#if you knew anything about him you’d know he’d chew his own hand off before laying a hand on taylor

[yorktaylor]

i’m sorry but i’m genuinely baffled at how many people are calling taylor a horrible person because she’s associated with the nfl and that she’s a pushover for being roped into “such a nasty disgusting industry”, like yeah, it’s a fucking industry. industries suck, there’s some awful people in the nfl. but you know what other industry is objectively as awful if not worse? hollywood. what is taylor part of? hollywood! do you think that every person associated with or part of hollywood is a horrible person because it’s an industry that fucking sucks? no! not every nfl athlete is racist or an abuser in the same way not every hollywood star is racist or abusive. it’s the fucking entertainment industry, it houses and creates some nasty people but they’re not the majority.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Imagine...Discovering Soldier Boy's Secret

Pairing: Soldier Boy x reader

Warnings: language

_______

You were exhausted when you finally got home. Work had been long and stressful. On top of that, you’d needed to hit the grocery store afterwords since you were down to basics. You were so flippin’ tired though that the second you had everything put away, you pulled out your phone and ordered a pizza with some sides.

You had a good thirty minutes before it’d arrive and you figured you’d put on something relaxing, maybe find where Ben was. His car was in the driveway and all his shoes were by the door so he was around there somewhere. 

Five minutes later you were in a pair of joggers, a bralette and one of Ben’s black t-shirts. The man only wore black, gray or navy blue shirts and jeans when he wasn’t in his uniform. You couldn’t blame the guy too much for not caring about fashion but you were hoping someday he might spice things up with a little color.

While in the bedroom, you noticed the bathroom door was shut which was strange. You always left it open unless someone was taking a shower. But you didn’t hear anything going inside.

“Ben are-” you said, pausing halfway with the door open. Welp, you’d found where he was.

Which was apparently sitting in your large soaker tub with a mountain of bubbles surrounding him.

He was taking a goddamn bubble bath. Your Ben. Your Soldier Boy. Your favorite arrogant asshole.

He seemed stuck, eyes a few fractions too wide, unblinking as you stared back at him, the scent of lavender and vanilla filling the room.

“Are-” You stared when he shot his hand up out of the water, pointing it at you like you you’d just run over his puppy.

“Not. A. Word.” You knew better than to aggravate him, at least right now. You slowly closed the door and went downstairs, throwing on a home renovation show. Ben didn’t appear until after the food came, decked out in a pair of flannel pajama pants and a red t-shirt. Okay, it was more maroon than anything but still. You’d bought it for him six months ago and hung it next to the other dozen colorful shirts you wondered if he’d ever wear. 

You stared at him, Ben ignoring you as he slapped three slices on a plate, plopped down on the couch and started to devour his dinner.

You flipped open the food on the coffee table, filling up your own plate, giving him another look, his own fixated on the screen playing before you.

“Stop staring at me,” he growled. You sunk back into the cushions, eating a few fries before you couldn’t help it.

“So.”

“Y/N…”

“Bubble baths.” He audibly growled, giving you a stern look to drop it. “You know, John Wayne took bubble baths.”

Ben was silent, angrily ripping off his crust with a large bite.

“Even if he didn’t, I think it’s nice.” Ben looked ready to bolt away to avoid this conversation but somehow he forced himself to stay seated. “Listen. I know this is going to sound stupid but it makes me feel good knowing you do something for yourself when I’m not around. It makes me feel like maybe you listen to me about the whole you’re deserving of nice things even though you’re a guy.”

Ben’s chewing was less infused with anger, all you’d get out of him that he was actually practicing a bit of self-care. 

“Want a beer?” you said, standing up. He grunted as you walked around the couch, ruffling his damp hair. “You look handsome in that color.”

The corner of his lip ticked up for a split second but you caught it. He was happy, at ease and that was more than enough for you.

__________

[tasteleeknow]

— make a wish

pairing: minho x fem!reader genre: smut, fluff, established relationship. content: 18+ minors dni. warnings below cut. word count: 3.9k

summary: it’s your boyfriends birthday. you can’t afford to get him much—so you offer him a small coupon book of favours. he cashes in immediately.

a/n: reupload bc of shadowban mess, i'm sorry! thank u so much to everyone who read and gave me feedback the first time, love u for it ❤︎︎

afab!reader. profanity. anxiety mention. pet names. oil massage. unprotected intercourse. praise kink. grinding. breast groping. fingering. possessive behaviour.

You couldn’t afford to get your boyfriend anything for his birthday. You’d considered borrowing some money from your friends. Anything you could afford felt totally inadequate. It was embarrassing. You had been so stressed about it Minho had noticed your low mood. “Just stressed with work,” you’d told him. It was only during a phone call with your parents you’d had an idea. When you were little you’d made your parents small coupon books for their birthdays. Each page would have a small redeemable favour they could use at any time. Things like vacuum the house, breakfast in bed, clean the bathroom etc. When you had no money of your own the little ticket books were your solution. Why couldn’t they be now?

You’d spent the last few days with the small book in your pocket, pulling it out and adding a page whenever a new idea popped into your head. You knew he’d pretend to like whatever you got him. Whether he was actually happy or not, you’d never know. You couldn’t help feeling anxious about it. You’d woken up before him this morning to make him breakfast, fiddling with the small book periodically—second guessing giving it to him at all. You could just tell him his gift hasn’t arrived yet, go borrow some money and buy him something nice. 

He sits across from you now, devouring the pancakes you’d made—his hair fluffy from sleep. He’d hardly said anything since he’d woken up, stumbling out of the bathroom and collapsing into the chair—half asleep. You wonder if now is the best time to give him the coupon book, while he’s too sleepy to think too much about it. 

“Come here,” Minho mumbles around a mouthful of pancakes, pushing his chair back and patting his thigh. You shove the small book in your pocket and stand to make your way to his side of the table. He watches you approach him, eyes dropping to your bare legs. 

You were wearing a sweater you’d stolen from him, some panties and a pair of fluffy socks. Lazy day attire. When you’d asked him if there was anything he wanted to do on his birthday, he’d stretched his arms above his head and mumbled. He wanted to do absolutely nothing at all. You’d thought maybe you could make up for the gift with a trip somewhere nice. Obviously not.

You settle yourself in his lap, thighs across his legs, side pressed to his chest. “Feed me,” he says, a serious expression on his face. 

You wrap one arm around his neck, holding yourself against him. “No please?” 

“It’s my birthday.”

“So I'm just your personal servant today then?” 

“Mm, pancake,” he says, opening his mouth in preparation. Maybe he will like your coupon book. You pull your arm from his neck so you can reach over to cut up the pancakes. His arms wrap around you, keeping you from falling off his lap. You hold your hand under the fork as you bring it to his mouth, ready to catch any spillage. 

“Say ahhh,” you prompt, treating him like one of the small children you’d babysat as a teenager. He frowns, leaning forward to latch onto the fork to steal the food. He leans back, eyebrows relaxing—a satisfied expression forming on his face as he chews. “Baby,” you tease, poking his cheek. 

“You’re supposed to be nice to me today.” 

“I’m always nice to you.” 

“Extra nice. Another,” he says, finished with his mouthful. You feed him another, watching him chew. You may as well give him the book. You could always tell him you had another gift coming. You reach into your pocket to pull the small book out. “What’s that?” he asks, reaching to snatch it from your hands. You pull it away from him just in time. 

“Be patient or you can’t have it.” 

“It’s for me then?” he says, a grin forming on his face.  

“Only if you’re good.” 

“I’m always good.” 

You take a deep breath, preparing yourself. “It’s…not much. I couldn’t really…afford much else so I thought—” 

“Give it,” he says, reaching to snatch it from you. He’s successful this time. You hold your breath as he inspects it, snaking one arm around his neck so he can free both his hands. He’s quiet as he reads the small note you’d written on the first page, then he flicks through. 

“I can use these anytime?” he says finally. 

“Yeah, whenever.” 

“What’s this one?” he asks, pointing to one of the pages. 

“I’ll pet you.” 

His nose scrunches as he pulls a face. “Why would I want to be pet?” 

“You love being pet.” You reach up to stroke the hair at the back of his head. “Like when I stroke your hair as you’re falling asleep.” 

“Now I have to pay for that?” 

“You just get to ask for it whenever you want.” 

He’s silent as he flips through a few pages. “I want to redeem this one right now,” he says, ripping out one of the tickets. You take it from him so you can read it. 

“Clean the cat litter for a week.” You look across the room to the three litter trays against the wall. “Alright then, your week starts now.” 

“Good, I haven’t done it this morning,” he says, flipping through the pages again. “This one, too.” You take the piece of paper from him. 

“Return one of your sweaters,” you read.

“I want this one back, right now.” He tugs at the sweater you're wearing. He hadn’t worn it in months, not since you’d stolen it. You attempt to climb off him so you can go change. “No, now,” he says, holding you down. 

“This coupon is for one sweater, not one naked girlfriend on your lap.” 

“It’s not my fault you allowed the system to be easily manipulated.” 

“Let me up a second.” He loosens his grip on you just long enough for you to resettle yourself in his lap, one leg over each thigh—facing him fully now. “Help me,” you say, lifting your arms above your head. His fingers brush against your skin as he pulls the sweater up over your head—dropping it to the ground the second you’re freed. You look down at the pile of fabric on the floor. “If you don’t want that, let me keep it. It’s my favourite.” 

“I want it.” 

“You’re disrespecting it.” 

“It’s mine, I can put it where I want,” he says, leaning back in the chair and tracing his palms up your waist. 

“I hate you.”

“Did you really just say that to me on my birthday?” He says, eyes fixed on your tits. 

“Do you like it? The book.” 

“Mm.”

“Do you really or are you just saying that?”

“It’s already got you naked in my lap, I like it,” he mutters, hands grasping your breasts. You pull them off you. 

“Groping wasn’t part of the voucher.” 

“I’ve never needed a voucher before.” 

“Well, now you do.” 

“Is there a groping voucher?” 

“Take a look.” 

He reaches down to grab the book from the floor before flipping through it. You smooth his messy hair down a little as he searches. “Massage?” he reads. “Can I have a massage AND grope your tits?” 

You hold your hand out in reply. He rips the massage coupon out and slaps it on your hand then flips through until he finds a ticket with your scribbled handwriting that reads: ‘1 Coupon to Touch, Grope or Poke’. 

“I can’t believe I need to pay for this now,” he grumbles, tearing the page from the book and slapping it on top of the other in your palm. 

“One massage with groping coming right up,” you say before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and climbing off his lap. He bends over to grab the sweater off the floor before following you to the bedroom. You lay out a towel on the bed. “Lie down,” you tell him before collecting the massage oil from the bathroom. When you return he’s stripped himself fully, lying back with his hands behind his head. “Did I tell you to strip?” 

“The voucher didn’t say I needed to be clothed. You’ve got the oil anyway. You were gonna tell me when you came back, control freak.” He says, smirking at you from his reclined position against the pillows. 

“I was going to tell you to take your shirt off, not whip your cock out.” 

“You like my cock,” he says, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Don’t fish for compliments, there’s a voucher for that.” 

He pulls his hand from his cock, propping himself up on his elbows to look at you properly. “There’s a compliment voucher?”

“Mm,” you confirm, climbing onto the bed to settle next to him.

“How many?” 

“It’s unlimited until it expires at the end of the week.” 

“Okay, compliment my cock then.” 

“I like your cock very much. My favourite cock. Very pretty. Now roll over.” 

He groans dramatically as he turns onto his stomach, pulling a pillow down to rest his head on. You climb over him, settling against his ass. You snap the cap off the oil before dribbling a generous amount over his back. He mumbles something, too muffled for you to make out. 

You lay yourself down onto him, breasts against the bare skin of his back. “What was that?” you ask before pressing your lips to the skin just behind his ear. 

“The oil is cold,” he repeats, clearer this time. 

“It’s cold? Poor baby,” you tease, sitting up again and dragging your hands down his back—spreading the oil as you go. Your breasts and stomach are slippery from where you pressed against him. He was right, it was a little cold. “I’ll warm you up, yeah?” you say, hands working the oil into his muscles. He groans as you hit a sore spot, letting you know where he needs extra attention. His muscles flex occasionally as you work, the feeling of them under your hands in combination with the noises coming from his throat make it impossible for you to stay still. The small movements of your hips against him go unnoticed. At least he doesn’t give you any indication he’s noticed. 

It isn’t until you’ve reached his lower back that he speaks up. “Take them off.”

You lift your fingers from his skin. “My hands?” 

“Panties. I can feel you rolling against me…wanna feel your naked pussy.”

“Shut up.” 

“It’s my birthday,” he whines. “Is there a coupon for it?”

“For grinding against your ass?” 

“For getting naked.” 

“...Yes.”

He lets out a contented sigh. “Best present ever.”

You can’t help it when your lips curve into a small smile in response. “You wanna use it then?”

“Mm, take them off.” 

You stand up on the bed to pull them down your legs, leaving you entirely bare minus the fluffy socks on your feet. “Socks?” you ask. 

“They can stay. Cute.” 

You lower yourself onto him, against his lower back this time. You can’t help letting a small sound escape your throat as your sensitive cunt presses against his warm slippery skin. You resume kneading his muscles as your hips roll against him, leaning down to press small kisses against his neck occasionally. Each time you lean down to kiss his neck you listen to the barely audible sounds he makes, like he’s holding back moans. 

“You warm now?” you ask eventually, voice breathy. 

“Mm,” he confirms, “Can feel your hot little cunt…so warm.” 

“This was a coupon for a massage, and now I'm naked grinding on you.” 

“Like I said, easily manipulated. No rules about combining tickets.” 

“Turn over,” you say, climbing off him. He sits up, pulling you into his lap. “Let go, I’m not done.” 

“Mm? Intermission,” he mutters before pressing his lips into yours. You feel his cock trapped between you, the oil spreading a little from your chest to his. “Compliment,” he mutters between kisses—cashing in one of his unlimited compliment coupons for the day.

“Could feel all your muscles…you’ve been working so hard...” 

“Yeah? The gym is paying off then?”

“Mm, can see it.” 

“Thank you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I’ll lie down now.” 

You climb off him, letting him settle himself down on his back. As you reach for the bottle his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “Do you need that?” he asks.

“You don’t like it?” 

“I like it, but you could oil me up another way.” He says, one corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

You sigh, giving him a pointed look as you wait for whatever is about to come out of his mouth next. He was completely unpredictable, one of the many things you loved about him. 

“Your tits,” he finishes, lips curving into a proper grin.

“What?” 

“Use your tits to oil me, they’re all slippery.” 

“You…want me to…rub the oil from my tits onto you?” 

“It’s my birthday,” he repeats for the umpteenth time. 

“There’s no coupon for that.” 

“Just because you love me, then.” 

“Let me get the oil, I need more.” 

He releases your wrist, allowing you to grab the bottle. You climb over him and open the cap—looking up at his face. He smiles. Alright, then. You tip the bottle upside down at your clavicles, letting the oil pour down over your tits. It’s cold. When the oil hits your nipple, a shiver runs down your spine. Minho’s hand comes up to grip your thigh. 

“More,” he says, voice breathy. You definitely don’t need more but you humour him, pouring oil until it drips down onto his stomach. 

“Enough?” you ask, finally.

“Mm, good.” 

You drop the bottle onto the bed next to you and use both hands to massage the oil into your tits a little. His hand on your thigh squeezes a little tighter as you work.

“I’m a fucking genius,” he mutters, eyes fixed on your tits. You huff out a laugh, hands dropping to rest on his chest. 

“Should I oil your tits now?” 

“If you like,” he says, as if he hadn’t guided the situation exactly where he wanted it. You lower yourself down onto him, chest to chest. “Compliment,” he breathes into your mouth. You slide back and forth a little against him, the slick oil making it easy. 

“Needy,” you tease before pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “Hm…let me think.”

“You need to think about it?” 

“You just have too many good qualities. It’s overwhelming.” 

“Ah, I see.” 

“You make me feel safe…and warm. I get this feeling in my chest when I’m with you, like everything is really okay.”

His arms wrap around you, pulling you down onto his chest fully. “Another.” 

“Your eyes are the prettiest.” 

“Mm, another.” 

“You make me laugh more than anyone else.” 

“These are really unlimited?” 

“Sure, but the more time I spend complimenting you the less time I have to rub oil on you with my tits.” 

“You can't compliment me WHILE you rub oil on me with your tits? It’s my birthday.” 

“Is it? You hadn’t mentioned,” you tease, grinning down at him before continuing to spread oil over him with your body. He closes his eyes, biting his bottom lip between his teeth as you work. His hair flops over his forehead, still messy from sleep. One of his hands grips your thigh, the other above his head—resting against the pillow, palm facing up. You reach up to intertwine your fingers with his, his hand warm in yours. 

“Kiss,” he mutters, lips a little swollen from where he’d bitten them. You take his hand from your thigh, pressing it above his head to join the other. You hold him there, each hand in his as you taste him. He’s a little sweet from the maple syrup. You can’t help moaning into his mouth, a little overwhelmed from all the different sensations. The warmth of him under you, the slippery oil coating your torso, the slide of your sensitive nipples against his skin, his sweet lips attached to yours, his warm hands in yours.

He detaches his lips from yours to speak. “Is there—” He kisses you again, interrupting himself. “Is there a coupon for letting me oil you?” 

“No, I don’t think letting you give me an oil massage is much of a gift.” 

“Well, I do,” he says before wrapping his arms around you, flipping you under him. You felt like you’d been holding his hands to the bed pretty firmly. Apparently not. He’d pulled himself free without even a hint of struggle. His dark hair hangs down over his eyes. You reach up to play with it just before he sits back and grasps each of your tits.

“So slippery, hm?” he whispers, eyes fixed on where his hands grope you—kneading each breast thoroughly. He’d always had a fascination with your breasts, groping them whenever he had the chance. You’d often hear the bathroom door open mid shower, your boyfriend joining you. He’d lather up his hands with body wash, insisting on massaging each breast—completely fixated on them until you eventually guided his hands elsewhere. 

You wrap your hands around his wrists now, prompting him to look up at your face. “I’m slippery elsewhere, too,” you say, guiding his hands down your stomach slowly. He pulls away so he can move down the bed and push your legs apart—settling himself between them. 

“Here, baby?” he asks, one finger gently brushing against your wet cunt. You suck in a breath, already sensitive from grinding against him. His finger brushes up and down through your folds gently, like he’s never touched you before. You close your eyes, basking in the feeling of his soft caress. You're so blissed out you nearly jump out of your skin at the cold oil he pours over your cunt. Apparently you’d been so out of it you hadn’t noticed him reaching for the bottle. 

“Co-Cold,” you stammer out, back arching off the bed slightly. 

“Yeah? Poor baby,” he teases, mimicking your words from earlier as his fingers find you again—much more confident this time. He spreads the oil over your mound, then his fingers move down through your folds, massaging the oil over your cunt thoroughly. “So pretty,” he mutters, just loud enough for you to make out. 

You struggle to stay still, squirming as he plays with you. It isn’t until he presses his long fingers inside you, the other hand working circles on your clit, that you let go—back arching off the bed as you whine his name. He works you through your high, wet sounds filling the room as he fucks you with his fingers. 

He climbs over you as you attempt to catch your breath, panting into his mouth as he kisses you. So sweet. 

“Do I need a coupon to fuck you?” he whispers against your lips. 

“No,” you breathe out, “you can do that just because I love you.”

The tip of his cock kisses your sensitive cunt as he mutters against your mouth. “I want to hear compliments as I fill you.” You nod, struggling to offer him a verbal response. “Use your words,” he prompts. 

“Yes…compliments…move, please.” 

He presses forward, his tip spreading you open. Your mind blanks, as it always does when he enters you. As he knows it will. Your mouth falls open, brows pulling together. “Compliment,” he says, not pressing in any further. 

You take a deep breath, looking up into his eyes. “So—So big, always so hard for me,” you manage to breathe out. He offers you a small smile before pushing into you a little more, the oil helping him spread you open. He drops his head into your shoulder. 

“Another,” he says, lips moving against your skin. 

“Stretch me open so well, feel so full of you every time. Wish you were inside me always, just like this,” you say, threading your fingers into his hair. You hold him against you as he begins moving, pressing his body into yours. He quiet as he fucks into you slow and deep, much slower than your used to. He usually liked it fast and hard, holding your hips up off the bed so he could use your cunt like a toy. He’d fuck you like that most nights, biceps flexing as he held you up. It wasn’t until he’d filled you that he’d melt, everything about him softened as he helped you reach your high—either with his fingers or his mouth.

“Tell me your mine,” he mumbles into your neck now. Slow, deep strokes of his cock splitting you open. 

“Of course I’m yours,” you answer, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. “Just like your mine, right?” 

“Mm,” he confirms before his lips attach to your skin properly, sucking a mark into your neck. You savour the feeling of him filling you as he works on marking your neck, the movement of his hips speeding up a little. When he finally detaches from your neck, you expect him to sit back—to start fucking you like he usually did. Instead he moves his head to the other side of your neck so he can begin marking you again. By the time he’s finished this one his hips are moving erratically, signalling his end. He hovers over you, breath mingling with yours as he pants. 

You keep your eyes locked on his as he comes, loving the expression he makes as he fills you. You reach up to grab the back of his neck, pulling his mouth to yours as his hips stutter against you, a final moan slipping from his lips.

After returning from the bathroom you find Minho quietly flipping through the coupon book, inspecting each page properly. You settle yourself against him, head resting against his chest. “What does this one mean?” he asks. 

“Read it to me.” 

“Make a wish.” 

“That’s a free for all. You can ask for anything.” 

“Anything?” 

You chuckle, hand lightly patting his stomach. “Nothing that’ll get either of us arrested…or killed.” Or cost more than I can afford, you add silently. 

He says nothing. You imagine his brain running through every possible thing he could ask of you. You imagine him asking to adopt another cat or make you come to the gym with him everyday. Every now and then you’d tag along and watch his workout. He said it was motivating. You close your eyes, nuzzling against him a little. Then the sound of paper tearing breaks the comfortable silence and he tucks the ticket into your hand. 

“I want to use it now,” he announces. 

“You sure? You only get one.” 

“One a year.”

“You want the same gift again next year?” 

“It’s a good gift.” 

You don’t hold back your smile, your face hidden from him. You believe him. He actually likes it. “Alright, what’s your wish this year then?”

He’s quiet again. His hand rests on top of yours, the ticket tucked safely under both your hands. Finally, he speaks again. “Marry me.” 

please reblog and share your thoughts. caption, tags, replies, or ask box, i read it all. feedback is what motivates me to write more!

↳ masterlist

[myhappylittlesideblog]

On the Fence

A/N: Some Daryl comfort for y’all. Hope you enjoy :)

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

W/C: 2k

Warnings: typical TWD gore and violence, killing walkers on the fence (prison era after Woodbury falls), Daryl comfort

Summary: (Y/N) is new to life at the prison and terrified of what the world has come to after living in the safety of Woodbury. Daryl helps her with the transition and advises her on how to stay alive when walkers are near.

“What?” Daryl grunted once he saw Carol’s smirk. It was clearly aimed at him, cutting across her pleasant face, teasing him.

“Nothin’. Just didn’t know anything could take your attention off fresh venison.”

He took another bite and slurped the juice from his thumb as he glared at her.

“You’re welcome, by the way.”

She laughed. “I did thank you. Earlier. You probably didn’t hear me because you were distracted then too.”

He stared back out over the prison yard, trying to ignore Carol and the way she could read him at all times, know exactly what was on his mind even when he himself wasn’t quite sure. Even now his head swam with this feeling he couldn’t put words to. It circled through him, just out of reach and made things fuzzy.

“She’s down there again,” he said.

The girl from Woodbury.

These days there were a lot of people at the prison. He knew all the newcomers by their faces, if not their names, and as they grew to recognize him, they swarmed him, asking for his laundry, signing up to follow him on a run, thanking him for the latest meal he’d brought back from a hunting trip. He was slowly getting to know them all.

But the girl on the fence intrigued him the most.

“You’re right to worry about her,” Carol said.

“M’not worried,” he grunted.

“Sure.”

He turned to her. “M’not. Got enough ta worry ‘about these days without addin’ somethin’ else.”

Carol shrugged. “You’re right. I just meant that she seems a bit off. The transition from Woodbury must have been hard.”

“No harder than takin’ in a whole extra town a’ people.”

Carol held her hands up in surrender. “Hey, you’re the one watchin’ her all the time.”

She left his side before he could find a rebuttal. He chewed on his meal alone, trying to keep to his own business.

Everyone watched everyone around here. It was part of the ‘it takes a village’ mindset. Gotta keep an eye on everyone, especially the new ones, he thought. Most of them were inexperienced in the new world. Those are the ones who get into trouble.

From the beginning, he could see through you. You were just a girl- a young woman- who’d lived in a protected town during the entirety of the outbreak and now you were thrust into a prison surrounded by the walking dead. He knew Carol was right, that such a change would affect anyone. Hell, it could send some off the deep end and he didn’t want that to happen to you.

You were kind and helpful, generous with your time and smiles. But you stayed indoors as much as possible. You took on babysitting and story time regularly and happily spent your free time doing laundry and cooking for the crowd. Your whole demeanor changed when you looked outside, as if you too would be dead the minute your shoe touched the grass.

Which is why he was caught by surprise the first time he spotted you down on the fence line. Not only had you left the safety of the prison’s walls, but you had snuck past the gardens, all the way down to the outer fences. You stood, crowbar in hand, just a couple feet from a small herd of walkers pushing on the barrier wall.

You had never volunteered to work the fence and the council didn’t push anyone. After all, you always did more than your share of work inside. There was no need for you to take on more.

Daryl had watched you that first time, and each time after that. You’d walk down to the fence line and stand there, watching the walkers gather. You’d stare at them, but never raise your weapon. And then you’d leave.

He had a feeling he knew why.

***

They were so loud against the fence. Each one of them had a different growl or snarl or cry, like they would have all had different sounding voices when they were alive.

But they’re not alive, you had to remind yourself. They’re not who they once were and now, they’re dangerous. You had to learn how to kill them, even with their horrible, overwhelming noises that scared you almost to tears. And you weren’t even that close to them yet.

You forced yourself to take another step toward the outside fence, squeezing the iron crowbar in your hands. It’s safe behind the fence, you convinced yourself. Just stab them in the brain.

A squelching sound brought your attention fully back to the monsters in front of you. Gross, gray fingers grabbed at the fence and pushed through towards you. Like a twisted birth, the zombie’s hand wrenched through the diamond of metal, slicing off its own thumb to get through. Dirty brown blood spurted from the thing and the lost digit fell to the ground as the desperate fingers reached for you until the walker’s elbow caught in the fence next.

Dazed with terror and disgust, you backed away until a hand landed on your back. You screamed at the touch, only choking it off when you saw that it wasn’t one of the dead that had a hold of you, but the camp hunter, Daryl Dixon. You were grateful, albeit embarrassed and somewhat scared to see him standing there.

He only looked you over for a moment before turning his focus to the reaching walker. He kicked the reanimated arm hard against the fence, breaking it off at the elbow, and ripped the crowbar from your limp hands.

“Gotta git ‘em in the head, ya know that,” he said, finishing off the thumbless walker himself.

All you could do was nod. Tears dropped from where they pooled in your eyes and streamed down your cheeks, finally free to fall now that you had someone to protect you.

He held the crowbar out to you but you wouldn’t take it.

“Why’d ya come down here f’yer so scared of ‘em?” Daryl asked.

You couldn’t look at him. Adrenaline steeped in humiliation and fear rushed through you and made your hands tremble. You were shaking uncontrollably and you knew it was obvious to Daryl as you lifted your hands to wipe the tear tracks from your face.

“C’mon. We got food inside,” he said.

You grabbed the crowbar from him after dragging your fist across your eyes, clearing them of tears. “No, I’m gonna stay here.”

“Can’t stay by yerself.”

You shrugged, but didn’t answer.

“S’no reason to scare yourself shitless down here-”

“I don’t want to be scared anymore,” you said, gripping the crowbar tightly in your hands and turning your back to Daryl. You planted your feet and stared at the things gathering on the other side of the barrier.

It’s safe behind the fence. Just stab them in the brain.

You held the weapon in the air and aimed. The weight of your body rocked back and forth in preparation, but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t thrust forward. You couldn’t kill it. You weren’t meant for this-

Then Daryl was behind you, his chest pressed to your back. His hands covered yours, fingers curling around the crowbar.

“Count a three, alrigh’?”

You nodded.

“One, two, three-”

The power he gave you was palpable. It wasn’t just that he was strong, his arms helping you plunge the weapon through the walker’s skull. It was also the strength of mind his presence gave you. He believed in you enough to teach you, cared enough to help you. With him there, you could do it.

You aimed at another. His chest bloomed against your back as it filled with breath, readying himself for another blow. Arms stained with sweat and dirt caged your head and neck as they held tight to the crowbar in front of you. The effort it took to stab the weapon through a skull was probably minimal for Daryl, but for you, the work sent a grunt pounding from your body.

When the hit landed, it stuck hard into bone, sending you stumbling forward. But so quickly, so easily, Daryl caught you before you could fall any closer to the heathens reaching through the barricade.

He helped you yank the crowbar back through your side of the fence. When your balance returned, he came to stand in front of you, wiping the spattered blood from your face. “Not that hard, right?”

With his help, no, it wasn’t. But even though you appreciated Daryl and selfishly wanted him near more often than not, you didn’t want to depend on him. You didn’t want to depend on anyone.

“I’m sick of being so fucking scared all the time,” you mumbled.

He straightened, pulling his hands from your dirtied face. He nodded. “Bein’ scared is good, ya know,” he said. “Keeps ya quick. An’ smart. If ya get too used to ‘em, that’s when they getcha.”

“Feels like they already have,” you said. “Like my life is already gone. Can’t even step outside most days-“ You swallowed hard.

“That’s why ya come down here ‘n watch ‘em. Ta get used to ‘em.”

You nodded, looking down at the shoes of the wobbling dead, the backdrop to the self-severed thumb and the walkers Daryl had helped you take down. Just two of many.

“I thought if I could desensitize myself to them it would all be easier,” you said.

“Jus’ takes some time,” he said, reaching for the crowbar.

You didn’t let him take it. “I’m already so far behind everyone else-”

“Dun matter.” He chewed his lip, looking back up to the prison. “We’re not goin’ anywhere. Yer part of the group now and we’ll help ya ‘til it gets easier.”

“What if it never does?”

He slid the weapon from your hands and shrugged. “S’okay too.”

***

You’d hugged him before. He remembered when you’d first stepped on the prison grounds, you’d wrapped your arms around his waist before someone else had pulled you away, inside to the cell blocks. You had been in shock and his was a safe face that you’d seen before. That was all.

There were other times you’d touched his shoulder or gave him a casual, sloppy one armed hug when he’d skinned his hunts instead of having you do it, or when he’d returned from a long run. You were always kind to him- kind to everyone.

But this was different. Something more. Now, when you hugged him in thanks, it made his insides burn and swell up into his throat. Every place your bodies met warmed his flesh as if he were sunbathing on the equator. It was pleasant and felt morbidly addicting.

He didn’t miss the way you skidded away from the outside fence and closer to him as he led you back up the hill to the prison walls. He saw the fear still wreaking its havoc in you and only letting up when he closed the door to the cell block behind you. It pulled at him- you pulled at him in a way he didn’t expect from an outsider.

Somewhere deep in his gut, he couldn’t help hoping that it didn’t get easier for you. That you stayed exactly who you were- full of light and compliments and smiles. He didn’t want you to fall into the apocalyptic haze everyone else he knew had given in to. He wanted life to be about more than just survival for you. He knew it was selfish of him. The consequences swam around his brain. What could happen if you didn’t know how to protect yourself, didn’t learn to kill as easily as breathing, or worse- trusted too easily. Your world view was so pure, but so dangerous, and yet, when he looked through your eyes, he felt a little lighter himself. Maybe that’s why he was drawn to you from the beginning.

You weren’t just the girl on the fence anymore. Or the nice girl in the kitchen or with the kids. You were (Y/N). He liked that.

[imaginesforeons]

The thing with the tongue (Yandere!Geto x Reader)

~You're bored, but Geto is right there. You decide to put him to work~

This is actually inspired from the tv show The Great. There's one scene where Catherine demands that her husband "do the thing with the tongue", so I wanted to write something similar.

CW: Abusive Relationship. Kidnapping. Oral sex. AFAB reader. Face sitting.

Word Count: 1,259

18+ only

Reqs are OPEN! At the top of my page you can see what fandoms I write for, so DM me with your ideas!

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

Never, you mused, had you ever been so bored.

To your left you hear the rustling of papers, and look over to see Geto, the man who had kidnapped you six months ago, shuffling through a stack of papers. You were in his office with him, set aside and forgotten on a plush couch like some type of trinket. Your eyes narrowed into a glare, but if he was aware of your gaze, Geto didn’t do anything to show it. He just absently clicked a pen, dabbing the tip on his tongue before signing a paper for who-knew-what.

A couple minutes later, he did the same thing again, stretching out his pink tongue to lick the nub of a pen. Next, he licked his finger, a quick, nimble stripe against the pad of his pointer. Before he went to turn a page, you saw the wetness of his spit gleaming on his skin in the office lights.

You chewed on your lip in a moment of indecision before you sighed, standing and brushing invisible dust off your clothes before walking up to him.

“Hey,” you said, kicking the side of his desk to get his attention.

Geto blinked, and looked up from his stack of papers. “Yes?”

You felt a heat rising to your cheeks, but you plowed forward. “Do the thing with the tongue.”

“Oh?” A cheshire grin spread across his face. “I’m afraid there are lots of ‘things with the tongue’. You’ll have to be more specific, pet.”

You hissed a breath between your teeth. “Get on the couch, lay down, and let me sit on your face,” you snapped. “Then do the thing with the tongue.”

Geto laughed, but that was all he did. You were grateful, though you’d never let him know it. If he had said anything else you’d have probably run from the room, hot from shame, all to hide away until Geto felt like finding you again.

Sex with Geto was a relatively new development. Even though you had been with Geto six months - six months, one week, and five days, to be exact - anything sexual with him hadn’t happened until a few weeks ago, give or take. That wasn’t to say Geto hadn’t tried. He had tried a lot, in fact, since the moment he had stolen you away, with a determination and patience that you would call impressive, if you weren’t the recipient of it. He would trail his hand along the small of your back, give you romantic gifts of flowers and chocolates, or hold you in his lap. At night, when the two of you were in bed - in the same bed, because Geto had never allowed you your own room - he’d offer you massages, or try to press kisses against your lips, your brow, the corners of your eyes.

For a long time, you fought him, hiding or running, but that never worked, at least not for the long-term. It made you so, so tired to always be in fight or flight, and you never knew how lonely it could be without someone by your side. So, finally, you gave in. One night a few weeks ago, you were sprawled across Geto in bed, the man languidly playing with your hair. When he pressed a coaxing kiss against your lips, you pressed back. After that, it was all heat and sensation and Geto.

You cried afterwards. You did it in the bathroom where no one saw, but you’re pretty sure Geto still knew about it. After that, you and Geto had done things together more and more often, but this was the first time you initiated.

As Geto got on the couch, you didn’t bother with any of your clothes but your panties, sliding them down your legs and around your shoes to toss them in some forgotten corner of the room. Climbing on the couch, you straddled his chest, looking into a dark pair of eyes for only a split second before looking away again, scared at the emotion in them.

“Well?” Geto asked, laying down fully and patting his face. “Come use me to your heart’s content.”

You only scooted forward in reply, spreading your legs and already feeling a deep ache in your core. With a sigh, you settled on his face, feeling his breath fan between your legs. 

Geto grabbed your thighs, impatience eating at him, and laved his hot tongue across the entirety of your pussy. You squeaked, whimpered, and felt Geto tease at your clit. With a groan you threw your head back, but you could feel him staring at you. Those endless, dark eyes would be looking up at you, a spark of something unnameable deep in their depths, the man beneath you devouring you in more ways than one. 

You were wearing a skirt today, and you think it’s perfect for the occasion. Geto liked to dress you. He liked to dress you and feed you and spoil you like a pampered pet, and it drove you close to insanity almost every day. You would fight back, snarling and spitting in his face, only to get that infuriatingly bland smile of his no matter how hard you sought a different reaction. This morning you had been too tired to fight, and you had let him coax you gently into a flowy, knee-length skirt, much to Geto’s delight.

For once, you were actually glad you listened to him as you lifted the skirt and draped it over him, covering the top half of Geto’s face. From between your legs you heard him bark out a laugh, and in response you ground your hips down, shuddering at the sensation. Now you could pretend it was just you in this empty room. You and the exuisiteness lapping at your sex.

Muscled arms looped around your thighs, pulling you forwards and down, his tongue circling around your entrance. You whimpered, then jerked as Geto firmly sucked on your clit, massaging your ass while he did so. Soon the two of you settled into a rhythm, the firm pressure of Geto’s tongue matching the erratic movement of your hips. The room filled with your barely suppressed whines, while beneath you the occasional grunt or groan from Geto was muffled by your skirt.

Geto flicked his tongue against your clit one more time before he delved into your pussy, fucking in and out of it like it was all he had ever dreamed of. His movements were raw, primal, and seemed to grow faster by the second. His hands on you squeezed hard once, as if in warning, before he suddenly forced you onto his face with so much strength you would have lost your balance if his hands had not been so firm.

This made his tongue go impossibly deeper, and when Geto groaned you let out a cry as you felt it vibrate up into you. You wouldn’t last much longer, your hands scrabbling desperately for something to hang onto until you found his hair. Clenching it between your fingers, you mewled as your climax pulsed through you, Geto’s tongue pumping in and out of your pussy at an impossible speed.

Finally, your spasming ceased, as did Geto’s ministrations. You allowed yourself only a few seconds of respite before you were up and off Geto, stubbornly ignoring the wet sheen coating the bottom half of his face.

Geto swiped his thumb over his bottom lip before popping it into his mouth, sucking it clean. When he smiled, he looked a little feral. “Delicious.”

[sunoosets]

can i hear your thoughts about sub!sunoo's kinks?

btw, can i be 💐 anon? i'll be active if you noticed me, hehe

💐 anon, oh my, congrats on being my first anon<33 dw, ur noticed🤭 hope u enjoy!

Sub!Sunoo would definitely have a praise kink, in my opinion. Any sort of compliment, dirty or not and he would be a red, heated mess. Cheeks tinged a rosy colour as he smiles and internally kicks his feet. The dirty praises have him in a chokehold.

“You have such a pretty cock.” You’d say sweetly, picking your finger up his length. It would twitch against the cool air and harden further against your palm. You’d latch your hand around him, and his hips would buck instantly. The praise simply making him crumble into the mattress, melting almost. His cheeks would burn, and his stomach would flip. Eyes rolling while his glossy lips parted. “Y/n, please!”

You would tease him with these comments, knowing so well that they spurred him. Tossing your head back, and then dropping it forward. You would bury yourself between his neck and shoulder, stifling your moans into his skin. “Fuck…” You’d curse, chewing your lip before pressing it to his ear. “You fuck me so well, Sunoo…”

Sunoo would groan. Cheeks flushing, but it didn’t stop his hips from bucking quicker. His thrusts becoming more precise, instead of sloppy. He would slam into you, whimpering while he pushed himself over the edge.

He would also enjoy comments that praised him, but boosted his ego as it would always involve another member. It was both reassuring, and a guilty pleasure he wouldn’t have admitted to the other boys. Things such as “Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to fuck me as good as this…” Whenever he was feeling unsure with his body’s abilities. The high he would reach afterward would be heavenly, not to mention it also raised his spirits and self-esteem.

I believe Sub!Sunoo would also do anything to be used by his dominant. He would tease and be bratty. Dress up purposefully to seduce his dominant because he loved being the centre of your attention. He loved your eyes on him, and the praise that would ensue whenever you saw him in tight fitting clothes, or outfits that had revealed great expanses of his skin. Sunoo would go out of his way to consistently have your attention and would be jealous in an instant if you had disregarded him. He’d bend over or whimper lightly when stretching. He would sometimes even make it so that whenever he had hugged you from behind his big bulge would be pressed into your ass. You’d be able to feel him grow hard in his pants and rub himself against you, while he hummed and slid his nose between the strands of your hair. Arms wrapping tightly around you. “Can you feel that?” He would murmur, pursing his lips against your ear. “I’m so hard for you…”

I could imagine Sub!Sunoo with a Mommy kink, too. Just wandering to you, simply for either your comfort or assistance in taking care of his hard cock🥴 He’d always need someone there he could go to just in case he felt like begging his Mommy to cum. Sunoo would always return the favour too, by sucking on your tits, and licking them until you’re a mess. You know because he’s a gentleman🤭 He'd be so whiny, and his whimpers would be constant and at such a high pitch. You would have to clamp a hand around his mouth if he was being too loud. Wouldn’t want the other members to hear! Or would he like that? Sunoo would like showing off his hickeys, especially the ones along his pretty collarbones. There was nothing to be ashamed of, and really, he was prideful. Maybe he would also enjoy moaning so loud the other members could hear and gain their own hard issues🤭 He would have already made it a reality several times. Being the type of boy who was unable to hold in his sweet whines whenever you rubbed his clothed cock beneath the blanket during movie times. The boys would turn red, and some would glance toward the smiling, too-cute sunshine. It had such a thrill to it, and a plus was that everybody knew you were his, and he was yours, and that was not to be tempered with. So, Sunoo would whimper once more the next time you gave his bulge a squeeze beneath the dinner table, almost dampening his pants with his cum when Sunghoon would shuffle opposite of him. Biting his lip and lowering his hand to his crotch to hide something. Clearing his throat awkwardly..

Something in me also says he would love to have his ass eaten, but I don’t know if that’s just me because I’d really want to do that😓 He’d be so clean and well-cared for, there would really be no worry. Just imagine him trembling. Knees buckling, and arms collapsing at the elbow, making it hard for him to remain on all fours. He’s shaking and crying out your name. Moaning, whimpering, whining. Choked back sobs of overwhelming pleasure would fill the room as you massage his cheeks and spread them further apart. Tease his pink hole with the pad of your finger and press as well as rub on it eagerly. Getting wetter by the second with the noises his pretty lips were spewing. His eyes would glisten with tears and his lashes would be damp, but closed while he lets himself fall into the pleasure of your tongue lapping at his hole. Prodding and pressing flat between his cheeks until he was a moaning, quivering mess. Cock so hard it was leaking against his skin and dripping down his sides. Making a big mess of himself and the bed.🤭

an: i hope this is good enough, i've written smut for a while on wattpad n such but hard hrs n thoughts r new! i enjoy doing them n i'm rlly appreciating the asks. thank u also for the follows<33

[wooahaeruby]

Chapter 13: Sky Walking

Chapter Word Count: 5,435

TW

1) Mouse has Trauma 2) Use of drugs. Smoke weed everyday. Leafblower Special. 3) Mouse disassociates for a while 4) Mentions of ODing / Childhood Trauma / Cops suck in this story. (read at your own discretion) 5) Mouse and Someone else in SVT trauma bond. 6) At the beginning, Mouse goes through the numb depression motions.

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You didn’t get a single moment of rest. Each time you closed your eyes, the feeling of dried blood that you knew wasn’t there clung to your hands and the image of Mingyu’s body on the table as you gave him CPR flashed. The continuous beating line on the heart monitor gave you reassurance as the time passed. 

Just as Jeonghan said, Jihoon and him switched off duties of coming to check on Mingyu and change out bags of saline when the previous one was finished. At some point you gave up counting how often they came, staying curled up in your seat, glad to have the blanket wrapped around you in the cold room. Both had asked if you needed anything and each time you shook your head, falling deeper and deeper into your thoughts. 

He was going to be okay, you had a good feeling in your chest about it. He’d wake up and try to play everything off and act like he was fine when he was in a lot of pain. He’d complain that everyone’s cooking was subpar compared to his but would eat every last piece of it to make them happy. Maybe he’d let you cook for him and show off what you thought were pretty good cooking skills to give him well rounded meals during his recovery. Mingyu would need all the rest he could get before even stepping foot out of the house, knowing they’d take him back to the house to recover comfortably in his own bed. 

When the door opened next, you turned, thinking you’d see Jeonghan since Jihoon had checked in last, but Seungcheol stood at the doorway with a paper bag in one hand and a tray with two coffee cups in the other. He had changed from the suit he had on last night into dark jeans and an oversized gray sweater. Sitting up, you gave him a curious look but didn’t voice any question. He lumbered his way to the seats still across the bed from you and slid into one, placing the items he brought on one of the other chairs. 

“It’s six in the morning.” His deep voice was full of fatigue, the bags under his eyes dark. He didn’t look like he slept. “Seokmin grabbed your coffee order and a bagel.” Seungcheol lifted the paper bag and pulled one bagel out before handing the bag to you. Once the bag was in your hand, he took the coffee cup and passed it over. Hesitantly, you released Mingyu’s hand, you didn’t let go of it once throughout the night since you sat down. 

The hot cup felt amazing against your cold fingers. Taking a quick sip, it burned your mouth but it was too good to stop. The warmth spread through your limbs and your shoulders relaxed. 

“Seokmin put in that you both were sick and needed a few days off. Wonwoo manufactured some doctor’s notes.” 

“Thank you.” 

He grunted in response, drinking his own cup, letting his eyes land on Mingyu. “Anything?” 

With a quick shake of your head, you pulled your knees to your chest, using one hand to move the blanket around you. “Nothing. He’s breathing fine, he took two units of blood in total, heart rate hasn’t faltered all night.” 

“Did you get any sleep?” 

Pausing, you were going to answer but closed your mouth, chewing on your bottom lip. “I could ask the same of you.” 

“Touche…”

“Did anyone else?” You asked, sipping from your cup once more. 

Seungcheol sighed out a heavy breath. “Most of them passed out from exhaustion. Seokmin fell asleep in a chair, Soonyoung was curled up on the floor with all the couch pillows with Chan knocked out last I checked. Vernon took Seungkwan back to the penthouse once they left so hopefully they got some sleep. Joshua, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, and Jihoon are all passed out on the couches we have up in the office. I think Minghao and Junhui went back to the penthouse too, but I doubt they got any sleep.” 

“Does this…” You didn’t know how to word it. “Does stuff like this happen often?” 

“What, getting shot? We try not to make it a constant thing.” A smidge of humor was in his tired words. “Last one was Jihoon about a year ago. He was helping break up a fight in Ruby and the asshole had a gun and it misfired in the struggle.”  

Forcing out a breath, you nodded, shaking the mental image away. You thought of Jihoon in a similar situation as Mingyu last night and your already lost appetite was gone tenfold. Trying your best to mask the discomfort, you drank the coffee and focused back on Mingyu’s breathing. It seemed Seungcheol was doing the same, nibbling on a piece of the bagel he got and sipping his coffee. It wasn’t often you two ended up in the same place alone, usually someone was accompanying you at the house. 

“Oh-” You just remember that he literally had you brought over last night to speak with him. Seungcheol perked up. “Why was I needed last night?” 

Blinking a few times, his face contorted, mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed together, and a confused look on his face. “Uh- Oh! Right, I was going to inform you about the Gala. It’s in a month. Jeonghan said he had some things planned and would handle everything before you were brought to the house to get dressed before we all leave.” 

“I feel like I should be scared of whatever he has planned.” You snort out a quiet laugh. 

“Personally, I would be scared.” 

You both shared a short laugh that mellowed into silence again. Though you never touched the bagel, you continued with the coffee, hoping it would keep you awake as long as possible. 

Many of the guys visited throughout the day. Seungcheol had left, saying he had a few things to get done upstairs and to call if you needed anything. Jeonghan only came in once to change a saline bag and push a few vitamins to aid in the healing process. He said he’d be back later and ruffled your hair like he did the previous night. 

First it was Chan and Wonwoo who mostly sat with you and brought up stories that Mingyu was in. Chan spoke about him like he was part superhero and Wonwoo played along, making the story out bigger than it probably was. They stayed for a good hour and you enjoyed the company to fill the void that was building inside of you. Chan had given Mingyu’s hand a big squeeze and smiled, but his voice wavered when he asked for him to wake up soon, that it was getting too quiet without his loud, boisterous personality awake. Wonwoo had kept any comments to himself, but you saw him bow his head in prayer before leaving with Chan. 

Seungkwan and Vernon only stopped in for a bit, clearly exhausted but dressed for whatever they needed to get done for the day. These two were relatively quiet in their visit, asking if you got any sleep which you brushed off and they didn’t give that straight of an answer when you asked in return. Vernon made a comment that they’d visit once they were done later in the day. Both had asked you to give them a call if anything was to change regarding Mingyu’s condition, which you easily agreed to. 

The largest horde was Soonyoung barging in in the afternoon, followed by Seokmin, Minghao, Junhui, and Jihoon, but the last man was really coming in for his given task. Junhui had made food for everyone earlier and brought extra for you, saying he heard from Chan that you were staying until Mingyu was awake. Though you took the container of food, you only placed it aside, letting it join the bagel bag from earlier, saying that you’d eat it later when you got hungry. It was the best white lie you could tell at this time, not wanting to worry them too much. Many of them were dressed in what you assumed was their ‘ dark side’ attire, thick boots, dark clothes, all the works.

Seokmin was eyeing you a good majority of the time he was there but he didn’t say anything if you looked bad. You more than likely did look disheveled, your lip was bitten to the point it bled earlier but it dried over and hurt. He only said he’d come back later to keep you company, giving you a side hug before they slipped out one by one. 

Then it was quiet again. You were left alone again to your own devices and thoughts. Truthfully you couldn’t think straight, images and memories bounced around your mind, they were close to sending you into a downward spiral but you willed away the mental torment to the best of your abilities. You didn’t feel hungry, at this point you didn’t even feel tired. Your limbs were numb and no matter if you tucked further in the blanket, you were still cold. 

You didn’t even realize Jeonghan was in the room until he placed his hand on your shoulder and you snapped back to reality, flinching at his touch. 

“Ay- Wow, it’s just me, Mouse.” He pulled his hand back and slid a chair up beside you. “Did you not hear me come in? I said hi.” 

“Sorry- Sorry…” Sighing, you placed a hand over your chest, feeling the fast pace of your heart. “I was zoning out- I- Sorry.” 

Jeonghan leaned in, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear to get a better look at your face. His fingers were warm against your cool skin and you couldn’t help but lean into the feeling. Gently he held your face, watching as your eyes fluttered closed and you sighed out a soft breath.

“You should get some sleep, Mouse. He isn’t going to be gone when you wake up.” 

Those words had your eyes snapping open and you straightened up, shaking your head. “I can’t- No. I can’t fall asleep.” You pushed the words to come out, digging your nails into your palms. You couldn’t fall asleep. You wouldn’t let yourself rest until he was awake and coherent enough to understand what was going on. 

Jeonghan sagged in his seat, stretching his arm over your shoulders to bring you close to his side. “Will you at least eat then? Just a little? I think ‘Gyu would be a little mad knowing that you didn’t eat because you wanted to wait up for him.” 

You whined and rested your head on his shoulder, a pout on your lips. “How dare you use manipulation and guilt tripping on me.” 

“Ah~ But are you going to eat? Junhui makes really good spicy noodles. Even lowered the heat intensity since he doesn’t know your tolerance.” 

“...Fine.” 

Reaching for the container, you pulled it into your lap, glad he provided some utensils, and under Jeonghan’s watch, you ate. It was good, really good and the spice was able to warm your frigid body enough. You let Jeonghan hold onto you, sapping the warmth he provided and listened to his quiet humming. Though at some points it was hard to eat, you swallowed enough down to satisfy the man beside you before closing it and placing the rest aside for later. 

It was nice having Jeonghan beside you. He provided a peaceful lull in the ache in your chest and settled the unruly thoughts that plagued your mind. He didn’t seem like one to judge you, maybe only when teasing you did he feel the need. Though annoying at times, his presence was enjoyable and always entertaining at the end of the day. He was already ready to listen when you complained over text and seemed like a shoulder to cry on when needed. Weird to think, but he was one of the people that felt like home along with Seokmin. 

The two of you sat, side by side, Jeonghan kept you close, letting himself take moments to rest his eyes. For what felt like hours, no one disturbed the stillness here. All that was heard was the sound of Mingyu and Jeonghan’s breathing and the occasional beep from a machine. Jeongahn was definitely asleep on your shoulder - not that you minded, he worked hard last night – and your eyes were getting irritated from no reset. 

Your eyes were focused on a pulled thread from the blanket Mingyu was tucked in with. Pulling it was a dumb idea, but the itch under your skin begged you to just tug it and rip it off. For a second you thought you were going to lose it, it had been too long since you stayed up all night, you weren’t a teenager anymore. 

While staring, you swore you saw Mingyu’s hand twitch. Refocusing your attention on the man, relief flooded through you when you saw his eyebrow twitch. Quickly you started to pat at Jeonghan’s leg, brushing his arm off your shoulder to stand and lean over the bed. Jeonghan was quick to react, bleary eyes blinking away any sleep that he could in case it was an emergency. He groggily voiced some concern but you didn’t hear anything. 

Mingyu’s eyes were starting to peel open, grimacing at the harsh lights of the room bleeding in through his cracked open eyes. You took his hand in both of your own, your heart beating so fast it might have you pass out. 

“Hey…hey, bud…” You said so softly, brushing some hair from his face when he turned his head. Tears were threatening to pour out of your eyes. A sound grumbled out of him and you cooed at him, a wobbly smile spreading across your lips. “It’s okay, ‘Gyu…”

He cursed when he tried to move some more but you quickly soothed him, placing one hand on his clothed chest to settle him. When his eyes fully opened, he took in his surroundings properly, sighing out a complaint of pain through his nose. Jeonghan had gotten up to round the bed and view Mingyu from the other side. 

“What-” His voice was hoarse and he tried to clear his throat but it didn’t help much. “How long have I been out?” 

“Almost twenty-four hours,” Jeonghan’s voice was just as soft when answering, a tight lipped smile was holding back the emotions he wouldn’t let spill over. “You scared us all half to death.” 

“ ‘M sorry.” He murmured out, but you only laughed, pushing his hair back. 

“No need to apologize, as long as you were here, that’s all that matters.” 

You stayed until he was coherent enough to ask for food and complained that beer was the best medicine. Both you and Jeonghan called everyone and they dropped everything they were doing to rush to Mingyu’s bedside. When he was in loving, safe hands, you asked Seungcheol for someone to drive you home, preferably not any of the guys since they wanted to be beside their brother. 

When you entered your apartment, you crashed hard. You couldn’t be bothered to change before crawling into the confines of your blankets and passed out. It was one of the best-worst sleeps of your life, you were happy to be asleep but terrified of the ongoing thoughts that haunt your dreams. You slept for twelve hours, it startled you when you saw the time on your phone. Seokmin and Jeonghan had sent text messages that only increased in volume the longer you didn’t reply. As you stared confused at your phone, a call came in from Jeonghan and you swiped to answer. 

“Hello?” 

“ Jesus, did you just wake up? You left over twelve hours ago, I was worried something happened.” 

Rubbing your eyes with one hand, you curled up on your side, yawning. “Yeah, I passed out once my head hit the pillow. I guess I was more tired than I felt.” 

“ Hmm, well Mingyu wants you back here to keep him company. If nothing changes by tomorrow night, he is begging to go home so we might take him back up to the house.” 

You nodded but remembered he couldn’t see you, and verbalized your ‘ okay’. He went on to say he’d be there in half an hour to pick you up and said goodbye. 

Jeonghan was true to his words in allowing Mingyu to go home. You were thankful he was alright despite the tremendous pain and eager to sleep in his own bed that was big enough for him and his long limbs. That’s how you found yourself seated in the back of Minghao’s SUV with Mingyu’s head on your lap. Seokmin had called shotgun and now it was the four of you hearing the injured man complain each time there was a pothole or bump in the road. Many of the others had work to tend to and would meet up back at the house later. You messaged Wonwoo to let him know you guys were on the way so he was prepared to help lug Mingyu to his room upon arrival. 

Really, getting him into the car was easy somehow, but getting him out of the car? He was whining like a baby and protesting whenever someone moved too fast. It was his stupid idea to lay across the backseats, it would have been easier to drop the backseats and lay him flat in the back with some pillows and padding to make it easier to get him out. When he was finally standing and huffing out tired breaths to compensate for the spent energy, it took Seokmin and Wonwoo to slowly walk him through the house and get him into bed. 

You trailed behind with a bag full of his things slung over your shoulder that another member brought yesterday. Wonwoo pushed Mingyu’s door open and you stopped at the threshold, not wanting to break the barrier of personal quarters. Jeonghan’s room was the only other place outside of the office in the house that was a more private space. The interior was a mix of black and white, medium-light colored wood as accents to the scheme. His bed was huge, probably a King-bed of some type, it wouldn’t surprise you if it was custom made exactly for him. He had a gaming set up in the corner, a few monitors and you would have laughed at the bright blue dog-ear headset. 

“Mouse, you can come in.” Mingyu called from where he sat on his bed, taking a moment before moving any more. 

“Uh- right. Yeah.” Shifting from foot to foot for a moment, you stepped inside and placed his bag at the foot of his bed. “Do you need anything?” 

With a shake of his head, he smiled and his shoulders shook as he laughed silently. “I’ll be okay. And thanks for everything, guys.” He said to Seokmin, Wonwoo, and Minghao but his eyes landed on you once more. “And thank you, Mouse. You helped a lot from what Jihoon and Vernon told me.” 

Mingyu got into bed with more ease than getting him up from the bed back at the warehouse. Wonwoo pulled the covers over him but you fussed a bit, making sure his phone was placed on his nightstand in easy reach and asking one last time if he needed something. He brushed you off and sent you out of the room with the rest, saying to wake him up when food was made. 

You had stepped out onto the back patio after parting from Mingyu and found solace under an umbrella to hide from the sun but enjoy the hot air. Being here at the house was one of the only times you could enjoy the outdoors without the constant noise of the busy city streets bothering you. Oftentimes you wished you could afford a home outside of the concrete jungle you lived in to have solitude and room to breathe truly fresh air. 

“Oh- Mouse, hey.” Vernon’s voice found its way to your ears and you turned to see him exit the back sliding doors. “Mingyu is home then, good.” 

“Mmm, yeah, he is probably knocked out in his room.” The response hummed out of you. “What are your plans?” 

“Ah-” He paused, mouth wide open and averted his gaze, trying to think of a good answer, but it was clear none came. “Honestly…I was going to smoke a bowl and stare at the ceiling for a while.” 

That sounded amazing after the last couple of days…

“Vernon,” You scratched the back of your neck and puffed out a breath. “Can I join you?” 

He didn’t bother hiding the surprise that spread across his features and one eyebrow raised high. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I think I need it.” 

With one more moment of hesitation, he shrugged and walked towards one of the sheds with a little bounce to his step. “If we get in trouble, it’s your idea.” 

Chuckling quietly as you trailed behind, you nodded. “Got it, I’m just ready to get higher than a kite.” 

As Vernon threw the door open to the shed, he spread his arms wide and spun around, walking backwards until his knees hit the back of the blanket covered couch at the far end of the building and sunk into it. “Welcome to DJ Leafblower’s Sanctuary. Very few are allowed in and when they do get invited, they leave relaxed.” 

It was a pretty small space but it was dark and comforting. It smelled strong of weed but that only added to the hippie vibe. He reached over to hit a button and the small area came to life with different types of colored lights and designs moving on the ceiling. Now you could see why he was going to stare at it for a while, it all made sense now.

“You make this sound like something completely different.” You closed the door behind you and crashed on the couch beside him, kicking off your slides and tucking your legs in criss-cross. “Also- DJ Leafblower? Did you name yourself that?” 

“Yes.” He said proudly and you only shook your head, laughing under your breath. 

“Whatever, let's just get this going.” 

If you tried to count on your fingers how many hits you took, you would have ten- wait…no five…everything looked a little funny. 

You don’t know where in between hits you and Vernon ended up on the cushioned, blanket covered floor, laying opposite directions but your heads beside one another. The light designs that shifted around on the ceiling were mesmerizing in your inebriated state, every time you slow-blinked they changed and you were even more fascinated by it. This was the most relaxed you’ve been in a long time and you didn’t want the feeling to end. 

“You know-” The words came out slow from Vernon, “I thought we lost him there for a moment.” 

Processing the sentence had you closing your eyes for a moment, humming back. “I couldn’t let another person die.” 

Vernon turned his head to you and you maneuvered to lay on your side, able to see his face but too unfocused to see his expression. “Another person?” He asked quietly. 

“My parents.” 

Silence filled the shed. The lights continued to move. You swore you could feel the earth move with how high you were. 

“Mouse…” Vernon sounded so…sorrowful if you had to point a word to it. “Is that why you didn’t sleep?” 

“Mhmm.” You don’t know why you were speaking about it, in your relaxed state it was too easy to just let the sob story – well, you thought of it as a sob story – spill out. “They ODed when I was a kid, like six.” 

“Fuck dude.” He sat up and turned to sit and face you. “That’s horrible.” 

You gave a quiet chuckle and shrugged. “When I saw Mingyu on the table, I had flashbacks to my parents on the floor in the living room, minus the blood and all. I kept picturing their faces on him, how lifeless they looked, how pale they looked. There was fucking needles on the ground beside their bodies. I just-” Sighing, you closed your eyes, “I couldn’t have that same feeling. I needed Mingyu to live.”  

You slowly sat up and everything around you spun for a moment. “What makes it worse? Those bastard cops, the ones that came when I called 911, brushed it under the rug because who wants the fact that a cop ODed with his stay at home wife while their daughter was sleeping written all over your police station and the small town news.” 

Vernon looked like he didn’t know how to respond, but the words continued to spill out. “I told them that I saw the guy's face that sold it to them but they never believed me, saying I was just making it up. Who the fuck makes that shit up? I saw the drug dealer that sold them laced stuff and no one cared. My family, god those assholes too, didn’t want the fucked up kid so I went into foster care, which sucked by the way. I tried to reach out to them but they told me never to contact them again. I bounced around from small town to small town for years after that. I got a scholarship to the university here in the city and I never looked back. I’ve had this fucked up sense that it was all my fault, like they turned to drugs because I wasn’t a perfect kid.” 

There was a smile on your face the whole time like the entire story was some kind of joke. You reached out and lit the put out joint, taking a long drag. “I learned later that they blacked out all and any information that my dad reached out to his commanders for help. The entire police report from the day I found them was blacked out too. Sick fucking bastards.” Every word that left you was said with hate. You took another long drag and handed it over to Vernon who gladly accepted it. He met your eyes, the expression he wore soft and in no way filled with pity. “If I ever see the guy that sold those drugs to them, Vernon…I swear I’ll kill him myself…” 

Vernon’s mind was fuzzy but he nodded, seemingly a mutual understanding of the feeling. “My sister and I…our parents were killed in a hit and run when we were young.” Hearing him start, your attention, while slow to focus, was drawn to him, watching as he stared up at the ceiling. “Because it was local gang shit and the cops were lazy as hell, we didn’t get any justice. We were sent off to our grandmother’s but she was old and couldn’t really take care of us. There wasn’t enough money so I stole to get by. Really I wanted to shield my sister from it.” 

“Is she-?” 

“She is going to college this year. When I joined SVT a few years back, I made them promise to help me pay for her education and I’d do what they needed. Mainly blackmail, weed growing and sales, shit like that. I’m not doing stuff like Chan, Minghao, and them. I’m mainly on Wonwoo’s side with work.” 

You nodded, laying back down beside him, letting your eyes follow the lights on the ceiling. 

“If I knew who those gang members were, I’d kill them in a heartbeat right now and I’m not the most coordinated with a gun.” Vernon let out a small huff of a laugh. “But we always have someone with my sister even if she is just being watched, if anything was to happen to her, I’d have justice as quick as I could. I’d raise hell and heaven to make sure she is resting in peace. I hope you find the guy that did it, it's an eye for an eye at that point.” 

“Thanks for not thinking I’m crazy.” 

“Crazy?” Vernon let out a loud laugh, shoulders shaking to the point where his arm knocked against yours. “We are laying in a shed where I smoke a fuck ton of weed on a property that Seungcheol built and prospered with mainly mafia money. Mouse, we are in a fucking action movie and honestly it gets boring.”

“Has anyone seen Vernon?” Seungkwan called through the living room, frowning. “I can’t find him.” 

The sun had set and almost all of the members were back at the house. He had gone in and checked on Mingyu who was knocked out, tucked snuggly under the comforter. Seungkwan had gone to Vernon’s room to hang out but came up short. He didn’t get any text messages that Vernon was leaving the property. 

“I swear you are usually attached to the hip,” Soonyoung shuffled around the kitchen, laughing at him. “Have you checked the shed?” 

Jeonghan entered the living room, looking at the group of members littering the area. “Have any of you seen, Mouse?” 

“No idea. Usually Seokmin knows where she is but he went back to the city for something. I haven’t really seen her since we got Mingyu into bed.” Minghao was lazied on the couch, a book hovering above his head as he scanned the pages. 

“I’m going to check the shed.” Seungkwan huffed, having a feeling that none of them would be of any help. “I’ll let you know if Mouse is in there.” 

Turning on his toes, he jogged out the back door and towards DJ Leafblower’s shed. He couldn’t see anything inside with the blocked out windows but a quick pull of the door gave him his answer. 

Mouse and Vernon were sitting back against the foot of the couch, heads leaned back as they stared at the ceiling. A blanket was thrown over their legs but the cloud of smoke that left the small building gave him a clear answer to the current state they were in. 

“No, all I’m saying is that if you want a really good bowl of soup, you need to let me cook..” Mouse rambled off and Vernon nodded along, “I make amazing soup, Vernon. I’m telling you.” 

“Nah, nah, I believe you, but soup is so…overrated.” 

Mouse gasped and slapped her hand against his arm. “ Take it back .” 

“You both are idiots.” Seungkwan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Vernon high is bad enough.” 

Both Mouse and Vernon lifted their heads and beamed at him. Truthfully his heart melted a little. They looked like little kids when their favorite person came into the room. 

“Seungkwan!” Vernon waved his hand and motioned for him to join them. “Kwan, Kwan, come tell Mouse the thing you were telling me about. About Jeonghan.” 

Seungkwan slapped a hand to his face and sighed once more. Of course he remembers that now. “No, Nonnie, I’m not going to talk about that while both of you are smoking.” 

“Why not?” Mouse questioned, resting her head on Vernon’s shoulder. “I wanna know the tea on Jeonghan.” 

He stepped inside and shut the door, pulling out his phone to send Jeonghan a text that they were in the shed, and sat down across from the two. “Because the tea shouldn’t be talked about when your head is in the clouds.” 

She whined, pouting. “That’s dumb.” 

“No, you are for smoking whatever concoction of weed Vernon had on hand.”

“The Leaf Blower special.” Vernon laughed.

Seungkwan mockingly muttered the words under his breath but leveled them both with a judgemental gaze. “Are you guys hungry? If you come inside, we can get you some of the chicken tenders Mingyu keeps in the freezer.”

“Tendies sound amazing.” Mouse giggled, “Do you have other trash food?” 

He was going to die by the end of the night because of them. “There are probably some pizza rolls and french fries in there. I think Shua brought home two dozen cinnamon rolls too.” 

“Seungkwan, I’d kiss you right now but I feel like jelly.” Mouse was looking at him like he was a literal god among men. 

“Please do not,” He started, continuing to talk under his breath but didn’t realize how loud he actually was, “Jeonghan wouldn’t be happy about that.” 

She frowned, confusion twisting across her face. “Why would he be mad about that?” 

Vernon grinned. “Because Jeonghan like likes you, Mouse.” 

“Oh for fucks sake-” 

“Wait- What?” 

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Tag List:

@unlikelysublimekryptonite @iiaweirdo @aurorajoye

[cheeriecherrymain]

Can I request Viktor x female reader cuddling & making out with maybe some tension but no actual NSFW content?

I tried my best! I kind of ran away with the prompt in my mouth and chewed it, so it's maybe changed a bit, but only Slightly.

---

Viktor x fem!Reader

-You know that Viktor has been worried about you. You’d barely seen each other at all throughout the past seven days - usually you’d find him during your lunch hour, bringing him (and sometimes Jayce) a little snack and a cup of coffee. Sometimes you’d packed him lunch in the morning, if you knew you’d be busy.

-But this week? This week, you hadn’t the time to do any of that. You’d been out of bed and off to work long before he’d so much as woken, and you returned home late after he’d gone to bed. Such wouldn’t be so concerning, if he wasn’t the kind of person who already kept terrible hours.

-So when you trudge into your apartment, silent aside from the click of your stupid, heeled shoes, you’re…surprised to see the lights still on. Not only are they on, but there’s music softly humming from another room, and something delectable permeates the air of your home.

-You don’t even bother with putting things away; you just drop your bag by the front door, kick your shoes off, and stumble further inwards. You peek into each room as you pass it by, most of them dark and with no sign of movement from within.

-Until you get to your bedroom.

-The lights are blessedly dim, though enough to illuminate the area well enough for Viktor to see. Viktor, who lounges quietly on your shared bed in his pajamas, a novel in his lap and holding his attention stronger than he probably intended it to.

-Your movement in the corner of his eye is what alerts him to your presence, his gaze snapping up to you in a brief, startled moment, before he realizes you’re not some kind of intruder and relaxes.

-You smile tiredly at him, sighing deeply when he dog-ears the pages he’s on and sets the book aside.

- “Sorry I’m so late,” you croak, fumbling with the buttons of your blouse as you approach his waiting arms. “You didn’t have to stay up for me, though. I don’t want you to miss out on any more sleep than you usually do-”

-He scoots towards you on the bed when you find your shirt too difficult to work with, gesturing you forwards. You sigh again, but do as he says, allowing him to carefully untuck the soft material from the waist of your trousers to begin popping the buttons open, one by one.

- “It’s friday,” he says, diligently helping you shrug your top off. “And I knew you’d be tired after losing half your employees. I took the weekend off, so you won’t have to worry about anything around here.”

-You kick your pants off next, leaving them piled on the floor for tomorrow-you to deal with, and start trying to crawl into bed.

-Viktor, however, stops you.

-You whine petulantly, pouting like a child while he quietly insists you take all of your work clothes off. Undershirt, socks, bra. “You’re going to have a sore back if you keep everything on,” he tells you, and even though you know he’s right, you still sulk while he further assists you out of your clothing.

-He presses tender kisses to each new section of skin he reveals, first your neck, and the curve of your shoulder, then the center of your chest, above your heart. It doesn’t take much prompting for you to stoop down to catch his mouth with your own, slotting your lips against his.

-You press him down onto the mattress, just slightly, nudging him backwards until you can perfectly crawl over him. Your lips never part from one another, warm and hot against each other. 

-His tongue, sliding against yours, the prettiest flush beginning to rise to the curve of his cheeks. His hands, slowly dipping and walking over every curve of your form, kneading the soft fat of your thighs and tummy, before finding purchase on the slant of your hips.

-Squeezing gently.

-You kiss him harder.

-He squeezes again, carefully, sweetly. Pushing you away.

-You pull back from him, entirely perplexed by his actions. It had been an entire week since you’d really spent any time together - even longer since you’d basked in life’s more carnal pleasures. You knew it was one of the surest ways to help him unwind after work, to let him touch you and feel you however he pleased. For him to earn every little gasp and cry that came out of you.

-He must see the utter confusion in your foggy expression, because he smiles at you with the utmost love and affection, and presses a kiss to the tip of your nose.

- “You’re exhausted,” he tells you, as if it isn’t obvious. “We’ll have time over the weekend to enjoy each other, but for now, you need to sleep.”

-You aren’t even able to muster the strength to argue with him, instead choosing to flop over sideways with a whine. Viktor laughs quietly at your antics, kissing you again and again as he maneuvers you beneath the soft cotton sheets of your bed.

-He quickly flicks the lamp beside the bed off, and curls up beside you. Wrapping an arm over your hip, pressing one last smooch to the crown of your head. “Sleep well, my love,” he murmurs against your hair, though you’re none the wiser, already cast into the swells of sleep.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 20 - But You Were Never Normal

Description: After receiving some extremely unexpected news, you were suddenly forced to confront certain things from your past.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 3859 (2263 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Over the next two days, your mood consistently got progressively worse.    As your strength returned, you were allowed to move around freely, but you weren’t allowed to leave the med-chamber until you’d completed a full assessment of your abilities.    And because of how quickly your powers drained you, the Science Department wouldn’t agree to do that until they’d come up with an acceptable alternative to regular foods.

   Which meant that people were constantly running in and out with pieces of experimental nutritional little cubes they wanted you to try, not to check if they were actually edible, just whether or not they had the intended effect. Flavour and texture would be added later, so it was basically like chewing cardboard.    On top of that, you were still struggling with the fact that you were lying to Marcus, getting more and more anxious for some answers so you could go ahead and tell him everything.

   And to make matters worse, Missy was allowed to visit you as much as she wanted but your partner was kept on a strict once-a-day regimen, and only with staff present, courtesy of your continued inability to keep your hands off each other.    It felt a bit excessive, but you’d accepted that things needed to be like this for the time being, since the two of you weren’t exactly harmless together.

   Over the weekend he’d opted to just bring Missy during his “visitation”, where the three of you had hung out for a few hours, and it was the only thing keeping you from going stir crazy with the isolation.    Your doctor was much more lenient about him being there while Missy was present, and especially since Amaire took turns watching you, so you were never alone. But being confined to one room and not getting to chose when you wanted company, or from who, was starting to feel a lot like a prison.

   But on Monday, Marcus showed up without his daughter, and the moment he walked through the doors, you could tell he wanted to talk about something important, or unpleasant. There was a hard set to his jaw and a slight hesitation in his stride.    And since you were already in a mood, after having about a dozen cardboard cubes shoved down your throat before dinner, none of which had produced the desired results, you weren’t looking forward to any serious talks.

   “What is it?” you snapped before he’d had a chance to say anything, and your tone was unfriendly enough that it made him stop and tilt his head to the side, with a mildly shocked huff.

   “Well, hello. How are you today? I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he shot back with a hefty dose of sarcasm, and although there was a laugh brewing somewhere in the back of his throat, it did nothing to lift your spirits.

   “I’m so not in the mood, babe,” you cautioned, sharply enough that he knew not to try and push any buttons. “Just tell me.”

   But he didn’t start talking right away. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and took a little stroll through the room.    You’d been pacing when he first walked in, but stopped to find out what he wanted, and now he was the one who didn’t seem to be able to stay still.

   “Um… I got an e-mail last night, from an address I didn’t know, and they were asking about you. So, I looked into it, wanting to make sure it wasn’t anything potentially dangerous,” he finally started, while coming to a stop next to the bed, on the opposite side to where you were standing.

   “Okay…” you said after he’d paused for a little too long, hoping to spur him into explaining further, but he still hesitated.

   It was extremely rare for this man to ever be fidgety, so seeing him like this, constantly looking for something to busy his hands with, whether it be your sheets or one of the machines attached to the bed, made you seriously nervous.

   “Well, it turns out… the e-mail is from your brother. Daniel.”

   You flinched so hard that it offset your balance and made you take a step back.    Of all the people you’d heard say that name, a part of you had hoped to never have to hear it from Marcus’ lips. A part of you had hoped he’d be kept safe from that darkness forever.

   “Fuck,” you breathed, abruptly more nervous than your partner.

   You started pacing again, unknowingly wringing your hands and running your fingers over the scars which were no longer there on your abdomen.    It had been a bad day from the start, but this was somehow the worst thing that could possibly have happened, turning it from bad to horrendous in one sentence.

   “Hermosa?” he tried, hoping to get your attention, but your mind was already a thousand miles away, swirling back towards memories you wanted anything but to revisit.

   Danny had no right to ask you for anything, ever. It didn’t matter why he’d reached out, or how he’d even known he could find you through Marcus, you weren’t going to listen to anything he had to say.

   “He wanted to kno-…”

   “Shut up!” you almost screamed at your partner, who jumped involuntarily at the unexpected panic in your voice. “Sorry… I’m so sorry, I just… I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me.”

   Turning away from him, you continued pacing, faster and faster, from one wall to the next, trying desperately to keep the flood of images out of your head.

   “What the hell did he do to you?” Marcus wondered quietly but with emphasis, unaware that the question sparked a giant surge of memories, not one of which would allow itself to be bottled back up.

   You closed your eyes against them, but once they started, they kept coming. They always did. Except this time, there were new parts of you reacting to what you were experiencing, and those reactions stood in direct proportion to the severity of the memories.    The last time you’d fallen into this pit of despair it had made you curl into a foetal position on your boyfriend’s lap. Now, it flooded the room with your shield, hopelessly trying to protect yourself against the past.

   It was so powerful it sent the bed careening into the opposite wall, forcing Marcus to quickly jump on top of it to avoid being crushed by it.    One of the twins was in the room, as always, and she had to duck and take cover under the desk when equipment came flying at her, hard enough to shatter against the walls, or leave big dents in them.

   “Okay, honey, I think you need to take a breath now,” she hurriedly suggested, but you barely even heard her.

   You were trapped by the reality of what had happened to you, and there was no way out. You’d always had to go through the flood to free yourself of it. Trying to avoid it had never worked.    Marcus scrambled off the bed the moment it came to a stop, so he was already on his way to you when Amaire spoke.    Once he reached you, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, softly and lovingly enough that it managed to break through the surge and let you come back to him.

   “Sweetheart are you with me?” he asked, and he sounded so scared for you.

   “Yeah, I’m here…” you managed in between strained breaths, shaking like a leaf while he repositioned his hands to your upper arms, making sure you met his eyes so he could see that you really were back in the room before he pulled you into a hug.

   But he couldn’t see or feel how much of your shield was still floating around you, filling the room with its strange density, and reminding you that you were still guarding yourself, which meant you didn’t feel safe yet.

   “Please, talk to me,” he begged, and he was in tears now, you could hear it in his voice. “Whatever this is, it has so much control over you… It’s never gonna let you go until you talk about it.”

   “I have talked about it. Just not to you,” you returned, verging on tears now yourself. “Not you. I don’t want this to touch you.”

   “But it already is. It hurts you, and therefore it hurts me. You know that,” he persisted, and you knew he was right, but it still felt wrong to put something so awful in his head.

   “Fuck. I hate this…” you cried, so ambiguous about the whole thing, it was making your head hurt.

   Of all the bad days you’d had in the past six months, this one was turning out to be one of the worst, just from the sheer weight of the past. It almost felt like a living thing, doing its damnedest to crush you and everyone you loved, for no other reason than that it could.

   “Let me tell you what the e-mail said,” Marcus kept going, apparently determined not to let this go, “and then you can decide if you wanna elaborate.”

   You thought about it for a minute. There were any number of reasons why Danny would try and contact you, but not one of them would be of any benefit to you. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible.    The main reasons you imagined were either him asking for your forgiveness, or more likely, needing money, neither of which you had any interest in giving him.

   “Fine,” you eventually agreed, not because you wanted to know, but because it dawned on you as you stood there in your partner’s arms, that he was the one who was being hurt worst by all this, and you couldn’t let that continue.

   He pulled back just enough that he could look at you, and he looked so pained it made you wish your family had never existed, just to spare him all this shit.

   “He wanted me to deliver a message to you… from your mother,” he started, and the sudden hatred which flooded your blood was so strong it made you jerk out of his arms and step back, so you wouldn’t accidentally harm him. “She, uh… is hospitalized and dying, and she wants to see you.”

   You froze. For what felt like minutes your body wouldn’t move with the shock you experienced in that moment. But inside, you were boiling.

   “Those sons of bitches… Those motherfucking sons of bitches!” you all but screamed, well and truly done with all of it.

   If your brother was a sore spot on your mind, your mother might as well have been a tumour in your brain.    In your thirty odd years of life, you’d gone through phases of desperately wanting to love her, pitying her, truly hating her, and finally just not able to care anymore. She was the fucking devil, as far as you were concerned, and she had long since lost the right to call herself your family.

   The fact that she would even attempt to reconnect with you after everything she’d done sparked a fury within your heart the likes of which you’d never known.    But it was a dark and horrible rage, bringing out the very worst parts of you, so when the floor, ceiling and walls all buckled as your power crammed even more energy into the room, you didn’t even realize that if you kept going, you could end up killing the people in there with you.

   All you could see, all you could hear were the memories, burning through you like a wildfire being whipped by a gale force wind. And all you wanted was to let it all burn.    Until Marcus’ hands fell heavy onto your shoulders, reminding you of where you were and what was actually happening. But your power didn’t deactivate, because suddenly you needed him to know.

   You’d tried to protect him from this for as long as you’d known him, but now, for the first time, it dawned on you how wrong you’d been. You should’ve told him from the start, not due to any difference it would’ve made to the power the memories had over you, but simply because it was these moments, these horrible moments, which had built you.    And despite all the pain and fear, they hadn’t managed to blacken your heart or turn you cold or uncaring.

   These memories were the ultimate testament to your character, and the man who loved you deserved to know them.

   You weren’t sure how, but experimenting with and manipulating the unknown energy you had access to, you managed to bring colour and texture into the unseen atmosphere of the room. As if merely a thin veil sat between your power and the air around you.    And like a stroke of magic, the images inside your eyes were suddenly playing out before all eyes present, as though there were a dozen little movie screens in there.

   Marcus let go of you, turning in circles as he tried to understand what he was seeing, as well as keep up with the story as your memories weren’t appearing in a linear order.    Each one played on repeat on its own little screen, but once he’d seen them all, the story came together by itself.    Amaire was still huddled underneath the desk, but you could hear her reactions as she too managed to work out your story.

   --The happiness you’d had in your life while your father had been alive. The wisdom, joy and sense of adventure he’d poured into your soul--

   --The moment you’d found out he’d died--

   --The day you’d buried him and said goodbye to happiness--

   --Your mother’s abuse, starting the day of the funeral and only getting worse as the years passed, blaming both of you for her inability to find a new man because you’d ruined her perfect body--

   --Trying so hard to protect the two-year younger Danny, antagonizing her so she’d focus on you and let him slip away while you took the beatings and the degradation--

   --Remaining loyal to the family when teachers questioned your wounds and bruises. Lying and evading their prodding because you knew she’d only get worse if she felt threatened--  

   --Trying to keep Danny away from the bad kids he started hanging around. The drugs and the guns and the violence, drawing him in with the promise of one day being able to exact revenge--

   --Protecting your mother from Danny once he’d tipped over the edge of what he could take, only to have her turn around and abandon you--

   --Trying to protect yourself from Danny when he started using you as a surrogate for your mother--

   --Calling the cops on him after he almost choked you to death, only to have him scream the same vile and horrible things at you as she had, even as they dragged him away--

   --Crawling over the kitchen floor, reaching the house phone and managing to call an ambulance just before you lost consciousness, after he’d stabbed you eight times in the chest and abdomen and left you for dead--

   --Defending yourself when he’d tried again, and then calling an ambulance for him--

   --Going to see him at the hospital, saying goodbye and then leaving town, walking away from that life for good--

   The images faded away as your strength failed, and just before your legs gave out, Marcus reached you, but sort of fell with you, landing you both in a pile on the floor in the middle of the room.    You were so tired, but you stubbornly stayed awake for him, because you could see a sorrow in his eyes you couldn’t compare to anything you’d ever seen before. He seemed to be holding on to you as much as he was trying to just hold you, while he cried as hard with you as he did for you.

   Over his shoulder, you could see Amaire sitting on the floor, holding onto one of the legs of the desk, as if she’d needed to ground herself while watching the memories.    She was a mother, and your friend, so seeing something like this must’ve rocked her to her core, as it would any decent person. You knew her and her sister well enough to know that theirs had been a loving, safe home, so she could only imagine the pain and fear you’d lived with. But she was also incredibly empathetic, so that imagination could take her quite far.

   All that aside, she was a professional caregiver. She’d seen and experienced a lot, and therefor knew how to compartmentalize when she was on the clock.    So, after a few minutes, when people appeared on the other side of the buckled and broken doors, she got up, wiped the tears away and went back to work.    There was noise and shouting as they worked to get through, but eventually Crushing Low was called in to simply rip the doors down, since they were beyond all hope of salvaging.

   Still, even after they’d gained access to the room again, no one approached you or Marcus, not even any doctors.    You suspected you’d have to thank Amaire for that later, since no one else could’ve convinced both the Medical and Science departments to leave their newest project alone after such a significant event.

   There was no telling how much time had passed when the tears finally started ebbing out and you and Marcus began to let go of one another, finding the room around you empty. It felt like a long time, though, and you were only more drained as a result.    But while you had started feeling better almost immediately after the flood of images had ended, your partner was the one who’d needed time to process, and you’d felt very strongly that you couldn’t have asked him to put his feelings on hold simply because you were tired.

   “I get it. I understand why you didn’t want me to know,” he finally croaked, with a voice made hoarse and raspy after so many tears.

   “Nothing good comes from it. All it’s ever done is taint the way people look at me, with pity or sorrow, making me feel like some broken trinket,” you admitted, and he immediately objected, just like you knew he would.

   “No, you’re not broken. If anything, this proves you’re practically unbreakable…”

   “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, because I realize now that I always knew you’d see it that way. I knew you wouldn’t treat me any different, I just… needed to believe it before I could take the risk.”

   “It’s okay, I understand,” he reassured you, putting a warm hand on your cheek for a moment.

   “I left it behind,” you continued, needing him to hear everything you’d wanted to tell him from the very beginning. “I know it doesn’t seem like it because of how I react to the memories, but I did. Especially after Prince. Because his so-called treatments healed all my scars from those days, helping me to let go of them.    Falling in love with you is what brought these strong reactions to the memories back, but only because of how different I am with you. Because where I used walls and shields to keep everyone out before, you make me want to share everything with you, and that’s really fucking scary at first.”

   “Of course… I can only imagine. You’re so brave to let me come so close to the things that scare you the most.”

   “I’m sorry that I needed you to see it, I know those images will never leave you.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I can take it. So long as I know you’re still with me, there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t recover from,” he smiled softly, but then something worrisome stole the comforting warmth from his eyes. “I see now why my actions after the prison hurt you so badly.    I left you alone with all that pain and fear… just like she did.”

   “Yeah. But if I’d told you about it sooner, you might’ve acted differently, so let’s not get caught up in blame.    You’ve earned my trust back, and my love was never in question. We made mistakes and we’ve learned from them, all we can do now is move on, right?” you posed, and it brought his smile back.

   “Thank you, Hermosa.”

   You leaned your forehead against his and just sat there for a minute in comfortable silence, absorbing the new understanding you had for each other now.    Until he decided you couldn’t put off the reality of what had brought you to this point, anymore.

   “So, I guess the only thing we have left to sort out, is the e-mail,” he sighed, and you mirrored him.

   “Last I knew, he wasn’t any closer to her than I was, so I don’t know why he’d even care if she really is dying. He was only fifteen when she bailed. Although I suppose it’s possible that the hospital reached out to him.    I changed my name and scrubbed all records of my relation to them, but he never did, so they might’ve been able to track him down. But why he’d agree to do anything on her behalf, I can’t even guess at.”

   You shook your head with equal parts confusion and fatigue, truly starting to feel the drain on your energy reserves now.

   “Maybe in his own way, he’s still looking for her approval,” Marcus suggested, and while it did sound plausible considering the person you were talking about, the places your thoughts went with that idea told you it was time to leave this subject, and not let your screwed-up family steal any more of your energy.

   “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in meeting either of them. I don’t owe them a god damned thing,” you firmly stated, meaning every word.

   “Good,” your partner approved with a little smile. “Then I think we should get some food into you before you pass out, mama bear.”

   “Hey, she hasn’t even growled yet,” you played along, because it was nice to return to some light-hearted banter after so much heaviness.

   “I know, but she will,” he hummed with amusement while getting up from the floor and then pulling you to your feet.

   Which was good, since your legs were so weak they barely held your weight. And just when you started heading for the broken door, as if on cue, your stomach growled, much to Marcus’ delight.

   “Don’t say it,” you cautioned, although without any actual warning in your voice.

   He apparently decided you’d been through enough for one day, and just smiled wider before he kissed you. The kind of kiss which wasn’t long or passionate, but still told you that he’d be there tomorrow, and next week, and next year. No matter how much weird shit or painful drama you threw at him.

[k-marzolf]

Restart.

A Monsters in the Dark Drabble.

Warnings; angst, mentions of Billy’s bad childhood and reader’s, language, fear of attachments, kissing, possessive behavior, fem!reader.

I’ve rewritten this more times than I can count, so I’m posting it for better or for worse.

@idaofinfinity @e-dubbc11 @rosaleenablack @firexfate @aoi-targaryen

Monsters in the Dark Masterlist

x

And I am done with my graceless heart, so tonight I’m gonna cut it out and then restart.

You knew you shouldn’t have been, but you were snooping in his office. You wanted to know where he went every week. It wasn’t your business, but curiosity killed the cat.

You ended up finding a picture of a woman and what presumably was Billy as a child. He was cute, you thought unable to tear your gaze away from the photo. He had her eyes, but neither were smiling in the photo.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Billy stood at the door looking thunderous.

“I just—“ you began, head snapping up.

“Get. Out.” He snarled, cutting you off, snatching the photo out of your hand, his face contorted in fury.

“Wanted to know Billy.” You whispered, brushing past him, your throat burning with the effort to keep from crying.

“By invading my privacy?” He seethed from behind you. You sniffed, and god Billy almost pulled you into his arms, knowing what you’d been through with your father.

But he didn’t need or want your pity.

He was going to kick you out, you just knew it. You began making contingency plans. You wouldn’t be homeless again with nowhere to go, you swore.

x

“Billy’s mad at me,” you whispered into your tea, sitting with Curtis.

“He’ll cool off. He just doesn’t want your pity. Billy’s very independent that way.” Curtis said, having coffee himself.

“I don’t, though. My daddy didn’t want me, either. If anything I felt understood, but I’ve gone and blown it.” You said, keeping out that you’d been sleeping with Billy.

Your chest ached knowing you’d have to sleep on your own tonight. That the memories of your father would likely resurface, scaring you. You chewed your lips until they were bloody.

Curtis extended his leg, he looked like he was in pain. “Don't chew your lips,” he scolded, lightly dabbing at the blood there. You had a habit of worrying at your lips, something Curtis often scolded you for, “Want me to talk to him?” He asked, pulling the cloth away from your lips.

“No, it’ll make it worse.” You said, finishing your tea.

Curtis hummed, “It’ll be okay, Billy’s stubborn but I can tell he cares about you, even if he doesn’t say. He’s not good with emotions.” He explained sipping his coffee.

You hoped Curtis was right, because you’d grown to care for Billy, even knowing he wasn’t entirely good, and made his living out of violence.

You trusted him, and even as angry as he got, he hadn’t struck you. He’d been controlled.

You only wished his anger hadn’t hurt so much. A curse of feeling everything strongly, everything felt so deeply.

x

Billy couldn’t fucking sleep. The image of your eyes filled with tears stuck in his head, that he’d caused them. But more than that he missed your warm body next to his, the feeling of your even breaths, and soft snores, the way you played with the scar at his hip before you went to sleep every night. You always had a fixation with it.

You were the only woman he’d let into his bed. It was his one safe space, but he hadn’t been able to turn you away that night you’d begged to sleep with him.

And now he was attached to you. The very thing he hated, because it meant he could be vulnerable again. Sometimes he wanted to cut his heart out, it would make life so much easier.

The woman who was supposed to love him, had abandoned him. The most important relationship he’d ever have in his formative years. His fingers fisted his duvet seeing your sweet face in his mind again.

But god he liked you. He still had the lavender under his pillow that you got him.

“Fuck this,” he hissed, throwing his duvet off. He wanted you in any capacity you’d have him. There was nothing to think about.

x

You laid in bed that night in the guest room, trying not to see your father in the shadows as you usually did, his shadow still hanging over you, frightening you years after his attempt on your life.

You hid under the covers letting out a shaky breath. He’s not here, you told yourself. He can’t get you. You chanted over and over, but a tingle of fear trickled down your spine, making it hard to breathe.

You screamed when you heard someone knock on your doorframe. You peeked out from the covers, “Billy?” You asked, shaking.

“Who else?” He asked not unkindly, his hair mussed from laying on it. “Come to bed,” he said hoarsely, as though he hadn’t gotten much sleep, either.

You hesitated and he ached at your reluctance, “I’m not mad anymore, sweet pea.” He said seeing you shake, before you threw off your duvet, and followed him into his room. When you climbed in, he pulled you against him, stroking your spine, burying his face in your hair. “I’m sorry I scared you,” he rasped, surprising himself. He rarely apologized. But he realized he valued you.

You kissed his mouth, “It’s okay. I shouldn’t have been snooping around.” You mumbled against his lips.

Billy’s fingers dug into your hips, “I just wanna love Billy. Every part of him, even the parts he’d rather forget.” You continued, trying to make him understand.

Billy ached at that. His own mother hadn’t loved him, how could you? You kissed him again, soft and slow making him groan softly, tasting the toothpaste on your tongue.

And just like that the ache in Billy’s heart eased in the wake of your kisses, sweet and yielding.

“You’re mine.” He rasped, making your heart leap with hope.

“You promise?” You asked softly, minty breath blowing over his face.

“I promise.” He said, kissing your forehead, before tucking you under his chin.

And after hours of fighting for sleep, you both fell asleep at two in the morning.

[paraliveimaginesblog]

Ryoga with red chrys., sweet pea, marigold, hydrangea, and purple hyacinth?

Ryoga Tosa:

🌻hydrangea: how often do they get into fights with their s/o? who usually apologizes first?

Not often. If he has a point to make he’ll make it, but he doesn’t let fights hang around because he’d rather admit wrong-doing than be given the cold-shoulder. He could normally pinpoint moments where he stepped over a line and needed to offer a genuine apology, but he wanted that same respect from you. He trusted that you wouldn’t just steamroll over his feelings even if he tried to keep the peace in his own way.

🌻marigold: how jealous do they get? how do they react when they get jealous?

Ryoga has to fight the jealousy he feels, biting his tongue and hoping he doesn’t have to chew it off to keep his cool. Controlling his anger matters greatly when it comes to improving himself as a person and he doesn’t want to give you a reason to run into another mans arms, but it’s hard when this person has more freedom to make moves on you. It’s easy to see his jealousy by the scowl on his face and the direct eye contact he makes with the person inspiring the jealous feelings inside him. It sends a clear message that they better back off or they’d be facing the consequences.

🌻purple hyacinth: how would they react if their s/o died?

Having two people he loved more than anything else in the world gone before he could show what he could offer, show that he was capable of growth and that he was turning his life around for the better, was almost too much for him to bare. He felt lost, his anger festering just beneath the surface as he wanted to lash out on even his allies, the fight to keep himself together harder than it had ever been. It’s like having a limb cut off, the phantom pain incurable, but he knew you’d be disappointed in him if he went back on his progress now. He convinced himself that he had to live for you, and that first step would be continuing his path of change and channeling his emotion into his music.

🌻red chrysanthemums: how long does it take for them to say ‘i love you’?

When he knows, he knows, but Ryoga struggled to say it the same moment he knew he felt it. He thought there was a delicate balance that most relationships required and he was clumsy at best, even when he was trying extra hard. Ryoga’s wary about revealing his position too soon, his actions speaking for him long before he managed to confess. It probably slipped out of him after about half a year together, admitting he already considered marriage as a possibility for your relationship if you would have him. After that embarrassing confession it’s easier to say those three little words as he had made it clear he considered you his ‘forever’ and you hadn’t run away yet.

🌻sweet pea: are they big on cuddling? what is their favorite position to cuddle their s/o in?

Ryoga enjoyed being close to you and the contact with you, especially at night when it was time to finally let your guard down and rest. You think it’s cute how he always managed to curl up close to you even if you started off on opposite sides of the bed, his body drawn to yours like a magnet. He always ran hot at night so you loved when he clung close on cold nights, wrapping yourself around him as much as you could and absorbing all the love that you could.

It depends on his feelings at the moment but he normally preferred being big spoon, which normally helped since he was broad-shouldered and large. He could take up a lot of space on the bed so he didn’t mind when you pressed yourself against him, arms enclosed around you in a protective gesture so any would-be attackers would have to get through him before laying a hand on you. Other nights he liked to just rest his head on your chest, falling asleep within moments as you ran your fingers through his hair and gave him the most restful sleep he’s ever had.  

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Twenty-Eight (Part 2)

Later on in the evening, when the shadows have lengthened and the firepit is ablaze with crackling logs, someone approaches me through the crowd. Tall and handsome with black hair and eyes such a shocking, icy blue, like a husky. It’s Will O’Connor, Shane’s best friend from school. I fancied this boy relentlessly for three whole years. 

“Evie Kilbride?” He says to me, as though he’s not completely sure, and I don’t blame him. I’m sure to him I was always Kelly’s weird, lanky friend with a mouth full of braces. I was also too shy to ever actually speak to him, so I’m surprised he ever learned my name at all. 

“Yeah.” I say.

“Ah, sorry, I wasn’t sure it was you. You look different to how you did at school.”

“In a good or bad way?” I say without thinking, and he smiles, dimples on his cheeks that I used to have intrusive thoughts about pressing my finger into. 

“I dunno.” He says. “How are you getting on? You’re at college, are you?”

I tell him about NCAD, and my internship, murals and illustration while he nods along with genuine interest. “That makes sense,” He says. “I remember how you were good at art.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah you were always drawing up in the stands during our football games.” 

“Oh God.” I say, “That’s so embarrassing, I can’t believe you noticed me doing that.”

He laughs. “Ah, well, Kelly told us what you were up to. She said you hated watching us playing so you’d bring something to draw with instead.”

I want to protest and say I didn’t hate it. In fact, I always liked when Will was on the pitch. He was something majestic to behold, and sometimes if we were lucky he’d take his jersey off and whip it around over his head in celebration of scoring a point, but I can’t lie and say that I ever wanted to actually watch the games instead of the boys. I’m more embarrassed that Kelly talked about me to him than by the fact that he knew that football bored me. 

He goes on to tell me that he doesn’t really play sports anymore, he just got a job at the local boys school. He’ll be a geography teacher. It seems a startlingly sensible choice for the same boy who threw a science lab skeleton dressed in his uniform off the roof of the P.E hall, but I suppose none of us stay sixteen and reckless forever. 

“How’s Kelly getting on with the nursing degree?” He wants to know. “Is she doing placement this year or what?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“Is she coming tonight, or?”

“I don’t know either. I suppose she’s probably working, maybe she’ll be by a bit later.” I pause. “Like, she and I aren’t close anymore.”

Will seems surprised. “Oh really? But ye were always together, joined at the hip, like. You’d never see one without the other.”

“Yeah, I know, but it didn’t work out in the end.” I chew my lip, resisting the urge to say something in defence of myself so that he knows that she’s the one who ruined it, not me when actually it doesn’t matter at all anymore. None of those things that seemed monumental as teenagers seem to matter one iota. Will plunges his hands in his pockets and rocks back and forth on his heels in the short silence that follows. I suspect I have made it awkward for him somehow, and begin preparing my escape before he says: “You know, she actually told me once that you fancied me.”

I explode with panic as though a nuclear disaster alarm has gone off. “What?” 

“Yeah, like…” He laughs self-consciously. “I think it was when I was in fifth year or something. She said that you’d had your eye on me for ages and you were too shy to say anything.”

“Oh Jesus, I’m sorry she said that. That’s really awkward, I’m sure you were really freaked out by it.”

“No, I thought it was cute, to be honest.” 

Why he is bringing this up? It’s not often now that I truly wish to be gobbled up by the earth, but this has made me feel so humiliated that my arms curl around myself as though they can protect me from my own horrible feelings. “Ha. Well, you know, I was really young and silly, I hope I didn’t embarrass you by it or like, that nobody else found out and took the piss out of you for it.” 

He was going out with this girl from the same athletics club as me for ages, and she used to always tell the same story to everyone about how she’d gone shopping at Abercrombie & Fitch and they’d begged her to work there because she was so good looking. If she’d heard about my feelings she would have ripped me to shreds. 

“No, nobody found out.” He says. “I actually do think that you’re very cute. Still, I mean.” The corners of his mouth curve up into a shy smile, and the moment is so alien to me that it takes me several moments to realise that he’s not making fun of me. Will O’Connor is flirting with me. “Oh, thank you.” I manage. 

“You’re not going out with anyone at the moment, are you?”

His phrasing bothers me a bit, as if he’s implying I couldn’t possibly have a boyfriend or something, but still I laugh out loud at the absurdity of the whole situation. After all this time. He used to be everything I wanted but now, the things about him that used to make my stomach flip and my legs weak leave me feeling nothing at all. He would have been embarrassed to bump shoulders with me even accidentally back then, and now look at him. I never thought I’d see him vulnerable. “I am.” I say. “I have a boyfriend, sorry.” I glance over his shoulder to Jude, who’s conversing with Shane about something by the firepit. Will follows my eyes and glances over his shoulder. “Oh, him?”

“Yeah.”

He shrugs. “Lucky guy, I suppose.” He gently clinks his bottle against my prosecco glass and nods. “Well, have a good night, Evie. Was nice to run into you again.”

I join Jude and Shane by the fire straight after, and practically dive into my boyfriend, holding on to him and kissing his cheek five times in quick succession while he chuckles and wraps his arms around me. “Are you alright?”

“Yes” I say. “I’m just obsessed with you, I love you so much.” 

“Little weirdo.” He grabs me by my cheeks and kisses the top of my head. 

Beginning // Prev // Next

[unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin]

Happy Valentine’s Day (Yandere!Drew McIntyre)

Summary: you spend your Valentine’s Day with Drew… and not by choice

Taglist: @fiskers7136 @peachmango-kombucha @kcloveswrestling @bellalutionn @xkennyxomegax @tummyyellin @legit9thlunaticwarrior @auburnwrites @melissahausen @thesusbunny @writtingrose

Requested by: @maryjaneleaholland26

Warnings: yandere!Drew, being held captive, bondage(non sexual), reference to a feeding tub, reference to murder, Drew being manipulative

“Open up.”

“Fuck off,” you responded while glaring at Drew. Your arms were tied at your side, keeping you from moving out of the chair. In front of you was the dinner Drew had made for the two of you, and said man was sat next to you with a fork in his hand.

“Come on, I made your favorite,” he argued, waving the fork in front of you. When you still didn’t accept the food he sighed. “You’re really going to try the whole ‘hunger strike’ thing again? Do you not remember what happened last time?”

You felt yourself shudder at his words. After refusing to eat anything for two weeks when he first took you, he forced a feeding tube down your throat to make sure you got what you needed.

“I’m not on strike,” you snapped at him. “I’m just not celebrating Valentine’s Day with my kidnapper.”

“You think that word will scare me?” He put the bite of food in his own mouth. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ll I’m doing is showing how much i love you,” he continued to cut into the food.

“Right, I’m sure you felt loved by me screaming and demanding to leave.” It still shocked you how open Drew was about this. For whatever reason, he didn’t seem to care about what he’d done, or even tried to reason it that much. He accepted the truth. He loved you, so he took you.

“You’re funny,” he mumbled while chewing the food. “Sure you don’t want some? It’s delicious.”

“Does it keep you awake at night?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “The fact that you have put so much effort into this, and yet I will never, truly, love you. You may break me mentally, but I. Will. Never. Pick. You.”

You kept eye contact with him after your words, and at first you thought it was just another thing he would brush off. Instead, his eyes hardened.

“You know, if I try this hard for you, you could at least not act like such a bitch.” He stood up, throwing a napkin down onto the table. “You want to be alone, be fucking alone.” And with that he stormed out of the room.

You weren’t sure what to do in that moment. To be fair there wasn’t anything you could do, you were still tied to the chair after all.

“Drew?” You called out, trying to see down the hall he’d gone. You didn’t get a verbal answer, but you heard the front door open then shut. “Drew!” You yelled out, hoping you were wrong about what was happening. “I swear to god you better not have left!”

When you didn’t hear anything you let your head fall, your chin meeting your chest. You knew the chance of him still being here was small, but you hadn’t heard his car so you took a chance.

“I’m sorry.”

It was silent just long enough for you to except your fate, then you heard footsteps. You glanced up to see him walk in with a smile.

“I knew you’d apologize.”

“Asshole.”

“I wouldn’t have left you alone on Valentine’s Day,” he assured as he sat down again. He picked up the fork, but before using it he griped your chin tightly. “But if you ever say the shit again, and I’ll bury you in the back yard with your last boyfriend. Understand?” He forced your head to move up and down. “Good. Now, let’s enjoy our night.”

You were shocked by the reaction. He always responded to your taunts with

[annieoncrack]

when you go to his house in the middle of the night, drunk

suna x f reader, best friends to lover, underage drinking, swears

Suna rubbed his eyes as he stared at the pages in front of him. He shook his head before popping open yet another energy drink.

He knew that he should not have kept off studying until the night before the exam, but to his defence, it was the last exam of his high school career and he really did not care about English.

As he was about to close his textbook for a break, he heard rustling outside his window. He looked up in curiosity and almost had a heart attack when he saw a familiar figure facing him.

"Hey," his tone was normal but his furrowed eyebrows said otherwise. You've never shown up outside his window this late. Not because you had a curfew but because you like sleeping early. He helped you in like he had done a thousand times before.

"Hi rinnie," you giggled once you were seated on the top of his desk.

Your hyena-like state was enough to give it away but the slurring words and reeking breath confirmed the current situation to Suna.

"How much did you drink?" Suna asked disappointed but not surprised.

"Not much," you smile innocently. "You-"

"Lower your voice," he said as he opened his cupboard drawer. "Take one."

You catch the pack of chewing gum he threw in your direction, examining it carefully before putting it in your mouth.

"Take the wrapper off," he sighs, quite speechless at your state.

"I don't want to," you shrug the pack to the side and pulled out something from your hoodie pocket. "Let's have this."

Suna stared at the flask and rubbed his eyes.

"Why are you here, y/n? I know you're smart and definitely do not need to study but why are you here? Like this?"

The smile on your face faltered slightly but did not drop. "My parents went on a trip."

"Okay so?"

It was normal for your parents to go out of town for business meetings and such. It was also normal for you to be a little rebellious during that time- partying, hooking up and whatnot. What was not normal was for you to show up at his house at 2 in the morning with a flask filled with- what he guessed- tequila and no shoes on- all before an exam.

"They're coming back next month," you shrugged as you tried to open the flask.

"Oh," he said, trying to hide his disbelief. He knew about your relationship with your parents very well. They missed birthdays, new years celebrations and parent-teacher conferences, but he didn't expect them to miss your graduation. The one in which you’d be giving a speech as the student body president and valedictorian. If anyone knew how hard you worked it was Suna. He’d sat through all of your pre-exam breakdowns and campaigning tactics. He knew how much this meant to you and for your own parents to not care was astounding to him.

"It's nothing new," you let out a painful laugh to which he winced. "Ugh, why is the lid so fucking tight."

He stared at you for a while and then held out his hand for the flask. You gave it to him apprehensively, afraid he would throw it away. Instead, he put it in his back pocket, held your hands and helped you down to the floor of his bedroom.

He unscrewed the lid with ease and took a swig of the alcohol. The warm liquid rushed down his throat and he squinted.

Vodka. Fucking raw vodka.

"You didn't answer my question," he spoke after a while, turning towards you. "How much did you drink?"

"This much," you gestured with your hands and he shook his head.

"One sip and that's it," he warned before handing you the flask.

Suna was well aware of your tolerance and it never failed to amaze him how low it is. Even though Suna wasn't one for drinking even he could take more liquor than you. Maybe it was the fact that he was 6'1 and you were a foot shorter or it was the fact that you never learned from your mistakes.

Whatever it was, Suna always made sure to take after you when you were drinking. From holding your hair back while you puked to scaring off guys that would try approaching you when you couldn't consent to anything, as your best friend he made sure that you were okay.

"Yes sir!" You smile that dazzling smile of yours before taking a big sip. He smiled back at you sadly. He knew there was no point in trying to comfort you when you were already this drunk. So all he could do was sit beside you and listen.

"Okay that's enough-" he snatched the flask away, meeting resistance and rolling his eyes.

"Hey I know you're stronger but this isn't fair!" you whined softly, playfully hitting his chest. You pout when you realize that he was going to finish the liquor on his own and continued to softly throw punches at his shoulder. "Rin you're so mean!"  

"Tough love," he responded after you were done with your mini tantrum.

You scooted away from the boy, "What would you know about love."

Neither of you spoke, thinking about what you had just said.

"Y/n," he took his time pronouncing your name. "You know I love you, you're my best friend-"

"That's the problem," you say softly whilst shaking your head.

He tilted his head but didn't say anything.

When the silence persisted he thought that you had fallen asleep. He got up to find you a blanket but a hand on his wrist pulled him back down.

"Please don't leave me," you said softly looking into his startled green eyes.

The look on your face was enough to break his heart but when you let out a cry into his shoulder that was when he couldn't take it anymore.

You were the girl next door. The girl that helped him get up when he would fall while playing volleyball at the age of 5. You were the girl that proofread his essays. The one that took care of him when he was down. The one that was always there when others weren't.

He pulled you into his chest, arms around your head and shoulder, letting your tears wet his t-shirt.

"I'm not leaving," he whispered.

“I-I-” you tried getting the sentence out but your uncontrolled sobs didn’t let you.

“It’s okay,” he stroked your hair. “It’s okay y/n.”

“No- I,” you pulled away to look at him. “I love you.”

“I know-”

“No,” you shake your head. “I don’t love you in the ‘you’re my best friend’ way. I love you in the ‘you’re the one i think about when i read romance novels’ kind of way.”

It took Suna a while to process what you had said. He wasn’t even sure if he had heard you right.

“What?”

“Rin,” you try speaking clearly, but the sleep and alcohol were hitting you both at once. “I love you, not in the best friend kind of way.”

"No you don't," he shook his head, his mouth betraying him.

"Yes I do," you scoffed, getting off of him to sit beside him once again. "For someone that can read me like a book you can't fucking understand that I love you."

"Because you don't," he repeated, more so to himself than to you.

"I give up," you yawn resting your head on his shoulder, your eyes now fighting to stay open.

"Y/n."

"Rin."

"I love you in the more than a friend way too," he whispered to himself feeling his eyelids being pushed down.

"That's good," you say not really paying attention as you started drifting off.

The boy beside you took one look at you and then at his desk and yawned.

Suna never really cared for English anyway.

The next morning was filled with loud curses as the two students realized that they had an exam to write. The flask was discarded and so were the empty cans of energy drinks.

Neither one of you seemed to remember what you were speaking about before falling asleep. Choosing to laugh about how stupid you were for not studying instead of acknowledging your deeper family issues and moving on with your final month of school seemed to be the default choice.

High school was over.

You and Suna went to different universities in different cities.

Your career eventually took you abroad and you lost touch with the boy who you used to call your best friend.

Both of you went on with your lives never really knowing that you had drunkenly confessed to each other.

If only the vodka was not involved, things could have been different.

They do say nothing good happens after 2 am.

[iamvegorott]

Meeting A Magical Man Pt. 26

Part 1: Link Prev: Link Next: Link

----------

Marvin was so thankful that healing a hangover was easy enough that you could do it to yourself without worry or ingredients. But he was thirsty and downed his fourth glass of water in the kitchen. 

“Looks like you survived,” Chase chuckled as he entered the room.

“Barely,” Marvin said with his own chuckle, licking his lips to give himself a second before speaking again. “What do you remember from last night?” 

“Did you end up forgetting things this time, too?” Chase picked up an apple from the fruit bowl on the table and bit into it. 

“A little.” Marvin didn’t look at Chase, unsure if he’d be able to lie to his face. 

“Well, Henrik called because you were drunk off your ass on the floor. I brought you here, got you ready for bed, took my potion, and that’s about all I have in the memory bank.” Chase leaned back against the counter. “You're a very giggly drunk.” 

“Henrik must have gotten you when I was on phase three.” Marvin marked the last two words with finger quotes. 

“Phase three?” 

“He told me that I go through levels of drunkenness.” 

“Speaking of that…” Chase sat his half-eaten apple down. “Why did you get drunk? One second we’re getting stuff from Actor’s place, and then the next, you’re gone. And then you start ignoring my calls. Did I fuck up? I’m sorry if I did. Just tell me, and I’ll never do it again.” He was nearly rambling by the end, fear in his eyes. 

“Chase, darling.” Marvin stepped in front of Chase and held his face with both hands. “I promise you that you did nothing wrong. I was having a…moment.” 

“Are you okay?” Chase asked softly. 

“It’s something I’m working on. I’m being a bit of a dumbass. I’m hoping to get over it soon.” Marvin wasn’t sure what he meant by that at the moment. What way he would take it. But he’ll deal with that later. 

“You’d tell me if I fucked up, right?” Chase still sounded worried.

“Of course. I’m pretty good at calling people out.” Marvin kissed the tip of Chase’s nose, and he felt better when that got him to chuckle. “How about for today, I’ll magic myself home, clean up, and then meet you outside Henrik’s to see how that date of his went? Then we’ll go through the stuff from Actor’s and see where it takes us from there?” 

“Sounds good.” Chase’s smiled, and Marvin realized he was still holding him, getting him to finally lower his arms. 

“Thirty minutes sound like enough time?” 

“Yep.” 

“I’ll see you at, Hen’s,” Marvin said before snapping his fingers and disappearing. 

x~x~x

Chase pulled up to Henrik’s house and didn’t see Marvin yet. He was going to take his phone out to scroll through Instagram, but he looked up to see the contract Dark had given him still sticking out of his visor. 

Marvin mentioned something about how he was working on something on his own. About being a dumbass…Chase knew that feeling a lot more than he should. 

He pulled out the paper and chewed on the inside of his cheek, reading the beginning of typed-out words again.

From the desk of Dark-

Chase thought it was strange that there was no last name, but he’d accepted that the world Dark and the others were a part of probably involved hiding your full name. Now that he thinks of it, Chase didn’t know Marvin’s last name. Marvin knew his, and they both knew Henrik’s. Did Henrik know Marvin’s last name, or was he like Dark or Rhianna? Chase shook his head and went back to reading.

From the desk of Dark, 

A proposal is offered to Chase Brody concerning a current contract involving a person of interest connected to his past. 

A customer has hired the company for the disposal of A-

Chase had to lower the contract before he could read the name. He hated how it alone would bring so much dread, memories of what happened, and he could swear the scarring on his chest was aching. 

Was he really going to do this? Sign off on how she’d die? Dark did say anything, that he could just request items from her home. She did still have some of his things, but would he want them after knowing what he would about her death? Does he want her to die? Is she that terrible of a person? It’s been years. Maybe she’s grown and became better> Maybe she has a life that’s a positive aspect of others…why did that make him want to sign the contract more? 

He shoved those thoughts away when he saw Marvin appearing at Henrik’s door. Chase quickly tucked the contract back into the visor and left his car. 

“Ready to give him some hell?” Marvin asked with a giggle. 

“Always.” Chase grinned and opened the door. They both strolled in without knocking. 

“I texted him a little bit ago, he knows we were coming, but I didn’t give him long enough to get Edward out if he’s in the house,” Marvin said. 

“Why are you here?” Henrik hissed as he fumbled into the room. He was wearing his robe and hugging it tightly to his body. That was a clear sign that he was either wearing nothing or next to nothing under it. “I had assumed you would sleep in today after last night.” 

“Did you truly think I wouldn’t come over and ask how your date went? After how long of teasing and encouraging and, at one point, almost literally pushing for you to do anything with Edward. You finally get dinner with him, and you don’t think I want the tea?” Marvin almost sounded offended. 

“I will give you tea later. I was busy doing…things.” 

“Things? What-”

“Henrik? Is everything okay?” Edward stopped Chase’s question short by coming into the room wearing only a pair of boxers. There were also a collection of hickies on his chest, and when Henrik turned his head to look at Edward; Marvin and Chase got a clear view of a nice-sized one on his neck.  

“And hello, Mr. Things,” Marvin said with a loud laugh. “You did it, Hen!” 

“This is why I did not want you here.” Henrik groaned. 

“We’re just proud of you.” Chase pinched Henrik’s cheeks.

“You two can leave now.” Henrik slapped Chase’s hands away. 

“I’ll go make some coffee.” Edward offered. 

“You have to tell me everything. I want every single dirty detail.” Marvin was practically purring with excitement. 

“Do not let the door slam your ass on the way out.” Henrik huffed.

“Did you get your railing? I saw you limp. I think you did.” 

“Marvin!” 

----------

Tags: @brokentimewatch @bookwormscififan @d-structive @rainymae523 @ashtonisvibing

[mykneeshurt]

Haunted part nineteen

Epilogue

You peered up at Shepard in utter disbelief, you knew he’d betrayed you after what went down with Graves. But for him to be behind your kidnapping? Surely he knew you wouldn’t know anything. ‘Why?’ Is all you managed to muster.

He regarded you as he circled your bound body in the chair. ‘Need to tie up loose ends’ he stated. What loose ends? What was going on? A sadistic chuckle left him ‘you being one of em. 141 have been a thorn in my side since Las Almas. But right now, I need you alive, because they’ll come for you.’

‘Yeah and look what happened to Graves when he tried it. I killed him. And it felt really fucking good’ you spat. Your voice filled with venom and faux confidence. Keep him talking. Just keep him talking.

‘Why do all this? What could you possibly get out any of this?’ Shepard pulled up a chair opposite you and sat down. ‘Five years ago I lost 30,000 men in a blink of an eye. The world watched as they burnt, did nothing. Now, I’ll have no end of volunteers. America will be great again. Thanks to me. I’ll be a hero.’

You scoffed. ‘All this for your own fucking ego? Well I can categorically tell you, sir, your dicks lookin real small to me.’

‘Anyone ever tell you to respect your superiors, girl?’ He scowled down at you, fists clenched. Shifting in your chair you narrowed your gaze, ‘respect is earnt, you lost that when you betrayed us. If anything I pity you.’ You were getting under his skin now. Like any narcissistic man. They’re a paradox, a self-inflated ego to protect their withering and non existence self-esteem. Sooth the ego to get what you want, but it’s so fragile you can destroy it in mere seconds.

Grabbing your cheeks he forced your glare, his face mere inches from yours. He smelt of whiskey, cigarettes and sweat. ‘Pity? I don’t need your pity. In a few days I’ll be a national war hero. And you? You’ll be left here to rot, where no one will remember you.’

Jerking out of his grasp you mustered up as much saliva as you could before spitting in his face. ‘She’s got a habit of doing that’ one of the guards chimed in. ‘Should we teach her some respect?’ Shepard stood and wiped his face in disgust. ‘Yeah. I think she could do with learning to respect her superiors.’ Turning on his heel he left the room, flashing you a malicious smile over his shoulder.

—

A table flew across the small living room of the safe house. ‘I’ll fucking kill him! That fucking cunt!’ Ghost roared. ‘Traitorous bastard.’ Price had filled them in on what he’d found, Shepard telling Makarov about the undercover agent in his midst. Makarov then killing him and planting a US patch on him to entice Russia and the USA into war with each other. How Shepard wanted to do this to gain some recognition as war hero.

Price put a calm hand on his shoulder ‘we’ll get him son, and her.’ He chewed on his cigar, the repetitive movements the only thing distracting him from losing it himself. ‘Now there’s two places secure enough he could have taken her. There’s an old Gulag used for training exercises here.’ He points on a map to a small secluded Gulag used in the Cold War. One road in, one road out. ‘The other, an old safe house Russian military use sometimes. We can clear both together or split up?’

Almost instantly Ghost spoke up ‘we’re splitting up. I ain’t wasting anymore time. Soap and I will take the Gulag, you two take the house.’ They all nodded in agreement.

—

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this cell. Hours? Days? Weeks? Blood fell from your nose, deep thick bruises scattered across your face and torso. Your top was ripped, new lacerations and abrasions but at your skin. The pain was all but a dull ache now, adrenaline offering you some relief. Another punch landed to your stomach, paralysing your breaths.

You threw your head back offering a wheeze filled giggle. You may have been a medic, but you were a fucking strong woman. ‘Think she’s gettin off on it’ one of them muttered to the other. Your chest was heavy, clothes wet from blood and sweat. Tears lined your eyes, not from sadness but from defiance. They wouldn’t get to you, wouldn’t break you. Your thoughts returned to Ghost, the way he held you tight in his arms. The feel of his skin on yours. How his lips fit yours so perfectly. He kept you going. The thought of seeing him again. Holding him.

—

Soap and Ghost approached the enter ace of the Gulag. The night was dark, quiet, perfect for sneaking in through the exterior. ‘Tango one on the left, he’s mine. Drop the one on the right Johnny.’ Like a well oiled machine they picked off guards one by one, until the corner was clear.

They rappelled up the wall and onto the exterior wall as they surveyed their surroundings. ‘We need to get inside, they’ll be in the cells.’ Nodding Soap took point, clearing guards one by one. Ghost felt his heart tensing, he felt off, something wasn’t right. ‘I don’t like this Johnny.’

‘Neither do I Lt.’

Weaving their way through the small constricting concrete corridors, the stale smell of the rotting building infiltrated their senses. They hadn’t seen a guard in quite some time, the feeling was uneasy. ‘Psst, down here Johnny.’ Making their way down the winding steps to the cells a blood curdling scream made their blood run cold. It was you. It was your scream.

—

You were beaten and bloody, Shepard had returned. ‘Such a pretty scream you got’ he taunted as he removed the knife from your thigh. He leant in close to your ear ‘I know they’re here. They’re here looking for you. Wont be long and I can finally release you from your pathetic life.’

You were weak, dehydrated, drifting in and out of consciousness. They weren’t torturing you for information, they were torturing you for fun. Something to cleanse their boredom. You were their plaything.

The sounds of gunshots filled the hallway, hope suddenly filled your heart. He’d come. He’d found you. You smiled a blood stained grin at Shepard. ‘Right … on … time’ you wheezed.

The door blew open, the sounds of Soap and Ghost filled the room. He screamed your name, relief and pure panic both evident in his tone.

Shepard took refuge behind you, knife to your throat. The sting of the blade caressed your fragile skin. He was pinned to the corner, Soap and Ghost having taken out the other guards already. ‘Your odds aren’t looking too good sir’ you quipped through gritted teeth. Fresh blood from the blade tricking down your chest.

‘Get your fuckin hands off her’ Ghost threatened. He gripped his gun tightly, you were sure you could hear the metal creaking. ‘Might wanna do as he says Shepard’ Soap snapped.

Your breath caught in your throat, unable to fully breathe from the weight on your windpipe. Shepard pressed his body against yours moving you slowly. Your eyes met Ghosts, his were riddled with fury, pain, anguish. To see you stained with blood, weak, in agony, it broke him. He shook his head, trying to shake away the image of his mum, his brother, his nephew all slain in their home.

Knowing Ghost was seconds away from breaking you looked to Soap. He found your eyes and you carefully signalled him with your hand. Following your lead he noticed you pull a small knife hidden from within your belt. Ghosts voice echoed in your head ‘always have two knives. Never know when you’ll need em.’ Pulling it out of the sheath, Soap fired a shot into the wall next to you. Allowing you the time you drive the knife into his thigh.

Shepard yelled out in pain as he tumbled backwards into the wall, giving you time to turn and drive the knife in again and again. You fell on top of him, pushing the blade into his chest, the sounds that came from your chest were guttural. Your vocal cords straining from the pressure.

Ghost’s arms tugged you back wards into him. ‘Hey hey hey! You’re safe, you’re safe!’ He cooed over and over. You eventually stopped struggling, allowing yourself to relax into him. He cupped your face, no words able to describe how he felt. Tears trickled down your cheeks, smiling up at him. ‘Simon, I knew you’d come.’

He cradled you close to him, ‘always love. I could never leave you.’ Pulling him down he placed a masked kiss on your bloodied and cut lips. Soap looked on at the bittersweet scene before him. He was happy for you both, no matter how much it hurt.

But it wasn’t to last. ‘Lt!’ He yelled, Ghost looked up confused. Soap looked down to your stomach. You were bleeding. A lot. Ghost moved his hand down to your stomach, his gloves now covered in your blood. ‘No’ he whispered ‘no no no no no!’

‘Simon, it hurts.’ The adrenaline was wearing off, fast.

‘Get medical evac now!’ Ghosted bellowed, his voice strained with worry. Soap scrambled through his bag to get the satellite phone. He glanced over to Shepard’s body, he had the blade in his hand, covered in blood. Your blood. He must have managed to stab you during the initial struggle.

‘I feel cold.’ You cupped his face. Panic spread through him, straight to his heart. He couldn’t lose you. He couldn’t. He removed his mask and kissed you again. ‘You’re not going anywhere. I’m right here. Stay awake love, please stay awake.’ Your eyes were heavy. No matter how much pressure he applied he couldn’t stop the bleeding.

‘I love you Simon. I love you so so much.’ Your voice was getting weaker, quieter. He stroked your head, his own tears now free falling down his face. His black paint smudging on his skin, revealing Simon beneath it. ‘No no no. You can’t. Don’t you dare. You promised you’d never leave me. You promised.’ He sobbed. His voice wobbling as he begged you to stay with him. ‘You promised me.’

You were pale, all colour fading from you. The life fading from you. ‘JOHNNY! Help me please!’ Soap sprinted back to your side, he applied both hands to your stomach. Crimson liquid still oozing out of the slit in your stomach. ‘Im sorry’ you whispered.

You went limp in his arms. Your now lifeless body all that remained. Ghost gripped you tightly to his chest and screamed. Screamed your name into the empty corridors of the Gulag. Soap sat with his head in his hands, crying silently as Ghosts screams filled the empty void.

They weren’t sure how long they were there, Price and Gaz came bounding into the cell. They saw him rocking your body. Ghost was broken. ‘She promised she’d never leave me’ he whispered to Price. The Captain tried to offer something, anything to Ghost. But he snapped. ‘Don’t touch me. GO! GO AWAY! PLEASE!’

It took all three of them drag him away from your body. They had to physically force him onto the plane, while they retrieved your body. During the plane ride back to the UK he didn’t leave your side. He sat by your body, staring into oblivion. Barely moving. Barely breathing. Barely existing.

— A/N I’m such an asshole x

Epilogue to come

CHVRN - Delirium inspired this chapter