#and that muscle pain kept me up all night I hope I can sleep now

[bitchking-of-angmar]

I know it has been said, but man, as a first time covid experiencer, can't recommend. and they gave me the mild stuff I hear

[desi2go]

Sick days

pairing: sick!Hyunjin x reader

Warnings: fluf

Summary: You imagined your day off differently. But taking care of your sick boyfriend was even better.

Being with Hyunjin was like a soft breeze that played with your hair and kept the busy thoughts away from you. It was like a sunset at the beach. The bright colours were exciting but calming. Every day was a new adventure, a new story.

As a nurse, you dealt with a busy and hectic schedule and Hyunjin was always there after a long 12 hours shift to bring you comfort. Like a breeze his fingers brushed through your hair as you hid your face in his neck, trying to get the annoying smell of disinfection out of your nose.

He was your safe space. Whenever you felt down or self-conscious, he grounded you and build you up. As an idol, he always worked ambitiously to perform the best for his beloved STAY. Even though he was exhausted, he makes sure that you are okay and looked after you at the end of the day.

He texted you, that today's practice would run late and you shouldn't wait for him. You just came home from your long shift and it was already 11 pm. You hoped that he wouldn't overwork himself and come home quickly. You quickly changed out of your work clothes and jumped under the shower. Then, you cleaned the dishes from the morning due to the missing time because nearly overslept. Luckily, you had managed to get to work in time but without a breakfast.

You figured that your boyfriend would be starving when he will get home, so you ordered takeout.

You yawned and cuddled further into the couch with a blanket draped over your lap as you watched your favourite TV show again. Well, you loved to watch it with him.

Hyunjin came home in the middle of the night. The clock in the hallway said that it was long after midnight and he felt terrible. Today's practice was a pain. It seemed like everything he did was slow and forced. There wasn't the usual easy flow, the balance and the melody didn't took over his body. It didn't guide him and that was frustrating, especially since the comeback season starts soon. He must give everything and more for his friends and STAY.

After he slipped out of his shoes, he walked into the living room just to see you on the couch. Your hair that was once in a neat ponytail was now all over your face and your head leaned against his pillow that you must have stolen from the bed. He chuckled quietly and quickly showered. Then, he kneeled in front of you and brushed some hair strands out of the way. Your nose scrunched and you stirred awake.

"Hello my love. Were you waiting for me" he whispered as your sleep driven eyes blinked at him and a small smile danced over your pretty lips.

"Yeah, I ordered takeout for you" you answered and rose from your snuggly place to stretch out your sore muscles. As much as you loved that couch, that you two bought together after moving in, the bed was way more comfortable. He pecked your forehead and went to heat up the food.

You followed him and cuddled into his side as he ate his food. You were sleepy and just enjoyed the warmth of your personal human heater. From time to time he cleared his throat.

"You ok?" You asked as he did it again. "Yeah, just drank less water while practicing"

You grapped him a bottle of water and a glass. You can imagine that sport made your throat pretty dry especially when you dance for hours.

...

The next morning you woke up in an empty bed. Jinnie was already up and probably at the company. It was your day off and on those days even though you were an early riser, you sometimes enjoyed sleeping long. As a nurse, a good sleep was rare.

With a good mood you danced through the apartment and cleaned it. You checked Jinnies schedule that he had sent you in the past so that you always know where he is and can easily visit him.

Maybe you can watch him practice with his group later in the afternoon since it was a rare occasion due to work. He always loved when you support him. It only makes him more ambitious and hyped he had told you. And the other boys adored you. Especially Felix, Hyunjin's best friend or soulmate like they often state, was fascinated by you. Maybe that's because you lived until you were ten in Australia and then moved with your family to Korea.

He was also the first member Jinnie introduced you to. As his best friend, he knew from your relationship from the beginning and when he finally met you, he was even more convinced that you were the perfect match for Hyunjin.

But also Seungmin was like a brother to you. From the first moment you met the younger boy, you liked him with his cheeky attitude and the sweet toothy smile.

You figured that you should buy the whole group something to drink when you went to the studio. On the way, you stopped at a café and ordered drinks. You just sat in your car once again with the drinks on the passenger seat, when Felix called you.

"What's up, Lix?" You asked and started the car. "Are you coming to today's practice?"

"Yeah, on my way right now. Why?"

"I think Hyunjin is sick. He is totally pale and already vomited"

"I'm coming. I'll be there in 10" you answered concerned. You knew Jinnie. Whenever he is sick, he wants to keep going. He just works him to death because he won't admit that he was ill and needs to rest.

Balancing the nine cups in both hands, you managed to go through the security that already knew you and bid you politely hello and and took the elevator to the floor where the studio was. You already knew the way there after walking it hundreds of times.

In the hallway, you could already hear the music and the squeaking of the shoes. With a foot, you pushed the door open and yelled a greeting over the loud music.

Seeing the drinks in your hands, they quickly scrambled to you in no time and helped you. You spread them and you all sat down. Happily, they drank like they lived in a desert with no water at all.

They all were already sweaty and chatted.

Jinnie kneeled beside you with his americano in one hand as he layed his head against your shoulder.

"Hey baby. Is everything ... was that a shudder?"

You asked him. His clothes were wet with sweat but occasionally he shuddered like he was cold.

Concerned, you placed your drink beside you and touched his forehead to feel how warm he was. And he was warm, it felt like his skin was burning under your touch. A shudder jolted through him again.

"Are you feeling bad? Can it be that your sick Jinnie?" You asked and brushed a stray hair strand back out of his face. Your eyes danced over his pretty face. He was indeed pale.

He just shook his head and murmured that he will go to the bathroom quick. The first steps were staggering but then he felt suddenly nauseous and covered his mouth and paced through the room to get to a washroom. You had observed that and jumped up to follow him.

You found him in the bathroom, kneeling in front of the toilet, vomiting. He gagged and emptied the contents of his belly. You sat next to him and rubbed his back while his body tensed up with each gag. You brushed soothingly through his wet hair.

Drained out, he leaned against the bowl, taking shaky breaths.

"It's okay, baby." You cooed.

You helped him up after some time and he got rid of the disgusting taste in his mouth through rinsing it out. Some tears ran down his cheeks as he breathed heavily.

"Everything alright?" Chan asked as you two walked back into the room.

"You look like shit" Seungmin stated and continued sipping on his drink. "I'm okay" he answered with a hoarse voice. You scoffed and rolled your eyes.

"Definitely, you didn't just puked your guts out" you said ironically.

"I told you he was ill!" Felix shouted and rubbed your boyfriends shoulder.

"You should rest. You can't dance when you're ill" Chan told him.

"Come, let's go home and rest" You exclaimed and circled his waist with one arm.

Only after the whole group literally forced him to go home, he followed you quietly to your car. You opened the door for him and went to the driver seat to take your poor boyfriend home.

The whole drive was completely quiet as Jinnie rested his head against the window and tried not to get nauseous. He felt bad for leaving practice. With the new comeback, he didn't want to disappoint his fans, his friends and you. Especially not you. You were the most important person to him and you should be proud of him so when someone asks you about him, you should be proud to say that he was your love. That was all he wants.

As you parked the car, you turned to your boyfriend. He was still pale but the nausea seemed to fade. His eyes were closed and even though he looked exhausted, he was like an angel. So beautiful. Though with his newly red dyed hair he looked more like a devil. Just the sweet horns and the tail were missing.

You rounded the car and opened his door. His eyes fluttered open and you smiled. Like a puppy, he followed you to your apartment while you carried his bag.

Unlocking the door, you let him in and took your shoes off. You leaned his bag against the wall.

"Wanna take a shower first?" You questioned because he was still sweaty due to practise and he shouldn't catch an even worse cold. He nodded and went through the hallway to the bedroom to get some comfy new clothes. Meanwhile, you let some water in the bathtub and searched for the bath oil that helps with colds. Immediately, the bath was filled with the smell of eucalyptus and sage.

You gave your boyfriend a kiss on the cheek.

"I'll cook you something light. If anything happens just say something and I'll come" Patting his hair, you leaved the room and started looking through your refrigerator and the kitchen cabinets to see if you had all the ingredients.

Fortunately, you got everything for a chicken soup. You brew a chicken broth with the meat and in the meantime you chopped leek, carrots and celery. Then, you added them to the pan and brought the noodles to boil.

The soup was nearly finished as Hyunjin returned. He circled your waist with his arms and layed his head on his shoulder.

"What's up, baby? Feeling better?" You asked and stirred the soup another time. "Yeah, a bit. Smells great, honey"

"Thank you" He let you go as you turned around to face him. Gently, you touched his forehead to check if he got a fever. And he was indeed burning up. From a cabinet, you took a thermometer and measured his temperature.

"You have a fever, baby" you stated and send him to bed so that he could rest.

Soon, you filled a bowl with soup for him and brought it him along with some medicine against the cold.

He sat up and slowly ate the food. You hoped that he could keep it in his stomach and he didn't need to vomit from it. And he definitely shouldn't take the medication without some food in his belly.

When he was finished, he took the medicine.

"Thanks, honey" he said and gave you a tired smile.

"Wanna watch our series?" You asked and quickly brought the empty dish in the kitchen. You will clean them later, now you wanted to spend time with your love.

He agreed and you took your laptop with you. You jumped beside him under the warm comforter and placed the laptop next to you. You started your current kdrama and cuddled further into the cushion.

Some time passed and Jinnie still held some distance to you. Usually, he would be all over you by now. Slightly, you turned your head and observed your boyfriend. His entire body was under the comforter with only his head out and concentrated on the screen.

"Everything alright?" You asked and he turned his attention to you.

"Yeah, just a bit cold"

You lifted your arm and signalled him to come to you so that you could function as his personal heater.

He shook his head and murmured. "Don't wanna infect you"

You heart swelled at how he still looked out for you. A loving smile danced over your lips.

"Come honey, can't let you freeze. I'll heat you up" Finally, he came closer and layed his head on your chest while his hands caressed your hips.

You touched his forehead to check if his fever was still high. But the medicine seemed to finally kick in. Then, you let your hands travel to his red dyed hair and combed through the silky strands.

He sighed and closed his eyes, enjoying the physical contact.

"I'm sorry" he mentioned after some time. "What?"

"I'm sorry for ruining your day off. You already have enough patients to care for"

"No! You didn't ruin anything!" You held his head in your hands and caressed his cheeks.

"I love to take care of you. In fact, I love to pamper you"

"I love you" he answered and let his hands run up your sides.

"I love you too" you told him and placed a loving peck on his forehead.

[padfootagain]

Only an Almost (XII)

Chapter 12: First Light

Hi! Here is another chapter… and it is a lot. I know it’s a lot. Rollercoaster kind of chapter. I’m (not) sorry.

I hope you’ll like this chapter! Please, tell me what you think!

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

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader, friends with benefits AU

Warning: No explicit smut or nsfw content, but there are sexual themes and heavy make-out sessions (it’s a friends with benefits AU, I can’t really escape it), so 18+ only!

Summary: Andrew has been in love with you for years, and yet he has never confessed his feelings. But a night out celebrating the engagement of his best friend changes everything. However, you don't seem ready to be with him just yet. You make him an offer that he can't refuse... but will certainly regret.

Word Count : 2044

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s Masterlist – Main Masterlist

That was the moment of the evening when Andrew should have left.

You were both lying quietly in your bed, you wearing an old t-shirt, and him only his boxers. Under the covers. Holding each other in a comfortable silence. You were ready to go to sleep, he should have gotten up by now, grabbed his clothes and silently gotten dressed. He would have kissed your cheek before leaving. You would have offered him a grin, and a tender caress on his cheek. And then, he would have left you lying in bed, while he hurried to put on his shoes and jacket. He would have checked that he had his wallet, his keys, and closed the door behind him. Driven across the countryside for a little over twenty minutes. Entered his empty home, changed to his plaid pyjamas and gone to bed alone. He would have wondered what you looked like when you woke up. Would have imagined you in his arms as he tried to sleep. He wouldn’t have managed to rest, would have gotten up, eventually. Made a strong coffee, headed to the room he used as a homemade studio, and written some songs about you. About how he dreamed of you. How you were the one holding his world together. How he would still go through all this pain just to have you for real, just once. How he didn’t regret it, in the end. How he loved you, even if you didn’t. He would have fallen asleep on his chair, bent over his desk, woken by an empty stomach or a bright sun.

Instead, he wanted to stay tonight, and it was set in the new rules. He could.

His question was whispered, he almost hoped you wouldn’t hear him, so he could merely remain lying down like this, with you, in bed, not moving a muscle, and perhaps he could just stay if he remained motionless…

“Can I stay tonight?”

You didn’t say anything at first, but you weren’t angry. You kept on tracing the same mindless patterns on the skin of his stomach.

“Are you too tired to drive?”

“No, I can leave if you want. I just… I just want to stay.”

He felt your eyes closing, felt the brush of your eyelashes against his chest.

“Stay then.”

He tried to be discreet as he heaved a relieved sigh. You kissed his skin, right above his nipple. It made him shiver in the best way.

“Good night, Andy.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

He inhaled deeply the scent of your hair. It was the last thing he remembered before he was lost to slumber.

So, that was what you looked like in a sunrise.

Orange shades splayed on your skin, caught in your eyelashes. Your hair messy, and he loved it. Your eyelids moved to the rhythm of unknown dreams and he hoped they were peaceful and sweet. He watched you sleeping like this, lying on his side, cheek smudged into a pillow that smelled like you. You would soon wake, your peaceful expression was changing already. Still, he took in every second of it.

You blinked your eyes open, but closed them again. He brushed a strand of your hair behind your ear, let his knuckles linger across your cheek, softly caressing your skin. You smiled under his touch.

When you blinked your eyes open again, you didn’t close them this time.

“Hi,” you whispered, voice a little hoarse with sleep, and he adored the sound.

“Hi,” his tone was matching yours, quiet and sweet, deeper than usual.

“Slept well?”

He hummed in response and nodded, before moving closer to hold you. You let him, you even scooted over to his side of the bed.

You breathed deeply his scent, committed it to memory, the same way he was doing now with you.

“This is so nice,” you whispered into his chest.

“It is.”

“What time is it?”

“Five more minutes.”

You chuckled at that.

“You didn’t even give me the time.”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t want to get up just yet.”

“For how long have you been staring at me like some kind of creep?”

“I didn’t sleep. I just stared.”

“Weirdo.”

He chuckled, dropped a peck to the top of your head. You ran your fingers through his hair, careful with the knots that had formed during the night.

“I don’t know… ten minutes, maybe?” he answered earnestly this time.

“You could have woken me up.”

“You looked too beautiful for that.”

He felt you smiling against his skin.

“Oh, I’m sure I look sexy like that… with a bed head and puffy eyes…”

But Andrew’s voice was both serious and tender when he answered.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/N.”

I love you.

It was back on the tip of his tongue, but he didn’t say it.

You smiled, before sitting up.

“I’m starving. You want something before leaving?”

“Sure. I can make something if you want.”

You checked the time.

“Got to see my mom for lunch and have some work to do before that, I’d better hurry. But I can offer some toasts or cereals?”

“Perfect, thanks.”

You both got dressed before heading to the kitchen. He munched on an apple while talking about your plans for the day, and then his. You poured some coffee for him in a mug, placed it before him on the table. He held you close while you waited for the bread to be toasted, kissing the side of your head, arms wrapped around your waist to keep your back against his chest. You leaned into his touch, covered his arms with yours, giggled at his stupid jokes while the sun was rising, the velvet sky turning golden and blue.

And it felt so domestic. So natural, too, like you were meant to have breakfast every day together. It sounded stupid in his head, and yet he couldn’t find a better way to describe the feeling that grew in his chest, like he belonged here with you.

He lingered a little, and you hugged him as he got dressed. You didn’t run away when he kissed your lips, cradling your face in his palms. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck, gave him one last peck before he opened the door.

He felt happier than he had been in years as he stepped outside your home.

A week passed before you were back in his bed.

You were both busy. He was writing songs again, mostly about you, as per usual. You had a long week at work. It was Saturday night, he offered for you to come by. You ate a nice pasta dish he cooked for you, and then managed to hold back for half of the movie before you were all over each other…

He was holding your hand as he always did, and you were still folded into his embrace, clinging onto him. Your breathing had grown more regular again, he pulled up the sheets to cover your shivering frame.

“Can I borrow you a hair tie?” you asked, breaking the silence for the first time since your love-making.

He silently reached over his bedside table, and handed you one. You sat up to tie your hair into a messy bun. He caressed your naked back, eyes journeying down your spine. But it lasted only a few seconds, before you were standing up and looking for your clothes.

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, while you were already putting your trousers on.

“Yeah, I want to catch a good night of sleep. Had a long week.”

“You can stay if you want…”

“I’d rather go home.”

“Oh… okay…”

You were already walking towards the door before you had properly set your t-shirt around your frame.

“Tonight was nice,” you said awkwardly, and his frown deepened.

You hadn’t had that kind of meaningless chit-chat for months now. What was wrong with you?

“Erm… yeah, it was… amazing, actually,” Andrew answered automatically, trying to catch what you truly meant.

“Bye!”

“Y/N! Wait!”

He cursed under his breath, grabbing his underwear as he hurried out of his bedroom too.

He followed you through the house, until you slowed down to put on your shoes, right before his door.

“What are you doing?” he asked, but when you looked up at him you were the one who seemed puzzled.

“What do you mean? I’m going home.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Why are you in such a hurry? You… you don’t want to take a shower or…?”

“No, I’ll take one at home. Thanks.”

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, I just… I just want to go home.”

He blinked a couple of times.

“Now?” the question slipped between his lips before he could hold back the word.

“Yeah, I’m tired. And I want to have a nice night of sleep, just… relax. On my own.”

The way you added this final note made him clench his jaw.

“Alright. Drive safely then. Text me when you’re home, okay?”

You silently nodded, and he bent to kiss you… but you turned your head so he would merely peck your cheek instead of your lips.

“Good night, Andy.”

And just like that, you were gone; leaving Andrew standing there, in the hallway, staring at his own door.

What the hell was that?

There was something wrong with Daphne that afternoon.

An improvised barbecue had turned into a game of Mario Kart, which had turned into a game of Uno. It was raining outside by now, but in Sam’s and Daphne’s house, it was as warm and welcoming as usual. And yet, Daphne was a little quieter than her usual self, she kept on throwing glances your way.

Strange, to say the least…

“And I win… again!” Sam triumphantly cried, throwing his arms up in the air like a child.

“You’re no fun at games,” you mumbled grumpily, although a smile you couldn’t refrain was betraying you

“And you’re a sore loser. We should have made some bets. Make it interesting!”

“So you can steal all of our money? No, thanks,” Andrew replied with a smile.

“Says the millionaire!”

“Exactly. I am vain and greedy. You aren’t seeing my money, sir.”

“What a selfish gobshite!”

“Don’t you know it, by now?”

Daphne was remaining quiet, though, and she did for another round of the game. Finally, she stood up and asked who wanted some tea and biscuits. Andrew offered to help.

It was silent in the kitchen for a while longer, before Andrew finally asked if anything was wrong.

“Nothing, nothing…” but Daphne’s lie was obvious.

“Come on, you can tell me. Is it the wedding? Is it Sam?”

“No, no! No, Sam and I are doing great, it’s not that.”

“You… you’ve been looking at Y/N the whole time…” Andrew went on, clumsy with his words and rubbing at his neck and then his cheek. “Is she okay? Is there something wrong between the two of you?”

“No… Look, Andy, I… she wouldn’t want me to tell you.”

He raised a surprised eyebrow.

“Is Y/N okay?”

“Andy…” Daphne heaved a sigh.

“Is she okay?” he insisted, concern making his voice shake.

“Look… she talked to me, and what she said is none of your business. So, leave me alone.”

“What’s wrong with her? Is she alright? What’s going on?”

Daphne heaved a sigh, rubbed her eyes. Andrew was close to panic at this point, it seemed serious.

But then she looked up at him again. And she stared at the worry that furrowed his brow, that made his gaze searching for answers.

She heaved another sigh.

“She told me. About you and her.”

Andrew slowly nodded.

“Right…”

“You should talk. Properly talk, I mean. I think… I think she’s going to make a mistake.”

His frown only deepened.

“Why? Because you don’t want us to be together? You’ve been pushing for me to make a move for months. Years even!”

“Because… just… just talk to her, okay? Quickly. Before she acts like an idiot and lets fear decide for her.”

Another sigh, and the kettle was singing.

“Grab the teabags, would you? Make that tall body of yours useful for something else than breaking lamps…”

[oddsconvert]

My brain: make friends! Send asks! Exist in more then just your blog!

Me: but what if I'm scared of friends!?!?!

Anyway, can I request Ronan catching Issak hurting Henley?

Flowers for author. 💐💐💐💐💐

Friends!!! It's official! No being scared! <3 I am so sorry for the delay with this but I hope this ticks your boxes! :D

---

“How do you sleep at night?”

Henley stirred awake, his world a blurred mess of throbbing pain. Crusted sleep clung to his lashes, he blinked fiercely to chase away the haze. He could only just about make out a hulking silhouette looming over him. When his vision finally sharpened, he instinctively clutched his scratty blanket closer to his heaving chest - his futile shield.

Cold dread flooded Henley as he saw Izaak, free of the chains that usually rattled with every twitch of a muscle. The chains that kept Henley safe and sound, out of harm's way. Far from Izaak’s reach.  Izaak's fists were clenched so hard his knuckles were white, his face contorted in a feral snarl. Panic squeezed Henley’s chest like a vice. He was a rabbit trapped in a fox's den. 

“Wha-?” Henley’s voice was a hoarse rasp. He’s half-convinced no sound left his lips at all. 

"Oh, did I interrupt your sweet dreams, Henny?" Izaak's voice was a low growl, sending shivers trickling down Henley's spine. That nickname. The way it dripped with mocking familiarity, but years of ingrained fear hid within it. It made all the hairs on Henley’s arms stand on edge. 

Izaak suddenly lunged forward. One massive hand clamped around Henley's throat, squeezing every last drop of air from his lungs. Henley's wrists burned in protest against his chains, straining as he fought for a sliver of slack, a desperate inch to reach his throat and fight Izaak off. "You," Izaak spat, barely containing his rage, "are the reason for my suffering. The cause of my anguish. Every scar on my body has your name written on it.."

Tears pressed from beneath Henley’s eyelids, and he shook his head furiously. Passionately. No. It’s not true. He’s not responsible for this. He didn’t land them here, he didn’t start all of this. This is all Izaak’s doing. This is the price he has to pay. 

“So answer the question,” Izaak demanded, now nearly crushing Henley’s windpipe as he choked and wheezed, “How the hell do you sleep at night? No. Scratch that shit. Better yet. How do you live with yourself? After what you’ve done to me?”

“I-Izaak, pleas-”

Izaak’s fist came at Henley with such speed it was like a cannonball. It connected with a sickening crunch as Henley felt his nose cave in, and hot-white pain erupted. The force of the blow sent him sprawling, the floor rose up to meet him with a jarring thud. He lay helpless. Cool blood dripped from his nose and pooled on his lips, he could taste the metallic tang. 

“You dare call me that again, and I’ll put you six feet under this fucking cement. Understand?” Izaak seethed through gritted teeth, with spit spraying and a vein pulsing from his temple. Izaak didn’t even give him the second to respond, Henley was still reeling and seeing stars. “I SAID, “DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” he roared. 

“Yes!” Henley wailed miserably. Tears mingled with blood and dirt. He sniffed pathetically and whimpered as new pain flared through his obviously broken nose. He stayed glued to the floor. Too afraid to move, to even dare lift his head up. Henley didn’t see Izaak reaching for his long curls of hair and wrenching them in his fist. Yanking his head back, Henley’s Adam's apple bobbed against his collar as he gasped and gulped back the fear.

“‘Yes’, what?” Izaak whispered. It was hard to miss the element of enjoyment in his voice. It sounded like old times. Must feel like it to him too. 

But Henley immediately knew what he was looking for.

“Yes, sir!” Henley gasped out. There’s not a beat of hesitation. Izaak can say many things about Henley. A bad pet, he is not. 

Henley’s head smacked to the ground, his forehead banging against cold, unforgiving cement as Izaak threw him out of his hand. He’s on a warpath. He paced back and forth, contemplating what to do next. 

Izaak's foot then swung into Henley's gut. The air whooshed from Henley's lungs in a strangled scream that ripped free from his throat. The world lurched sideways, a wave of nausea crashing over him. Bile rose in his throat as pain lanced through his abdomen. Izaak unrolled Henley from his cocoon and straddled his hips, slamming his palm over Henley’s mouth, “Shut the fuck up! Don’t you dare make a sound.”

Henley obeyed. He forced himself to seal his lips, now sobbing silently and huffing through the pain. 

“You got us into this fucking mess. You deserve everything you’ve got coming to you. I’m going to make you wish you were never born-”

“I already do-” Henley croaked.

Izaak doesn’t hold back anymore. He unleashed a flurry of punches, raining blow after blow down on Henley. Henley’s already-battered body convulsed with each hit - he twisted and flailed in a desperate bid to shield himself from the onslaught. It was no use. Darkness cornered his vision, and ringing screeched in his ears. His entire body was slowly growing limp.

Henley squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the sweet relief of unconsciousness. He waited for the next punch. And waited. But it never came. Confused, Henley cracked open a swollen and purpling eye.

Izaak was no longer looking at him, and a flicker of raw terror replaced the unhinged rage that had plagued his eyes before. Henley groaned as he lifted his pounding head, and turned to follow Izaak’s petrified stare.

A shadow shifted at the top of the stairs, a tutting sound emanating from the darkness.

“What are you doing to my boy?” Ronan asked, cool as a cucumber on the surface, but fury bubbled below. The calm facade didn’t last. Ronan flew down the stairs, and pulled that oh so familiar remote from his pocket. In the blink of an eye, Izaak was a quivering, jittering wreck as his shock collar lit up and shocked him stiff. He collapsed from Henley’s body like a tonne of bricks. His screams pierced the sound barrier - his fingers scrabbled and ripped at the collar, kicking his legs and bucking his entire body. Ronan punched the button again, and again until the screaming stopped. It’s just silent gargles, with drool dribbling down the edge of Izaak’s blue lips. 

Ronan threw Henley a single, and quick look as he bolted past. It wasn't a look of reassurance, but a quick flicker up and down to acknowledge him. Reaching his locked cabinet, Ronan fumbled with the combination and finally, the cabinet swung open, and he snatched a vial and syringe, and a length of rope.

He wastes no time in racing over to where Izaak is heaving and panting on the floor, and stabbing the syringe in his neck. Izaak roared, a sound that curdled the blood, but it was cut short by a weak gasp as the muscle relaxant began to take hold.

“There, there. That should settle you down, big-un,” Ronan chuckled, patting Izaak on the chest.

“F-ffuc- fuckk y-yoou,” Izaak slurred, his eyes rolled like pinball machines in their sockets. Henley watches as all the tone in Izaak’s muscle depleted and he flopped lifelessly. Izaak lay sprawled on the floor, a pathetic mew escaping his lips as the muscle relaxant coursed through his veins. His previously violent thrashing had dissolved into a pathetic trembling, his limbs heavy and unresponsive.

Henley's cry echoed through the basement. Now that the threat was neutralised. "You didn't tie him tight enough, sir! He almost—!" His voice choked on the rising panic, his gaze locked on Izaak's slack form. “He was going to kill me.”

Ronan paid no mind to Henley, the shivering wreck that he was. Instead, he focused on yanking Izaak’s arms behind his back. With rough rope, he bound Izaak's wrists together with a vengeance, the knots pulled tight, drawing a choked gasp that did little to faze Ronan. Next, he secured Izaak's ankles with another length of rope, the slack yanked out until Izaak's legs were splayed uncomfortably wide. Finally, with a cruel twist, Ronan bound Izaak's ankles to his secured wrists, hog-tying him in a position that screamed discomfort. Izaak's gasps faded to choked moans as his body contorted in a way it wasn't meant to, forced into an arched bow.

Ronan left Izaak on the ground and approached Henley slowly. With a touch that could have been gentle or cruel, he cupped Henley's bruised and bloodied cheek. Henley flinched at the contact, a hiss escaping his lips. Ronan’s eyes flickered over the damage and he tsked, disappointed. Then his eyes met Henley’s and locked in. “Do you really think I’d let him break one of my favourite toys?”

“He - He got pretty close, master.” Henley snivelled. He flinched as Ronan’s arms moved, expecting another blow, but instead, his arms wrapped around Henley’s tiny frame in a sudden and suffocating embrace. Ronan’s grip was tight, possessive, leaving no wiggle room. Defeated, Henley sagged into the hug and rested his head on Ronan’s chest, letting his eyes flutter shut. It was always easier to give into this than brave the pain. Ronan began to stroke Henley’s hair, twirling it in his fingers. It wasn’t a gesture of genuine affection and Henley was never under the impression that it was. It was Ronan’s sense of ownership. Like Izaak’s claim was the bruises and scars. Ronan’s was more inside than out. For Henley, at least.

“Shh Shh. Come with me. I’ll get you patched up, little one”. Grunting with effort, Ronan hoisted Henley to his feet, a hand wrapped under his armpit to guide him up the creaking stairs.

Ronan turned at the very last step, leering at the sight of Izaak, bound and subdued. "That little temper tantrum of yours was cute, pet" he called down, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "But playtime's over. Now, you get to lie there, nice and quiet, and contemplate all the fun things I have planned for you when your little cocktail wears off. I want you to feel every second.”

----

Taglists!:

Henley taglist: @livelaughwhump @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth

Ronan taglist: @kira-the-whump-enthusiast

Izaak taglist: @emmettland @kira-the-whump-enthusiast @sorrowful-hyacinth @whumpsoda

Drabble taglist (which I forgot existed and have recently rediscovered assdfghjkl so will be using from now on unless you would like off it <3 ): @whatwasmyprevioususername @whumpsday @sparrowsage @whumperfully @wolves-and-winters @canislycaon24 @happy-little-sadist @darkthingshappen @whumping-in-the-dark @vagabouund @turn-the-tables-on-them

[sorn-orlith]

Heyyyy so I might or might not have just been obsessing over your page (I totally was I ain’t gonna lie). But I was wondering (if your requests are still open) if you could do a M!Tav x Shadowheart where Shadowheart has a nightmare in camp and he comforts her. Mainly fluff but if you want to add smut, well I won’t complain lmao. Anyway hope you’re having a great day!

There had been a time when Tav would ignore Shadowheart's quiet gasps of pain -- not because he wanted to, mind, but because any attempt at soothing had been met with swift and harsh rebuke. Pain is Shar's gift, and Tav learned quickly not to come between his beloved and her goddess.

But tonight is different. Not a tenday prior Shadowheart had cast decades of Shar worship into the ether along with her spear. To say she was taking it poorly would be an inadequate read of the situation; she was withdrawn, but not to the point of harm. She needed to think. She needed time.

The Sharran had long since kept her pain silent; but as Tav lies, ears pricked to the slightest sound, he picks up her voice -- "No."

It's as much of an invitation he's going to get. He keeps his blankets around his shoulders -- the early-autumn air nips at his skin -- and makes his way into Shadowheart's tent.

"Shadowheart."

He calls to her in the darkness, a whisper unheard. Her teeth chatter, her breathing comes in short gasps.

"Viam lux!"

Tav is more forceful as he summons dancing lights, illuminating their sanctum in a bluish glow. Shadowheart, curled in on herself and doused in her own sweat, lay shivering at his feet. In an instant he's on his knees. From his new vantage point he's able to see the muscles in her face clenched, eyes shut so tightly it's as though they're sealed closed.

Tentative as though reaching for a frightened kitten, he touches her shoulder. "Shadowheart, wake up; it's Tav. You're having a nightmare." Gentle fingers wipe the sweat-soaked bangs from her brow. "Come back to me. Please."

In a flash her eyes are open and locked on Tav's, a deer staring down the length of a hunter's arrow.

He brings the light in closer, that she might see an ally above her.

"Tav," she chokes.

"You're awake now; she can't touch you." He knows better than to tell her her dreams were not real. In all her wickedness, the Goddess of loss raking jagged claws down Shadowheart's brain is every bit as true as the man currently crouched beside her.

A steadying hand on her shoulder, the tortured creature's panting slowly evens out into a pained but steady rhythm. Her shaking ebbs.

"There you are," he says.

"She has me," whispers the half-elf. "I can live in the moonlight all I want to; as soon as I'm asleep, I'm hers again."

It's the first she's spoken of Shar since the night they promised themselves to one another. Tav won't ruin this. If she needs to talk, let her talk. If she needs warmth, let Tav be an inferno.

"I'm so cold."

He's ambling onto his side before the words are even out, wrapping her up in his own blanket.

She rests her slick forehead against his.

"Do you want to be touched?" He ventures, cautious.

Shadowheart's eyes study the sproutings of hair on Tav's chin with fervid intent, fearing his eyes as she had when she had first awoken. "I don't know. Can you... here, take my hand."

She was right. She's frigid. Fingers like ice meet Tav's warm hand between them. Silence fills the seconds that come next, stretching out into quiet minutes spent in contemplation.

"I don't think I'm getting back to sleep," sighs Shadowheart at last. "But -- will you come to my tent tomorrow? If you'll have me, I mean. I could use someone to banish Shar when I'm in the worst of it."

He brings her now-warm fingers to his lips. "Think nothing of it. As long as you have need of me, I'll be here."

[whumping-valentine]

🦌 Fawn and Hunter - Part 5 🦌

"Cabin Colds"

Content: Sick Whumpee, Carewhumper

1100 Words

Hey it's part five! Who likes sick whumpees and caretaking whumpers? 👀

This part is short and simple, but it was a way for me to vent when I was sick last week, lol. The parts will get longer and more complex as we go though, so you can look forward to that!

I really wanna try and get this little story done, because afterwards I'm gonna be posting my story on Valentine, which I'm itching to share with you all. God, I can't wait for y'all to meet Valentine and Vittoria, man. It's gonna be great. But anyways, I hope you like this tiny little slice of sick whump!

       Fawn barely slept a wink that night, how could they? Tied up and in pain isn't exactly the utmost form of comfort.

       Ironically enough, it was warmer down in the basement. Though that's probably due to the numerous broken windows around the cabin, closed off with nothing more than wooden planks and tattered blankets. And last night they just added another one to the list.

       That's how Fawn would sleep for the next week. Their days consisted of the same old things, being taunted, condescended, sometimes slapped and pulled by the hair. Being treated as some pretty pet, or lowly companion. Eating nothing besides venison. It was all starting to take its toll on the poor thing.

As the days continued to tick by Fawn slowly came to the realization that they were going to be here for quite a while... unfortunately. They didn't want to completely give up hope just yet, but Hunter was quite experienced with this sort of thing, so it was apparent.

       One night, Fawn fell asleep with a sore throat, and woke up completely sick. It was freezing, but they also felt hot, all at once. Their head was pounding, their nose was running, and every muscle in their body was aching. It was pure, absolute misery, and worst of all they weren’t sure how Hunter was going to react to it. Whether or not they were going to be comforting or neglectful, Fawn liked neither option.

       Though they’ll accept any help by this point, they couldn’t just lay here, they simply couldn’t. They tried to call out to their captor, though their sore throat didn’t allow it. All they could do was cough, and a short while later, it was enough to catch their attention. All it took was one look at the poor thing for Hunter to tell they were sick. They crossed their arms and leaned their shoulder against the door frame.

       “Feelin’ bad, baby?”

       Fawn coughed, “Yes.”

       The sound of their voice made Hunter widen their eyes in surprise, “Oh, wow, you really are, poor thing." They said, still talking down to them, "Need some help?”

        Fawn would normally bicker and bite, but in this instance said, “Please.”

       Hunter didn’t waste a second going to untie them. Rope marks stained their wrists and ankles, which were growing more frail as the days ticked by as Fawn slowly lost weight and strength.

       Hunter picked them up bridal style, and carried them down to the basement, into a new room that was previously kept behind a locked door. A secret, cozy place that was actually rather nice, and well kept. They laid Fawn down on a couch, lit a fireplace, then covered them up with a thick quilted blanket. They left for a few minutes and returned with a cold washcloth, which they placed on their feverish forehead.

       “Do you want something to eat?”

       “No.”

       “Wanna rest?”

        “Yes.”

       Hunter gently lifted their head, sat down, and placed it on their lap. They ran slow fingers through their hair. They chuckled, “What, too sick to yell at me for this, are you?”

       Fawn simply peeked their eyes open, glared at them, and closed them again.

       “I see, I see. You can yell at me when you’re better.” They said, placing a hand on their head as they dragged their fingers through their now coarse hair. Fawn hated it, hated that their captor of all people was being so intimate and caring. They always hated it, but in this instance they were far too sickly to even think of biting back.

       Their head was pounding, fever burning, body sweating. Their throat was sore, it was hard to breathe, and they found themself asking for a tissue every few minutes. Their body ached, they felt nauseous, their stomach was upset, and every muscle in their body hurt. Their skin was sensitive to the touch, and they were tired as all hell but couldn’t find it in them to fall asleep.

       They weren’t sure what exactly they had, but it was probably the sickest they had ever felt in their entire life. Really, they probably had more than one thing. Being held out in an old, dirty cabin with deer carcasses all over the place is a pretty good guarantee that you’re going to catch something. Hunter was surely used to the conditions, but Fawn clearly was not.

       Eventually Fawn managed to drift off to sleep without even realizing. When they awoke again they were still there, head in Hunter’s lap. Hunter looked down at their sleepy eyes, and took the washcloth off their head to check their temperature with the back of their hand. They asked, “You feelin’ any better?”

       Fawn’s only response was a meek, hoarse, “Thirsty.”

       Hunter got up, gently laying them back down as they went to fetch a canteen of water. When they returned, they helped Fawn sit up as they held the canteen to their lips as they gulped down the whole thing at once. It felt difficult, uncomfortable, and painful to swallow due to their sore, swollen throat, but they persisted despite it.

       “Want me to grab you something to eat, too?” Hunter asked. Fawn thought for a moment, and slightly nodded.

       Hunter left to the kitchen once again, and ravaged through the old, dusty cupboards for something to feed them that wasn’t meat. They grabbed an old soup can, checked the date, and to their surprise it was still good. They rinsed a dusty bowl and poured the soup into it. They warmed it up over the stove, and retreated back down to the basement.

       "I thought you'd like something other than venison." Hunter said, sitting back down with Fawn, "How does vegetable soup sound?"

       Fawn could practically cry tears of joy. “great.”

       Fawn's head laid on Hunter's shoulder, one of their arms around them as the other fed them soup like a child. Fawn was far too sick to get upset about it, accepting the gesture with gratitude. They closed their eyes as Hunter fed them spoonfuls.

The warm, crackling fire paired with their fever made them just about ready to fall asleep. They were so feverish and tired that they even found it comforting when Hunter gently rubbed their hand up and down their back. If they had any sense of clarity in their head, they’d find the gentle gestures and caretaking insulting.

       Hunter finished feeding them the soup, placing the empty bowl on a nearby table. They looked down at the sickly thing in their arms, "Hm. I think it's time for bed, Fawn."

       "Says who?" Fawn mumbled, the soreness present in their tone.

       "Says me. You’re already falling asleep. And more sleep will do you good.”

       “What do you care.”

       “I care because I’d like to take care of my pet, that’s what.” They said, grabbing onto them as they both laid down. Fawn wanted so badly to fight against the gestures, but couldn't. They weren't sure if it was because of how ill they felt, or if it was because they actually liked it.

They hoped it wasn't the second one.

       Hunter held Fawn to their chest, their arms wrapped around them, both curled up under the blanket.

       Well, I suppose it's better than being tied to a bed. And, I guess there could always be worse creepy serial killers to be taken by...

Taglist: @parasitebunny

^^ If you want added, lmk!

[kpopsickies]

could you do one where seungmin is super sick (emeto) and chan cares for him for a couple days?

Sickie: Seungmin

Caretaker: Chan

I told y'all lots of updates were coming =)

Seungmin p.o.v

After what felt like an eternity the members of stray kids were finally allowed to have a break. We had been so busy with schedules over the past few months but finally our company was allowing us a few week break. Almost all the members were oin home to visit family. I was excited it had been a while since I had seen my family.

But the night before I was supposed to leave I had started to feel sick. I sincerely hoped it was just from the excitement. The discomfort kept me awake late into the night. It was almost 3 AM when I started to question the possibility that the discomfort of my stomach was a bit more than just excitement. It had changed from a dull ache to a nauseating, aching, just generally horrible feeling. I started to feel nauseous and felt bile creeping up the back of my throat, I climbed out of bed as quickly as possible, the movement jostled my stomach and caused it to churn. I hurried to the bathroom, I was so sick I didn't even bother to shut the door, let alone lock it.

Chan p.o.v

I heard a crashing noise from the hallway. I was trying to figure out who possibly could be up so late, well I guess early. I was about to investigate the sound when my question was answered as I heard a harsh retching and then the sound of vomit hitting water. I hurried to climb out of bed and rushed to the bathroom, where Seungmin was bent over the toilet. I knelt down next to him. “I rubbed his back as he continued to throw up. he whimpered softly. Its okay Minnie. It will be over soon“

“hyung it hurts.”

“I know. Just try and breathe” He whimpered again.

“I know Minnie. Are you done throwing up?” he nodded, “I think so” I helped him stand up and I gently lead him to my room. My roommates already out of the house on their vacation. "Sorry hyung."

"Dont apoloize, You cant control being sick"

"Still, feel bad"

"Sick bad or guilty bad?"

"Both" he admitted softly, he rubbed his stomach. "I'm going to grab a heat pack. It might help with your stomach." Seungmin nodded. I moved the trash can next to the bed. "There's that in case you get sick again bud" He nodded, his skin was pale and looked tinged slightly green. I left the room, only a moment later I heard a "Hyung?" it was weak and sounded pained. The call was followed by an unmistakable gag and then the sound of vomit. I hurried back to the room and started rubbing Seungmin's back as he curled over the trash can, expelling the contents of his stomach.

His body wracked with painful sounding gags, I felt his back muscles tense with the force of the vomit. The force of his vomiting combined with his sobs wretched his whole body forwards. "Min you need to breathe" I whispered softly, rubbing his back comfortingly. He sniffled, "hurts" he said softly. He leaned back against my chest, "done?" 

"Think so. For now at least." He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "How long have you felt sick for?" I asked him, I gently moved him off my body and picked up the bowl and took it to the bathroom connected to my room to wash it out. "I dunno. Stomach felt off all day. Didn't think I was sick though." 

"Have you told your parents yet? I think the best thing for you right now is to stay home. You need rest." Seungmin shrugged, "it's fine. I-" he swallowed down a gag. He gently rubbed his stomach. "Need this?" I asked handing him the trash can. He shook his head. "I'm tired. Just wanna sleep." 

"That's totally fine." I allowed him to get comfortable in my bed. I went to lay down in a different bed, but he whispered lightly. "What's wrong bud?" 

"With me?" I was confused, "did you need something" 

"Cuddle please" he said softly. I smiled slightly, I climbed into bed next to him. He curled into my side. Thankfully he fell asleep quickly. 

*The next morning*

Seungmin p.o.v

I woke up feeling nauseous. Thankfully not as bad as I did last night, but enough that I knew I only had a matter of time before I threw up. Chan hyung was still asleep, and I felt bad waking him up last night, so I was very careful to not wake him up. I remembered that Chan was the only other one still at the dorm. All the others had already left. Chan had ultimately decided not to go to Australia, and was going to stay at the dorm. Which I was very happy about, especially because I was starting to wonder if it might be best for me to not visit my family. Especially with how sick I still felt. 

I went to the living room, I took the garbage can with me as the nausea was growing. I sat on the couch, I considered watching a movie or playing something on my phone, but the thought of doing anything made me feel dizzy and I didn't want to make the nausea worse. 

Chan p.o.v 

I woke up a bit later than usual, this didn't surprise me, especially with how much Seungmin was tossing and turning last night with his fever. I was surprised that Seungmin wasn't in the bed next to me. I got out of bed and went towards the living room area and saw Seungmin laying on the couch, his eyes closed and the trash can was next to him. I noticed the smell that showed he had thrown up at least once that morning. I couldn't quite figure out if he was asleep or not. But I did very quietly remove the trash can and I cleaned it out. When I got back Seungmin was sitting up on the couch, rubbing his eyes. "Morning" I said, he flinched at my voice. "Hey hyung" his voice was rough, I assumed it was from how many times he had thrown up. He noticed the trash can was clean. "You don't have to clean up after me hyung" 

"I'm just taking care of you. There's nothing wrong with that" I rubbed his back. He smiled somewhat shyly. "I just want you to feel better." 

"Thanks hyung. Uh, I don't think I'm going home this week" 

"That's fine bud. I was going to suggest that" 

“I just feel really awful” he admitted softly. “I know its not fun to be sick. Especially with a stomach bug” Seungmin nodded, he suddenly clamped his hand over is mouth. I moved the trash can right under his chin. he gagged and gently pushed me away, he vomited into the bin. I placed a comforting and on is back. I kept it there the whole time he was getting sick. “Chan hyung?” I looked at him. “Can we watch something?”

“of course” I helped him get comfortable before putting a movie on the tv. e seemed content, so I went to clean the trash can out. When I returned I sat next to him. “Tank you so much hyun.“

“No problem"

[melanatedkink]

Can I Wake Up First?

Need a story to comfort the chronic pain in my body. Anybody who can relate, I genuinely hope for the best for you. Not all suffering is a lesson, sometimes it's just bull.

Warnings: Ambiguous pain(insert illness if you like to self- insert), angst to comfort, gender neutral

Pairing: Y/N x Mirio, Bakugo, Tamaki, somebody else (individually)

Mirio:

You loved Mirio. You do. You really do. However, it was safe to say that the honeymoon phase was effectively dead. At least, when it came to his habits, it was nearly impossible to forgive. You remember the day his quirk was beginning to comeback. You insisted on taking him out that night to celebrate. You expected happy tears. You expected his motivation to skyrocket at this new information. What didn't come to forefront of your mind, was his 5 o'clock alarm.

While he was recovering, Mirio would give you grace, setting his alarm to wake you up just an hour before you had to be at work. You were not a morning person, even while he was being lenient with you, but he helped you get your mind ready for work. It wasn't your fault. Every morning was a struggle as you woke up with the shakes. You'd experience horrible, squeezing, spasming muscles just minutes into consciousness. It pretty much kept you in bed until you got some medicine in you.

And who was right there to administer that? The same guy who was switching up on you now. See, when he was a hero, you two hadn't met, yet. So you were unaware of his habit at waking up at 5 am. As soon as his feet hit the ground, his routine was in motion. He hit the shower, grabbed his duffel bag, left a quick kiss on your "sleeping" form, and headed straight to the gym. The only other contact you get for him is his text saying he finally made it to Suneater's agency three hours later, when you were limping your way to the kitchen for your savior in a bottle.

And this morning, you had enough as soon as your eyes opened to his stupid phone. As he came out of the shower, he stumbled to a halt. You were sitting straight up, despite how your muscles were beginning to scream at you. He flicked the light on, as if to comfirm that you were indeed up. Meanwhile, you were trying your hardest not take that gesture as an act of violence.

"Babe? Did I wake you?" Mirio whispered as he inched toward your side of the bed.

He took your hands in his as he sat next to you. You allowed yourself to find peace in his eyes. Maybe it was the pain, or maybe it was the loss of contact you'd been getting, but you were feeling yourself break right in front of him.

"Do you have to wake up so early?" you croaked, the sleep heavy in your voice.

He words caught in his throat. Technically no, but he was a creature of habit so...

"Yeah, I would like to,"

You figured he'd say that. You took a steady breath and squeezed his hands. But before you could find the words, his face lit up. He raced out the door without a word, leaving you completely dumbfounded. You scanned the room for his bag, just to ensure your man didn't straight up ditch you. The door swung open, again, and Mirio was right by your side with water, your meds, and your favorite juice.

"Thank you-" you were cut off with a pill pressed against your lips.

Amid his rearranging your bedside table and comforting you, Mirio managed to whisper an explanation.

"I was so excited about my quirk I... I wanted to hurry up and be someone people could rely on again, but my baby needs me the most, right now,"

It was always interesting seeing Mirio become so meek. Whether it was softening his voice, his kisses, or his hands to make it easier to keep from overstimulating you, he was always adhering to your needs. Which is also why it took you so damn long just to address this.

"Would you like anything else?" he asked.

"Would you let me take you out?" you replied, a flirty lilt in your tone.

He barked out a laugh," I should be taking you out for leaving you in pain this long,"

"That's exactly why," you admitted," Sweetheart, you do so much for me, all the time. Even if it's not helping me start my day, you're there throughout, and you're there when I get home. I just... I never want to stop doing things for you. So, please?"

He sighed through his nose, having a war with himself before kissing a gentle confirmation on your lips.

"Fine, but I'm buying you breakfast before I head out,"

"But I wanna go back to sleep~" you whined.

"You can," he pecked you again," when you're done eating,"

[beyondthetemples-ooc]

Mildly annoyed at my body.

Probably venting. Mostly complaining. Some medical talk.

I kinda want to get a second shift job, but I just got a raise and starting this month, I will be making really good money. Like, double minimum wage money. I don't think I'll be finding that wage anywhere else with no college degree and only 5 years of office experience...

I want to put more of my books on the shelves, the ones still boxed in the living room and the basement. Go through the comics I probably have no real attachment to, maybe offer them up somewhere. Put the books I keep thinking about that somehow didn't get their boxes marked "FAVE" and thus weren't put upstairs when I moved. They're in the basement. I KNOW I have more books by my favorite author. I've been wanting to reread the ones I haven't unpacked.

But I just ate. I can't go up and down the stairs, let alone carrying 2+ boxes and unpacking them. Not to mention, some of them are practically buried in others' boxes... I can't exert myself by moving them around, either. I might be able to reach the ones by the shoe rack, but I don't remember. I can't stand up and bend over to look.

For my stomach AND my back reasons. Ever since I had the neurology appointment, during which they twisted me in ways that made my mostly-fine back start hurting at a Level of 5/10 Again, and when I said it started hurting they kept twisting and asked if it still hurt. Yes! Fuck yes, it hurt WORSE!

And it still hasn't entirely calmed down. The pain now is worse than it was before the appointment. Even two weeks later (or is it three?). Even with lidocaine patches and muscle relaxers. They want me to start steroid shots. (And do physical therapy again, but I already spent most of my PTO built up this year on Sisu's vet appointment and my teeth. I need to build up more hours for things in April, a concert road trip and taking the day of the solar eclipse off because I absolutely REFUSE to miss the eclipse, when I live conveniently RIGHT in the path of totality! I can't take 4 hours off work every week because the PT only has appointments during my work schedule.)

I need to do at-home physical therapy exercises more often anyways, but I can't lay down (let alone lay on my side for 10 minutes) after eating, and by the time my stomach's done making me uncomfortably aware of the food I've eaten, I need to go to sleep.

And tomorrow, I want to watch some panels at an online convention and go grocery shopping and clean the pet cages and shower. Maybe sweep my room and do dishes. I'm still debating if I want to wake up at 10am for a panel on something I've often wondered about (thanks in large part to the name of a roller coaster at Cedar Point), but that will sacrifice about 4 hours of sleep.

Precious sleep. Which is ALWAYS a struggle working first shift. When I worked 3pm to 11pm, I slept for 9 hours every night, no problem. (I was constantly exhausted for Other reasons, but sleep wasn't the problem.) But working first shift? I have to fight my body tooth, nail, and pharmaceuticals to get it asleep before 11pm. Half the time it doesn't happen. The meds make me sleepy, but won't KEEP me asleep.

I take melatonin, L-theanine, herbal supplements (valerian and lemon balm and passionflower and lavender), magnesium citrate, and an anti-depressant and muscle relaxer, all in the desperate hopes that I MIGHT be able to sleep for 8 hours a night. (I struggle with delayed circadian disorder. It's not insomnia, because I can easily fall asleep and stay asleep if it's within my body's natural circadian rhythm. Sleeping about 1-3am, waking about 10:am to noon.)

It isn't the ADHD meds that keep me awake because, once again, due to my stomach being a Little Bitch^tm, I can only take them when I'm having Really Good Days with my stomach. Which is, at most, about 1 in 5 days. It's rare that I CAN take them 2x a week. Let alone every day.

At the core of it, if I didn't work 40 hours a week and didn't have to ride a bus for an hour each way to and from work and didn't have to wake up at 7am every day, I'd have more time and more sleep to endure and work around my stomach's issue with Being Active After Eating, and work around Needing to Sleep or I feel Dead On My Feet.

....though with the raise, maybe I'll be able to get my temps again, and once I get my license, have the budget to start paying for gas and parking downtown...? I figure that's another $200/month, at least, but even if I break even with what my cashflow is NOW, I'd get about 80 minutes of my life back every day. That actually sounds really nice...

But currently, as it stands, my schedule is perpetually packed and my body is perpetually fighting me on doing Anything Ever. =_= Not to mention, the ADHD making it really hard to overcome that executive dysfunction...

It's just frustrating, wanting to do So Much but needing 2 weeks to recover my social battery after being at a wedding for 5 hours. I can't catch up on sleep when my duplex neighbors are massive inconsiderate assholes who blast music every Saturday morning. I want to wake up a little early to hear a really interesting topic discussion tomorrow, but it comes at the cost of spending the entire next week exhausted from sleep deprivation.

Where's the Quality of Life when the amount of life you can live is so small, you can't fit a lot of Doing Things in it anyways?

Worst of all, I've been too exhausted to write, whether that's roleplaying or fic. I'm lucky if I can come up with 5 words for my Pokemon character to tag on a blog post. I can't come up with New Things Happening very often. I really desperately want to continue some Old RPs with Dove, but my brain is fried mush. It's burnt on the outside and just a gooey mess on the inside. I can't jog it enough to Imagine New Things.

I'm not exactly depressive. I'm having fun at the convention this weekend! I'm glad for the 5 words I can scrouge up on the Pokemon RP blog! I'm eating good food and stealing every minute of personal time I can get! I'm watching Teen Titans and ATLA with my roommates once a week! I only have minor complaints with my actual job duties! It's not All bad.

I'm just frustrated that working 40 hours a week is so fucking much to work around that it's a chore all its own to try fitting my life around it without sacrificing sleep health.

Fuck capitalism.

[sansxfuckyou]

A Draconic Alteration

Summary: When your cells start to destabilize or overproduce, you can fight it, and ignore it, but, that isn't exactly a wise choice when dealing with non-human cells.

Warnings: light body horror, swearing, mild gore, check tags for further warnings.

Authors Note: People still like dragons right? Dragons are still in right? I sure hope so, reblogs are appreciated!

Kys Gear cells have become unstable.

Dizzy can feel it, Sol can feel it, even Sin can feel it, but Ky can't, not attuned to how they act like his Gear family is.

He listens when they tell him whats going on, he listens but he doesn't change a thing about how often he utilizes them because he would know best of all if his body was failing him, right? Apparently not, Faust had to explain to him that close people will notice things that oneself doesn't from time to time, he didn't believe it.

But then it started to show through. His balance would falter for seemingly no reason. His body would quake in spastic tremors on and off relentlessly. His brain refused to filter nor keep in the thoughts he liked to keep personal. And it happened in the form of once infrequent episodes, they used to happen every two months, then once a month, twice he could handle and predict so he wouldn't have to be seen when it did. Then it started to happen thrice a month, and then it went to happening whenever it so desired. (Each time it gets worse)

His skin had started to change color as well, first becoming paler and sickening gray before slowly morphing to a charcoal blue with flickers of brightness; its only changed in some patches. His teeth have sharpened greatly, he used to blunt them every night, they were sharp in the morning, he just extracts them before he goes to sleep now; they always come back just as sharp if not more. His hair has grown out again, it always does, now it grows faster, and each time he cuts it off, the tips seem to darken to a deep, navy, ashes; he smells burnt now no matter what shampoo he uses.

(His body is larger as well, he doesn't notice, his family does)

Even when he catches a glimpse of his reflection, he can't believe its him because all he sees is a monster, he knows he has to ignore it and continue his duties.

Ky still knows he'll end up a monster one day, at the rate things are going it'll be sooner than later, he doesn't bring it up though. When asked if he's feeling alright, he lies and says he's feeling perfectly fine, even though its clear his gaze is fixated on what hes becoming. Fixated on his charcoal hands that flicker aqua and fingers turned to talons, fixated on his deep blue scales that spread slowly across his once unblemished skin, fixated on his bio-luminescent eyes in the mirror that glow in darkness.

He just hopes that his family will still love him when he is gone and a monster is all that remains.

---

"Ky, I need you to breathe," Sol instructed as he stared in horror at his son in laws morphing form, he edged away, but kept his tone still, a set of glowing blue eyes with red pupils stared at him from between clawed hands.

"Breathe? You want me to fucking breathe?!" Ky roared at Sol as his bones reformed and his muscles stretched and bolstered to match his changing form, his skull melding into one much more reptilian with somewhat sharp angles, two great horns starting to jut out and hair hardening into scaled plating fast.

"Yes I want you to fucking breathe! If you calm down it'll slow the destabilization!" Sol shouted up at Ky who started to keel over, once bipedal quickly morphing to quadrupedal, landing on his knees, clothes straining to contain his scaled and growing form.

"I can't!" Ky snapped back, giving a shout of pain as his spinal cord shifted and his neck jutted awkwardly, his back rounded and tail bone changing fast as a large tail started to form, that same deep navy tone.

"Okay, okay, just- listen to my counting! In on three, then out on three!" Sol shouted up and Ky opened his eyes, there was more than before, and he listened as Sol counted.

Pace of his heart coming back down a considerable amount as he drew air in and pushed it back out at a much steadied pace, it didn't stop the transformation though. His back still bubbled furiously and his tail still formed, ridges tearing through scaled skin for each vertebrae in place, his clothes tore but he knew his dignity would stay preserved with his new form. Soon his eyes closed, all of them, two smaller horns protruded outwards and his once taloned hands and feet turned to scaled paws made for tearing flesh.

His mouth slit open for a second and Sol saw hundreds if not thousands of micro fangs that flattened, resting behind the regular set of chompers. Fear shot through Sols body as he watched the coloration of the monsters underbelly fade out to something lighter, and the tail stop growing and the legs stop reconstructing. He knew that Ky must've been somewhere deep inside, but the second that monster woke up, the first king would never resurface again. But, it wasn't complete, he recognized the colors as being Kys Dragon Install, but for a dragon it was lacking something important.

Then, something so grotesque it was majestic happened.

In a burst of blood, flesh and cerebrospinal fluids, two glorious wings burst from the monsters back, outstretched for a second before coming down. In the second they were up, Sol could see they were dripping, and that the membrane was aqua and the supports were the same charcoal blue as the rest of the body. They continued to drip as fluids oozed from the holes they emerged from and trickled between scales, it was so gross, but entrancing, he would want to see it again, but never actively seek it out.

Sols breathing halted in his chest as hot air cackling with sparks filtered in and out of the monsters nose and mouth, he couldn't move, he hoped no one had heard. He wants to run, he wants to leave, he needs to go somewhere that isn't directly in front of this creature that could slaughter him with the tip of its claw. He physically can't, his heart is pounding, sending what felt like gallons blood at a mile a minute, palms perspiring and his body shaking like never before.

(That's a lie, he shook like that all the time when he was a kid.)

(He doesn't want to think about when he was a kid.)

He takes a step back, eyes start to flutter open, he goes to turn, he goes to run, but the near thunderous shake in the ground of the monster named Ky shifting position caused his balance to falter. He doesn't fall down, he just keeps on trekking, a bit slower, but still deliberately, he freezes again when slitted pupils veer through him as a scaled maw comes closer to his body. He doesn't dare move an inch, the breath that once washed over him is heavier now, makes his hair stand up; clawed paws until the beast has him circled.

It doesn't move though, it doesn't attack him.

Instead, a prehensile tail catches his ankles in a vice, hoisting him up as he activates his weapon, trying to stay intimidating as the hundred eyed, electric dragon tilted its head. Forked tongues flicker between teeth, and those slitted pupils turn to wide obsidian orbs circled in in blazing blue, hot saliva hits him in thin strips and he shudders, disgusting. Then he was dropped between the spires that were horns, his skin buzzed with electricity and he could hear his ears ring, it felt numbing. He had to grasp a horn when wings shook as they pumped, the beast could barely lifted itself into the air, and now, now he could see everyone staring; Sin and Dizzy from the windows, scared.

He still wasn't being hurt in any, way shape or form by this horrid creature, this abomination of faltering cells. He was nearly trying to slice through scales when he felt it glide to the windows that Sin and Dizzy stood behind, neither moved. He didn't when the dragon came to perch just in front of it, staring in with those big eyes, tongues slipping between knives. Sin inched closer first, so did Ky, or, what Ky had become, the electricity caused the windows to shatter and both startled before Dizzy came to stand in front of his maw. Snakelike tongues flickered out, getting her scent like a snake, slobbering like a dog, she giggled a bit before running her hand along the scaled paws dug into the walls; talons split bricks through to the other side.

Then Sol realized what Ky had become.

A giant, scaly dog.

Sol slid down the front of Kys skull, trotting across the snout before dropping down next to Dizzy and Sin, trying his hardest not to cower under the gaze of hundreds of eyes. Sin walked up next, this time that same prehensile tail, now split at the ends, gripped him at the waist, he squirmed and the grip loosened. The sheer size difference was absurd, Sin and Ky once being close to the same size, now one a dragon that would most likely end up being hunted down; Sin was in denial, shaking a bit.

"Do you think we'll be able to turn him back?" Dizzy asked, Sol shrugged his shoulders, unable to procure an answer.

"Do you think Illyria will be fine without the first king?" Sol asked back, Dizzy shook her head, two kings would not be enough.

"Do you think he'll be comfortable sleeping on the castle?" Dizzy asked, gesturing a little bit to her husbands now scaled form, light blue underbelly that glowed like charcoal and deep navy back, electrical spires on his head and a split tail.

"Do you think the castle will be able to hold his weight?" Sin asked, butting into the conversation and trying to be polite as he was spun around in the grip of tails, ending up being placed in the open maw of Kys muzzle, fangs down, Sin still froze up in fear as he was held in the open mouth, electricity washing over him; Dizzy responded instantly.

"Ky! Drop him, now." Dizzy demanded as though the dragon was a mere mutt, Ky did exactly as told, his son covered in rivulets of saliva and shaking, but it only took a second for him to start grinning.

"Do it again! Do it again!" Sin chanted as he shook in excitement, the dragon gave a quizzical look to Dizzy, eyes in a soft glaze of red, maw glued shut, he got a soft nod before he cracked open his mouth, fangs flat and tongues laid down and stilled.

Sin practically hopped in, just sitting down on the mass of forked tongues, leaned against the back of fangs, the blunt side. Electricity tingled on his skin and it kept him awake, like a shot of caffeine injected directly into his bloodstream and he liked it, loved it even; the way the insides pulsed, the ridges on the roof, and the slight squirm of the tongues below. It was an experience, he knew he had to leave eventually, but he kind of found it, safe, to be inside a creature of such stature that couldn't be felled.

"I wonder how Leo'll react to seeing the first king like this," Sol said with a bit of a chuckle, leaning against the edge of Kys jaw, the dragon gave a rumbling purr that had Sol startling and Sin grasping for a tooth, he left promptly, "he's coming over today right?"

"Yes, although, I don't think it'll be wise," Dizzy said, glancing down to the ground as Ky slowly closed his mouth, letting a few of his tongues stay out, flickering in the air like a snakes, that was probably how he smelt best now.

"You kidding me? It'll be fucking hilarious," Sol said, elbowing his daughter with a sharp grin on his face.

"I do suppose you have a point, but where will Ky wait? He's a little bit too big to fit anywhere inside the castle now," Dizzy asked, worried about her husband as with his new size he would no doubt have a much larger appetite, and with how much space he takes up, could the world even sustain one dragon? She supposes the world is about to find out.

"He can sleep by the parapets, in between the roofs, in the courtyard, we'll figure it out," Sol said, placing a hand on Dizzys shoulder as Ky gave another chirping sound, staring at his family.

"Do you think dads still in there?" Sin asked.

"I hope so," Sol said.

[shaelashaela]

Before You Were Born, ch. 13

[cw] anxiety, panic attack [reading time] 10½ mins.

My eyes fluttered. Morning light assaulted my vision—wait, no, it was closer to noon light. The sun high in the sky, its golden rays streaming through the window quite rudely. I rolled away from the offending midday orb, expecting to go back to sleep, but instead I found myself face-to-face with Rayna. She slumbered peacefully next to me. I was momentarily confused, but then I remembered at some point in the early morning I had cried again. Without a word, she climbed into bed with me and held me until I returned to sleep.

I wasn’t uncomfortable, though. Maybe because she was asleep? I watched her body rise and fall with each breath. She was peaceful. I envied her a little, but I also found her irresistible. She was brilliant and beautiful. She was kind and selfless. I wished I could just forget about everything else and stay in that moment.

In a rare moment of disinhibition, I reached out and touched my fingertips to her lips and caressed the skin just below her mouth. She stirred, though, and I withdrew.

Rayna rolled her head towards me, but didn’t open her eyes. “Hmm… Sylvie? Why’d you stop?”

I hid my hands under the covers. I couldn’t even say why I started. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Her eyelids lifted and her big, beautiful brown eyes focused on me. “It’s okay. We’ve probably slept late enough.”

She yawned and stretched her arms over her head, and I noticed that the right one was tinged from shoulder to elbow with a deep, ugly purple. I sat up.

“Why didn’t you mention you were hurt?”

She waved her hand dismissively. “It’s no big deal, just a bruise.”

I wouldn’t accept that answer. She was stubborn, but I could be stubborn, too. I crawled over her and rummaged through my overnight bag. Rayna rested her hand on the small of my back while I was bent over, and that made my cheeks burn. Thankfully she couldn’t see my face.

My mobile had a few missed messages from Mama. I didn’t really want to deal with that right now, so I pushed it aside and found the few small pieces of my alchemy kit that I brought with me. I mixed a few herbs and oils together in my palm and then gently massaged the concoction into her arm.

“I wish you’d told me sooner. I could’ve stopped the discolouration. This’ll still help it heal faster, though.”

At first she winced, but then she relaxed and smiled as the salve eased the pain. “I’ll keep that in mind for next time. How’re you feeling this morning?”

I frowned. “Empty. Exhausted. Tipping the vessel of my soul into the sand.” Her face contorted with confusion. I’d accidentally mixed in an Elvish idiom. “Out of tears… hopefully,” I clarified.

“We can stay in bed if you’re still tired.” Her voice sounded almost hopeful.

“We can stay in bed if you’re still tired.” Her voice sounded almost hopeful.

I shook my head. “No. I have something I need to do.”

My parents’ home was out in the suburbs, so it was a long walk from the nearest bus stop. My body wasn’t fully rested, as much from stress as lack of sleep, and my muscles protested every step I took. Well-manicured lawns and rows of brightly-coloured flowers flanked every home. All this oblivious serenity surrounding me felt a bit surreal since I knew what pursued me from the shadows.

I felt guilty bothering my mother the night after my father had passed, but I had questions burning in my brain. I wouldn’t be able to rest until she told me exactly what was going on. She and Papa knew this Ixion, that much was obvious. I pushed myself forward despite my instinct to turn back.

Rayna kept pace with me, lost in her own thoughts. She was uncharacteristically quiet the whole way there. I had asked her to stay behind, that this was not something she needed to involve herself in, but she insisted on accompanying me. I yielded, but only because I was secretly grateful that she attended me. As much as I loved my mother, I wasn’t excited to face her alone. At the same time, Rayna’s uncharacteristic silence bothered me as well.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. “Everything alright?”

She looked briefly in my direction. “Hm? Oh. Sorry. Don’t mind me. Just lost in my own head.”

“Well, if you let me in on your thoughts, maybe I can help.”

She smiled half-heartedly, an unusual expression for her. Her grins were typically full of energy. “Sylvie… there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“I’m listening.”

Rayna made some motions with her mouth, but she couldn’t quite form words. After a few moments, she shook her head. “Never mind… this isn’t the time. I’ll ask later.”

Well, that was unfair. My curiosity was piqued, and now my mind raced with a thousand different possibilities. What did she want to ask me? Was it something bad? I fretted silently. There would be no time to worry about that, though. We arrived at my parents’ home: a large, otherwise nondescript brick house surrounded by many others like it. I stopped at the end of the driveway and looked up at the tall windows obscured by curtains.

Rayna stopped next to me. “Is this it?’

I nodded, but I found it difficult to approach. Perhaps because I knew Papa wouldn’t be there. My heart felt so heavy.

My companion reached out and took my hand in hers. “Come on. I’m with you.”

I jumped at her touch, but the warmth of her hand soothed me just a little. “Yeah… okay.”

We walked up to the solid front door, and I placed my palm on it. The lock clicked open at my touch, a familiar clink of metal on metal, and the particular tone reassured me I was home. I took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Then I noticed Rayna wasn’t with me, so I looked back. She squatted on the front porch, her arms wrapped around her knees.

“Sylvie… I’m feeling… I can’t move… What’s going on?”

I muttered an oath under my breath. That was stupid of me! I quickly made a sign in the air for the guardian spell to release her.

“Sorry. The wards here are pretty strong. I totally forgot you’re not cleared for entrance.”

She recovered swiftly and jumped up to her feet. “Minch’, that was intense! I bet you don’t have to worry about solicitors.”

I shook my head. “It’s usually not that bad. Mama must’ve tuned them to full strength.”

“Sylvie? I did not expect you.”

I whirled on my heel. My mother had heard us enter, and now she stood in the foyer with us. For the first time in years, she wore traditional elven robes, elegant layers of white silk fabric trimmed with gold. My eyes fixed on hers; they were swollen and red. She’d been crying for certain. I felt guilty all over again.

“Sorry for coming over unannounced, Mama. But I really need to talk to you.”

She bobbed her head slowly. “Let us retire to the parlour, then.”

I followed obediently, falling into old habits. The halls of my childhood home felt eerily oppressive. We walked past a mashup of swirling elven sculptures, colourful human paintings, and creeping house plants. It was all familiar, but somehow empty. I sniffed back my tears and tried not to think about the part where my father wouldn’t come to greet me. His hands were always dirty from toiling in his lab, and I imagined him leaving a smudge on my clothes as he embraced me. Then he’d apologize and try to wipe it off, only to make it worse. A mixture of laughter and tears threatened to escape my throat, but I swallowed it. I guess I failed to not think about it.

We arrived at a small room with a low table and plush chairs. A tea set already waited on the table next to a half-empty cup. My mother made a show of hospitality, offering us some, but Rayna and I both declined and sat quietly, hands folded on our laps. My friend looked especially uncomfortable, and I felt bad for her.

My mother spoke first. “I can imagine what you want me to talk about.”

I nodded nervously and had to force the words out of my mouth. “Nox—or Ixion—whoever he is. I need to know why Papa died.”

She took a moment, then asked me a question in Elvish.

I glowered back at her. “Mama, be courteous and speak English.”

“My apologies,” she sighed. “But I do not think your human friend should be here.”

“She is,” I insisted. “Deal with it.”

If Rayna was uncomfortable before, she was doubly so now, and she shifted in her seat nervously. My mother was also upset, not directly at me I thought, but just at the situation in general. She averted her eyes and licked her lips, a sign familiar to me that meant she was in a predicament she didn’t know how to handle. I should’ve felt sympathy for her, but it was I who caused her discomfort on purpose this time. I had no patience left.

I took a moment to calm my anger and continued in a less harsh tone. “I’m sorry, Mama. Just please tell me what’s going on. I deserve that, don’t I?”

She took a deep breath and released it. “Sylvie, this all started long ago. Nox, as I said, is your father’s brother. When you were only eight, he made an attempt on your father’s life, and he nearly succeeded. He is the entire reason we left home and came here. As long as he was alive, both Vance and you were in grave danger. We hoped his disdain for this world, for the humans, would keep him away.”

She held back a lot of details; it was obvious to me. “But why? Why did he want to murder his own brother?”

Her lip trembled, and tears formed at the corners of her eyes. “Please, Sylvie… do not make me say it,” she pleaded.

I’d never heard such unmasked anguish in her voice, and my heart raced. The blood pounded in my ears. What could possibly be so awful that even she didn’t want to speak of it? She was always so strong, stronger than anyone I knew my whole life. I feared the answer, but I needed to know.

“What is it, Mama? Why can’t you tell me?”

She picked up a kerchief from the table and dabbed at her eyes. “Because I could never burden you with that knowledge. I could never hurt you so.”

My heart ached at her grief, but she also filled me with dread. What was so horrible that I couldn’t learn of it? My breaths became shallow, and I felt light-headed.

Mother sobbed, a show of emotion that I’d only seen on rare occasions. “Sylvie… please remember your father. He will always be your father.”

I couldn’t take it anymore. My mind was screaming. “Stop it! What are you talking about?”

She almost choked on her own words. “Nox… he… he is the one who sired you, not my husband.”

My stomach lurched. Rayna gasped audibly. My mother waved her hands emphatically and tried to continue her explanation, but I couldn’t hear her through the storm raging in my brain. I sprang up and ran to the bathroom down the hall, fell to my knees, and vomited into the toilet. What the hell was she talking about? It was impossible! But why would she lie to me? I retched again, and ragged tears slid down my cheeks. I’d never felt so miserable and betrayed all at once.

I gasped for air and clutched the sides of the toilet. My heart beat so hard and so fast that I feared it might explode. But then someone knelt behind me and gathered up my hair, tied it behind my head. I assumed it was my mother.

“That was … not what I expected. Take your time.”

It was Rayna. She rubbed my back gently while I leaned on the edge of the toilet seat for support. My gut was hollowed, both physically and emotionally. I didn’t even know what to feel in that moment. I slumped against the porcelain and shivered. Cold sweat rose to the surface of my skin. How could Papa not be my father? I couldn’t accept it. He was the one who raised me and taught me everything I knew, not that dark elf monster! I winced at the thought of calling Ixion my “father.” It was unthinkable, unacceptable, unforgivable. I gagged, but my stomach was already empty.

I have no idea how much time passed while I wallowed in misery, but once the chill left my body, I pushed myself up to my feet with a bit of Rayna’s assistance. She guided me over to the sink and patiently helped me clean my face. She was so kind.

We stood in the middle of the bathroom, letting the silence balloon. I wasn’t eager to go back to my mother just yet. Thankfully Rayna was patient with me.

“I don’t know what to do with this information. None of it makes sense.”

She nodded her sympathy and caressed my cheek with the back of her hand. “I know. I’ll be right here for you, though. Your mom is waiting in the other room when you’re ready.”

I smoothed out my blouse and skirt and made a feeble attempt to straighten my hair. After a moment of fidgeting, I decided to just leave it up in a ponytail rather than mess with it. Slowly, taking one step after another, we made our way back to the parlour. My mother looked more composed now. We both needed a bit of time to recover, apparently.

The relief was clear on her face, as if she assumed I might not come back. “Shaela-Shaela?”

I didn’t return to my chair. Instead I lunged forward and fell to my knees next to her, and I clasped her hands in mine. I felt small and just wanted to be her baby daughter again.

“Mama? You’re my mother, right? Right?”

“Oh, sweet child.” She wept and pulled me into an embrace. “Of course I am. I am so very sorry that I kept this from you. I thought you would never need to know, and that you could live in blissful ignorance. I made a terrible mistake.”

I’d never heard her openly admit being at fault for anything in her life. Shattering the myth that she was infallible was probably a good thing. After a moment in her arms, I pushed away and gave her my sternest glare.

“Now, tell me what happened. Everything.”

She cleared her throat. “Where do I even start? You were meant to be a miracle. Your father—my husband—and I wanted to have a child. But we tried and tried, and it would not happen. The doctors told us it was his fault; he would never father a child. We asked Nox for help. He would act as a surrogate father. Nox and Vance were close as brothers, and it felt a natural thing to ask of him.”

I swallowed hard. It was difficult imagining that dark elf as my father by blood, but I had no reason to doubt my mother’s words. “Go on.”

“At first it was as we hoped. I gave birth to you, and you were perfect in every way. Your father doted upon you and loved you as his own. Nox played the part of caring uncle and helped us raise you. It was all accepted at face value—only your grandparents knew the truth.”

“But… I don’t remember him at all.”

Her face lost its momentary enthusiasm. “You were still very, very young. After a time, your uncle acted strangely. He became very attached to you, wanting to be around you all the time. Sometimes he would ask to take you with him into the wilds where he foraged and hunted, but you were far too young. Then he became insistent. One night, he tried to kidnap you. Vance stopped him. Your father’s fury was intense, and the two of them argued long into the night. Nox disappeared.

“We thought that was the end of it. Years went by, and no one saw your uncle. We were worried, but he was his own man and could come and go as he pleased. Then,”—she hesitated and caught her breath—“Then… he did the unthinkable. When you were only eight years old, he sneaked into our home and tried to murder your father. His obsession and isolation turned him to darkness.”

I put a hand over my mouth. “That’s awful. But Papa was strong enough to stop him?”

She nodded. “Just barely so, yes. It was an awful fight. Thankfully you and I were away at your grandmother’s house. When we returned, our home looked like a battlefield, like the four elements themselves tussled through the hallways. Your father fended off Nox, but he was not able to capture him. Fearing another attack, we decided right then and there to relocate to the human lands for all our safety.”

My brain swam with all this new information, and I laid my head on my mother’s lap. She placed one hand on my face. Her fingers were cool and reassuring on my cheek.

“We thought we would be safer here,” she continued. “The decades rolled on, you grew up, and we forgot about Nox. That was our mistake.” She turned to Rayna unexpectedly. “Well, girl. Now that you know our secret, what is your part in all this?”

My friend was flustered. “I—I don’t know. I just want to keep Sylvie safe. I’m not even sure if knowing all this helps us put a stop to it.”

My mother’s sudden focus on Rayna pushed other thoughts out of my head, filling me with indignation. I got to my feet.

“No, it changes nothing. I won’t—I can’t forgive him. But now that I know I was the prize all along, it gives me a little bit of an edge. I might be able to use his desires against him.”

My mother’s tone dripped with disapproval. “Sylvie, are you mad? You cannot mean to antagonize him.”

“What option do I have, Mama? Hide here for the rest of my life?”—I waved my hands in the air for emphasis—“Barricade myself behind Papa’s wards? None of us are safe, including Rayna. No, I’m going to do something about this and put a stop to it.”

It was a rare sight: my mother pursed her lips, unable to retort.

“If you don’t mind, I’m going to take a few things from Papa’s workshop, and then I will get to work. I will not live in fear. Not anymore.”

[zaceouiswriting]

Saving the children

Character: Steve Rogers x male reader

Universe: Somewhere in Marvel

Warnings: Sad

Days of nervous waiting, restless sleep, and utter fear, felt like the norm at that point. Steve hit it even harder than yourself. He was running through the house all the time, not daring to go into your children’s bedrooms. Hoping he would lose this feeling of dread, that was haunting him.

You on the other hand were rather calm. Only waiting for the week to pass, so you could do your work. Which would be faster than the police could ever be.

Just sitting around, reading a book, Steve stormed into the living room, mad as he can be, snapping the book out of your hands. „What the fuck is wrong with you? Our children are missing, kidnapped out of your own hands and you are just sitting here? Not even caring they aren’t here?“

Able to look over the accusation, because you knew how important your children were for him, you stood up, threateningly getting in front of him. But the fight he searched for would not happen. Instead, you got your book back, put it back on the side table, and pulled your husband in a well-needed hug.

„Everything will be okay. They are strong and as long as the oldest holds back his magic, nothing will happen to them. Better now? Or do I need to bind you to our bed and massage your knots out? I mean, you must be completely tense at that point.“

Steve did not argue with you after that, but actually accepted your offer of a massage, he knew that you kept an eye on your children or at least, their wellbeing. Knowing that you had no problems, waiting, he decided to do the same.

For you, to see your husband half naked, was always a treat, build like a fucking tank, every muscle defined till its maximum, but this time you wouldn’t do anything naughty with him, this could wait, until you knew that your children were all okay in their beds again.

To feel up his tense muscles opening the knots that had built in them, was everything you had needed at this moment. Even putting down some kisses, which obviously aroused both of you. Hands dancing on his massive back. Low music plays in the background, to lighten up the mood even more. If neither of you would’ve known better, that could’ve been a nanny night. 

But an ear-piercing scream emitting by you remembered you otherwise. Immediately you fell from Steves's back in agonizing pain. Your eyes are completely purple, with no sign of the fake eye color you showed everyone else.

„What is happening?“, Steve asked you distressed. You were in no way able to say anything. Only screams came out of your mouth.

It took all of the power you had, to just say one word, „Children“. In a split second, Steve jumped off of the bed, immediately dialing the police number.

He gave them the reference number and immediately got connected with a detective working on your case. „Our children are in danger, do you have any clues already?“, he asked panicked now for the lives of your children.

The detective was not as panicked as Steve would’ve wanted. Even saying, that it is very unlikely that someone would do anything to the children.

In the middle of their conversation, your screaming subsided. As soon as Steve realized that, his eyes widened in fear. His head turned to you, Standing in front of your bed. „Follow me,“ you told him in a demonic voice. Which he on the other hand gave to the detective. Before he could argue that, Steve told him, that the police, thanks to the charter you had gotten from the president himself, that the police force is responsible for all the damage you will do, in finding your children.

Which finally got him to realize, that this was a real problem and something bad had happened. While you were already leaving your home, Steve had hung up on the detective. Got something to put on his upper body, and ran behind you.

You just walked, so that wasn’t so hard. Your home on the outskirts of town, with a big garden and five well-behaved dogs, was still quickly left behind. Only Steve followed you, while your dogs were kept in the big garden.

Walking over roads, crashing cars, until you were deep in the city again. Where already multiple police cars waited, even special units. Warnings you to not go further. But you just ignored them, until one of them shot at you.

With the furry of a billion humans, you crushed their cars, guns, and even their armors, with only a movement of his hands and the purple mist surrounding everything.

After this small stop, you walked just further, now followed by hundreds of people. Walking through buildings, destroying small parks, until you came to a house on the other side of the city. In a suburban neighborhood.

In front of a white house, you suddenly stopped. Your hand stretching out, only one finger pointing to a big white house.

„House. Basement. Tortured.“

Just then, the purple vanished out of your eyes, leaving you a bit confused back. Two hands on your shoulders remembered you that Steve was always at your side. „Letting we the police officer go in first?“

Already knowing what they would find, you nod your head. Steve still had hoped, you could see it in his head, but you knew better. But were too angry to cry about it.

Steve called the police officers to you, telling them that this is the house, where your children are imprisoned. But they refused to just get in there. Knocking on the door also had no effect.

„Either you get in there or I will do it,“ you warned the officers one last time. They still did not want to budge. So you created a purple ball, throwing it directly against the door. It sucked up the entire thing, just to explode a moment later, ripping the entire front of the house apart. Stones, splinters, and everything in between flew through the air. You and the people behind you were protected, by shields you had projected. But not the police officers, you did not care for them at all.

„Two of you come with me,“ you ordered the police officers that had hidden behind you. Finally accepting your superiority, they followed. Until you came close to the basement door. „You will go downstairs and look, at what your incompetence did!“

And they just did that. What they saw will haunt them forever. You could only hear a couple of gunshots and then utter silence. A kind of silence, that could kill any hope that existed.

One of the police officers came back upstairs. The horror of what he had just witnessed was still apparent on his face. It was at that moment, that Steve realized that something horrible had happened.

„I’m sorry,“ was everything that the police officer was able to say. Before more cruisers came in, together with an ambulance.

You could feel, how they tried to get your boy to breathe again. But it was too late at that point. His soul is already beside you, grabbing your hand. There in front of everyone, you kneeled down, to the side of your child’s soul. Puts both hands on his shoulders. Which made him visible, a purple glimmer over his silhouette.

„Dad?“, he asked in a distorted voice. „What is happening?“

„You will go on an adventure, my son. A man will guide you through it, trust him completely okay?“ Able to see the confusion on his face, you kissed his forehead. „Now go, your time has come.“

Just with that, a purple portal opened, also for everyone to see, where a  strange man, in black veiling, hold out his hand to your son’s soul. Patiently waiting for him, to finally let go of you and the mortal realm. As he finally did it, the man looked at you, letting a small ball fly to you. „Thank you, m’lord,“ you whispered, on which he smiled gratefully. Before vanishing with your son, in the purple portal.

Everyone was shocked at this display, no one more than your husband himself. He had heard the stories of your kind of afterlife an adventure-filled dream until the soul is ready to be reborn. Which brought him to a daunting realization. At the same moment, a black sack was brought outside and put down on a stretcher.

„No, no, no, that can’t be right!“ Steve tried to reason, but death could not be reasoned with.

He tried to run to the stretcher, seeing, that it wasn’t his oldest son, that was in this black sack, like some trash, that must be brought out.

„You will not want to see him, Steve. But he wasn’t alone, when he died, I was at his side, holding his hand through it. If the police hadn’t stopped me, when I came into the city, he would still be alive and untouched by an older man, the husband of the woman that had stolen our children.“

His sadness changed to unbelief to complete and disastrous anger. He grabbed you, punching you multiple times. But you took it, knowing that he needed an outlet. You would talk later about it. Bruises formed on your body, as he was punching you. But you did not care. It was better he did this with you, than with the humans around you.

After he was powerless, falling into your arms, you put your own around him. „Don’t worry, they will pay for it.“

A week later, it was the day of your oldest son’s funeral. Your other children were found unharmed, even if a bit underfed. Back in your care, you had to tell them, that their oldest brother wasn’t alive anymore. They cried with you for days. Steve wasn’t there. Ashamed of himself.

Thousands of people, were at your son’s funeral, including the chief of police and even the president.

Because his soul was in with your people, his body could be buried on earth. No harm done there.

What happened after the funeral was the point, to break your patience. The chief of police apologized for not handling it the right way. But warned you, to do something like this never again. Implying he rather has dead children, than a half-destroyed city.

You were so enraged by him, that you killed him then and there. Right in front of all those people. „I had enough!“, you told them enraged in a demonic voice. A ship, that waited outside of the planet, visible now to everyone. Smaller ships came down onto the planet, transporters you asked them to send.

One hundred, well-equipped men stood around you after the transporter landed and flew back to your ship. „These are peacekeepers of my home world. Psychics, just like me. From now on, this city will be under the control of these men. Protecting everyone.

„And the chief of police wasn’t the only death just then. Everyone involved in the case not doing anything is dead now and it is their own damn fault!“

As Steve, the children and you came back home, finally back together as a family, you showed them the ball you had gotten the day your son’s soul vanished.

„This is a journey finder. Whenever we want, we can look at his adventure journey. Just to feel close to him again.“

To say that your husband and your children were already crying, which only got worse, as you showed what you meant. Seeing your boy camping, fighting against monsters, and living in a community where everyone helps the others, brought even more tears out. You had to explain to them, that this is another dimension of life, where he can live like in his dreams. And when he is finished, he will be reborn.

Fair to say, that this was the best night any of you had. Steve sleeping on the couch, still a bit distant because of the bruises he could still see on your face and body. But you ignored his wishes, just laid down beside him on the couch, cuddling into his back.

„How about a fourth kid?“, you asked him out of nowhere. „I always wanted more children, maybe even ten? They all could get to know their oldest brother, as long as his journey goes.“

Feeling him stiffen up again, was horrible to you. Crying for the up tenth time that day. He actually agreed. Not completely ready yet, but he was okay with starting the process again. Knowing that his first boy, was still there in some way, build him up massively.

At least something like this would not happen in this city ever again. Your own peacekeeper will make sure of this.

[Masterlist]

[sesamestreet47]

Is your bedroom ceiling bored?

Isabela Madrigal x fem!reader

she/her for the reader & she/her for Isabela

angst, song fic

the fic is heavily inspired by the song, so I recommend giving it a listen before reading!

word count: 2768

!english isn’t my first language, so there can be some grammar mistakes that I am sorry for in advance!

MASTERLIST

@sesamestreet47

“What about purple…?” Isabela muttered to herself.

With just a slight movement of her hand, the roses on her ceiling changed their color from red to purple. She was now staring at a massive combination of lavenders, mauves, violets and other shades of purple. Her body was sprawled all over her king-sized bed. Legs weirdly tangled in the covers, she could already feel the excruciating pain in her legs that she would suffer through the next morning. Her pillow was tucked under her head and her hair was lying all over the mattress. A few unfinished braids could be spotted here and there. The other pillow was lost somewhere in the sea of petals on the floor. It was just past two in the morning. Normally Isa would be asleep, making sure she gets the recommended eight hours of sleep. Beauty sleep. But tonight she just couldn’t get her eyes to close as they kept going back to the ceiling. Any longer and she’ll burn a hole in it with her gaze. Not feeling an ounce of tiredness, she observed the flowers above her, changing their colors every few moments.

This wasn’t the first time her body was refusing to drift off to sleep. It’s been like this for days now. Her brain was too busy. Too many thoughts occupied her mind. They all were about the same and one thing only. Y/N.

Y/N and her beautiful hair. Y/N and her charming smile. Y/N and her sweet voice. Y/N and her soft skin. Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. She heard her name over and over, that little voice in her head was repeating it all the time just to taunt her.

Isa sighed and rolled over. She was now lying on her side with her left palm under her cheek. She looked at her right hand before opening it and soon a little daisy blossomed from it. She twirled it in her fingers and ripped a single petal.

“She loves me…” Isa muttered. “She loves me not…”

And she whispered those words as she ripped the petals not caring where they land. “She loves me not…” she said when the last petal was ripped. Isa let out a shaky breath. Her eyes drifted back to the ceiling. The vibrant, purple flowers that used to be there, were now dark and few petals were scrunched. They started to fall off.

“Jeez, I’m making the flowers wither with my stupid sulking,” Isa groaned. Why did Y/N make her feel this way? She made her heart dance when she touched her, smiled at her, sang with her. But she made her eyes wet when she talked with someone else, laughed with someone else, spent time with someone else. It’s always someone else, never Isabela. Will it ever be? She could only hope.

Isabela sat up on her bed making the daisy’s petals fall off of her chest. She gently placed her feet on the flower carpet. She stretched her muscles and stood up, slowly making her way towards her glowing door. She had no idea why she got the urge to leave her bedroom, she just decided to get out before all the plants drop dead. She stood next to the barriers, the only other sources of light were the faintly glowing doors and the moon above her. She looked up at it noticing that it was full. She pressed her lips into a thin line looking away as she remembered the last night like this.

“You’re interrupting my date, Isa,” Y/N said from the ground.

Isabela’s eyes widened in surprise. “How did you know I was here?”

“You’re the only one who smells like orchids 24/7.” the girl turned her head to look at the Madrigal girl. “My nose has been twitching for a while.”

Isabela smiled and walked over to her friend, her hands fiddling with her dress. She sat down next to her laying figure. Y/N repositioned herself and put her head on Isa’s lap. Isabela started playing with Y/N locks, ignoring the pink hue that adorned her nose.

“Yeah, no, it’s fine, you can third-wheel,” Y/N said sarcastically.

“What are you talking about?” Isa chuckled amused.

“My date. With the moon, dummy.” Y/N pointed at the night sky. Isa laughed a little too loudly, making the girl on her lap smack her arm. Isabela looked down with a tender smile and half-lidded eyes. She booped Y/N’s nose playfully. Y/N scrunched her nose and Isa thought she was the cutest human being in the world. 

Actually, in Isa’s mind, Y/N was beautiful. All kinds of beautiful. In her mind, Y/N was all kinds of beauty. Beautifully cute when she was teasing Isa. Beautifully pretty when the sun was setting and illuminating her figure and when she danced or sang with Isabela. Beautifully breath-taking when she was sitting on her bed with scrunched papers and opened notebooks around her with her eyes focused on the poem she was writing. Isa could practically hear the gears working in her mind when she tried to put a certain feeling into words. She often wondered what secrets does that lovely head of hers kept. 

Yes, Y/N was definitely a beautiful girl.

“Why are you out here?” Y/N said after a while.

“I could ask you the same thing,”

“Oh, I can make up an excuse,” Y/N defended herself.” but you can’t. It’s your parents’ anniversary party after all.”

“Yeah, I know…” Isa sigehd.

“Oh crap, what is it?” Y/N sat up alarmed. She cupped Isa’s face. “Why is there a frown on tu hermosa cara?”

Isabela’s throat went dry at the feeling of Y/N’s fingers gently caressing her skin. She looked to the side to prevent herself from passing out if she was to meet her heavy gaze.

“It’s nothing,” she laughed nervously removing Y/N’s hands from her face. “I’m okay.”

“Ay, Isa, lying doesn’t suit you,”

“Fine…” Isa sounded defeated. “Too much love.”

Y/N snorted. “What the heck does that mean?”

“It’s too love-dovey in there.” Isabela pointed at the Casita.

Y/N was full on laughing right now. Isa’s eyebrows scrunched not understaning what she said that made her friend gasp for air. She blew some daisies in her face successfully making her calm down.

“I don’t think that’s the case,” Y/N breathed out. “You’re just jealous.”

“Jealous?” Isa exclaimed almost offended. 

Before she could argue more, Y/N put a hand on her mouth. “Yes, that’s what I said,” she deadpanned. Her hand remained on her lips. Isa prayed she wouldn’t burn Y/N’s palm with her hot-like-sun cheeks. “You can deny it all you want, and most people would probably believe you, but not me. You’re a hopeless romantic.”

Isa rolled her eyes swatting the girl’s hand from her face. Y/N smirked and sat crossed legged in front of Isa. She leaned in making Isa lean back. She hated how flustered she became just from a few touches.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about…” Isa stuttered. 

Y/N scoffed.“You just wish you found someone, like your mom found your dad,”

What if I already have?

What if that person is sitting dangerously close to me?

What if I want to kiss her and grow sunflowers for her because I know she prefers them from roses?

What if I want to throw an anniversary party for her and I in a couple of years, like my parents did?

“Come,” Y/N interrupted Isabela’s thoughts. “Let’s get back inside. I’m feeling like dancing.”Isa’s eyes trailed over Y/N as she stood up. She got up as well and followed the girl back to Casita. Her eyes not once leaving her.

What if I found you, Y/N?

Isabela sighed. Ever since that night, she had cursed herself for not saying those thoughts out loud. They were in her mind, on folded pieces of paper scattered across her floor (probably covered by many flowers by now), but not out in the open. Locked from anyone’s sight, especially the girl’s in question.

Isa looked at the moon, thinking how annoyed he must be with her. Watching her so pathetically falling in love and not being able to help. Not able to give her some guidance. 

She turned on her heel deciding that she’ll force herself to sleep if she had to. She was definitely sleep-deprived by now, she was expecting help from the moon.

A little bit further away, in a house in the middle of the village, and a few hours later, another girl had just woken up. Her eyelids felt heavy and her eyes stung a bit. Her head was spinning. She was tired. The dream she had, didn’t let her sleep peacefully. Y/N looked out her window. The rising sun hit her face making her wince and groan, She shielded herself from it. But soon she found the rays quite comforting as they were nicely warming up her forehead and cheeks. She looked at the alarm clock beside her bed and sighed exasperatedly seeing it was just past five in the morning. With a roll of her eyes, she let her head hit the pillow with a light thump. She ran her fingers through her hair slightly tugging on it. She stared at her ceiling that over the years she covered with her favorite poems. All about love.

“Stupid, stupid, stupid…” she cursed herself. “Stupid me, stupid Señorita Perfecta!”

The reason why Y/N couldn’t get a goodnight sleep was no other than Isabela Madrigal. The oldest, the most graceful, the most flawless of the magical family. She once again visited Y/N in her dreams. Why? That was a hard question, Y/N didn’t have a clear answer for that. Isabela had been making her feel things she didn’t know she could feel. Things that felt nice but also things that made her panic a bit. Girls were confusing. Isa was even more so. When she gracefully walked around the plaza, Y/N’s first thought would be to hold her hand. But then another thought would creep in, thought that by holding said hand some of Isa’s perfection would rub off on her. Nasty thought. Y/N didn’t like it. Every time her eyes landed on Isa, the same chaotic thing would happen in her mind. The need to be with Isa was quickly followed by a dismissive thought that tried to convince her it was just the need to be like Isa. Y/N hated the overthinking that so often took place inside of her head.

She lazily rolled from her bed letting her body hit the floor. She stood up with a grumble and stumbled to her mirror. She rubbed the sleep off of her eyes and gazed over her reflection. Y/N found her own eyes and looked deeply into them as if waiting for the girl in the mirror to answer all her questions.

Do I want to be like Isa?

Who wouldn’t? She’s a magical goddess.

Do I want that?

Or do I wanna be with Isa?

Do I want to kiss her? 

I do. But is it because I like her or because she has perfect lips?

Isa is a great friend, I love her. But do I love her as a friend or as a pathetic simp?

Only one question left her mouth though. “Who is Isabela to me?”

But when her reflection didn’t answer, she sighed and slapped herself. Her eyes drifted to a piece of paper that was tucked in the corner of the mirror. It was yet another poem, one written by Y/N herself. It was about Isabela.

“Of course it’s about her,” she chuckled dryly.

It was written back when they had just started hanging out. A long time ago, a couple of years at least. Y/N scrunched her nose when looking at the words over and over again. Up until now, the poem was purely platonic. Just a poem about a girl that Y/N wanted to befriend. But when she reread those sentences, she saw the platonic love she poured into the words change into a romantic one. God damn, so she was a simp after all.

“Every gesture, every move that she makes

Makes me feel like never before

Why do I have

This growing need to be beside her?”

Y/N slapped herself again. She must’ve been high (on love) to think that this was in any way platonic.

“Ay, dios mío…” she muttered when she realized what a dumbass she was. She walked over to her window and sat by it. The rising sun caught her eye. A mix or oranges, pinks, reds, purples. Wherever she looked, some part of Isa would be there apparently.Y/N closed her eyes and let the warmth of the sun consume her. Once again the flower-growing girl appeared in her mind. And she brought a certain memory with her from a week ago.

“What?” Isa said in disbelief.

“Yeah, my mom found me someone,”

Y/N’s mother grew tired of her daughter messing around. She thought the age of twenty-two was perfect for settling down. So, when she noticed Y/N had no interest in anyone, she decided to take the matter into her own hands. 

“It’s not serious. She wants me to date him first and then we’ll see about the wedding.” Y/N rubbed her neck. “But knowing mami, she already has grandkids’ names listed somewhere.”

Isabela didn’t laugh at Y/N’s attempt to lighten up the mood.

“Wow, I-” Isa started. 

Y/N stared at her with hope and worry in her eyes. 

Stop this, Isa.

I don’t want this, you know I don’t.

You can stop it, you’re a Madrigal, they’ll listen to you.

Isa, please.

Fight for me.

Say something.

Look at me. 

Isa, look at me!

But Isa didn’t look up as Y/N didn’t say any of this out loud. The unspoken thoughts scratched her throat like they wanted to claw their way out. Y/N stared at Isabela, eyes burning from the tears that were threatening to escape. She started playing with her fingers and biting her lip. Why won’t she look at her? She wished she would glance at least. That would be enough.  Enough to show her she wasn’t delusional and what they had was something more than friendship. Enough to show her that just like Y/N, Isa was breaking inside. Enough to show her that she cared. But their eyes never met.

“I’m happy for you Y/N,” Isa whispered.

So I’m not a girl worth fighting for…

Y/N could write, but she couldn’t talk. Every single thing she wanted Isa to hear her say, was written down on a piece of paper and safely tucked in the drawer of her desk. Thinking of it now, Y/N had no idea what she wanted to accomplish by that. Did she expect a white pigeon to break into her room, open the drawer and deliver the letters to Isabela? Yeah, right. Or did she just hope to cage the feelings, hoping they’d eventually get forgotten? That would be easier, wouldn’t it?

“Coward…” she called herself still staring at the sun. She tilted her head and shot the big star a challenging look.

“Huh, you’re probably enjoying this?” she asked temptingly. “Here I am, having a total meltdown and you’re just standing there, shining stupidly… Asshole…”

She hugged her knees and blew the loose locks from her forehead. She really needed to get some good sleep soon. She was talking to the sun. She must be losing it.

Y/N went back to her bed. She plopped down onto the mattress. She lied in a starfish position looking at the ceiling. She grimaced quietly wishing she had never put those pieces of poetry up there.

“Ay, Isa…” she sighed dreamily. “I wish I knew how I felt about you before.”

“Why didn’t I tell you how I felt?”

Two girls lied in their beds asking themselves the same question. Both of them were staring at a “love-filled” ceiling. One with roses, the other with love poems. Both ceilings were equally bored of the girls beating themselves up for being such cowards. They wished they could help them. 

Get up! 

Talk to her! 

Kiss her or something!

But they couldn’t so they just stared and grew more and more bored each day and night.

MASTERLIST

the poem is a verse from the song “Strangers Like Me” from Tarzan

there’s also a Mulan reference :)

@sesamestreet47

[sirthisisa-wendys]

One Wall Over: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: you’re new in the neighborhood, but that doesn’t mean you’ll get a warm welcome from your duplex buddy. 

wc: 3k

tw: nsfw, smut, annoying noises at five am, the works 

a/n: ahhhhhhhhh! I am so excited to be taking part in this collab with @suna-reversed reversed for a super sexy jjk collab! Please check out the masterlist for the collab here and the other authors! SO EXCITED TO READ THE OTHERS! (The other title I had for this work is “First of All, How Dare You” because that’s literally me every time I see my hubby Suguru, but anywho!).

Moving in was a bitch. 

For the first time ever, you have no roommates, no parents, and no pets - just you and your meager belongings moving into the little, two-story duplex a friend allowed you to sublet. As you stare out of the window facing the sparse front lawn, you wonder what your neighbor is like. They hadn’t come to welcome you to the home, but you knew they existed by the sound of the bass through your shared wall at five am every morning. 

You assume they’re male or a couple, but you’ve never gotten a chance to see them with your own two eyes.  So you kept a lookout day after day. At exactly four p.m., you would sit across from the window with a book and keep watch, the sun streaming in and illuminating your figure and crossed legs anchored on the window sill. But day after day, you wouldn’t see anything. The neighbor’s car wouldn’t even move an inch from the previous day. Everything would remain the same until the next day when you took your perch by the window. 

It isn’t until you’re out on your front lawn, slaving over the flowers you maintained for a whole month - a new record - that the sleek Range Rover drives up to the garage on your neighbor’s side of the house. At first, you don’t notice it, your eyes firmly planted on the soil at the root of your orchid tree. But then you hear a car door slam, and you look up, watching for the person who would be exiting the vehicle. 

A tall, black haired man slides out of the truck and slams the door shut, his locks tucked into a half bun and a white towel resting around his rippling shoulders. He slides his keys into his gym shorts and turns to walk into the house, barely noticing you on the front lawn in an ill-fitting t-shirt and dirty yoga pants. 

He’s halfway to his front door when you find your voice and yell out, “Hey, neighbor!” You wave your hand at him in hopes that he would return the gesture, but you’re sorely disappointed when he only looks your way with disinterest and walks into the house without speaking. You frown at the encounter, hoping that he would return a little while later and explain his lack of manners, but he doesn’t, and you retreat into the house once more. 

______________________________________________________________________

“Unzzz, unzz, unzzzz…” Both eyes fly open at the sound of the bass on the other side of your bedroom wall, the sudden noise jarring you from your sleep. 

“Ugh…” Your eyes slide to the white numbers on the clock face, which politely remind you that it’s five-fifteen AM. Don’t confront him, don’t confront him. You wrap the pillow around your ears, hoping the gentle cushion would block out the sound. But for some reason, it gets even louder, and a groan escapes your lips. There were only two more hours for you to rest, but at this rate, you’d be up until it was time for you to wake and get ready for work. That just wouldn’t do. 

The grey sweatpants deposited on the floor the night before are quickly jerked on, and you pad to the front door, not caring about your appearance as you walk the length of the porch over to his front door. Inhaling, you find the will to bring your fist up and pound on the door, hoping the sound would be angrier than you actually felt. Fear ate at your nerves while you waited. A few agonizing moments later, the door is yanked open, music floods outside, and your neighbor stands before you in just a pair of black sweatpants. Nothing else. 

“What?” he gripes, sweat rolling down his forehead. As your eyes take in the full sight of him, you wonder what kind of sculpted god you had for a neighbor. You could even faintly see the v that would culminate in the bulge near the crotch area of the pants, which apparently is quite--

“Uh…” You had entirely forgotten what you had come over to his side of the house for, but as he leans on the doorframe and gives you a withering stare, you suddenly remember your complaint. “Your wall is next to my bedroom. Can you turn your music down?” You place a hand on your hip, trying to seem more inconvenienced than you actually were in that moment. 

“Yeah, sure.” He shuts the door in your face, and you trudge back over to your side of the house, hoping the music would soften. 

But for some reason, you swear he turns it up even louder. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“Why don’t you just call the landlord and make a noise complaint?” your friend wonders over the phone, the sound of a frying pan in the background slightly overshadowing her voice.

“But you said you didn’t have any problems with him, Mariela.” 

“Yeah, Geto was nice enough and didn’t bother me much. Not sure why he’s being such an ass now.” You hear an oh, shit on the other end, and Mariela hisses into the receiver, “Hey, y/n, I have to go; the risotto is burning. Call me back if you have any other issues, okay?” 

“Okay.” You hang up and toss your phone on your desk, trying to focus on the words in front of you but failing as the sound of the bass filters through the other side of the wall again. For the fourth day in a row, you’ve been subjected to the sound of pure noise coming through the other side. Tonight was absolutely not the night, mostly because you had a presentation that took you all night to finish, and the clamor was interrupting your prep work for the bright and early eight o’clock meeting. You feel like Squidward, subjecting yourself to the endless noises from the grunting to the bass to the sound of weights clanking back into place. 

It’s the sound of Geto’s groaning that sets you on edge the most. If it weren’t for the added noise of weights, you’d be convinced he was fucking someone. There was no way he could make so much noise and not know that he was disturbing your peace. Hadn’t he ever heard of headphones? 

You snatch up your set of earbuds on your desk, place them in your ears, and try to turn up lofi music as loud as it will go. But that doesn’t work. Even relocating to the living room didn’t seem to fare you well, and you wonder if he truly had cranked up the music higher than before just to annoy the hell out of you. Finally, you toss your earbuds down and slam your computer on your coffee table. 

You’d had enough. 

Stomping over to the front door, you fling it open and bang on Geto’s door, hoping he would answer it in a rage so you could let out your frustrations. But when the door flies open, he’s dressed in only a pair of gym shorts, this time the outline of his dick even more apparent. But you’re not focused on that. You point a finger at him and inhale to begin your tirade; sick and utterly over his shit.

“Hey! Can you fucking turn it down?” Geto stretches out a hand, and for a minute you think he’s going to grab you by the shirt, but he pulls you inside by the wrist, crushing you against his chest. “What the hell?” You push away from his sweaty chest, backing into the closed door harshly. 

“Lower your damn voice; the neighbors will hear,” he chastises, and turns away from you to grab the water bottle on the counter. The muscled man takes a long swig, then wipes his face with the towel right next to it. 

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is, but I’ve never been so disrespected in my li--” As you talk, he’s advancing on you, pushing back his long black hair back behind his ears and getting too close for comfort. Once he’s right up on you, you gulp hard, fully intimidated by his size and stature. The music suddenly stops, and you’re left in silence. 

“I’m listening,” he mutters, staring down at you. “Please, continue.” 

“I was saying…” your throat dries up. “What I meant was…” Your eyes travel from his chest to his navel, and then to the hand pressed against the doorframe.

“Uh huh…” He nods, squinting his black eyes at you. “You said you’ve ‘never been more disrespected in your’… life, right?” You don’t reply. Rather, you can’t reply. All of the words you could have ever said are now gone from your skull. “I highly doubt that, y/n.” 

“H-how…” 

“You’re Mariela’s friend. I’ve seen you quite a few times before you moved in here. Never thought I’d be living so close to you, though. Mariela’s subletting, isn’t she?” 

All of these questions. And you can’t reply to a single one because he’s practically squeezing you between the door and his rock-hard abs. Or are you pressing yourself against the door to get away from the heat emitting from his body - oh, fuck; you don’t know. 

“But I had to get your attention somehow.” The admission startles you so bad that you accidentally knock the back of your head against the door, touching the point of contact in pain and hissing slightly. Geto hums at your blunder, then pushes off of the wall to turn away from you. As he rotates, you catch a glimpse of his erection, now fully apparent in the atrocity that is his shorts. “The yard work wasn’t effective, the trips to the gym and back barely worked; shit, by now I would’ve thought you would throw yourself at me the first chance you got. I guess I had to make you mad enough to confront me.” 

“You literally looked at me and said nothing the first time I saw you!” you retort, throwing your hands up in the air. “Then you almost bit my head off the first time I came over to tell you the music was too loud.” 

“I didn’t expect you to come over the first time. Besides, I couldn’t figure out anything smooth enough in that short amount of time.” Geto shrugs, his shoulder muscles moving like water in the dim lighting of the living room. You look around at the furnishings, noting his impeccable taste in wood and red suede in conjunction with his minimal exercise equipment. “Coffee? You look like you’ve been up for a while.” He leans over a coffee-maker - one of those fancy ones that you’ve seen on TV - and slides a plain coffee cup into the holder. 

“Uh, no thanks.” You turn to the door and begin to open it, but Geto clicks his tongue thrice. 

“You’re just going to leave without getting what you came for?”

You pause for a moment, then turn back to look him over once. “Don’t you mean what you brought me over here for?” A lazy smile spreads across his face, and that’s when you realize that he’s charming, but not necessarily as suave as you first imagined. You shut the door and walk over to him, examining his physique as if you hadn’t just helped yourself to his tall, statuesque figure already. He allows you to look him over, eyes dedicatedly following you.

“Like what you see, doll?” You don’t get a chance to answer as he pulls you into his chest with a smooth movement, then presses his lips against yours. You instantly open your mouth so he can slide his tongue inside, and he does so without hesitation. Hands grasp at your flimsy night shirt, pulling it over your shoulders as he backs you up against the wall, hiking one leg up and wrapping the other around his waist. 

As both of your hands tangle in hair, fabric, sweat, you wonder how long - just how long - he’s wanted to do this. But your train of thought is rudely interrupted by his lips trailing kiss down your neck and to your collarbone, where he pauses for a second, catching his breath. Fingers dance through his locks and he peers up at you for a second, drinking in your flushed expression and breathy exhales. 

“Geto, please, I--” You’re silenced again by his lips, his thick fingers rolling past the waistband of your night shorts and right to your core, where he nestles them into your heat with ease. 

“Goddamn…” The rumbling of his voice vibrates against your chest, and you gasp, feeling every stroke of his fingers inside of you. “So fucking wet… just for me.” Your vision narrows in on the black eyes watching your every move, the angle of your face, the way you tilt your chin to the side and shakily exhale. Everything is perfect. Maybe even better than he imagined at first. But you don’t know that, and you really don’t care to know. All you want is release and for that release to be at Geto’s hands. When he removes his fingers and hoists you onto the suede couch, your first reaction is to cry out in shock. 

His hands roll your shorts down to your knees and then press your legs open, spreading you for him to examine. 

“You’re a mess down there… perhaps I should help you clean up.” 

“Huh?” The double entendre is completely lost on you in the heat of the moment. You watch as he leans down, then moves to lick your core with a flat tongue, stroking up before he goes down again and repeats his action twice. Your head finds the soft cushion of the pillow in ecstasy, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. 

Geto hums down below, fully appreciating your taste before sucking on your clit, hard. You yelp, shooting up, but his hand presses you back down, eyes still closed. Fingers make their way up to your breasts, tugging at your nipples leisurely before tightening and pulling with more tension. “Oh, god, please…” Your hands find his head, and at the sudden application of pressure, he grunts again. And you’re left there in agonizing pleasure, dangling between an orgasm and a build-up of pressure, one stroke away from tumbling into the cavern of blissful unawareness. 

Geto stops without warning, pulling back to watch you as he still tweaks your nipples with varying degrees of firmness. You tug at his shorts in a silent plea for him to discard them, and he waits a minute before sliding them off wordlessly. His length is impressive, you note, his cock springing free from his shorts and angled upwards a little. A condom is produced just as quickly, and he rolls it over himself before spreading you a little wider to accommodate his length. When he nudges his cock at your slit, you realise he’s a little breathless and shaking, but that all goes to the back of your mind when he slides inside of you with little resistance. 

“Fuck, doll, that’s--” He groans just as you moan, both of you relishing the expanding feeling. “God, that’s perfect.” You whimper at his praise and bring your hands to his shoulders, holding on for dear life as he begins to pump into you. Geto’s lips find your neck and he sucks a hickey on your left side, placing another one neatly below it while his hands cup your ass. 

“Does that feel good?” He whispers and you nod, completely at a loss for words. But soon, it’s not enough, and your fingers dig into his back. He’s fucking you slowly… too slowly. 

“M-more,” you whine, and he delivers his thrusts faster, pumping into you and moaning loudly. Your fingers find his face and angles it towards your raised head so you can kiss him on the lips. He offers you that mercy - a deep, languid kiss - while he plows into you with abandon. Pleasure is the only thing on your minds - you just so happen to have found it in each other’s arms - and your orgasm is just within reach.

“Geto, I’m close…” His response to your words is to lift your left leg a little higher so it practically hung off the couch and in the air, deeping his strokes until they settled against your cervix, like someone tapping a soft rhythm into your stomach. “Shit, like that.” 

“Yeah?” he exhales, looking at your face with a blissed-out expression, his cheeks reddening. You raise your hips to meet his with each thrust, hoping your orgasm would arrive before Geto came. There isn’t much you can do though, besides writhe beneath him and pull him closer to you, thereby making you and him almost inseparable. He’s merely rocking into your hips now, cock barely rolling out of you as before. And you can’t deny that it feels like heaven, not when you’ve been so frustrated for so long. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Geto hisses into your mouth, and you nod, constricting a little to urge him on. What you fail to realize is that the constriction was just what you need to tumble over into the abyss of thoughtlessness, and your mouth opens to let loose a guttural moan as Geto fucks you faster and faster, chasing his own orgasm on the heels of yours. “Oh, shit,” Your neighbor sinks into you one final time, shooting his cum into the condom, but pumping in stuttered strokes as if he were really letting loose inside of you. 

When you both fall from the heights of your sex-induced high, shoulders and heads are draped where there is comfort and space, little exhales from his mouth fanning across your breasts. Geto lifts off of your sweaty chest and looks you in the eyes before breathing: 

“Maybe I should start my days with this instead of a workout.”

[yoongsisbae]

Run Run Run - Yangyang Living (Part 2)

A zombie apocalypse breaks out and you’re stuck on a plane with none other than…BTS! Oh, you thought because you were an Army that would help you survive? Girl think again.

OT7 BTS Zombie Apocalypse AU / BTS member x reader slow burn

Lmao yall really want BTS dead after the last chapter! I am happy to oblige. I didn’t know if I should unrealistically let them all survive or not lol on one hand it's just statistically not in their favor, but also it pains me to even just off one of them cries. But I can get behind a last man standing gets y/n story, so let’s goooo! Hopefully yall don’t change your minds after reading this chapter (too late now)! :D

Warnings: death, monsters, blood, fighting, killing, gory details, y/n curses like a sailor, humans being shitty, attempted sexual assault on multiple occasions because men still suck post apocalypse

Word Count: 7.4k

---

You sit on the airport runway, the sun's heat warms up your face and dries your tears. You look up to the sky and you scream at no one. You can already hear the low groaning of the undead coming closer to you, and you feel sick, you feel hurt, you feel angry at the world.

If you survive this, and if you ever meet BTS again, you plan on making this moment their worst regret!

---

It’s been four months of pure hell. You’ve managed to survive like a mouse. Hiding most of the time in blocked off corners, learning how to stealthily sneak in and out of rooms.

You stayed at the airport for four whole months, eating like a king in the new world, there were enough restaurants and staff kitchens to have a different meal every night. Eventually the power went out and you had to get creative.

You collected weapons and new clothes by breaking into suitcases and back rooms. Your entertainment became books and magazines from the gift shop. Your new workout became running away from the undead.

By the 100th day (because you kept count), you could barely take it anymore: the loneliness, having to survive in the shadows, the killing.

Do you have to become a monster to win against one? You guess the answer had always been yes. When finally ending an undead life there was a finality to it that made you feel like a grim reaper, giving final rest to people who used to be sons or daughters.

Even if they showed signs of already being dead, it felt like you were murdering people. You were still cutting throats, stabbing muscle, it made you sick.

You hated it, you started to hate living, but most of all, you hated surviving alone. No one there survived, except for you, and it felt more like a curse than a blessing.

You needed something new, you needed to find anything, anything is better than living amongst the dead. Surrounded and all alone. So you made plans to leave.

Consolidating everything you needed into one backpack, you buried your suitcase with all the unnecessities of your old life. You even made a tombstone: "HERE LIES MY BAGGAGE."

And then you started your mission to leave the place that had become your home before it became your funeral home.

One day you found a bike, and that became your dependable transportation in the new world free of electricity.

You had hoped once you left the airport you would be transported back into a reality where monsters didn’t exist, where you didn’t have to survive off of vending machine food and sleep with one eye open, when your biggest worry was paying your rent on time. But passing by the crashed cars abandoned on the road, you come to the somber realization that you might never have to worry about bills ever again.

---

You used to bike during the day, but you stopped. The third day on the road you found another person, and the bastard tried to steal your bike. Your immense high of finding another breathing human being came crashing down so magnificently when he acted no better than a monster.

The seventh day, you found a couple who welcomed you, but only because they wanted your supplies, and you managed to get away from them before they took everything. The tenth day you found a group of men who just wanted you. You almost died that day in more ways than one. Luckily your screams alerted a different kind of monster, and you were never happier watching them eat your captors. And then you were able to enact your revenge without any remorse.

Ever since that day you bike at night time. Even if the monsters are more active after dark, you know other humans would never dare to go out at night, and after everything, you would rather deal with monsters. At least you can count on them for one thing, to try to eat you. Humans are unpredictable, disappointing, and in your opinion, now somehow worse than the undead.

You rather just fight the monsters on your own. You're quiet enough and fast enough on your bike to pass by most of them anyways. Do you regret leaving the airport? No, not when the fresh air smelled so sweet as you biked through the night and the cold wind stung your skin reminding how alive you still were. Do you regret wanting human company? Sometimes.

---

You’re happy the day you find a convenience store. The place is pitch black inside. You’ve learned to wait, to take your time, until your eyes adjust to the darkness and you’ve studied the layout of the store. You have all the time in the world now, ‘better make the most of it,’ you think.

When you walk in, two monsters amble towards you. You’ve learned not to scream. You’ve learned to aim for their eyes. If you can hit their eye with your knife they die instantly, and even if it’s a bit gruesome, it’s better for you and you hope better for them too. Quick, quiet, knife in and out.

You find some unopened sodas and canned food. You sit on top of a car and eat the convenience store food and a raw onion from your pack. The sting of the onion on your taste buds reminds you once again how you differ from the undead. You’ve become a bit of a masochist in that way, enjoying all the unpleasantries of human living. You welcome the ache in your feet, and the shivers at night, and the itch on your skin from bug bites, because all those things meant you were still alive, alive enough to keep fighting.

You watch the moon and you wonder who else is watching it with you. Is it your parents? Maybe your friends, you make a wish that they’re safe.

You make your way back inside and find a cabinet and knock the shelves out, and that’s your bed for the night. Like a mouse.

---

Sounds of movement wake you up. It’s morning, the sun shining through the cracks of your hiding spot signals the day. You hear people talking. Real live people. You slowly open the door, because sneaking up on living people is not as easy.

You see long black hair still dyed at the ends, and then he turns around.

“YOU!” You both say at the same time.

Kim Namjoon is the first alive person you’ve seen in nearly a month. Unfortunately for him, you didn’t forget what he and the rest of BTS did to you. So, as you fantasized a hundred times before, your body acted on its own and you punched the leader right in his face.

You fight. Well, you punch him and he blocks you, until Namjoon has you pinned down on the ground.

“Stop! Calm down!” Namjoon hushes.

“You-you asshole!” You scream, cheek pushed against the convenience store floor as you try to kick him off you.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. Just stop yelling!”

“You’re yelling!” Even if he’s thinner than you remember, he still easily overpowers you. You push off the ground as hard as you can but you’ve only managed to turn yourself around under Namjoon’s large body.

“Hyung!” Jimin and Jungkook run towards the commotion to see their leader and you.

You both look up at their surprised faces and Namjoon is acutely aware of his position, his body between your legs, holding your arms down, and he quickly jumps off of you.

“It’s you.”

“And you, you crazy bastard! You fucker! Ass! Bitch! Motherfucking-” You throw every Korean and English curse word you can think of at them before Namjoon grabs you and covers your mouth.

The trio stare at you stunned while you seethe. So many times have people died and reanimated in their lives, but you came back like you walked through time and landed half a year later right at their feet, back with a vengeance.

You glared up at them, you looked practically the same as when they last saw you, albeit longer hair, wearing oversized clothes that weren’t your own, but your eyes, filled with betrayal, were exactly the same.

You looked cleaner than them, healthier than them, definitely much livelier than them and it reminded Jungkook, Namjoon, and Jimin of the world they had almost forgotten, or chose to forget.

“Are you alone? Come with us.” Jungkook says, and you laugh against Namjoon’s palm.

“Mmm mmm!” You tell them to go away.

Jungkook looks at his brothers for support. “Come with us, please,” Jungkook repeats.

Oh no, it’s a little too late now. You glare at the trio, if you hadn’t been a fan before you’re not sure you would have recognized them. Their good looking features were covered in a thin layer of grime and sweat, they didn’t look like idols anymore, they looked like broken men.

Namjoon lets go of you with a yelp when you bite his hand. “I don’t trust you.” You grit out. “Leave me alone. You left me alone once, go do it again.”

When they all just stare at you, you grab the knife from your back pocket and hold it in front of you, “Leave! Before I…” you grip the handle with both of your hands.

Jimin grabs the pair away from you, but Jungkook won’t budge.

He kneels on his legs, and puts his head on the ground at your feet.

“Please forgive us.”

Namjoon nurses his nose and slowly lowers himself too. You stare at the tops of their heads, too shocked to speak. When you look up at Jimin, he looks away, and he too lowers himself on his knees.

There were a hundred different ways you had dreamed about meeting BTS again, all involving you enacting your own kind of revenge until they were begging you for forgiveness, all that left you satisfied. But now as you watched Namjoon and Jungkook, heads on the dirty ground, it didn’t feel good at all. You scoot away from them, putting the knife back into your pocket. You look at Jimin who stares back at you. He looks tired and scared.

“I...don’t forgive you. Just please get up…”

No one moves or says anything, and how long did this stalemate last? 10 minutes? 1 hour? 10 hours? Approximately 40 seconds.

You stand up, looking ahead of you. “Where are we going?”

---

You stay quiet as you help the men fill the trunk of their car with supplies from the convenience store. It’s a different car than the one at the airport. This one is smaller, older. You find rope to secure your bike to the top. You slap away Namjoon’s hand when he touches your bike, and he looks at you apologetically.

You take a seat in the back with Jimin, preparing yourself for the most awkward car ride of your life.

“Did um, everyone else make it too? Is that where we are going?”

Jimin nods. Does that nod mean yes, everyone made it? You don’t ask for clarification, not wanting to press the topic.

You look out the window, Namjoon is driving so slow you are sure you could beat him on your bike.

“Oh my god, RM, you’re driving!”

“Huh? Oh, yeah,” He laughs, it’s been a while since anyone has called him ‘RM.’ Jungkook will still jokingly call him Rap Monster, but even Jungkook’s jokes have been declining lately.

“You drive like a grandma.”

Jimin snickers next to you, and Jungkook turns around in his seat to stare at you.

“I’m trying to be safe.”

“We are literally the only car on the road.”

Namjoon turns his signal on, turning left. “I don’t want to cause any attention...from the dead or the alive.”

You sigh. “I guess you’re right.” You lean into the front seat, startling all three of the men.

“Is there any radio or anything? Um, any signs of life?”

“For the first two weeks there was an emergency broadcast, and then it just stopped…”

“I’m guessing no CDs?” You look at Jungkook and he shakes his head, and you pout. You missed music. You missed fun.

“Sit back, it’s dangerous.” Jimin pulls you by your waist.

“You do notice how he is barely into second gear.”

“You’re distracting him.” Jimin says. You scoff.

“I’m sitting in a car with three singers and there's no music…” They ignore your egging and you sigh. You stare at the back of Namjoon’s head, at his red ears. And then Jungkook, ears red. When you turn your attention to Jimin, he stares back at you, and you return your gaze to the window. This is going to be a long ride.

Eventually, you reach their sanctuary. The car tires trek across the dirt road, you listen to the gravel crunch beneath the vehicle. A sound you thought you’d never hear again. It’s weird how nostalgic you’ve become. How emotional you feel by the mundane. Your heart beats faster when you see a house. Jimin must have noticed your emotional state because he squeezes your shoulder causing you to jump.

“We’re here.” His voice is soft and soothing, and you’re reminded that you used to listen to his soft voice sing beautiful songs. This man used to be on top of the world, and now he lives hidden away in the country.

You're the last to enter the house, and your arrival is nothing less than shocking to the people inside.

You look around the room, there’s only the members, the same security guard who managed to keep all his muscles in the apocalypse, an older man you don’t know, and there’s-

THAT MOTHER FUCKER WHO LEFT YOU FOR DEAD.

You try to contain your outrage as a name that sounds almost like yours leaves his lips in surprise. That asshole Dev couldn’t even remember your name

“Nevermind, I’m leaving,” you mutter. You spin on your heels. Namjoon grabs your arm, confused.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not staying here with him.” You point to the blonde man and he shrinks away.

“Hold on, hold on!” Before you can protest further, Namjoon is dragging you inside, into another room, as the rest of the men watches in shocked silence.

---

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? How do you know him?” Namjoon looks exhausted and totally unprepared for your unadulterated rage.

“He was on our flight. He threw me to the zombies, like actually threw me!” You try to whisper, but it comes out as a strangled yell. “It was practically attempted murder!”

“No, he wouldn't do that...”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing, he is actually defending that psycho!

“Okay, okay, it makes sense, you did the same thing to me, left me to die. Of course you would become friends with him.” You go to leave, but Namjoon grabs you back again.

“I’m not his friend.” He looks at you seriously.

“Then why is he here?”

“Because we realized the more of us compared to them the better-”

“Yeah, more of you that he can sacrifice for himself!”

Namjoon winces, pushing away memories he wishes he could forget. Memories of watching people he knew for years die in front of him. Colleagues go above and beyond their duty and sacrifice themselves for him.

You huff, quiet over his pained look. You turn around and take a seat on the bed. You feel the soft fabric against your fingertips, the softness of the mattress underneath you. It reminds you of your old bed. Not an airport cot, or three seats pushed together, the cold ground or hard floor. It reminds you of coming home after a long vacation and laying on your bed, that kind of experience. You want to cry. But you keep it in.

“Please, just stay here, please. We need you and you need us.”

“I don’t need you.” You try to blink away the tears in your eyes. You’re not used to speaking to people who actually speak back, and you’re definitely not used to arguing with international superstars, and even if titles mean nothing in this new world anymore, it’s hard not to feel small in Namjoon’s presence, you can’t even look at him when you say it.

“You don’t need us, you’re right. But we need you, I need you to stay.” He falls to his knees in front of you, and his head lands on your knees. All this time he has never let go of his role as leader. He has had to stay strong for everyone else. But you’re strong, stronger than him. He sees it, you still have fight inside you and a searing conviction, and he doesn’t want to let go of the fire that is you.

You roll your eyes and swallow down your sadness. “You know that’s not going to work every single time, right?” You pat his head, steal a chance to card your fingers through his greasy hair. “You need a haircut.”

---

You follow Namjoon back to the common room. Everyone’s conversations suddenly halt as you peek behind his tall frame and glare at Dev who has gone pale at your presence, worried about what you told Namjoon..

You sit in the empty space between Jungkook and Taehyung. The space probably was not meant for another person, but you didn’t care, you needed them to know you’re not going to be walking on eggshells around them.

“How-“ you silence Taehyung.

“Please tell me you have games here.” You rub your eyes and enjoy the fact that you are not talking to figments of your imagination.

“We usually play drinking games,” Jungkook confesses.

“I will play any game you want, anything, name it.” You punctuate each word by looking back and forth between the men.

“I have Uno.” Taehyung’s eyes fill with excitement.

“What are you waiting for?!”

---

“Uno!”

“You’re cheating!” you laugh.

“I’m not!”

You stand up and stretch your legs. You spent all day playing, something you never though would happen again in your lifetime.

You hated to admit it was fun being around them. Their presence made you feel like your old self, and you kept them on their toes, just being there you shifted something in the group dynamic already. Before the group had been slowly unraveling apart, and now you had them pulling themselves together again.

You watch the two oldest members cook outside. Jin fries up spam for the group while Yoongi works to remove instant rice packets into a pot of water.

“Is this what you normally eat?” You ask Jungkook and he nods his head.

You hum. You sit back down, and you tug your backpack off your shoulders and open the small compartment in the front. You’re going to regret this, you know it. You hand Jungkook a bag of carrots and a jar half full of Kimchi. That could have lasted you at least a week, but how many times had you wished desperately to have anyone to share your food with? Or how many times did you pretend to have someone to feed or be fed?

“They might not be fresh, but they are still good to eat.”

He holds the food in his hands like treasure.

“Is that...kimchi?” Taehyung looks over your shoulder, grabbing the jar to look at it’s precious contents.

“It’s not a lot, you probably will only get one bite each,” you laugh at the thought, “but-”

Jungkook pulls you into a crushing hug. You can feel him shake against you. When was the last time someone held you? When was the last time you had a warm body pressed up against you like this? You were used to cold bodies over yours as you fought for your life, you knew what to do when that happened, but someone holding you tenderly like this? Your mind goes blank. You wrap your arms around him and pull him closer. ‘Don’t let go, please not yet,’ you beg him in your mind.

---

Yoongi had used the leftover spam grease to make kimchi fried rice, using up all the kimchi in the glass container. Jin cooked the carrots just to make them tender, wanting to keep the taste and bite. It’s been so long since any of them had a vegetable that wasn’t canned.

Everyone sits in silence.

“You brought this, y/n?” Yoongi asks you.

“There was a lot of it in the kitchens at the airport...” you move the food around on your plate. “I took what was still good when I left.”

“I’m sor-” you don’t let him finish.

“Don’t say it,” waving his words away, “Anyways, I’ve figured out a way for you all to make it up to me!” For the first time since you’ve landed in Korea you’re not dreading the next day, the next hour, the next minute, and it’s about time you celebrate.

“You’re going to have to perform a song for me.”

Hoseok chokes on his food. “This is the only way I will ever forgive any of you,” you continue.

The boys look around at each other. “I’m not kidding.”

---

After the sunset, the group moves all the furniture along the walls of the room, candlelight fills the space.

You sit on the floor next to the older man whose name you learn is Kangho, choosing the spot farthest away from that blonde asshole, determined to ignore Dev’s existence. You learn this was his house with his wife and two daughters, and by the sad look in his eyes you don’t ask them where they are.

The guys stand in the middle of the room, staring at you, Kangho, Mr. Muscles, and Dev. This is all very awkward.

“What song did you want us to sing?” Jin asks you, clasping his hands together.

“Hmm, 21st Century Girl?”

Yoongi laughs, “So you really are an Army.”

“Or sing whatever you want, I don’t care” you murmur, looking away embarrassed.

“Well this is your apology,” Yoongi says, looking at Namjoon, who stands in the back awkwardly. You sit up a little straighter waiting for him to react.

The leader takes the center, while the others shuffle into position, trying to remember the choreography. He starts out not as confident as he wants to be, “You worth it, you perfect. Deserve it, just work it...”

“Yeah! Go Joo-RM!” your cheers fill the quiet room.

Their movements are stiff and reserved with no music to sing to, but the more you cheer the less they worry, having fun with the silly choreography.

“All my ladies put your hands up..” you throw your hands up at Yoongi’s words, and let out a soft yell when Taehyung sings, “Now scream!”

They all end to a soft round of applause from you and the three men.

“Encore! If you don’t sing ‘I Need U,’ I will never forgive you!” You cheer your thinly veiled threat. Filled with adrenaline and bodies warm and muscles loosened from performing, they automatically put themselves into position for another song to your happy surprise.

Singing a song they are much more familiar with brings back strong nostalgia. You watch as they get lost in the choreography, Even if it’s just their voices, and claps from you and the other men, their performance is still awe inspiring. The boys finish and the four of you clap, louder the second round.

They breathe heavily, not used to performing. And then Jimin starts crying. Hoseok turns around, chest heaving, and Jungkook starts crying at the sight of his brothers crying.

“Why are you crying?” you say as you wipe unshed tears away before they see.

“I...I just didn’t think we’d perform again for Army.” Jimin says between shaky breaths.

---

You walk quietly around the perimeter of the house with RM. “We take turns staying up in pairs and we switch half way during the night,” he says.

“Okay, I’ll take the first shift.”

“No, you can sleep, it’s okay. It’s me, Yoongi, Hoseok, and Jungkook assigned for the shift tonight anyways.”

“I stay up during the night anyways.”

“It’s okay...you gave us your food.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn’t do it to receive special treatment. It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you make sure to look anywhere but to the man next to you, “but I would feel more comfortable staying awake.”

Namjoon offers you a weak smile. “I get it. Well then you’re stuck with me.” You nod.

---

You wake up against something warm. Arms wrapped around you, holding you tightly. You go tense in Namjoon’s arms. He notices and his grip loosens.

“I-I didn’t mean to-” you scoot away quickly from the warmth you don’t actually want to leave. You did get less sleep today than you usually do, being woken up by the same man next to you now, but that doesn’t excuse letting your guard down like that. Usually, you’re tense, wound up and alert for any signs of movement. With Namjoon’s presence next to you, you had let yourself relax too much. Why the hell did you do that?

“It’s okay,” Namjoon holds his hands up, signaling there is no reason to worry. After a beat of silence he says, “Can I ask you a question?”

You nod, wrapping your arms around yourself, still shaken from falling asleep so easily.

“How did you survive?”

You laugh. “It’s easy to ‘survive.’” you look into his questioning eyes. “Surviving is simple. You just have to not die. I could climb up that tree right there, sit in it for days and not die. I survived by barely living.”

“You still made it for months all by yourself. I don’t think I could have survived by myself,” Namjoon mumbles.

“Well I didn’t want to...” You bite your tongue ready to yell at him again for leaving you at the airport. “It’s easier, to be honest. When you’re alone, you can be selfish.”

Namjoon nods knowingly.

“So what about you? What happened after the airport?”

Namjoon shrugs. “We tried to make it to Seoul but all the roads were blocked and they swarmed our car. At the time, the roads were filled with them, so we drove around trying to find shelter until our car ran out of gas. We kept getting attacked. People kept dying...” You scoot closer to him when he struggles to finish, encouraging him on. “We realized the more people there were the better chances we had when they attacked. That’s how we met Dev and Kangho, and there were others...but it was hard...I don’t know if you noticed, but now there’s a lot less of them around, before it was almost impossible to leave, we’d starve for days, and when we did go out someone would always die...”

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

He turns his body to face you, “I’m sorry...everyone regretted what happened with you,” Namjoon says, looking at you with pain in his eyes.

You sigh and look around. You sit on a makeshift post with Namjoon, looking out at the woods around the house. How many undead bodies were hidden amongst those trees?

“When you were out here, did you ever look at the moon?” you look at Namjoon. So much has changed in the last six months, you’ve changed so much, you can sit and talk to the former idol rapper like any other man you’ve met.

“Yes? Sometimes,” he says and you smile.

“Y/n?”

“Hmm?”

“Shift change!” Jungkook pokes his head up from the ladder connected to your vantage point.

---

You poke Taehyung’s side. “Psst, I’m taking Jungkook’s spot.” The singer grumbles in his sleep and you’re not sure he heard you, but the bed looks too inviting to resist.

The bed feels like heaven, it feels like a cloud, so why can’t you sleep, even in your exhaustion? It might have something to do with Taehyung latching onto you in his sleep, his leg over your body as he cuddles himself into your side. You can feel his warm breath against your shoulder, his prickly chin pressed against your back. Eventually when you allow yourself to close your eyes, and let your mind drift to a reality where you weren’t in a strange bed with a man you barely knew and think of your old home, your old room, the nights when your ex would stay over, only then you fell asleep.

You wake up and Taehyung is already gone. You stretch your limbs against the covers, and bump your hands into a body. In Taehyung's spot, sits Jungkook, reading a book.

His presence startles you enough to shake the morning’s haze away, and you sit up offering him a soft, “Good morning.”

“Y/n, you smell good.” Jungkook says the strange compliment out of nowhere.

“…thank…you?”

“I mean, you smell clean.”

You raise your eyebrows, yawning, “Yes, because I clean myself. I’m not a savage.”

“Yeah, but you smell like soap...when I hugged you...” he bites his lip in thought.

“Because I clean myself with soap.”

His eyes go wide with the information, “You have soap? Can I have some?”

You swallow hard. Why does he have to look at you with puppy dog eyes? “Why should I share with you? You basically left me for dead,” you glare at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“You said that. Do you even have a way to shower or bath?”

“We fill jugs from the lake, sometimes we heat the water up too, but it’s too dangerous to go there often.”

“Why?”

“Well, the, you know, zombies?”

“Oh.” That’s right. You’re supposed to be scared of them.

The idea of bathing in a lake sounds too intriguing, “Okay, well if you tell me how to get there on my own, then I will give you some soap. Deal?”

Jungkook plays with the worn and crinkled book pages, “What if something happens to you? It would be all my fault.”

You roll your eyes, “Nothing is going to happen to me.”

“No, I’ll come with you.”

“No! It’s too dangerous.”

“Exactly, I’m not telling you! We can wait until the next supply run.”

“But I want to swim in the lake now,” you whine. “You won’t tell me?” you say, “Not even for conditioner?”

Jungkook thinks about your offer briefly. “No. I don’t want anything to happen to you.” You wish you could be annoyed at him, you really want to go to the lake now, but his concern for you is endearing “Please, just soap. I’ll...sing you a song.”

You laugh. “That is very tempting...not a chance!”

---

You tap Yoongi on the back, he looks up from his notebook. “What are you doing?” you ask.

“Writing.”

“Lyrics?”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yes actually. Can you tell me how to get to the lake?”

“Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I’m supposed to go to the lake.”

Yoongi puts his notebook down and crosses his arms, you hadn’t counted on him to get so interested in your questioning. You hoped he would have just told you. “It’s at least another two weeks before we are supposed to the lake.”

“Yes, well, Namjoon changed the schedule. So I’m supposed to go to the lake.”

His eyes look you up and down, “No he didn’t, you’re lying.”

“How the hell do you know? I just talk to Nam-”

“Because I’m the one who decides when we leave. Why the hell are you lying?”

Dammit. “Ugh, can’t I just want to go to a fucking lake? I don’t want to be all gross and sweaty like you guys.”

“It’s dangerous...”

Since when did they all care about your safety? “I don’t care, oh my god. Min Yoongi, if you don’t tell me how to get to this damn lake, I will go look for it myself, if it takes me all day and night.”

“Fine...fine...I’m not going to stop you if you have a death wish.”

“Thank you!” you smile brightly. “And I promise I’ll be fine.” you nudge his shoulder, “Hey, if I die you have permission to kill me.”

“And if you tell anyone I told you, I’ll kill you before the zombies have an opportunity to.”

“Ha! You were always my favorite member.”

Yoongi opens his notebook again, unable to meet your eyes anymore. “Just listen before I change my mind.”

---

“Have you seen y/n? Hey! Have you seen y/n?” Jungkook asks Hoseok and Jimin, he has visited every single room in the house twice and walked the perimeter a dozen times.

“She’s not inside?” Hoseok asks.

“No! I’m scared-I’m scared she went to the lake.”

“Why would she do that?” Jimin asks.

“I think she wanted to take a bath? I don't know!”

“Well, did you tell her there’s a field of zombies in the way before you get to the lake?” Jin says, walking up to the group with Namjoon, Taehyung, and that asshole Dev.

“No, I didn’t tell her how to get there.”

Yoongi listens to his bandmates talk about you and takes a deep breath trying to calm his nerves. The sun is setting in the distance.

“I told her.”

“What?!”

“We have to go find her!”

“We have to get inside, it’s getting dark.” Dev says.

“I’ll go search for her-” Jin moves to leave.

“No, it’s too dangerous, you’ll get yourself killed-”

“Who’s getting themselves killed?” You stop your bike in front of the group of men. Your hair is still damp, a towel hangs over your shoulders and you are wearing a newly washed pair of joggers and a hoodie, almost dry after your trek. Two bags hang from your handle bars, and you pull them off and hand one bag to Yoongi. “Your clothes, I washed them...because you told me where the lake was.” You walk inside, but not before glaring at a shocked Jungkook.

---

“I didn’t ask you to worry for me. I don’t want you to,” you defend yourself from the three men currently yelling at you.

Namjoon, Jin, and Jungkook look at you like three upset dads, and you are ready to play the part of rebellious teenage daughter.

“Okay, we need to set some rules-” Namjoon starts.

“Why?”

“So you don’t get yourself killed!” Jungkook yells.

“I’m not-”

“What about us, what if some of them followed you back and then they attack us here?” Jin asks you, a serious look in his eyes that makes you feel guilty even though you know you have nothing to feel guilty about. You don’t want to tell them you killed all the zombies you came across, so many you lost count.

“I was careful.”

“Okay, but we have rules to keep everyone safe. You have to follow them too y/n.”

“So you want me to just follow a bunch of rules that you men came up with? Great, the one thing that hasn’t been destroyed in the apocalypse has to be The Patriarchy.” You cross your arms and they look at each other at a loss for words.

“Fine, I won’t go back to the lake, alright? Unless I get permission, okay? And I’ll stand guard tonight, if any zombies come I’ll make sure they won’t get anywhere near you guys.”

“You don’t have to-” but you’re already making your way to the post before they can argue.

---

“Oh you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Looks like your post partner tonight is that asshole Dev. He makes his way beside you. “Can we talk?”

“Do I have much of a choice now that I’m a captive audience?”

“I know you hate me, but you would have done the same thing in my situation!” His shitty apology doesn’t surprise you, it annoys you more than anything.

“I would not have done that, because I’m not a psychopath.”

“I was just trying to survive. I think we’ve all done things we’ve regretted trying to survive, you’re telling me you haven’t?”

You roll your eyes, but you can’t help but remember the family overrun by zombies you didn’t help, the countless screams of victims you walked away from. It hurts your heart, but these circumstances were something you came across, not something you actively created, there is no justification for what he did in your mind.

After a minute of silence Dev’s annoying voice starts up again, “You look good, you look better than I remember.”

You scoff, “Please just give me a reason to castrate you.” And he stops talking until Taehyung and Jimin come to relieve you.

---

The days go by and you start to get along with everyone, except for Dev, Dev is an asshole.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Put lipstick on?”

“Because I like this shade.” You are being obtuse on purpose. You don’t want to tell Hoseok you still put makeup on because it makes you feel human, it’s one of the only creature comforts you can still participate in, and wearing lipstick and a bit of eyeliner makes living this dystopian nightmare a bit more bearable, you want to at least die looking good.

“Hey, does Kangho have any scissors, I could give you a haircut?”

You end up giving all the men haircuts, even that asshole Dev because you didn’t want to ruin the mood. You cut off the last bits of dye on their ends, trimming their hair to the best of your ability. You kept Jungkook’s hair long, giving him an undercut instead, and pulled his hair into a bun with one of your priceless hair ties.

Everything was going good, until one day the person you least expected to ruin your cohabitation caused a rift that couldn’t be fixed.

-

The security guard, Minho, seems sweet, and you’ve accepted was only doing his job when he left you for dead, starts talking more and more to you. He’s easy to talk to, he feels like someone you might have had a chance with in your pre-apocalyptic life.

Being around a ton of testosterone wasn’t bad, but it was isolating. Sometimes you think they forgot you were a woman. Going around the place half naked, always flexing their muscles cutting wood or practice fighting, cuddling you at night, like you were expected to not feel things from the way they grabbed your hands and pulled you close on supply runs, or sat so close to you you were practically in the laps.

The former boyband treated you like another one of the guys, but their body guard was a different story, he was definitely flirty with you. And you were longing for a different kind of human contact. So the next time you’re alone together on night watch you give him a kiss on the cheek.

You weren’t expecting his swift change in personality. Being around the polite singers made you forget that not all men were so well mannered.

He had grabbed the opportunity and kissed you, on the lips instead. It was nice, until he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer, hands on your chest before you could even properly kiss him back.

“Can we just slow down a second?” You try to push him away when Minho snakes his hand under your shirt. His lips attach themselves to your neck and you squirm away from his grasp.

“No, I said no!” You glare at him when he pulls away and looks at you annoyed, and you decide to leave him to look out by his damn self, jumping down to the ground and stomping away.

Minho looks over the ledge, face scrunched up in frustration, “You could at least make yourself useful.”

You laugh at that. A loud mocking laugh that you knew would get you in even more trouble, but you don’t care.

“What the fuck is so funny?”

“How pathetic you are.”

And then he climbs down and you brace yourself for the worst. He hits you and you fall back with his crushing weight on top of you.

Monster is all you can think, when he yanks your shirt up, revealing your bra.

He pauses, looking at your exposed skin, jaw slack as his eyes refocus to roam over your body in the darkness more carefully.

You take that moment to kick him straight in the groin, in the most satisfying of hits that knocks the wind completely out of him, and you let out a piercing scream that will probably alert every undead person in the area.

The men inside run out carrying weapons, and see you on the ground, covering yourself quickly with a swollen lip and it doesn’t take an 148 IQ to tell them what’s going on.

Jin pulls you to your feet. Your body shakes with adrenaline while you clutch onto his arm for support.

The singers move in front of you to guard you from their bodyguard.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You’ve never seen the leader so angry before.

“Kim, she came onto me, she kissed me first.”

You scoff, “That doesn’t give you permission to take advantage of me, idiot.”

“Shut the hell up, I’m not talking to you. You’re just a dumb fangirl who got lucky-”

“I’m actually very smart, you dumbass muscle head bastard. Don’t take your shit out on me just because you peaked in high school!”

The men keep you and him apart as he jumps to grab you.

Minho stops fighting and moves away, winded from being held back by everyone. “Stop this.” His hands on his hips as he steadies his breathing, “Just let me have her.” He waves his hand for them to hurry up, acting like he somehow suddenly had the authority to start making demands.

Namjoon feels disgusted by his long time friend. Everyone is looking to him to solve the situation, but he can barely contain his anger.

“Leave.”

“Namjoon, how long have we known each other, how long have I protected you, huh?”

“You need to go-”

“It’s night time, how am I supposed to-”

“Leave! Before I make you,” Namjoon’s growls.

Minho stands his ground, “I would like to see you try, you think you can beat me in a fight?”

“Against all nine of us, you’ll lose.” Jimin stands next to his leader.

“Ugh, I’ll go,” you swallow, this is not what you wanted, someone getting themselves hurt over you.

“Stop, no.” Jin is already pulling you into a protective embrace, hushing you. “Come on, let’s go inside-”

"You're really going to choose her over me?!"

The argument is halted when a low gurgling noise in the distance is heard. It was a wonder the monsters hadn’t shown up sooner the way everyone was yelling at each other.

Everyone runs inside, barricading the doors. The house is quiet now, no one dares to speak as grunts and growls are heard in every direction.

Everyone stays up until the sun rises. The singers are in a group whispering to each other, while you sit next to the old man, who has an axe in his lap, ready to protect you. Dev sits by the door, looking through the cracks for any sign of the undead. The body guard stands alone, and you wonder what he’s planning next.

Namjoon calls for you to join them and the bodyguard starts walking over as well, and the argument starts all over again.

“He didn’t say ‘come here, rapist asshole,”

“You kissed me first-”

“We’re leaving for Seoul.” The leader proclaims.

Dev decides to finally insert himself into the conversation, “What?! We have a good thing going here, it’s too dangerous to leave!”

“We’ve stayed here too long. The plan was always to go to Seoul.” Yoongi says.

“Our families could still be in Seoul,” Taehyung says, "The embassy is in Seoul too, for you and y/n.”

“You’re not coming with us,” Namjoon says to the bodyguard.

“Why would I want to?” Minho grits out.

“What do you think, y/n?” Jimin asks.

Suddenly all eyes are on you. “Yeah,” you nod. “That’s a good idea.”

“WHAT?!” Dev’s annoying voice is back.

“Well, actually, in my opinion it’s a horrible idea. But, I mean, it’s good to have a goal right? If there is even the slightest possibility you could find your families, I say you should take it...I would.” You look around at the men with hopeful eyes. “Who knows, maybe every single zombie movie in existence had it wrong.” Yoongi laughs, proving to be your favorite again. “If you guys are headed to Seoul, then I’ll go too.”

---

Let me know who you want to spare, you may only choose one member :D.

[littlefreya]

Velvet Chains

Summary: For a generous fee, August Walker is yours. A man devout to pleasure, who will worship you for an entire night and make sure your first time is more than memorable. 

Promot:  

 A thought - August as a gigolo who specializes in deflowering. 👌

Pairing: Soft! August Walker x Virgin Reader.  

Word count: 1.6K

Warnings: 18+. August Walker as a sex-worker, sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, loss of virginity, a depiction of bodily fluids, soft!August themes, a tinge of angst and August’s monster c... 

A/N: When I received this prompt, I didn’t think I can actually do it justice, but it was 3am and I started dabbling around. Then in the morning, I took another look at it, and this little drabble turned into a one-shot. I hope you’ll like it, I hope I did well. Many thanks to @agniavateira​ my muse who beta’d my story. 

Please give feedback and reblog if you enjoyed reading. 🖤 DM if you want to be added to my tag squad. 

Title: Velvet Chains

They were all little flowers to him, fresh peonies and flushed roses. Young or mature, it never mattered as long as they were still oh so pure. Undefiled, succulent flesh. Kissed by dew and wrapped by the last remaining petals of their innocence.

All for him to willfully pluck.

Sprayed with notes of tobacco, and boozy fragrance of rum - August Walker was the top-tier kind of service, a man to die for with his three-piece suits and shiny leather shoes. At one point he didn’t even need to self-promote; they came to him, all doe-eyed and coy, willing to pay as much as it takes to have him breach through the sealed gates of their garden.   

The rules were quite simple: Cash in advance and always wear protection; other than that anything goes. August liked to see himself as a procurer of fantasies rather than a male prostitute. For a generous fee of $1500, his girls earned themselves a night they never forgot. Whether it began with a dinner at the most outrageous restaurant, a masked ball at a billionaire’s mansion, or an intimate evening with his homemade cooking at a cosy sublet. 

It was up to him to choose the experience for the ladies after thoroughly assessing and profiling each client. He was never wrong; after all, it was his job to study women, both mentally and physically. 

“I know what you need,” he would murmur as he kissed down their navel and swept between their shaky thighs. And in his grip they indeed laughed, cried, and came undone so many times over, reaching out to grasp heaven around his unapologetically huge cock.  

Until you changed everything. 

August couldn’t quite crack you; while he enjoyed, savoured, and conquered every woman he had, it was you who seemed to have more power over him than he did over you. The quiet abyss in your eyes reeled him in like an unfortunate, foolish fish teetering on a hook. Whatever mysteries that mind of yours held, he wanted to pry it open with his fingers and brush them through the parchments of your soul. 

He desired you more than just the flesh; he wanted to be deeper in you than he ever was in any other woman. 

‘Who are you?’

Shivering in his presence, it was crystal clear that you weren’t immune to his spells; yet you didn’t seem impressed by the theatrics or his suave appearance. As if you saw right through him, and knew it was all but a spectacle.  

Wanting everyone to witness your ‘claiming’, he took you to the dimly-lit roof of his private apartment and laid you on a blanket beneath the beaming stars. When his lips touched yours while slowly ridding himself of his clothes, August felt like he could tell you his most kept secrets though he didn’t want to. 

This is not how it worked. Not for him. 

Sorrounded by the fairy tea-lights that adorned the intimate rooftope, you flinched as he began undressing you, and trembled so vehemently once completely bare that all he wanted was to embrace you in his big arms. And he did so, collecting you against the dark fur of his chest, the heat of his body provided shelter from the cold October breeze.

“Beautiful,” he whispered sincerely and allowed his hands to roam the tender map of your body. Likely, he would never see you again, so he wanted to remember every curve, dimple, and scar; he needed your moans imprinted in the museum of his mind. 

The same desperate, breathless pleas only a virgin would make, purer than pure.

Breathing in shudders, you laid down beneath him with your legs spread out. Your little untouched slit displayed to his hungering gaze, asking to be reshaped by his intrustment. August was never one to lose control, but your entire existence has made him question every decision and in a moment of frivolousity, he lost himself completely and broke the most forbidden rule: 

He entered you bare. 

Painfully large and hot as flaming iron, his rigid cock tore through your maidenhood and delved into your velvety pit, desperately searching for the engulfing shelter that was your womb. Weeps of pain rained down your lips; he was too big, and he didn’t slow down. He unwrapped you, tearing your rose petals one by one, sinking in until you could have sworn he was infused between your lungs. 

Overwhelmed by the raw sensation of your wet flesh engulfing him, August raked his arm around the small of your back and held your body against his, forcing you to spread wider, to grant him the infinite access he demanded.

“Look at me kitten,” he murmured in a half-breathless, half-soothing voice and showered hasty butterfly kisses across your forehead, “I’m inside you. It’s done, now let me please you.”

He seared your body, your sensitive entrance pulsating with a twinge of grieving anger around his veiny cock, your walls squeezing, fighting off his lewd intrusion. While you anticipated the pain, the initial shock was too much to bear. 

“I don’t think I can take you,” you retorted and swallowed hard, trying not to cry as he swelled and flinched inside you further more.

August reached a hand to your jaw and caged it between his strong fingers. Not saying a word, he stared intensely into your eyes. Smoke and broken mirrors shadowed his glare. In your daze, you swore you could see his reveries and hear him whisper without moving his lips. 

The barriers of your guarded castle were in ruins, and so was your self-preservation. Fully submitting, you allowed him to take you beneath the shimmering, black silks of midnight. 

August was both gentle and rough as he rode between your thighs, his heavy body surrounding you completely. His entity seeped through your lungs and pores, his bewhiskered mouth left sloppy, ticklish kisses and chanted a hymn of pleasure against your neck. 

For a slight moment, you wondered if he was this passionate with all of his customers. But all thoughts died at the moment his crown slammed into the wall of your womb, and the entirety of your existence was flooded with both the tremors of sudden pleasure and satisfying pain. 

You wanted more, you wanted to be complete. To be completely his.

“Oh god, yes!” You cried for him, clawing your nails at the taut muscles of his back.

Grunting, he plunged into you, harder with every pull and deeper with every thrust. He sought for heaven between your legs and as inexperienced and naive as you were, you followed your instincts and complied to his arousal. Bucking your hips, you yielded to meet the jerk of his hips - your rhythm a savage mess, your demeanour that of a virgin-whore. 

“Good girl, my good girl,” August praised, thrilled of the shift in you, and by the helpless, glossy gaze and gaping mouth as you moaned and begged. Your freshly open cunt clung to his invasion with its growing tightness. Holding onto him the way the moon is bound to earth.

Control was gradually lost over your own bodies, enslaved to something stronger than your wills and wits. It was as if you became vessels to haunting spirits that made you slam into one another, lost in a sweaty, carnal trance until a flush of sudden rapture broke between your legs the way raging waves break upon a ship lost at sea, consuming it completely.

Like a dauntless sailor, August followed you into the depths of euphoria. Jumping to his knees, he hauled you by the waist and slammed you against him, needing to be balls-deep within you. With a loud shout, he came undone, astonished by the raw, unbridled sensation of releasing himself inside another person.

You both shuddered in shock as his thick cum bathed your womb in three, warm gushes. 

‘Oh, August, what have you done?’

Spent, he nearly collapsed on top of you, holding his hands flat to the side of your head. He took a deep breath before pulling out from your hurting hole and moving to lie by your side. The pink mixture of your essence trickled between your simmering lips just the way it coated his still-swollen cock. Glancing down upon it he felt an odd notion of triumph, more than the usual complacent feeling usually evoked with his clientele. 

“Don’t worry, I am clean.” He promised. 

In a way, you were his first as well.

Pulling you against him, he nuzzled your neck and hummed lowly, “I don’t imagine you could give me anything.”

Still trying to land back on solid ground, you said nothing. Words didn’t make it, not through your chest nor your head. You basked within the moment, trying to memorise every vibration that flowed through your veins as the glow became dimmer with every passing minute.

Limbs entangled, he decorated your shoulder-blade with honey-sweet kisses while your spine attached to his hairy chest. He watched you quietly, admiring you completely until the two of you fell into a dreamless sleep under the guarding sky. 

Come morning, August was awakened by the sounds of the raging street below. The scent of toxic vapours hung heavy in the air and his face curled at the sounds of the beeping horns. For a moment, he forgot where he was but then you were the first thing on his mind. Even though he knew the deal was for one night only, something in him itched for a generous ‘on-the-house’ lazy morning sex.

As he rolled to lie on top of you, his chest felt abruptly empty. He was met with nothing but the defiled blanket.

You were gone.   

Though the scent of your body, your sweat, and viscous fluids were still stuck to his skin, your memory a sheer piece of silk carried away by the cruel wind. The weight of a thousand stones dropped in August’s gut and he flipped onto his back once more and stared at the cloudy sky. 

It resonated in him that this was all that it was, and he would never find a girl like you again.     

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