every exam question with you. Differentiating a good answer from the best answer, sharing new sources, creating new scenarios and letting you come up with solutions.

When time was up, he looked at you—plainly, openly, as if it were his right to do so, and something warm and unfamiliar fluttered in your belly. 

“You’re the first person bold enough to attend my office hours this semester.” 

“I wouldn’t call it bold,” you mumbled, suddenly fixated on your too-long sleeves. “I just want to do well.” 

“Why is that?” 

Your eyes widened, and before you could stop them, they were fixed on his face. “What do you mean?”

He quirked a brow. Dr. Li leaned closer, hands neatly clasped over his mahogany desk. “Why do you want to do well? What motivates you?”

You thought for a moment. And then, the words poured out of you before you could stop them. 

“I could never really imagine a future for myself growing up,” you began with an awkward cough. “I didn’t have a lot of goals, other than making it to the next sunrise. When people asked what I wanted to do…I never had an answer.” 

Piercing green eyes nearly nailed you to the floor, and you averted your gaze. 

“And then,” you paused, “I wound up in the hospital. A few different stays. But every time…I was so in awe of the nurses. My parents were upset with me. My classmates thought I was scary. But none of those nurses ever looked at me with anything but compassion—and I decided I wanted to be one. To give other people that comfort.”

At your admission, his cold expression finally started to thaw. 

“One of the better reasons I’ve heard. I’m glad you’re here.” 

Here. A double meaning in a simple word. 

A lump formed in your throat, and all you managed was a whisper. “Thank you, sir.” 

“There’s no need for that. Call me Zayne.”

Days passed, leaves changed, and it turned out that Zayne wasn’t so intimidating after all. 

He was nice to talk to, after that first day. He listened and taught and looked at you with all the support in the world, as if there was nothing you could do or say to turn him away. He made you want to be here. He made you meaningful. 

So you kept visiting him in his office—even when your GPA was no longer in need of a lifeboat. You just wanted to be near him. To hear his quiet chuckle when you said something unexpected, to watch his eyes crinkle when you went toe-to-toe in a philosophical debate, to wonder what his subtle frown meant when he bid you goodbye. 

He was habitually lonely and had been forced to grow up too fast. The youngest professor in his department, he was undermined and ostracized for his achievements and repute. For being dedicated. For being different. 

But in all his divergence, he was more than a little like you. You couldn’t convey the comfort you found in that. If there were words to describe it, you’d never had a reason to use them. 

You and Zayne were like two melting snowflakes—unique but of the same kind, and falling perilously from the safety of the sky. But when you crossed paths, you re-formed into something more complete. Delicate, but strong. Beautiful in its novelty. 

Day after day, week after week, you saw him. Until that fateful day of your first kiss. 

It wasn't intentional—you didn't know whose lips had gravitated toward the other's first. You only knew that they did, and you were happier than you’d ever known you could be. 

When you whispered your goodbye to him that day, the frown on his face was replaced by a gentle, almost anticipatory smile. To see him look at you like that, to be the cause of it…you couldn’t suppress one of your own. And when you burst through the doors and squealed to yourself, your warm cheeks met the cool autumn air. 

He couldn’t give you everything you deserved, he warned you. You’d be sneaking around in broad daylight, stealing kisses between classes. You wouldn’t—couldn’t—fully belong to each other. 

You’d agreed without hesitation. It wasn’t ideal, but it was everything. You could hardly imagine life without him now.

It was fast and intense and you’d be told it was wrong, but you were falling in love with Zayne. 

You loved the way he’d tease you with a straight face—the one that, looking back, you didn’t know how you were ever afraid of. The way he’d lend you his scarf on chillier days with the faintest of blushes coating his cheeks. The way he was the fairest bit biased: cold-calling on you, but only when he knew you knew the answer. Assigning group projects, but making sure you had a responsible classmate to rely on. Adding office hours before exams, just so he could tutor you. 

The way he made every effort to understand you. 

“Do you want to watch the sequel next time? The reviews are pretty bad, but I’m so hooked now! I have to know how it ends.” 

Afternoon sunlight streamed in through large windows, brightening the elegant furnishings in his living room. Your legs were laid atop his for the last act of the movie, and he’d gently massaged your calves while you’d watched with rapt attention. 

Noting his silence, you turned to face him. “Zayne?” 

He was looking at you—your body, rather—with a whirlpool of mourning in his eyes. “What are those?” 

Confused, you looked down. Only to feel a wave of nausea crash into you. 

Your sleeves had ridden up. 

The lines were faded, barely visible under normal circumstances. You hardly noticed them anymore when you stepped out of the shower. 

But today, they were betrayed by the sun. 

Panic pulsed inside you. “I’m sorry, I—You were never supposed to see. I was supposed to keep them covered, I’m so sorry.” Frantically tugging the fabric down, you swung your legs off his lap and raced across the room. Turning to mutter a hasty goodbye—the least you could do after ruining his weekend—you came face-to-face with a broad, heaving chest. You slowly lifted your gaze, and guilty hazel eyes—as if he were the one at fault—bore into yours. 

His voice trembled with an anxiety he never showed in the classroom. “I shouldn’t have said anything, I apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for—no need to leave, either. Please, stay with me.”

Wary and ready to bolt, you allowed him to see your unease. “You don’t have to do this, you know—act like it’s normal. I know it’s not. I’ve been told it’s not, more times than I can count. So you don’t have to coddle me. Just let me go.” For the night or forever, you didn’t dare clarify. That was for him to decide. 

“May I show you something?”

Bristling slightly, you nodded. 

And slowly, as if trying not to spook you any further, Zayne rolled his own sleeves up to his elbows, revealing the raised, uneven scars on his arms. 

A lump formed in your throat. Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. “You…?”

“No. Not that way, at least. I pulled someone from an accident when I was younger. Her windshield had completely shattered—nothing but broken shards in its place,” he said, running a finger over smoothed-over skin. “I hardly knew what I was doing back then. But they managed to save her, and suddenly these became a lesser matter.”

Swallowing thickly, you inched forward, raising a daring hand to hover over his left forearm. 

“If I hadn’t become a professor, I like to think I would’ve been a doctor. It feels meaningful to take care of people. I’d like to take care of you as well.”

His larger hand brought yours to his skin, and the jagged ridges of his purpose kissed your fingertips. 

Your agreement was automatic. 

Even taking care of you, Zayne made you bolder. He taught you not just in life, but in love as well. 

You kissed harder. For longer, too. And there were the strangest times when he looked at you like he was hungry. As if somewhere under that tender chivalry lay a deeper urge to devour. 

You’d never teased anyone before him. Never knew how, that you could, that it would even work. But you remembered in great detail how you'd splurged your savings on a short trip to the mall, possessed with the urge to surprise him with the shortest skirt you could find. The very next day, you’d worn it. And when you sauntered to your desk at the front of his class, spreading your legs just enough for him to see a wet patch darken the longer he lectured, he all but marched you to his office and stole your breath away against the door. 

Not long after, you gave him a gift: the title of being the first man inside you. A night of bitten lips and averted eyes and whispers of encouragement. His soft strokes, in and out, and dutiful pauses until the pain melted into pleasure. His patience as your tears of bliss and overwhelm dampened his cotton sheets. 

There were several repeat performances. But laid bare on his cool mahogany desktop, the muted chatter of your less fortunate peers drowning out your pleading moans, was your favorite. 

Every time, your only regret was the thin layer keeping him from claiming you fully. 

Despite it all, your brain still harshly reminded you that Zayne was the treatment, not the cure. You still had your fair share of rough patches—staying in bed, afraid to face the world, afraid to face the mirror—but with him only a secret message or clandestine phone call away, rough became manageable. Rough patches became yet another excuse to seek his attention and win his affection. 

Zayne was an ancient elixir coveted by warring factions, only to fall into your unsteady hands. He made bad days good and good days even better, and he’d made it his mission to give you some of your best.

Snow fell from his office window as you jittered in your seat. “What is it? What did you want to show me?”

“You always show remarkable restraint during our study sessions. I wonder where that went today,” he said, squinting at you from behind his desk. 

“Um, you called me onto campus the day grades are due. Either I’m a genius, or I’ve failed out of college entirely.”

His lips twitched. “The former is correct.” Tugging open a drawer, he brandished a mid-sized box stamped with the local bakery’s logo. “You scored the highest grade on my final exam, and in my class as a whole. I wanted to congratulate you.” 

Looking at you expectantly, he slid the box across the desk with a small smile. Grabbing it by its edges, you slowly raised the lid, and the warmth in your heart could have melted the ice outside. 

A colorful array of cupcakes, arranged to spell out Y-O-U D-I-D I-T, greeted you. The ninth was frosted with a big yellow smiley face. 

“Thank you,” you croaked. “For everything this semester, not just thi—”

“That’s not all,” he interrupted, a pink tinge spreading across his cheeks. 

While you were distracted, he’d pulled out a long velvet case. You barely had time to wonder before he cracked open the lid, revealing a delicate chain of intertwined snowflakes. 

“I truly meant what I said that day. It feels like fate that I met you.” He gently removed the bracelet from its box, and the crystals glinted in the overhead light. “You don’t have to accept it, but I hope you’ll consider it as a token of my feelings for you. Of how you make me feel.” 

Tears pricked the back of your eyes as you looked down and up again, as if this were all an intricate joke the world would reveal in an instant. 

You didn’t remember the last time you’d gotten a gift. 

And here you were, two in one day. 

Slowly, cautiously, you gave him your arm, not trusting yourself to speak until you’d swallowed down the lump in your throat. “I…It’s gorgeous. Where’d you get it?”

The clasp fit perfectly around your wrist. “I’m much more interested in its new owner.”

It was an admirably smooth evasion. But you pressed on. 

“Please?” you asked, lips settling into a pout. “It really is amazing.”

He gave in beautifully. “If you must know,” he sighed, reaching down and swiping a pad of frosting across your nose, “I ordered my 30th birthday cake from this bakery.”

Your frown deepened. “You know that’s not what I meant,” you grumbled, dotting his cheek in blue buttercream to return the favor. “But…you ordered the cake?”

He swallowed and nodded flatly. “Yes. The one faculty gift me every year doesn’t taste as good when there’s no sincerity behind it.”

Giggling softly, you took his hand. “Well, I would’ve gotten you one. Maybe I’ll order from there for my 22nd and give you half. I think I’m out of luck on the jewelry, though—this was probably half my scholarship payment,” you joked, dangling the bracelet with an awed gleam in your eye. “But maybe I can get you something too around graduation? A year and a half should be enough time to save the money, plus, my scholarship funds increase incrementally. By then, I should have some left over.” 

In your musings, you failed to notice the way his hand tensed. 

“Anyway, thank you, Zayne. I mean it—I don’t know where I’d be right now if it weren’t for you.” Grabbing two cupcakes, you circled around his desk and held one up to his lips. “To many more bakery orders,” you said, bending to kiss the frosting off his cheek. 

Chuckling, he leaned up to do the same to your nose. “To many more.” 

You should have noticed. It would have given you the chance to brace yourself. 

“Thank you for coming out with me today,” he said softly, his bicep brushing your shoulder as you strolled down the sidewalk. 

“What was I gonna do, say no?” You laughed. “Wasn’t exactly like I was going home for winter break.” 

Mounds of snow rose over the concrete, trapping your feet with each step. Your boots sloshed through sloping piles, and you held your arms out for balance.

“I suppose you have a point. But still, you accepted without hesitation. Thank you.”

You craned your neck to peek up at him. “I’ll never hesitate to spend the day with you.” 

The moment of distraction cost you. Slipping on a hard patch—ice disguised as snow, you realized all too late—you lost your footing and grabbed Zayne’s hand with a sudden squeal. He flinched, his rare inaction almost sending you tumbling to the ground, but tightened his grasp a second later. 

Sighing in relief, you shook your head fondly. He startled so easily.

Calming your racing heart, you pressed forward, continuing the familiar path to your favorite cafe. Once Zayne saw you were steady on your feet, he loosened his grip on your hand and returned his to his coat pocket. You bit your lip and shrugged. Your hands always were too cold. 

He held the pastel pink door for you as you stepped inside, and the homey scent of coffee put you at ease. 

“Order anything you like,” he said, his voice quiet behind your back. 

***

From the cozy nook Zayne had chosen at the back of the cafe, you sipped your drink and stared in wonder at the building storm. “It wasn’t supposed to do all this today.” You pouted. “It’ll be such a pain walking home.”

“Yes, it will.” His face was impassive—not in the usual way. It was somber, disengaged. As if he’d responded only out of pre-programmed courtesy. 

Deepening your frown, you set your cup on the table. “You seem a little off today—are you okay? If it’s because of the storm, we can leave early. I really don’t mind—”

“I’m not certain it’s in either of our best interests to keep seeing each other.”

In an instant, you felt like you’d stepped back outside.

Bitter cold consumed the warmth from the drink he’d bought you. 

“…What?”

“I said that it’s no longer in our best intere—”

“I heard what you said,” you snapped through the panic bubbling in your throat. “But…why? Did I do something wrong? Did I upset you?”

He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, and you never upset me.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” Trembling, you laid your wrist on the table and gestured tearily to your bracelet, its chain warm from your body heat. The crystals were as lustrous as they’d been when he’d gifted it to you—even you couldn’t do that much damage in a week. “What was this for? If you were just…if you didn’t…”

Your lungs felt like they were imploding. 

“You can keep it, of course. I want you to—it’s yours. Nothing will change that,” he said, leaning forward to touch your outstretched hand.

It was your turn to flinch. 

He blinked at the movement and retreated tactfully, as if it hadn’t happened at all. “In my office last week, you simply said something that I,” he paused, searching for the right phrase, “hadn’t properly considered before. An oversight of my own fault.” He pursed his lips before continuing. “You’re a wonderful student. A pleasure to have in my class, and a privilege to know like I’ve known you. But with only a year and a half until you graduate, and such a major scholarship at stake…you mustn’t lose that. I couldn’t live with myself if I were the cause of it.”

Your lip wobbled as you chased coherence. “But no one knows! No one has even suspected anything! I need you, Zayne. You can’t just—please, don’t.” 

Finally, his face softened. “The first day you came into my office, you told me nursing was your goal. That making others comfortable was your motivation. Every moment you spend with me endangers those wishes.” 

Your body seemed to shrink in your chair. Curling in on itself. 

“Your time and resources while enrolled here are precious. I was selfish enough to take those from you. But now, I’m returning them to where they belong.” 

He stood up. You looked down. 

“Please don’t make this hard on yourself. I only want to see you succeed. You’ll no longer be in my class next semester, so it should be easier for both of us.” 

Measured footsteps faded into nothing. When you raised your head, his figure had already vanished into the snow. 

You’d argued once—a close call. 

You’d surprised him with lunch in his office, and a dean came bursting in. Luckily, you’d finished early and held an open textbook in your trembling hands. 

“Oh my gosh, that was so scary! Do people usually just come waltzing in like that?” 

His face darkened as he stared at the door. “Only the impolite ones.” 

You bit your lip. “Maybe you should keep it locked.” 

His murky gaze turned on you. “Maybe. But perhaps this is also a sign to be more careful. It might be best for you to limit your visits to office hours.” 

Limit…?

You tensed in your chair. “Exams are coming up. I thought it’d be nice to spend more time together.” 

“It would be. Just not here—not as often, at least.” 

Something dormant coiled deep inside you, eager for the chance to strike. “Are you ashamed of me?” Your voice raised a half-step. 

“No. But I also don’t want to get caught.” 

When green eyes challenged yours, you excused yourself and headed home through wind-chilled tears. He apologized the next day, and you tried to move on. 

The pain back then was nothing compared to this. 

You’d messaged him once the storm had stopped. And the morning after, and the night and morning after until you couldn’t keep count anymore. Tossing and turning at 2 a.m. one night, you even sent him an email pretending to have a question about your final grade. 

Not once did you receive a response. 

You rang in the new year surrounded by blankets and closed blinds. 

You felt small. You felt unchecked. You felt like you might pick up an old habit. 

Utterly alone, you drifted away until mid-January. Classes were starting back up, and you trudged across campus for only one reason: maybe you’d get a glimpse of him. 

Bile rose in your throat when you did. 

His impressive figure, familiar but not, sat on a bench outside the student center. Beside him was a woman around his age, doubled over in laughter. 

When he caught your gaze, he looked back toward her. 

Unshed tears mixed with the frigid air and stung your eyes until they shut. 

You couldn’t hide away in his office anymore—you weren’t welcome there anymore. The library would have to do. 

As you cried in your hands on the very top floor, you were thankful the start-of-semester traffic was light. 

“You’re very bright,” he’d told you once. 

As his lips moved, you wondered what they’d feel like against yours. “Thanks,” you mumbled, feeling heat rise to your face, “but I don’t think so. I just work really hard.” 

“That’s true. But the sun doesn’t shine from hard work alone. It has innate qualities as well—ones that make it the brightest star in our sky.” 

Your cheeks had hurt from how much you smiled at him that day. 

But as your nails bit into the skin of your wrists, you’d never felt so dim. 

“We just received our largest wine shipment of the year. Would you all like to sample tonight?” the sommelier asked, her all-black suit seeming to absorb all the light in the restaurant. 

Curious eyes shifted to you. “I won’t be drinking,” Zayne refused with a shake of his head. “You?” 

“Me either. Thank you, though.” You gave the woman a shy smile, and she nodded her departure.

He gazed at you intently. “We’ve never discussed this before, but I don’t handle alcohol well.”

“I don’t handle it at all.” You shrugged. “Never have. It scares me.” 

It was fleeting, but you could see the relief flicker across his face. “I’m glad this isn’t a deal-breaker.”

“It’d be pretty hypocritical of me to bed my professor then decide him refusing to drink was my deal-breaker. I lo—like everything about you. So you’re good. Unless you disappear on me one day,” you finished with a nervous laugh. 

Or at least, you thought you did. But stumbling through the streets like this, it was hard to recall the specifics.

You’d left the bar sometime after midnight, you guessed. You hadn’t thought to check your phone. When you left the library, you weren’t thinking much of anything, other than it hurts so much. 

A shivering stray dog, lip curled and ears flat, passed you, and you almost thought to provoke it further. Maybe it’d be better at getting the job done than you had been.

You’d been walking for…a while. Much longer than the 10-minute trip back to your car. Unfamiliar shops surrounded you on all sides. Streetlights became fewer and fewer. You thought you heard low voices laughing at you, but you couldn’t pinpoint where. 

You wouldn’t blame them. You must have looked silly right now, lurching around in disheveled clothes in the dead of night. 

Teeth chattering, you wrapped your flimsy jacket tighter around you. 

Maybe you should’ve been embarrassed. Self-conscious. At least the slightest bit interested in self-preservation.

But all you could feel was the buzz in your brain, getting louder and louder and louder. 

At least…you thought it was your brain? Brains weren’t supposed to buzz, were they? 

Brains don't buzz—bees do, silly. 

Let's call Zayne. Zayne would know. 

He was the reason you got into this mess, anyway. 

His number still sat at the top of your history. There was no one to take his place. 

One ring. Two more. A crackle, static. 

“Hello?”

You chuckled, raspy and untamed, into the speaker. “Can’t believe you actually picked up.”

“You never call without asking first. Is something the matter?”

You snorted, and a cackle bubbled out of you. The breath became mist in the crisp winter air. “You talk old.” 

“…I beg your pardon?” 

“You talk old. Like you’re old. I used to think it was cute. Used to…”

His sigh was audible over the late night traffic. “Is something wrong, then?”

“There we go,” you cheered sardonically. “Finally speaking my language. A lot’s wrong! It’s so dark out here I can barely see where I’m going.” Frustrated, you stopped your pacing and stood outside a dingy storefront. 

“You’re not answering me. Why did you call? Are you alright?”

“No. I called because my head hwurts.” Your words began to slur. “And ’s your fault…so you need to tell me what’s wrong with it. What’s wrong with me.” 

A beat of silence.

“…Are you drunk?” Something like betrayal crept into his voice. And in that one moment, it felt good to hurt him back. 

“How couldn’t I be?” Your own voice wobbled in angry desolation. A sickening heat emanated from the chain you couldn’t bring yourself to retire. “When you got me this bracelet, I was so happy,” you hiccuped. “You made me happy. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d gotten a gift. And now…di’you get her one, too? Did you fuck her? Have you fucked already? If you have, you might as well tell me now while there are still cars in the street.” 

A gray-haired woman hobbled by, looking at you like you were the strange one. You weren’t. It was him, it was all him, it was—

“I’m coming to get you. Share your location with me.”

You snapped back to the present. “No. No, I don’t need you to. I don't want you to. I parked…somewhere…around here, and I’ll keep going ‘til I find it. I don’t need you,” you huffed, staggering over the sloping sidewalk. 

“You’re endangering yourself. Don’t—”

“I’ll drive back on my own. Not like you care, anyway. I shouldn’t have called.”

A shuddering exhale came over the line. 

“Send me your location. Now.”

His tone was glacial, almost sobering. He’d never used it with you, not even on that first day in his office. Your steps faltered. 

“Now,” he repeated. 

For a moment, your right mind made its return from vacation. “…Fine.”

“Go to a well-lit area and wait for me there.” 

***

Twenty minutes later, a sleek black Audi screeched to a halt in front of you. The door was thrust open and closed with a foreboding slam, but you couldn’t be bothered to notice.

He came.

He stormed to your side with wild eyes and tousled hair, as if he’d run his fingers through it the whole way here. Wobbling on your feet, you reached out to fix it, but his firm hand clamped around your outstretched arm. 

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

“Then get in the car.” 

Get in the car. All this because of him, and all he had was get in the car. 

Scowling, you whipped away from him and started back down the sidewalk, shuffling past the streetlight you’d only stood under because you thought he cared. 

You didn’t make it two steps before strong arms wrapped around your legs, swinging you up and hauling you over an achingly familiar body. 

Immediately, you beat on his back, your fists thudding against lean muscles. “Put me down! You think you can just—put me down!”

Wordlessly, he tightened his grip and forced his way back to his waiting car, depositing you with what ceremony he could into the passenger’s seat. “Put your seatbelt on. I won’t tell you twice.” 

You woke with a foreign headache in a familiar bed. 

You never thought you’d be here again.

Blackout curtains blocked the windows, but something in you knew it was morning. Pills and a full glass of water, no accompanying note, waited for you on Zayne’s gray nightstand. 

You closed your eyes in a grimace the second you sat up. You could feel your brain bouncing around like a pinball.

You’d taken more than enough pills in your lifetime, but you’d always hated swallowing them. The water helped. The glass was empty in less than a minute. 

Slipping out of bed, you tried to put the muddled pieces of yesterday together. Seeing Zayne. The library. The bar. Seeing Zayne again, both of you much angrier the second time. 

You winced. 

Padding down the stairs, you scanned the house on high alert, looking out for any signs of a confrontation you weren’t ready to finish. 

When you reached the bottom still in one piece, you almost darted out the front door. But the nagging voice in the back of your throbbing mind couldn’t end things like this.

You found him in the kitchen, sipping tea and grimly flipping through a stack of papers. 

Your voice caught in your throat, coming out a cracked whisper. “Good morning.”

Hazel eyes…stayed on the documents in his hand.

You shuffled forward. “I wanted to thank you. For last night. You didn’t have to do that.”

His jaw ticked. 

“And I wanted to say I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have called, I just…wasn’t thinking straight,” you mumbled. “I’ll get going now.”

Just as you turned, an incredulous scoff resounded. 

“Yesterday evening, I went home from an on-campus meeting with my married colleague, only to be woken up at one in the morning to rescue my spiraling former student.” Cold fury laced his voice.

Married colleague. Of course she was. 

Your mouth filled with bitterness, reminiscent of last night’s drinks. You shifted on your feet. “How was I supposed to know? What was I supposed to think?”

“You were supposed to think that who I speak with no longer concerns you. And then you were supposed to go on about your night, just as I would have.”

Recoiling at his frankness, you took a step back. “Zayne, I’m sorry—”

“You’re sorry,” he interrupted, swiping a hand down his tired face. “You keep saying that. But are you merely sorry for calling, or for anything else that happened last night? Do you have any recollection of what you said to me?” he continued, tone sharp and scathing.  

Silent and scrambling for memories, you stood before him. 

“I offered to come get you the moment I realized you were drunk and alone. And you refused me. You were adamant that you didn’t want or need me. And when I asked again, you said you would rather drive yourself home than accept my help. That I wouldn’t care if something happened to you on the way.” He was advancing on you now, his much larger shadow engulfing yours on the adjacent wall. 

“I was upset, Zayne. I am still upset, I have a right to be upset. You…you just left me, like it didn’t even matter, like I was never anything—”

“I tried to put your future first, and you threatened me with your life.” 

The words brought your frantic gestures to an abrupt halt. With just one sentence, he’d knocked the air out of you. And when he rolled his sleeves up, you knew he wasn’t done.

“I told you I got these when I pulled a woman from a wreck,” he started, twisting his arms to show the raised scars. “Would you like to guess what happened to her that night?”

Suddenly feeling small, you shook your head. 

“She was hit by a drunk driver.”

You vaguely remembered the way your heart soared when his car pulled up last night. Now, it plummeted to your feet. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, your pounding head drooping all on its own. “I just wanted you to come.” 

“You got your wish. Congratulations.” 

“Zayne—”

“I thought many things of you the last several months,” he seethed, sharp eyes boring into you as if seeing you for the first time. “But I never took you for a child.” 

A whimper escaped before you could stop it. You reached out for him, but he had already pulled back. 

“Your things are by the door.” 

The holiday lights at the ice skating rink were overstaying their welcome. 

Alternating intermittently, they painted the ice in blues and reds, projecting dancing patterns of snowflakes under the frenzied feet of happy skaters. 

Couples and families glided by, their raucous laughter and shrieks of excitement echoing in the chilly air. They lost their balance, at times, but they always had someone to catch them before they toppled to the ground.

For a tranquil, transient period, so unrecoverable now that it seemed like another life, you’d had that, too. 

But tonight, from your place in the stands, their unbridled joy felt like salt in the wound. 

“I’d like to take you somewhere.” 

You knew him well enough by now to hear the breathy nervousness in his voice. You squinted at him, playfully quizzical, from the passenger’s seat. “‘Somewhere’ as in your office? Or is the ever-careful Dr. Li actually proposing we go out in…public?” you gasped dramatically, placing a hand over your heart. 

He tapped two fingers on the steering wheel and shook his head, trying to suppress the smile threatening his composure. “It would be the latter. Unless you’re eager to stare at the same four walls and stacks of textbooks again, in which case I’m happy to oblige.”

Warm anticipation bloomed in your chest, and you beamed, draping your hand over his thigh. “Nope! Public is good. Public is great.” 

***

“Please, please, please don’t let go,” you begged, wobbling in your skates like a newborn foal. 

On the ice beside you, Zayne wasn’t doing too much better. His stronger legs kept him upright, at least, but he rarely moved more than a foot before freezing in place. 

His hand fell from your wrist to the small of your back, protectively tucking you into his side. “Why don’t we try it like this for a while? A few forward strokes might make us comfortable.”

You nodded resolutely.

And barely made it one before your legs slipped out from under you, sending you crashing into already outstretched arms. 

“…Why don’t we take a break,” you mumbled into his coat, clinging to him like your life depended on it. 

Laughing quietly, he tightened his grip and nuzzled your hair. “That works for me. The question is…how to make it back to the stands in one piece.” 

***

After 15 minutes and a collision with a maliciously uncooperative sheet of ice, you finally returned to the bleachers, sweating and giggling from the adventure. 

Cheeks flushed bright red, Zayne ushered you onto a bench at the top before turning to you. His eyes sparkled with mirth and uncharacteristic innocence. “It was much more eventful than my office,” he joked. 

“Not always,” you sang mischievously, and he cleared his throat as his blush deepened. “I have been wondering, though,” you continued, looking out into the sea of much more successful skaters, “you…are usually good at everything, Zayne. Why did you choose this tonight?”

His answer was immediate, as if it’d been sitting on the tip of his tongue. “You alleviate the pressure I feel to be good at everything. And you make me bolder, for better or worse,” he chuckled. “The years of my life that I missed due to my studies…I rediscover them when I’m with you.” 

You closed your eyes to try to stop them from watering and leaned in to kiss his cheek. Then, you lowered your head onto his shoulder. 

“My parents brought me here once,” he continued. “It was a happy memory. Perhaps I also wanted to extend it with you.”

Unable to suppress it, you tensed against him. “Are you close with them?”

“Fairly. We go out for dinner twice a month.” Caution crept into his tone. “And you?”

Somber notes shifted the atmosphere. 

“My parents don’t like me very much. Haven’t since I was in middle school. I think they got tired of paying to keep me alive,” you tried to joke, but it understandably fell flat. 

Grunting softly, Zayne tightened his arm around your waist. 

“I felt like an intruder in the house I was raised in. Always just there, but never welcome,” you mumbled, fiddling with one of his coat buttons. “It’s why I tried so hard to get here. I had to get out, but I knew they wouldn’t give me any more than they already had. So I did it myself.” 

Zayne had begun rubbing circles on your back. “How do you feel when you think about them?” 

“I used to feel guilty. And confused. Like it was my fault, like I wasn’t worth the energy. It only made things—me—worse, for a while. But then, once I found something to distract me, to keep me going…I just accepted it.” Rubbing at your sleeves, you sighed. “That’s only for them, though. I still get…sensitive when people leave. Decide to stop trying.” 

Pulling you close, he placed a gentle kiss on your hair. “I’ll always try for you.” 

Wet snow stained the streets outside. 

It'd been two weeks since he’d turned you away. Two weeks of skipping classes to sit here, staring, watching, but never doing. Two weeks of happy memories fading into forgotten dreams. 

You always looked through the windows when it got too much. That, and fiddled with the tennis bracelet it seemed like a curse to remove. If you did, it would all be too final. And you didn’t know when, if ever, you’d be able to accept that.

You felt silly, sometimes, being unable to let him go. Like a naive movie character, desperate and dramatic, that you would have ridiculed not even a year ago. But back then, all alone, you didn’t know how damning it could be to care for someone. To wake up in the morning, wondering what they’d do that day. How they’d make you mean something. 

You’d come to accept that Zayne’s interest meant worth to you. You hadn’t become reacquainted with worthlessness. 

You scratched and clawed at its advancing jaws, fighting with every breath to keep its venom from immobilizing you once more. To stay on the path you carved for yourself, undeterred by his hatred and your relapsing brain. 

But every day, you strayed farther and farther. 

Cold air swept behind and then beside you. You didn’t trust yourself to look. 

“I trust this isn’t a new hobby of yours.” 

Dry humor. You didn’t encourage it.

He tried again. “I didn’t think you’d ever come back here after your meet-and-greet with the ice.” 

This time, the jab was too hard to resist. “And I didn't think you'd remember where our first date was.” 

In the corner of your eye, he grimaced. “That’s hardly fair.”

“Maybe. But it’s honest. Since we’re being that, now.” Bracing your hands on your thighs, you stood up to leave. Before you could start down the stairs, he caught your arm. 

“I didn’t mean to say it so harshly.”

“But you still meant to say it.” 

His Adam’s apple bobbed in the silence. 

“Why are you even here, Zayne?”

He pulled you down with gentle strength. With a scowl, you obliged, putting distance between your estranged bodies. 

“I come here to think sometimes,” he murmured. “It helps to be surrounded by pleasant memories.” 

“It’s nice that that’s still what they are for you.”

He sighed and turned to face you fully. Dark circles outlined dull green eyes, but satisfaction took the place of concern. He had them, too. 

“Somehow, call it instinct, I was hoping I’d find you here. I wanted to apologize for that night.” The sound of a scraping skate was a welcome distraction from his intent stare. 

“When I tried to do that, you didn’t take it very well.”

His lips tugged downward. “I know. And I regret that, especially when you were vulnerable. But when you almost hung up, I just…I saw another version of that accident. But instead of that woman, it was you in the car. Because of me.”

Swallowing thickly, you fiddled with your fingers. Unfortunately, you’d long gotten used to the chain on your wrist, and it caught his gaze before you remembered to conceal it. His face softened. 

“I was very worried about you that night,” he whispered, hesitantly tracing the crystal snowflakes. “And as someone who’d never had anyone to worry for, I veered out of line.” 

You drew your knees up to your chest, placing the soles of your boots in the space between you. “You think I’m immature.” 

“I think you’re young. And I think I’d forgotten that, because you make me feel young, too.” 

“Except when you’re rescuing your former student.”

He winced. “Except then.”

“It isn’t just that night, you know,” you whispered, slotting your chin between raised knees. “You left. You knew what it would do to me, you knew I couldn’t handle it—and you left anyway.”

“I had your best interests at heart.”

“How do you think that turned out.” A statement, not a question.

Inching forward with a heavy sigh, he gently lowered your knees and took your hand. You let him. 

“It’d tear both of us apart if you lost everything because of me. You don’t deserve for that to happen. Not when you’re so close to your hard work paying off.” He rubbed soothing circles into your palm. “I care for you. Deeply. You’ve shown me so many things, given me so many firsts. But I won’t be the reason your goals become fantasies.”

His free hand lifted to cup your cheek, and you nuzzled it instinctively. 

“What happened that night…in the future, you must not do that again. You must not jeopardize your life again.” 

You stared, quiet. 

“Do you understand me?” 

You nodded. 

“May I kiss you?”

You nodded again. 

His lips were as warm and soft as the very first time. He captured yours tenderly, timidly, as if his touch were molten. 

You threaded trembling fingers in his hair, and Zayne pulled back. 

Your flinch was pronounced. Your heart was teetering. You were sure your eyes were glassy. 

Before you could speak or move or run, he surged forward once again. He spoke to you between urgent kisses. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “It’s alright.” 

Glistening lips slid against yours, branding your mouth with their rising heat. He was firmer with you now. You liked it. It let you know he was still here. 

By the time you separated, the snow had stopped. Remnants of evening sunlight warmed the forest in his eyes. 

Things got better after the ice rink. 

You returned to your classes, apologizing for your absences and begging for extensions on missed assignments. All but one of your professors agreed. But you’d figure it out. Get back on track.

You had to, if Zayne’s encouragement was anything to go by. 

You got the briefest of texts and calls from him. Asking how you were doing, how classes were going, if he could share any resources with you. As if you really were just a former student. 

But every time, despite the apprehension and longing burning in your gut, you answered him. Returned his questions. Kept him talking for as long as he’d entertain you. Because the barest bit of him made all the difference in your day. 

It wasn’t the same—wasn’t anywhere close. But it gave you the will, the motivation, the purpose, to hold out a little longer. 

He’d said that he cared for you. That everything, even the worst of it, had been in your best interest. To give you a chance to grow without him. 

And it filled you with the most dangerous feeling, the most treacherous hope, that he’d come back to you if you could prove you could. 

You felt like life was a little more in your grasp. Like if he was okay with you, maybe you would be, too. 

Even the late winter cold wasn’t as bitter when you were in his orbit. 

You’d been walking lately. Something your doctors had always suggested, but you’d never taken them up on. It all came back to that night, incidentally. You remembered how freeing it’d been to choose your own direction, even when your brain wasn’t yours and your reins were held tight by an invisible hand. 

You’d just returned from an evening stroll around your neighborhood, freshly showered and in your nightclothes, when a curt knock sounded on your apartment door. 

Only one person you knew knocked like that. Only one person would be visiting you at all. 

Sure enough, that deceitfully detached expression greeted you when you opened the door, and you felt your stomach do a somersault. 

For everything you’d been through, for everything you’d done together, Zayne had never been to your apartment before. He always said it’d be crossing a line you could never fall back from—as if he hadn’t already crossed your lines and curves in all their entirety. 

What did it mean that he was here now? Did he miss you as much as you missed him? Need you as much as you needed him? Did he want to talk, or do something more? 

And how long would he stay? 

Stay. Stay. The word sprung you into action. 

“Um, hi,” you squeaked, voice startled and a little too loud. “Sorry, I just got back from a walk. I guess I should’ve put on something nicer.” 

“There was no need. I didn’t exactly give you notice.” His lips curled in an almost-smile. 

You swallowed. “Can I get you anything? A drink? It’s not much, but I have tea, and I think I have some leftover macarons, too. But they were out of the flavor you like,” you added quickly. “So maybe you don’t want them?” 

Zayne, usually amused by your nervous ramblings, only observed you quietly, his face a mask of stone. 

You knew that look. You’d seen it once before. 

Wordlessly, you stepped aside. 

He towered over your tiny space. 

You wrung your hands as your gaze dropped to the floor. As if by some miracle, you’d dissuade him from speaking, and the storm cloud he’d brought with him would pass over you harmlessly. The delicate chain on your wrist burned in warning. 

“I’ve been granted a transfer to another campus.”

His storm cloud doused you in ice water. In perfect contrast to the scalding metal against your skin. 

“I wanted to tell you in person. The university press is dropping the story tomorrow morning,” he continued quietly. “When I made the request, I listed the reason as a desire to explore new research opportunities. So you have nothing to worry about.” 

The ringing in your ears drowned out the tail end of his words. Your whole body pulsed with the need to escape it. 

Your brain spun with questions. Your heart ached, knowing he’d never fully answer them. 

“When did…” you tried to ask, voice failing to reach more than a whisper. “When did you make the request?”

“After I carried you to my bed that night. I signed the papers the morning after.”

“That was over a month ago. I…I thought we’d gotten better since then, I thought we were okay now. If it was all the way before…” You paused, trying to force the oxygen back into your lungs. “Do you at least regret it? Can you reverse it?”

The downward twitch of his lips betrayed only a hint of pity. He shook his head. “I don’t. And even if I could, I wouldn’t.” 

The whimper escaped before you could stop it, and your eyes stung as if pricked by thousands of needles. He took one hesitant step forward, but you could barely see it through your blurred vision. 

You shook your head, frantic, desperate, and pressed your hands to your mouth. “Why do you keep doing this to me? What’s wrong with me to make you keep—you kissed me. You kissed me and you told me you cared and I believed you, when you knew you would leave again.” Your voice was a garbled cry. “You made me promise when you knew you would leave again.” 

He was in front of you now, no more than a foot away. Troubled eyes roved over your figure, but flexing hands stayed at his sides. “I thought it would help you. That it might give you some peace, if I could offer you the last of myself.” 

You shook your head, stronger now, as if wishing this version of him away. “You can’t do this to me again—you can’t. I thought things were better—they were better, you made them better.” You grasped at words and memories, searching for something, anything, that might make him stay. Even if guilt was the only reason, it was reason enough. “You know what happened the last time.” 

You heard him approaching before you felt a cautious hand on your shoulder. “I understand that I hurt you—more than I ever had the right to. But when you risked yourself that night, I understood something else. Your safety and future are my highest priority. Those are uncertain as long as I’m near you.” 

His words held a nauseating finality, and you felt your lifeline slip out of your hands. 

A deep breath gave you the chance to respond. “So is that it, then? You come here to warn me and tell me goodbye, and then what? You just walk out, forget everything? If that’s a power you can learn, teach me one more thing before you go.” 

His hand shifted as he flinched. He swallowed. “I didn’t make this decision lightly. Nor have I ever overstated my affection for you. I could never forget you,” he murmured. Suddenly, he flushed soft pink. “But I wasn’t planning on leaving this way. Unless you’d like for me to.” 

You had no more energy to navigate the labyrinth of him. “What do you mean?” 

He looked to his feet. “I said that I wanted to offer you what I could of myself. I feel as though I owe it to you, to make your last experience with me a pleasurable one.” 

The implication made your heart stop. 

Was that how he saw himself? Was that what he thought of you? That he’d maxed his tab with the ways he’d hurt you, and now you’d charge him with interest? 

Was everything always so transactional?

Shame seared your insides. But even worse was the disgust that settled on you like a second skin—not at Zayne, but at yourself.

Because you knew your answer. 

You could never turn down a chance to be close to him. 

Your constricted throat opened enough for one single, damning word to escape.

“Okay.”

***

He’d been so gentle at the ice rink. Maybe that was the kind of restraint he showed when he was trying to keep a secret. 

But now, his lips claimed yours as if trying to atone for one. 

They were soft, slightly chapped from the dry air, and moving against you with the greed of a nation nearing famine. He suckled your bottom lip with an eager pull and a swipe of his tongue, letting it bounce briefly away before capturing it again. Each time you parted, he redoubled his efforts, meeting every corner of your lips with the hot suction of his mouth until they, too, were angry at him. 

You were no less urgent than he was. Where he pressed down, you surged up, trying to meld your mouth with his so he could see how well you fit together. You licked into him to savor his taste, sweet and floral, and caught his exploring tongue with yours when it got in your way. He surrendered immediately, let you invade him as you pleased, while he raked his fingers through your hair. 

As he hovered above you, frame almost too large for your full bed, he bent his legs to make himself smaller. Always compensating, always adjusting—in only the way he thought best. 

Sliding between your torsos, your hand stopped its journey at the center of his slacks, petting and cupping to make him come to life. His body obeyed when you left his lips to scatter hot, open-mouthed kisses on the side of his neck, biting down to threaten his quickening pulse. 

He grunted and bucked his thickening bulge while your lips soothed the sting, only to renew it again and again, trailing transient marks over transient skin. But he accepted his punishment with pleasure. 

His neck was adorned with purpling bruises that looked like they belonged there. Long past his departure, he’d think of you when he saw himself. A fitting curse, given the reverse was your normal. 

When you unlatched yourself to catch your breath, he took advantage of his newfound freedom, placating you with a brief peck before traveling his hand down your waist, squeezing at your hip and slipping underneath your shirt. He splayed his warm palm over your belly, rubbing up and down with unearned possession, and you mewled at the friction of his skin on yours. Diving forward to swallow the sound, he moved his hand up to cup your tender breast, completely bare under your oversized sweatshirt. 

A heavy breath escaped him at the contact, and before you knew it, he’d tugged off the fabric and returned his hands to the refuge of your chest. 

“I love these,” he’d whispered the first time he’d seen them, palming your rounded flesh with something like awe in his voice. “You’re absolutely breathtaking.” 

His eyes now held the same infatuation, and you could see the shared memory swirling within. 

Your chest heaved in mutinous anticipation, and the steady swells of your breasts drew him in like a lure. He bowed his head with the urgency of the night, and the hot lash of his tongue against your pebbled nipple made you anchor your fingers in his raven hair. What he couldn’t take in his mouth, he fondled with the same fervor, pinching and twisting your opposite peak with deliciously torturous movements. 

As his mouth opened and closed and switched from one to the other, he rolled his hips into the bed with barely bridled desperation. Each brush of his thigh made your core pulse with desire, and you matched his thrusts instinctually, slotting your clothed heat against his, quietly communicating your need. 

He released you with clear reluctance, pressing a kiss to the valley of your chest before obliging dutifully. You could almost feel his heartbeat in his hands as they inched back down your waist, lower and lower, until they brushed the waistband of your cotton panties. 

Breathing heavily, he hovered his fingers over the hem, the heavy weight of greedy hands replaced by a feather-light touch. 

He paused, eyes suddenly clouded with what you could only hope was guilt. “Are you sure?”

You weren’t sure of anything anymore. 

Faded lines on your forearms twisted as you moved. Wordlessly, you guided his hand down and under. 

You shared a gasp as two fingers traced your slick folds, and another when they pressed into your quivering heat. 

“I’m scared,” you confessed, clinging to him as you entrusted someone with your naked body for the first time. Arousal seeped out of you, coating the tops of your thighs, but you weren’t sure how the length of him would fit inside you without pain.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, pressing a tender kiss to your temple. “We’ll make sure you’re ready.”

Your belly clenched instinctively as his fingers pumped and curled inside you. As if they’d memorized your deepest parts, as if they belonged there. He spread and shut them, pushing and prodding your flexing walls, and your crooning moans filled the heated air. 

When your legs began to shake, he quickened his pace, twisting and bending his fingers like his pleasure was tied to yours. At the same time, he rubbed his thumb against your twitching bud, circling around and pressing down. The joint sensations had you unraveling around him, panting as your hips bucked against his continued pumps. 

He pulled his hand away once you began to mewl and watched his fingers glisten under the lamplight. “I never got the chance to do this,” he murmured. Casting a dazed glance at your trembling form, he slowly, sinfully, sucked his stained digits into his mouth. He moaned just as his eyes fluttered closed, and his cheeks swelled with gentle, savoring swirls of his tongue. 

A throb in your core sent your remaining release pooling onto the sheets. A pang rattled your heart, knowing someone so perfect wasn’t willing to wait for you.

Simmering with grief and outrage, you yanked his hand out of his mouth and stuffed it in yours, wanting to know everything he knew. To feel everything he felt. 

His eyes widened with shock and immediately narrowed. Looming over you, he ripped his fingers from your mouth and replaced them with his lips, your clashing tongues exchanging your mixed taste. 

As he lowered himself on top of you, you slid your hands down his torso and fiddled wildly with his belt, your mind muddled from his searing kiss. 

Taking your lower lip between his teeth, he released it with a nip of admonishment and sat up over you, his knees placed on either side of your hips. His chest trembled with ragged breaths, and the collar of his sweater had sagged to reveal your marks tattooing his skin. He’d be beautiful, but beautiful things didn’t betray. 

His thighs flexed around you as he swiftly pulled his sweater off, his biceps rippling with the movement. Next came his belt, which he discarded on the carpet with a gentle thud. 

Slowly, deliberately, he eased off the bed, keeping dilated eyes on you throughout. 

You couldn’t keep his gaze. 

The first time, you’d avoided his careful, intent stare out of shyness. Now, it was shame that burned behind your eyelids.  

Fabric fell to the floor. Crinkling foil faded into silent concentration. The mattress dipped. 

“Do you want to continu—”

“Do it.” The words were muffled—your throat was closing up again. You gritted your teeth. “Do it.” 

“We can stop here if—”

You reached out wildly and caught his arm, forcing him flush against you. “Make me remember.” 

When his first stroke brushed your furthest depths, stars exploded across your vision. 

He pressed into you as if trying to leave an imprint, steady and powerful and pulsing with need. You wrapped your legs around him through shaky breaths, bringing him closer, relishing the feel of his hips against yours. 

Your breaths mingled as you forced yourself to look into his eyes, not quite sure what you were searching for, but bristling at what you found: composure. Control. Dominance. The traits you’d never had, but admired in him. 

The ones that let him leave you. 

Grunting in frustration—at him, at yourself, at the world you never asked to be in—you pushed at his chest, shifting your momentum to roll him onto his back. You clenched your core as you mounted him, refusing to let his twitching tip fall from your warmth. 

He let you take him with wobbly bounces, cooing up at you while you sneered down at him. “Take what you need from me. Whatever you need.” 

With every shaky rise and fall, every clench of your core on his swollen length, you tried to. But when you looked at him, calm and encouraging and so terribly not yours, teardrops clouded your vision. One by one, they splashed onto his red-tinged skin. 

Your movements slowed. You collapsed onto him, cradling his head in your hands, and sobbed into his chest. 

The raised lines of his scars branded your skin as he wrapped his arms around you, held you close, and took over from underneath. He raised his hips with slow, lasting thrusts, your tightening walls still responding to him despite it all. 

You were too focused on his heavy heartbeat to notice the way you clamped around him, trying to drain him for all he had. And when his hips stuttered and he spilled into something so cruelly not you, you grew too numb to care. 

Tears darkened the marks on his neck as he held you, turning reddish purple to indigo. 

The proof that you’d known him was the last thing you saw that night. His gentle whisper in your ear was the last thing you heard.

“You’ll be better off this way.” 

When you woke, the bed was cold.

"And you didn't tell anyone while this was going on?"

Your cheeks, sunken and hollow, lifted slightly as you answered. "No one to tell."

A muffled cough. Another approach. “It’s been…a while since we’ve seen you here. We hoped it would stop once you moved out of your parents’ house. Why did you try again?” 

“I thought he would come.” 

Silence. 

Your eyes settled on the far wall of the sparsely furnished room. 

"Well, it’s…remarkable that you're still on track to graduate on time—despite the circumstances, of course. You’ll make a wonderful nurse.” 

"He wanted me to."

Your gown fluttered in the late spring wind. 

You barely noticed. Your heart was heavy. 

A brilliant stage stood before you, balloons and streamers lining the wooden steps. 

To your left, rows and rows of filled seats. 

The girls behind you fretted over their faces, hoping their caps hadn’t smudged their makeup. 

You hadn’t looked in the mirror before you left. You’d been running late, and you weren’t sure you wanted to see what’d become of you, anyway. 

It was fine. You were alone here. 

A part of you thought he’d be here. That if you wished hard enough, if you tried hard enough, if you thought hard enough, he’d feel you. See you. Come back. 

But jet black hair and hazel eyes were missing in the crowd. 

Zayne had cradled your heart in his scarred hands and laid it to rest. 

He’d hoped you would make it here, and you’d give him that, at least. 

But it was what you’d do later, surrounded by the soft embrace of the bed he’d once taken you in, that made you feel at ease. 

You felt the chain around your wrist and smiled wistfully. Pharaohs were buried with their treasures, after all. 

The procession moved forward. Every step was a memory discarded by its co-creator.

A first kiss in a quiet room. Stairs creaking under your weight. 

Scars that looked like yours. Stinging behind your eyes. 

Teardrops splashing on heated skin. Your name, clear and monotone. 

An unwilling return to a hospital bed. Subdued, polite applause. 

It feels like fate that I met you.

The bestowal of a scroll, a brisk handshake. A tight, transactional smile. 

“Congratulations.” 

[allisluv]

so glad you asked my mind is brimming.

finnick and reunion sex (like after he comes back from the mission after being presumed dead)

reunion.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!wife!reader

content warnings: smut, fingering, oral (fem recieving)

summary: reuniting with your husband has never been sweeter.

authors note: i currently have a really long finnick o'dair smut that im working on so i hope you dont mind that this ones shorter <3 also this is my first time writing smut so please be nice or ill cry 😍 also i imagined this was set after the mission but i didnt specify im sorry </3

Despite the bitter cold in District Thirteen, Finnick emerges from the shower wearing nothing but a pair of baggy grey sweatpants. You're drying the ends of your hair with a towel when he comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist.

Almost on an instinct, your head tilts backwards, giving him access to your neck. He obliges without a word, pressing kisses to the skin of your throat. "Finnick," you sigh, eyes fluttering closed.

"Tell me what you need, honey," Finnick runs his hands up and down your arms. His fingers leave a trail of warmth in their wake as he dips lower and lower, knowing full well that you won't be able to focus on anything other than him. "Come on baby. Just tell me and I'll give you what you want."

You have to push the words past your lips. "Don't make me beg," you whine, squeezing your thighs together. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, making a tsk sound that tells you he expects a better answer than that. "Please, Finn. Need you."

He rewards you by grabbing hold of your hand and leading you to the double bed. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it baby?" He pretends not to see you roll your eyes. "Gonna make you feel good, I promise."

You lie down and prop yourself up on your elbows so that you can see what he's doing. He hovers over you and presses his lips flush against yours, deepening the kiss by slipping his tongue into your mouth.

He swallows your whines and moans as his cold fingertips tease your slit. "Gotta get you ready for me, honey. Is this okay?" You nod. "Need to hear you use your words, sweet girl."

"Its okay. Please," you whine, bucking your hips into the air, desperate for some friction that never comes. He kisses you again when he slips his ring finger into your folds. "Fuck!"

"You're doing so well for me, baby," he kisses his way down your body before working his way towards your clit, tongue brushing over your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your hips buck and his free hand flies out to hold you down.

"Gotta stay still for me honey. I know, you're being so good for me. Ya getting close?" His eyes are blown wide with lust as he goes back to devouring your pussy. "I know you are, can feel you tightening around my fingers."

The coil in your stomach begins to tighten as you blindly reach for his hand. Finnick intertwines your fingers as you topple over the edge, calling his name like a prayer.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

Lifeline

pairing: Matt Murdock x fem!reader 

summary: When Matt starts to shut down, your stubbornness saves him.

warnings: swearing, angst, panic attack description, pining buffoons, pre-relationship, Matt's mental illness and fear of abandonment

a/n: This is a short birthday fic for the wonderful @abucketofweird who wanted a fic similar to Renegade with Best Friends to Lovers. I hope you enjoy, my dear! 🥳🥰❤️

I know it's short and pre-relationship but there is plenty of angsty Matt! (Also, yes she calls him a million nicknames, but they're not ~explicitly~ together in this). Please let me know if y'all are tired of seeing me write crying!angsty!Matt because I know I write that a lot.

w/c: ~4k

Matt could still remember the day that the Devil had first emerged. It was before his accident, after witnessing a group of teens bully his elementary school classmate on her way home from school. Years of seeing his dad throw hits and his own unwavering moral compass had forged a new being within his own; his rage overtaking his consciousness, forming shaky fists and a flower across his face. 

At the time, he hadn’t known how to fight properly and had gotten his ass kicked. A few decades had passed and, though his ability had grown, his rage had stayed the same. 

Fury was a useful tool, most of the time. Allowing him to push through discomfort and injury until he’d taken down whatever evildoer he’d gone after that day. It was his wrath that kept him going, but it was also his biggest inhibition. 

The desire to beat powerful criminals bloody was overpowering. His gut boiled with anger anytime he heard someone crying for help, knowing that, more than likely, the only thing sparing them from that cruel fate was him—a blind Catholic with a chip on his shoulder and lacking self preservation skills. 

It was his rage that caused tunnel vision. Which in turn caused sleep deprivation, which led to more injuries. The cycle didn’t end there though, at least not recently. His tendency to prioritize his alter ego over his own health wasn’t something that could be solved by a simple nap these days. Not when he had people worrying about him, and when his efforts to meditate or find another outlet for his emotions remained futile. 

More injuries meant it was more difficult to hide them. A bullet wound in his stomach, a sprained ankle, these were more noticeable to his coworkers, to you. While you were eternally patient and understanding about his double life, his business partners were not. He tried his best to ignore Karen’s gasps and Foggy’s pointed stares every time he limped into the office or winced while pouring his coffee. Despite his efforts, it always aggravated him, fueling his rage and thus perpetuating the cycle further. 

This week, Foggy had snapped. Yelling at Matt for putting himself in danger, for jeopardizing their recent case—they’d had to postpone a meeting with the prosecution given the state of Matt’s face—and their firm. In return, Matt had lashed out. Screaming about the greater good and Foggy not trusting him. It quickly became an all out brawl, both men hurling insults at the other despite Karen warning them that they were going too far. But her intervention came too late. 

“You claim to be so worried about people leaving but I don’t see how that’s fucking possible when you try so hard to scare us off, Murdock. Guess what!? It’s working!” Foggy snapped, throwing his hands in the air with a huff. 

Logically, Matt knew Foggy didn’t mean that—at least not in the way Matt heard it—but his throat felt swollen anyway. His heart pounded, the argument sitting on his tongue dissolving as his mouth grew increasingly dry. Loosening his tie, Matt stalked to his office to gather his things. 

“You know what, I think I’ll work at home for a few days.” He spoke stiffly, throwing the strap of his bag over his shoulder. 

“Matt,” Karen took a step towards him but he refuses to acknowledge her placating tone. 

“I’ll see you in court next week. I’ll drop off my opening argument tomorrow night.” Without waiting for their responses, he retreated to his apartment. 

With every step along the damp Manhattan sidewalk, his irritation grew. His brain was flickering back and forth between despair and indignation, his hands itching to hit something. Tonight would be productive, that much was clear. 

Though he usually waited until the late hours of the evening to go out as Daredevil, his argument with Foggy had ignited an impatient buzzing beneath his skin—his muscles clenching and anger bubbling until he caved to the Devil. It was risky, dashing from roof to roof in his suit at dusk, but his patience had worn out hours ago. 

The night felt endless, yet it was over far too soon. He raced through the streets, taking down thug after thug, until a serrated blade caught him off guard. With a jagged rip across his thigh, he made for his apartment—planning to crudely stitch the wound before finishing what he’d started. 

As he approached his loft, his ears locked on to a familiar heartbeat, its pattering mulling about his place as he grew closer. Foggy had sent in reinforcements, he supposed, though he wasn’t thrilled about it. 

Opening the rooftop door, Matt stomped down the stairs, hurling pieces of his suit across the space as he ripped them from his overheated body. Pretending not to care about the spike in your heartbeat, courtesy of his pounding steps, he tore the mask from his face, setting it beside the sink before filling a glass with water. 

Fidgeting with your sleeve, you approached him slowly, saying nothing as he downed a glass of lukewarm water before jutting his chin at you. 

“Say what you’re going to say, then leave.” His voice was harsh and deep, the Devil still fully in control. 

You inhaled slowly, not scared of his current state, but clearly unhappy all the same. “What makes you think I have something to say?” 

Matt bit back a scoff. “Foggy sent you, which means you’re on his side and are here to tell me off.” 

“On his side…Christ, Murdock.” You were a few paces in front of him, just behind the counter, your clothes rustling as you crossed your arms in frustration. 

“Why else would you be here?” Matt stormed around you and into his bathroom, unbuckling the bottom half to sew himself up. If anyone else had been here, he might have been more worried about modesty, but you’d seen him in more compromising positions than this over the years. 

Gritting your teeth as you trudged after him, your arms remained folded against your chest. “Because I care about you, asshole. Karen told me what Foggy said. I was worried.” 

Your heart thumped steadily with your honest admission, eliciting a pang of guilt deep in Matt’s subconscious. He remained silent, rubbing a damp cloth over his wound to clean it up before he attempted suturing it. At his lack of response, you scoffed, “Don’t know why I was so worried. You’re clearly taking it very well.” 

Spinning to face you, his lips curled. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what you think it means, Matt.” You snapped back at him, regretting it when his jaw twitched in response. Sighing, your voice softened. “You are so strong, and I know that Foggy and Karen give you a hard time but they’re not entirely wrong. It’s ok to ask for help.” 

“I don’t need their help.” Matt muttered, leaning against the cold porcelain sink in the bathroom. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” 

“No one is saying that you’re not.” You tried to reason, but he refused to listen. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what Foggy was saying, actually. How would you even know? It’s not like you were there.” He bit out, resentment prickling through his words. 

Ouch. He was right. You weren’t there. Because you’d taken a new job across the city. And he clearly was still not ok with that fact. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there.” You spoke gravely, brushing away a smudge of dirt on his cheek with your thumb. He tensed under your touch, but didn’t flinch away. “But you know that I don’t agree with what Fog said, right? Regardless of whether he meant it, it was wrong for him to imply—“

Shoving your hand from his face, his lips formed a scowl once again. “What? That it’s my fault? That people leave because I make them? Maybe he’s right.” 

“Matt, that’s not true. You know—“

“Don’t tell me what I know!” He roared pressing into your personal space, eyes blazing with fury. 

Breathing evenly, you shifted your weight away from him. Not flinching out of fear, just a natural reaction to his behavior, yet the movement still stung. Retreating from you, he picked up the cloth and refocused on the gash across his thigh. 

“Go home,” He spoke your name coldly. This wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

“Matt—“ You started but he glared at you. 

“Go.”

You nodded, pacing back into the living room to grab your purse from the couch. “Call me if you need anything, Matty. I’ll be around.” You spoke softly, your soft footsteps fading as you left his loft. 

Biting back an irritated snarl, Matt tread into the kitchen to grab a bottle of whiskey. Taking a full swig, he pushed his guilt and pain aside and picked up a needle. 

Burying your face in the collar of your jacket, you scrunched your nose as a particularly fierce gust of wind smacked you. Soldiering forward, you sped down the street towards the dimly lit building you were aiming for. 

It might be a mistake to return to Matt’s loft, but you couldn’t leave him there alone when he was so distraught. At least, not in good conscience. 

You respected his request for space, absolutely—taking time to return to your own apartment and retrieve his worn Columbia sweater, which you’d stolen a few weeks ago and simply not given back. It was soft and oversized, for you at least, making it ridiculously comfortable. But it was clear Matt needed that comfort more than you did right now. 

After tucking the garment in your bag carefully, you headed back out into the blustery evening to pick up a large order of food from Matt’s favorite Italian place. 

If he still didn’t want you there upon your return, so be it. But the man wouldn’t go cold or hungry on your watch, dammit. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust him to take care of himself, you just recognized that self-preservation wasn’t a priority for him when he was…like this. Brooding. Angry. 

In the decade and a half you’d known him, you had started to piece together Matt’s various moods and this was a common one. His heightened senses igniting something inside him that pulled him into fights all around the city. You couldn’t imagine the pain he felt hearing innocent civilians in trouble constantly. But eventually, he’d stop restraining himself. Sleep less. Eat less. Go to work, go out as Daredevil, and do it all again the next day—even when he was a jumble of exhaustion and bruises. 

In these moments, he was no longer your beloved Matthew Murdock. He was a candle, with a burning wick and a torch at his base. The wax slowly melting away, until his sanity was nothing but a distant memory. 

This was something you’d seen a handful of times when working with him and Foggy, even back when you three were just interns at Landman and Zack. It was the thing about Matt that you and Foggy argued about most these days. 

See, Foggy believed the solution to these episodes was to remove Daredevil from the equation altogether. You couldn’t necessarily blame the blond for thinking that, given how Matt’s vigilante antics impacted his work and his ability to be a good friend. 

Despite understanding Foggy’s concerns, your faith in Matt didn’t hinge on his nighttime activities. These periods of great stress were a sign that Matt needed support. Not an indication that he was no longer able to lead a double life. 

While the average person might snap or cry when they were overwhelmed, Matt would force himself to take more on. You assumed this was a symptom of the manipulation he’d endured during his youth. 

Matt hadn’t disclosed much about his childhood mentor, but you knew that he’d been encouraged to work through periods of distress, simply bottling up his feelings in order to ensure productivity. Given that he’d never had those beliefs challenged until well into adulthood, it was second nature for him to add more to his plate until he couldn’t anymore—whether that was because someone forced him to rest, or he was literally comatose. 

He’d confessed to you once—on another night like tonight when he was so tired of fighting everyone that he caved to your questioning—that rest wasn’t something that came easily to him. It was almost an enemy, in his mind, preventing him from helping as many people as he could. Resting meant he was a failure, and failing meant people would leave. 

This conversation lived in the back of your mind every time the dark haired man frustrated you. Every sleepless night spent pulling your hair out while you waited for him to text you that he was alive, every morning spent patching him up in the conference room because the walk to work had pulled his stitches out. Each and every time Matt’s other identity impacted your life, you reminded yourself that, in his mind, he didn’t have a choice. 

This time was no different. 

Though it probably didn’t help that Foggy had insinuated that he was thinking of leaving Matt. Not when Matt’s subconscious was desperately trying to pretend his life was balanced to keep everyone happy. Which is why you allowed yourself to be more stubborn than usual this dreadful evening, worming your way back into Matt’s home so he knew that he wasn’t in danger of being alone. 

Removing one ungloved hand from the safety of your fleece lined pocket, you yanked open the door to the restaurant, smiling softly at the hostess as her eyes met yours. 

“I have an order for pick up?” Giving her your name, you curled both hands back into your pockets, shifting your weight from foot to foot as you waited, somewhat impatiently, for your food. 

After what felt like an hour, the hostess handed you two bags stacked with containers, grimacing apologetically. “Sorry about the wait!”

“Not a problem!” You shrugged, grabbing the bags. “Thank you!!”

Dashing around the crowd forming behind you, your feet carried you the few remaining blocks to Matt’s building. Treading up the stairs slowly, you panted, taking a moment to breathe before making it to his door. 

Here goes nothing. 

You bypassed waiting for Matt to open the door, instead choosing to knock gingerly and use your spare key to unlock the door. 

“Matty?” You called softly, receiving no answer. 

Inhaling deeply, hoping you weren’t about to irreparably damage your relationship with Matt, you stepped over the threshold and into his space. Shuffling around the corner at the end of the hallway, you peeked into the loft, scanning it for any indication of your overworked friend—but there was no sign of him. No obvious one, at least. 

As you blocked out the muffled sounds of the city that had managed to penetrate the walls of the loft, your ears picked up a hushed sound from somewhere in the kitchen. A rapid whooshing—like panting, or choking. 

Rushing around the counter, your eyes widened in shock as you found Matt curled against the dark wooden cabinets. He was seated, but hunched over his knees, his hands tightly wrapped around his shins to keep his body in the position as he rocked back and forth. There was a jaggedly stitched line along his thigh, surrounded by mottled skin and goosebumps. Given his lack of clothing—he was only wearing his boxers—and the frigid temperature in the room, the poor man was shaking violently. A combination of his harsh breathing and his low body temperature, you assumed. 

As your presence became more noticeable, Matt tilted his head up, chin wobbling, eyes frantic and shining. Calling your name shakily, his weak plea almost made your own eyes well up. 

Crouching before him, you set the bags in your grasp aside, opening your palms to him. “It’s me, sweetheart. I’m right here. What happened?”

“D-don’t know. Can’t breathe.” Matt choked around the words, leaning towards you as you scrambled closer. 

“Can I touch—“ You asked, hesitant to take any major steps without explicit permission. 

“Yes. Please,” He sobbed, collapsing against your chest as your arms opened. 

“It’s ok. You’re ok, sweet boy.” You rubbed a hand over his back in a circular motion, using your free hand to guide one of his palms to your chest. “Feel my breathing?” 

Matt nodded against your chest, nails digging into your shoulder blade as he tried to get his breathing under control. 

“That’s my guy. Doing so good for me, handsome.” You praised softly, tracing your hand up his back and into his hair in the way you knew he loved. “That’s it, nice even breaths.” 

Unwinding your body from its squatted position, you sat on the cold floor, spreading your legs to allow Matt to fall into your lap. Perched across your thighs, Matt’s slowly stopped heaving. He was still covered in goosebumps and bruises, but his probable panic attack had been avoided for now. 

“There we go. Good job, honey. Feel a bit better?” You scratched diligently at Matt’s scalp, his skull knocking against your fingers with a nod. 

“Yes. Thank you.” He murmured, hot breath hitting your collar bone, a contrast to his icy skin. 

“Ok, sweets. Are you cold?” 

Another nod, making your lips twitch with a tiny smile. “Yah, stupid question. Here, put this on.” 

Pulling your bag over to you, you yanked out the sweater and handed it to him, mourning the loss of contact as he sat up to slip it on. After his chest was covered, his brow furrowed, a hand coming up to trace the text on the front of the hoodie. “My sweatshirt?” 

Cupping his stubbled cheek, you stroked a thumb over his jaw. “I brought it back. Thought you might need it tonight. C’mon honey, why don’t we go lay down, hm?” 

Allowing Matt to crawl off your lap, you drew him from the floor as you stood, laying your arm around his waist and holding him upright as he hobbled to his room. Tumbling onto the mattress, he haphazardly threw his sheets over his bare legs, curling into fetal position. His body was stiff, as if he was clenching every muscle to prevent writhing in pain. Sitting next to his waist, you fussed with the covers, drawing them more tightly around his rigid form. 

“There, that’s better. Just close your eyes and—“ you attempted to encourage the weary man to rest but his small voice interrupted. 

“You came back.” Matt spoke lowly, blinking back a new wave of tears. “You came back when I told you to leave.” 

“Do you need me to go? That’s fine, Matty, I’ll just—“ 

“No!” His hand shot out, wrapping around your wrist. “Please don’t.” 

“Ok, sweet boy. I’ll stay here. As long as you want me to.” 

Matt nodded once, tears trailing down his face again. “You came back.” No longer talking to you, it seemed that he was trying to make himself believe that he was no longer alone. 

Sliding down to face him, you ran a hand over his arm, letting him murmur silently to himself until he spoke to you again.

“I don’t think they’ll ever be happy.” 

“Who won’t be happy, handsome?” You asked quietly, propping yourself up on an elbow to study his face as he answered. 

“Foggy and Karen. Maybe you too, I’m not sure.” His voice cracked, tears pouring down his cheeks as he squeezed his eyes shut. 

“Hey, hey,” You shushed, drawing him back into your chest. “Oh, Matty—“

“What am I supposed to do?” His hazel eyes reopened, revealing a hopelessness you were shocked to see. “I hear people screaming for help and I…I can’t just lay here doing nothing. I don’t know how. And I try to explain but no one understands. I don’t know what to do,” When he uttered your name this time, it was a desperate request—to confirm that you understood, that you wouldn’t hold his actions against him. 

“Oh, Matt, honey, I’m so sorry.” You rested your chin atop his head as he sobbed into your collarbone. “Sweetheart, you are so good at what you do. You’re a fucking hero. No one is mad about you choosing to use every ability you have to help people, we just worry about you, sweets, that’s all. And, I can’t speak for the others, but you shouldn’t have to worry about making me happy, ok? As long as you’re alive—“

“He’s going to leave me.” Ah. That’s where his mind was getting stuck. The words were broken, Matt’s voice strained beyond recognition as he voiced his fear. “He’s going to leave me like you did.”

A lump of emotion clogged your throat, tears wavering against your waterline. “Matt, you know I didn’t leave because of you, right?”

He shrugged against you, body still trembling as he cried. 

“Matty, I adore you. I loved working with you and seeing you every day, sweets. I just couldn’t live on pies and hand-knit gloves in one of the most expensive cities in the country. I needed income, not an escape. I’m still here. I’m still yours.” 

Heaving out a shaky breath, Matt nodded. Caressing his cheek, you asked. “What did my heartbeat tell you?”

“Truth.” He whispered. The two of you sat in silence, your hand absentmindedly running through his mussed hair as his body stopped shaking. Just when you thought the fear of abandonment had been swayed for the night, he piped up one last time. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“About Foggy?” You clarified, biting your lip when Matt nodded. With a sigh, you brought your fingers to his silky hair once again. “Matt, I am not psychic, I don’t know what the future will look like for the two of you, but I know that Foggy loves you. So does Karen, and so do I. And you don’t leave the people you love. You talk it out, you forgive them for their mistakes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Matt whimpered. 

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. But I’ll be right here with you through it all, ok?” Pressing your lips to his forehead, you brushed a few strands of hair away from his face. “I don’t want to scare you, sweet boy, but I have to go into your kitchen for a moment. I brought some food with me that I’m going to put in your fridge for later. I’ll get you some water too. Anything else you need?” 

“Aspirin.” He murmured, blank eyes glossy with tears. 

“Of course, sweets. I’ll be right back.” With another brush of fingers over his scalp, you wriggled out from under him and hurried to the kitchen—shoving the food into his bare fridge while grabbing water and pills. 

He took the medicine you handed him diligently, his expression uncharacteristically blank. Draining the glass of water, he handed the empty cup to you without a word. You could see him slipping away into the recesses of his mind, trying to shove everything down once again, to handle it all himself. 

Sliding under the covers next to him, you wrapped him in a tight embrace as he buried his damp face in your neck. 

“Talk to me, sweets. What do you need?” 

“Just you.” Matt choked out, fisting your shirt in his hands as if worried you were imaginary. “Please.” 

“I’m right here. Always.” Kissing his crown, you ran a hand along his spine, humming softly as his breathing evened out. 

He wasn’t through the rough patch yet, but that was ok. You were going to be here regardless. And you’d tell him that every day until he believed you.

[qoldenskies]

Don’t feel pressured to answer or anything because I’m mostly just thinking out loud, especially if it’s part of future plot, but I’m so curious as to what Splinter was doing during the time Donnie was in the closet. Was he even there? If he was, did the boys just tell him he was having his meltdowns or something? Splints where were you those 3 MONTHS?

Also I keep thinking about Donnie’s shark plushie in Coming Undone… that’s all <3 Do they have a name?

they intentionally threw splinter off the trail! he's very in and out of their lives at times (like how he doesnt really know most of what they get into when they patrol) and donnie has already taken,, well, more emotional and physical distance from him compared to mikey, for example (this is shown through things like donnie asking splinter for advice to be "drastic measures", he has some BAGGAGE he is not acknowledging with his dad), so paired with them intentionally keeping things away from him and him leaving the lair more (i like to imagine he's taken up dating again.... get it splinter!!! so sorry about the trauma demon that has just taken your family though) it was kind of inevitable. donnie sees him around quite a bit and there's some skips through time so its not like he disappeared completely after crying to him about what was going on, but for the last month splinter didnt see him at all :( im sure he was aware SOMETHING was going on because they were all acting off, but he didn't catch anything until he came back to the lair after the curse broke and immediately walked into raph and leo trying to kill each other (they were hysterical with stress and didnt mean it, dont worry about it)

its just another case of seeing signs but not having the full picture. april, for example, knew about the distance donnie was taking from her the whole time (she very correctly clocked what he was doing on the rooftop) but even with their communication improving she didn't want to overwhelm him especially because he likes to double down,,, she regrets that now. most of the excuses from the other three were along the lines of "he's having a bad day/doesn't want to hang out right now" which is unfortunately very effective because donnie can turn into a recluse at times already, and why would they assume theyre intentionally trying to isolate him?

as for the shark plushie, donnie to me is the type of person who will she/her everything he owns and talk to objects so she DEFINITELY has a name, he probably picked a longer one like genevieve or eleanor or something. they all forget everything all of the names he gives things so they just call it The Shark Plushie. maybe ill pick one and bring her back for canary continuity, she's a queen

[simslegacy5083]

NSB (Straud Legacy) Gen 9

Today's (7/24/2024) Episode: A Double Triple Threat

Unfortunately for Peachy, who had been looking forward to celebrating his sudden acclaim, the morning following his impromptu stand-up special began with both he and Noemi feeling quite ill.

It was unclear whether Noemi brought it home from the hospital, Peachy brought it home from the studio, or some unwitting visitor brought it to them both, but the two sims found themselves down and out, suffering from some nasty virus.

Their partners were quite worried given Peachy's age and Noemi's fragile post-recovery state, but neither sim was willing to check in with an MD.

Noemi had just gotten home, and she was fearful of being admitted again. She'd already missed enough time with Skye, and she swore she didn't even feel that bad. She was sure some juice and rest would fix her right up.

As for Peachy, he was way too busy to bother with the doctor. He had new material to write, meetings for his new show to take… he certainly didn’t have time to “spend hours at the clinic being told what I already know".

“Besides,” he jokingly told his wife, "I'm five minutes away from kicking the bucket, what's the difference if it happens 2 minutes earlier?!"

The pair hoped that their illness would quickly fade, but reality decided to go in a different direction. That afternoon Luigi discovered Noemi in bed , too sick to get up, while Valentina found Peachy in the office, clutching his stomach and moaning in pain.

The remaining healthy members of the household agreed that this "wait and see" plan had officially worn out it’s welcome.

Calling Grandpa Candor over to watch Skye, they dragged their shaky legged loves directly to the clinic, accepting no more excuses or delays.

Even in his current state the long-time comedian found humor in his situation as he once again ended up sharing a hospital room with a family member.

“At least this time my made for TV face isn’t getting even more character, I don’t think the makeup team would thank me!” he chortled merrily.

It was as slow as Peachy had feared to get answers at the clinic. Feeling better on his IV drip, he was even begging Valentina to fetch his laptop when the doctor finally came in to tell them that they had both been diagnosed with Triple Threat, a serious malady that had a history with their family. 

When Noemi heard she would have to go into surgery, again, she immediately started to cry. She didn't want another surgery and she certainly didn’t want to be admitted – she'd missed enough time with her baby already!

The doctor came over to help Luigi assure her that Triple Threat surgery didn’t typically require a prolonged hospital stay, and all would be well.

Noemi might have a slightly longer recovery period seeing as she was still not fully healed from her previous abdominal surgery, but even with that and careful monitoring of her recovery, she’d be on her way home to Skye that evening… tomorrow morning at the latest.

After that it was more hurry up and wait as the two sims were prepped for their procedure. When they were finally taken into the operating theater Luigi and Valentina retired to the waiting area. They’d barely gotten seated before Luigi’s frustration surfaced.

“What does The Watcher think they’re doing anyway!? What did dad, and especially poor Noemi, do to deserve this kind of treatment?”

Valentina and Peachy had never believed in Jack's tales of the omnipresent "other" overseeing their daily existence, but she didn't try to argue with her boy’s faith. “I’m so sorry this keeps happening, but you know I’ll be right here with you as long as I’m needed”.

Fortunately, the staff kept them informed as the surgeries progressed without any complications. Despite nearly a best-case outcome, the Doctor still recommended that they err on the side of caution and keep both high-risk patients overnight for observation, just in case.

Knowing that their partners were desperate to get home, Luigi and Valentina compromised on just a few more hours of observation and then careful monitoring by family, coming back in at the first sign of any worsening or worrying symptoms. Their loved ones would be coming home tonight!

Once Peachy and Noemi were back home and tucked snugly in bed to rest Valentina went to check in on Skye while Luigi texted his gaming buddies and fired up the living room console to relieve his stress with a few rounds of party frenzy.

Seriously, he thought to himself, enough was enough already! As he got logged in and filled his friends in on the latest disaster over voice chat, he silently prayed that no more bad luck was headed his family's way anytime soon.

View The Full Story of My Not So Berry Challenge Here

[zodiakuroo]

Love Thy Brother

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, dabi’s canononical dick piercings  manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, manipulation, blackmail, spit, stepcest, loss of virginity, dacryphilia, mentioned breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege : 3

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: secured my spot in hell with this one for sure anyways touya-nii go brrrrr

part 2 here!

But he that hates his brother is in darkness, and walks in darkness, and knows not whither he goes, because that darkness hath blinded his eyes. – 1 John 2:11

Gaining 4 new siblings as a young adult is not something anyone expects, you think, but you’re grateful to have been accepted into Enji Todoroki’s family nonetheless.

Fuyumi was the big sister you always wanted, kind and nurturing, always happy to let you borrow her clothes and give you advice. You and Natsuo the closest in age.  He was warm and friendly and while he teased you a lot it was never mean spirited, just the kind that was typical between siblings. Shoto was quiet in nature and though it took him more time than the rest to warm up to you, eventually you two became friends as well.

And there was Touya…..

Well, Dabi as he prefers to be called.

When you first met him, you were terrified, the shock of seeing him made you hide behind your mother instinctively.  The Todoroki clan looked every bit the perfect suburban family except for Dabi. He had his hair dyed jet black, with seemingly more tattoos than clean skin. He had several cartilage piercings in his ears as well as three small studs in his nostril and a barbell through his eyebrow.  He scoffed at your scared reaction, sticking out his tongue to show you the silver ball on its surface and sending a wink your way.

Admittedly, felt guilty for judging Dabi based on his appearance, but you would soon come to find that sometimes it’s better to trust your judgement.

At first, Dabi ignored you, acted as if you didn’t exist. And the times when he was forced to acknowledge your presence in his family he acted as though you were nothing more than a nuisance. You thought that you might have offended him somehow but Fuyumi assured you that Dabi was just like that and that you shouldn’t take it personally. “He just needs to get to know you.” She said.

She was wrong though. Dabi couldn’t stand you.

Everything about you infuriates him. Prancing around in those frumpy sweaters and modest skirts like anyone would bother to lewd you anyways. Lest they attempt, you wear that gold cross necklace everywhere you like a big old “PROPERTY OF JESUS” tag. Your insistence to say a prayer every time the family dog so much as farts. The way his entire family seems to be enamored by your church girl act. Perhaps what he hates most is the way you look at him, poor delinquent Dabi, like you’re so much better than him. Sanctimonious bitch.

Then he noticed how you were with Natsuo. How you would pout and whine when he teased you and sometimes, to everyone’s shock and amusement, banter back and forth with him. Let’s be clear here, he didn’t care about you. He cared about attention. You were giving too much of your attention to his younger brother and that just wouldn’t do.

Pretty soon, Touya was in on the teasing. He started out by making fun of you for being so conservative. Low-hanging fruit. You’ve heard it all before so it didn’t wrench much of a reaction for you but that just made him more determined. Sometimes it got downright mean, earning him a scolding from Fuyumi. Not that he would listen anyways

Then it got physical. It started innocently enough, Dabi would tug on your hair, snatch food out of your hands, kick you underneath the dinner table. Albeit childish, it was incredibly annoying. You would shriek and yell for him to cut it out and after finally getting the desired reaction from you, he became hungry for more.

So he started taking more risks. When you were in the kitchen alone Dabi would brush his hand under your skirt making you squeal. That progressed to him flicking up your skirt to catch a glimpse of your panties which progressed to him spanking you so hard, you’d think of him every time you sat down for the rest of the day.

On the days when he was in a good mood (read: stoned out of his mind), he would pull you into his lap and hold you there, blowing smoke in your face that made you cough so that he could laugh. Sometimes he would let his hands wander, over your chest and between your thighs while you squirm in his hold. He’d say “Anyone ever touch you like this? I hope not, I’m sure it would piss off Jesus”

As if the touching wasn’t invasive enough, Dabi felt he was entitled to your room and personal artifacts. Often you’d come back from campus or church to find the contents of your underwear drawer spilled on the floor. You would notice a pair or two missing when you packed them back.

One time he vandalised your bible with drawings of penises on every single page.

“D’ya like my artwork princess?” he said when you confronted him. In a fit of rage, threw the book at his head. You missed (unfortunately) making him like laugh. “Surely there’s something condemning violence in that book of yours.”

You tried locking him out of your room but all that did was make him angrier. He threated to break your door clean off its hinges if you did it again.

Which brings you to your current predicament.

It had been a long day. You woke up late landing you in trouble with your manager. Your coworker fell ill and you had to cover a double shift, with no shortage of asshole customers on this particular day it seems. On top of all that, you just got stood up for date. You come home to a quiet house and you’re so grateful for this small blessing on a day like this. After a long, scalding hot shower, you lie on your bed wrapped in a fluffy, white towel, contemplating your next move.

You were home alone and with a family this big that hardly ever happens. You do what any person would do after having the day you had.

You smile to yourself, undoing the knot on your towel and falling back onto your pillows, hands already caressing your breasts.

You’re a Christian not a robot. Of course you masturbate. Sure you feel ashamed. You can hear your mother’s voice chide about how sinful it is but that all melts away when your little fingers slide between your wet folds. Shame can wait.

Being the menace in your life that he is, the eldest Todoroki chose that exact moment to barge into your room unannounced.

You scramble for your covers trying your best to preserve some modesty but it’s too late, you’ve been caught. You shriek in terror.

“Oh my god!” Dabi practically cackles.

“Dabi! It’s not what it looks like I swear.”

“Oh really?” He stalks over to your bed with the predatory grin on his face. “Because to me it looks like my innocent, holier than though baby sister is a nasty, little, closet pervert.” He’s now straddling you over your covers, you want to fight him off but that would mean letting go over your duvet and you know once you do that, it’s over. Dabi has the upper hand though. Soon he’s got both of your wrists in one of his hands, pinned above your head. His other hand, almost immediately, is pulling the down the covers, revealing your naked torso to him. “Huh.’ He muses as he palms one of your breasts. “Seems like it’s exactly what it looks like.”

“Dabi! Get off me!” You squirm under him but he’s too heavy so it’s no use.

“Nice tits Sis.” Dabi ignores your protests. “I don’t get why you keep them hidden.”

“I’m not your sister you creep!” you say with as much venom as you can muster.

“Aw princess,” he pouts and moves his hand up to cup your jaw, squeezing your cheeks harshly “it hurts your Nii-san’s feelings when you talk to him like that. I wonder what our parents would think. Should I tell them how filthy their sweet, little daughter really is?”

He revels in the fear in your eyes. You shake your head frantically. “No Dabi please! Please don’t tell them.” You whimper, words garbled.

“Don’t tell them what little sister? What were you doing?” He smirks. His hand goes back to your breast, this time to tweak your nipple.

The sadistic freak. Was he really going to make you say it? He answers your silent question with a sharp smack to your breast.

“I-I was masturbating.” You mumble, squeezing your eyes shut, cheeks burning from embarrassment.

“No, you weren’t”  he says as a matter of fact before pinching your already stiff nipple making your eyes shoot open and you yelp in pain. “You were playing with your little virgin cunt. Now say it.”

There is no way you could say those words. Has he not humiliated you enough? You try once again to break free but he’s got an iron grip on your wrists and he’s sitting on top of your thighs. There’s no way you’re getting out of this.

He pinches you again but harder this time, twisting your nipple and keeping it there.

“I was ah­ I was playing with my v-v-irgin c- Dabi! Cunt! There I said it! Let go!”

He snickers at your pain but let’s go of you entirely, shifting his weight off of you. You’re grateful for the reprieve, immediately pulling up the covers to cover up your body again. You will yourself not to cry until Dabi has left the room or else you’ll never hear the end of it. But he’s not finished with you yet.

“Show me.” He sits down on your desk chair facing you, his legs spread wide.

“What?” Surely you misheard him.

“Show your Nii-san how you play with that ‘little virgin cunt’” He smiles using air quotations.

“Dabi, this is wrong-“ you whimper

“Touya-nii.” You furrow your brows in confusion and he says again. “Call me Touya-nii. I’m not leaving this room until I see what I want.”

Say what you want about Dabi but he’s a man of his word. You know he means what he says. The last thing you want is for anyone in your family to come home and find you naked in your room with your step-brother. It’s just better to do what he asks demands.

You slowly peel the covers off you, exposing your naked body to your step brother. He’s eyeing you intently, palming the growing bulge under his jeans. His sister was hiding such a hot little body, right under his roof and he had no idea. You can’t bear to look at him. You clamp your thighs shut to hide your pussy from him, a weak attempt to save what’s left of your dignity. You wriggle your hand in between your legs and you try to move it as best you can without showing him more of you.

Wait.

You’re wet?

You’re wet.

Well screw dignity I guess.

“Oh none of that.” Touya scoffs. “Spread your legs.”

You obey him and he rewards you with a low whistle. “What a cute little pussy.” He murmurs so low you’re not even sure he’s talking to you. You flinch, wanting to close your legs on instinct but a firm “Don’t” from Dabi stops you in your tracks. “Show me how my little sister likes to play.”

His words make your pussy throb but you’re still reeling, both physically and mentally at, the shock from your current position so when your fingers try to rub circles on your clit, they’re shaky and sloppy.

“That’s pathetic. Is this how you do it? No wonder you’re so uptight, you probably never cum huh? Put your fingers inside, I wanna see you stretch your little hole.”

“Dabi I-“

“I won’t ask you to address me properly again. Next time, you’re getting your ass beat.”

“T-Touya-nii. I’ve never… put them inside.” You mumble.

“Never?” He can’t hide the amusement in his voice.

You simply shake your head, unable to meet his gaze.

Fucking jackpot. He thinks.  This is why he loves virgins.

“Oh no. Does the poor baby want her Nii-san to show her how it’s done?” voice dripping with condescension.

You’re horribly ashamed. Disgusted by the whole situation. And yet you find yourself nodding.

Dabi crawls on to your bed, discarding his shirt in the process. Next thing he has you flipped over, ass in the air, lying across his lap.

He spanks you, hard. Like he always does, loud smack echoing through the room. You cry out like you always do but it’s different this time. It’s different because this time you’re naked, on top of him. It’s different because you can feel his hard-on poking into your stomach. It’s different because everything about the situation is making you clench.

He grips the sore, reddened flesh and pulls apart your cheeks to look right at your fluttering hole. His thumb finds your clit and he starts to rub slow circles into it. “I meant what said you know. This is the prettiest fucking cunt I’ve ever seen.” You let out a whine as you feel his warm, wet spit land right on your opening, before Touya slides a long, slender middle finger into your tight pussy. He uses his other hand to hit you again. “You’re a good girl right? What do good girl’s say when they get compliments?”

Your head is spinning from his ministrations, so much so that a verbal response escapes you. You’re too busy bucking your hips against his hand. Dabi snaps you out of your trance with another spank, even harder, so your feel the sting spread across your glute. “Hnnghh… thank you Touya-nii.” He rewards you with his ring finger finding its way inside you as well. “Shit.” You say through gritted teeth. You clench around him trying to adjust to the foreign sensation.

Whack. This time on the other cheek, both burning red by now, you’re sure. “Where’d you learn to talk like that, naughty girl?” The way he’s moving his fingers inside you feels like he’s looking for something, you have no idea what. It’s not unpleasant but uncomfortable. You turn your head back to look at his face. It’s the same face he makes when he’s rolling a joint or playing video games with his friends. He’s concentrating. “Fuck, relax for me princess.” You’re trying. You’re really trying. You take a deep breath, trying to think about anything other than the way you’re being stretched.

Then it hits you. An overwhelming ecstasy, spreading from your groin, all the way down to your toes. You figure out that’s what he’s been looking for.

You find yourself grinding down onto his bulge in an attempt to escape the onslaught of his fingers, but it’s no use, not with the way his thumb is circling your throbbing clit.

“Can’t even take two fingers in this tiny pussy huh? How are you gonna take my cock?” Dabi gives you a third finger and the stretch is officially unbearable.

You can’t do anything but pant in his lap while he holds you down, making sure that you keep still. Suddenly, you realise the gravity of the circumstances you find yourself in. Your step brother is going to fuck you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

“God, please slow down!” You cry out. He keeps hitting that spot over and over. It’s too much. You look back at him with tears in your eyes, pleading for reprieve. The satisfied smile on his face lets you know that he couldn’t care less. You feel an orgasm building, stronger than any that you’ve given yourself.

“No God here, doll. Just the Almighty Dabi. And guess what? He wants you to come for him.”

Even before he finishes his sentence, you’re already convulsing on top of him. For a moment you forget how debauched the situation is. Being debased by a man who you not only despise but are related to. All feelings of shame are replaced by pure, hot bliss that sets your nerves on fire. Dabi does not relent. Not until the please you feel is eclipsed by the pain of oversensitivity and you’re writhing in futile attempt to escape.

Dabi pulls his fingers out of you and wraps his other hand around your neck, dragging you up to face him. He holds his fingers, covered in your cream, right in front of your face. “Messy slut. Clean them.”

Before you can respond the fingers press against your lips. You have no choice but to take them inside your mouth. He grips the back of your head while you lave your tongue over his fingers, sucking off your release. He’s keeps a tension on your strands that makes your scalp sting. It’s a silent warning to keep your eyes on him. You’ve caught on by now that he wants this to be as humiliating as possible for you. As if coming on your step-brother’s fingers weren’t humiliating enough. He shoves his fingers deeper, making you gag around them drool seeping from the corner of your mouth.

“Good girl.” He growls as he wipes his saliva covered fingers dry on your face. Again, you fight back the tears of embarrassment. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Dabi prompts you with cruel tug on your hair. “Gah! Th-thank you Touya-nii.” You whimper.

“Hmm.” His hands move to your hips and he rolls his hips to grind his hard cock into your core. “You want Nii-san to fuck you now?”

Your bottom lip quivers. Is he giving you an out? You pray to God that Dabi is giving you a way out of this. You doubt God cares about what you want right now but still, you hope he can grant you this one mercy, you’ll make it up to him somehow. You shake your head no. You probably look so pitiful right now, naked on top of Touya while he bucks up against you, your own spit streaked across your face, barely stopping the tears in your eyes from spilling.

“Liar.” He sneers. “You want your big brother to split that virgin hole right open.”

You’re stupid for thinking he would give you a way out. You realise that now. No point in trying not to cry. Nothing is gonna stop him from getting what he wants anyway. You can’t hold back the choked sobs anymore

“Such pretty tears, baby.” Dabi coos at you. “Don’t worry. Nii-san is gonna give you exactly what you want.”

He picks you up off of him and positions you exactly how he wants, on all fours, swollen cunt exposed for him. He kneels behind you and you hear the sounds of him undoing his jeans. You turn your head back, curiosity getting the better of you. Your eyes find Dabi just in time to see him free himself from his boxers, which join his jeans bunched at is knees. The sight makes your eyes go wide. It’s your first time seeing one in real life. Were they supposed to be that big? And… pierced?

He quirks a brow at you, smug look plastered on his face. He strokes himself in front of you, spreading his pre-cum along his shaft. He’s tilts it upwards to make sure you get a good look at the vertical barbell that goes through his tip and three horizontal, parallel bars along the underside. “You look scared. Don’t worry princess, Big brother Dabi’s gonna make it fit.” You feel his tip press against your opening and brace yourself.

You’ve heard stories from your friends. You know the first time hurts but God nothing could have prepared you for this .Touya makes good on his word, sliding his entirely until your pressed right against his pelvis. The scream you let out is ear shattering but you can’t help it, the stretch is excruciating. The way his piercings catch on your walls only, intensifies the burn. You crawl toward your headboard instinctively, it’s too much. Way too much.

He’s not having any of it. Dabi pulls you up to him with a hand wrapped around your throat until your back meets his front. “Shh shh shh. Don’t run baby. You’re gonna take all of it.” He groans right against your ear. Without giving you time to adjust, he begins to thrust into you at a relentless pace. You have no choice but to let him use you.

“Who’s fucking you huh? Who’s making you feel good?”

“My nii-san. Touya-nii is fucking me so good.”

“Yeah fuck. Love this holy pussy” He delivers a harsh smack directly on to your clit, making you quiver in his hold. He laughs at your reaction. “Gonna say a prayer for me babe? I wanna hear it.”

“Huh?” You’re barely lucid, there’s no way you heard him correctly.

“Well you’re a little sinner slut now. You should probably ask for forgiveness. Pray.”

You’re sure you’re beyond salvation now but you submit nonetheless. “Have mercy on me, O God, according to Your unfailing love; according to Your great compassion.” You gasp as he tightens his hand around your throat. “Against You, have I sinned and done what is evil in Your sight. Oh fuck Touya-nii!”

“Bad girl.” Dabi gives you another strike right on your aching clit. “Don’t think God is gonna be very happy with you.” Dabi is though. Dabi’s very happy with you. Your tight, gummy pussy sucks him back in every time he pulls back. It just makes him fuck you harder, he wants to make you scream louder for him.

“Create in me a pure heart, O God, and renew a steadfast spirit within me. Ngggghh Shit. Do not cast me from Your presence or take Your Holy Spirit from me.” You’re sobbing outright, gasping to get air into your constricted throat.

“You gonna cum? My bad girl gonna come for her big brother?” Dabi grunts into your ear.

“Yeah close Touya-nii.”

“Hmm me too.”

“NOT INSIDE TOUYA-NII” You begin to thrash in his arms.

“S’matter princess? Don’t wanna have your big brother’s babies? That’s hurtful.” He snickers. He releases your throat in favour of pressing you into the mattress, large hand resting between your shoulder blades. “Better cum before I do then.”

The ridges of his piercings rub up against that same sweet spot, over and over again. You’re dizzy from the lack of air and absolutely drunk with pleasure on his cock. Pretty much the only thing tethering you to this existence is the unforgiving grip he has on your ass, digging his nails into your flesh. He reaches his hand around to rub your sore, puffy clit. It pushes you over the edge a second time. You feel every muscle contract and relax as the waves of your orgasm wash over you, making you cry out in bliss.

As soon as you come down from your high, Dabi has you flipped on to your back and is straddling your torso. “Keep praying.” He mutters. He furrows his brows, huffing as he jerks off on top of you, eyes focused intently on your gold necklace.

“Restore to me the joy of Your salvation and grant me a willing spirit to sustain me. Then will I teach transgressors Your ways, and sinners will turn back to You. Amen”

“Yeah, fuck that’s it take it baby.” Dabi sprays his come over your chest, aiming his load right on your cross, a symbol of your devotion to Christ, defiled. He looks absolutely euphoric watching the ropes of his hot cum slowly run down onto your nipples and down the valley of your breasts

“Don’t you fucking move.” He pants, catching his breath. He picks up his phone and you hear his camera click. He looks at the picture and smiles. You look absolutely fucked out. Hair disheveled, face red and bloated from crying and completely covered in his load. Yeah a real good, Christian girl. He thinks.

“Dabi! No!” You lunge forward, trying to grab his phone from his hand. Almost effortlessly, Touya shoves you back onto the bed.

“Relax. No one’s gonna see it. Not unless you snitch to mommy and daddy.”

“You promise?” You grab the tissues from your nightstand and wipe yourself clean. The smell lingers though, along with the grimy feeling, seemingly embedded in your skin. You look up at him, sniffling, tears still rolling down your cheeks. If he were better person, he’d take pity on you for being so fucking stupid.

“Promise, little sis.” He shoots you a wink as he tucks himself back into his jeans.

Before he’s left your room he’s already sent the picture to his friend, Shigaraki.

[bokutoslittlebird]

Awakened

Alpha!Osamu x reader x Alpha!Atsumu

Author’s note : Fantasy AU based on two pieces of fan art of the twins as fox yōkai, but I hope it’s to your liking! ; their names are never directly said to reader-chan, so their names are what they call each other.

Warnings: bullying (brief, not from the twins), naive and innocent reader, knotting, double penetration, backshot, face fucking/blowjob, dubcon/noncon, blood, biting and licking, cunnilingus, creampie

There’s a legend that runs deep in the roots of your village, one that’s told to many and encourages children to stay away from the forest. It was proven effective — no child dared to enter the forest, holding onto that fear into their adult years. The legend revolves around two mischievous fox spirits that would always be in competition. They always had someone who would win, but then a terribly evil spirit came upon the clearing they played in, forcing the two spirits to push differences aside and fight off the evil spirit that entered the territory. It was a combined effort, the two spirits realizing they worked better when they worked together. It taught children that sometimes it was better to ask for help; however, it also taught children that they couldn’t go into the forest. The spirits resides in the forest, protecting the village from evil spirits as a combined task and if anyone dared trespass in their forest, then destruction would come to the village.

It was a legend some teenagers dared to challenge, entering the forest and coming out, saying “nothing bad happened to them!” but then their luck would turn sour sometimes. It always put things in perspective, seeing them suddenly fall into a mud puddle after entering the forest, or having their pants suddenly fall. It made people laugh, but it really made you feel like the forest was alive and watching. You never dared to go near the forest. At least, not until your pride was at stake.

“Go get a stupid stick, [Y/N]!” Jocelyn sneered, her eyes narrowed. Her arms were crossed and she was tired to repeating herself. You were dared to go into the forest, get a stick to bring back for proof, and you would no longer be a coward. It was simple in words, but not so simple in action. You feared the bad things that happened after people entered the forest, but you were considered a coward for those beliefs. “You’re just a big, dumb baby!”

“No I’m not!” You shouted back, puffing your cheeks. You let out a heavy breath and turned to the brown and green image of the forest. They wouldn’t be able to see you enter the forest, but they just needed a stick as proof. Sucking up the courage to go, your legs moved towards the foliage. You could hear the other girls’ jeers as your pace slowed, the forest closer than you had ever dared to let it. The forest itself looked peaceful, but the legend of the spirits scared you, halting your footsteps. Instead of going in, you were going to pick up a stick on the outskirts, but there was no stick. Nothing but grass lay before you, the shadows of the trees outlining what was the forest and what was not. There was a stick you could see, the light seeping through the leaves illuminating it as if you were on a quest to get — well, you kind of were.

Sucking up any inhibitions you had, you entered the forest. Picking up the stick, you noticed a lack of any other stick lying in the fallen leaves. Clutching the stick to your chest, you turn to go when you find a small piece of cloth, hidden in the leaves. You pick it up, looking at the designs and feeling how soft and silky it was. It was a robe that your ancestors adorned, but the fabric told you it was either brand new or kept in pristine condition. With it in your hands, you found yourself turning to flee once again. The howling of the wind sent your legs running out of the forest and up the hill, as fast as you could. If you had listened closer, you would have heard the howl of a beast as you fled.

Deeper into the forest, a pair of eyes watched as you obtained the stick and plucked the ceremonial robe from the earth he presented to you. When you chose it and fled, he smiled. His eyes turned from your retreating figure and moved to leap from the tree he perched himself on. As his body was that of a grey fox, he was much better at hiding than if he was in his more human form. Transitioning between into his human form, he smiles once more, a finger on his chin.

“What to offer her next, I wonder?” He ponders aloud, with only the wind around to hear him and carry his voice.

Your lungs are burning as you arrive back at the little picnic you were attending, the girls giggling as you finally come back. “Did ya see a ghost or somethin’?” Akira asks. You’re heaving as you present the stick, perfectly in tact and big enough to feed a fire. Everyone’s cheers are perceived as mocking to you, as you move on. The picnic is no longer something you want to attend, instead preferring to take a bath and sleep. With your worries placed on the forest and the spirits within, you find yourself wondering if you’ll be able to sleep or shall an entity come and judge you for trespassing.

The next day, you find your gaze drawn to the forest, as if it calls you down. Ignoring the calls are hard, you legs involuntarily moving as you think. On the edge of the forest, you see inside to find a small temari ball. It looks as if a young child once played with it, as you get closer to the object. Looking around the forest, you expect to see a child lost or crying, but you find nothing. With the lack of an owner, you decide to leave the ball. Turning to leave, you reprimand yourself for entering the forest again.

The sound of leaves rustling has you swiveling around, almost falling over when you realize the temari is following you. Moving back, it continues to follow you. A quick glance around proves that no one else is around, so you pick up the temari. As you did yesterday, you flew out of the forest and hope you didn’t take a malevolent being’s toy.

Another pair of eyes watch as you flee, his temari offering close to your chest. A wickedly mischievous grin spreads upon his lips, his form emerging from the shadows where he was hidden. With sharp canines peeking from his smile, warm brown eyes look to the path you had just taken. “I’m glad she likes her present. I can’t wait for what tomorrow will bring,” he chuckles, moving further into the forest. With each step he takes, a thick fog permeates the forest floor, providing a barrier past the stream.

You don’t know what it is. The growing urge to enter the forest gets stronger as the day continues on, the urge barely quenched upon nightfall. Even in your bed chambers, you find yourself looking through your open window, into the forest. Mist seeps from the greenery, an ominous feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. A howl from the forest startles you, eyes finding the gaze reflecting back at you. As you hold the gaze, feeling yourself rooted in place, another set of eyes joins. You shut the window, deciding to never go back to the forest.

When morning comes, the feeling of needing to go to the forest is even stronger. Feeling ill from the image of last night, you decide to stay home for the day. When a knock comes to your door, you assume it to be the milk delivery. Upon opening the door, your eyes widen at the two boys on your doorstep.

“Can you go get my ball?” The first one says, a bright smile on his face. The one currently sniffling nods in agreement. They look like twins, not that you’d recognize them.

“I didn’t mean to kick it so hard, please don’t tell my dad!” He cries out, holding onto his brother. You smile warmly at him, getting to eye level. Running your hand through his hair, his sniffles lessen.

“I won’t tell anyone, you’re fine. I’ll be right back,” you smile at him, wiping his tears. You shut the door, telling them to stay put as you go searching for the ball. As you look around, you become confused. Where is the ball? Moving further along your backyard, you hear a hushed whisper from the forest, wide eyes turning to sound. With an apology already on your lips, you turn to enter your house when you find yourself unable to move. As if an invisible barrier prevents you from progressing towards your house — which seems proven true as you inch towards the forest and suddenly cannot go back to where you were. With the unsettling pit in your stomach, you enter the forest once more.

Entering, you find the mist from before still evident, yet it parts for you. Curiosity sets in as you are further urged into the forest, stopping as you hear water trickling. A stream lays in front of you, waters more calm than your heart beat. You inhale, deciding to risk it as you wade through the stream. The water seeps into your shoes, the bottom of your dress becoming saturated. Progressing further into the mist, now a heavy fog, you find a large temple inside. It’s stable and perfectly standing, as if it isn’t centuries old. The two erected statues tell you the temple belongs to the spirits of the legend, finding a chill run through your blood as you realize your situation. Before you step foot onto the stairs, you turn to leave but are halted.

“Where do you think yer goin’?” A rough voice speaks. You whip around to see a tall, but handsome man. The hair is a dark grey color, eyes to match. What stuns you is the pair of grey fox ears, a tail that matches in color swishing behind him. His clothes remind you of the robe you found amongst the leaves.

“I-I’m terribly sorry, really!” You begin to plea, pulling on your wrist. “I-I didn’t mean to- to trespass!”

“What’d’ya mean? This is your home, y’know?” He seems genuinely confused, another stun to your body as his words settle. Home? This temple? Before you can refute him, another voice joins in.

“Ah, ‘Samu, I told ya humans are different. They don’t know the offering ritual, but I made sure to get our offerings. Our silly little human forgot about them,” he chuckles, looking at you. With the robe you found on one arm, the temari in his hand. “This was my offering, you know,” he gestures to the ball. “A precious item to me, it is. I’m glad you took care of it and cleaned it up. What a perfect little wife you’ll make,” his grin makes his words more sinister than they originally were. Fear spikes through your veins, your limbs suddenly shaking as you feel your legs give out. The one dubbed ‘Samu catches you, holding you bridal style as you find yourself hesitant to hold onto his robes.

“‘Tsumu, y’know I’m not watching humans like you do. That’s weird,” he cringes, nose scrunching up in disgust. ‘Tsumu seemed to get ticked off at that, growling. Only then did you notice how animal-like the both of them were, sporting fox ears and a tail to match. While ‘Samu had dark grey, ‘Tsumu spotted a saturated yellow hair color and slightly lighter ears and tail. So caught up in the view, you didn’t notice that the brothers has started walking, heading towards the temple.

“W-Wait, I can’t go with you! I’m— I’m not who you’re looking for!” Sputtering out the first things to pop into your mind, the two don’t stop.

“Of course yer who we’re looking for! You’re meant for us, meant to know your place with us. After all, why else would enter our domain, smelling so delicious as you do?”

“Smell— what?”

“‘Tsumu, stop bein’ cryptic. He’s saying you entered the forest during your heat cycle,”

“Well, ovulation in humans. Apparently, they’re not like us special spirits,”

“You’re ready for us, we can smell it. You’ll be the perfect mate for us to breed,” although ‘Samu seemed uninterested, you could feel how his chest seemed to heave as he inhaled deeply. The growling accompanying his final word sent slick between your folds as you held onto him close, afraid of falling.

Arriving at the top of the temple, you saw a cot that has been lain out, the soft cushioning big enough for the three of you. The sight of it had your brain going into overdrive, panicking as you attempted to leave ‘Samu’s arms. He complied, but his hands stayed firmly on your hips. “Time to get dressed,”

Before you could ask for an explanation, your clothes were practically torn off of you. Blood spilled onto your ripped dress, your side burning from where the claws caught you. The shreds fell to the temple floor, your hands flying to cover the exposed skin. While one hand covered the area between your legs, your arm held your breasts close to your chest. ‘Samu clicked his tongue, easily removing your hands from your body while ‘Tsumu slid on the robe, his claws lightly grazing your skin. He didn’t hide the fact he was admiring the view, either, his dark eyes gazing over each inch of skin you presented to him. Once the robe was on, you were released from ‘Samu’s hold, left to cover yourself up with the fabric. You’d deny it aloud, but the robe fit you perfectly.

“You’re gorgeous,” ‘Tsumu growled, shedding his own robe. Your hands came in front of you, hoping to somehow deter him when ‘Samu brought you backwards, to the cot presented. ‘Tsumu wasn’t far behind, dropping to his knees while you lay against the cot. It was softer than expected, more plush than it looks. ‘Samu had stripped of his own clothes, his robe hanging loosely on him by the ribbon around his waist. ‘Tsumu was different, his robe open and letting you see every inch of skin, but his arms still through the sleeves as if he was cold.

“I don’t—“ you began, your words interrupted by ‘Samu’s lips on yours, his tongue brushing against your closed lips as he deepened the kiss. ‘Tsumu’s touches had begun to litter your thighs, spreading your legs as he inhaled deeply. A finger touching your entrance had you jumping, only to be held firmly down by ‘Samu’s hands.

“You’re so wet, it’s hard to hold back,” ‘Tsumu growls out, his tongue lapping at your folds. You squirm and make a noise of displeasure, but ‘Samu is there to keep your focus on his lips and kisses. The more he kisses you, the hotter your body gets and the more you feel your resistance melt away. ‘Tsumu has his face between your thighs, licking and sucking on your clit, claws digging into the skin. It has you clenching around nothing, the hot pleasure from his tongue and burning sensation on your thighs. It isn’t until he removes himself from between your legs do you feel relaxed and at ease, as if your body is jelly. Your resistance is no more, a small whine coming from you when ‘Samu and ‘Tsumu remove themselves to admire their handiwork.

It’s a sudden change, the relaxing touches and breathless kisses are gone, replaced by the feverish touches of both men as they paw and scratch at your skin, ‘Samu’s teeth sinking into hot skin and lapping at the blood while ‘Tsumu presses less destructive kisses to your neck. With the air much too hot for your liking, a breathless moan leaves your lips when ‘Tsumu pulls your head back by your hair, spitting into your mouth and then kissing you. With his tongue tracing your teeth and his growls being swallowed up by your mouth, you’re oblivious to ‘Samu. With his cock in one hand, he kneads your thigh with his other hand as he rubs along your folds.

“‘Tsumu, move off,” ‘Samu growls, pushing the fox spirit off of you, his large frame colliding with the wooden planks of the temple. You find yourself on your hands and knees, ass in the air while the robe is promptly stripped off of you, lain underneath you. ‘Samu licks his lips, lining himself up with you entrance while ‘Tsumu gets his balance back. The first press in has you screaming, but it isn’t just because he’s big. His thickness is something you never expected, but with his calloused hands on your hips, bringing you back into his hips with no regards to adjusting you. A guttural groan comes from ‘Samu, head thrown back as he basks in the pleasure of being buried in your cunt. ‘Tsumu is now back to you, his hard cock in front of your face.

With another rough thrust, one that has you practically bouncing off ‘Samu’s cock, ‘Tsumu has you wrapping your lips around his. You can’t take it all in, that’d be impossible. With a pair of hands on your hips, you’re brought to ‘Samu while the pair of hands tangled in your hair pulls you towards ‘Tsumu. Lips pressed firmly against ‘Tsumu’s cock as your tongue runs under the length, running over the bulging veins and ridges you find. Your eyes are screwed shut, unable to stay open while ‘Samu splits you on his cock, somehow forcing himself deeper and deeper inside of you. It isn’t until you’re finally bouncing flush against him do you feel something strange on his cock. It’s only then do you open your eyes, looking at ‘Tsumu’s cock that has a large bulb at the base of it, growing in size the more you suck on him. Hollowing out you cheeks has ‘Tsumu groaning, claws digging into your scalp as he forces himself down your throat. He doesn’t force the bulb in your throat, thankfully, but he does coat your throat in his cum.

“Your mouth is fucking hot, little human. It’s like you were made to take us,” he breathes out, panting. You’re coughing, feeling Samu’s thrusts speed up as he brings you close to him, but he pulls out at the last moment to spill all over your back.

“With our scent on you, you’ll be stuck by our side until you pass,” ‘Samu is in a similar situation, chest heaving as you’re flipped over. You’re then placed on ‘Tsumu’s lap, his cock rubbing between your folds as he grinds into you. “But we’ll take you together first,”

“So no hard feelings, right ‘Samu?”

“Right, ‘Tsumu,” the agree, Tsumu’s cock rubbing into you and then prodding at your drooling cunt. He slips the tip in, the feeling similar to ‘Samu’s thick cock. Speaking of ‘Samu, he’s quick to stick his own tip back in, stretching you out farther then you expected. A silent scream comes from you as tears spill down your cheeks, both of them thrusting into you as your cunt burns.

Split open on their cocks, you’re helpless. Nails digging into ‘Samu’s shoulders as his hands once more find themselves on your hips. ‘Tsumu’s hands are keeping your legs spread, the view of you sucking in both their cocks on display as they thrusts in tandem. When one pulls out, the other thrusts in and vice versa. The rhythm they set is one that works, their lips finding opposite sides on your neck to kiss and lick, teeth grazing the skin. You feel a buildup of your own orgasm as they plow into you, your walls squeezing them as they pick up the pace. Their rhythm gets sloppy, short growls from each as their bulbs start to grow again.

When ‘Tsumu sinks his teeth into you, your scream is one of pleasure as you reach your high, coating both of their cocks a milky white cream, the liquid falling to their base and dripping down. ‘Samu sinks his teeth into your skin on the opposite side as they both push into your tight cunt, a scream and shiver running through you as the do, their bulbs inflating inside to stretch you even more.

You’re completely stuck, their cocks inside you as they lap at your wounds. It’s only when you squirm do they start talking. “You’ll get used to it,”

“After all we have a week,”

“You’ll be able to take our knots with no problem,”

“All your holes will be used to taking us,”

Their words don’t ease you concern, but the fact that once they leave your warm cunt, they’re still hard and readying you for round two. The heat encompassing your body refuses to leave, their skin as sweaty and hot as yours. With their relentless stamina and obsession with pumping all their seed into you, you’re positive you’ll get pregnant.

[kpopluvrsblog]

I got you princess

Requested: may i please request for a jealous bsf mark where he sees y/n getting wasted in the club (because she saw mark getting close with the popular girl) and she's with yeonjun so he drags her out and they fight but end up confessing to each other.. i hope that isn't confusing haha thanks !

Genre: angst + fluff, smut!

Pairing: mark x fem!reader

Warnings: SMUT! Dom!mark x sub!fem!reader, unprotected sex ( uak the drill ), reader goes somewhat into subspace at the end, creampie , kind of rough sex, slight masturbation suggestive dancing, swearing, use of the word slut

A/n: this is so long,,, SORRY I ADDED SMUT i cant help myself when it comes to mark... if anyone doesn’t want to read that part it is at the end!!

You slam your locker shut, sighing loudly as “those two” pass by murmuring amongst themselves. By “those two” you mean mark and little miss popular. It’s not that you were popular but of course everyone loves miss perfect aka Jen and they can’t see through her facade. “Me and mark used to be like that..” you whispered to yourself.

“HEY Y/N” someome suddenly screamed in your ear. “YEONJUN!! oh my,,, you scared me!” You whined and smacked his arm lightly, making him chuckle to himself. “ Mmm sooo how’s your little crush on mark going? He seems to be all over jen today...” yeonjun asked with a face of concern.

“ oh a little?” Your eyebrows shot up with sarcasm. “Honestly, its... ever since they’ve gotten closer, she’s got him wrapped around her finger. Its as if me and mark had never been friends.” You look off to the side and scoffed at how whiny you sounded.

“No no no y/n... thats it!! I am not letting you sulk over this loser. He doesn’t understand anything.” He rolled his eyes before continuing “ we need to go out!!” He said happily. “ go where exactly?” You questioned as you grabbed his hand and started to walk to the exit of the school. “ go clubbing!!” Yeonjun said excitedly.

‘Clubbing huh... that doesn’t sound too bad!’ You thought in your head. “ alright clubbing it is!!”

That leads to where you are now. Looking at yourself in the mirror, wearing a burgundy fitting dress which made all of your curves stand out and matched it with burgundy heels as well. You have done light makeup with a black winged liner and added diamond jewelry pieces.

“DAMN y/n... baby you look GREAT!! wow you look so good i-“ yeonjun cut himself off when he reached up to his mouth and wiped off his drool, his actions making you laugh. “Stop!! Lets just go!” You said while laughing. You noticed his attire matches yours. He was wearing a burgundy suit as well which complimented him so well. “You look really good too though...” you smiled brightly at him as he grabbed your hand, thanking you with a blush on his face and brought you to his car.

The drive to the club was around 30 minutes. Yeonjun had found a club or as he called it “ the best club you’ll ever go to” and insisted that you both go there for the night. He said he wouldn’t drink so he could be your DD ( designated driver).

——————————————————————————

Your mouth dropped open when he pulled into the private parking lot for the club. “Yeonjun this is..” you trailed off in awe. “Amazing. I know.” He finished the sentence for you. “alright, in we go!!” He jumped excitedly.

As you walked to the large glass double doors. The bright lights and blaring music became clearer. You could see the many people that were occupied inside. Yeonjun said something to the security man standing outside, which u didn’t understand since you were too busy admiring the place, but before you knew it he was leading you inside.

“ALRIGHT, drinks first baby we gotta get you to loosen up before we get started.” He shouted over the music and the yells of the other people as he brought you to the bar. When he talked to the barista you started to scan the crowd of unfamiliar faces, smiling at the sight of everyone having fun. Suddenly you furrowed your eyebrows... ‘was that mark?? What was he doing here... wait, jen is... dancing on him.. woah, okay.’ Your thoughts ended as yeonjun poked your side and handed the shot glass to you “ thanks” you smiled at him and chugged the drink, feeling the hot liquid slide down your throat, leaving a slight burn.

“Agh” you winced at the flavor causing yeonjun to chuckle. “Its good huh?” He smirked. You turned back to the barista, “excuse me!! Can you give me the strongest shot you got?!” You questioned with a smirk. “Challenge accepted” the barista laughed and went to mix you up a drink. If mark can have fun why can’t you?? It’s time to get over him.. he’s obviously taken. “Is that mark here??! What the fuck man!!” Yeonjun shouted with a look of pure disgust when he saw who was attached to him.

“Y/n lets go! We’re going to go dance and show him what he’s missing!!” He looked back over to you just in time to see you take the mystery shot. “Damn that shits strong” you croaked and laughed when you saw yeonjun smiling at you.

He pulled your hand through the crowd of bodies and brought you to an open spot. Already feeling the alcohol take its place you started to dance with yeonjun wrapping your hands around his neck as he placed his hands on your hips. You smiled up at him and turned around in his grip, bending fowards slightly, now grinding your ass up against his bulge with his hands still groping your hips as he grinds into you.

You stood back up, still moving your hips and reached your arms over your shoulders to hold onto the back of his neck lightly. You looked up and met a gaze of who you completely forgot about. Jen was no where to be seen and mark was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, biting his lip harshly and glaring at the man groping you. Yeonjun leaned down slightly to press a light kiss to your neck and thats when mark broke.

One second you were dancing with jun and the next someone was leading you to a secluded place of this club. “WHAT the fuck are you doing mark!!! Let me go!!” You shouted as he pulled you into one of the empty backrooms. “Shut up.” Is all he said while he went to block you from leaving the room. “Shut up?!! What do you mean shut up!! Ive been shutting up since you decided to ignore me for the schools slut!!” You shouted at him trying to push him out of your way.

“HEY!! She is not a slut first of all-“ you cut him off with a slap to his face making him stare at you in shock. “Not a slut?? Mark where do you think she ran off to huh?! You think you were the only guy shes been talking too?! What a dumbass... im leaving now.” You declared waiting for him to move out of your way.

“Y/n... listen-” Mark started. “No!! I don’t want some pity apology to leave your mouth! I want to leave and never see you again.” You stated with your arms crossed until mark suddenly pulled you into his chest, arms wrapped tightly around you, as if he let go it would cause you to disappear. “ what the- Let me go!!” You mumbled into his suit.

You heard him sniffle and now realized that he was crying... a lot. Even though he is a dumbass you can’t help your feelings for him. “Listen y/n... im so so sorry that i pushed you away. I just- oh my gosh. I love you y/n... so very much that I unintentionally pushed you away and when i noticed how close you were to yeonjun, i thought that i could never treat you like how he does, i could never make you happy and i KNEW THAT. When jen started to pay attention to me, i thought i could take my mind off of you and that you would have a better life without me in it. I know how she is y/n... but my jealousy got the better of me. The reason why she left just now is because I wasn’t paying attention to her. How could i when you were standing so beautifully in front of me... and thats when i noticed that i couldn’t get over you, especially with yeonjun touching all over you when that could’ve been me if i tried and i- hmmph“

He was talking too much... his words making tears rolls down your face, soaking up into his suit. You leaned up to press your lips tightly against his. His body stiffened when your lips touched his... they were so soft. He quickly loosened up and hugged you tighter, his lips now moving with yours as you continued to make out. After a few minutes you pulled apart, a string connected between you both, chests heaving. You knew you looked like a mess but mark still looked down at you with so much love.

“First of all your still a dumbass...” you whispered, causing mark to giggle. “ I’ve never stopped loving you, me and yeonjun are just friends and he knows about my crush on you. But when you started ignoring me.. wow it hurt so bad and it pains me to admit that. I was so jealous that I couldn’t be with you-“ mark cut you off with another peck. “Mark let me finish!!” You blushed trying to pry him off of you.

“No i already know where this is going... im sorry for being a fucking idiot but i really do love you and i hope you can forgive me.” He said while letting a few more tears out.

“Okay no more crying!! Of course i forgive you and I obviously still love you too... you’re lucky you only ignored me for around a month though...” you trailed off into a fit of giggles. “Lets leave this place y/n, ill tell yeonjun whats going on and ill take you to my place to get you cleaned up okay??” Mark said while caressing your hair lovingly. “Mhm lets go!”

——————————————————————————

《smut starts》

After some time, you and mark had finally arrived at his house. “Ahhh okay here we are.” He sighed when he pulled into his driveway. “ okay lets get you cleaned up hmm?” He questioned when you both entered his house. Too tired to answer you hummed an answer back hoping he would understand, of course he did. Having already been here many times before, you remember where everything is which made it easier to navigate through his home. “Lets take off these shoes first, i bet your feet hurt so bad right now.” He pouted and sat you down on his couch, leaning down to take off each heel and lightly massaging your sore feet. “ it’s alright you can close your eyes baby ill take care of you.” Mark then leaned up to peck your lips one last time to hear you mumble “ thanks baby i lovveee you hmm” you then closed your eyes and felt him pick you up, bridal style and bring you into his bathroom. He took off your jewelry and placed them safely in the cabinet. He then proceeded to remove any excess of makeup that you had left on your face.

He was debating whether or not he should bathe you, as you probably feel gross. Since you had not fallen asleep yet, you decided that you wanted to be clean. “Baby you can bathe me its okay. I trust you.” You said softly, making mark smile at your cuteness. “Alright, im going to undress you now, lift your arms up for me.” You did as you were told, he took the snug dress off of your body, leaving you in your matching lace bra and panties... he couldnt help but get turned on. He thought your body was outstanding. Mark shook his head lightly trying to get out of his thoughts, you, now with your eyes open, noticed his actions and smirked. “Whatcha looking at?” You questioned innocently while looking down at your body.

“I uh- uhm oh yeah ill start the bath” he blushed and moved to the tub, now filling it up with hot water. The alcohol had mostly wore off now, since you hadn’t drank a lot. You started to unclip your bra and pull off your panties. “Mark can you help me in the tub please” you asked. You both knew you were capable of getting in yourself but nonetheless he grabbed your hips and set you softly into the tub.

“Dont you want to get clean too?” You asked and pulled lightly on the bottom of his tie. He smirked at your request and pecked your cheek. “Let me go get clothes for us to change into and ill be right back.” When he walked out you couldn’t help but notice his hard on. God he was so hot.

You knew you had some time. Whats the harm in just touching yourself a little? You fingers slowly trailed down to your clit and you slowly rubbed circles on the sensitive nub, letting your head fall back and small moans pour out from your mouth. “Having fun without me?” Mark asked with his clothes off and standing in the doorway, his hard dick on display. Where did this Confidence come from? He came up to the tub and lifted you out now patting you dry and emptying the tub.

“Do you really want this?” He looked you in the eyes as he asked this. “Yes i really want this please” you answered and bit your lip. “We’ll bathe after this then okay?” He didnt give you time to answer as he picked you up and brought you out of the bathroom straight into his room. He placed you gently on top of his bed sheets, luckily there was a thick blanket on top that he had layed out, so now the sheets won’t be dirty.

You pulled him on top of you and trapped him between your legs as you made out with him, lightly sucking and pulling on his lips, with your hand running through his soft disheveled hair. He groaned into your mouth as the tip of his dick brushed against your slick entrance. “Just put it in im wet enough and i really need you i cant wait please please please- OH” you moaned aloud as he followed your requests. His thick dick now stretching out your tiny pussy. 

“Fuck baby your so tight for me, damn you feel so good. Does it feel good for you baby?” He whimpered into the crook of your neck as he pushed your thighs apart farther, his hips now pressed tightly against yours. “It- um.. mmh” you already couldn’t form a sentence...

He chuckled and put his hand under your head, now holding you even closer. “Fuck.. m- mm move please” you whimpered. You were so sensitive and felt so full with him pressing against your cervix. He slowly pulled out and pushed back in, which made you gasp and clench even more, making it hard for him to move. “Loosen up for me hm? Let me fuck you properly. Show you how its done baby” you followed his orders and let him keep hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. “A- ah keep going” you let out gasps and moans as he was now pounding into you. Mark was breathing heavily as he sucked marks onto your pretty delicate skin.

He snaked a hand down to rub on the nub you were playing with earlier. “Feel good?” He questioned and got a moan in response. He knew you were close by how you started to clench uncontrollably. “Im gonna cum shit im going to-“ you stopped your rant when he went even harder than before, you could feel him in your stomach. “I know baby. Cum. Cum all over me and make a mess. I got you.”

“FU-“ your orgasm was so hard that you went silent as your eyes rolled back, nails leaving streaks on his back. “Fuck y/n im cumming” he came inside of you with long hot ropes shooting into the deepest parts of your body, filling you up to the brim with warmth. You both came down together... only mark came down actually. “You’re okay princess. You did so good. Come back down to me, im waiting” mark whispered to you as he pulled out of you slowly, watching a white mess come gushing out of you. “Mmhm i did good?” You asked with a whimper while holding onto your stomach, feeling full. “Yes princess, so so good for me. Im going to bathe you and change you now okay? You can sleep, i know you’re tired.” After hearing his words you fell into a deep sleep knowing that he would take care of you.

——————————————————————————

You woke up with the feeling of being wrapped in warmth. You groaned as you turned around in marks hold, now facing his angelic sleeping face...’ he looks so at peace’ you thought. You also noticed that he dressed you in an oversized sweatshirt of his and gave you a pair of his boxers to wear. He really did clean and take care of you last night huh...his grip tightened around you and you left a soft kiss to his lips as you fell back into your slumber with a smile, knowing that you were definitely going to spend your life with this man.

[wh6res]

taeyong — part of the my bloody valentine collection.

prompt. when your soulmate gets a wound or cut, flowers bloom on the same spot in your body.

synopsis. you’re desperate to meet your soulmate. maybe you can put a stop to the flowers stubbornly blooming on your wrists.

warnings. tread cautiously. mentions of mental illness (depression, attempted suicide), swearing, manipulation, implied self-harm, dubious content, forced relationship, unconsensual touching near the end, ty pulling the sadboi agenda

disclaimer. a friendly reminder that i do not, under any circumstance, condone or support any acts like this. this is not love and this is not how a normal relationship should be like. the things i write are all fiction and should be treated as such and if you don’t like it, please do not read it and waste your time hating on it. the 9 members of nct 127 do not act like this in real life and shouldn’t act like this in real life.

by the time you’re graduating high school, you’re used to the sorry glances people sent your way. 

for someone so young, you have more flowers blooming on your skin than any adult. a few small pieces of it blooming in the corner of your cheek, near the jawline. a few of them on your thighs. 

but the most concerning piece is the one on your wrists that are fully covered by the flowers, your skin nowhere to be seen with all the lilies of the valley tainting your skin. 

yet the worse has got to be the summer before senior year. you had been halfway done with the college entrance examination for a local university. your parents said the pain you felt the first time will turn into a mild itch whenever the flowers form on your skin. 

it started small, absentmindedly scratching at something on your neck. initially, you thought it was the heat, your sweat, and the fabric of your clothes irritating the sensitive skin. but when you walked up to the proctor to turn in your exam, you knew that apologetic stare like nothing else—but his eyes had flickered down to your neck. 

when your friends blew up your phone, asking where you are to celebrate, you lied and headed straight back home, head ducked, collars upturned, hiding the lilies of the valley wrapped around your throat like some insignia. 

a year later, you end up studying soulmate theory in university. they say it’s a useless course as there can be no scientific explanation to soulmates. you like thinking you chose the course because of sheer interest but really, you’re just finding an explanation, some external reason that probably bore no results but you trudged forward anyway. 

you’re restless in the pursuit of finding him—or her, you couldn’t care less. the hurt you feel weighs heavy in your heart each time you feel them blooming on your wrist, mind plagued with worry. 

your roommate interrupts your deep thinking as she practically throws herself onto your bed. “i have an idea!” she cheers, determined. “why not part-time in the school clinic? that way if people come in, you can compare their cuts to your flowers.”

“now, you just might be onto something there.”

the hunt for your soulmate still wasn’t easy despite working in the university’s clinic and it only got worse each day. your schedule is killing you, you’re slightly getting behind in some subjects, and you practically live in the library. 

contrary to popular opinions, soulmate theory can be a fucking bitch to study about. what with learning psychology, astrology, and botany all together. it was interesting how all these things can be factors in how people are paired to become soulmates. interesting, but rather complicated in a sense, too. 

they say psychology and astrology dealt with two people’s compatibility. while botany, the meanings of the flowers themselves, was theorized to predict how the soulmate connection will affect their relationship—ultimately, roses were a really, really good sign. 

you have been busy messing up your hair, utterly frustrated and irate—astronomy’s messing with your head and you can’t go a minute without scratching your wrists as the flowers bloomed after the other. 

then something unexpected happened. 

a lanky guy dressed in an all-black ensemble walked into the clinic. well, it was more of a being carried between two guys by the arms rather than walked in. everything about his clothes looked way too big to fit his delicate frame and it hardly looked like it was for fashion style purposes. his skin hugged his body to the bone, eyes sunken, and he looked so frail that a tiny shove would’ve sent him sprawled on the floor. 

his name was taeyong and he lied on the bed unconscious, with handkerchiefs wrapped around his wrists like bandages—courtesy of his friends, who looked deathly worried for the fate of their poor friend. if he had lost any more blood, he would’ve died. you had never seen the clinic in such chaos, people running around, anxious. your leg muscles were sore from going back and forth from the nurse’s side to the cabinets storing all the medical supplies she needed. 

it had been a whirlwind, and after your superior had patched and properly bandaged his cuts, you were left to look after him in the meantime as nurse jung tried contacting his guardian. 

his friends—who you learned were named yuta and jaehyun, were snoozing outside on the bench across the hall, parallel with the clinic’s double-glass door, as they waited for their friend to wake up. 

depression. suicidal. taeyong has been like that for his whole life, jaehyun stated earlier. you can only shoot a sorry look at the unconscious boy lying on the hospital bed. 

it had already been dark outside when you came in to switch out his bandages for new ones—only to realize that his cut is exactly where you had been scratching earlier before he showed up. 

you retracted, unbelieving of what that possibly entails. along the way, you’ve pieced together that your soulmate is probably struggling through something heavy, something that weighed him down so much that it made him believe hurting himself is the only solution, what with all the flowers on your skin. 

“it’s him…” you mumble, wide eyed as you eyed the faded scars around his wrists, eerily aligned to the flowers blooming on your own. 

you didn’t want to overwhelm him, that much was sure. you didn’t want to chase him away if he gets uncomfortable. so for weeks you started leaving anonymous notes in his locker. not the sappy love letter types, just little words of encouragement that could make his day better. 

when their friend breaks out into the tiniest of smiles, yuta and jaehyun’s thankful eyes would scour around the halls. sneakily looking for you behind taeyong’s back. they understood where you’re coming from and hadn’t spoken a word of disagreement when you told them you didn’t plan to make yourself known as his soulmate yet. 

and as if the notes were not enough, you start giving him his favorite starbucks drink every now and then—on days the flowers didn’t bloom as much as it normally would. you turn up half an hour early before lectures so you can place it on the table where he usually sits with his two best friends. even if his class is on the other side of campus, you’d still go. 

but it only took three weeks of creeping around until you’re caught by your soulmate himself. 

“do you want something from me?”

you didn’t know what to say, cat got your tongue as you stood before him holding the drink. you couldn’t weasel your way out and say the drink’s yours, not when he caught you standing before his usual seat, not when you were already leaning forward to place it on his desk.

“uhm… i…” you stutter pathetically, not being able to meet the intensity of his eyes. 

“jaehyun and yuta aren’t exactly the most lowkey, especially with how much their eyes wander when i open my locker. so, do you want something from me? what are you playing at, stalker?”

the name he called you stung like a bitch but you can’t blame him for it. you knew him, he doesn’t know you. you’re giving him gifts anonymously. even if they were all from the goodness of your heart, from an outsider’s view, your actions still appeared sketchy.

“soulmate,” you correct him. 

you watch his features twist into confusion, only for it to morph into shock once he’s digested what you just said. eventually, he schools his expression back to indifference. his stoic face is so intimidating, you thought, biting your bottom lip and fidgeting on your toes. 

“what?”

“i’m your—i’m your soulmate.”

his eyes flicker downwards to peak a glance at the bouquet of flowers painted on your skin. colors as beautiful and vibrant as the day you got them, the stems of the bell-shaped flowers intricately woven into each other. for a split second, you even twist your arms a little, showing him the rock hard proof of your claim. 

ever since you found him, you’ve always contemplated for the better part of your limited free time about what his reaction will be when he finds out you two are soulmates. will he accept you? or worse case scenario, pretend you didn’t exist? the possibilities are unknown especially with someone who seems to be going through so much that the last thing they wanted is this person who thinks they’re entitled to be part of their lives because the universe made it be that way. 

not that you feel entitled… taeyong can reject you all he wants and you’ll give him the space he needs—

he’s crying. 

and not the simple, small tears slowly streaming down his face one by one type of crying, no, his tears were an onslaught. full-on sobbing as he threw himself onto you, wrapping his arms tight around your shoulders as he buried his face into your neck, words heavily muffled by your coat. 

“is it—” he hiccups. “true?”

you blink, from all the reactions you’ve gone through in your head, crying was the very last thing you expected from him—crying and hugging you like you’re the last person on earth and he’s been touch-starved until he found you. 

maybe that was the case. 

you wonder what jaehyun and yuta felt whenever taeyong ditched them to spend time with you—and that was pretty much all the time since he’s found you. he’s like a puppy, following you around wherever you go (unless he has classes) and had been neglecting his friends. whether it was intentional or not, whether his two friends were cool with it or not, you don’t know. 

you try your best to smile every time he runs up to you on the other end of the hall, spotting you coming out of your own respective classroom after lectures are done. 

he’s beaming like a child, inviting you to this cafe he wants to take you to—and pathetic ‘lil ‘ol you just can’t seem to say no to those huge expecting eyes.

but you’re not blind to the slight scowl on yuta’s face nor the razor sharp smile on jaehyun’s features. they want to hang out together, just boys, but now there’s this soulmate who’s suddenly more important than them—what happened to bros before hoes?

but they knew taeyong needed you. heck, he never once smiled like the way he did before he met you. it was like he’s become this whole new person with a child-like innocence reflecting his eyes. 

“so?” your soulmate prompts just as his two friends came over, flanking him. 

taeyong deflates the moment he sees the hesitance in your eyes. “uhm… i actually have a shift in the clinic, and nurse jung said the clinic isn’t some hang out place, so you can’t, uhh…” you trail, not wanting to finish the sentence. 

a little white lie can’t hurt anyone, right? 

taeyong shouldn’t depend on you all the time, not when he also has friends who care about his well-being and mental health just as much as you do. being soulmates didn’t mean he has to spend every waking moment with you and the faster he realizes, the better. 

when you dashed away before he could even mutter out a reply, you miss the frown on his face, his eyes never once leaving your frame until you turned the corner. 

people often favor the underdog. they have this gnawing urge in their gut to sympathize and unknowingly root for their own plot twist or happy ending. 

people look at you and your soulmate and think you have poor, suicidal and depressed and sad taeyong eating at the palm of your hand, following you around like a lonely duckling—the undeniable underdog in a coming-of-age movie, the person shoved around until some bigger, more capable person comes to their rescue (in this case you, unfortunately).

but appearances have always been deceiving. 

your little 3-week head start with getting to know your soulmate had only been on surface-level. you just wanted to help him but taeyong’s obvious attraction—can you even call it that? you’d like to think it’s more of infatuation—is off-putting for you. from standing way too close to putting an arm around you, from walking you to your lectures to walking you home, from the light headpats to having the guts to kiss your cheeks. 

it’s too much and it wasn’t as if you basked in the public display of affection. whenever you tried telling him off in the most gentlest of ways, taeyong would frown and curl in on himself, eyes glossy, darting around, and looking like a kicked puppy. 

you couldn’t leave him like that just because of some harmless skinship, right? he’s just excited and happy he’s found you. weren’t you also the first one to initiate? with all those notes and gifts you’ve given him? and now you’re backing away just because of a few touches?

“you know,” your roommate plops herself on the couch next to you, netflix movie playing as background. “you’re not obligated to fix him. you’re his soulmate, not his psychiatrist.”

you sigh, head diving into the couch pillows. “i’m not trying to fix him, i’m just…”

she raises a prodding eyebrow. 

“…i’m just trying to be there for him.”

taeyong likes to think that he wasn’t doing it on purpose. but the sense of rush and sick pleasure running up and down his spine whenever you force a smile and give in to his wishes proves otherwise. 

all his life he’s been pushed around. tasked to buy his old man beer and cigarettes and an assortment of drugs. if he turns up empty handed, guess who becomes a punching bag? and he has always been alienated throughout his school life. immature elementary kids aren’t exactly the kindest and would’ve picked on every single thing to appear cool to their friend groups. and poor little scrawny taeyong who didn’t speak and didn’t defend himself was just too easy of a target. 

“uhm… you don’t—don’t need to walk me home all the time.” do you think so low of him that you believe he doesn’t sense your fake little giggle?

“but i like walking you home,” he pouts, jutting his lips just a wee bit more for extra measure. he makes sure his eyes are as round and glossy as can be, he noticed those puppy eyes are what gets to you the most. 

he can tell by your tense shoulders, the clear hesitance in your face, that smile that looked too sweet to be real, and your averting eyes. you needn’t say anything for taeyong to figure you out. he isn’t blind to the lack of comfort you’ve developed by being with him. 

he has to think of something or else you’ll be slipping through the gaps of his fingers.

he asked you out on valentine’s day. it wasn’t the simple, forgettable act of popping out the “hey, do you want to go out on a date with me?” question while holding a bouquet of flowers. taeyong made sure you’ll never forget this certain day that he had laid his claim on you—not that it needed to be vocalized, it was his wounds that made flowers bloom on your skin. the soulmate connection should be enough.

but taeyong wanted to go the extra mile.

with the help of his friends (yuta’s popular and jaehyun can be very persuasive), he’s got people handing you lilies of the valley every ten feet until you reach the auditorium in the main building. despite it blooming on your skin you’ve never really seen them in the flesh. they’re like dew drops, bell-like flowers growing in an elegant dip from it’s main stem and appearing no bigger than your thumb.

you were awed, but skeptical.

you meet taeyong by the end of your little journey, standing on a decorated stage with a bouquet of the flowers nestled delicately in his hands. the natural sunlight bleeding through the open windows giving him such a beautiful glow that you couldn’t take your eyes off him. he had smiled and timidly gave you the flowers while asking.

“will you be my girlfriend?” 

if only you’d look close enough, that sugar coated smile contrasted greatly to the sly flickers in his eyes. he knows how your actions are dictated by the reputation you’ve built. taeyong knows you'll say yes, because if you didn't, how could you have rejected your own soulmate who has made you the light of his life? he’s been nothing but kind to you and you’ve only pushed him away! you’re a monster! you should’ve saved him!

if him alone can’t make you say yes, maybe the pressure-induced stare of the whole student body can.

and as you shivered amidst taeyong’s suffocating hug, feeling the triumphant smirk against your head and his prodding nose as he sniffed your hair, you now understood why your body bloomed this specific woodland flower. 

lilies of the valley are beautiful.

but lilies of the valley are poisonous, too.

the flowers remind you of taeyong. 

making things official has only made things worse. taeyong has promised you that after being together he won’t try hurting himself anymore and that he’s a big boy and he can attend his therapy sessions alone. but the itching in your skin is as constant as ever and you just got off the phone with the receptionist of the clinic he goes to. 

“are things alright? i haven’t seen taeyong since three weeks ago.”

if there’s one thing you absolutely hate doing with your soulmate, it’s confrontations. for the three months you’ve been together, taeyong has always, always spiraled out whenever you confront him about something. be it the mildest or the most superficial thing, what started out small will turn into a complete whirlwind and he’d be in a fit of tears by the end of it.

every single time. 

you prefer happy taeyong than sad taeyong—if you can avoid it for as long as you can, you will. but you’re at your breaking point. him lying to you about his therapy sessions is the pin that popped the little balloon of security you’ve been protecting. 

when you arrive home, he’s already there, crouched and sifting through your bookshelf. it wasn’t a surprise or anything out of the ordinary, he possesses the key to invite himself into your apartment any time. “hey, you’re home!” he immediately stands, barreling towards you. 

he encircles his arms around you protectively as he pulls you flush against his body. you feel the tip of his nose prodding against your neck, hearing him inhaling your scent like cannabis. 

you learned to ignore it, this habit of his—but just because you do doesn’t make you any less uncomfortable than the first time he did it.

you don’t bother hugging him back. 

you were too pissed off to keep up with pretenses. 

“the clinic called, said you weren’t attending your sessions. why were you lying to me?��� 

when pushed into a corner, you were never one to beat around the bush.

“i don’t like going alone, i told you that, remember?” he quickly replied, shoving you away. “i wouldn’t have to lie to you if you would just come with me for my sessions, don’t you think? you’re blowing this out of proportion when it’s all your fault.”

you wanted to pull at your hair. scratch that, you wanted to pull at his hair—no, not in that kind of way. 

“how the fuck—” you stop. taeyong hates it when you curse. cursing will do you more harm than good. you inhale through your nostrils, willing yourself to calm down. “how is this my fault? i told you i have to run errands for professor kim!”

“then quit working there! they’re not even paying you, it’s just for extra credit! which you wouldn’t even fucking need if you weren’t flunking astronomy so bad.” taeyong must’ve seen your features twisting into that of betrayal. he was there when you were crying your eyes out because you failed the exam. he knew the subject was taking such a big toll on you. 

how could he…

“don’t fucking look at me like that, kitten. you know it’s the truth.”

what is the point of this, some form of payback he’s subjecting you to? just because you didn’t come with him to his sessions? six months in this relationship and you already feel so drained, how would the universe expect you to keep up for a whole fucking lifetime together with him?

“why…” you choke, the tears building up in your eyes as your voice breaks. “so what do you want me to do, then?” you ask, because you genuinely don’t know. 

does he want you to choose? is that it? you didn’t want to lose the credits, but you didn’t want to lose this relationship either, no matter how much you’re drowning in the toxicity of it all. 

because this is your soulmate. 

certainly, the universe wouldn’t destine you to each other if it would only bring forth chaos, right? taeyong has mentioned time and time again that this is his first relationship. of course, he’s depending on you to show him the ropes. 

but it seems he isn’t really a big fan of how you do things. 

“quit.”

you shake your head defeatedly. “you know i can’t. i’d have to take the whole subject again next semester and—”

“i said quit, dollface.” the finality in his tone renders you speechless. “then fucking take the subject again next semester! i don’t care. that’s your consequence for neglecting your major. why the fuck do i have to suffer, too, if my soulmate is such a failure?”

his words cut deep, deeper than flesh, cutting through bone as your knees the urge to buckle and collapse before him. “taeyong, please—”

“honestly, i don’t even know what you’re doing with that professor. you always brush it off whenever i ask you!” the glare he sends could kill. “is this… is this why you’re so adamant about not quitting? then again… what kind of professor is willing to pass his students just by interning for him? i can’t believe i’m only realizing this now!”

this is bad. this is very, very bad. 

“whatever you’re thinking about is not true! trust me—”

but as if he can’t hear you, he dawdles on, trying to connect the dots when there is absolutely nothing to connect. 

“you suck dick for grades? how could you do this to me? how can you do that to yourself?” 

you don’t understand exactly why he’s crying again so you don’t say anything. not because his fierce accusations were right but because even if you try hard to convince him that nothing is going on with your astronomy professor, he’d still cry and whine and paint you to be the bad guy. 

“what… what use do i have in this world if my soulmate thinks i’m not enough? and i lost you to some guy who smelled like prunes of all people!” you would have laughed if the situation had been different, but taeyong was dead serious. “i’m useless. i’ve been useless with my family, my friends, and now you. i can never do anything right, can i? i can never make anyone stay. i can’t even make you stay!”

and like a switch that has been flicked off, your conflicted emotions vanish in thin air. gone are every trickle of anger, confusion, and irritation you felt as he makes a beeline to the coffee table, smashing the little ornamental fish bowl and pointing a shard against his dainty wrists. 

“no!” you tackle him to the ground, groaning when you feel the shard dig into your side yet you made no effort to get off of him. blindly, you reach, twisting his wrist to drop the piece of glass. “you promised!” you wail, clutching the collars of his shirt as you pull him close to you. “stop, stop hurting yourself.”

you feel him shaking his head, his own onslaught of tears staining your shirt as the negativity he’s been bottling pours over like a tsunami, dragging you under the currents with him. “no, no, no…” you splutter, snot running disgustingly down your nostrils. “it’s not true, none of that is true. you’re my love, my moonlight, i’d never betray you for anyone or anything!”

“but—but your professor, the internship—”

“i’ll quit. i’ll take the subject again next semester, it’s not a big deal, okay? don’t worry, i’m here. i’m so sorry!”

it was all too easy.

the thing with noble people like you is the foolish sense of responsibility lying underneath your skin, it’s gravitational pull so strong that you don’t bother to think before you speak, to think before you act, to think before you make promises, because what’s important isn’t yourself, it’s the person lying meek and helpless before you. 

quit, you say? taeyong wants something more.

the evil lying inside pandora’s box can never remain dormant, not when meddlesome people like you who think with a one-track mind pull the lid off its hinges, preaching how every evil can have their own redemption.

a hand finds purchase around your waist as an eerie blissful smile stretches on his lips, eyes clouded over. “really? i’m your moonlight?”

“yes—”

“would you prove it to me?”

he doesn’t make room for your hesitance to settle, he lunges, hands wrapping around your face to pull you into a kiss. it wasn’t like all the other kisses you’ve shared with him, no, this one had a dark, underlying purpose. his hands digging into your open wound to make it bleed, tongue sliding into your mouth the moment you gasped in pain.

your hands press on his chest, trying to push him away but taeyong’s thoughts are running wild. you blush in sheer humiliation when he lets out an almost pornographic moan. with a sinking realization, you’ve become hyper aware of something poking at your abdomen.

no, not yet. you weren’t ready yet!

“taeyong, wait—i’m not—”

“you said you love me, didn’t you?”

[sazc94]

The Three Times James "Bucky" Barnes Broke your heart.

This was inspired by @msmarvelwrites 2k Writing Challenge because I'm a sucker for Taylor Swift especially sad Taylor Vibes. I chose the all too well lyrics.

Apparently, I can't do anything small so it's in two parts. Pairs Bucky x Reader and Pietro x Reader. (Not at the same time)

Part 1 Here

No smut but mentions of sex so 18+ Themes: highschool, cheating, college/uni. Friendship

Words 3368 it's Suburban AU.

2015 You finished up Uni staring in the school's production of Rock of Ages, Playing Sherry opposite Loki’s drew. Loki also moved to New York staying with his half brother Thor Oddinson. You stayed in touch with Loki and Pietro. The thing that took you by surprise however was six months after moving to Detroit, whilst working for Bruce Banner's start-up you received a DM on Instagram from Bucky. He heard from Sam and Jane that you were now living in Detroit and he was moving to the area after being scouted by the Detroit Lions. Hey Y/N, I hope you’re good. I know this is random and please feel free to tell me where to go, but I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink sometime? It would be great to see you again and catch up. Let me know. So you replied feeling like maybe after all this time it might be good to finally hear Bucky’s apology. Pietro and you had stayed in touch but you knew he was dating someone else. Her name was Sue Storm, she seemed like a nice girl, very smart and could easily give Pietro a run for his money. After hearing Bucky’s apology, you two started to become friends again, he invited you along to his games always offering to secure you two tickets if you wanted to bring someone. He was a machine on the football field, earning the strange nickname The Winter Soldier.

2016

Everything changed in the summer of 2016 though when Bucky’s mother passed away suddenly in June. She had practically helped raise you, so you attended the funeral with Bucky. You stayed with him in the guest room in his childhood house, helping him sort through belongings and paperwork. Bucky’s dad had died when you were 8 and Bucky like you was an only child. You took in food from neighbours wanting to pay their respects. You held his hand squeezing it in comfort during the funeral, assuring him you were there for him. Two days after the funeral you and Bucky had finished packing up the final boxes, you were upstairs, and he was downstairs being awfully quiet. You went looking for him only to find him sat on the living room floor. He was crying holding a picture of you and him one Halloween when you were 9, Bucky had gone as Superman and you as Supergirl. Your mums stood behind you, both of them chuckling whilst you and bucky tried to out pose one another. Your heart swelled. Your Grandad had died in November and god how your heart had ached, but to lose your mum, you couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Hey, hey. It's alright I’m here Buck”, you said cradling his head to your chest whilst he sobbed. You stayed like that for an unidentifiable amount of time before Bucky’s crying eased. He looked up at you blinking away the stray tears, the familiar blue in his eyes pulling you in. Your not sure who kissed who first but that was how you and Bucky ended up sleeping together.

You and Bucky officially got back together in July. Your Grandma passed away in September, the start of football season. Bucky was unable to attend the funeral, he tried god he tried. Pietro made it though. He and Sue had broken up not that he told you. By the time November rolled around things were good between you and Bucky. Wanda’s fashion label Scarlett Witch was taking off and she invited you and Bucky out to join the rest of the old gang at the official launch in December of 2016. You accepted and for the pair of you assuring Bucky, there would be no awkwardness. Pietro was casually dating and was bringing a date called Crystal.

You arrived at the party in NYC completely blown away. Wanda had asked you to wear a piece from the evening wear collection, a Black strapless dress, the top if form-fitting made from chiffon fabric, the skirt cut out the front made of black tulle sparkled with the touches of glitter. It felt like you were wearing the Milky Way. After stopping to pose for photos for the press you made your way inside. The party was being held inside a beautiful gothic building. “Y/n! You look absolutely amazing, thank you so much for wearing this and of course for coming” Wanda practically pounced on you the minute she spotted you. “Bunny! I agree absolutely amazing. Bucky, you don’t look too bad yourself” Pietro said kissing you on the cheek. Pietro was wearing a deep blue suit, it made his hair and ice-blue eyes pop. Bucky had opted for the simple black tux to match you and your dress. He almost looked good enough to eat. After grabbing a glass of champagne, Wanda and Pietro took you to the rest of the gang who had made it. Jane was here with a date, Thor Oddinson you recognised him from the few times he had been to see you and Loki in shows. Carol was here too. Peter Parker was working the event as a photographer he had brought a date a lovely young lady called Mary Jane Watson. After about 45 minutes of schmoozing and catching up, you went to the ladies room. When you exited you were a little taken aback by the sight that confronted you, a redhead was hanging of Bucky’s arm chuckling away with Thor and Jane. You could only see the back of her from where you were standing. You decided to walk over and introduce yourself. However, when you got closer to the group the woman started to look vaguely familiar.

“Hey babe,” Bucky said as you approached quickly removing his arm from the redhead. Babe. That was weird he never called you babe. His blue eyes looked like they were hiding something. “Lady Y/N. This is Lady Natasha” Thor said introducing you. The redhead turned to shake your hand smiling at you with a knowing look. “Lovely to finally meet the infamous Y/N,” she said. “I told Bucky how disappointed I was not to meet you when I was in the City in September. I’m so sorry to hear about the passing of your grandmother. Bucky kept me company whilst I was around on some Business” her voice sounded harmless, sweet and pleasant. Genuine. Her eyes and knowing smirk told a different story. Bucky looked at you, the familiar betrayal in his eyes, pleading with you. “I was just telling Bucky, I’ve been offered this amazing opportunity in Detroit so Ill be moving there in February, isn’t that wonderful?” she asked. You smiled taking a swig of your champagne. Jane looked at you, then Bucky. You shook your head.

That was the second time Bucky Barnes broke your heart. He assured you that they hadn’t slept together, however had admitted that he had kept her visit from you and that she had kissed him. “Did you kiss her back?” you asked pacing around your hotel room. “Doll, please what does it matter,” he asked reaching out for you. His calloused hands once again burning your skin with his betrayal. The fact he had chosen not to answer was all the confirmation you needed. You had left him in the hotel room. Loki had been unable to make the event due to being in a small play off-Broadway, but you had texted him asking if he wanted to get a drink. You had told him everything and he had walked you back to your hotel room. You were drunk and distressed. Bucky had opened the door his blue eyes flashing with jealousy when the handsome black-haired gentleman had his arms around you. “Easy James, if anything was going to have happened between us, it would have happened in freshman year of college,” Loki said helping you into your room. After you and Bucky returned to Detroit you guys took a break for a few months.

2017

Natasha’s job conveniently happened to be working as a fitness instructor at the Detroit Lions. After 4 months you and Bucky got back together in March of 2017. Things were going great, Natasha seemed to have released whatever hold she had on Bucky. Bucky was performing well with the Lions, his new teammate, Steve Rogers nicknamed Captain America seemed to have caught the eye of many ladies including Natasha. He however didn’t seem that interested in her and had his sights set on a girl from his home in Brooklyn her name was Peggy. Steve and you hit off due to your mutual disinterest in Miss Romanoff, he had come up with a nickname for her, he called her Black Widow because she seemed to devour the men in her life. Banners start-up tech company had taken off with thanks to your ad campaigns. You were also performing in the local summer show of Mamma Mia playing Sophie. In the summer of 17, Peggy Carter came to visit Steve, turned out she was from Britain originally. You liked Peggy and her no-nonsense approach. During July, the four of you went on lots of double dates like you were high schoolers again. For Steve’s birthday which happened to be the fourth of July, the four of you attended an event being put on by the Detroit lions. You had a great evening mixing with various teammates and their families. You even warmed to Natasha a bit that afternoon.

As the evening rolled around a giant cake was brought out to celebrate Steve’s birthday. Followed by a firework show. Everyone made their way to various blankets and cushions set out at the opposite end of the stadium. Somewhere along the way you and Bucky got separated. You didn’t worry too much, to begin with as you’d both drifted off to interact with various people throughout the event, however by the time the fireworks started Bucky was nowhere to be seen. You started to think the worst until you spotted Natasha’s red hair on the other side of the stadium flirting with a gaggle of players from various other teams who were invited. Confident Bucky would return shortly you turned your attention to the sky watching with a goofy grin, things were finally settled between you and Bucky. As the fireworks went on you decided to snap a few shots on your phone loving the way the sky lit up with bright colours. The Detroit Lions didn’t do things in small doses, so the firework display ended up going on for about an hour and a half. After about 45 minutes Bucky returned from wherever he had been slipping down behind you pulling your back flush to his chest. He stroked small circles on your arms. His rough calloused skin making you shiver from the contact.

In September you were approached by Tony Stark’s PA Pepper Potts, they had seen your campaigns for Bruce Banner and Tony was interested in headhunting you. Your contract with Bruce was up in October. You initially shot the idea down. Why would you want to leave Michigan? Your family home was a short 20-minute drive away, Bucky was doing well with the Lions. Peggy Carter was moving here after Steve had proposed at the end of Summer. It seemed ludicrous. After initially shooting down the offer. Pepper contacted you, doubling their initial offer. The offer was tempting, so you told Miss Potts you would think it over the weekend. There was no harm in bringing it up with Bucky, maybe a move would do you both good, Natasha seemed to have gotten under Bucky’s skin again. You left the office early that day. You didn’t bother to text Bucky figuring you could surprise him when he got home from training with a home-cooked meal. You stopped off to get some supplies to make Lasagne before heading over to his apartment figuring you could just let yourself in. You had called Wanda on the drive over through your cars Bluetooth. She and Vision were engaged, and she wanted you to be one of her bridesmaids. Partway through the call, Pietro had walked into Wanda’s office so you had told them both about the job offer. When you got to Bucky’s you immediately recognised the Black Widows black Mercedes. “huh, that’s weird, I wonder what she’s doing here,” you said out loud “who’s where?” asked Wanda. “oh um nothing, look I got to go I just got to Buck’s and I’m cooking dinner, going to talk to him about Tony’s offer,” you said before hanging up. You were so blind-sighted by Natasha’s car you didn’t clock Bucky’s Motorcycle parked in the corner of the small parking lot. You grabbed your bags walking up to Bucky’s figuring that you could invite Natasha in if need be whilst you waited for Buck to come home.

If you had noticed Bucky’s bike, then just maybe you would have been more prepared for the following events you unlocked Bucky’s apartment and you found clothes strewn everywhere, his jeans. A white Blouse. His boxer trunks. A Black lacy bra, that definitely didn’t belong to you. At first, you were so shocked by what you saw that you didn’t hear the moans coming from the bedroom. It was like you were possessed you carried your bag of groceries as you walked in a daze to the bedroom, you opened the door and found Bucky once again cheating on you. He and Natasha were in the throws of fucking each other, you found Natasha with her back to you, wrapped around Bucky’s waist. Bucky sat upright facing you however his eyes closed whilst he drank in the pleasure. You felt your heartbreak as you dropped your bag of groceries. The bag made a thud as it hit the ground, alerting Bucky to your presence. His eyes flew open connecting with yours. Natasha however didn’t stop riding your boyfriend’s cock. Bucky tried to push her off him, but you were already storming out the door. You grabbed your bag and left Bucky’s spare key in the door. Bucky grabbed a pair of joggers and slippers before chasing after you. Bucky’s apartment was on the second floor. All the apartments on the second floor opened outside to a walkway.

“Really James?!?” you turned round to face him before he could even say your name. “Was once not enough? Did you not hurt me enough the first time?” You asked. You could feel the anger threatening to burst in the way of tears. Bucky went to speak, his blue eyes once again filled with guilt. “How long?!” you asked quietly. Bucky moved towards you tugging on your wrist. “Come on Y/N, come back inside it’s starting to rain, we can discuss this inside,” he said, his eyes pleading with you. At that moment Natasha appeared in Bucky’s open doorway. She looked pleased with herself, wearing Buck’s shirt. The site made you want to vomit. “How. Long?!” you asked again through gritted teeth. Bucky faltered. “Since July. Since the 4th of July event,” he admitted rubbing his hand over his face. At that moment you felt completely and utterly broken. “I’m done, James. Do you hear me? I am done. We are through. You two.” You pointed to Natasha. “You two are welcome to one another”. That was the third time Bucky broke your heart.

You took the job working for Stark Industries. Your contract had ended with Bruce but your lease on your apartment was up until January so you stayed working for him until December of 2017 You said your goodbyes to Steve and Peggy in January and moved across the country to your new life in the big apple.

December 2018

The unknown number flashed up on your phone for the third time that day. You sighed before answering it. “Hello, Y/N Speaking how can I help?” you asked fiddling with your jumper. “Hey Doll, it's me. Don’t hang up.” Your breath caught in your throat. James Buchanan Barnes. You hadn’t spoken to him in over a year. He hadn’t even attempted to reach out to you after you split up mailing your things back to you, well all but a scarf. In January shortly before you’d moved to NYC you’d seen a magazine article saying the Winter Soldier was dating Natasha Romanoff. It confirmed what you already knew deep down, which was that you might be okay but you were not fine at all.

You’d worked so hard to forget about him long enough to forget why you needed to. He had better have a damn good reason for calling you. “You have 5 minutes,” You said getting up from the sofa you were sat on. “look, I know I fucked up with you. In more than one way on more than one occasion. I think it was the pressure to be the perfect couple, you know lifelong friends to more. And well I guess I just freaked out, and then I fell for her, but she didn’t want me, and when you gave us another shot, I thought I could convince myself to love you the way I did her, the way you had loved me. But truth be told, it was always Natasha after that summer. I know you deserve better, and I truly am sorry for hurting your doll. But I wanted you to hear it from me before you read about it in the news. She’s pregnant and also, we’re getting married.” Bucky said. You stood in the middle of the apartment stunned. “So, you call me up again, just to break me like a promise. So casually cruel in the name of being honest?” you whispered. Squeezing back the tears. “Well fuck you, James.” With that, you hung up. Of course, Bucky tried to ring right back, you declined the call, falling to your knees in pain. You had never asked for any of this, you had been quite happy being Bucky’s best girl as his friend. He was the one who kissed you at that prom.

You weren’t still in love with Bucky, you had moved on, forgetting about him and the pain he caused you. He hadn’t needed to call you, he could have given you a heads up through one of your mutual friends, but no. he had to go and stick the knife in. After lying there like a crumpled-up piece of paper and letting the tears fall. You picked yourself up. You washed your face and made yourself a mug of hot chocolate grabbing a Christmas cookie from the tin before making your way over to the bay window. You sat down taking in the view. The traffic had eased off a bit as things wound down for the evening. The snow had been falling pretty much all day. After about 15 minutes of sitting peacefully the key in the lock turned. You didn’t move you were incredibly content where you were, even if you could use a refill in the hot chocolate department.

“Hey handsome how was your day?” you asked not taking your eyes away from the street below. A group of kids were throwing snowballs at one another. You smiled to yourself enjoying their innocence. “It was good, busy” he replied taking off his coat and walking over to join you at the window seat. Wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. “How about you Bunny? I saw a news alert. I’m guessing you know about the engagement?” he asked. You hummed a response. Before shuffling yourself around to face him. His floppy silver-blonde hair covering those beautiful ice blue eyes, they looked at you with such love and endearment, they also spoke a silent promise that he would never hurt you the way that Bucky had. You kissed him gently on the lips before standing up. “Come on Quicksilver let's shower before the Stark Christmas Gala,” you said pulling your boyfriend along behind you shooting him a knowing grin. His nickname may be Quicksilver for athletic reasons but there were some things he liked to take his time with.

A/N If you stuck with me through all this, I am truly sorry. I'm gonna go cry

Tagging the bestie @lannycleave

[blitzturtles]

Title: Irritation (Ao3)

Rating: Teen and Up

Fandom: JoJo's Bizarre Adventure: Stardust Crusaders (future fic)

Pairing(s): JotaKak w/ kid!Jolyne

Summary: He should have known there would be no avoiding this. That time would work against him in the end, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. And very, very good at lying to himself. He regrets it now. Wonders if he should have called his pulmonary specialist for a steroid when all of this first started, but it’s too late.

Notes: For Days 8, "Coughing Up A Lung" (Pneumothorax/Exotic Illness/"Definitely Just A Cold"), and 9, "Oops, I Did It Again" (Hospital/Flare-Up/Ice Chips), of Whumptober.

-

Kakyoin wakes to a familiar irritation in his lungs. One he knows is going to force him to cough, despite the pain that’s been building. He knows if he starts now, it will only trigger a fit, and, from there, it will all go downhill. It’s been building over the last several days. What, with his body being sore--and oftentimes downright painful--and his mind moving impossibly slow.

He should have known there would be no avoiding this. That time would work against him in the end, but he’s nothing if not stubborn. And very, very good at lying to himself. He regrets it now. Wonders if he should have called his pulmonary specialist for a steroid when all of this first started, but it’s too late. He’s already coughing and scrambling upright with his hands tangled in the sheets in a desperate attempt to get more air. He knows that he should be doing the opposite. That he needs to lie flat, but panic is a hell of a thing. His mind strips itself of reason, and he coughs harder despite his effort to hold back the worst of the fit.

Someone is heading toward him. Feet falling heavier than he’s used to in this house. One where Jotaro walks in near silence and Jolyne only makes tiny pitter-patters, but he isn’t wholly surprised by the door bursting open to the sight of his husband’s Stand. Star stares for a moment, wide eyed and alarmed, before he closes the distance and starts to rub circles on Kakyoin’s back. Jotaro is just behind him, and, for once, he wears his expression as openly as his Stand.

Kakyoin would feel guilty, if he were able to feel anything other than the agony blooming across his chest and spreading throughout the rest of his torso. It’s all he can focus on as his eyes prickle with tears, and he doubles over on himself. He’s only stopped by two sets of gentle hands. They try to help him straighten out. Try to help him ease his breathing, but the coughing just won’t stop. He can’t even breathe in.

And then, to make matters worse, the smallest voice calls from the hall with a quiet, but terrified, “Daddy?”, and Kakyoin feels a different sort of pain branching outward, this time from his heart. He tries to wave Jotaro off, to force the man to prioritize Jolyne. It takes some effort--and one impressive, tear-streaked glare from Kakyoin--but the man relents and slips off the bed to grab Jolyne.

Star stays put, hands roaming along Kakyoin’s back, while he mutters quiet ‘Ora’s that might mean something and might mean absolutely nothing. Kakyoin can’t tell in his current state. Can’t read the Stand when his vision is swimming with blackened spots.

Jolyne starts crying at some point, though the noise barely processes past the blood rushing in Kakyoin’s ears. He thinks he would have already crumbled to the bed entirely if not for Star. Holding himself up would be impossible. It’s certainly excruciating, and the pain is only getting worse the longer it goes on.

The coughing finally slows to a stop. In its place, Kakyoin simply wheezes for air with what he feels is little success. His mind is fuzzy, and it truly feels as if someone is trying to crush his ribcage with the added sensation of something sharp stabbing into one side. He slumps into Star when fighting simply becomes too much, and he hears the Stand call out frantically. It’s the last thing he processes before the world goes dark.

When Kakyoin wakes next, it’s to an entirely too familiar setting. There’s a constant, unending beeping off to his right, and a room that’s entirely too bright for his sensitive-on-a-good-day eyes. He tries squinting through the obnoxious light anyway. Tries to sort out how he ended up here, but his mind is moving slow. Like it’s working through molasses, and his vision isn’t just blurry, but also distorted in a way that tells him that he’s on something strong.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” someone says from beside him, but he doesn’t recognize their voice, nor their blurred visage.

“How long?” He asks, because he doesn’t need to know ‘where’. He’s played this game too many times to need to know. “What happened?” Talking hurts. Everything hurts, but talking is something of a gargantuan effort that he puts in purely because he’s stubborn enough to force himself, glass in the throat sensations be damned. He’s had much, much worse before, and the painkillers are at least somewhat helping.

There’s a pause as the person looks away from him and at something on the wall before they answer, “About eight or nine hours. The doctor should be in shortly to explain everything. Let me go get your--partner?”

“Husband.”

“Husband. I’ll be right back.”

“Thank you,” Kakyoin lets his head drop back against the pillow, and he closes his eyes to allow them a moment to rest, while he tries to recall what happened before. He remembers waking up. Being in pain. There’s bits and pieces in between, but his mind feels too addled to put it together. He thinks he remembers Star and crying, but he really can’t put events in their proper order.

“Noriaki,” Jotaro breathes out the moment he steps into the room. His expression is terrifyingly open, even to a man that can barely make out shapes, and Kakyoin knows that he’s fucked up. He’s not sure how, yet, but he knows that he has.

“I’m sorry,” he says immediately. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry.” Talking is still painful, but he needs Jotaro to know that he hadn’t meant to scare him. That he hadn’t meant to stress him out more than he already does simply by existing. That’s the last thing he wants on any given day, yet here they are. With Kakyoin in a hospital bed for the umpteenth time, and Jotaro watching him with wide blue eyes full of all of his fears.

“Stop talking,” Jotaro tells him as he makes his way over to the bed, “You sound like shit.”

And it’s such a Jotaro thing to say that Kakyoin actually has to laugh. Except laughing is horrifically painful, and Kakyoin immediately tenses his entire body in response. There are hands on him in an instant, petting over his hair and his arms. He recognizes one set as belonging to Star. The color is a bit of a dead giveaway, but the other is definitely his husband.

“Easy. You just had a collapsed lung. You probably shouldn’t be talking, much less laughing.”

“A what?” Kakyoin blanches slightly, eyes widening at the thought. He can’t fathom the idea. He’s had a collapsed lung before. Two, in fact, but that’s only in direct relation to having been punched through the midsection. How could he have possibly…

And then he remembers. He remembers waking up to the awful sensation in his chest. Remembers how he couldn’t hold back the first cough, or the one after it, or the many that followed. He remembers Star Platinum bursting into his and Jotaro’s bedroom, only for his husband to follow right after, and he remembers--

“Jolyne--”

“She’s with Marina,” Jotaro says quickly.

There are still hands running over his body, but Kakyoin can’t bring himself to care. Just like he suddenly can’t give a shit that he’s in pain. All he can think about is Jolyne. How terrified she must have been. She’s all of four years-old and has no frame of reference for these things. No means of dealing with such a terrifying sight as a man suffering from a pneumothorax of all things.

“Noriaki.”

“I’m sorry. I--”

“Don’t,” Jotaro says with his tone as firm, yet gentle, as he can manage. He uses one hand to cup at Kakyoin’s face, to force him to meet his gaze, though he seems to realize that Kakyoin can’t actually see much of anything at the moment. “She’s fine. Upset, sure, but she’ll be fine. Star kept her in her room while the EMTs were there. She didn’t see anything after you passed out.”

“Oh,” thank god.

“So relax. Please,” and Jotaro says it so openly, so desperately, that Kakyoin does. If only this once.

[equestrianwritingsstuff]

Drowning is amazing! Please continue!!!

Thank you! I am glad that you like it!

And I wrote it. It's a late post though, sorry.

Drowning Part 4

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

@shydragonrider

Warnings: feverish whumpee, drugged whumpee, head trauma mention, pneumonia, pills (antibiotics), exhaustion, betrayal, talk of medical settings, mentions of attempted murder, anxiety, thoughts of anticipated retribution, nightmares

~

Hero scrambled to her feet, nervousness eating at her stomach. There was Villain, standing six feet tall and raging with anger, in her doorway. Not only did he look like he just went on a killing frenzy, he had a knife.

A knife and a true intent to kill.

"Villain," Hero cautioned, approaching the tall man. He glared, snarling down at Hero.

"I know you have him, Hero," he said, not even acknowledging Hero's quiet plea to step down. "Now, where is he before I bomb the place."

Hero noted that he still had a hospital gown on. His right forearm had blood dripping down it- the remnants of where he had ripped the IV out. The side of his head was still stitched up and hued in a deep royal purple shade. His damaged right eye was swollen, but not nearly as bruised as his temple.

"Where is he!" Villain hollered again and rushed at Hero. He stumbled a little bit and swayed as if a dense feeling of nausea washed over him- and considering the state of the villain's head, she wouldn't be surprised if he was indeed nauseous.

"He isn't here," Hero lied, but it was obvious that she didn't mean it.

"I know you took him home with you," Villain clenched his jaw, the bruise pulsating. "Why else wouldn't you visit me earlier?"

"Villain, I did visit you earlier," Hero tried to reason. "Remember?"

"No, no, no," Villain shook his head. "Only doctors and needles and fogginess and..." His voice trailed off ad his gaze darkened. "Not you."

"I'm sorry," Hero apologized, grabbing the villain's hands. She felt the knife loosening, but Villain didn't let go. Both breathed deeply, trying to calm themselves. Hero couldn't afford to get protective- if that was the correct word- and if Villain blew up again, by golly she would be.

But, the villain was obviously on another page. He suddenly punched Hero in the stomach, jabbed her jaw with the hilt, and lumbered into the house.

Hero doubled over, panting for breath as she tried to reorientate herself. After a good minute of puffing out breaths, she followed Villain.

She found him slamming his hip into her bedroom room. Instinctively, Hero lept on top of him, pulling him back. Thoughts rushed through her head. She had no means of restraints other than a pair of handcuffs in the bathroom cabinet- don't ask. She didn't even have a good enough room to lock such an explosive person in.

She had to take the handcuff route and somehow lead the maniac into the bathroom. Linking her arms around Villain's armpits, she attempted to drag the thrashing man down the hall, but, half-drugged and injured or not, he was still much taller and much bigger. He dug his heels deep into the hardwood floor and grit his teeth. He was going to kill Supervillain if it was the last thing he would do, and nothing, not even someone like Hero would stop him.

He yanked himself out of Hero's grasp and face planted into a wall, knocking down a sunset painting that Hero herself did. He weakly tried to use his arms to push himself back up, but they trembled and collapsed under his weight.

Hero returned her arms back to the position that caused Villain so much strife and dragged him. The villain had clearly exhausted himself to the point of compliance, so it really was an effortless task. She brought him to the bathroom, leaned his now lolling head against the baby blue wall and grabbed her horribly placed handcuffs. Putting them on deftly, she crouched down next to Villain.

"You are supposed to be in the hospital, you know," she lightly scolded him.

"I know," came the reply, so timid that Hero couldn't even correspond the rabid wolf that entered her den with the completely subdued fawn resting in her bathroom. His eyes were closing, too weary to stay open.

"Let's go get some sleep," Hero offered and pulled Villain to his shaky feet. But as she led him to the door, she noticed that he would not be able to make it to the living room without collapsing, so she scooped him up. Now that he was just hanging there limply, it was easy- there wasn't a fight, just complete and utter trust to allow the other to care for the wounded and exhausted one.

Once Villain was settled upon the couch, sleeping soundly, Hero went back upstairs to check on Supervillain. Unlocking the door with the key that worked for every lock, she pushed the door open and walked inside.

Hero scrunched up her nose. After spending sometime in fresh, lavender scented air, the revolting scent of sickness and sweat was like a trash can that had to be taken out to the curb.

But nonetheless, she walked over to the unconscious supervillain. His face was even paler, signifying that his fever spiked again, and he was shivering profoundly. She tossed another blanket over him and performed the hourly task of slipping the thermometer under his tongue. It beeped and like everytime, it revealed a nerve-wracking temperature.

Hero ran her hand through the grimey hair with a sigh and knelt down next to him. He was getting worse. Heck, he hardly looked like he was breathing, yet the consistent rise and collapse of his chest proved otherwise. Silent whimpers slipped through barely parted lips, a little trail of saliva streamed over parched lips. Eyes were closed, but barely. Hero could see distressed pupils shifting about as placid facial expressions contorted into ones of utter misery and pain.

"Hey," Hero whispered, grabbing his boiling hand. It didn't nothing to stop the unconscious torture Supervillain was enduring. His breaths sped up and he started to outwardly gasp, but never awoke.

"Supervillain?" Hero's voice was risen in pitch. "Hey, now. Wake up for me." She shook him, tapped repeatedly at his flushed cheeks, but nothing seemed to work.

Until he bolted up screaming.

No. Screaming was not the correct word for the desperate screech that tore itself away from Supervillain's face. It filled every crevice of the room- possibly even the house- with the haggard voice of terror. It made Hero cringe, her tired body jumping backwards. After the screaming festival was over with, Supervillain resumed a crying sound. Sobs turned into coughs as the sick man dealt with both illness from the pneumonia and whatever fear drove him into such a defensive fright.

Hero wrapped her arm around Supervillain, lethargically seating herself next to him. He turned his body over and pressed his face into Hero's side, relishing in the warming comfort it brought with a contented sigh. Soon after, he fell back asleep, mouth parting to draw in more precious oxygen.

Hero leaned against the pillow, allowing her ward to sleep cuddled up to her. Her own eyelids drooped, reminding her of the dire need to sleep. She contemplated sleeping next to the supervillain, but once Villain awoke it would be a catastrophe. Yet, the instinctual pull towards the awaiting slumber was too hard to resist. Hero scooted down into a more comfortable position, pulled Supervillain onto her chest and fell asleep next to him.

It was sometime before she felt something move beside her. Hero blearily opened her eyes- still heavy with left over sleep- to find Supervillain awake, still hugging her, but staring at something by the foot of the bed. At first Hero brushed it off as another feverish hallucination, but then she saw a shadow move.

Her eyes opening all the way, Hero's head darted to where her other unplanned guest was leisurely standing, using his knife to pick at his nails. Didn't she remove that toy from him?

"What did I say?" Villain asked, pressing his palms into the bedrail. "I say: you are housing Supervillain. No, she replies, blushing the entire time. And then what do I find? The criminal mastermind himself sleeping over the little princess with the tiara. Figures." Villain rolled his eyes, or his eye because the other was still sealed shut by the purple tarp that obscured the machine of sight from the world.

"I-i couldn't just leave him."

"He tried to kill you."

Supervillain whimpered, cowering deeper into bed as Villain's blantant mention of the past triggered his anxiety. Hero would surely get back at him once he was healed. She was just waiting so that she could redo the damage already done to his lungs. Make him suffer the agony he was experiencing. Supervillain let out a quiet sob and squeezed his eyes shut.

As complex as these thoughts seemed, the thinking of them only took a moment because soon, Hero was replying to Villain's accusation.

"And you tried to kill him," she retorted. "Twice. I stopped you both times."

"And knocked me out and hospitalized me in the process. Hero, we are the victims here. Not him," Villain shot a pointed glare at the scared supervillain with a sneer.

"You gave him pneumonia! He can die!"

"Okay, okay. One, I could've died from head trauma. Two, if he was going to die, take him to a freaking hospital. And three, you helped push him into the tank. Remember that."

The memory swarmed Hero like bees- the reminder of her own grave mistake making her feel a rush of guilt.

"I shouldn't have done that and I can't take him to the hospital or he will be arrested."

"I could've been arrested."

"Not everything's about you!"

Villain was silent, chewing at his bottom lip. "This isn't a decision of intellect, darling, housing him does not justify yours or mine or his actions. Not to mention how much you are going regret this," he pointed out, flinging the knife in his hands carefully.

"Why would I regret this. I am-"

"The Hero Agnecy dear. Did you think that your little medic friend thought it was normal for you to call my injuries in? Or are you that naive?"

Hero was silent, stunned into utter silence, but Villain's words. Medic never came. She never came to help Hero, but that didn't mean that she reported Hero's possible betrayal of the agency. It didn't mean...

She never came.

And Hero brought Villain to the hospital. That was all the proof needed for the Agency to put her on a watchlist.

"You need to go back!" Hero suddenly exclaimed, jostling Supervillain who was just about to doze off again.

"To where? The mangy excuse for a hospital?" Villain snorted. "Heck no." He chuckled. "They will put me back under with restraints this time. The chances of escape will go from 95.6% to zero in a matter of seconds. Its suicidal, not to mention probably stupid beyond reason."

"They are gonna think I busted you out..." Hero's voice trailed off when she saw Villain raise his eyebrow mockingly.

"Not everything is about you," he mimicked in perfect representation of Hero's prior exclamation that could've once been described as an arguement's winning statement.

"Shut up."

Suddenly, Supervillain started hacking, but this time around not only mucus left his lungs, but blood in the color of the deepest crimson.

"Hmm," Villain stayed silent for moment, brow ceasing. Hero thought she could literally see the gears clicking and turning in his head.

"You could be right," Villain agreed. "Going back would be beneficial. Especially for me." He grinned wickedly.

"How?"

"Well... Supervillain needs medicine and care, antibiotics to kick this pneumonia," Villain started to pace. "I could go back and gather some. Tell the docs that I escaped on my own... but for a price."

Hero got a sense of Rumpelstiltskin's classic, "all the magic comes with a price" speech with the twirl of his scaly pointer finger, from the series Once Upon a Time.

"Name it."

"All of my criminal charges are dropped, meaning I get to leave that hospital when I deem ready. Not when the stupid heroes decide that I am redeemed enough."

Well, uh, that... Hero shook her head. She never thought of it, but antibiotics were needed to make Supervillain better. She had to go through with it.

"Second," Villain counted off with his fingers as he threw sarcastically intended smirks. "I get a new motorcycle. Your boyfriend trashed it."

"He's not-" Hero stopped when she saw Villain raise an eyebrow.

"Shush, honey. Lemme talk," He drawled. "I will bring you the antibiotics if you swear you will heed my requests."

All sense of caution and foreboding were lost as Hero rummaged her thoughts over the promise. Supervillain's health for two simple things. It was easy enough.

"Deal," she said, nearly involuntary, but that wasn't entirely accurate because she indeed wanted this.

Villain smirk, running his tongue over his lips as he bounded over to shake Hero's hand. The second the two's flesh met meant that the deal was struck. Hero couldn't back away, nor could Villain.

Hero was in the kitchen tenderly feeding Supervillain some soup and prompting him to drink some gatorade when Villain returned triumphantly with a large red bottle.

"Sweet!" Hero exclaimed and grabbed the much needed tuberware. She opened it and admired the pills inside.

"One twice a day," Villain instructed, sitting down in the empty chair next to Hero. His eyes glinted with excited anticipation, narrowing slightly at the edges at the way Hero regarded the antibiotics.

She then took one and opened Supervillain's jaw. He didn't even attempt to resist and compliantly allowed her to maneuver his mouth around. Even though swallowing the hefty pill was an ordeal in itself, he managed.

Hero, seemingly satisfied, picked him up and carried him to the living room to nap on the couch. Villain followed behind her, shooting glances at his phone every few seconds.

Hero propped him against her shoulder and flicked on the television. A comedy show was on. Supervillain glanced up at it before digging his head into Hero's shoulders, completely disinterested.

Supervillain was asleep, Hero was resting with a relaxed look of tranquility on her face, and Villain was draped across an armchair completely absorbed in his phone and periodically looking out the window when the door made a knocking noise.

Hero tensed, and looked at Villain who had stood up.

"Wait here," he said, but there was no ounce of anticipation in his voice. Hero furrowed her forehead. There was even a hint of buoyancy in his typical monotone voice. Even though he usually spoke in a sarcastic air, he always seemed to drawl.

But this was different. Abnormal. Eerie. And a bit- if not very- concerning.

Hero stood up, leaning Supervillain against the armrest and pressed her ear to the recently shut door.

It was Villain who was speaking, that monotone that would stand out anywhere.

"I have them," he said. "I have them both."

Hero's heart dropped when she heard the click of guns.

[exquisitley-obsessed]

We’re Leaving (Carlisle Cullen x Reader)

Author: @exquisitley-obsessed

Summary: The already infatuated Carlisle Cullen and reader are faced with their next challenge, but this time the danger is within their own family. Edward needs his father as he pulls away from Bella over the course of NEW MOON, but this means Carlisle must make the choice between his own happiness and that of his son’s. No matter what he chooses, someone’s going to get hurt.

Word Count: long

Pairings: Carlisle Cullen x Reader

Warnings: Heartbreak, abandonment, sex, drug abuse

A/N: Technically this is a fourth part of my ‘Dinosaur and the Vampire’ series however you don’t need to read it to understand. Plus, in my head this part functions better as a oneshot.

Dinosaur and the Vampire:

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

MY MAIN MASTERLIST

Y/n gasped, the pain was rippling from her chest now, ricocheting through her muscles as she collapsed on her bedroom floor. She could already guess his next words.

‘We’re leaving.’

***

The past couple of months had been glorious. Following the disaster that was the ending to y/n’s junior year where she somehow managed to get tangled up in a high speed car chase with a vampire named Victoria (who had promptly taken her hostage in order to track down y/n’s best friend Bella) - things had begun to look up.

Her infatuation with the town’s local medi-hero Carlisle Cullen had surprisingly taken off, after of course he revealed himself of being a 300 year-old vampire who had a taste for bunnies. Most days she met up with him at his mansion in her brand-new white Ford Bronco, that which Carlisle had bought specifically to save her life and, following the destruction of her own car, decided to gift her - that was an interesting conversation with her parents. 

Of course that accident hadn’t just left her with a beautiful new mechanic baby but also some battle scars. The largest of which was a crescent white line arching over her left brow, not to mention the faded lines circling her waist. Her arms had healed up nice enough, the rope had caused them to double in size as blue and green bruises splotched on the surface for the first few weeks but they eventually died down. The story went that after being in a lot of stress and anxiety y/n had lost sight of the road and crashed into a car and it was stunning how no one thought to question it.

It was difficult being around her personal doctor for the first few days after the crash. So often would she catch him staring mournfully at her scar and bound hands, evidentially blaming himself for her battered state. Y/n spent most of the time convincing him she was fine and reminding him that she would go through so much worse to be where she was today.

And where she was, was a few weeks into her affair, unbeknown to all apart from Carlisle’s family and Bella. Together, Carlisle and her would often circle around the endless abyss of wood and glass that was the Cullen house, or drift up and down the small forest of a garden they had out back. Talking, always talking.

Carlisle was fascinated by every aspect of her previously thought mundane life. She could watch as he made mental notes of her favourite bands and books, what colleges she wanted to go to, her dream job. Y/n so often hated talking about herself but only because she felt that her life paled in comparison to that of Carlisle’s. He had of course explained his entire existence to her, right from its origins in 17th century London, and yet there was still so much he mentioned off-hand that left y/n floored.

Of course with the cat being out the bag, y/n’s and Bella’s friendship felt like it was flourishing for the second time. Now Bella was able to be honest with why she had been so distant, she didn’t have to lie when she explained the intensity of her and Edward’s relationship or why she kept disappearing with him after school. Y/n was able to confine to her about her relationship with Carlisle, about the way he always seemed to be looking at her through his soft amber eyes and the way he was so comfortable in touching her. Constantly brushing his fingers over her wrist or stroking her hair out of her face. All in all y/n had never been happier, of course until Bella’s tragic 18th.

***

For a night that would be so monumental to y/n’s life it seemed strange she wasn’t even present. Her parents had somehow dragged her on a holiday in Florida. And after giving Bella her early birthday present and a promise to Carlisle that she would be careful, she hadn’t thought much more of her time away. She spent most of the time on the beaches, reading and reliving all her memories with the doctor.

He had kissed her only a few nights ago. It came quite literally out of the blue. She was only stopping by his house to pick-up Edward’s copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ when he was at the door waiting for her he seemed somewhat disturbed, as though he had had a rough day at the hospital. She had smiled at him as she got out and he in turn had pattered down the front steps.

“Hi.” Was all she managed to get out before he had caught her lips in his, his body flushed against hers as she was pushed against the car.

“Sorry.” He whispered breathlessly when the kiss had unfortunately come to a close and he rested his forehead against hers, gently rocking her in his arms. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

Yet she couldn’t stay on holiday forever and inevitably she returned to the mess that was life back at Forks. When she got home the first thing she wanted to do was see Bella, to ask her about her birthday, if Alice got her that necklace y/n helped pick out, but Charlie was no help.

“I’m sorry y/n...” He looked incredibly stressed. His shirt old and stained his hair sticking up at the back, heavy set bags hanging below his eyes. “Bella...she’s...she’s not good right now.”

Y/n assumed Bella had come down with something and so she shrugged it off, blaming Charlie’s appearance on well, Charlie stuff. It was the next day at school when things started to feel really wrong, when the pain began to dig it’s hole.

***

“You looking for the Cullens?” Angela asked. Y/n snapped her head around, embarrassed that she had been caught glaring at the completely empty table near the back of the cafeteria. She would have never guessed it was related to Bella’s illness.

“Something happen?” Y/n tried to appear disinterested, picking at her food. It was September and not sunny so it didn’t make sense for them to be away perhaps they were in need of a feed or maybe they had family business...

“Yeah, they moved away.” 

Angela said it like someone would talk about the weather and yet she might as well have leaned across the table and shoved her fork through y/n’s chest.

“What?” The word squeaked out. Y/n felt the colour drain from her face.

“The dad...you know the doctor one...well apparently he got some big time job offer down in California and...”

Angela’s words dissolved into the air, muffled by some invisible blanket. Distantly y/n was aware of her arms going limp, her fork clattering out of her hands as her body tingled numbly underneath her. The worst feeling was the shortness of breath, the way air couldn’t seem to move through her lungs anymore as her chest was weighed down with what felt like a sphere of lead.

The rest of the day couldn’t pass slowly enough. In history it seemed like y/n was watching the clock forever her mind racing a million miles an hour. Surely they hadn’t left properly, Carlisle couldn’t leave without saying goodbye at least. No, it had to have something to do with vampirism, maybe an old friend called or maybe they were in danger, 5 more minutes then gym and then she would find out.

In the end she decided to skip gym altogether jumping in her car and racing home, still in her daze. She needed to see Bella and then she would head up to the Cullen’s, there was no way they had really moved away. Maybe it was just so the humans weren’t getting suspicious, a strange feeling pulled at y/n’s gut as she remembered that technically, she was a part of the ‘humans’ or supposed to be at least.

“Charlie is Bella in?”

“I’m sorry y/n-”

She pushed past him, muttering an apology as she went but Charlie appeared too exhausted to stop her. Turning left she raced up the stairs two at a time before exploding into Bella’s room, she would know from Bella, she would get her answer.

Bella sat on her bed, her face white, her eyes glossed over. She didn’t even look at y/n as she walked in.

“Bella?” Y/n’s voice was shaky, the tears already bubbling in her throat. She knew deep down that she already had her answer. “Bella?”

Finally she turned to her, but there was no recognition. Nothing. Complete emptiness behind her eyes as she stared back for a few seconds before her eyes flickered forward.

Y/n left, apologising to Charlie under her breath as she jumped back in her car. But it was too late, the pain had already settled in her chest, her mind was already convinced. They were gone. He had left. Without even saying goodbye.

It was inescapable now, it spread like fire across her body, consuming her whole. She tried to start up her car but her body doubled over and she grit her teeth in pain. It had begun.

***

She didn’t know where to go, what to do. Most of her wanted to go to the Cullen’s house but she already knew it was most likely empty, devoid of all life. Could she really handle that?

Y/n went to start up her car when she realised that this car was all Carlisle had given her besides her own memories. She raced out of it, turning away from the sight of it and running into her house.

When she got to her room she shut her curtains with so much vigour a few hooks snapped off the edge, she knew she would see the pale car in her drive if she left it open. Before she knew it she was crying, trying desperately to control her emotions before they consumed her whole. Then she saw it.

Resting on her bedside table was an ivory note with her name etched onto the page in rich navy ink.

‘Dearest y/n l’n,’

A letter. He had left her a letter. She opened it carefully, if what she assumed was true this, as well as her car, might be all she had left of him; her sobs still hiccuping in her throat, she raced her eyes over his calligraphy. Five paragraphs. That was all. Five paragraphs loosely explaining how Edward was in a rough place, how people were judging Carlisle for his youth, how he needed to put his family first - five paragraphs.

Y/n gasped, the pain was rippling from her chest now, ricocheting through her muscles as she collapsed on her bedroom floor. She could already guess his next words, the words to conclude the letter.

‘We’re leaving.’

The worst feeling was when she read ‘we’, she knew from this word alone she was to understand that Carlisle did not group her with his family. The letter gave no insinuation that he was deeply sorry for their departure, or that he would in any way return at all. How, in the space of a few hours, could her world be turned completely inside out?

She went from giddily planning a small future with Carlisle to believing he had never cared for her at all. If he did, it certainly wasn’t as much as she had cared for him. Another wave of pain beat her down. She was just a stupid kid with a crush. Another wave. She was a fool, an embarrassment to assume that he wanted her even half as much as she wanted him.

Her tears got too much then, the letter shaking out her hands as the pain, now unbridled, exploded out of her. The waves of heartbreak crashing into her again and again, her stifled screams bouncing off her walls and ringing back in her ears, haunting her with her own pain. 

He was gone, and he had taken her heart with him.

***

“Y/n we’re worried about you.”

“Don’t be.” Y/n laughed loudly, pushing her untouched pasta around on her plate. Angela glanced at her through tense eyes. “I already have a mum, Angela.” The words came out harsher than she meant to, not that she cared.

“But seriously, Mack?” Angela whispered, her voice low so the others wouldn’t hear. Y/n rolled her eyes. 

“We’re not a thing, we just hang out and he...helps me out.”

“He’s a druggie.” Her voice was low, accusing, incredulous. Another roll of y/n’s eyes.

“Duh Angela. What do you think I meant by ‘helping me out’.” Angela just shook her head disappointed. Y/n didn’t care, she couldn’t. Technically sitting at that lunch table on that Friday she was still coming down from her high this morning, her brain soft and fuzzed around the edges and, most importantly, the pain in her chest non existent.

The drug scene in Forks was nothing to be impressed by. It was only by luck that y/n had met Mack, a guy a few years out of high school who had never made it to college. Y/n was pretty sure he was crushing on her but she didn’t mind exploiting that a little if it meant she got high for free. 

It had been four months since they had left. They might as well have taken Bella with them considering she was a shell of a human being: unresponsive, uncooperative. There was nothing behind her eyes, just like the day y/n had come searching for her. That had been one of the last times y/n had stepped foot in the Swan house. Partly because y/n’s new found drug habits wouldn’t go down well with Chief Charlie Swan, partly because y/n couldn’t stand the sight of Bella.

The emptiness, the hollowness, the pain. It was just a reminder to y/n of what was waiting for her the day she became sober. In the beginning, after a few days of wallowing in the pain, feeling as though she were unable to move, y/n had forced herself to go to the beach where she had ran into a bunch of La Push boys. They were smoking green and it was clearly their first time, they called out and invited y/n over clearly expecting that she wouldn’t accept.

But she surprised both them and herself by walking over. After sitting and smoking them with a bit she found herself smiling and laughing at their jokes as her head became warmer and fuzzier, moreover, the pain of his abandonment warmed into nothingness. She had asked them where they got the weed and they had pointed her in the direction of Mack.

“Down for tonight?” 

Y/n read the text as it flashed across her screen.

“You bet :)″

She sent back. Two more lessons and then her high could be refreshed and the cycle could continue.

***

Y/n gasped as she awoke. Nightmares had been more common the past week. They were a regular occurrence when he had first left but going to bed high had always numbed it out. But recently his ivory skin and ribbons of muscles were becoming clearer through the haze.

Rolling over in the dark with some desperation she flicked on her phone and dialled his number.

“Hey Mack, I just called cause-”

“You have a bad high?” He murmured over the phone, distantly she could hear his TV playing in the background. She could picture him, half-dressed surrounded by trash as he got himself high for the third time today. Y/n pushed the image away - no, I’m not like that. It’s different for me, I have a reason.

“Yeah.” She muttered, “I just didn’t know who to call.”

“Usually bad highs are a sign you’ve been smoking too much.” She had basically been smoking consistently for four months now and if she wasn’t smoking she was drunk and if she wasn’t drunk then the pain began to settle.

“Ugh, are you going to tell me I have to stop?” She laughed quietly over the phone, trying to cover the slight desperation in her voice. Distantly she was aware of her parents sleeping in the next room, it was stupid, she was eighteen now and it felt as though she had been through enough trauma to move out, to get away from school. On the other hand school seemed to be the only thing holding her together now.

“No, you don’t need to stop smoking but maybe try something else?” He asked nonchalantly.

“Something else?”

“I stock more than green but it’ll have to be sooner rather than later.”

“Sooner?” Y/n murmured robotically. She had bought enough to get her through the week.

“This weekend?” He asked, almost as if he read her mind.

“See you then...your place?” She rolled over in the dark.

“See you then?” She could hear the enormous grin settle on his lips and it sent a shiver down her spine - she hung up. She had promised herself to never do anything more serious than weed but now she was faced with an ultimatum: break her promise or embrace the darkness.

***

“Hi Mack.” Y/n smiled when he opened the door, he didn’t say anything just grinned and stood to the side letting y/n into his dingy apartment. Y/n had used the same lie to her parents that she used whenever she came here - that she was sleeping over at Angela's. Not that they ever checked. 

Of course she wasn’t  sleeping over at Mack’s, to be honest she didn’t trust him enough for that, normally she left late and would drive her car up to the Cullens house, it wasn’t too far and the road was easy enough to follow when intoxicated. It was the only time was she was able to wander around the house without feeling any guilt or remorse. 

Mack’s place was tiny, made worse by the clutter and rubbish. A small corridor lead to a small living room which the tiniest of kitchens looked out into. Mack had a strip of lights around the top of the ceiling that were constantly flashing multi-coloured as loud obnoxious music played, somewhat muffled in the smoke.

“Hey y/n.” Danny, Mack’s roommate, smiled from the couch, clearly already lost.

“Hey Dan.” She smiled before collapsing at his feet, her knees propped against the coffee table where booze and skins cluttered the surface.

“You’re in for a treat.” He slurred, his arms limp by his sides as his eyes flickered back and forth, his mouth ajar. Y/n felt somewhat excited at the sight of him, so out of his head - this excitement no longer frightened her.

“He’s not lying.” Mack laughed, full of energy as he jumped up and grabbed something off the kitchen counter before holding it in front of her face. A small white square was compressed in the middle of a tiny plastic bag. “These things pack a punch.” He laughed, y/n laughed. “You’re still down to do this right? I’m not going to pressure you or anything.” He said, and for a moment it looked like he was actually concerned for her.

Y/n thought seriously about it for a moment. There was nothing stopping her from getting up and walking out, telling him that it was a mistake to come here, even just telling him that she’ll run the risk of sticking to green. Except the weed wasn’t enough anymore, she was realising that. To keep him away she would have to go further, and she was more than willing. It seemed somewhat funny, that to escape her doctor she had to pollute herself.

“Of course.” Y/n heard her voice laugh as she shuffled out of her jacket and pulled her hair out from it’s knot. If Mack and Danny could, she could.

“Awesome.” He grinned before sitting down on the coffee table in front of her so that her head was somewhat between his knees. “This is how you take it.” He said, clearly enjoying being a ‘teacher’. Y/n could see him properly then.

Mack was in his early-twenties, the same age he was supposed to be. A short brown beard tufted around his jaw whilst shoulder length brown hair was pulled into a low pony at the back of his head. He was sweet really, just lost.

“Stick your tongue out.” Y/n obliged, picking up on the moment of tension as he placed the white square on her tongue with his forefinger. She felt no guilt as she lapped her tongue back into her mouth slowly, gazing into his dark eyes as his finger rested on her bottom lip.

The rest of the night was a blurry mess; mistakes were definitely made and y/n was definitely going to have to find a new dealer. It was strange how that night only happened because she was so desperate to escape Carlisle Cullen, and yet for most of it, it was his icy face that she was picturing instead of Mack’s.

***

Weeks had passed and y/n’s drug exploration was starting to get a little out of control. She was sure her parents were picking up on her strange behaviours: never home at weekends, always fidgeting, bleary eyed and always tired. Perhaps she was just being paranoid, Mack said that could be one of the side effects. 

But it was lucky she was high one specific Friday as she parked her car outside Mack’s apartment complex. She glared at the Bronco, she had seen Bella ripping the radio (Emmett’s gift to Bella) out of her own truck, removing all traces of the Cullen family’s existence. It wasn’t so easy for y/n.

She was thinking of him again. It had been quite obsessive these past few days and that’s why when she first saw him, leaning against his black Mercedes in the shadows, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“What the hell.” She was so sure she was hallucinating, she blinked fiercely.

“Y/n.” He said her name and she felt her eyes flutter closed, how good it felt to hear her name dripping from his lips. She wasn’t aware she had memorised his voice so well. She audibly hummed in response to the sound before snapping herself out of it and ignoring his form. Mack was just upstairs with something new to try and then he would go away. “Y/n.” He said her name again as though he were sure she hadn’t heard him.

Y/n ignored it. The sweetness of his presence was quickly turning sour, and the corners of the hole in her chest were beginning to sting.

“Y/n, it’s me.” That stopped her. From the corner of her eye she could see him step out of the shadows, his pale skin iridescent in the street light. He looked unsure, pleading, desperate. “Y/n.”

“No.” She gasped suddenly. There was no more guessing, she couldn’t even try to deny that it was truly him. She stumbled slightly in the street and he was by her side in a second. When she was stable in his arms he held a lock of her hair between his fingers inhaling deeply. “Your blood smells different.” He murmured. She had forgotten what it was like to be around people who could move so quickly. “Y/n, what have you been putting in your body?”

“Leave me alone.” She murmured, her head still fuzzy and numb from the sight of him. Was it a dream? No it couldn’t be. As she got over her shock, anger pooled in her gut. 

“Are you high?” His eyes were confused and worried.

“If I am what would you do about it?” She smirked. “You have no right to critique my lifestyle.”

“Your lifestyle?” He asked somewhat incredulously, his eyes were slowly melting darker and darker. “Poisoning yourself with LSD is a lifestyle for you?”

“It’s a coping mechanism.” She spat suddenly. “To deal with the pain that you left me with.” That shut him up.

“I would’ve never left if I knew you would do this.” He grimaced. Wrong move.

“Stop!” She gasped suddenly, her arm snatching to her gut where she was sure the pain would brim over. She thought seeing him again would melt her troubles away, instead his presence seemed to intensify them. “Stop talking like you get a say in what I do! You lost that privileged the day you left! Left with nothing but a stupid note Carlisle!”

“I left to protect you. I didn’t want to cause you pain. Remember Victoria?” Was all he could say in response.

“Victoria...” Y/n spat. “What Victoria did to me pales in comparison to what you did. You’re the one whose hurt me the most Carlisle. Do you understand?”

She was still in shock at the sight of him. A million questions were racing through her head but none of them seemed as important now. Her shouting must have alerted someone’s presence because she heard movement near the apartment steps as someone walked up to them.

“Are you okay?” It was Mack but he seemed a million miles away now, unimportant.

“Are you her dealer?” Carlisle strode forward, his voice pure steel.

“Carlisle stop it!” She spat, jumping forward and pushing against his stony chest but it was like trying to move a mountain.

“Are you the one that did this to her?” Carlisle ignored her, still towering over Mack.

“You did this to me!” She suddenly exploded. Carlisle was past listening.

“If I ever see you near her again. I will break you myself, I promise.” His voice was calm meditated, as if every word had weight.

“What are you, her boyfriend?” Mack asked venomously. “Well then maybe I should let you in on a secret.”

“Mack shut up.” Y/n felt fear bubble into her throat. Sure she could swear in that moment she hated Carlisle but that’s all it was, a moment. There was no point in ruining her future.

“Your girlfriend ain’t too loyal.” Mack drawled out, a coy smirk slipping on his lips as he rocked back and forth on his toes. Carlisle tensed. “At least...she wasn’t last night.” 

An animalistic snarl snapped from of Carlisle lips like a whip and within the second he had Mack pinned against the bonnet of a car. Then, just as quickly as he moved, he remembered himself. Letting Mack drop Carlisle’s breath heaved before he turned and stalked towards his car without sparing y/n so much as a glance. Always the pacifist.

“Carlisle.” She called, rushing after him but Mack caught her elbow.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were in a relationship?” He asked and if y/n wasn’t mistaken he sounded somewhat heartbroken, all his previous anger evaporating.

“I’m not.” Y/n gasped struggling to get out of his grip.

“You’re in something.” He murmured, letting her go.

“I’m sorry Mack, I really am. I’ll...call you.” The words were falling over her shoulder as she escaped, but he was already gone and distantly she could hear his Mercedes ripping into the night as he drove away.

***

“It’s not his fault.”

“I don’t need this right now Edward.” After jumping into her Bronco y/n had followed Carlisle’s black Mercedes back to his house. During the drive she couldn’t decide whether her anger was riling up or fizzing into the air and thus, nothingness. He had been so close, she had put her hands against his chest, he was right there.

“Please I just...” Edward’s eyes were tentative as he blocked her path on the house steps, “It’s my fault why we even left, all he was trying to do was be a good father to me.”

“And you think that’s and excuse?”

“No, of course not.” He added hurriedly. “It’s just, I love him, and I know he loves you. Please don’t walk away from him.”

“Walk away?” Y/n gasped, angry tears pricking behind her eyes. “I never wanted to walk away. I never even considered it. You were the ones who left and you took everything with you.” Tears spilled and she hurriedly wiped them away. Edward grimaced. Y/n took her opportunity and stormed past him into the house. To her surprise there stood Rosalie and Emmett; a few hours ago and she would have run into their arms laughing, overjoyed to see her friends again.

“Where is he?” Was all she spat and to her surprise they looked somewhat intimidated as they pointed loosely in the direction of the kitchen. She stormed past them and up the stairs swinging a right to find Carlisle waiting for her, leaning over the counter his head in his hands, he glanced at her.

“Y/n I-” He began.

“Shut up.” Was all she said. Distantly she was aware that Emmett and Rosalie had followed her along with Edward. At the far window she saw movement and assumed Jasper and Alice had come to see what the fuss is about. “You had your chance to talk the day you left but you chose not to, so, what you’re going to do is you’re going to sit in that chat, patiently, whilst I stand her and say what I got to say...understand?”

Carlisle stood now, an internal battle dancing behind his eyes as he glanced from y/n to his family. Y/n was aware of them staring now, watching the leader of their family, the alpha male be challenged, all tentative to see what he would do next. Slowly and with weight, Carlisle walked a few paces before he slid down into a chair, leaning forward and resting on his knees as he looked up at y/n through his lashes. This sent a tremor through the family and within the blink of an eye they were all gone, giving Carlisle and y/n their privacy.

“Carlisle...” Now she was here, she wasn’t quite sure what to say. “I am...sorry...about Mack and what we...” She trailed off, maybe it was not the best idea to start with this. “But you can’t judge me. You just can’t.”

“I know.” He whispered, his brows furrowing apologetically.

“All this...the drugs, Mack, everything, all of it’s just me trying to cope. And it’s not an excuse but-”

“Please don’t apologise.” Carlisle whispered and within the second he was standing in front of her cupping her cheeks in his hands and brushing his thumb under her right eye. “Never apologise.” He kissed her forehead. “You did nothing wrong.” He kissed her nose. It seemed like he went to go kiss her lips but he hovered, as if he remembered himself and he pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against hers.

“I’m sorry for the way I behaved. It was foolish and embarrassing of me.” He decided to say. “Back at the apartments. It’s just...”

“Just what?” Y/n murmured, now in a daze.

“I could smell it.”

“What?”

“Your scent...on him. On his neck, his shirt. Deep down I already knew what had happened but then hearing him...say it...and gloat.” His teeth gritted.

“If it’s any consolation, if I knew you were coming back I would have never-”

“But you didn’t know I was coming back. Because I left you here with nothing.” He was talking to himself now. “I...” He began. “I knew I was hurting you the day I left, the idea alone tormented me for months but I kept lying to myself, telling myself I would put you in more danger, more pain if I came back. But seeing the reality of what I had done to you, coming back to your blood smelling different and...” He trailed off.

“I know.” Y/n filled the silence, overwhelmed now at the feeling of him flushed against her body.

“I’ve got to hand it to Edward.” He chuckled to himself. “He’s more persuasive than he looks.” They stood like that for a moment, just comfortable at being able to be around one another again before y/n scrunched up her eyes.

“God, I've just been so caught up in being angry at you that I don’t think it’s really settled that you’re here. I feel like I’m going to wake up and this is just going to be a cruel dream.” 

“I’m not going anywhere.” He cut her off gently, his eyes steely. “Not because I’m afraid of what you’ll do to yourself if I leave, not because you necessarily need me. But because...I don’t know how many chances I’m going to get to love someone like this.” He chuckled slightly. “And I mean, I have an eternity stretched out in front of me...but to love someone the way I love you...completely and utterly and with every piece of my heart and soul...”

His words fizzled into the air, the greater meaning behind them understood by them and only them.

“I’m sorry about Mack.” They were swaying slightly now, as if there were some soft unheard music. “He’s sweet...and he’s just lost...I guess I was for while.”

“As long as it was...consensual.” Surprisingly this made y/n laugh, a noise he had missed with his whole soul.

“Let’s not talk about it anymore.”

And they didn’t. From an outsiders perspective no one could have guessed anything was ever wrong between y/n and Carlisle. Just as before things gently shifted back into place, old routines were picked up and recent habits died out. Carlisle made good on his promise, he spent the rest of eternity doing everything in his power to make y/n happy, for that was all that mattered for him.

“To love someone the way I love you.” Became their phrase. Before long journeys apart, before what felt like impending doom when it came to Victoria, or the Voultri. He murmured it to her before she slept and shouted it after her car when she pulled away - an ode to their relationship, and all that they had been through. Y/n and Carlisle, the Dinosaur and the Vampire.

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[andromedasstarship]

in the stars - chapter 2

photo credits - @ssahotchnerr

pairing - aaron hotchner x reader

warnings - canon-typical criminal minds violence, show rating 16+ for reference. depictions of violence, stalking, murder, angst, age gap couple, language 

summary - You and Aaron reunite, but it’s not exactly anything to celebrate over. The case moves forward, but you really wish it hadn’t like this.  

a/n - no one is allowed to call me out on my lack of LA/california geographical knowledge. ive also started including readers mental thought train which is italicized (flashbacks will also be in italics, but ill always properly mark a flashback). if you arent tagged but asked, just send another ask/reply! i mustve missed it on accident.

blog rules 

masterlist // read it on ao3 here

chapter 1 // chapter 3

-----

Chapter 2 

Aaron Hotchner was standing in front of you. Impeccable, not even a slight crease in his shoes and suit pressed to perfection. He still smelled faintly like cedar, a thought you quickly tried to send away; it was too late though, already remembering how pitiful it was post breakup, when you would smell the shirts he left at your house, a desperate attempt to remember that he existed in your life. You’d spent hours, days even, thinking about how you’d react if you were ever to see Aaron in person again. At the top of the list was screaming at him, really giving him a piece of your mind for leaving the way he did. Or, maybe you’d be cool and composed, the epitome of maturity and ‘I’m Totally Over You’. You’d even considered completely ignoring him, not even giving him a second glance. Instead you were frozen to the spot, staring up at the man who broke your heart. 

Pulling your eyes away from him, they darted towards the gap between his body and outside, internally debating if you’d be able to somehow sneak around him. As if he could read your mind, not like you had been particularly subtle, he moved to close the gap before you had the chance to fully formulate an escape. 

“Y/N,” he tried again, voice a bit firmer this time around. It’d be better if he couldn’t speak. But then again he had such a beautiful voice-. No, you mentally clamped down on that thought before it could lead you down another rabbit hole. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Tell you, uh, what?” You asked, hyper aware of how mousy you must’ve sounded.

“That someone was murdering women that looked like you. You should’ve called my team sooner, it was irresponsible to put yourself at further risk of-” 

“Are you trying to imply that this is somehow my fault, Agent Hotchner?” The words felt bitter on your tongue. It wasn’t like you, to suddenly be so quick to anger. Years in the spotlight had taught you to hold your tongue, but Aaron’s words managed to cut right through. 

“That’s not what I’m saying, you know that-,” he tried to interject, but you weren’t going to back down so easy. 

“I know what Agent? Please, tell me the acceptable response to this situation,” you spat out at him, finding a brief enjoyment in the way his face scrunched up ever so slightly. “The police were working on the case, I’ve dealt with weirdos before.” Aaron opened his mouth again as if to speak, but you weren’t finished, “You really think I believed you’d answer if I called?” 

His face fell at that and you felt some form of internal victory swell in your chest. Y/N 1 point, Aaron Hotchner 0. The victory was short lived though, as you came to the realization that the two of you were still in a very public setting. 

“I’m not going to fight with you Agent, I suggest you get back to your team.” With that you shoved your way past him, stomping the entire way to your car. It was a shame, the way the anger and sadness was consuming you, maybe if it hadn’t, this time you would’ve noticed the clicking coming from the tree line. 

----

Hotch wished you had been angry; it would’ve been easier to handle you if you had been screaming in his face or throwing low-blow comments his way. He could deal with anger. It’d be easier if he could pretend that you were being completely out of line and could warrant being ignored for the rest of the case. 

That wasn’t you though, and he knew this. He didn’t have to be a profiler to see and hear the way you struggled to hold yourself together. He didn’t need to be a profiler to feel how disappointed you were with him. Hotch didn’t know how to deal with this or you.  Even though it had been months, had he truly fallen so far from your graces; was your opinion so lowly of him now? 

Hotch wasn’t sure which was worse to stomach, the fact that you had such little faith in him or the deep rooted feeling in his gut that told him you were right- had you called him unannounced two months ago, he wouldn’t have picked up the phone. 

----

You sat in your car for twenty minutes, at least. It was pitiful, the way you were crying in your car, to a sad playlist, over a guy who hurt your feelings; it felt like high school all over again. In the moment, you had felt good, the way you watched Aaron’s face twist and fall at your words giving you some sick form of satisfaction. 

It’s not like you had lied to him or anything. You hadn’t even stretched the truth for ultimate impact. The whole overly formal ‘Agent’ thing was definitely on purpose though. No, you had meant every word you said to Aaron, especially about not believing he’d answer if you called. What would you have even said if you called and he did pick up? Hi Aaron, remember me? Good, anyway hope you’re doing well but I think I have a murderous stalker, can you help? Actually, that’s probably exactly how the conversation would’ve gone, but that’s beside the point. 

The point was that even if you could trust the Unit Chief of the BAU to do his job, you weren’t sure you could trust Aaron Hotchner anymore. 

----

When you finally did muster up the courage to return to the conference room, you really wished you hadn’t. You should’ve just turned your car on and left. Was it possible to ghost the FBI? You’d heard enough stories from Aaron about how their tech wizard had found people with just a single loose thread, there was definitely no way you were going to make some spy like disappearance. 

Aaron wasn’t in the room, something you were grateful for in the moment. But what you weren’t grateful for was how the team had managed to set up multiple bulletin boards in your absence; filled with your photo, crime scene photos, the dead women and your personal least favorite, the dead women’s bodies. 

Of course, you knew what was going on, you were a big girl, well old enough to understand and process the gravity of the situation. But you’d only seen photos of the women alive, with personality and humanity; something about that made them look less like you and more like them. Looking at them now- dead, eyes closed, faces tilted away from the camera- these women didn’t just look like you, they were you. 

You hadn’t even realized you were drifting closer to one of the boards until you felt a hand pull at the crook of your elbow. Turning your head ever so slightly you saw JJ, giving you one of her nice looks again. 

“Y/N, you don’t need to see these,” JJ started, already pulling you in the opposite direction. You were about to agree, head already halfway to a full nod when you noticed something from the corner of your eye. 

“Wait!” You exclaimed, pulling your arm back and getting right in front of a photo of victim #2. You very gently pulled the photo of the wall and held it closely in front of your face. Were you allowed to move it? Oh well. You felt the rest of the team’s eyes burning holes through your back so you turned to face them. “I, um, I’m pretty sure the sweater she’s wearing is mine.” You said, voice coming out as a whisper. 

The team certainly seemed to liven up at that statement. Even though they hadn’t even been in LA for a full 24 hours yet, it was obvious from the start that LAPD hadn’t been lacking on the case, rather the unsub was just that good. They reported no evidence from any dump sites,- and now those sites had been contaminated far too much to double check- there had been no witnesses for any of the abductions, and the unsub hadn’t attempted any contact with Y/N; all in all, they had nothing. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” Emily asked, she was quickly pulling photos of the other three women down, bringing them over to the roundtable. “Are the women in these photos wearing anything else you recognize?” 

“Yeah, yeah I’m sure. There’s a little hole right there, on the side, the threads were pretty loose and I got stuck on a doorknob once, ripped it right open. I couldn’t find it when I went to fix it, just assumed I threw it away and forgot.” You said quietly, moving your way to the table. Your brain wasn’t working properly, hadn’t quite yet come to the conclusion that the rest of the agents already reached. He had gotten into your house. “Oh my god.” You whispered, voice shaking. “He was in my house, wasn’t he?” 

The agents all looked down at you with sympathetic gazes before Emily finally spoke up again. “We can’t be sure just yet, but I need you to look at these photos and tell me if you recognize anything else okay? Can you do that for me?” 

You nodded, making your way over to the table and taking a seat. You were well aware one of the agents just called for Hotch, but you couldn’t be bothered with that right now. 

----

“Hotch,” Derek said, his voice urgent as he rounded the corner, interrupting whatever conversation Hotch was having with a random officer, “Y/N recognized the sweater victim #2 was wearing at the dumpsite as hers. Emily’s showing her the rest of the photos and it’s looking like the unsub left something of hers on each one.” 

That certainly got Hotch’s attention. He didn’t need Derek to fill in the blank, the unsub had been in your house. His fists tightened at his side and he couldn’t help the way his face twisted in anger. In this state, Derek knew better than to question this unusually personal reaction, instead just angling his body back towards the conference room. He didn’t even have a chance to open his mouth before Hotch brushed past him, making his way back to you. 

----

Starting with a photo of victim #1, you very slowly pulled it closer in front of you. Oh my god, her neck. Obviously, you’ve seen bruises before, been on a whole bunch of film sets that used makeup to create some pretty gory pieces, but nothing like this. The unsub didn’t just stangle these women, it was like he wanted to completely crush their throats. 

One of the agents behind you was questioning your ability to stomach this, so you quickly forced yourself to focus. It was the least you could do for these poor women, just give them your undivided attention for ten minutes, and then you could deal with everything else later.

Your finger traced over the bracelet victim #1 was wearing. “This is mine. There’s a singular heart engraved on the back of the third diamond’s plating. I bought it for myself after I got cast in my first big role, cried for weeks when I ‘lost’ it.” 

“And what about this one?” Emily asked, gently pulling victim #1’s photo away from you and replacing it with #4. You didn’t miss the way she turned the photos you’d already looked at upside down, as if to further shield you from them. Nor did you miss that she was technically skipping victim #3. 

It didn’t take you long to notice what was yours on victim #4. “It’s the dress, it’s really comfy, I used to wear it a lot, like a lot a lot. I brought it with me so often on trips I just assumed it got left in a hotel room somewhere.” 

Emily nodded, taking back that photo and turning it over as well. You could see her hesitation in showing you victim #3, but she slid it across the table to you as well. Her fingertips ghosting on the edge of the photo, ready to pull it back as soon as you gave an answer.

Victim #3 was tough. She looked the most like you, both when she was alive and certainly the way she looked now. 

You took a sharp intake of breath as you looked down at her the first thing that caught your eye was the necklace. Most certainly yours and most certainly the one that Aaron had given you for your three year anniversary. You realized it was lost a few months after the breakup and nearly tore your house apart looking for it; you didn’t have many things from your relationship with Aaron to prove he was once part of your life, making the few things you did have all the more important. “The necklace, there’s an A engraved on the back and I’m pretty sure those shoes are mine too.” Emily swept the photo back and out of view as soon as the last words left your lips. 

“JJ, get those items out of evidence immediately so we can be absolutely sure,” Hotch ordered. Aaron. You hadn’t even realized he had walked into the room, you turned to look at him, eyes wide with sadness and fear. The tears that were beginning to form tugged viciously on his heart.  “Miss L/N, my team and I are going to escort you back to your home and we’re going to need to canvas it for signs of entry and identify if anything else is missing. Is that okay?” He asked, his voice soft with something most of the members couldn’t place. 

You simply nodded at that, glad that you wouldn’t have to be alone, “Do you need my address, or will you just follow my car?” There was definitely humor in that, Aaron already knew exactly where you lived and the code to get through the gates. 

“Your address is already in our files, but for your safety we’ll be following close behind.” He assured you. The rest of the team was jumping into action, grabbing their personal belongings along with copious amounts of gloves and bags you assumed would be for potential evidence. 

As you all exited the building and entered your respective vehicles, it was Reid who realized where he’d heard that softness in Hotch’s voice before. It was the same tone he used to use with Hayley, back when things were good. 

----

Your house wasn’t far and it was a drive you knew well; grateful for the ability to somewhat distract yourself on the road. The gatesman to your development gave you a real odd look when you told him the two black SUV’s filled with FBI agents were with you, but you couldn’t care less about which neighbor he might spread that info too. Did you see? L/N brought in the FBI, wonder what she’s caught up in. At least all the neighbors and workers had signed airtight NDAs, no one was allowed to talk to any outsiders about the personal happenings of their fellow residents. 

Your house was towards the top of the hill, with a great overlook to the ocean. You had only been 20 when you bought the house and you viewed it as the ultimate achievement of all your hard work and determination. You couldn't shake the bad taste in your mouth as you pulled up the driveway. The house felt tainted now, something you were never sure you’d be able to shake. 

----

Once again, not exactly how you imagined the entire team entering your house for the first time. Your house was extensive, as were the grounds; the team quickly realized they would probably be here for the rest of the day and well into the night.

You were standing awkwardly in the middle of your foyer, unsure of how to exactly approach this situation. “So, there’s about 10 rooms in the house, not including the kitchen and general living spaces, as well with the basement which is technically one big room. I made maps once as a joke, I think I have some in the office, if you wanted those? Or we could do one big house tour and you can break off that way,” you were so rambling, but them being in your house and why they were in your house was setting in, “or you can just go off however you want-” 

“Miss L/N,” JJ said, there was that nice look again, “why don’t you show me around the house so I can get a base level understanding of everything there is. The rest of my team will go start a basic canvas of the inside and the grounds as well.” Thank you JJ. 

You nodded at this, glad that someone else was taking control of the situation. Before you could lead JJ towards the kitchen, your phone started to ring, startling you. When did you get this skittish? 

“My friend is calling,” you said, holding up your phone, “I gotta take this, I was supposed to meet him for coffee a few minutes ago.” You excused yourself, quickly making your way to an empty room away from the rest of the team. Your friend was annoyed at your more than last minute cancellation, but luckily he didn’t pry too hard and accepted your flimsy “I’m not feeling too well’ excuse on the first go. 

“I know, I’m sorry, but I promise I’ll make it up to you as soon as I feel better. Yeah, I love you too. I gotta go, bye.” As you hung up, you could feel a gaze burning into the back of your head. Turning around, you found Aaron staring down at you from the doorway. How long had he been there? 

“You should have told us about your boyfriend sooner. Trying to protect him from questioning will only-”

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” you exclaimed, a bit too hurriedly, “I, uh, I’m not seeing anyone at all actually, haven’t in a while.” Smooth. 

Aaron was smart enough to read through the lines and understand what you had left unsaid. His gaze didn’t give up, but you could’ve swore you saw relief somewhere in his eyes. You weren’t sure if you were supposed to say something, or if he was supposed to say something, or should you walk out, or- 

“Neither have I.” Hotch’s voice broke through your thoughts, but just as quickly as he said it, he turned on his heel and left you alone in the room.

----

a/n - if anyone is wondering ive 100% cried multiple times at how kind and supportive everyone has been with me about this story. we’re only 2 chapters in but im already sad for it to end. yes i 100% have a bunch of other wip ideas for hotch. anywaaaaaaay, replies/asks/comments/reblogs/likes always appreciated! thank you so much for reading 

Taglist: @mac99martin @iwaizumiee @kylorendrip @hqtchner @lieswithoutfairytales @ssahoodrathotchner @midsummernightdream @weasleylovers @evans-dejong @itsmytimetoodream @yoshigguk @28cnn @cuddlyklaus @hotch-meeeeeuppppp

no permission is given to republish or upload my fics anywhere else. if you see this story not on my tumblr or ao3 it is stolen work. i do not own criminal minds or any of the characters involved

[chimtaesty]

One Last Time

pairing: ai!hoseok x reader / 2.7k words

warnings: angst, talks of death and illness (fluff, superficial intelligence, fluff, long lost love, futuristic)

plot: After living a long life you get the chance of seeing your long lost love again, but to a price you are willing to pay.

A/N: hi! I'm kinda active with writing and i had this idea a few days ago so i sat my ass down and wrote this in one night. I want to clarify that this au is inspired by an episode of black mirror. This made me tear up a lil while writing so I hope you like it and you'll stay tuned for more of my works

masterlist

Life has been kind to you, a daughter, two sons and a kind husband. Nothing that you wanted or worked for hasn’t not worked out the way you wanted it to. When you were twenty five you met your husband, Jinyoung. He helped you through life and helped you take care of the kids. Even the one that wasn’t his. Jihyo wasn’t his child and yet he loved her with all the love he could give her.

Jinyoung passed away about twelve years ago due to heart failure. You felt bad that you didn’t grieve like your children did, you didn’t love him like that, you never did. He was more like a best friend than a lover. A man, who died before Jihyo was born, owned your heart and he knew that.

Jung Hoseok, that was his name. Now, even though you weren’t able to move the way you wanted to, you could feel your body move to his. He was a great dancer and he loved dancing, no matter where, no matter who saw him, he danced like no one ever could. It made you feel light, oh so light. The feeling he gave you was indescribable, not a single person ever made you feel this way again.

“Mum, wake up” you hear Jaebeom's voice. Your second oldest visits when he can. You appreciate the effort. “Mum, wake up. It’s your birthday and we want to celebrate with you.” Your eyes open slower than you want and behind droopy eyes you see the faces of your children, Jaebeom, Jihyo and Youngjae. A smile plasters itself on your wrinkly face.

“My babies, what brings you here” Youngjae rolls his eyes at you as he chuckles “It’s your birthday today. We want to celebrate with you” you gasp slightly, trying to sound surprised. Of course you know, the day you were born is the same day the love of your life left this planet. “Don’t act like you don’t know. Your brain works faster than you give it credit, Mum” Jihyo laughs. You chuckle and wave her off.

“Look, Mum. We actually wanted to tell you something” Jaebeom starts and your laugh dies right there. His tone doesn’t excite you, not in the slightest. “What, honey?” your hand finds his and he assures you with a small smile “We all know how your chances of living another year stand. The cancer has spread and your body won’t withstand it any longer.” You nod, that you are going to die, pretty soon, is nothing new. You are prepared and so are your children.

“We thought about a way to make it more comfortable” Jihyo continues and your brows furrow. You talked about hospice, and you didn’t like it. Why are they bringing this up again? “Jihyo, hun. I am not going to leave the country to die.” Youngjae shakes his head and grasps your other hand. “No, mum. We are talking about a way of you getting to live forever, in peace and without pain. You might have heard of Daydream. It’s a non profit organisation which makes it possible to transfer one's consciousness to their database and to a place called Base Line. “

Your brain is running miles as soon as he starts to talk about “base line”. You know exactly what he is talking about, he used to talk about it all the time. Hoseok liked the idea of being together in eternity. “We thought about it. Since you’re not willing to die early and we all know about your undying love for a man who died a long time ago. We were able to get you a spot in daydream. They are willing to download you and give you what you craved for all these years.”

Your mind goes into panic. How can you live forever, forever in a place that Hoseok dreamed about?. How can you spend your eternity with Jinyoung when the person you so dearly love isn’t him? “Jaebeom, honey. I can’t, you don’t know what you are talking ab-”Mum we know. We’ve known for years.” Youngjae almost whispers. Your eyes snap to his and you can see the sincerity. “What?” the whisper leaves your lips, it almost sounded like a whimper, so pathetic. “We’ve known for a long time that your love wasn’t his. Dad was never the man you loved, it was Jung Hoseok, Jihyos father.”

Your eyes fill with tears. They knew, they knew everything. Secrets you kept in the deepest depths of your mind have been discovered all these years ago. Your life was a lie, everything you lived to protect was a lie. “I-I-don’t-”Mum, it’s alright. We are not angry with you.” you start to cry. A violent yelp leaves your lips as all of the thoughts, emotions, memories flood back into your mind. The pain you feel is unbearable, it makes you double over in the comfort of your bed. Youngjae holds your shaking form, whispering comforting words.

“But h-he didn’t-”He did, mum. He was able to get a spot as a beta test person almost fifty years ago. His download was saved on their server. They opened his interview file about twenty years ago and tried to contact you. His reason for joining the program was you, mum. He wanted to find a way to stay with you for the rest of eternity. Dad kept it a secret but we want you to be happy. We want you to be free of pain and live a happy life with the person you love, with Hoseok.” Youngjae sobbs.

You can’t believe it. All these years he was merely miles away. The person who made you feel how no one else could, the love of your life was a few hours away from you.

xxxxx

The car ride is long, almost seven hours to go, but you don’t mind. While your children call their families, read their books or listen to their music you reminisce, you reminisce about the moments you spent with him. The memories you made with him come back.

“Come on, give it a shot.” you frown, the thought of embarrassing yourself further displeases you a lot. He smiled at you with his hands out for you. His brown straight hair frames his handsome features perfectly. The softness of his skin, the lightliness of his smile and his comforting smell that coats the air. Everything makes you smile back at him.

“You know i can’t dance, i much rather watch you dancing” it makes him chuckle and his head falls back with a wide smile plastered on his face. He shakes his head and comes closer, almost too close. A step closer and you are pressed against each other, even with the step in between you, you can feel him. The warmth, the comfort and the love.

“I don’t care about your dancing skills. I want you to have fun with me. How about this, you put your feet on mine and I guide you.” a grin escapes your features and he takes it as a yes as he pushes your feet over his. “Just follow my rhythm, I’m right here, i’ll always be” you nod and lean your head on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, the way he breathes and the way he hums the melody to stay on tact.

“That’s it baby, just like that. You’re a natural, you’ll master the wedding dance in a heartbeat” your eyes find his as his sentence reaches your ears. He would want to marry you? “Wedding dance?” you whisper and he halts his movements. His searching eyes study yours, trying to find displeasure. “Well, yes. I would love to be married to you. No one else should be by your side, not that anyone is better than me” he chuckles and you can’t help but laugh as well.

No one was ever better than you.

“Go to sleep, mum. We have one more hour to go” Jihyo whispers behind you and puts you to sleep with a gentle rub on your shoulder. Once again you reminisce in memories, in more painful ones.

“Don’t you understand where i’m coming from? Why are you so blind, i can’t have a child right now” you shout. He rubs his temples with a frown. “I’m not forcing you to have a child, I just want to know if you want to ever-in the future- have a child with me.” he shouts back at you, the tone in his voice was angry, very angry.

Your eyes are wide and wet, trenched in tears as you back away. He doesn’t care though, he is too busy throwing the next mug on the floor. “Is it me? Would you have a child with someone else because I'm such a mess? Am i not responsible enough? Am I not enough?” he shouts and throws the plate to the floor. Porcelain shatters on the wooden floor with such anger. You’ve never seen him like this, ever and it scares you.

“No, why would you not be enough?” he laughs in the midst of his emotional breakdown. “Because it damn fucking looks like it. Did you already cheat on me, huh? Is that why you’re so damn quiet?” he steers and all you see is red. You almost sprint over to him, your body finds it’s way over the tiny kitchen island like it has done it a million times, it seems so easy. Your hand connects with his cheek with such speed that you are afraid you might’ve knocked some of his teeth out.

Hot tears coat your cheeks as you try to find your words “Don’t you ever accuse me of cheating on you. I know you are angry but this is low, very low.” you whisper. His angry eyes shut and he shoves you out of his way. He grabs the car keys and almost kicks the door open

“I’ll be out for a while, don’t wait for me”

You jolt awake with a loud gasp “Don’t go” you whisper through tears. Just as you see your son in front of you, you realise that it’s not this day, the day he left you. “Mum, are you alright?” Jihyo has a hand on your shoulder in concern. You quickly wipe the tears away to hide your emotional rukus. “Look, we’re here. Right there is the facility” Youngjae points at the big building up the road. “You almost made it, mum” Jihyo beems at you. Your little girl smiles at you with such compassion. It’s something only children are able to do, look at their parents with such love, with such adoration. Having to leave them behind weighs heavy on your heart.

xxxxx

“Mrs. Y/LN, here you will have some time to say goodbye and talk about whatever you might want to share with your family. After you are done we will inform you about the process of downloading and what we know about Jung Hoseok.” a young lady, not older than your daughter, informs you.

All of you sit down, a heavy silence dominates the room. No one is brave enough to say something, to say goodbye. “I love you-”Mum, you don’t have to-”No, Jihyo, i have to. I want you to know. I love you all so much, and I would stay much much longer by your side, if I could.” your hand finds Youngjae’s and a shaky breath leaves his mouth “Mum” Youngjae whispers.

“I’m sorry that I won’t see you children grow up, Youngjae. I’m sorry that i won’t see you get married, Jaebeom. And I’m mostly sorry that you will never see your father, Jihyo. Hoseok would’ve been such a good father. I’m sorry that things haven’t always worked out the way I wanted them to. But I’m honored to call you my children. I’m so proud of you, of everyone of you. You made me the happiest mother there could ever be. I love you and I hope that you’ll remember me as such. Not the weak, ill woman I was the past seven years. I want you to remember me as the woman who raised you, the woman who loved to dance, the woman who was strong. Do me a favor and remember me as such.”

Jihyo sobbs against your shoulder and you let her. In merely a few moments they won’t have a mother anymore. They’ll be without the support of a lifetime, without their lifeline. Without the person who gave them shelter and love, their mother.

“We’ll always remember you as the strongest woman there ever was, as our mother” Jaebeom whispers under tears. You smile and pet his head like you used to when he was little. “I’ll miss you” “Mrs. Y/LN, the transfer is ready” you are quick to stand up. “Go, live your life. Don’t be sad for too long. Grieve and cry but afterwards you have to live. Promise me to live” you grin in pain. With a kiss to each of their faces you leave the room.

xxxxx

The corridor to the room the woman is bringing you seems endless. The time it takes you to get to your love seems endless. But as she sits you down on a comfortable blue chair your heart calms down.

“My name is Nayeon and I’ll inform you about the process of downloading. We’ll connect your brain to our core and transfer your consciousness to one of our memory bots. Jung Hoseok, the man you so desperately want to meet again, was downloaded on an older memory bot. He was saved on a almost twenty year old bot when we found him so we had to transfer him to one of our younger bot models to guarantee a safe connection to our station “base line” and to your memory bot. The bot wasn’t damaged in the slightest. His consciousness was copied, as for yours is being transferred, meaning that your body won’t be usable after your download. Do you understand? Do you still want to proceed?”

“yes”

She puts several sensors on your head and injects a chip into your right temple for the transfer. Weirdly enough, your head is empty. You expected your head to run wild as soon as they started your transfer. “In less than two minutes you’ll go unconscious and wake up in the superficial world base line. Your bot will be securely stored and taken care of. I wish you a comfortable journey. bon voyage

xxxxx

You awake with a small groan as the bright sunlight burns itself into your skin. The gentle wind glides through your hair and slightly dries your eyes as you pry them open. You can smell the salty sea air and feel the rays of sunshine.

The bed you are lying in is big and comfortable, almost as comfortable as the bed you shared with Hoseok. Speaking of Hoseok, why isn’t he here? Isn’t he supposed to welcome you? Your feet find the floor as fast as possible as you run across the room. Just seconds before you dare to leave the room you catch a glimpse of the mirror facing the beach. You see yourself, not the almost seventy year old you, no, the twenty year old you. The firm skin, the still colored hair and the healthy looking body you once had faced you.

You breathlessly stumble towards the mirror to take a closer look and then, then you see him. You’re able to see the reflection of his back through the mirror. Your head whips around and you start to run. The pain, the love, all of the emotions you kept inside of you all of those years made you sprint, stumble towards him. “Hos-Hoseok!” you scream. You run with all of your strength, you hurry to the man you’ve missed so much. “God, Hoseok!” and the moment he turns around you halt. All of your limbs stop moving.

His golden skin, his beautiful face make you stop. You can’t believe that he is here, right here after all these years. “Ho-Hoseok” you manage to sobb. His face morphs into a smile as he opens his arms. “Come on, come to me, my love”

And you run again, you sprint into his arms. His warm body embraces you as you crash.

The weight pulling the both of you to the ground.

“I thought I lost you” you sobb as he strokes your hair.

“I promised you to find a way to stay by your side forever.”

[miekasa]

feeling semi-called out because i wear my name tag on one of the pockets of my scrub top, like that's my waist not crotch but i'd probably get a side eye 😭😭 i have so many things and thoughts about the scouts in a hospital au, and omg all your posts about it is bringing it out!! hange in ortho taking in eren too. yes. hange amd all those tools especially the drill LMAO it's perfect. eren is scared at first, but he's also hammering and drilling away in no time. jean in pedia looking like he's holding a football as he holds the little babies 😭 levi being the unexpectedly fair and kind dude from neuro is a fave!! him in oncology is also very special to me tho, like it could be surgical or medical oncology, but he would be so good at both and his juniors would do a double take at how he isn't charming per se, but he has such a way with patients!!!!!! mikasa the smartest girl, endocrinology plus a masters in clinical genetics 🥰 connie in a nonpatient department 😭 i can see it, he is a disaster but an expert at reading those images!! sasha his partner down in pathology or smth, always gets reprimanded for having food out but no one smells out cancer in those specimens like her!!

also...imagine the reverse too, roommate au with levi, but this time he's the one in healthcare and you get to watch him strip at the door after work because of the pancetta. heh. lemme dote on (and bark at) you 🥰🥰

bye i finally had time to go on tumblr and this spilled out, im sorry 😭😭 -💉

Hange as Eren’s attending just makes SENSE!! Eren is hesitant (isn’t he supposed to fix things); but also because a part of him feels like he’s a disappointment for not taking interest in/being gifted at cardio (daddy issues galore). But Hange brings out the best in him, encourages him to use all that feistiness and personality to the best of his ability, and that being a doctor isn’t just about being technical and intelligent on paper; there’s real life application, and personality is a big deal! Honestly, if it weren’t for Hange, Eren might have honestly considered something else, even if he was this far along. They’re the best pair. The loudest too, with the most provocative music taste in the OR, but still the best.

Jean in pediatrics is so near and dear to me. You know he loves the babies so much he’s scared shitless about dropping them that’s why he look so awkward holding them at first. It just takes some practice tho, and soon he’s a pro. It’s kinda... sexy to see how good he is with children, and how easily he can calm a crying infant, and explain complex things to a toddler. He’s such a dream. He knows the white coat thing is a bit pretentious too, but damn if he doesn’t look good in it. 

Levi in neuro... it’s just so GOOD. Of course he of all people would handle the brain and all its complexities, and handle it well. Not only is he a dedicated surgeon, but he’s done his fair share of research, his contributions are crazy, even if they’re (literally) microscopic analyses. He’s pretty decorated, but he never flexes it. When his residents find out they kinda freak, “What the hell is he doing mentoring us?? I’m pretty sure this guy is gonna have a newly discovered brain activity/region named after him in 5 years at least. He’s published in Nature. THRICE.” All that, and he’s good with patients, too, it’s unfair. He’s not peppy or “nice,” to them, but he’s gentle; he’s got that charm about him that doesn’t bullshit, but doesn’t fear monger, and is careful to explain things in layman’s terms so his patients fully understand what’s going on. And when his patients are children? God. Godddd. 

Mikasa best girl, Levi is/was her attending, at least for a period of time, and he never said it but she was his favorite. She’s smart, competent, flexible, and doesn’t have an ego about it. Truly, a blessing. She still/frequently goes to him for advice, and she’s the only resident to ever enter Levi’s office for a non-offense. Just to talk... maybe even have lunch and talk shit about Eren and Hange’s playlist. Mikasa wants to bitch about a difficult patient, and Levi reminds her about HIPAA violations... but gossips (without names) nonetheless. 

So right about Connie in a non-patient department PLEASE. To think Connie considered EMS at first and swiftly shut that idea down when he saw a real life broken bone protruding through skin for the first time, he was SICK LMFAOOO. The bone part was cool to him tho, so radiology turned out to be a great alternative; that way he doesn’t have to see and blood or severed skin, so problem solved! It’s easy to think he’s a slacker or a dunce, but give him labs or imaging to analyze and he’s got it done with ease and accuracy. 

Sasha as a nurse is precious, but I can totally see her in pathology. She literally studies disease for a living/interacts with people with these diseases and other illnesses and is still like, “Can’t believe the human immune system was caught slipping like this. Embarrassiiiiiiiing. Simply be vaccinated.” The rage she feels when she hears about parents not vaccinating their children... Sasha’s usually pretty cheery and always finds fun and hope in her work, but that’s one thing that’ll set her off. 

The reverse roommates au!!! I see the vision!!! Also might I offer: they both work in healthcare, maybe at different hospitals, but kind of on opposite shifts (Levi in the morning, OC in the afternoon/night), all to come home and shit talk their respective hospital boards and healthcare systems. Mutual understanding of their situation and finding time to dote on the other even tho they’re barely holding it together themselves. Peak romance