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myouicieloz · 5 months

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Sweetest dreams

Park Chaeyoung x reader

Synopsis: it’s been long since you’ve had a girls night with your best friend, Rosé. also, it’s been long since you’ve been having many non-friendly dreams regarding the blonde, too. luckily, she knows you and your body too well, and is all willing to help.

Warnings: smut. nsfw. dom!rosé x sub!reader

Word count: 2.6k

Notes: this is a fairly worn out prompt but i’m trying to get back to writing so… i hope it doesn’t suck too much. love you bunnies ^^ xx ps: not proofread! sorry :/ it’s late and i have an exam tmr

Rosé’s tongue was all over your body, making you shiver. She trails sweet kisses over your skin, her mouth lingering lower and lower until she reached the middle of your thighs, making you moan as you grab her hair to pull her face to your needy cunt. Your skin felt on fire, and you needed release so bad…

In a blink, however, you found yourself almost falling off the bed, pajamas sticking to your sweaty skin and heart roaming loudly. You gathered yourself back to a safe place in bed and, taking deep breaths, tried to remind yourself it was just a dream. An excellent, forbidden one.

Once again, you were dreaming of fucking your best friend. Those dreams were beginning to happen frequently, now, no matter how hard you tried to suppress your feelings for her. Rosé was simply everywhere: in advertisements, banners, commercials… She was, indeed, the moment. It was impossible to ignore her presence and effect on your body, even though you tried. Hard.

As you managed to calm yourself down, you took notice of how wet you were. Your panties were sticking to your cunt, and you simply felt the urge to be filled. It was uncomfortable and made you incredibly frustrated, even more since the dream had felt so real… it was almost like Rosé was actually between your thighs, pleasing you until your body went numb.

You could only wish, though.

“Y/n, love, what’s wrong?” You felt the rosé’s arms on your back, tracing soothing circles, as she usually did when you woke up from a nightmare. She knew you were prone to those, often facetiming her in the middle of the night to have her keep you company until you managed to fall asleep.

However, it wasn’t a nightmare this time.

You and Rosé have been best friends since high school, and she was thrilled to welcome you to Korea when you got into Hanyang University, in Seoul. Your friendship only got stronger as she debuted and even now, with her idol life and your work in tech, you’d always find some time to talk to each other and hang out. You were close— she was your closest friend, even though she was frequently physically away for the most, and Rosé would always make some time to have sleepovers with you, whenever she came back to Korea. It was a ritual you’ve grown accustomed to for many years now, and it was extremely relaxing and soothing: to just gossip, eat snacks and watch cringey movies until you fell asleep in her enormous bed, passed out from exhaustion.

That was until you started having those damn dreams about her, months ago.

Sensing that you wouldn’t answer, Rosé scooped herself closer, tugging a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Just tell me, dear, and we’ll fix it. Is it another nightmare?”

You shook her head, shutting your eyes to avoid staring at the blonde’s attentive gaze. If Rosé took a single look at you, she’d know you were terribly aroused right away.

Somehow, Rosé always knows everything that happens to you.

Gently grabbing your chin, she inspected every inch of your face.

“Not a nightmare?” You mumbled in response, shaking your head. Her brows furrowed, and she stood on her elbows. “What then, love?”

Her hand was still tracing circles on your back, and God, her touch was driving you crazy. You were absolutely conscious of the wet pool in your panties and couldn’t help but wonder what would it feel like if her long, graceful fingers went a bit further, until they reached your slit and—

“J-just a dream.” the pillow muffled your voice. “Silly dream.”

“It’s not silly, dear. Not if it bothers you. Do you want to tell me what was it about?” Rosé offered, finally stopping to stroke your back. She was awake now, focused on you.

It makes you shiver.

“It’s ok, really.” You gulped, pushing the covers to get off the bed and from the temptation that was having the blonde so close. “I just have to use the restroom real quick.”

Her hands gripped your thighs to stop you from getting up, nails scratching your needy skin. You let out a low grasp, immediately putting a hand over your mouth to muffle your sounds. It didn’t matter, now. Of course she heard you moan like a little bitch at her slightest touch. You grabbed her wrists, but didn’t motion to pull her from you, either.

“Y/n, look at me.” Her assertive tone was the same you’ve heard many times, although directed to other people. The one she used when she wanted something done quickly and without much questioning; the one of a leader. Naturally, you did as told, staring hesitantly at her darkened eyes. “Tell me what you’ve just dreamt about.”

You gulped, mumbling a set of incoherent phrases until a squeeze on your thigh made you inhale deeply, trying to gather some courage. “Promise not to laugh? Or to hate me?”

“Never, dearest.” Rosé smiled at you, just as she has done countless times before, which soothes most of your nerves away. “We tell each other everything, right? So tell me.”

Her hands, the ones still brushing your thighs with care, made it difficult to breathe and to speak clearly. You’ve always loved that Rosé was an affectionate person, but that seemed a lot different, now. Her touch was clearly different.

You don’t think you can get any wetter than that; your insides felt so drenched you feared you’d be leaving a wet spot in Rosé’s sheets once you got up. Your skin was on fire and your hands trembled, expecting. You wondered what would Rosé do once you finally confess your dirtiest, sluttiest things you. Would she tell you off? Would she say she only thought of you as a friend, and that you were mixing things up?

Still, for the first time in your life, you decided to risk it.

“I-I,” Your voice faltered, too scared to say anything and fuck up your friendship, but as rosé kissed your hair gently, you continued, “I dreamt you were eating me out. There, I said it. That was it.”

You shut your eyes, feeling your face getting all flustered. She must think you’re such a pervert, now. Why wouldn’t she, with you edging yourself on her bed like a whore?

You didn’t want ruin your friendship, nor did you want Rosé to think of you as one of the many people who only wanted her for her body, her money or her fame.

Again, you motioned to get up, mumbling excuses and adding you were going home immediately, but the smaller girl managed to place herself in front of you, a sneaky smile dancing on her lips.

“Do you want me to?” She licked her lips, staring at your mouth expectantly. you didn’t answer immediately, with your mind still clouded, making her jump in her place. “Eat you out, I mean. Do you?”

You choked on your saliva as you gulped hard, staring at her in disbelief. “If I want you to—“

“Wait. I have a better idea,” Rosé pushed you as she placed herself between your thighs, “Just don’t think so much, Y/n.”

Before you could say anything, the blonde had already taken your panties out, diving into your cunt with hunger. You couldn’t help but moan loudly as she works her way in, your hands flying to her hair to push her even further.

She doesn’t let you breathe or even compose yourself as her hands roam through your body, soon getting rid of your big shirt.

“You taste so good, Y/n-nie.” She murmurs, although it clearly isn’t directed at you. Her gazed is focused on your sex, lazily playing with your clit as she licks and sucks, “Just as I always knew you would. Took you too fucking long.”

“R-rosie…” You mumble, too lost in pleasure to properly tell her what you want her to do with you. Rosé is skilled, and you try your best to ignore the piercing feeling that bruises your heart as you realize she’s obviously had lots of practice. Thankfully, said thoughts are promptly vanished from your brain as the blonde’s fingers open you up, allowing her to slip her tongue inside your entrance in a languid pace. Her movements are messy and her saliva, mixed with your wetness, runs in a thin line through her chin as she moans. The vibrations of her voice echo through your cunt with enough strength to make you cum on the spot, and it takes you much strength to just not give in.

She looks divine, all collected while you’re a shuddering mess, her tongue now making circling movements everywhere as she plays with your sex as much as she wants to. You can feel your abdomen heating up to your orgasm, and part of you hates that she’s so good at this: you don’t want it to end so soon.

“‘M-m close,” You manage to mumble, gripping her hair even tighter to push her into your dripping pussy. To your dismay, she retreats herself quickly, giving your pussy a final, sloppy kiss as she distances herself from between your thighs.

You whine, almost crying to have your pleasure ruined. You stand on your elbows to stare at Rosé, cocking your head to the sides to try to figure her out. Hadn’t you been good? You did tell her about your dreams, just as she asked demandedy you to. Why were you being punished, then?

Laughing at your confusion, Rosé pulls herself up to meet your face, taking you in for a lusty kiss. She liked it messy, it’s not difficult to notice. Your mouths were both red and bruised from the intensity of your actions, with the blonde dominating all corners of your mouth completely, until you too had tasted the saltness of your juices mixed with her intoxicating taste; one you’ve dreamt about for so long.

“I’m not trying to ruin your fun, babe.” She murmurs, tapping your thighs, so you’re positioned on top of her as she lies down, bringing your red, swollen pussy onto her face. Somehow, Rosé always knows what you are thinking.

Her tone is low and sensual as she adds, giving your cunt shallow licks, “I just want you to cum on my face, exactly like this.”

You don’t have much of a choice, even so, as she grips her nails on your thighs and lowers your body to lap her mouth at your cunt once again, somehow even more dense than before. You didn’t mind the pain from her acrylic nails, though— too focused on regaining the familiar feeling that was already building up on your stomach to care about the marks it’d leave, later.

“You’re t-too good. Fuck!” Your eyes roll as you push yourself even further onto Rosé, not minding whether she was breathing or not. Although, from the way she rubs her own thighs and the lewd sounds she makes, you’re fairly able to notice she’s getting her fair amount of fun, too.

“You should’ve heard yourself, Y/n.” Rosé’s giggles are nothing but a mushed sound in your head, since all you were focused was on how sweet her lips tasted when colliding with your skin. Her greedy tongue sucked on your clit, making its way onto all your pussy just to pay attention to your swollen bud once again, circling and changing the amount of pressure she chose to apply. You felt one of her hands grip your breasts, pinching your nipples in a sudden movement that causes your eyes to open, making you focus on the blonde. It was so good, and you could feel your release starting to present itself, rushing down in strong waves that had your body begin to tremble slightly. “Moaning like a bitch for me, even in your dreams. You’re so nasty, you know? Wanting this so bad. Such a fucking whore.”

“R-rosie, please, I’m so fucking close. Let me cum, please, I s-swear I’ll do anything you want if you just let me fucking c—“ You beg, letting out a high-pitched moan as you feel her teeth nibbling the insides of your thighs.

You can feel her smiling under you as she commands. “Do it, my sweet. Let go, then.” And with one final harsh suck on your clit, you come hard, your whole body trembling as Rosé helps you extend your high by giving your pussy long, sloppy licks, collecting all of your cum as she does so.

You sigh, letting your body fall limp besides her. Your muscles felt sore, and you were sure you’d wake up covered in bruises in the morning— and Rosé knew how much you thought it was corny to be marked like that.

However, it did make you let out a small giggle, knowing she probably did it on purpose, always finding little ways to defy you.

“God, you’re so pretty like this.” You feel her slim arms circle your waist, pulling you close to herself as she places little kisses on your shoulder and back. “Doesn’t even compare to how I imagined it, so many fucking times. I lost count, you know?Of how many.”

Instinctively, you found yourself leaning further as she finds her way to your neck, brushing your sticky, sweaty hair aside to make sure to leave an even bigger mess on your skin. It was only when you felt her fingers brush your ass and cup your cunt that you whined loudly, turning around to hide your head in the crook of her neck.

“One more, princess?” She asks, pecking your lips as she lifts your chin, eager to have a proper look at your fucked out face. For Rosé, it was the best sight in the world.

“S’ too soon, Rosie. Too much.” You mumble, looking down to where her hands rested. You’ve had a rough week at work, and now that your high has passed, you could feel the weariness reaching deep in your bones. You closed your eyes, hoping to rest for just a few seconds, but whined even more as you felt the weight of her on the bed gone.

“I’ll clean you up, then.” She clarified, smiling once you grabbed her wrists to keep her from going further away from you. You would rather not leave the warmth of her body, nor break the bubble of love and reassurance you were feeling, at the moment. “Just a few seconds, I promise. Then I’ll be right back with you.” Her promise was enough for you to let go of her arm, sighing in defeat.

You searched for one of Rosé’s numerous pillows— all splashed on the ground now. — and tried to make yourself comfortable while you watched her go to her bathroom, making a big effort to keep your eyes opened.

The next thing you felt were warm, delicate hands brushing your thighs with a warm towel. Rosé worked on you with care as she cleaned you, leaning in for another slow kiss as she noticed your attention on her.

“We have to talk about this, Rosie.” You murmured, making it her turn to grunt.

“Sure, we’ll talk.” She assured you, nodding. But as her hands were so warm, and she started massaging your skin just as she knew you liked it, you decided that talking could wait until morning, logically. “Sweet dreams, my sweet girl.”

Before you’ve even had time to acknowledge it, your body had given up to the land of dreams, unlike you intended to, and Rosé gave you a gentle kiss before scooping you up.

#blackpink smut #blackpink x reader #blackpink x you #park chaeyoung #park roseanne #park rosé #roseanne park #rosé smut #park chaeyoung smut #rosé x reader #rosé x yn #rose smut #rose x reader #sol’s works #sol writes

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auras-moonstone · 9 months

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i can see you — ethan landry

word count: 2,623

pairing: non-gf!ethan landry x fem!reader

based on: i can see you by taylor swift

summary: y/n and ethan work at a summer camp which has very strict rules—relationships between the staff is completely forbidden.

author’s note: this song is the epitome of horniness, so there are some suggestive things in this story. no smut, but there are sexual activities implied.

part two

ONE OF THE FIRST RULES YOU’RE TOLD ON YOUR FIRST DAY OF WORK AT THE GARDEN GATE SUMMER CAMP IS: RELATIONSHIPS BETWEEN STAFF MEMBERS ARE COMPLETELY FORBIDDEN. At first, Y/N didn’t mind that rule at all. No one on the staff has ever caught her attention in the two years she had been working there. But then, he bursted into the room—breathless, red cheeks (probably from running), perfect curly hair, big brown enthralling eyes, tall and broad shoulders, absolutely mesmerising features—and she knew she was utterly and absolutely fucked.

“Sorry I’m late… flat tire” he said, trying to catch his breath. And his voice was irritably hot, just great, Y/N groaned internally.

“It’s okay. I had just explained a few rules. The most important—and if we found out you broke it, we’ll have no choice but to fire you—no romantic relationships between staff members, got it?” Jessie, their boss, said. The guy nodded in understanding.

Y/N tried not to look at the mysterious new guy for the rest of the meeting—but it was impossible, his magnetic field was a little too strong. It was going to be a cruel summer, she could feel it.

Ethan, even though he didn’t show it, felt her gaze ever since he walked into that room and it excited him. He had been crushing on that girl ever since Chad showed him a picture of her. He had told her how funny and sweet she was and let it slip that Ethan was exactly her type, so that’s why he ended getting a job at Garden Gate Summer Camp—to meet her.

“Y/N! It’s so nice to see you!” Tara hugged her tightly. Y/N and the group —Tara, the Meeks-Martin twins and Sam—met the previous summer, on their first day of work at the camp. They went to different colleges, but they still texted and face-timed a lot.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N/N, this is Ethan, the roommate I told you would be joining us this year?” Chad introduced her to the personification of a daydream.

“Oh, yeah! Welcome to the nightmare, Ethan. A job at a summer camp is not cool as it sounds” Y/N looked at him with a smile.

“Oh, okay. That makes me feel so excited” he said sarcastically. “But thank you. Hope you heard all good things about me”

“Don’t worry, man. I told her you are a shy, dorky nerdy boy” Chad said, patting his shoulder. Ethan rolled his eyes at him, of course he said that.

“Don’t feel bad, Ethan. Shy, dorky, nerdy guys are cool… jocks, on the other hand…” Y/N faked a gag, and the tall boy laughed.

“Okay, okay I deserved that” Chad laughed too.

That night, both Y/N and Ethan went to bed with excitement filling their chests, trying their hardest to sleep early just so tomorrow would come faster—they couldn’t wait to see each other again.

THE WEEKS PASSED AND THE TENSION THE TWO TEENAGERS FELT AROUND EACH OTHER WAS BECOMING MORE AND MORE UNBEARABLE. Y/N never thought she would hate that fucking rule Jessie set so much. She despised the fact that all she could do was enjoy the way he brushed past her in the hallways. It was getting so hard to retain the need to touch him.

And Ethan… no one would believe the things that went through his mind everytime he saw Y/N. Like right now, she she was waiting down the hallway—to lead him to the closet they were tasked to arrange—and the image of Y/N up against the wall with him, kissing her into oblivion, crossed his mind. Holding back from her was a complete nightmare.

“Eth? Everything okay? You look a little flushed” her sweet voice invaded his ears. His thoughts had been so loud he wondered if she could read his mind.

“The day feels hot and heavy today” was his excuse. The day was indeed intolerable, but that was not the reason he felt like that. It was totally her—the way she made that ridiculous camp shirt look hot, and the shorts that showed her beautiful legs.

“I told you. This job is not as cool as it sounded. Everyone is having fun at the lake and we are stuck in this closet” she laughed “And how is it even hotter in here? My god”.

“Let’s just hurry so we can leave” he said. “Hey, I heard you’re transferring to Blackmore, right?” Ethan tried to make conversation as they worked.

“Yup. I’m rooming with Mindy and her girlfriend. So, you’ll be seeing more of me when the summer ends”

“Thank god” he said. Y/N looked at him in surprise, and then a smirk formed on her face. Ethan widened his eyes and tried to explain himself. “I mean, with Tara and Chad, and Mindy and Anika being couples, I’m kind of always fifth wheeling… now I have you. In the group, I mean, n-not as in… my g-girlfriend”.

“You’re adorable, Ethan” Y/N told him. Ethan held back a sigh. Of course he was the adorable one, the cute one, never the hot one. He didn’t know how he could’ve thought it would be different with Y/N. “I like adorable, for the record”.

Yeah, as a friend, I bet, Ethan said to himself. “Done” he said, already wanting to get out of the closet to drown himself in his own disappointment.

“Right” Y/N stood up, cursing herself for having messed up. She totally meant it as a compliment—yes, Ethan was hot but he was also really sweet and adorable and she liked him a lot. But clearly the boy had been teased about being dorky, nerdy and adorable so much that he started to hate it.

The curly-haired boy turned the handle and tried to open the door. “No, no. No way” he said shaking the door with force. “Y/N it’s not opening”.

“What? Let me see” she said, pushing him aside. “Shit. It must be stuck”.

“Do you have your phone?” Ethan asked. Y/N shook her head. “Fuck, me neither. What do we do?”.

“Well, we’ll have to wait. I mean, they’ll eventually notice we’re missing, right?”

“But that could take hours” Ethan groaned.

“Yeah, we don’t have any other choice so, get comfortable”

The minutes passed and the little room turned warmer and heavier. Their shirts were soaked in sweat and the fabric of Y/N’s jean shorts was starting to feel hot against her skin.

“We’re going to die” Ethan muttered. They were sitting against a wall next to each other. “The shirt is sticking to my skin” he said, trying to create some air by shaking the fabric with rapid movements. “I need to take it off”.

“Please don’t take it off” by his muscled arms and broad shoulders, Y/N could tell Ethan spent some considerable amount of time at the gym. That means that he probably had abs and the last thing she needed at the moment is her body to turn warmer.

“I’m sorry but I might melt if I don’t” he said before getting rid of the dark blue Garden Gate Summer Camp shirt.

Y/N really did try not to shamelessly look at his body, but she was just a girl with only so much self-restraint. “This is torture”.

“I know, let’s just hope they’ll notice soon” he said.

She was, definitely, not talking about the hot room, but the hot, shirtless boy next to her. But she just said “Yeah”. After a couple of minutes, she couldn’t take the heat any longer so she followed Ethan’s actions and took off her shirt, leaving her in only shorts and a black bikini top.

“What are you doing?” he asked in panic, trying to look anywhere but her chest.

“The shirt was so sticky it disgusted me. Chill, it’s just a bikini”

“It’s not the bikini, it’s who is wearing it” the words left his mouth before he could even process them.

The blood rushed into her cheeks, making her even warmer “Ethan, fuck, you’re making this harder” she cursed.

“I could say the same about you” he accused her.

“Ew” Y/N teased him.

Ethan widened his eyes “No! That’s not what I meant!”

“I know, I’m just messing with you” she bursted out laughing. Her shoulder accidentally touched his and the laughter stopped. Their breaths hitched at the contact. “Maybe we should… try banging the door? Someone might hear us”

Ethan nodded frenetically. He needed to get out of this room before he did something stupid. “This is useless” he said after a couple of minutes, leaning against the door.

“I’m sorry for what I said” she blurted out, making him look at her in confusion. “About you being adorable. I can tell you didn’t like it, and I’m sorry”.

“I know it’s silly, I mean getting offended by a harmless compliment, I just… I’m kind of tired of being the one who stays in a corner at parties because I’m not enough confident or hot like Chad or other frat boys. I’m the cute guy, the adorable one, the one that girls want as a friend not a hookup”.

“That’s not how I feel about you, Ethan. God, you have no fucking idea, do you? The effect you’ve had on me since the first day? You don’t know half the things I see inside my head when you are near me or even when you’re not” she didn’t even notice she was pinning him to the door. But Ethan was well aware of it, and he loved it “So yes, Ethan, I think you’re the sweetest and most adorable guy I’ve ever met, but you are also so fucking attractive. I like you and want you so bad, it drives me absolutely insane”.

“What would you do if I went to touch you now?” Ethan asked in a low, raspy voice.

He was so irresistible. “Keep taking to me in that voice and I will do anything you want, let you do anything you want” he definitely had her in the palm of his hand, and she didn’t mind at all.

“Y/N, Ethan? You’re in there?” they heard Chad’s voice on the other side of the door.

“Are you kidding me? They appear now?” Ethan groaned in a whisper. Y/N grimaced and shrugged. It was probably for the best. “Yes! We’ve been stuck here for hours!”

A WEEK HAD PASSED SINCE THE CLOSET SITUATION and while they managed to keep everything professional, they both felt something had changed between them now that they knew they were attracted to each other. They now exchanged seductive smiles, brief teasing touches, and shared meaningful glances only the other was able to decipher—it kind of became their secret language.

But the thing was ultimately treacherous, those little actions just made the situation worse because if they had trouble holding back from each other before, now it felt physically draining.

“We have night patrol, who volunteers?” Sam asked, no one raised their hands. Everyone hated night patrols. “Oh, please”.

“Fine, I’ll do it” Y/N spoke up.

Sam sent her a grateful smile “Who else?”

Ethan faked a defeated sigh and said, “I’ll go too”. Y/N held back a smile.

“Perfect!” Sam exclaimed, giving them the lanterns.

“Good luck, guys” the rest of the group said before entering their respective cabins.

“So, are you going to make a move or are you going to keep eye-fucking me during every fucking meeting?” Ethan asked.

“Mmm, I don’t know. I kinda like seeing you clench your jaw, how you discreetly adjust your shorts, how you try to look away from me but totally failing” she whispered in his ear.

Ethan groaned, gripping her waist tightly “You temptress… you drive me insane. You know it hurts, right? Like, a lot”

“I’m sorry… maybe I should make it up to you?” Y/N smiled innocently, while dragging her hand from his shoulder all the way down to the waistline of his shorts. “Follow me” she grabbed his hand, leading him towards a secure place, very well hidden.

“You’re so gorgeous” he said, pressing her against the wall. He was so tall that she had to look up at him. “Are you going to let me kiss you, Y/N?”.

She looked at him with begging eyes and nodded. As soon as their lips touched, they could see themselves being each other’s addictions. There was so much urgency and neediness in the way their lips moved, they couldn’t imagine ever wanting to pull apart. Hands wandered everywhere—chests, cheeks, jaws, necks—wanting to feel and memorise every inch possible. Nothing could ever be enough though, they wanted more and more of each other.

“I want to make it up to you, Eth” she whispered once they had to pull away.

“Whatever you want. I am okay doing whatever you want” he whispered against her neck, the smell of vanilla and coconut blurring his senses.

“You’re going to keep quiet for me, pretty boy?” Y/N asked descending her kisses from his neck down to collarbone.

“Yes, I promise. Just… please”

So Y/N got down to her knees and Ethan totally broke his promise.

ETHAN LANDRY, Y/N FOUND, WAS THE MOST TRANSPARENT PERSON SHE KNEW. Or at least when his emotions were on edge. The next morning, when the girl joined the rest of the group for breakfast, Ethan almost fell out of his seat. And it certainly caught the attention of their friends.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked him confused by his sudden behaviour.

“Y-yeah, I just thought there was an insect on my leg” he laughed nervously. Y/N wanted to kill him, they were going to find them out if he continued to act like that.

“Well, we are at a camp… in the woods. There are a lot of insects, so you have to get accustomed to them, Ethan” Y/N said.

“R-right, yeah. Obviously” he nodded.

“Man, do you feel alright? You’re acting weird” Chad asked his friend.

“We stayed up late last night” Y/N said, and Ethan choked on his coffee. “-patrolling. And Ethan here is basically a grandpa who wanted to go to bed like ten minutes after we started. So, maybe he just needs a little rest”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what is wrong. I need more hours of sleep” Ethan nodded.

“You’re the worst partner ever” Y/N said sending him a look that said ‘act normal’.

“Yeah, I don’t know what the fuck is going on here but we better get to work” Mindy said.

Y/N AND ETHAN DECIDED TO HAVE THE LEAST INTERACTION POSSIBLE DURING THE DAY. The group did not buy the sleepless excuse at all, they knew something was going on between them. So, looking around to make sure no one was near, Y/N casually walked past Ethan and left a note on his hand.

meet me tonight at my cabin

make sure no one sees you leave your cabin

“You really need to start behaving, Ethan” she said as Ethan entered her cabin, closing the door behind him.

“I just… I keep replaying you on your knees and looking up at me with those fucking beautiful doe eyes and I can’t help it. You make me fucking nervous and flustered”

Y/N smiled, even the thought of being annoyed at him was impossible. She just had a soft spot for him.“Maybe I should get you accustomed to the feeling of me… of all the things that haven’t happened between us yet. And maybe then you’ll start behaving like a normal person around me” she had pushed him to her bed. He looked at her with wide hungry eyes, pulling her to his lap.

“I really like the sound of that… like a secret mission. But first, I need to return the favour. Then, we can do anything you want” Ethan said kissing her collarbone.

Y/N smiled, grabbing him by the jaw to kiss him softly “It’s okay, Eth. You don’t need to”

“I don’t need to, but I want to. There’s nothing I want more” he said, grabbing her tights to switch positions. Now, she way lying on the bed, and he was kneeling between her legs.

“They suspect something, though, they had been keeping watchful eyes on us. So, just in case, we need to be fast. You can’t spend much time here” Y/N said, the feeling of his hand on her tight sending her electric shocks all over her body.

“I can be fast. Just keep quiet, gorgeous”

And soon enough, her hands were in his hair and the rest of their clothes ended up splattered across the room.

#jack champion #ethan landry #scream iv #ethan landry drabble #ethan landry fic #ethan landry oneshot #ethan landry fluff #ethan landry x y/n #ethanlandry #ethan landry x you #ethan landry x reader #jack champion fanfic #jack champion x reader #jack champion x y/n #jack champion oneshot #jackchampion #jack champion imagine #jack champion fluff

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balioc · 2 months

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Oh, boy! It's Education Theory o'Clock again!

...I have a lot of thoughts on this topic. At some point, when I'm less busy and tired, I should probably try to write them up. Natively, I'm one of the school-is-a-nightmare-prison people, like so many others in this little discourse-sphere -- but I'm married to a middle school teacher, so I regularly encounter both the good arguments from the other side and the facts on the ground, and those things have altered my perspective somewhat.

But I am, in fact, busy and tired. So for now I'll just content myself with saying:

School is an institution that serves many, many, many purposes at the same time. A lot of those purposes are load-bearingly important. (A couple of years ago, I wrote this about college, and...it's double-plus true for primary and secondary schools.) If you don't try to account for all of that stuff in your theory of What School Is and How School Works, you will generate incoherent garbage thoughts. If you have a New Concept for school entailing top-down design that is optimized for a single function (like "increasing test scores" or "causing kids to love learning" or whatever), you'd better have a plan for how you're going to do all the other important things that schools do. And even if you think that some of those things aren't actually important or necessary, you'd better have a plan for dealing with all the people who disagree. Because...

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...school, as it exists today, is an inherently political institution. Both in the "soft" sense that everyone has strong opinions about what it's supposed to do and how it's supposed to work, and in the "hard" sense that it is actually controlled by democratically-accountable governments. (This is double-plus true in the US, where it is controlled by local governments, and therefore doesn't even have the protective insulation of a massive bureaucracy.) Everything about the way schools work is a compromise brokered amongst ideologues and self-dealers. Everything about the way schools work involves a lot of decision-makers trying not to get yelled at by the yelliest people around. If you're looking for elegant purpose-driven top-down design, you won't find it. You could probably make a case that any elegant purpose-driven top-down design would be better than the thing we actually have, but getting there would require finding a way to remove the political element.

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Most importantly: public schools are (1) compulsory, (2) universal, and (3) for children. [People who are legally children, anyway, whether or not they are actual children in whatever sense matters to you.]

This means that they cannot let students leave, and they have to keep control of all the students that they aren't allowing to leave.

In the most literal not-a-judgment-but-a-fact sense, they are indeed prisons. They are coercively keeping people inside. They have to do that thing, as per their most fundamental mandate within the current system. The alternatives involve letting kids run around unsupervised, and/or failing to give some kids even the most cursory kind of education, and those things are absolute non-starters under present conditions.

All the normal institutions-for-adults operate on the principle of -- If you really don't want to be here, you can leave, and deal with whatever consequences there may be for leaving. This is not an option for schools, and that fact accounts for...everything.

Classroom structure is built around the necessity of keeping the most-hostile, least-engaged student in the class present and supervised, and then trying to prevent him from disrupting things for everyone else. Because the obvious solution that any other institution would use -- "just cut him loose, he doesn't want to be here and we don't want him here" -- isn't available.

(I once talked to my wife about the rationed bathroom access thing, which is one of the most flagrant nightmare-prison aspects of the school experience. Her response was, "If you let kids use the bathroom whenever they want, as much as they want, then you don't have mandatory universal education anymore. Some of them will never return to the classroom, because they don't want to be there." Which is...obviously true.)

So you have something that replicates many of the features of prison, because it has to accomplish the same basic tasks that prison accomplishes. Yay, Foucault.

#education

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hollyhomburg · 8 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren��t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

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Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

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dear-ao3 · 5 months

Note

Ask for f1 drama

i shall continue my tales of regaling you all

this edition: las vegas

so as it currently stands (november 14, 2023) there are two races left in the 2023 f1 season. one is this weekend in las vegas and one is next weekend in abu dhabi. we already know who has won the drivers and contractors (team) championship (max verstappen and red bull) but theres still some loose ends in the form of second third fourth etc place that need some tying up.

and the standings for the lower places of the championship are all quite tight:

theres still a whole lot of action that can come there

which brings us to las vegas

vegas is a new race on the calendar, meaning no one has ever raced there on this track before (and likely no one will again based on how its going) and it is a street circuit, so they are literally racing on the las vegas strip.

now, prior to all the new stuff that came to light for this weekend, f1 royally managed to piss off las vegas by (probably) making tax payers (the people of vegas) pay for the strip to be repaved (several million dollars), wreaking absolute havoc on their town, shutting off the fountains, blocking things off, making traffic a nightmare and most terribly, saying that they would block off/put blackout on any stores or windows of stores or hotels who didnt want to pay a several thousand dollar fee to f1, basically making the race not viewable to anyone for free. (note that they have several other street circuit races in the calendar and they don't do this there). so it was already a nightmare.

now it gets more fun!

the race is in the middle of november in las vegas (which, for all intents and purposes, is a desert) and they decided for some unholy reason to make this a night race. i think it starts at 11 pm local time. and low and behold, the organizers just happened to forget (and they admitted that they did indeed forget) that it gets very cold at night in the desert. right now its projected to be 44-47 degrees f ( about 4/5 degrees c). f1 cars are fragile little machines that get grumpy in the wrong conditions and boy let me tell you, this is absolutely the wrong conditions. if it is indeed This Cold at the race, it will make it the coldest race in f1 history. last i heard people weren't entirely sure that the cars would work or that the tires would cooperate.

the track set up is woefully abysmally. to get the tires warm, the lads would need some good corners to zoom around to get the tires up to temperature where they can go vroom zoom fast, but, there are not too many corners. below is the track. as you can see, theres a lot of straights, and thus, not many good opportunities to get the tires nice and hot, further affecting car performance

the pit lane (you know where everyone usually goes at least once or twice to change their tires) is quite possibly in the worst spot it could be. it is on the tiny straight right before turn 1. when you go into the pitlane, the tires lose a good amount of heat (or all of it if you're going in to get fresh tires) and they need to warm the tires back up. problem is, they're going to be zooming out of the pitlane basically directly into turns 1 2 and 3, on cold rubber, in a cold race. but it gets better, because of the way the track is set up, this positioning of the pitlane, if the exits are not timed correctly, will cause collisions because the pitlane exit it basically right where the cars on the track need to go in order to get the most speed (its more technical than this and someone else can fully explain the pitlane disaster better, but this is it in very simple terms i think). the pitlane is around where that arrow is.

so not only will it be cold and the pitlane cause accidents and the cars won't work, they don't have names for any of the corners and straights. so right now the map of the track looks like this which is batshit hilarious

and to top it off!! no one has raced here! no one knows how the cars will perform!! its going to be a shit show! god save the poorest little meow meows!!

and unrelated but there is a chapel in the paddock at the race, just for some spice, called race to the alter

#not a tag #from saph #f1 #not a complete list by any means feel free to add on or correct me

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save-the-villainous-cat · 5 months

Note

Could you write a spicy thing with a villain and hero who’ve been fighting for a long time and basically see each other as friends or friendly rivals at this point, and the villain starts trying to flirt, expecting the hero to just brush them off, but the hero flirts back— like, really well— and it’s agonizingly (sexually) tense for a moment and then the hero just snatches the moment away with a joke and a wink, leaving the villain dumbstruck?

Very specific I know— it is absolutely okay if you don’t want to do it, no pressure!! I love your writing style <3

"Oh my god," the hero gasped. Their lungs burnt from the fight and they needed to put their hands on their knees as they took in greedy gulps of air. Sometimes, they asked themselves why they had chosen a job which forced them to do physical activities. What an actual nightmare. "That was..."

"Unexpected, yeah." The villain next to them looked down at the bodies and they seemed fairly unimpressed. They were completely calm, not even breathing heavily. They had been efficient and the hero would've found it unfair if the villain wasn't so nice about it.

"Unexpected? I thought we were gonna die." Slowly, their body calmed down. Their racing heart found a rhythm even the hero could agreed with. Their gaze turned to their nemesis whose eyes were basically glued to the hero. At times, the villain looked at them like they were the centre of the world but the hero figured, they did that to everyone every once in a while, just to freak people out.

"I thought no one was supposed to be here," the hero said. The mission, in its entirety, was rather simple: break into the facility to steal documents and get out alive. The team-up was spontaneous. Months ago, the hero would have been suspicious but now, the villain was rather an annoying friend they disagreed a lots with than someone they wanted to decapitate.

"That was the plan." The villain tilted their head and closed their eyes, as if they were trying to gather their thoughts.

"We need to be more careful," the hero said. "Security seems to be more intense than we thought."

"Nothing we can't handle." The villain shrugged. "You're bleeding."

"Wha—?" The hero followed the villain's gaze and, indeed, there was a huge cut in their biceps. The hero hadn't noticed it, hadn't even felt any pain. Now that the adrenaline had worn off, they could see this being a problem.

"Sit down."

"I'm okay," the hero answered.

"You're not okay and I won't catch you if you fall over. Sit down." The hero rolled their eyes and (reluctantly) sat down. Immediately, the villain was on their knees and held the hero's arm, observing the injury. Luckily, they had thought of bandages which was something the hero never did. They wondered if they should start carrying those around with them.

"You're being dramatic." The villain's hands worked fast as they bandaged the hero's wound. It hurt more than the hero wanted to admit. Whenever the villain was a little too harsh, they swallowed a groan. "It's just my arm."

"Yeah and in an hour it's just your pretty face." The hero stared at them. Admittedly, their face felt quite hot. Suddenly, they were all too well aware of the proximity between them. The villain's fingertips were warm and they were gentle, despite the raging pain the hero endured. The villain was kind and funny. They cared enough to make the hero greedy for more.

Someone they could give everything, the good and the bad. The hero wished they could be that person for the villain and vice versa.

Was it a sarcastic comment, though? Or did the villain mean it? Did they really think the hero was pretty? And not this broken thing that needed help? God, the hero sometimes really felt like they weren't anything more than a burden. Even back then, the villain had done most of the work.

"I don't have a problem with that," the hero answered quickly. "If it means that you'll be on your knees for me again."

The villain stopped and looked up. Their eyes found the hero's before they dropped down to the hero's lips. Shy. The hero had managed to make the villain shy. Even though the villain had always tried to portray someone heartless and cold, they were blushing now and the hero's heart was beating so loud, they feared the villain could hear it too.

Sometimes, they wished they weren't enemies. Sometimes, the hero hoped they could trust the villain forever. But they knew that was a dream and they were scared of the day when it turned out that the villain would betray them.

"I-" The hero watched them swallow.

God, they wanted to kiss them so bad.

"We should go," the hero said. They forced a smirk and winked. "I doubt the documents will fly away but you never know."

"Oh...yeah..." The villain watched as the hero stood up and for the rest of the day, they seemed rather distracted.

#yeah I knoOoOw that I let you down but is it too late to say sorry now #dunno if this is good flirting #writing snippet #heroxvillain snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroes and villains #hero x villain #heroxvillain #hero #villain #request #an answer for an ask

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obanaispy · 19 days

Note

More ex hubby eren🌚🫶🏽

cast ! eren jaeger + reader

wc ! 1.6k+

tldr ! house party with your ex = house party with some sex

content ! dirty talk + alcohol + spanking + rough sex + light cunt slapping

a/n ! i took so long.. hope it was worth the wait!

“Its going to be the party of the century”

With an outfit like this? It better be. Y/n had pulled out all the works. A mauve colored spaghetti strap dress with the back cut out– the hem stopping right below her ass. Her neck was coated with a sweet Vanilla scented perfume, an arrangement of silver necklaces complimenting the fragrance. Connie had finally convinced them to leave their safe space by planning “The party to start the summer”. His words. Jean and Connie were the homies so it was hard to turn down their every invitation without feeling a bit of guilt.

Buckling her heel around her ankle, Y/n pulled out her phone to make sure her date for the night was still game. He would be an idiot if he wasnt. “Hello?” his voice rasped from the other end, sending a chill down her spine. “Hey Reiner, are we meeting at the boys?”. “No no.. i’ll pick you up”. Y/n smiled, “right answer.” Hanging up, she did one last round of perfume before going into the living room to wait. Maybe this night would be just what she needed.

At first it was, Jean was in charge of music and the vibe was absolutely right. Reiner had a hand on her waist, swaying along as she rolled her hips– ass pressing against him subtly. Y/n was 3 shots in and feeling right. Not drunk but definitely not sober. “I’m going to run to the bathroom” Reiner spoke into her ear before kissing it lightly, walking away and leaving Y/n to the wolves. “Cuff It” by Beyonce began to boom over the speakers, causing Y/n to holler, “this is my SHIT!”

“I thought that was you..”

She froze. Turning around, Y/n was met with no one other than her worst nightmare– Eren.Her hands immediately became clammy, the dance floor suddenly becoming too crowded. “Hey–” Y/n had vanished before he could even finish his sentence. Rushing into the kitchen, she found a plastered Connie with his face smushed into Sasha’s chest. “You mother fucker” Y/n seethed, yanking him back and pulling him into the pantry before slamming the door. “Woah woah… I didn’t know you liked me that way” he slurred, a drunken smirk on his lips. Y/n rolled her eyes, pinching him– “don’t flatter yourself, Gnomeo. Why the fuck is my ex husband here?”. Connie looked at her confused, frog blinking before clocking in, “oh shit….” Oh shit indeed. Eren and Y/n had a VERY messy divorce, the legal papers somehow not being enough to really call it quits. She had just now stopped responding to his booty calls… as well as stopping all of her own. She was free of him! So.. why did seeing him make her stomach fill with fluttering? She wasn’t 20 anymore, she saw him for who he was. A handsome basket case– unable to correct his own flaws.

“Y/n.. I swear hiccup I had no clue he would be here. He told me he was too busy to come” Connie stared at her , his expression letting her know he was being honest. Connie hated drama and suddenly, Y/n felt like a fool dragging him into his own pantry. “Okay… okay my bad. You know how I get when I see him” she sighed, hugging Connie tightly before opening the door. Walking out, she dragged him back to Sasha, apologizing and giving her a proper hello. After a few words of kindness, she turned to walk out before being blocked by him. “Do. Not. Run. Please.. Can we just talk” Eren asked, voice barely above a whisper, a light hold finding its way around her wrist. She could do nothing but stare at him for a minute, his eyes looked softer, his hair long enough to be pulled back into a sizable ponytail. Looking back at Connie and Sasha who were trying to pretend they weren't eavesdropping by throwing a golf ball into the same red cup. Beer pong my ass. “Fine… fine. You get 10 minutes.” She pushed past him, making her way through the crowd towards the back door. Once outside she scanned the space, spotting the greenhouse where they grew their.. happy grass. She quickly walked in that direction, Eren following close after.

“So..” she stated, arms folded as she made direct eye contact. “Soooo.. How have you been?’ Eren asked sheepishly, Y/n’s response being silence. For a moment neither of them said a word, the silence being filled with the faint of Sza’s, ‘I hate you’ blasting over the speakers. “Listen… I really do mean it when I say I regret how we fell out. You put up with a lot of my shit and.. sighs I'm way too grown to be acting the way I did.” Y/n just scoffed. Eren stared at her for a moment before continuing, “You look.. Gorgeous. See you came here with Reiner’. Y/n could tell he was trying to act unbothered. “Who I'm here with is none of your business” she smirked, biting her bottom lip. Why was she nervous? She should know better but… fuck he smelt good. Looked it too.

“Y/n…” he gruffed, an arm going around her waist to pull her closer before she could protest. “Come on, you don’t even miss me a bit? Don’t miss the way I could.. Handle you? Treat your body like a God? You know.. I still do worship you. I fucked up, I know but–” he was cut off by her lips meeting his, her hands immediately going up to bury themselves into his locks. Eren followed her movements, both of his hand wrapping around her waist, pressing his body against hers almost as if he wanted to fuse into her. Their bodies stumbled into a wall, Y/n’s dress being hiked up, her hands fumbling to unbutton his shirt. Eren’s lips traveled from her lips to her jawline– latching around the skin on the side of her neck. One of his hands found its way between her legs, palming her cunt through her damp panties. Y/n melted in his touch, legs struggling to keep her up as he slid the fabric to the side and pinched her clit in between two fingers– rolling the bud between them. His head came up from her neck to study her face– lips slightly parted to match her own. Y/n sighed out, hips jutting upwards into his touch, “please…”. Eren let out a breath, fingers pooling into her at the singular word.

He quickly found a rhythm, a curl joining each thrust in, his lips smashing against hers. Their tongues swirled around one another, Y/n sucking the tip of his tongue, teeth closing around his bottom lip with a harsh tug. Eren laughed into her mouth, his free hand going to unbuckle his pants while the other one kept busy. His fingers spread deep within her, making way for a third one while he wriggled out of his jeans. “You ready for me?” he said hurriedly, eyes dark with lust and possession. As soon as Y/n nodded, he replaced his hand with his cock– pushing past her folds as a grunt fell from his lips. “Oh fuck..” he growled, pace picking up quickly before she had time to adjust. Eren’s hand quickly went to her thigh, a firm grip bringing her leg up to wrap around him. He thrusted upwards as Y/n loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, eyes struggling to focus with the new angle.

“S-so Reiner huh?” he mumbled, head resting inside of the crook of Y/n’s neck. His thrusts were becoming deeper, balls smacking against her skin with each thrust. “Really thought pulling that shit was funny? Hm? Sorry.. I refuse to give this up” he said between clenched teeth. Before she could respond, Y/n was now flipped around and bent over– Eren’s dick slapping against her bare ass. “Want it?”. She couldnt help but roll her eyes, “yes, cmoon” she whined out. Eren chuckled before giving her a firm slap on her ass. “Youve done better than that in your sleep” he chuckled before cocking his hand back once more, allowing this one to land on her cunt. Y/n let out a yelp, thankful for the sound of the party.

“Please babe.. I miss your dick so much. You know that I feel good around you.. Please fuck what’s yours” she looked back at him as she spoke, cunt drenched at this point. Eren’s dark eyes looked down on her, strands of his hair sticking to his face— lips slightly parted. A smile slowly spread across them before he pressed his tip against her hole. Y/n sighed out in relief, hips going to push back against him— her eyes closing before opening at the feeling of him pulling away. “What did I do now?”

Eren chuckled, shaking his head, “just want you to look at me..”. Placing a firm grip on her shoulder, Eren slid himself all the way in— eyes focusing on the way Y/ns face contorted. Each thrust made it harder for her to focus, a couple of spanks from Eren reminding her of her instructions. “Yeah.. take that fucking dick..” he gritted, body twitching as he slowly started to lose rhythm. Suddenly, both of his hands went to her waist, thrusts becoming rabid as he pulled her back into each one. His rhythm was now completely gone, sloppy thrusts coming to an end as he came deep inside of her.

They both sat in silence for a minute, panting as they struggled to get dressed. Finally, Y/n cleared her throat— “I should…probably tell Reiner he can go home..”. Eren stared at her for a moment before chuckling, “he’s a grown man, he’ll live. Besides..” , he pulled her closer, “I don’t think this was enough to call it makeup sex.. Let me show you how sorry I truly am..”

#obanaispy #oswrites #anime #aot fic #aot smut #eren jeager smut #eren smut #eren aot #exhusband #jean aot #aot connie #attack on titan smut

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darlingeames · 5 months

Text

‘You’re Blackbeard?’

Ed – Blackbeard, for Christ’ sake – pops his head out of the wardrobe into the cabin to see if whoever called for him left, then turns back to Stede.

‘Yep. Blackbeard. That’s me.’

Stede, still holding the stupid fucking pants, openly gapes. He thinks for a split second that he should be careful what he says next, how he acts – he knows the man in front of him is incredibly dangerous. But he doesn’t feel it. So it doesn’t matter.

‘But I just asked you, and you said you work for him.’

Ed. Short for Edward fucking Teach.

He vaguely remembers seeing all that leather surrounded by smoke before he lost consciousness, Ed’s voice saying I’ve heard all about you.

‘Techincally, that’s not not true, you know,’ Ed says, and he looks a bit smug. Like he’s proud of his little trick. ‘You could say that being Blackbeard is my job.’

This man is incredibly peculiar, Stede thinks. He grips his pants tighter, which Ed seems to notice.

‘Since you already got up, even though really, you should take it easy, or your guts will spill out, take it from someone who’s been stabbed countless times before, you probably want to get dressed, I’ll leave you to it–’

And Ed starts to get out of the auxiliary closet, but then he turns back.

‘Wear those pants, the colour’s gorgeous.’ And, to Stede's absolute dismay, Ed winks at him.

Left alone in his secret closet, Stede thinks that any rational man would probably at least entertain the possibility that Blackbeard would lock him in said secret closet and steal his crew and ship – but then, Ed was so kind, and he could have killed Stede in his sleep anyway if he would have so desired, so the thought passes so fleetingly through Stede’s mind that it leaves behind no trace.

Stede does indeed put on the pants, and a white shirt and the black cravat, because he felt the need for something to counterbalance the redness of his flesh where the noose had choked him.

He barely stepped out of the closet when Ed turns from looking up at the chandeliers.

‘What other cool stuff do you have in here?’

So Stede shows Blackbeard his library.

Stede has a feeling, the moment an unknown man, with incredibly kind, large brown eyes wakes him up from his feverish nightmare. He feels, more than he thinks, that of course, this is exactly the way it should be. If it had been Lucius or Olwande sitting on his bed, warning him not to get up too fast lest his guts spill out, he would have felt disappointed, and he would not for the life of him been able to pinpoint exactly why. But Ed, who works for Blackbeard, and who looks exactly like someone who would work for Blackbeard, assures him that he might be a decent pirate since the Spanish didn’t manage to kill him yet, and takes an interest to Stede’s best robe and he can’t tell silk from cashmere but he keeps rubbing it between his fingers, and Stede knows nothing about this man, and the part of him that has been reading pirate stories all his life yells that it might be a trap, they are pirates, for fuck’s sake, they screw each other over all the time, he could be lying for all you know and your crew is either dead or imprisoned and you’re this close to being thrown overboard – but it’s such a distant tirade, and Stede can barely hear it over the sound of his robe rustling between Ed’s fingers, and he’s been dying to tell someone just how much fun he’s had while having the Revenge built.

So really, it’s no choice at all.

‘Can you keep a secret?’

It turns out that pirates do lie and do screw other people over, even if it’s such for a bit of fun – Ed says No, I’m Blackbeard, and Stede thinks Christ alive, did I really bring the actual Blackbeard into my auxiliary closet that nobody but us knows about and showed him my fucking summer linens, how has this become my life, and stares in horror at the back of Ed’s head, at the unruly mess of salt and pepper curls, and thinks of the worst. But Ed shows no sign of it meaning anything at all – doesn’t call back to whomever it was that was looking for him, and doesn’t start laughing at Stede –

In seconds, quick as silver, the two images in Stede’s head become one – this is Blackbeard, he knows he is, just as he knows he’s not in any real danger, just as he knows the sparkle he saw in Ed’s eye when he opened the secret door was real.

He’ll never look at him and think Blackbeard. That word still conjures up the fantasy version of Black Pete’s stories, the one in his books, the smoke and the glowing eyes and the nine pistols, and the ruthlessness and bloodthirst. That Blackbeard has never had anything to do with his Ed, the man that woke him up and seemed thrilled with all of Stede’s idiosyncrasies, from his clothes to his two chandeliers and his books. In this world, it’s one of his biggest failings – he’s never been able to look at Edward Teach and see what he should have seen. What his crew saw. What Izzy had tried so hard to preserve. He had taken one look at the man and Stede, in his feverish, incredibly embarrassed state, hadn’t seen the leather and the tattoos and the years upon years of having the sea as a home, he saw kind eyes, he felt a warm hand, and he didn’t meet Blackbeard, he met a man that made the simple act of breathing easier.

#ofmd ficlet #ofmd fic #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #going back to their very roots<3 #wrote this as a warm up to get into the feel of it #sometimes i just like dipping into stede's head. i think it's fascinating in there.#the way he perceives ed is so <333 to me #my writing #my fics #our flag means death #mine.txt #ofmd #ed teach #stede bonnet

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vickyvicarious · 11 months

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Last night the Count asked me in the suavest tones to write three letters, one saying that my work here was nearly done, and that I should start for home within a few days, another that I was starting on the next morning from the time of the letter, and the third that I had left the castle and arrived at Bistritz. I would fain have rebelled, but felt that in the present state of things it would be madness to quarrel openly with the Count whilst I am so absolutely in his power; and to refuse would be to excite his suspicion and to arouse his anger. He knows that I know too much, and that I must not live, lest I be dangerous to him; my only chance is to prolong my opportunities. Something may occur which will give me a chance to escape. I saw in his eyes something of that gathering wrath which was manifest when he hurled that fair woman from him. He explained to me that posts were few and uncertain, and that my writing now would ensure ease of mind to my friends; and he assured me with so much impressiveness that he would countermand the later letters, which would be held over at Bistritz until due time in case chance would admit of my prolonging my stay, that to oppose him would have been to create new suspicion. I therefore pretended to fall in with his views, and asked him what dates I should put on the letters.

Not to quote almost the entire entry at y'all, but... Last night, the Count asked this. So the evening of the same day that Jonathan viewed the broken doorframe and found absolute proof that his fears are indeed true, that his sanity is intact and the nightmare is real.

I made a somewhat premature post yesterday talking about how it was sad that Jonathan's words about "acting accordingly" with this confirmation are disproven or at least made very sad by the long gap following this entry. That it proves he can't think of any safe actions to take in the face of this increased threat, that he hardly even tries out of fear of making things even worse, and so his only possible action is to wait. But I'd somehow forgotten this entry happened immediately after, and it makes the buildup to that decision even worse.

First and most obviously, in that it gives Jonathan a definite timeline. (Well, as definite as can be, if you subscribe to him losing track of time - that would make things even worse for him.) On the one hand, he can presume that hopefully he will live that long, but on the other he's almost guaranteed not to live beyond that time, at least if circumstances don't change.

But also... last night. Jonathan didn't even get a single day to consider a new plan of action before he was forced into another tense moment of having to decide 'play along or not'. And he hesitates this time! This newest demand is so blatant and so huge that Jonathan almost breaks! This is apparent both in the "I would fain have rebelled..." line but also in the line following Jonathan's justifications for not rebelling in the end. I've bolded it above. Dracula starts to get angry.

Dracula started out this conversation in his "suavest tones." He usually gets extra charming when trying to get Jonathan to agree to some new restriction, so that's nothing new. And usually Jonathan plays it smart and goes along with it. He did now too, in the end. But he hesitated this time, probably wrestling back his fear and outrage long enough to think through all the reasons he gives above not to speak up. He waits long enough that Dracula starts to get mad. He knows Jonathan knows, and knows Jonathan knows he knows. That's been true since the beginning, and usually the layers of fear and knowledge are fun for Dracula to the point that he seems to savor them. But this time he saw that he had almost pushed too far too soon. He saw Jonathan teetering on the edge of ruining everything, of admitting the truth and forcing an end to this delicious anticipatory game, and he started to get pissed off about it. Sure, he carried on through the conversation, kept assuring "with much impressiveness" but the fact that he had to annoyed him greatly. He knows Jonathan knows, which means that Jonathan should know better. The whole fun is that he does know better usually. Dracula doesn't want this to end, was very firm just a couple days ago that he isn't done with his Jonathan yet; if Jonathan were to say "no" to him that would end it, and he would immediately take out his anger and frustration on him. (Dracula voice: "no one takes my Jonathan time away from me. I'd kill anyone who tried, even Jonathan himself!")

Jonathan is able to read the signs appropriately; and honestly, I think that he very definitively saves his life by agreeing. I think that if he had refused to write the letters, or even resisted a bit longer, he would have been a goner. I think that he is well aware of that too.

Dracula's violence threatened to turn on him today, more so than ever before. Immediately after Jonathan confirmed the Count is his only safety from the vampire ladies threatening him elsewhere in the castle, it almost ceased to matter as he nearly failed to adapt fast enough to avoid this threat. And then he has to salvage the situation, and he does, but the risk is so huge. The sense of barely-averted danger (death) so strong.

If Jonathan were in a different headspace, if he'd been given more time to prepare, maybe he would be able to sneak in some kind of cry for help into his letters. Sure, they're not going to be posted until the relevant dates so it might not matter anyway, but it would be worth a try and I think he would try. But right now? I'm not sure that he would have the ability to think clearly enough, filled with panicked adrenaline and fear as he must be. And Jonathan doesn't mention it, but I feel it quite likely that Dracula would insist on him writing the letters right then, under his watchful eye. Jonathan might be too afraid to push his luck enough to even try anything beyond using a different tone than usual (short, to the point, just what Dracula wants but nothing more).

And again, this is all right on the heels of confirming that he isn't safe anywhere here, not even when Dracula is gone. The Count is in fact keeping him safe from greater dangers. His enemies have quadrupled in number (at least, who knows if there are even more monsters here). They all have a variety of supernatural abilities he doesn't know how to counter. They want to drink his blood. He hasn't really had time to process any of this.

If he isn't safe when alone (except partially during daylight), then he can't explore freely. If they can move through windows and break doors, their strength and magical abilities mean he can't barricade himself away from them anywhere. If he displeases Dracula then he is lost. If he acts out he will displease Dracula. Even if he isn't setting his sights as high as escaping anymore, even if he only wants to learn more to record in his diary. Right now, Jonathan is having trouble thinking of a way to even do that much safely. As far as he can see, there's nothing he can do but wait for some kind of opportunity.

And he can only wait so long. He now knows the span of his life.

#dracula daily #jonathan harker #dracula daily spoilers #also heartbreaking: last night. but he's writing today. sure it could be just late in the night knowing dracula #but also maybe jonathan was too dispirited and miserable to even write it down for a good few hours. i am picturing him just #laying in bed staring blankly at a wall. sitting down to write and then unable to pick up the pen #as though doing so will seal his fate. even though he knows it's too late for him he just can't take that step immediately

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yournecessaryevil · 5 months

Text

💊 Sick From The Melt 💊

💀CHRIS MOTIONLESS X READER ONESHOT💀

Everyone knows he's got the voice of an absolute angel, some might even say a siren, perhaps. But what happens when Chris suddenly ends up sick and that voice can no longer be heard...?

• fluff; language; mentions of illness

"I'm telling you, there's something off about him today."

You heaved a sigh, trying hard to ignore the raised eyebrow you were currently receiving from Ricky, as the two of you sat across from each other at one of the tables in Starbucks.

"I mean, he didn't even move when I told him we were stopping here to grab some coffee. He almost never says no to Starbucks," the guitarist continued, throwing a glance over his shoulder towards the front windows, where you both could see the bus parked across the street.

"There's nothing off about him, maybe he just wanted to sleep in today, be lazy?" you argued. But you knew even as you said it that it was a lie. Ricky had made a fair point; in the short time you'd been touring with the band, you'd noticed a few things about each member.

Ricky refused to wait for late people, he couldn't stand them. He was also a bit of a perfectionist, not so unlike the band's lead vocalist, Chris. The two of them put together could be an absolute nightmare, sometimes. Justin had taken on sort of the "dad" role of the group occasionally, many a time without even realizing it.

Both Ryan and Vinny were pretty chill people to work with, and if you had to admit it, you found that Ryan wasn't actually as intimidating as you had first thought. And there had been many a night where Vinny's good sense of humor had helped save what would have otherwise been a very long, stressful road trip.

You had also learned within the first week that Chris did indeed love his coffee as much as the band's guitarist had implied. There were a few mornings where the two of you would be up and about much earlier than any of the other band members, so you and Chris would either stay in and make your own coffee, or go out and get coffee together.

It had become a sort of routine, a daily ritual of sorts, for the two of you.

Which was why you knew, deep down, that Ricky's suspicions might actually be correct.

Maybe there was indeed something off about Chris today.

"You know I'm right, I can see it," the guitarist pointed out, echoing your inner thoughts.

With another sigh, you nodded in agreement, your gaze drifting for a moment to rest behind Ricky's left shoulder, on the tour bus still parked and waiting across the street.

"I mean, you saw how he looked, right? He looks like he hasn't gotten any sleep since two days ago," Ricky continued quietly.

Your eyes shifted to meet his, before you let your gaze drop, staring down at the steaming paper cup of coffee clutched between your hands.

He was right again; the brief glimpse you had gotten of Chris before the two of you had left... there had been something different about him.

He did indeed look like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep in a while. But you had assumed he'd be fine, nothing a long nap wouldn't cure, really.

"Maybe it's just the stress of touring, I don't know. I don't really want to think of anything worse right now, do you?" you answered softly.

Ricky offered you a rueful smile, nodding in agreement before taking a sip of his coffee and getting up from the table. "Here, come on, let's get back before they get on our asses, yeah? I think we've kept 'em waiting long enough," he spoke up, with another gentle smile.

With a nod, you got up, following him out of the coffee shop and across the street, towards the tour bus. Hopefully things would start looking up, and soon...

"You sure you're gonna be okay out there? You look like death warmed over," you remarked. Chris waved you off with a rather weak smile, shrugging in response. "I'll be fine," he replied, before closing his eyes and letting you finish with his stage makeup.

When you were done, you stood back, admiring your work before watching Chris as he struggled to get up from the chair. A gentle frown marred your features as you continued to watch him, wincing as Chris suddenly went into a brief coughing fit before he disappeared into the back room to retrieve something.

Ricky's suspicions had definitely proven correct; there was something wrong with Chris.

The vocalist seemed weaker than usual the past few days, and you might be mistaken, but you could swear that his voice was fading, too. He also didn't seem to have as much energy or enthusiasm for things as he usually did.

It was a drastic change from the Chris you'd grown to know and love over the past couple of months you'd spent touring with the band.

Something was definitely wrong.

His words almost an exact mirroring of your inner thoughts, you suddenly heard Vinny speak up.

"Dude, he's been in there for a while, it's too quiet, something's up."

"Like what was up with the laundry?" someone asked, earning a round of laughter from the group. Vinny waved them all off with a scoff, although even from here, you could see the poorly concealed grin on his face.

Still, maybe he was right, maybe someone should go check on the lead vocalist...

"Guys, I'll be right back, hold on," you spoke up, heading towards the back room. The trace of a smile you still wore from moments earlier now vanished the instant you stepped foot into the room.

Your eyes widened as you took in the unmoving figure lying prone on the floor, an unopened bottle of water resting a few feet away from his hand. Your heart thundering in your chest, you threw a panicked glance over your shoulder, locking eyes with Ricky, who frowned.

"Call the paramedics! Now!" you told him, your voice trembling. You didn't even wait to hear his response; turning back around, you dropped to your knees beside Chris, grabbing ahold of his wrist and checking for a pulse.

It was still there, sure, but it seemed weaker than normal, or perhaps that was just your imagination...?

"Chris?? Can you hear me??"

Your desperate cries went unanswered, the vocalist's eyes remaining closed and his breathing shallow. Growing more anxious with every second that ticked by, you reached out with both hands, grabbing ahold of one of Chris's shoulders and trying to shake him awake.

"Chris! Please! You can't-"

"Hey, stop, shh," Ricky's gentle voice suddenly interrupted from your left. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him kneel down next to you, taking one of Chris's wrists and checking for a pulse, much as you had done earlier.

A frown crossed his features, and he sat there, studying Chris for a moment, before releasing his friend's wrist and turning his attention towards you.

"Did he collapse when you walked in here, or was he already like this?" the guitarist asked softly. You felt hot tears forming at the corners of your eyes, making no effort to wipe them away as they slipped down your cheeks.

"He... he was like this when I came in here, I f-found him, he- he-" you couldn't even string a full sentence together anymore, your breath was coming out in quick, trembling gasps.

"Okay, hey, shh. Listen to me, Y/N. I want you to do me a favor. I want you to go and wait out there with the guys, yeah? Can you do that for me?" Ricky asked. You locked eyes with him then, giving him a minute shake of your head.

"No, what about Chris-" you began, but the guitarist shook his head at you, cutting you off with a gentle smile. "Don't worry about Chris. I want you to go wait for us, I'll take care of everything," he reassured you.

Taking your hand in his, he helped you up off the floor, leading you out of the room, but not before you threw one last worried glance over your shoulder at Chris.

"Paramedics are on their way, about ten minutes out," someone informed Ricky quietly. He nodded, leading you over to one of the couches in the room, giving you a gentle push on the shoulders to sit down.

"Here, just... stay here for me, okay? I'm gonna go check on Chris," he said softly, offering you a rueful smile, before turning around and heading towards the back room again.

The next few minutes seemed to drag on, each second slowly blurring into the next, the guys' voices becoming muffled and unintelligible as exhaustion eventually settled in.

Before you knew it, you were lying down on your side, letting your eyes fall closed, worried thoughts of Chris and what would happen to him drifting through your mind before darkness finally closed in...

Death.

Dying, death, dead...

Wait, he wasn't dead, was he??

It certainly felt as though he had.

Every part of him ached, his throat felt like shit, and what the ever loving fuck was that annoying sound he kept hearing?

Trying to open his eyes was an entirely different struggle in itself, and the minute he'd accomplished this, he instantly wished he hadn't.

Everything was... too bright, too clean and white and... wrong, somehow.

A low groan tore itself free from his raw, aching throat, followed by the softest of gasps from somewhere on his right.

"Chris?"

Wait a minute. He knew that voice.

He'd recognize it anywhere, she'd only been touring with them for a few months now, but he'd know the sound of her voice anywhere.

Y/N...

It seemed to take every ounce of energy he had left in him for Chris to turn his head to the right, just enough to see the figure sitting beside him.

"Y/N-" he began, struggling to get the words out. But he stopped short upon hearing the sound of his own voice. Or rather, the lack, thereof.

It was no more than a whisper, worse than he'd ever heard it.

Something was wrong.

Something was very wrong.

"Don't... don't talk. They said you need to be put on vocal rest..." Y/N told him quietly.

He could hear the worry in her voice, see it on her face.

"How long?" he breathed, unsure if she'd be able to hear him.

"The doctors said it could be days, maybe weeks, given the amount of shit your throat's been put through," came Ricky's voice, from somewhere near the foot of the bed.

Only then did it fully register with Chris just where exactly he was.

He'd been admitted to a hospital-?

What the fuck even happened??

"What hap-" he started, but he couldn't even get the rest of the words out, his throat was fucking killing him.

"Ricky, what was it they said he had?" Y/N asked, looking towards the foot of the bed.

His bandmate slowly came into view then, taking a seat beside Y/N and tiredly running a hand through his hair.

"You have what they called a bronchial infection. So... as far as any future shows go, we're gonna have to cancel," Ricky answered.

Almost immediately, Chris shook his head in protest, a frown marring his features.

"We can't-" he started, but his bandmate held up a finger to silence him.

"Chris, man. You can't sing. You can barely talk, what do you think's gonna happen if we put you out there on that stage? You're only gonna cause further damage to your throat. No, you need to rest, we'll figure something out," he said, exchanging a glance with Y/N.

She reached out then, taking one of his hands in hers.

"Chris, you... you collapsed in the back room of the venue. I thought- I thought maybe that was it," she whispered.

"Anyway, Ricky's right," she continued, her gaze dropping to stare down at their entwined hands, "you need some rest. The fans will understand, you know they will. Your health is more important right now."

"Look, Ryan and Justin have already reached out to the venue's manager and kinda told them what happened. We'll issue a refund for this part of the tour, and for the next few dates too. Right now, you just need to give your voice a break, man," Ricky added.

"We could always get Ashes to cover your guys' portion of the show, or the guys from Omens. You know they always draw a big crowd," Y/N quietly interjected. In his periphery, Chris saw his bandmate nod in agreement.

"Exactly, they'll cover us for the time being, I'm sure Noah's got no issues with it," he agreed.

So that was it, then?

They would just, what, decide all of this without hearing his input on things??

Ever observant, Y/N was quick to notice the expression on Chris's face.

"You know I'm right, please... you can't- I don't- I don't want you causing further damage, I don't want you hurting yourself more-" she said softly.

The pleading look in those eyes of hers, it could have broken him down right then and there.

This was really it, then. They were serious, she was serious about all of this...

A weary, broken sigh managed to slip through the cracks before he could stop it, and Y/N offered him a sympathetic smile in response.

"I know. But... it's only a few weeks, yeah? We can make it that long, right?"

We.

She really cared more than he thought she would, didn't she?

Something about the way she looked at him now, the determination in her eyes, the way her hand remained tightly clasped in his, like she was fighting to keep it together for everybody, for him-

It was something to be admired, really.

Another sigh, this time in weary resignation, as Chris finally nodded.

"Alright. Then it's done. You're on mandatory vacation for the next few weeks, along with the rest of us," Ricky spoke up, trying to lighten the mood a little.

By some miracle, it seemed to work, a faint smile flickering across Chris's face before it was gone.

"Do you want anything? Tea? Water?" Y/N asked softly, her brows furrowing in concern.

He answered her with a weak shake of his head, instead giving her hand the tightest squeeze he could manage at the moment.

"Stay."

That one word took every bit of effort he had, clawing its way out of his throat in a strangled half-whisper.

And yet, she still heard it, answering him with a silent nod and a reassuring (albeit faltering) smile.

Y/N did indeed stay, up until Chris found his eyes falling closed again, the physical and mental exhaustion becoming too much for him.

But before the welcoming waves of unconsciousness set in, he could have sworn he heard Y/N whisper something to him, something that sounded a lot like "I'll stay as long as you need me..."

Oh, if only she knew...

If only she knew just how much he needed her...

"Chris, I made you some- oh."

Startled, the lead vocalist cast a quick look over his shoulder at you, a somewhat guilty expression on his face.

Behind him, displayed on the still open screen of Ricky's laptop, was a video taken from a show Omens had put on two nights ago.

A show that Motionless was supposed to have played.

"It's only been a week, Chris. You... you can't keep doing this to yourself," you gently admonished him, crossing the room to bring him his cup of tea.

A rueful sort of smile etched itself onto his face, his eyes darting back to the screen for a minute before settling on yours again.

"I miss it," the words came out in a mumbled whisper.

You returned his rueful smile with one of your own, as you settled down on the seat beside him, resting your head on his shoulder.

"I know... I miss it too. I miss seeing you guys perform, I miss seeing the look in your eyes every time you take that stage," you murmured.

You knew he missed it, it was what he'd devoted most of his entire life to, it was one of the things he was most passionate about.

His music was a part of himself, and now that he didn't have it, Chris just seemed... at a complete loss.

It'd only been a week since he'd been released from the hospital, on the condition that he would take better care of himself and continue to be put on vocal rest until things were looking up again.

An entire week of staying in at an AirBnB you and the guys had taken the liberty of renting, an entire week of nothing but warm soup, hot tea, and lots of ice cold water.

It'd also been an entire week of Chris sneaking away with Ricky's laptop any chance he could get, practicing a sort of devotional commitment to watching any bit of media he could feed on, so long as it pertained to that week's tour.

A tour he should have been a part of...

On more than one occasion, you'd had to enlist Ricky's help with keeping Chris distracted, trying to keep his attention away from the source of both his joy and (unfortunately) current disappointment.

Today hadn't been one of those days; Ricky happened to be out when you needed him most.

But that was alright; maybe if this is what would help Chris feel like he was still a part of things, then... maybe it was for the best?

"Only a few more weeks, and then you'll be back up there, causing the crowd to go absolutely feral," you teased him, lightly nudging him with your elbow.

He gave you a look then, one perfect eyebrow raising, before he made a face at you.

"Oh, come on, you know I'm right," you grinned, trying not to laugh as you reached out towards Ricky's laptop, closing out the video and queuing up a new one.

This particular video was one that had quickly gone viral the minute it'd been posted, making the rounds on every popular social media site.

The video in question?

It was a video of Chris doing rather... suggestive... things with the microphone stand during a performance of their song "Werewolf".

You couldn't help but giggle as you nodded towards the screen.

"See? Only a few more weeks and then we can all enjoy that again," you teased him.

A quick glance up at him, and you just barely caught him giving you a roll of his eyes, although even he couldn't hide the smirk on his face.

"You people..." he whispered, shaking his head, though the smirk never left. As he took a sip of his tea, he reached forward and closed out the video still playing on the screen, a gentle sigh slipping past his parted lips.

"Only a few more weeks..." he repeated in a whisper. He took another small sip of tea, the silence between you two becoming almost something of a comfort- until he broke it.

"Can I ask you something?" Chris suddenly murmured, his voice still slightly hoarse from disuse.

You nodded, watching as he set his cup of tea down on the table in front of him, though his fingertips remained on its ceramic surface, toying with the rim of the cup as he gathered his thoughts.

"Rick- Rick said something to me the day after we had left the hospital, and it's been on my mind ever since. He told me that when I was admitted that night, when you found me like that- you refused to leave my side..."

He wouldn't look at you, his gaze instead fixed on that cup, his fingertips still lightly tracing the rim.

"He said that you hardly slept for those first few hours. And when we were getting ready to leave, he told me that he thinks you might be falling in love with me..." he continued.

Fuck... you'd had a feeling this moment was coming, and yet here you sat, completely unprepared for it.

You swallowed hard, the silence between you and Chris slowly growing more tense with each second that ticked by.

You could feel him watching you now, but you kept your eyes fixed in front of you, staring at the 'Esc' key on Ricky's laptop keyboard.

Ha... if only you could escape this conversation at the moment, wouldn't that be nice, right?

'Wishful thinking', your subconscious sneered at you.

You sighed, your eyes falling closed for a moment as you tried to gather your wits about you, until you felt Chris take one of your hands in his.

Your eyes flew open, meeting his, the solemn look on his face only making you more nervous.

"Tell me he's wrong...?" Chris prompted you in a whisper.

You took a deep breath in, letting it out in a sharp exhale, before answering him.

"Do you want him to be wrong?"

You could manage no more than a quiet murmur, your heart racing as you waited to hear his response.

There was a long beat of silence before Chris finally answered you, his gaze softening.

"No. I don't think I do."

Slowly, you nodded, your gaze dropping to land momentarily on your hand, still clasped within Chris's.

"He's right. I... I never meant for it to happen, I just- things became so easy, too easy. And these past few months, it just feels like it's been so much longer, but in a good way...? A very good way? And then you've been so nice to me, and I told myself I wouldn't fall for you, I can't, it's not right, I wouldn't do it..." you began to ramble.

"And then you did," Chris cut in softly.

"And then I did," you repeated, heaving a sigh.

"And now?" he breathed.

"And now I don't have a single fucking clue where it puts us," you answered.

"Chris, I'm scared. I- I don't know what comes next," you added in a solemn, trembling whisper, turning to stare up at him with wide eyes.

He gave your hand a gentle squeeze, before reaching out with his other hand to lightly brush his fingertips along your cheek.

"That's okay. Because I do," he spoke softly, one corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile.

You waited anxiously, your heart thumping a steady, nervous staccato within the confines of your ribcage.

"You stayed. In the hospital, you stayed. These past few months, you never left, you stayed with me. Why?" he asked.

You kept your gaze steady on his, determined not to let him see just how badly he affected you, how nervous you were.

"You know why," you answered, your throat suddenly feeling dry.

He nodded, giving your hand another squeeze, his other hand now resting against the side of your face, keeping your attention on him.

"I do know. But I need to hear you say it."

Your heart thundered once, twice, in your chest, before you finally gathered up the courage to answer him.

"Why?" he repeated.

"Because I love you," you whispered.

And there it was.

The truth, the entirety of it, all encompassed within those four little words.

Because you loved him.

And you did... truly, madly, deeply.

You loved him more than you felt you ought to, more than you were probably supposed to.

Nothing would ever change that; nothing would change how close you and Chris had become the past few months, nothing would change the time you had spent by his side in that hospital room, waiting for him to recover.

"How long?" Chris suddenly spoke up.

You sighed in resignation, your brows furrowing as you offered him a rather rueful smile.

"A while. Since that first morning when you snuck me out of the bus with you to go and get coffee..." you admitted.

You took notice of the way one corner of Chris's mouth lifted in a smirk, his gaze growing soft.

"That long?" he teased.

You nodded, trying (and failing) to hide a faint grin.

"Always," you answered.

A moment of silence passed, before Chris suddenly pulled you into his warm embrace, circling his arms around you and holding you close to him.

You felt him rest his cheek against the top of your head, heard him loose a barely audible sigh of content.

"You could've told me sooner, you know. I think I sort of knew from the beginning," he murmured.

There was a brief pause before he continued.

"You were this little 5'-something with raw energy, no filter whatsoever, and you just... immediately fit right in. Everyone fucking loved you."

"Did you?" you couldn't stop yourself before it slipped out.

You could feel him smile against the top of your head, could hear it in his voice when he answered you.

"I did, yeah. Even tried to lie to myself and say that I wouldn't. But I did. It was just like you said, so easy. Weeks and months flew by, and then we had one of our first big headlining shows, and I think at that point... I knew.

"The way you fucking smiled at me before we went on, and then we came back after the show, and you were already standing there waiting for us, for me... I don't think I'll ever forget the way you looked at me that night."

"Looked at you... how?" you asked on a whisper.

"Like I was the only one in that break room. I've never seen you look at my bandmates the way you look at me. It's different, somehow. More... intimate, I guess?" Chris answered softly.

"Anyway, I think the guys noticed pretty quickly how much of my time I started spending with you. At least I think they noticed; they always seemed to come up with excuses and reasons for you and I to have time alone together," he continued.

Fuck. It all made sense now.

Why Ricky had been so calm that night, when you'd found Chris passed out on the floor.

Why anytime you and the guys were loading up or unpacking for a show, they'd ask you to see if Chris needed anything, to "go tell Chris everything's ready", "go find Chris".

They knew? All of them?

They knew, of course they did...

He knew.

Hell, he'd said it himself, he'd known from the beginning, he'd always known, that you loved him.

You shifted in Chris's embrace, and he lifted his head to meet your questioning gaze.

"If you knew from the beginning, then why...?" you trailed off in a confused murmur.

His answering smile made your insides flutter, made your heart stutter, the singular beats tripping over one another before they corrected themselves.

"Why'd I wait so long to tell you? I was hoping you'd pick up on it and say something before I did. But then months went by without you saying anything, and I guess I thought I'd been fucking hallucinating the entire thing all this time.

"And then that night in the hospital when Rick told me everything, I just... I knew I had to tell you, before someone better would come along and steal your heart like I wanted to, like I still want to..." Chris said softly.

You could feel the tears pricking behind your eyes, and you swallowed hard, fighting to keep them at bay, to hold yourself together in front of him.

It seemed a rather monumental task, one you failed miserably.

Chris reached out, gently brushing away the stray tear that had slipped free and spilled down your cheek.

"Y/N. I love you too," he whispered.

This was all suddenly too much, too fast- what were you supposed to do now, what-

"What do I-?" you started in a trembling gasp, Chris silencing you with a shake of the head and a gentle smile.

"All you have to do is say yes," he breathed.

It couldn't really be that easy...

Could it?

One little word is all it would take, and just like that, you'd be his, and-??

"Yes."

That one word, that singular syllable, came delivered on a trembling breath, your heart pounding furiously against your ribcage, as if fighting to work itself free.

The answering smile that lit up Chris's face, those warm brown eyes and the way they seemed to brighten a shade or two, it told you all you needed to know.

You'd made the right decision, an easy one.

Only... it had always been this easy, hadn't it?

All you or Chris would have needed was for one or the other to just... speak up.

Say something.

Say everything.

Whatever happened next would depend once again on you and Chris, but this time, it would be ever so simple.

Because he loved you as much as you loved him.

He always had....

"I'm telling you, we only have five minutes left before we go out there, are you sure you're ready for this?"

It was only the third time his bandmate and closest friend had asked him this, and as much as he wanted to be annoyed, Chris couldn't bring himself to feel anything beyond... thrilled.

This was it, what he'd wanted.

Things were finally back on track, those last remaining weeks had seemed to fly by, almost too fast.

Weeks he'd spent curled up by Y/N's side, refusing to leave her just as much as she'd refused to leave him that night.

Which meant, of course, that within the span of only one day, his bandmates and the rest of their crew had figured out he and Y/N were together.

'Fucking finally!' his subconscious shouted at him, rather smug.

Chris couldn't help the grin that found its way onto his face now, as he stood there with his bandmates, ready and waiting to go out and do what he loved, what he'd been born to do.

He cast one final look over his shoulder at Y/N, her eyes meeting his as she gave him that look, the one she reserved for him and only him.

As the seconds ticked by, the crowd waiting outside only grew louder, and he wasn't quite sure if she'd be able to hear his shout of "I love you!", but fuck, she had heard it-!

And when she mouthed the words back at him and waved him off to go up on stage-

He'd remember this night for a long fucking time, he knew it as much as she did.

That night, as he took the stage with a proud grin on his face, he cast another final look over his shoulder, at the girl waiting for him in the wings, his girl...

And he turned back to face the roar of the crowd, Y/N's earlier suggestion leaping to the forefront of his mind-

"How the fuck are we doing tonight, LA? Feels so fucking good to be back here! We have a great show for you guys tonight, and I wanna start it off with one that's been kind of close to me these past few weeks. This one's called... 'Sick From The Melt'"...

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