#i had cramps so bad once i couldn't read

[karlachismylife]

Wrote the intro the day I started this work and decided to leave it since it reflects the shitstorm in my head quite well, eh.

Okay Idk what it is with me today (I actually do know, I'm having a bad fucking night as a consequence of my own actions but I prefer not to think about it), but I just thought about task force 141 and reader that has such a bad withdrawal after their orgasm that they actually cry and not in a fun way (cue my lack of understanding how crying in bed can ever be fun, but i'm not here to kinkshame)

CW: NSFW (so minors and ageless blogs DNI, I'll block you), but there's barely any sex, hurt/comfort, body image issues, low self-esteem, chubby/fat!reader, written with afab!reader in mind (but most parts can be read as gn), potential mental health issues (?), thoughts of selfloathing and selfharm, smoking mentioned once at the end. Very self-indulgent and I'm definitely unwell, so yeah. It's also more focused on reader's inner shitstorm than the guys in many places so idk if this even really is enjoyable...

Starts as a single piece, then splits into individual blurbs/drabbles/oneshots + some polyamory cuz I'm spoiling myself today having done nothing to deserve it, lol.

They vary in size and tone since I've been writing them through several ups and downs in my own mental state, so please don't take this as a sign of which characher/combo is my favourite. I'm greedy, I like everything.

This is unfair.

Like, you just had wonderful sex, probably came more than once in a short period of time, ears stuffed with cotton, limbs weak, head spinning... and it keeps spinning, sweet tingling on the skin turning into nasty rushes of cold, muscles too tense, but it's not a cramp.

You feel like shit, every possible hormonal and neuromediator crash downing on you, a hollow, depressing weight in your chest instead of a sweet afterglow. Sweat and cum feel disgusting on you skin, your skin feels disgusting, strangling, your whole body seems revolting, too heavy, too sluggish. A sticky, suffocating heatwave on your nape, but your chest is cold and covered in goosebumps, a feverish feeling clogging every pore. Nausea wrenches into your stomach and stops just before you can relievingly barf and get rid of this parasite inside.

You simply want to dig your nails into your own shoulders instead of his and rip the skin and meat off, free yourself from this burden (you're the burden). Each second as he stays blissfully unaware, holding you tightly with his big hands and panting into the crook of your neck, drags on like a hundred hours of pure torture - the torture of being yourself.

Throwing up feels like an appropriate reaction to how unappealing and ugly you feel.

You're spiraling. You couldn't fucking keep your own messed up emotional outburst - completely unreasonable and unprovoked, by the way - to yourself, and now it's going to be noticed. You'll ruin someone else's fun. Make it all about yourself when you've already been nothing but doted on, cared and provided for. Fucked so good that your body is still clenching around that magnificent cock deep inside you.

And you're fucking crying, like an ungrateful, egotistical brat. Never having enough, unable to provide something as simple as a hole to make someone else happy without fucking it up.

Ghost notices immediately. There's nothing that can escape this man, and definitely not his love's distress. He's not reacting immediately for a sole reason: he's frozen in fear, horrified that he made you cry. How - he's not sure, he always takes great care to stay within limits, never allows himself to push you further than you both agree on. But what if he slipped up? What if he got carried away? Did he cause pain? Did he say something hurtful in the heat of the moment?

"Fuck. Hey, hey, lovie... look at me... wha's wrong? Did I... did I hurt ya?" Good thing you're hiding your face and your red eyes so desperately that you can't see how distressed and downright terrified Simon looks, lost at the sight of your tears. When you shake your head and attempt to push him away to hide your pathetic sobbing, he somewhat calms down and brings his big calloused hands to cradle your face, gently prying your own palms away and holding your puffy cheeks tenderly. His thumbs brush your tears away as he holds you, holds you through the growing rage fit of touch aversion, through the shudders and actual wailing. At some point he moves his palm to cover your eyes, a dry, dark blinder to keep the world around you shut out, help you concentrate on his voice.

He's not talking, just humming, a familiar, deep, grumbling noise that soothes all the flashes of anger, hate and disgust in your brain. You're tired now, like you're always are after such an intense outburst, and as you go limp, he finally pulls away, only to pick you up - barely a strain, a direct spit in the face of your own insecurity - and bring you to the bathroom. A warm shower evens your distorted body temperature out, his hands running over your body and cleaning all the stickiness away bring back peace with your own skin. After a quick rinse Simon holds you, your head cradled against his chest, until you make a weak attempt to help him wash too - he lets you trace his body, that perfection you adore with all its old wounds, sores and scars, for a bit, and then finishes himelf.

Gives you fresh cotton underwear and his hige T-shirt, still holding you around your shoulders and keeping the comfortable pressure even while he changes the bedsheets, kissing your temple as you find it in yourself to help.

It's only after you settle on top of him, nice, clean comforter protecting your back against the world, head on his chest right next to his heart beating in a steady rythm, he finally breaks silence.

"Need anything else, lovie?" Just like that. No prying, no occusations, nothing that would put you on the spot. You can ask him to bring you the moon soaked in unicorn's milk, and he'll just nod, kiss your hand and start dressing up, already calling Johnny to ask where the fuck did Scots hide their last horned horse and if he happens to know where they enlist astronauts.

"Just you."

His grip on the small of your back tightens and you feel his uneven, scarred lips graze the top of your head.

"Ya've got me. Always."

Soap is running hot like a furnace, still shivering and panting after what he considers the best sex he has ever had (every time with you is). He lifts his face, buried into the crease of your neck previously, and starts peppering you with slightly sloppy, grateful kisses - your neck, your jaw, your lips, your...

When he tastes your tears and opens his unbelievably blue eyes to see your expression contorted in disgust, he panics. Pulls away immediately, hands both itching to grab you and shake a reason for that look on your face out of you and too scared to touch you in case this hatred is directed at him.

"Whit's wrong, leannan? Are ye a'right? Ye didnae lik' it? Shite, lass, Ah'm so sorry, Ah didnae mean tae-" He stops yapping only when he notices the way your lips tremble as you try to plead with him, sobbing that it's not his fault.

"'M sorry, I ruined it... I'm so sorry, sushine, I just... fuck I wish I wasn't so bloody sick in the head and ugly..." Speaking out loud only worsens your anger, directed solely at yourself, and you try to wipe your eyes furiously. As the tears keep rolling, your frustration only grows - maybe if you yanked your own hair really good or slapped the disgusting pudgy cheek you've despised ever since chidhood as everyone kept pointing out how big they were...

"Ye didnae just call the love of mah fucking life ugly." Johnny's voice is a mix of a harsh order to cut your bullshit and pure disbelief. His huge paws wrap themselves around your wrists, stopping you both from harming yourself and covering your face. You're forced to look at him, and as you do, you see his handsome face flushed with a passionate anger at the intrusive thoughts in your head, heavy frown in his thick eyebrows and the sea in his eyes dark and deep enough to drown a whole fleet. You'd be scared if it wasn't obvious how hurt he is underneath it all - like a kid whose favourite plushie just got mocked by his classmates.

"It's just a toy," adults would say, and they would be bloody wrong.

"Tis not a toy, tis mah friend."

You're his friend. His love. His heart, his soul, his everything - he whispers that frantically, kissing you over and over, hot palms running over your body, wiping the cold, the stickiness, the goosebumps away. You don't have time to think, to spiral again, you're drowning in that exact sea that's spilling from his eyes, staring at you with pure devotion - a sea of affection, admiration, love, love, love.

Johnny nuzzles up to you like an animal seeking comfort, hides into your chest, right after he kisses your sweaty double chin, breathes in deeply, lets go of your soft shoulders only to grab two handfuls of your tummy, kneading it, warming up the stale blood, squeezing your big thighs between his and getting lost in the frenzy - he honestly doesn't even remember already that he was comforting you, he's fully in the worshipping mode, leaving you no chance to dip even a single toe into the self-conscious thoughts again.

You'll just have to stay there, every single tear lapped up from your face, and accept every greedy touch and word of a man utterly in love with you. Even the messed up parts.

Gaz keeps his cool despite how distraught even the thought of your sadness makes him. First of all he moves aside to give you space, makes sure you're not hurt, asking in his usual kind - unbelievably kind, so much that you burst into tears again, feeling undeserving of such unapologetically soft treatement, tone.

"Shh, shush, gorgeous, you're not hurt, are you? It's okay, c'mere, jus-st like tha', very good, love," praises keep spilling from his tender lips as he carefully helps you sit up, simply dragging you away from the damp from sweat and everything else spot on the sheets. He ends up balancing half his bare ass off the edge of the bed, but it doesn't bother him in the slightest as he feels you already coming back from that hopeless place as soon as your body gets stuck between clean, dry and a bit cool sheet and Kyle's firm lean body of a litearal god - or a prince, at least.

His deft fingers are already at work, massaging your scalp, chasing the tension away, but the second he feels you grow uncomfortable with the repetitive movement, he stops and retreats to simply holding you in a steady, reliant embrace. You know he's good with his words, that's how he got you, swept off your feet completely and made you swoon with sweet compliments, hilarious snark and smart talk.

You just don't expect him to do it all over again in the face of your burdened mind crumbling in the paradise.

"Talk to me, angel. Let me inside that pretty head, hm?"

It takes this sweettalker just a couple of words to coax whatever that ugly, slimy knot in your throat is, out. You sob, retelling Kyle every single thought that has been stuck in that coagulated mess in your head, spill the bile that has been burning your retching throat, out in the open, for him to see the disgusting ugliness of your insides - matching your outside.

Somehow throughout your choking trade his soft, careful hand never leaves your back, rubbing circles of different radius and intensity into your skin to keep the aggression at monotonous touch at bay.

"Must've been some terrible person to overbear your spirit and plant all those lies in your mind, angel." You don't catch the meaning of his words at first, glancing at him confused and whoozy after you exploded with self-deprication. Those dark, calm eyes look at you no different than before: quiet, calm reverence and determination. A thread of spider's silk, thin as a hair, but stronger than steel, his love does not waver. Were you in the right state to actually pay attention, you would've seen it only grow.

"Well, beautiful, this isn't how I planned to start writing poetry, but since you insisted... maybe I can think of a diss track about you."

"A diss track?.." Poor you, so upset that you can't catch onto the mischievous glint in his eyes and that silly smooth sarcasm slipping into his words. You're actually half a step away from believing he would diss you, destroying that already non-existent self-esteem once and for all.

"Yup. Gotta diss-tract you from all that bullshit in your head for good. Unless you'd rather me fuck it out of you instead?"

You cannot not smile at that, even if it's a weak, timid smile. Kyle's face still lights up as if he sees an actual angel, bringing the good grace or whatever.

"There ya go. First step of the mission? Success. Permission to continue? I repeat, permission to continue?"

"You spend too much time with Simon. Permission granted..."

Price undrstands what's going on before he even hears your first sob, the tension in your body and the change in your breath telling him all he needs to know. There's enough experience in this man for the both of you, he has learnt to read people and immediately accomodate them in a way that serves a common goal so long ago that it's a secong nature already.

Your comfort is that common goal.

With a grunt, he rolls you over, planting you firmly on top of his warm, burly body. Untucking your head from his hairy chest, he holds your face and does not let you concentrate on anything but his stern, focued gaze under those bushy eyebrows - but there's still that undeniable tenderness in his eyes that's always there whenever John looks at you.

His voice sounds usual too: a calm, commanding, but not harsh tone, not a loud bark any of his subordinates would hear, yet still an order. "Look at me, darling. Tha's right, look at me, look at your John. You shut whatever's going through that troubled mind of yours out and let me take care of the rest, a'right? Can you do that for me, darling? I know you can. I'll do all the thinking for ya, eh?"

Giving control over to him feels natural at any other moment, but right now you're too deep in the trenches of the war with your own mind, hissing at you with pure disgust for being so selfish. Really, now? Had to use this sweet, caring man for your own needs, and now you're dumping all your perverted, fucked up baggage on him too?

"Nuh-huh, ya're still thinking. Told ya to cut if off. You know that's not you thinking right now, dontcha? You're a smart one, love, ya know shit like this happens. And when shit happens, who are you going to to deal with it, huh?" His deep voice rumbles in his chest, seeps into your clogged ears, fills your skull with the unyielding determination and leaves no room for your own dark thoughts.

When you hesitate to answer, John slides his rough palms over your back, tracing your soft rolls and landing onto the pudge of your hips, squeezing lightly to remind you who's in charge and what your task is. "Who is there for ya to deal with shit that happens, hm, darling? Need ya to tell me."

You want to hide, escape his demand for an answer, but he keeps you firmly in his embrace, a gaze of steel unmoving from you. It almost makes you tear up again, almost feels mean of him to put you on the spot, when all you want to do is curl up in a dark corner and stay there for all eternity. But the love you have for this man overpowers even the seething hatred you bear for yourself, so you give up and murmur meekly: "You..."

"Tha's right, darling, it's your John. I'm here to deal with everything that bothers ya. Everything, ya hear? Tha's me job. Your job is to stay wit' me 'n' not overthink, eh? Especially not when it's just hormons making ya feel bad." You have nothing else left to do, other than sniffle into his chest and melt under a warm kiss he plants on your crown. "How about a cuppa, eh, darling? And something just as sweet as ya for a bite. Ya'll feel better in no time, I promise."

Ghost and Soap cancel each other's panicking out. As soon as both you and Simon slip out of the sweet afterglow, falling backwards each into your own pit of self-doubt and spiraling, Johnny starts babbling, terrified at the thought of both his beloved people feeling worse after being with him. His slurred, panting words and frantic kisses help Simon shake of his own horror - in return, he squeezes Johnny's shoulder to slow the worried mutt down and redirect his energy into helping you. Soap tenses up under the firm touch of his Lieutenant, then relaxes again, leaning into him for a moment to collect himself - they charge from each other, mere seconds of feeding off each other's energies in the middle of a time-limited mission with the highest stakes: your well-being.

They exchange glances, no words needed after the way their work together almost makes them mindreaders to each other, and turn back to you as you lay there, face painfully contorted in an attempt to keep the black foamy bile you feel rising in your throat from spilling. Slow, sticky, angry tears run down your flabby cheeks, and with each millimetre they go, your scalding wish to gouge your eyes out with your bare hands grows, just to punish yourself for being ungrateful after two perfect men spent so much of their time making you feel good.

"Dinnae cry, bonnie. Ye're a'right, ye're 'ere, wit' us. Right, LT? We're nae gonnae let ye marinate in whitevur got ye so upset." The pressure from inside your body that threatened to burst you open into a messy explosion of bile and rot, gets evened out from outside by Johnny's tight hug. He squeezes you up to the painful point, cradling against his broad chest, holding the fort while Simon leaves the bed, but not without kissing both your palms and holding them against his lips until he feels the cold leave your fingertips.

"Oi, Johnny. Help lovie get in 'ere," he calls out several minutes later out of the bathroom. Soap, who has been holding you and allowing you to sob against his heart this whole time, stroking your sweaty hair and murmuring every word of love he knows, scoops you up immediately. He pads over with you in his arms to where a warm bath is already filled thanks to Simon, and when you react to the temperature with another wave of tears, they both reach out to the tap simultaneously.

"Is tha' a'right, bonnie?" You make a strangled noise as Johnny finally sets you down into much cooler now water. It soothes you, makes you feel instantly cleaner, smaller, lighter. Breathing gets easier, that swollen blob of anger and disgust shrinking down in your chest and allowing you to inhale bathroom's damp air normally. You open your mouth to apologize and get cut off before even a single syllable leaves your mouth.

"Don't," Simon's voice sounds gruff, but even his murky reflection in the rippling water looks genuinely soft towards you. They're both perched on the cold bath edge, naked and seemingly not caring about that at all. "Jus' let us take care of you, yeah, love? Tha's what we're here for. Tha's what we want to do."

"Well, actually, there's one more thing," Johnny interjects, causing you to finally lift your sullenly lowered head and look at him, Simon's big palm using this moment of distraction to press onto your back in silent support. "Can Ah make ye a foam beard? Please, bonnie? Ye jus' 'ave the prettiest sweetest cheeks fur tha'."

Soap and Gaz feel like their world is sinking into a whirlwind of stormy clouds, the kind that sucks all light out of sky in mere seconds and can't be cut through even by blinding flashes of lightnings. There is no sun in their skies if you're not smiling, and the sound of your muffled sniffles hits their eardrums harder than thunder or explosions. The frowns distorting their faces only make you more self-aware of the fact that you ruined things between you - the initial hysteria starts rapidly flowing into complete shutdown, threatening to turn you into an emotionless shell for unknown period of time, when several warm, big hands intervene and cut the depressing trajectory down at its root.

"Damn, we did a shit job fucking all your thoughts out, didn't we, angel?" Kyle's joke sounds soft, teasing, but empathetic, ready to be met with sobs or silence instead of the usual laughter that flashes your teeth at him and makes his own smile grow brighter.

"Aye, we did. If anythin', Ah think we put more thoughts intae 'ere instead," Johnny scratches his head dramatically, and then you feel his big, hot palm on you sweaty forehead, as if he's trying to get a feel of the thoughts inside your skull. It doesn't linger there for long, though, rough fidgety fingers digging into your hair and tugging at the roots. This makes the hot-and-cold collar around your nape unclench, uncouth and chaotic massage confidently pulling every ounce of anger out of your brain. From time to time his calloused palm slips lower, squeezing your scruff, wiping the cool sweat away and taking control over what seems to have escaped your own.

"How does it feel to be the first person to get knocked up mentally, love? Having any cravings yet? Feeling your brainworms kick yet?" Dry cotton comforter suddenly covers your exposed to be looked at with disdain body, and before you can choke out a protest and something about you being sweaty and sticky and disgusting, Kyle grips your shoulders firmly, rubbing up and down as he slowly helps you sit up a bit.

"Ye eejit, how dae ye think thay can kick? They're brainworms, thay dinnae hae any legs!" The sheer passion in Johnny's heated counterarguement does the impossible - makes the corners of your deeply upset mouth twitch against all the weight the sadness put on them. Your knights in shining (from all the sweat your lovemaking covered them with) armor of their own warm skin seem to not notice the slightest twitch of your lips - there's no excessive attention drawn to you, none of them puts you on the spot. Their touch isn't going anywhere, but it almost seems mindless, simply their need to have something soft and pleasant to squeeze in their restless hands. "'N' wasnae Mary th' first lassie tae get up th' duff through th' heid?"

"That wasn't mentally, that was spiritually, read your books, Soap," scoffs Kyle, as if it was the most obvious thing, and ducks just in time to avoid a pillow thrown at him with sniper's precision.

"Oi, ye sayin' Ah cannae read now?!" Whatever snarky retort Kyle was ready to shoot, gets wiped out as Johnny tackles him, barely avoiding pushing all three of you off the bed. Their scuffle consists of chokeholds and sneaky kisses, legs getting caught in the sheets and somehow tangling you into the mess too.

Until you laugh, finding yourself squished into Johnny's hairy chest with Kyle in a gently headlock somewhere under your arm.

"Hey, hey, careful, mate, our lovie's expecting, we can't just throw 'em around!" However obvious that deflection is, Johnny reacts as if you were actually with child and grabs your face, boring his eyes into yours, slowly widening his two blue lochs in pretend horror.

"Och naw! Ah think we lost 'em, Ah cannae see nothin' there now!" Flushed after the playfight, you avert your gaze, still a trace of self-consciousness about yout outburst somewhere deep inside, but none of the "brainworms" that clogged your insides in sight indeed. Johnny's little drama earns him a soft nip on his thumb from you, and he smiles at you, clearly satisfied with the effect their little scheme had.

"Aw, damn, and here I was, ready to hear the pitter-patter of 'em little feet," Kyle's warm lips somehow find their way to kiss your temple, eliciting another shy giggle.

A pillow crashes onto both of you with the force of a small bombshell.

"THAY DINNAE HAE FEET, GARRICK, THAY'RE WORMS!"

Price and Gaz fall into their usual ways seamlessly, responsibilities and tasks split between the two seemingly without even any verbal communication. Clearing out the space around you with the same quick efficiency they clear out enemies with, they prop you up on some pillows, assess your condition in case they got carried away and hurt you, and finally settle on both sides of you, warm hands on your knees squeezing softly.

"Are ya gonna talk to us now, lovie? Or will we have to use interrogation tactics to learn what made our love so upset?" John's voice bears no trace of threat, but it still makes you cower and try to take up even less space that your curled up body already has, which earns you a sigh from the Captain. "I see. Take over from here, Sergeant. I expect results once I return."

The matress sighs with relief a Price's weight leaves it, bare feet padding a few steps before he reaches his slippers and leaves the room. The pit that the sound of your bedroom's door closing opens in your chest is crushing your ribcage with the iron fist of vacum. You can't blame John for not willing to deal with your bullshit, but the hearbreak only reenforces the choking smog in your head that's rasping in a hundred different voices that the only thing you deserve is pure repulsion.

Kyle's soft thumb pads wipe the tears teetering on the arrows of your lashes, and in a smooth movement you find your face cupped and pulled close to his shoulder. His smooth skin sticks to your wet cheek and you find yourself crying like a little kid, the unbearable pain of the revolting dark knots inside somehow replaced with surprisingly more bearable grief over what you consider an ending reltionship. Perhaps John leaving our bed finally shattered your heart, letting the ungodly pressure out and allowing it to beat - and bleed - again.

"We'd really like if ya talked to us, angel. Don't think Captain can stand there bare-ass naked much longer, might catch rheumatism at this point, he's not getting younger, you know..."

"I hope you know I can hear you perfecrly clear, Garrick." You stop mid-sniffle, eyes snapping to the closed door. You can finally see the shadow of a man standing just outside, and the air slowly feels with some flavour you can't distinguish through all the snot yet, but seem to like a lot...

"Good, so your hearing's still intact, sir. You're in good shape," Kyle's cheeky remark must've broken John's famous patience and restraint, because the bedroom door finally opens, and you see him there. With a tray with a whole bunch of tea mugs and little plates of treats balanced in his hands.

"Still not talking? Well, we'll try another method then, lovie. Sandwich for your thoughts, eh?"

His cheeks are round with a kind smile, confusing your tortured mind even further - Kyle uses your stupor to fetch John's big, slightly scratchy bathrobe, successfully wrapping you into a cocoon of grounding stimulation all over your feverish skin. With a huff and a grumble about staying butt-naked a bit longer, John puts a pleasantly warm mug into your hands and looks at you, arms crossed and tucked into his armpits now that he got rid of the tray.

Expecting an answer.

"'M sorry..." seems appropriate right up to the moment when a little finger-sandwich gets shoved into your mouth. The bread is soft, nice, salty ham and crunchy cucumber filling your senses and cracking a bit fat line of light right in the middle of the dense cloud in your thoughts.

"Try again, love," Kyle gives a hint and wipes a crumb off your lips, licking it off his thumb. "We don't need an apology, we just want to know what's troubling ya. John, tell 'em."

"Already did," grumbles Price in response and clears his throat, sitting back down on the creaking bed. "Food's working though. Eat up, darling, get your energy. Then we'll talk properly, a'right?"

You chew slowly, still stiff in your own body, but regaining control gradually. Yes. Then you'll talk.

Ghost and Price exchange a single glance over your from, choking on the self-destructive rage, and John shakes his head so slightly that one can barely notice, but it's clear enough to stop Simon from tumbling down the traumatic spiral staircase of his own. Grounded by his Captain's presence, he shrugs his broad shoulders, shaking off the creeping up feeling of his own monsterous nature, and rolls onto his back, pulling you out of the miserable wet ball of wrinkled sheets and onto his firm lap, sideways, his big palms resting comfortably around your hips; he's not squeezing or digging his fingers into the fat like he usually does, but it's a secure hug you can't really escape.

Exposed held too far away from his chest you could hide on, you shrink, rising your shoulders protectively and trying to cover up your soft belly, spilling over your pelvis in a shapless manner - that's when John's arms come from behind, catching yours and instead of pulling away forcefully, simply repeating your own safety cocoon, hiding your body from your distorted sight and keeping you warm.

"You're not thinking straight right now, darling," every phrase he murmurs gently, calmly, convincingly into your ear is accompanied by a little kiss, beard tickling and burning your already irritated by tears skin. "So good for us, so kind. Can you spare some of that kindness for yourself?"

Even though it doesn't sound like a rhethorical question, Simon cups your cheek and shushes you tenderly, pressing his thumb to your lips, allowing John to continue with his little speech aimed to dispel the storm coagulated in your chest.

"'Cos if not, it's a'right, love. We know it's hard, and ya're doing good already. Ya 'ave us, eh? To love ya, to cherish ya. No need to overthink, jus' let us hold you, a'right?"

He finally pushes you onto Simon's chest, his big heart stuttering with worry as you seek shelter among his many scars that paint a horrifying picture once you put all the fragments together.

"How'd you do that, sir?" Simon's voice sounds vulnerable - so much that it strikes through all the layers of your egocentric self-hatred and shifts you almost immeditely into a completely different mindset; one where you throw your whole self into loving your scarred and battle-worn men in such abundance that it's ought to compensate for all the unfairness they've gone through.

There's no need for it now, you realize a little too late: Price is there, keeping Simon away from the darkness. They're fine. Better than ever. It's a distraction, a trick, a play to make your bleeding heart stop the internal self-destruction and turn to healing.

A sly little switch you're not sure they were planning to flip, but it worked.

"Hm?" As if emerging from the depths of his thoughts in response to Simon's question, John caresses your cheek as gently as his rough thumb can and then smiles, maybe catching onto the change in your mood or simply remembering all the times he pulled Ghost out of the same gloom and darkness. "Jus' taking care of me own, Simon. Tha's what a Captain does, no? Now, love, how about a shower? I reckon we can squeeze in all together and papmer you really good, what do ya say, eh?"

Ghost and Gaz manage to keep their cool. Kyle's confident and gentle presence serves to reassure any doubts Simon has about hurting you, he shoots a single glance at his sergeant and recieves support immediately. Two pair of hands cradle you with all the tenderness two soldiers are capable of, which is always enough to drown you in fully. It's a tight hug, a hot mess of limbs, too much skin on skin contact that makes your brain flare with undirected rage, but as seconds trickle by and you're still trapped between two firm bodies, you have no choice but to slip into the exhaustion phase of your outburst.

It's not pleasant, nor could you say you feel calm; if anything, you just petrify, a permanent frown on your face and blindly staring forward glass eyes. You're tired, you'd still rather be anywhere but inside your own body that still feels like a useless deformed bag that should be gutted and emptied to lighten up, inner layer of your skin scrubbed with a knife to peel off the suffocating thickness of fat trapping this heated rage inside...

Instead, you get a kiss.

It's Kyle, soft, full lips touching your wet with tears cheekbone, then again - your temple, your cheek, the overheated spot behind your ear. They're light, soft kisses, too gentle to be playful or arousing. Calming. They do not demand anything in return - he allows you to stay in your inner world where you feel secure, even pauses to kiss Simon the same way right in front of your eyes. A silent demonstrationg of the love and reverence these pecks carry, Simon's hooded eyes fluttering shut as if his own compartmentalized demons get exorcised by Garrick's touch.

"Wanna talk about it, angel?" Kyle's voice rumbles at a nice, grounding, smooth timbre, and your still-too-slow mind struggles to grasp how is it possible that he's talking and you're still getting kisses - until you recognize the uneven texture of Simon's scarred lips, trailing along your skin tenderly. "Whenever you're ready, love. But we would love to know what's going through your head right now."

It feels strange to say it out lound when you're held and caressed like this, but their kisses and solid embrace cleared your windpipe enough of the mental gunk for you to be able to speak.

"I hate myself... 'M disgusting, and-" A displeased grumbling kiss from Simon interrupts you, and even Kyle pushes his huge shoulder to reprimand his own Lieutenant for the interference. Kisses his temple immediately to make amends, though, and turns back to you, prompting you to continue.

"Wot? Don't like when someone talks shit 'bout mine," grumbles Simon like a dog that got flicked on the nose for growling at welcome guests.

"Let 'em talk, mate, it's good to get things off your chest." At least their little bickering coaxes a tiniest hint of smile out of you, and Simon, noticing it immediately, stares back at Kyle with such pride, as if he just did something great.

The thing is, in the way his arms squeeze you a tad bit tighter, pressing into his firm body, you can read that for him - your smile is the greatest achievement.

"Don't tell me you prefer his silent treatement, angel, I'm trying to be the attentive boyfriend here, and for what?" Your smile grows a little braver. A little brighter. You would've kept talking if you could remember what it was that hurt so fucking much in your chest.

"Shower. Then a cuppa. Then we have the talk." No one dares to argue with the Ghost and his gruff commands. You feel the sheet sticking to your skin as he lifts you up, Kyle already sneaking off to prepare towels and clean clothes for you three. He'll stay with you and help you wash the remaints of the mind attack off. Simon will make fresh tea.

You're going to be alright.

Price and Soap take quite an intense approach the second they notice your distress. You feel Johnny's weight disappear from you after the first strangled sob that escapes you, and if you could open your eyes glued shut by the hot, messy tears, you would see John practically dragging the poor Sergeant away by his scruff. It's easy to suspect that Johnny couldn't contain himself and went too hard, too rough on you - with no malice, but pure passion that's spilling from his big, hot heart every time he gets to be close to you.

But it's not Johnny's fault, neither is it John's. It's all you, a useless, pathetic thing, good for nothing and holding two gorgeous men to yourself like a greedy glutton hoarding delicious food.

"Ah'm sorry, bonnie- ow, Ah got it, Ah got it, Ah'm not touchin'!"

"Did we hurt ya, love? Was Johnny boy too rough wit' ya? Wha's wrong?"

You feel big warm hands gliding over your skin, quick assessment of your state in search of potential harm caused. This immediate care only makes you feel worse, every cold sweaty patch of your disgusting hide shivering and twitching under Captain's careful touch. You struggle against your own spiraling anger, fight it with what's left of your exhausted resilience - and lose, curling up with another burst of tears, shoving the loving hands away and dusting the lingering warmth off your body.

After all, you do not deserve to be treated with such kindness after the fit you just threw.

"No, no, no, it's not his fault, it's not Johnny's... it's me, it's my fault, it's all my fault, I ruin everything, I'm- I'm disgusting!"

The silence that follows you blowing up on them is heavy. Just as bad as the knot in your chest.

"Johnny."

When you open your eyes to find a way out, run away, scatter and hide in the furthest corner of the apartment until everyone who tried caring for you leaves again, you're met with Johnny's bright blue eyes, glistening with unshed tears.

It's a shocking sight, pushing you out of the muffled misery into an alerted worry - his face is red with unexplainable pained anger, fists clenched as John holds him tightly by hunched shouders, seemingly trying to prevent a violent outburst.

"Ah wanntae ken names of th' bastarts who made ye feelin' tis wa'. Ah swear Ah will mak' thaim fuckin' choke oan thair ain tongues, Ah'll rip thair spines oot 'n' shove thaim up thair-" - "Enough, Johnny. Stand down. This won't solve anythin'. Ya calm down and help our lovie feel better, a'right?"

Still a bit shells-hocked, you stir on the bedsheets and push yourself up to sit upright, stretching your arms hesitantly to the men in a weak attempt to remedy whatever shitstorm you caused in their minds.

"Don't get mad, please," you whisper sheepishly, and the shy sound of your still choked voice seems to wash Johnny's explosive anger away better than the firm grip of his handler's (Price's) hands. With a look of a beaten dog, Johnny huffs loudly, cuddlng up to you and hiding his face in your lap. His heavy jaw sinks in the plush of your thighs, accomodated nicely with the softness of your body.

"'M nae mad at ye, leannan. Jus' dinnae say tha' again, a'right, bonnie? If ye need me tae prove ye-"

"No..." your hand finds it place in his damp mohawk and brushes through, while you glance at John. His eyes are shimmering with love and love only as he looks at you and Johnny, and you feel a wave of shyness - the good, giddy, warm kind - replacing the paralyzing shame. "I'm fine already. With you."

"Maybe we should 'ave a little chat 'bout it, love," John's hand meets yours on the sad mutt's head in your lap, intertwinig fingers with you through Johnny's soft hair. "When ya feel better. Jus' so we know what we're dealing with, eh?"

"Yeah. A bit later. Thank you."

All four of your men get frozen witnessing your reaction, struck with a horrifying sense of helplessness - it feels like the biggest failure among many unsuccessful missions, operations where lives were lost and enemies missed, to have you curling up and crying in misery between all the love they've been pouring onto you just mere seconds ago. As if everything they touch is bound to go up in flames, drown in blood and rot, be it on the outside or from the inside.

They're lost, and as always, they turn to the Captain, giving themselves up for him to direct, trusting that he knows better what use they can be of.

And, frankly, he does.

They're barely talking, but the commotion around you is decipherable even through the red mind fog and closed eyes - it honestly only makes you feel worse, unsafe, exposed, despite that simply being Soap, sent off to fill a bath ("Ye want it hot or a tad bit cool, bonnie?" - Silence. Your nails dig into your scalp, the soud of someone simply breathing, even more so talking to you, sending you into a new fit of rage. "Make it warm, Johnny, we'll adjust later."), and Simon, leaving for tea duty - silently, your favourite way to have it attentively observed in the first two weeks you've been together and memorized ever since.

It's Kyle whose voice, murmuring into your ear sweet, reassuring nothings as he keeps you caged in a tight embrace, your back pressed against his warm chest, forces you out of the highly irritable state. You have no choice between his short, chaste kisses on the crown of your overloaded head, and John's calloused hands massaging your calves, soft flesh dipping under the firm pressure.

"Ya jus' focus on fighting tha' storm off, a'right, darling? We'll take care of th' rest. It happens, we know it does, 's not your fault. Jus' a funny lil' thing your mind does, eh? Yeah, love, we know wha' it's like when your mind does funny things. Don't we, Kyle?"

"That we do." Maybe it's just your own depressive state rubbing off on them or distorting your perception, but Kyle's voice sounds almost solemn. You would turn to look into the smoky quartz of his eyes, but either he holds you too tight, or you have barely any strength left in your upset body - you simply can't.

Maybe it's alright. Maybe tonight they don't need you ripping your heart out to tend to their restless minds, and you can just allow them to take care of you.

Allow Kyle to carry you to the bathroom.

Allow John to stay there and help you wash yourself with a nice, scrubby loofah.

Allow Johnny to bring in his huge, baggy loungewear that doesn't hug your curves too snugly and allows you to simply forget what you were so angry about for a while.

Allow Simon to serve you perfect temperature tea in your favourite mug and keep you quiet company on the balcony, night air cooling your wet and clean now skin and hair further and blowing all thoughts out of your troubled head away.

As you share a cigarette with rich clove aftertaste, breathing ironically becomes easier. Behind your back the bedsheets are being changed, proper meal is being cooked, a good movie you won't be upset falling asleep to is being chosen.

"Simon." - "Hm." - "You sure you're okay with me being like that?" - "Standin' in the wind with your hair wet, tryin' to catch a cold?"

You grunt, not appreciating him taking the piss while you're tryig to be vulnerable, but allow him to pull the hood of Johnny's hoodie onto your head.

"No. I mean, fucked up in the head?"

You don't actually know what answer you expect. With an unreadable expression, Simon turns his head, looking through the glass door at the men crowded in the living room and waiting for you, and then stares back at you with a smirk, a permanent scowl carved into it by someone's cruel hand.

"Nah. Tha's how I like 'em."

He throws the cigarette butt away and chuckles, cupping the back of your head and pulling you inside, into the warmth of home.

"Oi, bonnie! C'mere, As saved ye a spot." There is no spot as you look at the two-story cuddle pile on the sofa and the blanket nest in front of it, unless of course... ah, yes, Johnny's patting his lap. "Ah promise Ah'll behave. Mostly."

And as his warmth envelops you through a big hug, his hands clenched humbly on your belly and behaving indeed, you feel stupidly happy.

Because you're enjoying touch again.

[the-modern-typewriter]

Can you PLEASEEE write a Hero x Villain only one bed trope! Love ya

"Did you know that single people, on holiday, often pay more than couples because all of the hotel industry is built around the assumption of shared rooms and beds?"

The villain turned their attention from the double bed, the only bed in the room, and back to the hero. They blinked. Once, slow, deliberate.

The hero's met their gaze. "Down with amatonormativity?"

"You're sleeping on the floor."

"Oh, come on. It's not my fault! This is the only room they had."

"You're a hero. Be heroic and heroically take the floor."

"I'm not sure my being a good person extends that far," the hero said, eyeing said floor. "There's not even any carpet."

"Well, we can't share!"

"Only child, huh?"

"Don't fish for information about me."

The hero's lip twitched with a maddening and entirely too endearing amusement. "If you're worried about me attacking you in your sleep, I don't think my being on the floor is going to save you."

"I don't think - it's not that -" The villain felt colour rise up their face. They folded their arms. "It's not weird that I don't want to share a bed with you."

The hero's head tilted, studying them for a long moment, before they shrugged. "Fine. Bed's yours. I'll grab the chair."

The villain eyed the chair. It only looked fractionally more comfortable than the floor; less hard, but also significantly more cramped given the hero was hardly small.

"So, what," they demanded. "You'd be just fine sharing with me?"

"It's just a bed," the hero said. "I'm going to be unconscious, all things going well."

"What if we accidentally end up touching each other?"

"I already said you could have the bed."

"Well, now I feel bad!" the villain snapped. "I'm taking the chair. I don't need more reasons to encourage your sanctimonious attitude!"

With that, they strode into the small shared bathroom to change and firmly locked the door.

When they returned, the hero had already fetched a spare blanket from the cupboard. It was large-enough, if a little worn. They'd squished themselves onto the chair.

"I said I'm taking the chair," the villain said. "My god. Do you have to win at everything?"

"I know I got us into this mess."

The villain stopped short, not expecting the quiet words.

"I can take the chair," the hero said. "Not being sanctimonious. It's really just fine, okay? I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable or whatever."

The hero looked up at them, with an expression that the villain couldn't quite read. Whatever it was seemed earnest.

The villain swallowed.

They got into the bed, on the side furthest from the hero and the chair. They switched the lights off. They heard the hero shift and shuffle, trying to get comfortable. The villain could see the beautiful curve of their face illuminated in a small shaft of moonlight, the hunch of their shoulders, when they glanced over.

The villain glared at the dark ceiling for several long minutes.

"...Just get in the bed."

"What?"

"Get in. We can share."

"Are you sure?"

"Don't make me say it again. You look ridiculous. Like a lion trying to fit into a shoebox."

"If it fits, it sits."

"Well, you obviously don't fit!"

A brief silence passed, before the villain heard the hero move and felt the mattress dip. The hero kept to the far side of the bed, oh so respectfully, but the villain could still feel every inch of space between them. They folded their arms across their chest.

"Would it help to tell me what you're worried is going to happen?" the hero asked.

"No."

"Okay."

Another brief silence passed. "Is the thought of accidentally touching me really that hideous to you?" the hero asked.

Their voice was different in the darkness. Softer, somehow.

"Is the thought of accidentally touching me really that hideous to you?!"

"No?" the hero sounded bewildered. "I never said it was?"

The villain ground their teeth, even as their stomach gave a stupid little flip. "Just shut up and go to sleep."

"Goodnight."

The villain couldn't remember the last time anyone had ever wished them that. It caught them unexpectedly, in the gut and the throat. Winded. Fatal wound.

They glanced over at the hero again. They had their eyes closed, seeming perfectly at ease now that they were no longer scrunched up.

No. It wouldn't be hideous to touch them, not at all. It wouldn't be ghastly at all to roll across the expanse of mattress and wrap their arms around the hero's stupidly broad body, to nestle their face against the hero's shoulder, to hold the solidness of them.

Accident-smachident. The villain hated everything.

The hero fell asleep within ten minutes. The villain listened to the steady metronome of their breath, aching. Three hours later, the hero made a soft sleepy little sound and rolled, nuzzling their head against the villain's chest. A tangle of limbs.

The villain snagged their phone off the side table and held it up to take a selfie, making sure to look as unimpressed as possible. Just in case. For the morning. So the hero would know they didn't start it.

Then, and only then, did they finally melt and fall into the sweetest sleep they'd had in a long time.

Bonus:

[chrattslut]

Soft!bf!chris x fem!gf!reader

summary: you're having bad period cramps and chris comforts you by getting you your favorite snacks and cuddling you.

warnings: fluff, pet names (baby), comforting, kissing.

a/n: hii this is my first time ever writing any form of fan fiction and im a little nervous to start but here we are. I will be starting a taglist so if you want to be added just comment under this post and you will be added for my next fic. if you have any advice for me or any recommendations feel free to message me or leave a comment. enough yapping, hope you enjoy my first fic!!

You were currently in Chris' room laying in his bed curled up into a little ball under his blankets with one of his fresh love hoodies and sweatpants. You were watching your favorite show but your cramps were so bad that you couldn't even move, Chris had a meeting very early in the morning so when you woke up he wasn't there. All of a sudden you hear the front door of the Sturniolo household open and close and you hear Chris's contagious giggling.

You smile from hearing his giggling and from knowing he's finally home. His footsteps are coming towards his room and once the door opens he calls your name to get your attention, you peek from over the covers and smile at him while he looks at you with love and admiration in his eyes when he meets your eyes.

He walks over to you on the bed after taking his shoes off and starts kissing your cheek before he lays down on his side right in front of you. "I missed you all day baby." he says while stroking your cheek with his thumb. "How are you feeling? I know you've told me your cramps get really bad." You smile loving how he remembers the little things about you. "They hurt really bad but I think I'll be okay" you say not wanting to sound dramatic so that you don't bother him.

"I know exactly what you need, wait here" He gets up from the bed, quickly putting some shoes on and then leaves his room. You lay there a little confused but just chuckle at the way he cares for you so much.

A couple minutes later you see him walk back into the room with multiple CVS bags and he empties them out on the bed, you sit up from your laying position and look at all of your favorite snacks and more on the bed while he stands there with a smile. You look up at him and he opens his arms while you crawl over to him and give him a hug, he kissed your head while hugging you and then he hands you a teddy bear. The same teddy bear he won for you from one of the games at the fair that he named "Elvis". You took it from him and hugged it before laying on the bed again with Elvis in your arms and Chris just smiles and chuckles a little at your cuteness. He sits next to you on the bed and you lay your head on his lap while he opens a bag of sour patch watermelons and feeds you some before he eats some himself.

He leans down and kisses you after chewing and swallowing the candy. "Thank you baby" you tell him. Chris looks down at you and smiles while stroking your hair, "Your welcome love" he says. He lays down and gets more comfortable and you both fall asleep in each others arms with your head on his chest.

hope you guys enjoyed. this is not proofread so if you notice any mistakes please let me know. comment to be added to the taglist and comment what you want to see next. thank you for reading.

[burstinn]

I need more krueger fics (anything) 👉😔

Stalker x Stalker

(Part 1/?)

KRUEGER X M! READER

Notes And Warnings:

- Stalker x Stalker trope

- Stalking on both sides

- Masturbation and jerking off

1.To people without their awareness

2.To a dirty piece of cloth

- Sexual innuendos and thoughts

- NSFW

- no proofreading

- made in a short span of time meaning probably an hour or shorter so this is probably not the best way to yknow..

- made short on purpose because I got lazy

- This is a work of fiction made because I was bored, This should not be followed or replicated or else I will kill myself (>o<)

-made this cuz I didn't write for a good while and I felt bad

You don't know how this even started, He wasn't even acknowledging you the first time you guys met.. Was it his eyes? His accent? Maybe he reminded you of someone.. Shit you didn't care, you stopped caring for a long time now. It's an obsession at this point, You are hidden in your closet. You made a small hole inside of it like a secret room.. Just so you can keep trinkets and everything about.. Him.

Nothing but heavy breathing fills your cramped secret hole.. You need more pictures of him, this is getting out of hand, you're so desperate to feel him in some kind of fucking way it's unbelievable you held back for so long. Smelling one of the missing boxers of his wasn't enough to even satisfy you anymore.

Krueger, Sebastian Josef Krueger.. You scan your wall of pictures.. Pictures of him sleeping, working out, talking, eating, bathing.. Jerking off.. Those pictures were when you got lucky enough to take them and by God do you masturbate to those every night. Wishing one day you'd finally able to make him yours.. You know everything about him, His likes, his dislikes, his family, relatives, who he dislikes, what he does every morning and every night..

And recently you've only just started breaking into his room just to touch him, his face, tracing your finger tips against his jaw line, pressing your thumb against his soft lips.. Fuck,the thought of it makes you so hard.

But right now, you have a mission you need to attend to and the only thing that can calm your nerves is Krueger. Since you couldn't find him anywhere, Your shrine is the best place. You softly press your lips against one of the pictures of Krueger. One day, You will have the balls to actually try and talk to Krueger. You walk out of the closet, leaving with a slightly less grouchy mood. Hopefully the mission would go off without a hitch.

•~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~•

You're gone, The helicopter you got in with your other mates had just left and he watches intently and carefully to see that you actually did leave. Once he sees the heli leave the vicinity he wastes no time walking over to your room.. Not without precautions of course he made sure nobody saw him walk in there.

Fucking finally, Your room empty.. Everything in this room is just you, Your clothes, Your pictures, Your bed, your dirty laundry.

Krueger can't help but feel a short adrenaline rush come over him as makes his way to your desk which was right across from your bed.. He shuffles for a moment under the desk, pulling out a small camera.. He can't wait too watch this later, he doesn't care if you were doing nothing, reading a book, scrolling your phone, jerking off.. He didn't give a single shit he was gonna jerk off to whatever was recorded here anyway.

He pockets the camera, walking over to your bed and just.. Smelling, hugging everything.. You are so intoxicating. How could you do this to him? He knew it was wrong but he was in love, more than in love. Why else was he doing this? He loved everything about you.

Even if this obsession started over nothing special he didn't give a damn, what happened, happened and he's in love with you.

He stands up and grabs one of your dirty briefs from the hamper, making his way back to the bed laying back down and slowly lifting your brief to his nose. Krueger flinches his body getting hot just by the smell of you, He could just.. He shuts his eyes keeping your boxers to his nose.. His other hand shuffling to unbuckle his belt. His hard cock almost immediately throbbing out when he pulls his pants and boxers down.

He rips his gloves out of his hand with his teeth, slow breaths. His mind drifting off to you, naked on your bed.. Your cock out and lonely, desperate for his touch. Bothof you just whining and grunting out his name as you rubs your cocks together, moaning in each other's mouth, your tongues fighting against each other..

He didn't even notice he already came, his cum staining his uniform and on your bedsheets.. Goddamit, He promised himself he was supposed to make sure to not cum on your bed this time. He takes a breath, pocketing your brief as well as he gets up, zipping his pants up.. He should clean this.

Next time he'll be careful, It's only a miracle he doesn't get caught in your room while your sleeping, jerking off to your sleeping figure.

[starlost-mochi-x]

hello! just read your chan helping reader on their period post, it was so good, could you do one for changbin too? would be amazing <3

yayyy second request ! glad you liked the chan version, love 🤍

he comforts you on your period - seo changbin

pairing: seo changbin x reader

summary: you're struggling with your period and changbin helps you out

genre: fluff, non-idol! au, comfort, cramps and period pain, reader has a period, slight suggestiveness

a/n: comments are appreciated <3

You're curled up on the couch, a thick blanket draped over your body. It cocoons you completely, providing a bubble of intoxicating heat and warmth that seeps pleasantly into your bones. You've been feeling sleepy all day but the drowsiness isn't enough to distract you from the constant, thrumming pain in your abdomen.

Shifting slightly to the left, you turn just enough to look out the living room window. It's clouded with fog, frosting the glass and making the outside world seem far, far away. It rained earlier, a few hours before you and Changbin had gotten up. You'd spent the morning talking in bed, laughing and sharing stories, and adoring each other (in more ways than one).

You'd been perfectly fine through all of that, up until Changbin had kissed your forehead and gotten dressed to go to the gym. You'd protested and whined about it, arguing that there was no reason to go work out this early in the morning, and that skipping one gym session wouldn't hurt. Especially in this weather. It was freezing.

He'd simply laughed and peppered a few more kisses to your face before quickly cooking you breakfast and leaving. You hadn't managed to eat it, though- as soon as you had left the bed, your phone rang. You'd been taking several phone calls from work for about half an hour, casually ignoring the faint, dull warning thuds in your stomach, signalling that your period was about to start. Instead of resting or at least warming up a heat pad, you'd gotten around to doing chores while on the phone with your boss. You figured that there was no harm in doing two things at once. If anything, it meant that stuff got done.

Determination had taken a firm hold of your senses, and you aspired to have finished most of the chores while on the phone. As you worked, you began to realise it was a bad idea; your stomach was beginning to throb, and you couldn't focus on what your boss was saying. The pain in your abdomen spread all the way down to your toes, making it difficult to do anything more than stand stiffly and wash the dishes, your shoulder propping your phone to you ear.

As soon as you had ended the last call, you sat down hastily. The cramps were beginning to set in now and it was too late to take medication. Even if you had taken a few painkillers, it would have taken an hour or so to set in, and you didn't have that kind of time. There was work to be done and you wanted everything to be done before Changbin got back.

Of course, no such luck.

Now you lay on the sofa, having had no more strength to do anything but pull out the biggest, fluffiest blanket you could find, and collapse into the cushions like a ragdoll. It was comfier than expected, despite the throbbing pain in your gut, but it didn't do much to alleviate it. All you could do now was push your way through it. Or you could call Changbin.

But you knew how much he loved his workouts, how much he loved pushing himself to do better. You knew it was unreasonable to be thinking like this, but you couldn't help but feel that he deserved a morning to himself undisturbed.

Yeah, no. If i have to go another minute without painkillers-

Pulling out your phone from under the thick folds of blanket, you clicked on Changbin's contact, waiting for him to pick up. It rung three times before he answered. The sounds of clanking, chatter, and faint workout music sounded from the speaker of your phone. Changbin's voice came through crisp and clear.

"Hey, bunny," he sounded breathless.

"Hi," you whispered, suddenly feeling guilty.

There was a pause.

"Bunny, you okay? What's wrong?"

You shifted to the left again, hip jerking suddenly as a particularly painful cramp shot through your abdomen, needle-sharp.

"Can- can you come home? My period started and-"

There was a heavy clank from the other side of the phone, followed by a hiss and a groan from Changbin. You fought the urge to smile. You'd heard that sound many, many times when he'd been working out at home. It was usually followed by Changbin's characteristic whining as you pressed an icepack to his foot, carefully and gingerly shifting the weight he'd dropped on himself to the side. His dramatic sigh sounded through the speaker.

"Why didn't you call me as soon as you started?"

You whine. "I didn't want to disturb you, I know you like working out uninterrupted-"

"Bunny, that's no excuse. I'm your boyfriend, it's my job to know about this, okay? I'm coming home."

"But-"

"No buts. I'll stop by the store to get snacks. We can have a day in, yeah?"

You bite your lip. "I can always try and get up-"

"Nononononono, don't do that. I'll be there soon, okay? We can eat and cuddle and watch a movie," his enthusiastic tone floated through the living room, making your mouth lift up at the corners.

"Binnie, are you sure?"

He laughs, "Of course I'm sure."

You smile freely then, feeling a fresh surge of affection and love wash over you, momentarily dulling the aching, cramping pains in your abdomen.

"I love you, Binnie."

"I love you too, bunny. Now, what ice cream do you want?"

a/n: requests are open !

[halucynator]

Can I get a FIC abt the reader being Theodore’s gf and best friend and she’s embarrassed and alone in her dorm bc of cramps and they are REALLY REALLY bad and he just comforts her and they snuggle and he gives her his hoodie and fluffy!! (I’m dying from my cramps in my bed rn 🙏 I need comfort from my book bf)

Just you.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!reader

Warnings: kissing, mention of periods, cramps (I don't think that's a warning but wtv), not proof read

Summary: Amidst intense pain and vulnerability from severe cramps, you find comfort in the presence of your caring boyfriend, Theodore.

A/n: first of all, I'm so sorry about your cramps, hope you feel better! Second of all, I hope this is to your liking 💖

Fluff, fluff and fluffff!!

Rain tapped gently against the window, creating a soothing rhythm that seemed at odds with the storm raging within you. Clutching a heating pad to your abdomen, you curled up on your dorm bed, desperately wishing for the presence of your boyfriend and best friend, Theodore. You were alone, vulnerable, and your cramps were worse than ever.

Theodore had been busy with his own studies, yet he somehow managed to realise you weren't feeling well. So, as the rain continued its dance outside, he arrived at your doorstep, concern etched on his face.

"Hey, are you okay?" His voice was soft, full of worry.

You mustered a faint smile, your voice barely audible. "Hey, Theodore."

He crossed the room in a few swift strides, sitting on the edge of your bed. His touch was gentle as he placed his hand on your forehead, checking for fever. "You don't look so good. What's happening?"

You couldn't hide the pain any longer. "It's just... really bad cramps."

His expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "I'm so sorry you're going through this," he said with genuine concern.

You bit your lip, feeling a mixture of vulnerability and embarrassment. You didn't want him to see you like this, weak and in pain. But as you looked into his eyes, all you saw was empathy and love.

"You don't have to hide how you're feeling," he whispered, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "I'm here for you, no matter what."

Tears slipped down your cheeks, and you nodded, letting your guard down. "I know, it's just... really bad this time."

He didn't hesitate. He moved closer, creating a space for you to curl up against him. His arms enveloped you, providing a shield against the torment you were experiencing.

"Lean on me," he murmured, his voice a comforting melody. "You don't have to go through this alone."

You buried your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the intensity of the pain but also the warmth of his embrace. Theodore's arms around you were steady and strong, a reminder that you weren't alone in this struggle.

Minutes turned into hours as Theodore's thumb traced calming patterns on your back. The sound of the rain outside felt like a gentle lullaby, soothing your racing heart.

"Do you want anything? Water, tea, maybe a snack?" Theodore's voice was soft, caring.

You shook your head, your voice muffled against his shoulder. "Just you."

He smiled, his eyes softening with affection. "I'm right here," he reassured you, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

Time seemed to blur as you sat there, finding comfort in each other's presence. The pain began to decrease, replaced by the soothing cadence of Theodore's heartbeat. The rain outside felt like a cleansing force, washing away the turmoil within you.

"You know, I once read that distraction can help with pain," Theodore broke the silence.

You managed a weak chuckle, lifting your head to meet his gaze. "You're distracting enough."

His grin was infectious, his eyes lighting up with warmth. "Well, I do have one more trick up my sleeve." He reached for a nearby book and handed it to you. "How about I read to you? It might take your mind off things."

You blinked, touched by his thoughtfulness. "You'd do that?"

"Of course," he replied softly. "Anything to make you feel better."

As he read, his voice wove a tale that carried you away from the pain. The discomfort became a distant echo as you got lost in the words. The rain outside continued its soft melody, a backdrop to this intimate moment.

Eventually, fatigue crept in, and you nestled your head against his chest. Theodore adjusted his position, allowing you to find a comfortable spot. He continued reading, his voice a soothing balm that lulled you into a peaceful slumber.

When you woke up, the pain had lessened considerably. You found yourself wrapped in a fluffy blanket, Theodore's arm still around you. His presence was soothing and helped you remember that you were safe and cared for.

"Feeling any better?" he asked gently kissing your cheek, his eyes meeting yours.

You nodded, smiling gratefully. "Yeah, thanks to you."

His smile was like a warm embrace, his eyes reflecting his genuine feelings. He kissed you one last time before you sat there in silence, finding comfort in eachother's presence.

[mickeytheticklee]

MICKEYY YOUR TICKLE FICS ARE SO ADDICTIVE OMG. AND SINCE BOTH OF US ARE IN A RENEÉ RAPP ERA RN?! I BEG IF UR GONNA BE ACTIVE WRITE FOR LER!REGINA AND LEE!Y/N (THAT FIC MADE ME BLUSH SO MUCH😭😭)

I have been summoned for more fics (not rlly I'm bored)

You're like in love with me

Pairing: Ler!Regina George x Lee!Reader

Summary: Regina is randomly in a lee mood while being on her period

Warning: Tickles, mouth tickles, Regina being soft and clingy, my bad writing I should add

An: Anyone who's reading this deserves to be tickled by a mean girl who's secretly a soft lee

You play well to the act of people thinking you're the one obsessed with Regina. Behind closed doors it's another story.

It was a late Friday night. You two were bundled up in her thick sheets, watching cartoons during the night hour. Regina wasn't really into cartoons, she rather watch and disect any Real Housewives series, seeing which Housewife she can relate to. She said yes only for you, only because she had a habit of never saying no to you. She can say no to anyone if they were caught using her stuff, even Gretchen. Yet you ask and all she does is roll her eyes and say fine.

Regina was going to have a night out with her friends, partying and seeing which high school football player she might snatch next. But unexpectedly she started her period, so those plans were immediately thrown out the window. Regina isolates herself on her period, she rather eat spiders than let everyone see her in baggy sweats and no makeup. You knew she looked beautiful even on her rough days, you made sure to text her that whenever her self esteem was declining. Which explains why she'd invite her tonight, being vulnerable enough to snuggle next to her, caressing her hair after buying her chocolates and fixing up a cup of tea.

Regina was resting your head on your lap, her hand fitting perfectly under your shirt for warmth. Your lee demeanor was off so it didn't tickle. Although you wish it did by how pointy her nails were and how close it was pointing your skin. You ignored any tickle thoughts you had for tonight, knowing it wasn't right with Regina physically being in pain from the period cramps. She got up, immediately you were in your overprotective mode, asking if she needed anything or if her cramps were coming back.

“Babe what's wrong? Do you need your heating pad?", You ask, holding her waist in making sure she sits back down. She whines, which is the first. You thought Regina might be groggy from the tea or from the boring cartoons. Thinking it was her becoming tired she gets closer to your face, giving it tiny pecks until she reaches your neck. She straddles your waist, kissing your neck until you give in to the ticklish sensations. You were holding yourself together with how tense your body became. You let out a few respectable snickers, but those quickly turn into giggles by how her fingers started scribbling around your side.

“Babe let go- hehhehhHAHAHAHAHA!!", Even on her period she was strong, trapping you in her arms with side and back scribbles while still kissing your ticklish neck. You push away, not too much since you were secretly loving her tickles. But you needed her to stop so she can focus on resting.

“I'm serious babe you need to get some rest and try not to move so much."

“But I wanna give you tickles.", Regina says, her voice softening. It wasn't rare to see Regina in her clingy side. When she's on her period it's like a different persona overtakes her mean girl complex. Of course she's needy with you now but during these times she wants extra attention and extra love. Both you didn't mind, despite her barely being affectionate the height difference makes the hugs ten times bettee. But you've never seen her this clingy to where she's begging to tickle you.

“You can tickle me once you feel better.", You say but Regina is not listening. She sits her head on your tummy, drawing circles and pouting that she couldn't tickle you. She felt every twitch on your stomach towards every circle and star drawing she was making. You were holding back your laughter hard, inches close to just freely laughing and her taking the lead of all the tickles. But again, this night was about Regina, not you.

Yet her hand makes it away under your shirt, being sneaky and having her finger in your bellybutton. This time you did laugh, kicking your feet a bit and not making any sudden movement to your upper body. Regina may have been facing the TV but you can feel her smirking at you.

“Your belly is so warm, like a heating pad.", Regina says, continue to rest her head on it, the little hairs that sticks out tickling your stomach. Her hair was in a messy bun, probably even messier as she's been laying down the past few hours.

“Babe, why do you wanna tickle me so bad?", You say, trying to stop Regina's hands from creeping up on your sides again.

“Can't I reward my girl for taking such good care of me?", She looks at you with the up most smile. A natural adorable smile, not the fake smile she uses whenever she's with the plastics.

“You can't wait until tomorrow where you'll feel better?", You say, pouting back.

She sits back up, getting centimeters close to your face. You can feel the pink rush thru your cheeks over the intense moment. She was hating that I was denying her tickling me and had to use her flirting skills to the test. “You know what I'm craving right now? A delicious tummy with a side of ribs and raspberries. May even want your toes too. Now, care to be a good darling and lift up your shirt for me?", Regina's voice so hypnotizing you do exactly what she says. You slowly lift up your shirt, giving her access to a range of spots that she immediately puts her lips on.

“Be careful with the RIBS HAHAHAHAHAH!!", You laugh, but not too loudly, it's mostly squeaky laughter over the mixture of soft tickling and evil teases. She was nibbling at your ribs, not too hard, Regina isn't the type to be extremely hard to your spots. You were laughing, not necessary caring about the volume of the TV. You weren't squirming that excessively, you were afraid it bothered Regina by how uncontrollable your body was when being tickled. She then squeezed your tummy like a stress ball, making you scream with laughter and your legs kicking up in the air in a cartoonish way.

“HAHAGAGAHAHHAHHA!!"

You stopped to look at her, feeling bad for the extra kicking that shook the bed. “Sorry.", You apologize but Regina lays on her side, admiring your ticklish self.

“Its okay baby you don't have to apologize, it's cute what my tickling can do to you.", Regina says, stroking your hand. She brings her closer, still tickling your tummy while trying to figure out the plot for whatever cartoon you two are watching. You both weren't focusing, Regina was busy from watching you turn into putty from all the tummy tickles. You were too ticklish to focus on how the show might end.

“I think- I think heheghhehehe...", You keep trying to form a thought but the tickles keep fogging your mind. You were speaking in giggles as Regina nods, thinking she understands what you're saying. Acting like she wasn't scribbling all over your tummy and poking your ribs.

“Yea? So what happened next?", Regina asks, interested in what you were giggling out. When it was over and you finally had a thought about the show she surely again was tickling your tummy, squishing it like a stress ball almost. Like those ASMR slime videos. Your legs kicked back up in the air with screeches filling up the bedroom walls. Once the squishy tickles were finished your legs return back down, but once back up again as she continues them to tease you.

“This is so satisfying, I can feel my cramps going away.", You however might gain cramps for the amount of laughing done. She stops again, calming you down with pecks and tummy rubs. You kiss her, thanking her for the unpredictable tickles that came of tonight. You bring her back to the covers, bringing her back to your chest so she can sleep, even if you were the exhausted one from the tickling.

“Gosh, you're like in love with me aren't you?"

“Shut up."

[yelenasdiary]

Listen Closely

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x Daughter! Reader

Summary: After your mother finds out your having a hard time at school, she takes matters into her own hands.

Angst | Comfort | Reader is 17 | Bullying | Mentions of Body Shaming | Dark Thoughts | Depression | She/her Pronouns Used | 2K | 

AC: Here’s the idea I posted about the other day haha! This fic is safe for minors to read, just please don’t follow my blog x. I hope you enjoy this x

"Boys, where's your sister?" Wanda asked the twins as they dug into their cereal. "In bed still" Tommy replied causing his mother to frown slightly. It was unlike you to still be in bed at this time, usually you were sat at the dining table enjoying breakfast with your younger brothers while they shared the dreams they had last night with you. 

"Brush your teeth after breakfast, no lying Billy, I can tell if you're brushed them properly" Wanda raised a brow at the young boy before making her way upstairs. You heard the soft knock on your door as you pulled the covers over your head, wiping the tears that broke free the moment you woke up. 

"Honey?" the softness of your mother's voice filled the room as she slowly opened the door, "you're going to be late" she added. 

"I don't feel well" you replied, the covers muffling the brokenness in your voice.

Wanda closed the door behind her before taking a seat on the edge of your bed, installing rubbing your back. If anybody knew you the best, it was your mother. The two of you have always had a strong and close bond to one another and as you got older, that bond only grew stronger. "What's the matter love?" your mother asked while still rubbing your back. 

Slowly, you pulled the covers back and held your stomach under the covers, "I have really bad cramps, they've kept me up all night" you explained before Wanda placed the back of her hand on your forehead, "Mm" she hummed as she brushed your hair back, "do you have any tests today?" she asked. 

You shock your head, "No tests this week, just study and preparing for next week's tests"

"Alright, I'll get you a heat pack and some pain killers before I take the boys to school. Do you need me to pick up anything from school?" 

You shook your head again. "Get some rest, I'll be back in a moment" Wanda placed a kiss on your forehead before leaving you alone once again. The moment you heard her footsteps down the stairs, you sighed before reaching for your phone. Taking today off was a big risk, not just because it was Monday, but because you'd skipped the last three days of school last week. You could only hope that you could get away with today before the school would call the house phone. 

Punching in the passcode to your phone only made the sickening feel in your stomach rise. You've turned off all notifications due to the bullying that has been going on for the past month or so. At first, you didn't let it get to you, some petty school yard like bullying wasn't something you ever paid attention too but when the bullying escalated in ways you couldn't ignore it, it started to take its toll on you. 

Of course, you didn't mention anything to your mother as you didn't want to worry her or let her make a fuss, she already had enough on her plate with the twins, work and the other duties that come along with being a mother of 3. Although you felt like you should've said something weeks ago when the unknown numbers started sending texts to you and your social media accounts soon became a pit for the bullying to continue. 

Little did you know, your mother didn't believe for a second you were unwell and she'd been suspecting something was wrong for a few weeks but she never wanted to over step your boundaries and privacy but she as starting to get more worried about you with every new day that arrived. 

"Is Y/n coming down for breakfast?" Billy asked, handing his empty bowl of cereal to Tommy as he stacked the dishwasher. "Not this morning, she's unwell. Let's get you two ready for school" Wanda smiled at the boys before they raced off upstairs to begin getting ready. 

----

After dropping the twins off at school, a little earlier than she usually would, she made her way to your high school to meet your best friend, Kate, before her classes started. She didn't like going behind your back like this but her worry got the better of her. 

"Kate, hi!" Wanda smiled softly as she managed to grab Kate's attention. 

"Oh hey Wands! What's up? Is Y/n with you?" Kate replied with a smile. Kate has been your best friend since pre-school and Wanda knew if there was anybody to talk to about you, it was Kate. 

"No, not today. She's not well" 

"That's probably why I haven't heard from her, I hope she's okay" 

Kate's comment worried Wanda even more, "you haven't heard from her? When was the last time you had?" Wanda questioned. 

"Uhm, Friday? I just assumed you guys were doing something for the weekend, so I didn't worry so much. Is everything okay?" Kate frowned slightly. 

"Honey, Y/n hasn't been okay for a while, and I really need you to tell me what's going on" 

Kate's eyes dropped, "she made me promise" 

Wanda placed a hand on Kate's shoulder, causing the young teen to look up at her. "Sometimes breaking a promise is okay. If there is something serious going on, I need to know about it. I promise nobody is in trouble, I'm just worried" Wanda assured the brunette whom she's known for many years. 

Kate nodded, "I honestly thought she would've mentioned something by now" she admits, "the popular girls have been giving her a hard time for a while. At first it was just some petty stuff that didn't bother her but it's grown into something bigger and I've told her she needs to talk to you about but she just brushes me off and says she doesn't want to worry you" Kate explains with worry in her eyes. 

Wanda's heart broke as she nodded at Kate's words, "Can you tell me everything?" Wanda asked, Kate nodded. 

----

Tears streamed down your face as you held Sparky close, patting him in hopes it would bring you some form of comfort and help fight off the dark thoughts that your mind was screaming at you. It was a bad idea, and you knew it but you checked your Instagram to find an edited photo of you trending via mutuals. A poster of you was made as a joke, body shaming you and calling you unspeakable names in the poster, comments, and captions as those at school hadn't seen you in a few days, they assumed you'd caved and did what they'd been telling you to do. 

You'd be lying if you said you hadn't thought about it, leaving your family behind and finally putting yourself put of this pain that kept you up late at night, the pain that made you grow distance with your family and friends, the pain the isolated you from the world day by day. Wanda came home to the sounds of loud sobs filling the home, her break broke even more. She wasted no time, throwing her handbag to the side and rushing up the stairs to your room. 

Her rushing foot steps up the stairs took you by surprise and gave you little to no time to try and hide the tears that covered your face. Your mother didn't knock this time, she just welcomed herself into your room. 

"Mom!" you frowned, looking away from her, "you're supposed to knock!" you added. 

"Not when my baby needs me" she replied sitting beside you and wrapping her arms around you. You broke once more, trying to wiggle out of her arms but deep down you didn't want too. "It's okay honey, I know everything" your mother spoke softly which made you stop resisting her hold as you looked up at her. 

"W-who told you? Did the school call?!" you asked in a worry. Your mother shook her head, tears filled her eyes at the sight of you, "Kate told me, I asked her too. I've known something hasn't been right for a few weeks but after seeing you this morning, I wasn't going to wait for you to come to me" she explained, pulling you closer to her and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

You finally allowed yourself to break once more, crying in your mother's arms. "I'm sorry" you sobbed. "Honey, look at me" Wanda gently brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear when you looked at her, "there's nothing you need to be sorry about. I'm sorry you felt like you couldn't come to me sooner, I wish you did darling. I don't want you to ever feel like you're alone or even for a second thing that what those horrible girls have been saying is truth. Kate showed me some of the things online, I have copies and I will be talking to the principle" your mother added. 

"But mom, that'll just make things worse" you shook your head. 

"Nobody has the right to make my baby feel like this! I do not care who they are, I'll do anything and everything I need too to make sure this never happens again" Wanda replied, letting you snuggle into her chest once again. 

----

"Mrs Maximoff, it's lovely to see you" your principle smiled as she looked up from her desk to greet your mother. Wanda placed a small stack of print outs on the desk, "I wish this was a friendly visit" she replied. 

"What is this?" Miss Sullivan grabbed the stack and began to look through it. 

"I want the girls who are responsible for this to be punished fairly. This group of girls have been targeting my daughter for months and you nor the teachers have done anything to stop it!" Wanda explained.

"Mrs Maximoff, if things have gotten this bad, why wasn't this brought to my attention sooner?" Miss Sullivan looked up at your mother who just tilted her head slightly at the woman. 

"I only found out all of this today! Y/n said she tried to report the bullying and harassment when things started to get worse, but her English teacher told her not to worry too much about it and that the girls would get bored soon enough. That was months ago and now my daughter is at home in tears and in a headspace, I cannot imagine my baby girl ever being in. I don't want to take things further but if this isn't shut down and dealt with quickly, I will get the police involved"

Miss Sullivan was taken back by Wanda's rage; she's never seen your mother so furious before. "We do not take bullying of any sort lightly, let me assure you the girls responsible for this behaviour will be dealt with but unfortunately there is nothing we can do about the online bullying. We can't control what students do outside of the school grounds, but I am confident with chat with all the girls, this will come to stop." She explains. 

"Y/n will not be attending that chat, nor will she be returning to school until I'm assured that punishment has been dealt and listen to me carefully when I say this" Wanda looked your principle in the eyes, "if those girls or anybody else in this school hurts my daughter again, I will take higher action. You have my number; I expect to hear from you by the end of the day" Your mother replied before leaving Miss Sullivan's office before the woman could say another word.

Meanwhile, you were at home feeling a little better about explaining everything to your mother, she brought home your favorite take out for lunch and spent the rest of the afternoon with you, watching your favorite movies. Not another word was spoken about the situation that day but Wanda was determined to make sure this would never happen again and was pleased to receive a call from your principle as she waited for the boys to get let out of class. The girls giving you hell were to be spoken too and punished first thing on Tuesday morning.

Taglist: @red1culous | @sayah13 | @charl-lally | @when-wolves-howl | @bentleywolf29 | @fxckmiup | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz  | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @observeowl | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @wandsmxmff | @apollo2907 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @fluffyblanketgecko | @puta1 | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @tintedrose12 | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @lizzieslcver | @youralphawolf72 | @donnietarantino | @natashamaximoff69 | @hehehehannahthings | @pandaemonium111 | @secrettoallofyou | @romantic-slaps-on-the-asss | @marvel-fan-2021 | @mmmmokdok | @riveramorylunar | @ripofflizzie | @marvel-madnessx | @scarsw1fe | @toldthatdevil | @itsmv3 | @natashaswife4125 | @katiemay-025 | @aphrcdtes | @romanoffs-widow | @maria-403 | @boredandneedfanfics | @wandamaximoffspuppup | 

[ledder4]

john price red wings

womenpov

You just got out of the shower and didn’t even bother shaving your legs…with cramps this bad all you wanted to do was lay down and call it a day…“thank the universe for whoever invented period panties” you thought to yourself as you threw some on and settled into bed…

An hour into you reading a good book you started to doze off, lazily reaching over and turning off the lamp on the nightstand…you checked your phone, John would be home soon…

You heard the keys in the door just before you dozed off a second time…you heard his heavy boots making their way down the otherwise silent hallway… “You up?” he whispered as he reached the bedroom door…

His kisses were the softest sweetest thing…you adored them and especially loved the little tickle you got from his beard… “How was your day babe?” you whispered after he showered you with kisses…

“No time for that” he growls…”I need you…now” and before you can protest he’s got his head between your thighs… “babe! no! i’m on my period!” you blurted out, grasping for his head and trying to clamp your thighs together…

“So?” he blurted out before returning to his quest, forcing your thighs back open with little effort from his strong hands…

You couldn't believe it. Your husband, the strong, caring man you fell in love with, was ignoring your pleas. You tried to push him away, feeling tears welling up in your eyes. "John, please. I don't want to ruin your sheets. Not now."

He looked up at you, a lustful glint in his eyes. "Don't worry about that," he said, pulling out a towel and spreading it beneath you. He then resumed his task, his tongue teasing your most sensitive spots. The pleasure was intense, despite your protests.

You couldn't help but moan, your body betraying your intentions. "John..." you whimpered, your resolve wavering. "You're making this difficult..."

He grinned, his beard tickling your skin as he looked up at you once more. "That's the point, babe. I want to take your mind off the pain."

His words, combined with his skilled touch, had you surrendering to the pleasure. You wrapped your legs around his head, pulling him closer as he continued his ministrations. The orgasm that overtook you was powerful, leaving you breathless and spent.

As he moved up your body, you reached for him, your inhibitions fading. "I love you," you whispered, pulling him into a deep kiss.

John responded by kissing you passionately, removing his clothes as he went. He positioned himself between your thighs, entering you slowly. The initial discomfort was replaced by a sense of fullness that you found comforting. He began to thrust, his movements slow and deliberate, as if savoring each moment.

As he found a rhythm, the discomfort from your cramps began to fade. You wrapped your legs around him, encouraging him to go deeper, faster. The connection between the two of you was electric, and the pain seemed to melt away.

"John," you gasped, "don't stop."

He smiled down at you, his eyes filled with love and desire. "Never," he promised, and with that, he picked up the pace, driving you both towards a shared climax.

The release that followed was powerful, leaving both of you breathless and sweaty. John collapsed onto you, his strong arms holding you close.

"I love you," you whispered again, feeling more content than you had all day.

"I love you too," he replied, kissing your forehead. "Always remember, no matter what, I'll always be there for you."

With that promise, you drifted off to sleep, wrapped in each other's arms, the pain and discomfort of your period fading into the background. In the warmth of John's embrace.

all that mattered was the strength of your bond.

made by ledder4

[wilsons-three-legged-siamese]

NEW FIC ALERT???

Requested by @sleep-needer like 3 weeks ago, took me ages for no reason I do apologise-

Thank you to ml @lv3buzz for helping me with the last bit <33

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Chases childhood and how he dealt with it.

Warnings: child abuse, neglect.

Say Goodbye to The Ones That we Love.

Only Chase knows why he has that scar on his head, and why he has so bad claustrophobia.

"Please! " He sobbed, trying to fight back his mother.

His mother, Jane, just kept ahold of him, her teeth gritting and eyes burning with fury. Chase kicked and screamed, desperately trying to get out of Jane's tight grasp. Yet, nothing worked, being a nine-year-old. Jane opened the door, threw the kid in and slammed the door behind him, locking it. Chase scrambled to the door, trying to turn the handle and pounding on the door frantically.

"Mummy!! Please! Let me out, " he begged.

It was no hope, it was never any hope, unfortunately. He briefly cleaned his tear stained face and sat curled up against the door. He brought his knees up to his chest, trying to even out his cut off breaths. He looked around the small, cramped office space. Until it hit him.

He was trapped.

Tears spewed from his eyes once again as his breathing drastically increased. His chest began to feel tight, as his heart rate fastened. With the shaking of his hands, he weakly brought them up to his ears and tucked his head in his knees. Everything was way too loud. He could hear the staggered steps of his mother, the beeping of the printer, it was all too much.

Suddenly, it was an hour later. He couldn't recall how long he'd been curled up, but his knees hurt now. He slowly let his legs slip in front of him as he looked around. Nothing had changed. His arms fell to his sides as the sound of his mother's snoring filled the blank noise. He almost sighed of relief, gradually getting up and browsing the books on his fathers bookshelf. He ran his finger over the spine of a couple dozen, carefully reading the titles. Soon, he picked a book. It was a nice colour of green, with a blue box in the middle with the words:

'Oxford Textbook of Medicine'

written on it. Chase was previously attracted to the colours, as he really liked the colour green. But, as he quickly flicked through the book, he saw fascinating diagrams of all sorts of anatomy. The labeling was extraordinary to him. He sat back down in his prior position and read through the pages, studying the pictures and skimming the words.

And that's when he decided he should be a doctor.

Every time he got locked into that room, he looked at one new book. He even managed to find a notebook and pen, jotting down little notes and scribbling rough diagrams. It gave him something to do, other than sit and wait helplessly for his mother to wake up or his father to come home unannounced. But once he'd read most of the books in the office (other than the ones on the top shelf), he became bored and fearful again. He dug around in his father's drawers, desperately trying to find maybe a hidden journal. Until, he found one. It was dusty, brown and quite battered. He picked it up and read the front of it.

'Melbournes rheumatology cases'

Although he couldn't read the second word, it seemed important as it was well hidden. He read the authors name, as he'd always been interested in people's names.

'Rowan Chase'

His mouth fell agape. Though he wasn't sure on the first name, he had heard his father being called 'Rohan' or something, and Chase was definitely their last names. He smiled giddily as he opened the book. But much to his surprise, there wasn't any diagrams. He frowned, skimming through the whole of the book to find a total of maybe 2 pictures. It was quite disappointing. Yet, he forced himself to read the book.

He yawned multiple times while reading, maybe that rheuma word wasn't for him. He closed the book with a grunt, pushing it aside and slumping against the door. He grabbed his pen and started to chew on it, he guesses it was something to do. So he gnawed on the pen. Until the plastic broke. He groaned, hurling the pen into the bookcase in frustration. He crossed his arms, pouting dramatically, until he heard a bloodcurdling scream from outside the door. That sounded like his mother.

He got up in a panic and pounded on the door.

"Mummy!!? What's wrong!! " He screamed.

Jane didn't reply, she just screeched again.

Chase scrambled to his feet and frantically looked at his fathers desk, scanning the well organised objects until he landed on the phone. Going through his memories, he remembered the emergency number. 000.

He hurriedly picked up the phone and dialed the number, impatiently waiting for the operator to answer.

"You have dialed Emergency Triple Zero, your call is being connected. "

He tapped his foot impatiently as he bit his lip. Jane continued to groan in the background. But finally, a Telstra Operator answered.

"Emergency. Police, fire or ambulance? "

"Am- ambulance, " Chase replied, his voice shaken and small.

The Telstra connected him with the ambulance line, them answering quickly to his call.

"Ambulance, what's your emergency? "

Chase gulped, "I- I don't know.. My mummy is screaming. "

"What's your name and age, sweetheart? "

"Robert, Robert Chase. I'm nine, " Chase muttered.

"Okay honey, and where are you? "

"My- my fathers office. "

"Well done sweetie, now can you stay on the line until the paramedics get here? "

"Mhm."

"Okay, good boy. Just keep talking to me okay? "

Chase kept talking to the nice operator until he heard a crash. He jumped, squeezing his eyes shut and placing his hand on his ear.

"Ma'am! Where is your son? "

A male American accent called, then Jane answered weakly. Just as Chase processed this, the door was opened in a strong force. Chase gasped, staring at open door and unfamiliar man in the doorway.

"Robert? " The man said softly, crouching in front of Chase.

Chase nodded, looking at the man with tears in his eyes.

"I'm Dr. House, your mum is okay. I need you to come with me. We'll keep you safe, " Dr. House explained, holding his hand out to let the little Chase grasp it.

He followed, trailing timidly behind the man. This Dr. House seemed quite nice. He had chestnut curls, piercing blue eyes and extremely chiseled facial features. He was clean shaven, but his hair was quite disheveled. Chase trusted him, though he was quite rude. Chase held tighter, suddenly feeling anxious. Once outside, Chase was loaded into an ambulance with House, getting strapped in and staring at the floor.

Lord this is gonna be a long night.

Chase sat, swinging his feet and sucking on a lollipop. He looked around at the foreign room, seeing a small kitchen, TV and some books. Books. His favourite. But, he had a lollipop so it was okay. Dr. House was sat next to him, grunting as he flicked through one of Chase's dads 'special daddy magazine's'.

"What's up with my mummy? " Chase suddenly asked, obnoxiously getting closer to House.

House scoffed, "natural process of having female anatomy. "

"Why? " Chase questioned, moving his sticky face closer to the man.

House pushed Chase down gently while rolling his eyes.

"Because your mum is female. "

"Why? "

"Because God wanted her to be. "

"Why? "

"Because God is a sexist bitch. "

"What's a bitch? "

"Female dog. "

"Why? "

"Shakespeare."

"What's that? "

House clenched his jaw and fist, ignoring the little Australian and going back to looking at the magazine. Chase gave up and continued looking around the quite bland room. There wasn't any colour or decorations, just a boring doctors staff room. He pouted, twirling the lollipop stick between his fingers as he'd finished the sweet.

The first time Chase realized he was taking care of his sister, was 3 months after she was born. After meeting Dr. House, after hearing his mother's screeching, after everything, he still didn't realize for 3 months that what he was doing wasn't normal. Only on his birthday did he realize.

"Mummy, why can't I have a party? I'm 10 now! " Chase exclaimed, trying to rock the crying baby and chasing after Jane.

"Shut up Robert! My god! " Jane shouted back.

She turned around sharply and kicked in the legs, causing him to yelp in pain and fall to his knees. He quickly held onto his baby sister, Bea, making sure she didn't fall. Jane speedily walked away to her room and slamming the door. Bea started to waile. Chase held her close and hushed her through his own crys, rocking her gently.

Now eleven-year-old Chase paced his kitchen, trying to think over the sound of the television. Jane drank heavily on the sofa, downing bottle after bottle of anything she could get her hands on. Chase audibly sighed, letting his gaze fall over to his hopeless mother. Bea slept restlessly in her cot, squirming because of the television noise. Chase noticed.

"Hey, ma, do you think you can maybe.. Turn the telly down a little? " Chase questioned scarcely, shuffling closer to the living room with hesitancy.

Jane abruptly turned around, letting her piercing blue eyes pierce through her son like a spear. Chase flinched as she brought her hand up, but she turned it down far much obnoxiously than necessary.

"That better for you, Robert? " She snarled, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Chase nodded in fear and scurried back the kitchen, bringing his hand up to his heart and sighing of relief. Just as he thought he fixed it, the television started to blare again as Jane hiccuped. Chase rolled his eyes to himself as Bea started to whine. Chase picked her up and held her on his chest. He bounced on his heels up and down, rubbing his hands up her back and whispering phrases to her. He quickly snagged a bottle from the side, inspected it and offered it to her. she took it with her hands and popped the teat into her mouth and sucked. Chase leant against the counter, rocking her subtly. But as she realized the bottle wasn't warm, she hurled it across the room in a fit and wailed again.

"When will that godamn baby stop screaming?! " Jane shouted, now chucking a beer bottle at the two.

Chase ducked, holding on tightly to Bea as they barely missed the discarded object. Chase sank to the floor, now sobbing, trying to tend to Bea and the new cut on his head.

Only Chase knows why he has that scar on his head, and why he has so bad claustrophobia.

[pynkgothicka]

Ｐｕｍｐｋｉｎ ＫＴＨ

Synopsis - You meet a guy at the Halloween party and get without him without any secondhand thoughts. Halloween Special!!

Pairing - Dark! Shitty! Kim Taehyung x Fem!Reader

Warnings - GASLIGHTING, NONCON, shitty Taehyung, drug induced sex, acts of violence, VIOLENCE AGAINST READER, DOMESTIC ABUSE

Authors Note - Fuck it Halloween special coming early. I’m going more lengthy and different fandom this go round. Please let me know if you guys would like more, I’m just in a hardcore bts phase rn lol.

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

“It's literally the party of the century! What do you mean you don't wanna go?!” Your friend fussed at you.

“I just don't like Halloween parties all that much, too much can happen so sudden you know?” You worried looking in the mirror at the angel costume she had brought for you. The dress was skin tight, showing your touching thighs, your angel wings small and itchy, all topped off with a small halo headpiece. “Plus no one is going to know me there…”

She wanted you to go to some random party, all because her boyfriend was going to be there, and she didn't want to arrive alone. “Come on, it's not going to be that bad! Trust me I'll stay by your side the entire time. You definitely know me!” She reassured you holding your shoulder. You smiled timidly at her and took a deep breath in.

“Fine.”

🎃

She left you as soon as you arrived, leaving you to standing on a nearby wall in the houses kitchen. You should've known not to trust her and and her empty words. You always fell for the same scheme.

It was a amazing hiding space from the drunks walking in and out getting shot after shot. Everything was loud and drowned out each anxiety filled thought the instant you thought it. These were all definitely older people, you being just a freshman in collage. How did she even get invited to this place.

You looked up and made direct eye contact with a pair of dark brown eyes. Your breath left your chest as a guy stared at you from across the kitchen, a beer bottle in hand. Once he realized you were definitely looking at him, he gave you a small smile. His face was almost perfect, thick brows, tanned skin, a small mole on the bottom of his perfect lip, and god a body you could love. He wore a pair black pants and a dark turtle neck sweater. On top of it all he had on a leather jacket, acting as if a cherry on top, bringing the entire look together. Everything about him had you flustered and looking away quickly. You couldn't help yourself though, sneaking glances.

One of the bulkier dudes at the party went up to him, dapping him and passing a lit cigarette, the guy in black taking it and puffing a cloud in the others face. The guy choked on the smoke and scowled at him. The guy laughed and continued to smoke, as if it was some small major victory. Something about him screamed pure danger, and you liked it. You just kept looking at the guy, and looking away.

While looking down, you saw foot steps approach you from afar. “Your way too pretty to be here by yourself.” It was the same guy from across the room now standing in front of you hands tucked in his pockets. He leaned on the wall next to you, pushing your body further into the cramped space. You looked off to the side, giving a small smile. You started playing with your hair like a school girl.

“You don't have anyone here to talk to do you?”

“No, not really.” You muttered looking back at him. He gave a small smile and placed a hand on your shoulder. His other flicked the burnt ash on the end of the cigarette.

“Well you can talk to me all night if you want, in fact I was just about to leave, this shit fucking sucks. You can come with if you like? This doesn’t look like your type of crowd.” He laughed leaning up puffing smoke in the most angelic of clouds towards the ceiling. You coughed and he snickered at you.

“I can’t, I don't even know your name. Nor your age… Plus my ride should still be here and I don't wanna scare her.” Its not like you didn't want to go with this elusive stranger, but you still had to be cautious. He seemed older than you, plus like you said, you didn't want to just magically disappear on your friend.

“Well that's easy to get out the way. My name is Taehyung, but my friends call me Tae. And she obviously didn't worry about you enough to leave you here with a bunch of drunks now did she?” He lead you away slowly his hand rubbing against your back. You saw her in the corner kissing up on some guy, she made eye contact and then looked at Taehyung. She winked at you before going back to kissing on her guy.

She probably wasn't even planning on bringing you home.

“I guess I can go with you…” You muttered being ambushed by a gust of cold wind, the front door opening wide. He showed you the way to his black motorbike, handing you his helmet. It was gorgeous, the black shimmering in the moonlight.

“I’m going to need you to hold on alright pumpkin?”

🎃

That night on forward he was yours, as you were his. He started off as one of your close friends, which turned into your boyfriend a few weeks later. Tae constantly had you moving, bringing you out on dates, going to his apartment, and even just taking you out. He loved to spoil his girl.

Today he just so happened to have brought you to the nearby mall. He bragged to his friends about spoiling you, its because of what you deserved in his opinion. Tae talked about how you brought out the best in him. Apparently he’s been caught up in some bad stuff, but he cuddled and whispered about how you brought him away from all that. Back down to planet earth.

You were deep in thought as, Taehyung came behind you with a giant white fur coat as you were going through the racks in the department store. “Wouldn't this look amazing on you? Come on try it on for me.” You giggled dropping your purse as Tae helped you put it on, the bottom of the coat nearly grazing the floor. “See I told you, y’ look stunning pumpkin.”

“Really?” You asked twirling around in the coat.

“Would I ever lie to you beautiful?” He asked catching your waist and hugging you, bringing you closer to him. He smiled at you, your heart warming at just how sweet he could be. You leaned up puckering your lips out, Taehyung doing the same, giving a small peck. “I’m going to go pay for this alright, you can go ahead and keep looking just in case.” You nodded giving him a small wave as he left, then heading way over to the accessories section of the store. The sets all adorned with gems. You jumped as a hand touched your shoulder.

“Hi there ma’am would you like to purchase anything!” It was a store clerk, the guy scaring you instantly.

“Jesus! You scared me! Uhh no sir, I’m just looking. I cant really afford this anyways.” You say putting up the set of jewelry. He picked up the necklace that went with it, showing it off to you.

“Yeah but its gorgeous don't you agree?” He said unhooking the latch. “You can try it on if you’d like?” You furrowed your brows thinking, well it wouldn't hurt. You nodded turning around to look in the small mirror. You watched as he put the necklace around your neck. Suddenly the clerk collapsed with a grunt, the necklace falling on the ground. You turned around quickly seeing Taehyung on top of him wailing at his face.

“Stop! Stop it Tae! Please!” You yelled pulling at your boyfriends back, but he didn't listen and just kept going. Blood flew everywhere.

“You wanna fuck my girl?! Huh!?” He picked up the guy the collar and dropped it back on the ground, the back of his head hitting the tiled floor. You watched as blood poured from his nose and lip.

“No man… I swear!” The clerk cried out. You kept trying to pull Tae off, but Taehyungs hand flew back into your cheek, making you collapse on the ground. You began to full on sob, your cheek throbbing now. You looked around you a crowd of shoppers surrounding the ordeal.

Taes head whipped around at the sound you sobbing. He quickly got off the barely breathing guy and helped you up. You pushed yourself away from him. “Stay away from me! Please!” You yelled walking past him and straight for the department stores doors. You will find your own way home, you couldn't spend another second of your day with that monster. You walked straight out the doors and onto the sidewalk leading to the bus stop.

“Pumpkin! Baby!” He chased after you, in which you turned around to face him.

“Go away you psycho!”

”He looked at you weird, what did you expect me to do?!”

”Not beat a man half to death maybe!?” You huffed out searching for your credit card.

“You haven't experienced the world like I have, the world is a fucked up place alright!? I just want you to be safe. And I did it the only way I know how to.” He grabbed at your shoulder, your shirt getting stained with the clerks blood. You froze, you really didn't know him, nor what he could do. Were you making the wrong decision when you decided to be with him? “I love you so much baby… I’m sorry alright… It wont happen again. It will never happen again.”

God he seemed so genuine…

“Fine… Lets just… get out of here okay.” You suggested Taehyung nodding. He handed you your bag with your new coat in it, you quickly putting it on.

Sometimes he was so sweet, you wished that sweetness could get rid of the bruise on your cheek.

🎃

A few days later, you stood outside his apartment, coming to surprise him with some left over Halloween sugar cookies. You knew how much he raved about them and really you just wanted to dial down for a bit.

You knocked on the door, waiting for him to answer. You heard stumbling coming from the other side of the door and the door swung open to a drugged out Taehyung. His eyes were blood shot red, the room reeked of weed, and he was drenched in sweat.

You took in a deep breath, messing with your sweater sleeve. “I thought we could hang out for a bit… I brought cookies…” You mumbled not wanting to look at him. These were the moments that terrified you, the fear that he would go a-wall and hit you. After what happened at the mall, he seemed unpredictable.

And yet all he did was stare at you, pupils dilated, chest heaving.

“Yeah… Come in.” He stepped back into the apartment, leaving a open view of his usually pristine living space. The glass coffee table in front the sofa had a lighter and so much just mess everywhere.

God he was doing again. And you hated seeing him like this.

He sat down on the couch motioning for you to get close to him in which you did cozying up next to him, placing the cookies down on the table, moving some of the mess there. You gulped as he wrapped his arm around you breathtakingly tight. He leaned into your hair taking a deep whiff. “You smell so good baby.” His entire being smelled like weed, his breath reeked of it.

“Taehyung, you know I don't like the drug stuff…” You mumbled turning away from him. He sighed kissing the top of your head.

“Baby, pumpkin, I’m alright. I’m good. We’re good. I just really want to hold you right now.” His hand trailed to your thigh rubbing up and down. “And feel you, every inch of you.” He whispered into your ear, licking the rim afterwards. You shuddered pushing him away. He let go, having a surprised look on his face.

“I’m not playing with you right now, you keep saying your going to get off of them but you never do! I don't like what you become on them. In fact I don't like what you've become period! If I make you such a good person why can’t you act like it!!” You put your foot down for the first time ever with him. In which he didn't like, he didn't like that at all. Taehyung was never the guy to take any opposition.

“What are you going to do huh? Leave me? For what huh? You have fucking nothing.” He raised his voice standing up. he already towered over you when you were both standing up but this put you right at his crotch.

“I cant deal with this right now, I just wanted to have a good time like we used to have. Like after the party! That was nice Taehyung.” You stood up not bothering to even pick up the cookies, You just wanted to spend some time alone. You needed to cool off before continuing to take to him. “I’m going cool off. And don't follow me.”

“Don't you dare leave.”

You ignored him pushing past him and heading straight for the door.

“Take one more step and I swear-”

“Whatever Tae.”

You were almost there until you felt a punch to the center of your back. You collapse in pain doubling over. The breath was taken out from under your lungs and you looked up to Taehyung standing over you, sweat dripping down. “I told you to not leave. But you never seem to fucking listen huh?” He waited for you to get up on your own, coughing a wheezing. “Get up.”

“What… What was…” You didn't even get to finish as he pushed you against the door. He kicked you over to where you laid on your back, and he could get up close and personal. Taehyungs breath fanned over your face. His hair covered his eyes as he read your face.

His hands went to your sweater pulling it over your now tear stained cheeks, the eyeliner you put on running with the concealer. His hands went to your face smearing it all together all the while pulling at your cheeks and smiling, it was such a shame because you really wanted to look good for him. Not before all this, as he pulled you up by your arm and threw you into the door.

He just kept laughing and joking around. All the while banging you against the door. “You gonna act right huh?!” He yelled in your face, patting your cheeks. You nodded and he just repeated himself getting louder and louder. “What are you crying for huh? You don't have to cry, your alright,” he let out a wheezed out laugh, “We’re alright! See!” he harshly went down, pinning your legs to the door. He pulled up your skirt, teeth hooking in your panties yanking them down. Tae started to let out a small dry laugh, rubbing at your folds. “I just have to give you exactly what you need.” He murmured into you cunt.

Tae attached himself to you instantly. His tongue was deep within you, scooping out your hole. He murmured into your slit how beautiful you were, eyes looking dead as he ate you out with so much vigor. You pushed against his forehead trying to get him off you. “Tae! Stop! Stop it!!” You cried out trying to wail against his head. He snarled at you pushing you into the door further, opening your folds to get deeper into you.

Its not like hes not done this to you before, its just different now… hes rabid, and starved.

He pulled himself off of you, licking his way to your lips. You turned your head to the side, not wanting Tae to keep going. “Fucking look at me!” He yelled at you, moving your head back to where he was kissing you. The entire time you could see him move to slide off his sweat pants, his white T shirt coming off mid kiss. His cock shot up hitting against your legs, pre leaking.

Tae grabbed at your legs, hiking them up on the dips of his hips. He lined himself up with your ate out entrance. Your legs were sore, making you just dangling as he pushed himself in slowly. His head fell back as he embraced your warmth. He pushed you into the door beginning to thrust harshly into you. He licked at your neck, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. He bit into your neck bruising it slightly, sucking hickies into your neck. You hated the sound of him fucking you relentlessly.

And you just allowed him to do it, why did you?

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum in this cunt…” He mumbled grabbing your ass.

“Please…. Please pull out. That's all I want please…” Tae leaned his forehead onto yours, his drugged out red eyes looking into yours. His weed stained breath breathing heavily into your face. He shushed you for about the thousandth time that night. He sped up finally emptying himself deep inside you. He groaned and finally stopped carrying you back to the couch, sitting down first. He was still deep inside you.

“Just let me chill out… I wanna go again… Grab that and my lighter for me.” You did as he asked handing him the rolled blunt. He held it in his mouth, nudging his head for you to light it. In which you did with no questions asked. He took a deep breath bringing his lips to yours, blowing the smoke into your mouth before kissing you deeply.

“Shit I love you so much…”

You stayed silent.

“Say it back.”

“I… I love you too Taehyung…”

“Mmm you better…”

[magniloquent-raven]

eyes closed (i still see you)

(read on ao3)

The universe loves irony. That's all Eddie can think right now. This whole situation is like some cosmic fucking prank, and it might even be funny if he wasn't almost sure he won't survive the night.

He just had to take refuge in a closet, of all places.

In this closet. 

Coming to this stupid party was a bad idea. The first bad idea that spawned many other bad ideas that would end with him in the dark, crouched amid a pile of shoeboxes, his knee cramping and his heart in his mouth. 

He needed a little extra spending money and the rich kids that throw these shitty ragers are usually willing to pocket a dime bag or two. He made a tidy profit tonight, so there's that. He did what he came here to do. But he just couldn't keep his fucking mouth shut long enough to get out unscathed. 

So many idiots in this town. And all the beer sloshing around seems to make them testier than usual.

He's not proud of the fact that he straight up fled after one of Carver's buddies started throwing punches, but he sure as shit wasn't gonna stick around to get ganged up on by a bunch of angry hicks. Verbal sparring is more his speciality. 

If he was as smart as he likes to pretend he is he would've left the building entirely and gone to his van, but no, he had to skitter upstairs and find himself cornered in a guest bedroom, listening to frantic footsteps in the hallway. And then lock himself in the fucking closet.

He hadn't even had time to catch his breath when the bedroom door slammed open, clicked shut, and he started hearing…things. Happening. Things he definitely shouldn't be listening to because they're none of his business. 

Bodies moving around the room, crashing into furniture, heavy booted footsteps and shallow gasps getting closer and closer to his hiding place. 

He thought at first they were fighting. Thought maybe the commotion downstairs had started a chain reaction and people all around the house were getting into fist fights. There was certainly enough grunting and running into shit to make it sound like an altercation instead of…what's actually happening.

It didn't take long for the pair to slam into the wall next to the closet door, rattling its hinges, a thud and the scrape of someone sliding against drywall echoing in his tiny hiding place. 

And that's when he heard. Moaning. A tiny whine, muffled. The wet smack of lips colliding. 

Worst of all,

"Fuck," a voice, low, urgent, "Fuck, hurry up."

Billy Hargrove's voice. 

Billy fucking Hargrove is getting it on right outside Eddie's hiding place and if he makes a single noise this will be how he dies.

Billy is a goddamn menace and everyone knows it. He saw what Billy did to Steve Harrington's face. He's noticed how often Billy comes to school bruised up, with split knuckles. He is the last person Eddie would want to piss off, and Eddie doesn't consider many people off limits when it comes to that. Most people are fair game, as far as he's concerned. Carver and his sycophants might get rowdy once in a while but they think they're better than taking it further than that. 

Whereas Hargrove makes a habit of taking things further than that.

Eddie's only dealt with him directly a few times, sold him a handful of painkillers here and there, and he kept things as civil as possible.

But the thing is…Billy is also extremely pretty. 

Which makes this situation that much worse. 

'Cause if it was any other meathead Eddie could just plug his ears and wait it out, but…

Nooo. Nope. He's not thinking about. Anything. Nothing.

He's concentrating on how much his knee hurts. And how sweaty his palms are. He's focusing on breathing quietly, and trying to become one with the shadowy pile of coats to his right and the panelled wall at his back.

A belt buckle clinks. Rattles. Someone's scrabbling at Billy's zipper with clumsy fingers. 

Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, like that'll help. 

An image forms, crystal clear in his mind. Blond curls tousled by desperate hands, red lips parted around a debauched groan, Billy leaning his head back against the wall he's pressed to, eyes half-lidded, eyelashes dark and heavy, pupils blown. He wets his bottom lip, watching Eddie fall to his knees—

Oh. No. This is bad.

This is very bad.

Billy makes a soft breathy noise, and Eddie feels it like a punch in the gut.

Fuck. Jesus Christ.

He stares at the ceiling. Resolutely ignoring the way his stomach tightens, heat coiling low in his abdomen. A flush spreads up his chest. His t-shirt is starting to stick to his back. 

He bites his bottom lip, worrying it between his teeth. 

Then some very distinct noises start up on the other side of the door. Damp. Sucking noises. Billy's breathing goes ragged. 

The low burn simmering in Eddie's gut flares up in a burst of sparks tingling through his veins.

He never thought watching people get off was his thing, but suddenly he wants to peek outside so badly it fucking hurts. Aches. Tugs at his chest. His jeans feel too tight and he has to stuff his hands into his armpits to pin them to his sides. 

Jerking off right now would be weird and creepy and a terrible idea. 

He's made enough stupid decisions tonight, and he didn't narrowly escape getting his ass kicked for being mouthy only to get a beatdown for something infinitely worse. Everyone in Hawkins already thinks he's a freak, he doesn't need to prove them any more right. 

There's a limit to what kind of reputation he can have before people stop being willing to do business with him.

If he gets caught in here he's gonna be stuck wringing pennies out of Jonathan Byers' broke ass for the rest of his life. 

And that's best-case scenario. 

Worst-case scenario the rest of his life is the ten minutes it'll take for him to bleed out after Hargrove rips his dick off.

That thought is not as much of a boner-killer as it needed to be.

Who's out there with him, Eddie wonders. It could be…literally any girl at this party. Maybe Eddie will get lucky and it'll turn out Billy's getting blown by someone's girlfriend. At least then he'd have leverage. Mutually assured destruction. 

Or maybe it would just guarantee he gets the shit kicked out of him. Putting someone in a coma would be a surefire way to keep them quiet.

Christ, he's so fucked. 

Billy grunts again, not quite drowning out the sound of someone's gag reflex acting up. There's a muffled cough. And—

"Jesus, be more careful," Steven goddamn Harrington says, his voice hoarse but scolding.

Eddie slaps a hand over his mouth so fast he nearly loses his balance, wobbling in place and catching himself by leaning heavily against the back wall. His breath stutters against his palm, and his heartbeat is roaring in his ears. 

There's nothing in his brain but static. He can't have heard that right. He's missing something here. 

"Don't be such a pussy," Billy croons, his tone dripping with condescension. 

There's a quiet snort. "Whatever, dude. We can't all be professional cocksuckers."

Eddie swallows the hysterical laugh bubbling up in his throat.

"Fuck you." 

"Be nicer, or I'm leaving you to take care of this yourself."

They're flirting. This is them flirting. Suddenly all the stories he's heard about them getting into fights all over school take on a very different meaning. They're always at each other's throats, sweet-talking their way out of detention after they nearly killed each other on the basketball court or disrupted class with an unrelated argument. 

And apparently that was all foreplay for them. 

Somehow it makes perfect sense but it's also so out of left field he can't wrap his head around it.

"Aw, don't be like that, pretty boy. I'm on my best behaviour." 

"Sure you are." 

If Eddie didn't know any better he'd think Steve sounded fond. Which is almost more mind-boggling than the sex.

"C'mon, hurry it up, we've already been up here too long." 

Steve mumbles something Eddie can't hear. Something that makes Billy snicker. 

When they start up again it's so much harder to ignore.

It was one thing when it was Billy and some hypothetical girl. Half a fantasy that was miles out of reach despite only being a few inches of drywall away. As much as he was achingly curious and wetting himself over the idea of what was happening outside, he was able to keep that bit of distance that kept him quiet and seated. 

But now…now he's been swept out to sea. He's lost in it. The tingling warmth in his veins, pooling in his gut, under his jaw, the base of his spine, he's floating in it, struggling to breathe. The hand he's kept pressed to his mouth trembles. Twitches. He brushes the pads of his index and middle fingers along his bottom lip. 

Billy curses quietly, choked out and damn near reverent. Broken little syllables tumbling out of him with none of the bravado he usually cloaks himself in. It squeezes Eddie's whole chest, desire and something softer, something gentler but just as potent. 

He wraps his lips around his fingers experimentally, eyes falling shut, a nervous sort of tension thrumming through his stiff muscles. 

Liquid heat jolts through him when a tentative swipe of his tongue just so happens to coincide with a low groan on the other side of the door.

Billy's always carried himself with an alluring sort of confidence. Like interaction is a challenge. Like he knows exactly how hot he is and how much he can get away with because of it. 

And Eddie's always wondered what it would take to bring those walls down. Not to see what's underneath but just to prove it can be done. There's always been a part of him that's wanted to pick up that gauntlet Billy throws down every time he walks into a room. Everything about Billy and his stupid ostentatious persona made Eddie itch. Made him want to one-up him in some way, somehow. 

So there's something uniquely satisfying about hearing him whimper. Just once. A tiny, helpless little sound as he falls apart at the seams, undone by the touch of another man. There's something about it that lodges itself in Eddie's brain, burrowing into dark little corners. 

One fleeting moment and he's hooked. He wants to see it happen. He wants to make it happen. He wants to be the one putting Harrington on his knees and telling him exactly how to take Billy apart, piece by piece, leave him speechless and quivering, blue eyes hazy, pupils dark, sweat glistening on his chest. 

Eddie's free hand wanders downward to palm the front of his jeans. He shifts to press against it, just enough pressure to make his lungs catch and shudder. 

"I'm—fuck, Steve, I—" Billy's voice is barely more than a whisper, desperate and breathless and heartwrenchingly intimate. With one final half-swallowed groan the noises stop.

Holy shit, he finished. 

…Why is it so hot that it was that easy to make Billy Hargrove cum. 

Has he ever drawn it out, Eddie wonders. Has he ever had the time, the space. Been with someone who wouldn't give him everything he wanted right away. Made him beg for it instead.

"I gotta go," Steve says softly. There's the muted sound of a kiss pressed to bare skin. 

Billy hums. "Yeah."

Neither of them want to leave, it's obvious even without seeing their faces. But lingering could be dangerous. The vibrations from shitty music turned up too loud downstairs still rattles the walls, voices blend together into unintelligible noise. The party would've drowned them out unless someone had their ear to the door. But there's always the chance some other drunk, horny idiots would try to use the guest room. The longer they stay the more likely it is they'll get caught.

Eddie exhales slowly through his nose, tucking his hands back into his armpits. 

Shame prickles at him, settling sick and heavy in his stomach. Masturbater's remorse before he even had the chance to get off. 

They wanted a private moment alone. Something they likely don't get often. Eddie didn't have any right to his weird fantasies of involving himself in a relationship that isn't any of his business. 

He curls in on himself, resting his forehead on his knees. And waits.

They don't speak again. Eddie listens to the rustle of clothing, a zipper being pulled, and slow, almost hesitant footsteps. Minutes pass. All the tension and heat that kept his attention has bled away, leaving him with nothing to distract from how much his legs hurt, and the ache starting to press between his shoulderblades. 

Finally, the door creaks, and their footsteps fade into the background noise.

He counts out sixty seconds before daring to move, nudging the closet open just enough to peek out into the empty room.

His knees protest when he tries to stand, and he has to try a second time, slower.

How long was he even in there, goddamn.

The only hurdle left is pushing his way out the door somehow. Last time he was downstairs the crowd was too much and he had to book it up here instead.

He's planning his escape route when he steps out into the hallway, rubbing a sore spot on his shoulder, only to freeze with one foot still in the guest room.

They're not downstairs. 

They're right goddamn there.

Steve and Billy and some random fucking guy are standing at the top of the stairs, chatting the night away. Billy's leaning on the banister oh-so-casually, like he wasn't just getting his dick sucked, like there isn't a pink spot under his jaw that'll probably be a bruise tomorrow, like Steve isn't standing there with his hands shoved in his jacket pockets, eyes wandering Billy's face, bottom lip between his teeth, not a single subtle bone in his fucking body, oh god—

Billy locks eyes with Eddie, and all the colour drains from his face. He's never seen genuine fear on Billy Hargrove before. Wide-eyed, tense-shouldered, deer-in-the-headlights terror. He blinks and Billy's schooled his features into something resembling neutrality, but the image has already branded itself on the inside of his eyelids. It takes a couple seconds for his heart to start beating again, tripping all over itself in its panic.

Steve saw it too, no doubt. Suddenly he's glancing between Billy and Eddie and his expression is so locked down Eddie can't tell what he's thinking but it's definitely not good.

And random basketball guy doesn't notice a goddamn thing. He just keeps waving his solo cup around, 'cause he has no idea he's standing in the blast zone of a fucking timebomb.

He'll have to walk past them to leave. 

This is the worst moment of his fucking life. And that's a high bar.

He manages to get his legs working again. Somehow. Walking has never felt so unnatural. Jerky, awkward movements propelling him forward. He's not sure what to do with his hands. Or his face. How many times has he blinked since he started walking? Why do his shoulders factor into this whole process? What are they supposed to be doing?

He's a couple steps away from slipping past them when random guy notices him, and his brow furrows. "Hey!" He turns to yell over the landing's railing, at the party at large, "Hey, the freak's up here!" 

Fuck.

Time to run.

**

He wakes up the next day with a headache.

Turns out it is difficult to outrun people who actually exercise regularly. So not only did he leave the party more broke than he was when he went in, but the only thing he had to show for the whole ordeal was a split lip and a bigger target on his back. 

Fucking assholes. Can't take a joke.

Thankfully, Uncle Wayne wasn't around when he stumbled in at 3am, he doesn't want to have to explain how he got the shit kicked out of him. Again. The old man's dealing with enough as it is. And he always gets this fucking sad look on his face that hurts worse than the bruises. 

He buries his face in his pillow and groans. 

The front door rattles as someone slams their fist into it. Repeatedly.

What the fuck.

Is that what woke him up?

Does the basketball team make house calls now? He can't think of any reason why someone would be knocking on his door right now. The shitheads he sells to on the regular know not to come to the trailer park looking for anything, and his bandmates don't wake up this early on Saturdays. 

He's contemplating whether to get up or not when the knocking stops. Guess that answers that.

Only thirty seconds of blissful quiet later it starts up again. At the back door. Which is way closer to his bedroom and way more fucking annoying.

He drags himself out of bed, scratching his thigh only to realize he's still wearing his jeans from last night. Gross. Whatever.

He flicks the blinds open to check who's out there only to yelp and jump back like they burned him.

It's Billy.

Billy is at his place. Looking angry. 

"I can fucking see you, asshole, open the door."

Shit.

Shit.

"What's in it for me?" He winces as the words come out of his mouth. That…feels like the wrong thing to say. 

Eddie rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. They're still dry and gummy with sleep, he's maybe not operating at peak efficiency right now.

"You open the door and I don't bust your windows, how's that."

"...Alright, fair enough."

Fuck, now he kinda regrets not seeing Wayne last night. He wants to tell his uncle he loves him one more time before he fucking dies.

The lock sticks, like it always does, and he has to ram the door with his shoulder a couple times to wiggle it loose.

Billy crosses his arms, shoving past Eddie the second the door squeaks open. 

It's weird having him in the trailer. Being stuck in the cramped hallway, shoulders brushing the walls, with no choice but to be in each other's space. He never really noticed that Billy's a couple inches shorter than him. Or that he has tiny, faded freckles on his nose. 

Really not the time.

Eddie clears his throat and turns away to hip-check the door closed, leaning into it with two hands on the latch just to make sure it stays put. And to look busy for an extra couple seconds.

 "So, uhh." Eddie tries to run his fingers through his hair but his getting caught on tangles. Gnarly bedhead is the least of his worries right now, but it's on his mind anyways. "What brings you here?"

He sneaks a glance at Billy when he doesn't get a response. Billy chews on the inside of his cheek, adjusting his elbows til his arms are folded so tightly it looks uncomfortable. 

Jesus Christ, is he nervous? 

Why wouldn't he be, right, Eddie knows something that could ruin his entire life. But it's still…weird. He seemed so fired up when he was outside but now that they're face to face Eddie can see the cracks in his mask.

"You know why I'm here," he says eventually, unexpectedly quiet.

"Actually I was pretty sure you were here to murder me, but now I'm starting to have doubts."

Billy blinks at him. Just once, thrown off balance for a split second before he huffs, frustrated. "I should, you know. I should just fucking kill you and be done with it. I don't need this shit, not…" he trails off, his expression pinched. 

When Billy reaches into the pocket of his leather jacket, Eddie thinks for one stupid, terrifying moment that he's gonna pull out a weapon and actually murder him. 

But instead he produces a wad of bills, stuck together with a paperclip, and flicks it at Eddie's chest. He just barely catches it, fumbling for an embarrassing few seconds while Billy watches, unimpressed. 

"Are you…" Eddie squints at the money clutched in his fist, and starts again with an incredulous laugh, "Are you trying to buy my silence?"

A muscle in Billy's jaw twitches. He jerks his chin towards the cash. "Took it from Andy after you ran off."

What.

He looks a little closer, flipping through tens, wrinkled singles, that one twenty Chance drew tits on. It's…all the money he made last night. All of it. Every dollar those assholes shook out of his pockets while he was bleeding on the ground. 

Holy shit.

Wait, this is definitely a bribe.

Which, if he's being honest, wouldn't normally bother him, but in this situation just feels wrong. Giving the money back isn't an option—it was his in the first place—but taking it still makes his stomach twist. 

Eddie runs his free hand down his face, stopping to rub his mouth. The scab crusted on his chin throbs a little.

"Thanks," he says slowly. 

Billy doesn't react. 

Okay.

Eddie lets out a tiny breath to ground himself. "I didn't mean to, uh. Overhear. You two." Off to a bad start, Billy's posture goes rigid. But he presses on, hoping that clearing the air will help in the long run. And not get him punched in the short term. "I didn't, it was just. Wrong place, wrong time. And honestly, man, my plan was to just pretend I was never there in the first place, I swear."

He shrugs helplessly. "You guys don't have anything to worry about. Not from me."

There's a very long, awkward pause. Billy hardly moves, and doesn't look away for a second, pinning him in place with narrowed eyes. "I don't know you, Munson. Why should I trust you."

Christ, he really didn't want it to come to this. But he's floundering trying to come up with anything else to say. He rubs the back of his neck, and sighs. "Communal solidarity?" 

"What."

"'Cause I'm also a flaming queer." Well. At least it was slightly more delicate than how he came out to his uncle.

Billy rocks back on his heels, eyebrows shooting up. "Oh."

He looks genuinely disarmed, and this time it doesn't go away the second Eddie blinks.

God, he is fucking cute isn't he.

"So, are you and Harrington, like." Eddie taps two fingers together. "An official thing, orr…?"

Billy flushes pink. A pretty, pretty pink, in adorable little splotches across his nose and cheeks. It's way too fun to see him like this, Eddie almost doesn't care if he's already dating someone. "I…" He rubs his cheek, like he's trying to scrub away the blush. "Don't know," he mumbles.

Well. That's interesting. 

"Maybe, uh. Lemme know when you figure it out."

Billy snorts, a flicker of a real smile brightening his face. "Yeah. Maybe."

He can work with that.

~~tag list 💕 @spreckle @growup-thatbeautiful @prettyboy-like-you @suddenlyinlove

[xelasrecords]

Locus of Pain

Kim Jihyun x MC

NSFW

MC doesn't tell Jihyun she's hurt. He finds out anyway.

I'm back with smutty and messy ambiguous relationships! With GE Jihyun's personality. I will forever campaign for his GE personality until it becomes mainstream in fics and I don't have to put a disclaimer anymore.

TW: discussions on adult child abuse, self-destructive thoughts and actions, brief mild gore imagery, self-harm

Words: 4.5k

Masterlist Read on AO3

She stumbled into the apartment with a pained grunt.

She ought to feel bad for staining the floor with her blood, but she had more important matters to attend to. Her back was burning with lacerations and every step she took was straining the bruises that had burrowed into her muscles.

She tried not to swing her hands too much as she headed for the bathroom, disposing of her jacket at the foot of the bed. For once she was thankful for Rika's cramped apartment. It could be suffocating at times, but it was easy to live in. Jihyun said Rika had a taste of unassuming minimalism. She thought building a gilded emerald cult with thousands of followers was pushing the definition.

Gripping the edge of the sink, she clenched her jaw and started peeling off her blood-crusted shirt. The injuries shouldn't be too deep since the blood had stopped flowing down her back like a free-flowing motherfucker. But as she pulled the shirt over her head, it tore the barely knit skin apart, and warm blood started to trickle down again.

She cursed her thin epidermis. It was not supposed to tear over a mere picture frame thrown at it, even if the frame was large enough to cover half of the bedroom wall.

Her father had excellent aim and strength. He had proven that to her many times.

Sometimes she fantasised about breaking his skull in with a scorching hot pan, wondering if his hair would melt from the heat or if his eyes would bulge out of their sockets. Would he scream for her help? Would he plead for mercy or curse her for being a demon spawn? Then, she could blame him for fathering such an evil inside her.

Her stomach curdled with guilt. The resentment was hers alone, and he had loved her despite her selfishness. She couldn't shed away the primal care she had for him. She was her mother's daughter, after all.

Twisting her body in the mirror, she made a quick work of cataloguing her injuries. Two long gashes that dipped into her flesh but wouldn't require stitches, one blackening bruise near her ribs, and several cuts and bruises that stippled across her back. She tested her breathing. No wheezing. No punctured lung. An improvement from the last time. Jihyun wouldn't need to know.

She stepped into the shower and washed off the blood. The cold water chilled her bones. But it had to. It was better to feel all of it. She had asked for his wrath and now she dealt with the consequences. Besides, it helped with closing the wounds.

After she put on a pair of shorts, she reached for a bottle of alcohol from the medicine cabinet. Sharp gasps escaped her mouth every so often as she tried to pour just enough. Medicine was costly and she shouldn't waste it. The burn blinded her vision white and she hunched over the sink, focusing on the cold ceramic under her fingertips and the slicing of tiles beneath her bare feet.

When her sight had stopped swimming, she took a deep breath and bent her arm behind her in awkward angles to slap adhesive bandages to the wounded area. She grunted in frustration. It was tougher than she'd thought. She was nauseous from constantly looking up to check her reflection, the evening autumn draft was pricking at her exposed skin, and the plasters kept sticking to the wrong place.

She glared at the mirror. Do not faint.

How many nights had she spent patching herself up? And yet she still struggled. Her lack of progress was almost laughable.

She didn't think there were any glass shards embedded in her though. One good thing that came out of this. She tried not to think about the larger shard she had pocketed when the picture frame glass shattered, now buried under the bloody heap of clothes.

She froze when she heard someone punching in the door passcode.

She was about to kick her bathroom door close when Jihyun entered and switched on the lights from down the hallway. Their eyes locked, and he stopped in his tracks. Her throat constricted.

This was not how she wanted him to ever see her.

His face grew horrified, and he dropped his satchel in his rush to get to her. She had a fleeting worry that his satchel might have dropped onto the blood-stained floor and she might have ruined his fine leather bag.

Jihyun stood before her, his mouth opened and closed. She schooled her face into indifference and waited.

"You—" he started, "what happened?"

The impulse to lie was on the tip of her tongue, but she couldn't find a good reason to when he had caught her like this. She doubted he would believe her excuses. The day had been long and she was so tired.

"A jolly good ol' catch-up with my parents." Her tone was casual.

Jihyun watched her with a worried frown, then squeezed into the small space and ran the tap water through his hands. He was moving with a surprising efficiency as he lathered his hands with soap before scanning her injuries and her first aid supplies.

"Please let me help." His teal eyes were desperate. She had forgotten how luminous they were from up close. "You can't do this alone."

"You shouldn't have come here tonight."

"I'm well-versed in healing people," he urged. "I used to heal my own injuries when I was with Rika. I treated hers as well. I know enough, so you can trust me." His fingers twitched, almost reaching for her before dropping to his side. "Please."

More than the fact that she was found out, she hated that she had made Jihyun worry about her. The only thing she excelled at was to instil negative feelings in people who cared about her. Always wrath in her parents, sometimes concern in Jihyun.

Jihyun had never lost his head at her, but she was waiting for it to happen. No one had the patience of a saint, not even him.

It was a pity she had condemned him to another relationship where he had to play the caretaker. Letting him treat her would be an appropriate compensation for his scare. "Go on," she said. "But I should probably lie down."

Relief flooded his face. "That would be the best. Can you walk on your own?"

She nodded, but he held her arm and assisted her to the bed. He sat her down, slowly, and helped her settle into a comfortable position to lie prone in. She buried her face into the pillow that smelled faintly of mint leaves. It was Jihyun's side of the bed. It comforted her that he was permanent enough in her life that she could find traces of him in her private space.

"Has it always been this bad?" Jihyun asked quietly. The feeling of his lithe fingers inspecting her skin with clinical precision was unfamiliar. His touches were always loving, adoring, not stiff with anxiety. He had never seen her with weeping wounds. She had never let him into the truth.

"Only when I deliberately provoke them. Mother goes off the rails, father blames me for not caring about my own parents, I try to save myself before things escalate." She raised her head and smirked at him. "I don't always succeed though. Got a picture frame to my back, as you can see. Took being backstabbed by your family to the next level. They were supposed to hang it where their guests could see, but I doubt they'd hang it without the glass now. People would ask."

There was a brief silence before he spoke. "That's terrible." His voice was soft, barely a murmur. "I'm so sorry. I didn't know they are violent."

She shrugged. "You're not the one who should apologise. And they will anyway, once they think I've iced them out for too long. Not that it means anything."

He shook his head, and strands of aquamarine hair fell across his forehead. They softened the distress that wrought his features. "You're not a mouse they can play with."

"No, I'm just their daughter they can hurt," she said. Jihyun pressed a bandage against the grisliest gash across her back and she winced. "Do you think it'll scar?"

"It most likely will. Had it been any deeper, you would have needed stitches." He paused, his palm resting on her spine. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It didn't occur to me," she lied. She wanted to lay down her defences and curl into his arms. She didn't want to keep fighting for herself. There were times when escaping was better than fighting for nothing, but it wasn't something she could ask from him. Her cage was her own.

Jihyun's fingers curled against her skin, and she could sense the waves of sorrow unfurling around her. "Can you think of me from now on? It doesn't have to be all the time, moments when you are hurt will do. If you call, I will come."

"I think of you all the time, Jihyun."

"Oh. I didn't know that." The surprise was evident in his tone. He applied another bandage to her back, smoothing it cautiously over the raw wound. "But I know no one is meant to bear their burden alone. You have been through so much."

"So have you, love. I'm not special." She gave him a bitter smile. "Now, why did you come here unannounced?"

Jihyun studied her for several seconds. "I wanted to see you," he said. "You've been withdrawn lately, so I thought something had happened."

She chuckled. "I suppose this counts as something."

"I never had to imagine you in my position before," he said. "I thought you'd confide in me when you're hurt. It's what you always urge me to do. You taught me to be more trusting. But seeing you like this makes me realise how much fear you and Jumin must have felt when I took matters into my own hands." He let out a ragged sigh. "I don't know how I would cope if I came here one day and saw you unconscious on the floor."

Lucky he wasn't here when she blacked out from a concussion a few months ago.

She made a dismissive gesture. "Do as I say, not as I do."

"Only if you let me do the same thing."

She levelled a glare at him. "Definitely not."

Jihyun snorted but worked silently after. The stinging pain was dulling into low throbs. She had lost count of the bandages he used, but it must have been more than necessary. She felt the adhesives even on the spots that didn't require them. Jihyun was being excessive. After everything she had gone through, she was confident that a small, uncovered cut wouldn't be her reason to die.

He should know. He had been stabbed and was still alive fretting over her.

She heard him uncapping an ointment and felt a cool sensation on her skin. He carefully massaged the salve into the bruises, sending shivers throughout her body. How nice he was. How patient. How kind.

When he pushed her hair aside to tend to the base of her neck, her breath caught. His fingertips sent fire down her synapses. It had been so long since they did anything. The distance she put between them was growing taut. The farther she pulled, the harder she would crash back into him.

Her arm moved on its own accord when she grabbed Jihyun's fingers and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. The strong herbal scent from the salve burned her nose, but this smooth hand was his. Hers.

Jihyun was always there for her to come back to.

He was not home. Home, to her, was not something that she ever longed to go. It was the misery that strangled her into obedience and shrunk her world into a dark, bleak place to survive in.

He was her sanctuary on a far-off island. Nothing could get to them when they were together.

Jihyun let out a light chuckle that sang to her heart. "Let me wash my hands. I don't want to make you any more ill."

She squeezed his hand. "I missed you too, you know. I'm glad you're with me."

He stilled, then crouched beside her head. He tucked the hair that obscured her face behind her ear and kissed her temple before gently wrestling his hand out of her grasp. The shape of his lips was just as she remembered it.

She watched him rinse the blood from her clothes and exhaled in relief when he didn't stray to her trousers' pocket. She watched him clean his hands with water trickling down his forearms, the brown sleeves of his sweatshirt pulled up and collecting water at the elbows. She watched him storing the first aid kit and medicines in the cabinet to her preferred arrangement. She watched him doing useless things for her.

When Jihyun climbed into the bed and rested against the headboard, she asked, "Do you know what the worst part of this is?"

He stared down at her, eyes carrying a heavy sorrow. "That your parents don't know how to love you?"

"Not even close." She rolled her eyes. "I've known that all my life. Not being able to lean against anything is the real tragedy. Look at me, I can't even sit comfortably beside you."

"But you can come closer," he said slowly.

She raised her brows but let him guide her to lie on his chest, his fingers resting on her bare shoulders.

He was clothed and she wasn't and it was something she needed to rectify.

She tangled her leg around his and relaxed her head against his beating heart. It was thrumming to a rising tempo that mirrored hers. She toyed with a loose thread on the neck of his sweatshirt. "I wish you weren't so good at fixing up injuries like mine. I wish you never had to learn."

"It's all in the past now." He slipped his fingers into the gaps between hers and clasped them. "I'd go through it again if I had known it would help alleviate your pain."

She snapped up at him. "Your martyr streak needs to stop."

"I have stopped. Just allow me this one exception." He planted a chaste kiss on her mouth, then cleared his throat. "Will you meet your parents again?"

She tightened the thread around her forefinger until it looked like diagonally dissected blocks of meat and she could barely feel its existence. "I know they do horrible things sometimes, but I can't cut them off. It's not that easy. I still love them. When they're not mad, they can be easy to love."

Jihyun frowned at her finger and gently untangled the thread before snapping it off. "That's what makes leaving harder, isn't it?" The haunting in his face revealed the extent of horrors that he had experienced. An angel with a darkened, torn soul who was still rising high above. He was not her. She liked that about him. "It's easier to hate someone when they have only been awful to you. It's their residual goodwill that gives you hope that they will change. When I look back to how stubbornly I stood beside Rika, I understand. Left in the dark, we cling to the light. We forget who trapped us there in the first place."

She didn't want to admit that Jihyun was right. That he was right, yet it would not change anything.

She wondered if she had been drawn to him because the subconscious part of her knew he would understand. Jihyun knew how to make her feel less alone in the guilt and resentment and twisted love that she couldn't untangle herself from. Most people were not like him. She learned from a young age that if people found out about the abuse, they would either urge her to leave—which added unnecessary pressure on her because it was never an option—or give her pitiful looks while stumbling over their words.

"Jihyun," she said.

He drew his thumb over her chin. "Yes?"

"Don't go." She pushed herself up and crashed her lips into his.

It was fervent, maddening, and she poured all the tension from their time of separation into it. The yearning to see him. The stress from her parents meddling with her happiness. Everything she had been missing after being alone for so long.

Jihyun reciprocated with more caution, treading her lips like they were a treasure trove. He gave in eventually when she didn't show a sign of discomfort, his kiss matching her intensity.

She bit his lower lip and slipped her tongue into his mouth. He gripped her shoulders, pulling her closer until she was pressed against him. His hands were not sliding down her waist and everywhere else like he tended to. He kept his hold staunchly on her arms even as he deepened the kiss.

It hit her what he was doing. He was being considerate of her battered body.

She let out a sob into his mouth. Nobody had ever cared for her like this. She could stand all the violence flung at her, but one act of kindness felled her to her knees.

Jihyun pulled away in an instant, his glazed eyes searching across her face and body. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. "I was just thinking about you. You're wonderful. I missed you." Jihyun's expression was guarded, appraising her, and she let him. She had spoken the truth. She offered the truth so rarely that she would not omit more of it if it concerned his regard for himself. "I'm fine, Jihyun."

He gave a slow nod, and she tugged off his cashmere sweater. With a tender touch, she ran her hand through the ragged red patches of skin that stood out against his pale torso. Burn scars from a house fire. Both of them had childhood wounds woven into their very being. The past was made permanent on their skin.

Jihyun squirmed, seemingly self-conscious, despite her being familiar with the scars, but he made no attempts to stop her. He was beautiful, body and soul, she thought. He had more love and forgiveness in him than anyone she had ever known.

She trailed kisses along his jaw and sucked on the juncture behind his ear. He moaned and curved his body against her, and she smiled into his neck. It was amusing, the reactions that she could elicit out of him. No one could touch him as she could. He did not let anyone else know him intimately like this. He was only for her.

She suspected all of this played into his pleasure as well.

She twined her fingers around his hair, marvelling at the softness of it, and pulled it back to bare his throat. He had such a beautiful throat.

She didn't apply much pressure as she wrapped her hand around it, but his breath hitched. Her lips curved into a sly smile, her other hand wandering down his hard bulge. "I don't know why being choked always turns you on."

Jihyun held his gaze on her despite his reddening complexion. "I can feel you wanting me when you hold me like this."

"I do want you." She swung her leg astride him, straddling his hips and rested her forehead against his. The hard-on beneath her was hard to ignore. "It drives me out of my mind when I can't be with you."

"You shouldn't have pushed me away," he murmured. "I'll still want you, however you are, whatever condition you are in. You're always just you to me. Nothing can make me want you less."

"I'm sorry," she said. Jihyun closed his eyes, and she kissed his eyelid with a gentleness that she reserved only for him. "I'm sorry I left you alone."

He cradled her cheek, and she basked in the warmth of it. The safety of him. He was here and she couldn't fight the temptation to lose herself in him. "You didn't leave me alone. I belong with you. Anywhere you run to, you take me with you. I'm yours."

She tightened her hold on his throat to see his reaction. "You're mine," she whispered.

A slow smile graced his delicate face. "I am. I'm yours."

Jihyun drew her closer by the elbow and peppered kisses on her mouth, her chin, her throat, and her collarbones. He palmed her breasts and sucked her nipple while tweaking the other with his fingers. They hardened at his touch and she moaned his name, demanding him to be harder, rougher.

She needed to feel everything.

He bit her nipple and her hand slipped to the base of his skull, grasping at his hair. He was hers. His action and devotion were hers. It sent a deluge of pleasure down her core. Jihyun could be gentle, but he was also earnest to give her the satisfaction she sought.

She wanted him. She wanted him. She wanted him more than the freedom from her wretched life.

"I love you." She tipped his chin back. "I love you, Jihyun. Remember it."

He smiled up at her, his pupils blown wide with lust. "I love you, too."

She reached down and unbuckled his trousers. She had done more strenuous activities in a worse state, so fucking him wouldn't damage her already mangled body. But Jihyun stilled her wrist when he saw through her intention.

She narrowed her gaze. "I'm on the pill."

"You're hurt," he said. "I don't want to worsen your injuries."

"Have you not treated them?"

His grip wasn't loosening. "You need more time to heal. The wounds may open again."

"Then go slow."

Jihyun hesitated.

"Please," she croaked.

As soon as she uttered the word, she knew she had him. He sighed, but let go of her wrist. "You'll have to be careful. I'm stopping this if you push yourself too far."

"Brilliant."

Jihyun pulled down his trousers while she discarded her shorts. She lowered herself into him, relishing in the feel of him filling her. He ran his hands up and down her waist tentatively until he was sure that he wasn't touching any of the injuries on her back. Only then did he allow himself to move into her with practised ease. She held onto his shoulders and rolled her hips in tandem, burying her face into his neck and letting him control the pace. Jihyun had meant his warning and she was not eager to risk it.

It felt new. It felt familiar. It was what she had yearned for. His low grunts, her body slanting forward to hit the right spot, their skin sticking to each other in sweat and slick wetness.

Jihyun was slow, unhurried, with faint caresses down her back. His concern for her was easy to read. He was tracing back the pain that he couldn't protect her from. He might no longer bear a debilitating guilt, but she didn't think he could ever eradicate his need to shield her from misfortunes.

She couldn't blame him. It was the same with her, though the abuse done to her wasn't something that anyone could simply take away, and they both knew it.

She bit his earlobe, mumbling, "It's not your fault."

Jihyun tilted his face, and his lips brushed her cheek. "It's not yours either."

She stopped caring whose fault her source of agony was and thrust into him, picking up the pace while she dug her nails into his arms. He didn’t stop her, his hand snaking down to find her bundle of nerves instead.

She gasped and arched her back when he rubbed her. She was vaguely aware of the sharp jabs of pain in her back, but she welcomed them. Pain grounded her into him.

Jihyun's fingers were vigorous, and his thrusting was getting rougher that it twisted the coil in her lower abdomen. She writhed with need, whispering to him not to stop, and he listened, and it brought her higher and higher until the coil snapped.

She cried out in ecstasy.

Jihyun kept to his pace as she rode out the climax, not stopping despite her trembling legs and clearing haze. She focused on him overwhelming her in a way that annihilated her need for anything else. The alkaline tang of paint that lingered on him. His tightening grip on her bottom as she felt him reaching his climax. Him twitching inside her when he finally did, his muscles tensing as he came inside her. His pleasure-struck face that entranced her every time.

He was a marvel to look at, to have. He was hers. He had proclaimed it. He was the forest that shrouded her from the vultures circling above, the soft sand that sank her deeper into him with each pull of the waves, the hearth that kept her warm through the barren cold. With him, she could breathe.

She would give him everything he wanted. She would not let him go.

She slumped against him, their mixed fluids seeping down her thighs. He slipped out of her and she kissed the underside of his jaw. "I love you."

Jihyun's breath was still racing as he drew circular patterns on her shoulder blades. "Your parents didn't hurt you because you provoked them. They hurt you because they're abusive. It's not your fault."

She sighed. She had hoped he would let it go, but nothing could stop him once he made up his mind. "Knowing it doesn't make it any better."

"Do you really think so?" He ran his thumb up her inner forearm. She flinched and tried to jerk away, but he held onto her. The deepest scars had faded to silver, but the fresher ones were raised ridges along her skin. She had been careful, small cuts scattered on an easily hidden spot. She didn't realise he would notice. "Isn't this your form of penance?"

Her chest tightened. "It's the only thing I have control over. If I blame them and direct all my anger at them, I will hurt them. This way, the only person I hurt is myself. I'm not a weapon. I'm not a threat."

"Don't you think you've been hurt enough?"

She wore a thin smile and looked away. "Sure."

Jihyun's hands slid up her jaw and tilted her head back to him, his fingers resting on the pulse points on her neck. "You can be angry around me. It's natural to want to express your emotions. They're not something you're supposed to keep to yourself. Talk to me when you feel like turning to self-mutilation. I'm yours, remember? My ears are yours to talk to. My shoulders are for you to lean on."

She surveyed his pleading gaze with a twinge of pity. Jihyun was asking for more than he was supposed to receive. In time, he would see it.

Another waiting game had begun. She almost did not want to see the ending.

"All right. I'll do that."

-

Footnotes:

I went with Jihyun because I thought he'd be an interesting choice. The role reversal and all. He's forced to confront how he is seen through MC's eyes when he's involved in dangerous situations and refuses help.

MC's relief for living in Rika's suffocating apartment at the beginning parallels her feeling trapped in the familial cage that she doesn't want to leave. There's a reason why she doesn't move out of the apartment even after the cult drama is over. She's a bird caged too long that she can't take flight even if the door is open. She's not capable of leaving things behind, so she hoards everything she can (Jihyun) to herself.

MC thinking that her father "had loved her despite her selfishness" is the product of her parents' manipulation. Her belief that she's selfish if she feels negative emotions and wants anything at all is what drives her self-destruction, and ironically, her possessiveness.

With Jihyun, it's easy to make him fall into the rescuer role when the partner self-harms, so I was very mindful of depicting the discovery scene. I didn't want to romanticise it and make MC feel like if she got hurt more, she'd get more attention from him. Since this is GE Jihyun, he wouldn't default back to his old enabling methods.

I was dubious about making MC self-harm since I don't want this to be a gratuitous checklist of trigger warnings, but it makes sense for her to turn to cutting. If she has to be hurt, it might as well be by herself. Might as well be on her terms.

The nature metaphors are to show Jihyun's and MC's common interest in nature.

Are they actually in love or is it just oxytocin and loneliness? Who knows?

I felt pressured to write a romantic fic, but I haven't been able to these days so I turned to this. It brought relief somehow. This was cathartic.

I used to think I'd never write a possessive character in a non-antagonising light yet here we are. I compared this MC to the one from Wedge the Knife Under My Skin, but this one is blunter with her words and well, more possessive. She's bitter and sarcastic and resigned to her suffering. Fortunately, Jihyun is secure enough to see through her sharp defences.

The title is a twist on the locus of control concept in psychology, which is about a person's degree of belief on how much of their internal force governs their external life.

I don't know why I like to throw Jihyun into ambiguous relationships either.

Header Corner:

A quick process breakdown! Add a directional blur to the base footage > duplicate the footage, slightly shift the position and change the blur direction to get the hazy look > add a red filter overlay to fit the fic's bloody mood but retain the magenta in the background to resonate with the romance aspect > choose the appropriate angsty text and font!

[lysarria]

A Comforting Captain

This is a random Sy fic idea that I had. I am new to the fic writing world. Please excuse my typing errors. Thank you for reading ❤️🤗

Warnings: Period cramps. Fluff.

We are both up bright and early. Sy had returned home from tour a couple of weeks ago. He was making some coffee and I was getting myself ready to go on a run. Sy usually joins me when he is home but this morning he had plans with some of his buddies and helping out with a house renovation. I offered to help but they said they were good and that some other guys were coming over as well to help.

I hugged and kissed Sy before leaving and I couldn't resist from giving his booty a quick pinch. I ran out the door giggling and hoping he wouldn't catch me before I got into his truck.

I went to one of our favorite nature parks and completed a 6 mile run. I knew Sy would be busy for a while so I decided to visit some stores while I was out and about. Checking my phone I had a text from Sy.

Sy Bear:

Hey Dumplin'. Hope you had a great run. I'm sure you kicked its ass. We have to go pick up more supplies for the renovation. Love ya bunches.

Replying back -

Absolutely crushed it! Hope the renovation is going well. I am going by a couple of stores before heading home. I love you too, bear.

Shopping was a success. I get home and take all the bags inside and unload. Picked up some groceries so I could cook one of Sy's favorite meals. He wasn't home yet so I jumped into the shower. Ready to wash away the sweat and feel refreshed. Towards the end of my shower I am hit with severe cramps. I knew my period was soon and it was letting me know it had arrived. Sometimes they are extremely painful and sometimes it's almost like nothing. Trying to quickly finish up my shower and also dealing with extremely sharp painful cramps. Once out I take medication for the pain. Drying off and looking for clothes to wear. I pulled one of his shirts out. They are always a comfort for me. I was going to call Sy but instead I decided to text him. I didn't want to disturb him while he's busy. I just wanted to let him know that I wasn't feeling well from the cramps and that I was going to lay down.

Hitting send and putting my phone down. I laid curled up in bed in pain and hoping the medicine would start to work soon. I was starting to drift off to sleep and then I felt the bed dip and Sy wrapping his arms around me and asking if I'm okay. I told him he didn't have to stop helping to come home for me and that it wasn't my intentions at all. He explained that they were basically done for the day as the guys had plans for the afternoon and also I was the most important person in his life and he wants to be there for me and take care of me.

I was still dealing with bad cramps. Sy had gotten out of bed and left the room. I start to hear things being moved around in the kitchen and he shouts "Gimme a minute Bug".

I hear him come back into bedroom and he walks around to my side. I opened my eyes and look up and he's holding a bag. He pulls out a heating pad and plugs it in for me and places it on me. Then he reaches into the bag and pulls out some delicious baked goods from a local bakery and places them on the nightstand. Reaching in the bag again he pulls out a cute plush he spotted while he was trying to find a heating pad. I am basically in tears and told him he didn't have to do all that for me and he told me to hush that nonsense and he'd do anything for me and loves me. He leaned down and kissed my lips and said he's going shower. I laid there holding the plush tightly with waves of different emotions hitting me. How did I end up so lucky. To have such a great man in my life. He was my world and all I ever wanted. I heard the shower turn off and he walked out a few minutes later in his boxers. Closing the blinds and turning the TV so it's better angled towards the bed. He hands me the remote and leaves the room and comes back and places a couple of drinks for us on the nightstand. He asked if I needed anything and I said only you. Giving me that cute grin and a wink he then walks around and crawls into bed. Wrapping his strong loving arms around me and pulling me against him. I turned my head to kiss him. Looking into those beautiful blue eyes. Damn period giving me all these extra emotions and tears start up again. He wipes them away and tells me he's happy he's home and able to take care of me. We laid snuggled up together in bed with one of our favorite movies playing. Feeling the warmth of his body and the heating pad had reduced a lot of the pain. Holding his hand tightly as we snuggle. At random times he would place soft kisses on my neck and ask how I am feeling. Just him being there makes me feel better. My eyes start to get heavy. I notice his breathing has started to slow down and he has fallen asleep. I turned off the heating pad and turned the movie volume down. I slowly turned to look at my bear sleeping. I whisper I love you Sy and placed a light kiss on his lips. I turn back and closed my eyes and quickly fell asleep with my comforting Captain.

[justablah56]

Since you seem to be having a bad day, I threw together a little ficlet for you. Read/respond at your leisure (whether that's in 3 minutes or not until next year)

It had been a long fucking day.

It was a full day of teaching for Terry Jr, with a bad cold wiping out the entire drama department of San Dimas High (which had only been two teachers and a tech in the first place). There was screaming, and snotty noses, and one or two kids bursting into tears, and by the time the school bell rang, he was just about ready to collapse. And, of course, that was clearly asking too much, because it was drama club that day. 2 whole hours of dealing with kids who are meant to be off book two weeks ago, and still hadn't learnt half their lines. It was a fucking nightmare.

Now, dear reader, don't misunderstand. Terry absolutely adored his job and the kids he worked with. But today was one of those days where you just want to roll over and hide back under the covers.

The train had been cramped and noisy, even if the journey had been mercifully free from the kids usual loud arguments. (Why they insisted on riding back with Terry Jr, he had no idea. It was baffling though that Scary waited for him, and they were going to the same house. Although, somehow, her friends always seemed to stay over longer than expected.) Honestly, it was a relief to lock the door behind them all, the kids rushing off to the garden for soccer practice - mostly moral support to be honest.

Terry wearily pulled off his shoes, before turning to Scary.

"Hey, kiddo, I'm gonna go have a lie down. Let your mom know, okay?"

Scary, for once, didn't seem to protest either the request or the nickname. She just nodded, frowning.

"Yeah, sure. Go have a nap or whatever." He ruffled her hair a little (this did elcit an irritated groan. He may not be her dad, but she was still his kid and it was his duty to embarrass her in front of her friends after all) and headed upstairs.

Terry didn't bother to turn on the lights as he collapsed down into the bed, just letting himself he enveloped by the darkness and the comfy sheets. He felt bad about breaking his normal routine of kissing Veronica when they both got home, but honestly he just couldn't handle doing anything other than laying down right now.

He lay there with his head burried in the pillow for maybe a minute, maybe an hour, when he felt the bed dip.

"Hey, Tear-Bear. Bad day?"

There was his amazing wife, the light of his life. Her hair was flying loose from her bun, and even in the dark Terry could see that her office clothes were slightly rumpled.

She was stunning.

"You know, you gotta stop picking up Nicky's pet names. He has far too many." Terry mumbled as he grabbed her hand, tiredly bringing it up to his lips.

"Ah, but that would mean I don't get to hang out with your wife as much. Darling." A familiar weight draped itself over him, tail curling round his leg. "Dropping round unexpectedly and hanging out with V without you is half the fun."

Nicky's voice was a soothing rumble against his chest. Somehow, just having his two partners here made it easier to relax. Even if Nicky had definitely not announced that he'd be coming over. Veronica kicked her feet up and slung an arm over Terry's shoulder, pulling him closer.

"Come on, time for you to rest, TJ."

okokok I've hoarded this fic long enough , ive probably reread this AT LEAST 5 times now xnsnmsms anyways it means *so very much* to me that you decided to write an adorable little ficlet for me bcs i was not feeling good <3333 this lil fic is literally *so* cute i don't know how to properly convey to you how much i love this but icy i love this so much . thank you <33333

[aggressivenesswhilecrying]

I think I know what's coming (and I just don't care.)

Summery:

Martyn lives an everyday life, he goes to work, he deals with his personal traumas away from the view of everyone else. And he likes to think he's rather smart.

Scott has a nice house he got after the death of someone in his family, he has a decent job, even if it is customer service. And he likes to think he's rather normal.

In which Scott tip toes the lines of mortality and his so supposed normalness, and martyn in his intelligence.

TW!! Kidnapping, violence, a party scene involving alcohol, and that sort of thing!!

Bata read but not edited!!

(This fic goes to @toomanyfandomsorkinafs!! <3 I thought I might follow this up with a nice note, as your Christmas gift, it's like I'm giving you a card!! Take a look at the bottom of the fic once done<333)

Now, martyn likes to say he's no idiot. When you come from a bad home. You don't tend to be one, even when you're disconnected from reality, you still keep your ears sharp, and mind running.

Waliing to the bookshop is a very normal thing now. He doesn't care to do the math, but he got this job early spring, and bow its late fall, the small drown building with the front covered in windows to display the books, welcoming him. He waves at the batista in the cafe just next door, cramped together on the street, side to side. The blue haired man, nodding to martyn, a large grin on his face, yet relaxed. He seems almost pleased. But martyn doesnt bother. Huffing a laugh, he pushes open the glass and dark oak doors. Rough concrete turning to soft, but itchy short carpet.

Working behind the counter, her shift almost over is cleo. Long wavy orange hair pulled back into a bun on the back of her head thats honestly seems lose enough to be almost falling apart. And Cleo is tense, she keeps on flexing her hands, but her face stays neutral. She must have gotten in another fight with etho over their sons. Bdubs and scar. She's only like this after a really tense argument. His brain can't help but supply. He doesn't really question why his eyes can't seem to focus, but he can notice cleos body language.

He takes the flat billed baseball cap off, hanging it up on the coat rack. Along with his too long trench coat he got from the thrift shop down the street, just a few days ago after work, just to fight off the cold for a little bit.witu snow on the horizon, he feels he might need to go back and get something a little warmer.

Cleo shuffles out from behind the small counter, nodding at martyn as she grabs hers own coat and more suitable for the weather, beanie. Pulling her hair out of the frankly awful, and stressful bun, she tugs the hat right on over, she doesn't bink when putting on on the beanie. Grumbling when it gets her bangs a bit in her eyes.

They don't need to say anything, they've know eachother long enough to know this isn't a day for words. Cleo most definitely had another custody argument. And she looks at martyn, how he seems to be far away, deep in his head, and his hands shake with tremors, and his jaw stays locked. They don't need words today, not when the sound if a too loud car makes martyn freeze in his place, half way to the counter.

Cleo walks out with a nod, the bell dinging behind her. And martyn wastes no idea digging into the new inventory. Boxes pilled in the back that they just haven't had room for yet, just calling his name. A simple task he doesn't have to tune in for. Perfect.

Martyn isn't sure how long he takes, but 3 out of God knows how many, boxes down, and the tremors are subsiding just a bit.

He isn't quite sure what set him off today. He had went to make breakfast, but he had to wash a few dishes first, and he couldn't find a fork, and since he was already doing a few, he decided to just do them all, but he couldn't find his gloves either, and when he did he already lost motivation, but he still did them, and next thing he knew, his podcast was too loud, and his hands hurt from holding dishes, his feet also hurt from standing, weird, he swore he hadn't been standing that long, and fuck, a plate broke. A plate fucking broke and can't find all the pieces, and he doesn't want to ruin his gloves and-

Well, he was shaking, and his breath was uneven, and his Brain felt clogged, and his lips were far too dry.

He decided on just eating a granola bar.

He doesn't know why the tremors stayed all the way till work, and hours later, bit, he can't do much about them, not really, he just has to deal with it, and no think about how his ears are ringing, and his legs are shaking too, oh fuck, his legs are shakin-

His thoughts were cut off when his legs decided to attempt to fall in, like martyn thought of them magic word. Barely catching himself on a bookshelf.. only for, well, everything tends to go wrong when your over stimulated, doesn't it?

Martyn composed with the bookshelf, and the books, and, he cant...he can't think straight, his mind and eyes too blurry, he's shaking too much.

"F-Fuck..." his voice trembled out the angry words, trembling like his hands, his breath, his legs.

It took martyn far longer, and far more trouble to get the books and bookshelf back up. He couldn't stop shaking. Afterwards, with his aching just, body. He thought it was best to sit behind the counter. Checking his watch it had only been and hour since he got in to work. He swore it should have been longer. But his mind lies about the time, and the clock doesn't.

Too far, or too little into the time, the ble haired man walks in, all confident, browsing the books. Scarf tight to keep the cold out, work uniform still on. And a thick, bushy coat. He sighs in relief at the warm and martyn can't help but find him beautiful.

Martyn loves the people that come into book stores sometimes, friendly tired moms, who try to be as nice as their young ones beg to leave. Elderly who call him sweetie, and promise to bring cookie next time, but always forget. Students just trying to get their school books just a little bit cheaper. People aimlessly looking for a gift for someone, even if they don't read a lot.

And if course, pretty, young people, looking for something to occupie their mind for a little bit.

The blue haired man falls under that category, with curled blue hair to one side, and blue eyes like ice. Lanky with a sort of elegance that almost feels dangerous. And his he/him pronoun pin, and gay man pride flag pin.

Everyday, but thrusdays, that he head into eirk, the man is at the cafe, and they wave, and once a week. Sometimes more, he comes in, buys a fantasy novel, or a queer romance novel, and leaves on his way. With small talk that makes martyn both nervous, and a little excited.

The man walks just as he foes everywhere week, seems almost drawn to the horror novels, but ingotes it, ignores it and goes to the romance. Martyn wonders a little, why he doesn't look at it. Why he doesn't buy one, why his handshakes over the covers, then Jenks back like he was burned. Martyn can't say he loves the horror they get, but he does enjoy it, every so often, he'll sir down with one of them, read ad long as he can, and let the idea someone could love him so much, they go insane, rot in his mind.

But, maybe the man has skeletons in the closet he isn't ready to show. Martyn can't Blane him, when he has some of his own. The soft music plays. And martyn can't help but chuckle as the man sways to it as he searches. Mouthing the words as he reads the back of a book. And martyn can see the edges of a scar from his neck but it doesn't matter, the man is walking up, a book in hand, and martyn is ready.

"Soooo, blondie, you haven't told me your name yet?" The tall man huffs happily, a grin playing at his lips, and like the rest of the day is gone, martyn huffs a laugh, holding his hand out of the book but the man just leans on the counter. Hunched over, elbow on the counter, head in his hand, tilted at martyn like that man would rather be no where else.

"Gimmie your book asshole..!!" Martyn huffs out, voice a laugh, eyebrows scrunching, and he's glad he pinned back his bangs today, he would hate for them to get in the way of the view when the man rolls his eyes.

"Nope!! Name first!!" He giggles while poping the p, to really add to it, tilting his head almost completely upside-down at martyn, clearly trying to get him to laugh, and martyn hates to admit he snorted at it, his face wrinkling. And the man's kinda stares, face going a bit red around the edges, but his grin only grows.

"I don't even know your name!!" Martyn huffs, crossing his arms, raising an eyebrow at the now pink in the face man. His flush only getting worse, and martyn knows the logical answer, probably just getting embarrassed, nothing big.

"I'll tell you my name, and give you the book, if you tell me yours first!!" The man tries to bargain, setting his head the right way once again. Curled hair falling just a enough to get in his eyes.

Martyn huffs, feeling his own face redden. Shaking his head, he can't believe how just...silly this all is!! He also can't believe his own tounge. "Martyn. Martyn littlewood." He sighs, unable to wipe away his own grin, as the man sits up, and passes him the book, smoothing down his outfit.

"Scott major, it's wonderful to formally know you martyn!!" He practically giggles out as the loud ding of martyn swiping the book rings out.

"Well, Scott major, your total is 24.67"

Martyn isn't ashamed to say it goes on like that for a while. A few more weeks go by, once a week, turns into twice a week, turns into buying a book twice a week, but coming to visit 2 other days. And before martyn knows it. He's spending his lunch at the cafe with Scott. He's even stopping for a coffee before work.

He has absolutely no clue what Scott is doing with all these books, but honestly, they're spending so much time, dilly dallying at their workplaces, martyn forgets to ask.

Martyns remembers it very very clearly, mostly becuase it had been one of the most nerve wrecking moments in his entire life. Martyn had been sorting the shelves when Scott came in, pearl working behind the counter, her hair pulled back, and in a rather simple winter outfit, a tan turtle neck, a pair of black high waisted jeans, and tan winter boots. Martyn won't deny, it looked good on her. But, well, Scott frozen in his place from the sight of pearl and martyn talking. He could see the man's hands twitch, and martyn felt an inkling of fear. Of worry.

But this is Scott. There's nothing to worry about, Scott that refused to let martyn pay for his coffee, Scott, who's shift got over 2 hours before martyns, and always made sure to stop in. Scott who he well, he trusted. And well, he hopes he can trust him for no conflict. In the times Scott had been coming, martyn was almost exclusively alone. Cleo had the morning shift, martyn had the day shift, and pearl had the evening shift. Early, 5am, cleo would open, work till 1pm, then martyn would come in, hed work till 8, and in their over night book store. Pearl would work from 8, to 3am. Little business but, you'd be surprised how many people go wandering late at night for a book. But all in all, this is almost everyday. Big B would work in a range of shifts, and he often worked martyns shift on Saturday.

But really, there normally wasn't enough of them, to work multiple at a time really. So, for Scott to see pearl, well, it was a bit of a surprise to say the least.

Martyn rose to his feet with a groan, his back poping from the hunched over position he was in on the floor. Hand on the bookshelf he was sitting infront of for just a moment to bend back and pop his back once more, before walking over to the counter, and waving Scott over.

Scott seemed almost hesitant, but, he smoothed out his shirt, and a look of almost anger, turned into one of calm, relaxed details. Walking over with a small grin he waved to martyn, seeming to be ignoring pearl.

"Scott, this is pearl, my coworker, she normally has the shift right after me" he gestured to pearl, a small grin on his face as he looked Scott in the eyes, blue eyes seeming to calm down at the sight of martyn paying attention to him.

"Pearl, this is Scott, my regular, and, well, a friend of mine, he works at that cafe" he chuckled, gesturing to Scott. But looking pearl in the eyes. He isn't quite sure why he brought up where Scott works, he is in his work clothes still, after all.

Scott wouldn't say he's a jealous person. Not really. But rage boiled in his chest, the Jaws of an ugly beast threatening to wrap around and crush any chance at a friendship him and pearl have. He isn't quite sure why it bothers him so much. Martyn can have friends outside of him. For fucks sake. Scott has friends outside of martyn!!

"It's nice to meet you pearl!!" He chuckled, looking pearl in the eyes and sticking out his hand. It almost seemed like dead movement martyn acknowledged. And martyn can't see the look in scotts eyes, but he can see the shiver up pearls spine, he can see how she almost looks uncomfortable around him. Shaking his hand almost hesitantly

"Pleasure to meet you..." she mumbled, looking him in his eyes, squinted as she tried to read something about him. Before nodding, relaxing, a grin coming to her mouth as she let go of his hand.

Martyn nodded to where he was sitting before, a delight grin on his face as he jabbed Scott in the arm.

"Come on, we, have some cds to sort" he giggled walking away as he heard the cafe worker gasp in offense, following after. He can see Scott come to stand next to him out of the corner of his eye, slowly sitting back down in his spot. The blue eyed man following suit.

"Since when did it become 'we'?!" He huffed, narrowing his eyes as he leaned forward, tilting his head at martyn, much like a puppy would before starting to play with you, and martyns cheeks couldn't help but redden at the thought.

"I'll have you know, I just got off work, I cane to hang out, and now you're having me be social, AND, do your job?!"He sat back, crossing his arms with a huff, turning his face away, a pout playing at his lips that only made martyns cheeks a brighter red.

And still, martyn, has absolutely no clue why he did it, it may have been an impulse, or he just felt it was right, or he just, really wanted to. But martyn leaned over, and kissed the man's cheek. "Will that make you help me out some?" He whispered, voice quiet, and almost trembling, as he stayed in scotts personal space. The blue haired man lighting up in a beautiful shade of red that had martyn leaning back and turning into a red faced, giggling idiot.

Scott just nodded limby, mouth slightly open in surprise, the corners of his mouth quirking up.

Scott doesn't know why he did it. He can't come up with a single reason why. This isn't the kind of thing he'd do. He had no clue why he was so ready to do it. He just...hell, he may havel been planning it. He doesn't know. He can't even been super sure he even regretted it.

It had happened by pure coincidence really. He got invited to a holiday party joel and his girlfriend lizzie were hosting and it really just, turns out that lizzie knew pearl. She knew pearl well. The shorter women followed around by pearl, casually talking the entire time. In his hands was a far too sweet cocktail he believes mumbo made, he couldn't be sure, but it coated his throat in syrup and left a sickeningly sweet taste in his mouth.

He saw pearl stand there awkwardly as lizzie got whisped away by some other people. All their voices too loud, all their cups mostly empty, and all smelling of the sickeningly sweet alcohol. So with far too much confidence and bad intentions. He moved across the too loud room, people shoving into him, almost making him spill his drink. His nose wrinkling at the strong smell of fireball one left behind.

He huffed in relief as he flopped down on the chair neck to pearl. On the couch just a few feet away, a man was snorring while sitting up, his girlfriend holding his sleeping hand as she talked with people who came and went, talking softly even if the room was roaring in sound. Scott nodded to them as they paid not an ounce of attention to him

"Well, would you look at that..!! Chivalry isn't dead..!!" He chuckled, and pearl snorted, finally looking over to him. A sad sort of grin on her face, as she sat down on the floor, back to the arm of the chair. Legs curling up to her chest, cup abandoned at her side.

Scott let her stay silent for a moment, clearly thinking something, or not having the words in her. Loud stupid pop music playing on some speakers. Pearl seeming to almost be breathing heavily, eyes still trained on lizzie.

“I heard they might be getting married…” Pearl whispers out. And Scott doesn't need to her to say who she's talking about her voice shaking lightly.

“I'm so sorry about that…if it makes you feel any better, I once dated a man for 2 years, only to find out he was married the entire time, had a family and all!!” He huffs, scowling slightly before sighing, a small laugh bubbling up in his throat. And pearl let's out a hiss in sympathy, and Scott just pats her shoulder. “What I'm saying is she isn't the only one like that out there. You'll find someone else who takes your breath away all over again” he says, voice soft as he moves to be leaning back.

Pearl flounders for words, leaning back against the chair, hair a tangled mess getting onto scotts lap. “I…I'm just…so tired of being so just…alone. All the time..” she whimpers, hands coming to wipe away the forming tears as she starts to bable “and she just…she made me feel like I wasn't alone, like I had somewhere, where someone wanted me, where she wanted me…and now she's off,possibly about to be engaged, like we didn't hang out at my place last week, watching Christmas movies and cuddling, and just…” she groans out. Curling back up into a ball, refusing to look anywhere else.

And Scott sees this as his chance really. Standing up slowly, he holds out a hand for her, a reassuring smile on his face, but his blood boils. He feels it popping and snapping in his chest. And he isn't quite sure why.

“Come on, I don't think we need to be here anymore.” He trials off, his grin only growing as she uses his hand to pull herself up, shaking slightly in the legs. But nodding all the same. Letting her eyes drift to the floor. Scott almost feels bad. Key word, almost. The ugly beast still snarls and shows its teeth, ready to bite down and shred her to bits.

He guides her through the rows of too loud music, and too many drunk people. He can hear cheers as mumbo does some kind of trick with the mixer. It isnt much of a surprise. Mumbo has been bartending for almost a decade at this point. He makes it a point in almost every conversation that he simply loves his job. But Scott can still hear him apologize, and say it's really nothing. That it's rather quite simple. No one believes him in the slightest. Not when Scott and pearl are half way to the door, and they can both see the metal cups flying through the air above the crowd. Too many people in the too fancy house.

Lizzy cam from a far too wealthy family Scott is starting to think. She says she had a comfortable childhood. But. That feels like a bit of a lie.

The door is soon approaching, and pearl leans on Scott as he guides her too it. Not interested in being here longer then he needs to be. Not with the plan starting to form in his mind as he practically shoves her out the door.

“Hey…do you want me to drive you home?” He chuckles, glaring at her from the corner of his eye. Already knowing the answer as she weakly nods. Brown hair that once was done up all nice now falling in his face. As she stares at the floor. Unsure of what's going to happen.

He makes his way to his car, making sure to not have parked too far away, back when he thought he was going to leave with a bad attitude and ready to just drive off. Opening the passenger door he does a joking bow, and pearl doesn't even try to give a smile at it. Sliding into the seat almost limply, and Scott can't help but smile. It almost feels far too easy. As he walks around, opening his door, and sliding into his own seat. Looking to the door to see the small pistol he keeps there as a just incase scenario. He does feel he'll need it as he starts up the car.

With the roar to life, he slowly turns on the music, turning it to an older station and watching as pearls noise wrinkles as the final count down starts to play. He turns on the heating to keep her warm in her too little clothing for the weather. “Sooooo, you're gonna have one he'll of a hangover at work tomorrow?” He asks with a chuckle, slowly buckling in. She does the same and shakes her head. “Don't got work for the next few days, holiday weekend and all. With new years being in a day. Heard martyn and bigB are still working tho.” She says, almost numbly as she looks out the window, something still so sad about her. And he doesn't know why, but her bringing up martyn makes the thing in his chest snarl.

He decides to let the car idle for a moment, not wanting to mess it up too bad. Even if he is about to kidnap pearl. And she's going to let him. He knows it. Deep in his chest. It feels far too easy, and yet to right. “That's good. That's good, well, not good for martyn or big B, but. I'm glad you have a few days off…” he kinda trails off, rubbing the soft steering wheel cover. The two falling into almost awkward silence. Pearl too busy I'm her own head of thoughts of lizzie, Scott too busy in his with thoughts of making sure pearl certainly gets a point.

“Hey, you wanna head over to mine? I have some ice cream and shit? Make you feel all better?”

“....what streaming services do you have?”

“....Netflix, Hulu, paramount, and Disney-”

“-Yeah, let's head over to yours.” She cuts him off before he can finish, looking up out of the car window, and Scott snickers. Putting his car into drive.

Come morning and sunlight streams through the curtains of his old family house. Bathing the place in light. Stretching his arms far above his head with a yawn, making sure to keep an eye on the sizzling bacon and the soon to be done pancakes. A sense of pride boiling in his chest.

one hand grips the handle of the skillet, the other holding the black plastic spatula. Gently edging the pancake onto the already made stack. A low hanging grin on scotts face as he turns off the burner. The room filled with soft music and savory smells as scott moves around. Picking up a plain pancake to eat as he puts two onto a different, metal plate. Still warm bacon following suit. He turns to the peanut butter, opening it up, and smearing it onto the two pancakes on the glass plate. Putting a little too much bacon on the plate. Chuckling softly to himself as he spins. Taking long strides back to the pantry to put up the peanut butter. Mind buzzing with things to say, things to do. He really didn't get to do too much last night, by the time he had gotten back, she has fallen asleep, and he got her tired to the chair? He was far more then beat, arms and legs just aching.

Quietly picking up the plates, he turns to the basement door. Flicking on the light switch, and nudging open the door, he starts his decent.

From morning light and savory smells of breakfast, to dim light bulbs, and the smell of went stone. Depending the stairs, he makes sure to close the door behind him, watching as it suddenly becomes much much darker, and his eyes have to adjust to the lighting of the stairs. The stone brick walls with moss and such creeping up them, welcome him like an old friend. Too bad he doesn't get along with friends from the past anymore.

He represses a shiver as he steps down each step, counting as he goes, making sure to keep his voice a light hum. And isn't that splendid!! He can hear pearls muffled screams and thrashing already!! She's awake!!

He sighs happily as he makes it to the 32nd stair. The very bottom, turning he sees just what he left. A metal dinning table. Pearls hair seeming to have gotten even more knotted!! He'll make sure to brush it tomorrow, if he let's her free like he's planning. Tears and pure anger, yet fear fill her eyes, and scarf gagging her has spit soaking through, and Scott tries not to wrinkle his nose, but he can't help it really.

Her arms tied behind her back, and then to the chair, just to be safe. And each ankle tied to the front two legs of the chair. She leans as forward as she can go without tipping, and with her glare, as she screams nonsense, Scott almost feels like she's growling at her really!!

He sets both of the plates down on the cold stone floor, praying nothing crawls into his food as he's a bit busy. Slow, steady movement as he walks behind her, lifting her hair up as he slowly unties the soft red scarf. As soon as it drops she's starts to scream.

“LET ME GO YOU CRAZY ASSHOLE!! LET ME GO. I SWEAR I WONT TELL ANYONE, JUST LET ME GO!!”

He voice is almost horse, and Scott can't help but roll his eyes and sigh. Walking back around, jerking his hand away as she tries to bite at him. Letting out an almost offended gasp as she pauses, huffing for breath. Hair still falling forward. “Gods!! And you're not even here for anything personal!! You would think we had some long lasting enemies thing with how you're acting!!” He says, voice rising as he scrunched his brow. Not much of a fan og pearl right now, with all her screaming, and drooling, and crying in total.

He huffs. Honestly, he didn't think kidnapping would be this messy. The women letting out what almost sounding like a snarl. And Scott Scoffed in return. practically storming off from her. Something still boiling in his blood he doesn't care to give her the plate right now. Hands sliding into his pockets, gripping the pocket Knife with all the strength he has left.

“I'm not a violent person pearl.” He snarls, voice dripping with rage, or is it blood lost as she spits, going far enough to land on his new slippers.

“Like hell you arent.” her voice as much of a snarl as his. And well, Scott doesn't think before he's plunging the knife into her shoulder.

He thinks it's easy to listen as pearl screamed. head throwing back at an odd angle as she thrashes.

Martyn didnt even flinsh when the bell to the shop rang loud. Pearl hadnt replied since friday night. Hope in his eyes as he looks up, only to see Scott in the doorway, a nervous sigh leaving his lips. With slow movements he looks around the shop, noticing not a soul in the place. He let's him sag forward at the fact its just him and scott. elbows on the counter as martyn slowly slides onto, a worry noise leaving him as his hand slide into his hair, pushing his hair back. And martyn swears he doesn't mean to grip his hair tight enought that he's pulling it. He really didn't mean to.

He can hear scotts step become hurried as he reaches martyn, martyn doesnt even look at Scott as he pulls his hands out of his hair. Gently taking the hand into his own, running his fingers over his knuckles with such gentleness martyn feels he has to look up. Tears starting to form in his eyes as he takes in a shakes inhale.

Scott looks worried, almost frustrated. Eyebrows scrunched, and frowning. His jaw far too tense. But just the look of worry made martyn cave.

“Gods, I'm, scott, I'm, I'm just so worried about her scott..!!” He croaks out, squeezing his eyes shut as he feels tears start to fall. Squeezing scotts hands like his life depends on it.

He isn't able to see the way scotts nose wrinkles. He doesn't know that Scott knows who he's talking about. He doesn't know the way the beast that Scott has gotten used to in his chest, is beyond man, leaving deep gashes that Scott can almost feel.

“Oh martyn…what happened, what, what's going on?” Scotts voice is an attempted softness, but jealousy is lacing each world to the point he stutters. Martyn can't hear it, as his voice catches and he let's our a low whimper.

“Pearl…shes…oh gods…no one has seen or heard from her in 3 days, and..they, they reported her missing this morning” scotts own breath catches on that. As he slowly removes his hand from one of martyns, martyn isn't sure where her takes it, untill the soft hands, calloused from coffee burns, is wiping away tears as they fall. Martyn breath catches. Slowly opening his eyes once more, tears catching on his lashes, and keeping his vision throughly blurry as he leans heavily into scotts hand. A shaking sob leaving him once more.

“Oh I'm so sorry martyn….I'm sure she'll be found soon..” I'll make sure of it goes unsaid. scotts voice was layer in a sweetness, he knew, sounded fake. But martyn didn't care. His breath hitched once again as his sobbing picked up.

The question is if she'll be alive is on the tip of his tounge, waiting to slither out, and bite at anyone it can. But as a sob shakes him, he knows he won't say it.

His empty hand grabs scotts by the wrist, nails digging in and causing crescents into the skin of scoots wrist. And Scott knows they'll bruise due to his low iron. But he doesn't care, he let's martyn hold him like his life depends on it.

With a gentle attempt at a smile that doesn't quite reach his lips, he tilts martyn head up by the chin, leaning in just a bit.

Martyn stares into his eyes with one's of sorrow. And Scott can taste, can feel, the hickuping breaths. Scott figures its alright to steal just a little bit more breath from martyn.

The kiss is light, it doesnt take more then a minute. But it leaves scotts head spinning, and it leaves martyn bringing the hand he's still holding to his chest. And curling into the one on his face. Leaning awkwardly over the counter.

“She'll be ok martyn, i promise.” And martyns heart skips, and he thinks he believes scott.

(HEYYYYY YOUVE REACHED THE END, LOOK AT THAT!!!!! kina. You're the friend I've had for the longest on here, and I really do love you/p you look simply amazing in everything you wear, and that time you show me how you pulled up your hair was, to put it simply, awesome<3 you've super fun to talk with, and I wish life would align just a little bit more for us to talk even more then we do now. You truly are a great friend, and I love you, and you're writing to death<333 I could probably go back and find when you first commented on that pist of mine, but do I really need to? It feels like it's been years knowing you already, when I know it's been a year at max. You're awesom3, and every conversation with you leaves me a smiling mess, just at the fact you enjoy talking to me of all people!! And that honey moon you proposed? I would simply love to go biking with you, in, Norway was it? Besides the point, maybe you could take me to the arcade too<3)

(ALSO, 5K FUCKING WORDS, LONGEST THING IVE EVER WROTE, JUST FOR YOU BABES<333)

(I'm not actually wake, this is a scheduled post, so I won't respond instantly<333)