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obsessedwithceleste · 4 months

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Til It’s Gone

Theodore Nott x reader

Based on this cute lil request 🤗

Summary: It seemed like they’d always been there. An ever-growing thorn in Theodore’s side. He really didn’t realize what he’d had until it was gone. (Happy ending I swear)

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Theo let out a heavy sigh as he slumped into his seat, ignoring the cheery smile on your face as you turned to face him.

“Hi Theodore!” You chirped brightly, gaze landing on the tall brunette boy coming to sit next to you.

Salazar, here we go, Theo thought bitterly.

“Theo.”

“Right. Theo. How was your day?” You continued on, seemingly oblivious to his indifference as you scribbled mindlessly on your parchment.

Theodore wasn’t stupid. Quite the opposite in fact. He knew you liked him. That much you’d made rather obvious. Especially as of late. If saving him a seat everyday in this miserable class didn’t make it clear to everyone that you had a certain affection for the boy, then the notes dropped in his bag, or kisses blown from across the Great Hall certainly did.

The only reason Theo even accepted sitting next to you was because the seat was positioned perfectly to be just outside of Professor Binns’ field of vision, saving him the work of pretending to care about whatever topic the professor was rattling on about.

“I don’t see why you even put up with it all,” Mattheo often said. “Just reject them and move on with it.”

“Or at least stop sitting with them. You’re only encouraging them,” Enzo would add.

Yet, here he was, still sat lazily in the seat next to you. Theo didn’t particularly care that you fancied him to be quite honest. He’d gotten used to the same pattern of stoically ignoring your chatter, copying your carefully organized notes, and leaving. So long as you weren’t too annoying, he didn’t see the harm in sticking around. Besides it’s not like you weren’t easy on the eyes. And he supposed there was something to be said about the confidence with which you acted that set you apart from the general hoard of girls harboring similar feelings.

“Theo?”

Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts as he glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Fine.” He replied tersely before turning once more to stare blankly ahead.

He’d changed his mind. Absolutely not. This was horrible. At this point, Theo wasn’t even sure if you actually liked him, or were only claiming you did as an excuse to see how much you could embarrass him.

“Mate, this is getting to be Weaselette levels of weird,” Draco said as their group stared in horror at the third year who had approached them warily in the halls with a poem to read aloud in hand.

Theo visibly shuddered, remembering the awful valentine the youngest Weasley had sent Saint Potter a few years prior.

“Save everyone the embarrassment and walk away now, kid,” Draco told the boy. “Go on. Scram.”

The third year didn’t need to be told twice and quickly darted off, away from the group of Slytherin boys.

“It isn’t even 8am mate. Where does that girl get the time to do all this?” Enzo grumbles as they made their way into the Great Hall for breakfast.

Theo simply ignores his friend’s comments, something he was getting used to doing, as they all sat down at their usual table.

They’d all seemed to have an opinion on you as soon as it became apparent that you had developed a crush on him, and Theo had just about had enough of his friend’s seemingly endless comments regarding his not so secret admirer.

The familiar small parcel tied neatly with a white ribbon that sat waiting for Theodore in his usual spot didn’t go unnoticed, starting the whole thing up again.

“For Salazar’s sake Theo, do you not find it creepy?” Draco asks, eyeing the package.

Theo rolled his eyes at his dramatic friend.

“I don’t care. You all seem to be more interested in y/n’s little stunts than I am, and I’m the one they’re intended for. They’re harmless. Just leave it and they’ll probably get bored eventually.”

“Yeah, or they’ll just keep it up thinking you’re playing all hard to get or what not,” Mattheo snorts.

Theo just glares at his friend, stabbing a sausage with his fork. Just behind Matt’s head, seated at a table with your own friends, Theo sees you blow a kiss his way, winking cheekily.

“Aw, they growing on you? Who would’ve thought dark and broody would be into golden girl herself,” Mattheo teases, earning him a sharp kick from under the table.

“Morning Theodore,” you greet, as the brooding boy once again took his seat beside you, this time in potions.

“It’s Theo.”

“That’s what I said.”

You hear the boy let out a small snort and you smile to yourself. That was one of the biggest reactions you’d been able to get out of the boy.

Your friends often wondered why you so insistently pursued the grumpy Slytherin boy, despite his general apathy towards you, and honestly, it was as simple as the fact that you enjoyed the challenge.

It was like your own little game of cat and mouse. Constantly finding little ways to make the boy smile, even if he didn’t realize it was you. And the rush of excitement you got anytime you were able to elicit any sort of reaction from the boy was like a drug that kept you coming back for more.

You’d found that the best way to elicit such reactions was by staging little acts of public affection whether it be a kiss sent his way or an origami note perched on his desk. Each time, you could see the heat rise softly in the boy’s cheeks as he tried desperately to keep it at bay, sometimes even fighting back a small smile.

Today you had come to class a bit early in order to set up both you and Theo’s potion stations before the brown haired Slytherin arrived, taking extra care to gather enough ingredients for each of your potions. You weren’t even sure he realized that you were doing all this for him, but watching his satisfied smile as he brewed away made it worth it.

That was another thing you had grown to appreciate about the boy. While his friends were all rather light-minded and rowdy, his wit and level-headedness balanced out the group. Theo was smart, and didn't feel the need to make a point about it, flying under the radar of many of your classmates when it came to who had the best marks. Sure it was fun to tease the boy, but you also had a certain admiration for him that went deeper then the nonserious way you often conducted yourself around him.

The rest of the class passed in a sort of agreed upon silence as you worked on your potions. Of course you’d like to talk to Theo a bit, but you’d found he’d preferred the silence, usually not uttering more than a few words to you per class. It was something you could work on eventually you supposed.

“See you later Theodore,” you said brightly once you had finished gathering up your things. Joining your group of friends, you toss one last wave over your shoulder at the boy, smiling to yourself. He hadn’t bothered to correct you for once.

The last thing Theo expected while roaming the dusty shelves of the library was to hear his own name being whispered from deeper within the maze of books he was searching through. The library was where he went to escape his friend’s incessant gossip about the rest of the school’s population, yet he was interested in what was being said about him. He didn’t often venture outside his usual group of Slytherins, so he didn’t know exactly what he expected to hear.

Following the loud whispers, Theo stopped, looming in the shadows once he was able to make out the dark figures of students huddled in one of the many rows of books.

“Sure Theo might be one of the most attractive boys in our year, but his head is so far up his own arse, it’s a wonder he can see straight.” A voice practically snarled as its owner leaned lazily against one of the shelves.

Theo felt himself immediately tense. Is that what they thought now? His fists clenched as he refrained from crashing through the shelves to give these snots a piece of his mind.

“Honestly, being an arrogant prick isn’t something to be proud of. He’s just like every other Slytherin who makes being a pure blood their only personality trait.” Another voice adds.

“Oh fuck off you two.”

Theo’s ears perk up, surprised to hear your voice join the chatter.

“Please, like you’re one to talk y/n. You’re practically blinded by desperation. Theo Nott is an utter prat and he treats you like shit. Have some bloody self respect.”

“I’m not desperate, you git. And Theodore isn’t an arrogant prick. There’s nothing wrong with having a little bit of pride. It’s not like you see him going around bragging about how amazing he is. If you’re going to talk about arrogant pricks, talk about Cormac. Or Draco even.”

“Whatever. That still doesn’t excuse his behavior towards you. I don’t understand why you insist on embarrassing yourself when he clearly has no interest in you. But he’s too much of a coward to say anything.”

“Oh for the love of- Theodore doesn’t owe anyone anything. Me included. I do the things I do because I can and I want to, and quite frankly it isn’t anyone else’s business but my own. So why don’t you two get your heads out of your own arses and stop worrying about me, and stop worrying about Theodore.”

With that, Theo listened as your footsteps slowly got quieter as you stomped away, your words ringing in his head.

Theo had never been in love before. But in that moment, he was beginning to see the appeal. Fuck that was hot as hell.

For Theo, it all spiraled down from there as he finally began to see you. Really see you. And not just as some girl who had a silly crush on him.

It started with the notes. He hadn’t noticed before, but it wasn’t just him that you’d slip a note to in the hallway. After one particularly difficult transfiguration exam, Theo watched as you dropped a note with a chocolate candy attached into the bags of your friends.

Another day, he arrived to potions early to find you carefully setting up his station as he hovered in the doorway. After class, he didn’t rush out like he normally would and instead watched as you quietly slipped an extra copy of your notes to a student he knew struggled with the class.

And while you weren’t exactly blowing kisses to all of your friends across the Great Hall, Theo began to notice the way you didn’t hesitate to throw your arms around your friends, hugging them tightly when you got excited. Or grasping onto a hand as you wandered through Hogsmeade, arms swinging in carefree bliss.

It was about a month after Theo had begun his silent observations that he began to feel it. The slow pull away as your presence began to fade from his life. He almost didn’t notice at first. It had been about a week since he’d last found a note in his bag, or parcel waiting for him on his seat. You still smiled brightly at him if your eyes met from across the Great Hall, but now that he thought about it, Theo couldn’t remember the last time you’d blown a kiss his way.

It all came to a head the day Theo walked into History of Magic to see one of your friends sitting next to you in his usual seat, chattering away.

“Nice mate, they finally get the message?” Mattheo asks with a grin, elbowing him in the ribs.

Theo remained silent as he followed his friend to a seat in the back, eyes not leaving the spot where he should be sitting.

It continued on like this for what Theo thought was eternity. Salazar he missed you. Weeks passed filled with sleepless nights where he would stare at the ceiling contemplating where he had gone wrong. At the very beginning really, he thought dryly, remembering his initial feelings of agitation and annoyance. He wished he could go back and give himself a good smack upside the head.

The day Theo passed you in the hall and you didn’t even spare him a passing glance was the day Theo finally broke.

“Lorenzo.” He said, slamming the door of their dormitory open, startling his roommate.

“Theodore?”

Theo glares at the use of the name.

“You’re the romantic type. How do I do it?” Theo asked as he stomped his way over to his bed.

With a bemused look, Enzo swings around to look at his roommate, wondering if one of the ghosts had somehow possessed him.

“You want to know. How to do romance?” Enzo asks slowly, not fully believing he’d heard his friend correctly. Theo was probably one of the most emotionally detached people he’d ever met.

“Yes. Y/n. I want to make it up to her.”

"I thought we didn't like her?" Enzo said, growing more concerned for his friend's mental state by the minute.

"We didn't. But now we do, and I want to make things right."

Enzo blinked. Oh this was not going to be easy.

As you sat in the court yard with a group of your friends, textbooks in hand as you attempted to study for the charms test the next day, your eyes flickered momentarily as a sea of green wandered by. Quickly you look away before your eyes could meet Theo’s and you try to turn your attention back to your friend’s idle chatter.

It had been what? A month since you’d stopped actively seeking out the boy’s attention. Maybe more. And you missed him. His sarcastic smiles and pretty eyes that seemed to be fixed in a permanent glare.

But you were also tired. Mostly tired of the snarky comments. “Have some self respect.” “So desperate.” The voices of your classmates echoed in your head, and eventually you began to draw back. You knew he’d noticed. You’d seen his eyebrows furrow in confusion that day you’d let your friend sit beside you in class. A pang of guilt washing over you. But it’s not like he showed any signs of wanting things to go back to the way they were. So you simply stayed away. Maybe that’s what he’d wanted all along.

Your thoughts followed you as you eventually made your way back to your dormitory, wanting nothing more than to wrap yourself up in a warm blanket and disappear. As you approach your bed however, you make out something that definitely wasn’t there when you’d left that morning. A gorgeous bouquet of little white flowers wrapped in thick brown paper, tied off with a silky emerald green ribbon. Stamped on the corner of one of the brown folds, the letters TN shown at you in gold curls.

“Oh those are beautiful!” Your roommate gasps when she sees the flowers. “Lily of the valley! Those can symbolize renewal ya know. Usually they’re given as like, an apology of sorts, or if someone wants to start over.” She tells you. Ever the herbology buff. “Who are they from?”

A smile grows on your lips as her words sink in and you press the flowers close to your chest.

“Just a special friend,” you reply.

After all the months of Theo's coldness towards you, you'd never quite allowed yourself to truly believe the boy would ever return your affection, but maybe things were beginning to look up.

Over the course of the next several days, you begin to notice little things that had Theodore’s name written all over them.

After the charms exam the following day, you find a note of encouragement written in Theo’s familiar scrawl dropped in your bag along with a bag of your favorite toffees. How he’d managed to get it there without you noticing was beyond you.

There were little things too. Your stations in herbology and astronomy were always set up and waiting for you when you walked into class. The book on ancient runes that you’d been searching for showed up on your bedside table. (You weren’t sure how he was doing that either, but you weren’t about to question it.) And there always seemed to be a comfortable smirk on Theodore’s face whenever your eyes wandered over to where he sat with his friends, eyes seemingly boring into you.

Now, you sat quietly in your own little nook of the library, quill in hand as you scribbled away at your ancient runes essay, the book Theo left you being quite helpful.

You were happy he'd found his way back into your life, happier still that he was actually making a point to be included in your life.

“You don’t mind do you?” A voice asks, startling you and causing ink to splatter against the parchment.

With shocked eyes, you look up to see Theodore standing next your table as if your thoughts had summoned him there. He sets his books down, frowning at your now ruined paper.

With a flick of his wand, the mess is gone.

“Sorry bout that,” he mutters, sitting down across from you.

You blink, not entirely convinced you’re not hallucinating.

“You know, I remember you being much more talkative,” he says, a sly smirk reaching across his face as you realize you’ve yet to say anything to the boy.

“I remember you being significantly less talkative,” you blurt out before quickly covering your mouth with your hand in horror.

To your relief, the boy in front of you lets out a low laugh.

"Fair enough. See you've been liking the book," he says, gesturing towards the open text.

"Oh yeah, I've been meaning to say something, thank you."

"Don't worry bout it. I never said thank you for all the things you did. Probably should've." He replies, looking down as he pulls out his own quill and parchment. "I am sorry by the way."

"For?" You ask, head tilting to the side in curiosity.

"Everything. Or for doing nothing is probably more accurate," he says, flipping open his text book.

You can tell that he's nervous as he fidgets with the corners of the book's pages, and you desperately want to ease the tension between the two of you.

A moment of silence passes between the two of you as you debate whether or not to say anything more, or go back to your essay. Finally, you look up at the boy that you had been chasing after for all these months, and remind yourself that he had actually been the one to go through all the trouble of seeking you out tonight.

Gathering your courage, you open your mouth to speak. "Theodore?"

"Yes, Bella?" he replies, eyes carefully following the lines of next.

"Would you like to join me in Hogsmeade this weekend?"

His eyes snap up at this, and you see the familiar hint of red make it's way into his cheeks once more.

"Only if I can have my seat back in History of Magic." The boy replies.

"I think I can have that arranged."

Hi hi hi! I hope this lives up to all of your hopes and dreams, anon 🫶🏽

#slytherin boys #harry potter universe #slytherin #theodore nott #lorenzo berkshire #matteo riddle #mattheo riddle #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theo nott x y/n #Theo Nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theodore nott fanfiction #theo nott fanfiction #Spotify

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elliereject · 3 months

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ifhy .1

* in which ellie’s obsession relationship with you begins to sour as your romance with your new boyfriend seems to flourish. it seems she’ll stop at nothing to ensure your happiness, (which you’ll find with her, obviously) even if it means hurting you in the process.

* lowkey obsessive ellie, (I LIKE EM’ A LITTLE CRAZY!), angst + comfort (next chapter(s), infidelity, unrequited feelings yet also mutual pining (just read it like, idk idk I forgot how to do these),lmk if I missed anything!

* im back, ok not really this has been rotting in my drafts forever and I was reading it back and I was like damn I lowk cooked with this. It’s unfinished as of RN but this is only 1/3 of the fic im just splitting it up so u don’t have to wait months,,for it..like my other fics..DONT ASK ME ABT THOSE, cuz I don’t got an answer. IN THE MEAN TIME ENJOY THIS! <3

* mdni (but like if u do wtvr, nothing crazy happens in this chapter)

wc ~ 1.6k

pt. 2 here

Ellie Williams fucking hated you.

Surprisingly, she didn’t at first. In fact, she was in love with you, bordering infatuation.

She had seen you for the first time at the local bookstore before the semester started, you were flipping through a book about time and relativity with a concentrated look on your face. She smiled to herself when she saw you push up onto your toes to reach for another book but to no avail. She took this as an opportunity to walk up to you and reach over your head to grab it, making sure to flex her lean, tattooed arm before placing it in your hand.

Her jade eyes locked on yours and your face heated immediately, you mumbled a “Thank you.” Before scurrying past her to the checkout.

Imagine her surprise when on the first day of classes, she walks into her astrophysics course and sees you, doodling in your notebook with that same concentrated look on your face.

Of course, she sits next to you, flashing that charming smile that has sweat gathering at your hands. She tells you her name then asks for yours and learns about your major, favourite course, and how you’re staying in a little apartment just outside the campus before more students and your professor filed in. You didn’t know why but you just felt so comfortable telling her things, She laughed at your corny jokes and made even cornier ones, and she admired the doodles that covered your notebook and the little duck pen you used.

You didn’t want to speak too soon, but it was safe to say you were harbouring a tiny bit of a crush on her.

Ellie on the other hand, was completely ready to admit it. She felt her love for you grow each second she was around you. Your smile quite literally felt like the sun shining upon her, your laugh made her want to drop her studies of space to pick up stand-up comedy just so she could make it her job to make you laugh. In her eyes, everything you did was perfect. Her thoughts were completely consumed by you, you, you.

And for a few months, things were amazing! You had been introduced to Dina and Jesse and even spent Halloween hanging out with the trio watching horror movies and eating each other's weight in candy. When the holidays rolled around you and Ellie, along with the others, cozied up under some blankets and made fun of cheesy Hallmark movies while she tried her hardest not to interlock her hands with yours even after your pinky brushed against hers for the sixth time.

During finals, Ellie and you organized designated study days that usually ended in giggling at stupid memes on each other's phones or late-night food runs. Of course, there were lingering touches and flirtatious glances here and there but you were too shy to act on it and Ellie would rather die than make you uncomfortable so she kept you just at arm's length. Besides, she knew you were too timid to approach anyone else, so in a way she had you all to herself.

Then, you met him. Some motherfucker whose name she didn’t care to remember. However, she did remember the innate feeling of anger that surged through her body when you gushed to her about him and how he was a history major and the way his glasses framed his face perfectly and whatever the fuck else you found interesting about him.

She nodded and laughed and smiled along with you when you would drone on about him but would excuse herself to the bathroom to tend to the crescent-shaped wounds in her palms from digging her fingers into them so hard.

She tried her best to not show these negative emotions to you because she knew how much you didn’t like when she got mad but fuck was it hard. Especially that one night when you were out with him and you hadn’t replied to her texts in over 5 hours. Man did her drywall take some damage that night.

And when you finally did reply you had completely disregarded her message and went on to boast about the time you had and how gentlemanly he was. All she could do was reply with a dry “sounds like fun🙂” before she went back to throwing a tantrum around her room and tormenting that poor wall…she’d have to remember to buy some spackle before the end of the semester.

Then, there was the time she trekked over to your apartment with some pizza for a surprise movie night and saw the bouquet placed in front of your door. She set the box down to pick up the flowers and read who it was from, her body reacted before she could rethink. She tore the flowers from the beautifully wrapped packaging and stomped on them over and over and over until all that was left were broken stems and tattered petals.

Thankfully, you got home just a few minutes later and missed her outburst. You gasped when you saw the smashed flowers and asked her what had happened, she shrugged and lied easily, claiming it was like this when she got there. She let out a breath when you shook your head and sighed, saying it was probably your next-door neighbor who had always been a bit of a grouch.

She had genuinely thought she was doing a pretty good job of hiding her true feelings for both you and him but it was when you gleefully announced that he was officially your boyfriend she knew she was done for. You squealed and pulled her in for a hug but it felt like her heart had shriveled up into a clump of black coal and woosh like magic, her love for you had turned into something twisted, something possessive.

It was when you invited her over to your apartment to eat dinner with him that she had started considering the idea that you knew she had a crush on you and you were just fucking with her emotions for fun.

How could you start dating, let alone seeing some random ass motherfucker when she was right here! She knew she could treat you better than he could even dream of, she knew everything about you and she’d make it known to you how perfect she was for you, one way or another.

That night at dinner she sat uncomfortably as you fluttered around your tiny kitchen, adding last-minute touches to the spaghetti you made and despite the grumble in her tummy it felt like she had no appetite when she watched the hungry way he looked at you, as if you were a juicy steak and he was a starved wolf.

Once you were finished plating the food and placing it on the table you sat down eagerly and tried your best to mediate the obvious tension.

“Soo uh, Ellie, you’ve been really into watercolour recently right?” You beamed.

“Uh-huh.” She said dryly, twirling her spaghetti around her fork.

“Oh that’s cool, you know watercolour as an art form has been around since Egyptian times! It’s funny to think that like—Cleopatra was painting with water and grapes or something!” He spoke and you giggled like it was the funniest joke in the world. She shot you a look that said really? because she knows she could make a joke that was way funnier, and would expel your real laugh.

“That’s cool. You know how to shut the fuck up?” She mumbled into her bite of spaghetti.

“Sorry?” He asked and you gave her a sideways glance.

She smiled tightly and swallowed before answering, “Just said that’s cool!”

Dinner dragged on as he droned about the history of the Renaissance or fucking Christopher Columbus, she didn’t actually know, she tuned him out. After you cleared the plates, you ushered them into your cozy living room for a movie and when you excused yourself to the bathroom she plopped down on the couch next to him, subtly pulling out her switchblade.

“So, Kevin—“

“Actually my name—“

“I don’t give a fuck what your name is, matter fact I don’t give a fuck about you in general. What are your intentions with ★?”

The man tensed up as Ellie expertly spun the blade around in her fingers.

“Uh—I mean, she seems cool and dating her has been pr—“

“Cool?” Ellie scoffed, “She’s fucking perfect, and I hope you know whatever you have going on with her right now? It won’t last. Soon she’s gonna see you for the limp-ass motherfucker you are.”

He was taken aback, “What?—I’m sorry, did I do something to offend you?”

“Your whole existence offends me.” She rasped, inching her blade closer to his neck. “She’s not meant to be with you.”

He furrowed his brows, “You like her, don’t you?”

Ellie rolled her eyes, “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.”

Before he could reply you were back from the bathroom and she slipped her blade back into her pocket and got up with a firm grip on his shoulder.

“What were you two talking about?” You asked as you grabbed a bag of chips from your small coffee table and tore into them.

“Oh you know, girl talk.” She smiled, digging her blunt nails into his shoulder. Translation: don’t say a fucking word.

You rolled your eyes playfully like you even had a clue of what was going on, “He’s not a girl, dumbass.”

She shrugged, stepping away from her previous seat to plop down on the other small sofa.

The rest of the night proceeded relatively smoothly, your boyfriend had been so shaken up by Ellie’s words that even with you sitting next to him he kept his distance with worried glances toward Ellie now and then. Ellie crunched on her popcorn happily and watched the movie with a satisfied smile and a chipper aura.

— ★

🤔 shall I put out the second part? only time (and interactivity! 💝 pls don’t let this flop) will tell!

#ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie angst #ellie au #ellie fic #ellie fluff #ellie smut #ellie x reader #jealousellie #tlou fanfiction #tlou

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hollyhomburg · 10 months

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Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

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

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

W/c: 12.9k

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

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

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

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

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

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

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

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

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

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Now if you could only stop crying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I’ve got you.

~-~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alpha's are so funny.

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

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

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

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

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

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

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

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

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

Always.

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

As for the pack…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

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

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

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

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

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

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

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

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

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

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

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I never expected the pups to unionize

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

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

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

What would you recommend?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You're so fucking tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

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

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

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook is not a monster.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

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

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

And you below them, an afterthought.

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

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

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

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

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

You're just so tired.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook thought you knew that.

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

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

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

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

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

Oh fuck that.

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

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

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jungkook What the hell-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

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Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

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faeriekit · 5 months

Text

Health and Hybrids (XVIII)👽👻💚

[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and the prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]

PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREE is here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here PART EIGHT is here PART NINE is here PART TEN is here PART ELEVEN is here PART TWELVE is here PART THIRTEEN is here PART FOURTEEN is here PART FIFTEEN is here PART SIXTEEN is here PART SEVENTEEN is here..welcome to eighteen..

💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts (now featuring mediocre mouseover translations, only available on a computer)

Where we last left off... Uh... *checks notes* UH... *flips frantically*...listen my laptop exploded and I lost the original version of this chapter gimme a break. I think it was the oatmeal ch. last off.

Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my nonexistent attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.

💚👻👽👻💚

So. Danny is halfway through his squeeze this, please exercises where he has a grippy thing the doctors give him where he tries to squeeze this until they make calm noises again when something bursts through the door.

He’s so distracted that he drops his squeezing machine.

Everyone immediately gets terse and guarded— the lady who looks out for him the most actually pulls up in front of him? Like, protecting him? With her body?? It’s so far out of left field Danny has to wonder if they’re, like, keeping him for something important down the line instead of just treating him.

The doctors take shelter behind medical equipment where they can, but whatever the assailant is, it’s too fast for them to put up their defenses. For a second, Danny is instinctually scared— the doctor in the periwinkle scrubs sees him almost every day, changing out his bag and fussing with his lower half under his blankets. The doctor in green makes him do the hand stretches he doesn’t want to do and sit up so that he can do it more often again.

He’s used to them. He doesn't want that to change, or— Or for them to get hurt.

The blur darts through the doors and past the doctors and is definitely aimed at Danny, so when the lady catches it (with one hand??) and hauls it up out of reach of Danny’s cot, Danny’s relieved wheeze is genuine and emphatic. Ohgodthatwasscary.

On the other end of her arm is a teenager. A teenager in a…red…outfit, probably, unless he really likes gray and Danny’s eyes are actually working normally for once. Gray hair. Some kind of face, presumably.

The teen’s legs keep spinning until he realizes how caught he is. Then he goes completely limp in defeat.

“Cild Lihting se þridda,” the lady scolds, not unlike how Danny’s heard Vlad scold his cat for throwing paperwork off his desk. “Hwæt eart eow dydest?”

“...Naþing ,” the teenager lies, badly, and it sounds so much like Nothing, mom, wasn’t me, that Danny can’t help but choke out a laugh.

It makes his chest muscles spasm and his throat sore, sure, but that’s not the point. The lady keeps scolding the teen she’s holding up midair, but the teen lights up at Danny’s choked out wheeze like the sun. Almost literally, actually— the green starts accumulating in Danny’s field of view as his body tries to compensate for whatever’s going on in the atmosphere around him.

The doctors slowly let down their improvised shields, fetching Danny’s lost grippy tool (ugh) and putting it back in his hand (UGH). Danny gives one, pathetic squeeze of the tool, and then decides to visibly languish, because this sucks, obviously. The fact that no one can sympathize with his struggle isn’t new. Just watch him go limp about it.

The next time the lady and the teen stop making scolding and scolded noises, Danny looks over; the teenager has been, apparently, wrangled into a hair net and face mask. Okay. So it’s not that Danny is off limits then— or maybe he is, but either way, it’s more about getting people into the right gear than about keeping them away from him. Once the teen’s been sprayed down with something that smells absolutely gross, forcibly gloved, and dropped unceremoniously onto the ground, the teen is back on his feet and hollering as he leaves the lady behind. “Þancie eow!!”

“Slaw, lytel Lihting!”

Slow, Danny understands, parsing out the weird words as they reach him. Lytel might as well mean little. This sucks. He can never tell if he’s right when he guesses, and he just gets lucky when people understand him back, or whether people are pretending to understand him more than they actually do. Lighting is a weird nickname for a kid though.

—And then the teen is a foot away from his face and babbling at top speed, entirely at ease with their proximity and hands moving a mile a minute, and Danny has not been losing enough time for that to be anything other than either magic or a superpower.

Oh, his brain corrects. The word clicks into place. Lightning.

It’s probably some kind of magic, Danny’s guessing, because as he’s absolutely flabbergasted that someone is leaning into his face and trying to engage him that talk that isn’t happening, his ghost sense flares with a backwash of OMGHIHELLO!!MIS/SEDYOUMISSED//YOUPLAYING?? that. Uh. Is very…a lot? Very intense??

Very…welcoming?

The lady who minds him but isn’t a doctor sighs, picks the teenager up by the waist (??) and sets him a whole foot back. The teen doesn’t even stop chattering, his aura flaring alongside a story Danny is definitely missing, but not unappreciative of.

He throws something onto Danny’s bed. Danny drops the grippy tool in order to grab it, to the doctor’s verbal dismay.

But.

Like Danny’s model shuttle, which never leaves his side, the thing on his bed is Danny’s. This is Danny’s weird, flimsy, squishy toy.

The teen practically vibrates with pride.

…Okay, then. He’s kind of confused, but like. You know. He’s not against this.

Danny picks the squishy, blue thing in his trembling fingers and shakes it around without any sense of fine motor control, and the thing leaps out of his fingers and lands on the floor pretty much instantaneously.

It makes a weird suction noise. Danny peeks over the bed to find it sitting upright, stuck to the floor.

The teen responds by throwing even more colorful, oddly-shaped toys on the bed.

Danny knows enough about doctors to know that there were probably structured plans on how Danny was supposed to spend his time on specific exercises to target specific muscles and stretch specific parts of his hands, but the teen sits at his bedside and plays with toys Danny doesn’t remember with him, and no one stops them at all.

It’s nice.

For about an hour, until Danny truly tires, it's almost…normal.

#Medical team: CAN YOU WRANGLE THE TEENAGER??#Diana: yes of course—#Bart: Whee! :D *items crash*#Medical (sheltering in place): CAN YOU WRANGLE HIM HARDER???#health and hybrids #danny phantom #dp x dc #dpxdc #dcxdp #tw gore #tw medical #tw body horror #dcu crossover #incarceration to elopement to healthcare pipeline

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staytiny-dreams · 19 days

Text

dating streamer! beomgyu (c.bg x reader)

pairing: choi beomgyu x gn! reader

genre: streamer! au, fluff, tiny bit of angst but not really

warnings: some parts focus on covid-19 pandemic if that's a trigger for you, i think that's all but lemme know if you think i missed anything

wc: 3.4k

note: so tired at 3am i accidentally hit the post button when it wasn't ready so if you've already seen this, no you haven't. i'm unsure how it turned out so let me know, i've also never formatted it like this before so any feedback on that lemme know too, and... look forward to the other members versions <33

squeals leave beomgyu as the tension rises, the anticipation of the jumpscare he knows is coming getting the better of him

the chat speeds by

“i thought you were supposed to be good at horror games”

“what happened to beomgyu has no fear”

“we told you you should play fnaf beomie!”

“took you this long to play fnaf?”

beomgyu whines at all the ‘i told you so’ comments

“come on guyssss im so late to this how am i supposed to know you’d be interest-” he cuts himself off with a guttural scream as freddy finally makes his long awaited appearance

seeing the bamtoris laughing at him in the comments he pouts at them

“chat you distracted me okay, i let my guard down because of you!”

his pc pings with a notification and the text to speech reads out “themarcotoyourpolo says ‘HAH you are such a liar beom you would’ve screamed either way’”

when beomgyu was seventeen, he spent his time like every other teenage boy did

playing video games

but sometimes his best friend would come over and he’d pull himself away for a few hours

only to sit with you and watch streamers play other games

honestly you didn't mind when beomgyu played games when you were over

he was entertaining to watch

really entertaining actually

“hey gyu, don't you think you’d be a good streamer?” you suggested one day jokingly.

you both giggled at the little game of ‘yes and’ that followed, planning out an entire future together where beomgyu was rich and famous, and you lived in a mansion together that was just a haven for video games and your friends, but after your little tangent, the thought was dismissed as quickly as it came.

or so you had thought.

a week later, sitting across from each other at the cheapest your favourite restaurant in town, beomgyu brought it back up again.

“do you really think i’d make a good streamer?”

“why are you actually thinking about it?” you snorted, taking a sip of your water thinking he was joking again, but when beomgyu didn't say anything you tilted your head up at him.

“oh shit are you actually thinking about it?” beomgyu gave a noncommittal shrug and picked at his food, staring down at his plate. he refused to look at you until you knocked the table in front of his plate lightly.

“beomie,” you started as he stared at you with wide eyes, “i could watch you play for hours.” you don't think you could ever forget the way his smile took over his face at your words.

and that led to the next few months spent with you and beomgyu on call for hours a day

playing mostly minecraft together although occasionally he’d branch out to other games

you hit all his milestones together

he still remembers the day you first got a double digit view count

excitement flooded through the both of you as the kind soul who raided you spams your comment section

the same day, beomgyu also hit ten followers, prompting you two to make his discord server

whenever you were too busy to join him on stream beomgyu would whine and complain like his life depended on it

more often than not he’d actually end up cancelling the stream for that day

one day you didn't feel well but you decided to sit on call with beomgyu while he streams so that he wouldn't cancel

beomgyu chattered on as he normally does, yelling about how, “beomgyu never dies,” but he noticed that today you were not reciprocating that same energy.

in fact you had been so quiet that he wasn't even sure you were still alive on the other side.

“(y/n)ie are you alive over there? (y/n)? marco?” he asked and ever so faintly he heard a weak ‘polo’ sound throughout his headphones.

“one moment, chat,” he said to his 20 something viewers before deafening on discord and muting his mic.

he wriggled his phone out from where it hid in his pocket, opened your contact and called you. it dialled almost four times before you picked up.

“i’m so sorry, beomie i fell asleep. i really didn't mean to but i-” he cut you off before you could go on.

“are you okay (y/n)ie?”

“to be honest beom, i don't feel very well i-” cutting you off again, beomgyu announced that he would be coming over to cure you before promptly hanging up and ending stream leaving both you and his chatters confused.

turns out, curing you meant bringing you his mothers soup and watching youtube in bed with you until you fell asleep. your burning forehead left patches of sweat on his chest, but he couldn't find it in him to care.

from then on you had a system in place where you would check if the other was still there by calling out “marco”

and if the other person was okay they’d call back “polo”

sometimes you regretted this system on days beomgyu decided you were too quiet and abused the marco-polo system by continually calling out marco like a broken record

a little while after beomgyu turned eighteen, the pandemic started and so followed lockdown

it was a really hard time for beomgyu

you were supposed to be starting college together that year, along with your close friends from high school soobin and taehyun

but now all classes were online and he wasn't allowed to see any of his friends

going from seeing you everyday to never took a toll on beomgyu that he didn't expect

he just hated knowing you were only a few streets away and he couldn't just walk over to you whenever he felt like it

beomie :>: are you looking at the moon rn and wondering if i’m also looking at the moon rn?

ynnie <3: beom we called for six hours today

beomie :>: i know right, i miss you too :((

ynnie <3: omg fine get back on disc lets watch a movie

but with his ray of sunshine by his side, he eventually found his footing in this apocalypse

a lot of his time was spent on call with you

working on your respective assignments

watching your online lectures on 2x speed

any other free time was spent streaming

since everyone was stuck at home, due to his frequent streaming schedule

and infectious energy

beomgyu’s audience quickly grew

going from 1000 followers when lockdown had started to hitting 3000 followers within a few months

taking your advice, he also became more active on his other social medias

even posting clips of his streams on tiktok

a few of which went viral causing his channel to grow substantially again

he also started a youtube channel for those shorter games

or ideas that required more editing to execute than a stream would allow

one day, while checking his twitter dms his eyes almost fell out of his skull

he dialled you immediately

“(y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n) (y/n)!”

you took a deep breath in, prepared to repeat his name back to him in the same tone, but you didn't get the chance.

“do not copy me, we do not have time for that, this is a code blue, (y/n), code blue!”

“what on earth is a code blue?”

“big creator dmed me (y/n), come on, we’ve discussed this!”

“we’ve never discussed a code system in our entire life.”

“what that is such a lie, you just never listen to a word i say!”

“well sorry beomgyu if you talk so much nonsense that it's hard to keep up,”

“nonsense? you take that back!” he screeched, but you could only giggle at him.

“i will literally never do that. come on gyu, what’s the code blue?”

“oh, yeah! j-hope messaged me (y/n). he asked if i wanted to join his friends' discord and play among us with them.” you squealed for him, excitement rushing through you.

“oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! beomgyu, what did you say?” suddenly beomgyu felt sheepish, realising he’d just been sitting there with the message open, too busy bickering with you to have responded.

“oh um… well, nothing yet i called you first…” now this time you screeched.

“you left 20 million youtube subscribers, 1.5 million twitch followers jung ho-seok on seen? beomgyu!” you scolded. beomgyu didn't know whether to be afraid or laugh, but his endearment got the better of him and he burst into giggles at your tone.

“don't laugh at me mister, text him back right now and tell him you’d be honoured to play with them!” and as he began to type out a reply to his senior, all beomgyu could think about was how he couldn't wait to have you in his arms again.

joining such big creators in playing among us put beomgyu in contact with even more big creators and had his channel blowing up

he met many new friends including someone who would become one of his closest friends

huening kai

as covid restrictions were eased and tightened again, beomgyu made sure to see you any time he could

but due to social distancing laws, he wasn't able to tackle you in his affection the way he wished

at the end of 2020 the second wave of covid set in

your anxious mother decided that you were not allowed to leave the house until the pandemic was over

beomgyu struggled with this news

his weekly outings walking six feet away from you - but still with you - were helping him hold on to his ray of sunshine

but with your assurance that you'd spend even more time on call with him and watch all his streams, he was able to keep his mood-maker demeanour in front of his fans

“so what are your plans for valentine’s day, (y/n)?” beomgyu asked, already knowing your answer.

with february 14th approaching, beomgyu was kicking himself for not having said anything sooner because your mother still wasn't letting you out of the house and beomgyu wanted to say what he had to say in person

“what do you mean gyu? you know i’ll still be stuck at home.”

“hm… well, maybe we could do a minecraft date, like a valentine's day special.” he suggested tentatively.

“like for your stream?” you asked and he shrugged.

“we don't have to stream.”

“but beom, aren't our friends all having dinner at soobin’s that day? don't you want to join them?” you reminded him and he simply shrugged again.

“don’t want to leave you all alone on valentines day (y/n)ie.” your face felt hot. you loved your mother to pieces, but sometimes her self imposed covid restrictions really got on your nerves.

and then march came, and for the first time in twelve years you feared you wouldn't be able to spend beomgyu’s birthday with him

“mum please, i’ll do anything,” you begged, “legally four people are allowed at an indoor private gathering.”

“and what if someone there has covid (y/n)? you have asthma it could really affect you!”

“it’s only going to be gyu, soobin and taehyun. you know all of them, you trust them! plus we’re all going to test before we go!”

“and what about transport, (y/n), what if you catch it on the bus?”

“i’ll take a taxi.”

“and what if the taxi driver has it? or what if you get in the car with a bad driver or a kidnapper?”

“mum! where is all this coming from? please. it’s beomgyu’s birthday, i can't miss beomgyu’s birthday. i swear i will never ask to go out again. just please let me go see him tomorrow.” tears welled up in your eyes. you hated fighting with your mother, but you couldn't let beomgyu down like that.

but the fight was all worth it when you knocked on soobin’s door the next night and beomgyu opened it.

he pulled you inside and slammed the door shut before squeezing you tight to his chest.

“you're here?” he asked, voice muffled as it was buried in your shoulder.

“happy birthday beom,” you smiled, arms tight around his stomach.

he pulled away from your hug and before you could joke about how your mother would never let you see the light of day again, beomgyu pulled down your mask and pressed his lips to yours.

two seconds passed where you stood still, wide eyed in shock before you registered what was happening and jumped into action.

one of his hands still held your mask, and the other came down to your cheek which you’re sure must’ve been burning him from how hot your face felt. you followed his lead, grabbing his shoulder with one hand and pushing your other through the hair at the bottom of his neck.

too soon, beomgyu pulled away, resting his forehead against yours.

“i’m sorry (y/n). i wanted to wait, until after lockdown, i wanted to talk to you first but i saw you and i just-”

“i love you beomgyu.” you cut off his rambling and he let out a flustered laugh.

“i love you too (y/n), i love you so much.”

due to covid still ongoing and your mother’s strict rules, you and beomgyu decided to take things slow after that night

there were no more meetings in person as you kept your promise to your mother

nothing much in your relationship with beomgyu changed due to your agreement to take things slow

he flirted a little here and there but there were no new pet names or anything of the sort

beomgyu continued to focus his energy on streaming and you continued to focus on your studies

beomgyu’s streams always providing the perfect background noise

but don't tell him that you don't devote a thousand percent of your attention to him at all times

luckily as 2022 approached, your mother began to let beomgyu visit your home provided he wore a mask in common places and if he had any symptoms he did not come over

and in april 2022 most legal restrictions were lifted

with your second booster vaccination, your mother lifted your house arrest

it had been over a year since you confessed your feelings to each other and your 20th birthday approached

you both had a big discussion about giving your relationship a real try

beomgyu now had almost half a million followers on twitch

after grinding for two years, he now had a rather large fan base

you expressed that you were a bit worried about having your relationship public to them

beomgyu didn't quite understand your concern as you had been participating in his streams and been a prevalent figure on his social media since the beginning

however, respecting your wishes, you both worked to keep the romantic nature of your relationship between yourselves and your close friends.

while beomgyu seemed to have found his schtick after 3 years of streaming

playing horror games on stream and co-op games with you for his youtube channel

and the occasional vlog

the friends he had made playing among us, huening kai, ho-seok and jungkook had begged him to join a minecraft server and stream with them

so with your encouragement

and his conditions that his partner and best friends also join the server

beomgyu joined the bighit smp started by kim namjoon

it was only a few months after you officially started dating

just before his 21st birthday and both of your fourth and final years in college

when beomgyu came to you with his proposition

“move in together?”

“is it too soon? i know we've only technically been dating a few months, but-” you cut beomgyu off with a hand on his mouth.

he stared at you wide eyed for a split second before his expression changed. luckily, you recognised the suspicious sparkle in his eye and removed your hand from his face before he could lick it, leaving him pouting at you.

“don’t look at me like that,” you giggled but his pout only deepened and he reached over to grab the hand that was previously on his face.

“so? what do you think? you wanna live with me?”

“hmm… i think…”

“(y/n)…” he whined, dragging out your name.

“i think we’ll need to find a place with an extra bedroom, so you can stream in there and not in our room.”

living with a horror streamer

most days of the week it's fun

a substantial income

your boyfriend’s always home

your boyfriend is practically fearless… in theory

okay maybe he’s only fearless when it’s fictional media

even a little bit of clout, not that it matters to you

as you always have, you tend to join beomgyu and your other friends when they play minecraft in the bighit smp

as well as being in all of beomgyu’s vlogs

since you moved in together, you decided it was best to come clean to bamtoris (his fans) about your relationship

they were very supportive

due to your presence in his channel from the beginning, there were some long time shippers who were more than pleased to hear this news

and maybe a little cocky, plastering ‘i told you’ so posts all over their socials

yes, the beomy/n truthers were very pleased

of course there were those who were convinced he was dating other streamers

or those who shipped him with his other friends, soobin and taehyun

and just general psychos who simply hated you because he wasn't dating them

nevertheless you both saw the relationship reveal as a success

so sometimes you go and sit with beomgyu while he streams, just as you used to sit on call with him

but this particular wednesday night was a tough one

you’d been up late the night before working on your final project for college

then worked from 7 to 5 even though you were originally rostered for only 7 to 12

your head was pounding

and tonight, despite the soundproofing you had installed on the walls of the office

his shouts still reached your tired ears and made your head ache

you tossed and turned for a while, not wanting to ask beomgyu to quiet down as he was clearly having fun

but, after an hour of not being able to sleep you decided you were being stupid

beomgyu would never be upset with you for not feeling well

so you rolled out of bed, padded over to his door and knocked lightly, then cracked the door open

the light from the hall spilled into the room and caused beomgyu to look over at you with a smile

his hair was fluffy and his face was lit up by his screen and his purple leds and he just looked so soft

and before you could say anything, your face crumpled

and a few tears slipped down your cheeks

immediately muting his mic, beomgyu threw his headphones off and ran over to you at the door.

“baby, what’s wrong?” he asked, pulling you into his arms and you laughed at yourself.

“sorry, this is so stupid, i dont even know why im crying.” you mumble into his chest.

that night beomgyu ended his stream early and laid in bed with his arms wrapped tightly around you, whispering how much he loves you

and how whenever you wanted him to be quiet or even end stream he’d do it in a heartbeat

but, if you're not sick, busy or streaming with beomgyu, you're still watching his streams

and sending silly comments

you are simultaneously his favourite and least favourite chatter

your comments always make him laugh but are often at his expense

“themarcotoyourpolo says ‘poor baby, so scared of a big teddy bear’”

“you know what (y/n), get your ass in here, we'll put the headphones on you and see how confident you are then!”

but knowing you're in his chat has always given him comfort

and made him a smidge happier to be there

if beomgyu ever had zero viewers it'd be because you died and he knew that

even then if you ever wanted him to turn his computer off and hang out with you, he’d come running

at the end of the day, whether beomgyu’s screaming at his computer screen or peacefully cooking dinner with you, he is the love of your life and you wouldnt change a thing

#choi beomgyu #beomgyu x reader #tomorrow x together #txt x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #streamer! beomgyu #txt #dedicated to my 25 followers <3 #look forward to the other members #if ur sneaky enough to look through this tags #ive planned an entire series #streamer!au #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu x you #i hope you enjoy

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strwberri-milk · 7 months

Note

Hi hi! May I request Childe, Heizou, and Wriothesley (add anyone else if you want) with an Author!Reader who usually writes crime/detective, mystery, and horror? Reader is sometimes stressed and sleep deprived because of this and their writing space is a mess with papers everywhere too.

It's okay if you won't do this one! ^^

Childe absolutely finds it fascinating. He doesn't have too much time in between work to really dedicate to reading the books you've written but he does his best. He's got copies of your books lining the shelves in his office and when people ask he tells them they're yours and that he strongly recommends the books himself.

Sometimes, you shyly approach him to ask for some details that only he could provide to help make your books just a bit more realistic. It makes him very happy to hear that you need his help and when you show him the parts that he helped with he can't help but specifically mark those pages off to read over and over again, fascinated by how you turn his loose explanations into insightful prose.

He doesn't mind the mess you leave behind when working - in fact he likes to rifle through it - but he does hate how stressed and tired you are. No matter how often he finds you passed out in your work he'll always take care to put you in bed and clean you off so you can rest. He won't leave you alone which means you're forced to rest, falling asleep against his chest.

Heizou didn't realise he was a casual fan of your books until after you told him that you wrote some of the books he's got on his shelf. You were just making a simple observation, not wanting to keep your occupation a secret nor make a big deal out of it but he took the opportunity to pull down the most memorable one and ask you some questions he remembers having while reading the book.

He likes to pop in whenever you're really struggling on a scene, wanting to offer up his expertise whenever you find yourself in a particular difficult situation in your writing. You can hand off sections of your manuscript to him and he's more than happy to read through the pages. Most often he points out any discrepancies he can personally find and helps reconcile them when he can.

The two of you often end up accidentally spending the night working on your projects, trying to keep each other awake or trying to convince the other person to go to sleep. You both try to work in organised chaos so he's familiar with how to stack your papers before you fall asleep to prevent ruining your workflow. You try to complain that you've got too much to do but he won't take any of it, shoving you back into bed playfully to make sure you manage to sleep.

Wriothesley likes to come down from the day with his tea, snacks, and a nice book in hand. It just so happens he was recommended for your book and he recognised the pen name you said that you use when writing. Without telling you, he quickly finishes the book and starts on another, finding himself thoroughly excited to work his way through your work.

You like watching the people in the prison, finding inspiration from the passing stores people tell you or just things you happen to over hear. You've got a lot of little notes sitting around of things you might want to expand on but for now, you're never lacking inspiration.

He also loves watching you work. It's always fun for him to try and make sense of all the paper you leave around. It's like some sort of puzzle he work on as you ramble to him about some ideas you've got for the continuing of your story - something he also listens to very intently.

Whenever it looks like you're about to pass out due to exhaustion or stress he simply removes you from your work site. He'll make sure you've got something to eat or drink before tucking you into bed no matter what you tell him. He'll remind you you can't do your best work if your mind is distracted and your body is starving and considering how assertive he can be there's not much you can do, but you also don't mind.

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #heizou x reader #wriothesley x reader #childe z reader #ajax x reader #tartaglia x reader

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waldau · 7 months

Note

hi!! i really love the way you write for wonwoo♡♡♡ could i request wonwoo+friends to lovers(something like she fell first but he fell harder kinda trope?)

thank you so much anon! also you're my first ever request! i hope i did this trope justice, because as much as i love established relationships i don't think i've ever really done much for friends to lovers.

crush — jeon wonwoo | 2,193 words | fluff

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

it hits wonwoo like a sledgehammer.

he's glad he's already sitting in his usual seat at the table, because there probably couldn't be a worse time to realize he's in love with you. when you're out on a date with someone else, and when these dates look like they're going to become a steady fixture in your life; something that he's going to have to learn how to make peace with.

wonwoo doesn't just love you. he's in love with you, and he's grappling with the realization of how many months he's missed without knowing the extent of his own feelings for you.

he wishes there was some manual that told him what to do when you had feelings for your roommate. when said roommate happened to be your best friend you'd try to ask out if you weren't so afraid of ruining the friendship.

since the end of high school and the beginning of college, wonwoo's always had you by his side — whether it be in the same classes, or the same friend group — hell, he's lost count of the number of nights you spent together, watching movies instead of trying to get some sleep for the next day.

(maybe there was a reason why he chose horror movies sometimes, even though you were scared of them.)

he thinks back to all the times your friends joked you were practically dating — that never annoyed him. he was merely surprised at the idea of dating you. you had always been his best friend; nothing more. you were a constant fixture in his life that he didn't see in any other way.

but now? wonwoo wishes he could turn back time and see what could have happened. would you have had the same inside jokes you do now, the same ease that comes with learning to co-exist by carving each other's shapes into your lives?

he looks up from his laptop at the sound of the wind rattling the windows. but he's the only one home.

you're out on your second date in the past two weeks with this guy named seungcheol. for the past two weeks, wonwoo hasn't been able to put a finger on why he hasn't been so keen on this guy you're seeing, despite the fact that seungcheol sounds like nothing but a gentleman.

and now he knows why.

he's heard a lot about how funny and smart and nice seungcheol is, from taking you to your favourite restaurant for a date to leaving you at your doorstep at the end of your night out.

wonwoo wants to argue that he, too, does the same thing for you. he holds doors open for you and gives you his beanie when you're cold and lets you have his popcorn when yours is done, but you just don't see him that way. and he doesn't know what to do to make you see him that way.

he focuses on his laptop again. the words all seem jumbled, and he's pretty sure he's been on the same page for the past half hour. so he takes his glasses off and lets his eyes rest. only to remember the time you took his glasses off when he was almost about to fall asleep on the sofa.

you're loving. it's something he's learned from you. you're always looking out for others, always concerned, wanting them to know you're there in the subtlest ways possible.

wonwoo always wants you around, and now has an irrational worry that he won't have you for much longer. his heart starts hurting — really, physically hurting, like a deep pain in his chest that can't be satiated by anything. he didn't know it was possible, but it's all he can feel right now.

he tries to think about anything else. those few people he'd dated back in college, whose names he can't even remember now. he hasn't dated anyone in the past two years since you graduated, got a job and moved into this flat together.

wonwoo hadn't known what to expect when it came to living with you, because as much as you were best friends, you'd never shared a living space together beyond a night's time. now over the course of the last twenty five months, he's become accustomed to you, and he's afraid he's ruined it all by realizing he's fallen in love with you far too late.

part of that is definitely your fault, he reasons. he wouldn't blame seungcheol for falling in love, either.

the thought of you on your date hurts him enough that he picks up his pen and scratches something on the notepad lying next to his laptop. his strokes are harsh and drawn without care, but when he stops, it's a rough sketch of your favourite flowers.

he lets out a bitter laugh. everything always circles back to you, in the end.

you don't ask for anything on your birthday, but wonwoo always gets you a bouquet of your favourite flowers alongside your gifts, because he knows how much you love them.

he wonders if seungcheol knows they're your favourite.

he's shaken out of his thoughts when you open the door to your shared house and step inside, almost tiptoeing, like you're afraid of making noise. you freeze when you see him looking at you. he wonders how long he's been sitting there, mind blank but also filled with thoughts of you. it's eating him up like a slow poison from the inside, but he forces himself to hold your gaze.

you look amazing. more than that, you look happy.

he's not jealous. he's never jealous when you're happy. but he just wants you to be happy with him, and he doesn't know if he's enough.

he wants to know what it'd be like to take you out. he wants to know everything that makes you smile, because he still learns something new about you almost every day. he wants to know what it's like to hold hands with you, kiss you goodnight, and wake up every morning knowing you're there by his side and his side only.

he wants more than he can possibly have.

"hey, wonwoo," you say, shutting the door behind you before you take off your shoes. "couldn't sleep?"

"no. i wanted to wait till you came back."

you frown at him. "i told you not to."

as if he could ever do that. whether you go out on dates, or to parties with your friends, wonwoo can't relax till he knows you're back home, safe. he just shrugs. this is one thing he'll always be stubborn about.

"did you have dinner?" you ask, ruffling his hair and moving past him to presumably fix yourself a snack before you go to bed.

"yeah," he says, looking back at the laptop. the letters are still jumbled, so he cleans his glasses before putting them back on. "unless last night's pizza doesn't count."

"that's a lot of words for no," you say. "are instant noodles okay?"

"of course."

wonwoo watches as you move around, putting back today afternoon's dried dishes into their respective places and filling a glass of water for yourself.

"did you have fun tonight?"

"yeah," you say, a smile on your face. "cheol picked out this movie i've been wanting to watch for a while. then we went to this hole-in-the-wall cafe that was surprisingly nice. and then he dropped me home."

wonwoo tries not to react at the nickname you already have for him. he's not jealous, but it's getting harder to convince himself of that. he looks at your jacket. it looks...not quite your style.

"is that new?" he asks, pointing at it.

"what? oh, this? seungcheol asked me to return it to him the next time. it was pretty cold today."

wonwoo's hand crumples the note before he realizes. next time? why couldn't he have realized how much he loved you before all of this had to happen?

"you okay?" you ask, turning around to look at him. "come here and tell me if it tastes fine."

"it's just instant noodles," he pretends to grumble, but waits for you to feed him some. he can see you're a bit tired. he wishes you'd fall asleep on him, the way you do when you're stubborn enough to want to keep him company with whatever he's doing.

"tastes good," he hums, licking his lips.

did he just imagine your eyes looking at them before they moved back to his face?

"great. hand me those bowls from there?"

you using him for his height is a running joke he hopes never gets old. wonwoo takes out the cutlery too, but stops when he sees an angry red line on your hand.

"what happened to you?" he asks, holding your hand so he can see it clearly. he tries not to think about how much bigger his hand is. the cut isn't bleeding, but it's still there, starkly visible against your skin.

you hesitate. "i'm not sure. i remember my hand hit something in the cafe, but i didn't see it till now."

"and you didn't bother checking it once you got home?"

you look at him. "i didn't even feel it that much, woo."

"you could have tetanus for all you know!"

"it's just a cut! it's hardly that ser—"

you stop talking when wonwoo switches on the tap and turns off the stove. "take this off," he says, pointing to the jacket. it shouldn't even be in your home. he shouldn't be feeling like this in the first place.

you comply wordlessly, hand limp in his as he washes it thoroughly, before patting it dry with the towel near the sink and finding a bandaid in the cabinet above. you have a propensity for getting hurt randomly and wonwoo's glad to be prepared.

"done," he says, letting go of your hand. you're still looking at him.

"kiss it better?" you ask. there's a mischievous look in your eyes.

and who is he to refuse? he takes your hand back, gently pressing a kiss to it, making sure it's not too forceful. when your eyes meet again, he gets the feeling there's something in the air. even you seem to be aware of it. it's like the tipping point before the scales lose their balance, like the calm before the storm; it's now or never.

"one more time?" you ask, moving a bit closer. wonwoo swears he forgets how to breathe. and he definitely isn't imagining your eyes on his lips this time.

"always," he says, before he leans down to press his lips to yours.

it's magic. there's no other word for it. wonwoo feels like he's transcending worlds when he feels your lips against his, trying to press yourself into him when you wrap your hands around his waist.

when you pull apart, wonwoo swears you're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen in his life. this is what he wants, and he'll be damned if he doesn't try to find out what could have been.

"please don't go out with him again?"

"...what?"

wonwoo swallows, letting go of your hand. his bravery now comes and goes like waves on the seashore, tides threatening to spill out everything he feels about you in one careless motion.

"i don't want you to go out with him again."

"because...we kissed?"

"because i'd never let you get hurt if you were with me."

"you...what?"

"i like you," he says, taking a step closer. "i don't know what that meant to you, but i like you so much, and i hate that it took me this long to realize it. i want...i want you to give me a chance."

"you like me?" you ask, voice smaller than before.

he nods. "i want to...take you out on a date. wherever you want. i want to make you laugh. it's been killing me, thinking about you with him."

"oh, my god," you say, burying your face in your hands. wonwoo's heart drops. "why would you— i've been trying to get over you all this while, going out on dates with him so i can stop thinking about you that way, and now you're just...giving me what i've always wanted?

wonwoo feels like he's been drenched in ice-cold water. "you like me?" he parrots. he doesn't know what to do with his hands, so he pulls you in for a hug. even this simple gesture suddenly feels like a brand new thing in the light of your recent confessions.

your hands find their place around his waist again, your chin on his chest, looking up at him. "of course i do. i'm surprised you didn't realize earlier. it's been...a while."

this is news to him. "how long, exactly?"

you bow your head, not meeting his eyes, "i'm not telling you now."

"you can't hide anything from me, you know."

he can feel your smile against his chest. "i know. let me just have this for now?"

"forever."

you tighten your grip around his waist and just stand with him.

wonwoo makes a mental note to get you a bunch of real flowers.

#i'm not fully happy with this but i TRIED and i think pining wonwoo is so ^&*%$!@#also coups because he sort of crept into my bias line last week. what a man #jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #wonwoo #fluff #waldau writes #req #🍃 — svt

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itsonlydana · 3 months

Text

"passenger princess" | chapter six

the hobbit | a modern!AU by itsonlydana

❱ pairing: Thranduil x fem!reader

❱ wordcount: 4,9k

❱ summary: a horror movie, 'your dad jokes' and overcoming the fear of being vulnerable by opening up

❱ warnings: mature language

❱ an: we're back on schedule! Anyone got the reference with the documentary?🤭

general m.list + series m.list

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot - especially with longer projects <3

CHAPTER SIX: MOVIE

It was movie night and once again you found yourself sitting on the giant sofa, a glass of wine cradled between your hands as you watched Legolas and Aragorn argue over what to watch.

It was amusing, really, to simply sit back and observe how both completely missed the fact they could be on the same page if they weren't blinded by the urge to please the other.

While Legolas was trying his hardest to convince Aragorn you didn't have to watch another romcom and he would much rather try to understand that one French art film Aragorn studied in his poetry class, the brunette was keen on rewatching Mean Girls for Legolas.

They seemed to have forgotten you were there to be included in the discussion.

Feet burrowed into the cushions under you you sipped on the wine that Thranduil brought out to the pool two days ago.

Every sip brought the scent of sunscreen and the warm rays of sunshine back to you on this rainy evening.

Your gaze trailed to the floor-to-ceiling windows next to the sofa, right outside to where the pool was illuminated by lanterns and laid undisturbed except for the raindrops splattering onto the surface.

Thinking back to that day, you felt a heat creeping into your cheeks that not only came from the wine.

You had no idea what had been the push into the decision but when Thranduil had joined you in the pool, he had joined you. Not just sitting at the edge or watching you from the shadow of the terrace.

He'd come outside and immediately shed himself from his shirt and trousers, leaving you to a close death with every layer of fabric removed and every bit of light skin revealed.

You nearly had a heart attack at the sight of his upper body and the lean muscles you had known were there, but never had the pleasure –and oh, it truly was a fucking pleasure– to see in all their glory.

Thranduils shoulders were broad, yet fit his form and the adonis belt that accentuated his –must be said– slender waist.

The sentiment that no man his age should be allowed to be this good-looking extended to include all men or women no matter the age. It made little sense to you that this man looked like that at his age when you knew full well that he didn't exercise.

He had a body to fantasize about, and you gladly did.

"What do you say?" Aragorn called to you from the other end of the couch, where he was rubbing his temple, "Tell Legolas I really don't mind watching whatever he chooses."

"Oh, you remembered I'm still here?" you asked while Legolas gasped and clicked his tongue in annoyance, "Yes, but you shouldn't not mind, you should enjoy the movie as well!"

"Legolas, I mean it. It's alright if we watch Mean Girls!"

"Woah, pause!" you took another sip and swiped the air with the other hand. "You two have been so insufferable ever since you did it. Can we go back to pining but without all the.. you know, back bending for just a movie?"

It shut them up, maybe they thought you hadn't noticed them sneaking off together or whatever the reason was, you were glad for the momentary silence.

"Let's just do the 'surprise me' thingy and no one will be truly happy, alright?"

No idea when you'd become the voice of reason but both nodded in agreement, sparing shy smiles to each other that said more apologies than Legolas had ever given to you in words, for the evenings you had to watch his choice of movie.

Love could really change a person.

"Fine," Legolas threw his long legs into movement, walked to the cabinets next to the flatscreen, and grabbed the remote. "Next time we–"

"We'll have the same discussion over and over again," Aragorn added.

"You're disgusting," you pretended to gag, heaving your chest for dramatic effect, "Finishing each other's sentences is so cringe."

"Using cringe in a sentence is cringe."

"Shut up and dim the lights, Las. Please down to the level that's in your head, alright?" You smiled angelicly, cheeks hurting from the effort though it was all worth it at Legolas scowl when he tried to fish for a response but ended up silently muttering under his breath and turning the lights off.

Engulfed in near darkness you only saw his lanky figure reach for something on the incliner next to the sofa before a cushion flew toward you with a scarily accuracy.

Wouldn't you have leaned to the side because you wanted to place the glass onto the coffee table, there would've been an accident for sure.

"Legolas you fucking idiot," you swore, already grabbing the cushion that hit your back. "Do you want another wine-stain incident?"

The wine-stain-incident of last year went down in history as the biggest argument this house had ever seen.

Legolas and Thranduil had been arguing like never before, snapping at each other back and forth for days over red wine spilled over the newly bought designer sofa cushions.

It went so far that Legolas camped at your dorm for a whole weekend, clearing out your fridge and complaining that his Ada was up his ass for an accident he didn't even remember.

After three days of coming home from work and seeing Legolas sulk on your bed, the thing that pushed your patience over the edge had been one night when the blonde couldn't sleep and decided that your bed was big enough for him to cuddle you; big surprise: it wasn't.

Nothing was big enough in the tin can of a dorm.

"So what?" Legolas fell onto the sofa next to Aragorn, giving you plenty of space to spread out on your half, "I'm just gonna tell him it was you again. Nothing's gonna happen then."

"You're a wicked man, Las," Aragorn said. Legolas grinned.

You snorted. "Sure, if you want your ass handed to you. Don't think it's going to work twice."

"Oh no, it will." Legolas raised an eyebrow much similar to his father, "Just like last time his anger will go up in the smoke the second he sees you and then–" he cooed in a very over-the-top imitation of Thranduil, "–no no no, it's alright! I hated the sofa anyways.. what? It's new? Doesn't matter, I'll buy a new one, babe."

"He doesn't sound like that and it wasn't like that!" you complained.

It had been exactly like that.

"It kinda was," Aragorn chimed in and received a smile (Legolas) and an angry huff (you).

Legolas tapped away on the remote, lightning up the living room as the flatscreen showed the last thing that had been watched.

Some nature documentary that, in the small second Legolas gave you before opening up the streaming app, seemed to be about whales and crocodiles.

Thranduils taste in movies was everything Legolas didn't enjoy: docus with long biology conversations, silent black and white classics or, his guilty pleasure, fake jury shows where he would point out where they went wrong or how inaccurate the case was.

You adored how he would sit on the sofa wearing his slim glasses and pretend he wasn't interested in the drama at all.

"Alright," Legolas said and pressed a button for the random movie.

"By the way," you said hushed, "He doesn't call me babe. Your father calls me sweetheart or darling, which is completely different and so much more endearing in my opinion."

Aragorn let out a loud breath and leaned over to rub Legolas' shoulder. "Wow, that was basically a 'your mom' joke, although much more eloquent. Hope you're alright."

"He will survive," you waved off, "It's not like I told him how he–"

"No, I actually don't want to hear that!" Legolas interrupted you loudly and turned up the sound of the TV, shutting down every remark that could've followed by the loud boom that cracked through the surround system like thunder.

You didn't need to read the title of the movie, that the first scene was a first-person shot of someone running through the woods at night and the only sound was their breathing and the snapping of twigs was telling you exactly what you were in for.

"Sorry," Legolas said before you even opened your mouth, grinning over at you in the moonshine light of the movie, "No take backsies for any insults just because you don't wanna watch horror!"

"But–"

"No no, no buts."

"You're so mean," Aragorn said to Legolas, but nevertheless grabbed one of the blankets beside him and threw it toward you, "Here, to protect you from any murderers."

You stuck out your tongue at him and yanked the blanket over.

Horror, was by far, the worst outcome of the random selection.

Everything else would've been fine, hell, even a compilation of every time you'd embarrassed yourself in front of Thranduil could be an easier watch than an hour.. oh well two hours of jumpscares.

"You'll be fine," Legolas was already munching on the popcorn he'd prepared earlier, throwing the golden snack into his open mouth and –naturally– not missing a single piece.

It was infuriating how talented he was in some aspects.

"Just don't look to your left and imagine the killer's waiting for you behind the trees."

"I hate you so much."

As expected, the blanket provided little comfort as the movie progressed and whenever you glanced over to Aragorn and Legolas, you could see them whispering together, quietly laughing over the dumb decisions the main character made.

So unfair they had fun while you suffered.

The scenes got even worse the longer you watched, tension sharpening like the knives you saw on screen, flashing in and out as the killer sneaked through the woods. The wind outside as well as inside screamed like a boiling kettle, rattling as the storm picked up and hammered the wind against the window.

There were creaks and echoes everywhere.

Every hair on your body stood up, an electrifying rush of adrenalin cursing through your body and having you cling to the blanket in an attempt to shield yourself.

It came out of nowhere.

The sound of a door opening and immediately shutting close with a bang loud enough that you let out a scream like your life depended on it.

It led to Legolas joining in, yelling in surprise and as he turned around to stare into the dark kitchen, the popcorn flew everywhere.

There, looming in the doorframe was a tall figure, dripping water and looking extremely haunted by the white flashes of the screen illuminating long wet hair and hauntingly sharp cheekbones.

"Oh my fucking god.. fuck! Fuck this shit," you gasped for air, inhaling one breath after the other until you were nearly dizzy.

"Ada, you scared the shit out of us!" Legolas quickly let go of Aragorn, whom he'd jumped the second he'd heard your scream pierce the quiet room.

"My apologies," Thranduils deep rumble sounded.. off. Strained, like the lopsided smile on his lips. "That was not my intention." He looked around, pausing at you and for a second the look on his face seemed haunted. "Please, continue. I'll be upstairs and make sure not to bother you anymore."

"Thran–" you started and rose to bend over the back of the sofa.

He stopped in his movement, haltering to nod at you, "Hi, sweetheart, excuse me for scaring you like that. You look lovely, though." And then he was already stalking back to the hallway, his wet hair clinging to his equally drenched coat.

You turned to Legolas and Aragorn, your expression communicating the confusion you felt clearly by the look of their equally unsure faces.

"Ada?" Legolas called, not looking away from you, his eyebrows drawn together.

"Yes?"

"I may have spilled wine onto the new white carpet. It was some hours ago but maybe we can fix it?" Questioningly you inclined your head, close to asking him what the fuck he was talking about, when Thranduil answered:

"Oh, no worries," –your eyes widened– "It's fine. Let's talk later."

"Well," Legolas stated as soon as you heard Thranduil walk up the stairs. "Either someone kidnapped Ada and that's someone else, or he's calculating how to murder you two for practically living here at this point."

Aragorn, sensing that this wasn't the time to continue, paused the movie. Even he was frowning.

You fell back onto your bottom, eyes flickering back to the doorway in uncertainty. "So I didn't just hallucinate that? You noticed how weird he was?"

"So weird. Maybe something happened?" Aragorn mused and started picking up the popcorn Legolas had strewn all over the place.

"Maybe he finally realized I live here rent-free as well."

You and Aragorn looked at each other. You spoke up first: "Las, the way you inhale his snacks and wine he's just ignorant of the fact. Do you have any idea what's up with him?"

Legolas shrugged, throwing one of the popcorn pieces into his mouth again. "Not the slightest. Haven't seen him like that since.. oh–", he paused, grimacing like he tasted something sour.

"What?" Next to him, Aragorn took away another lint-covered popcorn before he could eat that as well.

Suddenly, Legolas seemed sheepish, his gaze scattering everywhere except you which you immediately noticed.

"Legolas, since when?"

"'S probably doesn't matter," he mumbled, his face turning a traitorous reddish shade that reached the top of his pointy ears.

"You're lying," you detected, not trying to hide the sharp edge in your voice. This was quickly escalating, moving far beyond a simple discussion over what movie to watch. "What's going on? He's never like that… at all. He looked like he'd run over someone!"

"Love," Aragorn tried softly, but you were already too busy staring at Legolas to notice.

"You really want to know?" Legolas asked, the blanket he and Aragorn were under clutched into his fists. "I'll tell you but don't, and I mean it, don't zero in on that. This could be different, like completely." After your nod and a look over his shoulder to check that Thranduil wasn't creeping through the hallway with an axe, he continued:

"Y'know my mother left him, right?"

As soon as he mentioned her, you grew wearily. "Yes–"

"So she left when I was still a baby, like no worries he's fine with it and I'm fine with it and we were alright. He kinda knew it would happen, she was around but never there. He was the one giving up half of his firm so that he could work less and mostly from home. She just.. didn't change at all and when she was gone, Ada wasn't surprised."

You knew the story, it was one of those things Legolas had shared with you under the confined comfort of the blanket of the night and his bed.

"Uhm.. yeah, I don't know how to tell you this but she came back once."

The world swayed, ripping open right in front of you and you felt yourself tumbling, one foot over the edge of that darkness this statement had dunked your head into.

"Oh," you said, immediately trying to shut down the feelings of unease and insecurity gnawing at your mind. "I mean, she's your mom?"

Legolas huffed, "Barely. Biologically yes, but even then one could argue I'm Ada's clone." He grew serious again, his long fingers tapping the arm he'd thrown over his middle, "T'was like what.. nine years.. ten years ago? I was in the kitchen doing my homework when the keys turned and some woman suddenly stood in front of me that I didn't recognize but knew who she was. I kinda screamed. Ada came and when he saw her, he looked just like he looked then."

You blinked, your breathing coming in a bit faster than what you would define as 'totally fine'.

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked for you. Thankfully, because you weren't sure what to say.

"He threw her out and called someone to change the locks," Legolas said and lifted his head to stare at you, "Ada told her to go to hell or he'll sue the living shit out of her for child abandonment and whatever dirt he would find. Yes, he had the same look on his face, yes he was so fucking weird and kind of apathetic but, and listen to me; this could be a whole other thing."

"Wha– what.." you started, stumbling even over that one word, "what if it's not? Maybe he changed his opinion over time."

"Sure," he rolled his eyes but dropped the sarcasm when it did not comfort you at all, "No seriously, believe me, he doesn't want her in his, my, or our life. Not then, not now, not when you two finally figured yourselves out."

While that helped just as much as throwing a single glass of water onto a giant campfire, you nodded and put on a mask of uninterest.

Simply because it was much easier than getting into a whole discussion over feelings that may or may not be out of place.

He could've simply had a bad day at work.

"Let's just continue?" you asked, nearly begged, and were glad when Legolas and Aragorn didn't say another word but started the movie again to fill the awkward silence.

Under the blankets, you were wired.

You'd known you should've let it rest, to leave Legolas alone and maybe if that story had stayed untold, the straw just waiting to be dropped, hadn't dropped to throw your mind into a frenzy that was based on a "what if" situation you had on your hands because of a single, small interaction.

Well, it stood out and didn't fit Thranduil at all, but should you really care that much?

As Legolas said, you and he hadn't even figured out what was going on, just that there was something you both wanted to pursue.

The movie didn't fade you the slightest after the conversation, the next minutes flew past you like they didn't happen at all and when you heard Thranduil come down the stairs and walk into the kitchen, you flew from the couch.

"Be right back," you muttered as you ducked past Legolas and Aragorn; the latter brushing his hand over yours to give it a gentle squeeze.

The momentum that led to you standing up in the first place left you at the sight of Thranduil's turned back, hunched over a plate of chocolate cake Legolas had bought while shopping for snacks.

He looked so weary and tired, deep worry lines indicating his age, still attractive and even more now that he had his hair up in a bun and wore sweatpants you'd never seen him in, but yes, exhaustion was written all over his face when he turned around.

"Hi," you shuffled around, making a lame hand movement that was neither a wave nor anything else, "Should I go? No forget that, of course I'll leave you alone. Never asked, alright? Bye—"

"Stay?"

The question was soft and almost overshadowed by the squeaks of fear coming from the TV.

"I…," you started, stammering but when Thranduil held out the plate and the cake he was still shoveling into his mouth in big bites, you agreed. "Of course."

You jumped onto the counter next to him, ignoring how the sight of sweatpants, gray slightly baggy but not baggy enough sweatpants!, up close messed up every single thought swarming around your head like busy bees.

He leaned back against the counter beside you, ankles crossed and his head thunked against one of the hanging cabinets on the wall.

For a while, all you did was let Thranduil feed you bites of the cake, taking every fork he held up to your mouth carefully and swallowing the questions you wanted to ask with it.

He ate as well, lifting one bite after the other to his lips in between feeding you and every time your eyes hung onto his plush mouth.

Not because his rosy lips looked especially enticing with chocolate cream smeared into their corners, but because of the indications of his teeth in them, in the raw bitten look of them that told you there was definitely something going on.

"Hey," you nudged your leg against his side, "do you want to talk about it?"

The sigh that left his throat sounded more like the groan of a pained animal, his Adams Apple bobbing as he swallowed another bite before placing the plate on the kitchen island.

"You don't have to," you followed up in a rush, not wanting to corner him or force him.

"I should." Thranduil kicked one foot against the counter and turned his head so he looked at you.

Sitting up there, you were close enough to reach over and, in a moment of spontaneity, wipe away the chocolate on his lips.

He caught your hand, pressing a quick kiss onto your palm and keeping it in his when he dropped them.

"Yes, I should absolutely tell you," he swallowed again, "you have a right to now as someone.. as someone important in my life." The way he talked and furrowed his eyebrows showed how much energy and willpower it took him to admit that.

It meant a lot that he tried and cared about the conversation about opening up and being there, being in.

"I got a call at work today that I didn't expect and I'm still unsure what to make of it." Thranduil's hand tightened ever so slightly. His teeth once again found their place in his lower lip, dragging it back and releasing it.

"A lawyer informed me Legolas' mother wants to talk to me."

The air left your body instantly, the sentence punching you into the gut with an iron fist that had 'shouldn't have asked' imprinted on it and marking you all over.

Thranduil noticed, of course, he did, and lifted your intertwined hands for another kiss onto your knuckles.

"I told them not to bother me again," he clarified fast, "Told them ten years ago, told them now."

"Legolas told me that happened," you admitted quietly and let your head fall on top of his shoulders.

"I hope he told you that I had never any interest in keeping contact or searching that woman. I respected her choice to step away from our lives; she expressed a reluctance to embrace motherhood, and I had no authority to impose that role on her if it brought genuine discontent."

"Yes, he said that as well to comfort me."

"And I presume it did not?" Thranduil spoke forward into the otherwise empty kitchen and you followed his words with your eyes, searching the tiled floor for the courage to jump over that damn river of worries that hindered you from opening up.

He did it as well, you thought, he said you had a right to know, that you were someone important in his life.

"No," you finally acquiesced, feet firmly planted onto the metaphorical ground.

"Not the slightest. There is this woman I don't know, the mother of my best friend and the ex-partner of this man I really like and she's a total mystery and suddenly I hear she tried contacting you a few years back and now again and my mind can't help but project that she would be a much better fit to you than me."

There was a pause as the words sunk in.

Then Thranduil turned, opening up your legs with his large hands and stepping in between them.

The dimmed kitchen lights made this intimate, tension there was none for the look in his eyes spoke more of worry and his hands placing themselves under your thighs to pull you closer with effortless strength acted more out of the need to hold you than anything sexual.

"Darling," Thranduil's face filled your entire vision, the impact of the worry etched into the darker circles under his eyes hitting you square into the heart. "I can follow that train of worry and this is not me dismissing it but rather me questioning myself and my actions. Have I given you a reason to believe you're not the only one I want to spend my time with? You alone roam through my house and my head and dreams as if you own them, no one else."

You shook your head and rested your free hand on his chest, splaying your entire palm on the crimson sweater he wore, "Never. But she's probably your age and I'm... well I'm not."

"That is true. She is my age and you are not. She's also– what did Legolas say ten years ago?" He thought back, "Ah yes," he tipped his head closer, leaning his forehead against yours, "No one important. No one worth a second thought. No one, and now those are my words, that would come between you and me."

Your hands wandered, trailing up his collarbone standing out, and up his cold throat.

The hairs you brushed on his neck were still slightly wet, curling at the bottom as they slowly dried. "Then why were you this worried?"

He paused, mirroring you and cupping your face in his warmed hands, "This plagued me for different reasons. A part of me feared you would get scared and I might lose you, and the other was circling the dumb idea that Legolas could be angry that I blocked her off."

"So it was stupid of me to be jealous," you exhaled a deep breath, feeling the heavy weight being lifted of your heart as Thranduil's thumb followed the curve of your jaw and chin.

"Feelings are never stupid, they are valid in every form as long as you don't single them out or ignore your mind. And for you, that's really important because you have a really clever mind." He tapped your temple with his pointer.

A laugh escaped you, easing up the tension. "We're getting good at this," you said and nuzzled your head into his palm, "y'know, talking."

"I do feel very wise right now," Thranduils voice was airy and light, falling into that usual banter you guys were so much better at.

"Mhm, must be the age."

Where his voice had been light, his chuckle was deep and throaty, the tone rasping over every word he spoke: "My age allows for exceptional knowledge in many areas."

If you had been a maid in earlier times, that statement would've caused you to faint and even now it brought a heavy blush to your face at the directness in it.

Because you neither knew what to answer nor to do, you lightheartedly shoved him away, and while you regretted not going in for a kiss, the euphoric feeling that spread through you as he chased behind you through the kitchen made up for it.

"Come on, Grandpa," you giggled, swatting away his arm as he reached for your middle, "Use your knowledge to protect this fair maiden from the movie we're watching."

Legolas's head turned just as you entered the living room, the skeptic look on his face morphing into an understanding smile when Thranduil followed close behind you.

"Fair maiden?" he snorted, "Please, as if."

"Shut up Las," you hit his head as you passed him, nearly hitting Aragorns chest as well and wow, when did they decide that showing their affection in front of Thranduil wouldn't lead to instant death?

You settled into the cushions again, pulling Thranduil next to you.

There was a passing look between Thranduil and Legolas, where Legolas raised an eyebrow daring his father to say anything, and then between Thranduil and Aragorn, where they both nodded at each other before turning away; Thranduil to you, Aragorn to Legolas.

It was so weird, your lips curled.

Then you realized the movie was paused, the screen showing the beginning rather than the middle where you'd left.

"Noo," you whined as realization hit you, "You didn't continue!"

"Why would we? It's so much funnier if you're crying and screaming," Legolas teased and you fired a look of pure hatred at him that he reflected with an angelic smile.

Next to you, Thranduil had made himself comfortable, long legs stretched out and one arm lifted onto the cushions, giving you an encouraging nod to come closer.

You followed the invitation, huddling closer until you were nearly glued to his side and, after drawing the blanket over the both of you, his arm found its place on your hip, fingertips lifting your shirt just enough for him to feel the warmth of your stomach under his spread palm.

"Don't worry," he whispered and his nose nudged the crown of your head, "I scream much louder watching these movies. Now, Legolas, know that after this movie you're in for spilling wine again and ruining the carpet!"

"Wasn't me." Legolas tipped his chin to the wine glass next to where you'd sat when Thranduil had come home instead of telling him that there was in fact no stain or no ruined carpet.

"Oh," Thranduil's hand started circling your stomach, causing the army of butterflies in there to fly high, "then don't worry, sweetheart. I hated it anyway, ugly color, so much white. I'll buy a new one in red if you like that color that much."

taglist [still open]: @mushroomemeralds, @mssuguru, @solartoge, @12134z03, @fruitymoonbeams-blog, @lady-of-imladris , @finallyforgotten , @123forgottherest @tomhockstetter7-111 @marshymallo @emily-roberts @howlerwolfmax

#📁files: passenger princess #thranduil x reader #lotr x reader #thranduil fanfiction #thranduil x you #the hobbit fanfiction #the hobbit x reader #lord of the rings fanfiction #king thranduil #thranduil #thranduil oropherion

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urmadiik · 5 months

Note

wait do u take requests? I have one if u do lolol :>>

Miles x childhoodbestfriend!fem!reader who, persuaded by miles, decide to watch a scary movie during a sleepover at his house. A really scary scene shows up and reader and miles scream and cuddle each other as they’re both under his blanket. This leads Rio and Jeff to walk into the room obviously concerned, but they (especially Rio) think to themselves about how cute the two of them are together lolol. Miles’s parents still scold him about putting on a scary movie, with Rio saying how he shouldn’t try to “scare her baby” lmao

I do !! Srry I didn’t make it clear (*^‿^*) , this idea is adorable

feel free to give me request !!

also srry it took so long for me to reply to this

disclaimers/warnings⚠️ !! : fluff, fem!reader x miles 1610, use of y/n, targeted towards black readers (but you can read if you’re still interested), can be platonic or romantic

— ★ 𝟑𝐚𝐦 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 ★ —

You and Miles had been the bestest of friends ever since he moved to the complex with his parents. You don’t really remember how you started being friends, only being able to recall small moments. However, you can remember the first time you too met.

It was early in the afternoon and as a treat, your mom decided to take you to the park. When you arrived, you scurried as fast as your little legs could carry you to the swing set, wood-chips crunching under your shoes. You sat down on the little swing, the metal chains shaking and wobbling as you sat. You tried to push yourself over and over again, failing miserably with each try. As you were about to get up and ask your mom to come push you, disappointed with your failed attempts, you felt a small hand on your back. It pushed you gently, becoming more forceful overtime. You soured up and down, the colorful beads and clips in your hair clanking together as you giggled and giggled.

As the swing slowed and the sun dimmed, you hopped off the swings and turned around to see a little boy around your age. He was a couple inches shorter than you, big chestnut eyes looking up at you. He looked unfamiliar, and that was very unusual to you since you knew almost every boy and girl in the area.

“Hi, I’m y/n !” You beamed, sticking out your hand for him to shake.

He glanced down at your hand and shook it hesitantly.

“ ‘M Miles” he said in a gentle voice, a tiny smile on his face making his freckled cheeks rise up.

Almost nine years since then, you and him had been attached by the hip. Even though you switched from loose twist and lazy slick back ponytails to box braids with curly ends touching you waist, your carefree and outspoken attitude warping to a more shy and stoic one, nothing much has changed. The only thing being different about Miles was that he was a little taller than you, teasing you about it every moment of the day he got just as your did all those years ago.

Currently, you and Miles were sitting on his bed. You on your phone and him sketching out something, the pencil lazyily gliding against the thick paper of his sketchbook.

“I’m boredddd” you groaned as you flopped down on the squishy bed, your body bouncing up and down almost rhythmically before it finally settled.

“Well what do you wanna do?” He glanced over at you

Suddenly, your eyes sparked with an idea. An idea he knew and was putting off for the longest.

“A scar-“ “no”

“Come onnn. Scary movies aren’t even scary, their more for the thrill of it, y’know?”

“Y/n, 27.2% horror movies are based on real life events.” stated, trying to sound smart.

You groaned, not in the mood for his little “fun facts of the day”. After 15 minutes straight of convincing, he let out a groan.

“What movie..?” He grumbled.

You couldn’t help but chuckle a little.

“The Conjuring” You said as you sat up and leaned against him, backs against the head board as he draped the fuzzy blanket over the two of you.

A couple minutes later, he seemed intrigued with the story. To you, it was just another horror movie with the same plot and you were honestly a little disappointed. Until it got to the jumpscare.

Your eyes were draping close and you were tuning out the dialogue of the movie. All of a sudden, you heard a loud, horrifying screech coming from the tv. You open your eyes and to your horror, a ghostly white face appeared on the screen.

You and Miles both screamed loudly. You couldn’t help but hold him tightly, trying your hardest not to look at the tv. You felt him embrace you back, putting his head on your shoulder.

Just then, you heard the door slam open. You felt the yellow hue of the hallway light shine on the two of you.

“Are you two alright?” His mother said, out of breath like she had ran. Jeff being right behind her, scanning the room.

“Mhm, just watching a movie.” Miles said quietly, still shivering slightly from the almost heart attack.

As Rio looked around the room, he saw exactly what was you two were screaming about.

“Miles, what did I tell you about watching these kind of movies?” She scoffed.

“That their the gateway to hell..” He said as he lowered his head and sighed, knowing his parents were disappointed in him.

“And what were you doing showing my baby that?” She scolded, gesturing to you.

“But mami she-“ ‘No buts Miles” Jeff said as he shook his head.

You just sat there, covering your mouth with a hand to try and hold in a laugh as Rio reached for the remote and turned off the tv.

“You two, go to bed. We’ll talk about this in the morning.” She said as she sucked her teeth and closed the door.

But she couldn’t help but think about how adorable the both of you looked cuddled up like that, getting a feeling of nostalgia as she reminisced all the times the two of you would cuddle up when you were little. How small you two were, how much you changed. As the thought crossed her mind she couldn't help but feel a tiny smirk on her face.

feel free to give feedback !! sorry it got a little lazy at the end

#across the spiderverse #miles morales #miles morales 1610 #earth 1610 miles morales x reader #black reader #fluff #miles 42 #miles morales earth 42 #miles morales prowler #miguel o'hara

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vivalarevolution · 2 years

Text

𝓜𝓸𝓿𝓲𝓮 𝓝𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽

Xavier Thorpe x Vampire Reader

Request: „Hii, could you do a one-shot with Xavier x Reader? I was thinking of friends to lovers, they're having a horror movie night, and in one of the films, two characters confess to each other when they're about to get killed. Xavier and reader start "hypothetically" talking about themselves in that situation and they end up confessing their feelings for each other.‟

A/N:Request from @starlight-poet . I hope you and others will like my work. Contains slight smut, minor do not interact. English isn't my native language , please be aware of mistakes.

Also, I decided to take inspiration from The Vampire Diaries when it comes to vampires, for me this adaptation is one of the best depictions of vampirism.

-Hello, stranger - the girl said, smiling as she walked inside.

-Well hello - replied the boy, letting her through the door, after a while closing it so that no one would disturb them.

The girl, having been in the brunette's room many times, easily found herself in it. Leaning onto the bed, she turned to look at the laptop beside her. On the desktop, she saw the titles of the movies they were supposed to watch today. Following each of them, she frowned, and after a moment she smiled gently at the boy.

-So, a marathon of horror movies, huh? - asked the teenager, leaning on the hand.

-Your favorite - he said, sitting down next to her.

-I'm glad you remember - she said, smiling sweetly.

-As if I could forget - he admitted, and Y/n gave him an even wider smile before taking a comfortable spot on the bed.

Xavier let her lie down on his chest, as was in his habit. For as long as he could remember, his vampire friend was clingy, but he only found out about it during the blossoming of their friendship, which developed unexpectedly considering the fact that they didn't play together well from the beginning, only to later become like two pieces of a puzzle ,connected to each other.

Girl was secretive and feisty. She often said things that would hurt, but Thorpe realized over time that it was her defensive instinct that she tested those around her and he was persistent enough to now look at a tender and caring version of Y/n who loved to laugh. And he loved listening to her.

-Why there is a couple in love in the slasher. This is not right film genre. I need a sea of blood, not kisses - the teenager grunted, thus waking the green-eyed boy from his thoughts.

His gaze was focused on her face, which was watching the movie in consternation and concentration, but he quickly moved it to the screen in front of him, wanting to understand what she was complaining about.

-Some people while on their deathbed want to tell others they care about them - he said, smiling slightly when she rolled her eyes.

The vampire got up from her current seat, standing nearby and clutching her heart.

-Xavier my love, we may not live to see the sunrise, but I want you to know that my heart belongs to you - Y/n said, trying to sound emotional, but then she burst out laughing.

Brunette shook his head, closing his eyes.

-We'll get out of this together, I promise you - he announced, playing along with her - I won't let you get hurt.

Teenager giggled, leaning on the metal railing of the bed. Turning her head slightly to the side, she stared at the boy's face in front of her.

-And what will you do? What if one of us doesn't make it out alive in the end?- she asked, frowning in feigned concern.

-I would die for you. I would kill for you - he announced seriously -No matter which decision I had to make. I'd happily make both.

His tone of voice was no longer mocking, no longer artificial. His heart was beating calmly, as if what he said didn't matter much to him. But eyes, eyes never lie, and they didn't lie in this case. There was so much emotion in them. Care, hope, joy and affection. Everything she hadn't expected during this moment.

-Xavier - she said, and only the tone of her voice made him understand that he had been caught.

-Y/n - he replied, looking at her expectantly.

-Is it true? - she asked quietly, but the boy heard her too - You don't play anymore?

Thorpe got up from the mattress, movie was long forgotten.

Taking a few steps, he stood in front of her, towering over her body, which seemed even smaller, even more delicate from this perspective. His hand rested uncertainly on her cheek, and she immediately snuggled into his large hand in response.

-If you don't believe me...compel me - he confessed, looking into her irises - You will know everything you need.

-No - she denied immediately, shaking her head - Bianca did it and she lost you...I can't lose you - said the girl, closing her eyes because of the heaviness of emotions that flowed through her body.

-You won't - he stated with a soothing smile on his face - No matter what you did, I probably wouldn't be able to let you go. I care about you, and I hope you care about me too.

-Oh Xavier - the teenager whispered, grabbing his wrist -Of course I care about you. I care about you as much as I am in love with you.

The green-eyed boy smiled contentedly, then he joined their lips in a kiss that was getting hotter, more needy and desperate by the minute. Their mouths danced together as did their tongues that came shortly after.

Y/n felt an inner hunger grow inside her, and then she realized her fangs had come out enough to draw blood. Before she knew it, the delicious taste of Thorpe's blood spread across her palate, fueling her thirst in tiny drops.

Veins appeared under her eyes, and the whites turned black. When the girl shook herself off, she almost jumped back as if she had been burned, running to the other end of the room. Covering her mouth with her hand, as she tried to calm herself.

-Something happened? Did I did something wrong?- he asked worriedly, trying to approach her.

-No, no - said the vampire, breathing deeply -It's just been a long time since I drank human blood - she confessed quietly.

Xavier only then realized the small cut in his mouth, which sting when he ran his tongue over it. Quickly ,pushing aside the wound that was not important to him, he slowly approached the teenager, trying to take her face in his hands, but she turned her head every time, not allowing him to see her.

-Hey, hey - he whispered tenderly -Let me see - he added, catching her by the shoulders.

This time the girl gave in, turning around. However, her head was still hanging down, still trying to keep some secret. The boy took her chin and lifted it up. Her darker side was revealed to him, the one that reflected who she was to the world, a dangerous predator. But to him, she was still the same girl who laughed with him, who admired and inspired his drawings. She was still his Y/n.

-My pretty girl - he whispered, trying to cheer her up before he bent his head, kissing her soft lips again.

The vampire gave in almost immediately, feeling the warmth flooding the inside of her heart. Her hands were located on the brunette's neck, suddenly desperately grabbing him as the last line of life.

Xavier lifted her body up, and she wrapped her legs around him like a vine in response. But as their bodies fell onto the bed, their lips parted.

The teenagers took deep breaths as they looked at each other. Waiting for developments.

-You are hungry - he said unexpectedly when the girl tried to approach him - Take my blood.

Those words made her stop moving. Her body seemed to stiffen, only the next touch of the brunette slightly relaxed her.

-I won't do it, Xavier - she said, shaking her head -Feeding from a vein requires incredible control. One slip and I won't be able to turn back.

-I want you to do it. I want you to feel better - he said stubbornly, grabbing her neck with his hand - I trust you.

Y/n looked uncertainly into the boy's eyes, but found no hesitation or fear, only warmth.

Descending agonizingly slowly towards his pulse, she settled herself more comfortably on his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders before her lips touched his white, smooth neck. The teenager brushed his skin in every uncovered place, every now and then hooking on it with sharp fangs, causing Thorpe to shiver.

She stopped after a long moment, kissing the crook of his neck one last time before sinking her fangs into it.

Xavier grabbed her hips, squeezing them tightly as the vampire fed on him. Her mouth insistently sucked his skin, avoiding losing even a drop of red liquid.

Suddenly, her pelvis began to move back and forth, creating a small movement that was still felt by the boy, which made him moan softly, feeling the friction around his member. Y/n hearing his voice, moved her loins harder, more confident, and in response he began to direct the movements of her body, shamelessly leading them towards sweet bliss.

When the teenager broke away from the green-eyed boy neck, her loud moan was heard in the room, followed by many more. He, absorbing them like the greatest praise, only rewarded her by meeting her with his movements, after a while attacking her neck with hot and wet kisses that marked all the skin available to his eye.

The two continued in this dance until the overwhelming pleasure took over their bodies. The girl's womanhood trembled from the intensity of her orgasm, leaving behind a wet stain on Xavier's pants, which was dirty not only by Y/n herself but probably by himself as well.

Breathing heavily, he snuggled into the crook of her neck, stroking her shiny, thick locks.

They did not know how much time had passed, but the brunette shook himself only when the body above him began to move. The teenager straightened up to be able to look into his eyes before she bit her own wrist, drawing blood. Slowly sucking on her skin, she took enough substance into her mouth to then kiss Xavier, letting the liquid into his mouth, which closed the wound on his neck at a surprisingly fast pace.

-Was it good? - asked the brunette, staring at her face - Do you feel better?

Y/n smiled warmly, connecting their foreheads together.

-I feel better than great, if I'm honest - she confessed in a light tone of voice - And you, did it hurt a lot?

-No - he said - Nothing that I will not suffer for my girl - he added, smiling cunningly, and she laughed gently.

-I love you Xavier - girl confessed, snuggling into his chest, soothingly listening to his heartbeat.

The boy in response hugged her closer, putting his face to the top of her head, inhaling her scent, his hand gliding along her leg.

-And I love you Y/n - he whispered, brushing her jaw with his lips, which began to roam her body again that night.

And she allowed everything, becoming his favorite canvas.

#xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe smut #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe x fem!reader #xavier thorpe wednesday series #wednesday x reader #wednesday smut #nevermore #xavier thorpe fluff #teen romance #vampires #supernatural #wednesday #wednesday fanfic #friends to lovers #wednesday netflix #xavier thrope x you

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catmansquad · 8 months

Text

Eldritch!König

Headcanons galore for the troubled soul.

For as long as he remembered, he knew he wasn’t like other children.

His mother would wrap him up warm, a little scarf so that no-one could see the welts all over his lower face.

Their parents would whisper, and pull the children away from him.

His mother was loving and warm, but his father never showed him love. The man was cold and abusive. Calling him a freak with bloodshot eyes and the stench of alcohol on his breath.

Eventually his father revealed himself as violently homophobic. König’s attempt at exploration in his teen years ended in being beaten black and blue. His father called him a freak in more ways than one.

König was inevitably forced to confront the fact that he definitely wasn’t like other people. The man who spat venomous words was only his step-father. His mother conceded defeat when he stepped into the light to show his face. She told him that his father- his sire- was “exceptional” in all ways. A night of transcendental passion that defied all description.

At 35 years old, König stands over 7’ tall, and can lift a grown man single-handedly.

To say he is intimidating would be an awful understatement.

Until he met you, there was only one other man he trusted and loved deep enough to unmask himself. It was the deep and pure acceptance he’d always longed for. For a time, he had found someone he could trust absolutely.

When the townsfolk came with torches and petrol bombs, chanting of death to the “Abomination”, König was determined to fight, then to flee with his beloved. In the end, only he escaped the flames.

It takes him months of letting down his barriers and rejecting your attempts to see his face, before he finally agrees.

“Promise me, mein Schatz… P-promise me that you... Won’t scream…”

You had expected scarring, perhaps disfigurement.

“I promise, King, you’re handsome to me no matter how-“

You barely manage to choke back the shriek of horror, eyes blown wide as the sniper’s hood falls to his side, clutched tight in a fist.

His azure eyes are sad, sparkling with unshed emotions. All six of them. His nostrils are narrow, his frowning mouth barely visible beneath the many long, tentacles that now hang limp and still as he waits for you to reject him. To call him a freak. To run, screaming into the night, howling about a monster.

“That’s… N-not what I was expecting.”

His eyes flick up to meet yours, a soft gasp passes his lips. You don’t run, you step closer to him. Had reaching out, fascinated, until you stopped. “Can I touch them?”. He nods, slowly.

He shivers at the feel of your fingers brushing along one of his appendages, it twitches at the foreign contact. He slowly coaxes it into wrapping around your hand in return.

Kissing König is an experience. His huge hands cup your ass to support you against his chest, his tendrils wrap around your neck, across your shoulder and down your back, pulling you close against him. He kisses back with a ferocious desperation, a touch-starved, love-starved man who finally has acceptance once.

He has other secrets, too; of how his gloves conceal his dark, sharp nails and webbed fingers, of the faint, closed slits in his neck that hide gills, and of how the light never seems to sit quite right on his bare skin. It is as if the shadows of the night sky want to swallow him up.

You’d always let you imagination run wild, the first few times you’d slept with the hulking Colonel, the man who refused to show his face, but the moans and groans of your name from beneath the hood had been enough to sate you. Loving him for who he really was did not take much effort.

He loves you just as much. Perhaps, his love burns too hot. After what befell the last man who accepted him, König would do anything to keep you safe. To keep you his. Anything.

“Mein Liebe, mein Schatz… Mine…“

It’s common to wake up to find yourself hugged against his chest, eyes watching you sleep, a single tentacle stroking your cheek. Your dreams are stranger these days; of a ruined city beneath an eclipsed sun, and tattered yellow banners fluttering in dead winds.

You witnessed him deal with the last man who assaulted you; the mask shifted and one tentacle lashed out from beneath, wrapping around his neck and strangled him while König looked on with a ferocious growl in his chest.

At the Halloween party, König greeted you wrapped in golden silks and a white veil. He hugs you close, lavishing little kisses while spinning you on the spot and whispering sweet nothings in you ear. “I know who I am. What I am here for. Be my consort, by my side. Forever. We will rule this world made anew. You are worthy, dear one…”

Only then did you recognize what he meant. He was telling you who he was. His callsign, his robes of golden yellow silk, the yellow tears that stained his sniper hood. He’d always been telling you.

“Der gelbe König”.

The King in Yellow embraces you as the eye of the storm, lost in each other’s eyes, as the madness claims all else.

#cod könig #könig x male reader #eldritch König

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tip-top-cloud-surfer · 1 year

Text

The Ironies of Life (Part 3) - Rooster

Pairing: Rooster/ Fem!OC (Naomi)

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: (Unplanned) Pregnancy; Exes; Emotional Angst; Named Female OC (Naomi), but No Physical Descriptions

This work, all of my other works, and my entire blog are 18+ Only.

Naomi is referenced as being a woman and she was previously an officer in the Navy. But otherwise there is no description of her physical features or her surname, so fill in as you wish.

Summary: Rooster flies in for Naomi's baby shower. They struggle to communicate normally.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Master List

Having nightmares wasn’t odd for Rooster. Having nightmares about the uranium facility mission specifically wasn’t odd for Rooster. He relived those seconds where he thought that he was going to die countless times. The first time that he was shot out of the sky. The second time that he was nearly shot out of the sky with Maverick as the pilot. Getting caught at the enemy base. All of it.

But this time, it was different.

It started out the same. He and Mav were flying through the sky and the fifth-generation fighter had a lock on them. The missile was coming straight for them and Rooster had been down this particular nightmare path enough times to know that Hangman wasn’t going to arrive in time. The missile hit and everything flashed to black, just like it usually did in his nightmares.

But this time, it didn’t end there.

He didn’t wake up. He didn’t sit up immediately and gasp for breath while he sat in practically a pool of his own sweat. He didn’t stumble out of bed and scramble out of his soaked shirt as he crawled for the shower or something else to try and calm himself down.

No, the nightmare continued. But not in the direction that Rooster was expecting.

After the flash of light, Rooster found himself staring up at a house. And not just any house. It was the house that he used to live in with Naomi. The house that they moved into together about a year and a half into their relationship. The house that he promptly moved out of the night that she broke up with him. It was the center of their relationship. And it looked just like how Rooster remembered it.

Minus the fact that Phoenix was standing on the front porch in her dress whites.

She stood rigid, but there was an added shakiness to her form when she raised her fist. Phoenix knocked on the door three times in a short staccato fashion before taking a step back. She let out a breath, trying to steady herself, before she straightened up even further.

Naomi answered the door, slowly pulling it back. She must have seen Phoenix from the window because looked like she was in the middle of mentally preparing herself for this conversation. But, for whatever reason, Naomi wasn’t pregnant in this nightmare. Or maybe she was, but she didn’t look it. She looked exactly like she did the day that she dumped him.

Naomi gripped the door tightly and held a hand over her mouth as tears sprung to her eyes. Phoenix opened her mouth to speak, but no words seemed to come out. She simply shook her head as she fought her own tears. Phoenix cleared her throat and opened her mouth again, but she was cut off by a distinct cry from inside the house.

A cry that caused a new wave of fear to flow through Rooster’s soul.

Naomi tried to dry her tears and turned inside the house, leaving the door ajar for Phoenix to come inside. Rooster watched as Naomi headed into the living room and over to a little white crib. she leaned over the crib and carefully scooped up a little baby—his little baby, Rooster realized with absolute horror—and held them to her chest.

“It’s okay,” Naomi cried softly. She pressed a kiss to her baby’s head and rested her head over their own as tears openly streamed down her cheeks. “It’s okay, sweetheart.”

~~~~~

Rooster shot up in bed, gasping for breath. Sweat dripped down his chest and forehead, making Rooster feel too hot and too cold at the same time. He leaned over his bed, feeling his stomach run through somersaults as anxiety and adrenaline took over. Gagging and gasping, Rooster held a hand to his face and tried to calm down.

It was just a nightmare, he repeated to himself. It was just a nightmare.

Rubbing his face, Rooster reached for his phone and checked the time. 2:19 AM. Rooster let out another sigh and kicked the blanket off of him. Eventually padding out of his room in Maverick’s house, Rooster headed towards the kitchen. He planned to sit on the back porch or go for a run.

But when he saw Maverick sitting at the kitchen table, flipping through a newspaper, Rooster stopped in the entryway. Maverick slowly looked up at Rooster with a knowing look in his eye. Rooster did not comment on Maverick’s stare and simply walked over to take his seat. Grabbing a banana, Rooster started to mindlessly peel it while Maverick finally opened his mouth to speak.

“The same one?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah,” was all Rooster offered.

“Are you all packed?” Maverick questioned, changing the subject.

“Yeah. I’m only going for the weekend,” Rooster stated softly, glancing up at Maverick.

It was a little over a month since Rooster found out that Naomi was pregnant with his child. She was now over seven months pregnant and this weekend was her baby shower, which her mom and sister put together for her. Naomi gave Rooster an invitation before she left Miramar, but Rooster was still worried that he was unwelcome there.

After all, he was the jackass who refused to talk to her for six months about the baby.

And Rooster didn’t doubt that Naomi’s sister Sydney was going to make his weekend a living hell as punishment for that. Sydney wasn’t always Rooster’s biggest fan. And she wasn’t exactly subtle. But they were in a good place for the last four years or so of Naomi and Rooster’s relationship. And then he blocked her when she tried to reach out to him on Naomi’s behalf.

So, yeah, she was going to make his weekend a living hell.

“You’ll be fine,” Maverick insisted calmly, offering him a supportive expression. “You’re flying up for the weekend for this. If you were really a complete deadbeat, you wouldn’t drive ten minutes down the road for this baby shower. They’ll recognize that. And Naomi already knows that.”

“I know,” Rooster sighed, holding his head in his hands. He let out another sigh before picking his head up. “But I can’t fuck this up, Mav. I can’t.”

“It’s pretty hard to fuck up attending a baby shower,” Maverick pointed out softly.

“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Rooster muttered, shaking his head.

~~~~~

Rooster did find a way to fuck it up. Or rather, American Airlines found a way.

Delayed three hours. His flight, which was barely long enough for the flight attendant to walk around and hand out in-flight service, was delayed three hours. And that meant that all of Rooster’s planning went completely out the window.

Well, if Sydney didn’t hate him before, she definitely did now.

Rooster hurried up to the venue and simply hoped that the first person that he ran into was not Sydney, but maybe Naomi’s mom instead. But, of course, the second that he pushed the door open, the first set of eyes that he locked with belonged to one very annoyed Sydney.

“God-fucking-dammit,” Rooster muttered under his breath before forcing a smile. “Hey, Sydney.”

“Brad Brad,” she greeted him coldly, folding her arms over her chest. “Get lost on your way up?”

“Flight got delayed,” Rooster explained, knowing that it wasn’t going to help his cause either way. “I texted Naomi about it.”

“I know,” Sydney replied calmly. She stared him down for a bit, letting Rooster squirm for a little bit, before she finally put him out of his misery. “My sister is out back. Try to not disappoint her any more than you already have, Brad Brad.”

“Thank you, Sydney,” Rooster grunted out, quickly making his way past her.

Keeping his head down as he maneuvered through the few guests that remained, Rooster made his way out to the back patio. Stepping outside, Rooster took a quick glance around before spotting Naomi over on a patio couch with her mom. He cleared his throat, straightened up a bit, and made his way over to her. Naomi’s mom was the first to spot him and offered him a small smile.

“Hi, Bradley,” she called, getting up from her seat. “How was your flight?”

“Very late,” Rooster replied apologetically.

“Well, nothing you can do about that,” Naomi’s mom assured him, giving him a quick squeeze. “Did you eat lunch?”

“No, I was—”

“—I’ll grab you some then. You two just stay out here for a bit,” Naomi’s mom interjected, earning a look from Naomi, who was still sitting on the couch. “I’ll bring it out to you.”

“You don’t have—”

“—No, no, no, I insist. And some cake too,” Naomi’s mom stated before hurrying off.

Rooster watched her go before turning to Naomi, who now sat on the edge of the couch. She offered him a small smile and gestured to the seat across from her.

“You know that you’ll never win against her.”

“I’m remembering very quickly,” Rooster replied, walking around to sit on the couch.

He set his bag down and awkwardly cleared his throat. Turning to Naomi again, Rooster opened his mouth to apologize, but Naomi waved her hand before he could even speak.

“I was checking your flight status. You don’t have to apologize,” she stated softly. “It wasn’t your fault that you were late.”

This time, Rooster added on his own accord.

“Did you get the gifts that Penny and Mav sent up?” Rooster asked quietly, forcing a smile.

“Yes, I opened them earlier. Thank everyone for all of it,” Naomi replied kindly, nodding along with a wide, genuine smile. “I appreciate it, really. Especially the little mobile with all the birds. I’m assuming that Penny helped Mav pick out.”

“I picked it out, actually,” Rooster added softly.

“Oh, sorry,” Naomi quickly correctly herself, “well, thanks for picking it out. It looks beautiful.”

“Of course,” Rooster mumbled out, trying to relax just a little bit. “How’s . . . everything? Your health and all of that.”

“Healthy. We’re both healthy,” Naomi assured Rooster with an encouraging look. “Everything’s normal and progressing as it should be.”

“Good. That’s . . . good.”

“Yeah,” Naomi breathed out, looking like she was forcing confidence as well.

“I grabbed you a little bit of everything,” Naomi’s mom called, breaking up the unresolved tension. “I hope that’s enough for you.”

“No, no, that’s plenty,” Rooster assured Naomi’s mom, taking the plate from her hands. “Thank you.”

“Anytime. And I was going to bring you some cake, but it’s color coded, so . . .” Naomi’s mom trailed off, sharing a look with Naomi.

Rooster turned to Naomi, who straightened up a bit when she realized what her mom was referencing. Naomi turned to Rooster with nervous smile. Fiddling a bit with her fingers, Naomi smoothed down her dress and rubbed her bump.

“Well, um . . .” Naomi took a moment to compose herself before meeting Rooster’s curious gaze again. “I decided to learn the gender of the baby. And Sydney had a cake made for it and . . . I was going to tell you about it when you got here and so, if you want to wait some more, that’s fine.”

“Oh,” Rooster realized, nodding slowly. “I’ll, uh . . .”

Rooster trailed off, looking away from Naomi as he tried to piece together his thoughts. Did he want to know the gender of the baby? Did it really matter if he found out now or if he found out later? He didn’t think so. But there was also the nagging little voice deep in the back of his mind, the part that tended to bring out his more avoidant personality traits, flashed a giant warning sign in front of his eyes.

“. . . I’ll just wait the few more weeks,” Rooster finally decided, picking his head up.

“That’s fine,” Naomi immediately assured him. “Sorry for throwing that decision at you.”

“Don’t apologize,” Rooster told her. “It was your decision to make.”

Naomi seemed a little surprised at his particular phrasing, but she quickly pulled on a smile. Shuffling a bit in her seat, she turned back to Rooster.

“Oh, well, then no cake. Don’t want to ruin the surprise.”

~~~~~

Rooster knew that he had some making up to do to Naomi and her family.

And if there was any way to try and make it up to Naomi, turning himself into a pack mule was probably a good start. Grabbing all of the huge, heavy boxes from the car and dragging them upstairs to the nursery without any help had to win him a couple points.

He hoped, at least.

After she entered her third trimester of her pregnancy, Naomi moved back in with her mom into her childhood home. Her one-bedroom apartment in the city just didn’t seem like the right place to raise a baby, so she moved home. It took a sizeable dent out of her pride, but this wasn’t about her anymore. The baby deserved a backyard to run around in and a driveway to ride their bike.

And, well, Rooster quietly agreed with her. And he wanted to appear supportive, so if he had to act like a pack mule for a bit, he would act like a pack mule for a bit.

“You didn’t have to carry all of that,” Naomi assured Rooster, walking into the nursery. “We could have helped you.”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Rooster insisted, straightening up. “It’s the least that I can do.”

Naomi nodded with a small smile, glancing around the nursery. She licked her lips nervously before straightening up and folding her arms over her bump. Turning back to Rooster, Naomi offered him a gentle expression.

“Did you want to help set up the nursery? While you’re here?” Naomi offered to him quietly.

“You want my help with that?” Rooster asked, a little surprised at her offer. “I would have thought that you wanted your mom and Sydney to help you out with that.”

“Well, they already helped me pick most of this out for the registry,” Naomi replied, shrugging her shoulders nonchalantly. “And you didn’t get to do any of that. So, if you want, if you’re not too tired, we can do it together.”

“Okay,” Rooster agreed, nodding along slowly. “I, uh, I’d like that.”

“Okay,” Naomi returned with a small smile.

They worked together, reminding Rooster of the happier times between them. When they felt like a team. When he felt like there was nothing that they couldn’t have solved together. When he thought that he finally found the one person that he was going to spend every last breath with.

But it was hard to remember that that was months ago and wasn’t his reality anymore.

Rooster still did most of the heavy lifting, but Naomi was very much an active participant. But it didn’t take long for Rooster to notice how she was shifting uncomfortably on her feet. Her ankles were swollen and with the baby shower earlier that day, Rooster had to assume that Naomi was exhausted. And, so, when they finished up with the crib, he started on the chair.

“Here,” Rooster called, gesturing to the chair.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Naomi insisted, going back to folding blankets.

“Naomi,” Rooster called again, “you’ve been shifting on your feet ever since we started.”

Naomi shot him a look of protest that Rooster had seen about a thousand times before, but eventually when the pain in her feet became just a bit too much, she begrudgingly switched over to the chair. Rooster moved to put the bassinet together while Naomi arranged and sorted through the various miscellaneous gifts that she received.

“Alright, that’s all set. Where did you . . .” Rooster trailed off, glancing back at Naomi.

In the minute between her handing him some pieces and him finishing up the bassinet, Naomi seemed to have fallen asleep on her chair. She was curled up a bit with her head resting on the edge of it and her lips slightly parted. It looked like an awkward position but given the day that Naomi had and third trimester exhaustion, she probably could have fallen asleep anywhere.

Slowly standing up, Rooster quietly walked over to Naomi. He waited a few moments, just to make sure that she was, in fact, asleep. Glancing at the open door, Rooster bent his knees. Rooster carefully slid his arm underneath Naomi’s knees and back to slowly lift her up. She barely even stirred as he shifted her head to his shoulder.

Carefully walking out of the room, Rooster turned the corner and headed for Naomi’s childhood bedroom. The door was open, so Rooster carried her inside. Laying her down on her bed, Rooster adjusted Naomi’s pillows and blankets for her, trying to get her as comfortable as possible given her large baby bump.

Straightening up again, Rooster couldn’t help but stare down at Naomi’s bump. It was larger than it was the last time that he saw her, and Rooster found himself searching for any sign of the baby—their baby—moving around in there. He reached out a hand, about to brush his fingers along Naomi’s bump, when he caught himself.

Immediately reaching back, Rooster cleared his throat and turned for the door, leaving Naomi to sleep peacefully in her bed.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4

Tag List:

@gxlden-honey @caidi-paris @xoxabs88xox @badasspizzalover @rosiahills22 @midnightmagpiemama @indigomaegrimm @pinkpantheris @itsmytimetoodream @appledressing

#rooster x oc #rooster #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x oc #top gun maverick #top gun #tgm #tgm fic

227 notes · View notes

hyeque · 2 years

Text

always this nice [kuroo tetsurō] [nsfw]

synopsis: having overworked himself for the past few weeks, you decide to give kuroo some well needed stress relief

notes: part of @cirigiri / @bowmonde dilf collab! apologies for how late this is </3 i did my best but idk how i feel about this one

warnings: slight angst in first part, hard to soft dom!kuroo (yes, he's a simp), kuroo in a suit because i'm a slut for this man, unprotected sex, blowjob, mentions of fem body parts, breeding kink, implied age gap, use of the word 'sir', possible computer damage, mentions of kids

by nature, kuroo tetsurō is a giver. he'd always looked out for others more than himself. as his assistant, you see this all the time at work and even with his daughters. you don't really understand what happened between him and his ex-wife because from the looks of you, he's the ideal husband and father. he couldn't be any more perfect than he is now. and being that he's older than you, he always felt the need to look after you. to take care of you. to praise and spoil you to death.

you remember the day you waltzed into his office, nerves running high and heart beating fast. you had just begun your first day as his personal assistant. you had heard the rumors and the horror stories of past assistants crying and leaving humiliated because of kuroo. you only hoped that you didn't suffer the same fate.

but luckily, kuroo likes you. he's enamored by you, really.

he knew from the beginning that a man of his age shouldn't get involved with someone so young, but he couldn't help himself. you fascinated him way too much. while he first thought you had a shy nature, he quickly learned that you would open up around those you knew well. and the two of you spent countless hours together because of your job. during that time he really learned how witty, fun, and engaging you are, and that made him attracted to you.

one thing leads to another and lines get blurred and boundaries get crossed. you never thought kuroo would look twice at you but the lingering glances and teasing touches thrilled you. you find yourself cumming as many times as you want by his hand. body worshipped every night the two of you end up in bed or over his desk with what ten minutes he would have before meetings.

from lunch meets and fending off office pervs, to getting the best oral and fingering of your life, kuroo will practically do anything for you.

with you, he's always this nice.

but today is different. from the look that kuroo has on his face, you can tell he's far from the grinning and teasing nature that he usually has around you. there's no sign of the familiar and gentle smile on his face. it's instead replaced by a stern expression as he concentrates on the screen in front of him.

you sit quietly, watching him work in silence. his knee bounces anxiously and he runs his hand through his greying hair. there are evident signs of age on his face, but you don't think it makes him look any less handsome than he is now.

in fact, he looks delectable.

you ogle him quietly and hope that eventually, he'll notice your neediness. a minute passes, then two, and eventually a whole ten. you've had enough. it's sad to say you can count on one hand how many times he's looked at you today, and you have to end that.

"kuroo?" you ask, moving so you're in front of his desk.

he hums, eyes not moving from the screen of his computer where he types. you huff, calming your nerves. the last thing you want to do is upset and aggravate him.

"would you like me to get you some food? a drink?" you suggest. he came in the office super early this morning to your surprise. he seemed fidgety and irritable every time you asked if he needed help, so you left him alone. time had passed though and you realize he hadn't eaten and it's noon now.

you prepare for him to say 'no, I'm fine', but to your surprise, he accepts the offer.

you order food from his favorite place, remembering his order like the back of your hand. it isn't long before you pick it up and swiftly bring it to him. you leave it on his desk, receiving a mumbled 'thank you' in return. going off to complete office duties, your worrying over him is subsided. but it all returns when you come back and look over to see his food still sitting in place and coffee long cold by now. something stirs within you and you feel your eyes twitch. it pains you to see that kuroo isn't properly taking care of himself.

you initiate phase one. the distraction. kuroo could never resist you, and a lot of the time you weren't even doing anything to purposely distract him. he's just that easy to rile up.

"oops," you mumbled under your breath, eyes wandering back to the man as you start to pick up the pens you "knocked over". you make sure to bend over where your ass is clearly visible.

unfortunately, he barely glances up at you and that irritates you to no end. but you're persistent and you're not going to give up.

it's time for you to initiate phase two.

since it isn't clear to the man himself that you want his attention, it appears that you have to be bolder with your actions. crawling under his desk to retrieve the pens you clumsily 'dropped', you find yourself between his legs. your eyes scan over his thick thighs curiously, admiring how muscular they appear in his slacks.

"w-what are you doing?" kuroo jumps back when he feels your hand rest on his knee. that doesn't deter you from your actions and you only slide your hand further up his pants leg.

"nothing. just resting here," you respond, moving to rest your head on his inner thigh. you innocently look up at him and gauge his reaction.

kuroo sighs, closing his eyes. he gently says your name before explaining that he doesn't have time at the moment to appease any of your 'games'. you scrunch your nose up, slightly hurt at the fact that he thought most of what you did together wasn't serious.

"last time i checked, not taking care of yourself isn't a 'game'," you mumble, eyes glaring at the floor. to not upset and aggravate him be damned, "way to be hypocritical."

kuroo's eyes shift from his screen to you, brows furrowed. "excuse me?"

normally you'd back down at his tone but not today. you roll your eyes, inspecting your nails, "you're not deaf, you heard me."

kuroo feels his eye twitch. "no, i don't think i did," he pulls you up by the arm so that you're in front of him. your breath hitches when he stands up, towering over you as his eyes glare down at you, "so why don't you repeat what just came out of that smart mouth of yours?"

your thighs squeeze slightly at his words and you hope he doesn't notice. by the unreadable expression on his face you can't tell, and that scares you more than anything. but for the sake of your ego--and maybe even possibly of your job--you stand your ground and remain level-headed and reasonable.

"you've been working yourself to death lately," you start, folding your arms, "i've been watching you for the past few days--no, weeks, and you haven't been taking care of yourself. i know you pride yourself in being hardworking but doing it to an unhealthy level is alarming and has to stop."

the sternness in his eyes softens slightly, but returns just as quickly. "this time of year always gets more busy than usual. you wouldn't understand that i have a lot more to take care of and do. i don't have time to take a break."

your blood boils, "you always tell me that if i need help then i should never be afraid to ask. well what about you? if you let me help you, then you wouldn't be so stressed all the time. isn't that what i'm supposed to be here for?"

"yeah, well you're being more of a hinderance than helpful." kuroo snaps. "i don't ask for you to breathe down my neck all the time."

a hurt look crosses your face, but instead of saying something nasty back you only will yourself to calm down. "i just want to look out for you. i'm not trying to be annoying, if you think that." a part of you wants to cry, but you know that that's stupid and you don't want to cry over a man of all people.

kuroo must've realized the weight of his words but when nothing else comes out of his mouth, you decide enough is enough. if he's truly too stubborn to apologize and understand your concerns, you don't want to be there.

you don't say anything else as you step away from him. only the words, "call me when you've calmed down" come out of your mouth and you're no longer looking at him.

"where are you going?" he asks, watching you move towards the front door after grabbing your jacket.

you raise a brow, "somewhere where i'm not a hindrance. i'm useful to other people, you know."

your words sting him, but he knows he deserves it after what he said.

"i-i'm sorry." kuroo says, his hand grasping your wrist before you can pull away completely. "i didn't need to be such an ass when you're trying to look out for me. that wasn't right of me."

your body relaxes after hearing his words and you watch him look sheepishly at you while he speaks.

"it's just, i'm not used to this kind of thing," he laughs bitterly, "all my life it's been me looking out for others so i learned to not ask for help. i always thought i could do what i could on my own."

you hum, running your thumb over his knuckles. "and you're great at it, but i promise you i just want to help because i want the best for you. i'll always be here by your side." you say, leaning into him. his arms wrap around your waist and pull you closer. the smell of his aftershave makes you close your eyes.

"i'm glad. i don't think i could ever let you go." he smiles, pressing a kiss to your temple.

you tighten your hold on him, "you better not." you hide your face in his suit jacket, head resting on his chest. he runs his hands along your back soothingly and notice how you curl impossibly further into his touch.

"someone's clingy today." kuroo teases, smirking against your forehead where his lips rest.

"i just miss you. that's all." you mumble into his chest. your hands move to work out the knots in his back and he sighs, reveling in your touch. he swears internally as he feels all of his blood rush south and the unmistakable notion of his pants tightening.

his hands rest innocently just above your ass, and he knows he can easily have you like putty in his hands if he grabs your plump ass.

"you okay, tetsu?"

a faint groan leaves his mouth upon hearing the nickname you give him.

"y-yeah..." he responds.

"liar. you're hard." you tease. he grumbles a ' your fault' under his breath.

"do you want me to do something about this, sir?" you ask, fingers hovering over his zipper.

"i think it's only right if you do." he answers, sucking his breath as he presses himself into your hand. "sounds like you want to more than i do."

you unzip him. "i do. i want you to use me to relieve your stress." you palm him through his pants. "want you to fuck all your stress away into my body." you slide to your knees in front of him, resting your cheek on top of his bulge.

"you sure?" kuroo looks at you with concern. the last thing he wants to do is hurt you, but you don't care. you just want to be useful for him besides being his cute little assistant.

"yes," looking up through your lashes, you huff out a pout. "i'm hungry."

kuroo sucks in a sharp breath, his cock throbbing hard in his slacks. he doesn’t know what past life he had to deserve you, but he isn't complaining.

"look at you being all good for me." his hand caresses your face before it moves to run through your hair, his gentle touch so familiar you melt into it and close your eyes.

...that is until you feel him wrap your hair around his hand and yank back your head. you gasp, eyes flying back open to look at him. his gold eyes glare down at you, a look of displeasure on his face.

"being good at the expense of being bratty. you know i don't like that."

your eyes widen and you protest, "but—"

"'but' what?" kuroo leans down to look at you, "don't think i didn't notice or forget how you talked to me earlier. no matter what, there's no excuse for it."

you grow silent at his words, not daring to say anything further.

he sighs, looking at his watch. "i don't have a lot of time. and since i'm being nice and devoting some to you, i expect that you follow what i tell you to do. understand?"

you nod solemnly, but he tsks, gently smacking your face. "that's not an answer, baby."

"yes, sir. i understand," you reply.

he seems pleased with your response. you watch him unbuckle his pants, excitement coursing through your veins as he pulls himself out. your breath audibly hitches the moment his thick length comes into view. you've never seen something more beautiful.

kuroo smirks. he could never get over the look on your face when you see his cock. it never fails to make him harder than he already is.

he sits back down in his chair. spreading his thick thighs apart, he sighs impatiently.

"well?" he raises a brow, "it's not going to suck itself, is it?"

you don't have to be told twice. your sinful lips part and you take kuroo in your mouth, nearly whining at the delicious, salty taste of him. it had been a while since you'd sucked him off and you don't know why you didn't beg sooner to have him.

you can't explain it but something about sucking off kuroo in his suit makes you absolutely feral. maybe it's the scent of him, the suit he wears, or the noises you're able to get him to produce. regardless, you get a little bit more aggressive, a little bit more eager, a little bit more passionate. and kuroo knows. he knows how you get, but still doesn't have enough time to prepare himself for what's to come—no pun intended.

"s-shit..." kuroo breathes, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head. he has to force himself to not get lost in the moment and watches as you play with his heavy balls, the noises obscene and wet. his nails dig into his palms as he tries not to take over.

you take him as far as you can in the back of your throat, eyes watering at you look up at him, wanting nothing more than to please him and making him feel good.

you're a sight for sore eyes for kuroo and his resolve snaps as he gently grabs the back of your head. "good fucking girl, making me feel so good," he groans, pushing himself to the back of your throat, slowly rocking himself. his pubes press against your nose and his balls slap against your chin as he abuses your wet cavern.

more tears brim your eyes as you take him further, deep throating him and his jaw slacks at the feeling.

he pulls you off of him and presses you against his desk. yanking your pencil skirt up to your waist.

"no panties, huh? such a minx." he slaps your cunt before you get a chance to speak, and you yelp out of surprise.

with his cock resting against your bare ass, you can't help but grind back on him, wanting to feel more of him.

kuroo tsks, watching you for a moment before grabbing your hips. "don't be greedy. you take what i give you." he scolds, smacking your ass. you whine out an apology, but that doesn't dismiss the irritation bubbling within you.

he collects your essence, coating his shaft well in you. he teases your entrance with the fat, mushroom tip of his dick and you bite the inside of your cheek to stop you from yelling at him to hurry up.

"i can see you quivering. you want it that bad, huh?" he chuckles, knowing he himself isn't doing the best either.

"you don't have to be an as—" your breath is quickly taken away from you as he fully sheathes himself inside of you.

kuroo’s composure slacks for a moment once enveloped in your warmth. “so tight, i really was away from your cunt for too long.”

"te-sir, i feel so full!" you scramble for your bearings but nothing can prepare you for this. ever.

"yeah? well you always feel so fucking good around me." kuroo grunts, his large hands resting on your hips as he has to mentally will himself to not cum so soon. work made him forget just how good your pussy feels and he mentally hits himself on the head for that. when he gets the chance, he's going to cockwarm your pussy for hours to make up for lost time.

kuroo moves his hips back, almost pulling out of you all the way before slamming back into you. before you can scream out loud, he shoves two of his fingers in your mouth, silencing you.

"can't have anyone hearing how pretty you sound, sweetheart." he hums, moving his hips faster. his hands pull back your hair and he presses a sweet kiss to your temple. his eyes look down at where you creaming his dick and that only motivates him further.

kuroo is a hypocrite. even with you silenced, anyone walking by his office surely can hear what's going on, but he doesn't care. it's not like no one knows you two are exclusive.

"this is what you wanted, right?" he grunts, hips drilling into yours at a rapid speed. "you wanted to be fucked like a whore, huh? used like a cumslut?" for some reason, a part of kuroo feels bad for calling you a 'whore' and a 'slut' but he knows that you like it. he can feel it in the way you gush around his shaft.

kuroo's eyes fall to the framed photo of his twin girls that sits on his desk and he quickly looks away out of slight embarrassment and awkwardness. but he soon thinks about all the times he's seen you take care of his daughters. how sweet and kind you are to them, and how you love and adore them just as much as they do for you too.

and the first time that they started calling you 'mommy'? kuroo didn't know what to think. he remembers apologizing to you when taking you home and that he would tell Hayami and Akari to not call you that. he remembers you saying not to worry about it and that you didn't mind. that you cared and loved them like your own.

he remembers seeing you in his kitchen, cooking dinner for the four of you since he nearly set the whole house on fire with his horrible skills. well, they weren't terrible but not the greatest either. but he knew he would have to learn for his girls.

he remembers calling you to watch them while he unexpectedly had to go to a meeting. he remembers coming home to the three of you sleeping on the couch, moving all of you to bed so none of you would wake up in discomfort.

he remembers all the times people mistook you for family, for his wife. and he can't help but think: what if it's always like this?

kuroo would be lying if he said he never thought about what you would look like in his arms, abdomen swollen with his third child. the thought of you having his child has crossed his mind one too many times. every time he fucked you, he can't help but think about his seed catching. then maybe all the other bozos he does work with would stop hitting on you once they saw you were his.

you yourself have crossed his mind one too many times. as much as he wants to keep the relationship professional, he couldn't help but be drawn into you initially. and now, he thinks he's ready to ask if you want to take the next step.

...and he will, when he's done fucking you.

something in him becomes more primal. softer. call him crazy, but being balls deep within you made him realize he wants to marry you. he wants to put a ring on your pretty little finger and make you his cute wife.

kuroo leans down, kissing your forehead before turning you around to face him. he wants to see your face when you cum.

you blink, confused by his actions, "sir, i--"

"tetsurou. call me tetsurou...please." you recognize kuroo becoming gentle with his words. he buries his face in your neck and plants a trail of kisses down them as he slides back inside of you.

the soft gasp that leaves your lips makes him twitch and throb.

"always so good for me," he coos, "always so beautiful and pretty when you're under me like this. isn't that right baby?"

"mmhm!" you nod and cry, feeling yourself cum at his words. you go to apologize for cumming without permission but he hushes you.

he groans at the feeling of your cunt clamping on him, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. "look at you, cumming so sweetly for me. you can give me more, yeah? you can cum again for me?"

your mind has gone into autopilot as you nod, body twitching and shaking with slight sensitivity as he fucks you through your orgasm.

kuroo's large hand wraps around your throat, leaning into your ear he says, "just for me, right? no one else?"

"no one else but you, only you." you answer, chasing his lips. he doesn't hesitate to kiss you breathless. the two of you become so lost in each other

"want me to fill you up? want me to pump this pussy full of my cum?"

you whine and paw at his arm before nodding. fuck, he can feel you clenching harder too.

"y-yes, please fill me up tetsu. need it all so badly!" you whine, eyes nearly rolling back as you become overwhelmed with pleasure.

kuroo's eyes soften at the sight of your fucked out expression and is completely enamored. "g-god, i--"

—love you, is what he wants to say, but he just says that he's cumming instead. luckily not long after does he spill his cum into you.

kuroo slumps his heavy body against you slightly before leaning down to kiss you.

you blink when you both pull apart. "that was..."

he stiffens, worry etched across his face. "too much? i'm sorry if—"

"perfect." you giggle, pushing his sweaty fringe out of the way to wipe his forehead of sweat.

"good! i mean, great!" kuroo grins widely. "that reminds me, please cancel my meeting at 6." he says, watching you redo his tie.

you tilt your head to the side. "'cancel'? may i ask why?" you inquire. it's very out of character for kuroo to cancel a meeting. he usually always makes them no matter what.

"I'm taking you to dinner," he answers, fixing the rest of himself up and then you.

"i-tetsu, you don't have to. i know you're busy." you respond. "i'm okay—we are okay."

kuroo pouts and shakes his head. "i want to. you were right about me overworking myself. i'm sorry for not giving you the attention i should." he says, a guilty look on his face.

"you should really apologize to your daughters. they miss you more." you tease, kissing him as a way of 'apology accepted'.

"yeah i know," he nods sheepishly, "but i just wanted you to know you're important to me."

"you're important to me too, tetsu." you smile, squeezing his hand.

a blush creeps up kuroo's neck as he stares at you and he mentally scolds himself for being what kenma called, 'soft'.

you tilt your head to the side. "why are you staring at me like that?"

"nothing. just happy that you're stuffed full of my cum right now and have to walk around trying to hold it in~" kuroo answers and you hit him in the chest.

"pervert." you hiss, face burning with embarrassment.

"you love me though," he says, heart skipping a beat when you say 'unfortunately' in return. yeah, you're definitely the one.

he only hopes that the ring in his suit jacket isn't that noticeable.

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heartfullofleeches · 2 years

Text

Yandere Show Host (oc) x Gn! Co-Host Reader

Word count:3.k

Warning: cheating, psychological horror, body horror

“It’s cold up here…”

Cool tiles cradle you, curved edges gliding against the back of your legs as you pull them to your chest. You cover your knees with the hem of your shirt, trying to fight the cold in any way possible. The harsh wind slapped at your face and arms; world at your feet from the edge you sat on. You wanted to feel like you were on top of it all. To shout and feel like you mattered to the universe; but it was hard to do so with no comfort at the end of your cries – neither below nor beside you.

“I think we should take a break.”

You ball your fist into your clothes. He doesn’t even look at you when he says it.

“You know I care about you. I just… don’t think I’m ready for this kind of commitment, yet. I’ll.. call you when I am.”

You pull your phone out of your pocket. He’s still right beside you, but so – so far away. You stare down at it, hoping; pleading for his ring tone to play. Praying he won’t leave you again to spend a night in another’s arms.

“Y/n, ugh- come on. Don’t do this.”

Your hands shake. It’s always your fault.

“We just need a little time apart.”

Always we. Your feet feel like they’re losing stability; slipping off to the abyss below.

“Y/n. Y/n?!”

Y/n?

You open your eyes. A fan hangs over a velvet ceiling, chandelier below swaying as it blows air down on you. Floral shaped glass that held identical lights as their bulbs. Satin pillows held your back, soft enough to lure you back to sleep near immediately – had you been laying on them completely. Your limbs hung off the side of the couch, neck supported by a hand at its base. The skin was so cold; draining your natural heat till it mellowed into a neutral temperature. The permanent smile on your co-host's face greets you as you turn your attention to him, shoulders rising with a laugh.

“What have I told you about sleeping on the couch, you silly thing.” Host chimes. “You’ll get a crook in your neck. Bad for the show and yourself.”

You sit up with his aid, stretching the exhaustion and ache away with a yawn. The rest of the room wasn’t much to look at. A tall mirror clung to one wall, dressing table pushed in front and light bulbs screwed into its golden frame. Vases of flowers and various cases of makeup lined the table, the latter hardly ever put to use. A rack of clothing stood not too far off, every article tailored to your measurements as apposed to posted to Host’s lanky, slightly built frame. Lastly, there was a grey door, covered by sheer curtains and your name bolded in cursive across its wood. A place where your near every desire lied.

“I'm sorry. Yesterday had me a little more winded than usual.”

“Should we take a break for today then? We can have a good show any day, but a spectacular one only happens when you’re feeling 100%”

“No, no. I’m fine.”

“Wonderful. Shall we get ready then?” Host offers his hand, lifting you to your feet effortlessly. You walk over to the table, taking a seat upon the cushioned chair in front of it. Host tends to your hair, combing out your bedhead with his long fingers. Gentle strokes that fall down to the nape of your neck; relishing in the life beneath his fingertips. He hums to himself, satisfied with his work. With the fact he had such a stunning co-host. His chin rests atop your head; head tilted towards the mirror at you. In the corner of your eye lies your old phone dormant on the edge of the table. It vibrates with the arrival of a call.

“Absolute perfect! Everyone’s gonna love you out there.”

You flash a tired smile, ridding yourself of the hallucination as you look away. How long has it been since you became his co-host? You couldn’t remember. Time stood still for the most part; your only notion of it bring a bell that would toll before the start of each show. It was frightening at first. As a contestant, your time was spent cowering under the audiences' awaiting gaze; but upon your glorious win they did nothing but sing praises to the heavens – celebrating the new permanent figure on their stage. Though he’d never tell another soul, Host walked you through everything until that point. A bit of a cheat, sure, but he knew you’d be wonderful at everything after. They loved you, eternally – even when there were those days you wondered what life was like back home.

“What’s with that look? Do you need something?”

Host snaps his fingers, a stage hand appearing front the shadows. They looked so close to human; differences spilt only when given a long glance. Crooked hands carry a tray; skin an even deeper grey than his. Their neck was a few inches too long; face blank except for a pristine smile – just like your dear Host. He takes a pitcher from the tray, pouring you a glass of water into a cup that wasn’t there moments ago. His hands rest on your shoulders, smoothing the knots in your joints.

“Please let me know what you need.”

You look down. “I was just wondering…if anyone missed me back home.”

The ice in the glass settles. Silence kicks in too long to be comfortable, before Host’s body begins to shudder once more. It quakes with the force of his laughter. His form hutches over yours, trying to keep the laughs inwards to his best extent. He wipes an imaginary tear from an imaginary eye before addressing you again.

“Of course they miss you! You’re bound to be the highlight of anyone’s day, Y/n, but you must remember, this is home now. You’re no bigger of a star to anyone than us.”

“I.. I know, but I cant help it sometimes, y'know?” You say, offering a small chuckle of your own.

Of course he knows. He knows everything about you. Fears, likes and dislikes, – regrets. Your every dream; both in regards to what you desire and those images in your head. If it weren’t for his permanent smile, he’d be grinning with anticipation for what he had in store.

“Yes, I understand, dear. Just know that you belong here, and we’ll never let go.”

His hands clutch the sides of your arms, head angled awkwardly in the mirror. Just – staring. An alarm rings from nowhere, shutting off abruptly after the third buzz. Host clasps his hands together – you jumping at the sharp sound of his palms meeting. He smooths his slick hair back further and pulls your seat out for you.

“Well that’s our cue! Ready to give our fans another great performance?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“Wonderful. Let’s get to it then.”

You stand to your feet once more, joining Host at a large curtain on the other end of the room; stage lights seeping from beneath the fabric. He exits before you, getting the crowd nice and warm up before your entrance just as he always did.

“Gooood day, lovely viewers! Welcome back to another show with your truly; your forever host – Host!”

The audience cheers. Shrill cheers that become muffled beneath the soundtrack playing around.

“Yes, yes. Hello to you all too. And what a delight greeting it has been so far. We can’t forget our wonderful co-host though, now can we? Give it up for our better half; the lovely as ever, Y/n!”

That’s your mark. The curtain bends under your hand, parting before you can even push them aside. The mutters from the crowd begin. As soon as your legs sweep over the stage floor their voices rise. The headlights blind you momentarily as you step out fully; wrapping you in a daze that felt like waking on another world. Your attire changes under the darkness behind your eyes, microphone in hand; and posture straightening as you greet your adoring fans.

“Greetings, everyone! It’s a pleasure to see you all again.”

The shouts from the crowd are just as; if not more appraising as they were for your partner. You smile and wave; soaking up the attention. Host couldn’t be more proud.

“I think we’re ready to begin another fabulous show. And quite a special one we have today. Y/n, do you know what today is?”

“Uh.. Wednesday?”

Host laughs, followed by a few chuckles from the audience.

“Oh, Y/n. Wednesday was last month. Today is the one year anniversary of you being our gracious star!”

The lights flicker off, returning with a central beam pointed directly at you. A banner hangs over head; congratulating you on the anniversary in bold, red lettering. Balloons and confetti fall around you. The audience hollers in cheer.

“We do love our co-host, don’t we now? Unfortunately, it seems to me that they don’t understand the lengths of our affection. By the end of today’s show I think they’ll have a change of heart.”

Your throat feels dry. What was he on about? Keeping a straight face, you smile into your mic.

“Thank you, all so much. You’re too kind..”

“Haha. No, Y/n, I think you are.. Let’s bring out our contestant!”

The room goes dark once again, more abruptly than the last. When everything settles, the layout of the stage had changed. The vacant area to your right was now blocked by a half wall you could see around if you peak – screen above showing all you needed to see. A large red heart was pastured to the wall behind, three chairs and a podium placing in tow. A landline phone was placed on a stand, as well as one on the podium. Shadows sat to each chair, dim lighting concealing their faces. The fourth stood at the podium, writhing around in place with muffled cries. You could see the outline of fingers over its mouth; the silhouette of more limbs encasing its body and keeping it in place.

“The game of this episode is all about missed connections. In our lives, we make so many new ones, we have to snip the old to make room. No matter how strong the cord may be. Our eager bachelor here knows a lot about that, which is why he’s perfect for our show! Put your hands together for, S!”

Illumination returns to the other half of the stage. The arms around the contestant vanish with the glow; leaving a blindfolded and shaken up man in their stead. Beads of sweat drip from his temple; him squirming in place like he was trying to get off the podium, but was unable. His hands were stuck to the surface no matter how hard he pulled. He was dresses in a letterman’s jacket, the embedded S pealing from the stitching – just like you remembered.

“Host?...”

His glance falls upon you for a single second, before he faces the crowd like nothing happened.

“Quite a looker, isn’t he? Our helpers for today thought so too at one point.”

“H-hey.. hey, what the hell is this? Where am I?!”

“Speaking out of turn are we? I wouldn’t advise that, unless you want to face a penalty. “

The man clams up, shaking like a dog in rain.

“Onto the rules of the game. One by one, our helpers will walk up to the phone and list a few things about themselves. It’s our contestant’s job to remember a single fact about them – their name. Three rounds for three members of his past. Simple enough, right?”

“Please.. I don’t know what I’ve done, but-"

Host lends into his microphone. “Shut up and play by our rules or face punishment like every other rule breaker. ..Let’s bring out our first assistant. Walk on down, A!”

The shadow in the seat closest to the telephone stands up. Their appearance becomes visible as they step into the light. They appeared to be a normal human being; all up to the left side of their face. It was smudged like someone rubbing off make up; lips stretched to their ear and eyelid permanent closed from the abnormality. They pick up the receiver, phone on the other end ringing in response. The constant quivers more, refusing to answer.

“Pick it up.”

The function in his arm is brought back as he hesitantly picks up the phone, putting it to his ear.

“H…ello?”

“We met a weekend in February. I blew you a kiss, you slipped your phone number into my pocket. They had no clue while you held their hand the entire time.”

“Fuck… fuck! Um, February.. R… Riley! Your name is Riley!”

“Corrrect!” Host exclaims. The man breathes a sigh of relief as the crowd cheers. You stare at the ground. Overtime you grew a numbness to the contestants and their cruel fates. You had to, if you wanted to keep your sanity; but this was too much. Too close to home. Home you foolishly believed to be yours alone for years. It feels hard to breathe.

“Everything alright, Y/n?”

“Yea.. Yes just….” You force yourself to bright up. “Excited for our guest getting his first question correct.”

“Glad to hear it! Onto the next one.”

The assistant at the stand leaves and the next makes their appearance. Body littered in bite marks; namely the neck and chest area. They ooze with a black liquid, dripping onto the phone as they take hold.

“We hooked up in the bathroom of the local theater. I saw you leaving a movie with your arm around someone thirty minutes later. You called me the next day. Who am I?”

The man’s lip quivers. “I.. I..”

Steps draw near him. The assistant peers over his shoulder, receiver still in hand. The cord slaps against his neck, tightening as their breath hits his face. They repeat into the phone, unable to take otherwise.

“Frankie.. Oh, god.. Frankie.”

His shoulder heave at the second round of applause. Tears fall from beneath his mask; rambling to himself as his nails rack against the podium.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry-“

“Marvelous! Only one round to go.”

The process repeats. The final assistant walks to the stage. Their skin a pure black, eyes crossed out with a red, crayon like ink. The same ink was sprawled over their chest like an crude, anatomically accurate heart; bleeding down their torso. Their lips moved unnaturally as they spoke, like a frame by frame picture.

“I was the one who you came to most. You promised we’d be together eventually. I smiled when they went-"

“Blair…” The answer comes out in a quiver. He can’t bring himself to say more. He falls to his kneels; forces holding him like a puppet on a string allow him his moment of weakness. Your own legs feel like they’ll give out as well.

“Annnd there we have it, folks! Our contestant has finished all three base questions, but there��s still the bonus around for him to complete.”

“No, no, no. No, fuck you! You said I only had to do three! You lied!”

“Now, now. When did I say “only? Let’s get too it.”

The lights flicker yet again. There’s only a chair on stage, you now in it, and under the crowd's perpetual stare. They feel closer than normal, faceless grins shifting further upwards; socket-less eyes wide open and trained on you. Host appears on the screen above, speaking for the final assistant.

“We met in high school.”

“No.. please..”

“I was the one that learned to sew when you couldn’t afford the jacket for your team.”

“Not you… Anyone, but you.”

“I was there for you when your mother died. Covered your shifts for you and took care of you when you were sick.”

“You can’t be here..”

“You abandoned me everytime I poured my heart out to you.”

“I was scared…”

“Who am I?”

“Don’t make me say this..”

“Who. Am. I.”

“I don’t know!”

Your heart sinks in your chest.

Wrong answer~

Suddenly, everything returns to normal – as normal as it could be in this twisted place. The assistants are back, all staring past you at the contestant. He rips the blindfold from his face, looking around the room. Fear streaked his face as his eyes fell on the assistants, and you before them; silent and in tears.

“Y/n… Is that really you?”

You turn away. The assistants stand.

“Y/n! I’ve looked everywhere for you. It’s me..”

He steps off the podium towards you. They advance.

“Everyone else gave up, but I still search. I’m sorry for everything done. Please… I love-"

They grab onto him. Arms around his neck, torso, legs. Their skin melts into his; merging as they begin to drag him off stage.

“Y-y/n help! I’m so sorry. Forgive me, please!”

Your eyes remain on the floor. Even if you wanted to save him you couldn’t.

“I didn’t want to say that! The blindfold! Y/n!”

He’s gone. You’re alone once again. During the whole event the audience remains silent. You don’t know what to do.

Finish the show. It never starts. It never ends. Without you.

“A-and that brings us to the end of another show with your host, Host. And me as your co-host – Y/n!”

The crowd goes wild. It’s a standing ovation. Their hands clap like fireworks popping in your ears. Their praise rang to the high heavens. Howls, whistles, holders; all in your name for another amazing performance. Confetti falls in your hair, roses and other bouquets of flowers at your feet.

The set up is gone. It’s just you, Host, and your adoring fans. One arm snakes around your waist as he proclaims into the microphone.

“Is that all you got for our shinning star? Give it your all!”

An encore of approval, from the people whose love for you knew no end. The people who depended on seeing you every day and never tired from it. You relish in the saudade of their praise; raised further by one new member of audience who could finally give you the love he never could before.

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