#SO much to him it makes me sick he makes me sick fucking moss-head little bitch.

[fiapple]

...the "nothing happened" scene has caused my brain to latch on to zoro with a vice grip. send help.

[mikomikumi]

Guys I was on the plane and got bored. I wrote y’all some milkman smut~

Plz enjoy

Francis mosses x reader SMUT

Warnings; Penetration (PinV), orgasm denial, dom! Francis. sub! Reader. afab! Reader.

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This day couldn’t be any more boring than it already is. The Doorman is slumped in their seat, bored out of their mind.

They heard footsteps coming up to the window. It appears to be Francis Mosses. “Mmm, hello”. The usual greeting. Nothing seems off. “ID and Entry card please?”, asks the Doorman. Francis slips the paper under.

Appearance? Normal

Description? On point.

ID? One number is off.

“Hmm, your ID doesn’t fully match the correct one we have here.” The doppelgänger that stood in front of him started to panic. “I-I think you just need to re-read it. That’s m-my ID.” Unusual, he never speaks this much. “I saw your roommate Y/N come home earlier. Let me just give your room a call”. The doorman grabs the rotary phone and rings up Francis’s room, in hopes either you or the real Francis would answer.

The day was about to get just a little less boring.

————————————————————————

“Ngh~ fuck, so tight~” Francis moaned. The second you had come home from the bakery, Francis snuck up behind you and tried to strip you. He had been so horny all day. His one day off and you had to go to work. The milkman needed to give someone his milk~

“Take it, Y/N. Please~ Let me fill you with my milk~ Francis moaned and begged. He pounded your pussy like it was his last day on earth. He had filled you with cream about 3 times already. Yet his cock stayed hard, throbbing for more. He gripped your plush thigh, with the other hand on your chin. Francis's tongue fucked your mouth with passion. “Mmh~ good girl”.

Your tight little cunt didn’t mind. Your legs stayed open and welcome for each thrust of his hips, for each slap of his balls against your ass. You loved him. The way he fucked you gave you life. “Francis~”, you moaned his name for the hundredth time that day. You rubbed your clit as you were on the edge of another climax. It drove his cock wild. It throbbed as he was about to cum again-

“Ring ring!” The rotary phone on the bedside locker buzzed. You reached your hand over to it when all of a sudden it was pinned to the bed. “Don’t, we’re busy”. Francis demanded, getting ready to thrust inside you again. “Francis, if they let a doppelgänger in, the building is dead!” You argued. This annoyed the milkman. He let go of your wrist. “Mmm…Fine, but make it quick. I still have more cum to pump you full with”.

Your body turns away from the milkman. His cock leaves your hole as you pick up the phone. Francis, despite the orgasm denial, had an idea. He wasn’t a huge fan of that doorman, always looking at his Y/N. Maybe he could put him in their place.

“Hello? Ah hi there Mx. Doorma-ah!”. The milkman cheekily slapped your thigh, and your body shivered. “S-sorry. Yes I’m in my apartment. My roomma-”. Francis was sick of you calling him his ‘roommate’ instead of boyfriend. The only reason you did was that it was muscle memory. Francis grabbed the phone from your hand. He used his other hand to pin you down and he started thrusting himself back into you. You let out a scream, which you quickly muffled with your hand along with the other moans.

“Mmm…yes. I’m in my apartment with Y/N”. The clapping of skin could be heard in the background. “Is that all?” The milkman asked. He pounded into you faster, as payback for not letting him finish earlier. “…yes…”. The doorman eventually answered. Francis almost threw the phone back down into its place before gripping both your thighs tight. “Now, you owe me”. He shows no mercy, holds your thighs up and full-on pounds your pussy in.

“You’re…you’re gonna take my cum inside again?…right Y/N?…you’re gonna be a good girl and cum on this cock…?”. You know it’s not a question. It’s a demand.

“Yes Francis….fuuuck~”. Your eyes roll to the back of your head while you release yourself for the 4th time today. Your body sinks into the cum-soaked sheets as you let your boyfriend take over.

“Cumming…fucking…take it” he lets out a massive groan, this cock throbs and twitches as white ropes spew into your cunt. “Yeah…good girl”. Francis slowly continued to thrust, helping ride out his and your orgasm. He almost collapses on top of you when he finishes. He lies on your chest, his cock still buried deep in your womb as he snuggles.

“Always a cuddle bug after sex” You stroked his head and placed a kiss on his forehead. Francis is now completely drained. His baggy eyes stare into yours. “So…tired…”…the milkman mumbles, drifting into a deep slumber. You decide to join him, closing your eyes. You couldn’t ask for a better way to sleep other than having your boyfriend in your arms.

————————————————————————

The Doorman stares at the phone in mortified awe after the real Francis hangs up. They turn to look at the doppelgänger, who is now sweating profusely. “Sorry buddy, you ain’t coming in”. The doorman lifts the clear cover of the red button and pushes it.

[fluloa]

okay well now i’m going to be the one to ask you for the step!dad jake request bc I NEED IT, your jake fics are god tier fr

it’s time that i hop onto the wagon. also i have hadf a few glasses of wine

warnings — praise, stepcest, masturbation, rough fingering/fuck, little bit of awkward step-daddy jake, in heat shit, stomach bulge, daddy kink

fingers stuffed in your cunt and legs spread wide open, you hadn't expected for the flaps of your marui's pod to fling open.

"holy mother of eywa—" jake curses, shrieking at your dazed, whiney state with your really wet and bare pussy on display and he swings the flap back shut. you scream as well, embarrassment shaking through your system but it's immediately numbed by your heat fizzing up your body, stilling your mind and forcing your thoughts to only focus on your orgasm that you can't reach.

the smell of you reaches jake's nose, your sweet caramel-like aroma fogging up his senses. he understood now. why you had been stooped up in your moss of bed for the past few days, why you were so distant at dinnertime, why you had been avoiding him so much.

you were in heat.

his poor babygirl, fingering her pussy while she whined and withered in utter torture. that's why you were hissing with pain. not because you were hurt or sick, but because you were in fucking heat.

then he realizes you haven't stopped, by the continued noises of small gushing and pathetic high-pitched whimpers. "hey, sweetheart?"

you only whine in reply.

jake clears his throat, trying so hard not to focus on the way your pussy messily quelches each time your fingers thrust inside of it. he re-adjusts his loincloth, cringing at his growing bulge pressing up against it. "does it hurt? baby?"

"oh," you grit out a moan, and jake can hear the way you kick your feet against the woven ground. "mmmhm... daddy, 's hurts."

"didn't catch that. what was that?"

"it hurts," you groan. "please, daddy, come.. in here. i need- i nee... i need..."

jake gently pries open the flap of the pod once again, creeping his head past it and there you are, just like before, fucking yourself dumb with your tiny fingers. he clicks his tongue, crawling to your aid and he runs a hand up your arm, and you fucking shiver at it. your tail twirls ferally, and with the hand that isn't tied up in your cunt, you use it to slap it onto his arm and drag him towards you, piling him on top of you.

"tell me what i can do, babygirl. how long you been hurtin' for?" he whispers, and you can't even reply, only jutting your legs further apart.

jake is still unsure what to do, even though the solution is right there in front of him, right in between your glistening thighs. your smell is intoxicating him, telling him to just pick you up by your legs and fuck his cock into you so hard you see stars. "i want it," you rasp out, looking up at him with your big eyes that you know always gets him to give in and give you what you want. and right now, it's his cock.

"uh- for now, you can hop on my thigh. that sound good? yeah?" jake reasons, and you push out a reckless nod. he rolls you over with him, now laid out on his back and you practically pounce on his thigh, your gush of warm wetness immediately spreading along his skin. he bites back a groan.

you instantly start grinding your hips, letting your head fall back as your body sways, your pussy gliding along his thigh and rubbing at your puffy clit. fuck, if he wasn't hard before, he is now. hard as rock. watching his little princess ride his thigh like an animal, like a slut. it shakes him up in way more ways than one. the thick muscle of his thigh does absolute wonders for you, the amazing friction of your clit catching on the tough of his muscle making your eyes quite literally roll back.

"that's it, that's my girl. fuck yourself on me like that. using dad's big thigh for your pussy, hey? good fuckin' girl," he jumbles, sliding his hand on your hips, now helping you sharpen the desperate rocks of your body and you moan loudly.

your boobs bounce each time your hips roll, your hands trembling as they support your body on his chest and your fingernails digging into his blue skin. you're panting out heavy, quick breaths as you try and find words, "can... i..."

"hey, hey, 's 'right. use your words slowly for me." jake reassures smoothly, running a hand up your thigh and rubbing his thumb into your hot skin. "you close?"

"no," you hiss lowly through your gritted teeth. your words are filled with sobs, a sweet twist with desperation that has jake's dick twitching under his loincloth. "your cock."

"want my cock?" he asks, letting a dark and quiet chuckle slip past his lips, "don't know if you'll be able to ride that one, sweetheart."

"then fuck me with it," you manage to blow out, taking a hand and slipping it to palm his cock, tented up and ready for a pussy to plunge into. your pupils widen immensely, tail whipping up in excitement and your riding quickens, moving your cunt faster on his thigh. "please, daddy. pleasepleaseplease."

"might hurt a little. promise you won't cry?" jake coos, letting his finger trail up the smooth skin of your belly.

"promise," you rush, speeding onto your back and splaying out your body for him. funnily, your top is still strapped to your body. a bit disheveled, but it's still on. jake changes that though, as he yanks it off of your shoulders and flings it across the room. he then presses kiss to the middle of your shoulder, his hand shifting down to play with your pussy, striding a long finger up your slit and gathering some of your slick onto the pad. you whine at the much needed attention, finally getting a touch that is not your own, but your stepdad's.

he wastes no time in pushing a finger in, and then another. the girth of his digits stretch out your viscid walls, heighten your breath and make your pussy pulse in delighted appreciation.

"am i making you feel better, baby? feelin' good?" jake murmurs, and you can feel the side of cock rub up the inner of your left thigh. "think you're ready for dad's cock?"

"yes," you cry, your back arching off the ground as your mouth agapes.

"okay, okay," jake gives your cheek a messy smooch, untying his loincloth with ease and lining up the tip of his cock at your sopping opening. then he slides it in, pushing past your tight pussy and forcing the thick of his length inside of you. you let out a strangled mewl, your ankles kicking at the back of his legs and he catches the way your lips tremble. "ah-ah, baby— what'd i say about crying?"

"i'm not. i'm not crying, daddy." you beg with your voice meek, your cunt wrapping around him tight as if the body part itself did not want to let him go. milking his cock perfectly, he decides to start a slow rock of his hips, a soft pace of back and forth in your pussy. your legs are shaking as they shift to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer and encouraging him to push his cock further into your tummy.

"big ass bulge in your tummy from me. ouch, hey? that's daddy's cock in there, pushing your skin up like that." you're compelled to look at where your bodies meet, and you glare at the bump forming and deforming each time his cock glides into you, big and pointy and it only drives you faster to your release.

jake scoops an arm beneath you and around your back, using it to start bringing you down onto him, speeding up his thrusts little by little. a high moan breaks from your sore throat, hands shifting recklessly as you struggle to find a place to rest them.

"over my back, baby." he says, grabbing your arms himself and swinging them over the broad of his back. "there we are."

he leans down and seals your lips in a harsh kiss, tongue sponging out to dance along your hot one. it feels so wrong, so vivid and bad, that you can't help but let out a pathetic whine because of it because you love everything about it. jake fastens his pace, now rutting up into you hard and rough, moving your body with his as your loud noises muffle by the wrap of his aggressive tongue.

you're meeting his animalistic thrusts with your own, only they're more smaller and choppy because scrap before, you're getting fucked dumb now. your stepdad's cock driving in and out of your pussy so ruthlessly, you're going to see stars. literal stars.

"close?" jake mumbles against your mouth, his tone twinged with a sudden lick of his own desperation.

"mhm," you slur, gripping onto him as you attempt to have his cock impossibly hit deeper inside you.

“come all over daddy’s cock then,” he deepens the kiss, angling his head to the side slightly as a thick lock of his hair falls down in front of you. “wanna see my little girl come undone,” he pants.

that sets you off, has your orgasm exploding out of you and pussy gushing around jake’s dick. it shakes your entire body, smacking you with absolute bliss and all you can do is moan, feeling the tears rim your eyes. suddenly, jake is scooping out of you and groaning, dumping his load in his bunched up loincloth beside him.

you lay still beneath jake, panting like crazy and so is he, leaning an elbow on the ground as he attempts to catch his breath. eventually, he ends up collapsing to the ground, and he takes you with him. too fucked out to care, you slump your head against his chest. he tucks a lather of hair behind your ear, kissing the smooth skin between your shoulder and neck.

he doesn’t think it hurts anymore.

[write-tama]

I need more of Francis Mosses x reader fluff tbh and I enjoy reading some of your works with him so here's my request: Reader is stressed about life, college or something of your choice and needed some comfort from him 🥺🤎 thank you in advance aaahshqhs 😭 (tbh I don't see much sfw works of Francis on this app, maybe I'm not searching enough?)

"rest a little-- for me at least.."

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ francis mosses x student!stressed!reader

sypnosis ; reader and francis have been hard at work trying to achieve their ultimate goals for the future. but lately, reader has been burning themselves out, and its up to francis to help realize how tired reader is.

containing ; exhaustion, reader is a college student, francis works double shifts, francis and reader are high school sweethearts (in this au anastacha is not his daughter), francis is worried about reader, TOOTH ACHING FLUFF RAGH

author’s note ; eee thank u anon! also dw, i also experienced the same problem trying to find sfw for francis 😭😭 its lowkey the reason why i had to crawl out of my hiatus hole LOL but ya really hope u enjoy :]

04.15.24 | 1.4k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Five shots of espresso from the cafe across the block could not fix how fucking exhausted you were.

You and Francis have been together since your highschool days. You have always dreamed of going to college to become a forensic scientist to work in the police force for super interesting crimes— but holy shit— were you tired from the projects and the essays.

You haven’t seen Francis in a few days either, despite living in the same apartment. He’s been working shifts in the morning and night just to make ends meet while also saving up for a house that you two could buy together. It was exhausting, but it was all a part of the plan. You worked a little side job as well delivering papers early in the morning just as a quick cash grab, but that also meant you barely spent mornings with your boyfriend. It’s not like you guys had the time anyway. He had to work in the morning too, which made it all the more frustrating.

After finally reaching your apartment, you immediately kicked off your shoes and threw your bag to the nearest corner before flopping down on the couch. A loud groan rumbled from your throat, finally giving your exhaustion a voice. You looked up from the couch, too tired to even turn on the TV. From the corner of your eye though, you saw in the kitchen a pot on the stove with a bright yellow sticky note on the top of it. Out of curiosity, you lifted yourself from the cushions with all your strength before heading towards the kitchen.

You waddled over to the pot with a curious tilt to your head as read the sticky note:

You left for work before I could tell you, but I’m coming off my shift early today and I’m not working tonight. Here’s some lunch I prepared this morning. Love you honey, get some rest. -Fran

Your grin stretched from ear-to-ear as you opened the lid to be welcomed with the smell of fresh spaghetti and meatballs. You turned on the gas stove to heat up the food, and used a clean wooden spoon to stir the food gradually. As you did, you couldn’t help as yawns escaped your mouth. You thought about taking a nap after your meal, seeing as how later today you needed to take some notes for an upcoming exam.

Your need for success never gave you the permission to give yourself a break every once in a while. In fact, the only times you did take a break was when Francis was sick and he needed someone by his side to take care of him. Other than that, you were always academically focused. Every once in a while, Francis would voice his opinion, telling you that you shouldn’t be burning yourself out so fast, but it was your determination and your vision of a perfect future with him that fueled you. Was this safe for your own mental health? Absolutely not. But you were aware of the consequences, and you pushed yourself anyway.

You felt your body grow increasingly heavy. You quickly jolted your head up, not even realizing that your eyes were fluttered close and you had stopping moving your spoon for a few seconds. You shook yourself awake, quickly grabbing a plate and helping yourself to a serving. You made sure to turn off the stove as well before throwing the spoon in the sink and grabbing a clean metal fork to enjoy your meal. It was best to hurry on and sit down before you became a danger to yourself.

You placed your food down on the coffee table before curling up on the couch. Maybe some TV would wake me up, you thought to yourself. You picked up the TV remote and browsed through the channels, eventually settling on a random game show that was airing live. Feeling a bit more energized, you placed a pillow in your lap before resting your food on top of it.

After each bite you felt your eyelids getting heavy. Your body started slowly giving in, despite your protests. The host’s voice soon turned into muffles as you felt your head nod a little. Each time you felt yourself falling, you immediately jolted up, not wanting to succumb to your body’s need for rest. What you really needed to do was to finish those essays and projects, and to also greet your loving boyfriend once he comes back from work. Your mind started dragging along little plans on how you would be able to accomplish everything before sleeping, but without realizing, your eyes had fallen closed as you leaned back in the couch.

Francis came back home about an hour later, tired from his work. As he placed his work bag down, he barely realized that your bag was set in the corner as well. “(y/n)?” He began to call out, but as soon as he turned around, he noticed your sleeping figure on the couch curled up with your pillow and food next to you. “Oh, (y/n)..” he mumbled, smiling a little in amusement. Francis walked over you, noticing the running TV and the half-eaten food. He first turned off the TV, making sure to not make too much noise to wake you up. He took your plate as well and covered it with a napkin before storing it in the fridge. Once Francis made it back to the living room, he sighed in relief, noticing that you still haven’t woken up. He rolled up his sleeves before carefully sliding his arms under your body, being as gentle as possible as he carried you to the bedroom.

“Mm..” You mumbled, half asleep. “Franci..?” You croaked out, burying yourself into his chest.

“Mhm..” He hummed. “I found you asleep on the couch.. I’m just moving you to the bedroom if you don’t mind..” He chuckled a little. You groaned a little in response, tugging a little at his button-down uniform.

“No..” you protested. “I have work to do.. I have projects due soon..”

Francis laid you gently down onto the soft mattress. You sat up a bit, realizing that you were still in your casual formal clothes you wore for school. You looked over to Francis, who had changed out of his work clothes, but kept his undershirt on and threw on some pajama pants. “Franci, can you—”

“Here you go.” You looked up, not even realizing that he was already handing you your midnight clothes. His tired eyes gazed upon you, but even then, his eyes were dilated with genuine care. You smiled up at him before taking the clothes and changing on the bed, throwing your clothes in a corner.

You sighed a little as you straightened out your shorts, looking down with a wearied face. “You know I need to get back to work.” You quietly muttered. Francis looked at you with a frown as he stood over the bed.

“You can’t just keep working day and night.” He lectured softly. You scoffed a little before looking at him, only to immediately falter to his puppy-eyed look. “Just rest with me this evening, please, dear?” He asked, folding his arms behind his back as he leaned down.

Your face heated up, flustered at how desperate Francis seemed to be just wanting to have a few minutes ago. You smiled softly before reaching up and caressing his face with your hand. “You know I hate it when you look at me like that..” You whispered.

“Well, it's the only way to get you to agree.” He mumbled back, sinking into your embrace. The two of you were locked in eye contact as Francis slowly climbed into the bed. His hands straddled either side of you as you leaned back against the headboard. Gradually, his lips pressed against yours, and immediately you melted. Your hands snaked around his neck, holding him as close as you could. His touch filled you with the warmth you longed for so long after drawn-out lectures and pressure-inducing assignments. All you wanted was him.

He wrapped your arms around your waist before resting himself on your chest— a sigh escaping his nostrils. “I miss this.” he muttered. “When was the last time we got to hold each other like this?”

You ran fingers through his hair, carefully tugging out knots. “Only heaven knows..” You whispered back. The two of you enjoyed the comfortable silence. Only the faint hum of the lamp filled your ears as well as the occasional vehicle rushing down the road in front of your apartment complex. Your chest rose and fell as you breathed as Francis buried himself deeper into your embrace. “I-I’m sorry I’ve been a little difficult lately.” you apologized, feeling the guilt prick at your skin. “I’ve just been so stressed with school lately.. All I could think about is work and it's ruining us—”

“Please don’t apologize for that.” Francis was quick to cut you off. He lifted his head up and now sat up properly in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed a little as he looked at your gentle figure. “Please.. Just don’t. I understand you’ve been working so hard lately. I have been to. But this is all for our future, remember?” He grabbed your hand, holding it with both of his hands before kissing your knuckles. “Mmm.. I miss our evenings together too, I truly do, but what I’m concerned about is your wellbeing. You need to give yourself a breather every once in a while. At least promise me that.”

Your body felt weak with each work he uttered. Your head rushed with stars, remembering that its moments like these that make you want to work so hard. You want nothing but blessings for this man, because if anything, he was your savior. Tears pricked at your eyes, sniffling a little as you nodded your head.

“I promise..” You said in a shaky voice. A sincere smile curled Francis lips as he reached down to kiss your forehead.

Everything is going to be okay, you thought to yourself.

Everything is okay.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thats it! hope you enjoyed :3 sorry i procrastinated on this for a while im def gonna clutch on up writing after school ends (which is end of april). lowk so glad this bc ive been stressed w college work as well so rereading honestly felt SO comforting 😭😭 but anyway ya--

reblogs, likes, even replies are soso appreciated and i hope you enjoyed this story :]

[wrathofrats]

Day 19: confessions - mist and aether talking about dews transition. Aether thinks she hates him, she doesn’t, and they talk about their feelings

It helps to read this piece and some of the stuff in #wrath’s ghost lore before hand, but it’s not necessary. Just know aether did dews transition.

Thank you to @forlorn-crows as always for this month <3

Warnings for small talks of mortality, it’s kinda angsty but I made it better so.

“How did you-“

“Dewdrop” aether interrupted.

Mist sat under one of the old concrete arches that decorated the back of an abandoned chapel. One of the little ones that primo had used before the clergy grew out of it. Let sit to gather vines and moss. Leaves decorated the pillars, the walkway was full of cracks and so overgrown that it was almost hard to follow.

There was a sense of tranquility in the chaos. The fresh smell of plants and old water that had seeped into the grooves of the concrete made mist feel at ease, nothing to order her around, nothing to remind her of the strict order she was to follow when in front of the other siblings.

“He’s such a snitch” mist snorted. She patted the ground next to her, motioning for aether to join her.

“He told me what happened” aether sighed, leaning back against the structure. He jumped slightly at the cool feeling on his back, before settling in completely.

“How much?”

“Said you went off on him. That you were upset he actually changed his element”

Mist cringed. She brought her knees tight to her chest as dewdrops jacket now felt shameful around her shoulders. Part of her almost wanted to just get up and walk away to avoid the confrontation. She knew dew probably told aether what she said about him, that she had partially blamed him. Words spat in the heat of the moment begging dew just to look at her.

“He told me what you said”

“I’m sure aethers real pleased with his work this time” mist bit

“If omega of all ghouls can fuck up did you really expect me to trust aether?”

“Aether I-“ mist choked. She cringed remembering her own words, bitter tasting in her mouth now that the target of her anger sat next to her.

“Don’t, I understand why you’re upset,” he sighed. The air felt thick around them, a heavy cold that encapsulated them both as the sun went down.

“Yeah but I’m not upset with you”

Mist doesn’t know who she’s upset with if she’s being honest. Maybe herself for feeling betrayed even if dew didn’t pick pride over an animalistic fate like she did. Maybe papa for letting her choose her own reality of not transitioning. Maybe whatever sick divine being cursed them to be like this. None of her feelings seem correct. She couldn’t pick an answer on what’s appropriate to feel about this even if she tried.

“No one seems to be. I kinda hoped you were the one to actually see through this bullshit " Aether threw his head back to rest against the wall, staring up at the dark patches of algae on the top of the arch.

“What do you mean? No one should be mad at you aeth”

“I did that to him, I ruined him”

“You saved him.” Mist turned to face him, a concerned look on her face. A gust of wind cut against the tears in her eyes, making her realize that she had once again started crying.

“He’s not himself anymore mist, so does it even matter?”

Aether sighed, chewing his lip in frustration. The lingering light of the sunset cast a cold shadow on him making him shiver as he moved to stand up.

“He’s more himself than he ever was” mist practically whispered. She gave him a pleading look, motioning him to continue to sit with her.

“He won’t even look at you mist”

“But that’s always been dew. He’s had a fiery personality since he was summoned. I could’ve used his favorite cup and he would’ve ignored me for hours over it”

Aether stopped to stare at her, a puzzled look in his eye.

“I would give anything for him to just talk to me, but that’s my fault anyways. He’s always been a volatile bundle of emotions, it’s just fitting he now has the element to match” she laughed.

There was a rare crack in her pride that made her feel solemn. Asking if she herself made the right decision to stay a water ghoul. The choice between staying true to herself and succumbing to a natural fate or potentially becoming a botched version of herself that was barely mist anymore.

Dew was thriving. He had his scars and sudden outbursts that weren’t exactly there before, but he was happy, and that’s all mist needed to care about.

“I just don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself” aether mumbled, sitting closer to mist while she wrapped the small jacket around his shoulders.

“You will. One day you’ll see how bright his smile has gotten and you’ll realize it was worth it.”

[the-cult-of-riley]

Sleeping With Ghosts (Act One: Chapter Two)

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Female OC

[[Masterlist]]

A/N: As Act One progresses, you'll notice the time skips between chapters get a little bigger. These guys have an eight year relationship and it would take me forever to write out the entirety of it lmao. The point of Act One is to give you insight into their relationship so you understand for Act Two.

The inspiration for this story was the prologue and Act One was never supposed to be as big as it got. I just wanted to lay a foundation for their relationship and got reeeeal carried away lololol In my opinion, the real meat of this story is Act Two. The whole of Act One is just a build up lmaooo

Placebo - Special K

Coming up beyond belief On this coronary thief More than just the leitmotif More chaotic, no relief

I'll describe the way I feel Weeping wounds that never heal Can the savior be for real Or are you just my seventh seal?

No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Just like I swallowed half my stash And never ever wanna crash No hesitation, no delay You come on just like Special K Now you're back with dope demand I'm on sinking sand

Gravity, no escaping Gravity Gravity, no escaping Not for free I fall down, hit the ground Make a heavy sound Every time you seem to come around

They walked down the street, his apartment building luckily on the road the bus stop was on so they didn't need to go far. He fished his fob out, holding it up to the scanner and hearing it beep to signal the door was open. He watched her as she glanced around, wonder on her face as if she was impressed by the foyer as he led her to the lift. Didn't want her trudging up four flights of stairs. 

“This is so… swanky,” she murmured, an amused smile on her face as she looked at him.

“It's alright,” he shrugged as he pressed the button for the lift. He knew it was nice, much nicer than his childhood home. He didn't think it was too fancy though. Wasn’t some fucking penthouse in the middle of the city centre. 

“It’s more than alright, Simon…” she scoffed, “it’s probably best we came here and not my place,” she added and when he looked at her, she had a guarded look on her face that made his brows furrow. He didn't like it. The doors to the lift opened and he led her inside, pressing four and watching the door close.

“Love… you could live in a council house in the middle of Moss Side and I wouldn't judge you for it. I grew up in fuckin’ Gorton, for fuck sake,” he muttered as he squeezed her hand. He didn't need her thinking he was some stuck up snob when he was far from it. She smiled then, raising a brow at him.

“It's not that bad,” she snorted and he felt himself relax as she seemed to lighten up again. “It's just a small studio thing. It's above a florist’s, makes the rent cheaper. I work at Cafe Metro in town, doesn’t exactly equal great pay,” she explained softly, looking a little self conscious. He knew the cafe she talked about. It was opposite the Arndale centre and he’d passed it a fair few times. He tugged her closer, nuzzling the side of her head and relishing in the light laugh that he caused. 

“Maybe you should show me sometime,” he murmured hesitantly, unsure how she’d react to suggesting seeing her again when they hadn't even fucked yet. Instead of recoiling or making a comment to refute him, she smiled brightly as her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. 

“We’ll see if you get sick of me yet,” she smirked but he saw something flash behind her eyes and he wondered if she’d briefly thought of her piece of shit ex. He had every plan to make her fucking forget his name by the end of the night.

“Don’t think I'd ever get sick of you, sweetheart,” he admitted, unsure why he even told her when he couldn't quite understand his own feelings. He'd known her less than an hour yet he felt like he’d known her a lifetime. The resulting smile from her made everything worth it. It was the kind of smile that stopped the world turning. The kind of smile that caused men to go to fucking war. He was doomed and he wasn't even mad about it. 

The door opened with a ding and he led her once again out of the lift and down the corridor to apartment 4F. He turned the key in the lock, hands shaking with anticipation as he led her in. This wasn’t like him at all, he wasn’t the type to fucking tremble at the thought of touching a woman. It struck him then that he’d never invited anyone to his apartment other than Tommy, Beth and his mum. He’d never brought a girl back here because he could hardly sneak out at first light if he fucking lived here. 

It felt right though, bringing her here and he watched with some hesitance as she looked around and took it in. He felt a little self conscious then. He didn't have much, the bare essentials and since he was off with the Army a lot, it looked slightly unlived in. It didn't help that he was a neat freak, cleanliness being instilled in him from the military. There were a few items though that meant things to him. The quilted blanket his mother had made him that was thrown over the back of the couch, the pictures of Tommy, Beth and his mum around on the walls. The newest addition was a scan of Tommy and Beth’s baby that was tacked to his fridge by a magnet in the shape of an army tank. 

His eyes were glued on her as she took it all in, wandering over to the couch and touching the quilted blanket with a little smile on her face. It was made of black and camo squares. She turned her eyes to him then and his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly. He wasn't used to this. 

“You want a drink or anythin’?” he asked, wondering what he even had in his fridge since he wasn't expecting company. She fluttered a smile at him as she shook her head, sauntering over to him looking like a fucking angel that fell from heaven just for him. She stopped in front of him, toying with the hem of his jumper as he looked down at her. 

“I just want you,” she purred, batting her lashes all innocent like and it did him in. He grabbed her face, crashing his lips to hers with such ferocity that she squeaked and grabbed him to find purchase. 

He felt like he couldn't get close enough as his hands wandered, one splaying over her back and pressing her body flush with his. The other hand slipped over her curves, loving how the silky dress aided him in his exploration. Her body was fucking something else, he couldn’t get enough of her delicious curves and her tiny waist. His wandering hand slipped up her hip, running up her ribs before they cupped her breast. He felt her nipple hardening, confirming his stray thought that she wasn't wearing a bra and he moaned as his thumb brushed over the hardened peak through the fabric. 

She mewled into the kiss, such a cock hardening noise that he growled, grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist and his hands settled on her arse as she giggled into the kiss. He moved into the bedroom, setting her carefully on the bed as he regretfully separated from her. 

She watched with heavy lidded eyes as he knelt on the floor in front of her, unlacing her boots and tugging them off one at a time. She had a look on her face as if she wasn't used to being taken care of like this and he found himself wanting to do it more often. He wanted to take care of her, make her happy, make her content. Once the boots were off, he tugged her socks off, making her smile as he stuffed them in her boots so they wouldn't get lost. He watched her from his spot on the floor, hands smoothing up her silky soft legs and his eyes were glued to hers. When he got near the side of her knee, she jerked her legs with a giggle and he found himself smiling. 

“Ticklish, love?” he asked ruefully and she pouted playfully at him.

“Maybe,” she smiled and he placed a kiss at the spot, making her giggle again.

He stood up, pulling her to her feet before his hands grabbed the hem of her dress. He allowed his hands to slide up her curves, grabbing the dress up with it. His hands bunched into the fabric as it got to her waist and he pulled it up, revealing more and more of creamy alabaster skin to his hungry eyes. He pulled the satin over her head and dropped it on the floor, eyes glued to her. 

She stood there in nothing but a black pair of lacy french knickers and his cock was throbbing at the sight. He could see more of her ink now. She had what looked to be flowers poking out from her underwear on the left hip bone and some words along the inside of her left arm at the top. He couldn’t wait to get a closer look. She blinked up at him, a shy look on her face that the animal inside of him preened at. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, love,” he murmured with a rough voice, thick from his desperate arousal. She flushed, a smile curling her lips and he kissed her again, slowly this time as he allowed his hands to wander her body, feeling her bare skin against his rough hands. He groped her thighs again, hoisting her up once more before moving over to the bed. He crawled onto it before depositing her on her back, head on the pillows with her hair fanned out like a halo around her head. He leaned down, grabbing her hands and putting them above her head, lacing his fingers with hers and being mindful of her sore arm that still had his bandana around it. His eyes trailed curiously to the words on her skin, seeing some kind of quote. 

‘Since I was born I started to decay. 

Now nothing ever-ever goes my way’. 

He wondered what it was from, maybe from a book or song lyrics, wondered if he’d get the chance to ask her one day when they weren’t too preoccupied. He nuzzled the side of her face, loving how her breathing picked up and she arched at him. He kissed her cheek, trailing kisses down her jaw.

“Safeword love,” he murmured. He wasn’t really planning on going too far with her today, his main focus was just to prove he could get her off. He hoped there would be many more times for him to explore all the wonderfully sinful things she wanted to get up to. 

“Um… uh…” she stuttered, breathing laboured as his kisses trailed to her neck and he smirked into her skin. “Donuts,” she replied, sounding confused and aroused all at the same time and it just made him chuckle against her neck. He nipped at her then, ripping a moan from her that hit him right in the dick.

“You like that, sweetheart?” he asked huskily and she nodded.

“Yes,” she whispered and he groaned before biting the delicate skin and sucking on it. She squirmed with a desperate moan and he loved how wanton she was being. He moved away, admiring his handiwork as a bruise was already forming on her pretty little neck. 

Giving her a wicked smirk, he moved off her and stood up, grabbing his jumper and practically ripping it over his head. She watched him with rapt interest in her eyes and it made him feel good. She didn't take her eyes off him as he undid his jeans and tugged them off, leaving himself in his boxers before he crawled back on the bed. He settled between her legs, allowing her to feel just what she did to him as his hard cock pressed up against her wanting cunt and she gasped, hands gripping his waist. 

Her reactions to him were intoxicating, made him feel like he was the most powerful man on the fucking planet. He’d never been one to drag this out, never knew it could feel so good. Just like how he’d never been interested in kissing before. It always felt far too intimate for his liking and yet now, he couldn't get enough of it.

“Ready to have your mind blown?” he asked with a sinful smirk and she flashed him an impish smile as her hands smoothed up his back, causing him to hum softly. 

“Still overconfident, then?” she smiled, looking all pretty for him as she blinked her long dark lashes at him. 

His smirk widened into something predatory as he moved away to kneel between her legs, hands trailing over her soft body as he went. He was settled between her parted thighs then and he toyed with the lacy fabric of her knickers, watching as she stared at him with wide eyes. He hooked his fingers into the fabric, slowly dragging them down her legs and finally getting a peak at the flowers. They were roses, three black ones and one yellow that stood out from all the rest. 

He manoeuvred her legs until he chucked the knickers on the floor carelessly, his large hands going to her knees to part her legs that were now trying to close in front of him. He pried them apart, knowing she was feeling somewhat bashful by the slight resistance he felt and by the blush that swept up her entire body. He let out a delighted groan at the sight of her glistening pussy once it was bared to him and he felt his mouth water. 

“Fuckin’ hell, love. That all for me?” he rasped, eyes finally leaving her soaked cunt to look at her. She had this awed look on her face and he hadn’t even touched her yet, but it made a fire ignite inside of him. She nodded and while part of him wanted to chide her to use her words again, he was far too desperate to touch her. 

Teasingly, he dragged his fingers through her soaked folds and she let out a startled gasp, body tensing up in anticipation. She was more than soaked, pretty little thing was more touch starved than him it seemed and he couldn't wait to end her torment for her. 

He slowly started circling her clit, eyes darting between where he was touching her and her face, watching her lips part with little moans and feeling how she writhed against his hand. She was a sight to behold like this, he didn't think he’d seen anything more beautiful and he felt honoured to be the one making her feel that way. 

He slid his fingers down, sinking one into her and his pleased moan got drowned out by the sinful noise she made, her back bowing a little. She was so tight, wet and warm around just one of his fingers, he started to worry he might not fucking fit in her. He eased a second finger inside, feeling her tighten at the intrusion and moan softly, her eye fluttering shut as her head angled back on the pillow. She was a picture of ecstasy and he felt like he’d barely touched her yet. 

He started fucking her with his fingers and he was helpless against the rapt attention she demanded of him in her pleasure. One of her hands bunched in the sheets under her, the other clutching his wrist in a death grip. He found a rhythm she liked, one that had her thighs trembling beside him as sweet little moans left her lips. 

Without moving his hand, he leaned over her, propping himself with a hand beside her head as he stared down at her. His thumb started rubbing against her clit as he pumped his fingers in and out of her and she let out a keening moan, eyes flying open.

“Oh, fuck,” she gasped. Her pupils were blown wide, he could barely see the blue anymore. “I-I…” her words trailed off into incoherent noises that bounced off the walls. He was pretty sure the whole apartment building would be able to fucking hear her and he wouldn’t be shocked if someone called the police on him, thinking he was committing a murder. He’d never had someone so responsive before and his entire body fed off it. It felt like a drug to him, hearing those noises he was causing, seeing her blissed out face. Her moans got higher in pitch and more frequent, her cunt fluttering around his fingers and telling him she was close.

“That’s it, Charlotte. Cum for me,” he purred, feeling like he needed it almost as much as she did. Those words seemed to snap something inside of her and she let out a hoarse cry, her back arching harshly as she shattered around him. He felt her tighten impossibly around his fingers as he eased her through it, her whole body seizing up before it relaxed and the look on her face was fucking delicious. Totally fucked out. He stilled his hand, not wanting to overstimulate her too much given he still had plans for her. 

He watched her lay there blissfully for a moment, eyes shut and a serene look on her face. She looked like an angel.

“You alright there, love?” he asked with a wry smirk and her eyes fluttered open. Her face was flushed but she gave him a radiant smile.

“I think I might be dead,” she replied with a grin and he snorted at her.

“Sorry about that,” he remarked and her grin widened.

“Don't be. At least I died happy,” she sighed dreamily. He slowly eased his fingers out of her, making her gasp a little. His eyes darted to his fingers, coated with her and he brought them to his mouth without a thought. He sucked them clean with a groan. Fuckin’ hell, she tasted good. He didn’t get to go down on someone often since he was the fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type, liked it dirty and quick to get it over with. But he had a desperate need to put his mouth on her cunt and it had been in his head since they'd been back at the bus stop and he promised to get three orgasms out of her. 

When he looked down at her, she was watching him with wide eyes. Her cheeks were dusted with pink but something flared in her eyes that made him smirk wickedly at her as he finished cleaning his fingers off. He leaned down, capturing her lips and forcing her to taste herself. She melted under him, small hands smoothing up his chest as she kissed him back. She was so warm and pliant under him like this and he loved it. He broke the kiss to kiss along her jaw and to her ear, his still clothed bulge rubbing against her pussy that was so soaked, his boxers were getting damp.

“One down, two more to go, yeah?” he asked devilishly, making her squirm as he started kissing down her neck and then her chest. She blinked at him, watching as he grabbed one of her breasts, latching around the nipple with no warning. She let out a loud moan, hand flying to his head, fingers digging into his hair. 

It had grown out a little since his last deployment but he lamented that it wasn't long enough for her to really grab. He thought he’d like it. He sucked on her nipple for a short moment before moving to give the other one the same treatment. Couldn't be playing favourites now, could he? When he had her a squirming mess again, he felt satisfied to continue his journey. He placed kisses down the delicate flesh of her stomach, moving lower and lower.

“Wait!” she called out, making him still instantly. He lifted his head from where he was, devastatingly close to where he wanted to be the most. He wouldn't continue if she wanted to stop though, no matter how gutted he’d be about it.

“What is it?” he asked carefully, running quickly through his head for something he could have done to make her uncomfortable.

“I just… no one’s ever… you know…” she stuttered, gesturing her head to him and what he was clearly on his way to do. He blinked dumbly at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing a little.

“Seriously? I’m startin’ to question your taste in men, love,” he tutted, shaking his head. He shouldn’t be suprised her arsehole ex didn’t go down on her, but he was shocked it hadn't happened even once, even someone else. Something primal surged in his chest at the idea of having this first with her.

“Got you in bed in under an hour, didn't I?” she asked cheekily and it startled a chuckle out of him. She was something else, this one. 

“You're a cheeky bitch, you know that?” he asked, raising a brow at her with a fond smile on his face. Can't say he'd ever had an exchange like this during sex before. She gave him a wide grin that made his heart beat all funny in his chest.

“You like it though,” she countered and he shrugged, because it wasn't a lie. 

“You want me to stop?” he asked her, getting serious for a moment. She nibbled her lower lip and shyly shook her head.

“No, but… do you even want to? You won't hate it?” she asked him, a small frown marring her features. 

“Why would I hate it?” he asked in confusion, not sure what had given her that impression.

“Well… Ethan always said-” she started but he cut her off swiftly.

“Don’t say his fuckin’ name, not here,” he growled and her eyes widened, mouth snapping shut. He hadn’t meant to sound so harsh, so fucking possessive like that, but the idea of her uttering that arsehole’s name in his fucking bed made his blood turn to lava in his veins. Shouldn’t have been fucking shocked that the tosser probably told her he didn’t like going down on a woman, probably didn’t like the taste or some other stupid shit. He wanted to punch him. 

“I’m sorry, that was bad etiquette,” she huffed, covering her face with her hands but not before he saw her red cheeks from the embarrassment. “I just… I’ve never had to do this before, I’ve only ever been with one person. I’m ruining it,” she lamented, her voice slightly muffled from her hands. 

Something tugged in his chest at her words and he moved over her again, one hand propped against her head as the other gently pried her hands away from her face. She wouldn’t look him in the eye and it made him frown. 

“You’re not ruinin’ it, love. I wanna do this, I’ll enjoy it,” he tried to reassure her. She finally looked at him, eyes darting over his face worriedly.

“Are you sure? I don't wanna be a bother,” she frowned and the tugging in his chest got worse. That absolute fucker, Simon was gonna cave his face in if he ever saw him. Making her feel like some kind of burden to take care of. Taking what he wanted from her and leaving her high and dry. Making her feel like her needs weren’t important. 

“Just let me take care of you, sweetheart,” he implored, leaning down and rubbing the tip of his nose against hers affectionately. Her breathing hitched a little, hands splaying on his chest again as she closed her eyes. She seemed to like the little affectionate touch from him and he stored that away for later. She finally nodded and he smiled, happy he’d eased her worries. She had no use for them here, not with him. 

He moved back down her body, settling on his stomach between her parted thighs and he licked his lower lip at the sight. Despite the hitch they’d had in his plans, she was still sopping wet and he smoothed his hands up her soft thighs. He could see her breathing ragged, her hands by her sides, clutching the sheets she lay on. 

He placed a kiss on her thigh, enjoying the soft noise she made when he did. He was overwhelmed by so much being with her like this. She smelt divine. Not just the slick he’d caused but the smell of her skin. He felt like he was getting drunk off her as he kissed and nipped his way up her thigh, sucking on one area to leave a mark behind. She gasped and her hand went back to his head, her body wriggling on the bed a little. He hummed at the sight of the blooming mark, feeling satisfied with it as he continued his trail upwards. 

When he finally got to her cunt, he wasted no time, his patience well and truly thin. He gave her a long lick from her entrance to her clit and she let out a keening moan. He lapped at her clit for a moment, loving how she squirmed against his face before he latched onto it. 

“Simon!” she cried out desperately and he moaned against her, suckling harder at the little bundle of nerves as her body bucked and bowed. How neglected had this poor little pussy been? He hooked his arms around her thighs to keep her in place, sucking on her like a man starved as she gasped and moaned loudly, without care. She started chanting his name like some fervent prayer and he felt himself get lightheaded from the sensation, never thinking his name had sounded so fucking good. 

It didn’t take long to bring her to her second orgasm and he almost came himself at the noise she made, could hardly stop himself from rutting against the fucking bed to find some friction. He moved away from her, licking his lips greedily before kneeling back up to look at her. She had that blissed out look on her face again and a smug smirk tugged at his lips at the sight. 

“Ready for three?” he asked mischievously and she cracked her eyes open, blinking at him slowly. 

“I think you might have fucked the bones out of me. I’m not sure I can move,” she whined playfully and he chuckled. 

“You're doin’ wonders for my ego, sweetheart,” he grinned and she laughed lightly, looking at him with warm eyes. He moved to pull his boxers off then, shuffling himself out of them and tossing them somewhere. Her eyes drifted down to his painfully hard cock and they widened, darting back to his face.

“Will that even fit?” she asked incredulously and another chuckle rumbled in his chest. She really was doing wonders for his fucking ego. He moved to grab a condom out of the bedside drawer, tearing the wrapper open.

“Guess we’re about to find out,” he drawled, an impish smile on his face as he rolled the condom on and moved back to hover over her, propped up with one arm. 

His other hand grasped his throbbing cock and the excitement that ran through him was like nothing he’d ever experienced before. He rubbed the tip around her soaked entrance, gathering her slick, and he moaned softly. She already felt so fucking good and he wasn’t even inside of her yet. He idly wondered how she’d feel without the barrier of a condom. 

Her breathing was heavy, lips parted with desire shining through her blue hues at him. He locked eyes with her as he slowly started to push in and she gasped, hands digging into his shoulders as he let out a noise suspiciously like a whine. Fuck him sideways, she was so fucking tight. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought she was a fucking virgin. It was taking all of his self restraint not to just shove his cock into her until he was in all the way and he resorted to pulling out before dipping back in, pushing himself ever so slightly further to ease her open to him. She didn't look like she was in pain so he kept at it, pushing in a little further after pulling out each time. On the last one, they both let out moans as he finally sheathed himself in all the way.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he hissed, jaw lax and eyes shut as he tried to calm himself before he blew his load like a fucking teenager. He kissed her, needing to stay still for a moment and gather himself. The hand not propping him up grasped her jaw as his tongue tangled with hers slowly, tasting every inch of her. She moaned into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and he didn't think he’d ever felt so weightless before. 

He hadn't dared move for fear of not being able to control himself but he was caught off guard when she arched up at him, making him gasp against her lips. He broke the kiss, opening his eyes to look at her. She was flushed but her eyes had that cheeky glint to them he’d seen at the bus stop and he knew she’d done it on purpose. He started moving then, slowly at first as he allowed them both to adjust to the sensation.

“Feel so good, love,” he purred, resting his forehead on hers as she moaned, pushing back against him. He remembered her saying she liked guys being vocal in bed so he was sure not to hide any of the noises she was ripping from him as he started fucking into her a little faster, watching how her face lit up at each and every one. 

“Such a good girl for me, sweetheart. Takin’ my cock so well,” he moaned and she whined, hooking a leg up and over his hip and he almost shot his load at the angle change.

“Simon… Simon, please,” she begged helplessly, sounding like she wasn’t even sure what she was begging him for, but fuck if it didn’t turn him on more.

“Don’t worry, love, I got you,” he replied, moving a hand to slide under her lower back, just above her arse. He used it to tilt her pelvis just a little but the guttural moan he got from her told him it was enough. He was hitting that spot inside of her and the angle change had his pubic bone rubbing on her clit. She looked like she saw stars for a moment and he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, watching as she snapped like a rubber band by his hand. She was moaning and gasping, body writhing as she tightened like a vice around his cock and he couldn't hold himself back even if he wanted to at this point.

“Good girl, such a good girl,” he rambled through his lust filled haze, rutting into her harder and faster as he chased his own release. Didn't take him long to find it. He came with a deep moan, a wave of pure euphoria starting at his dick and spreading throughout his entire body, even the tips of this fucking toes. 

He’d never felt such a release before and he could barely catch his breath. He cupped her cheek, kissing her lazily as they both came down from their highs. He enjoyed the closeness, enjoyed the softness of the moment as he felt himself come back to earth. He didn't want to crush her, so reluctantly, he pulled out with a hiss, tying off the condom before tossing it in the bin near his bed and collapsing next to her. 

“Told you I’d get three outta you,” he smirked breathlessly and she snorted.

“I’m impressed and very, very satisfied,” she murmured, sounding half asleep. He glanced over at her, watching how she struggled to keep her eyes open.

“Glad to hear it,” he replied softly, rolling on his side, some subconscious need to be closer to her. She opened her eyes then, looking at him warily.

“Should I… Do you want me to leave?” she asked, sounding self conscious. He was reminded she wasn't used to this and to be honest, neither was he. He didn't bring girls back here for this very reason, because he’d want them to leave but didn't want to look like a right bastard. It was easier just to slip out of their place instead without them knowing. But looking at Charlotte, he didn't want her to leave and he found himself dumbstruck with the idea.

“No, you can stay…” he said quietly, “if you want,” he added quickly, suddenly concerned that maybe she’d asked if he wanted her to leave because she wanted to leave. She shook her head quickly though, putting his worries to rest.

“I’d like to stay,” she admitted shyly and he felt relief flood his system, a bright warmth kindling in his chest. 

He reached out, rolling her over to face him and she smiled, moving to snuggle up against his broad frame. She fit against him perfectly, face tucked under his head with her arms pressed against his chest. He slid one arm under the pillow under them so it wasn't in the way, his other slung over her waist, hand splayed on her back to keep her as close as possible. He’d never slept with someone before. When his usual partners fell asleep, he’d be wide awake, biding his time before he could rush out the door. He thought it would be more uncomfortable for him but it wasn't. It felt right. He allowed his body to relax with the feel of her soft and warm body in his arms, getting the best night sleep he’d ever fucking had.

[jerseymuppet]

i might be stupid but. is the gothamverse a muppets batman au? is that what the thing in ur bio means? (either way plz do tell me abt it)

That would definitely be infinitely cooler than my idea! Gothamverse is the beautiful result of me playing arkham knight while waiting for an mcr livestream to start up and thinking ‘damn bitches from jersey are fucking insane! ....wait a minute’

It’s basically a silly little idea I came up last March with where all the mcr guys are from Gotham and what their villain origin stories would be etc. I followed the main Batman villain archetypes: extremist, anti-hero, camp, and serial killer, and I had a fucking blast! It’s very silly and just something I did for fun. I guess I can go a lil bit into it here.

full disclosure, I am psychotic and disabled and I do not believe in the vilification of mental illness or disability in media, all of these characters will eventually get the help they need. Batman at its core is about a mentally ill man helping others who have been failed by society and I will never forgive dc for making him into an overpowered, glorified cop.

Frank’s character (Francis ‘Frankie’ Stein) is the extremist (duh). He’s the son of a mafia boss who is steadily ruining their town with crime and Frankie just kinda snaps and kills him to take his place as the head of the family and try to undo some of the damage done. He has great intentions, he’s just very unyielding and kind of insane 💕 his moniker is Frankenstein! And his whole schtick is that he’s very hard (if not impossible) to kill. He’s also chronically ill and Jewish, these are not important to his character but they are important to me !

Mikey’s character (Micheal Way) is the serial killer. He’s a ‘sociopath’ (theres nothing actually wrong with him, people just suck and made him feel lesser and out of place :/) trying to fit in with everyday society but he always feels like something is missing and becomes a neuroscientist to try to find what exactly it is. He invents a machine (the empathsizer) that allows him to experience other people’s memories and emotions as though they are his own. From there he accidentally gets addicted to the chemical responses his brain has to doing that. And keeps doing it. Even after the testing phase is no longer accepting applicants. It gets worse after he experiences someone’s near death experience and starts chasing the high it gave him. Idk what his moniker is? It’s sandman for right now but that’s honestly so boring and uninspired.

Ray’s character (Raymond Ortiz) is camp but very loosely. He’s an engineer by day and a rockstar by night! He’s really only an engineer to save up enough money to pursue music full time but it’s hard because he doesn’t get paid that much. Winter hits and with it, cuts to his hours! So he’s forced to choose between rent and electricity. When he gets really sick as a result, he can’t afford a doctor. And when he wakes up with his hearing gone as a result, theres nothing he can really do but spiral into a depression. Until he realizes he’s a literal biological engineer. If he can’t fix his problem he can at the very least prevent it from happening to someone else! Research does cost money, so it’s very fortunate that Gotham has so many banks. His moniker is Dr. Megahurtz! His weapon of choice is his guitar, which has been retrofitted with sonic emitters to amplify and weaponize the hertz. Not enough to hurt, but enough to incapacitate.

Gerard’s character (Jules Moss) is the anti hero! She’s (yes I made Gerard’s character a trans girl, they took too long to make a trans character so I did it for them) has the same backstory as Gerard actually! On her way home from work she witnesses a terrorist attack, but instead of starting a band she decides to fight crime instead. She does so bad. Literally her first night out patrolling she gets killed by some priest who’s been driven insane by what he claims is an angel that’s ‘chosen him to impart gods will’ but it’s just a fallen star looking for a vessel to possess and the first guy it came across wasn’t dead lol. The star turns into a sword of pure light and that’s what Jules gets stabbed with, but also it fuses itself to her dna so she wakes up a few days later, schrödingers girl, with some scary new abilities and a voice in her head that definitely wasn’t there before. Her whole arc is her trying to find the guy that killed her and get revenge. Her moniker is stigmata! Because when she gets impaled it also goes through the palms of her hands and the wounds don’t heal.

but yeah that’s the bare bones of it all! I’m planning on making this into a comic series but the script is still being written at the moment! Thank you for letting me ramble about it 💕🥰

[basket-of-cats-and-witches]

In Sickness and Health

In which Kiri finds herself with a persistent cough, and Zayne takes care of her.

We're still on the hurt/comfort train. Personally I loved this piece, for all that it gets a little gross with illness. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, they tell me that people enjoy my writing!

---

“Remind me to beg Captain Jenna to never put us in a swamp again.”

Kiri trudges into the apartment complex. Her clothes are damp, her hair smells like peat moss, and to top it all off, she has a cough that won't go away.

Xavier nods tiredly. He looks almost as bad as she feels. For the normally nonplussed Hunter to be like this, well… “That was…unpleasant,” he agrees. “Especially when it started pouring rain.”

As they step into the elevator, he glances sidelong at her, reaching out to check her temperature. “Are you okay? You look feverish. And you've been off since we got back.”

She bats his hand away. There's a weight on her chest, and her head feels like it's sealed tight with hot steam, ready to burst. “I'm fine,” she replies. “I just need a shower and to burn my uniform. No one should ever wear that thing again.”

Xavier nods his agreement as they reach Kiri’s floor. “I'll see you later?”

She nods. “Later. At least remember to get clean before you sleep.”

His agreement is shut off by the closing elevator doors.

She feels awful.

There's that cough again. It seems to be getting worse, more persistent.

It's bad enough that she pulls out her phone, reluctant and dripping swamp water in her entryway.

Riri💖 [7:14pm]: Zizi, I'm canceling tomorrow. Think I'm sick. Sorry for missing our standing date.

There's no reply.

She sighs and turns off her screen, tossing the phone onto the couch. Peeling the wet, cold clothes from her body is a sensory nightmare.

They slop into a pile on her bathroom floor. Kiri no longer cares, her uniform can just rot there. It's nasty, it smells like swamp funk, and she's pretty sure she's going to have to request a new set anyway.

Whoever designed these uniforms with a built-in corset was sadistic and probably also a Wanderer.

Thankfully, as much as the hot shower doesn't cure her illness, it does seem to help with her cough. She practically hacks up a lung in the billowing steam.

As she stumbles out, she can hear the shrill ring of her phone from the couch.

It's a struggle to make it there, but she does, tiredly pressing the answer button before she checks caller ID.

“Hey,” Kiri says, coughing. “Xav, I think I've come down with something. Make sure to-” the coughing fit doubles down, and she doesn't hear a response before the phone call suddenly ends.

Through watery eyes, she stares at the screen.

Five missed texts and a phone call from “Ice Prince”.

Fuck.

Flopping down on the seat, she groans. There's cough medicine in the cabinet, but it feels so far away.

Maybe she'll just rest her head for a moment, and then grab it.

Maybe….

Kiri wakes up to a cool cloth on her brow. The sheer amount of congestion she has makes her feel like an overfilled water balloon.

She blinks, blearily realizing she's in her bedroom.

“How did I…” she mumbles.

“I carried you,” a gentle voice replies, strangely muffled. Zayne stands in her doorway, a tray in hand. The lower half of his face is covered by a mask. He sets the tray on the nightstand, moving a book out of the way.

“It's likely you have pneumonia,” he continues, grabbing a home thermometer from it. “Open, please.”

“Likely?” She mumbles, opening her mouth.

He nods. “Under the tongue, and close. Good. When you answered, I assumed you thought you were speaking to your partner, Xavier, so I checked in with him briefly. I would have to do further tests at the hospital to confirm a diagnosis, but the symptoms he mentioned and what I've seen here generally tend to line up.”

She pushes his hand away as another coughing fit takes over, turning away as her chest heaves.

He hands her a tissue, and she uses it to cover her mouth as something frees itself, making her feel worse as her throat grows sore.

She pulls it away and groans at the gross contents, and Zayne sighs. “That confirms it. I'll drive you to the hospital.”

One drive later, and they're in Akso Hospital. Zayne handles the majority of the talking, although the poor medical receptionist’s eyes nearly pop out of her head at the sight of the lead cardiac surgeon holding hands with someone.

At some point while he was driving, he took her hand in his and didn't let go.

She hardly minds. Kiri feels like absolute shit, and she hates being a patient at a hospital on the best of days.

Time passes in a blur, and she's being examined and tested before she knows it. The hospital bed is sterile, the sheets are a little scratchy but warm, and she hates being put into a hospital gown.

Still, throughout it all, Zayne continues to hold her hand. His fingers are soft but bony, her knuckles bumping against his. She sighs, coughing, and goes to lean on his shoulder, stopping at the last second.

Zayne gives her an odd look. “Why did you pull away? You can rest on me, you know.”

“I'll get you sick,” she whines pitifully. “You have work later.”

His eyes crinkle behind the mask, and he gestures to it pointedly. “I put in some emergency sick leave.”

“But your patients-” she protests.

Zayne squeezes her hand. “-can wait,” he finishes. “I have a very sick one right here. Not to mention, you're my girlfriend. It's my duty to care for you when you can't care for yourself.” He tugs at her slightly. “Rest.”

With a huff, she settles her head on his shoulder.

For a while, she drifts in and out of consciousness, the sound of the lights buzzing faintly and nurses murmuring in the distance the only sound.

Zayne taps away on his phone, resting his head on top of hers. His breathing is deep and even, strangely soothing in its consistency.

Something pops into her head. “Zayne?”

“Mmh?” He makes a sound to let her know he's listening.

“How did you get into my house?” She asks.

He sighs. “You left your door unlocked. There was also a puddle in the entryway that I cleaned up.”

Kiri winces. “...sorry.”

Zayne shakes his head fondly. “You need to be more careful.”

Someone knocks on the door, and Zayne returns to attention, putting away his phone.

The urgent care doctor comes in, and Kiri closes her eyes, letting Zayne's voice wash over her as the two talk.

“-surprised to see you here, Doctor Zayne. I thought you took sick leave today.”

Zayne nods. “I did. This is my girlfriend.”

Something warms in Kiri’s heart at that, and she looks up at the doctor blearily, nodding.

He's seems taken aback, but smiles. “Oh, I see. You're Kirielle Atwell, right? I have the results for you.”

“Is it pneumonia?” She asks tiredly.

The doctor nods. “You got lucky, thankfully. Tests show it's pretty mild, so we can get some fluids into you and send you home with an antifungal medication.”

She and Zayne both breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are your recommendations?” Zayne asks. “I'll be taking care of her until she recovers.”

Kiri opens her mouth to protest, but all it takes is one glance from her boyfriend and she closes it again with a cough.

The doctor goes through a set of detailed instructions, and Kiri tunes back out. She's too tired to care, even as they give her fluids and her first dosage of medication.

Soon, they're back on their way. Kiri can't help but feel her eyes slide shut, her body trying to force her into shutdown.

Zayne taps his finger against the back of her hand to get her attention, and she jolts back to consciousness.

He snorts, trying to cover a laugh.

Kiri pouts at him. “Don't laugh, I'm sick,” she whines.

“I know,” Zayne says gently. “But I need to ask a question, so stay awake for a bit longer.”

“What is it?” She says, yawning.

Zayne looks at the road, the red light casting him in a crimson aura, glinting off his glasses. “Would you rather recover at your home, or mine? It might be easier for me to take care of you where I can be fully stocked on supplies.”

Kiri glances out the side window as the car continues on, mulling it over. They've got a little ways before Zayne has to turn off to his apartment.

In many ways, her apartment has become a dark, dusty place where she throws down her clothes and passes out before the next mission. Her workload over time has increased, making her restless and unwilling to be at home. There's too much to do, too much to see, and she honestly spends more of her free time at Zayne's than she does at her own.

It's gotten to the point where she keeps clothes in a drawer at his, and one nightstand has become ‘hers’.

Sometimes she feels like she knows his place better than her own.

Kiri turns back to him. Her chest burns slightly, her head swims, and all she can think of is how much better she would feel in a place that's surrounded by everything that belongs to him.

“Yours, I think,” she replies softly. “I know we left things at mine, but-”

He shakes his head. “I can grab anything you need while you're sleeping. I just want you to be as comfortable as possible.”

Kiri smiles warmly at him. “I love you,” she says without thinking.

Zayne accidentally stalls the engine, whipping his head towards her. His eyes are wide, startled, and she realizes she's never seen him blush before.

They're lucky the road is practically empty at this time of night.

Kiri wonders what his mouth is doing underneath his mask.

In her feverish state, she adjusts the one the hospital gave her, making sure it's fully in place, before leaning over and pressing her mask to his in a pseudo-kiss.

He's still in shock as she turns away, looking back out the window. Her face is aflame, and it isn't just the fever.

A few moments later, the car begins to move again. Zayne makes the turn to his place, as silent as she is.

Finally, he pulls into the garage and parks his car, turning in his seat to face her. “Kiri,” he says softly.

It's all he needs to get her to turn. Coughing, she looks at him shyly. “Yes?” She whispers.

Reaching out, he entwines their fingers again, and she can feel the ice that coats his skin.

“I feel the same.” His voice is tender, his eyes soft. His hand trembles against hers.

Kiri beams at him. “I'm glad. I'm glad it was you.”

Days pass by. Zayne thankfully doesn't get sick from Kiri's antics, but something has changed between the two of them.

There's a delightful awkwardness that causes both of them to fluster easily, as if they were both lovesick teenagers with their first crushes.

Over time, Kiri’s fever breaks, and her coughing subsides. She's honestly never felt more embarrassed about the awful things she's hacking up, and whenever she feels miserably disgusting, Zayne comforts her and assures he's seen much, much worse. It isn't quite as persuasive as he thinks, but she's too caught up in the high of “he loves me back” to tell him.

Then, finally, it's over.

She wakes up with her head pillowed on Zayne's lap as he works, catching up on any assignments or patient updates that require his attention.

“Did you sleep well?” He murmurs, his eyes still on his laptop, perched precariously on the couch arm.

She nods, turning and burying her face in his stomach. “I think I'm all better,” she mumbles. “I can think again.”

He hums in agreement. “You sound much clearer. When you called me on the phone that first day, I could barely understand you.”

Kiri groans, pinching his side in punishment. “Don't remind me. I can't believe I didn't check first.”

“Would you still have picked up if it was me?” He asks, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

“Mmhm. You're my doctor, after all. You'd scold me if I didn't.” She sighs as his hand strokes her hair lovingly.

Finally, he hits ‘enter’ and closes the laptop. “Then should I drive you home?”

She hesitates. It's dark and dreary there, like a depression cave. Once she goes, it's likely she won't see him for a while.

Kiri wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her face against his stomach.

“What's wrong?” He asks gently. “Kiri?”

She peeks up at him, and embarrassingly, feels the sting of tears. “I don't want to,” she says in a small voice. The logical Kiri in the back of her mind is mortified by her behavior, but she can't seem to bring herself to care.

“We'll see each other again soon. You know I have to go back to work eventually. There are other patients I have to tend to.” His tone is soft, and it only makes her feel worse when the tears begin to flow.

“I know,” she says miserably. “But it's not home. You're home.”

“Oh,” he says. The weight of what she just said hits him like a freight train, and she watches as it sends him reeling. “Oh.”

Zayne reaches down, pulling her up into his arms properly, holding her tight.

“Then,” he says carefully. “Do you…want to move in with me? I still won't be home quite as much, but…”

Finally free of her sickness, she cuts him off with a kiss.

His hands slide down to settle on her hips, and he returns the affection twice as fiercely.

When at last she pulls away, she nods. “Yes,” Kiri says breathlessly. “My home is where you are.”

Zayne smiles up at her, a full smile, brilliant and as blinding as fresh snow. “And my home is your heart.”

[muffindaddystyles]

Summary: Y/N's feeling icky about her body, but Harry loves her to bits and pieces, through thick and thin, in health and sick — and he always waits for her to come back to him.

TW: Body dysmorphia.

Y/N's healthy.

All she sucks in is having a sane sleeping schedule due to her UNI otherwise she eats natural goodies, cook and bake home because it comforts her more that way and she works out every evening to stay fit.

Sometimes though, she’s lazy and lacks behind which’s proper humane but deep down it effects her and her mental health more than she admits and she isn’t able to start over again – it mostly happens after her periods.

Harry loves her the way she’s.

Even if she’s clumsy, bumbling, procrastinating, overly enthusiastic to mend her life at 3 am, snotty and sloth-y in her periods, confident and positive around people, kind and loving whenever she comes to meet him, whiny and cuddly when she’s sick, jealous and grumpy with his attention not on her —- he loves her in every way possible, to rivers and to sea his love could never stutter for her ever.

He loves how she’s not overly toned, having soft squishy spots which Harry undeniably wants to admire and kiss shamelessly amount of times -- like -- her plummy pretty thighs that Harry likes to nestle his head in-between making her wriggle and squirm under his grasp, her overly cute tummy that Harry dies to pepper sweet adoring kisses and petal his lips round her belly button, everytime they’re cuddled up his bicep’s always looped her around her tummy to feel it rising up and down in calm rhythm, and oh! her tender titties, they’re actually his favourite babies and he loves to fondle them in his big calloused palms brushing his thumb over the sensitive perky nub and basks in the glittery whimpery mewls of hers.

He loves that she’s curvy and gives zero fucks if she’s skinny or not.

He thinks his baby’s perfect.

So perfect he actually feels the bubbling of devotion and affection filling to the brim of his heart’s chambers and leaking out and upon his ribs tickling him.

Y/N's his person and he worships her with his whole heart.

From some days though, she’s feeling devastatingly insecure about all her things Harry’s in love with and she has no-control over it how much she tries.

Harry’s observing that all with optimism (one of his great quality's that like a lion sly about his prey, he keeps an eye on everything but pretends otherwise). He has his intense gaze fixed on her when she’s taking a look of herself in the mirror for rather too long, running her hands down her body and practically shuddering.

He glances from over his laptop and drops everything he's doing watching her go monkies, sweating buckets and over exercising than her usual time.

He brings her closer and infront of him, pressing her to his chest and coiling his forearm around her shoulders whining a, “Baby..!” when they were brushing their teeth and despite of standing beside him and teasing him occasionally like she usually does she stuffs her face into the crest of his back and hides herself there to have minimal contact with her reflection in the mirror.

Her body dysmorphia spiking dangerously high.

“Deprived me of your cuddles. woke me up so early, granny.” She huffs lying through her teeth and how much his embrace was strong enough to keep her in place she still managed to wiggle out taking her previous cosy position, but he could feel her muscles tensing and an awkward silence falling over them.

He didn’t pry much. He wants to give her as much space as she requires to come back to him hale and hearty, as she always does and whatever happens he never forgets to remind her how much he loves her every night.

..

They were watching rom-coms on Netflix back to back with her curled up into his side with a spongy white wool knitted blanket thrown over them and his cheek was smashed atop her head popping in peanuts every now and then when out of certain she spoke pointing at the actress, “You know she got her ribs removed to get that shrinky waist.” Harry frowned at that. His face itching into disbelief and concern under the bouncing glow of telly.

He affixes his gaze down at her trying to read what’s cooking up in that genius brain of her's which isn’t being very rational and genius right now, they immediately turns soft and caring when she blinks up at him purely.

She squeaks, nose crashing against his collarbones when he scooches her up in his lap grabbing onto her knees to make her straddle his torso and he grumbles cutely when she tries not put all of her weight on him and doesn’t melts into him as his sweet lovie would used to do receiving a smack on her bum on his end.

He’s afraid that an evil version of her chomped onto his dear baby alive.

“Nothing else matters if all ye’ organs are packed safely and healthily inside you,” He tells her brushing loose frays of her hair behind her earlobe and rubs his thumb in gentle strokes over her treacly pulsing point, “Was just telling you ...” She mumbles, dotting touches on his knuckles and playing with his bare cold fingers.

It’s true, she was rambling out facts about the movie and cast out of habit because no-way she’d ever go through any surgeries to change herself to become someone she isn’t.

“Swear!” She yawps out in convincing high pitch when Harry squints down at her with his lips scrunched, one eye twitching in doing so.

“Alrighty. I believe you.” He cradles her cheeks in his palms and brings her mighty close to him to peck her cupid bow, then her bottom lip and the corners of her smiling mouth to suckle generous amount of whines from her and then kisses her lovingly – hands streaming down her spine and then resting atop her dip.

He thought she was ready to come back to him, to share her problem with him and Harry really wanted to bug in, to not let her fight her battle alone and take half of her hardships from her fretting self but guess not.

They were about to have sex when panic seeped in Y/N's eyes and her cheeks blazed up in that of embarrassment as she rushed to switch off the lamps that were the only source of light in their room.

“Moppet.” Harry sighed, knowing exactly what’s happening and she isn’t as foxy in covering it up as she’s thinking herself to be.

“Why wouldn’t y'want me t'see gorgeous self of yours?” His tone punctured and hurt, feeling useless for not knowing how to cheer her up and break her worries down. He smoothens his hands behind her to lock his arm around her waist, fingertips making grape sized indents into the flesh of her hip-bone as she streaks the tip of her nose up and down the crook of his neck, murmuring meekly against his salty skin while he hugs her warmly.

“’M just feelin’ shy.” He giggles at her response puckering his lips against her hairline to pet tiny, tiny kisses there as she fists her hands against his taught chest.

“Not somethin’ I haven’t seen before, love bug.” He blows raspberries against the underside of her jaw and their mouths meet into a messy, giggling, teeth clanking kiss when she sinks into pillows allowing him to cocoon her in his heat.

“I love you, Y/N. No matter what.”

.

The last dam breaker for them was this little get together at Sarah and Mitch's baby shower.

She matched her outfit with Harry. Cute lavender coloured little sweater blouse that was familiar to the baggy baby yarn cardigan Harry was wearing, it accentuated her curves and her bosom so prettily -- her midriff peeking from where the buttons weren’t closed and their jeans were painted (they did it themselves one Sunday when it was extra boring and inactive).

Y/N felt uncomfortable in her own clothes. A bitterness spreading inside her for herself and all she wanted was to escape away from her own skin.

She knows she’s loved and welcomed and cherished by her friends and family and the love of her life, most importantly. Then why was she feeling so icky about herself? Why everything's draining her and exhausting her?

Harry obviously could see through the gloomy tenebrous energy overshadowing her as he stood in the corner of the room grabbing the sorbet he poured in two glasses for them.

A sour guzzle of tears choking his throat and his limbs weakening letting the painful heartbreak seep into him when he watches her being fidgety and fiddling with the loops of her jeans, tugging her blouse every passing second and he’s sniffling a hiccup deep in his lungs when she shrinks into herself in dejection staring out of the window without any purpose.

Harry feels awful to startle her when he plops down beside her, coodling her closer to himself and tucks her head beneath his chin subtly and cups his palm under her jaw to make her look in eyes his eyes.

“Hi beautiful,” His tone had a saddening waver in it and his irises mossed bleak when Y/N remains unresponsive, zoning in and out of her own head feeling herself prisoned into her own invasive thoughts.

“You w'na go home darling?” He gives her a wet smile clearing his throat and blinking the stubborn moisture in his eyes away when Y/N nodded without any vivid expression.

All the way back home he denounced himself of not making her feel loved enough, to not to pest her soon about what she’s feeling and letting her slide deeper into the dark hole.

He thinks he’s a piece of shit.

.

Y/N wanted to dig the earth with her own nails and hide into it and never show her face again, she was overly ashamed of herself.

His hand was holding onto hers tightly, never letting it go as he led them through the hallway and his head perked up in confusion when she stopped them abruptly and lunged to wrap herself around him like he’s the last silver of her hope and the reason to live.

“I’m so sorry, so sorry.” There comes the first sob after ages of suffering and bottling it all in, not shocked at all he was expecting it to happen. Gently he picks her up and wraps her legs around him, keeping his support firm under her bum as she cried into his soft white t-shirt.

Carefully he sits them on the edge of the bed and tries to pry her soaky flushed face in his cradle but she refuses to show him, clutching onto his cardigan and whimpering brokenly.

“I just feel so disgusting,” Her sob scratches out of her throat and for a second he thought he heard her wrong, that her feeble crying’s playing some kind of a sick game with his heart.

“Harry do something I don’t want to feel disgusting.” But, when she pleaded helplessly a cold shiver settled in his bone marrow spreading an agonising burn in his stomach.

Gently he stirs her away from his chest to look at her, meeting their foreheads together while his thumb wiped her tears away and smoothed over her wabbly lips in profound tenderness.

“My beloved,” He whispers fondling his nose against hers and her eyes flutters into realm of calms, shaky breath falling over his lips as he brings her trembling fingertips towards them and pecks them feverishly.

“The love of me life, me heart.” He continues, “Shhh. Shh baby ‘s okay to cry but don’t tire y'self.” He hushes her when she whimpers loudly at his coy affirmation.

“I’m here with you, waiting f'you, watching y’goin’ through a stony path so I could be there to hold you whenever you trip –-,” He pets her hair, cupping the back of her neck to plant his lips bitten red from worry to her puffy damp eyelids and Y/N becomes a gooey lax of candle that’s been burning for tiring amount and finally her lover came to blew the agonising flame away putting her to peace as he coos snuggling her in his cordial embrace, “You’ve been so strong to yourself and ‘m so proud of me baby.”

“I’m always here. Never away from you, always right by y'side.” His palms bending around her ribs to smush her as intimately close as possible.

“How d'ya want your huggies babylove?” He simpers down at her darlingly, huffing out in relief seeing her relaxing -- her shoulders sinking from him massaging the knots in them.

“Tight.” She mumbles timidly. The gleam in her glossy eyes returning when Harry hugs her as she wished, squishing her in right places and not suffocating her at all – their breaths in sync chests flushed against eachother.

“I love you cuddly, and care f’you.” He kisses her on lips then goes to hug her right back.

“I love you too, Har. Thank you.” She sniffs in his woodsy scent grazing her touch up and down his back, smooching a soft kiss at his cheek.

[hoe-doroki]

steel and lace

minors do not interact

warnings: 18+, anal play, sex toys, voyeuristic fantasy, scratching, creampie

pairing: bakugou x fem!reader

wc: 3.8k

summary: The only one who manages to get Bakugou’s birthday right is you.

a/n: This is my addition to the Bakugou Birthday Bash collab (masterlist). Many thanks to @lady-bakuhoe​ for helping me flesh out the ideas with this story!! You were integral to this idea, love! And additional thanks to @whats-her-quirk​ and @therealvalkyrie​ for beta reading <333

edit: I no longer write x reader but here’s my old masterlist - mobile | desktop

Bakugou never took work off on his birthday.

Never. Why would he? Villains didn’t give a shit that this was the day the old hag had unceremoniously had him evacuated into a hospital room however many years ago. They didn’t give a shit that his friends—who were also heroes who should be fucking working, by the way—wanna come over to his house and surprise him. As though his reconnaissance-trained ears weren’t as fucking fine tuned at hearing idiots on the other side of the door as theirs.

What villains should care about was that he was a year older, wiser, and fucking stronger, and he was going to kick all their asses. That was what he told all his idiot friends every year when they asked him if he was going to take off work.

Every year he regretted it.

The idiots he works with really must not care about hero work, because every year they want to send him out on a field post sugar crash from some store-bought cake with his name on it. Or buy him gifts that he’ll probably toss in the trash on the way home. He’s not being rude; he just doesn’t need junk that he never would have bought himself in the first place.

Everyone is always grinning at him, wishing him a happy birthday—as though he’s any goddamn happier to see their ugly mugs flapping their lips at him—and trying to start stupid-ass conversations. If he doesn’t like small talk normally, why would he want it on his birthday?

And the singing.

If people really wanted to wish him a happy birthday, they’d find a way to do it silently while doing some respectable fucking hero work. Make his day easier.

But no, none of that was what happened. So he should have just stayed home. Let the villains have a fucking field day on April 20th, and he could have his real gift killing them all tomorrow on the 21st.

But, unfortunately, he was a dumbass and had gone to work anyway, like he’d learned nothing from the last many years of antics. And the continued antics had got him a little pissy. And when he was pissed off, his heart rate increased, his breathing grew heavier, and, of course, he sweat.

Well. Guess what happened?

“Bakugou, I am currently paying to treat burns and fractures on three villains. Care to explain?”

Best Jeanist was sitting in his office chair, blinding sunlight streaming in behind him. Late afternoon sun—darker in color but way more resentful towards human eyes, apparently. It was reflecting off of all of the neighboring glass corporate buildings, making Bakugou squint behind his mask.

Bakugou shrugged, petulant as he stood behind his chair instead of sitting in it. “Overkill.”

Best Jeanist nodded. “Did you…lose control?”

“Tch,” Bakugou scoffed. As if he ever lost control. “Villains were weaker than I thought.”

Bakugou felt the stare of that one fucking eye and stood firm. He knew he was looking at a suspension, hopefully just for a day or two. It wasn’t like he’d done anything terrible. Villains got hurt sometimes, just like pros did, and they got their care and then they got their justice. It’s not like Bakugou was violent on purpose. Anymore. And Jeanist sure as hell knew that, so it wouldn’t take Bakugou off the field for more than a slap on the wrist. He probably wouldn’t even be technically suspended. Just chained by the fucking dick to his desk with some paperwork.

“Just…” Bakugou braced for it, narrowing his eyes but keeping his snarl to a minimum. “Just be more careful next time. Shower and go home—see you tomorrow.”

Bakugou’s jaw dropped. He closed it quickly, trying not to look like Dunce Face in front of his boss, but in all that was real and true what? He was just about to say something—he didn’t know what, probably something insubordinate—when Best Jeanist took out his own paperwork and waved him away.

“Happy birthday, Bakugou.”

Oh. So that was it.

Bakugou grit his teeth. Happy fucking birthday indeed.

It was nothing. His brain told him over and over again that it was fucking nothing. He hadn’t been punished, he hadn’t even really done anything wrong; he just hadn’t been squeaky clean up to fucking code. He could still show up for work tomorrow, business as usual. He should be tickled fucking pink.

But he wasn’t. Special treatment for being the birthday boy? What was he? Five years old and given a pass after stealing the chicken nuggets off Deku’s plate? Jesus Christ.

And if he was honest, he was mostly pissed at himself. Sure, he could blame how the weather always seemed to sprint from spring to summer around his birthday every year, strengthening his quirk. He could blame the villains for being weak enough that they had no business even stepping foot in his neighborhood. But losing control of his quirk even a little—and it had been a little—was fucking amateur and he’d have to pencil in some extra time at the gym. Maybe snatch Shitty Hair for some sparring, and, unfortunately, probably nab an extra therapy session and talk about this anger thing again.

At least walking instead of sitting on that stifling, crowded train car was doing him some good. Let him cool off a bit before he got home and you saw that something was wrong. He was nearly entirely relaxed by the time he got to his building’s lobby, even having the grace to nod at the concierge—who didn’t know it was his birthday, thank God—before heading up the elevator.

When he got off on his floor, it suddenly occurred to him that you might have done something truly repulsive, like inviting his friends over. He could imagine Shitty Hair’s shitty fucking hair sticking up from behind your sofa as he tried to hide before leaping up and yelling surprise.

Well, if that was the case, then the surprise was going to be him kicking all his dumb friends out of the apartment with one foot. Ain’t no way he was going to host a party on his birthday.

It turned out his worry was for nothing, though, because when he turned the knob—fully braced to punch out some teeth with his other hand—he was greeted with a totally bare apartment.

Like barren.

For starters, it was perfectly clean. Bakugou kept a tidy house normally, but this was certainly cleaner than he’d left it this morning. But more than that, there was nothing extra lying around. No stupid friends. No presents. No cake or even the smell of one. It was almost disconcerting.

No, it was a relief. A relief because he didn’t want any of that stuff. He’d had the slice of cake at work—and was slightly hangry now to show for it—and wasn’t interested in having another. And even though you’d choose better gifts than the extras at work would, it was nothing he couldn’t buy himself. So no, this was perfect. He was absolutely not disappointed. Maybe a bit confused. But not disappointed.

He took his shoes off and set his things on the small table by the door. Then he wandered into the kitchen, downed some water, and thought about what he might make for dinner. He might have expected that you and he would make dinner together or maybe even that you would have surprised him with something, but he didn’t mind doing it alone. It wasn’t like he’d learned to cook just to find a housewife someday to con into doing it all for him.

He decided to go to the bedroom first to plug in his phone. He was just sliding it out of his pocket when he opened the door, saw you, and stopped short.

You were on the bed—not in bed, but on it—wearing a black zip up with his signature orange x over the chest. You were on your knees with your legs spread wide, looking him dead in the eye with a deadly smirk on your face, painted in bright lipstick.

“New prototype. You like?”

The two of you had met when you were scouted from his parents’ business to design the clothing for his first merchandise line. He’d sworn off dating you from the beginning, because the last thing he wanted was to give the old hag anything to say about, firstly, her being at all responsible for finding  him a girlfriend or secondly, the fact that dating a fashion designer would mean he was dating his parents. He’d said fuck that to anyone who would listen.

But you’d gotten his brain from the beginning. Your designs were all sick from the sketch to mock up to the prototypes you always wore for him. Maybe he was a simple man for falling for a girl dressed in his colors, aiming to please him, but fuck it. You were talented, too smart for your own good, and pretty as hell.

So what? Now he had a dream girlfriend and one more reason to fight with his mom. Net positive for sure.

Still, that jacket wasn’t a prototype. That was from his first official line, no doubt, and he’d seen you wear it hundreds of times. He knew from here how much it would smell like detergent and how much like you.

You caught his eyes, raised your brows once, and then pulled the zip on the sweatshirt.

Underneath was nothing but lace and ribbon, contrasting the black and orange of the sweatshirt with moss green outlining your silhouette. The moss green from his gauntlets and his belt was caged around you in the thinnest strips of fabric, scraps of floral barely covering your breasts and pussy. The lingerie was an all-in-one, with the tiny bra connected to the panties by a few ribbons crossing over your belly. Not hiding a damn thing, but showing it off for all its worth.

“Fuck,” Bakugou groaned when the sweatshirt hit the bed, your arms still in the sleeves, but the look underneath now fully revealed to him. He could feel the blood going to his dick, just seeing you on display like that getting him up to half mast in seconds.

“Not a lot of coverage on this version,” you mused, sticking your thumb under a bra strap. “Maybe an edit for the second try?”

Bakugou growled, taking a step forward, but you weren’t done just yet.

“I was also thinking maybe full panties next time,” you said, turning around, sitting on your heels. The sweatshirt hung just below your ass, framing round cheeks that were caged by thin elastic crosses, and that was it. Not so much as a triangle of fabric to speak of. “Maybe write: Property of Dynamight on them? Or is that too much text?”

That was all it took for Bakugou to pounce. One arc of his fist had his shirt thrown with a smack to the floor and then his hands were on your shoulders, spinning you face up as he pushed you flat on the bed.

“You know I don’t like unnecessary words,” he growled.

And then he was kissing you, a hand running up the falke stockings pinned on your thighs as you pulled your arms out of the sweatshirt. One leg came up automatically to wrap around his hip, and Bakugou began rutting against your center, fully hard already. On his second grinding thrust, his pants snagged on the scrap of lace you were wearing. Wetness was already glistening on his trousers and he moved his thumb down to your core, groaning at what he felt.

“Crotchless panties?” he mumbled against your mouth. “You’re making this too easy, sweetheart.”

“Shouldn’t have to work so hard on your birthday,” you mewled.

There was a rumble in Bakugou’s throat, half scoff, half chuckle. “Yeah, remind me of that next year, will you?”

You were soaked already—the swipe of his thumb told you that much. Either you’d gotten really excited when he’d texted you that he was coming home early, or you’d…gotten yourself excited at some point after. Either way, it meant that foreplay could wait for round two.

He pulled his thumb away from your core and pressed it against your lip, smudging what lipstick had survived the kisses down your chin. You were half ruined already. You stuck your tongue out and licked at essence on his thumb before sucking it into your mouth, eyes wide as you looked up at him. Fuck, he could feel himself straining against his pants, grinding circles against your half-bare cunt for a spot of relief.

After you licked him clean, he took his hand back, leaving your mouth open and wanting as he began to fuss with the front of his pants. He caught your smudged lips again, holding your jaw with one hand as he pushed his pants down with the other. He pulled his lower half away from you, kicking off the pants—hadn’t bothered with boxers for the commute home—and let them slide off the edge of the bed.

“Ready?” he asked.

Your smile was big and you bit the tip of your tongue, nodding your head twice. That was all he needed. He grabbed his cock in his fist and slid it through your wetness just once, and then he pushed himself in.

Immediately, he felt the drag of something hard and angled against your lower wall right along his cock, pressing from tip to base as he slid home inside of you.

“Woah,” he groaned. “What the fuck?”

You giggled, the action making your walls flutter against him.

“Got myself a new toy,” you said coyly, wrapping your legs around his hips. “Promise you can get yourself something pretty on my birthday too.”

Bakugou reach a hand around your thigh, feeling the elastic garter pulled taut against the stockings that were rubbing so deliciously against his back and his hips. He grabbed a handful of your ass, and the tips of his fingers felt a rounded edge of warm metal slid just between your ass cheeks.

“You fucking naughty minx.” Bakugou grinned, showing all his teeth, rearing back out of you before thrusting back in, feeling the novel pressure of the toy on the way out and back.

No wonder you had been so wet to begin with. You must have lubed yourself up before putting in that butt plug—which wasn’t small, from what he could feel of it. He could imagine you, one leg up on the sink, ass sticking out as you fingered yourself, mouth dropping open when you inserted the toy. How cold it would have been when it first touched your pert little hole and how you’d gotten it all warm for him as you waited with your little secret for him to get home.

“It’s curved to hit prostates,” you gasped as Bakugou rocked hard, steady thrusts into you. “In case you’re interested.”

The thought, much to Bakugou’s surprise, sent a thrill right through his belly down to his dick. He couldn’t help but slam rapidly into you, making your eyes roll back. Fuck, was that something he wanted? It wasn’t something he’d ever thought about, and he didn’t have the mind right now to ponder it.

“God you feel so big.”

“You feel so tight, sweetheart,” Bakugou grunted, refusing to acknowledge the fresh heat that was on his cheeks after your previous comment. “Squeezing me from all sides.”

The butt plug left it so there was barely enough room in your pussy for his cock to pump in and out. The pressure was hard on one side, making him fucking twitch every time the head of his cock caught against it, leading him to opt for long, deep thrusts in and out of you. It was so good that he didn’t even care if the only present he got for his birthday was a little hunk of stainless steel halfway up your ass. He’d gotten home five minutes ago and already he could feel his balls tightening, threatening to bust a nut.

“Just think of it, Katsuki,” you said, your voice dreamy as he fucked you raw. “All the women wearing this set, thinking of you when they show it off for their partners. All wishing that you were the one fucking them. You’d like that, wouldn’t you, baby? But they’ll never have anything but their husband’s sad cock that they pretend is yours.”

“Fuck,” Bakugou growled, putting a hand on the headboard and nearly splintering it in his grip. You were riling him up and it made him want to press his palm flat against the burnished oak and let off his quirk, send shards flying. His hand was already drenched with more sweat than it should have been, just like with those villains earlier. Goddamn this time of year. He couldn’t help it; his quirk begged for it. He was in dire need of release of some kind, and it wasn’t like he could cum yet. He had to know how your pussy felt when it convulsed around him, ass cheeks tensing and squeezing that toy hard against his cock until he was spurting into you.

Bakugou let off a few crackling pops from his palm, moaning as relief filled him, the tension lessened for a moment. A faint smell of wood smoke spread through the room, slightly embittered by the resin blackening around his hand. One more scorch mark on the bed frame. You groaned underneath him, taken by the sight of Bakugou’s ever-tight control slipping for you. You knew he’d fuck you through the bed until the rest of the frame gave way if he wanted. You’d both be flat on a busted mattress and he’d keep going until he felt you clench around him.

“How’s that sound, Katsu?” you continued, your voice growing higher as Bakugou took his hand off the headboard and pressed four fingers, still sweaty and heated from his quirk, against the lace covering your clit. It was soaked through. “A-Ah, you’d like the idea of a woman home alone, dressed up just for you, fucking herself on the dildo she hides in the back of your closet, screaming out your name and hoping to God that her neighbors don’t hear?”

Bakugou couldn’t do the long, slow thrusts anymore. Your legs had grown tighter around his waist, your calves soft and silken against his ass as he kept his thrusts deep. The butt plug was rubbing against the base of his cock as he pounded into you, his fingers swiping over your clit with little finesse, but speed and steady pressure making up for it.

“But no matter…” you continued, the words coming out in little huffs as you panted with your head thrown back. Bakugou couldn’t resist leaning down and licking a line up the length of your neck, biting your earlobe when he got to the top, “no dildo, no matter how expensive, no matter how long and fat, will be good enough. The whole time…they’ll know they’re missing out. Oh, fuck.”

All of a sudden, your thighs were squeezing tight against his hip bones, arms thrown over his back and finger scratching hot lines that would mark him even more as yours tomorrow. Then you were gasping, walls squeezing and Bakugou fought against your grip to pull out just enough so that the metal toy was rubbing just over the cleft of his head with every convulsion.

He didn’t stand a chance. There was hardly any warning before he was cumming into you, streaks of his seed dribbling out of you. He couldn’t even pump himself through it; you were gripping him so tightly and, more than that, he didn’t want to move. Everything was white hot, so he just waited it out, barely moving save for where his hand was still rubbing over your clit.

Eventually you stopped him, grabbing his wrist just as the grip of your cunt loosened around him. Then you brought his hand, glistening with moisture, up to your mouth, and broadly laved your tongue from the base of his fingers to the tips, looking him dead in the eye. You then brought his hand down to your neck, and allowed him to streak the combined fluids across and down your décolletage.

Fuck—there was no way he was going to work on his birthday next year. He’d let villains overtake the city first.

“They’ll know they’re missing out,” you breathed, and it took Bakugou a second to figure out that you were continuing your voyeuristic fantasy from before, playing it out to the end, “They might even think they understand. But the only one who will truly know, is me.”

You smiled, your eyes and grin both heavy, sleepy, sated.

“Got that fucking right,” Bakugou said, pulling out of you, his cum already dripping down your ass. He eyed it, only catching a glimpse of the glinting metal plug before your legs fell to the bed, spread and limp. He smacked your hip lightly with one hand. “Roll over.”

In no mood to argue, you flipped willingly, ass up, plug still hidden from view. The lingerie was damp in some spots from where your wetness had spilled from your pussy. He leaned his mouth towards one of the strips of elastic stretching against the swell of your ass and bit. You gasped, back arching, and Katsuki smirked as he pulled away.

“A fucking lingerie line?”

A chuckle escaped your throat. “It was supposed to be a joke, but now…”

Katsuki pinched the elastic with his fingers and snapped it, watching the slight jiggle of your cheeks as you jolted. “No.”

“But Katsuki,” you whined.

“Mm,” he amended, as close to ‘maybe’ as you were going to get. You both could always talk about the idea—truly ridiculous idea—later. Katsuki put a hand on one cheek under the strips of lingerie and spread it.

There was the plug, a stainless steel handle. It was thin and shaped like an oblong donut, not like one of those cheap bejeweled things. This one, even just what he could see of it, screamed quality, and, for a moment, Bakugou wondered again what it would be like to wear. If you’d gotten it in, he sure as fuck could. And he did hold a certain anatomical advantage in using it.

He put his thumb and forefinger to the phalange and gave the toy a twist, pressing it just slightly deeper into your hole. You groaned, your voice low and deep in the pillow like when he gave you a back massage. He smirked and kept at it. Seemed this was a birthday gift for him after all.

“Katsu, don’t tease,” you moaned. “Sensitive.”

Bakugou, however, had no mercy. He flipped you over again, pulling a little yelp from you, and then picked you up bridal style, carrying you off the bed.

“Where are we going?” you asked, your voice suddenly much more awake.

“Shower,” he answered simply. He squeezed the meat of your upper thigh. Not quite your ass but close enough for the point to be made. “I’m not done with my present yet.”

[slowpoke-fics]

Poison

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Pairing: Stefan x Reader

Request Summary: The reader has anger issues and is on verge of becoming an alcoholic as she feels helpless. Stefan helps her through to quit alcoholism and fight her fears and control her anger.

Warnings: alcoholism, self deprecation, Stefan being hungry, ooc Stefan and matt? idk I know I've missed some, as always read at your own risk

A/N: Yoooooo, welcome me back to the land of the matrix folks because I have crawled out of my pit of despair to bring you 1000 or so words that will hopefully give you a small rush of serotonin!

My friend, @yipee101, has been so patient and kind, they may have forgotten about this but I did not!! I hope you enjoy love.

Thank you pals for being patient with me.

Blessed be to all of you and sweet love to come your way <3

You slipped your sixth shot of whiskey down your throat, pouring another as you listened to Elena and Damon put their vamp skills to good use again. It just reminded you of what you couldn't be, and you had to admit it made you a little sick to be the only one who couldn’t defend herself. The only one so vulnerable, so mortal. Nobody would let you turn, everyone just wanted to keep you 'pure.' Your blood boiled just thinking about it. You decided you weren’t gonna just stand there and listen to them fuck, so you took your shot and slammed the glass down so hard it shattered. You headed for the door, not waiting around in the Salvatore house for Stefan when all you could hear was thudding and graphic moans.

As you stumbled to the door you went through your purse to find your car keys. Grabbing the handle and pulling the door open you were met with Stefans confused face. You walked right by him, “You know, if you were gonna be late we could’ve met at the Grill.” Stefan beat you to the car, taking the keys from you and putting you in the passenger seat. You pulled out your flask and began drinking, “Sorry I was late love, don’t you think you could slow down?” your blood boiled.

“Listen sweetheart, I know that you think you know what’s best, but the drinking isn’t a problem.” Stefan shakes his head as you take yet another swig, “Why do you keep drinking so much anyway?” You smiled big, clearly not wanting to talk about it, "After listening to Elena and Damon fuck for an hour, I think it's okay," raising the flask as if you’d raise your glass, spinning around to lay your head on his leg, you down a good mouthful of liquor, “So babe, how come you were late anyway?” Stefan sighed, “I got caught up hunting was a little hungrier than normal.” You gently reached your hand up and rubbed Stefan’s arm reassuringly, “It's okay to be hungry, I know it’s hard.”

You arrived at the grill, quickly pulling the bottle from your backseat and refilling your now empty flask. Stefan met you at your side of the car, allowing you to slide your arm perfectly with his for support. "It's lovely, ya know?" You mumbled as Stefan opened the door for you, "What is Y/N/N?" Sliding into the booth, "To be so drunk all the time that I don't have all the flies buzzing 'round me. All the little worries just whoosh, and everything is just so fun." Matty comes up to you and Stefan, taking your order and allowing you to order a rum and coke and a random meal.

After about ten minutes, Matty brings you another drink, you slammed it back, chugging and pounding the glass on the table a little too hard. Matty saluted you, bringing you another. You went back to back for a good half hour. Matty started to sit down another for you, but Stefan interjected, “I think she’s had enough tonight Matt.” Matt nodded, looking at your disheveled figure, head lying on the tables arms crossed under your head, ready to pass out. “‘M ready to go home,” you mumbled as you laid back in your booth, happily relaxing into the overly inviting cushions. Stefan lightly laughed, trying to cover the true concern he had for you.

Even though you guys had been dating nearly a year, this is how it always was. At first, he didn’t notice it, but the closer you two got the more you allowed him to see. You had finally explained to him that it was ‘your normal,’ that it had been since the night at the haunted house and Stefan almost died trying to save you from a vampire. Stefan looks at you for a minute, recalling the words he would never forget you said, “Nobody gave a shit back then so don’t start caring now.” Stefan picked you up out of the booth, carrying you to your car and softly closing the door. As he got back into the car, he noticed you trying to finish off your flask. He had decided in that moment, enough was enough. He took your flask from you, eliciting a heavy groan from you that didn’t last long because of your truly fucked state. The last thing you remember is laying your head on his leg as your normal position, his fingers running softly through your hair.

When you woke up the next morning you instantly ran to the bathroom, unlucky to be one of the times you had a hangover. You pounded on the floor next to your toilet, trying to alert Stefan. He was instantly next to you, handing you a cup, no doubt his special morning blend with enough of his blood to make all of this go away. He gently pulled your hair up and wrapped it in a bun, watching as you drank the contents of the cup, knowing it would be over soon. In truth, it was. After you finished chugging the cup you leaned back onto Stefan. “Good morning,” you laughed, “I hate for us to start it this way,” Stefan mumbled as he kissed your forehead, sliding his arms under yours and pulling you to your feet. You spun around to face him, “What the fuck?” you near shouted. “Why do you have to nit pick so fucking early?”

"It's not nit picking, Y/N" He tried to speak non-confrontational, "I am genuinely worried about you. This isn't healthy-you're not invincible to this." You scoffed, pushing past him and downstairs to your kitchen, Stefan following suit as you spoke, "You mean I'm human, right? Defenseless and vulnerable?" You shook your head, interrupting him as he tried to speak, "No-don't even, this wouldn't be a problem if I was a vampire. If I wasn't so fucking needy, always pitifully needing protecting, can't even decide how much liquor to drink." You slammed the coffee pot back in it's place, impatiently waiting for it to finish. "I don't think you're pitiful or needy. I think that you're drinking too much and putting your life in needless danger and you won't tell me why."

You flailed your arms, spinning around to pour yourself a cup of coffee, grabbing a bottle of liquor and starting to pour some in, but Stefan's hand is on the bottle. You slammed the bottle down turning to Stefan, shoving him back with every scream, "You stupid fucking," shove, "I told you," shove, "it makes me feel better!" shove. You sighed, "I'm sorry," running your hands on your face, sighing again, "Just, get the fuck out Stefan." You turned back to your cup, pouring the liquor, only to be stopped by Stefan, "No." Your blood boiled, "Get the fuck out!!" Stefan took the bottle from you, setting it back on the counter, "Not if when I leave you're just going to drink that."

You instantly threw your coffee cup, watching it shatter into pieces before grabbing the bottle and turning it up. You chugged and chugged until Stefan pulled it away from you, "You gonna fucking leave now?" Stefan stepped closer to you, hating the way the alcohol burned his nose, like a poison coming off of you, "Baby, I'm not going anywhere." You screamed, out of frustration or shame you weren't sure which, it was a blood curdling scream, slamming your hand down, hitting the liquor bottle cross the floor enjoying the way it shattered. "What the fuck is your problem?"

"You! This!" Stefan sighed, "You won't talk to me, you brush me off and act like this isn't something I should care about but it's been like this as long as I can remember, I'm worried, I can't protect-" You slammed your hands down on the counter over and over, kicking the cabinets and laughing, "Jesus Christ Stefan, I don't need your protection!" Stefan grabbed your hands, turning you to him as gently as he could, your strength diminished from the bottle of alcohol you chugged, "I want to protect you, I want to, I know you don't need it, I want to," his voice to a whisper at the end of his plea, "I want to," his hand moved from your wrist to your face, "I love you, I want you to be around as long as possible, I need to protect you, you don't need me to, I do."

You sighed, your forehead resting on his, "I love you too," you pulled your wrists back, "I'm sorry." Starting to pull away from him to clean the mess up, he was gone and back before you noticed the mess was gone. "Talk to me," Stefan said as you walked past him, sitting on the couch. "I hate myself," you sighed, "I'm so weak and puny, I feel like I'm always in the way," you shrugged, "I get so angry all the time, maybe not even at other people, really at myself," leaning against Stefan as he put his arm around you, "Drinking helps, really?" he asked hoping to hear an honest response. "If I'm honest? No, I just feel like it's better than feeling like this all the time."

Stefan slid his arm under your legs, his free arm moving your arm around his neck before moving around your waist and standing up. "What?" You looked up at him, he smiled, "I have something that might help." In the next moment, you guys were out of your house and watching everything rush by until you hit forest. Suddenly Stefan stopped running, setting you down gently, smiling, "I was gonna show you to this on our anniversary, it's not finished yet, but I don't see why we can't go ahead and visit."

You started to ask what he meant until you saw it-near dead ahead was a large clearing, but it had been worked on, there was a stack of rocks with one slab of rock covered in the softest moss you'd ever touched, "So you can read and do homework comfortably," Stefan said, pointing up to the makeshift roof of vines that you now notice wrap around the trees, making a circle around the clearing, you loudly gasp, taken by the beauty and effort he's already put into this for you, for your relationship.

You continue to look around as he points to an obvious training area, he smiles, "I know that you've been struggling, but I didn't realize how much," he moved closer to you, his front now pressed against your back, arms encircling your waist, chin resting on your shoulder, whispering in your ear, "I'm gonna have Bonnie protect it, it's gonna be just us here, me n you gonna relax, you're gonna read over there, train over there, we can put a table for picnicking over there-" he points to an area that is close to the moss bed, "and lots of flowers and colors, to always brighten our day, gonna put a vine door-" you turned around and kissed him.

Your hands were on the side of his face, hair intertwining with his hair, he lifted you up, your legs circling his waist, you feel him smile. You pulled back, "I love it, thank you, this is going to be great," you kissed him again, "you know, it is our space, I could help you put stuff together, whatever you wanted to add." Stefan nodded, kissing your forehead, "I think when you wanna drink we should come here." You kissed under his ear, trailing down his neck, "two conditions," Stefan hummed, moving his head to the side he allowed you more access as he pressed you against one of the many trees that circled the clearing.

"Well, we'll come here when I wanna drink, if we'll come here when you get hungry," Stefan let out a small groan as you bit his neck gently, loving how he pulled your hair. "And the second?" He asked as your hands traced down his torso, grabbing the hem of his shirt, "you fuck me, now." He smiled, kissing you hard, and the next thing you know, you're sitting on the edge of the moss bed. "Easy," he pulls off your shirt, admiring your body for a moment, "it's a deal."

[sharkboygirlish]

Messy.

ONE-SHOT

Word count: 2793

Disclaimer:  One piece and all it’s characters belong to Eiichiro Oda, I just like to write about them.

Warning: None

Rating: T (i guess?? there’s cursing)

Author’s Note: Whale, this is the first fanfic I’ve posted on the interwebs since high school so please keep that in mind, lol. I do plan to finish it sooner than later so check back in a few days if you want to read the rest, sorry I don’t have it all done right now.  At long last it it FINISHED.

Feel free to tell me what u think! Unless it’s mean, then I ask that u keep those thoughts in ur noggin because I’m just writing these for fun not for grades.

Without further ado, here ya go.

Author’s Note pt 2: So i didn’t end up going the smut route like I originally planned, but I think it worked out better bc this one got nice and Emotional.

Summary: Zoro really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

__________________________________________

The moon was floating high in the night sky when Nami wandered onto the deck, unable to sleep even after a few hours of sketching. 

She wanted company – specifically, she wanted the company of the crew’s resident alcoholic. It only took a few minutes to find him on the lawn deck with his back against a tree and his eye closed. ‘How typical.’

Nami smiled a small, excited smile as she strode over to him and squatted between his parted legs. An unconscious sigh left her nose as she swept her gaze up and down his face. She caught herself thinking, ‘He really is easy on the eyes isn’t he.’ ....again. 

Who was she kidding? She’d been thinking the same thing every time she looked his way lately. 

Two years ago she’d been able to keep the immature crush she had on him locked tightly away but somehow - it had gotten out and was slowly consuming her entire being. 

Nami hoped he hadn’t noticed how often she invited him to drink with her because she didn’t think she could handle being rejected. So she settled for spending time alone with him whenever and however she could. 

“Hey, moss-head,” the navigator said finally, leaning in to squint at him, “Are you asleep?”

He had literally just settled down for a nice cat nap when the navigator appeared suddenly to interrupt him. ‘Damn. What the hell did she want now?’ 

Instead of answering, Zoro chose to ignore her and pretend like he was deep asleep. ‘Why won’t she go bother someone else?’

Nami started prodding his cheek with one finger to rouse him if he really was sleeping, ”Zorooo wake up, I wanna drink,” she whined and his eyelid opened instantly.

‘Why’s she so damn pretty..’ was the first thought he had when he realized that she was a lot closer than he’d anticipated. 

He mentally chastised himself after, trying to remind his id that Nami had never once indicated that she wanted to be anything other than friends and he should respect that. 

But… There was no harm in looking from time to time was there? And she was pretty. She’d always been... ‘Oh for fuck’s sake, now he sounded like Sanji. He needed to get a grip.’

“Helloooooo,” Nami waved her hand in Zoro’s face until he snapped back to reality and snatched her wrist up, pulling it away. He scowled but it wasn’t deep, and now he was refusing to look her in the eye. “What was that about, huh Zoro?”

“Nothing.” The swordsman replied perhaps a little too quickly to avoid suspicion, “Thought I heard a noise, doesn’t matter – oi, didn’t you want to do something?” 

He couldn’t remember what exactly it was. He’d been so distracted by the way her bangs framed her face and sometimes got caught in her eyelashes—’Damnit! He was doing it again.’

Nami smirked again but didn’t press the subject anymore. She’d do that later once they started drinking. “Weren’t you listening to me? You’re so rude, maybe I should find someone else to share my booze with.”

Was it a good idea to go drink with Nami when he kept catching himself thinking about feelings that he’d been suppressing for the last two years? Probably not…

But he couldn’t just decline an opportunity to get buzzed. ‘And... Maybe he wanted to get buzzed with Nami, specifically.’  

Zoro scoffed, mostly at himself. “Quit playing games, damnit, do you want me to drink with you or not?”

“You’re so stubborn,” The navigator teased with a pleased smile that made his heart beat unevenly, “I could care less if you join me, but you’re not allowed to come unless you say you’ll be nice.”

“Nami. I am older than you, quit treating me like a fucking child or I swear-”

“That’s no way to talk to a lady who’s getting you drunk for free, Roronoa Zoro. If you can’t be nice then I’ll just add the cost of everything you drink to your debt and-”

Zoro didn’t have time to ruminate over the way hearing her say his full name made him shiver because he had to shut her up before she did charge him. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll be... nice.” He hissed through gritted teeth and her answering giggle made his pulse flutter. He had to fight to keep himself from smiling. ‘What the hell was going on with him tonight? Was he sick?’

“Good boy,” she turned and started walking towards the Sunny’s aquarium bar, glancing back over her shoulder to make sure he was coming.

“Don’t push your luck, woman.” Zoro snarled to mask his confusion over the sudden need to touch her that he felt scratching at the back of his head. He really shouldn’t agree to be Nami’s drinking partner if he wanted to keep their friendship from getting... Complicated.

He knew it, but he followed her up the stairs all the same.

                                                       * * *

“Why d’you always want to drink with me anyway, witch?” Skeptical of her intentions, his narrowed eye fixed itself on Nami as she approached him holding two maroon tinted bottles. She offered one to him and he accepted it – but he didn’t let his guard down yet.

Zoro lowered his gaze to check the label out, whistling long and low when he read 23% alcohol per volume. A couple puzzle pieces clicked together in his head ‘Oh, that’s why. Because if she tried to drink this with anyone else they’d pass out after two glasses.’

“Would you believe that I just like hanging out with you?” Though her tone was teasing she was actually being genuine, she had a lot of fun with him whenever they went out.

“No–“ He paused when Nami kicked him in the shin hard enough to make him swear. Reaching down with his free hand he rubbed the sore patch of skin and glared daggers at his crewmate. “What the fuck was that for?!”

“You said you’d be nice, Zoro! So be nice or I’ll charge you a hundred thousand beris for that bottle.” Nami uncorked hers but waited to hand the corkscrew over until he behaved himself. The look he was giving her would probably frighten a small child but she didn’t flinch.

‘This was his choice.’ He reminded himself. Of his own free will he chose to get drunk with Nami instead of napping, and that meant dealing with her bossiness no matter how much he loathed it. ‘Sometimes he just wanted to grab her by the shoulders and make her shut up, there were better things her mouth could be doing anyway-‘

“Why do you keep staring at me like that, do I have a zit or something?”

Zoro sat up so fast that he banged his shoulder on the underside of the countertop. ‘What the hell was that? What the hell was wrong with him?’ He hadn’t even opened the damn bottle and he was already making himself look like an idiot.

“No,” the swordsman grumbled, wracking his brain for a believable excuse, “Just thinking about how I’ll owe you money even after I’m dead if you keep charging me for bullshit.” That made her laugh and Zoro cursed himself for how much he liked hearing it. “Don’t see how it’s funny for me, witch.”

Nami let him take the corkscrew from her, eyes crinkled with amusement while he opened his bottle. “You’ll just have to stay alive until you pay me back in full, I guess!” She trilled before taking a long, heavy drink from hers.

“Yeah?” Zoro snorted before mimicking her and downing about half of the wine in the container. It tasted disgusting, which he’d expected, but that didn’t make the bitter aftertaste any less miserable. His nose wrinkled slightly as he set the bottle down. “I bet even if I did try to pay you off you’d find a way to charge me more.”

“You make me sound so heartless,” the navigator batted her eyelashes innocently, pretending to look hurt, “Why would I ever do such a thing?”

“Hah.” He scoffed before chugging some more wine and failing to keep track of how much he was drinking each time. “Because you want to keep me on a leash since I don’t throw myself at you like that dumbass cook.”

An impish smirk crawled it’s way onto Nami’s face that made him immediately regret what he’d just said. ‘Fuck. Damnit!’

“So…” She began slowly, savoring every second that the swordsman spent avoiding direct eye contact with her, “You admit that you are one of my lap dogs?”

A muscle in his jaw flexed and he stopped drinking for one second to grunt, “That’s not what I said.”

“That’s what I heard!” Chimed Nami as she rose from her seat, stepping over to Zoro and tracing a finger under his jaw while he drained the last few drops of liquid. “I should get you a collar, so people know who to bring you to when you get lost.”

Normally he would have snapped at her for poking fun at his sense, or lack thereof, direction but he wasn’t listening to her. She’d come close enough for him to pick up her scent and maybe it was the alcohol intensifying his feelings, but it was suffocating him in a good way.

He loved the way she smelled. Tangerines from her soaps mixed with salty seawater and traces of sunscreen. A hint of orange blossom, but only when she was close to him like this. 

Zoro inhaled deeply through his nose and, without realizing it, his expression melted into something affectionate and gentle. ‘In two years she’d changed in so many different ways… but she still smelled the same. She still smelled like home.’

                                                        * * *

“What are you thinking about, Zoro?” Her voice void of it’s usual teasing tone, Nami’s curiosity was piqued by his sudden shift in demeanor. He looked soft and peaceful, like he didn’t have anything to worry about. She wanted to know why.

‘Ah, fuck.’ What was he supposed to tell her? That he was thinking about how good she smelled? ‘Yeah right.’ Zoro was quiet for a while, mulling over his words until he came up with an explanation that didn’t sound as creepy – but also wasn’t a lie.

“I guess..” he finally murmured, his gaze shifting to meet hers, “It’s just been a while and… I was thinking about how nice it feels to be back here, with everyone…” a brief pause then he added, “I missed you guys.” ‘Look at him being all gushy and emotional, this wine really was something else.’ Zoro reached to brush his fingertips by her temple, catching a stray lock of hair and tucking it behind her ear, “I missed you.”

When had Zoro ever been this honest with her about the way he felt? Never was the answer, but now he seemed to trust her well enough to know she wouldn’t spill his secrets. Nami took his face in both of her hands, surprising him, and pulled his head down so she could kiss his forehead. “I missed you too, Zoro.”

Something about hearing her say that she’d missed him too broke a dam in his chest that he’d been trying to keep together for two years. Hormoness flooded through his bloodstream quicker than Zoro could even process them and before he knew it he was practically throwing his arms around Nami’s waist and crushing her against his chest.

“Nami—�� he pressed his face into her neck to hide the tears that he couldn’t hold back anymore. Sober he might have cared about losing it like this around her but she was here and… ‘He just – needed to hold her.’ Hold her and smell her and feel how real she was because she had almost been taken from him.

‘He’d barely begun to process what he had been through on Thriller Bark when they were attacked in Sabaody. If he tried to think back on it his memories would get hazy and his bones would ache from their very cores. He knew what had happened but it’s like his brain was protecting him from understanding how close to death he’d come. Then – to be torn away from the people he loved with all of his heart? Who he had just nearly killed himself to protect?

It had ripped him apart and rubbed salt into every wound. And it fucking hurt. The same kind of pain he felt when he saw Kuina dead on the floor of their dojo. He was scared, he was furious, he was devastated – all over again but this time it was so much worse. So, so much worse.

That was why he had trained so hard over the last two years. Because he couldn’t bear the grief that came with loving them so deeply – so he got stronger. And stronger. And stronger. No matter the cost to his body, he would become powerful enough to defeat anyone who crossed them. Then… He would never have to feel the agony that he did when he first woke up on Kuraigana Island ever again.

Taking on all of Luffy’s suffering in Thriller Bark had been the most physically painful experience of his entire life – but that was nothing compared to how much it hurt to think that his friends were gone forever, that he hadn’t been able to protect them.

Training made it easy not to think about what had happened -- but now he was home, and they were safe - and he was realizing just how close he’d come to losing all of them. At once. And he could do nothing to stop it.’

Startled by him grabbing her, Nami was prepared to give the pirate a good smack if he was getting handsy but… He started trembling. ‘Was he not feeling well?’ Her mouth opened to form the question then stopped. His breathing hitched while his entire body jerked and she realized…

‘Zoro was crying.’

Roronoa Zoro, who prided himself on his strength, was sobbing wretchedly into her neck. ‘He must have been holding this in since Sabaody.’ Nami’s heart ached for him and his stupid pride that forced him to torture himself instead of letting him cry like he needed to. She’d been expecting him to crash at some point, how couldn’t he? Even someone as strong as Zoro was still a human being.

One of her arms cradled his head while the other wound round his shoulders, her fingers combing gently through his hair. “Oh you sweet, sweet boy…” she spoke in the tone that Bellemere used to use when Nami and Nojiko were frightened by a passing thunderstorm. It always calmed her, maybe it would calm Zoro, too.

‘Quit fucking crying you loser you’re supposed to be a man.’ But he couldn’t, he literally could not stop because he was trying to. “I wasn’t strong enough,” his voice quivered at the edges and he hated it. ‘He was definitely never going to drink this kind of wine again ever. Not if it turned him into a blubbering mess like this every time.’

“Shhh, no. No. Don’t you dare try to blame yourself for what happened. Hey, look at me.” Nami urged his head off her shoulder and cupped his face in both of her palms, “None of us were strong enough, okay? Not even Luffy.” Each tear that fell she tenderly swept away with the pad of her thumb. The corner of her mouth turned up as she assured him, “But we are strong enough now. We can take care of each other. Nothing is ever going to tear us apart again, Zoro.”

‘She was right. Of course, she was right. He needed to have faith in his crewmates and his captain. They could do anything as long as they had each other.’ His breathing slowly evened out as he focused on anchoring himself back to reality. He wasn’t in Sabaody or Kuraigana – he was on the Sunny. In the bar, with Nami who had grown so much since he last saw her. The look in his eye softened like it had before his breakdown.

“You’re staring at me again, Zoro.” The navigator teased, her hands falling to rest on his shoulders. He hadn’t let go of her yet but she didn’t mind, he could hold on to her for as long as he needed.

A ghost of his usual smirk passed across his face. “Sorry, Nami…” Zoro took a little risk by leaning in to press a chaste but lingering kiss to her cheek, then traced a path with the edge of his nose to her ear, murmuring, “Wine makes me a little… Messy.”

[deepdarkdelights]

10 Days (Jungkook x Reader)(10 Seconds Pt 2)

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 7.9k

Warnings: Yandere, Stalking, Obsession, Non-Consensual touching (This becomes intense, if this is triggering for you please do not read), Kidnapping, Hard Manipulation, Mentions of past abuse/torture, Brainwashing, Blood

I do not condone the acts displayed in this story nor do I believe any members of BTS would actually engage in this type of behavior. This is simply written for entertainment purposes and should not be taken as a reflection of my own values, opinions, or morals. 

Preview: There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

Read Part One Here Read Part Three Here 

You had never felt more hopeless in your entire life. It felt like your energy had been completely drained from your body. His parents still stood by the door, talking amicably with their son. His mother practically had stars in her eyes as she was nestled close into her husband’s hold. Nothing scared you more than the thought of being in her place one day. Chills of disgust rolled down your spine as you imagined yourself and Jungkook together like that. His arm curled around your shoulder as you came home to your son, hanging for dear life onto a terrified girl, her eyes wide and brimming with tears begging for help. Is that what your life would be like? Would you too fall victim to your captor like she had? Would the cycle continue and for how long had it been happening in Jungkook’s family?

Your heart thudded in your chest as your eyes zeroed in on the door behind his parents. Could you make a run for it? Could you get away from him if you tried now? Or would that be your death sentence? You were undoubtedly outnumbered, but his parents were on the older side and it would be much harder for them to run after you. It was just Jungkook you had to worry about, his mother seemed harmless and his father was too caught up in his wife. Maybe you could do it, when would you ever find a chance like this again? They hadn’t even locked the door! 

Your grip on Jungkook’s shirt began to loosen as your gaze was pinned to the door that was lightly swinging open with the breeze. You could do it.

“(Y/N).” Never mind, you couldn’t do it. 

“Baby, I need you to listen to me. I know you’re anxious right now but I need you to be a good girl, okay?” Jungkook asked, turning around to cradle your face. 

You nodded your head in compliance as his hand slipped away from your face to cradle your own. He tangled your fingers together and slowly led you over to his parents. His mother had a huge grin on her face and she seemed genuinely excited, vibrating with joy as you approached. Jungkook nudged you in front of him and rested his hands on your shoulders, his grip tense like he was warning you to behave. His father fixed you with a stern look, your body shuddering at the familiarity. He was so much like his son that it was scary. It really did seem like there wasn’t a way out of this and your heart shattered at the thought. You were going to be stuck with a family of people who were deluded, they actually believed that this was okay. 

“Hello dear, it’s so nice to meet you.” She said with her best attempt at a comforting smile. It was strange to think she had once been in your place when she seemed so satisfied with her life. Fuck, she had even given birth to her kidnappers son. Would that be expected of you? Were you supposed to help continue this sick cycle? At the rate that things were going, you weren’t sure how long you could hold Jungkook off. He was clingy and becoming more handsy the longer you two spent together. Carrying his child may become a reality faster than you had anticipated.

You felt Jungkook’s fingers tense as he dug into your shoulders a little harder, you still hadn’t answered his mother.

“It’s-It’s nice to meet you.” You choked out with a smile that looked more like a grimace. You were not convincing whatsoever and that was reflected in the harsh stare of her husband.

Your heart continued to pound violently in your chest, what were you supposed to do? It felt like the walls in the room were slowly closing in on you. Once again, you were reminded that there was no escape. You were like a songbird trapped in a gilded cage and you desperately wanted to stretch your wings and break free from your prison. You could feel the panic attack coming, this hadn’t been the first one since Jungkook had taken you and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. Your chest was tightening and it was becoming difficult to breathe as your heart hammered harder than before. There were a million thoughts racing in your head all at once as crisp tears began to roll down your cheeks. You clasped your hands together in an attempt to stop their trembling as your gaze zeroed in on the creaking hinges of the screen door. You were losing it. It became harder to keep a grip on reality as you felt the wave of anxiety come crashing down over you.

“Are you alright, sweetie?” Mrs. Jeon asked, her voice brimming with worry as she approached you. She gently grabbed your hands and pulled you away from her son who whined in irritation. Her dainty hands carefully smoothed your hair back as she tried to meet your gaze.

Of course you weren’t fucking alright. Any sane person would be able to see that from a mile away. You had been locked up for only God knows how long with one person who could change moods so fast it would give you whiplash. Her caring question only made everything worse, you were expected to say that everything was okay, that you were happy with her son and delighted to meet his parents. You were supposed to be the dotting girlfriend when you were so obviously the distraught victim.

How could someone with such a gentle, caring, motherly touch horrify you so much?

With a choked sob you pushed her off of you and made a sprint for the door. Within seconds you were flying through the door frame, your bare feet slapping against the wood of the porch and flying through the stretch of grass that spread over the empty field surrounding the house. It was windy and the sky was clear, the pale moonlight shining down on you as you desperately ran. You could hear Jungkook behind you screaming your name. His voice was a blend between being distraught and riddled with anger.

If he caught you, would he kill you?

His footsteps were loud and fast, he was sprinting as hard as he could to catch up with you but you were far too desperate to let him catch you so easily and so quickly. Before you knew it, you were in the forest. The trees were tall and thick, covered in moss. You weren’t thinking at this point, in fact you were just blindly running hoping to God that just maybe you would be able to out maneuver him.

You had never really tried to escape Jungkook, well you had never been able to actually try. Hell, this was the first time you were even near the front door. You couldn’t let him catch you as you would never find another chance to run away from him again. Not to mention, moments before his parents had entered the lake house, he had warned you that he was not above punishing you. You didn’t want to even think about what his punishments would entail for you.

Your legs were burning under the strain of running. After being bed bound for most of your time with your captor, you had barely done anything that was remotely as active as this. You were sure your feet were bleeding, they felt numb and slippery. The adrenaline pumping through your veins masked your pain as you pushed yourself harder. It was dark and hard to see, numerous branches had already snagged your clothing and whacked you. You really were at a disadvantage, weren’t you?

At this point, you had no doubt Jungkook would catch you. He was stronger and faster than you, you were completely outmatched in terms of endurance. You pumped your legs faster and harder, running down a slope of rocks and leaves that almost sent you tumbling. With a wheeze, you whipped around another tree and crouched down behind it and the large rocks that surrounded it. If you couldn’t outrun him, maybe you could hide from him.

You heard him come to a halt moments later as he heard your steps cease. You quickly slapped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your deep panting breaths. You could make out his head and shoulders from where you hid, he was spinning on his heels as he scanned the area around him. It was dark as the trees covered the light of the moon. Hopefully, this would make it harder for him to find you.

“(Y/N)?!” He called, his chest rising and falling rapidly with quick breaths. “Baby, I’m not playing around. You better come out right now if you know what’s good for you.”

He was fuming, it was so obvious. You could vaguely make out his tense jaw and the bulging veins in his neck. His head continued to swivel from side to side as he tried to find you in the dark.

“If you come out right now, your punishment won’t be that bad.” He spoke again, pacing back and forth as he continued to search for you. “You really disappointed me, I thought you were my good girl again. I’ve been so good to you but you keep testing me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut as panicked tears sprung forth. For someone who claimed to be in love with you, he was so good at making you cry. Your nails dug into the bark of the tree as you pressed your forehead to its trunk. He was going to find you, you never stood a chance.

“First, you take my affection for granted. Then, you question my love for you and accuse me of mistreating you. And then you throw my mother away from you like trash. We were doing so well but you just had to stop behaving.” He said with a distressed sigh as his footsteps grew nearer. Your body stilled like a deer in headlights, this was so familiar. And all at once, you were taken back to that night.

His light footsteps, the darkness, and the fear.

“All I want is to love you and take care of you, but you don’t see it that way do you?” He questioned, his voice became louder and closer. “I told you before, baby. You and I were meant to be together, from the moment I saw you I knew you were mine.”

His words were beginning to sound fuzzy as your ears rang. You had worked yourself up so much it seemed like even your own body couldn’t take it anymore. You felt sick and lethargic, and you knew it would only be a matter of seconds before he found you. Because no matter what, he would always find you.

A pair of hands latched onto your shoulders and yanked you out of your hiding spot. Game over. Jungkook turned you around violently and pinned you to the tree trunk. His eyes were so dark you couldn’t discern his iris from his pupil. He was good at making you cry, and you were good at pissing him off.

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” He yelled, shaking you by the shoulders. “I let go of you for ten seconds and you run away?!”

Your eyes snapped shut as he screamed as you, his grip tight and bruising.

“Open your eyes, right now.” He growled, his voice low and stern. “Look at me when I’m talking to you.” He continued.

Out of fear, you opened them and met his dark gaze with your own. His jaw was clenched tight as he looked at you, he was doing his very best to show you how displeased he was. It was still jarring how easy it was for him to slip between the roles of a love sick puppy and an enraged kidnapper.

“We are going home,” He said, his voice steady and deep. “You are going to apologize to my mother and father for your behavior and wait in your room for me. You are not eating tonight, not after the way you acted. Am I clear?”

You nodded so fast it looked like your head would snap right off of your neck.

“I said, am I clear?” He repeated, staring down at you.

“Yes.” You replied, your voice soft with fear but loud enough for him not to ask you to repeat yourself.

He released a soft sigh as a barely there smile graced his lips. He loved your compliance.

“You know I don’t like scaring you, baby.” He cooed, the anger slowly dissipating as he pulled you into his embrace. “But I have to when you act like this, and you know I’m going to have to punish you.”

And with that, the dam broke. Ugly sobs broke free from your chest as the tears came flooding back. You were such a mess, such a crybaby that couldn’t do anything right. You could only hope that your tears would save you from whatever pain he had in store for you.

“Jungkook, please!” You sobbed. “I was - I was scared!”

“I know baby, I know.” He hummed, smoothing your hair as he cradled you to his chest. He lowered his palms to your thighs and scooped you up, carrying you much like a parent would an infant.

“You had a stressful day, didn’t you? But still, I’m really mad at you babygirl and crying won’t solve anything.” He said, he sounded like a parent scolding their child. And much like a child, you clung to him as you wailed. In response he softly hushed you, rubbing your back as he began the walk back to the lake house.

“I’m sorry!” You croaked, burying your face in the juncture of his shoulder and neck as your tears stained his hoodie. And you were sorry, because now there was the high probability he would hurt you for your actions. Maybe if you had waited then you could have found a better way to escape him without getting hurt. But you were panicked, your body thinking for you instead of your brain.

“Such a good little girl,” He sighed, rubbing circles into your back. “Apologizing without me having to tell you. If you keep being my good girl, then we won’t have to fight anymore.”

You nodded your head rapidly, spurring light laughs from his throat. If behaving bought you time and saved your life, then you would do it. Just until you could find a way out of this, if there was a way out of this.

“Are you - are you gonna hurt me?” You sniffled, your eyes clenched shut as you hid yourself from his gaze.

“Baby, I promised you I would never hurt you again. That night…that was a one time thing. You know that, right? You know I would never hurt you?” He asked, his voice worried at the prospect that you thought he would hurt you again.

Your silence was enough of an answer.

“Oh no, my poor baby.” He gasped, squeezing you tighter to him. “So that’s why you’ve been acting this way, huh? I was too rough with you, you must still be so confused. I haven’t been very attentive, have I? Don’t worry, sweet girl. We’ll sort this out tonight.”

For the rest of the journey back there was a heavy silence between the two of you. It was accompanied by Jungkook’s soft touches and light kisses in the dark. Your little stunt seemed to only make him more affectionate than he was before, had he deluded himself into thinking this was all his fault? That he hadn’t given you enough attention and that was why you ran from him? Of course, in his mind you would never leave because you didn’t want him. Only because you didn’t have enough of him. The more time you spent with Jungkook, the more you realized how unstable he was. You were never sure what he was thinking, and that was scary. Never knowing what someone was going to do, that uncertainty was fear inducing.

It wasn’t long before the two of you had returned to the porch of the house, the door was still open but the screen door was shut allowing you to see into the hallway that led to the kitchen. You could make out the back of Jungkook’s father and the sweet voice of his mother, singing while the clanking of pots and pans followed. If this were under different circumstances, you would find it sweet.

Jungkook still held you, his chest pressed tightly to your own. His large hands cradled the back of your thighs, you could feel his thumbs lightly swiping the expanse of flesh. He dropped his head into the crook of your neck and took a deep breath before planting a soft kiss to the smooth column of your throat. It took everything in you to hold back the shudder that wanted to shake your body.

“You remember what I asked you to do for me babygirl?” He murmured, pulling back to look you in your eyes. The anger that had previously clouded them was no longer there, his soft gaze had returned once more. You gave him a quick nod and he smiled, carrying you back into your prison. His steps echoed down the hallway causing the singing to cease and his father to turn in his chair. Once more, he fixed you with that stern look that scared you shitless. Although this time it was far more intense and utterly annoyed.

“Go ahead.” Jungkook whispered, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear. Already, this was completely humiliating. Not only did you have to apologize for trying to escape your kidnapper, but you had to do it while he cradled you like a child.

With your eyes trained to the floor, you began. “I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused. It won’t happen again.”

Mrs. Jeon smiled again, her hands clasped together as she cooed at the sight of her son holding his “girlfriend” as she liked to say. “It’s alright sweetie, trust me, I’ve been there.” she giggled.

Her words were meant to comfort you, instead they deeply disturbed you. The way she so casually referred to her kidnapping was disgusting. She talked about it like it was something normal that everyone went through, like it wasn’t a horrific crime. She was brainwashed, so many years of being with her captor had turned her into a compliant doll. She was everything you feared and everything you desperately hoped to avoid. But once she was like you. How many times had she tried to run before she realized it was impossible to get away from him. How many nights had she spent crying over the life she had lost, missing her parents, her friends, and her family? When did she realize that her life was over? There was no saving her, and soon there would be no saving you.

“(Y/N),” Mr. Jeon spoke, his voice threatening. “Don’t do it again.”

You could tell that his words had a double meaning: Don’t run away again and don’t touch my wife like that again. You gave him a swift nod as your grip on Jungkook tightened. At that moment, he was the most familiar thing to you. And you could tell he was enjoying it.

“Son, we need to have a talk.” He continued, fixing his stern gaze onto Jungkook who stiffened in response.

With that, Jungkook swiftly turned and began to carry you away from the kitchen. He moved quickly as he squeezed you to him tighter than before. He seemed nervous, like he knew what his father wanted to talk about. You had never seen Jungkook look nervous. Angry, distressed, remorseful, but never nervous. He threw the door to your bedroom open and gently set you down on your frilly comforter. His hands came up to cradle your face once more before he leaned down and softly pecked your lips, a soft sigh breaking free from his chest.

“I need you to stay right here, okay? I’ll be back soon, we have some things to discuss.” He reminded you, pressing another soft kiss to your lips before standing and exiting your room, the door shutting behind him and the lock twisting shut.

Your heart hammered in your chest, what did his father want to talk to him about? What would Jungkook discuss with you? How bad was your “punishment” going to be? There were so many unknowns spinning around in your head. You really were a mess, weren’t you? You had always thought that you could take care of yourself, and your kidnapping had proven that to be false. You had devolved into this different person you didn’t know. Before, you never cried as much as you did now. Before, you didn’t cower in anyone’s presence. In such a small amount of time, you had already become a shadow of your former self. At the rate you were going, it wouldn’t be long until you were empty and broken.

You were jolted from your thoughts when the screaming started. It was Jungkook’s voice, deeper and louder than you had ever heard it before. You couldn’t make out exactly what he was saying, but whatever his father wanted to tell him had set him off. You shuffled back into the bad, wrapping the comforter around you to provide you some feeling of safety. An angry Jungkook is an unpredictable Jungkook. The low, sweet voice of his mother was trying to cool him down but that was far from working. You could hear him snap at her, Mr. Jeon’s voice rising over all of them in a clear and loud yell. Silence followed. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t good.

A loud crash shattered the silence that had heavily hung in the still air. Your body jumped in response and tensed in preparation for more noise to follow, but there was none. A beat of silence passed before you heard the tell tale steps of Jungkook’s boots stomping down the hallway. In seconds the door to your bedroom was flung open and slammed shut behind him so hard the frame shook.

Jungkook’s body was shaking in rage as he paced the open space at the foot of the bed. He was so caught up in his anger it seemed like he didn’t even notice you were there anymore. That was of course, until he did. His head snapped up and his stare met yours, without a word he cleared the footboard of the bed and pinned you to the mattress. On impact, your eyes snapped shut. His hands gripped your thighs and yanked you closer to him, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist as he buried his face in your shoulder. He was softly mumbling to himself as he nuzzled the fabric of your sweatshirt, the lightest of tears staining your top. He was crying?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He choked out, his body shaking as he held you close to him. “Just because Dad did it that way doesn’t mean I have to.”

You were frozen beneath him, unsure of what to do. Jungkook was clinging to you like a toddler to their parent, babbling nonsense as he tried his hardest to stop crying. Each time you thought you knew him, he proved you wrong. Jungkook chose several personas in your presence, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. You were scared of him because you could never tell which version of him you were going to get.

“He said I might be wrong, that maybe you aren’t mine. But he’s wrong, I know it! We’re meant for each other, I love you and no one can take you away from me. Not even him. He told me I need to be harsher with you, I need to hurt you so you understand.”

So that was how he did it. Jungkook’s father trained his mother with pain. He hurt her and would only stop in exchange for her obedience. No wonder she seemed so compliant, so in love with him. He had trained her like a dog, she associated him with pain and love simultaneously.

Jungkook pulled back from you, resting his weight on his forearms to take in your face. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were red from crying. He really did look pitiful, if anything he looked like you since you spent most of your captivity in anxiety and bouts of intense crying. He slowly raised his hand to your face and lightly stroked the flesh of your cheek. If you didn’t know any better, he would look like a man that was in love with you. But you did know better, he was just a boy in a man’s body who had been raised to think this was normal. And for a moment, you genuinely felt bad for him. For a moment, you thought you understood him.

“I won’t have to hurt you if you listen to me. I still have to punish you, but if you’re good then I don’t have to hurt you.” He whispered, sniffing sharply as he leaned back to wipe the tears from his face.

Your legs were still tensed around his waist as he dragged you up to his chest, pressing the two of you so close together that you could feel his heart beating. He scooted backwards off the bed and carried you back to the bathroom. This was beginning to feel like your first day with him all over again. He set you gently onto the counter and pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before kneeling down on the cold tile. His fingers delicately lifted your right foot to allow him to inspect the damage you had inflicted. His face contorted with wince as he looked at your foot, silently lifting the other one to inspect it as well.

“I hate seeing you like this, in pain.” He sighed, his fingers gently stroking the delicate bones of your ankle as he looked up at you from in between your legs. Your face flushed at the sight causing you to tilt your head back against the mirror behind you. Anything was better than the position you were in right now. Jungkook cooed at the light blush that dusted your cheeks as he began to work on the wounds that littered the once smooth skin of your feet, always stopping when you would flinch or cry out from the pain. Sometimes, he could be considerate. But you didn’t want to think positively of him and you most definitely didn’t want to feel sorry for him. You didn’t want to feel anything for him. You found yourself having to remember that he was a monster, even if it wasn’t his fault he was still a monster.

A soft kiss pressed to the inside of your ankle forced you to look at him once more, a sweet smile graced his lips. The one that made him look like an innocent bunny.

“All done.” He smiled, rising up in between your legs to trap you to the counter. Jungkook always found a way to remind you of your inability to escape him, the amount of times he had pinned you today was outstanding and concerning. You really were fucked.

The sweet smile slowly slipped from his lips as his eyes flicked down to your lips. His eyes were dark again, half lidded in a daze as he looked at you. You weren’t stupid, you knew what he wanted. He swallowed harshly and leaned closer to you, cupping one side of your face as he softly stroked your bottom lip with his thumb. You could feel his hands trembling as he took in a shaky breath. He acted like you were a drug that he could never get enough of, each hit he got sending him into a deeper addiction that he craved. And God, did he want you. He wanted all of you, everything you had to offer, and more. He took another breath and leaned in, attempting to kiss you. You quickly turned your head away from him, his soft lips connecting with the smooth skin of your cheek. Instead of getting mad, he pressed another kiss to your cheek, the corner of your mouth, and gently peppered butterfly kisses to the curve of your jaw. In a panic, you jerked away from his touch only to press yourself tightly to the mirror behind you.

“I think,” He began, stopping to clear his throat. “I think I know what your punishment is going to be.”

Your heart jerked in response as his hands gripped the tops of your thighs. You had hoped maybe it wouldn’t come to this, that he had been bluffing this whole time. But if his father was so keen on punishment in his household, it only made sense he would want his son to follow in his footsteps. He had done it first, and he knew what “worked.”

“You can’t say no to me, baby. For ten days, you have to do what I want. Just for ten days.” He said, his tone gentle but you knew this wasn’t a request; it was a demand. You quickly shook your head from side to side, grasping his wrists and attempting to pull them off of you so that you could curl into yourself.

“Baby, baby! Listen to me!” He cried, catching your hands with his own while trying to meet your eyes. “You either do this for me, or I’ll have to hurt you. You know I don’t want to do that, but if I have to do it then I will. If my dad sees that you're non compliant, that you’re not being my good girl, he will try and get rid of you.”

You stilled at his words. So that’s why he had been crying so hard earlier. His father had given him an ultimatum. Jungkook had to hurt you if you misbehaved to “train” you, as his father had put it. If he didn’t see your compliance, then he would get rid of you. He would kill you for trying to free yourself.

“Jungkook…I can’t. I can’t do that. I just want to go home.” You replied, your voice weakening into a whimper as the tears rushed forth once more.

“I know this is hard for you baby, I know you need more time but I can’t keep waiting. Not with them here. Soon enough you’ll realize you are home, all you’ll need is me.” He whispered to you. And just like that all of your sympathy for him flew right out the window. At the end of the day, Jeon Jungkook was selfish. He took his father’s warning as a way to get what he wanted: you no longer being able to deny him. Jungkook is a monster, the perfect example of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Those big, brown, doe eyes of his were concealing a dark force that was restless inside of him. That sweet smile of his hid the fangs and wrath harbored in him. He was something from your nightmares, hidden by a boyish face and a deceiving innocence. You never hated anyone as much as you hated Jeon Jungkook.

“Tonight counts as day one, you only have nine more days to go sweetheart.” He smiled, rubbing the tops of your thighs is what would have been a comforting manner if you didn’t detest his touch so much.

“Come on, you’re sleeping in my bed tonight.” He informed you, scooping your body up once more as to not have you walk on your injured feet. Not only did you have no choice but to listen to him, but now you had lost your mobility for the time being. Your teeth sunk into your lower lip, stopping yourself from snapping at him. Time had proven before that you could break, and if you broke this time it could have deadly consequences.

Would it be better to let yourself die? Would you rather live a life of captivity over the freedom that the dark embrace of death had to offer? No. You were many things, but unafraid of death was not one of them. If you were, then you would have forced Jungkook’s hand or his father’s a long time ago.

Jungkook set you down on the covers of his bed, rifling through his drawers to find something for you to wear to bed. He came back to you with a large white T-shirt in hand, something you had seen him wear many times. There was no doubt in your body that he was thrilled with this situation. Not only did he have you in his bed, but he would have you in his clothes. Jungkook sat down beside you once more, silently helping you out of your clothes. You still flinched from his touch, but tried your best not to say anything. The less you struggled, the faster you would be clothed and less vulnerable. To Jungkook’s credit, he tried his best not to openly ogle your semi naked form. His gaze still lingered, his eyes still looked you over, but he clothed you and that was that.

Once he had finished, he leaned back into the bed and kicked his boots off. He turned to look at you for another moment, taking in your body covered by his sheets. He swallowed harshly before turning away from you and opening the drawer of his nightstand. Once he faced you again you noticed the glinting metal in his hand. Handcuffs. Part of you shuddered at the thought that he kept those by his bed, the other part of you tried your best not to freak the fuck out.

“I can’t trust that you won’t try and leave while I’m sleeping.” He explained. “I don’t want to have to do this, but I need to.”

“I won’t leave.” Lie. “It’s going to be hard for me to sleep handcuffed to the bed, I learned my lesson. I won’t run.” You had tried your best to seem like you weren’t denying him, the word “no” had never passed your lips.

“It’s okay, I won’t cuff you to the headboard.” He answered, slapping the cuff to your right wrist and the other cuff to his as well. What the fuck. He leaned away from you to turn the lamp off, plunging the room into darkness. For a moment, you couldn’t see. But you could feel him. Jungkook peeled the sheets back and slid underneath them behind you, slinging his cuffed arm over your waist and pulling you back against his chest.

Motherfucker.

“Jungkook-”

“Go to sleep, baby.” He cut you off, tensing his arm in warning as he rested his chin on the top of your head. You barely slept that night.

You woke up by being blasted from the light filtering through the window. He had left the curtains open last night. And not to mention, you were extremely uncomfortable. You were hot as hell having Jungkook wrapped around you like a giant koala, your wrist was chaffed from the metal cuffs, you had a headache from the bright light, and something was pressing hard into your lower back. You huffed in annoyance, trying to shift away from the man behind you only to still when a groan shook his chest.

Oh. Something hard was pressed to your lower back.

You shivered in disgust, rolling awkwardly to unwind his arm from around you so that you could get away from his…situation.

A sharp knock on the door made you jump while simultaneously waking up your captor. “Jungkook? (Y/N)? I made breakfast! Come out before it’s cold!”

Jungkook groaned again, slinging his arm over his eyes at the sound of his mother’s voice. He took a deep breath before sitting up and retrieving the key to the cuffs, swiftly unlocking it and separating the two of you. You hastily stood up, putting as much distance between the two of you as you could. Jungkook still remained in his bed, eyeing you as he titled his head back. You felt shivers run down your spine from the look he was giving you. You had no doubt you knew exactly what he was thinking about.

“Jungkook!” Mrs. Jeon yelled again from the other side of the door, her swift knocks returning once more. Her impatience knew no bounds as she finally gave up and swung the door open. It was quite a sight to see, such a small woman looking so angry. Jungkook actually looked scared for a moment.

“Jungkook, I said breakfast is ready and getting cold! Don’t ignore your mother!” She scolded him, waving a spatula around as she yelled at him. This sight was just too normal, it was so strange to think that you were kidnapped. Never in a million years did you ever think you would see your captor’s mother yelling at him like he was still a child.

Jungkook sighed, trying his best not to lash out at his mother lest his father hear their exchange. “You waited all of ten seconds, mom.”

“That doesn’t matter! I shouldn’t have to wait!” She replied before taking a hold of your elbow and tugging you towards the hallway. “Now, are you coming or will you make your mother wait longer?”

“I’ll uh, I’ll be out in a few minutes.” He answered awkwardly.

“Fine, suit yourself.” She huffed before dragging you out of the bedroom and walking you in the direction of the kitchen. But not before you saw Jungkook mouth, “behave” with that stern look returning to his face. Right, it was day two.

“It’s time for some girl talk!” She beamed, ushering you into a seat where a plate of food awaited. “So, tell me. How did you and my son meet?”

She couldn’t be serious. This had to be some twisted joke, right? The look on her face spoke volumes, she was genuinely curious with a smile so similar to her sons spreading over her face. You wanted so badly to scream in her face that he fucking kidnapped you, that you barely knew him when the two of you were in the same classes. You took a deep breath in an attempt to calm yourself. No matter how badly you wanted to scream and cry, you couldn’t. The threat of Jungkook’s father was still near, if you didn’t behave he had no qualms about “getting rid” of you.

“Uh, we met in high school.” You answered, poking at your food and refusing to make eye contact with her.

“High school sweethearts! How cute, that’s just like me and my husband!” She gushed. She was just as deluded as the rest of them.

Your silence caused her lips to turn downward, the smile slipping off of her face. A look of understanding crossed over her eyes as she gently reached across the table to cradle your hand in her own.

“I understand how hard it is at first.” She said, your head snapped up to look at her. This was the first time she didn’t seem bubbly and in love. “I ran too, you know. It’s overwhelming, becoming a part of their world and learning that way they love. My husband was strict with me, but he had to be for the sake of our relationship.”

And just like that, your hope died again. She thought she was in love with him, that he did all he did because they were meant to be together. She was like you once, and she had lost the fight. Your eyes dropped to her hands that held your own. To your horror, you noticed the deep scars littering her wrists and palms. On the inside of her wrist was the most prominent scar, a large J carved into her skin. If her hands were that scarred, what was she hiding underneath her shirt and pants? Was her whole body subjected to the torture that her husband called love? He had conditioned her with pain, he had made her into what he wanted her to be.

“Baby?” Jungkook called, walking into the kitchen with a worried look on his face as he took in your stiff posture and disturbed expression. He came to your side immediately and settled his arm on the back of your chair, his eyes scanning over you to make sure you were okay.

“Are you feeling sick, sweetheart?” He asked, pressing his lips to your forehead making his mother smile at the display of affection.

You shook your head and stopped yourself from flinching away. After all, you couldn’t say no to him.

The days began to pass quicker after the incident with Jungkook’s mother. You had learned his parents would be staying in the guest house to give the two of you space while also keeping an eye on you. You could feel yourself spiraling in the aftermath of everything that had happened. The only thing that was keeping you from lashing out again was the hard glare Jungkook’s father constantly had trained on you. Not to mention, your compliance was the only thing preventing Jungkook from hurting you the same way his father had his mother.

Each day proved to be more straining than the day before. Jungkook would push for more from you, he would start with small things and gradually work his way up to what he really wanted. And it was exhausting. You never stood a chance against him. He was a monster that had disguised himself so skillfully that even you didn’t see what he was doing when this started.

Day 3: You weren’t allowed to sleep in “your” room anymore. His excuse was that his dad wouldn’t approve of leaving you alone. But you knew that was a lie, he just wanted to have you to himself for as long as he could. He took your privacy from you, the one thing you had been allowed to have.

Day 4: You spent the day together watching movies. You weren’t allowed to leave his hold the entire time. You weren’t allowed to deny his touch no matter how much you wanted to jump out of his arms and make a run for it for the second time. He held you the entire day and it felt so suffocating.

Day 5: You weren’t allowed to see his mom anymore. You were only allowed to talk to him, you could only spend time with him. You felt like you were going crazy being with just him again. Sure, his mother was completely brainwashed but still she was someone that wasn’t him.

Day 6: You weren’t allowed to dress yourself anymore. You hadn’t objected, but you did try and tell him that you could do it yourself, that you were an adult. But of course, you weren’t allowed to deny him. If you did, then he could hurt you. If you did, his father could kill you. What other choice did you have? How could you fight back when there was nothing protecting you except your captor’s empty promises? You hated the feeling of his hands on your body, skimming over your exposed flesh as he would change your clothes.

Day 7: You couldn’t deny his affection no matter how much you wanted to. You had found yourself pressed into the couch cushions, one of his hands woven through your hair as the other stroked your waist, his lips locked tightly to your own.

“Kiss me back.” He had whined into your mouth, harsh pants of air bursting over your lips. And reluctantly you did, because what else were you going to do? You had no other choice, there was no escape. Not while both of his parents were here. You had foolishly hoped that you could last ten days with him. That your punishment would end and you could regain what little freedoms he had given you before.

Day 8: You couldn’t sleep, not while he was doing what he was behind you. You had kept your eyes clenched tightly shut but you could still hear what he was doing, you could feel his breaths hitting the back of your neck as soft moans burst from his throat. His one hand gripping your hip tightly as he worked himself up, moaning your name desperately as you pretended to sleep.

You were disgusted, but you knew it would be better to pretend you were unaware than to snap at him.

Day 9: That night, he told you he wanted to bathe you. He wanted to cross the one hard line you gave him, and you were breaking ever so slowly. You didn’t flinch when he stripped you of your clothes or when he cradled your bare body to his chest, settling you into the tub. His eyes were hooded in lust, his gaze and hands straying as he washed you. This was what he wanted, full dependence and utter compliance. All you could do was close your eyes and pretend he was someone else, that you were anywhere but there.

Day 10: He wanted you. That was his “final” punishment. He had you laid out in the center of his bed, his hands running over every part of you he could touch while his lips marred the column of your throat. He was breathing heavily, raising himself up to kiss you as he reached down to pull your shirt up, only disconnecting from you to rip the fabric from your torso. He let out a deep groan, even though it was nothing he hadn’t already seen the night before. He frantically gripped the waistband of your pants and yanked them off to reveal more of your skin.

“My pretty, good, little girl.” He cooed, stroking your hips before his fingers curled into the fabric of your underwear, attempting to pull them away.

A sudden clarity overcame you and you couldn’t hold yourself back any longer. Your hands snapped down to his wrists and held them tight, trying your hardest to fix him with a glare you didn’t know you were capable of.

“No.” You bit out, your nails sinking into the skin of his wrists.

“No?” He laughed, that dark look returning to his handsome face. “Don’t you remember, baby? You can’t say no.”

There he was, the monster that you knew had been hiding behind that sweet face. Jungkook had several personas, the domineering kidnapper, the dotting boyfriend, and the whiny child. This was the one you had been waiting to see, the one that had violently slammed your head into the hood of your car that night. The one that had drugged you and zip tied you in the back of his car. He was always there, just sitting beneath the surface waiting to come and get you.

But you were tired, so fucking tired of being scared all the time. You took a deep breath and squared your shoulders, fixing him with the darkest glare you could manage. This wouldn’t go his way, no matter how much he thought he was winning, no matter how he played you like a Puppeteer controlling his helpless marionette. And with conviction you bit out that one word you had agreed not to say.

“No.”

[adamsbackpack]

Something that makes sense in dream logic...

But a continuation of this, maybe like somehow Bryde somehow finds Declan’s apartment where Jordan is as well and Declan finds a slightly unhinged Bryde carrying in an unconscious sickly looking Ronan and he’s slowly starting to turn into a tree, like the one he was trapped in during the dream? So he’s growing leaves and vines from his fingers, his skin is turning to wood

Idk the dream ley energy from the forests that Ronan dreamt are decaying and slowly releasing the ‘ dream energy’ back into him idk and slowly Ronan wakes up in Declan’s bed half conscious and out of it and slurring works and Ronan rasps that he’s sorry he was such a bad brother and made Declan hate him and obv Declan said he never hated him and Declan’s just a big mess of asshole Declan emotions cuz for all he knows his younger brother is dying in front of him and just a lot of Declan worrying about Ronan and yelling at bryde for what he’s done

And maybe they try the sweetmetal and when they put it next to Ronan he gains some color back slightly and Declan (and jordan) and watching over him In worry wondering what to do

So just can you make it longer if you can, than the last one? Mostly Declan’s POV with a little bit of Ronan’s, even though he’s unconscious/ dying/ turning into a magical dying tree?

Had it not been for the jarring silence in the room, Declan wouldn’t have heard the lumbering steps coming from the stairwell outside his door. Had it not been for the silence, he wouldn’t have had that sinking feeling he gets when he just knows that one of his brothers is fucked. He wouldn’t have cleared the mugs of coffee off of the marble counter of the island in his cramped kitchen. He wouldn’t have sent Jordan to the door to look through the peep hole, making sure there were no straggling moderators coming to slit their throats.

Thankfully, a heavy blanket of quiet had settled itself over the apartment, which allowed enough time for Declan to manage all of these things before Jordan opened the door to reveal his dying brother.

“Help me,” growled the tall, bird like man that had Ronan cradled in his arms. Ah, thought Declan. So this must be the infamous Bryde.

Jordan gripped Ronan’s ankles while Bryde struggled to haul the rest of him by his underarms. Had the situation not been so gruesome, Declan might have been laughing. Well, maybe he would have smirked (Declan really didn’t laugh all that often). But to watch his foolish little brother being dragged through his apartment door seemed like the perfect moment for those four glorious words that Ronan hated so much: I told you so.

But Declan wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smirking. Because the situation was gruesome.

Nightwash spilled from between his brother’s cracked lips, leaking from his nose and ear canals and soaking the living room carpet as Jordan and Bryde carried him into the kitchen, where they draped his body across the cleared marble countertop. Dark shadows clung to his eyes, looking more and more like bruises the longer Declan looked at them until he wasn’t even sure that they weren’t. His hair, which was normally buzzed to the scalp, had begun to grow out softly from Ronan’s days spent on the road, hopping from city to city with Hennessy and Bryde. Stubble grazed his jaw, and Declan was struck in that moment by just how much Ronan looked like Niall.

But Nightwash and exhaustion were the least of his worries.

From Ronan’s fingertips, branches were stretching out towards the kitchen windows. Thick leaves sprouted on stems that shot out from the startlingly green veins in his wrists, covering the smattering of scars from nightmares of the past. Tree bark crept up his throat, leaving Ronan’s neck stiff and confined. When he started choking, Jordan tugged on his bottom lip to find a soggy bunch of wildflowers crawling out from his windpipe.

“What the hell is going on here,” Declan demanded, gripping Bryde by the collar as Jordan helped Ronan to sit up as he vomited oily black clumps of moss. Bryde, looking a little worse for wear with black liquid strewn across the front of his shirt, snarled at Declan as he tore himself away from his grip.

“You think I would have come here if I knew?” The way in which the question was spat assured Declan that he knew the answer. “I think… I think it’s Lindenmere.”

“Okay,” Declan said dangerously, “then why don’t you tell me why the fuck Lindenmere is growing inside my brother?”

Bryde’s eyes glowed. “I’m sorry, did you miss the Ley Lines going down? Thanks to your girl-“ Bryde threw an accusatory finger at Jordan, who gave him her angriest finger in return, “-Lindenmere can’t exist. It’s returning to its dreamer because it has nowhere else to go. This is its way of falling asleep, just like the rest of his dreams.”

Declan swiped his hand over his face, silently praying that when he opened his eyes, all of this will have just been a stress-induced hallucination. No such luck.

“Declan,” Jordan said, “I don’t- what do we do?”

Declan contemplated this. They couldn’t exactly go to the hospital - what were regular doctors and nurses supposed to do against an illness such as this. Where would they even begin? And it’s not like Bryde could dream up a remedy with the Ley Lines down.

A sharp groan coming from the countertop brought Declan back to himself. Ronan’s body was convulsing with every movement of the branches engulfing his flesh. He tried to speak around the garden that had inhabited his mouth but to no avail. Declan placed his hand on Ronan’s forehead and rubbed his thumb softly against his temple the way Aurora used to do when they were sick. “Hey, Ronan,” Declan said softly, and was struck by the tightness in his throat and the stinging in his eyes. “You’ve really gotten yourself fucked this time, haven’t you?” Though his body still shook violently and the wildflowers muffled his voice, Declan swore he heard his brother attempt a laugh. Ronan’s hand shot up and squeezed Declan’s tightly, a pulsing grip in time with his body tremors. “It’s okay, Ronan. It’ll be okay, just try and breathe.” Declan watched as his brother’s chest shook with the effort to take in a measured breath.

Ronan let go of Declan’s hand, only to tap at his palm until it lay flat. He traced the letter ‘M’ on his skin. Matthew.

Was it better to tell Ronan he was fine, just to alleviate some of his stress? Should he tell him the truth of the matter, which was that the youngest Lynch brother was currently unconscious in his bedroom, as he had been for the past several days?

Declan settled on a half-truth.

“He went to sign himself up for high school in DC the other day. Isn’t that great? He had a meeting with the guidance councillor to register and select his courses. He was really excited about auto class, so he can help you fix the car with Adam the next time you crash it.” Declan rambled on, side-stepping the truth and instead offering the pleasantness of Matthew being happy. Ronan was too exhausted to demand a real answer, so he drank in his brother’s distractions eagerly. At the mention of Adam, though, Ronan tensed and glanced up at Jordan, who nodded in understanding and left to call him from Declan’s landline.

“He’s not getting better,” Bryde said impatiently. The young man had been so quiet up until that point that Declan almost forgot he was there. Almost. “I… I’m sorry. I don’t know what else to try.” Well, that wasn’t good. Bryde apologizing was decidedly not good.

A blood-curdling scream erupted from Ronan so suddenly that Declan had to take a moment for his heart to start beating at a normal pace again. Through Ronan’s t-shirt - which was now soaked with a mixture of blood and nightwash - burst forth five branches, flaking with rough bark and moss. Jordan rushed in from the living room, hand held over the speaker of the phone in a futile attempt to block Ronan’s cries from Adam’s ear. “Shit,” she breathed. “Adam, hun, let me call you back.” She silenced Adam’s muffled protests with one tap to the phone.

Declan gave a shake of his head before pointing to the cupboard beside the sink. “Get me towels, as many towels as you can,” he said sharply. Bryde and Jordan came back seconds later with armfuls of soft cotton dishtowels. Snatching them from their grasps, Declan began wrapping the towels around the base of the branches until most of the blood was sopped up. Just as he stepped back to observe his work, his cell phone began to tremble in his pocket. “Son of a bitch.” Unknown number. Maybe it’s Hennessy.

He answered it.

“What.” It came out more as a demand than a question.

“Listen to me carefully, Declan. I can help you,” said Niall Lynch.

***TBC***

[abluescarfonwaston]

Did someone ask for a quick and angsty immortal jaskier prompt? "It was supposed to be the music," he whispered, voice breaking. Heart breaking. "The songs. I wanted my songs to be remembered forever. I never wanted this."

Why would you do this to me anon. i’m already crying over the fact dandelion outlives everyone he loves. Major Character Death Warning. Obviously. Literally everyone dies. Uuuh also this kinda turns into Lambert/Jaskier at the end but like. They’re both Centuries old so nothing Happens.

When the wasting sickness swept through Lettenhove it killed his Mother and his Father and his Sisters and left him untouched. 

He was ten and the world was over. Except he kept waking up in the morning.

At thirteen a girl at Oxenfurt, Essi Daven, played her Lute in the commons and sang and had the most beautiful cornflower blue eyes. And for the first time in years he sang a duet with her and suddenly he was a bard and he had a little sister again. 

Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it finally restart.

At seventeen he met a man with white hair and seemly as many scars on his body as his heart and fell in love. Because Bards fell in love easily and he was impossibly easy to love.

The witcher plead for his life. Plead for them to let the bard go.

“No. Both of us or neither.” He was done outliving those he loved. At seventeen he was already done with that. “You kill him and let me go and i’ll destroy your mountain. Kill every last one of you in revenge.”

He’d leave behind a song. The one he’d written as a child and had swept the town more devastating than even the scarlet fever had been. It would live on past him. He would be remembered. The people he loved would be too. Toss a coin to your Witcher. The people he loved immortalized in song.

It wasn’t supposed to make him immortal.

“Give it a rest Jaskier.” Danity snapped. “It’s not you that has to be afraid of anything. No one ever touches a troubadour. For unfathomable reasons you’re inviolable.”

He’d still feared then. Chappelle could have had him killed. He was pretty sure he could die. Mostly he feared the pain. Or dying alone.

“When an old woman gets tired of life she walks into the woods without a weapon. The results are guaranteed.” He’d told Geralt when he’d moaned about how the world was changing and -more importantly- that he had no work.

Remember how I don’t even carry a knife when I follow you out on an adventure? No weapons at all. Ever. Just me and my lute.

He’d brushed death. A thousand times he’d almost met her. He followed Geralt- who was prophesied to always have death follow after him. You’d think at some point they’d meet.

Essi and Geralt fell in love on the coast. He wrote a ballad for them. About how their love was so powerful not even death could come between them.

He never played it. Not to anyone. He didn’t think it was actually about Essi and Geralt.

When rash appeared on Essi’s face in Vizima during the quarantine his hands shook.

“Not her.” He’d screamed at the gods. They didn’t exist of course. If they had then they’d abandoned them all long ago. “Not her.”

“Jaskier?” She shivered violently. “I don’t want to be burned.”

“You won’t be. You’re going to be fine.” He promised. Clutching her hand. “Promise Poppet. You’re going to be fine.”

The cremation fires blazed outside.

“I want to be buried in the woods. With my lute and-” She hurled mostly into the bucket. “My necklace. Please Jaskier.”

“Course Poppet. When you’re old and grey I will bury you out in the forest.”

“Thank you.” She clutched the little pearl. “For giving me him. I love him.”

“I never saw him happier than when he was with you Poppet.”

“What about when he was with you?”

“Oh come now.” He shifted her in his arms and moved the bucket a little further away. “You know me. I’m insufferable.”

“I love you Jaskier.” She cried as she shivered with less and less energy.

“I love you too Poppet.”

He carried her from the city. Into the forest. Her heart stopped beating before they arrived. He dug her grave and buried her with her lute and her pearl necklace.

With the pearl he’d given to her as a birthday gift. From him and Geralt.

When Regis passed it felt absurd. Humans weren’t supposed to outlive goddamn vampires in their fifth fucking century.

And then there was Geralt. Died in Yennefer’s arms along with her.

“It was supposed to be me.” He told no one as Ciri led their bodies out to the lake. “I was supposed to die with him.” Love so great not even death can part us.

But the story was never really about him was it?

Nenneke had a garden full of plants that grew under a crystal skylight. They didn’t grow anywhere else in the world anymore.

He’d asked Geralt about it. She’d said something about the sun and how it was changing. Apparently Geralt had asked why they all didn’t live under crystal skylights then, if it was so deadly.

“It’s already too late for us.” She’d said.

She talked liked the world was ending but the world ended all the time. And he still woke up in the morning.

Zoltan’s beard turned grey. He supposed he should have been thankful that Zoltan got to turn grey. It was better than most of the people he’d loved.

“How’s your fucking hair still Gold. You’re supposed to be getting old too!”

“I dye it.” He lied with a roll of the eyes. He’d stopped dying it years ago.

That winter he buried Zoltan too.

Golden eyes stared at him in confusion. “You look just like.” He started. His thin hair was grey. His wolf medallion gleamed in the sunlight that streaked into the bar.

“You’re one of the last Witchers i think.” He told him as the waves crashed outside. “Might even be the last.”

“Fucking hope so.” He sat down across from him and stole his beer. “Shitty job and a shitty life.” He squinted at him- which Jaskier knew was entirely unnecessary. He just forgotten to adjust his eyes. “What’s your name bard?”

“Dandelion.” He answered. It had been for the last century. “Yours?”

“Lambert.” He downed the drink. “You really think i’m the last? That worth a song? One of my brothers had a lot of songs.”

“Yes I suppose he did.” He waved for another drink. “And look what it got him.”

“Died surrounded by people who loved him.”

“Are you sure you know what a pogrom is?”

That got him a sharp toothy grin.

“I could write you a song but-” He was tired of burying people he loved.

“But?”

“I’m cursed you see.” It was definitely a curse these days. “I’ll live until the last of my songs is forgotten. I really don’t need anymore material.”

Lambert leaned forward curiously. “Doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“You don’t think it sounds like a curse?” He sneered. Lambert’s face faltered. “To outlive everyone you love?”

Lambert paused. Thinking. “Write me a song then. Play it just for me. So if my song’s the last we’ll go together.”

“And what’s my payment for this song?”

“Company.” Lambert’s grey eyes glittered. “You look like you need it.”

“Not as much as you. I bet you talk to your horse.”

“Well i know you do pretty boy. Heard you in the stable.”

He leaned back on the bench. “So what’s a Witcher do in a world without monsters?”

He shrugged. “Fish mostly.”

“I can do that. Once almost snagged a catfish the size of you. Got a djinn instead. Very bad deal honestly.”

“You expect me to believe that? I know about Bards and Ballads and how you’re all rotten liars.”

“Don’t forget about fisherman and their tales.”

The boat leaked worse than an old drunkard but it was small enough and the lake calm enough that it didn’t make him sick.

“I could just kill you. Curse probably can’t fix decapitation.” Lambert offered with his stick in the water. He claimed were bombs they could use instead if they got desperate. Or bored.

He smiled and shook his head. “Give it a try.”

Lambert raised an eyebrow but pulled a silver blade from it’s sheath.

His pole reeled and the boat tilted to the side, plunging him and the sword into the water.

He laughed as the attempted to drag the monstrous fish to the boat. Lambert cursed and climbed in. Yanking at the rod until the line snapped and they fell back into the boat in a painful pile. Laughing.

He didn’t remember the last time he’d laughed.

“Sing me a song bard.” Lambert would request from under his floppy sun brimmed hat. “No else up here but me.”

“There’s an entire stone keep on the hill.”

“No ones lived there in centuries. No one can hear you up here but me.”

He frowned at the ruins on the hill. Lambert kicked him.

He grinned and for the first time in decades - sang.

Maybe. Maybe the world hadn’t ended. Maybe it had finally restart.

“What was this place called?” He asked as they wandered through the crumbled ruin, covered in moss and ivy.

“Kaer Morhen.” He said like the words hurt him.

They hurt him too. He laughed.

He laughed some more.

He couldn’t stop laughing until Lambert smacked him hard enough to see stars.

“I never got to come here. Geralt.” He caught the flinch but moved past it. “Never trusted me enough to even let me know which country it was in.”

“So you were his bard.”

He nodded as Lambert kicked a stone apart. “He was right not to tell me of course. But.” It still hurt that his best friend hadn’t trusted him with his home. He’d taken Yennefer here. But not him. Never him.

He didn’t deserve Geralt’s trust. A thief, a liar, a spy, a bard. It still hurt.

“Well a wolf finally took you here. Is it everything you fucking dreamed?”

He took it in. “Nah. It’s rubbish.”

Lambert smirked. “Yeah. At least that hasn’t changed.”

“You’re hairs getting grey bard.”

“What?” He nearly leaped into the water in his haste to look.

Grey strands streaked his beard.

“Thank you.” He cried. “Thank you.”

“Still owe me that song Dandy.”

He wrote Lambert a lot of songs. Performed for an audience of one.

“Are you really okay with the fact no one will ever hear them? I mean what’s the point in being immortalized in song if-”

“Yeah. Didn’t give a shit about the songs.”

“Hey!” He protested. Kicking him where he lounged in front of the fire. “They’re good songs!”

He grunted in fake pain. Wiggled out of range. “Did Geralt ever tell you why he liked having you around?”

“My charming personality I assume.”

Lambert snorted.

He sat down on the floor and poke him. “Don’t fall asleep. Tell me why you think he did.”

“No one tells Witchers bedtime stories.”

“Oh.” Lambert was halfway to sleep already. “Would you like one?”

“Yeah.”

“What you think happens after?” They were huddled together. Old and grey as a storm raged outside. “We die.”

“I gave up on gods when i was a child.”

“So did i.”

“Then.” He paused. Listened to the howl. “Whatever’s next at least neither of us is going alone.”

Lambert squeezed his bony hand. “What’s the chance we see them again?”

“Hm.” He pretended to consider. “Well we’re definitely going to hell so-”

“Like anyone we gave a shit about wouldn’t be.”

“Point.”

He closed his golden eyes. “Hey Dandy.”

“Yeah?”

“Sing me out.”

“It’d be my pleasure.”

And quite singing filled the drafty cabin until the song stopped.

The world ended.

And at long last no one woke up in the morning.

[rhysismydaddy]

Naughty Neighbors pt. 4 (Elriel)

I’m thinking there’s going to be two/three more parts to this. I know it’s longer than what I usually put out, but I did mention it’s a slow burn, so... Idk. I really like it and want to keep writing it. 

DRUNK NOTE: thank god I wrote this earlier because i’m too far gone to do much editing hahah sorry if there’s errors also sorry it’s short

__________________________________________________________

~Elain~

For exactly three horrible seconds of Elain’s life, he doesn’t move. He doesn’t so much as breathe as she stands there, holding him to her, mouth pressed against his. 

It’s absolutely horrifying. 

But then he pulls back just enough to murmur, “Holy fuck, Elain.”

And then he kisses her. 

Walking forward, he presses her against the wall, sheltering her with his body and caging her in. 

She’s quickly becoming addicted to the way his chest is pressed against hers, hard muscle dragging against her now-heavy breasts in a way that makes her pant. 

But that’s nothing compared to the addiction she was forming for how he kissed her. 

It’s deep and heavy and so seductive her knees go a bit weak. He--Azriel--seems to notice and slides a knee in between her legs, which helps keep her upright but does absolutely no favors for the growing ache at the apex of her thighs. 

Gods above.

Elain shoves her hands in his hair to keep him close to her, and his go to her hips, then slide around to her backside, then run across her waist. He’s everywhere, hands and body surveying every inch of her, but his mouth moves consistently slow against hers. 

She feels like he can’t get enough of her, like she's driving him crazy. And she fucking loves it, because she’s never felt like this before. 

Never... been kissed like this before. 

He moves to her neck, then down to the top of her breasts. “Azriel,” she moans. Or maybe begs. 

His head snaps up, eyes meeting hers instantly. His usual honey and moss colored eyes are dark, lined with urgency and desire and maybe just a little crazy. “That’s going to be the fucking death of me.”

Before she can analyze that, they’re kissing again, and Elain can’t stop herself from running her hands over his chest and abs, then pulling him even closer. 

Azriel presses his hips into hers, and she gasps into his mouth, making him smile. She reaches behind her to open the door and take him inside, but he stops her with a hand on her wrist. 

“Elain.”

Still a little breathless, she whispers, “What?”

Taking a healthy step away from her, he shakes his head and says, “We can’t... I’m not going in there.”

“What?” she repeats, beyond confused. She’d thought he’d wanted to... and his body had definitely wanted to...

“I’m not taking you to bed while you belong to another man, Elain.”

“I don’t belong to anyone.”

“Maybe not your body,” he agrees, placing a wide hand on her chest, right above her heart. “But I want this to be mine. And you’re going to give it to me.”

Her mouth is open, probably grazing the floor, but she just stares at him in disbelief. Azriel smiles softly, runs a thumb over her bottom lip, then kisses her cheek. “Goodnight, Elain.”

Then he turns and goes inside his apartment, the door shutting between them with a deafeningly quiet click. 

~Azriel~

Yeah, I’m one dumb motherfucker. 

I had the girl I’d been pathetically pining for finally kissing me, finally admitting she wants me, and I told her I wasn’t going to have sex with her. 

And where does that leave me? With a fucking painful erection and the urge to put my fist through a wall. 

I head straight for the bathroom and turn the shower to the coldest setting possible. But even as the ice water runs over me, my blood continues to thrum. 

Good gods, I want to kiss her again. 

I want to kiss her all the time. 

Her full mouth fits mine perfectly, and the way she kissed me... no cold shower is going to get me to forget that. Not to even mention the way her body felt under my hands, the soft curves practically begging to be touched. 

Shoving my head against the tile, I try to ignore all that. But it doesn’t do an ounce of good, because then I think about the way she said my name. 

It was so natural for her, even though she’d learned it ten minutes before. She’d said it like it was everything to her, like a precious gift she’d never return. 

By the time I cut the shower off and flop in bed, I’m exhausted, so when the phone rings, I ignore it and shut my eyes. But it rings again, and I see that it’s Mor, so I answer. “What?”

“Wow, thank you for that heart-warming greeting,” she teases. “Bad night?”

“No, I’m just-” thinking about Elain and don’t want to talk to you at the moment, “tired.”

Thing about Mor is, she can always tell when I’m lying.

“Something happened! What happened?” 

“She kissed me,” I tell my best friend, smile on my face. 

Mor howls on the other end of the line, making me laugh. “I told you making her jealous would work!”

“Yeah, yeah, you were right. It worked. She wanted to...” Cursing, I cut myself off. She doesn’t need to know everything. 

She, apparently, doesn’t hold that belief. “And did you?” 

“No, we didn’t. I want her... I want her to love me first, Mor.”

She’s quiet for a few moments, but then she says softly, “You really like her, huh?” I stay quiet, but it’s answer enough. “Then make her fall in love with you.”

“Oh, I plan on it,” I chuckle, because it’s true. Now that I know what I’m missing, I don’t want to waste another minute without it. “But I have to be well-rested to trick fair maidens into loving me, so goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too, stupid.”

I hang up and stare at the ceiling, still smiling like an idiot. 

My very helpful brain thinks about Elain on the other side of that wall, lying in bed doing the same thing, thinking about me. 

I tell it to shut up and go to sleep, but the stupid bastard doesn’t listen. 

The last thing I think before finally falling asleep is that I can’t fucking wait to see Elain tomorrow. 

~

Elain doesn’t go to work all week. 

I know because it’s Friday, and I’ve been by the store every single day since Monday. Some girl named Christine has been there, and she gives me a weird look every time she notices me peeking in. 

Honestly, I don’t get it. 

Last time she tried to avoid me, she was embarrassed and knew I’d tease her. This time... I didn’t do anything wrong, right?

Maybe she’s sick. 

Or maybe she just feels guilty. That���s probably it. I haven’t heard the boyfriend come around this week, and she’s not the kind of girl to dump someone over the phone. So maybe she’s waiting until she sees him and ends things to see me. 

The thought makes me smile, drawing a raised eyebrow from the guy I’m currently tattooing. 

“You look like you’re thinking about a girl,” the old biker-looking man remarks with a gruff. I can’t help but grin and shrug and he sighs. “Just don’t fuck up my tattoo.”

I nod and focus, shoving all thoughts of Elain into a small box in the corner of my mind. 

But the damn box won’t stay closed, and by the time I leave work that night, I don’t care if she’s trying to do the right thing and avoid me. I have to see her. 

Even if nothing happens, I have to see her. 

The week’s been boring without her soft smiles and cute little dresses, and I want to hear what she’s been up to, cooped up in that apartment. 

I practically run up the stairs and down the hall to her door, already smiling as I knock. It takes a few minutes for the door to open, but when it does, the smile falls away and takes every last drop of happiness with it. 

She looks awful. 

I mean, she’s always beautiful, but she looks like she hasn’t slept or eaten since I last saw her. Her hairs a dirty mess, she’s in a raggedy sweatshirt and sweatpants, and there’s dark circles under her big brown eyes. 

Eyes that don’t hold an ounce of happiness to see me. “What do you want?”

The question throws me, but I answer honestly. “I wanted to see you. Are you alright?”

Elain doesn’t answer, just stands there for a minute. Then she says, “Leave me alone.”

The door swings towards me, but I jut a hand out and stop it from closing. “What’s wrong? Did I do something?”

Because like Mor’s told me for years, it’s always the man’s fault. Even when it isn’t the man’s fault, it’s the man’s fault. 

Whatever it is, I’ll apologize and smile and tease her until she’s smiling, too.

“Did you do something?” she repeats in a small voice, eyes going a bit misty. 

The sight hits me hard, and I take a step forward, but she shoots out a hand and shoves me back. “Stay the fuck away from me.”

If it wasn’t the unusual curse that stops me dead in my tracks, it’d be the way her voice sounded as she said it. None of the usual warmth, no soft laughter. 

She sounds... she sounds like she hates me. And I can’t take it. “Elain, what the hell did I do?”

~Elain~

Is he serious? What did I do? 

The genuine confusion on his face makes the carefully-crafted dam she’s been building around herself burst. “What was this to you? Some sort of sick game?”

“What are you-”

“You tried your goddamn best to drive me crazy, and like a complete idiot, I let you! How stupid could I have been...” She looks up at the ceiling as if that will give her the strength to face him, to say the words. “To think you wanted me.” 

His eyes go wide, and she lets out a humorless laugh. “Elain-”

But there’s no going back now, and there’s no stopping the words from coming out.

“Oh, save the bullshit. You got what you wanted. You proved I’m a horrible girlfriend and an even worse human being, so just leave me alone.”

Before he can respond, she demands, “And what was that crap about wanting my heart? You’re a pathological liar. It’s just not enough for me to cheat on Lucien with you, is it? You want me to fall in love with you.”

His jaw is tight, hands bunched into fists, but he stays silent. 

Tears are streaming down her face, but she forces herself to glare and say, “That will never happen. I’m not stupid enough to love you.”

She slams the door in his face, then drops to the floor to cry. Pressing a hand to her chest, she tries hopelessly to ignore the voice in her head telling her if that were true, this wouldn’t hurt so damn much. 

____________________________________________________________

Uh, can I just say right now that I’m sorry? Hang in there. I TOLD YOU IT’S A SLOW BURN. Part 5

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