#i feel dizzy and hurt but also that might just be the adrenaline since i panicked once i realized

[manobjectifyer]

baby's first wasp/bee sting

[ovaryacted]

what about ID Leon (feel like he’d have been a total fuckboy atp as a sort of phase) but what ab he always comes back to you and after a heated argument he fucks you as he’s pressing your face into the mattress while you're crying and clutching the sheets as you’re begging him to let you finish again 🤭

MDNI/18+. NSFW. | cw: Leon is ooc. Possible toxic relationship.

Ooooooo, you’re cooking here anon. Even though I personally don’t headcanon or view Leon as a fuckboy (because let’s face it, that man is not getting laid for the life of him I mean…), let’s go ahead and say he has an ego and it is reflected in his shitty communication skills (cause of anxiety and trauma womp womp).

-

It was a heated moment where Leon accidentally raised his voice at you, mentioning something about not listening to orders on a mission. It was a close call and you had ventured off without Leon’s support, and he kept calm until you were both back home. It first started as a regular conversation until it deviated from Leon not being able to keep you within arm’s reach, to you being too individualistic. You knew why he did this, he was often too worried for his good and you’d always remind him that you could handle yourself even if he didn’t believe you.

“You have to listen to me when we’re out there. Do you know what could’ve happened or do you just not give a shit?”, Leon huffed out a breath, his arms crossing over his chest and shooting daggers at you.

“Well, I’m not you Leon, not all of us think the way you do. The sooner you accept it the better!”, you grew more defiant, more angry for God knows what. The bitterness you felt from Leon always being gone to never listening to you on missions started to fester out of control.

The argument only got more intense, turning into a yelling match between the both of you. Hurtful words were said, things neither of you meant, and with a cruel “Go fuck yourself Leon”, you watched him walk out the door and slam it behind him.

You pissed him off, he pissed you off, but there was nobody else who understood your relationship the way you both did. This wasn’t the first time you two argued either, often happening after you were both stressed out and didn’t find a proper release for it. You couldn’t blame Leon entirely, always being forced to do the government’s bidding and having limited freedom would put anybody on the verge of a breakdown. Being each other’s vices also didn’t help, so it wasn’t surprising when you found Leon knocking on your front door with furrowed eyebrows close to a day later.

He smelled like whiskey, not too much to the point where it was dizzying, but enough to let you know he was drinking. Leon wasn’t there to talk, you knew that much, stuck in a never-ending cycle of adrenaline and unresolved issues.

That was how you found yourself in this position now, face down ass up on the mattress. The things that happened after you welcomed Leon back into the apartment and closed the door behind him were a blur. You remembered him kissing you hard on the mouth, walking you backward towards the bedroom and yanking on your clothes. He wasn’t gentle, not entirely, but when he pulled you forward by the leg as his mouth gravitated towards your cunt, you couldn’t stop him. You didn’t want to.

“Leon…please…”, you could barely speak, barely think, your brain was melting and spilling out of your ears along with the rest of you. You couldn’t bring yourself to care about the consequences and how this might seem. Always fighting with this man just to end up back in bed with him was something you should be embarrassed about. But with the way he was pummeling into you, it was easier to forgive him.

“Just shut up”, he muttered under his breath, fucking into you harshly from behind and focusing on the way your walls pulsed around his cock. He was relentless, moving in an aggressive push-and-pull that hadn’t stopped since he crossed the threshold of your front door. The back of his hand grabbed onto your head, pushing your face against the mattress and making you release a muffled whimper.

You hid your face in the bed, tears slipping down your cheeks and your fingers digging into the sheets. Maybe this was what you deserved, to be tested constantly so Leon could come back home, back to you.

“Quit your fucking whining, I’ll let you cum”, Leon didn’t stop, knowing you were on the verge of cumming all over him for the umpteenth time. No matter how mad he was at you at the moment or how badly you pissed him off, he would let you cum however many times you could.

Sometimes you hated him for it, how he could play your body like a violin and pull every string taut until it snapped. He drained you, he stressed you out, but you still gave yourself willingly every time because that’s what made him stay.

This was how he liked you. Pliant and taking what he had to give. That was all you could do, because no matter what, Leon always came back to you.

[daffodildelight]

Enemies (Part Two) | Shuntarō Chishiya x Reader

Title: Enemies (Part Two)

Pairing: Shuntarō Chishiya x fem!reader

Summary: Things start to get a little bit heated between the two of you

Themes/Warnings: fluff, tiny bit of smut, season 2 spoilers, injuries, mention of blood, voyeurism kind of?

Word count: 2600sh

A/N: Since the first part was so well received I decided to pull a all nighter for you guys. Merry Christmas, here’s your part two. Highly unedited but I will make my way round to it.

Even with Chishiya protecting me from this blast it wasn’t enough. A few tiny bits of shrapnel from the grenade lodged itself into my arm. I couldn’t feel it at the moment because of my adrenalin but when it wears out it will hurt like I bitch. I’m just hoping it hasn’t nicked an artery. But that can be focused on later for now I have Chishiya pinning me to the ground protecting me from the King of Spades.

The King of Spades quickly sprints off towards Ann and the gang, completely forgetting about us. My guess would be when I kicked the grenade towards him and it exploded he didn’t see Chishiya and I dive to hide behind a different car. What luck we have. Chishiya is chest-to-chest with me. Faces super close to each other. We stay like that for a few seconds none of us saying anything. The tension is thick, but it’s soon over when Chishiya turns his attention to my arm. “Come on we have to go, you’ve been injured and we need to fix it. Let’s find a place to set up.”

Chishiya pulls me from the ground and walks us pretty far away from the King of Spade's blimp. This walk took us over an hour and I can start to feel my arm hurting. I look at my tight white long-sleeved t-shirt covered in blood, and Chishiya notices. “I think we should rest up there” Chishiya points to a sky tower. “Hight will give us an advantage over anyone” I start to sway ‘’Yeah, I think you might be right but I also want to sit down, I'm starting to feel very dizzy.’’

Chishiya and I make our way up a few flights of stairs until we agreed upon a level to stay on. We decided to stay on the 10th level, not too high if we get ambushed but also high enough to see what was happening on the street. Chishiya looks at me seriously before saying “I’m going to go scavenge, try and find us some food and medical supplies for you. I want you to stay here and set up our new space’’. I gave Chishiya an appreciative look ‘’That sounds like a great idea, and when you get back we can discuss our game plan.’’

Chishiya takes his leave and I start to look around the surrounding area to set up our space. This building was in the middle of being constructed so the entire floor was an open space, really was not much I can do with my limited resources and bloody arm. I spotted a small 2 seater couch in the corner of the floor and started moving it towards the centre of the room, making sure to face towards the door in case anyone comes in. It hurt like a bitch to move the couch but it needed to be done for the sake of comfort and security. I didn’t have any valuables on me so there wasn’t anything to unpack so I just sat on the couch waiting for Chishiya to come back to me.

You had been sitting on the small couch for what seemed like days, but in reality, it was just an hour. You felt nervous that Chishiya was out there all alone and if he ended up dead it would be your fault since he was getting medical supplies for you. Anxiously sitting on the couch waiting for Chishiya to come back, that was until you heard a noise coming up the stairs and heading towards the door. You hid behind the couch, in a low position so that when this person comes you could give them a surprise attack. But it wasn’t necessary because the person who walked in through the door was Chishiya with bags full of food and medical supplies. ‘’You can’t believe how much medical stuff there is left behind.’’ Chishiya gives a smirk.

Chishiya makes his way towards the couch and dumps the bags of food and medical supplies right in front of me. ‘’Alright let me get my medical kits ready, for now, I want you to take off your shirt and sit facing towards the door.’’ Chishiya explains. ‘’I’m sorry you want me to take off my shirt? Why can’t I just roll up my sleeve?’’ I try to debate, feeling nervous that this is how Chishiya will see me shirtless and not the way you imagined it to be. “You’re shirt is tight. If I roll up the sleeve it will cause pressure on the wounds which will make it impossible for me to close up. Now hurry up and get rid of it.” Chishiya sighs frustratingly before going to prep his kit.

Taking off my shirt was a lot harder than I thought it would be, making sure I don’t move my shoulder or let the fabric graze my wounds. There were a few times this happened and it caused me to let out a hiss which bought Chishiya's attention. He makes his way over, and stands in front of me assisting me to pull off my shirt. Once that was done I was only left in my lacy purple bra which was stained with blood. I looked up at Chishiya and he was looking down at me with his piercing brown eyes. You had never been this physically close to Chishiya apart from nearly being killed by a man with lots of rifles. Now I had the chance to actually observe his handsome features. Blonde hair drops down to his chin which suits his perfectly crafted facial structure, you now know why you kinda had a thing for him back at The Beach. He was so handsome.

We had been staring at each other for about upwards of 2 minutes and the tension was thick. Chishiya was the first to pull away and he goes to grab the medical kit and crouches next to me. He puts his gloves on and softly examines my wounds with his fingers. “You are very lucky the shrapnel didn’t hit your artery. You would’ve been in a bad place.’’ Chishiya continues to look over you before cleaning the wound, grabbing tweezers and pulling small chucks of metal out. It was agonising, I was trying to hold in my whimpers of pain to make myself look stronger in front of him but some did escape. “You know I thought I would have you whimpering in other ways” Chishiya whispers into your ear before pulling more shrapnel out.

“Ha very funny, how do you even how to do this? This hurts much less than I was expecting’’ I laugh but also feel physically hot from the previous comment. Chishiya let’s out a sigh before speaking “before all this, I used to be a doctor”. You shugged your shoulders ‘’I had a feeling that your career would be something like that with the way you react to things” Chishiya looks baffled “What do you mean?’’. You looked at him with a smirk and continued  “Medical professionals have to be calm in stressful situations. When we play these death games you always remain calm. Hell, today when everyone was running away from the King of Spades you were walking’’. Chishiya looks surprised “you're smarter than you look”. He finishes pulling out shrapnel and holds medical dressing to the wound to stop it from bleeding any future. He then gives you a look to hold the dressing as he then pulls out a thread and needle.

“While I was sitting here and waiting for you I was thinking about our game plan” I explain. Chishiya nods with approval and waits for me to continue while penetrating my skin with the needle. I let out a whimper again “I don’t think we can take on the King of Spades by ourselves and if we wait any longer our visas will expire which means we have to compete in a game.” I shift in my seat after Chishiya ties off the first stitch, still waiting for me to continue. “I don’t think we should do a spades game because I’m not physically up for it. Diamonds are out of the question because it’s my weakest point, these are face games which are harder than normal. Which leaves us with hearts or clubs. But what do you want us to do?”.

Chishiya finishes up with another stitch before saying “I agree with you, we aren’t enough for the King of Spades and our visas will run out if we even try. I think we should do the Jack of Hearts since it’s the closest to us.” You nod approvingly, “we will sleep tonight and get ready for tomorrow”. Chishiya goes to walk away and comes back with a brand new top for me, I had completely forgotten I was half naked in front of him this entire time. Pulling this new shirt over my head I remembered that there was only one couch and it isn’t big enough to fit 2 people to sleep on.

“Listen I’ll take the floor and you take the couch tonight as a thank you for patching me up” I smile. Chishiya doesn’t argue and goes to pull off his top and robe. I pull my hands over my eyes for respect but you really did want to have a look at his chest again. “Chishiya! What are you doing!” in a loud shout. “What? I sleep shirtless stop being childish” he replies with a teasing tone and a sexy smirk before collapsing onto the couch and chucking me a pillow. “Goodnight princess I’ll see you in the morning and don’t sleep on the sore side of your arm.” He says sarcastically. “Yeah, no shit sherlock” I laughed.

-

Waking up in the early hours of the morning is never fun but it’s good when you wake up earlier than Chishiya and can look at his beauty without feeling panicky that he could catch you, yeah this is a bit creepy but my feelings for him gotten deeper since the 10 of hearts game. Chishiya is laying chest down on the couch facing you, his hair brushed over his face and it moves every time he takes a breath. With the limited view you had, you gazed at his shirtless torso, this guy is ripped! Just makes you feel all hot and bothered but you can’t help but imagine Chishiya in a more sexual way. Imagine waking up to Chishiya on top of you leaving neck kisses and whispering words of praise into your ear. His strong hands grazing your sides and hips grinding into yours. Your hands in his hair tugging at him to continue his assault on your body while letting out whimpers and moans. “You like what you see?” speaks Chishiya from the couch as his eyes make direct contact with you. Immediately snapping out of your daydream you recover with a fake laugh “as if”.

Chishiya and you get ready for the game, not before trying to get one last glimpse of Chishiya’s abs. Packing up your stuff you head towards the exit. “How's your arm feeling?” Chishiya asks “Can I take a look at it after this game just to make sure it’s okay and that there's no infection?”. You let out a light laugh “You care about me Chishiya? Of course i’ll let you have a look but you’ll have to pay me good money to get a look at my sexy arm” Chishiya groans and you end the conversation with a wink.

Arriving at the game venue early is always good, it gives you a chance to look at the venue and figure out any crucial information. Chishiya and I arrive at what looks like a prison, in the entranceway is a table with multiple collars. Chishiya puts his one on first then I do mine and it seems like we are some of the firsts here. “Come with me, let's have a look around the game venue” Chishiya states and without hesitation, you follow. Nothing seems out of the ordinary apart from having a huge pantry. You and Chishiya make your way to the cells where you can hear whimpers and moans. Chishiya and you turn and look right at each other, both thinking of ways to use this information in the game. We both head towards the cell to see who is having sex. A man and woman both in business suits are screwing each other in the cell, him having her from behind.

As Chishiya and I walk away from the cell all I can think is what if Chishiya and I were doing that? It slowly consumes my thoughts but I soon snap out of it before Chishiya notices me daydreaming again. We head to the main lobby and wait 10 short minutes, by then the lobby is filled with people who are risking their lives for visas. The last man walks in making the amount of people in the room stand at 20. He has very broad shoulders and a look on his face that could make you freeze. Chishiya sighs next to you while he leans against the wall.

The P.A. then chimes “Difficulty level, Jack of Hearts. Game, Solitary Confinement. Rules, Guess the card suit that appears on the back of your collar. However, you may not look at the symbol yourself. The time limit is one hour per round. In the final five minutes, enter your cell and disclose your symbol. If you do not answer with the correct symbol the game is over. The collar will explode and you will die. Additionally, when the time limit reaches zero the symbol on the collar will reset and change for each round.” Discussion can be heard throughout the lobby area, you overhear people saying that we can just give each other the answers but you and Chishiya know that it's not gonna be that easy. The P.A. continues “The solitary confinement game is about how much you can trust your fellow players. Be aware that your opponent, The Jack of Hearts, has already been placed among you.” I turn to look at Chishiya and laugh “who could’ve guessed”. The P.A continues a third time

“How to win. Rounds repeat every hour. You win the game when the Jack of Hearts dies.” you look around the room and see players try to take off their collars to no avail. “Prohibited actions. Looking at your symbol with a reflective surface is cheating. Players must not use weapons or violence to kill fellow players.” Chishiya goes to whisper into my ear with his hot breath “This means that the only way this game will ever end is if the Jack gives the wrong answer. So basically no one here is getting out alive unless they lie to the Jack.” You have to admit Chishiya’s intelligence is a real turn-on for you and you can’t help but notice how close you 2 are right now. His back is right up against yours while he’s whispering into your ear. You have to bite into your lip to compose yourself.

“There is no limit to the number of rounds. Enough food has been provided. While participating in this game no days will be removed from your visas”. Chishiya shifts his body so he’s now facing you super closely and whispers quietly “So we need to start lying, find the Jack of Hearts and kill them off, or we’ll live out our days in this prison. Soliartary for life.” he leans in even closer to you. nose to nose. “I wouldn’t mind spending the rest of my days here with you” he finishes while staring into my eyes with his perfect face. We were rudely interrupted by the P.A system again.

“The game will now commence”

[introloves]

anon: okay so i just went through (the entirety) of your bokuto tag and lemme just say, boxer! bokuto??? yeah top tier. you just KNOW that every time he wins he wraps that medal round your neck and makes you watch in the mirror as he uses it to choke you and keep your head up and eyes on his while he absolutely rails you. shit after fights you’d look just as bruised as him.

— boxer! bokuto + marking + choking + pain + possessive! bokuto + overstimulation + size kink + bokuto calls reader ‘puppy’ + cream pie + f! reader

— word count; 2k

— boxerverse! bokuto: one shot no. 2

he’s trembling, high strung with the adrenaline that still hasn’t left him. it’s funny seeing him whine for your attention, someone so big and muscular like him looking absolutely destroyed when you give him a stern look against his kisses.

it’s so very apparent in the way he handles you that hes looking at you to help him come down.

“bo, calm down.” you pant, trying to push his hands away, its a futile attempt to keep his wandering fingers away from your pants. its like he’s magnetized to the waistband of them, digits twitch when you slap them down.

he’s big, strong, a finely tuned machine built for taking hits and giving them back like a bullet but your rejection makes him pout.

there’s a twist of pain in your chest when he gets like this, but he needs to rest.

despite everything, he acts like its just been another day, but it hasn’t even been two hours since his last fight. theres a bruise painting his lip, another one against his brow, red splotches litter his sides and stomach but he shakes your prying hands off thick wrists, fingers hooking into your waistband and pulling them down to your thighs. he looks up at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. waiting for the okay he knows is inevitably going to come.

“fine, but if i see you wince, we’re stopping.” you sigh, smiling at the absolute beam of teeth and curled lips he gives you.

he’s so fast, peeling off every bit of clothing you had worn tonight. he had to have you, needed it like he needed that win.

a win that he already has, now he just needs you.

you cant deny that his excitement isn’t making you wet, he’s like a god above you, vying for your attention and body. he was truly glorious tonight, muscles taut and coiled as he bounced along the white canvas. biceps curled and ready for his opening to land one of his signature right hooks. he takes every hit against his body like it’s nothing, completely unfazed by his opponent. at one point during the match he taunted them, dropping his arms and baring his teeth, just waiting for the fight to truly get good. it makes you squirm, he could be so intimidating, watching like a predator for any opening, any hole in the opponents defense.

your body flushes in memory of watching him land that final hit, he sees the way your thighs squish together. groaning at the thought that your body was responding to his advances, surely knowing by memory how good he fucks you.

your bo always looks so strong and powerful. no matter where he is, whether he’s fighting or when he’s trapping you against those strong arms.

it makes you sigh at the pure determination he’s dripping in, rolling your eyes as he gives you a once over, wiggling his eyebrows at you, torso stretching to reach something from the bedside table, canines flashing as he shows you his newest trophy. its a devious look, proud eyes glinting down at you.

you feel that you can read his mind, about to tell him that, no you won’t fuck him while he’s wearing it, but he lowers it over your head, giving you a bigger smile as the heavy and cold metal lands right between your tits.

“that looks real good on you.” he finally says, abs contracting with the pangs of arousal crawling up his neck. he flinches just a bit at the soreness there, he’s a little more beat up than usual, but hides it well. if there’s anything he needs other than rest, its to fuck you dizzy.

he thinks he might be a total meat head with just how much he likes the image of you wearing something he worked so hard to win, a primal heat licking at the arousal also flaring inside him. you’re really truly his, bokuto can see it in your eyes, regarding him like hes strung the moon up in the sky.

you belong to him, just as he does you. just like that shiny medal you’re wearing.

the bed creaks under his weight when he leans down to kiss you, hand grabbing your face, keeping you right where he wants you. tongue immediately slipping past your lips, pulling a cute whine. he’s sloppy with it, teeth bumping against your own, spit trailing down the corner of both your mouths. when he pulls away, your eyes cross to watch the string of spit connecting the both of you.

he swipes his tongue out and catches it, mumbling something when he sees you reach for him.

“sit back.” you realize he says a little late, snapped out of the haze by the gentle tap of his index finger against your cheek.

koutarou makes a show to peel the rash guard he was wearing under his shorts off. his creamy, muscled thighs finally grace your vision. it makes your body temperature rise several degrees at once, the hot flash only encouraged when you see his dick lying pretty against his thigh. you reach for him, but the advance is stopped by his hands, he doesnt say anything but grips your wrists a little tighter.

your gaze moves from his purpled knuckles up to his eyes, the amber there looks just a tad bit cooler and you immediately know it’s going to be a bad day for you tomorrow.

“want you on your tummy.” bokuto states, and you listen.

waiting for his hands to grip your hips, but he lags just a little. turning your head to look at him you ask if everything’s okay,

“you remember our safe word?” he inquires, and you nod, blanching just a little. his words send a prickle of fear down your spine, you suddenly feel very vulnerable and exposed.

“well, what is it?”

bokutos hand comes down to grip your shoulder, huffing against your ear. theres a small pull there, bringing your shoulders back to meet him halfway.

“j-juice.”

he’s right there, waiting for the last syllable to leave your lips, poking the head of his dick against your cunt. it leaves you breathless, smooth, velvet skin leaving a wet trail of precum right on your clit.

it makes you exhale out a high pitched keen, unable to stop it from tumbling out a little louder than expected.

the whine has him purring, humming out a, “good girl.”

there’s nothing in the world that you can compare the way he splits you open. the first stroke is always careful, makes sure youre nice and relaxed, wet enough to take him. you always are of course, how could you not with the way he holds you, pulling you back by your shoulders, making your back bend as much as it can, the twist of your body like that makes for a real tight squeeze, feels like the already limited room inside your cunt is cut back to an absolute zero.

it should hurt, but you’ve taken him enough that hes practically carved the shape of him into your pussy.

he has you nice and compliant under his hands, head thrown back to leave the most fucked out sounds of pure ecstasy rattle through your lungs and into the room.

he can feel the chemistry, something akin to electricity, between the two of you. if he could form into words what its like when you lean agasint him, completely trusting him to take care of you, to make you feel good, he’d fill a book up- and pocket it to reread over and over.

bokuto releases you, letting your shoulders fall forward gently before reaching around and pulling the, now, warm metal from between your body and the bed.

it catches you by surprise when he gives it a tug, the silk cutting into your prominent veins, making you go weak and dizzy.

if you couldn’t think or talk before he was doing this, you definitely weren’t going to be able to while he was.

your hands find the pillows above you for leverage, biting down onto your lip when he begins a brutal pace against your hips. hes pinned you down onto the bed with his mass, not even letting you arch your hips to give him better access to your cunt.

“ghh, kou- kou feels good.” you cry, taking an index finger into your mouth to bite, theres not a spot on your body where you dont feel him, so big above you, you can feel the press of his dick in your throat.

“i know it does puppy.” he grits out, still biting back the pain that each brutal contact against your body brings him. hes got the stamina, the sweat hes broken out thus far isnt too bad, but the position and the way hes taking you- hand still holding onto that precious medal- is taking a toll on him.

he knows he needs to make you cum fast.

and knowing his sweet baby, the way to do that is to rough you up just a bit. it’s real endearing.

the silk burns just a little when he shifts behind you, making sure to keep a good grip on it- you dont connect the dots of what hes preparing to do, not until he pulls back.

you’re mid scream before he cuts you off, tears forming in your eyes against the rasp and wheeze of your breathing. the tension around your throat isnt forceful enough to cut your oxygen off completely, it just leaves you wheezing and gives you a nice haze to your vision.

you’ve tensed up completely, knees locking, hands gripping the pillow above you for dear life.

the reaction from you makes him shake, you can feel the stutter of his hips, hearing the high whine leave his throat, he powers through it. he clashes his teeth together and snarls, blinking back stars when he speeds up.

“c’mon, cum. cum for me, puppy.” bokuto grunts.

its not like you to not listen, as soon as his words leave his mouth, you’re closing your eyes.

you’ve gone limp for a second, and bokuto truly fears that hes overdone it, he drops the grip he has on his trophy, about to stop everything, but then your tremors start.

your legs, still pinned down between his own, shake. he sees your cute little hands slap the pillow and swallows deeply. you’re silent- but he can hear the echoes of moans that want to leave your throat thanks to your open mouth and head that’s thrown back. it takes you two seconds before you seem to flicker back to life,

“ghhhh, hhhh! koutarou, kou!” his name is the first coherent thing that leaves your mouth, and he swears there’s nothing better. he cant compare you to winning a match, knocking out his opponent in a KO- because seeing you like this, hearing you scream his name like that would win every time.

he’d like to comment on how eagerly you’re milking his cock, but the pulsing of your cunt around his fat, big dick does him in.

there’s no time to pull out, wasn’t planning on it anyways, but the squeezing of you againts him, leaking your cum down to the base of him, wetting his pubes with you, also leaves no room for it.

it’s obscene, the squelching sounds of his pistoning, cumming cock, creaming your insides white, all the while pushing it out of your cunt with every thrust.

it splatters against your ass and his thighs, white globs of it stick against the two of you while he rides out the throbbing. there’s nothing more satisfying than filling you up, a deep tingle nipping at the base of his skull when he thinks about his cum kept warm in your cunt.

this is what finally tires him out. the tremor and twitching of his strong arms visible when he reaches down and pulls his limp dick from you, he saves you the pain of his weight crushing against your already fragile body by plopping down beside you, you jump up on the bed with the force of his weight collapsing beside you.

the sticky heat is no match for his eagerness to hold you after it all. you slot against his front easily, almost completely dwarfed by his frame.

“‘re you proud ‘fme.” he slurs against your neck, trapping his thigh between your legs. he shivers when he feels the mess of his own cum smear absolutely everywhere.

your hand comes down to rest over his arms, protectively secured around your torso.

“always. i love you so much.” you whisper back, voice just a tiny bit raspy and sore.

“mm, loveyoumore.”

he’s out before you can count to ten, hearing you say that puts a smile on his face while his breathing evens out behind you.

you take the lightest of touches to the bruises on his knuckles, your koutarou truly was something else. while he sought out your validation, you basked in the glory and security of someone as grand as him holding you tight.

[nopelleen]

Perish, Pretty Please (5/5)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Rick Flag was known to be a pretty good leader, it was the reason why he had been chosen to lead a squad of infamously reckless and idiotic criminals, however it was a lot harder to maintain his authority when one member of the team despised his guts for seemingly no reason.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Rick Flag x Reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 5.7k

ɴᴏᴛᴇ: it took me so long, but it’s finally there -- the last part! I started this fanfiction knowing I had a tendency not to finish them and I’m honestly so proud right now, I hope you’ll enjoy this last part as much as I enjoyed writing all of this! (also please let’s all have a moment of silence to remember the moment my hopeful, foolish ass actually posted the first part with “1/2″ in the title)

“Nope, there’s something we gotta take care of first."

You watched with blatant bafflement as the three men nonchalantly walked away from the blazing truck that had been transporting them merely minutes ago. There was almost a bit of disappointment in your heart as you watched the plan you and Cleo had so meticulously orchestrated on your way here vanish into thin air. It was a shame – your rescue plan involved a lot more wow factor. Had you known the outcome of this small drawback, you wouldn’t have put so much effort into it; but how could you have guessed the three of them would find a way out of a van guarded by multiples soldiers all the while handcuffed and therefore supposedly incapacitated? That was absurd.

“Don’t look so surprised, it’s insulting.”

You shot Flag a tight lipped, mocking smile as a response to his friendly jab, clearly recognizing the words you had used against him in the afternoon. Your sardonic grimace poorly mirrored the playful smirk the colonel adorned as he walked towards the van, and you were surprised to feel your heart swell a bit when you noticed his smile spread into a genuine one as he walked past you, slightly shaking his head in amusement.

Without even questioning how they had gotten themselves out of that prickly situation, you whirled around and followed suit as Rick climbed back into the van, telling Milton the small change of plan. That one enthusiastically nodded before happily informing the squad that you’d reach the city by dawn, making you realize you had spent a good chunk of the night at that bar and yet did not feel that tired yet – which might just have been from the adrenaline released into your system at the sight of your three teammates walking out of a blazing vehicle.

“You sleep, I watch Thinker,” Nanaue suggested as he heavily lumbered towards the back of the van, where the hostage was surprisingly staying very still, wise enough not to attempt anything while sharing the same space as King Shark.

Your steps faltered as you entered the van, your gaze hesitatingly flickering towards the seats in the back which appeared way too crowded for your liking. You usually would’ve simply gone back to your seat at the front, but Rick was now occupying the one near the window, probably as a way to stay close to the driver.

With a reluctant sigh, you were about to follow King Shark towards the back when Rick casted a pointed look towards you before patting the seat beside him in case you did not understand.

Relief washed over you and you didn’t even need to give it a second thought before flopping onto the space beside him, glad not to have to settle for a spot anywhere near Peacemaker. Your muscles were stiff as you quite literally bounced onto the cushion, and as soon as your back did as much as graze the backrest, the entire day of walk, hours of dancing and minutes of worrying about Flag’s well-being caught up with you with a dizzying speed.

If earlier that day you had been able to fight off sleep vigorously, you now found yourself melting into the cushion of your seat as soon as you flopped onto it. At first, you remained steadfast, refusing to yield to your basic human needs as you forced yourself to sit up straight, but then there was a strong gravitational pull making you sway a bit on your seat as your head started lolling forward, and then another pull – Rick’s hand, this time – gently steering you back into your seat. Incapable of fending off the drowsiness any longer, you surrendered and finally allowed yourself to loosen up, feeling your head snugly land upon Rick’s shoulder as you drifted off into a soundless sleep.

-----

“Outburst, hey!”

“She’s sleeping.”

From his seat at the very back of the van, Peacemaker frowned as he craned his neck in an attempt to peer at your figure still slumped over Rick’s shoulder. “Well, wake her up,” he groused, tinges of annoyance seeping from his usually polished tone. “She’s… spewing her emotions all over the place. It’s reeking of sadness in there.”

◦◦◦

“It’s reeking in there; crack a window open, will you?”

Your finger harshly jabbed the switch, your gaze remained firmly fixed on the buildings passing by in a blur as the window lowered just a bit in an abrupt, choppy motion. From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of your mother shooting you a brief, curious look. You hadn’t uttered a word ever since you two had left the family reunion. You knew it hadn’t been a good idea to agree to come.

The car then lapsed into another uncomfortable silence. You were both acutely aware of the thick, sweltering acrimony flooding off of you and yet still refused to address it, instead letting you bask in it with your mouth clamped shut, letting it gnaw your insides until your lungs felt charred, incapable of drawing oxygen any longer.

Why had you agreed to this? You were an adult; you didn’t need to expose yourself to this anymore.

You bit the inside of your cheek and tried to breathe in deeply, only for your chest to constrict, becoming painfully hollow. Tears started brimming at the edges of your vision and you finally allowed your lips to part, letting a bated breath stumble out of them with urgency.

“I heard you earlier.”

◦◦◦

“I’m not waking her up,” Rick scowled in one curt sentence, already feeling a bit on edge and therefore not wanting to dwell on the matter.

Peacemaker’s eyebrows furrowed even deeper at Rick’s unwavering tone. He usually dealt easily with negotiation and compromises, he worked well under authority and was a suitable soldier because of it, but at the moment, he couldn’t find it in himself to be patient – maybe because of how thick with tension the atmosphere had become because of you.

“We can feel her,” he insisted again, spitting the words out in an irritated hiss.

◦◦◦

“Honey, I can feel you, tone it down,” your mother complained as she kept her eyes on the road. Either your words went completely over her head, or she refused to acknowledge them, knowing that with the amount of resentment she could feel rolling off of you in waves, there was no way a discussion could lead to a good outcome at the moment. She was already having a hard time not letting the irritation get to her in spite of the smoldering atmosphere.

“I heard you talking to aunt Matty,” you reiterated. “You said it was my fault.”

“What was?”

“Dad leaving.”

The uttered words dropped like thunder in the car, leaving the air charged with electricity.

“I didn’t say that,” she rebutted with a bit of an acerbic tone. The tension was starting to get to her, slowly but steadily eating away at her mind in spite of her resolve. She could feel the resentment seeping into her like a foreign body infiltrating her immune system, but paradoxically, the angrier she got, the less willing she was to fight it off. “Don’t twist my words, you know I hate when you do that.”

◦◦◦

“I didn’t say she wasn’t allowed to sleep,” Peacemaker clarified, starting to sound a bit agitated as the tensed atmosphere got more and more on his nerves. “I’m simply saying she shouldn’t until we are.”

“She’s not hurting anyone.”

◦◦◦

“You said I was hurting him.”

“I said he was often on the wrong end of your temper. Listen, it’s—”

“Back off!”

◦◦◦

“Back off,” Rick sternly admonished him as soon as Peacemaker made a step towards the front of the bus, protectively wrapping an arm around your sleeping form. “She needs to rest. She got shot acting as a distraction so your team could make a smooth entrance, remember?” he reminded the man scornfully.

Peacemaker’s face remained calm in spite of the irritation coloring his eyes. His gaze briefly flickered from you to Flag, hesitating.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

◦◦◦

“You know how you made him feel,” your mother uttered, efficiently putting an end to the exchange.

You remembered the times during which you were moody, when you came back home after having spent the entire day feeling everyone’s emotions around you, when your father did as much as try to talk to you about it, thus instantly setting you off. He was always the spark that ignited you. Whether he was inquiring about your day, or commenting on your behavior, or even just standing a bit too close to you… He’d end up angry, hurt, aggressive – whatever you were feeling at the moment, he’d always end up feeling it too.

Your mother was just wise enough to stay away.

But you also remembered the shouts in the kitchen, the jabs, the constant bickering between them. You remembered listening to it from the stairs and then being blamed for their bad tempers. You’d be blamed for the anger, the aggressiveness, the slaps that so often echoed through the house.

She was wise enough to stay away, and yet be close enough when she’d need an excuse.

“It wasn’t just me,” you whispered through gritted teeth.

“I never said it was.”

“It was you,” you spat out as you whipped your head towards her. “You made him miserable.”

Your eyes were completely focused on her face, her pursed lips and closed-off features, and never once did you notice the way her foot slowly started pressing further onto the accelerator.

◦◦◦

You woke up with a start and instantly casted a frantic gaze around you, expecting the usual blaring horns and shouts that followed this exchange. You were surprised to find yourself in a safe environment, all wrapped up in an unexpected warm, comforting atmosphere. Usually, the second you woke up, your instincts picked up on the foul aura of anguish you had unconsciously secreted into the air, and yet, here, you could feel nothing but utter peacefulness.

One of your eyebrows formed an elegant arch as you lowered your gaze to glimpse at the warm weight wrapped around you, only for your eyes to land on a familiar calloused hand hanging from your shoulder and almost grazing your cheek. You felt a faint smile tenderly pulling at the corners of your lips before even turning your head to confirm the identity of the owner of the arm wrapped around your shoulders, and when you turned your head to direct your gaze towards Flag’s sleeping face, you simply found yourself incapable to fight it off anymore.

Then, with a fond smile pulling at the corners of your lips, you snugly nestled you head back into his side and shut your eyes, this time knowing for a fact that you wouldn’t risk infuse the atmosphere with anything else than a blissful quietude.

◦◦◦

It was chaos. Utter chaos.

Your car was long abandoned a few feet away from you, fuming after having hit another vehicle in the middle of an intersection. The driver who had started fighting with you was now in a fully blown-out fist fight with another man who had merely tried to step in for you, and the more people got out of their cars to understand what was going on, the more people got trapped under your influence and started fighting, some going as far as purposefully ramming their vehicle into another’s.

Your voice was hoarse from shouting at the driver who had first attacked you and you were now trembling with anger as you watched an entire riot unfold before your very eyes, unconsciously fueling it with intense waves of rage that'd hit any innocent that'd happen to walk a bit to close to the scene.

Someone gripped your shoulder and you tried to jerk away from the touch, whirling your head towards the person with your teeth bared, ready to attack whoever was trying to get your attention.

“Honey, focus on me, alright? Focus on me.”

The voice was rough, the tone frenzied, and yet when the hands grasped your shoulders, it was with an unexpected gentleness. The fingers were quivering with restraint, barely managing not to dig into your skin in an attempt to snap you out of it.

This staggering tenderness startled you so much that it managed to take you out of your trance for a fleeting moment, allowing reason to take over as you fought back the instinctive urge to shove the hands away. With frantic, brimming eyes, you diverted your gaze towards your mother, desperate for a comforting point of focus to latch onto like a lifeline.

A sob threatened to crawl up your throat as soon as you met her eyes. There, in the midst of all the hardly concealed anger – a glint of affection, a vacillating spike of tenderness battling to emerge from under all that vibrating rage your mind was forcefully pushing into her. With a choked-up breath of relief, you instinctively stepped forward, latching onto that abiding twinkle of kindness in spite of all that surrounding violence like a lifeline.

Then, when there was an anticipated screeching of tires coming from your side, a glimpse of grey metal flashing out of the corner of your eye, and an oh-so-familiar harrowing feeling of dread seizing your insides, you kept your eyes unwaveringly locked into your mother’s, resolutely shutting out everything else around you. You bored your gaze into hers and let your mind soak in her warmth.

The car never came, the shouts quietened down, your surroundings slowed down until coming to a complete halt, time stalled and your dream mercifully stepped away from your memories to spare you.

You stood there for ages lost into your mother’s loving gaze, until – having strayed too far from reality – your subconscious lost all senses of what was and wasn’t at the time and let the scene morph into whatever your mind desired. Then, when the voice spoke up again, it wasn’t your mother standing before you anymore,  but a person you now trusted more than you ever thought you would.

“Don’t be scared of me.”

 -----

“We need to help these people.”

The words went completely over your head as you despairingly gaped at the glass in front of you, feeling cold to your bones.

You had gotten a bad feeling as soon as the elevator doors had cracked open.

There hadn’t even been time to make a step forward before you had gotten hit by the foul, repugnant thickness sullying the air with a strength that almost had you rearing your head back a bit. For a dizzying second, the vile and nauseating reek had left you standing there, blearily blinking as your senses had desperately struggled to accommodate to the repellent atmosphere. Yet, in spite of the tears brimming at the corners of your eyes just from the sheer despondency emanating from the place, you had been far from imagining the atrocity, the barbarism of the experiments that were taking place down here.

Despite your reluctance, you had been forced to follow the others as they had stalked out of the elevator, engaging into the dark and humid place with feeble, hesitant steps. As you had all crossed the small entrance leading to the laboratory, you had needed to fight your instincts that they had urgently pleaded you to simply whirl around and run back into the elevator.

Every breath you had taken weighed heavily on your tongue, the pungency sticking to the walls of your throat and poisoning your lungs. Every other second you had spent down there had simply felt like another year taken off your life, the wretched atmosphere slowly eating away at your brain like acid.

In spite of all of that, it had taken some time for the horror to truly dawn on you.

The despair had crept into your heart with every step you had made into the cellar, and then, when you had gotten to the center of it, you had felt for the very first time of your life an intense claustrophobia swarming your heart. Surrounded by a sea of decaying bodies all bound together by the same searing, devastating agony, the hostile basement had quickly gone from a gruesome laboratory to a deadly trap slowly closing in on you.

With nothing but wandering bodies all around you, you felt at the bottom of a pit of wretchedness, your head swelling with an intense, overwhelming pain. It was as though you were entrapped in the center of a microwave which was channeling thousands of screams directly towards your brain instead of radiations, however one of them was significantly stronger than the others and seemed to come from the wide glass wall right in front of you.

“Impossible, dear. They’re corpses below those stars.”

In spite of the searing agony flaring through your chest, your heartbeat seemed to slow down and settle onto a numbing, soporific pace as you unconsciously started stepping towards the wide glass, as though bewitched by the heart-wrenching wail you felt coming from whatever was hiding in that liquid.

With trembling, tentative fingers, you lifted your hand and slowly pressed your palm against the freezing glass, yearning to soothe the poor sufferer from their wrenching agony. The pain only seemed to intensify at the touch, the feeling of desolation gripping your insides as your ears started ringing, completely isolating you from the others. There was nothing else in that room but you and a desolated martyr screaming with thousand of voices right into your mind.

You watched with mournful, brimming eyes as the dark figure behind the glass started stirring until a single, colossal eye revealed itself in front of you, appearing emotionless to any common spectator and yet emitting an amount of woe that would’ve had you on your knees had you not gotten so used to sensing people’s emotions.

“Outburst?”

Rick’s voice rose up right behind you but still didn’t startle you, your eyes riveted onto the creature before you with rapt focus.

“It’s in pain,” you croaked out, the faint words scraping your dry throat like some sandpaper grating your vocal cords. “It’s in so much pain.” You shifted your fingers a bit, as if trying to press your hand closer to the glass, get closer to that strange creature, completely blind to the danger it represented. The tentacles, bumps and single eye did not matter – all you could see was the utter suffering it was in.

“Well,” the Thinker unabashedly butted in, “if I’m not mistaken regarding the purpose of your self-righteous egomaniacal mission – not for much longer.”

His words dawned on you with a dry clarity and had you shifting away from the glass in one brisk motion to whirl your head towards Rick. “We can’t kill it,” you asserted with an adamant, steadfast tone that did not match the slight waver in your voice.

“We have orders.”

Rick’s steadfast voice was way more convincing than yours, and what would’ve usually been a mere reminder of his status as colonel felt like a frustrating hindrance that only heightened the desperation swarming your heart and made you let go of the glass to tighten your fists as you turned around to fully face him.

“No, we can’t, we have to help it, it’s—”

“It’s dangerous,” Rick cut you off, his distrust-colored eyes briefly flickering towards the glass wall.

“It’s suffering!”

Your distressed screech echoed through the cellar, your plea painfully reverberating on the walls and splattering the frantic desperation dripping from your tone all around the basement.

For a fleeting moment, Flag remained speechless, as if hit with full force by the intensity of your despair. During that fleeting moment, you caught a glimpse of the hesitation flashing in his eyes, the way he seemed to ponder over the situation for even just a second, wondering what to do and which way to choose. Then, his gaze flickered to the side, briefly meeting Peacemaker’s, and you were able to pinpoint the exact moment he put his guards up again, welding back on his old mask of professionalism to tightly shut out any emotion you could try to induce in him.

There was a subtle shift in his expression, so subtle you might not even have noticed had you not been so desperately seeking any trace of support on his features. Instead of showing the understanding you were so badly hoping for, the traits of his face hardened, the glint in his eyes dimmed, and then you weren’t standing before Rick anymore, you were facing the colonel, towering over you with his back straight and his orders engraved in his mind.

You were acutely aware of the fact that the mission outweighed you; you had just hoped Rick would hold enough respect towards you to give your words the slightest bit of consideration. Apparently, this respect only allowed you one minute of his time before he completely shut you out.

With a sharp, regretful sigh, he took a step towards you and grabbed your arm with a gentle reluctance that contrasted with the harshness of his tone as he said that you needed to go with the other team.

You tried to protest but his strides were long and hasty, and before you even knew it, he was punching the first-floor button of the elevator as you stood inside of it, stunned.

Just as the doors started closing before you, you feebly parted your lips to utter one last plead; your pained, wavering voice coming out laced with betrayal. “You said I could trust you.”

When he had seemed ready to turn away as soon as the doors started closing between you, Rick’s attention seemed to be piqued by your words as he shifted his gaze back onto you, lingering in front of the elevator for just a second more.

The distress coloring your eyes melted into a sullen resignation as soon as your gaze bored into his, your chest constricting with dejection. There, under the thick coat of seriousness, in the midst of all the restrained belligerence this place inspired him, no glint of affection was to be found, no spike of tenderness desperately trying to emerge from the vibrating anger – nothing but cold, glaring callousness.

Not Rick.

Colonel.

-----

“Where’s Flag?”

Bloodsport turned his gaze towards you, and you instantly recognized the apologetic look in his eyes.

As he grimly shook his head, you finally experienced it firsthand – the agony of a thousand people.

-----

“Apparently Waller sent something to his hospital room. People are joking and saying she sent flowers, but if you want my opinion the old hag probably sent him a reminder that his contract doesn’t cover paid sick leaves.”

The voice, just like the steps accompanying it, echoed through the corridor and kept getting closer to your cell, undoubtedly coming from yet another guard who’d attempt to get a word or a reaction out of you – anything that’d stop them from having to book in an appointment with the jail therapist.

You had seen many of them pass by while you had spent days in a temporary cell during your recovery but hadn’t thought they’d keep on sending them after having transferred back in your old cell this morning.

The landscape change didn’t make any difference for you, as you simply kept on staring at the wall for hours on end with the most irksome gloomy look clouding your features.

You couldn’t think about anything else than Rick.

You didn’t think you had even truly processed it yet. It had happened too fast.

Within the span of a few days, the colonel had somehow gained your trust, slowly leading you to warm up to him by showing you an affection you hadn’t experienced in years. It felt like he had turned your world upside down, made everything brighter with the prospect of saving lives alongside a superior who truly valued you, and then you had made the mistake of letting him out of your sight, forced to walk away from that dreadful laboratory for just a few minutes, and he had died there, the one person on this earth who you could genuinely trust now buried under the rumbles in that bottomless pit of agony.

You had mulled over it what felt like a thousand times already and you just could not figure out how to simply go on with your life. Not when your one chance at a brighter future had been squandered so violently as soon as you had turned your back to it.

Somehow, it felt like your fault.

You had been careless, unfocused. You had forcefully dragged Rick’s attention away from the mission at hand only because you were too weak to handle the downsides of your ability, your eyes pathetically overflowing with tears of empathy as the rest of your team simply tried to achieve the mission. You had distracted Rick as that one had been forced to take you to the elevator like a child, had unconsciously helped Peacemaker steal a secret file and forced Cleo to try and stop him on her own before Flag could come to her aid.

The file had been retrieved, but only after Bloodsport had stopped Peacemaker from coldly eliminating Cleo. Only after Rick’s body had already been left laying soundly in the laboratory.

They had fought with all their might for that file, for those values you had accused Flag of lacking merely days ago, and you hadn’t even been there.

It had been crushing to find out that the trust you held towards him had been misplaced, but it was nothing in comparison to discovering he shouldn’t have trusted you either.

You forcefully swallowed back the lump in your throat when you heard the steps finally come to a halt right by your cell and had a hard time concealing the startled look on your face when a very familiar voice rose up.

“Well well well, from what I’ve heard little princess doesn’t want to eat anymore?”

The hair on the back of your neck stood on end at the falsely dulcet tone dripping with a syrupy looking but dangerously abrasive poison. You had to keep yourself from gritting your teeth as your gaze caught up on Griggs’ silhouette standing before your cell from the corner of your eye.

“You’re not even gonna make an effort for me?” he teased you as his lips spread into a sneering smile that made him look more moronic than sadistic due to the absolute lack of sagacity behind his eyes.

You kept your mouth tightly shut and your eyes riveted to the wall across from you, trying to muster the blankest expression you could not to let him affect you but feeling a peeved expression weighing down on your features nonetheless.

“Aww, guys it looks like we’re gonna have to use the feeding tubes,” Griggs ironically groaned, turning towards his colleagues with a facetious glint in his eyes. One of them instantly stepped up to open the door to your cell, not even needing to think twice about the threat just emitted. “You know how much I hate doing that,” he then kept on jeering, much to the amusement of the other guards.

You waited with anticipation as he stepped into the cell, feeling your entire body buzzing with an overpowering apprehension, not having a clue of what you could do but knowing for a fact that with all the adrenaline slowly being spread into your system, there was no way you’d let Griggs go back to his old mistreatment.

His filthy fingers barely grazed your skin, and, as though electrified, you jumped to your feet, putting some distance between you and him. You kept your eyes determinedly fixated in front of you but could see from the corner of your eye how stunned he was by your abrupt reaction. He had gotten to the unresponsive side of you that had emerged after only a few months here, the poor figure staying down on the ground and no longer batting an eyelash at his constant abuse. His face remained dazed for a fleeting moment before the ghost of a smirk reappeared on his features.

After all, he had broken you once, it’d be no bother to do it a second time.

“What, you go on one mission with Task Force X and then you don’t like me anymore?”

He reached out a hand again, much more aggressively this time, and you jolted away, instinctively bringing a hand up without even knowing if you were willing to take the risk of hitting him.

“Step away from her, Griggs.”

The stone cold words loudly rang through the cell and heavily fell between you both, instantly followed by a deafening silence as Griggs’ hand hovered in the air for a fleeting moment, just inches away from the skin of your arm.

Then, for a dizzying, fleeting moment, it felt as though all the air had been sucked out of the cell.

Chill shivers of relief racked your spine before your brain even had time to process the voice, and then, when the familiarity of it finally sank in, you felt as though some freezing water had been dumped over you, leaving you soaked and shivering in the middle of your cell – only this time Griggs wasn't the cause of it.

You whirled your head towards the entrance of your cell with a vertiginous speed and had to bite back a choked-up noise from stumbling out of your lips when your gaze landed upon the owner of the voice glowering at Griggs with a murderous look in his eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be back yet,” Griggs pointed out sheepishly, letting his arm limply drop to his side now that his focus had been completely taken off of you.

“I was feeling better,” Rick informed him with a tight-lipped smile which then briskly dropped from his features. “Now stand down,” he repeated himself, his voice steadfast and as neutral as he could muster it. “I wouldn’t push my luck if I were you. I’ve seen what you did to her, and I’d love to show you what it feels like to be on the wrong side of the blade.”

The threat made the cell go utterly silent and for just a second, the sweetest second ever, all traces of amusement vanished from Griggs’ suddenly pale face. He looked started, nervous, oh so pathetic, and then when he finally regained his composure enough to quickly muster up the most serious look he could to paint on his pallid features, he had already lost all respect from every occupant of the room.

“You’d risk your job for a bitch who told you to eat shit five minutes into your mission?”

There was an imperceptible twitch on Rick’s features at the reminder. He had to briskly fight off a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, but you could still discern the faintest glint of amusement in his eyes and had to swallow back a choked-up laugh – your heart swarming with a bunch of overwhelming emotions you couldn’t even identify at the moment.

His eyes briefly flickered to you. “Apparently,” he conceded with the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips, before he cast his gaze back on Griggs and recovered a cold, severe expression. “And, trust me, given how liked you are around here, I don’t think I’d risk more than a paid leave even if I attempted to murder you.”

Yet another sullen silence fell over the cell like a heavy fog, and this time, Griggs made the wise decision of not shattering it, containing his anger within a single huff before stalking out of the cell with heavy steps that made him akin to a stomping child. His colleagues briefly glanced at Rick, not quite knowing what to do, before meeting his eyes and promptly deciding to follow Griggs’ decision.

“You’re alive,” you breathlessly uttered as soon as you were both left alone.

“A bit roughed up, but yes, alive,” he winced back, turning his gaze towards you.

You knew he couldn’t feel the blissful exultation swarming your heart now that your ability was smothered by the collar secured around your neck, but you hoped he could see it in your eyes and in the way you just couldn’t seem to blink those relieved tears away.

Rick took a few steps towards you and let out a bated breath, as if he was finally allowed to exhale, as if he hadn’t been able to feel comfortable until standing near you again – and you then knew for a fact that if he couldn’t see the exultation in your heart, he at least felt it as well.

Without another word, he then tentatively brought a hand up before letting it hover uncertainly in the air. He seemed hesitant as if he wasn’t sure how to act anymore now that his mask of professionalism was gone, and you couldn’t help but let out a short chuckle. This was enough for a single droplet to finally fall from your brimming eyes, and the way Rick’s gaze seemed to soften even more at the sight of it almost led you to shedding a few more.

With utter cautiousness, he brought his hand to your face to brush the stray tear away and then left it there, his warm palm cradling your cheek.

“Looks like I’ve won again,” he said in a breath, the words merely stumbling out of his lips as if he were afraid to break that frail, tender moment of vulnerability between the two of you. His thumb gently stroked your cheek again and you couldn’t help but lean into his touch, your gaze never once leaving his. “I really want to kiss you right now.”

You had once said that the only way for Rick to ever get close to you was for you to give out your last breath, and yet, ever since that very vow you had felt yourself ever-so-slowly opening up to him, as though there was something in the air and it was killing you softly.

Now that the sweet, sweet poison had filled up your lungs – all wrapped up in his arms and boring your gaze into his with a wide-eyed fascination – you chose to completely let go of that vow, braving the risk to perish and merely uttering back two candid, gentle words.

“Pretty please.”

Previous

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[undercoveravenger]

Perfect Harmony

Pairing: Luke Patterson x Male!Reader

Requested: Yes

Original Request: “Hey! I have a JATP request if you're still writing them :) A Luke!xmale reader who's in the band (He can take Bobby's place). Reader and Luke have a good friendship and always stare at each-other to make the other laugh during performances but reader develops feelings for Luke so during Edge of Great he avoids eye-contact which Luke isn't happy about and after the show he confronts the reader and the reader finally confesses? Thank you!”

-----------

Ever since you and your bandmates died, things had been strange and not just strange in a ‘we were killed by some bad hot dogs and woke up twenty-five years later as ghosts’ kind of way. No, that was something you could learn to deal with, but you couldn’t get behind the way what remained of Sunset Curve was beginning to drift apart.

Alex had a new friend, a ghost skateboarder named Willie, and you could tell that he had started developing feelings for him. You were happy for him, as much as it hurt to see one of your friends moving on without you.

And Luke- Luke hadn’t been the same since you woke up.

Reggie had taken it upon himself to find out what had happened to his family in the time that the four of you were gone, which meant that he spent a lot of the time outside of rehearsals snooping through records of house sales in the last couple of decades to see if he could find any clue to help him figure out where they might have moved. You knew that the odds of Reggie leaving the band behind were slim to none, but he’d always been so close to his siblings that you couldn’t be absolutely certain.

You had always known that Luke regretted running away from home, but now he spent hours a day watching over his parents or writing songs with Julie, the only living person that had been able to see the four of you since you’d become ghosts.

Along with Julie herself being able to see you came the staggering realization that other people could also see you when you performed with her. This led to the end of Sunset Curve as you’d known it and gave rise to the creation of your new band, Julie and the Phantoms.

You really couldn’t bring yourself to be too upset about the change though, not when every day that Luke got to play his guitar and write songs with Julie made him seem so much more alive.

So what if you used to be his song-writing partner and tease each other on stage whenever you performed and your chest tightened uncomfortably a little when those big brown puppy-dog eyes held yours for just a little too long? You were willing to put your feelings about the situation aside because Luke was your best friend and you loved him.

No, it was more than that, you realized in a startling moment of clarity. You were in love with him.

Thinking back on it, you were sure that you’d loved him for a long time. It made sense; you were always tempted to play with his hair or throw your arm around his shoulder and tug him close. And the way that he looked at you when you sang together always made you feel a little like you’d just stepped off of a roller coaster - dizzy and just a little off-balance but pumped full of so much adrenaline that you can’t wait to do it again.

The weight of an arm curling over your shoulder and your best friend’s blinding smile was enough to drag you out of your thoughts and back to the present, where you’re mere moments away from appearing on stage and playing your heart out with the other phantoms at a party in Julie’s backyard.

“Let’s give ‘em a show to remember,” Luke murmured, just barely loud enough for you to hear. He shot you one last heart-stopping grin before vanishing and reappearing on stage with Alex and Reggie.

You swore under your breath as you missed your cue, quickly teleporting to take Julie’s place at the piano as she stood and moved to go jam with Reggie. Muscle memory kicked in quickly, allowing your fingers to dance effortlessly over the keys to the harmony of Edge of Great, one of the new songs that Julie had helped Luke write.

Right on cue Luke began to sing, his voice washing over you as smooth and sweet as honey. You could feel the weight of his eyes on you, knowing that this was right about when you’d have turned around to pull a dumb face at him to make him laugh if this had been any normal set.

But this wasn’t just a normal performance; you’d just realized that you were in love with your best friend and if you looked at him now, you knew that he’d know something was wrong. With that in mind, you focused on the ivories under your fingers and chiming in on the choruses when you were meant to.

You could tell that Luke was trying to catch your eye, moving repeatedly to try and get into your field of view only for you to ignore him. You could feel yourself tensing as the end of the song crept closer and you could hear Luke’s voice more and more clearly as he approached you, though you forced yourself to continue playing even as he settled beside you on the piano bench. You couldn’t help but meet his gaze with such a small distance between you, almost startling in its intensity.

Just then Julie trailed off on her last note, which you took as your signal to vanish, teleporting directly up into the loft of the studio. All of your bandmates knew that this was where you went when something was troubling you, so you were confident that you’d be left to your own devices as you parsed through your thoughts.

You were proven wrong when you’d turned around to pace in the other direction only to crash directly into Luke.

He put a hand on your shoulder, both to steady you and keep you from running away again. “What’s up with you, man?” he started, clearly annoyed at how distant you were acting. “You missed a cue and then you were… off the rest of the song!”

You shook your head, shrugging away from his hand and taking a few steps back to give yourself some space to think. “I just have a lot on my mind, alright?”

“A lot on your mind?” he echoed incredulously, brows furrowed over concerned brown eyes, “Dude, we died and you didn’t let that bug you. What the hell could possibly be  weighing on you enough to throw you off like that?”

You hesitated, the words you’d been thinking leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. “I think I need to leave the band.”

Reggie and Alex went quiet downstairs. A long moment passed and then you could hear the distinct sound of them teleporting away, leaving to give the two of you some privacy for what would undoubtedly be a very difficult conversation.

Luke looked like he’d have been less hurt if you’d punched him across the face. “W-what?”

Forcing yourself to continue was hard, but you knew that you couldn’t stop now that you’d started. “We’ve all changed a lot since Sunset Curve, Luke. I just don’t think that how I’ve changed is going to be good for Julie and the Phantoms.”

“That can’t be true,” Luke protested, crossing his arms over his chest stubbornly. “You’re just as much a part of this band as any of us, no matter if you changed or not!”

You sighed, scrambling to find an excuse that Luke would accept. “I’ve realized something about myself that makes it really hard for me to stay-”

Luke cut you off, “Look, if you’re worried about coming out or something like that making it weird, I’m pretty sure that no one in this band is actually straight so-”

“I’m in love with you,” you said, interrupting him before his rambling could pick up any more speed.

You could see the moment that he realized what you had said, his eyes going wide and his mouth dropping open in surprise. He seemed too stunned to say anything.

“This is why I didn’t want to say anything,” you sighed, rolling your eyes and turning away. “Forget it, I’m gonna go.”

“Wait,” Luke said, reaching out and grabbing your wrist to stop you from leaving. He hesitated when you turned to look at him, clearly struggling to come up with what to say. “Did you mean that?”

For a second you considered lying, saying that it had all been a joke, but you knew that you could never lie to your best friend like that, even if it was your heart on the line. “Yeah,” you said finally, unable to look Luke in the eyes.

“Oh,” Luke murmured, a faint grin creeping across his features, “Good.”

Your brows furrowed, confused, and you looked up to ask him what he meant just as he leaned in to kiss you.

The kiss only lasted a moment before Luke pulled away, but it was long enough for you to start comprehending what had just happened.

Luke’s eyes glimmered happily in the dim lighting of the studio, the corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile just wide enough for the dimples you’d always admired to indent his cheeks, “I’ve been wanting to do that for ages.”

“You should’ve,” you teased, grinning back at him before leaning in to kiss him again. He met you halfway, smiling against your lips. There was a distinct warmth in your chest at how well he could read you, but then you knew that it really shouldn’t be too surprising. You and Luke together had always been a perfect harmony.

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 05 / all for us

summary: after the recent incident, you don’t feel a real reason to live. so why try to live?

note: this was supposed to be longer, but i loved how it ended. i’m also a suffering from headaches again. please be patient with me. also, PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS IVE LISTED. this is a DARK chapter.

taglist: @the-sun-baby @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @uniquepickle @ascybous @saturnalya @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky

word count: 1.4k

warnings/notes: cursing, suicidal thoughts, self harm, attempt of suicide, dark, panic attack

YOU lay on the floor of your closet once again, the scratchy carpet being the only thing that provided you with warmth. the only person you'd seen for the past few days was erwin. anytime he'd even mention levi, you'd beg for him not to see you.

you groan quietly, deciding to go lay in your bed for a while so your skin won't keep itching. your foot chills when it touches the hardwood floor of your room, and it distracts you from the task at hand.

you're dizzy now, only being able to focus on your foot. it didn't help much since you collapsed onto your side, breathing heavily through your nose as you stare blankly to the wall. you haven't stood up for hours, opting to leave the closet only to go to the restroom.

you blink while getting back onto your feet, hand pressed against your head as if you were soothing it. you decide to go to the bathroom, if you go now that means you won't have to go later.

you watch your hands afterwards, tired eyes watching your reflection in the crystal clear mirror.

your face was bruised, you have a black eye and a deep cut on your cheek from levi's wedding band.

you look back down to your hands, wanting to focus on something else in order to soothe yourself. you don't bother to dry your hands off with a towel, opting to shaking them around in the air.

your feet drag against the floor as you jump into your bed, body smoothly sliding across it so your head rests against a pillow. you curl up under the covers, genuine warmth crashing against your body for the first time in days. it's almost overwhelming, but you can't find it in yourself to care.

you watch a movie to help pass the first hour and a half of you being outside of the closet. you play another movie for background noise, getting off of your bed and walking to the bookshelf.

you grab a black book with white font, grabbing a smaller blanket and throwing it over your lap once you sit in a chair.

you’re going to read some of this book and then retreat back to your safe space whenever they come to feed you.

even though you’re reading the story, you can barely comprehend the words along with the plot line. everything seems to be a jumbled mess inside of your mind, so much that it makes your head hurt right behind your eyes. time stretches longer than you meant for it to as you keep rereading all the sentences, hoping to gain at least a tiny bit of understanding.

you’re attention is taken away by the sound of the door opening and closing. you’d been so focused you hadn’t even noticed that someone was coming to see you. and not only was it someone, it was levi.

the book falls out of your hands and onto the floor, eyes wide as you stare at levi with fear.

he’s holding your tray of food for lunch, which you don’t think you’ll be eating today since it’s not erwin who’s going to feed you.

levi tries not to get irritated at the way your body is trembling. he hasn’t even said a single word and you’re already cowering.

when levi steps closer, you jump out of the chair and into the corner furthest from him. you cry out for erwin, for help, anyone that will be able to take levi away from you.

it startles levi for a moment, but it’s soon replaced with frustration as he makes another step.

you scream while tears gush out of your eyes, nailing planting onto the wall you’re up against. levi angrily puts the tray of food down onto your windowsill, metal and glass clinking against one another in unsynchronized harmony.

for whatever reason, it has you screeching with you dropping to the floor and cover your head with your arms. levi’s worried and goes to make a move towards you, but you’re too frightened to think.

your screeching has his head pounding, so much that he’s silently praying that erwin would just come in already.

“i’m—i’m trying to fucking help!” he barks at you, stomping his foot onto the hardwood flooring.

you jump once more, protecting yourself more than before.

levi goes to scream again, but he’s interrupted by the door to your room slamming open.

erwin’s there, half dressed and messy hair while his eyes frantically scan the area. his eyes widen at the sight of your cowering, quickly rushing over to you to sit in front of you.

“what happened,” he asks levi while cautiously pressing a hand to your knee.

“i just walked in and she just went batshit,” levi says with exasperation, confusion and anger flashing on his face.

“get out. you scare her,” he orders with furrowed brows, stroking the skin of your kneecap with his thumb.

levi scoffs but listens anyways, shutting the door behind him.

“my love, everything’s okay. it’s just us now,” he murmurs sweetly, managing to coax you out of your panicked state just a bit.

“us? j... just us,” your voice is shaky as your hand absentmindedly reaches out for erwin.

“yes, just us,” he confirms with a smile, managing to gather you in his large arms.

you continue to cry, only this time you can breathe.

“can’t be with ‘im... i’m scared,” you admit while attaching yourself to erwin, “so scared.”

shushing you, he coos, “you can, i believe in you.”

wrong choice.

“no! no! NO,” you start to trash in his arms, once again entering the almost inconsolable mind state.

since he wasn’t expecting your panicked reactions, you manage to kick him in the chest and push him away. his body bangs against the stool of your vanity, knocking it onto his side with a loud crash.

levi runs back inside, watching how you jump to your feet and over to your vanity. erwin manages to scoot further away from you, slightly unsure of your next move.

you’re sobbing uncontrollably as you slam your fast into your vanity’s mirror. it’s so clean, not a smudge on it. not even a speck of lint. it’s perfect.

the shards cut your hand, but you don’t care, too high on adrenaline. levi and erwin go to disarm you just as you manage to grasp a particularly large and sharp shard of glass.

the moment it’s in your hand, you raise your opposite wrist to the glass while screaming at the two men.

“NOT ANOTHER STEP,” you cry as you push the glass against your skin, freezing both levi and erwin, “not another fucking step or i kill myself with this shard right fucking here.”

“(name), my love, it’s alright! it’s okay! no one’s going to hurt you,” erwin barely moves an inch while he pleads, but you don’t care.

“I SAID NOT ANOTHER STEP!!” you roar while slicing the glass against your skin, blood immediately pouring from the new wound.

dark red paints the glass as your finger swipes against the blood by accident.

“get out,” you whimper, “just leave me alone to die, please.”

“we can’t do that,” levi says calmly, accidentally taking a step out of instinct.

it feels comparable to flour whenever the blade slices through your pretty skin. it burns and you know that you might end up having to get stitches from just how deep it is if you want to live. and considering you can only really get stitches from hospitals, you say your goodbyes in your head.

“if you can’t do that,” your vision is starting to grow hazy as your breath comes out ragged, “then, i’ll just kill myself right here, knife at the vein.”

this is the only way you’ll be free again. the only way you’ll be away from them. the only way you’ll probably ever get to see your friends again.

your hope has dwindled into nothing. you know you cannot get away, not in a million years. now, there’s only one way to escape. death.

and by god if you let one of them slaughter you.

and so, you slash your arm once more right against the vein. blood oozes from the wound with ease while your eyes roll back and your knees hit the floor. the last thing you see is erwin and levi running towards you with panicked looks on their faces. it almost makes you laugh.

you hope to see them in hell.

[pink-flame]

Promises Kept - A WFW Missing Scene

Soooo...I let it slip earlier to @mamirugbee that in my original plot outline for We Found Wonderland the scene where Luke finally wins the ring was there. I ended up not writing it because I thought that would be too much angst on top of everything else and you all would riot. But she wanted it and I love her so I wrote it. But then I got distracted with other angst on the way to that angst...so you also get the immediate aftermath of Julie leaving. Oops. It's 2 for 1 night for WFW angst! Just remember I WAS ASKED FOR THIS. Love you, Jenni. 💜

Luke held it together pretty well for approximately three days.

After watching Julie disappear right in front of his eyes, while he smiled...smiled to show her he would be ok...he had sunk to the ground, very much not ok. He had stayed there, just outside the garage doors, dizzy and sick to his stomach while the reality of the situation washed over him until finally the change in light alerted him to the fact hours had passed. He realized somewhere vaguely in the back of his mind through the haze of mental static that the rest of the guys would be home from school soon. He didn’t want them to see him like this. He didn’t want to be the one who had to tell them what had happened, didn't want to see the hurt in their eyes or even worse the sympathy. His instincts were screaming at him to run away from the situation, to escape like he had escaped his parents’ house when their smothering attention and rules became too much. The urge to grab his acoustic and walk out and never come back was strong, his fingers clenching and unclenching at his side as he turned the idea over in his mind.

In the end it was never really an option.

He couldn’t leave his friends.

He couldn’t leave his band.

He couldn’t leave his parents, not again.

And most of all he couldn’t leave the life Julie had almost sacrificed everything to make sure he got to live.

He had promised her a lot of things. That they would make things work somehow. That he would win her that dumb ring. That he would help her reconnect with her dad. That it would always be him and her, Luke and Julie, in it together against nosy bandmates, and questionable record labels, and the looming possibility of being separated by thousands of miles (back when that had seemed like as far apart as they could get).

And he had promised her that he would take care of their friends, and follow his dreams and do his best to be happy.

It turned out that the one promise he had made her that every inch of him was screaming out in protest against might be the only one he could actually keep.

So he would.

Luke unclenched his palms and placed his hands flat against the pavement outside the garage doors. He took a deep if shaky breath then pressed them into the firm surface until he managed to haul himself to his feet, his legs protesting as he forced them to move through their stiffness. He just had time to drag himself into the bathroom and splash cold water on his face before he heard the telltale sounds of his friends approaching, their boisterous voices carrying from all the way down the driveway. He emerged back into the studio, purposefully turning away from the doors in a desperate bid to buy himself a few extra seconds to compose himself before he had to explain Julie’s absence.

“And then I said if a platypus is a mammal where’s their nipples cause that’s how mammals feed their kids, right?”

“Reggie, I don’t know what made you think we want to hear this conversation…”

“Oh come on, Bobby, where’s your intellectual curiosity. Go on, Reggie.”

“Right, so then Mr. Gleeson said they don’t have nipples. They feed their babies by basically sweating milk through milk gutters.”

“Ok...I take it back, Bobby was right. I now know way more than I ever wanted to.”

“Luke, will get it. Hey, Luke! Guess what I…”

Luke turned slowly to face his friends and watched their faces fall as they took in his tight expression. Apparently his efforts to school his face into a neutral mask had failed epically. Luke realized his hands were shaking and shoved the offending appendages into his pockets hoping that would hide the effects of his runaway emotions.

That also seemed to be wishful thinking.

“What’s wrong?” Bobby asked bluntly, taking half a step towards Luke before stopping short when he saw the way he flinched. “Oh.”

“Luke, I’m…” Alex swallowed hard and glanced away for a moment seemingly fighting with his own emotions. “I’m so sorry.”

Reggie was the last to speak, the panic stealing over his face like a punch directly to Luke’s chest.

“Where’s Julie?”

When Luke didn’t answer right away he asked again, shaking off Alex’s attempts to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, where’s Julie?”

“Home,” He answered simply, his voice steady despite the emotions still raging inside of him.

He knew what he had to do now.

He had to honor Julie the only way he could, by helping his friends be ok.

“What? No,” Reggie protested, looking back and forth between his friends as though expecting someone to tell him it was a joke. “She wouldn’t. Not without saying goodbye.”

“She didn’t have a choice,” Luke told him gently. “The portal just appeared and she...she ran out of time.”

“Ok, ok,” Reggie ran his fingers through his hair roughly, leaving pieces standing up in all directions. “We can go to the ghost club, right? We can get Willie to help us get into Caleb’s dressing room and we can go find her.”

“That’s a good way to get killed by an evil ghost,” Bobby pointed out.

“We’ll figure it out,” Reggie insisted.

“Reg...we don’t even know...we don’t know if Caleb still trusts WIllie or not. We haven’t seen him since that night.”

Luke could hear the pain in his friend’s voice and he hated it. Alex might not have had the time to develop the same deep connection with Willie that Luke had with Julie, but he knew his friend had seen flashes of that potential in their stolen moments. The fact that Willie had been missing in action since he tried to help them save Julie weighed heavily on Alex. Luke could see it. He just couldn’t do anything about it except be there for him as much as he could.

He was going to need Alex too.

He was going to need all of them.

“Reggie, even if we could do that she didn’t want us to. She didn’t want us to leave our families or our dreams or our lives here. She fought so hard for us to have them. We have to live like it’s now or never, for her.”

He managed a small, sad smile hoping it would calm Reggie’s rising agitation but it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“Don’t quote your lyrics at me, dude,” Reggie snapped, once again brushing off Alex’s attempts to put a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re supposed to be in love with her. How can you just let her go without a fight?”

Luke felt like his throat was closing up as Reggie’s words hit him like a slap in the face. He knew his friend didn’t mean it, not really. He was just hurt and scared and mourning the loss of the little sister he loved.

It didn’t make it hurt any less to have his own doubts and guilt thrown back into his face though.

Before Luke could come up with anything else to say to comfort him, Reggie reached up to wipe at his eyes and spun on his heels, stomping out of the garage and down the driveway.

Alex shot Luke a worried look before nodding after their friend.

“I’ll check on him. I’ll be right back, ok?”

Then he was gone and Luke and Bobby were alone in the garage.

Bobby was looking at Luke like he was some kind of wounded animal and Luke wished he would stop because the longer his best friend looked at him like that the more tempting it was to totally break down. And he couldn’t do that and keep his promise to Julie. So he would hold it together. He would.

“I’m not going to ask if you’re ok because that would be a stupid question,” Bobby said, crossing the garage to sink onto the couch before patting the seat next to him expectantly.

Luke hesitated for a second or two before sighing and sinking down next to Bobby, the urge to tap his foot or drum on his knee overwhelming though he fought it down. He didn’t need to give Bobby more ammunition about his mental state. Not that he needed it.

“Look, I’m going to miss her too,” Bobby cleared his throat before reaching out to pat semi-awkwardly at Luke’s knee. “And I know it’s going to be worse for you. But I’m here for you. We all are. So just...don’t run, ok?”

Luke could have laughed at that if his mouth had seemed to remember how. His friends really did know him too well. Still. He had already ruled out that course of action.

“I won’t,” He promised.

And he didn’t.

What he did do was dive headfirst into trying to make sure their lives would go on like Julie wanted. He was there waiting when Reggie processed his feelings enough to feel bad about his outburst and showed up at the garage in the middle of the night and pulled Luke into a tight hug that lasted a long time. He was there when Alex wanted to talk about feeling anxious not knowing for sure if Julie had made it back to her time and what she had found there. He was even there when Bobby admitted that he missed Julie but he missed Queenie too and he wasn’t sure that the band was ever going to be as close as they once were. Luke did his best to reassure them all, checked in on his mom, and started calling around trying to book them a gig even though they had hardly any songs they could use and none of the bookers he spoke to seemed particularly interested.

He forced himself to tell bad jokes, and offered to go get pizza and suggest busking so they could refill their food fund.

He did all of that for three days until it was like the adrenaline he had been running off of ever since Julie disappeared into a hole in the ground finally wore off. On the fourth day he knew his friends noticed that he was quieter than normal though none of them said anything, just exchanged mildly worried looks. On the fifth day he lost his appetite, picking at the leftover pizza that Bobby had warmed up for him and refusing the variety of junk food his friend then hauled out to the garage. On the sixth day he slept most of the day, drifting in and out of fitful dreams. He had only emerged for a couple of bathroom breaks and was back curled under the blanket he usually left unused when his friends showed up after school, their worried looks no longer mild.

The 7th day was a Friday but they didn’t go to school. Instead they staged what amounted to an intervention, hovering around the couch (he didn’t bother folding it out now that the possibility of Julie crawling in next to him was gone) and refused to stop staring creepily at him until he sat up with an annoyed huff.

“Don’t you have school?” He muttered, pulling the blanket more firmly around his shoulders despite the smothering heat.

“We’re not going,” Reggie said, reaching out and yanking the blanket away from Luke in on quick movement.

“Hey!” Luke protested.

“We’re worried about you,” Alex said ignoring the way Luke was suddenly looking anywhere but at his friends. “You pretended nothing was wrong and then you crashed hard.”

“You’re depressed,” Bobby said bluntly, because of course he did.

He was annoyingly accurate and to the point at all times unless he was hiding his meaning in some obscure literary quote of course.

“I’m not,” Luke tried, feeling strangely exposed without the weight of the blanket. “I miss Julie...a lot, ok? But she wanted us to live and I’m living.”

“There’s living and there’s living,” Reggie countered, dropping down next to Luke to sling an arm around his shoulder. “And Julie would want you to be living, you know what I mean?”

“We don’t expect you to be ok,” Alex broke in quickly. “Just for you to be honest about what’s going on with you. You’ve been there for us the past few days now it’s your turn.”

“I’m fine,” Luke tried one last time, though his argument sounded half-hearted even to his own ears.

“You haven’t showered in a week,” Bobby pointed out, the softness behind his eyes easing the harshness of his words as Luke forced himself to look up and meet his friend’s eyes. “Come on, rinse the smell off and then we’re taking a field trip.”

Luke groaned but forced himself to stand and cross the distance to the bathroom, his bones aching like he had spent years in bed, not hours. He hardly remembered the shower but when he reemerged some indeterminate amount of time later his hair was dripping and he admittedly smelled a lot better. He still felt a bit like he was walking through a heavy fog though, like some slight, almost undetectable force was making each one of his steps just that little bit more difficult. He thought it might not be the weight of something slowing him down at all but the absence of something. It was like he had forgotten how to do everything right without Julie next to him. Walking and eating and breathing. He knew he had done them all before he ever knew her but that didn’t make them come any more naturally now that she was gone.

Still.

He had promised her he would try.

So he let his friends steer him out of the garage, let them lead him down the sidewalk, Alex and Bobby buffeting him on either side and Reggie walking in front, chattering away and peering back every few seconds as though afraid Luke would bolt if he didn’t keep him in his sight. Luke for his part just shuffled along, grunting out a response when asked a direct question and keeping silent the rest of the time. Apparently the plan was to head to Reggie’s house. His mom would be at work and she had bought him this brand new video game console called a Playstation that the boys were all dying to try out. That newly separated parent guilt was apparently good for a few things, like letting Reggie have ice cream every night and expensive gifts. Luke was pretty sure that none of them were particularly in the mood to play video games and were putting on the enthusiasm for his sake. He appreciated it. He just couldn’t match it.

But once they were actually in Reggie’s room, crowded around the little television he got for his last birthday, Luke had to admit he did feel a little more like a human being. He even caught himself laughing as he watched Alex and Reggie squabble over the second controller as Bobby clutched his above the fray. Reggie grinned when he saw Luke’s brief smile and shoved the controller they had been fighting over into his hands.

“Here, you try!”

And he couldn’t stand to see Reggie disappointed, not when he had seen him so hurt so recently. So Luke did try. And he let himself enjoy it. And he let himself tune out and pretend that there wasn’t someone missing.

He did such a good job at pretending that it wasn’t until they had left Reggie’s house several hours later in order to keep his mom from knowing they had skipped and headed for the ice cream shop that the gaping absence all came crashing back.

Because right around the corner from the ice cream shop was the arcade.

And right inside of the arcade entrance was a claw machine.

And inside of that claw machine he could only assume there was a purple plastic ring that would now never sit on his girl’s finger.

He couldn’t explain why his feet carried him towards the arcade but they did, seemingly without any specific direction from him.

“Luke....” Alex’s worried voice called after him but he didn’t pause until he was standing directly in front of the damn game that had been haunting him for months.

And there it was. The ring. Mocking him from the exact spot it had been in all along.

Apparently his friends had caught up to him by then because when Reggie spoke up it was from directly behind him.

“You’ve got to let that thing go, man,” His friend said carefully. “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Luke found himself understanding Reggie’s initial reaction to the news about Julie’s departure because all of the sudden he was angry. He wasn’t just angry, he was furious.

He brought his fists down in tandem on either side of the joystick, feeling the reverberation up his recently healed arm and had just enough time to wonder if that was the smartest idea before words were bursting out of him unbidden.

“It matters,” He said fiercely, ignoring the way Reggie flinched slightly. “It matters. She matters. She matters to me and she’s gone and I said I would give her that ring and I didn’t and now I can’t and...and...it just matters, ok? It just does.”

Alex and Reggie both stared at him, eyes wide with worry seemingly unable to land on something helpful to say as they watched him finally implode. The silence stretched and Luke was just about to kick the machine just to have something to fill the gap and give him another chance to externalize the storm brewing inside of him when Bobby stepped forward calmly.

“Here,” He said, his voice calm and even. “Go ahead.”

He held out his hand and Luke instinctively stuck his out to catch whatever Bobby was trying to hand him. He folded his fingers over the mystery object to keep it from falling to the ground, before uncurling them carefully to examine it.

It was a quarter.

Luke looked up sharply expecting to see sympathy or something worse on Bobby’s face but all he saw was that look his best friend gave him when they were disagreeing on a song or when they couldn’t agree on what toppings to order for their pizza. Or maybe more like when Luke had wanted to use those fireworks for pyrotechnics or when he had suggested a book club as a viable gig. Like he didn’t approve of what Luke was doing but also like he was going to be right there behind him, letting him know he was an idiot and then helping him anyway.

Somehow it was exactly what Luke needed.

So he didn’t say anything else, just swung to face the machine and deposited his quarter in the slot before he could think better of it.

The game came to life as he swung the joystick jerkily to the right, not letting himself think too hard about the exact aim as the claw hovered over the ring in it’s plastic container. He slammed his hand down on the button to drop it probably harder than was strictly necessary but it felt good to have an excuse to hit something. The claw dropped and clutched it’s mechanical arms around the plastic container. Luke tried not to react, afterall he had gotten this far many times before, but the weak arms always released the ring long before it could actually make it to the prize shoot. But even as that hopeless thought crossed his mind the claw was rising, taking the ring with it and this time it didn’t drop back to its former spot. This time the ring remained locked in the claw’s embrace until it tumbled down into the prize shoot leaving all four boys to stare at the machine in surprise.

“Did that just…” Alex started.

“You did it,” Reggie practically whispered, disbelief clear in his voice.

Luke for his part just stared at the claw machine that had once again gone silent and still as he tried to process what had just happened. He had been so angry a minute ago and he could never win the ring and it didn’t matter because Julie was gone...Julie was gone...but it did matter and now he had won the ring and...did he really just win the ring?

Once again it was Bobby who broke them all out of their stupor, stepping forward and reaching through the metal flap to retrieve the ring, pressing the plastic container insistently into Luke’s shaking hands.

“You did it,” He said simply but firmly.

“I did it,” Luke echoed, his voice slightly choked.

“You said you would and you did,” Bobby continued. “It’s ok, Luke. You did it.”

Luke was very aware that Bobby was talking to him like a small child and he wanted to be offended, he really did, only he felt like a small child. Like nothing made sense and all of his emotions were too big for him. He had tried for so long and so hard to win that stupid ring, had seen it as a metaphor for how he felt about Julie, how he would do anything for her, how he wanted her to know that as intrinsically as she knew her own name. He had tried so hard and it had never worked and now she was gone and the very first time he tried, the first time, and he had done it.

Luke felt tears pricking at his eyes and did his best to fight them down.

“Luke…” Reggie started, his own eyes looking suspiciously wet.

Luke couldn’t bear to hear what Reggie was going to say or to make eye contact with any of his friends when he felt on the brink of breaking into sobs. He spun to face the machine again only that didn’t seem to help. His vision went blurry and his throat went tight and the next thing he knew he was breaking down into sobs. He tried to stifle them in a fit of embarrassment but there wasn’t much point. The tsunami had started and all he could do was ride the wave and pray he was in one piece on the other side.

He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the claw machine, the soothing temperature doing little to slow the tears rolling down his face or the hiccuping, painful sounds that were emerging from his mouth. The ache in his chest was almost unbearable but it was matched by the sharp pain in his hand as he clutched so hard at the ring’s plastic container he was sure it would leave an angry red outline when he finally uncurled his fingers.

He loved her.

He loved her so much.

He loved her and he was never going to see her again and he won her the ring and she was never going to know it.

He was so alone.

Only he wasn’t.

Because suddenly there were warm arms wrapping around him from every direction, cheeks pressed against his shoulders and the top of his head, soft words of comfort being spoken in three different voices.

“It’s ok, Luke.”

“Let it out.”

“We’re here.”

And he did.

He had promised Julie they would do their best to be happy. He intended to keep that promise. But today all he felt was pain. And that would have to be ok too.

And it was.

And they were.

Not all at once.

Not for a long time if he was being honest.

But slowly and steadily genuine smiles, and laughter began to work their way back into their lives. They didn’t talk much about Julie at first. It hurt too much. But eventually Reggie brought up a story about her over pizza and soon they were all chiming in, recounting their favorite moments with the girl who would always live in their hearts even if she could no longer live in their world. After that they brought her up often and it hurts but it also heals.

Luke took to wearing the ring around even though it was too small for all of his fingers except his pinkie and often got stuck even then. Bobby didn't comment on the way his finger was starting to turn as purple as the ring itself, simply handed him a black cord one day for him to string it on and brushed off Luke’s rush of thankful words. After that Luke wore the ring on a cord around his neck, dangling down to thump gently against his heart as he walked, the cool plastic a constant reminder of what he lost but what he gained too.

He wasn’t living the life he would have chosen for himself but he was living the life Julie had chosen for him. He hoped the two would come together eventually. He had to have faith that they would.

Eventually he sat down to write a song for her and ended up with a poem instead.

Eventually he had the idea of sending her a message through time, a box filled with all of the things she had loved and left behind, all the ones that would fit in a small box anyway. Eventually he pried the teddy bear version of himself out of Reggie’s reluctant fingers to go inside. Eventually placed all of their carefully selected polaroids inside too.

And eventually he slid  a purple ring off of the cord he wore it on, placed it carefully back into its original container and left it for her to find with a lingering kiss pressed to its surface.

Eventually.

But first.

He lived.

Tag list: @futurearchaeologyprof @moreflowersthanweeds @chickwiththepurpleguitar

[script-nef]

Presents (and other things)

Category: fluff

2k words; Shopping date [3/6]

← Previous chapter | Masterlist

Out of everyone in the whole world, the person you love most in the world is Nanami Kento, your brother. He was the one who saved you from the cursed spirit that haunted you and took your parents’ lives. He was the one who took you in so that you wouldn’t be put in the system since you were still a minor. He made sure every day that you were safe and healthy even if he was injured or exhausted after a fight.

That's why in the weeks nearing his birthday, you made sure that he would have a relaxing time. He said you didn’t have to and he’d rather have you not fret over him, but that is unacceptable. He needs to have a good birthday. If you could, you would make the whole month just about him. But the last time you tried that he sat you down for a long, scolding lecture about how it’s unnecessary. So that’s out of the option.

Right now, just a few days shy of his actual birthday, you have a problem. Because you were buried in work and have a terrible memory.

His present.

You forgot to buy a present. 

“I forgot to buy a present! Why am I so dumb… Why am I like this, Gojou? It’s literally one of the most important things with birthdays and I forgot it. Because I’m an idiot. I wish the ground would swallow me up… I deserve it…” Thuds reverberate through the room as your head makes contact with the table. Repeatedly. Hard.

Wallowing in self-hate is great but your brain starts spitting out all viable present options. 

Shopping for Ken-chan is hard because he’s not materialistic in the least. He also doesn’t have a lot of hobbies. “I don’t need presents.” is a regular phrase every time his birthday or holidays come up, but then he gives presents to you and you end up feeling worse. This is all while your brain is getting thrown around. 

A hand comes between your forehead and the desk, gently bringing it up. Gojou has a small pout as his cold fingers try to soothe the burning sensation. 

“You still have a couple of days left! Don’t bang your head against the table, your brain doesn’t work enough as it is.” He easily moves out away from your slap. But returns in time to stop your head from falling again.

“I should have remembered this weeks ago. There’s no use trying to make me feel better, Gojou. I’m a terrible sister. I deserve this pain.” His fingers poke against your cheeks and he smooshes and stretches them. It’s uncomfortable but you let him.

“I haven’t bought a present either.”

“You’ve never given him a present.”

“This is the year to start! I have to get on his good side!” That’s weird since he never cared about what Ken-chan thought of him.

 “Why?”

“We can shop together!” Classic ignoring. His face comes to level with yours. “Let’s go to Shinjuku, I’m sure there are things even Nanami will like. Also, I found a new sweets shop.” You stare at him. “But I will focus on the present for today! C’mon, I can fly us there. You’ve never flown before, right? I think it’ll help.”

For some inexplicable reason, floating in mid-air with nothing to save you other than Gojou is amazing. Adrenaline pumps through your veins at the thought of crashing down to Earth if Gojou lets go. You know he won’t though. 

The air is chilly up here and there’s constant wind makes your hair whip everywhere, getting in your mouth and eyes. It doesn’t dampen your mood.

Your arms tighten around Gojou’s neck, watching the city blink with life way underneath your feet. Well, his feet, since you’re bunched up in his embrace. 

“This is so cool! Do you do this every day?”

“Yup.” He pops the p and slowly walks closer to your destination. The world looks like a child’s playhouse. 

“No wonder you’re constantly in an amazing mood! I would do this every time I’m feeling down!” Gojou’s chuckle reverberates through his chest and into your body. 

“I can take you out again when you’re sad.” A buzz takes over your body at the thought sparkles come to life in your wide eyes.

“You would do that for me?” Gojou is an incredibly important asset and therefore also very busy, needing to take care of special-grade curses that others can’t while also teaching and looking after his three students. He couldn’t be at your beck and call, you can’t ask that from him. But the gentle smile he gives is so warm and sure, assuring you that his words are true.

“Of course I would. Any day.” His grip around your body tightens.

Something weird fuzzes in your chest. It’s not uncomfortable or bad but… unique. And foreign. You got a good report back from your physical evaluation last month so it’s not something physical. Questions about what the cause could be takes over your mind but the sudden sensation of zero gravity makes all of them fly out the window. Burying your face into Gojou’s neck, you prepare for the worst.

“And we have arrived! M’lady.” Chipper as ever, Gojou’s feet touch the ground with a light plop and he lets you down gently. You look at him in confusion until realisation kicks in. And you kick him.

“Don’t do that! I think my heart stopped!” He cackles at that, finishing with a “Won’t do it next time.” If there is a next time. The probability is reduced significantly because of what he just did. 

Taking your hand in his, he escorts you down the stairs from the rooftop and into a department store. The people who couldn’t see mere moments ago high up in the sky.

As expected, it’s loud and crowded. There are hundreds, maybe thousands of people shuffling about and sweeping everyone to move even if they wanted to. It’s fortunate that Gojou has a firm grip on your hand because otherwise you’d be completely lost. Still, it’s nice to be buried in the commotion of everyday lives. It helps you forget about the whole war that’s looming over everyone.

“Any ideas on what to get?” The question you’ve been asking yourself for the past hour or so is echoed by Gojou. “We have all the time in the world, so don’t worry. I’ll keep you company for as long as you want.” 

Blisters form on the back of your feet thanks to the amount of times you walked around the huge place. Gojou bought you bandaids even though you said Shouko can fix you up. It hurts a lot less thanks to that. Finding a present is still a challenge. Every time you think you have one, your brain comes up with a rebuttal for why Ken-chan won’t like it. Two hours and nothing to show for it, you’re on the verge of collapse. Even a quick snack break didn’t help.

Gojou sets you down on a bench, letting your head roll on the backrest. The sight of thousands of coats and jackets running around upside down makes you giggle. Maybe the stress is finally getting to your head. The mantra of “I’m a terrible sister” tries to sneak in and wreak havoc. You’re just about to let it when the upside-down brand of a designer clothing shop catches your attention. 

“Gojou.”

“Yup?” His head comes into view as he copies your posture. It must look really weird to passersby but you don’t care at all. “Got an idea?” You point to the brand. Or at least you think you do. The lack of blood in your brain is making everything dizzy. “Clothes?”

“I wanna buy him a good suit.” Standing up, swaying a little from the sudden oxygen influx, you try to drag him towards the shop. He tries to make your attempt harder by using his weight and height, but a firm glare makes him concede.

“I thought he said he doesn’t want suits.” Oh yeah, you told him that when it was rejected. Ken-chan did say that, years ago, when you bought him one for your first present. While incredibly appreciated, he reasoned that there is a high chance of it being ruined since he has to fight in them. And this was around the time when you started getting paid. It was his way of saying that you should invest it in something more durable and preferably for yourself. How does Gojou remember this when it was just a fleeting complaint that you barely remember?

“He said it’s because there’s no point in spending so much money on something that might be damaged so quickly. But I’m going to buy it for a different reason.”

Collections of suits, varied by colour and pattern, line the huge shop. Skimming over a lot of them, especially ones with questionable designs, you turn to the monochromatic area. Simple is best when it comes to Ken-chan’s taste. Shuffling through the shades, you contemplate between either beige or blue.

“What’s the reason?” Gojou’s voice calls from the change room. You wonder when he got there. 

“For him to wear it if he goes back to work in an office after the war has ended. Or just when he goes out, without the worry of getting attacked and ruined. It’ll be like a promise! That he’ll do his best to survive the war to wear it.” 

Gojou is silent in response. It drags out and now you’re sort of embarrassed about what you said. Your partner loves taking advantage of others’ sappy moments, teasing them mercilessly over it. That little speech is basically perfect ammunition against you. You expect his high voice to make fun of you.

What you don’t expect is for him to pat your head, slowly and softly, like he won’t ever get to do it again.

“Nanami must have used all his luck when he became your guardian.” Voice low, bringing shivers down your body, he cards his fingers through your hair. Like he’s combing them. Seconds tick by and it feels sort of nice, telling you to relax, but your body’s on high alert for some reason.

“I think he’d like the blue one. Since he already has a brown suit, beige is too close.” A black suit adorns his body when he comes into view. Even the shirt is black. It fits him perfectly and he looks really good in it, courtesy of a good body proportion. He could possibly pull off the hideous suits you elected to shy away from at the front of the display. You clear your throat.

“Wow, you look really good in that.” His hands smooth down the creases on the jacket, preening at your compliment. “You should buy that. Wear it to dates or whatever. Ladies will fall to your feet if you show up with that.” Holding up two blue suits, your eyes scrutinize them and you try to imagine which shade will look better on your brother.

“Ladies will fall to my feet? Really?” Amusement tinges his words. The left one looks better.

“Yeah, probably. Girls love guys in suits. Well at least, I do. If they wear the right one for them, it’s really hot. Left one is better, right?” He gives a nod, a wide grin playing on his face. “Alright, this one then. Are you buying the suit?”

“Yeah. I think it’ll be put to good use.”

The checkout is quick, and it’s night when you step out. 

“You wanna go back by flying? We can try doing the Howl thing.” That’s really tempting, being able to reenact one of the most iconic scenes in the movie. But not today. 

“No, I prefer being in your arms.” Gojou stares at you with such intensity that you can feel it even with the blindfold. Then he immediately barks out a laugh, one so loud that people nearby flinch at the sudden noise. You flinch at the sudden noise.

“Ah… You really keep me on my toes, you know.” Before you can ask what that means, he takes your hand again and starts walking to the stairs. His steps are faster than usual.

Next chapter →

[jaminjims]

「SAFE PLACE」

anon request: Hello! Can you do an ot7, the reader is a female 8th member prompt 38 and 92 together thank you so much! Can't wait for more uploads from you.

prompts: “whatever you do, don’t make a sound” and “breathe with me, yeah? come on. breathe. you got it - there you go”

pairing: bts ot7 x f!reader

genre: suspense, angst, hang in there, it gets fluffy at the end

warnings: (oof y’all i made this one pretty serious) guns, gunshots, saseangs, panic attacks, gunshot wound (but only a graze, nothing life threatening)

words: 2.9k

~**~

You sighed as you stretched your arms above your head. Today’s dance practice was a good one and you felt satisfied with the progress you and the boys made on the choreo.

Hoseok handed you a water bottle as Jungkook handed you a towel so you could dry off your sweaty face. You all laughed when Kook threw a towel at Jin’s head instead of handing it to him. The two started chasing each other around while you picked up your small bag that was by the door.

“Where you going y/n-ah?” Jimin questioned when he saw you making your way to the door.

“Bathroom.”

Tae jumped up and opened the door for you, “Don’t get lost, M’lady.”

You hit him lightly on the shoulder, “Haha. I’ll be back in a few, don’t die while I’m gone.”

“Yah, like anyone could even touch this face.” Jin bantered back.

You just laughed and left for the bathroom, not knowing how your words would soon turn into a possibility in the near future.

~~

You washed your face to clean it up just a little bit more. As you dried off and stretched a little bit more to loosen up your muscles, the lights suddenly went off.

You looked confusedly at the lights before going to the lightswitch and turning it on, except when you did, nothing happened. You flipped it a few more times before you assumed the lights in the bathroom must have been blown or something.

You were making your way out of the bathroom to tell a staff member about fixing the lights, but when you opened the door you realized that it just wasn’t the bathroom lights that went out, it was the whole floor.

Since the floor with the dance practice rooms and music booths were relatively high up in the building, not many people visited it except the idols themselves and a few personnel. You usually liked the peacefulness the quiet brought, but as you looked into the eerily quiet and dark hallways, you couldn’t help the subtle pick up of your heartbeat.

You left the bathroom door close softly behind you - the need to be silent making it into your head for some reason. You only made it a few steps away from the bathroom before there was suddenly shouting coming from the elevators a few halls down. Your eyes widened a little with panic as you struggled to realize what was happening.

You stood still in the hallway, trying to figure out what on earth was going on when you felt the sudden white hot pain in your right arm before you heard the immediate gunshot that came after.

You shouted out in pain and panic as you heard another one. You other hand went up to hold the apparent gunshot wound you had gotten as your brain struggled to understand what the hell just happened. You had just gotten shot at! In the BigHit building!

Your breath picked up as your mouth suddenly went very dry. Each breath burned your throat as you got up from the floor.

Before you could get up all the way to find a safer place, you were suddenly yanked back down to the ground. You screamed out but there was a hand over your mouth. Tears immediately gathered in your eyes as you thought the worst as you were dragged back toward the bathrooms. You struggled in the captors hold, trying to break free.

As you and the mystery person got into the confines of the dark bathroom, you were sobbing by now and breathing so fast you almost choked a couple times. The person let you go and you back away from them frantically.

“Shit.” The girl? whispered under her breath. She lit a tiny flashlight and lit up the tiny pitch black bathroom. You looked up in panic and freight, but the face that greeted you made you halt all movement.

“J-Jeongyeon-unnie?” Your brain couldn’t keep up with what was happening around you and you were confused as you saw one of your best friends and bodyguards squatting down in front of you.

You were still crying and breathing fast when you felt her hands gently cradle your head, “Y/n, look at me.”

You did as she said but you were still crying loudly. Jeongyeon cursed again and looked at the bathroom door before looking back at you. “You need to calm down y/n-ah. You need to listen to me and listen carefully, can you do that?”

You tried your best to calm down your crying as you nodded your head that was tearstained, still held gently in her hands. “There has been a major breach in security and there have been a group of saesangs that have made their way into the building. Y/n, they are armed and extremely dangerous, so you need to do exactly as I say.”

At that you almost let out another sob, but you stopped yourself and just nodded frantically again. “Good. You need to go into a stall and lock the door. Stand up on the toilet so your feet can’t be seen from the bottom. Whatever you do, don’t make a sound.” Jeongyeon whipped some of the tears that were still trailing down your face and pulled you in for a hug.

You clutched on to her and struggled to keep your cries at bay and be silent like she told you too. You were terrified and confused and already exhausted, but the adrenaline running through your system still kept you wide awake and alert.

You pulled away and Jeongyeon gasped as she looked at your arm. “You didn’t tell me you were hurt.” She whisper shouted.

To be honest, you completely forgot about your wound, and with all the adreniline pumping through you, you could barely feel it. But looking at the bullet wound, the pain was brought back ten fold and you would have screamed out again if it didn’t feel like all the air was knocked out of you.

Your breathing that had calmed down a little since Jeongyeon-unnie’s arrival started to pick up again. Before you could start hyperventilating though, Jeongyeon took your arm gently and pushed your bloody sleeve up to inspect the wound.

She sighed a little in relief, “It’s just a small bullet graze, nothing too serious I think. But we need to wrap your arm.” She looked down at her white tee shirt and ripped the edge off and tied it around your wounded upper arm.

You tried to be as quiet as you could as she helped you, but once she stood back up and started walking toward the bathroom door, you jumped up after her.

You were slightly dizzy but shook the feeling off, “Unnie, where are you going?!” You whisper shouted.

“I have to check on the other staff and help detain the intruders Y/n.”

“Ani, I won’t let you go out there.” Your hands where shaking as you held hers.

She sighed again and led you to the furthest bathroom stall. She pushed you up onto the toilet and held your shoulders. “I need to check on everyone else, Y/n. I need to make sure the intruders don’t hurt you, or anyone. It’s my job.”

You started crying again and shook your head frantically. You were about to open your mouth in protest before she beat you to it. “Please, let me protect you. I wouldn’t be able to bare it if something happened to you.”

You gripped her shoulders in return and she pulled you into a tight hug. You hugged her back with just as much ferocity and cried silently into her shoulder. After a few seconds she pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“Stay safe.”

You could do nothing as you watched her leave the bathroom stall and softly close the bathroom door behind her. You carefully made your why off the toilet and locked the stall door.

The small backpack on your shoulder hit the toilet paper dispenser with a clang and you jumped. Your arm throbbed and you made your way back on to the toilet. A couple of silent minutes went by before a sudden thought struck you.

You weren’t the only one on this floor, your boys were here too. Your family was also here on this floor with several armed shooters and that fact alone almost had you passing out on the spot.

With your veins surging with new adrenaline, you scrambled to get your backpack from off of your shoulder and search the front pocket for your phone. You opened it with shaky hands and opened your contacts. You immediately dialed the first number you saw.

Jin’s contact name showed up and you put the phone to your ear as you bit on your thumb nail. After several rings the phone went to voicemail and new tears made it down your face as well as a surge of panic.

You dialed the next number which happened to be Taehyungs, but he didn’t pick up either. You tried Kook, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok but they all didn’t pick up the phone.

You immediately started fearing the worst and you were so close to a panic attack you were starting to feel lightheaded. You felt nothing but pain, fear, and exhaustion as you clicked on the last contact, Namjoon’s.

Several rings went by, and just when you thought he also wouldn’t answer, his voice was heard. “Y/n? Y/n, oh my god.”

With tears still streaming down your face, you whispered into the phone, “J-Joonie.”

It also sounded like he might have been crying or was about to when he whispered, “Where are you?”

You choked on a silent sob and sniffed in, moving the hair that stuck to your face out of the way, “I-I’m still in the bathroom. Joonie, please t-tell me everyone is ok.”

“Shit,” he sounded stressed and afraid, “yeah everyone is ok. Baby, stay where you are, don’t move and stay out of sight, ok?”

You nodded frantically over the phone even when he couldn’t see you. Your breathing calmed down just a little bit at knowing that they were all ok.

“I’m so scared, Namjoon.”

“I know, jagi. Just stay calm ok? We are all ok and we will get out of this soon.”

You didn’t say anything back but the two of you stayed on the phone for a few more minutes before the call suddenly dropped. You panicked when you realized that your phone had just run out of batteries. Perfect timing.

You leaned your head back against the cold tile of the bathroom wall behind you as your legs started to cramp up with your squatting position on the toilet. You covered your mouth to stifle the sobs that wanted to come out.

How is this happening? Why is it happening? You were feeling very overwhelmed and you didn’t know what to do.

Hours, or maybe it was minutes - you couldn’t tell with the darkness surrounding you like it did - went by and your legs were now feeling numb. The adrenaline had worn off and you were left feeling the full force of pain from wound on your arm.

Even though it was only a graze it hurt like hell and felt like your arm was about to explode. The fear you felt was doing nothing to help and you just wanted it all to be over.

Suddenly and without warning, the bathroom door was kicked open and just like that, the adrenaline was back running through you as the fear of what just happened almost made you fall and collapse off the toilet seat.

Your eyes widened with terror as you covered your mouth with both hands, trying to be as quiet as you could.

You saw footsteps slowly walk toward the stalls and open them on by one, and your breathing picked up exponentially when the person stopped in front of the last stall and tried to push it open. When they saw it was locked, a harsh pull was all it took for the door to give and it flew open.

In your desperation and terror, you threw your bag at them and pushed them out of the way as you ran out of the stall. Before you could get very far though, you felt arms circle you from behind and you screamed, flailing out to get out of your captors grip.

You were in full on panic mode and only saw grey as you heard more footsteps make their way inside the bathroom. You were hyperventilating and could barely breathe because you were going to die here and this is it and you didn’t even say by to your family or the ones you loved most-

Your head was taken in a soft grip much like with Jeongyeon Unnie and made you look at them. You had a hard time recognizing the face and you didn’t stop trying to escape. You think your hand made contact with something but you weren’t sure as you still struggled.

Your head was gripped a little tighter as you were forced to face whoever was holding it. “Y/n. I am Min Yoongi and I will not hurt you. You are safe with me. The boy holding you is Jung Hoseok. You know us, remember? Come back to us, follow my warmth.”

Your head cleared just a little bit at hearing his voice and feeling his hands. You stopped struggling and met Yoongi’s eyes. “Y-yoongi?”

You cracked out his name and his heart broke for your state. “Yes baby. Breathe with me, yeah? Come on. Breathe. You got it - there you go.”

As you calmed down more and more and could take in the situation around you, you realized that Hobi, Yoongi, and the rest of the boys were surrounding you in the small bathroom, looking scared, worried, and tired themselves.

You launched forward and captured Yoongi in the tightest hug you had possibly ever given someone and started sobbing without restraint. He rubbed your back as someone carded their hand through your hair. You think you hear Jungkook or Jimin cry with you but you aren’t sure.

After what seemed like hours but was probably minutes, you calmed down and were just sniffinling as the adrenaline of what the hell just happened wore off for, hopefully, the last time. You looked at all the faces of the boys around you and closed your eyes with relief, “I’m so happy you’re safe.” It came out a broken whisper but they heard it anyway.

All of you slowly made your way out of the bathroom, holding on to each other; feeling as though if you let go something bad was going to happen again. You had at least three pairs of hands on you at one time because, well, you were the one they were worried about the most.

Jeongyeon pushed her way through the staff and medical personnel that made their way to this floor after realizing that the group was there. You almost started crying again as she pulled you into a hug, “Unnie, I’m so glad you’re ok.”

She pulled back and inspected your face. She too looked extremely tired but relief washed over her when she realized that you had gotten no more injuries.

“Same here, Y/n-ah. How about we go and get your arm cleaned up?”

At that the boys all had confused looks on their faces, “What happened to your arm?” Taehyung questioned.

Jimin gently pulled your right arm up and realized that it was bleeding. He gasped, “Why didn’t you tell us you got hurt!?”

You shrugged as it throbbed, “Sorry.”

“Aish, this kid.” Jin sighed and pulled a hand down his face. “Come on, we need to have it checked out, jagi.”

As the boys plus Jeongyeon crowded around the medical worker who had arrived, you had your arm gently tended to.

“It isn’t deep at all, and it’ll heal within the next few weeks. It might leave a scar though.” She said as she finished wrapping gauze and bandage around it.

The eight surrounding you sighed in relief at the news. It wasn’t serious and that’s the best they hoped for.

After you all made your statements to the police, you were instructed to go outside so they could do a deep cleanse of the building to make sure there were no more threats and no one else was injured. There was a big crowd outside of the BigHit building and you did not have the energy to deal with your fans, as much as you loved them. The others seemed to feel the same, and were quick to follow Jeongyeon past ARMY and into a van so you could all go home.

It was later, after you all were settled at the dorm that you realized Jin had a bruise on his face. “Yah, what happened?” Namjoon questioned.

Jin looked a little worried as he briefly looked over at you. You gasped in realization and jumped up from where you were snuggling beside Kook. “Did I do that?”

Jin chuckled a little, “I guess our princess is the only one who can touch this face.”

You let out a small laugh despite yourself and the others that were sitting on the couch snickered, “Yah, that’s not funny.” You went up and hit him lightly on the shoulder.

Jin started laughing too and Namjoon just sighed with a smile on his face. At the end of the day, he was just happy his family was intact and safe.

You looked around at all of them and sighed good-naturedly. “Aish, I love you guys.”

[end]

~**~

end note: y’all 👁👄👁 i don’t think i’ve ever written anything like,, so serious before. imo it feels rushed and idk something feels off but i tried my best anonie! i had no intentions of writing it like this but apparently i did anyway so here we are. anywho, thank you so much for the request! i hope you liked it and it wasn’t to much angst lovelys 💖

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[obae-me]

A Taste of His Own Medicine- Asmo

Word Count: 3012

Medication Warning: These stories might contain strange demon medicines, but always make sure that you take the regulated dose. Don’t think like Asmo! Taking more will not make you feel any better. Keep the dangers in the fictional world, and as always, read with safety, thank you! 

Time as Levi’s nurse passed fairly quickly. After two days of constant attention, most of the symptoms had faded. He was still weaker than anyone would enjoy, but he was back in front of his screens in no time. Although, every so often he’d give you a side glance and rattle his body with a loud cough, causing you to roll your eyes a bit but smile and give him some more attention. Aside from the pseudo-symptoms, at last, it was all over. Surely, tonight you’d finally let your sore exhausted body get some rest with the relief in knowing that whatever demon illness had been plaguing the brothers was finally gone…

That was, until everyone in the House of Lamentation was awoken one night to a blood-curdling scream. You awoke in a sweat, nerves standing up on end. Before you could comprehend anything, you dashed out to the hallway, apparently the last to join the stunned members of the household. Mammon was still attempting to find balance on his feet, cursing about one of his legs being asleep. Levi rubbed his eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He was supposed to be regaining his strength. Satan looked more intrigued than anything. Beel was ready for action, but, surprisingly enough, Belphie looked more awake than anyone before you. These were his hours, you supposed. Lucifer was a strange combination of furious due to having his rest be interrupted--he barely gets enough as it is--and concerned. 

“MC!--Oh, thank the stars,” he sighed, pressing his hand to his forehead, thankful you weren’t the cause of the haunting wail. “We’ve got…” His irises almost went cross-eyed for a moment as he started calling out everyone’s names. The realization hit you at the same moment it hit him. “Asmo.” No one hesitated in dashing to his room, the adrenaline pumping in you more as the sound of shattering glass and splintering wood reached your ears. Worry clamped your lungs shut, not daring to breathe until you arrived at your location. 

Mammon was the first to reach the door, immediately kicking the wood in. The entrance hit the floor with a loud bang, and you attempted to peer in, but were abruptly yanked backwards by Lucifer. Just in time too, for just at that moment, an entire dresser launched itself from the bedroom, smacking against Mammon, pinning him against the back wall of the hallway. Everything in you screamed to run to him, but the demon of pride had you held tightly against his body. Mammon got up off the floor, shaking his head, but not visibly injured, barely even bothered, just frustrated. 

“For the love of sin, Asmo!” He growled, and another shriek echoed through the halls, shaking the windows. You brought your hands up to cover your ears, and Lucifer quickly handed you off to Levi.  

“What’s happening?” The strength of your legs began to waver, and, for a split second, the eldest’s eyes grew wide at your distress. Of course you wouldn’t know, how could you? Sometimes he forgets you’re only a human. 

Placing a gentle hand on your head--his best attempt at assurance--he let out another sleep-deprived groan, pinching the bridge of his nose whilst his siblings dashed into the chaos. “It’s what we all feared. Asmo has fallen ill. It happens one every few centuries. Stay with Levi. We’ll work on calming him down.” With that, he turned and swiftly joined the fray. A swirl of blue magic surrounded the door, lifting it from it’s position, settling back against the frame while shouts and bangs rattled the ground. All you could do was blink in frightful awe and flinch at every awful sound. 

“C-come on, it’s best if we go...N-now, like, right now,” Levi breathed, his voice shaking with terror. You raised an eyebrow, trying to piece together why he sounded as if he was in danger.

You didn’t have the time to question why. The wall separating the room from the hallway nearly crumbled, bricks and rubble coating the floor. Peachy eyes glowed harshly against the dark of night. “Levi…” The figure growled maliciously as the dust settled. “You did this to me...you all did this to me!” It struck you who it was and why even Levi himself was nearly petrified with fear. Of course you didn’t know, why would you? Sometimes you forgot you were surrounded by demons. 

“Oi!” 

In a swirl of motion, demons rushed to tackle him down, but not before the person behind the destruction began to lunge in yours and Levi’s direction. The third-born twisted his body, beginning to pull you behind him to shield you, but your body moved almost on its own. Tugging yourself out of his grip, you moved forward with an outstretched arm. “Asmo!” The palm of your hand came into contact with his chest, and as soon as it did, everything seemed to stop all at once. The rampage put itself at pause as Asmo looked at you with wide eyes, his hands still raised, claws nearly brushing against your skin. With your hand on his chest, you could tell that he’d stopped breathing. You took this moment to observe his face. Nose red, eyes puffy from angry tears, overall looking drained, missing vibrancy, much different than the Asmo you were so acquainted with. 

The demon of lust took one last moment to recollect his thoughts, gathering back his composure before giving a loud horrified gasp of a breath before his knees gave out, his body collapsing to the floor. 

* * *

“Absolutely, positively, one of the worst decisions you’ve ever made!” You’d beg to differ, but now was definitely not the time for that. “Did you even think?!” You tried to open your mouth but were cut short. “Don’t answer that.” Lucifer looked beyond frazzled, and as you watched him pace back and forth in front of you, you wondered if those were new grey strands in the fringes of his hair or if it was simply your imagination. He’d been stepping back and forth for so long, you’d almost gotten dizzy from the motion. 

But Lucifer wasn’t the only one here to...critique your...survival response--or questionable lack thereof. “What do you do when you see an angry demon? Hm?” Satan’s eyebrow was twitching, but he was doing his utmost best to stay calm unlike his older brothers. 

You lowered your head. “You run.” 

“What do we not do?” 

“...Confront them.” The blonde nodded, leaving it at that for the time being. With a quick scan around the room, he tilted his head and sat in a chair, biting back one of his usual retorts. Typically, he wouldn’t hesitate to be snippy, especially considering his sibling’s current behaviors, but he didn’t have the heart for it. Not right now when he was focusing hard on suppressing the bubbling rage of what he’d just observed. Levi was a dazed mess, sulking at his failed job as a bodyguard, slung over Beel’s shoulder, muttering endlessly. The demon of gluttony himself had yet to peel his sight from you since you’d been dragged back to your room. Had he even blinked? It was as if he was wary that, should he look away, even for a moment, you’d do something reckless again. To be fair, logically, what you’d done had been a rather idiotic move. In your defense, it was also dipping well past the early hours of the morning, they couldn’t hold it against you for not being at your peak at this time...But, they were right. Had Asmo not been able to stop himself, who knows what the outcome would’ve been. You still weren’t quite sure of everything that had happened, but something had moved you, convinced you that if you just...reached out to him...Turning your head to the side, you brushed your hand over the bump in the blankets where his arm was. As soon as he’d collapsed, both you and Asmo were briskly brought to your room. You’d been able to assist in tucking him under your covers for only a moment before being scolded. Belphie placed a fresh cold rag over Asmo’s forehead, meeting your eyes for just a second before snapping his head to look away from you with the slightest hint of a disappointed pout in his lips. Even the self-proclaimed apathetic demon of sloth was upset? And Mammon...Mammon was...dead silent, still as a stone, back turned to you as he pressed his face against the wall. If anything, that upset you the most. 

Speaking loudly as to regain their attention, you apologized. “I’m sorry! I know it was dumb of me, but…” Asmo’s eyebrows scrunched, a painful moan rumbling in his throat. You adjusted your seated spot on the bed, sitting closer to his body, settled by his thigh. Placing your hand over the comforter covering his chest, you stroked up and down in a slow soothing rhythm. His head moved to find a cooler, more comfortable spot on the pillow, and with the comforting motion against his body, he went still with rest again. “He sounded heartbroken.” 

The room fell silent, Lucifer stopped his pacing. Everyone’s shoulders slumped, and then finally Mammon spoke up. “He’s just being dramatic over his dumb face! Losing control like that...almost hurting you because he doesn’t look pretty...He’s not worth getting yourself killed over!” You shot him a dirty warning look, and he scoffed, rubbing the back of his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. You just gotta be more careful, okay?” 

“Okay, I get it. But you all know I can take care of myself too, right?” None of them would look you in the eyes for that question, and you made a mental note to confront them about that later, but for now… “Enough worrying about me, you should be worried for your brother.” The fire of conflict was quickly snuffed out by your shining eyes and Asmo’s little whimpers. 

Lucifer rolled his head around his shoulders and then rubbed away the little pang behind his temples. “I’ll go let Diavolo know of the situation. I’m sure he won’t be surprised…” He grumbled something under his breath one last time before he left the room, D.D.D. in hand. 

“I suppose I can do my best to help clean Asmo’s room. He might recover quicker in a familiar environment.” Satan got to his feet, stretching, cracking an eye open to look at Mammon before grabbing him by the back of his shirt. “And you’re going to help me.” 

“O-oi! Why me?! Hold on! I haven’t said what I needed to yet!” But his cries were ignored as the demon of wrath dragged him down the hallway. 

Now you were left with the afflicted, the twins, and a still sorrowful Levi. “Beel, can you please take Levi to his room? And Belphie can you please make sure he goes to sleep?” The lighter-haired sibling nodded, shifting his older brother to his other shoulder. Belphie still had his head turned away from you. Your heart fell a bit. “Pretty please?” 

He made the mistake of getting a quick peek of your pleading face. “You have to come with us.” 

“But, we can’t just leave him.” You brushed the back of your hand against Asmo’s cheek, reeling back as the heat from him almost burnt you. 

This only convinced Belphie to squint harder. “He’s dangerous.” 

“You’re all dangerous and yet apparently it doesn’t seem to phase me anymore.” At times like these, you found standing your ground and just being stubborn was enough to win you plenty of debates with these eternal beings. Belphie especially was much too tired to try to win you over. 

“Fine, but you owe me.” 

You beamed, coaxing a touch of pink in his cheeks. “Thank you!” He slinked away, his brother following after him. A frown stretched over your face. With the added noise gone, Asmo’s shallow wheezing breaths were all too apparent. You got to your feet, flipping the rag draped across his head to the other side, then padded over to the cupboard settled against the far side of the room. It opened with a slight squeak, causing you to wince as you glanced back over your shoulder to make sure your patient was still sleeping. Luckily, he didn’t stir, although for this to work, he might have to. You gripped the medicine bottle in your hand, giving it a slight shake. There was enough for perhaps one or two more administrations. Hopefully whatever this was wasn’t too expensive, seeing as how the whole family had gone through the whole thing in a few weeks. Before you dealt with that issue, you quickly went to turn off the overhead light in your room, simply turning on a side lamp, a soft glow illuminating what you needed it to. Your eyes thanked you for the lessened strain. As you turned on the pads of your feet, you noticed Asmo was now on his side, facing away from you. With a few quiet steps, you were back at the bedside. “Asmo?” 

Your fingers outstretched, reaching for his shoulder, but he would not let you near him. “Don’t look at me!” The voice was strong enough to push you back, falling back onto the floor. A high pitched noise caught your attention. The glass in your hand as well as your mirror on the other side of the room had a new thin crack in it. 

The heart in your chest was pounding, but you tried to shake out of it. “Asmo, fighting me is taking up your strength.” Cradling the medicine bottle against your chest, you got back to your feet. 

Asmo pulled the covers up over his head. “Don’t look at me, don’t look at me, don’t look at me!” You’d shifted your stance beforehand to keep your balance, the wave of magic wobbling you, but not knocking you over. The lights flickered, and with it, you caught an idea. 

“What if I turn the lights off? I won’t look at you, okay? I just want to help you feel better.” Keeping your sight on him, you walked backwards. As your hip met the furniture, you swiveled to turn the lamp off. It just so happened to be cloudy tonight, the dark clouds coating the moon, again, much like the night Belphie had sleepwalked into your room. Blanketed in complete darkness, only now you were the one stumbling towards the figure in the bed. You walked forward slowly until your knees came into contact with the mattress. Even here you could feel the rolling waves of heat come off of him. “I cannot see a thing, not even my own hand in front of my face,” you whispered to him, your arm waving in the air till you found his body. He was letting you touch him, that was a good sign. It took a moment before you found his shoulder, gently guiding him to lay on his back. You trailed your touch up to his neck before coming up to lightly touch his face. Hot moisture coated your fingertips. For a second, you thought it was sweat, but then you heard the demon take a shaky inhale as his body hitched. Panic struck your body all the sudden, your thumb brushing just under his eyes. “Are you crying? Asmo, no, no no no, it’s okay.” 

He whimpered, leaning into your touch. “I-I-I-I’m sick and-and-and unsightly--”

“Hey, hey,” you cooed. “Take a deep breath.” He followed your advice, his chest shuddering. “I’m sorry you’re sick...but we can’t change that now. We just have to focus on getting you well again.” Reaching around to support the back of his head, you helped him up into a slouched position. Although, you struggled to find his hand. When you did, his fingers instinctively went to curl around yours. You hated to disappoint him by replacing your grasp with the medicine bottle. “This should help. I’d, uh, take about half of it.” He took it away from you, and you assumed that he’d brought it to his lips. It was a few seconds before the smooth glass touched your skin again. Taking it back in your possession, you discovered it was a lot lighter than you expected. Moving it around in your hand, you felt no liquid slosh inside. “I said half, Asmo!”

“There was hardly anything in there and I need what I can to go back to my beautiful self!” 

“That’s not how--” You sighed, letting the empty bottle settle on the floor. “No one is pretty when they’re sick, but that’s okay. It’s alright to be unsightly sometimes.” The mattress bobbed as Asmo laid back down, getting as close as he could against your body. “But even so, you’re pretty all the same” 

His hand smacked against your knee as he tried to find you, his touch searching for yours. “I can’t be both...am I beautiful or ugly?” He really couldn’t understand what you were trying to say. Maybe one day you’d be able to convey your thoughts properly. 

As soon as you touched his wrist, he slid his fingers up to weave through yours. “You’re always beautiful, Asmo. Always. A little sickness won't stop you. But for now, your beautiful body needs some beauty sleep.” You squeezed his hand. “I’ll be right by your side.” The medicine seemed to already be working, and you pinned it in the back of your mind to tell Lucifer about his mishap later. He curled into a tighter ball, snuggling up against your legs. 

“It’s not...fair,” he whined, voice almost slurring with sleep. “I don’t...deserve this...I wish I was...as beautiful...as you.” Your chest tightened, but you kept your mouth closed. His grip had already slackened, and you could hear the deeper slower breaths as you came to the conclusion that he had fallen back asleep. 

Feel better, Asmo. I’ll be here till you do. 

                 ______________________________________

@cinnamon-bisquit​

[joheunsaram]

To Make A Power Couple - 07 (knj)

Chapter 7: Blanket Forts

THIS IS A REPOST SINCE I LOST ACCESS TO MY OLD ACCOUNT. PLEASE FOLLOW THIS BLOG FOR UPDATES ON THIS SERIES.

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Summary- At the hospital, Namjoon tries to make sense of what transpired as Y/N recovers.

word count- 6k

pairing- idol!namjoon x ceo!reader

rating- R

genre- series, fluff, angst, action, strangers2lovers

warnings- violence, blood, stalker, hospital, extremely fluffy scenes of Joon as a caretaker

a.n- wow i literally wrote this the fastest i’ve written any chapter! i hope you like it. although there is angst there is also a lot of tooth rotting fluff. special s/o to @jungkooksbroski for beta reading this 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

taglist - @beach-bitch-bitch-beach, @sscheherazadee, @rjsmochii , @jinjccns​ , @joyful-jimin @sideblogger @agustdpeach @diamonddia-mond

—

Namjoon held your hand in both of his, his forehead resting upon them, as he waited for you to wake up from surgery, the beep of the heart monitor far too loud and ominous. His hood was on his head as his elbows dug into the ratty blue basketball shorts he had thrown on in a hurry. Even though the doctors had assured him that you were going to be fine, he was still worried. He couldn’t believe that you had gotten hurt at his own house of all places and he felt responsible as he replayed the scene in his head.

You looked so small next to the woman attacking you, it made his blood run cold. She was easily twice your size and the malice her gaze held was frightening. He barely registered her presence, how could she have been in his room the whole time he was home? Why didn’t he put his bags away so he could have caught her before she attacked? Why didn’t he hear someone else was home? He remembered hearing a noise while starting food prep and he assumed it was Moni just messing around. How stupid he had been. He was supposed to be your boyfriend, wasn’t it his responsibility to protect you?

He wasn’t even fast enough to pull her off you. He remembers time slowing down, his arms around the intruder as he tried his best to move her away but she seemed to be on a rampage, stomping on your arm. He remembers the moment her heavy boots almost flattened your arm. It was as if she wore them for the occasion. How did she even get in? He had never been happier to have Jungkook and Jimin around. If it weren’t for their help, he doesn’t even want to imagine how he would have managed. He could still feel the adrenaline in his body, hours later. The guards downstairs had been quick to arrive and he remembers sitting in his underwear trying to wake you up as he watched your arm twisted in an unnatural angle. Your scream still ricocheted through his head and he held your hand tighter, wishing you’d wake up already. The doctor had said it would take a couple of hours but he was on edge.

“But I love you!” the intruder had screamed as she was being dragged off by the guards and Namjoon hated his fame once again. He hated that it affected you, that it hurt you. If he was a nobody, you would’ve never been in this situation. You deserve someone who could hold your hand in public without fear that it might cause a controversy. Someone who you could show off at your events, someone you could travel with, someone who could take you out at normal hours to exhibits and didn’t have to sneak around with at concerts. Someone who screamed his love from rooftops, unlike him who only hid you away.

“Hyung. She’s okay. The doctor said she will be okay.” Jimin spoke softly, his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders as he hugged him back, feeling dizzy. Across from him Jungkook paced in the deluxe private hospital room that their company had reserved for them. The big room had a large bed, couch and television. Its warm wood furnishing and several fake plants were meant to emit a feeling of warmth but regardless of the size or decor, Namjoon felt like he was suffocating.

“She’s in surgery. Surgery. Because of me. Jimin what do I do?” He could feel a lump in his throat as he tried to stay strong. He knew logically that you would be fine, but all he could think was 1%. That’s what the doctor said the chance was of anything going wrong. He knew that millions of people broke their arms and were perfectly fine after a few months but you were his one in a million. The fact that he even met you was so random that he thought it fate. You always managed to do the impossible and in his emotional state that 1% chance was too large. Far too large.

Yoongi had arrived shortly after Jimin messaged the group about the home invasion and he stood next to Jimin and Namjoon, his hand on Namjoon’s shoulder as he tried to force him to drink water. The three men tried to reassure Namjoon in vain as he finally let go of Jimin to sit on the couch, his eyes glued to the door, pulling on the sleeves of his sweater as his leg bounced on its own accord.

After almost two hours he saw the door open as you were brought in on a stretcher, still asleep as the nurses moved you to the bed, checking your vitals. Yoongi had to physically restrain Namjoon from running over to you so the workers could do their job, but as soon as they were gone, he was by your side.

You were okay. Nothing went wrong and it felt like a boulder had been lifted off his shoulders as he all but collapsed, holding your hand, his head gingerly resting on your stomach. The boys bid him goodbye soon after making sure he was okay, giving the two of you privacy but ensuring Namjoon that their phones would be on them in case he needed someone with him. No one was getting sleep tonight.

Before Namjoon could let his negativity flood him further, he felt your hand twitch between his and he sat up, looking at your face intently as you finally opened your eyes looking at him groggily.

“Oh thank fuck!” He exclaimed, standing up without letting go of your hand, instead squeezing it tighter as he looked over at you. Your other arm was in a cast, laying over your stomach, both your eyes bruised and swollen underneath, your nose still red as you looked at him with wide eyes. His heart pained as he looked at the evidence of his failings, but for you he smiled, small and not reaching his eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m sorry. Who are you?” you whispered, your voice hoarse. Namjoon felt his heart race, like it was going to fall out of his chest, panic slowly rising.

“Who…? You don’t know me?”

“Wait… aren’t you famous?” You asked again and he dropped your hand in shock, shaking as he rushed towards the door. Memory loss? That wasn’t a symptom they mentioned. You didn’t have a concussion and it scared him that the doctors missed something, fear making him almost sprint the short the distance.

“What the fuck? Okay. Don’t worry. I’m going to get the doctor!”

Before he could reach the door, he heard you giggle, turning around in disbelief as he heard your next words. “Joon! Stop! I was kidding!”

“You were kidding? You were KIDDING?!” He almost yelled, before checking himself. His mouth hung open for a moment as you watched him walk towards you slowly and standing over you, his brows scrunched into a pained expression on his face. “Red. Red, Y/N. You can’t joke right now, do you know how scared I was?” He whispered, sudden relief turning into exhaustion as he felt his knees almost buckle. He had never felt this overwhelmed before.

“Hey. Joonie, baby. I’m sorry.” You called to him gently, reaching for him, your fingers squeezing reassuringly around his forearm that hung next to you. Hearing him call red made you feel suddenly guilty. Even in your worst fights where you were both screaming at each other, the most either of you had called for was yellow. You had only wanted to lighten his mood, crack a joke to make him smile for real but your post-anaesthesia brain couldn’t come up with anything better.

“You’re sorry?” He looked at you incredulously before his long arms were placed gingerly around your waist as his head reached for the crook of your neck, resting there and he inhaled. You smelt different, like disinfectant and he hated it, feeling his lip quiver as he spoke against your skin in quick, flurried words.. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry, baby. Fuck! Why are you even with me? I literally put your life in danger! You should break up with me! You’re gonna have a gigantic scar and like metal inside you forever! You deserve so much -”

“Oh man! A scar? Who’s gonna marry me now?” You interrupted his rant and tried to make your voice lighter, wanting to ease his worries, assure him that you were back to normal. You looked at your useless right arm, wishing you could hug him but settled for slowly running your fingers through his hair with your left to calm him down.

“I’ll marry you. I’ll do it right now!” He moved his head away from your neck, leaning his weight on his hands that now rested next to you on the bed, looking at you intensely. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears and you felt your heart break. You cupped his face, your thumb stroking his cheek as you tried to comfort him.

“Come here. Lie down.” You winced a little as you scooted to the side despite his protests, making room for him. He reluctantly laid down, his head in the crook of your arm and his feet dangling off the end of the bed. You slowly caressed his shoulder and felt him relax as he nuzzled the side of your chest, his arm draping over your hips carefully. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine. You’re the one that’s hurt.” His voice was small, muffled against you as his thumb traced meaningless patterns against you where it lay.

“Baby you literally asked me to break up with you and marry you in the same breath - you are not fine.” You spoke softly, your hand squeezing his shoulder as he took a shuddering breath. You looked at the dim tv that had the hospital’s menu channel on, displaying the time, 3:21 am. He argued not to worry about him, but you couldn’t help it. He had never looked more exhausted in your presence - even after twelve hours of dance practice on three hours of sleep, he didn’t look this drained. Your fingers moved upwards lightly scraping his scalp, his arm tightening around you, as you spoke. “I love you, you know that right?”

He sniffled, the hospital gown getting damp as he told you about his earlier worries. You hushed him, comforting him with words and coaxing him to sleep. His hand wrapped around the index finger poking out of your cast as he fell asleep after a while, his snores music to your ears. No matter what he believed, you still felt safe with him next to you.

———————————-

You looked at the soft light of dawn as it flows through the window, trying not to move as your arm throbbed in the cast. In the few hours since he fell asleep, Namjoon’s head had moved, now resting on your chest as his arm was draped over your hips, but he looked so peaceful that you dared not wake him up. You barely slept, your pain medication wearing off much too quickly. You had never broken a bone before, and as you thought about how dumb your fifth grade self was for wanting a cast, you wished your boyfriend would wake up at his own accord. You desperately needed to call the nurse for some paracetamol, but you grit your teeth and bore it. You knew you were being stupid and Namjoon would be genuinely pissed if he knew, but looking at his mouth hanging open as he drooled over you made you smile at the endearing picture infront of you.

Unfortunately (or fortunately?), soon a nurse walked in for his morning rounds, waking up a groggy Namjoon who startled, almost falling off the bed, making you hiss as he accidentally held on too hard to your side to keep balance. He stood up, running his hands over his face in order to wake up properly while the nurse did the checkup, providing you with the pain killers you request. Once he leaves, Namjoon moves back to you, putting his arm under your head as this time you nuzzle into his chest. You talked about nothing as the drugs finally took effect, helping you doze off. Namjoon kissed the top of your head as you dropped off mid sentence, a smile on his face because you were alright, but a heaviness in his heart as he looked at the bruises on your face, dark blue and almost black.

———————————-

“Shh… Guys come on. Let her rest!”

Namjoon’s theatrical whisper is the first thing you hear when you wake up again. Your eyes open to your room filled with all your friends. The room had seemed extremely large the last time you were awake but now it seemed tiny. Jiyoung was sitting on the couch typing on her phone with a frown, an Apeach plush on her lap, next to her Siwon was talking animatedly with a tired looking Jungkook munching on some chips. The coffee table in front of them was full of snacks, gifts, and flowers. Seokjin, Yoongi and Jimin were talking about something hushed as they stood near the television, serious looks on their faces. Hoseok was bent over the humidifier in the corner which seemed turned off, messing with the controls and grumbling to himself. Harry sat in the chair next to the bed, talking to Namjoon with Jen standing over him with her hand on his shoulder. Namjoon sat on the bed near your legs, his hand on your calf, and Taehyung sat next to him clinging on his waist. Needless to say, it warmed your heart to see all the people you loved here. Maybe getting injured wasn’t that bad.

You winced as you moved up the bed to get more comfortable and suddenly all the attention was on you, the room turning into a cacophony of “How are you feeling?”s and “Are you okay?”s. Everyone was now crowded around the bed, looking at you with worry, Seokjin even handing you the RJ plush he’d brought along with him stating its healing powers. It was odd to be coddled by such a large group. Overwhelming, but in the best way.

“I’m fine guys. It’s just a broken arm.” You tried to diffuse the worries.

“You should look at your face dude.” Siwon stated, causing Namjoon to sigh, annoyed, and you to ask for a mirror. Oof you looked worse than you felt. By the bruises on your face it was a wonder how your nose wasn’t broken. Sheepishly you tried to explain to the group that it wasn’t that bad, but your friends were not convinced.

Soon the conversation turned from worries about you to who the attacker was in the first place. While you and Namjoon were in the hospital, Jungkook and Jimin had been to the police to give in-depth statements. Turns out Namjoon had a stalker - someone the company and security had been keeping an eye on for months, but who seemed to have fallen off the map 6 weeks ago. Apparently the same one who had caused the dates at the beginning of your relationship to always be under the watchful eye of his security team. No one knows how she had managed to break into the dorms but apparently she had been hiding out in his room for a week, his closet was full of tins of food she had consumed during her stay. It was surreal to hear that someone had been in the house and no one had noticed. It made sense to an extent - no one had been actively living in the dorms for a few weeks, especially not Namjoon so his room was never opened. The boys seemed extra distressed about it, and even thought themselves guilty. Namjoon’s words from last night echoed in your head. He put himself at fault, when really it was this woman’s fault.

No one knew what her plan was when Namjoon returned, and you didn’t want to find out. It might seem odd but you were glad that you were there to protect him in a sense. Apparently seeing you had started such a rage in her that she refused to talk further than the death threats she spewed against you. She was in jail and you hoped she stayed there for a long time.

“The police haven’t taken into account your assault. You should file a report.” Hoseok spoke for the first time, his face hardened. The room seemed in agreement, but you hesitated.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea…” you started, only for Namjoon, who was now seated next to you on the bed with his arm around you, to counter but you continued. “I’m just saying. Police records are public and if someone looks into this person who was charged with stalking Joon the same night as attacking me, they might put two and two together and I don’t want that to reflect on him or any of you guys.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Y/N?” It was Yoongi who spoke, clearly irritated and impatient. “Who cares about that? She attacked you, she deserves to be in jail.” His voice was quiet, but the frustration in his tone was not lost.

���She’s already in jail though… It’s not gonna make a difference.”

“Noona… I know it’s not our decision but you didn’t see yourself when she was attacking you.” Jungkook’s voice wavered as he looked at you with hurt in his eyes. “She deserves to pay for what she did…”

“Guys… I know you want the best for me, but it’s too risky… Even you all being here right now is too risky!” It was time for your voice to waver as you suddenly realized the impact of having all of them in the room. All it took was one shitty quality photo from a nurse’s Samsung to ruin their image. You didn’t know how you’d be able to handle it if you were responsible for their first big scandal.

“Okay. I’m going to stop you right there. This is a private place we always use. This is not a risk.” Seokjin spoke slowly, enunciating each word as if trying to explain the situation to a five year old. He didn’t do it in a condescending manner, more to make you understand. “Please stop worrying about us. Our company has stopped way bigger scandals from surfacing. Namjoon, can you please make her understand?”

Namjoon sighed loudly next to you, his arm tightening around you to pull you closer. It felt comforting, but you still felt slightly cornered. You just couldn’t see the logic in what they were saying. The attacker’s jail time would probably not change much with an assault added, at least you didn’t think so - so why was this a big deal.

“It’s her choice, hyung. I’m not going to force her to press charges if she doesn’t want to.” Namjoon looked steely at his member, before turning to you and softening. “But Y/N, I really do want you to make that decision without thinking of me or the rest of us. Can you do that?”

“No. Sorry. I can’t.” You were adamant and now you were starting to get annoyed. Namjoon was right - it was your choice - and it felt nice to have him on your side, at least partially, through this argument, but it didn’t make sense not to make it an isolated discussion. “You’re part of the situation and I can’t just make the decision without adding you to it. I’m not pressing charges.”

You heard a loud snort from Yoongi. “Why are you being an idiot?” He spoke to which Hoseok vocally agreed, causing you to almost yell your explanation in exasperation, before Harry broke the argument asking everyone to take a break and to lay off you.

There was thick tension in the room and it seemed to have sapped the air out of you. You felt uneasy, like no matter how deeply you inhaled you were breathless. You felt claustrophobic suddenly, squeezing Namjoon’s thigh, trying to control your heartbeat. Namjoon saw the distress on your face, immediately requesting everyone to move outside. It didn’t take them long to leave and somehow that helped you feel calmer.

When the room was empty, Namjoon looked at you. Turning to him, you buried your face in his chest, squishing the white alpaca between you and moving your injured arm on his stomach to hug him, despite the sharp pain that made you hiss. Breathing in his scent, somehow made the stress of last night catch up to and you cried. Namjoon held your head gently to his chest as you tangled your legs in his, wanting to almost disappear into him. You didn’t know why you were suddenly crying, but you couldn’t help it - it was like a dam broke, like you were leaking, your emotions cascading out of you onto Namjoon’s sweater. You couldn’t control your sobs and you wondered how loud you were being.

Namjoon felt his heart break as he held you. He had only seen you cry like this once -  the night he asked you to be his girlfriend - and it pained him that he was partially responsible for your tears today. He didn’t know what to do other than whisper “you’re safe now” repeatedly against your hair as you clung to him clumsily. He shouldn’t have let everyone visit so soon. He should’ve thought ahead. Of course you were overwhelmed, you were traumatized. He was an idiot.

When you calmed down enough to look at him, he wiped your tears gently, barely even touching your skin, and handed you some water from the bedside table. He tried to assure you the best he could, interrupted intermittently by nurses and discharge forms. He didn’t bring up pressing charges again and you were grateful to him for that.

He helped you change into clothes Siwon had picked up for you, insisting you take the wheelchair to the car despite your protests (“My arm’s broken, not my leg Joonie!”). Before you entered your apartment Namjoon asked his security team to do a sweep. You would never admit it to him but having the place checked out before you entered made you extremely relieved. You knew it was irrational to think you’d have another stalker waiting for you but it genuinely made you feel lighter, your anxiety ebbing away.

He spent the next few hours quietly worrying about little things, changing the code to your door, checking every lock, making you tea, and even cleaning your place to ensure you had “optimum comfort”, while forcing you to stay in bed regardless of your protests. After a while you couldn’t take him running around and murmuring to himself, especially when he decided to order from six restaurants for dinner. Walking into the kitchen where he obsessively cleaned a single spot on the countertop, you pulled him away.

“Joonie. Stop.” you gently touched his hand, startling him anyways as he looked at you in alarm.

“Oh. Do you need anything? Tell me, I’ll get it. Water? Bathroom?” He bent down slightly to look you in the eyes, searching your face for any discomfort.

“Namjoon, I have a broken arm, I’m not an invalid.” You rolled your eyes. It was sweet that he was this concerned but you seriously needed him to stop running around worried.

“Wait, you said Namjoon. Are you mad at me?” He looked alarmed, his eyes wide. Now that you looked at him closely, he didn’t seem to be doing too well either. His eyes seemed sunken behind his glasses, the crease between his eyebrow deep, and his stubble growing out more than you’d ever seen. You wondered if he got much sleep after you dozed off this morning. He even seemed skinnier somehow, though you chalk that up to your imagination.

“No baby I’m not mad at you. Just stop… obsessing. I’m fine. I swear.” You cupped his face with your working hand, thumb circling his cheekbones in an effort to relax him. He leaned in closing his eyes.

“Oh… oh. I just want to show you I love you. You know like you do…” He mumbled in a slight pout, averting your gaze.

“What are you talking about?”

“You always take care of me when I’m down. I want to take care of you.” You felt your heart glow in your chest. Sometimes you forget how much you love this man, but sometimes he says things that, for a lack of a better analogy, punch you in the face, reminding you why you love him. You wrap your arm around his waist, nuzzling your face into his chest, as he tentatively puts his arm around your head.

“You don’t need to deep clean my kitchen to take care of me babe. Just sit next to me. Let’s watch a movie.” You lean away from his chest to tell him, trying to tug his unmovable body towards the living room.

“Are you sure? I’m almost done. Just this one stain…” He lets go of you to grab the wipe again, only for you to pull at his hand.

“Joon. Leave it.” You say sternly, holding his hand as you lean up. “Kiss me.”

“What? No. You’re hurt.” He moves back and you have to convince your irrational feelings that he wasn’t rejecting you, he was worried about you.

“If it hurts, I’ll tell you.”

“No you won’t. I know you.”

“Joonie!” you whine and he relents, although it’s not a kiss you were hoping for. He settles for a series of small pecks against your lips, so light that you barely felt him. Sure even puckering your lips was slightly painful but you were annoyed, rolling your eyes at his lame attempt. And this was the man who had spanked you so hard once that you couldn’t sit without wincing for two days. The audacity.

Before you could protest he walked with you to the living room and turned on Netflix. Picking a brainless comedy, you forced him to lie down on your lap and even before the title had come up he was asleep.

———————————-

“What wrong baby?” Namjoon came from the studio to find you lying on the ground still dressed in your pajamas with half your hair tied lopsidedly as you whined at seemingly no one, ignoring Moni as he licked your face. If he wasn’t worried that you somehow fell, he would find the sight of you throwing a tantrum like a toddler adorable.

It had been three days since you returned from the hospital, but Namjoon hadn’t seen you looking this dejected before. You had been completely normal on Sunday, even agreeing to the guys coming over for dinner so they could apologize for their behaviour at the hospital. You had riffed like usual, making fun of Jin and Yoongi as they cooked even though it seemed like you itched to get in the kitchen and help, even getting especially giddy as your childhood dream of getting a cast signed by your friends was fulfilled. The next two days, despite everyone’s insistence you had returned to work, working from home. Fortunately Harry and Siwon had rescheduled or taken over all your client meetings to lighten your load. Namjoon had returned to work too but made sure to text you throughout the day and had spent every night with you, regardless of your protests of being an “independent woman that needs no man”.

“I hate this! I’m so frustrated! I feel useless and gross!” you whined as you thrash around on the floor comically with the biggest pout he had ever seen you sport. Dropping his bag near the door and trying not to chuckle at your cute behaviour, Namjoon walked over to you kneeling next to you.

“Aww baby come here” He opened his arms invitingly as you sat up, only for you to sit crossed leg in front of him to begin your rant. Moni moves between your legs and you scratch his head absent-mindedly.

“No! I can’t attend any meetings till my face doesn’t look like fight club, I can’t shower for two more days, I can’t cook because of this dumbass arm, I can’t even tie my hair! TIE MY HAIR, JOON. I’M UGLY, USELESS AND DISGUSTING. Please leave me in my misery.”

Your face turned red as you continued listing minor inconveniences that your broken arm bestowed upon you as Namjoon made his way behind you and put his arms around your waist, his chin on your shoulder in an effort to calm you down. Instantly you relax, huffing as you leaned into his chest. Today has been tough for you. You had spent two hours on a call relaying your game plan for a potential client to Harry and walking him through his nerves about the meeting, which drained you mentally. Your laptop had restarted two times without warning, your roomba had gotten stuck under the couch and you couldn’t reach for it, you had almost fallen in the toilet because the seat was up, you ran out of coffee, and to top it all off it took you ages to write anything with your left hand alone. You felt miserable and dejected.

“You’re beautiful. My slightly stir-crazy, extremely capable, beautiful girlfriend.” Namjoon kissed your cheek as you turned your head to scowl at him, not buying his flattery. He traced your features gently. He wasn’t lying, even with your face patchy with your yellowing bruise and a scab on your lip, you were beautiful to him and he felt his heart swell the longer he looked at your face. He still had trouble believing that you were with him.

“You’re only saying that cause you love me.” You whisper softly as you avert his gaze before starting to whine again as you adjusted your sling. “Ugh I just want to eat McDonald’s and die.”

“Not going to let you die, but let’s get nuggets.”

———————————-

“Baby I got us Chinese!” Namjoon called out as he walked in your home, hands full of takeout. Hearing no answer he called out again to hear your voice coming from the bedroom.

“Joonie! Crawl under here!” He saw you emerge clumsily from the floor, cast pulled close to your chest, as he entered the room where you had piled the blankets between the edge of the bed and the chairs that you had brought near it. “I made us a fort!”

Your giggles made his heart sing as he grinned and crawled under the fort, taking care not to knock it down. You had brought the lamp from the side table under as well, lighting the small space with a soft glow. He could barely sit up, his height making it difficult not to knock down your creation so he opted for laying down, his head on your thigh as you played with his hair. He sighed in content. It felt somewhat meditative sitting in silence with you under the many sheets, the pile of soft pillows in the corner adding extra coziness.

Soon you’re laying side by side, your fingers intertwined as you bounced your hands against each other. You were both looking at the makeshift comforter ceiling, soft smiles on your faces.

“Why the sudden fort?” Namjoon asks after a while, almost in a whisper, not wanting to break the spell of comfort you both were under.

“I don’t know… It’s stupid.” He turns on his side to face you, cupping your face to make you look at him. It’s the look he always gives you whenever you doubt yourself. A look that says I’m here for you, I’ll never judge you. “I used to build these when I was a kid and missed my mom… I guess I’m feeling kind of homesick. I know it’s dumb.” You chuckle a little at how childish your comments seemed. You were almost thirty and talking about missing your mom.

Namjoon hadn’t thought of this before - the fact that Seoul wasn’t truly your home. Sure you had introduced your mom to him over Skype a few times but he thought about how much he missed Seoul when on tour, did you miss Toronto that way too? You always seemed so content in Seoul, so content with your friends that he never thought about how your family wasn’t there.

“We can go visit home if you want?” He kisses your lips chastely as he continues, his nose nuzzling yours. “I can take a few days off. I’d like to meet your mom in person.”

“We don’t have to. I’m just being a baby.” You laughed as you moved closer and he put his arm under your head to pull you into his chest. You knew this bout was homesickness was temporary, but Namjoon’s words made your heart glow in your chest. It had been two weeks since your attack and although Namjoon had been a rock, helping you with everything from ensuring that you ate to shaving your under arms, you were nostalgic about when you were sick during high school and your mom would take the day off work to take you on a drive, buying you ice cream and snacks that definitely did not help your illness. His idea wasn’t a bad one but with how your injury had messed up your work schedule, you didn’t think you could take time off for a while, and you told him as much. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence again after that, dinner forgotten on the kitchen counter, as you laid under the blankets soaking in the cozy atmosphere.

Caressing your hip slowly where your shirt ended, Namjoon cleared his throat slightly, breaking the spell before he spoke in another whisper. “I could be your home… if you want.”

Moving your head from his chest you look up to find him gazing at you with a soft smile as he turns on his side again. You follow suit, the fingers of your uninjured hand tracing his chest where it stuck between the two of you. Your heart beat faster as you slowly comprehended what he meant, but you still needed him to clarify. “What do you mean?”

“Do you want to move in together?” Namjoon was nervous - more nervous than he had been on your first date, more nervous than he had been when he asked you to be his girlfriend, more nervous than he had been after your first fight. The last two weeks had been some of his favourite with you, regardless of the circumstances that landed him there. He liked coming home to you every night, arguing over what to have for dinner, waking up each morning with his arms around you. You technically didn’t need him around anymore, your schedule was back to normal and you were more than used to navigating with one hand, but he didn’t want to go back to seeing you once or twice a week. How could he do that when he could see you everyday? The domesticity of your morning routines of coffee and reading the news together that had once scared him, were things he craved now. He even loved your playlist of the week startling him awake.

Your prolonged silence made his heart race as he bit his lip in anticipation. Before he could take back his question with a joke, you kissed him. Your lips molded around his tenderly as you took his lower lip between yours, relishing his strawberry lip balm. You break the kiss to whisper a soft yes, barely audible over the sound of your heart in your ears, and Namjoon couldn’t help breaking into a fit of giggles, his forehead against yours as he pulled you closer. He tried to control his reaction but the happiness flowing through him made him feel like he was floating.

“And they were roommates!” You made the dated reference as you giggled along with him.

“You are such a dork. I love you.” He said as he brought his lips back on yours.

“Yeah, your dork!”

“All mine.” He smiled, his eyes disappearing as his cheeks hurt from the joy he felt.

–

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[thestarswhim]

Intertwining Connection

Summary: Since MK has Monkey King’s powers, wouldn’t they both have some sort of connection to each other? 

An idea where MK might get a sense of what the Monkey King is feeling. 

Words: 1,757

Notes: Descriptions of anxiety, but nothing major.

It was late at night, a few hours before MK would have to get ready for work, and there was barely any noise except for the occasional cars that drove by. So, it was a wonder when he woke up suddenly, gasping for air as if he just ran with all the strength he had left, and sat straight up. 

He searched the whole room, alarmed, and confused, and uneasy — and when did he start using the golden vision thing? He blinked it away and rubbed at his eyes, trying to take deep breaths, but the weight still in his chest wasn’t letting up. Everything felt vague… like the feeling one would get after waking up from a dream, but… he couldn’t recall any of it if he did. The only thing that kept screaming at him was that someone was in danger. But, who? 

He fidgeted slightly in his bed and clenched his blanket around his fists, causing it to scrunch up in his hands. He bit down on his tongue as he looked over to his gear and then slowly to the window — no. No, no, no, no, no. He was not going to just go out on impulse again and then end up finding nothing. He freaked about stuff like this before, where he felt something was wrong, and usually nothing bad actually happened until a few or more days after. And he took care of those things when they did happen. Most of the time. Besides, sometimes he was just overthinking things and nothing was wrong in the first place. So, he should breathe it in, breathe it out, go back to sleep, and not worry about it (for now), right?

...

But, still… 

This felt different. It was more intense, as if it were a life or death situation, and that, by ignoring it, would be a grim, dark, scary mistake he did not want to consider. 

There began an anxious sensation he didn’t feel before going down his back like some sort of chill, and it felt way too uncomfortable. 

Okay. He should probably go and find that someone. 

He quickly got out of bed, stumbling a bit as he grabbed his jacket and headband, and saw as he was putting on his shoes how much his hands were trembling. He wasn’t scared or nervous; rather, it was that sensation that would not leave, and it was bothering him — and he really needed to go find whoever was in danger. 

Using the golden vision could help most likely, and maybe Monkey King knew what was going on? Given how strong this feeling was, it was probably another power of his, and it would be something MK would have to get used to more often. Great. 

The thought of Monkey King, however, suddenly brought a flash of blue and gold into his mind. His breath hitched at the realization, and all the weight from his chest dropped to his stomach in an instant as he snapped his head to the window.

“Monkey King,” he breathed out, and before he could comprehend it, he was jumping out the window, staff in hand.

How could Monkey King be in danger? He could clearly handle himself just fine. Maybe this was all in his head, yeah. Probably… but of course he was still going to check because… because the feeling was only growing stronger, and the sharp sensation was fully enveloping him, and, and — he suppressed a frustrated groan. Focus, MK! Now wasn't the time! He had to get to Flower Fruit Mountain! 

Before his body would reach the ground, he swiftly landed the end of the staff first with a resounding thud on the street and extended it forward to launch himself higher into the air. It would be quicker this way. 

Though, luckily and surprisingly for him, he supposed, was that not even a second after, he caught an object in his view coming straight towards him, moving in a bit too fast for his liking, actually. 

“Kid!” it shouted, tone tight and on edge, and a wave of dizzying fear penetrated his chest and left all at the same time, making his throat tighten. 

“Monkey King?” MK choked to get out. He was okay! Maybe? Was he being chased probably? That sudden, intense beat of emotion took him longer to comprehend everything properly; it left his whole body fuzzy and dull, but also static with anxious induced adrenaline, his nerves feeling singed at the edge of his mind. 

Which totally made him forget he wasn't on the ground and, rather, still in the air. The momentum he gained before was now dissipating and gravity was starting to catch up to him again, slowly dragging him down. 

Oh.

He made a yelp jump out of his mouth when he hit something sooner than he thought, but as soon realized he wasn't in immediate pain and was being picked back up into the air in a swooping motion. 

His mind processed that his head was against someone's chest, as he heard rapid, muffled thumping of a heart in his ear. Also he heard talking — and oh my gosh, Monkey King! 

He squirmed around in his mentor's grasp, trying to get a better look at his surroundings in case someone was chasing him or something. 

"Woah, hey," Monkey King started, and there was a slight tremble to his voice, but that could be from coming all the way over to the city. "Don't worry, it's just me." 

They floated back down to the ground, where MK found they were on the cloud beforehand, and took a few steps back once he was sure he was not in the air anymore (that was a rollercoaster in it of itself) to assess everything, including Monkey King who seemed fine and gave him one of his side smiles. They were the only two present at the moment; he didn’t hear or see anyone else coming, neither was his senses buzzing out anymore. He slowly exhaled. This was all so intense for no reason.

“You all right, Kid? Why were you so high in the sky this early in the morning?” Monkey King chuckled, in a short, weird way, and, if MK was seeing right, he looked relieved himself. 

“Yeah, I’m good. Sorta confused, but good,” MK nodded, twisting the staff in his hands. “And, well, I guess — are you okay? I thought something bad happened.”

Monkey King raised his eyebrows, his tail slowly swaying to and fro, and then swiftly changed into a more neutral, chill-like expression. He had been doing that a lot lately. “Of course I’m fine!” He then gazed around the area, eyes focused and distant at the same time. “Why? Did something happen?”

His voice had that certain edge again, but MK tried not to think too much on it right now, and instead relaxed his stature more and shook his head. “No? I mean I hope not. I woke up in this panic and it was not leaving no matter what I did which made me think it was something serious and that someone was in trouble, and then I had a feeling that it could be you? And now you're here, so I guess it was nothing? I’m not sure.” 

Silence… and then, “unless something is wron—”

“Okay, kiddo,” Monkey King put his hand on MK’s head, “before you start freaking out again: I’m fine, and I’m pretty sure everything else is fine. It was probably a dream you had if anything.”

MK thought for a moment. It probably was, but, like before, he couldn’t remember any of it even if he tried. It was weird. He sighed, “I guess. So… why are you here, then?”

Monkey King stiffened, MK could tell from his hand still on his head and the way his fingers twitched in his hair, but it was so subtle and quick, no one would catch it. But, and for some reason, MK kept catching those small moments more and more, and he wasn’t sure if he liked that, or what to think of it. 

His mentor put his hand back down and stretched. “Eh, ‘just wanted to smell the morning air, I don’t do it often. So, I thought I’d fly around the city for a while, and then, to my suprise, there you were nearly falling, so,” his shoulders shook from his small laughter again. “But, I suppose I should head back now since everything seems to have settled down, and you should try and get some more rest before you actually have to get up, okay?” 

“Right,” MK said, and he wanted to say more, that look in Monkey King’s eyes made him want to, but… maybe now wasn't the right time. And maybe he was over exaggerating things. Monkey King was fine, and even if he was hiding anything, MK shouldn’t press on it if he wasn’t supposed to know. He had learned that by now…  

“All right, Kid, lets go,”  Monkey King smiled gently, and, before MK could question anything, he grabbed a hold of him and lifted them both back up on the cloud over to his balcony.

“Thanks,” MK smiled back while he safely landed his feet on said balcony. “I’ll see you tomorrow! Or, wait, today? What time is it?” 

“Way too early to be up,” Monkey King reminded with a smirk, “so go to sleep or else you’ll be sweeping the whole mountain.”

“Wait, really?” Because no. No, thank you. Was that even possible, and who would even sweep a whole mountain? 

Monkey King shrugged with a “I don’t know” noise. “I guess we’ll have to see later today," and, with a short wave and a wink, said, "see ya, bud!" and went zooming away.

MK watched him go once again, leaning his arms against the railing. The sun was just beginning to show up, the dark blue sky becoming a lighter shade of gray with warm tones peeking out between the buildings. As his mind went over everything, he closed his eyes and sighed, letting the light breeze brush over the tips of his hair. 

He probably wasn't going back to bed. 

~~~

Wukong road on his cloud on the way back to the mountain, hoping the wind would take his thoughts with it. 

The kid… was he sharing…? 

No. Maybe. 

He roughly huffed. He had to keep his emotions in check, or else he was going to end up hurting the both of them.

~~~

Notes: This one was a bit shorter, but I wanted to write about it because the idea was pretty interesting to me, and it’d be cool if they explored more on how they’re sharing the same power, so... (and the part where I made Wukong catch MK was what inspired me to write it all in general because I thought it looked nice in my head and it was my first thought for the idea LOL) 

BUT YES, I hope you enjoyed! And if any of you want to write out or do anything about this idea, go right ahead; I would love to see it!!

I might make this a series of little one-shots or even longer stories if I get more ideas for it, but, anywho, thank you so much for reading!! Much Love, and many Blessings! 😊

[backtobackbakubabe]

I am the Alpha Now Part 13

Bakugo X Reader (Violence, mentions of torture) Also Dabi enters the chat in this chapter :)

Words: 2454

Masterlist

Reader is from America and somewhat of a delinquent with an alpha quirk that allows her to turn into a wolf as well as bond with dogs. She is sent to UA to straighten out her attitude. She ends up in a power struggle with none other than our favorite hot head. Words in Italics are words said telepathically.

You tried to put as much distance between you and UA as possible, and fast. You knew it only a matter of time before Katsuki noticed you were gone. You also knew it wouldn’t take long for him to come after you. Your adrenaline was pumping, and your breath was labored as you tried to keep your anxiety attack at bay.

You didn’t really know where you were. You had only ever left campus with Bakugo or Kirishima leading the way. The email said they would find you, so here you were wandering around town taking random turns and looking over your shoulder every few seconds.

You felt empty disconnecting from your pack, but you couldn’t risk them coming to find you. At least not yet. Your heart ached at their absence. Usually there was a persistent warm buzz in your chest that connected you to Mercy and now Katsuki…. Now it’s just cold.

A shiver ran down your spine. This was the most alone you had ever been since getting Mercy.

You took another turn and ran into a dead-end alley. You were about to turn around when your shoulders tensed. There was someone behind you.

“What do we have here? A little lost mouse perhaps?” Your instincts kicked in at the sound of the hostile and unfamiliar voice. Your eyes glowed as you started to shift but a hand clamped down around the back of your neck and squeezed. “Oh I don’t think so. You might look like a sweet girl, but I’ve seen the videos… I know what you’re capable of.” The hand started to heat up and you could smell your skin start to burn. “There was one video in particular… You ripped a man’s arms off with your teeth… and although you were in wolf form, I swear you looked excited about it.”

You hissed through the pain before putting your hands up in a show of submission. “If you kept watching then you would know that wasn’t the only thing I ripped off? So, I would be careful if I was you. I mean unless you’d like to join the castration club.”

The man laughed loud and giddily, “Oh I like you. You’re feisty.” His hand got even hotter, making the tears instinctively prick at the corners of your eyes. “I love feisty girls. I really turns me on to watch them break…” He released his hand and watched as your skin started to slowly heal itself. “Oh that’s just beautiful. It seems you’re a little less…. Breakable…. Oh we’re going to have so much fun together dollface.”

With his hand gone you swung around and tried to elbow him in the face, but he caught it and threw you to the ground. “I wouldn’t do that again if I were you. I don’t care how fast you heal. My fire will incinerate you. It will cremate you where you stand.” He leaned down to get on your level and his thumb stroked a tear away from your cheek. “I don’t want to do that. So how about we just play nice and I won’t have to.”

Now that you could see his face you recognized him immediately. This was Dabi. He was there the night the league kidnapped Katsuki. You hadn’t been there, but you had heard horror stories from your fellow classmates. Katsuki was the only one who refused to talk about it. It had left an emotional scar in him so deep that he wouldn’t even talk to you about it. You spit in his face, “What the fuck do you even want with me?”

You saw something flash in his blue eyes. Something between disgust and fascination. “Well the boss had originally only wanted you for one job… but now that I see how fun you can be, I’m thinking I might just make you my little pet. I’ve always wanted a dog.”

You sharpened your nails to claws and raked them across his chest, ripping out some of those surgical staples as you went. You heard him grunt in pain before backhanding you hard. You heard a sickening crunching noise as your head hit the wall. Your vision blurred and you grew dizzy. You knew you would heal soon, but you just needed to not pass out before then.

Dabi grabbed your hair and yanked back to make you look at him. “You’re going to regret that. I was prepared to do this the easy way. So, this is your first, last, and only warning. Do what we ask, and we will let you go. Resist and you’ll be mine to play with until I get bored.” He leaned closer narrowing his eyes at your defiant expression. “I can see the fight in your eyes. That’s good. You’re going to need it. But just remember that we can release those files to the public at any time. Don’t do anything stupid.”

You chuckled, “You’re the ones who need to remember that if you release those files, you take away everything from me. You’ve apparently seen what I’m like when I go feral. You push me into a corner. You take away what makes me human… You’ll be signing your death warrant.”

He smirked but his eyes looked angry. He gripped your hair tighter before throwing it back into the wall and your world went dark.

***** Bakugo’s POV*******

Where the fuck did you go? Where are you? Why can’t he find you? He knows you taught him how. You had practiced it many times together. There were dozens of times he would even reach out during class just to feel your calming presence when he got anxious. Now it’s just…. Gone. There was a void where he used to be able to feel you. He still has some small consolation in the form of Mercy who was equally if not more devastated at your missing state.

“Did she say anything before she left? Give you any kind of clue as to where she might be going?”

Mercy whined as he walked beside Bakugo with his nose to the ground trying to get a sent. “All she said was she was feeling nervous and needed to go to the bathroom. She left and then out of nowhere she turned the bond off. I can’t feel her either.”

Bakugo ran a nervous hand through his hair. “Is this normal? You think she’s just throwing a tantrum or something? She seemed a little irritated the other day with the thought of being a mooch…”

Mercy stiffened and huffed, “No… If she were throwing a tantrum, she would only hide from you. No offense. The only other time our bonds been cut was when….” Mercy stopped walking and Bakugo could feel his despair.

Bakugo was now trying to run his anxious fingers through Mercy’s fur, “When what? When did this happen before?”

Mercy whimpered and shook his head, “She wouldn’t want me to tell you. She doesn’t like to talk about it.”

Bakugo tried to keep his voice from shaking as his anxiety and anger started to take over, “I know you would never do anything that would hurt y/n. But right now you keeping secrets from me could possibly be putting her in danger. We need to find her and bring her back. So please Mercy. Just tell me. Please.”

Mercy shook his fur as a shiver went down his spine. “Okay but it’s not easy to hear. And she will be livid when she finds out I told you.”

Bakugo nodded his head urging Mercy to continue. “It’s only happened twice. Both times when we were in America. Her dad was the sheriff, but he wasn’t a very good one. He wasn’t crooked or anything. Just incompetent. However he did tend to look the other way a few times, mostly because he was a coward. Y/n took it upon herself to start doing the dirty work. Take down the bad guys for him. She just wanted to make him proud.”

Mercy continued to sniff the ground as he spoke, “One night she got captured. It was almost two years ago, she almost seventeen. We had split up to try and trap them in. It was something we did a lot back then. Except this time, I got there, and she was gone. She had turned off the bond as well. I later found out that she was being tortured and she didn’t want me to feel that pain with her. She wanted to carry that alone. To this day I don’t know exactly what happened. But I don’t know it was the first time she ever went feral.”

Bakugo’s heart shattered but somehow continued to beat very loudly in his ears. “What do you mean feral?”

Mercy took an abrupt turn and looked both ways and sniffing before continuing on his path, “Yeah feral. If she’s ever pushed to her limits… she turns feral which is just as bad as it sounds. She turns into this wild dog that doesn’t seem to care about anything but it’s own survival. They had her for three days before she broke. She killed that night. She knows she did, but she claims to not remember doing it.”

Bakugo’s head was spinning. How did he not know any of this? He had even tried looking you up before you got here. He had found plenty of misdemeanor vigilante bullshit, but nothing like this. His fists clenched in anger. He knew it was stupid to be mad that he couldn’t protect you before he even knew you existed. But he knew you now, and here he was, fucking letting you down. “When was the second time? You said it happened twice?”

Mercy’s ears pinned back, “When she died…”

“I’m sorry… When she WHAT?”

Mercy stopped for a brief moment, “She drowned maybe a month before we came here. Her healing can do a lot, but it can’t do anything about that.”

Bakugo followed Mercy into an empty alley, “Was it a villain?”

Mercy stopped, “Yup…..Being the only hero in a small town where crime is on the rise put a huge target on her back….This is where the scent stops.”

Bakugo looked around for anything. Any sign you were here, but all he found was blood on the wall. One look at Mercy confirmed his fears. That it was yours.

******* Your POV******

There was a dull ache in your head, but not nearly as bad as it should have been. You had a blindfold on, and your arms were bound behind you. You flexed a little to test your restraints. Given enough time to wake up your still groggy body, you thought you could probably break them.

“Oh it sounds like someone’s finally awake.” The blindfold was ripped off and you had to squint at the bright light now assaulting your vision.

Dabi was crouched down to your level running a dirty hand through your hair now, “I have to say I’m a big fan of the whole healing thing. I didn’t even have to clean you up after bashing your skull in. So convenient.”

You would roll your eyes, but your head still hurt a little. “So is this the part where you tell me what you actually fucking want or what?”

Dabi stood back up when he heard footsteps behind him. Shigaraki approached giving the both of you a bored look. “I apologize for Dabi’s poor manors and quick temper. I had hoped to get you here in a more civilized manor, but he still managed to get you here in one piece, so I guess that’s all that matters. My name is-“

“Shigaraki, yeah I know. You’re the leader of the League. I do my homework.”

This makes the crusty man chuckle, “That makes two of y/n l/n. I’ve done quite a bit of research on you, and honestly I am just surprised they let you anywhere near UA given your reputation.”

You flexed again to test your restraints. You know you could break out of them if you wanted to. You just needed to wait until the right moment.

Shigaraki looked bored again as he sighed and turned to leave the room. “Dabi’s in charge of your little mission so play nice and do as he says. We’re not against the idea of kidnapping your boyfriend again. Should be easy considering he’s more than likely out looking for you as we speak. Alone.”

As soon as crusty was out of earshot Dabi perked up. “You heard the man. I’m in charge. Let’s get going then.” He took a few steps before he realized you weren’t following him. You made an annoyed face while gesturing to your bound hands. He chuckled. “I think we both know you’re strong enough to bust out of those. Come on let’s go. I’m not known for being patient.”

You grunted as you broke the restraints. One of your wrists popping painfully as you did so. You silently followed Dabi out of the room you had been kept in. You found yourself in a massive, disgusting, warehouse. He kept walking until he was outside and opened the passenger door to a car. You stopped and shook your head, “Nope, I will not be going to a second location with you. That is when people die.”

He scowled before grabbing your shoulder and shoving you inside the car, “I don’t remember asking.” He slammed your door shut and walked around to his side.

The first couple of minutes you rode in silence. The silence was tense and he almost seemed… nervous?

Eventually he tuned the radio up. He started to talk in an even tone while he looked straight ahead at the road. “I was ordered to pick you up because crusty has some weird obsession with the kids that go to school at UA. He thinks he can turn you into some kind of double agent in order to get insight on a few he has his eye on.”

His jaw tightened as he made an effort to keep his tone even. Almost like he thought someone was listening. “I however had a different plan for you. You see I don’t care about those brats. In fact, I’d be just as happy never seeing some of them ever again.”

You could feel your palms sweating. You were in a car with a murderous villain. He apparently had plans for you. You reached back at the spot where you know your head had hit the brick wall. “What do you want me to do?”

His voice got even lower, if that was even possible. “I want you to kill Shigaraki for me.”

**********************************************************************

Tags :

@tspice283 , @realityisoftendisapointing , @imbi-101 , @thoughtfulpandazine2 , @hotarumorikawa , @huh-iwasntpayingattention , @starfishlovingbnha , @weebnumber3622 , @mixedfeeelings , @munchmunch01 , @inumorph @xxoperatexx

[captaincravatthecapricious]

Feverish and Teary & How Long Has it Been Since You’ve Eaten- Prompt Fill

@thatonekidellis​ Jon, Tim, and Martin have a rough time after the Unknowing. Especially Jon.  I hope this is kind of what you were asking for?  

@janekfan​ you get a ping because this is your au!

CWs: nausea, vomiting, fainting, fever, food mention, alcohol mention, canon typical mentions of Tim's pre-unknowing mindset, canon typical Jon not taking care of himself.

I am still accepting bingo prompts, so let me know which character, which prompt, and if you want a drawing of a fic!  Bingo card by the wonderful @celosiaa​!  This one is twice my usual length because it is two prompts and I did not want to cheat!

The Unknowing blows up.  

As simple as that.  

All according to plan.  

It really is as simple as that.  

Jon, Tim, Daisy, Basira.  Piled back in Daisy's car.  Ears ringing.  Soot slowly settling.  Trying to drive away before the actually police get there.  

It hasn't been Jon's problem how to avoid arrest.  

He is even more glad it isn't his problem now, as he slides down the beat up seat in the back of Daisy's car.  Ash streaks the window, mixing with the light rains that is starting to fall.  

Jon tries not to vomit the nothing he's eaten in the last couple days.  Nothing in him but frayed nerves and statements.  Hadn't even managed to stomach dramamine before their trip.  

Jon just wants to sleep.  

They still have their hotel reservation for another couple hours, so Daisy drives them back there to clean up before heading back to London.  Yes they have to go back today, it's less suspicious.  Jon isn't sure if that is actually true, but he doesn't have the energy to argue.  

Tim showers.  Jon sends a text to Martin.  'Alive.'  

He doesn't answer Martin's near-immediate call because just then he's dry-heaving into the small bin in the corner.  Stiff and shaking and sweaty and miserable.    

Jon showers.  Too dizzy to stand, he sits on the shower floor.  He hates that.  The tub feels filthy.  He feels filthy.  He scrubs his skin raw.  He stands.  He throws up more nothing.  He scrubs himself again, leaning heavily on the wall.  

He wants to talk to Tim.  He wants to tuck himself into Tim's arms and never move again.  Christ, he's running an impressive fever.  Probably.  It's hard to tell.  And his brain is swimming too much to even think about asking the Eye.  

He's cold.  He shivers in his threadbare joggers and stolen jumper (Martin's).  

He wants to join Tim on the bed by the window, but Tim ...looks too deep in a melancholy thought to even notice.  Somewhere between losing his drive for anything, adrenaline crash, and losing the last hope of a last glimpse of Danny, if Jon were to guess.  

Jon could say something.  He knows he could.  But, hasn't he caused enough of a fuss?  Made Tim and Martin trail after him after the ...the.... with Daisy and... that.  If he'd have just stayed quiet and stayed still... well Tim would still hate him... and might not be alive... but ....but he's caused so much worry with that.  And then with... his other kidnapping No.  He can't think about what that... what... not without puking again which... the point is not to worry Tim.  Which means he should try some medicine again.... if he can keep it in him half an hour he'll survive the drive back.  Probably.  

Christ, when is the last time he bothered to drink anything?  

He lays there in a daze until Daisy bangs on the door telling them it's time to leave.  

Tim sleeps on the drive back.  Finally giving into the last few sleepless nights.  Jon is jealous.  

Last night had been spent tangled together, shaking, awake, and silent.  Anxiety too thick to slice with words.  Not even nothing to turn off the lights, because the fear is a little easier to manage in the light.  Jon couldn't stop thinking about Nikola.  He couldn't stop thinking about plastic hands on him.  Couldn't stop thinking about how many things could go wrong and how he could lose Tim and Martin when he only just got Tim back.  

Jon was pretty sure Tim hadn't been sleeping the last few nights.  Jon knows he hasn't.  Not that he has slept well in a long time.    

In any case, Tim sleeps.  Jon doesn't.  

Daisy glares at him through the review mirror.  Jon isn't sure if she is still waiting for him to prove himself monstrous so she can attack, or if she is making sure he isn't ill in her car... again.  (He really wishes he could forget his first ride in her car.  Really really really wishes.  It was not a pleasant experience for anyone, and Daisy had made him pay the cleaning bill.)  

It doesn't matter, he slides down further in his seat and closes his eyes tightly.  

His head hurts.  

Thankfully the medicine knocks him out soon enough.  

Martin greets them at the institute door.  Melanie by his side.  

Jon hazily wakes up to Martin gently touching his shoulder.  

"You actually made it!  I'm so glad you're safe... I was so worried, Jon why didn't you answer your phone, I've been so worried, I mean I know you would have said something if something had happened, but Christ I've been so worried about you, come here."  

Jon starts mumbling some apologies, but is interrupted by Martin gently gathering him in a hug.  Jon sinks into it, fervently hoping Martin doesn't notice the heat rolling off of him.  

Thankfully Martin is too distracted, gathering Tim in a crushing embrace.  Likely very relieved that Tim didn't die, and knowing Tim is harder to break than Jon with his delicate bones and fragility following many incidents.  

Jon... doesn't really know what he's trying to accomplish.  Just... get out?  Or go in?  Or get to the cot?  Or just curl up on the cold tile of the basement toilets?  Get away from people he will inevitably worry?  

Just go somewhere where he can fall apart without taking anyone else down with him.  

It looks like Martin has been crying.  Jon hopes it isn't over him.  

Tim needs to recover from the emotional toll of the last few days without having to pick up the pieces after Jon Again.  

Jon slowly backs away.  

His head is swimming, but that's okay.  If he can just reach the Archives.  The cot.  Anywhere.  Anywhere away from this moment.  This breath.  

His vision swims violently, and there is no doubt in his mind that he is going to be very well acquainted with the pavement in a matter of seconds.  Either that or he's going to be ill?  No.  Sidewalk.  He's going to eat the sidewalk.  Heh... first thing he'll have eaten in days.  

He isn't sure if he loses consciousness or not.  It's hard to tell in the blur of motion and sounds and his spinning head.  Sound is almost gooey in this state of almost unconsciousness, but he thinks someone might be shouting.  Or several someones.  He should maybe worry about this?  But in actuality, he is praying he properly passes out to save himself any more embarrassment and save himself from his unsteady insides.  

His face hurts.  

Someone is holding him.  

Jon fights to open his eyes.  They don't seem to want to look in the same direction, rolling in their sockets instead of doing what he wants them to.  He blinks hard a few times, failing to bring things into focus.  Glasses?  Does he still have those?  Did they break?  No... still there.  Skewed on his face.  Just... too dizzy to see, then.  

Daisy and Basira are glaring at him.  Melanie is walking away.  Possibly.  Hard to tell when the world is tilting with unsteady regularity.  

Jon closes his eyes again, pressing a groan against the nausea that threatens to overcome him, despite the medicine.  

"Jon?"  

"Burning up."

He's too hazy to put a name to a voice.  The words dripping in the air around him, tightening around his chest, silly string sitting on his skin in fibrous heaps that jiggle uncomfortably, cold and clammy.  

Shit, thinking in gibberish.  That can't be good.  

“Does anyone know how long he’s been ill?”  

Someone grunts.  

Footsteps.  Two sets?  I’m asking away.  Leaving him.   

“I.... I don’t know.  I don’t think he was feverish last night?  But... I haven’t exactly been... It’s.  It’s been hard.”

“Jon?”

He’s being jostled.   He whines.  Stomach flopping dangerously.   

"Jon?  Are you awake?  Can you open your eyes for me?"  

"Oh shit, he's gonna puke."  

He's being lifted, shifted on his side, bin shoved in his hands.  Where he throws up more nothing.  

He's crying now, feeling like utter shit, and unfortunately more awake.  

He isn't sure if eyes swimming with tears is better or worse than the unsteady world tipping around him and making him feel worse.  

"Christ, Jon!"  

He finally pries his eyes open.  Martin and Tim solidify above him.  More or less.  Still fuzzing in and out of focus.  

Now that he's crying, he just... can't stop.  Fistfuls of Martin's sweater.  

"Oh Jon..."  Martin's arms circle him, carefully.  Gentle not to jostle him more.  

"Buddy.  Think we can get you off the sidewalk?"  Tim.  Cupping his face.  Smoothing back sweat and tear soaked hair, long since escaped his bun, still not dried from his earlier shower.  "My flat isn't far, you know?  Didn't bring my car here, though.  Still... wasn't..."

Tim cuts himself off, but even addled as he is, Jon can fill in the rest of the sentence.  

So can Martin apparently, because Martin frowns.  It's never been more apparent that he's been crying quite recently.  "Still weren't sure you were coming home...  Tim..."  And his eyes start looking damp.  

Tim is tearing up now.  "Martin... let's not in the street...  I can carry Jon back to mine, it isn't far.  You can come too.  We'll get some take out.  Drink some whiskey.  Get Mr. Smoking hot cooled off.  We can talk then.  It's.... it's been a rough week."  

"Jon?  Can I carry you?  I think that might be less rough than a cab ride?  Do you need a few minutes?"  

Martin's voice is soft, and Jon thinks he could sleep right there.  In fact, he might.  So he nods.  

Martin lifts him carefully.  His head swims again.  This all is feeling rather familiar.  Jon takes a deep breath and closes his eyes.  He tries to relax despite the lingering anxieties about heights.  Martin feels safe.  Tim is also safe now.  He lets himself drift.  

He wakes briefly on the trip.

"Hey bud, how are you feeling?"  Tim.  Tim seems off.  Too many things crossing his face to parse out, probably even for someone with a better sense than Jon of what those subtle face changes mean.  But Jon is too hazy to think.    

Jon's mouth feels gummed up.  His eyes feel gummed up.  

He's thankful his mouth doesn't taste like something died in it, though.  Although he is very aware how unhealthy it was that he's spent a good portion of the day with his body trying to turn itself inside out, and he couldn't so much as produce bile.  

Jon feels sick thinking about it, so stops.  He drifts again.  

He wakes to a damp rag on his forehead, no memory of anything past the explosion. 

How did he get here? 

"Sorry, that looked like a nice sleep, but you'll feel better with some medicine in you, and some water.  We can try some tea later, once the meds work.  And some food hopefully."  

Martin helping him sit up.  Just enough to get a few sips and some pills into Jon.  Which, Jon thought was probably optimistic, but he'd try it for Martin.  

"When was the last time you ate?" Martin again.  

Jon blinks at him in confusion.  "Is it over?"  

"Is what over?"  Still Martin.  

Where's Tim?  Where's Daisy?  Where's Basira?  Where's Melanie?

His breathing picks up, and that makes his head spin again, and makes him wonder just how long he can keep the medicine down.  

"Is it over, what happened?"  He's panting now, halfway to a panic attack.  

"Jon?  Jon!  Calm down.  Can you take a breath for me?"  

How did he get here?  Where is he?  This looks like Tim's flat, but there is Tim?  Did he survive.  

Jon reaches for anything.  But comes up blank.  

"Where's Tim?  What happened?"  He gasps out.  It feels like his ribcage is shrinking, being laced up the front. fighter than the corset he had worn in acting class in uni.  

"Tim's... taking a moment.  As soon as we got you here... he.... it's been rough on him, you know?  He did all this for... and I know he said he wanted to live.  He wants to live... but he's... not been in a good place and it's helped that you two are talking again... and that he's had company more... but he saw an old picture with.... with his brother.... and that polaroid with ... with Sasha.  Well, he keeps going between you know tearful and sorry and cackling about how everything blew up.  It's... probably a lot to have three revenge schemes going at once for the same.... not a person really... but ... Her.  And then... having it sorted.  But...  Listen Jon I don't know.  What don't you remember... or what's the last thing you remember?"  Martin edges on histerical near the middle, but takes a turn for the sad near the end.  

"I remember the... the world was all wrong.  Then... then it blew up.  Is it over?  Martin are you real.  Is everyone alive?  What happened to you?"  He's desperate.  Desperate breaths too shallow.  Words interrupted by jagged pulling of too thin oxygen.  He's going to pass out.  

He does.  

He wakes feeling... clearer.  The last period of wakefulness a distant and flighty thing, dancing just out of his reach.  The rest of the embarrassing day back in vivid detail.  Tim's sitting over him.  Or rather, curled around him.  Jon's hair is being played with.  A stray curl looped around Tim's finger as he laughs softly to himself.  Muttering that he's alive.  That Jon's alive.  That Martin is alive.  he didn't lose anyone else.  That that clown is finally dead.  Finally.  

Gentle and warm hand on his face, refreshing the cloth.  Checking his temperature.  

"I..."  Tim chokes on a sob.  And Jon tries to remember how his arms work so he can let Tim know he's there.  

"Tim?"  

"Hey bud... sorry."  Tim wipes his eyes on his sleeve.  "It's been a hell of a week.  I... don't know how to feel about it.  Fuck I need a drink....  And to check in with Martin.  I... he hasn't told me what happened, but he's upset.  And.  Fuck I should have noticed you were ill, why didn't you say anything?"  Tim's voice starts to rise, and Jon tenses.  All the times Tim yelled at him still too fresh in his mind.  He trusts Tim.  he does... but Christ he is still afraid.  Afraid that it can't last, that it isn't real.  Where it be a trick of his mind, or some manipulation tactic to an end Jon can't see, he doesn't know.  

"Hey.  Hey.  Buddy... Jon.  I'm sorry.  didn't mean to yell.  It's just... been a day.  I'm not mad at you.  I just... I'm worried about you and Martin and I...I don't know how to feel about everything that happened.  I'm sorry you feel like shit."

Jon feels... like shit.  Marginally less nauseous, however.  A little less like he's going to pass out again.  Probably been given plenty of pills by Martin.  

"Sorry."  He croaks.  Voice probably shredded with smoke.  And fever.  

"He, bud, don't apologize.  I'm sorry I didn't notice you weren't well.  I... I thought I knew better than to be that preoccupied.  I mean... I guess I didn't make it worse this time, but..."  Tim sighs.  "I'm disappointed in myself because I don't want to fuck this up again.  And no don't apologize again part of that was on me and yes part of that was on you and we've done apologies to death.  All we can do now is keep going.  I just wanted to protect you and I couldn't see you were fading in front of my eyes.  Again.  I know you haven't been eating or sleeping, but I haven't been either so I didn't want to call you on it, and I didn't want you to call me on it, but I should have noticed.  I know I couldn't have done much, but I didn't do anything but shut you out again.  I could have told someone to stop to get you medicine, or food or even a bit more rest.  I know that would have done fuck-all, but I still could have offered you a little comfort and warmth and had us brought straight back here."  

Tim's crying properly now.  Jon is too.  Not sure if it is the fever, or just... everything.  There is so much to feel and think and worry about and yes they saved the world but that the fuck comes next.  

What comes next is that Martin enters with tea for Jon and a bottle of whiskey.  

Jon scrubs at his eyes.  "Martin what happened?"  Jon can see he's been crying again.  That is starting to scare him.  It's a goddamn miracle he hasn't pulled an answer out of anyone yet today.  

"It's... well it isn't fine.  I... well our plan worked here too.  Just... you know... Elias.  He can.... He can do things.  It's fine.  It's worth it."  Martin swipes at his eyes furiously.  

Jon pushes himself up, ignoring the room tilting around him, and hugs Martin.  Jon's still crying.  Martin sniffling.  Tim also crying.  It's... a very damp hug.  And Jon knows he's too warm to be comfortable to hold, and he's shivering hard enough to rattle Tim and Martin.  

"I'm... I'm so sorry Martin."  Jon chokes out.  

"It's alright.  It was worth it.  And you both.  Christ I am so glad to see you again... I thought... I thought.... I didn't..."  Martin is fully sobbing now.  Tea set down on Tim's bedside table, the whiskey being pried from his hands by TIm.  

Late that night the bottle is empty (and so are a couple more), Tim and Martin have killer headaches, and Jon is still feverish, but less so.  A lot of tears have been shed.  And Jon has been plied with enough liquids that he feels a little less like a crumbling husk.  

By the time that Tim and Martin are ready to think about food, Jon is finally feeling like he can maybe stomach something.  They order takeout.  Jon... has some broth. 

By morning Jon manages a few bites of leftovers.  

By afternoon, Elias Bushard is arrested.  

[breaddowrites]

Fresh Start | Draco Malfoy x Reader

hey, this was inspired partially by someones shifting experience. pls let me know if you want me to continue this, and share ideas if you have. also let me know if any of it is kinda bad. critique me!

words: 2.3k

warnings: violence n mean draco

You were a very popular Gryffindor in year 6. You had managed to befriend all the right people from the other houses, and most of the teachers adored you and how much you reminded them of your mother. Everyone loved you.

Everyone except one.

“Oi! L/N!” Draco shouted, chasing after you as you ran out of potions class.

You were fuming, your eyes narrowed to angry slits and your lips pursed. The entire school knew to stay out of your way when you had that look on your face. Except Draco Malfoy. “Look at me when I talk to you!” Draco grabbed your arm, pulling you to face him.

You had just reached the top of the stairs as he spun you around, and you almost tripped down them. You glared fiercely at Draco, and snapped your arm out of his grasp. “Do I look like I’m in the mood to talk to you, Malfoy?!”

“I don’t give a bloody damn if you’re in the mood to talk to me.” He glared back at you with equal fire. “You screwed up my grade, you stupid wench. Screw up like that again and the whomping willow will have do with you!”

An uncontrollable rage grew in your stomach, and you grit your teeth. “Damn the whomping willow!” You shouted, fists balled at your side. “And damn you, Malfoy! All you care about is yourself. I’m so tired of dealing with you, bloody selfish prick! Can’t you just find someone else to piss off for once, you BRAT!”

You were screaming by the end of your rant, and a crowd of students had formed to watch you two argue. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, but it got worse with every passing day.

Draco was enraged by your words and shrilling voice, he reached his hands out to grab your shoulders and push you down the stairs behind you. You gasped at your sudden loss of balance, and grabbed Draco’s wrist. The stairs began to move to the other side of the hall as you stumbled, and you two went tumbling to the landing on the other side of the hall. You cried out of pain, you had definitely received a lot of new bruises and as Draco landed on you, you thought you broke a few ribs.

With the unresolved anger issues you possessed, you rolled to be on top of Draco and began throwing the punches your mother had taught you in case of situations like this. “I’m gonna kill you, Malfoy!” You screamed, your hands wrapped around his throat. 

Draco spun you over and punched you with his right fist. You gasped at the feeling of his cold metal rings colliding with your skin. “Not if I kill you first, L/N!”

The fight became more violent as the seconds passed, neither of you remembering you had magic powers. None of the students watching dared get between the feral teenagers. 

Finally, McGonagall and Snape appeared, tearing the two apart. “What on EARTH is going on here?!” Snape boomed, bringing the pair back to reality. 

“He pushed me-”

“She punched me-”

“SILENCE!” McGonagall exclaimed, her grip on you tightening. “I don’t even know where I’m going to start with you two!”

In McGonagall’s classroom, Draco and you sat in two chairs next to each other. Your uniforms were ruffed, and both of you had blood pooling from various parts of your faces. You had your tie shoved to your bloody nose, and Draco was holding his black eye. 

Snape and McGonagall were shouting.

When they had finally released you to the infirmary, your task was to walk together in a civilized manner. Your adrenaline had worn off, and you weren’t that angry anymore. The exhaustion and dizziness made you realize you probably had a concussion.

“You’re such an idiot, L/N.” Draco, on the other hand, was still fuming.

You rolled your eyes, shoving your hands into your pockets. “Merlin, just shut up for once, Malfoy. My head is spinning enough, I don’t need your bloody voice ringing in my ears anymore.”

Draco grit his teeth. “You’re not so innocent, and everyone knows now. Everyone knows the monster you really are.”

Your eyes snapped up to glare at him. “Shut it, daddy’s boy. Just because you don’t get enough attention at home doesn’t mean you can go searching for it everywhere else. I’m just as tired of you as your parents are.” You paused, raising a hand to your eyes. “Shit,”

Draco stared at you, wondering how the hell you had the nerve to keep saying stuff like that to him. He was still fuming, and hardly noticed your paling face. “At least my father loves me enough to stick around, can’t say the same for yours. Wasn’t he declared dead a few days ago?

“Draco-” You tried interrupting, your vision going fuzzy. You struggled to move. 

“Must be a shame to be known as the girl with a dead father and a crazy bitch of a mother.”

You shoved your arm out to grab his sleeve. “I-”

With a short start to a sentence, you were down. Draco hardly managed to catch you as your legs gave out. “L/N?” He questioned, watching your eyes roll back and your mouth fall open. He bent his ear to your mouth, feeling you breathing ever so softly. “Bloody hell,” he sighed, wincing as he tossed you over his sprained shoulder.

Madame Pomfrey exclaimed when she saw Draco rush in with you. “Set her there!” She pointed to the closest empty bed. Draco set you down as gently as he could. “Draco, what happened?!”

“W-We were doing fine, just walking. Well, we got into a fight, obviously. We also fell down the stairs.” A tinge of guilt pang through him as he watched Pomfrey dab the welts on your face from his rings. “She just collapsed. I think she said something about being dizzy.”

“She must be concussed,” Pomfrey furrowed her brows with worry. “This is very bad. She might not wake up.” 

Draco’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “What do you mean she might not wake up?” 

“It’s very risky to fall asleep with a concussion, and if she just collapsed, that’s a very bad sign. She may have slipped into a coma.” Pomfrey sighed, beginning to take your vitals. “All I can do right now is examine her until she wakes up.”

Draco turned and sprinted out of the room, the overwhelming feeling to get away from your unconscious body was uncontrollable. “Draco!” Pomfrey yelled. “I still need to patch you up!”

Everyone had gone to visit you in bed, everyone except Draco Malfoy. 

One day, late in the afternoon, Draco walked into the infirmary. He almost had to walk back out. He never thought he could hold so much guilt for someone he once despised to the core.

Your bruises had almost healed, they were just yellow spots littering your pale skin. He sat in the chair that was always besides your bed, and glanced over your still figure. You hadn’t moved in weeks. It was completely his fault. “L/N…” He began softly, shifting his gaze to his bruised knuckles. “I’m sorry.” He’d spent days trying to justify his actions, trying to shift the blame to you, but he just couldn’t anymore.

Madame Pomfrey was alerted by a crash in the main room. She raced out of her office to see that the bed which occupied you for two weeks was empty. “Y/N?” Pomfrey called out, rushing over to find you curled fearfully on the floor and Draco stepping away from you.

Tears streaking down your cheeks, you looked up. “W-Where am I? Where’s my mother?!” You cried, scooting yourself against the wall. “Who are you people?! MOTHER!” You cried out, sinking in on yourself. 

“Y/N, Y/N, my dear!” Madame Pomfrey crouched down a few feet in front of you. “My name is Madame Pomfrey, I’m the matron at Hogwarts. You recognize Hogwarts, don’t you, darling?”

“H-Hogwarts?” You questioned, lowering your hands from your face. Your gaze flickered between Pomfrey and Draco. “Am I at Hogwarts?”

“Yes, sweetheart. You had an incident and fell into a concussion coma for a few weeks. It seems you have a bit of amnesia as well.” Pomfrey frowned at you and stood back up. “Can I examine you, my dear?”

“Who is he?” You asked, pointing at Draco.

“That’s Draco Malfoy. He was just visiting you, a lot of people have been visiting you since your accident.” Pomfrey motioned Draco toward you. “Be useful and help her up.”

You looked at Draco suspiciously, but allowed him to help you stand up. Your legs were incredibly weak after not being used for two weeks, and he did most of the work getting you back onto the bed. 

Madame Pomfrey immediately began to examine you. You continued to stare at Draco, who’s eyes were pinned to the floor. “We must be friends, if you were visiting me.” You stated, watching him shift nervously. “Go get me something to eat, my stomach hurts.”

Draco’s eyes shot up at you, and he started to back away from your bed. “I don’t think-”

“Please,” You cut him off, grasping his hand to keep him from leaving. Your eyes begged him. “Can you please get me something to eat?”

Draco nodded, continuing to avoid your eyes. “What would you like?”

“Something soft, easy to chew. Maybe even soup.”

“Soup would be the best choice.” Pomfrey pitched in, peering into your throat. 

“Okay, I’ll be back soon.” Draco cleared his throat and swiftly left the room. As he walked to the dining hall, his mind was running a mile a minute. 

How can she not remember me? Does she not remember anything about the fight? Does she not remember anything about our relationship, or lack thereof? Does she remember anything about Hogwarts? Did I really muck up this bad?

“My mother, she’s still traveling, right?” You questioned Madame Pomfrey. “I’m starting to remember a little. She taught here at some point, correct?”

“Yes, Y/N.” Madame Pomfrey smiled, peering over your stoic expressions. “She taught in your third year. Do you recall which class it was?”

“Herbology, I remember taking it with Harry and Ron, and this other girl… I don’t fully remember.” 

After a few more questions, Madame Pomfrey came to a conclusion. “Well, it seems your amnesia is only temporary. Once I release you, Y/N, you must return if you find yourself unable to recall certain things, or have lasting pain.” She placed a hand on your shoulder and rubbed gently. “You seem to be healing well, but you’ll need to stretch carefully, you haven’t moved in over two weeks.”

Draco returned to the room, looking incredibly suspicious. He exposed a thermos with soup from under his robe. “Here,” He handed you the thermos and a spoon. “It’s mushroom.”

You lit up with joy. “I love mushrooms! Thank you, Draco.” You beamed at him, quickly taking the cup from his hands. 

Draco was shocked to see you smile at him like that, you had never done it before. You’d been enemies from the moment you met. “Y-Yeah, whatever.” He plopped into the chair next to your bed to contemplate on telling you the truth.

Madame Pomfrey came around with a wheelchair. “Draco, if she needs to go anywhere, you’ll take her in this. She’s not quite ready to walk long distances on her own yet.”

Draco shot up from his seat, brows furrowed. “Why do I have to take her around. Can’t the mudblood do it?!”

Pomfrey glared at Draco. “It is part of your punishment for the incident. Do you want to take care of the girl you hurt so badly or do you want three months of detention? It’s your decision, Draco.” 

Pomfrey walked off, leaving Draco and you alone. You looked up at him, a tinge of anger in your eyes. “Huh, so it’s your fault I was in a coma.” You fisted his robe and yanked him toward you. “I think you owe me some explanations, right now.”

“Serves you right to have to babysit me.” You laughed, leaning into the pillows behind you. “You almost killed me, you psychopath. You need some community service.”

“It wasn’t like that, Y/N. You were psychotic too!” Draco exclaimed, laughing softly with you. “Oh, if a teacher had heard the things you said to me, you would’ve been forced to write lines until your hands bled.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re still the one that shoved me down the stairs!”

“You threw the first punch!”

“You slapped me with your dumb metal rings!”

“You gave me a black eye!”

You narrowed your eyes at him, disregarding everything you just said. “Anyway, I only forgive you because you’re hot.” 

Draco gaped at you. “You are a completely different person without your memories.”

You laughed, “that’s kind of how it works, Draco.”

“I-I mean, we were enemies. We loathe each other. You would’ve eaten dirt before ever calling me hot.” He stared at you suspiciously. “There’s no way you don’t remember.”

“I really don’t. I only really remember two other people in all of Hogwarts so far. Pomfrey said I should be regaining my memories… So we’ll see if I still like you in a few days. But for now, I guess we get a fresh start.”