#because one day i will find out / that you're drowning with someone else

[eldritch-spouse]

Dorem with a blind human who has endless positivity radiating off her. She knows the world is cruel and evil, but instead of getting drown in it, she stubbornly want to create as much good as possible (helping people, caring for abandoned animal,...etc). Without her vision, she didn't see Dorem as some monster at first, despite feeling very strange in his presence. She just thought he was a very quiet, awkward person.

Their first meeting would be at a graveyard. She was cleaning the graves of people who didn't have any family or friends left and was abandoned until it grew dirty and unnoticeable. She worked slowly, carefully, and completely unaware of the gaze directed at her from the shadows. Dorem has been watching her do this every Saturday for the past few months. He didn't understand it at first, thinking she had mistaken the graves of her familiar for someone else's due to her blindness. But overtime, he realizes her soul was just too bright, too kind and loving. He slowly warmed up to her and revealed himself to her one random afternoon. She was startled but eagerly began chatting with the mysterious graveyard visitor.

It was mostly her talking and him listening. Overtime, she learned of his true nature and bits n pieces of his past that he slowly revealed. She accepted it and became even more determined to make his future days better than his past.

[When you said cleaning graves, all I thought of was that blonde Tiktoker. 💀]

The thought of Dorem just about ready to pick you up and launch you through the air because he sees you squatting around a gravestone, messing with it, and immediately assumes you're some kind of grave defiler... Only to then just loom quietly and watch you clean it. Every. Single. Saturday. Like a confused donkey that slowly grows to appreciate it. Comedy gold.

It's good that you can't see him, but sight alone will not spare you of the instinctive dread he inflicts on the living. You'll know Dorem is something more than human or monster early on, because of the weight his voice carries, his strange smoke-like scent, the way he feels. Because, the moment he's sure he can touch mortals without harming them accidentally, he's going to let you touch certain parts of himself. Of his lanky, bony figure and even the flesh that forced itself upon his head.

He's hideous, but you don't need sight to know that.

Dorem encourages you to spend your time elsewhere. Humans already have short lifespans, don't go ahead and waste yours hovering around the dead and gone. Those are empty words and the two of you know it well, he would be disheartened to find you moved on. More than that, Dorem would follow you and easily terrorize the ones you call close, without even trying.

He sees a bit of himself in you. Working tirelessly yet unrecognized. It's almost futile to clean gravestones, just as it's almost futile for him to keep working for those who've long abandoned him. But the two of you don't know anything else, do you?

The soulkeeper knows things will never be the same, but the moments of peace and quiet he can steal when he sits beside you, letting you map out his hand for the hundredth time while you ramble and he chips in every now and then... Those moments make it feel as if things aren't all bad. He doesn't remember the last time he cradled a living being with as much gentleness as he holds you, prying you away from your exhaustive focus so he -A being many consider a harbinger of death- Can remind you to tend to basic needs.

There's a mild self-loathing in Dorem when your natural warmth stokes urges in him that have been buried for so long he didn't even know they still existed. He wouldn't curse someone as generous as you to laying with him, but then, he's already selfish for stealing all your time, and you don't seem to have very many friends... Would you turn him away if he were to reach for more than just your face?

If he were to whisper what he sees in your soul and how it makes him want to be as close to it as he can?

Dorem wonders how it'll spin and flare in the wake of pleasure.

[bitesizedpoetry]

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[shiny-jr]

Hi! I noticed that your requests were open and I love the way you write Malleus so I was hoping you would do yandere malleus x reader. where the reader knows twisted wonderland is a game (but not imposter au pls) and after they got isekia'd are trying to stop the overblots from happening and malleus is just terrified for them. Idk just an idea I've had for awhile but never found a fanfic like lol. Obviously it's totally fine if you don't want to do it or if I accidentally broke a rule. Anyway remember to drink some water and take a break if needed! Have a amazing rest of your day/night!!

Warning: Yandere (not really, not at all). Gender-neutral reader.

Characters: Malleus Draconia.

Summary: MC sees affection meters and it's not good.

Note: These are mainly thoughts and random words my mind spewed out.  

How did one claim victory at a game? Well, it entirely depended on the game, the mechanics and the options. It should've been impossible to lose a mobile game that was primarily composed of the gacha mechanism and visual novels.

When you suddenly found yourself in the series of twisted villains in a prestigious school of magic, you found that it was much more complex than it appeared on screen. Especially when only you could see these small bars occasionally floating above people's heads. Bars which you recognized as affection meters, nearly all of them stagnant at a dull gray 0% when you first arrived. This was the hurdle blocking your way to an easy victory. Because how else were you to escape the game, other than complete it?

Situations became messier, when you didn't have a dialogue options between two mere choices. Add making good impressions and keeping a character's favor, to the list of quests alongside avoiding death by inky overblotted characters. By some miracle, you had increased the affection of the characters you met and interacted with to a healthy 5% or 10%, sometimes more. At any cost you wished to avoid getting in the negatives, because you did not want to find out what would happen then.

Sometimes, the numbers would drop dangerously close to zero, mainly when an overblot was occuring. Never had you realized how the visual novel failed spectacularly at portraying the utter horror of the overblotted in all their wicked glory. The black inky darkness leaking from them like tears or blood with those crazed unhinged looks in their eyes–– was the stuff of pure nightmares.

And yet the one whose overblot you had been dreading the most, the dorm leader of Diasomnia, was surprisingly docile as you dealt with others. However, you knew even when conversing with him, that you would one day witness him overblot and look like some ethereal but deadly fallen angel. So mentally you prepared yourself, while taking on the task of keeping up appearances.

Malleus' affection meter, was a good 20% and a friendly pink shade, quite the accomplishment you were proud of, considering the majority of the cast wasn't even at 15%. The Draconia heir was certainly someone you never wanted to see reach below zero, so you did your absolute best to appeal to him, even if he was quite intimidating at first with the way he stoically watched you complain about the least of your worries, homework and classes.

By the time you spoke to him about your troubles with the Ramshackle dorm and Azul, during what you knew was the Octavinelle arc, the prince's affection had sprouted to a 22%. When you went into more detail of the potential loss you could face, it went to 23%.

The next time you saw him, you were weary and antsy since witnessing Azul's break-down. If the blot of his tears had the magic to gather, it would've been enough to drown, you were sure of it. Even by that maniac look in his eyes, you're sure he would've purposely drowned you if he got close enough.

Throughout that charlatan's chapter, his affection meter had slowly been rising, dropping during the overblot like the tides only to rise once again by the end to a good 45%. This was good!

But no matter how much you may have pondered, strategized, or try to predict each next action, you could've never guessed that the next time you saw Malleus after Azul's overblot, his expression taut with concern, his affection meter had made a jump to 55% and turned red. This entire time you had been avoiding the negatives, but you never once worried of the dangers and implications a red affection meter above 50% would mean for you. Or heaven forbid, anything close to 100%.

[marvelstoriesepic]

Angstober (day 16)

Pairing: Tfatws!Bucky x Shield!Reader

Prompt: No one else to turn to

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, fainting

Author’s note: I'm a little behind with the fics but I'm trying my best! Hope you enjoy :)

Angstober Masterlist

This is ironic, really.

Downright absurd. Laughable.

You’re just not in the position to laugh, or even crack the semblance of a smile. Your face feels stiff, evidently held together by a fragile patchwork of cuts and bruises that might split open at the slightest twitch. Not that you’d want to smile, even if you could.

You had assured Sam that you’d be fine to drive yourself back home after landing back on base about 25 minutes before. There actually had been a genuine belief that you’d be able to make it, so you told him all you needed was a hot shower to wash away all the blood and some rest, ignoring the wary looks of Sam as he watched you drive off.

Well, turns out it was a bad idea.

A terrible idea, considering the door you find yourself standing in front of right now. You don’t even know if he’s home. For all you know, he could be drowning whatever’s left of his sanity in some bar, down some street.

And even if he is here, he has every right to slam this door right back in your face. Perhaps after giving you the I told you so speech.

But in your defense, you really thought this mission would be simple. Sam and you both had thought so. It was supposed to be one of those in-and-out deals. But of course, it’s always those easy missions that turn ugly in a matter of seconds, spiraling into a slaughter that neither of you was ready for.

But hell, you even guessed Bucky saw that coming. Maybe that’s why he was so determined to join you two, but Sam and you declined immediately, insisting on sparing him the confrontation. After all, it was supposed to be a quick cleanup. Hydra remnants scattered like dust, nothing worth dragging Bucky back into that mess for.

So, Sam and you both figured he’d be better off staying behind, working with Torres on whatever else needed doing.

You’re glad you held back the comment about him hindering you on this mission by perhaps a disturbing memory or some shit. That wouldn’t have helped your current situation at all. And you did think it would have been a little harsh. Even for the bickering kind of relationship the two of you have.

Bucky wasn’t having any of that. He was ready to suit up and follow you into the fray, whether you wanted him there or not. Though, Sam and you took off before he could even strap on his gear. Simple, clean.

Predictably, that would definitely leave him in a foul mood. But to be real, grumpy isn’t new for Bucky. Actually, you only ever saw his expression soften when he was lost in thought, so lost he didn’t even notice you watching him. Or perhaps in that moment he really didn’t care.

Still, that irritable look seems to be his default setting. And, to be honest, perhaps he doesn’t even care enough to even be mad. You aren’t friends. Hell, you wouldn’t even call him an acquaintance.

You two are more like tolerated inconveniences for each other, sparse conversations always laced with sarcasm and banter. You doubt he sees you as anything other than a nuisance - someone always getting under his skin with your remarks.

So, you are well aware you really don’t have any business standing in front of his door, blood drying on your skin, looking like death warmed over.

But that’s the problem. You don’t have a choice. Because there is no way you’re making the 20 minutes to your apartment. You also won’t make it back to the base. Not to mention that driving in this state will not only endanger you, but rather the traffic around you. You're already feeling the blackness that tries to seep into your irises, pulling at your consciousness, threatening to drag you under, making you pass out before you’d even hit the halfway mark. And you don’t have anyone to blame but your stubborn self.

Bucky is your only option and you also start running out of time, the longer you linger outside his apartment, scared to knock. Terrified to do anything. You begin to sway on your feet. The longer you hesitate, the harder it gets to stay upright, and passing out on his doorstep for him to find you is perhaps even more embarrassing than this already is.

With trembling muscles, you try to lift your hand. Knocking on a door shouldn’t take this much effort, but it feels like it’s costing you everything. You’re burning energy you don’t have, and it’s starting to show.

Your hesitation seems to have been for nothing since there’s no answer after your knock. The only thing you hear is the blood rushing through your ears and your heartbeat loudly pounding against your ribcage, almost like a warning.

Another knock. It saps what little strength you have left. Your breathing grows heavier, more ragged, each inhale feeling like a sharp stab. There is a tightness in your chest that could be an indication something inside you might have torn, making it impossible to get in enough air.

The apartment behind the door is still silent.

You lean your forehead against the rough wood, the coolness grounding you for a moment. It’s as close to a third knock as you can manage. Your eyes slip closed for just a second too long.

“Barnes?” He surely wouldn’t be able to pick that up without his enhanced hearing. “It’s me.”

You’re not even sure what to say; not sure what you can say that will get him to open the door. But your thoughts are starting to slow, each one taking longer to form than the last. The blood loss is getting to you, causing every joint to feel like it’s rusting over.

“Are you home?” you murmur, a faint laugh caught in your throat at how stupid it sounds.

For a moment you think you hear something, perhaps a faint shuffle from the other side of the door. But your brain is swimming in exhaustion and pain, and it could easily be your mind playing tricks on you, teasing you with false hope. Maybe you didn’t even give him enough time to get to the door. You have no idea how long you’ve been standing here - standing might be too strong of a term by now.

Time is slippery in moments like these, hard to grasp, impossible to track.

A heavy and burning sigh falls from your lips, dragging your chest down with it. You push yourself off the door with a struggle that tears at your skin, shaking your head at your own stupidity. You’re not sure if your head even followed through with the movement.

You shouldn’t have believed for a second that he’d be around, or that he’d care if he was.

You attempt to step away, aiming for the staircase, but it seems your body isn’t in the mood to listen to any signal from your brain at all. Your foot catches on itself, and before you know it, you stumble, crashing into the wall beside his door with a loud thud. A pained groan forces its way out of you, the impact shooting excruciating vibrations through your body, curling into every nerve like they’re planning to stay. You press a hand to your side, movements not entirely your own, but it does nothing to soothe the ache.

You curse under your breath, or at least you think you do, eyes fluttering dangerously. You’re not sure how much longer your feet will carry you. Are you even still standing at all?

Muffled curses break through the rushing sound in your ears, blending into the tumultuous pulse of your own blood pounding in your head. They don’t seem to come from you though.

“Fucking hell, Y/n.”

All you can manage in response is another weak groan.

Before you can fully process what’s happening and where that frustrated voice came from, you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you effortlessly into the air. Insanely enough, a surge of exhilaration bubbles in your belly and you feel weightless for a moment, like you’re floating in some strange void that’s just barely tethering you to reality but still keeping a strong grasp on you.

The sensation is short-lived and you almost let out a whine. Not at all from the pain. You’re lowered onto something softer than you guessed the floor would feel like, cushions beneath your back. You try to wrap your head around how that could have happened.

That weight returns. The hands around you, however, don’t leave you. Your thoughts are sluggish and trying to focus on anything is an effort you’re not able to keep up with. Your vision is a spinning blur, dizzy head trying to make sense of your situation, but you can feel the tender press of the back of a hand on your forehead, checking for something you can’t quite grasp.

Blue. That’s the first thing your mind manages to hang on to. A vivid, piercing shade of blue. But it’s not just color. It’s wrapped up in something deeper. Emotions, swirling and twirling, so heavy it almost hurts to look at. The sight alone drags another groan out of you, low and pained.

“I know, sweetheart, I know. Just hold tight, you hear me? I got you.”

Wait.

You know that voice. Rough around the edges, always carrying a certain weight, but now laced with something you don’t recognize. Those eyes on you - the blue ones - you know those, too. Of course, you do. But there is something new, something like panic flooding them, you never thought you’d see in Bucky Barnes.

“Barnes?” The word barely falls from your lips, more of a croak than anything, but it’s enough. He was home. He heard you. He carried you inside.

There is something stirring inside of you, a warmth threading through the pain. Relief, maybe, or something close to it. You know Bucky and you have your problems sometimes but hell you never doubted him being the good man he is.

“Yes, it’s me,” he murmurs, so soft, you want to lay in it. Bathing in the gentleness of his voice, getting rid of the blood and pain your body holds. “Try not to talk, alright? There are some nasty bruises around your neck. You gotta go easy on your voice.”

You hum in response, the sound barely more than a soft but uncomfortable vibration in your throat. His words slide through your mind like shadows, half-formed and hard to grasp, but you understand enough.

There’s the sound of clattering around you, hurried shuffling of hands working beside you, perhaps on you, somewhere nearby. But instead of jarring you, it’s comforting, like white noise. It lulls you deeper into the fog.

Suddenly, his voice cuts through it all, sharp and urgent.

“Hey!”

It startles you. Your eyes snap open - you didn’t know they closed in the first place - body jerking from the force of his tone.

His face looms closer, those blue eyes boring into yours, pinning you down with an intensity you can’t ignore.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but you have to keep your eyes open. You hear me?” His voice trembles in a way you never heard, and that - more than anything - forces your mind back to the surface, your eyes clearing just enough to make him out.

It’s disorienting, seeing Bucky like this. Surprising. He moves in a way that almost associates incoordination, a frantic energy surrounding him. There is something off about the way he handles himself, the way his hands fumble with supplies, clattering objects that should have stayed silent. It’s startling, unsettling even. Bucky Barnes is a man in control. Just not right now.

His hands return to your body, his touch firm and still tender, but there is a shakiness in them as his fingers skim over your torn-up skin.

He’s pressing gently where he can, wincing as if it’s him in pain every time you flinch. The fabric of your slightly torn suit sticks to your body, and he curses softly under his breath, grabbing a pair of scissors from somewhere beside him. With a few quick, jagged snips, he cuts away parts of the fabric of your suit to get a better view of your torso, revealing the bruises that litter your skin, darkening it in a sickening way.

He apologizes for every hiss, groan, and whimper you can’t suppress at the sharp sting that slices through the dull ache due to the antiseptic he uses on your skin.

His brow is furrowed deeply as he wipes the blood away with almost erratic strokes, trying to clean the area but moving a little too fast for his usual precision. The cloth is stained dark in no time, and he tosses it aside, reaching for gauze, fumbling with the tape as if he’s forgotten how to use it for a moment.

Every breath feels heavier as he continues to work on your wounds, pain pulsing with every fresh inhale.

Bucky’s eyes keep darting between your face and the wounds as if he’s checking not only for your injuries but for something else - for a sign that you’re still with him, still conscious, still breathing.

His hand moves back to your forehead, brushing some strands of hair aside with so much gentleness as he checks your temperature again. His face is tight, his jaw clenched.

It is odd, almost comforting in a way you haven’t expected. Bucky Barnes, always so composed, now seems to have trouble holding it together. And somehow, seeing him this unfiltered, this human, makes your earlier doubts vanish. Those persistent thoughts, that he wouldn’t care if you showed up on his doorstep battered and bleeding, that he’d turn away, turn you away, or doesn’t even open the door in the first place - they all but disappear.

He does care. More than you ever thought possible, more than you imagined he even knew how to. You can feel it in the way his hands linger on your skin, urgent yet careful, and in the way his curses are filled with so much apprehension and frustration.

The same Bucky you thought might not give a damn is now fighting some battle with himself as if his sheer will could hold you here.

And for some reason, that knowledge eases something inside you, delightfully loosening that knot of tension in your chest. Again, your body starts to feel like it’s floating, somewhere in the air but instead it’s sinking deeper into the cushions beneath you, slowly letting go. It’s not your body that’s floating this time, it’s your mind. As if it decided to detach itself from the pain, from the reality of your wounds and your situation, and simply drifted away. It’s weightless, flying through a space just beyond your reach. It’s almost surreal, like you’re suspended in air but you know, somehow, that you’re still lying on that couch.

And Bucky’s here.

His hands are on you. His voice is in your ears but none of it feels quite real anymore.

You don’t have it in you to fight it anymore. Your body is letting go, surrendering, and you can’t muster the strength to resist.

Bucky’s voice sounds closer, much more than you thought it had been, but it seems distant too. It’s rough, desperate; words coming out with a crack. He’s pleading with you, urging you to stay with him, to keep your eyes open.

But you can’t. You’re slipping. Still, you feel like smiling if your face would have allowed it.

Bucky is here. And although you stopped listening to his words, losing the sense of his presence, you know he will stay.

You’re in good hands.

🍁 October Writing Challenges Masterlist 🍁

[granddaughterogg]

men of Modern Warfare and how they are in relationships

Captain John Price

Self esteem: high, and damn rightly so. Heart on his sleeve. Doesn't really get the idea of being emotionally closed off. Seems like such a hassle, innit? He's got a lot to give and is not afraid to admit that he's a giver through and through. His love language is words, but also touch, and this man is insatiable. Will drown you in tenderness if you let him. You want to feel like a queen for the rest of your days together? Marry his ass.

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish

Self esteem: Pretty high. He's impulsive as all out and a motormouth, so even if he wanted to hide his feelings from you - it's a battle already lost. He's way more sensitive that his Bro Persona might suggest and will be equal parts touched and embarrassed if you find out on your own. Showoff. Possessive to a fault. Can get quite cunty with his jokes sometimes, but will apologize for it profusely. He's so afraid to lose you. His love language is fucking your brains out. It's not like you're complaining.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

He has this healthy belief in himself. Probably the most level-headed when it comes to falling in love out of the whole Task Force. Notices your affection right away and responds bringing his best game to the table - and this man can be Charming! Can get quite harsh when agitated though. Get prepared to be brought to tears if you two fight over something important. He'll notice that you're hurting, but firmly believes that it's not a reason to avoid discussion. His love language is shared hobbies.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Whoo boy. Self esteem: Unwavering when it comes to his job activities, and fairly bad considering everything else. He's one big walking emotional scar. Doesn't believe to be worthy of love and therefore remains oblivious to it for the longest. Probably has alexythymia on top of it. You have to grab him by the collar and shout I LOVE YOU, YOU BIG LUG into his face or he'll never get it.

Once you two are officially together he will give you plenty of everything that you need- except words. Won't tell you that he loves you unless you're on a hospital bed or something. His love language are everyday acts of service. That joke about a man who got told by his shrink that he should show his wife more affection, so he went and washed her car? It's been written about SImon Riley.

König

Self esteem: terrible. Frankly speaking, he should attend therapy before he even gets in a relationship. But shit happens, right?

He's touch starved, sex starved, obsessive and zealous. When he falls in love, it's as if he regressed into being a teenager again. He will idealize the SHIT out of you, you will become his sun, his sky, his everything. You say "jump!" and he happily throws himself over a precipice. Don't say "jump." If someone hurts you, the police will have a grotesquely mutilated corpse on their hands.

Love language: sex. He is very much a sub, even when he's the one holding a knife to your throat because you've asked him for it.

[felibrary]

LOVE IS AN OPEN DOOR - chuuya nakahara

synopsis: if you wouldn't know any better you'd think that chuuya nakahara doesn't take a liking to you - he loathes you. but what if one day you make a shocking discovery that it might be the opposite.

pairing: chuuya nakahara x gn!reader | wordcount: 1.2k | content & warnings: im at the first ep of s4, so if chuuya mischaracterized no need to wonder…, school au-ish kind of??, cursing (fuck), dazai teases chuuya for his crush, chuuyas kinda not rly good with his feelings and expressing himself, drinking (chuuya offering to go out and drink), dazai plays cupid/matchmaker

a/n: when i wrote this i didn't have 15 yo dazai or chuuya in mind (cause of the school au yk) just as them idk but interpret it however you like - high school or college wtv, im so obsessed with chuuya rn y'all don't even know, hope u guys enjoy this little thing i've whipped up in an hour

you're convinced that chuuya nakahara hates you.

that's one thing you're sure of. after all, he avoids you like the plague; however when the two of you do get in touch with one another, he starts cursing you out, calling you names such as “dumbass" and abruptly leaves.

yeah, you're pretty sure that that guy dislikes - if not despises you. although until now you've hadn’t had the slightest idea why. well, that was the case up until now.

some days have passed since you started noticing it. every time you hung out with dazai and started laughing a bit too loudly at his jokes or lightly slapped his shoulder, chuuya gave you a death stare - if you wouldnt know any better he looked like he’d grab your throat any minute to shut you up.

admittedly (and also embarrassedly) you never really noticed it until dazai has pointed it out. which, on one hand, explains the weird feeling you’ve recently gotten - it felt like someone was shooting daggers at the back of your head, luckily for you, that’s solved now.

but on the other hand, you still demand an explanation why chuuya would do that. is it simply because of his (one-sided) hatred towards you, that can’t be the case right? or did he have a huge crush on dazai, that’s the most realistic explanation that you can think of.

-

once school ended and the bell had just rung to release everyone from their classes and go back home. you’d usually scurry home right away, because there was no point in staying longer, after all who’d want to endure this hell house also known as school more than necessary, it's no use right?

well jokes on you, staying over time was definitely worth it. kunikida assigned you the task (forced) to carry a huge stack of boxes full of documents and paper to your homeroom teacher's room, because it was the “right” thing to do - well at least according to his ideals. 

“but what about dazai? that idiot  just ran off and is probably slacking off right now!” you protested, because it's not fair when everyone has a task to complete and someone else just gets to relax, right? 

at your complaint the blond could only scoff “i’ll scold him later, but for now let's just concentrate on the task in front of us, time is running out.”

-

that’s how you ended up here, back pressed against the heavy classroom door that separated you and the two guys that were inside the room as you tried to listen in into their conversation.

initially your plan was to find dazai, drag him by the collar of his white button up and beat his ass for skipping and leaving you alone with a ton of boxes that not only cost you ten minutes to carry around or so.

because neither kunikida or anyone else didn’t bother to tell you that there were three, fucking three, of those staples of boxes that were filled with countless papers.

however, it came to a change of plans upon hearing chuuyas’ voice. usually, any sound that was made inside of the classrooms was drowned out and barely audible to hear outside the room. 

this time, that didn’t seem to be the case though. chuuyas’ screaming and dazais' hysterical laughter were faint but loud enough to hear from outside the room. 

“come on chuuya, there's no need denying it, you have a massive crush on them.” dazais’ voice was laced with amusement as he started laughing out loud which seemed to piss the redhead off. 

you were able to hear a small huff that escaped dazais mouth. “chuuya, there’s really no need to start getting all violent, just admit that you’re absolutely whipped for them!” the brunette chuckled. “so stop kicking me in the balls!” that probably earned him another kick as you could hear dazai letting out a small “ouch.”

“shut up, shitty dazai.” the guy in question only snickered at that. “yeah, yeah. everyone’s able to tell that you’re madly in love with them. every time you’re around them you start to get beet red, the color even exceeds the one of your hair! a hilarious sight to look at, really.” 

you didn’t hear a response from chuuya and apparently neither did dazai so he just continued his rant. “also, let me tell you one thing, you’re not making it any better by cussing them out or intently staring at them, that���s just scary, man!” dazai closes his eyes and starts shaking his head before tutting in disappointment.

“oh chuuya. the brunette sighs, eyes still closed. “letting a beauty like them slip away this easily by not showing any proper interest. you’re to be pitied, really.” the male moves away from his previous position and bolts over to the door, crossing his arms as his back leans against the door.

an exasperated sigh leaves chuuyas mouth. “what do you expect me to do then? they probably have a horrible impression of me already. if i pull up with a bouquet of roses and some cliché pick up lines, they’d probably stare at me in horror, wondering if i got possessed or something.” he sneers at dazai. 

just who in the world are they talking about?

dazai pretends to think for a moment before snapping his fingers. “well for starters, how about greeting them, doesn’t even have to be verbal, just some waving or nodding. then start hanging out with them!”

“idiot! how's that supposed to work from just greeting each other!” the ginger scowls at dazai.

“hold your horses.” the brunette whistles. “i didn't say to rendez-vous and have a candle-light dinner. how about accepting those group invites first that you keep declining. then you’d have the chance to meet up with them more often and get to know them.”

dazai continues to advise chuuya by giving him tips and recommendations “try bonding over stuff with each other, like favorite shows or food. and if you’re not incapable of doing so, how about complimenting them. wouldn't hurt you know?” dazai shrugs in simplicity. 

chuuyas still skeptical “assumingly that was the case. the two of us attending the same party, they’re alone and i finally get the chance to approach them, what the fuck am i supposed to say?” dazai only smiles at chuuya, a look that says “that’s up to you.” 

“why not use me as your lab rat!” dazai suggests optimistically.

“no way in hell!” chuuya shoots back pessimistically.

after pondering and musing for a while, chuuya comes up with a curt sentence. “i find you really good looking and cool.” the redhead stops and both you and dazai await his continuation in anticipation. “wanna go out and grab drinks sometimes?” chuuya doesn’t look up from the floor which he’s been staring at for the past minute. the tips of his ears tinted in a vermillion red.

“well, that wasn't so hard was it?” dazai asks cheerily, clapping his hands together. “if you still have doubts, how about you try it on the real thing now?” and before you can realize what's going on dazai swiftly steps away from the door before grabbing the door handle and opens the door, revealing your figure to the two guys. 

you’re not sure who's more taken aback, you or chuuya.

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

e/n: as y’all can tell the title is inspired by frozen's love is an open door cause y’know dazai opens the door for chuuya to confess his feelings. does this make sense lol??

[heartfullofleeches]

Miller [Streamer Yan] and Vtuber Darling that's a regular 110% human being just like them :). Darling's model is pretty average, yet cute looking, but it's their gimmick that really pulls people in.

"Ah, I'm a little thirsty. Excuse me while I drink water with my human mouth... which I have only one of."

"Do you like when I play horror games? I. Like. Them. Too. But I prefer the ones where the main character befriends the monsters at the end :)"

"Oh... Is that really what people look like instead?... I. Am full of meat too. We have so much more in common than I thought."

Quite the oddball, but their chat finds their behaviors adorable. Miller does too. They're over the moon when Darling accepts their friend requests and even more thrilled when darling mentions Miller is their first companion and streaming buddy. They've never been able to make friends before and was lonely because of it, but since they've gained a following it feels like they're never alone.

There are a few hiccups on the day Miller and Darling first stream together. Static drowns out darling's voice when they call and Miller can faintly hear what sounds like...purring? in the background. Darling apologies for the strange sounds once they're finally able to get through to Miller - their pet cat was happy they finally made a friend.

Miller is crushing hard from day one. They've never seen darling's face, but if they're half as cute as their voice they might be too far out of Miller's league. They've tried scrolling through darling's social media pages for photos of them, but all they were able to find was old selfies taken in the worst lighting imaginable... Pretty blurry too.

Darling likes Miller too. They feel as though they can trust the streamer. Trust them with anything.

"Mill...er? I. Have a confession."

"I'm all ears- Lay it on me, baby."

"Can you promise? Promise. Not to be.. Afraid?"

"Afraid? Who'd ever be scared of someone like you? You don't really scream serial killer from the conversations we've had so far."

"If that's is the case... Join the call. See. Me. I. Trust you, Miller."

Call? Oh, darling invited them to a video call. It's crazy that it's the first one after all the time, but Miller respects their privacy....a little. Miller can't see much of anything when they join in. Small, white lights greet them shrouded by the darkness of darling's room as their end connects. Looking closer, Miller realizes....

Those are eyes.

"I'm. So sorry for deceiving you.... and everyone else. Miller.... Thank you for being so kind to me. I couldn't lie to you anymore. I'm sorry. I understand. If you hate me now ...."

"Hate you?.... I'm trying to figure out when our first date is-"

"Ah?"

"You like pork chops? Steak? I remember you talking a lot about meat in earlier streams. I like a person who can really eat, y'know?"

Are they.... flirting? Darling is vaguely aware of the practice. Miller can see them right? Why are they acting so nonchalant about their appearance?

"Hm? It's still you, isn't it? A few more eyes or rows of teeth don't change the fact you're one of the chillest people I've met online. Cutest too. Even now.... So, when can we meet up?"

Miller is strange.... but Darling is strange too. They're happy they met them.

-

Miller: So you're telling me you've been this sexy monster person this entire time?

Vtuber Darling: i... suppose?

Miller: And you choose that boring ass design as your avatar?! Actually that was probably better for me personally - weeds out some of the competition.

[navybrat817]

How would Bucky (any of the soft boyfriends like Stud or the Florist) handle it when their girl gets bad news? Like a death in the family or something of that nature? I could use some soft sweet Bucky.

As someone who was hit with unexpected grief this week, it's tough.

Not Okay

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky comforts you after a bad day.

Word Count: Over 900

Warnings: Established relationship, grief, hurt, crying, comfort, slight feels (it's me), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: You're free to picture this as regular Bucky, Stud, our florist, anyone. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

You heard a long time ago that grief comes in waves. Or did it flow through people like a river? Perhaps both. One moment you were fine and then the next you felt as if the tide would sweep you away. It pulled you under, the pain and sorrow like weights dragging you down. It was dark. Hopeless. You feared you wouldn't be able to surface again.

And then out of nowhere, light sometimes burst through the grief like a guiding hand.

“Hey.” A familiar voice beckoned you to pull yourself out of your throbbing head, to not drown in your sorrow. “Are you okay?”

With blurry eyes, you looked up to find Bucky standing over you with concern written all over his handsome face. When did he come in and when had you collapsed on the couch? It was too much of an effort to make it to your bedroom at the time. Why was grief so tiring? Why were normal tasks so hard to manage?

Bucky crouched down, hesitating for a moment as he reached for you. “Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked. Sniffling, you gave him a nod. It meant the world that he asked. The warmth of his touch seeped into you as he helped you sit up, his hands moving up and down your arms in a comforting motion. Why were you so cold? “Can you tell me what's wrong?” He reached up to brush a tear away with his thumb.

There were so many unspoken questions in his stare. What happened? Who did this to you? Are you hurt? How can I make it better? Are you going to be okay? You sensed how badly he wanted to comfort and protect you from whatever he could. He was the kind of man who would have spared you pain and taken it into himself if he had the ability to do so.

How did you get so lucky?

"I…" To say nothing would've been a lie since you were clearly hurting. To say everything also would've been a lie. You were still breathing and had a roof over your head. Tears ran down your cheeks, so you were still feeling and that was better than being numb to it all. You had Bucky. Those were all good things, things to be thankful for.

But not every day could be warmth and smiles. Today was a day of coldness and tears and you were in the eye of the storm, the screams in your head drowned out by the rest of the noise. You had to push through because once the dust settled the sun would come out again. It seemed so far away though, so out of reach.

Bucky wiped another tear, not pushing you to say more. Why couldn't you just tell him what was wrong? It should've been an easy question to answer, but being vulnerable and talking about feelings rarely was. It was like cutting open your own heart and asking someone else to stop the bleeding.

I’m in pain, Bucky. It hurts. It hurts so much and it isn’t fair. Please, take it away. If you can’t take it away, please, make it better somehow. I don’t want to carry this alone.

Maybe that’s why the words were stuck in your throat. You didn’t want your burden to become his. How was that fair? But looking into his blue eyes, you were reminded that relationships were about give and take. Some days you’d have to carry each other through the dark times and other days he’d lift you up. The scale would tip until it balanced again.

That was love.

“I got some bad news today,” you finally whispered, trying not to shatter into a million pieces. Grief didn’t care if you wanted to stay whole or not. It would find the smallest of cracks and burst through whether you wanted it to or not.

Bucky nodded in understanding, still not pressuring you to say more. He knew you’d tell him exactly what happened once you were ready. “I’ll order us something for dinner,” he offered. If he cooked for you, he’d be apart from you for too long. Ordering would allow him to stay with you if you needed him. And you had to eat. “And maybe a movie on the couch under a blanket?” He suggested, so you wouldn’t have to move out of the room if you didn’t want to.

“Yeah. That sounds nice.” You tried to give him a smile after he kissed your forehead. “Thanks.”

“What else can I do?” He asked, searching your face for the answer. “Please, tell me.”

“Just hold me,” you answered. A simple request, but one that took a lot to ask for.

He gathered you into his arms and held you tight, allowing you to stain his shirt with your tears. Crying helped you cleanse your soul, allowing you to let go of things unsaid and slowly start anew. He gently rocked you as the sobs faded to tiny sniffles and he whispered how much he loved you. Through your crying you said you loved him, too. You’d always love him.

Time passed as he continued to hold you, neither of you wanting to move. The hurt didn’t fade completely, but him being your rock and wrapping you up in love was the soothing balm you needed. And for today, that was more than enough.

We could all use a Bucky. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[qatarsprint2023]

Hi can I request a lando x f!reader when she’s really sick and how lando takes care of her, like A. fluffy and comforting fic. I just found ur acc and I’m so excited for ur upcoming writings!!!!

~🎀

Thank you sm! Hope you enjoy this one, 🎀<3

Sick days and Race weekends— LN4

Lando discovers that his girlfriend got sick while he was away for a race and didn't want to worry him. — Lando Norris x f!reader, fluff, comfort, reader has a bad case of the flu, no use of y/n word count: ca. 1.2k

Ever since you were a kid you'd never been the type of person to get actually sick. Sure, a little cough and runny nose maybe, but nothing ever really drastic. Personally, you were pretty sure your immune system was simply a wonderful combination of good genes and growing up in the countryside.

Your parents had always told you that the fresh air and spending a lot of time outdoors with some exposure to animals had probably played some part in your never being sick as well and developed your immune system in a way people who grew up in urban areas would never have.

But when you moved to London for uni a little later in life, a huge city with tons of traffic, pollution and surprisingly little greenery, you found yourself getting sick more often than when you lived on your parent's farm surrounded by green grass, fields that stretched for miles and lots of animals. However this time you got sick. Runny nose, aching joints, pounding headache, hacking cough, fever that came and went as it pleased... The whole flu package, really.

You'd already started feeling a little off before Lando left for Austin on Wednesday and it had gradually gotten a little worse each day, but by Friday it all just hit like a wrecking ball. But you being you, decided not to say anything much about it and tell your boyfriend it was just a common cold you were dealing with back home.

He'd done so well in Qualifying on Friday and he should really be concentrating on his upcoming race and not his girlfriend's inane complaints from halfway across the globe. You didn't like worrying people. It didn't feel right plaguing someone else with your problems when surely you could somehow find a way to work it out yourself anyway.

But now it was Monday morning and you had curled up on the couch under the heaviest blanket you could find with a half empty tissue box and a giant mug of tea on the coffee table beside you a few hours ago already. You were cold and shivering like leaves in the wind on an icey autumn day like today, even with your hot drink and the warm blanket thrown across your body.

You couldn't have been more miserable. You felt like you were dying. You couldn't go to work, or leave the house because you simply felt awful and weak. So, you decided to just lay down on the couch and wait for Lando to get home.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting for the familiar sound of a key turning in the lock, you perked up a little at the sound coming from the door across the room. Lando stepped inside and shut the door behind him with a soft sigh slipping past his lips, not noticing you.

"Hey... P2!" you croaked weakly and forced a small smile onto your lips when you saw your boyfriend step into your shared flat, suitcase in hand, his coat and shoes still on as well after he just made his way through Heathrow airport and probably (definitely) went through a mini heart attack too when his luggage didn't immediately come out with everything else from the flight, like he always does when you're flying somewhere.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he'd actually heard you call out to him. It was the last thing he expected to hear. Reasonable response, you had to concur— after all, you were supposed to be at work. Then he turned to face the couch and saw you laying there, basically drowning under the heavy fabric of your blanket.

"Hey, hey... What's wrong? Why aren't you at work?" he asked in a voice that showed obvious signs of worry as he quickly kicked his shoes off and went over to you, feeling your forehead with his cold palm. "Jesus. You're basically on fire, baby... I thought you just had a normal cough?!"

"Didn't wanna worry you," you chuckled with an innocent smile, but before you knew it, your chuckle turned into yet another harsh cough. According to your mum, you sounded like an elephant with tuberculosis, like she told you over the phone yesterday. Harsh but true comparison, you had to admit.

Lando groaned and shook his head in an exaggerated way. "Yeah but, you should worry me when you get a fever like this!" However his expression softened to one of sympathy as he sat down beside you on the edge of the beige couch, gently stroking your forehead in an attempt to make you feel more at ease.

"Why didn't you tell me you felt this bad when we talked yesterday?" he frowned, some of his soft curls falling onto his forehead.

"You just got P2 and you sounded so happy about that on the phone, so I didn't wanna dampen the mood," you respond with a shrug.

"The only thing you've got me feeling right now is worried, baby. Come on, you can hardly talk without having a coughing fit," he sighed, putting his arm around you and planting a kiss on the crown of your head. "Have you had anything to eat?"

"Not yet," you sniffled softly and shook your head, rubbing the bridge of your nose with your index finger and thumb. It felt like there was someone playing a damn drum solo against the inside of your skull. "Didn't have the energy to make myself anything more than tea. I feel like death..."

"I know, baby, I know..." Lando sighed softly and gently stroked your cheek with his thumb as he stood up and placed his hands on his hips, looking down at you. "I'll make you some toast, okay? But first let's get you to bed... The couch isn't comfortable enough for when my girl needs to rest. It'll give you a stiff neck, sweetheart."

Lando gently looped his arm around your waist and helped you get up from the couch, a soft groan escaping your throat. He held you upright as you slowly walked over to the bedroom where your boyfriend lied you down in bed and pulled the covers over your shivering body, enveloping you in a warm sea of soft bedsheets.

"Alright..." he said with a sympathetic gaze in his hazel eyes and fluffed up your pillow a little, so you could lay down more comfortably. "I'll make you something and I'll bring you your tea in a minute too. Oh and some of that cough syrup we have as well. I know you don't like it, but I don't like it when you sound like you're gonna cough up your lungs any second. Do you want me to make you some soup later too?"

"You can make soup?" you retorted raspily and covered your mouth as another cough slipped past your chapped lips.

"Well... no... But I can make soup from the can?" Lando suggested with a sheepish grin, which caused you to smile a bit as well. It was so nice to have someone who just wanted to help and make you feel better.

"That'd be nice, thank you..." you replied softly and smiled, though you quickly covered your mouth as he leaned down to kiss you. "No! I'll get you sick too!"

"Well, I sure as hell won't let you sleep alone tonight, so whether I kiss you now or have my arm around you for seven hours tonight doesn't really make a big difference, does it?" he chuckled and gently took your hand away from your face to press a chaste kiss against your pale lips.

"Stay with me afterwards?" you hummed softly, not yet pulling away from the tender sensation of his lips on yours and your hand in his.

"I'll stay as long as you want me to," said Lando in response and gently gave your hip a pat. "But first I'll get you something to eat and your tea from the living room, yeah?"

[aphroditesmoon]

tide

clarisse la rue x poseidon's daughter

summary: clarisse and reader have been rivals since they first met, but when someone does a harmless prank ends up seriously hurting reader, she throws all thought aside to save her.

warnings: enemies to lovers ish, drowning, reader can't swim (ironic), cursing

wc: 3k

---

It's rare that any camper get to leave camp at all, and all of them getting to leave at the same time is even more suspicious.

But no one complained when they were offered a little vacation by the river for a day. Finally, a break from all the training and learning.

Unfortunate events usually follow along after good days, but as of this moment right now, you refused to think of the Gods' dirty games with each other and how you'd all eventually be used as pawns. Whatever hurricane coming after will be dealt with when it happens. But today isn't about them or any other war you'd be forced to fight in. Today is about the campers for once.

You lounged against a large rock in your dark blue swimsuit while the others played in the water, swinging themselves of the wooden bridge from a rope. Any animosity that ever existed between different cabins disappeared today. Everyone is one and the same, and everyone regards each other as family.

You dipped your toes shyly into the clear water as you leaned back on the rock with your eyes closed, bathing under the golden sun that lit your skin up like gold. The weather was as joyous as the people's exultation, There is a certain peacefulness that spreads in the air and it was nice.

The laughter and chattering provided a feeling of comfort that you find yourself lacking these days. Being a half-blood meant adapting to the uncomfortable and dangerous, and so these kind of days where you feel that you could just exist without a burdening expectation over your head is immensely appreciated.

Your sunbathing is interrupted when you feel a shadow looming over you, and drops of water falling onto your face. Opening your eyes, you're met with a dripping wet Luke Castellan grinning down at you. "Move, you dog." You squealed, wiping the wetness off of you. He shook his head violently, scattering more water over your body, making you scream out in annoyance. "I will kill you!" You declared loudly and shoved him with your feet, making him stop.

"What are you doing on dry land, daughter of Poseidon?" He asks, unaffected with your teasing threats.

"Don't last name me, and I'm sunbathing." You informed and shoved him to the side with your feet. "Sunbathing? You're supposed to be in the water, is that not your natural habitat?" You smiled despite yourself and shook your head.

"I'm perfectly fine up here, so you can continue having your fun down there." Luke nodded absent-mindedly. "Oh it's definitely fun, alright. Though on a random note, did you notice at all that a certain someone has been sending death glares in your direction?"

You frowned, "who-?" Luke interjects. "Don't look behind you-" too late, you turned around anyways. And lo behold, Clarisse La Rue's eyes met yours, and you have never seen her twist her head around as quickly as she did at the moment.

"Oh, her." You sighed. Luke gave you a curious look of curiously. "I never understood your rivalry, not even right now." You shrugged and closed your eyes back again.

"You can go ahead and ask her about it. She just can't stop finding issues with me, always in need of an argument." It's true, you thought.

Sure, there are plenty of moments where you fought first, wanting to get your lick back. But it was all in response to her hostility first. And even now, on a day where everyone ought to enjoy themselves, she would rather stare you down so intensely, ruining her own day.

You still remember the first time you realized that she hated you. It was after you were claimed, while everyone else was in a pleasant mood, mostly surprised. Her expression is one of annoyance. Because how dare anyone here shine brighter than her. You both were still so young at the time. But it only got worse over time.

She had thought that you'd subjugate yourself to her like some coward. But you stood your ground, a daughter of Poseidon would not cower from another half blood like a spineless creature.

And as much as she's a vengeful fighter, you could also see the glint of admiration growing in her gaze over time. She didn't want to admit it, but she had finally found someone her own size. You, of course, usually dealt with things as pragmatic as you could, but some bullies are begging to be bullied back.

It wasn't all bad though, sometimes it was even fun. Like two children being petty for the sake of pettiness.

"At least one of us is enjoying our day." You thought aloud. You didn't miss the scorned expression on Clarisse's face before she looked away. "Are you enjoying your day?" Luke asks, folding his arms together.

He always thought he was good at reading people. And maybe he was with some people, but you pride yourself in being unexpected. Sometimes you say things you don't mean and do things you wish you didn't have to just to get by. People only knew things about you that you wanted them to know. Let them in a few stories and they'll think they've successfully interpreted you.

And as much as you liked Luke, he is not an exception.

"Yes, I just told you I am." He hummed in question, making you open your eyes again. "You know it's not everyday we get to leave camp like this, and you're spending it on dry land? You can sunbathe anytime you like back there."

"Why are you so keen on getting me down there?" You inquired, amused. "Because there is no way you're getting me to get in there, I mean I just had hair wash day."

"Are you sure about that?" Before you could answer, he had bowed down and grabbed you by your waist, throwing you over his shoulder.

"Luke-" you shouted out, the sudden movement taking you by surprise. It was easy to understand what he was going to do when he began running towards the bridge. You felt your blood run cold.

"Don't throw me in! I swear to god Luke-" You yelled with all your heart, but the boy seemed to assume that you were joking as he laughed at your words.

"Off with the fishes you go!" He responded and swung you off of him and straight into the large body of water. You were sure that your scream probably reached Tartarus itself as it definitely exceeded your lung capacity. The last thing you remember screaming out was 'I'm going to kill you', but those words had died on your tongue in a speed as you fell deep into the river with a splash, causing everyone near you to run out in shock.

You could hear some laughing and clapping as you melted into the water, but it all started dissolving until all you could hear were gurgles and distorted noises. You felt yourself begin to struggle while you flapped your arms around, trying to stay afloat. You were sure that you were going to die when no magical breathing miracles saved you from suffocating and drowning.

You flapped your hands and feet harder, attempting to mimic swimmers, hoping that you'll somehow take up swimming naturally despite never learning to do so for your entire life. The irony of being a daughter of Poseidon that can't swim isn't lost on you, it is exactly why you never told anyone about it. If they knew, you'd be the joke of the camp.

A solid minute has surely pass before you gave up completely in ever swimming back up, now the doubt that you were ever Poseidon's child begins to creep in on your last moments of being alive. Because surely, even if you can't swim, your father could just magically pop you back up.

Unless he is just severely disappointed in your lack of ability and deems you fit to die instead of just humiliating him. And at this very moment, you honestly would agree with him.

Your last conscious thoughts are interrupted abruptly when you felt a strong push of ripple plunging into the river, you could barely open your eyes as you continued to sink in, but the sight of a recognizable face, diving straight your way, woke you back up from the dead.

You weren't sure how to feel as sharp and hollow pain began attacking your chest while you watched the brunette swim fiercely, her hair moving wildly like strong waves hitting shore.

Her right arm circles your waist as her left one slipped under your arm, urging you to grab onto her. And grab onto her you did.

She pulled you with her easily, her hold on you firm as she swam back up. Your head throbbed at the sudden fast movement, but once your head rises out of the water and you're able to breathe again, it slowly fades away, leaving you dizzy and grateful.

"There you are." Clarisse exhaled. She sounded relieved as she gathered you into an embrace, making sure you stay afloat. "Don't pass out, stay with me for just a little more."

I'm not passing out, you wanted to argue, even at this second. But the only thing that escaped your lips is a groan of agony. "Stupid fucking imbeciles." She cursed under her heavy breathing. You almost assumed it was targeted towards you until you noticed the plural nouns added in her sentence.

"I can't-" you started, "don't say anything." Clarisse interjected in a stern tone.

Your body was limp when you both finally reached land. Everyone moved away, letting you lie down against a large boulder. You felt Clarisse's hands slowly slip away from your skin, though she's still hovering over you with a worried gaze.

"Make way!" Chiron's voice thundered through the air. Clarisse turned a deaf ear at his command and stayed by your side, but for whatever reason, he didn’t reprimand her for it.

"Who's smart idea was it to toss your friend off into the river?" Chiron asks, scanning the confused and surprised crowd of people for any guilty faces.

Luke raises his hand, unafraid but apologetic. "I didn't know she can't swim." He stated honestly, and you hear some of the other campers agreeing with him.

Clarisse's eyes remained locked on yours. You wait for any sign of mockery to appear, a hint of condescending somewhere waiting to come out, but none appears.

You could hear Chiron sighing tiredly, "Well, no one did." And he's right, what Luke did was supposed to be a harmless joke. It is unexpected that you of all people would not know how to swim. Clarisse breaks her gaze from you as she turns towards Chiron. "They didn't have to know that she can't swim to be able to see that she was drowning." Clarisse snapped, her brows furrowed together. Before the situation could end up worse than it already has, you waved your arm up and yelped in pain. "I think I'm going to pass out." You lied.

"I can get her back to the tent back there." Clarisse offered, or stated moreso. Chiron granted her permission with argument, and with that the whole crowd dissolves back into the space the same way they were before, only some spared you some glances as Clarisse helped you walk slowly towards the small tent that's slightly further from the river.

The walk back was quiet, neither of you are brave enough to start a civil conversation. It was only after she had helped you sit criss crossed inside the tent and was ready to leave that you managed to insert a small thank you. She paused in her steps and slowly whirled around to face you. "I'm teaching you how to swim when we get back." She says as a response.

It was neither a threat or an offer. Taking your silence as an agreement, Clarisse nods her head once and walked off towards her siblings, leaving you distracted and deep in thought about what just

---

It was a paradoxical situation, and yet neither of you had it in yourselves to point it out.

Perhaps amiability towards Clarisse wasn't as difficult as you'd thought it would be. But your biggest concern wasn't regarding yourself, it regarded Clarisse and her own capability of remaining amiable towards you.

She was never one to practice self restraint. Everyone in the whole camp could vouch for that. And yet here she is, knee deep in the sea with her hands holding onto your wrists, ushering you in.

"You can't stay on the shallow level forever, you need to get in deeper." She repeated for the fourth time, frustration was visible on her face.

"No, I'm telling you I can't-" you argued. Clarisse sighed in annoyance, "I'm not going to let go!" She insisted. "Yes you will, I know this trick." You glared at her like an upset child.

Her anger almost diffused as you saw a hint of humor painting over her face, as if she's trying not to laugh in your face. "I'm not tricking you, I don't waste time on tricks. If I wanted to hurt you somehow I would've just shoved you in and left." She explained in a pleading tone.

"That's very reassuring." You responded sarcastically, trying to pull away from her, but her grip was strong. "Stop acting like a child." Clarisse chided.

Your eyes widened in offesne before you started pulling your arms harder to get her off of you. "Stop it!" Clarisse yelled out, her patience thinning. You said nothing and continued to drag your feet backwards, little movements were made as Clarisse was weighing you down like a log. "Let go of me." You demanded through gritted teeth.

Her face contorted in anger, and just as you began pulling again, she let go of you completely, "fine."

Unprepared for the push of gravity, your feet slipped against the mix of rock, seashells and water, making you fall on your back, squealing in panic. You flailed your arms around trying to balance yourself up, and just before your back would be plunged down, Clarisse scrambled to wrap her arms around your back, saving you from your fall.

"Oh my god." You gasped out, palms over her shoulders. "No god," she replied dryly. "Just me."

Relief enters your chest as your feet are flat against the ground again. But it was temporary, looking at her smug expression compelled you to act as stupid as you just did, shoving her off strongly, you didn't take into account that she was still holding you, and so as she crashed, you followed along on top.

"Oh my fucking god." Clarisse growled loudly spitting up water as you crawled off of her to stand up. "You did not just do that." Sitting up, she scowled and stared down at you, looking like an angry soggy kitten with her hair and face wet.

"Well, I did. What are you going to do about it?" You snarled, wiping water off of your face. "Hey, I am not a child throwing a tantrum like you." She snapped back.

"Oh, that would be a first time for you." You scoffed at her words and walked out on her.

"Where are you going?" You heard her call out. "Away from all this bullshit." You could hear her quickly running after you, water splashing loudly as she moved.

"Look, do you think I want to do this?"

You twisted your head around to meet her gaze. "Then don't!"

"Okay." She breathed out, shrugging like it didn't matter. "But it's clear right now, that everyone knows your weakness. And not even your own father has your back right now. I'm the only one who does."

The fire in you refused to die down, but her words reduced you to ashes. Your shoulders relaxed and you took her appearane in.

She's right, your whole life, everyone had given up on you, except for yourself. You taught yourself everything and you fought to survive daily from the horrors of being a forbidden child. And this one thing, which happens to be the worst weaknesses of all considering your position, is something you can't teach yourself to do. Hell, you couldn't even bring it up without feeling like shit.

But now it's all out in the open. The jokes might be bad, but what's worse is getting hunted down and killed in ease by monsters and gods who knew that you'd have no one to protect you, not even your dad.

"Why do you care?" You ask sincerely.

She was silent for a while, looking away immediately. Not embarrassed, just deep in thought.

"I don't know, maybe I just...I know what it's like. To feel helpless, to have to pick yourself back up. And normally I don't give two shits about what anyone else feels. But I know you, and you know me. And maybe-" She inhaled deeply and finally turned to face you.

"Maybe we can help each other."

You raised a brow, "and why would you need my help, you could, I don't know, take over the world if you wanted to."

She actually smiled at that, something you rarely see and hope you would do more of. "I know it's hard to believe, but I'm not perfect."

"So, what? Are we friends now?" You ask.

She shrugged her shoulders again, "Let's start with that, sure. Now, if you can get your ass back in here, I promise I won't drown you or anything, and you can actually learn how to swim like you should've years ago?"

You took a deep breath, wincing at the idea.

"It's not as hard as you think, I know it's terrifying to think of yourself in a position where you have no control." She attempts harder, stretching out her hands towards you.

"If I drown-" you started and was quickly cut off. "You won't. I got you."

If she had uttered this sentence to you about two days ago, you would've laughed because you couldn't imagine a situation where she would have your back. But today is a different day.

[vnti-vntiety-recs]

The Harder I Fall (M)

★  PAIRING: Toxic Ex! Haechan x Toxic?Reader

☆ WORD COUNT: 9.5K

★ GENRE(S): Smut, Angst, Drama, Ex2Lover

☆ SUMMARY: You find it hard to return to your normal day-to-day life after you break up with your ex, Haechan. He makes it his duty to make your life a living hell in order to see you. You're not sure why you thought it would be a good idea to date your cute punk rock neighbor, but you are soon to regret it.

★ ☆ WARNINGS: Swearing. Various acts of sexual intercourse. Unprotected sex. Unwanted creampie. Dubcon. Spit. Light choking, Brief mention of drinking. Kinda manipulation on hyuck’s part to get readers attention? Reader got commitment issues. Probably a bad description of punk rock band idk brah. MDNI

☆★ NOTES: this is the final installment of THE POISON ARCHIVES, this one is not as toxic as the other ones but still has toxic elements so beware 

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧

♫₊˚."Rehashing these feelings Swallowing the pain"♫₊˚.

You don't know why you thought it was a good idea to date someone who lives in the same apartment complex as you. You wish you would have thought this through when you said yes to your next-door neighbor's proposal when he suggested that you two start dating. Because now that you two have broken up, you are stuck seeing him every day.

When you return from work, you can never seem to avoid him, always catching him on the way up to your apartment. If that wasn't awkward enough, you have to listen to him bring girls home every other night. You don't think your relationship ended on bad terms, but he thinks differently. You know he does because on the nights when he doesn't have someone screaming his name, a constant reminder of the person you want to forget, he is blasting music at frequencies you can't drown out. Ever since you two broke up, your ex-boyfriend Haechan has been a pain in the ass. He makes it his duty to make your life a living hell. He knows your schedule, so he knows exactly when to bother you. Tonight is one of those nights. You had come from work late as usual, and all you wanted to do was lay in bed and sleep.

Not on Haechan’s watch

Haechan is blasting old 90s rock music when you're walking up the stairs to your apartment. You internally groan as you fish out your keys from your pocket, unlocking your door, and you try to stay positive. Today has been a good day for you so far, and you wanted to keep it that way.

"At Least he doesn't have someone over," you think in return. You would much rather listen to old rock music than some random girl's high-pitched moaning and the repeated banging of the headboard against the wall. Sometimes you wonder if that's what your other neighbors had to go through when you and Haechan were together. You head for the shower and pray that by the time you get out, he's getting ready for bed. It's already 12 a.m.; he should be tired by now.

The reason you and Haechan were able to get close in the first place was because you both were night owls. You both worked late and always returned home at the same time. You would catch him in the parking lot as you two made your way home. Sometimes he would invite you over, and you two would talk about work and whatever else crossed your mind at 1 a.m. Through these late-night convos You found out that Haechan was just his nickname; your handsome neighbor's name was actually Donghyuk. You also learned that he was in a band that primarily made its income through gigs at bars and other small venues, and that Haechan was the name he used on stage. Although everyone called him Haechan, you thought his real name was cute and couldn't help but give him a nickname based on it. When you first started calling him Hyuck, he hated it, but it grew on him. You enjoyed your late-night chats with Haechan, and you wanted to see more of him, so when one night he asked you out on a date, you couldn't say no. After that, you two started to see each other more often and began to date.

You were in a relationship with Haechan for five months before you broke up with him. You were having to work a lot more overtime to pay the bills, and you just didn't have time for a relationship anymore. You thought Haechan would understand and that things would be cool between you two, but obviously not.

After you exited the shower, his music was still blasting, and you could practically feel the bass rattling your bones. How has he not been evicted by now? Did your other neighbors just not have ears, or maybe yours were just too sensitive? You wrap yourself securely in your robe and march over to his doorstep. You bang on his door repeatedly for at least a minute before he answers. Haechan swings the door open, meeting your gaze with one that matches your level of annoyance. How dare he act like you're inconveniencing him when he's the one keeping the entire neighborhood awake!

"I know you're a struggling artist and all, but you at least own a clock, right?" You deadpan with a quirk of your eyebrow.

"Of course I do. How else would I know what time to piss you off?" He smiles sarcastically.

You absolutely hate this little back-and-forth that you have going on with him. You know he does this to get your attention so that you come charging over here and bang down his door. He just wants to see you, and you hate to give him what he wants, but you know it's the only way to get him to turn down the music.

"Pls Hyuck I have work tomorrow, and it's late. I just want to sleep," you plead with him exasperatedly.

"What do I get in return?" He asks, looking down at you through his bangs. He must have just finished a show because his eyes were still smothered in smokey black liner.

"I won't file a noise complaint; It's my third one this week. Didn't the landlord say they would kick you out if I complained again?" He knows they're empty threats, but he's gotten what he wanted, so he lets them go.

"Since you asked so nicely. I'll do it just this once," he says, shutting the door in your face, and in the next few seconds, the music is lowered to a bearable hum through the walls. Once you play his little game, he's always kind enough to reward you, as he always has. When you return home and find it quiet enough to sleep.

Haechan knew the first thing you would do when the two of you broke up was try to avoid him at all costs, but he wasn't going to let that happen. He's always making excuses to have to see you. Sometimes, when he's not at home and he knows you will be, he asks you to grab a package for him or groceries that he ordered so that you can bring them to him later. Other times he will knock on your door, asking to borrow a few eggs or your hammer—anything he can think of that he knows you have. You have already come to accept the fact that you can't get rid of him, but that doesn't stop you from trying.

It's been a few days since the music incident, and miraculously, you haven't seen him around. Lately, you can hear him getting home just a few minutes ahead of you. He must have been too tired to bother you lately; either that or he's matured past his little pranks. You think tonight is another night that you're in the clear. When you arrive home, you don't see Haechan’s car in the parking lot. You don't want to run into him, so you rush up the stairs to your apartment. You giddyly look for your house keys, thinking you finally got one over on him, when you realize they are missing from your keyring. The keyring is old and bent out of shape, so the key must have slipped off during the day. You were horrified; you were beyond tired and in desperate need of a nice warm shower. You let out a huff of annoyance. You could stay at your friend's house for the night, but she lives 30 minutes away, and you don't think you can get behind the wheel of a car without immediately driving off the nearest cliff.

You were already having a rough day, and this was the icing on the cake. Before you can wrack your brain for a solution, an even bigger problem presents itself. Haechan returns home with his bass strapped to his back and his hair a wild mess. He must have returned from band practice, probably getting into another fight with one of his members. He meets your eyes with a tired smile.

"You look like shit," you comment before you can stop yourself.

"I think you meant hello; how was your day?" He rolls his eyes as he reaches his door. He begins fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket when he turns to you again. "Why are you sitting here?" he questions with a quirk of a brow.

"I think the air is fresher during this time," you say mockingly.

 "Oh really? Well, have fun with that princess," he smirks as he finally unlocks his door, letting himself inside.

He leaves you outside. Curse you and your big mouth. Would it kill you to be nice? You really didn't want to ask, but you really had no choice. You worked a double shift today, and your body was on the brink of collapse. You knew what he wanted; he wanted you to come crawling to him for a favor so he could hold it over your head, and you really didn't want to give into his games, but just like always, you had no choice. After 10 minutes of contemplation, you knock on his door softly. A few seconds pass before he opens the door.

"What? Is the air not fresh enough?" He mocks, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed.

"Look, I'm sorry for earlier, but I'm locked out, and today has not been my day. Can I stay over?" You plead. 

Hmm, maybe you should ask a little nicer, and I'll consider it. '' That bastard was definitely getting a kick out of this. What was his redeeming quality again?

"Please, hyuck, just do me this one favor; I promise I'll pay you back." You gritted your teeth.

"You better keep your promise," he says as he opens the door wider for you to come in. "You already know where everything is to make yourself comfortable; I'm gonna hop in the shower." He leaves you to go grab what he needs as you take off your shoes to follow him to his room.

You sat your things down on the nightstand by his bed. "I don't mind sharing a bed with you; just stay on your side, get it?" You look at him with an accusatory glare.

Haechan raises his hands in defense with a smile as he walks backwards into the bathroom. He doesn't say anything more and shuts the door behind him. You busy yourself and go through his drawers to find a comfy shirt and a pair of his boxers. You grab a towel from the towel closet and wait your turn for the shower. You scroll on your phone as you wait. When Haechan finally exits, he's wearing a plain white shirt and his boxers. Even in the simplest of clothes, he looks so good. You distract yourself with your phone again, hoping he doesn't catch you staring at him as he dries his hair in the mirror.

"Did you leave me some hot water?" you question, knowing that he probably used it all just to get on your nerves. He always liked it when you got angry at him.

"Of course, what kind of host would I be if I didn't?" he says as he plops down next to you on the bed. "I also thought of a way you can repay me," he says, looking up at you with a smug look on his face.

"If it's something perverted, absolutely not," you say as you stand to get in the shower.

"It's innocent, I promise," he laughs.

You don't hear him as you shut yourself inside his bathroom, turning on the water. You knew Haechan’s definition of innocence was definitely far from normal. This wasn't good. Sleeping in the same bed as your ex? Especially one that loves tormenting you, was not a smart move. You knew he was up to no good the moment you saw him come up the stairs. He looked tired, but as soon as he laid eyes on you, you could see a fire ignite behind them.

You finish freshening up and sport the clothes you stole from his drawer. When you join him on the bed, he's scrolling on his phone. When he lowers his phone and stares at you with a quirked eyebrow, you finally take notice of how close you were to him. It was a force of habit. Your body was just naturally drawn to him like a magnet. You scoot back a bit with a sheepish smile and a nervous laugh. He sets his phone down and shakes his head. He reaches over, looping an arm around your waist and pulling you into his chest.

"You know better than to run from me, love," he smirks.

Him and that stupid smirk! It was like it was permanently etched onto his stupidly smug face. The stupidly smug face that you fell in love with—the stupidly smug face you're trying so hard not to kiss

"Don't call me that," you hesitantly whisper.

"But you get to call me Hyuk?" He retaliated. He rests his forehead against yours while you hold eye contact.

He had a point; it wasn't fair that you got to call him your favorite nickname when you two were together, but he couldn't. It just felt too intimate to you, though.

"Should I call you Haechan?" You start, but he cuts you off.

"Can we just stay like this? Just for tonight, can you let me pretend that you're mine again?" he whispers, a breath away from your face. He didn't mind you calling him Hyuck; it was the only proof he had left that you still loved him. If you called him Haechan, he had nothing else to hold onto.

"I don't think that's a good idea." You hesitate.

"Please, you owe me, remember? Let me just hold you like this just for tonight." Haechan is often one to make jokes, but at this moment he is as serious as ever.

You sigh in defeat. Owing Haechan a favor is never good, but this was a pretty tame request for him. You just didn't know the effect it might have on your heart later. As usual, you ignore the possible consequences and agree. He leans in and pecks the corner of your mouth, holding his lips there for a second longer than necessary.

"Hey, you said we would only cuddle!" You reprimanded him.

"Let me have just a little more, ok? I promise I'll be good to you from now on. No more loud music," he bargains.

You should have known he would have been content with just cuddling. Haechan was always an affectionate lover, and he always needed to feel all of you to be satisfied. His pecks trail from your cheek to your jaw, and when they reach your neck, they blossom into kisses. At this point, you're breathless and squirming. His arm that was around your waist unwraps itself, so he can use his hand to massage your lower back. His slow, passionate kisses turn wet and sloppy when he grabs your ass. He can't help the groan that escapes his mouth at the feeling. At this point, you wanted to feel more of him. You knew he wouldn't touch you like you wanted, though, Not until you asked. Even when he was the one who started it, he couldn't help but have you begging for him.

He pushes your shirt up past your chest as His kisses move lower, leaving hickeys in his wake. You try to hold on; you really do, but when he ventures even lower to leave kisses near your navel and then to the tops of your thighs, you crack.

"Hyuck… just a little more."

"Just a little more?" He repeats your words back to you. You bite your lip and nod your head. "You want me to touch you more, pretty? I thought we were only going to cuddle?" He questions spreading your legs so he can lay between them.

"Just a little farther; it's ok if we go just a little bit farther," you relent.

"If that's what my princess wants," Haechan pulls your shorts swiftly from your core and settles back down. He looks into your eyes once more to make sure it was really okay, and when you let out a moan and buck your hips into his face, he knows you can't bear to wait any longer. Haechan licks a fat stripe from the heat of your core to your clit and showers it in gentle kisses.

"Please... more," you cry.

"So greedy!" Haechan tsks at you and finally sucks your clit into his mouth.

He can't hold himself back anymore and begins to eat you out like he really means it, wrapping his arms around your thighs to hold you down. He's making a mess as he spits onto your pussy, adding to the slickness. Before you know it, he's fucking his tongue deep into you, moaning at the taste. Your chest is heaving at this point, and you can't help but grab his hair and try to fuck his face. You roll your hips deep into his mouth, practically riding his nose as it bumps against you, clit at your movements.

He pulls away, and before you can even moan out a complaint, he's bringing two fingers to your entrance and slowly penetrates you with them, holding eye contact as he hums a sound of approval at how well you take his fingers. He licks his lips clean as he fucks his fingers into you faster. You pull his hair again, but this time you're pulling him up so you can kiss him. It's the first real kiss you've shared since the breakup, and it's all teeth and tongue as he's knuckle-deep in your pussy. You moan into his mouth as he sucks on your tongue. He pulls away to look at you with heavy lids; a single string of saliva connects you and breaks when he licks his lips.

"You gonna let me fuck you, baby?"

"Hyuck, we really shouldn't be doing this," you slur.

"Just the tip, I promise."

"You also promised just cuddles."

"We are cuddling, extreme cuddling, '' he jests. You've already crossed the line with him, so what's the harm in indulging a little more?

"Just the tip," you say with a nod, pulling him into another messy kiss.

You pull off his shirt and push his boxers down past his hips, and he takes them off the rest of the way. His length slaps against his stomach in all of its glory, and you know you're fucked. There's no way you'll be satisfied with just the tip. You haven't had him in so long, and he's so long. He always made sure to fuck you so that you’d never forget the feeling. He filled you up just right and knew how to make sure you felt every inch of him. He guides his tip to your entrance and coats it in your slick, letting it trail up and down your slit, prodding your entrance. He lazily thrusts forward, making his length slip up and nudging you clit. He did this a few more times, knowing it would drive you up a wall. You wrap your legs around his waist, threatening to pull him closer.

"Just the tip, baby, remember?" He reminds you that you're the one who suggested this stupid idea in the first place.

You shoot him a glare, and before you can choose the right words to verbally abuse him, he's sliding in. He keeps his work and just fucks his tip into you, using his hand to act as a barrier so he couldn't slip father into you. He pushes in, and when he pulls out, he smacks the head of his cock against your pussy creating a wet sound from how drenched you are. He repeats it a couple of times before fucking his tip back into you.

You notice that the longer he fucks you, the lower his hand slides down his cock as he sneakily fucks more into you with each thrust. You don't even think he notices because, when you look up at him, his lip is caught between his teeth. He looks like he's concentrating so hard to not slip more. After a few more thrusts, his hand is gone completely, and he's fucking deep into you.

"You liar," you smile. You knew he couldn't do it from the beginning, but you admire his perseverance. You reward him by clamping your walls down on him. He lets out a shaky whine and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry," and the look he gives you genuinely reflects remorse, but not because of what he did but because of what he's about to do.

He roughly unhooks your legs from around his waist and manhandles you onto your arms and knees just to shove you down onto your chest so that your ass is the only thing stuck in the air. He reenters swiftly and fucks you from behind. He's snapping his hips deep into you; it's almost too much. You reach your hand back to rest on his hips, and he grabs onto it and pins it to your lower back.

"Come on love, I know you can take it; fuck me like you mean it," he groans.

He's almost as fucked out as you are; no one else can ever make him feel like you do. He struggles to keep his eyes from rolling to the back of his head when you fuck back into him with a vengeance. He told you to fuck him, so you do. You throw your hips back into him so hard that he stops moving. He's trying his hardest to pull himself together, but all he can do is take it. Mouth agape as he moans at the feeling. You think you might have gotten the upper hand on him, but then he pulls out of you and flips you back onto your back, throwing a leg over his shoulder as he starts hitting deep again. At this point, he's gone. He's completely pussy drunk, and you can't see a thought behind his eyes as he drills into you.

 "Hyuck.. Don't forget to pull out," you moan, barely able to catch your breath.

If he can hear you, he sure doesn't show it; his pace doesn't let up, and he's pressing a hand against your lower stomach. He can feel himself inside of you and can only moan. Any previous worries you had are completely wiped from your mind as you tighten around him and release all over his cock. He fucks you through it, and when you meet his eyes again, you know he's about to cum. His brows are furrowed, and he's biting his lip so hard that you're surprised he hasn't drawn blood.

"Hyuck. Pull. out," you try to say sternly, but it comes out as more of a whine as the overstimulation sets in. Haechan shakes his head as his grip on your waist tightens. He can't think straight when you feel this good. At this point, he can't even control his moans as they spill out. He's close, and you do the only thing you can think of to snap him out of it.

You slapped him across the face.

You think you may have brought him back down to earth, but when he lets out a high-pitched moan, you know you're screwed, and not in a fun way. His hips stutter, and he's releasing deep inside you, hiding his face in the crock of your neck as he tries to ride out his high. Every weak thrust is accompanied by a pained moan from him as he continues to fuck you.

"No more hyuck!" You scold him and push on his shoulders. You pull his head back by his hair so he can meet your eyes. "Pull out," you glare.

He knows he messed up and finally pulls out. When he rolls over next to you, you slap and pinch his arms and chest.

"You're unbelievable! Just the tip, my ass!" You yell at him, and he's trying to roll away from you on the bed, but you follow him, continuing your assault.

"I'm sorry I got too carried away; I couldn't resist. Don't worry, I'll buy you a plan B first thing in the morning," he says with a flinch each time you attack him. You finally settle down with a huff and lay facing away from him.

"I know your memory sucks, but remember this was a one-time thing; after tonight we go back to normal," you mumble.

Haechan scoots closer to you and lays a soft kiss on your shoulder. Well, then let me savor this moment," he says in a whisper that you almost don't catch. He pulls you back into his chest and warps you up in his body, and you let him. As much as you want to be mad at him, Haechan is like a giant teddy bear; you always feel safe in his arms, and soon you're fast asleep.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･

The next morning, Haechan stays true to his word and goes to grab you a plan B as you wait for your landlord to give you a new key. When he returns, he finds his apartment empty. He assumes you were able to get into yours. He knocks on your door, and when you answer, he hands you the pills. You don't spare him a look or even a thank-you as you shut the door in his face again. Haechan may suck at keeping his word, but you don’t.

You were set on making sure you didn't cross the line with him ever again. During the week, he begins to notice your colder than usual behavior, so he goes back on his word about the loud music as well. You don't want to see him, so you try texting him instead. When you ask for him to turn the music down, this time he ignores you and leaves you on read. 

It's like you two are back at square one. You should be happy, but a part of you kind of hates the fact that you two have become bickering neighbors once again, this time worse than the last. You know Haechan is only acting like this because he's hurt. You confirm this when you sometimes catch him in the breezeway returning home from work, but he doesn't try to make small talk anymore; he looks more tired as the days progress. One day, you can't ignore the bags under his eyes any longer. You know you're the one who made him like this.

He returned home at the same time as you; you were always scheduled on the closing shift again, so when you arrive, Haechan is unlocking his door. You find the courage to speak.

"Hey, are you okay?" you ask, concern filling your voice.

"I'm fine," he sneers, pushing his door open. Before he can enter, grab his arm.

I'm worried about you. Have you been getting enough sleep?" You ask, trying to meet his eyes, but he's avoiding eye contact. He snatches his arm away from you.

"Since when do you care what happens to me?! I thought you wanted me to stay away. Fuck. off," he snaps and slams his door in your face.

You know to let him cool off when he gets like this, so you decide to leave him be. Maybe you can catch him in a better mood tomorrow and ask. Before you can enter your apartment, you hear a loud thud from Haechan's apartment. You think maybe he dropped something, but the absolute silence that follows has you worried. You don't hear any footsteps or movement coming from the apartment, so you go to knock.

Hyuck, I'm sorry I upset you, but is everything okay in there?" You wait for a response, but nothing comes.

"Hyuck?.....if you're ok, please answer me." You twist the doorknob to his apartment and notice he left it unlocked.

When you open the door, you find him lying on the floor. His eyes were shut tight, and his chest was heaving. You rush over to his side to check on him. When you touch his skin, he's sweating heavily and burning up. He clearly has a fever.

Hyuck, I know you don't feel good, but we've got to get you to a hospital," you say, trying to help him to his feet.

"No, I'll be fine; I just need to lay down," he says, stumbling as he stands.

You help him to his room and lay him down. You help take off his shoes and change him into something more comfortable to sleep in other than his usual ripped skinny jeans and leather jacket. Once you get him settled in bed, you grab a towel and chill it in cool water so you can help cool him down. He's been up for half the night, tossing and turning from the uncomfortable heat of the fever. Eventually, he's able to cool down and enter a deep sleep. You stay by his side all night and call into work once morning comes. When Haechan wakes up the next morning, he finds you asleep by his side and feels terrible. He knows how much you hate missing work and feels bad that he was the reason why. He gently shakes you awake. Once you're up, you immediately reach for his forehead. He's still a bit too warm for your liking, so you hop out of bed.

"Where are you going?" he asks.

"I'm gonna grab you some soup, and you're still running hot, so I'm going to grab you some ice." Before you can get too far, he grabs your arm.

"Thank you for staying with me, but I promise I can take care of myself."

"I've already called out of work today; you might as well let me take care of you," you counter.

He lets your arm go and falls back into the sheets. In truth, he still felt terrible; he was having a hard time even trying to sit up. He's been feeling a little under the weather for a few days now, but he's been able to persevere through it. His body must have just given up on him at this point. When you return, you have an ice pack and some chicken soup. You helped him sit up and fed him since he still seemed really weak. After you made sure he ate, you tucked him back into bed and set the towel on his head. You turned on his TV and put it at a low volume so as not to give him a headache, and you binge-watched a few shows as he fell back asleep.

It's around 9 p.m., and he's still heavily sleeping when you're bored of the shows you've been watching on Netflix. You decide to straighten up around the house a bit. Haechan isn't particularly dirty, but he hasn't had the time to properly clean up in a while due to his schedule. He has band rehearsals during the day and is booked for gigs at night. When he's not with the band, he's out partying. He only ever returns in the dead of night.

When you two were together, though, Haechan made an effort to make more time for you. He showed up late to rehearsals, stopped partying, and even turned down a few well-paying gigs to spend more time with you. You, on the other hand, refused to call off work. You were constantly working overtime, and you made no effort to make time for him. He tried really hard to be understanding; he was happy with the time he got to spend with you; he knew you had a lot of bills to pay, and he did too. At one point, he realized it wasn't enough; if you truly loved him, you would want to make time for him and make an effort. All he wanted was to know that you loved him, so he asked you to take more time off so you guys could go on more dates. When you agreed, he was content. You were finally making time for him; you must love him. He thought everything was going well until you broke up with him. You told him he was a distraction from work and that you didn't have the time for a relationship at the moment. He was heartbroken. He tries to take it back; he tells you that it's ok that you don't see each other, but you insist that he should be with someone who has more time for him. You said it wasn't fair to him. That's how your relationship became what it was.

You think you let him go out of love; he thinks you gave up on him.

You finish cleaning around 11 p.m. and go next door to your place to grab some more of your stuff. You grab your skin care essentials, body wash, and a new pair of clothes. You set up your things in his bathroom as you shower. It was bringing back memories of when you used to be together. You were always at his place and kept a lot of your stuff there. You shower, and when you get out, you start your skin care routine. While looking in the mirror, you can't help but reminisce about the old memories.

You finish up and return to his side. You checked his temperature again with the thermometer you got from your apartment. He was able to kill his fever. You figure his body is just catching up on all the missed sleep from the past couple of days. You don't want to disturb him, so you exit the room and lay on his couch. You stare at the ceiling.

How did it become like this? Since the last time you saw him, feelings that you previously thought had died have come back full force. That's why you were so bent on avoiding him at all costs. You were already confused, and being near him would only muddle your feelings more. You didn’t want to listen to your heart; you wanted to listen to logic. No matter how much you missed him, it would not work out. You couldn't afford to think with your heart; you didn't want to hurt him again, but it seemed the more you pushed him away, the harder he fell for you.

What was that saying? Absence makes the heart fonder. Well, whatever it was, it had you running laps in your mind, trying to escape thoughts of him. All you could think about was Haechan. If you're being honest, your job wasn't the only reason you pushed Haechan away. You were a little scared; you had never cared for someone as much as you did for Haechan. Your other relationships always ended before things got too serious, and you were afraid that this one would end up like the others. You were afraid of being hurt by him. You didn't want him to leave you, so you left first. You hurt him before he could get the chance to hurt you. You were a coward, and it seemed like you would stay that way forever.

You don't know when you fell asleep, but you wake up to the smell of coffee and breakfast. You sit up and feel the weight of a cover as it pools around your waist at your sudden movements. You don't remember grabbing one last night.

"Hyuck?" You call out, half asleep.

"Sorry for all the trouble I caused you, but I'm feeling better now," he reassures you as he sets a plate of food down on the coffee table in front of you.

You smile at him gently and reach for the food. "I'm glad to hear that." Silence falls between the two of you as you both eat. Once you're done, you clean up the mess you left behind and turn to him once again. "Well, I should get going," you say awkwardly.

"You can stay if you want," He says hopefully.

"No, I think I've already overstayed my welcome."

"You're always welcome."

"Hyuck…please" 

He runs his hand across his face, trying to collect his emotions, and says, "You know what? Do whatever you want; I don't care anymore." Even though this is what you wanted, it still hurts to hear him say it. You quietly leave and return home.

:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.::･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･

Tonight, you're going out for the first time in a long time. Your friend Jungwoo was finally able to convince you to take a night off. He even offers to pay you for any hours that you miss. You reject his offer to pay you, but you do join him for a night out. After all this time, you deserve to relax a little. You can't just work until you die.

You and Jungwoo go clubbing, and you're having a great time. Haechan was right; you have to stop working so much and live a little. If you have to budget a little harder or even move into a smaller apartment, you think it's worth it if you get to spend less time at work and more time around the people you actually care about. You're sitting at the bar with Jungwoo when you hear a commotion behind you. At the back of the club was a stage. The club had strippers that put on shows some nights; tonight must have been one of those nights. That's what you think when you see people crowding around the stage, but when you see a band set up on the stage, you think that's highly unlikely.

"Oh god, please no," you silently pray.

Jungwoo turns once he realizes you're not paying attention to the story he's telling you. He follows your line of sight to the stage. "A band must be playing tonight," he says, taking a sip from his drink. Hey, didn't your ex used to... oh my god," he says as he finally catches up to speed with the situation. "You don't think..." he asks, turning to you again.

You pray and pray that it's not who you think it is when you see five silhouettes walk onto the dark stage. The band finally finishes setting up in the dark, and when the lights illuminate them in all their glory, you can't help but curse every god in existence.

Of course, it was The Neos.

"It's fucking him," you say, turning to Jungwoo with wide eyes.

Look, don't worry about him tonight; we came here to have fun, and seeing your hot ex isn't going to change that."

"Jungwoo!" 

"I'm sorry, look at him!"

look at him? You could barely take your eyes off of him! His messy hair is a little longer than the last time you saw him. His eyes were adorned with his signature black eyeliner, and he was wearing simple black ripped skinny jeans and a baggy t-shirt. His fingers were littered with rings, and he was wearing his favorite bracelet. When you looked closely, you spotted a silver lip piercing sitting pretty against his plump, heart-shaped lips.

"Wanna get closer?" Jungwoo suggests you can only nod your head, still distracted by your ex’s new look.

You get closer to the stage, and he looks even more delectable up close. You're so terrible. You pushed him away all those times just to imagine pulling him closer to you under different circumstances. This was your first time ever hearing him play with his band. He’s played you a few songs before at home, but you never made time to actually see him play at a gig. He was amazing; he was truly born to be on stage.

As the band played, the crowd got bigger and more lively, jumping to the music. You almost forgot you were at a club and not a concert. Reality comes crashing back down on you when you lock eyes with Haechan. You immediately stop dancing, and it's like the entire world slows down. The flashing strobe lights and the bodies around you all move in slow motion as you're locked into this moment with Haechan. You can't hear anything; all you can see is Haechan. His eyes don't leave you for a few more moments, but when they finally do, it's like the spell is broken.

Everything begins to move again, and you can hear the music blaring, but you're still rooted to your spot on the floor. Jungwoo turns to look at you to ask if you're okay, and that's when you notice the band has wrapped up their last song. The crowd is starting to thin out when you see him jump down from the stage with the bass still hanging from his shoulders. When Jungwoo doesn't get a response from you, he turns to see where your eyes are looking.

"Oh shit he's coming this way." Jungwoo tries to be a good friend and pull you away, but it's too late.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a bit?" Haechan says it loud enough to be heard over the music of the club that resumed playing after their set.

"I don't think..." Jungwoo starts before looking at you for reassurance.

"It's ok, Woo, I'll just be a minute, ok?" You say this as you finally manage to pull yourself together.

"Are you sure?" he hesitates.

"Positive, I'll text you when I'm ready, ok?" You say this before following Haechan to the back of the club. He's guiding you through the back halls of the club when you two finally reach the spare room the band was using to store their extra equipment. Everyone was already packing up.

"Hey, we're heading out—oh, who's this?" the one with the pink hair says.

"This is my ex," Haechan somewhat introduces you.

‘Hello ex. I’m Jaemin," he flirts with a smile.

"Cut it out Jaem, before he punches you again," said a smaller male with messy brown hair.

"I'm just messing around Renjun. We all know he still loves his ex; he won't shut up about her." Jaemin laughs,adjusting a gig bag over his shoulder.

"Im going to fucking kill you." Before Haechan can make a move forward, another male finally speaks up; this one was probably the buffest next to Jaemin. He grabs a hold of Haechan's arm.

Guys, cut it out. Mark is already waiting for us in the van. Come on before he leaves us again."

"Jen's right, let's go. They obviously want to be alone," the one they called Renjun said.

The boys clear out the room supplies in tow, leaving the room almost as barren as when they arrived, save for you two still occupying the space. Haechin heaves a big sigh, his cheeks still tinted pink with embarrassment. "I'm sorry about them; they just like to tease me," he tries to cover up.

You nod, trying to help him change the subject. "You guys were amazing tonight. I knew you were good at playing, but hearing you with a band was incredible," you gush.

Haechan can't fight the huge smile that takes over his face. "That means a lot." An awkward silence falls between you two as you run out of things to say.

"So you wanted to talk to me?" You rock back and forth on your heels nervously.

"Honestly, I didn't really have anything to say; I just wanted to see you again."

It's been a hot minute since the last time you saw Haechan. Lately, you have been completely missing him in the parking lot and in the breezeway. He stopped playing loud music completely, and if he was bringing home girls, you couldn't hear them anymore. It's almost like the apartment next to you is empty.

Well, here I am," you say with an awkward smile.

A few beats pass, and he finally speaks again. "I see you came out with Jungwoo. What? Are you two together now?" He says it a bit bitterly.

"Oh god, Hyuck, don't start; you know I don't do relationships."

"So you're fucking him?"

"I didn't say that!"

Well, what is it then? He can convince you to take off work for a night out, but I couldn't even get you to spare me a few hours of your time?"

"Hyuck, you know that's not true! Look, I didn't come here to argue, ok?" You yell exasperatedly.

"Come home with me," he states. It's not really a question.

"I'm out with someone right now." You look away from him.

He stands in front of you now, "still too busy to fit me into your schedule?"

You remain silent.

"Too busy for me, but never too busy to take my cock like a fucking slut," he sneers.

"Go to hell," you say, pushing him away from you.

"What. Am I wrong? The only time you spent with me was when we were fucking. Let's be real." The usual warmth isn't behind his eyes anymore; they are almost as cold and steely as the lip ring that adorns his lip.

You're such a fucking jerk; I broke up with you because I knew I couldn't provide you with the attention you so desperately crave all the time. I kept it real with you from the beginning! I could have strung you along, but I ended it before it got too serious." At this point, you're fuming.

Oh, yeah, right! I'm sick of hearing your excuses; you knew your schedule from the moment you said yes. You knew what you were signing up for. Just admit it. You're scared of commitment; you were scared of it getting too serious."

You feel called out because he was 100% right. "Fuck you, Haechan."

"I bet you would love to, princess," he spits back.

You both stare at each other, chests heaving from anger. "Tell him you're not going back with him."

"You can't seriously still be on tha-" Before you can finish your sentence, his lips are locked on yours.

One moment you're screaming at each other; the next you're ripping each other's clothes off. There was no way this was healthy, but you didn't care because Haechan was your favorite drug. He's pushing you back into the vanity in the corner of the room and lifting you onto the tabletop. You spread your legs, allowing him room in between. You can feel his hard length through the tight fabric of his pants. You feel The cool metal of his lip piercing when you kiss him, and you can't help but imagine how it would feel on other, more intimate parts of your body. You grind against the front of his pants, trying to feel more of him as you breathe him in like he's the only air you need, until your lungs are screaming at you for air.

"You're no good for me, but I can't get enough," he mumbles between breaths.

Your fingers find purchase in his already messy hair as you use it to pull him towards you once again. You two continue to make out when your phone starts ringing in your back pocket. You try to ignore it, but Haechan can’t. He knows who's probably calling. He pulls away from you, biting into your bottom lip and tugging it with him until he lets go.

"Answer it," he demands. You try to pull him back into you, but he shrugs you off. "Answer it or I will," he threatens.

You want to test him, but the way he's looking at you makes you want to give him everything he's ever wished for. You decide to be his good girl tonight. You slip your phone from your back pocket and answer it.

"You good? It's getting late; we need to leave soon," Jungwoo voices through the phone speaker.

You hesitate with your response, trying to find your voice.

"Hellooo… Don't make me come find you." Jungwoo says you can hear him readjust his phone against his ear as he whispers sorry to someone, probably pushing through bodies looking around for you.

"Im good, Woo; go ahead and head home without me; I'm going to catch a ride with Hyuck.'' As you speak to Jungwoo on the other line, Haechan is peppering kisses up and down your neck, and you can't help but let out a few quiet, breathless moans.

"oh-OHH!" Jungwoo exclaims. "You're nasty; have fun and stay safe, bye!" Jungwoo hands up the phone upon realization of what's going on.

You drop your phone on the counter and continue where you left off. See, I can be good for you," you say.

"Only when you want something," he punctuates as he uses his teeth to snip at your neck.

Haechan knows you guys only have so much time before security comes around and makes sure they have vacated the room. They only have it for the duration of the time they booked the gig. He pulls you off the vanity and turns you around to face it. He flips up your skirt and pulls the neckline of your shirt down past your boobs, keeping you partially covered in case you have to cover up quickly. You met the eyes of your reflection, and you were able to see for the first time how fucked out you already looked. He hasn't even properly touched you, and you're already dripping down your thighs.

"Look at how pretty you are, angel. I want you to look at yourself as you take my cock. Don't you dare look away." Haechan lays a sweet kiss on the top of your head, and you know that's his promise to you that he's going to absolutely ruin you.

He makes quick work of his studded belt and pushes his jeans down past his waist. He pulls your panties to the side and quickly works in a finger. He stretches you until you seem ready enough to take him, so he frees himself completely and spits down onto his tip. He mixes his saliva with your juices as he strokes his tip through your wet folds. He doesn't hold back any longer and thrusts into you. You keep your promise and don't take your eyes off of your reflection. You can see the way your mouth drops at the way he fucks you deep, and you watch as your brows furrow up when he hits a particular spot inside you.

"Right there! Please don't stop!" You cry.

Haechan leans over your back and rests his chin on your shoulder, looking at you through the mirror. His movements slow as he uses precision to repeatedly bully the spot inside you that's making you see stars.

"Do you feel that love? No one else knows you like I know you; who else is gonna make you feel like this, huh, baby? Tell me." His eyes don't leave your face, and when you don't respond, he lands a harsh smack against one of your ass cheeks. "You can't fucking hear me? I said answer me!" he yells as he picks up his pace. He wraps his hand around your neck, and you can feel the cool metal of his rings against your skin.

 "No one! Only you can make me feel this good. Only you can fuck me like this. Fuck me until I can't remember my name," you rasp.

"That's my good girl," he whispers in your ear.

He tugs you back into him with the hold he has on your neck. Your back meets his chest as he fucks into you at a new angle. You can't hold on any longer, so you let go. You come all over his cock, and when he doesn't slow down for even a second, you feel your second high quickly approaching.

Hyuck, please, I can't take another one; I'll make a mess," you plead. You know this next one is going to be messy. You can feel the pressure building up in your stomach.

That's ok, baby; I want to drown in you; let go for me." And for the second time that night, you come again, but this time you're squirting, and it's dripping all onto the ground below you. "You're so fucking nasty," he says to you as he pushes you to your knees on the wet ground. A hand goes to your hair, and you can feel the sting as Haechan tugs your head back so that you can meet his eyes.

"Open your mouth, slut."

You do as you're told and stick your tongue out for him. He moans at the visual and slowly lets a trail of spit fall from his mouth into your awaiting one. When you swallow his spit, he can't help but be proud: "That's my good girl."

He guides his length into your mouth, and you choke on him before you know it. Mascara running down your face, spit covering your lips This is what Haechan wanted you to see: you made him a mess on the inside, but he was always going to ruin you on the outside. It's a shame you couldn't see it. He fucks your face, and you take it like a champ. You look up at him, and all you can see is infatuation. That's when you realize it. He was never going to let you go. He was going to keep forcing himself into your life, whether you liked it or not, because he was disgustingly in love with you. Even as you kneel on the floor of a dingy club, covered in your own release, choking on his dick, his eyes are filled with love. His brows furrowed, and he let out a long moan as he released down your throat. He's still feeling a little mean, so he pinches your nose and makes you gag. He holds your head down and fucks deep into your throat a few more times before letting you go.

Did he love you? Yes.

Was he above making you suffer a little bit? No.

You catch your breath as you look up at him. Before a word can be spoken between the two of you,a knock comes at the door. Security announces themselves and tries to open the door but finds it locked. You and Hyuck look at each other in fear as you scramble to dress yourselves properly.

"One second, we were still cleaning up," He calls to the door.

"You guys were supposed to be gone 20 minutes ago." The security guards' annoyed voice can be heard through the door.

"Sorry, dude, we will be right out."

"You guys have 5 minutes!" security yells before walking away.

You fix your hair in the mirror, and Haechan tries his best to clean up the mess on the floor with whatever he can find. "Come on, let's go home," he says as he grabs your hand as he guides you through the back halls of the club on to the main floor and to his car.

In a matter of 15 minutes, you're back at your shared apartment complex. You're making your way up the stairs when Haechan offers to properly clean you up. You had left some of your skin care products over at his place a while ago anyway, so you agree. He runs a bath for the two of you, and afterwards, while you remove your makeup, you also help him remove his eyeliner. He's sitting on the counter when you gently wipe his eye makeup away. The silence between you is no longer awkward but a comforting one. You decide to break the silence first.

"I thought about what you said before, and you're right; I was making excuses. I was afraid you would break my heart, so I decided to hurt you first." You switch to taking off the makeup on his other eye. "I'm sorry for that, but I realize now that you would never hurt me; no matter how hard I push you away, you will never leave me alone."

"You make me sound like a nuisance," he said, glaring playfully at you.

"Because you are," you peck him softly on the lips, "but I've decided I don't want to live hurting the people I love anymore. I want to try again with you. Will you accept me?"

Haechan has been waiting forever to hear those words again. "You love me?"

Yes, I love you, idiot. Is that all you heard?" you joke.

"I love you too," he responds with a kiss. "Do you promise not to run from me again?" He looks at you, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

"I promise, I'll never leave your side again". 

You finish removing his makeup, and you two set off to bed. This time, when you go to sleep in his arms, you don't dread the morning after; you know this is not a mistake. When the morning comes, you're going to be a new person and not the one that gives up on Haechan again and again; this time, you will love to the fullest.

[jaeyums]

Just One More (Part 1)

Pairings - Fratboy!Haechan x reader (lowkey x dreamies)

Word Count - 3k

Content Warning - smut (obvi), angst, slight corruption kink, dacryphilia, oral (f receiving), fingering, drinking, loss of virginity, Fratboy! Haechan (kinda), Toxic!Haechan, mentions of drowning (what??) pls Imk if I missed anything

Summary - You curse your new neighbours, partying what feels like every night, the booming bass making it impossible to sleep. Fed up, you finally ask them to turn it down, but when you're forced to make a seemingly harmless deal, things spiral faster than you ever could've imagined.

A/N - Ty all sm for the support on the teaser, its genuinely such a big motivator <3

previous | next

————————————————————————

Your alarm clock beeps, 4:45am glowing in red. You rub your eyes tiredly, crawling out of bed. It feels like time’s moving extra slow as you groggily go through your morning routine.

Finally ready for the day, you grab your work bag and red lifeguard shirt and head out the door to your opening shift at the pool.

Time goes by slowly and painfully, your tiredness making it difficult to pay attention to the early morning swimmers. You spent your time off deck doing some last minutes studying, though you doubt you actually retained any information.

The midterm was rougher than you had expected but you’re sure you’ve at least passed. You felt a slight weight lift off your shoulder as you hand it in, knowing reading break was right around the corner.

You finally arrive home, absolutely exhausted. You change into your lounge wear and instantly pass out on your couch.

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

You’re jolted awake, the sound of someone trying to break down your door booming through the apartment.

You scramble to get up, still drossy, as you shuffle your way to the door, grumbling.

“I’m coming, fuck, gimme a fucking second.”

You throw open the door angrily to reveal Haechan standing there.

“You didn’t forget about our deal did you?”

You throw a hand up to your forehead, it had completely slipped your mind. Plus you were so tired upon arriving home you didn’t even have a chance to think about it.

“And after we were so quiet last night too.”

He frowns, shaking his head in disappointment.

You had to admit they held up their side of the deal perfectly, and you weren’t trying to find out how loud they’d blast their music if you went back on this deal.

“Yeah no I’m coming, I just fell asleep.”

His face instantly lights up.

“Are you wearing that?”

He asks gesturing to your shorts and hoodie.

“Because honestly I wouldn’t mind, maybe just comb your hair a bit.”

You run your hands through your hair subconsciously but you quickly stop, annoyed when you catch yourself.

“No I’m not wearing this, just give me an hour to get ready.”

“Make it half.”

And with that he walks back to his apartment, leaving you to bask in your sorrow.

You run your hand through your hair again, checking it in the reflection of a nearby mirror. It did look really messy.

In all honesty, going to a party was the last thing you wanted do to right now, especially since your bed looked so welcoming. But if nothing else, you were a girl of your word, so you hopped into the shower.

The familiar sound of music blaring causes you to hesitate knocking on the door infront of you. You can’t even remember the last time you partied. Always going to school, studying, or working, you never had time to go out and have fun.

You debate turning back around and cozying up back in bed, your word be damned. You shift, turning back to leave, before realizing a boy is blocking your path.

He’s holding two packs of coolers, looking at you with a smirk.

“Where do you think you’re going? Pretty sure the party is that way.”

You sigh in defeat, and go to knock, but he interrupts your attempt.

“Do you really think they’ll hear you over the music? It’s open.”

You look back at him, his sharp eyes staring back in condescending confusion. He had this expensive aura to him that almost intimidated you.

When you don’t break eye contact, he leans forward, and you stumble back startled. He’s inches away from your face, his eyes still blaring into yours, when you hear the door open. You turn and realize he was leaning forward to open it.

He snickers and your reaction and walks past you, holding up the coolers in triumph.

“Let’s go Chenle!”

The boys shout upon his arrival. You feel so awkward, still standing in the door way, not sure if you should walk in or not.

You step inside as the door closes behind you. Taking in the party, you count around 30 people, clearly a smaller get together. Everyone seems to already know each other, your uncomfortably rising by the second.

You can’t help but look for Haechan, hoping to see some kind of a familiar face, despite the fact you two only properly met yesterday.

Your eyes finally landed on his tall figure, dressed in a nice black shirt and jeans. He’s leaned over a girl, whispering something in her ear. You watch as she blushes and squirms under his gaze as he pulls back to look at her.

The whole scene makes you feel off, so you decide to head towards where you imagine the bathroom is. Assuming the layout is similar to yours, you walk through a hallway with several doors lining it, which is way more doors than your hallway has.

You try your best to guess the right room, saying a small prayer before opening the door.

You’re met with the site of a boy sitting with his head titled back, this adams apple bobbing as he lets out a groan. Your eyes trail down to see and girl on her knees at the edge of the bed, her head between his legs.

He looks down slightly as he notices the now open door, and you peeking in. He bites his lip, scanning you up and down.

Breaking out of a trance you didn’t know you were in, you quickly close the door.

You back away from the door, your face scrunching in embarrassment, but your body is pressed against something before you’re able to get far.

Two hands land on your waist, holding you there, as Haechans face comes into view over your shoulder. His touch sends shivers up your spine.

“Whatcha looking for, princess?”

You can faintly smell a mix of alcohol and cologne as his breath tickles your ear. You try to move away but his grip tightens, restricting your movement.

“Relax, I was just looking for the bathroom.”

He lets out a laugh.

“That room definitely isn’t the bathroom, but I’m sure you’ve realized that by now, haven’t you.”

You narrow your eyes at him, silently hoping your cheeks aren’t as red as they feel, still hyperaware of his hand placement.

“Second door on the left.”

He finally lets go, as if giving you permission to leave. You nod at him as thanks and speed walk over to the second door on left.

You stand in front of the mirror, taking in your reflection. You actually pulled together quite well considering the day you had. Your hair and makeup complimented your features beautifully. Your outfit hugging your body in all the right places.

This is just a stupid party, no need to get so freaked out over people getting a little freaky, right?

Your mental pep talk is interrupted by someone walking into the bathroom, not noticing you at first.

You kick yourself for not locking the door, but the boy who just entered was unbelievably handsome, having a cute boyish look to his features, so you can’t be too mad.

“Oh, oh my god, sorry, fuck, I-I uh didn’t realize someone was in here, so sorry.”

You can’t help but laugh as he struggles to apologize, covering his eyes slightly.

“It’s totally okay, I was just leaving anyways.”

He lowers his hands, only now getting a good look at you. He seems to like what he sees as his face lights up.

“Leaving? Already? We could just chill in here a bit.”

You raise your eyebrow sceptically, though he seemed so innocent, it was hard to tell his intentions.

“I just think a break from all the chaos outside would be nice,”

He quickly clarifies upon seeing your expression shift.

“I’ve never seen you before, what’s your name?”

“oh yeah it’s my first time here, it’s y/n.”

He smiles, his pink gums flashing cutely when he does.

“My name’s Jisung, nice to meet you.”

His aura is much more comforting than anyone else’s you’ve encountered at this party so far. He was slightly shy, but still held himself confidently.

Before you can continue your conversation the door is swung open again.

Now Haechan stands in the doorway looking almost annoyed.

“What the fuck is going on in here?”

His tone is humous and teasing, but the sentiment doesn’t make it to his face.

Jisung just rolls his eyes.

“Nothing, Haechan, we were just talking.”

“Well we’re playing a game now so let’s go. Out, both of you.”

He moves to the side gesturing you two out of the room. Jisung walks past him, but when you try to do the same he stops you in your tracks.

“Here, you’ll need this for the game.”

He holds out a red solo cup, taking a sniff causes you to recoil, the smell of liquor burning your nose.

“Oh, I don’t drink.”

“You do today.”

After a moment, you reluctantly take it. Maybe this will help with the nerves you’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

“Plus, if you do well, you won’t have to have any anyways.”

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

Around ten of you now sit in a circle in the living room. Haechan stands in the middle explaining the rules of the game. It’s relatively simple, just truth or dare but if you refuse to do the challenge, you drink.

You look around, seeing some faces you’ve seen before. Chenle, Jisung, Jeno, and the boy from the bedroom, the girl being no where to be seen, are scattered throughout the circle.

“Couldn’t we just lie if we didn’t feel like telling the truth?”

Asks Chenle, titling his head.

“Can’t, we must swear on our life to be honest,”

He responds dramatically.

“But if you still feel like being a liar, Renjun is basically a human lie detector.”

He looks to a boy wearing glasses, who waves to the rest with a tight lipped smile.

With that, Haechan joins the circle, sitting on the couch directly across from you. His eyes now locked onto you.

The game starts with the usual stupid challenges, everyone laughing with each other, a playful feeling fills the air. People have yet to ask you anything, most likely due to the fact that they don’t know your name, which you were beyond grateful for.

Unfortunately, this doesn’t last long as Jisung decided you’ve been too comfortable for too long.

“Why hasn’t anyone asked y/n yet? Jaemin, since it’s your turn, you do it.”

The boy who you’d seen receiving services earlier looks over to you, the same scandalous look returning to his face.

“Hmm okay y/n, truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You answer almost immediately, not daring to risk hearing the twisted things Jaemin would come up with if you had chosen dare.

“Okay, let’s start with something easy. What’s your body count?”

The room fills with the boys talking, trying to guess what the number might be before you say it.

“I’d guess like five? surely not over ten.”

“I don’t know, she might be in double digits.”

“Look at her, I’m saying at least thirteen.”

“She kind of has this innocent aura though.”

The only person not chiming in was Haechan. As uncomfortable as it was having people you just met discuss your sex life, the way Haechan looked at you made you ten times more uncomfortable.

It felt like he could see right through you, like he already knew the answer; that all his friends were wrong. He knew the moment he touched your waist, knew by the way you reacted so sensitively to his hands.

You tried your best to advert your gaze, laughing uneasily. It’s not that you’re embarrassed or anything…okay you might be slightly embarrassed, nonetheless it’s nothing to be ashamed of.

It’s just the thought of revealing something so personal to a bunch of strangers that didn’t sit well with you.

“I think I’m gonna have to drink.”

Your answer is met with uproar, a series of “boo”s following your announcement.

You ignore them looking at the cup in your hand uneasily, before closing your eyes and taking a long chug.

The boos quickly turn into cheers, encouraging you to drink more.

So you do. You finish the cup in that long chug, a boy, apparently named mark, quickly handing you another drink. You pause, but only for a second, before taking it.

Just one more drink can’t hurt, can it?

————————————————————————

tags : @snflwrhaerecs4u @ki-aechan @loveforred

[cozymoko]

Wait you write for Kamisama kiss??? OMG Tomoe's been my crush for years 😭 omg if it's okay with you then can I have general yandere headcannons about everyone's favourite fox boy?? 🌕 Anon

YANDERE TOMOE HEADCANONS

Note: I also love Tomoe. Btw this might suck because I'm bad at general anything.

Pronouns used: feminine, she/her (for convenience)

WARNING(S): yandere themes, slightly suggestive

YOKAI

Possessive, Manipulative, Violent (to others)

AS A ROUGUE YOKAI, pledging his loyalty to others never truly appealed to him; to a woman nonetheless. Being a formidable demon never called for such requirements.

You were feisty, pointing the round end of your broom in his direction. You knew not of who was there, yokai or human but you feigned confidence. The trembling of your hands gave it away, you were scared as one would be. “Who's there?”

The pale moonlight peeked through the few windows lining the walls, carefully calling attention to your features. You were easy on the eyes and yet so hard to look at. Your eyes were glassy and narrowed into thin slits. Your legs shook violently in anticipation for him to reveal himself as you hugged the broom flush against your chest. Such a look didn't suit you.

Having mercy on you, he decided to cut his fun a little short.

As one does, Tomoe made his way to a brothel which he was fairly acquainted with. All in a pitiful attempt to find solace amongst the predatory gazes of the women occupying it. But alas, he could not. With every look upon their faces twisted into one that mimicked your own. Captivating and seemingly kind, tempting him to reach out and touch it.

Tomoe is no fool. His emotions are evident, terribly so. He longs for a human woman and there's no need to deny it. Your image has been engraved in his memory down to every last detail. Women who were not you could no longer soothe his mind as they appeared lackluster in comparison.

Thus, he sought after you. In the middle of the night, he was whisked away by the chilly wind in search of the woman. Your scent was heavy on his mind, leading him back to the small cabin you resided in. His footsteps were night, almost silent as he entered your home, searching for you.

To his luck, there you were. Rolled up in a cotton futon, lulled by the chirps of noisy crickets. Yes, he's decided; You are his and no one else's. Tomoe isn't one for sharing and he'll make sure you're aware.

Akura-ou was quick to find out about your existence, which was a pain within itself. He would toy with you just to get under Tomoe's skin. It's not every day you get to see your moody "counterpart" fall so hard for someone, let alone a human. Anyhow, those who've tormented you weren't as fortunate as Akura-ou, serving a far more unpleasant demise for their actions.

If not for you, Tomoe wouldn't hesitate to massacre every man who looks your way. Having good-looking women by his side is nothing he isn't used to, yet, you are different. As his woman, he wouldn't want someone to so much as breathe the same air as you. The mere thought renders him ill.

Although, if you ask him not to he'll try his best to listen to your wishes. Keyword: try. He would never want to upset you, oh not at all! However he's only "human", even he has his limits.

No matter how he may terrify you, running is NOT an option. You will never be too far from his grasp. As long as his heart is beating, no one will ever have his heart. The fox demon is a bit too eager to show how he got his reputation in the Yokai world. As his other half, why don't you sit down and watch for a while?

“Foolish girl, when will you finally understand that your efforts are futile? Your cries may pain me but if I must tie you down to keep you. Then I shall.”

FAMILIAR

Loyal, Overprotective, Posessive

BEFORE HE MET YOU HE WAS A YOKAI, drowning in a pit of endless grief. Though not a powerful God, you held enough power to help the lost kitsune. You, determined to save him, kissed him and made Tomoe you familiar. For that, he was forever grateful.

Sure his bloodlust has been soothed over the decades, but it doesn't cease to exist. However, betrayal has never crossed his mind. His loyalty to you runs deeper than the blood that courses through veins. He is bound to you for life and he will serve you until greeted by death's embrace

He still finds you to be a subpar God in nearly every aspect. You were so uncool and lame as you lacked elegance, lazy in comparison to many, and awfully forgetful. But it made you even more charming. Tomoe found himself growing fond of your minor habits, though still trying to push healthier ones upon you, they were sweet, or even cute dare he say.

If you so choose, you can touch his ears. What can I say, the thought has plagued his mind more times than he cares to admit. Intimacy with you is not exactly scarce, you dot on the fox quite a bit, however, he yearns for more of your attention, your time. Being your familiar for some years has honestly built up his confidence. (There was no way in hell he'd ask you that and earlier than now.)

You cannot have another familiar, not a chance. Tomoe will burn them to the ground if they even try to kiss you. If you've had familiars before him, fuck them. They can die for all he cares. All you have to do is ask and he will gladly do the honors. (He knows you won't, unfortunately)

No male familiars are permitted to sleep by your side, except him of course. He must retain his superiority somehow. Allowing them to see you so vulnerable is not an option.

For you, he'd do an ything if it's within his power. As long as it doesn't put you or your reputation in danger that is.

“You reek of that wretched Tengu, must you always converse with such lowlives, mistress? If my company is not to your liking please allow me to fix myself. I am your loyal familiar and you should know I'm also the best.”

[ninyard]

Heyy! You said someone should ask you about Kevin under this post about Kevin's struggles from the nest of which we don't know enough... So I'm asking you about Kevin! Please tell us your Kevin thoughts! You always make very good points and I like reading your thoughts!!

cody my friend I am so glad you asked but you might regret it. i hope you're prepared from an unorganised huge convoluted MESS of a ramble

i've been thinking for a few days about this one like... what would a kevin POV look like? what is he hiding? how does he cope? WHO IS HE?

the kevin we ""know"" is a "coward", an insufferable bitch, an asshole and a hardass. other people's opinions and view of him makes up the entirety of our impression of who he is. but that's not who he is. that's just who we're supposed to believe he is.

kevin, born and bred to have this... borderline psychopathic lack of empathy, who can look his teammates in the eye after being told seth is dead or andrew is being committed and say, "what about the game?"

but when the raven's are switching districts; his sense of danger and fear is paralysing. he's three steps ahead trying to figure out how to please riko, how to keep himself safe, willing to put himself back into the centre of his abuse just to stop riko from finding him and killing him. he has to get blackout drunk to deal with any amount of riko. he's frozen with fear by being in the same room as him.

kevin knows where jean's mind and body goes to when hes panicking, knowing his worst place is right back in the nest being drowned by riko. kevin telling neil "do you know what he'll do to you?" and "he'll break you" when neil asks for his ticket. kevin's text to him before he goes into the nest, and staring at neil like he'd seen a ghost when neil returns after the nest (when he looks like the butcher). his comforting "i know what he's like" or "i know how he sees you, i know it means he did not hold back,".

kevin nervous breakdown panic attack day vs kevin smile for the cameras one track exy mind day

im so intrigued by him. how does he cope? his mother is dead, probably killed by the mafia family he was raised by. he grew up into a cult, he was only a child watching neil's father cut a man into pieces in front of him. how many other's had he seen?

how many other injuries cover his body, in places where the cameras can't see? how many rapes and assaults was he forced to watch in the nest? how many beatings was he forced to participate in? what did he have to say to jean in french that he didn't want riko to hear?

he needs someone with him all the time because of the nest. he's a "health freak" because of the nest. his sleep schedule, his anger, his anxiety.

did he say "what about the season?" re: andrew after drake because he doesn't care, or did he think "i've seen this happen too many times. and they've always kept playing,"? did he think "andrew is the strongest person i know. andrew is stronger than me. he would never let this destroy him," knowing that it has?

nobody has protected him in his life apart from the cameras and andrew.

he's scared. he doesn't know what love is supposed to look like.

he's only been a human for a year.

his scars are healing for the first time in his life and they're not being replaced by new ones, but every day he's afraid that that's going to get ripped out from underneath him. his entire life already got flipped upside down when he left the nest. of course exy is the only thing he "cares" about.

because it's the only thing that's been certain in his life, and even for those few weeks or months where he thought he would never play again, he trained and trained, and learned how to use his non-dominant hand because he can't lose this. he can't lose exy like he's lost everything else.

kevin has never had anything stable in his life except for violence and exy. now he has people he's supposed to care about, and he has to change his priorities. he has to learn how live a life that isn't fueled by self-preservation for the first time ever.

jean was only in the nest for five years; and look at him. look at what the nest has done to his social skills, his view of himself, his self esteem. look at what it's done to him, how he expects violence and contrition, coach and always waiting and waiting and waiting for the punishment to come.

kevin might not have had the same level of physical abuse that jean had, but he was there far longer. the ravens existed before him; their mindset and their abuse and their violence and their poison.

he's been drinking the raven poison since his childhood. the only difference between him and jean other than those things above is that kevin had more pressure to hide it, because he was half of the face of the ravens, half of the face of Exy; media trained or PR trained or a master at being a fraud and faking the way he speaks when he's being recorded.

kevin knows how to hide his abuse because he has always had to, and he's had quite a lot of practice at it.

kevin has only been a human for a year. kevin has only been kevin for a year.

so who is he? does he even know?

or is he just Kevin Day, Raven Fox starting striker, number two, six foot two, left handed right handed left handed, heavy racquet, stick size five? is that all he will ever see himself as?

anyways. or something like that. maybe he is just an insufferable bitch for no reason at all. who knows!

[alicerosejensen]

Warning: unhealthy relationship; Dark; not a yandere Leon but almost; the reader has no family and friends; Rescuer syndrome (if you look really closely at the very beginning); mentions of alcohol; Dom!Leon; fem/reader; Older!Leon; Mentions of pregnancy;

Summary: He will love you until his death. You are his and no one else's.

A/N: English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes. Also I don't approve of this crap in real life and if it triggers you, please look at the warning again and skip it. Just because I write doesn't mean it's cool in real life. Build only healthy relationships based on mutual love, trust, compromises without violence.

If you look closely, neither of you two were healthy enough to build a relationship.

Of course you're not a pet. Even if you is devoted to him like a dog whose owner is drowning on the Titanic, and Leon has long been sinking. Of course, he does not consider you an animal and he is sincerely sorry that because of your injuries you cling to him, and he, in turn, succumbs to the selfish desire to keep his girl close to him.

You were so young and alone that, apparently due to your childhood traumas, you sought love from someone who tried to cope with his traumas with the help of alcohol. Leon didn't think he should have touched you at all. In his opinion, everything he touches turns to shit, and he didn't mean to hurt you at all. Besides, he believed that seducing such a young girl, even if you are of age, is almost a crime, however, he could not stop being drawn to you. My God, he’s already turning 40 and you’re a little over 20. Do girls your age hang out with such old men? You should find a young guy with whom you can do all sorts of stupid things while being on the same wavelength, and not cling to his back like a lost child. But in general, it’s not really a fact, but just an observation, but lonely people often have pets to while away their unbearable loneliness. Leon does not have the opportunity to get a dog or a cat, his job means that he spends little time at home, but...

At night, you sleep soundly, throwing your leg over him and reaching out with your arms to hug him. Leon catches himself thinking that he likes to listen to measured breathing and feel the soft skin on his body. His sweet girl... in your sleep you feel how other people's fingers are drawing patterns on your back and you fucking like it. Don’t care about studying, which can open the door to the world of a good career with a decent salary, love into which you dive headfirst is the most beautiful thing that has happened in your life.

And you are ready to hold on to him until the last... Well, actually, just like he does to you.

It’s deep night outside, the bedroom is in wireless darkness, which Leon is so afraid of because of painful memories, but why is he calm now when you’re sleeping so quietly next to him.

"Bunny?" Leon rarely calls you that, but those cute pajamas of yours with the bunny ears on the tank top make him smile, kissing your forehead because your sleep, unlike him, is quite sound.

In fact, he feels like a son of a bitch who sleeps with a girl half his age and, to Leon’s own horror, it’s not even lust. He himself doesn’t fully understand what kind of crap is happening to him, but the point is that he really feels for you... high feelings. At least every day it becomes more and more difficult to let you out of his arms.

But you're sleeping. An absolute angel and Leon wonders if he can mistake your compassion for love? Or do you just have daddy issues? Thinking about this, Leon grins, burying his nose in your hair. He has his faithful “Matilda” in his bedside table, and, in theory, he has nothing to fear, but he is unlikely to be able to live with such crap as before 1998. You planted an obsession for him, gradually nurturing and strengthening it, like a caring gardener painstakingly working on his favorite flower. You yourself cling to him, adjoining him, you are even ready to give up all prospects for your future life for the sake of him alone.

Leon kisses you and strokes your cheek with his thumb, pressing you to his chest, finally closing his eyes and falling into sleep.

Actually, Leon thinks that it’s all your fault. Who if not you?! It’s like you’re deliberately making him worry by putting the phone on silent or calling him back too late, which is why he gradually seems to lose his mind if he can’t be sure that everything is okay. He screams and you cry and apologize to him because you are afraid that he will leave you alone. This is your biggest fear, even if Leon had nothing like that in his thoughts. For heaven's sake, he really hates your tears and he hates feeling guilty about it even more.

"Just don't make me worry anymore" He asks in a soothing tone, pressing your trembling body to him.

And you nod your head, feeling how painful your stomach is from the stress you have experienced and your conflict with him.

"I'll never again...I swear"

You are a stone on his neck, which he in theory can throw off but does not want to. What's going on with you two is clearly not normal. This is immediately noticed by Claire watching how you loyally sit next to him and seem to be interested in nothing but Leon. Seriously, of course, few people from her inner circle like a secular reception, but Claire really thinks it's very strange.

"She's…" Redfield notices your discomfort when Leon walks away to talk to her. However, he himself constantly turns around to look after you while you are nervously sitting at a table with a half-empty glass looking at him with deer eyes. "How old is she? In my opinion, you don't really look like a guy who…indulging in young girls"

Leon squints into Claire's eyes. In truth, part of him realizes that she is saying a clever thought and the other begins to howl unbearably, because you are really the nicest thing that has happened in the last years of his life. So why the hell should he constantly give up his human happiness just because it allegedly does not fit into the worldview of other people?!

"I'm not keeping her forcibly next to me," he replied rudely, and Claire shuddered at the unusual cold tone, "She can leave if she wants to, but she doesn't want to."

Well, who will look after you if even all your loved ones have abandoned you?

The Redfields look disapproving, and when Leon returns to the table in a bad mood, they both see you clinging to his hand, anxiously flapping your eyes, calming down only when he quickly kisses you on the cheek and runs his palm over your back. However, Leon has never really hurt you. After a while, Claire even gets used to this abnormal connection between her friend and his young girlfriend, only rolls her eyes when she sees that Leon constantly sends you messages, checking how well you took care of yourself while he was away.

"She has problems with dad" is a fair conclusion, which Leon deliberately ignored, without commenting on it in any way.

And it wasn't even untrue. With Leon's help, you unconsciously compensated for what you were not given as a child, in turn, Leon himself treated himself with your presence. Because he knows for sure that when he wakes up, you will be next to him in bed, and you will not run away while he sleeps, leaving a paper airplane with traces of scarlet lipstick on his lips and a short signature "See you later", along with the fading scent of perfume in the room. He doesn't need to worry about where you are in the evening, because you are either in the living room watching TV, or in the bedroom, or in the kitchen. No matter what you are doing, the main thing is in his field of vision. If he need to call out to you, then you will respond, and this is the most important thing for him - to know that you are always in close proximity to him.

With each passing year, his control grows, building strict rules.

There is no point in listing them, and Leon knows that you would not violate anything even if you knew nothing about them. Mostly it was just for peace of mind. You walk only with him, don’t lift weights, communicate with strangers to a minimum and... yes, you don’t go to college anymore, because he doesn’t always have time to pick you up from there after classes, well, you can’t say that you were completely against it . There were already enough missed classes for this to become a problem. Anyone's problem but not yours, because...

“I will support you perfectly. My credit card is at your disposal, buy whatever you want or wait for me, sweetheart"

You weren’t a shopaholic, but sometimes you indulged in expensive purchases. Leon never objected.

They took care of you, you didn’t have to study or work, you could sleep until lunchtime, the only important thing was to remain an obedient girl for your Leon, who was too fixated on you. No normal person would consider what was happening to be normal, when you literally cannot leave the house without someone else’s permission. Should you walk to the store for groceries or just a short jog in the morning? Strictly prohibited! Of course you can with Leon, because in his opinion he is a guarantee that everything will be fine with you as long as he is around. You won’t be attacked by some crazy person or a rabid dog, he will carefully check the expiration date on the packages so that his bunny doesn’t get poisoned and other little things that were completely absurd.

It’s remarkable that you were an obedient girl, because your subconscious said that if you make even the slightest mistake, the retribution would be terrible, only the fear was not because of physical violence (no, he doesn’t beat you at all) but because you were afraid that Leon would find yourself another girlfriend, leaving you to choke on your own love or even kill yourself.

Although Leon didn’t threaten to break up with you at all. All lovers quarrel, but you were literally shaking with fear that everything would end, as if the sky would fall to the ground or the sun would stop shining, destroying all living things. No, of course Leon wouldn’t leave you, because his love is no less sick than yours. So his fear is that you'll probably realize he's too old for you, as Claire tells him, and leave for a younger guy. Leon simply cannot tolerate this shit, so he locks you in his house. And still you don't mind.

Leon knows everything his angel likes, from food to your favorite color, which can change depending on your mood. Unlike you, he himself was quite secretive, but you knew well some of his preferences and how to behave when his self-esteem fell through the roof after yet another death at work. Sometimes it was necessary to sit quietly in the next room, but more often just sit on his lap, stroke his head and kiss him. Kiss a lot.

And yet Leon was afraid that you would find a replacement for him.

Therefore, it was necessary to tie you to him so that no one could ever take you away from him. And the only option that Leon saw was to become a father.

“Are you serious?! Damn it, what’s happening to you?! Did she really so calmly agree to conceive a child with you?!”

For God's sake, the way Claire screams makes Leon's ears pop. In fact, only he planned, with only one goal to make you stay with him and fulfill his old dream of a family. But he will say that this was discussed with you and, in fact, you and he even managed to argue about names and what color you would decorate the nursery, which of course was not true, but Claire and others don’t need to know about it.

Leon didn’t even bring up this topic of conversation with you, he just pierced a few with a condoms and, fortunately for him, the result did not take long to arrive. With the first signs, Leon immediately knew that the pregnancy tests would show a positive result and yet he takes care of you when vomit turns your stomach. Like a caring daddy who collects your hair at the back of your head while you spew out everything you’ve eaten and strokes your back, supporting you. A warm blanket, a dim light, a pat on your stomach? It's all for you, baby, and for this little pea inside of you. Leon suppresses a grin, believing that his plan has worked... which is really the case.

"Oh, sweetheart, I hope it's tears of joy, because you don't have a single reason to cry anymore," Leon says when he looks at you crying sitting on the toilet lid, hugging his shoulder, and a positive test is lying on the floor next to you.

Complete shit, but you were crying literally because you were afraid that he would definitely leave now. Fortunately, luck, as you naively believed, has not left you.

Leon did everything to ensure that his little American dream and family were safe under his complete control. Firstly, he immediately said that his child needed more space, although the apartment was spacious enough and the three of them could live here in peace, especially since there was a park nearby, but Leon needed a house. The one that no one will stick their nose into, although in fact, despite the quarrel with Claire and the others, he is thinking of inviting them to the birth of a child. And he's not going to completely isolate you from others. Courses for young mothers, the same walks with a stroller near the house, it was necessary, especially since the baby and mom need fresh air.

You are required to obey and strictly follow all the doctor's recommendations as before. Of course, Leon takes you to all prenatal appointments to make sure that everything is fine, it gives him an unprecedented delight to be next to you at the first ultrasound. Damn, baby, you have to give him a girl! Although he wasn't against the boy.

It is noteworthy that you have never said a word against. After all, everything was fine with you: huge care, a new big house with a small extension for a playground in the backyard, which hinted at the obvious fact that this is your first child with Leon, but not the last. However, how much love he gives you while you are pregnant compensates for all the ailments!

And when you finally give birth, Leon, of course, next to you meets his sweet girl, whose fate, as he thinks, can only be envied. At least now you won’t leave him anywhere, but will forever remain with you and next to you, cherishing your little girl whom he is going to spoil just like her mommy. Leon will put the crib next to the bed, make a new schedule and take a million photos of his happy family.

He adores you and that's all you need. In the end, Leon even admits to himself that he didn’t need the child as much as you, and only Claire and Chris seem to see how abnormal this relationship is.

Only Leon doesn't care anymore.

And you too.