#and on that anxiety-inducing note i should probably stop talking about this for a while

[rowdyluv]

needed you - qh43

summary: y/n has an intense fear of storms, particularly the incessantly loud rumbling thunder.

word count: 3.4k

notes: @sweetestdesire request for a a quinny fic. “You’re really scared of some thunder? C’mere.” turned out to be angsty but soft quinn

warnings: use of y/n, tense, angst, may induce stress, soft quinn,

"See ya, guys! Thanks for the fun night in," Y/n called out to her friends as they filed out the door, their laughter and chatter echoing down the hallway. She waved goodbye, feeling a bit relieved that the party had wound down. The quiet was a welcome change from the earlier clamor of games and gossip. The apartment was left in a gentle mess, but the warm glow of friendship lingered in the air.

Y/n stretched while she yawned and began to clean up, her mind wandering to Quinn. She knew he was out with the team, but she had hoped he'd be home sooner. The thought of his strong arms around her, calming her raging thoughts through the impending storm, brought a smile to her face and a bit of ease to the sickness winding in her stomach. As she packed away the last of the snacks, she glanced out the window. The night was still, the moon casting a serene light over the cityscape. She couldn't wait to crawl into bed and cuddle up with him, sharing stories about their respective evenings.

Meanwhile, at the bar, Quinn sat in the middle of a booth between Brock and Petey, his shoulders slumped and his eyes glazed over from the beers. The laughter of his teammates washed over him, but he couldn't find the energy to join in. He checked his phone again, noticing it was already 12:30 AM. He had promised Y/n he'd be home early tonight, but the guys had talked him into a few more drinks. He felt a twinge of guilt, but he never truly goes out so maybe just this once it should be okay to be selfish.

“Huggy put your phone down! We’re here to have fun.” Garland slurs from the other end of the table.

Quinn nodded and slid his phone into his pocket. He knew he had to stop checking it every few minutes. It was getting late and Y/n was probably worried, but he didn’t want to dampen the mood with his own anxieties. He took a deep breath and tried to push the feeling aside, focusing instead on the raucous laughter around him. The bass of the music pounded through the bar, making the floor vibrate beneath his feet. It was the kind of music that demanded you to either get up and dance or get lost in the rhythm, and for a brief moment, he let it consume him.

Back at the apartment, Y/n stood in their kitchen with shaking hands, the weather gradually getting worse was setting her nerves on edge. The wind had picked up outside, whipping against the windows like a crazed lover. Rain had started to patter down, a prelude to the storm that had her heart racing. She took a deep breath and tried to convince herself that Quinn was just stuck in traffic or had lost track of time. He'd be home soon, she thought, trying to reassure herself. But the silence of his unanswered texts and calls was deafening.

Her eyes darted around the room, searching for something to do, anything to distract her from the storm brewing outside and the one building inside her chest. She settled on making a cup of tea, her hands trembling as she filled the kettle and placed it on the stove. The gentle hiss of the gas flame igniting filled the room, but it did little to calm her nerves. As the water heated, she checked her phone again, willing it to buzz with a message from Quinn. Nothing. The wind howled, and the rain grew heavier, now pounding against the windows.

“Maybe if I call him?” She thought out loud. The clock read 1:10 AM as she dialed the number she knew by heart.

“Hey, you’ve reached Quinn, leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can!” His voice, though much younger and recorded, brought a bit of comfort, but not enough to ease the two storms brewing. The one in her and the one outside. She took a deep breath and began to leave a voicemail, her voice shaky but steady.

“Hey, Quinny, it’s me. Hope you’re having fun with the guys. Uhm just wanted to let you know that the storm is starting to get pretty intense out there... I’m sure you guys are fine and just having a good time. Call me when you get this, okay? I…just mi—want to know you’re okay. I love you, bye!” She hung up before she could say anything else that might betray her fear.

1:30 AM.

The bar was getting louder, the air thick with the scent of stale beer and sweat. Quinn leaned back in the booth, his arms folded tightly across his chest. The music was a cacophony of beats and shouts that didn't quite drown out the thunderous pounding of his own thoughts. His eyes scanned the table, finding his teammates passed out, their heads resting in a pool of spilled drinks and crumbs. He had never felt more out of place, yet he stayed to make sure these morons made it home.

If Quinn knew anything in that moment it was for sure that he’d be getting them back at practice this week.

Back at the apartment, Y/n's trembling grew more pronounced with each passing minute. She couldn't ignore the storm anymore. It had started as a gentle whisper, a hint of rain against the windows, but had escalated into a full-blown symphony of thunder and lightning. Her heart hammered in her chest, each peal of thunder sending shockwaves through her body. She curled up on Quinn's side of the bed, her phone clutched tightly in her hand, the cold screen a stark contrast to her clammy palms. The scent of his cologne still lingered on the pillow, faint but comforting. She buried her face in it, breathing him in, willing him to appear through the door.

‘One more call? No that’s to creepy clingy girlfriendy.. But he likes clingy girlfriendy y/n..’

Her thoughts swirled in a tornado of doubt and fear. Finally, she gave in, hitting the call button with trembling fingers. The line rang once, twice, three times, before she heard his voice, a recorded message that didn’t ease the ache in her chest this time. She took a deep breath, trying to keep the panic from seeping into her voice.

“Quinn, it’s me again. The storm is really bad out here. The lights are flickering, and I’m so scared. I know you’re busy, but I need you. I know you said you’d be home early, and I trusted you. Please, come home soon. I’m not okay without you here with me, especially when it’s like this. I love you so much, and I just want to be safe with you. Call me, text me, anything. I need to know you’re okay. I’m just—I’m really scared, Quinn. I’m sorry, I know I sound desperate, but I can’t help it. I need you right now. Please come home soon. Uhm bye,” she whispered into the void, the weight of her words hanging in the silent apartment like the eye of the storm.

The phone remained eerily silent, the screen a cold, unyielding barrier to the warmth she craved. She sent one more text, a simple heart emoji, and hoped that somehow, it would be enough to break through the barrier holding him hostage from his phone.

With each flash of lightning, the shadows from the windows grew more menacing, reaching in like skeletal fingers to pluck at her already frazzled nerves. Y/n couldn't take it anymore. She grabbed her fleece blanket and bolted from the bedroom, her bare feet slapping against the cool hardwood floor, and dashed into the ensuite bathroom. The only room in the apartment that didn't have windows and hopefully wouldn’t make her feel claustrophobic. The bathroom was a small sanctuary of porcelain and tile, the scent of mint and the hum of the extractor fan a stark contrast to the tempest outside. She locked the door behind her, creating a barrier between her and the storm, but it didn't help. She could still hear the thunder rumbling like a displeased giant, each boom echoing through the walls and reverberating the foundation of the building.

Her phone, now a silent sentinel of her fear, remained in her hand. She checked it again, hoping against hope that she had missed a call or a text. The screen remained dark, cold, and unchanged. Her heart sank, the weight of loneliness pressing down on her chest like a lead blanket. 'Why isn’t he answering?' Her thoughts screamed. She knew he wasn’t the type to ignore her, especially when she was scared. Maybe his phone died, or maybe he was too busy, but the doubt was eating her alive.

Quinn's head snapped up, the sound of his ringtone piercing through the buzz of the bar dwindling down. He fumbled in his pocket, pulling out his phone to see Y/n's name flashing on the screen. He had missed a couple calls and quite a few texts from her, each one more frantic than the last. His heart sank as he saw the time, 2 AM. He quickly stood up, knocking over Petey, who fell into Dak, in his haste. Which worked out in his favor as he had to walk over them. The room filled with fuzzy stars for a moment, a reminder of the drinks he too had consumed. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He wasn’t driving, so he ordered up an Uber home.

As he waited, Quinn felt his stomach twist into knots. He knew how much Y/n hated storms and here he was, leaving her alone to face it. He had promised to be there for her, and now she was probably terrified out of her mind. He scrolled through the texts, each one a silent plea for him to come home. He read the last one, her voice echoing in his mind. "I'm really scared, Quinn." He cringed, feeling like a complete asshole for not being there for her.

The Uber pulled up, and Quinn practically threw himself into the backseat, slamming the door shut behind him. The driver looked at him in the rearview mirror, the concern clear in his eyes. "You okay, buddy?"

Quinn nodded, trying to ignore the guilt that clawed at him. He fumbled with his phone, finally managing to play the voicemails. Y/n's voice filled his ear, each word a dagger to his heart. "The storm is really bad out here," she whispered, and he could almost feel the tremble in her voice. "The lights are flickering, and I’m so scared." The sound of her sobs grew louder, the thunder outside seeming to sync with her cries. Quinn wasn’t afraid of much, so he didn’t quite understand his girlfriend’s fear over storms. It could be because she didn’t care to say why she’s scared, and he wasn’t going to press her. It’s evident they bother her, and it’s enough for him to be the support she needs.

Until he’s not.

The bathroom door rattled in its frame as the storm outside reached a crescendo. Lightning flashing under the space between the door and the floor. Y/n had never thought that lightning was the scary part of storms, it has always been the thunder that had driven her to seek refuge in someone, something, someplace. She wasn’t quite sure why the deep, resonating booms always managed to succeed in getting her so worked up.

Maybe when she was younger it was because she had always associated them with crawling in bed with her parents or if the power went out they would gather in the living room to play games in the candle light. Until the day every thing just up and changed. No one was there to help her weather the storm, figuratively or literally.

Maybe now it’s because she has grown accustomed to associating thunderstorms with Quinn's soothing touch and whispers, telling her that everything would be okay. That with him, he would never let anything happen to her. He, who had become her anchor in the storm, was nowhere to be found.

The Uber ride home was a blur of neon lights and puddles reflecting the chaos of the storm. Quinn's mind was racing, his thoughts tangled with guilt and fear for Y/n. He had never been the one to break a promise, especially not one so important to her. He had to get home, had to hold her and tell her it was okay, even if he didn’t believe it himself.

The car pulled up to the apartment complex, and Quinn dashed out into the rain. The cold droplets stung his skin, sobering him up as he sprinted towards the building. The lights in the hallway flickered as he panted up the stairs, the thunder now a constant drumroll in his ears. His hand shook as he inserted the key into the lock, the sound of the tumblers clicking into place echoing through the empty corridor.

He burst into the apartment, the door slamming against the wall. "Y/n!" he called out, his voice strained with worry. The living room was dark, except for the TV screen flickering with a muted news broadcast. Rainwater dripped from his hair, tracing a path down his forehead and into his eyes. He wiped it away, his heart racing as if he had just played a full hockey game. Quinn let out a heavy breath before he hurried upstairs towards their bedroom.

Reaching the bedroom door, he carefully pushed it open. The sight that greeted him was not what he expected. The bed, usually a bastion of order and comfort, was a writhing mess of blankets and pillows. It was clear she had been restless, her fear probably keeping her from finding any semblance of peace. But she wasn’t there. The room was empty except for the ghosts of his guilt and her fear. He flipped on the lights, the sudden brightness piercing the gloom, revealing the chaos of his side of their now empty bed.

Quinn's eyes searched the room, looking for any clue as to where she could be. That’s when he heard it. A muffled sound, faint but unmistakable. Sniffles, coming from the bathroom. He approached the closed door, the thunder outside giving way to the quiet that follows, as if the storm was holding its breath. He placed his hand on the cool wood, feeling the vibration of the storm's power through it. "Y/n?" he called out as softly as possible.

The sniffles grew quieter, almost as if she was trying to control her cries. She stepped out of her place of refuge enough to unlock the door, she then quickly retreated back to her previous position. She was curled up in the bathtub, her knees to her chest, her chin perched on her knees, her eyes red and puffy from crying.

Quinn’s heart broke when he saw her like this. He had never seen her so scared, so vulnerable. He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her further. "Hey," he said softly, reaching out a hand to touch her shoulder. But she jerked away from his touch, her body stiff and face showing no emotion.

He dropped to his knees, the one desperate for her attention now.

"Y/n, baby, I'm so sorry," he whispered, his voice filled with genuine concern. "I had no idea it was this bad." He took a step closer, the scent of rain and alcohol mingling with the faint minty scent of their bathroom. He wished he could take away her fear, absorb it into himself so she didn't have to feel it anymore.

"You promised me," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You promised me, I would never be alone again with no warning, no explanation beforehand. You promised you’d be home early." She choked back a cry on the last part, her eyes glued to the faucet, watching the droplets of water fall into the tub. Quinn shattered into a trillion pieces. He had promised all of that. No apology will be enough to make any of this better, he accepted that, but he had to at least try.

"I know," he began, his voice thick with regret. "I fucked up, Y/n. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I didn't mean to leave you like this." He paused, willing her to look at him, to see the pain in his eyes that mirrored hers. "You're my entire world, you're everything to me. I'd never want to cause you pain, especially not when you're already scared." He tried reaching for her again, this time to push her hair back and combing his fingers through her hair. He left his hand cradling her head.

"Garland told me to put my phone away," he murmured, his voice low and tight. "And before I knew it, Brock was pretty drunk and Petey was extremely wasted. I had a few myself. The music was so loud that the bass kept me from feeling the vibrations of my phone, and I lost track of time. With them so wasted, I felt I needed to make sure they got home okay, but when I finally checked my phone.” Quinn paused swallowing down the knot in his throat “and I discovered your calls and all the messages I left." His words hung in the air, heavy with the weight of his guilt. "I know it doesn’t account for the fact I should have checked my phone way before, I should have come home earlier like I had promised."

Y/n felt the anger and fear melt away with each of his words. She knew the guys could be a handful. What group of hockey players weren’t a handful? She didn’t want to add anymore to his burden of guilt. She leaned into his hand, the warmth of his touch sending waves of comfort through her. "Can we go cuddle now?" She asked him shyly, her voice still shaky. The storm outside was slowly calming down, but the tempest in her chest raged on. She needed him, needed his warmth and his words of comfort to soothe her. Quinn quickly wiped the shocked look from his that was slapped on the moment cuddle now fell from her lips.

“C’mere pretty girl.” Quinn grins as he lifts her from her bathtub refuge. “I will never pass up an opportunity to cuddle with you.” He softly places her down on her side of the bed, walking to his dresser to grab himself a set of dry clothes, finally. “I’ll be right back to you.”

Y/n nods into his chest, watching him retreat back into the bathroom. She takes a deep breath, the fear of losing him subsiding more and more with his touch. She grabs the first t-shirt she can find from his drawer, pulls it over her head and wraps it around herself like a cocoon. She crawls into bed, able to relax this time around when lying down.

When Quinn returns, freshly changed into a dry shirt and sweatpants, the sight of her in his shirt brings a warm smile to his face. He slides into bed next to her, pulling her close so that they are face to face. Fitting together as if they were made for each other. She feels the warmth of his body seep into hers, the steady thump of his heart beneath her palm as she lays her hand flat on his chest. The rhythm of it soothing her like a lullaby.

"I could feel and listen to your heart all day, just to know you’re okay," she mumbles into the fabric of his shirt, her voice muffled but clear enough for him to hear. He pulls her in tighter, a silent acknowledgement. A low rumble of thunder in the distance happens and he rubs his hand soothingly over the back of her head.

Quinn whispers, "I’m making you a new promise, pretty girl. I promise from here on out I will not be going out when storms are predicted. Only exceptions of course are those to do with work. Unless it’s just the guys wanting to go out, that is not work related.” Y/n didn’t speak, to exhausted to form words just nodded her head in acknowledgment before dozing off.

He watched her for a few minutes, grateful to be holding her in his arms. The thought of her curled up in the tub, terrified, was a knife in his chest. He had never meant to cause her this much pain. He kissed the top of her head reveling in her soft breaths as she slept before whispering what’s been on his mind since his shower to her sleeping form. “I noticed you didn’t end your second voicemail with an ‘i love you’ or now before falling asleep…we’ve always made a point to make sure the other knows, regardless of how bad the argument was. I know you aren’t hearing this because you’re asleep but it’s easier to say it now than looking in your eyes tomorrow and watching tonight all over. I just really hope you know how much I love you.”

“Good gracious, you forget and he gets all sappy. Yes Quinny I love you. I love you. I love you.” In between each ‘I love you’ was a peck on the lips.

Quinn couldn’t help but laugh, the sound low and warm, like a quiet summer night. He pulled her closer, the storm outside now just a faint memory, the rain had turned to a gentle pitter-patter. He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and finally her lips, feeling the tension of the night slip away with each touch.

"You know you're going to have to repeat that when I’m fully awake, right?" She mumbled falling right back asleep.

“That is perfectly fine, I’ll be right here next to you whenever you’re ready.” Quinn closed his eyes and was soon asleep as well.

A night of two tales, Quinn is lucky it worked out for him and happy he’s able to keep his girl.

[apheliia]

AURORA. — Arlecchino's child has never seen the aurora in Snezhnaya before.

— trigger & content warnings. none applicable!

— pairings & notes. fluff. arlecchino & reader. reader is a member of the house of the hearth, is at least around 15 but is otherwise ambiguous in age, and is implied to be arlecchino's chosen successor. reader is gender neutral (they/them pronouns used). arlecchino is suggested to be taller than the reader by quite a bit. 0.8k words.

— author's thoughts. arlecchino my beloved RAHHH she is literally the best fatui harbinger imo. i love you arle no. 4 of the fatui harbingers 🗣🗣❗️❗️❗️ i am surprised by the lack of platonic arlecchino fics!??!?! she is literally called father guys please /lh

       "Father..."

       Shadowing under the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers during one of her trips to Snezhnaya was, no doubt, nervewracking and tiring despite them never needing to do anything other than follow her around; Arlecchino simply wouldn't allow some of her coworkers to even look in their direction, let alone try to speak to them. Some, like Tartaglia, however, were momentarily permitted to; Childe had talked their ear off while Arlecchino was occupied with the Regrator and the Rooster, though they could only wordlessly nod in response to the never-ending chatter about his siblings. 'You should come by sometime,' he had said. 'You kids from the Hearth are a good lot, and my family would be more than happy to have visitors.'

       Nevertheless, really, they hadn't done much at all... but perhaps the anxiety of dipping their toes into their Harbinger's responsibilities—the ones that they may very well inherit one day—was a valid enough reason to be so mentally tired.

       Standing close behind her, listening to her speak with her coworkers (it was quite amusing to see the glare and scowl fixed on her face when she needed to speak to the Doctor—she never looked at them or any of their siblings like that—though the sheer terror his presence induced was enough to drown that amusement out), seeing the details of her responsibilities that others could not...

       They were certain that they must've said a mere one or two words during the whole visit—a "Yes, Father" or a "No, Father," directed at none other than their Harbinger and her alone.

       Exhaustion and cold seeped into their bones, but nonetheless, they had stopped trailing after her and stared up in wonderment.

       Arlecchino stopped shortly after they did, turning back to them. "What is it?"

       Colors danced freely in the nighttime Snezhnayan sky. Despite the chill permeating their flesh (they were reminded that they probably should have dressed a bit more warmly, but they weren't familiar with the Motherland, and therefore didn't anticipate how cold the night would get), they felt no compulsion to rush.

       "Look. The aurora," they murmured, eyes wide with awe and wonder.

       The Knave's heels clicked on the tiled terrace at the front of the Winter Palace as she paced back over to them, following their gaze upwards. "Have you never seen it before?"

       "No. I... I've never been to Snezhnaya before now," they admitted, "so I have never seen the aurora. I've heard about it, but—"

       "I understand. It is more magnificent than even the most vivid descriptions."

       Suddenly, the heavy weight of the Knave's coat fell onto their shoulders. They gingerly clasped the edges, pulling it closer to their body as to fend off the biting chill in the air. Lavender and a vague twinge of smoke filled their lungs. To some, it may have been an unpleasant combination—perhaps others would find the smoke too stinging and bitter or the lavender too sickening, as some do. To them, however, it was simply... Father's scent. It was hard to dislike when the person they associated it with was so important to their life.

       It was equally hard to feel cold with her coat draped over their body.

       Father's particular scent made a comforting warmth stir in their chest—perhaps she was not really their Father, but it was times such as this that made them feel that she was—and her coat ensured that their exterior did not freeze.

       In fact, it was quite impossible to feel cold now.

       "...Let us stay for a while longer, then," she mused, one of her hands finding its place on their upper back. "The aurora is a sight to behold, and there are no urgent matters to attend to at home."

       Momentarily, their gaze broke away from the sky and shifted to the Harbinger instead. Though they did appreciate the gesture of giving them her coat... "Won't you get cold, Father?"

       Their concern was not unwarranted, but indeed unecessary.

       "Worry not," the Fourth replied smoothly, reaching over to adjust the coat somewhat; it was too big for them and threatened to slip off of their body if their already gentle hold were to loosen even slightly. Arlecchino absently mused to herself about how utterly unintimidating they were, drowning in the fluff of her coat and head just barely able to peek out from the top. It was cute, though she dared not say admit such a thing out loud. "I have long since grown used to this weather. You have not."

       'You need that coat far more than I do.'

       That was what she wanted to say, or rather what she was implying; she would speak her mind if she so truly desired to or felt the need to. They'd grown quite used to her enigmatic nature and quite skilled in reading between the lines, picking apart her words at the seams to uncover what she truly meant to say.

       Suddenly, under the flickering purples, greens, and blues of the night sky, it was no longer cold.

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[thats-amnesty-babe]

Please note that many antipsychotics are known to actually CAUSE type two diabetes in people who take them long-term. It doesn’t have to just be genetic. Diabetes can be medication-induced. It is still just as permanent and lifelong.

I had normal A1C and fasting glucose levels in my yearly blood tests for my entire life before starting Vraylar (a second-generation antipsychotic, which my psychiatrist recommended to me because it had “milder” side effects than many other antipsychotics). Taking 3 mg of Vraylar each day for perhaps a year and a half landed me a full-blown diabetes diagnosis. I actually started tapering off of it (with my psychiatrist’s permission… not that I trust psychiatrists much anymore, anyway) very quickly after I was told about my diabetes diagnosis and then did some cursory googling. Turns out this shit is kind of COMMON KNOWLEDGE. And nobody told me.

Source: https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/drugs-vraylar-side-effects

This condition will never go away and will affect my health negatively for the rest of my life — in addition to the mental health effects of being unable to consume sugar without health anxiety.

At NO point did a psychiatrist or my general practitioner doctor I see for regular wellness visits EVER mention that this was a possibility to me. That a long-term health condition could come from taking a medication they prescribed to me. I actually saw two psychiatrists in the time period that I was taking this antipsychotic: the initial prescriber and then a different psychiatrist after I moved to another state. Talk about informed consent…

(Content warning for saneism, which is discrimination against people who are perceived as anything deviating from the average societal standards of being sane of mind… such as experiencing any form of psychosis.)

The wildest thing about this is that I do not technically even have a disabling long-term psychotic disorder! As in, nothing that has psychosis as its primary symptom. The frequency and severity of my psychosis symptoms are extremely correlated with my overall stress levels. I am actually in the best mental health state in my entire life now, and I have not experienced any psychotic symptoms at all for months.

It’s been maybe 9 months since I stopped taking Vraylar, and I’ve had only two days where I experienced ANY psychotic symptoms. I have complex PTSD (among other mental health conditions, which feel a little too personal for me to comfortably share publicly). C-PTSD commonly has mild psychosis as a symptom. With adequate treatment and significant progress toward recovery, the psychosis symptoms can actually go away. For me, they have.

I regularly experienced hallucinations and delusions for the majority of my life, since about the age of eight. With the help of a couple of damn good therapists and a whole lot of personal mental health work, I have learned how to navigate the world in a functional and successful manner, even while tolerating and coping with my psychotic symptoms. Which means… I probably never needed to be on Vraylar to begin with. The psychosis was never disabling, just unpleasant and something I could even ignore most of the time.

But, unfortunately, my psychiatrist was terrified to hear I experienced any amount of psychosis at all. It didn’t matter how much it affected my daily functioning or quality of life, nor how well I was able to emotionally cope with it after years of having those symptoms. She put me on a VERY risky and damaging medication because of saneism. And that cost me so fucking much.

You should always be honest with your doctors, right? Give them the full details and context of your symptoms so they are fully informed before making any healthcare decisions for you. But if you don’t want to take antipsychotics, just DO NOT tell them you have psychosis. I am so serious. I believe that every single person with any amount of psychosis reading this post needs to fully internalize this message. You are in control of what information you give your doctor. Be cautious and intentional about what you share. Decide before the appointment starts whether you will disclose your psychotic symptoms.

Do RESEARCH about antipsychotics and their potential long-term health effects before ever mentioning psychosis to any kind of medical professional. There is a good chance that a doctor (psychiatrist or not!) will prescribe you antipsychotics if they catch even a whiff of psychosis.

If you’re okay with that, then that’s fine — do what is best for your overall health, even if that means prioritizing mental health over physical health. Genuinely, take care of yourself in the way that makes sense for your personal goals of long-term wellness. Some people can learn to live with their psychosis. Some people are too distressed by their psychosis to have a personally acceptable quality of life. Whether or not antipsychotics are the right choice should be entirely up to the individual patient whenever possible. Of course, I do know that there are extreme situations where medical intervention is required, but I do think that most antipsychotic prescriptions would not fall under that category.

If you do spend the time to look up what there is to know about various antipsychotics, weigh the pros and cons, and believe that taking one is genuinely the best choice for you — and of course for some people it is; the drugs were developed for a reason, after all — then at least look at various options and pick out the one that seems the safest.

I desperately wish I could send a message to my younger self to PLEASE thoroughly research ANY new medication I am prescribed BEFORE letting it enter my body AT ALL. I am now so anxious about any new prescription I am given and read all about it immediately after the appointment ends. This was so avoidable, and now I’m stuck with it permanently.

Having psychosis means we have to be careful about who we tell. That is, if it’s a possible choice. I understand that many psychotic people cannot hide it, and there is no shame in that. But if you can hide it, that’s really helpful, because you can decide if it’s worth sharing before actually sharing that information — like to a doctor. When a symptom or diagnosis goes on your medical chart, everyone else who sees that chart (like any other doctors within the same medical system) will know you have that symptom. Having medically documented psychosis can severely affect how seriously doctors will take your future health concerns. Be careful, guys. Be safe.

I saw a comment on your blog that says 'the way you eat does not cause diabetes'...are you able to expand on that or provide a source I could read? I've been told by doctors that my pre-diabetes was due to weight gain because I get more hungry on my anti psychotics and I'd like to fact check what they've told me! Thank you so much!

Pre-diabetes was rejected as a diagnosis by the World Health Organization (although it is used by the US and UK) - the correct term for the condition is impaired glucose tolerance. Approximately 2% of people with "pre-diabetes" go on to develop diabetes per year. You heard that right - TWO PERCENT. Most diabetics actually skip the pre-diabetic phase.

There are currently no treatments for pre-diabetes besides intentional weight loss. (Hmm, that's convenient, right?) There has yet to be evidence that losing weight prevents progression from pre-diabetes to T2DM beyond a year. Interestingly, drug companies are trying to persuade the medical world to start treating patients earlier and earlier. They are using the term “pre-diabetes” to sell their drugs (including Wegovy, a weight-loss drug). Surgeons are using it to sell weight loss surgery. Everyone’s a winner, right? Not patients. Especially fat patients.

Check out these articles:

Prediabetes: The epidemic that never was, and shouldn’t be

The war on ‘prediabetes' could be a boon for pharma—but is it good medicine?

Also - I love what Dr. Asher Larmie @fatdoctorUK has to say about T2DM and insulin resistance, so here's one of their threads I pulled from Twitter:

1️⃣ You can't prevent insulin resistance. It's coded in your DNA. It may be impacted by your environment. Studies have shown it has nothing to do with your BMI.

2️⃣ The term "pre-diabetes" is a PR stunt. The correct term is impaired glucose tolerance (or impaired fasting glucose) which is sometimes referred to as intermittent hyperglycemia. It does not predict T2DM. It is best ignored and tested for every 3-5yrs.

3️⃣ there is no evidence that losing weight prevents diabetes. That's because you can't reverse insulin resistance. You can possibly postpone it by 2yrs? Furthermore there is evidence that those who are fat at the time of diagnosis fair much better than those who are thin.

4️⃣ Weight loss does not reverse diabetes in the VAST majority of people. Those that do reverse it are usually thinner with recent onset T2DM and a low A1c. Only a tiny minority can sustain that over 2yrs. Weight loss does not improve A1c levels beyond 2 yrs either.

5️⃣ Weight loss in T2DM does not improve macrovascular or microvascular health outcomes beyond 2 years. In fact, weight loss in diabetics is associated with increased mortality and morbidity (although it is not clear why). Weight cycling is known to impacts A1c levels.

6️⃣ Weight GAIN does NOT increase the risk of cardiovascular OR all causes mortality in diabetics. In fact, one might even go so far as to say that it's better to be fat and diabetic than to be thin and diabetic.

Dr. Larmie cites 18 peer reviewed journal articles (most from the last decade) that are included in their webinar on the subject, linked below.

[scream-play]

ACT I - SCENE II

[By the time he's about given up, freezing and just made the realization it's oh-so likely he's soon getting frostbite, a small gas station and old-looking convenient store comes into view from where he's been walking, now a quicker pace than before, the slither of hope bubbling up in his stomach for a moment as he stops to breathe in the air of the live area, finally able to relish in this newfound finding at last. The majority of people around him are wandering about on their own; there's more people that are walking in one place - some aimlessly, with no plan, while for others it's clear they've got to be somewhere in a few minutes - than he's seen the entire time of this spiel of unexpected backpacking, even though it's past midnight.]

ANDRÉ: (Pushes the brown rusted doors of the store open and glances around.)

[The tile floors under his feet are a telltale sign of how cheap this place is; the brown is really there to seem like the accumulated dirt is truly the design, but it becomes obvious it's a flimsy attempt at a lie when looked at for longer than a mere second. Crinkling his nose at the smell, he notices the only two people in the store. A customer near the back is leaning on one of the built-in coolers, eyeing the jug of milk it contains before going for the worst knock off brand - the jug is half the size it should be, it being the cheapest option.

The other person is the lone worker, a cashier behind the counter that looks handmade out of light wood, seated on a stool as his black eyes flit across the screen as he skims the words on his phone with ease. He has a pot belly, there's a gruff look about him. His seemingly jet black eyes add a sense of unease, but not as much as when he snaps his head then cranes his neck to send ANDRÉ a rough glare. While completely anxiety-inducing, it does give him a chance to get a good look at the guy. He looks to be in his late sixties.]

ANDRÉ: (Swallows a lump in his throat while giving himself a pep talk before walking up to the counter. He squints at the guy's smudged and blurred out name on the tag attached to his plain black hoodie.)

OLD GUY: (Runs fingers through hair then pulls the hood over his head, fully covering his dreads that's ends are dyed a deep red, the rest his natural hair color; a medium light brown.)

[For some odd reason, the old guy stares for a while, those few seconds that instead felt like it was forever. He never lifts the blank stare.]

[I would not be even a tad bit surprised if the dead stares and dead emotions were more of a permanent thing, ANDRÉ thinks to himself.]

OLD GUY: Whaddya want, kid?

[ANDRÉ immediately takes note of the overly funky breath and hint of a French accent.]

ANDRÉ: (Fiddles with the cross charm on his necklace that slightly brushes against his band tee.) Um, the phone. Any phone, really. I need to-

OLD GUY: Need? I don't owe you anything. (Slips his phone into the pocket of his hoodie.)

[It almost looks like the old guy has a ghost of a smile - in a sinister pretense - on his lips, not too noticeable.]

ANDRÉ: What, no, I just...

OLD GUY: (Clearly irritated with him as his jaw tightens.) Get a move on, I don't have all day. Just spit it out.

ANDRÉ: (Clears throat.) I n-need to call for for help, or anything, really. My car, it broke down not too far from here, actually. Well, by driving at least, walking though - now that's a different story. [His accidental use of the word makes the old guy even more vexed, becoming a rude mess in return.]

OLD GUY: (Said bluntly.) No.

ANDRÉ: (A deep frown flashes over his light features.) But w-why?... I don't see what I did wrong, I just-

OLD GUY: (Smirks - it's the most emotion he has shown.) I said no, you here? No buts. Now get 'outta here, son.

ANDRÉ: (Bites his lip to the point where it is probably about to bleed, as he's on the verge of tears. His frown is quite visible now, but the old guy makes it unbearably clear he doesn't care at all.)

ANDRÉ: Right, yeah. (Turns around, heading for the door, then speed walks on the concrete sidewalk as he keeps his head down and his hands in the comfort of his sweatpants.)

ANDRÉ: (Mumbling to self.) How rude.

[His full set of scruffy facial hair really makes him look the part of being a mustache-twirling evil supervillain, ANDRÉ thinks to himself.]

ANDRÉ: (A breathy laugh escapes his mouth as his eyes crinkle with tears still clouding his vision.)

[coldtomyflash]

100% not trying to be rude or anything but as my mother is an abusive alcoholic, I found your post about alcoholism and family members super insensitive. There is a rather disturbing trend on tumblr to glorify addicts in many respects (both by finding it cool/funny as portrayed and by getting mad at anyone who dares point out it's problematic behavior, often using the same terms my mom did to justify why I wasn't allowed to ever get upset over her addiction). You really made light of alcoholism.

I hate to do this, but I have to respectfully disagree with you that I was making light of it. 

I’m sorry that that is something that you experience and it’s a terrible thing to experience. I’m also sorry if I ended up using language about the topic that’s been used to silence you; it was definitely not my intent to bring up any trauma or triggering material in that way, and I don’t routinely chat with other people online about this to see what language they use to couch these issues in.

However, my post wasn’t about glorifying addicts in any way, nor was it making light of it. I would literally never do either of those things. I won’t pretend I always word things in the best way, and I’m just as fallible as the rest of us, but if that was what you took from that then please know: that wasn’t the intent or the message I was working to convey. 

The most I was doing was pointing out that it’s impossible to physically change someone or to force them to change their behavior, and that forcing an alcoholic to go cold turkey can be physically dangerous depending on their level of dependency (untreated DTs have a mortality rate of up to 35%).

I’m not saying we shouldn’t encourage addicts to get help and to change. We should. We should always work toward a healthier society. I’m saying the team can’t force Mick to. The most they can do is either support him or else, truly, they could give him an ultimatum and say that he has to change or else he can’t be around. Which is well within their right if he mistreats them, and especially if he mistreats them while drinking. 

And ultimatums that arise like that, where we choose not to be around people unless they change, are completely justified. These things occur frequently when people we know are addicts because we’re powerless to force their hand. And it’s an ugly situation every time it happens. So of course each and every person is allowed to be upset over addiction - upset and heartbroken and frustrated and angry. It is a terrible thing, I won’t ever pretend otherwise.

But this all touches a bit on something else, which is mistreatment. And I want to note that abuse is also different from addiction. Addicts can be abusive, and some people are a lot more abusive when they drink, and I’m not ever going to excuse that and I absolutely think there should be consequences for it. 

But in the case of Mick, I wasn’t talking about the way he treats others, I was talking specifically about the volume of alcohol he takes in, and how it’s not really Leo’s place to dictate that for him (nor is Leo really physically capable of it, just as in the real world most of us can’t physically dictate what the people around us consume, even if we sometimes wish we could).

So… that’s what I was saying. And I want to add: I say all of this as someone who’s seen it. You and I might have different perspectives and experiences with alcoholism, but I’d never make light of it because I have spent my entire life knowing addicts. 

I don’t honestly believe I should have to justify my answer with my personal experience, but to give you some background: I have lived with addicts (roommates / family), I have addicts as family members (though not abusive ones), my parents were both raised by addicts and my mother in particular was raised by two incredibly dysfunctional and, in many ways abusive, addicts. She’s told me a story of witnessing her own mother in the throes of DTs and almost dying because of it; she literally put her own head through a wall. This is a woman who was 5 feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. I lost both of these grandparents to young deaths because of health problems caused by their alcoholism. I spent my childhood knowing addicts and watched substance abuse completely destroy my best friend’s family (a family that was honestly like family to me) and saw the incredibly harsh realities of that… just too often, too much. All the time. And I still know several addicts today with varying degrees of how “functional” their addiction is. 

Ultimately, I choose to love and support these people when they’re ready to change, but I know I can’t “fix” their addiction or make the underlying problems go away. I can only help them when and where I’m able, and when they’re not well and not safe or healthy to be around, or if they become abusive, or else when my own behavior is only going to enable theirs, then I check myself out of the situation. But that’s a choice I’ve had to make and been able to make, and I would never fault another person for how they make their own choices in this regard.

So… this is the reality I’ve learned about addition based on my experiences and the experiences of all the people I personally know who have coped with addiction. Yours might be different, and that doesn’t make them (or mine) any less valid. It is what it is. But that’s why I can’t apologize for saying what I said. Because I stand by it and I believe it. 

The team can encourage and support Mick through recovery, they can ensure there are consequences for his abusive or damaging behavior so they don’t enable him, but they can’t fix his addiction or force him to change. And with respect to Leo and Mick, I still maintain that you can’t have a stranger come in and start making choices dictating an addict’s behavior (when that addict doesn’t want to change and isn’t ready to) and expect it to work out in a way that’s healthy or productive for anyone in the situation. I hope it helped serve as a wake-up call for Mick, but it’s still not Leo’s place to do that.

[mixedstyles]

As Long as You Are: Part 2

Harry makes contact

LINKS: Part One, Part Three, Social Media Blurb

Author’s Note: Welcome back! I was not expecting such a wonderful response to part one, it truly meant (and still means) a lot to me! So, I just want everyone who reads this lil story to know that I am demisexual, so it takes me a very long time to develop feelings for someone, and it has to be after a close emotional bond has been formed. To move their friendship from platonic → romantic, it might be done through headcanons or small blurbs before more “chapters” are written from their POV. Hopefully that makes sense

P.S There are links throughout the story. They will be bolded and italicized!

Pronouns Used: She/Her (use of y/n)

POV: Third Person. Audrey Nuna is the faceclaim for this story and in my head the music style y/n makes is Gia Margaret’s

Warnings: swearing, brief mention of mental health (depression)

Word Count: 2179

Harry x musician!reader: Harry finally makes contact.

“Should I do it?” Harry was talking to Mitch about whether or not he should direct message y/n about her music and reaction video.

“I mean, I dunno. I feel like I’m not the person to ask,” Mitch was only half listening to Harry’s questions as he was messing around on his guitar and didn’t care enough, like any best friend would do. The question was more rhetorical than anything else and Mitch had a feeling Harry would message the girl no matter what his suggestion was.

“It’s not like I’m trying to ask her out or anything. I’m not interested in that. I just want to poke a little fun at her and then talk about music. That’s not weird, right?” This time Mitch actually paid attention. Looking up from the notebook that was scribbled with rough music hooks and melodies Mitch finally responded.

“Dude, I love you but it would probably be a little weird. Or maybe not, I’m not sure,” Harry deflated and gave a small glare towards his friend. “Hey!” Mitch protested, “I just think that some random college student getting a direct message from an extremely famous musical artist would be a little jarring. Granted it would be cool. But jarring nonetheless.” He held up his hands in a shrugging gesture and went back to his notebook.

Harry considered Mitch’s words and weighed his options. It’s not like there was a huge risk in messaging her and both of their lives would go on if he didn’t. He wasn’t planning on messaging her for anything other than the reasons he gave Mitch. He didn’t even know the girl. 

“Fuck it,” he said, “I’m doing it and no one can stop me.” Harry opened Instagram back up and searched for the Instagram username that was written in the description of the video he watched the week before.

He didn’t want to follow her, not yet, maybe not ever. Was it rude to message her without following? He questioned. Why is this so anxiety inducing?

Direct Message: @/areyoulistening 

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. sent 10:37 am

--

And so he waited… and waited. Harry ended up forgetting he had even messaged her with how busy he was that day. But of course, just as he was trying to fall asleep his eyes snapped back open. Why does everything come to my mind while I’m trying to sleep? He pulled out his phone and checked his primary Instagram messages. No response. The DM was still on sent. She hadn’t even looked at it. There are hundreds of thousands of messages he hadn’t gotten around to looking at and unfortunately never would. Maybe it was something like that, he got lost in her general messages and she’d never see it. 

He went to sleep listening to No Fun and Lucky for You on repeat.

--

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad. received 4:37 am

--

Her eyes were trying to adjust to the bright light of her phone as she reread the message. Maybe it wasn’t the brightness of the screen making it difficult to comprehend and it was the fact that she was reading a direct message from Harry Styles. 

She read it again. Thumbs hovering over the phone keyboard as she was trying to form some sort of coherent response that wasn’t a keyboard smash. She took a deep breath in, concentrating on calming her shaking hands before responding.

--

Direct Message: @/harrystyles

Hey, so compared to the songs you did with Novo Amor I have to say that Matilda doesn’t seem as sad.

oh my gosh, hi. i love my fans. i didn’t know i had such famous ones! also you know who Novo Amor is???? sent 12:56 pm

--

She paused looking at the message that she sent. Why the fuck did I ask him if he knew who Novo Amor was? She turned off her phone, stared at the ceiling, pulled the pillow from under her head, and screamed into it.

“Ahhh! What the fuck?” she yelled, the sound slightly muffled by the fabric covering her entire face. “I love my fans? What the fuck is wrong with me?” She pulled the pillow from her face and simply clutched it as if it would bring her back to reality. It was working up until she came to a very important realization.

Harry-fucking-Styles sent me an Instagram message.

--

I’m sure you have more than just me as a famous fan. I can’t be the only one. I do know who he is, but I don’t really know much of his stuff.  I watched your reaction to Harry’s House and then listened to your most recent album.  I found No Fun and Lucky for You through the recommendations. Now back to the important accusation at hand: the lyrics to No Fun??? Excuse me???

--

She sat there frozen, the lyrics to No Fun were suddenly gone from her brain as if they were never there. No Fun, lyrics, sad. Ohhh.

Thank goodness it was a momentary lapse in memory because she did not want to look up the lyrics to her own song just because Harry Styles muddled her brain.

--

i do not know what you’re talking about 👀

“Like the shadow of my mother / In the background” “With the shadow of my father / Having no fun” “With the shadow of my brother / I was a mistake“ That shit hurt

i’m so sorry 😭 it’s meant to invoke the feelings of hopelessness and helplessness i initially wrote it during a bad time and ali (novo amor) helped me put the finishing touches on it

It’s beautiful Truly The subtleties of it just pull at your emotions It’s both painful and soothing

oh my gosh, thank you so much 😭🙏🏼 i’ll have to let ali know “melancholic lullabies” someone told us

That’s exactly what it feels like Perfect way of putting it | “i’ll have to let ali know” Please do! Did anyone else work on it?

nope! Just us 😌😌 we released it back in 2019

--

She felt like her heart was going to burst out of her chest. Does she let her followers know that she got recognized? Does she let her friends know or should it be kept private? What else should I say? She thought. She wanted to keep the conversation going because what is the likelihood that a famous musician - let alone Harry Styles - would message some random person? She also wanted to be casual no matter how not casual she felt.

Thank god for messaging because if it was in person she would have barely kept it together.

--

hold on. you said you listened to my most recent album??? THE harry styles listened to MY album

I thought it was only fair because you listened to mine Did you just casually make an album in your freetime?

this interaction is ridiculous 😩😩 it feels like it’s not real. i think i’m still dreaming

Not dreaming and this is definitely real

again, ridiculous and to answer your question kind of? since i’m in a music school a lot of students end up creating EPs or full albums of their own so making music isn’t anything special i guess? the album grew from a throwaway piece i wrote years ago that i pulled out of storage for my studio production class i realized it had a lot of potential and decided to run with the sound and feel and i ended up producing 13 songs 😗✌🏼 actually in the process of making another album 🤪 sorry for the spam

That’s so cool All by yourself? And don't apologize, I’m the one who asked!

well if harry styles insists… i guess i won’t feel bad yes 😳 all by myself both of them because i like making things difficult wanna make an appearance on the next album? 👀

--

She had to shoot her shot, there was no way in hell that he, Harry-fucking-Styles - as she kept saying - would make an appearance on a music students random-ass album that they were working on out of their dingy New York appartment. But she would regret not asking.

--

Smooth I’ll think about it

oh my gosh i was (mostly) joking! you’re a very busy and famous man, i didn’t expect an answer let alone a “i’ll think about it” gosh, what is this day? it feels fake

--

Holy shit, holy-fucking-shit. “I’ll think about it” she reread the message over and over. That response was the closest thing she’d ever come to making music with Harry Styles and she was totally okay with that. 

--

Your sound is so soothing, I’m not sure I’d want to mess with that.

--

Ah, there it is. She realized. He’s letting me down easy. 

They continued to message sporadically throughout the day but the time difference made it a little awkward once the hours started to pass. Harry was “somewhere in the UK” (his words) and she joked back that she was “somewhere in New York”. They mostly talked about their mutual love of music and what it was like to create something you were proud of. She asked him if he felt a lot of pressure to please fans and critics alike because his music was on such a massive scale; while he asked her if she felt like she could make music she liked or if she also felt pressure to create music she thought others would like, the professors in her case. She ended up sending him a voice memo in response to that question.

He pressed ‘play’. 

“Hi,” she started, “I know this is random but I felt it would be easier to explain via a voice recording because I have a lot to say. I apologize if my voice wavers, I’m actually quite nervous” she continued.

“So, I can’t say much on wanting to please at a massive scale, but um, I definitely think there’s a sense of wanting to please the professors and the outside critics that are invited to give feedback. But I’ve found that in my first year and into my second one I would produce (and I’m using that term loosely) material that I didn’t necessarily like all that much just because I was looking to get a good grade and please those around me. Like now I’ve found that because I’m making things that I love and that I’m proud of, I'm able to defend it to the reviewers and it’s easier for me to verbally explain why I decided to do X instead of Y.” She paused, taking a breath before continuing.

“I guess I couldn’t really like, defend or explain my stuff before because I was just producing what I thought others would like. It also got exhausting and frankly I was burnt out because I just wasn’t happy with what I was making. Like, why make things you don’t like just ‘cause you think others would, I guess, ’vibe’ with it.” A soft chuckle came from the recording, “I’m not sure if that makes sense but uh, yeah, I suppose that’s my response… okay bye.” The voice memo ended with her dragging out the ‘e’ in bye. 

Harry paused as the words sank in. He talked to the same handful of people everyday and even though he adored them like none other he always found it so refreshing to be able to talk to new people about music. Especially the insight of someone who was going to university specifically for music production. Harry knew that music was a world in which people could communicate via massive distances and it could traverse the gap of spoken language, but there was just something so personal about sharing the way one created music with someone else.

He wasn’t sure if what y/n shared in the voice memo felt as personal to her as it would have to him had he sent it, but there was just something so intimate, not in the sense of physical or romantic intimacy, but intellectual intimacy. The act of y/n being open and vulnerable and allowing herself to share that insight with someone she didn’t even know. That one minute voice memo was what opened the door to the two of them being able to have deep, meaningful conversations where they got to learn how each other's musical mind worked. And it wasn’t anything romantic, it was two people bonding through shared experiences even though their lives were drastically different. It was the beginning of their collaborative album. Whether it was a figurative or literal album.

[venusiangguk]

gold rush pt. 2 | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader

>>genre: pwp, v little plot, smut, kinda fluffy, college au (kinda), established relationship

>>word count: 8.9k

>>warnings: romantic ass eating 😐, oral (m), fingering (m/f), butt stuff but it’s SEXY, explicit sex, crying, jungkook likes to be praised, soft koo, dom reader... but like soft, spitting in mouth, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, this is so soft, that good smut, literally like 7.5k of filth

>>notes: hot girls eat ass!! oc is a hot girl!! this involves butt stuff (just mouth and fingers, no pegging 😔), so if that isn’t ur cup of tea just read pt 1 again lol, i separated it this way in case there were people who weren’t down to go down... iykyk. but with that said, i encourage u to open ur eyes and ur mind and give this a chance 🤩

>>summary: jk finally lets you eat his ass 😁👍🏻

pt. 1 | pt. 2 | pt. 3

It’s day 6 of trying to get Jeongguk to let you eat his ass. It’s getting hard to function, and the sun doesn’t shine as bright as it used to. The week has been a rough one, filled with clenched butt cheeks, and fewer blow jobs than normal. You just can’t seem to stop yourself from wandering south when you’re down there, so you’ve lost the privilege. Constantly met with Jeongguk’s laughter filled eyes when he pulls you up to where you’re supposed to be, and a “You should not want to eat my ass this bad.”

He just doesn’t understand.

Currently you’re sat in the cafeteria with your friends, your eyes consistently roaming to a table across the large room. He’s laughing at something and his hands are clapping in front of him as he throws his head back. You rest your head on your arms, pouting, and you breathe a deep and miserable sigh.

“Alright y/n what the fuck?” Your friend Yuna says, flicking your cheeks.

Her speaking up causes a few of your other girlfriends at the table to direct their attention towards you. “Yeah, you’ve been like... pouty for the last few days. What’s going on?” Cho questions as well.

You debate keeping the silly internal struggle to yourself before giving in and stating plainly, “Gguk won’t let me eat his ass.” You blow absently at a piece of hair that falls into your face, eyes crossing as you look at it. Next to you, Jiwoo chokes on the zero cal drink that she’s been sipping.

Yuna stares at you blankly for a moment before recovering. “That’s... well that’s a predicament.” She hums in thought. “Does he actually not want to or is he just being shy and stubborn?”

“Second one.” You say. You’ve known your boyfriend for years and you’ve definitely learned how to tell when he’s being serious and when he’s just being stubborn. If you really thought he wasn’t about it you would have dropped it. But you know Jeongguk’s just being difficult because he thinks it’s funny to make you pine, and actually has at least some curiosity about the act. He just won’t admit it.

“Minjun was the same way,” Cho nods in solidarity. “But he likes it now.”

“How’d you get him to change his mind?” You ask perking up. A beacon of hope.

“We watched porn of it together.”

“That’s how I discovered it!” You gasp.

You pull your phone out to text your boyfriend.

you:

minjun let’s cho eat his ass 🥺

You watch Jeongguk from across the room and see the moment he receives the text. He searches the lunch room before his eyes land on yours and he let’s out an incredulous harsh laugh, before shaking his head slightly to himself. You glance at your phone and see the text bubble appear in your messages.

koo 🥴:

maybe he’ll let you eat it too 🥺

You gape at your phone and look at your boyfriend only to see him talking to his friends again. He gives you a side glance and you see his smile grow bigger as he tries to ignore you.

~~~

Jeongguk’s sitting at his lunch table picking at the food in front of him listening as Jimin rambles about the not-so-great grade he got on his latest science test. “Why the fuck do I need to know that the sun will make it too hot for life to exist on earth in a couple billion years? Not only will I be dead, but that is just anxiety inducing.”

His phone that’s vibrating on the table catches his attention, a picture message from you on the home screen. He gets a little excited at the sheer potential that a picture message has and opens it eagerly. Sure the chances of getting a titty pic when it’s mid-day and you’re both in the middle of a lunch cafeteria are small... but they are never zero.

When he opens the message and sees the picture, he laughs loudly before clapping his hand over his mouth to quiet himself.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

He’s about to respond when Taehyung says, “Alright, you can’t keep laughing at your phone and not tell us what’s so funny.”

Jeongguk looks at the couple in front of him a trace of a smile still lingers on his lips. He shows them what you sent. “Y/n wants to eat my ass so bad.” He laughs to himself, going back to his phone.

“Are you not letting her?” Jimin asks.

Jeongguk sets his phone to the side before he gets to respond. It’s clear his friends are ready to have a conversation about it. “I don’t think so.”

Jimin and Taehyung look at each other and smirk. “Why not? It feels really good.”

He looks between them silently before asking, “You’ve done it?” He receives two nods.

“This one’s a real ass-muncher.” Taehyung says jerking a thumb at his boyfriend. Jimin swats at him.

“He says like that like its a bad thing and like he doesn’t cum from just my mouth and my fingers.” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Jeongguk tenses and turns a little red. A little tremor of heat coursing through his body at the thought of feeling so good that he could cum without even having a hand around himself. “Just from that? No dick touching? Is that even possible?”

“Oh to be straight and oblivious to the wonders of butt stuff.” Jimin pouts at him like he feels bad for him.

Taehyung on the other hand is a bit more helpful. He pops a fry in his mouth and talks with his mouth full, “It’s possible. We have like a button in our ass that’s like... magic. You know what a prostate is right?”

Jeongguk scoffs. “Obviously.”

“Okay well let her put her fingers and tongue in your ass then, if you know so much about it. Have you eaten hers?”

“Yeah I’ve had my tongue in every crevice of that girls body.” He’s nodding and smiling like he’s proud. He glances at you, and he sees you huddled next to your friend, looking closely at something on her phone, your long hair falling like a curtain over your shoulder, some pooling on the table. You look so pretty. You feel his stare, and look at him. Your smile is soft, and your lips pucker in a little kiss. Chuu.

“Right,” Jimin says bringing Jeongguk back to the topic at hand, “Well if she let you, and you’re open to it you should let her... like it will actually feel better for you than it probably did for her.” Jeongguk looks like he’s about to defend his honor and sex skills, before Jimin cuts him off, “Not saying you didn’t do it right or whatever. It’s just that guys are like programmed to like it... like biologically or- something.”

“Or something.” Jeongguk repeats.

“Why don’t you want to in the first place? Is it because you think it’s gay?” Taehyung asks laughing, knowing that that’s not why.

Jeongguk gives him a bored deadpanned stare. “No. Maybe it’s because I shit out of my ass and don’t want her mouth near it? She’s perfect, she doesn’t deserve that.”

Jimin cackles. “Well it’s not like you just let her go for it! You have to prepare.”

Jeongguk sits and listens as his friends give him nothing less than a full comprehensive lecture on the logistics of ass eating and ass getting ate. Ass 101. He’s still unsure but hearing from guys who have actually done it and enjoyed it makes him feel a bit more open and curious. It has him pulling out his phone and tentatively typing out a text to you, finally replying to the picture you sent.

me:

i’m thinking about it

He watches you, waiting for the text to get to you. He smiles when he sees you get excited at seeing his name on your home screen, something warm blossoming in his chest. He struggles to keep his face straight when he sees your head whip up, looking at him wide-eyed like you can’t believe what he just texted you. His fingers wiggle in a small wave, and the biggest smile slowly crawls across your face. He receives one last message before lunch ends.

baby 🥺💘😏🧠🙄👊🏻:

say less, sir 🤤

~~~

Jeongguk lays on his back patiently, looking down at you below him while you take your time planting soft kisses all the way down his body. He was in a quite docile mood considering all the pestering you’ve put him through the past few days. And despite what you both knew you had planned for him. Something he claimed to be nervous about, but you supposed one could be nervous and excited and pliant all at once.

When you take one of his nipples into your mouth he lets out a soft “oh...” his hands flying up like he wants to wrap them in your hair, hold you there till he’s pleased, but he catches himself when his arms are halfway raised. He brings them back down by his sides, fists the sheets like he’s holding himself back, like he wants to be good for you. As you lick and suck on the paired nipple, feeling it pebble in your mouth, you watch  Jeongguk’s mouth fall open silently while his eyebrows furrow and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between them. His cock is steadily going from warm and plump to hot and hard and leaking, you can feel it twitch against your lower belly.

He opens his eyes to watch you and you can see his pupils are blown and you smile up at him, a tiny bud still pulled between your teeth and Jeongguk whines. A high pitch needy, breathy noise falls from his lips before he pulls his bottom one between his teeth. His head turns to the side, baring his neck in subconscious submission, and God. He doesn’t get like this often but when he does? He is the prettiest sight.

Heat pools in your belly and your panties are already sticking to your bottom half. You hum before moving your ministrations to his torso, soft wet open mouth kisses being placed any and everywhere, prolonged ones on each of his abs. He works so hard for his body, his physique. It’s something he does for himself, but you feel lucky that you get to see him like this in all of his glory.

“Thank you.” You say as you place a kiss on the tattoo he has on his hip bone.

He hums, “For what?”

“For letting me see you like this,” You finally wrap a hand around his cock. You bite your lip when you feel it jump in your palm, “For letting me explore today. You’re so sexy, and so lovely, and so perfect. You work so hard, baby.” Kisses, so many kisses planted over his groin area, but never where he wants it most.

He huffs and you can see a flush from embarrassment darken the already present flush of arousal, due to the praise and mention of exploring. He squirms in your hold, not wanting to talk, probably wishing you would just get on with it already. Surely you can feel him throbbing in your hand, right?

Finally, you bring your lips to his frenulum and place the softest kitten lick to it and Jeongguk positively keens in your hold. You stroke his cock, squeezing on the upstroke to watch a bead of precum well at the top. It glistens, shiny and clear, at the pink head. You wrap your lips around the tip fully, lapping and swirling your tongue over it, humming at the heady, slightly bitter taste on your tongue. It’s not particularly pleasant per se but it’s sexy. The fact you get him so worked up that his cock can’t help but leak, so worked up that he can’t help the soft little whines that fall from his lips; the fact that he gets so turned on and hard and wet just from a few of your kisses and licks makes you moan with his cock in your mouth, thighs squeezing together for some type of pressure and relief.

You pop off with a harsh suck. “I can’t wait to taste you.” You groan, licking a broad stripe up his cock with the flat of your tongue.

He grumbles quietly shifting, sort of like he’s antsy and frustrated. He knows what you mean and he knows you don’t mean his cock that you just had in your mouth.

“What was that?” You ask through a smile, nipping at his hip with your teeth.

“Can you stop talking about it and just suck my dick so I can forget you’re even gonna do that?” He rolls his eyes and pouts down at you with a tiny scowl on his face.

“Oh baby,” You laugh, not patronizingly, but there is a little bit of a teasing lilt to your voice, “Are you still embarrassed?”

He doesn’t answer, just scowls harder if that was even possible.

You move away from his cock, and up his body. His eyes reflect panic and his hands finally move from the sheets to press on your shoulders, trying to keep you in place. “No, stay,” he whines.

You laugh again pushing against his hold before finally settling half on his chest. You rest a leg over his thigh, keeping your body close and pressed to his. You look into his big brown doe eyes that are slightly glassy from all the teasing. You can see some apprehension and nervousness swimming in them as you place a hand on his cheek, stroking softly. He closes his eyes and nuzzles into your palm before his hand comes up to hold your wrist, to just touch some more. His other hand runs up and down your body that’s resting half on top of him, tickling slightly like your the one that needs attention. He kisses your hand that’s on his cheek softly before looking at you again.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” You say quietly, thumb brushing over his cheek bone.

His eyes fall closed again and you can see his brow furrow once more, though this time it isn’t out of pleasure it’s because he’s thinking. Despite all the playful teasing and pestering and banter, you’ve always made sure to check that he was actually okay with you going down there. And, yeah, he was nervous but after talking about it seriously and doing some research together he always said he was fine with it. But you know things can change in the moment and you just want to double check, make sure that he still feels that way.

You hum in question gently, prompting a response.

He huffs, tightening his grip on your wrist, a nervous gesture. His eyes are still closed when he quietly says, “No I just... I- I’m not like backing out...”

“You can though.” You interrupt.

His eyes open quickly, and he shakes his head. “No, no I want to I just...” His voice starts off strong but tappers into a softer tone. “I want to I just feel a bit like... weird.”

Your brow furrows this time. “Why, baby?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t want you to.” He doesn’t meet your eyes and you can feel his cheek heat up in your palm.

Ahhhh, you think. Although you talked and teased about the topic, you realize that while Jeongguk agreed (whilst impishly feigning a faux diswant on principle) you never realized that the lighthearted “You shouldn’t want to eat my ass this bad” remarks may have stemmed from something serious, and weren’t just playful protests.

“Why do you feel that way?” You press gently.

His eyes flicker to you and then to your mouth, then back to something (nothing) off to the side. He has a small not-so-amused smile on his lips when he says, “It’s kinda taboo isn’t it?”

You can’t help but giggle at the word he used. Taboo. Out of all the things you guys have done, this is what he chooses to get shy about. Sweet boy.

“Not any more tabooo than you wanting to eat my ass, or fuck my ass.” You hum at him, stretching out the word in a teasing manner, making him look at you. You smile at him before continuing, “Or you like slapping me, or me gagging you with my panties, or-“

“Okay okay! I get it.” He laughs and places a kiss to your lips to get them to stop moving.

You beam, glad to see he’s a bit more relaxed. The boner however, is definitely gone, but that can be fixed.

“I’m not trying to convince you though.” You emphasize, “I only want to if you want to.”

He nods, softly smiling at you. “I want to.”

A salacious grin takes over your face and you sigh softly into his ear before whispering, “Perfect... I’m going to make you feel so good baby, make you feel so good with my tongue. Get you all whiny and red and sweaty. Maybe your legs will start to shake from how good it feels? Do you want that, Jeongguk?” You nip at his ear lobe as you feel a slight tremor run through his body. Your hips subtly roll against the side of his body, seeking any friction at this point. You feel him nod. “Maybe if you like my mouth enough we can use fingers when you’re ready baby.” You hear him suck in a sharp breath and slowly let it out on a shaky exhale. You grin and place a kiss to his temple before continuing. “Get them inside of you to find that spot that will really set you off. The spot that will make you cum for me. Wouldn’t that feel so good baby?”

He nods again and you can feel the hand that has been running up and down your back throughout the conversation grip at your ass roughly.

“Say it baby, I wanna hear you.”

He whines and struggles against the hand on his face that is now gripping his jaw, still putting up a little bit of a fight about wanting something he considers “taboo”. But he gives in easily enough when he realizes you won’t continue until you get more confirmation that he genuinely wants this, and is excited to have it.

“It’s gonna feel so good y/n. God, you’re gonna make me feel so good.” He’s shy when he says it, but he’s almost panting as well. At last, he’s giving in and admitting to himself that this is something that will feel good and is okay to want.

He grips your face and kisses you. It starts slow and tentative but quickly manifests into a kiss that is deep and hard, one that is full of lust and neediness. He bites at your lip needing to release some of the pent up frustration but at your whine of pain he licks over it apologetically, placing softer kisses instead for a moment before he rests his forehead against yours, both your breathing is ragged for a minute until he speaks up.

“Please y/n. I’m so hard.” He pleads in a soft whisper.

You take a second and look down between your bodies and sure enough, his cock has returned to full hardness, and your mouth waters seeing even more precum welling at the tip than before.

“I’m gonna suck it.”

“Please do.” Jeongguk laughs as you move down his body, but the laugh goes high pitched and breathy when you take him down your throat immediately.

“Fuck...” he sighs, his head falling back and eyes fluttering.

You pull off and close your eyes, relishing in the fact that you can make him feel like this. Grinning against his cock you place a kitten kiss to the shaft. “Good baby?”

He nods his head. “Yes yes, please keep going.”

You hum against the head causing Jeongguk to exhale sharply, hips twitching due to the vibrations. He’s so sensitive and you crave the reactions you pull from him. Whether they’re the soft noises and the small twitches or the loud moans and jerking muscles, they are all equally loved and desired.

Quickly you pull off and reach up placing your hand under his mouth, before he can protest at you pausing again. Maybe you’re being a little mean, but he sounds so pretty when he’s desperate and you just can’t help yourself.

“Spit.” You instruct.

You see him work his jaw, sharp edges protruding here and there while he gathers some in his mouth before spitting it into your hand. You peck a nipple on the way back down to his cock wrapping the spit filled hand around him. You see him watching you and you hold eye contact as you gather some of your own and let it drool from your mouth landing on the tip of his cock. You swear you see his eyes go impossibly darker, his jaw clenching, hands turning to fists in the sheets beneath you both.

When you stroke, mixing everything, his eyes close and he lets out a breath through his nose as he rests back and gets a little more comfortable. It’s not too messy, just the perfect amount of wetness for the glide to be slick and pleasing for him. You tighten your grip and twist under the head watching as the muscles in his stomach and thighs tense, a soft grunt draws your gaze to his face.

“Yeah... like that...” he whispers. He’s just barely rocking his hips into your hands, trying to be subtle while also trying to chase the feeling.

You speed up your hand, keeping up the movements he likes while adding your tongue to flick at the underside of his head. You glance at him and find him watching you again, a fucked out look on his face, mouth slightly parted and a bead of sweat running down his temple. Slowly you sink down watching him till you can’t anymore, burying the tip of your nose in the soft patch of neatly kept hair at the base of his cock. When you feel him hit the back of your throat you contract it and shake your head from side to side and finally, finally you pull out one of his loud and unrestrained moans. It goes straight to your pussy, making it feel like it’s pulsing in your panties.

You come up for a breath before you stay down as long as you can repeating the same actions that pulled the lovely moans from his throat and you continue to hear them as you feel him start to sink his hips, almost like he’s overwhelmed and trying to pull away from how good it feels, like he can’t handle how how good it feels.

In your peripheral vision you can see his hands twitching like he’s fighting with himself before he gives in and sinks them into your hair, pulling slightly before pushing your head down and bringing his hips back up. He’s not fucking your face, but he let’s his cock sink as far back as it can and let’s you work your throat around him, lets himself get overwhelmed instead of pulling away from the feeling like he was before.  

Jeongguk was a head pusher in every sense of the term. Some people hated when their partners did that, but you loved it. You loved it because Jeongguk was different from most head pushers. He had variety. Sometimes he liked pushing your head down and holding you there to choke you and watch tears form in your eyes, to watch your makeup run while you struggled to breathe. Sometimes he did it in a face-fucking way, his hips jackhammering while he moved your head up and down just the way he wanted it. This time though, he held your head down in a begging way. In a way that said “Oh god please, please don’t stop, it feels so fucking good, please stay there forever”.

Jeongguk is whimpering above you and you hum and moan loudly sending strong vibrations up your throat and down his cock and he’s thrashing, throwing his head back, grip in your hair tightening, a pleasant pain on your scalp.

“Oh my fucking god,” He groans, neck extended and his eyes squeezed shut.

His whole body is burning when you bring a hand down to massage his balls while still moving your throat against his tip and then all of a sudden he tenses and stills before he’s pulling you off, frantically chanting “Stop it, stop it.”

At lightening speed you grip the base of his cock, squeezing, trying to keep his orgasm at bay. Jeongguk’s whole body jerks with his cock, but no cum leaks out, only precum and spit making a mess on his angry, swollen cock. He relaxes back for a moment, cock still jumping, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath and you do the same and after you slowly release the hold you have on his cock you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand.

Suddenly your world is blurry and you’re quickly being pulled to his chest and smothered with his hands on your cheeks, and his lips everywhere they can reach.

“God. You’re so good, so so good y/n. So perfect, make me feel so good baby. How do you do it?” He praises you between kisses and you giggle, gently pawing at his chest to get him to stop or at least slow down.

He does and you take a second to look at him. And he’s glowing. His eyes are shining, like he was close to tears and his cheeks are flushed. His sweaty hair sticks to his forehead in places while the longer pieces are fanned out on the pillow underneath him. And his smile. He’s beaming and you are so in love.

You bring a hand up and brush some sweaty strands back off his face. His eyes close and he pushes into the touch like a kitten wanting pets. He sighs contentedly.

“You’re so beautiful, Jeongguk. So pretty.” You whisper, placing a kiss to his forehead.

You bring your hand down from his hair and cradle his cheek, running your thumb over his plump, red bottom lip. You can see faint teeth marks underneath it from where he was biting it. His eyelashes flutter on his cheek as his eyes close and he sighs quietly before he nibbles on the fingertip with his front teeth and then takes the whole thing into his mouth, sucking on it. You gasp quietly, and apply light pressure pushing down on the wetness of his tongue prying his mouth open and he just lets you.

Your lips find his, and you dip your tongue into his open mouth before your hand moves to his jaw to keep it agape and you fuck your tongue into it.

“This is how my tongue is gonna fuck you...” you whisper.

He whines high and needy, and his hands move to cup your cheeks. You moan before settling over him more comfortably and pushing your soaked panties to the side before wiggling till his cock is settled between your lips.

The night was supposed to be about him, but you need something before you lose it. You move your hips in small little thrusts, the length of his cock rubbing deliciously over you clit. You both gasp into each others mouths. The hands on your ass encourage you, pressing into your cheeks and the small of your back whenever you thrust forward, and the thumbs on your hips push when you grind back.

“Holy fuck you’re so wet.” He’s says it like he’s in awe, like he can’t believe it. Like he hasn’t made you this way so many times before.

You rest your forehead on his while continuing to grind on his cock. “Love you like this...” You grip his jaw again and pry it open, even though you know he would open willingly if you just asked. You look in his eyes searching, before you feel him nod in your hold. You lean forward over his mouth and let some spit fall into it, he moans while he eagerly drinks it down.

His grip on your hips tightens and you feel his cock jerk against your clit, but he’s good. He doesn’t cum.

“I love it too... just not all the time... it’s- a lot. Overwhelming.” He whispers, and you coo.

“I know baby, you’re doing so well. Color?” You ask.

“Green.” He answers without hesitation.

You smile and kiss him. “Wanna keep going?”

He flushes when he nods his head. “Please.”

Once again you find yourself between Jeongguk’s legs. You play with his cock a little before smoothing your hands under his thighs, trying to gently push them up and back but he whines and resists.

“You have to let me see baby.” You say, a smile in your voice.

Jeongguk squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath before slowly letting his legs fall apart.

You hum, before saying, “Hand me a pillow please.”

He’s confused but does as you ask, understanding when you tap the side of his cheek with instructions to lift his hips, pillow settling underneath his ass and lower back, propping them up a little.

You settle back down on your tummy, and open his legs again. Jeongguk says nothing but you can feel his body shaking a little with a constant tremor. He takes a deep breath settling back into the pillow he placed behind his head so he can watch what you do next.

“Ready?” You ask, hands gripping at the meaty inside parts of his thighs. You get a stiff nod, but still no noises. You pout but get started by running your tongue flat over his balls, hoping to ease him into it.

You feel his thighs tense, as you lap at the hairless balls, sucking them into your mouth every once in a while. Your eyes constantly flicker to Jeongguk’s face to make sure there’s nothing wrong, but all you see is pleasure on his face while he breathes out in soft little puffs through his nose. His eyes are hooded and his lip is drawn between his teeth.

You hold his heady gaze and you place your first little lick on his perineum. At the contact, his head falls back, mouth hanging open. You wiggle closer to place a kiss to the area, transitioning to quick little flicks of your tongue and Jeongguk moans, and you watch as he spreads a bit more, lifting his feet so his knees are pulled closer to his chest, giving you easier access. You moan at his eagerness, and have to stop for a minute, putting a hand between your legs to just press on your center for some kind of relief.

His eyes are still closed, like he doesn’t want to see you between his legs licking at his most private area, but his quiet whining and restless shifting is enough to let you know that he’s okay and enjoying it.

You bring your hands up and place one on each of his cheeks, squeezing a little, admiring the soft give of his muscles. He’s so plush. You apply pressure so his legs fall farther back and then spread him apart. You bite your lip and your mouth waters at the thought of how good your going to make him feel.

Tentatively you poke your tongue out and trace it around the little ring of muscle. He gasps and tries to clench and close his legs but you hold them in place.

“It’s okay baby.”

“‘S weird...” He mumbles.

“I know. Just try to relax for me, okay?”

You hear him take a few deep breaths before you feel his body shake with a nod. His legs fall open again and you make quick work of his hole, placing your tongue flat over it, dragging all the way up to where his balls meet his perineum.

“Ohhh,” He breathes out.

You take that as a good sign before getting a bit rougher with your actions, less of the tentative licks and more of some tight sucking and quick flicking. He’s doing so well and you can hear him moaning above you. His cock is so hard and swollen on his belly, neglected and leaking.

“Pull your legs back baby.”

He opens his eyes and they are unfocused. It takes him a second to process what you asked him to do, but once he does he moves quickly. He has a hazy look in his eyes, his mouth in parted slightly, and his tongue peaks out to wet his lips as he gets comfortable in the new position.

“Watch me?” You plead, while licking over his hole again, eyes not leaving him waiting for a response.

His eyes close for just a moment and a wrinkle of pleasure forms between his brows and his cock jumps, a little spurt of precum oozing out. He inhales and opens his eyes on the exhale, breathing out a small “Okay.”

Once you start to figure out what he likes and what makes him happy, all you hear is the steadily getting louder pleased noises falling from his lips. You point your tongue and gently push past the tight ring of muscles and Jeongguk sobs. He brings a hand to his face and rubs over it, before throwing his arm over his face, hiding because he’s so overwhelmed. To your surprise he starts to gently rock against your tongue.

“Oh my god you’re so hot Jeongguk,” You moan.

“Don’t stop,” He begs. He sounds close to tears.

“Touch yourself, baby.”

You wait until you see his hand wrap around his cock giving himself a few slow strokes, wet eyes on you, waiting for you to keep going.

As soon as your mouth meets him again, his hand he has on his cock starts moving faster, almost frantically over his length and his hips are stuttering like he doesn’t know if he wants to fuck his hand or if he wants to fuck himself back onto your tongue. You decide for him and hold his hips close to your face, sucking repeatedly on the ring of fluttering muscle.

Jeongguk gasps, “I’m close, I wanna cum y/n- Please, I-“ His head falls back and his hand doesn’t slow.

You give your hum of approval against his hole, and watch him fall apart.

His head is thrown back and he’s so sweaty from working so hard for his release. His chest rises and falls in quick staccato breaths, and his free hand goes up to a nipple, lightly rubbing his thumb over it and he keens, before he goes silent, whole body stuttering and he chokes out nothing more than a quick, quiet “Cumming” before his cock pulses and shoots out 1, 2, 3 stripes of white, the rest dribbling down his length and over his fingers. His body almost convulses from the pleasure coursing through his veins. He keeps stroking, and he lets you keep licking until he squirms, uncomfortable from the overstimulation.

You wipe your mouth and immediately make your way up to his face, straddling his hips. You don’t care about the cum, but you’re carful to avoid his sensitive cock, which is a little deflated but still laying somewhat hard on his tummy. You’re both out of breath when you slam your lips against his so it’s more gasping into each other’s mouths while your lips occasionally meet before you need a breath again. But you’re desperate to show him how good he did.

You pull back and grip his face in your hands. His hands hold your wrists, like he’s keeping them in place on his cheeks. He’s still catching his breath with his eyes closed, but you want him to see how proud you are.

“Jeongguk, look at me.”

He does and his eyes are glassy and wet and his eyelashes are clumped together with unshed tears. He offers you a sheepish smile.

“You did so good baby. So fucking good. I love you.” You pepper kisses over his face.

He laughs breathlessly, “Didn’t get to your fingers...”

You laugh with him quietly. “That’s okay baby, we can do that next time. You were perfect.” You take a deep breath and collapse on top of him, resting your face in the crook of his neck, smiling while leaving small lovebites all over.

After a minute or so though, you feel him start to get restless underneath you.

“What is it baby?” You ask not really moving much.

He mumbles something into the top of your head.

“Huh?” You say sitting up to look at him.

He looks kinda petulant for someone who just came so hard it hit their neck.

He mumbles again.

“Koo. Words.”

He blushes and scowls looking away from you but the hands settled on your hips rub small circles into your hip bones, showing he’s not actually mad and most likely just being a brat.

“I want them now.” It’s quiet and pouty, but at least you understand him this time.

Your mouth opens in understanding but your eyebrows raise in surprise. You look over your shoulder and down to see his cock still laying plump and hard on his stomach in a little puddle of cum.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, I know we said that was the plan but we can always do it ano-“

He grabs the back of your neck pulls you down to kiss you deep and slow, his tongue finding it’s way into your mouth. When he speaks again it’s soft against your lips.

“Please y/n... it felt so good,” A tiny peck is given as your noses touch.

You exhale a shaky breath, “Yeah, okay. If that’s what you want.”

He kisses you deeply again, but positions you over his cock so he can rut up into your pussy.

“Can’t you feel how bad I want it?” He whispers against your lips. He nips at the bottom one while smiling before pulling away and settling against the pillows again, looking at you expectantly once he gets comfortable.

You roll your eyes playfully. “Big words coming from someone who claimed they didn’t even want this like an hour ago.” You smile down at him, eyes sparkling.

He snickers. He breathes a deep sigh before settling back even more. “Yeah. That was before I came so hard that I almost blacked out.” His hands are behind his head and his eyes are closed like he’s reminiscing about a distant memory, a smug smile on his lips.

“You switch from being my baby to a pain so fast.” You pout as you settle once again between Jeongguk’s legs.

He parts them with a hum. “Still your baby... just- make me feel good please, I’m like so hard- throbbing.”

You suck on your fingers a little bit to get them wet before circling one around the ring of muscles. You don’t miss the tiny gasp, or the way his legs subconsciously part even wider.

“I don’t think it’s gonna feel the best at first....” You warn, applying the slightest pressure to his hole, before going back to circling it. “Hand me the lube on the nightstand please.”

Jeongguk obliges before he says, “I know just... go slow.” He sounds just a little bit nervous.

You give a quick nod while you open up Jeongguk’s half empty bottle of lube and drizzle some onto your fingers, lathering it over them to warm it some before getting them into position.

“Do you think about me when you use this?” you ask still running your slick fingers over him.

He nods and licks his lips subconsciously. “Mhmm sometimes.”

You fake gasp and bite at his knee by your side. You’re sitting crisscross applesauce in between his legs. “Only sometimes?”

“I watch porn too,” He giggles breathlessly. “Sometimes I look for girls that look like you though, if that helps.”

“It does not.” You say indignantly, only half joking.

He brings his foot up and lightly kicks at your leg. “You watch porn too that’s literally why we are in this mess right now. We watched it together.”

You full on laugh at that. He has a point. “Okay enough, hush and relax baby.”

You weren’t sure if it was better to warn Jeongguk, or just slowly ease him into it without saying anything. If you warned him you knew he would tense up and it would just make it harder on his body, but you also didn’t want to take him by surprise either.

You must have just been circling his rim for a minute because Jeongguk huffs before asking, “Are you gonna like... put it in or...?”

You take that as a go, and peck the inside of his thigh a preemptive apology because you knew it was going to hurt a little. Jeongguk had prepped you for the times you tried anal with him and you vividly remember the sting before it became bearable. Your hands and fingers were much smaller than his, and certainly much smaller than his cock, so you are hoping the pain isn’t too horrible and ends quickly.

Oh so slowly you start to sink your middle finger inside of him. He sucks in a breath through his teeth and when you flick your eyes up to look at him you can see his eyes squeezed shut tightly and his jaw clenched.

“I’m sorry are you okay? Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “Doesn’t really hurt yet, it’s just uncomfortable... Keep going.”

You nod softly before you resume what you were doing, and once you get down to your last knuckle, you wiggle your finger around inside for a second like you had seen in the porn that you and him watched together, hoping to stretch him out some.

Above you Jeongguk is taking shallow breaths the sort of sound like they are getting a little higher pitched at the end, and he shifts and wiggles a bit because of the foreign feeling. You glance at his cock and see that’s its gone just a little soft.

“Touching yourself might help you relax a little bit and it might make it feel a little bit better.” You suggest lightly.

Jeongguk doesn’t say anything but he does as he’s told, slowly stroking his cock back to it’s full length.

“That’s it, good boy. I can feel you’re less tense already.” You praise, and you start to move your finger in and out. It’s tight, but there’s a lot less resistance. You move them just a bit faster and focus on Jeongguk’s reactions.

His hand has started to move a bit faster over his cock, and his mouth is parted and his eyes are closed, like he’s lost in the feeling. There’s a flush on his face that has travelled all the way down his chest. Soft moans fall from his lips occasionally, although you can’t tell if that’s from you or him touching himself.

“Does it feel good?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“It feels…” He pauses like he’s unsure. “It feels… nice. I think.”

You snort. “You think?”

He laughs a little breathless, hand still stroking over his cock. “I mean it’s weird. But it’s not unpleasant. I could probably cum if I kept touching my dick.”

“Don’t cum, I haven’t found your button yet.” Your eyebrows furrow, determination set on your face.

“I do not have a button.” He says absently.

“You do. I’m gonna do the second one kay?”

“I don’t and okay.”

You ignore him and grab the lube again, adding a bit more. Your fingers find their place and as they start to sink in, Jeongguk sucks a sharp breath through his teeth, and goes rigid. You wince.

“Hurts…” He says quietly.

“I’m sorry baby.” You rub your free hand over his thigh, trying to comfort him. You give him a moment, he takes a few breaths before saying to keep going.

It takes a little bit but eventually you get both fingers in. Jeongguk isn’t feeling good yet, teeth grinding, body tense, and hands fisted in the sheets trying to ground himself, but you are determined to make it good for him. You get on your stomach and add your tongue to your fingers as you start to pull them out just to push them back in. The lube doesn’t taste very good, but the way that Jeongguk’s breath hitches when he feels your mouth on him again makes up for it.

“I- I love that.” He says, voice airy and soft as he turns his head to the side and into his shoulder like he’s trying to hide.

“Mmm, starting to feel good now baby?” You ask, flicking your tongue while your fingers start to sink in easily.

“Yeah, ‘s good…” He mumbles.

Once you’re sure that there’s no pain at all for Jeongguk, you start to crook your fingers inside of him on every thrust in trying to find that secret spot of his. Jeongguk sounds lovely while you’re searching, but the way he sounds when you finally hit it is like nothing you’ve heard from him before. It’s like he gets punched in the gut and looses his breath, a moan getting caught in his throat for a moment before he exhales a high pitched whine. You didn’t get to see it, too focused, but you know his eyes rolled back.

“There,” he breathes.

You moan as you rest your head against his thigh, focusing on your attention on your fingers and hitting that spot every time you move them inside of him. Each time you hit it sweet moans are punched out, or quiet affirmations are whispered. “Yes, please, more…”.

He has that look of pleasure on his face, the scrunched eyebrows, the parted mouth. He’s fidgety, and fussy like he just wants more but doesn’t know how to get it. He huffs, annoyed, before he starts to push back on your fingers.

“God… you’re so desperate for it,” You whisper completely captivated by how much pleasure Jeongguk looks like he’s in.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Until you start to put a constant pressure on his prostate, rubbing.

“Oh fuck- I-“ He looks down to where your fingers are like he can’t believe the way they are making him feel before he throws his head back and let’s out a deep groan.

He lets you make him feel good, let’s the pleasure build up in his body until you start to feel him tense. His whines start to come out more frequently, almost constant moans filling the air. So noisy. His legs open more and you see how his toes curl in the sheets.

“Oh my god I think I’m gonna cum,” It’s said breathlessly, almost confused. Like he didn’t think that he would actually be able to cum just from your fingers inside of him, hands still at his sides fisted in the sheets.

“Yeah baby?” You ask, voice airy.

He nods, tongue poking out of his mouth like he’s concentrating.

Your arm hurts, but you keep thrusting and rubbing over that spot inside of him. His muscles are strained, and next to your body, you can see his legs start to tremble. His breathing is fast and short. His cock is fat and swollen laying in a puddle of precum, it looks like it hurts with how red it is. You take you other hand and start to rub on his perineum, stimulating him on the outside as well as the inside and that’s when he loses it.

He let’s out a choked cry before his body jerks up, curling in on itself. “Oh fuck I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m cumming-“

You don’t let up, an awestruck smiling forming on your face as you watch Jeongguk fall apart on your fingers. He’s so tight around them, it’s like his body is begging you not to stop, keeping you in place. He feels like every hair on his body is standing on end and like his skin is overly receptive and sensitive to every little thing. Wave after wave of ecstasy is flowing over him. His whole body trembles, yet his cock doesn’t jerk like with his other orgasm. This time it just pulses flat on his stomach, cum leaking out of the tip adding to the mess that was already there. With every pulse of his cock, Jeongguk’s body curls more, back raise off the bed, abs flexed due to the strain on his core. The look on his face is one of indescribable pleasure. It’s obscene. After the final pulse of his cock, he falls back, absolutely spent.

Your fingers slowly come to a stop, and you carefully remove them from him and wipe them on the bed before you crawl over his thigh and flop down by his side. You peck his cheek, staying quiet this time, not wanting to overwhelm him. He’s still has tremors running through his body when he turns his head to look at you. His chest is heaving and his eyes are droopy, but there’s a sleepy smile on his lips. He curls onto his side so you guys are facing each other.

The silence is thick and heavy but not in a suffocating way. More so in a comforting way. The atmosphere feels like you both are wrapped in a weighted blanket, just relishing in the warm afterglow of what you did together.

You wiggle closer, hook a thigh over his hip. “How was it? Did you like it?” You don’t know why but you sound shy, kinda nervous.

He simply nods, a soft smile on his face as he brushes some hair behind your ear, hand coming to rest on your cheek for just a few seconds before it’s sliding down your arm, down your hip, playing with lacy top of your panties. He bumps noses with you, breathing in your exhales before he closes his eyes and fits his lips between yours. His hand slips into your panties.

You open easily for him, angling yourself mostly on your back so it’s easier for him to reach where you want him most. He sighs into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. He dips between your lips and you gasp, hand going down to grip at his wrist willing him not to tease, to not move his hand away.

“Don’t worry, I just wanna make you feel good baby.” He coos in your ear as his middle finger starts to rub slowly over your clit.

You let out soft whimpers at the slow pace that makes the fire in your belly curl and steadily grow.

“Jeongguk, I’m already close…” You warn.

“Mmm, that’s it baby. Want you to cum for me, like I came for you.” His finger speeds up some. “Fuck, you made me cum so hard y/n. Made me crazy. You always do.” He moans gently into your ear.

You nod, and your legs begin to tremble. “Don’t stop,” You beg, meaning both his fingers and his words.

“You wanna know what it felt like? You wanna know what you did to me?” He presses a touch harder, and nips are your cheek.

You nod again, subtly rocking your hips into his touch.

“You made me cum untouched y/n. Do you know how good you had to fuck me in order for that to happen? God, it was so intense, and I was just leaking so much the whole time. You did that to me baby, you made me feel that good. Fuck, I wanna make you feel that good too, please cum for me y/n. I know you’re close, I know your body just as well as you know mine.” He sounds desperate, just yearning to get you there. “I can tell by the way your legs are shaking, and the way you can’t stop whining my name. Sound so pretty baby, just for me. Your hand on my wrist is gripping so hard, like you can’t take what my fingers are doing to you. But you’re gonna take it and give me what I want right? Just like I gave you what you wanted, hmm?”

“Fuck, Jeongguk I’m cumming,” You cry, his words and his fingers making you shake and finally get the release that you’ve been putting off the whole night. Your thighs close over his hand but Jeongguk doesn’t let up, not until you’re cumming for the second time in a span of minutes.

“Please- I can’t-“ You squirm, and wiggle, until his fingers slow and finally slip form your panties. You sigh in bliss, body twitching as the last bits of your climax leave your body.

You turn back to your side and snuggle all the way against Jeongguk’s body, legs intertwining. Jeongguk runs his nails over your back, making little goosebumps sprout over your body. There’s a peaceful quiet coming over you, both tired from the events of the night. Jeongguk breaks it.

“Thank you for taking care of me.” It’s a timid statement, but you can hear how much he means it.  

You kiss softly over his heartbeat. “I always will.”

“Just please don’t ever ask to peg me.”

You simply hum. “Goodnight baby.”

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

i hope you liked it!! i’m thinking of writing a smutty drabble of when oc and jk watch the porn together 🤨 let me know if you would want to read that or anymore of this universe! comments, notes, and feedback are YEARNED for. my ask is also open if you want to request, share thoughts, or just talk

part 3 here!

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Ch. 1

Shigaraki Birthday Week! MINORS DNI DO NOT PUT THIS ON TIKTOK

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x fem!reader

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: reader is marked fem cause Tomura is a little sexist and hates you cause you’re a woman, no pronouns, incel!shiggy, collage au/no quirks, tomura is an asshole, gratuitous swearing, like so much, shiggy has a dirty mouth, mentions of shigs being anxious, let me know if I’ve missed something

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Summary: Tomura gets stuck taking an English class to graduate and is partnered with you, a bitchy try hard (his words not mine) for his final project. But over the course of the semester he finds that while he hates everyone, he might hate you just a little...less. 

AO3 mirror

The door at the back of the room creaked open and jarred Tomura from his half-sleep state. He didn’t look at who’d bothered to slip into this fucking class late, and instead tried to let the prof’s inane droning on Timothy Whoever The Fuck’s 18th weirdo letter book lull him into day dreaming. 

He only made it about a quarter of the way back into his boredom induced coma until he was dragged unwillingly into wakefulness once more. 

“Sorry, could you plug this in for me?” 

Tomura jumped again when you leaned over to whisper to him, computer charger in one hand, gesturing to the outlet on the wall by his head. You’d left the typical courtesy seat empty between the two of you and he stared blankly at the way you leaned your weight on the vacant chair. 

He recognized you.

The classic, dumbass teacher's pet who was always front and center of the room, iced drink at the ready looking like you belonged on the set of some god awful college b movie. 

Well, almost always. You certainly had that loud ass drink, but you’d tucked yourself at the end of his row towards the back of the room and was clearly a bit embarrassed for bursting in almost 15 minutes late. 

Tomura swallowed hard as your shirt gaped in the front. It took an immense amount of control to not gaze outright into the swell of your chest. 

“You good?” you asked softly, head cocked like you were straight out of a fucking manga panel—tits on display with that stupid innocent, puzzled expression.  

“Uh yeah, sorry,” Tomura mumbled. 

You offered him this gross, clearly fake smile—because why the hell would you be grinning like that if it wasn’t just because you wanted something from him—as he threaded the cord behind his chair and plugged it in. 

“Thanks,” you replied and turned back towards the professor, typing away cause you actually take notes in this class. 

Of fucking course you did. 

Probably trying to impress everyone with how you typed practically every word the prof said. Tomura decidedly did not take notes, and didn’t really pay that much attention in general. Usually he just played some trashy phone game under the desk or dozed with his head against the cement wall. 

It had gotten to that portion of the semester when it was warmer outside but the buildings still had the heat cranked all the way up, especially here in the basement where the classroom was. That environment along with his usual hoodie/joggers combo created grade A napping conditions that Tomura took full advantage of. 

As a rule, he actually cared about school and he did relatively well. But this was just some dumbass liberal arts requirement course that had nothing to do with his actual major, so he was perfectly fine with coasting. Why his comp sci degree required him to take a fucking Restoration era English class, he had no clue. Apparently neither did his advisor other than that the ‘administration recommended it’ so their students would have a ‘well rounded learning experience.’ 

It was almost certainly just a cash grab to make him take more credits than was necessary to graduate, but whatever. He was here now. And so were you. Your presence was overwhelmingly clear, typing away and smelling like one of those insanely specific laundry detergent label scents—fucking rolling meadows and grandmother’s clean linen or something like that. 

He’d never sat this close to you before, but that didn’t stop you from annoying the shit out of him for the previous whole half semester and going since it was just now passing midterms. Long enough for him to have pegged you as a textbook try-hard, pick-me bitch. You contributed to discussion at every opportunity, turned in shit early, and debated other classmates regularly enough to disrupt his in-course sleep schedule. 

The way you dressed pissed him off too, with a particular style that was enough to stand out but not so over the top that it would cause disinterest from any potential mates.

And now you were filling his corner of the room with the overpowering smell of freshly washed hair and demanding he do things for you. 

Fucking disgusting. 

“Tomura Shigaraki.”

He jumped a third time, attention directed from his lap to the front of the room where the prof stood, listing out names from the board. He heard your name next followed by Kai Chisaki. The list was projected on the board as well, grouping everyone into twos or threes with “Final Project Partners” listed in bold Helvetica font at the top. 

Only fucking English profs used Helvetica. 

He vaguely remembered mentions of a final presentation—one of like three grades in this class cause the prof was almost certainly a sadist. 

No, not almost—definitely. Otherwise he wouldn’t have stuck him with you and that weirdo Kai pre-med student who insisted on acting so elitist you’d think he already had his fucking M.D. 

One time he asked Tomura to move seats at the start of the semester because he looked “dirty” and Kai liked to sit in the back—which, fair enough, it wasn’t like Tomura showered as frequently as he probably should but what the fuck??  

With you rushing in late, chest out and panting every now and again from your apparent sprint across campus, Tomura was certain he’d be subjected to a whole 6 weeks of watching you try to mount that fucking Kai dude instead of actually working. 

This was going to be a nightmare. 

From the end of the table, he saw you shifting and turned to find that stupid fucking smile flashed his way once again. 

If you had a tail, he’d bet it would be wagging. 

“Hey, well that’s convenient,” you chuckled and plopped down directly next to him, sliding your noisy ass drink across the table with you and brushing against his thigh when you shifted your bag to the side. 

“Yeah,” he nodded.

It most certainly was not. 

But Tomura would never say that because—as his roommate put it so kindly—he was kinda a pussy. 

People made him nervous, they always had. That’s why he liked computers so much. Code made sense, there were clear rules and when something didn’t work out, he could fix it eventually, but you couldn’t see people’s codes. You had to fucking guess at shit and it made his anxiety skyrocket which the sides of his neck and finger tips suffered for. 

So he cowered like the fucking dog you probably thought he was instead and kept his eyes on the floor, letting you set up in silence. 

“Who was our third?” you asked, glancing around the room. “Sorry, I was busy making a shared drive and I came in  late so I missed that last bit.”

Why the hell did you feel the need to apologize all the goddamn time? Seriously, who would believe you were actually sorry for being irritating as hell. 

And god if he thought you were irritating. 

“Kai,” he grumbled simply as the man in question sauntered over to the table and fucking Clorox wiped down the seat before sitting.  

Tomura watched your smile falter just a bit and grinned inwardly at the slip in your fake little persona. But you didn’t say anything more, just moved your chair back so the three of you were in a semi-circle and pulled up a few pdfs on your laptop. 

“Cool, so I was looking over the directions on the syllabus last week and I set up a little work delegation thing so we can distribute everything pretty evenly,” you jumped right in, tone matter of fact in the down-to-business manner he was used to hearing from you during class discussions. 

It was better than you so clearly forcing yourself to be overly polite, and he honestly couldn’t really care less if you wanted to take charge of this thing. You seemed kinda bossy, but he begrudgingly admitted that your suck up behavior did mean you sort of knew what you were talking about. He was just here to pass and you might actually make that a lot easier. 

It was okay as long as he was taking advantage of you, he told himself. And you would be too stupid to notice, so he could play your game and play pretend nice all the way to an A. 

That walking condescension on the other hand— 

“I’m not doing that,” Kai huffed through his ever-present mask. 

Tomura wasn’t actually sure he’d ever seen the bastards face without it. 

“What?” you laughed awkwardly. “Yes you are, you don’t really have much of a choice.” 

You stared at your classmate who simply stared right back with his own, equally confused expression. 

“Why do you look so surprised?” you asked after a moment of silence. 

You weren’t smiling anymore and your voice had dropped down about a fucking octave. At least you sounded more like a person and not some wannabe uwu gamer bitch.

“People don’t talk to me like that,” Kai looked at you down his nose, legs spread wide and elbow resting on his knees. 

Tomura could feel the pretentiousness wafting from him in waves, and waited with bated breath for you to get kicked off your pedestal. Just a bit though, he did need you around to do most of his work for this thing. 

But in a shocking turn of events, you just laughed dryly twice and turned back to your laptop screen, mumbling as you did. 

“Really? Well they should.” 

Tomura would have laughed too, but he didn’t feel like inflating your ego. Kai on the other hand looked a bit like you’d just spit on shoes and furrowed those stupid, plucked thin eyebrows at the back of your head. 

“So Tomura, you code right?” you asked, turning away from Kai completely to address him. “I just remember you saying you were in comp sci when we did introductions.” 

He was taken aback by the knowledge that he existed as a person in your head outside of this room for a moment and simply nodded—suddenly feeling far too hot in his black on black sweats and hoodie. 

God just talking to you made his skin burn. 

“Great, cause we’re allowed to chose the medium we present in and I was thinking of taking it in a more creative direction cause I’ve had this prof before and he eats that shit up,” you begin to ramble again, scrolling through a bulleted list, shifting the screen for him to see. 

“Right,” he murmured, still surprised you’d thought this far and not...actively hating what you’d brainstormed. 

Well, it was a bit juvenile and you clearly didn’t know what you were talking about but the concept wasn’t horrendous. He could work with that and it shouldn’t be too hard. It kinda seemed like you’d overestimated a bit with how challenging it would actually be and saddled yourself with most of the heavy lifting. That or you were just a control freak which was a little more believable.

He wished you would stop looking at him over the edge of the screen. He could feel himself starting to sweat. Rivulets falling down the nape of his neck and racing across his bare chest under the sweatshirt. Tomura sorta regretted not wearing a shirt underneath but he knew that he wouldn’t have taken off the insulating layer even if that had been an option. 

It would just mean you had more drying, pale as fuck skin to look at and judge him for because he knew that’s what you were doing. Fucking vapid and shallow like everyone else. 

“It’s really rough so far, but I have it the gist outlined,” you indicated to another tab and then turned back to Kai who had been sitting silently glaring daggers into your back. “So, Kai, since you’re in STEM I figured you’d be okay with doing more of the preliminary research—”

“I don’t think so,” Kai interrupted, shaking his head and pushing off his knees to lean back in the cheap, plastic seat. “Look, it’ll be easier for all of us if you two just make it look pretty and I can handle the oral presentation.” 

You gaped and looked to Tomura with this pathetic fucking incredulous stare, like you thought he’d back you up. 

Which actually, now that he thought about it was probably a good idea—he did need you to remain somewhat cordial with him—but he certainly didn’t care enough to defend you in any way. Kai was a dick, sure, but he wasn’t gonna let you rope him into being your white knight or whatever. 

He settled for a similarly disgruntled downward twitch of his lips. The movement pulled at the cracking skin which stung as it tore open even more. Tomura felt the familiar crawling feeling on his neck and shifted in his seat to resist the urge to scratch. 

He couldn’t pinpoint why exactly you staring at him was so uncomfortable. He didn’t like you, he didn’t care about you and by extension didn’t give two shits what you thought of him, but anything he might have said shriveled on his tongue when you spoke or looked in his eyes too long. 

Tomura had never made a habit of talking to females and they certainly had never wanted anything to do with him either. 

Maybe he was fucking allergic or something. 

Whatever the case, you seemed to take his half frown as a sign of solidarity and leaned back in your own seat. 

“Okay, look,” you retorted. “If you’re seriously not gonna at least try to cooperate, then there is actually an option to do the project by yourself and I suggest you take it.” 

The look on your face was distinctly impolite. There was a sharpness to the set of your jaw that Tomura had never seen before, but it looked practiced enough that he could bet it was simply the snake that resided in every woman just waiting to come out. 

“Look sweetheart—” that masked jerk began, also for some fucking reason looking to Tomura for support. 

For someone who was very much used to blending into the background scenery, this was the most eye contact Tomura had ever made in a day. 

Except on the rare occasions his roommate had friends over and he had to make the dreaded trek from his room to reach the fridge. 

“Oh yeah I’m not doing that,” you closed your laptop sharply and rolled your eyes. “I get it, but I’m really just trying to graduate. I don’t think this is going to work out and you,” Tomura froze as you shifted your gaze to him once again, “seem okay, so Tomura and I can just work this out by ourselves and you can find a different group.” 

Kai scoffed behind the black layer of fabric covering his mouth and slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Whatever.” 

Tomura watched him saunter straight out the door as the room was filled with the shuffling of notebooks and zipping of backpacks. 

“God,” you huffed and turned back to him. 

His raw skin burned under the new wave of heat and accompanying moisture that slicked his skin when you scooted closer to him. That clean laundry and shampoo smell was suffocating from this proximity. 

Did you fucking bathe in the stuff? 

He was becoming increasingly aware of his less than pleasant aroma and the fact that you not scrunching your nose up in disgust just out of some stupid, ingrained need to appease him. 

“Well, that was...weird,” you chuckled in a way that was probably meant to break the tension. 

Unfortunately Tomura felt more like he was about to break out in hives if you came any closer so it really just ended up making the atmosphere ten times more awkward. At least for him. You, somehow, remained resolutely unaware. 

“Mhm,” he hummed in response and picked silently at the skin of his fingers. 

“Anyway, I have a meeting in a few but we can trade numbers and pick a time to meet up sometime tomorrow maybe?” you suggested, quickly saving the steadily degrading vibes of the conversation and pulled out your phone. 

He really hated the full body pulsation that rushed through him at the thought of getting a girls number. It made him fucking sick at himself for falling into your stupid trap to get him interested. Was your plan to just use him to get a good grade or whatever and then block his texts?

It wasn’t like Tomura didn’t know about his status as the class ‘freak.’ That one guy everyone whispers about and makes sure not to sit next to. And he knows you know, so why the hell else would you act so nice?

He wanted to say something scathing in return. That he could do the whole thing by himself too—which he definitely couldn’t but that was irrelevant—and that he didn’t need you bossing him around either. 

“Sure thing,” he said instead and took your offered phone all too eagerly, typing in his number and watching as you shot off a text back so he’d have yours. 

His phone buzzed against his thigh and he jumped a fourth time, but you seemed not to notice as you packed your bag and grabbed your basic ass drink. The ice clattered against the tumbler, dropping cool condensation against the searing skin of his hand. 

Tomura shivered as you waved over your shoulder and slipped out the door with another rush of students. 

He sat silently in the empty room for a moment, trying to process the last hour. He pinched himself idly, wondering if it had all been just a weird dream, but the results were inconclusive. A minute or two passed before he pulled out his phone to scroll through the list of reddit and discord notifs to find your text. 

Unknown Number:

— pEopLe DoN’t TaLK tO mE liKE ThAt 

— not very plus ultra of him...smh

— anyway, library at 6 tomorrow ?

 Tomura caved, digging his nails into the side of his neck and hissed at the pain, confirming the day's horrible reality. 

[eutxrpe]

hcs: you're an insomniac

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ hcs: you have insomnia pairings: bakugo x gn!reader; kaminari x gn!reader; amajiki x reader request: sxn!!! can i get bakugo, kaminari, or kirishima w/ an insomniac s/o?? lmfao this is absolutely based on my own experiences, i'm good right now but i remember i'd go days at a time w/o sleeping and it was so hard for me to make myself rest until i reached a point where i crashed, n even recently it's given me shit cause i'll go to sleep at functional hours but wake suddenly at 2 am in the morning and it can be near impossible to go back - rei 🥝!! author's note: @amphibianasters hope you like it!! i understand that so much, i've been having trouble sleeping lately too. i also added tamaki in because today's his birthday! warnings: unhealthy sleep behaviors, fluff ⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ katsuki bakugo //

when bakugo first discovers you're an insomniac, his first reaction (as always) is anger. it's a thinly veiled disguise to hide his fear for your health.

he wouldn't figure it out automatically because his sleep routine is so uniform. i'd imagine that he sleeps early to rise early, training before he heads to class.

so when he texts you 'good night,' bakugo expects that you'd be doing the same.

your bouts of insomnia don't happen very frequently, but lately you can't seem to sleep. you were exhausted from school & training, and even so, your brain still would not go to bed.

maybe it was because things were lonelier at night or it was too loud or your thoughts just wouldn't stop moving at the speed of light— but you just couldn't get any sleep.

it showed the next day. you yawned through breakfast and your eyes weren't as bright as they were usually.

after barely surviving school, you were about to close the door to your room when a foot blocked it from shutting fully.

"are you going to tell me what's wrong or do i have to pull it out of you, dumbass?" his tone was gruff but his eyes held concern that he would never voice.

"i can't... sleep. i don't know why but i can't." you shifted around awkwardly, bakugo's analyzing gaze never leaving your figure.

"...you should call me when you feel like this." it was a bit quieter than his previous statement, but it rang in your ears anyway. "can't be the best without the best by my side."

and so you did call him when it was the ungodliest hours of the night. you couldn't cuddle because of the dorm rules, but he stayed on call with you until you drifted off. bakugo's sleepy voice is low & comforting.

in addition to his voice, katsuki will also make you the tea of your choice (it's really only between chamomile and lavender) because his mom would make it for him when he had nightmares from the sludge incident.

you're pretty lucky to have a boyfriend as efficient as bakugo when it comes to your insomnia.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ denki kaminari // chargebolt

denki realizes you have insomnia far quicker than bakugo would. mainly because he himself doesn't have insomnia but prefers to stay up late. the comfort of no one expecting anything of him & the chaos that can happen under the cover of darkness makes him happy :)

he'd be on discord and miss you all of a sudden. texting you, he was shocked when you instantly replied.

kaminari.bolt: babeeeeeee

kaminari.bolt: i miss youuuuu

(y/n): i'm right here, what's up?

kaminari.bolt: you're not sleeping?

(y/n): can't sleep,,

kaminari.bolt: ...wanna do something with me? 🥺

he'd then invite you to get hot chocolate or tea (without caffeine) in it downstairs. yes, there was a chance you'd get caught but you both thought it would be worth it ten times over just to see each other.

denki's voice is still the same albeit a bit hushed at night, but with you? it's a soft tenor, and he prays that it'll help you fall asleep in his arms.

and yes, in his arms. he may not know what to do in the morning when you need to leave for class. what he does know is that right now, cuddling you to sleep is more important.

and when he sees your breathing slow and eyes flutter closed & stay that way, denki gains a feeling of pride as he drifts off too.

⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆⋄⋆⊹⋄⋆ tamaki amajiki // suneater

tamaki amajiki?? he probably has anxiety-induced insomnia too. (part of the reason why mirio & tamaki are so close is because they would call each other and sleep on the phone. 🥺)

i can see him smudging eyeliner below his eyes to add to his already darkened eyebags.

he recognizes the signs: you're leaning on his shoulder to sleep during the day, you have trouble focusing during class, you're more stressed than usual... and it brings him to tears to see you like this because of something as fickle as sleep.

but tamaki can't bring himself to outright ask you even if it would have soothed his worries. he's anxious about you but he's also anxious about you not wanting him to know about your insomnia.

it's only when you're both hanging out with nejire & mirio that he decides to do something.

nejire was talking about how she was getting less sleep than usual, mirio chiming in with the fact that he was getting more due to his temporary leave of absense.

then you said, "i'm pretty much nocturnal now since i don't sleep at night :)"

the conversation quickly bounces to a different subject, but tamaki lies awake that night, playing with his fingers & thinking about ways to help you.

during lunch and other breaks in between classes, he always subtly asks you if you want to lay on his shoulder or lap to sleep. is it embarrassing? yes. but seeing his butterfly all relaxed as they finally get the rest they deserve? worth it.

and on the nights when he can't sleep as well, he calls you instead of mirio.

"butterfly?" he'd ask, voice a gentle mumble that was sweetened at the edges. "you wanna talk until we go to bed?"

after a while, you both would fall asleep, soft breaths being exchanged through the mics of your phone. and when you wake up, a good morning text from tamaki makes you smile.

he holds you —his sleepy love— in his arms whenever you two get the chance to be alone.

[obae-me]

MC With PTSD

Word Count: 5068

Author’s Note: Thank you to the anon who requested this, due to a weird glitch your request got deleted, but I didn’t forget about it! I did my best to do some research since I’m not an expert on PTSD, so I apologize if this is not accurate.

Warning: Possible Trigger Warnings, Read Safely

Lucifer

He didn’t notice the symptoms at first. Don’t get him wrong, he’s highly observant. It’s just, for one, he’s not an expert in human behavior, and two, MC was doing a damn good job keeping themselves under control. If there were any abnormalities in their behavior, he first chalked it up to them getting adjusted to their new environment. 

That was, until the little signs didn’t go away with passing days, and they even became more severe. He would be lying if it said it didn’t make him anxious.

He was at RAD with MC during lunch, taking the break to not only get to know them better, but help them study should they need it. They had been perfectly fine then, maybe still not fully looking into his eyes while he talked, but open and content. They then went up to go to the restroom. When they came back, they were almost a different person. Their jaw was clenched, eyes glassy, the skin on their hand red from them scratching. 

“MC...is something wrong?” 

“No.” 

They spit the word out at him, coming out before he had even fully finished his question. He knew they were upset, but he loathed their tone. What had he done to deserve their venom? He straightened up in his seat, eyes lowered in a squint. 

“MC-” 

“What?” 

They hissed, much too jumpy and irritable. He was doing his best to stay level-headed, but it was driving him up a wall. He had done nothing to warrant how they were speaking to him. No one spoke to him like that. But before he could even attempt to lecture them, MC stood up, pushed their seat over, and with their hair balled up in their hands, they ran off. He called out their name, but was too stunned to follow them. He was left dizzy with such a powerful whirlwind of emotions in such a short amount of time. 

He gave them time to cool off, packing up their things, trying to ignore the worry starting to build up in his chest. He sighed. He was certain now that, even among humans, this was abnormal behavior. He scolded himself, he should’ve done something about it sooner. He put off his concern for the time being and continued his busy day at RAD, hoping work would distract these feelings of his. 

Hours passed, the school day came to a close, and Lucifer still had MC’s bag. He waited by the front door, D.D.D in hand, doing his best not to crush the device in his hands when MC wasn’t returning his multiple texts and calls. He kept tapping his foot against the ground. All of his other brothers confirmed that they hadn’t seen MC since before they went out with him to lunch. 

The time for worrying was now. 

He would check every office, every room, every corner of RAD if he had to. It took him hours of scouring the school building to find them. They had been in a dark dusty classroom that had been temporarily abandoned to be redecorated. They were under the teacher’s desk, knees into their chest, D.D.D thrown across the room near some flipped over desks. His notifications were all noted on the front screen. When MC heard his sharp footsteps, they tried sneaking further away into the darkness, covering their ears with their hands with a whimper. The closer Lucifer got, the more he could see them shaking. 

He got to his knees, calling out their name in a soft voice, hand extended to help them up should they want it. Upon hearing his voice, their head snapped up at him, looking panicked as it took them much too long to recognize who he was. 

“L-Lucifer?” Their voice sounded weak. They reached out to take his hand, and once they did, Lucifer gently held them close to his chest. He didn’t know why, he wasn’t one much for physical affection, but, the way they looked, like they weren’t aware of their surroundings...maybe this would help ground them back to place. 

In the safety of their home, the warm fire in the study giving off a peaceful glow, MC told him about it. Not everything, they weren’t ready for that yet. The teacup in their hands was still discovering it hard to stay steady. They told him enough, brushing over the traumatic event they experienced in the past, and then the thing in the hallway they saw that triggered them. They even told him how their many sudden and panic-inducing phone notifications made them feel, but then apologized for it. 

They...apologized, why? Why indeed when it should’ve been him to say ‘I’m sorry’. The only reason why he hadn’t said it yet was because he was doing his best to stay calm, working hard to not destroy anyone that would dare make them feel like that, not realizing the pen in his hand had already snapped in two. 

He got up, putting his coat around their shoulders, sitting down beside them. He was thankful they told him, even though he would’ve loved to be aware of this so much sooner for both of their sake’s. He put a supportive hand on the top of their head, fingers entangled in their hair, and told them to come to him immediately should they ever be triggered or panicked again. It didn’t matter when, where, why, he wanted them to come to him. 

He would work on not spamming their phone, and it was his own personal project to ensure that the scum in both the human and demon world were eradicated. He’d use whatever power he had to help them and make them safe. He knows what to look out for now, and it pleases him when MC comes to him for help so he can put his coat around them and bring them in his arms. He hates seeing him like this, but having him be their source of comfort, their safe space, boosts his pride greatly. 

Mammon

Of course he didn’t know. How was he supposed to figure it out, on his own? He was just supposed to come to that conclusion based on their actions when he didn’t even know how humans acted in the first place? 

This is what he kept telling himself, at least, when he made MC spiral into a panic attack. 

He didn’t mean to, seriously, he didn’t. He didn’t know, he didn’t know. He had them in his arms, rocking them back and forth, almost resorting to praying to his own father for them to stop. He didn’t know. 

He had been angry. Not quite Satan level angry, but close. He was tired, irritated, and his brother's relentless teasing had crossed the line for the day. His siblings knew when to stop, when they had taken things too far, and left him alone for the time being, but MC was unaware that giving him space was the best choice. They wanted to comfort him, to make him feel better, to bring him back to his usual carefree self. They cared for him. 

They approached him from behind in the hallway of the House of Lamentation. It was dark, but they could make out the silhouette of his wings against dim moonlight. He was already in his demon form, having probably been in it all day. An aura of emotions surrounded him, and already MC could feel it. They felt prickling on their skin, their hands already turning clammy. MC reached out to him, calling his name. 

Mammon twirled around quickly, his wings puffing up from his hips. He didn’t mean to touch them, but his wings had reacted so suddenly, it knocked their hand back and made them lose balance. They lost their footing and fell back to the floor with a squeak. They looked up at him to only see his eyes glowing, his fists tightened into balls. 

“What do you want? Eh? To be like everyone else? Tell me that I’m scummy? Joke about me?”

He took a step toward them in the dim light. 

“Tease me?”

He was unaware of their expression still. 

“Why don’t you say so-“ He finally stopped, his wings lowering. They had their arms up over their face, their entire body trembling. The noise of buzzing in his ears died down enough to hear that they were only taking gasping breaths like they couldn’t breathe. They started rocking themselves back and forth on the floor, their fingers digging into their own skin. In between breaths they were muttering quietly. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” 

He fell to his knees, hesitating about even touching MC after what he’d done to them. Then he wrapped them in a tight hug, not entirely sure what to do. He had to bite his own lip to keep from panicking himself. He buried his head in their shoulder. 

“Hey...hey huma-MC-don't be sorry. I’m sorry, please breathe.” 

Levi stepped out of his room to get angry at the commotion, but one look at the situation and the death glare from Mammon made him lower his head and leave them alone. When MC finally calmed down, they were exhausted and embarrassed, too numb for any more crying. He took the both of them back to his room to relax and talk things out so both of them could understand each other’s feelings better. 

MC told him about it, how because of one event in their life, they were prone to panic attacks and meltdowns. They curled up on his couch and told them how pathetic they were. He had to cling to them, bury his nose in their hair and told them not to worry. If anyone was pathetic and scummy, he was. 

He’ll cling to their side much more often. He’ll come to MC whenever he feels like that again so he won’t lash out at them. If any other brother gets riled up and attempts to cross the line, Mammon will be there to stop them. He’d rather have his siblings take out their anger on him than MC. 

Levi

He’s typically quite calm in public, most likely due to his social anxiety. He’s quiet, skittish, and shy. He only ever opens up and comes out of his shell when he’s home. Since he also stays in his room alone most of the time, neither him nor MC were aware of how the others acted under stressful situations. 

He should’ve noticed the signs since sometimes he exhibited similar symptoms. Avoiding interactions when possible, the anxiety, the isolation. He just couldn’t get out of his own head enough to realize what that meant. He was too focused on his own problems, on comparing himself to others. 

It took multiple match losses, cocky rivals, and stupid teammates before he got his reality check. He wanted to get to hang out more with MC. He’d ignore the fact that Lucifer and some of his other brothers had highly encouraged (or threatened) him to spend some time with the human. He thought of it himself. It was most assuredly his plan. So he allowed them to trespass into his room to play some games with him. Maybe something light. Like maybe some high ranked battle-heavy online matches. Something simple.

Whether they were good at gaming or not, the concept and controls were brand new to them, and so they kept dying. Repeatedly. They found out the hard way that demons are even worse sports when it came to losing than humans were. Once Levi had been ridiculed enough and lost some precious ranks along the way, he snapped. MC could feel him start to lose it, and they took it upon themselves to apologize.

“Levi, I’m sorry, I’ll stop playing. I’m no good. I’ll leave, I’ll-“

The room turned colder as he turned demon. The controller in his hands snapped, and then quickly splintered, circuitry and plastic shards falling into his lap. Even if it wasn’t a huge display, even if he wasn’t directing anything towards them, just the sound of something breaking and the look on Levi’s face was enough to send MC into full blown distress. 

MC jumped in their seat, letting out a loud scream, covering their ears with their hands at the sound of destruction. Their reaction caused Levi to almost do the same thing, the last thing he expected was to hear MC shriek. He shook his anger and envy out of his head.

“It’s okay, I have plenty of extra controllers!” He did his best to assure them that he was okay, still unable to realize that while he might be fine, MC was not. He went to put a hand on their shoulder. They flinched from his touch, scrambling backwards with their hands towards his door. Once they made it to their feet, they ran away from him. He got up as quick as he could, following them out his door. All sorts of thoughts were running through his head, most of them self destructive ones, but amidst them all, the thought first and foremost was ‘make sure MC is okay.’ 

Their wobbly and unstable legs had caused them to fall to the floor again, trying to get back up using the wall as support. Once they saw Levi was approaching, they dropped to their hands and knees, unable to say words through their tears and air-deprived lungs. 

There were now two sobbing messes on the floor. As if he didn’t hate himself already, now seeing how he made MC feel made the self loathing worse than losing any rank. He apologized profusely, and out of the two of them, MC was actually the first to stop crying. 

With Levi and MC wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, on a cold hard floor in the middle of a hallway, MC told him what had happened to them. They discussed who was involved, and how they never were the same since. It was the first time Levi ever dared put himself above someone, above the trash that dared call themselves human. The maggots that ever thought about harming MC. His friend. His best friend.

Toxic gamer who? Levi doesn’t know them. Gaming sessions are much calmer now, and he’ll always make sure he knows trigger warnings on shows or games so he can filter those ones out of the stuff he shares with MC. He’ll do his best to make sure they enjoy themselves and that they’re kind to themselves. 

Satan

He had read several books on mental illness, partly because It fascinated him, another part because he liked using his knowledge to figure out how messed up his siblings were. It was a fun dinner discussion. Help them please So he was aware of the symptoms MC possessed. The way they acted, how they spoke to people, how they would avoid specific things. He was still far away from being a psychologist, though, so even he wasn’t sure how severe it was. He did tend to notice that MC shied away from him anytime he got close to raising his voice or losing his temper. So, for that reason, despite being the demon of wrath, anytime MC was around, he’d be better than anyone else at controlling his emotions. 

He was unprepared for an actual hands on experience. No matter how many times he had read about it, no matter how descriptive and in depth the words were, real life was vastly different from books. He’d admit it was his fault, he was rarely wrong, but when he was wrong, he wasn’t as prideful as his older brother to apologize. 

It had been a day of many firsts. The first day he invited MC to come watch this old documentary with him. The first time he had such an overwhelming emotion other than anger. The first time someone had screamed in terror when he hadn't specifically been the reason why. And it was the first time he had heard MC scream.

It was a simple documentary about history, and he had ensured it was human history not Devildom history. He thought it was easier to swallow and simpler to relate to. While that might’ve been the case, even he was shocked to find that just the simple history of a single statue would have so much death and abuse. He’d have to thoroughly check these from now on. He had no idea the sound of a gunshot through a television screen would do so much damage. 

MC shrieked, and I mean banshee style. All the hairs on Satan’s body stood up on ends. Their body convulsed so badly, they smacked their head on the back of the couch, a little bit of blood already clotting. They had their hair balled up in their hands, some loose strands torn free, dangling from their fingers.

“No, no, no!” 

They wailed loudly causing Satan, who was usually calm, to panic. He was used to being angry towards people, not comforting them. The first thing he did was cover them with his body, fighting through their flailing and smacking as they continued to howl in distress. He made sure they couldn’t do any more harm to themselves, using his body as a shield. Their episode was a mixture of fear and anger, doing their best to throw Satan off their body. He refused to let them go, his legs wrapped around theirs, and using his arms to best keep their limbs and head from smacking off the surface of more furniture. At one point, MC’s forehead smacked against his temple making a more than concerning sound. He pressed his own head between their neck, his shoulder wedged on the other side to try to keep their head steady.

“MC, MC! Breathe! Breathe…” 

He knew how to ground them, how to use their senses to bring them back to him. He made sure they breathed in for four counts, and then out for four. He watched as the thrashing stopped, the screams turned to squeaks as their throat started to give way. He continued to hold onto them, even after their attack had stopped, head buried into their shoulder till he was sure they were okay. He was also busy hiding his glassy eyes in their body, his ears still ringing. 

When all was said and done, he asked MC if it was possible to give him a written list of all their triggers. All books, all movies, all forms of entertainment would be going through him first to make sure they were safe for MC. He would be checking their school work, the school’s lesson plans, and it was one of the few times he actively worked with Lucifer on this. Both of them spending hours pouring over the curriculum. 

He was going to figure out for himself what had happened to MC, since he didn’t want to bother them or make them upset again. The only one who should be worried was anyone who had thought they had the right to make MC experience something like that. He was going to ensure they went through it ten times worse. 

Asmo

He’s an expert in body language, so he knew something was up, he just had no idea what. He noticed how slumped their posture would get around other people, how they used their arms to hug themselves. He could see the way they nervously picked at their skin or hair when someone mentioned stressful exams. He saw how they refused to look in the mirror. It bothered him. He assumed they were uncomfortable in their own body, and he had just the solution. To make sure they loved their body as much as he did.

While he had good intentions, the demonic side of him just took it to a different level. He had invited them to his bedroom, everything nice and cozy, perfect enough for royalty. He made sure he looked great--but he always did--and he wanted MC to feel the same. Surely, the dopamine hit from what he had planned tonight would make them feel better, and make them love their own body all the same. 

So he set the mood, maybe flattered them a bit too much, to be fair. He was so overwhelmed with lust, he didn’t notice how uncomfortable they were. He let them sit on his bed, telling him how soft it was and quiet to boot. Then he made a mistake, taking their laughter and compliments too far as he moved in too close to them and reached for their shirt. Their pupils turned into pinpricks, and as their immediate instinct, they brought their legs up to kick him. Before their knee reached his face, he grabbed it, probably too tightly. They shouted, and before he could say anything, they slapped him. It didn’t sting nearly as much as it would’ve on another human, but it did its job. He was stunned, left alone in his room to gawk at his empty bed as MC ran away, pale as a ghost. 

Luckily, it didn’t break skin or leave him scarred, just a bit red, so he would survive. He was surprisingly more worried about MC other than his complexion. He followed after them, discovering them in the bathroom, the door still left wide open in a haste. They were vomiting, tears in their eyes, throat scratched up to hell and back, legs shaking. He had been to many parties before, so he knew what to do. He naturally came over, making sure the hair was out of their face, that they had water, that they especially knew how sorry he was. They flinched under his touch at first, their skin burning and tingling with anxiety. Then they let him pet their head as they got it out.

“I’m so sorry, dear, I crossed a line.”

The effort of expulsion had left MC exhausted, and they moved away from him, head low with shame. They attempted to make their way to bed, to put this all behind both of them. He refused to let them go, not until they had brushed their teeth and had something to drink to make sure they stayed healthy. It was the least he could do. He monitored them as they did so, nervously playing with his own hair to keep him distracted. He did this to them, he did. He should’ve been lust, making people fall for him, making people feel good, not terrified. He felt wrong. 

“MC...I’m so sorry...can you tell me?” 

If they weren’t already weak and dissociated from the situation, they might never have explained to him what happened, what someone had done. They left out explicit details, but he had heard enough. Lust wasn’t like that, was it? He wasn’t like that, was he? He’d change, he’d be better, he promised. He asked MC if it was okay if he gave them a hug. He almost cried when they said yes. He wrapped them up in the sweetest, safest hug a demon could give. 

He doesn’t lay a single finger on MC without asking them first. He makes sure all the brothers do the same. Somehow, even when he’s not around, he’ll know if someone even bumped into them at RAD. Consent for everything and everyone, and if someone dares think otherwise, Asmo is not afraid to get his hands dirty. He moisturizes. 

Beel

He’s not dumb by any means, but he’s just not the best at human behavior. He’ll associate MC with aspects of his brothers and just think that it’s normal. He loves his brothers, and he loves MC too, so the signs that should’ve been concerning didn’t click. The way MC liked to keep to themselves was just like Levi and Satan. The way they worked themselves too hard and seemingly didn’t have an enjoyment for more entertaining things, just like Lucifer. He’s almost too accepting, taking things that should’ve been problems into quirks, thinking that it just was the way MC was. 

Then they exhibited the only symptom that concerned him. They stopped eating. They would have a bite, maybe two, and then pass it off to him. Of course he would eat it, they were putting his sin right in front of him and begging Beel to take it. Surely, humans needed to eat more. Surely they were hungry. After all, he was eating ten times more than them and he was still starving. It made the food in his mouth taste rotten. 

He invited them to the gym. They could watch him workout, they would spend time together, and then afterwards he would take them to his favorite restaurants. That would make sure they ate. No one could say no to the kind of food the Ristorante Six figuratively and literally brought to the table. He thought somehow that would cure things. Food was his solution to everything. It made him happy and healthy and he wanted MC to feel the same.

He was thinking about his plan deep in his mind. He could see the both of them enjoying the best meal they would eat in their lives. He missed the sight of MC getting pale, swaying, wilting under the heat of the gym. He watched as they collapsed, and at that point no amount of food could’ve bribed him away from the problem any longer. 

He got them home, in bed, trying not to tear himself up inside for not making an action sooner. Why did he not make sure they ate immediately? Why did he have to give in to his sin so easily? Why were they even doing this to themselves in the first place? 

When they woke up, the first thing Beel was going to make sure they did was get something--anything--in their body. MC didn’t want that. They had spent days making sure they weren’t eating, they didn’t want it to be ruined. They didn’t want to, they couldn’t, so why was Beel forcing them? They grabbed his clothes and begged, pleaded with him not to make them eat. They were crying now, sending Beel’s mind spiraling. He knew they needed to eat, they needed nourishment, but he didn’t want to say no to them, force them to do something they didn’t want to. He was so torn, confused, why were they upset over something that would help them? All he could do is hold them as they cried, worried about the fact that they barely had the strength left to do so. 

He left them momentarily to rest as he headed away to go ask Satan for more information. Turns out humans, in some cases, like to do things that hurt them. Being a demon, a creature that strives and exists for things that fulfill them and help them thrive, this turned his world upside down. First things first, he made sure they ate, whether they liked it or not. He had to do his best to ignore more crying and fighting. He wasn’t happy until something was in their stomach, smiling a bit as color finally returned to their face. 

Now he’s aware of everything they do, taking notes of things they like, and relaying it all back to Satan to make sure it was safe. He has a real hard time making them upset, but he needs them to be okay, to be whole and happy. He can’t take food from them anymore. In fact, much to the surprise of the household, he refuses to eat unless MC does so. He won’t hesitate anymore.

 Belphie

He knows too much about humans unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately in this case. After the human race’s endearing glow had faded, Belphie became too familiar with the darker and more upsetting parts that came with them. Mental illness being one of them. He remembers Lilith endlessly going on about how sad it was, how she wanted nothing more than to take their pain away. So, yes, he was probably the most aware out of all the brothers concerning MC’s condition. 

He saw the same numb nonchalant look in their eyes as he had. The way they slept too much but went to bed much too late, if they even went to bed at all. They both sported the same dark circles under their eyes. MC had too much apathy and not enough energy to follow through with the few things they did care about. Yeah, it sounded just like him, but he was a demon, it almost came with the job. For humans, not only was it worrisome but he knew how dangerous it could be. 

Did he do anything about it? No. He was sleeping too much and doing his best to avoid MC anyway. Why should they want help from someone like him in the first place? After what he did? Helping them was the furthest thing from his mind. He didn’t want to end up hurting them further. Someone else would take care of it. 

That’s what he thought, at least, until Beel invited MC for a sleepover in their room. Beel thought it would be fun for the three of them to hang out more, and Belphie didn’t have the heart nor the energy to say no to his twin. Things had gone fine at first, great even. They shared snacks, Beel going as far as making sure everyone got plenty to eat. They all watched a snooze-inducing amount of movies, Belphie spending most of the time switching between Beel’s and MC’s lap to sleep in. And at the end of it all, even the insomniac MC had gone to bed at a decent time. It was a night of fun with of them in a peaceful rest. Maybe Belphie didn’t have anything to worry about after all. 

Until MC started screaming. The noise woke him and his brother up faster than anything ever had. MC had the blanket they were sleeping with tangled tightly around different parts of their body.They were covered in a terrible cold sweat, stuck in their nightmare as they did their best to wake up. They kept screaming someone’s name over and over again along with running ‘sorry’s and ‘no’s. 

They ended up accidentally scratching their own face with their fingers in the panicked flailing, the pain still not waking them up from the terror. It took both Belphie and Beel to get them awake, and even then, they still weren’t out of the haze for a good while. Belphie’s chest throbbed in pain when he called out their name and they didn’t respond. When they looked into his face, there was no emotion attached to it. It was like they were somewhere else entirely. It was another few minutes before the look of recollection came back into their eyes, and then just after, those same eyes were filled with tears. While Beel did most of the immediate comforting, Belphie realized that this was the reason why they were tired all the time. It was hard to want to sleep and get good rest when nothing but torment awaited you in the night. He understood all to well, and he was sloth, he knew sleep, he could’ve helped them the most in his own element.

He felt it wasn’t his place, but while Beel had MC tightly in his arms, he came in from behind and rested his head against their back, his fingers digging gently into their pajamas. He buried his face into them, feeling every emotional shudder. MC cried so hard, they ended up falling asleep again, too exhausted to keep themselves conscious any longer. Beel picked them up, preparing to put them in his bed, but Belphie stopped him. He made sure MC was curled up by him, claiming it was only due to his much comfier and agreeable bed. Truth was, he was unable to rest soundly now without making sure MC was sleeping deeply, taking slow and even breaths. 

He puts a little more effort into taking care of MC after that. He’s the demon of sloth, so he knows ways to deter night terrors and insomnia. If MC refuses to sleep, whoops he already gave them a bit of sleeping potion for tonight. They're going to have to deal with a demon dragging them into bed, clinging onto them so tightly they can’t move. He’s still learning how to do things a bit less demanding and over the top, but MC has been sleeping better lately. 

[shinebrightlikeanarwhal]

Travis-centered plots because I Like fix it’s… (I just finished typing them all, I’m ashamed for my sinful brain oml)

- Larry and Travis having once been friends but being torn apart by Travis’ father. Larry keeping an eye on Travis for years but then turning his attention to Sal, whom in turn receives the sudden disdain of Travis.

Sal confronts Travis in the bathrooms one day and Larry listens from the door. Eventually Sal talks Travis into tears. He confesses to being jealous of Sal and not wanting Larry to stop focusing on him, even if Larry ends up hating him. How his dad would beat him if Travis and Larry ever got close again. Larry barges in and holds Travis close. They reconcile (Sal opting to let the boys talk, clearly not in the mood to see Enemies to Lovers tonguing den in the school bathroom.

They uproot and destroy the cult, blah blah blah, Happily ever after and Travis gets help for his trauma induced depression and anxiety.

- Travis has been off for a few days. He doesn’t antagonize anyone. Philip does more talking and ginger touching that Travis violently jerks away from. During class he barely responds and teachers don’t try to force him. Sal didn’t expect to find Travis sleeping on a bench one day. His worn shoes now tattered with holes at the bottom. His black eye prominent but accompanied by a busted lip and what looked to be severe damage to his legs.

Not sure how he did it, but Sal managed to convince Travis to come home with him. Introduces Travis to Henry and leads him to the bathroom where he washed off and got treated. His damage was severe and Sal really wanted to call the police but just seeing a fearful Travis weened him off the idea.

Larry was not too pleased to find Travis at Sals. He almost yelled until he noted Travis look at his raised hand and cower from him. Larry pausing and pulls Sal to the side to understand. Of course they don’t know the full story but it’s enough to have Larry texting the group for help. Most were curious about what could lead them to wanting to help Travis. Ash, however, seemed to know a lot.

They find out about Travis’ abuse, the cult. Travis helps a little. He is still terrified of them but they start to grow on him with time. He even allows contact with Sal rarely, who shows him his face during a bonding moment at the dead of night. Larry makes playlists and CDs to help Travis get accustomed to loud noises (many of which are songs Larry personally thinks Travis would enjoy.

After the gang destroys and puts the cult behind bars. No demons, no murders, and no dead friends. Sal manages to convince Travis to report his father, thankfully they kept his clothes to give to the state police, Todd refused to trust the local police after further investigating the cult and their connections.

Healing and coping, cuddling and coddling. Travis getting the love and attention he deserves! Could end with him dating someone or him just being under their care for a while.

—Salvis but Sal is a bit more aggressive with Travis. Fuck it ABO, Travis is a very spicy omega that pretends to be a Beta. Sal is a strong scented alpha, like it’s a musky and domineering scent compared to his appearance. Larry is an alpha, though his scent is murky and smoky, and he doesn’t act like the stereotypical alpha. Travis nitpicks them like usual, though sometimes they are too distracted by the nice smell seeping off of him. Larry sneers and asks if Travis mom scented him before school. Travis is upset at this. Much more emotional than usual. Sal notes the spike in scent and jabs Larry.

Uh oh, Travis is presenting in the bathroom, and beta Philip isn’t able to fight off the alphas coming to investigate the scent, thankfully Sal is here to soothe and calm the terrified Travis while his friends help fend off the other students.

Mr. Phelps is pissed about an omega son. Travis is constantly scented with distress. He isn’t allowed to talk about it but everyone can smell it. They are well aware of Travis’ fluctuating weight, fatigue and his tan skin turning pale and bruised worse than before. Larry is annoyed by this but can’t tell whether it’s the scent affecting him or his stern belief in protecting omegas from abusive alphas.

Sal hates it, he knows he felt the mate bond but Travis doesn’t seem to notice. Travis’ suffering eats away at Sal until he all but corners Travis and propositions him to save him from his father and give him sanctuary. It takes a lot to convince Travis. Heck, he has to promise Larry wouldnt hurt him (Larry later seeks Travis to reconcile their bad blood).

They get to know eachother. Sal is head over heels and watching Travis grow and blossom into his omega blood. Travis starts falling for someone else and Sal tries to be supportive (until he can’t even look at Travis without feeling heartache). But Travis notes he doesn’t love ____ And follows his heart to Sal. They bond, they love and boom, happy little family. (With three cute babies because Travis and Sal deserve happy families)

Larvis: roughly the same as the salvos ABO but Larry straight up picks up Travis and carries him home. Travis tries to fight but is swaddled and pampered until he’s fast asleep and purring in Larry’s arms.

Mr. Phelps doesn’t have much ground to stand on when he tries to take Travis back. Larry confirming that Travis is his mate and based off of Phelps’ beliefs he should reside with his mate.

Travis is surprised his father backs off so easily (because how could the pastor refute what he preaches?? Such blasphemy would be heard by the church blah blah blah). Larry and Travis talk and Larry admits that they are indeed mates, he never brought it up for Travis’ health. He was already struggling to care for himself, a mating bond would send his already feeble body and fragile mind spiraling. Larry also admits he knew they were mates ever since he presented, which wasn’t that long after entering highschool. But, Travis was so proud to be ‘normal’ and not some horny mess like the others. He also didn’t like seeing Travis harass and bully others, which probably aided in his aggressive rejection of the omega and prolonged Travis’ presentation.

Life goes on and Larry and Travis are happily married with four kids (two more in the oven, because Larry is a very affectionate husband). Cult was handled and Sal is NOT dead and very much the worlds best uncle.

-Travis having a hot girl summer.

That’s it. That’s the plot.

Thotty church twink marching about in short shorts and tank tops (sinful!) showing off his goodies to the masses. Larry shamelessly offers to partake, and gets thrown for a whirlwind when Travis’ phat ass is delightfully uncontrollable. Sal jokingly shoots his shot and winds up slumped in the back of the church from immaculate head.

Mr. Phelps is away so the thot is out to play. (Courtesy of Mama Phelps aiding and abetting her sons growth as a person. He may be throwing it back to the boys he once sneered at but at least he’s nicer to people)

-Travis being rescued from the Phelps home after a concerned report to the state police. The church closed and his father put behind bars for many accounts of child abuse and neglect and the disappearance of Travis’ mother.

Sal and gang are curious about what the new home will do to Travis after months of rehabilitation, and all damn near faint when they see Travis with long pink hair and a cute sun dress marching into the school. Directly towards them and apologizing for his horrible treatment of them, specifically Sal. They can’t believe his change at first but after weeks of watching him, he seems genuinely happier.

This new happiness starts to get unsettling to Larry, who watches Travis and Philip be closer than before. He shouldn’t care he hates Travis! But god he wished the boy would wrap his arms around his and march down the halls. He would kill to get surprise back hugs or do the hugging. He wanted to share lunch with Travis. Be hand fed meals and have his mouth cleaned whilst being scolded.

Fuck, he’s in love! He thought he nipped that in the bud when Sal started getting bullied by Travis. But no, Travis being rescued from his awful father and being a genuinely good person from then on was astounding. Hell, he even brought Sal treats as an apology for walking in on him with his mask off once. Sal said it was fine but Travis babbled ok about feeling bad because Sal looked terrified even though Travis didn’t think Sal was any less cool. (Yes, Sal cried in his room about how much it meant for someone to say that).

For fucks sake, Travis had pictures upon pictures of his new family and their pets. PETS. He had dooogs, god Larry lost his mind seeing Travis jogging around town with dogs in shorts and a sweaty, almost see through tank top!! He’s too gay for this.

He finally confesses, maybe tries to play it off as a joke, but Travis just smiles sweetly and pecks his cheek. He’s sorry but he’s already dating someone. Larry tries not to let his disappointment show, but he just can’t feel the need to go to school for a couple of days. Hides out in his tree house and just smokes. Cause, cmon.. who’d wanna date him?? All he does is smoke and play around! He hasn’t had a stable relationship in years and most he’s known for is sleeping with whoever he deems the hottest.

Sal notices his behavior and tries to comfort him, not sure why Larry is like this, by offering to introduce him to his partner. Maybe they have a friend Larry is interested in. Larry wants to be supportive but he really doesn’t care to see Sals new beau(ty). He really just wanted to camp out in the tree house and smoke away the pain. Or, he did until he sees Travis and Sal holding hands and nuzzling on the couch one day. Sals legs on Travis’ and Travis combing Sals hair. Larry felt like his world came crashing down, his best friend?? And his first and worst crush?? The crush that sent him spiraling for what could have been weeks? Sal is innocent, he didn’t know that Larry was madly in love with Travis. Didn’t know that Travis so politely rejected him and offered to cease contact if Larry felt he couldn’t be around him.

Larry wasn’t much of a romantic after that. He played around with whoever he felt needed love. His partying spiraling out of control in adult hood. Travis tried to contact him and help him find a good person, but any attempts to help Larry ended with Larry crying to him drunkenly. Asking why he wasn’t good enough, why he couldn’t have been Sal. Travis wasn’t allowed near Larry after Larry drunkenly made advances at him, he doesn’t blame Larry he’s extremely emotional, but Sal felt Larry would only get worse the more they stayed in contact, so they were kept apart.

Larry never loved anyone as much as he loved Travis Fisher.

-Last one was a sadder Onesided Larvis, this one is Larry teasing and cornering Travis so much that Travis tries to shock him by kissing him. He came home with some hickies and a very prominent limp.

They’re not saying, yet, but Wingman Sal is politely judging Travis into Larry’s arms. They are constantly alone together. Larry blowing Travis’ back out in an abandoned amusement park when the others split up to explore. “He sprained his ankle running from a shadow” Hmph, Travis smelt like axe. He HATES the smell of axe… but okay lovebirds.

Sal has 100% walked in on the secret lovers getting frisky when moms out. Later helps Travis shop for more pretty clothes, because who wouldn’t want a shopping body??? That’s almost illegal to not take the opportunity.

Larry eats ass. A lot. Travis can literally be on FaceTime shopping with Sal and Larry just slips under the covers and enjoys his fill of boyfriend cheekies~ yum!

Travis, as revenge, will give the gawk gawk 9000. Larry is NOT safe if he thinks Travis has forgotten the embarrassment of Sal chuckling and telling him he has to go walk his homework. He could be on the phone with his boss or Lisa and Travis will give the sloppiest top he’s ever had. (Praise the son for horni bratty bottoms)

[volturiwolf]

The Volturi Princess - A Felix Volturi x fem!Reader Story (part 2)

No of Words: 5182

Mentions of: Abandonment, Abortion, Anxiety, Blood, Bruises, Coma/Comatosed State, Death Emotional Abuse, Emotional and Physical Pain, Gaslighting, Greece/Greek Language - with translation, Heartbreak, Italian Language - with translation, Manipulation, Murder, Pain, Panic Attacks, Pregnancy, Suffering, Suicide/Suicidal Thoughts, Swear Language, Throwing Up/Puking, Witches/Wizards/Witchcraft

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part 1

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Felix’s POV:

My days in the castle were becoming more and miserable by the minute. I couldn’t stop thinking about (Y/N), she was always on my mind. When there was a mission, I would make myself forget her for a while and would focus on my job. But in times like this, when there was nothing to do in particular, I would stay in my room for hours and hours, and just wouldn’t think about anything else, but her.

It must have been about two decades or so that she left Volterra to “explore the world”, as she said. Time is pretty subjective when you’re supposed to live forever. Yet, I was mentally counting every moment she was away. I was taking mental notes of everything that was going around here, every prank Demetri and I would pull off to annoy either Jane or each other, every important event or mission we were sent to, so I could tell (Y/N) later. I smiled at the thought of her laughing along with me, and then my smile dropped when I realized she may never even come back.

Why would she? Living with the Volturi - with Aro - controlling her life, how she should have looked like, how she was expected to act in every different situation, and, on top of that, pushing her to her physical and mental limits to declare any gift besides strength, speed and tracking must have been exhausting for her. All these years.. All these years of emotional isolation must have affected her greatly.

Aro had never been the most affectionate person I’ve met. When the twins joined the Volturi, and then the Guard, he focused on them exclusively, training and mentoring them every day to develop their gifts. (Y/N) was pushed aside, a lost cause; she would never be the powerful vampire/weapon Aro hoped he acquired all these centuries ago.

He hoped that she would manage to declare a power similar to her mother - an exceptional mind-reader (and shield, as we found out centuries later) or even a new and unique power, given her father’s lineage. (Y/N) never expressed anything “unique” for Aro’s standards, but to me, she was just perfect. We were equally strong and fast - maybe she was even stronger and faster than me, and she was also an incredible tracker, like Demetri, though he could track anyone he has ever met, just by hearing their conscience.

And now, she is gone. She had left me. I caught myself quite a few times thinking what would our lives be like, had I told her how I felt - and still feel - about her. I am pretty sure that she was feeling the same, that she felt our bond, our connection. But, just like her, I never came forward; I was never true to myself, or her; I never told her that I would dedicate my immortal life to her if that meant that she would stay here with me.

And now, I pay for it. I've been drowning in misery and pain. Not physical pain, I could handle physical pain by now. Even Jane’s induced pain was nothing compared to the kind of pain I’ve been feeling ever since (Y/N) left. I felt as if I were a mortal and my heart was ripped out of my body and stepped on. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe, though I didn’t actually need to breathe.

Demetri must have heard my sharp gasps for air, as my door opened widely, a terrified Demetri standing under the framework. He stared at my unwell state, and rushed to me, hugging me tightly. I left a few sobs and felt tears that couldn’t come. Demetri did not say a word for a few minutes, stroking my hair with his left hand and holding me with his right one. I held onto him as if I was holding on for dear life.

My mind was just blurry and I couldn’t think straight. Was that what it felt like, being away from your mate? I missed her dearly. All these years, I never told anyone other than Demetri about (Y/N) possibly being my mate, although I think Marcus would probably know already.

As my sobs started coming to an end, I was able to finally take deep breaths, and focus my mind on a particular spot on the floor to calm myself. Demetri cupped my face with his hands, trying to calm me down by saying a few comforting words. To outsiders, this scene may have looked strange, if not weird, but Demetri and I, being best friends for almost one millennium, had that kind of intimacy, and we both liked how open we could be to each other.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them slowly, feeling a bit calmer than I did 10 minutes ago. I needed to feel each moment of my pain; I needed to feel again what it’s like being apart from the only person I ever loved; I needed to remember every moment I was close to her, and then wasn’t.

“Are you feeling better now?” Dem asked calmly, still holding my face. I nodded slightly, and he let his hands fall on his lap. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” I nodded again. I nodded again.

He frequently caught me thinking absentmindedly, or even sobbing slightly, but never a full-on breakdown. He took my quite big hands in his smaller ones, patting them condescendingly. I didn’t want to be pitied by others, but Dem never made fun of me for hurting, never made me feel less of the “evil executioner” I was known to be.

“I don’t know what it feels like, being separated from your mate, so I won’t tell you how to feel or act about it. I just want you to know that you can come to me if you feel down. It pains me to see you hurting, though I understand that her very absence has affected you greatly. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, and I’ll always be here for you, no matter what. You may not see it, but Alec, even Jane, worries about you and want you to be happy. We will all do whatever it takes to see you happy again, even if that means running after (Y/N)..”

My head jolted. I asked him if he was serious. “I’m not lying or joking, Felix. If we have to go after her and bring her back to you, we’ll do it. You’re our friend and we’re your friends. That’s what friends do.”

I couldn’t believe it! There was a chance that (Y/N) was still out there, and my friends were willing to help me find her. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, the Witch Twins felt like true friends to me, and as long as I had them and Demetri, I think I could do anything in this world.

Now, we just had to talk to the twins, and see what they thought of it. I don’t know if we were even allowed to drop off all the missions and duties we had here and go search for (Y/N). I know we had to take the kings’ permission before we could do anything, and I was worried and kind of terrified with the idea of them knowing (Y/N) and I were mates, and how badly in love I was with her.

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Demetri’s POV:

It was just another day in the Volterra castle. I was wandering around, having finished my duties for the day, probably for the week as well - it all depended on the Masters’ or the Twins’ mood for a “sudden, important mission” popping up in my schedule.

I wasn’t the type of person to spend their free time in the library, like the Twins, or in my room, like Felix. I vaguely remember my human life. My family was a typical middle-class Athenian family, and we were lucky enough to own a decent piece of land for cultivation. I would spend hours working on the fields, planning possible expansions and new techniques for richer crops.

I smiled slightly at the memory; that’s basically what I mostly remembered from my mortal life before Amun found me and turned me into what I am today. Before I traveled to Egypt to live with the Egyptian coven. Before Aro found me and converted me to his coven. I didn’t know how he managed to convert me then until I found out about Chelsea’s gift.

But even then, I never actually felt the need to leave the Volturi. I had a good life here; I had great friends; easy access to human blood, thanks to Heidi; I had it easy for the price I paid serving the three Volturi kings.

My train of thought was cut short when I heard quiet sobs. I wasn’t regarded as the best tracker for nothing; based on the volume of the sobs, the surrounding atmosphere, and the tone of the voice coming out, I could easily detect that it was Felix, sobbing in his room.

I run quickly, not caring about anyone walking through the corridors. I reached his door and opened it widely, not caring to wait for a response. I saw Felix sobbing on his bed, his eyes tearless but still desperate, trying to gasp for air, although we don’t really need to breathe. I rushed to his side, hugging him tightly, letting his sobs shake through my body.

I didn’t say a thing for some time, stroking his hair with one hand and holding him with my other, trying to find the right thing to say to calm him down. He held on to me for dear life, and I felt as if he was, once again, upset for (Y/N). His sobs started slowing down and he started taking a few deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Without thinking, I cupped his face, telling him a few comforting words, watching him close his eyes, and taking one deep breath.

“Are you feeling better now?” I asked him calmly, and I felt myself getting calmer as he nods slightly. I let my hands fall on my lap and asked him what I’ve been thinking about all this time. “Were you thinking about (Y/N) again?” Felix nodded, confirming my suspicions.

I caught him plenty of times not being himself - his cautious, meticulous, present self; the one who was always concentrated and focused on the present. He sobbed often these days, but never a full-on breakdown. This had me worried. I took his hands in mine and patted them, showing him that I understood what he was going through, although I, myself, never found my mate. I told him so, that I didn’t know what it was like for him to be away from his mate, but also that I would never disregard how and what he felt.

I just didn’t want him to hurt; I wanted him to know that I’ll always be there for him, whenever he needed me. And, though he may not actually believe it, Alec and Jane were also worried about him. He may have not noticed it, but I wasn’t the only one who saw that he was in pain.

Alec and Jane also saw that Felix was not his confident, straightforward self anymore, so I told them once what I suspected all along. That the absence of (Y/N) affected him way more than it affected Jane, who was (Y/N)’s best girlfriend, or even Heidi, Chelsea, and Corin, even Renata, who spent most of her time on Aro’s side, being his main bodyguard.

Without thinking clearly, I suggested that we could all go after (Y/N), find her, and bring her back to Felix. His head jolted, and looked at me in disbelief, not being sure if I was serious. I told him I was, and, at this moment, his whole demeanor changed. It was probably the first time after such a long time that I’ve seen him actually smiling, and my undead soul felt at peace at last. We now only had to inform the twins, and, probably, anyone else willing to help.

My only worry was the kings, especially Aro; he probably didn’t know about (Y/N) and Felix’s mate bond, and I don’t even know what he’ll think of it when he finds out. Now, I had other things to worry about; how to get the Twins to come with us and bring (Y/N) back to Volterra.

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“We’re in.” Jane declared decisively, Alec agreed along with a nod, standing close to his twin.

“Are you both sure about that? We don’t know if the kings will allow us to go find her. Heck, I don’t even know if I could track her. I could never track (Y/N)’s mind, like ever. We may be wandering in vain, searching for her in places she’s never been. It may take a lot of time if we ever find her.”

I wanted to be honest with them about the worst-case scenario, feeling Felix slightly squirm nearby. I turned around to face the giant. His face was a mix of pain and anger, his eyes a dark burgundy, almost black from not feeding the past few weeks. This reminded me to get him to hunt soon, whether we left Volterra or not. I turned back to the twins.

“Demetri. You know that (Y/N) is our friend, too. Alec and I would do anything to bring her back.” Jane then turned to Felix. “Whatever happens, we will all stand by your side.” Felix mumbled a small “thank you”, so quiet that only us four could barely hear, still looking down, at the floor.

“We have to go and tell them.” I announced, gulping my non-existent saliva. They all knew I was referring to the three kings, and we all knew the possibility of being denied to leave on this mission of ours.

“Let me handle this. You know they cannot deny me anything.” Jane stated and led the way towards the throne room, full of confidence and reassurance.

It was true after all that Jane and Alec, being the kings’ favourite guards, were not denied anything. (Y/N) enjoyed such privileges as well, being the continuation of Aro’s bloodline, possibly our future Queen, if the kings ever decided to step down from their royal duties.

Within a minute, Jane opened the doors to the throne room widely and stepped in, followed closely by Alec and Felix and I following nearby.

“Jane! Alec! To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing my two favourite children?” Aro almost chirped at the sight of the twins, not even acknowledging Felix and I’s presence.

He has always been too nice to the twins, the Volturi’s most powerful offensive weapons. My gift and Felix’s raw strength are nothing compared to Jane’s ability to inflict mental pain, or Alec’s ability to deprive one or multiple people’s senses at will.

“Masters, the four of us request your permission to leave on a mission. We don’t know how long it will take us or when we’ll come back, but I assure you we’ll be back as soon as we’re done with it.” Jane informed the kings confidently, and Aro’s brows furrowed slightly.

“What kind of a mission, dear Jane? I don’t remember giving you all a mission recently.” Aro seemed curious, as he nodded towards Jane to come closer. Jane obeyed, stepping closer to Aro and extending her hand towards him, who gladly took it into his palms.

A few minutes passed by, with Aro looking nowhere in particular, while he studied Jane’s thoughts, until he came back, and let Jane’s hand slowly out of his own ones. Felix tensed beside me; we both knew now that Aro knows about the purpose of our mission, and that he may also know about (Y/N) and Felix’s bond, as he stared at him with an evil smirk. He turned towards Marcus.

“Is it true, brother?” He asked the melancholic vampire to his right. Marcus seemed unamused, which was quite typical of him.

“Yes. They’ve been mates for quite some time.” He dragged his words.

Aro turned back to us. “And yet, (Y/N) chose to leave Volterra, to “explore the world”, away from her mate. Seems that their bond is not as strong after all.”

Felix was becoming more and more furious beside me. I could sense his distaste towards our master, as Aro invalidated their bond, and probably, him being his granddaughter’s mate. Felix confessed to me multiple times that he didn’t feel worthy of being (Y/N)’s mate; that she deserved a lot more than just an average vampire guard.

That’s why he never confessed his true feelings towards her, only looking at her from afar, and hoping that one day, she would confess her feelings first, so they could be together forever. Neither of them ever confessed, and, with (Y/N) being gone for quite some time now, Felix seemed to have regretted not telling her. Maybe they could have been together now, and he wouldn’t have his heart broken over her absence.

Aro’s voice broke my train of thought. “You have my permission to go find my granddaughter, but, before you go, you’ll have to make a plan. I cannot risk my guards leaving Volterra for too long. You’ll have to decide who will come with you, and you’ll have to be back as soon as you find her. No procrastination. You have three days to plan and make your decisions. Now, go, and make sure you bring (Y/N) back!” Aro waved his hand, showing us our way out of the throne room.

We never thought we had to make a plan to find (Y/N); we didn’t expect Aro to let us leave on such a mission, where we wouldn’t know if we’d even find (Y/N). But he did, and now we had to make a plan. We knew that it would definitely be Felix, the twins, and me, but we didn’t know if anyone else wanted to join us.

Word spread fast because, within a few hours, most of the guards were already trying to help us decide on a plan, whether they could or could not join us on the actual mission. In the end, we decided it would be just the four of us, and we only had to make a plan as to where we would go to search for (Y/N).

We left within 3 days, going down to Sicily, traveling across the sea, to Malta, where we found Renata’s family. When we asked them about (Y/N), out of fear of Jane and Alec, her uncle told us she visited them once, about 20 years ago. “She kept saying how she planned to travel the world, Europe, Asia, America, Africa.. Wherever she could go.” Luca kept saying.

We left immediately after that. We decided to continue with our plan, first traveling across Europe. It wasn’t an easy task; most of the continent was at war with the Ottomans, and the rest was divided into smaller or bigger countries, nothing stable or permanent yet. We passed through North Europe, traveling towards the South, traveling across North Africa, ending up in Egypt.

I met with Amun, almost 700 years after I left him and Egypt for Aro and Italy. He was neither pleased nor surprised. He was rather cautious and guarded due to the Twins’ and Felix’s presence. He didn’t ask me why I left him, but he did invite us to stay in Egypt for some time. We told him we were in a hurry, we had to find (Y/N).

“So, it is true then? Aro’s granddaughter abandoned him at last..”. He grinned.

“What do you mean “at last”?” Felix became upset quite quickly.

“You never realized it before? When Chelsea, (Y/N) and yourself came with Aro and took Demetri with you, I saw it in (Y/N)’s eyes.” We were all confused. Amun continued.

“She looked miserable. She probably didn’t even want to be here, doing Aro’s bidding. She wasn’t made to serve him and his every wish. She indeed passed by a decade or two ago. She apologized for her part in Demetri’s departure, and she stayed with us for about a month or two. I welcomed her because I understood Aro destroyed her life, just as he destroyed ours.”

“What did she want in Egypt?” Felix was becoming more anxious by the minute.

Amun continued his narration. “She wanted to learn about Egypt, the Pyramids, the Pharaohs. She told me she read a lot about Ancient Egypt; how Alexander the Great colonized Egypt and many Greeks have been living here ever since; how the Great Pyramids were built. She just wanted to see all the history from up close. She wanted to experience everything. Who wouldn’t, right?” He grinned again, like the proud Egyptian he was, having seen all of Egypt’s glory through the past millennia.

It was Jane’s time to ask the questions. “So, she just visited? She didn’t say where she was going after she left?”

“She said she wanted to go and visit places. Though, she didn’t say where she would go. I would tell you if I knew.” Amun looked arrogant but cautious. He wouldn’t risk getting on Jane’s bad side, so he chose to tell the truth about (Y/N).

“We won’t be staying then. Let’s go.” Jane ordered and ran out of Amun’s palace, Alec following closely behind her.

Felix stayed behind, and I stopped in my tracks. “If you have her and you lied to us, I swear I will rip you apart with my own hands!” Felix pointed at Amun while threatening him.

Amun didn’t seem to be phased at all. “Believe me, I wouldn’t want to get on Aro’s bad side. I already lost someone important to me.” He looked straight at me, and then back to Felix. “But, if you want to find her, you may want to find Carlisle first. She admired him, for choosing to be more human than vampire. When he visited me last time, he did mention how (Y/N) was the only Volturi that didn’t really seem to actually belong in the Volturi. She was too kind for her own good.”

Felix's jaw clenched, and I grabbed him before he managed to attack Amun. I mumbled a “thank you” to Amun, and we ran to find the Twins. My tracking skills could sense Carlisle from a distance, so it wouldn’t be hard to find him. Finding (Y/N), though, was a totally different story.

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(Y/N)’s POV:

I woke up with a throbbing headache in an unknown place. My eyes couldn’t focus on anything in particular around me. I could barely distinguish the wooden furniture around me, and the burning fire in the fireplace. My hand traversed through woolen fabrics of different textures. Was I in bed? Was I in a bedroom? As my senses started to go back to normal, I started hearing people talking, a woman and man talking..in Greek?

“Αλέξανδρε, η (Ο/Σ) γύρισε! Το κοριτσάκι μας γύρισε επιτέλους!” (“Alexander, (Y/N) is back! Our little girl is finally back!”)

“Το ξέρω, Στέλλα. Πρέπει να την προστατεύσουμε, να την κρατήσουμε κοντά μας. Δε γίνεται να γυρίσει πίσω στη Βολτέρρα.” (“I know, Stella. We have to protect her, to keep her close to us. She cannot go back to Volterra.”)

“Τι θα κάνουμε αν την ψάξει ο Άρο ή κάποιος άλλος από τη φρουρά; Το ξέρουμε και οι δυο ότι, όπου και να είναι, θα κινδυνεύει.” (“What are we going to do if Aro or someone else from the Guard is looking for her? We both know that, wherever she is, she will be in danger.”)

“Το μόνο που μπορούμε να κάνουμε είναι να φροντίσουμε να την προετοιμάσουμε κατάλληλα. Πρέπει να μάθει το πραγματικό μέγεθος της δύναμής της. Ένιωθα τη δύναμη που είναι συσσωρευμένη μέσα της. Μπορεί να κάνει πραγματικά σπουδαία πράγματα, αρκεί να μάθει να ελέγχει τον εαυτό της και τις δυνάμεις της.” (“The only thing we can do is to make sure she is prepared accordingly. She has to learn the true extent of her power. I felt the power built up inside her. She can do amazing things, as long as she learns to control herself and her powers.”)

I was confused. My parents.. I found my parents. I faintly remember when I met them in the woods. I looked down at my body. I did not wear my white gown anymore, the one which I had once cut below the knee, so I could run around freely. I was now wearing a red dress, the vest covered in gold details. The vest’s sleeves went down, just a few centimeters above my wrists. The dress was made of silk, and it felt nice against my skin; I was finally wearing new, clean clothes and it felt nice.

I jumped out of the bed, and the dress flew around me, falling gently just above my ankles. There was a tearing to the side, which I thought was a nice detail, so I could actually run. I ran at a vampire speed towards the door and out of the room. I saw my parents talking in the living room, in front of the fireplace where another fire was burning bright and warmed up the room.

“Για τι πράγμα μιλούσατε; Σας άκουγα. Γιατί να έρθουν για μένα; Τι πρέπει να μάθω;” (“What were you talking about? I heard you. Why would they come for me? What do I have to learn?”)

My mother cupped my face affectionately. “Ψυχούλα μου, το ξέρεις ότι ο Άρο θα σε αναζητήσει. Θα κάνουμε τα πάντα για να σε προστατέψουμε, αλλά πρέπει να μάθεις να πολεμάς για τον εαυτό σου. Ήρθε η ώρα να μάθεις για τις πραγματικές σου δυνατότητες. Ο μπαμπάς σου θα σου μάθει ό,τι χρειάζεται να μάθεις για να εξασκήσεις τη μαγεία σου.” (“My little soul, you know that Aro will look for you. We’ll do everything to protect you, but you’ll have to learn to fight for yourself. It’s time to learn about your true capabilities. Your dad will teach you whatever you need to know to practice your magic.”)

“Now, follow us, (Y/N). I will teach you everything I know.” Dad took one of my hands in his and mom took my other hand in hers, and they led me outside, to the garden.

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

In the months that followed, I learned how to defend myself using my powers; how to cast spells; how to attack; I even learned how to use dark magic. And as time passed and I perfected my magic, the more magic and energy I could pump out of me, and the more I felt drawn to dark magic. It gave me an unexplainable power; a confidence that I could define my own life; a confidence that I could free myself from Aro.

My only concerns were my friends and Felix; though I was quite powerful by now, the only thing that kept me behind, trapped between what I have to do for myself and what I have to do for others, was the thought of Felix. I have already lost so much time being away from him, and sometimes, that was translated to physical pain, which I didn’t know could happen between mates. I assumed that it was the same for him as well, and I didn’t want him to be in pain.

Unlike the other vampires, I could cry, heck, I would cry for hours and hours. And that pain, that emptiness, would eventually feed the darkness in me. I couldn’t see it at first, but I started having darker, evil thoughts. I stopped feeding off of animals and started killing people. I killed people for their blood, or for fun - either way, I would still consume their blood. I was feeding my thirst and my darkness, becoming insensitive and slowly mad for revenge.

My parents wouldn’t say anything; I knew that it was part of their plan to get revenge on Aro. Unbeknownst to my mom, I also managed to copy her mind-reading, and having already copied Aro’s power, I could manage to know everything both of my parents have ever thought about. My magic penetrated her shield quite easily, and I managed to learn everything I needed to know about their plan, their lives, their abilities, and magic.

I was now way more powerful than them. I didn’t need them; they needed me - they needed me to take over Volterra. It all started as a need to take over territory and become powerful; powerful enough that they could challenge the Volturi and cease their powers, possibly manage to take me and any other powerful guard they found under their rule.

However, me finding them made their plan way easier - they knew that they could persuade me to do their bidding and join them. I was their daughter after all; we were family, and, although they didn’t raise me, they knew that I would much rather stay with them than Aro, given his past.

I didn’t oppose their plan; I wasn’t fond of it, but I didn’t mind. It could be a way to be finally recognized and appreciated. I could finally become the princess, officially, and I could take my friends and Felix away from Aro. We would be together; we wouldn’t be scared of what Aro may think of us; we would be finally free.

These thoughts pushed me day after day to push myself and my limits more. I had to become as powerful as I could ever be. The darkness was consuming my soul and I was welcoming it; I wanted to be in power; I wanted to be in control. I visualized the darkness surrounding me and consuming me; a black smoke swinging out of my body, surrounding me, and swirling around me. I could feel my eyes stink and I smelled the blood that was now oozing out of them. I felt my insides twist and turn, and I screamed in pain; my feet not being able to support my body anymore, as I fell down on my knees.

I felt the darkness “painting” my soul and turning it into a long abyss. I felt my humanity being stripped away from me, like a hand reaching out and ripping my heart out of my body and slowly crashing it. And then, it all stopped. I raised my head and looked at the world around me in a different light. The world was darker, meaner; everyone was my enemy. I would not let anyone subjugate me again; I would not be a victim anymore. I would take my revenge on the Volturi, I would make them pay.

[haikyuuhimbosandhypebeasts]

Heliotrope

Here’s my submission for the Forget Me Not collab for Anisylum! Please note the TW as it is VERY heavy. This piece is entirely SFW though!

Ship: Tsukishima Kei x GN! Reader Genre: Angst, but some fluff in some places. Word Count: 2.2k  Trigger/Content Warnings: near death experience, hospitalization, COVID-19, vomit mention, amnesia after hospitalization, a suicide attempt is briefly mentioned, swearing because this is by me Sexy Sexy Masterlist: here!

Sand clung to skin and the harsher rays of light that usually cascaded and burnt you had died away into a fading tangerine glow. You perched comfortably on the sand, taking note of the undulating waves- they were like you in the sense that while you could crash down hard on the opposition, you would shy away in a fragile manner when faced with gentle treatment. Perhaps it was that you felt you weren’t worth such luxuries that you found it hard to make friends through your first few years of high school. Perhaps it was trying to push people away because you were afraid yet alarmingly aware of your mortality. Perhaps it was something else entirely, something you weren’t quite ready to come to terms with. What you did know was that you weren’t alone in the violent struggle through high school to make friends while you had your walls up. Next to you was someone you never thought you’d share your favorite place with; in any terms you found this boy appalling with his behavior. So appalling, you saw yourself in the way he closed himself off and cut those close with tongue lashings. You knew this only through another friend who took issue with him as you went to another school in an entire other prefecture. Words mauled their way out from your throat, breaking the silence between you and Tsukishima Kei. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life.” You didn’t understand yourself. Why would you say that…? You don’t remember anything like this at all… His response was equally incoherent and odd. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.” When you opened your mouth to reply to him, the ground around you suddenly reared up like a defensive serpent. A pillar of beach sand forced its way from the ground into your throat, suffocating and trapping your lungs in permanent fullness. You could only gag and cry, unable to even see Tsukishima past the torrent of sand breaking into your body with the intent to kill you slowly…

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You woke up once more in that dull grey-blue and white room with the only sounds you could properly process being the beep of a heart monitor somewhere behind you. You had managed to halfway curl into somewhat resembling the fetal position, but something kept making you cough and gag as your throat was caught. You move your hand to whatever is catching and about to make you vomit- a tube. This tube, you followed, was in your nose good and solid, and you felt it deep enough in your sinuses you didn’t dare try to pull it out. Moving your hands felt foreign like you had forgotten how to process being human and natural motions like that. You testingly ran your right hand down the tube, taking care to not tug and cause discomfort. Your other hand came to rest on your face. It was slick from sweat, likely due to whatever the fuck you just had a dream about. At the corner of your lips was another tube and when you followed where it led it was taped to the side of your face. You lick your lips and manage to almost fall into a haze until you see movement for the first time in what feels like forever. To be fair, it is one of the most jarring appearances of a person you’ve seen in your whole life to what you can recall. A person in a full-body hazmat suit enters your room through a door you hadn’t even processed was there, then greets you as casually as they can through a plague-resistant suit. “Hey there.” You squint at them. Yeah, you have no fucking idea who this cosplayer in a hospital is, and while you should probably be polite, you feel like you got ran over not once but twice.  You try to speak to them, but you can’t. You don’t have the air for it, it’s like you have no control over your breathing. Clarity washes over you. You’re hospitalized. These are tubes because you were asleep and weren’t breathing or eating right. The realization must show on your face because your nurse speaks up again. “Don’t worry about me too much, we’re just gonna check your vitals and if you feel up to it, we can see how you do without the ventilators.” You try to manage out a “whoopee”, which unimpressively comes out as some form of odd wheeze, and your nurse begins by grabbing the blood pressure cuff covered in protective plastic while they wear a sympathetic expression.

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Once you were off the ventilator, the nurse informed you about what had happened. Apparently, an ambulance was called when you were unresponsive and nearly blue in the face, sitting in front of your refrigerator with the door open. You were diagnosed with a severe case of COVID-19, something you had feared would wipe you out entirely and turn you past tense since its spread in your country. This fear wasn’t entirely irrational, either- you were immunocompromised and have been since you were a child. You grew up with being careful around others and hearing of a highly contagious new strain was something that filled you with so much paranoia you seriously considered quitting your current career and instead adopting a hermit lifestyle while completing college at home. Of course, such a thought was squashed by the slowly impending thought of rent, bills, due dates for assignments, and your bitch of a manager who lets people get close to you without a mask on. It’s not a big deal, (y/n), she once said to you. You wanted to shoehorn some tubes down her throat just to survive, see how that felt. It didn’t help that human resources wouldn’t listen to your complaint. They brushed it off since you were just a lowly sandwich maker at a chain sub place. If you had enough scraped together for lawyers right about now, they’d be totally fucked, you thought to yourself. Even more jarring is that it seemed you lost a handful of memories while in the hospital. You could remember basic outlines of people in your head- your very tall and incredibly testy roommate, your younger sister who wore glasses and was much smaller than you, and… a foggy memory of a man with messy black bedhead who had an arm wrapped around your shoulder. It hurt to think too hard. The doctor soon came by to give you test results, to check your vitals again, and to look over your records. He was a bit terse, but you can’t make the best judgments of people when they’re in plastic suits. “We’ll need to get you cleaned up by tomorrow and you should be able to head home,” he’d said, looking over your chart. You didn’t necessarily feel too ecstatic about your trip to your apartment. You remembered your roommate and how finicky he was, and you dreaded for him to belittle you over your condition. You dreaded it enough to even feel a knot of anxiety form in your stomach, wrenched in between your ribs without the intent of ever coming out. “We’ve already contacted uh…” The doctor squints at the screen, “Tsukishima… to come to pick you up tomorrow at noon. We’ll have care instructions printed out. You still have to quarantine for about a week more since your immune system isn’t at its most prime currently.” You agreed, it probably wasn’t a good recovery idea to make a couple of sammies for the public while you were recovering from a virus that had you intubated. He seemed grateful that you were lucid and cooperative, at least.

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You, predictably, didn’t sleep well after being in a medically induced haze for several days. Even more predictably, you found yourself awake from anxieties of the future. Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then you’d be home. Home… what did that look like for you? The fog in your head was thick initially. You do remember coming home from classes at a different time than Tsukishima, how when you entered he’d often be reading over homework. You remembered how sometimes he would be in the shower and the scent of cheap green apple soap filled the living room connected to it. You remembered… You remembered holding his thin frame in your arms on a bridge, pulling him back from oncoming traffic. You remember how you both collapsed and how the cold autumn air stung your lungs. You remember wide golden eyes staring back at you, as tears slowly filled them, then his normally impartial voice breaking as he hiccuped a sob, “Why? Why did you have to be in Sendai right now?” You felt tears stinging your eyes and a lump form in your throat. You found yourself in distress of your new emotions. Maybe… maybe you can sleep this horrible feeling off. Maybe this fog in your head where you need to know how deep your relationship ran will lift once you get genuine sleep.

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Finally, a knock on the door encouraged you to rouse from your sleeping state. And eloquently, you spoke your true feelings in your sleep-deprived state,  “No.” You hear the doorknob turn and the door open. There’s a lack of a greeting from your nurse nor a quick apology from your doctor for interrupting your sleep. Actually, if you’re gonna use logic, what nurse or doctor is gonna wake up their peacefully sleeping patient in recovery? Thought of it being your doctor or nurse practically evaporates once the intruder has a seat on your bed. They still haven’t spoken, so now you’re remembering what tricks of self-defense you learned online to give this person a proper ass-kicking for getting way too close. You crack your hazy eyes open to get a look at where they’re sitting and you stop dead in your thoughts as wary gold eyes peer down at you. Your eyes widen out of reflex and butterflies bloom from your stomach at seeing what you now remember is your roommate. “I knew you were awake,” He said, a wry smile on his face. His expression was betrayed by his concerned gaze, though, “Wow, you look like shit.” You don’t know entirely why past his comment feeling not as an insult, but almost as a compliment, but you smile a little, “I feel like it too.” His expression doesn’t change. He runs a large calloused hand through the tresses of your hair, though, as if to soothe you. The doctor walked in and apologized for interrupting the moment between the two of you, unsure if it was something serious. You told him it was nothing because that’s what it was to you.

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The car ride wasn’t filled with the snarky banter you had been expecting. Instead, there was plentiful comfortable silence as Tsukishima drove. You didn’t know whether to be grateful or not for the silence- you still felt quite feeble and needed way more bed rest before you could get ready to do anything for anyone. Despite the wholesome silence, you felt those round gold eyes focus on you occasionally. And even though it was comfortable, you felt a melancholy twinge in the atmosphere as he inspected you. “I know you’ll give me shit for this… but you look like you’ve lost weight. I uh…” He gripped the steering wheel harder. You glanced over at him. A shade of baby pink dusted itself across his cheekbones and nose as he focused on the road. “I’m worried about you.” Fuck, there go those butterflies again. Something in you pushed to help- to comfort- but the logical side of your brain brought you to a halt. You’d weighed it in your head a couple of times. You two act closer than just roommates, and it’s not entirely clear how or why you got up to this point… but you had a solid hunch you might be dating this guy. Maybe? You closed your eyes and rested your head on the car door as you thought. You remember how sand clung to your body and you could hear the roaring of the sea. How you watched Tsukishima focus on the waves to regulate his breathing. You vaguely remember your words breaking away from your throat and catching the salty sea air. “Why don’t we stay together?” His lanky body stiffened, then he looked at you with disbelief. “... you wouldn’t want that. I’m fucking annoying and mean.” Your eyes creased with familiarity at the line. “Yeah? So am I. We can butt heads until we balance each other out.” It looked like he wanted to cry, but his pride wouldn’t let him cry in front of you anymore today. “I won’t ask you why you tried to do what you did today. But I will ask if there’s anyone you can talk to in your life,” you reached a careful hand over to rub his back, “Kei, if there isn’t, let me be that person.” You felt how his breath shuddered. To save his pride, you looked to the ocean and watched its hypnotic movements. After a few deep, shaky inhales and exhales, he replied. “I don’t understand why you’re being nice to me. Why you didn’t let me die. I will probably come back to this point in my life several times and you’re trying to say you’ll put up with it?” There was some bite to his tone, he was trying so hard to put up walls when he had no will to do so at the moment. How long had he pushed others away from being close? If he was anything like you… it was since grade school. “Let me be your support for when you’re in pain,” You tried once more, “I’m stubborn as shit so I know I won’t give up on you.” “You’re not getting it, you fucking idiot. I’m always in pain, that’s just been life,” he snapped bitterly, glaring at you now.  “Then I guess I’ll be by your side forever.” You’d said it without thinking that day. It was like the ocean grew quieter with your words as if even Poseidon became interested in your proposition. You felt heat rise to your face at the implications of what you said. He stared at you with raised eyebrows and the slightest hint of a champagne pink hue on his face. He averted his eyes almost in a panic and watched the ocean again, suddenly very aware of his own expression. You carefully peered over at him again to see he’d only grown redder, now mirroring you. “You… don’t mean that,” He said as if it were a statement. “I do. You’re a good person inside, but you’re defensive and hurt. I’ve seen that from you in the past and I’ve learned more about you today. I want to be there for you as long as you’ll have me. Will you let me?”  He picked at the sand as if thinking it over for a moment. There was a brief pause as waves rolled over each other in front of both of you, the sound of their impact being the only thing to grace your ears. Finally, his cynical tone returned as he regained some form of his prior composure. “Okay, but I’ll kill you if you go back on it.”

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“Hey. (Y/n), we’re home,” Tsukishima gently shook your shoulder to rouse you from your sleep. You opened your eyes slowly and groaned out a swear. Tsukishima felt a hesitant smile creep up his face as he opted to just try and maneuver you into your shared home himself. He remembered how waking up was hard for you. Once he opened the passenger door you nearly fell out onto the pavement, only saved by your seatbelt and the giant himself. Your face fell awkwardly into his hip, and you grumbled at the interruption to your sleep. “You sleep like the fucking dead, christ,” he mused out loud and sat you up so it was safe to unbuckle your seatbelt. He urged you to get up more- it wasn’t that you were heavy, he just really wasn’t in the place to lift you at the moment and didn’t even know how to go about it. Regardless, he held you up by a shoulder and crouched to make it easier for you both to walk to the apartment. In some part of your sleep, you began to speak, “Kei.” He kept his gaze trained forward at the front door and struggled to grab his keys from his pocket, “Yes?” “Are we married?” Kei dropped his keys, then shot you a look of concern, “... No…?” He had to hold himself back from saying not yet, unsure of what you were getting to. He reached down to grab his keys and he focused back on the door. “Why are you asking?” He unlocked the door and threw it open, getting you both inside finally. He set you on your couch and sat on the floor in front of you. You looked at him suspiciously, now roused from your sleep. The only thing on your mind was that dream- it had to be a memory! You refused to understand it as anything but that. You prodded, “On the beach, I told you I’d be by your side forever.” He seemed to weigh your thoughts heavily in his mind, “... did you forget about us?” You didn’t expect what felt like cold water to hit your back so hard and so suddenly at his suggestion. He didn’t seem hurt at the thought, instead, he found himself occupied with your reaction. His hand reached out to rub the side of your face as you looked at him with wide, guilty eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Your sister told me this kind of thing might happen…” His calloused thumb traced over your lip, and he offered a smile the best he could, “I’ll try to explain it.” Tsukishima explained that what you remembered happened about four years ago and you had been living together ever since. He motioned to photos on the walls of the two of you and people who you could just hardly remember. When you rested your index finger on an individual who was much scrawnier than most of the people there, sitting on the bench with you and watching you speak with admiration, Tsukki put his hand over yours. “That’s your sister. She took most of these pictures, but she usually sits next to you when you have a space available.” You nodded and closed your eyes. You began to remember summers you spent with her in childhood and her yelling at you to do your homework when you bothered her as you got older. You smiled a bit. Once your eyes opened again, your finger traveled to possibly the tallest person in the room. He was big, but you remembered something warm and comfortable about that man… “That’s Kuroo. You both went to the same high school and you were in his friend group.” You both went on like that for a while until you’d cleared everyone in that picture. Once you did, you sat down to think over the new cluster of names you’d picked up. “... when you promised you’d be here with me forever, did you remember what I promised to you?” Kei asked as he sat next to you. “No… I just remember what happened on the beach up until you threatened to kill me if I took back my promise.” “Oh, right. I was going through that phase,” He seemed displeased with the comment. You found it almost funny but refrained from laughing for his sake. He continued, in a quieter tone, “I promised that if something happened to you, that I would always be here for you, too. That I’d get you back into shape.” His larger hand gently entwined with yours, “... so if you remember that promise and you’ll have me, I’d love to marry you once you get your memories back. … If you want to. I-” You cut him off with a hug to his side, trembling a bit as your emotions got the better of you. You smiled up at him. “I can’t promise I’ll be better fast, and I still feel like several trucks ran through me at once… but I’m happy,” you managed out. You didn’t know what your face looked like right about now and you didn’t have the nerve to look up into Kei’s glasses to check your reflection. He wrapped his arms around you in return, pressing the side of his face against your head. “Please, don’t give me an answer yet. You’re not in the right mental state. I’ll wait for you until you’re ready.” You ran your hands up and down his back. You weren’t exactly afraid of remembering things, but you were quite anxious for what tomorrow might bring for both of you. Despite that, you felt safe recovering in his arms, and you were sure you’d feel that way for a long time.

Have a link to the sexy sexy masterlist down here as well. Unless you’re done reading, then have a good day. But if you’re not there’s some fire stuff in that bad boy.

[nayutai]

The Task At Hand

Pairing Mingyu x Female OC

Word Count 15.1k

Warnings mentions of infidelity, mentions of racism, foul language, anxiety, insecurities, therapy sessions, dumbasses in love, light choking, dry humping

Summary The first year of marriage is always the hardest. Unfortunately for Mingyu and Kamile, the first year as husband and wife may also be their last. 

Notes This absolute behemoth of a fic is my contribution to The Intimacy Anthology where I, along with many other fantastic writers, have explored intimacy in all of its many forms. This fic is incredibly close to my heart and I hope that you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please check out the other stories featured in the project here as well! 

Mingyu fumbles with his keys in the dark as he searches for the one that’ll get him into his house. The alcohol coursing through his system is making this very simple task a lot harder than it needs to be. He shouts victoriously when he finally manages to unlock the front door to stumble inside. He freezes when he hears someone clapping slowly off to his right.

“Two minutes and forty seven seconds. That didn’t take you as long as I thought it would but then again you have been good at finishing quickly these days.” Mingyu groans deep in his throat at the scathing words from the woman staring him down from the love seat in the living room. She lifts a glass of what he can only assume is white wine to her lips, draining it quickly. 

“I’m too drunk for your bullshit tonight, Kamile.” Mingyu grunts as he leans back against the door to steady himself while he toes his sneakers off. All he wants to do is crawl up the stairs to the guest room he’s been sleeping in so that he can go to sleep. He rolls his eyes when he hears Kamile clear her throat from across the room. If he knows anything about his wife, nothing good is about to come out of her mouth. 

“If you didn’t want to hear my bullshit then maybe you should’ve shown up for dinner with my parents tonight.” The venom in her voice makes Mingyu’s blood run cold. He’d totally forgotten about her mother’s birthday dinner tonight. Fuck. As much as he hates to hear her nagging him, even he has to admit that he deserves it this time. This dinner has been planned for months and he should’ve been there. 

He forces his eyes to focus when he looks back over at the brooding woman shooting daggers at him from across the room. It’s then he registers the fact that she’s still fully dressed despite the late hour. Kamile is a huge proponent of being comfortable within the walls of her own home and for her to sit in a dress and heels as she waits on his appearance does not bode well for him in the slightest. He’s surprised that she hasn’t launched her wine glass at his head.

“Whatever or whoever you were out doing,” Kamile rises slowly from the couch, impressively steady in her heels despite the bottle of wine she ran through waiting on her neglectful husband to come home. Silence stretches between them interrupted only by the damning clicks of her shoes against the hardwood flooring. Kamile stops to appraise the man she married when she reaches him, wondering where it all went wrong. 

“…I hope it was worth it.” She silences his groveling with a raised hand. She’s tired of the arguing. Tired of the excuses. Just tired in general. 

Most people would have some sort of emotional response to this but her exhaustion leaves nothing but an empty void in its wake. Mingyu may as well be yelling at a brick wall for all the response he gets from Kamile as she slowly climbs the stairs. The sound of the bedroom door clicking shut echoing around the house may as well have been a gunshot.

“One more thing for her to hold over my fucking head.” Mingyu grumbles as he slowly blazes his own trail up the stairs. He pauses before the closed door to the bedroom they once shared, hand gripping the doorknob in his hand as he contemplates going in to apologize. “What’s the use? Not like she’d listen to me now anyway.”

The bed in the guest room welcomes him like an old friend when he flops down on it, draining him of his energy. Thoughts of how he’ll fix things in the morning drift through his head. Sleep evens out his features, lulling him into a peaceful slumber despite the fact that he’s still fully clothed. The perfect cover for the plans being set in motion right down the hall. 

The sun rouses Mingyu from his sleep way before he’s ready. He could’ve sworn that the curtains were pulled closed when he went to bed but it’s hard to know what’s what when you’re three sheets to the wind at god only knows what time. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone where he’d left it on the nightstand but comes up with a piece of paper instead. It takes a minute for his eyes to focus enough to read the words on the page, but when they do he finds himself bolting for the ensuite bathroom. The offensive piece of stationary gently drifting to the ground as if it hasn’t just ruined his life.

He heaves and wretches until he has nothing left to give. His knees buckle several times as he tries to brush his teeth which is an incredibly difficult task to complete when one is sobbing with everything they have. This can’t be happening. He refuses to believe that this is his reality. Mingyu’s heart sinks even lower when he drags himself back to the bedroom and sees Kamile’s  wedding ring on the night stand next to his phone. He retrieves the letter from where it rests on the floor, reading it over until the tears he’d fought back make a reappearance.

Doing this feels incredibly impersonal but I feel like it’s probably better this way. I realized that the flame I thought would burn forever is barely a spark anymore. Tonight was an epiphany for me. I realize that I deserve better and I’ve decided that I will have it. I’ve always wished you joy and light and I will probably never stop doing that despite everything that’s happened but I can’t do it as your wife anymore. 

Take care,

Kamile Dexter

The usage of her maiden name feels like the final nail in his coffin. He calls. He texts. He emails. He even sends her a message on instagram. Every single attempt to reach her goes unanswered. Anyone could see that things hadn’t been the best between them for a while, but never in his most horrific nightmares did Mingyu think that Kamile would actually leave. 

Time is irrelevant to Mingyu in the days that follow Kamile’s departure. He wakes up when his alarm goes off and drifts through the day. His nights are spent calling Kamile despite the fact that she never answers which then leads to him drinking himself into an alcohol-induced sleep complete with all the blessed numbness that it provides until his alarm goes off once more. This is without a doubt the lowest point of his life and he doesn’t know how to fix it. Kamile grew up with Vernon so naturally Mingyu tries to enlist his help. Unfortunately, it seems that she has anticipated that move and stops answering Vernon’s calls and texts as well. 

With all of his other options seemingly exhausted, Mingyu calls the one person that could possibly help him, Sidra Dexter. A woman with many accolades to her name, Sidra considers being Kamile’s mother to be the most important among them. If anyone knows how to get through to his wife, it’s Sidra. Mingyu prays that she still has a soft spot for him as the phone rings in his ear. If this call goes unanswered, then he really will lose all hope in saving his marriage. 

“It’s about damn time you called me, Gyu Bear. My daughter left you a whole week ago tomorrow and you’re just now enlisting my services? Tell me why that is.” Never a woman to beat around the bush, Sidra gets right to the point with the accuracy of a heat-seeking missile. 

“I don’t know what to do, Mama Dee. She won’t talk to me.” Mingyu whines, on the verge of tears for the umpteenth time today.

“Of course she won’t. She’s stubborn just like her ornery ass father.” The aforementioned father pipes up in the background to defend himself but is quickly shut down. “Now back to you, Gyu Bear. You have messed up big time but I love you so I’m going to help you fix it but I have one question first.”

“Yes, ma’am?”

“Did you cheat on my daughter? And yes that ‘harmless flirting’ shit you men folk like to do counts as cheating in my book.”

“Of course not! Wait…does Kam think I cheated?” Mingyu is floored and honestly a little angered at the fact that after all these years together Kamile thinks he’s actually capable of infidelity. The alcohol-induced haze clears long enough for his brain to recall a comment she’d made the night she left about whoever he was doing being worth it. 

“She sure does,” Sidra starts up, “but luckily for you, my gut says that you’re telling the truth and it hasn’t steered me wrong in the last 56 years so I don’t see a reason not to trust it now. So here’s what we’re going to do.”

Mingyu listens intently as Sidra outlines her master plan. Not for the first time, he’s in awe of the way her brain functions. The tightness in his chest subsides a little bit with every word she says. For the first time in the six days since Kamile left, Mingyu feels like his life has meaning again. His marriage might not be over after all. 

Despite the fact that Kamile had no intention of answering any of Mingyu’s desperate pleas for attention, the sudden cessation of said pleas only serve to further increase her anguish. She’d originally thought she’d be able to finally find peace when he gave up, but that does not seem to be the case. A part of her didn’t want him to stop trying. Didn’t want him to stop fighting for her.

Did I make the right choice?

The question has haunted her every waking moment as she adjusts to her new normal. She’s been adrift for the last ten days trying to figure out her next plan of action. Should she stay in Korea? Should she go back to America? Should she throw a dart at a map and go wherever it lands? The possibilities are endless but Kamile finds herself unable to fully commit to either option which is how she’s ending up existing on takeout in a hotel for the past week and some change. God, why did she have to be so impulsive? She should’ve made sure that she had a game plan before she just up and left like that. 

Her phone rings on the small night stand, interrupting her self-loathing thoughts. Kamile groans when she sees that it’s her mother. Ever since she’d broken the news to her parents that she’d decided to leave Mingyu, her mom has been giving her grief. Kamile had always had a hunch that her mom loved Mingyu just as much if not more than she loved her, but their break up has made her think that her hunch had been closer to the truth than she’d previously thought.

“Hey, ma.” Kamile greets her mother apprehensively, bracing for the latest round of her mother’s reconciliation efforts. 

“Hello, my lovely daughter. I just landed in Seoul so if you don’t mind coming to get me from the airport that would be great.” Kamile chokes on the mouthful of noodles she’d been munching on. There’s no way in hell that her mother just said that she’s in Seoul. Sure enough, Kamile pulls her phone away from her ear to check her mother’s location and it says that she is in fact at the Incheon Airport. 

“Baby, what did I tell you about making sure you properly chew your food before swallowing. Did you forget what happened to your Uncle Tommy?” Kamile barely hears her mother’s recounting about the uncle who’d died from choking on a fish bone as she rushes around her hotel room gathering her things. She can’t believe her mom really flew halfway across the globe. Thankfully, her hotel isn’t far from the airport so Kamile is helping her mother put her bags in the back of her SUV in no time at all.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you or anything, but what are you doing here?” Kamile questions as she eases her car into the steady stream of traffic bound for the exit. 

“You just left your husband and you didn’t come home to me so I don’t know what made you think that I wasn’t coming out here. A friend of mine is letting me stay with her since I know how you are about your space.” 

Kamile is more than a little thankful for that. Her mother can be overbearing when she’s on a mission and the fact that she’ll still be able to maintain some personal space is comforting. She’s only too happy to let the gps in her guide her to this friend’s house. The closer they get to their destination though the more unsettled she becomes. She has no idea why her gut is telling her to be suspicious, but she’s definitely not about to ignore it. Kamile’s sense are on high alert when she turns into the driveway of a nondescript home in one of the more affluent suburbs of the city. 

“Mom, what’s this friend’s name?” Kamile eyes the structure in front of her as if it could possibly grow teeth and bite her. Something is not right here and if there’s one thing her mother taught her, it’s to trust her gut instinct and right now her gut is telling her to throw her car in reverse and get the hell out of dodge. The only thing keeping her from running for the hills is the fact her mother seems so at ease as she hops out of the car to grab her bags. 

“Her name is Bae Yeojin. She studied abroad at Villanova her junior year and we were roommates. She’s got a pretty successful business now.” Kamile hums in acknowledgement. She vaguely recalls her mom telling her about a girl named Yeojin from college, but that does nothing to assuage the uneasiness in her gut. 

Kamile waits at the bottom of the steps as her mother knocks on the front door. Her fingers are drumming on banister, eyes glancing back and forth from the ornate door and her car. She clutches her keys like a lifeline. At the slightest provocation, she’s ready to bolt. The two women squeal like school children and not the established professionals they are at the first sight of each other. Kamile wonders briefly how long it’s been since they last saw each other.

“Kamile Danielle Kim get your ass up here and say hi.” Not one to disobey a direct order, especially one accompanied by her full name, Kamile reluctantly climbs the short staircase.

“Jesus, Sid, you really spit this one right out. She’s practically your twin.” Yeojin exclaims. She pulls Kamile into a quick hug before ushering the both of them inside. 

One deep breath and Kamile instantly realizes why she felt so uneasy. There’s candles burning in the foyer, but they do nothing to mask the familiar scent she’s spent the last six years smelling. Mingyu is in this house somewhere. She spins around to fix the two women with what she hopes is a threatening glare. Unfortunately, neither one of them appears to be phased by it in the slightest.

“What the hell is going on here?” Kamile’s quickly starting to realize that not trusting her gut has landed her in a situation she most definitely has no interest being in. Her eyes quickly dart back and forth between the two scam artists in front of her.

“I told you she’d figure it out. Pay up.” Yeojin doesn’t take her eyes off Kamile as she holds her hand out to Sidra who is grumbling while she digs in her purse to hand over a few bills.

“Dammit, Kam, did I really raise you to be this observant? You’re costing me money.”

“Yes, now what in the fresh hell do y’all have going on?” The answer to her question comes in the form of timid footsteps sounding off behind her. Her spine stiffens. She doesn’t have to turn around to know who it is. She can sense him. “Fuck this. I’m leaving.”

“No, you’re not. Now turn your little narrow butt around and have a seat.” Sidra adopts the tone she’d frequently used when Kamile was growing up and even now as an adult Kamile knows that disobeying this direct order is not the right choice to make. 

It’s with a grimace, that she pivots on her heel to face her husband for the first time since she walked out on him. The satisfaction she feels when she sees just how awful he looks is cancelled out by the fact that she probably looks just as bad. It would be a lie to say that she hasn’t missed the comfort and solace his presence used to bring her. That she doesn’t want to let the outside world fade away as she hides away in his embrace. She wants that back. Craves it even, but enough is enough.

Curse words flow like running water through Kamile’s mind as her mother situates her on a love seat in the living room with Mingyu sat right next to her. His large frame dwarfs the slightly undersized piece of furniture. She can feel the body heat radiating off of him and it’s a battle of wills to keep from leaning into him. 

“First things first…” Sidra claps her hands as she and Yeojin take a seat on the sofa opposite the troubled couple, “I think now is a good time to mention that Ms. Yeojin here is actually a therapist who specializes in couples therapy.”

Of course she is.

Kamile rolls her eyes as the puzzle pieces start clicking into place. She could be buried under her blankets, binging on The Golden Girls right now, but no, her meddling ass mother has scammed her into marriage counseling instead. She should’ve ran when she had the chance.

“Based on what Sid has told me, the two of you are exactly one week shy of your first wedding anniversary and already on the verge of divorce. So, who would like to dump their emotional baggage on the floor first?” Yeojin glances between Kamile and Mingyu looking for a crack in their demeanor that she can exploit. Mingyu looks like he wants to hurl while Kamile’s face is a carefully constructed mask of indifference. She makes her choice easily.

“Mingyu, thank you for volunteering. Let’s hear it.” 

Put on the spot, Mingyu chances a glance sideways at Kamile before clearing his throat. Yeojin sits at the ready with her notebook and pen. She listens intently as Mingyu tells the fiasco as he sees it.

“I know I forget things sometimes. I try not to, but I’m an idol. I have a lot going on but that’s no different from when we first started dating so I don’t know why it’s suddenly such a big issue now.” Mingyu seems to find his voice as he speaks up on how he believes that he’s been wronged. The timid nervousness he’d felt before quickly getting pushed down so that his frustration can take over.

“When we first started dating, I wasn’t being abandoned in a house all day with nothing to do.” Kamile may have been grumbling under her breath but Mingyu hears her loud and clear. His head whips around so fas that the two mothers across from him silently worry about the neck pain that may cause him later. 

“You have nothing to do because you’ve turned down every opportunity that’s come your way.” Thoughts of the numerous job and consulting offers from Pledis and other entertainment companies like them that she turned down come flying to the forefront of his memory. Human resource agents have practically been beating down their door for the chance to work with Kamile, a creative visionary in her own right, but she’s rejected them one after another without a moment’s hesitation.

“You mean every opportunity that you have sent my way. Like why would I want to work at that entertainment company and be forced to watch that bitch Miyeon flirt with you every day like you’re not married?” Mingyu is forced to concede to her point with that one. Miyeon is one of the stylists at the company and, despite his repeated rejection, is too flirtatious for his liking as well. Unfortunately, she’s deeply entrenched in the corporate hierarchy and nothing short of murder would make the higher ups get rid of her even if all of the members have lodged complaints against her. 

“Is that the simple hoe you come home smelling like every time you’re ‘out with the boys’?” Kamile adds on as if she’s finally started connecting some dots in her overactive imagination. The fact that she has even entertained the thought of Mingyu not only cheating on her but cheating on her with Miyeon of all people makes his blood boil.  

“Why do you think I’m cheating on you? Why do you always just assume the worst about me? Do you think Vernon would ever let me even think about cheating on you? The man hates violence but he would beat my ass over you and we all know that.” The frown on Kamile’s face falters at the mention of her oldest friend. Mingyu is correct in saying that he would absolutely fight him, but there are still some thing that aren’t adding up. Yeojin attempts to halt the conversation so that they can delve deeper into what Mingyu just said but Kamile beats her to the punch. 

“You come home smelling like warm vanilla sugar every night when everybody knows that I am a Japanese cherry blossom supremacist. What am I supposed to think, Mingyu?” She can’t believe that he has the audacity to sit next to her and still lie. The palms of her hands itch with the urge to throw things but she’s done enough of that plus this isn’t exactly her house either.

“Seokmin always sprays us down with some random perfume because he says it keeps the women away and honestly, it actually works like a charm so I’m always first in line to get sprayed.” Kamile’s anger deflates almost immediately. To anyone that doesn’t know Lee Seokmin that would sound like a crock of shit, but it’s perfectly on brand for him.

“Well, how was I supposed to know that?”

“We’re fucking married, Kamile. You could’ve just asked. Better yet you could have come with me to these events like I’ve asked you to do a million times.” 

“You know I hate those things.”

“Everyone hates them, but I would hate them a lot less if I had you there with me. I just feel like I’ve been trying to make an effort but you’re not meeting me halfway.”

“I knew my Gyu Bear wasn’t a cheater!” Sidra, who hasn’t set a word since things had started to get heated, pipes up.

“God, Mom could you at least pretend that you love me more than him?” Kamile throws her hands up in frustration. Her mother’s obvious favoritism is really starting to get to her right now.

“Not until you start giving me less grief.”

“Now, now, Sid. Let’s not derail the progress we’re making here. Kamile, is there anything you’d like to bring to the table?” Yeojin pats her dear friend on the back of her hand to reign her back in. She’d hate to ruin the momentum they got going by having Kamile suddenly switch gears to argue with her mother.

Kamile is only too happy to tell her side of the story as she recounts the events of the night that she decided to leave Mingyu and how it was the tipping point for her. Yeojin listens intently, taking note of the fact that none of the issues that Kamile has with her husband are particularly heinous aside from the debunked cheating suspicions. Each transgression on it’s own wouldn’t be enough to end in divorce, but rather it’s the heaping pile of them that overwhelmed Kamile to the point that she felt she needed to get out.

The more she listens, the clearer it becomes to Yeojin that their marriage is suffering not because they don’t love one another but because they’ve forgotten how to talk to each other which has lead to an unfortunate disconnect. The biggest obstacle is definitely going to be Kamile’s determination to end things. She’s made up her mind and getting her to change her mind is not going to be easy.

“I think I’ve heard everything that I need to hear for today.” Yeojin sets her notepad down on her coffee table, relaxing in her chair a bit before she continues. “The first year in a marriage is usually the hardest, but that seems to have been exacerbated by the fact that the two of you have never lived together before now plus Kamile here has uprooted her entire life and moved to a new country.”

“Saving this marriage is going to take considerable effort on both sides in order to restore the balance you had before you said your vows. Here is what I recommend.”

Yeojin challenges the young couple to separate themselves from their daily lives for the next week and go somewhere remote. A place where it’s just the two of them without any outside influences. Of course, this won’t be just some run of the mill vacation. They’ll have “homework” of sorts that Yeojin will be checking to make sure they complete. Mingyu is all for it but Kamile is much more hesitant. All they’ve done is argue for the past few months and she’d rather not be stuck in a house arguing for two weeks straight. 

“I’ve spent the past year stuck in a house with no outside influences and look at where that’s gotten me. On the verge of a fucking divorce!” Mingyu looks like he has something to say, but Yeojin thankfully stops him before he can rile his wife up any more than she already is. 

“You’re not just going to be ‘stuck in a house’. Think of it like a game of Among Us. The two of you are crewmates and this wall that’s been built between you is the imposter.” Kamile looks at Yeojin as if she’s grown three extra heads. There’s no way she just related this counseling session to a freaking video game. 

“I will also stop bugging you about grandkids for six months if you go.” 

“You should’ve just started there. I’ll go.”

Yeojin claps her hands excitedly. She sounds way too happy to be shipping them off to self-guided marriage boot camp, but Kamile stays silent though that becomes increasingly difficult as her mother’s friends lists out the “tasks” she expects them to complete.

“So here’s the game plan, I want you two to be totally and completely honest with each other as much as possible for the entire time you’re gone. Often times in relationships, both parties will censor themselves as a way to keep the peace but that can be detrimental as it has been for you guys.” Mingyu and Kamile don’t realize it but they both frown simultaneously at the proposal of this honesty idea. Yeojin takes it as a positive sign that they are still in sync on some level. 

“If the thought of doing it all day is too daunting, then start with just one hour. This doesn’t mean that you have to sit and stare at each other for a whole hour and trade statements just act normally but speak honestly. Okay so far?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Mingyu casts a glance in Kamile’s direction, fingers twitching with the urge to reach out to her. He’s had to stop himself several times since she arrived and it’s not getting any easier.

While Kamile’s mind is running wild with all of the potential for disaster that an hour of honesty could result in, Yeojin powers on with the rest of her required tasks. On top of separating themselves from society and this so called honest hour, Yeojin has mandated that they share at least one meal together every day with one of them being dinner on their wedding anniversary. Just when Kamile thought that Yeojin couldn’t possibly pile more on, she brings up the “activity days”. Each of them will have to plan some sort of activity for the two of them to do together while they’re away. It could be as big or as small as they want, but it has to be meaningful. Mingyu draws Kamile’s attention when he pulls his phone out of his back pocket to start tapping away on the screen like a mad man.

“You guys have a lot of preparing to do in order to be ready to leave tomorrow so we’ll stop here for today. I’ll be checking in on you daily to assess your progress and offer any guidance you may need.” 

Kamile is out of her chair and halfway to the door before anyone can blink. The room suddenly feels too small as the gravity of what’s about to happen sinks in. She’d convinced herself that she no longer wanted to be married to Mingyu. She was so sure that her run as Mrs. Kim, albeit short as it was, had come to an end, but now she’s been confronted that her main reason for ending things was baseless. This is not how she thought things would go.

Day 1

The drive from the hotel to the home she’s shared with Mingyu for the past year goes way too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu had texted her about having to go gas up the rental car so he’s nowhere to be seen when Kamile arrives. She sits in the driveway for a few minutes thinking of the memories saturated into the home that looms before her. The memories she had hoped to create. A stray tear slips down her cheek and she swipes at it furiously. She swore that she was done shedding tears over this but they just keep on coming.

Her pity party is interrupted by an unfamiliar SUV pulling into the driveway behind her. Kamile looks in the mirror to see Mingyu getting out of the driver’s seat. She does her best to erase the evidence of her tears, but the look on his face when she opens her own door says that she wasn’t very successful. 

“Are you-”

“I’m fine.” Kamile cuts him off before he can even finish his question. She stalks to the back of her car to start transferring her bags from her car to the behemoth of an SUV behind her.

“I’ll get them.” Mingyu takes the bag she’d already grabbed from Kamile’s hands, motioning to the passenger’s seat. Kamile, no longer in the mood to speak, wordlessly follows his directive and climbs into the SUV.

It takes Mingyu no time at all to load Kamile’s bags into the back with his own. 

“Obviously this is a sign that we should just leave.”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m not about to let a lost set of keys stand between me and keeping my marriage.”

“Why do you even care? Why are we even doing this?” Kamile screams. She’s been holding this in for far too long and she can’t take it anymore. 

“For better or for worse.” Mingyu’s face is a mask of carefully controlled fury and it’s giving Kamile pause. She’s never seen him like this before. “We promised each other for better or for worse and yet you’re ready to run for the hills at the first sign of trouble. I’ll admit that I’m not perfect and certainly played a role in why we’re here but I’m willing to put in the work to make it better because those vows meant something to me. I thought they meant something to you too.”

Kamile is incredibly taken aback at Mingyu’s fervent desire to stay married. She didn’t think that he cared that much anymore. Without any further protest, she joins him in the hunt for the elusive key to the front door. Fifteen minutes pass and they are no closer to gaining entry than they were when they first arrived. A rep with the rental company calls as they’re checking the bottom of the flower pots that line the front porch and tells them that the keys were mistakenly put in the mailbox. The same mailbox that sits at the end of the mile long driveway. Kamile makes to get back in the car to drive to the end of the driveway but Mingyu suggests walking it.

“It would be faster in the car.”

“You heard that therapist lady. We’re supposed to be spending time together. What better way to do it than by walking two miles?” Kamile walks back and forth as she considers her options. She can resist which will probably lead to yet another fight or she can just suck it up and walk to the mailbox. With a groan, she makes her decision.

“Fine, but if I get tired you’re carrying me.”

“Anything for you, my lady.” He bows deeply which almost makes Kamile crack a smile. She steels her resolve quickly though and reminds herself not to get caught up in his antics. He’s going to have to do a lot more than make her laugh in order to get out of the dog house.

The walk to the mailbox and back is quiet for the most part. Their footfalls join the hum of the wildlife in the woods that line the driveway on either side, but the jokes and playful jabs that used to fill the air between them is noticeably absent. Neither one is sure of what to say or do around the other anymore. Thankfully, the key is hanging on a hook inside the rather large mailbox.

Mingyu fully expected for Kamile to ask to be carried on the way back. She’s never been a huge fan of physical activity so it doesn’t come as a surprised to him when she starts whining halfway back to the cabin.

“I can’t do it just leave me here with my flower friends. I’ll become one with the forest.” Mingyu wordlessly moves to crouch down in front of her. He’s thankful that she can’t see his face to save himself the embarrassment of having to explain why he’s so excited to carry her for the last half mile to the end of the driveway.

Kamile doesn’t hesitate a single second to climb onto his back, clinging to him like a koala. It’s not lost on either one of them that this is the most physical contact they’ve had with each other in months. She’s wrapped around him tight enough that he doesn’t need to support her thighs, but he does it anyway. No way in hell is going to let this moment pass by without taking full advantage. 

They opt to spend the rest of the day just getting settled in. Yeojin had encouraged them to share a bedroom but Kamile is not down with that. Mingyu is disappointed when she wheels her suitcase into one of the guest bedrooms but he takes solace in the fact that she’s chosen the one right across the master where he’d dropped his things hoping she’d follow. He hopes that at some point in the next few days she’ll finally share a bed with him again. 

Dinner ends up being Thai takeout. Kamile has to admit that she’s impressed when Mingyu is able to rattle off her usual order with practiced ease. There once was a time when they’d get Thai food together all the time, but they’re so far removed from that time that she was sure he’d have forgotten by now. They eat without a single word exchanged before going their separate ways to bed.

Day 2

Mingyu wakes up before the sun despite the fact that he slept all of two hours the night before. His hands are on the verge of trembling from all of the nervous energy coursing through his body. Today is the official first day of marriage bootcamp and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s barely seven so there’s no way that Kamile has even attempted to get out of bed yet. Like a thief in the night, Mingyu creeps down the hall to peek into the bedroom that she had claimed as her own. A small smile graces his face at the cute way she hugs one of the throw pillows to her chest. It falters a little when his brain reminds him that she used to hug him close to her like that and not a pillow, but he shoves that depressing thought away for now. He has work to do.

The smell of bacon rouses Kamile from sleep, luring her down the stairs. She grunts a greeting at the man currently tending to a pan of scrambled eggs as she reaches for the stack of bacon on the counter to his left. Mingyu is quick to swat her hand away before she can secure her bounty.

“The eggs are almost done. Be patient.” Kamile whines at being chastised, scowling at the back of Mingyu’s head with disdain.

In the midst of her grumbling, she finally takes notice of his attire or the lack thereof. Saliva pools in her mouth at the sight of his muscles flexing as he cooks the eggs. Her gaze moves lower to his trim waist and the pair of gray sweatpants hanging from said waist in a way that has no business being as attractive as it is. Her fingers twitch with the urge to slide her hands beneath the waistband of those sweatpants to get at that prize she knows is there but she keeps them to herself.

“Earth to Kamile.” Mingyu chants as he waves a spatula in front of her face. She blinks rapidly, doing her best to clear the thick fog of arousal from her mind. The uncomfortable sensation of her panties sticking to her skin is quickly forgotten when Mingyu holds up a plate peeled high with bacon, eggs, and blueberry pancakes.

“Thanks, Gyu.” Kamile murmurs as she takes the proffered plate and heads for the table. She falters half a step when she realizes that she’s let his nickname slip. She prays that he didn’t notice and if he did, she prays he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Gyu? Haven’t heard that one in a while.” Looks like that prayer went unanswered. The shit eating grin on Mingyu’s face makes her itch. 

“I’m hungry and thankful. Don’t push it.” 

They eat in silence. The only sounds are their forks as they make contact with their plates.  Mingyu is kicking himself in the ass for not saying anything but his brain is short circuiting. Thankfully, the buzzing from the intercom by the front door signaling that someone is at the front gate. It’s the special grocery delivery he’d requested for the first of their planned activity days. 

“What’s all this for?” Kamile asks curiously. She pokes through a few of the bags to see fresh strawberries and a variety of other fruits along with a very large bag of rice cakes.

“I was thinking we could have a picnic today for our first planned activity.” His heart races as he waits for Kamile’s reaction to his idea. She munches on a piece of bacon as she continues to pull things out of bags.

“I dig it.” Mingyu feels weak with relief at his idea being well-received. “Why so many rice cakes though?”

“You’ve been a tteokbeokki fiend since we met. Didn’t see the point in depriving you while we’re here if I could just make it for you.” Kamile groans at the thought. She’s more than capable of feeding her own addiction with the spicy rice cake dish, but she’s never been able to make it as good as Mingyu. Despite the fact that she just ate, she contemplating requesting that he make a batch of it right now.

Mingyu grabs a knife to start chopping up some of the fruit. Kamile takes a seat at the island across from him, propping her chin in her hand as she watches him work. She’s always loved watching him cook almost as much as eating the food he makes. She can’t even remember the last time that she was able to do this. It feels like a lifetime ago. Her eyes with sparkle with fascination watching him prepare the food for their picnic. 

“Open up.” Mingyu holds a strawberry up to her lips and Kamile opens her mouth without hesitation. The berry is perfectly ripe and so juicy that a stream of it runs down her chin. Mingyu reaches out to swipe it away, licking the liquid from his thumb. 

“Tasty.” Kamile squirms in her seat at the way his lips wrap around his thumb. Time for her to make an escape before she does something crazy like fuck her husband in someone else’s kitchen. 

Mingyu watches Kamile hastily retreat with barely concealed glee. He’d thought that she’d stopped being attracted to him, but that is incorrect if the results of the little experiment he’d decided to conduct are to be believed. He smiles to himself as he continues cutting up fruit. There might be hope for them yet.

After agonizing longer than he should have over the best spot to set up their little picnic, Mingyu finally picks a spot. He’s so focused on how best to arrange everything on the blanket that he doesn’t even notice Kamile creeping up behind him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when she clears her throat much to Kamile’s amusement.

“Did I scare you?” It’s clear to her that she did, but making him admit it is too good for her to pass up. 

“No…maybe.” Kamile hums in response, kneeling across from him on the blanket. “That dress is really pretty on you.”

“Thank you.” She mumbles in response. It’s been so long since she’s heard any sort of praise or compliment from Mingyu that she doesn’t even know how to respond anymore. It almost feels brand new. 

Eager to rid herself of the awkwardness blooming in her chest, Kamile grabs a fork and shoves what she thinks is a potato straight in her mouth. In her haste, she fails to realize that the potato she thought she had is actually an onion. Mingyu doubles over with laughter at the pure disgust painted across Kamile’s face. She desperately wants to spit it out but she was raised to believe that spitting out perfectly good food is only a half step below a sin so she powers through. She chugs one of the glasses of fresh squeezed lemonade on the small tray to her right as Mingyu continues to cackle at her plight. 

“You set me up for failure.” Kamile has hated onions from the womb according to the stories her mother told about the smell of onions making her nauseous for her entire pregnancy. Mingyu must pay for this. 

“I purposely cut them big enough for you to easily pick them out. You weren’t supposed to eat them.” Mingyu defends himself breathily as he tries desperately to stop laughing. Kamile reaches out to punch him in the arm which only serves to make him laugh harder.

Silence falls over them again although, unlike breakfast this morning, they’re able to exchange some small talk here and there. The awkwardness that they’d started off with wanes and wanes until they’re left comfortably enjoying each other’s presence for the first time in a long time. 

Mingyu finds himself unable to take his eyes off of Kamile. He’d meant it when he’d said that the yellow sundress she’s wearing looked pretty on her. It compliments the rich mahogany of her skin as if it was made especially for her. The plethora of curls that he’s always loved are full of life as she bobs her head side to side, one of her many habits that Mingyu has always adored. His chest feels tight with the weight of his love for her. He can’t believe that he nearly let her slip away.

“You’re staring, Mingyu.” Kamile says between bites of the strawberry she’d grabbed. Mingyu opens his mouth to answer when a distant rumble beats him to the punch. 

“Oh shit.” 

The two of them hastily toss the near empty dishes back into the picnic basket. Dark clouds are steadily rolling in with the speed of a bullet train. Just when they think they might be able to make it back into the house, their luck runs out. The rain comes down in sheets, drenching them in seconds. Kamile is so thankful that the lack of pockets on her dress lead to her choosing to leave her phone inside.

Kamile is the worst mood when they finally reach the safety of the house. She just went through the stress and physical exhaustion of wash day two days ago and now she has to do it all over again five days ahead of schedule. 

“Did you not check the fucking weather before you decided to turn us into sitting ducks outside?” She seethes. Mingyu arches a brow in confusion at her sudden mood swing.

“Of course I did. It was supposed to be nothing but sunshine all week.”

“Well, clearly that was a lie but I’ve grown to accept that from you. Now I’ve got to go suffer through wash day ahead of schedule.” Mingyu winces at her words, but he’s nothing if not an opportunist so he chooses to ignore it in favor of jumping on the more important statement Kamile just made. 

“Can I help you with your hair?” He asks as he follows his grumpy wife up the staircase. She pauses outside her room to fix him with a glare.

“Absolutely not.”

“Why? I’ve always helped you with your hair.” In his mind, this isn’t a huge request. The Kamile he knew used to be only too happy to allow him to hand over her hair products for him to do her extensive wash day routine for her. He’d actually gotten so good at it that he’d even started doing her younger sisters’ hair whenever he was in the states to visit.

“I barely know who you are anymore and you expect me to let you touch my hair? Not a chance in hell.” Kamile’s voice climbs in volume until she’s practically yelling. 

The last thing Mingyu wants to do today is fight, but enough is enough. Their screams echo through the spacious house as they go back and forth over Kamile’s mistrust of Mingyu. He doesn’t get it and she thinks it’s incredibly shocking that he doesn’t. Kamile’s phone rings somewhere in the bedroom she has yet to enter, effectively interrupting their spat. She leaves Mingyu in the hallway in favor of answering it and groans out loud when she sees that it’s a FaceTime call from Yeojin. She’d forgotten all about the daily check-ins that the therapist had mentioned she’d be conducting. She goes back out to the hallway and drags Mingyu with her to the staircase so they can get this call over with without ruining the carpet in her room. 

“Hello, love birds! How’s everything going?” Yeojin chirps once the call connects. Her hopeful smile falters slightly when she sees the sour looks on her clients’ faces.

Mingyu is only too happy to give the attentive marriage counselor a full rundown of what was happening before she called. Kamile scowls at him the entire time. To hear him tell it, she’s the bad guy but anyone with common sense would’ve left her alone after she’d made it perfectly clear that she was not in the mood to have a conversation. She can’t wait for Yeojin to drag him therapeutically for not picking up on that. 

“Kamile, what do you think lead to you lashing out like that? The rain was not his fault.” The woman in question is thrown off when the outcome she was expecting doesn’t come to fruition.

“He should’ve checked the weather before deciding to have a picnic outside but that’s neither here nor there. I feel like I made it very clear that I didn’t want to talk to him and yet he kept pressing the issue.” Kamile can’t believe that she has to defend herself. Mingyu is so hasty with responding that it sounds like a keyboard smash is coming out of his mouth.

“I would like to make it known that I did not say one word to you when we came back inside until you started yelling at me.” He looks incredibly smug as he watches Kamile’s mouth open and close as she tries to think of a way to refute his statement. “I would also like to make it known that I have been obsessive about every detail of this picnic and I would have never had it outside if there was even a slight chance that it might rain. Maybe if you had a little more faith in me you could see that.”

“And that brings me to my next point.” Yeojin begins. “We’ve established that the infidelity was a myth, so why do you continue to hold on to that mistrust, Kamile? I want you to really think about it and be completely honest with both us and yourself. I’m not saying that whatever you’re feeling is wrong because you are entitled to feel that way but I think it would be good for the both of you if why you feel that way is better understood.”

The theme of the day continues to be silence as Kamile ponders the question put before her. She’s mature enough to admit that not trusting Mingyu while also admitting that she believes him when he says that he didn’t cheat is contradictory. The root of that contradiction is something she’s been trying to avoid ever since she got roped into that surprise therapy session. Mingyu’s alleged infidelity had been her out. Her escape. She had cut and run on the back of a false truth and that reality is something that’s been hard for her to process. Tears well up in Kamile's eyes as she thinks back to Mingyu’s rant about their wedding vows when they’d first arrived. She’d thought that everything was his fault and being forced to face the truth is difficult. Mingyu’s harsh glare softens as he reaches out to wipe the tears from her face as they start to fall. He sighs when she pulls away from him.

“I can see that I’ve found a sore spot so I won’t press this any further today. We’ll revisit this in the future.” Yeojin gives them some tips on how to better communicate before she ends the call.

Kamile is only too happy to end the call so she can lock herself in her room. She doesn’t even come back out for dinner despite Mingyu all but begging outside of her door. He’s not sure what mental dots she connected when they were talking to Yeojin, but whatever it was seems to have upset her more than he’d originally thought.

A weather alert comes through on Mingyu’s phone as he watches TV downstairs. Apparently the storm that had snuck up on them earlier is part of a much larger system of severe weather that changed course and is expected to hang around the area for the next day or two. His first thought is Kamile. She’s terrified of thunderstorms. Always has been. 

He thinks back to a time before they started dating when Kamile was just Vernon’s pretty American friend that he had a huge crush on. She had come to Korea to visit and insisted on sleeping on the couch despite the fact that everyone tried to give up their room for her. Much like today, a nasty storm rolled in and in her panicked state she had accidentally ended up in his room instead of Vernon’s. The realization had been comical and she’d tried to leave to go to the right room, but a sudden clap of thunder that seemed to shake the whole building sent her diving into his arms where she stayed for the rest of the night. She slept through a thunderstorm for the first time in her life that night. A selfish part of him hopes that this storm brings him the same luck he had all those years ago.

Day 3

Heavy rain beats against the window like a prize fighter while thunder rattles Kamile’s brain until she feels like screaming. There aren’t many things that strike true fear in her heart, but thunderstorms are definitely somewhere in the top five things on that list. She’s got her headphones in and her music blasting, but it does very little to drown out the war going on outside. She rips the blankets from her body and makes for the bedroom door to go get in bed with Mingyu but like the fifty other times she’s attempted to do that she stops herself in the hallway. The door shuts with a soft click as she seals herself back in her own personal hell. 

Kamile jolts awake not even aware of when she had even managed to fall asleep. Sweat has glued her clothes to her skin and it’s making her skin crawl the longer she lays there. She groans aloud when she hears the rain still beating against the window pane. The alarm clock on the nightstand says that it’s just barely six in the morning which means it’s been exactly one hour since she apparently passed out from exhaustion. A rumble off in the distance lets her know that she probably won’t be getting more sleep any time soon so she drags herself to the bathroom for a shower. 

Freshly showered and in desperate need of caffeine, Kamile makes for the kitchen. Mingyu’s bare back comes into view for the second consecutive morning when she rounds the corner. His hair is sticking up in odd directions and he looks to be five seconds from falling asleep standing up as he stabs at the buttons on the coffee maker.

“Why are you up so early?”

“You need coffee.” He replies with a yawn.

“Yeah, but I can make it myself. You didn’t need to lose sleep to make me coffee.” She protests. Mingyu turns to glare at her until Kamile raises her hands in surrender.

“If you’re up, I’m up.” Kamile shakes her head at him as she pulls two mugs out of the cabinet. No sense in arguing with him when he’s clearly made up his mind about suffering.

The two of them sit in silence side by side, sipping their coffee, and staring out the window watching Mother Nature do her thing. Out of habit, Kamile leans over to rest her head on MIngyu’s shoulder. She stiffens when she realizes what she’s doing. Mingyu holds his breath. Scared that if he makes any sudden movements the bubble will burst and she’ll move away from him. She surprises the both of them when she lets the tension drain from her shoulders instead, relaxing into him.

“I’m sorry.” Kamile whispers into the void. If Mingyu wasn’t so acutely focused on her every move, he probably wouldn’t have even heard it over the wind. 

“Me too.” He turns his head to softly kiss the top of her head, taking a moment to inhale the familiar scent of her hair products. He never knew it was possible to miss a singular smell so much.

They’ve exchanged exactly four words since they sat down at the table, but they mean so much. There’s a near palpable shift in the air. Like a switch has flipped. An unspoken truce between them that they are in this together. Kamile lifts her head to finish her coffee and Mingyu immediately misses the weight of her head on his shoulder.

“Did you ever finish watching The Originals?” Kamile asks before downing the last of her coffee.

“No, it was kind of our thing so I haven’t watched it since we stopped watching it together.” She hums in response.

“Well, it looks like we’re going to be stuck in this house all day so we may as well pick up where we left off.” Mingyu nearly chokes on his coffee. He can’t even remember the last time Kamile willingly suggested that they spend time together. He pinches himself to make sure he’s not dreaming which she rolls her eyes at. 

“Come on. You’re in charge of snacks.”

For the next eight hours, their butts are glued to the couch. They only get up to use the bathroom and replenish their snack pile. They’ve spent so much of their time arguing that Kamile had forgotten how much she loved just being with Mingyu. Klaus is about to rain down hellfire on some of his enemies when Mingyu’s phone vibrates in the pocket of his sweatpants. Kamile can feel it against her own thigh and it’s only then that she realizes the way that they’ve gravitated towards each other over the course of the day. If she were to get any closer to him, she’d be sitting in his lap. Mingyu had intended to ignore the call, thinking it might be someone from the company despite his strict instructions not to contact him, but he answers it instead when he sees that it’s Yeojin. 

“Well don’t you two look cozy. I was planning to pick up where we left off yesterday, but I’d rather talk about this first.” Yeojin looks entirely too smug as she brings attention to the lack of space between the two of them. Mingyu half expects Kamile to scoot away from him now that it’s been pointed out just how close they are, but she stays put. 

“Can’t a girl just sit next to her husband without being questioned to death?” Kamile asks playfully. Yeojin chuckles and moves on with their daily check in. 

“Fine, fine I’ll leave it alone. Let’s get down to business. Mingyu we didn’t get to hear from you a lot yesterday so I’d like to get into how you felt when Kamile left. What was that like for you?” Yeojin rests her chin on her hand as she waits to see what’s going to come out of the box of emotions she just opened. 

Mingyu briefly realizes that this is the first time he’s talked about that day to anyone as he recounts that dark morning like the nightmare it was. Kamile listens in stunned silence while he tells his story. After seeing the bags under his eyes at Yeojin’s house, she’d figured that he’d suffered just like she had, but she’d never imagined that waking up to find her rings and the note she’d left had affected him to the extent that it did. The guilt that’s been festering in her gut increases tenfold at the thought of him heaving into the toilet.

“I knew things weren’t the greatest but I truly did believe that we were strong enough to get through whatever. Divorce never crossed my mind even once so it killed me to know that it had not only crossed her mind but became a viable option that she ran with. I get why she thought that was the best option now, but then it felt like I’d been blindsided.” Mingyu explains. His words are laced with the hurt that he’s been keeping to himself. Kamile picks at the words screen printed down one of the legs of her sweatpants wishing that a hold would open beneath her and swallow her up. She’s never felt so low.

“Kamile, I see you’re getting emotional. What are you feeling right now?” Yeojin gently pries. Mingyu pulls Kamile into him as his own emotions start getting the better of him. Yeojin is pleased to note that, unlike yesterday, Kamile doesn’t snatch away from him. 

“I was so focused on how unhappy I was that I didn’t consider anything else. It was all about me, me, me.” Kamile stares off into space as she opens up. She’s never talked about this with anyone but her best friends. In hindsight, they might not be sitting where they are right if she’d just talked to Mingyu about it ages ago but then again hindsight is always 20/20. “I visited Korea plenty of times when we were dating, but living here as the black wife of an idol has been so hard. Being from America, I’m used to people treating me different because of my skin color but when people feel entitled to be so invasive about it because of who I’m married to…it’s different.”

Mingyu’s jaw is on the floor as he listens to the struggles that his wife was having right under his nose and he never knew. He noticed that she’d become more withdrawn and hostile but he could never figure out why and she wouldn’t tell him when he asked. It comes as no surprise to him now that she stopped going outside. He can’t exactly blame her. Seventeen is going on their eighth year so Mingyu is a seasoned veteran at ignoring the things people say on the internet. Unfortunately, Kamile didn’t have that luxury. His stomach turns at the tales of her being approached on the street by people who wrongly called themselves fans thinking they were protecting him. The racist comments made about her online. She was suffering and he just let it go on thinking that she was just being moody.

“Do you think that caused you to develop a little resentment for Mingyu and his idol status?” 

Kamile’s first instinct is to say no, but given that they are supposed to be as honest possible she tamps down the lie before it can slip out. She did resent that she’d fallen for someone with such great public notoriety sometimes. It was different when she was just one of Vernon’s childhood friends. The general public didn’t really care what she did from day to day, but now one wrong move turns her into a trending topic and she doesn’t know how to handle it. There are days that she wishes that Mingyu was just a normal person, but then they would have never met and that’s not a reality she truly wants to live in despite her feelings towards him when she walked out. 

“Maybe a little bit but I know we’d have never met if he wasn’t Mingyu from Seventeen so it’s pointless really.” 

They talk with Yeojin a little while longer before she has to go to her next appointment. The air between them is heavy with the weight of the secrets that have come to light. It’s a stifling atmosphere and it’s beginning to drive Kamile insane. She reaches for the remote to restart their show, but Mingyu takes it from her.

“Why didn’t you tell me what was going on?” His eyes are misty as he struggles to hold himself back from crying once more. He could kick himself for not doing his best to shield her from the people that had killed her spirit.

“You’re already so busy and the last thing I wanted to do was add to everything else on your plate.” Mingyu wants to scream. She means more to him than being an idol. She always has. He cups her face in his hands, pressing his forehead to hers. 

“Promise me that you won’t hold stuff inside like that anymore and I promise to be better at not letting you. Deal?”

“Deal.” Kamile’s eyes flutter closed as Mingyu pulls away to press his lips to her forehead. 

He clears his throat before grabbing the remote to resume their show. For the next few hours, conversation is limited to the messy lives of the supernatural beings on the screen before them. The wind still howls. The rain is unceasing. Yet in the little bubble of Netflix and snacks that they’ve created, it may as well not even exist. 

Until bedtime that is.

“You know,” Mingyu says as they file up the stairs. The seemingly ever present bad weather still continues, “…you don’t have to sleep alone. I know you don’t like storms.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” It would be so easy to take him up on his offer. She could finally get some sleep, but for whatever reason she can’t bring herself to do it.

“Well you know where I am if you change your mind. Good night, Kamile.”

“Good night, Mingyu.”

Kamile stares at the ceiling in despair. She didn’t think it was possible for the storm to get worse but apparently Mother Nature took that as a challenge. She’s starting to genuinely concerned about whether or not the window by her bed can withstand the force of the weather it’s being forced to deal with. Kamile contemplates running to Mingyu’s room but shuts that idea down for the millionth time. Things feel...different between them after today’s call with Yeojin but she’s not sure if they’ve been different enough to justify hopping into bed with him quite yet. 

“This is fine. I don’t need to sleep.” She whispers into the void. 

She’s accepted her fate and made peace with it. Or at least that’s what she thought she’d done. A crack of lighting illuminates the room despite the blackout curtains over the window followed by a thunderous boom so loud it seems to vibrate her very being. Kamile is across the hall before she even has the time to process what she’s doing. Mingyu is out cold when she bursts into the room. Her brain chooses that moment to catch up to what she’s doing and flips on the switch of self-consciousness. Another loud boom has her throwing caution to the wind once more, sliding beneath the blanket to get as close to him as possible without waking him up. 

Kamile lays next to him a trembling anxious mess as the storm rages on. She’s so consumed by her own fear that she doesn’t even notice the man next to her has roused from sleep until he’s wrapped both of his arms around her to pull her into his warm chest. It’s as if the environmental warfare outside ceases to exist the second Kamile’s cheek makes contact with Mingyu’s skin. His presence drowns everything out just like it did all those years ago. The sleep that had been evading her comes quickly in his embrace. 

Day 4

A ray of sunlight shines perfectly through a crack in the curtain to hit Kamile square in the face. She squirms around trying to escape it and gets a frustrated groan in response. It’s then that she registers the weight of the arm that rests loosely across her midsection. The memory of running to Mingyu’s bed in the middle of the night comes rushing back to her. Her first instinct is to bolt, but she’s so touch starved that she finds herself turning in his hold in a bid to get closer. 

“Good morning.” Mingyu grunts something in response that she’s sure he thought sounded like good morning.

He slots one of his legs between hers and unintentionally allows her to feel the morning wood barely contained by his boxer briefs. Mingyu’s even breathing indicates that he’s fallen back asleep. Kamile would love to do the same but all of her attention is laser focused on the hardened appendage intimately pressed against her upper thigh. A damp spot has already started forming in her panties. She needs to get out of this bed now. Kamile squirms and wiggles around trying to get away, but it would seem that her efforts are having the opposite effect. A throaty groan slips from Mingyu’s lips.

“Stop moving.” He mumbles still half asleep. Kamile does her best to stop fidgeting and focus her attention elsewhere, but it’s not working. Her inner muscles clench around nothing as thoughts of what Mingyu could do to her dance dangerously through her mind. 

“I have to pee.” Mingyu cracks one eye open. It doesn’t take a genius to tell that he doesn’t believe her for a second but he releases her anyway. He sighs as he watches her run off to the en suite bathroom. 

Mingyu is noticeably absent when Kamile emerges from the bathroom fresh off a rushed orgasm though hardly sated. She follows the scent of coffee downstairs to find Mingyu bent over digging through one of the crisper drawers in the refrigerator. Back before everything went to shit she would’ve slapped his ass with glee and run away before he could exact his revenge. Good times.

“Did you hear what I said?” Kamile was so focused on his ass that she hadn’t even registered the fact that Mingyu had said anything.

“Huh?”

“I said do you want to get in the hot tub later since we can go outside now?” He repeats as he hands over a cup of coffee already milky and sweet the way she likes it.

“It’s almost 80 degrees outside and you want to get in a hot tub?” She questions slowly to which Mingyu responds with an emphatic yes. “Be honest. Are you just trying to see me in a bikini?”

“Absolutely.” He giggles when Kamile reaches out to smack him on the arm. “Why are you attacking me? Yeojin said we have to be honest at all times.” 

“I don’t think that included being a horny little shit.”

“I’m a man with eyes and a hot wife. I can’t help.” Despite the compliment, Kamile’s mood sours at his words. Mingyu’s freshly honed observation skills picks up on it immediately.

“Uh oh, did I say something wrong?”

“If I’m so hot, then why haven’t we had sex in four months? We used to go at it like rabbits and then one day you just stopped initiating things.” 

Mingyu is quick to point out that he did try to have sex with her plenty of times, but she pushed him away. Eventually, he gave up. It’s almost funny when the dots start connecting in her head. Her personal struggles had originally been why she denied him sex, but then he’d started coming home doused in perfume so she really didn’t want anything to do with him then. Mingyu has never been a very pushy person so he figured he’d just wait her out. He didn’t think that he’d end up in a four month dry spell (and counting), but he was also not about to look for satisfaction outside of his marriage either. 

“How about we save this sex talk until after I’m finished cooking? All of the blood in my body is rushing south and these rice cakes are starting to look like nipples.” Kamile nearly chokes on the water she’d just taken a sip of. Tears pour from her eyes as her body can’t decide if it wants to laugh or die of asphyxiation. 

“Woah, woah! When we said till death do us part I was hoping we’d be farting dust not barely 26.” Kamile is sure that he wants her dead now as her internal war between laughing and choking only gets worse. 

Despite her earlier protests, Kamile finds herself seated across from Mingyu in the hot tub later that evening as they watch the sun set. She fully expects him to try something from the way his eyes keep drifting south to stare at her chest, but he’s on his best behavior the entire time. 

Day 5

“Hello, love birds! I missed you two yesterday. What happened?” Yeojin looks hesitant almost as if she’s scared of their answer. She looks downright relieved to hear that they missed her call because they fell asleep cuddling on the couch. After getting a run down of everything that’s happened since they last spoke, she encourages them to continue sleeping in the same bed together. 

“Couples often downplay the amount of good that just being physically close to your partner can be. If you’re both comfortable sleeping next to each other without a thunderstorm being the driving force, please keep doing it.” Yeojin pleads before ending the call to go to her next appointment. 

Her words hang in the air even after she’s gone. Mingyu looks over at Kamile with a questioning look on his face. It’s clear that he’s after her opinion on this whole shared bed situation, but Kamile doesn’t have much to say on the matter. The two of them have been pretty much inseparable during the day now, but she’s still nervous about sleeping in the same bed together and she doesn’t know how to shake that feeling. She was too scared to think about it last night but without the weather to distract her she’s not so sure if sit’s a good idea.

“What’s going on in there?” Mingyu taps a finger against Kamile’s temple to get her attention. She shakes her head but he’s got a feeling it’s about what Yeojin’s bed sharing idea.

“If this is about sharing a bed, don’t worry about. You’ve got the rest of the day to decide.” She nods in acknowledgement of his point but Mingyu can tell that the gears in her head are turning even faster than before. Her overthinking is going to give her a headache.

Night time comes entirely too quickly for Kamile’s liking. Mingyu has kept her so busy that she hasn’t had the time to sit down to sort through her thoughts. Knowing him, he probably did that on purpose. He always hated her habit of overthinking everything, preferring to live in the moment and make decisions as they arose. Kamile has never had much success doing that which is why they work so well together. He balances her out and helps her weed out the important aspects of the topic at hand to make faster decisions. 

Her mind is racing as they climb the stairs on their way to bed. Mingyu stops at the door to his bedroom and looks at her with such hope on his face that she almost feels guilty for what she’s about to say. His face falls when Kamile tells him that she thinks it’s better for them to sleep in their own respective rooms tonight. Mingyu is a good sport about it, bidding her good night with a lingering kiss to her forehead. 

Falling asleep has never been a problem for Mingyu which is why he’s utterly confused when he’s still wide awake three hours after getting into bed. He’s in danger of pulling the sheets off of the mattress on one side from how much he’s been tossing and turning. 

This is bullshit. I’ve been sleeping fine every night. What’s the difference now?

Mingyu sits up to fluff his pillows. It doesn’t help. He kicks the ceiling fan up a notch. That doesn’t help either. He counts sheep, ducks, and even cows, but nothing is working. The longer he tries to avoid the obvious the more awake he seems to be. Sleeping in the guest room most nights to avoid arguing had taught him to sleep alone. Now that he knows what it’s like to hold her again, he’s ruined. He wonders briefly if Kamile is awake too. Is she just as restless too? 

He tosses and turns for the better part of another hour. The clock on his phone says that 3 a.m is quickly approaching and Mingyu caves. It takes less than ten seconds to cross the hall to her room, but practicing his explanation as to why he’s in her room at ass o’clock in the morning takes much longer. He knocks twice and pokes his head in.

“Kam?”

“You can’t sleep either, huh?” She asks without even turning to look at the man poking his head into her bedroom. 

Mingyu nearly collapses from sheer relief when Kamile simply reaches behind herself to lift the blankets after he confirms that he’s been unable to fall asleep just like her. He wastes no time sliding in behind her. Before he can even get it out of his mouth to ask, Kamile reaches back to find his arm, pulling it across her waist. 

“Good night, Gyu.” Kamile whispers. Her words are slurred as if she’s already half asleep. Mingyu kisses her shoulder, letting his lips linger against her skin.

“Good night, Kam.”

Day 6

A feather light touch to her lower lip is what prompts Kamile to open her eyes long before she’s ready. She pulls back slightly once her vision clears and she realizes just how close Mingyu’s face is to her own. He even has the audacity to laugh at her surprise.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d wake up.” He’s not sure how long he’s been watching her sleep, but he’d do it for the rest of his days. The pesky organ in his chest skips a beat as he holds Kamile’s gaze like a lifeline. He mulls over his next words very carefully, preparing for a possible rejection just as he did when he came to her room in the middle of night. “Can I kiss you?”

“Please do.” She whispers into the inch of space that separates them. 

Mingyu closed the gap slowly as if he’s giving her time to change her mind. Kamile sighs when his lips finally touch hers. One of his hands comes up to untie the silk scarf tied protectively around her head so that he can bury his hand in the curls he’s always been obsessed with. He uses his grip on her to guide her head as he deepens the kiss. 

She rolls onto her back and pulls him with her so that his much larger frame nearly covers hers entirely. Mingyu lets his primal instincts take over. Too lost in the way her lips are moving against his own. A groan rattles his chest when she squirms beneath him until his hips are situated between her thighs. The thin fabric of their respective underwear are the only barriers separating his aching erection from the place she needs him most. He can’t resist the urge to grind himself against her. If his brain wasn’t so clouded in lust, he’d probably have the mental capacity to feel a little embarrassed at just how quickly he’s risen to full mast. Kamile is floating somewhere beyond cloud nine when Mingyu’s hand that had been cradling her head moves to lightly grip her throat instead while the other rhythmically squeezes and pushes at her ass in time with his thrusts. Her head is tipped back in ecstasy as he kisses along her jaw.

It takes a herculean effort that he wasn’t totally sure he was even capable of, but Mingyu separates himself from the panting woman in his arms. He rocks back on his heels and Kamile’s eyes are immediately drawn to the tantalizing bulge at the apex of his shapely thighs. She reaches for him but Mingyu grabs her wrist before she can get her hands on him. He lifts her hand to his lips, pressing kisses to the back of it.

“Trust me when I say that I would love nothing more than to ravage you right now but if I’m going to be inside you again, I want you to have my ring on your finger.” Kamile starts to speak but stops when Mingyu presses his index finger to her lips. He traces the outline of her kiss swollen lips almost as if he’s in a trance. “I don’t want you to make a decision that you’re not totally comfortable with just because you’re horny. I want you to really want it. I want you to really want us. Now get up so I can feed you.”

A vulgar comment about what she really wants him to feed her crosses Kamile’s mind as Mingyu playfully swats at her thighs to get her moving. She respects his resolve and keeps it to herself but only barely. 

“It’s super nice outside. Wanna go for a walk?” Kamile would actually rather stay inside and enjoy the comforts of the air-conditioning, but Mingyu looks so excited that she finds herself giving in. She disappears upstairs to put on her sneakers mentally kicking herself for being so whipped for the man waiting for her by the patio door.

Mingyu laces his fingers between Kamile’s

They happen across a small stream during their casual stroll around the property. Kamile stops to look at Mingyu to see if he’s on the same wavelength as her. 

“Let’s do it.” 

Their shoes are abandoned under a tree near the creek before running full speed into the water.  The cooler temperature of the water feels like heaven. Kamile squeals when Mingyu splashes her with water. Mingyu suddenly lifts her over his shoulder, using the hand that’s not holding on to her to splash Kamile with more water. She’s out of breath from laughing when he finally lets her down only to steal the rest of her breath away when he surprises her with a kiss. 

“What was that for?” She’s slightly dazed both from the lack of oxygen and the searing kiss he’s just laid on her.

“Because.” He smirks at her before swooping in for yet another kiss.

“And that one?”

“Because part two.” Kamile giggles at his corniness even though she does her best not to give him the satisfaction of knowing it gets to her. Mingyu’s smile somehow gets even bigger at the sound of her laughter. He digs his fingers into his sides to prolong her laughter for his own enjoyment. 

They spend a little longer frolicking around before finally heading back to the house to shower and start on dinner. Kamile unsuccessfully lobbies to shower together but Mingyu is adamant in his refusal. He’s positive that the self-control he exhibited earlier that morning used up all the restraint he could’ve ever hoped to have for the next six months. There’s no way he’d be able to deny her. He kisses her quickly before running off to his own bathroom. 

Mingyu is totally and completely in love. He absentmindedly pushes his food around with his fork as he listens to Kamile rant about the mistreatment and near erasure of some X-Men character named Darwin. He’s got absolutely no idea what she’s talking about but she’s so passionate about it that he can’t help being fascinated. 

“Darwin’s whole entire superpower was that he could adapt to anything and you mean to tell me that robots designed to adapt to and counteract the powers of mutants were built off of Mystique’s DNA? Absolutely not. I might be a little-” Her rant is cut short by her phone ringing on the kitchen counter where she’d left it. She grumbles about being interrupted as she gets up to go get it. It’s Yeojin. 

Kamile returns to the table with her phone, choosing to sit in Mingyu’s lap for their daily check-in. The marriage counselor should get a kick out of that one. Sure enough, their seating arrangement is the first thing that Yeojin comments on. They take turns updating her on everything that’s occurred since they last spoke with her though they leave out some of the more sordid details. 

“This is what I like to hear!” She exclaims with an excited clap of her hands. “It seems that everything is going well right now. Is there anything we haven’t talked about this week that one of you wants to go over? If not, I’m comfortable ending the call here.” They say their goodbyes after confirming that they feel like they’re in a good place right now. Yeojin makes them swear to call her the moment they think they need her but she doubts that she’ll be hearing from them  until their follow-up appointment in a few days. 

Kamile makes to get up to return to her own chair but Mingyu stops her. She shrugs and reaches across the table to grab her own bowl. He smiles to himself as she resumes the rant that she’d been in the middle of before Yeojin’s call. He still has no idea what she’s going on about but he’s content to just listen to her vent. 

Day 7

Anxiety twisting her gut into knots is what eventually pulls Kamile from the bliss of sleep. Mingyu’s side of the bed is empty and she’s thankful for that to a certain extent. She heads for the shower, taking extra care with everything she does until she realizes how cowardly it is to stall like this. Deciding against putting on actual clothes, Kamile opts to just pull on one of oversized hoodies.

“Good morning!” Mingyu leans over to kiss her sweetly before turning back to the pan he’s tending to on the stove. He’s been doing that a lot since yesterday. Just randomly stealing kisses like he’s making up for lost time. 

“Just so you don’t get freaked out when they show up, I’ve got a private chef coming to cook us dinner tonight.” Mingyu mentions as they sit down to eat breakfast. She’s pleasantly surprised that he’s put in so much thought into their anniversary even though he’s yet to directly mention the fact that today is their anniversary. 

Today is their last day in their little safe haven away from the world and the status of their marriage is still technically up in the air. They both know that a decision needs to be made before they leave in the morning, but neither of them has brought it up. It’s like they’ve been tip toeing around the giant elephant in the room and expecting for it to just disappear on its own. 

Other than Mingyu making tteokbeokki, extra spicy and extra cheesy just the way Kamile likes it, they don’t really do much throughout the day. A majority of their time is spent tangled in each other on the couch just talking. They reminisce on the days when they’d first started dating. Kamile nearly falls off of the couch in a fit of laughter at Mingyu’s spot on impression of Vernon’s face when he’d caught them sneaking a few kisses in the dorm kitchen one day. Each memory is sweeter than the last and Kamile is overcome with the urge to make more of those memories. Now that she’s been able to let go of the anger and misplaced resentment that had made her bitter, she actually has hope in that possibility.

The heels of the platform pumps she’d decided on for the night click with every step as Kamile slowly descends the staircase. She’s determined not to let her natural clumsiness send her to the hospital on such an important day. Mingyu holds his hand out to her when she reaches the last few steps. He looks every bit the international superstar that he’s known to be.

“You look absolutely stunning.” Warmth spreads across her face at the whispered compliment. She barely manages to return the favor. Kamile’s nerves are starting to get the better of her and she hopes and prays that there’s wine on the table so that she can drink them away.

Thankfully, Kamile notices a bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket next to the table when Mingyu leads her into the dim dining room. The dinner prepared by the chef looks delicious and she’s can’t wait to taste it but wine is her first priority if she expects to make it through dinner without bolting. Her first glass is tipped down her throat in record time much to Mingyu’s amusement. He refills without hesitation though she chooses to actually sip that one as intended.

Conversation flows easily between them as they eat. However, the topic that deserves their attention the most continues to stew on the back burner as they talk about literally anything else. As nervous as Kamile was when she first came downstairs, Mingyu is doubly so. He’s done his almighty best to convince Kamile that their marriage is worth saving without outright begging her. Based on the past few days, he’s incredibly hopeful that she’ll come back home with him tomorrow and stay there but she’s always been a wildcard. You never truly knew what move she was going to make until she made it. The small velvet box in his pocket feels like a stone. During a lull in the conversation, Mingyu makes his move.

“Kamile,” He reaches across the table to grab both of her hands, “Four years ago you agreed to be my girlfriend and I thought that surely that was the happiest day of my life but then you said yes to being my wife and I knew then that I was wrong. You’re the most precious part of my life and I was a fool for not making sure that you knew that every day for the last year.”

Mingyu pauses to get down on one knee next to Kamile, pulling the ring box from his pocket. Her ring is nestled in the tiny velvet box. It sparkles brilliantly even in the dim lighting. “Kamile Kim, will you do me the honor of staying my wife?” 

Tears well up in Kamile’s eyes as she nods her head yes. She’d made countless lists and weighed her options, but in that moment she throws all of that logic to the wind. At the end of the day, Mingyu is the one. He always has been and he always will be. She can’t believe that she almost threw everything away over her own assumptions and insecurities. Mingyu doesn’t hesitate to slide the piece of jewelry onto her trembling hand when she holds it out to him. He stands, pulling her with him so that he can kiss her senseless. 

“I’ve been waiting to say this until I knew where we stood but….happy anniversary, babe.”

“Happy anniversary, Gyu.” She whispers against his lips before kissing him deeply once more. “Now take me upstairs.”

“Your wish is my command, my lady.” 

[moonknightly]

mistakes and sour grapes : modern!poe dameron x reader (four)

Word Count: 2.3k

Excerpt: “What if you gave up a job you were actually enjoying, one that you were actually good at and it turned out to be for nothing? It was silly. Silly and stupid and foolish but God, you’d been a fool for those brown eyes since you first looked into them.”

Warnings: Mentions of sex but no smut, cursing, alcohol. That’s really it.

[SERIES MASTERLIST]

Honestly? You were beyond thankful to have the following day off from work. It gave you time to think, time to stew in your own emotions and thoughts and try to make sense of them. Really, you were struggling to make sense of the situation as a whole, the confusion and the mixed emotions only bleeding over into the next morning, causing you to question if this job was even really worth it. You were so close to calling out, a headache already starting to form behind your eyes as you thought about having to go in for your shift.

You didn’t even fully understand why you were struggling so hard. You both had been drinking, it should have been easy enough to just blame it on the alcohol that had been swirling through your veins, clouding your judgement and making you act on impulse. It should’ve been as simple as that, but you knew that there was more to it, that it ran deeper than that.

It was your stupid fucking crush on him that was making it so complicated, because you knew that even sober, you still would have jumped him had he shown even an ounce of interest in getting you out of your pants. You still would’ve kissed him and you still would’ve fucked him and he still probably would’ve ended the night on the same note and that was what frustrated you more than anything. Even without the vodka induced courage and bravery, you still would’ve given yourself to him and he still would’ve been a complete asshole afterwards.

Alcohol didn’t make a person act like that. That was all Poe, you were sure of it.

You also couldn’t help but feel like you were blowing it out of proportion, turning it into something that it wasn’t. Why should have you expected him to act any different? What were you even expecting? Flowers and chocolates and romance? It was only a stupid hookup. Just because you had feelings for him didn't mean he had to return them.

And not only that, but you didn’t feel like you knew him well enough to be so irritated and upset with him. It’s not like you were friends or anything. He was your boss and you were his employee and that was it. That was all it would ever be.

Though you weren’t sure how much longer that would even last.

You kept staring at the phone in your hand over and over and over again, trying to stave off the feeling of dread that pooled in the pit of your stomach at the single sentence staring back at you.

“We need to talk.”

Four words. Four simple, straightforward words, and they made your stomach completely sick with nerves.

A conversation with Poe was the absolute last thing you wanted to have, but of course you needed to talk. This wasn’t a situation that could just be ignored, no matter how much you wished you could just shove it underneath the pile of dirty laundry in your closet and bury it forever. You wished it could be as simple as that, you really did, because while you knew you both needed to sit down and at least acknowledge that yeah, something happened between the two of you, you were dreading having to look him in the eye.

Calling out really seemed like the better option.

But you found yourself walking into the bar a half hour before your shift, trudging up the stairs as your heart raced in your chest, anxiety overtaking your every thought, every feeling.

You were sure he was going to fire you. That had to be why he wanted to speak with you, right? He was going to fire you and you’d left things fairly shitty with your last job and who knew when you would find another. You’d lose your apartment, your car, everything. You were going to have to sell everything you owned just to be able to eat and-

And you were effectively pulled from your ridiculous train of thought by the sound of your name rolling off a familiar tongue.

“You alright?”

Poe was standing in the doorway of his office, looking like he had been just about to leave and run an errand or something, Bee’s orange vest strapped securely around her and her leash in his hand. You blinked, taking a moment to try and clear the thoughts from your head, actually shaking back and forth as if it were a trick that actually worked.

“M’fine.”

His brown eyes, those stupid brown eyes of his narrowed and you could tell that he didn’t believe your words for even a second. “You look like you’re gonna be sick.”

Did you? Maybe that would be enough to get you out of this conversation, enough for him to send you home for the night so you could stew some more, let your thoughts marinate for another twenty four hours.

But you knew that would only make everything worse. It would only cause you further confusion, make your anger grow into something nasty and ugly and caustic.

You still hated the fact that you were so angry and frustrated to begin with.

“Really, Poe, I’m fine,” you said, brushing past him into his office.

The familiar smell of cigarette smoke mingling with his cologne hit your nose as soon as you were near him, but there was something else thrown into the mixture. Maybe just a hint of mint and coffee — two scents you hadn’t noticed two nights before but now filled your senses completely.

He even smelled perfect. Damn him.

You shook your head, the action subtle enough that he didn’t catch it, and you took a seat on the old couch pressed against the wall, instantly regretting it, knowing you probably should have sat in one of the chairs facing his desk. It would have been the more professional approach.

And it would have kept some distance between you both.

Poe sat on the other end of the couch, hunched over with his hands folded in his lap as he refused to let himself relax back against the cushions like you were. All you could do was stare at him, wait for him to say something, anything to break the silence that was causing nothing but anxiety to bubble up in the pit of your stomach. Being near him had never felt so uncomfortable.

It was a few minutes later when he finally shifted, angling his body to face you, his back against the side of the couch. He ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath before exhaling. You watched as his chest rose and fell with his action, and you mentally cursed yourself for wanting to reach out and feel his skin move under the palm of your hand. You were being so ridiculous, giving yourself total whiplash and driving yourself mad. It needed to stop.

“If you’re going to fire me can you just like, do it now instead of letting it drag out?” you finally asked after realizing he still didn’t plan on saying anything.

He furrowed his eyebrows, dropping his hands away from his face so that he could actually look at you. Your stomach flipped again, and this time, you couldn’t tell if it was good or bad.

“Fire you? Why would I fire you?”

Your expression now mirrored his, your confusion evident. Recognition soon crossed his face however, and he started to hastily shake his head before you could say anything in response to his question.

“I’m not gonna fire you just because we had sex.” He sounded almost disappointed, almost wounded. Did you really think that little of him?

His tone only added to your irritation. “Can you really blame me for thinking that though?.”

A deep sigh left his lips, and he shrugged his shoulders, looking away from you again as he started to gnaw on his bottom lip. “I’m not that much of an asshole.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

Your words slipped past your lips before you even had a chance to think about them, and Poe scoffed, eyes hardening as he let his gaze flutter back to you. “I was going to apologize for being a dick the other night but now I’m not so sure I want to.”

It was your turn to sigh, and you let your head fall back and thump against the wall. You were quiet for a moment or two, the anger you had been feeling for the last two days seeming to just evaporate. At least he’d admitted that he’d been wrong in the way he acted. Maybe that was all that you needed.

“Honestly?” you mumbled, holding his eye contact as you shrugged your shoulders. “I don’t know what I was expecting, really. I mean, it would’ve been nice to hear that you’d enjoyed yourself or something.”

Poe couldn’t help but laugh, just a little bit, his expression softening significantly. “You were worried I didn’t enjoy myself?”

You shrugged again, nodding, and he only laughed again, his nose scrunching in the most adorable way that made you want to hit him just for being so fucking cute.

“Babe.” The petname just slipped out, and you could tell he didn’t even realize, didn’t even mean to use it. “Trust me. I’m almost positive I’ve never come that hard like, ever.”

“I don’t think I have either,” you admitted, averting your gaze, only a little embarrassed. Embarrassed wasn’t even the right word, it was more like you were just nervous, unsure of yourself. Unsure of where this was heading.

Poe was experiencing similar emotions apparently, because he merely sat there, staring at you for what had to be close to a full minute. He looked conflicted, like he was either choosing his words carefully or like he was just looking for the words period. It was the same expression that had been on his face as he stood between your thighs down in the basement, right before Bee had interrupted whatever small moment you had been having.

His voice was quiet when he finally did speak, his eyes maybe just a little sad but you couldn’t tell, the emotion fleeing them completely after only a second or two. “We can’t.”

Of course, you knew that. You knew there was nothing you could do about it, nowhere for it to go. It was wrong it was wrong it was wrong. You shouldn’t have had sex with him in the first place, you knew that. It would have been different had you just been two consenting adults looking for a quick fuck, it would have been different if he wasn’t your boss.

You hated that one little fact, that one little detail changed things entirely and marked the entire situation taboo, marked him off limits.

You also hated that you found yourself wanting to quit just so that, maybe, if he wanted to, you could try to continue your little escapade, maybe turn it into something more if he were at all interested. You weren’t even sure if that was something you were interested in.

Like you kept trying to tell yourself, you hardly knew a thing about the man. What if you gave up a job you were actually enjoying, one that you were actually good at and it turned out to be for nothing? It was silly. Silly and stupid and foolish but God, you’d been a fool for those brown eyes since you first looked into them.

You were pulled back to reality at the sound of his voice, one simple word rolling off his tongue though his tone was stern, making it feel more like a punch to the gut. “Don’t.”

You stayed quiet, simply blinking at him. Were you always that obvious and easy to read?

“If you keep daydreaming about something that’s not going to happen, you’re just gonna end up making yourself sick.”

He always had a way of making his words sting.

But you’d always known how to bite right back.

“I’m not daydreaming about anything. I don’t want you.”

You knew your words sounded harsh, and not only that but it was a blatant lie, but judging by the way his jaw clenched and how his nostrils started to flare, one that he believed.

“Fine. That makes things easy then.”

“I guess it does.”

Another round of silence, and when it was apparent that neither of you had anything left to say, you stood, ready to put as much distance as possible between you both even though you were working under the same roof.

Poe didn’t try to stop you, but you were near positive you heard him mutter a quick “fuck” under his breath as you walked out the door, and that might’ve been something slamming against his desk that followed but you couldn’t quite tell.

You just wanted to get your shift over with and get the hell home.

It would give you time to think, time to look at your options and seriously debate whether or not quitting was one of them. If giving up the first thing that made you genuinely happy was worth killing your crush on a man you couldn’t have.

You still couldn’t make sense of anything, still couldn’t understand. There were still so many unanswered questions and emotions you wanted to ignore, but the one thing you did realize?

Taking this job wasn’t the worst decision of your life, your biggest mistake, biggest regret.

But fucking Poe Dameron was.

[writingwithadinosaur]

“Under the Knife - Part 8

“Under the Knife” - Part 8

My Masterlist - Here

Story Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Hannibal Lecter x Reader, Will Graham x Sister!Reader

Word Count: 2,700-ish

Key: Chunks of text in italics are (Y/N)’s thoughts. Y/N = Your Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Cursing, Violence, 

Summary: You are Will Graham’s sister who works with him at the FBI. When you get offered a job promotion, life starts to change. Some changes for the better; Some for the worst.

Author’s Note: This is my first Hannibal piece and I am proud of it. There aren’t too many stories for Hannibal, so I figured I would add to the collection.

This does take place in some happy medium where they are all alive and work together. Sort of a happier season 1 era.

This is beta-read by @theeactress​, but please let me know if there is something that we missed or that we should look at again! 

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

<3

- DreaSaurusREX

Tag List: @fruitloopzzz @theeactress @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @geeksareunique @all-by-myself98 @sj-thefan​ @fuck-your-bad-vibes-dude​ @ntlmundy​ @a-person-unlabled

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was the first day in awhile that you didn’t feel any intense pressure weighing down on your shoulders. You walked into your office, prepared to have another day of trying to figure out the puzzle that was the Virginia Scalpel. But as soon as you shut the door, you realized that you didn’t have to worry about that anymore. It was a strange relief that you hadn’t ever felt. 

Although Jack’s tactical team still hadn’t caught Henry Urik yet and you were unsettled by him still being out there, you weren’t as scared as before. The killer that had been teasing you and that had named you one of his next victims now had a name. 

Jack’s team had all of the information that you and Hannibal could give them. You also had an armed agent watching over you and Hannibal until Henry was caught. 

All you had to worry about at the moment was your 1 o’clock lecture on the “stereotypes of gender roles and how they can affect the psyche of an individual,” and then you could take a half day and go take a nap at home. Well, that and your dinner with Hannibal tonight. But even then, you weren’t as worried about that as you were about Henry still being out there.

Your lecture went by quickly, even the students seemed to understand everything rather easily. Only a couple asked a few questions for clarification after your presentation. Even with those students stopping you, you got out a bit earlier than anticipated. Looking at your watch, you realized that Will was going to be leading a lecture soon.

I should probably talk to him. And I do really miss those dogs.

After stopping by your office to grab your bag and close up, you weaved through the familiar hallways to the nearest coffee machine, getting two cups, making one how you like  and one for Will. With both cups securely in your hands, you found the lecture hall he was assigned to today. You softly walked in, seeing your brother completely entranced in something on his laptop. Before you made it all the way into the room, you cleared your throat in effort to grab his attention. It worked. As soon as he located where the noise was coming from and saw you, he stood up and walked around to the other side of the desk.

“(Y/N)! Hey! Wh-what uh… What’s up?” You knew he was trying to not seem nervous, but you could see through him. You took a few steps closer and offered him the coffee cup, not seeing the probably empty one already on his desk. You tried to make your voice as comforting as you could.

“I was passing by and decided to stop by to ask you something.” 

“Is everything okay?” Will was hesitant but took the coffee, looking all over you for any sort of tells as to what is going on.

“As okay as they can be.” You shrugged, not feeling anything in particular, which only added to Will’s worry and confusion.

“What’s going on, (Y/N)?” 

You pause, seeing the visible uncomfortableness and growing fear in Will’s features. You quickly try to find a way to calm him down while getting to the point of why you’re here.

“Do you think the dogs would mind their favorite aunt stopping by for a drink tonight?” You couldn’t help the small smile that crept across your face as a slightly bigger one formed on Will’s. You could hear the extra air he let out in his chuckle, an obvious sigh of relief. 

“I think they would really like that.” His smile faltered a tad as he looked down to his hands. He spoke quieter, as if unsure how you would react. “I would really like that.” 

As he looked back towards your face to see your reaction, you met him with a sincere and reassuring smile. 

“Good. Me too.” Another huff of relief from Will. “I have dinner plans with Hannibal tonight. But I was hoping I could just drive over afterwards for a nightcap?”

“Sounds good to me. I’ll have the good stuff ready and waiting for you.” Will took a breath in, trying his best to be careful with his words. “And, if that nightcap ends up turning into a few, you could crash at my place.” 

Again, Will looked as if you were a powder keg about to explode if the wrong button was hit. You just closed the gap between the two of you and wrapped your arms around his torso, his finding their place around you. 

Your brother was not fond of physical affection from a majority of people. But you were one of the very few that he not only tolerated, but sometimes felt a need for. 

“I’ll pack an overnight bag just in case.” You pulled away and tapped your hand on his upper arm. “For now, I am going to go home and take a nap.

“Jack’s letting you go home early?” Will was genuinely surprised. Jack was never one for early dismissals.

“Well, considering I did finally find out the Virginia Scalpel’s real name last night and got all my work with that wrapped up, I think Crawford is a bit more lenient on what I do today.” You casually mention as you shrug.

“You did what?!” Will’s expression was one of shock and pride. A handful of students filed in behind you. A playful grin graced your face as you tapped his arm one more time before taking a couple of steps backwards.

“I’ll tell you all about it later tonight. I need to get ready for this assuredly anxiety-inducing dinner and you have a lecture to get through.” Will gave you a slightly annoyed look as you winked and walked away, talking over your shoulder. “I’ll call you when I’m on my way.”

You couldn’t see it, but Will just shook his head and let his smile linger a bit longer before turning his attention towards his class. As much as he worried about you during this case, he was very proud of his little sister. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When you got back to your apartment, you tried to take a nap. Key word: tried. Your brain would not calm down enough for you to fall asleep for even a quick cat nap. The coffee that you got before meeting with Will probably didn’t help.

After tossing and turning for 30 minutes, you gave up and decided to make some tea and get some cleaning done around your place. You hadn’t been able to do laundry thanks to the case, so you finally started to chisel away at that pile. 

Once you had put the last load in the dryer, you looked at the clock and saw that it was 5 o’clock. You had an hour before you were supposed to be at Hannibal’s. Might as well take my time and get ready.

After fussing with finding a comfortable but semi-formal outfit to match Hannibal’s aesthetic, you quickly packed a backpack with some overnight things. You were sure you’d end up talking to Will for longer than you both intend, meaning you’d either be too tipsy or too tired to drive home safely. 

With the last of your laundry out of the machine and plopped onto your bed for you to put away later, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door. Preparing for anything to happen.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As per usual, you pulled up to Hannibal’s five minutes early thanks to taking some backroads. You put the car in park and took the keys from the ignition, but you didn’t move. There was a tightening feeling in your chest. You tried to close your eyes for a moment and take some deep breaths. 

Dinner won’t be bad. Hannibal is a trained psychologist. If anyone is going to be able to guide the conversation into a calmer place, it's gonna be him. Plus you know damn well that you miss spending time with him that isn’t plagued by confusion or the fuckin Virginia Scalpel. You two are adults. You can talk about literally anything and be okay. 

So why am I still anxious?

Because you had your eyes closed, you didn’t see Hannibal approach your car. So when he opened your door, you instinctually jumped back and gasped.

“My apologies, (Y/N). I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you alright?” 

“No. It's fine. I’m fine. I was just taking a breather.” Hannibal nodded, sensing that you didn’t want to expand on this further. So instead he held out his hand.

“Shall we then? I have some salmon in the oven that is awaiting your judgment.” He let one of those small side smiles of his grace his face in an attempt to comfort you as you reached for his hand and he helped you out of your car, shutting the door behind you once you got your purse. 

Unlike usual, Hannibal led you to the dining room as opposed to the kitchen. He pulled out a chair for you. After you settled in, he poured you a cup of water and a glass of wine as he spoke.

“Everything is prepared, I just need to take the salmon out. I won’t be long.” You just thanked him and nodded as you took a sip of water. 

Within a couple of minutes, Hannibal was walking in with two plates that looked just as artistic and beautiful as he normally presents. The main part was a rather large piece of salmon with thin lemon slices laid across the top, paired with a mix of halved grape tomatoes, white asparagus, and the same twirly romanesco broccoli that you had tried the last time you had dinner with Hannibal.

“This looks wonderful, Hannibal. Thank you.” You said as he sat down. The two of you started to eat, both of you trying to figure out how best to start the conversation that you knew was coming. Hannibal was the first to speak up.

“Are you planning on going somewhere?" You were caught off guard, not expecting this to be the starting point of your talk with him.

"What makes you say that?"

"I couldn’t help but notice the slightly overstuffed bag in your passenger seat. I assume it's for staying the night somewhere other than your own apartment. And while you’re always welcomed to stay here if you wanted, I don’t think you would without asking me first."

“Then you would be right. I wouldn’t impose on you like that.” You went to take a sip of your wine as you looked at Hannibal. He gave you a look that said that he knew there was more that you needed to share. “I talked to Will briefly today and we made plans for tonight. We are finally going to talk this all out. The bag is for in case I end up getting too tired and sleep on his couch."

Hannibal gave a slight nod before cutting off a piece of salmon and continuing the conversation.

“I'm sure Will is happy to finally have a moment to talk with you and share his side of the story."

“I'm sure he is.” You took a sip of your wine, bracing yourself for the unavoidable topic. “How about you, Hannibal?” Hannibal looked towards you and raised a curious brow. “What's your side of the story?”

Hannibal took a sip of water before turning his body slightly more towards you, giving you his full attention as he finally spoke on what he had been thinking about saying for days now.

“Will came to me rather distraught after you had said that you were going to accept Jack’s offer. It was my idea to insert myself into Crawford’s team as background support. And while my original intention for joining the Scalpel case was to ease Will’s mind, I couldn’t ignore my own reasons.” Hannibal reached a hand out and grabbed yours, you felt your cheeks warm at the unexpected contact. He was so gentle with you as he spoke sincerely.

“After seeing Will crack again and again under Crawford’s intense force on the handful of cases that they worked on, I was worried you would also be damaged under his leadership. I cannot deny that I do truly care about you and your wellbeing. And with this being your first time handling a major active case, I wanted to be there in case something were to happen to you.”

You weren’t sure what to say. Hannibal had not only told you that it wasn’t Will’s idea to have him follow you, but he admitted that he cared about you. The trouble was that you couldn’t tell if it was the type of caring that you had secretly longed for with a more romantic relationship with Hannibal or if it was similar to how your brother cares about you. You wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t fit together and be coherent enough for you to vocalize.

While you struggled to figure out how to respond, Hannibal lifted your hand to his lips and kissed the back of your hand softly before putting it down and reaching for his glass of wine, raising it in your direction.

“Here’s to you and your impressive mind. Without you, who knows how long it would have taken to find out the true identity of the infamous Virginia Scalpel.” You raise your glass and gently tap his, finally able to form a coherent thought again.

“I’m sure Crawford would have just asked for your help or maybe even Will’s if I hadn’t said yes. I got lucky with this one.” You took a sip of your wine, savoring the sweetness of it as you started to slice the fish on your plate. “Honestly, I don’t think I would have figured it out without you inadvertently helping me.”

“How so?” Hannibal questioned before taking a bite of salmon.

“When you came to check on me after the lab meeting, I went on to say something about being your friend and colleague but not your patient. And that’s when it hit me that we weren’t looking in the right demographic.”

There was a moment of silence as Hannibal thought about where to go from this information.

“And how do you feel now?” You finished the bite of food that you had and looked at your water cup, not wanting Hannibal to see into your eyes even though he was already watching you rather intensely. Trying to read all of the nonverbal indications you were giving. 

“I feel okay. Well, as okay as I can be. That insane pressure of figuring out who the hell Henry Urik is was bigger than anything I’ve had to deal with since I started working with the FBI. But there is still the fact that Jack’s team still hasn't found him that has been really messing with me. That and the anxiety of finally having this talk with you and my brother.”

“I hope that some of that anxiety has worn away now that we have resolved things between us?”

“Some. But I can’t help but be worried until everything is settled.” 

“You now know that protecting you was my intention when I joined the Scalpel case. I don’t intend for that promise to end with this case being closed.” Hannibal’s hand casually found yours again, making you focus even more on what he was saying (if it was even possible to focus more.) 

“I promise to do everything in my power to make sure you feel safe and taken care of.”

His warm hand was instantly comforting and you hadn’t realized how much you craved physical affection from him, even in the smallest forms. Your heart swelled at his vow. 

Before you could fully process what he had said, the click of a gun being armed and a very different voice demanded your attention from the other side of the room. A man with messy red-brown hair cocked and aimed a pistol right at you.

“I don’t know if you wanna make that promise so soon, doc.”