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writingforstraykids · 8 months ago

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Always back to you - Chp.2

Pairing: Minho x m!Reader (mention of Chanlix)

Word Count: 7523

Summary: Minho and you grow closer over time as he watches you handling his beloved son with such ease. Minjun's innocent question, asking you to stay with them, changes the dynamics a little. One day, you're taking the trust Minho offers you regarding his son a little too freely, and it ends in a mess...

Warnings/Tags: fluff, single dad!min, angst, domestic shit, double "date" with chanlix, panic attack (brief description), argument (y/n and minho/ minho and chan), min collapses during practice

PART ONE | PART THREE

do not repost, translate, or plagiarize my works in any way here or on other platforms. ©️writingforstraykids 2024 -

Two weeks later

You just left the local aquarium, and all of you felt like getting something to eat now. Minho had mentioned their planned visit to the aquarium a few days ago, and Chan and Felix had decided to tag along, inviting you as well.

It had been great fun seeing Minjun so fascinated with everything and answering all his questions. Chan and Felix fell back occasionally, taking some private moments as a couple for themselves as well, which left you a lot of time to talk to Minho.

Now, you’re back outside, standing in front of the aquarium. “You’re hungry, mate?” Chan asks, kneeling in front of Minjun.

“Yes,” he nods, wrapping his arms around Minho’s leg and cuddling into him.

“Then let’s go get some food, yeah?” Chan suggests with a warm smile, and Minjun nods.

Minjun glances around before gently tugging at Minho’s trousers. “Daddy?” he asks, and Minho hums in response. “Up?” he asks, seeming a little intimidated by all the people after the peace and quiet at the aquarium.

“Come here, dumpling,” he chuckles, picking him up. He tickles his side, pulling a sweet giggle from him, and kisses his cheek. “Let’s go eat, yeah?”

“Yes,” he nods, much more content up here now.

Felix looks up from his phone and taps Chan’s shoulder. “Babe? I found something,” he tells him, and Chan’s hand finds his as he leans over to glance at his phone.

“There’s a small restaurant not far from here that offers a lot for kids,” Chan tells them after humming agreeingly. “They even have a small playground in the back in case he gets bored and some coloring sheets.”

“Oh, guys, seriously, we can go wherever you want. He can still have some of mine if they don’t have kids' portions,” he assures them, and you notice his slight discomfort.

“I don’t mind, it looks good,” you agree with Chan.

“Minho hyung, relax; there’s plenty of stuff for all of us there. We don’t mind, honestly,” Felix assures him with his usual bright smile.

“Okay then,” Minho nods with a shy smile.

The theme restaurant is vibrant, decked out in bright colors, and adorned with characters from children’s shows. It was every kid’s dream, but as you sit down and look over the menu, Minho feels a familiar sense of dread begin to settle in. You excuse yourself for the bathroom and leave them for a moment.

“What would you like to eat, Minjun?” Minho asks, pointing to pictures of various kid-friendly options. “They have dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets, or maybe you’d like some noodles?”

Minjun scrunches up his face and shakes his head fiercely. “No! I don’t want those!” he protests loudly, causing a few nearby customers to glance over.

Minho’s heart sinks; they are in his son’s favorite type of restaurant, yet the usual struggle is unfolding. “Come on, buddy, you love dinosaurs. These nuggets look fun,” he tries to keep his voice cheerful, but the frustration is hard to mask.

“I don’t want it! I want to go home!” Minjun’s voice starts to rise, edging towards a tantrum.

Minho shoots his friends an apologizing look and shakes his head gently. “Baby, we'll eat here as we said.”

“They have your favorite noodles, Jiho; look,” Felix tries to help, showing him on the menu.

“No!” Minjun swats his hand aside. Felix blinks in surprise but draws his hand back with an apologetic grin toward Minho.

“Minjun, hey,” Minho says more firmly than he intended. “I know you're upset, but we don't hit people. Say sorry to Lix, baby,” he lessens the firmness in his voice again.

“Sorry, uncle Lix,” Minjun says timidly, tears starting to form in his eyes.

“It's okay,” Lix assures him gently.

Minho takes Minjun's little hands into his and gently smiles. “Thank you, buddy. You still don't want to eat?” he asks.

Minjun shakes his head, avoiding his eyes. By the time you arrive, Minjun is on the verge of tears, and Minho is feeling the stares of other people, each look like a weight added to his shoulders.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” you ask gently, taking your seat next to Minho.

“He doesn’t want to eat anything,” Minho explains, rubbing his temples. Chan gently pats his back, trying to calm him a little.

You turn to Minjun, your expression thoughtful. “You know, I was really hoping you could help me with something,” you begin, speaking directly to Minjun. “I’m super hungry, and I can’t decide what to eat. Maybe you could choose something for me? What do you think is good here?”

Minjun, now distracted from his brewing fit, looks curiously at you. “Fries…or dino nuggies...” he mumbles, still upset but intrigued by the involvement in the decision-making.

“Great choice. But I heard this place has a secret dish that’s really, really cool,” you whisper conspiratorially. “It’s a magic pizza that makes everyone super happy when they eat it. Do you think we should try it?”

Minjun nods, a slight smile breaking through his frown. “Okay, we can try,” he agrees shyly.

You wink at Minho, who looks at you in astonishment as you get up. You talk a word in private to your waiter before the rest orders their things. While they wait for the food, you engage Minjun in a conversation about the aquarium you had visited earlier, effectively diverting his attention from the earlier situation.

When the food arrives, the pizza is presented by the waiter, who plays along with the 'magic' theme, sprinkling imaginary dust over it. “Enjoy your magic pizza, brave knight!” he exclaims, leaving Minjun giggling.

“See, it’s magic because it makes you smile,” You say, taking a small slice and offering it to Minjun. “You want to try some magic?”

Minjun hesitates for just a moment, glancing at his father.

“Go on, baby,” Minho encourages him.

Minjun nods before taking a tiny bite. His eyes widen in surprise. “It’s good!” he declares, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

Minho watches the scene, a mixture of relief and gratitude washing over him. He smiles at you, mouthing a silent "thank you." The rest of the meal goes smoothly, with Minjun even trying some salad from Felix's plate and some noodles from Chan's.

As they leave the restaurant, Minho feels lighter than he has in days. “You really have a way with him,” he says to you as you walk toward the park.

“It’s all about making it fun, turning it into a game,” you giggle. “Sometimes, kids just need a little distraction from their worries, even if it's about food.”

Minho nods, watching Minjun run ahead to the playground with Chan and Felix. “I guess I need to be a bit more creative with meals,” he admits.

“Or just call me when it’s time to eat,” you joke, and you both laugh.

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of laughter and play, with Minjun in high spirits, having forgotten all about the lunchtime drama. As Chan and Lix say their goodbyes, Minho feels not just the exhaustion from a day well spent but a profound appreciation for his friends.

“Thanks again, Y/nnie. Today could have gone a lot differently without you,” Minho says as you part ways with them.

“Anytime, Minho,” you reply with a warm smile.

“Let me drive you home? You're on our way after all,” he says, and you take his offer.

Minho gets Minjun settled in the back before driving off. “Y/nnie?” Minjun's little voice comes from the back.

“Yes, buddy?” you ask, turning to face him.

“Stay?” he asks, and you frown at him gently.

“Stay where Minjunnie?” you ask.

“With us?” he asks timidly.

Minho glances at his son through the mirror. He can see the need in his eyes and swallows hard. He knows how much his son sometimes longs for someone else besides him. He asked about his mother before seeing other kids at the playground.

You glance at Minho nervously, not quite knowing how to respond without hurting either of them. “You mean for dinner?” you ask, trying to find a way out.

“No…always,” he says softly, his big round eyes watching you timidly.

Minho stops at a red light and stares out of the window, avoiding your look. His grip around the steering wheel tightens as his thoughts start spiraling, once more feeling like he isn't enough for his son. He knows he isn't.

“Oh, love,” you say quietly and reach back for him. “It's okay, you know, we see each other sooo often, and I'm always at the company.”

“But I miss you,” he says softly, and you honestly don't know what to say about that.

“You want to stay for dinner?” Minho speaks up quietly, and you look back at him. He sees the hesitation written all over your face and swallows softly. “It would be fine,” he assures you quietly.

You nod slowly, considering Minho's quiet offer. "I can stay for dinner, Minjunnie," you tell him, smiling as his face lights up. Minho gives you a grateful look, the tension easing from his shoulders as he turns back to the road.

The rest of the drive is spent in a comfortable silence, broken only by Minjun's occasional chatter from the back seat, talking about his day at the aquarium and the 'magic' pizza he had enjoyed. You listen, amused by his excitement and the way his eyes sparkle when he recounts his adventures.

Arriving at their home, Minho helps Minjun out of the car and into the house, with you following close behind. The familiar warmth of their home greets you and you slip off your shoes at the door, following Minho into the kitchen.

"I can help with dinner," you offer as Minho begins pulling ingredients from the refrigerator.

"Thanks," Minho says, his voice soft. "I think I'm just going to make something simple I know he likes. Is some pasta okay with you?"

"Perfect," you reply, setting the table while Minho starts cooking. Minjun hovers between the two of you, occasionally helping by passing ingredients or stirring the sauce under Minho's watchful eye.

As the pasta cooks, you and Minho chat about work and plans for the upcoming week. The conversation is light, but there’s an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken lingering between the lines.

Dinner is ready in no time, and you all sit down to eat. Minjun chatters happily, clearly enjoying having both of his favorite two people together. The meal is delicious, and you compliment Minho on his cooking, which makes him smile with pride.

After dinner, Minho insists on cleaning up, so you take Minjun into the living room to play a game. As you build a tower of blocks, Minjun's earlier request echoes in your mind. You glance towards the kitchen, where Minho is quietly washing dishes, and your heart twitches with a mixture of affection and concern.

"You're really good at building things," you comment, watching Minjun place another block on the tower.

"Daddy says I'm good too," Minjun states proudly, his concentration evident as he places each block.

"Of course he does," you encourage him, your thoughts still on his request to have you stay. It wasn't just about tonight—it was about all the nights and all the days. He wanted you there, a permanent fixture in their lives.

When Minho returns, drying his hands on a towel, he finds you and Minjun laughing as your tower wobbles before toppling over. He can’t help but smile at the sight, feeling a warmth spread through him he hasn't felt in a while, not like this. He watches you, studying your features as he has so many times before, and something in him screams not to think you're beautiful. But you are. Lately, he can't help but notice it again and again.

"Ready for bed, buddy?" Minho asks after checking the time.

Minjun pouts but nods, knowing that bedtime is non-negotiable. You help Minho get him ready for bed, a routine that feels both familiar and strangely intimate. Minho reads Minjun a bedtime story, and you watch, feeling a part of this little family.

After Minjun falls asleep, you and Minho settle on the couch with cups of tea. The house is quiet; the only sound is the occasional distant car passing by.

"Minjun seems to be getting attached to you," Minho begins, breaking the silence. "More than just as Y/nnie from work.” You nod, unsure of what to say, feeling the weight of Minjun's request weighing on you both. "I've been thinking about it," Minho continues. "About what he said in the car. It's not just that he misses you, Y/nnie. I think... I think he's looking for that missing piece. A family."

You meet his eyes, seeing the vulnerability there. "Minho, I-"

"I know it's a lot," he cuts you off, his voice gentle. "And I'm not asking for anything, not really. I just... I want you to know that you're already part of our family. If you ever want that, for real, it's yours. But no pressure. I mean it."

The offer hangs in the air, profound and sincere. You take a deep breath, feeling the significance of his words settles around you. You’ve grown to love Minjun and Minho, too, in a way that is more than just friendly concern.

"Thank you, Minho," you finally say, your voice thick with emotion. "That means more than you know. I love being with you guys. It feels like home."

Minho reaches out, his hand covering yours hesitantly. "That's all I needed to hear," he says with a relieved smile. “You can stay with him as much as you want to. There's no one else I trust him with as much as you.”

“Thank you,” you tell him, your hand still feeling warm as he draws his own back again.

You stay a little longer, talking and planning for the coming weeks until the yawns get the better of both of you.

As you leave, Minho walks you to the cab he called, and the night air is cool and comforting. "Stay safe, Y/nnie," he says, leaning close to hug you. You hug him back, a little surprised. "See you tomorrow."

"See you," you reply, the warmth of his hug lingering as you drive away, the image of Minjun’s sleepy smile and Minho’s thankful eyes etched in your mind.

Tonight, Minho’s words feel true in your heart—you are part of their family. And as the city lights blur past, you realize how much you’re looking forward to what the future might hold. Yes, you're delusional enough to hope there could be something deeper than what you have now.

At first, you were still hesitant about staying with them so often, knowing how important it was for them to have some time to themselves. Over the following weeks, dinner with them grew into a part of your daily routine. You and Minjun spend a lot of time together in the kitchen, trying out new dishes, which makes eating a fun experience for the little one. This allows Minho to wrap up things at the company in peace, able to focus on himself for a little without having to worry about his little troublemaker. Minjun looks forward to cooking with you in the evening which makes saying goodbye to his father so much easier.

With all the cooking, you two start making extras for everyone. You know they have a fridge at the company where they store their personal stuff, so you and Minjun start filling it regularly. It delights them all, always finding a fresh meal for whatever time of the day or night if your name is Chan. It feels like you're not only part of Minho's private, small family but also his bigger family at work.

It’s been almost a month since Minho’s offer to be part of this family, and you didn’t regret it one bit. You all found your routine by now, and you had a spare key to their house, allowing you to get home earlier with Minjun. It means a lot to you that Minho trusts you when you tell him you’re taking his son home. Minho and you have grown closer, knowing how much it meant to both of them that Minho was sharing his home with you.

It’s getting harder with every passing day to ignore how much he means to you. How beautiful he is when he’s wrapped up in a blanket, hair messily falling into his face, a wide smile on his face as he’s fooling around with Minjun. How treasured the sound of his genuine laugh after a long day had gotten. How caring he is for both Minjun and now, to some extent you. How strong he is for his kid, making sure to excel both at work and at being a father when all he wants is to hide away sometimes.

Tonight, you and Minjun decided to make dumplings and surprise Minho with them for dinner. The kitchen is soon filled with the aroma of spices, the rhythmic sounds of chopping, and laughter. Minjun, your little bundle of energy, is sitting on a chair next to you, his eyes bright with excitement. You patiently show him how to prepare the filling, and Minjun watches, eager to learn.

“Okay, Minjunnie, you want to try mixing?” you ask, handing him a large spoon.

“Yes,” he nods quickly, taking the spoon with both hands. His attempts are messy but earnest, and you can’t help but laugh as a bit of the filling spills over the side of the bowl.

“Good job, buddy! Now, let’s make the dumplings,” you encourage him, showing him how to place a small amount of filling in the center of a wrapper. You demonstrate pinching the edges together, a technique that has taken you a while to master. Minjun tries to mimic you, his small fingers fumbling at first, but with each attempt, his technique improves. “You’re a natural!” you compliment him and get the sweetest smile in return. Once more, you realize how similar he looks to Minho when he smiles, cheeks grow squishy, eyes squint in joy, and the bunny teeth show.

Later, as the dumplings steam, Minjun's attention shifts to the window. "When is Daddy coming home?" he asked, his voice tinged with concern.

"Soon, I think. He might be very tired, though. He had a long dance practice today," you reply, checking the dumplings.

As if on cue, the door opens with a soft creak, and Minho steps in, his face showing signs of exhaustion. Minjun runs to him immediately, almost tripping over his feet, wrapping his little arms around Minho's legs.

"Daddy! You're home!" Minjun exclaims, looking up with a smile that falters as he notices Minho's tired expression.

"Hey, little chef," Minho says, his voice weary as he bends down to scoop Minjun into his arms. "Did you make all these dumplings?"

Minjun nods proudly, and then his face turns serious. "Daddy, are you okay? You look sad."

Minho manages a tired smile. "Just a bit tired from practice, baby. But I'll be okay. Smelling those dumplings definitely makes me feel better."

You watch them, your heart swelling with affection but also concern for Minho. Lately, the dance practices have been intense, often leaving him drained. "Let's eat! I bet your daddy's hungry," you suggest, ushering them to the dining table where the dumplings were now ready, steaming hot and inviting.

The meal is cheerful, with Minjun chatting about his day and the dumplings he helped make. Minho eats with evident pleasure, praising Minjun's efforts, which makes the boy glow with pride. However, you notice Minho grimacing slightly every time he moves his shoulder.

After dinner, while Minjun is occupied with his coloring books, you approach Minho. "You're really pushing yourself hard, aren't you?" you ask softly, concern coloring your tone.

Minho sighs, rubbing his shoulder. "Yeah, the new routine is tough. But it’s what I love to do."

You nod, your hands reaching out instinctively to his shoulder, your fingers pressing gently. "Maybe I can help a little," you offer.

Reluctantly, Minho agrees, and as your skilled hands work over his sore muscles, he feels the tension beginning to ease. The room is quiet besides Minjun's occasional hums as he colors and Minho’s low hisses whenever your fingers meet a tense spot.

"Thank you, Y/nnie," Minho murmurs, genuinely grateful.

"It's nothing," you reply, your hands steady.

As you settle into the evening, Minho watching Minjun draw and you tidying up the kitchen, you feel complete, having spent a day well. The night ends with Minjun falling asleep early, curled up on the couch with his favorite blanket in Minho’s lap. “I’ll better get going,” you say with a glance at the clock. “I’ll be late on set tomorrow; I have an important call about a possible photoshoot for you before…but I’ll make sure someone’s there to keep Minjun occupied until then.”

“Alright,” Minho nods thankfully. “Get home safe, yeah?”

“Always,” you promise and gently squeeze his shoulder as you leave.

The next morning dawns bright and early for you. After a quick breakfast and the call, you make your way to the set where Minho is filming the music video for the song with Chan. Today's plan includes picking up Minjun from Minho’s set and treating him to some ice cream—a little surprise to break the monotony of his dad's long shooting days.

Upon arrival, you notice the usual hustle and bustle of the set, but with an added layer of excitement given the complex scenes scheduled for the day. As you navigate through the crowd of crew members and equipment, you spot Minjun sitting near one of the monitors, his eyes wide with fascination as he watches his father perform.

"Y/nnie!" he exclaims, his face lighting up as he sees you approaching. He runs over, nearly tripping over a cable before you scoop him up into a hug.

"Hey, my little star! Watching Daddy work, huh?" you say, smiling as you set him down.

"Yeah, Daddy’s really cool!" Minjun responds, his enthusiasm infectious. You chat briefly about what he's been watching before steering the conversation towards the day’s special plan.

"So, how about we grab some ice cream after this? Just you and me," you suggest, watching his reaction closely.

Minjun’s face splits into a broad grin. "Ice cream! Yes, please! Can we get chocolate?" he asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Chocolate it is. Let’s go," you reply, your heart warmed by his excitement.

The ice cream shop isn't far, and the walk there is filled with Minjun's chatter about the various things he’s learned from watching his father on set. You listen, amused and impressed by his observations and memory.

Arriving at the shop, Minjun presses his nose against the glass display, his eyes scanning the array of flavors. "Two chocolates, please!" he declares when it’s your turn to order.

With the cones in your hands, you find a spot outside on a bench. Minjun eagerly attacks his ice cream, and the chocolate soon smudges his lips and cheeks. You can't help but laugh, pulling out a few napkins to clean him up.

"Y/nnie, do you like being with me and Daddy?" Minjun asks suddenly, his tone serious, as he looks up at you with those big eyes.

"I love it, Minjun. Being with you and your dad is the best part of my day," you answer honestly, touched by his question.

Minjun nods, seemingly satisfied with your response, and returns his attention to the rapidly melting ice cream. "Good. You're fun," he adds, his words muffled by a mouthful of chocolate.

As you sit there, watching Minjun enjoy his treat, you reflect on the changes in your life since joining their little family. Each day has brought its challenges and joys, but moments like these highlight the beautiful simplicity of your new life.

About half an hour later, you decide to make your way back, not knowing what mess your little surprise caused.

Minho brushes a strand of hair from his face, eyes flickering to Minjun’s prior spot, only to notice he isn’t there anymore. He frowns and quickly scans the room, a shiver running down his spine when he can’t find his son anywhere. “Chan hyung,” he asks, terrified, grabbing his friend's arm.

Chan turns toward him, frowning, confused. “Hey, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, seeing the fear in his eyes.

“Where’s Minjun?” he asks, and Chan glances around the room, not finding him either.

“Baby, where’s Jiho?” he asks Felix, who’s already looking. “Min, who was watching him?”

Minho inhales shakily, his hands trembling by now, and his stomach tightens in pain. “I…He was right there the whole time,” he says, pointing at the now-empty chair next to the cameras. “Hyung, he was right there and-.”

“Breathe,” Felix tries gently, wrapping his arm around him. “He’ll be okay, yeah?”

“You don’t know that,” he shakes his head, anxiously watching Chan, who’s talking to their staff and trying to figure out who had seen him last. “Fuck, I shouldn’t have stopped watching him,” he whispers, and Felix squeezes him gently. Chan quietly ushers their team from the set so it’s only them, and pulls out his phone. Minho braces himself on his knees and squeezes his eyes closed as a wave of nausea crashes over him. “I’m gonna throw up,” he whispers, and Felix soothingly rubs his back, reminding him to breathe. He exchanges a worried glance with his boyfriend, anxiously biting the nail of his thumb.

The door opens, and you step inside, accompanied by a brightly smiling Minjun, who’s carrying a small bag of waffles for all of them. You look up, startled, and notice how empty the room is now, as well as Minho’s anxious form. Is he having a panic attack? Minho looks up, and the moment his eyes meet yours, something in his anxious expression changes. The fear makes room for a sudden coldness you’re not used to, which quickly gets replaced by anger. “Where the fuck were you?” he asks dangerously low.

“Minho, what’s wrong?” you respond, confusion evident in your tone as you hold Minjun’s hand a little tighter.

Minho pushes himself to his feet. “You took him. Without telling anyone? That’s what’s wrong!” His voice rises with each word, the strain of the moment overtaking his usual composure.

You glance down at Minjun, whose smile fades as he senses the tension. “I…we just went for some ice cream,” you explain, your voice steady despite the rising anxiety. “Minjun wanted to surprise you with-”

“A surprise? By letting me think my son had gone missing?” Minho snaps back, his words sharp and biting. “You don’t just take him, Y/n! Not without telling me.”

Minjun’s eyes begin to water, and his lower lip trembles as he looks up at his father and then at you. “Daddy, I wanted to.” His voice is a whisper, drowned out by the escalating argument.

“Not now, Minjun,” Minho says, a bit too harshly, his focus still fixed on you. "What were you thinking, Y/n?" he snaps, his voice laced with accusation. "You know you're supposed to let me know before taking Minjun out!"

You swallow hard at the sharpness of his tone, your eyes wide with surprise and hurt. "I'm sorry, Minho," you reply, your voice trembling slightly. Fuck. "I didn't think it would be a big deal. We were only gone for half an hour."

But Minho was beyond reason, his frustration bubbling over. "It is a big deal!" he insists, his expression one of betrayal. “I trusted you. How could you just take him without telling me? What if something had happened? How would you explain that, huh?”

Your heart clenches at his words, the hurt evident. “Minho, I would never put Minjun in danger. You know that.”

“No, I don’t,” Minho says harshly, making you take a step back, your grip on Minjun’s trembling hand loosening. What?

“Let’s all just take a breath, okay? This is getting out of hand,” Felix suggests, looking between you and Minho with concern. “Minjun is safe. He was with Y/nnie, and they weren’t far.”

"Minho, calm down," Chan steps in, seeing the clear shock written all over your face, his voice firm. "He was just trying to help out. You're overreacting."

But Minho now turns his anger towards Chan, his frustration boiling over. "Stay out of this, Chan," he snaps at him, his tone cutting. "This is between me and Y/n. This is about my kid."

“Calm the fuck down right now, Min,” Chan says, his voice rising as well.

“Channie, baby, please,” Felix chimes in, fearing that his involvement would only make it worse.

You let go of Minjun’s hand, looking at Minho timidly. “I thought you trusted me with him. You left him at home with me all the time, Minho. How is that any different?”

“The fucking difference is I knew!” he yells at you at the top of his lungs.

Minjun flinches, the bag dropping to the floor. His face crumples, big tears spill down his face, and a loud cry ripples through him. Felix quickly scoops him up, walks a little away from the whole mess, and soothingly talks to him. It’s the first time Minjun has allowed Felix to comfort him when he’s upset, curling up in his arms.

You nod gently and shakily pull the keys to his house from your pocket. “That doesn’t give you an excuse to be such a fucking asshole,” you say, more calmy than you feel right now. “You just ruined his day; congratulations. Here, I won’t need them anymore,” you say, throwing the keys to his feet. “I’ll send you an email with your schedule for next week and make sure to find a proper replacement.”

“Y/nnie,” Minho breathes out, the reality of your words slowly settling in.

“Don’t Y/nnie me, not after this,” you shake your head and grab your jacket. “I’m sorry, Chan, I really liked working for you guys. You’re amazing,” you tell him before leaving, tears burning in your eyes painfully.

As soon as the door closes, Chan snaps at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you, Minho?!” he yells. “Are you insane? You just lost the one person who’s always been there for you. The one person your son felt comfortable around. You wouldn’t still be here without him; I hope you know that!”

“Fuck off!” Minho snaps back at him, feeling cornered.

“No, you fuck off! Minjun has no one to look after him when you’re busy except Y/nnie. Without Y/nnie, you wouldn’t even be part of the group anymore because you can’t fucking handle it on your own!” he says, and seeing Minho’s face fall, he knows he went too far.

“Chris!” Felix raises his voice at him, looking at him shocked.

“Well, thank you for finally being honest with me,” Minho says dryly, nodding to himself.

“Min, he didn’t mean it like that,” Felix tries gently as Minho makes his way over to them.

“Give me my son, please,” he says quietly. Minjun nearly screams as he eases him out of Felix’s hold. He flinches back, eyes filling with tears at the broken sound.

Felix worriedly glances down at the little boy clinging to him tightly. “Minjunnie, you’re gonna go home, okay?” he asks, growing anxious, at him shaking his head firmly. “Your daddy’s gonna take you home now,” he says, gently lifting him off his chest.

Minjun shakes his head, sobbing heavily, and holds onto his shirt tightly. “No, Daddy’s stupid!”

Minho carefully eases Felix’s shirt from his son’s hands and takes him into his arms. Minjun starts kicking, hitting his chest. Minho presses his lips together tightly, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly, holding onto him tightly so he won’t slip from his grip. Minjun wails in his arms, still fighting him as he carries him outside to the car. “I’m so sorry, buddy. Daddy’s an idiot,” he tells him shakily, the seatbelt slipping from his fingers repeatedly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, finally managing to buckle him up. He closes the door to the car and tries to hold back the sob threatening to leave him.

“You forgot your stuff,” Chan says softly, suddenly next to him.

Minho quickly wipes his cheeks with his sleeve and takes the bag from him. “Thanks,” he mutters, not meeting his eyes.

“Min…I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” he says carefully. “You’re doing your best, and we all know it. That wasn’t fair,” he tells him.

Minho throws the bag onto the passenger’s seat and shakes his head, sniffling. “It’s fine. You were right. I suck at this, and I’d do you all a favor if I quit until he’s older.”

“Don’t say that,” Chan says gently, shaking his head. “We couldn’t do this without you.”

“I highly doubt that,” he says, voice breaking.

“Minnie,” he says quietly.

“Fuck, Channie hyung, I messed it all up,” he finally breaks down, hot tears spilling down his cheeks.

Chan pulls him into a tight hug, swallowing at how hard Minho is trembling in his arms. “What happened in there, hm? You’re usually not like this,” he asks carefully, and Minho shakes his head with a sob. Chan chews on his lower lip, realizing this could possibly go deeper than he thought, considering Minho’s insecurities regarding raising his kid right. The question hung in the air, heavier than the silence that followed. “Look, I know you’re doing this whole parenting thing on your own, and you’re doing an amazing job,” Chan continues, soothingly rubbing his back. “But you can’t let your fear make you forget who your allies are. Y/n loves Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn’t just take him without any consideration of the risks.”

Minho’s eyes met Chan’s, a mixture of anger and sorrow battling within. “I know. I just... When I didn’t see him, all I could think about was all the things that could go wrong. He’s everything I have, Channie. He's my baby, and no one can just take him without telling me.”

Chan nods, smiling at him sadly. “I know, mate, I know,” he assures him. “Let me drive you two home, okay? You shouldn’t be driving right now,” he says, and Minho nods weakly. “Come on,” he urges him gently. Minho slips into the passenger’s seat, wiping his cheeks with his sleeves messily. Chan notices Felix a few steps away, anxiously chewing on his lower lip. “You’re coming with us, baby? We can take a cab from there,” he tells him, and his boyfriend nods quickly.

“You really think he’ll quit?” Felix asks timidly.

“Min? No, he-” he says, but Felix shakes his head.

“No, Y/nnie,” he says, chewing on his lower lip anxiously. “That would be the worst thing for Minjun.”

“I don’t know, baby,” he shakes his head. “That depends on Min and Y/nnie. We can’t do much; they have to be okay…but Minho feels like shit for it,” he sighs and kisses his cheek. “It’ll be okay, baby.”

“Mhm, maybe,” Felix nods before slipping into the back to Minjun, who’s still crying softly.

“L-Lix,” he whimpers and reaches for him again.

“Hey, buddy,” he says gently, taking his hand. “It’s okay, yeah? We’re taking you home now, okay?”

“O-Okay,” he hiccups.

Minho remains quiet during the ride home, silent tears running down his cheeks as he’s biting his lower lip hard. Minjun cries quietly in the back as Felix tries to soothe him a little.

They reach their house not much later, and Felix carries Minjun inside. He exchanges a long look with Chan before moving Minjun to the room with all his toys.

Minho's face is a canvas of frustration, marked by the occasional wipe to remove the tears running down his cheeks. Chan gently guides him to the sofa and sits down with him.

"Minho, man, we need to talk about what happened," Chan begins, his voice firm yet gentle, trying to cut through the tension.

Minho nods, not meeting Chan's eyes, his gaze fixed on the floor. "I know, I know I messed up. It's just... when I couldn't see Minjun, everything went black. I panicked, Channie hyung."

Chan places a hand on Minho's shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "I get that, really, I do. The fear of losing Minjun is real and valid, but the way you handled it with Y/n wasn't fair. You trust Y/nnie, don't you?"

"I do, but at that moment, all that trust just... vanished. I just felt so out of control," Minho confesses, his voice cracking with emotion.

"It’s important to remember that Y/n cares about Minjun almost as much as you do. He wouldn't have taken him without considering his safety. But I think this goes deeper, Minho. This isn't just about today, is it?" Chan observes, trying to dig deeper into Minho's fears.

Minho sighs, a long, weary sound that seems to carry the weight of the world. "It's everything, Chan. The pressure of work, trying to be there for Minjun, getting closer to Y/n, and not knowing where the line is—it's all piling up. And today, I just... broke."

Chan nods, understanding more than Minho realizes. "You're not alone in this. You've got us, you've got Y/n…you need to fix this."

Minho wipes his face. "Maybe you're right. I need to handle this better, for Minjun and for myself."

"And you need to apologize to Y/n properly. He deserves that much, Minho. He's been here for you through thick and thin."

Minho knows Chan is right. The thought of facing you was daunting but necessary. He owes you an apology, one that acknowledges his overreaction and the hurt it caused.

Later that day, after taking some time to compose himself and gather his thoughts, Minho found Minjun playing quietly in his room. His little boy looks up, his face still showing signs of the day's stress.

"Hey, buddy... can we talk?" Minho sits beside him on the floor, his tone gentle. Minjun nods, his eyes curious and a bit cautious.

"I want to apologize, Minjun. Daddy got very scared today when I couldn’t find you, and I didn’t handle it well. I shouted, and that wasn’t right. I’m sorry for scaring you," Minho starts, his heart heavy.

Minjun moves closer, leaning into his dad. "Okay, Daddy… Y/nnie bought ice cream."

"I know, and it was a wonderful idea. I’m sorry for ruining it. And I’m sorry for how I spoke to Y/nnie. He didn’t deserve that. I’m going to apologize to him, too," Minho says.

"Do you still like Y/nnie, Daddy?" Minjun’s small voice is filled with worry.

"I do, very much. Y/nnie is important to us, right? I made a big mistake today, and I hope he can forgive me," Minho explains, hoping his son could understand.

Minjun hugs him tightly, "I forgive you, Daddy."

Minho chuckles softly, hugging his son back. "Thank you, baby."

Two weeks later

Life had once more settled into a stressful rhythm for Minho following the upheaval of his outburst and its emotional aftermath. Days morphed into weeks with Minjun by his side; each one layered with the joys and challenges of single parenthood, combined with his demanding schedule. Despite his deep love for his son, the strain of juggling his roles was evident.

Minho is preparing Minjun's backpack for the day, his movements automatic. The routine is well-practiced but no less draining. Minjun is playing on the carpet, glancing at his father suspiciously as he's preparing breakfast.

“Daddy, you okay?” Minjun’s small voice cuts through the morning stillness, his eyes wide with concern.

Minho pauses, taken aback by the question. “Of course, buddy,” he replies, forcing a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes. “Why do you ask?”

“You're tired,” Minjun says simply.

Minho sighs, the weight of his exhaustion settling deeper on his shoulders. He is tired—more than tired. Each day felt like a battle, each night a too-short break from it all.

Later that day, after getting Minjun settled, the effects of chronic stress, sleep deprivation, and emotional turmoil begin to manifest more aggressively. As he moves through the complex choreography, his steps start to falter, his usually sharp movements grow sluggish, and his focus wanes.

“Minho, take five!” Chan calls out. “You’re off today, man. Everything alright?”

Minho nods mutely, too spent to formulate a response. He retreats to a quiet corner, his breath uneven, his heart racing uncomfortably in his chest. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to stave off the dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him.

Just as he felt like he'd be fine, a sharp pain clutched at his chest, his breathing growing labored, and the room seemed to tilt on its axis. Panic claws at his mind as he staggers, trying to call out for help, but his voice is a mere whisper.

“Minho!” He hears someone shout and feels hands steadying him just before everything goes dark.

When Minho regains consciousness, he finds himself on a couch in the studio’s lounge, surrounded by concerned faces—Chan, Jeongin, and Felix, holding a distressed Minjun. An ambulance siren wails in the distance, growing louder as it approaches.

“What… what happened?” Minho manages to ask, his voice weak.

“You collapsed, man. Scared the hell out of us,” Chan replies, his expression tight with worry.

The paramedics arrive swiftly, assessing Minho quickly. Blood pressure high, heart rate erratic, they murmur words like "exhaustion" and "stress" as they prepare him for transport to the hospital.

The hospital tests confirm what Minho had tried to ignore: he was suffering from severe exhaustion combined with stress. The doctor’s advice was obvious. "You need to rest, Mr. Lee. Your body is telling you it can’t keep up this pace. If you ignore this warning, the next incident could be more severe."

Minho lies back on the hospital bed, the sterile white of the room a stark contrast to the vibrancy of his daily life. The words hit hard, a sobering reminder of his mortality and the stark reality of his responsibilities as a father.

Chan, who had accompanied him, squeezes his shoulder. “You gotta take care of yourself, Minho. For Minjun’s sake, if not your own.”

“I know,” Minho murmurs, the gravity of his situation settling in. “I just… thought I could handle it all.”

Chan’s look is sympathetic but firm. “No one can handle everything alone, Min. You need to let others help. Maybe it’s time to reach out to Y/nnie again. For support.”

The suggestion lingers in the air between them, heavy with implications. Minho’s thoughts drift to you, your warmth, your laughter, and the comfort you brought to both him and Minjun. The thought of reaching out, of potentially being rejected, is terrifying, yet the fear of what might happen if he continued on his current path is greater.

Anxiously, Minho makes the decision to call you from the hospital, his heart pounding as he dials the familiar number. The phone rings, each tone echoing like a drumbeat in his tense silence.

“Hello?” you ask, cautious yet warm.

“Y/nnie, it’s Minho. I… I need to talk to you. It’s important.” His voice is unsteady, and his admission of need is a significant release of his tightly held pride. “I…I need help.”

There’s a pause, a breath held, and then released. “I'm listening.”

Minho's voice wavers as he speaks, the hospital's fluorescent lights casting stark shadows across his face. "I... I had an incident today at rehearsals. I collapsed," he confesses, the words tasting like defeat but necessary in their truth.

You suck in a sharp breath at his words. "Minho, are you okay? Where are you now?" you ask, your voice thick with worry.

"I'm at the hospital. They're telling me it’s stress and exhaustion. Nothing life-threatening, but...can you look after Minjun for a few days?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as you're silent for a while.

“So you're suddenly trusting me again?” you ask dryly.

Minho takes a moment to answer. “Minjun does…that tells me everything I should need to know,” he says quietly. “I've been an asshole, okay? I know I was. Once I'm better…can we talk? Really talk?” he asks timidly.

You sigh softly, rubbing your face. “Where is he?”

“He's with Lix,” he tells you, heart racing in his chest as you didn't answer his question.

"Get some rest, Minho. We'll sort everything else out later," you reply, your voice a soothing balm to Minho’s frayed nerves. Shit, he missed you.

“Thank you,” he says, tears burning in his eyes.

“Just…take care, okay? Your little boy needs you,” you say quietly.

“I will.”

PART ONE | PART THREE

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist (Please let me know if you want to be added to or removed from the taglist):

@atinyniki @galaxycatdrawz @zehina @silverstarburst @aaa-sia @lilmisssona @kthstrawberryshortcake @channieaddict @soullostinspaceandtime @rebecca-johnson-28 @lixie-phoria @kibs-and-bits @xxstrayland @ihrtlix @pheonixfire777 @mellhwang @palindrome969 @michelle4eve @harshaaaaa @rylea08 @heeyboooo @manuosorioh @gisaerlleri @andassortedkpop @lailac13 @bbokari711 @kazuuuaaa @rssamj @wolfyychan @stellasays45 @chrizzztopherbang @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @silentreadersthings @myforevermelody143 @queer-possum @james-is-here @roriiror @minholover1

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ver-nix · 3 months ago

Text

Kinktober 2024

October 1 - Brian Thomas (Hoodie) : Handjob/blowjob

wc: 2,341

A yawn left your mouth, your eyes bleary as you stumbled from your room in the mansion to the living room. What you weren’t expecting upon entering was a familiar hooded face sitting on the large couch, the soft voices from the television screen of some random show accompanying them. It was Hoodie—well, Brian.

You’ve always had a strange curiosity about him. He rarely spoke, and if he did, it was usually a very thought-out response. Another thing about him that you noticed was that he rarely, if ever, took off his mask. It was like it was practically glued to his face. Even during dinner, the mask stayed on. Instead, he would sit there, most likely to be polite as the rest of the pastas ate. You assumed he would take his food up to his room after to eat, as another plate was always added to the dishes later that night.

“Hey,” your voice seemed to boom out, too loud for the situation you seemed to be in. “What are you doing up? Figured everyone would be in bed by now.” Brian turned towards you at the sound of your voice. His face was covered like always with the black mask, a pair of red eyes, and a frown meeting your eyes. He said nothing as he turned back to the television screen. A hum left your mouth as you approached the couch, flopping down a couple seats away from Brian. “Watcha watchin’?”

Again, the masked man said nothing; his body still turned to face the TV. A small scoff left your mouth this time. This time, Brian looked over to you; his face displayed no emotion other than the red frown on the black mask he wore.

“Y’know it wouldn’t kill you to respond to me,” your brows furrowed. Brian said nothing; the silence between you was only broken by the soft voices coming from the television.

“Couldn’t sleep,” his gruff voice responded. A hum left your lips at his words.

“So you decided to come down here and watch some random old-timey show? What are you, fifty?” A hint of amusement laced your voice. You swore a huff of a laugh left Brian’s mask. A shrug of his shoulders accompanied the sound.

“How come? How come you couldn’t sleep, I mean?” You wondered what could be keeping a man like Brian awake at night. You’ve never seen him down here the countless other times you’ve retreated from your room to here. There was never anyone, until now. A huff came from the man across you. Brian was still turned towards the TV; your body subconsciously turned closer towards him. No answer came in reply to your question. A click of your tongue was caught by Brian’s trained ears.

“I had a dream,” was all that the man said after a couple of minutes passed. The sound of the television broke the awkward tension rising between the two of you.

“A dream?” You questioned, your brows furrowed in confusion, “Like a nightmare?” You probed the man for more information.

“No,” Brian shuffled on the couch, the memories of his dream hitting him like a freight train again. Quickly, he grabbed the blanket lying over the couch and spread it across his lap. He also grabbed one of the decorative pillows Slender kept on the couch and placed it over top the blanket.

“Everything all right?” One of your eyebrows raised. He was being even more abnormal than normal. “What’s up with you? You’re being weird, and I mean a lot weirder than usual,” you scooted closer to him. His hands clenched down on the pillow, the sight not going unnoticed by you. “You seem…tense,” you scooted even closer to him until only a few feet separated you two from each other.

Brian shifted in his seat, his face still covered by the black mask he always wears. He was hiding something.

"Y'know, you can just tell me? It’s not like I’m gonna tell anyone.” You felt like you were working Brian open with a crowbar to find out the answers to your questions. You moved closer to him, the mere feet separating the two of you turning to mere inches.

It became evident to you what was causing Brian’s discomfort as you moved closer. The decorative pillow was doing nothing to cover the growing chub below the thin blanket lying across Brian’s lap. Brian still shifted away from meeting your gaze, likely unaware you saw the embarrassing, ever-growing boner he was trying to cover.

“Was it a good dream?” You couldn’t help the suggestive smile that appeared across your lips. At this, Brian finally turned to face you, the black mask covering his face, hiding any and all emotion he might be feeling from you. “It was, wasn’t it?” Your tone was dripping with amusement. You watched as Brian’s throat bobbed.

“Yeah,” the reply came out breathy. Brian’s mind wondering back to the very provocative dream he had of you.

“Was it about me?” A sly smile crossed your face. Your words immediately snapped Brian away from the swirling thoughts of what happened in his dream. His throat bobbed once again, but no reply came after. You inched even closer to him, your hand mere centimeters away from his thigh. “It was. You know how I know?” A smirk played across your lips. “Because I can see you tensing up, and you’re hard.” Brian’s body went rigid as he processed the words you said.

“What was it about? Your dream?” Your tongue darted out to wet your lips, your eyes not leaving the imprint of Brian’s evidently growing arousal. A muffled groan came from Brian’s masked face; you swore his hips bucked up a bit, too.

“Had you naked f’ me. ‘N you were sucking my cock,” his words, gravelly, rung out to you. A sly smile slipped its way onto your face as you came up with an amazing idea.

“How about we recreate it, hm?” You couldn’t help the teasing tone that left your mouth as the words formed. “I can help you out.” Your voice trailed off as you teasingly lifted the hand mere centimeters from his thigh and ever-so-slowly ghosted it over Brian’s waist. You pulled the pillow from his grasp, throwing it away from the couch lightly.

“Don’t...” immediately you stopped, pulling your hand away from Brian. The quick inhale of air Brian took didn’t miss your ears.

“What’s wrong?” You questioned, your eyes meeting the red ones of the mask he wore. His breath was a lot more labored than before. A part of you felt assured at that observation.

“As much as I would fuckin’ love to have you suck my dick, we shouldn’t. Not here. Not while the others are asleep,” a frown crossed your face at his words.

“But they won’t wake up, not if we’re quiet.” Brian didn’t miss the mischievous and challenging look you gave him as you finished speaking. “Promise.” A hum left Brian’s masked face, along with a short exhale of hot air.

“Fine. But promise you’ll be quiet.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, a determined look forming on your face as your hand found its way back to Brian’s outer thigh. “I think you should be the one promising to be quiet.” With your words, your hands pulled the blanket down and off of Brian’s lap.

Immediately your knees hit the floor as you shifted off the couch. You scooted over between Brian’s legs as he parted them for you. Your hands rested at his knees as you made yourself comfortable between his legs. Ever so tauntingly slow, your hand ran up from Brian’s knee to his achingly hard manhood.

A low groan left his mouth at your action, his head being thrown back at the feeling. He was extremely firm; his member had already almost completely hardened to full length. A smile formed on your face as you teasingly continued to rub across his bulge.

“Oh fuck,” the words came from Brian’s mouth almost breathlessly. You couldn’t see it, but you’d bet that his face was flushed pink with arousal and that his eyes were closed shut.

Your maneuvers slowed down, your hands reaching up to the waistband of Brian’s joggers. You tug down on the fabric, pulling it tantalizingly slow down his hips. Brian worked with you, helping you undress him by jerking his hips forward, allowing you to move them down the rest of the length of his upper legs.

Pure skin met your eyesight; no pair of undergarments in sight. A devious smirk crossed your face, your eyes slowly trailing up his pale legs, right to his groin. Your eyes widened in surprise; you knew he would be big, but it seems like that was an understatement. He wasn’t as long as you thought he was, probably a good five or six inches, but what Brian was lacking in length he made up for with girth. Brian was on the girthier side, his cock about the size of a golf ball around.

“Gonna keep starin’ ‘r you gonna suck me off?” His voice boomed down at you. A roll of your eyes met his question in reply, along with a soft caress of your hand against his groin. Brian’s cock pulsed in anticipation, a bead of precum glistening at his tip.

Deciding not to wait any longer, your hand wrapped around Brian’s pulsing member and gently stroked him. A throw of Brian’s head against the couch informed you that he was enjoying your actions. Slowly, you picked up the pace, your mouth hovering over his dick as a fat glob of spit dropped from your mouth down to his small slit.

A low groan and a pulse of his cock extricated excitement at the glimmering drop of spit that was mixing with the precum on his tip. His face angled down, likely watching as the liquid drifted down towards the rest of him, just like you were doing. Your hand migrated up to the wet trail and gathered the remaining moisture into your hand, using it to aid in stroking Brian. More groans left Brian’s mouth as you kneaded his cock faster with the added lubricant.

“God, fuck ‘s so good,” Brian’s gruff, muffled voice breathlessly moaned out of his mask. “‘M gonna cum,” at his words, you felt his cock tense up and his hips buck forward slightly. Quickly, you let go, his orgasm slowly ebbing away from the edge of his release. A throaty whine came from his mouth.

“Shh, we need to be quiet, remember? The others are sleeping; you wouldn’t want to wake them now, would you?” A guileful smile appeared on your face. With your words, Brian was practically panting now; sweat was beginning to trail down the exposed part of his neck before slipping under the hem of his shirt.

With the constricting feeling of his mask practically suffocating him with sweat and stuffy air, one of Brian’s hands moved up towards his face and shifted the black fabric up just above the bridge of his nose.

Your eyes danced in awe at the excitingly new sight of some of Brian’s face. Although not much, you noted the gruff look of his chin and the growing stubble to memory. His lips, although thin and stretched, seemed to frame his jaw perfectly. You’re sure that they would be a perfect complement to the rest of his face.

“Fuck,” he panted out, “didn’t need to fuckin’ edge me.” His gruff voice boomed at you, annoyance lacing his tone.

“Didn’t want you to cum in my hand. I wanna taste it.” You hummed back at him, your hand moving to the glistening tip of his cock and gently rubbing it. In reaction to the pressure, you felt his cock pulse once again.

You removed your hand, instead scooting closer in between Brian’s legs and hovering your head over his cock. Slowly, your wet cavern sank down onto his length. A guttural groan escaped from his mouth, this time completely coherent since his mask wasn’t covering his mouth.

Slowly, your head bobbed up and down his length, your tongue lolling at the prominent vein on the underside of his cock. Groans escaped Brian’s mouth, his face pointed down to you, watching the way his groin disappeared between your lips only to return soaked in your spit.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s it; keep suckin’,” Brian’s gruff voice filled the room. The television was still playing some random show in the background. The muffled voice of the television and the slurping coming from your mouth mixed together. A row of curses came from Brian’s mouth. "Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” his hips shifted, forcing his cock down your throat, your nose digging into the fluff of hair at his base.

A gag left your mouth, Brian whimpering at the pleasure racing up his spine from the vibrations. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and then Brian’s hands grasped your head. He guided you down on his cock, picking up the pace exponentially as he neared his release.

Your mouth was left open while Brian gagged you with his cock. Your hands fisted his thighs, short beet red marks left in your wake.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” Brian’s voice trailed off as you felt liquid pool in your mouth. Your eyes squinted close, your tongue savoring the bitter taste of Brian’s cum on your mouth. A loud groan left Brian’s mouth as he came into your mouth. Brian’s hands dropped from your head, his fists instead balling up in the couch.

Slowly, you pulled your mouth away from him, being careful as to not spill the milky substance from your lips. You swallowed the liquid, small dribbles escaping the sides of your mouth. A smile formed on your mouth afterwards.

“That was good. Let’s recreate more of the was dreams you have of me sometime,” you winked at him, darting your tongue out to clean up the drops that escaped your lips.

#creepypasta #creepypasta fandom #creepypasta smut #brian thomas smut #Hoodie smut #Kinktober 2024

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yaut-jaknowit · 1 year ago

Text

Challenge Day

Pairing: We'ar-ow (Female Yautja) x GN!Reader

Word Count: 4039

Summary: After a night of rest, We'ar-ow drags you around her quarters. From a bath to rid yourself of that male's smell to getting food in your stomach, she ensures you taken care of. Rough in treatment, you are confused on what to feel. It doesn't matter. We'ar-ow takes you to the last place you want to be.

Author Note: Little warning, tiny bit of graphic content. Just bone breaking. I'm so glad everyone is loving on her. I'm planning of writing more for her and have a small plan drawn up already.

Ao3

Masterlist

A yawn broke your neutral expression. It was hard. To keep a façade up and hold back your anger for the situation. This was humiliating! This… why did everything have to change? Why so sudden? If you release your anger, said one wrong thing to We’ar-ow, you would think yourself dead. Said Yautja had rudely awaken you. It felt like you gained no sleep after waking up.

Coarse fingers wrapped around your wrist and pulled you from the room. At this point, you realized… We’ar-ow was speaking. Her deep, throaty voice was hard to understand in the first place. When your brain has barely had time to comprehend all that has happened just this morning, there was no room to understand what the Monarch was saying.

With a free hand, you rubbed at the crust in your eyes. Huh, must have cried in your sleep or something. Now, you were finally able to fully see where she was dragging you. Across the strange living room and towards a door you just realize existed. The metal door slides to the side to reveal a massive room.

No time was given to you. She had you by the arm and forced you into the bathroom attached to the bedroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s bathroom, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. This is when you realized the tub was full and steaming water.

Worst than before, you were giving absolutely not time to reaction as the clothes you wore were shredded. Your mind didn’t have time to even produce a yelp as We’ar-ow shoved you into the in ground tub. Your arms batted the water in a frenzied panic at first. You surged through the surface to gasp for air.

Almost instantly, you whipped your head to glare daggers at her before the logical side of your mind stepped up. Shit. You became submissive, ready for her to punish you. But nothing, no words or hits came. You peeked your head up to find an amused expression painting her face. It took a lot not to scoff. Instead, you simmered down into the water to hide everything below your neck. You didn’t want her to see more than you could control.

This earned a chuff. We’ar-ow shook her head. “Oomans,” was muttered underneath her breath. She kept guard though, eyes not leaving your form. The gaze caused your skin to crawl. You stayed slightly crouched down, eyes focused on the water, while not moving.

A crackly scoffed broke the silence. “Wash.” Your brows crunched the skin between them. What? How? You turned your head this and that way. Just water. Nothing to wash yourself with. What did she expect to use?

“Did the buffoon teach you nothing? I will take great pleasure besting him today. Maybe I will take his head as well, hang it in your new room, pet.” We’ar-ow took the necessary steps forward till her toes hung over the edge of the in ground tub. Her knees bent to a crouch. The salmon pink Yautja used a hand to scoop water and poured it over your head.

Almost… intimate. An action your ex-mate could do in the privacy of the community showers when time allowed it. “The water will cleanse your skin, wash away that Paya-awful male’s scent from you. Wash,” she commanded once more. Now, you understood truly what she expected from you.

You mirrored her actions from before and let water run down my head. Then, your eyes flicked up to hers. Was that good enough? “More.” Nope. You sighed before gaining a great idea. You dunked yourself fully under the surface then waited a few seconds. Once you felt it was enough, you broke the surface again, albeit this time calmer, and glanced up. She nodded.

Good. As you about to move to slip out of the tub, you realized something. There wasn’t anything to cover up with. She had already embarrassed you enough by ripping off your clothing then throwing you in here! Anger simmered in your boiling blood. All of this far too overwhelming to deal with and no given time to comprehend the situation.

All of this was just humiliating to say in the least. You swallowed what leftover pride you could hold onto and peered up at her. “I need a-a towel,” you requested, eyes flickering around her form and looking everything besides her.

The Yautja was still crouched down, nowhere near your level, but close by. Without any pretense, a pink hand grasped at your bicep and hauled you out of the water. You yelped and struggled against her hold, legs and arms flailing wildly. We’ar-ow pinned your back swiftly to her chest, loose hand coming to firm encase your neck.

Untamed attempts to break free from her were thwarted the moment her hand held your life. One squeeze could end it all. She felt the way your throated bobbed with a heavy swallow. She was back to her full height now. The Yautja slightly bent forward to further press herself into your backside. “Good pet.” She took full pleasure in your reaction. Fuck.

From the tops of your vision, you see her pink, split tongue skirt over her lower jaw. “Better,” is all she says before she removes herself from your backside. That’s when you realized you’ve been holding your breath the entire time. It rushed out of you in one big breath.

A hand fixated itself on your bicep before tugging you along. All you could do was listen… like a good pet. She brought you over to a spot in the bathroom before releasing her hold then pushing a button on the wall. Warm gushes of air dried the water from your skin, pleasantly warm. All drops of water officially removed from your previously damp skin.

Surprises morphs over your face. Your ex-mate didn’t have this but being the Monarch of the ship gave you special privileges, you guessed. The shock was allowed to simmer. We’ar-ow held onto your bicep once more and practically dragged you over to her bedroom of sorts. Clothes were pulled onto your body without another word. She shoved you out.

Out the room you had been in, into a massive living room, and towards a kitchen. Scents of food, good food wafted up into your nose. Not only were you starving, you were dying for water. Your throat ached, scratchy and dry. It left you with a headache that pushed at the back of your eyes.

The Monarch was none-the-gentler as she pushed into the bar stool too big for you. You catch yourself on the counter’s edge with not a second to waste. “Consume,” the voice you’re coming to learn barked. Then, she was off, marching towards a room towards the opposite of the front door. The same room we just came from.

On the verge of glaring at her, you grunted lowly and plopped your behind down on the stool. That’s when you realized why she had said ‘consume’ earlier, and where that delicious smell was coming from.

Before you sat a plate of steaming food, food that you didn’t begin to understand what it was made from. Instantly, your stomach growled painfully. A heady reminder. You glanced over to the door We’ar-ow left through. It was closed. You couldn’t hear anything from this far away. But she was gone, out of sight.

You were finally able to take your first full breath without any anxiety to squeeze the air out of your lungs. Yet, in the back of your mind, you knew your guard couldn’t be put down. Not now, not ever. Then, you focused on the food. Nothing smelled off about it, nothing gave you any bad vibes about it. And, We’ar-ow hasn’t given you a reason not to trust her. But, this is the Monarch we are talking about. Someone you don’t know. You scowled but your stomach snarled with a hungry roar. Pain cramped through your abdomen. You’ve never been this hungry before. Your ex-mate never let you go without a meal once a day.

By God’s grace, you were starting to become dizzy from dehydration. You smacked your lips together. A clear glass of see-through liquid was just sitting there. Once more nothing seemingly wrong with it. How could you know though? You weren’t like these guys. You had no great senses that allowed you to smell things miles away or hearing that alerted you in the same fashion. A sigh sounded from your lips.

Fuck it. You grabbed the glass and gulped down the entire thing within seconds. A bunch of air sucked in as well which caused you to burp… quiet loudly as well whoops. Your head whipped over to the door mentioned before. No movement or sounds. Good.

Back to the plate. With a finger, you nudged the things that looked like meat. It was warm. Cooked. Your eyebrows jumped with surprise. What. Something in your chest warmed with a familiar heat. You were swift at stomping it out before it had a chance to grow. Fine. That was… nice of her to do that. You picked up the slab of cooked meat and tore a chunk from it. It was still quite warm in your hands, almost unbearable. You held up the smaller chunk to your nose and sniffed it.

To be honest, it smelled glorious. So well, flavored and thoroughly cooked. You couldn’t helped the tiniest of smiles to grace your clean face. Finally, you placed it into your mouth and chewed. From the lack of food for a day, you hummed with delight. Delicious.

Before long, you had the entire plate cleared of food. You couldn’t know when your next meal would be. You didn’t know how the Monarch will… take care of you. Everything had been flipped on its head and you didn’t know what’s going to happen. You slumped in your chair, doing everything in your body not to just sob again. Defeated.

Warm fingers pinched your chin harshly and pulled your body up, almost lifting you off of the chair. Your hands went to wrap around a pink wrist, eyes darting up to find We’ar-ow. A gasp tore at your throat. Fear flooded your body, eyes clenched shut, ready for her to just snap your neck… but that never happens.

“Head up, spine straight. Don’t coward like prey. You are my pet. My pet won’t be prey,” she ordered and kept your head up, level, like the way she told you before. You cracked open an eye. We’ar-ow is still looking at you with her orange piercing gaze. She leaned in closer than she’s ever before, spilt tongue tasting the air. The Monarch dipped her head in approval. “Better, but I will get rid of that male’s smell later. I have an important meeting to attend. Do you know what it is?”

Curses flew around your mind. Why did she have to talk with you or ask you questions that made you have to answer? You lowered your gaze then shook your head softly. She pinched your chin harder. “When I address you, answer, my pet.”

A pregnant pause filled the air before you took in a deep breath. “No,” your voice quiet in the kitchen, eyes anywhere besides her body. We’ar-ow lumbered closer, a mandible lifting.

“That male who dishonored you, my new pet. He’ll face me in a challenge. He will lose. He will. You are mine. And I will keep you.” You couldn’t help but shiver at her tone. It was like she was a hundred percent certain your ex-mate will not win against her. In all honesty, a large part of your mind said she was correct. Her confidence bled over to you, contagious like a cold.

You wanted nothing more to blurt out the same question as before: ‘why?’ But you believed she would answer the same way. Instead, you held your tongue.

“You’re coming with me. First though-“ We’ar-ow stepped back to put space between the two of you, hand slipping from your chin. “You need to look like my pet. Come.” We’ar-ow turned her body in the direction of the original room she left through. Yet, you froze, stuck in place, not daring to follow her.

She notices this but doesn’t stop. Only a hand came to wave you along. “Don’t make me tell you twice.” Despite the voice being low and grumbly, it wasn’t harsh, just a general commanding her battalion. A tone you listened to, fearing what would happen if you didn’t. Your head bowed as you hopped off of the chair. But the plate… It would be rude and disrespectful to leave it behind.

“Leave it.” Okay, that answers that. You jumped at her sudden voice then scrambled after her. All the while, you kept a heady space behind her.

The door opened up to her presence. It was on the verge of closing until you got closer. You stopped at the entrance to stare into the room.

Holy. Shit. You couldn’t believe how big it was in here. Gracious, highly decorated, skulls, furs, and bones. A hunter, through and through.

Some of the skulls, five to be exact, were… human. You shuttered. Your ex-mate was kind enough to hide away the ones he collected when you reacted, well, horribly. It was a reasonable way to act when you see your own kind’s skull mounted on someone you loved’s wall. You shuttered, body tensing, ready to bolt in pure panic.

We’ar-ow turned around to face you, a bored look on her face. “You done?” It was like she was expecting you to react this way. Something inside of you curled into a ball at the knowledge. “Follow.” We’ar-ow motions you to follow deeper into this… this hell hole, this nightmare filled room. A place that bones of your species decorated the walls. You rapidly shook your head side to side, feet taking a step back to bolt.

The Monarch wasn’t letting you go. A hand wrapped around your throat and lifted you enough to be on your toes. Your bare feet scrapped for hope to stand on something. But she keeps you like this and brings you close. “My pet does not run! My pet stands to face the fear and danger. I will have to train you, unlike that measly male. He did nothing, didn’t he?”

Through the blood rushing violently in your ears, you desperately nodded your head. Any way to convince her to drop you. All you could think about is her snapping your neck. She’s the Monarch. She didn’t have to give a reason on why. Plus, you were her pet.

“Words.”

“Yes! Yes, he-he did nothing.” An alien smirk graced her face again. Her hold on you released. You landed unsteadily on your feet and snapped your head up at the Monarch. She stared down at you, looking over her upper mandibles.

Before a chance to think was given, We’ar-ow turned around and gracefully crossed the room over to the open concept bathroom. Almost similar to your ex-mate’s room, the only true difference was color and size. The tub could easily hold four female Yautjas without discomfort. Her hand swiped at something from the sink and she marched back towards you.

The Yautja towered, truly you meant that, over you but she doesn’t kneel down to get a better view. Instead, We’ar-ow sat down on her haunches. It helped a ton. Yet, she was still a good head taller than you. Without missing a beat, whatever in her hands was transferred to your head. Warm metal skirted around your head, beads falling down to tap against your cheeks. It tickled at first but you stayed still as the female fussed.

After a solid minute, she dipped her head and stood abruptly. “It will have to do,” she stated and continued to peer down at you over her mandibles. For a moment, your mind supplied she was wanting something from you. Words.

“T-thank you,” you offered your appreciation. Honestly, you did value the fact on your second day here, the Monarch has gifted something to you. A deeper part of yourself felt horribly guilty. From your limited knowledge of their culture, females don’t gift things. That’s the job of the male, to woo over any mates for the season.

That appreciation was thrown back in your face. We’ar-ow scoffed then huffed. You flinched, hands and shoulders drawn. A hand engulfed your neck once more. This time, much gentler. Her thumb and claw stroked up the side of your throat… right over an artery. One move, meant or not, could end your life swiftly.

Her mandibles clicked in thought, but nothing the translator picked up. Then, the warmth was gone and her massive form glided around you. She headed towards the door with purpose. Like a lost puppy, you scrambled after her.

This would be a good step forward. Maybe it be in the right direction or not, you don’t know. We’ar-ow didn’t look back once as she guided you through the door of her room, down the elevator, or through the halls. Every step this hunk of muscle took was prideful but not in an egotistical way. Here you were, a meek human doing everything in your power to keep up without looking like a fool. At least your ex-mate slowed partially down for you. She did not care.

With the pace she led, the pair had made it to the designation in her mind quickly. You realized where this was. The sparring room. Many males were already on the mats, proving their worth in a fight. That’s when you smelled the heavy scent of pheromones. Overwhelming and shoved straight into your face. Your mind couldn’t decide if the feeling it caused was good or bad.

When the Monarch entered the room, all those who were in her presence stopped. Males who were fighting tooth and nail ripped away from each other to bow respectfully. Green blood making the mats slick for them. You trotted up to We’ar-ow to stand a couple of feet behind her.

Before you had a chance to get a step closer, a blur of orange raced across your vision. Pink entered the very next second. Your brain stuttered to comprehend all you just witnessed. To your right, the Monarch held a near bone breaking grip on an orange male’s wrist. Now, it caught up to you. The male was going to grab you.

Despite seeing the tension in We’ar-ow’s body, her face was neutral as she stared down at the meek, young male. No words were needed as she calmly snapped his forearm. You slapped a hand over your mouth before any noises could escape. Even though in the past, you’ve seen the brutality that made up the Yautjas at their core. To see it happen less than a foot away from you… to hear how his bones just splintered by this female. Your stomach felt queasy at the sight.

Like it never happened, We’ar-ow faced the majority of the crowd, eyes scanning carefully through the crowd. All eyes on the Monarch. Even other females watched her with rapture, as if waiting for We’ar-ow to do something.

That’s when you felt a burning gaze so familiar. Your shoulder scrunched up to hide away, as if that was possible. You didn’t even dare to look in that general direction. Your heart pounded like a hammer. Creeping, crawling feelings snaked up your spine to settled in the middle of your chest. Echoes of his words rang back like a broken record.

“Dwainet,” the Monarch’s voice rung out like a church bell. The room seemed to still at the call of him. No one dared to speak, let alone whisper their rumors. You slowly picked up your head now, to find his eyes looking at We’ar-ow. Fear. Fear in those eyes you used to peer into.

You don’t know why but the tiniest of a proudful grins raced over your face. To see the alien that broke your heart then smashed on it right in front of you almost wet himself made you almost grin. This must not be usual for the Monarch to call out a male. Or the look on her face was deadly. You couldn’t see what she looked like from behind her. You didn’t dare peek either.

We’ar-ow raised a hand. With a single finger, she called the Yautja to step up. From your spot, it looked like it took all of Dwainet’s will to take a step forward. Let alone the rest to stop a respectful distance from her. His eyes were no longer on her anymore, but they hadn’t settled on you either. The fright in his system the only thing driving him.

The Monarch began to circle around the small male, looking him over. Each step was strategical, purposefully placed. Dwainet stood there, stiller than a statue as the female looked him over. Despite this being mating season, the look in his eye told you he knew that’s not what this was about.

When she was behind him, Dwainet sent a deadly glare down at your pathetic form. Your chest tightened. Shit. Your whole body froze as he silently glowered. Nothing in your body would listen. All of your muscles tensed, ready to spring but not moving.

Nothing left We’ar-ow’s vision. She noticed the way you tensed once behind Dwainet. If it wasn’t for your gaze stuck on him, she would’ve believed it was due to her about to best the male. Instead, We’ar-ow snatched a handful of tresses and yanked him back. All of his attention returned to her. She watched as his face morphed from the intense pain of his tresses being roughly handled.

“I challenge you, Dwainet. When I win, your pet will be mine,” We’ar-ow laid out her plans in front of the male. You watched as his eyes widened, the way his spine tensed.

Harsh whispers rolled over the large group in the sparring room. The translator that sat behind your ear did nothing, unable to pick up a single word. All you could do was glance around the room to read people’s faces the best you could. If only you could hide away when many eyes were on you. You were the center of attention now, no longer ignored as a meek pet.

Dwainet made a noise similar to choking on air. “You can have it!” he gave in so easily. Your stiff posture immediately deflated like a balloon. ‘It.’ He called you an it. The fractured pieces that still held on officially fell away to the darkness.

In a fit of unchanneled rage, you marched over to the restrained male and used a hand to yank on his only lower mandible. We’ar-ow allowed him to be moved by you, still holding onto him firmly. She couldn’t help the sliver of a smirk gracing her mandibles at the sight.

“You will fight her. You will lose. You will be left to wallow in your failure, alone!” you spat, voice gaining volume with each word till your voice echoed in the sparring room. Blood rushing through your ears and heart pounding are all you hear for a few long moments.

All you’ve done came rushing back. Before having a chance to fret over the situation, We’ar-ow hauled the male away from you to the nearest mat. The two males that occupied it were swift in their retreat and stood at the sidelines now.

Some Yautjas held smirks on their face as they watched. Others couldn’t look away from you. The rest just watched in rapture at the sight before. Something they’ve never seen before. The Monarch fighting for claim on a pet. While said pet, yourself, just stood at the edge of the mat. Yautjas crowded you from behind, not too close though. Their bodies creating a wall of muscles and bone, not letting you take a single step away. Shit. You were trapped to watch the brutality of a female that wants you. The Monarch wants you.

But your heart was far too guarded now.

#yautja #predator #yautja x reader #yautja x you #alien vs predator #predator x reader #yautja x human #predator x you #predator x human #x reader #We'ar-ow #female yautja #female predator

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writingoddess1125 · 1 year ago

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Helping Hand?

Buggy + GNReader

Fluffy Corny kinda Platonic

Just random shit I thought of

Support me on Ko-Fi ☕️

"Shit Shit Shit-" Your grumble as you frantically look around for something to tie your hair back with- You had finally gotten time to wash it out after the past few horrible days out at sea. Usually you had just come to shoving your hair into a hat and calling it a day- However your hair had gotten so tangled and messy it didn't fit into the hat at all so you figured today you would attempt to do it but ran out of time, patients and materials. Now just needing to find something to cover it with-

You wished you knew someone who did hair- Standing there you flexed your thinking power and a image comes to mind- Didn't Captian Buggy to the hair of that contortionist girl?

Captian Buggy!

Grabbing a towel to cover your mess of hair you rush quickly our of your shared quarters and down the maze of halls to the Captian's- Hesitating for a moment before you knock on the door to his room, Standing there awkwardly as they slammed open and he glared down at you.

"What do you want?" He all but hissed, clearly not pleased at having such a low member of his crew bother him.

"U-Um Captian do you.. Um" you stumbled over your words and messed with your food nervously.

"Spit it out!" He yelled making you jump-

"Do you have any hair stuff?... I lost my hat and don't know how to cover my hair or put it up for work-" You admit and pull the towel from your hair ashamed. Buggy's eyes widening for a second as he stared at the mess on your head.

He sighed annoyed, you thinking you have a Muggy Ball coming your way but instead he opens his doors to you and snaps at you to come inside.

Quickly scrambling inside you see him grabbing some tools from the massive vanity in the corner of the room. Grumbling under his breath as he did so-

"Sit there-" He snaps pointing to a lone chair which you are quick to park your ass in. With a armful of items he comes back to you quickly and looks over the damage.

"For fucks sake-"

You feel his detached hands part your hair with ease using a skilled comb before setting the moisturize your hair and begin to detangle it- about were amazed since what usually took you quite some time and arm discomfort he had done in 5 minutes tops.

"Wow youre really good at this-" You say as you feel him parting the hair expertly and beginning to braid

"How did you get so good?"

"Have to do my own damn hair everyday" He chimed casually- You remembering seeing his hair down once when a storm set it and he came out to steer in his pajamas.

"Thats right It's long- Why do you keep it long Captian?"

"You talk a lot" Buggy sighed, clearly not uses to being the one having his ear talked off and used to doing the talking-

"Sorry- I tend to babble..Especially when nervous-" You say softly, feeling embarrassed about talking so much. Buggy was silent for a second as he continued to braid-

"..It's cause of my Chop Chop abilities- I can't cut my hair it just reattaches itself so I have learned to just take care of it" He admitted calmly, this making you smile as you turn to look at him.

"That's cool! Could you use your hair in a fight!?"

"DONT MOVE! Or ill have to start over!" He snapped before flicking his wrist and the comb snaps on your scalp as punishment-

"Owie-!" You pout as you sit still as the Captian grumbles, starting that part of the braid over again as he finished his task.

"And no- It's too hard to use my hair as a Chop Chop man- gets tangled too easily" He said calmly, finishing the last braid he smoothed it with another few taps of condioner and stepped back.

"There- Go look" He said dismissively walking away from you so you could go look. There you look it the mirror and see two cute Dutch braids going down the side of your head. A bright smile on your lips as you admire your Captians work.

"Wow! You're really good at this Cap!" You say cheerfully as you look back at the Captian who was putting on fresh gloves.

"I know- Now Here, till you find your hat" He said as his hand floated to you holding a old red beanie with a tuff of fluff on the top- You smiling Brightly, him expecting the typical thanks which he was prepared to wave off.

"Yeah Yeah don't get used to it- OOF!" He stumbles when you hug him suddently- His face turning as red at his nose with the random physical affection.

"Thank you Captian! Gotta run!" You say cheerfully already knowing youre going to hear a earful from your peers about being late to your post, quickly slipping on the red beanie and running away while Buggy stood there shocked and unsure of what the hell just happened-

#x reader #one peice x reader #one piece #one peice live action #buggy one piece #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader

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howlsofbloodhounds · 2 months ago

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what do you think killers hygiene habits would be? like, given that he lives with mare constantly in survival mode, not even being able to sleep sometimes, and considering that he tends to, well, ignore some basic needs like food etc. i remember when you said he wouldmake sure all his stuff is organized or something like that, but its more about order than hygiene right? idk if skeletons need to do that at all, it would be more relevant in human ver. so if he was a human/ or he would need to maintain his hygiene as a skeleton, how would he do that (if he actually would)? maybe it would vary depending on his stage? im really interested in your opinion on that, but ofc answer only if u want to :3

I do think a lot of this will depend on the exact conditions Nightmare keeps him in, what exactly is allowed and available to Killer, and what exactly is expected of him. This will vary depending on the Nightmare interpretation, and i have no clue about if this type of thing is touched on in Dreamtale canon.

It’s not really touched on in Killer’s canon either—on the exact environment and conditions Nightmare has him in, other then that it’s a castle, Killer reports to him after every mission, and Killer rarely ever actually is shown in the castle.

Does the castle have things like food, working water, a place to sleep, a shower? Is Killer allowed access to any of these things? Is it a limited thing—does he ever have to do or say something to earn access to basic needs? Is he only allowed to shower at certain times, or does he have to do something that pleased Nightmare to earn it?

Or alternatively, does Nightmare want his subordinates to present themselves a certain way? Does he expect a certain degree of good hygiene?

Primarily, Killer’s hygiene habits will center around what keeps Nightmare happy—which means less inconvenience for him. However, Killer’s past with Chara isn’t easily shaken: especially if you go with the royal etiquette idea.

He’d want to present some form of being put together around Nightmare, both because he has to and out of instinct left over from with Chara. And you’d definitely see him trying to put more effort in if something reminds him of Chara or triggers his conditioning.

It’d be minimal and inconsistent, mostly because Killer himself likely doesn’t feel much drive to do or care for these types of things when in Stage 2, due to his apathy.

If you go with the idea that his goop seeps from cracks or joints and causes stiffness when it dries, he’d habitually make sure to clean the bones of the body to remain functional and not useless and inconvenient.

He’d probably go long periods of time without changing his clothes or shoes (considering his shoes seem to even have holes in them in his canon and are often untied), but he does seem to take care to clean everything whenever he ends up covered in dirt and blood.

I doubt he’d really feel very motivated to earn access to things like a shower or food—but more than that, he’d feel extremely uncomfortable with the idea of admitting in any way that he needs or wants something.

So even if he wants to take a shower or brush his teeth, he won’t do or say anything that makes it obvious that he needs or wants that—he’d either sit in his discomfort until Nightmare allows it, or find a way to make it seem like Nightmare’s idea to allow him access to those things.

He doesn’t feel the urge to take care of this body he’s in, viewing it as not really his, and because he doesn’t feel the urge, he doesn’t do it. Not unless some external factor calls for it, or he notices that having a certain level of a maintained appearance would help him control others’ perceptions of him.

He’d probably do things like adjust his clothing frequently, brush off dirt, wash his hands and face when he takes care of and cleans his weapons—especially if he feels Chara’s disapproval bearing down on him, their eyes as if judging him—but it’d mostly be less a conscious choice and more a drilled in habit.

I doubt hygiene would truly be a priority for Killer unless it’s a priority for Nightmare. And even then he does it out of obligation, because he has to, because it’s expected of him. Not because he cares about himself or his body, and if anything, he probably views the body’s needs as largely inconvenient and a waste of his energy. Like a prison holding him back from his purpose.

As a human, you’d probably see an almost sickly complexion, heavy eye bags. He probably often seems on the edge of just falling asleep, although you’re unlikely to tell if he’s actually fallen asleep or not, due to the whole sleeping with one eye open thing. Which would likely lead to dry, itchy, red rimmed eyes.

His hair is probably often messy in that it gets tangled due to overwork, so he probably keeps it in a bun if it’s long enough until he can attend to it (or is told to), or if the long hair becomes a hindrance, he’d probably chop it shorter with whatever sharp object can do the job. It probably looks lifeless, limp, and thin if he’s not been able to keep a steady upkeep.

He’d probably look like he has a lifeless worn out appearance, his eyes likely look hazy and possibly his pupils dilated. He’s probably missing a few teeth actually, or has some cracked and chipped teeth; not only due to lack of access to care, but due to the constant everyday violence of his work. His nails are probably chipped, and if he hasn’t been able to clean up, there may be grime like dirt, blood, and dust underneath them.

Due to his goop, his clothing is likely to always have a degree of being stained, which is why probably why he’d be more inclined to wearing black shirts and turtlenecks and long sleeves; hides the goop and hides parts of his body, which he doesn’t think is worthy of care or upkeep. His hands and palms are likely to have some scarring as well.

And yeah, this does likely mean a sense of body odor—and torn, wrinkled, or ill fitting clothing, if he’s even able change his clothes at all.

A lot of this may be easily missed, simply because of the way Killer either subconsciously carries himself or because he overcompensates whenever he’s able (like, in the scrubbing skin red and bones raw type of way, either out of a desire for pain or control or just needing to be clean in Stage 2, or a sense of disgust and shame in Stage 1), though.

I do feel that in a more canon adjacent story—where it’s just nightmare and killer, no other bad sanses, no one else to have to maintain and control a certain image for—unless this is something Nightmare specifically harps on, Killer wouldn’t really care about his appearance or his hygiene or his odor beyond what’s expected, allows functionality or serves a purpose, and what Chara used to want from him. Is often too worn out and tired to do much besides sleep—often having to choose between sleep or hygiene before the next mission. Sleep is always more ideal.

In this type of story, i think he’d start caring a lot more about his appearance whenever he starts valuing Color. Because he wants validation, and he wants Color to notice him.

So things like Color expressing concern about his hygiene and health or being happy that Killer’s taking better care of himself, even if not excessively, would read more like Color likes when Killer presents himself a certain way to him, and that’s a way to gain his approval, attention, and validation and leads to a fragile sense of self worth temporarily. I don’t know I just like the idea that killer wants to feel pretty, or that he wants someone like color to see him as pretty.

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lycandrophile · 1 year ago

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i’m getting my drains out tomorrow and i’m sure things will be different after they’re gone, so here’s my observations about top surgery recovery as of 6 days post-op!

(click here for my first post, from 3 days after)

something i forgot to mention in my last post is that if they tell you a medication has to be taken with food, do not fuck with that. absolutely do not. my antibiotic had to be taken with food and on day 2, i thought “well, i just had breakfast not too long ago, surely that’s close enough and i’ll be fine” and my parents agreed, but guess what? i spent the next hour in hell. the meds made me nauseous so i had to eat, but eating still hurt a lot because of the sore throat from being intubated, so trying to make it better just caused me more pain. and both the sore throat and the nausea (which i guess was as much a heartburn sort of situation as it was nausea) were both very chest-adjacent feelings, so that on top of the usual pain and discomfort from surgery was just a perfect storm of horrible things all centralized to one part of my body. it was awful, and i will never fuck around with something like that again. that being said, if you do find yourself in that situation or are just looking for something light that will still do the job because you’re not that hungry, 10/10 would recommend oatmeal and apple sauce. apple sauce is what finally got my body to stop rioting against me and my bad decisions, and after that i started always taking it halfway through a bowl of oatmeal and that worked perfectly.

on day 4, i was able to sit up and get out of bed by myself for the first time! i still can’t do it just by using my core muscles, but if i hold onto my legs and lower them, i can sort of roll myself up into a sitting position without using any of the affected muscles too much.

on day 5, the sore throat from hell that being intubated gave me finally went away! cheers to not gripping my pillow in pain every two seconds while i swallow my spit anymore. it lasted a while, but it honestly went away pretty fast — on day 4 it was a bit better than it had been, and then the next day it was just gone.

also on day 5, i really started to feel the bandages digging into my armpits. i’m not sure if it’s because the bandage has been slipping up over time, if my armpits have some extra swelling now, or if it’s just been wearing my body down over time, but it feels like it’s starting to cut off circulation at a certain point and it makes my arms ache sometimes. that’s probably not great, but the surgeon will be redoing everything at my post-op anyway so i’ve just been riding it out until then. in the meantime, i can tell it’s definitely worse when i’m sitting back and kind of slouched (because that position pushes it up more), so i try to sit up or walk around when i feel it. having pillows on either side of me to put my elbows up on definitely also helps a lot — that’s how i’ve been sleeping, but it would be good for just sitting too.

also also on day 5, i started getting this weird fluttery feeling in the spot where the left side of my chest and the meat of my left armpit connect. it feels like it’s probably some sort of muscle spasm. it’s not painful at all, but i honestly wish it was because it’s just super weird and uncomfortable instead and i hate it. it genuinely might be my least favorite out of any pains or sensations i’ve had so far. luckily, though, it seems like it’s already died down and only happened a couple times today.

my energy has been all over the place. i’m at the point now where mentally i’m much closer to my normal state so i’m once again having the adhd urge to constantly do stuff, but my body’s ability to keep up is far less consistent. sometimes i get restless and can just get up and pace around for a while, but other times i try to do that and get really quickly exhausted. i’m definitely more able to have conversations and feel more like myself now though, even when my body is tired out.

i’ve been thirsty as all hell the past few days. i feel like i’m constantly asking my boyfriend to refill my water for me because i drain it so fast. it’s a very specific kind of thirst, too — like it never quite goes away even when i’m definitely very thoroughly hydrated, and like anything but water can’t even touch it. it’s not a bad thing, getting lots of fluids after surgery is important and i wouldn’t be surprised if that’s exactly why my body is doing it, but it is a bit frustrating to just be incessantly thirsty for days at a time.

my walking posture is getting straighter every day. i still have to hold my chest to walk because of the bandage feeling like it drags things down, but if i’m walking with my mastectomy pillow, it mostly just looks like a typical slouch and not the deep hunch i started with.

at this point, my chest is super sensitive to any kind of movement, and that’s the other thing the pillow has been really good for at this stage. if the bandage shifts at all, if my body moves at all, basically anything — i feel it all in my chest really intensely. it’s not always painful, but it isn’t comfortable either. holding the pillow to my chest helps stabilize things so the movement doesn’t reach the sensitive parts as much, which is really great.

walking up stairs is easier than walking down stairs, which is the exact opposite of what i would’ve guessed. from what i can tell just from moving around, i think it’s because bending your legs up to a higher step pretty solidly relies on your legs and lower core muscles to make it happen, while reaching your legs down to a lower step requires stretching your body out (which is famously not your body’s favorite thing to do after top surgery). it often feels like i almost can’t reach the step below and have to just barely catch it with the balls of my feet. it’s also just generally been good to take the stairs super slow going up or down because you really can’t use the railing — putting enough weight on it to really rely on it at all requires using chest muscles, so the best i’ve been able to do is just rest my hand on it in case of emergency (because i’d rather hurt my chest than crack my head open if it comes to that).

one of the things that makes the stairs hard is that my center of balance is off from hunching, and that definitely affects my walking too. it’s less pronounced now that i’m in the habit of using the pillow to walk straighter, but i have to take shorter strides and sort of shuffle around because longer strides need better balance, and even with the shuffle i’m stumbling more than usual. i already have some balance problems so i’m pretty used to the feeling of it, but it has freaked my parents out a couple times to see me start listing to one side before i catch myself.

fuck reflexes. reflexes are the actual worst. something i didn’t anticipate is that no matter how careful you are to not reach your arms too far or move them too fast, you can never totally account for what you do if something starts falling. a few times now, i’ve definitely reached too far or fast before stopping myself because i saw something about to go down and my brain instinctively told my hands to catch it. i’m not sure if there’s anything you can really do about that, but it’s worth being aware of because it caught me by surprise the first time i did it.

one side of my chest has been consistently more swollen than the other. that side has also consistently drained less, and the fluid it does drain is darker and redder. we asked my surgeon if that was normal and she said there’s almost always one side that drains more than the other, but it’s still something we’ve been keeping an eye on. hopefully i’ll be able to get a more concrete answer at my post-op, once she can see the swelling up close and look at the drainage numbers from the past week.

as i’ve been getting some use of my body back, the pain in my chest has gotten a bit more obvious. it’s milder pain, and when i’m not doing anything it’s mostly painless to the point where i’m going a lot longer between tylenol doses, but when i’m using my body, i can definitely feel it. the fact that i’m not avoiding physical activity like the plague as much means i’m noticing more pain even though objectively my pain levels have gone down — the things that hurt now didn’t hurt less before, i just didn’t even attempt them before because i knew they would hurt so much. now that the pain is down, i can try more things, which means i’m more likely to try something that ends up hurting. of course, you should always try to follow the if-it-hurts-then-stop rule, but you can’t avoid the pain altogether as you learn your body’s boundaries, so i ended up getting to a point where getting better feels like getting worse.

on that note, i’ve also learned that there’s a pretty distinct difference between milder “i should proceed with caution” pain and intense “stop what you’re doing right now” pain. as much as avoiding things that hurt is ideal, it’s not always realistic, but my body has definitely been very clear in telling me what i can and can’t compromise on. in the beginning i was really paranoid about doing anything that caused any pain at all, but now i’m more familiar with where i can push a bit further if needed and where i really need to hold off.

i’ve been getting chills much more easily lately, and they’ve also been SUPER strong. i’ll be watching a show or listening to music and something will give me chills, and it’s a really intense feeling all across my ribs, and even thinking about the thing that caused it brings on a whole new wave. i’m super curious to see if it’s just a temporary result of my nerves doing their thing or if it’ll stick around long-term. it’s not unpleasant at all, i honestly really like it.

i got some food for myself for the first time today (day 6) and it just involved slicing some pretty soft cheese, but wow, it was a workout for my shoulder. i’m guessing it’s because i haven’t really used my muscles in that way for a week, and because not being able to use my chest muscles means i was relying on my shoulder a lot more to do all the work of moving my arm. by the time i was done, just holding the block of cheese to put it back in the fridge felt like lifting weights.

i didn’t change my shirt the first few days but i’ve changed a few times now, and we’ve perfected the art of getting a button up shirt on me without overreaching my arms at all. basically, you want to put both arms into the sleeves before you lift the shirt up onto your shoulders, because once the shirt is on one shoulder, you have to reach back a lot farther to get to the other sleeve. once you have both arms in, you can lift it onto your shoulders and button it. ideally, whoever’s helping you should do most of the work to pull the sleeves over your arms so you don’t have to stretch your arm out to get them on. i’m sure that’ll be overkill once i have a bit more mobility, but for now, it works great. it definitely would be tough if the shirt was fitted though, so i’m glad i went up a size.

i hope my posts like this have been helpful, or at least interesting to read! i’ll definitely keep updating as time goes on and things change, and i’m also going to work on a breakdown of my experience at the hospital pre- and post-op, as well as my post-op appointment experience once that happens tomorrow.

y’all are getting the good, the bad, and the ugly of my recovery experience. i know a lot of this has been very focused on the bad and the ugly so far because surgery is generally rough, but i’m going to see my chest again tomorrow so stay tuned for some good!

#bet you weren’t expecting an even longer post than my last one #i just have so much to say about this whole experience #i want to document EVERYTHING especially the stuff i haven’t seen other people mention #top surgery adventures #top surgery #trans man #transmasc

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midnightstar-90 · 2 years ago

Text

Payback

Eddie Diaz x Fem! Reader

Taglist | Request | Wattpad

Main Masterlist | 9-1-1 Masterlist

Request from Ella: Reader either dating Eddie, best friends with Hen or a member of the team. Reader faints and whoever you choose helps out. They’re okay just a scare. Maybe some home cooked food and juice afterwards? Hurt/comfort please. Thank you.

Summary: After fainting, Eddie looks after the reader.

Warnings: Angst, Fainting, Fluff

A/N: My Buck and Eddie fluff and angst fanfics are some of my favorites to write. It’s a shame that there isn’t a lot out there.

Words: 1.1K Words

I walked into my apartment after a long HOT day at work. L.A. had recently been hit with a heatwave, and the office building where I had worked’s AC didn’t help with the 110-degree weather.

I placed my purse on the kitchen counter, along with my keys, before getting a cup out of the cabinet. Before I could even get a drop of water into my cup, I heard a knock at the door. Annoyed, my head fell back as I released a loud groan. With each step I took to open the door, a clicking sound from my heels, meeting the hard flooring, echoed through my apartment.

“Who is it?” I asked, now at the door.

I heard a male voice call out, “It’s Eddie.” I looked through the peephole, finding that the name and voice matched the face. I opened the door finding Eddie in jeans and a button-down shirt. In his hands, he carried groceries from my local supermarket.

He looked at me with a smile before his eyes met my face. My face was red, with sweat pouring down my face. “Are you okay?” He asked as I let him in. I went to close the door, stumbling over myself, as I heard the click of my door shut. “Yeah, I’m alright,” I said with a slight slur.

Eddie swiftly placed the groceries down on my kitchen counter, next to my keys and purse, before making his way to me. “Y/N, are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale,” He said. Eddie placed his hands on each side of my face, observing me to see if I was alright. I nodded my head, “yes,” but Eddie didn’t believe me. “Y/N, your eyes are dilated, your skin is pale, and you’re sweating like crazy. I think you should sit down.”

“Here,” Eddie directed, pulling me over to my couch. He helped me sit down before he said, “I’m going to get you some water.”

I felt myself become dizzy. Black spots took over my vision, and soon it became hard to breathe. “Eddie,” I mumbled loud enough for Eddie to hear. He turned around, and his eyes went wide before all I saw was black.

“She’s going to be just fine, Mr. Diaz,” I heard a voice say, but everything was still black. I tried to open my eyes, but it was no use. Nothing happened. ‘Am I in a coma?’ I asked myself frantically. “Your wife suffers from dehydration, which is common on days like this. She should wake up soon, but we want to keep her a little longer after she wakes up to make sure that nothing else is wrong with her,” the mystery man said.

I heard some shuffling and a door open and close before my eyes began to flutter open. A bright light took over my vision, causing me to groan in discomfort. “Y/N,” I heard next to me. As soon as I was fully conscious, I turned my head to face the voice, only to see Eddie staring down at me in a slight panic. I felt his hand tightly grip mine. “I’m so glad you’re okay,” He said, giving me a sad smile.

“Where am I,” I spoke groggily.

“Well, you passed out, so I brought you to the hospital. You’ve been out for a few hours, but the doctor said that you were fine. You’re just suffering from a case of dehydration,” Eddie said, leaning down to kiss my hand. “I was so worried,” he added.

“This is payback for all those times you’ve almost died on me. This is nothing compared to when you got shot,” I state, earning a small laugh from Eddie.

“I’m so happy you’re okay. When we get home, I’m going to make that dinner I was going to make earlier, and we can binge any show you want tonight.” I beamed up at Eddie’s words, knowing exactly what we were going to watch tonight.

“Supernatural?” I asked, looking up at Eddie with a gleam of hope in my eye.

“Sure,” Eddie chuckled at my child-like behavior and nodded his head.

Eddie and I sat in the hospital room for about half an hour before my doctor came back. He took a sample of my blood to make sure everything was fine, and when he came back, he gave me the all clear to go home.

When I got back home, I flopped on the couch. “Ahh,” I moaned. “It feels so good to be home!” I exclaimed, earning a laugh from Eddie.

From the kitchen, Eddie began to speak, “I’m glad you’re happy because I’ve got a very special dinner planned tonight.”

Standing up from the couch, I walked into the kitchen. I went over to Eddie, who was putting pasta into boiling water, and wrapped my arms around his waist. I turned my head and placed my face against his back. “I love you, my husband,” I joked, feeling his muscles tense.

“You heard that?” Eddie asked, his voice shaky.

“I heard what the doctor called me. I assumed you told the doctor that,” I said smugly.

“They wouldn’t let me back unless we were immediate family, and I panicked,” Eddie spoke as he stirred the pasta.

“Hmm. I like the sound of that,” I mumbled against his back.

“What?”

“Mrs. Diaz,” I responded.

“Maybe one day,” Eddie said, putting a gleeful smile on my face.

When Eddie was done cooking, he made both of our plates and sat them on the table across from each other. He had made spinach and chicken alfredo with garlic bread. I sat at one of the seats where a plate was placed, and Eddie made his way back into the kitchen.

“They didn’t have that supper fancy wine that you like, so I got apple and grape juice,” He said, walking out of the kitchen with two juice containers and two wine glasses.

“Apple,” I said with a laugh.

He poured apple juice into both of our cups before sitting down across from me. My head shook up and down as I spoke with an amused smile. “I’ve got to give it to you, Eddie. This is the most special dinner I’ve ever had,” I said as I sipped my juice.

“Well, I hope so because Chris is gonna be pissed,” He said, sending us into a frenzy. Our laughs echoed through the apartment.

When the laughs began to calm down, Eddie calmly stated, “I love you, Y/N. And I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I love you too, Eddie. And I’m also glad I’m okay, so I can do this.” I stood up. Leaning over the table, I gave Eddie a small kiss on the lips and sat back down. “Now, when can we watch our show?”

If your user is in red, it means that I couldn't find you. Please let me know if you would still like to be added to my taglist.

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gatitties · 9 months ago

Note

Hi, I saw your request is back!

I'm not sure, if I have an idea.. but this will be a long request, I'm sorry. 😅

I wonder if the female teen reader used to be a result of an accidental experiment as a child, she gained telepathic abilities, allowing her to read the minds of people. The organization gave her the code name Test Subject (Your number), because of her abilities. The scientists didn’t treat her as an ordinary child as she wasn’t allowed to play or have fun because they wanted her to learn how to use her powers for world peace.

She escaped the research facility of the unknown organization. She found herself moving from one orphanage to another, all while seeking someone to take care of her permanently.

She keeps her telepathic ability hidden because she doesn't want them to think she's weird and freak. If they find out her ability, she feels frozen or quickly runs away to escape from them

Abilities:She utilizes her telepathy to gain significant advantage over others, such as reading the enemy's mind during a fight to predict their next moves. She's . She was already helping her friends without them knowing who helped her. She is a master of martial arts, ini and immune to poison.

Weakness: Due to many people's mind nearby. She's telepathy causes her exhaustion and nosebleed due to her ability to read too many people's thoughts at the same time. She loses her telepathic ability when it's a full moon. When she's trying to read someone with a complicated and genius mind. She is unable to understand what he is thinking due to the massive amount of information. This also branches to her poor grammar skills, when leaving messages to others only leading them to unable to understand what she is writing. As well as not knowing how to write a warning message on a paper to them, but she instead drew things, which still confuses them.

She craved adventure because of her favorite book about pirates or spies, also it would constantly remind her of the hero that saved her.

Her personality is a bubbly and cheerful young girl with a kind-hearted. She appears to be much smarter than she actually is, and while this is true to an extent, this is likely artificially inflated because she can read other people's minds, a fact that nobody aside from her is aware of.

She became violent towards anyone, who was teasing her just like likely remembering that Luffy did the same thing to the Celestial Dragon for shooting Hatchin. She displays a fearsome presence when taking care of her targets where they even tremble in fear upon spotting her.

Unlike most people and children, who are scared of pirates, she thought they were the coolest thing ever and desperately wanted to be a pirate or family. But she's only scared of Nami's angry issue with scolding Luffy and being careful with her but she loves her like a mother figure.

However, she respects the desires of her family figure a lot, and when her mother figure asked her not to punch people who displease her, and instead smile at them, she did as she was told, although with visible discomfort, noting that she feels her mother figure lied when she told her that it would make her feel better and defuse the situation.

She woke up so late in the morning.

Her favourite food is peanuts. She loves animals and making friends.

With Straw hats and other pirates too! (Platonic Pls!!)

─Strawhats x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

─Summary: You never thought you could be part of a crew, much less have friends after you escaped those labs, but you made room in your heart for those who showed you kindness.

─Warnings: none

woah you got a whole story there! some of you have so much amacing ideas, you could really write your own fanfic easily and it would be amazing <3 and I'm sorry this took so long, I needed a break from everything

You thought that your life was condemned and predestined to follow orders, like a device to be used in favor of other people, created to please and serve, perhaps you were too naive or it was just because you were a simple child lost and confused by the experiments that they made you, but it didn't take long for you to break because of that.

Every step you took became careful, every action had great repercussions, you began to be overly aware of your surroundings, you began to mature when you should be playing with toys or enjoying time outdoors, yet you were kept locked up to develop powers that had been conceived for you by those same people who supposedly raised you.

It was always 'you don't need that' or 'do this to be a good girl', there was always 'you will get a reward if you behave well' or 'there will be a punishment if you don't do what we ask', all those words started to do dented your brain to the point where you couldn't take it anymore, thanks to the development of your power to read minds, you made a perfect escape plan.

And so it was that at a young age you took to the sea to escape those who posed as your caretakers, while most people would avoid conflicts with pirates or thieves, you found yourself turning to them most of the time, as whether they realized it or not, at least you stowed away many times.

Your heart sank as you saw how other children and teenagers were enjoying home life, longingly observing all types of families, you wished more than ever to be able to experience something like that, but you quickly ruled it out, that would make you an easy target for those evil people would find you again, besides, you liked being so free to do what you wanted, not having anyone on top of you telling you to do things was a weight that you took off your shoulders, your personality changed slightly since you felt much better now, taking a much brighter perspective on life.

You allowed yourself the luxury of using your powers without restrictions or efforts, helping some people in trouble in a selfless way, which was what made you meet at least a few pirates ─who usually got into more trouble─ so, you would use this to your advantage so they would let you travel with them to the next island more easily.

Heart Pirates, Kid Pirates, Whitebeard Pirates and even two people with names as famous as Mihawk and Shanks, you had the opportunity to see them in person, even help them or travel with them for a short period of time, they remembered yourself and the freedom you gained after disobeying 'the order' imposed.

But what you never thought about was that you would end up being part of a crew, something you could call family, Luffy was too insistent that you travel with them and the others were too kind to be able to deny their offer, you didn't promise anything because you claimed to be a stray cat traveling with them for the moment, but your heart had already made too much room for them to abandon them and continue on your own.

A point of no return after seeing how concerned Nami is with you, how you can enjoy playing with Chopper, Usopp and Luffy without worries, a place where your diet is well balanced by Sanji, where you can rest as much as you want as Zoro, where you can go whenever you feel exhausted from not being able to control your power so well, Robin is there to guide you, Brook and Ginbe will calm you down with their music or words and Franky will tell you the worst jokes in his collection to make you laugh.

You cursed your miserable life at the beginning of your adventure when you escaped from those laboratories, looking for so many places to fit in that you never thought you would make it, but against all odds, here you were, traveling alongside a crew that you happily call family without regret it, your old worries have been blown away by the sea wind, now it's your turn to enjoy your youth and freedom, you would defend the crew tooth and nail for protecting you and giving you the warmth that you were looking for from day one.

#op #one piece #strawhats #x reader #fem reader #platonic reader #one piece x platonic reader #teen reader #strawhats x platonic reader #strawhats x teen reader #sfw #reader insert #request #one piece x reader #xreader

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lovelystarlightsblog · 7 months ago

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When they get Chickenpox.

This has been on my mind for a ridiculous amount of time and I’m finally here to post it!

Albert James Moriarty

May god bless you with patience… Trust me you’ll need it…

This man is straight up a MANACE. I’m not even kidding. You better prepare yourself like you’re going to war cause taking care of him is the most annoying, challenging, and frustrating thing you’ll ever deal with.

I cannot even stress enough how much of a pain he is when he’s sick. And this man clearly doesn’t enjoy discomfort or any kind of annoyance. And boy! He’s easily irritated. So to make this short… He’s a little b!tch…

He whines and complains nonstop about how itchy he is and how miserable he feels with his fever and red spots all over him. He also gets twice as emotional and gets irritated about the tiniest things, even if it’s as small as how his tea is getting cold.

He just finds everything around him is annoying, and in all honesty… Taking care of him is a great way to test everyone’s patience.

Albert is generally an easily irritated man, so imagine him feeling itchy all over while having a fever to complete it like a cherry on top…. Yeah, it’s not pretty at all. And you know that.

There’s not a single moment where he doesn’t act all grumpy and pouting so much. And he acts all dramatic about everything. He gets annoyed at small things and keeps telling you how uncomfortable he feels. Everytime you enter the room you always see him lay back against the bed frame with a pillow behind him. Crossing his arms and pouting like a child.

Louise is going to have to buy new plates and cups because Albert sometimes break them by pushing them off, either because the food is cold or too salty. Starving him is not an option and never will be. Cause he gets crankier when angry. Louise is almost furious at him.

The bigger problem is that Albert CAN’T keep his hands still. He just can’t handle the itching so he vigorously scratches himself all over. Nagging him that scratching only makes it worse and leave scars only stops him for a few minutes. And after that, he gets back to scratching every spot he could possibly reach. You, William, Louise had no choice but to tie his hands in mittens. And oh boy, Albert has never hated mittens so much in his whole life…

But despite his behavior, he’s actually incredibly clingy! He clings onto you close and holds you tight like his life depends on it, not wanting you to leave him for just a second. It’s adorable, but also annoying cause you have to convince him sometimes to let you leave for a minute. (Including when you need to go to the bathroom)

This would all be amusing and hilarious if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s so ANNOYING. Albert who’s usually calm and collective person suddenly turns into a cranky child with chickenpox. It’s definitely funny. You never seen him to be such a mess before, and it’s almost at the point where it’s… Amusing… (still annoying though)

The whole crew is pretty much exhausted. Including William and Louise. Jack even tells you to stop babying him cause Albert had became a lot more spoiled now. And everyone agree that out of all the missions they face. This is the hardest one…

You help him apply lotion and ointment to soothe the itching, and he’s surprisingly quiet the whole time. Only letting out small moans and sighs as you rub the lotion on his reddish skin. The tone where he ISN’T a pain to deal.

There’s also bathing him in oatmeal. And a little heads up, the water has to be just right or he’ll start complaining. But once that settled he’ll just relax as he’s soaked in the warm water. Just make sure to take an eye on him cause there’s a chance he might scratch himself.

And once he’s finally recovered (which usually last 1-2 weeks as an adult making it feels like an eternity for everyone). He’ll pretend that nothing happened. Though he’ll try to make it up for everyone by giving them something in return, cause to be honest. He’s absolutely MORTIFIED to think back how he was acting when he was sick. One more important note, never. And I mean NEVER bring that up again. He’ll give anyone the most intense glare to whoever brings that up that the word “terrifying” would be a huge understatement.

LOL I may have made Albert a bit out of character, but I seriously have no regrets. He’s such an a$$hole I love him….

I love my adult-sized baby~…

#moriarty the patriot #albert james moriarty #moriarty the patriot x reader #chickenpox #chickenpox headcanon #I’m too lazy to do the rest in one go

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mayhem-neverending · 9 months ago

Text

The Big Bad Wolf

Part XIX

Word Count: 3460

Warnings: Mentions of childbirth (nothing graphic), sexual tones

Note: Not sure how I feel about this one, but here we are.

Obito slept a good majority of the next day. He would wake intermittently, always to find himself back in dreamland before he could roll himself out of bed. It didn’t matter much that he slept, not when you had two days off post-mission. That, and he was in need of groceries, which he wasn’t able to get himself, so when he did finally drag himself from his warm covers, he only sat and ate a few pieces of cheese and crackers before returning to his slumber.

He woke early the next morning. His limbs were sore from sleeping curled into a ball, but he was otherwise well-rested. He stared out of his window at the weak winter light that struggled to rise above the horizon. He watched it for a while, time passing without his notice as his coherent mind returned to him.

Eventually, he braved slipping from his warm covers and out into the cold air that permeated his home. He shivered in his thick sweater and sweatpants and padded out into the living room to start a fire. He settled the wood appropriately, and used a fire katon to easily light it. He absently rubbed his wrist where the chakra-dampening bracelets had been.

He pulled the quilt he made from the basket next to the couch and threw it over his shoulders while he perused the growing number of books on his shelf. He liked that you never asked for the books you lent back. He liked to page through his favorite parts when you would go home and pretend you were nestled down beside him, ready to listen to whatever he found so interesting in the pages. His imagination was even more vivid now that he had truly experienced your calming warmth against him.

It occurred to him that he might enjoy your company more than he would like to admit - a lot more. The thought made him uncomfortable, though the truth of it was undeniable. He shook his head like he was physically dislodging the thought. He would return to examine it another time, he promised himself.

He selected a book that he had only gotten a page or two into and found his way to the couch where he plopped down and made himself comfortable. He read a few pages before stopping when he couldn’t find it in himself to fully concentrate. The fire made the usual noises: a crack here, a pop there.

He had a sense of unease. He shifted under his quilt and strained to hear anything that would reveal the cause. The house creaked as it shifted, a bird tweeted here and there, the wind was fairly still, but not threateningly so. It was mostly just… quiet.

It didn’t take him long to realize that was precisely the problem. He was in solitude once again. His eyes scanned the still very bare room, then landed on the book in his hand. He sighed, and sat it on the floor next to the couch. It occurred to him that he should be grateful. The silence wasn’t loud, not like when you first started coming around. Being only uneasy was progress - profound progress if he really considered it.

Unfortunately, that thought didn’t make his discomfort dissipate. He stood, keeping his blanket securely around him, and went back to his room. It would be easier to pass his time asleep until seeing you again.

…

On your first day off, you stayed home with Hikaru except to visit the market after purging your fridge of half rotten fruit and vegetables. The shop owners were happy to see you, and kept you in a loop of small talk all morning. You let Hikaru pick out some of your food and even let him carry a small bag with a pastry he had picked out on the way home.

You made a lovely meal for the two of you, and enjoyed a quiet day together. The second day, you took Hikaru to daycare mid-morning, opting to sleep in with him and enjoy a hearty breakfast beforehand.

The day was rather mild for winter, the snow starting to melt under the bright sun. You swung your arms as you walked, enjoying the little bit of heat the sun managed to grace you with when the breeze stilled. You had a backpack with leftovers and Hikaru’s old baby clothes for Hina. It bounced against your back with each step.

The small safehouse came into view soon after you ducked into the trees. You walked through the warding easily and right up to the front door. You knocked once and waited.

Genma opened it with that lazy smile of his, though you noted the absent senbon. “Good morning,”

“Good morning,” you answered as you passed him.

“She’s in the bath. Said she wasn’t feeling good,” he said as he closed the door.

“Thanks,”

You went into the kitchen and busied yourself with putting the leftovers in her fridge. It was fairly empty, you noticed. There were a few takeout containers and a couple condiments, but nothing of substance. You frowned, already making a list in your head of things she would need.

“Make enough for me, too?” Genma asked from behind you.

You straightened from your bend and glanced at him and his relaxed stance. “Seeing as you haven’t been feeding her well, I’ll have to say ‘no’ to that one,”

He pouted dramatically. “Aw, c’mon, I’m not even in charge of that,”

You opened your mouth to reproach him.

“Genma?!” A frantic shout sounded from around the corner.

You hurried ahead of him to find Hina barely covered in her towel, completely sopping wet outside of the entrance of the bathroom. The panic covering her face morphed into relief, and then back to panic upon seeing you.

“Thank Kami you’re here!”

“What’s wrong? Are you alright?” You checked her over visually.

“I think the baby’s coming,”

Your widened eyes met hers and you paused at the way she was looking back at you. “..You think or you know?”

“I know,”

“We need to get you to the hospital,” you said, trying to turn her towards the bedroom to get some clothes on her.

“I don’t.. I don’t think there’s time,” she groaned, her face scrunching up.

You looked at her with even wider eyes and then it clicked. If she told Genma she wasn’t feeling good, then… “How long have you been having contractions?”

She breathed in deeply and tried to speak through her obvious pain. “I.. since the middle of the night, I think. I didn’t want to worry anybody…”

You glanced over your shoulder at Genma, who wasn’t doing a good job at looking like he wasn’t horrified at the situation. You looked back at her standing there, her legs beginning to shake. Grabbing a hold of her arm and putting it over your shoulder, you barked at Genma, “Call Sakura, I’m going to have her lay down in the bedroom,”

You helped her up on the bed, her eyes following your every movement. Tears sprung up and she sniffled. You pushed her wet hair away from her pretty face and shushed her with a small smile, excitement for the impending birth sparking inside you as some of the panic subsided. You could handle this; both of you could.

“Are you ready for this?”

She shook her head, tears sliding down her cheeks. Her face scrunched up again in pain and she groaned.

“I’m right here,” you said supportively.

“I know,” she whispered, hiccuping.

“Tell me what you need,” you said gently, her hand in yours.

Her teary green eyes snapped to yours, boring into you with intensity that pushed the air from your lungs. “I’m sorry, but I would trade everything I’ve ever loved for Javi to be the one with me right now,”

…

The dream Obito was having left him flushed and sweating profusely. He groaned aloud in the dim room in his sleep. It started with the tent, you on top of him to share his heat. Then he could feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping lightly against his scalp as you breathily called his name.

Heat flashed through his body at what came next. Your lips against his throat, his collarbone. His hands gripping the soft flesh of your ass, his own voice calling to you, only to be silenced with your desperate lips on his. You ground against him, sweetly whining his name against his lips.

“Obito?” You said in his dream, still grinding against him while he moaned breathily beneath you.

“Obito?” You asked again, now sitting up, fully dressed again, eyeing him with concern.

His dream self tried pulling you closer to resume what you two had been doing, but you suddenly shook his shoulder. Obito’s heavy eyelids opened and he looked around blearily. He was confused until he rubbed at them, and Kakashi came into clear view above him.

Obito’s heart was beating rapidly and he realized he was breathing heavily. He tried to hide it once his mind connected the dots, but failed miserably. “Bakashi, what are you doing here?”

“Bakashi?” Kakashi’s eyebrows rose as he looked his friend over.

Obito flushed a deep red at the look of embarrassment that flashed across Kakashi’s face after he gave him a once-over. He cleared his throat and Obito wished his soul would hurry up and leave his sweaty body.

“I’ll, uh, give you a second. I.. yeah. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he all but slammed the door shut behind him.

Obito flopped face first into his pillow and tried not to scream.

After he went to the bathroom and calmed down, he awkwardly met Kakashi in the kitchen. He was standing there looking out the window, tapping a scroll against the countertop.

“What time even is it?” Obito asked gruffly, not quite meeting Kakashi’s eyes as he turned around.

“Almost eight, now,”

They made eye contact and looked away from each other. “I just wanted to bring you a copy of the amendment we’ve made to your terms of imprisonment,”

Obito’s brow twitched. “What does it say?”

Kakashi handed the scroll over and Obito unrolled it. He scanned it over, a wave of irritation washing over him. It said that he would be allowed a day of supervised community service inside the village once a month, and one year removed from his sentence.

He was not overcome with any emotion at the news. In fact, all he wanted was for Kakashi to get out of his home so that he could be embarrassed in peace, which he decided was what he should have asked him to do in the first place. He made a noncommittal noise to indicate he had finished reading.

Kakashi took the scroll back and tucked it into one of his many pockets. They stood there looking at each other, Kakashi waiting for any other response, Obito waiting for him to say his piece and leave. Uncomfortable silence permeated the space for a few moments.

Kakashi rocked back and forth on his heels, hands going into his pants pockets. “She’ll be here soon,”

Obito stiffened and felt himself heat up, and couldn’t help but momentarily glance at his front door. “Yeah,”

When Kakashi didn’t say anything else, Obito stepped around him and filled the coffee pot with water. He filled the coffee maker and started spooning out the coffee grounds while Kakashi just stood there with slightly narrowed eyes.

“What?” Obito grumbled.

It was clear wheels were turning in Kakashi’s mind. “She’s… important to you,”

Obito nodded slowly and watched Kakashi out of the corner of his eye. “She’s been… kind to me. A friend, even,”

Kakashi sighed out through his nose. “I knew she would be the right person to help you,”

“How’s that?” Obito asked slowly, looking into his friend’s eyes.

“Remember during the war, when you asked how I knew Naruto would win?”

Obito looked to the side as his body stiffened again. After a moment he quietly replied, “Because he had his comrades standing behind him… because he made people want to hold their hands out to him when he stumbled,”

Kakashi nodded solemnly. “Y/n has been that person to me - even in the beginning when I was cold and angry with her for no good reason. I knew that she was capable of being that person for you, too,”

Obito huffed a laugh out of his nose and leaned fully against the counter. “She makes you want to do it for her, too,”

Kakashi smiled. “I don’t think she realizes the effect she has on people… I wish you could have met her before Toma. Half the shinobi force was tripping over themselves just to get a glance from her,”

Sudden jealousy, hot and sharp, pierced his chest. His lips turned downward as the feeling rattled him. He scoffed. “They’d still be lucky just to get a glance from her. And don’t say that piece of shit’s name in my house. I still can’t get over the shit he said to her right in front of us,”

The coffee maker brewed angrily behind Obito. His dream from this morning crossed his mind but he quickly pushed it aside.

“Speak of the devil,” Kakashi murmured as he felt you pass through the barrier.

The both of them looked over to the living room window where they could watch you approaching. Obito noticed that Kakashi straightened his shoulders a bit right before you came through the door, which made him realize he did exactly the same thing.

“Good morning!” You called out as you swung open the door.

“Oh,” you said before smiling. “Kakashi, what are you doing here?”

“I was delivering the scroll with the changes made to Obito’s imprisonment,”

Your smile widened as you looked over at Obito. “That’s great! What are the changes?”

“I’m allowed into the village for community service once a month,” Obito replied rather unenthusiastically.

“And we shaved a year off of his time,” Kakashi finished.

You pulled a scroll from your bag and placed it on the counter between them. “That’s good news. Maybe you can make some more friends while you’re in the village. Orrrrr maybe you can babysit for Hina, that could count, right?”

“I don’t know about that,”

You wove your hands and unsealed the scroll. Groceries piled atop the counter and you smiled excitedly. “He was born yesterday, Hina’s baby boy,”

Obito looked down at you with surprise. “Oh, congratulations,”

You nodded and started putting the groceries away, rambling on happily, “He has those same bright green eyes she does and wispy little black hairs. And he latched right on. Never heard of a baby looking for a boob like that. The second he was in her arms he was rooting around. He was up all night just eating and eating, I swear. It’s like the little guy was the one walking the whole way back here instead of her,”

Obito looked at you in mild amusement and looked over your head at Kakashi who was holding the refrigerator door open for you. He asked, “What did she decide to name him?”

“Toji. It was the name her husband chose before.. Y’know… Toji Javier Zen’in. And her mom is making her way from Suna to come stay with her to help. Our grandma is there right now, too,”

“Sounds like she’s in good hands,” Kakashi commented, closing the fridge after you put the last item away.

“I have to head to the office, I’ll see you later,”

“Have a good day,” you called over your shoulder, already pulling out a pan to start breakfast.

The men nodded to each other and he left. Obito mentally sighed in relief. After being without you a few days he didn’t want to have your attention divided. When Kakashi was all the way across the barrier you ceased your actions and turned to Obito, holding out your arms.

He gave you a questioning look and you rolled your eyes. You stepped in and warped your arms around him, pressing your entire body flush against him. He returned the hug in earnest, a pink tinge tinting his ears as the dream from that morning once again crossed his mind - this time without being pushed away so easily.

“What’s this for?” He asked into your hair.

“I wanted to,” You pressed closer.

He hummed, his eyes closing as he gratefully breathed you in. You smelled sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. His body buzzed with the contact. You pulled back and looked up into his dark eyes under his thick lashes. “Something about Hina having her baby makes me.. I don’t know, ‘touchy’? I’m just feeling… I don’t know. Would you-”

You looked away, suddenly feeling unsure of yourself under his attentive gaze. “Would I - what?”

You stepped back, having lost your ability to voice your question. You smoothed out the front of his sweater -which was decidedly unwrinkled- and turned back to what you were supposed to be doing - work. His curiosity burned him almost as much as your touch did.

“Nevermind, it was silly,”

He thought for a moment and then poured a cup of coffee for you and himself. He placed yours in front of you and caught the smile that lifted the corner of your lips. “Thank you,”

“Of course. Now, what was it you were going to ask?”

“It sounds dumb,” you mumbled, cracking eggs into the pan.

“Nothing you say sounds dumb,” he replied without hesitation.

He watched you inhale and then look at him before looking away again. “Would you - can I - uhm, today…”

You inhaled deeply and let your words tumble out with your breath. “Can we curl up together? Like, cuddle for a little bit?”

Surprise etched across his face. He stared at you, trying to process that you were in fact asking him, Obito Uchiha, for snuggles. It was taking too long for him to process, he realized, because genuine discomfort and dejection crossed your features before you turned away from him.

“It’s okay of you don’t want to, I understand,”

“No, no that’s not it,” Obito replied quickly, taking a step closer to you.

You didn’t turn to look at him, feeling too embarrassed that you overstepped a boundary and disappointed because you really really wanted to be held. You felt his hand hesitantly find a place on your shoulder and his body heat as he leaned in.

“I was just surprised, I mean. That you want to do that with.. Me,”

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye, a brow raised. “I thought it was clear I wasn’t bothered by you when we, y’know, shared our joined sleeping bags?”

The reminder brought his dream right back to the forefront of his mind. He felt himself twitch, and backed up a little bit, trying to seem nonchalant. You detected a deeper rasp to his voice when he spoke again that had you turning towards him.

“I thought it was just for the sake of warmth,”

“You’re comfy too,” you grinned.

“Well, uh… you want to, now?”

Your grin widened as he rubbed the back of his neck, pink dusting his cheeks. “You’re not hungry?”

“I am, but,” he looked off to the side then back at you.

You took his hand and he stepped forward, leading you wordlessly back towards his bedroom, eyes glued in front of him. You tried not to giggle at how silly he looked, like an excited teenage boy hiding steering the body of a thirty something year old man.

You both stood in the middle of his dim bedroom for a second, waiting for the other to take the lead. He had lost his confidence once the bed was actually in sight. You walked over and pulled the covers back, gesturing for him to follow you.

He clumsily climbed in next to you, nearly elbowing you in the face. You almost giggled again, but didn’t want to embarrass him. He laid back on his back, like he had in the tent.

“Uh,”

“Can you actually come over here?”

You turned on your side, you back facing him and held out your hand. He took it and you pulled his arm over your middle while he adjusted himself so he was touching you, but not fully against you. Once he was settled, you scooted back so you were flush against him and pulled his hand tightly to your chest, intertwining your fingers.

“Is this okay?” you asked softly, a certain giddiness overcoming you at how small you felt completely surrounded by him.

His voice was breathy against your ear when he said, “Yeah, perfect,”

Part XX

Taglist: @mostlyunsure, @humongousdreamlandbear, @ichaichahatake, @mandy-yeager, @detectivestucks, @faces-ofvenus

#naruto #x reader #obito uchiha #x y/n #au #obito uchiha x reader #obito lives au #obito x reader #kakashi hatake

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ghostieagere · 1 year ago

Note

Request if the inspiration strikes, no pressure to fulfill if not <3

New bug finds out he gets very motion sick if on the busses for more then an hour or so, and ends up slipping small because he feels so icky and it scares him

He doesn't want to bother any of the pack because hes sacred about being broken because he's feeling so icky and doesn't know why

But one of the pack finds him and gives him lots of reassurance, cuddles, and tummy rubs to try and make him feel better -🌧️

absolutely !! sick aeon coming right up :) i hope this is what you were after, anons <3

cw: aeon feels nauseous, slight emeto warning (no vomit though), dew feeds aeon some food once he feels better. little aeon, caregivers swiss and dew

Something feels… off. In the beginning, Aeon didn’t know exactly what, but with every bump in the road, and with every corner the bus turns, he thinks he’s starting to get an idea.

It had begun once the ritual had ended, the regular queasy excitement building in his stomach during bows, only to disappear again once he’d gone backstage. But unlike every other time, once he’d settled himself onto the bus, after about an hour or so of travelling, the feeling came back. He’s usually asleep by this time, so worn out by the performance and subsequent excitement that he can’t help but drift off, but today something’s keeping him awake. Something in his stomach feels wrong, and as time goes on, the feeling grows and grows, spreading up through his throat and into his mouth.

As soon as he’d started feeling like this, he had retreated to his bunk, not wanting to annoy the pack with the weird feeling in his stomach, but the longer he stays awake, the more he wishes he’d stayed with them. If he tries to get up and wander over to them now, he thinks the gross feeling will spread even more and something bad will happen. He’s just not sure what.

He curls his arms more tightly around his favourite plushie, burrows further down into the blanket he’s wrapped around himself and whines softly. He’s annoyed at himself for not being able to figure out what’s happening to him; his head is getting progressively fuzzier as he feels worse and worse, and although he’s sure the brain fog is a familiar feeling, he doesn’t know what’s causing it. The bus hits a particularly large dip in the road and Aeon feels even worse than before. He has to swallow the funny burning liquid that appears in his mouth when the bus jolts.

He must be making some kind of noise in his discomfort because almost immediately, Swiss is pulling back the curtains surrounding Aeon’s bunk and kneeling beside him. “Hey, baby bat. What’s going on?”

“I– I don’ know,” he whines, but as soon as the words leave his mouth. “...Ough, ‘m liddle…?”

Swiss laughs softly. “You didn’t know, baby?”

Aeon shakes his head slowly and hugs his plushie closer to him; maybe if he holds them close enough, they’ll help him feel less weird.

“Hey, that’s okay. I know it’s hard to tell sometimes,” the multi ghoul reassures him. He reaches a hand out as he’s speaking and strokes Aeon’s hair off of his face. Swiss’ hands are cold against his forehead, it’s nice. “Do you know why you feel all little, bat?”

Aeon shakes his head again, and immediately lets out a whine. His stomach feels like it’s mixing everything up inside it and bubbling it up into his throat. He tries to move further down into his blanket cocoon, but while the weight of the blanket is comforting, it’s so hot laying underneath it and Aeon feels like he might just explode if he gets any warmer.

Swiss stops stroking Aeon’s hair and instead rests his hand on the little quintessence ghoul’s forehead. “Oh, baby, are you sick? Is that what this is?”

Swiss’ words seem to click everything into place. His foggy head and his overheating body, as well as his queasy stomach and that funny burning liquid that came up his throat when the bus jolted all make sense now. “F– fink so…” And, oh, he must really be small if he’s talking like that. He hadn’t even realised.

Swiss frowns down at him sympathetically, and leans down to press a kiss to his overheated forehead. “Where do you feel sick, bug?” When Aeon doesn’t answer because the bus has hit a really bumpy stretch of road and he’s sure that if he opens his mouth, something very bad will come out, Swiss tries again. “Is it your tummy, baby? Right here?” He pokes Aeon’s stomach very gently and Aeon gives him a small nod.

He can’t manage anything other than a tiny nod at the moment, he really doesn’t feel good. He rubs his plushie’s ear between his fingers to calm himself down; it’s a trick that Rain taught him to focus himself when everything feels like too much, and he’s happy that it seems to be working a little bit now as well.

“Okay.” Swiss smiles down at him gently. “Thank you for telling me, baby bat. You’re being so super duper brave right now, you know that?”

Aeon manages a tiny smile in return, still holding his plushie’s ear in his fingers. “I– I’m a… A b– brave ghoul!”

“Yes, you are, baby!” Swiss grins widely and gives Aeon a kiss on the cheek, nuzzling his nose into his face gently. Aeon smiles a bit wider, even when Swiss pulls back. “Now, bubba, I have a question for you, okay?” Aeon nods and Swiss continues. “I’m going to get you some things that will hopefully make you feel a bit better, but I need to know if you want me to stay with you and get someone else to get the things for you, or if you’re gonna be okay if I leave for a bit. What do you think, bug?”

Aeon tilts his head and considers his options. He doesn’t really want to be left alone, but he knows Swiss will be back before he can even register he’s gone. “Secon’ one. You t– tan go, Swissy.”

“Alright, baby. I’ll be back real soon, okay? You just stay here with your plushie, they’ll keep you nice and safe.” With a quick kiss to Aeon’s forehead Swiss is gone, but true to his word, he’s back almost before Aeon notices he’s gone, his arms full of things.

“Okie dokie, little bat.” Swiss tips the contents of his arms onto the floor beside Aeon’s bunk. “You ready to see what I have?”

Aeon nods, bringing his plushie up to his mouth to chew its ear as he tries to peer over the side of his bed from where he’s lying down.

“First things first…” Swiss begins, organising his big heap into smaller piles. “Let’s get you sat up, baby.”

Swiss helps him up into a sitting position, holding him up and letting him rest when his stomach overwhelms him every few seconds, and before he knows it, Aeon is sat up against some pillows a sick bag and a water bottle next to him, with a sippy cup clutched in his hands and a cold wash cloth pressed to his forehead by Swiss’ big hands.

“You feel any better now, bug?”

Aeon nods happily, taking a small sip from his cup��his favourite apple juice with some of Mountain’s special medicine mixed into it to make him feel all better, Swiss had told him. “Good an’ bedder, Swissy,” he smiles.

“Awh, I’m so glad, baby bat,” he says. “You need anything else?”

“Mmm,” Aeon considers. “Jus’ cuddles, p’ease?”

Swiss grins and assures him that of course he can have some cuddles as he climbs onto Aeon’s bunk and wraps his spare arm around him while keeping the other against Aeon’s forehead with the cloth. “This good?”

Aeon hums and nods. “Uh huh, ‘s good.” His stomach still doesn’t feel normal, but the medicine is slowly helping to calm it down. Maybe he won’t even need the sick bag; Swiss had said he only brought it just in case anyway, that hopefully Aeon wouldn’t need it once he’d had some medicine, and he’s right.

Swiss rests his head against Aeon’s and the little quintessence ghoul can feel him smiling against his scalp. “If you’re feeling better later on, bug, Dew said he was gonna make your favourite for dinner.”

Aeon’s mouth drops open. Dew never makes Aeon’s favourite.

“He’s going to bring it in in about half an hour, okay?” Swiss lowers his voice conspiratorially before continuing. “He even said he’d use your favourite bat bowl and fork, and maybe he’ll even give you some more special apple juice…”

Aeon didn’t think his mouth could get any wider, but somehow it does, and he has to look up at Swiss to make sure he’s telling the truth.

The multi ghoul chuckles at his shock. “It’s true, baby, I promise,” he assures him. “But that’s not for a while yet, little bat, and someone looks like they’re about to collapse from exhaustion. Being sick is very tiring, hmm?”

Aeon hadn’t even noticed his eyelids drooping, so caught up his excitement, but now that Swiss has pointed it out, the little quintessence ghoul can’t think about anything except his tired eyes and sore head. He nods slowly.

“How about we have a quick little nap then, bug? If we sleep for too long, Dew will be happy to heat your dinner back up, okay?”

Aeon nods again. “Uh huh,” he slurs. “Am s’eepy, Swissy…”

Swiss kisses the top of his head. “Such a sleepy little bubba, aren’t you, bug.” It’s not really a question, but Aeon nods anyway. “C’mon, little bat, snuggle up with me. And when you wake up, we can try and feed you some dinner, ‘kay?”

Swiss gives him another quick kiss—on his cheek this time—and Aeon nods his agreement. That sounds nice, and Swiss is so comfortable to snuggle with that Aeon can’t help his eyes from falling completely closed as the beginnings of a purr rumbles up from deep in Swiss’ chest.

He’s not sure if ends up falling asleep or not, but soon enough, his eyes crack open at the sound of Dew sliding the partition between the bunk area and the rest of the bus open and his soft footfalls as he makes his way over to Aeon’s bed.

“Hi, starlight,” he smiles. “How’s your tummy doing now?”

“Good!” He exclaims without thinking, but as he takes the time to think about how he’s feeling, he realises it’s true, he feels a lot better than he did earlier.

“Well, that’s very good to hear,” Dew begins, “because I’ve brought you something…” He shows Aeon the contents of the bowl in his hands—the little quintessence ghoul’s favourite bat bowl and fork as promised—and Aeon lets out a shriek of happiness at the sight of his favourite meal so loud that it jolts Swiss awake.

Dew laughs loudly at Swiss’ sleepy confusion as the fire ghoul climbs over the bed onto Aeon’s other side. Once Swiss registers what’s happening and that Aeon has another caregiver here to look after him, he flops back asleep, wrapping a protective arm around Aeon’s waist. Dew helps Aeon sit back up against the pillows behind him and helps him drink a sip of water from the bottle beside him to help wake him up enough to stomach his dinner. “Want me to help feed you, bubba?”

Aeon nods, hugging both his plushie and the water bottle tightly against his chest. “Am hung’y, Dewy.”

“Oh, I can imagine, starlight. You haven’t eaten anything since lunch!” As he speaks, Dew mixes the contents of the bowl around, cooling the warm food down enough for Aeon to tolerate without too many troubles. “C’mon, open up for me, bubba. Yeah, that’s it.” He smiles down at Aeon as he chews his food happily, giggling in delight when it doesn’t upset his stomach. “Not too hot?”

“No, ‘s good! Super yummy, t’ank you, Dewy,” he rocks back and forth happily as he swirls the taste of his comfort food around in his mouth, doing his best not to jostle the sleeping multi ghoul next to him.

“You’re welcome, Ae,” Dew smiles. “We’ll get you fed and then the three of us can go to sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, okay!”

“Perfect. Ready for your next bite?” Dew scoops another mouthful onto Aeon’s bat fork. “Open up, starlight.”

#in my head aeon's comfort food when he's little is warmed baked beans and sausages with the sausages cut up into little bite-sized pieces :)#i know i left it ambiguous in the fic but that's what was happening in my mind #aeon ghoul #phantom ghoul #swiss ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #regressed ghouls #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #ghostie writes #🌧️ anon

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76blades · 1 year ago

Text

I can no longer stay silent.

I always feel bad for venting out loud, whether it be publicly or to my Twitter circle (which I have been doing a lot lately, and I’m sorry if it’s been distressing (…my point exactly)). But things have not been ok, nor have shown any significant chances of getting better anytime soon. I know I’m gonna be beating myself up later for posting this, but I’m sick and tired and I can’t stay quiet. I’m desperate for change.

For those who don’t know, Winter’s family (and job) has been severely mentally and emotionally abusing her, and it’s not just because of her gender identity. They’ve threatened and harassed her over her showing any negative emotions, her body, her interests, the food she eats, you name it. Granted, it’s not my tale to tell, but it has been BAD as of late for her, and it definitely has affected me. I might be going through some similar stuff with my dad, but he’s nothing compared to them.

Speaking of, for those who don’t know about my dad, he’s a slightly better version of Winter’s parents; a well-intended asshole but still an asshole. He has caused me to question my sanity and safety several times, and he refuses to acknowledge my anxiety as anything serious, and believes it’s something I can easily control and/or an act I put on. He’s been trying to pull me into college even though I’ve told him several times that I don’t want to, and he’s told me several times that if I don’t follow his advice then I’m only gonna end up nowhere. He certainly doesn’t believe anything regarding Winter’s situation either, and views it all with rose-tinted glasses.

He also demands to know my entire schedule for the week, that I laugh at his jokes or smile when I don’t want to; and he even touches my shoulders and back without my consent, and he’ll get mad when I express my discomfort. I was dreading having to move back in with him because I knew this would all be happening, only for it to be so much worse. I don’t even feel comfortable recording when he’s home because I’m afraid of him yelling and/or making fun of me. And yet, it’s funny and sad how he’s an absolute saint compared to Winter’s family.

Winter and I have been breaking our backs trying to save up for a new home, but our jobs have been cruel to us on top of our families. We’re being overworked and underpaid, and a good chunk of our paychecks goes towards food and travel expenses. And while we’ve been trying our best to push our comms, we’re still a far way from freedom.

I don’t ever want to come off as a beggar for money, attention, etc., and I feel anxious whenever I boost my comms because of that, and yet I also feel like that’s exactly what I’m doing here. But I need to be transparent with you all about my and Winter’s situation. I am truly afraid that one of might truly snap, with the little remaining of our sanity vanishing in an instant. Tbh I feel like that person is more likely to be me than her.

Regardless, I’m unsure of what else to do right now other than to keep boosting commissions and whatnot (and I might make a Ko-Fi goal too, idk), but I want to keep finding affective (and healthy) ways to spread awareness of our situation and help bring us a few steps closer to where we want to be.

I know I’ve said that I feel like I’m waiting for a miracle that won’t come, but maybe you all could help us bring that miracle to life. Thank you all for taking time out of your day to read this and support us.

I will be attaching links to my comms and Ko-Fi, as well as Winter’s. If you have any questions or would like to consider commissioning us, feel free to DM or Email either of us.

TLDR: Winter and I are being abused. We're desperate to leave our perspective toxic environments, and we need some extra help.

My Commissions | My Ko-Fi | Winter's Commissions | Winter's Ko-Fi

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theamityelf · 18 hours ago

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any thoughts on how makoto’s yandere S/O would react to finding out that he’s been restricting food due to not feeling like he’s at an attractive weight? i’m asking with nagito, izuru, and mukuro in mind, but if there are additional/different characters that come to mind instead, i’d love hear what you think!

(I see that you sent this ask a second time, so for the record this is the first one! 😁 I was working on it in my drafts, lol.)

Ooh, interesting prompt. I'll do the specific ships you asked for first, then see about some others, lol!

As far as the premise itself, Makoto having body image issues could make a lot of sense, whether it's at Hope's Peak (lots of Olympic athletes and movie stars and supermodels) or at the Future Foundation (just imagining their propaganda images of him are super photoshopped to make his body look "more heroic"). Now, for the ships:

Komaegi

I feel like in this case Makoto would be distinctly ashamed of the reason for his bad relationship with food, since Nagito is so focused on principles and virtues. I think Makoto would somewhat expect Nagito to be disappointed by his "vanity".

Nagito's actual reaction depends so heavily on when this happens (pre-Tragedy or post-Tragedy, pre-NWP or post-NWP) and what flavor of yandere he is. Overall, the possibilities exist on a spectrum between Brutal Nagito, who will think it's helpful to reinforce Makoto's insecurities so he can stop fixating on them (or that's the rationalization he offers himself; what he's really doing is keeping Makoto down out of fear that once Makoto knows how amazing he is, he won't need or want him anymore) and Worshiper Nagito, who's just all praise.

So, the former is like, "I see. You're worried you don't look as good as they do? But of course you don't! You're a completely average, normal person. You can't be expected to compare to anyone in a world of Ultimates. Hey, cheer up. Think of it more like this: You don't need to compare to any of them, because no one is looking at you at all! Except me, of course. I think your average build is cute. There's no need to compare yourself to Ultimates; I like you for who you are."

And the latter is like, "Ah, I should have spoken up sooner. How thoughtless of me, to let you waste a second thinking anyone here holds a candle to you. I truly regret my negligence. I would have been singing your praises from the rooftops, had I known you suffered from even the briefest of doubts." And from there he just keeps showering Makoto in compliments about his appearance and personality (and some trace amounts of shade for everyone else) until Makoto goes from ashamed-embarrassed to flattered-embarrassed. And he will be doing this regularly from now on.

Kamuegi

This one's cool because Makoto's attempts to regulate how much he eats will directly grate against Izuru's attempts to feed him good food. It wouldn't take Izuru all that long to figure out Makoto's reservations, but instead of going the way of overwhelming praise like Nagito, he's just going to reinforce the behavior of eating by giving him tasty food and showing him affection when he eats it all (positive reinforcement– providing a positive stimulus to encourage a behavior) and by scolding, insulting, or threatening anyone who continues to feed into Makoto's body image issues (negative reinforcement– removing a negative stimulus to encourage a behavior).

The first part is self-explanatory. The second part is lowkey funny, because all someone has to do is be shirtless in Makoto's presence and have a flatter stomach or bigger muscles, and Izuru is immediately like, "Put those away. You look ridiculous." He's giving everybody else body image issues to make Makoto feel better. And if Future Foundation propaganda is causing Makoto's discomfort, Izuru will be bothering everyone about it until they get the art right. (They probably wouldn't trust him enough to let him make the propaganda himself, especially if we're treat the anime as canon.)

If and when Makoto starts to gain weight as a result of Izuru's treatment, Izuru makes sure that he never feels self-conscious about it.

Naekusaba

For this one, I'm imaging Junko playing a role. Like, maybe when Makoto skips meals or just is hungry in general Junko says that he looks better than usual, and she comments on it like he's gorging himself when he does eat a normal amount. And Mukuro knows what she's doing and eventually has to actually make the decision to push back.

I don't have too much more for that, but it's already a pretty big deal to have her speak out against what Junko's doing, so.

Once she takes that step, she's a more militant (and also clumsier) version of Izuru's negative reinforcement strategy. She doesn't have as precise an understanding of what things make Makoto feel bad, so she's not saying or doing anything to guys who happen to be shirtless around Makoto, but she'll hold a knife to someone's throat for saying the word "fat" in a completely normal way/context.

Also I imagine her as more submissive toward Makoto than Izuru is, so where Izuru would be like, "Eat some more," when Makoto is about to stop eating, Mukuro would be more like, "Is that...all you're eating?" But both result in Makoto picking up his utensils again.

Naezono

Bringing this up just to say that I think that, as a person in the entertainment industry, Sayaka has perhaps also at some point had a less-than-healthy relationship with food, and seeing her own struggle mirrored in Makoto (and vice versa, for him) might help them both kind of climb out of it. She's encouraging him to eat by pretty literally cheering him on, and by doing the same herself. The yandere element comes into play only if someone directly insults Makoto, in which case Sayaka will smile politely and very sweetly post to all her social media that the person called her fat. They'll be getting death threats and other cruel DM's for the rest of their lives. #[ThatPerson]IsOverParty

Naehiro

Similar deal with Chihiro. They're both about to tackle their body dysphoria. It's very sweet, very healing. And if someone ever insults Makoto, Chihiro's challenging them to a physical fight (because I really think the "I want to get stronger!" thing would come out of them in weird ways, for a while). Similar to Mukuro, Chihiro would be shy and awkward about encouraging Makoto to eat, but it would be effective regardless.

Naegiri/Naegami/Tonaegiri/Naegamigiri

Ngl, I feel like Kyoko and Byakuya would be kinda bad at handling this, but in a way I find funny.

Like, Kyoko would notice Makoto's eating habits just as a matter of course, and Byakuya would notice it in an "I took you to this expensive restaurant and you barely ate anything!" way.

And if/when Makoto opens up about his feelings, I feel like both of them would be un-equipped to engage with them in a sensitive way. If he says he's insecure about how he looks, they'd pretty much be like, "Why? That's stupid. Stop being stupid." Any hint of Makoto being insecure or unhappy makes them (I think Byakuya more so than Kyoko) kind of frustrated that they don't know how to alleviate that. They don't really know how to give a great compliment. They'll tell him he looks good, and they'll say or imply that they're attracted to him, but they're simply not speaking Nagito's language.

Yandere-wise, probably the best they can do is seize control of the images he sees. So, they'll smack a magazine right out of his hand, change the channel when he's watching a superhero movie, etc. And he'll be hearing a lot of "Eat." "Finish eating." "You're not done." "You're not getting up until you finish that."

#danganronpa #makoto naegi #komaegi #kamuegi #naekusaba #naezono #naegiri #naegami #tonaegiri #naegamigiri #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #mukuro ikusaba #junko enoshima #sayaka maizono #kyoko kirigiri #byakuya togami #yandere

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bestaez · 2 years ago

Text

Strangers (Birthday Drabble)

Series Masterlist

pairing: ot7 x reader

genre: yandere, horror/thriller

word count: 3k

warnings: unreliable narrator, depressive thoughts, mature themes, obsessive/possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, stalking, non-consensual touching.

summary: It’s been a few months since that fateful night where everything changed. You have been doing your best to heal and get acclimated to your new life at Eden Residence but when a surprise date arrives, you find yourself reevaluating your situation. Moving to the big city certainly wasn’t what you had pictured it to be.

The days you spent at Eden Residence had all blurred together and you weren’t even sure how much time had passed. You knew it had probably been months at this point, but after enough time went by you didn’t care to keep track. The calendar the boys had hung up on the wall had been stuck on September since you moved into your new room.

After that fateful night, the boys had moved you down to the basement. Their reasoning was it was big and safe enough while you were recovering from your injury but you knew they just preferred it because of its advanced door locks. Plus, you didn’t think you’d be able to make it up the stairs that led to the exit of the building. It was the perfect spot to hide you in.

Maybe it was just your trauma response to it all but you had to admit - this room was an upgrade from your last. You were honestly surprised it was part of the same building, they had clearly spent a lot of time renovating it. It had much more space and the boys had decorated as best they could to keep you comfortable. There was a decent-sized bed as well as a couch, table, and TV. The connected bathroom was tiny but it had its own shower which was all you cared about. You were even impressed to see a small kitchenette off to the side equipped with a sink, minifridge and microwave. You didn’t have to use it too often, as most of the time food would be brought down to you or on occasion they would bring you upstairs to eat with the whole group in the kitchen.

“YN~,” A voice sang, breaking you away from your thoughts as the door opened. You were still in bed, not caring to get up just yet. Namjoon, Jungkook, and Jimin all filed into the room as if they owned the place - which technically, they did. “Are you awake, sleeping beauty?”

Your silence and blank stare was all that met them, causing a few chuckles as they were quite used to your negative attitude especially in the mornings. Today, however, they seemed more adamant about getting your attention. Jungkook jumped onto the bed next to you, causing the mattress to bounce under you as you grunted in discomfort. For the most part, they seemed to respect your personal space but there were a few that still fought for your affection.

“Do you know what today is?” Namjoon asked, distracting you from the younger male who was currently throwing his arms around your figure from over the covers and snuggling close. You eyed the taller male from where he stood by the small table helping Jimin unload a bag of breakfast items.

“Should I?”

“Yes!” Jungkook laughed into your neck, causing the surrounding skin to heat and your heart to pick up a bit. You had, for the most part, gotten used to all the forced proximity but you couldn’t help your body’s natural reactions sometimes.

You glanced at Jungkook then back at the other two who were watching you with small smiles before giving them a shrug, not particularly feeling up for a guessing game.

“It’s your birthday!”

You blinked slowly, your mind taking a minute to process that revelation. It felt like a weird dream. How could it be your birthday already?

Before moving here, you had pictured what your first birthday would be like. Back then you were sure you would make lots of friends and that you would be thriving in your adult life in the city. Maybe Jihoon would have taken you out to a fancy restaurant or drinks with friends. Maybe you and Nayeon could have taken a relaxing beach trip. Was it silly that you still kind of wanted that?

Of course, you had never told the boys when your birthday was - or at least, you didn’t recall doing so. But you wouldn’t put it past them to figure that kind of information out. They probably saw it on your ID card or something, which you hadn’t seen since you had been moved to your new room. All of your personal items including your cell phone and laptop had been kept from you and you didn’t know if you would ever get them back. You wondered if your mother had called and you were scared to ask. For all you knew, you were dead to the world.

Jungkook quickly pulled you up and out of bed, walking you towards the en suite bathroom to get ready. Your ankle was still healing from the incident, which explained the small cast you had now adorned. In the beginning, the healing process had been rough. Your brain needed time to process everything that had occurred, so most of that period had been spent in-and-out of consciousness. The boys did their best to aid you through it, from what you could remember anyway - and the irony of the situation wasn’t lost on you at all. They were the ones who put you in this situation and there they were nursing you back to health.

Once you were finally more cognizant and ready to move again, they had awarded you with a pair of crutches to help with walking. A move that they soon after regretted once you started using the metal contraptions on them to keep them out of your personal space. You can still picture the shocked look on Hoseok’s face after he went to give you a hug and you whacked him in the arm with one of the poles. Your beloved crutches were soon confiscated and never returned, which honestly sucked but you still thought it was worth it. And now you didn’t even need them as you could put more pressure on that foot - while still treading lightly.

In your shocked state, you numbly went through the motions of waking up for the day. When you were more alert and refreshed-feeling, you came back out to see the table had been set with lots of tasty looking dishes. Your stomach suddenly felt so empty at the sight of it all and you cursed it for betraying you. It had been a battle getting yourself to eat in the first few weeks here, as you didn’t want to accept any food they had given you in a way of defiance. They had threatened force-feeding a few times but thankfully it didn’t get that far. Eventually, you decided it would be better to just keep your strength rather than to wither away.

“I hope you’re hungry,” Namjoon smiled, holding a hand out for you as he was the closest one to you. You ignored it and took a few steps forward, eyes trained on the table. He took it in stride and hovered next to you, smiling at you brightly as his hand shifted to rest on your lower back.

Once you were all seated, the boys took their time loading up your plate with different pastries and breakfast bites. You recognized the packaging from a cafe near your old job that you had stopped at a few times in your first few weeks here. Holding back an eye roll at the reminder that they were following you back then, you reached for a cheese danish and dug in.

The day had been filled with all your favorite activities. Well, their favorite activities to do with you. After breakfast, Jungkook brought you up to his room to play video games. Despite your lack of experience, you had to admit you were doing a little better at gaming. But you still weren’t on Jungkook’s level and that was clear in the way he seemed to go a little easy on you. Soon enough, Seokjin joined in and took the controller from you - claiming that he would help you beat Jungkook.

Eventually, Jimin came to the rescue and invited you to come do some painting in his room. It was a random and somewhat strange activity to do with him but you found it almost relaxing. He didn’t bother you too much with conversation, instead playing some calming music as you both worked on different canvases.

But, of course, your peaceful bubble had to burst when Taehyung barged in and insisted that it was his turn. His idea of fun was to watch a movie with you back in your room as you had the most comfortable bed and a big TV. You couldn’t argue with him and figured you could probably sneak a nap in there. Yoongi was already in the room when you both arrived, plating some snacks to share. You nibbled while Taehyung searched for a movie to watch, insisting on a rom-com despite your and Yoongi’s protests.

Dozing off at some point in the movie, you awoke to the feeling of someone shaking you awake. Your eyes peeled open to see Hoseok grinning at you.

“Hey, Birthday Girl,” He crooned, smoothing your mussed-up hair back from your face.

“What time is it?” You groaned, pulling away and stretching your muscles with a pop. Taehyung and Yoongi were nowhere to be found, and you wondered at what point they had left.

“Almost dinner time,” he answered, watching you with an adoring look in his eyes. “Wanna come help?”

Knowing it was more of a rhetorical question, you nodded and sat up. He held a hand out for you to take and led you up the stairs. But, instead of taking you to the kitchen like you had assumed, he continued in the direction of upstairs. Your heart stuttered at the thought of going back up there. You hadn’t been there since...

“What’s wrong?” Hoseok asked when he felt the pull from your sudden stop, his eyebrows furrowing as he took in your fearful expression.

“I- I thought, the kitchen… um-“ You swallowed nervously, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“Don’t you want to go upstairs?” He argued, the confusion on his face unwavering. You shook your head quickly, a shaky glance at the ominous dark hallway before you. Hoseok noticed this, taking in your glassy eyes before it suddenly dawned on him.

“Oh. You’re scared?” You met his eyes again, feeling unsure if you should confirm his thoughts in fear he might react harshly. “It’s okay. We won’t go in there again, I promise.”

You must not have looked convinced, because he swallowed and looked around for a bit before continuing, “It was supposed to be a surprise but I’ll just tell you. We’re having your birthday dinner on the rooftop!”

You raised your eyebrows at this, definitely not expecting that. You hadn’t been up on the roof since before everything hit the fan. To be honest, you hadn’t even thought about it in a while but you had to say you were surprised they were allowing you to go up there. It’s not like you could run away from there but there was still the risk of you being outside. Who knows what you would encounter?

“You’ll have to act like you didn’t see any of this coming.” Hoseok warns, pulling you in close again as he resumes his ascent up the stairs. Just as you’re facing the door that leads to the rooftop, he turns back and levels you with a look. “Behave.”

Before you could respond, he’s yanking the door open and pulling you out with him. What you see shocks you even more. The rooftop is decked out with beautiful decorations - purple metallic tablecloth with matching streamers and balloons. There’s little fairy lights strewn on the walls and a make-shift sign that says, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, YN!”

Your eyes flutter quickly as you take it all in, whisking away the stray tears that snuck out against your wishes. You didn’t mean to get emotional but you just couldn’t believe the lengths they had gone to make your day special. It wasn’t a good birthday by any means - you were being held captive here for goodness’s sake. But something about the way they took care of you, way more than the two people you were closest to had in the past few months had. It was hitting you hard that the only people that would do this for you were a bunch of love-crazed psychopaths.

Namjoon met you by the door and guided you over to the table, seating you where the younger boys were just finishing setting up. Jimin ruffled your hair as you sat down and Jungkook snuck a hug in from behind. You barely even reacted, too busy taking it all in and used to their antics by now.

The dinner was delicious as usual, with plenty of all your favorite meats and side dishes. You would never admit it out loud, but your roommates were great cooks. Well, most of them anyway. Namjoon seemed to be banned from the kitchen while Taehyung and Jungkook tried their absolute best to not be burdened with the task of cooking.

After the meal, the dishes were cleared away to make room for presents. You couldn’t hold in your surprise at seeing the wide array of boxes and bags, not expecting to see such a display. Judging by their excited faces, they clearly had been looking forward to spoiling you. You didn’t really know how to feel, never really being a fan of receiving gifts anyway. And now they were coming from your former-roommates-turned-captors? It was definitely an uncomfortable position.

The first bag was from Seokjin filled with clothes and you were impressed to find they actually fit your style, a mix of comfort and casual chic. The next few were a number of books from Namjoon, who was clearly trying to contain his excitement over sharing them with you. Jimin gave you some adult coloring books with an assortment of fancy-looking color pencils. Jungkook’s video game gift was actually quite useful as its main theme was fitness which he claimed would help give you a little physical therapy. Taehyung’s bag was a mix of all your favorite snacks and sweets. Hoseok gave you an ipod, which he had already loaded a vast library onto as well as a few of his own songs. You couldn’t help but feel a little touched by Yoongi’s gift, a leather-bound journal and set of pens.

The next box you found no one claimed, which only raised your suspicions as they all looked on curiously. Opening the lid slowly, you blinked in shock upon seeing the expensive-looking lace purple material laying on tissue paper. You immediately closed the box with a gasp, not allowing any of the boys to see its contents beforehand in hopes of preventing any further embarrassment. But, of course, they wouldn’t let it go - not if your dramatic reaction and red face said anything.

The box was quickly grasped by some of the older boys, whose confused frowns quickly morphed into a mix of understanding, amusement, and irritation. Yoongi shared a knowing look with Jimin that made the younger start to snicker, before quickly being silenced by Namjoon’s glare.

“One more gift! This one’s my favorite,” Taehyung exclaimed excitedly, bouncing slightly as he watched Jungkook pull out a small white box and place it in front of you. This one looked normal enough like perhaps jewelry or something. Holding in your sigh, you quickly opened it to see a shimmering gold bracelet laying there neatly. Your mouth parted and closed a few times, feeling struck dumb by what you saw.

This was Nayeon’s bracelet.

“Here, let me help you.” Yoongi offered when you had stared at it in silence for too long, plucking it out of the box and pulling your hand closer to give him better access.

A shiver ran down your back as he clasped the gold bracelet around your wrist, the cold metal giving your skin a shock. You could only gaze at it solemnly, finding it strange to see it on your arm instead of Nayeon’s. This was one of her favorite pieces - she had worn it as long as you had known her.

“It looks much prettier on you, darling.” Your eyes flicked up to meet Namjoon’s, his plump lips stretching into a smile that made your heart pound louder in your chest.

You didn’t know how to respond, lips pressed shut as your gaze fell back on the affronting jewelry. You almost thought you could get away with your silence until a finger tilted your head back up, thumb pressing into your chin forcefully.

“What do you say?” The dark look in Hoseok’s eyes was enough to make you shiver again, not liking the emptiness you saw in them.

“Thank you.” Your voice was wobbly but you hoped it would be enough to appease him and judging by the way their faces lit up, you believed it did.

You weren’t expecting them to suddenly bombard you with affection, kisses pressed to your cheeks and forehead as well as one to your lips that Taehyung snuck in. You blinked in surprise, feeling your cheeks heat up as Seokjin smacked the younger male’s head for being sneaky.

This whole day had been a whirlwind. You still couldn’t believe you were spending your birthday like this. And now looking down at your new gift, you felt such a heaviness in your heart. Before you could stop it, your eyes were welling up with emotions you couldn’t quite process. You tried to blink them away but it seems they didn’t go unnoticed.

“Oh, sweetheart. I know.” Seokjin pulled you in for a hug, his strong arm rubbing your back soothingly as if he wasn’t one of the causes for your pain.

“We love you, YN. Happy Birthday.”

A/N: hello!!!! i know it’s been a little while but i wanted to give you guys a little surprise drabble

also shoutout to the readers who helped give me inspo for this drabble! you all sent me such great ideas and i hope it came out how you pictured :)

taglist: @min-mingii @micheleinumaki @potaetopic @namjinieesope @mageprincess7 @minshookie29 @outro-kook @nikipedia07 @axniyx @kittykatfey @peaceout97 @kurodach @bex-tk1 @sa7kou @purpuravm @doublebunv @amylouisecullen @rossemayme @unsureofwhathappens @sleepy-time-dreamy @anushaackerman @shyloh-the-cornsnake @toughbook @urbanbts @carpioassists @millenniumspec @maliyachan @lovely247 @croctears @uarmyhore @shadoweepingscream @inlovewithallmusic @jcrml @xmochiloverx @whipwhoops

#yandere #yandere fanfic #yandere fanfiction #yandere bts #yandere bts x reader #yandere x reader #yandere kpop #yandere namjoon #yandere hoseok #yandere seokjin #yandere yoongi #yandere jimin #yandere taehyung #yandere jungkook #strangers from hell au

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