#i want to do things but my brain is full of brick walls!!!!!!! it's a labyrinth up in here!!!

[deepspacenova]

Zayne’s insomnia + Sylus being the perfect cure HCs

Zayne x Sylus (x Reader)

Reader is third wheeling in like, this whole list (but somehow I feel like many of us won’t mind). Inspired by the replies in this post with @leighsartworks216 where we spiraled about Zayne + Sylus… dynamics that made my brain go into full HC mode.

[I also have some HCs for Zayne x Caleb (x Reader) if you, too have the same need to be sandwiched between these men as I. ]

Sylus taking care of day to day Onychinus business when he starts to notice traces of Zayne around the house at night: a medical tome left open on the coffee table, a glass of ice water (but mostly ice) on the counter, one of Zayne's rings on the end table;

Pretty sure he understands, Sylus ventures out of his office more often. Each time he sees Zayne, he looks more exhausted but the one time Sylus raises a brow at him, he’s brushed off with an, "I'm fine.";

Sylus, of course, takes it as a challenge and makes it his mission to become the biggest tease. I mean, he's king of pushing the limits of your self control, so Zayne’s cinder block wall exterior is the ultimate challenge and he’s set on tearing that shit down brick by fucking brick;

It starts with touches. Brushing Zayne's hand, playfully squeezing the back of Zayne’s neck when he walk past him on a business call, using his evol to pull Zayne's books, phone, snacks out of his hands;

But then there's Sylus' words. And when it comes to those, Zayne's a goner. He's used to you being forward in your affections with him but he can't help but clear his throat at Sylus' double entendres and flirty quips, or feel heat in his abdomen when Sylus uses his drawling rasp;

"You’re always so tense, Z. Want me to loosen you up?";

"Those medical texts aren't doing anything to put you to sleep. Maybe you need something that penetrates deeper... into that overactive mind of yours.";

"I know you're the doctor, but maybe you need someone else to prescribe your... treatment tonight.";

It’s not long before it becomes a subconscious thing for Zayne — seeking out Sylus whenever he jolts awake at night. Zayne's very adamant that it’s because he doesn’t want to disturb you in bed though (sure baby boy);

But there's something about Sylus’ ruthless teasing and the mind games they play that has him tired out within an hour of even the worst of his nightmares;

And he'd never admit it out loud but sometimes, Zayne falls back asleep imagining the satisfaction he'd get from finally silencing the Onychinus leader's teasing by stuffing his cock down his throat;

Of course Sylus can tell when Zayne’s frustration and tension finally snaps. His new favorite thing is seeing Zayne try to resist him before he gives up and crawls back into bed;

Sylus knows exactly how to wear him down. Sometimes, it’s pulling the book from Zayne's hand with his evol, only to say "Careful, doctor. Grabbing it like that might get you into trouble,” when Zayne reaches over to snatch it back;

Sometimes he sneaks up behind Zayne, kissing the back of his neck while his Evol tugs Zayne's hips back against him;

Cut to Zayne, pants pulled down to his ankles, legs over Sylus's shoulder, getting the best fuckin blow job of his life. Sylus holding onto his thighs, refusing to let the doctor hesitate to squeeze around his head. Zayne's hand in Sylus's hair, pulling and tugging and trying to keep some semblance of control;

Zayne throwing his head back against the couch, breath choked in his throat, hand tight in Sylus's hair to keep his nose pressed to his stomach, but then Sylus pulls off of him. It's frustrating, it draws unexpected noises from him. And Sylus just smirks and says he promised to tire him out, kissing all up his hip and legs; (credit to @leighsartworks216 for these pieces of genius).

On particularly bad nights, Zayne goes to the balcony to catch his breath and some cold air to calm himself down. One night Sylus, effortlessly smug with the phone at his ear, at work, uses his evol to force Zayne to his knees. "Handle it today," he says to the person on the phone, "you know how I like to put men in their place.";

Speaking of, Sylus loooves edging Zayne. Leaving him a panting, writhing mess, pulling away just when Zayne’s hand tightens in his hair or his breath hitches in his throat. “I said I’d tire you out, but I never said I’d make it easy.”;

For a guy who doesn't say much, Zayne's vocal and very demanding in the heat of the moment - which wakes you up sometimes.

Knowing all about Sylus' scheme to tire Zayne out, you love sliding into bed hand pressed to his chest, "Doctor Zayne, your heart is racing, maybe we need to do some tests?" Sylus chuckles darkly, watching Zayne’s eyes flutter between both of you. The idea of you both teaming up to tire him out finally makes Zayne’s control slip;

The best time of day is twilight, a few hours before you and Zayne start the day, as Sylus is ending his. The three of you fall into bed, Zayne's body is exhausted and his mind is quiet. Barely keeping his eyes open when his fingers twine with yours. Sylus pulls you close from behind, his hand on top of both of yours. Sylus smirks at both of you, proud of himself. "The only nightmare you two are allowed to have is me."

[clockwayswrites]

@redghostbirdy Dick/Danny, skeleton shaped sugar cookies cw blood and stitches

Of course Dick still had to take his trash out after getting back from patrol. He was exhausted and wounded, but the trash had really gotten untenable and now had bio-waste in it. He had to take it down to the dumpster. It was almost a compulsion at that point to get it taken care of, or he knew he wouldn’t sleep well. As much as his family teased him about the state of his apartment he had his limits.

So, Dick tied up the bag, tugged it free of the bin, managed to slip on some shoes after a few attempts, and headed out into the hallway. And right into his neighbor.

His hot, brick wall of a neighbor that could totally bench press Dick in all the meanings of that phrase that Dick had totally been thinking a little too much about for the last few months.

“Whoa, careful there, darlin’,” Danny drawled, steadying Dick with large hands on both of Dick’s shoulders. “What are you doing wandering around out here at this time?”

“Um, trash?” Dick said ineloquently and raised the bag a little. The bag which apparently was leaking because his hand was wet.

Dick looked down at his hand and the red blood that coated it. Did his stitches pop?

“Ah, fuck,” Danny cussed and stepped back a little.

(Embarrassingly, Dick almost swayed after him.)

Danny lifted up the edge of his shirt, which may have killed what was left of Dick’s brain functions, to show blood flaked skin and—

“Is that a menstrual pad covering a wound?!”

Danny shrugged. “It’s just a little knife wound and Jess, the bouncer, hand one handy.”

“Oh my god. Just, come on, we’re getting that stitched up or at least bandaged properly,” Dick said. He set his bag of trash down by the door and grabbed Danny’s hand with his clean one to drag the bemused man into his apartment.

Luckily the first aid kit was still out on the little island counter and Dick all but pushed Danny onto one of the stools. Dick peeled the offending pad off maybe a little more harshly than was necessary and found a plastic bag to drop it into.

“I can’t believe that’s what you were using. And you call that little? How did you even get that? You’re the bartender! You’re supposed to be behind the bar.”

Danny just shrugged, an easy going and not at all repentant grin on his face. “I had to stop someone from being a creep.”

Dick just glared, mildly, at him as he washed his hands. He couldn’t really argue with that. He snapped on some gloves instead and set about cleaning Danny’s wound.

“I think this could use some stitches. I can do them, but I can also just get you patched up enough to go to urgent care if you’d feel more comfortable with that.”

“You can do them.”

“…yeah?” Dick asked just to be sure and glanced up at Danny.

Danny shrugged again. “I mean, you do have a very well stocked first aid kit on your counter already. Why was that?”

“Hush.”

Dick covered the area around the wound with a numbing agent while Danny chuckled at the non answer.

“If I promise to be a better patient than your students, do I get a cute bandage?”

Dick smiled despite himself as he threaded the needle. “All the cute bandages are at the gym. Stay still now.”

“Damn,” Danny said, and then waited until after Dick had started the stitches to ask, “What about a lollipop?”

“I might have some jelly beans still,” Dick said, grinning now. He kept his eyes on his work though, not wanting to give Danny uneven stitches.

Thankfully, Danny didn’t need that many and Dick was soon tying them off and taking a step back.

“No fun bandage, no lollipop,” Danny sighed, “what about a kiss to make it all better?”

Dick’s gaze shot up to look at Danny and his cheeky little smirk.

“Or did I miss read things completely?”

Dick rolled his eyes at Danny’s confidence, though it made him smile. “I think a kiss to make it better I can do.”

Danny’s smile turned into a full on grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Dick said and leaned in to press his lips to Danny’s.

He tasted like spice, lime, and sugar.

[justaaveragereader]

Double The Fun

Pairing: Bang Chan x Reader x Hongjoong

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Dom!Chan, Switch!Hongjoong, Sub!Reader, Double Penetration (2 Ds in 1 P), Spit, Both Chan and Hongjoong are Bisexual, Unprotected Sex, Cock Warming, Marking, Thigh Smacking, Clit Play, Creampie, If I Missed Anything…Lemme Know👀👀

A/N: Hello my lovelies, so this fic is apart of the lovely @whatudowhennooneseesyou 2024 Kinktober! This is my first time writing for a member that wasn’t in Ateez, I will make sure I add a link for the masterlist as the masterlist is a straight MASTERPIECE, I hope yall enjoy the fic, make sure to go check out the masterlist, and give the other writers lots of love! Now onto the fic👏!

Kinktober 2024 Masterlist

Fu-fuck!” You moan out, back completely pressed against Hongjoongs naked chest. Legs spread wide open for Bang Chan to get a full view of his friend being nestled inside your dripping cunt. With your feet hiked up on the small loveseat sofa, sweat dripping down your naked frame, and Hoongjoong practically being attached to your skin, you knew it was going to be a long night.

“She’s got such a dirty mouth.” Hongjoong says, voice muffled as he kisses the side of your neck, cool hand brushing the side of your body while you are trying to catch your breath on his lap.

“I know…you should see what she’s able to do with that dirty mouth.” Chan says, seated in the chair closest to the studio setup. You came to drop off lunch to both of them. One thing led to another, and now here you were, naked as the day you were born, panting like a bitch in heat in front of both men. Chan was a selfish man, but sharing you with Hongjoong had always been a secret fantasy of his. With his own hardened cocked bricked up against his thin sweatpants. You can’t help but gawk at the print, the material becoming damp with how much precum he had been leaking for the past 30 minutes.

“Please, please, please!” You begin to beg, head rolling back on Hongjoongs shoulder. Eyes blown wide with lust. You had been cockwarming Hongjoong for what felt like forever. Pussy dripping down Hongjoongs cock, wetting the material of the couch underneath you each time Hongjoong shifted his body, the top of his cock brushing right against your spongy spot.

“She’s really pretty when she begs.” Hongjoong says, fingers moving from your side to brush against your clit. The small sensation has you almost jumping out of his lap. A small chuckle leaves both men. As their laughter fills your ears your cunt flutters around Hongjoong making him cup your pussy. Your arousal immediately sticks to his cool palms. As Chans eyes flicker over your whining figure he can’t help but let his patience hold on by a thin thread. Standing from the chair you hear the plastic creak as he stands up. Your eyes try their best to focus on his figure that is coming close but with Hongjoong rubbing the heel of his palm against your clit, your brain begins to turn into mush. Letting his thumb rub against your lower lip, he watches you babble out nonsense with each rough rub Hongjoong gives you. Placing two fingers in your mouth, he watches as you immediately wrap your lips around them. Warm tongue darting out over his thick fingers.

“She’s so obedient.” Hongjoong says, leaving small marks amongst your neck. Nodding his head, he watches as you continue to suck on his fingers.

“Don’t let her fool you.” Bang Chan says, pulling his fingers from your mouth. Popping his own fingers in his mouth, savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

“She’s a brat when she wants to be.” Locking eyes with you, each word that flows from his mouth has you clenching down on Hongjoong letting out pathetic whimpers.

“Sh-shit!” Hongjoong moans out, pausing his attack on your neck. His hand grips your side tight, as your warm wet walls squeeze down on his throbbing cock. This was beginning to become torture for him.

“I don’t think I can wait any longer.” Hongjoong groans out, head falling into your neck. Warm breath leaving your body littered with goosebumps.

“Please, please..” you whimper out, pussy clenching down on Hongjoong once more. A wide smile spreads across Hongjoongs face.

“Come on Chan, don’t make us beg.” He said through a fake pout, bringing a hand up to squish your face between his fingers. Tugging down the fabric of his stained sweatpants he watches as your gaze lingers on him with each second he pulls down the fabric, mouth moistening you let out a muffled groan, face still being squished between Hongjoongs grip. With your lips in a tight pucker, drool begins to leak out of your mouth splashing coolly on your naked chest. Toes curling with excitement, as you feel Hongjoongs cock throb inside of you, he was just as excited as you were. Kissing the side of your neck, Hongjoong keeps his eyes on Chan. The atmosphere grows hotter by the second, your attraction to Hongjoong was no secret, Chan knew you had the hots for him, and while Chan was a selfish man when it came to you, him learning about your attraction for Hongjoong had made him curious as to what it would be like if he shared you just this once. Would it be a reoccurring thing? Or would it be something that was a one time only?

He thought his jealous side would’ve kicked in by the first kiss Hongjoong gave you, yet it did nothing of the sort. If anything it fueled his need to see your eyes fill with tears while your cunt stretched around Hongjoongs member. While you slid down Hongjoongs member you cried, and whined for Chan. Fueling the hunger he had for you, another man brought you pleasure but you were calling for him.

“Go on baby, touch him.” Hongjoong whispered in your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe. Gathering some of the spit in his hand, he watches as you aid in pulling Chans sweatpants down. Your hand immediately touches his leaking cock. You watch as it bobs against his lower stomach, a thick vein running along the side of it, while the tip is cherry red, oozing in precum. While you stroke one side of his cock, Hongjoong cups your cunt with his spit filled hand, the cool saliva making you let out a breathy moan, with your eyes locked on Chan, each stroke you give his cock, the more precum drips down his tip, pearly white streams leaking more and more by the second. The tension in the room grows heavier, while Chans dark stare is igniting your body, tiny flames prickling at your skin, Hongjoongs hands venture across your body, tweaking you in a way you never knew you could tick. As your thumb rolls over the tip of his leaking cock, his head rolls back, a breathy moan leaving his pretty lips. As Hongjoong whispers nothing but dirty words in your ear, Chans cock jumps at each syllable that leaves Hongjoongs lips. Snapping his head forward, he grabs your throat, causing you to let out a loud mewl, Hongjoongs eyes grow even darker watching the scene in front of him, his own member throbbing hard in your warm, wet, slippery walls. Leaning back, so you are perched right on his lap, his back brushes against the soft pillows. With his hands firmly on your hips, he pushes you back slightly, the further you lean back, the more firm Chans grip grows.

“You going to be a good girl and take us both?” Hongjoong whispers out, watching as your fleeing hand slowly moves off of Chans cock, hand shiny with his pre cum. Your eyes bore up at Chan, clenching on Hongjoongs cock, your eyes flutter slightly as your cool back feels Hongjoongs warm chest. This was truly a wet dream, you had dreamed about this multiple times, you crying over Chans cock, while Hongjoong strokes your insides. Nodding your head thoughtlessly, Chan smacks the meat of your thigh, eyes growing just as dark as Hongjoongs.

”You know that’s not how you reply, do it properly.” A small whine leaves your throat, and his thumb comes to rub the center of your throat, where Hongjoongs dick had been nestled in earlier. With a pathetic whine you verbally respond to Hongjoong, turning your head slightly to the side..

“Yes, I’m going to be a good girl, I want you both..” you say quietly. If you weren’t sandwiched between both men you doubt anyone would’ve been able to hear you as your voice had been so small when responding.

As you get comfy against Hongjoong, you perch your foot on one of his knees while the other is set against Chans strong bare thigh. Your pretty pink toes contrast against both men’s skin. Gripping your ankle, Chan leans in closer, holding his breath slightly, the excitement chewing him up like he was a piece of gum. As Hongjoong nestled into the cushions further, trying to put as much space between both of them so Chan had room to freely move. His leaking tip rubs between your folds, you moan quietly. The feeling of finally being able to get what you had been dreaming of fuels the lust in the small area, skin littering with goosebumps. Gripping the meat of his other thigh, your breathing picks up. Eyes fluttering with each stroke between your puffy lips, tip catching on your clit with each swipe through your slick folds, gripping the base of his cock, he looks up at you and Hongjoong through hooded eyes. Taking in both of your forms, Hongjoong looks beyond fucked out, the sweat beads that are pooling against his temples, and you who looks like she just ran a marathon.

With a firm grip on the base of his member, he swipes through your folds once more, before poking his tip at your already stuffed hole. Your body immediately goes lax, you had been waiting for this exact moment. You try your best to relax your cunt, as it’s throbbing with excitement with each slow inch he gives you, your body grows hotter against Hongjoongs. Sweat littering your back, making you stick to the man underneath you.

“Fu-Fu-Fuck..” Chan whispers, while trying his best not to slam into you, with each inch he enters you with, he pulls back out adding another inch forward. His eyes dance back and forth between your face and Hongjoongs who looks just as spent. As your hand grips Chans thigh a bit tighter, as he continues to enter you, the loud squelching noise fills the quiet studio. Feeling the warm arousal drip down onto his own bare thighs, Hongjoong lets out a small whimper. Hand gripping the cushions of the loveseat tighter, the cross between your warm walls, and Chans warm, stiff cock was almost too much for him to bare. His own toes clenching with each stroke Chan gives, with a stuttered breath he lets his head fall lax against the edge of the couch. Bottoming out into you slowly, Chans body towers over both your and Hongjoongs frame. Taking a couple seconds to gather his thoughts, he continues towering over the both of you, cock snug against Hongjoongs, looking down he watches as your pussy swallows the both of them while bubbling clear strings of arousal.

“I’m not going to last long at all.” Hongjoong says through deep breaths trying his best to hold onto his orgasm. Not wanting to blow his load so soon, as he continued to pant, your pussy flutters around both of them, making both men let out a small whine. Nodding his head slightly, Chans heavy pants fill both of your ears. Pulling his hips back slightly, Hongjoong followed along, not fully pulling out before stroking back in, making sure to deliver deep, powerful thrusts to you. After the initial sting of both of them inside you subsided, you couldn’t help but let out loud moans. Toes curling with each precise thrust from each man that was sandwiching you. Hongjoong and Chan were a tight fit, yet it only made things more pleasurable for each person. While both men were nested in your wet cunt, the warmth from each of their cocks brushed against one another, heightening the experience. Your back arches off of Hongjoongs moist chest, eyes crossing before rolling into the back of your skull. You had been cockwarming Hongjoong for quite a while, your body was already pent up, full of a fueling orgasm. As you bite your lip, your toes clench against each man’s thigh. Squeezing your eyes shut, taking in each stroke they deliver to your cunt. Hiking his hips a bit extra to aim for that spongy spot inside of you, it becomes a race between both men to see who can stimulate that spot just enough to push you over the edge. As tears fill your eyes, your head tilts back against Hongjoongs shoulder, with each stroke of their cock, the sopping wet noises of your cunt fill the small studio.

“Sh-she’s leaking onto my thighs.” Hongjoong says through scattered breaths, Chan pulls back slightly continuing to deliver deep, precise blows to your cunt. His pupils blow watching as your cunt drools down to Hongjoongs thighs, pooling into the crevice of the couch. Letting out a feral groan, he hunches his body over both of yours. His muscular form, towering over the both of you, before catching your lips in a kiss, gripping your hip, his fingers brush over Hongjoongs stomach, before giving you one harsh thrust, making you and Hongjoong moan loudly, as Chan begins to speed up his thrust, his warm cock dragging against Hongjoong whose hips stutter, as he’s nearing the edge while your cunt vice grips onto both of them, he grips the back of your head, your tongues fighting one another, as he continues to hammer into you, your jaw falls lax. Small pathetic moans leave your body, as Hongjoong begins to whine out to Chan that he is close. Eyes squeezing shut you, bite Chans bottom lip, whimpering into his mouth, pulling away from you he grips the back of Hongjoongs head, bringing him in for a messy kiss. Letting out a shocked squeak, Hongjoongs hand comes up to strum at your clit, as Chan pulls back slightly nipping at Hongjoongs bottom lip before sticking his tongue down his throat once more, the intense scene of both men making out right by your face, with the mixture of Hongjoong strumming at your clit like he was playing the harp tosses you into your heated orgasm. Thighs shaking as your toes clenched tightly on both of their meaty thighs. Your cunt squeezes them tightly as you are going through the motions of your orgasm, Hongjoong tosses his head back from the steamy kiss him and Chan shared before letting out a loud groan, jerking his hips sloppy, he announces in a whiny tone that he’s cumming as well. Quickly pulling his cock out, Chan pumps his own, watching the scene unfold in front of him. Mouth dropping into a large O as your eyes are screwed shut letting out a high pitched whine, shooting his load all over your spent cunt. He falls forward even more, his chest weighing down on you, as Hongjoongs thumb comes to a slow stop. You let out a whine at the feeling of Chans warm cum dripping down to your hole, swirling with Hongjoongs cum that’s now leaking out of you. Lifting you slightly, Hongjoong pulls his cock out, feeling the warmth of both of their cum dripping out of you and onto his own thighs he lets out a happy sigh. With a deep smile on his face, he sucks his teeth before tapping the side of your body. Legs dangling on top of his legs, while Chan is resting the majority of his body weight on you both.

“So…who's going to clean that up?” Hongjoong asks, practically purring into your ear. As Chan shifts slightly, he runs two of his fingers through your folds, gathering the mixture of all the cum that was leaking from your body, your body almost doubling over at the feeling of over stimulation. He brings his fingers to your mouth, popping them onto your tongue, letting out a satisfied hum. He pushes his body up with one arm, watching as you suckle the cum off of his fingers. While your eyes dance between both men, eyes huge and doe like. Chan and Hongjoong let devious smiles dance on their faces.

“She will of course.”

[lu-dao-writes]

The Sound Of Your Voice (Geo Oogami)

Warning(s): Geo being emotionally constipated, gn!reader, can be read as platonic or romantic.

A/N: Geo has taken over my brain and it’s all thanks to @vibelladonna lol. Seriously, I love how she writes Geo, and it’s hilarious how his little gag game came out yesterday after I finished writing this. This is also me trying to see if I can write him well enough. Anyways, enjoy! REMEMBER THAT THIS GAME IS 18+ ONLY. RESPECT THE CREATOR’S WISHES.

That tell-tale ringtone cuts through the calming silence Geo was basking in, those aquamarine eyes slowly sliding open and a rush of air surging out from his nostrils.

Geo knows fully well who it is that was calling him, and he knows that his two hour meditation session is now promptly over with. He’s in no hurry to get his phone, knowing that if he does miss it, you’ll just call him back anyways.

“Hey, Geo!” comes your exuberant voice and energy slamming into him with full force.

“What is it now?” he asks flatly, beginning to clean up his setup as you begin to describe every little big and small detail about your day.

“Classes were so boring and the day was so long!” you whine.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yep. I was also given two projects that are both due next week! Ugh, I swear these professors have it out for us!”

“You can say that again,” Geo mutters, prepping the tea kettle for his after meditation tea.

“We missed you today at lunch, by the way. Oh! You missed Britt scaring the absolute shit outta Deryl! Poor guy’s soda shot straight outta his nose!”

“Gross,” he mutters with a barely there chuckle.

“Yeah, pretty gross,” you snicker. “But also hilarious. Just disappointed it wasn’t captured on video for memories.”

“Wouldn’t want to see it anyways.”

The phone call goes well into the late evening with Geo still willing to entertain you, even though he had many other productive things he could be doing. Your conversation drifted from events on campus to other topics that appeared in that head of yours.

Somehow you managed to even rope him into watching some silly drama show you were currently obsessed over.

Geo isn’t one to do phone calls; it’s just not his thing, and he doesn’t ever like wasting his precious time or breath on useless things. But he makes an exception for you because he’s found that he oddly… Enjoys it.

Not that he’d admit that, or venture into why he does. Hell no.

Geo tells himself it’s because he’s bored and he tolerates you, or that you pitifully couldn’t find anyone else to hang out with and used him as a last resort.

He shouldn’t care.

He doesn’t care.

“Why do you constantly call me?” he asks bluntly, his words cutting through your ramblings.

You sputter and Geo finds himself waiting without a word, his patience slowly burning away like a candle wick.

“I… Well…!”

“Well, what?” he asks, his tone sharper than he wanted it.

You then sigh and Geo listens as you swallow down the liquid left in your can from your beverage of choice. “I just like the sound of your voice,” is your answer. It’s genuine with only a hint of vulnerability. “And of course I just like talking to you.”

Geo, to his embarrassment, doesn’t know how to respond, as if his train of thought ran into a brick wall and shattered into millions of pieces.

“I know you’re pretty unsociable,” you start with a tease, and his lips pucker into a small pout, eyes narrowed into a mostly harmless glare. “But I’m surprised you’re even indulging me with this. I thought you’d just ignore my calls.”

His Adam’s apple bobs slowly, his swallow slightly audible. “I’m bored and I tolerate you and your nonsense,” he finally replies, cool as a cucumber.

Geo hears you giggle and the urge to scowl and bitch at you begins to rise.

“Alright, Geo,” you continue to chuckle. “You down for one more episode?”

He sighs with faux annoyance, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against his pillows. “I guess…”

“Yes!!” you cheer, and Geo can’t stop his lips from twitching at your excitement.

decor credits to:@/dragonscale-lunaris, velaazuretail, necroangelz

[noorpersona]

Hiii!!!! I cant tell you how much I absolutely love your writings! I was wondering if you could do a part two for managerial duties for Inarizaki!! Maybe where the manager has serious bruising and the team finds out... and theyre genuinely worried! Id be cute if Atsumu would apologize too!! But you dont have to! Hehe, thank you for making my day! I appreciate your writings so much!

YES I LOVE THAT IDEA! And you've made my day with your kind words <33 thank you so much for reading!! Here we go :D --

You had expected some bruising.

What you hadn't expected was for your forearms to turn into a full-blown patchwork of dark purple and deep red, an angry mess of tender skin that ached every time you so much as brushed against something. It had started subtly enough—just a faint soreness the day after the bet. But by the time midweek rolled around, it was impossible to ignore. Even writing with a pen sent sharp pangs up your arms, and carrying the team’s water bottles felt like lifting bricks.

Which is why, in a moment of sheer desperation, you’d dug through your old volleyball gear and fished out your compression sleeves. They weren’t a fix, but they helped stabilize your arms and dull the constant ache, allowing you to function without wincing every time you existed. The compression kept the swelling down, made the bruises feel less noticeable, and at least provided a thin barrier between your damaged skin and the outside world.

You hadn’t really thought much of them beyond that.

Until you pulled off your jacket in the middle of practice and heard the gym fall silent.

The first thing you noticed was that every single pair of eyes had locked onto your arms. It took you a second to realize why—black compression sleeves, pulled taut over your forearms, standing out starkly against your skin.

"Uh…" you started, blinking as the weight of their attention settled on you.

"What’s with the sleeves?" Aran asked first, brows furrowed. "Didn’t know you wore those."

Your brain short-circuited. "Oh. Um. They’re just… comfortable."

"Comfortable?" Osamu repeated skeptically. "Since when do ya need sleeves to be comfortable?"

Suna, who had been lazily leaning against the wall, suddenly pushed off from his spot and started toward you. "They look kinda tight." Without hesitation, he reached out, fingers brushing over the fabric. "Lemme see."

Atsumu, who had been drinking from his water bottle, glanced over and smirked. "Damn, manager, if ya wanted to show off yer arms, ya could’ve just—"

Before he could finish, Osamu smacked the back of his head hard enough to make him stumble. "Read the damn room, ‘Tsumu."

"Ow! What the hell?!" Atsumu grumbled, rubbing the spot Osamu had hit.

The moment Suna applied even the slightest pressure, a sharp, searing pain shot through your arm, and you yelped, whipping your hand to your chest as if you’d been burned. "Shit!" you hissed through clenched teeth, eyes squeezing shut as the sting radiated up your arm.

The reaction was instant.

"What the hell was that?" Osamu frowned, his teasing dropping immediately.

"What’s goin’ on?" Ginjima asked, concern lacing his voice.

Atsumu, still rubbing his head, now had his attention completely on you. "What'd you scream like that for?"

"I-It’s nothing," you stammered, holding your arm protectively. "Just—Suna caught me off guard."

"Bullshit," Suna drawled, eyes narrowing. "Take ‘em off."

"No! I mean, really, it’s not a big deal—"

"Take. Them. Off." Kita’s voice cut through the chatter, calm but final.

You hesitated. His gaze didn’t waver. And you knew, knew, there was no getting out of this. With a resigned sigh, you slowly rolled down the sleeve, flinching slightly as the pressure eased off your skin.

A collective gasp rippled through the team.

"Dude…" Osamu muttered, voice even quieter than usual.

Even Suna, usually unfazed by everything, looked taken aback. "Holy shit."

Ginjima let out a low whistle. "That’s gotta hurt."

The bruises looked worse under the gym lights, the deep purples and reds blending into a mess of tender skin, mottled and swollen in some places. It was bad. You could feel how bad it looked, just from their expressions alone.

Atsumu visibly paled. "That…" He swallowed thickly. "That’s from me?"

Kita exhaled slowly, his posture rigid. "You should have said something earlier."

"It’s fine," you tried. "I asked for it. I knew what I was doing."

"That’s not the point," he said, voice eerily even. "You let it get this bad and didn’t bother telling anyone? How exactly is that taking care of yourself?"

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because, honestly? He had a point.

"Go home," he ordered, folding his arms. "You’re done for the day. And don’t come back until that heals up."

"What? No, I’m fine—"

"No, you’re not." Aran frowned. "That looks painful as hell."

"I can still help—"

Kita said your name like a father would, the tone alone made it clear there would be no arguing. "Go. Home."

You huffed, crossing your arms—then immediately regretted it when pain flared up again. Scowling, you turned on your heel, grabbing your things and storming toward the clubroom.

The moment you stepped inside and shut the door, you let out a long breath, flopping against the lockers. Your arms throbbed. Maybe they were right. Maybe you should take it easy.

You had just started gathering your things when the door cracked open.

"Oi."

You turned, only to find Atsumu standing awkwardly in the doorway, eyes flickering between you and the floor. He looked… unsettled. Which, for him, was weird.

"Uh. Hey?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He shifted his weight. Fidgeted.

You squinted. "Are you… okay?"

He exhaled sharply, rubbing the back of his neck. "I—uh. Shit. Look, I didn’t—ya know—mean to…" He gestured vaguely at your arms, as if that explained everything. "I wasn’t tryna actually hurt ya."

You blinked. "Atsumu. I asked for this."

"Yeah, but—" He groaned, dragging a hand down his face. "Ya look like ya got run over."

You let out a short laugh. "Well, your serves do feel like getting hit by a truck."

Atsumu winced. "Shit."

For a moment, he was quiet. Then, after what seemed like an eternity, he muttered, "I’m sorry."

It was quiet. Stiff. A little clumsy.

But genuine.

You raised an eyebrow. "Wow. Never thought I’d hear you apologize."

He scowled. "Don’t make it weird."

You smiled, shaking your head. "It’s fine. Really. I’ll be okay."

Atsumu eyed you, lips pressing into a thin line. "Yeah. Just… don’t be dumb about it next time."

Then, after a brief pause, he exhaled sharply. "You know you could've just told me you played."

You snorted. "Yeah, right. Where’s the fun in that?"

Atsumu groaned. "Yer impossible."

You grinned. "And yet, you all keep me around."

With an exasperated sigh, he turned on his heel, muttering something about stubborn idiots as he left.

You exhaled, shaking your head fondly.

They were all idiots. Loud, nosy, exasperating idiots. But maybe, just maybe, they were your idiots. --

The next morning, you woke up feeling slightly better, though the soreness in your arms still lingered like a dull throb. The bruises were darkening, but at least the swelling had gone down. You figured that maybe—maybe—you could get away with showing up at morning practice. If you just sat on the sidelines, surely Kita wouldn’t make a big deal out of it… right?

You stretched, rolling your shoulders, before heading to the door to grab your shoes. But the moment you opened it, you froze.

Sitting right outside was a neatly arranged little basket. Ice packs, your favorite snacks, a tube of aloe vera gel—and a folded note resting on top.

Your stomach twisted as you picked it up, already knowing exactly who it was from. Unfolding the paper, your eyes skimmed over Kita’s neat handwriting.

Rest. I meant it.

Take care of yourself first. We’ll be fine until you’re back.

P.S. Don’t make me come over there.

You sighed, rubbing a hand down your face before looking back down at the basket. It was thoughtful. It was so Kita. You let out a quiet chuckle, shaking your head before stepping back inside and closing the door behind you.

Guess morning practice would have to wait.

[manicmanuscription]

I Got You Love

Pairing: Rhysand x Reader

Summary: You suddenly have intense flashbacks and the only thing to help calm you down is your mate, Rhysand.

Word Count: 1544

Warnings/Tags: PTSD, mentions of torture (only vaguely described), panic attacks, fluff.

acotar masterlist | main masterlist

divider by @seradika-graphics

Today was a good day.

Today was supposed to be a good day. 

The soft summer sun had the  beautiful carved roads of Velaris glistening, bricks shining with a renewed vigor. Flowers hung from lampposts or sat in windows and it was perfect. 

I didn’t know when it became too much. When the light and soothing chatter from pedestrians became a jackhammer in my skull. 

When the warmth suddenly became blistering, my clothes started sticking to my skin and soon I was suffocating. Too much, too much, too. much.

Everything was too bright and blinding. I stumbled in people’s paths in my desperate attempt to escape the world around me. Everything in my instincts told me to run as my mind was harshly thrust into dark memories. 

The kind and smiling faces of my people morphed into those of my old tormentors. Children giggling turned into a dark laughter as my skin was split open with a harsh edge of a dirty blade as they had tortured me. The bindings that held me three hundred years ago felt fresh on my skin, the phantom pain intensifying as if it were merely moments ago. My feet were pounding against the stone. My mind is screaming at me to go, to get out. I needed to find a safe place, to escape this feeling of terror that had etched itself into my very soul. 

Go, go.  My mind screamed GO! before they caught me, before this feeling could somehow intertwine further into my heart than it already had. Broken bones and my own shattered screams echoed in my ears and I couldn’t. fucking. breathe. 

I could barely hear Rhysand’s comforting voice in my mind, barely noticed his tug on our mating bond over the sound of my trauma dragging my back in it’s terrifying trenches. Barely even noticed when he gripped me by the forearms and winnowed us to our shared bedroom. 

All I could see was the door and I ran towards it, the knob wouldn’t open and I spiraled even worse. Gods I was stuck again- 

I collapsed to the floor, pressing my back against the wall as I sobbed, my broken breathing the only sound in the room. My mate was kneeling in front of me, his hands hovering above my knees as if he wanted to touch me but wouldn’t as if he knew my overloaded system wouldn’t be able to handle it right now. 

Rhys whispered my name softly, trying to break me out of my hysteria. I was starting to get light headed from the lack of oxygen, black dots dancing in my vision as ragged gasps turned into full on hyperventilating. Rhys said my name again,

I think this time in my mind, pushing gently on my walls without being overbearing and making my flashbacks worse but it didn't break me out of my trance. I couldn’t fucking breathe. I was here, yet not. Voices all overlapping and drowning out everything else. 

Memories were pushing to the forefront of my mind and my entire body was shaking. 

Rhysand had never been more terrified, he hadn’t seen you like this in years and he had already tried all your practiced and safe response’s to these episodes so he could hopefully calm you down but nothing was working. So he grabbed hold of your mind firmly, he would never usually do this but this was an extreme situation, the last card he had to play.

Those dark tendrils wrapped around your traumatic memories and pulled them away, he willed your brain to make your breaths come in even waves instead of vengeful gasps, willed your body to stop shaking and replaced the panic with a feeling of safety. He curled himself around your mind, muting everything except for the familiar comfort of the mating bond, throwing love down it as his glittering magic pulsed around you. “Breathe.” He whispered softly, placing a hand over your heart. “Just breathe I’m here love, you’re ok.”

I did exactly that, deep breath’s in and out as my body finally started to relax with each inhale and exhale. I held him extremely tight and enjoyed the way his scent calmed me down.

There was nothing in this moment except his dark magic that sparkled exactly like the night sky seeping into every corner of the room. his arms wrapped around me, holding me close and just gave me a damned moment of reprieve. 

I don’t know how long I stayed like that in the quiet comfort of my mate. I hadn’t had an episode like this in a hundred years. Rhys was always the one to calm me down, always knowing exactly what I needed to feel safe.  Sometimes I hated touch, sometimes I needed it. Sometimes I needed him close and other times I needed him far, yet he was always there. 

Soon guilt settled in as my mind cleared, pulling away from that primal place of flight or fight.

He was supposed to be in a meeting with some of his high-ranking merchants and this wasn’t the first time he’d dropped everything to help me. I sniffled into his shoulder as my stomach twisted. Gods I was so overdramatic and clingy and-

“Stop it.” Rhys whispered against my skin. A wave of reassurance and love down his side of the bond spread through my chest, making me feel all warm and fuzzy. 

“I’m sorry.” I croaked out, my voice raspy from crying. “That word is banned if you remember.” His voice was light but I still felt the sincerity in his words. “I just, I don’t know what triggered it and..I mean..I-“ 

“Sshh.” My mate murmured. Leaning back slightly so he could look me in the eyes. I gripped on even tighter to his shirt at the almost loss of contact. He took my face in his large hands and titled my head so my gaze met his. 

“You do this little spiral every time after intense PTSD moments, I am not helping you out of obligation, I am helping you because I care about you, because I love you. Because you’re my mate, my wife, you are everything to me and you deserve to feel safe and happy. You deserve the world and being there for you is an honor, it is a gift and it helps me feel secure, knowing that I can care for you, protect you. I love you.” I didn’t miss the way his voice slightly wavered on the word protect.

Even though those males had taken me long before I met him I knew he still wanted to rip them apart all over again. His gaze was so intense and it had a familiar heat trickling down my spine. I could feel the truth in his words, see the conviction in his eyes and I slowly let go of the guilt that had tried to overtake me.

“I love you too.” I sighed. “I just..I hadn’t had an episode in so long, I mean that…event…was fucking forever ago and I -“ My voice cracked slightly and I took a shuddering inhale as the urge to cry hit me again tenfold when I started speaking. “I just thought I was healed, it was over, I’d never have to be so -broken- again.” 

Rhysand tilted my head so our foreheads were touching. “You have healed, you have done so much work and I’m so so proud of you baby, look at where you are now from yesterday. From last week? From two hundred years ago? You can’t put a timeline on healing, there are good days and bad days and it is important you have the support, especially for bad days and I’ll always be here. You’re not broken, you can do this. You’re safe baby. You’ll be ok, it'll never happen again.” 

I started crying again at his words, it soothes something inside of my roughened heart and he wiped my tears away with the pad of his thumbs. “You’re perfect just as you are.” 

I reached up and gently pressed my lips against his and he immediately opened up to me, letting me lead the kiss, feel in control and I sighed happily against him. I needed the soft intimacy. It was a balm to my soul and after a few seconds I laid my head on his shoulder once again. I was too tired for words but I pushed my needs to him down the bond and he responded immediately, lifting me up in his strong arms and tucking me in the bed treating me with such care I thought I was going to cry again. 

He curled himself around me and I laid my head across his muscled chest, listening to his strong heartbeat as those fingers drew comforting circles onto my shoulder. The panic had left my body and although I felt so tired from the whole exchange, my body shutting down as all the adrenline finally left and I could relax. I didn't feel as hollow as I usually did after these moments. 

No, I felt completely loved and cared for. Soon his rhythmic touch had me drifting off to sleep. 

I was loved, I was cherished for, I was safe.

[calebslittlecrow]

Manifested A New Monitor In Under 24 Hours

Apparently success stories are motivational or shit, so here is one for y'all. Not really my thing to share success stories normally, but this one is so dumb and fast maybe it helps someone. Take it or leave it basically ┐( ˘ ､ ˘ )┌ Anyway, context: I do digital art. Like a lot, a metric fuckton of drawing anime men. And I have been using the same monitor since the beginning of my art journey. I love that crusty old bastard, we have been through a lot. But like most good things lately it has been going downhill. Not in a "look how quirky" - kind of way. More like the "I may implode mid-project and flash seizure lights at you" - kind of way. And the power button stopped working, so it won't even turn off. Do I have other monitors? Yes. Are they decent for digital art? Hahaha... no. Yeah, I could use one of them in case my monitor suddenly flatlines while I'm trying to merge some layers or play Genshin or Dead By Daylight or whatever. But honestly? I rather wrestle my old monitor out of the afterlife than deal with whatever piss-yellow color settings filter those monitors have going on. But I wasn't actively looking for a new monitor either, because a decent one costs more than my will to live. Not ready for that kind of financial trauma. Didn't thought about manifesting one either, my brain kinda forgot this was an option. What happened? I saw an absolute unit of a monitor at my friends desk. Colors so juicy they made my eyes water and my heart lurch. Size big enough to show me my shrimp like posture while drawing in full HD reflection. I thought "Damn this thing is nice. I will get one like that one day. Mine". That was it. No drama, no longing gazes at the monitor, no dropping hints at my friend that I want the monitor. No hints that my old one was being cranky and slowly turning into a microwave. Just looked at that spicy monitor and internally decided one like that would be mine. Fast forward not even 24 hours later and my friend suddenly turns to me and asks: "Hey, you want that monitor? I never use it anyway". That exact monitor I locked eyes with the day before. Zero effort, zero mental crisis. We swapped, one of my backup monitors for that gorgeous piece of display heaven (that thing has touchscreen too T-T). "But Mochi, why are you telling us this boring story???" Because sometimes shit just works like that. No need to strangle or micromanage every detail of your manifestations. I wanted it, I probably mentally claimed it and went on with chugging a liter of hot chocolate with milk despite being lactose intolerant. No pressure, no mental crisis, no "what if I never get a monitor that nice?", no "I need it now or I'll explode." Same applies to shifting more or less. Maybe we should sometimes back off and trust the process, and maybe the 3D will get its ass up and actually do shit. And yeah, I struggle with that in regards to shifting too. No shame in admitting that. I want my DR so bad and now and I question everything I do twice, I basically build a brick wall in front of myself. But shit like those small manifestations make us learn, right? Right ^-^

[honeyhotteoks]

this night together - in their hands (j.yh, s.mg, p.sh, c.sn)

a 'this night together' deleted scene: in their hands

summary: chapter twelve of this night together from the boys perspectives, if you haven't read that yet, go here and read that first.

warnings: every warning that applies to chapter twelve, plus a lot of violence. blood, fighting, descriptions of body parts breaking, ideations of killing, and a lot of internal panic and emotion.

notes: this deleted scene is entirely dedicated to the person who commented and said it would be interesting to see chapter twelve from the boys perspective. i've never written from their povs before, so i hope this still flows well and feels good, but i couldn't get that thought out of my mind. i pretty much wrote this in one sitting and only edited it once..... so i hope it doesn't disappoint but i really just wanted to share it with you all.

there are some things that will be covered in chapter thirteen that are getting lightly spoiled here, but for the purpose of consistency i'm going for it.

pairings: alpha!yunho x alpha!mingi x omega!reader plus alpha!san x alpha! seonghwa

genre: smut, a/b/o/omegaverse, angst, fluff, romance, polyamory

word count: 7.8k

Yunho feels the hair on the back of his neck stand up and the air around him shift just enough to make his stomach tight about three seconds before he hears your scream. He doesn’t need to think through if it’s you or someone else, he feels it in his gut like a brick and he’s scrambling to his feet so fast his brain feels sluggishly behind. 

“Something’s wrong,” He manages as he starts to move, but Mingi is already gone like a flash and he follows at  breakneck speed behind his best friend. 

His heart feels heavy in his chest, his mouth is dry, and in the seconds it takes to run from the back office to the far studio rooms, he starts to realize that there is something very, very wrong with his omega. 

Footsteps behind him don’t deter him, his eyes are steady on Mingi’s back. 

“What the fuck was that?” San. 

“y/n,” Seonghwa, but Yunho stops listening the minute he watches Mingi push in the door to the practice room, the sound of it as it swings back on its hinges and collides with the wall stark and sharp. They take in so many little things at once before adrenaline pumps through their brains and throws them all forwards into action.

Mingi catalogs Minseok’s hands, one sunken into the back of your hair and pulling your head to the side, the other pressing you back into the wall at your chest. His knee is pressed between your thighs and the straps of your top are roughly wrenched to the side to bear the length of your throat. 

All Yunho can see is your face and everything in him is suddenly so full of cold fear. You look so blank, your body unmoving against the mirrored wall and palms upturned in submission. For a single second he thinks he’s lost you already, that the strange metallic taste in his mouth is the scent of your blood from Minseok’s successful claim and something strange and panicked bubbles out of his chest. It takes him a moment for his brain to catch up and to realize it's you, the metallic taste isn’t iron at all; it's ripe tannins, over-steeped tea, bitter and sudden and pulsating your fear and panic through the room. 

Mingi moves first. “Get the fuck off her!” His hands close over Minseok’s neck and shoulder, wrenching him backwards with a curt jerk of his arms. 

Your body tips sideways, but your face is still empty and Yunho’s mouth is so full of dry, acerbic chamomile and he can’t catch you, he can’t do anything. Everything goes absolutely silent in his mind. 

His fist connects with Minseok’s cheek first, but it doesn’t feel good enough. Mingi hauls him back up and Yunho throws a cross hard and with sure direction and then he feels the crunch of bone under his knuckles as Minseok’s nose snaps, the blood quick as he shouts and reaches to clutch at his face. 

If there’s one thing alphas typically aren’t good at it’s de-escalation, and whatever primal release of hormones his broken nose unlocked, Minseok shoves Mingi off and comes back up swinging. 

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yunho narrowly misses the return shot, dipping to the side, and hands once again close down on Minseok, the combined weight of San and Seonghwa pressing him down towards the floor. 

“You broke my fucking nose!” Minseok scrambles against them. 

“Stay down,” San presses his knee square between Minseok’s shoulder blades and drops his weight. 

“Fuck you!”

Yunho drops fast, locking his hand over the back of Minseok’s neck to press his face into the wood floor and help hold him down. 

Mingi stumbles forwards after being pushed off balance, but then his eyes flick up past the scuffle and he sees you. You’re lying flat on your back on the practice room floor, eyes vacant and unfocused on the white ceiling, your leg bent in a strange position, one that can’t be comfortable but still you don’t move. 

He knows it all at once. 

“Oh, God,” His stomach turns as he ignores the writhing alpha on the floor and the others doing their best to pin him down so he can skid to your side and drop to his knees. 

Yunho can’t see you from his vantage point, he’s holding Minseok and facing the opposite direction and that wall of the practice room doesn’t have any mirrors to guide him, “Mingi, what? What’s going on?” 

“Baby,” Mingi’s so quiet as he shifts forwards, but Yunho hears it. 

“Is she alright?” Yunho can’t wait, he twists around and loses his steady grip on Minseok, but he has to know, “Mingi! Seriously, is she,” 

Mingi’s hands cup your cheeks, and he studies your empty expression for a moment but he doesn’t need to, “Jesus,” he manages, “he put her in subspace,” 

“He did what?” Seonghwa’s voice is sharp. 

“I’ll fucking kill him,” Mingi’s something else entirely when he’s angry, really and truly angry, and he has Minseok right where he wants him in a second. He cuts through the other alphas in a flash, rolling Minseok onto his back and straddling the smaller man’s hips to pin him in place. His fist has never felt as good as this moment, cracking across this coward’s teeth and splitting his skin again, and again, and again. 

The sound of your whimper only makes it feel better. 

Yunho suddenly and with perfect clarity knows what to do. In this moment you need him, even if you’re not in the presence of mind to ask, he knows. He looks you over fast as he slides close to you, relief flooding him when he sees the unbroken skin of your neck. He’ll process the redness later, the wet glisten of saliva over your gland, but his first conscious thought is that he’s strangely grateful for Minseok’s sadistic approach to claiming you against your will. He thought he had time to savor you, and those seconds of his carelessness saved your life. 

Despite your blank eyes, tears slip from the corners and snake down into your sweat-damp hair, and Yunho watches the quiver of your lip, the way your whole body seems to tremble right from its very center despite how still you really are. He drops his head to the side and calls back to the others, “Calm down or get out of here, do you understand me? You’re scaring her,” 

“Mingi,” San is wrapped around his friend’s back, trying to pull his arms into his chest, “Mingi, stop! Mingi, you’ll kill him, man, stop!” 

Minseok groans, spitting blood onto the practice room floor with choke, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, fuck,” 

“He,” Mingi’s voice is tight, “you saw what he did,” 

Minseok whines again, “Rut, it’s my rut,” 

Mingi’s nose crinkles at that and he has half a mind to keep swinging but San’s arms tighten, banded around him now and he lets him keep him still. 

“I know,” San soothes, ignoring Minseok and staying focused on his friend, “but she’s safe now,” 

“I,” Mingi breathes, but a voice breaks through the fray. 

“I called the police!” Everyone’s heads snaps up at the sound of Dahan in the doorway, her eyes shining and terrified, “they’re on their way…. I… I’ll get an ambulance too,” 

“Good,” San nods, “go wait for them out front, Dahan, tell them to hurry,” 

Her sneakers squeak on the hardwood as she darts away, her cellphone pressed against her ear. 

“We got him,” Seonghwa interjects, locking his hands down on one of Minseok’s arms, “San, help me get him to the office,” 

Everyone hears the soft, panicked noise that bubbles from the back of your throat. 

“G-go,” Mingi pushes himself back off Minseok’s hips and San finally releases his arms, “get him out of here,” 

San yanks Minseok up off the floor and winds an arm under him to hold him steady, Seonghwa on the opposite side so they can drag him up the hall to the back office. 

“Mingi,” Seonghwa manages, “please take care of her,” 

He nods once, annoyance bristling under his skin. Of course he will, you're his omega and no one, no one will ever care for you like him and Yunho. Even if you never want to talk to him again, even if he has to watch you go and let you live your life some other way with some other alpha, somehow he knows that truth down to his very soul. 

As Mingi returns to your side, Seonghwa allows his eyes to wander. He’d been trying to look anywhere else but you since he made it into the room, too afraid that he’d see the evidence of a violent claim on one of his best friends, too afraid he’d lost you. He’s never put an omega into subspace before, not even when they’ve wanted to be there, and now he doesn’t know if he’ll ever see anything but your empty eyes when he thinks of it. 

The last thought he has as he rounds the corner is that the man in his arms used to be his teammate, but now he thinks he’s as good as dead. 

Minseok groans between him and San and he can’t help but tighten his grip on the man just to make it hurt a little bit more. 

He groans again, but this time San’s the one who stops dead, “Stop whining,” his voice is cutting, “you don’t get to complain after what you’ve done,” 

A little huff of air passes through Minseok’s lips, “Some alphas you are,” 

“Excuse me?” San’s fingers tighten on Minseok’s arm where he still holds him upright. 

“There’s nothing wrong with taking what’s on offer,” Minseok says it like it’s obvious, “isn’t that right, Seonghwa?” 

Seonghwa’s stomach goes icy and he’s not really the type to get into a physical fight, but this? This is something altogether different. He has him back up against the wall of the hallway with a sharp knee to his gut, and then his mind goes absolutely blank. He’s never felt rage like this, true and deep compelling retribution singing through his blood and he just can’t help himself. 

“She’s a person,” Seonghwa lands a swift kick to the man’s ribs as he lets him drop to the floor, “and you’re a fucking waste of an alpha,” 

“Hwa,” San’s voice is low and calm, but he ignores it. 

Another kick, another. He feels ribs give way to make space for his rage, “Stand up if you’re such a big man,” 

Minseok groans again. 

“You’re alpha enough to terrify an omega,” Seonghwa spits, “come on, get up, try and terrify me,” 

He’s coughing now, fingers gripping the cold hard floor beneath him, “P-please,” 

“What was that?” Seonghwa lands a stiff punch to his gut. 

Minseok curls in on himself with a cry, “Please, you know what, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for what I said,” 

“I’d keep your mouth shut,” San again, but Seonghwa can’t conceive of where he is or what he’s doing, his eyes are so singularly focused on this man. 

“It was,” Minseok coughs, blood across his lips, “the rut, I just lost it, you know how the haze is,” 

“I don’t know a thing about how you are,” Seonghwa drops another punch. 

“No, no!” Minseok shrieks at the sensation of another rib popping. 

“Hwa,” 

Minseok’s voice is getting threadier, “y/n, she,” 

Seonghwa’s hand redirects, a sharp strike across his face as he descends on the man in earnest, “Keep her name out of your fucking mouth,” 

He loses count of the number of punches it takes for Minseok’s jaw to pop and his eyes to roll back, and San knows he should have stopped it all sooner, but there’s a part of him that wanted to watch this man suffer too. 

Seonghwa is shaking, blood spattered across his gray sweatpants, smears darting up the sleeves of his white shirt. The soft skin of his knuckles is split open and angry, and San thinks if it was possible to love someone’s hands more, he does. San curls his body around Seonghwa from behind, but unlike Mingi, Seonghwa allows his arms to be pulled in by his sometimes lover. 

“Jagi,” San whispers low in his ear so only he can hear, “come back,” 

Minseok is still, his eyes closed, “Sannie,” Seonghwa’s voice cracks, “w-what did I do? Is he dead?” 

“No,” San squeezes him, “he’s just knocked out. An ambulance is coming, you did nothing wrong.”

“What did I do?” Seonghwa asks again, his voice small, and San knows he has to take care of things now. 

San pulls Seonghwa up to stand, turning him physically away from the bloodied man on the floor, “Jagi, come away with me, alright?” 

“What did I do?” 

“You’re in shock,” San says softly, “but I’m here,” 

“What did I do?” He repeats, empty as San steers him towards the back office. He’s never been in a fight, he’s never hurt someone like that in his life. He’s not prepared for the way that the feeling of a body under his angry hands replays on a loop in his mind, he didn’t know he was capable of things like that. 

“Shh,” San bids him as he gets him directed into a seat, “I’ll be right back, baby, but I need to take care of something first.” 

Seonghwa is vaguely aware of a shout from the far practice room, and down the length of the hall he finds Minseok’s body again with his eyes. 

San steps cleanly into his eyeline to break his gaze, “Stay right here, just breathe.” 

He manages to nod, and then San is gone and the door is shut. He wants to cry. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Tone is not something Mingi has ever enjoyed using. He’s tried it, of course, every alpha has even when they say they haven’t. It’s natural, it’s a part of growing up, he just always hated the way tone seemed to change every boy around him. Mingi remembers the first time he ever tried it, in the mirror in the emptiness of his childhood home. His voice broke a little later than the other boys around him, but when it did it dropped fast and deep in the smack center of his chest. 

He remembers his middle school teacher’s eyebrows drawing high when he said hello to her the next day. He remembers how she smiled and the way she said - Maybe you’ll make a good alpha afterall. 

He started to speak less and less after that. He practiced at home in the mirror just to understand the shape of his voice like that, but unlike some of the other boys who couldn’t help but torment with their tone, he knew what it could do. Yunho was the first boy he ever met that didn’t need to use it to command respect on the school yard, and when Yunho swung an arm around Mingi’s shoulders and said he was with him, he got respect too. No one asked why he was so quiet after Yunho, they finally just let him be. 

Mingi hasn’t used tone since he was maybe sixteen, joking around with Yunho to make each other laugh trying to stay up late on a summer’s night. But an alpha never forgets how to do it, and Mingi just has to let it come. 

He’s crouched over your prone body now, his hands holding your face steady as he tries to get your eyes to focus on his. Yunho is practically a knot of panic next to him, but he can’t focus on him when he knows he has to focus on you to pull you out from under. He doesn’t know what Minseok said to you to put you this deep into headspace, but he knows he should have killed him for it. 

He watches tears track silently down your temples and over his shaking fingers as Yunho begs him, “Why isn’t this working?” 

“I’m not sure,” He answers quietly, but he knows exactly why, he just doesn’t for the life of him want to do it, so he tries one more time with his normal voice, “y/n. Omega. Listen to me now,” 

People respond to their designations, it’s natural, and in a state of submission like this the possibility that you’d be able to latch onto the word ‘omega’ alone is certainly possible. The noise you make is thready and tight, but at least Mingi knows he has your ear now.

  “Come up now,” He repeats, “right now. Listen to me, omega,” 

He might be able to get you up without using tone, but he doesn’t know for sure. You don’t make a single sound in response to his last plea, and suddenly he can’t stop it, he can’t lose this one chance of your conscious mind floating close enough to the surface. 

He takes a low inhale, letting the otherworldly calm fill his chest, the familiar feeling of his alpha tone building in his lower throat and then he says it, “Don’t disobey your alpha.” 

Your eyes finally flick to his, pupils dilating as you focus on Mingi’s face. 

Yunho draws in a sharp breath. 

Mingi remains passive, he doesn’t let himself feel the joy yet of knowing you’re okay, he has to get you there first. He needs you awake, talking, crying, screaming, anything to tell him that you’re here. He holds your eyes steady, “When you’re given a directive, you follow it.” He hates this part, the way an alpha’s bark can make an omega snap to attention, but he almost has you back. Shifting closer he levels his voice more and gives you a clear and present order, “Come. Up.” 

Mingi watches your face break from cold blankness, grief and panic etched into the lines on your forehead and by your eyes, your hands reflexively jerking up to defend yourself like it was your last thought before you lost the ability. 

“I’m sorry,” You choke out, and he watches you start to curl in on yourself. 

He’s not thinking anymore really, he just can’t let you hide away from them, and he pulls your body up into his shaking arms, “You’re here? You’re with us?” 

His name on your lips. 

Your body is vibrating with panicked sobs, and he feels you claw against him like you want to crawl into his chest, pushing your body against his with desperate heaving breaths. For a moment he’s so worried that his own use of alpha tone might have hurt you more than helped you and his mind spins. 

Yunho drops a heavy hand on Mingi’s thigh, a steadying comfort bringing him straight back to center. 

Mingi drops his face to your hair and strokes your back, “Shh,” his body rocks naturally to soothe you, “we’ve got you, we’re right here, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” 

“She’s bleeding,” The edge in Yunho’s voice scares him, and Mingi snaps to attention. 

His hands search over your body, looking for the source of pain, trying to find the problem that he can fix so you’ll just stay whole and here and with him. 

“Here,” Yunho says, stopping Mingi’s frantic movements, “it’s not too bad.” 

It’s not, rationally he knows that by the small amount of blood smeared across Yunho’s fingers, but Mingi’s never seen you bleed before and his stomach knots up tightly in rage. 

Mingi holds you while Yunho steps in, talking you through the moment as you come back to your senses. He can barely breathe at the way your body shakes in his arms, your nails digging into his thigh where you grip him unconsciously, and he hears your fast breath and the quick step flutter of your heart, but he can’t move. His hands keep making fists, he wants so badly to stalk down the halls and find this man. Nothing he did was good enough, not now that he’s hearing you cry. You were never supposed to be afraid like this, not ever. 

He comes back into his body when you pitch the contents of your stomach into the little plastic trash can that Yunho pushes into your hands, the sound of your tight wretch shocking enough to pull him back down. 

He gathers your hair back, “Okay,” he tries to soothe you, “you’re okay,” 

“He touched me,” You manage, and Mingi’s mind flashes with static images. His hand in your hair, on your chest, lips, tongue, teeth. 

Mingi and Yunho both hold you steady while you heave again, “The things he said,” 

“Shh,” Yunho tries now, “you’re safe, none of that is true.” 

“He talked to me like a dog, and I couldn’t move, he told me not to move and I just let him,”

Mingi finds his voice too quickly, “No.” 

The way you twitch under his hands makes him sick and he softens his voice as best he can despite the curl of anger in his belly, “He used alpha tone on you, he wanted you to stop fighting and he said it in tone until you couldn’t hear anything else.” 

Yunho’s hand lays over his on your back. 

“You didn’t let him do anything,” He needs you to understand. 

“I’ve never,” You heave again, nothing in your body this time. 

Mingi’s ears are ringing, but Yunho’s soothing you now like he’s so good at doing and you’re pushing back the plastic bin, but then you slide out of his arms and onto the wood floor and he doesn’t know if he should reach for you or not. 

“I’ve never been in subspace,” He hears you say. 

“You’re not there now,” 

“I don’t remember, it’s so muddled, I can’t remember,” 

Mingi watches you frantically check your body and he wishes he had had the foresight to fix your shirt from the way that it was pulled to the side over the cap of your shoulder because maybe you wouldn’t have had to remember that and he could have saved you this one small thing.

  Yunho dips lower in front of you to meet your eyes when he says, “What can’t you remember?” 

Mingi watches you reach up your hand, desperate to know. He remembers suddenly the moment in his bed all those months ago when you mistakenly thought in the haze of heat Yunho might have claimed you. Rage and sick guilt swirl in his gut and then he hears you ask it, soft and terrified, “Did he… did we?” 

“No,” Yunho brings you right out of that terror spiral and back to the moment, “absolutely not.” 

Mingi hates the smell of your fear and he’s learning that he hates the way you look when you’re scared. He never wants to see you like this again for as long as he lives. 

“All I can smell his him,” 

He has to get out of this room. 

“I can’t even breathe,” 

Mingi knows you need someone calm right now, someone centered and capable, but if he has to feel you shaking on his lap again he might just snap. His eyes flick to Yunho, “Take her,” 

There’s a question in his friend’s eyes but Yunho’s careful not to say it out loud. 

“I’m getting water,” Mingi says, and then he’s moving. 

In the hall his breath comes back in heaving gulps and he nearly slips in a little pool of blood on his frantic way to the locker room. 

San is up the hall, in front of the closed back office door with his cell phone tucked tightly against his ear but at the sight of Mingi he drops it immediately and presses it to his chest, “How is she?” 

“Awake,” Mingi responds, “alert,”

“Herself?” San asks. 

Mingi nods, “Where is he?” 

He’s not sure it’s actually best for him to know that information at this time, but he had to ask anyway. San nods his head to the right towards a smaller studio space, “He’s unconscious, don’t even think about it.” 

“I’m… I’m not, I,” Mingi feels dizzy, he needs to sit before gravity makes him. 

“I have to,” San shakes the phone, putting it back to his ear, “she’s okay, I’m telling you, she’s okay.” 

Mingi can’t be here, he can’t be anywhere. He pushes himself to the connecting hallway that leads to the locker room. 

“Wooyoungie,” He hears San say from behind him, “listen to me, she’s okay, I promise you.” 

Mingi cannot understand how this day went from normal, hopeful about Saturday, to catastrophically terrible in every way imaginable. 

In the locker room he collapses on one of the wooden benches, his mind pulsing with questions. He needs to get back to you, but he can’t let you see him like this, he knows he’d scare you after everything you’ve just been through. He wonders if this is a panic attack. 

The thought that presses into him sideways and buries deep in his brain is sickening. He left you alone with that man for three months. He was traveling, and laughing, and dancing, and eating stupid junk food thinking his biggest problem was whether or not you might be into Seonghwa. He was so selfish. He blanches when the next thought occurs to him. Have you been afraid of Seo Minseok this whole time, afraid in ways you felt you couldn’t tell them? 

Mingi rips open his locker and pulls out anything he can find to muffle his bubbling voice, a sweatshirt and a towel stuffed tightly against his mouth to capture his angry scream. He has to get this out of his body, and he has to get back to you, but he’s so, so angry in a way that feels uncontrollable. 

His body collides with the locker door, denting the middle inwards enough that it no longer properly latches shut, but he doesn’t care. The pain spiking up the side of his arm is good, it’s real, and it pumps his brain full of all the chemicals he needs to focus. 

He puts any thought of going across the hall into the practice room where Minseok lays unconscious. He ignores the little voice that says he would be justified in finishing him off. He forces himself to think about your face, your smile when he saw you at the party for the first time in months. 

He holds that image while he moves quickly, grabbing a few water bottles and turning right down the hallway towards you and away from every impulse flicking through his body.  He stops short at the door when he hears Yunho’s voice, “I’d put him on the floor faster than you could blink. Mingi and I both would.” 

He breathes through the spike of anger as he hears your soft voice in response. He hates that you’re still afraid, even with him here, but he knows he has to show you for you to believe it. 

“You are completely safe,” Yunho says, and at this moment Mingi is so grateful for Yunho’s steadfast calm. 

He takes one more deep, deep breath, and pushes through the doorway with as much softness as he can muster. 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________

San ignores his phone. He’s told Wooyoung everything he can about what happened and that you’re safe and now he has other problems to deal with. 

As Mingi disappears into the locker rooms, Dahan races back through the hallway, her eyes darting down at the puddle of blood, “Oh, god,” 

“It’s his,” San assuages her fears immediately, “are they on the way?” 

“Yes, I told them to hurry,” She nods, “does he need an ambulance too?” 

“The ambulance is for him,” San says, clearing his throat, “can you wait for them and show them where to come? I need to,” he jerks his head towards the back office. 

“Yes, yes, of course,” 

“And Dahan,” He remembers himself, “don’t go into studio two, okay?” 

Her eyes flick to the door, “Is he in there?” 

San nods, “He’s hurt, but still, he’s not safe to be around, okay?” 

Dahan might be a beta, but he’s not taking any risks where Minseok is concerned, not after he heard the way he talked so casually about what he did to you. She nods, stepping backwards down the hall once more. 

With everything taken care of, he can finally focus. 

San pulls open the door to the back office and Seonghwa jumps, his eyes going from unfocused to focused in a second. “It’s only me,” San says softly, “I’m here now,” 

“San,” Seonghwa’s eyes well up with tears, “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” 

San shakes his head, dropping to crouch in front of him, and he gently lays his hands on Seonghwa’s knees, “There’s nothing wrong with you at all,” 

“I should be helping,” Seonghwa swallows tightly. 

San shakes his head again, “Everything’s handled,” he says, brushing his hand over Seonghwa’s long black hair, “there’s nothing to do right now.” 

“y/n?” Seonghwa murmurs. 

“She’s awake,” San repeats Mingi’s words from a few moments ago, “alert, and she’s herself,” 

“Thank god,” Seonghwa’s breath hitches, “and she’s alright? She’s not alone?” 

“They’re with her,” San soothes him, cupping his cheek, “she’s right where she needs to be,” 

“Good,” Seonghwa sinks back into his seat. 

San lets his hand drop back to Seonghwa’s thigh, his phone once again buzzing incessantly in his pocket. He’s sure Wooyoung is frantic, but right now he needs to focus here on the man in front of him. Wooyoung will have to wait. 

“Who’s calling?” Seonghwa nods towards San’s pocket. 

“Woo,” 

“You told him?” Seonghwa surmises. 

“I thought she might need him,” San confesses softly, “I don’t know what an omega would want at a time like this… I wouldn’t know what to do,” 

“You’re doing it now,” Seonghwa corrects, “you’re doing better than me,” 

San squeezes Seonghwa’s knee, giving him the smallest shake of his head, he never was one to accept that kind of self deprecating talk and he’s not about to start now. 

“I should,” Seonghwa starts to shift away from San and put space between them, but then he actually looks down at himself and his chest starts to pound, “oh, Jesus,” 

He hadn’t properly looked, he hadn’t really taken it in until this moment. He’s never seen so much blood before, and his hands are shaking as he turns them over to see his stained palms. 

“Shh,” San covers Seonghwa’s trembling hands with his own, “I’ve got you,” 

“H-he’s alive, right?” Seonghwa can’t think of anything except the way Minseok’s jaw felt coming loose under his fist, “Sannie, did I kill him?” 

“No, no,” San dips closer, pressing a warm kiss to Seonghwa’s forehead, “he’s fine, it looks worse than it is. You didn’t do that, you’d never do that, I know you,” 

Tears pool in Seonghwa’s eyes, tracking down his cheeks quickly as he drops his head against San’s clean knuckles, “I thought about it,” his voice is tight with tears, “what does that make me?” 

“Hey,” San moves in, pressing quick kisses along Seonghwa’s temple, any part of him that he can reach, “no, it makes you a person, alright? He did something awful to someone we love.” San squeezes his hands tight, “He hurt her, he could have claimed her, we all know what that means, okay? You were protecting her, you did nothing wrong,” 

Seonghwa stills, letting his words sink in. He thinks about what an unwanted claim would have done to you, who you would have become. 

“It wasn’t his rut either,” San leans his head against Seonghwa’s, his thumb caressing the back of his hand, “you know that’s just what these alphas say when they try to do what he did,” 

“I don’t understand why he would try it here,” Seonghwa lifts up, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“He thought we were all gone,” San says quietly, “I’m sure he thought y/n and maybe Dahan were the only ones working late. Yunho and Mingi had the back office door closed, I was in the gym, and you said you were leaving early. It was quiet,” 

“He planned it, then,” Seonghwa’s stomach rolls. 

“I think so,” San nods, “we just need the police to believe that.” 

“They’re coming?” Seonghwa murmurs. 

“Mhm,” San smiles, close lipped and then sighs, “jagi, I need you to do something for me,” 

Seonghwa studies his face, he hasn’t heard San call him that outside of bed in so long, “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

San sighs, eyes flicking away, “You know why,” 

The feeling sits between them for a moment, and then Seonghwa nods, “What do you need me to do?” 

“We need to get you out of these clothes,” San cups his cheek again, “and you need to wash your hands,” 

“San,” Seonghwa’s jaw tightens, realizing what San is pushing him to do, “I’m not lying to the police,” 

“It’s not lying,” San presses, “you’re just changing after work,” 

“If I get in trouble for what I did, I’m not going to get caught lying on top of that,” Seonghwa murmurs, “I know what you’re trying to do, but think it through.” 

San’s jaw tenses and relaxes and then he nods, “Alright, but I’m cleaning your cuts, and you’re not going to argue about that.” 

Seonghwa smiles softly and nods, “Okay,” 

San ignores the phone in his pocket again and finds the first aid kit in the cabinets, pulling out a pack of alcohol wipes and gauze. He doubles back for a water bottle and some paper towels, and then he pulls a chair close to Seonghwa to sit and take his hands back in his. 

Seonghwa is quiet while San works. He uses the water and the paper towel to effectively wash the blood away from his palms and the alcohol wipes to clean the broken skin of his knuckles. He works on him quickly and quietly, and he fights the urge to kiss his broken skin when he’s finished, he’s gotten away with too much today already. 

He holds Seonghwa’s hands in his, so much softer and more delicate than his. He thinks that after today he’ll have to take care to make sure he never has to use them in violence again. San thinks the next time he will do better, if Seonghwa ever has to kill, San will be the one to kill for him. 

San smooths his thumbs over the backs of Seonghwa’s hands, and this time he does give into temptation. Dipping forward he presses a kiss to each of his palms. 

“San,” Seonghwa’s voice is soft, “we’re alright,” 

“I know,” He whispers into the soft skin of the hands he misses so deeply, hands he aches for. If anyone ever touched him the way that Minseok touched you, he can’t even conceive of what he wouldn’t do. 

His phone rings again, and this time he answers it. 

“Now you answer?” Wooyoung’s voice is taut, “I’m downstairs,” 

“I had things to take care of,” San sighs, standing and giving Seonghwa’s hand one final squeeze. 

“I’m coming up,” Wooyoung ignores his excuse, “he better be in a fucking body bag when I get there,” 

The line goes dead, and San steps into the hall. He takes quick stock. Minseok is still unconscious in studio two, he can hear the tone of your voice from down the hall mixed with Yunho and Mingi’s. The slick patch of blood on the tile is gone, and San wonders if Dahan had the same idea he did about cleaning up before the police arrive. 

The door to the access stairs by the elevator swings open, Wooyoung looking wild and full of panicked rage, and San dives back into the chaos. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________

For the first time in his life, Yunho wishes he wasn’t the designated driver for everything. He wishes Mingi had a license. He wishes that after the most uncomfortable and awful hospital trip of his life he could have tossed Mingi the keys and told him to drive and climbed in the backseat with you. Instead he’s stuck in the driver’s seat again, trying to focus on the road but finding himself glancing up every few seconds to check his rear view mirror just so he can see you asleep with your head in Mingi’s lap. 

“Green light,” Mingi murmurs with a nod of his head, and Yunho breaks his eyes away from the mirror to watch the road again and press the gas. 

“Sorry,” He manages. 

“I get it,” Mingi replies, his fingers slowly brushing along your temple, “I can’t believe she’s here either.” 

“Is she sleeping?” Yunho checks. 

“Mhm,” Mingi nods, “she’s out,” 

Yunho breathes a sigh of relief, he hated having to wake you up with Mingi every few minutes on the way to the hospital when they weren’t sure if you had a concussion or not, he’s just happy you can actually get some rest if you need it. 

“Yunho,” Mingi says quietly, a question in the lilt of his voice, “what did the police want to ask you?” 

“Um,” His eyes flick to the mirror and then back to the road, “they wanted to talk to the owner, but Jaemin obviously wasn’t there,” 

“Right,” Mingi nods. 

“I don’t know,” Yunho admits, “San gave them my name and said I could give a statement about what happened,” 

“Which was?” Mingi asks. 

Yunho watches your face for a moment, but it’s clear you’re still deep asleep and he shrugs, “The truth, that we heard a scream and that when we went into the room we saw him attempting to hurt her. It was clear he was trying to force a claim and that she was in subspace, and that Minseok fought us while we tried to subdue him.” 

“Do you think they believe that?” Mingi murmurs. 

“They have to,” Yunho won’t let that thought enter his mind, he knows what Mingi’s implying, they both heard the way your conversation with the police went at the hospital, but he can’t entertain the thought that the police would side with anyone but you. 

“Do they?” 

“Not tonight,” Yunho shakes his head, “not in front of her, she’s been through enough.” 

Mingi stays quiet, and Yunho drives on. 

When they pull into the alleyway that leads to their apartment, Yunho watches you start to stir. It’s like you have a sixth sense that the energy in the car is changing, and you make soft, sleepy noises as you come out of it. 

Mingi runs a hand soothingly up and down your back, “We’re home, okay? You’re with us,” 

Yunho watches the way you don’t respond. Your eyes look vacant again, unfocused and distant and when he pulls the car to a stop he watches the way you don’t wait to just step out yourself and start the familiar walk up to their front door. 

He exchanges a fast look with Mingi, and they follow you at a little distance to keep the pressure off until the door’s unlocked and you’re stepping over the threshold. Everything about this is wrong. Not you back in their home, that’s never felt so right to Yunho in his life, but you look glassy and scared and he wants nothing more than to take it away. 

“Hey,” He tries, waving a hand across your field of vision, “are you alright?” 

Your eyes flick away from his, a pregnant pause between you before you look back up, “I’m fine, sorry, it’s just been awhile.” 

He feels heat flood his cheeks, his ears warm. Of course you’re not alright, and he feels stupid and small at even asking the question. He feels foolish about every little thing until you walk down the hall and shut yourself away in the bathroom. 

“I don’t know what the fuck to do,” Mingi says suddenly, running a hand through his hair before moving towards the couch, “I still want to break something.” 

“I know,” Yunho nods, sitting next to him on the sofa, his knee bouncing nervously. 

Mingi shoots him a glance, his eyes flicking down to his knee, and Yunho freezes. They settle into the quiet of their apartment, and they listen. Yunho expects to hear you cry, something more than just the steady spray of the shower, but he doesn’t and that scares him more than anything. 

“Should we call the others?” Mingi clears his throat after a while, “Woo or,” 

“Seonghwa?” Yunho finishes his thought for him and then swallows tightly, “No, I, I wouldn’t know what to say.” 

“Me either,” Mingi nods. 

“She wants to be here,” Yunho remembers the way you clung to his shoulders at the studio, begging for home, and maybe tomorrow you’ll regret that decision but he’s done trying to think for you. 

“I know,” 

“Let’s just let her be here then,” Yunho murmurs. 

Yunho knows that Mingi doesn’t want to lose you just as much as he doesn’t. They agreed one night after just enough alcohol on tour how they felt, everything finally out in the open between them. They had never stopped and imagined a pack together, but they both know it feels right. 

“We’re her friends,” Mingi reasons quietly. 

“Friends,” Yunho nods, “and the fact that we’re both stupidly in love with her can wait,” 

“Yep,” Mingi sighs, “I think we’ve gotten pretty good at that,” 

Yunho huffs, a short breath of laughter through his nose and nods, “Yeah,” 

The sound of the shower turning off draws both their gazes up and down the hall, and then Mingi stands, “I’m going to make up my room in case she wants it,” 

Yunho watches him go. He listens to the stillness of the apartment around him. 

Mingi comes back and you’re still in the bathroom. They make themselves scarce. They listen as you come out of the bathroom and go straight into Mingi’s bedroom. The door shuts tight. Yunho listens but he doesn’t hear the turn of the lock. The bed creaks, sheets rustle, and then all is quiet. 

“What do we do now?” Mingi asks quietly. 

Yunho’s eyes flick over the closed door down the hall, “We wait.” 

Being pulled from sleep at four in the morning is never a good thing, but Yunho would put seeing you struggle through a night terror and a flash back at the absolute top of his most awful moments list. The way it took so much to get you to snap out of it and come back to them, the pile of Mingi’s bedding in the corner, the way your muscles stayed locked tight for minutes even with their arms around you. 

Holding you now with Mingi he keeps thinking of the purple bruises that litter your skin from where you rubbed your glands raw. He’s a swirling mix of emotion, but the worst part of it is that there’s nothing left to do. He can’t channel it anywhere, there’s no threat except the one in your mind now, and he doesn’t know how to make that kind of threat recede. 

He remembers the way you shrank back into his chest at the hospital at the glimpse of Minseok’s name on the hospital room door as you passed through to the exit. All he could do was wrap an arm around your body and try to steer you away, and he doesn’t know if that was even close to good enough. 

His mind turns it all over as light starts to spread in the sky outside, and he feels the way you’re shifting in the bed getting closer and closer to sleep. He hopes you can all get a few more hours before the reality of whatever tomorrow is going to bring. Your lips move against Yunho’s chest and he doesn’t risk shifting a muscle so he can hear your quiet words in the dark. It’s faint, but he hears it when you whisper, “Don’t let me go,” 

Yunho’s throat constricts, his eyes flooding with tears. He presses his eyes shut tight, trying to keep his breathing even and low so you don’t know he’s still awake. The weight of the night sinks into him, pushing against his chest and there are so many things he wants to say to you heavy on his tongue. 

It doesn’t take long for your breathing to level out and your body to unspool and relax, they both feel it when you do, and Yunho takes a shaky wet breath now that he knows he can. 

When he opens his eyes again it’s straight into Mingi’s and for some reason his friend’s unwavering gaze makes the tears come faster. 

Mingi waits, and Yunho looks away in discomfort at the raw moment of exposure. 

Quietly, and careful not to wake the woman in his arms, Mingi shifts closer to you and Yunho, his arm stretching across you both and settling on Yunho’s side. 

“It’s okay,” Mingi murmurs quietly. 

“How is this okay?” Yunho manages, getting his moment of overflowing emotion under control. 

“She’s here,” Mingi says simply, “even if it’s just tonight,” 

Yunho’s arms tighten around your sleeping form and he nods, “She’s here,” 

Mingi presses a kiss to your hair and squeezes Yunho’s side just once, “Sleep,” 

“What if she has another nightmare?” Yunho murmurs. 

“I’ve got her,” Mingi assures quietly, “you sleep,” 

You shift between them, winding your way deeper into Yunho’s embrace, and he passes a hand up and down your back until you sigh heavily against his skin. If this is all he has, he’s going to take it. He nods to Mingi, and despite the growing light leaking in through the curtains outside, sleep pulls him under. 

Mingi stays awake for as long as he can stand watching over you both, but held in their arms you barely stir. There are no nightmares, no subspace to hold you under. With the birds starting to sing, Mingi falls asleep. 

He wakes to the sound of a fist on their front door and the sinking feeling that last night might have really been their last with you. He hopes to god he’s wrong. He so badly wants to be wrong. 

[dwntwn-strnlo]

friendly fire. [m.st.]

── ⟡˙ ̟ matthew sturniolo x !reader

↳ synopsis. — drunk confessions!

↳ a/n. — thank you to the talented @sarosfilms for letting me use this idea! ella is so freaking creative and you should definitely check out her work :))

↳ requested? — no

↳ cw. — use of alcohol, verbal argument

you tilted your head back, beer spilling out of the red solo cup and past your lips. every reasonable nerve in your body was telling you that it's okay, no big deal. it was fine.

but yet, as your knuckles gripped the trashy plastic, you couldn't tell what emotion you were feeling. whether it was sadness, or anger—no. infuriation. you honestly couldn't tell.

eyes locked on your boy best friend, you want to absolutely lose your shit.

leaning against the wall, matt talks to a pretty girl. the way she's watching him speak, gaze glued to his lips and the way you fell in love with his smile? it made you want to burst into tears.

downing the rest of you stale alcohol, you turn around and toss your cup in the trashcan by the dishwasher. closing your eyes for a mere few seconds, you breathe. in through your nose, out through your mouth. trying to compose yourself and cope with the idea that it's just matt. friendly, easy to talk to matt. and he's not going to do anything that would remotely hurt you.

but why, oh why— did you feel like you were going insane?

when you realized that you were falling way past the silly schoolgirl crush for him, the idea of commitment bit you in the ass. though eventually, you wrapped your head around it and now you're head over fucking heels for the goofy influencer who's face haunts your insta feed.

by the time you open your eyes again, your heart is pounding. you weren't one to be so jealous and angry,—if that's even what your feeling right now—especially over a stupid little conversation with a stupid little tiktoker with stupidly big tits. so you have no clue what's gotten into you. besides maybe the 7 cups of beer you've downed in the last hour...

you pull out your phone, needing to get away before you actually lost your head.

you send a quick text to matt in the awkward case you were to get roofied or jumped or whatever frat/influencer thing the guys decide to do, that he'd at least know where you were. no matter how upset you were.

he's quick to react to your text, but you chose not to elaborate before shoving your phone back into your pocket and step outside.

immediately you feel a rush of relief wash over you when the pounding music is no longer rattling your brain, and now just bleeding through the front door.

quickly you wrap your arms around your torso, the night time air hitting you like a brick. closing your eyes again, you breathe in and out. in and out. in and out. trying to steady your keonigsegg of a heartbeat.

now that you're alone and away from the half naked dancing, sweating young adults, you can finally focus. and you soon realize how absolutely full of rage you are.

you want to scream and cry and-

"y/n?" you turn around to your name being called as the glass door slides against the rusty metal. "what are you doing out here?"

matt quirks a brow as he speaks, staring at you with confusion and concern stapled across his face.

"i uh-" you cover your mouth with your palm. trying to figure out what to say. you wanted to blow up at him, but you couldn't do that. he's just matt. just your friend. just your friend that your madly in love with. who cares? "no reason?"

the boy scoffs, knitting his brows as he looks at you in disbelief, "really?"

your eyes rake over his body as you search for something to say. noting how he's in just a simple black tee and baggy designer jeans. "who was the girl?" i snort, "she was really pretty!"

matt's eyes widen, still seemingly shocked by what your going on about. "huh? what girl?" he stuffs his hands in his pockets, shifting on his heels and the balls of his feet. "i wasn't talking to anyone."

you scoff, "i'm not stupid." crossing my arms over my chest. "i saw you talking to her, matt. blonde, big tits, you remember?"

he laughs, but there's not much humor in it. "you can't say shit like that."

"oh so you do remember, hm?" you bite, narrowing your eyes at him.

he puts his hands up defensively, waving them in the air between the two of you. "that was nothing. she was no one."

"you weren't nobody to her." you snort. "did you not see the way she was all goo goo ga ga over you? she was bout ready to flash her colorful feathers and do a mating dance."

"why do you care?" matt mirrors your body language, crossing his arms over his chest too.

your heart skips a beat or two... hundred. your face freezes at his words, and suddenly you're a deer in headlights. "because... i'm your friend matt."

"friend!?" he fires out, barely letting your words roll of your tongue. he looks exasperated, his blue eyes dark and wide.

his swords send you into a string of confusion. raising a brow at him, you snicker. "why are you so shocked?"

"because i love you, y/n."

what?

"yeah i love you too?" you mumble, uncrossing your arms.

matt scoffs. he scoffs. and it makes you even more exasperated then you were before. "are you fucking stupid?" the words make you rebuild the wall in your body, crossing your arms again and standing up a little taller. "i love you." he mutters again. this time unable to hold eye contact with you.

undeniably your breath hitches. this time as he says it, the words hit you a little harder. pressing into you like a body blow, threatening to knock you off your feet. "i don't understand.." you mumble, voice barely above a whisper as you swallow the lump in your throat.

"you are not my fucking friend, y/n. you are the person i aspire to be the most." he reaches out a hand to touch you, but drops it almost instantly. as if his body wasn't with his mind. "i want you so bad. i want to take you out and hold your hand and-" his breath hitches, eyes boring into yours.

as his words slip off his tongue everything seems to hit you like a train. "and what?" your voice cracks. as he finally goes silent, you realize your biting at your nails. picking recklessly at the skin around them. dropping your hand, your fingers fidget, waiting and waiting and waiting.

"i wanna be your boyfriend."

TAGLIST

@thetriplets3 @stxrniqlo @ifilwtmfc @iha8you @20nugs @gracietaylorsversions @fenoy7 @mlimmm @prettysturniolo @ssturniolo @gabbylovesreading @oh-toseewithoutmy-eyes @matthewmurdockswife @jellybeanbby @slaysturniolo @iheartshifting @mxqdii @luvsturniolo @lvrsparadise @partoftoofuckinmanyfandoms @sstvrniololuvr

[yuma-mukami-garden-god]

Laito with an s/o who is generally just chaotic, very sweet and nice and stuff, but no spacial awareness, there could be a brick wall in plane sight of them and they’d walk right into it. Notorious for spilling drinks. Not to mention they’re hyper, put them on a hamster wheel and they would just keep going. Forever. Literally forever. Maybe they’d stop, take a few breaths, but after five seconds they’re back at it. Also no filter. The ironic thing is is that they’re very smart, and not naive like expected, just no one has a clue how they haven’t gotten diagnosed with some form of neurodivergence yet.

Darling Disaster - Laito Sakamaki x Fem!Reader (NSFW teasing, dom!Laito, semi-public, light restraint, overstimulation, aftercare)

Laito loved chaos—especially when it came wrapped in sugar-sweet giggles and bruised knees from running into stationary objects. You were a mess. A beautiful, bouncing, overstimulated mess.

He knew it from the moment you tripped into the mansion, talking at breakneck speed, hands full of iced coffee you promptly spilled all over the carpet. You apologized while laughing, then somehow blamed the table, the universe, and gravity in under thirty seconds. He was enchanted.

So now, with you babbling about absolutely nothing—midway through a rant about how ducks are the true threat to society while trying to change your clothes—Laito was already hard.

"Ne~ Bitch-chan," he purred from the doorway, eyes drinking you in. "You need a leash, I think."

“I need a helmet,” you replied, buttoning your shirt immediately knocking over a glass of juice.

He was on you in seconds.

The wall met your back with a thud, but you didn’t even flinch—probably used to it. His hat hit the floor as he kissed you, deep and hungry. Your words died in your throat, but your hands were already tugging at his belt like it was a puzzle you had to solve.

“Always so eager,” he murmured against your lips, voice low and amused. “Do you even realize how wet you are just from me looking at you?”

You gasped, but whether from his words or the fact you accidentally elbowed yourself, who knew?

Clothes disappeared between kisses and gropes, and soon you were bent over the couch—one hand bracing yourself, the other still waving animatedly as you told him something about conspiracy theories involving IKEA and vampires.

He smacked your ass.

Hard.

You squeaked and finally shut up for a second.

“Good girl,” he whispered, voice like silk and sin. “Now use that mouth for moaning, not multitasking.”

And you did moan. Loud, high, gasping cries that bounced off the walls with every thrust. You clung to the couch like a lifeline, body trembling, yet still twitching like you wanted to move—run, pace, spin. He pinned your wrists to the cushion, forcing you to stay and feel.

You came fast. Twice. Maybe three times.

You lost count.

Brain fried, words slurring, hips jerking every time he pulled out and shoved back in. You hiccupped through a giggle as he came too, groaning your name and calling you his “perfectly fucked little mess.”

Later, wrapped in a blanket and being fed chocolate-dipped strawberries because you tried to go make a snack and nearly lit the stove on fire, Laito only smiled.

“Honestly, bitch-chan,” he purred, nuzzling your neck, “you really are my favorite disaster.”

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

Okay so part II of inviolable will be up later today (I'm currently sitting on my bed with an herbal tea and my laptop) but my tumblr kinda blew up overnight so I just wanted to say a huge thank you to everyone who followed, liked, reblogged, etc. :') honestly makes my gross little heart so happy.

I used to write a lot in my late teens/early twenties but I lost a lot of passion (tw: mentions of mental health problems) because of my depression, so I took like a six-year-hiatus from writing, and just exclusively read fics instead of doing anything with the ideas in my head. And over the past few days, the passion has just come back full force, slammed into me like a brick wall, and now I'm getting things out of my brain that I'm super excited about.

I'm just so grateful, like my heart chakra is lit tf up right now from how much love and light and gratitude I'm sending out to all of y'all.

All the love. <3

[thescarletnargacuga]

Oh, hello! My first ask on this site, so I don't really know how to do this. My apologies ^^". Harlequin au has literally been eating my brain for weeks now! I've been reading your writing, and it's so inspiring! I hope to reach that level of writing someday. Anyway, I wanted to ask; we've already had Pomni protecting her little bean with teeth and nails, but what about Caine? I think it would be so interesting to see Caine in action, whether to protect Pomni or Cade, or both! (And English is not my first language; sorry for any grammar error.)

A/N: all I can say is practice! And read. The writing style of other authors will inspire your own, and don't be afraid to take constructive criticism

A/N: on to the request! How about protecting Cade and Anya?

THE DRAGON'S ROAR

A HARLEQUIN AU ONESHOT

WARNING: distress, family dispute

~~~

Deep in the heart of the City of Circuits, the occupation of sentient puppets was bustling with activity. Construction, trading, and just general life was being lived in the newly repurposed city. Amongst the milling crowd were two smaller puppets, no more than five feet tall each, running and weaving through an active construction site.

Cade ran up a stack of bricks to swing from a beam of wood being hoisted by a mechanized crane. He trapezed himself over the heads of some of the workers and dropped to the other side. Landing in a ruck and roll, he kept running. "Come on, slow poke! You'll never catch me at that pace!"

A few seconds behind Cade, Anya ran around all the obstacles. Taking the long way through the construction zone, she weaves her way through the workers. "Pardon me, excuse me, very sorry. WAIT FOR ME!" She calls after her half brother.

Cade parkours his way to the top of a stack of crates and sits like he's been there for hours as his sister catches her breath when she finally catches up. "I'm telling you, Anya, you aren't taking full advantage of these new bodies. We're TEENS now! We can run faster, jump higher, and actually fight now!"

"You've had one lesson." Anya rolled her eyes and adjusted her teddy bear in her small cross body bag. She had to make sure he could see out. "That hardly makes anyone a warrior."

"Maybe not yet, but it does get you THIS!" Cade unsheathed his wooden training sword. "You don't need to cut something to make a strike hurt! Ha!" He stood on the pile of crates and swung his sword in a practiced figure eight. However, his motions made the stack away and he lost his footing.

Anya grimaced as she watched her brother fall with the crates. She checked on him when the dust cleared. "You alright?"

Cade kicked a broken half of a crate of his leg. "Yeah. I meant to do that, by the way."

"Suuuuure." Anya offered her hand to help him up.

Cade swatted away her hand and got up before his pride was further damaged. "Whatever. You need to hurry up and get training too. There's still a lot of marionettes on the loose."

"I am training. Mom is teaching me the art of artifact reading and the science of soul magic. You'd benefit from a lesson or two."

"Ugh, you know I don't do books. They're boring." Cade walked with her beyond the busier central hub of downtown. The crowds thinned the further out they wandered.

"There's power in knowledge. More than any blade." Anya lifted her skirt before she jumped over a large puddle.

"Ragatha teach you that too?" Cade idly dragged his training sword along a ruined wall.

"Of course. The world has many things to teach us. There's more to know than physical prowess-"

Cade yawned obnoxiously loud. "Uh-huh. I know. Souls. Ooooh. Magical. Mom barely uses any soul magic and she overcame every obstacle in her way. I'd argue the sword is mightier than the soul."

"But Caine-"

"Don't get me started. Dad talks a big game but all he does is teleport around like an unpredictable jackrabbit. I've never seen him do anything actually impressive."

"Cade, it's been a time of peace since before we were born. He hasn't had to use his powers. He was the first sentient puppet, he saw the human-puppet war, he saw the creation of the marionettes. That doesn't garner respect?" Anya clasped both of her hands on her bag strap.

Cade thought a bit longer before answering. "Sure...It's just, he doesn't do anything but work with the council and builds. Does that even require soul magic?"

Anya shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe. He builds things super fast. Like magic." She emphasized the last word with a smirk.

"Funny." Cade deadpanned. "Just wait until- what was that?" Cade stopped, sword held high. There was shuffling from the ruins to their right. "Who goes there!?"

A rat sprang from the debris and scurried away, causing Cade and Anya to jump. "Ha! Just a stupid rodent. Come on, let's catch it." Cade ran off after the rat.

"Wait! Cade! We shouldn't go too far out!" She called after her half brother, but he was already far ahead. Not wanting to be alone, she ran after him. "Wait for me!"

The rat race became another game of keep-up. The young puppets zig zagged through the maze-like ruins of the outskirts. The bustling and booming construction of the inner city grew faint.

The rat ran under a massive debris pile of an old mansion, shaking its pursuers. Cade hit his wooden award against the debris. "Dang it! Lost him! Oh well....ooo! Look at the size of this house!"

Anya came huffing up to Cade, "Why...do you...always...go so...fast? Where are we?"

Cade scoffed, "No idea, but check this out! It's almost as big as our house!" He climbed the partially collapsed west wing to the exposed broken staircase in the center of the mansion. "I think It would make a nice upgrade as a clubhouse, wouldn't you agree?"

Anya looked around tentatively, "I don't know... We're pretty far out from city center. I don't know if even the patrols go out this way. This is dangerous, Cade. We should head back."

"Danger? I laugh at danger! HAHAHAHA!" Cade exaggerated a defiant laugh.

Maniacal mechanical cackles echoed around them. Anya froze in place, petrified by the sudden realization that they weren't alone. Cade slid off the debris pile quickly, rushing to Anya's side. He had his sword drawn, held with both hands.

From the shadows came more laughter, broken and screeching. A tall, hunched, digitigrade figure lumbered into view. Then another. And another.

Six dog-headed, bipedal marionettes with blazing red eyes encircled the teens. The mechanical whistling and whirring from their bodies sounded like horrific cackling laughter.

Cade's soul shuddered in his chest. There were so many and they looked strong despite their rusted and withered frames. He spotted a weak support beam barely holding the second floor up over two of the marionettes. He grabbed a stone and chucked it at the beam. "RUN!"

The stone broke into the beam and brought down the second floor. The flying dust gave Cade and Anya an opening to escape between the confounded machines. Cade held Anya's hand, practically dragging her with him through narrow alleyways.

The half dozen marionettes dropped to all fours and ran after the fleeing prey. Three jumped to the roofs of rowed building and three stayed on the ground.

The mechanical barking and cackling of the marionettes made them feel only a step behind. Twisting and turning through the city, the teens met a dead end.

"Come on!" Cade climbed the broken wall and turned to help Anya up. To his horror, Anya's bag was grabbed by one of the marionettes and was dragging her back down. "No!" He threw himself at the marionette, bringing his hard wood sword down on its half broken head.

The marionette staggered and let go of Anya. She was in tears fiercely climbing away from the mechanized monster. Cade kicked away from the marionette he attacked and jumped to the other side of the wall with Anya.

They didn't even have a second to catch their breath. The marionettes clawed over the wall and snapped at the puppets. Anya grabbed her teddy out of her bag as she ran and squeezed its little hand three times.

The marionettes were closing in. Gnashing, cackling maws open wide, hungry for D.I.Es. One marionette pounced at the puppets. Cade caught it out of the corner of his eye and shoved Anya away. Its claws caught his leg and he stumbled. The young puppet was easily pinned, but he managed to keep his sword between himself and the marionette jaws. "RUN, ANYA!"

Anya crawled under an old iron cart that kept the marionettes at bay. Clawed hands reached for her as she squeezed the teddy bear's hand over and over and over. She couldn't watch Cade struggle against the marionette. She buried her face against the bear, screaming.

The clouds overhead darkened rapidly. Blue charge ran along the sky and gathered at a single point before striking the ground. In an explosion of blue light, all six marionettes jittered and shook in place. Their circuits fried and their fluid lines split open, leaking thick red fluid down their bodies.

The cackling stops. The machines fall to the ground, completely deactivated and smoking. Cade shoves off the marionette that was on top of him. Anya looked up to see Caine standing stoically amongst the carnage, not a speck of dust on his coat.

Anya runs to Caine and embraces him. "Thank you! Thank you!" She cries, black tears streaking down her cheeks.

Caine hugs her back, holding her until she was ready to let go. He looks up to see Cade wiping red fluid off his training sword. "Are you alright?"

"We're fine. We had it handled." Cade said coldly, kicking a marionette's head.

"You're not supposed to be out this far." Caine said firmly. "You're not ready to-"

"I just-!" Cade tried to start.

"You deliberately disobeyed me, and what's worse, you put Anya in danger!" Blue static rippled down Caine's body, his eyes flashing dangerously. "We are going home." He held Anya's hand and grabbed Cade's arm before blinking to the manor.

Upon arrival, Cade jerked his arm away and he marched to the training ground set up for him in the courtyard. He didn't look back.

Caine put a comforting hand on Anya's trembling shoulder. He was about to escort he inside when Ragatha came flying out the front door. "Oh my god, Anya! Baby, are you okay?? Caine rushed off in a hurry when you activated your beacon. What happened?"

Ragatha looked to Caine for answers, but he was focused on the direction of the training grounds. "Please, excuse me." Caine walked away, leaving Anya with her mother.

Cade was swinging his sword wildly at a dummy. He shouted his frustration with every swing.

"You know, enemies are typically easier to defeat when you don't announce the fact that you're attacking."

Cade swung around, pointing his sword at his father's throat. Caine didn't flinch. Cade glared at his father, breathing heavily. "Here to yell at me some more?"

"No. Your leg is still bleeding."

Cade looked down. His pant leg was torn open and there was a nasty gash down the back of his calf. Black blood seeped out slowly. "It-...it doesn't hurt. I'm fine." He grumbled and turned away to swing at the dummy some more.

"Why were you out that far, Cade?"

Cade scoffed, "Oh, now you care about why. It doesn't matter."

"You have very little combat training. Anya has none." Caine kept his tone even, but there was an underlying aura of anger. "Being out that far was reckless and stupid."

Cade swung his sword so hard, he decapitated the dummy. "You think I don't know that!? We were just having fun! Going on an adventure! As mom would say, shit happens!"

Caine bristled. "Your mother is also exceptionally experienced in reckless behavior, but she also does everything in her power to keep those around her safe. You want to put yourself in harm's way, that's one thing, but to endanger Anya like that-"

"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT!! I WOULD NEVER INTENTIONALLY ENDANGER HER!!" Cad got in Caine's face, enraged. "I WOULD HAVE FOUGHT THOSE THINGS TO THE DEATH FOR HER!! They were ambushed, we ran, you saved the day. Congra-fuck you-lations. You're the hero. Is that what you wanted to hear? An ego stroke?"

Caine and Cade stared each other down. Both silent in their rage. Until Caine swept Cade off his feet in the blink of an eye. Cade dropped his sword and Caine held Cade down with the end of his cane. Blue static pulsed through the cane and into Cade's body, mildly stunning him.

Caine's voice struggled to hide his anger. "There's a lot about this world you don't understand. Training takes time. You want adventure? You want to be the hero? Lesson one: be patient. Ambition left untempered leads to self-destruction." Caine lifted his cane and walked away. For the first time in a long time, he needed a drink.

Cade sat up, glaring after his dad. As he got up, he noticed his leg didn't ache. He looked to see the gash was gone, his leg repaired seamlessly. His face relaxed some. Silently, he picked up his sword and practiced the readied stances his mother taught him.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

Marriage Law Trope part 6

I don’t know why it matters. I don’t even like to eat.

I get up every day and I put my body into clothes that are growing increasingly baggy on me. I put these clothes on my body and I attempt to waste time.

Every day, while Granger is away, I pick at the white paint on the wall. I pick at the paint with a brush and colors I tore out of the studio in my personal quarters inside of the manor. I pick at my colors and I carry them all into the empty room across the hall from where all of Granger’s boxes are. the boxes are full of bits and pieces of her and I spend my time going between the two rooms.

I open her boxes and look through her life. It’s a stripped down, rudimentary version of who she is, but I take it.

I find pictures of her from when she was a child. Muggle photos, where nothing moves. It’s a still shot of a moment and you know it’s not an accurate representation of life because its just this micromomentary snippet of a moment within a moment within a world that you’ve never been in.

All day, I do this until I get too wound up.

When the ants have taken over my body and my brain can’t quiet down, I floo over to Theo’s.

Mother shoved Theo into my life shortly after I got engaged with Astoria. She took him and shoved him to fit into my life and I’ve taken to him. He seems to understand me without me having to say a word.

When I floo into his home, usually around dinner time, he pours me a drink and then we find our way into the muggle littered streets of London.

Together, Theo and I watch the automobiles amble by. Muggles like engines that combust with little explosions and they’re loud and they make the road shake and my skin to vibrate and I like it.

Theo and I pick fights with whatever smarmy asshole who hits on anything with tits and two legs. I don’t want the women they flirt with. I just want to have a wife who will sit at he table with me and have a cup of tea. I want a wife who will come home at supper time and tells me what is going on in her head.

I want a wife who doesn’t fuck a Weasley.

By the time Granger finally gets home, the alcohol has turned my body into mush, my mind is aching and it’s all wearing off. It’s the reprimand for altering your mind again. My mind is nearly always altered, but with alcohol, it hurts my head and with the potions, it hurts my chest.

And so when Granger finally gets home, I am still bored and I grow frustrated with the room that is now where I paint, because it’s too white, but I’m afraid to put any color into it. Because that would be distracting.

And so I just pick at the paint and I wait.

“So you paint.” Granger says, her eyebrows knitting together.

We’re sitting at the dining table inside of our little home and there’s a plate of food in front of me and there’s a plate in front of her.

She’s made us lunch.

Something simple. Sandwiches with cucumbers and cheese and dill. There’s a salad with cranberries and spinach and something else, I don’t know. I don’t care.

Because, Granger asked me what I do all day.

So I tell her all of that.

I shrug and poke a fork at the green leaf on the plate. “I can’t work at the ministry and I like using my hands,” I shrug and avoid the way her eyes pierce into the walls of my mind. She’s not a Legilimen’s. I know this. But she might as well be something like it. Something worse.

She’s breaking down the walls just by staring at me.

Because, it’s oddly comforting and its unnatural and somehow, Granger’s eyes can peel back the layers of brick I’ve stacked and solidified.

I hate how much she sees with those big, dumb eyes and I hate that I can read her face, too.

She’s let some the cracks in her wall deepen and spread and soon, her bricks will fall because I think if I can touch her, then I can break her.

So, I tell her that I like to paint and that I look through her things.

I tell her about Theo and about breakfast with my parents. I tell her that I do laps around the property. I run and I run until my legs feel like they’re going to detach from my body.

What I don’t tell her is that I spend most of my day thinking about her. What I don't tell is her that I am tired of eating alone. What I don’t tell her, is that I sometimes play with her hair products just so that her scent can linger in my nose.

And I hate it. She’s like this parasite that’s dug itself into my life and it’s feeding off of me. But the weird thing is that I need this parasite, because it makes me something more than before. With this little parasite surviving off of my blood, I am more than nothing. I am something that’s giving a piece of myself and it’s taking and taking but it never gives me anything in return. It’s terrible and I wish she’d disappear. I wish I could wrap my hands around her neck and force her to fade away, as if we never existed.

What I don’t tell her, is that when she is gone, I spend most of my time wishing she was around.

...

The following Saturday, I wake up before Granger. I might not have even fallen asleep. Because, the potions aren’t working anymore. I’m always on edge. I’m always twitching. My mind wont shut up. It’s always chattering and I can never sit still anymore.

So, I paint. I paint this vision in my head that has been slowly building since Granger re-entered my life.

There’s the sun rising over a crowded city, but the buildings are mere specks on the horizon. Because there’s so much smog, so much bullshit in the air that they are barely visible. And the sun is setting over this dirty city and the rays of sun are blending with all of the crap and all of the impurities and all of me as it casts its warm glow over the world.

The blend of gold and brown creates this beautiful shade of topaz.

It reminds me of Granger and her eyes.

She finds me early that morning in the empty white room as I fill one of the walls with color.

“You’re up early.” She says it like I’m some kind of animal who is liable to bite her at any moment.

And I am.

All I do is think about biting her. All I do is think about how terrible it would be if I was to want her. How horrible it could be if I could just bite and suck at her throat and at her perfect tits.

She’s dressed in her stupid baggy sweater and her little blue shorts and as I look over at her, my hand holding a paintbrush at my side, I want to punish her. Because she's never around but she still manages to be everywhere.

With a sigh, I run a hand over my hair, shoving it out of my face before I turn to face her fully.

Her eyes are doing that thing again. As she leans against the doorjamb, her eyes are sweeping over my body. She’s looking at my naked chest, streaked in paint, and the way my pants hang loosely on my hips.

Her walls are weak right now.

“I couldn’t sleep.” I tell her. My eyelids feel heavy as I run my own eyes over her body, up her bare legs, over the way the sweater hangs over her breasts. she isn’t wearing a bra and despite how baggy the thing is, it doesn’t hid the peeked tips of her breasts.

We’re eating each other up with our eyes and the words we’ve exchanged mean nothing at all. And maybe if we just get this consummation out of the way, out of our system, we can go back to hating each other.

But, I’m not sure Granger even hates me. Because she hates my father, and I know, I know, that to be true because the hatred is palpable. When she sees my father meandering around the property, or they cross paths, her buoyant curls seem to come to life with all of the agitated magic that suddenly enteres her system. She turns into some sort of mass generator of energy and it’s all angry and it’s all bad. And it’s all aimed at father.

I need her to tell me what the fuck she is thinking. And I need all of her attention on me.

“What are you doing today?” I ask, tossing my paintbrush onto the floor before I move closer to her. I move, slowly, careful not to scare her off.

She takes a step into the room. She shrugs and pushes a lock of hair behind her ear. “I am going to go to brunch with Harry and Ron.”

That ancient thing inside of me stirs. It feels like an old friend and it’s slowly spreading from the center of my belly, into my chest and out to my limbs.

Granger’s eyes narrow in on me, because I’ve stopped moving. My feet are stuck to the floorboards, my eyes are dead, vacant as the beast takes over.

My teeth clench together as I finally lift my chin and sniff.

“You’re not going anywhere with Weasley.”

“Draco,” She sighs but I cut her off. with the flick of my wrist, the door slams shut and locks.

Granger jumps, startled, and looks to the door before she looks to me, her wide eyes full of fear. She turns to open the door, but it wont budge. She tries some wandless magic, but my hold on the door is firm. And I don’t really know what the fuck I am doing. All I know is that I’m breaking.

I am crumbling into something I don’t recognize and it’s unstoppable. I couldn’t stop this disaster from happening, even if I tried.

Trust me, I know.

“Let me out.” She demands as she turns to glower at me. “Draco, let me out.”

“Shut up.” I hiss, running a hand over my face. “You’re always saying my name. Stop saying my name.”

“Why?” She lifts her chin, defiantly, and it’s too much. Her stubborn chin is taunting me. Her defiance is irritating and it is addicting.

I close the gap between us and I wrap my hands around her throat. But I don’t choke her out, like I dream about. Instead, my fingers are gentle as I cradle her head.

“It does things to me. Why do you do it?”

Granger is trembling and all of her walls are crumbling as her eyes stare up at me with fear and...relief. Tears are quickly gathering and welling up in her eyes and her golden-brown topaz eyes sparkle.

But she says nothing. She just stares up at me, waiting for me to hurt her.

“You’re my wife.” I remind her. “Not Weasley’s.”

Her jaw tightens and she looks guilty and all the more defiant.

“You want him?” I ask her, tilting my head to track my eyes up her face, over her forehead and across her nose. This close up, I can make out all of the little faint freckles that line the bridge of her nose, the curves of her cheeks. There’s some on her forehead, near her hairline that are even fainter. Like those are the newest batch of freckles gifted to her by the sun.

Her voice is rough and quiet. “I don’t know, anymore.”

She’s telling me the truth. So I ask her something else.

“Do you want me?”

Something incredible happens. Grangers shoulders slump as her entire body gives in. Her eyes pinch shut and her lips press together because she is unable to keep her walls up around me. She’s just as helpless as I am.

“Granger,” I bend my knees and peer down into her face. “Do you want me?” If I sound incredulous, it’s because I am.

Because my wife wants me as much as I want her. And the point is, I’ve wanted her for ages. Lifetimes have spanned and in my mind, it's always been her. All I think about is her big, dumb eyes and her rose pink lips and gods, I want her.

I’ve kept this little nugget of gold in my mind, protected. It’s been so heavily guarded that I sometimes forget it’s even there. It’s this tiny little truth that has been so sinful, and such a betrayal to my father, that I've locked it away. It’s just been hiding there, collecting dust and now it’s been exposed and it’s been cleaned off and it’s so bright and shiny, I can on longer ignore it.

“Things are too complicated, Draco.”

There she goes, again.

“Granger,” I’m pushing her back, guiding her body with my hands on her throat and she lets me. She lets me walk my fingers up to her jaw. she lets me force her head back against the door with a thud. “Tell me the truth. Tell me you want me.”

She’s so fragile in my hands, I’m afraid I might break her. I hope that I do.

And I’m all wound up. All of that energy that begs to be let out of my body is slowly releasing itself into her and I can barely breathe. I’m panting and panting, gobbling up bits of oxygen and forcing it out through my mouth before it can even turn into carbon dioxide.

“Draco.” Her lips are trembling, and my hands are shaking and she needs to shut the fuck up, already. She has to stop saying my name like I’m hers.

I can’t wait for her confirmation, anymore. Because she keeps whimpering out my name, like its some sort of an explanation for some sort of terrible deed she has committed. She says it like its exposing the depths of her soul, unwillingly. Like I’m pulling it out of her, slowly and painfully, like bits of stubborn string.

She opens her mouth to say it again and I stop her.

She opens her mouth and I close my own over it. I taste the syllables of my name that are muffled by my lips and my tongue as I kiss her.

My name turns into a whimper and all of my anger turns into a groan and together, our sounds mix together as our mouths mold together.

There is so much heat between our bodies that it feels like a fire. This entire room could be on fire and I couldn’t stop myself from continuing to gobble her up.

Her hands are on my chest, the tips of her little fingers pressing into my skin. She’s desperately trying to hold on as we fall into whatever this is.

This is chaos and bliss all wrapped up into a kiss. Because I’m unstoppable. This is the classic paradox out in the open, exposed for the entire world to witness. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object? And just like the fox and the hound, the gods turn us into static constellations. Which in itself is a paradox because stars are never static. We're great forces of energy that are always shifting.

And we're creating all of this energy that is finally colliding.

And now, I am kissing her like it's the only thing I’ve been needing and I didn’t know. I have just stumbled upon it, and now I’m saved and doomed all at once.

My hands are firm on her jaw, the tips of my fingers digging into her cheeks as I press harder against her body.

I’m going to squeeze her between my body and the door and I’m going to force her into some kind of liquid that my body can absorb and then she will be all mine.

Only mine.

I pull my mouth away, gasping for air. “You’re my wife.” I growl and she responds by pressing her fingernails into the flesh on my chest. “You’re mine.”

“Draco.” She says it again, like a warning.

But I just take it as permission to proceed.

I kiss her again and again and again.

I kiss her until her body grows weak and my arms have to wrap around her waist. they have to hold her up and she’s wrapping her arms around my neck while the tips of her toes drag across the floor as I move her to the center of the room.

Because I need to kiss her forever. I need to pin her to the floor and never let her out of my sight. Because she belongs to me. She was forced to be my wife, forced to take me and I don’t understand how I got so lucky.

Laying her on the floor, I crawl over her and pin her down with my body. My knee is wedged between her thighs and my hands are on her hips as I kiss her again and again.

Again and again, I kiss her while my hands move under that stupidly baggy sweater of hers and I feel the warmth of bare skin at her stomach.

She shudders under my touch and I can tell she’s conflicted. Because she thinks we’re making a huge mistake but how can it be a mistake? She’s mine.

I am hers.

Fuck.

I am hers.

My hands are slowly, greedily, palming her flesh as they make their way up to her breasts.

When my fingers finally graze the swell of them and she arches her back and my eyes are practically rolling into the back of my head as I feel the soft texture, like velvet and they feel like something I’d like to snack on.

“Draco.” She whimpers into my mouth as my thumbs move over her nipples. I want to tease her, torture her. I want to make her pay.

Because no witch should feel this good. Especially not the mudblood I was programmed to hate.

But she owns me, now.

Her lips, her breasts, the warm space between her thighs own me. And I will be forced to obey them and their needs and wants.

And so I rip the sweater off of her, exposing her upper body and I can feel my face crumble. Because it isn’t fair.

It isn’t fair, how lovely she is. It isn’t fair for me to want her as badly as I do.

And the way she looks up at me, needy and desperate and full of confliction? That isn’t fair, either.

But she’s asking me, with her eyes, to take her. She’s asking me to put my mouth to her breast, to run my tongue over her nipples, to pinch them between my teeth as my hand slides up the leg of her shorts. As my fingers sweep taunting strokes against her wet cunt. They’re asking me to pull those stupid little shorts off and to strip off my stupid pants. They’re asking me to pin her down with my hands as my cock slides into her. So that we can sigh and groan with the fucking release and the pressure that are happening and building all at once. Because that is all we need.

Our bodies are crying out to touch and to take all of the tension between us and stuff it into our bodies until we’re wound up tighter and tighter.

Until we finally explode into the sky like stars that grow too hot, that accumulate too much pressure from all of the gases and chemicals that make up the entirety of our universe.

And when we finally explode, we break up into little debris of rock and matter so that a new world can form from all of our broken pieces. And isn’t that all we are? Just bits of energy that also makes up the rest of everything?

And so I do. I take all of my energy and I pour it into her as we fuck like two ancients gods that only know the power of pleasure and pain.

And when we finally fuck until we burn into a supernova that births a new beginning, Granger stares up at the ceiling like she couldn’t believe the inevitable finally happened.

And I stare at her like I might die if I don't somehow find a way to do it again and again. Like it's the thing I've been waiting for, in order to cure this terrible disease that has long ago been afflicted upon me.

Granger is the cure to the illness that has been my life.

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Strike a Deal

cw: manipulation, implied torture, violence, heavily implied noncon, adult language

Wildefire Masterlist (note: this drabble is non-canon as of right now)

•°•°•

After all she'd done to avoid Corp, entering one of their shiniest buildings just felt wrong to Sarah. If she wasn't here to 'work out an agreement’—which she hoped was CEO-speak for ‘we surrender’—she'd sooner brick the windows than set one foot on the polished linoleum.

Annie Rivera, head of Good Knight, was waiting when she arrived on the hundredth floor.

“Spyglass.” She offered a smile warm enough to blow a grandma out of the water, and Sarah had to remind herself that however friendly she seemed, Annie committed all the same atrocities as Uriah. Maybe more. She'd certainly heard this lady was ambitious, and that was CEO-speak for ‘out for blood.’

“I wasn't sure you'd come.”

It had taken a lot of discussion with the others and a lot more internal debating before she'd even considered it. She'd sat on the invitation for days before agreeing to meet. Lately, every little decision set her nerves in a jumble, anxiety firing on full blast, insisting she'd certainly make the wrong choice. Her brain had been working against her for weeks, ever since Lex—

She had to keep from physically recoiling at the thought of him. She was sure he was still alive, everyone was, but no matter how hard they searched, they couldn't find a trace.

Her fault. 

“Wouldn't miss it for the world,” she said.

“We've heard so much about you. Really making ripples out there, huh?” Annie strolled across the room, taking her place behind a huge wooden desk, and gestured to the leather seat across from her. Begrudgingly, Sarah took it.

“You care about people like you. You want to make things better. I think that's admirable.”

Sarah crossed her arms. “Sure. But I have a feeling you didn't call me here to join the cause.”

Annie gave a sympathetic smile, leaning forward on the desk. “Unfortunately, you are correct. I'm all for empowering the Empowered, of course, but you must understand the… safety issues such a movement poses.”

“So cut the niceties and tell me why I'm here.” She'd already known Annie wouldn't help them, but if she was pretending to be empathetic, that was a good sign, right? It meant she wanted Sarah's cooperation with something. 

“Ah. I've called you here to offer you a contract with Good Knight.”

Sarah frowned. “You gotta be shitting me.”

The easy, friendly smile didn't stray from Annie's face. “Not at all. I want you and your compatriots working for me. You'll be granted full protection and full immunity, and every one of you will have privileged positions within the company.”

“Really?” Sarah leaned forward. “And what's the catch?”

“There is no catch,” Annie said. “Of course, if you're Corp assets, continuing your investigation and public campaign would be a conflict of interest, but that's just common sense, isn't it?”

That was about what Sarah’d expected, and it made her feel strangely giddy. Maybe they couldn't stand against Corp directly, but whatever they'd been doing, it was working. Corp was scared enough to try and bribe them into silence. Even if it wasn't the surrender pipe dream she'd come in with, this new knowledge was enough to make the visit worth it.

She returned Annie's smile. “Well, thanks for having me. I had a great time. And I hope I never see you again.” She pushed away from the desk and stood. If there were any traps or underhand moves planned, now was certainly the time they'd be sprung, but she'd be ready. She turned up her hearing, listening for footsteps or motion in the walls. All she heard was the buzz of the lights and a slight rustling behind her.

“Maybe you'd like to hear the rest of my offer before you go.”

Sarah turned around, half expecting the woman to have a gun on her, but she hadn't heard anything. It had just been something light, like a sheet of cardstock or a…

A photograph. Annie had laid a photograph on the desk. It was dark, with a single figure in its center, staring at the camera with hollow eyes.

Lex.

Her stomach dropped, and she stumbled forwards, catching herself on the desk, gripping its edge for support. He was alive, Lex was alive, but the joy she felt was undercut by how awful he looked.

Lex’s cybernetics were gone. His head has been shaved, and she could see dozens of injuries scattered across his bare torso. He looked drained; like whoever’d had him for these last weeks had siphoned away all his energy, all his… him. He'd lost so much weight she couldn't say if they'd fed him at all, and his complexion was ashen and lifeless.

But the worst part was his eyes. That empty, defeated look. The wildflower purple seemed to have been drained away with the rest of him, faded to a dull bruised color.

“I found him deep in the bowels of the Tower. Nasty place.”

The Tower. He'd already been through so much bullshit there and Corp had just thrown him back inside.

“I could show you worse if you're still not convinced,” Annie said, pulling another photo from a desk drawer.

“Don't—” Sarah started as she laid it down, but this one wasn't nearly as brutal. It was Lex, curled up on a bed in a sterile-looking cell. There was a blanket draped over him. He looked almost peaceful.

“What is..?”

“I fished him out of hell for you,” Annie said. “Whether his treatment gets better or worse from here is up to you.”

Sarah fell back into the chair, trying to get her thoughts to fall in line and shut up so she could act rationally. It was impossible. They wouldn't stop screaming his name.

“How…” She clasped her hands in her lap. “How do I know you actually have him? That… that this isn't some trick?”

“Thought you might say that.” Annie withdrew a tablet, hitting a button before sliding it over. As soon as Sarah's eyes landed on the screen, she froze, her hand flying to her mouth. It was… it was Lex. Lex with the shit beat out of him, held up only by a hand on his head, angling a bruised and swollen face towards the camera. His breathing was shallow and uneven, his eyes unfocused. The timestamp in the corner was for October 5th. Two days ago.

She'd sat on the invitation for days. If she hadn't been indecisive, if she'd acted sooner…

Onscreen, the guy holding Lex  gave him a shake.

“Hey. Camera's rolling. Talk to her.”

He blinked. “Sa…Spyglass.”

Ice seemed to encase her lungs.

“Don't listen to them. D-don’t do what they want.” He took a shaky breath, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “I… keep fighting. You have to keep fighting. I…” He blinked furiously, sending a tear rolling down his bruised cheek. “I love you.”

“Okay, that's enough.”

Whoever was holding him shoved him away roughly, and Sarah's stomach twisted as he hit the ground. The camera followed him down, kept rolling as the other man stomped after him, cut to black just as he pulled back his foot for a kick.

“Fuck you,” she whispered as Annie pulled the tablet back across the table.

“Have I convinced you yet?” the other woman asked in a casual tone, not even meeting Sarah's eyes as she fiddled with the tablet.

“Fuck you!”

“You didn't answer my question.”

Sarah clenched her fists, pushing her knuckles into her thighs with enough force it would probably leave a bruise.

I love you.

Lex… She couldn't walk away from him, not now. She never should've left him. She should've told Akeela to run and stayed with him to fight, maybe then…

Maybe then you'd both be in there. Listening to each other scream.

“Let him go.”

“That's not the deal.”

Her nails dug into her palms. “And how do I know you're being honest? How do I know you haven't already killed him?”

Annie cracked a smile at that. “Guess you don't, do you? But do you really want to make that wager?”

“You said you fished him out of hell.”

“Never said I put him anywhere better.”

She pushed the tablet forwards once more. On the frozen screen, Lex was bent over the same sterile bed from the photograph, a person hunched over him, a few others flanking them. At first, it looked like he was just being pinned down. For a frisking or… or something. But then Annie hit play, and the figure above him began to move. 

It took all of a second for Sarah to snatch the tablet and hurl it at the wall. It bounced off, looking relatively unharmed as it hit the ground.

“That was uncalled for.”

“I'll kill you.”

Annie raised an eyebrow. “And what happens to poor Alexei if I'm not around to order them to stop?”

“Stop?” Her lungs were tight.

“That last one…” She extended a neatly trimmed fingernail towards the tablet. “It's a live feed.”

Fuck. Sarah was on her feet, made it halfway to the tablet before stopping cold. She wrapped her arms around herself, squeezing.

“If I agree to your terms… you'll call them off?”

“Immediately.”

“And if I don't?”

Annie shrugged. “Guess they'll stop when the body goes cold.”

Sarah's head dropped. All the triumph and excitement she'd felt just moments ago was gone. They could never win, could they? Corp kept finding a way, kept proving there was no low they wouldn't stoop to in order to keep the status quo.

“I accept. Now stop them. Please.”

Annie casually reached for the phone on her desk, punched in a number. “That's enough on Cinder. We've reached an understanding.”

Sarah scrambled for the tablet, falling to her knees and flipping it face-up, needing to be sure. Thankfully, the others in the cell were backing away, leaving Lex in place, motionless.

“Let me see him,” she murmured. Even just for a moment. He had to know he wasn't alone. She'd get him out, she had to.

“That wasn't part of the deal,” Annie said coolly. “But once you get the rest of your rogues in here, I'll consider it.”

Akeela and Hugo and Rosie… she'd promised she'd keep them safe, and she'd practically delivered them into the clutches of another Corporate power. But what choice did she have when Annie had Lex by the throat?

“You made the right decision,Spyglass.” Annie was beside her. Slender fingers gripped the edge of the tablet, pulling it out of Sarah’s grasp. Lex hadn’t moved; the image of him slumped over the bed—exhausted, hurt, alone—was burned into the back of her eyelids, lingering long after Annie turned off the device. It couldn't be the last image she had of him. She'd do anything to keep this from being the last time she'd see him.

“We'll take good care of you.”

•°•°•

@whumpacabra @enteredin2eternity @kixngiggles @whumpsday @kiichu @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @shywhumpauthor

@distinctlywhumpthing , @bloodinkandashes , @fleur-alise , @whumpy-daydreams , @whumpwillow

, @honeycollectswhump ,

[xoxo-sarah]

Can you do a fic where reader has a disorganized attachment style in relationships and robin is confused why reader is always acting weird and like reader says “don’t go away but don’t get to close please”

Disorganized Attachment

↝a/n: I didn't even know what that was, so I went to Google. Sorry if I wrote it wrong, I really tried. Also sorry I wrote this more of a head cannon(?), it was rushed and I didn't know how to write a full one-shot. If you enjoy this, I can try on the one-shot...maybe. feedback is appreciated. Call me out if I wrote this wrong!

↝pairing: Robin Buckley x fem!reader

↝ warning: disorganized attachment relationship(?), angst, negative thoughts, confused Robin, idk

↝⎙ 6.21.23

Robin wasn't really sure what your relationship was... honestly. It had just happened one day.

You two met, went to see a movie, continued meeting up, kissed for the first time. And it seemed like the relationship started there. There wasn't any actual 'hey, will you be my girlfriend?' or anything. But It's not like she minded. She adored you from the minute you met.

But as the days grew, she started noticing the little things you do. Like, how you would just look at her with such adoration, and then the next second, as if someone whispered something bad about her in your head, you looked at her with uncertainty, distancing yourself.

She had asked you about it early on, but you brushed it off.

Robin also took notice of your anxiety and how you deal with it. Out in public, she could see how it affected you, noticing how you would constantly look at her to make sure she was around, but never holding onto her to make sure she never left your side.

When you two got further into the relationship, it was like whiplash for her.

When going to sleep, she wasn't sure what to do. Touch wasn't your thing, but it was hers. She respected you though. She knew you wanted her close, just not too close. What she didn't know was that you wanted her to be so close but the thought of her leaving and never being there for you ever again clouded your mind every second. It was scary to love someone and have the daunting thought that they'll leave in your head constantly. But you were not going to tell her that, absolutely not. Openly discussing your feelings and fears was like willing them into existence.

So you kept these fears to yourself.

A little over half a year into the relationship, Robin had had enough.

"Look, I get it. I get you don't want to open up, but I need you to. For our relationship. I can't keep dating a brick wall." And just like she knew you would, you brushed it off. On the outside, it looked like you didn't care. But you did. Maybe a little too much..

The house was silent, just Robin staring at you as you looked down, keeping your eyes on the floor. "Please talk to me." You hated how her voice was pleading. It wasn't fair to her.

So you opened up, despite your brain telling you to stop.

As cliche as it sounds, your brain was keeping you protected, while also being the one to make up these terrible thoughts, while your heart ached for her. For her touch.

Robin wiped at your tears anytime they rolled down your soft cheeks; expressing your feelings and emotions was difficult. Especially when you avoid it for so long. It starts eating at you.

But Robin would be there.

Every negative thought, she'd be there to shoo it away, replacing it with compliment after compliment.

Going out, she'd stay close, maybe having a hand on the bottom of your back, or hooking her pinky with yours.

Bed time calls for her being close, but not too close. You two would lay facing each other, taking.in every imperfect perfection.

She saw the love you had for her in your eyes and in your actions. She didn't need you to constantly be cuddling or telling her how much you loved her to feel the love.

It would take a little while for her to have you gain control over your feelings and communication. But you get there eventually, or however close you need to get. She'd push you out of your comfort bubble, only because she knew you could deal with it.

•2021-2024 by xoxo-sarah on Tumblr•

•My work is not to be translated, copied, modified, and/or reposted on any other site without my permission. [!I don't give permission!]

[plumsfromyouricebox]

lolol i did it

mike wheeler x max mayfield - 1.2k words

rating: T

summary: in which Max tries to break up with Mike and he’s having none of it.

***

East Hallway Alcove, Hawkins High School, Hawkins, Indiana

“…so, yeah,” Max finished, trying to keep her voice steady as she stared down at her shoes, toes dragging across aged beige linoleum. “Six months was a good run, but I think we’re better off as just friends.”

Her chest felt tight. Getting over him was going to hurt like a bitch, but it was better in the long run. She didn’t fit into his perfect, cookie-cutter life. It hadn’t worked with Lucas, so she wasn’t sure why she’d let herself think it was going to be any different with Mike. He would have realized it himself sooner or later.

There was a heavy silence. She held her breath as she prepared herself for his reaction; for anger or resigned acceptance or even tears.

What she was not prepared for, however, was the matter-of-fact, almost flippant way in which he said, “No.”

“No?” She raised her head sharply. He had a look on his face of mild disappointment as if she’d just told him she didn’t believe in evolution.

Mike shook his head. “We’re not breaking up.”

“What? It–it’s not a two-way street, Wheel–”

“I know what you’re doing, Max. This is all because dinner with my parents was less than stellar and my mom made that asshole comment about the trailer park so now you’re doing your whole self-sabotaging thing and pushing me away,” he said dismissively.

“Well, I’m not letting you.” He shrugged. “So, yeah, breakup declined.”

Max leapt to her feet from the bench they were sitting on, ignoring the fact that he’d just verbalized exactly what she was feeling.

Who the hell did he think he was? He wasn’t allowed to just brush her off like that.

“That’s not– You can’t–”

Mike stood as well, using his height to loom over her. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t want this anymore.”

Her hands clenched into fists as she forced herself to meet his gaze. “I don’t.”

Something in her expression must have given her away because he simply tilted his head to the side, brow furrowed. “Maxine. You’re being ridiculous.”

Max bristled at the patronizing use of her full name. “I’m being ridiculous? You’re the one trying to refuse a breakup like it’s a letter of resignation!”

“Because this isn’t what you want.”

“Oh, you think it’s so unbelievable that I don’t want to be your girlfriend anymore?” She scoffed. “Conceited prick.”

“Pathetic coward,” he shot back.

“Presumptuous asshole.”

“Crazy bitch.”

A crack echoed out around the small alcove as her palm connected with the side of his face. Mike blinked and snapped his head forward, expression unreadable.

Clutching her stinging hand, Max backed away from him, shocked at what she’d just done. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. He just always knew exactly how to provoke her.

He stepped closer, seemingly unfazed by the bright red mark blooming across his cheek. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I don’t want to be with you!” she insisted, taking another step back in an attempt to keep some distance between them. But Mike just followed, not letting her.

“That’s not the reason,” he said calmly, stepping closer still. “Tell me.”

Her heart beat faster as she racked her brain, trying to think of what else she could say to convince him.

“Because I don’t love–”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Her back hit the brick wall as Mike continued crowding her, heat radiating off of his body. She raised her hands to shove him away but he was faster, grabbing her wrists and pinning them next to her head.

He bent down so they were face to face. “Max.”

Her tear ducts burned as she struggled against his hold, refusing to meet his eyes. Why was he making this so hard? “Let me go.”

“No. Not until you tell me why you’re doing this.”

“Because I–” She squeezed her eyes shut, feeling her resolve break. “I don’t want you to realize I’m not good enough for you!”

His lips descended onto hers, silencing the surprised squeak that escaped her throat. Damn him, Max thought as her mouth automatically softened beneath his. She couldn’t pretend that she didn’t love this. And he knew that, the cocky bastard.

Mike released her wrists, sliding his hands up to interlace their fingers. Their tongues slid languidly together, sending a torrent of sparks throughout her entire being. Their bodies pressed flush together as they nipped and sucked at each other’s lips, and she was suddenly very glad it was after school and there was nobody else in the hallway.

“You’re a dick,” she sniffled when they finally broke apart to catch their breath.

“I know,” Mike said, resting his forehead against hers. “But I’m a dick who loves you more than anything, okay? You think you’re not good enough for me?”

He huffed out a laugh. “Max, I ask myself every day what you see in me. These past six months have been the best of my life. Trust me, if one of us is ending up with a broken heart here, it’s not gonna be you.

“You make me so insanely happy, and I think I make you happy too. So please don’t ruin this just because you’re scared.”

Max blinked back tears as she stared into those dark, earnest eyes she loved so much. She wanted to believe him. She wanted to believe that the universe was finally allowing her to be happy. But it was terrifying how deeply he’d already burrowed into her heart.

If he ever got tired of her and decided to end things she wasn’t sure she could handle the pain.

“If us being over is what you really, truly want then I’ll accept that.” He let go of her hands and pressed his own against the wall on either side of her, caging her in. “So, is it?”

She shook her head wordlessly, somewhat embarrassed by how transparent she’d apparently been. Or maybe he just knew her that well.

“Okay.” He kissed her forehead and tugged lightly on one of her braids before pushing off the wall, digging around in his pocket for his car keys. “Let’s go to the mall. I’ll buy you Dippin’ Dots.”

Max blinked as she watched him start down the hall. She felt glued to the wall, still bewildered at how he’d so easily derailed the plan she’d been agonizing over for days. And now he just… wanted to go to the mall? Like nothing had even happened?

Then again, everything had been easy between them since they’d started dating, much to the surprise of their friends who were certain they were far too similar to ever work as a couple.

But what Max had realized was that it was because she and Mike were so alike that they knew their little fights were never serious, that the names they called each other came from a place of playful affection rather than malice. Being with him was just… really fun.

And she didn’t want it to end.

He glanced back, flashing her that dreamy smile that always made her heart skip a beat as he held out his hand. “You coming?”