#nothing compares to the exhaustion of going back and forth with a person because the two of you have different definitions of basic words

[cats-in-the-clouds]

it’s important to try very hard to be as patient and understanding and reasonable as possible and i tell myself aw c’mon how hard can it really be to just chill out and be nice? but every now and it hits me again how we’re all being subjected to a mass gaslighting campaign and then i’m like ah that’s why i’m exhausted deep in my soul all the time. i’m being made to think i’m utterly insane for wanting words to have actual meanings so maybe that makes me a bit cranky y’know

[cillianhead]

Anything about cillian with a beard!

Cillian with a beard... oh my god don't even get me started.

Anyway here you go my love <3

Three And A Half Months || Cillian Murphy x Reader

warnings: SMUT, also a fluffy sweet fic, oral sex (f receiving), face riding, mentions of blood but nothing too graphic, general adult content ahead.

18+ Minors DNI

Last night you had reunited with Cillian. It had been three and a half months since you had last seen each other, the longest you had ever gone without seeing one another, he was away shooting for a new film and it was in the states so traveling back and forth between Ireland and America grew exhausting. Of course, as soon as you saw each other, you had no time to process the beard on his face, just the fact he was there. Nothing else mattered except him being there, right in front of you, to touch and to hold. So you went at it like rabbits, knocking over furniture, breathing each other in like feral animals, making love until you were sore and panting for air. No amount of late night phone calls could ever truly compare to the feeling of having his cock deep inside you.

The next morning arrived, light pouring through the curtains and lighting a still sleeping Cillian in a golden light, the rays gave him a tiny halo, one you thought he rightfully deserved. You just smiled to yourself, the both of you still completely nude from last night's love making, you felt at peace, lying in bed with the love of your life, his arm draped over your waist heavily, the sound of his slow breathing, and the indescribable feeling of his warmth beside you. Every time you looked at him, a metaphorical slow romantic guitar would play, your heart would swell and overflow with love, and your eyes stung with the happy tears that seemed to always come. That was the thing about you, so incredibly emotional, Cillian always teased you about it. You'd cry at any chance you could get, whether it be because of hormones or because you saw a cute cat or because of the beauty that Cillian is. And when he had come home with that rugged beard that made him so handsome and so deliciously masculine, you felt weak in the knees, you cried but not from your eyes.

"Mornin' me love," The irish lilt of his voice mixed with the grumble of his morning voice brought you out of your daydreaming. "Lookin' so beautiful f'me." He leaned in, placing a soft sweet kiss to your cheek. You couldn't feel uglier with your messy bed hair and your puffy face after a long night's rest. But to Cillian you were the apple of his eye, no other woman could ever possibly compare.

"I missed you."

"I missed you too," He chuckled at your confession. "Those three months and a half went on for far too long but I'm here now, lovie."

"No, no..." You shook your head with a childish grin. "I missed you while we slept... missed you for every moment... was watchin' you sleep."

Cillian laughed contagiously, you giggled too as you felt him pull you closer to him, your bare chests touching. He nuzzled your nose with his own, this moment so full of love, so intimate and private. You felt like the luckiest person in the world to be with him. The light painting you two in a golden hue, the moment felt so surreal, like something out of a wonderful dream or something you'd see right before you die, right as your soul becomes free.

"What've you got planned today, Cillian?" You hummed, you both huffed out hot puffs of air on each other's faces, neither of you caring that you hadn't brushed your teeth yet. Just relieved you could finally touch each other again, relieved your souls could finally reunite and recharge, that your bodies were flushed together, it wasn't possible for you two to be any closer (physically at least).

"Nothin'," Cillian murmured quietly, stroking your hair softly. "Just planned on spending it with my favorite girl, thas' all." You felt yourself grow flustered, nuzzling your face into his chest before glancing shyly back up at him, growing more flustered at the sight of him and his beard. That beard that made your heart race and in between your legs throb with desire.

"Cillian..." You whined, catching your bottom lip in between your teeth. He was so fucking pretty and even after all this time of being together, you could never get over it. It made you feel like a giddy little girl with a silly school girl crush.

"Hmmm?" He hummed. The deep vibration sending jolts of arousal straight to your core. "What is it, baby love?"

"Your beard..." You ran your fingers along the hair accumulating across his jawline and cheeks, clenching your thighs together. In all the time you and Cillian had been together, he had always been clean-shaven, of course there'd be the rare occasion where he forgets to shave for a day or two and has a bit of stubble but nothing ever this long. Cillian had that knowing look on his face, he very much knew the effect he had over you. Arrogant was not the word you would ever use to describe Cillian, in fact he was an incredibly humble and modest man but when it came to riling you up, teasing you, he was quite arrogant then, arrogant in the way he knew every little inch about you and would use that against you. He enjoyed teasing you, enjoyed getting you where you were weak because he enjoyed watching you squirm. "It's so...." You trailed off, biting your lip once again with that flustered look on your face.

"...So what?" Cillian grinned, a cheeky glint in his blue eyes as his hand slipped further down your back until it rested on your bare ass. "Go on, tell your husband how wet his beard's gotten ya, love." Well that was unexpected.

You let out a bashful squeal, diving your face into his chest to hide the look of desperation and embarrassment on your flushed face. You heard him laugh, amused by how easily aroused you were. "Cillian... don't tease me... it's been three months..."

"And a half!" He added.

"...Since I last saw you, you can't blame me... especially since you look sooooooo fucking good with a beard..." You were looking him in the eyes now, his own pupils blown wide and a small one-sided smirk on his face. You slipped your hand down his abdomen before your fingers wrapped around his already hard cock, he let out a small breath at the feeling of your gentle hand.

"C'mere, Y/N," Cillian groaned, grabbing you by your waist, picking you up like you weighed nothing and sitting you up on his stomach. "Wanna taste you... s'been too fuckin' long."

Your arousal pooled on his stomach, getting off on the slight friction against your clit every time he breathed in and out but it wasn't quite enough. "Cillian... baby..." You huffed, too shy to make the first move, he gave your ass a gentle slap.

"Go on, sit on me fuckin' face," He was growing impatient, licking his lips. "Show me how much you love my beard, know you're soaking wet 'cause of it, silly girl."

He wasn't wrong and so you meekly crawled until your pussy was aligned with his hungry face. You hovered your hips hesitantly over his nose and lips, your thighs on either side of his head. He roughly grabbed ahold of your plush hips and pulled you down until he was suffocating in your sopping cunt.

"Fuck!" You mewled, your pussy ached with how turned on you were. His tongue lapped up at you, his nose perfectly brushing your clit as he fucked his tongue in and out of your tight hole. You never understood how he could breathe with your weight fully on top of him, he'd always give you some form of punishment if you didn't sit on top of his face like he was just a chair so you did as you knew he wanted. He always reassured you that he loved it, that being under you with his face buried in you was heaven on earth. And who were you to deny him what he so desperately craved when it felt so unbelievably good? He especially loved it when you took control, when you gave into the pleasure and rode his face, used his face like it was just something for you to cum on. He also knew the consequences of growing out his beard, he knew it'd turn you on, and this was exactly what he was hoping for. He knew once you came all over his face, he'd smell you in his beard for days.

Cillian was in pure bliss as he felt your fingers interlock with his hair, holding onto him for support as you began rocking your hips back and forth on his tongue and nose, moaning so fucking loud that the neighbors could hear. It had been so long and the feeling of his beard scratching your thighs and sticky folds made the experience so much better. The new sensation was only making you moan louder and louder.

"Oh fuck, oh fuck... Cillian..." You were gasping, Cillian groans into your pussy, encouraging your rough movements. "Missed this so much! Missed your face..." Fuck. The feeling of his nose pressed right where you need him, right against your throbbing clit, it was like he was made for you. You loved his nose and you always told him so.

Cillian was breathing you in, feasting on you, like all there was was you. Well at the moment, that was true. All he could hear, see, taste, and smell, and feel, was you. He could feel cum leak slowly out of his cock, not being able to handle how turned on and rock hard he was, he needed some kind of release. But there was no way in hell he was going to touch himself, not when he could have his hands grasp onto your hips, holding you down on his face even further. He hoped one of these days that you would eventually become one. That he could have your delicious cunt permanently on his face, even if it meant suffocating to death.

"Cillian... I... fuck..." Your head was rolled back, hand gripping desperately onto the top of his head, too lost in the pleasure to think about how you could be hurting him but you knew if it was too much for him he'd tap out which he never does. You knew Cillian would take whatever you gave him. "I'm cumming!" You choked out, your hips that were previously fucking his face slowed down a bit, stuttering your movements as you came. You hadn't came this hard in months, your fingers could never compare, nor could your vibrator, or showerhead. You had fully collapsed on top of his head, thighs squeezing his head like a vice as you saw stars. Your vision going completely white. Cillian lapped up all of it, taking it gratefully, face completely drenched and well ridden as you pulled off of him with a gasp.

"Bloody hell..." He grunted, gasping for air. You sat on his chest, still too weak or sensitive to move. Cillian smiled up at you dopily, high off of feeding off you. It only turned you on further how he got off on your pleasure. "Tastes so good... missed that so much... think I know what I'll be doin' all of today, love." You shook your head at Cillian, giggling a bit.

His face was drenched and beard sticky with your cum. Your cum formed perfect little droplets within the hair on his face, looking like he had just dipped his whole face in some sort of body of water, your cum had made it all the way to his forehead somehow. You blushed as you hopped off of him, you always felt embarrassed afterwards.

"Oh my god!" You exclaimed, seeing a bit of blood staining his teeth, you looked down at your groin to make sure you weren't bleeding (maybe you got your period?) but your heart sank at the realization you had managed to bust his top lip with how hard you rode his face. "I'm so sorry, Cillian! I'm so so sorry!"

He sat up with a frown, rubbing at his mouth to see the bit of blood on his fingers. He grinned like a mad man at the sight, standing up to look at himself in the mirror. You didn't understand why he was so happy about it. Beard coated in your creamy cum, face flushed, and his top lip bruised and swollen from where it had been repeatedly rubbing against his teeth. Cillian was pleased with his appearance and the newly made wound on his face. You stood up on shaky legs, cupping his face, worriedly.

"It's okay, love," Cillian reassured. "I'm fine, just a bit of blood, it'll heal by tomorrow I'm sure."

"No! I hurt you! I'm sorry I wasn't thinking!" You felt so guilty, you felt like the worst wife in the world. You brushed your thumb along his wet beard with a sad look on your face.

"Y/N," He said firmly, grabbing a hold of your waist, giving you a soft kiss, giving you a taste of yourself. "I wish you could understand just how much I love it when you ride my face. Best fuckin' thing in the whole world, how many times have I told you I'd die a happy man if it meant I got to drown in ya? Hmmm?" He smiled, you still frowned up at him, feeling guilty at his reddened lips. "Fuck, I don't think I could look sexier right now, I mean look at me! I don't really care f'me on looks but c'mon... you make me beautiful, Y/N..." Cillian looked delicious, he was right, you wanted to pounce him then and there and sit on his face all over again. "If people ask what happened to my lip, I can make up some flimsy excuse about how I fell on my face or some shit like that but smile to myself... knowin' the real story..." He licked his lips before continuing. "Knowin' that my goddess of a wife got herself off on my face because she loves me so much..."

His voice was soft, his hands caressed your naked body as he leaned in and kissed you. His beard was the best feeling ever against your lips. "I am sorry though... Cillian... I should've been more gentle..." You murmured. Cillian shook his head, he loved it when you were rough with him.

"I know a way you can make it up to me, darling," He hummed with that mischievous grin before gently pushing you down onto your knees, face right next to his deliciously hard cock. He moved his hips so that the head of his dick pushed at your lips, slapping you gently across the face with it. "Can't promise I'm gonna last very long though..."

"That's fine, Cillian... love the taste of your cum..." You said smiling as you lovingly took him into your mouth. God he looked so pretty with his beard.

-

<33333

[murmurmurl]

hiii pjsk oc ramble again :3

(this is super all over the place btw)

I feel like I should be developing Toshiro more, since he's the unit leader but I haven't come up with that much stuff about them compared to the others. BUT. I'm thinking about Seina. In the relationship thingy I mentioned that she works part-time at a café. I think it'd be funny if it's a café Ena and Akito go to somewhat regularly. then I'd have to change some stuff up though, because it wouldn't be just "met them once". Maybe I'd even make her friends with Ena. I did say I'll change a lot of stuff lol

Seina is very collected and pretty much knows how to deal with ppl, so I think she's pretty good at handling customers. It's still tiring for her though, more than you might expect, actually.

I think she deserves a break ngl (I say after being the one to make her need a break in the first place but uhm anyways)

I've also been thinking about their siblings... Seina and Toshiro both have siblings, actually. I haven't figured out their sibling dynamics as much yet. Like, I keep going back and forth on Seina's sibling especially, whether to make them older or younger. Because I have both options thought out, how they would have affected the relationship and in what way they contributed to how Seina acts. I know I'm gonna project with the sibling thing a lot, but uh. That's what OCs are for..? Kinda??? I guess?????

Fumi and Matsu are only children in their families, but I think with how they act with each other and their past connection, they act a little like siblings. I've also been thinking more about the period where Fumi wasn't as strong-willed and couldn't help or stand up for Matsu when he was bullied. Around that time, they had a bit of a falling out due to Fumi blaming herself too much and ending up isolating herself. They interact again for the first time since then already when the unit's story starts. Its awkward at first, and despite all this time working on being the best she could be to make sure nothing like that ever happens again, Fumi still blames themself and ends up avoiding Matsu at all costs. I can't say that he NEVER blamed her... of course, at first, back then, he felt hurt because no one would help, and when he needed his best friend more than ever, she ended up practically abandoning him. There is a little bit of that.. bitterness (??) left to this day, but overall, he doesn't really put them at fault. Fumi is extremely harsh on herself – that's actually something all of them have to a degree. Toshiro wanting to improve, be better at everything, be reliable because of his family problems, he wants to prove a certain person wrong. I now realize that this might sound kinda like the Shinonome dad situation, but it's still different. Seina blames herself terribly for accidentally hurting a dear friend in the past, she thinks of herself as unworthy of being forgiven and cared for, and tries her best caring for everyone around herself instead, devoting it so much time and effort that it leaves her exhausted and even puts a distance between her and the people she loves because she doesn't want to bother them with any of her personal struggles, even thoughts, she doesn't want to be a burden and upset them by having feelings. Fumi's case I already described here. With Matsu... I feel like it's less present in him, but it's still there. He tends to put a lot of pressure on himself about being good enough to be loved. Also because of stuff in the past, partially because of the bullying, partially because of how he as a child perceived Fumi distancing herself from him. He tries really hard to fit into the expectations others have of him, as well as be as independent as possible.

Of course, during the course of their story/ies I want to work through all of that. I think that coming to terms with things and starting to heal would take the longest for Seina. In part because she doesn't let anyone worry about herself as best she can.

ANYWAYS. Uhm. Stop the angst yapping, please, okay, thank you.

I like thinking through the sad and struggling parts of their characters, but I don't want to stop focusing on how they support each other and how much they care about each other. I also think I focused a little too much on their personalities and less so on the. Other necessary stuff... I've started thinking about their SEKAI. I think it should be something nostalgic in a way? With how much their stories seem to be dealing with the past so far, it'd make sense. I have a few ideas maybe, but I still need to flesh them out to even choose hehe

[a-spell-a-rebel-yell]

December

hello everyone, i know it's already day 23 of January 2024, literal almost a month after the month ends and is already on another year, but at least i'm here yaaay (i really need to start writing the monthly post a week before said month ends 😭)

December was actually, just as thrilling cliff-hanging as November! thing is my countdown to my other coldplay show was finally down to under 50 days and it was also the end of the very first semester.

just in the true fashion of my life, my adventure this time is: going back and forth between Jakarta and Tasik in under 24 hours (22 hours to be exact!) on a back-to-back journey just for school and seeing my hometown again 😂

so, as you can tell, i have so many assignments and one of them is a practical skill's lab project where i have a typodont (a phantom model of human teeth embedded in wax) and i pretend to apply orthodontic treatment on it to correct the malocclusion. it was not easy at all. it's quite literally a simulation of what will happen and what should i do when i treat an actual patient. the project lasted for almost five months and even the class didn't stop once the semester break came around, that is why i had to go back and forth between Jakarta and Tasik: i don't want to lose my holidays while still having to attend the weekly class 😂

some will say i'm insane because it's so tiring to do so and indeed it was super exhausting. but if you know me, i'm the type to do just about anything for my loved ones (my parents were staying at Tasik to take care of things and it's been a while i visited my grandparents' last resting place) so it was no big deal at all to endure 7 hours of bus trip each and then 1 hour commute to the station/home. a total 16 hours in 48 hours timeframe spent on the road. and it's worth it, every second of it, because i got to relax and work in the middle of lush green and rice fields... it was the very definition of healing time. i was still under the pressure of stress and deadline to finish that last project, but at least i did it while being surrounded by serene nature and with my mum and dad 😂😂😂 it's such a nice drastic change to do wire bending with all my pliers and stainless steel wires and orthodontic brackets with herd of ducks quacking loudly near me and farmers ploughing soil to plant rice seeds... best part? zero pollution! no light/sound/air pollution whatsoever and i get to see amazing sceneries right out of my windows every day! rain every evening to help me and my mum water the plants (which are thriving!) Mt Galunggung in its majestic full view... woah. it's my best treasure tbh nothing else compares

the most unexpected thing was that our class for that subject/project is usually scheduled on Thursday (so for the first back-and-forth journey i made sure to go back to Jakarta on Wednesday and get back to Tasik on Thursday right after the class ended) and for the second week, my prof suddenly requested us to come to the campus on Tuesday, and guess when did he sent the message to inform us? 6 AM on said Tuesday!!!!! oh you couldn't imagine my panic, how am i supposed to be in Jakarta in less than 4 hours!? thankfully my prof is a lenient one and he let me and kak Mandy (who was in Bandung at the time) to join the class from zoom. another good news is that class is to be our closing session for the project, and that i can just send my typodont instead of coming in person to submit the assignment. yet again Allah's plan is always better than my most carefully thought of one 🥺

the rest of the break i get to spend every day at my hometown just recharging my energy and soaking every positive molecule there is, and my mum have this brilliant idea to buy a table tennis equipment!

at first, not fully knowing the impact of my mum's seemingly random decision, i opposed the buying of said table tennis because it's quite expensive. but after it arrived and i got to play against my mum and dad (who happen to be great players!) i finally understand that my mum knew fully well i don't like outdoor sports (solely because i hate the sun getting my face so red lol) so table tennis is the best option! it's so fun to play and i still get to exert my whole body to get that exercising regime my nutritionist has told me years to do so 😂

for new year's eve, the end of 2023 is the quietest one yet. with just my parents, deep in the greens, miles from the city, and just watching Pengabdi Setan 2/Satan's Slaves 2 (exactly my style hahaha getting my dad to watch it!) i moved over to 2024. just saying and sending out my prayers to welcome the new year and hope i can go through whatever i must face in the future. and again, just how i like it, not many fireworks were blasted so it wasn't that rowdy. it almost didn't feel like NYE celebration, all is calm and cool.

i love slow living, far away from the crowded areas, i could quite literally stay in my hometown at my house and just. be there 😂 it's so easy for me because as long as i have my loved ones with me and a roof above my head, enough to live and get by... that is all. to reach that tranquility and peace of mind is one of the highest priority/goal for me. hope one day after i've accomplished my dreams i get to reside and rest where my heart has always been dwelling.

here's to another journey in 2024, i hope we can together make it through. see you in the January post, that as i said in my Nov one, i'm counting down 3 days to my trip to Singapore and 4 days until i see coldplay again, historic moment as i'll be back to the stadium where i first saw the band 7 years ago!!! see you all soon 💙

[harryssyndrome]

The Enemy: 3 | The Downfall

Pairing: Harry Styles x OC

Word count: 1.5k

SERIES MASTER-POST | MASTER-LIST

Home - July 27th, 1944 - 2:17 PM - Syracuse, Italy.

It's been five days since the girls had found Harry, three days since he has been conscious, he is having a speedy recovery but still he was weak. He was mostly in bed rest as he was not allowed to exhaust his body. He still needed support in moving from bedroom to living area or outside in the deck. Outside when the waves met the shore and seagulls sang, in a sarcastic way Harry played them background music - playing guitar.

It was Kate's mother guitar that she had in her room. She wasn't a expert but she was somewhat fine. He has a beautiful voice and played impressively Kate would think as she leaned against the wall and hear him getting lost into this lyrical world.

The sea view felt different from his presence, in a good way but instead of truly enjoying the moment in carefreeness, Kate's mind was running wild into the forest of downfall; he has to safely get back to his home, his family and not get noticed anywhere by anyone, but there's a chance someone might see him and get suspicious. What would happen if someone finds out about him after he's gone? When it's just the girl to face the consequences.

They won't get second chances and could spend rest of their lives in prison or worse, get killed. Her mind was getting crazier as every second went by, until she was pulled out of it by Harry's voice. " 'ey, you okay?" Kate just smiled and nodded.

"You wanna try?" Harry asked, holding up the guitar.

"Uh. n-no. I don't wanna be laugh of the day. I'm not good at it and been outta practice anyway so... umm.. you continue." She nervously looked at the ground.

"'ere let me help you." Harry patted his hand on the seat next to him, "you help me huh?" Kate tease while sitting down, "that's the only thing I can help you with, not compared to what you've done for me."

"I did what I was right. Don't mention it." She shrugged off.

Harry hand over the guitar to Kate and moved behind her. With back facing him, his arms stretched over to hold her palm and slowly glide her fingers back and forth onto the strings. It was definitely an electric touch if you'd ask Kate. It was what she felt for the first time in her lifetime. Right now they were lost in the moment.

Rave’s POV:

My brother has agreed to help us after detailed explanation of the whole situation. He assured me that he would be arranging some sort of transportation and intelligence just in case words get in about him. I was getting caught in my own thoughts when Mila reach out to me. "Rave what are you doin' 'ere?" She must have come to see his father, Commander Antonio Conti, and seen me leaving the building. "Nothing special. Just meeting my brother, had to talk about something.

"Aw, it must be something because you know, you two siblings what could be so important for you to come here, to meet him in person and not over a telephone?"

"I can come and talk to him about anything. That's none of your concern Mila. Stop bothering me and get the fuck outta here." Rave states, now increasing the pace.

"Fine! Sorry. Now I will mind my own business, I need your notes for practical, you said in front of Dr. Betty you will let me have em so that I can copy. You're going home right? I'll join you." Mila declare, making Rave tense from inside but she doesn't let it reflect on her face.

"I'll hand it over to you tomorrow in the class, okay? See you." Rave tries to end the conversation and go home. Mila can't see Harry in this condition, she can't let her come along.

"Oh no, I'll tag along with ya, there's only three days left for preparation it'll take time for me to write all the pages." Mila tries to stay persistent.

"I'll come to your house to give you tomorrow! Now let me go." Rave says irritated.

"What's the problem with right now? Is there something you're actually hiding?"

"There's nothing to hide, I'm tired s'all!" Rave counters. She thinks if she tries to make further excuses Mila could be more suspicious but it could turn out more worse if she notices Harry. But what if she tells Mila, maybe her father could help them. Rave decides not to tell Mila as she can't be trusted.

"Fine, you come with me but stay outside my house, neither I want you to come in nor Kate would like it."

"Remember the time we were good friends, good old days hm?"

"I don't know what I saw in you to be my friend. You have betrayed me, many time... now shut your mouth and keep walking." Rave spat while Mila lets a small "ugh" out of her mouth and keeps walking in silence.

We kept on walking for 27 minutes until we reached the house. As we approached the entrance door, I halted and turned around to face Mila and said "Stay here, I'll get it." And she returned her bitchy smile with a "okay", I unlocked the door and closed it, throwing my purse on sofa and rushing inside to find the notes as quickly as possible.

I located them inside my study desk's second drawer, when I heard some shouting outside, from the deck?

Third Person POV:

Harry and Kate were singing for god knows how long. Kate inquires if he was feeling thirsty like she was, Harry says yes and she got up from her seat to head back inside the home to get the water bottle. She returned back with bottle, Harry sitting with his back facing her, and she notices a red spot on his back, meaning his stitches might have gone lose somehow to allow the blood out of the wound. She walks over him, "here" Harry turned his head to see her, he smiles and take the bottle from her hand, opening and taking a big gulp of water.

"I see you leaking your blood" she jokingly said.

"What?" He chuckled.

"Let me get my first aid kit, your stitches seems to be lose, your T-shirt is stained with blood."

She went inside again to grab her kitbag and came back. She asked Harry to remove his T-shirt so that she could start. She was stitching when she heard a sound of clapping behind her. Mila? What was she doin' here? Kate stood there like a deer caught in headlight.

"So this is what Rave was hiding huh? Why she didn't wanted me to come. You're giving a refuge to an enemy! What did you think? You could hide this filth and no one would ever notice? You guys won't live this down! This man will be tortured and bled till death!"

Rave ran out of the house and stood in utter shock behind Mila.

"Mila, we didn't do anything wrong okay? We found him washed up by the shore, in a near dead condition. We had to save him, we're doctors it's our responsibility moreover I had to do it on humanitarian grounds. It was all my idea. I couldn't leave him there to just bleed and die! He's the not the enemy why do anyone wanna think that way huh? In this world we're all a big family. No one wants war or bloodshed. You should be helping us to get him back home safely and fight like this. For once don't be the selfish bitch you are!" Kate tries to convince her. Tears streaming down her face just with thought of Harry being hurt in these worse scenarios.

While Harry stared at Kate with glistening eyes, heart filled with nothing but love for girl he knew for 5 days. Who has risked her live for him and is still fighting for him.

"Oh Katie! You're gonna pay for everything! I'm gonna tell my father! You will kill all three of you and wipe out your families wherever they may be and then we'll be calling it even." She growled, turning in her heels and walk away while Kate grabbed a surgical pen cutter and ran after her. Kate stood in front of Mila, pointing it at her. "Back off Mila, you won't be leaving here." Mila looked stalled and raised her hands up. "What you're gonna keep me hostage? you can't keep me here forever. Your downfall has began... My dad will find me and then what's gonna happen to y'all?" She devilishly laughs.

"We'll manage" the girls said in unison.

A/N: Yay! We're almost halfway through this story! What's gonna happen now that downfall has began? Of course will start going south but what else? Tell me in comments!

Likes and reblog are appreciated!💗 Dm or comment to be added on the tag list.

[abarbaricyalp]

Hi! If you're still taking Whumptober 2022 prompts: no. 26 No one left behind-"Why did you save me?" for Sambucky, please and thanks?

Hello, friend!! I am very sorry about the delay on this. Also [I'm interrupting myself to say I feel so bad asking for prompts because I'm always like "weeeeeell, I went in a slightly different direction"] I went in a slightly direction. It's Sam/Riley with Sam & Bucky. It's also sad.

Rated T // 10.2k words // AO3 Link

Stained

“Hey, Redwing,” Sam called, pulling up in his flight. “You seein’ this?”

Riley circled back around to Sam, scanning the ground below them. Even without the goggles, they’d be able to spot the figure. They were dressed in all black, stumbling through the sand in something like a daze, which wasn’t uncommon. Sam and Riley ran into a lot of heat exhaustion victims. Something on the figure’s arm kept glistening in the sun. Sam had thought they’d had a weapon of some kind, but it was too polished, too large to be anything he was familiar with.

“Target?” Riley asked, but Sam could tell from his voice he didn’t really think it was their target. Sam thought about swiping over the image of their target as a silent ‘compare for yourself’ kind of gesture.

But the figure was covered head to toe, including over his face, as far as Sam could tell. There was no way to tell who they were or what their business in the desert was. Sam and Riley would have to go investigate to make sure this lone person wasn’t involved in anything their team needed to be aware of.

“We should watch him before making contact,” Sam decided. “Pull back a little. It’s a clear day. He may spot us if we keep too tight on him.”

“Roger that,” Riley agreed and looped further back in the direction they’d just come.

Here was another thing about this job: it was really difficult to tail someone who wasn’t moving. If Sam was on the ground, he might’ve stopped for some coffee, found a newspaper to read, kicked around a milk crate in an alley. Up in the sky, there was nothing to do. He wondered if he could convince someone to put sudoku on the wristlets. That should be Riley’s next project.

The figure on the ground was clearly lost or, at least, disoriented. They seemed to have a good enough head on their shoulders to not be panicking, but they definitely weren’t making any headway in their journey. For every quarter mile they trudged, they seemed to regret the decision, turned around, and started back the other way. Up in the air, a quarter mile was nothing. Sam was about to get nauseous from the spinning back and forth.

“I’m callin’ it, Falcon,” Riley said. “If we wait much longer, they’re gonna pass out.”

Sam sighed and then nodded. “Copy. I’ll follow you down.”

They landed in front of the figure, who had pulled off whatever had been on his face at some point. The goggles weren’t great at details like that. Sam had just assumed it was a sandmask. The man was…compact might be the best word. Muscular, but in a lithe way. Like a rock climber. Or someone who wasn’t eating.

“Hey, man, you got water?” Riley asked. Ever the pararescue, never the brute force. “You’re looking a little disoriented. Heat stroke is easy to ignore.”

The man did look confused. His blue eyes were darting between Sam and Riley like a rabbit caught in a trap, but when he dared to look away from them, he never ran. His brows just pinched in and he’d take a noncommittal step forward or back. Still unsure what direction he wanted to go.

“Hey, I’ve got a Pik. Will you drink for me?” Riley asked again, trying to draw the man’s attention to a fixed point. He had the hose nozzle to his water-pik in his hand, offering it out to the man as he tried to pull out as much of the tube as possible.

The man looked to Sam. “Hey, the sooner you do what he asks, the sooner he’ll stop talking,” Sam encouraged, gesturing for the nozzle.

Tentatively, the man stepped forward and took the nozzle, putting it between his lips and taking a long pull from it. Sam hated these things. He’d hated them in high school and he hated them now. They took more effort to use than they were worth. But this strange man in the desert seemed to be with the program, at least. Sam watched his throat bob with each swallow, kept count because he knew too much water at one time could be bad for a dehydration victim too.

“Rye,” he said in warning after a few minutes.

Riley put his hand on the man’s shoulder and gently pulled the Pik away from him. “More of that in a bit,” he promised. Both he and Sam were braced for a fight, but the man only took several steps back and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth.

Then Sam realized what he’d seen from the air wasn’t a weapon or something he was carrying. The glinting thing was the man’s arm. What kind of prosthetic was that? Sam had never seen anything like it. The sun was shining off of it blindingly and the man was taking great care not to use it, so Sam wasn’t sure how it worked. If it was one of the fancier, integrated systems or something like Miles, a buddy of his and Riley’s, had ended up with after their first tour, where he usually used his other hand to close his prosthetic fingers around whatever he wanted.

It had to be uncomfortable in this heat.

“Can you tell us your name?” Sam asked.

“They call me Soldier,” the man said. His voice was heavy and thick. There was some kind of accent, but Sam couldn’t place it.

“Story of our lives,” Riley agreed. “But what’s your name?”

The man frowned again, the same furrow coming to his brow. At least if he ran, Sam and Riley would be able to catch him. “I am called the Soldier.”

[blindingdutchy]

share | t.holland

{pornstar!tom x pornstar!reader}

summary: you don't like to share, but Tom's going to show you what happens to stingy girls on the playground.

word count: 10,663

warnings: i consider this a part two to switch. smut, little bit of angst, fluffy ending. language. explicit warnings under divide.

18+!!! minors stay away!

warnings: mean dom!tom, slight dom!fem oc, voyeurism, mff threesome, degradation, oral (m+f receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), orgasm denial, touch denial, slight bondage (hands tied only), jealous reader + arrogant tom, some daddy + sir kink

divider

There was a familiar ache in your core as you made your way into work that day. It was a sensation that shouldn't have embarrassed you anymore considering it was in your line of work to take a beating of the sexual sort, but your blood bubbled with fluttery shame anyways because you knew it was definitely not from any job you'd done. The handprints that lingered on your skin were Tom's, as was the throbbing between your legs.

Your coworkers had grown accustomed to the funny way you'd been walking; after all, it had been months of you turning up to the studio just like this. Aching all over, exhausted, and all flustered smiles as every little jolt of pain in your body reminded you of him. Tom really knew how to keep a woman coming back for more, to say the least.

Despite the tender way you were forced to move around, you were excited to get into work that day. You'd been working on a new project behind the scenes for almost a month already, and today you were finally meeting with your favorite director and photographer to start the ball rolling. This was what you'd been fantasizing about doing ever since you'd been brought into the agency--straying away from your dominatrix persona and onto a more personal, enjoyable path.

Priscilla was already waiting for you in the conference room, bursting with energy as she always was and chatting the ears off of Archie. The two of them were sliding a few of your scribbled mock-ups around, along with more than a few stills of your naked body, and nestled so deeply into a conversation that they didn't notice the click of the door as it shut behind you. Even clearing your throat couldn't break their concentration.

"Starting without me?" you questioned, loudly, and finally caught the glimmering eyes of Priscilla.

Priscilla was practically buzzing with excitement as she grinned at you, clapping her hands once before waving you over, "(Y/N), perfect timing! So, Archie and I were thinking about your ideas for doing a cam-girl style video--"

She chattered on and on, only pausing every so often to take a heaving breathe before continuing. The more she said, the more you realized just how much work the two of them had done without you--Priscilla was already pitching set designs and potential scenarios for each video, and Archie was doing his best to help you visualize the filmography he had in mind. It was pretty hard to keep up, but you had to admit seeing their passion for the project only spurred your own to burn a little brighter.

The project was something you'd been dreaming of for awhile. A solo series of videos in the iconic style of a cam-girl; just you, your camera, and whatever you felt like putting out there for the world to see. For so long you'd been afraid to even pitch the idea out of fear of being denied funding, and rightfully so.

You'd had to fight tooth and nail to gain the backing of the agency. It had been a month of pitching idea after idea, crunching numbers and screening all the statistics of solo work so that you could propose a target profit for the company. In the end, you'd gotten the green light--but there was a lot riding on this first video.

If you failed to meet the target you'd set for yourself, the agency would pull the plug on the project and you'd be right back to the leather outfits and whining men. The thought of it urged you to outperform all the standards you'd set for yourself. You were peddle to the metal, full throttle ahead, and Priscilla and Archie's sounding board of ideas were exactly the encouragement you needed.

Archie fiddled with some settings on his camera, instructing you on a few head shots until he was satisfied. "That's it!" he cheered, "You like it? Obviously we'll work on better lighting for the videos, and there'll be editing--but I think this suits you."

Peering over his shoulder, your heart soared at the work of your favorite camera man. "Oh, Archie! That's perfect... If you'd just shown me that I'd definitely think it was the real deal." you gasped, and he grinned at you cheerfully. "How about a lunch break before we get back to work?"

The two of them muttered some hushed agreements, nodding absentmindedly as Priscilla looked over the photos and they returned to the scatter of papers and film on the table. "Yeah, yeah, you go ahead, honey." Priscilla cooed, waving a hand over her shoulder carelessly before tilting her head and squinting her eyes at one of your drawings. "Oh, what do you think about--no, that won't do... but maybe?"

With a hushed chuckle, you shook your head at the two of them and backed out of the room quietly. It almost seemed as if they were more excited than you were, but your stomach was rumbling and you needed something to eat before you started chewing on paper like a goat. Only, along the way toward the exit you paused outside one of the studios at the sound of Tom's voice.

Peeking inside, you smiled at the sight of his mop of curls bobbing--the smile faded to a grimace as you realized he was in no position to talk at the moment. You trailed a little further into the room and shot a tentative smile to one of the crew members who nodded to you, no longer surprised by your presence. Many times before you'd sat in on Tom's filming days, as he had done yours, but never before had you seen him at work with his most frequent costar.

Her name was Melaina, a startlingly attractive woman with what you were fairly certain was the world's most perfect face, and she was the star of most of Tom's work. You had nothing against her, having run into her quite a few times at work and never being anything short of pleased with her sweet and charismatic aura, but man was it hard not to feel inferior as you watched the two of them in action. It was as if they knew what the other would do before they even moved, connected on some spiritual level that boosted their chemistry to an astronomical level.

Tom's body was glistening with sweat and oil, his eyes dark and hooded with lust as he towered over her. The muscles in his back, chest, and arms all rippled with every move he made and caught the light just right, and you found yourself shifting on your feet subconsciously as you watched. Your hands twitched with the desire to push that one stubborn curl out of his face as it slid across his forehead, heavy and sodden with sweat.

Melaina gave a breathy moan that had you swallowing down a lump in your throat, her hands raking down Tom's chest only for him to swat them away and pin them to the bed above her head, "No touching!" he snapped, voice booming through the cavernous room, and you nearly groaned in sync with his counterpart. Too many times he'd growled those words to you, just like that, and the heat between your legs throbbed at the memory.

"Please, daddy," Melaina wailed, "I wanna cum!"

For a moment you rolled the name around your tongue, pursing your lips as you pondered what it would feel like to call Tom such a thing. It didn't feel right though; a sour taste compared to the deliciously sweet way sir rolled from your lips. His low, devilish chuckle brought you back to the present as you focused on the scene before you.

With a long, drawn out roll of his hips, Tom leaned down to Melaina's ear and spoke, "Bad girls don't get to come, darling."

Oh, fuck.

Hearing that name, that one little word, spill forth from his lips in reference to someone other than yourself ignited a certain flame within you that you hadn't felt in quite some time. It was green; everything tinged green in your vision like the sickening tone of the clouds before a treacherous storm. Jealousy wasn't something you wore often, but hearing that was enough to sit the crown of envy heavily upon your head.

Almost as if he could sense it, sense your turmoil, Tom's head tilted back until he looked you heavily in the eye. Your jaw tensed as he continued to push his hips harder through Melaina's cries and pleas, fingers clenching into fists as you tried to get yourself under control. It didn't mean anything.

You and Tom were nothing but friends with benefits, heavy on the benefits and light on the friendship, and this was his job. Hell, it was your job too! It didn't mean a damn thing.

His eyes never strayed from yours as that familiar pinch formed between his brows, his entire body growing rigid. He was brutal with the force of his hips, his hands groping roughly at Melaina's perfect ass and his lips parting in a silent 'o' that grew wider and wider until--there it was. His eyes locked on yours, Tom thrust twice more as a gritted laugh burst from his chest and he stilled completely. She mewled beneath him like a vixen, arching off the bed and crying, "Yes, daddy! Cum for me!"

He knew. His haughty smirk, ticked jaw, and glinting eyes told you well enough that he knew exactly what you were feeling, all the bitter and envious thoughts swirling through your mind. He knew, and he was thoroughly enjoying the way you were rooted in place under the weight of all your jealousy, your eyes locked with his and unable to break free.

"Cut!"

The sound of the clapper snapping and the director's loud shout startled you out of the strange limbo of envy and hunger you'd been trapped in. Tom muttered something to Melaina with a flirtatious grin that made your gut twist, and she laughed loudly whilst slapping a hand across his chest playfully. Suddenly, you weren't so hungry anymore, nor were you entirely interested in speaking to Tom.

You were out of focus for the rest of your day at work, earning disgruntled and concerned stares from your two colleagues who were working tirelessly to perfect all of your plans before the test shoot the following day. All of your thoughts were consumed with Tom, though, and it left you feeling nauseous. Never before had you cared much at all that he was with other women, knowing it was just a day's work for him, but seeing him with Melaina had truly rubbed you raw in the worst way.

The ache between your legs didn't make your heart flutter for the moment. Instead, each time you moved wrong and felt that persistent twinge, it made bile creep up your throat and your face burn with a mixture of bitter emotions. It wasn't that you were suddenly craving more from Tom--because you weren't, and as much as you enjoyed his company you weren't interested in a relationship.

Inferiority was a hell of a bitter pill. That was the root of the green eyed monster that was steadily taking control of you; Melaina made you feel inferior, and you hated it more than anything. Clearly he found her to be a better costar than you, considering he'd not once requested you even after starring in your own special. That was the first strike.

But, was she a better lay than you? Did she feel better, make him feel better than you? Did she talk dirtier, obey faster, and mold herself into whatever he wanted better than you? What if you weren't the only one he invited into his own bed at night?

By the time you left work the sun was setting, hours had passed, and you were exhausted from your racing mind. Usually Tom would have come to find you after he finished filming, but he hadn't and that bothered you. You knew it was probably all a game to him, a way for him to get you all riled up and tease you for it, but you weren't playing. You didn't want to play his games today, and when he finally texted you that night you left all of his messages on read with an acrid taste in your mouth.

"Ready for the big day?"

A peculiar sense of deja vu washed over you as you opened your dressing room door to reveal Tom perched on the other vanity seat, a tiny smile twitching at his lips and a twinkle in his eye. You really should have expected him to be there considering he'd been eagerly talking about watching you film for days, but after ignoring him you were more than surprised to see him waiting patiently for you to arrive. The door shut with a dull click, and Tom watched you closely.

Whatever he was playing at, you weren't going to bite--today was a big day for you, and nothing was going to distract you from your work. "What are you doing here?" you asked, huffing as your voice cracked and robbed you of your attempt to play it cool.

He just chuckled, a hoarse and airy sound, and licked his lips, "You think I'd miss the chance to see my girl touch herself for hours?"

His girl?

The words swirled around your brain the entire time you got ready, Marlena eyeing you curiously as you twiddled your thumbs quietly and payed no mind to either of the two people in your presence. What the hell did he mean by that? Why did your heart go on the fritz at those two silly words?

"Are you mad at me, lovie?" Eyes flickering over to Tom, you grew hot under his speculative gaze. Head tilted to one side, brown eyes narrowed slightly, and lips puckered in a tiny pout that made you swoon, he asked, "Have I done something to upset you?"

In the mirror you could see Marlena fighting back a smile, looking between the two of you with quivering lips as she held herself back from interrupting the moment. "No," you muttered, dropping your eyes back to your fiddling fingers, "I'm just nervous."

You didn't have to look to know that Tom was smirking, the sound of his soft laughter cluing you into the fact well enough. There was that deja vu again, your mind traveling back to that first time he'd sat in your dressing room and asked if he made you nervous. Teasingly, he asked, "Am I making you nervous, darling?"

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, "No."

Tom's eyes were all over you the moment you stepped onto the set and dropped your robe into an assistant's waiting arms. Clad in a skimpy lace negligee with nothing underneath, it was understandable that he'd be quite enraptured--never before had you worn something so dainty for your work, nor had you ever worn anything quite like the transparent scrap during any of your visits to his apartment. Even you yourself were quite enthralled by the look of it, having admired your reflection in the mirror for ages before finally joining the crew to start working.

As you soaked up the warm, tingling sensation of his ravenous eyes trailing over every inch of your body, you slowly relaxed into his presence. All the thoughts of Melaina drifted away, and you were biting back pleased smiles each and every time you acknowledged his gaze. It felt nice; it felt like it had every time he'd watched you film before, only better because now you were finally fully enjoying your project.

He hung back beside Priscilla in front of the big screen which displayed all the different camera angles whilst you ambled your way around the set. It wasn't complete, but it was enough for you all to get an idea of what the final design should be. A queen sized bed with dark, silk sheets in the center of a warmly lit stage, piled high with pillows of all sizes--already you were imagining towering bed posts with chiffon curtains framing the beautiful space.

There was one camera posted at the foot of the bed which was to be the main view point for the video. Climbing aboard you shifted until your bottom was posted over the scribbled X and leaned back onto your elbows, your knees propped up and spread wide. "How's this look?" you called out, craning your neck to see Priscilla, Archie, and Tom.

"Slide up a bit," Archie bellowed back, "a bit more--that's it! Oh, fuck, that looks amazing."

Having slid up the mattress half a foot, your head fell onto the bed of pillows that were finally within reach. From your new vantage point you could admire Tom, and the sight of him was enough to already have your thighs dampening. It seemed as if he were unsure as to where to look, his eyes flickering back and forth from the blown up, pixelated version of you to the real deal hastily.

The angle was awkward, and no matter how hard you stared he never made eye contact. It was then that you realized he couldn't see your face, at least not the real one, and a certain thrill sparked within you. Trailing your fingers over your stomach slowly, you reached for the frilled edge of the fabric and bit back a giggle as he tensed all over.

Licking your lips in time with Tom, you shouted, "Should we get started, then?"

Within seconds the clapper was dropped, and Priscilla boomed, "Test one, rolling!"

It was strange having to force yourself to look into the camera, rather than avoiding it so as not to ruin the flow of a scene. But, after a few moments of running your hands over your body and trying to get into the right mindset, your mind drifted away from the crowded room and into your own personal bubble. In there, that secret place you escaped to, it was just yourself and Tom.

Your body heated as you pictured him in place of the camera. In your vision he was bare and glistening, just for you; sitting on his heels with his knees spread apart and his hands ghosting over his length languidly. So many nights you'd laid before him like this, aching and begging for his hands to take the place of your own.

"Show me what those fingers can do, darling." he cooed, voice silky and sweeter than honey. It was a stark contrast to the dark, all-consuming pull of his brown eyes that lusted for you greedily.

Breathing a little harder, you tugged the stretchy lace further down your chest until your breasts were exposed to the chilled air. Tom's eyes glimmered, his tongue swiping over his lower lip, and you desperately wished it were his lips wrapping around one of your pebbled buds instead of your clammy fingers. Your eyes fluttered shut for a second as you imagined it; reminiscing on the sensation of his hot, silky tongue swirling around your nipples and tugging them delightfully into his mouth.

It was incredibly hard not to cry out for him as you descended further into the scenario you'd created for yourself. Nevertheless, you swallowed down all the whimpers of his name that bubbled to your lips eagerly, instead whining soft noises that even turned yourself on. "Love those pretty sounds, (Y/N)." he always hummed down your ear, scorching breathe fanning all across your neck.

The facade didn't fade as you opened your eyes again with heavy lids that begged to fall shut again. You tugged hard at one of your rosebuds in sync with Tom's harsh pull over his cock, and your back arched as you gave a loud cry. He moved his hand faster and clenched his eyes shut for a second as he groaned, "Enough teasing, lovie, show me that perfect pussy. Wanna see you cum all over your fingers f'me."

You couldn't have agreed more. Your heat was hot and dripping, your thighs slipping across the sheets a little more easily as you pooled your juices onto the mattress longingly. Tracing your fingers over the swell of your chest and down your stomach, you peeled your flimsy gown back until it was all bunched up beneath your breasts.

Tom watched with baited breathe, held perfectly in sync with your own burning chest, as you teased your fingers all around where you ached to be touched the most. Just as you finally dipped the tip of your middle finger into the slick, a shuffle and quiet laugh shattered the vision of Tom. You huffed in frustration the buzzing in your veins dulled and your hand fell limp over your bare middle.

"Cut!" Priscilla shouted, and even she sounded frustrated as you sat up and ripped your negligee back down, "That was really good, (Y/N)! Wanna have a look?"

You did, but you could barely hear the words coming from Priscilla's mouth as you took in the scene before you. There was Tom, hands cupped over his crotch like they always were when he watched you film, but this time he wasn't watching you. Instead, he was entirely focused on Melaina who stood beside him with one dainty hand stroking his arm, the other twirling the skirt of her sundress lazily.

Your blood boiled to life once more, but no longer was it out of desire for Tom. Pursing your lips, you called back to Priscilla, "No, let's just keep going." He was still engrossed in his hushed conversation with her, and you added pettily, "Might I remind some of you to be quiet on set!"

Melaina's stifled giggle turned the green hue in your eyes red, but you took a deep breathe and resisted the urge to roll your eyes. It didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything, it didn't mean anything. The mantra echoed through your head as you did your best to keep your ridiculous envy at bay; Tom wasn't yours, nor were you his, and you had nothing to be jealous of.

You did, however, roll your eyes at the sight of Tom's devious smirk. It only widened at the action, and in spite of your wish to pretend he didn't affect you, your thigh clenched subconsciously. "Sorry, darling, we'll be quiet." he hummed, greedily soaking up the distasteful purse of your lips with his eyes.

It was harder to get back into the groove once the cameras started rolling again. Tom's image wavered in place of the camera, your mind clouded with all the conflicting emotions you were feeling, and no matter how hard you tried you just couldn't get back into that bubble. You pushed through, though, and picked up where you'd left off.

"Look at you," Tom simpered as your fingers dipped into your slick once again, your jaw slackening as you toyed one finger through your entrance, "absolutely dripping for me. Does it get you off to see me with another woman?"

What the hell was that? His words were like a record scratch in your mind, your fingers recoiling from your throbbing core in shock. Trying again, you changed your direction and drifted your fingers to your clit with a soft sigh. Closing your eyes to shut out his smirking face again, you rolled the soft pads over your bud and felt your lips part in a hushed moan.

How easy it would have been to keep them closed and push yourself over that edge with nothing but the sensation to edge you forward, but you knew that wouldn't make for a satisfying watch. So, begrudgingly, you opened your eyes again to the scene you'd created for yourself. Tom was sitting on the bed now, his legs spread wide before him to leave space for you between, and his length was laid against his thigh lazily. The tip was weeping and blazing red, a thick drop of pearly precum making your lips tingle with desire.

His hands wrapped around the footboard of the bed, gripping the solid wood so tightly his knuckles turned white and his arms rippled with unbridled strength. All that muscle, the sinewy, languid curl of hard muscle beneath soft flesh pulled taught in restraint; it was enough to have you drooling. Your fingers slipped easily from your swollen clit to your slit, and you dipped the tip of your middle finger inside with a choked cry.

Tom moaned back at you, his cock twitching as he flexed his stomach, eyes glued to the tight clench of your cunt around your fingers. "Fuck, lovie, do your fingers feel as good as mine?" he asked, "Does that pussy feel as good as hers?"

What the fuck?

Melaina's giggle echoed through the set, piercing the thickened air and startling you nearly as much as the wild turn your imagination had taken. Growling angrily, you slapped your hands onto the mattress beside you and pouted, "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Sorry, I'm so sorry!" Melaina squeaked, sounding so genuinely apologetic it only irritated you further, "Stop it, Tom, you made me laugh."

Sitting up once more, propped up on your hands, you scowled fiercely at the sight of Tom's arm draped over her shoulders and his head dipped low to whisper in her ear. His eyes were trained on you, though, and you knew damn well that coy smirk that teased at his lips was meant for you alone. Melaina gripped the hand over her shoulder tightly as she stifled another laugh, eyes twinkling to match the beaming smile on her face.

Backing his lips away from Melaina's hair, Tom faced you dead on as his head cocked to the side playfully. Narrowing your eyes, you scoffed as he winked at you. That bastard! You flopped back onto the bed with a growl, wanting nothing more than to kick him off the set, but you refrained. You knew it would only cement what he'd already figured out within his head; it would prove that you were without a doubt, one hundred and ten percent jealous.

"How about we take five, everyone!"

You practically threw yourself off of the bed, snatching your robe from the timid assistant with a huff before stomping off the set entirely. What was he playing at? It was one thing for Tom to toy with you, but to purposefully throw you off when you were working? That was low.

Alone in the small room, you dropped your head onto your vanity with a loud groan of annoyance. So many new emotions were swirling around you, plaguing your mind and twisting your gut up into knots so tight you actually felt ill. You couldn't even begin to unravel the twisted mess to pick apart all the different things you were feeling.

There was a quiet knock on the door, and you didn't have to look to know who it was. "G'way!" you grumbled, hissing angrily when the door opened anyways, "I said--"

Tom crashed his lips to yours, choking your words and the muffled squeal of surprise that escaped you. Pushing his weight onto you and pinning you to the chair, he bit down on your lower lip until you whined pitifully, pulling away to look you heavily in the eye, "You ignored me last night."

"So? I wasn't feeling it." you retorted, the almost lie making your stomach flutter. "Is that why you're trying to ruin my test shoot? Another bullshit punishment?"

He gaped at you for a moment, his lips parting in surprise as he blinked down at you wordlessly. But, just as you were settling into the triumph of finally rendering him speechless, he sputtered a sinister chuckle and smirked. Clicking his tongue reproachfully, he tutted, "Are you jealous, darling? Is that what this little tantrum is about? Are you jealous of Melaina?"

The words of your imaginary Tom echoed in your ears, the thin flesh and cartilage heating up in embarrassment as you scoffed, "No, why the hell would you think that?"

Smirk widening, he leaned close to nuzzle his face into your ear as he hummed, "Mm, I think you're lying, lovie. I think you were jealous watching me fuck her yesterday, and today you're so bothered you can't even perform. Envy is a hell of a thing, wouldn't you say?"

His lips sucked on the tender skin of your earlobe, drawing the faintest of whimpers from your lips, and he released it with a dramatic suckle of a wet, sloppy kiss. He whispered tauntingly, "Did it make you jealous to see me cum for somebody else? To see me fuck Melaina instead of you?"

"N-no-- oh, fuck."

Tom's fingers dragged heavily through your folds, a gush of your juices immediately flooding into his open palm in response. His thumb rolled over your clit faintly, teasing the rapidly swelling bundle as he chuckled right into your ear, "Don't lie to me, darling."

That stupid name that he'd called her made you steel your resolve, stubbornly repeating, "'M not jealous, Tom. You can fuck whoever you want."

His fingers plunged into you to the knuckle, earning a loud gasp as your hands flew to his arms and clutched him tightly. "Yeah? 'S that so?" he asked, nipping the hot skin of your neck until you whined desperately, "Think I'd like a taste then, love."

This was certainly turning out far better than you'd expected. With a racing heart and a quivering breathe, you gasped, "Please, Tom." Tom's eyes narrowed at you, his expression hardening as he pinched your hip in warning. "Please, I want you to have a taste, sir."

He grinned, patting your cheek in a playful slap as he cooed, "There's my good girl. Spread your legs, darling."

Obediently, you eagerly spread your legs until your thighs were digging into the sides of your chair and shaking as you fought to keep them splayed so wide. The lace of your negligee was pulled taught and curled up over your hips at the movement, exposing all of you to Tom's greedy eyes. He licked his lips as he gazed down at his fingers still buried inside you as deep as they would go, flexing the two digits and closing his eyes as you cursed and clenched around them.

You crooned as he pulled them out and thrust them back in slowly, curling until the tips dragged over your spot lazily. "Please, sir, want your tongue, too." you pleaded, digging your thighs further into the seat as you rutted down onto his once again motionless fingers.

His eyes snapped open and he quirked his one ruffled brow playfully, "Yeah? You want my fingers and my tongue?" Tom dug the pad of his thumb into your clit deeply, pressing your button down and making your entire body spasm from the harsh stimulation, "I don't know if you deserve both, lovie. You're lucky you're even getting my fingers."

Whining, you threw your head back childishly and ground your hips into his fingers indignantly. He kept them steady, only slightly brushing your g-spot through your forced motion, and his free hand clamped down on your thigh in a bruising grip. "Please!" you begged, "Please, sir, I'll be so good!"

Your pleas molded into a shout as his lips closed suddenly around your clit, his thumb sliding aside to spread your folds open for him as he sucked at your sensitive nub harshly. Tom's fingers pulled out slowly before slamming back into you, his fist effectively punching your core and making you ache, but you moaned and begged for more. Each forceful blow pushed his fingers right into your spot, the tips curling to drag against your upper wall with every motion.

In mere moments you were seeing stars. Your stomach was tightening beyond measure, that coil winding so tight you feared you might break when it finally snapped, but you met each thrust of his hand with a jerk of your hips eagerly. His tongue flicked against your clit in rapid kitten licks, sparking your body to spasm violently each time. "I'm so close, sir!" you gasped, digging your nails into the armrest of your seat as your back arched in pleasure, "I'm gonna--"

With one last long, hard suck on your bundle, Tom pulled away from you completely. His fingers ripped away from your dripping slit and slid in between his glistening lips, that tongue swirling dramatically around the digits as he sat back on his heels much like he had in your imagination. Gaping, you huffed, "What the hell, Tom?"

He grinned devilishly, "Admit you were jealous, and I'll let you cum."

Sputtering, you spat out, "I told you I wasn't jealous."

"Mm, but I know you're lying, darling," he teased, eyes glinting playfully, "and I want to hear you admit it. You wanna cum all over my fingers and my tongue?"

You nodded hesitantly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you whispered, "Yes, sir."

He leaned in close, his nose brushing against yours and his lips ghosting over your own as he whispered, "Admit you were jealous."

Closing your eyes, you took a deep breathe. You felt hot all over with embarrassment, your skin burning and your blood boiling beneath, but fuck, you really wanted that sweet release that only he could give you. So, with trembling lips, you whispered, "I was jealous."

Eyes still closed, you jumped as his fingers brushed over your clit in a feather light touch. He pressed a slow, soft kiss to your lips that had you chasing him for more when he backed away and asked, "Are you still jealous?" One finger toyed with your slit, drawing a harsh line up and down your entrance as you resisted the urge to push further into his hand.

"Y-yes."

He chuckled, and your eyes snapped open as he backed away from you, his hand disappearing from your core. His eyes were dark in a ruthless stare as he stated, "You need to learn to share, love. Stingy girls don't get to cum." And, just like that, he retreated from the room leaving you staring after him in utter shock.

You weren't sure what you were expecting when you rocked up to Tom's apartment that night following his typical, "You up?" text. What you most certainly had not expected, though, was to find Melaina sprawled out on his sofa in nothing but a sheer negligee--nothing at all underneath. In a strange sense, you figured you should have seen it coming; what better way for Tom to torment you than to make you face the root of your jealousy?

"Mm, on second thought," you hummed, pursing your lips as you took in the woman's sensual form upon his couch, "I think I'll be going."

Turning to leave, you crashed nose first into Tom's hard chest with a muffled grunt of surprise. His hands crept around your waist in a lazy fashion, dragging the fabric of your shirt up until his warm palms found the icy chill of your bare skin. It sent a shiver down your spine, much to your own chagrin.

He pouted, jutting his lower lip out at you tauntingly as he leaned close to brush his nose along the high point of your cheek. "You've only just got here, darling," he mused, "I missed you last night. You left me all alone."

It was really pathetic how easily he broke through your walls. Despite your tireless efforts to re-stack each brick he knocked down, the feeling of his soft lips ghosting along the supple skin of your cheeks had those same cinderblocks crumbling to dust. A gentle kiss on the apple of your cheek, a fleeting peck at the slope of your forehead, one slow trail along the angle of your jaw--you were putty in his hands when his lips finally found your own.

Even as his tongue traced the outline of your lips, you desperately tried to fight his hold on you. Grumbling into his mouth, "I'm sure you could have found company elsewhere--"

Tom bit down on your lower lip, hard, and pulled until it snapped back with a loud pop that made you whimper. Yet, his eyes were tender in a way you'd never seen before as he gazed down at you longingly, whispering, "I wanted you, though."

Yeah, you were fucked.

Breathing a little heavier, you gave into your more animalistic desires in spite of the jealousy and irritation that still boiled deep within your veins. A childish, prideful part of you boasted over his words; he'd wanted you! Not Melaina, not anyone else, just you. It was utterly ridiculous.

Tom's brown eyes were warm, inviting, and curious as he waited for you to make the next move. You could see the questions bouncing around behind them; would you leave? Would you stay? But, there was a familiar glimmer of mischief buried behind the thick honey gaze that had you waiting for the other foot to fall.

Taking your lack of movement as an answer, a desire to stay, Tom pressed another kiss to your lips. Long, slow, and mind-boggling--it felt like your soul left your body with the way he curled his plush lips into yours. Already you were heating up, your body buzzing and growing hotter with desire in each second that passed.

You clawed your fingers into the hem of his shirt, scratching your nails along the flesh of his lower abdomen in a futile attempt to ground yourself. It was a frantic plea to him to hold you there, to keep you from floating away as his kiss took you to higher places. He gave a gentle hiss into your mouth at the sting, but pushed harder into your face as his hands inched higher up your back to toy with the band of your bra.

Fingers gently swept the collar of your shirt down, exposing your neck as fuller, softer lips ghosted along the line of the fabric. Wait--lips? Jumping, you reeled back from Tom's face with widened eyes to find Melaina blinking back at you, eyes blown wide with lust.

"What are you--"

Tom popped the clasp of your bra with ease, looking down at you with darkened irises. "Is this okay?" he asked, glancing at Melaina who was waiting beside your twisted, intertwined bodies for approval.

Her fingers swirled slow, tingling circles on your hip, lip caught between pearly, white teeth as she watched you with enraptured intensity. Two minutes ago, the word no would have spilled from your lips without a moment of hesitation--but now? Now, as your eyes lingered on the swollen, bitten lower lip that called for you to taste it; as you trailed them lower to admire the perfectly soft curve on every inch of her body, it wasn't so clear.

There was a supple rise of her chest with every breathe, hardened nipples poking through the transparent fabric of her dress. Rounded breasts upon a gentle, sloping waist, wide hips that certainly gave way to a perfect handful of ass and thigh, all leading the eye down the length of her sculpted legs. Melaina was like a work of art, and every inch of her that you admired sent tingles through your body.

Glancing back at Tom, you nearly moaned out loud. Her eyes burned the side of your face, but it was nothing compared to the heat of Tom's stare into your very soul. It sucked the breathe out of you and left you feeling dizzy, your vision darkening until all you could see were the artful angles of his face.

You spoke hoarsely, swallowing down the lump that formed in your throat, "Yes."

Tom's mouth parted against yours in an instant, his hot tongue slipping inside and making your eyes roll back as Melaina pressed her body against your side and latched onto your neck. Sucking, biting, rolling the soft muscle of her tongue all along each sharp nibble to soothe the tender flesh--it was an overload of sensation all at once. You didn't know where to put your hands as they both crept theirs all over your body.

It was impossible to decipher where one ended and the other began. Whose hand was that gripping your ass? Whose were peeling your bra straps down our arms under your sleeves? Who was slipping their thumbs along the waistband of your pants, tickling your hot, sensitive skin?

Moaning, you gasped, "Please!"

You weren't even sure what you were asking for, but Melaina quickly stepped aside to let Tom pull your shirt over your head as your bra fell to the floor at your feet. He admired your chest for a long moment, palms cupping the swell of your breasts as his thumbs rolled over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, earning a muffled groan from you. Licking his lips, he stepped back and waved the eagerly waiting woman forward.

As Melaina devoured your chest, you followed him with your gaze through heavy lidded eyes. He watched on with an indecipherable glint in his eyes, lips glistening with a mixture of your saliva and his own. Those long lashes fluttered as he dragged his tongue slowly over the plump of his lower lip, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale as if he were tasting you all over again.

Her lips were wrapped tightly around your left nipple when he finally disappeared behind you, a shiver wracking your body when his fingers caressed the arch of your spine in a fluttering touch. Chest pressed warmly to your bare back, he dipped low to mix his own marks with the ones she had left behind. You dropped your head back onto his shoulder, lulling to the side to expose the entirety of your throat to him in submission.

When had he removed his shirt? The bare skin of his torso was scorching on your back, matching the heat of his tongue dipping in your collarbone in time with a twirl of hers around your other nipple. Fingers, hands, lips, tongues everywhere; your body was reaching its boiling point.

"Come to bed with us?" Tom's husky whisper directly into the shell of your ear had you whining, arching your back until your behind rolled harshly into his crotch. His length ground into you roughly, a quiet groan escaping his lips at the stimulation, "Fuck, darling, you like this?"

Weakly, barely able to focus through all the pleasurable touches to your body, you whispered, "Yes, yes, sir. Please."

You should have known it wouldn't last. You should have anticipated the shift in Tom's attitude, revealing his true intentions to you as he lead you by the wrist into his bedroom to find a dining chair at the side of his bed. But, you blinked up at him dumbfounded as he held up a silk tie before your face with a devilish grin.

Melaina stretched out on the bed with a hand between her legs, knees propped open wide as she touched herself lazily and watched you closely. Glancing at the tie, then the chair, and then Tom's arrogant smirk, you mumbled, "What is that?"

He just chuckled throatily, grinning as he hummed, "Sit in the chair, darling." You blinked again, frozen in place, "Sit, now, or I promise you'll not like the outcome."

Instinctively, your knees crumbled until you fell into the chair with a frown. He snatched your wrists roughly, twisting them behind the back of the chair until the backs of your hands touched and you whined in protest, "That hurts, Tom."

He pulled further, a sharp ache burning through the muscles of your arms as they dug harshly into the back of the chair. "Watch it, (Y/N)." he growled.

"Sorry, sir." you muttered pitifully, eyes downcast to avoid the amused smile on Melaina's face, "What's going on?"

Tom didn't answer you for a long while, taking his time to tie your wrists with the tie until he was certain you couldn't break free. Testing the restraints, you pouted as the fabric didn't yield in any way to your tugs. He hummed under his breathe in appreciation, though, stroking a finger up the length of your arm as he rounded to face you again.

Melaina sat up and leaned into the arm he reached out toward her, your gut twisting bitterly at the sight of her purring under his touch like a cat. "I told you, darling, that stingy girls don't get to cum." he restated his words from earlier, and your body burned with embarrassment, "So, I'm going to teach you to share. You're gonna sit there and watch me, and you're going to deal with it like a big girl. Understood?"

"But I--"

"Do you understand?" Tom hissed, eyes narrowing in a fierce glare that dared you to challenge him further. You couldn't miss the way his fingers twitched, the familiar sting of his palm on your behind ghosting over the skin in anticipation of impact. He remained rooted in place, though, leaning into Melaina's body that was steadily wrapping further around him.

Her lips were on his chest, leaving a flurry of angry purple marks that made you want to scream like a child. "I understand, sir." you grumbled, slumping into the seat.

He smiled, "Good."

It was as if you disappeared from the room entirely in that instant. He turned to Melaina, completely absorbed in her presence as his hands slid around her waist to grab fistfuls of her ass. Groaning, he squeezed the flesh tighter until she whimpered. Your own body ignited in shame and jealousy, fingers clenching into fists that tugged uselessly against their bonds.

The sound of their lips smacking as they kissed, wet and sloppy sounds that echoed in your ears, made you want to whine. How had it come to this, when only moments ago they were kissing you like that? Was this the only reason you were here?

You watched on with an aching core, racing heart, and sweaty palms as the heat intensified between them. There was that chemistry you'd witnessed on set--their movements so in sync it seemed as if they were connected spiritually, a perfect flow of seamless give and take. It was almost painful to watch.

The jealousy that tore you to shreds was not from a desire to be the only woman in Tom's life, though a selfish part of you did secretly relish in the thought. It was an aching, grotesque and petty desire to know that you were the best. You were jealous of the way he found pleasure in someone else, when all you wanted was to know that you were unmatched. You were jealous to feel his touch on your body, and some part of you was growing desirous of hers as well.

It was a purely physical sort of envy; no feelings attached. Or, at least that's what you told yourself. In some sense there had to be a sort of emotional drive behind it, but it was easier to tell yourself it was stupid pride instead of murky, confusing feelings.

Your eyes clenched shut as you bit back a huff of frustration. Melaina's moans grew louder, until she shrieked, "Please, daddy, wanna feel you!"

There was a smack and a rustle, and when you opened your eyes Tom had shoved Melaina flat onto her stomach. The skin of her still rippling ass was reddened in a blazing hand print, his hand rubbing over the mark soothingly. "You wanna feel daddy's cock, princess?" he growled, "Think (Y/N) deserves to watch?"

"Yes, daddy," Melaina murmured, "want her to watch. Want her to see how good I make you feel."

The green eyed monster in your head was stomping circles through your brain, screeching over the cruelty of the situation. Yet, you kept your lips pursed shut as you glared back at Tom with just as much ferocity. He wasn't going to see you break; you'd come out of this on top, you were sure of it. You weren't going to let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on it's ugly, rearing head with her words.

You scoffed, and he glared at you with a sort of intensity that made your legs quiver, but you faced his scowl head on with a ferocity of your own to match. You wouldn't let him see that she'd hit the root of your jealousy right on its ugly, rearing head with those words; if he wanted to play, then you were going to play just as hard.

Or, maybe you were just emboldened by the fact that he hadn't called her darling again. Either way, you stared him in the eye until he looked away from you with a clenched jaw and twitching hand. Your first, and only, victory of the night.

It was torture. He moaned as he pushed into her, eyes clenching shut and hands squeezing at her flesh desperately when he bottomed out with his hips buried into her bottom. Yet, you couldn't decide which method of suffering was worse; to keep your eyes opened or closed.

Open, you had to watch his face contort with pleasure and the way he interacted with her eager, willing body. Closed, you had to listen to the sounds they made and feel the way your body reacted in accordance. You were dripping onto the seat, angry tears pooling in your eyes, and your arms were going numb from their restrained position.

"Eyes open, darling." Tom ordered, and you bit back the curse that bubbled to your lips. He watched you with hooded eyes until you met his gaze, immediately blocking you out again to focus on the messy, fucked out woman on his bed. She was wailing, and you were trying your best not to join in the chorus.

He was going an an unrelenting pace, each brutish thrust of his hips eliciting a strangled cry from Melaina. She was clawing at the sheets, incrementally crawling away from him until he pulled her back with a forceful tug of her hips. "Daddy, 'm gonna cum!" she moaned, breathless.

You squirmed in your seat, bottom sliding slickly over the wooden surface from how much you'd pooled into it. "Come on, princess. Cum f'me." he urged, voice strained as he rocked his hips faster into her. The sound of skin against skin mixed with the damp sounds from his force into her slick echoed loudly through the room, but it was unparalleled to the unrestrained scream the tore from her throat.

Watching with wide eyes and strained, clenched thighs, you gasped as Melaina arched into the bed wildly. Her actions were so over the top you'd have assumed they were theatrics, if it weren't for the way you could see her physically quivering with full body shivers. Fuck, why couldn't that have been you?

Tom pulled out of her roughly, turning on you and clambering off of his bed to lean over you. His hands wrapped around the arms of the chair tightly, the muscle of his arms rippling as he gripped it so tight the wood creaked. "Learned your lesson yet, darling?" he demanded, nose to nose with you.

Nodding desperately, you gasped, "Yes, sir."

He disappeared from view, Melaina still crumpled into the bed and spent as she breathed heavily. When his fingers brushed your wrists, untying them slowly, you nearly wept with relief. Finally, he was going to touch you.

Pulling you up from the chair, Tom gripped your chin firmly as his thumb tugged at your bottom lip. "Want me to touch you, darling?" You nodded, begging him with your eyes and whining when he chuckled, "You have to earn it."

He sat back on the bed, scooting until his back was propped against the headboard with his legs spread wide. Patting the space between them, he beckoned you forward until you were perched between his knees on your own. You yelped as Melaina crept up behind you, hands sneaking up the skin of your back until they rested lightly on your shoulders, but you relaxed into her touch as she pressed a feather light kiss to your neck.

As she nipped at the skin, blossoming a new mark amidst all the ones she'd left before, Tom grinned deviously. "Let's make a deal, darling," he breathed, "if you can stop yourself from cumming all over her tongue, I'll let you come on my cock."

You squeaked as her fingers dipped down the front of your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as she drew nearer to where you were aching for any sort of touch. Deep down you knew how hard it would be not to finish at any sort of stimulation due to how worked up and ravenously needy you were, but if there was a chance to get Tom where you wanted him then you were going to take it. So, you nodded, "Please."

Melaina pushed you forward until you were bent over, propped up on your knees and elbows. Tom's length was straining against his thigh, and he flexed as your slightly frantic breathing blew across the sensitive skin. He reached out a hand to caress your cheek before winding it to the back of your head, pulling you closer until you wrapped your lips around the tip.

You groaned in sync with him as you felt her blow a cool breeze on your clit, your legs nearly buckling as she forced them apart with her hands. Stars were bursting behind your eyes the very moment she drew a line through your folds with her tongue, but Tom's shove against your head kept you grounded. Focusing, you pushed forward until your nose was buried in his pelvis and he moaned loudly.

Her taste was still all over him. Pulling back until you only held his tip in your mouth again, you swirled your tongue around the head and parted your lips to let your spit soak down his length entirely. You looked up and blinked at him coyly, flattening your tongue under his tip and sucking hard until he clenched his eyes shut and raked his nails into your scalp roughly.

Going down again, you gagged around him and tears sprung to your eyes when he held you there. He was choking you, but you weren't thinking about air--all you could think about was how hard it was not to reflexively clamp down each time Melaina tweaked your clit just right, sending spasms through your entire body.

You were fighting hard to keep from going overboard, your stomach twisted up in knots so tight you felt compressed. Explosive, even. He was moaning above you, dragging your head up and down his length slowly, and there were shockwaves of vibrations in your core as Melaina hummed along with him.

Finally, as you took all of him again and squeezed his thigh with your nails digging in, Tom hissed and pulled you off of him. "On your back, now." he commanded, and Melaina jumped back just in time for you to hastily slide into position. "Fuck, need you so bad, darling."

His hands were hot as they slid up your thighs, spreading your legs apart until he could slip between them and crawl over your body. "Needed you last night, lovie, but you decided to ignore me like a brat." he growled, and you flinched as he dropped to his elbows over you suddenly, "Don't even deserve to feel me, you know that?"

"Please," you whined, "I'm sorry I ignored you, I'll never do it again."

Tom dragged his tip roughly through your folds, scowling at you when you bucked your hips into him, "Do that again and you'll go back in the chair."

You froze, and he hummed in approval before continuing his teasing. Up and down, up and down, up and down, he dragged himself over your entrance and clit until you were shaking with need. Each slow rock of his length through your folds was adding fuel to the fire raging within you, your eyes threatening to roll back from the surface level stimulation alone.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally eased into you slowly. You moaned breathlessly, clenching around him and fisting the sheets in a plea for him to just fuck you already. "Fucking love your cunt, darling," he groaned, eyes falling shut in bliss, "perfect little pussy, all for me. This all mine, lovie?"

"Yes, sir." you groaned, arching off the bed as he pushed deeper against you, "All yours."

He pulled back, dragging slowly against your walls until he slipped out of you entirely and left you feeling empty. But then he forced his way back in roughly, jolting you backward on the bed under the force of his thrust. Your lips opened in a silent yell, hands flying up to claw at his back desperately.

Tom's face dropped into your shoulder, mouthing open kisses into the skin that burned like fire. He picked up his pace with a steady, deep roll of his hips against yours that made you shiver all over. Your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, trapping him against you as you gripped his shoulders heavily.

Your eyes were clenched shut in pleasure as you felt him continue to push roughly against that spot deep inside, sending sparks through out your entire body. The coil in your belly had already been strung so tightly you'd feared you'd burst at the first moment of contact, but you were doing your best to fight it off. You wanted this moment, this feeling of him filling you to the brim, to last forever.

But, Tom shuddered above you and moaned into your ear, "Shit, 'm not gonna last, darling."

He pushed deeper into you with his next thrust, grinding your hips into the mattress as he put his weight behind it. You yelped and your hands left his back to find his face, pulling his lips down to yours in a feverish kiss. It was sloppy, all tongue and clashing teeth, but it matched the desperate, animalistic rhythm of his hips perfectly.

That coil inside you was sparking now, fizzling with pent up energy just begging to burst. "Please, please, please, let me cum, Tom." you begged, and he groaned as you said his name, "Please, Tommy!"

With a sharp snap of his hips, Tom pushed off the bed on one elbow and reached his hand down to the apex of your thighs. His fingers met your clit harshly, swirling rapid circles around your swollen bundle as he stared down at you like a starved man. "Say my name again, darling."

"Tom!"

His fingers moved faster, harder, deeper in time with his thrusts that pushed you to heights you'd never felt from him. His eyes were clenched shut and his lips pulled back in a grimace, jaw clenching as his curls slid all over his forehead in a sweaty mess. He looked beautiful like that--all messy and fucked out, desperate to reach that high that you were pushing him toward.

Your legs were shaking wildly, and your stomach was burning as your muscles began to contract. It was the buildup to the explosive release, and you cried out, "Gonna cum, Tommy, yes! You feel so--oh, fuck!"

Wailing, you clamped your legs around his waist and squeezed your eyes shut so tightly it hurt. The coil snapped and you shrieked, his tip ramming into your g-spot over and over as he fucked you through your high. It felt like you couldn't even breathe, couldn't think, couldn't anything anymore. All you could do was feel him inside you, pushing through your pulsing walls as his fingers continued to rub your clit like a madman.

"Fucking--fuck!" he gritted, hips faltering, "Love it when you say my name, (Y/N). Sounds so perfect coming from your pretty lips."

You were desperate to get him there, feeling the way he was shuddering with each thrust as his body protested the exertion. "Tom, please," you begged, feeling the coil in your belly tightening up again, "cum for me. Wanna feel you fill me up, Tommy."

He slammed into you harder than he had all night, making your pelvis ache but you saw white. The world faded away as you burst into the crescendo again, your throat burning as you cried out loudly. Just when you were about to tap out and push him away because it was all too much, he rolled into you deeply and collapsed onto your chest.

So high in your own climax, you barely felt his cock pulsing against your walls as you milked him of every last drop. It was the warmth, though, that brought you back down to earth. The deep, warmth that filled you up had you sighing and sucking in air desperately, blinking up at the ceiling as Tom breathed heavily into your neck.

The two of you laid there like that for awhile, fighting to catch your breathe as your hearts raced against each other's chests. It wasn't until your vision finally cleared and you could breathe a little more freely, though, that a thought popped into your head, "Where did Melaina go?"

Tom laughed, his chest rumbling against yours as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder with a tender kiss to the sweaty skin. "Mm, don't know. She probably left."

"Oh," you muttered, "I didn't notice."

You hoped he didn't notice how you smiled as he hummed back, "Neither did I, darling."

Curled up in Tom's bed, you shivered as his fingers traced lazy shapes into the bare skin of your thigh that was draped over his own. On his night stand sat two abandoned cups of tea, growing colder by the minute, but neither one of you was in any hurry to reach for them. You were content to just lay there in his embrace, soaking up his warmth.

This was what you'd grown to love the most over the past few months of hooking up with Tom. The sex was great, the orgasms mind blowing, but the time spent just enjoying each other's company afterwards was your favorite part. It felt nice to just be close to him, to feel connected to him in a more domestic sense.

"You know there's nothing to be jealous of, yeah?" he asked, suddenly, and you craned your neck back to look at him curiously. His cheeks were reddened slightly as he peered down at you with tender, timid eyes.

Sheepishly, you shrugged, "It's ridiculous, I know."

He frowned slightly, but the crease between his brows melted as you blinked up at him with wide eyes. "Nothing you feel is ridiculous, (Y/N)," he stated, "and it's okay to be jealous. You think I never felt shitty seeing you with any of the other guys you filmed with?"

The flush on his face deepened at his confession, but you grinned. He felt it too? "Really?" you asked, trying your best to keep from giving him total puppy dog eyes.

"Really." he repeated you, snorting when you grinned wider, "And, you don't need to be jealous of anyone. You're the only one who ends up right here in my bed, like this. Only one I want to be here, darling."

You buried your face into his chest with a flustered giggle, and he chuckled as his arms wrapped around you a little tighter. In a desperate need to keep things from getting too serious, still raw over everything you'd felt the past couple of days, you teased, "Mm, I'm only here for the tea--Tom!"

He dug his fingers into your ribs, fighting through your squeals and slaps as you tried to escape him. Easily, though, he got the upper hand and rolled until you were pinned beneath him. With twinkling eyes, a mixture of emotions you couldn't read, he taunted, "Admit it, (Y/N), you're in love with me."

In love with Tom? Your mind went blank as you stared up at him, but he just grinned down at you. There was a little flutter in your belly, and his eyes sparkled a brighter at your shiver. He knew. He knew the truth.

"Nah, it's definitely the tea--"

"Why, I oughta!"

[paula-of-christ]

yes I'm a teenage but I fail to see how that's relevant. global warming IS real and yes private jets are adding a fuckton of carbon but it's not JUST private jets that's emitting carbon. it's fossil fuels, car exhaust, factories, etc. I thought Catholics were pro-science?

Its relevant to the wanting whiter teeth and blonde hair part, because you would, being a minor, not have access to the things that would mean you could do those things yourself, the way an adult can. Chill out. Not everything is about politics. In fact, most things at its core isn't about politics. When young adults such as myself point out someone being young, it usually isn't to say "oh you don't know anything" it's to say "oh, the reason you have an outlook on life the way you do is because you do not have the experience that I do"

I've been online for a long time. I've gone through the debating about politics phase. I've swung back and forth between conservative and moderate. I still have further to go. But the truth of the matter is, 1 year of my life has a smaller value on changing me as a person than 1 year of your life. Because you're younger. I know it's frustrating, but as you get older, you'll understand and are likely to feel the same way. And that's ok.

Global warming isn't as real as the government wants you to think. Driving a car when you live outside of a major metropolitan area, using single use plastic, and eating meat is NOT and will NEVER BE the same thing as rich people using 3-6 cars in major metro areas, using private jets to fly around the world several times a month, or multi-billion dollar conglomerates outsourcing all of their labor to the other side of the world then shipping the products back here. Literally it isnt even comparable.

"I thought Catholics were pro-science"

Science isn't just what your teacher tells you in high school. There is literally an entire world of knowledge that teachers don't teach, because schools are not made for you to learn, they are made for you to pass a test. I'm all for finding alternative ways to get energy, but it starts from the top. Nothing I do in my life or that you do in your life, will off set rich people and businesses that are bent on destroying you and the entire earth.

[t4tbruharvey]

🐙🎶🤝 bwuhawvey

HIIII I FUCKING DID IT

Five hours ago this had seemed like a good idea. Harvey had wanted to watch something scary but Bruce hadn’t wanted to watch a movie-movie, so they’d compromised with a documentary about sharks. Which was fine in theory, but about five seconds in Bruce had interrupted the unsettling cello music to say that actually, this was deliberately misleading and actually pretty insidious, and that sharks are an animal just like any other so it’s really not fair that they’re so heavily demonised especially given the number of sharks killed by humans per year compared to the number of fatal shark attacks. At which point Harvey had asked if he wanted to watch something else.

“No, I just. It’s–” Bruce sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s fine. I don’t care. It’s probably, like, factually accurate, it’s just presented in a biased way I don’t agree with. Whatever.”

And Harvey had laughed and turned up the volume and pulled his legs up under himself. The flaw in the plan wasn’t inherent to the plan itself. Bad documentary aside, they’re having fun. They’re not stoned or drunk or anything because neither of them really felt like it, but they ordered pizza after the first documentary ended and just sort of… stayed on the channel. It’s sort of background noise at this point, the various instruments and calm voices describing the islands and reefs.

It’s nice, honestly. In times like these, Harvey wishes he was someone else, someone who can just enjoy sitting in silence without feeling the need to talk or move. They’ve both had a long week, and they both needed this, it’s just–

It’s just that there’s no way he can relax with Bruce in the room. It’s just that Bruce has been perfectly still this whole time, when Harvey has kept shifting around trying to subtly get further away while they both slowly migrate towards the middle of the shitty couch. It’s just that Harvey keeps sneaking glances at Bruce and there’s no way Bruce hasn’t noticed.

Everything is conspiring against him. Worst crush since middle school – most inopportune crush, too, because it’s the first time he’s had an actual best friend since middle school – and here they are, alone in the dark in their shared room. 

It’s been worse, for sure. Harvey has seen Bruce shirtless, he’s heard Bruce bring dates back here, that sort of thing. But it’s always been fleeting, or something he can ignore. This is five hours a foot away from Bruce, and the light from the tv keeps dancing across his face that makes the blue of his eyes look invisible.

It’s honestly cruel, thinks Harvey. It’s not, not really, just him being unable to have the right reaction to anything. He can’t accept friendship without wanting to devour it, and he accepted that long ago. Being dramatic about it is the only thing keeping him grounded right now, but it’s untenable and he’s been arguing both sides in his head for hours now, so he turns his attention to the tv.

Nothing sinks in. Harvey watches a small octopus get washed back and forth as the narration slowly tunes itself out. It’s then that his exhaustion decides to kick in and bit by bit his body stops feeling tangible. He can feel where he ends, but there’s nothing actually inside him, just a big empty void where a real person should be.

The screen’s a little blurry now. Harvey shuts his eyes, tries to remind himself that he’s here, that he needs to get it together for just a bit longer because he’s not alone - and Bruce’s fingers come to rest over his own.

It’s so much of a relief that Harvey almost wants to cry. They’ve trial runned this; Bruce hates people touching him no matter how close they are, but he knows Harvey needs it to feel like he’s tethered to something. Hence the hand touch.

“Hey,” says Bruce quietly.

Harvey takes a long while to answer, but it’s time he needs to come back down into himself. “Hi.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask you…”

Bruce doesn’t finish the sentence. His hand hasn’t left Harvey’s. Oh god.

“Go on?”

“What are you–” Bruce stops for a moment and visibly makes an effort to relax. “What are you doing over winter break?”

It’s a normal question. It doesn’t mean anything. “Uh, nothing, probably? Going home?”

“Do you have to?” Bruce asks quickly, like he had the question ready before Harvey had finished talking.

Harvey thinks about it. It’s not like his dad actively wants him there, but where else would he go? He can’t just not go home, give no reason for it and spend a month fucking… wandering the streets? In a motel?

“Probably, yeah. It’s not like I have anywhere else I need to be.”

There has to be another layer to this. Surely, surely Bruce is going somewhere with this line of questioning, and he’s not just making Harvey think about it for no reason.

“Do you…” Bruce starts, then falters and tries again. “You don’t have to, obviously, I’m not going to force you to– Harvey.”

“Yes?” Harvey’s caught between wanting to laugh at Bruce, just a little, and feeling like a prey animal, and it shows in his voice, the nervous tremor of it.

“Do you want to maybe stay with me at the Manor over break?” he asks finally, looking at something that isn’t there over Harvey’s shoulder, the closest he can probably come to eye contact right now.

Holy shit. Of course Harvey wants to stay with him. He’d stay with Bruce in a shitty one bedroom apartment in Connecticut if Bruce asked.

“Like, Wayne Manor?” he asks.

“No, the other manor that I have that just never came up,” deadpans Bruce, tension abating.

“In all fairness, I wouldn’t be surprised if you did have one of those.”

“Yeah, well, I meant Wayne Manor. Where I live. All the time.”

Harvey smiles. It’s shit like this, like opening his house up with no ulterior motive, that makes Harvey feel like his whole chest is nothing but feeling. “I’d love to,” he says.

Bruce smiles, and it actually reaches his eyes, and Harvey gets the feeling that everything’s going to be alright.

[haikyuucute]

Untamable (Ushijima Wakatoshi) [Omegaverse AU]

Pairing: Alpha!Ushijima x omega!reader

Summary: You seemed like an untamable omega to Ushijima

Warnings: Sexual themes, implied smut

Word Count: 5.6k

[A/N]: So I’ve been rlly iffy about posting this bcuz I know that this au isn’t everyone’s favorite. But I rlly like this au and I have fun writing for it, so I figured if someone doesn’t like it then they can scroll past it or blacklist the tag ‘omegaverse’ anyway, so I decided to go ahead and post this

Ushijima Wakatoshi liked order and he liked things that made sense. He was a simple man and he would call it like he’d see it.

And what made sense to him was the dynamic system. Alphas were placed at the top, then betas, then omegas.

He believed this was right because it was ingrained in everyone’s genetics to follow this order.

It was why Hinata Shouyou had affected him so deeply. He was small, his volleyball technique was a mess and yet he and Karasuno beat Shiratorizawa.

Ushijima considered himself to be a very strong alpha— possibly the strongest in Shiratorizawa. His presence commanded every area he was in and omegas would fall silent at his scent, waiting for him to speak first. He had even been dubbed the alpha of alphas in school.

So it didn’t make sense for Hinata to have so much baseless confidence. It annoyed him and got under his skin to the point he thought about it quite often and how he could win next time.

Another thing that got under his skin was the little omega he shared a couple classes with— only she annoyed him far more than Hinata did.

Because while the little orange haired boy was a weak alpha, he was still just that. An alpha.

And yet, you walked around with the confidence of an alpha.

You were definitely the outcast, most omegas found you annoying and most alphas didn’t like to bother with an omega that didn’t know their place. Your scent wasn’t sweet and delicate like an omega’s either, it was tangy and citrusy (not at all a bad smell, even Ushijima would admit it was nice, just not that of an omegas). And worst of all, if you stepped out of line and an alpha tried to put you back in your place, you’d stick up your nose, turn the other way around, and continue with what you were doing in the first place.

This behavior always sat wrong with him but he never had to come into close contact with you, he’d just catch instances of this in class or in the hallways. Always hating the way you demanded to be seen.

And Ushijima knew he wasn’t in the wrong because everyone had found you strange. You didn’t even have any friends until your third year of high school when you shared your first class with the renowned Guess Monster.

Tendou, Ushijima, and you all shared a science class your third year, and though Ushijima had prior knowledge of you, it was the first time Tendou ever really noticed you.

And being dubbed a freak himself, Tendou immediately wanted to befriend you and it was only a short while after that he noticed how much you got under Ushijima’s skin.

So as a fellow freak and probably the only person other than Hinata that could get a rise out of the usually stoic alpha— well, Tendou just had to become your best friend.

Thus it began.

Tendou inviting you to work on group projects with him and Ushijima.

Tendou then inviting you to watch practices.

Tendou invited you to games.

And worst of all— Tendou invited you to hang out in his and Ushijima’s dorm.

And you quickly became someone Ushijima had to endure all day, every day.

You knew right from the beginning when you started hanging out with Tendou that the great Ushiwaka didn’t want anything to do with you. If you tried to talk to him he’d answer with four words at most or blatantly ignore you all together (then again he did that with everyone, but with you it just somehow felt different). And that was because although he was a strong alpha, he had better things to do than put an omega back in their place.

So he put up with you for days— weeks— months— until suddenly he couldn’t.

In what Tendou liked to call the “staring contest of the year” you had outwardly challenged Ushijima. But!— in your defense it was on an outrageously ridiculous subject that you believed you had the right to believe and that Ushijima should’ve respected that regardless of his own biases.

It was an argument that took place in their dorm while the two of them were there. You had casually walked in, an agitated look on your face, exclaiming:

”I hate alphas!” You yelled, pushing their door open. You ignored Ushijima who sent you a slightly irritated glance from where he was seated at his desk, reading a volleyball magazine or something, and went immediately over to the giggling Tendou.

He was up on his bed on the top bunk and you climbed the ladder, seating yourself next to where he was sprawled out, with a pout on your face.

”Should I be offended~” he laughed.

”You don’t count.”

”That’s more offensive than your last statement.”

You rolled your eyes, “Fine, you’re the exception— but alphas suck.”

He moved closer, throwing an arm around you with a large grin, “Did something happen? Do tell, (F/N)-chan~” he sang.

“Well... I may have gotten into another fight with an omega.”

”Ohoho~ did you win?”

”I guess. She pulled my hair so I punched her and... found out she has a mate.”

Tendou burst into another fit of laughter, and started poking your side, “Did you try fighting an alpha again?”

You swatted his hands away, “I just stood up for myself.”

”And how’d that go?”

”Stupid. He came up to me and did that dumb alpha thing where they stand up straighter and puff their chests out with the expectation that I’d be a cowering little omega in their presence,” you scoffed, “He told me that I shouldn’t step out of line and start fights with mated omegas, which is total bullshit because she pulled my hair first!” You yelled, falling back against his bed. “I hate alphas!”

“You punched his mate,” Ushijima who usually ignored you whenever you were over spoke up for the first time.

You furrowed your eyebrows, propping yourself up on your elbows, “Yeah, cause she pulled my hair.”

”She was wrong too.”

You scoffed, “So what? The alpha was in the right?”

”You punched his mate, he was protecting her.”

You shot up and glared at Ushijima who was still reading his magazine. ”Well I was protecting myself.” You practically hissed out.

Ushijima finally stopped what he was doing and turned around to stare up at you from where you were seated on Tendou’s bed.

Tendou’s eyes flitted back and forth between the two of you, seeing how pissed off you were, and at how Ushijima was taken aback at the tone you used with him, and Tendou’s grin slowly widened.

”You speak as if you’re an alpha,” Ushijima said, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

”I speak like an omega who’s fed up with alphas,” you spat back.

Ushijima slowly stood up and you could smell his scent had changed. It was stronger and more powerful— definitely covering up yours and some of Tendou’s scent. And you could pretty much smell how annoyed and pissed he was with you.

And as a result you felt the omega in you want to apologize and take everything back, bowing your head down, too weak to make eye contact. It was a feeling you had become quite accustomed to with how often alphas did this to you, and you became quite good at ignoring those instincts.

But Ushijima was stronger than all those alphas, and Tendou watched in awe as the most strong willed omega he’s ever met started to shrink in her seat, eyes glued to her lap.

Ushijima stood in front of you, and due to his height he was nearly eye level with you despite you sitting up on the top bunk.

“You’re careless,” He spoke lowly, as blunt as ever, “You speak the first thing that comes to mind with no regard if you offend someone, and you’re surprised when an alpha tries to put you back in your place. You’re an omega.” His voice loud and firm, “Power does not lean in your favor. Learn your place.”

You bit down on your lip hard, finding it difficult to meet his eyes but with everything you had in you, you forced yourself up straight and looked him dead in the eye.

Tendou’s eyes widened at your display but he kept quiet, glancing at how the usually stoic Ushijima looked slightly thrown off guard.

“I will never settle for being submissive,” you spoke slowly, never breaking your eye contact, “And I will never stop striving for independence. You like this power system because it’s all you’ve ever known— I’ll show you that you’re wrong and I’ll do whatever it takes.”

From there the two of you stared at each other for what felt like forever, Tendou holding his breath to see who would give in first. Until it was finally time to go to volleyball practice and Ushijima was forced to look away, making you smile triumphantly.

And so it began. The start of an overly exhausting plan that you were committed to executing.

And if Ushijima thought you were a nuisance before it was nothing compared to now.

A few days after the incident you acted as if it never happened, putting on a cheery and energetic façade. And you actually spoke to him in that same friendly manner you spoke to Tendou and others on the team.

He soon realized there would be no end to your chatter. You’d go on and on about your day, shows and movies you liked, hobbies that you were into, and you’d ask him tons and tons of questions that he’d just ignore but you wouldn’t shut up, forcing him to answer your questions— you even started calling him Waka-kun while you remained (L/N)-san.

But you didn’t care. You vowed that you’d force your way into his heart until he finally saw you as an equal instead of an overly obnoxious omega.

It took months but somehow, by some kind of miracle, Ushijima came to the conclusion... you actually weren’t that bad.

Of course you were still loud, kind of annoying, and spoke out of turn most of the time. But he guessed that some of your better qualities started sticking out the more you hung around him.

For one, you were always happy.

Happiness wasn’t an emotion Ushijima felt often, he knew the feeling of victory when he defeated a difficult opponent in volleyball but that never lasted that long because, well— Ushijima always won...(for the most part). And he knew what it felt like to be satisfied and generally content.

But the happiness you exuded. This absolutely boundless amount of energy and cheerfulness you walked around with despite being put down by practically the entire student body, it made you slightly more admirable in his eyes.

And then he saw your loyalty and devotion towards the team and specifically Tendou. By definition, Tendou was technically your best friend and you made sure to prioritize him in your life because of how grateful you were to call him a friend, this meant inviting him out places and never turning down an invitation he made. You let him talk to you when he was down and comforted and supported him appropriately. And when it came to the team, you were kind of an honorary manager (you didn’t actually have the title because the coach would never trust an omega to do the job) but you gave them water bottles and towels during practice and made sure to attend all their games and cheer for them. So even the team who had been kind of cold to you in the beginning, ended up growing rather fond of you, and you were just as happy to consider them your friends.

But he supposed what stuck out to him the most was how determined you were to be more acquainted with him. You’d ask about his day, his childhood, volleyball, anything really. And you somehow had the ability to pull more than a couple words from his mouth as time went on.

And all from the shadows, the Guess Monster was watching. Observing how a very odd friendship grew between the two of you. And although Ushijima rarely let any emotion of any kind show, after three months Tendou made an educated guess.

Ushijima Wakatoshi was actually falling for you.

From a surface level no one could really tell, but Tendou started picking up on the way Ushijima’s scent would change whenever you were near, it’d grow softer, and slightly more non threatening than his usual scent. It was a small detail but spoke volumes. Other than that, he noticed more and more how he grew comfortable around you, letting you talk his ear off and he’d answer your questions with more than three words. But what gave it away for him was when he had stepped into one of your fights where an omega started yelling at you for acting too much like an alpha. It was the first time he had ever done it and although you told him you could fight your own battles, he doubted it would be the last fight Ushijima broke up for you.

With you it was actually harder to tell if you were starting to like Ushijima back, and this was based off of all your rants he’s heard about you never wanting to mate with an alpha and that you’d much rather mate with a beta. It was hard to picture you with an alpha and even harder to picture you with an alpha as strong as Ushijima.

But he, figured out that yes— you did reciprocate those feelings when he caught a certain sight.

You went out with Tendou and Ushijima one night and stayed up late, you were absolutely exhausted so Ushijima ended up giving you a piggyback ride back to your dorm. And that’s when Tendou noticed the way you nuzzled your face into his neck. He couldn’t tell if you were trying to scent yourself or if you just found his scent soothing enough to fall asleep to— but either way there were definitely mutual feelings there.

The only problem was that the two of you were too dense to acknowledge those feelings.

So as usual Tendou decided to take it upon himself to get the two of you closer.

He came up with a fairly simple but hopefully effective plan.

Not that long ago you came to Tendou and asked if he’d been willing to give you volleyball lessons every now and then after you came to really admire the sport after watching them play for so long. And he agreed of course.

So now it was just a matter of getting Ushijima to take his place—

“I won’t be able to make our volleyball lesson (F/N)-chan,” Tendou suddenly spoke up from where he laid on the floor.

He watched as your head poked over the top bunk where you lay, a pout on your face, “What? Why not?” You whined.

”I’ll be busy this weekend, but!” He suddenly exclaimed, looking over at Ushijima, “Maybe Wakatoshi-kun could take my place.”

”No,” came Ushijima’s answer, from where he sat on his bed.

Tendou frowned at how dense he could be.

You pouted further, “Waka-kun would be mean about it if he helped me anyway.”

”Don’t be silly—“

”I’m not! I can picture it now!” You suddenly made a very serious face, mimicking Ushijima’s, “(L/N)-chan you have awful technique. (L/N)-chan you understand nothing about volleyball. (L/N)-chan you suck.”

Tendou giggled at that, seeing your point, “You’d also be getting taught by a top player in the nation~” he sang.

You paused for a moment, thinking it over, “... We’d probably get in a fight though and I hate arguing with him.”

”You hate it because you lose,” Ushijima spoke up.

”Shut up!” You yelled, moving to hang over the edge of the bed to see him.

He glanced up at your upside down form, “l’m right.”

And since he was always painfully blunt and honest, you knew he actually was right, so you settled on pouting further.

”Y’know people would kill to have someone like Wakatoshi teach them volleyball,” Tendou said, continuing to convince you, “He’s the best of the best, don’t you want to be the best~”

”I’m not that passionate about volleyball,” you deadpanned.

He faltered, until a thought struck him, and he grinned, “Remember that time you tagged along with the team to the beach and we were short one person for volleyball and asked you to play?”

You glared darkly at him for reminding you about that humiliating incident— they were a powerhouse school after all, why the hell would they ask you to play when you had barely any experience. “Yes,” you muttered.

”Well what if Wakatoshi-kun taught you a few of his tricks and you got to show off next time we play together.”

He knew he had you when your eyes widened in realization.

You looked back down at Ushijima from where you hung upside down, “Waka-kun teach me volleyball.”

”No,” he replied, looking down at his homework.

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

”Please.”

”No.”

“Ugh— why notttt,” you whined.

”Because you don’t play volleyball.”

”Well I want to show off to the team the next time you guys force me to play.”

”You still wouldn’t be as good as them.”

You frowned, “I already know that, but you don’t always have to say the truth.”

Ushijima couldn’t help himself when he looked back up at you, something in your tone bothering him. And the pout and look in your eyes really bothered him for some reason. But he didn’t like being the cause of it and he really wanted to see it leave your face.

“Fine,” he gave in. He watched as your face instantly lit up, a smile gracing your features and it admittedly made him feel weirder than when you were upset.

You flipped off the top bunk to Ushijima’s bed and threw your arms around his shoulders in a hug, “Thank you Waka-kun~” you sang.

And Tendou grinned from ear to ear, watching as Ushijima’s face tinted the lightest of pinks.

——

“You’re late,” Ushijima grunted as he watched you burst through the gym doors, trying to catch your breath.

”I know!” You panted, “I got held up by a teacher.” You said, throwing your bag to the ground. You made your way over to Ushijima who was previously practicing by himself as he waited. “Now, you can’t be mean remember, this is just for fun. It’s not like I’m gonna be using this in any actual tournaments, this is just to shut the team up the next time they make fun of me for sucking at volleyball.”

He nodded and the two of you started.

You quickly figured out that playing volleyball with Ushijima was very different than when you’d play with Tendou. Tendou was always goofing around and joking with you but with Ushijima he was unsurprisingly very serious, so it was up to you to lighten the mood. But you had to admit he was a pretty good teacher and kept the rude comments to a minimum, which was a feat on its own because he very rarely censored himself and you knew you weren’t doing to well.

It was well into the hour when shit finally hit the fan.

Ushijima asked you to toss him the ball to demonstrate him hitting a spike. So you did and as usual because of his strong spikes, the ball ended up rolling off, landing by your bag on the other side of the gym.

You offered to go get it, and in hindsight you really wished you did. But Ushijima said it was fine and went off to grab the ball.

When he went to pick it up, he noticed the zipper of your bag was opened and something inside caught his eye. He glanced back at you to see you looking down at your phone, before he brought his attention back to the object and pulled it out. His eyebrows furrowed.

It was a pill bottle and the label told him they were heat suppressants. But that wasn’t what caught his eye.

The date said they were prescribed about a month ago and the bottle was already three quarters gone.

He stood up straight and turned, “What are these?” He called out to you, making you look up.

You furrowed your eyebrows, “Idiot, are you going through my bag? Put those back and get back over here.” You rolled your eyes.

He only listened to half of what you said as he held the bottle and walked back, “(L/N)-chan, what is this?”

You looked at him confusedly, “They’re heat suppressants or did you forget that I’m an omega and go through heats?”

”More than half of them are gone.”

You faltered, realizing he checked the date on them. But you played it cool and shrugged, “So?”

”It’s dangerous to have that many suppressants in a month.”

You rolled your eyes, “What? Are you suddenly an omega now? They’re my pills, I can use them how I want.”

You could see Ushijima getting frustrated now, “The side effects of this many can be harmful to your body.”

”I’m fine— I’m more than fine. I haven’t had to go through a heat in a while and I’ve been functioning just the same, only it’s better now because I don’t have to deal with heats.”

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What do you mean by ‘a while’?” He asked worried to hear just how long you were putting your body through this. Suppressants were meant to make heats easier, not stop them all together.

“Nothing, it really doesn’t matter,” you said in an attempt to brush it off.

”How long (L/N)-chan?”

You clenched your jaw, looking down at the ground, not answering.

”How long,” his voice became darker and firmer.

You hated it but when he used that tone, you found it difficult to deny, “A....a year.” You muttered.

Ushijima’s eyes widened in shock and horror, and it was probably the most emotion you’ve ever seen from him, “You missed four heats?”

”Well.... yeah.”

”You can’t do that to your body—“

”Why not?” You snapped, looking up at him, “It’s my body isn’t it? And my heats are my business. I’ve been completely fine up till now anyway.”

”What about your next heat? You have to have one eventually and if you’ve missed four, your next heat will be unbearable.”

”That’s only for some people,” you scoffed, “I could be completely fine.”

”And if you’re not? You don’t have a mate.”

”Why do you even care!” You huffed.

”Because—“ you’re my omega.

Ushijima completely stopped as the thought popped in his head. He was caught so off guard by that he forgot his argument.

But he did his best to compose himself before stating, “I’m keeping these.”

You scowled, “Like hell you are!” You yelled before leaping for the pill bottle, but he just held it over his head and out of your reach. You grabbed his arm and tried to pull it down but he would barely budge, “Ushijima this isn’t funny!” You yelled out in anger and slight panic.

He ignored the slight sting he felt at hearing his last name, but he didn’t give in, “This is for your own good.”

”Fuck my own good! I need those pills— I can’t go through another heat!”

”You’re an omega,” he snapped, “You can’t keep pretending you’re an alpha. Heats are necessary, learn your place already.”

And there were those words you absolutely despised, ‘learn your place’.

You blinked back the frustrated tears, “I’m leaving,” you scoffed. And with that you quickly ran out, grabbing your bag and leaving a very pissed off alpha behind you.

—

Tendou had no idea how things could get so screwed up the one time he got you two alone together.

You ended up avoiding Ushijima at all costs and Ushijima being who he was was definitely not going to approach you first when he believed he was right.

But Tendou could only handle so much of this stupid fight before trying to convince the two of you to make up.

But you said you’d only forgive him if he gave you your pills back and Ushijima said he wasn’t going to. So when Tendou got you to swear to Ushijima that you’d use them properly was he then able to sway Ushijima into giving them back.

So he did and you forgave him.

Of course there was still some resentment and animosity about the whole thing, but after a couple weeks things were back to normal more or less.

That was until that inevitable day approached.

You hadn’t come to class which wasn’t unusual because you liked to skip every once in a while, so Ushijima and Tendou didn’t think much of it at first.

That was until they overheard a conversation between two omegas not too far from them.

”The entire history hallway literally smells like omega.” The one girl complained.

”Really?” Her friend asked, “What happened.”

She shrugged, “Dunno. I think some omega went into heat, but my god is it strong. I think they locked themselves in a supply closet, there’s a group of as alphas just outside the door.”

”I feel kinda bad. We should tell someone to go help them. Do we know who the omega is?”

”Everyone’s pretty sure it’s (L/N) since the scent is pretty citrusy. Her roommate also told me she takes suppressants like they’re candy so it makes sense.”

Suddenly Ushijima had stood up. Tendou looked up at the alpha with a questioning gaze, but as he watched him just head straight for the door, a grin grew on his face as he knew where this was headed.

—

You were a mess as you hid away inside the supply closet. The heat had randomly hit you out of no where without a single warning. The most you were able to do was quickly lock yourself in the closet. And now you were left trembling in a curled up ball in the corner of the room.

You were hot everywhere and covered in a layer of sweat. Your chest rose and fell in breathy pants and the uncomfortable pool of wetness in your panties was getting really distracting.

And on top of all that, there was a group of alphas just outside calling out to you. You couldn’t make out what they were saying because of how overwhelmed you felt but their scents were definitely accelerating the heat.

And dread filled you at the thought of Ushijima being right. All four heats that you missed just hit you all at once.

This was the most helpless you’ve ever felt.

...Then you smelled it.

A scent far more overpowering than the alphas scents combined. And a scent you knew all to well. Heavy and woody— a scent that made your head spin and squeeze your legs together as a broken whimper left your throat.

The others had scattered in fear, soon leaving you alone with Ushijima Wakatoshi’s scent.

Ushijima walked in, easily breaking the lock. His gaze was intense as usual but there was also something else in his eyes as he found you curled up on the ground of the supply closet, in heat.

And even in the presence of an omega in a heat extreme as yours, Ushijima showed an incredible display over his instincts as he barely seemed bothered by it. The only thing that gave him away was how his breathing slowed, taking in deeper breaths as what was probably the prettiest and most mouth watering scent he ever smelled flooded his senses.

His presence commanded the area and the air reeked of his scent, and as tough as you were, even you fell weak to the presence of an alpha while in heat— and the so called alpha of alphas no less.

Your legs were squeezed tight as you buried your face in your knees, covering your nose from his scent.

”(L/N),” he said, voice deep and a touch of anger in it.

You whimpered, trying to fight back the tears that threatened to fall.

”Waka-kun,” your voice came out weak, broken, and muffled, it had even made Ushijima falter for a second, uneasy seeing you act so helpless. “I-I can’t— I can’t do this,” you shook your head, the tears running down your face now. “I-it’s barely even started and— and th-this feels worse than m-my worst heat.” You sniffled, body trembling and shaking now.

”I told you not to take those suppressants.”

A broken moan came out after hearing his rumbling voice and you squeezed your legs tighter— how embarrassing.

In truth, Ushijima greatly disliked seeing you like this, especially after developing such a fondness over the tough and fiery omega that used to drive him mad (and still does from time to time.) But there was still something he greatly enjoyed with seeing how submissive you were being in front of him— as long as he was the only one that got to see you like this. So what you said next, sparked something in him.

”D...do y-you know an a-alpha that... can help?” Your words were broken up with sobs and stifled moans.

And a strong sense of possessiveness washed over him at the thought of another alpha possibly aiding you through this heat.

”That won’t be necessary,” he spoke curtly, “Stand up,” he said, walking forward.

You clamped your hand tighter over your nose, suffocating on his scent, and you shook your head furiously, “I-I don’t know if I c-can—“

”Stand,” and there was no arguing with the Alpha tone in his voice, your body wouldn’t let you.

So on trembling knees you shakily stood up, holding your breath as you used the wall for support as you leaned against it.

Something wild was overtaking Ushijima’s senses at seeing how fragile and delicate you looked, and he stalked forward, eyes heavy with an intense gaze on you.

And he was now in front of you as you stared down at the ground, waiting for what he’d do next as you tried your best to stay composed by attempting to ignore his presence.

Suddenly, he raised his hand to cup your jaw, his other hand gripping your wrist to pull it away from your nose. And the absolute predatorial look in his eyes would’ve knocked you to your knees if the wall wasn’t there to support you.

He stroked your cheek with his thumb, wiping a tear away. “From tonight onwards you’re mine.” He growled before lifting your jaw up further.

You moaned at that and quickly nodded, “I-I’m yours.”

”I don’t care if you always want to fight back as long as you understand that right now, I’m in charge.” He said as his thumb traced your bottom lip before tugging down on it. And the second after you nodded, he crashed his lips against yours in a bruising kiss.

Your resolve immediately crumbled and you easily melted into the kiss, collapsing into him. A cry left your lips which was promptly swallowed by Ushijima. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly as you tried rutting against his thigh. But he quickly grabbed ahold of your hips, stilling you.

You whined into his mouth, “Please Waka-kun.”

”Patience,” he commanded, making you quickly shut your mouth. “I’m going to take care of you,” and with that he picked you up.

He walked with you in his arms through the deserted hallway, making his way towards the dormitories, specifically his.

And as he walked through the school building, classes having been just let out, he ignored the stares and stunned silence from his peers as they gawked at the sight of the Alpha of Shiratorizawa Academy walking with the little annoying omega of the school in his arms, who was clearly in heat.

But right now all that was on his mind was getting you back to his dorm safely so he could spend the next how ever many days fucking you until all you could possibly remember was his name.

Ushijima unlocked his dorm door, seeing an already grinning Tendou sitting upon his bed, “Well didn’t this work out nicely?” He teased.

”Tendou I need the—“

He raised his hands in surrender, “I know, I know,” he said getting up, his eyes landing on you for a second, “Definitely a sight I never thought I’d see,” he mused at seeing you so submissive in Ushijima’s arms, before practically singing, “Have fun~” on his way out.

Ushijima kicked the door shut before walking over to his bed and dropping you on it. You were sprawled out on your back, absolutely breathless.

His own breathing was beginning to become more and more labored as your heat was pushing him into a rut.

”You’re going to behave?” He asked.

You nodded, a mewl escaping your lips as you rubbed your thighs together.

”Use your words.”

”Y-yes alpha,” you managed to get out, a glint reaching his eye at the title.

”Good. Now....bare your neck.”

You scrambled to do as he said, and a slight smirk grazed his lips at the sight, a sense of pride, similar to when he won tournaments, washed over him.

You kneeled up on your knees, titling your head to the side for him.

He smiled, cupping the side of your face, before leaning down to mark you.

So yes, Ushijima would put up with your fiery attitude and need to go against everything everyone tells you to do, as long as he’d be the one to get to see you like this.

Because for the first time since he’s known you.

You were finally listening.

[wolferine]

Forgiven

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Summary: One-shot sequel to my “Unforgivable” series. After being paralyzed in an accident, Natasha reunites with her lover who caused the accident in the first place.

Warnings: Mentions of torture, language

Word count: 2300

Tags: @yeetus-thyself @phoenixofash @yeeterthekeeper @alessiapn @diaryoflife @norwaynatasharomanoff @lovelyy-moonlight @nightingalxx @supersourlemon13

AN: This one’s for you, @allhailthelesbian! :)

You do not have to read the previous story to follow this one!

Something shifts in your arms and you instinctively tighten them, feeling a tickle of hair across your nose.

“Y/N,” Natasha whispers, “You squeeze me any harder and I’m gonna choke to death.”

“Huh?” You loosen your arms and open your eyes, finding your red-haired, green-eyed beauty staring back at you.

“Good morning,” she says.

“Good morning.” You close your eyes again and press your foreheads together.

“Ready for a workout?” she asks.

You chuckle. “It’s been a while since I’ve done one of those.”

She traces her finger over your bicep. While you’ve lost some weight in the past few months, you’ve still got some wiry strength, but you know you have some catching up to do. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell,” she says. “But my legs don’t even work and I’m not using that as an excuse.”

“Okay, okay,” you sigh. “Five more minutes?”

“Fine. Only because I need your help getting to the bathroom, anyway.”

“Oh.” Your eyes fly back open. Although Natasha’s been living with her condition for more than six months, it’s still your first week back with her and sometimes you forget her needs are different than before you left. “I can just get up now—” you start.

“It’s fine,” she says, pushing you back onto the bed as you try to sit up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. Ask me again in five minutes.” She snuggles closer to you and her breath is hot against your collarbone. You close your eyes again and feel her touch the starburst of a scar on your cheek from where her bullet had struck your face.

“I’m sorry for hurting you,” she whispered.

“Hmm?”

“When I fired my gun, I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” she says. “I just wanted to distract you. But then my bullet bounced off the pole and hit you in the face.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, knowing you’ve done far worse to her. A minor blemish was nothing compared to losing control of your legs.

Ten minutes later, Natasha announces she needs to use the bathroom. You sit up without being told twice and pick her up bridal-style, carrying her into the bathroom. Tony had made some modifications, such as adding handlebars near the toilet and inside the shower and lowering the medicine cabinet for easier access.

“Can you bring my wheelchair in? So you don’t have to keep carrying me back and forth,” Natasha asks as you help situate her on the toilet.

“I don’t mind,” you say.

“But I do,” she says.

Without argument, you move her wheelchair from the bedroom to the bathroom. “Holler if you need me,” you say, closing the door and going to change into a tank top and shorts. When you’re done, you hear water running in the sink and can’t help asking, “Everything okay in there?”

“Uh-huh! Jus’ brushin’ my teef!”

“Okay! Take your time.” You don’t want to be overbearing but you want to be ready to help when she needs it. Tony had talked to you about how independent she was; she insisted on learning how to do everything for herself, not liking the help of caregivers or nurses. 

Obviously, she was more comfortable asking you for help than a stranger, but you knew her well enough to know that she hated showing any signs of vulnerability, even if she really needed help.

Natasha rolls out of the bathroom and you trade spots with her, using the toilet and brushing your teeth. When you come out, she’s by the closet with her back towards you. She has on a workout shirt and struggles to pull a pair of shorts up her legs.

“Do you need some help?” you ask. Tony had told you to always ask first instead of jumping right in.

“Yes, please.” Natasha sighs. The shorts are hooked around her feet. “It’s…It’s a little hard for me to reach sometimes.”

“That’s okay.” You kneel and shimmy the shorts over her knees. 

“Can you pick me up so I can pull them on?” she asks.

“Sure.” You wrap your arms under hers and gently lift her high enough for her to pull the shorts up to her hips.

“Thanks.” You set her back down and help her put her shoes on. “All ready?”

“Let’s go.”

You go down to the Avengers’ state-of-the-art gym, containing every single piece of workout equipment you’re humanly aware of. There are weights up to the ton and a 12-foot deep Olympic-sized swimming pool.

“What did you have in mind today?” you ask as you walk next Natasha. She rolls suspiciously close to the swimming pool and you wish you could squeeze yourself on the other side of her to make sure she doesn’t fall in.

“Leg day,” she says.

“Huh?”

“Kidding!” Natasha laughs when suddenly, her wheelchair catches on the end of a loose pool noodle someone had left out and she launches from her wheelchair into the pool. If the situation hadn’t been so serious, you would’ve cried from laughter, but instead your heart drops to your feet and you jump into action—literally.

“Nat!” you scream, diving in headfirst. Underwater, you open your eyes, letting the chlorine burn into them, and see the blurry shape of Natasha bobbing up to the surface. You swim towards her and when lift your head to take a breath, you find her howling in laughter.

“What are you laughing at?” you ask, coughing up a mouthful of water.

“I’ve been swimming every day since the accident, babe,” she says, doing a much better job of treading water than you. And she doesn’t even have use of her legs. “I’m not going to drown.”

“Well, I might.” Your head dips under and you swallow a mouthful of water. Natasha wraps her hand around your arm and yanks you up.

“Seriously?” she asks.

“Haven’t…swam…in a while,” you choke.

“So, you thought you could jump in and save me when you can barely save yourself?” Natasha shakes her head, but admires your blinding love for her. She drags you over to the wall and grabs the pool noodle. “Use this.” 

You bend the noodle under your arms, grateful for the moment of rest.

“Okay, let’s go do a few laps now!” She paddles away before you can protest. Grudgingly, you kick after her.

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

An hour later, you’re so exhausted you can barely walk and you’re tempted to ask Natasha if she’ll let you sit on her lap while you go back up to your room.

“Shower together?” Natasha asks, and there’s a hint of shyness in her voice.

“Sure.” You’ve already seen there’s plenty of room for the both of you. First, you get Natasha settled into her shower chair before you turn around and take your dripping workout clothes off.

It’s the first time she’s seen you naked since you left. Her eyes trace over the visible bones of your ribs and the scars crisscrossing your back. There’s a burn in the shape of a triangle on the back of your left shoulder, where Hammer had tried to brand you with his logo. Because he didn’t see you as a person, but his property.

Natasha knows that although she’s had a difficult past six months, you had been in your own hell.

You turn towards her and see the sadness in her eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

She doesn’t say anything and offers her hand, pulling you into the shower. You turn on the water, removing the showerhead from the wall to spray over the both of you. There is nothing sexual in any of your actions as you help each other shampoo your hairs and wash your bodies. However, the closeness is still intimate and comforting.

Afterwards, you both dry off and get dressed, going into the kitchen for breakfast. Falling back into a routine with your girlfriend—even after six months—is the easiest thing you ever did. But even though it’s almost like you never left, things aren’t exactly the same, and you want to make up for the lost time as much as you can.

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

When lunchtime rolls around, Natasha suggests taking you to your favorite diner. You haven’t driven a car in six months, so you’re a little nervous when you go down to the garage, until Natasha insists that she’ll drive instead. She takes you over to her black Corvette Stingray, which never fails to make you whistle.

You help her into the driver’s seat, noticing the specialized hand control Tony installed so she could work the pedals with a hand lever. You make a mental note to thank him again for being so generous in caring for your girlfriend in your absence. When you sit in the passenger seat, it feels just like old times.

“Don’t crash,” you tease.

“Oh, please,” Natasha scoffs. “I can’t even use my legs and I’m still a better driver than you.” 

“Ouch.”

You watch as she expertly maneuvers the steering wheel with her left hand while her right hand pushes and pulls on the handle for the brake and gas pedal.

“You look so badass,” you say.

She looks at you and smiles. “I know.”

“I think I’ll just have you drive me around from now on.” You close your eyes and relax in the seat.

When you arrive at the diner’s parking lot, Natasha skips over the blue handicapped stalls and parks across from them.

“You don’t want to park there?” you ask, pointing to an empty blue stall.

She shakes her head. “Maybe someone else needs it more than me,” she says. “After all, they don’t have you to carry them around.” She tries to make a joke out of it, but you can tell she’s a little embarrassed. It’s also the reason she’s so hesitant to drive her Corvette around: most people who see it assume she’s a jackass trying to take advantage of a handicapped spot.

She’s had people scratch her doors and leave ugly notes on the windshield. One time, before she even had the chance to get out of the car, a group of people had gathered at her door to cuss her out. Their red faces of embarrassment and stuttered apologies when Tony helped her into her wheelchair was something she would never forget.

You get her wheelchair out of the trunk and set it next to her door, helping her into it. Inside the restaurant, the waitress removes one of the chairs at your table so Natasha can sit next to you. You don’t even bother looking at the menu, knowing exactly what you want.

You end up finishing all of your food and Natasha’s leftovers, and she can only laugh at your appetite.

“Hammer didn’t you feed you enough?” she teases.

“I’m pretty sure the stuff he gave me can’t even be counted as food,” you respond.

“Before we go home, I want to take you somewhere special,” she says as you leave the restaurant. “I visit it once a week.”

“Let’s do it.”

She drives you to a high school. But since it’s the weekend, the parking lot is empty except for a few cars. Natasha takes you inside. As you go down the hall with her, she grabs onto your hand.

“You don’t need both hands to roll?” you joke.

“I just like being close to you,” she says. Her wheelchair is at the perfect height that you don’t have to strain your shoulder lower to hold her hand. She directs you into a classroom, and when you step inside, you see some people already there. 

They’re all in wheelchairs.

You suddenly feel angry at Natasha for bringing you here. Was she trying to make you feel even more guilty for what you had done to her? These people were all going through their own pain, and here you were having caused that exact same pain to your own lover.

“Hey, everyone,” Natasha says with a confidence in her voice you haven’t heard yet. “This is my partner I’ve told you all about, Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N!” they chorus. You cringe, wondering how much of yourself Natasha told them. Some of them are like her, paralyzed from the waist down, while others move their wheelchairs around by blowing into tubes or pressing a remote hanging from their necks.

You move out to the hallway and Natasha follows you.

“Why did you bring me here?” you whisper, your stomach churning. You feel like you’ve intruded on something private, something you don’t have the right to be a part of. “What were you thinking—” 

“Please stay,” she begs. “They’re all my friends, and some of them bring their partners along, too. It’s not an exclusive club or anything. We tell stories and learn how to get through things together.

“My condition changed everything for me, but it’s also a change for you. I want to make sure you get the support you need. Because there’s not just two of us in this relationship anymore,” she continues, and you raise your eyebrow. “It’s me, you, and my condition.

“I don’t want you to feel like I’m your burden or you’re my caregiver. I’m still the same as I always was. I can’t do everything myself and I might need your help. It’s just a different kind of help than before.”

You kneel and cup her face. “I love you, Nat. I’ll be here for you, whenever and whatever you need,” you promise.

She leans forward to kiss you. “I know.”

And with that kiss, you feel her forgiveness wash over you, cleansing you of the guilt and trauma of what you did. She had already forgiven you, a long time ago. You couldn’t continue to be so hard on yourself if you wanted the relationship to work. 

You know it won’t be an easy journey, and it’s only the beginning, but with Natasha by your side again, you feel completely unstoppable.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

AN: I was definitely nervous writing this as I have little experience working with people with paralysis, so I did some research and hope I did it justice! If there’s anything out of place, please let me know. :)

Join my taglist for future stories here! Thanks for reading, and until next time…

[saturngrqy]

Concept of Grayson where him and the reader get into a big argument and Ethan and kris have to literally put you in separate rooms to cool off because you’re so angry

this hoe is long as fu-

Your head was beginning to pound from all the yelling and the pressure of your hands rubbing against your forehead.

"I'm just wondering why you would even fucking tell them that," Grayson spoke, trying to lower his naturally loud voice, never wanting to scare you.

"Tell them what? I don't understand what I did wrong here," you defend, confused.

"You told fucking hollywood fix that we had a date at Nobu on Friday. Now they are gonna have people there taking pictures and I don't want them to take pictures of us when I'm trying to have a nice fucking dinner with my girlfriend," he scoffs, resting his elbows on the counter and hiding his face in his hands with frustration.

Everyone knows how annoying paparazzi can be, but hollywood fix was another level. He is known for asking people way too personal questions in way too personal places. To say Grayson was upset when he found a video clip of you coming out of a store with your friend, explaining all the details of your date planned that week, is an understatement.

"Well I didn't realize that was an issue, I don't know how to deal with paparazzi," you say quietly, suddenly feeling quite small compared to the large man screaming at you. You never responded well to people yelling.

"That's the thing Y/n," he begins, "you don't understand that being in the public eye is a lot more dangerous than you think. I get you aren't used to being seen and everything, but you can at least use your god damn brain," he spat.

You scoffed in disbelief. "Oh I need to use my brain? Last weekend you literally deleted my entire essay for school off my computer on 'accident'," you accuse in air quotes. "What the fuck were you even doing? Looking at porn?" You laugh wickedly.

You both continued to bicker back and forth for around 10 minutes about seemingly nothing. First it was how Grayson forgot to do the laundry, to you forgetting to feed Sledge one afternoon, to even Grayson forgetting to pick you up from an appointment months ago.

Keep in mind, its almost 11 o'clock at night.

Ethan and Kristina did not enjoy having to stuff their heads into a pillow to drown out the screams. Finally taking charge, they walk out of the master bedroom, down to the kitchen, to find the couple red-faced and pointing fingers at one- another.

"Woah, ok, what the fuck is going on," Ethan interrupts, pulling Kristina into his side.

"Y/n literally told hollywood fix about our fucking date at fucking Nobu and now we won't be able to go," he spits, out of breath. Ethan squints his eyebrow.

"Why won't you be able to go?" He asked.

"Because, asswipe, paparazzi are gonna follow us," he sighs. Ethan didn't take offense to the nickname, he knew that Grayson was just in a mood.

Kristina, however, was too focused on your appearance- you looked absolutely exhausted. Your eyes were bloodshot from crying, your eye bags were heavy, and your shoulders were so slumped from stress she thought you had back issues.

"How about we all just calm down and take a breather," Kristina's calm voice interjects. "It's clear you guys are both really upset, so how about you take a break for a second, or sleep in different rooms, I don't know, but you guys both need some space for a bit," she finishes.

For the first time that evening, Y/n took a breath of relief. She was so thankful that she wasn't the only girl in the house at times like these. Without anyone saying a word, Kris grabs Y/n's shaking palm and leads her to the podcast room. Ethan ends up patting Grayson on the back, gesturing him to sit on the couch so they can talk.

Kristina shut the door, enveloping the room in a silence that was a little too refreshing. You both sit in the upholstered gray chairs, her being the first to speak.

"Are you ok? You looked really shaken up," she softly whispers, grabbing your hand. You sniffle.

"I'm fine, I think, I just get really bad anxiety when people yell at me. It makes me feel like I did something wrong, which I guess I did," you murmur, looking down at your lap.

She squeezes your palm. "You did nothing wrong, Gray just likes his privacy, that's all. If he's mad at you, just think about how pissed he is at Mr. Fix," she begins, giggling. "And Grayson often projects his anger onto people he doesn't mean to. He probably just had a bad day, trust me. He loves you so much, he would never purposely make you feel like this." She finishes, enclosing you into a tight hug. You stay like that until a small knock interrupts you two, and a nervous Grayson walks in. He nods at Kristina, and she walks out, giving you a small smile of encouragement.

He replaces her seat, but instead picks you up in his arms and places you right on top of his lap.

"I'm really sorry for yelling, pretty girl. I know that makes you upset and I wasn't really thinking straight. We can reschedule the dinner or whatever you want to do, but I promise I'm not mad at you," He finishes, placing a firm kiss on her temple.

"You aren't?" She questions, barely above a whisper.

"Absolutely not. I need to be more understanding that you are trying to get accustomed to my living, and I am so proud of how well you are able to handle yourself online. I just get worried, and when I see Fletcher trying to talk to you it makes me panic. I don't want you to get overwhelmed. I know he's pretty intense, and I should be more aware of how you feel in those situations." He squeezes you, once again kissing you, this time on the cheek, close to the bridge of your nose. You giggle from the ticklish feeling.

"And for the record, I was not looking at porn, I got all I need right here," he declares. You laugh, your cheeks increasingly reddening.

"There's that smile," he gushes. "I love you so so much, sweetheart, and I don't want you to ever think any different."

And that night he definitely made it up to her- so much so that Ethan and Kristina once again had to reach for the pillows.

[amyscascadingtabs]

give you my wild, give you a child

"stupid numbers, think they’re so great. i'd love to see numbers give you a baby."

inspired by that one line in 8x08 renewal, because he really did give her a baby.

read on ao3

It's been three days and Amy can't stop crying.

 Sometimes she thinks it's stopped, that she'll finally have a stable moment to talk to her husband or eat a meal in peace or facetime some of the twenty or so relatives on her list, but it feels like it’s never more than minutes before her emotions swim to surface again and something new brings out the vibrating sobs that have seemed to characterize this day. As it turns out, even newly pregnant Amy has got nothing on three days postpartum Amy.

 That she cries about the big, life-changing things doesn’t surprise her. When she wakes up after a night of minimal sleep and sees Mac in the bedside crib next to her, she cries because she’s so grateful; that everything went well, that their baby is finally here and that he's perfect beyond words. Then she cries because she thinks about what could have happened if it hadn't gone well, because she gave birth in a makeshift birthing suite in a police precinct, and so many things could have gone wrong it’s a miracle nothing did. When she gets out of the shower, she cries seeing herself in the bathroom mirror, because she's proud of her body in a way she's never experienced before. Then she cries because she also barely recognizes the person staring back at her, still looking six months pregnant except with hospital underwear and nursing pads in her bra. When she has breakfast after feeding Mac and tries to read the newspaper, she cries because so many terrible things are happening in the world all the time, and she doesn’t know how she’s going to protect this child from a world that sometimes seems to be getting more and more cruel by the day. Then she cries out of guilt for feeling that way, because she’s supposed to be enjoying this baby bubble, and what kind of mother even is she for daring to think about anything but her baby right now?

  As the day goes on, however, her reasons for crying begin to feel increasingly ridiculous. She cries because she’s so relieved to be drinking regular coffee again, then because it doesn’t taste the same as decaf and she’s gotten so used to it that the caffeine tastes weird now. She cries because the coffee goes cold anyway when Mac begins to whimper and suck on his fingers in the way he seems to do whenever he’s hungry and she has to drop everything to feed him another time. She cries when Jake turns on the television and a commercial for diapers comes on, because she can’t believe they get to buy them now. Then she cries when Mac has finished eating because the red flannel she borrowed slash stole from Jake won’t button properly, and she realizes one of the buttons has gone in the wrong hole and she has to redo the whole thing. When Jake offers to help her with it, that makes her cry too, because the way he’s not laughing at her right now but patiently trying to solve her problems is making her feel so loved she doesn't know how to thank him.

  The thing that makes her cry most of all, though, is watching Jake and Mac together. She always knew that sight would drive her crazy, and it’s part of the reason she wanted to have kids with him so much in the first place, but not even in her most indulgent fantasies about their future could she have pictured this. As grateful as she is over the fact that she gets to be a mom, getting to see Jake be a dad is a close second. He loves their son so much, and Mac so clearly loves him too, and Amy has to remind herself of the nine months she's spent carrying this child by herself in order not to feel jealous when Mac stops fussing the moment Jake picks him up. He looks so tiny when Jake holds him, the back of his head fitting perfectly in Jake's palm, and the care with which he’s handling him keeps making her emotional. He's always talking to him, sometimes whispers she can't hear and sometimes praise for her which she can, and that makes her cry too. He even chats to him when he changes his diapers, which Amy hides behind the door frame just so she can hear, failing to stifle a giggle when he asks in a fake interrogation voice what Mac has to say to his defense for making such a mess. He wakes up with her in the middle of the night when she has to breastfeed to get her endless glasses of water and granola bars when it makes her feel starving, and then he lets Mac burp him in the face and spit up on the back of his shirt before he falls back asleep curled up on his chest. He leans his chin on the top of Mac’s head to smell that perfect baby scent, running his finger over those cute neck rolls, and the smile on his face when he looks back at Amy makes her completely lose it, because this is what she dreamed of all along.

  This is what she imagined when they visited her brother Christian’s new baby shortly before they got married and Jake spent the better part of an hour making funny faces to the child in his arms. This is what she panicked over when he said he wasn't sure if he wanted kids, because she had always thought. This is what she thought of those nights after another timed round of unenthusiastic sex, trying to keep the hope alight until that single line would once more tell them not this time. She had felt it in his teary smile when she showed him that first positive test, in how hard he'd squeezed her hand at their first ultrasound when their baby’s heartbeat had filled the room, in the absolute joy on his face the first time he’d managed to put his hand on her stomach just in time to feel their son kick, and now it's right in front of her and almost too much for her heart to take.

 She's so tired, and she's sore and overwhelmed and worried about a billion different things, but she's never felt so grateful.

 That's what makes her cry floods at three a.m. when Mac seems to have finished eating and she comes back from the bathroom to find Jake still sitting up with him in bed, holding him with a hypnotised look on his face. He doesn’t even seem tired, even though he must be, is just looking at his son like he’s holding the entire world in his arms and doesn’t ever want to let go. She always knew seeing him with a baby would be incredible, those surprisingly toned biceps curling around a fragile little human and those heart eyes focused on one thing only, but maybe she hadn’t expected not being able to watch it without breaking into tears.

 “Jeez, Ames,” he says when he looks up, the expression on his face changing to one of concern. “Are you okay? Honestly?”

“Yeah,” she sniffles and dries her eyes again as she sits down on the bed. The skin on her cheeks is stinging at this point. “I just can’t believe this is my life.”

“Why not?” Mac’s pacifier glides out of his mouth, and Jake puts it back with two fingers before he can notice anything. “We’re right here, babe. We’re very much real.”

“Sometimes I thought it was never going to happen.” She hiccups. “All the times we’ve been apart. The months we fought to have him. How freaking long and exhausting being pregnant was. And now I have him, and you, and I’m just so grateful I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“That’s why you’re crying?”

“I think I don’t even know why I’m crying anymore. I’m so sleep-deprived.”

“Yeah.” Jake smirks. “But I get it. I’m really, really grateful too.”

 Mac makes a short gurgling sound that Amy takes to mean he agrees. She reaches out so his hand can wrap around her ring finger, feeling him squeezing it tight in the cutest grip. The grey striped pajamas has little mittens on it to keep him from scratching herself, but Mac gets upset whenever they pull them down, so Amy figures they'll just have to keep filing his nails instead. Their son is already both opinionated and stubborn, and she loves it about him, because she loves everything about who he is. He's perfect, and he's hers, and she still can't quite believe it even though he's right there in Jake's arms. It's all her dreams coming true, and it's making all the hard things feel so worth it.

 “Jake?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for giving me a baby,” she whispers. She’s too tired, barely even knows what she's saying anymore, but looking at the two of them, all she can think about is how incredibly lucky and thankful she feels.

Jake blinks in disbelief, grinning at her. “Wait, I gotta make sure I heard this right. Did you just thank me for giving you a baby?”

“Uh-huh?”

“And you're serious about this?”

“Well… yeah.”

“So you mean after nine months,” he says, still wide-eyed, “of you telling me, minimum a couple times a week but pretty much daily toward the end, that I could never understand what you're going through, and then you shouting some lovely descriptions at me whilst you were literally pushing him out, and also earlier this evening when you cried because I can't breastfeed him for you – you’re thanking me?”

“Some of it was a team effort,” she insists. “You helped.”

“Oh yeah, my nards sure are loving the credit.”

“Don't be gross.”

“Sorry.” He smiles, a little bashfully, stroking his fingers back and forth over Mac’s forehead instead of looking at her. “But Ames, c’mon. It was a pretty limited effort compared to what you did.”

“Maybe they’re not the same thing.” She leans her head on his shoulder. Mac is still holding on to her finger, but his grip is getting looser now. “But you were part of it too, babe.”

“Really?” He’s blushing. “What did I do that was so special?”

“Let's see. You didn’t laugh at me when I kept crying at everything the first weeks. Rosa made fun of me on a daily basis, but you just hugged me and told me everything was going to be okay. You let me sleep in when I had days off, even though I pretended I wanted you to wake me up. You fixed food for me without telling me what it was, and put it in front of me before I could feel sick thinking about it.” She shakes her head at the memory of those, few but complicated, weeks, and how hard they’d had to work around it. “You kept telling me I looked great even when my body kept changing and it all felt weird, and helped me pick out maternity wear when I didn’t want to do it on my own. I don’t know that I would have taken barely any bump pictures if you hadn't made me. You listened to all my research about the best strollers and pacifiers and cribs, and you did those courses and read all those books with me, and you came to almost every scan and held my hand so tight every time. You came home with onesies and hats because you thought they were too cute not to buy, and you gave me massages whenever I wanted them, and you even slept on the couch a couple nights at the end when I got angry at you for snoring. You barely even complained about it.”

“I complained a little,” Jake mumbles. “When you couldn’t hear me.”

“Fine. And lastly, you rode a horse through the city to get to me while I was in labor, and you didn’t even act like seeing him be born was gross.”

“I mean, it was a little bit gross.” Jake lifts Mac so he can kiss his forehead when he whimpers. “No offense, bud. I mean you looked perfect, I didn’t think you looked like a slimy alien even for a second, didn’t cross my mind, et cetera.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes. “Point is, babe, you were there. You're here now. I know I did the actual work, but you were the one who made sure I could. I don’t know how I would have made it through without you. So… thank you.”

 He doesn't give her any witty comebacks for that, only a shy smile.

“I love you,” Amy all but whispers through the tears that fight their way through her determination to keep them in. “Both of you. So much.”

“Love you, Ames.”

She kisses him, putting her hands on each side of his thighs so she can reach over Mac. Kissing is a lot more complicated than usual when both his hands are busy and none of them wants to risk crushing their son, but it's still nice, feeling his soft lips on hers and squeezing his lower lip between both of hers for just a moment before pulling apart.

“It's hard to kiss you while you're holding a baby,” she says, and Jake grimaces. “That might be the only bad thing about it.”

“My bad. I’m just going to put him down so we can make out all night.”

“Don't you dare. He currently doesn't have a boob in his mouth and he's still not crying, you're not doing anything to risk that now.” Amy pulls the comforter up to her chin. “Wake me up when he needs to eat again and not a second earlier.”

Jake chuckles at her as she turns out the light and snuggles up close to him, but he makes no move to put Mac down or even protest, and she didn't think it was possible to love him even more. Her heart has definitely grown with becoming a mom, much like everyone told her about, but most seem to have forgotten to prepare her for how much it would also grow when it came to her partner.

 “I still think I’m the one who should say thank you,” Jake whispers just as she closes her eyes, and Amy can't help but smile. “If we're talking about who gave who a baby.”

“Jake, just accept the praise.”

“Oh, yeah.” She doesn't need to see his face to know that he's grinning. “I’ve locked it in a little box in my brain and I’m gonna keep it as gloat material forever, bringing it up when you least expect it.”

“That's great, babe.”

“Mm-hmm. We both know the truth, though.” Jake's left hand strokes over the top of her head, and Amy has to look up to see that Mac is still resting safely on his right arm and doesn't seem to have noticed a thing. Another tear fight its way down her cheek at the thought of how safe he must feel with him. This time, she doesn’t even bother to wipe it away.

 ~

[wendy130]

That’s not a fish (Part 1)

//Title to story may be subject to change.

// I will be using he/him pronouns for Eret thorough the entirety of this writing. I am aware that he uses all pronouns; this is to make the writing less confusing with other characters.

// Based on an rp I did with a friend. This isn’t an au. There may be a part two for this, but do not ask for one.

// Warnings: description of drowning (no one dies), the ocean

----

"It was a dark and stormy night."

That's how they always started in the stories.

Eret grunted as he marched through people's scurrying forms, all of them busy with throwing the pools of water that threatened to pull the ship down off of the deck.

Damn those stories to hell. He ducked under a few sailors, his eyes darting around, trying to find someone. Why was it always so hard to find the one person you needed?

Normally, he'd be one of the many bailing the water out, but he had other matters to attend to first. From behind his glasses, his eyes locked onto a figure afar.

"Puffy!" he shouted, striding closer to the woman. She turned to face him, wiping water off of her face as she stared at him with a tense form, "what's-"

"Just a normal storm," she interrupted him, shouting loudly. The crashing waves made it hard to speak normally, "be careful around the edges, Eret."

He slowly nodded, a grimace on his face as he ran a hand through his soaking wet hair. He opened his mouth to say something more, but she threw a bucket at him. He caught it with fumbling hands.

"I- Puffy," he tried yelling back to the captain but shouted in surprise as he felt a bigger than usual wave crash into the side of the ship. Both Puffy and him stumbled back, leaning against the railing and tightly holding onto the tiny, wooden beams for support.

The two exchanged alarmed looks before tilting their heads towards the dark waters.

"That seemed... like it was caused by something else," Eret yelled, forgetting his past worries.

Puffy searched the seas with a hidden intent as if she was looking for something. For someone. She frowned deeply and turned towards him,

"Stay away from the edges," she warily shouted, making no comment on his worries.

"What did you see?" Eret inquired, trying to search the waters like the captain had too. She only pulled him back from the shoulder, giving him a stern look.

That look meant that she was done talking.

Eret frowned, sending one last glance back at the churning waters before heading off to help the crew. He bit back a yelp as he felt another wave crash onto the side of the ship.

As he steadied his swaying figure, he glanced around at the abled men, women, and people who barely seemed affected by the harsh conditions.

He supposed it was only normal for them to be so resilient. It was fairly charming to see them all work together.

He also supposed that he'd have to get used to this, both to his dismay and excitement.

Eret pushed himself to help with whatever he could, passing buckets full of sloshing water back and forth between people and helping out with the masts. After only an hour, he was bone-tired, wheezing in exhaustion.

He really did need to step up his game.

Compared to his homeland, it seemed as if the sea's world needed more force than any battle he had fought before.

Eret yelped as a force from behind him pushed him closer to the edge of the boat. He barely had any time to fall back before a heavy bucket was thrown into his hands. He hesitated for a moment before hurling the water out of the bucket and tossing it to the nearest person who beckoned for the container.

He continued on like this for a while, falling into a steady rhythmic pattern before his arms also grew weak with weariness. He recoiled back as his felt his hands slip on the bucket. He fumbled around, barely catching the pail.

Many hands grasped onto him, pulling him back and pulling the bucket out of his hands. He stumbled back to the middle of the ship, one of the crew members giving him a stiff nod.

He staggered back, his reaction timing slow compared to everyone else on the ship. He was barely able to dodge the people barreling around the deck, and he found himself back at the edge of the ship again.

He was about to push himself back to the middle of the deck so he'd be able to take cover under the deck, but a spark of curiosity burned at the back of his mind. With a single shake of his head, he turned to face the waters, looking for any sign of what Puffy may have been looking for.

He gasped as he felt a lurching sensation alongside a scraping pain on his arms. He was hit with a heavy sense of vertigo as he tumbled downwards- why was he tumbling downwards?

His question was quickly answered as he felt a frigid splash of liquid hit him with full force.

The air in his lungs was knocked out as water consumed his weakened state. His throat and nose burned as water forced its way up into them, and he violently coughed, shoving his way back to the surface.

He was only able to take a short breath before a harsh wave crashed into him, sending him back under the water. He forced his way back up, taking another breath before he was pushed under again. His lungs burned from the lack of oxygen, and his eyes stung from the salty water surrounding it.

Eret wildly glanced around the water, seeing only black inkiness underneath him. He breached the surface of the water again, helplessly looking for the ship he rode on. He cried out as he saw it already far from him,

"No!" he dazedly gasped, "wai- come back," he fruitlessly called out, flailing his arms around, trying to paddle his way to the ship.

It was pointless. He was in dead waters now.

Eret desperately tried anyways, though, clinging onto the diminishing hope that they'd turn around to find him.

A pit of despair grew in his stomach as he saw the ship grow smaller.

Surely they’d notice, right?

He wouldn’t be stuck and left for dead... right?

He almost choked on another wave that tugged him under the water before he surfaced, coughing.

He had gotten him screwed just because he was curious enough to look for something that didn't exist, hadn’t he?

His mouth dried as he felt the waters around him shift and move unnaturally.

...It didn’t exist..... right?

He shakily glanced down at the murky waters, half expecting to see a giant tentacle shoot out and drag him into the depths of the waters like in the stories.

He saw nothing for a moment, unable to discern anything from the foamy, angry waters, but.... as he stared for longer, he saw a giant dark figure circling him.

The outline vaguely reminded him of a shark tail with extra fins, but it had a different front- as if there was another part attached to the shark.

He shook his head, clearing his mind of any possible imaginary projections of his fears before looking back.

Nothing...

He almost sighed in relief, but, instead, a screech ripped from his throat as another wave crashed down on him. He was forced back under the water, given barely any time to gasp for new air. Thrashing wildly, he burst back up, practically coughing his lungs up as he gasped for air.

The waves had picked up in strength again, making him repeat a tiring process of trying to stay above the water. It was a loosing battle, though. Every time he came up for air, he was pushed under.

His muscles burned from use and lack of air, but he pushed on, clinging onto the threads of life.

 As he was pushed back down again, he kept his eyes open, looking around him for anything. His eyes burned from the salty waters, but he kept them open anyways.

He barely suppressed a gasp of shock as he saw a large shadow from afar.

This wasn’t a projection of his mind, was it?

He surged back to the surface with a newfound fear.

If he didn't die of hypothermia or drowning, he was most definitely going to be the victim of this creature.

That of, he was certain.

He desperately tried keeping an eye on the massive shadow, but it easily blended in with the stormy water, and he lost focus on it.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he trembled, weakly paddling around to keep his head above the liquid around him. 

A sinking feeling grew in his gut as he searched around himself for the creature.

He couldn’t find them from around him, so that meant....

Look down, look down, LOOK DOWN-

His eyes shot to underneath him, only to meet the gaze of two glowing green ones.

By Primes, he was so dead, wasn't he?

[amethyst-dreams-and-candy-canes]

Pain

AN: My humble submission for @cockslut-padalecki A Decade Under the Influence writing challenge. Here’s to another decade enjoying our hobbies 💜🖤. My song was Pain by Three Days Grace. I interpreted the song as a toxic relationship and honestly the first person who came to mind was Ranson Drysdale 🤷🏿‍♀️. The lyrics will be italicized. 

Warnings: toxic relationship, domestic abuse (emotional and physical w/ injuries), infidelity, non-con/dub-con (tagging both just in case), destruction of property, somnophilia, I’m not joking yall, heed the warnings this is TOXIC

Word Count: 1,569

I do not own the rights to the song nor the lyrics of the song

Pain without love

Pain, I can't get enough

Pain, I like it rough

'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all

Sitting on the side of the bed, you survey the damage. A hole in the wall. Shattered lamp near the nightstand. A bloody hand print on the pillow to your right. It draws your attention as you try to figure out whose blood it is. Doesn't matter, you're both bleeding. A cough to your left in the corner of the room makes you wince; he'll never admit it but this fight took a lot out of him. His breathing is labored and you wonder if you may have broken a rib. Good. 

You sigh as you rack your memory to figure out how you got here. They say no relationship is perfect but yours was pretty close. In the beginning, Ransom Drysdale was a perfect gentleman; always held the door open for you, brought you flowers and even watched that TV show with you that you knew he didn’t particularly care for. The first year was a dream. But then things started to go downhill. Fights with his family would result to him coming to your apartment and taking his frustrations out on you. You allowed it then; thinking you’d be a good outlet for him. But soon his ranting and raving turned into him degrading you. When his grandfather passed, the flood gates opened and your head was on a spindle, waiting for his next mood swing. Still you stayed even if you knew it was no longer a healthy relationship. Naively you continued to stand by his side telling yourself that at least he was physical with you and that had to mean he cared for you even if he could’t expression himself in a loving manner.

Then came the cheating. Openly flaunting his conquests in your mutual circles. At first you didn't want to believe it. You trusted him and he reciprocated your trust or so you assumed. But the pitied stares and crude whispers at your expense began to chip away at you. You'd confront him and at first, he denied it. You were the only one for him he had proclaimed and like a love sick puppy, you were his again. But when videos and photos were sent to your phone, hard evidence of his betrayal, he didn't even bother to come up with a good lie. He knew you loved him and used that to his advantage. But there was only so much you could take. So much you would take.

This life is filled with hurt

When happiness doesn't work

Trust me, and take my hand

When the lights go out, you'll understand

Another cough and a groan. He was attempting to stand up. Curses left his lips as he stands on wobbly legs, no doubt as dizzy as you are. You stare straight ahead, hoping that he wouldn’t want to continue the fight and leave you alone. He mutters to himself before he spits, blood and saliva landing on the tile next to your foot. You see his foot for a split second before he moves away from you and to the bathroom door. 

“Fucking bitch.” he quite literally spits. You want to retort, a scathing insult on your tongue but the throbbing in your head is too distracting to care. The door slams and you close your eyes, the exhaustion settling in your bones. And soul. 

"So, what? It's over? Give me a break." He laughed incredulously at you. The smirk that you had once found so handsome now was the bane of your existence. "Like you can find someone better, sweetheart."

"I can and I will!" You rant, pacing back and forth. He's perched on your counter-top, legs swing as he regards you with a humorous expression that only pisses you off more. 

"Yeah sure. Good luck with that."

You're sick of feeling numb

You're not the only one

I'll take you by the hand

And I'll show you a world that you can understand

The running water brings you back to the present and your heart breaks at the memory. He was right. No matter how many dates you went on, how many you invited into your bed. No one could compare. As much as you hated him, you loved him. Love him. 

You weren't expecting to see him sitting on your bed after your date. It was lackluster at best and you honestly just wanted to lay down and forget the whole ordeal. You sat your purse on the dresser and crossed your arms waiting for his tirade but when the silence stretched longer than you were comfortable with, you moved to go to the bathroom. He was on you in seconds, left hand secured firmly around your throat. "Really? You replaced me with that tool?" 

Anger and agony are better than misery

Trust me, I've got a plan

When the lights go up, you'll understand

You couldn't ignore the thrill that went through you at his anger. Serves him right. Too many nights you sat up and cried over his infidelity, his cruelty. About time he felt even an iota of the pain he put you through. Your eyes meet his as you stared him down. You knew he wanted an answer and your defiance would be the response. 

"You're such a cunt, you know that? Pathetic. I fucking hate you." You strike him before you know it. The slap resounded around the room. His hand leaves your throat as he grabs his face, eyes wide in shock. You didn't mean to hit him but your body moved faster than your brain, his audacity triggering your fight or flight. He lunged at you quicker than you thought he could and gave you a hard smack in return. His hand found your throat again and he shoved you against the wall, the back of your head smacking it loudly. 

"So you wanna be tough now, huh? Finally fight back?" He snarled too close to your face. You tried to shove him off but he was stronger and leaned his body in towards you. Your vision began to wane, either from the lack of oxygen or the hit against the wall you weren't sure. He was speaking, that much you were certain of but his words were lost in your determination to breathe. Grabbing at his wrist, you dropped your body weight and pulled him down with you. You both hit the floor and as soon as he released you, you crawled away from him and hit the nightstand causing the lamp to rock on the floor. He was on his feet quicker than you had expected and you grabbed the lamp and swung, the metal connecting to his side. 

"I hate you too, asshole." 

I know, I know, I know, I know, I know

That you're wounded

(You know, you know, you know, you know)

That I'm here to save you

(You know, you know, you know, you know)

I'm always here for you

(I know, I know, I know, I know)

That you'll thank me later

Hot air suffocated you and a heaviness settled over you so forcefully that you found it hard to draw a breath. The throbbing in your head had dulled but was present and you groaned. You tried to move away from the weight but you were pinned, unable to wiggle away. Consciousness ebbed and flowed but a sharp jolt on your lower body forced you towards awareness. A soft moan above you made you frown as another sharp thrust to your groin made you open your eyes. It was dark but you could see Ransom, lips parted and face contorted in pain or pleasure, you weren't sure. His face hovered close to yours and for a moment, a wave of panic washed over you at the thought he might kill you. Another thrust made you gasp and your fuzzy brain fought to catch up. 

"Don't fight it." He whispered almost uncharacteristically gentle as his hips rolled into yours. Gritting your teeth, you attempt to move away from him but he has your arms pinned to your sides. His lips find yours and the stunning pain of the cut makes you whimper. Another thrust and your legs part on their own accord and you writhe under him, the feeling of him inside of you a cruel comfort. He takes it as your submission and speeds up as he trails kisses from your jaw to your neck where he buries his face. Your head swims as you once again try to figure out just how you got here. He moans your name and bites into your neck, the small spark triggering your orgasm unexpectedly. His pace falters at the feel of you clenching around him and it isn’t long before he comes with a broken hiss of your name. 

“I love you.” his soft admission barely heard over his labored breathing. Tears sting your eyes as he nuzzles against you and wraps his arms across your torso. You don’t know who you hate more, him or yourself. As the tears fall into your hairline and his breathing evens out, you realize that the answer is yourself because you know the truth and can do nothing about it. 

“I love you too.”

Rather feel pain than nothing at all

Rather feel pain...

I’m not tagging a lot of people because I don’t want to offend: @avintagekiss24 @sapphirescrolls @cockslut-padalecki 

[ateezmakemeweep]

broken (part 2).

san x reader

word count: 12k

angst, fluff (tw: mentions of domestic abuse and rape)

(part 1)

no matter how many times you tried to change your thinking patterns, you still classified your life into two parts: before the abuse and after.

you thought, after watching your ex-boyfriend being escorted out of the courtroom with a one-year prison sentence, that you wouldn’t be scared of him anymore.

you thought that moving out of the house and living in your new apartment would make day to day life easier, not needing to see the floor you were beaten on or counter you were forced to have sex on every day.

you thought that having san would make you feel happy and loved and enough. that having a whole new family unit consisting of seven other crazy boys and a crotchety old lady would be enough.

but as you sit curled up on the bathroom floor with tears in your eyes, you’re seeing you severely underestimated everything. 

underestimated just how much trauma you still had to sort through and how badly that asshole really did mess you up.

six months ago:

“so we have the surveillance footage and witness testimony from your neighbors,” your lawyer explains gently, an older woman with kind eyes and soft-spoken voice that quickly transforms in the courtroom. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

the harshest sentence being one year, a measly 365 days compared to the 1,825 he subjected you to every kind of abuse: sexual, emotional, mental, physical. 

hitting and grabbing and slapping until your skin was littered with bruises and cuts. 

talking so harshly to you that you believed dying was the best option, stripping you from any sort of confidence or self-esteem you once had. 

making you feel completely inept and useless, solely viewing you as a piece of property he could boss around and use at his disposal. 

you had left the office with shaking hands and a pounding heart, barely being able to dial san’s number before he answered after one ring. 

this was the first appointment you’ve went to without him, insisting he can’t and won’t miss his midterm for this. 

“hi, love. everything go okay?” he asks softly, with the sweet gentle voice that has quite literally kept you alive these past few months. 

you don’t know what you did in another life to deserve san but you know that without him, you probably wouldn’t have made it this far. without his constant support and sweet reassurances, you wouldn’t have believed you could ever do this. 

willingly tell police officers and lawyers about what happened to you, break down and expose yourself in such a way that always made you feel weak and pathetic. 

admit aloud that, yes, you’ve been a victim of abuse and no, those bruises and scars on your body aren’t from clumsy falls into the wall or cabinet. 

without him, accompanying you to the police station or lawyer’s office, where you knew jungkook was lingering, you would’ve never felt safe. 

you would’ve broke down and took it all back, told them that you made it all up and to release him because he didn’t do anything wrong.

but he did so much wrong and you and san know that. the police and lawyers and judges know it too, several outbursts from the man in court and at the station proving that. 

it’s what makes the thought of a personal statement so hard, having to look your ex-boyfriend in the face and watch him stare you down with not an ounce of remorse or sorrow.

san must know it too, if your silence through the phone tells him anything, and you can already hear shuffling in the background as he prepares to leave his class and head to your apartment.   

“are you done with your test?” you ask first, voice sweet but mousy in a way that makes san’s stomach sink

he knew today was gonna be rough for you, he knew he should’ve asked his professor to retake the midterm next week. 

“yes,” the boy answers immediately, knowing he’s about to run back into the classroom, circle c for the last three answers and haul ass to his car. 

“san, are you-”

“i was done, it’s fine, y/n,” he confirms gently, feet moving and body desperate to rush toward your apartment. 

because he knows after all of this time, you’ve learned to hold back your pain and suffering. years of practice and keeping tears at bay that he’s noticed have made these months difficult for you two. 

and he hates knowing that you still wait till you’re alone to cry. 

that even though every time you do, he wipes away every tear and holds you to his chest until you fall asleep, you still feel most comfortable being sad alone.

that you’re probably already home now, about to bury your face in a pillow and sob until you hear his car and wipe your cheeks clean like nothing is wrong. 

but there’s a lot wrong. 

a lot wrong with how you’ve been treated and how hard it is to move past it. 

a lot wrong with the legal system that makes this painful journey even more exhausting, forcing you to recount memory after memory and answer question after question about the worst ordeals of your life. 

that’s why san can’t help but turn in his test and rush out the door to his car, speeding off campus and onto the highway in hot pursuit of your apartment above the bakery.

it had seemed like perfect little place to get you back on your feet, the smell of freshly baked bread and pleasant bustle of regulars greeting you in the early morning hours. 

there was no commute for you, just a walk down the stairs and through the yellow door of the bakery, where simple work waited for you. 

“you just need to ring up the customers and maybe clean a table or two. most people take their things to go,” your boss had told you, a divorced mother of three who spent most of her life baking before she was finally able to open up a place of her own. 

it was simple work but it was more than you’d done in years, something as little as small talk with regulars successfully draining you. filling you with a nervousness and fear that you’re still feeling even without your ex’s presence. 

but it’s in the way a man yells on the phone about a business deal going sour while waiting for his morning coffee. 

a woman chastising her kids saying that they won’t get to eat the cookies she’s buying after dinner. 

the slam of the door when a harsh gust of wind howls from outside and rattles the small bakery with light blue walls and pictures of bread and desserts.

you don’t know how many coffees you’ve spilt or plates you’ve broken from jumping at the harsh sounds, realizing little by little how hard this transition was gonna be. 

even with san and his friends and your boss and the crazy old lady who secured this new life for you in the first place, it’s still hard. 

you can’t even imagine doing all of these new things alone, just living in such a simple way that the average person takes for granted. 

but you suppose it’s not all simple yet, going back and forth between meetings with your lawyer and the police for the court date that’s rapidly approaching. 

you can feel that the closer it comes, the harder it is to breathe. 

the mere thought of seeing the man who hurt you for the longest five years of your life, sitting in front of you with not an ounce of remorse on his face. making  this process even harder because how are you supposed to talk in front of him? 

see clear as day that you’re not safe and you never will be. 

that he’s gonna get out in a year, because that’s the harshest sentence possible without you being hospitalized or dead, and hurt you again. he’s never gonna stop hurting you because he always said you were his and he wouldn’t ever hesitate to-

you don’t even hear the jingle of san’s keys opening the front door or his softly spoken call of your name. 

you’re only aware of his presence when you feel his warm, small hands cup your face, his thumbs rubbing over your wet, salty skin as he mutters your name lowly.

“hey, i’m here, i’m here,” he mumbles sweetly, tone soft and gentle the way it always is no matter what the circumstances are.

he plops down on the couch before pulling you into his lap, his hand rubbing up and down your back gently. you hear the quiet but firm “sh, sh, sh,” against your head, the sharp calming hums always in threes as an attempt to ground you.

you try to focus on his calming sounds and even breaths, the hand on your back so warm and gentle as he lulls your panicked body into a calmer state. 

you bury your face in his chest and breathe in his scent, cologne and detergent mixed with his natural scent that lingers on your pillow every morning. 

“i-i’m sorry.”

the words make his stomach plummet, tears burning his eyes because you never have anything to be sorry for. you never have anything to be sorry for and you say it all the time. 

when you bump into him in the kitchen while making food together.

when you sit on the remote and change the channel by accident.

when you burnt the cookies one night and made the fire alarm go off. 

he remembers that being one of the worse nights, the loud noises making you jump while also flinching away when he lifted his arm up to fan away the smoke. and then you immediately apologized again, cookies long forgotten before he grabbed your hand and led you into the living room. 

he just held your hand as you both watched tv, his thumb rubbing over your skin before you spoke words so quietly, he almost missed them. 

“i wish...i would stop doing that.”

he cranes his neck over to look at you, eyebrow raised and eyes soft as he looks  at you questioningly. 

he wants to tease and say that you’ve never burnt the cookies before but anytime you feel comfortable enough to talk to him like this, he never wants to say the wrong thing.

“i...i know you would never hurt me,“ you continue after a few moments. “and i know i’m just...scared easily, i guess. but it makes me feel bad,” you admit quietly, heart pulling in your chest as you look at the man beside you. 

he has gotten you through the hardest times of your life, has been by your side every step of the way with no questions or complaints, and you haven’t been able to repay him. 

not even with a plate of fucking cookies. 

“you don’t have to feel bad, y/n,” san says gently, his hand reaching out slowly to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear. 

your eyes close at his feather light touch and the way it makes your heart jump, his fingers lingering on you in a way that makes you feel so safe and content. 

“and i know it’s hard to believe still but you have nothing to be scared of either. i’m not gonna let anyone hurt you again and i mean that.”

“but i feel like i’m hurting you,” you mumble softly, pulling your knees up as you rest your head on the couch cushion. his brows pull together as his eyes roam your face, a pout on his lips the more he looks at you in silence.

“you’ve helped me so much and i just...” tears fill your eyes as you struggle to find the words and breathe. you’ve only been living in your new house for two months now and almost every day, san has been here. 

bringing you food, helping you clean and decorate, spending late nights with you watching movies, helping you through an inevitable fit of panic when your memories and life become too much. 

he makes it easier to breathe and you’re scared that without him, you’re gonna stop one day.

“i just keep... taking from you. you get nothing out of helping me but you still do it anyway and i...you shouldn’t even bother, san. i-i’m not worth this time and i just want you to-”

“stop.”

he tries to keep the anger out of his voice knowing that all of this is what you’ve been told. you’ve been told your whole life that you weren’t enough, were only deemed worthy by a piece of shit who did nothing but hurt and berate you. 

but it doesn’t make it any less hard to hear. to hear in your voice and see in your eyes that you truly believe you’re not worth the time he wants to put into you. 

“you’re worth the time to me,” he says, voice gentle but firm in a way that makes a lump form in your throat. his finger reaches out to trace small circles on your hand, your eyes following it so he doesn’t see the tears building up. 

“i like seeing you happy, y/n. and i wanna help you.”

your teary eyes meet his and you swallow the growing lump in your throat when you see the look on his face, soft and sweet in a way you still can’t believe is directed toward you. 

“i feel like i need a lot of help,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as you think back to how day to day life is so challenging and draining. 

the loud voices and the screaming kids and banging door that sends you into a panic. the broken dishes and tear stains on your pillow that are there more often than not after san leaves every night. 

but san’s hearing each and every word right now, his heart panging in his chest at how vulnerable you are right now. how you let him see this side of you and continue to despite how hard he knows everything’s been. 

“that’s okay,” he smiles softly, stopping the circles on your hand to intertwine your fingers. “i’m gonna be here as long as you need me, okay?”

you look up to meet his gaze and feel a tear slip down your cheek, a cry bubbling in your throat that you so desperately wanna let out. 

but you also don’t wanna make san any more sad tonight, biting down on your lip as you nod your head before leaning on his shoulder. 

you don’t see the smile that crosses his face or hear the content sigh that leaves him, his hand in yours and presence enough to lull you into a dreamless sleep. 

“you have nothing to be sorry for,” he assures you quietly, looking over your face as he wipes at your cheeks. you meet his gaze and your eyes stay locked on one another, his thumb gentle and soft across your skin.

“did you do good on your test?” you squeak out after a few moments of silence, a smile breaking out across his face. 

“of course i did, we studied all night, didn’t we?” he teases, referring to just last night when you helped him with index cards and read them all to him twice before promptly passing out on his chest. 

a blush crosses your face as you look down in embarrassment, a sweet high pitched laugh bubbling out of him. 

“it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed. your drool only ruined a few of them.”

“i don’t drool,” you mutter, a small smile on san’s face as he tightens his hold on you in his lap. 

“did you eat yet?” 

you shake your head as indistinguishable mumble leaves your mouth, curling yourself into his chest more as his warmth and comforting scent envelop you. 

his lips brush against your hair in a small smile, quietly asking what you wanna eat even though he knows you’re gonna say you don’t care. 

“whatever you want,” you mutter against him, the exhaustion of waking up at 5 am and the draining meeting with your lawyer catching up to you. 

and san knows on days like these that chinese food and watching reruns of old cartoons is usually the thing you need to feel a little bit better. 

pretend that just for a few hours, everything is okay and there’s nothing more pressing than spending the night together in what always turns into having a sleepover. 

because just as you found it difficult to live in that house you once shared with jungkook, san finds it difficult to go back to that block every night. 

stay just a few houses away from where he’s reminded of how you were treated while he was just a few feet away.

watching as the backyard once full of flowers becomes dull and colorless and every window reminds him of what was truly going on behind the walls of that house.

it’s one of the reasons why staying with you just makes sense. that and the fact that leaving you always proves to be the hardest part of the night together. 

you with a pout and sad eyes quietly whining for him to stay and him being completely powerless as he throws himself down next to you and wraps his arms around your waist. 

he’s not surprised when the same thing happens tonight, your eyes drooping and body slacking against him before he quietly asks if he should get going. you look up at him tiredly, eyebrows pulled together and one cheek red from you leaning on his chest in a way that makes him hold back a smirk.

“no,” you say quietly, your eyes roaming his face before you quickly realize he might want to leave you. the thought rips a pang of hurt through your chest but you can’t help but feel that might be the case. 

you ripped him away from his test and cried on him all night. why would he wanna stay with you? 

“unless you want to. i-i don’t wanna force you to stay here if you don’t-”

“of course i want to,” san responds, taking your face in his hands gently and allowing his thumb to run along your soft skin. “i was just checking.” 

because he also never wants to overstep. make you feel too overwhelmed or smothered since if it were up to him, he’d never leave your side again. 

his words and touch send relief through you, the panic and fear that attempted to break through quickly dying it. everything about him makes it so easy to be calm and comforted, a smile making it’s way on your face as you nod. 

you place your head back on his chest, sighing contently when you feel his arm wrap around your shoulder a few moments later. you stare at the tv blankly, not sure how long you’re lost in thought about the conversation at the lawyer’s office. 

“but a personal statement, if you feel comfortable, would probably guarantee the harshest sentence.”

could you really do that though? strip yourself to the most vulnerable degree and proclaim to a courtroom full of people how weak and defenseless you were for five years? how the man who’s gonna be seated just a few feet away over you had that much power over you? 

would you feel better looking jungkook in the face and telling him that you’re gonna be strong and come out okay? that he won’t be able to hurt you anymore and will rot behind a cell for what he’s done?

or would you it make you feel worse? seeing him again and the blankness behind his eyes. the pity and sorrowful looks on the judge and court officers when your voice shakes and eyes brim with tears as you recall your old life.

you’re not even sure if san is awake at this point, his arm heavy around you and breaths even under your head but you can’t seem to stop your tired self from speaking.

“my lawyer suggested i make a personal statement.”

san doesn’t stutter under you, the only sign of him being awake when he hums lowly and gently pulls away from you. the bed dips next to you when he lays on his side, your eyes meeting just as he reaches out to smooth out a messy strand of hair.

“yeah?” he mumbles lowly, his soft eyes roaming your face. “how do you feel about that?” 

the question, despite the serious tension in leaves in the air, makes you smile softly, remembering when your lawyer recommended counseling, you thought back to san waiting in the car and felt as if you already had all the support you needed. 

he has the most patience and kindness of anyone you’ve ever met before and you can’t imagine trusting someone as much as trust him. have someone else hear you this vulnerable and genuine, see you cry and feel all the emotions that come with rebuilding your life after being a victim of domestic violence. 

“i don’t know if i can do it.”

the words make san frown, holding himself up on his elbow as he looks over your face with concern. he can tell you’re tired, eyes hazy and drooping but he also can tell your mind’s been preoccupied. 

more so than usual. 

“i...i don’t know if i could do it with him there.”

“he’s not gonna hurt you anymore,” san reminds you gently, his hand creeping down in between your bodies to take ahold of yours. it’s soft and small and warm and everything about it makes you feel safe. 

“i-i know. but...just him being there. watching me and hearing me say what he’s done when i know he has no remorse. and then telling more people how i let it go on for so long and-”

“you didn’t let anything go on for too long. it wasn’t your fault. y/n.”

tears burn your eyes as a lump forms in your throat, hearing those words from almost everyone in your life but still not having the ability to grasp it. 

it feels like your fault, it feels like you’ve allowed yourself to be treated in a way you knew was wrong for far too long. 

because now look at you. trying to rebuild your life but being panicked when the wind howls just a little too loudly outside. 

you take a few deep calming breaks and swallow as you look at him, eyes hazy and glossy and threatening to close shut; you’re so tired but it’s like your brain never stops going these days. 

“she said...it’d guarantee the harshest sentence. but shouldn’t the evidence be enough? the tapes and the witnesses? why- why do i have to keep going through this?” you whisper, voice shaky and tears building as you look at him. the sight alone makes san stomach sink, rolling his tongue between his lips anxiously. 

“i just want it to be over. i don’t wanna keep recounting what happened over and over and over again. i... it’s so hard, san. it’s so hard and i feel like i can’t do it anym-” 

your words break off as a quiet whimper leaves your mouth, crumbling against san’s body when he pulls you forward and wraps his arms around you. your head falls in the crook of his neck as his hand rests on the back of your head, breathing slowly and evenly as quiet hums leave his mouth. 

“I know, baby,” san mumbles, his lips against your head as he presses a kiss to your hair. “you don’t have to do anything you don’t wanna do, okay? no one can make you do anything.”

"you're hurting me, jungkook," your broken voice tells him, the cracks and pain behind it familiar to even your own ears.

you don't know how many times you've heard yourself like this. so desperate and defeated.

"i wish i didn't have to, babydoll," he says lowly, "but you never listen. you make me do this."

and you don’t even think about if you’re gonna regret it at the time. not use your own voice and speak up in front of the courtroom about what the man on trial did. 

you can only think about his eyes watching you, your friends hearing your voice quiver and shake, the judge maybe not taking your words into account. it all seems too much right now, the crushing weight of anxiety and fear that’s making you feel too weak to do that. 

“you made it this far. and it’s almost all over, okay?” san reassures, his hand stroking your hair as he tries to calm your cries. “if you wanna do it, i’ll be right there next to you. we’ll all be there for you and you’ll be safe the whole time. but if you don’t, that’s okay too. you don’t have to and everything will still be okay.”

and because it’s like the blonde just knows everything when it comes to you, everything is okay - or as okay as things can be under these circumstances. 

your lawyer didn’t bat an eye when you told her you weren’t sure if you could do a personal statement, her hand on your shoulder as she gently tells you that it’s okay. that the harshest sentence would probably still be given, considering the unusual amount of evidence in a case like this. 

you watched jungkook get taken out of court with a one year sentence, thrashing in handcuffs and cursing at you while you gripped san’s hand tightly. 

you had foolishly thought watching that was gonna somehow heal you immediately. 

no longer make you afraid or flinch at the smallest of sounds or movements, make you feel like now you can take san’s words to heart and feel worthy of the love he showered you with. 

but it was with that love, you started to grow too dependent. let it consume you in a whole new way that made you feel like without san, you couldn’t breathe. 

at first, he didn’t know what had triggered the episodes that followed three months after the trial. 

it had seemed as if you were making a lot of progress over the past few months, truly happy and smiley without an ounce of fear in your eyes that had always seemed to linger. 

you were working hard at the bakery, becoming closer with the regulars and even finding it easier to talk with them. they found you comforting and sweet, always greeting them with a warm smile and remembering how many sugars they got with their morning coffee. 

the same warm smile you gave san when he told you he was visiting his parents for his mom’s birthday one weekend, sending him off with a loaf of bread and an array of cookies. 

“don’t eat them all,” you teased lightly, side-eyeing mingi who was one of your many regulars and could also take your advice as he shovels rainbow cookies in his mouth. 

“i won’t,” san smiles gently, looking in mingi’s direction and holding back a laugh upon seeing the boy. 

he was probably the next closest person you came to trust since you all got to know each other, a soft spot for him ever since the moment he deemed sunflowers ‘sunnies’ during the darker times. 

mingi was the happiness and innocence you think you must have had once. finding the good in everything and being happy just because the sun was out and dessert was on the table. 

“and neither should you,” san chastises the younger boy, smacking him in the back of the head lightly. you smile softly at the exchange, holding back a snort as you clean off the table next to the bickering boys. 

the arm around your waist a few moments later would’ve startled you had you not smelt san’s cologne, leaning into him and feeling grateful you’re the only three in the store right now. 

you look over your shoulder and smile softly at him, heart stuttering at the look on his face. eyes full of such concern, you should know he’s about to ask you if you’re-

“are you gonna be okay tonight?” 

he wasn’t ignorant of the fact, the same way you weren’t, that this is gonna be one the first nights you’ve spent alone in months. 

not falling asleep to the gentle lull of his breathing or his arms around your waist. no one to be there if you wake up from a nightmare, where memories torment your body as you hear the shouts of your ex and feel as if your body is still being bruised.

san not being there to wake you with a gentle peck on the cheek before dragging you back to the warm bed when you try to get up for work. 

but you have to be okay, right? you’ve been doing so good these past few weeks. and you’re an adult the same way he’s an adult, it’s ridiculous to think you guys would have to spend every night together. 

“of course, silly” you poke him gently, smiling when his dimples poke out of his cheeks. “have fun with your parents. don’t worry about me.”

“i always worry about you,” he mumbles lowly, his lips ghosting over your hair as you push his chest lightly. he bites back a smile when he sees the blush on your cheeks, pulling away from him immediately so you can stick your tongue out at him. 

and that night, it actually feels as if you’re okay. 

you busy yourself by cleaning and cooking before passing out to the vampire diaries. your sleep is dreamless and calm, waking up to a good morning message from san consisting of a bare-faced, messy-haired selfie. 

but a few days after his return is when he began to notice the little changes. 

behaviors he thinks you weren’t even aware of that made his heart sink into his stomach; it reminded him so much of the first few weeks you were away from jungkook. 

how despite the fear in your eyes, you clung to him because you knew he’d never hurt you. felt safe in his presence and sought him out when you were feeling uncomfortable or upset. 

and he sees you’re back to the place right now, so obviously uneasy and upset despite the major progress you’ve been making. 

it was like the second he came through the door, you had to be by his side. leaning your head on his shoulder as you watched your shows or grabbing his hand when he got up to go to the bathroom. 

at first, he thought it was cute - your clinginess and obvious affection toward him. he thought it was sweet and it made him so happy, smiling softly and kissing the top of your head as he told you he’d be back in a minute.

but the more the weeks went on, the worse it was seeming to get. 

you asking him after only a few hours of him at school when he was gonna be back. nightmares and bad memories haunting you when you’d fall asleep for naps in between your shift ending and his last class. 

“baby... are you sure you’re okay these days?” 

the words cause you to stop stirring the pasta in the pot, craning your neck to where san is sitting on the countertop. 

he meets your gaze with a soft smile and extends his hand out to you, leaning down to press a kiss to your nose before pulling you up.

you squeal at the sensation, giggling quietly because there you two are just perched on the counter like two cats and no regard for the boiling pot of food beside you. 

you giggle again when he places a kiss to your neck, tightening his hold around your waist.

he relishes in the sound of your laugh because it also seems like these days, he’s hasn’t heard it that much. 

“i feel like i haven’t heard that in a while,” he mumbles against your neck, his lips lingering on your skin. he never wants to say the wrong thing with you or make you feel like you’re not doing good enough. 

you pull back and look at him with a small pout, your fingers toying at the end of his shirt nervously. 

“i...i’m okay though,” you tell him quietly, thinking it’s the truth even though you have felt off these days. 

you didn’t know what it was though honestly. it’s felt like ever since san came back from his parents, you’ve needed him extra. clingy and needy and annoying in the sense that the poor man can’t even go away without you needing him. 

and now he seems to know it, too. 

maybe he doesn’t wanna do this anymore. maybe he didn’t sign up for months of you going back and forth, feeling great and confident one week and then back to being clingy and scared the next. 

because you know it’s only a matter of time before two things happens: he gets sick of you and leaves or starts resenting you. doesn’t wanna waste his time with a battered woman when he could be wth fun and carefree college girls. 

“have i been annoying?” 

your blurted out question throws him off as much as it breaks his heart, immediately shaking his head as he cups your cheeks. 

his lips fall into a pout and your eyes immediately fall to them, about to comment on it before he places a sweet, short peck on yours.

you two, despite your close and intimate relationship full of skin-ship, don’t kiss a lot. you can only count of one hand how many times san has kissed you on the lips, most of the time going for your cheek or head.

but you certainly don’t mind. 

you think it’s good to take it slow, since everything else about your relationship is so intense. that’s why the times he does kiss you, you get filled with such a happy warm feeling that usually makes you feel better no matter what. 

that’s how you know you’re not right. that suddenly, for some reason, you’re not okay again despite being so incredibly lucky that the people in you life now care about you. 

they’re trying so hard to help you and it feels like you can’t repay them in any way.

“no, no, baby, not at all,” san says when he pulls back, his thumb gently rubbing your cheek. “i’m just concerned.”

the lump in your throat makes it feel like you can’t breathe, biting your lip harshly as you look up at the blonde. 

“i love that you want me around,” he continues softly, his voice barely above a whisper as he looks down at you. “but i’m just...i also wanna make sure you’re okay.”

you nod your head as you take in his words, slightly calmed by them despite the way your mind is trying to tell you otherwise. 

he loves that you want him around, he just said so. and he wouldn’t put up with you if he didn’t want to, right?

“i’m okay,” you assure sweetly, leaning into his touch just a little bit more. “i guess i just missed you.”

your cheeks flush at the soft, almost touched look that crosses san’s face, his lips falling into a pout as he tightens his hold on you.

“i missed you too.”

boiling liquid splashing onto the stove causes you both to look away, a squeal leaving your mouth as the foamy water overflows the pot. 

“shit!” you squeal, jumping down from the counter to rush over and lower the heat. san watches from his spot with a small smile, chuckling lightly when you throw him a look.

“sorry,” he says sheepishly, a playful roll of your eyes causing him to jump down and hug you from behind.

he presses small kisses and laughs into the crook of your neck as you finish making the pasta, feeding him pieces from the pot to see if it’s cooked enough. 

you eat on the couch and spend the rest of the night watching tv, a relatively calm and relaxed night that makes you feel much better than the past few days. 

you think you just got so used to his presence, the comfort and warmth and light he provides by just being in your apartment and smiling at you. 

you were scared by how attached you’d grown to him, depending on him in a way you think a person who has gone through what you’ve gone through shouldn’t.

but he’s so good and makes you feel loved. it’s such a different feeling than one you’ve ever experienced, after your family and friends and ex-boyfriend let you down time and time again. 

you’ve never had someone like this before but you’ve also never tried to rebuild your life before. never had the chance to be your own person and make your own decisions - it’s something you’re still learning and that’s evident to everyone in your life. 

but the next morning, a pleasant surprise in the form of mrs. kim comes bursting through the door and immediately lights your face with a smile; apart from san and mingi, she’s another person you’ve grown extremely close and fond of. 

she’s the one who made everything possible, rebuilding your life with a new home and workplace. it’s why she always tries to push you further out of your comfort zone and into the real world with gentle prodding and much needed assurance. 

she’s at the bakery for almost two hours before she pulls up a chair behind the register and gets that look in her eye you know all too well. it’s the look she gave you the day you accepted the apartment, insisting you take it and make it your own and to not even think about how to pay her back. 

the look she gave you before the trial as she gave you strength, told you that you were strong and you were gonna get through this, with or without your personal statement. 

and apparently it’s the look she gives you when she broaches the topic of you enrolling back in school. 

“so what do you think?” she asks, tone carefree and excited like she’d been thinking about this for weeks. “is that something you’d wanna do?” 

your immediate thought is yes. yes, yes, yes shout it from the rooftops yes. you miss school and learning and all the experiences that come with getting an education. 

you once loved school and had so many aspirations but then your life apart. the prospect of an education or getting a job was dangled in your face as some sort of manipulation tactic.

that when jungkook went too far and left you especially bloody and bruised, he’d mentioned school like it was the answer to all of your problems as a couple. like that was his penance and would win him boyfriend of the year.

and mrs. kim must see the haunted look in your eye, replaying flashbacks and memories from how choices like that weren’t under your control for the longest time. 

“listen to me, stop staying in there,” she says, flicking at your head and making you wince. “is that something you wanna do? yes or no?” 

“yes but i-”

“but nothing,” the old lady says, wiping out an ipad the boys had been teaching her how to use for the past few weeks; the font is the biggest size you’ve ever seen and has a cat case on that almost makes you burst out laughing upon seeing.

“i was looking at the local school, it’s close and cheap but you could always get some financial aid, scholarships or even a loan,” she begins to tell you, eyes squinted and a wrinkle between her browns as she taps on the screen. “this shit is so hard, i’m still trying to learn. oh, great here it is, okay. look, they even have this major.”

you had mentioned once that you thought about a career in journalism to her, one night when you and her were making cookies in her house as the boys tended to her garden (because they were gardeners now, official, professional gardeners who only know how to plant sunflowers). 

tears almost immediately fill in your eyes as you follow her pruny finger, licking over your lips so you don’t start sobbing. 

she looks up at you after a few moments of silence and it’s promptly followed by her smacking your arm, a scoff leaving her mouth that makes you giggle. 

“what are you crying about?” 

the emotion clogged in your throat makes it hard to speak, attempting to talk through the strange contrast of tears and laughter bubbling in your throat. 

“i just... i can’t believe you remember i told you that. it was so long ago.”

“what? you think because i’m old i don’t remember shit? i’m not a senile, y/n, jesus.” 

a wet giggle leaves your mouth as you listen to her talk about the research she’s done, about how to pay and when you can start and her son’s experience at the local college. 

it all makes you feel very hopeful, excited even, as you think about what once seemed impossible. 

getting out in the world and pursuing a passion you as an individual had. making connections and just conversing with different people and seeing relationships form. 

but all of those doubts and fears instilled in you don’t just go away.

you remember months back when you told san you were writing again, he was the one who recommended going back to school. 

was so happy about it that his eyes were shining and dimples were out and you’d never seen someone more handsome.

but now that you guys are...kind of together, would his mind change? does he not want you talking to other people either now? will he think it’s silly or pointless, since you already have you job at the bakery? 

you know deep down that that’s not the kind of person san is. you knew from the moment you met him and risked talking and smiling and laughing with him that he was good.

but that part of you still scared and broken from what you went through, the prospect of school and freedom dangled in your face as some sort of reward or apology, is scared he won’t approve.

and whether it’s unhealthy or not, all you want is san’s approval. 

“c-can i ask you something?” you ask him later that night, both of you cuddled up on the couch.

a blanket’s thrown over your lap with san’s arm around your shoulder, your head now off his chest as you look up at him questioningly. 

he immediately looks down at you with a soft, curious expression, running his hand through your hair as a small smile makes it’s way on his face. 

“anything,” he hums lowly, already making your nervous body feel slightly more calm. 

you have to try and always remember this is the boy who’s been by your side for months, with no complaints. who saved you from your life before this and only wants you to be safe and happy. 

“i was talking to miss kim earlier today...” you begin, his interest already peeked because he thinks he might know where this is going; he was suspicious ever since the older woman asked him how to make the font larger on her ipad. 

he sees the slight apprehension and fear in your eyes so he takes your hand in his, running his thumb over your skin gently and giving you a small, encouraging nod. 

you take a deep breath and try to shake the worry off, opening and closing your mouth before deciding to spit it out. 

“we...were talking about me going back to school. and i...kind of thought that would be something good for me to do. i used to love school and learning and mrs kim. said there’s a lot of things i could do to pay for it and stuff, if i needed to...” 

his chest hurts slightly watching you stammer over your words nervously, your eyes moving from him to the wall as you start to unconsciously hold his hand tighter. 

“but if you don’t want me to or think it’s a stupid idea, i won’t. i just...wanted to make sure it was okay with you.” 

you don’t see the way san sits there in contemplation as you’re too nervous and toying with the edge of the blanket, his face sympathetic but also a little surprised. 

there’s a lot of things that san is still getting used to, the way you’re so vulnerable and attached to him (in a way he doesn’t mind at all). 

but it’s like right now he’s seeing the severity of it, watching as a grown woman asks for his permission for something she absolutely doesn’t.

it makes tears burn the back of his eyes but he quickly pushes the sensation and desire away, his hand lifting your chin so you made his gaze head-on. 

“y/n...you don’t need my permission to do anything. you... you know that, right?”

your eyebrows pull together almost in confusion that he didn’t immediately respond with a yes or no, head cocked to that side as you lick over your lips nervously. 

he can’t help but think if this was a fault on his part. did he make you feel like you have to ask his permission or approval for things? did he maybe at any point make you feel scared or judged when he’s been doing his best to avoid that?

your harsh grip on his hand brings him back to the conclusion that, right now, this isn’t about him. 

whether he did that or not, he has to make sure right now that you know you’re your own person and don’t need to run decisions by him or anyone else. 

“baby, i think it’s great you wanna do that and will support whatever you wanna do. but you don’t have to ask for...my permission to do anything,” san tells you softly, his hand cupping your face as he presses a kiss to your head; the words ‘his permission’ even feel gross on his tongue.

“i’m happy if you’re happy. and if going to school will make you happy, i’m gonna be supportive 100%. you got it, love?” 

you don’t even know why you’re surprised by san’s reaction but it still brings tears to your eyes, only being able to nod before you bury your face in his chest. 

he bites back a smile at the feel of you against him, running his hand up your back to gently rest in your hair. 

“you still wanna study journalism?” he mumbles against your hair and again, you can only nod so you don’t let out the whimper threatening to leave you mouth.

because it still shocks you day after day that everyone in your life now truly seems to care. 

they remember things about you and want to see you smile, always remind you that you can do whatever you want and are slowly making you see that, maybe, you will be okay in the end. 

it may not seem like a lot to someone who’s been lucky enough to have these things but, for you, it’s something you haven’t ever had before.

the ability to giggle and smile and spend your night with someone who you can see really, truly loves you. who wouldn’t do anything to hurt you and always has your best interests in mind.

that’s exactly why when you fall asleep, san can’t help but turn to look at your sleeping form. he runs his hand through your messy hair, moving a strand from your face and feeling his heart lurch at how peaceful and innocent you look. 

he still can’t get the thoughts out of his heads from earlier, wondering if, maybe, this whole time, he hasn’t been doing the right thing. 

maybe these past few months, you should’ve been rebuilding your life on your own. he shouldn’t have been here every, single step of the way to sooth and coddle and protect you. 

it was something hongjoong said just a few weeks after you moved in and he nearly attacked the boy, asking how he could let you cry alone every night and feel lonely and scared in a new place?

but he also knows that hongjoong is more logical than him. he’s always let his emotions get to him, empathetic and caring almost to a fault. 

and with you, he was always even more clouded. 

now, though, he’s seeing that maybe hongjoong has a point. he’s seen it in the way you’ve become more clingy and dependent on him, something he loves and makes him feel warm but also knows, for you, is a part of feeling safe. 

and as hard as it is for him to admit, he knows you need to feel safe without him. slowly rebuild your own sense of self and security without him always being there to wipe your tears or kiss your face. 

but how is supposed to do that? he thinks, watching your sleeping face with a pained chest and burning eyes.

he’s about to get up to get a glass of water before he hears you whine, both his feet not even on the floor before even in your unconscious you can sense his departure. 

“going to get water, love, i’ll be right back,” he mumbles in your ear, kissing the side of your head when you still and roll back over. 

he gulps down the cool liquid before resting his head on the cold fridge, letting out a sigh as he realizes he may need to have another discussion with hongjoong.

even more so when he goes back into the room and sees your face, the slightest hint of discomfort in your pinched eyebrows and frowning lips. 

you turn back over when he crawls in the bed again, your head on his chest and arm wrapping around his stomach. 

he smiles upon hearing your sleepy voice call his name, dazed eyes staring up at him as he kisses the tip of your nose. 

“hi, baby. i’m back.” 

“i love you.”

the confession make his eyes widen and heart speed up, shocked into silence at those three, sudden words. 

because while it’s obvious that’s how you both feel for each other, your sweet touches and words exchanged since the moment you met one another, you two haven’t ever uttered that sentence. 

never put it out in the open and really discussed your feelings for one another. 

but your eyes are shut and breaths turn even before you can even hear his softly spoken, “i love you,” in return. 

and it’s because he loves you that he tells hongjoong about the thoughts he’s been having, wondering if he’s been doing the wrong thing the whole time and just making this transition harder for you. 

“i think you’re trying to make it easier because you love her and don’t wanna see her hurt anymore.” 

san’s eyes meet hongjoong’s across the dining room table at their house, a house san hasn’t slept or eaten at basically since you moved out; everyone knew where he was and they understood it completely but they also missed their friend’s presence. 

“but...she does need to learn to be on her own, san. she’s never done that before and she’s always been dependent on someone. luckily you’re just...so fucking good that it wouldn’t be a problem. but even with her asking you if she could go to school...she’s not okay, yet, san. she needs to sort her shit out.”

“i don’t want her to be alone,” the blonde admits, voice tight and eyes threatening to water. “i don’t want her to think i’m leaving her.”

“you’re not leaving her alone. you’re just not gonna be attached at the hip 24/7. it’s normal for couples to be apart. you still live and pay rent here, you know. everyone misses you.”

the sound of bickering and plates crashing promptly comes from the kitchen, mingi’s harsh yelp of wooyoung’s name causing a commotion of bickering to break out. 

hongjoong looks at san with a half pained, half amused expression, knowing that the dimpled boy  will have to readjust to how loud and chaotic the house is all the time. 

“you don’t have to do right now,” hongjoong says, wanting to finish the discussion before the boys notice san is here and lost their shit. “ease her into it. talk to her about it. see if she feels the same way. but let her know you just wanna help her, because i know you do, right?” 

san’s nod is immediate and hongjoong mirrors him, his eyes quickly widening as he looks over the blonde’s broad shoulder. 

he doesn’t even get to turn around before a slew of bodies bump into him, nearly knocking him onto the floor as six large, excited boys are jumping and squealing around him.

“san! you’re finally home!”

you’re nearly two months into your first semester of college by the time you’ve fully adjusted to your new schedule and pace of life.

classes monday, tuesday and thursdays mornings followed by your shift at the cafe during the afternoons. you miss your early morning regulars dearly and don’t know what to do with the 10+ memorized coffee orders still in your brain but you already love school so much. 

you love learning and talking with your professors and meeting the many different people on campus. you’ve even found a small group of friends, two girls who sat next to you and immediately started up a conversation with you.

you were terffied and shy at first but eventually opened up, giggling and sharing your thoughts with them before class started - you even always made sure to be 10 minutes early so you could get in your chats with them. 

unsurprisingly, san had been nothing but happy and supportive for the entire journey. helping you apply and become familiar with the campus while also assuring you everything was gonna work out. 

your days were busy and packed with work and you truly loved it but night was still your favorite. when san would walk through the door with take out or you’d be greeted with the sight of him waiting for you on the couch. 

it really felt as if your life was finally coming together, happy and at peace in a way you never felt before. it was like you finally had some sort of control over what happened to you, long gone the feeling of knots in your stomach or an uncontrollable shake in your hands. 

but when you notice san is a little more quiet than usual today, you feel that foreign feeling make it’s way back into your body. 

“is...everything okay?” you finally grow the confidence to ask, his hand absentmindley rubbing your leg that’s sprawled out on his lap. 

you can tell the question throws him off by the way he snaps his head up to look at you, brows pulled together and his head cocked cutely to the side as his eyes roam your face. 

“’course love, why do you ask?”

“i don’t know,” you hum softly, leaning the side of your head on the couch as you look at him. “i feel like you’re quiet today.”

“just thinking baby,” he tells you, tightening his hold on your leg before looking your way. “how were classes today?”

“good, i have to start my essay soon,” you tell him, something uneasy still pulling at your stomach; you’re not used to san being quiet or so lost in thought, usually the only time he’s silent is during a new episode of your shows.

“you’ll do great on it,” he says encouragingly, the hand on your leg gently calmingly rubbing your skin up and down. “you’re doing really good, you know that?” 

happiness fills you at the thought of making san proud, a small smile on your face that causes one his own to cross his face. his dimples poke out and it reminds you so much of your first meeting, when the sun reflected off of him and you just knew there was something too pure and good about this man.

“thank you,” you smile softly, a faint blush on your cheeks that has san’s heart breaking in his chest even more.

he doesn’t wanna have this conversation tonight but he thinks it would be the best time. bring up maybe not staying over every night to create some more space for you while also allowing you to be more independent. learning how to fill your time with things other than him.

but you’re so happy tonight. 

you’ve been so happy these past few months and he doesn’t wanna be the person to ruin that; it seems, though, you can see something behind his eyes and in his demeanor already, your body wiggling closer to him as your gaze shifts nervously. 

“are you sure you’re okay?” 

he lets out a sigh and you can’t help the way your stomach drops, watching carefully as his face turns contemplative and torn. like he wants to say something but isn’t sure if you’re gonna be able to handle it. 

and that alone is scaring the shit out of you. 

the silence is probably only fifteen seconds but it feels like hours, your eyes staring wide and heart starting to race as you look at him; you don’t know what you did but you had to have done something, right? he wouldn’t just act like this out of nowhere. 

“did i...do something wrong?” you ask meekly, that feeling of fear and panic you haven’t felt in almost a year creeping back. you almost forgot how debilitating this feeling is, fully consuming your body until you feel like you’re about to completely breakdown and crumble. 

the fear and concern on your face immediately makes him frown, shaking his head adamantly as he pulls you closer to him. 

“no, no, no, y/n, of course not,” he assures softly, his lips brushing against your head. 

you feel his calming breaths in your hair, like he already knows from the slight waver in your voice and look on your face that you’re getting worked up and anxious. 

the few moments of silence should make you more anxious but you can only focus on his breathing and the warmth from his body against you, trying to stay calm as you remember that this is san and he would never do or say anything to hurt you. 

“i’ve just been thinking about some things and i wanna talk to you about it,” san says, breaking the silence and immediately making your stomach flip nervously. “it’s nothing bad, baby, i just... you know i always have your best interest in mind, right?”

you swallow the lump growing in your throat as you turn to look at him, the soft look in his eye making you happy as much as it makes you sad. 

because while you love seeing it, how sweet and thoughtful and truly kind he is, you know it’s also there because he thinks you’re about to lose your shit. and you haven’t lost your shit in quite some time. 

“i-i know...” 

he takes your face in his hands when your eyes start to wander, the quiet hum leaving his mouth making you look up at him again. the look in his eyes truly stirs something in you, tears burning your eyes even though you’re not even sure why yet. 

“and you know i’ll never, ever hurt you?”

you nod again, feeling panic deep within your chest at where this conversation seems to be going.

“so what i’m about to suggest, i need you to hear me out, okay?”

he waits until you nod, his stomach sinking at the glossed over look in your eyes before he daringly opens his mouth again. 

tells you that he thinks you living on your own while you start a new chapter of your life will be a good thing for you both. that learning to be independent and on your own will help you immensely in this new part of your life. 

“you’ve been doing so good, y/n, and i’m so proud of you. you’ve started school and you work full time and you’re doing all the things you want to do. but we’re together all the time, baby, and i...i don’t know if that’s healthy, for either of us, you know?”

and you think to the average person, who hasn’t been abused and neglected and spent the last five years in normal, healthy circumstances, they would hear this and understand immediately. 

that being alone and learning how to be on your own is a good, healthy thing that everyone needs to experience. 

but all your brain can hear is he doesn’t wanna be with you anymore. 

he’s tired of your brokenness and tired of looking after you all the time and needs some space from you; and while, you suppose, you can’t blame him, it doesn’t hurt you any less. 

it doesn’t terrify you or upset you any less, even though you know his intentions are good; you can only feel unwanted and unworthy and like your time with someone so much better than you is up. 

“is it...i just...do you not like it here? with me?”

did you not keep it clean enough? did you not cook enough, were the meals too frequently takeout and leftovers? you remember jungkook hated that, demanding the house be spotless and dinner be ready and homemade. 

san would laugh at the question if this weren’t the current situation, a serious talk he’s been dreading having because he knows how you’re gonna take it at first. 

but he loves being here and that’s the problem. 

he would coddle you and love you and protect you for as long as you let him if it were up to him. but he knows that’s not what you need anymore, that you’re both not helping anyone if you continue to live your life in what became too comfortable and safe. 

you deserve comfortable and safe but you also deserve to live happily and freely by yourself. and maybe that’s not his decision to make, he often thinks, but he certainly doesn’t think he’s helping you by enabling you to depend on him. 

“baby, i love it here and i love you and i’ll never leave you until you tell me to,” san says, pressing a kiss to each cheek he prays tears don’t fall on in the next few minutes. “but i want you to be okay, love. i don’t want you to need me every night to sleep or think you need to ask my permission for things that are your choice.”

“is that- is that what this is about? that i asked you if i could go to school?” you ask meekly, the idea of talking back foreign but something you can’t control right now. “or is it because i’m in school?”

because maybe you’ve been too busy. maybe he feels like you neglected him. maybe he just wanted an out and this is it. 

“of course it’s not because you’re in school,” san says, slight outrage in his voice as you even suggest that; he always tries to control his responses to you, knowing you’re dealing with years worth of manipulative behavior and maltreatment, but sometimes it does also get to him. 

he was always supportive of your career and education, even when you were just friends and he admired you from afar.

“how could you think that?”

“because this is so random,” you squeak out, tears breaking through as the knot in your throat grows bigger. “i...i didn’t even know you were feeling this way and now you wanna stop seeing me.”

“i don’t wanna stop seeing you, y/n, when did i say that?” san asks, cocking his head to the side as he looks at you contemplatively. 

“you said you don’t want to be together all the time...” you mutter out, feeling stupid and childish but not yet truly understanding what he means. you guys don’t fight at all and you’re always smiling and laughing together - isn’t it okay to be together all the time if good things like that are happening?

“y/n, i love you, of course i wanna still see you. but i just mean...living together the way we have these past months. you’ve never been alone. you’ve always depended on someone, right?” 

you think back to your dysfunctional childhood, depending on alcoholic parents who never taught you how to fend for yourself until you fell into the arms of yet another abuser who you depended on even further.

restricted company and meals and communication, even restricted in what you could do outside the walls of your house. 

“yes,” you nod, sniffling as you wipe at a stray tear on your cheek. “but they’ve only ever hurt me. you never do.”

that fact makes san’s chest pang with hurt, his own eyes burning with tears now as he thinks about how much pain you’ve endured. 

“i know, baby, and i never will. but i think this’ll be good for us. good for you, mostly, that’s always my mian concern.” 

but you start to wonder how this could possibly be good the second the front door closes a few hours later, leaving you alone in your apartment that now feels far too cold and far too dark and far too empty. 

his lack of presence is noticable immediately and it doesn’t take long for panic and sadness and all that existential dread you once felt so deeply start to come on.

he doesn’t want you, nobody wants you, and the only people who did want you hurt you. 

it’s a mantra you repeat in your head as you cry silently, splashing your face with cold water after your puffy eyes can’t take it anymore. and when you get a good look at yourself in the mirror, tear-stained and blotchy and a big fucking mess, you can’t help but see that same girl who was trapped in that house with jungkook.

weak and afraid and horribly incapable of doing anything right. so similiar to the current state you’re in now, sinking down on the bathroom floor and crying into your hands again. 

this could be about san leaving, you know it has something to do with it, but you’re also crying because you now see just how badly you’re still effected by everything. 

you could be distracted by school and work and san but there’s still so much under the surface that you haven’t come to terms with. 

so much so to the point that even san had to step in and do something about it, him still seeing signs that you’re not okay despite how much everyone in your life is trying with you.

and it makes you feel bad that you have so many supportive, lovely people in your life but still can’t find it in you to feel okay. to not depend on one singlar blonde man to make you feel happy or act as if without him, you’re gonna break.

because you can see he’s tired of it. if he wasn’t, he wouldn’t have-

“y/n?” 

his voice coupled with his fist hitting the door causes you to jump, at first thinking it’s a bittersweet trick your deluded little mind is playing on you. but then he knocks again, his sweet murmur of “y/n, please open the door,” causing you to cry out again.

hongjoong told him not to go, that he’d barely been home for an hour before he was already itching to rush back to you. 

but he felt uneasy leaving the way he did in the first place, and then even more so when you didn’t answer his three messages and two facetime calls; he hated thinking that you were crying alone or feeling upset. 

and it’s heartbreakingly evident when you reach up to open the door, curled up on the floor in tears, that that’s exactly how you feel. 

“baby, no,” san hums lowly, immediately dropping to the floor so he can gather you in his lap.

it’s so much like the scene when you ran there after the final incident with jungkook, when you collapsed on the floor and finally told somebody about what you’d been going through. 

what happened?" he asks desperately, voice strained and wavering.

but you can only shake your head and cry. cry for how long you've been dealing with this alone and how you feel trapped and how if you don't tell someone tonight.

"he's gonna kill me," you sob out as you shake your head frantically now, "i-i he's gonna kill me," is all you can repeat through ragged breaths.

san can only act on instinct, sitting down cross-legged and holding his arms out slightly before you crash into him. he shakily inhales when your head rests on his shoulder, sobs muffled by his shirt as he feels tears promptly soak through the material.

but he can only sit there, hand on the back of your head as he rocks you soothingly in his lap back and forth.

he listens to your sobs with a broken heart, tears stinging his own eyes because he had suspected something was going on for months and just sat here and did nothing. and now here you are, broken and bruised and in fear for your life.

"i can't go back there," you cry out, "i-he's gonna-"

"no one is gonna hurt you, anymore," he mumbles lowly in your ear, "i'm not gonna let that happen."

“you’re- you’re gonna leave me,” you whimper into his shirt, the only sound in your bathroom for the past few minuets your crying and his soothing hums. “you’re not gonna wanna deal with me anymore and leave and then i’ll really be alone and i’m so-”

“i’m not going anywhere. i’m not gonna let that happen,” he mumbles in your ear, his arms wrapped tightly around you as he presses his lips to your head. he rocks you back and forth so similarly to that night, his hand running up and down your back as he tries to get you to calm down.

“we’re gonna get you help. real help. and we’ll all be here for you whenever you need us. you’re gonna be okay, my love.”

one year later:

you look back at the breakdown in your bathroom and are always surprised that you don’t feel embarrassed.

you think that was the moment when you finally realized how much you’d gone through and how much you really had to sort through. that you could distract yourself all you want and depend on san as much as you felt you needed but you still had things to work through. 

it took you about four therapist consultations to find the right one, eventually finding a sweet older woman who reminded you so much of your boss at the cafe. she listened to you and encouraged you and helped you find so much strength within yourself, you regret not taking your lawyer’s advice sooner about seeing a professional.

you still had bad days, of course, but now you’ve learned how to properly cope with them. cope with the stressors of everyday life, like the shouting of voices and the slamming of doors and san not being by your side 24/7. 

and san, little to your surprise, had done the right thing in saying you needed to learn to be independent.

it scared you at first, living alone and being alone with your thoughts and memories that tried to haunt you every chance they got. but now your life is so full of happy ones that it makes everything a little bit easier; you now love the freedom of living alone and have come to enjoy the peaceful silences of your apartment.

you now have so many things to laugh and feel happy about, like mingi and seonghwa’s obsession with gardening (even though they’ve moved on to vegetables now and have yet to combat the battle with squirrels eating their tomatoes). 

you have school and classes and friends that you made, making straight a’s while also balancing time with your study group, the boys and mrs. kim and your official boyfriend san. 

there are still some days when you wake up and feel a sinking feeling in your stomach that you think might be there forever, a certain smell or certain pain richoetting through your body that will remind you of what you went through and survived. 

but you know that you’ll be able to get through it, not only because you’re strong enough now but because you still have san to lean on - the boy in question currently with his arms wrapped tight around your waist and snoring down your neck. 

you can’t help the small smile on your face as you turn in his hold, your finger reaching out to trace the contours of his face. 

the warm, overwhelming feeling in your chest should scare you but it makes you feel even more happy and content with life, shutting your eyes immediately when his brown eyes meet yours. 

his loud chuckle fills the room before he lips attack your neck, quiet giggles leaving your mouth that only spur the blonde on more. 

“i saw that,” he mumbles playfully, smiling against your skin as your giggles get louder. “good morning, baby.” 

you pull back and smile at the boy staring down at you lovingly, the late-morning sun beaming through your window reminding you so much of the first time you saw him. 

heard his sweet, friendly voice that you immediately trusted and probably fell in love with right there.

"those are coming out really nice!" you hear a voice say from the yard next door. 

you shoot your head to the side to see a young man standing there, probably about your age, eyes kind and dimples poking out of his cheeks as he holds an overflowing white garbage bag.

your lips quirk up ever so slightly, probably being mistaken for your mouth twitching before you give him a tiny bow.

"thank you."

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