#or at least she looks like it to me tbh i think shes always had slightly lighter skin than her sister but it still didnt look right

[persphonesorchid]

Connotations Of Sin - JHS (m)

Summary: At your lowest, you’ve been living on the streets for the past couple of months. When you decide to leave your only safe haven and find yourself lost in a mysterious fog, an angel stretches out a hand of mercy. Little do you know, black taints his once alabaster wings.

Genre: Fallen Angel Au | Angst, fluff, smut (mdni), horror (V lowkey, I swear)

Word Count: 30k

Masterlist

Please read these warnings carefully!!

Warnings: Homelessness, Kidnapping (? is it though??), Suicidal ideation, referenced and described abuse and murder of a child. Hoseok is his own warning. Mc gets drugged and then she gets sick... A bit of religious babble, mc has nightmares (one of which is actually kinda bad...), she almost dies at one point. Hoseok likes playing mind games, but they aren't serious (Honestly debatable...). Implied gang activity and violence. Hoseok contradicts himself a lot, he's really confusing. Smut: oral ( m and f receiving) soft dom Hoseok, i think Hoseok has an oral fixation (or is it ME, the author?????) unprotected sex.

Notes: Phew, welcome!! SO, it's finally here!!! I'm so excited to share this project with you alll! It was such a big project for me, and so much time and effort went into it. Believe it or not, this started out as a smut piece and it had nothing going for it at all. If you've been following me for a while, you'd remember that back in 2021 i posted a teaser for something similar. Tbh back then probably wasn't the right time to post such a thing lmao, i for certain wasn't ready to write it and it wouldn't have been written in the way it was meant to with my writing style back then. It's been a long journey of understanding the characters portrayed here, and a lot of work to get them right. Very big shoutout to @hwaslayer who's - as always - been there with me from the very beginning and has been the biggest help and motivator, please look out for her Ateez's Seonghwa fic that shares this universe!! I won't keep you any longer, but please be sure to leave feedback, a lot of effort went into this project and i'd love to hear what you think and answer any questions! Happy reading!!!

“You sure you don’t wanna stay here with me dearie? I know it ain’t much, but it’s better than being out in the elements.” Abigail takes your hands in hers, hands that – much like yours – are dirt stained and ruddy, but bring you comfort that you wouldn’t find elsewhere. Abigail – or Toothy as everyone else calls her – is a frail woman with wispy auburn hair and a gap tooth smile. Her hair had gone white in some places, the crows’ feet at her eyes can barely help you guess her age. Her eyes are blue and dull but still regard you warmly like she did when she’d found you wandering along the fourth avenue weeks or so ago.

The space where she stays isn’t much; a nook in an alleyway between two rundown buildings that people don’t bother to go into. She’d tried her best to make it into a space that’s comfortable enough, the roof made of termite bitten sheets of ply that’s at least a square and a half wide. An old, mildew ridden tarp thrown over it and held down by a couple pieces of rubble from the building across makes up the walls that offer shelter from cold wind and rain and as much privacy you could get out here. The floor made of giant trash bags Abigail had swindled from some place or another, covered with old sheets that’s definitely seen better days. Even though the sheets had long lost their softness and leave you itching, they kept your butt off the cold concrete.

You’re going to miss the stories she’d tell. You’d lay on the floor, the longest part of the tarp folded over the top, and stare up at the strip of night sky between the buildings, twinkling with the bit of stars you can see and listen.

She’d tell you of her life before she fell to rock bottom, how grand everything was. How, many years ago, she’d won the lottery by a stroke of luck, only to have it turn sour when her fiancé gambled it all away and she lost everything. She never did tell you what happened to him.

You’d miss walking the couple of miles to the river, armed with pieces of run-down bar soaps and plastic bags with the little clothes you owned in them bundled in your arms. Or the nights when it’s cold, you’d go down to the square with her and look around for things to burn and dump them into the steel barrel to keep warm.

There are days when there’s nothing, and Abigail would distract you from your stomach trying to eat at itself with another one of her stories and old cans filled with steaming boiled rain water. There are days when you’d sit with a full tummy, there’s usually one kind soul out there that takes pity on you both to offer as much as they could.

You’ll be forever grateful for Abigail, with her motherly affection and her warm hands. She never once asked how you ended up here too, she simply offered a hand when you needed it most.

You felt as though you lingered too long... this is the longest you’ve stayed in a place. The company was good, but you feel like there’s just so much you’re robbing Abigail of by staying with her. You know she would strongly disagree; she’d probably whack you with her busted up sneaker and send you to sit in a corner until you’ve apologized. It’s simply how you feel, if you’re not here, Abigail wouldn’t have to share the little of what she gets, you feel terrible enough that she gives you more than she keeps for herself.

“Don’t worry Abigail.” You smile, pulling one hand away to pat hers. Her fingers are bony and long, and lacking the warmth they did earlier in the day. “I don’t stay one place for too long.”

It’s a lie, obviously. You’d rather chew your leg off than go out there alone. Away from the safety this little nook had been for the past month, away from Abigail, who’s cared more about you than anyone has in a while. But you care about her too, enough that you’d leave to make sure that she eats well enough to survive and not give it all to you. She’d be better off.

Abigail narrows her eyes at you, the wrinkles of her face deepening as she frowns. She looks sad, you note, the blue of her eyes dark and stormy, but she says nothing, just squeezes your hands for a while before letting go.

You smile softly, and continue stuffing your clothes into an old backpack Abigail had given you a while back. You fold the dirty ones tight, setting them at the bottom, and the few clean ones you had that still smelled like your last bar soap at the top. You don’t have much, and you’ve gotten used to it – as hard as it was.

When you shouldered your bag and stepped out from under the tarp, Abigail follows, worry on her brow, saying that she’d walk you to the mouth of the alleyway.

“Oh!” She says, turning back to duck under the tarp. You hear the rummaging of her old pot wares, the clanking of the metal before she comes back and holds out a can to you. The label looks worn, peeling off in some places, but you make out the bright red ‘canned peach’ on the side. “I was savin’ this for when we go down to the river, but you’d better have it.”

“Abigail...” You sigh, guilt gnawing at your edges, “I can’t take this.”

Abigail purses her lips, smacking the can into your hand, “Yes, you can. It’ll hold you out for a little while.”

“Then what would you eat?” You outstretch your hand, offering the peaches back to her and she narrows her eyes at you.

“I can manage.” She says testily, and then sighs, softening, “Are you sure you’ll be okay out there?” She takes the can and tucks it into the outside pocket of your bag, “It’ll be rough ya know.”

“I’ll be fine,” You say, and then, you hug her. Truly, you’ll miss her. She pats your back gently, “Thank you for everything.”

“Don’t mention it, we gotta look out for each other out here.” Abigail smiles, pulling away. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her baggy jeans, something she’d picked up at a donation shelter a couple of days ago. It’s got a few holes and it’s frayed at the ankles but she’d never complain. “If you fall into luck, don’t forget me.”

“Never.”

You both say your goodbyes and you try your best to not cry at the sadness that clings to Abigail’s form as she hobbles back to her little nook. You take a breath and pick a direction to walk in.

You think about going to the river first, to get a little cleaned up before you go looking for somewhere to sleep for the night. You’re already regretting leaving the comfort that Abigail provided. You know she wouldn’t blame you if you turned right around and dragged yourself back. You’ve already made your mind up, though – it’s better this way.

You don’t have a gauge on the time, but the sun’s getting quite low. It streaks the sky in orange and pink, hiding behind a fluffy white cloud as it makes its slow decent. You might be able to make it to the river and back before night falls completely if you hurry. So you walk, and walk, and it’s a long way past the street Abigail first found you, where the city meets a forest edge.

You once asked Abigail why she didn’t live closer to the river, you worry about her most days, taking her frail self through the streets for such a long walk just to get here. She’d told you that even though some of your street dwelling comrades are friendly, most aren’t, and would do the worst to get what they need. It’s too risky to be close to the river where all manner of folk pass to get to it.

You tuck your bag to your front and keep an ear out for anyone that may be in the area. You grimace as the twigs and stones of the forest floor poke at your feet. Your shoes were on their last, they kept your feet warm most days, but they’re biting holes into your last good pair of socks. The trees get sparse the further in you go, and over the tweeting and chittering of the forest critters, there’s the sound of rushing water.

You break out of the trees and stand on the little edge where the forest pauses and the soft wet dirt begins. The river is a bit wild today, rushing through the rocks as it makes its way from wherever it starts. You know there must be a spring somewhere deeper if you follow the river back, but you don’t have the time to as the setting sun makes the forest look darker already. You wouldn’t like to be out here at night.

You slip out of your shoes and socks, wanting to keep them dry and walk down to the bank. Abigail has a little spot between three large boulders where she hides things. The spot is covered with leaves and sticks, and you dig through it to find the old blue bucket. It’s missing it’s handle and turned over to keep things under it.

There’s a new pack of soap powder that’s already been opened, a little square plastic bowl that’s probably seen better days on a dish rack and half of a soap bar. You pull the bucket out of its hiding place, taking just a handful of the soap powder and tossing it into the bucket. You tuck the powder into a corner of the rock with the soap bar on top of it and carry the bucket over to the river.

You rummage through your bag to find the clothes that needed cleaning, and put them in the bucket with the soap. It takes a moment of scooping water from the river and pouring it into the bucket. All the while you’re wondering where Abigail scored the soap powder from. A lot of things are hard to come by, but some people make trades with the little they’ve got. You feel a little guilty as you watch the water and soap soak into your clothes, though you know she wouldn’t mind if its you – you’re the only two that know where she keeps her stuff hidden – but still.

The soap smells sweet, and fresh in a way you haven’t smelt in a while. With the sun long gone behind the trees but still lighting the sky a bit, you wash your clothes as quickly as you can. You throw the soapy water on the bank and not back in the river, and rinse your clothes out just as quick.

There’s no time to wait for them to dry, with the sun being as low as it is and the wind baring its teeth. So you wring them out and pull out the plastic handle bag you keep folded in one of your backpack pockets to stuff them into.

It’s completely dark out once you’ve put the bucket back and covered Abigail’s things again and made your way back out of the forest. You would’ve liked to take a quick wash, but it’s too dark and the water’s too cold now. You’ll come back tomorrow when the sun’s high and hot.

You walk in a different direction than the way you came, looking for the little park that Abigail mentioned once. Its completely dark by the time you get there, your feet aching from the long walk and your mind muddled with thoughts.

You would often remind yourself not to think too hard, as your thoughts would often lead you to a dark place you find difficult to crawl out of. You would often regret not having people close enough to call good friends, maybe then you wouldn’t be out here.

You didn’t have a difficult life; you grew up in a loving home with both parents making sure that you were happy and not too spoilt by the fruits of their labour. You know the value of things and you know well to act like your parents raised you with some sense. Your mother passed when you were ten, and your father remarried when you were sixteen. You couldn’t understand why, your father loved your mother so much and you thought it would just be you and him against the world. You understood that your mother wouldn’t want him to live the rest of his life overshadowed by her passing and forget to continue living. So when he introduced you to the woman he met on a business trip, looking happier than he had in six years, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that something was off.

Your mother had always taught you to see the good in people, to give them the benefit of a doubt. There was no mistaking the thinly veiled disgust in your step mother’s eyes when she would look at you. She was quite young, compared to your father, anyway, and as the years went by, he spoilt her. He gave her whatever she wanted when she wanted it as long as it made her happy and you could only watch from the sidelines.

Your father fell ill, and everything went downhill from there.

When he passed, your world shattered and crumbled, leaving you standing in the rubble grasping at the wisps of it slipping through your fingers. Things were okay, for a while, grieving the loss of your father and trying to move on and step without him. Then the news of his will came not long after he was buried.

Your father left everything for his wife, the house, his money, and as you’d found on the first night you were out here, the savings account your mother had set up for you.

You had nothing.

You’d always kept to yourself growing up, and never let anyone closer than you would allow. You were home-schooled – all the way up to your tertiary education – and had no friends to speak of. Your parents never spoke of their family, all you knew and had were your mother and father.

It’s been a while since then. A good long while. It was hard to adjust to having everything at the tip of your fingers to having it ripped away all at once.

The first week was hard. You’d worked odd jobs here and there to keep your head above the water. Sleeping in a motel every night wasn’t ideal, especially since you had to buy food and every thing else. The little money you had ran out quickly, even when you pawned the possessions you did own it wasn’t enough.

You’ve had time to adjust since then. You met Abigail and things were as okay as they could’ve been considering. You remember, she had been pestering you about why you were pacing around on that bridge when she found you.

The deep rushing water below it had looked inviting – an easy way out. No one would’ve missed you, anyway.

You take a breath in sharply, and it burns. Cold air fills your lungs with little pinpricks as night fully settles. You try not to think about anything more as you walk through the park.

It looks empty, large trees and neat grass fields and cobbled walkways. There are dark metal benches scattered about, a trickle of water you can’t pinpoint coming from somewhere.

You’d just stay here for tonight, and find somewhere you wouldn’t be in trouble to stay at in the morning. You’re pretty sure you’re breaking some law being who you are as you sit down on the bench. It’s uncomfortable, the metal cold and biting, but you’d just have to deal for the night.

You dig through your backpack, pulling out the plastic bag with your damp clothes, a jacket that’s still in good condition and the canned peach Abigail sent you off with.

You spread your clothes out on the back of the bench, and you’re hoping they dry properly even if the air feels a little damp.

With a soft sigh, you lift the circular pin on the lid of the can and pull. The peaches are cut into slices and swimming in a sweet juice, and with some guilt you pick a piece out. It’s sweeter than anything you’ve had in a while, and for a moment you feel like crying.

You feel tears burn your eyes and nose as you chew the fruit, washing it down with a sip of the juice that tastes slightly like the can. It wasn’t long before it was all gone, your fingers sticky with the juice and you stare into the empty can with a frown. You wonder about Abigail and if she’s okay right now.

Setting the can down near the foot of the bench that’s bolted into the cobblestone path, you lay back. The sky is fairly clear, with a little smattering of wispy clouds floating by and stars that twinkle in the distance.

Drifting off slowly, you try to find a comfortable position to sleep in – though there isn’t one with this metal bench. Your jacket thrown over you as a makeshift blanket.

You’re not certain how long you sleep for, but when you wake, its to a tapping on your shoulder. The air is thick with something as you breathe in, and a lot damper than it was when you’d settled.

“Ma’am.” A voice calls, prodding your shoulder again, “Hello, miss?”

You open your eyes and your blood runs cold at the sight of the man in uniform standing above you. You sit up, excuses dancing at the tip of your tongue before you realised you could barely see past your nose.

The officer is holding a flashlight, the beam directed somewhere off to your right. A thick fog had settled while you slept, swirling way past the officer’s head.

“I’m sorry, but you can’t sleep here. This is a private park.” His words aren’t unkind, they come out gentle and a little pitying, as though he regrets having to do his job of keeping the riffraff out. He lets you gather your things, stuffing your still damp clothes back into your bag.

He takes a step back when you stand, “If you need somewhere to stay, there’s a shelter not far from here. Couple blocks that way.” He waves his flashlight behind you, towards the park’s exit, “Can’t miss it.”

You could barely see the guy, much less which way exactly he’s directing you to. You turn, squinting at the way you think he pointed. “Thank you... I’m really sorry about –”

“Don’t worry about it...just keep walking straight and you’ll find it.”

He motions with his flashlight again and you take two steps away before stopping and turning back, “Sorry but...the fog...which way...”

The man is gone, no sign of him having been there in the first place. It’s quiet, not even insects are chirping, you don’t hear any retreating footsteps. You stare at the spot he was just in, but didn’t want to linger lest he comes back and he’s decidedly less kind.

You hike your bag up on your shoulder, squinting to see through the fog as you walk towards the exit. The roads are empty, there’s the soft clicking of the traffic lights and the glow of shop lights and street lamps that make it a little bit easier to see. You still look both ways before walking quickly across the street, keeping straight like the officer told you.

It’s quiet, and honestly, it freaks you out a bit. You don’t think it’s that late, and even so, there should be people out and about. You don’t even think you slept for that long, it couldn’t have been more than an hour. There’s no reason for no one to be around, then again, you don’t know this area very well.

You walk for some time, the sound of your footsteps and your steady breaths your only company. You’re keeping your eyes peeled for any sign of the shelter, staring up at the glowing signs and squinting to see through the fog. You passed a convenience store, a pharmacy and a pet shop, all closed and dark inside. You’ve crossed two roads so far; it shouldn’t be much more walking...unless a couple of blocks have two different meanings between you and the officer.

You stop for a moment, taking a breath that settles heavy and damp in your chest. You look back the way you came, look at the signs of the buildings across the street and the one you’re outside of. You can’t see much more than that unless you keep walking straight.

You’re beginning to wonder if he’d only said so to get you out of the park. You take a couple of steps forward and then stop, looking over your shoulder. Your brows furrow and the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end.

It’s said that the mind always knows when you’re being watched, a sixth sense to be aware when someone is staring at you.

You feel watched.

And it isn’t an ordinary feeling.

It feels off, like some primal switch just flicked up in your brain. Briefly, you think that this is how a bunny feels being cornered by a fox. Your heart suddenly kicks against your ribs and something in the back of your mind screams for you to move.

You press forward, the feeling lingers, and intensifies. You walk as quickly as you can, your once steady breaths loud and harsh in the quietness of the night. You try not to look behind you as your ears pick up on the sound of another pair of footsteps. They match yours, and you’re not too certain if it’s just really your own bouncing off the walls of the buildings. When you stop, they stop, and start back up again when you start.

There’s another sound below it. Something snarls like a dog somewhere in the distance behind you, but, like everything else about this moment in this fog, it sounds wrong. Like it’s coming from a creature that’s trying to mimic the sound of an animal.

You stop dead in your tracks, goosebumps rippling along your skin like a wave from the top of your head and downwards. You take a breath, and with one foot in front of the other – you sprint.

Your footfalls are loud in the quiet, and even through your panic you notice the change of the footsteps that mimicked yours. There’s two more with it that falls in rhythm, like a large beast running on all fours.

It’s running faster than you are, the pounding of its feet against the pavement is double the speed of your own. You feel like your lungs are about to burst, your legs burning, and the damp air becomes fire in your throat when you breathe.

Whatever it is snarls again, and it sounds way closer than it was before. You could almost feel the sound rumble through you, and something hot fans at the back of your neck. You nearly trip, stumbling over your own feet in an attempt to run faster. You round a corner blindly, hoping to throw whatever it is off your trail and smack right into someone.

With your momentum, you’d think that you would send yourself and the person sprawling to the hard concrete. The terrified scream you let out rings in your own ears, high pitched and shrill, as you bounce back, falling in a heap. There’s a sharp twinge in your wrist as you brace, and a stinging in your palm when you just barely managed to catch yourself.

“Shit!” the person exclaims – a man, if the deep timbre of his voice was anything to go by. “Are you okay?!”

The man crouches down and you scramble back, then remember that you crashed into him because you were running from something and the panic comes back.

“I—there’s ... Something’s following me! It chased me all the way here...It’s—”

“Hey, hey...it’s okay...you’re fine.” The man seems to look behind you. You could barely see his face, even with him being as close as he was; the fog just seems to get thicker. “It’s just us out here...”

His voice suddenly seems hesitant, and you wouldn’t blame him if he thought you were crazy.

You breathing is still erratic, heart still trying to pound its way out of your chest.

The man’s hands hover at your shoulders, and there’s worry in his tone when he speaks again. “It’s okay. You’re alright, nothing’s out here but us.”

He takes your hand – the one that’s not holding your weight – and presses it to his chest. You almost jump out of your skin at the contact, but his own heart is steady, beating a slow rhythm against his sternum. “Breathe with me.”

He takes a deep breath in, and you feel his chest expand as his lungs fill, you try your best. Your throat is burning, and every breath feels like fine glass is swirling at the back of your mouth. It takes a moment, but eventually, your breaths match his and the adrenaline seeps out with your every exhale.

Your brain finally registers the throbbing of your wrist and palm, and the ache in your sides.

“There you go.” You can faintly make out the smile that spreads across the man’s face, heart shaped and pretty white teeth. “Good now?”

You nod, just barely, and he releases your hand. There’s a shuffling and the sound of a zipper and then he’s holding a bottle of water out to you. You eye it with some suspicion, and he picks up on it.

“It’s just water, promise.” He says, wiggling the bottle a little. “The seal isn’t cracked or anything.”

You take your weight off your palm, wincing at the hot flash of pain from the movement. You right yourself a little, taking the water from him with your uninjured hand and a soft thanks.

“Oh...here...” he keeps the bottle steady in your hand with a palm under the bottom of it, and the other cracking the seal with a twist. He lifts the bottle to your lips and you take a sip, and then a gulp, “Easy, not too fast.”

The water is cool, and a blessing, you didn’t realise how thirsty you were. When you’ve drank at least half of the bottle, the man puts the cap back on and leaves it in your hold.

“Were you looking for something?” he asks gently, and you nod.

“The homeless shelter...I think I’m lost now, though.”

The man tilts his head, “There aren’t any shelters in this area...you’re on the wrong side of the city if that’s what you were looking for.”

You stare at him for a moment, “...Oh.” The officer really did just say it, then. You’re not sure what to say to the man and you glance around at the street that’s still teeming with the thick fog.

You’re not sure what to say to him, and instead, look around the street for any sign of the shelter even though he’d said there isn’t one.

“I think the fog’s lifting...” The man mumbles. The fog is clearing; it’s easier to see further down the street and the man in front of you. He presses his palms against his knees and stands, looking around for a moment before looking down at you. “There aren’t any shelters around...but...I can help you. If you want, I live a bit that way, and I’ve got an extra room...”

This is a bad idea.

He’s quite tall, on the lean side with long limbs. He’s wearing a long black coat, and his black, suede shoes look just as expensive as the watch that peeks from the end of his sleeve at his wrist. The white tee shirt he wears looks a little billowy, like it would swallow his frame once he takes the coat off. He turns a little and you get to admire the sharp cut of his jaw and the elegant slope of his nose.

“I won’t hurt you or anything. I just want to help.” He says, turning back to you. His eyes are dark, but kind as he offers a hand to help you off the concrete. “I’m Hoseok.”

You take his hand, and there’s nothing in the back of your mind telling you to get away. Nothing in his body language that shows ill intent, and you have to remind yourself that some people are simply kind.

He helps you to your feet and you thank him softly, giving him your name. His smile is soft as he nods, lips turned up slightly at the corners, eyes squinted just a bit.

“If you don’t want to, that’s okay. It’s a bit late, though, and you’d have to walk a long way to find the shelter...” Hoseok says softly.

You’re still holding his hand, and the warmth of it grounds you. You honestly shouldn’t, really, you’re smart enough to know you shouldn’t follow random men promising kindness. He really looks like a good person, quietly waiting for your answer as he gives you chance to change your mind should you wish.

He doesn’t rush you, and briefly you wonder if he doesn’t have anything else to do. He was clearly going about his business before you tackled him, though that word should be used lightly considering you’re the one who ended up on the ground.

“Okay...thank you.” When you finally speak his smile broadens, showing pretty teeth and still holding your hand, he leads you in the direction he was coming from before. You feel a bit bad, turning his night on its head and probably inconveniencing him.

The fog is lighter now, the air not as thick with it as you follow along. Hoseok didn’t talk much, not once mentioning your pitiful state of dress, or asking any questions. You’re grateful, not many people would go out of their way to open their homes to someone without one.

The place he leads you to looks expensive and you feel out of place. The road winds and twists into a residential area with houses and three storey apartments. There are cars parked in driveways, neatly trimmed grass and hedges, a fence around every tree. Lampposts dot the sidewalk every thirty or so steps, casting their orange glows across every surface.

Across from there, the road veers off into a more commercial area, with fancier housing and shops and a tall, looming hotel. The streets are quiet, shops already closed for the night and you wonder what time it is. There doesn’t seem to be anyone around, save for you and Hoseok making your way towards the hotel.

The doors slide open with a little mechanical whir, and you balk at the sheer size of the lobby alone. Light fixtures hang from the ceiling, bouncing their glows off of shiny surfaces. There are red and black lounge seats along a far wall, coffee tables of black tempered glass between them and the single seated chairs across. On the other side of the lobby is a little open cafe area, closed of course, with comfortable looking chairs tucked under tables.

There are two elevators, one of which you assume to be for staff. The reception area is a counter space of smooth looking white marble, though no one sits behind it.

Hoseok leads you to the elevator, pressing the button to call it down. You’ve let go of his hand now, as you take in the sight of the place. You wonder what anyone would think seeing someone like you in here. With your shabby clothes that’s seen better days, your dirty sneakers and backpack that looks like it’s moments away from just splitting apart.

There’s no one to see you, as the elevator comes down and opens with a ding. You catch sight of your reflection in the elevator walls, and grimace, regretting not bracing the cold river earlier. You definitely look homeless, your last bath was exactly two days ago, you look grubby standing just a little bit behind Hoseok. Anyone who would see you now would definitely turn their nose up at you and outright ask what you’re doing in their pristine hotel. Though, there isn’t much you can do to prevent that.

When the doors slide close you focus on the button panel, and next to it is a key card scanner and a button under it. The word penthouse is neatly labelled on the button in little black letters, and Hoseok fishes around his coat to pull out a key card. You blink, of course he lives in the penthouse.

The scanner beeps softly and Hoseok presses the button that glows a soft blue before the elevator lurches slight and ascends.

You fiddle nervously with your fingers in front of you, keeping your eyes on your shoes. There’s a shuffle and Hoseok turns to look at you, he’s smiling kindly again, something like pity woven into it and you feel a coil of shame twist in your chest.

“I’m sorry...” You say without much reason, glancing at him and then back down, “For the trouble.”

“No trouble.” Hoseok says softly, concern on his brow, his hand reaching out but stopping short, as though he’s not sure if he could touch you. You’re surprised he even want to. Heck, you’re surprised he’s doing any of this at all. “Really.”

“Do you usually take in random homeless people?” You ask, and his chuckle is light and teasing.

“Only the cute ones.” He says and then looks a little mortified, “Sorry. I’m kidding. It’s just...you looked like you really needed help...so I’m helping.”

“You’re very kind.” You murmur and offer a smile.

He smiles back, not as brightly as his other ones, it curls his mouth less, doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He nods, “I try to be.”

The elevator slows to a stop, doors sliding open to a little well-lit hallway. On the other end of the hall is a wide pane of glass that overlooks the city lights, twinkling in a dance of their own making, and an emergency exit sign jutting out of the wall. You follow Hoseok out of the elevator towards the door which he unlocks with a password — the beeps loud in the quiet — the door opens with a soft thunk and a beep and he lets you walk in first.

The lights are on, as though he’d only planned to be out for a moment. You’re not too sure what to do with yourself now that you’re here, staring at Hoseok’s back unsurely as he takes his shoes off and tucks them neatly on a shoe rack.

He turns to face you, “I don’t mean anything by this, so please don’t misunderstand...”

You nod, waiting for him to continue.

He seems to weigh his words carefully, “Do you want to take a bath?”

You flush, yeah, you surely look grubby enough for him to ask that. It’s warranted, so, you’re not upset that he asked. You’d actually love to, when was the last time you took a bath that wasn’t in the freezing river?

Still though, it’s embarrassing. So you nod silently, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, looking genuinely relieved. “You can leave your stuff here and I’ll take care of everything.”

“Okay...” You step out of your shoes, nudging them in a corner before you take your bag off and set it down. The clothes you have are still damp, stuffed in a plastic bag somewhere in the depths of your tattered backpack and Hoseok doesn’t give you a moment before he’s leading you through his home.

The chill of the grey tiled floor runs up your legs through your thin, threadbare socks. You don’t have much time to look around, but you’re aware you’ve passed an open space kitchen and living room, splashes of white, reds and black in the corner of your vision.

He lets you into the bathroom, “Use whatever you need. The towels and things are in the cabinet.”

You turn to face him, “I really can’t thank you enough.” You say earnestly, and he waves you off, turning to leave and shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

“I’ll bring you some clothes that you could use.” He says through the door, his voice muffled. You thank him again and his footsteps trail away.

You turn and glance around the bathroom, floor to ceiling glass panes makes up the furthest wall. Before it is a porcelain bathtub that could easily fit three people, on a raised platform of white stained marble, and that platform on another, creating a single step up in order to get into the tub. The colour of the platforms compliments the dark reflective marble floor. The undersides of the platforms are lined with what you assume must be LED lights, glowing a pale white along the bottom.

The same LEDs line the back of the large wall mounted mirror, giving it an ominous glow. Below the mirror is a dark granite sink with a faucet you’re not even sure how to turn on. The cabinet below the sink house only cleaning supplies, and you look around for the towel space.

The shower takes up nearly the whole wall it’s connected to, frosted glass and jets embedded into the wall.  

You walk over to the shower and realise that was wall beside it sorts of curve and you let out a surprised sound when you walk the short way towards the back of it. The ‘cabinet’ is more of a little walk-in closet, there’s a few fluffy looking bathrobes sorted by length and colour, and towels and washcloths stacked on shelves that match.

Under those are neat little space savers filled with bath oils and shower gels, sweet scented candles tucked into corners. Bar soaps and toilet paper on their own shelves at the bottom, unopened toothbrushes and what have you.

There’s enough room to turn full circle without bumping into anything if you step into it. But you look at your hands and decide to not touch anything until they're clean.

So you walk back out to the sink, frowning at the faucet with no visible way to turn it on; it’s just a sleek piece of metal that curves back into the basin. You look at it to and fro and wave your hand under it, startling slightly when water sprays from the faucet. You hold your hand away and it turns off after a moment. Now, your parents had money but it wasn’t anything like this.

You can’t imagine the cost of this place.

You find hand soap after peeking into the cabinet below the sink again, taking your time to thoroughly wash your hands clean. It’s hard to see the dirt go down the drain against the dark granite, but you’re grateful. You inspect your hands once your done, and finally allow yourself to touch Hoseok’s things. You take a towel down from the shelf, the one that’s at the top of the pile. It’s a nice pale yellow, and near the bottom right corner is a little blue butterfly embroidered into the fabric. After a little debate with yourself, you pull the washcloth that matches from its pile.

You set the towel on the closed lid of the toilet, and strip out of your clothes. You fold them neatly and set them on the floor along with your socks, stuffing your underwear into the pocket of your jacket. You step into the shower and pull the door shut behind you.

You turn the knobs and adjust the water so that’s it not too hot, and for a moment, you simply stand there. The water flows over your skin in rivulets, washing away the sweat and grime of the past two days. You try not to take too long, but made sure that you’re thoroughly scrubbed clean. You try not to use too much of Hoseok’s things, even though he’d told you to use whatever you needed.

You’re not sure how long you were in there, how long you stood letting the water wash away your tears as well.

When you step out, steam billowing put behind you, you wiggle your toes into the fluffy cotton mat under you, wrapping the towel around your form. It feels nice to be clean, skin feeling a little raw from the hot water. You tiptoe to the door and ease it open, and it pushes lightly against a bundle of folded clothes on the ground. Next to it, a pair of warm looking house slippers that you shuffle into immediately after drying your feet.

The clothes: a dark grey long sleeve crew neck tee that hangs just a little off one shoulder, a pair of boxer shorts still in it’s wrapping, and long fleece lined sweatpants that you have to fold at your ankles.

Near the door is a towel rack where you hang the towel you used to dry, and after taking a breath, you step out of the bathroom.

You walk back the way Hoseok led you, and the air is prickled with the scent of freshly made food and it makes you wonder just how long you took in the bathroom.

The kitchen is a wide space, between the area that makes up the entrance hallway is a kitchen island, and much like everything else you’ve seen, is a long, polished slab of dark marble. There’s a sink in the middle, sleek and silver and soft white light comes from the fixings above it. Across from that is a large refrigerator, an electric stove and more counter space. There are a few scattered appliances, a coffee maker and a small espresso machine tucked under a cupboard over them, and a blender with something or the other in it.

Hoseok stands with his back to you, he turns slightly, looking over his shoulder and startles.

“Oh – shit.” He laughs softly, “Hey, was your bath okay?”

“Sorry...” You apologize for scaring him and he waves you off, turning to face you fully. He scans your form but there’s nothing odd in the action, and he nods to himself at whatever he was looking for. “Oh, yeah. My bath was okay, thank you.”

“Dinner’s ready if you...oh...” he glances to the side, back to you and then to whatever he’s got going on the stovetop. “...This might be too heavy for you right now...” He murmurs to himself, a hand scratching at the back of his neck. He looks sheepish, a little guilty about something he didn’t consider.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll eat whatever it is.” You’re not about to make him waste his food, or be impolite.

“Okay, well.” He presses a button on the stove panel, turning to the island. There’s the sound of a drawer opening and he pulls out a kitchen towel, smiling at you. He nods his head to the right, where, tucked to the wall is a modest sized wooden table. There’re two plates of what he’s made already there, and tall glasses of water. “Go ahead.”

You walk over to the table, pulling out the chair to sit. Dinner is creamy mashed potatoes, a hearty portion of steamed mixed veggies and steak that’s somehow done to your liking and already cut into pieces. Your mouth waters at the sight and it smells so good you could cry. Hoseok isn’t finished at the island, so you busy yourself with folding the sleeves of your borrowed tee-shirt up and out of the way.

When he comes over he frowns a little, “You didn’t have to wait, dove.” He takes his seat opposite you, “Please, eat.”

The random pet name flies over your head, not that you would’ve been bothered by it had you been paying attention. Hoseok was kind enough to open his home to you, let you use his things and now he’s feeding you. He could call you whatever he likes.

You murmur a thank you and dig into your food. The sound you make when you take the first bite borders on erotic, but your gracious host doesn’t seem to mind very much. There’s a pleased glint in his eyes and a small curl to his mouth as he watches you eat for a moment.

You’re too hungry to be embarrassed by the intensity of his stare, but you’re mindful to not choke or look like you left your manners somewhere at your feet.

The food settles in your stomach, heavy but it’s a feeling you welcome. You could barely remember the last time you had a full meal. The bite you swallow brings the odd feeling of it slowing down behind your sternum, and you take a long drink of the cold water Hoseok had set out for you.

The man himself barely touched his own food, seemingly content to watch you scarf yours down. He has his chin propped in his hand, a small curl to the corner of his mouth and a glint of something in his eyes.

“Thank you...for the food.” You stare at your plate, drizzled with gravy and what’s left of your dinner. You can’t meet his gaze and you’re not certain why, and the intensity of it is starting to gnaw on your senses.

“No need for thanks, little dove.” Hoseok says, and there’s a soft clink when he finally picks his fork up and it knocks against the round rim of the plate. “Just doing my good deed for the day.”

The pet name strikes you this time, no longer distracted by the delicious food and your rumbling tummy. The way it rolls off his tongue sends a shiver racing down your spine, one that was decidedly unpleasant. There’s something in his tone, the way he stares when you raise your eyes to meet his, something in his beautiful heart shaped smile.

The fine hairs at the back of your neck raises, and you’re back to feeling like a bunny in a fox’s burrow. It was the same feeling you’d gotten earlier in the strange fog; the primal sense that you’re no longer the apex.

Something like a bell jingles in the back of your mind and grows louder until its a wailing alarm.

You should leave. Thank him for being so kind and get as far away from him as possible.

The look in his eyes unnerves you, but it’s something you can’t put a finger on. Just off the edge of his form something flutters, a shadow that shouldn’t be there, but it’s gone so quickly you didn’t have time to focus on it. The feeling intensifies; tugging, now.

You don’t think he’s blinked.

A shudder runs through you, rippling along your skin like a shockwave and Hoseok is calling your name.

“Are you okay?” there’s concern on his brow, his unoccupied hand raised in a wave as though he’s been trying to get your attention for a while. “Do you feel sick?”

“N... no. I’m fine, thank you.” You try to smile, but you’re pretty certain it looks as strained as it feels. He was almost done eating, though he’s paused to asses you with furrowed brows. You feel like you’ve missed something in the past minute.

“I asked if you wanted more food but you just blanked on me.” Hoseok sets his fork down and you feel like you’re losing your mind. The feeling from before is gone, and you’re not even certain if you felt it in the first place. Maybe you’re tired, or maybe the feeling of the comforts you’ve missed for so long is messing with your head.

Hoseok looks perfectly normal, there’s nothing flickering at his back or anything odd in his stare.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure.” You don’t feel certain, and if Hoseok noticed he didn’t comment on it. You pick up the fork again, scraping up the little left of your food onto it quietly. You feel strange, as though the past two minutes moved by too quickly, or like they happened weeks ago and you’re struggling to cling to the details of them.

Hoseok is focused on his plate, and uncertainty at the hope that he keeps his eyes there blooms in your chest. You’re not sure why.

It’s awkwardly quiet for a couple moments, with Hoseok finishing his meal and you, playing with the folded ends of your borrowed tee-shirt. When he was done, he takes the plates and the empty glasses to the sink to clean them and you sit idly at the table.

He’s drying his hands with a dark kitchen towel when he’s done, settling at the edge of the island and facing you. The overhead lights glow against his form, casting shadows along his visage that makes him look sharper; menacing. It clings to his hair like a depiction of something holy, making his dark hair look russet in the gleam.

You go to thank him again, even though he’d probably wave you off like he’s been doing the whole time, but the lights are too bright. The glow of the lights swells and flood your eyes, you squeeze them shut, trying to dispel the ache that comes with it. You turn your head and it feels like you’re neck deep in mud, it takes too much effort to do something so simple.

Panic wells in your chest, sending your heart kicking against your ribs harshly. You take a breath, well, you try, but it gets stuck somewhere in your throat and you choke on it.

There’s two Hoseoks when you peel your eyes open, and they neatly fold the towel they were using and put it down. For a minute, your vision settles, and the man leans against the island nonchalantly, crossing his arms and tilting his head as he watches you spiral.

“You should try to calm down.” He says softly, and you hate the way you cling to the sound of his voice when it’s very clear what’s happening.

“Wh...” Your tongue feels heavy, and the words you try to say are slurred and unintelligible. You move to stand, trying to get away even when your limbs feel like there’s a ball and chains at the ends of them. The world tilts on an axis, doubling as you make to your feet, you’re not sure if it’s leaning or you are.

Hoseok reaches you in a single step and a strangled sound escapes you. He places a hand on your shoulder, gently guiding you back into the chair. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing your body can’t handle.”

You can barely hear him, your ears feel as though there’s cotton in them, reducing his words to a muddled murmur. You can’t feel the way his fingers curl into the hair at your nape, but you notice the shift as he tilts your heavy head back to look up at him.

He’s smiling, you think. Pretty and heart shaped, all white teeth and sinister. And there’s that feeling again, as he says something you can’t hear, can’t focus, your eyes are closing.

There’s something dark and broken that flickers against the light above his head and shadows that dance at his back.

When the morning came and you didn’t wake, Hoseok wasn’t too concerned. He watched over you as once was his duty to another, tucked you into the sheets and the blankets and let you sink into the warmth of them. He sits in a chair at your bedside, simply watching the rise and fall of your chest and the pinch of your brow as sweat beads upon it.

Your body is fighting hard to flush out what he put in, and he admits, he may have given you a bit too much of it. It wasn’t his intention, but nothing can be done now but wait for you to come to.

When the afternoon comes and the first sign of your conscious shows in a weak attempt to rouse yourself, and a jumble of words that Hoseok deciphers with a well-trained ear it; was clear you weren’t fully there yet. Your skin was too warm, eyes not nearly focused enough, barely looking at him, and then the contents of your stomach come in a rush of bile and acid.

Hoseok tends to you gently, patiently, taking you to the bath and settling you in a way so that you don’t slip under and drown in your unconscious state. He cleans your mess, changes the bedding, puts you in a fresh set of clothes and lays you back to rest.

You stay asleep throughout the day, and Hoseok isn’t too concerned.

Humans are such fragile, foolish things. To him, you’re a porcelain doll, pretty to stare at and admire if it sits on the top of a shelf behind a case. Take it out of that case and it’s so easily broken. Hoseok is like a child in a sandbox of his own creation with too much power in his fingers. If he isn’t careful, he could shatter your form and lose you to the dunes.

The fear you felt the night before played you directly into his hands – never mind he had nothing to do with it – and Hoseok knows, you don’t have to be inclined to feel the weight of his presence. Your mind knew that something wasn’t quite right -- unconsciously or not --, and yet, you willingly followed.

Foolish.

Though, it was purely coincidental that you ran into him, he had been on his way to somewhere and wondering about the strangeness of the fog that rolled in out of nowhere. He hadn’t missed the weird quiet and lack of people either, it hadn’t been that late.

He doesn’t know exactly what you were doing in it, running around the way you were like a mouse in a maze. It’s something that sits at the back of his mind.

The morning of the second day brought no change; you were in and out of your drug induced sleep, and now, Hoseok was a little concerned.

::

“How much did you give her?”

There’s a squeak of leather as Seungcheol crosses his arms, when it’s quiet for far too long he gives Hoseok a look.

“A little.”

Seungcheol leans over your sleeping form, raising a hand to rest against your forehead. Hoseok would think you were dead if it weren’t for the steady rise and fall of your chest.

“If it was a little, you wouldn’t have called.” Seungcheol says, shaking his head, the dark waves of his hair brushing his eyelashes.

“Well, she’s not dead.”

“Dude.” Seungcheol looks a little disturbed, straightening to stare at Hoseok with a displeased furrow in his brow. “You can’t just – humans have limitations.”

“I’m aware, Cheol. Thank you.” Hoseok grumbles, and he ignores the raise of Seungcheol’s eyebrow and the clear disbelief in his eyes.

“‘Course you are.” He rolls his eyes and then sighs lowly, he turns back to you, placing his hand on your forehead again until the tension in your face fades. “Don’t give her any more of that shit. She should wake up sometime today, maybe.”

Hoseok knows better than anyone the limitations of humans. Not that he acknowledges them, he hadn’t the need to in a long time, but he should be careful at least.

Hoseok leads the way out of his guest bedroom with Seungcheol following and closing the door gently behind him. Walking to the kitchen he could feel his eyes burning into the back of his head.

Hoseok takes his time, fetching a glass from one of his cupboards and the whisky he keeps stashed away for his more stressful days. “Spit it out.”

Seungcheol braces his arms on the other side of the island, eyes dark. “Hoseok. I normally don’t care what you get up to; it’s not my business.” He says, looking somewhere to Hoseok’s right. “You don’t fuck around with humans. Who’s the girl?”

Hoseok hums, looking down at the amber liquid in his glass with a contemplative stare. “Street urchin. No one anyone would miss or bother to look for.”

“So you just took her off the street?” Seungcheol frowns, but Hoseok could tell from the look in his eyes that he knows it’s not that simple.

“She came willingly.” Hoseok corrects, taking a sip of the alcohol he could barely taste.

He sets the glass down on the island and pours the whisky to fill half. Seungcheol is quiet, and Hoseok hates it. It gives his mind a moment to wonder, to open a box he’s kept locked and chained.

On most days, Hoseok barely knows himself. He remembers what he’s supposed to be – what he was – and sometimes, that part of him rears its head to fight with what he’s become. Wings dipped in gold and divinity at the end of his fingertips battle endlessly with the shadows that encased him.

A memory of a time he held something as fragile as glass in his hands, broken before he could properly hold it by someone who was supposed to keep it safe. The ache of it burns like a rash that never goes away, always there, only hiding under his skin until it flares up again.

“Just... don’t do anything stupid.” Seungcheol says after a while, watching Hoseok carefully.

“You and your moral compass.” Hoseok shakes his head, and just like that, the golden light is bundled up tightly and pushed back into the corner where he long hid it.

Seungcheol heaves a sigh, shaking his head, picking up his bag he threw on the island counter when he got here.

“I need you to do something for me.” Hoseok says, watching the light shine through the glass in pretty crystal shapes. There’s a furrow of Seungcheol’s brows, but he tells Hoseok to continue with a raise of his chin. “Keep an eye out for a fog.”

“A fog? Why?”

“She was in one the night before.” Hoseok sucks air in through his teeth, “and she wasn’t alone.”

Seungcheol hums, “Alright.”

Hoseok drinks the last of the whisky in one go and waves a hand at Seungcheol, “You can go now.”

“Thank you, Cheol. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” Seungcheol grumbles and then raps his knuckles against the countertop. “I’ll be over here for a few days, gotta sort some things out. Call if you need me.”

Hoseok watches him leave, stuffing his hands into his pocket as he walks back to the bedroom where you still lay asleep.

He sits on the chair, watching the rise and fall of your chest, every minute twitch of your facial features. Restlessness tugs at his limbs as the sun makes its descent western sky, spraying the dimming canvas in hues of lilac and peach.

Something in the back of his mind asks what exactly he’s doing. There was no reason – there wasn’t a reason for him to take you in. A sprout of boredom, maybe, or something involuntary.

Hoseok stares out the window at the slowly darkening sky and the soft glimmer of early evening stars, until the sky is navy and darkness clings to the room.

Your mouth feels like someone’s stuffed cotton in it, and your throat feels like sandpaper when you try to swallow.

You haven’t opened your eyes, laying on what you presume is a bed, if the softness beneath you was anything to go by.

There’s not much that you remember, even as the fog in your mind clears little by little. You remember eating, you remember feeling strange like someone had shrunk you and shook you around in a jar of water. You remember the fear that quickened your heart and your breaths and Hoseok, standing above you like a malevolent God.

You remember the strangeness of his form, and even now your mind can’t comprehend it. You’re not even certain if what you saw was actually real and not an effect of whatever Hoseok had drugged you with.

Drugged.

He drugged you.

Your eyes open and the room is dark. The blankets are thick and heavy and they make you feel warm. There’s a window to your far left, curtains drawn back to show the city in all it’s glory.

Slowly, you sit up, pushing yourself upwards on arms that feel a little weak, and find – to your horror – the clothes you were wearing before aren’t what you’re wearing now.

You take a breath before the panic could set in. You could feel it rolling under your skin like a rumble of thunder before rain, and you try your best to stay calm. You need to find a way out of here.

The apartment seems to be quiet as you slide your feet out of the bed and onto the floor. You barely register the chill of it when you stand, sock-less feet making it easier to sneak over to the door without making a sound. You don’t know where Hoseok put your things, and you don’t have time to go looking for them.

The door isn’t locked, and doesn’t make noise when you push it open slightly to peek out through the little gap you made. You recognise the hallway, the bathroom is two doors down on the other side, and opening the door a little more, you poke your head out tentatively. 

You don’t breathe as you listen, but it’s so quiet, so much so that your exhale seems too loud, and there’s a soft ringing in your ears that set you on edge. Stepping outside the room, you contemplate your next course of action: You can bolt right for the door and get out, but risk making too much noise if Hoseok is indeed here. Or, you can slowly and quietly make your way over and slip out without cluing your kidnapper in on your escape.

Can it be called kidnapping if you were living on the streets?

The door seems miles away as you inch slowly towards the open kitchen and living room area. There are a few lights on, the same LED lighting strips run along the edge of the large pane windows and glows an ominous blue and the lights over the marble island had been dimmed. Both rooms seem empty and you couldn’t be more thankful.

Like a mouse, you skitter across along the hallway space that divides the two, down the little platform at the entrance and take one more step towards the door.

The door that seems further back than it was a second ago.

The stretch of space that was just an arm’s length away was now more than a hallway’s length. You stand still and stare at it, reaching an arm out in case you’re suddenly tripping balls but your hand swipes through air and falls limply at your side.

You look behind you and the rooms and hallway are just as they were, and turning back, the door was right where it was before. You could’ve sworn there was a handle on it. You place your palm against the cool, smooth surface where the handle should be and in the face of your freedom thwarted, you pinch your thigh.

You must be dreaming. The pain flares and grounds you and you realise there’s no explanation for this. You’re wide awake. Still drugged then. But you feel fine. There’s no swirling vision or heavy limbs, your mouth doesn’t feel like someone squeezed glue into it; you’re fine. This doesn’t make sense.

You back away from the door and almost stumble against the raised ledge behind your heels. Steadying yourself with a hand against the wall, you turn, and immediately, notice the darkness of the hallway.

Your breath catches in your throat and your heart slams so harshly against your sternum it hurt. There’s that feeling again, it sends a shiver racing down your spine and scattering goosebumps along your skin. You’re being watched. You are not the apex here.

You want to run, or curl up into a ball and hope the darkness hides you. Fear coils into your muscles and locks them tight, and you’re left standing still, eyes darting around trying to make sense of the shapes in the dark.

There’s a darkness that curls at the center of the space a few feet away from you, undulating and crashing in on itself in an uncoordinated dance of chaos. It’s somehow darker than the darkness – stands out against it like white on black paint. It doesn’t make sense to you, and it could simply be your mind turning against you and scaring you further.

It slowly floats towards you, wraps around you in a languid, bored way, like smoke, no longer as tangible as it seemed before. You don’t feel it’s caress, but it’s cold, like you’d submerged yourself into a tub full of ice and water. You feel as though you’ll pass out, like the black wisps of strange smoke is filling your lungs and carving its way through. There’s fear, which is yours, and something that isn’t.

Something dark and lonely, desperate and afraid. It’s sad, so sad that you feel like you’ll drown in it, that tears would well in your eyes and squeeze your throat tight. There’s anger. It feels as though you can burn the world and revel in it.

The smoke snaps back and away from you, crumples on itself violently and then the lights are on, blinding you.

Hoseok is standing in front of you. There’s a mix of conflicted emotions on his face like he can’t settle on one before the storm in his eyes calm.

There’s a tenseness to his brow, and he studies you quietly with a tilt of his head.

“You’re awake.”

He takes one step forward and you take two back in turn. His eyes dart down to your feet and quickly back to your face, and draws the foot he put forward back to himself.

“I won’t hurt you.”

You scoff before you could help it, fear pushed slightly to the side as your anger rushes forward. “Right. Like I’ll believe that after you fucking drugged me.”

“Like I said, it was nothing your body couldn’t handle.” Hoseok counters calmly, “If I wanted to hurt you, you’d be dead.”

“Then why am I here? What do you want?” His threat didn’t go unheard, it settles into your mind and buries itself underneath everything else you’re trying to absorb for you to freak out about later.

Hoseok smiles, and its bright in its visage, every bit of sweet and caring as you thought him to be. Dimples you haven’t noticed before sinks into his laugh lines, and you think briefly, it makes him even more dangerous. He looks so harmless, as his smile blossoms and blooms into the heart shape you remember from the night before.

“Just you.” He says, eyes glinting with something you’ve decided is more than a little crazy.

You take another step back and he remains in his spot. If you’re quick enough – just enough – you can make it to the door. You might be able to outrun him.

“You can leave if you like.” He says, like he could tell what you’re thinking – or read your mind – and his smile fades, like a raincloud swelling and covering the warm rays of the sun. “Can’t guarantee you’d get very far, so I advise against it.”

You’re not sure if he’s being honest. Though, he looks pretty damn serious. He stares at you quietly, intensely, like he’s daring you to make that mistake. You hazard a look at the door behind you and the handle is still gone.

“What are you?” you ask, turning to face him and he’s directly in front of you. The startled squeak that leaves you makes him chuckle. Bending at his waist, Hoseok stares right into your eyes and you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest and take off running.

Bunny in a fox’s burrow.

“Hm.” He hums, “Now you’re asking questions.” He straightens with a smile and steps aside, gesturing to the kitchen with a slight nod of his head. “I’ll tell you eventually. For now though, you should eat.”

You stay rooted to your spot and decide that if he wants you to move, he’s going to have to move you himself. He’s insane if he thinks you’d be eating anything he gives you.

“Come now, dove. Don’t be that way.” He sighs, stares at you for a moment later before nodding. He turns on his heel and walks into the kitchen without you.

There’re the soft clangs of him moving things around, doing whatever he’s doing in there.

“You’ve been unconscious for two days, and you’ve been sick. You shouldn’t be standing.�� You hear him say from the kitchen, and you think you could make another attempt at the door but the handle is still missing, so you have no choice but to go.

You eye him suspiciously when you enter, watching as he butters a piece of toast and puts it on a plate. He doesn’t look at you as you hover unsurely at the dining table, watching the lights catch on the dark marble island counter.

“I won’t give you anything to drink. Get it yourself if you’re worried I’d try something.” He says softly, and not unkind. There’s a shift in his tone and the way his body moves as he brings the plate over. You feel like the man who was standing in front of you a couple of minutes ago in the hallway had hidden himself away and the man you’d met on the street had crawled his way back to the surface.

He sets it down on the table and walks back around the island, opposite from where you’re standing, and out of the kitchen.

You’ve been here for two days – whatever he’d given you must have been strong as hell – trapped here with...him. You’re certain you can’t call him a man, he’s something more than that and you won’t know until he tells you. Most of the memory of the night you came here are blurry and frayed at the edges, making them impossible to cling to and analyse.

There was something strange in the moments before the drug kicked in and right before you passed out. Something strange about Hoseok, but you can’t seem to recall it. It’s like it happened years ago.

The inconsistencies of your memory leave you on edge, and you eye the two slices of perfectly buttered toast on the plate. He’s given you something light enough that your stomach won’t be upset. As the thought comes to mind you faintly remember being sick at some point, but that too is fuzzy and you aren’t sure if its real. At least now the change of clothes makes sense, though, it doesn’t make you feel any better. He could’ve done anything to you while you were drugged and unconscious.

You wonder what he could possibly want with you. Why you, of all people? You’re just a girl who had everything taken from her and thrown off the ladder, now at rock bottom fending for yourself. There’s nothing left of you that could be given.

You feel Hoseok’s presence before you see him, a sort of odd pressure in the back of your mind and your chest. He pokes his head into the room like he’s checking to see if you’d started eating or not and doesn’t look surprised to see you’d left the toast untouched and you’re still standing.

“The toast is fine, you know.” He says, and there’s an understanding in his eyes when he looks at you. He knows you don’t trust him, though, he doesn’t seem too bothered by it. He sighs when you don’t make a move and comes into the kitchen. He takes the same route as before, walking around the opposite side of the island – away from you – until he’s standing at the other side of table.

“Okay.” He says, picking up one of the toast slices, he bites into it and stares at you while he chews. “Make something yourself then.”

You blink, “Huh?”

“The bread is in the fridge if you want. There’re oats if you prefer that instead. Stick to light things. I’d rather not be cleaning up after you.” You don’t understand him. In the short time you’ve known him, he’s like a square that’s trying to fit into a circle. The circle is too round to accommodate his sharp edges, but he somehow manages to get just half of the square through, even if the circle is struggling to contain it.

Not to mention the weird things that’s happened within the half hour you’ve been awake, things he’s yet to explain to you. Matter of fact, strange things has been happening since you left Abigail. The police officer, the fog, and whatever the hell was out there in it with you. You’re not even sure if that was real either.

You feel like if you focus on it, you’ll go crazy. So your mind does the only thing it can do to protect itself – pushes it away into a corner to mull over later along with everything else.

“I’d rather not.” You no longer feel the need to show him gratitude. You feel stupid, for one, why did you think trusting a random stranger would be a good thing?

Hoseok shrugs, dropping the half-eaten toast back onto the plate. He walks around you, close enough that the hairs on the back of your neck stands on end, that the warning bells are going crazy in your head again.

It’s uncomfortable being this close. The reaction is visceral, unable to ignore and you wonder why you hadn’t felt it the night before. Why you’d manage to follow him all the way here and not noticed. Maybe you had, briefly and in little moments that were small enough for you to brush them off.

You watch him watch you as he circles you like a vulture, “What are you?”

“Would you believe me if I said I was human?” He asks from behind you, and it feels like a terrible idea to have your back to him. He sounds amused, like this is nothing but a little game to him – just something to pass time while he’s bored.

As he rounds your right, your eyes meet the darkness of his. “You’re not.” It would be strange if you still thought he was after everything that’s happened already.

Hoseok hums, a twinkle lighting his eyes, “Perceptive, aren’t we?” There’s something like pride in his voice but you’re not sure what it’s for, “What do you think I am?”

“You expect me to guess correctly?” The difference in your height does nothing to stop you from glaring at him. He tilts his head at you, dark locks of his hair swaying against his forehead gently.

“No.” Hoseok smiles, “But it’ll make things interesting. I like games; play along.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his tone and the darkness in his eyes. He takes a step away from you and it feels like you can finally take a breath. His movements are fluid as he pulls the dining chair out from below the table. He sits gracefully, propping his chin in his palm as he watches you expectantly.

“Do you want a hint?” He asks, smiling sweetly.

“Why don’t you just tell me?” Your voice was barely above a whisper. You’re tired of whatever game he’s playing at, sick of the fear that keeps you standing still as he stares you down.

He stares at you like you’re a complex puzzle he’s trying to piece together. “I used to be an angel. Fallen from grace.”

You’d laugh at the absurdity of his words, but he has that look again. He has that look that makes you believe him, and everything seems to click into place and make sense, even if you barely understand it at all.

“Okay.” You nod, and then take a seat. You focus on the gentle waves of his dark hair and not his eyes, “Why am I here? Why can’t I leave?”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t. You can if you want to. I said that I can’t guarantee you’d get far; You weren’t alone out in that fog.”

You’d almost forgotten about that. Recent happenings had been enough to push it to the back of your mind. You knew you weren’t losing your mind that night, something had definitely chased you and you’re positive it wasn’t a regular animal.

“But that’s another topic.” Hoseok mumbles, more to himself than you, and it looks as though his thoughts strayed elsewhere for a moment before he focused. “You should be thanking me.” He says, tilting his head to meet your gaze with a smile.

He couldn’t be seriously wanting you to thank him. For what? Saving you? For all you know it could’ve been one of his tricks. Why would you thank him? He says that you could leave if you like – him messing with you since you woke up says otherwise. He’s not actually giving you a choice. You’re not going anywhere unless he lets you.

When you remain silent, he leans forward, pink tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “There’s nothing for you out there, though.”

You know he’s right. But that doesn’t justify what he’s doing. You assume he doesn’t care, if you were him, you wouldn’t feel the need to abide by law either.

You’d never been much for fantasy stories, growing up you were well aware that they were just that – stories. Your parents weren’t very religious, but you’d say grace before meals, pray before you go to sleep and when you woke up. Your parents would sometimes quote the bible when you were being naughty and every now and again you’d find yourself in a church for Sunday mas.

Your father used to say that the bible is a book of stories and lessons, and even if you aren’t to abide strictly by it, you should at least heed it. There’s someone up above, watching always.

The angels in the bible were described differently than the man before you, you think. Can angels really do things so bad that it gets them casted out?

Did he do something bad that got him sent here like some wayward child sent off to boot camp?

Even if a part of you is ever doubtful, his existence proves the existence of a higher being and you have some choice words for them.

In the days that go by, you remain wary of Hoseok. You don’t trust him, but you appreciate him letting you hover about him anytime he makes you something to eat. He makes everything from scratch and you wonder most of the time if it’s a skill he just has or was it something he had to hone on his own.

He barely bothers you, goes about his business, which really, entails him sitting in the living room and ignoring you.

Some days is another story entirely. You came to realise quickly that Hoseok is fond of games, usually at your expense. A shadow following you here, whispers that come from no where and bounces off the walls.

There are moments when you catch glimpses of something out of the corner of your eye – a figure lurking in the darkness, just beyond your line of sight. When you turn to look, there’s nothing there, leaving you to wonder if it was ever really there at all. You’ve seen shit at the corner of your vision way too many times for it to be a coincidence. You try to brush them off as tricks of the mind, but deep down, you know it’s not that simple.

Hoseok is always there when it happens, some sort of mirth in his eyes like your suffering is amusing.

The feeling of being watched becomes a constant presence, a weight on your shoulders that you can’t shake no matter how hard you try. Every time you turn around, you half expect to find Hoseok lurking in the shadows, a smug smirk playing on his lips as he revels in your discomfort.

For the first week it’s been this way, and when the second week started, he’d leave at one point during the day. Bored of you most likely, not that you’re complaining; at least he was no longer trying to send you crazy.

He’d give you the same instruction he did the night be brought you, use anything you need with additions of ‘Don’t cause trouble’ and ‘Stay put’. You always roll your eyes at that, the door remains the same; missing it’s handle. You couldn’t leave even if you wanted to.

You would stand in the living room, which looks much like the rest of Hoseok’s penthouse apartment; sleek and dark. There’s a few accents of white and red, black leather couches and clear glass tables. A flat screen TV you’ve never seen used mounted on the wall, a fluffy white rug covering the space between it and the couch. You’ve seen no other electronics besides that, nothing that you can use to contact anyone.

He’d left you things to occupy your time – like you’re a child – books and puzzles and what have you. And you found that the TV works if you become bored of the other things.

Weirdly enough, there’s people outside and below, unlike the night you came when it looked like a ghost town. You can see the glint of the sun bouncing off of shiny cars driving in and out of the hotel’s compound. Little people walking around as they go about their days, oblivious to your plight.

Sometimes you would hear someone out in the hallway beyond the door, like someone coming to clean and you would bang on the door and be as loud as you possibly could. It’s like you’re a ghost. You asked him about that once, and he told you that he can mimic spaces, make it seems as though something is or isn’t there.

Sometimes Hoseok would come back from his little excursions and be as normal as he could be. He’d talk to you like he isn’t holding you captive, ask you about what you did for the day as though there’s a million and one things you could do while there. You’d answer as to not be on the wrong side of him, even though it’s clear that he doesn’t quite mind you not saying anything back. He’d ask you what you’d like for dinner, and he’d eat with you.

On days like those it feels... normal. You feel comfortable and the nature of the situation escapes you. Like this had been your life for as long as you could remember. And sometimes you think, that maybe, if things were different. If perhaps he hadn’t kidnapped you, ‘helping’ you or otherwise. Maybe if your life had gone a little differently and you’d met him under different circumstances...then maybe.

Sometimes on those days he’d sit quietly as you give him little pieces of you; telling him about your childhood and not so important things. He’d clear the coffee table to put a puzzle together and ask you to help him with it.

Some days he’d come back and he wouldn’t be in a good mood. He’d stand and brood at the large windows looking out, lost in thought. On those days he’d look gone, vacant, as though whatever going on in his head was paramount to the reality around him. His eyes are sad then, and he’d be so quiet you’d forget he’s there. He’d make dinner, and he would not eat.

On days like those, if you wake at night and venture out of your room, you’d find Hoseok as you did the night you first woke up. A swirling ball of shadows and smoke somewhere about, and the lights are always off. It scares the hell out of you every time. It reminds you of what he is, despite the nature of his existence, there’s something very dark about him. He scares you mostly, even when he’s being nice, it’s unnerving. You’d try to stay clear of him then.

Something in your mind had been made aware that he is beyond your understanding. He’s stronger and faster than you, can do things that makes your brain grind to a halt trying to process. Sometimes it feels like he’s in your head, watching your every move and surveying your every thought. It scares you.

On days like those, the last thing you want to do is sleep.

Sleep evades you and when you do finally catch it, your dreams are wrought with nightmares of shadows and screams and blood. Sometimes Hoseok is there and he’s less kind than he’s ever been, and you’re lost in darkness and can’t find your way out.

Sometimes it’s a man with red hair lurking at the corners of them, smiling and taunting you. You feel like you could never escape them, like your dreams lasts the entire night and leave you exhausted when you wake up.

The room you woke up in so long ago was yours; Hoseok stays clear of it and never enters without knocking. One day Hoseok had brought you clothes you’re certain costs more than your life, they’re mostly comfort clothes as you have nowhere to be at no point in time. From sweaters to tee-shirts, lounge pants to bicycle shorts and an assortment of underwear that made you scowl at him.

That day you asked him just how long he was going to keep you captive – he didn’t much like the use of that word, prefers ‘keeping you safe’. He told you about the mysterious animal that chased you in the fog, that he and a friend are looking into it and reminds you that you wouldn’t get very far should you leave. You reminded him that he’s not letting you go anywhere.

You stare up at the ceiling, counting the swirling pattern from one corner to the next. You’ve lost count of them every time and you’ve lost count on just how long you’ve been here. Hoseok remains the same, fluctuating between rivalling the sun and being the moon that sometimes eclipse it.

It’s the morning of yet another day, and you can hear Hoseok moving about already. Sometimes you wonder if he ever sleeps...does he need sleep? He eats...that much is for certain, so by any rate he functions partially human.

You sigh softly, getting out of bed and shuffling your feet to the house slippers Hoseok gave to you. There’s the smell of breakfast coming from the kitchen, the sound of Hoseok moving about, and it sounds like he’s in a good mood if his humming is anything to go by.

You wash up for the morning and get changed before carrying yourself out to the kitchen.

Hoseok looks devastatingly domestic and the smile he directs at you is enough to send your mind haywire. These past few days has been confusing for you. Though the initial fear you felt for him was there, lately, it’s been less. You’ve found yourself missing him when he goes off to do whatever he does during the day and you’re excited when he comes back. You’re chalking up the reason for that being that he’s the only person you’ve been in contact with for possibly a month or two.

On some of the days where he would come back and be less than happy, and the lights go out like they’re scheduled to and Hoseok is no longer tangible. When he hovers in a little ball of controlled chaos that blends into the darkness, you sit and wait. You wait until he’s there again and the lights are back on and he looks at you like you’re something he’s lost.

It confuses you as much as his smile that sends your heart thrumming against your ribcage in a dance that isn’t out of fear. You actually can’t remember when you’d stopped being afraid of him.

“I’m going out today.”

Your brows furrow, he’s never told you that he’s leaving before. He brings over a breakfast of pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon and sliced fruit. A sealed carton of orange juice and a glass for you.

“Okay...?”

Hoseok smiles, “Okay.”

::

When lunch came around, you’re sitting at the island watching Hoseok prepare the ingredients for whatever he’s going to make.

You don’t really feel the need to watch him as closely as you did when you first got here, now you simply do it because there isn’t anything better to do.

He moves in the kitchen like it’s a dance, turning to and fro with a grace you could only hope to have.

He’s already got something on the stove, some sort of sauce you think. It smells amazing and you’re looking forward to whatever it could be.

He looks a bit in his head, brows furrowed as he concentrated a little too hard to just be cutting an onion into crescent slices. He mutters something under his breath, turning to stir the contents in the pot before going back at the onion.

“Hoseok?” You call softly as he sets the onion aside in a bowl and pulls something else onto the cutting board. For a moment you’re not sure if he’s heard you, with just the steady sound of the knife hitting the board, he hums, glancing at you. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yes.” You can tell he’s in one of his moods, but he’s actively trying to be pleasant. He fills a pot with water and sets it on the stove and then turns the oven on to heat up. “What is it?”

His tone isn’t harsh, just a tad bit impatient.

“Is cooking just something that you can do? Or did you have to learn?”

He turns, pauses, stares at you for a moment and then chuckles, “It’s a skill I acquired through a lot of trial and error. I had a long time to perfect it, though.”

“How long are we talking?” You’re a little intrigued, besides him telling you that he’s a fallen angel, he hasn’t told you exactly how he became one or how long he’s been here.

He tilts his head and smiles gently in the way he does when he’s thinking if he should answer you honestly or not before shrugging, “Long enough.”

You sigh, “Fine. Don’t tell me. You’re probably older than dirt anyway.”

A surprised laugh leaves him, high pitched and a little untamed. The sound is infectious and now you’re laughing too.

Happiness looks good on him, you wish he wore it often.

When it was about four in the afternoon, you hear the closing of Hoseok’s door and the sound of his footsteps walking up the hall.

You’re curled up against the corner of the couch, tucked under a yellow blanket with a book in your hand. You smell him before you see him; the cologne he’s wearing reaching the room before he does.

He steps in and stands near the entrance, the end of his coat brushing against his shins while he secures a watch to his wrist. His hair’s grown longer since he brought you here, curling against his jaw and the bangs are long enough to almost hide his eyes if not for the middle part. The rings on his fingers catch the light of the sun, and he finally settles, a serious look on his face as he watches you for a moment.

He seems to be contemplating something, the muscle of his jaw tensing as he grinds his teeth. He lifts a hand and crooks a finger at you.

Unwrapping yourself from the blanket, you walk over to him. He doesn’t say anything, but levels you with a look and guides you into the hallway with a hand at your back. “I’m leaving the door alone.”

The door is practically singing your freedom, the silver handle looks like a lighthouse at a stormy sea at night. Hoseok is looking down his nose at you when you finally tear your eyes away. His eyes narrow as though he can hear your thoughts and steps away from you.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

And you didn’t. You messed around with the TV, got bored, read another book, and decide to take a nap. Doing it all to ignore the door. You wouldn’t get very far. You really don’t want to know what Hoseok meant by that.

There isn’t anywhere you can go, you have nothing to your name. You get three square meals, clean clothes and a bed to sleep in when night comes – you think about Abigail, you wonder if she’s alright – you’d actually be quite dumb to go out there. Hoseok hasn’t done much but mentally exhaust you, you aren’t chained up in a dank room and being made to do things against your will. It’s actually quite pleasant.

You shuffle to your room and crawl under the covers, suddenly too sleepy to keep your eyes open. You would usually take naps when there’s nothing else for you to do, but you’re never this sleepy. It’s like your body is demanding you close your eyes and pass out right now.

You open your eyes a couple of minutes later and realise you didn’t know you fell asleep. It’s dark out already.

You throw the covers back, scoot to the edge of the bed, and put your feet right into water. You look down at it confused – did you leave a tap on? Hoseok would probably throw you out a window for flooding his place. Or maybe he’ll start up his silly mind games again and drive you nuts.

You’re not too concerned about it, strangely enough, as you get up, the water soaks into the legs of your pants. It’s high enough to lap against the middle of your shins and you curse softly, how could you forget to turn the tap off?

You swish through the water, reaching the door and pulling it open. The water is gone and you’re standing in the living room. Hoseok sits on the couch, one leg lapped over the other, bobbing idly as he turns the page of a thick book balanced on his thigh.

“Hoseok.” You sigh, “Stop it. I’m not in the mood for your stupid games.”

He turns his head slowly to look at you, crooks a finger like he did at you earlier. You stomp over to him, not caring that you probably look rather childish doing so. When you stop in front of him, he gently puts the book aside and then wraps his fingers around your wrist.

Your pulse flutters and you pray that he can’t feel it. A soft squeak leaving you as he tugs you to him, you fumble to catch yourself, trying not to trip over your feet and the carpet. Your hand lands beside his head, sinking into the leather, his eyes meet yours through his hair, and when he pulls you down, you follow without question.

He settles you in his lap, one hand gripping your waist and the other snaking upward to bury itself into your hair. He leans forward, nosing along the underside of your jaw and when the warmth of his tongue streaks against your pulse, a shiver races down your spine before you catch yourself. You push against his shoulder, “Hoseok.”

His chuckle sounds dark to your ears, his grip on your waist tightens enough that you fear you’d bruise. His teeth drag against your earlobe and yours sink into your bottom lip. “Don’t act like this isn’t what you want.”

His words wrap around your head, burying themselves under your skin and makes home there. The hand in your hair slowly slides out of it, moving down until it’s wrapped around your throat. His thumb presses against your racing pulse, a smirk curling at the corner of his mouth. “You want me to break you.”

It’s a moment of bliss, warmth spreading through you before it instantly chills. It’s all fun and games until he’s actually trying to choke you out. Your breaths come in shallow gasps as Hoseok’s grip tightens around your throat, squeezing the air from your lungs. Panic surges through you, and for a moment, you’re certain you’ll pass out from lack of oxygen.

He’s going to kill you.

Desperate, you claw at his hands, trying to pry them away, but his strength overwhelms you. Your struggles intensify as you realize the danger you’re in.

He stands swiftly and lets you go, and you crash unceremoniously into the glass coffee table, nearly breaking your wrist trying to catch your weight. You cough and gasp, clutching at your throat that burns with every breath you take. Your eyes sting with tears as you scramble to put distance between you and him.

He watches you, amused, taking slow steps towards you. He laughs, the sound echoing off the walls and you realise – there’s nowhere to run.

You look up at him, and you’re now facing the windows. The LEDs that line the perimeter of them are glowing a sinister red and they’re the only source of light. There’s something slick under your palms, something you slide in as you try to get up. Inspecting it in the lighting does nothing, as it simply looks dark against your skin, but, there’s no mistaking the scent of copper.

Gazing around, you’re sitting in a pool of blood. Hoseok is nowhere to be found. The pool stretches off like something was dragged through it, going out the living room and down the hall.

You follow it, against your better judgement. This is the worst trick he’s ever played.

Your pants stick to your skin uncomfortably, and you wipe your hands hurriedly against the front of them. It doesn’t do much but spread the mess of blood around. The trail leads into your bedroom, and you stand outside the slightly ajar door with your heart pounding against your ribs.

Raising a hand, you push the door open, but plan to go no further than the threshold. The lights are on, dimly, it doesn’t give you much vision, but you could see Hoseok standing over someone.

It’s you, well...it was you. You’re not sure if you could call that you anymore. Limbs twisted in unnatural angles, sharp ends of bone sticking out from your bruised skin.

You stumble backwards, slipping in the still wet trail of blood and falling against the door behind you. Tears blur your vision, you feel sick.

“You see?” a voice whispers, echoing and bouncing around in your head. “This is what will happen.”

There’s someone else here.

“He’ll kill you.” The voice snickers, crawling along your skin like poison ivy. “Run. Get out.”

You startle awake, gasping for air, searching your body for any sign of blood. The sun is almost setting, preparing to make its descent in the west and you dart out of bed. Your skin feels tight, like you’re too big for it and it makes you uncomfortable. Your breaths are harsh barely making it into your lungs before you’re forcing it out again.

You make for the door, yanking it open and running down the hall. You didn’t stop to think, you just want out. You push the entrance door and it opens and you stumble out into the hallway you haven’t seen in ages.

You run up to the elevator, the overhead floor indicator is blank. And the elevator doesn’t budge when you push the button frantically. Hands caught in your hair you spin around, there must be a way.

The green exit sign glows like a beacon of hope. You trip over your feet getting to it, almost face planting on the expensive rug that lines the hallway. The door opens with a click and your footsteps echo in the stairwell as you take them two at a time to get as far away from this place as possible.

You don’t stop until you’re three flights down, breath ragged and vision spotty. You lean against the wall to catch your breath, panting and wiping the sweat off your brow.

There’s a loud bang that echoes from somewhere below and you freeze. Taking careful steps you peek between the railings and see nothing.

It might be Hoseok.

Or, it could be someone else in the building and your only hope of getting out of here.

“Hello? Is someone ther—” There’s another loud bang, and you take a couple steps down the fourth flight and look over the railing again. A thick fog swirls just a floor below.

The hair on the back of your neck shoots up at the low growl that dances up the stairwell. You nearly go tumbling down it in your haste to turn around and go back up.

As you turn to go back up the third flight, the fog surrounds you and you stop as it becomes impossible to see. You grip tightly to the stair railing, tentatively stepping up – You’re trying not to breathe too loudly.

There’s something scraping against the ground on the stairs below and your heart kicks. You step faster, at the same time trying not to trip and break your neck. There’s a low snarl and you bolt, taking the stair two at a time back up the way you came.

The floor vibrates beneath you as whatever it is gives chase. You make it up to the first landing, pulling the exit door open with a grunt. You’re just about to step through when what feels like three hot butcher knives slices through your back. The force of it sends you pitching forward, smacking hard into the wall on the opposite side before you crumple against it.

You could barely feel it, you’re aware you’re hurt...you could feel the pulsing, open wounds at your back. Your mind is trying to process as you struggle to move, taking a breath aches as you push yourself upward and away from the wall just enough to turn. You don’t manage much more than that, sliding down the wall until your butt hits the pretty red carpet.

The metal door of the emergency exit swings open harshly, banging loudly against the wall before it leans forward; one of the hinges broken. The thing that stands in the doorway looks like it crawled out of some deep, dark part of hell. It’s standing on it’s hind legs before it drops forward, claws that look at least nine inches long scraping against the linoleum.

It looks like a giant dog, honestly. It’s hard to tell when all you could focus on was that you could feel your heartbeat at your back, and the slick warmth soaking into your ruined sweater and pants. Shock maybe...or adrenaline, was keeping most of the pain at bay, you’re pretty sure you’d be dead otherwise right now.

With a guttural growl, the creature emerges, its form contorted and twisted, as if it were forged from the very essence of nightmares.

Its body is a grotesque fusion of twisted flesh and sinew, its skin a sickly shade of mottled grey, stretched taut over bulging muscles that ripple with every movement. Sharp spikes protrude from its spine, glinting menacingly in the dim light, while its black eyes burn with a fiery intensity that seems to pierce through your very soul.

The creature's mouth curls into a snarl, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth stained with blood. Its breath is a noxious cloud of decay and sulphur, filling the air with a suffocating stench that makes your stomach churn.

As it lurches forward on all fours, its movements are unnaturally fluid, each step sending tremors through the ground beneath you. It’s trying to squeeze its way through the small space of the doorway, too big to pass through, and you could do nothing but watch.

Your vision goes hazy as you simply stare at the creature.

The adrenaline is fading and you’re starting to feel your wounds, but maybe if you could crawl towards the door...

At six pm on a Friday evening, Hoseok isn’t at all surprised to see the line of people waiting to get into the club. It’s still a long way to opening, but with the prestige of this place, again, he isn’t surprised.

He was with Yoongi when he bought the place, watched him build it from the ground up. Watched his taste for the interior bounce around erratically until he settled, as the clientele flickered from the common club goer to people – if they had enough money – buying their way in.

Haegeum is on the high-end of the city, the type of place where you’d wonder if folks had enough money to burn just because. Yoongi doesn’t discriminate and all are welcomed.

The queue is a mix of people: folks dressed to the nines just to step a foot in the place, those of which would most likely be sitting pretty in the VIP section. People just looking for a place to escape to for a while, teenagers holding tight to their fake Ids and clinging to their friends. They mingle in groups or alone, their chatter filling the air with a soft buzz of voices and hushed giggles.

Hoseok takes everything in with an air of nonchalance as he strolls by.

The bouncer at the heavy black door stands stoically, clipboard in hand for VIP clients. Hoseok breezes past him when he opens the door to let him in, stepping into the entrance foyer, illuminated by dim red lights. He walks down the hall, and down the dark metal staircase into the main floor of the club.

The above head white florescent lights do nothing to take away from the grandeur of the club, though, Hoseok likes it better when it’s late and the lights are off. The main floor is usually accented in lights of blue and red, casting shadows streaking along the sitting area. Embedded into the walls are velvet couches that flow with the design in a sort of snake like shape, a short-legged coffee table and single seated chairs dotted between every inward curve. There’s a wide enough walkway for two people walking side by side to pass, a partition of glass, and on the other side of it, black leather couches and even more glass coffee tables.

 The walls are interesting, and Hoseok thinks this because he doesn’t know why Yoongi likes it so much. In large arched alcoves sits head statues of Greek gods of mortal tales, staring lifelessly into the distance, bathed in dark blue light. Between every two are columns that resembles those of a temple, and smooth grey stone. Hoseok honestly doesn’t know which vibe Yoongi is going for, not that he’d say it to his face.

He walks down the little walkway, down another set of stairs and across the dance floor. The bar is tucked in a corner, glasses being wiped by one of Yoongi’s employees behind it. Hoseok offers the man a nod of his head, moving towards the staircase that curves with the wall and upwards.

Yoongi’s office veers just off the VIP lounge, set behind large mahogany doors. And Hoseok doesn’t bother knocking. The room looks pretty much the same as it’s always had: dark walls with darker patterns, a maroon carpet lining the floor, abstract paintings hanging on the walls that allude to a darker nature, and in the far corner on the wall between two paintings is a golden blade dagger behind a mounted glass case.

“...Pick your side, kid. It’s either you’re with me, or against me.” Yoongi’s voice is cold, not angry per se, but reeking in annoyance that chills rather than burns. “And trust me when I say that you don’t want me as your enemy. I don’t play nice.”

There’s a young man standing in front of Yoongi’s large desk, his hands behind his back where one hand squeezes the other in bouts of nervous jitter. There are bruises on his knuckles, and even from behind, Hoseok could tell that he’s trying to fit into a crowd that doesn’t suit him. Haegeum isn’t just a club but a base of operations so to speak, in the middle of this high-end city, its easy for Yoongi to wrack up a certain clientele. People who seek a different ease of mind and has a different lifestyle.

Hoseok leans against the door, watching the scene play out, as the young man bows slightly and Yoongi waves his hand at him.

“Keep shadowing Seonghwa and Hongjoong for the week, and I don’t want any trouble this time.” He says dismissively, and the boy turns to leave. As Hoseok catches his eye, something akin to a bolt of lightening shoots down his spine. It isn’t noticeable to the more ordinary folk, but Hoseok isn’t ordinary, and neither are Yoongi and the rest of his boys. 

The air crackles with static, raw, untrained power that itches Hoseok the wrong way. The boy stands there clearly a moment too long, and Yoongi’s knuckles raps against the table top. “Yeonjun.”

Yeonjun gives a soft apology, and quickly walks towards the door. Hoseok opens it for him, not out of kindness, but purely to give him a long unbroken stare. He smiles as the boy struggles to hold his gaze, even as the hair on the back of his neck stands on end at his proximity.

When he shuts the door behind him, Yoongi is already watching him with a raised brow. Hoseok wanders over to the leather armchair at the front of Yoongi’s desk and sits, shifting around until he’s comfortable in it. “I thought they were a myth.”

“Obviously they’re not.” Yoongi mutters, shaking his head as he sieves through a stack of papers scattered on his desk before he finds what he’s looking for. “Kid wanted in, so I let him. More trouble than it’s worth, honestly. But, the Nephilim are stronger than the order, so I gave it a shot.”

Hoseok hums, and Yoongi seems to catch himself, narrowing his eyes at him. The scar that runs through his right eye looks pink and irritated in the motion and the overhead lights. “What are you doing here?”

“What? I can’t visit?”

If Yoongi narrows his eyes any more, he’d close them, “I think you know better than anyone that you’re never here.” He says, “You’re absent more often than not, so I have the right to ask. Did you do something? I’m not cleaning up any more of your messes.”

Yoongi pushes back his chair, walking across the room to the mini bar he has tucked in the corner. He pulls a glass from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of whisky from a long necked crystalline bottle. He takes a sip and turns leaning against the bar’s edge. “Last time was enough trouble.”

“You’d clean it up anyways.” Hoseok says, leaning his head back against the chair, tilting his head to look at Yoongi. “I found something fun to do.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, quiet, contemplative, “Causing a different type of trouble, I see.” He chuckles, “Don’t break her.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Hoseok smirks, and then frowns a little. With all Yoongi’s prowess and danger, he’s gone a little soft around the edges, and he could see that softness in his eyes as he looks off into the distance. Surely thinking about the mortal girl that has him wrapped around her little fingers like bubble gum.

“You’ll learn.” Yoongi says cryptically, and it reminds Hoseok that he’s never really sure what Yoongi is thinking. Sometimes he’s an open book and Hoseok could read him like one, easy to figure out in the way that he moves, and sometimes he’s sealed tight.

Yoongi drains his glass of whisky, setting it down with a clink on the bar top before walking back over to his desk. “Since you’re here...” He opens a drawer and pulls out a thick black file, “Give this to Seonghwa.”

Hoseok takes the file and opens it, reading over the contents. There’s a man on Yoongi’s black list that’s due a checking in. “You let him and Joong have all the fun.”

“You’re too messy.” Yoongi retorts, “I said I’m not cleaning up after you.”

Hoseok shrugs, and gets up, skirting around the back of the chair and walking towards the door.

“Hobi.” Yoongi calls, “I don’t have to remind you that there’s a meeting at the end of the month, right?”

“I’ll be here.” Hoseok says, as the look in Yoongi’s eyes gave no room to say anything else.

He leaves the office, closing the door behind him with a quiet click and lets the tension roll off his shoulders. He goes back the way he came, black file in hand, towards the VIP section where he knows Seonghwa would be lurking. He walks down the little walkway, through the identical couches and tables on raised platforms that overlook the main floor of the club.

At the end, there’s a small section of booths, black velvet and low lit, and standing with his back to him is Hongjoong. He seems to be busy, twin pistols in pieces on the booth’s table, cleaning supplies set up neatly in a little row. Hoseok saunters over, and throws his arm over the man’s shoulders.

Hongjoong doesn’t spare him a glance but sighs softly through his nose. “I’m busy, Hoseok.”

“Where’s your shadow?” Hoseok asks, and waves the file at him, “Yoongi has work for you two.”

“When doesn’t Yoongi have work for us.” Hongjoong slides away from under Hoseok’s arm, sitting down in the booth to avoid him all together. There’s a dull glint of light as the fixtures catch on the gold diamond studded crucifix that swings against the white of Hongjoong’s tee-shirt.

Hoseok clicks his tongue against his teeth, “Don’t let him hear you say that.”

The dark bangs of his hair, which are usually styled away from his forehead, falls into his eyes when he glances upward at Hoseok. He picks up the cleaning solvent and pours a bit of it into the cap before dropping a cotton patch in to let it soak, then, he wraps the patch around the bristles of a small bore brush.

“Seonghwa isn’t here, he’s out back.” Hongjoong picks up the dismantled gun barrel, sliding the bore brush through until the now dirty cotton patch pokes out from the other end. The scent of the solvent burns Hoseok’s nose, and he leaves Hongjoong be, going back down to the main floor and through the emergency exit. The exit sits in the middle of an alleyway that connects two streets, and Hoseok catches sight of Seonghwa’s faux fur coat on one end.

Smoke curls away from his form with a light wind and brings the scent of a cigarette as Hoseok walks with quiet steps towards him. He’s laughing at something, phone in hand, and Hoseok drops his hand heavily on his shoulder and feels the way he immediately tenses.

“I’ve told you one too many times, Seonghwa.” Hoseok says, stepping to the side and around him, “Always be on your guard.”

There’s a glint in the way that he sneers, pulling away from Hoseok’s grip. He takes a couple steps back, watching Hoseok as though he spat at his feet.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that. Makes me all tingly.” Hoseok teases mockingly with a smile, and then offers the file to him. “Here.”

Seonghwa shoves his phone into the pocket of his coat, taking the file and looking through it. He takes one last drag of the cigarette between his fingers before tossing it. He raises a perfect brow at Hoseok and tilts his head, something like amusement in his eyes. “You don’t show up for weeks, and now you’re just Yoongi’s errand boy.”

Hoseok chuckles and it’s dark, low in his throat. “Seonghwa.” He takes a step closer, “Don’t forget your place.”

It’s irritating how Seonghwa doesn’t back down, the way he looks at Hoseok as though he’s beneath him. He stands tall and proud with his chest puffed out like a peacock, and Hoseok knows he’s about to say something stupid without using that brain of his first.

“Don’t act like we’re not in the same boat.” Seonghwa scoffs, and even before he opens his mouth, Hoseok could see the thought in his eyes, glowing like an ember in the dark. He sees the minute curl at the corner of his mouth and the glow of the street light that catches on the pretty studded silver of his teeth. “You got your ward killed, and killed the man that killed her. There’s no hierarchy among murderers.”

Hoseok takes a breath, and he feels the heat rising from the tips of his toes. Somewhere in the back of his mind, the images he’s locked away floods out of the steel box he’s put them in. The little girl he’d been guardian to, her short, miserable and painful life. Found end at the hands of someone she had the misfortune of being born to. It was too late – he was too late, when he’d found her. And just like then, Hoseok sees red.

Warm, gushing red that spill into the creases of his fingers when he swings his fist at Seonghwa’s face. The black file and the papers within scatter on the wind.

Hoseok doesn’t let the surprise and force send the younger man stumbling back too far, and grabs hold of the front of his coat, curling his fingers into the material tightly. He kicks at his knee, and when he’s forced to kneel, Hoseok leans down to his height.

“You talk a lot of shit for someone who lost his wings for something so trivial; your sin and mine are two different things.” Hoseok sneers, and he’s so mad he could set Seonghwa on fire and watch him dance. “But I can remind you exactly why Yoongi doesn’t bother to have me involved.”

Someone pulls Seonghwa back, dragging him up to his feet. “The fuck are you two doing?”

There’s a tick in Seonghwa’s jaw that doesn’t go unnoticed and his eyes stay locked with Hoseok as he straightens. He should think twice, Hoseok knows he knows better.

Hongjoong shoves at Seonghwa’s shoulder, “Go pick that shit up.”

Yeonjun stands at the open doorway of the emergency exit, watching with wide eyes, looking like he’s halfway to backing out on his choice to get into Yoongi’s ranks. Hongjoong eyes Hoseok warily, glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Seonghwa was doing as told.

Hoseok’s gaze burns a hole into the back of Seonghwa’s head as he moves around to pick up the scattered papers while Hongjoong stands like a watchdog.

Hoseok shoves his hands into the pockets of his black coat, tilting his head back to stare at the sky. “You boys be good, now.” He says in parting, turning on his heel and walking out of the alley.

“What the fuck did you say to him?...”

Hoseok walks up the street, through the throngs of people still waiting to get into Haegeum. His phone vibrates in his coat pocket, with a sigh he pulls it out and answers.

“Yes, Cheol?”

“Hey, remember when you asked me to tell you when I’ve seen that weird fog?” Seungcheol sounds distracted, there’s a sharp sound from his end that has Hoseok pulling the phone away from his ear with a wince. He says something to someone else, voice too far away for Hoseok to catch, before he speaks again. “Couple of nights ago, it was in my area. Whatever’s in it is pretty good at hiding. It’s not the only thing in it either.”

Hoseok crosses the street, going in the opposite direction of which he came from. The people that line the sidewalk give him a wide berth as he weaves through them; unconsciously reacting to him being near.

“Didn’t see much of the guy, some twinky-looking redhead.” Cheol sighs, “I think the fog is like a domain. If you get lost in it, it’s like there’s no-one in there but you. Like a mirror realm.”

‘They who fight monsters should be careful, lest they become a monster themselves.  And if you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.’

What defines a monster? Something that goes beyond human comprehension, something that stands outside the bounds of what is morally accepted. Something that a person fails to understand and is therefore scared by. Something that make stories entertaining because they’re meant to be defeated in the end. They’re meant to be slain and mounted like trophies, pinned up for grotesque display of heroism.

What defines a creature that goes beyond human comprehension? White coloured morals and the freedom to help in the way it needed. He stopped being what he was created to be, and instead became something that someone needed the most. He did everything right. He had his head in the right place, he was determined to see it through to the end.

He was a little too late.

Over the years, Hoseok could no longer recall just how late he was. If it was by seconds or minutes, or an hour by a half. When he was finally strong enough to move, he traced the memory of a place he’d seen for years, all the way to a house where his charge waited inside.

She was always afraid. Alone, trapped with a monster of man’s making. A child he’s watched since the moment of her birth, watched her grow to be afraid and the light never reach her. By the laws of his nature he was forced to do nothing.

He was restricted to assisting in the only way he could. He couldn’t shield her physically, so he instead manipulated the monster in her closet. He made sure that his mind was changed, that he didn’t swing his claws as fiercely, that he slept deeply so that the child can have a night of rest.

He started to question, as he watched the monster that called himself a father, prey upon what he was meant to protect.

What’s the point? Is he not allowed to stop this? Why can’t he stop this? He could stop it because he has the power to do so.

The ideology was shared by another, and together, hubris.

Hoseok fell with pride; he fell with the intention to seek his ward out and help her. Even if he had no idea what was to come afterwards. Stripped of his grace and the feathers of his wings burned away, it didn’t matter to him.

He went as quickly as his wounds allowed, which in retrospect, wasn’t quickly enough. She was only six. An awfully short time to the likes of him, even shorter to mortals, not enough time to live and laugh – she wasn’t allowed to even do that. He’d stood there, in the broken doorway of a broken home and watched as the monster of his ward’s nightmare became a man before him. Hoseok’s vision had tunnelled and in the centre was the broken body of the child he’d sworn to protect.

When the shadows on the walls grew tall and Hoseok’s mind closed in on itself and allowed those shadows to encase him, the man cried. He pleaded on his knees at the sight of his reckoning, begged for mercy when he gave none.

Then, Hoseok shattered. Scattered like tiny specs of dust floating on the wind, and under the heat and pressure of his own realisations, he turned into glass. With his sharp edges he cut into the man and reveled in it. The sounds of his pleas like the gentle strum of a harp’s string, and the warmth of his blood was a bath Hoseok sunk into.

What he was, was something that was no longer needed, and with his hands covered in blood and gore and mess he held tight to his reasons for being and cried for her. He became something else that only protected himself. While he locked everything away and allowed the shadows to stay. The light he’s trapped struggles to glow, to breathe, and some days Hoseok wants to snuff it out for good, to become the shadows he plays in.

He wouldn’t allow himself to reach that point, though. He still has a sense of himself, however skewed.

He owes Yoongi a lot, his partner in crime that he would follow to the ends of the earth. He never turned his back on him even as Hoseok changed to suit his troubles.

Hoseok remembers Yoongi standing at the doorway, catching up much later than he had. He stayed there quietly while Hoseok mourned the death of his ward and his tears made tracks in the blood that coated him.

Hoseok buried her away from her cursed home, far away and as deep as the roots of an old oak runs and salt floats on the air. Wild flowers bloom there, giving her the beauty in death she wasn’t allowed in life.

His chest aches as he stands there now. Under the shade of the oak tree where little speckles of the setting orange sun spills through leaves and dances along the space that he occupies. There’s a crinkle of plastic and Hoseok stares at the small bouquet in his grip. He chose every flower that reminded him of her: daises and lavender, lilies and snapdragons.

He lays it gently on the patch of grass that’s long grown over between two large protruding roots, mutters the same apology he does every time he comes by, and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his coat as he straightens.

He’s sorry he wasn’t there in time.

He wished she was given a chance, and wondered if her death was his punishment. He wonders what it would’ve been like to watch her grow, safe and happy. What her favourite flower would’ve been, if she would’ve valued the little things. He would’ve given her everything – pulled the moon from the sky if she so desired it. He would’ve taken the stars and put them in her little hands for her to watch them shine.

He wonders if it would’ve been better had he waited a little longer. That maybe the slightest change would’ve brought about a different outcome.

Hoseok sighs, turns his head to watch the sun set, dragged behind the ocean’s edge far off in the distance. Something at the back of his mind wiggles and tugs. He knows something’s wrong and he’s in no mood to deal with it.

You’re dying...you think. Your hand slides against the floor and it takes a moment to realise it’s your blood you’re slipping in. You can barely feel the rest of your body, adrenaline pumping your blood out of the wounds at your back. The doors of the elevator doubles and swarms in your vision.

You see them open but it’s so hard to focus. Hoseok steps out and walks slowly to you, you can’t see his expression, but you faintly hear the long, drawn-out sigh he releases. Your eyes focus on the darkness that surrounds him, the way it curls like smoke. The shadows at his back are clearer to you than they’ve ever been – wings. Dark plumage that glitters with something silver in the light, the feathers are long, long enough that they drag behind his steps. If he were to unfold them they would easily span to the ends of the hallway.

He hardly gives you a glance, stopping in front of you. You can’t see the creature now – blocked by Hoseok’s wings – but you hear it growl, and the scraping of it’s claws against the floor. Something glints in his hand against the flickering lights, a short sword that looks like it was dipped in gold from the hilt and it ran down the edges of the blade.

He’s a blur as he moves and your tired eyes can barely keep up with him, if it weren’t for the small space and shadows his wings casted you would’ve lost sight of him completely. 

The creature snarls and lashes out with its razor-sharp claws, but Hoseok is already one step ahead, dodging with effortless grace. He moves with a speed and agility that seems impossible in the space he occupies, closing in on the creature that growls and snarls at him. It’s forced to dislodge itself from the doorway, pulling back into the stairwell that gives it even less room to defend.

Hoseok’s wings fold tightly to his back as he follows, and you could only hear the sound of his weapon sliding through the air, the sound of the blade whistling and the increasingly irritated sounds from the creature. Hoseok ducks under a swiped claw, makes a spin on his knee, and switches the hands that holds his blade. It slices through the creature’s gigantic paw like it’s made of something soft, and through the other as it comes back down. The severed limb drops heavily on the ground before it dissolves into ashes and float upward.

The sound it makes grate on your ears, loud and sharp and you can’t bring your hands up to cover them, something warm trickles out of each.

Without it’s two front legs to support it’s weight, the creature drops forward, and Hoseok grabs hold of the first spike at the top of its head. With a flick of his wrist his weapon spins in his palm and he points the blade right between the creature’s eyes and pushes.

Golden light flashes, nearly blinding you on top of everything else, you can just barely hear the cry it makes this time as it writhes in agony. It’s monstrous form twists and contorts before finally collapsing to the ground in a heap.

Hoseok stands over the fallen beast, his weapon clenched tightly in his hand, watching intently as it’s body dissipates like ash from a fire.

With a satisfied nod, Hoseok sheaths his weapon and it vanishes, and then turns his attention back to you, his expression a mixture of something. You can’t tell, everything seems so dark and it’s hard to breathe. He approaches you slowly, his movements cautious as he assesses the extent of your injuries.

Hoseok crouches and you slowly look up at him, he tilts his head and clicks his tongue against his teeth.

“I told you not to go anywhere, little dove.” He says softly, calmly, as though he’s telling you about his day and you’re not bleeding out in his hallway. “You’re so troublesome.”

You try to respond, but the words stick in your throat, drowned out by the rush of blood and the overwhelming sense of impending darkness. Hoseok’s presence feels both comforting and ominous, his wings casting elongated shadows that dance across the walls. You try to focus on his face, to find some semblance of reassurance in his eyes, but all you see is a blur of shadows and flickering light.

“I’m sorry,” you manage to choke out, your voice barely audible above the sound of your own laboured breathing.

Hoseok’s expression softens slightly, a hint of concern flickering in his eyes. He reaches out a hand to gently brush the hair from your forehead, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the underlying tension in the air.

“Jesus...” Another voice says, the sound of footsteps hurrying close and the last thing you see is the shift of the hallway.

The night he found you out in the fog wasn’t the first time Hoseok had seen you.

By now, it would’ve been at least three months ago. You were alone, pacing around like a worried mother on a bridge over your perceived peace – had you decided to take it.

Human lives were no longer any concern to him; no consequence. He and his kind were here before and would be long after your kind has crumbled to dust and returned to the earth. He stopped then, and watched you contemplate the height of the bridge and the chill of the water below it; whether or not you’ll receive the mercy you seek. You’d cried for a long time on that bridge.

Hoseok is many things, but cruel is not one of them. He changed your mind and sent you away into the arms of someone that would care.

Hoseok has many contradictions. The darkness that he allowed entry fights the light, beating it into a corner where it cowers on most days. On those days he’s distant and struggling to contain it, he could taste malice on his tongue and the bitterness of it. The steel walls he painstakingly built with bloody and broken fingers are nothing more than barbwire fences; they do nothing to protect the glass figurines that make him whole.

Sometimes the glass are shards, sharp and unforgiving and willing to cut anything that gets too close. Sometimes they’re splintered panes and Hoseok is cutting his fingers to keep them in place. He curls in on himself, draws himself away, pushes everything outside his barbwire fence and tries to reinforce the walls. The darkness that swirls outside it seeps in and he can’t keep it out so he lets it fester and churn and he becomes intangible.

You weren’t there, and then, at some point, you were.

Sometimes...

Sometimes he’s standing in a grass field full of wild daises and the sun is warm and there’s salt in the air. The light peeks through the leaves of an old oak tree, and there’s a little girl who’s placed her life in his hands, who skitters about in the  grass like something wild and free. She glows in her happiness, and nature stains her hands and the bottom of her white dress. She makes faces at him behind the trunk of the tree, smiles and hold his hands and tell him that it’s okay. It wasn’t his fault and he’s forgiven, he could let it go and be.

On those days, Hoseok feels like a still pool of water. The ones with lily pads and life, and everything’s alright. You’re always there then.

Hoseok knows of the fragility of humans. How easily they could shatter and break and suddenly be no more. He was something once, and then he became something else, and sometimes it’s hard to not be what he is. His darker nature prevails, and he doesn’t do much to stop it. Sure, sometimes he’s done things simply because he’s feeling particularly malicious and thinks that everyone should suffer – it’s almost always harmless.

He has a sense of himself, he knows when to stop, when things are taken too far and you can’t take much more of it. You eventually learnt to take it in stride and Hoseok was proud of that, though, a part of him thought it wasn’t nearly as fun anymore.

He would walk your dreams some nights when he was bored and had nothing better to entertain himself, his presence would sometimes bring his darkness and your dreams would not be as pleasant. He tried to walk through them less often.

When you were jumping at every little sound, the silence that Hoseok moves with and the way you’re less of yourself some days – he realised something. Not every nightmare was his doing, and the whispers in the walls of your dreams spoke of something else entirely.

The far, fuzzy edges of your vivid dreams where he’s reminded of things he’s tried very hard to lock away, lurks something red and more sinister than he.

He’s every reason to believe that hellspawn didn’t find it’s way here on accident, and for it to go undetected until the very last moment. It bothers him like nothing else has.

Though you lay peaceful now and Seungcheol had left after doing what he does best, the unease lingers in bouts under Hoseok’s skin, skittering about like electricity on a wire. His feelings where you’re concerned contradicts each other. Like oil on water he’s stuck in between wanting you close and keeping you at arm’s length. He likes when you’re near, but he likes when you’re far. A consequence of his nature, he toes the line of something sinister and could get dangerous and down right evil if he doesn’t reign himself in.

At a point he wasn’t quite sure what to do with you. He was just as confused on why he stopped you from ending your own life that night on the bridge and why he took you in that night in the fog. At first, he was just as wary of you as you were of him, despite the way he acted. He can’t help what he is.

On the days where he feels like splintered glass and he’s choking on his despair, you’d waited. You were there until the smoke cleared and your quiet presence helped put the glass back up and straighten out the posts in his fence.

He told Yoongi, there’s no fun in not breaking you. Yoongi said that he’d learn.

He can’t help what he is.

He could try, though.

He doesn’t want to break you, it’s a matter of cause and effect. You’re here with him, evidently, you’d be broken regardless. The most he could do is try. He could try to not be the straw, and try to not let outside forces become it.

He cares. He cares so much that sometimes he could taste it on his tongue. He cares that you smile when he’s earned it, that you eat well, that you greet him like a friend and then somewhere along get shy when you do. He cares if you live or die.

Hoseok squeezes his eyes shut, opening them to blink away the image of you, helplessly laying in a pool of your own blood.

Fear. He’s has only felt it once, the fear that you would die and he would’ve failed again to protect someone.

He sips slowly at his glass of whisky, drinking in the sight of you. He thought you were smart enough to listen to him at least, trusted that you would stay out until he got back. Perhaps it was his mistake, but he wonders, and he ponders as you give a minute twitch in your sleep. Your eyebrows draw together and you murmur something unintelligible.

Hoseok sets his tumbler on your bedside drawer and pulls his chair closer. This is something he could easily do from another room, though, for what he’s about to do he would need to be touching you in some capacity.

Your dream had started off vividly, as most of your dreams have since you came here. Hoseok stands just in the corner of it, watching you wake within your dream and put your feet down into water.

He walks along the edge of it, watching it play out like a simulation, following behind you as you make your way down the hall towards the living room. He’s there and Hoseok isn’t surprised – it’s not the first time you’ve dreamt him.

He watches as your dreamscape version of him pull you into his lap and he feels a little offended and rolls his eyes – he didn’t even try to make it look sexy. Is this what you think of him? He isn’t half as tactless. Seduction takes finesse, and you clearly have no idea what that is.

Hoseok turns, gazing at the darkened edges of your dream.

There’s a shift and he feels it. It’s heavy like a wet blanket and seeps in like mist, and your dream changes accordingly.

He knows this feeling too well – the intrusion of an external force manipulating the dream, it’s faint enough that he knows it wasn’t in his apartment or anywhere nearby, but strong enough to reach so far.

Hoseok hovers hesitantly between the doorway of the living room and the hallway, and closes his eyes against the image of him hurting you.

He follows you as you follow blood, and he wishes you weren’t so frightened. He stays close to you, stepping where you’ve stepped as though he could protect you from something that’s already occurred. You push the door to your bedroom open and he wants to stop you, turn you around and shake you awake, but he can only watch.

You’re there and he is too, whispers skittering along the walls like mice, and Hoseok yanks himself out of your subconscious mind.

He feels like glass.

When you wake it’s dark and your back is sore like you fell from a high place and splatted against a body of water. The moment feels like déjà vu regardless as you swing your legs over the side of the bed with a wince.

The broken projector of your sleep-addled mind flickers in black and white cut scene imagines of the evening. Hoseok, the fog, the dog that crawled out of hell specifically for you – as you can only assume – things considered, you’re pretty certain you died at some point.

The dark unnerves you, it makes you feel like a kid as you pull your feet back up onto the bed, and pull the blanket up over your head and pulled tight between your fingers at your chest.

You scoot back, wiggling a bit until your back is pressed flush against the headboard. There’s no light seeping in from under your door, and you sink lower, curling into yourself and hold the blanket tighter.

There’s a prickling at the back of your neck that sends a shiver racing down your spine. Your head turns slowly to the left and notice the unnatural darkness of the space between the edge of the wall and the window pane. Relief blooms in your chest at the sight of it.

“...Hoseok.” You call softly, waving a hand into the dark. You wait for a moment, but the lights don’t come on and he doesn’t appear as he usually would.

Carefully, you unwrap the covers from around you and place your foot on the ground. Taking a moment, you count your fingers – it’s always hard to count them in your dreams. All ten are there, and you take a breath before standing.

The floor is cold, and you notice the carpet that’s usually under your feet is missing, and the silhouettes of the things you’ve made yours are different; this isn’t your room.

You approach the ball of chaos carefully, and stand five steps away from the space it occupies. This is the second time you’ve been close to it, the first time had been much closer and you hadn’t understood it then. You reach a hand out, and gently: “Hoseok...”

It slows, the shadows and wisps shifting gently like a leaf on a soft wind. It elongates into a vague outline and then, Hoseok stares through you before he sees you. He’s still wearing the clothes he left in earlier, coat and all, looking a little more than rattled even in the dark.

He raises a hand and it hovers by your cheek, thumb ghosting the skin like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. The lights didn’t come back on and it’s hard to decipher his emotions in the dark.

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice soft, barely a whisper in the darkness. Somewhere behind you, a lamp flickers on dimly and Hoseok looks like he’d shatter if you touched him.

“I’m okay.”

Hoseok’s hand drops slowly from your face as he blinks, as though waking from a dream. His gaze focuses on you, but there’s a vacancy in his eyes. For a moment, he seems almost confused, as if he’s not sure how he ended up here or what to make of your presence.

His touch is light, gentle, like he’s handling something fragile when his fingers brushes yours. You feel his fear, a palpable thing, thick and heavy. It’s a side of him you’ve never seen before, and you’re not sure what to do with it.

He exhales softly through his nose, nods once and then his eyes are somewhere above your head. “Are you in pain?”

“No,” Your back sings a low hymn, achy and sore, but it’s nothing to fuss over. “I’m okay.”

There’s a lot of things you want to ask, but you can’t seem to pick one. You want to ask him about the fog and the creature, about his wings or how you’re even alive to mull over said questions.

Instead, you ask: “Are you okay?”

Hoseok looks unprepared for that, his eyes snapping back to yours and he flounders. His mouth opens and closes before he stares at you in that unnerving way he had your first couple of days here, like he’s trying to understand you. Like he could strip you down to atoms and see what makes you act the way you do and therefore comprehend the bases of your human nature.

“I’m...” He blinks, looks away, and a muscle beneath his right eye twitches, “I’m okay.”

He doesn’t sound convinced and you aren’t either, and where his hand brushes yours you reach out first. His fingers are cold and he looks down, staring at your hand like it’s something foreign, but his grip tightens. It’s quiet for a moment, he takes a breath that doesn’t seem to ease the weight he carries.

“You almost died.” He says quietly, brows furrowed as though he can’t understand his own concern. “When I brought you here...I did so with the intention to keep you safe.”

It’s quiet again and you wait, and wait.

Hoseok’s eyes mist, his breath shudders on the exhale. “I wasn’t here in time. Again. I—”

His hand in yours tremble, he’s looking through you again, not entirely here and he looks like a man haunted by ghosts he alone could see. You stumble a step back when he falls to his knees before you, but didn’t get far as his arms wound tight around your waist. There’s something strange about a creature such as him with all his prowess and tainted grace kneeling at your feet, and his words tumble from his mouth like his tears that soak into your borrowed shirt and he lets you hold the chain that drags behind him.

The weight is heavy, heavy enough that it grounds you and you listen to it rattle as Hoseok tells you everything. In a broken tone about a broken home and a child he couldn’t reach in time to save, about the shadows that he let hide the light and now he struggles to find it. The things he’s done since that would make the most wicked men cower.

You make the connection, as he lays himself bare before you. He peeled back the layers of his being himself and let you look inside; the bases of his nature, the connotations of his own sins. It makes sense to you now. The way he would change like the tide and his near obsessive, compulsive need to wrap you in bubble wrap and put you in a glass case. He’d long stopped scaring you and somehow became a comfort despite himself.

Maybe it’s circumstantial, or something else entirely, but you’ve grown to care for him and he’s been caring for you from the start. However skewed that was.

When he’s stopped his babbling, and he’s no longer crying, he still holds you tight, whispering apologies against the dampness of your shirt. You meet his height, gently pulling his arms away from you and you kneel, too. He blinks away the last of his tears and you catch them with your thumbs just under his red-rimmed eyes.

He’s no longer looking through you, one of his hands covers yours, his lips brushing delicately against your wrist when he turns his head; your heart flutters. He whispers something you didn’t catch, he closes his eyes for a moment and when he opens them, he repeats: “You can leave if you want.”

“I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Will you stay, then?” He looks away when he asks, pressing his fingers against your palm in a way that tickles and distracts, and studies the lines of them quietly. “Stay here with me.”

There’s something like hope in his eyes that glints against the shadows that linger, shining like flecks gold in cracked rock. You nod slowly and he smiles easily, all teeth and heart shaped and his hand is warm when he cups your cheek with the one that isn’t holding yours.

“Your dream...” He says softly, and later you’d find that it troubled him the most; he would never do something like that – not to you. “I’m sorry.”

You store the fact that he knows about it at the back of your mind for later – later when he’s not pressing the pad of his thumb against the fullness of your bottom lip, tracing the shape of it. You’ve learnt to ebb and flow with him, a boat on his tide, taking the shift of his mood in stride.

There’s something in his eyes now that has nothing to do with how you found him earlier, something that makes you follow his lead, leaning in when he pulls you towards him. Deja vu accompanies the way he shifts, easing back and turning you as he does, leaning against a dresser you hadn’t noticed. He keeps his eyes locked with yours, directing your leg over his with a hand, and he settles you on his lap.

“This feels familiar.” He giggles, lifting his head to nose along your jaw and you’re reminded that he knows. Heat flares at the back of your neck and races up your ears, and when you push against his shoulders, he steadies and keeps you still with his hands on the top of your thighs and a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“I’m teasing.” He gives a crooked smile, tilting his head, “It’s cute that you think it’ll play out that way.”

“Isn’t it, though?” You blurt out, embarrassment forgotten. Honestly, the only thing that’s changed is the room, and when Hoseok pauses you smirk.

He smirks right back, something dangerous, and he chuckles, “Keep talking back. I like that.”

His hand slides up your back, and you don’t suppress the shiver that follows after it. The air grows heavy, charged with unspoken tension. You’re vaguely aware of your heart pounding, the rhythm matching the erratic thrum of your blood. He leaves a kiss where your jaw meets your neck, sucking lightly on the spot.

“Hoseok...” You start to say his name, but it comes out as a breathless whisper. You’re not sure what you intended to say, but the words get caught in your throat.

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “What is it?” he asks, his voice rough with desire and darker still. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to form words.

With a low growl, he takes your silence as an invitation, his fingers tangle in your hair, and he tilts your head down, his lips meeting yours in a kiss you gasp into. It quickly deepens, becoming more urgent, as if he’s trying to devour your very soul. His other hand finds your hip, squeezing possessively.

You’re lost in the sensation, the taste of him, the feel of his body pressed against yours. The world has narrowed to the two of you, to this moment.

A soft moan escapes your lips, and he takes that as a cue, his tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that sets your entire being ablaze.

His touch ignites a fire within you, consuming your senses and leaving you breathless, his hand sliding from your hip to your lower back, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you.

He pulls away slowly and you chase, he smirks against your kiss, and when he lifts his hips you feel the press of his arousal. His kisses trail, ghosting along your jaw, his tongue warm where your pulse thrums. He directs the shifts of your hips, grinding you down against clothed erection with a curse growled against your skin.

You follow the light tug of his hand in your hair, tilting your head back and to the side to give him more room to work. He hums appreciatively around your skin between his teeth and you hiss softly at the sting of the pull.

“So good for me.” He whispers when he pulls away. His fingers tap at your hip before he wraps his arm around, bracing the other against the dresser behind and stands easily.

A startled squeak leaves you, wrapping your arms around his neck even though he’s holding you steady. He reaches the bed in two strides, and drops you there, a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

You bounce a bit amongst the soft sheets with a soft giggle before you settle. His index finger curls beneath your chin and tilts, thumb brushing along your bottom lip again, “Ah.”

You comply easily, and then his thumb is pressing against your tongue. Saliva pools in your mouth and he hums when you wrap your lips around the digit. There’s a tick of his brow and the dull glint of his teeth when he smiles in the dim light of the singular lamp, and a darkness in his eyes that doesn’t scare you.

He tests the boundaries of what you’d allow, sliding his thumb along your tongue. His palm lays flat against your cheek, thumb reaching far until you feel the lurch of your stomach and pull back with a gasp.

He coos softly, leaning down just as he slips his finger out of your mouth to capture your lips in a kiss that’s more teeth and tongue than anything else. He nudges you back softly, large hands sneaking their way under your tee to reach your skin, desperate in a way that makes you think he’d die if he doesn’t.

He stops just shy of the undersides of your breasts, pulling away from the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. His breaths are shallow, he whispers your name, “I can get intense.”

“I know.”

“I could hurt you.”

“I know.”

He studies you for a moment, then, tugs gently on the hem of your tee-shirt, “Up.”

As you shift to sit, you’re not surprised to find you aren’t wearing anything underneath the tee-shirt and cotton shorts he’s put you in; dressing you properly must’ve been the last thing on his mind.

Hoseok stands back to shed his coat, dropping it carelessly on the floor. There’s a metallic clink as the buckle of his belt jingles, and the sound of it racing through the loops of his pants.

You – oddly – don’t feel ashamed under his gaze that sets a heat wherever it settles as he roams over your exposed upper half. Putting your weight on your hands, you lean back, watching Hoseok roll the long sleeves of his tee-shirt up his forearms.

His tongue darts out to moisten his lips as he closes the distance again, climbing into the bed on his knees and coming up until they’re on either side of your thighs. Silently he trails a finger down the slope of your neck, it tickles across your collarbone and his fingers spread and palms your left breast.

Your breath hitches and he chuckles, and you know very well he could feel the shifting of your thighs as you rub them together seeking friction. It’s been ages since anyone’s touched you like this, all of Hoseok’s teasing isn’t doing you much good.

His lips meet yours, licking into your mouth, and he groans when you suck on his tongue. His fingers lightly pinch at your nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. His other hand roams, goosebumps following it’s path down your side and stops where his fingers tease the band of your shorts.

Your hips buck as you whine and Hoseok pulls away, eyelids heavy, pupils all but gone, panting softly; looking drunk on you.

He smiles and makes a disapproving sound at the back of his throat. “Patience little dove.” He tuts, tilting his head at you, “I’ll give you what you need.”

He trails his fingers along the edges of your shorts before pulling them down and off, leaving you exposed to his touch. His hair tickles where it drags against your sensitive skin as he moves downward. He avoids where you need him most entirely and you squirm, a soft whine building in your chest.

He kisses and licks his way up your thighs, teasing you until you’re begging. Gently, he spreads your legs, kissing the inner thigh of your right before he rests it over his shoulder, pushing your other up and holding it there with a palm.

His dark gaze meets yours and you can’t hold it when he licks a hot stripe from your weeping entrance to your clit. Your hand shoots down to grip his hair, back arching when his responding growl vibrates against your core.

With each stroke of his tongue, Hoseok explores every inch of your most sensitive areas. He laps at your clit, drawing out a series of gasps and moans that fill the room. You’re shaking and swearing as he eats you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling around your clit in figure eights and then dipping into you. He moans like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted.

Your hands curl into the sheets, fingers digging in as if to anchor yourself. You’re lost in the sensations, a whirlwind of pleasure that leaves you breathless. And you wonder, briefly, if this was just something he was good at or something he had to hone.

His arm draping over your hips was the only warning you got before his lips wraps around your clit and sucks. Your back arches with a pitched moan and he slips a finger into your heat, and groans when you clench and gasp his name.

Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat a reminder of your vulnerability. Yet, paradoxically, it’s this vulnerability that fuels your desire, pushing you to new heights. You’re a wild thing now, driven by pure, primal need.

From between your legs, Hoseok watches your reactions, a dark-haired god feasting on your pleasure. His gaze is intense, a silent promise that he’ll take you to the edge. He adds another finger and they curl against your g-spot and it brings about your undoing.

If your arousal was a fire, Hoseok just threw gasoline on it just to watch it explode. He keeps hips lips around your clit as it throbs, fingers dragging along your fluttering walls and your eyes squeeze shut. You could barely breathe, lights dancing behind your eyelids as you gasp his name.

“Good girl.” Hoseok praises, lips brushing your clit and your thighs tremble. He rubs his hand gently over your stomach while you come down, and evilly, bites your thigh with a dark chuckle.

“Hoseok...” you whine as he laves his tongue over the stinging spot.

“Hm?” He smiles, “Want more, little dove?”

You almost cry as he changes course, pulling away entirely, and makes it clear he revel in your suffering when he coos mockingly, standing now.

He slowly unbuttons his pants, slowly pulls his legs out of them one after the other, smirking at you all the while. Even in the dim lighting, you could see the strain his cock against his black boxer briefs and you don’t miss the near inaudible sigh of relief from Hoseok at the change in pressure.

He crooks a finger at you, and shuffles closer as you do. He stands at the edge of the bed, and he sinks his fingers into your hair, brushing it back as you look up at him. He looks down his nose at  you, and raises a brow, “Be a good girl now, dove. Or do I have to teach you?”

“I know how to suck cock you ass.”

Hoseok shrugs, a playful smile shifting his expression as he gently squeezes your cheeks, puckering your lips, “Is all that little mouth good for talking back to me?”

“You said you like that.” You say defiantly.

Hoseok hums, “Have your fun then,” He says, smiling, “Won’t be able to say much in a bit, anyway.” He tugs on your hair, not hard enough to hurt, but enough to signal his impatience.

Funny, he was preaching patience is a virtue a while ago.

You scoff softly, holding your weight with a hand and tugging his boxers down with the other. His cock springs out, long and thick enough that you wonder if it would fit anywhere. It’s flushed red at the tip and leaking pre that beads and dribbles down the underside, and maybe if you focus enough you could just about see the throb of the vein that runs along side. A breath hisses through Hoseok’s teeth when you wrap your fingers around him, his eyes shut and his head tilts back.

Your eyes meet his when you slowly drag your hand down the length of his shaft, teasing him like he did you; turnabout is fair play. His hold in your hair tightens just a bit, eyes narrowing.

“Dangerous game you’re trying to start.” He murmurs, “I don’t take well t – fuck.” He hisses, the word tapering off into a low groan as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

The slightly salty taste of him bursts against your tongue and you hum, twisting your wrist as you bring your hand back up to meet your mouth and follow it down again. The saliva that escapes from the corners of your mouth helps with the glide.

You take a breath through your nose and relax your jaw, taking him in until he hits the back of your throat and you gag. Hoseok’s thighs tense and a stuttered breath leaves him.

“Easy there.” He soothingly runs his fingers through your hair, though it does nothing for the involuntary tears springing at your waterline. You decide to play it safe, not taking more than you can handle. Hoseok doesn’t seem to mind, letting you set your own pace, whispering swears and your praises.

Heat pools in your gut as your head bobs back and forth, your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, swirling around the head every time you pull back.

Slick with spit, your hand strokes the rest of him, and his groans vibrate in your ears. His fingers tighten in your hair, and it’s the only time he directs; holding you still.

“Take a deep breath for me, dove.” You do as told, and as you inhale, Hoseok slowly pushes forward, his cock reaching the back of your throat in no time at all. He groans above you, cock throbbing against your tongue, “There you go.”

He holds you there for a moment, only easing you back when your throat tightens with the need for air. He lets you breathe for a bit before he’s going again, thrusting slowly, once, twice and then holding you still. He keeps you there, cock throbbing at the back of your throat, your nose pressed against the neatly trimmed hair at the base.

When you gag he pulls you back, barely letting you breathe before he’s leaning down to kiss you, catching the string of drool that hangs from your bottom lip with his tongue. He lets you catch your breath, stepping back to pull his tee-shirt over his head and your mouth goes dry at the full expanse of his lithe frame.

Sitting back on your heels, breath a little ragged, you admire the sculpted lines of his body. Every movement is fluid and graceful, his muscles shifting smoothly beneath his skin.

His chest is defined, the faintest sheen of sweat highlighting each ripple of muscle. You can see the strength in his arms and shoulders, the way they flex as he moves. There’s a raw, primal energy about him, but it’s tempered by a quiet confidence.

Hoseok comes back to you quickly, cupping your cheek and kissing you fervently, moving with you as you shift back, cock smearing pre-cum along your inner thighs as he slots his narrow hips between them. He nibbles at your bottom lip, fingers sliding through your slick folds before the head of his cock nudges against your entrance.

For a quiet moment he stares then, kisses you tenderly as he breeches. It’s an easy glide, but it stings none the less, and you give an appreciative squeeze to his wrist when he goes slow. The stretch is bearable and soon the slight discomfort dissipates when he bottoms out and gives you a moment.

“Good?” he breathes out, hips pressed flush against yours. The same breath sucked back through his teeth when your walls tightens around him, his cock throbs in response and you keen. He grinds his hips down, pelvis pressing against your swollen clit and the sensation is almost too much and not nearly enough.

He’s close enough that you can run your tongue along his collarbone  and feel him shiver. Leave your own marks there with your teeth and revel in the growl that rumbles in his chest.

He hooks an arm at the back of your knee, pressing it against your chest as he raises and balances his weight. You’re spread open for him, his cock sinks deeper, rubbing against a spot that makes your eyes roll back. He gives shallow thrusts at first, pressing kisses and bruises wherever he could reach.

“Fuck.” Hoseok hisses between his teeth, hips still, palm against your cheek, and he watches you with something other than lust in his eyes. Something gentle as he caresses your cheek with his thumb. “Look at you, such a good girl. Taking everything I give you.”

His hips snap forward and you cry out, hands gripping the sheets between them at his sinful groan. He keeps a relentless pace, and you could feel him everywhere. His fingers on your skin, leaving you cold and hot at the same time, gripping your hips so tightly you fear they’ll bruise. It would simply add to the ones he’s already placed, scattered on your neck and chest like mismatched constellations in a dark sky.

He brings your hands up above your head, holding them there, together with his free one.

“You’re so good to me, Dove. And all mine, hm? Say it.” He grunts, “Say you belong to me, promise me that you’ll stay here with me.” He says this softly, tenderly, grinding his hips against yours in slow movements, tightening the coil in your stomach.

“I’m yours, I’m yours. I promise.” You babble, hips moving against his on their own accord. “I’ll stay. I promise. Please.”

Hoseok groans at your words, leaning down to capture your lips with his, tongue finding yours with ease. “That’s right. You’re mine. Fuck. All mine. Say it again.”

“I’m yours, Hoseok.”

He curses under his breath, straightening his form and brings his hands down to grip your hips tight, and sets a brutal pace. Head tilting back to reveal the marks you left on him, groaning before he looks back down at you, “Close? Hm? You’re squeezing so tight.” His words taunt, as did the smirk on his pretty pink lips, “Make a mess for me, Dove. Cum all over my cock. That’s it, good girl.”

White lights dance behind your tightly shut eyelids, a ringing in your ears. And Hoseok was fucking you through it, fast and hard, his praises a rumble in his chest. You lay there boneless, taking what he gave with a haze over your mind, a weak moan leaving your parted lips when his hand met your throat. Your heart spikes for another reason entirely, but he doesn’t squeeze. Fingers just there, barely any pressure, as he chased his own end, cock kissing your cervix with each trust, his other hand pressed against your lower stomach.

His thumb finds your clit and you jolt, catching his sinister smirk that curled his lips. “There’s no going back after this, baby. Fuck – you’re mine, understand?” You can feel him throbbing, feel the way his hips stutter on the draw back, he was close and you wanted nothing more than him marking you, claiming you in this way. When your eyes meet his, a shiver goes through you.

He comes undone with a low groan, hips flushed with your own, still thrusting through it, and you can see them with your own eyes, as he shudders and stills. His wings uncurl, dark feathers, darker than anything you’ve ever seen, dipped in silver, spreads out behind him and flutters. He leans down, pressing a kiss to your collarbone, gentle, barely there and you feel the warmth of his breath against your skin.

Your eyelids were heavy, and sleepily, you reach out to brush your fingers through the feathers that encased your forms. Hoseok stiffens before your fingers reach them, and chuckles, nipping softly at the flesh of your neck, “Go ahead, Dove.”

He relaxes, when your fingers touch, and you feel him shudder, groaning softly against your neck. They’re soft, your fingers disappearing in the inky blackness of them. With a final brush of his lips against your neck, Hoseok pulls back, his wings shimmering away like a mirage and your hand passes through air before lands limply at your side.

He squeezes your hip gently, mindful, and then he’s gone, walking out his room and into the hallway. The light that spills in helps you see a lot better than the dim lamp, and you notice that Hoseok’s bedroom looks much like the rest of his apartment; sleek and dark. There isn’t much to it either, the basics, more utilirian than a comfort space. You wonder if he uses it at all.

Hoseok comes back and gathers your boneless self into his arms. You rest your cheek against his collarbone, the sound of running water reaching your ears when he steps out into the hallway.

The tub is filling, steam rising from the bubbles that form at the top of the disturbed water. It smells like mint and some sort of fruit, and the temperature is just right when he steps into it and lowers you down. He positions you so that your back is against his chest and turns off the water when it’s high enough. You sense that he’s in his head again, not quite here even as he presses a soft kiss to the back of your neck.

“Feeling okay?” he asks suddenly, tracing a mindless pattern along your arm.

You hum softly, “Yeah. Sore, though.”

“I expected that.” Another kiss, apologetic, against your shoulder. “Also...” Hoseok pauses, “I finished inside you. I didn’t ask. I’m sorry.”

The realisation dawns on you too and you shift a little to look at him, “I don’t mind, but....is that a bad thing?”

There’s a strange half smile on his lips and he lifts a hand to tug softly on one tangled end of your hair, gently sifting his fingers through until he’s satisfied. “It can be, if it takes. But, I’ll get something for it tomorrow.”

You notice that the marks you left along his skin have begun to fade already, and you poke at them with a finger. He heals quickly, you figured. He chuckles softly, taking your hand to press kisses along your finger tips and then to your palm. Your finger brushes over the mole on his upper lip gently and watch him melt.

He studies you for a moment, the same way he did before he left earlier, though, it’s softer now. “Would you like to come with me?”

You brighten, perking up with a nod, “Is that okay?”

Hoseok hums, mischief in his eyes, “If you promise not to run off as soon as you step foot outside.”

You roll your eyes and turn around, and Hoseok pulls you back to him with an arm around your middle. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know, I was only teasing.” He chuckles.

You’re both quiet for a while, and you simply relax, almost falling asleep against him as the warm water soothes your aching muscles. You aren’t aware that you did, and only wake when Hoseok was just done tucking fresh clean sheets up to your chin. You’re back in his room but you don’t mind, the thought of going back to your own unsettles you right now. You haven’t forgotten your nightmare, and it’s something you’d definitely have to unpack another day.

You wait until he’s crawled in behind you, the warmth of him encasing you gently. His form melds against your back like he belongs there, an arm slipping under your head and the other over your hip. “Hoseok?”

“Yes Dove?”

You worry at your bottom lip, fingers finding his under the covers and they squeeze your own encouragingly. “There’s a friend of mine...I was with her before I met you.”

“I can help her.” He murmurs, and he sounds...sleepy. Today was a lot for him as well, you suppose. “I can get her a job here.”

You shift, turning to face him, he tucks you to him when you settle, chin resting on top of your head. “How are you gonna do that?”

You hear the smirk when he answers, “Do you think everything I have magically appeared? I own the hotel.”

“Wha—”

“Shh.” Hoseok squeezes your hip, “Go to sleep.”

Sometime later you’ll realise that Hoseok needed you more than he would admit. When you learn his tells he would help put himself back together with you instead of trying to do it alone.

Sometime later he’d take you to see her. When the wind is cold and the old oak tree reaches it’s bare, spindly arms to the frosted sky. When the day marks yet another year and he lets you put the flowers between the roots. He looks like a shadow against the glittering white, and he tells you he’s okay.

He’d take you to meet his friends at a club on the high-end and you’d would realise that he’s soft only with you and the guy who reminds you of a cat. With the others he’s closed off and friendly in a way that seems a little odd.

You’d see Abigail often and would skirt around how you actually met Hoseok when she’d ask. Anyone would think you’re crazy if you told them.

You spend most of your time at home while Hoseok goes off doing god knows what when he’s not there. It’s something to do with his friends and you never ask.

Then he’s there and everything beyond him and you and the space you both occupy doesn’t matter. And it’s kind of easy to forget where it all started – it’d been so long since you’d wondered where you were going to get anything to help you get by.

He’s made of cracks and splintered glass but he let you sink into the spaces, filled the pieces with you and settled. There would always be cracks in the glass that he’s made of, and there would always be a post in his fence that he needs to hammered in to fix. Despite the unconventional way you’d both started, the abnormality of his existence, you’d be there.

[bold, can't tag]

Tagging: @iammeandmeisiam , @imanhaitani @allhobbitstoisengard @dontstoptime @astormunchar @eoieopda @blog-name-idk @madbutgloriouspond @bangtansmauyeondan @taestefully-in-luv @mssukeyna​ @euphoricfilter @luaspersona

[astrxealis]

super busy but hi i miss ffxiv i played again today raghh happy 10th anniv the rising event makes me cry i love ffxiv :(( but anyway! bg3 thoughts in tags!

[mzannthropy]

Kindred spirits appear when you least expect them (geddit?).

Normally it wouldn't be a massive deal hating something popular, bc inevitably, everyone's gonna hate something popular at some point in their lives. But what do you do when you hate Me Before You and LOVE Sam Claflin, what do you do then? What do you do, when you see an article about him and get that dreaded feeling in your stomach as you click to open it, bc you know that film will be mentioned? (I want to hug every journalist who doesn't bring it up. Nicely done work, Men's Health.) What do you do when you see all the comments from people who love that film saying how much they cried? (Why? WHY???? What is there to cry about? How easily impressed people are by a cheap tearjerker?) What do you do when that film is sold as the best thing in romance, a True Love (how?), a "doomed love story" (how????? Romeo and Juliet is a doomed love story, not this trash). What do you do when you know there are much, much better, more quality films with Sam to watch, with better developed female characters AND love interests--but everyone ignores them? What do you do?

Will: You're the only thing that makes me wake up in the morning.

Also Will: kills himself.

How truly inspirational! /s

[juggalism]

fuuuck when the art is cute but they lightened the characters skin

[be-good-to-bugs]

in another life id of done wrestling

[chr0llossexygf]

IN RUINS 2

PAIRING: spencer reid x fem reader

SUMMARY: spencer reid has always had something against you. during a particular case, spencer snaps and says something he shouldn’t have said leaving you in ruins. but what happens when your in danger and he still hasn’t explained why he reacted the way he did. will he have the time?

IMPORTANT COMMENT!!!!: hi my pumpkin cupcake stinky wonky pookie bears. IM SO SORRY IVE BEEN A FRAUD! 💔💔 jokes but I’m rlly sorry I haven’t been writing for the past months ive been to the hospital multiple times and also had someone close to me pull a ‘I’m dead’ card on me and then I was oh! BUT I think I’m okay I think I’m better and I’ll start posting more I have a lot of ideas but tbh this one was a draft before allat happened so it’s shit but and I wanted to get rid of it cus it js reminded me of everything that happened before 😭 BUT I’m rlly rlly sorry ITS SO LATE

" why is your mom calling you she hasn't called you in 7 months " scott anderson says rubbing his face repeatedly his fingers shaking, his other hand is in a fist digging his nails in the palm of his hand. he walks away from jj who's tied up on the floor with her feet and hands wrapped in rope. the grip on your phone tightens.

" she's calling me because it was my aunts birthday scott." you say looking at scott in the eyes. he stands up biting his nails. " your lying to me." he says walking to you, his eyes dark. you wish his eyes at-least looked like they had nothing behind them, but his eyes definitely have something behind them.

his eyes look determined. they looked commited. and he’s looking at you. your eyes widen. your hands become sweaty. you take a step back. “ i’m not lying to you scott.” you respond back gently shaking your head. you raise your eyebrows softly smiling at him. “ i wouldn’t lie to you scott.” you say the grip on your hand tightening to the point where your hand is shaking.

his gaze softens for a second, his eyes aren't so dark now. his eyebrows soften. " you wouldn't lie to me y/ n?" he whispers gently walking up to you. you nod gulping, " ¡ wouldn't lie to you scotty" you whisper smiling. he smiles. taking another step towards you. you take a deep breath in.

"y-your doing a great job y/n" spencer's shaky voice speaks into the phone. it's the only thing keeping you sane right now. he sounds nervous. you can hear him gulp repeatedly. he's stuttering a lot right now. he's probably blinking a lot. a habit he has when he's nervous. a habit you've absorbed from afar. " your doing a really really great job y/n. i'm so proud of you." no he shouldn't have said that. he should not have said that. he shouldn't have said that. you tear up. why are you tearing up? you can't tear up right now. not right now. please not right now.

your throat feels heavy. your heart feels heavy. a part of you feels funny. your ears feel funny, never having heard those words before. your brain is trying to process the words. it can't process them. it's funny though. no matter how much insane messed up stuff you've heard on the job none of it really ever seemed to take a toll on you. but hearing those 5 words. it's taking a toll on you. and it's not the right time. why are they so triggering. what are they triggering? the inner child inside of you who never got to hear those words? the teen inside of you who never got to hear those words? or is it adult you who still hadn't heard those words up until now? it's too much. why are you tearing up?

“ why are you crying.” scott says. something in his eyes has changed. oh god. his eyes darken. his eyebrows tighten. he’s shaking his head smiling. “ what is your mom saying? why is she making you cry? do you want me to kill her?” he says with pleading eyes smiling. he’s taking a step towards you. “ or are you not talking to your mom right now…” he mumbles. your eyes widen. you shake your head. “ or…your not calling your mom you bitch!” he shouts taking another step towards you. you don’t have time to react. he grabs you by the neck slamming you against the wall. his hand tightens around your neck.

you choke on your words. the tears that gathered up finally start to fall. your free hand wraps around scott's arm thats choking you. you repeatedly hit his arm. " please stop." you plead shaking your head. his grip tightens on your neck. " your a liar. your just like him." he spits his gaze darkening. he grabs your phone throwing it across the room. it knocks over a glass vase.

"¡'m not like him." you choke out shaking your head. " shut up! yes you are!" he shouts in your voice, spit getting on your face.

" let her go!" ji shouts from the floor. her voice cracks mid sentence. probably due to fear. watching you struggle is affecting her. just watching you struggle makes her feel as though she is the one struggling.

scott turns his head around. " what did you just say?" he says slowly releasing you. you take a deep breath in. you look at scott. another wave of fear hits you. what's he gonna say to jj? what's he gonna do to jj? she shouldn't have said anything. she should've kept quiet. he can't hurt her. you have to do something.

" i said let her go. you can't hurt her. she's what you want right? you can't hurt her. why would you hurt someone you love?" jj says her eyes darting between you and scott. to scott she looks desperate, to you. you know what jj's trying to say with her eyes.' we will be fine. seeing ji look at you like that. a rush of adrenaline hit you. you have got to do something. why are your hands so weak. why do you feel as though you don't have control of your body. why do you feel as though you can't control anything. damn it.

" you show love by hurting the ones you love." he whispers. you slowly reach for the gun in your pocket, trying not to alert him. and god is it hard " y/ n would know." he says chuckling. your so close to the gun. " isn't that right y/n?" he turns around to look at you. he sees your hand. he sees the hand thats reaching for the gun. he grabs your gun. your hand immediately forms into a fist, you punch him in the jaw. he falls back. holding his jaw. " you bitch!" he shouts.

you run to jj. you drop down to your knees. your shaky hands immediately start to undo the knots of the rope. "jj you need to get out." you say out of breathe. your trembling hands making it harder to undo the rope quickly. " no- what. y/n dont. i'm not leaving without you. the team is coming t-they're on their way y/n. ji says shaking her head in denial. her hands are untied. " god jj! i always follow your orders! just follow mine! just this once." you snap back moving onto her legs. you untie her. " get out of here now jj! he wont hurt me jj. hes obsessed with me he wont. trust me." you say nodding.

jj hasn't been a profiler for a long time. anyone else on the team would've called you out for your bullshit right now. if he wanted to hurt you. he definitely would. he would do anything to get you to be obedient. he could probably kill you if he wanted to. but jj doesn't know that. she thinks he's just a stalker who's obsessed with you and probably wouldn't seriously harm you. but you know unsubs like him all too well.

ji stands up running to the door. she opens the door. she turns to look at you again. you look at her and smile. " just go." you mouth. she quickly nods running out and closing the door. a wave of relief washes over you. jj is fine. jj is okay. jj is safe. he can't hurt jj anymore.

your not fine. your not okay. your not safe. he can keep hurting you. you turn around. he's standing right behind you. he's looking down at you. he's standing tall. his eyes are on you. his expression is dark. his eyes are empty. not a single thought behind his eyes. you were wrong. his eyes without a single thought behind them is scarier. because now you know, there's nothing really stopping him. there's no determination. there's no commitment. there's absolutely nothing behind those eyes. those eyes that are just about to do you harm.

“ me looking down on you…does this remind you of anything?” he says tilting his head to the side smiling. you shake your head. but oh boy do you know exactly what he’s talking about. your dad. “ oh right sorry. let me do something that will surely make you remember.” he says chuckling. he crouches down. he punches you right in the eye, your left eye. the one with the healed over stitches. you stiffen at his touch. not just because your scared of him. yeah of course your scared of him. but also because you’ve never had someone touch you in such an intimate place. you’ve never had someone grab your cheek and gently caress your scars.

he starts laughing. " oh my god let me see that" he gently grabs your cheek. tilting your head up towards him. he runs his finger on the scar. " he did that didnt he?" he whispers gently rubbing the scar. " he gave you this scar didnt he? i read it.. in one of your hospital records. he gave you this 2 weeks before he left right?" he whispers gently caressing the scar. your shaky hands reaches for his cheek.

he stiffens at your touch. he's just like you. " he gave this to you..right?" you whisper, gently caressing the cut on his lips. scott nods. " you and me.we are the same y/n. we both grew up in the same households. we both put up the same abuse. we..we are meant for each other y/n. your meant for me. and i'm meant for you." he whispers caressing your cheek gently. you nod.

" yeah.yeah we belong together." you mumble nodding gently.

i thought so too..until i saw a picture of you and your co worker spencer reid together." he whispers softly still smiling. your eyes widen. " w-what." you mumble. he chuckles, " yeah.i saw a picture of you two together. it was when you and your team were working that case in chicago." he whispers tightening his grip on your cheek. you shake your head.

" s-spencer? spencer reid? he-he means absolutely nothing to me." you say gently reaching for his hand. " don't lie to me." he whispers tearing up. " i'm not lying to you scott." you whisper rubbing your thumb gently against his arm. " your lying to

me. all you do is lie. your just like him." he whispers tears rolling down his cheeks. " i'm not like him scott." you whisper shaking your head, trying to calm him.

" your just like him.you lying bitch." he shakes his head standing up, forcefully pulling you up with him. his fingers dig deeply into your cheeks, surely 100% going to leave a mark. but who cares at this point.

" scott just listen to me-' he cuts your desperate cries with a punch to the mouth. you fall down to the floor, on purpose however. you want him to think your weak. your worn out. he can easily control you. he can easily throw you around like a rag doll. so he can feel some sense of confidence and have a sense of control. something he probably never experienced.

"i'm not listening to you. now you listen to me. you... you listen to me y/n. we are both the same person. we deserve absolutely nothing. we deserve everything our fathers did to us-"

" you know that's not true scott." someone speaks up from behind scott. their voice is strong and stern. it brings you comfort. never would you have thought, laying on the floor with blood dripping down your chin that the sound of someone's voice would bring you comfort. your heart feels warm. you can feel the familiarity of having control over your body come back. you smile. how could you be smiling at a time like this? your smiling. really hard while looking down at the floor. you refused to look up at scott. you refuse to do so.

because deep down you know you would be staring at the version of yourself that's buried deep inside you. that part inside you that keeps you wondering everyday, if you didn't take the path you took would you be like that. would you have done the same thing he had done? what makes him so different from you. just because you carry an id that gives you power over any normal civilian and a gun that's supposed to protect you and others. that doesn't make you any different though. because even though you have those things, you still think like scott. what if you truly don't deserve anyone in this world that would treat you with respect? what if you truly deserve someone as messed up as fucked up ad you are? because then they wouldn't understand right? they wouldn't understand how your mind works. but..like scott said. you probably deserve someone like scott, someone so sick and twisted-

why are you like this. why are you taking his words to heart. are you really that desperate and pathetic that you start taking an unsubs words to heart just because he shared an intimate moment with you. why? is it because you never in your life had experienced something like that and now you yearn for it? you start to believe every word he's said. your so naive. and your so vain. how can you be so gullible. why are you the way that you are. none of what scott said is true. none of it, absolutely none of it.

your too preoccupied with your brain breaking you down too notice two people coming over to you. your zoning out. your thinking hard. really hard. something like this requires a lot of thinking. but it shouldn't though. your supposed to just shrug off his words. not pay any mind to them. he's a mentally ill unsub who's murdered 5 women. nothing he says should make you reason with his thinking. there's nothing to reason with. he's insane. your not insane. your not insane. your just a girl who's seen some insane things.

" hey. your okay. i got you." morgan says gently grabbing you by the arms. "i got you y/n." he whispers picking you up gently. you stand up looking at the wall infront of you still zoned out. " hey y/n." emily pats your shoulder gently tilting her head to the side looking at you with such pain. you shake your head and look at both of them. " hi emily." you respond looking at emily blinking repeatedly. " hey you." she says smiling. " we've gotta get you to the ambulance come on y/n." morgan says wrapping his arms around you, pushing you into him.

" j-i don't need medical care morgan." you say trying to push your heavy head away but finding it way too hard. he feels too comfortable. too comforting. he feels too nice. his cologne smells masculine. really masculine. why is it comforting? why does it bring you comfort? you close your tired eyes for a second. " hey hey don't close your eyes on me I/n." morgan says tilting his head around to take a look at you, you shake your head softly. " i'm not dying morgan." you groan.

emily chuckles. " morgan's probably enjoying this." emily says wrapping up arm around her shoulder helping you walk, " cant have derek enjoying himself too much we all know how cocky he'll get and how high his ego will sky rocket." emily adds on looking at you smiling. her words make you chuckle. a painful chuckle. when your lips curve to let out a laugh a wave of pain washes over your face. "ow ow." you chuckle closing your eyes. morgan shakes his head,

"yeah you wish you can have a bit of this ego." morgan replies.

rossi opens the house door. his eyes immediately look to you. " it's alright i've got her." he says running to you. " derek go take care of reid he's in the ambulance." rossi says putting his gun away. morgan slowly and gently lets you go. rossi quickly replaces morgan. your head immediately shoots up. that hurt. you didn't even know you could do that. why did your head shoot up so quickly? just a second ago you were leaning into morgan for support because you couldn't bare to hold your head up and now suddenly you have all the energy in the world to shoot your head up.

"w-wait whys reid in the ambulance?" you ask your eyes wide, your pretty sure your eyes are half closed though. you can't bare to hold them open. you can already feel your left eye bruising. you can taste blood in your mouth. and you know there's blood dripping down from your eyebrows, from the healed over stitch. rossi and emily push you forward helping you walk. why aren't they answering you? what happened to reid? whys he in an ambulance? is he injured? what's wrong with spencer? what happened to spence? " i think that's a question he should answer." rossi says. what does that mean?

your quickly brought out of the house, thank god. you feel like if you spent another second in there you would go ballistic and break down crying. your heads down, your too tired. you see a pair of shoes infront of you. who's shoes are those? who is that? and why did they stop right infront of you? it's not spencer. spence would never wear those shoes. he was wearing converse earlier. dark blue converse. why do you remember all of this? don't you have some sort of concussion? how do you remember what pair of shoes spencer wore? god...

you feel emily and rossi's grip weaken around you. the unfamiliar person infront of you reaches forward and takes you. they lead you away from rossi and emily. your too tired to even care. they lean you against them. " where's...what's wrong with dr spencer reid?" you mumble stumbling in their hood barely having the energy to hold yourself up. " it's alright i°ve got you. here." they sit you down on something. there's bright red lights flashing around you. an ambulance.

" ma'am i'm gonna get an IV bag started is that alright with you?" the medic asks opening a cabinet. you nod your head hazily. you lean your head against the walls of the ambulance. he takes your arm rolling your sleeve up. you feel the soft pinch. your thankful for it though. it's stopping you from dissociating and falling asleep. you don't wanna fall asleep until someone tells you why spencer is in an ambulance. why do you care for him? why do you care for him after everything's he said- oh right. after what he's said. why do you care for him after he just publicly embarrassed you? that's so stupid. why are you so pathetic and desperate. did he publicly embarrass you? half of the team probably already knew. it's not that hard to figure out. it’s probably why you are the way that you are. they’re profilers. of course they would figure that out. what he said was true. they all probably agree. oh god..

" let me go! let me go! i don't need medical attention she needs it more than me! let me see her!" you hear a voice shout from the distance, you recognise it. your heartbeat quickens. not like earlier though. not in the way your heartbeat quickened earlier. that was in fear. no. this. this is in relief. your stomach starts to stir. in nervousness. your still leaning your head against the wall, but your looking down. your hair covering your face. you stop hearing his voice.

" ma'am i need you to lift your head up." the medic says gently placing a tray next to you, a tray your guessing is full of medical supplies and alcohol. you softly nod your head sitting up. the medic grabs one of the medical instrument opening the wrapping. he moves to the side to quickly put on gloves.

“ oh my god y/n..” you hear him say your name, in so so much pain. he sounds so upset. is he in pain? why does he sound so upset. what happened to him. is he okay. you look up. you see him. you look into his eyes. and suddenly all the words he’s said earlier rush buck into your clouded messy mind. but they don’t hurt as much. your so used to men blurting out hurtful words to you and you having to get over them, what else do you do? ask them to apologise? expect them to apologise?

no. they don’t do that. they’ve never done that. best thing to do is just get over it, because you probably deserve it right? that’s what you were taught.

he looks tired. his eye bags look darker than what they usually would look like. his hair is messier then usual. the two buttons on his dark blue vest are unbuttoned. he’s wearing his fbi vest. his dark blue pants have wet stains on the side of them. your guessing because he would repeatedly wipe his sweaty hands on them. a habit he has when he’s nervous.

he looks into your eyes. he sees the bruise that's already forming in your eye. the trail of blood rolling down your eyebrow from what he can see, that scar you have. you have blood rolling down the side of your face. your neck is red. an imprint of a hand already appearing. his heart hurts. it hurts so much. seeing you like this. but how dare he right?

how dare he feel pain in his heart? the pain your feeling physically and mentally is probably 10x worse than what he’s feeling. he wishes he was feeling it though, he wishes that right in this second all your pain would be transferred to him. add it on to his pain. he feels so guilty. you don’t deserve this. this is his fault. this is his fault. this is all his fault. your never gonna look him in the eye again. whenever you do your gonna remember this day. and how much pain he put you through. he hates it. he hates it so much. he hates himself so much.

"y-y/n." he's out of breath. he doesn't know where to start. he didn't have time to think of an apology, spending the entire car ride panicking nervous about you and wether you were safe or not. but now he can't think of anything.

he can't think of anything when looking into your eyes, the only thing he's thinking of is how badly he wishes he can go back in time and prevent all of this from happening. or make all of this happen but only put himself in your shoes. make him go through all this pain instead of you. You don't deserve this. you don't deserve him. you don't deserve his stupid apology that's about to come, that is if he can even muster up an apology right now. you deserve so much better than him.

"y/n i'm so sorry." spencer starts shaking his head his eyes wide. he can't think of anything. his iq of 187 has suddenly dropped down to 20. spencer who seemed to never stop his rambling suddenly can't think of a single thing to ramble on. you just made him stupid. and not in the way it's supposed to be. you make him stupid when you smile at him. not like this. he can't think of anything. he doesn't know where to start. he shakes his head.

" god can't you do your job!" spencer snaps grabbing a medical wipe and pouring saline solution on it. he stands infront of you. his angry demeanour quickly vanishes once his infront of you. something just hit him. he freezes infront of you. it's like all the color, the little color he already had in his face has drained.

you look at him in confusion. all though your upset at him it doesn't stop you from caring and growing concerned. " w-what?" you say blinking repeatedly looking at him. hes still looking at you. his lips part. he blinks repeatedly. he shakes his head.

"i-i'm just..i got scared." he stutters his voice cracking. " why?" you ask tilting your head to the side. " i'm scared your gonna flinch once i touch you." he replies quickly. really quickly. any normal person wouldn't catch it. but you did. vou've learnt to keep up with spencer's quick rambling. oh. oh. whys he so considerate? y/n stop. you can think that. you look down at your thighs. unable to think of anything to say. if he did touch you. would you have flinched? would you have reacted? you don't know. but spencer's not him. right?

" i'm not gonna flinch spencer." you say looking up at him. he nods his head gulping, "a-alright." he says. he lifts his shaky hand up. he gently dabs the medical wipe on your cut. disinfecting it. ouch it burns. your nails dig into the palm of your hand. his eyes are stuck on the cut. the scar. he knows where it's from. he might've been with garcia when she did her usual background snooping on new members of the team 2 years ago. he remembers how guilty he felt after it. finding out about such a dark part of your life without your knowledge or permission.

but that guilt doesn't compare to the guilt he's feeling right now. he feels tremendously guilty, he caused the scar to re open. all because of his foolishness. if he just shut his mouth earlier and wasn't such a smart ass. if he maybe was the one to go with you to scott anderson's house and not jj he would've been able to protect you. he probably would've shot scott anderson the second he would've laid his hands on vou.

he doesn't trust himself aorund vou. atleast not from the harm of unsubs and has the need to shoot any of them if they ever did you harm. he would probably lose his job. if he was there he probably would've lost his job. but he doesn't care. for your safety. he doesn't care.

" i'm so sorry y/n-" you can feel the medical wipe shake on your eyebrow, from spencer's shaky hands.

" it's fine spencer." you mumble looking into his eyes. is it fine though? is it really fine? whys he apologising? he's not supposed to be apologising right? this is new. this is so very new. they never apologise after hurting you. this is so unfamiliar? how are you supposed to react? do you tell them how you really feel? do you immediately accept their apology? they never apologised to you when they hurt you. whys spencers apologising? what do you say?

" it's not fine y/n. i-i hurt you. i c-caused this." he says spitting his words out in a shaky manner. what do you say or do? you've never made it this far whenever something similar to this happened in the past.

" spencer it's fine. i shouldn't have egged you on earlier anyways-" why are you taking the blame. y/ n stop. it's not your fault. it never is your fault when something like this happens. y/n please. it's not your fault. stop taking the blame. his heart aches even more. his throat feels heavy. who hurt you like this? who broke your heart like this? who messed up your image of love like this? who hurt you this bad. he hates them. he hates them for making you like this.

" y/n i know you have the personal need to justify everything i've said but y/n stop, just stop. i hurt you okay. and even though saying that out loud and accepting the fact that i said that it thr worst thing i've ever done in my entire life it's nothing compared to what you felt when i said that. i don't wanna be like him y/n. i don't wanna be him. i don't want you to think i can be him. i don't want you to see him everytime you see me y/n. because that would kill me even more. y-you don't have to talk to me anymore y/n i just don't want you to flinch or have this horrible feeling of rememberence whenever you see me. please just.. just don't take the blame for this because it's my fault. this entire thing was my fault and i put you through this y/n. you don't deserve this. i'm really sorry.”

spencer rambles. trying to push the heavy feeling in his throat away. he can't cry. he doesn't deserve to cry right now. he's nervous though. he's nervous about what your gonna say. he doesn’t have the right to feel nervous though. he should accept whatever it is. he did this to himself. whatever the outcome is. he just hopes you don’t have a sense of fear wash over you whenever you look at him and get memories of this day. that is if you ever look at him after this day.

no one's ever said that to you. you feel your tired eyes tear up. your about to cry. oh no. spencer panics. does he comfort you? do you even want his comfort? he doesn't deserve to touch you, he thinks. he drops the medical wipe.

" n-no please don't cry. ill go call

over emily or jj or morgan or hotch just p-please dont cry. i'll go-" it physically aches him to leave you like this. but he has to. he doesn't want you to feel uncomfortable. he just made you cry. you must really hate him. he understands though. he just wishes you understand how sorry he is. but you probably will never know. because you probably don't expect him to feel sorry, you probably think he's faking it. he just needs you to understand that he's not him. he's not your dad. spencer actually feels sorry. he feels so so sorry for everything he's done and said. but you had to put up with years of your dad taking apologises you probably don't believe his. he hates himself.

you stand up. you barely have room to think clearly before a tear rolls down your cheek. spencer immediately removes his fbi vest, you bury your head against spencer's chest. you wrap your hands against his chest. he doesn't wrap his hands around you though. he's scared to touch you. your not sobbing. your too tired to sob. you just let tears slowly roll down your cheeks. " your not him spencer." you say out loud. spencer's heart skips a beat. he slowly wraps his hands around you. " i'm still mad at you. you shouldn't have said that earlier. b-but i forgive you spence." you mumble against his chest. he shakes his head, " you shouldn't forgive me y/n. your supposed to be mad at me. your supposed to be yelling at me. or-or hitting me." he says.

" i am mad at you spencer." you say pulling your head away wiping the tears.

"alright. good." he says

looking down at you. " oh god- im sorry that was stupid i shouldn't have hugged you-" you immediately start apologising shaking your head. you immediately sit back down. oh god your so stupid. why did you just hug him? your so embarrasing oh god. did you feel the need to hug spencer because you just needed to make sure that spencer wasn't him.

not that you would know what your dads embrace would feel like. but you just needed to make sure.

" no please don't apologise. d-do you mind if i sit next to you?" spencer asks pointing at the space next to you. you look at him and slowly nod your heart. he sits next to you. " once ive healed i'm yelling at you spencer." you say looking down at your legs, your tired eyes aching. " alright." spencer says nodding. you should yell at him. and you will. he had no right. but your too tired right now. you just hope. you really really hope that spencer doesn't spiral once your back in quantico and probably will forcefully be taken into the hospital by emily and jj. you really hope he doesn't drown himself in guilt and spiral. why are you so caring? does spencer care about you the way you care about him? that's foolish right? he wouldn't right? does he feel his heart quicken when he sees you? does he care the way you care? that's stupid god y/n you probably have a concussion just shut up.

yeah how stupid y/n. because if you knew the way spencer cared about you or the way his heart quickens when he sees you. you wouldn't believe it. it will take time though. it will take time for you to believe it. he's willing to work hard during that time. he just hopes you know even the slightest bit. but he wont say anything right now. you've already been through enough. he wont say anything for a while. though when the time is right. maybe you'll finally know how much he cares about you. for now, he'll settle for this just for now. until he can gain your trust back and make his feelings known. he'll settle for this. because just being next to you makes him happy.

@corpsebridenightamare

@crbug

@bradleybradshawsrealwife

@regulus-black-223048

@cupidddd-d

@lonelywitchv2

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@ciaraguy9

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@wanderingwillows

@eileen201804

@po55um

@krissisout

@storiesrevisited

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@th3-ros3

@aphr0d1teh

@herowhateve232

@julesandro

@alainabooks143

@mandyki

@kaitlynpcallmebeepme

@spencerreidswife13

@kenqki

@preciousbabypeter

@multifandom-l0ver

@fudosl

@alltheloveamelia

@mirophobic

@adoresope

@izzzzy-the-amazing

@marimorena06

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@slay-and-gay

@imagininghim

@vivi-wtz

@dory-98

[lewisvinga]

like a damn sociopath | lando norris x fem! reader

summary; in which fans finally connect the dots between y/n’s newest release and lando’s caption

fc; olivia rodrigo

warnings; cursing

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1

note; requested !

masterlist !

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by conangray, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: good 4 u out nowwww! just wanna say thank you soo much to the man made me write my favorite song 😁💜

username: mother is mothering once again

username: AHHHHH

conangray: and FUCK that man

yourusername: SO TRUE BESTIE

username: since when tf has she been in a relationship

username: she had a whole secret relationship and a secret breakup waitttt

username: ALREADY STREAMINGGG

username: damn who hurt her?

username: “now you can be a better man for your better girl” WHO HURT U MY QUEEN

username: “i’ve lost my mind… but you’re so unaffected… but i guess good for you” she ate w this fr

username: lily muni he liked? maybe her ex is a driver ??

username: LMAOO no.

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liked by oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and others !

landonorris: i’m doing great out here without you, like a damn sociopath 🤷‍♂️

username: wait…. isn’t that y/n’s newest single ?

username: not lando quoting mother

oscarpiastri: mate…

username: ijbol i can hear his disappointment 😭

username: wtf do u know piastri.

username: THESE PICS ATEEEE

username: WOAH

username: the good 4 u lyrics 🤔🤔🤔🤨🤨🤨🤨🤨 why u quoting y/n

username: he looks good asf here tho

alex_albon: ….nice

username: ALBON U TOO WHAT DO YOU KNOW???

username: alex and oscar commenting like they whats up🤨

username: pls share w the class 🤗🤗

alex_albon: no !

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⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; not him staring while i took this] [caption 2; i mean good 4 u but i’m in my party girl era now]

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; well!] [caption 2; at least i look good lol]

conangray replied to your story !

conangray girl…. i know that’s now who i think it is🤕

yourusername well don’t think !

conangray WHAT HAPPENED TO THE ORIGINAL PLOT OF THE MOVIE?🤬

yourusername he may or may not have been at the same club as me 2 wks ago

yourusername and he may or may not have drunkenly confessed how he regretted how he treated me and that the girl was just a rebound to forget me

yourusername and i may or may not have drunkenly agreed to a date, then soberly agreed to multiple more…😹😹

conangray oh bitch you’re down BAD😕

yourusername he’s treating me better now tho☹️

conangray taking him back after writing good 4 u? we lost her ladies and gentlemen 🫡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by landonorris, lilymhe, and others !

yourusername: guess writing a song abt your ex makes him realize he should’ve treated you better and now he takes you out on the picnic dates you’ve always wanted , like a damn sociopath 🤓

tagged; landonorris

username: WHATTHE FUCK

conangray: ou girl

yourusername: stop😣😣

landonorris: i was a sociopath for doing u dirty

yourusername: u did me SO dirty but ig the flowers n the picnic dates are slowly making up for it🙄🙄🙄

landonorris: sorry, my love 😞🌷

username: omg oomf was right

username: wait but i kinda like them together

username: girllll u write good 4 u only to get back w the same man

lilymhe: ……

yourusername: THIS MEANS I CAN GO TO THE PADDOCK AGAIN AND SEE U

lilymhe: YESSSSS🎉🎉🎉🥳🥳

username: i did nawt expect this what

username: my fave singer dating my fave driver wtf is thisss😭😭

username: they ate tho

username: whatta fine couple tbh

[the-dumpster-fire-of-life]

hello could you write a fic for miles42 having an airhead gf like shes his opposite (kind, always smiling, extroverted but shes a bit blunt) !! for the fic u can do wtv u want tbh !! but if u dont have any inspiration u could do something about her meeting miles42’s mom nd uncle or, him taking his gf on a date or wtv u want bc idk if my ideas are good lmaoo

(Hello! Sure I can and here ya go! Enjoy!)

Earth 42!Miles Morales x Opposite!Reader

It's so funny how you guys even ended up getting together

You both obviously clash but oddly work out well together

Even Miles was surprised he ended up with you

"Blink twice if he kidnapped you, kid."

Words of Uncle Aaron the first time he met you

When Uncle Aaron and his mother met you, they probably thought he was gonna be with someone who matched him, probably Emo or at least similar to him

And to their surprise, and his mother's joy

You walked into the door!

His mother thinks your good for Miles, she sees you're able to get him to smile more, he's happier and she sometimes sees specks of Miles before his dad died come back

Even if Miles is surprised at himself he really does love you

He needs someone like you in his life

Walking down the street hand in hand people would never think that you guys were together

Even in photos, you're smiling, it always seems like he has a permanent frown on his face until out come along

It always looks like two completely different photos, but no

He warns you about being kind to everyone though, as he noticed is a habit of yours

Brooklyn isn't safe, everyone knows that and you could get hurt because you're too kind

You're kinda an airhead also

You once followed a man into his house because he said he had cats and she had kittens

Don't worry, the man was a kind and older man but the principle still stands

Miles noticed you're sorta an airhead, not a bad thing but something he looks out for you for

But he truly does love how much you care for him, his mom and even Uncle Aaron

When you guys first met he was a little suspicious

Just because he wasn't used to that in Brooklyn anymore

You were also incredibly blunt

He found it funny at first when it was at other people

He gets kinda frozen and can't help but sigh when it's directed at him

He thought Uncle Aaron would not like you when he brought you home

Not him mom

But you did great!

He didn't even need to warn you about calling his mom by her first name

He's gotta get used to you being so extroverted

Especially because now he is more closed off and likes to keep to himself more

Especially being the Prowler

But when you want to do anything and everything, social and make friends

He's the one looking over your shoulder and directing you away from assholes

He loves you, but he doesn't want you being hurt

You got them scary boyfriend privileges

I think you guys make a great pair

Miles was initially hesitant to introduce you to his mom and Uncle Aaron, but you wore him down.

So that's how he stood in the hallway of his own apartment like the guest, as his mother already liked you.

Plus, you didn't call her by her first name.

"Aye, you're so pretty, Mija." Miles' mother smiled at you, getting a genuine one back as she stood next to you, glancing at Miles.

"Oh, ¿cómo te las arreglaste?" Mrs. Morales started, her son blushed as he stood behind you, watching his mom practically flaunt around you.

"Mom!" Miles complained, Mrs. Morales waving him off with an eye roll.

"How did you meet my son of all people, hon?" Mrs. Morales asked, guiding you to the kitchen as you followed behind her, laughing under your breath.

"Well, I was walking to Mr. Gonzalez's bakery, and I was in line but I looked outside," you started, Miles freezing in embarrassment at the upcoming story as Uncle Aaron laughed.

"I saw Miles standing there in the window, but he was just staring at me?" You said, a confused tone in your voice as Miles could hear his mom chuckle.

"Anyway, I smiled at him and he sorta jumped. He…sorta smiled back? It was a little loopy but then he turned away real quick, but he tripped."

"Oh, man…" Uncle Aaron laughed, wrapping an arm around his nephew's shoulder as Miles looked down, blushing thankfully hidden as he hid his face in his shirt.

"He fell sorta hard so I went outside to help him, and yeah!" You smiled, Miles shaking his head as Uncle Aaron elbowed him.

"Stop…" Miles muttered, turning around to head to the kitchen as Uncle Aaron couldn't keep in his laugh any more.

Hey, you said it how it was.

Miles may complain about it, but seeing how you were sitting on the counter talking to his mom with a smile on his face, he couldn't complain about it much.

[bluexiao]

#monsieur neuvillette’s relationship headcanons

NOTES. finally a work after months. i missed this, tbh. but hey, here’s my new husband for you. might also have a part 2 of this i feel like i haven’t written everything yet

WARNING. real identity spoilers (nothing too explicit from the current archon quest i haven’t even done it yet oops)

NEUVILLETTE

(Before)

Before the relationship began, it took a long while for him to truly process what he had been feeling towards you—to be frank, he even thought he was getting sick (which was impossible. He never got sick.), though that thought comes to an end the moment he realizes that the effects only happen when he is around you. Only you.

He had heard of love before. Had seen love. Had read about love. Not just the platonic or familial ones, but also romance and more. And yet, he does not understand them, simply because he considers them as something someone like him would not eventually feel.

And yet, it all changed when he first saw you. Curiosity turns to admiration, and admiration turns to anxiety—which is never good; the sweating on his hands and the back of his neck, and the pressure on his chest whenever your presence comes.

He was only reminded of the term romance when he consulted Sigewinne about it.

“Does it only happen around a certain person, Monsieur?” “Monsieur, I think you are simply in love,” she says. “Humans do tend to have the same symptoms but it does not necessarily mean you are sick. It appears to me that you feel the same as well. Does their presence give you happiness?”

He did not even need to ponder over his answer. What he does ponder over is how he should deal with it. The evidence is overwhelming, and there is only one verdict. And yet, where does this lead to?

Contrary to popular belief, he will confess as soon as he is sure of his feelings. He is an honest and honorable man. He would confess his feelings if he could, but it did take some time knowing how busy his schedule was.

The only thing that probably was able to push him to go through was the Melusines. It took them weeks to have him clear his schedule up for a nice little dinner date that they had planned and suggested to the Monsieur.

“Recently, I have come to realize that I have developed a romantic interest with you, Y/n.”

“I do not intend to put pressure on you. I shall accept whatever judgment you make. I do not wish for you to change how you treat me in any way.”

“If you may… I can only ask to indulge in this meal with you for tonight. Your company eases me greatly.”

Brutally honest. It may even drive you crazy how this all seems so easy on him.

But in reality, his palms were sweating underneath his gloves and the slightly cool sensation of the utensils as he blurts out his intentions for setting up such an occasion. His heart was pounding but he could not process whether this was about how you looked especially good tonight or his nervousness with finally confessing his feelings for you.

Or maybe both. Either way, all evidence of such leads to only one thing—you.

Bonus; I do think he’ll reveal who he is first before he gets into a relationship with you but that really depends on how observant you are.

(During)

It was a surprise to him, at the very least, how he had managed to keep you as his lover despite what he lacks. He knew how he was not well-versed with “feelings” per se (just in his mind), but you, the angel that you’ve always been, chose to be with him.

The sudden change did not occur to him much, actually. But he did notice how much his mind lingers to you more often than not, and how he will end up recalling how you are now his one and only lover.

It takes time for him to adjust, but it all started with frequent conversations (much more than before), then sending flowers to your place every other day (constantly), though most of the time they’re delivered by someone else, knowing how busy he is as the Chief Justice.

Or when he started to first brush his gloved fingers to yours.

When he does something, it will be constant. (Maybe this also comes from being responsible and disciplined as shown by being the Chief Justice). All the things that he did before, he still does them now—unless you’ve told him no, of course.

He is definitely a man of his honor!!

And would always ask for your permission first before he touches your hand, or holds them, or hugs you, or kisses you.

He does like pampering and showering you with “offerings” though.

Stuff like buying your favorite flowers or trinkets once or twice a week, making sure you have enough supply of the best water out there. And even with how he always has an umbrella or parasol for you (ones he got ever since you got together; one in his office, one that’s foldable for him to carry under his coat, and one he gave to you for every time you leave the house.

Through the course of the relationship, he learned about the beauty of life, which is how he sometimes brings you flowers despite its short life. However, he still secretly prefers giving you trinkets for your hoard of gifts from him, mostly because it symbolizes his everlasting love for you. (He’s very romantic like that, even if he does not know he is)

He will also introduce every single Melusine in Fontaine. At first, it may surprise you how he knows all of their names, but it will surprise you even more the moment you realize you could do the same. If you do, he’ll love you even more (which he thought was impossible at first as he knew he already loves you very much).

The Melusines will treat you as their other parent the moment it is known amongst all of them that you’re his lover. Sigewinne, for one, would always give you a personalized gift. She would also always send you letters to ask how you are and probably be quite excited whenever you accept an invitation for a cup of tea.

Monsieur Neuvillete is not jealous, but he is possessive and territorial. It’s a dragon instinct, forgive him.

It also comes with being protective. Though he’s not feral, he would make sure to always shield you away from any harm, or anything that might take you away.

One time, he had to deal with a bunch of… shameless individuals who had tried to make a move on you, and though he has great trust on you, he cannot help but have the same self-deprecating voices in the back of his mind.

Though instinctively, he finds himself buying you trinkets or flowers again.

“Hm? You just gave me one earlier, didn’t you?” You look up with a confused look but still hold that smile that stirs butterflies in his chest.

He nodded. “The flowers reminded me of you, mon amour. I could not help but feel the urge to give it to you.”

It does not stop him from giving you offerings.

Of course, he cannot just give up on you. The ruling of whoever deserves your love and affection the most. Of course, he is at an advantage knowing that he’s already your lover.

“Is there something wrong?” You looked up to him, hearing the pitter patter of the rain outside through the taps on the windows. You had your hands on his shoulders, gently rubbing them with your palms.

“It’s nothing, mon cœur, no need to worry.” He flashes you a reassuring smile, and yet, at the back of his mind, he wondered how you could have thought to check on him. Is it perhaps the gloominess in the atmosphere?

You frown as you look at him intently, “There are times when you’d shower me gifts with a saddened look on you. I’m worried, is all.”

He stares at you then. Ah, so you noticed, he thought.

He chuckles as he shakes his head and stands right next to you. “May I?” He opens his arms and you nod and dive right into his chest. He enclosed you into an embrace, relishing the feeling of your warmth.

He kisses your forehead then. “Allow me to bask in your presence for a while.”

For short, one of the best. Definitely a 100/10.

[asapeveryday]

SHOCK FACTOR★彡 PART 3

Previous. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing, suggestive jokes/language, tension

Summary: having Paige’s number means she can bother you whenever she wants, but maybe a night out with her isn’t a bother at all.

A/n: enjoy guys 😇lmk what you think of this one

YOU

is this paige?

???

Has anyone else given you their number since you got here?

YOU

no…

PAIGE

Aight, so who else would it be then? 🤘🏼

YOU

i should’ve thrown out that napkin tbh!🙂

PAIGE

Ignoring that. How’s the hangover?

YOU

it’s ok. getting coffee helped ig

PAIGE

Having another night out might help too…if u fw that

YOU

with you? id rather die then “fw that” 🙏

PAIGE

Ok rot in ya hotel room see if I care 🤷🏼‍♀️

Seen.

PAIGE

Actually nvm I feel bad for ur miserable ass. U shud fr go out and see what Connecticut has to offer. Ever been to Gianni’s?

YOU

no i haven’t, I’ve only been here for like two days. is it italian food?

PAIGE

Only the best in town 😉 u shud def go

YOU

ugh I would but i have to see if elaine can take me cus my teammates are busy

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

YOU

typing…

YOU CAN FEEL yourself getting socially drained as you text her, at least that’s what you tell yourself. Paige is infuriating and arrogant, which comes with the deadly additions of charisma and the ability to keep you on edge with every word spoken, or even typed.

You’d always known of this, even before your game with her that day. A player like Paige can be hard to come across; perfectly capable, talented and independent yet somehow the best team player out there, sharing passes she can without a doubt make. Why? Because she doesn’t need to prove anything.

It often bothered you, especially since you constantly needed to prove yourself during the start of your college career. You took every shot you could get your hands on, and she gave shots away like candy whilst still having a huge reputation as a player. Obviously it went deeper than that, but the simple fact just stuck to your brain.

You can’t help but recall her face, inches from yours attempting to pry your ball from your grasp. Like she was deserving, like it was hers for the taking. She had made a similar face on the panel where she dissed you soon afterwards, and then again while watching you at the bar, and just before writing her number on the napkin. You wondered if she was making that face right now as she texts you.

PAIGE

I could take u if u want?

The text is simple but it summons some sort of unique feeling in you. Paige Bueckers is offering to pick you up in her car, on her night off, and take you to a restaurant. And you, for whatever reason, are considering saying yes.

Sighing to yourself, you weigh your options. Option one: you sit around your hotel alone till your teammates come back, most probably drunk from a bar since it’s a Saturday. Option two: you ask Elaine to take you out once again, even though you’re probably gonna see her the whole week you’re here. Option three: you let the girl who shit-talked you at a post game conference take you out for dinner.

YOU

i guess i should go out. DONT act like ur doing me a favour tho….n if I don’t have fun i’m blocking u.

PAIGE

Drop the addy. I’ll come by in an hour

Seen.

After hurriedly pulling yourself together, taking an Advil, checking out the restaurant’s Instagram and getting ready you can’t help but find your heart steadily hammering inside of you. Paige is coming to your hotel. You’re gonna be in her car. She’s taking you to her favourite restaurant. This has to be the most peculiar thing that has happened all year.

-

The car ride is significantly better then you expected it would be. Paige adamantly seems to prevent any room for awkward silence to seep through, commenting on your outfit and filling the vehicle with music that makes the interior buzz from the volume. She has a free look on her face, chair reclined more then you’d dare if you were in the drivers seat, hair blowing in her face from the windows being down.

“I’m surprised you’re driving me out.” You say, finally airing what was on your mind.

Paige shrugs. “Didn’t feel like drinking today. Plus, I’m in the mood to be generous and show you what Storrs has.”

“If someone told me I’d be hanging out with Paige Bueckers like a week ago, I think I’d be fucking appalled. Or disgusted. Or both.” You laugh.

She chuckles, glancing at you sneakily. “You swear a lot, don’t you?”

“Awe my bad.” You pout, giving her a fake-concerned look. “Forgot you can’t handle a little language.”

“I can handle it,” she grumbles. “I just think cursing is better for specific situations.”

“Like what?”

Paige wets her lips almost sheepishly, but she keeps her eyes straight on the road. “Like sex.”

A beat passes before you respond “Sorry I couldn’t savour a couple words for you and your little kink.”

She looks over at you now, and you meet her gaze as equally as you can. She just lets out a smile, shaking her head to herself as she pulls into the parking lot. You try to ignore the elevator-sinking feeling in your stomach from her words as you get out from the car.

The restaurant is beautiful. It’s cozy, ambient and well decorated. Not too fancy and not too full, just perfect. You’re seated in a more secluded area, per Paige’s request. She orders for you, insisting she knows exactly what to get for the best possible experience.

The food is good, and you don’t feel the need to hide it from Paige, who visibly grows at your praise for the place she picked out.

“So, are you jus in Connecticut for Elaine?” She says.

“Not really.” You reply. “Me and some of the others are just doing a little East Coast road-trip. I wasn’t really interested in coming to Storrs, but it made sense to come by and see her.”

“For a whole week?” She raises her eyebrow. “Seems like you’re close.”

“I was only gonna stay in Storrs for a couple days, then go to Hartford but the girls seem to like it here.” You shrug. “They think it’s cute, being a small town and all, but it’s pretty boring if you’re not a student.”

“It’s better if you’re with fun people.” She smiles.

“I hope you don’t think you’re fun.”

“Compared to Elaine I definitely am.” Paige scoffs.

You can’t help but feel a little more hostility than humour in her tone.

“Do you guys know each other?” You ask, as sly and innocent as you can muster. Paige seems hesitant.

“Nah.” She finally decides. “I mean, we’ve talked before. Ion know her personally.”

“It’s kinda funny, she said she doesn’t pay much attention to you but I think she might have a little crush.” You laugh.

Paige visibly stiffens at this, which catches you by surprise.

In a split second she regains her calm, unbothered composure. “What has she said?”

“Not much.” You shrug. “Just seems a little interested.”

Paige’s jaw clenches for a moment, and you’re not surprised when she changes the subject. “How many people have been on your case since I posted that picture of us from the bar on my story?”

“God, so many.” You laugh, shaking your head. “You?”

“You don’t even wanna know.” She scoffs. “Not sure why everyone was so crazy bout it though, s’not like we were beefing for real.”

“Right!” You say, happy she seems to be on the same page. “It was just some petty crap. I guess people just really were hoping there would be some rivalry.”

You think for a moment, before saying. “Maybe we should keep this drama thing up. Might be fun.”

“It’s a lil too late for that,” Paige shakes her head with a slight smile. “remember how KK and Ice were on live yesterday at the coffee shop? Yeah, we kinda were in the background at some point. People saw us talking.”

“You’re joking.”

“Dead serious. There are edits and everything.”

You rest your head in your hands, elbows on the table, lessening the proximity between you and her. “I only get into these weird ass situations when I interact with you, Paige.”

She sits up in her seat, blue eyes quickly looking you up and down. “Yet you’re still here.”

“Girl’s gotta have fun.” You shrug. Her foot hits yours under the table, her eyebrow raised as if challenging you. You have a sudden thought of going under the table and letting your hands unzip her cargo pants, but instead you just kick her back.

“Wanna go?” She asks. You don’t want to go back to the hotel, and she seems to pick up on it. “The area we’re in is nice. We can walk around a bit.”

You smile and nod. “Split the bill?”

“Fuck no.” She shoots you a look, pulling out her credit card from the back of her phone.

“You cursed!” You exclaim, to which she scoffs.

“I said it’s alright in specific situations.”

Now it’s your turn to scoff. “Well we’re not having sex, are we?”

The way her eyelashes flutter at your question gives you jitters. “Aight, stop talking.” She finally manages to respond. You just send her a look that you hope makes her nervous.

-

“You’re not funny.” She grumbles, attempting to grab your phone from you.

“Back off, Bueckers! I’m serious.” You laugh, sidestepping her with your phone above your head. The street was empty and the lights were on, putting the two of you in a yellow glow against the night. You’d been walking around the neighbourhood, observing houses and learning a bit about Storrs for the past hour.

“Give me your phone, I know you ain’t deleting those.” She huffs, grabbing for your phone. You try to escape her grasp but she’s got longer limbs, so eventually your phone is in her pocket and she’s wearing a proud look on her face.

It’s nice to walk in the quiet of evening, her beside you. You have no idea where you are but you can’t help but trust she can get you back to the car in no time. Not just yet though.

You turn to look at Paige almost shamelessly. There’s just so much to observe with her. Her confident posture, toothy smile, sleek straightened blonde hair, even the baggy cargo pants and sweater. She always looked good, it never failed to annoy you.

“Either your pants are too tight or crazy baggy.” You note. She just raises her eyebrow.

“Sounds like you just want me to take my pants off at this point.”

“Wouldn’t mind a little show.” You reply almost instantly, shocking yourself at the surge of confidence. She doesn’t seem taken aback, in fact she’s intrigued.

“Is that your usual routine? Have a meal out then have a meal at home?”

“Maybe it is.” You shrug. “I never object to a wine n dine.”

“And what exactly would you object to?”

“Cocky girls who think they’re the shit.” You say, turning your head to face her. You don’t mean to target her, but she simply smiles.

“Is it really being cocky if I can back it up though?” Paige asks quietly. You’re not walking anymore, stuck in place on an empty path between buildings. She’s closing in on you until your back hits a brick wall. The way Paige is staring down at you, hands in her pockets, lip between her teeth. It’s nothing you’d object to, ever.

“I won’t believe it till I see it.” You mutter, holding her eye. The air is tense in a new way that you haven’t felt with her since you first met in the bar. Her face is entrancing.

Paige’s hands lift your jaw upwards, and she leans into your ear. “You might not see it,” she mumbles, breath hot against your skin. “But you’ll definitely feel it.”

When she pulls back from your ear she stays hovering just above you, hands chastely holding your head up. You’re in the perfect position to kiss, and you can’t stop your eyes from darting between her electric stare to her lush, pink lips.

You can literally feel her breath on your mouth when a piercing ring cuts through the moment. It’s coming from her pocket, and she pulls out your phone. Paige’s face twists as she reads the screen. “It’s Elaine.”

“Just- just decline it.” You rush out, not caring how desperate you sound. You can feel how wet you are, and the lack of heat against you is blaring.

“She texted you too.” Paige scoffs. “She’s waiting for you at your hotel.”

You don’t even know what to say. Paige’s face is expressionless. You’re disappointed, but there’s no point in begging. Nothing really happened.

“Let’s get you home.” She says, starting to walk back from where you came. “Shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Her tone is dripping with toxicity. It makes you shiver.

[yayakoishii]

Want | Sanji x Chubby! Reader

Fandom: One Piece

Pairing: Vinsmoke Sanji x Chubby! Reader

WC: 5.5k

Genre: Fluff, slight Angst

Warnings: Sexual harrasment, derogatory terms for chubby people, mentions of blood, insecurities that lead to a bit of light self derogation (Please remember you're absolutely beautiful as you are <3)

A/n: The response on Hunger is insane. Over 700 likes?! I didn't expect much beyond a few 10-20 likes, thank you for all the love 😭 This is another self indulgent fic, more personal to me because I'm chubby myself so... I'm not super proud of the pacing tbh, but it's still pretty good, in my (biased) opinion, haha. I hope you enjoy it!!! ♡

also available on ao3!

When you joined the Straw Hat crew, you didn't expect to fall in love with the blonde chef.

Actually, when you joined them, you weren't in the mindset to think about love and silly crushes. Your island had been destroyed by the Marines for a 'good cause' and despite the Straw Hats' best attempt, you were the only remaining survivor. Luffy kindly offered you a place on his crew, and you joined as an assistant to Chopper, slowly learning from him.

The first few weeks after you joined were tough for you, who had never travelled outside of your island. It took time to get used to the environmental changes along with the emotional grief of losing all your loved ones. The crew tried their best to cheer you up in their own ways, and you would forever be grateful for every one of them for at least trying, even if their methods weren't the most effective for you. It was the thought and the sentiment behind it that counted.

But what did work for you was… food. Ever since you were a child, you had loved food and it was the way you connected to life. Though you were not the greatest cook out there, you were capable of making things that were edible and quite good at times. On the ship though, you never had to cook, because Sanji would always do all the cooking. Whenever you offered to help, to take your mind off the pain you were feeling, he would kindly decline, saying that he would make you whatever you wanted.

But he couldn't. The dishes from your island were not recipes known quite to the rest of the world. Hell, even you didn't know all of them, save for some of your favourite foods that you had learnt from your mother. So you snuck in after dinner and made a dish from your hometown. It wasn't the best food you ever cooked, but it still meant something to you, because you were reminded of home.

You wrote down all the recipes you knew into a book, and kept it close. Whenever you missed your home, you would sneak into the kitchen at night and make yourself something with your wonky cooking skills that made the dish taste different every time. Still, the familiarity was enough to comfort you and let you wallow in the grief at the same time.

Until one day, you couldn't find your book.

"Nami?" You called unsurely to the navigator, who was lying on the deck under shade next to Robin. Behind them, Sanji was serving drinks. The three looked at you in question and suddenly under the scrutiny, your confidence faltered. "Um, uh.. d- did you see a journal somewhere? I can't find mine…"

"The brown one?" She asked, pushing her sunglasses up into her hair. You nodded frantically, hoping she knew. "I don't think I did. Did you check under your bed?"

"I did," you whispered, feeling the sadness wash over you again. It's not like you didn't still remember the recipes, but your memory wasn't the best. Without the book, it would be hard to remember them all.

"Don't worry, we'll find it," Nami got up and reassured you, looking concerned. "Sanji. Robin."

The two of them nodded along and then the four of you were searching for it everywhere, until Sanji had to excuse himself apologetically because he had to go cook lunch. You could only nod, trying not to get down in the dumps again over a book, but it felt a little hopeless. Until you heard Sanji shout from the kitchen. The three of you ran over to find him scolding Luffy, your journal in his hand.

"I just wanted to see what was in it!" Luffy pouted, his rubbery hands swinging around to try and get it back.

"That's an invasion of privacy, Luffy!" Sanji looked angry, but you were too relieved about the fact that you had found the book to get upset with Luffy.

"It's okay," you said, reaching forward to get the book. "It's just… recipes, Luffy. From my hometown."

There was silence in the kitchen for a few seconds and Luffy's face dropped into a serious look.

"I'm sorry," he said, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I thought… If I knew how to help you, you'd be happier."

It made you laugh softly, your heart warm at his kind intentions.

"Thank you, Captain," you smiled at him, eyes crinkling into crescent moons. "I am happy here. I just… miss my home, sometimes."

He wrapped you into a hug and Nami ruffled your hair a little. You smiled under the attention, holding the book close. Sanji for once was quiet, just staring at the book thoughtfully, though you didn't notice it then.

A few days after that event, Sanji called you to the kitchen before lunchtime. Curiously, you followed him to find… a plate of your favourite dish from your hometown. It was plated beautifully, making it look fancy and yet it still had that homey feeling to it. Sanji didn't say a word, just held out the chair for you to sit. You sat down in a daze, too focused on the smell of it lingering in the room.

It smelled like home.

And when you tasted it, you burst into tears. Because it tasted like home. It tasted exactly like your mom's. All the tears you had held back to not worry the crew were now spilling out without any end but you didn't care. Here, where only Sanji could see you, you let it all out. He didn't say anything, just placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and squeezed to let you know he's there for you. You turned around to face him, but the tears made it all blurry. Knocking your head against his stomach, you cried harder.

Sanji just held your head, carding fingers through your hair in comfort, offering you a handkerchief. That, you realised later, was the moment your feelings for Sanji began.

✿

After that day, you became a lot happier. Somehow, without words, just eating the food that Sanji made was enough to heal your broken heart bit by bit. Sometimes, he made extra because Luffy was curious and wanted to taste it too; and then the whole crew wanted it so Sanji made a few of your dishes for dinner. In that moment, surrounded by the smell of home, around your new family, your heart finally started healing.

You started noticing Sanji everywhere after you got used to life on the Thousand Sunny. From the small things he does, to the loud expressions of love he made, everything about him seemed wonderful and warm to you. Because you knew that beneath his overt affections for all the ladies, he was an infinitely kind, caring and observant person. How were you supposed to not fall for him, when he went above and beyond for you?

And yet, for all his admissions of love, you never believed that he could truly like you back like you felt for him. You were after all, not the prettiest girl around and you knew that. You were not slim like Nami or Robin, and it's not like you absolutely hated your soft and squishy body. But you wondered if Sanji would like you even though you weren't pretty.

All that self consciousness went out the window every time you were in his presence. He never made you feel less, or ugly– in fact, the way he spoke to you always left you a blushing mess. He made you feel special, and in the moment, it would be enough. Until you saw him fawning over Nami or Robin, and then the sneaky voice in your brain would whisper quiet thoughts comparing you to them. You had no chance with him, and you knew that.

And that was fine. You could live with that, couldn't you? You had to, because wanting more than you should never ended well. All it would leave behind is rejection, hurt and awkwardness. So you pressed down the feelings and acted as normally as you could.

The moment you realised that you loved Sanji was probably a memory you would never forget. Although it was unforgettable for you, it probably wasn't particularly that unique to others. That didn't matter to you because it was a memory you cherished ultimately.

It happened when the ship docked on a peaceful little island. Everyone else was going out to enjoy their time, and you wanted to spend that time with Sanji. So, casually, you made your request.

"Sanji?" Your timid utterance of his name got an instant reaction from the chef, who straightened up and looked at you with hearts in his eyes.

"Yes, (y/n)-chan?" He asked, tilting his head slightly.

"Um, you're gonna go grocery shopping, right?" You had seen Nami complaining while handing him the money for the shopping.

"That's right," he leaned closer, almost too close but not quite into your personal bubble. Still, the proximity was enough for you to smell the mild smell of his perfume that left you a little weak in the knees. "Did you want me to get something for you, sweetheart?"

"I just," you hesitated, suddenly scared that he might realise your feelings and get disgusted. No, Sanji wasn't like that, you had to remind yourself. He would never treat you unkindly, even if he knew your feelings. "I heard you always do it alone. I thought you might enjoy some company?"

The hearts in Sanji's eyes disappeared as he stared at you like you were speaking gibberish for a few seconds. Under the intensity of that stare, you fidgeted and waited for his response.

"You're too kind, (y/n)-chan!" He finally cried, holding up your hands in his own bigger and colder ones. You flushed at the action, stammering out an actual gibberish response this time before you were whisked away by the blonde chef to town.

It felt all too much like a date to you, when you walked next to him. Sanji somehow made grocery shopping fun, or maybe that was just because of how much you liked him that anything with him was enjoyable? It didn't matter, you decided, because whichever it was, you couldn't deny that Sanji was equivalent to the sun on a cold day.

He enthusiastically showed you around, as if you were a tourist and he were a guide (when in fact, it was the first time in this town for both of you) causing you to giggle. Whenever you stopped to buy things, he would humour your curious questions on how to pick which vegetable and what cuts of which meat are the best. It felt awfully like a domestic date, one that made you smile when you imagined doing this with Sanji years down the line every week.

"And that's the last of it!" Sanji said happily, picking up the last bag. He was holding all the bags since the start, despite your insistence and now you were anxious, seeing him hold so many bags in his hands.

"Sanji, let me hold a few," you tried again, hands reaching out to take some of them. But Sanji just turned around so you couldn't reach the bags and grinned down at you.

"Nonsense, how could I let such a delicate lady hold such heavy bags?" His words made you flush in embarrassment. You were not delicate in any sense; surely, Sanji knew that too. And in spite of all his sincerity, the word just felt like it was mocking you.

"I'm… not…," you struggled to say, not wanting to argue but unable to keep it in either. With your chubby frame, no one had ever considered you as delicate.

"Let me do this for you, my love," Sanji's voice was soft and infinitely gentle, as if he was indeed holding something fragile in his hands. "I wouldn't feel good letting you carry anything when I'm more than capable."

"But Sanji!" you lightly whined, wringing your hands. "I don't feel good letting you carry all the burden either! Come on, just a few bags?"

Before Sanji could respond, you heard a scared squeak. Your brows furrowed and you looked around the marketplace, finding a man cornering a girl a few feet behind Sanji. She seemed uncomfortable and he was all in her personal space, saying something in a rough, sleazy voice that gave you shivers.

You were not a fighter, but the instinct to protect her overtook the rational part of your brain and you crossed the distance to where they were. Pushing him back, you stood in front of the girl to block her from him.

"Can't you see she's uncomfortable?" You said coldly. "Back off."

The man took an involuntary step back until his eyes fell on you. He reeked of alcohol and smoke and you felt like puking from the putrid stench coming off him but you held it together, trying to come off as more confident than you felt. His eyes roamed over your body shamelessly, and you felt dirty and uncomfortable from the action.

"Don't get in our business, fatty," he grinned, the smell of alcohol doubling the moment he opened his mouth. "Are you jealous that no one will ever give you the attention she's getting?"

The words stabbed you in the gut, even though you knew rationally that you were better off without the bad attention. That was the one perk of being conventionally average in looks– no one really looked at you, in good ways or bad. Or maybe you had just been lucky so far. But hearing him call you that, saying those words, even from someone like him, it hurt a small part of you. Before you could respond, a leg in black slacks came up and kicked the man down with such a force that everybody around paused, shocked by the sudden action.

Even you stepped back automatically, gasping when you saw that it was Sanji, still balancing all the bags perfectly while he had roundhouse kicked the man into the ground with so much force that you could see his teeth had become bloody and he was on the verge of unconsciousness.

"(Y/n)-chan doesn't need the attention of sewer rats like you," he said calmly, straightening back into position smoothly. "Her beauty only deserves the best of the best."

The sight of Sanji saying that with a calm face, his hair slightly tousled, his hands balancing the bags and his leg muscles rippling under the slacks – that image was imprinted in your heart and brain for the rest of your life. The words sent you into a shock, but when they finally processed, you couldn't deny the overwhelming realisation that crashed into you.

You love Sanji.

It wasn't just a silly crush, or something that could go away if you gave it time. The chef had unknowingly carved himself a place into your heart. He was taking over it, chamber by chamber.

"Sanji…" The word came out as a whisper, inaudible under the din of the market as people were talking about what was going on. You snapped out of it when you felt the girl behind you shuffle and you immediately squashed your thoughts down to examine them later. You turned around and asked her, "Are you okay?"

She looked very alarmed and upset, but she still shot you a grateful smile as she murmured, "Yes, thanks to you two."

"He didn't hurt you?" You asked, hands hovering over her as you looked to ensure if she was safe. A peek of crimson caught your eye when she raised her hand to rub her face. Her elbows had scraped against the rough brick wall in his tousling. "You have some scratches!"

"Oh," she turned her arms to look at the wounds, now feeling the burn after the adrenaline and fear response was receding.

"Come on, I'll treat it for you," you offered, opening your sling bag which had some emergency first aid. You usually carried it around for the members when you were off the ship, knowing that they were all too reckless to give a second thought to any wounds.

"Oh, no, no, I couldn't trouble you more!" She said, mortified but you gently shook your head, offering her a hand.

"It's no trouble," you reassured her. It took a little bit of convincing but she eventually calmed down and let you clean up the wound before you parted. Finally, you allowed yourself to look at Sanji, who immediately schooled his features so you wouldn't see the warm adoring look he was giving you the whole time. "Sanji… Are you okay too? You didn't hurt yourself, did you?"

"Do you think I'm that weak, sweetheart?" He smiled teasingly, but you felt the need to defend yourself.

"I know you are strong," you insisted, worrying your lower lip as you tried to look him straight in the eyes but kept getting flustered. "But even strong people get wounds. Just because they are strong, doesn't mean that they don't feel the pain. So tell me honestly, Sanji. Are you hurt anywhere?'

"No," he promised. "But if you're that worried, I'll let you check me all out back on the ship."

He ended that with a wink, and this time, you couldn't hold back the flush threatening to overtake your face again. Sanji couldn't help making the mood light again, but he had no idea of the effect his words had on you.

"Stupid," you weakly pawed at his arm, walking away before he could say anything. The blonde chef just laughed and followed you, face once again soft and fond as he watched you.

✿

Sanji may have been one of the only people onboard who was oblivious to your feelings, because a few of them did figure it out after watching the way you interacted with him. The first ones to realise were Nami and Robin, who called you out on it when the three of you were lying under the shade on the sunny deck.

"Really?" Nami had scrunched her nose, eyes critically analysing Sanji as he walked (danced, really) back to the kitchens after serving drinks to the three of you.

"Really what?" You asked, too busy sipping the cool drink to notice that she had noticed the way you had warmly thanked Sanji and given him a bright smile.

"Sanji?" Nami gave you a pointed look. The name made you freeze, and you tried to play it off.

"What about him?"

"Oh, come on!" Nami threw the slice of lemon that was on her drink. You caught it before it could fall on your shirt and muttered an indignant 'hey!' that the navigator ignored. "You like him, don't you?"

The words were enough to make you hide your face in embarrassment. Robin was smiling knowingly from the other side of Nami and you felt exposed, like they had both just turned you inside out.

"I do," you whispered after the few minutes of silent mortification that Nami had spent in self satisfaction.

"Why that loser though?" She said without any real bite. You knew she wasn't actually demeaning him; it was affectionate, in the way one would talk about their sibling's lovelife.

"Because!" You whispered, eyes running everywhere to check if no one else was around to hear you. "Have you looked at him? He's literally so pretty! He is kind, caring, and so, so thoughtful and generous. Without expecting anything in return, he is always giving and giving and he makes my stomach do silly things. He has curly eyebrows, Nami! I didn't think those could look good on anyone. Hell, I know I would look ugly with them, but he makes it work! It suits him, and he's so beautiful and I'm just–"

You collapsed onto your chair, your wet fingers from the condensation on the drink glass finding purchase in the dips of your face to hide it. Just talking about him was enough to get your heart beating fast, and the mortification of what you had just spilled to the two girls made you want the ground to swallow you already.

"You really like him," Robin's soft observation made you relax. She wasn't teasing you. You turned to look at her and caught the comforting smile she was sending your way.

"I was going to say you could do better," Nami turned to face you, swinging her feet around to your side, "but after hearing all that, I think… You two are perfect for each other. Despite all his antics, he has a good heart. And you'll be good for him, because you see him as he is."

"Yeah?" You couldn't help the small flower of hope blossoming in your chest.

"Really," Nami smiled, a rare genuine smile that was usually reserved for late night talks and reassurances in down times.

"You don't think…." You trailed off, fidgeting with the hem of your top, "he won't… find me good enough?"

"Are you crazy?" Nami snorted, picking up her drink. The melted ice had made the level go up so much that it was threatening to spill any moment. "You're better than anything he could dream of. I told you, didn't I? You would be good for him. Having someone like you in his life to ground him, I think there's nothing better than that. You're one of the sweetest people I have ever met. If anyone here isn't good enough, it's him."

"Hey now," you frowned, ready to defend Sanji but hearing his voice stopped you.

"Who isn't good enough for (y/n)-chan?" His face was stuck in a weird smile, like he was forcing it. He carefully placed the plate of pastries he had brought as he continued casually despite the silence, "I don't know who we are talking about but Nami-chan is right. No one is good enough for our lovely (y/n)-chan."

"Oh, look at that!" You hurriedly switched the topic, looking at the plate he had brought. The tiny pastries were adorable and colourful, looking so delicious that it would have made your mouth water if you weren't distracted at the moment. "This looks so good, Sanji. Seriously, if you keep feeding me like this, my weight will keep increasing!"

The last line became a teasing complaint, but you didn't expect Sanji to come to the side of your chair and lean down to where you were tilted. The proximity caused your eyes to widen, the blood thundering in your ears as he carefully tucked in a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, face so soft and warm that it make your insides feel like they were vibrating.

"All the more for me to love, so I would keep winning, wouldn't I, sweetheart?"

You choked, and the need to get away from him before you did something wild like grab him and kiss him got so much that your knee accidentally shot up and into Sanji's back, pushing him forward. The chef's eyes widened at the sudden attack, but he managed to not collapse on you by quickly holding onto the sides of the chair but now you were trapped in between his arms on top of the close proximity.

It made you so weak in the knees, and there was something hot and warm curling in your gut as you stammered gibberish, feeling like you were about to faint because Sanji's chest was practically touching yours and it was all too much.

"SORRY!" He hurriedly backed off the moment he got his bearings, and for the first time since you had come onboard, you saw him have a genuinely heavily flushed face. There was a little blood starting to leak from one of his nostrils and somehow, it helped you calm down. He was just as affected as you were. The idea was enough to lessen your embarrassment by a little.

"I'm the one who's sorry, Sanji," you said remorsefully, hiding your face completely in your hands this time. "I kicked you!"

"It wasn't on purpose," he said, right hand coming up to hide the blush on his own face. "I'm sorry for… for making you uncomfortable, (y/n)-chan!"

Uncomfortable? Did Sanji have any clue just how comfortable you actually felt? The problem wasn't that you were uncomfortable in the proximity; it was that you were too comfortable, to the point that you never wanted to leave. But that would be a dead giveaway of your feelings, right?

"Okay, this is just painful to watch now," Nami sighed, jolting the two of you. You had nearly forgotten that she and Robin were right there, and they had seen everything. She looked at you unhappily, mouth set in a tight line. "How about you two get a room and make out there?"

"Nami!" You cried out. She really just gave away your crush like that?!

"Just be grateful I'm not demanding money to make up for what I just had to witness," she sniffed haughtily, swinging her legs back onto the chair and pulling down her sunglasses. "Seriously, you two, go talk shit out. Or else, knowing you, you will just be awkward around each other and that's gonna be even more painful to watch."

She wasn't totally wrong. You were planning to avoid him, possibly by jumping off the Sunny and drowning to death since you didn't know how to swim. But that wasn't really a solution and even you could admit that.

"W- What's there to talk-?" Sanji seemed a little scared, wide eyes glancing between the three of you. Nami ignored him, and you were too flustered to look him in the eyes. Nami's suggestion was essentially for you to come clean, wasn't it? But that was easier said than done. The fear of rejection and the eventual awkwardness was gripping your insides in a chokehold, and you couldn't move your feet even if you tried.

"Sanji," Robin said calmly. "Pick up (y/n) and go to the kitchen."

"Huh?" You were startled at her words. Pick you up?! No way! "No, no way, I'm too… I'm too heavy, there's no need for that!" Even as you said that, you couldn't actually bring yourself to move.

"I don't really get it," Sanji admitted, looking between the three of you as he spoke, "but I can do that. (Y/n)-chan?"

"No, Sanji–" the protests died down the moment he bent down and picked you up like you weighed nothing. Even as he walked you across the deck, you couldn't help but think that it was kind of hot just how easily he picked you up. "Sanji…"

He didn't look at you until you were in the kitchen and the door was closed behind the two of you. He walked over to the table and then carefully placed you on it, as if you were a teacup made of fine china teetering with tea. Finally, he let his clear blue eyes stare down at you, the expression on his face more vulnerable and exposed than you had ever seen on him.

"Sanji?"

"I know I made you uncomfortable," he said quietly, backing away. His hands came up to rub away the blood but it only made it spread around and you winced at seeing that. You never wanted to see any blood on Sanji, if you could help it. "I touched your… you. It wasn't my intention, I swear! I just, I wanted, I–"

He abruptly shut up, looking frustrated with himself.

"Sanji."

He didn't look up, fists clenching at his side the moment you said his name.

"Come here, Sanji," you whispered, holding out your hands to beckon him closer. His eyes flickered over your face, as if trying to gauge out what you were feeling, even as he followed through your request without a second thought. You pulled out the handkerchief he had given you long back, and wiped away the blood over his upper lip and cheeks carefully before you picked up his hand. The thumb was bloody too, so you gently held the limb in one of your hands and wiped it with the other. "You didn't make me uncomfortable, Sanji."

He stayed quiet as you continued to wipe it until it was all gone.

"Didn't I?" He said the moment you were done.

"No," you said, looking up at him. You didn't let go of the hand, though you dropped the handkerchief beside you. Somehow, holding his hand seemed to give you the courage to make the admission Nami had told you to. "I… Sanji, I like you. A lot more than I ever thought it was possible to feel towards someone. I like you so much that it physically hurts when I see you flirting with other women. I like you so much that my heart feels warm whenever you are around, and I feel so safe in your arms that I never want to leave. I like it when you are close to me. But I know that you don't like me like that, so whenever you get so close, and I can't help but want you so much, it's painful for me. I never want to let you go."

Sanji's eyes darkened with every word you spoke, a gradual change that you didn't notice at first because you were all in over your head. His hands hovered around your waist as you finished.

"Who told you?" His voice was a little hoarse, and he cleared his throat the moment he realised how desperate he sounded.

"Told me what?" You asked timidly, looking down at your lap.

"That I don't like you?" Sanji's voice was a broken whisper like yours had been. "I have never heard anything more untrue than that. All this time, I wanted you but I kept my feelings to myself. Because you deserve so much, so much more than I am, so much more than I can give. I wanted and I wanted and I felt so greedy, wanting more and more of you, more than you would let me have– I wanted anything you were ready to give, and I also wanted everything you have to give. I thought you wouldn't want someone like me, when there are so many better options around for you–"

"What?" You couldn't help but laugh. All his words were making you delirious; this had to be some wild dream you had conjured up. It didn't feel real. None of it did. "I had better options around? Sanji, I was so sure you would never look twice at me! I never felt like I was pretty enough, or good enough to get your attention and you're telling me… I had better options? That's so–"

You kept laughing, body shaking from the weight of the laughter. Sanji stared at you, unsure hands still hovering around you. His fingers twitched from holding back the urge to pull you into him.

"You are the prettiest girl I have ever seen," he mumbled. "Not good enough to get my attention? Darling, you have had all of my attention ever since I met you. No other woman could compare to you from the moment you made your place in my heart known."

"Did I really have all your attention?" You asked, letting your insecurities bubble up. Now that you were both being honest, it was better to get it all out of the way, right? "Even when you looked at the other women…"

"I never looked at them the way I did you," his words were sincere, and in that moment, they were enough. You looked up at him, and your body broke into shivers the moment you realised the heat in his eyes as he stared down at you; like you were some unique dish he was finally getting the chance to eat after years of craving it.

"I didn't want the other options, Sanji," you whispered, the volume enough for the proximity you were in. "The only one I ever wanted was you."

You held his collars and pulled him in, and it was like he finally snapped, now that he had permission. His hands immediately grasped at your sides, gently holding the soft flesh there as he kissed you. And now it was your time to give and give, while he took from you like your lips were spilling with ambrosia and he was determined to get every drop. His warm breath fanned over your lips and the goosebumps on your skin rose again, your fingers tightening around the collars of his shirt.

When he let your lips go, he was greeted with the sight of your flushed and pleasantly buzzed expression, like you were drunk on him. Seeing you like that, because of him, it was enough to get him groaning.

"So beautiful," he whispered, leaving feather light kisses all over your face. "So gorgeous. All for me. All… for me to have?"

"Yeah," you whispered, looking up at him and seeing the devastated yet over-the-moon expression on Sanji's face. Even without words, he could always just cleave into your heart and press himself within its walls like they were made to fit him, and only him. "You can be greedy. Take all you want. I'm all yours."

°•❀•°

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Judy Garland (Meet Me In St. Louis, A Star is Born, Summer Stock)— Judy is the GOAT when it comes to classic movie musicals. The voice of an angel who deserved so much better than she got. She can sing she can dance she can act she's a triple threat. Though she had a turbulent personal life (her treatment as a child star by the studio system makes me mad as hell like Louis b Mayer fight me ((she was made to believe that she was physically unattractive by the constant criticism of film executives who made her feel ugly and who manipulated her onscreen appearance by capping her teeth and using discs in her nose to change its shape and Mayer called her "my little hunchback" like imagine hearing that as a child and not having damage)) she always goddamn delivered on screen and in any performance she gave. She began in vaudeville performing with her sisters and was signed to MGM at 13. Starting out in supporting parts especially paired with mickey Rooney in a bunch of films (she's the best part tbh) she eventually transferred to the lead role. She is best known for her starring role in movie musicals like the iconic Wizard of Oz (somewhere over the rainbow still hits hard and is ranked the top film song of all time), meet me in St. Louis (Judy singing have your self a merry little Christmas brings tears to the eyes she is that powerful), the Harvey girls (she looks like a technicolor dream and sings a catchy af song about trains), Easter parade ( dancing and singing with Fred Astaire), for me and my gal, the pirate, and summer stock ( with pal Gene Kelly who she helped when he was starting out and he helped her when she was struggling). But she also does non- singing just as well like the clock ( her first movie where she sings no songs and is an underrated ww2 era romance), her Oscar nominated a star is born ( like the man that got away she put her whole soul in that and I have beef with the fact she lost to grace kelly ((whom I love but like still not even her best work)), and judgement at Nuremberg (a courtroom drama about the nazi war criminal trials). Outside of film she made concert appearances to record-breaking audiences, released 8 studio albums, and had her own Emmy-nominated tv series. She was the youngest (39) and first female recipient of the Cecil B DeMille award for lifetime achievement in the film industry. Girl was a lifelong democrat and was a financial and moral supporter of many causes including the civil rights movement (she was at the March on Washington and held a press conference to protest the 16th street Baptist church bombings). She was a friend of the Kennedy family and would call jfk weekly often ending the calls by singing the first few lines of somewhere over the rainbow (she thought of them as Gemini twins).She was a member of the committee for the first amendment which was formed in response to the HUAC investigations. Though she died far too young and tragically she remains an icon for her work and her life. As a girl who didn't feel like i was as pretty as everyone else I have always felt a connection to Judy and I just really love her.

Natalie Wood (West Side Story, The Great Race)—She went through so much shit which I know can be said for all these women but Natalie really was a star and her death often overshadows her career and life. She could make you cry, but she also had the capacity to be incredibly funny which I think is lost on people.

This is round 4 of the tournament. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Natalie Wood:

Judy Garland:

Judy's voice alone qualifies her for at least top ten hottest HOT VINTAGE MOVIE WOMEN. She was a truly incredible swing singer, with a stunning voice on top of her technique. Her short dark hair looked incredible in just about any style. Have I mentioned her swagger? I can’t do it justice with words. She had swagger. She was funny as hell, and clever too. Incredibly charming and cool. I adore her.

Her eyes, her voice have bewitched me

I mean how can you beat the one and only Judy? She's beautiful, her smile is contagious, the way she sings with her whole body. You can't help but love her.

Beautiful woman, love her singing voice. And she can do everything between happy or silly and angry or heartbroken

[elliesdoll]

pt.2 to my angsty loser!ellie drabble 𝜗𝜚

nsfw! ellie gets caught and that’s literally it. i hate this so bad but it’s whateva

(part 3 will have lesbian gay lesbian boob vagina butt sex i promise. no more ellie masturbating)

find pt.1 here! & pt.3 here :3

daily click! don’t buy tlou free palestine

after ellie’s pathetic masturbation sesh, she vowed to herself to fucking pull it together.

she wasn’t gonna let herself mope over you, because she knew you had an active sex life. she forced herself to be fine with it. to be fine with the people you decided to bring to your bed. she wanted to be near you without feeling this suffocating feeling of yearning and lust filling her insides.

and if that meant tucking her feelings to the deepest pits of hell, then so fucking be it.

a few weeks had passed since that little moment you and ellie had. the one where she had showed up to your house in the middle of you hooking up with someone.

the morning after, she has awoken to a string of texts from you, all apologizing for that awkward moment.

11:34pm

ellie i’m so sorry you had to see me like that. i didn’t mean to come off rude.

i wanted to go after you but i couldn’t really leave her alone in my house lol

els?

i’m really sorry. i hope u don’t think you can’t come to my house ever again ☹️ i actually thought it was sweet you showed up like that.

2:12am

goodnight ellie. i hope things aren’t awkward between us.

god, you made her feel awful. you were too fucking sweet to her. the way you never missed a single night when telling her goodnight, even after something like that. she rubbed her swollen face, mainly from crying, and typed a short message to you.

9:47am

hey, sorry for rushing away like that. idk why i did that lmfao

and things aren’t awkward at all, i shouldn’t have just showed up unnanounced

no els seriously! you should do that more often. tbh i wanted to hang out with you more than that girl… but yk i couldn’t 💔💔

she smiled at your kind text, glad that you two could just put it behind yourselves. her moment of relief was quickly replaced by disgust, when she saw the state of herself and her bed. her inner thighs sticky with dried cum, and her sheets below her still damp with all the extra release.

“gross..” she mumbled to herself, getting up and immediately throwing on some boxers and a tshirt, feeling way too vulnerable being naked like that. she went to the bathroom and cleaned herself up, then threw her sheets in the wash.

since then, you two have been fine. you do your weekly hangout sessions, where you grab food and talk about anything for hours on end. it’s almost as if nothing happened.

until one of your sleepovers.

you always convinced ellie to spend the night at your house, at least every other week. whenever it’d get dark outside and ellie would start to get up, you’d give her that irresistible pout and “ughhh, c’mon els.. just spend the night. it’s too dark out for you to go home.”

and every damn time, she agreed. how could she ever say no to you?

one night, you and ellie are high out of your minds, talking about god knows what. all giggly and soft, you two exchange jokes and stories that really make no sense. but, to you two, it’s the funniest thing in the world. after a laughing fit between the two of you, you wipe your tears and sigh.

“god, i love you.”

you say, still catching your breath from that tummy tensing laugh. the words were just an expression of admiration for her. but to ellie, they were so much more.

“i love you too.”

she says, looking you in the eyes. she’s high, so she’s not thinking too hard about how sincere she sounds. but she really should’ve, because that soft tone of her voice and the glint in her eyes make it sound way too fucking real.

“woah,” you let out a nervous, breathy chuckle. “that was a bit theatrical.”

“wh..what do you mean?”

ellie asks, getting a bit nervous. she’s not her usual, stuttery self though. she keeps it together. thanks to the weed.

“just the way you said i love you. it felt like… deep.”

you move your hands as you talk, and ellie just shrugs. but she knows she’s fucked. before she could stop her feelings from resurfacing, she gets that familiar tingle in her belly and pounding of her heart.

“shut up,” she rolls her eyes, trying to play it off.“you’re dramatic.”

her voice wavered with those last words. fuck, her voice wavered. why did she feel like she was gonna have a breakdown any second now? she had to get the hell away from you.

“gotta piss. be back in a bit.”

ellie says quickly, so quick you don’t even have time to retort to her calling you dramatic. you just sit there, confused. you could’ve sworn you heard some uncertainty in her voice, but you let her go.

meanwhile, ellie made a beeline for your bathroom. she shut the door and leaned her head against the wood. she let out a deep sigh, trying to calm herself. the fact that she felt the most intense feeling that she couldn’t even describe over a mere “i love you” had her cringing.

she just couldn’t get over you. the entire night, she tried her best not to think about how good your tits looked in your pajama top, or how badly she wanted to just shove her face into your ass in those little shorts.

her thinking over these details led to the predicament that she’s in right now. sweatpants around her knees, legs slightly spread as she rubs one out while leaned up against your bathroom sink. her eyes are shut and her head is thrown back, letting out the quietist grunts she could muster.

she knew she shouldn’t be doing this, she promised herself that she would stop. but god, you made it hard. she was so wet, it made her cheeks flush red. the simple thought of you had her literally dripping around her own fingers.

you were still in your room, biting your thumbnail as you wait for ellie. you start to get worried, thinking you made her upset by commenting on how she said ‘i love you’. so, you being the thoughtful friend you are, go to check on her.

you quietly walk to the bathroom, putting your ear against the door. you were going to knock and mutter a little “els? are you okay?”, but the sounds you heard made you lose all the words in your mouth.

soft, sharp inhales and tiny sticky noises is all you can hear through the door. it’s a bit hard to listen to, since the soft buzz of the yellow light in there overpowers it. what the hell is she doing in there?

you knew this was wrong. an invasion of privacy to the max. but your curiosity was getting the better of you, and you were worried. you put your hand on the doorknob and slightly twisted it, not expecting it to open. but it did.

did ellie forget to lock the door?

ellie doesn’t hear the soft click of the door opening, too lost in her own pleasure as she practically humps her own hand. it had been too fucking long since she could touch herself to the thought of you. her only guilty pleasure.

her head was still thrown back, eyes squeezed shut as she rubbed her clit at a shockingly fast pace. and you saw it all. you had opening the door just enough for half of your face to see through the opened crack. your whole body froze at the sight in front of you.

she was so captivating. her face looking all fucked out, her pale thighs that were so tensed up, the shininess of her slick that smeared on the heel of her palm. even the quick glimpses of her gorgeous auburn bush that you could see if her hoodie rode up enough.

your tummy felt weird. first, you felt guilty for eavesdropping on your best friend. second, you were confused why the fuck ellie decided now would be the best time to masturbate. third, you were turned on. disgustingly turned on, at that.

a few seconds of watching ellie made your panties get all sticky and wet, and that burning hot feeling in your lower belly. you couldn’t look away.

“ohh, fuck— please,”

your brain short circuited hearing ellie say that. god, she was so lost in her own pleasure. so lost that she accidentally knocked over your toothbrush and hand soap on the sink, causing her to jolt and snap her eyes open.

she looks down at the bottle of soap and toothbrush that landed in front of the bathroom door. the door that’s cracked. her eyes shoot up, and there’s where she sees a glimpse of you running away. a quick flash, but she knew it was you.

she is so fucked.

I HATE RHISNSO BAD RRRR😡

btw i finished this literally like 3 days ago and didn’t wanna post it hut i did anyway ☺️☺️

[nouvellevqgue]

IS IT TOO LATE NOW?

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

summary: the slip up and the gossip was a problem enough, but what if the situation is more complicated than you imagine it would be? or is it?

warning: slight hate comments from internet, paparazzi, break ups, complicated storyline, timeline inaccuracies, not even me understand about what is happening here.

a/n: this ended up going a bit too short with too little drama, but anyway, i hope you all enjoyed it!

taglist: @ushygushybaby @iamahallucinationnn @1655clean

₊˚⊹౨ৎ ⋆｡✦˚‎

popcrave

popcrave singer y/n l/n is reportedly breaking up with actor louis partridge after a year of relationship. the sun reported that they were breaking up peacefully and still remain friends even after their lost of love relationship.

liked by username, username, and 73,280 others

view comments...

username NOOOOO MOTHER AND FATHER ARE SEPARATEDDDD

username it's definitely because of that charles guy

username louis pls upload her cat or dog BC I CAN'T GO ON LIKE THIS ANY LONGER

username and you believe the sun as your source? don't be ridiculous, everyone knows that the sun was always spread lies

username one year full of fun 😞💔

username or full of gossips of annoying f1 fans

username who the charles man is?

username how dare the f1 fandom do them like that

username why am i feeling that the driver is the one who steal her from him?

⤷ username because he is

username i refuse to believe this

username it must because of the news in one of the gossip accounts of f1 drivers gf

username yeah i mean they can fix this, but not with break up

username they're literally so lovesick with each other...

username charles is literally has a gf, he's not gonna get with her bcs she is so far from his standard

⤷ username she is everybody's standard, ain't no way that he wouldn't date her

username remain friends meaning that she would write the most heartbreaking songs for him

username peacefully your ass when in fact that they still love each other deeply but living with the gossips bother them

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, louispartridge, and 432,618 others

yourusername watch me turn into a vampire in a matter of second

view comments...

username yeah bc you are the vampire

username traitor pt 2? or else bcs we got sour in a whole thing

username her new mv or....

louispartridge looks like ramy

⤷ yourusername at least he cooks good then idc🤷🏻‍♀️

username when i see louisy/n interaction now but they're not together anymore is quite sad tbh

⤷ username after the kiss i think it's her new thing

⤷ username but i'm convinced with the gossip

username like just be fr he's been targeting after her for a long while until she's finally breaking up with him

⤷ username okay but is he even breaking up with his girlfriend like she did too? too bad that he's not

⤷ username i think someday bcs i think alexandra is too good for him

username you see her history???💀💀

⤷ username she's a childdd

⤷ username y/n and alex's age gap is just a year tho💀

⤷ username at least she is successful and not a nepo baby🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

username i hate when i said i converted from louisy/n to chary/n stan💔💔

username just look how fast she moved on from lou

⤷ username they remain friends though, at least there ain't no war between them

username it's sad how louis is always had this kind of a girl who just want his fame

⤷ username mind you both of them are successful and unlike you who just sit in your dad's basement eating chips

⤷ username easy no need to bomb them with truth

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

f1wagsupdate

liked by username, maxverstappen1, and 78,622 others

f1wagsupdate charles leclerc and his girlfriend, is reportedly confirming their break-up in their recent photo taken around in his apartment in monaco today. according to the fans who saw them, they were taking a walk together towards the building before charles is accompany her to her place, which leading to the news of their break up.

view comments...

username not surprising tbh

username after a thousands likes on y/n pic on insta, we had finally got our time

username y/n and charles is real‼️‼️

username WHAT IS MAX DOING HERE?😭😭

⤷ username probably celebrating his girlfriend's break up news?

username LESTAPPEN NATION WHAT ARE WE FEELING NOW‼️‼️🔥 🗣️ 🗣️ 🔥 🗣️ 🔥 🔥 ❓❓❓

username max liking this post is my mood for today bc he too is so invested with this whole thing (same)

username surprised but nothing so surprising abt this

username IT'S CONFIRMED Y'ALL

username feeling bad for alex but also celebrating our victory yassss

username idek if i should be sad or happy rn

username CHARY/N NATION CHEER‼️🔥‼️‼️🔥🔥🍷🍾🍾

username istg i manifested this to happen

⤷ username y'all r praying for them to break up? what is wrong w u?

username i think even a strongest soldier is tired of this whole fucked-upiness😞😞

username my god respect their privacy

⤷ username it's paparazzi, what are you gonna do if they were there

username let this break up moment be peaceful, not with y'all's celebrations

username i hate to say that i'm glad that she broke up w him, bc i'm tired of seeing him getting shipped with another girl

username i think y/n and alex are friends right?

⤷ username maybe, bcs nobody knows their friendship relation🤷‍♀️

username i can see her tired face bc she had enough

⤷ username i'm tired too tho💀

username poor alex, but i love chary/n

username after a long while i think charles rlly belong to y/n bcs duh

username if i were her, i'll be booking a plane ticket to maldives and forgetting all of this year's silly season and gossips

username i can't wait to hear y/n's new single about this whole shitty ass love square

enews

liked by louispartridge, username, and 172,380 others

enews 🎺🎺🎺 LOVE IS IN THE AIR!!

singer y/n l/n is seen ‘so deeply in-love’ with her new boyfriend as they were kissing in the middle of the busy night street in italy. this also lead to their confirmation of the relationship between y/n and charles.

view comments...

username louis liked this...

⤷ username apparently they were good staying as a bestie

username her little ponytail making me snort so loud💀💀

username why is he becoming max with the undetachable hat

⤷ username f1 drivers cons >>>

username CHARY/N FAM WHAT ARE WE FEELING NOW ⁉️❓❓🔥🔥🔥😍

⤷ username victory? yes

username i hope shes not gonna make a crazy rock song for him when they break up

⤷ yourusername am i that easy to guess?

⤷ username yes you are

username let's take a look at twitter and smell at the fresh tea served on the table

username he's secretly celebrating his victory

username should we thank joris?

username i love them i hope both louis and alexandra could be together next time

⤷ username girl wym💀💀💀💀

⤷ username anything is possible though

username they looks so good tgt aww

username aw even if it's cute, i still don't understand the concept of kissing your partner in the middle of the street

⤷ username that's called a sudden urge to make out even if it's just a tiny (🤏) bit.

charles_leclerc added to their story!

caption: is it too late to say you're mine now?

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 491,649 others

yourusername comfiest one to hold.

view comments...

username HOLY PIECE OF SHIT IT'S HAPPENING

username YEEEEAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH

username omg i love your new added accessories to your neck, hips, and arm.

username i will pass out

username parents>>>

charles_leclerc 😚😚😚

username hard launch hard launch hard launch

comments on this post has been limited

yourusername added to their story!

caption: the photographer is my ra-men😋🍜

Y/N'S DIRECT MESSAGE

landonorris replied to your story!

: that is a bad one

yourusername

: i know but let me have this one in peace

landonorris

: simp

charles_leclerc added to their story!

caption: je vais t'aimer pour toujours mon petit chou🥬😚

CHARLES'S DIRECT MESSAGE

yourusername replied to your story!

: why r u calling me a cabbage?

charles_leclerc

: remind me of your green jacket

: looks something like a cabbage

yourusername

: why not something like brocolli or apple?

charles_leclerc

: mon brocoli? or ma pomme?

yourusername

: ma pomme is better

charles_leclerc

: you're still my favourite chou of all time❤️

yourusername

: my favourite chou is silly

: but i love you too💗🥹

: my frenchman<3

charles_leclerc

: say that word again or i'll block you

yourusername added to their story!

caption: ❤️

INTERVIEW WITH EMMA CHAMBERLAIN

[deadghosy]

HAZBIN HOTEL X CAELUS! READER

prompt: you were found digging in their trash and they took you in

(I got covid😭 so me posting xreader will be kinda slow)

You were digging for some food ever since you fell from heaven because you kept fighting people over trash…I mean damn reader…

You fell with a blank look as you had a rotten banana in your mouth as you looked down to see pentagram city…so what did you do? You pulled out your fire sword and slash the ground to soften your fall which worked. You changed it to a bat for protection as you found a dumpster!

CHA-CHING✨ MORE TRASHHHH

You dig in the dumpster not hearing a person whistling. The person dropped the garbage bag shocked to see a….? Whatever you are digging in the dumpster. Your face was completely dirty as you lift it up to show you found a cool old watch.

Charlie didn’t know what to do. Are you homeless? Is what she thought as she takes you out the garbage as you blankly stare at her “•_•” “uhm sweetie are you okay?” “……” “not much of a talker huh…” you just stayed quiet as Charlie introduced herself and shook your hand bringing you to the hotel so you can have a place to stay.

I feel like you were a new angel and only stayed for like 1 month…(free trial ass shit…) and so when you didn’t act holy and proper. That’s why you mostly got kicked out

Vaggie will know you are an angel because of your angelic look and golden eyes as you just stand there minding your business. You tell her you fell because you fought over your treasure….your trash practically. So Vaggie tells you what happened to her and you hugged her making her feel safe about herself a bit.

You two have matching bracelets you made from an exercise Charlie did.

Okay I headcannon that Lucifer is already in the hotel living with his daughter. And he felt your presence and he would be like. “Fuck are you doing here”🤨 “I fought for my life.”

Vox one time put you on air with him because of your golden shining eyes….i think he was flirting with you as you ate some gift cookies he made for you…

Velvette tried to make you a model, but you kept wandering off somehow. Literally she got tired of you but never of your face as she at least posted you wearing some nice 2000 makeup

Carmilla had a gut feeling about you being an angel. She wanted to kill you but then you gave her a ring you found in a dumpster because you said she reminded you of your earth mother/parent. Yeah she wanted to adopt you

You help sir Pentious, or who you call penny for his project builds. You dig in dumpster’s, trash bins, and garbage dumps

Angel dust and you sometimes just be on your phones all the time which is obnoxious. But hey, I don’t make the rules. Being on your phone makes it seem like you don’t want to be talked to which is true.

Lucifer made you a duck as he notciced how lonely you are….(you don’t give a fuck, you only need trash as your friends) so Lucifer made you 20 ducks that are based on your favorite things or like idk just ducks

The egg boiz follow you around as you literally calling you the, “TRASH BOSS!” Not in a bad way more like in admiration as you give them stuff from the garbage.

Your golden eyes shining in the night scaring husk as he didn’t even see you in his hind sight. Like he is a cat, but he didn’t even see you?!

You and alastor’s both eat weird things, like he is a cannibal….and for you..either trash or just normal weird food combos

Alastor would definitely try to get you to eat cannibal meat, but to be honest you can tell the difference between human and regular meat. You always know.

Niffty is the kind of person who would give you a trash flower crown, kinda like how she made a crown for Alastor ✨🦆

I headcannon your angelic/demon form to be a raccoon 💀

You send dumbass memes in the hazbin hotel gc…

You are quite the feral person tbh, but who didn’t know when you literally fought people for your damn trash.

You definitely had bit Valentino once as Angel dust brought you to a club and you were digging in trash to find something cool. But Valentino found you adorable in the face and wanted to make you a sex worker. And what did you do when he tried to hurt Angel?

YOU BIT HIS FUCKIN HAND ALMOST OFF AS ANGEL WAS TRYING TO PULL YOU OFF😭

Yeah..you definitely had blood dripping from your mouth when Angel dragged you out of the club