#i partied too hard last night and i woke up sick so now i’m listening to TAD and eating ice cream

[zigzagtherelentless]

my current mood is joey batey singing the lyrics, “because you make me weep when i’m just tryna watch the office…”

“…with my yogurt.”

[onsunnyside]

ʚ♰ɞ 𝟐. 𝐎𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | friends-with-benefits!Ransom Drysdale x camgirl!reader, dad's best friend!Chris Evans x camgirl!reader, camgirl!Natasha Romanoff x camgirl!reader (mentioned, just for shows and not romantically)

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, AGE GAP, SMUT - minors DNI, best friend!Natasha, dilf!Chris Evans (he's also very wealthy), sexting, FaceTime sex (starts, then is implied), dirty talk, daddy kink, fingering, grinding, camming: mentioned, sub!reader, masturbation.

𝗪/𝗖 | 6K

𝗔/𝗡 | oh my goodness, I took a nap and just woke up, so here's the next chapter of holy grail and thank you for your patience while I slept the evening away. also i needed a blond mcu character to be reader’s dad’s fiancee, it’s Carol. this chapter has been split into two parts because I use a lot of page breaks !! next part comes tmrw at 6pm EST. No gifs/photos belong to me, found bottom ones on Pinterest [1 | 2 | 3] all credits go to the original creators.

˗ˏˋ𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐲 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐥 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Have you seen my black bikini? I can’t find it.”

“Didn’t you wear it to that yacht party Ransom dragged you to?”

Of fucking course.

You groan and nearly stomp your feet in frustration. As if on cue, your phone starts ringing and that devil’s name flashes on the screen. Ignoring the call, you collapse onto Wanda’s bed with your arms over your eyes.

“I’m going to lie in the middle of a bike lane and wait to get run over by a cyclist.”

Wanda laughs, almost ruining her lipstick as she applies it in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing for your trip?”

You scoff loudly. It wasn’t a trip, more like a forceful gathering to meet your father’s new fiancée. You’ve lost count on how many women you’ve seen hanging off his arm, wearing a shiny diamond ring on their left hand. 

The last one was ten years younger than him and invited you to get lunch with her and her other friends. Against your will, you went because your father played the “You’ll be calling her mom soon” card. You almost laughed in his face right then, as if he forgot about his past stream of ex-fiancée's who came and left faster than a bolt of lightning. 

It was pitiful. Your father has been desperate since your mother left him for another man long ago, but you can’t blame him. You haven’t spoken to her in years, not since you graduated high school. You’ve never forgiven her for cheating with her co-worker—even though now they’re both happily married, living with his children from a previous relationship. 

While you took your heartbreak and pushed yourself into school and work, your dad set off on serial dating but, thankfully, did not have any more kids.

“I’m so glad Nat’s coming along—I would’ve faked being sick if she wasn’t.” You’ve always had a hard time telling your father no, but the relationship between the two of you was far stronger than the one you had with your mother. After the divorce, you chose to live with your father instead of your mother and her new husband. “I swear, when I finally find the guts, I’ll say no.”

“But not any time soon.” Wanda fills in, looking over her shoulder at you. Her eyes are lined with silver glitter, matching the simple jewelry around her neck and wrists. “Do you know why?”

“I love him too much?”

Your roommate shrugs, “Well, yeah but you also love to ogle at his friend.”

Your jaw drops and you grab a piece of clothing lying on her bed to throw at her, missing by a few feet.

Wanda flips her hair smugly, “I don’t blame you, if I wasn’t with Vis, I’d drag you by your ear to your dad's trip. I still remember when he had that layover and stayed in a hotel, and came by when we were having a girl's night. Men who aren’t afraid of face masks, self-care, and pedicures are my kind of men—ugh, some guys our age avoid soap like the plague.” She goes on a rant about her past failed relationships, all of which you were a witness to the garbage fire, until Vis, an older philosophy major came along.

You try to listen to her, but your mind is filled with memories from your last trip home. As Wanda loudly shuffles through her makeup, rambling about another jerk, “He left his pubic hair all over the bathroom as if he hadn’t ever cleaned—I still have flashbacks.”

Humming absentmindedly, you fall deeper into your head.

Lately, you have been far too busy to do an actual stream. Only posting photos and short videos for your fans—so thinking about that man wasn’t the best idea. Especially since you just showered.

But, how could you stop thinking about him?

He was older than you, almost double your age and he was best friends with your father.

Chris was wealthy—with a family name that will be old money rich down the line. He spent his life getting everything he wanted, but he never lost touch with his humanity. Always a humble man, he’s helped friends and family whenever they needed it and even funded one of your high school trips to Europe. And he definitely wasn’t terrible looking—hell, he wasn’t even average, he was beyond it.

Naturally gifted with looks that could melt anyone. Brown hair that was always flawless, either styled, in a fluffy mess or covered by a baseball cap. Perfect facial hair over his chiselled cheekbones and strong jaw. A prominent nose and freckles. Dark eyebrows, thick eyelashes and most notably, his clear blue eyes that sucked you in with a single glance.

And his body, you remember when you excused yourself and to change your panties. Watching him strut around, shirtless with all his tattoos exposed and drinking a beer, had affected you so deeply, you had soaked straight through the cotton.

You also ended up taking the opportunity to film a little video of yourself in your bedroom. Then, you posted it along with a promise of doing more that night and warning your fans that you’d have to be quiet. A lot of them liked when you had to silence yourself and so did you. Just the possibility of getting caught if you were too loud.

For the rest of that trip, Chris was very friendly with you. More than usual. You’ve caught him staring at you plenty of times, just the weight of his gaze sent goosebumps all over your body.

It picked up from there. The stares turned into winks and sly smiles, he’d raise his beer to his mouth and take a hearty gulp, drops slipping from the corners of his lips before he’d lick them away. Sometimes he’d make a show of it and collect the droplets with his finger before suckling them clean.

At first, it was hard to consider that Chris was attracted to you in the way you were to him.

Then, it all solidified on the last day of your trip.

You grew comfortable with his light touches on your hips—those could easily be written off as merely platonic affection. Then, you hit a stump.

When no one else is around, he comes up behind you and his big hands massage your shoulders, working out the knots in your neck and back until you are swaying on your feet. Your core feels warm as you can’t help but think about what other things his hands were skilled in.

You let out a soft moan as he presses himself against you. His heavy breath ghosting your skin, touch wandering to your waist and down your hips, the tips of his fingers dipping into the band of your shorts.

Your legs tremble as he coos softly, moving your ass over his thickening length—he definitely wasn’t small. His guttural groans harmonize with your quiet whimpers, and you shut your eyes, leaning against him and letting him manhandle your body how he wants.

It feels like a dream come true, because it was.

You grab one of his hands and push it inside your shorts, under your bikini bottoms. “Please.”

Chris’ groans grow in volume as he presses harder, his big cock sliding against your ass. Long fingers gently explore your wet folds, dipping down to your entrance before rubbing your throbbing clit.

“Are you always this wet for me, baby?”

Blissed out, you nod silently.

The distant sound of a door opening and your name being called yanks back to reality. The rush topples over you. But you don’t want it to end, you don’t want him to stop.

But Chris makes the decision himself and pulls away. You whine in protest and he only shushes you.

“Next time.” He kisses the side of your neck then leaves.

After that, you were so worked up. You had to put out the fire he started then abandoned. You ended up in the guest bathroom with your hand stuffed in your shorts, pressed against the wall as you desperately brought yourself to a finish. You didn’t even have time to film it—only posting a picture of yourself and your wetness afterward with a caption:

AngelEyes: I’m sorry I forgot to take a video, daddy! I couldn’t stop after I started, please forgive me :(

When you retrieved your bags from your room, there was a neatly wrapped box on your bed. You didn’t have time to open it and hurriedly stuffed it into your luggage before dashing out the door. Quickly bidding your father and his fiancée goodbye, and kissing Chris on the cheek, as you always have.

Although, this time, you might have kissed a little closer to his lips. From the way his hand drifted to your ass, it was safe to say he had no objections.

The present was unwrapped the moment you stepped foot into your apartment.

It was a skimpy black bikini with more straps than actual coverage, sparkly rhinestones dangling from some hems like water droplets. There wasn’t a note, not even a little hint as to who it was from, but you didn’t need one. You knew exactly who gifted it to you.

Hence, why you’ve been tearing your apartment apart searching for the immodest pieces of fabric.

The same bikini Ransom refuses to give back because “I fucked you while you wore it, that basically makes it my property now.”

“My dad said that Chris offered to host the trip at his new house.”

“Oh, a new one?” Wanda quizzes, “How is that man still single? He’s loaded, funny, intelligent, and clearly isn’t ugly! It doesn’t add up.”

That question has popped into your mind too. Ever since you’ve known Chris, there have been only a few times he’s mentioned seeing someone, but you’ve never met them.

“Maybe he wants to be single.”

“Or, he secretly has an awful attitude, he could be annoyingly jealous, or have deadly morning breath—or, he’s actually an asshole that no one can stand.”

You pout, “Hey, don’t say that.”

Wanda snickers, “Right, I forgot you’re in love with him.”

In love was a stretch, it was more like deep infatuation, making you insanely attracted to him. You still daydream about the time you walked in on him shirtless and playing the piano.

Standing from Wanda’s bed, there are a couple of texts from Ransom, the first one is needy, I miss your body, baby, then they get progressively more Ransom-esque, I know you miss me too, answer your phone before I drive down there.

The very last one has a photo of his crotch, his cock hard under his pants bulging against the zipper.

You text him back:

I just posted on my OF. Use that, idiot.

Ransom: Oh, I did. Then, I scrolled and saw that picture of you in the shower.

A video pops up, the cover is just a black screen, and you click on it without a second thought. A deep groan bursts from your phone along with a low mumble of your name. Wanda yelps, slamming her brush on her dresser and covering her ears. “Don’t watch porn in my presence!”

“I’m sorry!” You rush to the hallway, already answering Ransom’s FaceTime call. You quickly shut your bedroom door, pressing your back against it. Admittedly, you’re a little embarrassed even though Wanda has heard and witnessed worse.

“You’re an asshole, you know that?”

Ransom smirks, face flushed pink. “Yeah, yeah. Now take off your shirt, baby.”

You glance at your bed still scattered with clothes and your luggage lying half-empty on the floor. You have to leave by tonight to make it to Chris’ house in the morning. You and Natasha already booked separate private cabins with beds since the ride would take at least seven hours. You were also planning on sleeping the entire time.

“I still have to pack.”

On your screen, Ransom’s head is thrown back, the veins in his neck prominent as he moans. Only now do you notice he’s shirtless and just out of frame, his arm moves slowly. You know exactly what he’s doing, and it’s starting to affect you too.

His blue eyes are drawn back to you, “Why are you going anyway?” His breath shudders, “You always talk about how you’re fed up with your dad’s dating record. Plus, three days without dick? Baby, you’ll go crazy. That is unless you invite me.”

“I already invited Nat.” You huff.

“Of fucking course.” Ransom growls, “Are you sharing a cabin?”

“No.”

He raises a dark eyebrow, “Then, I can still come.”

“No, you can’t.” You despise how his arm speeds up, the camera pans down to his heaving chest. The muscles contract with every breath. “My dad doesn’t like you.”

“Is this about that daddy thing? I told you to change his contact name.”

That daddy thing was when Ransom tried to send himself a photo from your phone. It was a sneaky picture of you suckling a popsicle, watching television in nothing but his shirt. Thankfully, your legs were shut and you couldn’t see anything except the marks littering your body, ranging from hickeys to bruises from Ransom. He took the photo from the other side of the couch and used your phone since he couldn’t find his. In contrast to the other ones he’s taken of you, it was completely innocent—only if you ignored his text about adding it to the ‘post-sex album’ he has on his cellphone.

When you told your dad it was Ransom, it just hammered the last nail in the coffin for any potential friendship between your father and him.

“I’m not changing my dad’s contact name so you can keep yours.”

Ransom spits in his hand and brings it back down, the camera angled so you get a glimpse of his red shiny tip. He groans, “Why are we both daddy anyway?”

“Because he’s my dad! And you’re you!”

That smug smirk appears once more, “Yeah, baby? I’m your daddy?” He flips the camera to show his fully hard cock, cum leaking down the thick girth that he uses to make the glide smoother. “Are you going to show daddy that pretty cunt? Let me watch you ride your fingers, pretending it’s my cock?”

Seeing his big hand grip his dick and squeezing the base combined with his deep voice—Ransom could get you wet in a matter of moments. It truly wasn’t fair. So, you give in. “Fine, but make it quick.”

His long fingers tighten, “Oh, sweetie, you doubt my abilities. I’ve made you squirt over text, imagine what I could do like this.”

“And here we are, cabin thirteen and fourteen.” You struggle to read your tickets, hands full of your bags. Opening the door to the first room, you sigh in relief and set down your luggage.

“No one told you to overpack.” Your best friend mutters, also carrying one of your bags. She drops it by the door before standing upright, clad in a pair of black jeans and a ripped t-shirt. “Uh… it’s cute, cozy.”

The cabin is quite small and compact. The walls are painted white, the floor is a dark blue carpet. There’s a tiny foldable table in the middle, across from a red futon, currently set up as a couch. You sit down, testing the cushion. It wasn’t soft but it also wasn’t uncomfortable, it would suffice for the seven hours.

Natasha fixes her hair in the mirror on the back of the door, her green eyes meeting your gaze, “We should’ve got the one with bunk beds, those have bathrooms. We’re going to room together over the trip anyway.”

“And because of that, I’d like to rest while I can. If we were sharing, I’d have to watch you perform.” You raise an eyebrow as she sits beside you, her single duffle bag landing on her lap. “I can’t believe you’re doing all that on the train.”

“Oh, like you’re a saint.” She shoves you playfully, the dark sky looms outside the wide window, “As if you didn’t let Ransom finger you in that movie theatre—”

You slap a hand over her mouth as other passengers walk by your opened door, mortified if they heard your loud-mouth friend. “Shut up,” you hiss as she laughs, “remember when you and Banner fooled around in the parking lot of that diner? And Ransom and I didn’t film that. It just—happened.”

“A lot of things tend to just happen when the playboy is around.” She cocks her head, “Did you know he tried to bribe me to cancel on you? He thought you’d beg him to come instead.”

A little stream of glee rushes through you, an easy smile crawling into your face. If you asked him about that, he’d either downright deny and play clueless, or he’d list the reasons why his company would have been better than Natasha’s, continuing to prove his point when the matter is over with. He’s always been like that, shameless and self-assured, with confidence radiating from him like heat from the sun. Ransom was insistent when he wanted something—at least he didn’t show up at the train station.

You subconsciously glance through the window, craning your neck to see the platform and thankfully, it’s empty. “Well, my dad hates him, so I’d end up going alone anyway.” You say just as the announcement sounds for the last passengers to board, signalling everyone else to get settled.

Natasha stands up, “you’re really just sleeping? I’m sure my fans wouldn’t mind the return of the sweet AngelEyes.” She sings songs.

Rolling your eyes, you shake your head. Natasha was a camgirl too, the two of you started around the same time when rent was going up and college was getting rough. After making accounts on Twitter where you posted short clips, risque pictures and truly let your deepest fantasies free, you both took that next step to OnlyFans. From then on, fame has grown exponentially, now being quite popular individually, it felt only right to test a few collaborations.

You’ve done a few shows together, nothing too scandalous or wild, but also nothing you would classify as Safe For Work. Being semi-opposites and best friends, you and Natasha fit seamlessly. You were submissive, soft, and maybe a brat sometimes. Natasha was gifted in a way, she could adjust to whatever people desired, and still have fun. Truly without the roleplay, she was polar of you, the dominatrix of people’s dreams, cunning and tantalizing, mostly clad in dark leather or lace, the BlackWidow with red cherry lips.

“You’re missing out,” She trails off, digging through her bag before whipping out a vibrator. She waves it before your face like a treat to a dog, “When was the last time you got off?”

“Home.” You answer shortly as your phone chimes. It was as if anytime you thought of Ransom, he’d appear like magic.

Natasha’s green eyes narrow slightly, she can always read you easily, “Playboy came over?”

You know that look, you also know you can’t lie to your friend, “no, but we FaceTimed.”

The redhead smirks, “of course, I’m assuming it was farewell, send-off. You know, it seems a little sentimental… Is there anything you’re hiding from me?”

That would be a way out—if you were actually keeping anything from her, but you weren’t. Or at least you desperately hoped. “No. I’ve told you before, there’s nothing.”

She whistles lowly, “An arrangement going on for this long—I’m surprised neither of you has fallen in love yet.” Her gaze locks on you, searing straight through your eyes and into your brain as if she’s trying to read your thoughts. You cower away, actually considering if you’re keeping any secrets you don’t even know about. The final warning for passengers to be settled sounds, and Natasha slinks out to the hall. “I’m just saying—he’s a little obsessed with you.”

You ignore the faint curiosity that blooms in your chest, scoffing loudly instead, “everyone should be anyway.”

Amused, Natasha raises her hands, still holding the sex toy, “I won’t argue with you, babe.” Then, she’s walking away with her bags, her vibrant hair brushing her shoulders.

“Break a leg.” You call, leaning on the frame.

“Oh, we know I like it rough, but not that rough, miss.” She tsks, waving her fingers over her shoulder. “Knock on the wall if someone is coming.” Then, you hear the door slide shut and lock.

You shut your door too, closing the blinds for privacy. You set up the futon to a bed and grab the small pillow and blanket you packed, lying across the cushion on your belly. The train starts moving, slow and steady vibrations rocking you to sleep, your phone dings as you slip away.

Ransom: Have a safe trip, baby. Call me if you need me.

Ransom: Especially if you’re doing a show, I’ll help you prep because daddy always takes care of his girl ;)

The house is in a secluded neighbourhood, halfway up a hill and at the end of a tall winding road. Hints of autumn paint the trees in yellow and red, some specks of orange amongst the branches that loom over the thin street. A light breeze flows through the air as the car pulls up to the black fence, you can’t help but gape at the size of the home.

White with black framed windows, at least two storeys from what you can see, since thick trees sprout from most of the property, offering some privacy for the wide windows. A redstone walkway leads to the large front doors, potted plants scattered on the porch as ivy grows over the side.

After punching in the code, you and Natasha walk through the automatic metal gates. Your luggage rolls along the ground as you spot your father’s car in the driveway.

“Holy shit.” Natasha gapes, “All this space for one guy? There has to be a home cinema, I just know it.”

“Probably, the last house had a fancy library, like from a haunted house or something.”

“Smart, kind, rich, and handsome—I wonder how many people would kill to be in your shoes.” The redhead smiles coyly as you both walk up the steps, “after that incident last time, I hope you stretched in the train, babe.”

You scoff, “shut up—” your jaw snaps shut as the doors swing open, you’re met with your father’s wide grin as he sweeps you into his arms.

Wrapped in his familiar cologne, you return the embrace. “Finally you’re here! We’ve been waiting all day!” He exclaims, pressing kisses along the side of your face, his beard tickles your face.

“It’s only the afternoon, dad.” Your laugh breathlessly as he squeezes you tighter, “Where’s your fiancée?”

Your father pulls away, “She’s still sleeping, that woman can sleep through anything, she’s the heaviest sleeper I know.” He hugs and greets Natasha too, kissing her cheek. “I’m so glad you’re here, you bring out my daughter—she can be so shy sometimes.”

“It’s hard to be completely open with someone who I don’t know.” You frown.

“Yes, yes, I’m sorry, I just want everything to go as smoothly as possible.” He turns to you, that same lovesick glow in his eyes, “I think she’s the one, honey. I haven’t felt this way before.”

You force a smile, meeting Natasha’s eyes over his shoulder as he picks up your bags. While your dad leads you into the giant house, Natasha hooks your elbows together, offering you a few quiet words of understanding.

The interior of the house is a combination of white, black and neutral earth tones. Several doorways veer off into other directions as a grand staircase leads to the second floor, a sunroof allowing a downcast of sunshine. It’s a cozy industrial style with dark wood floors, subtle pipework and contrasting exposed brick walls.

In contrast to Chris’ previous estates, it’s raw—with the caged pendants and expertly repurposed furniture. Most noticeably, the dark round table centered with the beige rug, three fresh bouquets of roses, one of them already in a vase with water.

“Chris went on a run, he should be back soon and he bought these for the both of you.” Your father takes two bunches and hands them to you and Natasha, “He’s nothing if not charming, they’re real too. I’ll bring your bags to your room then find some more vases.”

While Natasha takes a short shower, you unpack your clothes and hang up your dresses. Your father popped back in to fix your bouquets and set them on the desk by the window.

The room was probably almost as big as your apartment. With two queen size beds on parallel walls, a walk-in closet and an ensuite. There was even a small seating room before you entered the rest of the room, fitted with couches, a television and an electric fireplace.

You change into a silk dress that ends at your calves and shrug on a cardigan before leaving the bedroom. As you walk down the hallway, you pass picture frame collages. Most are of Chris and his family around the world, Disneyland and in their other fancy mansions. Others are of Chris and his friends, including your father—one, in particular, is from when they reconnected after years.

Chris and your father were childhood best friends. Growing up in the same neighbourhood and attending school together, you remember your dad talking about the trouble they used to get into until Chris left to study abroad after high school.

They lost touch after that and your parents met, got married and had you. Years fly by, and Chris and your father loosely reconnect. You didn’t formally meet Chris until the summer after graduation.

You had gone with your dad to Chris’ house, one of them anyway—who knew how many properties that man had. First impressions were as good as they could be, Chris was kind, funny, a great host and handsome as hell. Surprisingly, that was when you met your dad’s secret-not-secret girlfriend at the time. Oddly enough she was Chris’ neighbour who met your dad when he was staying over for some old friend bonding. That relationship didn’t last long and neither did the next or the one after.

You wonder if Chris also was tired of your father’s record too, probably, since your father gives the same recycled “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this woman” speech.

Another woman to get to know only for her to disappear and for another one to take her place.

But Chris also cared for your dad, you knew from the friendly encouragement, compassion and concern. If you ever got the confidence to confront your dad, you’d ask Chris to help you.

“Back in high school, I was one of the quiet ones while Chris was practically everyone’s dream.” Your father laughs, hand entwined with the woman beside him, “He was doing it all, sports, student council, drama club.”

The older man laughs, “You make it sound like I was the guy when I was just a dude.”

You’re all seated around the table in Chris’ dining room. Remains of an early dinner spread on the table, courtesy of the personal chef who Chris hired for the day. He and your father planned the three days as a relaxing getaway, blabbering about the hot tub, heated pool and sauna by the home gym, “no need to ask permission—this is your house for your entire stay.”

Tomorrow is a girls trip while the men went on a hike in the neighbouring wilderness. Your father was adamant about you getting close with his new fiancée. A barbeque is planned for the second day, while everyone lounges beside the pool with drinks, soaking up the last bit of sun before fall comes in full force. The final day was free since your train ride is set for that evening and of course, your dad hinted at more quality with his fiancée, but Chris had spoken up too, “The girls might have course work, right? Any big projects coming up?” A clever way to stray the discussion.

Expectedly, he hasn���t said a word about the last trip, or even hinted at it. As if it didn’t even happen, you didn’t blame him. Although, you couldn’t help but admire his tight t-shirt, the material thin enough that you can see the tattoos on his skin, there are more than you remember. While you tried to sort your thoughts, Natasha was a natural conversationalist and got along with everyone, filling in those gaps of silence.

She’s glad to be the buffer after you found out your father’s new fiancee is only a few years older than you.

“I miss the days when we used to wait outside the supermarket, the ice cream truck would go by, it was a family business. Mr. and Mrs. Yan would always give us free cones…”

“Yeah, and you’d chase down every person who accidentally dropped change.” Chris points a finger at your father, “could’ve kept it and used it on the little kiddie rides.”

“That’s adorable.” Across the table, the young woman swoons, leaning her blond head on your father’s shoulder. “You’ve always been a sweet man, huh?”

“And tremendously frugal.” The blue-eyed man turns to you. At the head of the table, Chris sighs, “Your dad still refuses my money—just as he did when we were younger. Do you know I’ve caught him sneakily returning cash in my wallet? Like a little tooth fairy, except he was getting nothing.”

Everyone laughs, you and Natasha included. It’s lighthearted and casual, the plates are clear and the glasses almost empty as the sun begins to set, the rays peeking through the vast windows.

“I don’t want you to think I’m friends with you for your money!”

Chris rolls his eyes playfully, “I know that, you idiot—you’re lucky there are ladies present or I’d throw you into the pool.”

Admittedly, you’ve missed this. You’ve admired the friendship between your father and Chris, genuine and fun-loving, their years of experiences together were evident. Especially since Chris knows just how stingy your father could be. You’ve heard this same conversation a thousand times before, but Natasha hasn’t.

“What do you do?” The redhead asks, slowly sipping her drink. “This house is straight from Architectural Digest.”

“My grandparents own a hotel chain, worldwide and it’s up there with the Marriott and Hilton. I started working for them after college and now I travel around a lot for potential locations. Last week, I was in Miami—”

Your father interrupts, “—and he’s got quite the allowance—”

“—you know I hate that word, it makes me sound like a child.”

“—and his inheritance fuels the bachelor lifestyle. He’s like an older, but matured frat boy.”

Chris sighs, “Ah, frats, I wish I joined one instead of that private school shit—stuff, sorry, ladies.”

You can imagine him as a fratboy with a solo cup, an engaging yet cocky attitude, and being incredibly flirtatious. He already wears plaid, tight henleys, backwards caps, and that chain around his neck. If he shaved, he’d probably look ten years younger.

If you met fratboy Chris in college, you’d let him have you anytime and anywhere—you almost scoff to yourself—as if you wouldn’t let Chris as he is, older, distinguished and assertive, rail you into the next week.

As the memories come flooding back, you clench your thighs. While Natasha chats with your father and his fiancée, Chris catches your stare and licks his plump lips. His eyes trail down your low-cut dress, lingering on your breasts then returning to your face. He winks over his beer bottle.

And just like that, you’ve bitten the bait, and he’s reeling you in.

“How’s school for you both? Work?”

You clear your throat, stumbling over your answer. “We’re good… school is good.”

Natasha, bless her heart, swoops in. “It’s only the beginning of the semester, but I dread when exam season comes up. As for work,” She turns to you with a grin. Oh no, you know that look. “We work together actually.”

Your dad turns to you, his arm around his fiancée as if she would run away. Honestly, you almost want to tell her to run while she can. “You got a job? You didn’t tell me, hun.”

Your hand lands on Natasha’s thigh, squeezing as a silent form of look what you did. “Well, you finally took a vacation and met—her,” what was his fiancée's name? Carol? “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

The older man frowns, reaching over to take your free hand. His warm rough skin against yours as he hesitates, lowering his tone, “Is this about money? I said I’d always support you. Do you need—”

“No, no I just wanted,” You pause, trying to find the right words, “I wanted the responsibility—the work ethic. Skills that can help after I graduate.”

Beside you, Natasha hums in agreement. “She works so hard, to the point where she almost passes out right after a shift, but her customers love her, some even send her gifts.”

Oh god, you wonder if you should’ve just come alone.

Chris props his elbow on the table, blue eyes surveying your face, “Are you sure you’re okay? You know I’m here for you. With help, cash, advice—I’ve got a lot of experience under my belt,” He says slowly, “you know, budgeting and anything…”

You tear your fingers from your father's, taking a large gulp of water. “Yeah, I just wanted the, uh, discipline.”

Your father contemplates for a few moments then nods and launches into a story of his teens when he got his first job at a local retail store. You try to listen, even though you know it like the back of your hand, but you’re compelled to the man across from you. Chris’ dark gaze is set on you, almost pinning you in your chair. He takes a slow sip of his beer, a drop on his lips before he licks it away.

You feel something touch your ankle, trailing up your leg as his hand disappears beneath the table. Your father’s voice blends into background noise as Chris’ muscles flex under his shirt, his jaw clenched tight under his beard.

If someone could read minds, they’d be appalled by his thoughts.

On the walls of his mind are lewd fantasies. They’re all of you. Nude, a sheen of sweat coating your skin as he spits out commands, all of which you follow enthusiastically. Discipline, he knew you liked things a little rough from your shows. He’s witnessed you begging for guidance, and when you got it, you’d either follow them seamlessly or deliberately disobey.

A submissive angel who had a bratty side, with a love for being told what to do, and an even bigger desire to be punished.

His imagination is halted by your father's fiancée.

“My first job was at a juice bar, it was in the park of one of those high-class neighbourhoods. The ones with the fancy fountains and weekly celebrations. In the winter, we served hot chocolate and got off early—which was great because my boyfriend at the time had a job down the pier.” Carol turns to you, “Which was the best, everyone went to the pier, it was much less kept than where I worked. God, I loved the sunset there.”

Your dad smiles, “We always watch the sunset if we can.”

“I can only imagine what it looks like from here, with no big buildings to block the view.”

“Then, let’s head out to the backyard. We can watch the sunset on the deck—which I helped build over the summer.”

Chris kisses his teeth, “I said thank you a million times and tried to pay you—what else do you want, jerk?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: good gosh, I can't wait to share the next part with all of you !! we get to see dbf!chris being filthy and meet a new character (a certain neighbour), jealousy drops by too !

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! next part: Feb. 11 @ 6pm EST.

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[tendousthoughts]

HQ Boys Thinking Their S/O Left Them Pt. 3

Character(s) included: Oikawa & Kyoutani

Requested by: @chibiiichann

Warning(s): Cursing, Mention of bullying [Oikawa], Mention of flinching [Kyoutani], Hints towards readers tough past [Kyoutani]

Song of the day: Trees II by McCfferty

A/N: First off thanks for 200- I know I said it a lot but I’m just so glad! Next, many of you haven’t seen but I have updated a few things. One of the biggest being my name I go by. At the moment I’m trying out Xic. I also noted my pronouns and stuff. Which you can all find on my announcements post. Now back to some more ‘important’ things [though this is important, this is not why you came here!]. Sorry about the long wait for part three! Please read through the warnings again to make sure everything is okay. Thank you for everything. Bye!

Where to find all the parts!

Where to find all my content!

Tag(s): @chibiiichann & @corporeal-terrestrial

Oikawa

He was at it again. Working late nights and shit. You were happy for him. You were. Of course you were. He was back doing what he loved. He was back playing volleyball. With that happiness also came fear and worry. You knew how he was. Everyone who ever met him, knew how he was. He over worked himself. He always did and scared you. No matter how hard he tried not to. He pushed himself past his limits. Even after the doctor already told him, if he didn’t ease up on the practice, his knee would get even worse. But he was Oikawa Tōru. Determined and intelligent.

It was ten thirty and he already missed your date. Which you expected to happen, but it still kind of hurt. You tried calling for the fifth time that night, but you were met with the same thing. After a few rings it went to voicemail.

“Hey! You’ve reached the voicemail of Oikawa Tōru, thank you for calling! At the moment I’m busy but I promise after I’m done I’ll call you back. If you want, leave me a message and I’ll get back to you. Byeee!”

You waited all night for him to come home around twelve thirty. He looked tired. Extremely tired and to be honest that pissed you off more. Not only did he not respond but he over worked himself again, and when he woke up the next night sore, you were the one who would have to take care of him.

Instead of bringing it up you waited for the morning. Not wanting to have this conversation while he was tired. It would feel like you were talking to yourself, and he wouldn’t understand. So you went to bed with him and by the morning he was already up before you.

You went to the kitchen to find him shuffling through your medication bin. “Are you sore?” You ask, looking at him.

“I’ll be fine, I just need breakfast and some medicine,” he muttered. He couldn’t have cared less. At least that’s what it looked like. He didn’t even spare you a glance.

“Maybe you should listen. You know, lay off volleyball practice for a day or something. Try to lesson the hours and stuff..” You looked back at him for his reaction.

“Can’t. If I ease up I’ll never be able to catch up.” He finally looked to you now, finding the medicine.

“I mean I think you will be fine. It is taking over your whole life and stuff so I just don’t want it to be a bigger issue. Like you know.. with your knees and stuff.” Your eyes are pinned on him.

“I told you not to worry about my knee, and it’s not taking up my life okay? It has and will always be my life. It’s the only thing I’m good at. So no, I'm not going to take a break.” He snapped at you. Which caught you off guard.

“It is… It is taking up your life,” you replied which made his face change.

“You don’t understand how it is like me. You don’t! I understand you don’t have anything you're good at and shit. But you have to understand that I actually have goals in life okay? You have to understand that my fucking life won’t revolve around you and how you feel when I do something. It won’t and never will. You and I are together because I feel like having you around. Because you know what, volleyball is the only thing that distracts me from leaving. Volleyball is the only thing I can do to escape you!” He screamed.

It takes a few seconds for the weight of his words to sink into your skin. But here’s the thing. You knew what you were up against when you started dating him. He just lit a fuse in you. A spark that made an explosion of feelings hit you. When it did you couldn’t control your words. “After all that practice I wondered why you never made it to nationals. I mean seriously. You need a distraction from me, right? Your always doing it, and get you can’t even fucking get to nationals. Not only that but I can see why your last girlfriend left you. You're a dick. You can’t remember a fucking date. A fucking date we have been planning for weeks. Oh wait, let me correct that, a date I’ve been planning for weeks. Not only that but I took my fucking time to work around your schedule. For you not to even send a message.” You spat out. You looked down at him, “I wonder sometimes if everyone was right. You and me. Never belonged. I’m just a distraction from such a ‘handsome’ and ‘kind’ person.”

He looked hurt at first, but then again he started it and intended to finish it. “I can see why your whole family doesn’t talk to you. You always think you're the best or something. Maybe I remembered the date. Have you ever thought of that? Maybe I didn’t wanna hangout with you. Maybe I didn’t want to hear you nagging me every fucking second. You know what? I can see why people fucking hate you. Bully you and shit. Your such a fucking selfish freak.”

“What..?” You looked at him. You told him you were bullied, because you thought of him as your safe space. You thought of him as the only person who understood you. You felt safe when he was around you. You felt understood. To use that against you. To say you deserved it. To say you deserved to get hurt. To get shamed. To get everything that happened to you… it was your fault?

“What are you too dumb to understand?” He laughed at you. Hatred and venom spilling from his lips. “Awe.. look at the baby. You should be grateful I didn't break up with you. You should be thankful because I’m the only reason you're even someone.”

Tears filled your eyes. “God fucking damn it.” You muttered softly. You weren’t going to allow him to take you down. You were stronger then he would ever understand. “You really think anyone wants to hang out with you..? Do you fucking think anyone find you a good person..? Your just a fucking pretty face, okay? Your nothing compared to anyone else on your team. You might not realize it but to be honest sometimes I do want to be set free. Set free from this shitty relationship okay? That’s the truth. Sometimes I get sick of having to take care of you. When your fucking sore before you over works your self again. I am the only one trying to keep you okay. I’m the only one who actually thinks about the long run. No matter how hard you practice in the end you won’t even be able to walk. Let alone play volleyball and shit. You know what sometimes I get sick of being the only fucking one trying to keep us together.”

“Then maybe you should give up okay. Maybe we should finally go our separate ways. I mean after all, you're too easy.” He was hurt. He just blurted out whatever he thought would hurt you the most. Which fucking worked. Before you had said anything more he had left the room, leaving you stunned.

It took a moment but before you knew it you were out of the house, crying and walking the farthest away from your shared house as you could. “Fuck..” you whisper. Did he really not want to be with you..? You should have known. This relationship wasn’t a relationship. You barely talked. You felt alone. So fucking alone.

It took an hour for him to fully cool down. When he walked out of the room he was expecting you to be waiting for him. He was expecting everything to be okay. When he was met with the emptiness. The emptiness of you being actually gone. He was met with the realization that his words were taken just how he thought he wanted them to be.

You on the other hand we’re at the park blasting music in your ears. Forcing the thoughts to be pushed deep down. Forcing you to forget everything. Everything that hurts you. Maybe it would be best if you guys did go your separate ways..? You knew this wasn’t good for your mental health. But fuck that. This was the only thing that made you feel grounded. Made you feel okay. When he wasn’t with you or practicing he was out with friends, drinking and partying. You couldn’t continue to live like this. So maybe it would be best to let go. To give up on everything and everything you loved… your everything was him. You always argued and at this point you felt sick. Thinking about it just broke you. You had no more tears to cry, with your tear stained cheeks you decided to go back. To your home. It was over. Everything you had built up was coming crashing down.

On his side he was freaking out. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew there was no excuse for what he did to you, but what could he say? You were gone already. It took a bit for him to get to the nerve to call you. To his surprise he heard the sound of your ringing phone. So you left it. Maybe you were going to come back. Maybe you will and then everything will be okay again. Maybe everything would be perfect. It was a small chance but that's all he could hold on to.

When you walked in it was quiet, but there were soft whimpers and cries coming from your shared room. Gently you knocked on the door and waited for a response. You were surprised when you immediately heard a stumble and then were met with a hug. Your shoulder almost immediately feels wet to the touch. “Ba.. Oikawa..?” You muttered.

“Please don’t call me that.. please..” He muttered softly. His face buried deep into your clothes.

You kinda ignored his response. “I came back to get my stuff. I took into consideration what you said and I realized that you don’t deserve to be distracted by me all the time..” You whispered softly. “So like you said earlier.. I think it is best if we stop seeing each other.. entirely because I don’t know if I could let you go otherwise..”

His arms tightened around you, “C..can we please talk about it first.. please..” his nightmare was coming true, and maybe it was dumb but he didn’t realize how much he needed you.

“There’s nothing to talk about.. I don’t understand why you want to make it harder on me. I gave you what you wanted okay..? You can practice your heart out and hangout with your friends and stuff okay? You can finally find someone who will fit all your needs. You and I both know that I will never be what you want. So maybe it would be best if we just let go..”

“No… please no.. that’s not what I want.. I want to make it up to you and be there for you and I want to make you happy and I want everything to be perfect. I know I messed up okay? I don’t deserve you and I don’t know what came over me today because you're everything I’ve ever wanted. I know I don’t deserve it and there’s no excuse for what I said or did… I know I should let you find someone better but I love you. I love you so fucking much. I know I’ve been lacking and I want to make up for it. I want to be someone you want to be around again.. I love you so fucking much okay? I should have been there. I shouldn’t have said the things I did. I know I don’t deserve a second chance but please.. just one more.. I promise I’ll make it up to you.” He didn’t want to let go of everything.

“I’m sorry too.. you didn’t deserve it. I’m sorry for everything and that’s why I want to let you go. To find someone who will not hurt you like I hurt you.. You and I both know that I can't resist it. I don’t know why you do this to me.. pull me back.. you have one more chance… Please don’t make me regret it. I really love you but this.. this isn’t going to work if we do what we are doing now okay? We will just tear each other more and more apart..” you whispered gently, kissing his head. Your arms finally meet his back as you hold him. “I’m sorry.. but I’ve got you now baby. I love you so fucking much..”

Kyoutani

Kyoutani was the type of person most people would never understand. Not because they were “difficult” or anything.. they just never took the time too. Well other than you. You were different. You understood his outburst and such. But at the same time you were human. There was only so much you could take. There was only so much you would take.

When he came into the locker room you were already waiting for him. He had been thrown out of the game for fighting with a few people. You knew he was frustrated. You could hear the crowd from a mile away shouting to kick him off. It was harsh. Even for ‘mad dog’ which he hated to be called. He hated to be tied to an animal.. and always being an angry reck. Anybody would. But of course nobody understood other than you. When he sat on the bench you immediately rushed over.

“Baby.. I’m sorry.. You didn’t deserve that.. just ignore them, please. I know it’s hard but their not important okay..?” You we’re just trying to comfort him. But there were times when Kyoutani couldn’t control himself. Like any other person when they get looked down at every fucking moment of their lives. When they are ridiculed and laughed at all the time. When they are nothing more than an angry person.. Sometimes there is nothing more to do than be the person everyone so desperately makes you out to be.

“Not important? Not important! I just got fucking kicked from the game because of them chanting to kick me. They didn’t even fucking have the decency to call me by my name. So don’t tell me it’s okay and that their opinion on me doesn’t matter. Because quite frankly their opinion is the only one that matters it seems.” He lashed out.

“I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just that.. it wasn’t entirely their fault. You were arguing with the other team members.” You muttered. It wasn’t meant to do any harm, just for him to keep in mind.

“Are you serious right now.? Nobody else got kicked. Nobody. If they can’t handle a little trash talking, maybe they shouldn’t play a sport. I mean seriously there’s no need for them to tell the referees to kick me.” He started raising his voice when he spoke.

“I know it’s just that.. maybe you should try and not trash talk you know?” You whispered softly, retreating a bit.

“What?” He looked annoyed. “God ducking damn it. How can you be so cute but so fucking annoying. I mean seriously how can someone with such a face be so fucking dumb and so annoying?” His hands were balled into fist

“I..I don’t understand, can you tell me why you act so sweet..? Then so cold the next moment..? You don’t mean it right..? Please say you don’t mean it.” You were worried you loved him but god it was hard. It was hard to respond when your friends asked about your relationship. It was hard when they flaunted their perfect relationship and then asked about yours. Its was so fucking hard.

“Do you think I would say it otherwise..?” He looked at you. He laughed at you as he saw your pitiful expression. God it was almost sickening how much he saw that expression. That expression that nobody else had ever shown him. The one of worry  but at the same time already knowing it was coming. He loved it. He loved everything about you. But most of the time you pissed him off. This relationship wasn’t healthy. But for god sake you already started counseling. But fuck this was a bad idea.

Silence. Nothing could come out. You wanted to scream. You wanted to forget this. You wanted it to stop. Everything to stop.

“Answer me.” He punched the wall next to you. Fear spreading all over your face. Fuck. Fuck. Not here. Please no. He gripped your warm face making it so cold in seconds. Forcing you to look at him he laughed at your crying face. But when you didn’t stop for a minute he immediately backed away. He fucked up. He knew he fucked up. “Wait I’m sorry baby..” he muttered.

“Please stop. Please. I won’t do it again.” Flashbacks we’re pulling you way too far out. You were drowning. No one was around to save you. He was laughing as you begged to be saved, pushing you deeper into your own pool of your own thoughts. You were so cold. The next second you were able to move back to the surface.

Realization hit as he stepped back. “I..I am sorry..” he muttered softly as he left the room without another word leaving his mouth. Words were banging on his lips but he knew if he spilled them out everything out it would just hurt you ten times more.

You got up five minutes later, finally pulled back to reality and decided to get up. Grabbing your stuff you walked back into the stadium. Waving a small wave to the rest of his team before exiting. Confusion was read all over as they saw your tear stained face. To be honest, all that was running through your mind was that you didn’t want Kyoutani to break up with you. You didn’t want to be alone, again. You didn’t want to be just another one of his ex’s. So for the better of both of you it would be best to leave him be. To let him cool off.. for him to feel better.

He was freaking out. He fucked up. You. You were his everything, not only that but you were more than just that. You were like a fucking rainbow at the end of a rainy day. You were his partner in crime. You made him feel normal, you made him feel safe, and loved. He couldn’t believe he just put that all in danger. He just put everything on the line because of some stupid game. He hit the wall hard, “fuck me. I’m sorry y/n..” he muttered as he sank to the floor and balled up. Tears burning through his eyes. He did the one thing he promised you that he would protect you from. You became the one thing he was always scared of becoming. He loved you so much, he love you so fucking much.

You left and got into your car. Sinking into your seat you locked the doors, and hit the steering wheel. Taking a deep breath salty tears rolled down your already stained face. Placing the key in and turning it the car started. Next thing you knew you had left wherever you could go. You loved him. So fucking much. But it was hard to be okay when he acted so fucking rough with you. It was hard to stay calm and not imagine your past relationship in this one. You tried. You really did but god it was hard to feel okay, feel okay about everything happening around you. It was too much. So fucking much. It made your head hurt.

When the game ended Kyoutani was still freaking out, now moved back into the lockers. He didn’t know what he was expecting but he knew he hoped you would still be there. God damn it. He fucked up. You had left. You were gone. Tears brimming his eyes as he teammates walked in. Now mentioning it to his teammates their faces seemed to change. More salty fucking tears left his eyes, as he heard about what type of pain you looked like you were in.

You headed back to your shared place. Unsure where else to go. You weren’t close with your family anymore. You had no friends. You had no work buddies. You had nobody but Kyoutani and in turn, now you were left alone with the thought of everything being gone. Ripped right out of your hands as you're forced to watch your whole world come crumbling down on you. You placed your stuff down on the side and laid on the bed. It smelled just like safety. Just like Kyoutani. You just wanted to be held. You just wanted everything to be perfect, again. To be okay at least. You needed him more than anything.

After a night out he finally made it back to your shared place. He didn’t want to be back without you, but you weren’t answering and he didn’t know what else to do. When he walked into the apartment he slowly walked into your shared room. There he saw you. Laying in bed cuddled up in the blankets. Slowly and carefully he walked up. Not wanting to cause you any more hurt. He missed you. Even for a few hours he had felt like he hadn’t seen you in years. But maybe that was because he thought that’s what might have happened. Maybe he thought you had left for good. Maybe he thought he would never have the chance to apologize. Never have the chance to hold you again. When he reached the bed he noticed that you were awake. “Hey y/n..” he muttered softly. The silence was killing him. “I’m so sorry. I know I fucked up. I promised to make you feel safe and protected around me. I made a promise to keep you safe and protected. I broke both of those. I fucked up. I know I did. I lashed out again. I did exactly what everyone says I do. I just get so fucking heated for no reason and I know I shouldn’t and I know I should just relax. But I feel like if I do the worlds would burn though my throat and then it would just explode.. and I know it’s stupid and I know I end up hurting you more. I know that there is no good reason to do that. But I just.. I don’t know. You're the only one that makes me feel normal okay..? I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not. You just make me feel like whenever I’m with you that I’m floating. I just want everything to be okay again. I want everything to be back to normal. I know I should give you space but I missed you so much. I don’t want you to leave, please don’t leave..” he was crying again. He barely had any tears left to cry. He wanted to hold you but he knew it was a stupid idea. “I’m sorry for being so selfish.. but please..”

You never really heard him or saw him crack. But fuck. It hurts you so much. To see him beg for you to stay with him. What were you supposed to do..? Leave him now? That was never even the plan. You didn’t have a plan to be honest. You sat up biting your lip before you gently held him. “Hey baby it will be okay.. calm down I’ve got you.. I’m not going anywhere now. I promise you I’m not going anywhere.” You muttered softly. He melted into your touch. He knew he didn’t deserve it but he felt like he couldn’t breathe. “Shush… I’ve got you.. take a deep breath..” you mumbled softly kissing his head as he took deep breaths. Soon enough he was relaxed in your arms again. “You know and I know that I love you so much. But there’s a line between where I can take it and I can’t. I understand you get frustrated but I don’t deserve to be treated like that. I don’t deserve to be scared of being hit.. and I know we both know that. I try to be understanding but you need to try to be too okay..? I love you so much.. more than you might believe but Kyoutani I can’t handle being in a relationship with you if you're constantly annoyed or angry with me. I think we deserve to be happy.. and if that means needing to take a break then we would have to okay? You need to work on communicating. I know it can be hard.. but please..” you whispered. Tears flowing down your soft skin again. It was getting a lot. So it would be best if you told him… you needed him to understand.

He gently shook his head. He understood. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he was lucky for you to be holding him.. for him to even still be in a relationship with you let alone it be still a romantic one. He loved you and he knew you didn’t deserve anything that he put you through. In the end all that mattered was you in his eyes. He was going to change.. he was. “I promise.. thank you y/n..” he whispered softly. Gently he wrapped his arms around you. “I love you so much..” he muttered. Everything would be okay.. he knew it was going to be now. All that mattered was that you were safe. That you were happy.. that you were in his arms again.

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[storiesforallfandoms]

when they wrongfully accuse you of cheating ~ misfits

request?: yes!

“Hello, can you do please do post about Misfits when they wrongly accuses reader of cheating? Have a nice day❤”

warnings: swearing, mentions of cheating, angst

masterlist (one, two)

FITZ:

After his not so great run in with She Who Shall Not be Names (Katerino), Cameron’s trust levels were not very high. When he started dating you, he tried to push those concerns to the back of his mind. You had a similar experience with an ex as he had with Kate, so he felt the likeliness of you cheating on him was very slim. But then he met a friend of yours, a friend that happened to be a guy, a guy friend that Cameron felt was getting a little too close to you. This, unfortunately, resulted in a fight that lasted nearly an entire hour. “(Y/F/N) is just a friend, Cam! There’s nothing between us!” “You spend so much more time with him than you do with me, though. You’re always out together, you always want to hang out with him, you were even out with him the other night when you told me you were going out for a girl’s night!” You scoffed and handed the final blow of the argument, “If you fucking listened to me for one second you’d let me explain that (Y/F/N) is fucking gay!” You slammed the door behind you as you left Cameron’s apartment, leaving him speechless, heartbroken, and feeling like a complete fucking idiot.

~~~~~~

INOTORIOUS:

While Matt often did join in on the jokes at his expense with his friends, he couldn’t help but take them to heart too. He knew none of his friends meant anything by what they were saying, but he often found himself believing the playful insults they threw his way. This led to him believing he wasn’t good enough to be with you and worrying about the day when you’d realize you could do better and break up with him. All his fears and insecurities came to a head when he noticed how close of friends you and Cam were becoming. “I don’t like that you hang out with Cam so much.” You looked up at him over your laptop, raising an eyebrow. “Why not?” “I just...I don’t like it. I don’t mind that you’re friends with the guys, but you and Cam are...you’re different. I don’t like it.” You placed your laptop aside and sat up so you could directly walk to him. “What exactly is different about me and Cam?” “You just...you’re all touchy feely and you have inside jokes and you hang out alone together a lot...like...like a lot a lot.” “I don’t hang out with Cam alone at all. Usually one of the guys is there with us.” “You go out smoking weed with him.” “Yeah, and you can see us through the glass windows that lead out into the backyard, that’s hardly alone. What’s this really about, Matt?” He shuffled in his seat, not wanting to voice the concerns that he had. He was looking down at his hands, avoiding eye contact at all costs. This was enough of an answer for you. “You think I’m gonna fool around with Cam behind your back?” Matt started to shake his head, but then stopped. “Matt, you know I’d never do that to you. Cam is just my friend, I think of him as the big brother I never had.” “But he’s...he’s like...so much better than I am...” You stood up to hug Matt, bringing his head to your chest and cradling him as you ran your fingers through your hair. “Cam is far from better than you, Matt. You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I’d be crazy to let you go for anyone else, let alone Cam. You’re my one and only, okay? I love you.”

~~~~~~

MCCREAMY:

Long distance relationships sucked ass. Especially when the person you were dating was in a whole other country with a totally conflicting time zone. Having the times line up where you and Jay could call one another and talk for long periods of time very rarely ever lined up. It was hard, but the two of you tried your best. You texted each other at least once every day and tried to call when possible, and even posted cute little Instagram things just so you could tag one another in them. Jay saw one of these posts one day and his heart felt light with happiness. He wished he could just see you in person and finally be able to hold you and kiss you. He was about to continue scrolling when another post by you popped up, this time with another guy. It was a mirror selfie from a club of some kind. You were dressed in short shorts and a crop top and you were basically sitting in the guy’s lap. Jay felt himself becoming slightly angry at the post. Obviously you had meant to post it, there was a caption and the person was tagged, but had you meant for him to see it? He called you almost immediately, not caring if he was waking you or interrupting something. You answered on the second ring, sounding like you had been drifting off to sleep. “Jay? What’s up?” “Who is that in your latest Instagram picture?” You hummed in response, still out of it. “Didn’t I post one of the two of us?” “I meant before that.” You made another noise like you were thinking, before saying, “Oh, that’s (Y/F/N).” “Why were you sat on his lap in the picture?” “Jay, can we talk about this later? I can barley form a coherent thought right now so it feels like everything you’re saying it going over my head.” “No, I want you to tell me right now why you posted that picture with another guy.” There was some shuffling, then the sound of a light turning on. He could hear you yawn on the other end before you said, “Did you read the caption at all?” “A little.” He hadn’t. “Then you know that the picture is from years ago, before you and I even met. And that I was posting it to remember when (Y/F/N) and I met years ago in a bar when he photobombed a picture I was taking.” Jay was silent. He didn’t really know how to respond to that at all. He was starting to feel like an idiot, why didn’t he just read the caption? “I’m gonna go back to sleep,” you said, breaking the silence. “Call me at a reasonable time when you’re ready to apologize for whatever this was about.” Jay listened as you hung up, leaving him in shocked silence, feeling like a complete idiot.

~~~~~~

SWAGGERSOULS:

Despite his jokes online about his appearance, Swagger was actually pretty insecure about the way he looked. When the two of you had first started talking online, he refused to do video calls or to send you pictures for the first while because he was afraid you wouldn’t find him attractive. He build a small bit of confidence to finally start talking to you face to face and to actually meet you in person. But the insecurities regarding his looks were always there, and they led to your first fight as a couple when Swagger saw you dancing with a guy while you, the Misfits, and some of your girl friends were out together. “Why the fuck were you dancing with him?!” he called over the thumping club music. “I didn’t know I was dancing with him! I thought it was (Y/F/N)! We went out onto the dancefloor together and I thought she was still behind me. I didn’t know it was another guy until you came over.” Swagger scoffed and rolled his eyes. You raised an eyebrow at him. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” “Nothing.” “No, tell me Swagger.” “I just have a hard time believing you didn’t know some guy was grinding up behind you and you really just thought it was your friend. Did you really think I wouldn’t see? That I wouldn’t do anything about it?” “I didn’t fucking know!” “Whatever, (Y/N). Enjoy your dancing!” He left you shocked as you watched him walk away. Your face was on fire from anger and confusion, meanwhile Swagger was downing the beer he had in his hand, hoping to forget the night entirely when he woke up the next morning.

~~~~~~

TOBYONTHETELE:

Toby prided herself on not being jealous or jumping to conclusions. She had a massive amount of trust in you, she always had. You had never given her a reason to believe otherwise. But when you started hiding your text messages from her, taking your phone with you every time you left the room instead of just leaving it there like you usually did, being vague about where you were and what you were doing, Toby couldn’t help but feel suspicious. You had never acted this way before, and she knew she shouldn’t jump to conclusions but she just couldn’t help it. All the signs pointed to one thing: you were seeing someone else. Toby worried over it for so long that she nearly made herself sick, and that’s when she finally snapped. She confronted you when you came home from one of your secret “errands” you went on. “If you’re cheating on me, just fucking break up with me and get it over with.” You were shocked. “What? Babe, I’m not cheating on you. Why would you think that?” “You’re so secretive and you hide your texts from me and your phone. You’re always so open with me, but lately you’ve been hiding something. The only logical thing is you’re seeing someone else.” You tried to hold back your laugh but it was nearly impossible. You started to giggle, which frustrated Toby even more. “Toby, I’m not seeing someone else. It’s going to ruin everything, but I was being secretive cause I was trying to plan this big surprise birthday party for you.” You laughed harder at her dumbfounded face as you hugged her and kissed her cheek. “You know I’d never cheat on you, babe. I love you too much.”

~~~~~~

ZUCKLES:

Mason loved to party. Literally everyone knew that, you included. You were more than fine with that, but what you weren’t fine with was him always leaving you alone when he went to parties. At first it was just nerve wracking considering the fact that you didn’t know anyone, but then it became downright frustrating for your boyfriend to leave your side the minute you walked through the doors of a house party or a club. It was even worst because it gave creepy drunk guys the opportunity to try and flirt with you because you were there all alone. The night that Mason finally caught some guy getting a little too close to you, you felt relief when he saved you. The relief quickly went away when Mason’s angry face turned to face you. “Who the fuck was that?” You scrunched up your nose at the stench of alcohol coming from him. “Some creep. Can we go home?” “Why was he getting close to you like that?” You scoffed. “Why are you getting so angry? He was flirting with me, not the other way around Mason.” “I don’t like finding my girlfriend getting close with some other dude when I’m not around. How many times has this happened?” You felt anger rising within you. How the fuck was he here getting angry with you when you were the one being hit on by some creep? “It’s happened nearly every time that you have left me alone when we go out, Mason. Which, newsflash, has been every time we go out! Don’t fucking stand here and get angry with me when you leave me alone for creepy drunk guys to try and hit on every time we go out! Also, the fact that you’d even think that I would hit on a guy when you’re not around is an extremely low fucking blow, Mason. I love you more than anything, I would never even think about flirting with someone else. The fact that you’re accusing me of anything right now and not listening to me is so fucking disgusting. I thought we had trust Mason!” When you started to walk away, Mason grabbed your arm. “Where are you going?” You yanked your arm free and responded, “Home! You make the decision if you trust me enough to believe me!”

[yutahoes]

Different

(Fourth Part)

pairing : Yuta Nakamoto x Y/N

word count : 3.6k words

genre : fluff, angst

The last part of Different. 

One - Two - Three - Four

Yuta was staring at the coffee cup in front of him. Today is the day Y/N and Haru are going to New York, with Doyoung. Although he knew their flight details, he doesn’t want to go to the airport or it might just break him. It might be the last time he can see his son. The last time there’s a connection between him and Y/N. So instead of staying in Korea, where he can stop them, he flew to Japan days before.

The chair moved followed by a screeching sound that made him look at the girl occupying the chair in front of him. "You look stressed," Mika commented while removing her sunglasses and placing her bag on the chair beside her. "Where’s Y/N? Haru?" 

He smiled. Funny, she would ask that. “They’re going to New York.” He mumbled then drank the contents of the glass. 

Mika asked why and he shared about the procedure and the high chance that Haru can get treated in another country. “And you just let them go?” The question startled Yuta. “Your son is sick, his mom must be stressed out right now and his dad just abandoned them.” She continued with a scoff. 

"I don't know what to do, Mika. I'm really lost." He confessed. “I can’t do anything to save him. And everyday becomes harder. I’m scared that one day, Haru will be gone.”  

"Because you're always such a coward, Yuta" She claimed that made him look at her. What? "You're scared to get hurt. Isn't that the reason why you married me? Because you're scared that my parents might hurt you if you don't fulfill my promise. Look at us, we're not even happy with each other." Yuta nodded, that might be the case. "Isn't that the reason why you never told Y/N your feelings?"

The guy glared at him and Mika just looked happy at what she claimed. “If it’s hard for you, then what about Y/N? She doesn’t want you to save your child, she wanted you to be there for your child.” Yuta smiled. Mika makes sense and it amazes him that the girl he protects when they were young is telling him these things. “Go to them. I never divorced you just to be miserable like this.” 

“Thank you, Mika.” 

The girl smiled. “Don’t thank me. You should have been with her from the start so please, tell her that you’re in love with her since junior year and that Haru isn’t a mistake.” Yuta chuckled, nodding at her. “I have another meeting but here’s a present for you, it might help cure Haru.” She handed him an envelope before leaving the coffee shop. 

Yuta brushed his hair when he read the contents of the paper. A way to cure Haru. He does need to go to New York. 

But New York is a huge place, he thought. How can he find them in this place? The answer came when he accidentally saw Doyoung while searching for hospitals. The only conversation they had was when Haru introduced the two of them, he didn’t know that he was dating Y/N back then. Now, it feels awkward to be in front of another guy who liked the girl you love. “Haru will be doing a chemotherapy session here and then they might go back to Korea and continue the treatment.” The doctor's voice became quieter, “He might not live for a year.”  

Yuta nodded. So his son’s sickness is that severe already? He was aware that cancer in his blood is spreading to his body, the reason why chemo is essential to help him survive. But less than a year to live? Haru is still young. He can still do a lot of things in his life. Y/N might have a lot of dreams for him. Yuta handed an envelope to Doyoung and waited until he can digest the information written on the paper, “Will this save Haru?” 

“Giving him a sibling?” Doyoung asked then nodded. “It’s a fifty-fifty chance and the chances are high if they have the same DNA.” So it is indeed possible. All he had to do is ask Y/N to have a child with him. But that is the most difficult task. “Yuta, if you’re doing this for just Haru please don’t. Haru will just feel bad that he had to use a sibling to save himself. And Y/N wouldn’t like it.” 

He sighed. “I’m sorry. All I wanted to do now is save Haru. I know you and Y/N are together but….” 

But Doyoung laughed. "I don't know how much she told you but I was rejected when I proposed to her." They're already at that point in their relationship? "Don't make her feel alone again, please." He suddenly felt bad, why did she reject him when Doyoung is obviously in love with her? “This is their hotel,” he said while slipping him a piece of paper. "Haru has a session tomorrow morning. He will be happy to see you." Yuta nodded which made Doyoung smile. 

His first step to being brave for his family. 

"Appa!" Haru called, running to where he is. Yuta gave him a big hug then carried the younger boy in his arms. "Why are you here? I missed you." 

Yuta laughed then ruffled his hair. "I missed you too." He gave a timid smile to Y/N. "I have to be here for you." Haru nuzzled his head on his neck, whispering that he's glad he is here with him and that he's not too scared now. It was Haru who kept on telling him about what he saw in New York, even memorizing the way from the hotel to the hospital which made Yuta's heart hurt. Will this be happening often? 

The younger boy greeted everyone in the hospital, even introducing Yuta to some nurses and doctors. Y/N was only following close by. They stopped outside a room with oncology written on it. Cancer. It really is severe. A man came out of the room and Haru smiled, calling him 'Doctor Johnny'. "This is my dad." He introduced and he smiled at the doctor attending Haru. "I'll be inside. Appa, can you get eomma something to eat?" Yuta lightly glanced at Y/N before nodding at Haru, ruffling his hair once again. 

Haru went inside the room with Johnny after saying goodbye to his parents. "He's going back right?" Y/N nodded, smiling timidly at him. "Let's get some breakfast." 

It feels awkward sitting in front of Y/N in a hospital cafeteria but Yuta was sure that this is what will happen if the treatment continues. He never took her on a date before and now, they're just eating breakfast in this crowded place instead of a diner. "His hair is thinning out." Yuta started, feeling the soft strands on his fingers. "Doyoung told me about the sessions." 

Y/N nodded, rubbing the lips of her cup. "He might not live until his birthday." A heavy sigh escaped Yuta's mouth. "I don't even know what to do. I'm not prepared to lose him." No one is. But she is the most affected of all. "He's everything I have. I honestly don't know what to do without him, Yuta." He held her hand that was above the table. Honestly, he doesn't know what to tell her. The feeling of being useless came once again. Mika is wrong, she doesn't need him. 

"Thank you, Yuta." He gave her a questioning gaze. "For bringing me Haru." There was a small smile on her face as if thinking deeply. "When I graduated, I didn't know what to do. When Haru came, I was so scared at first but he gave me direction in life. He gave meaning to my life." Again, she smiled at him. "Thank you, Yuta." 

He gave her a small smile, rubbing a thumb on the back of her hand. "Y/N, I have to tell you something." He sighed. "That night wasn't a mistake. I knew you were at that party and I followed you upstairs." She listened attentively as if recalling that night. "I regret it when you left me that morning. I should have woke up early and made you stay." 

A gasp escaped her throat. "Why? We don't know each other." 

"But I like you since junior year." Y/N’s eyes widened at that which made him chuckle. She’s just too cute. “I lied to Haru, I didn’t saw you first in school. It was at a bus stop during junior year.” He can see from her expression how she was thinking deeply of it. “It was raining and you gave your umbrella to an old lady. You helped her cross the street and you return to the shed dripping wet from the rain.” He smiled at the memory of the younger Y/N, walking in the rain and looking like a real angel. “That was the time I started liking the rain.” He said more to himself. “I started to like you.” 

“But Mika…”

Yuta smiled timidly. “I thought I love Mika but it’s just the feeling of comfort.” He had known Mika since they were young and she had been there for him. It’s a dick move but he married Mika knowing that he won’t be alone. In the end, they just hurt each other. “I’ve been a coward in facing my feelings, Y/N. If only I’m braver, Haru wouldn’t get hurt this much.”

Y/N shook her head. “Thank you, Yuta. For being here for Haru.”

“I’m also here for you.” He held her hand tighter. “If it’s alright with you, I want to watch Haru grow with you.” He kissed the back of her palm. “Let’s start over, not only for Haru but for the two of us.” 

The girl smiled, tears forming on the corner of her eyes. She nodded that made him grin. 

----

Haru’s first reaction when he exited the room of his doctor is excitement seeing his parents holding hands. Y/N and Yuta didn’t say anything but the younger would stare at the two in glee. Y/N would always note that he looked brighter now that he is here and Yuta would only smile. The younger had fun exploring some places in New York and eating foods that they can see only in the city. Because of tiredness, he was already sleeping while leaning on his mother’s lap. 

Yuta helped carry him up to their hotel room, even kissing his forehead before muttering a ‘Goodnight’. "What time should I pick you up tomorrow?" He asked, standing in the doorway of their hotel room. 

"Do you want to stay the night instead?" The guy had to stare at her in surprise. "We need to be in the hospital early tomorrow, it's a hassle…" 

"Will that be alright?" He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. "Me staying the night?" 

Y/N nodded nonchalantly that made him nod. "I'll fix the other room for you." But he insisted that he'll just sleep on the sofa. "Are you sure?" Yuta nodded, smiling at her. "Do you want to drink, though?" She disappeared to the kitchen that made him smile. Funny, she would ask that. 

Yuta followed him to the small kitchen as she bent down to look for something on the minifridge. The moment she stood up, with two soda cans on hand, he hugged her from behind. "Please don't get drunk." His hand held her tighter. "You get wild when you're drunk." He chuckled at the memory, "And you get drunk with just a can of alcohol." 

She turned around in surprise. "You still remember that night?" 

He smirked, his hands held her waist. "You smelled like flowers." Unconsciously, she sniffed herself which made him laugh. His hand went to her hip, tracing a certain spot. "And you have a small butterfly tattoo here." A gasp escaped her lips. "You can't really remember anything?" 

"I was so hammered that night, okay?" She revolted that made him laugh. Of course, she is. Her hands went to his shoulder, sliding down his torso. "Yuta…" 

"You're not drunk, are you?" 

She shook her head with a smile. "I like you, too." Y/N stared at him. "You're always there for me and Haru and it hurts me before knowing that you're only here for Haru. I thought you'll be gone when Haru leaves me as well." 

His same dilemma. Yuta leaned in, wrapping her in his arms. "No one is leaving you, Y/N. I'll be here for you, Haru as well." He held her cheeks, raising her head to look at him. "We will save Haru and the three of us will be a happy family together." The tears on the corner of her eyes were back, his thumb rubbing her heated cheeks. "Can I, Y/N?" 

She nodded before he leaned closer to her, placing his lips to hers. A soft kiss. She moaned when he sucked her bottom lip, igniting some fire inside him. He held her by the waist, wrapping her legs around his hip. "I'll make you remember that night." 

------

Every day is the same routine, going to the hospital in the morning and spending afternoons with Y/N and Haru like they're on a trip. The younger had shown positive results with the treatment that they returned to Korea after the second month. Mika visited the hospital once, giving Haru different stuffed toy dinosaurs much to his delight. Even Yuta's parents visited him and he had fun spending the whole day with his obaasan and oujisan. Jiwon is a frequent visitor, even teaching him the lessons he missed for school. 

Haru's hair got thinner and he'd been vomiting a lot, a side effect of the chemotherapy. They're only thankful that he's getting more cheerful. A premonition that makes Yuta nervous. 

In the third month, there was incessant vomiting not only for Haru but also for Y/N. Yuta felt bad that she got pregnant first before asking her for marriage. For a while, Y/N thought that he planned all of this. But she cannot complain or revolt, this is their last resort in saving Haru.

The younger seemed excited at the thought of a younger person growing inside his mom’s stomach, even noting that he’ll be a great big brother for the baby. “Do you think I can see the baby, eomma?” It must be the hormones, Y/N thought, but she only answered him with a loud cry. “If ever I didn’t, can you just tell the baby that I love him or her?” Haru just smiled wiping her tears and she was annoyed at the fact that he’s slowly becoming more like Yuta. 

In the seventh month of her pregnancy, Y/N was not allowed to see Haru nearby because of the radiation that might hurt the baby. She watched behind the glassed window how he got weak with the medicines injected into his body. Haru kept crying every night, clinging into Yuta’s arms. Yet she can’t do anything to ease her son’s pain. She can’t even hold him in her arms. 

And the stress was too much that she started bleeding early. 

Yuta was panicking, his wife is in labor but he cannot leave Haru. “Dad, what am I going to do?” He asked for the umpteenth time and the older just stared at Doyoung who was seated on the bench opposite Yuta. “Doyoung, you’re a doctor. Do something.” 

The guy sighed. “We wait, Yuta. Your mom is inside with her.”  

“Appa.” They heard a small voice call from the hallways. Haru was walking to where his dad is, followed by Jiwon and her mom who volunteered to look for him. “I want to see the baby.” Yuta smiled, tapping the chair beside him to let Haru sit. “Can we name the baby Hana?” The older nodded, smiling while he gently caressed his already hairless head. He tightly held his hand, thumb rubbing the back of his hand. 

Yuta stood up twice before they heard a baby’s voice coming from inside. His first instinct was to look at Haru’s face. And for the first time since he had been on his medication, he saw the hope in his face. “You’re going to see your sister, Haru.” His grandfather claimed, making the younger smile widely. There was still rustling inside, the sound of a machine consistently beeping. That’s a good sign, he thought. 

The doors of the emergency room opened followed by an incubator dragged outside by a nurse. “Haru, come and see Hana.” Yuta called. Haru hurried to where she is, Yuta carrying him as he touched the glass where his sister is. “She looks like your mom.” 

“She’s so small,” Haru claimed. “Am I like that when I was a baby?” 

“Only your mom knows.” 

The nurse apologized that she had to bring the baby to the neonatal care unit and Yuta agreed, thanking her. Another doctor went out of the room and called Doyoung, she handed him a small tube that had something inside. The doctor looked at Yuta and he nodded before kneeling in front of Haru. “Son, Doctor Doyoung is going to treat you now.” He whispered, holding his cheek. “I want you to be strong for a while.” 

Haru nodded, a tear falling on his cheeks. “I wish I could have hugged eomma or hold Hana.” Yuta wrapped him in his arms. “Please hug them for me, appa.” 

“You will hug them both,” Yuta whispered, looking up to stop a tear from falling down. “We’ll be waiting for you here, Haru.” He tried to regulate his voice to prevent a choke from his throat. “Just listen well to Dr. Kim.” 

The younger nodded, holding Yuta’s cheeks. “I love you, appa. Please tell eomma and Hana that.” Yuta closed his eyes, breathing hard. A premonition. “You can tell them that.” Haru grinned before taking Doyoung’s hand. 

When they disappeared to the hallway, Yuta’s tears fell on their own. He can’t do anything but to wait. Wait for Haru. Wait for Y/N. Wait for Hana. He’s already tired but he’s the only one left to wait for them. When he felt his dad tapped his back, he only cried some more. They were never close, never showed emotion before. “You’re doing well, my son.” He needed to have strength like his dad. For Haru. For Y/N. For Hana. 

He hastily wiped his tears as they attract attention. He breathed hard, calming himself when he heard a loud beep sound created by a machine. 

------- 

“You’re late!” Mika shouted while running to the steps to greet Yuta. “Do you really have to be late today?” The guy gave a heavy sigh before smoothing out his black coat. Another sigh that made the girl in front of him, smile. “Yuta-kun, I’m so proud of you. You’ve been through too much. I wish you can get the happiness you truly deserve.” 

Yuta smiled as the church doors opened. His and her friends were seated on their chairs, beautiful white flowers adore the area. “I am happy, Mika. Everything was all worth it.” He gave her a warm hug. “Thank you, Mika. For everything.” 

The girl shook her head and made her exit as his mom wrapped her arm on his, “I can’t believe you’re getting married again.” Yuta chuckled at that. “She’s such a darling. Please don’t hurt her Yuta.” 

“Of course, I won’t.” 

The song played and as he watched the people they care about walking to the aisle of the church, Yuta can’t help but think back at everything. They should have done this way before and maybe they can be saved from the tears and the worry. But seeing Haru carrying Hana, he didn’t wish everything was different. All the tears made him stronger, made Haru stronger. Now, he just wanted to be a better father for the two of them. 

A smile escaped his lips when Y/N can be seen, next to his father. The tears made Y/N stronger. He remembered how it scared him, losing her. He felt his heart fell on his feet when his mom called him inside the emergency room saying that Y/N isn’t responsive. He repeatedly called her name, whispering that Haru already named their daughter and that he wants to hug her. When she gasped for breath then opened her eyes, he felt the heavy thumping of his heart. “You almost killed me.” But she was only chuckling while tears fall from her eyes.  

The moment he knew he wanted to be with her. Whatever it takes. 

“You can still run,” Y/N whispered when he held her hand. “I won’t stop you.” Yet Yuta just smiled, pulling her closer to him. “Yuta, do you wish we could have met differently?” He only smiled. Weird, he was thinking of that earlier. They really are meant to be. 

He lightly stared at Haru who was quietly watching them. His hair is growing back and he looks healthier for the first time since he met him. Although he still has medicines to take, his life isn’t in danger now. His mom’s dream of him playing with kids his age is slowly coming true. All thanks to Hana.

Hana, on the other hand, was sleeping on his mother’s shoulder. His little miracle. Up until now, he was surprised at how she managed to survive the two months of being in neonatal care. When she was cleared, it was Haru who first held her and they had been inseparable ever since. 

Thinking back, they might be a family of warriors. How are the three of them so strong? 

Yuta smiled, shaking his head before bopping her nose. “I won’t wish for anything different, Y/N. We’re perfect.”   

[sapiowoman28]

I can, I can't : Part 1 of 3

Pairing: Jaemin x female reader

Gener: best friends to lovers au, smut, fluff

Warning: mentions of sex, masturbation (Female)

Summary: Jaemin and Y/N are part of a group of best friends. One day, things change.....

They called themselves the dropouts. Brought up in good Catholic families, active within the Church community as kids, Catholic school education... the works. They then grew up and stopped going.

It wasn't some group thing were everyone agreed to stop going altogether at the same time. It was more like, one by one, they stopped going.

Jeno was the first to stop, at 15, after his parents got divorced. He became angry and withdrawn. By 16 he was mixing with the wrong crowd - think underaged drinking, partying, It was only after a close brush with the law that he - literally and figuratively - sobered up and decided to focus on healthier pursuits like education and sports. Thankfully too, the old Jeno that everyone knew and love came back.

Then were was Renjun. Renjun was always the one who wasn't really into religion anyway. He was more apt to believing in aliens and ghosts. His mother kept him going for as long as she could. By 18 he was out.

Haechan, as he got older, became a sporadic goer. After moving out on his own to live with the guys and Y/N in an apartment closer to campus, he stopped too.

Y/N? The older she grew, the more she learnt about the importance of gender equality. The more she embraced feminism, the more she found some church teachings hard to swallow.

All was left, of course, was Jaemin. Now Jaemin, he was still a "good boy", faithfully going to Church every Sunday. It wasn't that he was extremely religious. It was more that he had gone to Church every single week all his life. To not go one week felt odd and different.

The good thing was, nobody made fun of him or tried to stop him from going. Jeno even woke him up on Sunday mornings before he went for his 10km runs just so Jaemin would get to mass on time. (Mass is what Catholics call a church service.)

Y/N enjoyed hanging out with her friends. She was like one of the boys. It had always been like that since they were young. Everyone who knew Y/N knew she was not to be messed with. Not only was she capable of kicking anyone's balls, she also had four bros who would come after their ass too. In fact, guys who were interested in dating her would often try to get in good standing with the four guys so life would be easier for them. So it was hardly surprising that Y/N had never had her heart broken.

The problem was, Y/N was the one breaking hearts. Commitment wasn't her strongest suit, and more often than not she'd break off with whoever she was seeing with very trivial reasons, First she was dating Xiaojun. Then 7 months later she broke it off with him because apparently he "sucked at making out". The truth was, Xiaojun was good enough in bed but Y/N wanted to date the more exciting Yang Yang after meeting him at a frat party her gal friends dragged her to and making out with him. So Yang Yang it was. For a while she was happy. But then 10 months passed and Yang Yang was history. Now it seemed, was some guy called Lucas.

"Now, before you guys misunderstand, Lucas is not my boyfriend." Y/N declared over a pizza with Jaemin one Saturday night. "He's just... a friend..."

Jaemin raised his eyebrow. "You mean a friend with benefits? Cos based on what we have to hear every single Friday night, none of us think you guys are friends. Speaking of which.... Jeno wants me to talk to you."

"Let me guess, you lost rock paper scissors. Again. And that's why you're the one speaking to me."

"Well, we have house rules to follow..." Jaemin started, looking somewhat uncomfortable.

"Jeno and his stupid house rules." Y/N sighed. "What now? I can't bring Lucas home?"

"It's getting kind of weird for all of us...."

"You guys bring girls home all the time!" Y/N protested.

"I don't." Jaemin said. It was true.

"Jeno does. Haechan does. Even Renjun! Remember that weird Yoga chick he was seeing?"

"But they're not loud. Lucas sounds like he has a loudhailer in his throat and it's weird hearing him......we end up having to use headphones."

"I've tried asking him to tone it down. But he gets too excited when I blow him..." Y/N grinned as Jaemin covered his ears with his hands, not wanting to hear the details.

"Look, Jeno says he appreciates that YOU have gotten less loud since that time you were dating Yang Yang. But Lucas he's just.... too expressive. Can't you do it at his house or something? It's not the moaning as much as the dirty talk, you know?" Jaemin's voice was getting tinier and tinier.

"If Jeno has a problem, why can't he tell me himself?" I know it's not Haechan or Renjun who are complaining. Haechan's always gaming with his stupid headphones on and Renjun's always listening to music on his noise cancelling ones."

Jaemin sighed. "Don't put me in a tough spot, Y/N..."

He looked at her with puppy dog eyes.

"Fine. I'll speak to Lucas. But I'm only doing it cos of you, cos you good Catholic boy and virgin and all."

Jaemin rolled his eyes. "For the last time, Y/N, I'm not a virgin!"

Lucas took the news surprisingly well and he was happy to have her hang at his apartment instead. Which turned out to be a better thing, since his apartment was bigger and his housemates were never around. Y/N wondered why she insisted on making out at her apartment to begin with.

"I'm surprised Jeno was the one with the problem.." Lucas said after they had made out and she was snuggling in his arms.

"He has all these rules. The worst part is he makes Jaemin speak to me instead of telling me directly."

"It makes sense. You and Jaemin are close."

"I'm close to all four of them."

"No no no." Lucas said, "Each of them has a different thing with you."

"Explain, Mr Wong." she said, looking up at him.

"I think Jeno knows both of you have strong characters so he has Jaemin speak to you instead when there's an issue so you guys won't argue. He prefers to keep things light, so the most you're gonna get is Jeno making fun of you for having a thing for foriegn men."

"What about Haechan?"

"Haechan's your gaming bestie. You talk about gaming, and game together. But he'd kick the ass of anyone who gives you trouble."

"I think I'm least close to Renjun."

"I don't think it's that. It's more Renjun is kind of in his own world. He's like that with everyone. But he feels close to you guys."

Y/N was impressed.

"What about Jaemin?"

"Jaemin's like your total opposite. But you guys get each other. I like him. He's a good guy."

"Yeah he's a virgin." Y/N joked.

"He's a good looking guy! Heck, if I was a chick I'd go after him man!" Lucas said, his eyes expressive as always.

"Well, he's a good guy. I've never seen him bring a girl home."

"Come on man, when it comes to hormones, even good guys turn bad."

Lucas was driving her home when she got a call from Jaemin.

"Wassup?"

"Are you alone?" Jaemin asked. He sounded strange. "I need help."

"Are you ok?" Y/N asked. "I'm with Lucas. Where are you?"

"Oh. I'll call someone else..."

"Don't be an idiot, Jaemin. Where are you?"

"Hospital." he said. "Can you come? Just don't tell anyone anything. Not even Lucas."

She found him in a bad state at the hospital. Sitting in a daze, blood stains on his crumpled shirt. Y/N had never seen Jaemin look so small.

"Hey" she half whispered. He looked up.

"I can go now. I got an x-ray done. My nose is not broken. And it's finally stopped bleeding." he said. "I already collected my medicines. Mostly painkillers."

"What happened?" she asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." he said.

"Let's get home and get you out of these bloody clothes. And then you can tell me after you've had a good night's sleep."

"Can i sleep in your room tonight?" he asked. It was an unsual request. "I'm feeling quite shaken."

"Yeah. Sure. Let's do that."

It was 2am and he still couldn't sleep. She could feel him toss and turn next to her.

"Jae."

"Sorry."

"No, I can't sleep either."

He sat up.

"I need to get my ID card back. Can you follow me tomorrow?"

"Your ID card?"

"I was fooling around with a first year chick in her house. Her parents came back and caught us. Her dad took my ID away, said he was going to lodge a police report against me for tresspassing his house and taking advantage of his daughter. Well, that's after he beat me up."

Y/N sat up. This was interesting, she thought.

"She's 18?" she asked.

"Yeah."

"18 is legal you dumbass." she slapped her forehead.

"I thought it was 21.."

Y/N groaned. "I can't believe you're so stupid."

"But the trespassing thing?"

"They don't have a case Jae. I'm sure you can prove you were invited there. Even if she lies and said she didn't invite you. They can't prove it beyond a reasonable doubt."

"I'm so glad you're studying law."

"And Jaemin?"

"What?"

"It's illegal for him to detain your ID. YOU can report him."

"Oh. I didn't know that."

"Can you go sleep now that you know you're not actually in trouble?"

"Yes. Thanks Y/N." he said, turning to face the opposite side.

But Y/N couldn't sleep. Her mind was running a million miles a minute. Jaemin made out with someone. What was he like when making out? Was he gentle? Was he sweet like he always was to everyone? Was he a dom or sub? What did he do with the girl? Did he have fun?

Her own thoughts made her sick. Feeling a stir in her stomach made her sick. This was her best friend she was thinking of. She had to stop. Maybe she needed a shower.

Taking a towel with her to the bathroom, she shut the door, stripping quickly and getting under the hot jets of water. Damn it, Y/N, she scolded herself. Not Na Jaemin. What happened to your thing for Chinese guys?

She soaped herself trying to escape the mental picture of Jaemin, between the girl's thighs, lapping on her clit mercilessly, his eyes twinkling like they would whenever Jeno or Haechan said something witty. Suddenly, she was thinking of him between her legs, lapping at her core.

She brought her fingers to her clit, rubbing them from side to side. She leaned against the bathroom wall, moving more aggressively. She was wet. Biting her lip she pushed two fingers into her pussy, thrusting them in and out, the sound of the shower masking the wet noises as her fingers moved.

The muscles in her stomach were tightening. She could no longer hold back, thinking of Jaemin thrusting into her, looking at her with an intense gaze. She wanted him bad.

Slowly she came undone, as she moaned into her hands while cumming.

Suddenly, someone was knocking aggressively on the bathroom door. Y/N froze.

"I need to pee!" Haechan shrieked. "Hurry! I need to go back to my game!"

"Give me 2 minutes I'll be done." Y/N said, drying herself with her towel and getting dressed, mind still dazed from thinking about Jaemin. She knew their friendship was never going to be the same ever again.

She was just wondering how easy or hard it was going to be, to get Jaemin to join her on the other side.

[byulsgrease]

always

unspecified member x reader, angst but not heavy, ~600 words, song was listened to 9 times (approx 26 minutes)

↳ byulsgrease.mp3 - an exercise in challenging my internalized perfectionism by testing my ability to loop a song and write something before I'm absolutely sick of it

You roll over in bed, absentmindedly slapping your palm at the surface of the covers beside your body, hoping that you’ll hit something, or someone. Wishful thinking. Doesn’t stop you from trying every time, though.

It’s like this every time she sleeps over, whether it’s because she got too drunk and your apartment is close to the club she frequents, because she can’t sleep and claims to need a living, breathing being to help her feel less alone, or whatever astronomical excuse she can think of to come over. You’ve got to give her credit, some of them have been rather creative.

You’re not really sure what to call the arrangement. Maybe if you weren’t living the bachelor life, you’d have a sofa that she could crash on. You’d make her sleep on the floor if you owned more than one set of bedsheets. But none of these things are in your possession, so she ends up sharing your bed. Maybe you should ask her to buy herself a sleeping bag, at least.

Maybe the handholding and cuddling was supposed to be a one-time thing, particularly because the first time she asked to stay over was because she had partied too hard and was beyond gone. The feat of showing up at your door at all was some kind of marvel. You gave her water and a place to sleep, and she was gone before you woke up. This happened a couple more times, but it was an interesting turn of events when she called you up completely sober at 2am, asking if she could come over. Again, you let her. Not like you had anything better to do.

Last night was different.

“Are you asleep?” you whispered inquisitively. A guttural noise escaped her. So, barely. Your back lay pressed to her chest with her arm lazily draped over your front to keep you close. Not that the bed was of the size for either of you to go very far. Your ears grew warm when you asked rather meekly— “Why do you keep coming here?”

“Do you want me gone?” A fair amount more awake now.

“No, no,” you shot back. “I’m just wondering. You’re always welcome here, but I’m gonna need a little more explanation than the random ‘I can’t sleep’.”

“Don’t pretend that you don’t like it,” she said with an air of playfulness, squeezing you ever-so-slightly tighter.

“You’re swerving the question.”

She let out a sigh, warm breath whistling past your ear.

“We can talk about it in the morning, okay? You should get to sleep. Should be faster now that I’m here, anyway.” You couldn’t argue with that, especially the LED numbers on your alarm clock counting up to your impending morning alarm shining through the darkness.

As per usual, you don’t remember falling asleep. Nor do you remember her leaving. You never do. You tell yourself every time that you’ll catch her on the way out one of these days, but she somehow leaves you waking up in an empty bed.

A couple months of radio silence passes. You’re not sure if it was the way that you asked, or what. It wasn’t even an unreasonable question to ask. But she left you with no closure anyway. It’s not like she was a main character in your life, or that you were particularly close, so you don’t miss her much, at least not viscerally. But you’ll forever be left wondering if you were naive for assuming that it would always be this way, that she’d keep coming back.

Until your phone goes off— you know it’s her because you customized the vibration pattern after the second time.

Can we start over?

Did you ever even start?

[pillage-and-lute]

An Ever Fixed Mark (Part 3)

 Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 4 Part 5 Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,

Read it on Ao3 HERE

It’s back! The boys get hitched, and Geralt gets nervous. 

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Three days.

Three entire, fucking awful days until the wedding.

Geralt had paced in their quarters, he had paced in the halls, he had paced in the courtyard (after getting lost and pacing until a footman found him). He had taken Roach out for a ride and paced her.

It wasn’t just cold feet, pre wedding jitters, or the usual sort.

He was afraid for Jaskier, afraid for himself, and afraid of letting down witchers. If Jaskier became unhappy in their marriage the contract was void. Jaskier didn’t seem happy in Lettenhove but it was comfortable and he had plenty to eat and a warm place to sleep. Nice clothes. Like minded, well educated people. The list just kept getting longer.

Geralt had to keep him happy.

More than that, he’d have to keep him safe. The path was dangerous, no place for an Earl’s son who’d only known luxury. He understood Jaskier had been at Oxenfurt, so he must know something of the world, but only of the academic world. He’d studied literature and music, what good was that for a witcher’s companion?

He liked Jaskier. It would be hard not to. But would he like him on the Path, as a constant companion? Another person to look after, another mouth to feed? He liked Jaskier, but he also barely knew him. He knew he was young, thankfully unafraid of witchers, but could he fight? Would he do as he was told? 

And Geralt would be around him all the time. 

Geralt didn’t like being around anyone All. The. Time.

He needed space even at Kaer Morhen, sometimes disappearing into his room all day, or if the weather allowed just taking Roach into the forest for a day.

Eskel was beating the stiffness from Geralt’s muscles again, the evening of the day before the wedding, and said quietly, in between vertebrae numbing digs,

“You ever think all that worrying will be a self fulfilling prophesy?”

“Hmmm...OW Eskel the fuck!”

“Listen, first of all I didn’t even do it that hard. Geralt, you’re my brother, and I know you better than anyone. You get all trapped in your head, and you worry, ‘cause you don’t understand people. You think you’re different.”

“I am different.”

“Don’t interrupt me,” Eskel said, popping Geralt’s back with well placed pressure. “You’re different, okay. I don’t know what all they did to you with that extra trial. I don’t think Vesemir knows, really, no one does. But I remember you before, alright? You were like this before. It isn’t a bad thing, some people just don’t always get other people. Jaskier does though. Allow him to understand you, don’t try and understand him all at once.”

Eskel finished the massage with a truly bone-wrenching press. “I think you could be really good for each other, just don’t...don’t go and mess it up just because you think you shouldn’t have something good.”

“Hmmm.”

Geralt woke up on his wedding day feeling hungover, except he hadn’t been drunk last night. 

Eskel didn’t look well rested either, although he had a sort of stupid grin on his face. Mabel had been by a few times in the past days, and Eskel at least was having the time of his life. 

Judging by the scratch marks she’d left all down his back, she’d been having the time of hers as well. 

Geralt sunk into the bath, which had been tepid by the time the tub had been lugged up the stairs and servants had filled it with water. Igni took care of that, and Geralt sat and steamed behind a little standing wooden panel that the servants had also brought. 

The little modesty panel room divider had been a source of some amusement for the witchers. Body shyness was bred out of witchers before it had time to form. Lambert did comment, however, that it would be nice not to have to watch Geralt sit and cook in the bath like a boiling potato.

Rosewater had been put in the bath, not much, and it wasn’t a strong scent, but to witcher senses it was heady. 

Geralt scrubbed his hair. Then Vesemir scoffed and told him he was too gentle. Vesemir practically beat his scalp into submission.

Geralt had a gold doublet and he felt like a ponce. Lambert insisted that he couldn’t wear black to a wedding, and certainly not his own. Geralt wanted to protest, but he couldn’t, not really. None of the wolves were wearing black, and if the occasion had pried black from Vesemir, then it really was time for colors.

Lambert was in a mahogany brown-red, and looked almost dashing, if a little rougish. Eskel was in dark green, he looked good, too. If Maybel was serving at the wedding there would almost certainly be some appreciative remarks. Vesemir was wearing brown. If he couldn’t wear black, Geralt supposed a neutral color was the next best thing. 

It was still inexplicably a party brown. There was some quilting on the sleeves of the doublet done in a coppery thread and, all in all, Vesemir looked as festive as Geralt had ever seen him.

Geralt didn’t look festive, he looked like Midas had touched him, then, when apparently that wasn’t enough, covered him in glitter and embroidery. The wedding was to take place outside, and Geralt wondered if he wouldn’t blind people. Still, looking at the School of the Wolf, he thought he at least had a rather handsome entourage. 

His face was scrubbed and, short of the miraculous disappearance of a couple scars, he was as handsome as he could get. Lambert had pulled his hair back with a couple braids. Also, in Geralt’s opinion, poncy, but he’d seen a few of the other nobles in a similar style so perhaps he’d best leave it to fashion and not put up a fuss. 

They were lead by a footman, more a foot boy, with a face full of freckles and unfortunate ears, to a garden. It was probably a bower but Geralt didn’t know about horticulture. Trees had been planted and then twisted by someone dreadfully patient into a sort of cathedral of arching limbs. Spring meant flowers, and they were everywhere. The trees were the flowering sort, almond trees with fragrant blossoms. Delicate petals had fallen to the ground in a sort of pale carpet. Every time a breeze blew a few more drifted to the ground like spring snowflakes. Smaller, brighter flowers abounded near the edges of the manmade clearing. Their perfume was giving Geralt a headache, but he couldn’t blame the knee-knocking terror on them. 

Little stone benches had been arranged in rows, but were empty as of yet.  Vesemir sat in the position traditionally meant for the father of the groom. Eskel was best man, with Lambert beside him as the other groomsman. 

And they waited in silence, blossoms falling around them as Geralt’s knees turned progressively into liquid.

He felt sick.

He might throw up.

The image of stuffing his head into one of the bushes of pink and yellow roses and puking lurked threateningly in his head.

Lambert smirked at him unsympathetically. 

Ladies swept in, dusting petals from benches and hanging little baskets of flowers off the back of the benches. Geralt absently wondered what for, all the while fighting his roiling stomach.

He’d been too nervous to eat this morning, and now he was worried it would growl during the service, but if he ate now he’d vomit for sure.

His flower question was answered when a broomstick-thin lass came up to him with a basket in hand and nervously proffered a little twist of flowers. He took it, baffled. One of the funny pink and yellow roses, something purple, a bit of greenery, and a couple almond blossoms. He glanced at Vesemir, questioningly, who pointedly stuck the flowers in a decorative slit in his doublet. 

Next to him, another girl nudged the skinny, nervous one out of the way. He recognized Mabel. She gave him a cheerful grin.

“Switched places with Leeann for the day,” she whispered to Eskel. One of her hands slid slowly up his chest, wrapped in green silk. “And I’m so glad I did.” She stuck the boutonniere into the collar, his doublet lacking anywhere else, and sent him a wink that, in more conservative countries, got women jailed.

Past Eskel, the nervous girl was holding flowers out to Lambert. They shivered in her grip. Instead of the vicious grin Geralt expected, Lambert gave her a polite smile and an attempt at a courtly bow. She scuttled off and he tucked the flowers into a small pocket on his doublet, looking at his brothers and shrugging.

Geralt looked at the twist of flowers in his hand. They seemed very easily bruised and broken in his fingers. He didn’t have anywhere to tuck them. 

Eskel came to the rescue.

“There’s a little slit here somewhere,” he said, poking at the embroidery on Geralt’s chest. He found it. “Ah, here we go, just stick those in there.” Geralt did. “You almost look presentable.” Eskel said, not totally unkindly. 

Then he must have seen the raw terror in Geralt’s eyes. 

“It’ll be fine, brother,” Eskel said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You look good.”

Eskel stepped back into place, sending a wink towards Mabel, lined up near the back with the other housemaids. 

Guests slowly filtered in. 

There were more jewels and crystals about the throats and in the hair of the ladies than Geralt had ever seen before. Geralt felt a little better about his golden doublet, because there wasn’t an outfit on the benches that didn’t glitter. 

Then a couple minstrels struck up a sweet, simple tune, and two little children entered. A girl in an almond blossom crown was scattering pink petals on the already well-petaled floor. She was so sweetly serious about her duty, solemnly distributing the petals, that coos and chuckles filtered through the crowd. The little boy was holding a cushion with wedding bands. 

Geralt cursed mentally and began to panic. He’d left Jaskier’s mother’s ring in their rooms. It was too late to get it. He felt even more sick. Vesemir gave him a worried look and Geralt took a deep breath. They could always swap the ring out later.

A young woman in a pale blue dress entered, holding a small bouquet of the white almond blossoms. She was followed by another young woman, in the same dress and a very similar bouquet. Bridesmaids, Geralt supposed. One of them reached down and took the hand of the little flower girl. The ring bearer, slightly older, stood without a hand, but fidgeted. Geralt could sympathize.

The music changed.

A slow processional began and a hush fell on the crowd.

 The Earl stepped forward, Jaskier on his arm. The earl wore grey, like a dove, but Jaskier.

Jaskier.

Well.

Wow.

He wore pearly white, with a crown of almond blossoms and roses, and every inch of his doublet was covered in tiny, delicate seed pearls. In this beautiful bower, with delicate flowers all around, he looked like the spirit of this place. Like a dryad made of almond blossoms and sunlight. 

He was beautiful. Truly breathtaking.

He wore no boutonniere, and his hands were free of bouquets. Geralt’s stomach chose this exact moment to remind him that he really, really wanted to throw up right now. His head pounded and his knees felt weak.

He vaguely registered the slow procession being brought up at the rear by a priest in white. Next to Jaskier, the white looked dull and lifeless as the priest took his place.

“Who gives this man,” the priest croaked.

“I do,” the earl said, linking Jaskier’s hand with Geralt’s and sitting in the mirror of Vesemir’s position. 

Geralt looked at that hand, so delicate in his giant paw. He thought of the flowers tucked into his doublet, so easily crushed. 

The priest was saying something about eternity, but Geralt’s blood was rushing in his ears. Jaskier was looking at him too, but Geralt’s gaze was locked on their hands. 

Vows were said, and Geralt was lucky they were short. 

“From this cup we shall drink,” Geralt repeated, taking a sip of wine from a goblet that appeared out of nowhere and handing it to Jaskier. 

“And we shall share this wine as we share our lives,” Jaskier said, taking a sip.

“All the days of our lives,” the priest said, taking the goblet.

“All the days of our lives,” Geralt and Jaskier said in unison. Their eyes met for the first time, and Geralt’s stomach protested. 

“Have you the rings” intoned the priest. The little ringbearer stepped up. Jaskier took a wedding band and thanked the boy with a smile. Eskel nudged Geralt and palmed a ring into his hand, Jaskier’s mother’s ring. 

The ringbearer took this well in his stride and went back to his place. 

Jaskier smiled up at Geralt, then carefully slipped the little golden band onto Geralt’s finger. Geralt gulped, Jaskier’s smile slipped a little, looking concerned, and Geralt wondered what he’d seen in his face. 

His big fingers fumbled a little with the delicate ring, but he slid it into place on Jaskier’s finger. It fit as exactly as it had in the little study, which seemed very long ago now.

“You may kiss the groom,” said the priest. 

It felt like a badger was gnawing Geralt’s intestines. He slid his hands hesitantly around Jaskier’s waist. The young man’s arms wrapped around his neck. It would have been nice if Geralt wasn’t so nauseous. 

Geralt gave Jaskier a peck. 

He pulled back and caught Jaskier’s disappointed look, but then they were being ushered back down the aisle and into the hall and there were congratulations. Bells were ringing, people were throwing rice, Geralt’s head was pounding like his brain was about to leak from his ears. 

Out on the steps of the chateau they were handed plates, most of the wedding party were, and they smashed them on the ground, to the misery of Geralt’s poor head. 

Jaskier seemed to be having a wonderful time, laughing as the porcelain smashed and shining even brighter in the bright sunlight on the steps. Geralt longed for the dimmer lighting of the glade. Jaskier kept looking over at Geralt, and the laughter in his eyes kept dimming. 

It made Geralt’s ribs ache to see. He knew he must be scowling, but the thought that Jaskier’s day was being ruined by him was awful. He wasn’t an ideal husband but surely he wasn’t that bad. It definitely didn’t bode well.

The tide of people bore them into the great hall, and they were sat at the front table with the earl and Amaria. Vesemir and Geralt’s brothers were at another table and Geralt felt very alone. 

“Is everything alright?” Jaskier asked, leaning in close to whisper in Geralt’s ear.

“Headache,” Geralt grunted. 

“I’m sorry,” Jaskier said, rubbing his thumb over Geralt’s wrist. On his finger, the opal caught the light. The young man’s shoulders slumped a little. “I’m sorry too that you’ve been roped into all this,” he released Geralt’s wrist. “I know this isn’t your choice.”

It wasn’t Geralt’s choice of course. But if he was getting married, Jaskier didn’t seem like a bad husband. There was something in Jaskier’s eyes, though, a sort of wistful distance. It occurred to Geralt that Jaskier was in this arranged marriage too. This wasn’t his choice. From what he’d said before, the viscount had probably grown up believing he’d be able to marry for love, or at least someone he liked and was of suitable social status.

Geralt wondered if the young man wasn’t looking around at his own wedding, wishing love were the base of it after all. True love, a smile during the procession, giggles during the ceremony and little jokes and kisses during the reception, instead of a witcher with a headache. 

Geralt realised that he didn’t know if Jaskier liked men at all. Perhaps he was looking around wishing some pretty noble lady was wearing white instead of he. 

Clanging started up as first one, then many people tapped spoons to glasses. 

“They want us to kiss,” Geralt said numbly.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, turning towards Geralt and leaning in. At least he didn’t seem to horribly mind kissing men. Geralt rested a hand, the one towards the audience, on Jaskier’s face, hiding the view of their lips. Then he leaned in and kissed the air less than a centimeter from Jaskier’s mouth. 

It satisfied the crowd, but Jaskier looked unhappy as he pulled back. Had he minded the play acting? Did he just want Geralt to let them ring the glasses indefinitely? Had Geralt crossed a line, even pretending to kiss him? Jaskier stared at his lap.

Geralt stared at his own.

They both picked at dinner. Sounds swirled in Geralt’s ears.

“Geralt.”

He wouldn’t have heard it but for his enhanced hearing. To anyone else it was just another murmur of conversation, the susurrus of the ballroom. Geralt looked up, to meet eyes with Eskel. 

“Geralt,” Eskel said. “Don’t mess it up, you deserve nice things.”

Geralt nodded, and Eskel broke their locked gazes. 

Some of the headache had subsided by now, and it was too late to be nervous. He took a big swig of the wine. 

Jaskier may not have wanted to marry him, may be dreaming of a different wedding day, but Geralt could still make it memorable. He took another swig of the wine and wished it were stronger.

Dancing hadn’t been planned, but there was music and a clear space between tables. Geralt stood and took Jaskier’s hand, giving him an only slightly wan smile.

Jaskier looked baffled, but followed Geralt to the impromptu dancefloor. The minstrels picked up on what was going on, and a rather cheerful waltz was struck up. 

Geralt wasn’t much of a dancer, but he’d been taught the basics long ago, and Jaskier was an excellent partner. His skill made up for Geralt’s more clumsy footwork. Geralt slid his hands to Jaskier’s hips, keeping his grip firmly appropriate, then lifted Jaskier into a twirl he’d seen once before at a ball he’d been forced to attend.

In that case, the lady’s skirt had swirled and swished most attractively. Here, Jaskier’s slightly wilted flower crown came off, but Jaskier was laughing, head back, the sound like sunshine. The crowed oohed appreciatively at the display and Geralt guided his new husband down to the ground again.

Jaskier’s fancy footwork saved them from stumbling into one another but Geralt wasn’t paying attention. He’d saved Jaskier’s wedding day, or at least he hoped, this portion of it. Out of the corner of his eye he saw motion, Lambert flinging the recovered flower crown to Geralt. He snatched it from the air and placed it firmly back on Jaskier’s head, to applause. 

More couples joined the dancefloor, and soon it was pretty crowded. Jaskier led them back to the head table, giggling a little. 

The earl wasn’t dancing, and Amaria looked wistful, or perhaps just distant, it was so hard to tell with her.

“Look,” Jaskier whispered, pointing surreptitiously at a couple. It was Eskel. Geralt half expected him to be dancing with Mabel, but she was busily serving tables.

Besides, Geralt reflected. Theirs wasn’t a romance, per say, more simple physical appreciation.

No, Eskel had the little flower girl standing on his boots, and was happily spinning them about the dancefloor. He took great, hopping steps that bounced her about, holding her hands gently to keep her grounded. Geralt listened carefully and, in the din of the hall, picked out her delighted, pealing laughter. 

Lambert liked dancing, and Geralt carefully pointed him out to Jaskier, as he showed the shy, thin housemaid how to do one of the fancier spins. 

Jaskier seemed to delight in the people watching, and they chuckled together at a couple, a very large, glamorously dressed woman with her small, slim beau. She whirled him about, sometimes holding him entirely off the ground. 

“He doesn’t seem to mind,” Jaskier said.

Geralt looked at the man’s expression as he was crushed against a frankly enormous bosom. It looked blissful. “No, he certainly doesn’t.”

Vesemir approached their table.

“My congratulations,” he said to Jaskier. He gave a handshake and then pulled the lad into a warm hug. “Welcome to the family,” he whispered. 

“A fine party,” he then said, to the earl and Lady Amaria. “If you do not care for dancing,” this was adressed to the earl. “Would the lady perhaps wish to join me for a dance?”

“By all means,” said the earl, waving Vesemir away. Lady Amaria smiled absently and limply took Vesemir’s hand. 

Geralt knew trading dances was usual, but he was curious to see his mentor dancing. As he watched the couple, he saw Vesemir conversing with her ladyship, whispering into her ear. Even Geralt’s advanced hearing couldn’t catch the words.

After the dance Vesemir returned Amaria to her seat. Perhaps it was a fluke, but she looked more alert. Then the earl tapped his knife to his crystal goblet. 

It had the same effect as a drop of ink falling into clear water.

Silence spread through the hall, twisting between couples and curling around tables until everything was still.

The earl stood. 

Like his son he was a fairly tall man, and in the grey, with his steely eyes and sharp demenour he didn’t just command attention, he demanded it. He got it, too, as men rich enough to have dungeons in their basements tend to.

“I wish to make a toast to my son,” he gave a smile like a stiletto. “And his new husband.

“Before, witchers have been seen as wicked mutants, monsters,” a tiny pause, like the glint of a crossbow bolt. “Butchers.” 

Unease was in the hall, and there was something in the earl’s voice, he was a truly charismatic speaker. And a dick. 

“Long has it been known how they viciously kill, dismember, and pillage.”

“No,” Jaskier whispered under his breath. The words had really set the cat among the pigeons. A few short sentences reminded the crowd of their distrust. The flower girl, still standing next to Eskel, was ushered away from him. Lamberts dance partner was edging away.

“Of course, not anymore,” the earl continued, snakelike. “And it behooves us to make a contract, that so long as they act appropriately, they are to be treated as other migrant workers.”

Damn, Geralt thought. Migrant workers weren’t treated that well, and after this speech...well. 

“It brings me great joy to marry off my only son,” the earl gripped Jaskier’s collar and hauled him to a standing position. “Although many of you know, he is more of a daughter,” here the earl gave an unpleasant chuckle. “And a troublesome one at that, not much of a warrior, too headstrong for knighthood...but today he sacrifices for his people.”

The earl’s voice swelled, an impressive, ringing oration, like a good preacher ringing home the moral point. “He sacrifices much, and it is sad, I am, that I may never see my son again, to submit him to the ravages of a witcher,” a vicious breath, “’s lifestyle.”

Lambert looked murderous, Eskel betrayed. Vesemir’s face was entirely impassive. Granite. Unreadable.

“But we each make sacrifices for the greater good, and I place my faith in our people, as I have always done. My, admittedly troublesome, shameless son has become part of a new...family.” Family was said like it poisoned the tongue. “And my people become my children. I work for your benefit, my beloved subjects, and today, so does my son, Julian. Three cheers for the new couple!”

Three very hesitant cheers were given, then Geralt and Jaskier were very nearly pushed into a room.

“What the fuck?”

“Evil, stupid, bastard,” Jaskier cursed at the same time. 

Jaskier looked furious, but there were tears in his eyes.

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, crossing to the young man and guiding him to sit on the huge, lavish bed. Their marriage bed, Geralt supposed. “Jaskier I don’t understand, what was all that.”

“He couldn’t resist humiliating me, his last chance, I suppose,” Jaskier said, pulling off his boots. “But it’s worse what he did to you lot.”

A tap at the door. Geralt opened it hesitantly, but it was the wolves, and there was fire in Vesemir’s eyes.

“I didn’t know,” Jaskier said, looking up at Vesemir pleadingly. “I swear I didn’t know what he would do.”

“I understand lad,” Vesemir said, but the fire in his eyes didn’t bank. At least it wasn’t directed at Jaskier, who looked positively wilted.

“I don’t,” Geralt said. “He said, some awful stuff, he referenced Blaviken, I get that, but what does it mean.” 

“The common people don’t know the specifics of out contract,” Jaskier said. “Most of them can’t read, and they’ll never see the document in any case. He implied that you’re going to...well, that ravaging bit, he implied that there is a consumation requirement, and the rumors about witchers...”

“Ah,” Geralt said. The rumors about witchers were never kind, what they said about their sexual interests he didn’t know, nor cared to find out, but they wouldn’t be kind. 

“I’m rather well liked by our people,” Jaskier continued, tearfully. “Father’s convinced most of them that I’m simple, but I make a point to be kind and a kind reputation goes around. They’ll hate and fear witchers even more.” He began to cry in earnest, not loudly, but hot, angry tears rolled steadily down flushed cheeks.

“Worse, now,” he said, looking up at the witchers. “He’s some sort of martyr, sacrificing his son to keep the horrible witchers at bay.”

“That’s not even what he said!” Lambert exploded. He’d been fuming this whole time, but his temper was short and he was done.

‘No,” Eskel said. “But that’s what rumor will make of it. He’s going to be seen as some sort of a self-sacrificing hero.”

“He’ll probably use it to raise taxes,” Jaskier said, damply. “And I doubt witcher treatment will get better either.”

“But then, is the contract void?” Geralt asked. 

“Not officially,” Vesemir grumbled. “Improved conditions hold de jure, but not de facto.”

Jaskier shivered. “If the contract is voided everything will only get worse.” The witchers looked at him. “Whatever reason the contract becomes void, Father will say I was mistreated. That’d be enough to convince most of the country to go to war with witchers, all witchers.”

“It wouldn’t take much,” Vesemir mused.

“And I’d be a ruined woman, except that I’m a man.”

“What?” said the witchers.

“I’d have been married,” Jaskier explained, fiddling with the ring. “And no matter the situation, in Lettenhove the woman is almost always blamed for the failure of the marriage. There is no woman in our marriage, but I take on that role, If I’m mistreated, I should have better pleased my husband.”

“That’s idiotic,” Lambert said.

“I’d never be married off again either,” Jaskier continued. “Not only was I ruined, I was ruined by a witcher.”

A deep, heady pause.

“I could probably even be put to death, for failing the contract and shaming my father.”

‘But your people like you,” Geralt said. 

“They won’t if I’m the reason we go to war with the witchers,” Jaskier said. Then, a little more brightly, “At least whatever happens, I wont be an earl. My father may be a rat bastard and a small minded pig and a...” he paused searching for more insults.

“A cunt?” offered Lambert. 

“Yes, thank you, a cunt. But he’s right about one thing, I’d be a very poor earl. No head for politics, I can understand it, I just can’t do it.” He looked up at the witchers apologetically. 

“And now because of me,” he said, “You’ve all been dropped right in it.”

“No worries, lad,” Vesmir said, clapping him on the shoulder in a gesture that made Jaskier’s spine visibly buckle. “We’ve been dropped in it before. As it happens, I may have caused some political trouble for your father all by myself, and it might even be better if we leave a little earlier than planned.”

All the boys looked baffled, but Vesemir looked satisfied.

“Can we leave tomorrow?” Jaskier asked hopefully. “I don’t have much stuff and I want to get out of here.”

The witchers agreed, and then Jaskier and Geralt were left alone with just one bed.

Geralt coughed awkwardly.

“I thought there wasn’t a consummation requirement,” he said.

“There isn’t,” Jaskier said, taking off his flower crown, now quite battered. “There isn’t explicitly, I mean, but there is a hidden fidelity agreement.”

“Hmmm,” Geralt said. He meant a panicky, ‘what!’, but couldn’t say it.

“We both need to be happy in our marriage, if word get’s back to father that either of us is sleeping with someone else, well...”

Shit. Geralt thought. Shit shit shit.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said aloud. 

There were no extra clothes in the chamber, meaning no sleep clothes, so they both undressed to undershirts and smallclothes, then Jaskier snuffed out the candle.

On either side of the large bed, there was plenty of room between them. 

Geralt heard a sniffle. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, feeling awkward.

“I’m fine,” Jaskier said. “It’s silly anyway.”

“Can’t be silly if you’re crying over it.”

“It’s just, this isn’t exactly...” Jaskier trailed off, but Geralt thought he had it.

“Isn’t how you pictured your wedding day?” he asked.

“Exactly,” Jaskier sniffled.

Geralt didn’t know what to do, but he stretched an arm out, above the soft covers, and covered Jaskier with an arm. The young man turned over, so they were facing one another, and inched a little closer.

It wasn’t an embrace, not nearly, but it had a whisper of the same emotion.

Geralt listened to his new husband silently cry himself to sleep on their wedding night, and wished there was some way he could help.

A part of him, long suppressed, was crying too, for the bright and cheerful young man in his arms.

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Wow  5000 words that I basically had to thumbscrew from my brain. 

Taglist! Tags were being weird, let me know if I didn’t add you, forgot to add you, added the wrong person, etc.

@llamasdumpsterfire @stinastar @aziz-the-fangirl @mordoriscalling @bastardofmothman @negativenuggetz @morte-mistrata @ailorian @hayleynzlive @filledepluie @bygodstilliam @sociowithatardisachevyandawand @faery-god @honeysuckletook @theflurtifly @saibowtie @1stbonesfan @frywen-babbles @the-kewlest @innocentbi-stander  @aqueenrisesintheeast @toothhurtyam @marauders-fan-account @ineffable-lasagna @limevodka @rocknrollphanda @seralyra @permanently-exhausted-witcher @aj-itated @watchthewolvesfall @00qtee @the-blondey @birds-of-forgiveness @west-moor @abstractartwithoutpaint @darkonesdagger7437 @onwardsandfourwords @underwaterattribute @whenrainbowsend @goldbvtton @in-love-with-writing002 @flustratedcas @fontegagrilledcheese @little-piece-of-tamlin @somanyfandoms @werevampiwolf

[outerbankspreferences]

I don’t know why you love me - Rafe Cameron

Word Count: 3080

WARNINGS: I went into a bit of detail with his drug problem. If that makes you uncomfortable it’s all italicized so you can skip that part and you shouldn’t be confused.

REQUEST:  Could you write an imagine where Rafe's long time girlfriend says that she sees herself marrying him to Sarah and Rafe overhears. He is super damaged thanks to Ward so he doesn't believe it really and starts to distance himself. A sweet ending please?

MASTERLIST

It was a Sunday afternoon in the Outer banks. Things had calmed down a lot. You were over at the Cameron household helping Sarah make decision on her engagement party. John B had finally popped the question to Sarah with your help. You helped him make sure the ring was the right size and helped narrow down spots. You were so happy for the two of them. You and Sarah had grown close over the years of dating Rafe. She was always there to support you when things got hard with his withdrawal in the beginning. She was your shoulder to cry on when you didn’t want to break in front of him. 

“Rose wants to know who were inviting. Apparently, she wants to have it at the country club.” Sarah sighed slamming her head down on the table. John B had just walked through the door. “Oh god, what did I just walk into.” He asked wondering if he should try and dip out.

 “Your fiancé is trying to narrow down the guest list. Who do you want to invite John B?” You ask him to look through the list you already started. It only had Sarah’s family and extended family. “If you don’t want to have it there Sarah you don’t have to. It’s your engagement party not hers.” You look at her.

 “I know but I don’t know where I want to have it, and we can’t wait to long.” She told you as John B came over rubbing her back trying to be comforting. “If you want to babe, we can look at some places tomorrow. Take your mind off the planning for a bit.” John B suggested trying to be helpful. Honestly, he knew nothing about planning a party and just left it up to you guys. If it were up to him, they would be partying on the beach like old times. “That’s a great idea, did you put the pool cover back on when you were done? I don’t want dad getting pissed again. I listened to him complain about it for like a week.” Sarah asked him. “I did not cover the pool, because your brother is still in there swimming and I didn’t want to drown him this time.” You all laugh. John B and Rafe’s friendship had always been rocky but has gotten better in the last couple of years. He even asked his permission to marry Sarah which you thought was adorable when Rafe told.

 Rafe was no longer swimming he got out of the pool and was putting the cover on it. He had started to collect the things from outside. You guys hung out there all the time because your apartment didn’t have a pool and the beaches were always crowded this time of year. He was walking towards the door when he stopped dead in his tracks when he heard his name.

 “I can’t wait to plan all this stuff with Rafe.” You say more to yourself but both Sarah and John B hearing you. “Did he propose to you?” Sarah almost yells out loud. “Say it louder Sarah, I don’t think they heard you across the street.” John B scolds her. “No, he hasn’t proposed. I wish he would though. After everything we’ve been through, I’m ready for the next part of our life. I just don’t want to freak him out.” You say gushing to Sarah all about the plans you wanted to have with Rafe.

 Rafe couldn’t believe this. He thought he was the luckiest man on earth when you agreed to go out with him. He was still recovering from his addiction, but you were there for him. You knew about his drug addiction, everyone on the island knew about it. You never brought it up to him though. You knew he would tell you when he was ready to let you into that part of him.

 ~FLASHBACK~

It wasn’t until Sarah called you one day saying that Rafe was in the hospital. You’d never driven faster in your life. When you got there, he was thrashing around screaming. You asked Ward what happened, and he told it that he must have gotten a bad cut of drugs. He had been clean for a while and you couldn’t understand what would cause him to relapse, as far as you knew things were going great, you guys just started talk about getting a place together.

 “I don’t understand what would cause him to relapse?” You ask looking at Ward. He shrugged his shoulders, it looked like he could careless about his son. “I don’t know, that’s what addicts to Y/N, they relapse. You should have thought about this before you started dating him. He’s not worth it. You’ve got so much going for you, don’t let him hold you back.” You couldn’t believe what he was saying. Rafe was in danger and he didn’t even care. “He wouldn’t be damaged if it weren’t for you Ward. You broke him. All he ever wanted to do was make you proud. You pushed him to this. What kind of father pushes their son over the edge like this? He needs help because of you. I will not leave him the way you did, because where I come from you don’t give on family like that.” You tell him in front of everybody in the waiting room. You knew it wasn’t your place to say these things, but you were so upset. You tried to walk away when Ward grabbed your arm, “you don’t understand what its like Y/N, on this side of island we have a reputation to uphold.” You look him dead in the eyes. “Clearly you want the wrong reputation.”

 You sat by Rafe’s bed all night holding his hand. The nurses gave him some medications to calm him down and finally took the restraints off. He looked so peaceful sleeping, you wondered what he was dreaming of. The doctor had come in to talk to you about what happened. He explained everything that had happened and that they found traces of LSD in the coke he took. It was a new mix on the island, and if it had been a while since Rafe last used his body probably wasn’t used to it.

 Rafe finally woke up looking around, taking in his surroundings. That’s when he saw you in the chair next to him. You had a blanket covering you with a book in your lap. He couldn’t remember what happened. He only remembered the fight he got in with Ward. He just lost it. Ward was telling him that he wasn’t good enough for you. That Rafe needed to get his life together. He told him that he was holding you back, and you deserved more then a low life drug addict like him. He cursed himself for changing his emergency contact to you when he broke his arm last summer. He moved his hand, and it woke you up. You eyes flutter open adjusting to the brightness of the room. You smiled at him.

 “Hey handsome, how are you feeling?” Even after everything you just watched he was still the most handsome person ever. You were quiet waiting for his answer. “I have a headache, what happened?” He asked you. He was confused and groggy from the medications they gave him. His voice was hoarse from all the screaming. “You had a bad reaction to some drugs you took. They were laced with LSD, Sarah called me, and I got here as soon as I could. It was bad Rafe, you were scream and thrashing around, but it’s okay now. The doctors took care of you they gave you some meds to help counter act the drugs in your system.” You explained to him.

 Just then the doctor comes in. “Mr. Cameron, glad to see your back in order son, how are you feeling?” He looks through Rafe’s chart. “It’s just Rafe, Mr. Cameron is my father, and I feel tired, I have a headache too.” Rafe told the doctor you got up to leave, but he grabbed your hand. “I’m not going far love; I’m just giving you guys some privacy.” You put your hand on top of his. “I know, I just want you to stay please.” He looked at you with scared eyes. You couldn’t imagine how overwhelming this was on him. You sat back down, and the doctor continued talking. “I have looked into some rehabs on the mainland Rafe. You’re still young, you can turn this around. I have a friend who runs one for men your age. I can get you in if you want.” He looked at the both of you. Rafe looked at you as if looking for confirmation. “You need help Rafe, they can give you the help you need. I’ll help you as much as you want but I’m not a professional.” You tell him your honest opinion. You would support him with whatever he chose. “If I go to rehab when do I leave?” He asked the doctor. “I can get you on the ferry in the morning. The sooner the better. You’re normally there eight weeks but you can stay longer if you need.” The doctor looked at the two of you.

 Rafe agreed to go to rehab with your support. It was the longest eight weeks of your lives. You stayed in a hotel over on the island paid for by the Cameron’s to make sure you could be there for him. It broke you to watch him go through withdrawal. He was sick all the time, but the treatment center worked, and he got clean. You guys ended up getting an apartment together afterwards and Rafe kept up with his required therapy.

 Looking back on it, Rafe couldn’t believe you stayed with him. He didn’t know if anyone else would have. So, when he overheard you talking to Sarah about getting married to him, he couldn’t believe you. All those times Ward told him he wasn’t good enough for anyone he believed him. He figured you were just staying with until you found someone better.

 Rafe was distant the whole way home. He didn’t say much in the truck, but you just figured he was tired from being outside all day. When you guys got back to the apartment, he went straight to take a shower. You knock on the door, “Babe you want me to join, I could use a shower too, I smell like chlorine and it’s giving me headache.” When you go to turn the knob its locked. “I won’t be long Y/N, you can shower after me.” He responded through the door. You heard the shower running, it was weird he said that he loved showering with you. He always said he loved the intimacy of it.

 This behavior continued on and off for weeks leading up to the engagement party. Rafe was always making excuses that he busy, he was with Topper, he had something to do with his dad, Wheezie needed to be picked up. It got to the point that you guys only talked at night and even then, things were different. He would cuddle you, but it wasn’t the same. You thought maybe it was the engagement party, he hated getting together with extended family because his father always brought up the business.

 It was finally the night of the engagement party, it was going to be a nice dinner, and photos then back to the Cameron home for an after party. You had picked Rafe’s suit up from the dry cleaners along with your dress. You were wearing a simple form fitting dress. You didn’t want to outshine Sarah on what was supposed to be her night. You were finishing the last bit of your makeup hollering out to Rafe. “Alright babe, I’m all ready to go.” You walk out of the bathroom putting your earrings in. Rafe was sitting on the couch flipping through his phone. He looked up at you and normally he would tell you how beautiful you looked but he just stood up heading to the door.

 The drive was quiet, music playing softly in the background. Rafe didn’t look over at you once. It was making you insecure, did you wear the wrong thing? Did you go overboard? Was it the wrong suit? You guys made small conversation the rest of the way. When you got to the restaurant you sat next to Wheezie, and Rafe sat next to John B. They talked all night but Rafe didn’t say anything to you. When you tried to put your hand on his thigh, he moved it off. You didn’t understand what had gotten into him.

 The pictures didn’t go any better. They did some family ones and then just some of John B and Sarah you took that as your opportunity to pull Rafe a side and mention something. “Is everything okay Rafe?” You ask as soon as you guys are way from listening ears. He gave you a confused look. “Everything’s fine.” He replied not saying anything after. “Oh really because you’ve been distant for weeks. You’ve barely said two things to me all day, did I do something?” You ask concern lacing your voice. You looked in his eye searching for any kind of emotion. “Look can we not make this about us Y/N, its Sarah and John B’s night. We can talk about it later.” He snapped at you. He walked away not saying another thing about it.

 Once you guys got to the party you went your separate ways. You were talking to Kie and Sarah laughing about something they said. You looked around for Rafe and didn’t see him anywhere. “Where’s Rafe Y/N? I haven’t seen him all night.” Kie asked looking at you. You looked around, “your guess is as good as mine. He’s been distant the last couple of weeks, I don’t know what’s wrong with him.” You explain to the girls. They both agreed it was weird for him to be acting that way.

 The DJ started playing some slower songs. Kie went off with Pope dancing and Sarah left with John B. You scanned the room looking for Rafe. You feel someone’s hand on the small of your back and it causes you to jump. You turn around and it’s just him, “sorry didn’t mean to scare you.” He laughs a little. You lean into his touch. “That’s okay, are you enjoying yourself?” You ask him. “Yeah, it’s not that bad of a party.” It was the stupid small talk again.

 That’s when the DJ started playing your guys song. “Rafe it’s our song, let’s go dance to it.” You grab his hand pulling him out to the dance floor before he could protest. You wrapped his arms around your waist, yours going around his neck. He kept distance from you though. You had finally had it.

 “For Christ sakes Rafe, what is going on with you. You’ve been avoiding me like the plague. Did I do something? I don’t know what I did but I’m sorry I didn’t mean to upset you. Are you not attracted to me anymore, is there someone else?” You start to ramble on. Rafe couldn’t believe you thought you were the problem. “It’s not you Y/N its me.” Rafe cut you off. “Well, that’s just great Rafe. Real cliché of you.” You said to him walking away. You walk onto the porch with him following. You prepared yourself for what you were about to hear.

 “Just tell me Rafe? Is there someone else?” You ask him looking down tears forming in your eyes. “What? No, there’s no one else.” He said to you nonchalantly. “Then what is it?” You ask, ready to break. Rafe took a deep breath. “I overheard you talking to Sarah. When you told her that you were ready for the next step. You told her you wanted to marry me, and I don’t know why. For the life of me, after everything I’ve put you through, I can’t understand why you love me. I don’t know why you want to throw your life away on a count of me.”

 He wasn’t looking at you anymore. He was looking out onto the water. Watching the moon bounce of the waves trying to calm himself. You walk up behind him placing a hand on his back. “I love you Rafe, that’s why I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” You turn his head so he’s looking at you. He had had to see you meant every word you were about to say.

 “I love that you remember my coffee order, even though I change it every week. I love that you make sure my shows are recorded when I forgot them. I love that bring me coffee when I’m working. I love the look in your eye when you just wake up in the morning. I love the sound of your voice when you tired and hung over. I love spending lazy days in bed with you. I love all these things and more. I’ve grown to love your faults, and your positives Rafe Cameron. And I’m sorry if I freaked you out with what I said to Sarah, but I’ve never loved someone like I love you. I love you so much it scares me sometimes. But then I look into your beautiful blue eyes and I’m not scared anymore, because I know when I have you, I can do anything.” You told him with tears in your eyes. He was almost crying too; he took you into a bone crushing hug. You guys stayed like that for while just swaying to the music softly playing the background.

 He finally pulled away you. Looking into his eyes you could tell he had cried a little. When he spoke, it was a whisper even though you were the only two out there. “I love you too Y/N. I want to marry you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I don’t want anyone else.” He kissed you with all the passion he had in him. You kissed him back with just as much emotion. “Okay, but I want to elope because I can’t plan another party.” You tell him after pulling apart. He laughed looking at you, “Deal.”

TAG:  angelreyesgirl100

[moonlightdreamzz]

empathetic — woozi

all you want, is for jihoon to care.

you always knew your boyfriend was more of an onion, and not a sunflower. what you mean by that, is that he had many layers to him, and he could not be pulled easily. if you wanted to peel the different pieces off of him, you had to work for it, but quite frankly you think you deserved a lot more than he had given you in the past couple of days.

you considered your body to be strong, but weak at the same time. you caught disease quite quickly such as colds, flu’s, and infections, but you also whooped its ass everytime. oddly enough, one of the things you looked forward to when you finally met your match was having someone to coo over your warm temperatures. a man who would surprise you with warm soups and extra blankets, who would also lay in bed with you no matter what was going on and give you kisses.

lee jihoon was not that man, which you knew, but you had no idea it would be this bad.

you were a mess - definitely not the prettiest sight you could conjure of yourself. you don’t remember the last time you saw your thick hair, which was never tamable on a good day, but especially for this past week had you just not been feeling any of your usual trials and tribulations of trying to figure out what to do with yourself. your bonnet had found itself halfway off your head from your tossing and turning through the night.

if you had the energy, you would crochet your hair. quick and easy timing, but also a cute look. jihoon also appreciated it on you, and you unfortunately lived to please him.

you weren’t dying at the moment, but you did have some concerning symptoms - a cough. so, symptom. of course your boyfriend did not bat an eye whatsoever for the past week as he scrambled through your home silently like the cute little mouse he was.

today is no different, but still your patience has completely ran thin. the penthouse you two shared was large enough so that whenever he wanted to hide from you, he could, and you knew that’s exactly what he was doing at this current moment.

when he finally walks into your shared bedroom ever so quietly, you can tell he was praying you were asleep.

“why are you hiding from me?” you question immediately. you don’t have much on, as you always got hot so easily. no shirt covered your body, just panties, but you and jihoon had been together so long that he was immune to your bare flesh. now that you think about it, you can’t remember the last time the two of you made any kind of love. luckily you didn’t need sex all the time in order to be satisfied, but jihoon wasn’t giving you anything at all.

“huh?” he responds quickly - proof you were right. you hated how cute he was, especially when he had what you referred to as his “morning puff”. he always had a chunky, sweet little face, but when he woke up from long nights in the studio, it was extra squishy and normally you would enjoy kissing all over his adorable face, but not today. you were upset.

“have you not heard me coughing for the past week?”

he turns to face you now. you’re sure he had a flashback to the many arguments where you begged him to look at you in your eyes. at least he cared about something you’ve said to him in the past.

“i have.” is all he says. that’s really all he has to say?

“and you haven’t done shit about it?”

“why are you cursing at me?”

“because I’m tired of the non-chalant attitude.”

he sighs out loud. that was his way of telling you he had better things to do. even so, he crawls on top of the bed and presses a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“relax, baby.” he encourages. “what do you want? i’ll order your favorite.”

this is what you referred to as the attempt. a very poor one, but an attempt never the less.

would it be wrong of you to ask for something home made? would that make you selfish? all of the other girlfriends gagged about whenever any minor issues went on with them, how the boys would cater to their every need like they were the queen of the entire world or something. why didn’t jihoon treat you that way? was he too comfortable?

“y/n?” he speaks, knowing you completely ignored his question in exchange for what if’s.

“nevermind.” you mutter, laying back on your California king.

“don’t do that.” he sighs. he’s irritated with you for sure, but what do you care?

“do you even care?” you question. “like seriously?”

“if I didn’t care I wouldn’t be sitting in this house with you. and I just told you I would buy you whatever you want. i don’t know what more you want me to do.”

“i want you to act like my boyfriend of a million years. i want you to coddle me and give me kisses and offer to wash my hair.”

“in what world is anybody allowed to touch your hair?” he questions seriously as his eyebrows scrunch together in completely confusion and irritation.

“does it matter if I would say no?”

he chuckles, but not in a way where he thinks you’re cute. you’re only making the situation worse in his eyes. “do you want the food or not?”

“do you remember when we first started dating?” you stand up promptly, your thighs rubbing together as you get closer to him.

“y/n, why do you expect me to be the exact same way I was when I first met you?”

“why do people have this weird belief that once you start dating for a certain amount of years that love has to slow down?”

“so you’re saying I don’t love you?”

“i’m saying i have been clearly sick for the past week and all you’ve been is cooped up in your studio like a damn crack addict. what I’m saying is, we are in a relationship but you don’t even care to ask me am I okay. i’m not dating you to still feel like I’m alone!”

“you do realize the only person who pays bills in this nice little house is me right? how else can I do that if not ‘cooped up in my studio like a crack addict’” he quotes directly from you.

“do you realize that you’re the one who told me I didn’t have to pay a bill in this house?”

“whatever.”

he tries to walk away, but you know it’s only because he hates to argue, especially recently. it was something about it that really pained him.

“baby.” you lower your tone from all the unnecessary yelling. you touch his hand, but he snatches it away so hard that you flinch and fall to the ground. “baby...” you whisper faintly, hoping that he’ll care. for once in a long time will he just care. but he doesn’t. with his pajamas still on does he snatch his keys and walk straight out of your - well, his apartment. he slams the door too.

you honestly couldn’t recall how much time had passed since he departed from your home. usually when the two of you fought, you could easily find ways to distract yourself while also ignoring your mild heartbreak from his actions. but for some reason, this time, you couldn’t stop thinking this may have been the end.

that was usually the case when you felt like someone was falling out of love with you when you did absolutely nothing to deserve it.

you tried to listen to music. you tried to cook, but you sucked terribly at cooking Korean food and that’s all you had in your possession. you tried to sleep, but with everything running through your mind, that was impossible. so here you were, stuck with your thoughts.

you also still had the terribly annoying cough.

you didn’t have many friends here. the only people who checked on you were vernon, coups, and mingyu. you were expecting to get a call from one of them any second now.

like clock work, your phone is ringing. quite frankly you weren’t prepared to see Vernon’s name pop up on your phone simply because he was the one who called the least, but you didn’t mind. he always got you turnt whenever you were down, and even when you were fighting with woozi he didn’t suddenly treat you like you didn’t exist. he was always a neutral party.

“hello?” you say softly - your voice hoarse from the constant coughing you were doing.

“hey.” his voice speaks softly, “you alright?”

“yeah I’m fine, just not feeling my best. i have this annoying ass cough and it’s not going away and I’m also alone so, just fine.” you chuckle while burying yourself deeper into the bed if that was even possible.

“damn, you been smoking that good?”

“unlike you, I only smoke on special occasions vernon.”

“yeah whatever. how’s woozi? haven’t been able to get ahold of him.”

“he’s fine...I think. he’s been trying to hide from me but that’s been the norm lately if I’m being honest.”

“wait, you said you were alone.” vernon remembers, “we’ve been off all week where is your boyfriend?”

“you know...being himself.” you and vernon may have not spoke as much, but when you did talk to him, everything flowed out. every secret. it should be like this with woozi, but. “maybe it’s my fault.” you sigh, scratching your scalp from outside your bonnet, “i kind of...asked for a lot I guess.”

“like?”

“well, I’m not feeling well. i just felt upset because it seemed like he was purposely trying to avoid me so I wouldn’t have the chance to ask him to do anything for me. and the thing is, I wasn’t going to ask for anything but a lousy fucking hug - a cuddle. the bare minimum. i would have even taken a no but to be avoided? it hurt my feelings and we fought and—ugh. he stormed out the house and I have no idea where he is and I want to call him but truthfully what did I do wrong vernon? lately I’ve been feeling like I’m in a relationship with myself and I know we can be better than this. woozi used to be the sweetest little baby. he may have been hard to others, but he opened up for me. i feel shut out.”

you feel so much better getting all of that out, even though you know your boyfriend may have not appreciated the sentiment.

you know vernon listened to every single word and and would come back with some heartfelt advice.

“just give it time y/n. i can’t speak on jihoon like I am him, but if there’s one thing I know? it’s that you are the only person he truly loves that doesn’t share his bloodline. of course he loves us, but you - he opens up to you. he’s allowed you to see him. maybe there’s something going on. or maybe he just didn’t know what to do. just let him come back to you and see what happens.”

“thank you vernon. forreal.” you don’t know why his words affected you so much and made you feel such a heavy weight of guilt in the part where you held your boyfriend so deeply - your heart, but you did.

more hours had passed, and still no sign of woozi. you even tossed your pride away and called him, only to be sent straight to voicemail. you must have really irritated him, but you still didn’t feel sorry. you didn’t move your pride aside that much.

you did feel somber though, considering how much you loved him even through how he had been acting lately. and without him in your life, there was no reason for you to be here - in Korea. you didn’t want to end things. you just wanted to feel loved.

you still haven’t gotten out the bed except when you needed to pee. YouTube and funny clips had been keeping your company. maybe it was because of boredom, but things began to get darker and darker in your home. you were fading into a bitter sweet slumber. regardless, it’s what you needed. maybe your cough would subdue.

jihoon is quiet as a mouse as always when he walks inside, hands full of multiple things. all day had your words rang through his mind that was already full of so many things. had he really been making you feel so worthless? like you weren’t the most important person for his soul other than his family? actually, you were his family. there was never a day where he felt like he deserved you, but the minute the two of you kissed for the first time did he know that he would do whatever he had to, to keep you forever.

so when did he stop? he kind of knew he hadn’t been his best, but he didn’t know why. it was as if he was doing it on purpose, but not because of something you did. lately, it had just been so hard to keep up with everything in his life. all of the schedules seventeen had. and in between, as he was one of the frequent producers for the group, there were so many deadlines he had to meet he just felt so overwhelmed.

but he heard you coughing, and he was so worried. even so, he didn’t ask you what was wrong. why didn’t he ask you - his baby - what’s wrong? especially after it was day three and the cough was not improving? any other man who would practically rip his limbs off to be with you, would have been catering to your every need. they would have gave you all the kisses you needed, would have given you a full body massage, and offered to wash your hair even knowing that the answer was going to be no.

but he didn’t.

when he left, he was so angry. but not at you, at himself. vernon was the first person he called as he knew that while the two of you didn’t talk often, that he was the one who knew how to get your exact feelings. he hated how much of a wimp he sounded like when he had to bargain a song in exchange for vernon to call you. vernon declined and called you anyway.

to hear you on the phone, telling vernon that you felt as if you weren’t loved. feeling like you were in a relationship with yourself? that broke him. so, he called another one of his members who he knew would guide him into the right direction - mingyu.

“ill order everything, hyung. all you have to do is pick everything up. what you need to do right now, is practice your apology. oh, and pick up some cough medicine for her.”

so he did. his little body struggled to get everything inside, but he figured you would be asleep at this time. when you were bored, you had a tendency to doze off.

his instructions were to set everything up real nice on a table and serve it to you as if you were on a date, but woozi knew you better than that. he knew all you wanted to do was eat in bed and go right back to sleep. and talk.

he walks through the slim hallway that leads into your shared bedroom, and he was right. you were sleeping. the tv shined on your beautiful skin that he loved to place his cheek on whenever he felt any negative or positive emotion. he wasn’t sure what was on the tv. you probably weren’t either. you both loved to put on random movies and shows and talk about how much they sucked.

he approaches you gently - afraid that any little noise would startle you. he places everything on the fluffy sheets; the roses, your meal, your medicine, and the usb with the song he had been saving for you all lined up in orderly fashion. your bonnet is falling off your head as always, so he adjusts it. you had a pet peeve about that.

you were so beautiful. the most beautiful person he had ever met in his entire life. and you loved him. you - the brightest star in the galaxy and the sweetest soul chose him out of all of the people you had attempting to steal your heart. he couldn’t let another second go by without fixing this.

“baby.” he whispers. his thumb caresses your ear gently. he always wanted to be this guy. the hopeless romantic, always knew what to do guy, but girls never wanted him. he was always too short, too boring, all of the bad things. you never felt that way though. you always told him he was the perfect size for you. that he wasn’t boring, it was just that people never wanted to take the time to get to know him.

you moved slightly, but he knew he had just only scraped whatever dream you were currently in. he had to try a little harder to return you back to the world. his lips find themselves on your sweet face, just as you do to him every morning. little by little is he painting his love on you until you finally begin to stir.

“are you a murderer?” are the first words you speak.

you were always so hilarious, even without trying. he knew that was a genuine question no matter how funny the delivery was.

“no. i hope not.” he responds.

he can see you recognize his voice from the way you release the breathe he didn’t even know you were holding. woozi expected you to push him off you the minute you realized it was him, but you didn’t.

“hi baby.” you whisper, pulling him into you.

“hi baby.” he repeats, inhaling your sweet scent. it always made him feel like he was in heaven.

you pull back, cuffing his chubby face into his hands. if there was one thing about your fights with jihoon, it was that it wasn’t hard to make up. a simple look in each others eyes was enough to make up for everything. it was such a toxic trait, but it worked out.

“wait.” you breathe out as you notice everything behind your boyfriend. “ji...”

“it’s nothing, y/n.” he sighs, moving back so he can have a full view of you. “it’s what I should be giving you every fucking day. you are my queen. you are the only thing that is keeping me sane with this lifestyle.”

“everyday would drive even me crazy, ji.” you giggle, “you know that’s not what this is about. it’s just, I know how we used to be and I know how we are now. i don’t want us to get so comfortable with each other that we forget why we are together. you know that happened to my parents and I want to be with you forever.”

“i know.” all of sudden he feels it - the feeling he’s been feeling for the past couple of weeks whenever something bad happens. his whole body feels sick. he hasn’t told you about it because he thought it would go away, but it hasn’t. it seems as if this is going to be the worse one as it does involve the love of his life.

“hey.” you sit up, throwing one of his shirts that laid free on the bed. “what’s wrong babe? i’m here. i’m right here.”

you had never seen him like this before. you knew there was no such thing as a person who didn’t have internal issues, but this seemed like something that had been wanting to boil over for a while. you knew what severe anxiety looked like as you suffered from it. this was it.

“i don’t know, y/n.” he breathes out shakily. “this has been...happing lately.”

“why didn’t you tell me? hm?”

“i don’t know. i don’t know anything other than that I love you. and that I’m sorry.” he seems to be calming down from your touch. had he known this was all he needed, all the pain he suffered would have never taken place. he should have known though. you were his angel after all.

“we tell each other everything, baby.” you remind him as you begin to place gentle kisses onto his neck. “never forget that. there is nothing we can’t get through together.”

“i know.” is all he can say - your lips were too much of a distraction for him especially when he hasnt felt them in so long. he always craved you, but the two of you always took a lot of breaks. your relationship was much deeper than your love making no matter how addicted the two of you were to eachother.

you want to get right into it. you want to throw him on the bed, and ride every ounce of anxiety your boyfriend has right off, and then you want to eat your food, take your medicine, and drift into what you know will be the best sleep you’ve gotten in a while. but you two had to talk. everything needed to be squashed.

“ji, what can I do to fix this? i don’t like the way I’ve been feeling. and I know you don’t either.”

“you are perfect. you always have been. it’s me, but I promise I’ll do better. i’ll get everything under control.”

“you mean we will get everything under control. honestly baby, let’s not even use that terminology. we will learn to overcome this. anxiety is completely normal. you just can’t let it control you okay? and we have to communicate. don’t be afraid to show me any parts of you especially when you’ve seen my literal insides.” you joke, just to see his smile. he does, and it’s so bright. your foreheads lean into eachother immediately - natural just like your love.

“i love you.” he whispers.

“i love you.” you repeat. the two of you tried your best to not add too, to that sentence, as it meant in exchange for the other ones love and that’s not what was going on here. no matter what, the two of you loved each other. even if one stopped.

woozi goes back to buisness immediately, knowing you two were better now. his hands remove the covers that covered your body, and his tounge finds itself on your neck - his favorite place that’s not inside you.

“you feeling better?” he questions, still attacking you.

“i think this will distract me for a bit.” you giggle

“i’ll make it it all go away. you know I will.” are his final words before he lays on top of you, sliding his shirt off of your body with ease.

you were in for a long night. and the two of you still were in need of a conversation about what he was going through, but you knew what the both of you needed in this moment. you needed to feel each other again.

[lexiwright]

Night out

Benny watts x reader

I'm so so so sorry this to so long to come out. I had planned it to be out for new year and then I kept changing my mind so it may not seem like it makes sense apologizes, I'm also promptly moving tomorrow. I literally was told my parents couldn't handle me and my mental health anymore and am not getting kicked out just ( space for everyone ) so yea I'm feeling very low and just so no one wonders why the next one will probably take so long. I'll be living with my real mum who has her own issues too so we will see

Trigger warning - slight alcohol miss use. Slight drunken abuse (not from benny he would never.)

Some cuddles and fluff

Prompt - ”Can you please come and get me ”

--------

It had been a less than successful night. Your sure others wouldn't agree but you sat next to a gutter at the side of a very quiet road in front of a building of which merely hours ago you had been drinking aside friends in had drunk adults spilling from the door as everyone came and went.

Your arms wrapped tightly around yourself, you glanced around and spotted a payphone a little down the street. Pulling yourself off the ground and reaching for your bag you stumble your way away from the slow rumbling music that clung around the door from inside. It got distant and you fell into the booth.

You thought about how the night had started. The party had been on everyones mind for days. You were going with cleo and the boys. Beth was even gonna meet you guys there. Who was in New York for a few days, staying in a hotel a few blocks from the party. Although she didn't stay long, trying to keep sober.

You guys had got there around 11. In time for the beginning of shots being pasted around. Which you off course accepted. Kick starting the night with some vodka.

All went well for a few hours, by about 2 you'd put back your fair share of drink. And that's when it started to hit you. You weren't a stranger to the results of alcohol tho and kept going like it was nothing.

But apparently your uneven walking had caught the attention of some...less than pleasant individuals. They had tried talking to you before and you just ignored them. They had a look in their eyes that you weren't comfortable with so you didn't dwell on them.

But they had dwelled on you it seemed. They noticed as your balance had started to wobble. Quite possibly noticing when your words all slurred together. And definitely when you stumbled in front of them as you had unsuccessfully attempted to step past one of them. But there was no call for the man to grab you. And not in a way to help you balance. You told him to let go. But his hands had other ideas. You tried to pull his hands off of you and your not sure what happened next but he slapped you.

You probably did something wrong you thought. You always screw things up.

Some words were exchanged and you rushed out. Not after kneeling him in a not so nice place. he tried to grab you. Ripping the shoulder of your one straps. It was a cheap dress but now you had to make sure you help up the strap just in case.

You felt humiliated and your face hurt.

You found some money in your bag, next to some mint gum that you decided was a higher priority.

Benny hadn't come to the party. He thought it sounded stupid. And when you had stepped out of your room into the middle of the apartment he looked at you and snorted.

” what do you expect to get in that get up?” he asked suggestively.

You didn't think anything of it and giggled at him. But now you thought maybe it truly was your fault an that you seemed like you were asking for it.

Shaking your head to clear it of such thoughts. Which made the small booth spin a little but you stuck with it. Putting in the coins and trying to remember the right numbers for the house. You felt sick as you listened for the click of the phone being a answered and a harsh voice on the other end speaking.

”hello?”

It was Benny. Hopefully you hadn't woke him.

” Benny?” you whispered out. Realising you had to speak

” Y/N?” he questioned. Voice softening a little.

You twirled the cable as you stared at your shaking hand.

Your throat seemed to close up as you looked for the words. To explain how drunk you had got. To explain what the men tried to do to you. Why you hadn't come home yet even though it was now 3.

” Y/N what's the matter” he asked sternly.

Your eyes pricked with sudden tears and with a slight choke you sobbed out.

”Can you please come and get me ”

”what happened where are the others?” he seemed startled

” I don't know. I'm sorry. Please Benny.”

There was a split second of silence and then

” I'm coming to get you stay right where you are. ” and then another click.

You waited. Felt like a life time. You thought about a lot of things. Part of you was worried Benny wouldn't come. That he would leave you here. You struggled to keep your self balanced so you went over to a step and sat down. Put your head in your hands with your elbows resting on your thighs.

You sighed. Maybe you should find your own way. You sat up and ran your fingers through your hair.

It wasn't to long before a taxi pulled up in front of you and outstepped a slightly frustrated looking Benny.

His hair askew and a loose black shirt, he took a few long strides to reach you.

Looking up you giggled at how tall he looked. Sighing at your antics he held out a hand and began to pull you too your feet.

Wobbling considerably you made it to an upright position and with a long arm around your waist you stumbled your way to the taxi.

You some how got in. A testament to what a person would do to get away from a party.

You could tell he hadn't noticed your strap or face yet, you had concealed it well. Somehow.

Time didn’t work for you so you’ve no idea how long it took to get home. But when you did benny got out first to open the door for you and pay the driver.

Thanking the man. He shut the car door and watched for a second as it pulled away before turning his attention to the more presssing matter of the drunking idiot before him. Giggling at a joke he obviously missed.

He noticed your face. You saw the moment he did and he stepped closer. Enough to see the outline of a hand.

This was when Benny realised there was a little more to this story of you just getting blitzed as he, for the first time took in your appearance, clocking the strap you were holding up with your arms folded.

A hint of rage passed through him before he calmed and took your hand to get you inside. You were barely three steps into the building befor you asked

“How am I supposed to get down the stairs”

Slurring lightly.

He sighed. Not for the last time and leaned down to hoist you into his arms and proceeded with caution as he walked with you. You giggled some more as you wrapped your arms around his neck, hugging into him.

You were drained. And you wanted to sleep. Leaning your face into his neck you've never felt safer.

When he reached the bottom he placed you down gently and unlocked the door to let you both in. This time just holding you round the waist as you wobbled down the small set of stairs. He then pulled you to the sofa and sat you down.

After doing the usually after drinks things like water and getting you a jumper and some shorts of his he then sat next to you and spoke for the first time since you's had got in.

”are you going to tell me what happened?” he gently pushed. Not wanting to push you over the limit but he was concerned.

Your face fell and you nodded a little and told him very roughly but enough that he understood what had happened. He was angry, to say the least, but knew there was nothing he could do about the disrespectful toad roaming the streets. So he settled to offer you an open arm for you to cuddle into him. You of course jumped at the offer and snuggled into the warm man.

You didn't want to go to bed and Benny knew that. Knowing you'd not have the effort to get up and both being quite comfortable where you both remained.

You spotted a book on the coffee table and looked up at Benny with puppy dog eye that you knew he couldn't refuse.

” will you read to me?” you pleaded.

He chuckled and lent forward to retrieve the book. It happened to be the hobbit. ( I know it's not for everyone but I know it's written before Benny time so apologies please roll with it)

As he started to read chapter one an unexpected party and began describing the hobbit hole. You felt yourself begin to doze off to the soothing tones and his other hand rubbing soft circles on your upper arm.

It wasn't how the night had supposed to go but you were with him now and you felt protected. Knowing he came to your aid.

(with regards to the slap Yes I know this is a little unrealistic it lasting that long but I once got one that lasted a few hours ( I’m not being hit just to clarify it was a joke with some pals who one of them was telling me about a slap match to see how much he could take and the other we were with friend had really went for it and it was actually shockingly sore and my drunk ass went I can take it and he was reluctant at first and then went to go and did it before stating that was hadn’t been hard enough and went again even harder and it left quite a mark and we all laughed so ya. ) but just pretend if you don’t think it would )

[jean-kayak]

Falling Back Into Your Bed

Summary: One night was enough to have you crawling back to him

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x black!fem!reader

Warnings: college!au, (smut 18+!!), fingering, oral sex, unprotected sex, degradation, Eren's a little shit, little bit of ass smacking, mentions of sex under the influence (consensual), enemies to lovers sort of?

Word Count: 3120

A/N: This is has been in the drafts for a while, and it wasn't supposed to take the turn it was supposed to but I'm happy with it lmaoo. Completely unrelated, but I like making headers lol

It happened one time. To say you weren't really in the straightest mindset, but it happened once and now you're hooked. Your brain only filled with those images from that night. You groan as you pull at your hair, no matter how hard you try, you can't focus on studying. Your brain completely occupied.

"You seem troubled? Need some help?" The snarky comment comes from your right, and you scoff as you rub your forehead.

"Shut the fuck up," you spit with a little more aggression than you intended as you try to focus on anything but that amazing night.

"You thinking about that night? It could always happen again." The words whispered against your skin makes the images flash fully in your head, and you push him away from you, which only gets a chuckle in return.

"Fuck off, Jaeger," you groan as you close your textbook.

"You alright?" Sasha asks you, and you sigh as you nod.

"Yeah, it's just been a long day. I think I'm gonna head back to my dorm." You end your study session with your friends, stuffing your books in your bag, giving them a wave of goodbye as you walk out of the library, sighing in content when the sun rays hit your skin.

You slept with Eren. The only person who can get on your nerves to the nth degree. You woke up in horror realizing what you did, but the horror was that you liked it. It was amazing, the best sex you've ever had. Of course, it has to come from the person you despise the most.

It was a party that Jean wanted you to go to, and he happened to be there, annoying you to no end as he usually is, and then he was kissing you, and then you're walking up to his room and the rest is history. The memories of that night flood your head again.

The way his hands felt hot against your skin, branding a path all over your body. The way his lips brushed all over your skin, stopping to show some parts of your body some love by sucking dark marks onto the skin that took you forever to cover up.

The way his d--

Wait, stop! What am I doing?

You shake your head as you take another deep breath. This is not how you thought your week was going to go.

"I don't know if you have mind-blowing sex what's the big deal? I'm failing to see the problem," Hitch says, and you roll your eyes as you fall back on your bed.

"The problem is that I don't like him. He gets on my last nerve. Why can't I have amazing sex with a guy that I don't wanna stab on a daily basis?" you argue, and Hitch scoffs as she rolls her eyes.

"Well, maybe it's the fact that you don't like each other that's making the sex great."

"I just wanna stop thinking about it," you admit.

"Well, it doesn't seem to be bothering him as much as it is you," she responds, and that part is what makes you the most irritated and confused.

You were sure you weren't that bad,  but it's like he isn't even fazed by it, only teasing you about it in the best way possible. You groan as you roll over, burying your face in your pillow.

The only reason why you're forced to interact with him is that you're friends with Armin who's best friends with Eren. If that wasn't the case, you probably would never see him again, let alone be in the same room as him where he can annoy you.

"Whatever. Maybe I just need to get laid again, get him off my mind," you mumble into the pillow, and you know Hitch is giving you a look without even turning your head.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say," she muses. "Speaking of getting laid, there's another party tonight if you want to go."

You turn your head to the side to face her. "Weren't you just a party last weekend?" you comment, and she shrugs.

"You only live once." You raise your eyebrows at her answer but shrug anyway.

"If I don't have anything to do, then I'll go."

~

You should've stayed the fuck home because this party is not it. You don't know if it's because you really don't want to be here or the fact that you're sober, but you can't help but sigh in annoyance as you walk through the crowd until you find a corner where anyone isn't making out.

You nurse your drink, but the taste of the beer is slowly making you sick after two sips, so you just hold it to give you something to do. "You look like you're having fun."

You roll your eyes at the familiar voice, tilting your head to the side as you look at him. "I should've known you'd be here." You knew that you should've listened to that weird feeling in the back of your head the moment you stepped into the room. "I'm not really feeling it," you say, and he steps closer to you.

"Well, we could always go somewhere else, and I can make you scream while I split you open on my dick again." You clench your jaw as you find something else to look at, trying and failing to ignore the way his words make your body hot all over.

You scoff. "Yeah, in your dreams."

"Really? You don't miss this?" he asks, pulling you into him, and you can't help when your mouth falls open slightly your breath hitching. "Cause I sure miss the way your tight pussy clamped around me."

Your thighs squeeze together subconsciously as you let out a small moan, luckily it's muffled by the music, but he doesn't miss your reaction. "Yeah, I'll pass," you muster, and he smirks as he chuckles.

"Fine, have it your way. The offer still stands," he says before he walks away, and you sigh heavily as you drink from your cup. You have to get out of here.

Eren can't take his eyes off of you as you walk around the room. You've filled your cup back up, but you haven't drank from it, the only thing on your face is that you want to get out of here. Even as you talk to some blond guy, Reiner he thinks his name is, your face is very evident in showing that you're tired of this conversation, but you're too nice to leave.

He walked over to talk to you just to tease you but ended up doing the same thing to himself. He finds it funny that you seem to deny what happened between you two even though you reacted the way you did. If he could take you in front of all these people, he would.

Well, he can, but he's better than that.

He doesn't tell you this, he doesn't think he will, but you're the only thing that's been on his mind, but he's just better at hiding it. He can't count how many times he's thought about your body, the noises you made, how fucked out you looked as you took his dick. Every time he touches himself, those are the only things he thinks about.

And every single time he finishes, he declares that he's going to get you back into his bed.

Which is why he decided to come to this party even though he didn't want to. He knew Hitch would drag you out here, and he knew that there was no way he was letting you go.

He almost feels bad for the guy. Even though he can't hear the conversation, he knows Reiner is trying and failing to woo you with his awful flirting tactics. He can recognize your fake laugh from a mile away.

He decides that he can't stand to watch this horror show any longer, and he moves over to where you are, rolling his eyes at a lame pick-up line he hears come from him. "Hey, I need to talk to you," he buds in, and you give him a look.

"I'm in the middle of a conversation." You state the obvious, and he gives you a lazy look.

"Yeah, not really," he responds, and you squint at him. "Come on, it'll take a second."

You sigh, giving in before turning to the buff guy next to you. "I'll be right back," you tell him, and only Eren knows that that's not true.

He eyes Eren before giving you a smile and a nod, and you follow Eren as you walk the too familiar walk to his room. He closes the door behind him when you walk in, and you cross your arms. "What was so important that you had to pull me from my conversation?" you question, annoyed, and he smiles at you.

"Yeah, it totally looked like you were enjoying that little chat." You roll your eyes as he takes your cup out of your hand, setting it on his dresser. "How much have you had?"

You frown at him. "To drink? Not enough because it's difficult to have a conversation with you sober."

He chuckles lightly as he walks closer to you until your knees hit the bed. "Can I say something?" he asks, and you try to act like his close proximity isn't bothering you.

"If it'll make this end sooner."

"All I've thought about is that night," he tells you, and he moves closer, making you fall down onto the bed as you look up at him with wide eyes. He hovers over you, one hand on the mattress next to you, the other trailing down your body, making goosebumps break out over your skin.

"How good you felt, how loud you were, how fucking soaked you were." His lips brush against yours as he runs a hand down your tube top, biting your lip when he rolls his finger over your nipple.

"What does this have to do with me being sober?" you ask breathlessly, and he smirks as his hand moves down to your shorts, and he doesn't miss the way your thighs tense like you don't know whether to close them or not.

"Because I want to see if I can make you scream just as loud." He crashes his lips down on yours, making you squeak in surprise before you finally let him in, moaning when his tongue rubs over the roof of your mouth.

You thought your thoughts about Eren would change if you were sober, but he's just as addicting as he was that night, and you find it difficult to object to anything he's doing.

He crawls with you as you move up further on the bed, your body flushing hot all over. He works your shirt off, throwing it somewhere off to the side before trailing hot, wet kisses down your neck before moving to your chest.

Your hand makes its way into his hair, messing up the bun that it was in as he mouths at your nipples, pulling the taut bud with his teeth and his fingers before switching. "Did I ever tell you that you have nice tits?" he tells you with a playful smile on his face as he fondles them, and you scoff at his childish comment as you shift on the bed, the rough abrasion of your shorts against your crotch becoming extremely uncomfortable.

He works his shirt off as he slides down your body, his lips just grazing your skin to be teasing, and he unbuttons your shorts, peeling them off your legs, letting out a huff when his eyes land on your panties.

"You're so fucking wet," he mumbles, and you hiss at the cool air hitting your sensitive core when he pulls the fabric down and off your legs. You start to say something when he doesn't move, but you let out a low moan in surprise when he licks a broad stripe up your folds.

Your back arches off the bed at the sudden stimulation, and he lays an arm over your hips to keep you still, his other hand digging into the flesh of your thighs as he keeps you spread open. "And you taste so fucking good," he groans as he moves from licking between your folds to flicking at your clit.

"Fuck, Eren," you whine, pulling at the roots when his tongue prods at your hole.

"Come on, baby, I know you can be louder than that," he challenges, pushing one of your legs over to give him more room. His tongue prods at your hole before he replaces it with his fingers, his mouth going back to focus on your clit.

He's already curling two fingers inside of you as he sucks on the bundles of nerves, pulling it into his mouth, before circling his tongue around the bud. What you definitely didn't forget was how amazing his head game was. Your toes curl as the grip on his hair tightens, and it takes a few more pumps on his fingers hitting that sensitive spot inside of you to make you cum, moaning loudly as your orgasm hits.

"There we go. That's better," Eren says before moving his tongue to your hole to lap up your release. You're panting as he moves back up towards your face, his covered in your release. "But I still think you can be louder."

"You sound like you're all talk," you challenge even though you're still breathless.

He chuckles darkly before getting rid of the rest of his clothes, putting himself right back over you. "Sounds like you're undermining my skills," he jabs back as he lines himself up.

"Sounds like you're overestimating yourself," you counter, but you trail off before you can finish the last word as he pushes himself in, and you both moan at the feeling.

"Shit, I'll never get over how amazing you feel," he breathes once he bottoms out, and you're urging him to move, which he quickly obliges, your mouth falling open at the feeling of being stretched out with every stroke.

He moves himself so that he's on his knees, your hips angled upwards as he thrusts into you way too slowly for your liking. "Come on, Eren," you whine, knowing he can make you feel way better than he is right now. "Fuck me harder," you plead, and he coos at you.

"Aww, but I'm trying to make love to you, princess," he drawls, and you groan in frustration as you try to move, but he holds you down, making sure he's the only one moving.

"I don't want you to make love to me," you whine, desperate to have him fuck you until you see stars.

"But I like seeing you beg for me, seeing you so desperate, it's cute, keep going," he says, and you roll your eyes.

"Fuck--" He cuts you off with a sharp thrust, nailing your g-spot with ease.

"Me? Well, you're already doing that, sweetheart." You scrunch your nose at the stupid pet name, and you scoff before you smirk at him.

"As I said, you're all talk," you taunt. "Pretty sure Reiner could make me scream louder than you ever could." The playful demeanor in his face drops and his eyes are going dark, and suddenly he's pulling out of you, and rolling you onto your stomach.

He pulls you up to your knees, and he slams into you, making you cry out at the sudden intrusion as your eyes roll back. "You think you're funny, huh?" he spits before pulling you to his chest by your shoulder. "You wanted to get a rise out of me so that I could fuck you like a filthy whore."

You can barely respond, your body feeling like it's being shocked every time he rams that spot, and you jolt when he pushes on your clit. "Already going stupid? I haven't even done anything yet."

He pushes you back down, pushing your back until your chest is flush against his bed. "You're such a needy slut, aren't you?" A smack to your ass, the sting snapping you out of your daze. "Answer me."

"Fuck yes!" You can barely get it out, your knuckles starting to hurt from how hard you're gripping the sheets.

"Who's fucking you this good?" You don't answer quick enough, it's not like you can, but that only makes him fuck you harder. "Who?!"

"You! God, Eren, you," you moan, and you release your grip on the sheets as you feel yourself starting to drool.

"Who owns this fucking cunt? Fuck." His head falls back on his shoulders as you clamp around him, and he pushes on your clit again when you don't respond.

"You, oh fuck, 's all yours." You buck your hips back, meeting his, and he smacks your ass again.

"Come on, baby, you can say my name." He sounds just as wrecked as you, and his name is the only thing you're coherent enough to say, and you know that you're loud and that anyone walking past the door or on the other side of the walls can hear you.

"Shit, your pussy is so," he cuts himself off with a groan, his body curling as he feels his high building up as you suck him back in.

"Eren, I'm--" You try to tell him that you're close, so close, but you can't, tears running down your face from the constant stimulation on that spot inside of you.

He responds with a groan, and you know he's close too, and the next thing you know, you're cumming hard, your body going rigid. Your orgasm triggers his, and he cums with a moan of your name, his climax hitting him so hard, he falls on top of you.

Both of you fall down on the bed, his ragged breathing fanning against your neck, and he rolls the both of you over before rubbing up and down your top half softly. "You okay?" he asks against your neck, and you can feel the smirk on your skin.

You respond with a content whine, and his grip on your waist tightens when you try to move. "Stop moving. I'm trying to cuddle you."

You scoff before chuckling lightly. "Since when you do cuddle?"

"Since now. Now, shut up, I'm trying to go to sleep."

You roll your eyes at the words, but there's no heat behind them, and you feel sleep catching up to you as well.

Eren Jaeger might annoy to no end, but maybe this isn't so bad.

[chrisevansgoodgirl]

you got a fetish for my love, i push you out and you come right back

summary: the softest man in the world is in love

warnings: nick is a warning. how dare he. smut. smoking (but we’re trying to get him to stop). some of that daddy shit bc ugh, that beard.

word count: around 5,320

pairing: nick vaughan x reader

a/n: let me tell you, it is weird writing nick one second, the softest, sweetest man, and then switching over to ransom, aka satan.

“You shouldn’t be smoking.”

The man with his back to you turned around, arching an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

You brought your hands up to your waist, looking as confident as you could possibly make yourself look. You didn’t have a mirror on you, but you would bet it wasn’t very convincing. “Um, second-hand smoke. Third-hand smoke. Not to mention what it could do to you.”

Moving closer, he took another brief drag. “And what’s that?”

You huffed. Really? You were going to reach way back into your 8th-grade health class memories for that. “Lung disease, it can cause cancer, like, everywhere, heart disease—”

“But you’re already taking care of my heart, angel.”

You fell silent at that, frowning.

He continued to close the gap between you. “What else?”

“It’s bad for your skin,” you asserted, tone firm despite how close he was getting. “Causes wrinkles.”

“That so?”

You nodded, refusing to step back as he stopped mere inches before you. “We wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re my father.”

He smirked, dropping his cigarette on the floor and stepping on it with the toe of his boot. Boots that were far too expensive to be stepping on cigarettes with. Hell, he shouldn’t even have been outside with them. “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

Your gaze moved off to the side and finally, you stepped away to create some distance. ‘You said you were going to stop, Nick.”

“I know, I’m trying.”

“Try harder. I’m being serious, okay? People die—”

He moved back in front of you and took your chin in his hand, forcing your gaze up to his. “I’m working on it.”

“If you really care about me, you’ll stop.”

“I’m gonna stop,” he promised. “Soon. Come on, don’t give me those eyes.”

He loved your eyes. He had to have told you about a hundred times by now, claimed he liked the innocence in them that never seemed to die out. No matter how many times he took you up to his hotel room and fucked you in every filthy way he could think of. Sure, it was pretty sick sometimes, but he always touched you so softly, whispered the sweetest things to you, and held you afterward.

Your eyes could make him do just about anything, he would often declare. Except, apparently, stop smoking.

“Come on, I’m sorry.”

You crossed your arms, pulling out of his hold. “You’re only sorry you got caught.”

“No, I’m sorry for upsetting you.”

“And don’t be sorry to just me, be sorry to yourself. I think you need healthy lungs for your music career, right?”

He lifted his eyebrows, still amused at how serious you were being. No one in New York took smoking seriously.

“Also, you ever stop and think about what would happen to me if you weren’t here?” That was a little on the sneaky side. You knew that there was the overall scenario of you being lonely, but he would soon start to think about how that would mean you would be with other people.

He scoffed, feigning calmness. “No, I don’t. I don’t want you to, either.”

You didn’t need to hear it, you knew he could connect the dots. “You are forcing me to.”

“Angel, what’s all this about?” he wondered. “Why are you being such a brat?”

“I’m not being a brat,” you immediately protested. Even though you knew he didn’t mind, there was just something in you that twisted at the thought of being bratty. You were not trying to be argumentative even, you were just worried.

“You want daddy to spank you?”

You looked around with wide eyes. Not that anyone in New York had the time or interest to listen to anyone else’s conversations, but still, this was private. “Nick.”

He tsked. “Nick?”

You sighed, casting a look around. “There are too many people here.”

He chuckled. “No one’s listening, angel.”

“I’m not being bratty,” you muttered. “I’m just concerned about you. Since when is that a crime?”

He smiled, reaching his hand out for you. You didn’t waste any time nearly wrapping your entire body around his arm. “What do you want?”

You were not getting away this time, he was also in a mood. Evidently, since he usually spoiled you to the point of letting you get away with “misbehaving” if you apologized or feigned discomfort.

“Take me upstairs, daddy.” It was hardly above a whisper, but it thrilled him to no end that he’d managed to get you to call him that outside of the absolute comfort of the bedroom.

Nick liked you feeling safe with him. He’d never met a more trusting soul, someone almost naive. However, it had taken him a long fucking time to get that sincere trust from you. He picked up on the body language, the things you wouldn’t say. That was why he could give the date for the night you finally let him fuck you with the lights on, the night you finally stayed with him until morning, the night you finally gave him your number because he had convinced you to sneak away from your dad to meet him at the hotel and you had to get back home but you still wanted to talk to him. He could give the date for the first morning you woke up and put on one of his shirts, the morning you let him eat you out for the first time, the morning you let him fuck you against the hotel window.

He wrapped his arms around you and started to lead you inside. It had been almost a year now and you were obsessed with Nick. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and he was kind and gentle, but also passionate and sometimes a little rough when he knew you wanted him to be. It was never mindless, hard fucking. Even when he made it hurt, he held you so close, so tight, his eyes would remain on yours the whole time. He would wipe away your tears and continue bucking his hips. He would whisper to you, coo at you, and make you fall apart until you were so exhausted you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

You were pretty sure you were in love with him. He would be the first. Sure, there was your first boyfriend who you had wanted to be your first for everything. He’d given you a promise ring and told you that he wanted to wait until you were his wife. That one didn’t end well. Your third boyfriend, you thought that one was real. You’d had sex with him, and then he completely disappeared. To this day, you had no idea where he was. But you knew now, those things you’d felt for them, they were so small, so weak. What you felt for Nick was consuming, you felt like every inch of you belonged to him, like you were made for him.

In the elevator, with an elderly couple, an older man, and a party of four younger women that looked like they were on their way to a club, Nick had his lips to your ear. “Angel, I’m gonna fuck you until you’re crying. You know I love those sounds you make and the look you give me when you just can’t take anymore. When your beautiful, little cunt is used and aching and dripping with my cum. But that’s only after I have you on the bed, wet, squirming, begging daddy to make you feel good.”

You felt like you were on fire. If anyone heard, you would be mortified, you would never be able to leave your house again. Things like this were supposed to be private, between the people who were doing it. Nick had the audacity to make some of it almost public. You would admit that there was the tiniest bit of thrill, but most of it was fear and panic.

He touched the side of your face and you startled a little, one of your hands coming up to settle over his forearm. “Jesus, you’re beautiful and so fucking…innocent.”

You were not innocent. You weren’t even sure what he meant by that. Ever. When he said it, you were confused each time.

“The thought of your gorgeous lips wrapped around my cock, trying to take all you can because you’re so good to me, those eyes staring up at me…”

You swallowed thickly, eyes moving to the elevator buttons. How many more god damn floors were there? The elevator stopped again seconds later, and the elderly couple got out. Fewer people but you still didn’t feel any less nervous.

“Afterward, your sweet, tight pussy will be dripping. You know how wet you get after you suck my cock.”

Embarrassingly wet. He was fascinated the first time you’d done it, then he laid you out on the bed and when he made the discovery, he ate you out until you could barely remember what year it was.

“Then I’m gonna have you on top of me, angel. You’re so good at it, I swear you were made just to ride my cock. Remember what you were begging me for last time?”

You remembered and instantly felt your skin burning all over again.

“Maybe I’ll fuck your—”

The elevator stopped on your floor and you rushed out. The group of girls was also getting out, creating some time for you to get away from Nick and breathe. He was always intense, and he never stopped pushing you. You didn’t necessarily hate it. Really, you knew you liked it, but you could never admit that to him, his behavior would just get worse.

He found you with your back pressed against the door, waiting patiently for him. He’d been staying here for several months; he had the same room because he’d wanted to give you a key. For emergencies, he claimed. If you ever needed a place to get away, even if he wasn’t home. It had only happened a few times, he wouldn’t say a word when he would find you bundled up in his bed. He would just join you under the sheets and make you come several times, at least.

He set his hands on your hips and you looked up to him. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

You woke up that morning just knowing. You were in love with Nick and you were terrified. You didn’t want to be in love, not with him. With his music career taking off, he couldn’t want something serious. You figured this was just him wasting time. When he was an established name, he would go out and find himself a proper partner. It wasn’t you, this shy, small thing with no backbone, terrible parents, and no solid plans for your future.

But why ruin a good thing? You wanted to let it last while you could. You smiled at him and shook your head. “Nothing, really. I missed you.”

He smiled back. “I missed you, too.”

You didn’t live in New York with your father, but you had been visiting a lot more frequently. Your father was thrilled about it, thrilled enough not to want to question it. Your mother took it as an insult and didn’t ask a single question about why. It was honestly the perfect crime.

It had only been three weeks since you’d last been with Nick, you were allowing for less time to pass in between the nights you spent with him. You once went a month and a half, how unimaginable that felt—you knew you wouldn’t be able to do that anymore. You would go crazy without him being able to touch you for six weeks.

“You could stay,” he pointed out. “Here. With me.”

You scoffed. “No, I can’t.”

“You could apply to NYU, I’m sure you’ll get in. You could start building your life over here. If not with me, why not live with your dad?”

This was getting serious and you were worried this conversation would wreck everything. Nick thought he wanted something, but only because he was scared. You didn’t want to uproot your entire life for something fleeting.

“I don’t want to talk about this tonight,” you said quietly.

“Okay. But we will. Later.”

You nodded—a lie. You wouldn’t even be with him much longer. You had breakfast you’re your dad and then you would be on a flight back to your mother’s. “Yeah.”

Smiling, he asked, “Well, what do you want to talk about?”

You shrugged. “I don’t want to talk.”

He hummed. “No? You don’t have more scolding to do?”

“I can wait,” you teased. Your eyes flit to either side just to make sure no one was around. “But right now, I just want you to touch me.”

He bent down just slightly to pick you up by your thighs. You eagerly wrapped yourself around him and pressed your lips to his, kissing him like it’d been years.

He struggled to open the door, but you didn’t seem to mind that you could get caught at any moment, you seemed completely distracted by him. That was his goal, make your time here so good that eventually, you just wouldn’t be able to leave him.

Finally, he managed to get you inside the room. You had it all memorized, even with your eyes closed you knew exactly where he always was. He was leading you down the hallway, past the kitchen and the living area, to the door at the end of the walkway. Past the bathroom, past the dresser full of sheet music and records.

He laid you out on the bed delicately, pulling away so he could stare at you. You moved to pull your skirt up, but he caught your hands in his. “Not yet.”

He started at your feet. He pulled off your shoes and began kissing your calves, a touch that felt so distant through your tights.

You whined. “Daddy.”

“You’re going to be patient, angel.”

And that was that. You never argued with him, rarely disobeyed. You were perfect, you were good. You were, as he so fondly called you, an angel that did everything she was supposed to do. Not just for him, but for everyone. He knew that about you, knew that you never liked to make trouble for anyone. Even your dad, who had been almost completely absent during your childhood, off chasing his current wife. Even your mother, who was mean, unsupportive, and childish. You were sweet as could be, well-behaved, soft-spoken, bright-eyed, and glowing. He thought you were perfect.

Biting your lip, paying close attention to how much you were moving, you watched in near silence as he continued to press his lips up your legs. As soon as his eyes flickered up to yours, your heart was pounding. There was a lot about Nick that you just didn’t understand.

You could look at yourself in the mirror and understand why people thought you were pretty, but of course, you did not think as highly of yourself as Nick thought of you. Alternatively, he could not do the same. He could not understand why you liked looking at him in the mornings, why you liked to trace his features with your fingers, why you spent so much time just kissing his face whenever you got the chance. You were baffled that he could look like that and not know what he did to people.

He blushed a lot. When you accidentally told him, the first time, that you thought he was beautiful—never again would you drink wine with him—and now, all the deliberate times after that. Because unintentional or not, you meant it and you wanted him to know. When you would take him in your mouth and he had his hands at his sides, leaving you to control everything, and when you took so much of him that you would gag and choke, he was permanently flushed. When he played for you, forget it.

He was at the hemline of your skirt and started pushing it up, kissing at the insides of your thighs. You bit down harder on your lip as he continued up, up, up until he kissed your pussy. Over tights and your panties, it was still good enough that you shuddered. You could feel his beard, some random hairs managing to poke into the open spots of your tights. It was a feeling that reminded you of being home, not with either of your parents now, but when they were still together in your first home. Nick was comfort and security, he was warmth and so much raw emotion.

You brought one hand up to press your fingers to your lips. You were so wet that you could feel the material against you was damp. He always knew how to do that to you, how to get you so wanting. And the neighbors always knew when you were there, they would play music because you were so embarrassingly loud, not that he was ever considerate about that. You just wanted to pretend you had some dignity, at least for a while.

He kissed across your thigh and up the side of your hip, back across until he could kiss down the opposite side. You remembered you used to hate when he would do this, when there wasn’t a part of you that he wouldn’t at least devote a moment of attention to. You didn’t hate it now, you noticed it made you a lot more confident. You didn’t care how tight a skirt was around your hips or that a skirt was so short that everyone could see your thighs touching. It wasn’t even his goal and it wasn’t dependent on his interest in you at all, but you knew he was the cause.

You often wondered if he looked at everyone like this. It really hadn’t been long, but sometimes you swore he might feel the same about you. You’d always wrote it off as your age, but how would someone his age honestly fall in love with you? And if he wasn’t, why the hell did he look at you the way he did?

“How many lives have you ruined?”

His eyebrows rose and he pulled his mouth away from you. “I’m sorry?”

“You look at me like that, you kiss me like that—”

“Like what?”

You rolled your eyes. Honestly, you weren’t sure how to put it into words. The last thing you wanted to do was accuse him of acting or pretending. That was one of the few boundary lines with Nick that was quickly established—he didn’t like analysis of his emotions. They were his own and he didn’t want anyone to presume that they knew them better than him. You truly didn’t mind. You’d come from a toxic environment of men who would sooner die than cry and couldn’t healthily express their anger if the world depended on it. “You know like what.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it.” He leaned back down, kissing either knee once. “But I won’t make you, I want you to want to say it.”

First time he’d ever taken that route. He teased you a lot, like challenging your views. And he liked those rare times you could challenge his. You’d both talked and talked until you managed to get to this place where you were both completely comfortable with what you were. He had to compromise on how casual this could seem at times, and you had to compromise on how obscenely intimate it was to you sometimes. And though you both compromised, it was still hard to see the other’s point of view. What was he so scared of with ‘casual’? You, on the other hand, dreaded falling for someone who couldn’t reciprocate.

He reached for your tights and slowly pulled them down. Again, he moved to where he was exposing skin and scattered kisses all over you. He deliberately got as close to your pussy as he could without ever touching you, several times, and enjoyed that you gasped and shivered each time.

He didn’t pull your underwear out of his way before he finally kissed you there. He went on like this, curious to see just how much you could take. You tried not to ask for more, to feed into his ego, and you succeeded for several minutes. You could feel his tongue and his lips, the texture of your panties was slight stimulation, but as time went on, you craved him more.

When you finally broke, your eyes were filled with tears, your hands were shaking as you reached for him, and you couldn’t form a single coherent word. Instead of pulling your panties down and eating your pussy, he moved up your body and removed your sweater and your bra. Again, he was kissing you all over, but you could hardly focus on anything other than your throbbing pussy.

“Daddy, please,” you whimpered.

He moved his mouth up until he could kiss your lips. He settled down on the bed beside you and pulled away, sitting you up a little. You took his cue and shifted up on the bed until you could rest on the headboard.

You watched as his hand reached for you, holding your breath until he was sliding one finger into you. “Fuck, daddy.” Your hips bucked almost immediately, silently begging for more. He added a second finger and you turned to hide your face against his chest.

He curled his fingers slowly, focusing on the sounds you made, the way your body would tense and shudder, and soon enough, he’d found that blissful spot that he knew made you see stars.

You clumsily reached for his pants, taking far too long to get your hands on his thick cock. You felt yourself get so much wetter, remembering just how big he felt inside you. Not that you were experienced when he’d found you, but taking his cock had been so delightfully painful and you kind of liked that he was the first man really stretching you out like that.

“Fuck,” he breathed against the side of your face. “Watch my fingers, angel, watch me fuck you with them.”

You turned down, paying attention to how they moved, and the wet sounds from your pussy. You slowly moved your hand along his cock, wanting—but too shy to ask for—him to cover your body with his cum. He preferred finishing inside you, he liked letting it drip out of you and then filling you back up all over again.

When your breaths turned shorter and your moans became louder, he knew you were so close. He moved his fingers faster, brought his thumb down to your clit. Your whole body was shaking, and he could feel how desperate you were because your hand around him tightened.

“You wanna come, angel?”

“Please, daddy,” you blurted out. “Please, please make me come.”

He pulled your hand off his cock and kissed you when you made a noise of protest. His opposite hand never even faltered as he explained, “Daddy’s coming inside you. Keep begging.”

“Please, I want to come, daddy. I want to come on your fingers, I want you to get me wet enough so my tight, little pussy can take your huge cock.”

“What a filthy mouth, angel. Where’d you learn to talk like that? Been watching the videos I’ve been sending you?”

“Yes, daddy. I watch every single one and I touch myself, thinking about how much I miss you inside me.”

“You have no idea how much I miss having your pussy wrapped around me when you’re gone.”

You finished with a sharp cry, using your free hand to try to push his touch away, but he was so much stronger than you. Add to the fact that you really didn’t want him to stop, if you could stay there in bed with him, feeling that for the rest of your life, you would.

You almost instantly rolled over on top of him, kissing him as you moved up his body until you were straddling him. He set his hands on your hips, holding you steady as you slid down on him. As you adjusted, he let his hands wander to your breasts. You were still shaking, panting, trying to come down from your high but you were addicted to pleasing Nick.

You rolled your hips, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. You needed to see him naked, coming here without seeing all of him would be an absolute waste. He helped you get the shirt off after a moment and your hands roamed all over his torso.

He took your hips again, using his hold on you to pick up the pace just a little. You let your head fall back, he would want to watch your body anyway. You brought your arms back and rested your hands on the mattress around his legs. He had to fuck you just a little harder from this angle to see your breasts move with every thrust, but you were okay with that.

You always knew when he was close because his fingers would dig into your skin and he always did everything he could to get as close to you as he possibly could. This time, he sat up and pulled you up so your chest was flush against his. You continued bouncing up and down on his cock, mewling and whimpering because you knew he loved those sounds.

“Are you close, daddy?”

“Yeah, angel, keep going just like that.”

“Tell me when you’re really close.”

He faltered for just a second, processing your odd request, but did not argue.

You set your hands to his face, dragging him in for a kiss, open-mouthed, tongues, moaning obscenely for one another. As he was distracted, you unwound his arms from your back and held them flat on the mattress by his forearms.

“I’m close,” he informed after turning his head just slightly, breathing heavily on your skin. “I’m so fucking close.”

You started moving quickly, pulling off of him and crawling back down the bed. He was stunned silent until you bent down and took his wet cock, messy from your pussy, in your mouth. You’d only just closed your lips around him when both of his hands settled on the back of your head to hold you down. He only needed to jerk his hips up a few times before he was filling your mouth.

He kept you there until his high had drifted away, and you never once complained. You swallowed the cum that you could, but some of his had slipped out of your mouth, and sucked softly until he let you up.

As soon as you were sitting up, he was wrapping his arms around you and pulling you on top of him. Still trying to catch his breath, it was clear that he wasn’t letting you go for quite some time. Because no one would expect Nick to want to cuddle after sex.

And because his brain was not functioning at its best, he was simultaneously attempting to kick off his pants and pull the sheets over the two of you. But you weren’t there to be unsupportive, you simply laid on his chest and tried not to laugh.

After he’d managed it, which had to have taken about five minutes, he turned off the lamp on the bedside table and stretched over to do the same on the other side. He once again wrapped his arms around you and kissed the top of your head. “Fuck, I love you.”

You weren’t sure how to respond, so all you did was lay there. He didn’t miss a beat, he just started running one of his hands through your hair and then nothing. Not another word.

Fuck.

You only woke up because Nick was moving around so much. As quiet as he tried to be and as softly as he tried to move out from under you, he always failed at it. When he realized he’d woken you up again, he froze.

You grabbed one of the pillows and yanked it over his face as you climbed out of bed. You didn’t want to have to get up because that meant that you would soon have to leave. You grabbed your phone out of your bag on the way to the bathroom, not bothering to get dressed. Nick loved seeing you walk around the room naked, and that was why you always ignored that nervous nagging feeling that told you to cover up.

“Sorry,” he called out.

You didn’t respond.

After you brushed your teeth, you opened the door. You heard him moving around the bedroom as you were performing your simple morning skincare routine. He always did that, just waited until you were done so he could get in. He liked making you watch in the mirror.

And right on cue, Nick entered the bathroom, stopping just inches behind you. You didn’t turn, you merely watched him in the mirror and waited. He wrapped his arms around you, and you noticed the single red rose he was holding. He started at your lips, letting the flower trail down, then over your nipples, and down just above your navel.

You shivered when he pulled it away, offering it to you. With a smile you were looking down to hide, you took the rose from him.

He kissed the side of your face, arms wrapping loosely around your waist He pressed one hand to your stomach, and you were reminded of how much you loved his stupid hands. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m sorry about what I said last night. I know it was…a lot.”

Yeah, it was. You’d built it up in your mind as some terrifying thing that you would never want to hear, especially from him, but when he said it, it just wasn’t like that. When he said it, it made you feel safe. It made you feel loved. “But did you mean it?”

“Only if you’re not going to run away.”

You finally looked up in the mirror, meeting his gaze. “Maybe I won’t.”

He arched an eyebrow.

“And maybe I love you back.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe,” you confirmed. “And maybe I’m even considering staying.”

He perked up at that, turning you around quickly to face him. “Tell me what I need to do or say and I will.”

You brought the rose up and set it to his lips, smirking again.

He narrowed his eyes.

All you did was shrug. “Not sure yet, but you have all day to convince me.”

“I thought you were leaving today.”

You set the rose down on the counter. “Changed my mind.”

He was beaming as he picked you up and sat you on the counter. “That means you’ve already decided to stay.”

“I never said that.”

“I’m not letting you leave. Ever.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop your smile. “I have to go home, you know…and pack.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Wrapping your arms around his neck, you smiled. “Probably a good idea to let my mom meet my daddy.”

“Please don’t make those jokes in front of your parents.”

You snorted. “Oh, now you want to be a gentleman?”

“Always am, angel. Open your legs and I’ll prove it.” He spread your thighs wider as he got down to his knees. He pulled you to the edge of the counter and with his eyes on yours, he took your pussy with his mouth.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “But this means you have to stop smoking.”

He pulled back, narrowing his eyes at you. “Now, seriously?”

You buried both hands in his hair and pulled him back in.

chris tags:

@onetwo3000 @chris-evans-indian-fanfic @donutloverxo @kleohoneyao3 @cevans-fics @gotnofucks​

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 XI

Warnings: noncon/rape, forced oral, violence, mentions of pregnancy.

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You’re journey is perilous.

Note: Thanks everyone for being so enthused about this fic. I love Loki! And I’m glad to be back on it.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

You weren’t certain when but you were taken from the cellar in the dead of night. You barely stood on your own as Magnus uncovered a cart of barrels reaking of ale and snarled for you to lay in the space between them. The prince, shrouded in a grey cloak, helped you up and tossed the same smelly blanket over you. You shivered as snowflakes gathered in the creases of the wool and your patchy tunic and loose trousers offered little shield from the cold.

You had missed the first snowfall. It brought back hazy memories. A girl you once knew, Gilla, and her hand-sewn boots kicking through the powder. You curled up on your side and held your stomach. You were still in disbelief and as it were, the men were undeterred by your change. That life you had before seemed further and further away.

“Keep quiet, pet,” Thor girded as he gripped your ankle through the blanket, “I’ve given my leave to keep you silent in any way necessary.” He squeezed until you looked at him through the bleak, moonless dark, “Think of the child.”

You uttered some instinctual acquiescence and dropped your head. Your teeth chattered and you were shrouded entirely as the wagon was covered once more. You heard their voices, hushed and hard to decipher as they moved around the cart.

“He knows…. cannot say…” the words swirled behind your closed eyes. It was the first you’d laid down in what they claimed was weeks. You were so very tired. “Short rests… old roads…”

You felt the cart shift under a sudden weight and a horse nickered as its heavy hoof stamped the snow. A slap on its hind and a final word from the prince, a grunt in return from the deceptive guard, and the wheels jolted into motion. You were lulled by the movement, the soft rumble of the wood beneath you. You drifted off in the eerie silence of the city as you were secreted between the kegs.

Your dreams were distant and dull, tinted by the sounds around you. The grind of the axle, the occasional grumble of your driver, the spitting of the trotting horse, the muffled slosh of ale beside you. When you woke, you were as cold as before and you rolled onto your back as the chain between your shackles stretched across your middle. The cover glowed with daylight and you heard the stirring of the winter time critters who had not retreated to a seasonal sleep.

You slipped in and out of consciousness. You were awoken once by your keeper, he tossed you a heel of bread and a stein of milk as he took his own meal at the foot of the cart. He didn’t share the cheese or dried meat from his pack. Your stomach growled greedily as you devoured your rations and laid back down.

The wagon bounced along the winding roads, you didn’t know where you were headed. You were rocked by the uneven ground and pondered slipping out from beneath the cover and absconding through the snow. You had no boots however, only cloth wrapped around your feet. And you were weak, so weak.

As it grew dark again, the cart slowed and stilled. You didn’t move as Magnus jumped down and caused the wagon to shake as he did. He rounded to the tail and noisily tapped one of the kegs and you heard the first droplet spill into the snow. He filled his skin with the pungent alcohol and you listened to his thirsty and thick gulps. He replaced the stopper and belched as he crawled up beneath the leather cover.

He nudged you over until there was space for him. He pushed the blanket away from your hips as you rolled onto your side. You reached, clumsily as the chain caught your wrist, and tried to pull the wool back over you. He smacked your hand and hooked his fingers under the top of your trousers.

“It’s fuckin’ cold,” he growled as he pushed the trousers to your ankles with his toe. “Need to warm up, eh.”

You sniffed and squeezed your eyes shut. His scent surrounded you, his warmth too as he pressed against you from behind. He shoved his arm under you and wrapped it around your neck, the thick muscles forcing your head up against his shoulder. He opened his breeches impatiently and wiggled his cock free behind you.

He was rough as he felt around your ass, kneading you roughly as he lingered at your ring. He pushed his thumb against your asshole but snorted and slid his hand further between your thighs. He prodded blindly against your entrance, poking you painfully several times before sinking into you. You whined and his arm tightened around your neck.

“Shut up, bitch,” he moved his hips between his gristled breaths, “Stubborn… think you’d learned by now.”

His intrusion was painful and your body aided little as you were mostly dry. Your walls burned around his thick member and you arched against him to ease the fullness. He breathed into your scalp as he pleasured himself in your pain.

He stopped and trembled. He brought his other arm around your stomach and rolled onto his back, taking you with him as he lifted you atop him. You groaned in pain as your hips ached and he grabbed your knees, bending your legs as he planted his feet and angled himself beneath you.

The trousers fell away from your left angle as he splayed you and rutted into you from below. You clamped your lips shut as you tried not to cry out. You clutched your hand over your chest as he moved your body against his.

“A cunt. That’s all you are.” He hissed, “You think the king fucking cares about you or that pathetic whelp. He’ll find another whore; a prettier whore.”

You bit your lip as your chest swelled. You couldn’t deny his words and couldn’t say you ever thought Loki wanted you for anything besides his own whims, but it only made your circumstance more torturous. From one man to the next, you were a slab of flesh to be twisted and molded to their use.

His hand slipped from your leg and he pushed it against your cunt. He spread your folds as he hammered into you, holding in grunts that nestled in his chest. He lifted his hand and slapped your pussy so that it stung. The sound of the slap made you gasp and he did it again.

“That’s it, bitch,” he snarled, “Make me cum.”

You whimpered as he continued to slap you, your clit reverberating with each strike. His heart pounded as he finally held his hand between your legs and curled his fingers into your flesh, framing his cock as it slid in and out of you.

“You’ll be filled with me by the time we arrive,” he sneered and spasmed as his voice fizzled with his climax. “Shit!”

You felt his hot seed burst inside of you and he let himself down as his legs slid straight. He panted heavily and pinched your thigh gruffly. He pulled out of you and played with his cum as it dripped out of you. He spread it up your cunt and wiped his fingers on your tunic. He hummed and shoved you off of him.

“Clean me up,” he grabbed the back of your neck and forced you up. “I can’t sleep like this.”

Reluctantly, you moved down, keeping low under the leather shroud, and bent over him. You rested your shackled hands on his hip and gripped him tentatively. You took him in your mouth and held back a gag at the taste of him. You glided up and down his length a few times before you drew away. Content, he waved you off and tucked himself back into his breeches.

“Now lay the fuck down,” he pulled you down by the back of your tunic. “I’m fucking tired.”

🐍

You were once more roused by the motion of the wheels. The snow crunched beneath them and you were once more huddled and freezing beneath your meagre blanket. You listened to the horse and the silence of the white plains around you; at least you imagined they were plains. Perhaps there were trees, tall sentinels to witness your fate.

You sat up as far as you could and leaned against a keg. You felt sick again. The tunic rubbed uncomfortably against your tender breasts and you felt around for the oat biscuit you’d saved from your last meal. You chewed on it but nearly choked as the wagon suddenly lurched.

The cart veered and you listened. It was some time before the sound of hooves came clearer as they stamped across the snow. You heard the howl of hounds and the voices of men. Your driver swore and the cart halted all together.

You felt his weight leave the vehicle and heard the whisper of metal. Snap, snap, the leather broke easily against the blade. The horse whinnied in panic and Magnus demanded that it run. The horse obeyed and the wind whistled around the sword as you tried to imagine the scene. The crack of steel against steel and the cry of an unseen man.

Your captor’s flight was impeded but not entirely as you heard your accosters call for him to be caught. The hooves continued, fading into the puffs of powder. You braced yourself and buried your face in your hands. A party of thieves would find you and what worse could they do? A new prison, a new sentence.

You rocked back and forth. Perhaps they might kill you. That was the only swift escape. You listened as low orders were exchanged outside and footsteps neared the end of the cart. You didn’t look as the end of the cover was unstrapped and rolled up. Not even as the wood groaned beneath new weight. 

Gentle fingers touched your shoulder. A soft voice startled you. Your name was spoken with a care which felt unreal. “It’s me.” The boy said and you raised your head. His rosy cheeks glowed beneath a wool cap that let out wisps of his carrot-coloured hair, “It’s Hal.”

You blinked as him numbly and grasped his hand without thinking. You squeezed to make certain he was real. He winced but did not pull away.

“We found you,” he said, “Come on. I must take you back.”

“Back?” You uttered and your stomach sank. “To the king?”

“Yes,” he rubbed your shoulder, “King Loki.”

“No, no, no,” you shook your head, “He will… he will be angry. He will think I ran. He will hurt me. He does hurt me. As they have.”

“The king is not angry,” Hal assured you, “He has fretted for weeks over you. And when he has caught up to his treacherous guard, he will make certain he suffers for his crimes.”

“He… what do you mean?”

“The king is in pursuit of Magnus right now. He bid me find you so that he might catch his betrayer first and bring him to justice.” Hal trailed his hand down your arm and took yours from beneath the wool blanket, “Come. We must get you warm. You are freezing.”

You sniffed and let him guide you to the end of the cart. You kept the blanket around you and an armored man approached. You winced. Hal stopped you from stepping down into the snow. He bid the guard get another blanket and ordered another to stoke a fire. A pit was made close by as two of the guards attached their own horses in place of the one taken by their quarry.

“I will remain with you,” Hal said as a kettle was hung on a makeshift spit over the fire. “Once you’ve something warm in you, we are to move to Alfres Castle and the king shall find us their.”

Just a boy, you thought, but he was a comfort nonetheless. You’d never thought to meet him again but there he was. You nodded and accepted the second blanket. It was thicker and lined with lambskin. You hugged it to you and rested your chin against it. You were heartened to no longer be trapped in Magnus’ grasp but you feared your return to Loki’s.

🐍

The castle was only an hour’s ride from where the king’s party found you. Upon your arrival, you were ushered inside and more guards stood by the castle’s gate and doors in expectation. Hal guided you through the halls and to a chamber at the top of a winding staircase. He lit the hearth and brought you a basin and cloth to wash. He left a clean dress, this one with full length sleeves and skirts.

He returned, when you were clean and dressed, with a platter of food. You ate without hesitation and found yourself painfully full. You sat close to the fire, unable to shake the chill of your days spent in the cellar and then in the back of the wagon. You sat in silence but the boy didn’t seem to mind.

“You don’t have to stay,” you said, “I recall the king did not like me speaking with you.”

“The king told me to remain close until he has returned,” Hal shrugged. “If he takes issue, I will make certain it is with me.”

You watched him thoughtfully. “You are brave.” You said.

“Am I?” He wondered. “I don’t think so. I am obedient.”

You chewed your lip and looked away. “Well, I think so.” You muttered.

“You should lay down. I can bring a hot brick to warm your feet.” He offered. “The king might not be back until the morning.”

“What will he do… to-- to--” You quivered and hugged yourself to keep from shaking. Your thighs ached as you thought of the night before; of those which had marked the last month of torment.

“He will kill him.” Hal said coldly. “And better for it. I never did trust that brute.”

You stayed silent as you raised your head. The boy watched you and you saw the pity in his eyes.

“I followed him one night. I warned the king that Magnus was acting odd. He would be sent out to search for you and he’d returned with some lame excuse. So I went after him and found him sneaking beneath a butcher’s shop. I told his majesty but when he thought to look for himself, you were already gone.” Hal leaned forward and poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle you hadn’t touched. “Magnus didn’t return either. He gave himself away.”

He sat back and drank. He winced at the taste and frowned into the cup. “Huh, I always thought wine would be sweet.”

“What would you have done if he had caught you?”

“Well, I’d probably be dead,” he set aside the cup. “I didn’t think of it though I should have.”

“And the king… why did he want to find me? Was he not mad? Surely, he thought I had fled.” You urged.

“He did. At first. I did, too.” He stood and sighed, “I wouldn’t worry for what he thought before. You should sleep. I will have the warmer brought up and you will rest.”

“And will you?” You countered. “You’ve done much today.”

“For a short time, I think,” he smiled. “Your questions do make me rather sleepy.”

He laughed at his own quip and you let out a weak chuckle. His boyish humour amused you as it broke through the veneer he fought hard to keep up.

“Thank you, Hal.” You slowly stood from the chair.

He bowed his head and strode to the door. He left you to the crackling of the wire and the winter gales blowing against the shuttered windows. You went to the bed and hid beneath the covers. You never wanted to move from there. Ever.

🐍

Through your deep slumber, coaxed by the warmth of the fire and the blankets around you, you heard the door. Soft footsteps moved around the room, brighter than when you’d dozed off, and distant movements flitted with the shadows. A log clacked into the hearth and the flames lit the space as your lashes fluttered sleepily.

You felt a figure sit on the edge of the bed and a hand rubbed your arm through the layers of blankets. You murmured and rolled onto your back as you gazed up at your new visitor. Loki’s face was serious and sombre. There was a hint of pink at the tip of his nose and along his cheeks. He had just come in from the cold.

“I have failed. Both of us.” He said. “Magnus cannot be found.”

You pushed your arm from beneath the covers and grasped his wrist. “Magnus…” you said weakly, “And…”

“Shhh,” he hushed. “You are tired. I am too.”

He squeezed your shoulder and stood, your arm falling as he drew away from your touch. You watched him as he removed his tunic, then his breeches. He kept his undershorts on as he stretched before the fire and basked in its glow for only a moment. He retreated from the hearth and disappeared around the other side of the bed.

He pulled up the corner of the covers and slid beneath. He sidled closer to you. He seemed hesitant as he turned on his side and watched you. You closed your eyes as your uncertainty made your nerves wild.

“You didn’t run?” He asked at last.

You opened one eye and looked at him. You shook your head and closed your eye again. “Not from you,” you croaked.

“Yes, my brother and his games,” he said. “I will make certain he never plays one with you again.”

Your lips parted. Your nose crinkled. Did he not know? You wondered if you should say something. Surely, he must have caught on.

“Thor,” you said quietly.

“Yes, Thor,” He confirmed as if you were dull. “Such a pest but I must put up with it.”

He shifted closer and carefully pushed his arm over you. He let it down gently and went rigid as it settled across your stomach. He pulled back and spread his long fingers over your middle. He sucked in a sharp breath and retracted his hand as he pushed himself to sit up. He pulled the blanket away from your torso.

Your eyes snapped open. He stared at your stomach as you crossed your arms over it and tried to hide. He caught your arm and pulled it down to your side. His eyes flicked up to yours.

“You’re…” He looked down and you saw the calculation on his brow, “It must be…”

You nodded. “Yours.”

He went quiet and slowly lowered himself beside you once more. He nestled close and drew the blankets back up over your bodies. He hugged you to him as the heat of his flesh seeped into you.

“I will find Magnus and I will make him beg for death,” he said.

You gulped as his fingers swirled over your stomach. “You’re not angry with me?” You asked.

“Perhaps for not telling me when I did come in,” he said, “But for your condition, no.”

“I…” You began but could not figure what to say.

“Sleep,” he bid. “It is a concern for tomorrow.”

🐍

Loki stirred as a knock came at the door. A pounding that frightened you and had you sitting up in terror. The king waved you back down as he took a robe from a hook and wrapped himself in the dark fabric. He went to the door and opened it with a grumble, asking who it was.

“Brother,” Thor’s voice made your blood cold. You pulled up the covers as if to hide beneath them. “We looked all night. He is nowhere to be found.”

“Mmm,” Loki huffed, “Well, come in.”

He beckoned the prince inside and you only watched their shadows as you dared not move. You felt eyes upon you but didn’t look back. Loki went to the hearth and poked the embers with the long iron. He added a quarter log and stepped away.

“You haven’t an idea of his direction?” Loki asked.

“North.” Thor said plainly. “I can only assume he’s headed for a port. His only hope is to be away from the country.”

“As if I will not sniff him out,” Loki spat and a chair scraped on the stone floor. You heard his deep and angry breaths. “She is in condition. He endangered royal issue. He is a traitor.”

Thor cleared his throat and sat too. “And she is… far? You are certain--”

“A woman does not show after a month and she is growing.” Loki rebuffed.

“Only a bastard,” Thor remarked, “That is trouble itself.”

“A bastard. Illegitimate. My betrothed needn’t worry her precious royal cunt.” Loki slithered. “And you are not one to lecture me on marital loyalty. How are Lady Jane and your new daughter?”

“Healthy. She expects she might be ready to visit court in the spring.” Thor said.

“Ah, and ruin your fun?” Loki taunted. “The baker’s daughter isn’t very subtle.”

“Oh, but she is fun,” Thor chortled. “I give her a pretty bauble and she’s got me in her mouth as she wears it ‘round her throat.”

“Perhaps my bastard might have a friend of similar bearing,” Loki mused.

“She is cautious. She says her father would murder her.” Thor returned. “And if it came to it, how could I know it was mine? These peasants… you cannot say where they lay.”

“Mmhmm,” Loki tutted, “I suppose you are right.”

“Well, brother,” Thor stood, “Speaking of the wife, am I permitted to depart now?”

“My men will continue the search. I did promise you a respite.” Loki said, “I will see you back in the capital.”

“After Wintertide,” Thor affirmed, “Jane would have my balls if I was not home for the occasion. Not now with the little one.”

“Very well. Away before this snow has us all trapped.” Loki trilled.

The door opened and closed. The hinges made your blood boil and your spine rigid. You sat up and stared at the door. You were in a trance. Horror bubbled in your veins. 

“L-L-Loki,” you said the king’s name without thinking; no title, no courtesies, but pure fear as you gripped the covers in your fists. “He--He--- Your brother---”

“Does think me stupid.” Loki rose and came to you. He coaxed you back down and unknotted your hand from around the quilt. “He did not find Magnus because that little shit would tell it all in an instant if he thought it would save his own head.” Loki growled as he twined his fingers through yours. “I know everything, mouse, but one rat at a time.”

[whumpingcrow]

Pt. 23 "Darling Boy Self Destructs"

CW: whump aftermath, PTSD/nightmares, conditioned whumpee, self harm (graphic), injury description, blood, whumpee refusing to eat, dehumanizing language/themes, discussion of past abuse/noncon, tourettes/ticcing, panic attack, past foster care mention, lots of angsty caretaker, cute little bandaging up fluff (let me know if i missed anything!)

Leo had to keep reminding Tyson that recovery wasn't linear, that sometimes it got worse before it got better. And most days it seemed to be getting far worse. Tyson was patient, for the most part, he understood that what Elias was working through was painful and confusing and it was going to take time to adjust. But there were some days that patience was spread too thin, and Tyson found himself breaking his own rules when he desperately needed a quick fix, bitterness lingering on his tongue for hours after he said the things he hated saying to Elias. He was in love with him, and it disgusted him to have to speak to him in the patronizing way that people often spoke to dogs. The way that August spoke to Elias. Quite a few times he had to call Allen or Leo over to help him when he couldn't handle it himself, and he felt guilty for not being able to help Elias on his own. It was stressful, but it worked, and usually the situation de-escalated before there was any harm done.

Usually. Today was an exception.

It was going to be a rough morning, Tyson could already tell when he woke up and Elias wasn't next to him, but rather asleep across the room, back pressed against the wall and all of his limbs tucked close to his body to protect himself. When did he get there, why didn't Tyson wake up when he left? With a huff, he stood from the bed and knelt in front of him, looking at him for a moment. In the rare moments that Elias was sleeping like this, Tyson just wanted Elias to sleep for as long as he could so he could watch him. He looked so at peace, his face serene and his body still.

It was getting late though, and Tyson figured it would be better to wake him easily now than to wait for a nightmare to do it. Apparently, he was wrong about that, because the second Tyson's hand brushed against his shoulder, Elias was bolting upright, eyes blown and panicked. Tyson didn't know he was only used to being woken up out of a peaceful sleep to receive punishment or to be used, but the horrified look on his face said enough.

"Elias, it's ok," he grumbled tiredly, wiping his eyes to try and wake himself up a little. "It's time to wake up, love."

Elias pulled his knees to his chest, looking up at Tyson like he had no idea who he was and was afraid to be near him. This was customary now, Elias always woke up disoriented and confused, no recognition on his face, only fear. It made Tyson sad, sure, but he had been getting used to it, and it only lasted a minute anyway. When the minute passed and Elias seemed to relax a fraction, Tyson allowed himself to stretch and yawn a little.

"Why were you sleeping on the floor?" He asked him, keeping his tone light and conversational, so Elias wouldn't feel like he was in trouble.

Elias was silent, so silent that Tyson glanced at his shoulders to see if he was breathing still. Finally, he cleared his throat a little, looking down at Tyson's hands. They weren't balled up into fists, weren't shaking in anger, weren't even reaching for him. He was safe.

"It's...the bed is too nice." He knew that was the wrong answer from the way Tyson closed his eyes and took a deep breath. But it was the truth! At some point in the night he woke up and realized it, and, through his tired haze, thought that it only made sense to go sleep on the floor like the animal he was.

Things like this had been happening a lot since he'd been home. Tyson didn't understand what caused it, but Elias would suddenly start acting the way he was forced to with August, no matter how many times Tyson told him that he was home and safe and he didn't have to do any of that here, he could be himself, not August's pet. Tyson was too upset at the thought to ever admit it out loud, but he was starting to think that Elias didn't know how to be himself anymore.

Tyson decided the argument wasn't worth it right then, Elias was too freaked out to understand and he was too tired to explain. "You wanna help me make breakfast?" He asked him. Elias seemed glad he wasn't going to pester him about being on the floor again, and he stood up and followed close behind Tyson to the kitchen.

It was alright again for a little bit, Elias was rather quiet and low energy, but he did everything he was asked to help with cooking, otherwise he stood poised, a few feet to the side of Tyson in case he needed him again. It was sort of bumming him out that Elias didn't realize that "help me cook breakfast" really meant "spend time with me in the kitchen, stand close to me, and make jokes and messes, like we used to do."

When Tyson looked over at him, his heart melted at the way Elias perked up to await instructions. His tired eyes were focused on him, he was leaning forward expectantly, clinging onto the words that Tyson hadn't even said yet. He smiled at him, setting down the spatula he was holding.

"Come here, Eli," he mumbled, holding his hand out toward him. Elias only shuffled forward a few steps, suddenly his posture was dragged down to what reminded Tyson of someone headed to execution. "You look so beautiful over there, I just want a hug."

Now, Elias smiled sheepishly at him, nodding to himself before walking into Tyson's arms. He pressed himself close, breathing in his scent as he hugged him.

When Tyson set breakfast on the table and instructed Elias to sit with him, things went downhill again. Elias did sit down, only because he was told to, but he couldn't force himself to touch the food in front of him. He tried to tell himself that Tyson would be upset with him again, like he was every time Elias couldn't convince himself that he deserved food, and that Tyson wanted him to eat, but each time he almost picked up his fork, he heard a nagging voice telling him that he wasn't deserving of the food in front of him, he wasn't a person, he hadn't been good enough to be rewarded with a warm meal.

"Baby," Tyson tried, his voice strained and on the very edge of irritation, "why haven't you eaten anything yet?"

Elias sat straighter, guilt turning his blood icy. "I...I'm sorry..."

"No." Tyson grumbled. Elias flinched at the firmness to his usual soft voice, then again when Tyson pushed his plate closer to him. "You have to eat, Elias. You've been home for days and I haven't seen you eat one time."

He really wasn't supposed to, this had to be some sort of test. But Tyson sounded more frustrated with him than he had been the whole time he'd been back, and he was pushing the food at him, maybe it was a test to see how well he could listen? He reached forward and picked up the fork with his shaking hand, stabbing a potato onto the end of it. It looked so good, he found his stomach aching against his ribcage as he looked at it. And he was so hungry, and it looked and smelled simply amazing.

Much too amazing for him. Giving food this good to him was wasteful, the equivalent to throwing it on the ground. August had told him that once, when he'd asked to have some expensive looking dish at one of the parties. He told him that, then told him that if he was really hungry to go do another line of coke so he didn't feel it anymore.

Tyson looked over when Elias's fork clattered back onto the glass plate, loud enough to almost cover the pitiful whimper he let out. The food was still untouched, apart from the single bite still on the fork that Elias never allowed past his lips. Tyson didn't want to be angry, he knew that this was hard for Elias, he could hear Leo telling him that this was just a small setback, but how could he not be frustrated? He wanted his Elias back, not this ghost who couldn't even have a meal with him. Why wasn't he willing to work towards that? To try, at the very least?

"Christ, Elias, come on." He groaned, dropping his fork as well. He didn't exactly feel hungry anymore, either.

"I-I am so...so so so sorry-" Elias began to choke out.

"I don't want you to be sorry!" Tyson snapped at him. Regret slammed into him immediately, he hated himself when Elias's hand flew to cover his mouth so that his strangled, terrified sob wouldn't be so loud, it made his chest ache with guilt. "Eli... I don't want you to be sorry. I just want you to get better."

Elias didn't seem to hear him, frozen in his seat with tears streaming down his cheeks and onto his fingers that were pressed tight to his lips to mute himself. He couldn't make himself look anywhere but the abandoned plate of food in front of him. He was sheet pale, like he was about to be sick from his fear. Tyson wanted to punch himself for making him that scared.

"Baby I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled, I'm sorry." He reached out and brushed his fingertips against Elias's shoulder blade, frowning when he nearly threw himself out of the chair to get away from the touch, stumbling away from him on wobbling legs. Tyson couldn't get a word in before Elias was shooting off down the hall, the sound of the bathroom door shutting and locking told him that Elias needed to be alone, at least for a moment.

That moment somehow stretched into half an hour. Tyson cleaned the kitchen, then realized Elias was still hidden away, and he went to check on him. All he heard when he knocked and asked if Elias was ok was a few mangled sobs and some sniffling. He didn't pry anymore, didn't want to set him off more than he had already. But then the half hour turned to a full hour, then two, and after nearly four hours of radio silence from Elias, Tyson was seriously losing hope. So he finally decided to swallow his pride and call Allen.

Another 25 minutes passed, and Allen finally showed up, surprisingly alone. He always came with Leo, and Tyson prayed that the two of them would be able to do this without him. Elias was still locked away in the bathroom, Tyson felt like he might vomit out of worry. He leaned against the wall across from the bathroom, watching Allen push himself close against the door before he tapped his knuckles gently against it.

"Elias?" He called out softly. "It's Allen. I brought you some cigarettes." There was no answer, just as Tyson was expecting, and they both deflated a bit. "Come on, pal, you've been in there a long time. Open up now."

Even though his voice was gentle and coaxing, there was no luck. Tyson rubbed the frustration out of his face, doing what he could to calm himself down before he kicked the door open. Allen looked back at him with a hopeless, worried frown, and it didn't ease Tyson's fears. He didn't want to scare Elias even more by breaking down the door, not when he was already so afraid, so he instead stood next to Allen against the door to try and lure him out.

"Elias I want you to open the door, baby," he pleaded, voice on the edge of breaking. "Open...open the door, sweetheart."

Allen turned to look at him, obviously surprised. Tyson never said that, usually if the ruined nickname had to be used, Allen was the only one who could do it, the only one who could handle seeing Elias slip easily into the conditioned pet of a person August made him. It must have been bad, he realized, if it was enough to make Tyson pull out that trick.

But it worked, just like always, a tiny click of the door unlocking telling them that he was allowing them entry, and they looked at each other in astonishment for a second, in disbelief that it was so simple. Four, almost five hours of begging and bargaining and all it took at the end was for one of them to call him sweetheart.

Before they could revel in the relief of being allowed in, they were hit with another, worse, bout of panic once the door was open. There was Elias, propped up only by the wall, his legs tucked under him so that he was on his knees. His whole body was pale and trembling horribly, he was only able to make out tiny, panicked gasps, wide eyes pouring tears as he looked between Allen and Tyson.

On top of it all, he had soaked himself, his clothes, and the area around him in blood, spilling out of several gashes up and down his arms. One of Tyson's razors was on the ground next to him, and he felt so fucking stupid for not hiding them after the last time Elias found one and used it.

Elias said nothing, looking up at Tyson with his horrified gaze, trying his best to even out his breathing. No matter how much effort he put into it, though, he could only inhale in short spurts, and exhaling seemed near impossible. There was so much blood, it was all over the place, what had he done? What had he done?! He began choking out broken sobs again, squeezing his eyes shut as Tyson moved toward him quickly.

The towels were slightly rough against his skin, and Tyson whispered out an apology when Elias grimaced a little. He slowly convinced himself to open his eyes, and he felt sick when he saw the pale blue hand towels stained a deep, velvety red from his blood. So instead he tipped his head up to look at Tyson, his eyes hooded and hazy, mouth slightly open through his unsteady breathing.

"Allen," Tyson said suddenly, "there's um...a first aid kit in the hall closet, could you grab it?" His voice was shaking slightly, even as he tried hard to keep his composure. He didn't look away from Elias as he spoke, and surprisingly Elias was able to hold his gaze, through the foggy cover of blood loss.

When Allen returned to the bathroom with the box of bandages, Elias felt so much worse. He watched Tyson's face fall into a disappointed, focused glare as he cleaned and bandaged him up. At some point, Allen asked if he should call an ambulance, and Tyson had to seriously consider the idea before looking up at him and shaking his head, telling him in a hushed voice “not yet, just give me a second.”

The amount of blood was misleading to how bad the injuries were, Tyson couldn't find any that might need actual medical attention. He wrapped the worst of the damage up in some gauze, and then gently pressed down bandaids on the smaller ones.

"Why did you do this, baby?" He asked Elias, looking back up at him to see the tears pooling in his dulled down blue eyes. He frowned at how broken he looked, how sad and hopeless his stare was.

"I wa-was being...being horrible. I made you upset. Had to be punished-" a weakened sob cut his sentence off, and Tyson sighed heavily with how pitiful he sounded.

"No, love. No, you're a good boy, Eli." This time it came off of his tongue surprisingly easy, probably because of the simple knowledge that Elias was covered in blood and it would make him feel better. He was right, Elias's eyes fluttered closed and he whined desperately in response. "You're so perfect, Elias. I'm so sorry I was short tempered with you." As he spoke, he reached up and gently wiped away some of the tears streaming down his pale cheeks, holding him close.

Elias must've lost a lot more blood than he'd thought, because the next second he was waking up on the couch, a heavy blanket draped over his shoulders and a slight throbbing behind his eyes. He was freezing cold, shivering, even, despite the blanket, and he found himself looking around for Tyson anxiously. When he finally found him, he reached out a trembling hand toward him to try and get his attention. He was sitting at the kitchen table, a few pieces of paper splayed out in front of him and his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Ty," he breathed, his voice weaker than he was expecting it to be, "can you please come here?"

"What is it, darling?" Tyson answered, already standing up and crossing the room to Elias. Once he was standing in front of him, Elias reached up and grabbed the bottom of his shirt.

"Cold..." He whined, his cheeks flushed beautifully from just waking up, much more healthy looking now that he wasn't bleeding on the ground.

"Do you want another blanket?"

Elias leaned closer to him, until he could rest his face against Tyson's stomach. "H-hold me, p..." He trailed off as Tysons hands snaked around his shoulders gently, then finished with a "please", just as sing-song and precious as always, so Tyson sat down with him.

He was gentle as he pulled Elias close to his chest. He placed kisses into his hair and stroked his arms over the blanket until he couldn't feel Elias shivering anymore, and then he simply held him. They were both quiet, simply enjoying being close to each other, wrapped up in the others arms. But it didn't last long before Elias was sucking in a pained breath and sitting up. He faced Tyson, sitting cross legged, lost in the huge blanket slung over his shoulders. He was only able to meet Tyson's gaze for a split second before he dropped his face down and instead focused on the only visible bandaid that was on his wrist.

"I'm sorry I made you mad," he mumbled, "and I'm sorry I hurt myself."

Tyson reached out to adjust the blanket for Elias, mostly so he could have an excuse to keep his hands on him without outright touching him, and sighed. "Eli, I need you to know that absolutely none of this is your fault."

"But-"

Tyson hushed him, tilting his face up so that they were finally looking at each other. "August is a monster. And I know he got into your head, I know he forced all of these awful ideas and fucked up rules on you, but that's not your fault. What he did to you was...it was evil, Elias. It was senseless, unprovoked evil."

He could tell that Elias didn't like what he was saying, that some broken version of him, the version that had to wear a collar and sometimes sleep on the floor and wasn't allowed to eat a hot meal, wanted to argue the allegations. There was a dense pause, and then Tyson was proved right, because Elias finally shook his head just a little, face twitching into a frown. "It wasn't unprovoked Ty, I deserved-"

"No, Eli. You have done absolutely nothing to deserve what he did to you. Do you understand me? You've done nothing wrong."

Elias's eyes were huge and tearful at the words, and Tyson grew worried that he'd spoken too harshly, that he'd said the wrong thing. His anxiety worsened when Elias began to actually cry, letting out weak, pathetic whimpers and allowing his tears to slide down his cheek and onto Tyson's hand that was holding his face.

"Shit, Eli, I didn't mean to upset-" before he could finish his sentence, Elias was tossing the blanket off of himself and throwing himself at Tyson. He wrapped his injured arms around his neck and pressed himself close, with more strength and vigor than he'd had since August got a hold of him.

Tyson didn’t know that no one had told Elias that in his entire life. In his early years he was made to feel like it was his fault he couldn’t sit still, it took him years to convince himself that it wasn’t. And he blamed himself for his parents handing him over to the state, abandoning him without a second thought, told himself every single day that he deserved to be left like that. No one ever corrected him. Really, August and all of his torture was just another thing to add to the list of things he felt deserving of, reprimand for some heinous act he didn’t know he had ever committed.

Tyson didn’t know how fucking relieving it was to hear those words, that it wasn’t his fault, that he didn’t do anything wrong, after an entire lifetime spent thinking that him simply existing was wrong.

"Thank you, Ty," he sniffled, his hands finding Tyson's hair and using it to try and hold him even closer, if that was possible. Tyson was overjoyed at how Elias didn't seem like he was panicking or in pain, and he was holding onto him so tightly, like he used to.

Of course, Tyson didn't hesitate to hug him back, reminding himself to be careful, that Elias was injured and sore. He ran his fingers through Elias's soft hair, down his back, then back up again. "What are you thanking me for?" He asked softly.

"You're perfect, Tyson. Thank you for saying all of that." Elias began to place soft kisses against Tyson's neck in between his tiny sniffles as his crying came to a slow stop. Then, he pulled away just enough to look at him, a small, wavering grin on his face despite the tears glistening in his eyes. "I love you."

Tyson smiled at him, tears suddenly in his own eyes as he said it right back. Elias ignored all the familiar doubt that usually came when anyone said that to him, because this time it was different. This time, he could feel that Tyson was telling the truth.

[amazingphanisnotonfire-imagines]

Reggie//i can't let you go now that i got it

Request: your last reggie mantle imagine was soooooo cute it was.... BIG FAV i'm still grinning! could you please do one where reader and reggie have been best friends their whole lives? she's super protective and sweet to him and like? she's been in love for years but has been hiding it well?? she gets him to come away with her to college because 'screw this town' and they live together? but eventually she starts going on dates and it makes him realize he's in love with her too?? mutual love confession

hey! so before you go any further trigger warning mentions of abuse, specifically around reggie and his dad. it’s not in detail but it is mentioned a few times so don’t read if that upsets you. the last thing i want you to be is sad. i hope you all have a good day anyway, whether you’re reading this or not! (title is from Børns ‘electric love’)

- For 18 years 

- Reggie Mantle has been the only constant in your life 

- Even when you were babies he was there 

- Your mom’s sat beside each other in baby class, cooing and awing over each other’s kids

- All while 6 month old you stole 6 month old Reggie’s toy

- And then he cried so hard he vomited on not only himself but you as well 

- Which then made you cry even louder 

- And then your mom’s were asked to leave 

- So instead

- It became a weekly thing for your mom to take you to The Mantle’s 

- While her and Mrs Mantle gossiped and drank tea 

- You and Reggie would hit each other with various stuffed toys. 

- As you got older 

- The weekly visits turned into daily ones 

- Especially when you moved three houses away from him

- You and Reggie started to see each other more than your own parents did

- Your mom still went over once a week

- But when she arrived you were always usually there

- Either stood in the kitchen getting a snack 

- Or lying on Reggie’s bed watching an awful movie he just ‘had to show you’ 

- They usually involved a hybrid of two animals

- Sometimes mythical, sometimes not 

- But in all of them they were usually taking over the world

- They also always had the same four actors in

- But despite how much you protested 

- ‘reggie? are you being serious? we watched this one last time.’ 

- ‘no, we watched molemaid last time. this is medusamaid. they’re completely different’ 

- ‘oh, sorry. my mistake’

- You actually secretly loved them 

- Because they made him happy

- You would watch in awe as he laughed at stupid jokes 

- And how his eyes would always light up at a particularly gruesome part, no matter how badly CGI’d it was

- You also listened to the countless of theories as to how ‘hurrik9’ is clearly the prequel to ‘hellhounds’ because ‘they’ve got the same main character! it doesn’t matter if they’re not played by the same person. y/n, they’ve got the same name.’ 

- You also listened to him complain about the inconsistencies between ‘werewombats 1’ and ‘werewombats 2’

- ‘no matter how much the director stands by the decision to make them turn on each other, despite the first film clearly stating that that’s the last thing they’d do.’ 

- But the thing you loved the most about it 

- Was that he was only ever this way with you

- You’d been sworn to secrecy when you walked in on him watching ‘dinocano vs uniquake’ 

- And you promised never to tell anyone about his secret passion

- Or the fact that he had a stack of notebooks filled with plots and mini scripts for his own films. 

- Reggie may have gotten popular

- But to you, he’s still the same Reggie you’ve always known.

- Whose scared of clowns but won’t admit it

- And cried when watching Edward Scissorhands but if anybody asks it was you

- And who hates hot chocolate, but its the only thing he’ll drink when he’s sick 

- He also only eats pink marshmallows in months ending in R

- And white ones every other month 

- But in December he has both...because its Christmas.

- Yeah, you and Reggie are best friends 

- Always have been, always will

- But it doesn’t stop you from wanting more.

- It doesn’t stop the longing looks when you think no one is watching 

- Or the lingering touches whenever he hugs you

- It doesn’t stop your heartbeat picking up whenever he walks into a room

- Or how you forget how to breathe whenever he looks at you

- You look forward to everyday, even if you have a pop quiz or homework you only remembered the night before

- Because he’s going to be there to make you smile

- Even if he isn’t doing it on purpose 

- You look forward to the countless of texts he sends

- No matter how weird or ridiculous 

- Like when he text you at half three in the morning to ask if birds were real because somebody told him they weren’t.

- You then got a text straight afterwards telling you that it would be great idea for a plot

- And you still answer every single one

- No matter how stupid they are 

- It’s really a wonder how you get any sleep with your phone being on loud all the time

- But it’s worth it

- Especially when you get texts like 

- ‘he’s done it again’ 

- Reggie’s relationship with his father complicated to say the least

- You remember when you were younger they used to be best friends 

- Reggie idolized him 

- And you’d have conversations in Reggie’s tree house, about how much he wanted to be just like his dad when he grew up

- But when he did grow up

- And started to develop a personality that didn’t just revolve around football 

- Reggie no longer wanted to be just like his dad 

- He wanted to be the furthest thing from him

- The first time it happened 

- Reggie tried his hardest to hide it from you 

- And for the first time in 8 years 

- You went two days without seeing each other 

- On the third day though 

- You’d had enough 

- So you went round to see him 

- But when you asked his mom if he was in 

- She lied and told you he had just gone out 

- Even though you could clearly see him trying and failing to hide on the stairs

- So you did what any normal friend would do 

- You climbed through his bedroom window 

- With about as much grace and steal as you could muster 

- Which surprisingly, wasn’t a lot

- And you gave him the fright of his life 

- ‘what the hell are you doing here?’ 

- ‘you’re avoiding me’ 

- ‘i’m not. i’ve just been...busy’ 

- ‘doing what? fighting?’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘your eye’ 

- ‘oh yeah...that’ 

- That was when you knew something was wrong 

- You’ve known Reggie your entire laugh 

- And you know the three things he’ll always boast about 

- Girls, football and fighting 

- ‘what happened?’ 

- When he told you 

- You couldn’t believe what he was saying 

- You wanted to find Marty Mantle and give him a black eye...see how he likes it 

- But Reggie begged you not to do or say anything 

- ‘it’ll only make it worse’ 

- ‘but its wrong. he should be locked up’

- ‘who’s going to believe me?’ 

- ‘me’ 

- ‘see...it was only one time anyway’ 

- So you agreed, reluctantly 

- And you so wanted to believe it

- But then a few weeks later he turned up to school with a bust lip

- A month after that another bruise around his eye that he tried to hide behind sunglasses 

- And by the time graduation rolled around 

- Both of you had lost count of the sunglasses and excuses 

- For three years he’d been trapped in a house with a father who thought hitting was the same as love 

- And a mother who pretended it didn’t happen 

- But now college was round the corner and that meant a chance for both of you

- Or at least thats what you thought

- ‘you didn’t get in?’ 

- ‘i didn’t get in.’ 

- ‘to any of them?’ 

- ‘nope’

- ‘reggi-’

- ‘it’s fine. my dad has always wanted me to work for him. i guess this will make him happy. even if i am the cleaner’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please go’

- That summer was the longest one of your life 

- It was even longer that the time Reggie had to get his appendix out and so you couldn’t hang out for a 3 weeks.

- For two and a half months 

- You heard nothing from Reggie 

- You text, called, DM’d and even E-mailed

- But you got nothing 

- You went round at all times of the day to try and talk to him

- And every time Mrs Mantle answered and told you he was either out or busy

- Doing homework was her favourite excuse

- And Reggie has only ever done homework when you were doing the majority of it 

- You even tried climbing in through his window again 

- But he locked it 

- So you watched every morning as he dragged himself into his dad’s car

- Wearing a stiff suit and a miserable expression 

- No matter how hard you tried to get to him before the left 

- How fast you ran or how early you got to his house

- They were always long gone before you managed to get anywhere close to him

- You missed the midnight texts about nothing 

- You missed his stupid jokes 

- You missed watching an entire room light up whenever he walked in

- You missed the way he made you feel, even if he was unaware of it 

- You even missed watching his god-awful movies 

- You just missed him 

- And when he missed your leaving party 

- That was the final straw

- At 7am the next morning 

- You shoved the last of your boxes in the back of your car 

- Said goodbye to your parents 

- And drove away

- Three houses down the street 

- Making sure your parents had gone back inside before stopping 

- You sat outside for a few minutes 

- Trying to think of what to do or say 

- You knew his mom would answer the door

- And that you’d get the same excuses 

- You also knew from the past few experiences that his window would still be locked 

- So you threw rocks at his bedroom window in the hopes that when he’d check to see what it was, he’d leave it unlocked 

- And he did! 

- You watched from behind a bush as he hung his head out the window to look around

- His brow furrowed and hair messy

- Clearly he’d just woke up

- You couldn’t help the smile twitching at your lips 

- You’d missed that face 

- Climbing the window was a lot harder than it used to be 

- Mr Mantle had taken the ladders away 

- Another reason as to why he sucked

- But you managed eventually 

- And you almost died only twice 

- Which is good 

- It’s better than three 

- You landed on the carpet with a loud thud that made him jump half way across the room

- ‘y/n. what the hell are you doing here?’

- ‘it’s moving day. and i must say i’m very disappointed at the lack of preparation on your part. have you even started packing yet?’

- ‘it’s not funny y/n’

- ‘i know. do you see me laughing?’

- ‘i’m being serious y/n. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’

- ‘the last time you told me to leave, i listened and i didn’t see you for two months, so no’ 

- ‘what about college’ 

- ‘what about it?’ 

- ‘it starts in three days’ 

- ‘i know. and if we stand here any longer we’re going to miss it. so get packed and lets go. it’s a nine hour drive and i’m not doing all of that alone’ 

- ‘you know i can’t go’ 

- ‘says who?’ 

- ‘my dad, every single college i applied for and me’ 

- ‘listen to me reggie. you are my best friend, you have been since we were babies. there’s not a part of my life you haven’t been in. do you really think that would stop at college?’ 

- ‘we didn’t spend the summer together’ 

- ‘and it was the worst summer of my life’ 

- ‘same...but that might have been because i was spending 12 hours a day in an office’ 

- ‘rude. but i’ll take it!’ 

- ‘i did miss you though. it was weird not seeing your face everyday’ 

- That makes your cheeks heat up and you have to force the flutter in your chest to go away

- ‘it always cheers me up’ 

- There it goes again and you want to claw at your chest until it’s no longer there 

- Hope is a terrible thing to have when you’ve been in love with your best friend for your entire life

- ‘you always cheer me up’ 

- Oh dear...

- ‘i love you...a-as a friend. this summer has been the longest and most depressing for both of us. i don’t want to live the rest of my life like that. i need you reggie. so please pack your bags, say screw you to your dad and to this town and lets go’ 

- ‘what about money? where am i going to live?’ 

- ‘we’ll figure that out on the way there. just hurry up’ 

- And he did 

- You and Reggie threw the majority of his belongings into any bag you could find

- He took all the money he’d been saving out of the poorly disguised fake plant

- And wrote a nice little note for his parents 

- You also may have added a few choice words to it 

- But what Reggie doesn’t know won’t hurt him 

- And the two of you climbed into your car and never looked back

- The 9 hour car ride was the most fun you’ve ever had 

- It was like you were trying to fit the entire summer you’d lost into those few hours 

- It was filled with off key singing 

- And stories of your summer 

- His favourite being about Archie being tricked into going skinny dipping by himself

- You laughed loudly like nothing had happened 

- And cried silently because everything had 

- Thankfully when you arrived on campus, it was already night 

- So you managed to sneak Reggie into your room

- And when you nervously told your roommate 

- She just grinned at you

- ‘it’s fine, my boyfriend will probably be staying over a lot too’ 

- ‘oh, he’s not my boyfriend’ 

- ‘we’re not together’ 

- ‘...okay’ 

- She said with a knowing smile and you and Reggie shared a look

- And a year filled with adventures started

- Reggie got a job as a bartender with a little help from Veronica 

- And you started your classes 

- But nothing is ever easy 

- At least not when it involves you or Reggie 

- It turns out hiding a whole human is a lot more difficult that you anticipated. 

- It involves Reggie squeezing into your closet 

- And a whole team of people to get him to and from the showers 

- But it was also difficult for another reason

- Because it was easy to hide your feelings from him when you lived in separate house 

- But now you’re sharing a room

- And a bed 

- And every time he would wrap his arms around you 

- And pull in for a half asleep cuddle 

- You’d forget how to breathe 

- You’ve never been more excited to wake up

- Because he’d be all messy hair and parted lips with just a little bit of drool coming out of them that it would be cute instead of gross 

- And when he said good morning in the same deep, tired voice 

- You wanted to live in that feeling forever 

- But then 2nd year rolled around and everything changed 

- It all started when you moved into your own apartment 

- You knew you had to but there was a part of you that hoped you could keep everything the same 

- You found a tiny, two bedroom flat that you could both just about afford 

- Reggie was so happy to have his own room

- ‘i won’t have to sleep next to you and your freezing cold feet anymore’ 

- ‘i’ll just sneak into your bed when your fast asleep and put them on you then instead’ 

- ‘i thought we were supposed to be friends’ 

- It took a few weeks to get used to an empty bed 

- But eventually you started to sleep properly 

- And it was quite nice to have your own space again

- It meant you could study without having to listen to ‘nighthawk nightmare’ 

- Honestly, you don’t really know what the plot of that one is 

- But you’ve still seen it 7 times 

- You may be in love with him but it doesn’t mean he can’t be annoying sometimes 

- And you were happy with going back to admiring from afar

- Your heart can’t get broken that way

- In fact a small part of you thought he felt the same way 

- That one glimmer of hope you felt a year ago

- Came back all of sudden 

- And soon 

- You became aware of the lingering touches 

- And the gifts he’d buy you just because 

- He also asked what you wanted to watch for your movie night 

- And he’s never, ever done that unless you were sad or sick

- And even then, when you broke your arm a few years ago, he chose the film

- The way he looked at you suddenly felt different 

- You would feel him staring, but when you would check he would always be scrolling through his phone 

- And you’re sure the was a little bit of flirtiness in his tone whenever he spoke to you 

- But just because you think you can’t be burnt if you stand far enough away from the fire 

- Doesn’t mean that the sparks can’t jump out and get you anyway 

- Because all of sudden Reggie started bringing girls home 

- And every time you saw a t-shirt that wasn’t yours on the sofa 

- Or a pair of shoes discarded by the door

- You felt yourself die a little

- After a few weeks of this 

- Something in you snapped

- You’d spent the majority of your life pining after some boy who saw you as nothing more than a friend 

- And sometimes a small part of you thought as just an escape route

- So you moped for a few weeks before deciding it was finally time to move on

- Reggie would only ever see you as a friend 

- And that’s fine 

- The only way to move on, is to move on. 

- So you waited for the right guy to move on with 

- And there were a few 

- But none of them were right 

- Until you met Daniel 

- Sweet Daniel with curly brown hair and dimples

- Who studied history 

- And spent his days sitting in the coffee shop on campus

- For a few weeks the two of you spent your short interactions stealing glances and exchanging shy smiles 

- That evolved to small talk with flirty undertones

- Until finally he asked you out 

- And you said yes 

- And you kept saying yes to each date afterwards 

- They were fun too

- He’d take you to museum's and on picnics and at night he’d pick you up and you’d go star gazing 

- He would make you laugh when he’d tell you a joke 

- And make you blush when he’s whisper in your ear while staring up at the sky 

- But he wasn’t him

- And that killed you

- It doesn’t matter how many time he takes you to watch some unknown indie film thats supposed to be the greatest thing ever made

- It has nothing on standing outside the only cinema in town that’s showing ‘sharkcano vs tigerana’ in the freezing cold with Reggie wearing an absolutely ridiculous costumes that Reggie threw together last minute and somehow roped you into wearing too.

- But what hurt even more was watching how Reggie acted around you when you and Daniel started dating 

- He looked hurt whenever he saw the two of you together 

- And you would watch him roll his eyes whenever you mentioned him 

- Until eventually he would just avoid you all together 

- Do you know how hard it is to avoid someone when you’re living in the same 2 bedroom flat that barely gives two foot to yourself? 

- It’s hard 

- But Reggie finds a way 

- Eventually you’re more roommates than friends 

- And you really don’t know how much more you can take 

- You feel like you’re about to break 

- And Daniel can see that too

- So on Friday night he invites you to go drinking with him and his friends instead of staying in and moping 

- ‘bye, i’m going out’ 

- ‘wait’ 

- The speed of which he runs from his room and into the living room where your stood, startles you to say the least 

- ‘what?’

- ‘don’t go out with him.’ 

- ‘why not? what ever george has told you about is a lie. george does that. he once told a bunch of people that you streaked in an old people’s home and almost killed his grandmother’ 

- ‘because he isn’t me’ 

- You’ve dreamt of those words 

- Built them up in your head for years 

- But in all of your daydreams, there’s never been a scenario like this one 

- Not one where you’re about to leave to go on a date with another guy 

- ‘reggie? what are you talking about?’ 

- You need to make sure he’s saying what you think he’s saying 

- Because you can feel yourself hoping again

- And you know if he doesn’t mean what you want him to

- You don’t think you’ll be able to recover

- ‘i love you y/n. you’re my best friend, you always have been, you always will be and i love you.’ 

- ‘reg-’ 

- ‘please tell me you feel the same way’ 

- ‘i-’ 

- In your head you had a full oscar worthy speech planned out just in case this ever happened 

- But now you’re here in the moment. 

- You have no idea what to say

- ‘it doesn’t matter. just leave’ 

- ‘no’ 

- ‘what?’ 

- ‘do you really think i’m going to walk away from you after that? when have i ever walked away from you?’ 

- ‘i-no’

- ‘i love you too by the way. if you care’ 

- ‘shut up...wait really?’ 

- ‘yes i do. i’ve loved you for as long as i can remember so are you going to just stand there or are you going to kiss me?’ 

- ‘i’m definitely going to kiss you’ 

- ‘good’ 

- And he does 

- He’s standing in front of you before you can catch your breath

- His hands reach up to cup your cheeks 

- His lips part as he stares down at you 

- And you’ve never seen him look at anyone the way he’s looking at you

- Like you’re everything good and light in the universe 

- And like he’s also been waiting just as long for this moment 

- Maybe he has 

- Maybe he’s been waiting all his life for this 

- He just didn’t know 

- You feel whatever breath you had left leave your lungs

- His lips are soft against yours, but he gets his point across 

- And you’ve never been happier 

- All the heartache and tears 

- The laughter and stupid jokes 

- The 3am texts 

- The constant worrying 

- The early mornings and late nights 

- The damage to limbs from trying to fit in tiny closets

- And the scrapes on your ankles and bruising on your legs from crawling through his bedroom window 

- They’re all worth it

- ‘are you still going on your date?’ 

- ‘what do you think?’ 

- ‘good. because they’ve just released werewombats 3’