#being hugged by wilt just seems like the best thing

[hottoepecker]

[artemisiasmuse]

princess treatment | rafe x low maintenance gf

cw: fluff, mentions of emotionally abusive family dynamics, slightly suggestive (mentions of sex but no details)

you’d always been treated as some sort of third parent, a therapist, a friend but never what you were: a daughter

that all changed when you started dating rafe

on top of being mistreated by your family, you’d never had a bf who treated you right

the first time rafe brought you flowers you cried, he thought he’d done something wrong but you were so touched you couldn’t say anything as you hugged him tight

he made sure to bring you flowers often, making sure you never ran out. you remember finding a flower from your bouquet in his car, asking him why he had it. “when it wilts i know i gotta get you more.” you’d proceeded to make him pull over.

it was like he was dead set on making you fall even more in love when he said, “as fucking great as that was, i don’t do these things for sex baby, i don’t expect anything okay?” you told him you knew that, which you didn’t actually since all the guys you had been with before seemed to be like that, and proceeded to kiss him some more.

to him treating you like a princess came naturally, he was never good at expressing himself so buying you presents, taking care of you, doing things for you was just second nature

in the beginning he thought it was cute how appreciative you were but when you still got shocked from his actions after months he realized you had just never been treated how you deserve

and that pissess him off

he makes it a point to treat you like an absolute princess, not even letting you open a single door by yourself, you don’t even remember the last time you put your heels on by yourself because he was always crouching down to help you before you could think about it

“rafe if you spoil me so much ill get used to it.” you murmured as you watched your 6’2 boyfriend lean down and gently place your heeled foot on his knee so he could buckle the shoe. his touch was always so gentle, as if he’d hurt you like this.

“that’s kinda the point angel,” he says it without hesitation, brows a bit furrowed as he looks for the best notch that won’t cause you discomfort. you think you might start crying again but you bite the inside of your cheek and kiss him when he stands up

rafe hates how your family treats you, but he holds his tongue because he knows you love them. it doesn’t matter to him if your family hates him, he knows he should seek their approval but he doesn’t think they deserve to dictate any part of your life

he’s holding back until your mom oversteps your boundaries in front of him and he just has to step in, taking over whatever thing she told you to do even though he knew your mother was perfectly capable. he guises it as being a good future son-in-law

“it’s okay rafe-“ you say it without realizing, so used to taking the load off of others. it’s reflexive and rafe shoots a glance that shuts you up.

“you can ask me from now on if you need anything,” he looks pointedly at your mother with a smile you know is fake. you just brush it off and think rafe is just trying to make a good impression. you don’t know he doesn’t give a fuck what your parents think. he even starts hating your sibling.

your brother is older than you but never acts that way. when you mentioned an older brother he expected someone protective of you. he was met with someone doted on by your mother, irresponsible and immature and uncaring of his sister. it seemed like you were the older sibling.

you’d been living with your parents while you both dated, you hadn’t seen anything wrong with it until rafe gets you to move out to live with him. your parents are against it at first but with the help rafe has been they have little reason to refuse him.

when you do move out you realize how much better everything is. you’re not your mother’s caretaker, or your parent’s marriage counselor, or even your brother’s mom. you’re you. and you can finally breathe. rafe doesn’t expect anything from you and it slightly unnerves you, how could he take care of you without expecting anything in return?

he pays for everything, even if you push back at first, he replaces your card in your wallet with his going as far as hiding your card and he knows you have a job and that you can afford it yourself but he doesn’t see why you have to

you’d gotten your nails done and shown them to him and when he didn’t see a charge on his card he pouted for a whole day until you gave in and agreed to use it next time

but rafe knows you’re holding back, he can see that you’re spending frugally. he doesn’t want you to, in fact nothing would make him happier than seeing a dent taken out of his bank account because of his beautiful caring girlfriend

you remember your first date when he got offended that you’d offered to split the bill, he was even more shocked when you thanked him profusely after for paying

when you whine about him taking your card he finally has to speak up, “baby, what’s yours is mine right?” you nod without pause, you loved when rafe drove your car or used your skincare. it felt so intimate and domestic like you were a married couple, the thought bringing heat to your face. “right, so what’s mine is yours.” and you can’t really refute that.

one day when he’s drying your hair after your shower, you can’t help but ask, “why are you so nice to me rafey?”

“i love you, s’that simple”

“i love you too but no one’s ever been this nice to me.”

“no one’s ever been as nice to me as you are either, that doesn’t mean it’s wrong right?” he always has a way of making you see his side so effortlessly you have to agree. you could never argue that rafe didn’t deserve the amount of love you gave him or more.

“yeah, thank you for taking care of me”

“‘you gonna thank me for the rest of our lives?” you just stare at him blankly and rafe watches the tears well up in your eyes. “hey don’t cry baby, you can thank me as many times as you want okay? just don’t go thinking you deserve any less than this.”

“i’m never letting you go.”

“i’m counting on it.”

on your anniversary, rafe buys you a car and even though you do thank him profusely and maybe cry a little it doesn’t turn your stomach with anxiety on how to thank him properly or that you don’t deserve it. instead you spend the night loving your boyfriend as much as he loves you. you realize rafe just has a different way of showing it.

a/n: instead of crashing out ab my family i wrote this :)

taglist: @ggraycelynn @clar2aa

[norasafterglow]

flipped prologue

matts perspective

the first time i saw y/n, in second grade, i knew something was wrong with that girl.

it was the way that the second that me, chris, and nick got out of the car, she was running over to help move our stuff into the house

it didn’t help that she seemed more interested in me than my brothers, even though chris was actually trying to interact with her

she just seemed so… infatuated with me. even after my father sent me back into the house to ‘help’ my mother unpack, she followed me, all the way to the door.

before i knew it, she was… grabbing my arm? i ripped my arm out of her grasp, but she grabbed my hand

the worst part was when my mom came out, smirking like she just won a million dollars. she looked between y/n, than me, than y/n again, then finally landing on my before tilting her head ever so slightly

“made a new friend, matt?” she asked, her lip curling as she looked at the girl beside me

before i could even answer, i was cut off.

“hi! my names y/n! y/n baker! i live across the street” she says, pointing to the house across the street.

her house was, how do i put this? disgusting looking.

weeds growing everywhere. all the flowers were dead and wilted, and part of the fence was even rotting. her father was in the yard, sending over a polite wave before getting back to his painting

i pushed the girl off me, running to hide behind my mom as i pouted. very manly

y/n finally gave up, waving to my mom and me, before running back to her own house

i thought that would be the end of it. boy, was i wrong

-

the next time i saw y/n baker was at school. lucky, lucky me, i guess, that she was in my homeroom. and every other class. woo-hoo.

i knew this was bad when i walked in on the first day of school, and not even a foot into the class, i heard a shriek

“matt! youre in this class?” i heard, before i was attacked.

thats a little dramatic, but i was pulled into a very tight hug. i heard snickers and teases from the other kids in the room, and i mentally groaned

what is wrong with this girl?

-

in 8th grade, i hatched the perfect plan.

how to get y/n off my back?

date her arch nemesis

it was genius

thats how i found myself, on a random tuesday, going up to sherry stalls. y/n hated sherry. something about her hair being too big.

i walked up to sherry, checking to make sure y/n was watching. of course, she was

“hey sherry…” i said, leaning on the locker next to me

“hey matt, whats up?” she asked, a slight smile on her face. i grinned, crossing my arms

“i was thinking, would you want to hang out sometime?” i asked, glancing over to y/n, who had the biggest scowl on her face

sherry nodded, and that was that.

-

originally, i had planned for sherry to be with me for a while, to hold hands, and talk. was it just to get y/n to back off? yes.

that was until my best friend, nathan doe, took up a liking for sherry too

and what did he do to get her? told her all of my plan.

that was the end of that, sherry broke up with me at lunch.

y/n noticed immediately, of course. she started talking to me again, and i didnt want to be mean, so i spoke to her

the only thing getting me through it was that next year was 9th grade. high school. new beginnings.

thats what i hoped, at least

y/ns perspective

as soon as i saw matt, pulling up in his car with his two brothers, I knew he was the one for me.

sure, his brothers were… okay… but matt.

with those beautiful, dazzling blue eyes. those eyes that i felt bore straight into my soul every time i looked at him

as soon as i saw matt, i flipped.

i ran up to the movers truck, standing inside as i watched the boys start to unpack the stuff

their dad finally notices me, and tells me to run back home to my own house, but i declined. i needed to know this boy. i grabbed a box, then turned to face matt

“want to push this one together?” i ask, but his father stops me before i can take the box any further

“matt, how about you go help your mother in the kitchen, yeah?” the dad asks, motioning for matt to shoo

matt looked confused for a second, before nodding and running out of the van, towards his front door. i could tell he didnt want to go, so i did the only reasonable thing.

i chased after him

i caught up with him, pretty quickly. this kid was not fast

i reached out for his shoulder, but her pulled away, and held my hand instead.

i almost jumped for joy. why was matt, the most perfect boy in the world, holding my hand? he looked at me with those bright blue eyes, hand still in mine, and i knew.

we were meant for eachother.

his mother came out, and i smiled at her. i could tell she could see the connection too, since she was smiling.

“made a new friend, matt?” she asked, tilting her head.

i didnt even give him time to respond, i was too giddy

“hi! im y/n! y/n baker! i live in the house across the street!” i said, pointing to my house, with my dad in the front

suddenly, matt pulled away from my grip, going to stand with his mom. he must be tired

i waves at them, before skipping back over to my own house

matt sturniolo, the boy you are

-

i went to school on the first day of second grade, not really caring. it would just ne the same people as always

thats when i saw him

my eyes widened, as i practically galloped over, squealing as i pulled him into a tight hug

“matt! youre in this class?” i said, hugging him tighter

i heard the giggles and whispers from the classmates, but they just didnt get it. if they were in love, they would understand

-

in 8th grade, matt asked out sherry stalls.

my literal enemy.

sherrys not even that fun. shes all hair, no actual substance for personality. she always talks about the same thing over and over again, and its always about getting her ears pierced.

no one cares!

i was at my locker, getting my books out, when i saw them out of the corner of my eye. sherry and matt, smiling. all happy.

there she was, holding hands with matt. my matt!

i couldnt believe him. i slammed my locker closed, walking away. my life was ruined.

for about a week. sherry broke up with him at lunch.

when matt got broken up with, he actually started talking to me, smiling at me

and there, when he looked at me with those eyes, i confirmed i was still in love with this boy.

9th grade. high school. new classes. would matt finally at least take me into consideration?

i could only hope

a/n: guys please tell me if this is ass. it was rushed. my bad

dividers: @ bernardsbendystraws

taglist: @chrissweetheart @sturns-mermaid

flipped masterlist here

[cottonlemonade]

A Simpler Life [Part 2]

word count: 1621 || avg. reading time: 7 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kita x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, slice of life, mutual pining, slow burn

warnings: spoilers

synopsis: In pursuit of a calmer, simpler life you flee the city to move to the countryside - only to fall in love with your neighbor.

[part 1]

Kita‘s steps quickened when your house came into view, his eyes searching the veggie patch for your straw hat but nothing. His shoulders drooped but he was glad to see the tomatoes doing well.

Maybe he should just knock and ask if you could spend dinner again together but he decided against it. You were probably busy or had better things to do. A light went on in your house and through the window he saw you lean over a small table with a mirror, applying some lipstick. From the little he could make out you wore a pretty black dress that hugged your curves so beautifully, his thoughts were temporarily disconnected. He had to swallow. You were going out. Looking down at his own dirty work clothes and touching the sweaty towel around his neck he let out a deep breath. Just as well. And feeling like he was being intrusive with his stares he continued his way home. As he walked along the dusty road, he remembered a seemingly endless discussion the twins had with Suna back in school that he was close enough to overhear. They talked about leagues and how Suna clearly was not in the same one as a girl he fancied. Back then Kita didn‘t quite understand what they meant since their volleyball team was amongst the best. How much more successful was that girl‘s team that Suna shouldn‘t even talk to her? But now it started to make sense. Rounding the bend, he entered his courtyard and spotted his dog on the porch, eagerly sniffing a familiar looking bundle.

But he had dropped it off this morning, he was sure. With a frown he walked over and picked it up. A note was tucked underneath the knot. “Seems like I made too much again - oops! Could you take this off my hands, neighbor? Y/n“

The bundle smelled heavenly and feeling the disappointment subsiding ever so slightly, he carried it inside.

The next couple of days were the same. He would walk by your house, maybe catch a glimpse of you through a window, sometimes he could talk to you for a few minutes when you were in the garden but unfortunately, he couldn’t seem to bring himself to outright ask for your company and since you didn’t bring it up either he concluded that first time had just been a slip of your tongue.

But every evening without fail he came back to a new bundle of goodness, still warm, waiting for him on his porch under the watchful eyes and nose of his dog.

A new note accompanied each delivery and they already formed a small stack in his dresser drawer.

Every morning he would then drop off the cleaned box and bundle by your door, the same words as his first message written neatly on a sheet of simple, pretty paper.

“I tried a new dish with a recipe from one of the grandmothers in town. I hope you like it! - Also a quick question to a professional: I think my strawberries are dying. Their leaves are all crunchy and no matter how much I water them they seem to wilt. Thoughts? - Y/n”

He got up even earlier the next morning than usual and headed to his smaller greenhouse that kept some fruit and veggies he liked to have growing year round for his own personal use. After swiftly filling a basket with strawberries, he made his way to your home to drop them and the bundle off alongside a detailed note on what could be done about your plants before he headed to work.

“Kita-saaan!“

The young man stood up, looking around to see who called for him.

His stomach flipped when he saw your lovely figure standing on the road at the side of his field, waving. Today was another scorching hot day. You wore a light summer dress and your straw hat that he found so endearingly bewitching. He returned your wave and held his breath when he saw you pushing your bicycle along the narrow trampled dirt path between the neighboring field, obviously not bothered by dirtying your sandals a little. He waded out of the rice paddy to meet you.

“I ought to be mad at you.“, you said as a way of greeting him and he stopped short. Then you reached into the basket of your bicycle and took out a small bag.

“Those strawberries must be worth a fortune and there were so many of them, I can hardly finish those by myself.“

He relaxed and began to breathe again. You had cut some of the strawberries into bite-sized pieces while others topped freshly baked pastries. Lastly, you took out a glass bottle of milk, dyed slightly pink by the strawberry puree gathered at the bottom. “Do you think you have time for a short break?“

The pastries were, of course, delicious. He didn‘t expect anything else from whatever you prepared at this point. But as you two ate in the shade of a tree his mind was trying to figure out how to ask you about the other night. About you in that dress.

“Are you alright?“

He looked up from his cup of milk and met your eyes.

“What have ya been up to this week?“

“Hmm, nothing much.“, you said, spearing one of his strawberries on a skewer and pushing it between your lips. He could watch you enjoy his produce for hours, would happily spend the rest of his life feeding you just to see that blissful look in your eyes.

“I went to a friend’s birthday in the city. Let me tell you, even though I haven‘t been here long, I already missed the peace and quiet as soon as I got out of the taxi. It was the right decision to move. I‘m… so much happier here.“

He was pretty sure he had never been this relieved in his whole life. Looking at his cup of milk again he tried to hide a smile. “I‘m glad to hear that.“, he said.

Comfortable silence stretched between you like a cat in a sunbeam.

“I was wondering…“, you said eventually, “if you‘d like to come over for dinner again. Of course, if you‘d rather have the evening to yourself th-“

“Yes.“, he interrupted, then cleared his throat and continued, “That sounds great. I‘ll bring by the materials for that planter and set it up for ya.“

He was rewarded with another of your dazzlingly bright smiles.

The wheelbarrow gently wobbled over the many rocks and divots on the dirt road leading to your house. In it wooden planks as well as extra soil were stacked expertly and six little sugar snap pea starters were swaying back and forth on top.

When he arrived you were already waiting in your front yard, dressed for work, saluting when he halted. It took him a moment to collect his thoughts again.

“Alright, where do we start?“

“This‘ll only take 10 minutes.“, he waved you off.

“But if I help it might only take 9. Or… 30, depending on how much I slow you down.“

Kita laughed.

“Okay, but ya‘ll need gloves. The wood could splinter.“

“Oh. I don‘t have any.“

He reached into his back pocket and took out his pair, holding it out to you.

“What about you, though?“

“I‘ll be careful.“

It really didn‘t take long to connect the four pre-cut pieces with each other. Kita drove the long nails efficiently into the wood while you held the planks, trying not to get too distracted by the muscles in his shoulders and forearms. How could someone be this kind and generous? And handsome! And single!? Were the women in this town blind? But then again you did bring down the age average quite significantly…

“Y/n-san?“

His voice snapped you out of your thoughts. He held his hand out to you. For a confused moment you didn‘t know what to do and just took it. And Kita… he blushed.

“I asked for the other nail, please.“

“Oh my gosh, yes. Sorry. Uhm, here.“ You hastily pulled your hand away, your face burning bright red, and handed him the next nail.

Soon you were filling up the space with the soil he brought and planted the little starters. Using bamboo sticks and twine a makeshift trellis was quickly added and you stood up to admire your handiwork. You grinned and took off his gloves, holding up your hand for a high five.

When he raised his right you squinted and took it in yours.

“You did get a splinter!“, you scolded, “Man…! Come on.“

And you dragged him inside.

Kita thought he might explode at any second if you kept touching him. After carefully washing his hand and holding it under a steady stream of lukewarm water you pulled him over to your couch and asked him to keep his hand under the light of a small lamp on the side table. Rubbing down a pair of tweezers with some sake from your pantry you knelt in front of him, bringing his hand so close to your face he could feel your warm breath tickle his skin. It was quite maddening. Never had he felt such a strong desire for action. His whole body was tense like a taut bowstring. He held his breath while you worked, soft careful fingers rubbing and squeezing his calloused hand. He didn’t even notice the sting when you disinfected the spot after. But his skin burned when you applied a bandaid, gently smoothing out the corners.

“All done.”, you announced and got up to put the supplies away. He let out his breath, flexing his hand.

art: coloring done by @keiko-chan

[part 3]

[lifblogs]

Not Just the Braid

Bonus Prompt: “Can you braid my hair?”

Rating: General Audiences

Word Count: 1068

Summary: Omega has a ridiculous request that Crosshair doesn’t know how to fulfill, and does not want to fulfill: braiding Omega’s hair.

READ ON AO3

“Can you? Can you? Can you? Pleeaassee?” Omega asked for the millionth time.

Crosshair knew more than anyone that she was persistent, but this had lasted through breakfast. Crosshair wasn’t even done with his caf yet!

He’d already tried, no, why don’t you ask someone else?, stop, and I’m sick today (he wasn’t, and being sick wouldn’t even impede what she wanted, in most cases). Now he sighed, putting his caf down and going with the honest response, “I don’t know how.”

“Neither do I,” Omega admitted.

“So you’re a girl…” Crosshair began as Omega took a seat up beside him at the counter.

“Mm hmm.”

“…whose hair is long enough for this…”

“Mm hmm.”

“…and you don’t know how to do it either?”

Omega gave a bit of a laugh, trying to take Crosshair’s caf to have a sip.

She wilted when he grabbed it from her, glaring as he took a sip himself.

“Where would I have learned? Prison?”

“You’re dramatic.”

“Thanks.”

Omega crossed her arms and settled her head on them, looking at him, and looking at him.

“What, you think I learned it in prison? Some experiment where clones all learned to braid each other’s hair, and—” He wasn’t liking this little joke anymore. “Never mind.”

“I’ll do my chores without complaining.”

“You like chores.” Strange kid.

Omega tried grabbing his caf again.

“Pick your battles,” he grumbled.

“Fine.” She sat up, and started walking away.

“Wait, what?”

Omega didn’t say a word. Crosshair paused, eyeing his caf. Maybe he should pick his battles too.

Omega had gone down the hall to the bedrooms where everyone was presumably getting ready for their day.

Crosshair cursed and hurried after her when he realized Omega was knocking on Hunter’s door.

“In a minute,” Hunter called.

“Omega, just because he was your dad first—”

“Shush,” she told him, waving a hand at him.

“Young lady.”

“Shusshh.”

“I’ll do it.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I will.”

“I don’t trust you.”

Hunter opened the door, and Crosshair scowled (what was he supposed to do now that he was blushing and made to feel like a child?).

“What’s the problem?” Hunter asked.

“Crosshair won’t braid my hair.”

Hunter and Crosshair shared a look. Hunter’s expression seemed to say, This again? Crosshair gave a slight nod.

Hunter sighed, and Crosshair started feeling triumphant. Yes, he wouldn’t have to do this because—

“Crosshair, braid Omega’s hair.”

“What?”

“That’s an order.”

Omega thanked Hunter, hugging him, and then raced back to the kitchen, for…

…Crosshair sighed…

…his caf. She was finishing his caf.

“Hunter, I don’t know how to braid hair.”

“Figure it out.”

“Why can’t you do it? You actually have hair.”

Hunter ran a hand through said hair. “As if I’d ever braid this.”

Crosshair gave him a light shove. “You’re annoying.”

Somehow word got out in the small house that Crosshair would be braiding Omega’s hair to help her get ready for the day because now Tech, Wrecker, and Hunter were sitting on the patio with them. Only Tech was pretending he wasn’t watching.

“Is the audience necessary?” Crosshair asked, tone as sharp as if he was accusing them of war crimes.

“Technically speaking, no,” Tech answered, “but I happen to find your current predicament amusing.”

“What he said,” Wrecker agreed.

Crosshair sighed and set his attention to the kid in front of him who did not want to sit still.

He put a hand on her shoulder. “Stop moving.”

“It’s the caf.”

“Why do you think you’re not supposed to have it?”

Crosshair took Omega’s brush from the table as Batcher came over and looked at it like it was a toy.

He did his best to start brushing her hair, but he had only ever seen this done, not done it himself.

Omega stilled, and leaned back into it. Was that a good sign? Was he doing good?

“I do believe wincing is a bad thing,” Tech said.

“No one asked for the backseat flier,” Crosshair bit out.

But he did his best to gentle his touch.

He found a tough knot near her bangs. This he paid attention to, and slowed down.

After his job with that seemed done he ran his hands through her soft hair to check for knots.

Batcher was resting her head in Omega’s lap, and giving her that big-eyed look that said she wanted treats.

“I’ll give you treats in a bit,” Omega promised.

“She just had breakfast,” Hunter said.

“Sorry, Batcher. No treats.”

Crosshair had seen braids before. He was trying to hold the picture in his mind, and figure out the different components that came together to make the braid. Maybe it was made from two sections?

He tried that, but her hair just ended up in a twist a gust of wind could undo.

“I don’t think that’s how you do it,” Wrecker said, now petting Batcher who had given up on Omega giving her treats.

“You don’t even have hair,” Crosshair argued.

Wrecker laughed. “Neither do you.”

Omega laughed, and some of Crosshair’s self-consciousness washed away. Any day he could hear Omega laugh was a good day, even if he was the butt of the joke.

“Point taken.”

“I suggest separating her hair into three sections,” Tech said.

They all stopped and glanced at him. It took a few seconds for him to notice.

“What?” he eventually said, eyes holding a rare bit of confusion.

“Are you saying you know how to braid hair?” Wrecker asked.

“Theoretically.”

“Then why don’t you do it?” Hunter asked, leaning in towards him.

“Because Omega didn’t ask me to.”

“It’s okay,” she said. “Crosshair can do it.” She sounded so confident in her decision.

“At least let Tech offer some help,” he said.

“Fine.”

So they all sat on the porch on a sunny, quiet morning on Pabu, Crosshair following Tech’s instructions to braid Omega’s hair.

The braid itself was messy and loose, but when Omega was shown herself in the refresher mirrors she seemed pleased. She hugged Crosshair tight, almost squeezing too hard with those archer’s arms of hers.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

Somehow her words carried the weight of not just the braid, but what he meant to her, what this home they’d fought to have meant to her.

Crosshair gently ran a hand over her head and the messy braid that had been the cause of so much mischief.

“Always.”

[spiriteddreams]

“saying goodbye to a best friend, is the bad part of the right thing to do.” — maisie peters (tough act) cw: angst, hurt/no comfort

you're not quite sure what led to this point, two figures on opposite ends of the room, with the empty space of unsaid words to separate you both. there is understanding amidst hurt, but that doesn't make it any easier. you feel it in your chest, remnants of a heart that once lay in the hands of wriothesley. now it feels like a birthday candle has run out, drying wax beginning to harden into memories that once sparked and burned between you both.

there is too much space between the two of you, void of emotion, void of touch, void of anything that might help to piece things back together. it's not easy to be in love, and wriothesley thinks it must be even harder to be in love with him. he's so stubborn and carefree at the same time that he imagines it must be frustrating. he isn't home all the time, and when he is, he can be rather nonchalant and uncaring of the things that swarm your mind. he's not the best lover, he thinks, and that must be why everything seem so irreparable between the two of you. he refuses to see the faults that you point towards yourself, ignoring the way that you’re clearly trying to point out that this sinking ship was the fault of two lovers too caught up in one another to notice the rising waters around them.

“wriothesley,” he hates the way you say his name now. not wrio, not baby, not my love. just wriothesley. it would have been crueler if you said your grace and he thanks all heavens that you still hold him with some familiarity, both in your arms and words. but now his office feels colder. he catches sight of the flowers you brought him from the two weeks before, not replaced by a new bouquet last week, now wilting at the petals and drooping to the floor. he wonders if that was one of the many signs he missed while caught up in the papers now strewn across his desk.

you sigh and look away but he catches the catch in your breath and the trembling of your lips as you gather the words to say. “i know— i know that i’m being cruel right now. but i just don’t think i can do this anymore.” he doesn’t like the way you shrink into yourself, hugging your body in an attempt to bring yourself some sort of comfort. when did his office begin to feel unwelcome to you? but above all he wants to ask what is this. is this something he can fix, something he can change right this instant so that you won’t be leaving him beneath the ocean to drown by himself.

“i’m going back to the surface. monsieur neuvillette offered me a position at the palais mermonia and i think that it’ll be a fresh new start for me,” you force a smile to your lips. you wait for him to say something, anything, but you are left with nothing but silence. it’s a choking silence that kills and you feel any sort of hope sink in your chest.

he doesn’t hear the silent plea in your words, the one that begs him to say, “don’t go.” instead he takes a deep breath and mumbles something under his breath, something that you choose not to try to hear because you know that if you try, you might just end up in the same cycle of trying to hear one another out and falling into a blanket of comfort that only lasts until the next time you feel the rope fraying.

“i suppose i’ll see you around then,” he chuckles and waits the way that you seem to relax. a smile, one that looks more genuine, crosses your lips as you nod. “strictly for work.” he adds, ignoring the little flash of hurt that flickers across your face. he doesn’t think that he could be friends so soon again. time is the only medicine for the heart of the duke of meropide, and perhaps, he thinks, just as these metal gates close themselves to the outside, he should close his own heart for the sake of himself.

you leave shortly after, apologies still slipping from your lips. neither of you make an attempt to hug or to extend hands out as you’re both too aware that to do so would only hurt more. but you’ve hammered the nail in, and there’s no coming back from that. wriothesley closes the door behind him, heart heavy and fingers trembling. he hears the door click shut, the locks falling into place and he seals a goodbye for the last time.

reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! <3 a/n: can't say i'm super happy w this piece but that's ok i need to get back into a writing cycle lol

[yunikyuuuu]

Mayari stands in front of someone's dorm while fidgeting a peculiar item in her hands. That dorm is Valentine Klein's, the Ultimate, or rather,*former* Ultimate Knight.

Why is she fidgeting there, you ask? During the investigation of his murder, Mayari somehow found her dead classmate's ghost and tried to talk to him. But the dead knight seemed......bitter? From apparently already being dead "twice in a row" at that time and told her that he needs time for himself for a long time. Mayari, sensing that she might've struck a nerve on accident, complied and left with a promise that she and their other classmates would solve his murder. And ever since then, she can't help but feel guilty even though she's told by one of Valentine's old friends, Kouki Paku, the Ultimate Professor from another quadrant, that she's not at fault when they met.

So why is she still there even after all of that? Because it's Valentine's birthday today. She found that out while she was reading through her Tozu Trinket and thought that she should leave a gift for him in his vacant dorm room. Even though she could just meet his ghost, she doesn't know how to approach him or face him without nearly accidentally agitating him again. So, by that logic, doing the former might seem for the best in her case.

Snapping out of her thoughts, she takes a deep breath and walks into the dead knight's dorm room. Inside there is like it's out of a storybook, with all of the medieval decor, and it even has rack for his armor. As amazing as it looks, Mayari doesn't have the mood to admire it.

"Hello, Sir Valentine." Mayari's hair glows white, and her eyes into blue as she says this. "I don't know if you can hear me or if you're probably somewhere else right now and just don't want to talk to me, but I'm just going to ramble for a bit, then I'll go and leave you alone for real this time. I, um.... I read from my Tozu Trinket that today's your birthday, so I have something for you."

Mayari places the same object she has been figeting with before onto his bed rest, and it turns out to be a necklace that has the shape of a sword. "I got this from the gachapon and thought of you." She then sits down on the floor beside Valentine's bed and hug her legs before continuing to retell everything that happened since their last encounter.

"We managed to find out who killed you like I promised, although.... We also knew that you asked them to do it to you and the fact that you took the Traitor Perk the night we had the bunk buddy system." She then whispers, "But don't worry, even though you were thrown under the bus, your partner eventually told Ozzie their identity when they got confronted by him and made him tell me about it. Your partner's trying to find a way out with what you both have and know."

Mayari then continues to retell with a normal tone, "Martorajah and Cherri opened up a new room, the Psi Sanctuary." She chuckles and shakes her head, "I think......you and Allie would've loved to live in there because there was a ballroom with some costumes to wear and props to use." She then makes a serious face, "Of course, the fun didn't last......Martorajah and Cherri also gave us a new motive, they gave some of us some sort of cards that give us a benefit and a cost to pay. I say "some of us" because the majority of us didn't make it in time to get those cards, and that means the majority of us wouldn't have anything to do with the next killing. At least, that's the benefit of having the "Commoner" card. I know that I didn't make it early, so I swear that I don't have any special card."

Mayari sighs and leans her head onto the edge of the bed, "But that's not the only thing that I've been worrying about. It's about Mallow." She then makes a somber face, "Ever since Allie got executed, both her and Kuya Ciano were determined to fight against the killing game for both of your sakes. Even more so on Mallow's part. But two days later, she somehow wilted. It's as if.......she immediately lost her will to fight. I even asked her if she was okay during the motive reveal, she just said no. While I appreciate her honesty about it, something tells me that there's definitely something more that's going on with her, but I chose not to press further." Mayari then covers her glowing blue eyes, "Mallow started to lock herself up in her dorm room after that. Ate Cecile asked me to get her to open up, I tried, nothing. Not even a noise came out of there. And even though it's been hopeless, I tried again, again, and again........... and I'm *still* trying." Her voice starts to crack at the last sentence.

"I......I don't know what else to do at this point, Sir Valentine. I'm doing *everything* I can to not overthink about the motive, about Mallow, and even...... even about our last conversation during the investigation of your murder..... I.... during the investigation and after the trial, I met someone from another quadrant. He said he knew you and that he's working on the ritual to bring you back."

She grips onto her hair in frustration as she continues, "Even though I should be happy about that, I can't help but wonder......Would you still have these memories and be upset at me for whatever I did or said during our last conversation? I know it really isn't my fault at that time, and I shouldn't feel guilty, but..... I still feel that way, even now. So, whatever I did or said, I'm so sorry....."

She takes a deep breath and another until she calms down, and the glow in her hair and eyes finally fade away. "I'm sorry, I......must've said too much and overstayed here now, huh?" She wipes off the tears that are creeping up in her eyes and fixes herself as she stands up. "I.....I'll go now, I won't bother you any further." She starts to walk away but turns back as she reaches for the door, "Oh, I almost forgot.........

Happy birthday, Sir Valentine."

She says with a wistful smile, opens the door, and finally leaves the dead knight's dorm room before closing the door.

[yanderecrazysie]

Distracted Part 2

Requested on Quotev

Title: Distracted Part 2

Pairings: Nishinoya Yuu x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes

Summary: Nishinoya is done being ignored.

Part 1: here

distracted

/adjective/

unable to concentrate because one's mind is preoccupied:

The world was silent. You weren’t used to that.

For years, you’d always had at least on earbud in at all times. Need to wash yourself? Take a bath and watch some anime. Sleeping time? Put on some music and drift off to dreamland.

To be without your headphones was… debilitating. Like one of your senses had been ripped away. A part of you, gone.

Maybe it was a bit strange to be so dependent on an object, but you couldn’t help but miss it. It would be a great comfort right now, considering the situation you’d found yourself in.

You shifted uncomfortably in the chair, the ropes chafing your skin as you did so. You’d been tied so tightly that you couldn’t move an inch.

You flinched as the door to the room you were kept in opened up and a boy came inside. Your face twisted in confusion as you tried to place his face. He looked familiar, but you were never good at identifying people.

“Who are you? What do you want?” You demanded, tears threatening to fall from your eyes as you held them back.

The boy jerked back, looking hurt. He seemed to wilt, head hanging low as he realized you didn’t recognize him. Even after he’d put so much effort into trying to get to know you. To get you to notice him back.

“I’m Nishinoya Yuu. I was your classmate.”

“Was”. That word was a real punch to the gut. It inferred that you no longer were considered a classmate. It meant that you weren’t going back to school anytime soon. If ever.

“Nishinoya,” you started, cringing at the way he seemed to relish the way you said his name, grinning widely back at you, “Please let me go, I don’t want to be here. I want to go home. I’m scared- please!”

Nishinoya didn’t look particularly concerned, still smiling broadly at you, “It will all be okay, sweetie!”

You didn’t believe him. Your breaths came in sharp bursts and you were forced to try even harder to hold back your tears. A panic attack was on the horizon.

Suddenly, you became a writhing mess, tearing your wrists’ skin as your tried to rip your hands free and twisting your ankle as you simultaneously worked on your legs. You flailed around so much that your chair fell backwards and, when it hit the ground, the air was knocked out of you.

“Wait! Calm down, (Y/n), calm down!” Nishinoya was lifting your chair up a moment later, trying desperately to soothe your panicking form. 

“No,” you blubbered, the tears finally escaping, “Just let me go! I wanna go home…”

Nishinoya wrapped you in a hug the best he could as you sobbed into his chest. It was strangely comforting, even if the person you were crying into was the person who brought you to tears in the first place.

You felt the pressure on your wrists disappear and were relieved to see that he had released your hands from their rope prison. To your disappointment, he left your ankles tied. It was better than nothing, at least.

“I know what will cheer you up!” Nishinoya gasped excitedly, as he pulled out two white objects from his pocket.

Upon closer inspection, you realized they were wireless earbuds. Fear crawled up your spine as you wondered how he knew you well enough to guess what specific thing could help your relax.

The boy leaned in and popped an earbud in each ear. Soft music played in your ears and your eyes widened when you heard it. One of your favorites…

Nishinoya gave a little wave as he left the room. You knew it was only temporary- that, in reality, these earbuds did nothing to protect you from potential harm your kidnapper could bring to you.

But it was a distraction.

And you welcomed it.

[marointhemoon]

It would have been fine...

Chapter 4

Travis hasn’t gotten consistent physical contact since he left the Horizon for the first time. He hasn’t had much reason to think much about it, either. And then some plant goes and attacks him and he’s starting to see why the lack of contact might be a problem.

This is a multi-chapter work. Click here to start from the beginning.

“Look,” Trip said to Travis. “I don’t know what yer family was like. I know plenty-a folks raise their boys to not have —or show, at least — any feelings, at all, ever.”

Malcolm knew instinctively that his father was one of the "folks" in question. Reed men were Navy men, he always said. Hard and assertive. He'd hesitated enough to be affectionate with his children—him especially—when they were small. At best, physical affection from Admiral Stuart Reed was something to be earned. The likelihood of that happening started small and only dwindled as they grew older.

“Personally, my momma wouldn’t have any of that,” Trip continued. “She’s always been a ‘hug it out and let it out’ type-a person, and she was always like that with us kids. And I know not everyone’s family’s like that, but I don’t know where you got the idea that you needing a goddamn hug would be a problem.”

That hit home. Malcolm stole a look at Trip, not that he noticed. He talked about it as though it were the norm, as though it were the ideal. Malcolm didn't wholly disagree, but the thought of being coddled like that made his stomach twist uncomfortably.

Travis had seen him staring by that point, so he did the sensible thing and looked away. As the argument faded into noise, Malcolm had the irrational urge to wonder what exactly Trip meant by that. Whose family? The sensible part of him knew that he'd meant nothing by it. Another part of him, something much more insecure, wondered how much Trip knew.

“So how do you ‘magine that need’s gonna get met?” Trip demanded, snapping Malcolm out of his spiral. Presumably, he meant the need for affection. He opened his mouth to speak, but Trip cut him off. “Or is it?”

Travis didn't immediately respond, seeming to wilt under his and Trip's joint gaze. “I—I just … it’s just kinda childish, you know? I know that sounds stupid, but … isn’t it?”

No, it isn't, you knobhead. He'd only barely bitten that back, choking a little on his own hypocrisy. Trip read his mind anyway. “What, to need a freakin’ hug?”

“Particularly in this situation?” Malcolm cut in, finally finding a bit of nerve.

The table froze for half a beat. Leave it to him: tactically adept but emotionally useless. Awkwardly, he cleared his throat and continued.

“I mean, sure, I’m with you on the general ‘don’t-ask-for-contact’ thing," he admitted, resolutely ignoring the searing look Trip gave him, "but it isn’t like there’s any other cure for the … whatever was in that pollen. Absent continuing to suffer in silence, I don’t see what other options you’ve got.”

Trip kept his gaze at him for a few more seconds. Despite the immediate heat of it, Malcolm knew it just meant he'd be facing a Trip Tucker "You Deserve to be Cared About" Heart-to-Heart later. He took a sip of his water, knowing he'd appreciate the lack of headache later. Case in point: emotionally useless but tactically adept.

Or so he thought. Trip started on some diatribe about not forcing Travis into a group hug or otherwise “embarrassing” him.

“But if ya need the help," he’d said, "ya need the help. It ain’t weird, it ain’t childish, it ain’t … whatever else ya think it is.”

Malcolm’s jaw clenched. The pollen notwithstanding, he had an inkling that Travis had been struggling. Homesickness, perhaps? Pure anxiety? He was a young-ish ensign on the premier warp-capable starship; naturally talented or not, it wasn't impossible. Then again, he was starting to suspect that the problem and solution were both simpler than he'd thought. And, loath as he was to admit it, more familiar. But here Trip was, reading his mind again.

“Being an engineering whiz didn’ give me psychic pow’rs. I can’t read yer mind."

Liar.

"If ya don’t wanna get the help from me, that’s fine. But if ya do, all ya gotta do is ask. No questions. That goes after we get through this whole deal, too.”

We. After we get through this. To the extent that that didn't send his own gut curling into knots, Malcolm agreed wholeheartedly. They were in this together. As Trip put a hand on Travis' shoulder, Travis shot him an overwhelmed glance, tears welling in his eyes. Malcolm found himself unable to do much more than nod, trying to put forth as supportive a look as he could manage. As many feelings as Trip was determined to foist upon him, this wasn't about him.

Trip was not the only older brother on the Bridge, but Malcolm found he had little experience on the subject. He and Madeline had been too far apart in most things.

But fuck it all. He’d do his best.

Chapters:

1 || 2 || 3 || 4 (you are here) || 5 ||

[blacklodgemusictx]

Salim Nourallah: Record Release Mini Tour - Night One

Standing in front of the Lonesome Rose honky tonk in San Antonio, I am keenly reminded of what it was *not* when I last stood here. When last here it was January. It was not 95 degrees.

I’m starting to sweat. I gravitate to available outdoor seating: a row of what appears to be old movie theater chairs… stuffing coming out through loose cushion stitches appears to be *squint* hair…?

Jason Garner is there. I’ve never actually spoken to him, but with his bare, tattooed arms and cheerful blue mohawk, he’s recognizable to say the least. He’s crouched over taking pictures of a cactus by the stairs. The cactus is smiling.

“We’ve never actually met. We’re LizNDoug (run it together. All one word. Can’t have one without the other… like peanut butter and jelly)… Salim’s friends.”

Sure! He’s seen us at shows. The same way we’ve seen him. He disappears inside to see if a Salim could be located. No, he’s gone off to eat.

I continue wilting. It’s 15 minutes to the announced door time, but there is no one around. Absolutely no one. The key to walking in where you may or may not belong is confidence. Just walk in. So we did.

The difference between the bright sunshine and the low light dazzles my eyes. A benevolent shadow form coalesces and hugs me. My eyes adjust. Olivia Willson-Piper. There she is being happy to see me again - still getting use to that: kind people being happy to see me for no other reason than my basic existence. She’s there with Marty having a bite to eat.

Marty is a vegetarian. He informs us while delicately unwrapping his… wrap (?) that he also doesn’t like peppers. He tweezes them out while we chat.

Olivia and I end up under a light source comparing tattoos. I start naming off the menagerie of animals that dot my arms. And let slip that my favorite chicken - an artistically rendered Lavender Orpington on my left forearm- is called Olivia. She seems delighted.

John Dufhilo appears. I haven’t really ever spoken to him before, but just like Jason Garner, he is immediately recognizable. We are Salim facilitated Facebook friends and not too long ago, I added my voice to those on said social media platform rejoicing as he recovered from a massive heart attack. He surprises and delights me with a hug. It is wonderful seeing him well and hearty.

Joe Reyes is there. We know him a little better than some of these satellites we have met in Salim’s orbit. He has the best smile. Seems genuinely delighted to just be in a room with air. The addition of friends and the opportunity to play music? Even better.

At some point Salim appears. It’s hard to talk amidst the bustle of a bar waking up for its nightly duties. Something upsetting happened to him the day before. I hug him. I got nightmare family news (related to the nightmare of my family… namely it’s toppled, usurped, disgraced patriarch. Daddy issues? I’ll have a lifetime subscription) this very day and have spent a good portion of my afternoon crying.

He’s going to play, “Let Go” from his new album, he tells me. I like it… this is an excellent idea. The *only* thing that would give me peace right now is that very [impossible] action.

Time passes. Positions shift. Marty dons glasses and moves to a different table. He looks like a stern bookkeeper going over accounts. In reality, he’s making a setlist.

More time passes. I don’t mind the wait. To get my fix in the vicinity of musicians, I used to queue up first thing in the morning and spend all day without food or water to be first in, front row for The Flaming Lips. My only reward for that might be a faraway wave from Steven or a chat with Kliph.

Sitting inside the dark and cool, talking to these fascinating people - my friends - this is heaven.

Early on, Doug is recruited to run merch. I’m not surprised. The merch table has become our station. Doug is in his element. Me? I’ll helpfully point at the records. Tell people after the set where the songs they thought were catchy originated. Tell them ‘A Nuclear Winter’ yes, that’s the newest one. But I stand here next to him proudly. Whatever you need. Whatever helps.

Salim and the Treefort Five are first to play tonight (he tells me later their new name is ‘Salim and the Philistines.’)

I am deeply deeply biased at this point… but they sound incredible to me. Seeing Salim backed by a full band… he comes alive in a completely new way as a performer. I’ve been lucky enough to behold this two other times - Sons of Hermann Hall in Dallas in 2019. Then this year (2023) opening for the Old 97s. I love my friend as an energetic front man.

This time is different and monumental. This time Marty. Marty Willson-Piper formerly of Australian band The Church (this man is the whole reason we were brought in to warm regard of Salim Nourallah - he and Doug share a mutual love of The Church.)

Marty and Olivia came over in 2018 to be enfolded in to the Nourallah musical family. Recording, producing has happened even with a global pandemic to work around.

This is work coming to fruition. Nuclear Winter finally birthed. Marty is finally on stage by Salim’s side. I know this is monumental for him and I love it. I love witnessing this. I love being here. Love that he wants me here. Love that these amazing people jam packed in to this tiny room are our friends now too.

The amassed gents rip through a mix of Salim standards and a heavy dose of things from the new album.

The set end nears. I’ve snapped my pictures. Taken my videos. All in the name of seeing; witnessing; presence.

Olivia is on stage. I know ‘Friends for Life’ is coming. That’s one she started playing on during the shows 6 mos ago. This one makes me sad. I have a dear dear friend who allowed me to turn him on to Salim (there is no greater compliment than to let me show you the music I love… then love it to). This is his favorite. My friend is in Greenland. I haven’t seen him in months.

Friends for life… if I had to sum up my time with Salim it would be with those three words. If you are lucky enough to ever be on the receiving end of Salim’s regard, you have a friend for life. Just shut up and enjoy the ride.

But then it’s time. Time to ‘Let Go’ - another song made more achingly beautiful with the deft application of Olivia’s bow.

I cry. Bitterly. Let go, he tells me, surrender to the things I can’t control. Best advice possible… I’m so far away from that right now, all I can do is feel sorry for myself.

The set is over. Back to husband in the merch nook (we’ve seen many incarnations. This one is nice. Padded booths made into their own cozy corner.)

I feel wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. An older gentleman asks me if I’m ok. Brings me water. Oh good. I look as bad as I feel.

The Deathray Davies are next. I know John Dufilho fronts this configuration, but I’ve never seen them. I also don’t know how many people are in the band. Musicians appear - to tired eyes - to swarm the stage like clowns from a tiny car.

They tear in to their first song and I like them immediately. Their energy is palpable and consuming. Nick Earl appears to be old school Seattle grunge: rakes his hands across an artfully battered Jazzmaster, long hair hanging in his face.

That energy is catching. I spy my first dancer of the evening. This woman gives no fucks and it is a scene to behold. Her shuck and jive is part Ministry of Silly Walks part scraping-gum-off-her-shoe. She gyrates with an oily self aware sensuality. At one point, her untethered breasts seem in danger of escaping. Not so fast. She doesn’t miss a beat: stuffs the offending mammary back down through the armhole of her sundress. Not today, titty.

She. Is. Magnificent.

Salim is with us at this point. I start relaying what I have seen to Doug. Salim wants in to the conversation. I smile thinking about how I will pay tribute to her, “Just getting inspired.”

It’s at this point, the night takes it’s massive, sudden toll. I’ve got a stabbing pain in the back of my head. Great. When I fantasize about death, it’s quick. I don’t want to stroke out. Here I come, it’s The Big One.

… or I’m hungry and tired and dehydrated.

Salim says it’s ok, you don’t have to stay. Marty and Olivia are already gone. The place has cleared out in a hurry. Even those disciplines of rock have to get home at a reasonable hour on a weekday. There’s work in the morning.

I hate to miss Buttercup, but I don’t think Joe will blame me for feeling poorly.

So we sneak off to the healing powers of Whataburger.

I will live to rock another day.

[dualnaturedscientist]

If Matthew was going to be honest about one thing, he never expected to have mornings like this with Carl once more. Just being able to be with him, having a domestic morning. It filled his heart with joy each time. This happiness he felt, with his husband. His children in his life once more. He once thought it was impossible. How much things change in such a short time. One thing for sure, Matthew wasn't ever going to make such a huge mistake like that. Corbin was wrong about a few things. For one, He definitely felt remorse for what he's done. Regret it every moment. Spending as much time as he could to make up for the horrific events that took place all those years ago. It wouldn't undo it but it would be an effort. Effort that mattered to no one but to him. His thoughts drifted back to this half sibling. Corbin knew who they were. Though, as much as he does want to find out just who they were. Many things popped up in his mind. Carl was right about not getting his hopes up too high but the thought of a sibling. Potentially becoming family to him. It was intriguing enough for him to possibly ask Corbin about who they are. Where they could be. If they were less than an ideal person to me, at least he would still have his husband by his side. He would still have his children. They were still building their relationship but it was certainly heaps better than what it was a year ago. They hadn't realized how much time had passed until Carl had glanced at the clock. "Oh, dearest. If you don't get going soon you'll miss the bus. We don't want you missing out on your community service, do we?" Matthew couldn't help but chuckle. It was funny how the roles seemed swapped now. Carl staying at home, him going out. Though it wasn't a job, it was something. "Thank you, love. I'll be back early today." He finished up what was left of his breakfast. Quickly kissing Carl before he headed out. Carl smiled though when Matthew stepped out of the door, his smile fell. There was still the matter of getting him something to do. To keep him from going stir crazy. He also couldn't help but worry about Matthew. What would come out of him meeting his half sibling. Either way, he won't leave Matthew's side. On the other side of the city, Patricia couldn't concentrate on her note taking. Hugh looked like he hadn't slept a wink. He looked like a wilted daisy if anything. She absolutely hated it. The way he seemed so out of it. Sadness and worry in his eyes for Alan. She wanted to stop what she was doing much to going over to Hugh and hug him tightly. Though Patricia knew by doing that, it would just make her best friend feel all the more worse. Archie soon walked in, noticing the same thing she had. He frowned. Going over to Patricia, he spoke just low enough so only she could hear him. “Poor guy, I wish there was something more we could do for him. Out of everyone, he doesn't deserve this kind of pain. Well, any pain really. As scary as he can get when it comes to someone's health. But that's only because he cares.” Patricia sighed. “Yeah, I hate seeing him like this too. It's so painful to see already. Yet we can't underestimate Alan. The guy is a lexiconian.” Archie nodded. They knew he would be able to handle himself. Even Hugh did but that didn't mean it stopped him from feeling this way. They watched as Hugh seemingly finished up whatever task he was doing. Shambling off only to bump into Jenkins. “Sorry. Didn't see you there.” Jenkins frowned seeing his friend in such a state. “It's okay. How about you go to rest up? You look exhausted.” Hugh frowned as well. “Can't. Will start worrying again.” This was definitely something they weren't going to brush off. Their friend putting off his own wellbeing? Yeah, they better hurry up and help Gene and Tristan find Alan soon. Hugh proceeded to mumble something and shuffle off. None of them knew the reason he was so tired besides worrying himself sick. Hugh was roaming through the city, calling out for Alan in hopes of finding him. Unfortunately it was for naught. Only getting an hours sleep.

Heart of chaos

A year had passed since the B.E.A.W Labs organization had fallen. Since all the events had taken place. Becky being taken along with Bob. The poor girl being experimented on by a cruel scientist who had no love for anyone but himself. Matthew had broken out of the facility with her, Carl and Steven. Gene's true identity being revealed along with losing his Dr.Two-Brains persona. Shocking revelations unfolded. Betrayals and redemption. Things had calmed down significantly since but that didn't mean life had been dull. It certainly wasn't for Fair City. Especially with the villains, heroes and its eccentric inhabitants livening up the city. Becky had been making a wonderful recovery. Though she still wasn't at her full recovery Becky was still making so much more progress than the year prior. Gene still had identity issues, dealing with the loss of Squeaky. Though he didn't go through it alone. The still mad scientist had his family and friends help him through everything. Matthew and Carl took up residency within the city. A house that wasn't too far from their sons. Life in this place was definitely lively and peaceful in comparison to the hellish place many innocent souls were imprisoned in. Matthew was less exhausted than before. Relaxing within the living room in his son's house, watching whatever was put on the television. Matthew felt his eyes beginning to droop. Sleepiness hitting him out of nowhere. He simply allowed himself to doze off, not fighting it. Knowing that he was safe there. It wasn't until he felt weight on him that Matthew opened his eyes. Usually a dog or cat would be the cause for this but Matthew met many eyes. Fluffy had snuck into the house yet again. A small warm smile spread across his facial features, patting the spider on its head. Fluffy leaned into Matthew's hand, making soft happy noises. It was funnily cute to him. Though he understood as to why Gene was so afraid of him. Even Carl was squeamish around the giant spider. “Aw, who's a good boy? You are! You're a good boy!” Matthew couldn't help but baby talk the arachnid. He looked up, wriggling his chelicerae in response. As to say ‘Me! I'm a good boy!’ He chuckled at that, giving Fluffy gentle scritches. It was like a huge puppy in a spider's body. Though the peacefulness was interrupted by a sudden shout. “NO! WHY IS IT HERE AGAIN?!” Gene was in the doorway of the living room. Looking quite terrified at the huge arachnid. Fluffy instantly moved around on Matthew's lap to look at Gene. Excitedly jumping off of the supervillain's lap in favor of his son. He bolted right for the mad scientist, causing him to yelp loudly and make a run for it. “SOMEONE KEEP THAT ABOMINATION AWAY FROM ME!” Matthew gave a small laugh. “Can't help but feel abit rejected there.” Archie, who was quiet until then, responded. “I know that feeling.” This caused Matthew to jump up startled. “Don't do that! I'm old. Also I could accidentally blast you.” Archie blinked in confusion. “You didn't notice me? I came in with Fluffy. He got loose and snuck into the house. I just came to bring him back before he got to Gene. Too late for that now.” Archie frowned. “I can't help but be jealous at how much Fluffy loves him. Though Gene is terrified of him. That spider just won't listen to me when it comes to his favorite person.” He shook his head disapprovingly. “You want me to help you?” Matthew was being genuine with his question. He didn't want his son dying of fright from the giant arachnid. “That would be greatly appreciated. I have to take him back home. He can't avoid taking his medication this time.” Matthew got up, stretching first before doing anything else. This earned him a strange look from Archie. “What? I said I'm old. If I don't stretch I'll pull a muscle.” The hero shrugged. “Let's go get him soon. I have to look after Charlotte as well.” Archie always had the brightest smile when Charlotte was brought up. Either by him, Sunshine or anyone else. It was sweet. “Alright, alright.” They were completely unaware of an enemy observing them. Waiting.

Miss Power growled in frustration at the display she was witnessing through a window to the Boxleitner or rather the Woods household. A display she thought was very disgusting. How badly the alien conqueror wanted to charge right in their and obliterate everyone in her sights. She couldn't do her usual tactics and tricks right now, not after what she learned after coming back. She was still ticked off after that little alien brat Wordgirl and her parents dupe and tricked her into leaving the planet in defeat. There was no way she could go back to her planet and face her people with such a shameful stain to her otherwise brilliant record. Fueled by revenge and hatred, Miss Power spent her time preparing, training, and waiting so she could exact her revenge against those who wronged her, against the little hybrid girl and her freak of a family that humiliated her. Sadly when Miss Power and her loyal sidekick Colonel Gigglecheeks did decide to return, they were not prepared for the recent changes that had happeend in their absence. Miss Power did not care much for this Darius person or B.E.A.W labs, she had seen those like them a dime a dozen before on other worlds. The alien wished she could have congratulated the person who tortured and dehumanized Wordgirl and her sidekick. If it was up to her, Professor Ross Moran would receive high honors among her people for his actions. She did give her condolences at his unmarked gravestone. While the recent trauma Wordgirl and her sidekick have suffered gave Miss Power an opportunistic advantage, the alien conquerer unfortunately could not risk using it especially with her grandfather around. Miss Power was amazed at hearing about the past and recent exploits of Maddrix the Malicious. She was shocked that someone so bloodthirsty and powerful was the father of that scientist who used to have a mouse brain attached to his skull as well as a weird cheese obsession. To her disappointment, Miss Power could clearly see the man was too human and had regretted his actions in the past. Actions that would have made him highly respected among her people despite him being human. Still Miss Power wasn't going to risk striking back while that old coot was still alive. Age did not always equate to weakness according to what she had been taught. Even though he was old, Maddrix was clearly still powerful. It was likely that her and Gigglecheeks would wind up dead by the man's hands before they could claim revenge and victory. A chittering sound snapped Miss Power out of her musings. She turned her head to see her sidekick give her a concerned look. He chittered again and asked 'So what are we going to do?' Miss Power smiled and scratched her sidekick's head which he enjoyed. "Don't worry Colonel Gigglecheeks. We'll get our revenge soon. We just need to learn more about Mr. Malicious and what weaknesses he might have so we can use it to defeat him." Miss Power cooed. She then took her sidekick and flew off without anyone being the wiser. Miss Power was brash and bold and could be tricked sometimes, but she was no fool. The alien conqueror learned long ago that the best way to win your battles was to be prepared and know your enemy more than they know themselves. Carl sighed with relief and slight exhaustion as he sat down in a comfy chair. He had just finished sweeping the floor of his and Matthew's home. Now all he had to do was sit and relax until his husband got home. Carl wanted to try a nice 'mom and pop' owned restaurant that one of Gene's friends, Chuck, had recommended to the man. Carl had been itching to get out and do something more and more recently. If he had to be honest, he was getting bored. In the past, Carl had his job and work as a scientist to keep him occupied along with spending time with his husband and kids. Unfortunately after his 20 year imprisonment, Carl couldn't step in another official science lab ever again without a severe anxiety and panic attack @dualnaturedscientist

[strawberrysins]

Flowers (Alastor x fem!reader)

Warnings: Female reader, feelings of inadequacy, insecurity, and FLUFF. SO MUCH FLUFF.

(A/N: So uhhhh, this is late. the worst part is that I wrote this months ago, I just completely forgot about it. Sorry this is so late, I didn't remember that I had written this Valentine's Day oneshot until I was looking through my drafts. Anway, I hope you enjoy it!)

Valentine's day. The day to hold your loved ones close and tell them how much you care for them. Alastor always thought of this as a stupid holiday that corporations probably came up with just to make their consumers feel like they have to spend excessive amounts of money just to prove how much they love each other. Plus, he found the idea of having a day to show your beloved how much they meant to you silly. Shouldn’t you do that every day? The whole concept seemed off to him.

That was until he fell for you. He still didn’t like the corporations part, but having an excuse just to throw gifts and hugs and everything amazing at you for a whole day? You didn’t have to tell him twice! Plus, he knew you liked the holiday, with your cheerful and frankly adorable personality and all. But of course, being the “heartless” man he was, he had never bought anybody a valentine’s day gift. Meaning, that when the day drew near, he had no clue what to get you. He could always ask Charlie, but he was a little embarrassed too. The feared Radio Demon asking what to get his girlfriend for valentine’s day? Preposterous! He was honestly, a little terrified to ask Angel, knowing he would get a less-than-savory response. Vaggie would know, but she and him weren’t exactly on the best of terms. And the others probably wouldn’t know any more than him. Honestly, the only person he would feel comfortable asking a more intimate question, such as this, would be you. But obviously, he couldn’t do that. So, he resorted to the next best thing, spying! He and his shadows lurked in dark corners and allies as they watched the common people of hell collect things to gift to their lovers. He noted the most common things, such as sweets, stuffed animals, and jewelry. He also saw a lot of red and pink, along with hearts. Unfortunately for him, not the actual organ, but the heart symbol. If he could just rip out someone’s heart to give to you, that would be much simpler! But of course, nothing was that easy. 

The one thing that he noticed every demon had though, was flowers of some sort. Almost always roses. This was a problem for him. He knew you adored flowers, and he would LOVE to see your face light up as he handed you some of your favorites. But, he was cursed with wilting any flower he came close to. This power was never a problem, in fact, he found it quite amusing, until now. He couldn’t give you a wilted flower. He knew that. He thought that he would be very appreciative of one, should he be gifted it, but he knew that you wouldn’t. You and him just found flowers beautiful in different ways. Giving you fake flowers almost seemed insulting. And he didn’t want them to be delivered straight to you, because then he would never get to see your reaction. Plus, he wants to make sure every gift you receive is perfect, and he can’t inspect the flowers to make sure they are, so he would be left at the mercy of the person arranging them. He couldn’t even watch from afar, as sometimes even looking at them was enough to completely drain them of all their life and color. He loathed the idea of seeing your precious smile fall after seeing your beautiful flowers die right in front of your eyes. So what was he to do? 

He was panicking about this for the three days leading up to valentines day. A valentines day gift simply wasn’t complete without flowers it seemed. But he physically couldn’t hand you them, or even look at them. But a man HAD to give a woman flowers that befit her beauty. But he simply couldn’t. But he would sooner be caught playing modern video games than giving you a subpar gift for valentines day. He was really starting to freak out about this! So, he came to only one conclusion. He would simply have to give your more of all the other stuff to make up for it!

He spent the whole day before finding the most extravagant and beautiful gifts for you. Only the best of gifts for the best of women! The finest and most expensive chocolates in all of hell? Absolutely. The most lavish jewelry made with all your favorite gemstones? Obviously! A teddy bear bigger than you? Definitely. Only the best. He even replaced the bow tie it had on with one that matches his. He wanted everything to be perfect. He even made reservations at the nicest restaurant on this side of the pentagram. It is usually impossible to get reservations so last minute, but with some convincing, he was able to work miracles! Usually, he would want to make you dinner, but he will be so busy spoiling you tomorrow, that he won’t have the time. It’s fine, you eat his cooking almost every day. Soon, he found that he was running out of places to hide all this stuff in the hotel. No Matter, he would just have to make space in his pocket dimension.

Finally, it was late, almost midnight. Soon, the special day would come, and everything will be perfect for you. A whole day just to give you gifts and to snuggle you. He was over the moon. He was just a tad bit worried that even the extensive amount of gifts he bought you, won't replace the lack of romantic flowers. Every woman dreams of being gifted her favorite flowers by her love, and he couldn’t give that to you. This was one of the many reasons he just didn’t deserve you. He nervously looked up from his desk, and to the pile of things on the other side of the room. It had everything someone could buy for the holiday, perfumes, dresses, cards, The only thing missing was flowers. The one thing he wanted to give you the most. The most romantic thing he could do for you was to give you a beautiful red rose on the most romantic day of the year. And he couldn’t. 

He felt his smile shrink a bit, and decided to go back to focus on what he was currently working on. A love poem for you. He had never written poetry. Never even tried. But he heard it was another romantic practice, and decided he could give it a try. It was much more challenging than he expected. How could one articulate such complicated and indescribable feelings through written words? He crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it in the trash can by his desk, which was full of more failed pieces. Just as he reaches to grab another piece, he hears a light knock at his office door. In the blink of an eye, his shadow dove through the small crack under the door and came back to Alastor to tell him who it was. To Alastor’s delight, it was you! 

He jumped up from his chair and hurriedly made his way over to the door. He carefully opened it as little as possible for him to slide out and greet you. Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. He has never done that before. He always politely opened to door for you to come in, or if he was really busy just shouted for you to let yourself in. You have never seen him just squeeze his way out to try to hide the sight of his office from you. 

“How may I help you, my darling?” he asked, tilting his head slightly, a gesture you always found utterly adorable.

“Well I came here to wish you a happy Valentine's day,” you stop for a second as a few nearby clocks start chiming, signaling it was now midnight. “But now I am more interested in what you are trying to hide from me in there” You lean to the side a bit and peer around him to the door, only for your vision to be blocked again as he stepped in front of you. You were honestly a little concerned. He had been kind of ignoring you these past few days, and now he is trying to hide something from you. Although, you would be lying if you said you didn’t have the slightest idea. You caught a glimpse of Niffty shoving some bright pink boxes behind a bookshelf while muttering about how Alaster ought to give her a raise.

You turn to look back up at him, deciding to give him a more stern look. You were going with the ‘mother scolding her child who obviously broke something and is lying about it’ approach. Crossing your arms and tapping your foot, you never stopped looking directly into his eyes, waiting for his response. 

Alastor could feel your eyes pierce directly through him and into his soul. You could read him like a book. He started to nervously look around, avoiding eye contact and starting to desperately come up with an excuse. He could technically give you your gifts now, but he wanted to wait until you woke up in the morning, like what was proper. 

This whole scene would look absolutely ridiculous to anybody walking by. A horrifying being of darkness and destruction getting treated like a misbehaving toddler by someone half their size. 

“Well my dear, you see, I was, well,” He finally looked you in the eyes, after coming up with a sufficient topic changer. “Well my dear, I think we should be paying more attention to the fact that you are still awake. And at this ungodly hour of the night! Ridiculous! We must get you straight to bed.” He grabs your arm and starts hurriedly leading you to your room. 

You were awake this late because you had only just finished with his gifts, but you couldn’t tell him that. So instead you went with, 

“Well, I just couldn’t sleep without you. Where have you been all week? I miss you.” 

Meanwhile, Alastor can’t tell you where HE’S been, so all he can do is try to switch to conversation back to you. 

You guys just go back and forth until you are in your room, getting dressed in your nightwear. You eventually break and just give up with your attempted interrogation. 

“You know what? Whatever! You keep your secrets you vile, evil man!” You said the last part with an obvious tone of sarcasm, so he doesn’t accidentally take it to heart. Alastor let out a small sigh of relief, knowing that you would finally stop trying to tear into him, and he could stop trying to do the same to you. He really didn’t care what you were doing. You are always up this late on your phone. He tiredly climbed into bed where you happily joined him. You cuddled up close to his side as he carefully wrapped his arms around you. You tilted your head up slightly and placed a soft kiss on his lips, which he graciously returned. 

Perhaps he isn’t perfect, and maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but he has you. He has you and he knows you love him, and he loves you, more than anything else. You two love each other, and that is all you need. Not flowers, not poems, not gifts, or any material object. Just with each other, you two can be happy. 

P.S. you totally got him some wilted flowers and spent a long LONG time trying to convince him the next day that flowers weren’t actually that important.

[nofoundboy]

Jason Voorhees x male reader fluff

Reader is just in a really sad mood that day and jason comes up with an idea of how he can help. (Hot Chocolate!)

Jay fluff is always neccesary

Jason, male reader and hot chocolate

The day was rainy and seemed to want to match your mood, filling the sky with thick gray clouds. You didn't feel like getting up at all, and it didn't help that Jason had gotten up early to go chop wood and patrol the perimeter of the camp.

Still, you would never forgive yourself for being a nuisance to your man, so you got up not without some heaviness and began the chores around the cabin.

Your joints felt as if they were made of wood as if your whole body suffered a response to your state of mind. Memories of your past and other regrets about your personality came flooding back, crushing you with their overwhelming weight. Still, it was always better to work to exert a placebo effect on that pain.

You paced back and forth, stacking the firewood Jason had cut into neat piles. No dry leaves stood in the way and the cabin was gleaming. The only thing that seemed to spoil the tame and cozy atmosphere of the place was the gray pile of sadness you had become.

There was no longer any duty to occupy your body and mind, so you could do nothing but lie on the couch and wait for Jason to return.

You had no desire to do any of the hobbies that kept you occupied during Jason's absences, so you simply curled up in a ball, weeping silently and falling into brief lapses of sleep.

At dusk, you heard Jason's heavy footsteps in the doorway of the cabin. You didn't want him to see you in that state, so you got up quickly, wiped your tears, and fixed your messy hair as best you could.

When you opened the door you examined him from top to bottom, to make sure he hadn't suffered any injuries or mishaps. Fortunately, he had nothing out of the ordinary, his clothes weren't even soaked, just a little damp.

"How did it go, my love?" you said forcing a smile as he set his machete down next to the entrance.

"It went well," he said with his hands. He wrapped his arms around you and you leaned your head on his chest, seeking the comfort of his heartbeat.

He slowly pulled you away from him, and then he noticed your face.

You couldn't hide how terribly puffy your eyes were after a whole day of crying, you hadn't even eaten properly and he noticed that when he saw the same amount of food as yesterday.

"Oh, Jason, he's not well" his mother's voice reaffirmed what his eyes were telling him. He gently held you and led you to the couch.

"What's wrong?" he asked without taking his eyes off your face. The gentle and loving way he treated you only caused the tears to swell, your cheeks were soaked and you were holding back sobs. The thought that you didn't deserve him, became huge in your head.

Jason couldn't help but think that he had hurt you in some way, the way his eyes traveled from your face to every corner of the cabin told you that he was desperately searching for an answer.

"Today was a very bad day. My mind traveled to ugly places I didn't want to go back to" you stated instantly to keep him from blaming himself.

You didn't know what else to explain, for that was precisely what had happened.

You looked like a wilted flower, bent and colorless before him. He could not allow that to continue, so he searched in his mind for some action or words that might cheer you up.

A memory of his mother, preparing hot chocolate for him when he was a child, illuminated his mind. Thinking of Pamela in the kitchen, melting the chocolate bar in the boiled milk while humming a sweet song for him, brought him the happiness you seemed to need.

He gave you a brief hug before hurrying to the kitchen. Fortunately, he had all the ingredients, so he didn't spend any more time getting started.

His big fingers slowed the pace a bit, but he knew well how to do it after having seen it so many times, so after half an hour he pushed you gently but enthusiastically, all the way to the kitchen.

He finished stirring and immediately poured the hot liquid generously into a cup.

"That's my Jason," whispered his mother, touched by the attentions her son paid you.

"Chocolate cheers you up, it helps when you're sad" he slid the cup towards you and nodded softly "when I was little my mom used to make it for me."

"Thank you, honey" you whispered as your hands reached for the warmth the cup conveyed. The gesture was so sweet that you couldn't help but giggle, comforted by Jason's actions.

You blew a little on the liquid so you could drink it. At the first sip, your eyes widened.

"It's delicious, Jason, thank you so much" you slid your hand across the table until you reached his, which you squeezed like the shipwrecked man clinging to the boat that just saved him.

"I love you" he pulled his hands away briefly to form the words and immediately returned to his grip on your hand.

"I love you too" your insides felt warm and that unpleasant cloud seemed to dissipate. For if Jason loved you, in that chocolate-sweet way, nothing else mattered.

[safic4-m]

💛So beautiful

Pairing: Cordelia Goode x Fem Lector

Author’s note: Request made bycherylz170810, who asked for a one shot with Cordelia, smut, jealousy on her part and both being powerful witches. I know you wanted more drama but I feel that’s not the essence of Cordelia, so I hope you like it and I’m sorry for the delay.

CONTEXT: Y/n is capable of destroying-killing everything she touches.

~Master list~

One-shot

Wattpad

Flashback

She was already in the coven when Cordelia arrived, she was very shy at first and usually spent her time alone in the greenhouse; the opposite of you and somehow you became best friends.

You felt your heart beating a thousand beats a minute, this was your only chance to confess your feelings to Cordelia.

It was now or never, you had already come of age and you couldn’t stay at the academy. The deal was that you would stay at Rubichaux Academy until you came of age and when you did you would return to be in charge of your coven.

You take a deep breath before knocking on the door of her room.

-Since when do you knock to come in?- she asks sarcastically letting you in.

-I…mhh, I just wanted to talk to you.

-Oh…what is that you have there?- looking at the bouquet behind you.

-Right…- feeling your cheeks warm up -they are for you- handing him the flowers.

-My favorites- taking the bouquet and you see a smile grow on his face- thank you very much- before hugging you.

-How did you get them?- she asks, referring to the fact that they are not yet in season.

-I grew them myself,- you say smiling shyly.

GOD, YOU WERE A GAY MESS WHEN YOU WERE WITH HER.

-What did you want to talk about?- sitting down on her bed and patting the spot next to her.

-Well…you’ve known us for a long time and…- you take a second before continuing -I think I like you…no, I really like you and when I say I like you, I mean in a romantic way…just like Myrtle likes clothes, I don’t mean that you are clothes…- and you started to ramble on

-I’m very flattered,- she says shushing you, -but I don’t see you the same way and I hope this doesn’t make things weird,- giving you a smile.

You stop because you can’t stand next to her, it feels like she’s ripped your heart out and shattered it to pieces.

-Oh…- inhaling deeply, -It’s okay- forcing a smile.

Cordelia’s flowers wilt without you having to touch them, the blonde is surprised to see it and turns to look at you scared. Suddenly the whole room starts to shatter, the walls crack, the furniture rots and the atmosphere becomes too heavy.

Cordelia tries to call out to you but you seem to be in a trance, the more she calls out to you the harder it becomes to breathe, before she loses consciousness she manages to see Myrtle entering the room.

When she woke up she found out that you were gone, no matter how much she begged Myrtle she didn’t tell her where, she simply handed her a letter that you had left her.

Dear Delia

I am so sorry for what happened, I felt bad about your rejection and that’s why I acted that way, but that doesn’t justify my actions. I hope you find someone who makes you happy because you deserve the best in the world, it doesn’t matter that Fiona says otherwise, you do.

By the time you read this I will no longer be at the academy and it’s better this way because I couldn’t bear to see you after what I did, I feel so ashamed for not being able to control my powers and hurt you.

Thank you for giving me your friendship

Love and always yours Y/n

End of Flashback

But here you were, many years later at a small celebration that had been held at the academy to bring all the witches together and create alliances. In all honesty Cordelia would never have noticed you if Myrtle hadn’t told her you were there. You looked completely different from how Cordelia remembered you and it seemed that the years had done you good.

But a strong feeling of anger was growing inside the supreme one, she knew she had had her chance, but at that time she had been too stupid to realize how she really felt about you; but here she was watching you from across the room talking to a woman in a very friendly way.

The blonde decides to take action as she sees the woman approaching you to whisper something in your ear, her blood was boiling by this point, a few witches tried to approach her, but she was willing to achieve her objective

^^^^

You honestly weren’t paying attention to Agatha and felt somewhat bad about it, but you kept looking for a certain blonde who had broken your heart so many years ago.

You saw Myrtle when you arrived and wanted to ask her about Cordelia’s whereabouts, but didn’t want to sound desperate.

The small “talk” is interrupted before the arrival of the supreme one, Agata tries to engage her in conversation, but instead of paying attention to her she grabs your arm and pulls you out of the place. While you recover from the clearly forced little tour, you take a second to admire the woman in front of you, she looked as beautiful as you remembered her, the supremacy had suited her quite well, making that spark that existed in her ignite creating a blinding light all around her.

-It’s also good to see you again,- you say breaking the silence between you.

-I’m sorry, it’s just that I wanted to talk to you,- she says feeling all the confidence leaving her body.

-And that’s why you dragged me here,- mocking the witch.

-I wanted to do it in a quieter place,- stumbling over the words as a blush creeps up her cheek.

-Yeah…well that’s not what your thoughts say.

I didn’t know I could hear thoughts…GOD and now what am I supposed to do, I don’t even know what to say to her.

-Your thoughts are so noisy,- letting out a giggle, -are you forgetting that you’re not the only witch with great blonde powers?

-I…“ she opens her mouth but the words don’t come out.

Of course she knew it, during your time in the academy she saw how your power grew and you left the other witches behind; but everything about you was so imposing, all that confidence and dominant energy that emanated from you, was new to her.

-God you are so cute when you are nervous,- you say holding her face with love.

-I’m not…- but the blush on her cheeks gives her away.

-So… widow,- changing the subject, leaving her alone for now.

-You heard about it- averting her gaze.

-A direct attack on Marie Leveau by a witch hunter who betrayed her, who was hired to wipe out the witches of the academy and on top of that he was your husband…of course I heard about it-, showing a smug smile.

She didn’t know what to answer, it was obvious that she hadn’t made the best decisions in her past and now she was regretting it. You were here in front of her and she didn’t know how to start, there was so much to say, she wanted to know everything about you, to make up for lost time, but there was a question that echoed in her head.

Are you single?

-I am,- you say seeing the confusion written on her face, -I am single,- placing a kiss on her lips.

Quickly he grabs your hips, claiming your lips, making you moan at his desperation, you break the kiss to attack his neck eliciting small moans as his hand tangles in your hair.

-Anyone can come and see us,- he says between gasps.

-It’s ok,- pulling away from her.

-What, why did you stop?- she asks, watching you fix your clothes.

-You said that anyone can come and see us,- smirking at her reaction.

-But I didn’t mean that I stopped you.

-Besides I’m sure you don’t want them to see their big supreme one moaning for my touch…or do you?- you say in her ear listening to her moaning because of how hoarse your voice sounds.

-No,- forcing a deep breath.

-Then we’d better go somewhere more private,- you say, forcing Cordelia to transmute you both to her room.

You barely notice your new surroundings and you already have Cordelia on top of you, she starts leaving kisses on your neck making you sigh, she starts sucking on a particularly sensitive spot and your hand gets tangled in her hair, pulling it as a warning.

-Without leaving a mark,- you say letting yourself be carried away by everything you feel.

He begins to open the buttons of your shirt, kissing down the newly exposed skin, his breath catching at the sight of your breasts contained by a lacy black bra.

-My eyes are up here,- you say playfully making her blush furiously, -I think you have too many clothes on,- licking your lips as you look down at her black dress.

You help her take off her dress, leaving her only in her underwear.

-So beautiful,- you whisper, seeing a blush cover her face and part of her chest.

-Now you’re the one with too many clothes on,- she says boldly making you laugh before stripping off your pants.

Your lips meet again and you move them both to the bed, you break the kiss making him sit up and climb into his lap, you both stand there for a moment looking at each other.

-I’m sorry,- you say brushing aside a strand of hair.

-You don’t have to apologize,- she replies smiling softly.

-I don’t… I have to, I could have hurt you badly,- you say with melancholy.

-But you didn’t, besides if I had been honest with myself, maybe you would have never left,- putting his arms around you.

-You know it’s not like that, I would have to leave to do my duty-, wrapping his arms around your neck, closing more and more the space between us.

-I know, but I feel we wasted a lot of time,- hiding his face in the space between your neck.

-Then we’d better hurry to get it back,- making her laugh and you feel a current run through your body.

She moves away to kiss you and you feel her tongue asking for permission, she starts to explore your mouth while one of your hands moves to unbutton her bra, already with the garment out of the way you leave kisses along her jaw, on the extension of her neck, until you reach the valley between her breasts, you look at her from your place and smile at the beautiful view.

-Y/n..please- pulling your hair.

-I like the way you say my name,- planting a kiss.

You haven’t done anything yet and you already have her moaning in anticipation.

-Please,- she says again, and you decide to give her what she wants.

With one hand you knead one of her breasts, while your lips are wrapped around her other nipple, a series of curses come out of the blonde with the grip on your hair tighter, this action encourages you to graze your teeth on the hardened bud.

After repeating your actions on the other breast you get off her lap and get down on your knees on the floor, you spread her legs apart having a direct view to see how wet she is.

-I’m flattered that I’m the one making you wet like this,- leaving a trail of kisses between her thighs.

-Stop playing… fuck…

She interrupts herself the moment you run your tongue over her panties, even with the piece of cloth getting in your way you can still manage to taste it.

-You taste so good,- you say without taking your eyes off her face and watching as a crimson color covers her cheeks.

This reaction doesn’t go unnoticed by you and she remembers how shy they used to get when you flattered her. As you remove her panties you splash kisses your way, your eyes never leaving her face as you dive between her legs, her taste is so addictive it makes you moan, making Cordelia bite her lip to stifle her moans.

You suck on her clit earning her pulling your hair harder and letting out a small moan; one of her hands is gripping the sheets and you notice how her knuckles turn white from the tight grip.

Cordelia had had sex before, but this felt different, you knew where to touch to make her squirm under your touch; she felt the familiar knot building in her lower stomach and the sensation of your tongue working on her was pushing her to the limit.

-I’ll make it the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life,- you say, leaving a kiss on her thigh, before diving back down between her legs.

When your tongue makes contact again you make Cordelia let out a loud moan, you had made her senses intensify, that implied that everything you did she felt 10 times more intense; you see how Cordelia falls backwards unable to hold all the amount of pleasure you make her feel and getting closer to get her release.

Hitting an exact spot you make her come, making your face covered with her juices and you didn’t stop until she had to pull you away from her because of how sensitive she feels.

-You did very well,- not before leaving a kiss on each thigh.

Wiping some of her juices with your hand you settle in next to her drawing random patterns on her skin as you wait for her to recover.

Opening her eyes Cordelia finds you looking at her with such adoration that it makes her chest heave.

-How are you feeling?

-That… was…- breathing heavily.

You chuckle softly brushing aside a lock of hair and leaving a kiss on her cheek.

-I hope I didn’t miss it on my hand.

Now it’s Cordelia’s turn to laugh, since a few minutes ago you were between her legs eating her like it was your last meal.

-How did you do that?

-I simply intensified your senses making you feel everything 10 times more,- finishing with a smirk.

The moment is broken by the sound of someone knocking on the door,

-Delia, dear, you should be downstairs,- Myrtle says from the other side of the door.

You notice how the blonde is tensing up and you decide to take the reins of the situation, with a simple movement of your hand you make them both dressed and you approach to open the door.

-I’m sorry for barging in, it’s just that I wanted to talk to her,- you say, offering a smile to the woman.

-I’m sure,- not believing you in the least, -there’s a woman looking for you, she says she has some business to attend to.

-Oh… apparently I have to go, it was nice to see you again,- hugging Myrtle, -I hope we can catch up later Delia,- saying goodbye to her with a kiss on the cheek.

AND THEY LIVED THE REST OF THEIR LIVES DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE.

FIN

[postalenha]

on and off % jake

pairing: playboybf!jake x reader genre: angst, fluff, lovers to exes, exes to lovers idek word count: 1.89k words requested: yes / prompt 14, “we called it off again last night.” / 18, “it’s been you all along.” / 19, “for the first time, i had something to lose.” synopsis: immaturity isn't needed in a relationship, but that seems to be jake's and your's specialty. warnings: curse words, mentions of drinking, throwing up, su!cide, toxic relationship, making out

"i thought you're going with jake today?" sunghoon asked as you hop into his car.

you rolled your eyes at the thought of riding in the same vehicle as the boy, "no, we called it off again last night."

"again?!" the boy exclaimed, "y/n, that's probably the nth time you guys called it off." he sighed in disbelief, "that's not how relationships work." he commented.

judgingly looking at his way, "yeah? like you know any better?"

"shut up." he started the engine, "this isn't about my love life."

"whatever." you blurt out, "i guess being bad at handling relationship runs in our blood." you jokingly said, as your cousin laugh.

he tilt his head smiling, "damn, of all things that can be passed down, that's what we got."

"well, at least we got good looks. that works as a payoff." he added. you agreed at him with a nod, "anyway." you changed the subject.

"i'm planning on ending it with jake." you stated. he looked at you, "no shit, you sure?" he assured, "to be honest, whatever makes you happy." he added, looking like he wanted to say something but he decided not to.

"don't apologize." you led before he could even say sorry for insisting that you should date his best friend, sim jaeyun.

"i'm not- okay whatever." he almost want to deny the urge but he saw you looking at him with a teasing face, "i just feel a little responsible for all the stress this relationship have caused you." he scratch the back of his head, as you slap his arm.

"shut up, dating him was my decision. you don't have to blame yourself for all the bad decisions i made for myself. i'm an adult now." you told him.

parking his car he nod his head, "okay. just remember i'm here if things are bad, okay?"

"okay." you said, before going out of his car. walking at the corridor of your building, trying to see if jake arrived earlier than you today.

and he certainly did. there he is on his designated seat beside the window, silently watching as the wilted leaves fall down from the tree.

the clock ticks time faster than you expected and your professor came in, not able to call out for jake's name to even talk to him.

sitting down to a chair, you told yourself that you'll talk to him later. and here you are, in front of jake sim at the rooftop of your university's main building.

it might be your lucky day for no one else is here but the two of you. this place is usually cramped with so many people and miraculously today isn't one of those days.

this may be one of the many signs sent from above that this relationship should end as it wasn't right from the beginning.

your blood boils as your cousin sunghoon pushes you into the table of his friend group, "come on! you wouldn't lose anything! he just want to talk to you." he shouts.

"then tell him i don't want to!" you shout back a little annoyed. the last thing you want to do tonight is talk to the famous serial dater, jake sim. "for i know, he just wants the best out of me!"

"come on! jake's not like that!" he defended his friend. to be honest, sunghoon is the last person you should be ranting to. for he is just like his friend, they play with girl's hearts for fun.

you rolled your eyes as you reach the table of ego. the decision of naming that wasn't yours, but the other students. they called this the table of ego because everyone in here got some solid ego. heeseung, jay, sunghoon, jake. all of them.

"y/n! you actually came!" heeseung cheered as soon as he saw you, he scooted a little bit on his right to leave some space between him and jake, "come sit!"

sitting beside him was probably one of the decisions you will forever regret in your life. the memory of that night was a blur. you barely recall anything that happened then.

the only thing that you remember was when jake was reaching for a kiss, you accidentally threw up on him before passing out.

the next day, he told you to be his girlfriend to compensate with the mess you gave his brand new shirt. you said yes just so he could shut up, telling yourself you'll break up with him after a day or two.

two months then passed and you are just breaking everything now. well, it's better late than never. you just didn't expect that he would actually be a good boyfriend.

he's mostly good, not until everything gets complicated even with nothing. you fight over the smallest thing like, not being able to respond to each other's text to someone getting jealous.

it wasn't the best relationship you've been in but it was a good experience. you learned so much and now, it's time to move on.

"what is it that you wanted to say?" jake impatiently snapped you back into reality. you swallowed a good amount of saliva before saying, "let's break up."

it was better to say it forward than beating around the bush. with this, more time and energy will be saved. because even if you give him an explanation he probably won't listen.

he slowly blinked and sighed, looking away he said "okay. if that's what you want." see. he wouldn't even bother asking you why.

well, if you get things easy. they would also go easily, "okay. it was fun meeting you." you head out, leaving him there.

he most probably would not be so upset that he might think of jumping off the building, but you still prayed that he wont.

and he didn't. you can guarantee that as you see that three weeks later jake sim is with a woman walking the same isle as you are. the chances of you seeing him here at this huge mall was small, but never impossible.

you grabbed your friend's hand trying to hide from the sight of the man, "what are you doing-"

"shut up, jake is here." you told here looking at their way, walking into a clothing store. you hurriedly go and sit at a restaurant far from them and ordered food when your friend speak up.

"y/n, what's the point of hiding now when you guys already broke up?" she patheticly looked at you who's trying to hide from a menu list.

putting the menu list down on the table, you crossed your arms, "i am not hiding from him. i simply don't want to involve myself with anything that has to do with him."

"yeah, like seeing him in a shopping mall involves you with him." she said with full sarcasm. "you have no idea how pathetic that sounded."

not listening to anything she said, you started eating your pasta. almost choking when you saw a familliar figure walk in the restaurant.

trying your best to lean down and not get noticed you hear your friend call, "jake!" you kick her feet under the table as you see jake wave back and walks closer.

"what the fuck did you just do?" you whispered at her, she just smiles like an idiot as jake reach your table.

"hello, jia." he greeted your friend, "hi, y'n."

flashing a fake smile, you said "hi." satisfied with how annoyed you are, jia announced "you guys can join us! we got two extra seats here."

"we don't want to intrude-" you cut him off, "yes, there are a lot of vacant tables. they sure can find their own, right?"

serving a glass of wine, a waiter says "oh, we're fully booked, ma'am. so if you want to eat here, you have to wait for another hour or so." he said pouring some on your glass. "if you'll excuse me."

"it would be rude if we don't invite you right? so join!" your friend cheered as the girl jake's with sit next to you.

taking a sip of your wine whenever jake helps the girl cut her steak, you became unaware of how drunk you are. "so, when did you meet jake?" you asked the girl.

to be frank, she was quiet the whole time. just sitting there, not saying a thing but a "thanks." whenever jake helps her with anything.

"you can't answer that? well can you tell me if you are able to use your hands to their purpose? like cutting off a steak or puring your own glass of wine?"

"y/n-" your friend tried to stop you. but you didn't listen. you just continued to blabber nonsense until jake grabbed your wrist to the bathroom.

shaking your hand off his grip you screamed at him asking, "why did you bring me here?!"

"y/n why are you being so rude?" he calmly asked you.

you sarcastically laughed, "i'm being rude? who's more rude when you're out here eating at the same table as your ex-girlfriend and your current girlfriend?"

"current girlfriend- y/n that's my cousin!" he tried to calm himself by breathing slowly, pushing the side of his mouth using his tounge "do you really think i could replace you that fast?"

the sudden question made you feel like someone cut off your tounge. because you mostly have answer for everything but this. his question caught you off guard.

"when you broke up with me, i never asked why. i knew you were tired and i don't want to exhaust you more." you hear his voice shake as he speak. "i was also tired and we both needed a break."

you looked straight at his eyes that are sparkling from moist done by the tears that he have been trying so hard to hold back, "but as time pass by, i felt more and more empty. there is a big mark of you in my heart that ever since you left, no one has ever filled."

"nobody could ever fit in, but you." cupping your face he also wipe your tears away. "i never felt that way before. it's like, for the first time, i had something to lose."

"jake, i-" it was as if you forgot how to compose a word. you never knew he felt the same way you did when you broke up with him.

maybe sunghoon was more of your cousin than he is jake's friend. because if jake only knew how many times you told sunghoon that you miss him, he would've came back faster than this.

he smiled pulling you into a hug, "it's fine if you don't feel the same way anymore. i understand that. but i just want you to know that i am not the douchebag you think i am."

pulling away from the hug, you see his eyes were bloodshot "sorry, the last thing i want to do is make you cry-" you pulled him into a kiss not letting another word out of his mouth.

running out of breath, you seperated his lips from yours. you widely smiled at him, "it’s been you all along."

kissing outside a three star restaurant's restroom isn't as ideal as other comeback stories, but you wouldn't ask for anything else. as long as you have jake in your arms, your heart is content.

[teawithkpop]

[M] - PhysCom - Pt 7

pt 1 - pt 2 - pt 3 - bc 1 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

Pairing: BTS - OT7 x Reader

Rating: Mature [18+]

Length: 5.4k words

Genre: PhysCom AU - smut with dashes of angst, and a shitload of romance and complicated feelings,, uhuhu (porn with plot??)

Warnings: swearing, a lot of emotional turmoil, talk of pregnancy scares (birth control, contraceptives, etc.), implied discrimination towards sex workers (not by any of the boys dw), mentions of sexual acts

slowly hands you a cake that says "I haven't updated this fic in 14 months and I don't know when the next part is coming but here's an update thanks for being patient" in comic sans

-------

The rush to the hospital goes by in a blur of tears and shouting and panic and questions that you can't bring yourself to answer. The only constant is Min Yoongi's hand, firmly locked in your own throughout the ordeal, tethering you to reality.

You now sit in a private room on a sterile medical table and wait to be seen, too numb inside to feel the sting of the cold metal as it cuts into the backs of your thighs. Yoongi stands beside you, still holding your hand, his fingers are laced through yours and squeezing as if it could sap away the fear that eats away your insides, leaving you hollow and empty.

"It'll be alright. Don't worry about a damn thing, okay?" He shifts his weight anxiously, betraying his own underlying worries.

You barely remember him throwing his jacket over you before being rushed out of the house, and you don't feel deserving of the modest coverage. Though the leather is worn and soft against your skin, all you can feel is the harsh metallic zipper, scratching at your chest as though reminding you of your wrongdoings.

"Yoongi…" you start to say, but he cuts you off, his voice a hoarse whisper.

"Don't you fucking dare. Don't apologize."

You feel tears well up in your eyes. Your chest grows tight with the words he's forbidden you to say.

"I've already called Namjoon, it'll all be fine. Don't worry." He works his jaw and rubs your hand with surprising tenderness, glancing to the little window in the door every other second.

He's been assuring you with those same words for the past half hour, but it feels like it's been an eternity. As you glance at the clock on the wall, watching the hands tick by, you imagine a scene like that of a health documentary. Tiny sperm, swimming up your insides… fertilizing your previously dormant eggs.

Fuck. You've fucked up.

You might be pregnant with Min Yoongi's child. Your Opticon birth control implant could send you into toxic shock at any moment.

You don't see how things can get much worse than this.

The door finally opens, and what appears to be a nurse steps inside. She holds a clipboard, and examines it while she lets the door close behind her. "Let's see now, Miss..." Her shoulders slump marginally as her eyes reach your name. "Oh, right. The PhysCom."

You don't have the energy to ignore the change in her tone from friendly to disinterested, and simply nod. However, you feel Yoongi stiffen beside you.

The nurse lets out a brief sigh and dons a professional expression. "So, what appears to be the problem?" She directs the question to Yoongi.

"We think her birth control implant isn't working." Yoongi explains, his eyes darting furtively between you and the nurse. "She, um… she reached orgasm."

You flush at the memory, ashamed of your failure to adhere to even the most basic of rules set before you.

The nurse makes a noncommittal noise and jots something down. "Says here it’s an Opticon. And you didn't turn it off, sir?"

He shakes his head.

The nurse touches the end of her pen to her mouth, a note of sympathy forming in her eyes. Not for you, but for Yoongi. "How long have you had her?"

"Excuse me?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

The nurse tucks the clipboard under her arm, giving him a weary, patient smile. “With PhysComs, we have a list of probable scenarios we’re supposed to check for, to better inform the doctor of the situation, and speed along the treatment process.”

She barely spares you a glance before returning her attention to Yoongi, her voice lowered just a fraction. “It’s not uncommon for newly hired female PhysComs to try and… well, intentionally get pregnant from their clients. Especially if those clients have any amount of wealth or status.”

Yoongi seems lost for words.

She nods as if to agree with his surprise. “It’s some psychosis associated with the job,” she says with a shrug, then straightens her posture once more. “So has she been acting strangely at all? What are her symptoms?”

Your ears burn a bit at being talked about like you’re not in the room, but this isn’t the first time you’ve been in such a position. Oftentimes checkups during training were the same way, the physicians would speak exclusively among themselves and Madame while they examined every inch of you, inside and out.

Yoongi, however, is not used to such an experience.

“Why don’t you ask her yourself?” He says, in a voice much calmer than you would have expected. But one glance at his face tells you all you need to know. His eyes are burning like hot coals. Molten and dangerous.

The nurse doesn’t pick up on his irritation, and busily flips through the pages on her clipboard. “I need reliable information, sir. If you please,” she prompts him.

You can feel Yoongi’s hand clench around yours, and you turn to quiet him.

“It’s okay,” you murmur, hoping to reassure him enough so he’ll talk to her, but he stands his ground, his eyes glued on the nurse.

“Get out,” Yoongi says.

The nurse does a double take. “Excuse me, sir?”

“I said get the fuck out of here.” He points to the door. “Send us someone who will actually help.”

She fumes silently for a moment, but decides not to argue with him, and heads for the door in a huff.

Yoongi scoffs as you two are left alone once more. “What the fuck kind of bedside manner was that supposed to be?” He mutters, staring at the door.

“It’s okay.” You place a hand on his arm.

“No, it’s not.” He’s adamant, and you sigh wearily. How do you explain that this is only what can be expected?

You pick out a few haphazard words from the maelstrom in your brain, too tired to find the best phrasing. “Medical personnel… they don’t really get it.”

“Get what?” He asks, turning to you in outrage. “Being a fucking decent human being?”

You flinch, withdrawing your hand. You’re too tired to try and get your point across. But he notices you wilt and immediately comes closer, lowering his voice and placing both his hands on your arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, the edge of anger fading away to gentleness. Kindness. “What do you mean?”

You sigh, looking off to the side. You don’t deserve to have him look at you like that.

You carefully remove his hands, trying to maintain some semblance of a professional distance, even in the face of disaster. “Most hospitals don’t look favorably at PhysComs. We were given a few lectures about it in training. We use up their resources and time that could instead be given to patients who didn’t willingly put themselves at risk.”

You remember how your fellow trainees had reacted after those discussions. Many of them found the treatment to be unfair, but you yourself felt that, in a way, the medical field’s viewpoint was reasonable. Your choices are what landed you here.

“What the- what are you talking about?” He huffs, still seemingly in the dark. “You didn’t ask for this… this scare. It wasn’t your fault.” He tries to meet your eyes, but your gaze is fixed firmly to the linoleum floor.

A mirthless smile paints your lips. “But I chose this life. And these risks along with it.”

Before he can question you further, the door bursts open and Kim Namjoon enters the room, both his dress shirt and his hair are rumpled, and his eyes are frantic. “Sweetheart?” He rushes to your side and crushes you in a hug. “Are you alright?”

You hear Yoongi let out a breath of relief. “She’s okay, for the moment.”

Something about the way Namjoon holds you feels like a lamp being held against your cold skin. You’re too damp inside to light a flame yourself, but his own body warms you from the outside in the meantime. You want to let yourself enjoy it, but the memory of your unresolved questions leaves you limp in his arms, filled with nothing but misery and confusion.

He pulls back after a moment, checking you over for signs of injury. His eyes are wide with concern. “What happened? Tell me everything.”

A flare of shame rises up in you at the notion of telling Namjoon about your rule-breaking and everything that occured since this morning.

Thankfully, Yoongi seems to sense your hesitance, and he fills in most of the pieces for Namjoon. Namjoon’s expression remains stoic as Yoongi recounts what happened - you being brought home unconcious, seducing Yoongi - up until the mention of your orgasm. Namjoon’s jaw slackens slightly at this, and his eyes scan your face, searching for something.

It’s at this moment that the doctor walks in, a different nurse at his side. He’s a slightly older man, a few wrinkles creasing his brow, and a smile that appears kind until it lands on you. His face is then tinged with that same indifference that most medical professionals give you.

You wish it was your usual physician, but since this was an emergency, you didn’t have time to take the trip to your usual practice. Whatever hospital is nearest, that’s what Yoongi had told the driver.

The man turns to Namjoon, who arguably commands more presence than Yoongi, and the kindness returns. “Sorry for the delay. Busy night. From what I understand, your PhysCom has malfunctioned, is that correct?”

“Her Opticon malfunctioned, yes.” Namjoon corrects him. His diplomatic tendencies are a blessing right now. You just want to know if you’re pregnant or not. You want to know if you’re losing your job. You want to go home.

The doctor runs a few physical tests on you, feeling your breasts, peering down your throat, and examining your vaginal canal, checking for any other symptoms of malfunction from your Opticon. “All’s well so far.” He says, pulling his forefingers out of you, snapping off his gloves, and disposing of them. “May I take a look at the ComGear?”

You feel a flash of panic, waking you out of your stupor. Fuck, was it still in the group chat? You pull out the slim device, heart hammering as you check. Nope. Just settings. Thank god.

You hand it over, and then remember with a looming feeling of dread exactly why it might have been left on the settings page...

“You do so much for us, jagiya.” Taehyung keeps his hands braced on your arms, his thumb rubbing gently against your skin. “You’re always there for us. Always giving… Now it’s time for you to receive.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my fault-” Jimin’s eyes fall to your compromising position, Yoongi’s dick still out, your leaking core exposed, and claps a hand over his mouth. He looks like he might cry. “Oh no...”

The pieces fall into place, and there’s no doubt in your mind. They must have switched it off.

But why? Why, why, why…?

The doctor - you’re too frazzled to read his nametag - pulls out a pair of reading glasses and takes a look at your ComGear, poking around the device with his pointer finger. “Hm. Strange.” He squints. “The Opticon does appear to be switched off.”

Namjoon blinks. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m afraid that’s the case.” The doctor shows him the setting, the toggle very much in the off position. Namjoon takes the device and looks at it in shock.

The doctor coughs. “I know that, um… for some individuals, the temptation and the… risk associated with no protection during intercourse can be sexually arousing. It’s not the first time we’ve gotten a case like this.”

He removes his glasses, folding them back into his pocket. “However, I would remind you and anyone else who uses this one’s services that although Physical Companions may be virtually expendable, it can become quite expensive for your own sake to impregnate them on a whim, using and discarding them, what with the standard fees for breaching their contract and-”

“Thank you, Doctor.” Namjoon interrupts him, and you notice the iron grip he now has on Yoongi’s arm. Likely the only thing restraining him from throwing a punch. “We’ll be more careful.” Namjoon glances at you, confusion making a little crease between his brows. “Is there some sort of morning after pill she can take, or…?”

“I’m afraid the lingering effects of the Opticon implant render any outside hormone blockers ineffective.” The doctor says, his smile turning thin. “It’s a bit of a blessing and a curse. The hormone production and ovulation suppressant in the Opticon normally make the chance of fertilization zero percent while in use. After it’s switched off, chances are still fairly low at 30 percent, for up to 24 hours. But the chances of fertilization after taking a morning after pill are significantly lower than that, at only five percent.”

He shrugs. “We’ll just have to wait and see. Chances are, your PhysCom will be right as rain and ready to pleasure clients again in about a week.”

A week.

First a week of suspension on Namjoon’s terms… Now it’s on medical advisement.

“A week? What should we do until then?” Namjoon voices your very thoughts, Yoongi seething silently beside him.

“Well, we won’t have any results until three to five days from now.” The man clarifies. “But I highly recommend you leave the implant switched off and keep her on traditional contraceptives until we know for sure. I strongly recommend utilizing other PhysComs in the meantime, just to be safe.”

You’re finished.

The doctor hands Namjoon a paper bag, most likely containing birth control pills and condoms. “She may be somewhat volatile for the next few days. You can bring her in for another checkup in a week.”

You’re weak.

“Thank you.”

You’re numb.

-------

It was a silent car ride back to the house, and as Namjoon helps you step out of the vehicle, one hand holding yours for stability while the other rests on your lower back, you can’t help feeling utterly useless. Detached from your surroundings.

What’s the point of any of this now? There’s no way they’ll want to use you until this is resolved. You’re of no use to them as a sex toy until at least a week from now, and by then it’ll be far too late to earn their favor back.

“We need to have a meeting. Call the others into the living room.” Namjoon speaks to Yoongi in an undertone, and you feel a small ache of hope. Maybe things will work out if everyone just talks to each other.

But when you enter the house and Namjoon begins to steer you upstairs, you finally find your voice.

“No.” You resist against him, turning around at the base of the stairs. “No, I want to be part of the meeting.”

The surprise quickly fades from his face, instead turning to concern. “You need to rest."

Something about the look on his face, about being told yet again through his actions that this doesn’t concern you, it causes something inside you to snap, your apathy vanishing in the wake of this new beast beginning to rear its ugly head within you.

Your throat closes up and a scream erupts from your aching chest. "You don't know what I need!"

Namjoon matches your desperation with an infuriatingly patient look of sympathy. He approaches you, his hand outstretched, but you stagger back away from him. He smiles sadly and drops his hand. "Stay here. It's what's best for you."

What's best for you.

The words throb in your mind, like the memory of an old wound. They bounce listlessly off the walls of your grandiose prison long after Namjoon shuts the door, sealing you away again.

You don't know what comes over you as you see visions of launching yourself at the door, pounding and scratching at the wood like a wild animal.

You could just open the door and follow him downstairs. Some part of you does register that.

But you want them to hear you. You want them to hear you rip your throat raw as you exorcise your demons.

You blink and you're standing still.

You haven't moved.

Your spacious room feels stifling. Like the walls are closing in on you, suffocating you.

Silken ropes sway in the dusk, catching your eye from beyond the balcony window. Your escape route from earlier that day.

You don't think twice before stuffing a few meager belongings into the long forgotten backpack kicked beneath your bed.

You need to leave this place.

You can't stay here.

-------

It had started drizzling not long after you left the house, and even now as you sit on the damp curbside, waiting for the next bus to take you far away from this place, it strikes you as funny, in a way, that the weather is crying for you, since you can't muster any tears of your own.

It's cold and misty, a foreboding atmosphere, by all accounts. It makes you question if what you're about to do is the right call.

But you shut down the arguments in your head as quickly as they appear.

Second guessing was what had gotten you into this situation. You need to follow your instincts.

And your instincts are telling you to flee.

It won't be so bad, you try to convince yourself. After the first night on the road, you'll eventually find a new town, a new home, a new place for yourself in this fucked up world. You've done it before, you can do it again.

You're considering suitable aliases for your new persona, when you sense another person approaching, their shoes tramping through the wet grass.

You don't look up at them, hoping they'll pass by and leave you alone. But they come to a stop beside you.

You keep your gaze on the road, droplets rippling the puddled potholes.

Then the stranger goes to sit on the curb too, and you can't help but look at them.

You'd recognize those lips anywhere, even beneath a baggy hooded sweatshirt.

"It's a bit late to run errands, don't you think?" Seokjin says, pulling his sleeves down to keep out the chill as he perches beside you.

He glances at you, then looks ahead at the road, the same way you were. You return your gaze forward, too exhausted to make a run for it. Though you don't get the sense that he would chase after you, even if you tried to escape.

Maybe that's exactly why you decide to stay put, but you don't give the suspicion any more thought.

"What do you want?" You finally ask, your voice croaky from being silent for so long.

"Nothing."

"Liar," you mutter, hugging your knees to your chest. "Everyone wants something."

He chuckles. Rests back on his hands. "I guess you're right about that."

Damn right you are. You didn't study the human condition through your years of training to be fooled so easily by pretty words.

"So?" You prompt him, still staring at the dreary horizon.

He takes a moment to respond. The silence is punctuated by the distant noises of traffic, an occasional car passing by, its headlights shimmering in the mist before disappearing down the road.

“The others are all out looking for you, you know,” he says simply. “Why do you think that is?”

If it were anyone else that had run away - their manager, a friend - you know what the answer would be. Because they care about that person. But how can you believe that about yourself, when you know you can never amount to anyone with that level of importance to them?

Ironic, since you’re the person with which they can be most intimate and vulnerable.

“I’m a liability,” you reply halfheartedly.

His silence serves to confirm your suspicions. A runaway PhysCom? Far too risky for a group at their level. You could become one of those anonymous sources like you saw in the news. A firsthand account of the BTS members’ secret sexual urges. Unacceptable. Snatches of words from the NDA you signed buzz around the edges of your mind like stray flies.

But since you're no longer connected to your network, then your tracker is probably disconnected. If the bus had come just a little earlier, you might already have escaped without a trace.

“You really think that’s the only reason?” Seokjin’s voice pulls you back to the moment.

His abysmal attempt to divert from the problem gets a hollow laugh out of you.

“Any other reason has ulterior motives. It’s just business.” You check the time on your ComGear. The bus should be here any minute. “I’m leaving, and I won’t let you stop me.”

“I don’t intend to,” he agrees, to your surprise. “God knows you’ve been put through enough.” He then leans forward, resting his forearms across his legs. “But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Your ears perk up at this.

Seokjin seems to take your silence as permission to continue. “The reason we decided to suspend you. It wasn’t… entirely selfless.”

You purse your lips in irritation and fix your gaze upon the horizon, settling your chin beneath your crossed arms. “Right. Ulterior motives, like I said.”

He clicks his tongue. “Touche.”

You wait for him to continue, but he doesn't.

Your curiosity gets the better of you.

“So, what… were you planning to replace me?” You ask, trying to sound contemptuous. “I heard you all having your little group meeting in the kitchen. There are plenty of shiny new whores at your disposal, take your pick.”

He still makes no noise.

You wait, preparing to accept a bitter confirmation of all your fears.

But then he finds his voice. “We could never replace you, dear.”

You stop. Look over at him. His eyes are half lidded, his smile bittersweet as he stares off into the distance. After a few moments, he fishes around in his pocket and pulls something out, then hands it to you.

His smartphone.

“Here,” he murmurs, sympathy in the quirk of his lips. “In case you need to call anyone. Those devices they give you don’t have a cell plan, I assume.”

He seems to sense your wariness, and waves the phone a bit in a gesture of insistence. “I can buy a dozen new ones. It’s no trouble.”

You very hesitantly take it. “Thanks.”

Of course, he has no way to know that your ComGear is now jailbroken, for all intents and purposes. But… is this a trap? What if there’s a tracker in the phone? But why would he need to put a tracker in it if he doesn’t know your ComGear is off the grid?

The rumble of an approaching motor pulls you out of your cyclical thoughts, and you get on your feet, slowly coming out of your dissociative sulk.

But you still feel numb. Nothing matters anymore.

Nothing at all.

Jin gets up along with you, slipping his hands into his hoodie pocket. “Stay safe, alright?”

You give a brief nod of acknowledgment, only half in his direction as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder more securely. The hydraulics of the bus screech as the vehicle comes to a stop and lowers slightly, allowing you to step onboard.

You glance back, fully expecting Jin to stop you. But he doesn’t. He blinks raindrops out of his eyes while you board, and gives you a small smile once the doors close behind you. He lifts a hand in farewell, then turns and starts to walk away down the street.

He’s really letting you go.

You pay your fare and find a seat towards the back of the nearly empty bus. Rain pelts at the windows, picking up in earnest, and it feels like yet another layer, another barrier, separating yourself and creating an ever-growing chasm from the life you knew up until yesterday.

You pull out Jin’s phone, staring at the dark screen and wiping away stray raindrops from the surface with your sleeve. Why had he come to find you, if not to stop you?

“But for what it’s worth, you deserve to know the truth.”

Maybe he felt guilty. Or remorseful for the hell you’ve been put through recently. You would normally have felt immense satisfaction at such a thought.

But you can’t feel much of anything right now.

You don’t think you’ll be able to feel properly again. At least not for a long, long time…

Hm? The screen lit up. You must have pressed a button by accident. You swipe at it again, and to your surprise it unlocks. Who doesn’t put a passcode on their phone?

Is it possible… he disabled it before he gave it to you? Maybe. Whatever. You’re so tired of thinking, playing investigator and second guessing people’s motivations.

You scroll over to the phone icon, and tap on it, briefly considering calling your parents. But the wetness on your fingers messes with the touchscreen and you open the messages app instead.

You’re about to wipe the screen and try again, but… the most recent messages are… all about you. You tap on the group chat among the seven of them, currently bustling with activity.

[ Kim Namjoon ]: has anyone found her [ Park Jimin ]: hyung I’m so sorry [ Park Jimin ]: it’s all my fault [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not at the studio [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’ll talk about it later Jimin [ Kim Namjoon ]: everyone keep looking [Jeon Jungkook]: manager said they can call her network to track her down [Kim Taehyung ]: should we do that? [ Jung Hoseok ]: no! she could get in trouble :( [ Min Yoongi ]: she’s not a stray pet [ Kim Namjoon ]: exactly [ Kim Namjoon ]: we need to keep this quiet for her sake [Kim Taehyung ]: she hasn’t replied to my texts or calls [ Min Yoongi ]: me neither [Jeon Jungkook]: hyung... will she be okay? [ Kim Namjoon ]: everything will be fine don’t worry [ Kim Namjoon ]: we’re going to fix this somehow [ Min Yoongi ]: whatever it takes [ Jung Hoseok ]: where could she have gone... [ Park Jimin ]: what if she doesn’t come back?

You scroll further up, past days and weeks and months of texts between them… not even a day between mentions of you. Wondering if you’re alright. Hoping you’ve eaten enough. Wanting to do more with you.

The thread of texts Jimin sent to Seokjin just yesterday.

Hyung I wish things were different I want to hold her I want to tell her she’s enough I wish I could kiss her… I think I love her Do you ever feel that way?

And Seokjin’s reply.

I do I know just what you mean Why do you think I turned those secondaries away last night, hm? No one can compare She really is special…

He didn’t… fuck the secondaries? After you broke at dinner, he… didn’t...?

You switch to his thread with Namjoon from a few days ago.

I know you’re our leader but I don’t think this is the way to go You need to be more cautious

Namjoon’s reply.

What we need is action, hyung If we work together on this, we could get rid of these unnecessary rules We could all have what we want Including her It’s what’s best for everyone

Seokjin took several minutes to reply.

You’re going to lose her.

Jin knew. He tried to talk Namjoon out of writing that stupid essay, or maybe it was about your suspension.

Either way, he defended you.

You open his thread with Hoseok. Dimly, you recognize that you shouldn’t be snooping, but you’re too absorbed to stop.

Hyung, I think she really wants this All of us ♡ I don’t know how, but we need to show her that it’s okay That we want it just as much

How do you know that’s what she wants?

I can’t say ♡ But I know now She wouldn’t reject us Our feelings She feels something too

The date and time lines up with this morning. The morning after he made love to you.

He didn’t tell them. He kept your secret.

“Our feelings”? What does he mean? Him, Jimin, Taehyung… Seokjin? Do they all…?

Your head spins, the hollowness of your heart filling with a rush of jumbled emotions, like a tide crashing in. All your numbness is washed out with light, just a pinprick at first, that grows rapidly into a ray of warmth as you consider what all this could mean. The chasm starts to narrow, and you get the urge to jump ship, to turn back and figure this shit out. To know once and for all what they want from you. What you mean to them.

But how can you trust this isn’t a trap? How can you be sure?

The answer is as simple as they come.

You can’t.

You can’t be absolutely certain that their intentions are pure… that this is the right thing to do… that you won’t be hurt again.

But maybe... trust isn’t about being infallible. Being right. Being sure.

Maybe it’s built on what ifs. On trying again, even with no guarantees.

Guarantees are only as good as their word, and talk is cheap. Lies are easy. Your Opticon had a 100% guarantee, and look where that got you.

But you remember the way Hoseok held you that night, and made love to you like you’ve never felt in your life... When Jimin kissed his way down your body, with only the best of intentions. Namjoon’s strong arms embracing you when you felt powerless. Yoongi’s hand never leaving yours, even while you waited in the hospital. Jungkook carrying you home after you fainted, breaking your door to make sure you were safe in bed. The look in Taehyung’s eyes when he finally kissed you, breaking the ice you’d been growing around your heart.

How Seokjin let you go.

Maybe...

You get up with a start, rush to the front of the bus, and hastily ask the driver to let you off, much to the old man’s disgruntlement, but the moment the doors whoosh open, you take off at a run.

You want to go home.

You want to try again.

No matter how much you try to bury it, to forget the way they make you feel, you care about them. All of them. On a much deeper level than that of a PhysCom and client. And it scares you.

But you’re done running from fear. From uncertainty.

Now you’re running towards it willingly, as you give chase down the torrential streets, searching for that familiar hooded figure and hoping you’re not too late. You’re embracing the doubt, the fear, the uncertainty, the paranoia... letting their shadowy claws sink into you until they can’t hurt you anymore. Until they fade away, cowering under the glow of your determination.

You’re setting some new rules for yourself, no longer letting fear control your thoughts and actions, barring you from any chance of happiness.

You see Seokjin in the distance, trudging home through the pouring rain. You run faster.

You’re fucking terrified. But you’ve never felt so free in your life.

“Jin!” You shout to get his attention, still a block away. He turns around, and shakes his head, seemingly confused, but a smile starts to appear. You smile too.

Finally, you catch up to him, and without warning, you throw your arms around his shoulders. Damn, he’s always taller than you remember.

He laughs, shocked by your change of heart. “What are you doing?”

“I want to hear you say it.” You reply, looking up at him as rain dashes down your face. You don’t know when you started crying, but you’re grateful to the weather for masking your tears.

“Say what?” He asks, his hands resting on your waist to support you. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rain sliding down his perfect face.

“How you feel about me.” You reply, studying his eyes. “Be honest.”

He seems to sense the gravity in your words. He holds you closer. His eyes soften.

“I think I’ve fallen in love with you.”

For the first time since all of this started, you sense no deception in his words, no double meaning, no hidden agenda.

Because you aren’t searching for reasons to doubt this time.

You’re searching for reasons to trust, and you find them.

You want to kiss him. So you do.