#woke up from throat? ear? pain and BOY am i pissed again

[barbietoiles]

Yuri qtubbo save me......... Save me yuri qtubbo........

[hopeless-ro-simptic]

Familiar Cerulean Eyes Pt. 4

Click here for other parts. Part 5 

Warning: This shit gets intense. Not smut but like character almost dies. Be prepared. Dabi’s alpha really comes out in this one. He angry boi. 

Word Count: Just under 2.5 K 

Taglist:  @skzero-99 @superblyspeedydragon @jparra4587 @flyingowls @emrysaaryn @imuziawi @sheedaabee @peculiarinsomniac @littlelovebug98 @plutoneu @giftofwonder @kitty-kat-ash @fukyouthink @anarchys-bnha-mess @threbony @orenjineki @toobsessedsstuff @bamf-barnes

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You woke up from your nap, your neck stiff, to the annoying sound of Dabi’s phone going off for what you were pretty sure was the third time in five minutes. Whoever was trying to contact him really wanted his attention, and he wasn’t giving it to them.

Instead you watched with wide eyes as the annoyed villain gave another meaning to burner phone, watching the melting plastic drip onto the floor, holding it from the top of the phone so not to get the melted plastic on himself. He was sitting up on the bed and looked absolutely done with whatever was going on with that phone. Running his hands over his face pulling his skin with a deep sigh before he noticed you watching, replacing his expression with a smirk as he pulled out a cigarette lighting it with his finger and placing it between his lips before leaning back against his forearms.

“Good morning, Princess. Well I guess I should say good night.” The shadows on his face being exaggerated by the lamp next to his bed by his cigarette tray. He was just in an old tattered wife beater at this point, the hoodie piled up on the corner of his bed like he was using it as a pillow. It was only then that you noticed his singular pillow was tucked between you and the armrest of the chair you were in, and the furry blanket draped across your body. You could help but sniff it, shocked that it smelled brand new and unscented. For some reason you pouted at that. Which he didn’t miss.

“H- ahem… How long was I out?” You’re throat was dry making your voice scratchy and you were silently grateful when he reached out to you, handing you an unopened water bottle.

He hummed thoughtfully to himself glancing at the window, blowing out a puff of smoke that started to collect in the air. “Maybe five hours? I tried to get you to move to the bed and stretch out but you’re pretty mean when you’re asleep”  

“I’ve been told that before,” You stood up out of the chair, letting yourself stretch out and folding the blanket up neatly on the chair, pretending like you didn’t care about it, the butterflies erupting in your stomach. You could feel the eyes of the alpha in front of you drag along your body, slowly taking in what was before him. There was nothing you could do to stop him, and after your nap your omega was starting to wake up and was enjoying the stares for once. It did feel kind of nice that someone thought of you like that, like you were something worth looking at. You tried not to dwell on it. Instead you located the snack bag, riffling through it to locate something to eat, the alpha next to you as he continued to puff smoke out like an angry dragon, making lazy circles in the air.

Finally, after some deliberation, you picked out a candy bar, turning and leaning against the dresser facing the door and opening it. Your stomach ready for food, your foggy brain, however, was not prepared for the door in front of you to collapse suddenly in ash, the number one villain in Japan standing behind it, five fingers up where the previously standing door was, rage in his blood red eyes. The stench that enveloped the room could not be mistaken for anything other than a very angry and pissed off alpha.

Dabi reacted quicker than you, jumping up in between you and the offending alpha with a snarl ripping through his throat.

“What is this? Playing hooky with some dumb useless omega? Can’t keep it in your pants, Dabi, long enough to answer my calls?” The tall and lanky blue haired alpha stepped into the room menacingly, and while Dabi was easily bigger than he was, you knew that the other alpha outranked him. That he was more dangerous.

“Get out, she’s mine.” The smell in the air was choking you as the two alphas pumped out enough pheromones to coat the entire block, along with the smoke emitting from Dabi’s body, his temperature rising and blue flames appearing in one of his hands threateningly. Your omega let out a loud chirp realizing the situation. You were in a very small flammable room, with two pissed off and very dangerous alphas. That were about to fight because of you. And you had dropped your candy bar.

Shigaraki moved first, he reached for you, but Dabi reacted faster, grabbing your wrist and spinning you behind him the opposite way past Shigaraki, thrusting his enflamed hand out towards the alpha, essentially switching your places, the lamp providing the only light in the room other than the light from the hallway outside being dusted in the process, Shigaraki hissing in pain at being touched by Dabi’s fire before he started laughing maniacally. You could smell the fear coming off of yourself as you stepped back into the door frame. You realized this was it, you could run. But you weren’t sure you would get very far. You hesitated not sure what to do, your omega chirping wildly as you searched for an answer.

Dabi continued his onslaught of fire, burning scorch marks into the walls as the blue haired alpha dodged. An annoyed hiss leaving his lips. “Kurogiri!”

Shigaraki moved again, this time disappearing into a black mist that appeared in front of him. You could hear Dabi snarl out whipping around to grab you, but he was too late. Four fingers were wrapped around your throat from behind you, and you could smell the distinct scent of ash and decay radiating off of the alpha that had you trapped. The room went silent other than your whimpers that you couldn’t control. You had heard very little about Shigaraki, but after the USJ incident, Shoto had talked about the villain who could dust anything or anyone with just a touch of five fingers.  At the time you had thought the villain was scary. With how shaken up Shoto was you thought you understood what he was trying to explain. But being here, in this moment, with your life just a finger from ending, you truly understood the extent of the fear that those kids had gone through. You weren’t even sure if this villain’s quirk would work against you, but you didn’t want to test it.

“Maybe next time you’ll answer your phone instead of entertaining a stupid little omega whore.” You couldn’t even feel the tears streaming down your face, your voice had gone silent. You never smelled anything as sour as the fear radiating off of you. Not even when Endevor had engulfed you in fire for the first time when you were just a pup to test if your quirk would protect you.

“No! Please!” The look on Dabi’s face was heartbreaking. The sound of his voice cracking at seeing you like this, about to die due to his negligence, echoed around the room. The word ‘please’ ringing in your ear, almost as loud as your own roaring heartbeat.

For some reason, that word made Shigaraki pause, glancing with confusion to you behind your back, and for some reason, that brief second made you realize you didn’t want to die seeing Dabi with that look on his face, it reminded you so much of a look that another alpha had given you so long ago. So you did the only thing you could do in the moment to make him feel better.

Dabi doesn’t think he has ever heard a purr so heavenly. You sounded like an angel. Like a siren desperately calling him out to sea. He didn’t think he would ever listen to another purr again and enjoy it, with one noise you had ruined him. It was sad, scared, but beautiful and comforting and all at the same time, even with the current predicament you found yourself in. It was all that his alpha could do to return your purr with an attempt at a calming scent, one that he hadn’t emitted for a long time, and it was a shaky attempt at best, but your omega could still pick up on the change in the smell of the air. You closed your eyes, purring louder and focusing on that spicey warm smell of cinnamon, letting your mind wander back to the one of the last times you had smelled something so nice.

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“Leave her alone!” A growl came from the young red headed boy in front of you, he was getting closer and closer to presenting age and his secondary sex was growing stronger by the day. There was no doubt now that he would present as an alpha. Endevor was proud.

He was also annoyed at the pup’s disobedience.

Endevor shoved you to the ground, you chirping softly and curling in on your self as you looked up at the two males.

“You want me to leave her alone? Then prove to me that you can handle this. Do it Touya. I want you outside in five minutes, and you are going to get that move perfected or she becomes target practice.” Endevor turned to leave at that point, sending one more glare in your direction before muttering. “Prove to me there was a point in wasting the money on this runt.”

Immediately Touya dropped down in front of you, pulling you into his arms, checking you over for injuries.

“I’m fine… Touya I’m fine.” You pushed him off of you. For once in your life you were upset at him. Angry. And he couldn’t understand why.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I should have stopped him sooner. I just am too weak to over power him. I promise I’ll get stronger.”

“No! That’s not what I want! I just want you to be safe! Stop trying to prove that you can do this stupid move. Do you not see what it’s doing to you?  Touya you are burning yourself up! You are going to end up hurt in a way that might not be fixable!” You stood up, brushing yourself off, ignoring the bruised pain where endevor had you held up by your throat. Ignoring the way your eyes your eyes burned with unshed tears. You couldn’t protect Touya if he was so worried about you all the time. You had to suck it up.

“Y/N,” Touya’s face looked completely torn. All he wanted to do was to be good enough for you, and if it meant hurting himself just a little he would do it.

“I have to Y/N… I have to get stronger, to be able to protect you.”

He pulled you back into his arms, placing soft little kisses to your cheeks, releasing the calming scent of cinnamon that he knew you liked so much. He would do whatever it took to keep you safe. He wouldn’t let you cry anymore. He would do whatever it took to protect you. To give you the life you deserved.

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You threw yourself into Dabi’s arms, a sob leaving you lips the second that the fingers detached from your throat. He collected you into his grasp, hugging your face to his chest, lightly pressing his lips to the top of your head, petting your hair soothingly as he glared daggers at the other alpha who was watching in awed confusion, his fingers tearing at his neck with scratches.

“What the fuck is your problem?” He was angry. He was livid. He was going to kill him for scaring his precious omega.

You couldn’t help yourself, your omega wanted comfort, from the only person in the room that would give it to her. You leaned up on your tip toes and nuzzled gently against the alpha’s scent glands, inhaling the scent of cinnamon, smoke and whiskey, trying to calm yourself down. Earning a soft strangled sound from the alpha’s throat.

“Get out!” He wasn’t going to say it again, you were finally warming up to him and it was because you were terrified. He hated that it was in this situation but all he wanted to do was to make you feel better. All his alpha wanted to do was worship you.

The blue haired alpha was scratching his neck in thought, watching the exchange between the alpha and omega in front of him. He could tell she wasn’t bonded. Hell, she wasn’t even scented by him thoroughly it seemed, yet the alpha in front of him was acting like she was more than just some groupie he found to warm his bed. As far as he was aware, Dabi had never shown any interest in an omega other than to deal with his ruts, and they usually didn’t want anything to do with him after that, screaming profanities that could be heard throughout the compound that was the leagues base where most of them stayed. In fact, Shigaraki was pretty sure Dabi never brought anyone to his personal shithole of an apartment, always stating that he didn’t want them to stink up the place.

Dabi leaned down, running his nose against your scent glands in return, cooing softly in your ear that everything was okay. You were okay. He was going to kill him and that everything was okay and then the two of you could take a nap and relax and everything was going to be okay.

For some reason, the threat didn’t even phase you.

Finally, Shigaraki groaned in annoyance. His fingers stopping their itching as he turned to the beta Kurogiri, who you just now registered was there, mumbling something quietly to him before snapping at the couple in front of him.

“If you want to play house then do it on your own time. We have a mission to do.”

“I’m not leaving her unprotected” Dabi snarled back the tension in the room still thick, causing your omega to curl further into his arms until you were flush against him, your face hiding in his neck whimpering soft pleads for him to protect you. You knew within three seconds that you much rather cuddle up against the murderer in your arms than have to face the hand covered alpha that wanted to rule the world.  

“Fine, fine. Then bring your pet. I don’t care.” Shigaraki turned and slipped into the black mist that was Kurogiri’s portal, another one appearing underneath you and Dabi, swallowing you whole as you let out distressed chirps.

[beelspillowpet]

Filthy Otaku - Leviathan x Fem!MC

Another thing I’ve been whipping up for when I hit 100 followers on this account~ I recall seeing a snippet from someone else about degrading Leviathan and I couldn’t help but dive into that topic more here~ I love our little Otaku snake boy so much  ♡

Content Warning!!! Degradation kink, slight edgeplay, generally just being mean, but is still somewhat soft towards the end. MC is a female.

You didn’t need to hustle. Life in the Devildom wasn’t always easy, but one thing that kept you neck deep out of trouble was money. The Avatar of Greed let you in on a little secret; life down here in the Devildom wasn’t too different from life in the human realm. Get a little bit of cash to spend, you’ll have demons dancing in the palm of your hand.

What started as a little joke quickly devolved into a means of getting consistent cash. It was like a little daily piggy bank, spilling its contents for you to keep forever. You somehow never suspected the creepy Otaku to be the real pervert in the family; especially with Asmodeus right there.

After your shower, you felt clean and refreshed. Nothing felt better than pampering your skin after a long day. To get into nice clean clothes, and then crawl into bed to wake up the next day. Or at least whenever Lucifer woke you up. You still weren’t used to the day/night cycle, without a sun to tell you to wake up.

Now, though, you added something new to your shower routines. You slipped into your new pajamas, silky smooth. Asmodeus had wanted a pair like that for a while, and questioned how you got your hands on it. The others did as well. You gave a sly grin, “That’s a secret~” you purr. The secret was the Third Born.

You walked down the hallway in nothing but your robe. After knocking a few times, you opened the door without giving the phrase. You didn't need it. No one else came into his room at these sorts of hours. “Levi,” you say boredly. He sits up from his bed (bathtub, really) and removes his headphones. His face is flushed.

“I’ve got a new pair for ya’,” you smirk, reaching into the pocket of your robe to pull out your underwear. It was a pair you had just taken off before your shower. It only made sense that deprived freaks like Leviathan would be into this sort of thing. Using the underwear of pretty girls to jack off with, sniff, and do whatever else it is weirdos do with them.

Leviathan scrambled from out of the bathtub and over to you. His clammy hands reached for the used pair, before you snatched them away. Your other hand came out, curling the fingers and uncurling them.

“Grimm,” you instruct. “I want cash in hand, before I hand anything over. So go get my grimm.”

Leviathan nods, going back to his bathtub and leaning over it. You stare at him, admittedly a bit turned on by how excited he is to use a new pair of your underwear. He returns with a hand full of grimm, and another hand with your used up underwear from the previous day.

“I figured you might… want them back?” he tries, but doesn’t offer them with the grimm.

“No,” you say scoffed. “I don’t want my used underwear back. That’s disgusting.” he cringes a bit, but takes the new pair in place of his grimm. You step back and look him over once. He’s flushed, a bit out of breath, and very shaky. “You were just jerking off, weren’t you?”

He shamefully nods, not looking you in the eyes. You smirk. This might be your chance to try something out.

“You really are a disgusting otaku freak.” You spat out. He shuddered. “That one was free, by the way.” He lowers his head and steps back towards his bathtub. He had expected you to leave, but you just stood there, confident smirk on your face. “I want to try something.” you say. “I want to watch you sit in that chair,” you point to his gaming chair across the room. “Touch yourself. I want to see how a revolting freak like you gets off.”

He swallowed, his knees weak. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take already. He sat in his chair across the room, sliding down his pants to present his hardened cock. With both pairs of used underwear in his hands, he wrapped the silk fabric around his girth and stroked slowly. He was slow now, giving soft pants every now and then. You were getting bored quickly.

“Yank it already, god dammit. Or are you making love to my fucking panties?” You scowl. You’re almost running across the room now, going through his drawers. You know he’s got a toy or two hidden in here somewhere. If not for- aha. Your eyes land on his bathtub, where you know he keeps his Ruri-Chan body pillow. You pace towards it, reach inside, and pull out the body pillow. His eyes widen in fear, his hand stilling.

“W-what’re you-”

“I wonder if I cut a hole in her face and stick a onahole inside, would that get you off faster?” You muse. “Face-fucking your cute Ruri-Chan pillow for me. I bet you’d thought of doing it before, am I right?”

“N-not to R...Ruri-Chan, no…” he trembles. You raise an eyebrow. He must be lying, but you don’t press on it.

“Have you thought about me?”

The color in his face drains. Bingo.

You drop the body pillow back into the bathtub lazily, creeping towards him. “Stroke yourself, you pathetic bitch.” you sneer. As if he was a fully charged battery, his hand stuttered back to life. It was robotic, as if he were merely following orders. “That’s right. Mm, you’ve thought about it, haven’t you? Fucking me silly in your bathtub. On the floor. Against the wall. You’ve thought of doing horrible things to me, haven’t you, Levi?”

“Yes,” he breathes. “I-I’ve thought of you. Your body, d-doing lewd things t-to you, aah…”

“Tell me.” You cooed, right next to his ear now. “Tell me some of the things you’ve wanted to do to me.” You turned and kissed his temple. He choked on his own spit for a moment, stroking himself harder.

“I-I can’t…” he sobs. “P-please, it’s too embarrassing…”

“Tell me or I’ll never give you another used pair of underwear again.” You threaten. His eyes open and he jolts away from you, staring bewildered. “I mean it, Levi. I can just give my used panties to another sweaty, fat bastard. Someone somehow much less useful that you. But…” his eyes brighten, a distorted smile slowly creeping across his lips. “If you tell me… I might bless you. By taking your virginity for you?” you pout innocently.

He pants, squeezing his cock in his fist. “Re...really?! You’d let me-?”

“I don’t want you to speak another fucking word. Not unless it’s about what you imagine doing to me. Do you understand?”

“F-fucking your thighs…” he starts slow. He licks his lower lips before continuing. “M-making you were thigh highs and pushing c-cock…. Between them.”

“Am I only wearing thigh highs?” Your hands start massaging his shoulders gently. “You like when I touch you, huh? Even if our knuckles brush, it just makes you so hot and bothered doesn’t it?”

Leviathan let out a puffy sigh, stroking himself slower. You eyed his hand as he kept talking. Occasionally butting into his fantasies. Your touches roamed from his chest, to his neck, where you unceremoniously choked him for a few seconds. There was a time where you took to slapping him, and even thought of spitting on him. While you didn’t deny the fact that he would be into it, it still stopped you from going through with it. You weren’t an idiot; if you pissed him off somehow, he would tear you to bits. Maybe fuck you before doing it, though.

You stood up straight, hissing. “Are you edging yourself?” you question. By now he was a shivering mess, barely able to string words together. “Fucking loser. You’re so desperate for pussy. You’re wanting for me to open my legs like a cheap whore for you. You want to fuck me?”

“Y...y-yes… Want to… please you…”

You smirk. “Good boy. You might be worth something after all. Well then? Get up. Now.”

It took him a moment, stumbling out of his seat and on to shaky sea legs. You opened your robe and discarded it on the floor. “By the way,” you start, a smile on your face, a smile in your voice. “You’ll pay for this too, in the morning. Even more if you cum inside. Got that?”

With that, you sit in his chair and slouch. “Get to it then, you worthless sack of shit. Make me feel good. Make your mommy- your master- your precious senpai feel good. You think you can do that? With your pathetic otaku dick, you think you can please me?” You lift your knees up to your chest before opening your thighs slowly, a cocky grin spread across your face. You move down to your pussy and trace circles across your clit. He’s watching, cock in hand, hunched over like an animal.

Just like one, he pounces.

He barely shoves more than half of his cock inside you and you’re clamping down hard on him. You give a choked groan that dies somewhere in the back of your throat when he immediately starts thrusting in. His hips are moving at an uneven, wild pace. He pulls almost all the way out, leaving you empty, trying to suck him back in. Then he bottoms out all in one thrust, making your body spasm.

“Fuck!” You yell, nearly kicking him in the face. “Calm the fuck down!” He leans forward, now hovering over you. “Fucking freak! I said calm down!” he doesn’t listen, too wrapped up in the pleasure of your fresh, wet pussy to do anything else. One of his hands grabs your ankle, the other his supporting him against the chair as he pounds into you. His hips crashing into yours leaving a bruising pain on your ass. His balls slapping against your skin, and his harsh breathing reminds you of a fish out of water, gasping.

You grit your teeth and decide the only thing you can do is hold on and hope he manages to get some sense into him. Hoping was a stupid idea, especially for someone like Leviathan.

“Fucking stupid otaku,” you groan. “This is how you fuck a lady? This is how you treat her? Like a blow up doll?! You’ll never amount to anything. Absolute trash.”

He seems to hear just fine when you’re degrading him, because with each harsh word, his thrusts get harder. He’s practically dragging you against his cock now, pushing and pulling you. His hands find purchase on your hips and he quiets down for a moment, head dipping low. You can feel his clammy fingers tightening their grip before stars burst behind your eyeballs.

“Fuck! God you’re such a slut! Yes!” You’re squeezing down on him, clenching on to the chair for dear life. You were so busy insulting him that your own orgasm literally blindsided you.

There was a distinct growl that came from Leviathan, and he muttered in a dangerous tone. “Came on that cock, huh?” An uneven laugh followed. You could barely form words, still riding out your high while he continued with his frenzied pace. It wasn’t long after before you felt him spilling himself inside you. You contorted at the sensation, but with practiced ease, stilled after, allowing him to finish.

As he slowed down, still riding out his high, he let go of you. He muttered a soft apology as he began to pull out, stepping away. Your legs dropped to the floor and you sighed, content. You could still feel that distinct ache in your fingers from tensing on the chair so fiercely. “Fuck, Levi…” you pant.

“I’m s-sorry…” he stammers. He reaches out to help you stand, and when you get a steady footing under you, you sigh. “Do you need any help?” he asks, picking up your robe off the floor.

“No,” you smile. “I just need another shower is all. Thanks, though.” You didn’t feel like keeping the façade up. You were exhausted after that brutal fucking. You needed a nap.

It’s not like you were always mean to him. It was just strict business, and he didn’t seem to mind it. You treated him nice everywhere else. You never quite understood why he was so into this degradation kink, since he was such a powerful demon. But everyone is into their own thing, you guess.

[nightshade-minho]

-Blue Book- (10)

Act 2

Warnings: angsty shit, future smut.

Wc: 1.8k (sorry for the short ass chapter-)

You blinked sleepily, a finger poking your arm and insistently pulling you out of your slumber.

A whine left your mouth as you opened your eyes slightly, Felix's face hovering over yours.

"Lix-" You groaned, pushing him away and casting a quick glance at the clock on your wall. " It's a Saturday morning, fucking let me sleep." You rolled over, burying your face in the pillow as Felix let out a deep sigh.

"Y/n, this is important. There's something I thought I should let you know-"

"Fuck. Off." You growled, voice muffled by the pillow.

Felix sat there for a moment, contemplating his life choices. Why exactly did he think it would be a good idea to try and wake you up at 8 am on a Saturday?

If he told you the news now, you'd be mad at him for having disturbed your precious sleep. If he tells you when it's too late- god, you'd be pissed beyond doubt.

Either way, he'd have to face your wrath. Deciding he didn't want such a pretty morning to be ruined, he put it off. Was it the right decision? Guess he had to wait and find out.

He cast one last glance at your sleeping face, heart beating. He hoped you’d take it well...he doesn’t want to see you devastated again. 

Mentions of him always managed to do exactly that, though. 

He really wasn’t prepared for another night of crying and excessive wine drinking, patting your back as you asked the same question, again and again.

He wished he could let you know you were more than enough, worthy of the world. And he’d be sure to protect you. 

He wasn’t going to hurt you. Not again.

***

When you finally woke up, courtesy of your alarm, you sat up and slid out of bed. Stumbling out of your room, you headed to the bathroom, which seemed to be locked.

"Lix! Come out, I really need to pee!"

"Just a second!"

You groaned and rested your head against the door, letting your eyes flutter closed again. Felix was definitely a wonderful roommate- you'd gotten lucky in that department- but he always hogged the bathroom, and it infuriated you.

You still remembered the day you met Felix again. You'd moved back to the town after about five years, no longer wanting to live with your mom and her insufferable boyfriend. As soon as you graduated, you took advantage of your newfound independence to go back to where it all began.

Running into Felix had been a pleasant surprise. The two of you had gone to a café to catch up. He mentioned his need for a roommate, and since then you'd been inseparable. He re-introduced you to the boys, including Minho who you’d already been in touch with. They’d all been friends even after high school and throughout college, their old group intact. Well, except for him.

Chan had moved away just a few weeks after you had, according to Felix. It had been quite sudden, and there were barely any goodbyes, just like with you. Half the guys had been relieved, apparently. Especially Minho. 

Everything that had happened back in high school seemed extremely childish, now that you were an adult with a job and bills to pay. However, you still couldn't exactly find it in your heart to forgive Chan. He was your first love, after all...and those tend to turn bittersweet. He'd betrayed your trust and played with your feelings. Yes, you were young and naïve, but you should have seen it coming- you'd always thought he was too perfect for you. Too good to be true...

You almost fell forward when the door suddenly opened, snapping out of your thoughts as Felix caught you, chuckling.

"Take a shower, sleepyhead." He chuckled, ruffling your hair as he let you go and walked over to the kitchen, presumably to make breakfast.

You smiled as he left, sleepily removing your sweatpants and shirt when you heard your phone ring from on top of the sink. Pausing, you inched closer and grabbed it as you shut the door, lifting the phone to your ear after a quick glance at the caller ID.

"Minho! I was just about to take a shower-"

A chuckle from the other end. "Sure, I was just calling to remind you."

"Remind me? Of what?"

"We were planning to go to the mall today!" His indignant voice came shooting into your ears. You winced and giggled, clutching the phone tighter as a loud sigh came through.

"Chill, I didn't forget."

A huff. "Good. I'll pick you up in a bit."

You ended the call, a faint smile lingering on your face. Your unlikely friendship with Minho was one the universe itself probably didn't see coming, in all honesty. 

You still remembered how vile he used to be. Yes, he had a reason, but that didn’t exactly erase all the pain and discomfort he’d put you through. 

He’d shown massive regret, though. Proved that he changed for the better. Besides, you couldn’t exactly push him away after finding out what connected the two of you. So, you’d forgiven him...

You wondered if you would ever find it in yourself to forgive Chan the same way- if you ever see him again, that is. The pain he’d caused was worse. You’d trusted him...loved him, only to find out he’d been using you all along. That he was in love with someone else, even as he hugged you and kissed you. As you brushed your teeth, your mind drifted, memories made with him replaying in your head. The feeling of his soft lips pressed against yours...intertwined fingers, his arms wrapped firmly around you as a storm raged on, a similar one swirling in your heart.

You shook your head, rinsing your mouth as you reminded yourself that it was all in the past. There was no point thinking about Chan anymore. You had Felix and Minho, your best friends and the only people that mattered, currently. It was all you needed.

***

Chan’s grip on the steering wheel was loose, his eyes half-open as he drove. He was way too tired, and it was probably dangerous to drive in his state. He was already close, though.

He briefly averted his eyes from the road to check the directions Felix had texted him. Yes, he’d arrive any minute now.

His heart was pounding. He couldn’t believe he was back here, years later. He’d missed this town, to be honest. And yet, at the time, his parents’ transfer had felt like a blessing. A way to escape from the pain he’d felt at your betrayal, as well as your sudden departure.

Felix had told him. You were his roommate. There was a lump in his throat, nervousness and anxiety at the thought of seeing you again brimming up. He didn’t know if he was ready.

The initial anger he’d felt when he saw you with Minho had faded away. All that was left now was disappointment, a faint sadness lingering in the back of his mind at all times. 

You’d been the one to show him what happiness felt like. He’d felt it when cuddling your small frame- skin pressed against skin, your radiant smile etching itself into his brain. He’d felt it when you took him to that museum, showing him what true beauty was. 

He couldn’t forget what you felt like. He’d tried to, with numerous people. And yet...all he could think about was you. Even now, as an adult. And here he was, mere minutes away from having to see your face again.

Just be quick. In, out. Greet Felix, catch up with him a little and that’s it. Come on, Chan. You can do this...

He parked the car, swallowing as he stepped out. This was it.

***

You pulled up your pants just as you heard the doorbell ring. “Coming!’ You shouted, zipping up as you ran over to the door, opening it and glaring.

"Ah, finally! You're late."

"I had to drop Dea at school." Minho shook his head, entering your apartment and heading straight to the kitchen, the enticing smells luring him in.

"Oh. How is she? It's been a while since I saw her."

"She's good. Misses you a little. She asked me when we're all going to hang out again."

"Soon." You assured, knowing you weren't that busy the following week. Following him into the kitchen, you watched Felix flip the pancakes, looking up as Minho entered.

"Hey, Min. Didn't know you were coming today. Want some?" He tilted his chin towards the pan.

Minho smirked and grabbed one of the strawberries Felix had set aside, popping into his mouth and shaking his head. "No, thanks. We've got a movie to catch, so we have to leave right away." You pouted at that, crossing your arms. "But I don't wanna be hungry! Want pancakes." You mumbled.

The two men looked at you, eyebrows raised at your sudden display. Felix cringed, chuckling as Minho cooed at you.

"You're so cute." He pinched your cheek, looking back at his watch. "Ah fuck, we really have to go now, Y/n."

"But-" You looked over at Felix, who flashed you an apologetic grin as Minho grabbed your hand, practically dragging you over to the door.

"Wait!" Felix suddenly called out, cursing under his breath as he remembered what he was supposed to tell you. Fuck, he’d almost forgot.

"There's no time to waste! We'll be back later, Lix-"

It was too late. Felix was secretly glad Minho was taking you away though. Maybe he could quickly get things done with Chan, and get him to leave before you come back? No...it would be unfair to keep the truth from you. He didn't want you to run into Chan on accident, and quite possibly murder him when you get home.

Calming down a little, he turned back to his pan, just as Minho opened the door.

Wait-

Your eyes widened as your eyes landed on the man standing in front of you.

No. It couldn't be...were you hallucinating? Or was that really Chan, frozen in place with his finger hovering over the doorbell?

Unfortunately, it wasn't a trick your brain was playing on you. Minho was staring at Chan too, shell-shocked as the latter's gaze drifted down to your intertwined hands.

A mass of uncomfortable feelings and emotions you'd repressed for years bubbled up to the surface, almost making you want to throw up. This couldn't be happening.

Chan felt the same way. So you were still with Minho? Fuck, the regret in him was raw, painful as it resurfaced. Suddenly, the anger was back.

The prolonged silence was suspicious to Felix. "Hey, guys...?" He frowned and left the kitchen, stopping in his tracks as he saw Chan and you, icy glares evident as you stared at each other.

"Fuck." He gulped, inching closer to the three. "Um. This was what I m-meant to tell you, Y/n. Surprise! Chan's back!" He giggled nervously, the anger in your eyes scaring him slightly as you turned to look at him.

Chan gritted his teeth, eyes still trained on your hands. “I’m back.” He repeated, glaring at you.

Fuck.

[strangeradventuresofp]

protect you (geralt x reader)

warnings : language !

requested by : @wellfuckmyexistence​ -  I know you are probs swamped with requests! But I would be hella interested in seeing you write some Geralt X Reader stuff! Maybe reader is also a Witcher? Maybe some cuddles? Maybe some angst? Some arguing??? Idk anything really tbh!

a/n : i tried to do all lol maybe this was too adventurous. i loved writing this! i had so much fun!! thank you so much, i hope you enjoy this<3333

“No, don’t you fucking dare ignore me!” You spat with clenched fists.

The feelings you felt at this moment couldn’t be determined. Your heart felt as if it were shattering in your chest, like fine crystal china breaking, tiny fragments remaining that were finer that dust. It felt like your heart had been punctured a million times over by thousands of tiny pins; it stings at first, but now it leaves you numb – not even remotely painful, just numb. Your entire body ached with such an overwhelming vigour. For the first time in your life you had felt exhausted. And it terrified you.

Being a witcher surely had it perks, enhanced agility, healing abilities, augmented strength. But it also came with a huge stigma, that was completely untrue. ‘Witchers can’t feel emotion’. Boy, if you had a coin for every time you had heard those words. It frustrated you beyond frustration. Sure, you were pretty much created to be soulless beasts, but that wasn’t the case. You were still a human, only with these superhuman abilities. You hated that you were looked down upon to be entirely emotionless. If anything, you thought that you felt emotions more. Especially the strong ones. Arousal, anger. Love. And that was exactly what had happened.

Geralt of Rivia, perhaps one of, if not the, most famous witchers about. He was easily distinguishable. His pale face and white hair made it obvious to tell that it was him. You had met him in an inn one night.

Apparently, you had caused a ruckus, which you didn’t. It was a perfectly normal reaction to a drunk stranger grabbing your arse. Needless to say, he was up against the wall with a knife against his neck within the same second. It gave you so much satisfaction to watch him squirm and hear him plead for his life, all the while hearing the others in the bar shouting foul things to you. You had heard worse, so you didn’t exactly care. That was when this huge man stood up from his solitary corner and made his way over to you. He leant into your ear, words rumbling from his chest.

“Let him go.” He commanded and you chuckled.

“And what if I don’t? You’re gonna stop me, are you?”

“Let him go.” He repeated, more demanding this time. Rolling your eyes, you forced your knife further against his throat before letting go. The man scampered off and you turned to face whoever the deep voice belonged to with a scowl.

When your eyes landed on him, you recognised him immediately, but you refused to acknowledge that you knew him. He looked confused, stepped back a little as if to get a better look of you.

“If you want to stare, why don’t we get a room?” You teased, a smirk pulling at your lips.

His face didn’t falter. “You’re a witcher.”

“Lucky guess. What do you want?” He looked at you, puzzled. “I doubt you came up to me to save me from a situation that I clearly wasn’t struggling in. So, I’ll ask you again. What do you want?”

“So hostile.” Geralt took a lock of your hair between his fingers before flicking it from your shoulder. A small smirk washed over his lips and you found yourself staring. It wasn’t long after that that you were pinned against the wall by his frame, his face in your neck and his fingers fumbling to get your clothes off of your body.

From that moment, you had travelled with him and Jaskier, the bard that named himself Geralt’s companion. It was nice. You enjoyed Geralt’s company, despite him being a complete brood most of the time. It was nice to have someone understand your struggles and how fucked up you were. You were both turned against your will. It felt good to have someone understand that. As for Jaskier, he was kind to you. You had told him many times that you liked his voice. He often invited you to sing with him, since you had admitted that you often sang to help yourself through witcher training. It led to him subtly changing the words to one of the songs he sang on your adventures; ‘Toss a coin to your witchers, O Valley of Plenty.’

You and Geralt had a very complicated relationship. There were feelings involved on your side and distant ones on his. He had shared your bed many nights, much to the complaint of Jaskier. You understood him and he understood you better than you knew yourselves. You loved him.

One night, after sharing your bed in an inn, he had disappeared into thin air. Neither you nor Jaskier had the slightest idea of where he went. A terrible feeling started to grow in your stomach the longer he did not return to you. Many nights you and Jaskier ate alone. You were not yourself. Jaskier noticed.

“Y/N—”

“I have this awful feeling, Jask, in my stomach. It feels like knots are being tied with my insides. I don’t know what it means; I have never felt it before.”

He let out a small laugh. “You’re worried for him.”

“I am not.” You urged with a scowl. But when you thought about it, the feeling began the morning you had woke up and not found him. You searched outside for Roach, but she was nowhere to be found either. It grew more every day that Geralt didn’t come back.

Now, he had returned, and you were angry. Angry was an understatement. It took everything in you not to bury your knife into his chest the moment he stepped through the inn door.

You slammed the door shut, enclosing the both of you inside the room that you had been living in for months on end. “Where did you go?”

“None of your business.”

“Where the hell did you go?” The poison in your voice would’ve made any other flinch. It pissed you off how Geralt didn’t seem to take you seriously when you were angry. He lay on the bed, just looking at you. Your eyebrows drew further together.

“I can’t believe I told you I loved you.” He avoided your gaze. And in that moment, suddenly everything made sense. The morning that you had awoken to find him missing, the night before you had tiredly let it slip that you loved him. “Is that why?

Did you even plan on coming back?” Quite quickly your eyes were pooling with tears, threatening to fall if he ignored you once more. The tremor in your voice was something that caught his attention and he sat up, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“It was a temporary trip. I came back.” Geralt showed no other indication of his feelings.

“I’m so stupid.” Your breathing was raggedy as you buried your head in your hands, begging for your tears to stay put.

“Witchers can’t feel.” A lie. Why was he trying to lie to you? He didn’t even know himself.

“Come on, Geralt. You and me both know that’s horseshit.” When he didn’t respond, you took the initiative and moved to the bedside table, snatching your knife from it and a small sack of money. Spinning around, you swung the door open, rushing down the inn stairs. You heard him call out your name, but you ignored him. As you tossed the money to the innkeeper, you opened the door that led you outside. Quickly, you mounted your horse, grabbing the reigns.

You felt a hand on your knee.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jask. I can’t stay here anymore, not with that brooding prick about. I’m sorry.”

“But Y/N—”

“I hope we meet again, Jask. You’re a good friend. One which I don’t deserve.” You gave him a half smile before riding off out of the village. Jaskier called your name with a frown as you set off.

~~~

You were a few days ride out of whatever village you were staying in before. It was dark. You unsure of what day it was exactly, and whether it was night or early morning. There was a fire to keep you warm and your cloak, but you used it as a pillow. You had tried the first night to sleep without something to support your head but woke up with a crick in your neck. Supposedly, spending months in an inn that had pillows had meant that you had built quite a tolerance to having one. In complete honest, you had no idea where you were. But you were away from Geralt of Rivia, and that was all that mattered. It was not easy to let the one you loved go, just like it is not easy to fall in love in the first place. This was something you had yet to learn, for Geralt was the first that you had ever truly loved. Sure, you had had harmless flings, but they are harmless. They mean nothing. It was supposed to be the same with him. It turned out to be a lot more harmful to your feelings that it had meant to be.

A snap in the wood behind you captured your attention from your thoughts and you stood, placing your hand firmly on the hilt of your knife on your belt, facing the danger.

“Who’s there?” You cautioned, teeth gritting whilst your eyes adjusted to the darkness beyond the trees. You waited. When you heard another noise to the left of you, you grabbed the lurking body, pushing it hard against a tree. At least you thought you did. The cold of the tree gave you goosebumps up your back and you blinked, attempting the make out the face of the shadow that held its blade against your throat. You stuck your chin up, giving them more access to the skin of your neck. If they were going to cut your throat, they best do it well.

But they released you.

“Shouldn’t you know better than to try to attack me?” The familiar voice made your heart ache.

“I didn’t know it was you.” Pushing his body further away from yours, you sat back down beside the fire, warming your hands by it and rubbing them together. You felt his eyes on you. “If you’re going to just stare at me, fuck off.” Just as you finished your sentence, you shivered. You let out a breath.

Suddenly a pair of large, strong hands wrapped themselves around your figure and pulled you back against a warm, firm object. You could feel his breath against your skin, and you frowned.

“Why did you come looking for me?”

“I was worried.” He said, and your heart fluttered in your chest, though your scowl deepened.

“I am the only female to have ever survived becoming a witcher, and you were worried for me?”

“Hm.” He mumbled.

You sighed deeply. “I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Being near you. Indulging in my fantasies.” A small chuckle left your lips. “I can’t be around you, Geralt. Not while I still care about you.”

He huffed. “I care about you.” Your heart skipped a beat and your breath hitched in your throat. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into his chest, his arms firmly wrapped around you, as if he would never let you go.

“But, if that’s true, then why—”

“It was dangerous. I couldn’t risk you getting hurt.”

“So instead you left me for months on end after I admitted that I loved you?”

“I was protecting you.”

“You needn’t protect me, Geralt. Don’t you know this by now? I can hold my own. Stop trying to protect me.”

“Never.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest and you smiled. You were still angry at him, obviously, who wouldn’t be? “…Do you still…?”

“Do I still, what?” He cleared his throat awkwardly. You chuckled. “It’s not easy to fall in love. It’s harder to fall out of love.” Spinning yourself around in his arms, you looked at him.

“I love you.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you, Geralt of Rivia.” He hummed contently at your confession and slid his hand to the back of your neck. He pulled you forward, and you found that his lips were on yours. It wasn’t like the other times that you had shared kisses. This one had an innocence to it. You were being authentically unapologetically yourselves and you were happy to accept each other like that. Like lovers. You were in love with each other.

The two of you spent the night in the forest, cuddled against each other by the fire. And Jaskier was stuck at the inn, with no knowledge of where either of you were.

masterlist

[whumpingcrow]

Pt.14 "Honeymoon"

CW: injury mention/description, unconscious whumpee, bondage, panic attack mention, memory loss, teeth pulling mention (brief, vague), drugs/alcohol, creepy/intimate whumper, death mention, gun mention (brief), abduction, car setting, airport setting, security guards, plane setting, plane crash discussion, tics/tourettes (pretty explicit), August needs his own warning (let me know if i missed anything!)

Elias felt heavy when he woke up, like his head was full of sand. He couldn't open his eyes for a moment, just heard distant, almost panicked voices. After a few seconds, he was hit with an onslaught of pain so bad that his ears were ringing and he could feel his throat closing up. After he adjusted to it (it never faded when it was this bad, he just was able to feel around it, live with it), he realized his hands were tied behind him and he was propped up on a chair. A groan slipped past his lips as he lifted his head up, trying with every last bit of energy to open his eyes.

"Ah, there he is," he heard someone say, "good morning, sweetheart."

"Don't fucking touch him!" That was Tyson, Elias recognized his horrified voice instantly. Why was he so upset? Who else was here? Why the hell couldn't he open his eyes?

"Come on, bunny, wake up." Now when the voice spoke it was accompanied by a hand on his cheek, and he whined at the soreness that lit up there when it was touched. He couldn't remember anything happening, He remembered, through the hazy memory of a panic attack, Tyson telling him that Allen and Leo were there, and then he left the room. Elias waited in the bedroom, standing numbly in front of the closet on shaking legs, trying to gather his thoughts as he pulled on a shirt. But then what?

He finally forced his eyes open, squinting up at the blurry figure in front of him. It took him a few seconds to focus, but when he did his entire chest lit up in a dull panic and he tried to snap his head away from his gentle fingertips against his skin. August only laughed. "Careful, don't hurt yourself."

Elias looked past August, and Tyson was tied up in one of the other kitchen chairs, looking just as beat up as Elias felt. "Oh god," he whimpered, dropping his head down in despair, "oh god!"

"Don't be so dramatic. Didn't you miss me?" August knelt in front of him, taking his face in his hands and smiling. "God, I haven't been able to get you off my mind."

"Please," Elias sobbed, "please stop, August. Please."

At those words, Augusts face softened, and he looked human, almost sad. Elias always felt uneasy when he did that, it was so hard to tell if the sudden affection and compassion was real or if he just wanted Elias to think he liked him. And Elias was stupid, because every time it made him confused and doubtful because how the hell could the person who had gotten so high once he tried to pull out Elias's teeth suddenly have emotions? Where did he hide them away, when he was torturing Elias like it was his purpose? August ran his thumb across Elias's face, wiping his tears away. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry. That last day I...I never meant to go that far. I didn't mean to hurt you so bad. And I am so unbelievably sorry. I hope you can forgive me."

"You killed me!" He shot back. As soon as the sentence echoed back to him and he realized how he'd yelled, he snapped his mouth shut and braced himself as much as he could. He was surprised when August didn't hit him or get angry, only nodded sadly.

"I know. I'm so sorry, angel-"

"Get away from him you fucking asshole!" Tyson shouted again. August took a deep, aggravated breath before he stood straight, slowly making his way across the kitchen to Tyson. Tyson sat straighter as he approached, as straight and tall as he could with the ropes securing him to the chair. He tried to look brave, but he had seen the videos and the pictures, he had seen the aftermath of August's violence on both Elias and Allen, he knew the damage this monster could cause.

Elias watched on in horror as August swung, nearly knocking the chair over with how hard he hit Tyson.

"August!" He shrieked, pulling hard at the ropes around his wrists. "August stop hurting him!"

August tipped his head back, groaning in exasperation. Elias looked at Tyson, who was caved in on himself, trying to steady is ragged breathing. Elias couldn't help but think that it was all his fault, that if he had just stayed dead Tyson would not be hurting and in danger right now.

"Eli," August said, turning back to him. Elias flinched, looking up at him with wide, tearful eyes. "I can't stand being away from you, angel. It's tearing me apart."

"I don't...August, I c-cant..." He dropped his head down as a sob tore through him, squeezing his eyes shut. He gasped when August grabbed his shoulders hard, leaned away from him as much as he could. "P-please, August. Please stop this."

"I have to leave here, I'm going out of country until things settle down." He grabbed Elias's face, forcing him to look up at him. Elias finally opened his eyes as August smiled that warm, almost welcoming smile that always dropped Elias into a confused spiral. "I want you to come with me. I can make you so happy, Eli. We can be together all the time and be so happy. Remember how great it is to be together? Remember-"

"Don't listen to him Elias," Tyson pleaded, "he's lying to you, don't listen to him."

Elias sobbed when August started to pull away from him, knowing he was going to hurt Tyson again. "August, d-dont! Please don't!"

"Elias you need me!" August insisted. His voice had an edge of desperation, like he really was torn up about being away from Elias. "I know that you need me, you're doing horribly without me. I can see that and I know you can see that. Come with me."

"I can't. You...you're gonna hurt me and I can't...I can't deal with anymore pain."

August shook his head to himself, a look on his face that said 'you give me no other choice', then slowly pulled a handgun out of his waist band. "Suit yourself, then." He huffed, lifting the gun toward Tyson.

"No! No August stop wait!" Elias screamed, fighting hard against the rope, absolute panic coating every word he cried. "I'll go with you! Don't hurt him, please!"

August froze, then slowly lowered the gun. Elias felt a helpless sob tear through him and August sighed. "I knew you'd come to your senses," he tucked the gun away and stepped towards him to undo the rope around his wrists, "that's my good boy."

Elias stood on trembling legs when he was able to, clutching at August's shirt so he wouldn't fall. August looped his arm around him to help him stand, or just to touch him, it really could be either. The disgusting familiarity of the way August touched him made him want to cry.

"Don't do this, Elias!" Tyson cried, thrashing in the chair to try and free himself. He was losing Elias again, he was helpless and Elias was going to be hurt again and he couldn't do anything. It was agonizing to watch him limp toward the front door all wrapped up in August, leaning heavily against him. "Don't you fucking leave me!"

"I'm s-so sorry Tyson," he gasped, "I'm so fucking s-sorry."

Before either of them could say anything else, August pulled him out of the apartment and into a van. The second they were sitting down, Elias collapsed in on himself and began sobbing harder, his lungs heaving. August pulled him into his chest, holding him close.

"It's ok, bunny," he soothed him, "just breathe. You're alright."

It took him a long time to calm himself down, especially because every time he heard August's voice it sent him panicking again, but after awhile he pushed himself away from August and wrapped his arms around himself, looking out the window at the passing traffic.

"What happened to your face?" August asked, trailing his knuckles over his cheek gently. Elias tensed up, closing his eyes.

"It doesn't matter." He muttered. He wondered why August was asking that, didn't he send that man to the party himself, to hurt Elias? He probably just wanted to hear him admit to it, to describe what happened in detail. Elias bet that August would probably like that, the sick fuck, and so he didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

"Don't be like that, sweetheart. Tell me what happened."

With a huff, Elias retold the story, told him he knew that August had sent him, that it was painful, that he bled, all the grimy little things he knew August wanted to hear. By the end of it, he was shocked to see August looking rather displeased. He was silent, and it made Elias's skin crawl just as it always did, but then he sighed and forced a small smile onto his face.

"I'm glad you're here with me," he said, as if Elias had never said anything at all, "everything feels...right again." He glanced down at Elias, smiling wider at him. "Did you miss me?" He asked.

Elias looked up at him, a frown on his face. August didn't look any different than before, he was still handsome and clean shaven and unforgiving. His dark hair was slicked back out of his face, his dark blue eyes eerily flat, the smile he put on didn't quite reach them. In a way, Elias was glad he was seeing his face, that he didn't have to linger on the last memory of being choked to death anymore. "Yeah," he rasped out, "yeah, I did."

August smiled widely at him, it looked so genuine for a second that Elias felt a tiny inkling of relief. He was still rigid when August kissed him, but he leaned toward him obediently. It felt so familiar, his strong hand holding his face steady and his tongue slipping through his lips. "God, Eli, you have no idea how badly I missed you. It absolutely ruined me, what I did to you."

"I wanted you to," Elias admitted, "I was pissing you off on purpose so you'd kill me."

August chuckled, shaking his head. "Still, I shouldn't have taken it that far. I'm so happy you're still here."

Elias was surprised when they got to an airport, August definitely had balls, he had to give him that. He didn't know how he kept getting away with any of it, with getting out of jail and making it to other places with no issue. Even as they walked through security, he seemed relaxed and unbothered. Elias was more nervous than him, and he wasn't even the one in trouble. Even the security must've noticed his anxiety, because at one point one of them squared up to him, looking him up and down.

"How are you doing this morning?" One of them asked. She was short and stout, her voice firm yet sweet. Elias glanced over at August, who was seemingly making jokes with another security guard a few feet ahead of him.

"I've never been on a plane before," Elias mumbled, "I'm a little nervous."

She smiled warmly at him, watching in curiosity as he kept checking to see what August was doing, where he was. "Well you look like you're nervous about more than flying," she observed, "if you have anything to share with me I could take you to customs. It's more private."

Elias tensed, thinking for a moment about the offer. This could all be over if he just told her what was happening, she could call someone and August would go back to jail. But even then he wasn't sure it would end there, August had proven time and time again that jail wasn't going to stop him, and he didn't want Tyson to really get hurt. It was easier this way, to just go quietly and let August do what he wanted to him, at least then he would take all the pain instead of the people he cared about.

"No, I'm fine, thank you." He smiled weakly at her, then turned to see August watching them carefully. He thanked her again, then walked over to meet him.

"I hope you're not getting cold feet," he joked, "don't want things to get messy, do we?"

Elias shook his head quickly and leaned against him. "No, I want this."

August smiled at him, reaching out to pet his hair. "Thats good, bunny."

Once they were on the plane, Elias was even more nervous. His whole life he had been too broke to go anywhere, and he honestly didn't think he'd ever get the chance to go on a plane. And now that he was, he was with the worst possible person.

"What's wrong baby?" August whispered. He reached out and placed a hand over his leg. Elias looked at him, face twisted into a frown, and shrugged.

"Ive never been on a plane. I'm nervous." He frowned more when August chuckled softly and grabbed his hand.

"You'll be ok. I've got you." He sighed when Elias leaned his head against his shoulder, running his thumb over his hand. "You have no idea how terribly I missed you Eli. I missed holding you, I missed having you in my arms." Now he was whispering, his lips in Elias's hair as he spoke.

"You know, you did a really good job at making me repulsive. Tyson couldn't even look at me shirtless."

"You're not repulsive, little one. Not at all." He kissed his forehead gently as he spoke, brushing his hair back. "You are a work of art. Some people just don't know how to appreciate that."

Elias shook his head. "You're the only one that thinks that."

"I'm the only one that needs to think that." Now he grabbed at his hair, forcing him to tip his head back and look up at him. Elias usually would mind the aggressive contact that much, but with the engines blaring around him and already tight knot of anxiety in his chest, it only made his heart sink in his chest.

"August, please," he whimpered, before August could open his mouth to say anything, "please I'm so nervous already please don't grab me that way." He was surprised as August instantly loosened his grip, grabbing his face gently instead.

"So pretty when you beg like that," he hummed, "I missed hearing my name come out of your mouth."

Elias ignored the comment, instead dropping his head against his chest and closing his eyes.

He tried to sleep for the most part, but everytime he drifted off he was reminded of where he was and who he was with, and he woke up again with a new bout of anxiety. At one point he sat up and August was sleeping, and for a few moments he debated flagging down a flight attendant to help him. It wasn't worth it. Nothing was, at this point. Instead, he turned toward the window, peering down at the blue ocean under them. They were so high up, and so far away from anything. From Tyson.

At that, he started crying softly, covering his face to try and quiet his sniffles. It was so god damn hopeless now, he was going god knows where with the closest thing to evil he'd ever experienced, nothing mattered anymore, life might as well be over.

"What's wrong, angel?" August said, grabbing his shoulders gently. Elias let one muted, broken sob out, then curled into himself to try and stop any more. "Elias, what is it?"

"I'm so s-scared," he whimpered, "I'm terrified."

"We're ok, baby. We'll be there soon, we're perfectly safe." As he spoke, he stroked Elias carefully, trying to calm him down. When Elias shook his head, he realized what he meant: Elias was afraid of him. Not of being in the air, not of the plane crashing, but of being stuck with August. He sighed and pulled him closer, until his forehead was pressed against his shoulder. "I'm gonna be more careful with you, bunny. I know I was really rough with you before, I know better now. You've got nothing to be afraid of. I taught you so well, you can handle a little pain, I know you can."

Elias was silent, and August was suddenly furious with him. He'd spent all this money, not his own of course, and time and effort just to get him and take him some place nice, and now he wasn't speaking to him? And here August was, trying to comfort him. As if he was worth the wadted energy. His hands grew tighter, and just as quickly as he began to console him, his voice became a threatening whisper. "Where do you get off on being afraid, anyways? You said it yourself, I'm the only one who wants you. You don't get to be scared, I'm going to do what I want to you and you're going to shut the fuck up about it. Understand?"

Elias bit back another sob and nodded quickly, waiting for August to let go of him. When he didn't, he just closed his eyes tighter and tried to calm himself. He counted to ten, but he still felt like screaming, so he counted to twenty. Then thirty. Once he was up in the 50s, he began to tic. He jerked against August, whining softly as he did. This was the worst possible time and place for an attack, everyone would look at him, August would be annoyed and ashamed, he had no where to go and hide while he waited it out. He was trapped, and that only made everything worse.

"Son of a fuck!" He gasped, trying, and failing, thanks to his hands that just never wanted to be still enough to be useful, to cover his mouth to quiet himself. Tears were still spilling down his cheeks, his whole body was shaking with the effort of holding back more profanities or punching the chair in front of him as hard as he could, like he knew he would if he wasn't biting it back with everything he had. People had already begun to swivel around and stare at him. He wished he could disappear.

"Eli, calm down," August warned him quietly, "don't shout like that."

"I'm so- bitch!- I'm sorry." He was crying harder now, embarrassed and scared beyond belief. He wanted to break the window and fall to his death, just to be away from all the stares. He ticced again, ramming the heel of his hand against his skull hard, and whined at the pain. "God damn it!"

August must've realized what was happening then, because he wrapped his arms tight around Elias to hold him still, rocking him a bit. Most of the time, August didn't seem to give a shit when Elias was like this. Sure, when his friends came over and they all laughed and amused themselves with it, August would join in. Sometimes he would try to make it worse, try to make Elias as embarrassed and flustered and anxious as he could just so they could all laugh at him when he couldn't help the awful things he was shouting or the strange sounds that he didn't know he could even make or the ridiculous movements of his body that looked idiotic, August told him a few times. Other than those times, he didn't seem to notice or care about them. Only a few times, when it was painfully obvious that Elias was hurting because of it, had August ever comforted him through it. And thank God today was one of those times, Elias thought, as he qstarted saying, "You're ok, Eli. It's all ok."

Elias sobbed, grabbing at August's arm desperately, trying to gain a little stability. He ticced for a few more long, painful minutes, and then grew exhausted against August and his tics turned from violent outbursts to small twitches in his hands and neck. August loosened his grip gradually, then pulled away completely to look at him. He wiped his tears away gently as he inspected him.

"You alright?"

He only nodded in response, then pulled his knees up to his chest to hide his face. People were whispering around them, he knew they were talking about him. He wished they could just get to wherever the hell they were going, get this shit show over and done with in one way or another. Elias couldn't help but wonder if it would end the same as last time, with hands around his throat and edges of his vision dark and such a distant pain Elias wasn't even sure if it was considered his own. He wondered if August was telling the truth and really was going to be more careful and try not to hurt him. He wondered what Tyson was doing right then; he was hoping that he was getting him help and dreading that Tyson was maybe celebrating the fact that Elias was gone again. It took everything he had and more to convince himself that Tyson wouldn't do that, that Tyson loved him (for whatever reason) and wouldn't stop until he was home safe (again, Elias still really couldn't figure out why). After he was able to cling onto that tiny sliver of hope, that Tyson would at least try, he was proud of himself. He kept repeating it to himself in his head : "Tyson will try to find me, Tyson will try to find me" as they flew hundreds of miles further from home by the minute.

The plane began to descend.

[cuddlepilefics]

Hii I really like your fics so I have another request.. A fic where Hyunjin is sick with a stomach bug (emeto) but he's alone at the dorms then he gets really sick and calls Changbin for help

Thank you

A hyung to help

 Fandom: Stray Kids

Sickie: Hyunjin

Caregiver: Changbin

 Noone’s POV.:

Hyunjin had been tasked with creating the entire choreography for one of their main tracks on the upcoming album. He felt honored because that was usually a task for his hyung Minho, so to prove his capability, the dancer vowed to himself to put in at least twice the effort. Knowing his determined side, it came as a surprise to no one when the dancer holed himself up in the practice room, barely replying to anyone’s texts and coming home late at night. Although Hyunjin got scolded by Chan multiple times, the leader couldn’t do much about it because his own behavior wasn’t any better. This was probably the only aspect in which he was a terrible role model. The entire group watched on with a frown, quietly observing how their friend run himself into the group.

The previous night, Hyunjin and Chan had coincidentally come back home at the exact same time, running into each other. “Jinnie, I thought I told you not to overdo it?” – “You did but you’re here at the exact same time that I am. Anyways, I just wanted to finish this up quickly. I’m done now and I’ll send you the video in the morning so you can judge”, the dancer yawned, dropping his practice bag in the hallway. They said goodnight and went to bed, not even showering but Hyunjin at least forced himself into a fresh shirt before falling into bed. He was out like a light even before his head hit the pillow, sleeping like dead. Waking him the next morning was a whole new level of difficult and it took everything out of his roommates to get as much as a hum and shrug out of him. Minho, who hadn’t had his morning coffee yet, felt his mood drop by the minute and at some point, just gave up, leaving Seungmin to drag the other’s lazy ass out of bed. The vocalist was a bit more patient with his hyung and gently pealed the blanket back before shaking the dancer’s shoulders again. “Come on, Jinnie-hyung. Everyone else is already up, we’ll be late. Plus, Minho is already pissed”, the second youngest of the group pleaded. His voice was at a normal volume, causing the other to whimper: “Stop, please. It – it hurts so bad.” – “Hyung, what hurts?”, Seungmin whispered worriedly, “Should I go get Chan?” – “Please, Minnie, please”, the older begged, close to tears. Promising, he’d be back as soon as possible, the vocalist hurried to find their leader with a very bad feeling in his gut.

“Hey, Seungmin said you weren’t feeling too great. What’s wrong mate?”, the leader asked sitting on the edge of his dongsaeng’s bed. Seungmin and Changbin were watching anxiously from the doorway, as the oldest tucked Hyunjin’s hair out of his face to get a better look. “I-I can’t move, everything hurts so much. My head is pounding”, the dancer confessed, biting his lip guiltily. Chan rested the backs of his fingers against the younger’s fore head before pulling away and speaking up, making sure to keep his voice low: “You don’t have a fever, so my best guess would be that you outdid yourself yesterday. That’s why your muscles are so sore and achy. The headache might just be exhaustion or you might be dehydrated from sweating and not drinking enough.” Hyunjin whimpered quietly, burying his face in the pillow and fighting back the tears threatening to spill. “I’ll talk to our manager to let you rest today, okay? Make sure to drink lots and maybe stretch or use a foam roll a bit later, if you can manage. I just need you to send me the video of the choreography so that we can go over that and try to maybe already learn the beginning, then you can teach us the rest when you’re better”, Chan continued, rubbing the younger’s shoulder comfortingly. The dancer nodded weakly, picking up his phone as Chan got up to make the phone call to the manager. As soon as he hit send, he turned the screen off again to avoid it hurting his head more.

Seungmin who had been watching the entire scene was now in a hurry to get himself ready for the day’s schedule. Changbin, who had been at the door too, was already prepared to head out and quickly fetched a bottle of water and a sports drink from the fridge, taking them back to Hyunjin’s room. “Hey, hyung said you need to drink. Do you think you can sit up?”, the rapper whispered, not sure whether Hyunjin was still awake or not. The younger was still awake, in too much pain to fall asleep that easily. With great struggle he tried to push himself into a sitting position, grateful for the older’s hand supporting his back. They sat there, side by side, as Changbin gently massaged his dongsaeng’s sore neck with his knuckles. The rapper spent the remaining minutes he had left till they needed to leave trying to sooth the dancer’s aches as much as he could before helping him lie back down and apologizing: “Sorry, none of us were allowed to stay behind with you.” Hyunjin hummed in acknowledgement. He had already expected this but still couldn’t help feeling a bit disappointed. “I’ll make sure to keep my phone on me and check my messages often, ok? Just try to sleep some more, you won’t even realize we’re gone”, Changbin chuckled, tapping the other’s pouting lips till they formed a small smile, “Get better, Jinnie.” – “Please be back soon, Binnie-hyung. I hate being lonely”, the younger yawned, cuddling back into the warmth of his bed. The rapper promised before leaving to follow his schedule.

It had been a mere two hours of Hyunjin drifting in and out of sleep when the dancer was awoken by a cramp in his abdomen. He drew his knees up to his chest, despite the protest of his sore muscles, reminding himself to breathe through the pain. His best guess was that he was suffering from hunger pains after skipping breakfast this morning, so he sat on the edge of his bed, waiting to gather the strength to walk to the kitchen to make himself some food. Sitting there, he shoved his phone into the pocket of his sweatpants, as a wave of heat washed over him. The dancer broke out into sweat, realizing it wasn’t hunger pains that were twisting his intestines in an irongrip. A wet burp made its way past his plump lips, bringing the ridiculously artificial taste of the sports drink with it. The fear of throwing up in his room and having to clean up later gave the poor boy the strength to scramble to his feet and stumble to the bathroom. He didn’t quite make it to the toilet, gagging a thin stream of blue liquid into the sink before his legs gave out. Choking on a sob, Hyunjin used his elbows to crawl over to the toilet. With one hand he fisted his hair at the back of his head to prevent it from getting puked on, while he gripped the toilet seat with the other hand, holding onto it like his life depended on it. His muscles burned as he tensed with another gag, the small amount of liquid he had consumed that day spilling past his lips and burning his throat. By now, his shirt was sticking to his sweaty back but he couldn’t care less, as retch after retch tore at his throat, barely bringing anything up but small, bitter amounts of bile. He really should have eaten something with his members this morning, at least he’d have something to bring up now. After a few minutes, the heaves slowly died down, leaving the dancer dizzy and breathless. Too weak to move, the sick boy fell asleep with his head on the toilet seat.

It wasn’t long though, when Hyunjin woke up, shivering in his sweaty shirt, the pain in his neck amplified by sleeping in a weird position. He couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, sobbing quietly as his head pounded from dehydration. His hyung had lied. He had slept twice now and was still alone, not feeling remotely better but so much worse. Shifting positions slightly, the dancer felt his phone in his pocket and pulled it out. He cringed as the screen burned his eyes but put up with it in order to call for help with his finger shaking over the dial button. It only took Changbin two rings to pick up. “Hey, feeling better after some more sleep?”, the rapper greeted cheerfully, only to be taken aback at the hoarse broken sobs on the other side of the line: “Can you please come home? I feel really bad…” His face dropped, as he jogged over to Chan telling him he’d need to go back to the dorm. “Why? What’s going on?”, the leader frowned, watching his dongsaeng hurriedly pack his things. “I don’t really know but something’s wrong with Hyunjin”, Changbin rushed, then much softer, directed at the phone he held between his ear and shoulder, “I’m leaving right now, can you tell me what’s wrong?” But he got no reply, repeating the question twice more till he heard the other’s phone clatter to the ground followed by a muffled heave. The rapper cursed, heart racing in his chest as he picked up his pace, jogging the few blocks back to the dorm building. Since the other didn’t pick his phone back up off the ground, Changbin ended the call, dialing Chan instead. Breathlessly and with as little words as possible, he explained why he had run off, while his feet pounded the sidewalk.

Hyunjin had pulled himself up into the same position as earlier, phone abandoned on the floor beside him. He was completely depending on the one trembling arm to hold him up, while the other had to keep his hair out of his face. After what felt like an eternity, he felt the hand in his hair replaced with someone else’s, carefully combing back a few strands that had strayed. “It’s ok, I’m here”, Changbin soothed, struggling to catch his breath. The dancer hadn’t even heard the front door open over his retches, desperately trying to bring something up despite not having anything in him anymore. After a few minutes of Changbin whispering sweet nothings into his dongsaeng’s ear, while supporting his side to stay upright and holding his hair, the younger finally caught a break, sinking into his hyung’s chest, spent. The older held him close, massaging his neck gently as the dancer cried into his shirt. “Hey, shh. It’s ok, I got you. Seems you were sick all along, hm? You’ve definitely developed a fever by now. Good you didn’t come with us”, Changbin rambled, trying to comfort the other, “Come on, I’ll take you back to bed.” Hyunjin nodded with his eyes closed and allowed the older to pull him to his feet. Almost as soon as he was upright, his head started to spin, knees buckling. “Whoa, don’t pass out on me!” The rapper’s voice sounded distant in his ears and he felt himself being lifted into a pair of strong arms.

The next thing he felt was being placed down on his bed. Dizzily, the dancer blinked open his eyes to meet his hyung’s concerned ones. “You with me?”, the older hummed, “You’re really pale. The younger only shuddered helplessly, bringing up his arms to hug himself against the cold. “Let’s get you out of that sweaty shirt and into something warmer. Don’t worry, I’ll help you”, Changbin promised, gently pulling the damp fabric off and replacing it with a large hoodie of his own. He guided Hyunjin’s achy arms through the sleeves, understanding they felt way too heavy for the other to lift them himself. “Binnie”, the dancer muttered, “Why does everything have to hurt?” – “That’s probably the fever, Sweetie. It makes you achy all over”, Changbin cooed, easing his dongsaeng back down and covering him with his blanket. “Do you think you can stomach some water?” As expected, Hyunjin shook his head, wanting nothing more than to sleep off what was making him hurt. Sensing this the rapper whispered: “Rest. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. Do you want me to rub your back or stomach?” – “C-Could you rub my back? Just please don’t touch my stomach”, came the sleepy reply. Of course, the older complied.

It had been almost three hours and Changbin had put his time to use, preparing some plain rice porridge. He knew how depleted his dongsaeng was of both fluids and nutrients. Before he had fallen ill, he had pushed his slim body to the limits, neither eating nor sleeping enough in relation to the endless hours of dancing he put it through. With the bowl in one hand and Gyu in the other, the rapper made his way back to Hyunjin’s room, expecting the other to still be asleep. Instead, the dancer looked at him with watery eyes, believing his hyung had left, despite his promise. “Hey, you’re awake”, the older smiled, placing the bowl onto the nightstand next to the bottle of water that was still there from the morning, “Do you think you can handle some plain porridge? Your body needs the energy to recover, plus, if there was something in your stomach, I could give you some painkillers.” Again, another sad headshake: “I really can’t eat that right now. It’ll just come right back up.” Changbin sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed, holding Gyu in his lap. “Look, I brought you some company, Jinnie. Yeah, I know it’s ridiculous but he always makes me feel better so I thought he could do the same for you if you cuddle him for a while”, the dark rapper explained, blushing and looking at his hands before handing the plushie to his dongsaeng, who accepted it with a small smile. “Thank you, hyung, I bet he will”, the dancer mumbled.

They stayed like this in comfortable silence till Hyunjin��s stomach gave a painful grumble. “Do you need to be sick again?”, Changbin frowned sympathetically. The younger shook his head, despite his skin losing color quickly. He really didn’t want to throw up again. The older had his doubts, so he assured: “It’s ok, if you need to get it out, get it out. There’s a trashcan next to your bed.” – “Will you hold my hair?”, his dongsaeng forced out between grit teeth, slowly losing his fight. “Of course. Hyung got you, don’t worry”, the rapper hushed, helping Hyunjin roll onto his side, who gagged weakly over the bin. As promised, the older kept his hair back, playing with it in a soothing manner. Expectedly, there was not much for the dancer to bring up, besides some stomach acid and bile. “Sweetie, I really think you’re done. There’s nothing left in you. Let’s lie back down”, Changbin cooed, drying his dongsaeng’s tears “I’ll be right back, I’m just going to clean this out. Can you hold onto Gyu for me?” The younger gave a teary nod, immediately opening his arms, as soon as Changbin returned. The rapper placed the trashcan next to the bed before settling under the covers next to Hyunjin, taking the sick boy into his arms. “You did so good, I’m so proud of you”, the older praised, slowly reaching for the water bottle, “Can you try to have a few sips for hyung?” This time the dancer relented, drinking a few tentative sips before cuddling back into Changbin. The rapper gently played with his hair, hoping for Hyunjin to fall asleep quickly before his stomach could decide to reject the small amount of water. The dancer soon drifted off in Changbin’s arms while holding onto Gyu. The rapper hummed ‘hyung got you’, cradling the younger’s burning body till the rest of the group returned home.

[anythingandeverything1d]

The tape (part 5)

Part: 1, 2, 3, 4

“(y/n)...we owe it to ourselves don’t we? I know I owe it to you....I want to make this work.... Just come home....”

You bit your lip and hugged your arms to your chest. You didn’t know what to do. You wanted to go with Harry, to work things out, see if you could get over the hump in your relationship. Yet you also didn’t want to get hurt again. You didn’t want to feel that pain all over again when you woke up in the morning. Harry took a cautious step towards you and your eyes dropped to the floor. Your heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute. You felt like you were going to drop over dead at any minute. You took a deep breath and looked up, your eyes locking on his. “Okay...” you mumbled biting your lip in uncertainty.

Harry’s smile was worth the decision. He was grinning ear to ear, a sigh of relief escaping his mouth. He even had a tear forming in his eye that he quickly wiped away. He didn’t know what to say he was so surprised and happy with your answer. You took a step forward, trying not to react to the reaction he was having. You may have agreed to go home tonight, but you were not going easy on him. There was no way you could at this point. Harry didn’t risk a conversation or any more questions. He opened the passenger door for you, still smiling. You climbed in, bucking in and watching Louis house pull out of view from your sight. It was around a 30 minute drive to Harry’s and you had no idea what to say. He didn’t either. He kept looking over, opening his mouth to speak and then deciding against it. He hummed along to some music but other than that the awkward silence spoke for itself. You were almost to his house when he cleared his throat and turned the music down. “Do uh, do you wanna pick up some dinner or have you eaten already?” You opened your mouth to speak but he stopped you. “Nevermind, you’ve probably already eaten that was a stupid thing to ask.” He shook his head and looked back at the road with a frown.

“Actually, food would be good.”

“It would?” Harry looked over with a hopeful smile and you nodded laughing at him. Harry laughed and looked back at the road. “I’m sorry” he sighed. “I just don't want to mess this up..its like our first date all over again.” 

You laughed and looked over at him with a raised eyebrow. Your first date with Harry had been a disaster. The two of you were supposed to go out for dinner, of course that was hard to do when you were dating a guy in One Direction. Harry had taken you to a restaurant close to the arena where people attending the concert that night had also chosen to go. You couldn't even get a table to eat, let alone get out of the building after entering. It took so long for security to push through people and come to your aid that you had missed dinner entirely, leaving both of you ravenous during the concert that night. “I vaguely remember that date ending pretty well...” 

Harry nodded and bit his lip. “I had never been so hungry in my life, I would've gladly eaten anything that night.” 

“Cheese crackers were quite the meal.” You laughed harder remembering the details. After the concert, Harry had been so bummed with how your date had gone, he declared the two of you would be having dinner in the bus. The only food left in the bus that night was a pack of cheese crackers. You and Harry had split the package, staying up all night and talking about life, the future, and how your relationship could only get better from there. 

“I can’t believe I let that happen to us.”

“I can’t believe I let you have the second date.”

“Guess I was pretty lucky back then.” Harry stopped talking as he pulled into his driveway. He parked the car and looked over anxiously. “Are you sure youre okay with this? I can take you back to Louis’ if youre feeling like this isn't okay....”

You thought for a second and then opened the door and climbed out. “I think you were right. We need to talk, we need to see what we can do, if we can do anything....”

Harry nodded and followed behind you as you walked into the door of the once very familiar home. You breathed in the smell and felt instantly at peace. Nothing had really changed. Harry had left the place a little messier than normal, which was no surprise really given everything going on. Your finger trailed along the hallway wall as you walked into the living room. You smiled, a sense of home overcoming you. You had decorated and designed the house. It had almost destroyed yours and Harry’s relationship since you had polar opposite tastes but together you had compromised on the look, modern but homey. The kitchen was disgusting. Dishes piled in the sink, food on the counters, and a pair of boxers on the floor. Harry noticed the face you were making and watched you move your eyes from one mess to the next. “Sorry...I’ve been meaning to clean up but things have been-”

“I know. It’s okay.” You smiled and he nodded, relieved you didn't press the issue any farther.

You sat on the couch, pulling your favorite pillow to your body. It felt familiar and right, being back in the house, and even back with Harry who was quickly throwing dishes into the dishwasher. “So, what did you want to order for dinner? “Is pizza okay?”

“Yeah thats fine.” you mumbled looking around at all pictures on the wall. Pictures of you and Harry, touring the world, snuggling in bed, going to concerts, hanging with the guys, hanging with family and friends. All the times that you had been so happy. Those were the days you would give anything to go back to.

After ordering the food, Harry took his place on the couch next to you. He lifted your feet and placed them on his lap, almost as if nothing had changed in the last few weeks. He looked over and smiled until he remembered that things had changed. He carefully set your feet back on the couch and scooted over a bit. “(y/n)-” he was about to say something else but the doorbell was frantically being rung. Harry sighed and stood up with a confused look. “That was the fastest I have ever had pizza delivered..”

You jumped up, grabbing plates from the cabinets and setting them on the counter. You didn’t hear anything but Niall came running into the kitchen out of breath. “(y/n) wait-”

“Niall?” you jumped back confused as he ran towards you. “What are you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Niall what the hell.” Harry followed quickly behind, seething in anger.

“(y/n) you shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t be with him.” He looked over at Harry and shook his head. “Harry you don't deserve her. You don't even deserve to have her here in this house right now. You ruined what the two of you had and there’s no point in even trying to pick up the pieces. You destroyed her. She spent the last two weeks trying to get out of bed, eat, and act normal again. Why can’t you just let her go? It would be better for everyone if you just gave up like we all told you to do weeks ago.”

“Wait a second-” you tried intervening but Harry took a step forward.

“I ruined the relationship? You know what. I definitely fucked up, but what actually ruined our relationship was the fact that the sex tape leaked and we never had a chance to discuss it before it blew up all over social media and I wonder who the hell did that?”Harry was fuming. He didn’t even look over at you, he was focused on Niall who was staring back just as intently. “Why don’t we talk about that Niall? Or do you want to play the good boy act still, Mr. Hero.” Harry shoved Niall backwards into the table.

“What is going on?” you asked looking from one boy to the other trying to step between them. Niall grabbed your hand moving you behind him but Harry stopped that, grabbing your free hand and pulling you back. You were stuck in the middle like a tug of war rope until Harry shoved you to the side. 

“Niall released the sex tape to the press.” Harry looked over at you with a furious expression.

You looked over at Niall with tears in your eyes. “What?”

Niall didn’t say anything he just moved towards Harry, pushing him back and then punching him in the gut. Harry groaned and pushed him back, spitting, “Tell her Niall. Tell her what the hell you did. Tell her why exactly our relationship is fucked up and destroyed. Tell her who caused the pain that she’s been feeling all this time.”

Niall tried another punch but Harry blocked it. “You did. Youre the one who cheated on her and ruined the relationship!” Niall shouted at Harry. 

“I may have cheated but I didn’t publicly humiliate her.”

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on?!” you screamed stepping between the two once again and putting your hands up. 

Niall gulped and looked over guilty. “(y/n)...”

“No.” You backed up. “No. What the hell is happening.” You looked at Harry who sighed and gently took your hand and sat you down on one of the kitchen stools. 

Harry was running his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out what exactly to say. “I cheated on you. That part is true, and the girl fucking recorded it as a sex tape yes, but I had an arrangement that it would never be released. I didn’t even know about the tape until later on and I made sure (y/n) that no one would see it. I was going to tell you all about it, about everything, there just wasn’t a right moment... Then Niall found out...” He looked over at Niall and then back at you continuing the story. “He said I should tell you...and I was going to I swear...I was just waiting for a time when it was just us...a time where we could work it out together without others being involved but Niall got pissed that I hadn’t told you and somehow, he got the girls info and she gave him the tape ‘for safe keeping’ and he posted it to the magazine who then shared it with every other outlet. He was the one who released everything to the public. The private source with info about us and about the tape that was.listed in that article...yeah that was him too. So while I am guilty about what I did, Niall who’s been playing superhero with you these past two weeks is also is guilty.”

You looked over at Niall. There was no way. It wasn’t true... Out of all the boys Niall had been such a big help in getting you back on your feet. He was one of your best friends, he would never. “Niall...” Niall said nothing, he just looked down. You turned back to Harry with more tears. You didn’t even know what to say. How does one properly react to that conversation. Your boyfriend admits to cheating, hiding it, and then that his best friend, one of your best friends as well had the tape, knew about it the whole time AND gave it to the media to release for the world to see? It made absolutely no sense.

“Tell her Niall.” Harry growled again.

Niall looked at you with a pained expression on his face. “You have to understand...”

“You actually did that....you released the sex tape...”

“It was a mistake and I can explain-”

“NO.” You stood up yelling. “BOTH OF YOU JUST STOP!” you were crying now. You looked at Niall, “Why?” You dropped to the ground crying and Harry knelt next to you concerned. Niall stood there trying to figure out what to say. You looked up and waited. 

“I-I don't know. Harry wasn’t fessing up, I thought the tape being leaked would force him ta tell you the truth...I wanted you ta know that he had cheated...I wanted you ta realize that you deserved better than him, that you-”

“What? Deserved you?” you laughed angrily through the tears. “Harry messed up, and thats something he will always have to work at making better. But instead of coming to me as a friend concerned, you released it to the media? You watched my whole life be destroyed by the videos, the memes, the comments, and you thought that was a good idea? You out of anyone should understand that the media is never the answer.”

“(y/n) I-”

“Get out.” 

“Wait I-”

“Niall get out! I don't want to do this right now. I don’t want to deal with this...”

“Why don’t I jus take ya back to Louis’ and we can talk on the way and I’ll-”

“No.” You stood up, glaring at him. “I’m staying here tonight. With Harry. I want you to leave. Now.” You stood up and shoved Niall hard, your hands colliding with his chest. You were pissed and upset, a combo that never led to good things.

“(y/n)-” Harry interjected trying to diffuse the situation.

You looked over at him. “He purposefully hurt us. Hurt ME. I don’t want him here. I don’t want any part of this anymore. I don’t want to be involved anymore..." You pushed past both of them, running up the stairs and into the bedroom, the place you once used as a safe haven. You stopped dead. The room wasn’t the same. The walls were a different color, there was a new bed, bathroom accessories were scattered on the floor and a new dresser was set up against the wall. The only familiar thing in the room was the canvas of you and Harry in Paris on your anniversary, hanging on the wall. You dropped to the floor, nothing was the same anymore, not even your bedroom.  Harry came running up afterwards out of breath. You looked up at him through tears. “Why did you do it? Why did you have to cheat on me?” 

Harry dropped down and pulled you into his lap, rocking you slowly trying to calm you. “Babe I’m sorry....I don't know why I did it. It was stupid. You were gone and the girl came over. She made the first move, and I should've stopped it but I missed you so much, I just wanted to feel loved again...”

“I didn’t make you feel loved?”

“You did- most of the time....but there was that period of time where you kept going home and and I don't know it just felt like you were running away from me, from us. I wanted to talk to you about it but we never had a chance too....and then I cheated and I couldnt bring it up after that...and I wanted to tell you I swear. I was looking for a good time where we could work through it...talk about it and process it together. But then Niall found out and then he kept threatening to release it and I got stressed and then he actually released it....Part of me wanted to sit down with you that morning...instead of going to management and just tell you everything. I was going to but then we got into that argument and you locked yourself in the bathroom....and then it was too late. (y/n) I’m so sorry....I’m sorry for it all. I can’t make you forgive me. I can’t tell you to stay. But I can tell you I mean every word I have ever said to you. I love you so much. I would do anything for you and I want to do whatever it takes for us to get back to where we were. You have always been the girl I’ve wanted to marry...youve always been the one...”

You looked up at his green eyes, the green eyes that normally held nothing but happiness and love but were now red and puffy from crying all of the nights you had been away. They were full of pain, anxiety, and anticipation now, something unfamiliar to you and something you never wanted to see again. You leaned up, pressing your lips to his. He froze, surprised by your actions but quickly warmed up, moving you to a more comfortable position in his lap and kissing you back. His lips tugged at yours until they parted enough for his tongue to push through, swirling around yours. Your arms tangled into his shirt and his hands cupped your face, ensuring that your lips didn’t stray far from his at any given point. You knew this wasn’t the answer to everything you were feeling, but in the moment, something about it felt nice, familiar, and warm. You let all of the feelings you had been holding back push forward, matching Harry’s energy and pushing farther. You sat up, straddling his lap and never pulling your lips from his. After a few minutes, you pulled away breathing heavily and trying to catch your breath. Harry was out of breath as well, his forehead resting against yours, his warm breath gently falling down your face. “I want to forgive you. I just don’t know how..” you whispered between breaths.

Harry nodded and kissed you softly, hugging you tight to his chest. “We will do it together, just like we did everything else.”

---

Okay okay sorry its been so long. I tried to get this back on track though. What will happen with Niall? Will Harry and (y/n) work things out? Find out in the next part ;)

xoxo

[vapid-slut]

A Dove Reborn; Ch.1

Warning[s]: Character death, Mentions of violence, murder, demonic possession [kinda, eh yea]

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: Reader, a catholic schoolgirl, is brought in as a sacrifice. It isn’t until she’s payed a visit in hell that she’s given a second chance at life and vengeance

A/N: This is my first michael fic so enjoy my shitty excuse for writing I’ve been think about writing this for awhile so I really you like it. Whoever you may be [this blog is a ghost town]. Also there may be some typos because it’s late and a bitch is lazy. xoxo, go piss girl

Darkness.

That's all you saw as your limp body dragged across what felt like wood. You cried out, hoping someone would have the heart to help you. Instead, they laughed at your naiveness. Before you could think any longer, a voice interrupted your thoughts. "This is y/n she has devoted her entire life to being a good little christian. Pathetic." The woman spoke with hatred in her voice as you heard others make noises of disapproval and disdain. Your breath was shaking, you knew there was little hope for you, they didn't care about you or your life, and why should they? After all, you were just a shy little girl whose own family sent her away to a convent to get rid of her.

The skin on your body crawled as you felt the burning stares of everyone gawking at your practically naked form. The woman continued to go on about how silly you were for choosing to believe in a god who couldn't even protect you now, her voice overlapping with your screams and pleas. "Well, let's not waste any more time. The honor of tonight's sacrifice shall go to one of our newest members, Jim." If you were uncertain of your fate before, this solidified it. Tonight was the night you were doing to die.

You pleaded for your life though it was ineffective, your body tensed as you felt a hand across your face remove a few stray hairs. Before you knew it, the blade held along your neck glided with ease, your eyes began to tear as you took what would be your last few breaths. There, on the floor, your once pure body laid lifeless, upper half drenched in your blood.

Eventually, the group of heinous worshippers dispersed, some going off to eat, others making their way home. All of them seemingly unbothered by the presence of your corpse. Having your body on display for everyone to see was truly humiliating. You were to be gawked at, mocked, and then forgotten. The story of your life, no one had ever taken you seriously. Your mother hated you the moment she birthed you. Your father never stayed long enough for you to remember him. With all the time you had spent laying there, your body began releasing a foul odor, making it clear that you had to go.

The blue-eyed boy towered over your figure, his head turning slightly to face the much shorter woman with hair like that of a raven. "What would you like me to do with her, Michael?" The woman named Ms.Mead asked with a calmness to her voice, almost as if she did this often. Michael sighed, letting his shoulders fall slightly. "It's such a shame she would've made a great pet." He paused, taking a breath. "Bury her or throw her in the river for all I care, whichever is easiest." He said sternly as the woman nodded, the blonde turned on his heels to exit the once full room. 

-----

You woke up from felt like an eternal sleep. Rubbing your eyes to look around the room, it all felt familiar. The soft lilac walls and crisply made bed, this was your home. Albeit one you hadn't seen in a long time. It had been almost seven years since your mother dropped you off at a convent. You observed the room with confusion, wondering why you were here.

Suddenly the door opened, revealing your strung-out mother. Your head tilted in confusion. "M-mom?" You reached to touch her, but out of nowhere, she raised the back of her hand to strike you across the face. You brought your hand to your cheek, eyes welling up with tears until suddenly she froze. 

Everything was happening so suddenly that you cowered in fear as another woman entered the room, dressed in white, she flashed you a smile. The girl reached to hold your hand, but you immediately flinched. "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you." She said, her voice soft and calming. You rubbed the tears away from your eyes and took hold of her warm hand. "Who are you. W-where am I?" The girl helped you to your feet. "My name is Mallory, right now you're in hell. But I'm here to take you back t-" Before she could finish, a dark figure walked in. "Ah, ah, ah. You don't get to break satans rules, my love."  The man appeared with strawberry blonde hair and green eyes.

"Asclepius, this isn't any of your concern," Mallory said, letting go of my hand as she inched closer to the man. "It is actually, I too have been tasked with bringing Y/N back to the mortal realm." You watched as the two bickered as if you weren't in their presence, tired of sitting around like a church mouse, you decided to speak up. "Okay, what the fuck are you talking about?!" The two turned to look at you, almost shocked that you had interrupted them. Asclepius sighed before stepping closer to you. "This might seem hard for you to comprehend, but you're dead. Your purity made you a viable sacrifice for satan." He paused for a moment, reading the confusion on your face. "This place is hell."

You scoffed, finding his comment ridiculous. That was until you remembered the darkness, the voice of that wretched woman, and the coldness of the knife. "Holy shit." You said, your head falling as you realize your predicament. "So, what do you two want from me?" Mallory turned on her heels. "Well, I was sent to retrieve your soul and bring it back to your mortal body until he showed up." Asclepius rolled his eyes at the brunette, annoyed by her response. "My boss, satan, has been displeased with his son's work. He thinks you'd be a fine companion, someone to give him a push to bring about the end times."

All of this sounded insane. It was simply too much to process. Mallory could sense the fear coming off of you. "Good thing is that won't happen, so long as I have a say in it." She reached to hold your face as a form of comfort. But before you could react,  her body fell limp as the red-haired man retrieved his arm from her back, her heart in his hand as you shrieked in terror. "Shhh Y/N, there is no need to fear me, soon you'll be back to normal soon." His voice overlapped with the hissing of snakes as they slithered towards you.

There was no place to run, so instead you back into one of the four corners of the room, even then, you knew it was useless. Pain pierced through your skin as the vipers sank their teeth into your skin, venom mixing with your blood. You tried to scream, but nothing left your throat, your mind slowly fading in and out of consciousness. The man gave you a half-hearted smile. "Send Michael my regards." And with that, your world faded to black once again.

-----

The skin on your body began to prune, given the countless days you had spent floating in the river. Suddenly your heart began to beat as blood rushed through your veins, your eyes opened, the water starting to irritate them. You mustered up what little strength you had left and made your way to the surface, gasping for air.

Swimming was never your strong suit, but you noticed that there was land nearby, so used your bit of energy to make sure you got there. Once you reached the dry land, your body fell, your back making contact with the soil. You wanted nothing more than to sleep. But something caught your attention, a scent. One you weren't all that accustomed to, you felt something within, almost as if your body was fighting itself.

Your body acted against you as you stood, drawing closer to the smell. As you crept, the voices become much more vivid. One, in particular, was much too familiar. "This sacrifice is much more special than anyone we've done before." You thought for a moment, and your mind brought you back to the night you lost your life, your cries and pleas ignored just like the unlucky girl they had chosen tonight. 

You yearned to do something, but you were no match for them. That was until you watched as your skin went pale, bits of it turned to scales. Part of you was horrified, but part of you relished in this new power. Before you made a move, you heard a much deeper voice speak. "I sense something, someone, a  powerful presence." Suddenly your body was completely taken over. Your once [y/e/c] eyes had now turned to a crimson red. Without thought, you suddenly appeared behind one of the cloaked figures, something you weren't aware you could do till now.

All the rage and bloodlust inside of you reached a boil. As your arm plunged into the woman's chest, you retrieved your hand to find her heart in it, and with no hesitation, you took a bite. The look of shock on everyone's face was pure bliss. You stood, wearing nothing but the underwear you had on the night of your death, covered in blood. Many of the cult members attempted to stop you, but it proved useless as you swiftly discarded them.

The few worshippers that remained had fled, hoping to keep their lives. All that was left were the corpses and Michael, along with Ms. Mead. The blonde boy gave a look of astonishment. Before anyone could break the silence, your skin reverted back to its previous form, the red in your eyes fading as your body fell to the ground. Michael approached you, kneeling to be closer to your face, cupping your chin, now drenched in blood. 

"Magnificent, my father must have sent you." His face formed a wicked smile. You were far too weak to respond and watched as he removed his cloak and placed it over your cold body. With that, he scooped you into his arms, continuing to burn into you with his gaze.

His voice was smooth and mellow as he whispered into your ear. "Let's get you home." You shook your head in disapproval and tried to push yourself off of him, but there was no point. It was clear who had the upper hand. Slowly your consciousness began to fade once again. It was clear how exhausted you were, and eventually, you drifted into a slumber. Your fate left in the hands of a man who watched you die.

----

okay wow can’t believe i actually finished a fic for the first time, this feels great! I hope you enjoyed, let me know if you wanna be tag okay toodles!

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden: Chapter 2

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

Materlist or read on AO3

1.9k words

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

Lancelot was once again mounted on his horse with the girl leaning on his chest, though this time she seemed mostly conscious. After some riding, she turned round to face him, as best she could.

“What is your name, Sir Knight?” Her voice was still raw but she spoke firmly.

“Lancelot. May I ask your name, My Lady?”

She smiled at this, and he returned a small one. “Miriam. I believe I have heard your name before, maybe you have passed through a village I have stayed in before.”

“Have you stayed in many villages before?”

Her face dropped and she turned around, facing forwards once more. Lancelot, not fond of the idea that he had offended the lady – Miriam – apologised. “I meant no offence My Lady, I only thought that talking might make you feel a little happier, but I understand that I was wrong.”

She smiled once more, though he couldn’t see, and she took a deep breath. It still hurt to swallow and she made a note that, if she were to go through this experience again, she would avoid consuming something that would make her vomit as she had to the night before. While her arms throbbed, she was at least used to that feeling and could cope with it, but a throat that burnt as hers did was quite the inconvenience.

“I’m not offended, Sir Lancelot. My past is just not something that brings me much joy.” They sit in silence until she adds “But I appreciate the sentiment. What makes you happy, Sir?”

“Your insistence in calling me Sir certainly makes me smile.” She laughs at this, but it quickly ends in another painful round of coughing. He hands her his waterskin which she gratefully takes.

“You must have been on some fun travels as a Knight of the Round Table? You seem to be a chaotic bunch.” Now it is his turn to laugh, she doesn’t know the half of it. She enjoys the feeling of his chest vibrating on her back and lets herself lean against him a little more. It has been so long since she had been this close to someone so kind.

“You could certainly say that. Well, there was this one time that Merlin, the King and I…”

He told her lengthy tales of his and his friends adventures, skilfully avoiding all mentions of Merlin’s magic, and for the first time in months (or was it years?) Miriam felt content. Not happy, not by a long stretch, but her mind was quiet, and she felt safe against the kind Knights chest. Feeling safe is such an underappreciated sensation.

--

The sun had set before they stopped for the night which made setting up camp rather a difficult task, but Merlin managed, as he always does. He made a small fire with the help of a silent spell and prepared the evenings meal as quickly as he could before arranging everyone’s sleeping mats. He gave the girl his mat and she nodded her thanks in return. He was yet to check her bandages or even ask her name, but he wasn’t sure if she would want him to. She had been so attached to Lancelot (who could blame her though, he thought) that he worried she wouldn’t want to listen to him. He was no strong knight, and he was likely to hurt her a little as he cleaned her wounds again, so he thought it best to at least wait until she had eaten.

Dinner was well received, mostly. Gwaine, Merlin noticed, was still not all there and hardly touched his food. He decided to do something about it.

“After so long being friends, do you really think now is when I would poison your food, Gwaine?” After a beat, the Knight turned to his dark-haired friend and forced a pathetic attempt at his usual grin.

“What’s wrong? You’ve hardly talked since this time yesterday, and I know you didn’t fill your waterskin earlier.”

Maybe not a win then, Gwaine frowned.

“If you won’t talk to me then I shall just sit and keep you company, though I will have to tend the girls wounds once I have built up the courage to.”

“Miriam.” Gwaine murmured, his voice gravelly from so little use.

“Who?”

“The girl, her name is Miriam. I heard Lancelot call her that.”

“You’ve been listening to everyone talk, then?”

“Occasionally. Contrary to popular belief, I do listen.”

“I know you do.” They sit, watching the fire. “You should eat some more; you know how your head hurts and the world spins when you’ve not eaten enough.”

Gwaine grunts in response but eventually eats another spoonful, face scrunching up in response.

“It’s not actually bad, is it?” Merlin frets.

Shaking his head, Gwaine does his best to respond naturally, “No, not bad, eating just isn’t so appetising at the moment.”

Merlin stares at him, mouth open. Upon his loud exclamation of “What?”, the rest of the Knights look up at the pair too. Gwaine’s cheeks burn, not having the brain power to joke his way out of this one. He takes another large spoonful, forcing it down while making direct eye contact with Merlin. “There, happy?” He puts his still practically full bowl by the rest in need of washing and returns to his mat. “Now, if it is alright with you my friend, I would like to sleep so would you kindly remove your lanky arse from my spot?” He flashes the shocked Merlin a sarcastic smile and lies down.

The rest of the camp stares at the not-so-jolly Knight’s back and then at each other. This is rather an unprecedented situation. Even when mucking out the stables as punishment for creating chaos, Gwaine is still more, well, Gwaine-like than he is now.

Merlin, still a little shell shocked, sits next to Miriam where he asks if he can look at her wounds and does so in silence.

--

Arthur lay on his back, staring up through the canopy, with Merlin curled into his side. The boy had given Miriam (he liked that name, it suits her) his roll mat and so, as the generous king he is, Arthur had offered Merlin some space on his. It wasn’t weird, he was sure any of the other knights would have offered the same if he hadn’t got there so fast. Maybe, he began to fret, he offered too fast. Does it seem like he wanted the raven-haired man in his bed with him? It’s not like he didn’t want him there but not like that, that’s what the blonde told himself, anyway. Maybe, if he said it enough, he would believe it.

Miriam, sat on the other side of the dying fire, watched the King. She could tell he was worrying about something, the way he tapped his fingers on his stomach and sighed every few seconds made it obvious. After a while, the pressure in her bladder got the better of her and she stood, making her way further into the woods to alleviate herself.

The King removed his arm from around Merlin and stood, grabbing his sword and following her, gesturing for Percival to stay where he was on watch.

Miriam had an amazing ability to disappear, he thought to himself as he strained his ears to find her. Suddenly, as he turned to his right, she stumbled into him, hissing as she hit her left arm against his chest plate.

“What were you doing?” he demanded, eyes softening as he saw the tears in hers.

“Fucking pissing, I wasn’t aware I had to ask permission for that, Your Highness.” She bowed dramatically, and then hugged her throbbing arm into her stomach, heading back to camp and leaving a flabbergasted king behind her.

He watched her as she went, stabbing his sword into the dirt in frustration. He didn’t mean to be rude and he certainly didn’t mean to hurt her like that. It had been a long trip and hopefully, he thought, he could make peace with her before they got back to Camelot. Sighing, he pulled his sword back out of the dirt and headed back to Merlin and, more importantly, bed.

--

The next morning, Elyan woke to Lancelot and Arthurs hushed argument next to him. He listened without opening his eyes, wanting to get as much rest as possible before another long day of riding. Lancelot seemed angry at Arthur for shouting at Miriam and hurting her? No, that couldn’t be right, Arthur wouldn’t hurt an already injured enemy, let alone a female guest. He opened his eyes, propping himself up on his elbows so they knew he was listening. They continued on at each other:

“She should have told Percival where she was going!”

“Did you tell her that she needed to do that? Have you even told us that we need to give everyone permission to empty our bladders? I can say for sure that I don’t want to know every time you take a piss behind a tree, Sire.” Elyan bit his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh at how much Lancelot sounded like Merlin there. His snort didn’t go unnoticed, and Arthur dragged him into the heated debate.

“Elyan, help us sort this, Lancelot here thinks I am a terrible king—”

“I never said that, I said that you hurt our guest, scared her, and told her off for alleviating herself.”

“—and I think that is, quite frankly, bullshit. Thoughts?”

Elyan stared at the two, eyes jumping back and forth as he tried to figure out the best answer. Of course, he agreed with Lancelot – Arthur didn’t exactly have much in his defence – but he couldn’t exactly disagree with his King.

“Have either of you talked to Miriam since last night?”

They both faltered. No, then.

“Maybe starting there is a better idea than asking the person that has been awake for mere seconds.” And with that, Elyan stood, dusted off his trousers and turned to leave the camp, “I’ll be behind that tree, nature calls, I hope that’s alright with you both.” And off he went, rolling his eyes as he did.

The day was not off to a good start.

Miriam, having moved as soon as she saw Arthur approaching Lancelot (who had been next to her that night), was sat next to a sleeping Gwaine. Merlin was right, he did have a headache, and he was hoping that more sleep would fix this (it wouldn’t). Finally giving up, he groaned and sat up, jumping slightly as he noticed the girl sat by his feet. She was staring at Arthur, looking bitter, and anxiously picking at her bandages.

Gwaine took a deep breath, psyching himself up, and shuffled so he sat closer to her.

“Hello.” His voice was deep and shocked her out of her seething state. She turned, analysing him.

“Good morning. You are Gwaine?”

He nodded. “Miriam?” She nodded back.

“What has the Princess done to get you in such a state?” At her confused look, he expanded, “Arthur.” She nods, smiling.

“He’s rather a rude one, isn’t he?” Gwaine’s face lights up at this, it is perhaps the happiest he has looked for the last two days.

“He has his moments, that’s for sure,” he pauses, watching his King, “But he is actually quite the just king, if you can believe.”

She squints at Arthur, looking him up and down, and hums – not sure she does believe.

[prismatica-the-strange]

Ugly Duckling | Chapter 2

Part 1 | Part 3

We were running to catch Greg and Tamara, when they opened a portal to God knows where, and jumped in, taking Henry with them.

        "No! No!" Emma shouted while David, her father, stopped her from jumping into what was only ocean now. "We have to follow them! There has to be a way!"

        "Not only do we not know where they went, but Hook stole the last bean!" Regina growled

        "I don't care!"

        "Without it, there's no way to follow"

        "There has to be," I argued. "We can't just let the, take Henry!"

        "They've taken Henry?" Gold asked as he and Belle showed up.

        "Yeah. You're the Dark One. Do something." David threatened.

        "Gold, help us." Emma all but begged.

        "There's no way." he shook his head, 'I spent a lifetime trying to cross worlds to find my son. There's no way in this world without a portal."

        "So that's it? He's gone forever?" I asked, defeated.

        "I refuse to believe that." Regina looked ready to kill.

        "What is that?" Belle looked past us, into the harbor.

        "Hook." 

~~~~~

        "What the hell are you doing here?" Emma asked as Hook stepped off his boat.

        "Helping."

        "Well, you're too late." Regina hissed.

        "Am I?" He raised an eyebrow in her direction.

        "I thought you didn't care about anyone but yourself."

        "Maybe I just needed reminding that I could."

        "Enough waiting around," Regina urged, stepping towards the Jolly Roger, "let's go."

        "Go? Where? I thought we were saving the town." Hook asked, confused.

        "We already did." David scoffed.

        "We need to get Henry." I explained, "Greg and Tamara took him through a portal."

        "Well, I offer my ship and my services to help follow them."

        "Well that's great, Hook, but how do we track them?" Regina asked.

        "Leave that to me." Gold interjected, "I can get us to where we need to go."

        "Well, let's do it." Mary Margaret gave a curt nod and we followed her onto the ship.

~~~~~

        "So, are you done trying to kill me?" Gold looked at Hook.

        "I believe so."

        "Excellent. Then you can live." He magic-ed as weird globe into his hand and pricked his finger, his blood dripped onto its surface and showed him an image.

        "Where is that? Where did they take Henry?" Regina pushed.

        "Neverland."

        Emma gave Hook the bean and he chucked it into the water. Pulling the strap of my Jessenger bag close, I gripped part of the rigging, something told me this want going to be a smooth ride.

~~~~~

        Not long after we arrived in the Never-sea, Gold fricked off on his own. Told us to stay where we were and he'd get Henry and get back.        

        It'd been almost an hour when there was a thud against the side of the ship. The ship began to rock as Snow and David tried to keep it steady.

        "What is it a shark?" Emma asked.

        "A Kraken?" David added.

        "Worse," Killian corrected, taking the helm, "Mermaids!"

        "Mermaids?!" Emma shouted.

        "Yes, and they're quite unpleasant."

        "You think? snapped as one of the mermaids hit the boat.

        "I'll try and outrun them."

        "How many of them are there?!" Emma looked over the rail and the screeching increased.

        Regina managed to catch one and throw a fireball at the water where the rest of them were, effectively scaring them off.

        As the rest of them bickered about what to do, the mermaid blew into a shell, summoning a storm. As the heroes fought, the storm got worse until Emma realized what was happening. The fighting was making the storm worse and to stop them and get their attention, she jumped off the side of the ship.

        Everyone stopped what they were doing to save her since she nearly drowned. Once she was back on the boat the storm had stopped altogether, but the Jolly Roger was too damaged to keep going. So we got it close enough to shore that it wouldn't capsize and waded our way to shore.

        Cold and wet, we clambered onto the beach, and they started going at each other... again.

        Emma gave a small speech and we were off to find Henry.

        We started a trek to a high peak where we would be able to see where Pan's camp was.

        "Jesus, it's hot." I huffed, pulling off my hoodie and tying it around my waist.

        "You alright?" Mary-Margaret asked, falling back to walk next to me.

        "Just a little floored, it's been an exciting couple of hours." I laughed.

~~~~~

        Well, the ridge turned out to be a bust since, in the past thirty years, it'd grown a bit. We backtracked a bit and made camp.

        It was when you tried to sleep on Neverland that you realized it was impossible. The thick air was filled with the sobs and cries of lost boys. Only, the adults couldn't seem to hear it. I pressed my head against the rock I was leaning against and pushed my headphones against my ears. 

        I watched Emma get up, and I gave her a questioning look.

        "Going for a quick walk," She mouthed and I nodded, leaning my head back against the rock and shutting my eyes.

        She was gone for a moment when I felt eyes on me. I glanced around and didn't see anything, then Emma stormed back into camp with a paper in her hand.

        Somewhere on the paper, there was a map that would reveal itself when Emma accepted 'who she really was.'

        She and the rest of the group worked on that while I kept an eye around the camp.

       Maybe I wandered a bit further from the group than I should have, but this was the last thing I expected.

        A sharp yelp bubbled out of my throat in surprise. It was until a few seconds after that I cried out a pained "Shit!"

        A spear was pinning me to a tree THROUGH my left shoulder, and blood was beginning to drip from where it stabbed me. A lost boy stepped out from behind a tree, a dark smirk on his lips.

        "What the actual Fuc-... Ah!" Yelling hurt worse than I thought it would. 

        The fucker started laughing, "Poor little girl! Did I hit you?"

        "Little gi- Bitch you fucking IMPALED ME!"

        "Well, that's what you get coming to Neverland." He got up in my face and before I could slap the smile off his face he grabbed the spear and pressed up.

        A scream ripped through me and I instinctively kneed him in the crotch. He let go and dropped to the ground.

        "You little bitch!" He pulled out a knife and went to stab my thigh when someone caught his arm.

        "What do you think you're doing?!" An unfamiliar voice hissed. They pulled the boy to his feet, turning their back to me as they reprimanded him. "You know Pan wants them alive!"

        "Yea but she-"

        "You wanna piss off Pan?" They, who I assumed was another Lost boy, grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting him off the ground. "Now get out of here, I'll clean up your mess."

           He threw the boy into the dirt and the shorter one scurried away.

        With an annoyed sigh, the new lost boy turned back to me. He was pale, had light blonde hair, and had a club by his side. He studied me for a moment before pressing his hand into my right shoulder.

        "This is gonna hurt." He muttered before gripping the spear and harshly pulling it out of my shoulder.

        "FUCK!" I fell into his chest and the hand that held me still wrapped around my waist.

        The moment his skin touched mine we both went rigged and goosebumps erupted across my body. The world froze.

        He was so much taller than me, I felt so small this close to him. The clunk of the spear against the ground pulled me back to reality.

        I hissed in pain as I pressed my hand to the hole in my shoulder that was now gushing blood. "Shit shit shit shit shit!" My mind was racing, tears falling from my eyes, as I tried to figure out what to do since at this rate I was gonna bleed out, and fast.

        I could barely come up with a coherent thought when I suddenly lifted into someone's arms. I looked up, wide-eyed, to see the face of the same lost boy, his hood falling back. His eyes were such a pretty shade of gray, they flickered to me.

        "What?" He snapped, and I realized I was staring.

       I looked away as it began to pour.

        He cursed and made a sharp turn, heading into a cave in a nearby cliffside. 

        He all but dropped me on the cold ground and went to make a fire, muttering about how this was going to be a while. My eyes wandered my surroundings until everything started to become fuzzy and my head started to spin. I looked down at my blood-soaked clothes and my eyelids began to feel really heavy.

        "Hey!" I felt someone shake me and I struggled to look at them. "Open your eyes damn it!"

        I groaned and went to push them away, but my arms felt like lead.

        They grabbed my face and growled, "Wake up!"

        I managed to open my eyes and met the face of the blonde lost boy, frustration filling his beautifully stormy eyes. I was light-headed and the word 'Pretty' slipped out without a second thought. His eyebrows scrunched and his hand let go of my face, moving to my injured shoulder.

        *3rd Person P.O.V.*

        He pulled his knife from its sheath and cut her sweatshirt up the middle. He watched as confusion grew in her glassy eyes, the bloodless would kill her if he didn't work fast. He peeled the sweater off her, leaving her in just her sports bra, and tore the, mostly, clean sleeve into a makeshift bandage.

        After efficiently wrapping the wound, he pulled her to rest against him as he tied the bandage off in the back. He went to move away but froze when she made a small noise and nuzzled into his neck. That when he realized the position he put himself in. It'd been a very long time since he's been this close to a girl, let alone one this cute, and half-naked.

        As carefully as he could, he took off his cloak and spread it on the ground before gently laying her on it.

        He sat across the fire from her and watched her breathing as thunder cracked over Neverland. Something inside him hurt like he was missing something he'd never noticed missing before. 

               *Bradey's P.O.V.*

        I woke up on the cold floor of the cave, the events leading up to me getting there a little fuzzy. I noticed my favorite sweatshirt torn up and bloody on the floor, and there was a shirt draped over me. I sighed and sat up, pain shooting through my left should. I winced as I pulled the shirt on, it smelled like campfire, pine, and something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I liked it. Snatching up the remains of my hoodie, I started back for camp.

        "And where did you wander off too, love?" Hook asked as I trudged back into camp. "And what in the Hell are you wearing?"

        "Long story," I huffed, leaning against a tree to catch my breath.

        "There you are!" Mary-Margret fussed, coming over to check on me. She gasped when she saw the tattered shirt in my hands. "What happened? Where's all this blood come from?!"

        I pushed down the shoulder of the shirt I was wearing to show her the bloodied bandages, "Must've wandered into target practice," I smirked before my knees gave out.

        "Bloody Hell," Hook caught me and sat me on the ground, while Mary-Margret quickly got Regina who started healing.

        "You'll still have a scar, but you'll live," She explained and I thanked her. "How did you already not die? This wound is hours old."

        "I think one of the Lost Boys helped me." I said, "I'm not sure, the details kind of got lost on the blood loss."

        "And that's his shirt?" Hook motioned to what I was wearing.

        "I guess so. It's actually pretty comfy." I admitted.

        *3rd Person P.O.V."

        "So how was your little adventure, playing nurse?" Pan asked, appearing next to Felix, not far from camp.

        "You said you wanted them alive."

        "You're not wearing a shirt." Pan pointed out. "I want them alive for now. Don't go getting attached, Felix."

        The taller boy's eyes narrowed, "I'm not."

        "Keep it that way."

[fuckinuchihas]

omg am i too late for the love story thing? HI KEL ILY!!! ok i have a crush on bokuto and hmm,,,, “there was only one bed” or “mutual pining” are probably my faves!! i like most things tho ksjs (ok i love u thank u 🥺💋✨)

Okay listen...the Bokay thirst is strong in this house. I wanted so badly to give you some good raunchy smut my dear but the word count got away from me so maybe a sequel? We shall see! Enjoy my love my everything!

*Also that neck tho* 🥵

“No he doesn’t!” you say, giggling into the rim of your beer.

“Oh he does. I’m telling you, either Diachi is working after hours as a stripper or he has thigh-centric workouts.

“Bo! Oh god, no no no, Diachi would never,” you reply, leaning into him a bit as you continue to laugh at the mental image of strong, dependable Daichi doing something crazy like cage dancing.

“I’m serious, baby! Look at these bad boys, this is how you get volleyball muscle,” he says, smacking his thigh in emphasis. “I work just as hard as anyone else, no way that guy has so much damn muscle on his thigh without some kind of somethin’ somethin’ y’know what I’m saying?”

“Stop,” you say, playfully plugging up your ears until his hands reach out to pull yours away and just...linger there.

The skin of his palms warm over your fingers for a beat, two, three...and you think this might be it, he might actually make a move.

He pulls away and nervously rubs at the back of his neck. “Whatever. Until he proves to me that he’s not a stripper, I’m standing my ground.

“That’s not how it works at all,” you say, but you can still feel his warmth lingering on your hands so it's a much more sobered chuckle than the drunk giggle you let out just a moment before. “You’re silly.”

A loud clap of thunder shakes through Bo’s apartment and a streak of lightning lights up the sky through your window and you frown.

“I should get home,” you say. You never fail to enjoy the time you share with Bokuto, he’s in some, okay all of your favorite memories. Still, you’re not sure if you can control yourself if you don’t leave.

Bo stands up effortlessly and heads toward the door.

“You’re not going anywhere tonight...look,” he says, gesturing toward the window.

You get up and take a look and of course the storm is beyond anything you’re capable of driving in, let alone walking.

You start to feel a little flustered. It’s too much for you to stay here with him, those big golden eyes staring at you and that cheeky smirk on his lips...you’ll never survive it unscathed.

“I’ll call-”

“Stay here, you can take my bed. I’ll be fine on the couch,” he says, and then you look at the couch.

It’s maybe half his size.

“No I can’t- Bo you’re twice as long as that couch!” you say, chuckling as you gesture at the couch. “I’ll stay out here you take your bed.”

Wait-when did you agree to stay?

Fuck.

Bo bites his lip, “No I can’t do it. I’ll never be able to sleep if I know you’re out here on that shitty couch.”

“You literally just tried to convince me you would sleep on it and now you’re calling it shitty?” This boy, trying your patience.😑 “Look, why don’t we both just sleep in your bed. It doesn’t have to be weird if we don’t make it weird.’

You’re gonna make it so weird.

You want him too much to not be weird in his bed but it doesn’t look like you have many options here. The couch really isn’t that comfortable, not even to sit on and you dread what it might do to your back if you actually lay down on it.

“Well well well, just what is going through that pretty head of yours, shorty?” Bo asks, but you just flip him off and head down the small hallway to his room.

You’ve been here before, but not at night so it feels different.

“Do you have a shirt I could borrow...don’t want to sleep in jeans,” you ask, not really thinking anything of it because you’ve worn his jackets and shirts before and it was never a problem but now he’s blushing and stuttering at you like you’ve just asked him to wear his underwear.

“I uh..I mean-yeah,” he says, clearing his throat as he grabs the first thing he finds in the closet and tosses it at you.

“Thanks, I’m just gonna...change,” you say, nodding at him quickly before turning to leave.

You take a few deep breaths and try to calm your rabbiting heart once you’ve changed and used one of the spare brushes under the cabinet to clean your teeth. It's impossible to resist the urge so before you’re under his watchful gaze again, you pull the collar of his shirt to your nose and breathe in his scent. You groan, he always smells so fucking good, it’s torture.

Another few calming breaths and you force yourself out the door, otherwise you’ll sleep in the bathtub and while that’s not entirely unappealing considering your options, you tried not to make a big deal out of it and you don’t want to hurt Bo’s feelings.

“Okay, all done if you need it,” you say, knowing he’ll want to do the same.

When he leaves you put a hand to your chest and just as you knew, your heart is pounding quickly.

“It’s fine, it’s no big deal,” you tell yourself softly, and then slide underneath the blanket on the furthest edge available. You know that Bo likes the left side by the door because you dropped by and woke him up one morning before his flight.

It’s still one of your fondest memories to call back because he looks so cute and soft in the mornings after he just wakes up. It’s the one time he’s not all chaotic energy and loud noises. In the morning he’s calm and still a bit sleep hazy, and you want nothing more than to cuddle into him and just melt at the cuteness.

When he comes back you stiffen for just a moment and then you realize it’s Bo. You’re safe and everything is fine.

He flips the light off but then turns on a lamp beside the bed.

“Kay...I can sleep on the floor if you’re uncomfortable,” he says, one last attempt.

“Come to bed, Bo.”

It takes a few beats but he slides under the covers behind you purposely not touching you despite the small space.

You’re pretty sure he’s not even fully on the bed.

When you turn over you see one leg and maybe part of his buttcheek has made it but the rest of him is very much still out of bed.

You chuckle and shake your head, tugging at his arm until he actually gets into bed and finds a reasonable amount of comfort.

“Why are you so nervous? It’s just me…” you ask softly, putting your head against his shoulder.

“I’m not-okay I’m a little nervous but you would be too if you were in bed with a hottie like you!”

You grin, “You think I’m hot?”

“Yeah, duh…” Bo says, with an exaggerated eye roll.

“I thought maybe you looked at me like a little sister or something,” you say, biting your lip. It’s one of the only reasons you can think of for him holding back all this time.

“Wait what?-No, dude nooo,” Bo says, avidly shaking his head. “No way are you my sister,” he says, with an exaggerated shiver down his spine.

“All this time...you never made a move, Kou.”

“I uh-I wasn’t sure you-y’know, wanted me to.”

You look at him with no small amount of surprise, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” you say, genuinely smiling. “Bokuto Kotaro afraid of lil ole me? How cute!”

“Hey, I’m not afraid! I just didn’t want to piss you off,” he says, humphing and almost crushing you as he goes to cross his arms out of habit. “You’re a pain in the ass when you’re mad.”

You huff at him but shimmy closer.

“Bokuto Kotaro sitting in a tree, s-c-a-r-d-i-e!” you tease.

He lets out a low growl and before you can finish your full laugh his weight is pressed against you, your hands pinned to the bed as his golden eyes find yours.

“If one of us is scared, it’s you,” he says, “Not laughing now are you, babygirl?”

“Kou-” you start but he starts to pull away and you have to stop him.

Your legs wrap around his waist and you buck up against him. “Not scared, Bo...not of you, not ever.”

“If you keep teasing me like this, I won’t be able to control myself much longer,” he says, groaning at the friction where you rocked against him.

“Then don’t…” you say, finding his eyes again. “Give in, Bo. It’s okay, I-I want you, want this.”

“Are you sure?I-I don’t want to ruin what we have…’ he says, and glances off to the side. That must have been where the fear was hiding.

“Hey, look at me,” you say, hands free enough to pull his chin up. “You are my best friend. You will always be my best friend. Do you want this, Bo?”

“More than anything…”

“Then take it, we can work out the rest in the morning.”

“God you’re perfect,” he says, and then dives in for a kiss.

You giggle as he peppers them all over your face, so genuinely happy to have you. Whatever that might mean.

★・・・・・★・・・・・★・・・・・★

MASTERLIST

[impala-dreamer]

King Midas

SPN FanFic

~Dean gets hit with a curse and Y/N makes an unloseable bet.~

Dean x Reader, Sam

1,815 Words

Warnings: CRACK! It's just Crack, little smut chatter. Nothing too bad.

A/N: Sometimes you just need something ridiculous... Do hope you enjoy... ;)

Feedback is Gold ~ My Masterlist ~ Become A Patreon

Bright light settled into a golden glow that pulsed around the room. Glass peppered the Oriental rug like shards of deadly confetti and a cold breeze blew through the now open windows; all shattered by the witch’s blast.

“Ya know!” Y/N’s voice rang through the room, annoyance clear in her yell.  

A big hand reached for her and she took it, allowing Sam to help her to her feet. “You OK?” he asked gently, hazel eyes brown in the gilded light that set around the edges of the disheveled room.

Y/N looked up and sighed, squinting up at him, aggravated. “Do you have any idea how many curses were flung at me before I met you two dumbasses?”

Dean laughed from the floor across from them and popped up on one elbow. “A few, I’m guessing.”

“None!” she yelled back, pulling a long piece of glass from her hair. “None.”

Sam held in a laugh, knowing she would calm down soon. She often called them dumbasses when she was annoyed and tired. It was like a pet name. A really rude, insulting pet name.

“Sorry, Y/N/N.” Sam swiped his hand across her shoulder and shooed away some dust and glass. “You cut anywhere?”

Y/N shook her head. “Nah, I’m fine. Just tired of getting knocked out by random colorful blasts. How come every witch we meet has the super rainbow explosion power?”

He shrugged and laughed under his breath. “I wish I knew.”

From the floor, Dean cleared his throat. “At least you didn’t take the rainbow bomb in the chest.”

“Oh shit, Dean,” Y/N cringed. “Are you alright?”

He waved a dismissive hand and then flipped over onto his stomach, pushing up on his hands and knees. “I’m fine. Can’t keep me down.” As he spoke, his lower back twitched painfully and he bowed, belly headed back towards the floor. “Gah!”

“Yeah, you’re fine,” Sam sniggered.

Dean grit his teeth and pushed hard on his hands, splaying his palms out flat on the rug. “Shut up, Sam!” A hot tingle spread down Dean’s right arm, starting at the shoulder and pushing down like warm syrup into his fingers and out the tips. “Oh…” Dean looked down and watched as the warmth left his hand and pulsed against the floor, fibers of the carpet heating up beneath his touch. “What the-”

“Dean?”

He turned to see Y/N’s annoyance gone, replaced with concern. Her eyes were big, her brow creased with worry. He shot up quickly, immediately forgetting the weird tingle.

“I’m good,” he said, shooting her a smile. “You guys hungry? I’m hungry.” He adjusted his collar and pushed passed them both, nearly knocking Y/N over as he headed for the door. “Saw a diner down the block. Daddy needs bacon.”

He may have needed bacon, but actually eating it didn’t seem like it was going to happen.

As soon as they left the witch’s house it started to happen; her curse taking on its form, showing off for the trio.

It started with the door knob but it was harder to notice since it was already metal. He lingered there, turning the knob in his hands as he waited for Sam and Y/N, and the tingle returned to his body.

Next was the iron railing coming down the front steps. They stood on the porch for a moment recounting some random information about the case, Dean leaning on his hand against the cold black metal. Again, the tingle flowed from his shoulder straight down until it left his hand.

If Dean had bothered to say something or hang out for a few more seconds, he would have seen what the warmth was doing. But as it was, he was hungry and failed to see that the things he touched turn to gold in his wake.

When shining gold began to overtake the weathered leather of the steering wheel, the Impala swerved dangerously on the country road and Dean screamed, driving off into the shoulder to park and panic.

“What the fuck!” Dean’s hands flew up and away from the wheel, his precious car becoming a victim of some quick working alchemy as he watched on in horror. He braced himself against the back of the seat, tingling beginning again as he clutched the upholstery.

“Well, that’s new…” Sam said curiously, leaning over the bench seat to look at the wheel.

The backseat squeaked as Y/N moved forward, looking over Dean’s heaving chest to see the gilded circle. It looked as if he had gold-leafed a perfect handprint on the leather.

“Whelp, guess we know what the curse was,” she said with a small laugh, sitting back and crossing her arms.

Still struggling to catch his breath, Dean’s head spun to look at her over his shoulder, brows creased, lips in a pout. “What!”

“You got the Midas Touch, my friend,” she said, nodding to the hand still clutching the back of his seat.

Sure enough, below his hand was a hard patch of pure gold.

Dean made a dying bleat noise and pulled his palm away from the seat. “Son of a bitch! My car!” Instinctively, he rubbed at his cheek, forgetting or perhaps not realizing what the strange tingling in his forearm foretold.

“Dean!” Sam barked, slapping Dean’s hand away from his face.

“What?” Dean looked from Sam to his own palm and then to the newly golden interior and his gears turned. “Oh, fuck me…”

“Not until this curse is over, Big Guy,” Y/N laughed, clicking her tongue.

Dean cast an annoyed glance in her direction. “This isn’t funny, Y/N!”

“Kinda is…”

“Is not!”

“OK, both of you shut up!” Sam commanded and the Impala fell silent. “Let’s just deal with this logically.”

Dean looked back at Sam like a boy who just found out there’s no Santa Clause. “How, Sam? How? How am I gonna eat? I need to eat.”

Y/N bit her tongue to stifle a laugh but couldn’t help making a comment. “He’s worried about food,” she said under her breath. “Wait till he has to take a piss…”

Dean found a bit of comfort in the old diner, hiding away in a booth in the back, old red vinyl seat molding to his tired ass as he sat there, forlorn and helpless. Every so often, Y/N would take pity on him and lift his burger to his lips, doing her best to feed the poor soul and not laugh in his face.

“So, it looks like the curse will wear off in twenty-four hours…” Sam swiped through the lore book on his laptop and shrugged. “Not too bad.”

Absentmindedly, Dean picked at a piece of bacon on his plate, jaw dropping as Sam seemed to brush off his predicament. “No big deal? Sam...I’m dying here. I’m gonna have to wear mittens to bed.”

Y/N shook her head. “Wouldn’t the mittens just turn to gold?”

Dean rolled his eyes at her. “Why are you so nasty this week?”

She sneered. “I don’t know. Just tired of witches and their bullshit.”

“Same,” Dean agreed with a sigh and lifted the bacon to his lips. He took a bite and immediately spit it back out. “Oh, come on! Not the bacon!”

“Everything you touch, Dean. Bacon, the car, your shirt, you! Everything.” Sam over enunciated the last word just to drive the point into his brother’s head, but Dean just slumped in his seat and pouted some more.

“This blows.”

Y/N grinned and looked at Sam. “Twenty bucks says he’s got golden junk by morning.”

Dean sat straight up and gasped. “Excuse me! I can control myself for twenty-four hours!”

“No, Dean,” she laughed. “You can’t.”

Dean lounged on the bed, fully clothed atop the comforter, propped up by pillows. He sat with his palms up, hands resting on his thighs. He was exhausted.

“Pssst!”

Sam looked up from his laptop slowly, distracted by Dean’s less than quiet call. “What?”

“What if…” He paused, looking towards the bathroom door behind which, Y/N was changing for bed. “What if I accidentally like grab her boobs while I’m sleeping?”

Sam laughed, head shaking as he wondered why Dean was such an idiot sometimes. “Just don’t touch her.”

“Yeah, but,” Dean whispered loudly, “what if I do?”

“Then that would suck,” Sam said simply. “So don’t.”

Another look at the bathroom door and Dean groaned pathetically. “Can I sleep with you?”

Sam scoffed. “What? No!”

Dean growled and pouted. “You suck.”

“Ready for bed?” Y/N appeared in the doorway, night shirt loose around her thighs but tight across her chest.

Dean drooled. “Uh, yeah.”

She hopped into the bed beside him and pecked his cheek sweetly. “No touchy.”

Her smile was both enticing and mocking, but Dean couldn’t decide which was more appealing. The idea of not being able to touch her all night was driving him mad.

“No touchy,” he echoed, silently praying that his hands would just fall off.

“Night, Sam!” Y/N called over Dean’s chest.

“Night,” Sam murmured back.

“Great,” Dean sighed as Y/N lay down and snuggled up against his side, her plump ass warm against his leg. “Just...great.”

“Oh, fuck…”

A moan tickled Y/N’s ear and she stirred.

“Goddamn, baby...mhm… just like that.”

Sam’s dream began to fade.

“Oh, shit. Shit. Shit!”

A scream woke them both and Sam jumped from his bed to bang on the bathroom door, Dean’s frantic yell making his heart race. Y/N bolted up out of bed too, right behind Sam, her breath short with worry.

“Dean!” Sam banged again, giant fist rattling the entire door. “What’s going on?”

The noise died down and the door opened up, bright white light spilling into the dark room.

Dean stood in the bathroom, his face twisted with guilt and pain, his shorts tented boldly. Y/N looked down to the fabric pop-up and saw a hint of gold glinting from the flap.  

Sam saw it too and shook his head. “Dean… no.”

Y/N rubbed her tired eyes and turned away, headed back to bed. “I called it!” She shook her head and plopped back down into bed, gathering up her pillow and closing her eyes. “I fucking called it.”

Sam looked down at Dean and sighed. “One night, man. One.”

Dean shrugged innocently and laughed at himself. “I… I couldn’t help it. I’m a man. I have urges, Sam.”

“Yeah, well now you got a golden dick!” Y/N called from the bed.

“This sucks.” Dean’s shoulders fell and he looked down at his 24 carat cock.

“Hey,” Sam said, trying to make him feel a little better, “at least you didn’t grab her boobs…”

Dean grunted and pushed passed his brother to go lay down. “Yeah… shut up, Sammy.”

2019 Forever Tags:

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[mermaidxatxheart]

It’s Always You {1}

Ok. Chapter One is finally here. I hope you enjoy it. Yes, I posted a sneak peek a couple weeks ago. This has since been updated, revised and is extended.  Thank you so so so so so much to @everythingisoverrated​ for putting up with my insanity on this one. I made the mood board myself specifically for this story. If you want to be added or removed, send me an ask.

Pairing: Bucky X OFC

Word Count: 1964

Warnings: Mentions of suicide, angst, trauma, car accident. Sarcasm like you’ve never seen. Oh boy.

Summary: Ava has been in a car accident. When she wakes up, she’s surprised to find Captain America waiting for her. Will she be able to help him find the answers they’re both looking for? 

Series Master List

The last thing I remember is the set of headlights coming directly at the left side of my car. The screeching of metal twisting, the hollow popping as the door panels crack and the shattering of glass are the last noises I hear. 

 Silence.

 Blissful. 

 Pain-free.

 Silence. 

 The next sound I become slowly aware of is a quiet beeping. A steady, even rhythm. 

It almost lulls me back to sleep. But then I’m aware that something isn’t right. I try to roll over but my whole body is immobilized, held down, and I begin to panic. That quiet beeping becomes frantic, picks up speed. I can’t breathe. Something is blocking my airway, something hard forced down my throat. 

 “She’s awake!” A voice yells and there’s more noise. People talking over people, hands touching me, and my panic ratchets up another notch. 

 The hard plastic something is pulled out of my throat, leaving it burning and raw, but at least I can breathe. I gasp for air and my throat feels like it’s on fire.

 “If you can hear me, you need to calm down. You’re safe, you’re in a hospital.” A voice says gently, a hand pressing on my shoulder.

 I struggle to open my eyes, but for the first time I realize I can’t, they’re being held shut. 

 I try to lift my arms but they feel like dead weight and won’t move.

 “Easy, now. Just relax.” The voice says again and I feel fingers against my eyes, but there’s a gap in the sensation. It takes me a long minute to realize that it’s because I can’t feel all of the fingertip. 

 Something like tape is pulled off my eye and I wince as pain flares. But now I can open my eyes. One only opens a little, it’s mostly swollen shut.

 “Your eye kept popping open, it was unnerving some of the staff.” The voice says again, gentle and feminine. 

 I try to turn my head to look at her, but my neck won’t twist. “What happened to me?” I croak. My voice is scratchy and rough, and speaking even that much hurts like a bitch. 

 “Don’t try to move. You’re very lucky to be alive. Can you tell me what you remember?” She asks, stepping into my view. She’s very pretty, a dark-skinned beauty with obvious Western Asian features and a British accent. 

 “I…” I try to think back before waking up, but it’s just a big black void. Faces appear, my parents, my sisters, people I used to know, my boyfriend. “I was talking to my boyfriend... on the phone, I think.” I start, my good eye drifting down over my body. 

 It looks like the entire thing is in a cast. My legs are elevated, the left one in a complicated looking brace and the right one in red plaster. My arms are suspended in front of me, needles stuck along the fingers and thick bandages wrapped from my palms up to the middle of my forearms. My right arm is in a cast up to the middle of my bicep and I can feel the massive bandage over my right shoulder.

 “And what were you doing at the time?” The doctor asks. Her face is kind and I want to answer, but thinking back that far hurts my head. 

 “I don’t remember.” I close my eyes, trying to calm down. 

 “That’s alright. Maybe with a little rest, it will come back to you. Can you tell me your name?”

 “Ava. Ava Fonesca.”

 “That’s really good. I’m Doctor Haskin. If you need anything or have any questions for me, you can always have a nurse page me.”

 “Can’t you tell me what’s the matter with me?” I ask.

 She glances towards the door for a moment. “Someone is here to see you. We can discuss your injuries later after you’ve had more time to heal.” She says, stepping outside.

 I nearly choke at seeing the man who enters the room. He’s tall, he’s blond and those baby blue eyes seem to look right through me. They roamed over my injuries at first, only a natural instinct.

 Captain America.

 “Hi,” He says once his eyes meet mine.

 “Hi,” I reply, feeling ridiculous. I should have a better comeback.

 “Do you know who I am?” He asks.

 “Don’t tell me you have amnesia, too. The whole world will fall apart if Captain Steve Rogers can’t remember who he is.” I reply, my jaw aches so I’m careful to keep it mostly shut.

 He grins. “Finally, a sense of humor I can get along with.”

 “You get along with everybody.” A female voice says as a woman comes into the room. She has red hair, bright green eyes, and a petite figure.  

 Wanda Maximoff.

 “Don’t let him lie to you like that.” She says with a friendly smile at me. 

 I don’t respond, mostly because I’m trying to keep my panic under control.

 “How are you feeling?” Steve asks.

 “Like an elephant is sitting on my chest,” I admit.

 He gives a small chuckle. “I’ve been there. It will go away.” He stalls for a minute and I can tell the small talk is over.

 “What are you doing here?” I ask.

 “Direct, to the point. I like her.” Wanda says, turning a little to Steve. 

 “We need to talk about what happened to you.” 

 “I don’t know anything,” I answer honestly.

 “Okay. So, let’s talk about what you do know.” He pulls a chair close to the side of my bed.

 “Literally nothing. Don’t tell me you’re going deaf already.”

 He chuckles. “I’m sure that’s not true. You must know some stuff. You’re one of the best biochemists in the world, from what I hear.” He smiles and I have to try hard to resist rolling my eyes.

 “Well, sure, I know stuff. But you’re not referring to what I know like that. You want to know what got me here and honestly, I have no idea.”

 Wanda snorts in a very unladylike way behind Steve. My eyes slide to her. Does she not believe me?

 “Okay.” He takes a deep breath. “So, do you remember going to work?”

 I close my eyes, trying to focus. “I remember a conversation.” I want to rub my face. It’s frustrating to not have the mobility I should.

 “With who? With your boyfriend?” Steve asks. 

 “No, with... with a friend. I think I sent him something.” I frown. 

 “Was this friend Michael Chambers?” Steve asks gently.

 I try to nod, but can’t. “Yes. We went to Harvard together.” It dawns on me that I never said Michael’s name. “How did you know it was him?” I ask, my eye one good eye trained on Steve.

 “He was found dead in his apartment two weeks ago. The same night you had your accident.”

 Everything in me stops cold. The beeping next me flatlines for a minute before it picks up double time.

 “Huh, I didn’t think that actually happens.” Wanda comments. Steve shushes her.

 “Dead? How?” I ask, my face going numb.

 “Self-inflicted gunshot wound.” He says it gently, like it will hurt less if he gives me those big blue puppy dog eyes.

 This takes me a long time to comprehend. I can’t even picture what he’s telling me. A world where Michael isn’t alive doesn’t make sense. “He killed himself?” I say finally. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 “That’s... that’s not right.” I say, a cloud fogging up my mind. 

 “Suicide is never easy to process,” Steve starts. 

 “No, that’s... he was...” The taste of metal fills my mouth and pain flares on my tongue. “N-no-”

 “Ava? What’s wrong?” Wanda asks, reaching a hand towards me.

 My whole body goes rigid, locking everything into place, and then it’s like my nerves spark and explode. Everything on my bed and my body start shaking at once as my body tries to start convulsing. 

 Thankfully, I don’t feel anything after that as the darkness comes for me again.

 Steve

 “What do you mean you don’t know when she’s going to wake up?” I snap at Doctor Haskin. I’m aware that it’s not her fault, but I need to yell at someone.

 “Brain injuries are complicated. Honestly, we were surprised she even woke up the first time. With that many concussed areas, it was a miracle she was able to open her eyes, to speak, to remember anything at all. With the extent of her injuries-it’s a damn miracle she lived. Her body is healing the best way it knows how.”

 “It’s been two months since you put her into that coma.” I cross my arms over my chest, fists clenched underneath.

 “Yes, and half of that since we took her off the medicine that induced it. I’m telling you, Captain Rogers. She may never wake up. You need to prepare yourself for that possibility.”

 “She has information we need.”

 “Then you should have thought about that before your interrogation sent her into a bout of seizures,” Haskin says with a glare before turning on her heel and storming away.

 “Curvă,” Wanda mutters, looking after her. 

 I ignore her comment and turn to the girl in the bed. She had been on the verge of telling me something important, I’m sure of it.  And whether the doc is right and I did cause this, or I didn’t and it would have happened anyway, I still feel awful. That’s probably why I’m still hanging around some random hospital in Maryland.

 She’s pretty, I can see it better now that the swelling on her face has disappeared. Her high cheekbones give her face almost a heart shape. Her lips are a little pouty, a petite nose rests just above them. The scars that crisscross her face don’t take away from the natural beauty, and I hope that when she wakes up, because she just has to, she’ll see it that way too.

 “Do you think I should...” Wanda trails off, giving her slender fingers a wiggle.

 I look at her and shake my head. “No, whatever is going on with her, it should be her telling us. I think she might be pissed if she finds out we were digging around in her brain. Hopefully, she should wake up naturally from it. If she’s going to at all.”

 “Captain.” A Wakandan accent reaches my ears and I turn to see one of the King’s Guard, the Dora Milaje.

 “Yeah?”

 “The woman’s partner is here again. Shall I send him away?” She asks.

 “No, let him come up. He should be able to say his goodbyes.” I sigh and rub a hand over my face. This was always the hardest part. 

 The man, Jonathan, comes down the hallway, flowers in his hand.

 “No change yet?” He asks. He always asks.

 “No. I just spoke with the doc. Doesn’t look too good.” I tell him, trying to soften the blow.

 “Yeah, they always say that, don’t they?” He steps into the room and sets the flowers in another vase. “She just doesn’t know Ava like I do. She’ll wake up, you’ll see.” He bends down and kisses her forehead. “Won’t you, baby? You’ll come back to me.” 

 Wanda makes a face and turns away. I also turn away, feeling even more guilty. 

 “Come on. Let’s go get some food. We can come back tomorrow.” I say to Wanda, pushing away from the window and heading for the door. 

 “Yes, please. I cannot watch a grown man call a grown woman ‘baby’. It’s pathetic.”

 “What does Vision call you?” I ask with a smirk as I hold the door open for us.

 “Wanda.” 

 I tip my head back and laugh loudly. “Of course, I honestly don’t know what else I was expecting.”

Chapter 2

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@katiew1973​ 

[aestheticseungmean]

Bad Boy

Idk what this is...

Bad boy Minho has his eye on you but you despise him. What happens when an ex forces you to pity him?

———————————————————

Minho was the school’s bad boy dancer that the girls went crazy for. Of course, with any girl at his disposal, he had a new flavor every week. None lasting longer than ten days. Every girl dreamed of him, well, every girl except you. You kept to yourself, always ignoring the suggestive looks Minho gave you. When he talked to you, it was always to tease you. You’ve left him speechless a few times before. Like the one time you got out of the shower to see who was at the door. Minho made a snide comment to which you responded: “Keep your dick in your pants.”

You woke up to the sound of Minho’s alarm. How funny you two were next-door neighbours with only paper-thin walls separating you two. Sighing, you got up and got dressed in shorts and an oversized shirt. It was a Saturday so nothing to do except go to the bookshop. Part of it was because the cashier was cute and the other part because you needed more books. You walked out the door with your keys and wallet. A buzz vibrated your leg and you pulled out your phone. 𝙏𝙬𝙤 𝙪𝙣𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙩𝙚𝙭𝙩𝙨. The first one you opened was from your friend, Chan.

C̆̈h̆̈ă̈n̆̈n̆̈ĭ̈ĕ̈

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗼 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲?

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗻 𝗽𝗶𝗴𝘀 𝗳𝗹𝘆

𝗪𝗵𝗮𝘁𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿. 𝗜’𝗺 𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴.

You sighed and turned around towards Chan’s apartment and started walking. Ultimately, you decided to open the next message and groaned when you noticed the sender.

🅸🅳🅸🅾︎🆃 🤬

𝗪𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝗶𝗻𝗴?

𝗪𝗵𝘆 𝗱𝗼 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗰𝗮𝗿𝗲?

Rᴇᴀᴅ

You muttered to yourself. “Asshole. Why ask me a question if you’re going to leave me on read.” “Why text you when I can tell you?” The noise made you halt. Slowly you turned around. “How do you even have my number?” “Jisung.” You rolled your eyes. Of course. Jisung and his big mouth. “I’m heading to Chan’s for your information.” He laughed. “What a coincidence! So am I. We can walk together.” “I’d rather gag on a spoon.” He playfully pouted. “Why a spoon? I’m free.”

You sped up your pace and unfortunately, so did Minho. “Wait up babe.” You halted which caused him to crash into you. You turned around and pushed him back with your forefinger. “First of all, I am not your babe. Second of all, do you not have some girl to bury your dick in?” “No.” You rolled your eyes once again. “What’s wrong this time, too clingy? Ooh, no, is she kinkier than you. Oh, you finally found a girl kinkier.” He chuckled and backed you into a wall before putting his hand by your head.

“First, no. She was too bitchy. Second, the kinkier they are, the hotter. Something about you makes me think you’re a kinky bitch.” He moved his face closer to yours. “You come any closer and I’ll lick you.” “No you won’t,” he challenged. Minho moved closer and you licked his cheek. Immediately he backed away and wiped his face. “Did you just...lick me?” “Told you I would.” You left him standing there dumbfounded and kept walking. “44...45...46… Ah. 47!” You knocked on the door.

The door opened and a masculine body filled the doorway. “Put a shirt on, Changbin.” “It’s my apartment so no.” He took a bite of his apple and walked away. You closed the door behind you and laid on the couch. “Move your head.” “Why?” “So I can sit down.” You looked at Changbin and sighed before sitting up. “Your hair is messy.” “I just woke up before you got here.” Another knock sounded and a blur of blond raced through to the door. “I’LL GET IT!” He opened the door and you caught a glimpse of Minho.

“Look who made it before me.” “Shut up.” Jisung sat down beside you. “Looks like you’ll have to sit on someone’s lap, babe.” “Fuck you, Minho.” You got up and stomped your way to Chan’s room. Not even knocking, you opened the door and threw yourself on his bed. “What’s wrong?” “FUCKING, MINHO.” Your head was still buried in his pillows and you breathed in the scent of Chan’s shampoo. He laid on top of you and you felt the wetness of his hair. “You’re getting the back of my head wet.”

Using all of your strength, you rolled over pushing him off. “Your hair is still dry. Don’t complain.” Chan pushed himself up and dried his hair with his towel. Subconsciously, you had already grabbed his brush and waited for him to sit down. As soon as his head hit your lap, you were brushing through the knots and tangles that are laced in his hair. “So what are your plans today?” “Going to the bookstore to check out the cashier and get some books.” “Are you talking about Hyunjin?” You kept brushing and brushing despite his hair being untangled. “Yeah.” “You know that he’s Minho’s friend right?” You groaned and annoyance.

“Why is he friends with every cute guy at school?” Chan laughed. “Because cute guys stick together to fend off the girls.” “Well you suck at trying to fend off me.” He shook his head. “No we don’t, we just like you.” You laughed and imagined the looks on all the girls faces if they heard that. “You want to come with me?” “I have nothing better to do.” The two of you got up and headed out to the living room. Jisung was laughing at something Changbin had said and Minho was spaced out. “We’re leaving.” Jisung sprang up. “I want hugs!”

Chan started to give him a hug but he stopped him. “I meant her.” Chan’s face was hilarious. You bent down to hug Jisung. Then, surprising him, you hugged Changbin too. “What about me?” “What about you, Minho?” “I want a hug too.” You looked at Chan who gave you the “father” look. Mentally, you cursed Chan and hugged Minho. “Asshole.” With that, you turned and left. Chan shrugged and followed you to his car. The car came to life after a few tries of starting it. You turned on the radio and blasted the music.

After Chan’s terrible parking job due to a little old lady with a death wish, you threw open the door of the bookstore and took a deep breath. “Ahhhh. The smell of books.” Chan scrunched his nose at a foul smell. “Are you sure that it’s a good smell?” You laughed and turned around. “No, you are smelling the aftermath of Mrs.Jung’s perfume.” “It’s deadly.” The two of you turned to look at the books. “Ooh! That one looks interesting. That one too.” You continuously pointed at books that you wanted to read and ultimately decided on three of them. Happily, you took them up to the counter where Hyunjin was working.

“Just these three today?” “If I could, I’d buy one of everything.” Hyunjin smiled and scanned the books. You pulled out your wallet but he stopped you from opening it. “Someone else paid for it.” “Really? Who? I want to thank them.” He pointed at a table and you looked. Minho. Why? “Nope. I’m buying. I don’t want his money to pay for my things.” Hyunjin laughed. “What do I tell him?” “Nothing, just take his money and buy books for yourself.” He gave his signature full smile. Chan walked up and sighed. “Hey, Hyunjin.” “Hey, hyung.” “YOU DIDN’T SAY YOU KNEW HIM.” Chan threw his arm around you. “Like I said earlier, us cute guys stick together.”

“I’m going to kill you, Chan. Just wait.” You paid and told Chan that you’d be back. Angrily, you stomped your way over to Minho and grabbed his ear like a mother would. He cried out in pain. “Really? Paying for my books? How low can you get?” “I told him to pay for the books the next cute girl buys and I’ll pay him back. He’s got good taste might I add.” You were about to chew him out when he caught sight of a girl over your shoulder. “She’s back.” He genuinely looked worried. “Who?” “Hye-ji and her squad.”

“Why are you so worried about her?” “She won’t leave me alone if she finds out I’m single.” Hye-ji noticed Minho and strutted over. “Minho! Fancy seeing you here.” “Yeah.” “Are you single now?” The way she pouted and stuck out her lip was disgusting and clearly making Minho uncomfortable. “Come on, babe! Chan’s waiting on us. We’ll be late to practice.” You held out your hand and he took the hint. Minho grabbed your hand and stood up. “Sorry, Hye-ji. I am taken.” The two of you walked away hand in hand and you heard one of the girls say that you wouldn’t last long.

You held his hand until you got to the car. “You owe me.” “Your hand fits in mine like they were made for each other.” Harshly, you threw your books in the back. “If you don’t knock it off I’m going to ki-ss you.” The girls left and you sighed. “You’re going to kiss me?” “I’m going to kill you.” You got in Chan’s car and he gave you a confused look. The entire car ride back, you explained. You were still explaining when you got back to his apartment. “I mean, I didn’t like it but no one deserves that amount of fakeness in their lives.”

————————

The next day, you woke up to Minho’s alarm once again and instead of ignoring it, you walked over to his door and pounded on it. He opened the door with his bed head. One of his cats rubbed up against your leg. You bent down to pick it up. “Hey, Dori!” “You know my cats and their names?” Giving Dori kisses, you nodded. “You aren’t quiet and Jisung shows me your instagram all the time.” Minho smiled at you cooing over his cat. “I want to sleep in so shut your stupid alarm off.” “Don’t sing in the shower.” “I don- how can you hear me? I don’t sing my lungs out.” He laughed. “The walls are thin.”

After you admitted defeat, you went back to your apartment. There was no use in going back to sleep so you got dressed in a sundress adorned with sunflowers. To top it off, you put on your aviator sunglasses and converse. With nowhere specific to go, you closed your door and wandered the halls. You were pushed against the wall. “Hey pretty lady…wanna have some fun?” “No. Get off me.” You tried to get the random guy off of you. He held a knife to your throat and was about to kiss you when someone pulled him off of you. It was a pissed off Minho. Oddly, it was kind of hot to see him pissed off.

“Get off my girl.” “What are you going to do?” Minho responded with a punch that caused a sickening crack. The guy fell and held his nose that was broken. Minho wrapped his hand around your waist as you shook. “It’s okay.” He walked you outside and you calmed down. You two walked for a while without talking. All of a sudden, he stopped. “They’re coming. Kiss me!” You saw the girls and kissed him. He fell into the kiss and naturally rested his hands on your waist. The two of you were so into the make out that you didn’t realize the girls had passed until you broke apart for air. “This was a one time thing. Let’s head back.” He frowned but followed you back to the apartments.

Monday came around but luckily, you were on summer vacation. You made your way to Chan’s apartment and once again, Changbin opened the door shirtless. “I’m going to buy you a shirt for christmas.” “Thanks but I won’t wear it.” “I’ll duct tape it to your damn body.” He smiled. “You’re just jealous.” “As if.” You helped clean up the room for the sleepover. The boys started arriving and you got introduced to them. Felix, Jeongin, and Seungmin. As soon as the pizza arrived, spin the bottle started. It was your turn to spin and it landed on Chan. You thanked the gods it wasn’t Minho and crawled over to where he was.

After the two minutes was up, you returned to your spot. You noticed Minho shifting a lot and realized he had a problem in his pants. A giggle slipped out of your lips. The boys looked at you. “Let’s play truth or dare.” They agreed and they started by asking you first. “Truth or dare?” “Minho, I choose dare.” He smirked. “ I dare you to sit on my lap, babe.” “Okay, babe,” you replied sarcastically. You sat in his lap and felt his problem. Silently, you whispered to him. “Did my make out with Chan get you excited?” “You know, I’d rather have that tongue working wonders somewhere else.” “In your dreams.”

You were getting uncomfortable so you shifted forgetting where you were sitting until two hands gripped your hips harshly. Biting your tongue to stay quiet, you slapped his hand. “Don’t move, babe. You’ll make it worse.” You smiled and shifted again. He hissed and grabbed your throat. “I will correct you in front of all the boys if you don’t knock it off.” “You are really bad at hiding how turned on you are,” you hissed. Minho’s grip tightened. “You are a brat.” To push him a little farther, you took his hand off your neck. “You don’t own me.” Without hesitating, you grabbed Changbin’s face and kissed him. He didn’t mind, instead he enjoyed watching Minho get rejected by a girl.

Minho glared at you. “What are you going to do? Fuck me sensless and then ditch me? That’s not how I play in the end.” You threw yourself on the couch because you didn’t feel like going home. There was a tension in the room. “But, if you want to play, let’s play.” You patted the couch. Minho stood up and sat down. When he was comfortable, you straddled his lap. “First one to touch the other has to do what the other says.” He agreed and you both put your hands by your sides. Oblivious to everyone else in the room, you two started a make out session. Using your famous strategy, you stopped and pulled away. Minho automatically grabbed your neck to kiss you again.

You pulled away and bent down to his ear. “You lose.” Saying nothing more, you got up and sat back down by Chan. “I’m tired.” It wasn’t long before you fell asleep. Minho picked you up and laid you on the couch. For a moment, you woke up and grabbed his hand. “Lay with me.” He complied and laid with you. You buried your face in his chest. “I’m willing to give up my ways if you’d be mine. I’ve had my eye on you since you moved in.” “Minho, you never asked me.” He smiled. “Do you want to go on a real date?” “Will you keep me for longer than a month?” He hummed a yes. “Then, yes.”

—————————————————————————

What do I write? I’ll never know.

[izanyas]

prompt suggestions!- the phantom thieves pov regarding akechi and akira's relationship, a continuation of portrait of you with uraraka as a working hero, a snippet of agency chuuya ...?

it’s been 10000 years since i updated Nothing Noble and you guys will have to wait 10000 more years before i can get back to it so here, have chuuya and dazai’s reunion, you deserve it

-

When Chuuya woke up, it was to the distorted and fake sound of gunshots, and grunts and cries running thin through the cool air. A video game, he thought blearily, his head ringing still with the blow of the girl’s ability—a demon with a sword folding out of her back, just like—

His temple throbbed. Chuuya groaned, frowning, feeling the dry pull of skin under crusting blood. So sharp was the pain that he felt nauseous; and either the girl had been as highly-trained as she had looked, or he was very lucky, for a few centimeters lower and he could have died on the spot. He swallowed back the bile. He exhaled painfully, and reached up to touch the wound.

Or he tried, at least.

His right wrist was stopped by a bond of some kind. His left wrist by another—a skin-soft, skin-warm other.

New cries and gunshots rang out of the game just as Chuuya realized that the emptiness in his chest was not simply due to fatigue.

“Oh, just great,” he spat out.

His voice broke over the words, but it was no matter. Chuuya was having to breathe and clench the teeth now, to acquaint himself again with the feeling of nothingness where his ability should lay. The fingers circling his wrist tightened.

“Welcome back,” Dazai replied. “Please don’t bark so loudly, I’m trying to beat my record.”

Chuuya inhaled sharply and opened his eyes.

He immediately regretted it: the light of the port mafia’s infirmary was still the disgusting, blinding white he remembered from his childhood, and the brightness made the side of his head shout with pain. He was definitely concussed, he thought, feeling nausea roll up his throat. With any luck he’d vomit on Dazai’s clothes and not his own.

Dazai took his sweet time. As if wanting to draw out the moment—and maybe he did, the sadistic bastard—he finished his game. He must be doing it one-handedly too, considering his fingers hadn’t let go of Chuuya’s wrist for a second. Chuuya refused to be the one to look at him first. He sat straighter in the chair he was bound to and stared at the window opposite him, through which a pale square of grey sky showed.

At last, the victory jingle of Dazai’s game rang in the silence. Dazai let it play for a while before turning off his console. He sighed loudly; the very sound of it made Chuuya’s chest feel tight, pressurized. Dazai rose to his feet, still holding Chuuya by the wrist, before letting go. He walked around the chair to stand before him.

And Chuuya would rather die than look meek before someone, before Dazai, so he met his eyes defiantly.

He was so stupidly tall. Of course Dazai had always been lanky, skinny and long-limbed, but now his legs and torso stretched without the awkwardness of adolescence. His face was thinner, his eyes wider-apart. His hair was still the same mess, lighter-brown rather than black.

His shoulders had grown to fit the coat Mori had given him so long ago.

“I hate what you’ve done with the hair,” Dazai told him conversationally.

His voice was deeper too.

“Piss off,” Chuuya couldn’t help but reply.

“I wish. I’ve been holding it back for an hour.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.”

Dazai looked thoughtfully aside. “I see you haven’t gotten any less rude,” he said, still in that same even voice Chuuya had always despised. “Although you have gotten weaker.”

“Let me go,” Chuuya growled, all of his body strained against the bonds; “and I’ll show you just how weak I am, you son of a whore.”

Silenced crushed the space between them to smithereens.

Dazai sighed again. His fingers found the side of Chuuya’s neck a few seconds at most before the Tainted Sorrow would have gone back to him. Chuuya wanted to rage as the feeling of emptiness deepened; he wanted to bite off Dazai’s hand, to spit out of his own chest the nostalgia now holding him back.

“Well, I can’t say I didn’t use Kyouka-chan for this purpose,” Dazai said. The pad of his thump pressed right above Chuuya’s clavicle, right under the collar of Chuuya’s shirt; right above his pulse. “I was counting on the surprise. Good thinking, me.”

“You’re such a piss poor excuse for a human being.”

“You’ll hurt my feelings.”

Chuuya snorted audibly.

Still, he was reeling from the sight of the girl’s ability. Still his heart ached with the memory of Kouyou’s Golden Demon.

“Who is she?” he asked.

Dazai’s hand shifted around his neck. It fit against the line of his shoulder full-palmed. “Izumi Kyouka,” he replied at last. “Her ability is called Demon Snow. Looks a lot like ane-san’s, doesn’t it? I even dressed her up like her—”

Chuuya’s foot erupted out of the rope keeping it tied to the chair leg and hit Dazai in the belly.

Dazai crashed into the opposite wall satisfactorily. The sound of broken wood as he fell over the desk there was music to Chuuya’s ears, as much as the pained grunt he let out, squeezed from his throat. Chuuya bit down on the twisted regret flaring up his ribcage. He lowered his foot again, focusing on the pain of rope-burn and of his twisted ankle.

“Don’t fucking say her name,” he warned Dazai lowly.

Dazai pushed himself to his feet again slowly while Chuuya tested the give of the chair under him. It was bolted to the floor, and his left foot was too solidly roped to hope to tear it out as well. He couldn’t risk two twisted ankles while in port mafia custody. Still he tensed within his bonds, his spined arched off of the wooden backrest as far as it would go, his arms bulging against the rope. When Dazai touched his neck again, he growled in frustration.

“You’re such an animal,” Dazai complained.

His voice was hollow. Chuuya saw with half-satisfaction, half-guilt that his right shoulder hung limply out of its socket.

“You’ve been hiding around civilized people for years, and you still act like this? I’ve heard of Fukuzawa Yukichi, you know. Mori-san calls him a righteous man. It’s a wonder he welcomed you into his group.”

“Mori won’t be saying shit for much longer,” Chuuya bit out harshly.

“Biting and barking and drooling everywhere,” Dazai replied. “You know you won’t get to him like this. Or to Ango.”

Or to me, he didn’t say.

Chuuya wouldn’t have know what to do if he had.

Dazai’s hand lifted from his neck again. Chuuya jumped back as it rose into his face, hating himself for it and hating Dazai more—but Dazai did not laugh or make any comments to him. His hand simply followed the path of Chuuya’s head until it knocked into the wall; then he touched Chuuya’s cheek right where gauze hid the scar. His cold fingers pinched the edges of it and tore it away without a care.

The ugly hole there always stung when the weather was damp and cold; it stung now, being freed from the bandage, a crater of scar and skin high up on Chuuya’s bone. Dazai looked at it in silence.

When he could stand it no longer—when the quiet grated at him and made him feel as though his skin were being peeled away—Chuuya spat out: “Admiring your handiwork?”

Dazai breathed out quickly. He threw the dirty gauze into a paper-basket by the desk with disgusting accuracy, then rubbed at the finger hanging from his dislocated arm for a second. He took hold of Chuuya’s shoulder again and did not look at him.

“You’re out of luck,” he said, even and bored. “Mori isn’t in Yokohama now. Neither is Ango.”

“Like you would know if he was.”

“He was my friend, you know,” Dazai whined to him.

Chuuya was about to kick him again, twisted ankle or not, when someone knocked on the door.

They looked at each other in silence before looking away as one; Dazai’s hand flexing over Chuuya’s shoulder as if to brace him, Chuuya’s hurt foot touching the floor as if ready to kick away and fly.

As if this were combat, the both of them standing on the same side again.

Oda Sakunosuke entered first. He took one look at Chuuya, his serious face plying with—with pity or fucking compassion, Chuuya didn’t know and didn’t care. If he had the means now, he would plunge a first through Oda’s chest and tear out his beating heart, no matter that he had once protected him for Dazai’s sake.

Oda may now where Sakaguchi was. Out of them all, he was the most likely to know, and the most likely to be able to hide the information from Dazai successfully.

“Don’t bite, now,” Dazai murmured.

His fingernails dug into the soft flesh between bone and tendon, made all the easier to feel for Chuuya’s tension. Chuuya clenched his teeth. Dazai threatening him physically again, without even a gun this time—what a joke.

He relaxed only when he saw the shadow behind Oda: Akutagawa, as tall and skinny as Chuuya had seen him last over the tiger boy’s prone body; and still looking at him now with fear in his eyes.

Dazai’s hold relaxed. His hand left Chuuya’s body altogether as he walked leisurely toward his subordinate. “Did you bring it?” he asked jovially.

“Yes,” Akutagawa rasped out.

He handed over a small box, which Dazai took from him without a word. Akutagawa stood still then, his hand still outstretched, his eyes still jumping between Chuuya and the floor uneasily. His black coat seemed to shiver about his skin as if moved by his powers; as if, even now, Rashoumon were preparing for someone to bring a knife out.

“Hi,” Chuuya told him bluntly. “How’s that wound?”

Akutagawa jumped. Rashoumon flared off of his shoulders like wings, posing against the door at his back in defense.

“Thank you,” Dazai said pointedly. He threw Akutagawa a dark look. “You’re dismissed. Shoo.”

Akutagawa didn’t have to be asked twice. He nodded curtly and left, bowing the head when he passed by Oda’s side, who gave him the same look he had given Chuuya.

Chuuya’s guts squirmed unpleasantly. “What the hell did you put through that kid’s head?” he asked Dazai. “He keeps looking at me like I’m about to tear him a new one.”

“Nothing much,” Dazai replied distractedly. “Just incentive enough not to get any ideas about fraternizing with you.”

Oda shook his head and sighed. He still hadn’t said a word.

Dazai did not look at him anyway: his hands were busy with the box Akutagawa had brought. He slid the lid of it open one-handedly, taking out a syringe full of water-clear liquid, letting the box drop to the floor uselessly.

Chuuya’s heart skipped a beat. The pain in his temple sharpened; he pulled against his restraints uselessly.

“What the fuck is that,” he growled.

“Just something to keep you nice and put while I tend to some business,” Dazai replied, flicking a nail against the glass vial. “Now be still.”

Excess air erupted out of the needle head, and a droplet fell out and crashed onto the wooden floor.

Bile swarmed within Chuuya’s mouth.

He hardly saw Dazai approach. His ears rang under the rush of his own blood; fear the likes of which he hadn’t known in fifteen years blinded him, taking away sight and smells and sounds, as if he were afloat in green water again; from deep within his belly, the growl of a great beast echoed, enraged, uncontrollable. Pulling against the bright-gold bonds that Fukuzawa’s ability granted, showing Chuuya once again what a flimsy excuse for control this was—

“Dazai.”

Chuuya stilled, and blinked, and heaved.

That had been Oda’s voice. Dazai had stilled as well, his cold hand frozen upon the skin of Chuuya’s forearm. Chuuya first saw Oda standing behind Dazai and having grabbed Dazai’s unhurt shoulder; then he looked at Dazai, whose eyes were wide open and fixed onto Chuuya’s face.

There was an expression there that Chuuya had seen before, a long time ago. Something fragile, something outlining the youth of Dazai’s mouth and cheeks, the fatigue bruised under his eyes. Something that made Dazai lift his injured arm as if to touch Chuuya’s neck again—as if to brush fingers against the numbers tattooed at his nape, as he once did every time Corruption ravaged Chuuya whole—before he stilled.

His hand fell. His thumb rubbed at the side of index nervously. He stared at Chuuya in silence, his other hand still pressed to Chuuya’s forearm.

“It’s just a sedative,” Dazai said. “And something to keep your powers in check.”

His voice was unbearably soft.

Chuuya licked his lips. His temple throbbed. “This is supposed to reassure me?” he rasped out.

“No,” Dazai replied immediately.

But it had, and he knew it. They both knew it.

Still Chuuya tried to jerk his hand back with Dazai took hold of him again. Still a whimper tried to escape his lips when the needle punctured his skin, as his mind once more shook with half-buried memories, with the sight of a book torn out of a dead man’s hand, showing pictures he wished he had never seen.

There were so many things one could do to him while sedated and powerless, even if Mori was far, even if Dazai stood before him with more sanity in his eyes than when they were children. Chuuya breathed in deeply. The very slight ache of the needle pulling out made him want to cry out.

Dazai’s hand lingered above his skin for a moment longer. He wiped the small wound with his thumb when a single drop of blood leaked out; he backed away; he pressed his palm to Chuuya’s skin again, and then stepped back entirely.

“I hate you,” Chuuya let out uselessly.

Dazai stared at him in silence. Already Chuuya could feel his eyelids weigh down as the sedative worked through him. He blinked open his eyes forcefully. Dazai’s face blurred and swayed, pale and haunting.

As consciousness faded from Chuuya, Dazai replied, “I know. You’re right to.”

The last Chuuya saw of him before darkness took him was the flutter of a black coat and a bowed head of brown hair; and his last thought flew to that same dark hair in the moonlight, to a blasted-open hangar stained with the blood of dozens of strangers—

—to Dazai holding a glistening pistol up, shaking through his body, begging him: “Please. Don’t make me do this.”