#I fear I may have to resort to pulling my hair out

[moonchildstyles]

-

[sparrowrye]

Alastor x Fem! Reader {soulmates} Part 10

Synopsis: soulmate AU where you have the same mark on your body as your soulmate, and if your soulmate dies, you die too. Alastor needs to make sure that his soulmate is safe so he can continue his reign - whatever that takes. Though it looks like we have a couple secrets of our own.

Previous part

Part 10: building a shield

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I clung to Husker for the days to come. I wasn't sleeping. Striker had followed me into my nightmares. I resorted to reading well into the night and taking short naps throughout the day. I refused to sleep if Husker wasn't in the room; and he knew this. The books Alastor had given me were hard to read but it helped keep my mind focused on anything except my old master.

I also did everything I could to hide from Alastor. My ears were especially attuned to his footsteps and when I heard him walking I was ready to run into the other room. Rosie had mentioned something about teaching me mind magic but I didn't want Alastor to try anything before she came. It became a problem when I started hiding outside under the kitchen window until Husker came to find me.

Ultimately, it wasn't up to me. He could find me if he wanted to, and find me he did. The hair on my arms stood up and I heard a faint gasping. I recognized the sound of his shadow magic and ran into the dining room. I hide behind the wall right as he manifested in the living room. I held my breath and stayed as still as I could. I felt a chill run through my body when I didn't hear him move or say anything to Husker.

"Hiding, are we?"

I turned to find him standing with his arms behind his back. I hadn't heard him use his shadows to move so how did he sneak up on me?

"From who?" I challenged, standing up straight. I flicked my tail in an effort to rid the jitters of the fear still running through my body.

"I see you've started reading the books I left you," he gestured to the book still clasped in my hand. I looked at the old book, thinking of something to say. When I couldn't, I sighed and walked back into the sitting room. "Rosie will be arriving shortly. I thought I should warn you to give you ample time to prepare."

"Prepare how?" I tried to seem unbothered as I sat in the chair by the fire. Ever since the incident I was always struggling to stay warm.

"Mentally prepare. This may prove to be more of a challenge than what you're used to."

"If Rosie is the one who's doing the teaching, I think I'll be okay. I'm not sure what could be worse than your lessons."

He let out a small chuckle. "As you wish."

I should have listened to him, though, because when Rosie arrived I was a nervous wreck. It was apparently obvious because she kept telling me to relax and 'not to worry about anything'.

I had no concept of this mental magic. I grew more worried when Alastor followed us into the library. He closed the doors and shades like always but there was still enough light for us to see each other. Husker stood guard on the other side of one set of doors.

Rosie pulled three chairs together and guided me to sit in one of them. She tapped the back of my hand, gently saying, "Stop fretting dear. You're safer here than anywhere else. It's just practice." She then pulled a side table over and placed two pitchers of ice water on it. I swallowed hard. "Alastor, stop brooding and come take a seat."

Alastor, who had been standing in the corner of the library, slowly made his way to the circle and perched himself in the remaining seat. He set his cane aside and clasped his hands in his lap. His eyes met mine and I quickly looked down at my own sweaty hands.

"Alright, sweetheart, are you ready to get started?" Rosie asked me.

"I guess so."

"You'll be just fine dear. We're going to start small." She held her hand out. I subtly wiped my hand on my pant leg and slowly placed it on top. "You'll feel my presence but I want you to keep me out." She closed her eyes and a moment later I felt something touch the inside of my head. My ears twitched as it reached down my neck and to my shoulders. My hair stood up and my lips pulled back to reveal my teeth.

I imagined pushing the invisible force back up my shoulders and to my head. I pushed harder until she was on the outside of my head rather than inside. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I had been holding.

"Well done, sweetheart," she praised, severing our connection. "That was pretty good for your first time. How do you feel?"

"I feel normal."

"Good. Now. Try with Alastor."

My eyes widened as I slowly looked over at him. His smile widened to show his sharp set of teeth. I dug my foot claws into the carpet as I bristled at the thought of mind working with him. He unfolded his arm and held out his black and red claws. I didn't take it.

"Oh it's alright, dearie. He'll be gentle, right Alastor?" She casted a glare at him.

"Oh but of course," he put his other hand up to his chest, "I'm a gentleman, after all." His red eyes met mine again and my throat suddenly went dry. I looked over at Rosie but she only gestured for me to take his hand. I took a deep breath, focusing on his hand rather than his smile, and slowly reached out.

His huge claws wrapped around mine one by one, practically engulfing it. My other hand curled against the wood of the armchair. A shiver ran down my spine when I felt a cold presence enter my head. I immediately pushed against him, eager to keep him out of my mind. But I couldn't push him completely out. He was just staying there at the edge of my mind. He was resisting but it didn't felt like he was really using his strength.

I opened my eyes to find his hand glowing green and mine purple. But I watched as little trails of green moved along my arm and up past my shoulders. I could see the magic.

"A little harder, Alastor," Rosie instructed.

I tried to brace myself but he moved too fast. The cold went right through my head and into my shoulders, making me yelp. I squeezed my eyes shut and pushed harder against him. It felt like I was trying to lift an anvil of weight over my head. My spine started to hurt and my heels felt like they were on fire. He was moving further and further down my body. I couldn't get warm.

"Enough," Alastor said as he let go of my hand. I sucked in air and sat up straight, seemingly have folded in half in the chair. "She'll need to exercise that more." I sent a glare in his direction but he ignored it, folding his hands back on his knee.

"Practice makes perfect," Rosie agreed. "Let's try something a little different. Try putting up a wall to your mind before we even touch." She waited for me to give her the go ahead before touching my arm instead. This one felt much easier to do. I actually heard a metal clank when her presence bounced off my shield. "Boy ain't that something. You've got a talent for this one. Alastor, see if you can get through."

I barely looked at him before he grabbed my arm. I heard the same clank but when he tried a second time he pushed against my shield with something sharp until it pierced it completely. I tried pushing him out again but it was no use. I jerked my arm away and he faded from my head. I curled my lips up at him as he retracted his hand.

"My my, if I've ever seen two soulmates disagree before, I surely didn't before the two of you." Rosie planted her hands on her hips and directed her attention on her old friend.

"Well, we don't always see eye to eye." He lifted one eyebrow at me.

I rolled my eyes and looked down at my hands. I could keep Rosie at bay but I couldn't do anything against him. Rosie seemed to read my thoughts because she said, "Oh don't worry, dearie, it's always easier to mind block other people than it is your soulmate. That's why they're called that, after all."

"You've also had years of experience," I said to him, my ears leaning back a little.

"There is that." He cocked his head towards Rosie.

"Well, I would say that she's perfectly capable of keeping away most people. I'm sure you two can practice in the meantime." The two of us casted glares at each other. "Now comes the hard part. We have to go into your memories like before and build a shield in there. We don't need someone getting to you like last time."

I nodded and gave her my hand. I picked a random memory, not related to Striker, and let myself slip into it. I was fighting the boy who moved at the speed of light. He was able to land several hits on me as he jumped off the walls of the ring.

"Start putting up bits of your shield in your mind and hold them there," Rosie explained. I tried to go along with the memory but also comply. It was difficult to focus on two things at once. I felt her presence reach my mind and lift one of the shields in place. I imagined melting the walls together.

By the time several shields had been put up, I noticed that I had completely removed myself from the memory. Now I was watching the memory through my new shield rather than experiencing it. I looked around and noticed I had completed my entire shield. Inside my head was a deep purple and red.

Then I noticed Alastor.

He was just standing there watching me. The only notion of movement was when he blinked. Was he actually here or was it just the soul connection?

"That was pathetic." Striker's voice made me freeze. I turned around to look at the memory on display. I had just finished my fight with the boy. He lay lifeless on the sand as the doors slammed shut behind me. Striker grabbed my face so I would look up at him. "It took far too long for you to finish that."

The panels in my shield started to fall out of place. I panicked and frantically pushed them back into place.

"He was too fast--ah!" He let go of my face right as his tail slapped me across the face.

"I've seen you fight better. You embarrassed both of us today and you won't do it again. Do you understand?"

The panels kept falling and I couldn't keep up. Why couldn't they just stay?

I caressed my sore cheek. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Come." He turned around, whipping his tail dangerously close to my face again. It made a horrifying whip cracking sound right by ear. Dread filled my chest as I watched myself follow behind him. My chest was tight and my eyes started to burn.

I had finally caught up and pushed a panel back into place. I looked around for more but saw Alastor pushing the last one into place. Something in my mind connected like two magnets and the panels melted into a single shield. I looked at the memory to see Striker shoving me into a cage and slamming the door shut.

"I'll give you something to cry about next time," were his parting words. I looked around at my shield but it stayed firmly in place. Had I done it?

"Come on out, dearie," Rosie's voice echoed quietly. I tried blinking and looking up but it didn't do anything. How do I get out? "Come back to your physical body." I felt the ghost feeling of her touching my hand.

I closed my eyes and imagined sitting back in that old library. I focused on the feeling of her touching me and felt the air around me grow colder. My head tilted back and cold water fell down my throat.

My eyes shot open and I leaned over to cough. I was back in the library. Rosie was patting my back and had a glass of water in her hand. It was darker in the room now. How much time had passed? What time was it?

Alastor turned on the desk lamp, lighting up the room with a warm yellow glow. I slowed my breathing enough before demanding, "What were you doing in there?"

"I'm your soulmate, darling," he answered, "That's how this works."

"You don't see me trying to get in your head."

"That's because you don't have the skills, darling."

"Alright alright, enough you two." Rosie pressed the cold glass in my hand. "We should all be very happy right now. You put up your first shield. Now it's going to take a little more than a glance to get into your head. Not to mention looking into your memories should be a lot easier for you now."

"Why didn't we do this first?" I asked, taking a sip of the refreshing water.

"You weren't able to. You're only at this point because you've managed to unravel enough of the curse and your magic. You've come a long way from when we first met." She winked at me and I couldn't help but smile.

"Thank you for helping." I tried to sound as genuine as I could. "I really appreciate it."

"Oh you're so polite," she gushed. "I'm just glad I can help make things easier on you. I can't imagine the nightmares you must've been having. This Striker guy sounds like a real jerk."

"Yeah, you could say that," I said into the glass as I took another sip.

"You must be tired, too, Rosie. I'll take you back," Alastor offered.

"You're such a gentleman." She wrapped her arm around his. "Now, dearie, remember. For the next few days I want you to practice pushing people out. Use that old cat outside too." I smiled again and watched Alastor lead her out of the room.

Husker came in to help put everything back in place and ask how it went. I didn't go into details but I was sure to mention the parts that involved Alastor.

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Author's note:

Ooooh now we're getting to the good stuff. I've got some more mind magic scenes that I think you're going to die for.

[britany1997]

Cat and Mouse

Hope y’all love this! Comment to be added to my Spike Taglist:)

Spike x fem reader slayer

Warnings: SMUT minors DNI, predator x prey (sort of), roleplay, lotsssss of foreplay and a little bit of smut, cunnilingus, biting (duh), blood drinking (also duh), I think that’s it

You ran through the depths of Spike’s cave, desperately searching for a way out.

The tunnels seemed to wind on forever, and every turn seemed to lead you to a dead end. You feared it was only a matter of time before you met your own end.

As you raced down another tunnel, fear crept into your heart when you found yet another cold cave wall. A whispered “no” fizzled from your lips.

“Bad luck pet,” you tensed as a familiar voice purred from behind you.

In a flash, your back was pressed into the wall, held in place by the forearm of the most despicable vampire you knew, Spike.

You scowled down at him, your eyes full of ire.

Spike returned your scowl with a smirk. He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “I will know your blood, Slayer. I will make your neck my chalice... and drink deep.”

Your hateful expression melted to one of amusement.

“Did you script this?”

He glared at you, “you’re not supposed to break character.”

That was a yes.

The corner of your lip pulled up slightly, but you suppressed it before you could smile. Spike had obviously put a lot of thought into your little game, you’d hate to ruin it for him.

“In your dreams bloodsucker,” you bit back, pushing Spike off of you and into the cave wall across from you.

His smile was catlike as he brushed rubble off his clothes.

“Yes pet, exactly.” He grabbed your hand and yanked you towards him, “now tell me, do you dream of me too?”

You threw him off you, pulling your stake from its holster. “I dream of the day I can drive this through your hollow chest.”

He mock pouted. “You wound me love, who’ll you play with when I’m a pile of dust?”

You scoffed, moving forward to press the point of the stake into his chest, “vamps like you are a dime a dozen.”

“You’re half right pet,” he smirked, “Sunnydale may be overrun with vampires…”

In a flash he grabbed your wrist, wrestling the stake to the ground and maneuvering you against his chest, “…but there’s no one quite like me.”

Your thighs clenched as he slowly licked along your neck.

Spike had carried you out from his tunnel network, and into the bedroom area of his cave.

He threw you onto the bed before crawling over you, “your mine slayer,” he said as his lips moved to capture yours.

“Wait.”

He groaned, “what??”

Your eyes narrowed. “You catch me, ‘the super powerful, only slayer in all the world…’”

He nodded.

You pursed your lips, moving off the bed to think.

“That kinda makes it seem like you win.”

You could have sworn if he had any blood it would have rushed to his cheeks.

“Win?” He asked, laughing nervously. “You must be- no. Win? What?”

You crossed your arms.

He sighed, “can you just get on the bed.”

“Mhmm,” your finger reached out to caress his chin. “Since you’re the big, bad, strong vampire that defeats me, shouldn’t you be able to…you know, take me?”

He groaned, “believe me love I am trying.”

You giggled, “you know that’s not what I meant.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. You cleared your throat to suppress your laughing.

He looked up, “can’t you win next time?”

You smiled, “ok Spikey.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled as he picked you up and spun you around, making soft giggles fall from your lips.

“Oh no! The evil vampire has captured me again! Whatever shall I do now?” You threw your arm over your forehead dramatically.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled. “No stakes left, no friends around to save you slayer?”

You raised an eyebrow, “hmm guess I’ll have to resort to your methods,” you sunk your teeth into the skin of his neck.

“Oh fuck love.” he moaned, gripping your hair and pulling gently.

You sucked the skin of his neck between your teeth. God you hoped vampires could still bruise.

The hand not currently tangled in your hair slid to your waist, pulling you closer and squeezing.

When you finally pulled away, Spike’s eyes were practically all black. He was dripping with desire.

“My turn,” he pushed you back, pressing you into the mattress and letting his teeth sink into the familiar spot where your shoulder met your neck.

You let out a breathy mew and wrapped your legs around his waist as he drank.

“Mmm slayer,” he purred into your shoulder, “you’re too sweet to drink dry…I’d rather keep you instead.”

You bit your lip and rolled your hips, grinding against him. “What are you going to do with me?” You forced a scared look onto your face.

He lifted his head from your neck to peer down at you, “what I always do pet…” he paused, “make you scream.”

You couldn’t help it. You crashed your lips into his in a searing kiss. “Well then hurry up already,” you teased.

He smirked as he tore your clothes off, prompting a gasp to fall from your lips. “So impatient,” he teased back.

He tossed the remains of your clothes to the side and kneeled between your legs.

“You’ve got the prettiest cunt love,” he sighed wistfully.

Your ran your fingers through his hair, before pulling him in closer with a bit of slayer strength. “Yeah? Bet it tastes even better.”

His hand snaked around your leg as he leaned in to nip at your thigh. “Mmm I bet it does.”

He gently parted your legs further. He pressed soft kisses to each thigh, before leaning in to kiss your lower stomach.

You whimpered, desperate for more. “Enough teasing,” you grit through your teeth.

He chuckled as he moved to lick softly at your clit. As you did your hands threaded through his hair once more.

Spike, encouraged by your response, sealed his lips around your clit and began to suck. His eyes fluttering closed as he felt your thighs shake around his head.

Spike’s hands came up to hold your hips, and squeezed as he licked and sucked.

When you felt yourself getting close to the edge, his tongue licked a stripe upwards before laving at your clit, desperate to make feel you release into his mouth.

You screamed his name as you coated his face, causing him to moan in approval.

He left soft kisses on your thighs as he licked them clean, before crawling into bed beside you.

You hummed as he wrapped himself around you from behind, his head fitting into the crook of your neck. “You were right,”

“Right about what?” he asked as he planted a kiss on your cheek.

“There’s no one quite like you,” you turned to beam up at him.

He smiled back at you, stroking your cheek. Then his gaze turned sinister. “Just wait until round two slayer.”

You smirked. Your night had just begun.

Note: yes that’s an actual Buffy quote about him making reader’s neck his chalice lmao

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[soulofapatrick]

They Find Out You're Pregnant: Teen Wolf Boys part one

Summary: How each boy finds out you're pregnant

Words: 4K altogether

warnings: unplanned pregnancy but mostly fluff

As I step into the bedroom, I sense the tension thick in the air, swirling around Stiles like a storm cloud. He’s curled up on the bed, facing away from me, and I can tell he’s not asleep despite the lack of his usual cute little snores. His shoulders rise and fall with a rhythm that betrays a restlessness I’ve come to recognise all too well.

“Sti, baby?” I press, desperation creeping into my voice. I need him to look at me, to see past whatever wall he’s built between us. Cold eyes and a scowl meet my gaze when he finally turns to face me, and it feels like knives piercing my heart.

“Stiles, what did I do?” I press on, desperate for him to look at me, to see those beautiful brown eyes and his cute little nose and his quirky little smile that has me feeling giddy. Instead, I’m met with cold eyes and a scowl as he burrows further into the bed as if he wants to disappear and it breaks my heart. 

“You know what you’ve done, asshole!” His words sting, buried back in the pillow, yet his pain is palpable. It’s then that I realise — he’s found the test. The pregnancy test I took last night, discarded in the bin, not thinking Stiles would see it until I was ready. Dread settles in my stomach as I know what he must think as we haven’t done anything for a few weeks as the full moon happened and now boom, pregnant test. 

“Sti, listen to me.” With resolve, I move closer, needing him to understand. He tries to evade me, but I’m quicker, using my werecoyote strength to turn him onto his back. We wrestle for a few moment, not wanting to make Stiles feel utterly powerless, until the fight in him leaves and I’m straddling his waist, holding his arms down gently but firmly. 

“Mieczyslaw Noah Stilinski,” I use his full name, a last resort to get through to him, and his resistance finally melts away. His tear-filled eyes meet mine, vulnerability shining through the facade of anger. 

“Stiles, baby… Stiles, I’m a coyote,” I start, trying to explain the complexities he may not fully grasp or have thought of. He nods, his expression pained, as if bracing for the worst, “We have heats and ruts. Stiles, that test was mine.” The weight of my words hangs heavy in the air between us. His blush telling me he’s embarrassed, but he’s trying to understand. 

“You’re pregnant?” His voice is quiet, laced with a mixture of hope and disbelief. I just nod, feeling a rush of relief that the truth is finally out. 

“Yes Stiles. I’m pregnant with our child.” I say it plainly letting the enormity of the revelation sink in. His reaction is immediate— he sits up abruptly, catching me off guard with a headbutt that he seems oblivious to in his rush to kiss me.

The kiss is desperate, passionate, a floodgate of emotions breaking open. Stiles’s hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer as if he's afraid I might disappear. My hands cup his face, fingers trembling slightly with a mix of relief and apprehension. His lips move against mine with a hunger that matches my own, seeking reassurance and connection in the midst of uncertainty. Every touch, every caress speaks volumes—of love, of fear, of hope.

When we finally pull apart, breathless and flushed, our foreheads lean against each other, eyes closed as we try to catch our breath. My fingers thread through his hair, tangling in the messy strands that I’ve come to adore. Stiles’s hands linger on my waist, his touch grounding me in the reality of our shared moment.

The intimacy is interrupted by the sudden creak of the bedroom door opening, a stark reminder of the world outside our bubble of emotions. We break apart reluctantly, turning to see Noah Stilinski standing there, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. His gaze flickers between us, understanding dawning slowly as he takes in the scene before him.

"I... I need to go sit down to wrap my head around this," he says softly, his voice thick with unspoken questions and paternal worry. With a brief nod to us both, he retreats downstairs, leaving Stiles and me staring at each other in a mixture of disbelief and joy.

"Fuck!" Stiles breathes out, a nervous laugh escaping him as he runs a hand through his hair, still trying to process everything. I can’t help but chuckle softly, the tension easing as we share a moment of raw, unfiltered emotion.

Our hands find each other naturally, fingers intertwining as we sit. The weight of what lies ahead hangs heavy in the air, but so does the undeniable bond between us. Stiles turns to me, his eyes searching mine for reassurance, for confirmation that we're in this together.

"Are you okay?" he finally asks, his voice soft yet filled with a myriad of emotions—love, concern, excitement, and a touch of fear.

I squeeze his hand gently, offering him a reassuring smile. "I'm okay. We're okay," I assure him, knowing that while the road ahead won't be easy, we have each other to lean on.

Stiles leans in, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, a silent promise of his commitment and love. "I love you," he murmurs against my skin, his words a soothing balm to the uncertainties swirling around us.

"I love you too," I reply softly, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude for the man beside me, the father of our unborn child.

I sit nervously on the edge of Scott's bed, my legs bouncing with restless energy as I clutch onto the small gift box in my lap. Each breath feels strained, the anticipation of his arrival causing my heart to pound relentlessly against my ribs. The room is cloaked in a hushed stillness, broken only by the soft murmur of the night seeping through the open window, casting shadows across the room.

The door creaks open, and Scott steps into the room, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes in my anxious posture. “Baby? What's going on?" His voice is gentle, a beacon of calm in the midst of my swirling emotions as he crosses the room to stand before me.

I inhale deeply, trying to steady my trembling hands as I extend the gift box towards him. "Scott, I... I got you something," I manage to say, my voice wavering with nerves that betray the weight of what lies within.

He accepts the box with a curious tilt of his head, settling beside me on the bed. His fingers trace the edges of the wrapping paper, his expression shifting from curiosity to confusion as he uncovers the smaller box nestled within.

Opening it, his breath catches in his throat as he sees the pregnancy test lying inside. The reality of the situation crashes over us like a tidal wave, and I watch his eyes widen with shock and disbelief.

"Scott, I... I got you something," I manage to say, my voice betraying the turmoil within. He accepts the box with a curious expression, eyebrows quirking as I always call him Scotty not Scott, his fingers careful as he begins to unwrap it.

As he peels back the layers of wrapping paper, confusion clouds his features, replaced by disbelief when he reveals the smaller box inside. His breath catches in his throat as he opens it, revealing the pregnancy test nestled within. The implications hit him like a tidal wave, and I watch as shock ripples through him, his eyes widening with a mix of emotions.

The initial shock gives way to concern, his brows furrowing as he processes the reality before him. A flicker of fear crosses his face, accompanied by a tentative hope that he struggles to grasp amidst the overwhelming news. His gaze shifts from the test to me and back again, searching for words that seem to elude him in the moment.

"Scott," I begin softly, tears welling in my eyes as I reach out to touch his hand, seeking connection in the midst of our shared uncertainty. "I'm pregnant."

The words hang heavy in the air, a palpable silence settling between us as he absorbs the weight of my revelation. His hand tightens around mine, a gesture of both support and seeking solace in the face of the unknown.

"Are you... sure?" he finally manages to ask, his voice a whisper laced with disbelief. He meets my gaze, his eyes filled with a mixture of awe and apprehension, struggling to comprehend the enormity of what lies ahead for us.

I nod slowly, my own voice trembling as I reaffirm, "Yes, Scott. It's yours."

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to anchor himself amidst the whirlwind of emotions crashing over us. His touch is gentle yet firm, a testament to his resolve to face this unexpected turn in our lives together.

"I... I don't know what to say," he admits quietly against my hair, his breath warm against my skin. "But we'll figure this out. Together."

I close my eyes, tears streaming down my cheeks as I cling to him, overwhelmed by a rush of relief and gratitude for his steadfast presence. In that intimate moment, sitting on his bed with the pregnancy test between us, I find solace in the certainty that no matter the challenges ahead, having Scott by my side fills me with a deep sense of hope and determination. 

“I love you so much.”

I stand by the window in Derek's loft, the city lights twinkling in the distance, but my mind is consumed by a different kind of sparkle—a mixture of hope and fear that knots my stomach. The thought had been creeping in lately, a hunch I couldn't shake off, but anxiety held me back from taking the test. What if it wasn't the right time? What if Derek wasn't ready?

Derek enters the room, his presence a comforting solidity in the midst of my swirling thoughts. His sharp gaze locks onto me, sensing my unease despite my attempt at composure.

"Hey," he says softly, his voice a soothing balm that momentarily eases my nerves.

I turn to face him, trying to hide the turmoil beneath a forced smile. "Hi," I reply, my voice catching slightly.

He takes a step closer, concern etched into the lines of his brow. "Are you okay?" he asks, his tone gentle yet probing.

I hesitate, unsure how to voice the uncertainty gnawing at me. "I... I've been feeling off lately," I finally admit, my gaze flickering away from his intense scrutiny.

His expression softens, understanding dawning in his eyes as he pieces together my unspoken words. "You think..." he begins, his voice trailing off as he seems to catch on to the implications.

I nod slowly, unable to meet his gaze as tears well up in my eyes. "I think I might be pregnant," I confess in a hushed tone, the weight of the admission hanging heavy in the air.

Derek's breath catches, his shoulders stiffening imperceptibly before he takes a deep breath, closing the distance between us in a few long strides. He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the uncertainties swirling around us.

"I had a feeling," he admits quietly against my hair, his voice a mixture of awe and tenderness. "But I didn't want to push you.” 

Relief floods through me at his understanding, his acceptance offering a lifeline in the sea of doubt. "I've been scared," I confess, burying my face against his chest as tears spill over. "Scared of how you'd react.”

Derek's arms tighten around me, his embrace offering reassurance and warmth. "I'm here," he murmurs, his voice a promise. "Whatever happens, we'll face it together.”

In that vulnerable moment, surrounded by Derek's comforting presence, I feel a surge of courage. Slowly, I pull back, meeting his gaze with a tentative smile. "I think I should take the test," I say softly, my voice wavering with a mix of hope and apprehension.

He nods, his expression unwavering as he brushes a stray tear from my cheek. "Let's find out," he agrees, his voice steady. Moments later, we stand in the bathroom, the air thick with anticipation. I take the test, heart hammering in my chest as I wait for the result. When the faint positive line appears, tears of joy and relief spill down my cheeks.

I emerge from the bathroom, the test in trembling hands, and Derek's eyes lock onto mine. Without a word, he crosses the room in quick strides, falling to his knees before me. His hands gently push my shirt up, his lips pressing tender kisses against my barely-there bump.

Emotion swells within me—tension and uncertainty giving way to a rush of overwhelming love and tenderness. Derek's actions speak volumes, his touch a promise of unwavering support and boundless affection.

"I love you," he murmurs against my stomach, his voice reverent and filled with awe. 

Tears blur my vision as I run my fingers through his hair, overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions. "I love you too," I whisper, feeling the weight of our shared journey settling into a tender certainty.

In that intimate moment, surrounded by love and hope, I know that no matter what lies ahead, Derek and I will face it together, our bond strengthened by the miracle growing within me.

I stand in the hallway of Liam's house, clutching the pregnancy test tightly in my hand. The hallway feels strangely quiet, the air heavy with anticipation and nerves. Liam had just returned from a late-night patrol with Scott, and I knew I had to tell him, but the fear of his reaction kept me rooted in place.

The front door creaks open, and Liam steps inside, his exhaustion evident in the lines of his face and the weariness in his movements. His eyes meet mine, concern flickering across his features as he senses my tension.

"Hey, what's going on?" he asks softly, his voice filled with genuine worry as he approaches me.

I take a deep breath, my heart pounding in my chest as I hold out the pregnancy test towards him. "Liam, we need to talk," I manage to say, my voice trembling with nerves.

He takes the test from me, confusion clouding his expression as he examines it. Recognition dawns slowly, his eyes widening with shock as he realises what it means. The test falls from his hands, forgotten, as he turns to face me, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly.

"Are... are you serious?" he finally manages to ask, his voice cracking with emotion. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to touch my arm, seeking confirmation amidst the whirlwind of thoughts racing through his mind.

I nod slowly, tears welling up in my eyes as I meet his gaze with a mix of fear and hope. "Yes, Liam. I'm pregnant," I admit softly, the weight of the truth hanging heavy in the space between us.

His breath hitches, his eyes never leaving mine as he struggles to process the enormity of the news. "But how...?" he begins, his voice trailing off as he searches for the right words.

“Well, when a man and woman love each other a lot-“ I start to say and he rolls his eyes playfully, punching me in the arm lightly so I continue, joking aside, ”I... I didn't know for sure until now," I explain, tears suddenly welling up in my eyes as I try to convey the intensity of my emotions. "But I had a feeling, and I finally took the test."

Liam wraps his arms around me suddenly, pulling me close as if he's afraid I might slip away. "I... I don't know what to say," he admits against my hair, his voice thick with a mix of disbelief and overwhelming love.

Tears of relief mingle with the uncertainty that still lingers between us, but in that moment, held in Liam's embrace, I know that we'll face whatever comes next together. Our journey into parenthood may be unexpected and filled with challenges, but knowing Liam is by my side fills me with a profound sense of strength and hope for our future.

As we stand there in the hallway, wrapped in each other's arms, I feel a wave of gratitude for the love we share and the new life growing within me—a testament to our bond and the possibilities that lie ahead.

The first rays of dawn peek through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over Isaac's bedroom. I wake slowly, cocooned in warmth and the comforting weight of Isaac's arm draped protectively over me. His steady heartbeat beneath my ear lulls me into a serene half-awake state, where for a fleeting moment, everything feels perfect.

"Morning," Isaac murmurs sleepily, his voice husky with sleep as he brushes his nose across my shoulder before pressing a kiss there, loosening his grip on me so I can roll over and face the surly haired werewolf, feeling at peace and oh so in love.

I smile softly, relishing the tranquility of the moment before reality nudges its way into my consciousness. But, of course, as if on cue, a subtle queasiness stirs in my stomach, a sensation I’ve been experiencing the last few days. Panic flares briefly, but I try to dismiss it, not wanting to disturb the peace between us.

Isaac senses my restlessness, his gaze searching mine with concern. "You okay sweetheart?" he asks gently, his thumb brushing lightly over my cheek.

I nod slightly, swallowing down the rising unease. "Just... feeling a bit off," I admit reluctantly, not wanting to worry him unnecessarily.

But before I can say more, a sudden wave of nausea grips me, and I bolt out of bed with startling urgency, breaking free from Isaac's embrace. "I... I'll be right back," I manage to choke out, mouth watering warningly, my voice strained as I hurriedly make my way to the ensuite bathroom.

Isaac's confusion turns to alarm as he watches me go, the sound of my retching echoing through the closed door. He's by my side in an instant, his concern overriding any sense of personal space as he pushes open the door to find me leaning heavily over the toilet.

"What's wrong?" he asks urgently, his hands hovering anxiously over me as he assesses the situation.

I lean over the toilet, gasping for breath as I struggle to regain my composure. "I don’t know, ive been sic every morning for the last week. I can’t stand certain food anymore… I just want ice cream” I’m suddenly crying, my voice barely audible over the rush of emotions.

Isaac's eyes widen in shock, his hand coming to rest gently on my back as he kneels beside me. “Baby, are you… are we pregnant?” he repeats incredulously, the reality of my words sinking in slowly.

Those tears just stream down my cheeks harder, unable to process what Isaac is saying but somewhere deep in my gut knowing he’s right. "I've been feeling off for a while," I explain haltingly, the weight of the confession hanging heavy in the air. “But I thought it was a bug. Didn’t want to worry you.”

He pulls me into his arms, holding me close as if to shield me from the uncertainty that now defines our future. "Why didn't you tell me sooner?" he murmurs against my hair, his voice thick with a mixture of awe and concern.

"I didn't want to worry you," I repeat softly, my heart aching with the fear of his reaction and the overwhelming rush of emotions coursing through me.

Isaac's embrace tightens around me, his touch a reassuring anchor amidst the whirlwind of uncertainty. "We'll figure this out," he reassures me, his voice steady and filled with determination, “I want to start a family with you.” 

“You do?” 

“I am in love with you. Only you.” 

“I’m in love with you too.”

I lie in bed, tossing and turning, my stomach churning with waves of nausea, sweating and just feeling generally shit. The clock ticks relentlessly, each passing minute feeling like an eternity as I wait for Jordan to return from work. I've been feeling off for days now, a probable stomach bug or stress from all the shit that has been happening in Beacon Hills recently. 

The front door finally creaks open, and I hear Jordan's familiar footsteps padding down the hallway. Relief washes over me as he enters the bedroom, his presence a comforting presence in the dimly lit room. He quickly strips down to his boxers before he slips under the covers beside me, his warmth immediately soothing.

His arm wraps around my waist, pulling me back against his chest, relief washing through me as if he can heal me with just his touch. In my drowsy state, I lean into his touch, seeking solace in his embrace. His hand rests flat against my stomach, and I wince slightly at the sensation but some of the nausea fades and a soft sigh of relief escapes me.

"Jordan," I murmur, my voice thick with sleep and discomfort.

He shifts slightly, making me roll onto my back to face him. His bright eyes search mine, concern etched in his furrowed brow. "When were you going to tell me?" he asks softly, his voice tinged with a hint of worry. His hand cupping my jaw, thumb brushing lovingly over my fever flushed cheek.

Confusion knots my brow as I try to make sense of his question. "Tell you what?" I manage to ask, my voice laced with exhaustion and confusion.

His gaze lingers on me, his expression softening as realisation slowly dawns in his eyes. “Sunshine…” his breath comes out in a soft gasp, “Sunshine, you’re pregnant," he states quietly, his voice filled with a mix of awe and certainty.

My breath catches in my throat, my heart skipping a beat at his words. "What?" I whisper, stunned by the revelation.

Jordan's hand slides from my cheek down to my stomach, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "I can sense it," he explains quietly, his fingers tracing a soothing pattern against my skin. “I… I don’t know how but I can sense it… I can feel the change in you."

Tears well up in my eyes, a rush of emotions overwhelming me—surprise, disbelief, and a flicker of hope. "I... I didn't know," I admit softly, my voice trembling with the weight of his words, “I thought it was the flu.”

He leans closer, his forehead resting against mine. "It's okay," he murmurs, his breath warm against my lips. “I love you baby, we’re gonna have a baby.”

He’s shuffling around until he’s laying on his back, my head resting on his chest as he knows how soothing his heartbeat can be, especially when I can’t sleep and before I know it I’m drifting off to sleep with one thought on my mind. 

“You’re gonna be the best dad ever.” 

Teen Wolf Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

@alexxavicry @guacam011y @fandom-princess-forevermore @bellatrixxmarierose

[radexchangeprogram]

Can I request for some angsty headcanons? Fluff ending?? Confronting their s/o when they're mentally unstable but they are not aware of it???

Also please make it gender-neutral!

*crawls out of my hole* Hello it’s been a while :’) I didn’t want to make another “Omg I swear I’ll post guys!!!” post because I’ve made so many. Every time I thought I had motivation to write, my brain was like “lol nope”. I also have just had a lot going on in my life in general that I don’t wish to get into on here.

Anyways here you go! I decided to go with imposter syndrome as being the main culprit behind the mental health moment (definitely not self projecting nooooo) but feel free to interpret it in anyways that resonates with you :’) I just did the brothers because I didn’t want to push myself too hard!

Edit: Fixed a few grammar mistakes, I probably missed a few but meh

Comforting S/O Going Through a Mental Health Crisis (The Brothers)

Tw: negative self thoughts

Preface

Even before coming to the Devildom, you’ve struggled with mental health. You had good days and bad days, but today was a particularly bad day.

Lucifer

He called you into his office after you had skipped class that day.

While he may let you get off lighter than his brothers, you are still not immune from his lectures.

He didn’t even get a chance to start his usual speech when he noticed your puffy eyes.

He cupped your face with one of his gloves hands and asked you what was wrong.

You couldn’t hold back the tears anymore as you sobbed about how you didn’t feel good enough for the program, how you shouldn’t even have your pacts in the first place, how you didn’t even feel good enough to be his partner.

As you continued to regurgitate all of these horrible thoughts and feelings you had, you suddenly stopped when he pulled you into a tight hug.

At some point, he had shifted into his more demonic form, wrapping the two of you in his onyx wings. It was something he had done more frequently in the Celestial Realm when his brothers got upset as children. He remembers them saying it helped them feel safe.

“MC… You deserve everything you have and more. You helped all of us when we were broken and believed to be beyond repair.” He placed a kiss to your forehead, “Please allow us to be here for you as well.”

Will help you get a therapist or any other kind of professional who you feel you would have the best results with. He loves you so much.

Mammon

He ran into your room without knocking like always. He just HAD to tell you about the bet he just won!

He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw your trembling form under the blankets, very clearly having been crying just moments before.

A lot of people forget that Mammon was the glue that held his family together after the fall, remaining calm and even helping Lucifer during his moments of fear and doubt. He’s a lot more emotionally intelligent than people give him credit for, there’s a reason he’s the only brother who has yet to resort to flashing his demon form in rage.

He gently helped you sit up and asked what was wrong, concern very visible in his eyes.

You explained to him your feelings of inadequacy, of how you felt you didn’t deserve any of your accomplishments or to even be in the program.

He asked if someone had said something to you, perhaps a lower demon making a comment towards you.

If you confirm that someone did, he will absolutely remind that demon why you shouldn’t fuck with the partner of the second ruler of hell after he makes sure you’re ok.

If not, he will remain calm and ask you how long you have felt this way. As you speak, he pulls you closer into his arms and softly plays with your hair, leaving the occasional kiss on the crown of your head.

If you allow it, he will do anything to help you get treatment. You’re probably the only one he’s willing to take a bit out of his hoard for (you can’t tell me he doesn’t have a hoard full of some of the most expensive and valuable things in the three worlds, come on. The royal family is probably the only one who has more than him.)

He will never let you forget your value again. He loves you so much.

Leviathan

You two were having a gaming session like usual, cuddled up on his couch while trying out a new rpg.

It was single player, so you were mostly just watching Levi while he rambled about strategies and such.

He eventually noticed you had completely stopped talking and got really worried. Dude has the worst anxiety.

And this anxiety only increases when he sees you trying really hard to fight tears while you dig your fingers into one of the cushions on his couch.

“MC? W-what’s wrong? Did something happen in the game? It’s not that good of a game anyways, we can turn it off!” He offers an awkward, nervous smile in an attempt to reassure you. He has no idea what’s going on and it’s terrifying to him.

When you explain how you have been struggling to feel good enough in general lately, he is floored. Was it because he called you a normie?! Those were all jokes! God he’s such a horrible boyfriend-

When you told him that you couldn’t exactly pinpoint what it was, he started to understand more. It was kinda like his envy in a way, just a constant feeling of not being enough. While he knew what you were feeling wasn’t envy, he understood not being able to control self deprecating thoughts.

A bit more confidently than usual, he held both your hands. Telling you that he loved you and that even if you don’t feel good enough, you are good enough. His face was red the entire time, but he knew it was something you needed to hear.

After you calm down a bit, he’ll look into helping you get help. He suggested Telehealth as an option since then you wouldn’t have to constantly be drained going between worlds for treatment. However, if you prefer in person, he will be just as supportive.

Satan

He decided to go to the school library during his off period, as usual. It sucked that the two of you had different off periods, but what can you do?

So he was shocked to see you in the tucked away spot the two of you had claimed as your own in the library.

You were curled into yourself in your chair, trying to steady your breathing. He instantly knew something was horribly wrong.

He softly asked if you were okay, to which you simply shook your head. You weren’t going to talk here and that was okay. He grabbed your hand and guided you out of a less used exit of the library and took you straight home. He didn’t care about skipping class, Lucifer can cope.

Once he had you in his room and seated on one of his comfy reader chairs, he asked you what was going on.

He could feel his anger growing as you spoke about feeling small, feeling that maybe you took an exchange program opportunity away from someone who deserved it more, and how maybe you should give up and go home.

He asked if someone had said something, immediately thinking of all the fun torture methods he would be using on them if they did. If you say yes, they will never see the light of day again.

If you say no and that you don’t know why you feel this way, then he will try to think of ways to help you. He personally used his feelings of inadequacy to push him to constantly read and research, so he understands the struggle.

However when he sees the look of defeat and feelings of failure in your eyes, he knows this isn’t something he can’t simply research a potion for.

He softly rubs your hands with his thumbs as he tells you that if it weren’t for you, he and his family would be just as bitter as they were for thousands of years. In a few months, you accomplished more than many sorcerers had in a lifetime.

“MC, none of us would have stuck around you if you were ‘pathetic’. I have lived for thousands of years, met thousands of beings from different realms, but I cannot think of a single one I’d rather be with than you. You are the most incredible thing in my life. What can I do to help you feel the same way about yourself that I feel about you?”

He recommends getting therapy, assuring you that he will be there every step of the way and that he loves you so much. If you do not wish to seek therapy, he will be supportive and understanding. But he will do everything he can to help you feel better.

Asmodeus

He was getting really worried when you ignored his texts all day. Usually when you stayed home sick, you would still next him during class while he told you about all the gossip going on for the day.

When he got home, he didn’t even put his bag up before knocking on your door, “Hon? Are you ok? I’m coming in.”

He noticed you curled up under your blanket, very clearly trying to pretend to be asleep. Something was definitely wrong.

“MC? Sweetie? What’s going on?” He pulled the covers up and refused to listen to your protests when you wanted to go back under them to hide. He placed a hand to your forehead, you felt completely normal.

“Why did you fake being sick? I’m not gonna tell Lucifer, but please tell me what happened? Was it Belial? Did that bitch post something? If she did-“

You stopped his rant by suddenly grabbing onto him and sobbing into his school coat. He was shocked. He had never seen you like this before and it made his worry only grow.

He shushed you and wrapped his arms around you, his hand rubbing your back soothingly.

When you told him about how you felt you didn’t deserve to be in the program, to have pacts, or to even be his partner, he stopped you.

“Don’t you dare say that! Don’t you dare say that, MC!” Tears began to prick his eyes too, it was so much learning that the light of his life felt that they deserved nothing. “You-you’ve done so much for everyone! For me! I love you! We all do!” He held you tighter as some of his tears fell into your hair.

As you held each other, Asmo continued to tell you how he adored you, how beautiful you were, and more between his sobs. He never could have imagined you felt this way and he wish he had known sooner.

After the two of you calmed down, he took you to his room where he drew a bath. While you relaxed in the suds, the two of you spoke about where to go from here.

If you want therapy, he would get you it. If you need him to support you in another way, he would do it without hesitation. He would make sure you felt just as beautiful as you are, inside and out.

Beelzebub

He had just gotten home from practice and was looking forward to enjoying a nice after practice snack with his S/O.

He carried two massive bags of food and went to your room, a pit forming in his stomach when he smelt salt that could only be from tears.

He opened your door and peeked his head in, immediately rushing towards you when he confirmed his suspension that you were crying.

He dropped the bags on the floor and scooped you into his arms. He didn’t even sit down as his eyes scanned over your form, looking to see if you were hurt. It was something he instinctually did when he loved ones cried, truth be told.

“MC? What happened?” You tried to bite your tongue, you didn’t want to burden him with these feelings. It was stupid, it would make you look even dumber than you already were-

“Love bug?” The dam broke the second he used that nickname. You told him all your feelings, about how you felt so stupid in class when something didn’t come naturally to you, how you knew there were people who were so much better than you who deserved to be here, and all the horrible thoughts you had about how you wanted to vanish into thin air.

He hated this. He hated seeing you like this. It reminded him of the pain his family dealt with during the fall. But this time, he would protect you. He would make sure you felt the same love and support you gave him and his family while their emotions were in turmoil.

He doesn’t speak much, just holding your head against his chest as you listen to his steady heartbeat with the occasional affirmation that your self deprecating thoughts weren’t true.

Once you had calmed down, he reached down to grab the previously discarded bags, giving you the snack he had bought you.

“…I don’t like to share food. I don’t like to share much of anything. But it feels right to share with you.” While you ate, you noticed he didn’t even pick up a snack for himself, “You’re a very special person.” It was only after you assured him you couldn’t eat anymore that he began eating himself.

Beel would likely ask Belphie for some advice on how to help with human emotions. When he heard about the concept of therapy, he suggested it to you. Wether you decide to get therapy or would prefer some other means of support, he will be there the whole time.

Belphegor

He was getting a bit annoyed because he couldn’t find his favorite pillow (you) and it was time for his after school nap.

He was absolutely going to have you make this up to him with as many kisses and cuddles his bratty self wanted.

He finally went up to the attic where he saw you holding yourself and choking back tears.

His eyes widened and with speed unbefitting of the Avatar of Sloth, he ran over to you.

“MC? Are you ok? Did you have a nightmare?” He had never seen you like this before, not even when he-

Before his train of thought could continue, you wrapped your arms around him and sobbed into his shirt.

He was frozen for a minute before he slowly wrapped his arms around you. He didn’t say anything, just trying to think of what could have possibly happened.

When you began to pull back and stammer out apologies, his grip tightened. “MC please! Please tell me what happened!” He had a panicked look in his eyes. He needed to know.

Then you began to tell him about your feelings and he felt like he got punched in the gut. The fact that you felt you should be replaced by someone more deserving, about how you just were a fraud who got lucky rather than someone who worked hard for everything they had. It reminded him about how he felt about the fall. And it pained him to know you were suffering the same way.

He quietly shifted to his demonic form, his tail coming to run up and down your back as he laid you down with him. It was funny, you were calling yourself nothing special while a demon who vowed to destroy humanity was treating you like the most precious thing in the world, all because of your bravery and compassionate heart.

“Do you remember in the planetarium when I told you how I felt maybe Lilith should have survived instead?” You nodded, about to protest before he began speaking again, “You told me that I was never allowed to say that again. Well, I’m telling you you’re never allowed to say you’re not enough ever again.”

When you tried to say this was different, he smacked the back of your head lightly with his tail. He kept doing it a few times, sometimes having the fluffy part hit your face slightly, before you began to let out the laugh he loved to dearly.

He would ask if you’ve ever had therapy before or if you would be open to the idea of it. When you had joked about being the family therapist, he had actually done some research on human world therapists.

If you decide to go forward with therapy, he’ll be supportive and make sure to come with you to every appointment (though he may fall asleep in the waiting room…). If you decide against it, then he’ll do his best to make note of when you’re struggling so it never gets to the point it got to again.

You helped him feel like a whole demon again after thousands of years of bitterness and self loathing, let him help you with your struggles as well.

[annoyinglandmagazine]

‘How long have you been self-medicating?’ Gil Galad entered the room immediately zeroing in on the empty jars laid on his herald’s bed. ‘Is this an intervention?’ Elrond muttered humourlessly putting his flask down on the desk. ‘If so I suggest you not bother. This is the only thing that helps. The medicine does not exist so I have to make do when necessary.’

‘Is this about your visions?’ He’d known that they must be unpleasant at times but Elrond had never let on that he found them too distressing to bare. He took Elrond’s silence as confirmation. ‘I may not be able to fully understand, but you can talk to me about it if the things you see disturb you so much. You don’t need to resort to this.’ Elrond sighed running his hand through his hair.

‘It’s not the visions themselves, though they aren’t great either I can’t do anything about them. It’s how my hoar behaves during them. It’s like I lose control entirely and when I wake up things aren’t as I left them. It’s not safe Ereinion. For myself or for others.’ ‘So you sedate yourself.’ How could he not have known about this? This sounded incredibly dangerous and unhealthy and from what he could tell it was a regular occurrence. He was going to commit a kinslaying of his own if this was something those feanorians taught him.

‘How long? It surely isn’t dire enough to warrant this. You’re a healer you know how risky this kind of thing is.’ Elrond spoke, voice quiet and matter of fact despite the horror of what he was saying, as if he didn’t think much of it. Knowing Elrond’s measure of what was actually concerning it was possible he really didn’t. ‘I started experimenting after the fifth time. When I was 10. It really was necessary though.’ Here he took a breath as if reliving a memory he had tried to bury a long time ago.

‘I stabbed Elros. I don’t know why but it was definitely me. I couldn’t cause anyone else pain so I looked for solutions. They didn’t know about it. No one did, I can be very quiet when I want to be and I’d seen where Maedhros kept everything for his bad nights. I tried to stop a few times after I joined the army. Ability to wake up in times of emergency, and such. But it got worse. I stopped trying after I woke up with this.’

He pulled his sleeve back to show a long, deep scar running all the way up his forearm. There would have been a lot of blood. He made a point of not betraying too much emotion and keeping his voice level. ‘Is that how you got all of them?’ He’d never asked about Elrond’s scars before. They’d always worried him but he didn’t want to make Elrond feel uncomfortable when he was already so wary around other people.

‘A lot of them,’ the tone made clear that this was not a conversation they were having now. Perhaps not ever. ‘We could try coming up with a solution. Just -please. I need you to be safe. I can’t do this without you.’ He reached out to take Elrond’s hand squeezing it tightly.

‘You wouldn’t last a day without me.’ And finally there was a smile at the old joke. Elrond carefully laid the cup aside and whispered ‘I’m going to have a bad one in not too long. Would you stay and make sure nothing happens? I think we’ve sparred long enough for you to deal with it.’ He looked scared. In all the dire situations they’d been in Elrond had rarely betrayed genuine fear. Yet this part of himself he couldn’t understand let alone control terrified him. Was this what it was like being the only part Maia in Middle Earth? ‘I will stay as long as you want me here.’

[hold-your-applause]

Rest well, Billy. You will never understand how many hearts you touched

Repose

The silence sat heavily over you, the sudden lack of the sounds of battle almost unsettling you more than the war itself. Just moments ago weapons clashing and soldiers falling were ringing loudly in your ears, but now the world hummed in its absence.

Whatever it was trying to tell you, you weren't ready to listen.

You wiped the sweat from your brow, your eyes darting around to try to process what this quiet meant.

The war was over, and you had won.

Caspar's cheerful yelling was a welcome break in the silence, but when he clapped a congratulatory hand on your shoulder and shook you before darting off to find the rest of your companions, you found your mind racing with only one thought.

Where is he?

With the danger gone, your legs now felt like they were made of lead, the effort to move them much harder than they'd ever been. You resorted to shuffling around, and after a few minutes of moving your body around, you realized just how exhausted you were.

It had been the longest of days.

You were happy to hear Linhardt's complaining about Caspar's volume, glad he was in well enough condition to gripe about anything. You spared them a quick glance, watching poor Linhardt being dragged to his feet to follow Caspar to wherever his heart led them.

Your tired eyes scanned ahead of you again, hearing soldiers assessing each other for wounds or discussing who had fallen, and each moment that passed filled you with more worry when you couldn't seem to find the man you were looking for.

You feared you would find him on the ground instead of on his feet.

What was most likely only a minute more had passed before you saw a familiar cascade of orange hair out of the corner of your eye, relief washing over you.

He was in fact not on his feet, but he was clearly upright and breathing. He and his trusted steed were sat out in the open, him leaning his back against his trusted partner as they both were attempting to catch their breath. You felt your feet lighten as they moved in their direction, bringing you before them.

"Ferdinand."

His head swiveled up ungracefully to look at you, and you had never seen his face looking so worn before. Despite this, his eyes lit up behind their lids when he saw you, a soft smile growing across his lips.

"I'm overjoyed you are alright." He said, shifting so he could stand on his feet. "You are... quite the sight for sore--"

He stumbled then, his legs giving out under him and forcing you to throw your arms out to catch him, his added weight bringing you both to your knees. Your arms were tight around him and you couldn't resist resting your chin on his shoulder.

"Sore what?" You asked cheekily.

He chuckled, his own arms loosely snaking around your middle. Normally he would reserve such public displays for behind closed doors, but you knew this was no ordinary day.

"Sore everything." He replied, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling away to look at your face. He brought a hand up to cup your jaw, his thumb lightly brushing your cheek. "What about you?"

"I'm afraid to find out how much this is going to ache in the morning." You said, seeing amusement flash in his eyes.

He nodded, letting his hand drop. "I know what you mean. I don't think I have ever felt this spent in my entire life."

You nodded, taking a look around. "I don't think I can get us both standing, and something tells me your legs are done for the day." You said, looking behind him at his horse. "I know Linhardt and Caspar are around here somewhere. I'm sure they'll find us sooner or later. There's no rush to get moving."

"That is good to hear." He said, running his hand over his face. "I think you may be right. I am in no condition to walk."

You helped him lean back against his horse again. "Then we'll rest until then. Just you and me." You let him get comfortable before settling in next to him, taking his hand. You worried his horse would find it to be too much weight, but it seemed unbothered.

"I always imagined this moment to be much more jubilant. That the celebration would be much louder." He allowed himself to rest his head against yours. "Instead, I fear I may fall asleep here."

"Then sleep." You encouraged him, gently nuzzling him. "You've earned it, Ferdie. You fought hard."

He hummed in response, slowly lacing his fingers with yours. "Not without telling you I love you."

You smiled, gently squeezing his hand. "I love you, too."

No other words passed between you, and before long, you heard his breathing slow as he finally dozed off. You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of his heartbeat against your arm.

The world could wait.

[angelicm00n]

TW: uncensored mentions of m.rd.r, s.h

oc backstory??

Surely.. one must think not being human.. is simply amazing. The powers you may have.. potential immortality, strength? But truthfully speaking, it is not as beautiful as it seems.

Sometimes I reminisce back to when my mother would hold my hand as we walked to the town well to get some fresh water to cook, or how my father would help with controlling my strength through training and my brother stayed indoors learning new spells. I’d join in learning new spells too, even if I had less magical prowess compared to him. Ah.. yes. Those were good times. When we were home, together.. safe and happy.

Now.. when I think of home. I think of the aching screams of my people, begging for mercy from those hunters’ grasps. Oh. Those hunters. Those damned humans. How I heard my mother cry out, pleading for me and my brother to run away. How we went as fast as our little feet could take us, while we watched our home go in flames at the hands of the humans who hated us.. calling us monsters, yelling to eradicate us all.

Now, when I think of home, I think of the blood that stained my hands as I attempted to survive, resorting to murder. Funny isn’t it? How a 6 year old girl had to resort to killing others to feel safe. I think of the guilt. Oh that terrible guilt that ached me so much I had brought my own blade against my arms. The tears that spilled from my eyes as I wished for a better life than this, for someone to come to save me for I was just a little girl who needed care.

When I think of home.. I am hit with the painful memories that ache my heart.. that ache my body.. that make me pull at my hair and scream and cry, begging for some kind of comfort or help.

When I think of home.. I look back… and I wonder what would’ve became of me and my brother if she hadn’t saved me. That angel sent from above.. she was my saviour. How she took me in without questions and cared for me.. just like my mother did. If she was never there.. what would’ve happened to us..?

Sometimes I think that being a non human is more of a curse than a blessing. I may have been given the ability to use magic without having being taught.. and great strength and eyesight.. but as well as that I have been given the title of a monster that must be destroyed, feared that I will hurt others because no matter what I do, that’s all I’ll be known for.

It hurts. It truly does hurt.

- Claire.

[sweetie-sire]

Ayo i wrote some hizzie garbage 🗑 im both sleep deprived and tired of life so whatevr have at it wolves.

Its not good so lol but this tag is dead af so idk

Also dodie is sad af

~i can finally see ~

"I dont understand how you always manage to choose her side josie" im enraged beyond what i thought i could ever possibly be and my naive idiot little sister doesnt manage to get it through her thick little skull. Mikaelson is gone.

"No lizzie YOU dont understand, shes just lost she needs us now more than ever! How can you not see that?!" Shes been at this for the past 20 minutes and quite frankly its getting old.

"Jo, all i see is our dearest dad finally finding out the prodigal daughter is just an evil coniving bitch" i see josie flinch at the dry humor but i no longer care.

~youre as fucked up as me~

Josie gets up and walks out of the room, before she exits she turns to me "I get that youre hurt lizzie but you need to remember why hope even resorted to this in the first place. She gave up her life and landons life just to make sure everyone else would be ok." I can see that bringing up landon hurts my sister there are tears in her eyes and im so tired of everyone bringing up deceased bird boy, since he will probably just find a way to come back anyway.

"Yeah well maybe we can go ask dad if we should forgive hope then!" I yell but shes already left and my snark is useless and i feel so frustrated i could tear my hair out.

~so how do we win?~

Josie has once again taken upon herself to go chasing after our long lost tribrid trying to find a way to help her or whatever. I know just the way to help hope.

Cleo sowande is my very own personal hero right now.

~brave face talk so lightly, hide the truth~

Im driving from dead end to dead end and all i can manage to think about is hopes stupid evil "im a Mikaelson fear me" face and scoff

The balls on this bitch.

I pull up on a trail i picked up and the feeling of this dive bar is more unsettling than the last. I walk in and instantly feel the need to relieve my stomach of its contents.

Theres body parts and blood everywhere. Some guys head chopped off by a pool table. Brutal i dont even know how nobody has been in here to clean up the mess. Oh a concealment spell nice to know she cares about some things i guess. She could have at least lit the place on fire.

~im sick of losing soulmates so where do we begin?~

"Why would i burn my own room down Lizzie"

"With my family history im not exactly immune to those issues. I would never say that stuff about you"

I scoff remembering that and for some reason the back of my throat feels tight.

Josie may be right she might need help, but i cant find it in me to see the same girl thats understanding and i have grown to begrudgingly tolerate to be the one leaving a trail of bodies up and down the coast.

She mauled my dad whats stopping her from doing the same to the rest of us.

And i might have grown to love her too but josie is too soft to do what needs to be done.

Someone has to stop her.

~time and hearts will wear us thin so which path will you take~

I dont know what the fuck possessed me to say that idiocy. Impending death? Minute insanity? I can see the little gears in her tiny evil head turning

Theres a spark of someone i used to know flicker through her eyes.

And i see it the moment the hurt flashes in her mind what she went through to get to this point. I see her intent

The resolve. To end me. What did i expect?

Some sick twisted voice in my head tells me to keep going and see if i can reach her.

I slowly try to approach her and my voice is cracking i dont even know what im saying anymore

I see it in her eyes whatever hope was left is gone

Ironic

Before she has a chance to snap and as soon as i feel her hands wrap around my neck i rush forward

I close my eyes and say fuck it.

God i must really be crazy.

Her lips are unmoving but still soft i must have caught her by surprise because im still alive so i press on and i can feel her reciprocrate for a second and theres relief in my heart that maybe this will all turn out ok. Due to an unconsensual kiss of all fucking things.

Its something i never really considered doing while i was on my way here but minute insanity must have won over my fried brain.

I sigh as i feel soft hands tighten around my neck and it all goes black

Thats going to be one awkward as fuck conversation when she realizes im not actually dead.

Whatever serves her right.

*insert dodie lyric cuz im cant be bothered to do it*

+ lizzie wakes up and is super cool about it while hope is a crying mess on the floor cuz she killed this bombshell and sassy lizzie is everything.

[oldmanbayou]

Shy Cat Diary - 1 month

I'm sorry I've been trash at my shy cat documentation. He's now been with us for a month! He is still getting used to my spouse but he's chill around me and has fortunately gotten over his annoying Napoleon cat phase.

I did make one horribly wrong move though, and I will confess here so that others may learn from my oversights. About a week ago, I got some of those catnip laced paper bags. He's a catnip addict and I thought he'd have fun with it. Yeah, no. He didn't have fun. I left him for the night and by the next morning he had regressed back into a hidey cat who was afraid of everyone and everything and would hiss and spit at you if you dare peek at him hiding in his paper bag.

This here is exactly why I think advice to provide plenty of hiding spots for a shy cat is shit advice...

A space where they can go to feel safe: Absolutely fine. A space where they can *hide*: No.

So I promptly removed the paper bag.

He continued to be timid for the rest of the weekend. It is common for cats to start pulling their fur out or overgroom in response to recent stress or trauma, or because they're bored. Some people do this too -- in fact I'm one of them and have had this issue my whole life. Think hair pulling, skin picking, nail-biting, etc -- those mildly destructive behaviors we tend to shrug off as just being nervous habits. It's actually a fairly common though not well known type/relative of obsessive compulsive disorder (google "body-focused repetitive behavior" if you're curious). This dude is a fur puller. And he eats his fur. Which then makes him have bad hairballs, which makes him not feel well, which makes him not want to eat anything, which makes him feel even worse, which makes him feel vulnerable, which puts him back into scared cat mode.

The bag incident came at a particularly bad time because he hadn't been feeling well.

I have had several cats in the past who were fur pullers. Usually they get over it on their own once the stress passes, but sometimes it becomes a habit and they need to be brought to the vet for intervention. Unless there's some underlying medical condition to explain away the fur pulling, they will get prescribed antidepressants. At least in my experience, they don't need to take the medication for life -- just long enough to be broken of the habit, and then they're fine!

If not for fear of being pushed back about 30 steps if I dared bring this cat to the vet, I'd have brought him to the vet for his fur pulling weeks ago. Kitty antidepressants would do him a lot of good and probably would have made this whole transition to a new home a thousand times easier.

So anyway, on with the story -- Sick hairball-filled cat. I tried giving him some hairball medicine. There are several different kinds you can get over the counter at a pet store -- the ones that are a gel that come in a tube though are the kind that work. A lot of cats will just eat it without coaxing, but he won't. You can put it on their paw to entice them to lick it off and eat it, which is normally what I would have done, but he was acting so fearful of me there just wasn't any good way to go about it. I tried and failed miserably…So the next solution would be to mix it into their food. But...he wasn't eating...I opened so many different cans of food and he wouldn't touch anything.

Finally, as a last ditch effort, I resorted to something that I don't think I would necessarily recommend to others, but I'll admit here so you all know when things don't go as smoothly for you as it did for me (trust me, I've had my fair share of rocky moments), it's because I cheated. Illegal prescriptions. The one in question happens to be one that I know a lot about and happened to have on hand. Mirtazapine.

My now deceased cat, Moppet, in her late years was on mirtazapine as a maintanence drug as she had a chronic medical issue that caused her to have no appetite. My other cat, Tews, had also been prescribed it a few years ago when he was stressed out because we were moving. He made himself sick and stopped eating. And funny enough, I take mirtazapine as an antidepressant and was prescribed it because I don't respond to SSRIs and "lack of appetite" is a pretty pronounced symptom of depression and anxiety for me (if this describes you, Ask Your Doctor About Mirtazapine). Mirtazapine for humans is a decent enough antidepressant. The cat form of mirtazapine though is a WONDER DRUG. Makes them good and hungry, and calms them right down! (by calm, I mean turns them into an affectionate spaz) And the best part -- it now comes in a transdermal form, so you can just rub some on their ear lobe!

I am almost certain -- more than certain -- had I brought him to the vet, they would've stressed him out with a bunch of stupid bullshit first, insisted on an ultrasound to make sure he doesn't have a blockage or something else going on, and charge $1000 for it only to tell me exactly what I already know and had been trying to tell them -- "oh, guess he's just stressed and has some hairballs from obsessive grooming!" -- and then proceed to tell me about this great wonder drug for cats called mirtazapine. And then I'd bring him home and would need to find a pair of kevlar gloves if there's any chance in me rubbing anything on his ear in the next week.

Well anyway, fortunately I got to skip all that this time. I had some kitty mirtazapine leftover from Tews' incident. It was technically expired, which in the case of mirtazapine, the worst thing that might happen with an expired tube is it just won't do anything. I crossed my fingers and gave it a shot. And luckily, it worked miracles! The boy was back to himself in just a couple of hours, and was more than happy to eat food laced with hairball medicine. And that's all it took -- He recovered very fast and hasn't had any incidents since.

(Liability notice: If you take mirtazapine and think you can try this at home, it's a good sign you should take your cat to the vet. The dosage of kitty mirtazapine is completely different than the human variety of the same drug.)

He is still overgrooming sometimes, but he's definitely getting better and I have a feeling he will stop on his own eventually. I have continued lacing his food with hairball medicine every morning just for prevention, and will continue to do so until he kicks his fur eating habit. There's really only so much I can do about this behavior--He doesn't just do it when he's stressed, but he'll do it if he's bored or sometimes just for no apparent reason. When I catch him overgrooming, I try to distract him by playing with him and that usually does the trick for at least a little while. I have also discovered he enjoys music! Particularly harp music. And bird videos on youtube. I also try to brush him every day to reduce the amount of fur he can potentially eat but he’s one of those cats that insists on walking around, rubbing his face all over everything whenever he’s being groomed with a brush, so it’s tricky! If this overgrooming an ongoing habit of his that can't be fully broken, I will eventually take him to the vet for it and get him a proper prescription. But I just don't think inflicting that kind of trauma on him right now is in his best interest if there's any possibility of avoiding it.

[xoxo-teddybear]

The Bakugou Kids - Bakugou Katsuki

(Dad)Bakugou x (Mom)f!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Crack, Cursing

Summary: Bakugou and Y/N love their son with their entire beings, but sometimes, parents need a break. Especially when those parents are responsible for creating a literal demon spawn. He is kind, well behaved, and cute of course! But he does have Bakugou blood in him. With Y/N already away on a girls trip, Bakugou has to find out how he’s going to deal with his (now) many, many kids.

A/N: You passed down your duplication quirk down to Katsuo.

BAKUGOU’S MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You asked your husband as you stood at the doorway. “Katsumi may be a calm baby but she’s still a baby. And Katsuo’s quirk just kicked in and it is mine. I would know how difficult it can be to manage.”

“Stop worrying, Babe. It’s just a duplication quirk. And he’s only 5, how powerful can it really be?”Katsuki said, wrapping his arms around you. “Just go on your little girl’s trip with Ponytail and Racoon Eyes. I can handle the brat.”

You looked at your husband with a raised brow and smile before rolling your eyes and giving him a kiss. “Alright then. I’ll see you in a few days!”

With that, you walked out of the house and into the cab to meet your friends at the resort. Katsuki chuckled before walking back into the house to find his son napping on the couch. His spiky, blonde locks were all messed up with bed head while his E/C eyes he inherited from you remained shut. Katsuki walked over to his newborn daughter and picked her up while he took a seat next to Katsuo’s sleeping form, rubbing at his soft hair until he woke up.

“Can’t be all that bad, right Katsumi?”

The baby girl merely cooed with sparkling ruby eyes that mimicked her father’s.

—

Wow. Wrong. He was so wrong! It had only been 2 days since your departure but things had already gone so wrong! When you said your quirk was difficult to manage, Katsuki thought it would be difficult for Katsuo to manage. Not him!

Katsuki should’ve known his son would’ve taken the opportunity to act out while his mother was away. He had always been your little angel while Katsuki saw him as his little gremlin. With Y/N gone, Katsuo has been pushing all kinds of limits. Limits that had Katsuki beat.

Katsuo had been fortunate enough to inherit a quirk. And not just any quirk, but your quirk. Duplication. Basically, he can create copies of himself. When you were his age, you could only create 4, max. Katsuo was different though. He had Bakugou blood flowing through him. He was advanced the second he was born. So now, Katsuki was stuck looking after Katsumi, Katsuo, and Katsuo’s 16 other copies.

“Aye! Number 15, you’re gonna break that lamp! 11 and 8! Don’t wrestle in the mud! Go take a bath! NUMBER 3 GET OFF THE KITCHEN ISLAND! KATSUMI!” The adult blond screamed, looking for his infant daughter, eventually finding her sleeping in her little rocker on the living room floor. “Oh right, you don’t talk yet.”

Katsuki sighed as he slumped down next to his daughter, and leaned his back against the couch. He looked around the room and saw the 17 Katsuo’s making a ruckus around the house. All he could do was question how the hell is 3 month old daughter could possibly sleep through all this.

Katsuki almost lost all hope for humanity until a knock was heard on his front door. Knowing exactly who was there, he quickly got up from his place on the floor and ran to the entrance. “You idiots are finally here!”

Katsuki pulled in his 3 friends, the boys of the Bakusquad, and slammed the door shut. The 3 friends all stood in shock at the sight of the house. Not that it was overly messy or anything. It’s just that there were about 16 more figures in the house that aren’t usually there.

“You gotta help me!” Katsuki said, running infront of them, shaking his best friend’s shoulders. “I love my kids! I do! I love Katsuo, I swear! BUT I DIDNT SIGN UP TO BE A FATHER OF 18 FREAKING DEVILS!”

“Okay! Okay, relax man. We’re here.” Kirishima said, patting his friend’s shoulder as he wept. “How the hell are we gonna take care of 17 little Bakugous?”

“Right? We thought 1 Kacchan was a lot. Then you brought another one into the world, who apparently brought some unannounced friends.” Kaminari joked.

“They’re demons!” Katsuki exclaimed. “This has to be some fucking Karma for the shit I did. I knew I should’ve listened to my old hag better. Now shits came back to bite me in the- HEY! PUT YOUR SISTER DOWN! SHE’S NOT A FOOTBALL!”

Katsuos number 7 and 5 placed a sleeping Katsumi back in her rocker with an annoyed pout before running off to play something else.

“Welllll, there’s nothing that 3 cool uncles can’t fix!” Sero enthusiastically said. “Hey kiddos! Who’s ready to have some fun?”

All the mini blondes stopped their movements, some freezing mid-air, and looked to the slim man. They all shouted in joy at the sight of their uncles and ran to pounce on the 3 men, including their father. From the point of view of the boys in the Bakusquad, it looked like a Bakugou stampede.

“Run, run, RUN, RUN, RUUUNN!!!!” Kaminari screamed as the boys all ran for their lives to escape the herd of Katsuos. This was going to be an interesting day.

—

Safe to say after the day had passed, the boys of the Bakusquad were completely exhausted. Sero had half his clothes torn, Kirishima’s hair fell from it’s great spikes and even lost some red hues, Katsuki’s eye bags had never been heavier, and Kaminari was just straight knocked the fuck out. They were all thrown across the couch as Katsumi rested in Katsuki’s arms.

“What do we do?” Kirishima exclaimed.

“I don’t know.” Katsuki said, looking at his scrambling son(s). “There’s just too many.”

“And we’ve already lost a soldier.” Sero said pointing to Kaminari’s sleeping form. Katsuki and Kirishima followed his gaze and bowed their heads in respect towards the defeated Kaminari.

“Well now what? Is Bakugou just supposed to live like this for the next 3 days?” Kirishima asked.

“Hell no. If I do, there’s not gonna be anymore Katsuki. I’ll just be some body without a soul because my damn gremlins sucked it outta’ me.” Katsuki said with his head dropped down.

“Well how do we get them to calm down?” Sero questioned.

“I don’t know. They’re all mini me’s. Nobody could get me to relax.” Katsuki said in defeat, but that’s when Kirishima had a lightbulb go off for him.

“Except for Y/N!” The red head said, popping up from his seat on the couch.

“Uh, if you haven’t noticed Shitty Hair, this all started because she’s away on her trip.” Katsuki said with sarcasm as he looked at his friend as if he was an idiot.

“I know that! But Y/N wasn’t the only one to tame you, Bakugou!” Kirishima said in excitement.

“So then who else?” Katsuki asked.

“You know,” Kirishima smirked. “Denki’s favorite person. Y/N and.........”

It took Katsuki a second before his eyes popped when he finally got it. “No!”

“Yes!” Kirishima said.

“No way! We’re not going to her!” Katsuki complained.

“Who?” Sero asked.

“Nobody!” Katsuki screamed.

“Oh it’s somebody alright! Somebody who was able to tame the beast in Bakugou the second he was born!” Kirishima said.

“Who?” Sero asked. Katsuki finally sighed before he gave in, realizing this was his only hope for sanity. He grabbed his phone and made a quick call before explaining to his dark-haired friend.

“The demon of all demons...”

—

The door opened to reveal a tall standing brunette and an elder feminine blonde.

“...My mother.”

—

The boys of the Bakusquad all sat lined up on the couch as Mitsuki stood at Katsuki’s end and smacked her son’s head.

“You idiots! Y/N leaves for 2 days and all hell breaks lose?!” Mitsuki screamed at the 3 young men.

“You old hag! Quit hitting me! Ima’ grown man for crying out loud!” Katsuki screamed as he rubbed his head. Masaru simply bounced the sleeping Katsumi in his arms as he watched the scene play out.

“Well if you’re such a grown man then why can’t you manage your own kids without your wife’s help?!” Mitsuki argued, leaving Katsuki silent as he grumbled. The eldest blonde sighed before continuing. “Alright listen, I’ll watch these little devils for the next few days until Y/N comes back. I’d love to spend some time with my grandbrats. Why don’t the 3 of you go take a break and-“

“THANKS! Let’s go losers!” Katsuki said dragging his friends to the exit. Mitsuki and Masaru only laughed at their son’s behavior as they began tending to the kids.

The boys of the Bakusquad all quickly walked out of the house and headed for their cars as they all walked together.

“So, where to?” Sero asked.

“We could go head up that new resort in Tokyo!” Kaminari suggested.

“Naahhh. That’s where Y/N’s having her girl’s trip. Wifey would kill me if she saw me there instead of at home with the kids.” Katsuki said with his hands in his pockets. Kirishima raised his brow at this.

“Oh? So then, maybe we should go back and-“

“You know, on second thought,” Katsuki said with wide eyes once Kirishima made the suggestion. He took his hands out of his pockets and placed them behind his friend’s backs to keep them moving. “Maybe she won’t kill me..if I’m lucky..and wish..upon a shooting star....a million times over. Hah.....yeah. TO THE RESORT!”

As they walked, Kaminari attempted to look at the house once more, prompting Katsuki to turn his friend’s head back around. “No, no, no, don’t look back, they can smell fear.”

[lily-drake]

Death

Death was nothing new in Marinette’s life.  In fact it played a large role.  Her friends and city had died a hundred times over.  Her brother.  Her funny, smart, loving, dramatic brother had died at the hands of a mad man.  She didn’t think it was wrong for her to use the horse miraculous to visit her brother's grave.  It was officially five years after all.  He would be 20, he would have loved to plan out her 16th birthday this year.  She sat down and read Pride and Prejudice out loud, only a few tears falling as she glanced at the grave every so often.  She had also brought a bouquet of white lilies, statices, red carnations, and white daisies.  Soft grass laid over the dirt, the sun gleamed above, and sometimes when she would lean against the grave it was almost like she could feel him.

Dark storm clouds began to cloud the sky, and she knew she would have to leave soon, though she didn’t want to.  Dad would be upset if he caught her, though considering how many weeds she had to remove from the grave and how abandoned it looked, she doubted anyone had visited any time soon.  Suddenly the rain began to pour down and it felt like the earth shook.  She felt a great imbalance, but where, and how?  She touched both of her ears and she could feel her miraculous still there, Tikki even poked her head out from her bag with a look of fear.  A shiver ran down Marinette’s spine as rain came pouring down soaking everything in sight.  She looked around, and she kept spinning searching for something, anything that could have caused or been affected by the imbalance.  She waited there for many minutes just waiting, when she felt the dirt beneath her feet begin to shift a little.  She quickly moved away and watched as the dirt slowly moved and shifted.  She felt sick, because the dirt moving was directly where Jason was lying in eternal rest.  This couldn’t be right, this must be some mistake!  Her brother had died, she had seen the body, it haunted her nightmares for so many nights.  He’s been gone for five years!  This can’t be possible without some type of wish.

The grass began to move and shift away, and a fleshy mud covered hand raised from the ground causing a scream to rip from her lungs.  Her body sprung into action before her mind caught up to her beginning to help dig up her brother's grave, and when she saw the jet black hair covered in dirt and mud she knew that it was him.  She heaved him out from the hole and stared in shocked horror as he just sat there staring at her.  His eyes were the same blue she remembered, but they were so clouded.  Fear, confusion, and nothing shown in his eyes, like he wasn’t even truly there.  This must be a dream, it has to be, no, a nightmare.  Her brother shouldn’t be back, he died, she saw his limp body in dad’s hands, even if Alfred and bluebird tried to stop her.  But the imbalance was real, she could tell, and he was affected by it.

Slowly she raised her hand and hesitantly placed a hand on his cheek.  He leaned into her hand, though his eyes were still clouded and void.  He may be alive, but he wasn’t fully…alive.  She tackled her older brother into a hug and began sobbing onto him, but just sat there, head leaning against hers.  Pressing her ear against his chest she could hear his gentle heartbeat, and just for a moment everything seemed like it would be ok.  Then she felt a sharp prick in her neck and the world faded to black.

________

Marinette awoke to darkness.  She tried to sit up and felt her hands held behind her back being held together by something cold and thick.  Memories flooded back into her mind and she snapped into awareness and looked around.  It was dark, though there was a small light coming from a window far above where she could not ever reach.  The walls seemed to be made of thick stones and there was a heavy iron door a few feet in front of her.  Jason wasn’t there though, he wasn’t in the room, she didn’t understand.  Suddenly the door opened and she looked up and saw her mother’s green eyes.  Her panic grew again, how did she get here, was she captured too?  She had visited her often in Paris.  She was very vague about her job, and she knew it was probably sketchy, but could it be bad enough to be captured?

“Marinette, My Darling.  I apologize for your treatment, I did not realize that you were part of this.”

Talia rushed towards her daughter and unlocked the chains.  She was pulled into a tight hug that Marinette quickly returned.  After a few moments she pulled away but held her shoulders gently.

“I must show you something, come.”

Talia quickly stood and helped her daughter to her feet and walked swiftly through the calls of Nanda Parabat.

“What is mom?”

Talia smiled at that, she had always loved when her daughter called her that.

“It’s a surprise, My Flower.”

A few more twists though hallways and they stopped in front of a thick wooden door.

“I want you to meet someone.”

The door was pushed open and there sat a small baby in a crip with dark black hair, tanned skin, and dark green eyes.  Marinette gasped and covered her mouth,

“Meet your brother, Damian.”

Marinette slowly walked over and stared at Damian through the top of the crib.  He silently watched and studied her without making a sound.

“He’s about 3 months old.”

Talia said, smiling happily as she watched her daughter run her fingers through Damian’s small tresses of hair.  With a snap of her finger one of her shadows stepped next to her.

“Bring Jason.”

And with that order they were gone returning a few minutes later with a boy who was alive physically, but was mentally gone.  She could fix that though, it would be the last resort if all else failed, but she could fix it.  Marinette looked up when she heard Jason’s footsteps and her bright smile fell slightly into a small sad one.

“Jay-Jay.”

She whispered softly as she took slow steps towards the boy.  She quickly ran and hugged him again.  He no longer smelled like mud and he wasn’t wearing his suit, and he was….he was alive again!  Tears fell down her cheeks, because she missed him so much.

________

Marinette stayed with her mom in what she learned was Nanda Parabat.  She trained with Jason, but he was catatonic, just going through the motions blankly.  It worried her, especially as she watched her mother grow more anxious.  She cared for her little brother, and wondered if her dad knew, or if he would even care.  She often looked at Paris news for when she needed to go for Akuma attacks, but if her host parents even realized she was gone.  They hadn’t, nor had any of her “friends” apparently as they hadn’t sent her a single thing from the weeks she’s been gone.

Marinette knew that Nada Parabat wasn’t a good place, knew that the people were bad, knew that her grandfather was the head of it.  He didn’t seem to care who she was, he just thought she was some nurse for Damian, and she was thankful for that.  She knew that the Lazarus Pits were here, what they did, how they were made, how her grandfather used them for selfish purposes.  She didn’t do anything though, she was mad at her father for sending her away, mad that he adopted a bee kid only a year after he sent her away, mad that he never talked to her, mad that Dick never fought for her or looked for her, mad that Jason was forced to wake up and climb his way out of his grave only to be practically brain dead, mad that her classmates believed lies over her, mad that her host parents believed them and treated her like dirt or an invisible object meant to seen and not heard, mad that Chat Noir would leave her during battles because she didn’t return his affections, and mad that no one cared that she was gone!  So she trained as hard as she could, made sure that she perfected everything her mother threw at her.  Took care of her family and made sure they knew how thankful she was for them and loved them.  Then when she finally got a text from someone it was insults for being a horrible person and hurting Lila when she hadn’t been there for weeks!

She threw her phone at the wall and the crack echoed around the room.  Her breathing was harsh and ragged and then the tears she had been holding back finally fell.  Sobs wracked her body as she bit her lip to keep silent.  She tried to take in deep shuddering breaths, but it was no use and the sobs came out.  Her knees felt weak and she crumpled to the ground.  The door burst open and she saw her mom there knife in hand looking around the room with swift deadly eyes.  When she didn’t see any visible threats she kneeled in front of her daughter and looked directly into her eyes.  Eyes a storming blue that flooded with tears and made her heart ache and her want to murder whoever made her precious daughter look so broken.

“My Flower, what’s wrong?”

“N-nobody cares ab-about me!  No one cares that I’m g-gone.  Everyb-body hates me, and I’m so tired of it!  I’ll n-never be enough for an-anybody and I’m t-trying so h-hard to do wh-what everyone needs or exp-ects me to be!”

Marinette stuttered out between sobs.  Talia glared at that and felt anger at Bruce.  She thought that he at least checked in with her every once in a while.  She had guessed wrong then.  She pulled her daughter into a hug and let her cry against her shoulder.

“Shh, shh.  It’s okay.  You are perfect the way you are Marinette.  You don’t have to prove anything to me.  You’re such a good sister, you train so hard, and you have so many amazing skills and talents.  You are enough, don’t let anyone say anything different.”

Marinette gripped onto her mom and they both just sat there in silence as Marinette finally just cried.  After who knows how long Marinette gently pushed away and looked her mom directly in the eyes with complete seriousness said,

“I want you to help me fake my death.  If everyone wants to pretend I’m gone or wants me to disappear, then fine.  I will.  I don’t want to be seen anymore.”

Talia stared at her daughter in shock for a moment then gave her a small smile.

“It will be done my dear, you will be free.”

“Thank you mom.”

Taglist:

@queenz-z @aespades @fandomsaremylifeline @stainedglassm @toodaloo-kangaroo @prettylittlebutterflie @trippingovermyfeet @liquid-luck-00 @unoriginalmess @buginetye @miraculouslydumb @laurcad123

[ynscrazylife]

Hey !! i love ur writing style <3 i wanted to ask you if you could write a loki x reader where the reader and loki have been best friends for a long time now and after he faked his death in tdw he knocks on their door and the reader and loki have an argument and then they kiss?? maybe like the scene in crimson peak “you lied to me” “i did” “you told me you loved me” “i do” smth similar? :)

The Greatest Deception | loki angst fluff fic

Summary: After Loki reveals himself to be alive, Y/N has some choice words to say. Loki has a question.

Authors Note: Thanks for requesting! Also, I want to say that I fully support and acknowledge that Loki is genderfluid. Seeing as this fic was requested with Loki having he/him pronouns, I will use those pronouns. (Also, I didn’t know which pronouns you wanted me to write since you mentioned they for the reader but typically I use she/her, so lemme know if you want that edited)

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

MCU Masterlist #1 | MCU Masterlist #2 |  Main Masterlist 

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

header c @/someiconsx

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice was muffled through the door and the one in question rolled from her side and onto her stomach as she laid in her bed. A low groan emitted from the creature whose limbs were tangled in the blanket and sheets.

. . .

“Lady Y/N?”

A short knock-knock accompanied the repeating words, and Y/N had a feeling of that the lovely woman who she’d love to talk to at any other time wouldn’t stop until she replied.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, smoothed over her unruly hair, and finally pulled the covers up so her pajamas wouldn’t be seen and called out, “Come in!”

The woman opened the door and sent her a sheepish smile. “The All-Father has requested your present, ma’am,” she informed her.

Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. “Do you know the reason as to why?” She quizzed.

The woman spared a quick, darting glance at Y/N’s window. “Well, the All-Father has requested all of the palace’s royals and higher-ups to gather in the courtyard. He is gathering local citizens for a, ah, play, and more would like, in this words, his ‘most esteemed confidants to enjoy,’,” she answered, subtly bouncing her weight from one foot to the other.

Y/N thought for a moment. This was the first time she was hearing that the King was holding a play — not to mention, the fact that the last play (if you could even call it that, because by Heimdall’s recounting it was horrific) was held before any of the children of Odin were born.

Just thinking about that caused a twinge to hit her stomach and for it to twist up. Loki. Odin’s youngest child and the one that had most recently left her, as he sacrificed herself to save his vaillant brother, Prince Thor. It had been weeks, maybe even a month, since Y/N had heard the news and had been resorted to a lonely, saddened version of herself. Loki was her best friend, the person she trusted more than anything and—no, no, who was she kidding? He’s more than that, and he deserves to be remembered as more than that by her.

He’s also the one that she loves, and has loved for at least the past year when she realized it.

Nonetheless, she had taken many steps to get through the grief of Loki’s dead — as had his father — and she wasn’t going to let all her hard work crumble down on one, singular thought.

“Very well, then. Please inform the All-Father that I will be there shortly, thank you,” she said.

The woman nodded and bowed her head before exiting.

Once the door had been fully shut and she could hear footsteps no more, Y/N crossed over to her window and drew back the curtains, not having missed the look at said window.

The sunlight poured into her room but the stage was indeed sent. Rows of fine chairs sat with rows of fine people in them. In front, Odin stood with a red curtain drawn closed behind him. His arms were gesturing wildly and he had a big grin on his face as he gave his speech.

Despite the curiosity that itched into Y/N’s face, she pushed it aside. She had never seen the King conduct himself in such ways, but alas, everyone grieved differently. So, she closed the curtains and got dressed for the day ahead.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

The moment Y/N stepped outside, she could’ve sworn that there was already long beads of sweat trailing down her skin. She let out a huff but journeyed on towards the courtyard, as this formal royal wear was necessary and she had no intention of pissing off Sir Snotty-Dickhead — as she called him (he had some fancy and long name she couldn’t remember, in her defense) — who was Odin’s right hand man.

By the time she got there, Odin was still rambling on with his speech, but his sudden notice of Y/N saved the guests from boredom.

“Aha, the guest of honor! Lady Y/N, herself,” Odin announced, bringing his hands together in a clap and gesturing for her to come toward him.

She betrayed herself and her cheeks involuntarily reddened as all eyes laid on her. She approached Odin and curtsied out of respect, but her mind was full of wonderings of why she, of all, would be singled out.

“I’m sure you all know who Lady Y/N is, yes?” He began, briefly pausing before continuing. “If you sadly do not, let me tell you. Lady Y/N had been a friend of the royal family, specifically my child, Loki’s—” the name caused her to suck in a sharp breath, “—and she was granted the title of Lady to uphold the image of the palace and to complete very important Asgardian duties.”

Once he stopped talking and the crowd clapped politely, Y/N took the opportunity she was presented before it’s door could close and quickly went and sat in her seat, the only seat not occupied yet, in the front row.

Odin then began speaking against whilst he walked to the side, “Speaking of my dear child Loki, this play that has been put together is one designed to honor him and his heroic sacrifice. Without further ado . . . ” He let his words trail off, and the red curtain pulled open.

Y/N’s face contorted into surprise at the words, not expecting this to take place. Again, she reminded herself, everyone grieved differently, so she decided to give it a chance. However, as the play went on, she was quick to realize that honoring Loki wasn’t the intention here. The horrid acting could be excused but Odin himself allowing this mockery of how Loki died? Of how he sacrificed himself? Well, with every second that passed, her face heated more and more — and not due to the sweat — and she grit her teeth, just barely refraining from yelling.

The worst part for her came though when the actor who played Loki did a dramatic reenactment of his sacrificed and the actor who played Thor did the worst fake crying ever. Y/N turned to the others, expecting them to be just as enraged as she was, but was floored to find that no—they were laughing. And not just that, but Odin was having himself a chuckle as well!

Her fingers tightly gripped the edges of her chair and she forced herself to look straight ahead, just about able to hold in her tears until the play was over and the actors bowed.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Afterwards, while everyone was standing and giving Odin rounds and rounds of praises, Y/N stayed rooted in her seat. She couldn’t just let this go by as if it were nothing, but she was struggling to compose herself to confront him.

After a couple minutes of going back-and-forth, she decided, screw composure. She didn’t have to be composed. She was allowed to be angry.

So, she stood up and marched straight for him.

“All-Father,” Y/N said through grit teeth, forcing herself to curtesy, “I request your company in private, if I may.”

It took Odin a moment to tear himself away from accepting his latest comment, but the way he quickly glanced over at Y/N, she knew that he had not noticed — or perhaps he did not care — the state she was in.

“My apologies, Lady Y/N, but should I depart now, I fear I shall upset my comrades!” Odin said, ending his comment in a boastful joy, which resulted in laughter and cheers.

He didn’t wait for her response before engaging in another conversation, and Y/N’s lips remained tightly shut until she decided to just go forth and let her stuffed-up emotions out.

“Fine. I will say it in front of everyone, then!” She said, firmly and loudly, gaining everyone’s attention. “That was a pathetic excuse to remember Loki . . . It was an insult! You mocked him, your own child! How could you even— I . . . I just don’t understand . . . He sacrificed himself for your son and for Asgard and this is how you repay him? God. I expected much, much more from you for him because I . . . Let’s just say that we both love Loki, in our own ways, and I-I . . . I am very disappointed.”

Wanting to flee from the tears that were now streaming down her face and from the silence that was pounding, she turned around and she walked away, the realization that she had just confessed her love in front of everyone hitting her.

“Lady Y/N!”

Odin’s words stopped her in her tracks, but she did not turn around. Just stood. Waited.

“He told Thor, before he passed, that he, uh . . . He loved you, too.”

Y/N stared straight ahead, her hand jutting out to grab the pillar next to her to steady herself.

Loki loved her?

She didn’t stop the tears from coming this time. She let them, and the sobs, overwhelm her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Lady Y/N?”

The voice and the knock were much more stiff than they were this morning.

“Come in.”

Her response was devoid of emotion, much more curt than it was this morning.

The same woman turned the door’s knob and opened it, sending Y/N, who was curled up on her bed, head nestled into her knees, a wary look. “The All-Father has requested your presence at his quarters,” she said.

Y/N let out a small huff, in no mood to talk to the King after what had happened. She forced her head up and gazed boredom at the woman. “Is it an emergency?” She deadpanned.

The woman looked around the room and by her lack of response, Y/N knew that either she didn’t know or didn’t want to say.

She sighed. “I will be there shortly,” she said.

The woman nodded and wordlessly left.

After she did, Y/N stood up and went in front of her mirror, taking in her appearance. Her once brushed hair was now frizzy and in knots and her eyes were puffy and red. Angrily, she practically tore the hairbrush through her hair and dabbed at her eyes with makeup until the red could be seen no more. She had no intention of letting him see her this way.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Screw formalities, Y/N thought, as she walked straight into Odin’s quarters which composed of a small living room, a bedroom down the hall, an office, and a bathroom. She didn’t bother to curtsy or announce her presence.

When he finally and gradually turned around from whatever he was doing, a slight look of shock crossed his features, before he replaced it with a warm smile. “Y/N!” He said, but quickly corrected himself, “Lady Y/N.”

Y/N frowned and crossed her arms. “I hope that you have called me here to apologize,” she said, an icy edge to her voice.

Odin nonetheless looked at her kindly. “In a way, yes,” he vaguely said, before a magical transformation underwent before her.

His wrinkles disappeared, his beard disappeared, his grey hair turned jet black, and his clothes transformed into his usual wear.

No longer was the All-Father standing in front of her, but her best friend. The one she loved.

Taken by utter shock, Y/N instinctively stumbled back, her jaw dropping and her eyes widening. “What the hell is this?” She gasped out, not wanting to believe it at first. It was a cruel trick — it must be! There was no way.

“It’s me,” the mischievous deity said, a rare softness to his voice and in his eyes. He took a step forward, but then stopped himself. “I never died, I only impersonated my father.”

Y/N stared at him, angry tears coming to her eyes once more. “How?” She forced out, thinking that maybe she was dreaming. “Why?”

Loki looked around, slightly dumbfounded, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to question him. “I wanted the throne,” he answered, as if it were obvious and a perfectly acceptable reason.

Y/N stared at him as if he had grown two heads. To her, he might as well have.

“Oh, really? So you take over your father, trick everyone - me, your brother - into believing that you’re dead, you banish Sif . . . All because you wanted the goddamn throne?” She cried.

The cluelessness left his eyes and replaced itself with guilt, regret pooling inside him. He looked down, shoulders falling with a sigh.

“I’ve felt guilty tricking you ever since it had all went down. I wanted to tell you but, honestly, a part of me didn’t think you’d be that upset over my death. But you were really, so upset and I . . . I was lost. I didn’t know what to do. All I wanted to do was hug you and tell you that it was fine, that I was here, but I thought I’d screw up your emotions and hurt you even more,” he admitted.

Y/N just looked at him, her frown growing deeper. “That’s an awful excuse,” she hissed out, words laced with venom.

Loki immediately snapped his head up to look at her and his gaze held desperateness. “It’s not an excuse,” he said quickly. “It shouldn’t be. I’m . . . I’m so sorry. The last thing I ever wanted to was to trick you, and . . . I did. But today was the final straw. I couldn’t continue like that.”

Y/N took a step forward, having an inner battle in herself on whether or not to forgive him. “You lied to me,” she reiterated bluntly.

Loki nodded guiltily. “I did,” he agreed in a small voice.

She took a pause, taking in a deep breath. “You told me you loved me,” she added.

There was a brief moment of silence before Loki said, in the same small way but a little more firm now, “I do.”

Y/N kept walking, not even fully sure or convinced of what she was doing, but knowing that she needed to do it, until she was standing just inches away from him. They looked at each other for a couple moments, neither saying anything, until Y/N wrapped her arms around Loki. He returned the embrace.

“Never do that to me again!” She yelled through the tears that were now coming. God, was she tired of crying. Especially today.

Loki hugged her tighter, his own tears falling. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered, and repeated that over, and over, and over again. “I’m an idiot.”

Y/N leaned back and cupped his face with her hands. The love she had for him overwhelmed her pain, and more than anything she needed him now. Besides, she could see his guilt. She could see the truth shining in his eyes. He wouldn’t do anything like this again, because he loved her. And she loved him.

“At least you’re self-aware,” she whispered through a sniff, taking a page out of his book with her joking remark. Before he could quip back (and she was sure he’d have an excellent one), she leaned forward and captured his lips in his a kiss. Loki smiled against her lips and wrapped his arms around her waist.

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[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

[xo-cuteplosion-xo]

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Reader

Angst and fluff time

Never enough |Chuuya comfort x Suicidal depressed Reader|

Warnings- mentions of Self-harm, heavy depression, suicide, lack of love for one's self. -I honestly wrote this as a self-comfort cause I needed something, so it really is triggering-

Word count- 1,700 words (roughly)

Life is a storm, full of calm eyes and rough winds that threaten to knock you over. Within life, there are ups and down; rough and soft moments in the storm. Tears are like rain, drizzling and pouring. There are light cries and heavy cries just like the sky. Happiness, fear, sadness, anger; emotions are weather. There are sunny days; happiness, thunderstorms; fear, rainy days; sadness, hurricanes; anger.

The clouds wept today. Wrapping around the moonlight, it hid the light. Water made heavy clinking noises against metal. The rush of cars swooshed against water as they sped by, the sound of a silent street followed. There were no voices, no couples, no people within eyesight or earshot. Today was a rainy day; a sad day. Tears fell in pattern with the falling water. Crimson dissipated within the water. Flowing down the roof the water washed it away. Clothing stuck, hair fell, eyes continued to look down.

You felt alone, afraid, disgusted, and angry with yourself and others. Your legs dangled off the edge of the roof. Listening to the music of sadness; a rainy night, you hummed. There was nobody else there with you, besides your thoughts you were alone. Though it was no surprise, it happened all the time.

People leave, people move one, people are not permanent. There is death in life; life in death. You pondered the meaning of such similes often. Running arms over your soaked clothes you choked on sobs. Letting out silent cries you shed the pain. Out of alcohol and still sober enough to feel you tossed the empty bottle to the roof entrance. It shattered to hundreds of pieces, adding sound to your cries. This isn't normal; to feel like this. You hated the things you’ve done, the job you could not back out from. You hated the way you looked. It didn’t matter what people said to you about being perfect the way you are. The small voices of people who put you down stood out. The ones that edge this crippling insecurity stuck out the most. They say the smallest flame can do more damage than the largest flame. It makes sense though, a large flame grows from the smallest flame. The large flames that start that size often take a while to do the same damage a building flame has done. Words worked like that; the smaller words that came from those close built into raging flames.

You shouted curses under your breath, looking to your lined arms, you choked back another sob. Why, why did you do these things? They were temporary freedoms from this pain but it never lasted; like drinking. Everybody needs a way to tell these feelings to fuck off, but at points, it doesn't work. Those thoughts cross the mind. The permanent solution to what they call a temporary problem. It isn’t always temporary, sure it goes at times to reveal the sun, but then it returns three-fold. It never leaves forever, they say it gets better, but sometimes it's hard to see that light at the end. Sometimes it's so far away it seems impossible to reach unless somebody else can help.

Everybody says it’s alright to be like this. Yet, they never help, they never offer up their hand to pull you out of the quicksand. They never attempt to push you forward in the tunnel. They stand, and they watch you break, until it’s suddenly benefiting for them to step in. Then, they dare to ask why you’re like this. It’s not a choice, it’s not something that can be so easily controlled. It’s a monster with its talons tearing into you.

So maybe, that’s why you did it. That’s why you inched closer and closer. Maybe that’s why you looked up and shut your eyes. Tapping fingers against the rooftop's edge. Humming tunes to try and steer your thought from doing the last resort. Just before the wrong decision could be made, you were grabbed and pulled back.

You felt so far from the world, nothing was clicking or connecting the dots. A harsh sting to your cheek brought your mind swirling back to the present. Noticing you were paying attention, the dark silhouette of a short male shouted words. “What were you thinking!” he hissed holding your shoulders with a firm grip.

“I… I don't know?” you mumbled feeling the tears swell in your eyes again.

“You don’t know? What the hell, I know we're all a little messed up but you can't…” it fell on him, his voice cutting out as he fell to his knees. His hands slid around you. Firmly holding you, he yanked your soaked body to his. His umbrella only hid your bodies from the wind with his ability. “How long, tell me how long.” his voice was breaking but still stern.

“I don’t know? Weeks, months, maybe years?” you don't move, afraid and cold, you could not meet his eyes. “Why do you care? You’ll just end up the same as everybody else. I’m worthless right? I mean, everybody leaves me alone. I don't fit beauty standards to perfection. Nobody would want me so, why not? Why not take the shortcut to happiness?” you were slapped again. It was light, but it stung enough to snap you from those thoughts again.

“Ya well think about somebody else! I don’t need two suicidal idiots! Having one to worry about is enough! Not that I worry about that mongrel! I do about you though, you’re my drinking partner. You’re the one who managed to get me to open up to being touched! I don’t hug or act... soft with anybody else! You don’t get to take that away! I don’t care what you look like, sound like, fuck, I don’t care about anything but what’s in there. In that fuckin heart! I am not a softy, you know I don’t say shit like this often but… you can’t do that! If you're miserable enough to really be willing to toss it all away, then you should talk to somebody!” his voice was panicked. Yes, he was being selfish. He knew that this wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t a feeling you could so easily overcome. Yet, here he was hoping that you would let him help you.

“I'm sorry! I’m so sorry! I just… I thought… wouldn’t it be better for everybody though? Sure you'd be sad at first but you'd forget about me!” Chuuya shook his head. Meeting your eyes with his clouded ocean ones. Tears fell, almost unnoticeable within the pouring rain.

“No, no I wouldn't! I wouldn't because I love you! I fell in love, I don't know how or when it… it just happened! Isn’t this enough? One person, am I not enough? If I had known I’d have held you to me, given you all the cuddles you ever needed!” he buried his face into the crook of your neck. He didn’t care if you felt the same or not at this point. He just needed to let you know somebody cared for you.

“Chuuya…” a light in the tunnel, it formed inside the tunnel.

It is, as they say, eventually you will meet that light. You will find meaning in your life. Something good will happen, then, all the people who put you here will be nothing but bad memories, and lingering ghosts of the past; You can move on. A light will come to you eventually, no matter how dark it seems, that light will show itself. In a friend, a relative, a job offer, an achievement. Those beads of light spread and eventually, they will pull you out enough to know true happiness.

When Chuuya looked worriedly to you, he was taken aback by your arms tossing around him. Your tears being muffled by his own lips. He kissed back before pulling away. Even if you still felt low you were slightly feeling better. Just knowing there was somebody to hold you like this was enough to curve the thoughts for a while.

He took his jacket and wrapped it around you, lifting you into his arms. He carried you to his penthouse, setting you down on the couch located in his bedroom. He looked around, finding one of his larger hoodies he tossed to you. He started hot chocolate as he waited for you to change. You’d probably be sick tomorrow, given it had been cold and you were drenched.

He carried the mug back to the couch, placing it down, he frowned. Walking to a closet, he pulled a small towel out. Rubbing it against your skull as you sniffled, he sighed. “Do you need anything else?” shaking your head, you grabbed his arm.

“Just… some cuddles?” he nodded holding you close, trying to warm your frigid body up. “Did you mean it? You'd really care if I…”

“Yeah, I did, is there a problem? I know it may not mean much. I know how depression works, at least a little bit. It’s not something that can be easily controlled. I just want you to know that you are perfect to me. If somebody ever tells you otherwise, I'll crush them to a pulp.” cracking a small smile, Chuuya's eyes lit up. “There we go, a small smile is a win. So you like me being all protective? Good, I’m a little territorial.”

Looking at him you nodded. “Yeah… okay.” you still sounded so sad.

“I'm serious! I’d squash even Mori if he insulted you in any way! You’re the most perfect thing I've ever seen and known! You're beautiful outside and inside, people are just jealous of how perfect you are.” he was trying to lift your spirits and it seemed to work a little.

“Can we just stay like this?” Chuuya nodded, letting you lean your head on his shoulder. He didn’t move even as you fell asleep.

[blessedtobebangtan]

Jungkook number 7 please🥺

yess ☺️☺️

prompt list <3

“ You.. you don’t want to have my child ?”

-

You looked over to your left to see Jungkook’s back and sighed you slowly sat up in your spot.

There was no denying it anymore. As many times as you tried to convince yourself all the signs were normal and that you were fine.

The waking up in the early mornings to throw up everything you’d eaten in the past 2 hours or if you weren’t puking you had to pee every 10 minutes. Your breast were sore for no reason and you seemed to be gaining a bit of weight. Your period was two weeks late for goodness sake. But, even though you knew it- you just couldn’t bring yourself to admitting it because you weren’t ready to tell Jungkook.

As you were about to lay down and sleep on it, a urging heat began to rise in your throat and you knew you had to puke. You jumped up from the bed and lunged for the bathroom door, not caring if you woke Jungkook up.

You began to give the toilet all you had.

“ Y/N ?”, you heard a deep, tired voice call for you.

Your eyes widened in fear and you coughed before speaking, “ I’m fine, Jungkook, just go back to sleep.”. The urge returned and you began to hurl once more.

“ Y/N, this is the fourth time this week, wha-“, he gasped softly at the sight of you kneeling at the toilet.

You heard shuffling behind you and felt your hair being lifted from your back as a hand rubbed your back softly.

“ Jungkook, I said it’s fine, please go back to bed.”

He scoffed just loud enough for you to as he got up to get you a towel, “ Don’t be stupid, Y/N, you’re obviously not well.”

You just nodded at his scolding too tired to say anything back and scooted away from the toilet to lean back on the shower door.

Jungkook returned with a towel and a bottled water. He didn’t say anything, but by the clench of his jaw and the grip he had on the water bottle he was pissed.

“ Have you been eating while I’m at work ?”, he questioned as he hand you the water and towel.

You nodded slowly as you wiped your mouth and gargled some of the water spitting it into the toilet and flushing it.

He leaned back on the door frame with his arms crossed against his buff chest, “ How much sleep have you been getting ?”

You rolled your eyes suddenly tired off his questions, “ Enough.”

Jungkook saw your shift in attitude and he felt his patience wearing thin, but he just dismissed it in order to focus on the problem at hand.

“ So then what’s your problem ?”, he asked but you recognized it as a demand.

You just bit your tongue and kept your gaze on the bathroom floor. It was silent and by now, Jungkook’s patience was long faded and he was growing angrier by each second you seemed to ignore him.

“ Y/N, I swear if you don’t answer me, I’m going to loose my shit.”, he said in a calm, irritated tone that you recognized all too well. The tone he used every time he was about to hurt you.

You stood to your feet, slowly not to loose your balance and looked up at him with tears glossing your eyes and let it go, “ I-I’m pregnant.”

Jungkook’s face dropped and all the angry he had just built left is body in one breath. He shied away from the door frame and walked closer to you with his eyebrow raised, “ Are you positive ?”

You slowly nodded taking a step back scared of what he might say, “ Well, yes, but I’m still going to the doct-“

You were cut off by a pair off lips placed on yours, you were taken back and just widened your eyes in surprise. Jungkook picked you up by your ass and spun you around with an adorable laugh that would have made you smile if you weren’t so worried about your future.

He sat you down on the counter with his infamous bunny smile that you didn’t get to see as often as you did when you first started dating.

“ We are having a baby, smile Y/N.”, he said with a chuckle and lowered himself to your tummy with a smile, “ My little angel, I can’t wait to meet you.”

Your eyes stung with tears as you bit your lip in fear, “ I don’t think you get it, Jungkook.”

He rose up again and brought his hand up to your cheek caressing it slowly with ease, “ No, I get it, kitten, you were just scared to tell me because were overthinking it. But it’s fine, we’re going to be great parents.”

He couldn’t be serious, could he ? The both of you were not stable enough to be parents at least emotionally. You gulped softly and shook your head, “ I don’t think it’s the right time for us to raise a child, don’t you agree.”

“ What ?”, Jungkook was still smiling as he looked up to you, “ Why wouldn’t it be, baby. ?”

“ You know, you are always working, we’re so young and we have all of the time in the world, maybe we should wait.”, you fumbled with your fingers to try and calm your nerves.

His smile dropped as he raised an eyebrow trying to get you to come out with what you had to say, “ I don’t get what you’re saying.”

You were walking on eggshells here and he wasn’t helping you at all. He was beginning to grow impatient with you again. So, you closed your eyes tightly and said it.

“ I can’t have your child.”

You didn’t want to say it, but you knew you had to say it. Jungkook is the leader of one of the notorious gangs, he sold drugs and killed people who didn’t have enough to pay him back. He was very territorial over you and treated more like a pet than a person. And if he was angry enough at you he would resort to violence.

There was no way in hell you could put someone else through that trauma, pain and constant fear especially not your own child.

“ You.. you don’t want to have my child ?”, he asked tilting his head to the side and his expression turning sour.

You registered what you had said and how he was taking it, so you tried to back track, “ N-no, babe, I-I just think we should wait for the right time, yeah ?.”

He laughed out of frustration and backed away from you, but never looking away, “ You don’t want to have my child, y-you’ve got to be fucking with me right ?”

You held your mouth open not knowing what to say to him anymore and just stated as he lost his mind.

“ Fucking answer me, Y/N !”, he yelled at you causing you to jump and almost fall off the counter, “ I give you everything- my love, my protection, my riches and that still isn’t enough for you is it ?”

You jumped off of the counter and tried to approach him, but he just backed away and glared at you as he poked his inner cheek with his tongue. You stretched out your hand to take hold of

“ Don’t fucking touch me, I really don’t want to hurt you.”, he said, but you knew he didn’t mean that. He didn’t want to hurt the baby.

“ Jungkook, please, let’s j-.”, you began to beg him softly, but he stopped you.

“ I’m going out, I’ll be back.”, he stated as he pushed past you a little hard making you stumble back a couple of steps.

Finally, the tears that had been in your eyes fall slowly, but plentiful on your crimson cheeks.

You were such a good person at you thought you were, what did you do to to deserve this and that only made your tears fall harder.

Your sobs were soft, but loud enough for Jungkook to hear. He stopped in his tracks realizing he couldn’t just leave his pregnant girlfriend all alone for once he showed mercy.

Jungkook turned around and walked back over to you, you didn’t expect as you were looking down, but he wrapped his arms around pulling you into his warm embrace. You were engulfed in his sweet, hypnotizing scent and his gentle voice.

“ Please stop crying, my princess. I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded against his chest too embarrassed to look up. You knew he loved seeing you so small and dependent on only him. You knew I’d you had this baby you would be tied to him for life and there was no way out. But, maybe he would change and you could be happy, right ?

Clearing your throat, you looked up at him with a small smile, “ Um, I’m sorry for the things I said to you- I was just scared.”

He wiped off your tears gently and hummed, “ I forgive you, I know my good girl would never mean to anger me on purpose.”

His good girl. He forgives his good girl.

Jungkook laid a soft kiss on your exposed forehead as he rocked the both of you back and forth.

“ Like I said earlier, we will be great parents, my love.”, he stated with ease as if he knew this would be the endgame.

And you nodded not wanting anymore trouble for the night, “ You’re right as you always are.”

-

and there you are- i hope you enjoy and i apologize for taking such a long time :)) but keep requesting and ill be getting back to all of you in time 🤍 in the meantime stay safe and you are loved <3

- mai