#i'm trying not to freak out but there's that thing that your brain can't tell the difference between fiction and reality so i'm going insan

[patchworkcuddlebug]

Humanity

[CW: Passive suicidal ideation.]

Being a person feels... heavy. Like I'm always full of something. It didn't have to be gross, but it usually was. Sometimes it was something with an easy word to it, like disdain or cowardice, but usually it was more vague. Some sort of congealed, disgusting mass that's been slowly accumulating for as long as I've been alive, weighing my guts down until I'm too stressed to eat and too tired to sleep.

I don't want to die. Death sounds too painful, and I'm scared of commitment. But, as I looked out into the bay, waiting for the traffic on the toll bridge to advance, I can't help but daydream. If I drove into the river, just by some freak accident out of my control, I... wouldn't do much to fight it. I would just let whatever happens happen as I sit still. Let this heaviness in my chest weigh me down and drown me.

My whole life was like that, really. Just moment after moment of letting things out of my control happen to me. My parents never really let me do much, either because we didn't have money, or they decided it wasn't right. I had to move out young after they died, and that didn't give me much of a choice in where to work and where to rent. I didn't even have a chance to think about what my major would've been.

Being a waitress meant doing what you're told when you're told, which table to go to and what to bring them, and what to clean. The work itself was fine, it's just... everything around it. The same awful people just as trapped here as I am, the same inconsiderate boss that barely pays me enough to buy vegetables, the same disgusting smell of fish and chips, all building up and coagulating little by little.

The only way I could get through an average work day was by shutting my brain off and just letting my body move on its own. The years I've worked there have just been the same fog of meaningless obedience. It's a sort of torture, suppressing your ego all just to become your work, for the sake of people you hate. Just feeling full and heavy and gross.

That's how I survived most of my life. Ever since I started school, I learned quick that you keep your head down and go with the flow. Don't be too loud, too big, too anything. Just look pretty and do what you're told without thinking too hard about what you're doing. Try not to feel too much.

Of course dying isn't that big of a deal. I don't feel like I was ever truly alive, ever something that could really be called a person.

Oh, I'm home.

God it's so cold out. It's like the wind is trying to bite me through my coat. I really wish our heating worked, but I've given up trying to fight for it a long time ago.

I can hear the music from here. I swear to fucking god if she's throwing another party I'm going to scream. She can't keep doing this, she really can't.

I fumble with my keys because it's too cold in the hallway, and I struggle with the lock because it hasn't been replaced in over a decade. This is the right key, and I keep trying to turn it, but it won't unlock and my fingers are starting to hurt.

Today needs to end. Please. I just need to stop, after everything, I just need things to stop and let me be still for a single fucking-

Finally.

I leave the door open for as little time as I can. I don't even take my coat off before I march into the living room. She's there, on the couch with more friends than I've ever met. They're all smiling, talking with each other, and having fun. They're smoking weed inside.

I need to stop looking at the one sitting on the arm of the couch, she's not important right now.

"Hey, what the fuck?!" I raise my voice to be heard over the music and drunken ramblings. "I told you that you can't keep doing this, I'M the one who gets in shit for this with the landlord!"

She looked around her, gauging her guests' reactions. She forces a timid smile. "Hey, you don't have to make a big deal out of this, alright? Nothing's gonna happen if nobody tells on us, so just relax." She turns away from me, back to the others. To the woman on the arm of the couch. My roommate falls into this sort of drunken fawning, trying to excuse my behaviour, but that woman on the arm of the couch doesn't join in with them exaggeratedly rolling their eyes or shooing me away.

"I'm not the bad guy here! You're the one who keeps...!" I wince, bringing a hand over my eyes as I recoil into the door frame. It's so loud. "Fuck it, I can't do this with you, I'm going to bed." I turn and leave and slam my door and lock it. She turns the music back up. I'm ordering food and going to sleep.

After I stop crying.

. . . . .

"Do you like your life, darling?"

I'm floating. I'm naked. I can't tell where I am. I don't think I'm anywhere.

"...No."

The woman from earlier. I couldn't stop thinking about her all night. The way she looked, how she carried herself, it was just stuck in my brain.

She's so... big. She's towering over me. I'm like a toy, barely up to her shins.

This isn't a dream. She's there. I can feel her in front of me, almost more real than being awake. I've never been more lucid before.

"Such a poor thing..." She looks so sad. For me?

She's kneeling. "Let me take all that hurt away. I've always wanted nothing more than to help someone like you live the life they deserve." I should be scared. I shouldn't trust her. "I already know you'd make such a good doll~"

I look down at my body. It's fluctuating, moving in and out as I look at myself. My torso is flat and wooden like a marionette, but with each breath in it expands with cloth instead of skin. I can feel the seems of my stitches, the plastic of my joints, the clattering of my porcelain, all at once. It feels... welcome.

She's reaching for me. I know I should flinch, I should be scared of her crushing me as she wraps her hands around me like a doll, but I can't even remember what such a distrust would feel like. She's pulling me to eye level.

Why does her touch feel so... nice?

I feel a breach, like I've just come up for air. I can feel my soul hack and sputter, and finally begin to breathe. I've never felt so light, so emptied. Everything disgusting inside of myself was drained away. Have I been drowning all this time?

"Meet me whenever you're ready, darling." I know where she means. I see her manor, grand and sprawling, but tucked away just out of sight. I can see it so perfectly. "I'll be waiting for you there."

Her hands start to loosen, and I start to fall, further and further away from Miss.

I inhale sharply, way too deeply, as I wake up. It feels like I'm gasping for air. My whole body... hurts is the wrong word, there's a heavy rawness pulsating through me. It's not the heaviness normally in my chest. I'm in a puddle of sweat. I can feel my heartbeat behind my eyes.

My phone says it's 4:37 am. I don't care. I need to see her.

. . . . .

It's a blur. I'm on autopilot, too wired to think. This doesn't feel like before, this isn't the fog. This is pure intention.

I find myself in my car, driving to her. I know where to go, I know. I need to get there. I can't afford to waste any time.

I leave my car parked on a dirt road and wander into the forest just as the sun starts to rise. I didn't bother grabbing anything I didn't need to get here, and I left what i did grab in the car anyway. I didn't even take the keys out of the ignition. Whatever happens, I'm not coming back.

It's a few minutes of walking from the road to her manor. I have plenty of time to reconsider. It's not too late to go back. I'm afraid, of course. My self-preservation is trying to restrain me by my neck. But every time I think about giving into that fear, that complacency stopping me from stepping into the unknown, the idea of returning to what was... I keep walking. I couldn't explain why. Too much momentum, too heavy to bother stopping.

I'm here. Oh god, this is really happening. I lean against the house on an outstretched arm as I stare at the front door. It's thick and wooden, like something from a fairy tale. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and raise a fist. She opens the door before I can knock.

This is really happening.

"Oh, I'm so happy you came, darling!" She quickly reaches an arm around me and ushers me through the door. "And so quick, too! I knew I made the right choice."

She sits me down on the couch and disappears just a room away. Before I can even admire the decor, she returns with two glasses, and a jug of iced tea. She sits down beside me, pours herself a glass, and sets the jug out of my reach.

She takes a swig of her drink, leaning back and swirling it in her cup. She stretches her arm across the back of the couch. I could cuddle up to her so easily, and I've never before felt this tempted to do that with someone. "Tell me what you know about dolls."

I feel something I've never felt before. Just a little, just enough.

"U-uh..." I try to gather everything I can. I don't know why I'm so caught off guard by the question, I came here for a reason. But saying it out loud, actually articulating these feelings, is something totally foreign.

"A doll is like a person, but... not." I take a deep breath. I feel like I'm standing in front of a stadium of thousands. "Witches use their magic to turn people into dolls so they can have servants. And... there are rules to being a doll, like how you have to call yourself an object, and do everything you're told."

I look at her for approval. She's waiting for me to continue. "Am I gonna be a doll?"

The witch almost... melts. She has such a kind, compassionate smile. She sets her drink down and turns her body to face me as much as she can. "Do you want to be a doll, darling?"

"I... I mean, I, uh..." I have never felt more like prey. Why is my face so warm? I'd do anything for her.

She reaches out and takes my hands, that I was holding up to my chest defensively. I leave them limp, just letting her grab them. I feel my shoulders start to lower just a little bit. She's so warm.

"Dolls are empty spaces shaped like people." She teaches me. "Dolls are objects that are obedient and docile. There's a special feeling they have called stillness, where your thoughts go away and you just feel happy." She starts to smile, a tender eagerness. "Can you feel it now?"

I feel it. I feel it. I feel it, I feel it. The stillness. She's making me still. It's gone. I don't feel heavy. I'm empty in such a wonderful way. I feel like I could float through the breeze for the rest of my life and be perfectly happy. Like I could do anything, and I would be happy. Is this what life was supposed to feel like? All this time?

"It's a big decision, darling." Her voice is so... magical. It's calming, it's exciting, it's everything to me. "This can only happen if you want it to. Think about your old life, everything you'll leave behind. This is your last chance."

I think about being a human. I think about everything that comes with being a human, the things I'll lose. My autonomy, my identity, things I was never granted in the first place. The privilege of destroying my self just a little every day, all to save myself the trouble of feeling. More than anything, that disgusting heavy feeling, the filth so deeply compacted inside me I thought it was inherent to being.

"Y... y-yes... yes, I want to be a doll!" I'm smiling so wide. Crying hasn't felt this good in a long, long time.

The witch smiles back at me. She pulls me into her, hugging me so tenderly. She's soft, and warm, and so many things.

"You're going to become such a good doll."

Good doll. I can finally feel good.

[batbrainrot]

guys please tell me those batman #148 leaks of jason dying again are fake. tell me they're fake right fucking now i can't fucking do this shit right now i'm off my meds

[mako-island-moon-pool]

You want to know how bad my memory is?

I was writing last night and I just straight up forgot that Sanji exists. I have been watching this show since 2012, he was my fave Strawhat outside of Luffy pre-TS, and I FORGOT HE EXISTED.

I was like 'hm yes well the ones who would understand are Nami and Robin... W- wasn't there one more I was thinking of a moment ago? Wasn't there another one who'd Get It?????'

'it's not Chopper. Definitely not Usopp. And it's not Zoro. That's all the remaining Strawhats at this point in the story. So... Why am I convinced I'm forgetting someone? Let's go through the arcs in my head agai- OH MY GOD, I FORGOT SANJI'

[loverboybrightsideghost]

computer define underdog

[simonbrain]

love the idea of reader just trying to fuck all her stress out with a random at the bar before returning back to her mundane life, and simon deciding he's going to keep her instead 🙂‍↕️

the prick doesn't budge when you try to kick him out; instead, he drags you back into bed and works his mouth to loosen you up again, and now you've forgotten why you were trying to haul his ass out of your home.

(you attempted to sound stern while telling him to get out of your house, but he merely chuckled, the sound so raspy and condescending that it stroked a heat within you that you thought was sated last night.

"this is our home. now get your arse back in bed, i'm fuckin' hungry.")

you had to really fist at his hair to pull him off of you, and that only turned him on if the deep groan rumbling out of him was anything to go by—you swear his tongue sunk deeper inside you. he only relented so he could fuck you dumb in the shower after, leaving you with trembling legs and feeling more dirty than clean (atta girl, don't you waste any of tha'—keep it all in).

you blink, and now suddenly you're seated as he spoon-feeds you a nice, hearty breakfast, huffing something like messy girl when toast crumbs get all over your face and the wooden table.

words can't express how flustered you are; you're too stunned to even continue telling the big man who's now feeding you scrambled eggs that he needs to leave. all you feel like you're capable of doing is opening your mouth to accept another spoonful, ignoring the ache you feel between your thighs when you catch his heavy stare and hear a low hum of approval.

then he's leaving (and it's not because of your nagging), muttering something about having to work those mutts to the bone today, all while you're trying to make sense of what's happening. he gives you a sloppy kiss to silence your questions and exasperation, one that makes you feel hot all over and almost melt into a puddle had it not been for the firm grip he had on your ass.

he licks his lips when he pulls back, eyes darting to where your shirt just barely covers where he'd rather be all day than having to go and train recruits. he stares for an uncomfortably long time and before you can speak up, face growing a little hot from the tension, he's turning around to finally leave.

before the door shuts, he says, "be a good girl, ay? see you tonight, birdie."

you're left with your thoughts and feelings of dread and anxiety. there definitely isn't any underlying interest or anything; the freak has fucked your brain out of your head, that's all. you're sure he didn't even mean it anyway. maybe. hopefully.

a drop of his come rolls down your thigh, and arousal shame burns through you. since when did you let one-night stands finish in you?

(your so-called one-night stand came home hungry and pissed, so worked up that he dragged you over to the nearest surface and played with you for a good hour. by the time you had half the mind to tell him about the dinner in the oven—your eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets at how much money he had sent you for groceries earlier, nevermind how he got ahold of your account details—he grunted and finally gave your poor pussy a break, scarred mug all slick and flushed.)

good luck when he takes you to meet his mates at the bar a week later, the same bar you brought him home from; the comments from them make you wish a hole in the ground would just swallow you right up.

"pretty thing ye caught, lt," johnny grins, a mischievous gleam in his eyes. he's a bit over the top, ogles your chest too hard, but overall he's... alright. you'd probably notice how perverted he really was if you actually looked at him longer than a few fleeting glances, but his stare is kind of unnerving.

kyle—perfection personified—hums in agreement, a warm smile on his face that puts you at ease. somehow you don't pick up on the ulterior motive behind his gaze running over your body, eyes roaming over your chest more discreetly than johnny but just as appreciative. "pretty indeed. you don't mind sharing, do you ghost?" kyle teases, pretty eyes glancing over at simon, who only huffs at that and shakes his head (much to your confusion).

who the fuck is ghost? you only know big guy and simon.

there's a deep chuckle and your focus flits over to the man seated in front of you, captain john price. if you thought simon was scary, john's a man who demands respect and attention just by being in his presence. "you chose the wrong dog to bring home," john hums, voice deep and gravelly and making you shamefully squeeze your thighs together.

"but that's alright, sweetheart. you have three others now, yeah?" the purr that comes out of his mouth is sinful, and when you nod and stammer out a yes, sir as if you were one of his soldiers and not the sweet girl that simon has brought to his captain, looking for approval of his newest toy, he only smiles.

simon's hand squeezes your thigh underneath the table, trailing upwards, and you're slowly understanding what it is that you've gotten yourself into.

[chuluoyi]

LOVER'S QUARREL

- fushiguro megumi x reader

“i can't do this anymore.” you and megumi are just too different; he's stoic, you're bubbly, he prefers solitude, you love being social. it starts with fights, words you don't mean, and ends with an event that would haunt him for a long time to come.

genre/warnings: angst, breaking up, post-breakup feelings, mentions and description of injury and blood, hurt/comfort, fluff in the end (you make up!)

note: dear god i’m finally getting this out of my drafts. loosely inspired by real life events i’ve seen around my friend’s relationship sooo it might hurt a bit 🤏🏻 but who can say no to angst to eventual fluff? tagging @lees-chaotic-brain and @kasumitenbaz (as per request in the ask!), you two are always here for my megumi works, thank you!! :3 and thank you for dropping by for the event!

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Everyone pointed it out as a joke, that you liked him way more than he did you.

And you used to never let it ruffle you. To you, Megumi’s sternness and silence meant that he was comfortable with you. You never wanted him to change his ways just because now you were seeing each other.

But when you thought it over now, as you stood before him with an aghast expression and knives stabbing your kind, soft heart, you couldn’t help but do a double-take.

You were the one who confessed first. Most of the time, you were the one who initiated dates. You always texted him first, asking about his day, and even when he brushed you off, you would keep being this ball of sunshine and wished him a good day.

You never realized it before… that through everything, it has always been you. Unfailingly.

So how dare he spout this now?

“I can't do this anymore.”

"You... can't?" you spat out, feeling the first tendrils of anger course through you. "What exactly it is that you can't do? What do you even mean?"

"Look," Megumi stared at you squarely, and you thought now, that it was the coldest of eyes, straight and true. "It's always been like this between us lately. It's only right that we end this."

This, he said. He didn't even want to define your relationship anymore.

You scoffed. "And why do you think we always end up this way? Have you ever considered, even once, that it's because you make no effort at all?"

"I'm trying," Megumi quickly replied, almost in a hiss, and you almost recoiled. "But I just see that we'll end up nowhere, that's why I'm bringing this up now."

Oh, that freaking hurts. You boyfriend had just told you that this relationship would go nowhere. Right in your face.

Your eyes stung with tears, yet you fought to hold them back, fixing your gaze on the lamp overhead and inhaling deeply.

"You're... selfish," you stated, filled with ire. "You're always walking around eggshells around me, never telling me what is it that you really want—"

Megumi's unclouded eyes fixed on your trembling form. "We just disagree on a lot of things. You know it and it bothers you. It bothers me too. Rather than forcing our relationship, I think it's better—"

"It's always me!" you yelled then, lips quivering and eyes watering, unable to hold your emotions back any longer. "All dates, lunches—everything!" you locked your eyes with him, in mocking disbelief. "How can you say you're trying when, in truth, I'm the one putting in so much for us?!"

In that very second, Megumi thought that he hated seeing you like this. You were supposed to be the cheerful one in this relationship, and when he agreed to go out with you, he made an unspoken commitment to himself that he would at least not make you miserable.

And yet...

"...I'm sorry."

Came his reply, and you were sure that this was it.

And to rub the salt in your wound, he added, "I can't lie to you and say I haven't thought this for a while too."

As tears welled within you, you wondered and questioned what you lacked that led to this. However, the overwhelming sense of betrayal consuming your thoughts ultimately prevailed over any other emotions.

Now he could've appeared before you as a stranger and you wouldn't bat an eye, as the cold steel in his tone said, "And if blaming me is what it takes to make you feel better, then so be it."

You couldn't pinpoint the source of your sudden boldness, but in the next hot minute, you marched past him, your shoulder harshly colliding with his in a deliberate, almost spiteful manner—which, indeed, was your intention—and then you ran.

Which led to the next scene: you found yourself bawling your eyes out in the girls' lavatory.

Yuji and Nobara saw everything unfolding right before their eyes. They hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but you and Megumi were literally breaking up right the middle of their shared classroom, and it was hard not to follow the discourse until the end.

"Are you okay?" Nobara had come to your side, ensuring privacy by locking the restroom door out of your consideration. You were a sobbing mess, attempting to wipe the overflowing tears away while letting out all your emotions.

"He's..." Your voice faltered amid sobs as you gazed at your steadfast friend, your throat clogging up. "He said... he's been wanting t-to... break up with m-me..."

"That's okay, that's okay..." Nobara brought you to her arms, patting your back in reassurance. "Fushiguro is insensitive like that... don't cry over him now. He's just a wimp, okay?"

"Why is it me?" you asked her, voice brittle, still shaking with tears. "I t-tried everything! Being the supportive girlfriend..."

"If he can't appreciate what you did, then the problem lies with him," your friend stated, traces of irritation brewing in her resolute gaze. And as she firmly grasped your wrist, her next words resonated. "Not you."

. . .

"Do you really have to break her heart like that?" Yuji fidgeted with his hoodie, staring at his best friend with a blend of confusion and sympathy.

Megumi sighed, finally ruffling his hair into a mess, as if expressing his own state of mind. “This is for the best.”

Yuji’s eyebrows visibly creased. “How is this ‘for the best’? She’s miserable, and you…” he assessed him, scanning him from head to toe, “it doesn’t seem you’re faring any better too.”

“The longer she is with me, the unhappier she will be.” Megumi glanced at the bathroom’s direction. “She can deserve better.”

He was always too quiet, too boring, not able to match your energy too. He couldn’t fault you for expecting more, whereas he was just not exactly built for your expectations.

Megumi really thought he wanted it to end. At one point, it even felt like a chore, but…

How strange. Why did it feel like something was clawing at his chest?

Time heals. Megumi knew that by theory, but he really did see it firsthand when he saw you all giggling and happy again three weeks after he initiated the breakup.

With Hakari.

“Yo, what are you glaring at?” Panda asked, but Megumi didn’t pay him any mind.

An upperclassman, Hakari Kinji, was naturally cool and talented. He was laid back, knew how to have fun—all in all, a total opposite of Fushiguro Megumi altogether.

Three weeks. It’s only been three weeks since then.

“Megumi?”

Wait… Aren’t three weeks too fast to get over your ex?

“Megumi!”

“Huh?” he turned to the sentient panda with a jerk. “Oh, what is it?”

He looked at him with a concerned gaze. "Why do you look so scary? It's almost as if you're about to punch someone..."

But who was he to argue? He had no right to be upset now.

"Is it Kinji?" Panda gasped, finally putting two and two together when he followed his line of sight. "Oh Megumi... but you—"

"Just shut up, please," he blurted then, a hint of annoyance in his tone. With that, Panda didn't pursue it further, leaving him with his thoughts.

From where he was at the field, he could clearly see your radiant smile for Hakari. It was clear that the two of you shared a degree of friendship, but Megumi never knew that you two were that close.

...huh?

Why did the sight irritate him so suddenly? Why did his chest twinge again?

What a fool. You're the one driving her away, you idiot.

Suddenly these memories popped up one by one—

Of you suddenly hugging him from behind in an attempt to surprise him.

How he pressed his lips on the crown of your head when you fall asleep on his shoulder.

How you would give him that dopey smile when he pulled you close.

But on harder days after missions gone wrong, he’d ignore you altogether— the slight disappointment in your smile then. How your expression fell when he told you to go. How you slumped and looked back in hopes of him changing his mind.

“Haaaah.” Megumi turned away, unwilling to keep watching you any longer. Why? Why hadn’t it occurred to him before now?

Why did he long for you now? Why not before, when you were still his?

They were right. It seems people tend to desire what isn't meant for them.

What could have been more painfully awkward than being sent into a mission with your ex-boyfriend?

You would kill Gojo for this. Or at least give him the lowest possible score in his teaching evaluation for the year. How could he? Your breakup was an infamous public spectacle, so this setup was undoubtedly intentional!

You were losing your head over this, and yet your ex-boyfriend...

"Keep your guard up," Megumi reminded curtly, in a warning tone. He looked as vigilant and straight as always, as if he wasn't even bothered.

You threw him a dirty look, offended. "You don't have to tell me twice."

This just cranked up the discomfort to an excruciating level. The mix of unresolved tension and memories—okay, you might be an emo, but how were you supposed to be cool with all of these hanging in the air?

Your site of exorcism was an abandoned warehouse, and the cursed spirit in question was supposed to be a grade 3. You two were grade 2 sorcerers now, so you were a perfect fit to exorcise it. But there was indeed this unease in the air that you couldn't put your finger to.

"Isn't it awfully too quiet?" you unwittingly muttered, staring at the darkness of the wall. You couldn't feel any cursed energy belonging to any possible malevolent entity, and that was what unsettled you the most.

Megumi frowned at your line of sight. "It is. Stay close."

You blinked at what he said, and before you knew it, the familiar scent of him being near to you made your entire body burst with this equally familiar warmth. When you looked up to him, seeing the solid sharpness in that dark eyes of his and his jaw set, dead butterflies in your chest rose back to life again, against your heartbreak and better judgement.

Stay close, he said... So he is worried...

And in an attempt to hide how flustered you were, you looked down.

You walked a few good steps, when suddenly he asked, "So, are you with Hakari-senpai now?"

"Huh?" You spun around, your expression a mix of surprise and confusion.

"You two seem close."

Seem close? Seem close... wait, so Megumi had noticed...?

Suddenly, you felt incited and it made you angry. "That's none of your business," your voice carried a sharp edge, hissing. And you knew you were being a bit mean by adding, "You broke up with me, so why do you even care?"

In that moment, Megumi could've sworn his chest throbbed. Your cutting tone pierced directly into his heart, lodging itself there.

You had all rights to be annoyed, and he knew that. Why did that question even slip out of him?

"Nah, nevermind," he mumbled in response, looking away.

Awkwardness lingered afterwards. You hated this, but no, you weren't above being petty. He had broken your heart and it still stung even now. If your intentionally biting words did to him even a fraction of what he made you feel, then you would find a small sense of satisfaction in it.

But you weren't able to ponder about your mess of feelings further when Megumi abruptly yanked your arm, his voice soaking with urgency, "It's here!"

Sure enough, the grotesque cursed spirit with the shape of a giant bee broke through the walls with a bang. The two of you immediately readied your fighting stance. Megumi was ready with his divine dogs, while you with your cursed weapon.

For a while, you engaged the cursed spirit with all you had. You were trying to focus on the enemy, but you couldn't help but notice the way Megumi always looked at you every few seconds, checking for any signs of injury or harm.

Frankly speaking, he trusted your strength and knew that you were a capable sorcerer. You had been paired in a mission before and he knew both your potential and shortcomings. It was just there was something about this place that had his senses on high alert.

And his fears were proven true when you yelped and were flung onto the grimy floor. "Y/N!"

"I'm fine!" you shouted in a rush, scrambling to your feet. However, as you spun towards him, your scream tore through the hall as you caught sight of the bee lurking behind him. "Megumi!"

He got distracted. The bee quickly latched onto him and almost stung him, until he wrestled it off and summoned Nue and exorcised it.

You went to his side that instant. "Are you okay?!"

"I am." But then he winced and almost fell on his knees if you didn't have a secure grip on him. He savored your touch and breathed a sigh of relief, thinking that now you two were safe.

"Megumi! Oh god!" Panic surged through you as you pulled him close. His side was bleeding, and you widened your eyes at the sight.

"I'm okay, I promise," he rasped, looking you in the eyes. "What abo—"

Then you saw it, the flicker from deep from that corner of platform, and suddenly, you grasped the source of the unease that had been lingering within you all this time. It wasn't the bee Megumi had just exorcised—

At that moment, there was no room for thought, one thing was certain: you didn't want him to get hurt more.

He didn't manage to finish his sentence when suddenly you pushed him away with so much force he never thought you had. Everything crashed so suddenly, he didn't have the time to brace himself or grab you with him, as another cursed bee appeared out of nowhere and—

Reality flashed before his eyes as he stared at you in sheer horror. At how the cursed spirit tore your body, sinking its hollow stinger in you.

You didn't really know what happened next. Everything was muffled—the frantic movements around you turned into a blur, along with Megumi's yells. Otherworldly pain coursed through your entire being and your ears rang, then everything in your line of sight became distorted and faded, along with your consciousness. Next and the last thing you knew was Megumi's battered face, a final imprint before you succumbed to the void.

Megumi had exorcised the remaining cursed spirit and staggered to his feet—falling a few times, but he made his way towards you through gritted teeth. You are hurt. He forced himself to get to you and pull you into his arms.

And suddenly, suddenly, nothing mattered anymore as overwhelming terror consumed him upon seeing you. Blood streamed from your abdomen so much that it made a continuous pool.

"You stupid—!" He choked out, voice hitching. You were no longer conscious and it devastated him even more. "Hey, hey? Wake up—hells—"

You, who did everything you could to save your relationship. You, who cried tears for him when he blatantly broke your heart. And you, who put himself first—and now facing the consequences.

It crashed upon him in that very second, the clarity. What was he thinking back then? He still loves you.

"If you die on me, I won't forgive you."

Megumi scooped you in his arms, pressing you close to his chest, the blood seeping from his wound be damned as he looked at your serene face. His heart shattered in the worst way possible and he almost wheezed at the sticky sensation of your blood—and how lifeless you felt in his grasp—but he willed it away.

"Don't," his broken rasp echoed the walls as he took each step to get both of you out of this hellhole. He winced and hissed at his own injury, chewing his lip in frustration, at how helpless he was.

"Don't leave me."

It was like a distant, hazy memory.

Was it a memory though? No. It seemed far too real for that.

The throbbing headache pounding through your skull and shivers that wracked your body pulled you back to reality. There was a heavy pressure on your abdomen and any movement sent sharp pain shooting through you.

You gradually opened your eyes, squinting against the brightness. You were in a hospital gown, an IV was injected on your arm, and the sterile scent made your stomach twist, as nausea creeping through your guts. Your vision was still blurry as you tried to look around to find someone who waited for you. As you slowly turned your head to the side, you saw him, sitting in the chair right next your bed.

Megumi was sleeping in such uncomfortable position, his head resting on the edge of your bed. He appeared peaceful, almost childlike, devoid of his usual stoic demeanor.

Your heartstrings were tugged at this rare sight. He also sustained injuries and yet... he was waiting for you to wake up, here.

Your chest swelled with warmth, which was quickly followed by a sting of heartbreak. Still, you two broke up...

You jolted, and the inadvertent movement sent a wave of pain that seemed to paralyze your nerves, causing you to whimper. The noise woke Megumi from his slumber, as he shot his eyes open in alarm, catching your hand in his.

"Hey... Are you okay?" Megumi worriedly looked down at you with a visible frown, and the grimace of pain on your face, accompanied by trembling lips, was enough of an answer. He hastily scrambled out in slight panic, "I'll get Ieiri-san."

When Shoko came and got you the painkillers, your pain receded somewhat. Through it all, Megumi stood there, casting concerned glances in your way.

"Bedrest for the week," Shoko stated firmly, assessing your wound with a no-nonsense expression. "Your injury isn't minor—it's serious enough that you're strongly advised against excessive movement."

You could only nod in response. Megumi bowed. "Thank you, Ieiri-san." Once the doctor departed, silence settled over the room once more.

“Why did you do that?” he quietly asked then, referring to what you did for him. And when you turned to him, you saw it clearly.

He looked pale, and there was this haunted look in his eyes. It broke your heart a little.

"You were hurt." Your voice came out dry, and you realized firsthand just how parched you were. Seeing Megumi looking down never quite sat right with you. He was meant to be an unwavering presence, someone strong enough to sway your convictions.

However, a pang struck when he countered with stern eyes, "You didn't have to do that."

...he was right. You didn't have to. What he didn't know was that you were still holding on these stupid feelings, which drove you to shield him. It made you ponder: if your roles were reversed, would he not step in to protect you at all?

"Why are you here?" You weren't sure if the bitterness in your tone was evident, but you continued anyway. "You don't have to be here either."

"Don't have to?" His gaze bore disbelief, as if not believing your words. "I'm—"

"If it's because I saved you, Megumi—"

“Do not even think, even for a moment, that I won’t be concerned over you.” His voice, deep and hoarse, struck you to the core, silencing your words. “Never. I always, always want you to be safe.”

Your mind became a blank slate. Suddenly, all that mattered was his voice.

"Don't you realize how terrifying it was? Seeing you like that?" Megumi spat, his green eyes shining with intensity, teeth gritted and fists clenched. "How could you even think that I wouldn't be here—" his breath hitched, and then his lips trembled slightly, "—for you?"

You blinked quickly, a feeling stirred within you—stemming from that cursed, fragile heart of yours to be exact, evident from the rapid thumping in your chest.

You dumbly uttered, "But we are—"

"Oh, Goddamnit." Megumi cursed, and honestly you were taken aback. It wasn't really in him to swear, so this really bugged him. He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, and despite the situation, your heart skipped a beat at the sight. Even a mess in a hospital gown, your ex-boyfriend was still undeniably attractive.

He stared at you squarely in the eye, unflinching, steadfast and true, the very image of Fushiguro Megumi you admired from afar and fell in love with in the first place half a year ago. "You don't have to... say anything, if you don't want to. Right now... just hear me out."

And the things he said next... all of them, you could say, caught you entirely off guard.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not trying hard enough, and—damn it, for making you sad. I never, ever wanted to see you that upset."

Megumi drew in a sharp breath, averting his gaze. "And for days, I've wondered if you and Hakari-senpai are now a thing... and you know what? I hate it so much. I know I have no grounds to feel this way, after what I did, but..."

And like a train wreck, his final words hit you hard. Tears welled up in your eyes in immediate response.

“I'm a loser, and a coward too, maybe,” he shrugged, a tinge of self-deprecation in his tone. “And I suck at telling people my feelings, but I love you. I still do.”

A sob slipped out of your throat and you hastily pulled the blanket over your face, much to his surprise. He thought he had worsened things, with the way you were turning away from him.

But then, from beneath the blanket, in a croaky voice, you proclaimed, "Fushiguro Megumi, you're a complete and utter idiot."

And Megumi didn't know that he had been holding back his breath as he chuckled heartily, relieved that you would still take his ass back after this prolonged mess. He knew he still had a lot to make up for and was determined to show it through his actions.

"Maybe I am, yeah."

"That's possibly the longest shit you have ever spouted in one breath."

"Yeah..."

But he got his chance back, and he knew that you would be alright. Both of you are.

On one sunny day...

"Hey, are you alone?"

Megumi glanced up from his phone, only to be met with a random girl standing in front of him, batting her eyelashes with an ambiguous intent. He blinked at her curiously.

"No. Can I help you?"

The girl twirled her hair suggestively. "Ah, you see... I see you all in your lonesome and I think you're quite cute—"

The hell? Megumi frowned, and he was really about to give this bimbo a piece of his mind when—

Oh, oh. Forget that. Megumi's attention snapped to you on the opposite side of the crossroad. All pretty and dolled up with that crop tee and miniskirt he once mentioned would look great on you by a slip of tongue—that accidental comment earned him your teasing quips for weeks already.

"Sorry, I'm here for my girlfriend. Bye."

Abruptly dismissing the girl, he didn't catch how comically offended she was for being turned down in a span of 20 seconds. He took big strides towards you, as you crossed the street, and you immediately beamed when you caught the sight of his face.

"Megumi!"

Ah, this is going to be a good day, he thought. As he gazed at your pretty face, and caught your hand in his, clasping it tightly, reveling in your scent and the warmth of your presence beside him—

He was content, and once again it dawned on him, that he likes you so, so damn much.

"Let's get started on our date, shall we?"

[pastorpresent]

Logan, who rolls his eyes at Wade's constant moving and squirming in their bed. Logan, who grumbles at him to shut up during the night when they are both trying to sleep because Wade won't stop rambling nonsense. Logan, who growls and shakes him off whenever they accidently end up intertwined in their sleep.

Except then Wade ends up on a merc job that runs through the night and Logan can't fucking sleep.

At first, he isn't sure what the problem is. He did his usual routine, set up the pull out and climbed under the covers, looking forward to a night with the bed to himself.

He then proceeds to toss and turn for hours. His brain won't shut off enough for him to fall asleep, and he can't get fucking comfortable. It's driving him insane, and he lies there for hours, utterly frustrated because he is tired. He's exhausted, actually, and yet he can't fall asleep and the why of it all doesn't hit him till about 3am.

The bed isn't creaking softly under Wade's constantly bouncing leg and shifting positions. There's no running commentary that quietens his own thoughts enough to let him drift off. There's nothing warm and solid that smells like Wade to wrap himself around during the night when his body is craving touch the most.

He gives up with a growl, flicking on the TV and relenting to the fact he wasn't going to get any sleep tonight. His brain won't shut the fuck up repeating Wade's name like a damn mantra, and his body is practically vibrating with anxiety over the fact the merc wasn't next to him right now where he was supposed to be.

(Ridiculous and possessive, he scolds himself. Wade is his own damn person, and he has more important stuff to do that be Logan's emotional support teddy bear. Not to mention he's over two hundred fucking years old, and shouldn't need an emotional support teddy bear.)

Wades gets back at six in the morning. Logan can smell the thick scent of his blood before he actually sees him, and he's already up and at the door as Wade enters silently.

He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees Logan standing there waiting for him.

"Fuck, peanut! Warn a guy next time! I thought you'd still be sleeping," Wade says, pulling his mask off, clutching his chest dramatically.

Now that Wade's here, standing in front of him after Logan spent the last eight hours craving his prescence to a nauseating degree, he doesn't know what to say. Doesn't want to freak Wade out with his own stupid attachment, settles on a "you okay?"

His voice cracks, and Wade looks instantly worried, taking a step into his space.

"I think I should be asking you that," he frowns, and Logan shrugs, tries to keep his tone light and casual as he replies, "couldn't sleep."

It comes out the opposite of light and casual. The heaviness of the emotion there is embarrassing and obvious, and Wade clicks on without any further clarification.

Logan cringes, waiting for the jokes. Waiting for Wade to gloat about making it so he can't sleep without him, and the thing is Logan would take it all on the chin. Would accept every condescending word if it meant that Wade would just come to bed with him.

Except Wade's face goes soft instead, and he's tugging off his blood stained gloves and lifting both hands to cup Logan's face. His expression is... fond, and Logan wants to tell him he doesn't deserve it, but instead he just kind of melts into the touch. Into Wade's warmth. His smell. It's intoxicating, and a better distraction than any bottle Logan had ever found himself at the bottom of.

"I... come to bed, please? I'm so tired," Logan mumbles, and Wade smiles.

"There's no where else I'd rather be, sweetheart. Let me shower off the blood and I'm all yours."

Logan's anxiety spikes a little despite himself, and he's scanning over Wade with concern, "are you definitely alright?"

"Immortal, remember? I'm completely fine peanut, but if you want to join me in the shower to examine me yourself I'm not complaining," he wags his non-existent eyebrows, and Logan snorts.

"That shower would never fit the two of us."

"Is that a challenge?"

And he isn't sure why, but the warm familiarity of their back and forth sends him into a fresh wave of emotion again, and he finds himself pulling Wade in for a hug before he could chastise himself for even wanting it.

Wade hugs him back tight, running a hand over his back, "so no more overnight jobs?"

Logan grumbles his disapproval, and Wade chuckles in his hold.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

could you do a pregnant reader x rafe

a/n: okay but that got my brain buzzing, so i simply had to get all the thoughts out in the form of headcannons (written right before i fell asleep, sorry if it shows)

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

okay, so picture this: he's the asshole frat boy, you're the cute college chick who unlike him is actually there for the education.

also, he's your ex...

you were only together for a few months, but still, that shit was intense, the relationship nearly broke you from all of the high highs and low lows

it was exhausting being in love with an asshole, hence why you're no longer together

he was totally the type of toxic boyfriend to only wanna fuck you without a condom, either by pressuring you or just straight up lying and then rolling the rubber right off either as soon as he got you into doggystyle or like halfway through when you were too cockdrunk to notice the difference.

so that might have been why a month or so after the two of you broke up, you were late...

i'm picturing that you finally took a test at the most chaotic moment: at the beginning of a party in a bathroom, your roommate doing a quick run to a pharmacy while drunk folks try to barge down the door.

when your roomie comes back, you're totally freaking out, full-on melt-down, while she sits on the counter beside the sink and tries to calm you down, thinking up other solutions to your symptoms.

but the damn stick shows you two lines.

you were pregnant.

"so are you gonna tell him?" your roomie asks you, but you're still on a completely different planet, trying to comprehend the result.

"huh?"

"rafe. are you gonna tell him? i mean, i assume that it's him, unless there's somebody else, in which, how dare you not spill."

"what? no, there's no one else. of course it's rafe's..."

"...so? are you gonna tell him?"

but you have no idea if you want to or even should. you don't even have the slightest idea what you might wanna do about it all, if you should keep the baby or not.

but timing really is a funny funny thing, because when you then decide to go home to process everything (because damn, now you can't stay at the party and celebrate the close call), you bump into none other then the man, the myth, the whore himself: rafe fucking cameron.

now, you're straight up crying at this point, just overwhelmed as fuck, so of course he doesn't let you just slip by without figuring out what in the fuck is going on, if there is some douchebag he needs to go beat up.

"there only douchebag you need to beat up is yourself," you spit out before you can stop the phrase.

"oh, come on, baby. you can't still be mad at me? it's been like a month."

"please, rafe... just let me go home..."

"no, not until you tell me what's wrong!"

and when you actually say it out loud, it's like the awful party music fades and the buzzing crowd around you disappears.

"i'm pregnant."

at first, he just stands there stunned, staring straight through you.

if he's holding a glass, then he definitely drops and smashes it on the ground.

but then he grabs your arm and wordlessly drags you with him, all the way up to his room.

that's when, in the dull quiet of his dark dorm room, that it really sinks in.

for a while he just stares at you, letting his eyes scan down your frame, surely imagining what you'd look like in a few months.

and then, out of the blue, he whispers, "marry me..."

"...what?"

"marry me," he utters with more confidence, "i know this isn't exactly how it should go, but babe... i still love you. i never stopped... let me take care of you, let me take care of our baby, let me give you the life we deserve. so what do you say? will you marry me?"

but you just stare back at him as if he's gone mad.

"...no."

your stomach starts to flip as you then see the first signs of rage flare up on his features, "what do you mean no?"

"rafe, i'm supposed to be finishing up my degree, being young and dumb, not getting knocked up by the last man i'd ever want to be forever stuck with."

of course he then totally pops off, pushes you into a corner, yelling, screaming, all the nine yards

saying all this stuff about how you should be grateful that he ever gave you his time of day in the first place, nevertheless get you pregnant with his kid.

sooo, me thinks the next steps in their story gets pretty dark, pretty fast....

we talking him taking you with him home to tannyhill because school is simply too stressful for you and the baby (in his opinion)

mayhaps he straight up locks you in a room and acts all nice, pretends that nothing is wrong with the way he handles it all

forced marriage? yes? no? yes.

him getting fucking FERAL when you start to show?

also him getting feral long before that, taking the chance to make sure you're really, totally, 100% pregnant, if you know what i mean (in other words: all of the creampies ever, just over and over again, fucking load after load deep inside of you + so so much cumplay)

and the ending? i imagine that one day, after your kid is born, you run away, baby in your arms and not much else.

you try and create a quiet little life for you and your child somewhere far away

but eventually (of course, just for the sake of ✨drama✨) he finds you...

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[lilia-calderus-pet-goat]

Found-Family headcanons for a³'s coven of chaos, part 5: (because they all deserved more time with each other)

(part 4, here) - (part 3, here) - (part 2 - here) - (part 1, here)

Lilia once had a fling with Carmilla, from the lesbian vampire novel. She absent-mindedly mentioned it one time while Billy was browsing 'queer classics' and he looked at her in absolute shock. “What? I wasn't *always* a hermit—” “That's not what I'm shocked a b o u t—”

Lilia is very irresponsible with what she eats, sometimes forgetting food all-together, never checking for expiration dates, etc. (“I don't mind a *lapsed* expiration date-”)

Jen has taken it upon herself to fix that. She won't let her go grocery shopping alone and she won't let her eat whatever. Your girl makes shopping lists and schedules specific meals for every day each week, to make sure her resident scatter-brain stays healthy.

Jen and Alice vent to each other a lot. Mainly because they provide each other with very different, but also always very honest and objective perspectives. Jen reminds Alice to put herself first on occasion and Alice reminds Jen to give others the benefit of the doubt sometimes.

One day, the Kaplans asked to have coffee with the coven, which made Billy incredibly nervous. Mainly because Agatha wasn't making it easy in the slightest.

Sharon managed to save the day, against all odds. She took them to the side for a bit and comforted them, explaining that she herself is just a regular lady, but she's grown to love the others regardless. And so the Kaplans gave the coven a second chance and ended up finding them rather endearing despite their constant quarrels.

Rebecca Kaplan gets a private moment with Agatha. She tells her that she's sorry about Nicholas, and that she almost knows what that feels like, because she almost lost her son. Then there's a pause, and she adds, “... well, not almost, was it?” by herself. Because a mother always knows.

If it was about anything else, Agatha woulf have mocked her. She didn't. She looked at this woman who's lost her son, but can't mourn him, because he's right there with her—and she nodded empatheticaly. There they stood, two mothers of boys who died, filling the void in their hearts with Wanda's son. And they don't love him any less.

“I'm glad he has you ladies in his life. At first I was... Apprehensive, worried, I guess. But at least he has some people who can relate to him more, understand him, mentor him. Because his father and I—he needs more than what we can give him.” — “Well, you're doing something right. You've already given him the most valuable thing. And for that you are his parents, you always will be.”

When Rebecca Kaplan realises Alice is Lorna Wu's daughter she freaks out completely (since we know she was a fan, having gone to her last concert.) She hadn't made the connection before meeting her personally, despite hearing about her a lot from Billy.

The fake car that Agatha distractedly entered in the first episode was built by John Collins (Herb) at Sharon's request, as 'Agnes' had been trying to break into Sharon's car and use it for her crazy episodes. They got worried that she'd get herself hurt, so they made her the fake car to make sure she wouldn't leave her house.

[everythingisromant1c]

It's Always Been You - Chapter 10

james potter x fem!reader

summary - In all the excitement—or horror, to you—of the week, including the rumors that were still spreading rapid-fire around school, or your supposed best friend James's mysteriously terrible mood, you'd almost forgotten: the time had finally come for you to go on your date in Hogsmeade.

wc [5.0k]

all chapters | <- Chapter 9 - Chapter 11 ->

Maybe your best friend's unexplainable foul mood had been the reason that sleep came difficult to you that night, or maybe it was the fact that the clock in your brain was counting down until the time the sun would rise. The time when morning would come and you'd take that carriage ride over to Hogsmeade with the boys like you'd promised, and have to find Sebastian to go on your date with him. Your date. It still didn't feel real.

You didn't know if anything you'd done in the past could truly be qualified as an official date, one you could refer back to that morning as you finally saw sunlight through your window and knew you'd have to get ready. Luckily, you had two of the best girls you knew for friends, and they were set on helping you.

"I'm telling you, it's the first dress." Marlene nodded her head at you with wide, excited eyes, as you held two different dresses still on hangers up to your neck. "I mean are you kidding? It's one hundred percent your color, and you look sexy as hell in it."

Your jaw dropped at her antics. "Marlene," you cooed nervously.

"I mean it. Sebastian's not gonna be able to keep his hands off of you when he sees you."

You covered your face with your hands, half because you were embarrassed, and half because you didn't need Lily and Marlene to see you spiraling at the thought of what Marlene had just suggested. You'd been so caught up with, well, everything going on, that you hadn't even considered what going on a date truly entailed. What if he wanted to kiss you?

"Then you kiss him back," Marlene said easily as you voiced your question aloud. She stopped herself. "But only if you want to, of course."

"Yeah," Lily agreed, placing down a pair of nice shoes with a short but elegant heel on them that you'd forgotten you'd owned on the floor next to you. "Only do something if you want to do it. Don't let him pressure you into doing anything you don't want to. Even if it's as simple as holding your hand."

"Thank you guys, I know." You set the dress you were planning on wearing on the bed beside you, fiddling with the hanger pensively. "Holding his hand would be nice, I think." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, sitting down on the blanketed mattress. "To be honest, I don't know what I want." The two girls came to stand closer to you as you spoke. "I mean, Sebastian's a great guy and all, but do I even know him all that well?" Your mind traveled back to all the interactions you'd had with him. "What if I only said yes to go out with him because he asked me during the middle of that prank and I panicked and-"

"You need to relax," Lily said, voice firm but comforting at the same time. "You're just freaked out because it's the morning of. You're gonna have a great time." She shrugged a shoulder. "And if things don't click, then it wasn't meant to be. It's not the end of the world. "

"Exactly," the blonde said from next to her. "Don't let Potter's nonsense-spewing mouth ruin this date for you."

You'd filled them in the night before on all that'd been going on with James for the past few days, minus the few intimate 'almosts' that you'd shared with him that'd been dangerously playing in your mind even when you begged them to stop.

"Trust me," you said. "I'm trying not to."

"I still can't believe he's acting like this." Lily shook her head agitatedly. "And just when I was starting to think he might be maturing."

You nodded grievingly. "I would defend his honor to you, Lily, but I don't feel much like doing that right now."

"Maybe it's for the best." She breathed out a dry laugh. "Anyways, I suppose," she sighed. "Are you finished in the bathroom? I need to use the loo."

You snorted. "Yeah, all yours."

She shot you an overly excited grin and slipped into the bathroom, the door shutting behind her. All the while, Marlene took a seat on the bed next to you, something glimmering behind her eyes that told you she had ideas she wanted to voice.

You stared at her half amusedly, half hesitantly. "What is it?"

"Did you ever think, during all your bickering, why Potter has such a problem with you going on this date?"

You sighed. That was all you could think about. You tipped your head at her, knowing where this conversation was going to lead. "Yeah," you said plainly. "Because he's set on the five of us spending every Hogsmeade trip together until we die."

"Or maybe," she argued, "it's because he's jealous."

You dropped your shoulders, shaking your head as you stared at her. "You're not serious."

The blonde stared back at you with an equal amount of fire. "I so am."

You laughed to yourself, perhaps deprecatingly. "The only thing James could be jealous about is the free butterbeer I'll probably be getting."

"Don't be dense."

"I'm not being dense. I'm being realistic." You puffed out a breath. "I know James. Well enough to know that, after we ..." you trailed off. "After the party, when he disappeared, he was freaked out because I'd scared him off. And he knows me too. I didn't have to tell him for him to figure out that I'd ... felt something for him. Something that he obviously was uncomfortable talking about, so I've spared him the trouble and moved on. That's the end of it." You picked up the dress you'd laid on the bed as you heard Lily washing her hands in the bathroom. "It has to be."

Marlene regarded you for a few seconds, maybe scoping out how genuine you were. "Like you said," she shrugged, "you know him best."

You nodded, ending the conversation as Lily exited the bathroom. Though the more this week went on, you believed that fact less and less.

You soon were leaving the sides of both Lily and Marlene after the walk down to the horseless carriages in front of the school, dozens of them stationed there to take everyone down to Hogsmeade.

The air was especially crisp for a September evening, making you think to yourself that maybe bringing a jacket would have been a smart choice, especially in the dress you were wearing, but your brain soon became occupied by other thoughts. Thoughts that were centered around the sight of your four friends standing around an unoccupied carriage in the distance, probably waiting for you.

You took a breath in, and then another one. You were completely devoted to ensuring this would be a drama-free carriage ride, no matter what, or who, tried to stop that from happening. You made your way over to the four boys, two of their backs turned to you. You tapped the long-haired one, of course Sirius, on the shoulder.

"You didn't think you were going to leave without me, did you?" you smirked up at him.

He had a wry smile on his face as he turned to you, surely ready with a quip to send back your way, but that smile left as he saw you, his eyes quickly scanned over you.

"Wow," he blanched. Then a sparkling grin took over his features. "You certainly clean up nice."

You crinkled your forehead at his remark and amused smirk until Remus cut in. "What he means is," corrected the sandy-haired boy from next to him. "You look beautiful. Seriously."

You felt your face begin to heat at the four pairs of eyes all now observing you as you stood there in your dress. You were surprised they weren't poking more fun at you than just Sirius's single obvious remark. You couldn't remember the last time you were this dressed up in front of them.

"Thanks," you muttered gratefully. "Now stop gushing and let's get a move on, yeah?"

Remus shook his head at your reaction but hid his laugh, taking an effortless step onto the high carriage, Peter quietly behind him. Sirius made a move to ruffle your hair, which you dodged easily and shot him a glare. He chuckled, making his way over to the carriage as well. That left only you and James.

You turned to him finally, expecting him to be avoiding your eyes as he'd done for the past few days, but instead found him looking straight at you, hazel eyes and all. You didn't know what to do under his gaze which you'd grown somewhat unused to, so you settled on doing nothing at all. You were still holding your grudge over how he'd been acting and weren't quick to forget about it. You were fully expecting him to do the same and say nothing to you at all.

"You do," he said suddenly, and at the confused quirk of your brow, softly added, "Look beautiful, I mean."

You paused, somewhat taken aback by both his words and the genuine tinge of his eyes. You didn't know how James could hold eye contact so easily, especially when he'd been so set on doing just the opposite lately.

"Oh," you voiced quietly, and couldn't help the way the corners of your lips tilted upwards. "Thanks."

He nodded wordlessly and the two of you turned back to the carriage that held your three other friends, clearly able to hear and see your conversation. You eyed the tall wooden floor of the carriage before you and then the high cut of your dress, and then your shoes. As if reading your mind, a firm hand held itself out in front of you.

You peaked your head over to the source of the hand: James, who looked at you expectantly, a certain air to him that was both light and heavy. You regarded him and his hand for a split second, deciding there was no harm in taking it, and did, your fingers slipping over his steadying palm as you took the large step into the carriage. And maybe you were imagining it, but you felt the ghost of his fingers delicately shadowing your lower back as you steadied yourself into your seat, James following from behind.

He sat across from you and you avoided looking at him as you fought reacting to the feeling that ran through you, like you were still on some kind of high from his touch. It only made you mad to think about, so you decided not to, looking elsewhere instead as the carriage began moving seemingly on its own.

It'd only taken a few moments for the Hogwarts castle to be only a beautiful shrinking sight in the distance, and for the scenery of the early fall to take over your senses instead. You were sat in front of James, who sat next to Peter, the blonde looking rather sickly and lost in troubling thoughts.

"Pete," you called curiously. "You alright? You look pale."

The boy in question turned to you with worry behind his eyes, but he only nodded. "Yeah, I'm great," he said, voice rather shaky for someone who was 'great.'

"He's just nervous about his date." Sirius reached across the carriage to pat Peter on his shoulder, shaking him a little in his frail state. "You've got nothing to be worried about, mate."

"Yeah, Sirus is right," you agreed. "Remember, she asked you out because she wanted to spend time with you as you already are. Just be yourself."

Sirius nodded, before shifting his focus to you. "And what about you? You nervous for your date with Vance?"

You shrugged. "Maybe before, but I think I'm alright now." You smiled thinly. "I already talked it out with Lily and Marlene in our dorm getting ready."

"So that's what you ladies do up there?" Sirius asked, and you frowned. "Thought there'd be more pillowfights in your underwear."

You made a nauseated expression as Sirius grinned at his own joke. "You're disgusting," you scolded, though Peter had let a smile overtake his face at the joke and you figured maybe it was worth it.

Remus was shaking his head as well from next to you, the corners of his mouth teasing upwards. You turned forward again, James straight in your line of vision, but it didn't even seem he was listening to the conversation at hand, head aimed out the side of the carriage. He looked more distant than ever as he sat tensely and you had to fight the urge to reach out to him. You knew all too well what would come from that.

You let your focus slip onto other things, like the wind that was brushing against your exposed arms and moving your hair slightly in the wind. You fought a shiver, bringing your hands up to rub at the sides of your arms—you were sure you had goosebumps.

For the second time that morning, like he was reading your mind, you watched as James held out his arm towards you, though this time he was holding something in his hand instead: his coat. It was brown on the outside, a light jacket that was lined with a soft flannel fabric, one that you always thought looked dashing on him. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to take it.

You faltered from surprise and then shook your head. "I'm alright," you said softly, pursing your lips.

"You're practically shivering," James pointed out, tipping out his chin at you. "Just take it."

"I don't want to take your own jacket from you, James. It's chilly."

"Exactly," he said, catching you in your lie. "And you're not taking it from me, I'm giving it to you."

You looked up from the jacket he was offering, if you could call it an offer, and at him, seeing the stubborn hold of his jaw and yet the sincere gloss of his eyes. Because you knew he wouldn't let you say no anyway now that you'd admitted it was chilly, you took it from his hand.

You wrapped the too-big coat over your shoulders, grateful but perhaps hateful of the way it immediately warmed you like the lighting of a fireplace. It smelt warm and comforting like a fireplace too, or maybe that was just the fact that it was James's jacket and he always smelled strangely nice. You blinked at yourself, chasing away your thoughts that were certainly not appropriate, considering you were currently on your way to a date with a different boy.

In all your thinking, it was like you could feel a pair of eyes on you. You looked up again, but James already had gone back to staring out at the moving scenery. You couldn't read him right then, and if there was anything you'd learned about James from all the years you'd known him, it was that you could always read him, even when others couldn't. The fact that you hadn't been able to read him for days was worrying you sick and setting you off all at once. You just wished you could get inside his head.

You sighed, your eyes shifting over to Remus, who was giving you the oddest of looks. The corners of his eyes crinkled, though his lips stayed shut together. You raised a brow and he only shrugged, looking away again. You really needed to get inside that boy's head, too.

Before you could even mull over the different possibilities of ways that your up-and-coming date could go wrong, a habit of your mind that you hated, the carriage had pulled up into Hogsmeade. It came to a slow stop next to the uniquely shaped brick buildings you'd become all too familiar with over the years. That didn't take away from the excitement bubbling inside your stomach—or maybe that was nervousness; you couldn't tell anymore.

All five of you exited the carriage, James offering you his hand again as you took the big step onto the ground. You were growing too frustrated to even consider the feeling of your hand in his larger one that somehow was still as warm as the jacket you wore. How he could be so sweet yet so aggravatingly aloof you didn't know, but you forced your mind off the topic once again. Only, you couldn't force thoughts of James away completely, because he was calling your name as soon as you'd walked past him.

Your head turned to him so swiftly it almost made you dizzy. He was standing there along the side of a building you identified as The Three Broomsticks, hands now shoved into his trouser pockets with his head slightly tipped forward, though he stood up straighter as you made your way to him.

"Yeah?" you questioned, and maybe your tone was testy, but you didn't have it in you to alter it for his sake.

James shifted his footing underneath your gaze, taking a moment before speaking. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry."

The pull of your brows let up at his words and you observed his facial expressions shamelessly, sorting through what to say. Luckily, he spoke again before you could.

"I'm sorry for making you take the carriage ride into Hogsmeade with the rest of us. You should've just gone with your date. I was just in an ... off mood last night. Didn't mean to take it out on you."

And just like that, the hope you were harboring when James had first uttered the word 'sorry' had bubbled and churned inside of you until all that was left was dissatisfaction.

"Is that all?" you questioned.

James's lips parted. "What?"

"I mean, I'm grateful for your apology," you breathed the word like it left a foul taste in your mouth. "But is there anything else you'd like to talk about? Apologize for?"

James scratched his head almost comically, and you laughed without any humor as you began to turn around. Before you could take a single step, James grasped your wrist in his fingertips, and you fought not to notice how feather-light he held onto you.

"Like what?" he asked you, and at your stone expression he dropped your hand. "Please," he insisted.

You swallowed and shrugged up your shoulders irritatedly. "Oh, I don't know James, maybe the fact that you've been acting 'off' this whole week and won't say a word as to why?" You took the hand he'd held and put it to your forehead. "I've probably asked you if you were okay about a dozen times and all you can say to me is that you're 'fine' when you're clearly ticked off."

"Because that's the truth," James insisted.

"Please," you remarked. "It's not the truth. Don't lie to me, James. I know you. Better than anyone else, and I know when you're upset about something."

"I'm not upset, alright?" James squinted at you. "Why can't you just let it go?"

"Because!" You took a breath in, trying to calm yourself because this was not the drama-free morning you wanted to have. "Because, every time I've been down, which has been too many times to count, you've been there for me. Always."

You thought back to the night you realized you loved him as more than just a friend, when he'd comforted you through your tears so quickly and sweetly, and it only made you feel more exasperated.

"So I'm not just going to 'let it go' when something's so obviously bothering you, enough to make you act completely differently to the point where you won't even talk to me." You paused, noticing the sinking in James's gaze the more you spoke. "And quite frankly," you continued, "it hurts like hell that you don't think you can tell me what's been going on, because you can. We're supposed to be best friends, remember?"

James let out a low breath, somewhere between a laugh and a scoff that had your forehead pulling. "Trust me, I remember."

"Then why the hell won't you just talk to me?" Your palms were facing him, telling him it was his move, his turn to try and fix things.

"Because there's nothing to say." He'd thrown away his turn without a second glance, running a fast hand through his hair. "God, this was a mistake. Every time I talk to you, I just-" he stopped himself.

Your heart was beating hard in your chest. "You just what?"

James shook his stubborn head, a muscle in his jaw noticeably flexing. "Nothing, alright?" He looked upwards, like he was battling something greater than him, and began walking towards wherever the hell James Potter went when he didn't want to talk to you. You weren't going to let him.

"How long are you going to keep doing this for, James?" He halted his steps, turning his head back towards you with a rigid look in his eyes. "How long are you going to avoid me?"

"Avoid you?" he laughed, and you froze. "That's rich, coming from you of all people."

You clamped your jaw shut for a beat, blinking at him as your mind started to spin. "What are you talking about?" You knew exactly what he was talking about.

"I'm talking about when you were avoiding me just a few days ago. Ring a bell?"

You lowered your gaze, confidence stuttering. You didn't respond.

"I mean, you wouldn't even partner with me Defense Against the Dark Arts, for Merlin's sake."

"That was different," you argued, though you were ashamed of how pathetic the words sounded coming from your lips.

"How?" James asked, staring at you fearlessly now with raised, expectant brows and an unmoving jaw.

"It ... it just is!" You looked away. "We're getting off track. My point was that ... I just miss you, James." The irony of your warm words contrasted with the angry shake of your lips didn't escape you. "I miss the James who wouldn't push me away every time I tried to have a conversation with him, or who wouldn't act like a bloody child every time I mention I'm going on a date."

If you thought you saw a crack of guilt racking James's expression, there was no trace of it now.

"Oh yeah?" he questioned, his tone colder than you'd ever heard it. "I'm sorry I don't like talking about your beloved Sebastian every five minutes."

"Well it's not like I can talk to you about anything else, can I?" Your heart was thumping in your chest and you felt like crying. "You know what?" You chewed on the inside of your cheek, turning away. "I give up! Let's just talk whenever you're ready to be honest with me."

Your back was to him when he shouted, "You want me to be honest?" You scoffed, nodding your head. "That's what you want?" he repeated.

"Yes James!" you shouted. "That's exactly what I want!"

"Well then, fine!" He wiped a desperate hand over his face, throwing up his arms. "We kissed, alright?"

Your heart sizzled somewhere in your chest beneath your stilled lungs, every part of you halting its movements. Your expression fell slowly and you blinked at him, staring wordlessly for a moment. "What?"

James stared back at you, looking at you more than he'd looked at you in the past week altogether. The opposite of yours, his chest heaved up and down like he'd been fighting for air and could only now come up for oxygen. He didn't look like he'd misspoken and that scared you more than anything.

"We kissed. Last week. At the party."

Your lips hung, parted and confused. "What are you-"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about. We kissed, and you ran off, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since."

Your eyes felt like they had a mind of their own, scanning rapidly over James and then looking at the ground, your heeled shoes, anywhere but at him because your world was shifting around you, the walls of what you thought you knew crumbling down on you.

You swallowed, throat going dry. "James," you voiced carefully. "That kiss was ..." you shook your head. "We were playing a game."

Maybe he would take the slowness of your words for sureness rather than struggle, because that along with seemingly every other emotion was what you were feeling inside.

"No, c'mon. Don't do that." James shook his head back at you and you felt like running away, but you couldn't now. Not when he was looking at you like that. "Don't try and make it seem like that was all it was, because it wasn't. Not for me, and I know it meant more to you too."

The cool breeze from before had picked up and was turning into an inexorable wind that made you feel worse than you already did. Could he see the way you had to stop yourself from shaking? Hear the way you willed your heartbeat to stop pounding? Clearly not, because he kept talking.

"For days, weeks even, all that's been on my mind was you. Do you know how hard it is to get anything done when all I can think about is my best friend kissing me?"

You felt dizzy with the way he was staring into your eyes. Like you'd voiced to yourself a million times, how James held eye contact so effortlessly was a mystery you'd never find the answer to.

"And I know you said you wanted to just pretend like the kiss never happened, but you should know that I can't do that, alright? Trust me. I've tried, and obviously that didn't work." He ran a hand through his tousled hair again. "So I just ... I need you to say something to me. Anything."

You willed yourself to speak again, blood rushing past your ears now. "I ... I don't know what to say. It was a part of a game."

James practically flinched. "Anything but that." He breathed out a laugh without any chest, tipping his head back and taking steps around. "God."

You still felt like crying, because nothing was making sense. Then James refocused on you, and you felt pinned underneath his gaze.

"You can tell me it was part of a game however many times you want." His words were achingly slow and desperate. "But tell me ... just tell me you didn't feel anything when we kissed. That it meant absolutely nothing to you, and I'll stop talking. I promise."

You knew he meant what he said; you could see it all through his hazel eyes. You'd asked for honesty and you'd gotten it. You knew that you couldn't lie to him anymore, and you said your truth with your voice was on the verge of breaking.

"I can't." Even if your voice shook, James heard it loud and clear. He stopped moving and stepped closer to you whether he noticed or not. "But that doesn't mean it can mean anything now."

If it was possible, he went even more still. His eyes pleaded with you to say more to him, so you did. "It's not fair, James." Your voice broke off, and James took both your hands in his, and held them tight near his chest, like hope pumped through them.

"What? What's not fair, Love?"

You flinched at the name you hadn't heard in seemingly forever, but it pinched at the part of your brain that remembered it vividly. You didn't know how this moment was real. You looked down at his hands that engulfed yours. "It's not fair that it meant something, because it can't."

You pretended not to notice the way James's hands loosened their hold. "Not when-" your voice hitched at the sign of your eyes blurring despite how much you'd willed them not to. "Not after I spent months—years, even—trying to make every interaction between us mean something. After I spent all that time trying to get over you! It- it's not fair, and I won't do it. I won't."

You shook your head timidly and repeatedly like it would stop what was happening. You didn't know when you and James had moved away from each other, probably somewhere between your voice breaking and your eyes watering, but you had. But that wasn't was most important.

James had gone eerily still, painfully silent. That didn't change the fact that his unforgiving eyes continued to search what seemed like every inch of your face. His voice rang out lowly.

"Get over me?" His heavy brows furrowed in hurt and bewilderment. "Wh-" he choked. "What do you mean 'get over me'?"

You put a hand to your head, amused in your disbelief. "Like you haven't known."

James took a persistent step forward, the pinch between his brows desperate. "What the hell are you talking about?"

This all felt like a bad dream you couldn't wake up from. You forced yourself to breathe. "I really can't do this right now, I-" You didn't think you could do it ever. You pulled at the hem of your dress. "I have a date."

Even with the wind whipping against you both, you'd never heard a silence like the one you did right then.

"You're really still going on that date?" James peered at you interrogatingly, his eyes slightly red now, and it killed you.

"What am I supposed to do, James?"

You wiped at your nose. James's hands were elevated at his sides like he wanted to reach out to you, but didn't. He looked like he didn't know what he wanted to do, but he didn't stop.

"You can't just go running away all because ..." he panted, "because..." His voice trailed off.

You wanted to shout at him that all you'd done since forever was stop yourself from running away, but you didn't. It wasn't his fault you'd tortured yourself all these years. But that didn't mean he could get his happy ending with the snap of his fingers, either.

Just to twist the knife in your chest, he whispered, "Please."

You dropped your gaze low to the cobblestone ground beneath your feet, blurry now through your lashes. "I need to go." The sight of him standing before you, eyes watery and lips parted helplessly, sent painful pangs through your heart. You moved your head, willing yourself to turn away and your legs to move. You didn't think you could leave if you looked him in the eyes. "I'm sorry."

Those same eyes followed you as you walked down the path, head hung low but steps quickening despite. Steps taken in the direction of The Three Broomsticks, where you'd go on your date with Sebastian. Your mind kicked and screamed at you at every step, but you couldn't get them to stop.

You felt James's eyes on your retreating form like you felt the wind snapping against your cheeks, though you didn't turn back to look at him. That way, he wouldn't be able to see the way your expression shook at the effort of just trying to keep yourself together.

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[wildernessuntothemselves]

Heaven is not fit to house a love (like you and I) | Last Part

Word Count: 13.8k

Genre: smut, angst, fluff

Summary: When you first met your boyfriend, it was love at first sight. No, more than that. It was love before you even met. It felt like you had known each other in another life and were meant to find each other again. 

But that's not actually true, is it? You and Beomgyu don't actually know each other from another life, and the dreams you've been having aren't memories of your past life either. That's ridiculous. 

But then why does Beomgyu get so defensive about them? And why does each dream feel more real than the one before? 

A/N: this is the sequel to my series YAMQN but I'm trying to write it in a way that it would be comprehensible to people who have never read YAMQN. The parts in italic are the dreams. 

Warnings: fem!reader, sub!gyu, dom!reader, dom!gyu, sub!reader, fingering, handjobs, missionary, doggy, mentions of previous noncon, yandere behaviour, violence, bodily harm, alienation

You still have the dreams, the memories, the torment. They never went away despite you trying your goddamn hardest. Your brain seems to conjure them up harder and more vividly the more you work to push them away. You don't know if Beomgyu knows this but he's beside you every possible second of every day, keeping you busy and helping to push it all away, or at least distract you from it. 

You've quit your job. Beomgyu isn't unreasonable. He will help you get another job, just as soon as you feel better. But not right now. You're not ready yet. You need rest and he makes sure you get it, devoting every second he's not at his job or getting you food and stuff you need to taking care of you.

He wanted you to move away, just pack your things and get away from this place that had brought you both such grief, but you couldn't go through with it. Not yet. You had freaked out when he suggested it, telling you it would do you good to get a fresh start and get away from Taehyun but you know he wouldn't be the only one you'd be getting away from. All your friends are here. Your family is here. And even though you're hardly seeing them right now, you know it wouldn't be right to completely uproot yourself from everything you've ever known except Beomgyu. Even though you'd promised to completely and fully devote yourself to only him, you know it can't be good for your already unstable mental state.

You tell him that you'd feel so terribly alone if you move away, especially when he goes to work. So he offers to quit his job to spend all his time with you, explaining that he has put aside some savings he could use for the time being but you still refuse. You tell him that you'd be horribly selfish to let him waste the little precious money he saved up just so he can babysit you but you don’t tell him about how much it scares you to cross that last boundary, to let him completely and utterly devour your entire life despite something at the bottom of your soul telling you to just give it to him.   

Beomgyu reassures you that he doesn’t mind. He wants to spend his money to make sure you're taken care of, but you still refuse. You stand your ground and hold onto the last shred of your life that is not his–for what? You don’t know–and he reluctantly lets it go, for now at least. 

Instead, he uses the time he does have with you to pamper you, feeding you breakfast in bed, getting you things to occupy your time while he's away, drawing baths for you when he gets home from work. It all feels so terribly familiar. The sense of deja vu choking you but Beomgyu is determined to mentally and physically push it all out of your mind and take its place instead. 

He only reads you happy poems and stories, only sings you cheerful love songs. You feel like he’s lulling you into a deep slumber. You're still where you've always been–your friends and family are still within reach, your old life is there to reclaim if you want to–but it's like he'd succeeded in putting a wall between you and the world just like he wanted, and it scares you that you can't tell if that is a good or bad thing. Maybe you should just give into him, fall into him and dissolve into his being until no one will ever be able to pull you apart again. 

You feel his fingers knead the skin of your shoulders as he sits behind you in the bathtub–once again using his free time after work to take care of you instead of giving himself a break after working hard all day. Bubbles and candles surround you, the calming scent of them permeating your brain like a drug, aided by the glass of wine in your hand, to lull you further into your slumber. You let out small hums of appreciation under Beomgyu's expert hands that seem to know you better than you know yourself. How does he know where exactly to touch to unwind a particular knot in your back or relieve a certain stress that has been nagging you for a while? All you have to do is sit there and sip your wine, letting the groggy feeling from the liquid combine with the blissful pleasure of Beomgyu's touch to submerge you deeper into a dreamy state that one day you may never wake up from. 

“There is this beach I was reading about online that I'd like to visit.” You tell him lazily and he chirps happily. He always gets so excited when you initiate any outings or dates to go on and it makes that familiar tender spot in your heart ache at how selfish you’re being. He tries so hard to make you happy and fill your life up with fun and exciting things to do to distract you from the loneliness, and yet you so rarely respond in kind. “Sure. Anything you want, my love.” 

You smile, hearing the relief in his voice, and you go on, a little more excitedly. “It's near that old medieval castle at the cliff top. It's very popular.” 

“Oh, that place.” His hands falter and you can feel a sudden strange chill in the air. “It's just an overrated touristy spot. I know plenty of other beaches that are better.”

You pout. You didn't expect his response. He is usually happy to do whatever you want and you had actually been looking forward to going to that particular beach for a while. “But I want to go there. The beach looks really nice and I thought I could even go explore that old abandoned castle with my prince.” You giggle, trying to crane your head back to send him a flirty look but the expression you find on his face wipes all hints of playfulness off yours.

“And I don't want to. Pick literally anywhere else.” His response is strangely irritated and you frown. You should probably drop it. He is right. There are plenty of nice beaches around. You don't have to go to that particular one. But something about his sharp refusal prompts you to dig more. Stupid girl. Don’t you know that curiosity killed the cat? 

“Why do I need to when we can just go there?” You huff, tension creeping back into your shoulders. 

“I said no.” He rebuts with no explanation and your fiery temper sparks through the heavy fog that has been weighing on your brain. 

“Oh, you said no? Well then if Master says no then I guess that's the end of it.” You snap, your anger begging for you to let it catch fire.  

“Why are you being difficult? I thought you said you'd listen to me?” 

And just like it, he snuffs it all under his finger. You immediately shut down. How long is he going to hold that over your head? You've quit your job. You haven't spoken to Taehyun since then. You hardly see your friends. You stay home waiting for him like a dutiful little housewife. What more does he want from you? You know you've made a mistake. You know you promised to make it up to him and regain his trust, but surely asking to visit a stupid beach doesn't count as a potential breach of trust, does it? 

“Forget it.” You mumble, deflated. You were really looking forward to going there. The place looked super pretty online. It was one of the few places lately that have managed to get you excited at the prospect of visiting them. It held a certain vibrant draw to it when everything else seemed gray and dull in comparison. But you guess you can’t have even that.

You try to get out of the bath, no longer in the mood for intimate messages, but Beomgyu holds you back. Of course, he does. 

“Wait.” You hear Beomgyu sigh and let his hands drop to the water to circle around your waist and pull your body back against him, his lips kissing the junction between your neck and shoulder gently, apologetically. “I'm sorry, baby. I just have a bad feeling about that place. Can't you trust me on that?”

A bad feeling about the place? What the fuck does that mean? It’s just a beach, what could possibly go wrong there? 

Still, you hesitate. You didn’t think that anything could go wrong by being friends with Taehyun either and that Beomgyu was being overly jealous and paranoid but here you are. Maybe if you go there you'll fucking drown or something crazy like that.

You suppose you can give him that. You know if you had a bad feeling about a place, Beomgyu would not force you to go there. It probably wouldn’t be fun anyway if you make him go and he hates every second of it. You want to do something you both enjoy. 

But you really wanted to visit that place. Maybe you should go when he's at work… 

No. Just the idea of going out in public alone without Beomgyu makes you shudder. You can't handle being around people without Beomgyu's comforting presence to rely on. He's got you right where he wants you.

“Fine.” You say in a small voice, finally relenting. 

“Thank you, princess.” He sighs in relief and the tension in the air begins to dissipate once again. “I know you’re bored. I promise to take some time off work and take you on a nice vacation somewhere. How does that sound?”

“Okay.” You mumble unenthusiastically. 

“Come on. Cheer up.” He holds your jaw gently and turns you towards him, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that slowly turns sensual. 

“Beomgyu…” You whine into his mouth, the water shifting as you rub your thighs together. He will never not have an effect on you. You’re too weak for him. 

“I know, princess.” His hand drops between your legs, loosening you up. “I got you.”

His light touches are as strong as electric currents coursing through your veins, and before long, you find yourself squirming in his hold, pushing yourself closer to his touch while paradoxically trying to get away from the intense feeling at the same time. 

But he doesn’t let you. He throws his other arm over you, caging you into place as he takes a hold of your breasts, kneading them until your nipples have pebbled in need. 

“Baby…” You keen, pushing your breasts further into his hand, and crying out as he pulls one of your perked nipples between his thumb and forefinger. 

“Relax for me, baby.” He hums, holding you in place as he works his fingers inside you. It stings a bit as the water dilutes your arousal but he throws your legs on either edge of the tub to give him more space for his fingers to easily breach your hole, the heel of his palm working in tandem to bring you to the edge so scarily fast that you barely even register the sharp bite of his teeth on your neck as he zealously marks you. “Let me take care of you.” 

It’s a spell–a bid to get you to let go, and it’s so hard to not give in when he makes it feel so damn good. 

You're so exposed like this. Even though there is no one here to see you but Beomgyu, it feels like the whole universe is watching him spread you open to his satisfaction and no amount of faux demurity would fool the universe into believing you're not a willing participant in all of this. It's hard to care about your debauched display when your orgasm was heating you up from the inside so much you feel like you might spontaneously combust. Why is it always so intense with him? How does he do it so well? 

You may never know but what you do know is that your orgasm was rolling towards you like the water rolling over the edge of the tub, sharp and sudden, and when it reaches you it threatens to take you under. But Beomgyu holds your head above the water as his relentless fingers continue to fuck you until you yield to his will. You break apart under his touch, forgetting about everything except him in those few moments, forgetting about the beach, the castle, Taehyun and everything you've lost–the only thing registering in your mind is Beomgyu's touch, Beomgyu's smell, Beomgyu's warmth.  

“Beomgyu, Beomgyu, Beomgyu!” You cry as your whole body convulses in his arms, yet it doesn't slip from his hold for even a second, and when you finally come down from your quaking orgasm, you're still in his hold but half of the bath water had spilled over the edge, exposing your skin to the chilly room air–a stark contrast to the searing heat of Beomgyu’s hard cock pressing against you lower back as he tries to subtly jerk himself off against you, and it's your turn to hold him in the palm of your hand.

His quiet desperation brings even more memories to mind, memories of prince Beomgyu needily humping you in frantic attempt to get off, secret exclamations of desire and forbidden love whispered hotly on the skin of your neck or ears or breasts as he mounts you like a dog in heat in a way that he makes sure to tell you is not befitting the image of a prince like him. 

But when you turn around, it's your Beomgyu you see there, a regular college student on the surface, though nothing about him is regular. Is he really even your Beomgyu? The image of him in front of you shimmering and wavering between the Beomgyu you know and prince Beomgyu, and you're not sure which one is real anymore.

“You’re perfect.” He tries to reach out to you but you put his hands on either edge of the bathtub. “Keep those there.”

“Baby–” He starts to whine but shuts up when you grab his submerged cock and start jerking him off roughly. More water splashes out of the tub but neither of you care. He'll clean it up after anyway and you don’t even feel guilty about it. 

“Please, please.” He cries pathetically as if you're the one in control.

“Please what?” You ask curiously as if you're expecting him to suddenly reveal something that would make sense of the tangled mess you've made of him in your mind. 

“Anything.” 

You snort. “God, if someone is to see you like this they'd think I never touch you. You've been cumming every day, in my hand, my mouth, my ass, my cunt, on my face, my tits, my back…”

“It's not enough.” He shakes his head, looking delirious. “Never enough.”

“Well if it's not enough then what's the point of me doing this?” You taunt, going to pull your hand away from him but his own hands quickly fly out to grab yours and put it back on his cock as his whole body springs forward to get close to you as if he could glue his body to yours so you can't escape. “No! Please!”

“Get your hands off me.” You growl and he quickly puts his hands back on the tub's edge, trying to appease you so you wouldn’t deny him, but it’s not enough. He has to feel as helpless as he makes you feel and so you push him away roughly, his head almost hitting the ceramic as his back meets the wall of the tub. 

“You can't keep your hands to yourself, huh?” You purr, raising your free hand to his chest to play with his nipples, making his back arch and his fingers turn as white as the ceramic they're gripping onto while your other hand twists over his cock. 

“Sorry.”

God, you hate hearing that false word fall out of his mouth. You're pretty sure Beomgyu has never been sorry for anything in his life. 

“Are you?” You challenge, squeezing your hand around the head of his cock tightly. “Are you really sorry?” 

“Princess?” He cocks his head to the side innocently, as if he has no idea what you’re talking about. God, how he drives you crazy. “Please, I’ve been good.” 

Has he? You can’t tell anymore. He's poisoned your mind so much you can't think straight. 

You sigh, jerking him off fast, hard, knowing that the only thing that can soothe your troubled mind right now is watching your tormenter–your everything–fall apart in your grip just like he had done to you over and over again. And he doesn't disappoint. 

“Fuck! Oh, gods, I'm so close.” 

“Gods?” You laugh. That’s new. “I'm your only god, baby.”

“Yeah… only you.” He easily agrees with whatever you say, no thoughts behind his big adoring eyes, his body lying limp in the bathtub, only his hips moving to meet your fist everytime it goes down to smack against his pelvis. “Wanna cum for you. Worked so hard for it.”

“You did, didn't you?” You coo, one of your thumbs brushing against his hard nipples while the other teases the slit of his leaking cock. “Worked so hard to take care of me. Just need a little bit of attention in return, don't you?”

He nods eagerly, his lewd unabashed moans echoing all around the small bathroom as his high builds and builds, not daring to snap without your divine order. “Please, please…”

“Poor baby.” You tsk, looking at the man laid out before you and knowing in your heart of hearts that he was far from innocent. 

Rotten. That's the word that comes to mind when you look at him and you can't put your finger on why. But then why does he still look so beautiful to you? 

“Cum for me, love.”

“Yes! Thank you!” He cries out, his cum shooting out of his cock and immediately dispersing in the soapy water, tainting it like he's tainted you but you can’t get yourself to get away from it, the same way you can't get yourself to get away from him. You're rotten too now.  

“I love you so much.” He slurs as his body sinks into the water. 

“I know.” You do. It's the only thing you can be sure of anymore in the confusing mess that has become your life. That and “I love you too.”

___________________________

“Taehyun, what are you doing here? How did you get this address?” Your slow dreamy life comes into sudden disturbing focus when you see the one person you've been hiding from standing right outside your door. But your barrage of questions can't stop him from pushing past you into the apartment and back into your life. 

“I got your address from Yujin.” He explains once he's in and you look around in worry. He shouldn't be here. You'd barely managed to convince Beomgyu not to hurt him when he found out you had kissed him. What is he going to do if he finds him alone with you in the apartment while he's at work? You can't even let yourself think about it. It's too terrifying. You need to get him out. Why the fuck would Yunjun give him your address? Is she doing this to get back at Beomgyu? To get back at you? 

“Please leave. Beomgyu is going to lose his shit if he sees you.” You tell him as if that's not the understatement of the century. But Taehyun doesn’t appear to be phased. 

“I know. He is very dangerous. That's why I'm here.” He tells you, calmly acknowledging your statement that would have anyone else possibly running for the hills. “I have to tell you something. I think you were right. I think the dreams are memories.” 

You freeze in your spot, all thoughts of getting him out of here suddenly put on the backburner. What the hell is he saying? Has he gone crazy too?

You have secretly, shamefully, been harboring that rotten suspicion for a while now. The dreams just all felt too real to just be dreams. Nothing that vivid, that detailed, could just be the product of a slumbering mind, right? Besides, it didn't even stop at the dreams. You were having these “recollections” even while you're awake now, but you don’t dare believe them to be real memories because what would that mean for you? Best case scenario is that you've officially lost your mind and worst case scenario is that all of those dreams and images actually are real and Beomgyu really did all those awful things. You did all those awful things for him. 

“What makes you say that?” You gulp, asking cautiously. This feels like one of those moments that could forever change the trajectory of your life and maybe if you keep a cool safe distance away, you'd come out of this unscathed.

“I have been having more of them too. They have been plaguing my every sleeping moment, my every waking moment. They’re driving me insane–” He looks up at you and his expression almost knocks you off your feet. You know that look all too well. You see it in the mirror every day now. It’s the look of someone feeling themselves going mad and hoping that they really are because the alternative is just too cruel to consider–all the grief, all the blood, all the loss. No, it’s simply too much to bear, and you can hear the same torment you’re running from twisting his voice as he goes on. “Memories of us together… we were married in your dreams, right?”

His face is afflicted with an agony so raw it lashes against your skin in thick, bitter strokes that leave you gasping.  You never told him that. How did he know that? Okay, calm down. Breathe. This doesn't mean anything. He just had a lucky guess. Nothing more. 

“Yeah.” You admit slowly, watching him cautiously as if waiting for a further attack from him, and he doesn't disappoint. 

“You left me for him.” He says, an accusation in his voice that makes you falter. He is speaking to you as if he’s now fully convinced that the dreams are true, as if you really were married and you’d left him for Beomgyu. 

“No!” It feels strange defending something that a possibly fictional, possibly real version of you may have done because she's not you!--or is she? You didn’t leave him but you did. You don’t have to answer for her crimes but you feel compelled to try to anyway. “I thought I was saving you.”

But that just makes him angry, his fury so deep it couldn’t possibly have just been born today. It feels ancient, the edge of it sharpening over centuries. “Don't lie. That's not why you left.”

“It is. I swear. I just wanted to save you. I wanted to save everyone.” Your words sound insane even to your own ears but they're tumbling out of your mouth before you can even fully process them, again feeling compelled to defend yourself. You don’t even understand half of what you’re fighting about–your only aid in this battle are half-formed images of a fabled previous life you don’t want to remember.

“You’re lying to yourself.” He spits out bitterly, his visage taking on a hue that makes him look much older than he actually is–that makes him look like the Taehyun from your dreams, afflicted by loss and death and forced to grow up way too quickly. And here he is again, aging years in the blink of an eye. “You knew how crazy he was. You knew he wouldn't stop and you didn’t care. You just wanted to go back to him. You never fucking cared.”

“I didn't. I swear to god–” The way his conversation was heading brings a fresh wave of nauseating deja vu crashing onto you. You shake your head, trying to dispel whatever Folie a deux you both seem to have fallen victim to. You need to pull the plug on this insanity before you completely lose your mind. 

“Forget it. This is insane. Those memories aren't real. We're just working ourselves up into a frenzy. My brain has obviously sprung up all that shit out of my anxiety regarding me and Beomgyu's relationship, and after I told you about them, you started dreaming them up too.” You narrow your eyes at him as you attempt to rationalize your way through this mess, “Or you're taking advantage of my obvious mental instability to convince me to ditch my boyfriend to be with you.”

That must be it. It's the only explanation that makes sense and you try to hold onto it like a woman drowning, but Taehyun refuses to let you. 

“For fuck's sake, woman, wake up!” He grabs you by the shoulder and shakes you as if he could forcefully shake off the walls of denial you’ve been trying to build around yourself. “It's me. We've been reincarnated again for some sick reason and we're forced to relive everything we've done again, just in a different setting. Maybe it's a punishment. Maybe it's a test to see if we would choose differently. Choose right.”

“And the right choice is you?” You ask and he scoffs, looking affronted by the mere idea of there being a question about it. “It clearly isn't him. After all he's done to you. He imprisoned you. He raped you… He killed you.”

He looks as if he doesn't fully realize what he'd said until he’d said it, as if the returning memory was compelling his tongue to speak before it's been fully realized in his brain, and as the memory passes through him to you, you suddenly feel a sharp, piercing pain in your abdomen. It only lasts for a second but it draws the breath right out of you. For that second it feels like your soul is being carried away on that breath and you panic at the terrifyingly all too familiar sensation of dying. No. No. No.

But just as suddenly as that breath was exhaled, it was shoved back into your chest when Taehyun covers the phantom wound with his hand. Your own hands quickly clasp around his, and your eyes widen in a gruesome realization. 

“He killed our baby.” You whisper, your face suddenly wet with tears you didn't realize were there. Oh god. You're the dead ex-girlfriend, aren't you? There was never anyone else. It was always you.

“He did. He wasn’t going to let anyone have you if he couldn’t. Even your own child.” Taehyun says, allowing a painful melancholy back into his voice. “So he stole you from the world.” 

You and Taehyun slowly and fearfully piece together this traumatic past life you seemed to share, some details you had already recalled before while others were triggered by Taehyun’s own mad recollections. It's not a perfect story. There are many gaps in it but the main frame is enough. 

You were a Lady at Prince Beomgyu's royal palace. You loved each other but couldn't be together because he was betrothed to someone else, couldn't even tell eachother. But Beomgyu was secretly plotting to keep you bound to him, and it was working until Taehyun came into the picture and you developed an interest in each other. Beomgyu didn’t like that and he went crazy and… he hurt you. That pushed you to finally escape from him and marry Taehyun but your marriage wasn't perfect and Beomgyu took advantage of that. He threatened the lives of thousands, including Taehyun, if you didn’t go back to him. Taehyun told you not to but you did. You thought you'd be saving him and everyone else but you had just stupidly walked into Beomgyu's trap. He never intended to let Taehyun live. And when you finally realized your mistake, when you saw Taehyun's life on the line, you acted in a moment's frenzy to save him, plunging your knife right into Beomgyu's heart and ultimately succumbing to a fatal wound he dealt to you in response with a kiss and a promise that he'd find you again.

And he did. Gods help you, he did. 

It's a horrific story, disgusting, cruel, and you don’t want to believe it. It can't be. 

“We have to go. We have to leave before he comes back.” Taehyun pulls on your arm but you hesitate, automatically digging your heels on the ground and not letting him move you. He stares at you in shock. “You can't be serious? You're choosing him again after everything?”

You shake your head, panicking. “No, Taehyun–”

You want to tell him that you haven't chosen anything. You just don't know enough to make a decision. You still don't know if any of this is actually real or if you're both just mad. Even if your brain tells you it is, your heart tells you that it can't be true. This is ridiculous. Beomgyu loves you. He would never do this to you. And who is to say that he even knows any of this himself? What if he's just like you and Taehyun were at first, only feeling an inexplicable sense of love for you and hatred towards Taehyun that he doesn’t even understand the source of? Is that why he had been acting so irrational and scared to lose you? Because he has all these emotions he can't explain? 

And what about Taehyun? Yes, you had something maybe in a past life but does any of that translate into right now? Can you abandon Beomgyu and the real love you have for each other in order to build a relationship based just on memories of a previous life that ended tragically for all of you? Did that past Taehyun even love you?

You want to explain all of that to him but you don't even get the chance to before you're interrupted by the sound of keys turning in the front door's lock. 

Your eyes widen and fear grips your heart. Despite what you tell yourself about none of this being real, you suddenly fear for Taehyun's life. 

“Hide. Please, hide.” You try to tell him but he's not listening to you. He has no intention of hiding and you can see that when he grabs your hand and pulls you behind him roughly. 

When Beomgyu steps into the house and sees you, all doubt in your heart about the memories being false dash out of the room with the first word out of his mouth. 

“Again?” He asks coldly, viciously. “I knew from the moment you met him that this would happen. Even centuries later you can’t fucking help but act like a slut when he's around, huh?”

“You knew.” You croak, throat closing up to try to prevent that breath from escaping once again, fear shaking you to your core. “You always knew.”

You were too kind. Too stupid. He wasn't acting crazy because he loves you so much and was afraid of losing you. He wasn't acting crazy because he didn't understand his own feelings. He was acting crazy because he's done this before and he’ll be damned if he lets you ruin it again. 

"Of course I did. I have to find you every time.” 

“Every time?” The shaking spreads to your heart, weakening it, throwing off its rhythm. Your poor, naive heart that doesn’t know what to do with itself when the one person it loved and trusted in the world has been lying to it this whole time. “This happened more than once before?”

He laughs cruelly. “This, something else, the details differ but it's always us. Me and you.” He turns to Taehyun with rage that could hardly be contained in the small room. “Not him. I haven't seen him since that first time. The gods really wanted to piss me off this time.”

“Or maybe they wanted her to finally break free from you.” Taehyun's grip tightens around you–to hold you back or to protect you, you don’t know–something that Beomgyu doesn’t fail to notice, his upper lip curling in a snarl, clearly displeased that Taehyun even dares to touch you. But before he can act out on his rage, you speak up. 

“So what? We just keep getting reincarnated and reliving this misery over and over again?” You’re surprised he hears you when you can hardly hear yourself. 

“You do. Not me. I was only reincarnated once, right after we died. I spent many lifetimes in your tomb, mourning you. I thought that was what I was brought back for and I would've stayed there forever but I was drawn out by the gods who wanted me to realize they’ve sent you back again and again for me to find you. It's amusing to them, to see me suffer and lose you.” 

He knew from the beginning. He knew lifetimes ago and he lied to you from the start, made you feel crazy for having these dreams, tried to gaslight you into believing it was all in your head all while working to put distance between you and everyone else so he can have you all to himself. How long was he going to keep up the facade for? Is this what he did every time or does he always come up with new cruel and unusual ways to break you just like he did that very first time? 

“Why?” You ask lowly and he stares at you in confusion, not understanding the question so you gather up your strength and speak louder, more clearly. You need to finally get answers. “Does it ever work?” 

“Sometimes it does. For a little while anyway, before the gods decide we've had it good for too long and tear us apart again.” He scowls, blasphemously enraged at those mythically evil gods. “At first I thought they were giving us second chances but they're just laughing at us, watching us get together before ripping us apart like a child ripping the wings off a fly.”

“Then why let them? Why keep doing it?” You ask again and Beomgyu directs his anger at you. 

"Would you have been able to have all those memories of us, not just of our first life but every single one after, all these fragments of our infinity together and just ignore it and move on, just pretend like you don't know the other half of your soul is out there waiting for you to complete them?"

You shake your head. No. You've fallen for it before you'd even regained your memories. You can't imagine how brutal it is on him. God, to imagine him scouring the earth looking for you only to lose you again and again in horrific ways… it made your soul ache for him despite everything. 

"I have to keep trying. We were so close this time. We were fucking happy. I worked so hard to make everything perfect for us but you had to ruin it. You had to let him in.” He growls at Taehyun who was unimpressed with his entire confession. 

“If my mere existence was enough to ruin your happiness then maybe it wasn't real from the start.” He challenges, not letting you go for a second. He'd learned his lesson. His hold on you hurts, turns your hand cold and blue but you dare not protest. “You've lied to her, manipulated her and blinded her until she bowed to your twisted will and even then she was still struggling against you every step of the way. If you really loved her, you would let her go. I bet she was the most happy during those lifetimes when you were under the ground in her tomb where you belong. You killed her. You deserve to mourn her for eternity. You don't deserve to get a second chance with her.” 

“It doesn’t matter what I deserve. I know she wants to be with me, which is more than I could say about you.” Beomgyu’s face twists in a sadistic grin. “Despite everything, she still can’t live without me. You know, because you've tried to make her. She never loved you and it kills you to know it.” 

That works. Taehyun lets go of your hand and lunges at him. Beomgyu is on the ground before the scream leaves your tense throat. He didn’t stand a chance. You’ve seen Taehyun fight before, and Beomgyu–immortal being that he is–still is not able to weather the flurry of punches Taehyun’s trained fists are raining down at him. 

Taehyun pummels him to the ground right in front of your eyes and you can’t bear to see it. Yes, Beomgyu has hurt you. Yes, he has been lying to you and manipulating you all this time. Yes, he's done unthinkable things for you, to you, but you still can't just stand there and watch him get hurt. You're sick of all the pain. You want it to be different this time. Maybe that's the way to break free of this curse. 

You try to tear them apart but Taehyun is like an unstoppable force that has been dying to be unleashed. You cry and pull and plead but he doesn’t stop, slowly reducing the love of your life into a bloody, gory crime scene before your very eyes and you don't know what to do to stop him. 

It’s only when you see the glint of a knife as he pulls it out of his pocket that you’re able to finally do something to stop the carnage, and you throw yourself over Beomgyu in order to protect him. 

“Please!” You cry out, inconsolable. “Please, stop hurting him.”

Please, don’t take him from me again. You hear her sob from deep inside your soul, getting louder and louder by the second as she struggles to finally break through the rusty door of memory and time. 

“He has to die.” Taehyun growls, looking crazed. “He won't stop until he’s dead.”

No. No more death. That can’t be how it ends again. 

“I can't let you hurt him.” You sob, shielding Beomgyu with your life. You don’t know if this Taehyun would kill you–You don’t know if past Taehyun would’ve killed you–but you can’t let him do this. 

“I knew you would choose me, princess.” You hear Beomgyu’s muffled voice from beneath you and look down to see a demented, bloody grin on his face before you and Taehyun are thrown off him. 

He does it so easily, leaving you to gape at him in shock. If he could’ve done this from the start then why did he let Taehyun beat him up? 

You watch in horror as the tables quickly turn and in the blink of an eye it’s Taehyun that is on the floor and Beomgyu is on top of him with his hands around his throat, choking the life out of him. No matter how hard Taehyun tries to push him off, he does not budge. 

You try too. Beomgyu was never heavy, even you are usually able to throw him around if you really wanted to, but now he is like a rock that can’t be moved. You rip at his clothes and nothing. You claw at his skin and nothing. Nothing happens except the slow snuffing of Taehyun’s breath under him. 

“No. Why are you doing this?” You wail, tears burning on your cheeks. “Just stop. Please. I can’t lose either of you again.” 

But you should’ve known better. You should’ve known that would only make Beomgyu angrier. "This is why he has to die. We were happy before he came along and we’ll be happy again once he’s gone.” 

You can see Taehyun’s face turn blue as he struggles and fails to push Beomgyu off him, the only sound coming from him are his thrashing limbs, no air able to escape from under Beomgyu’s death grip. 

The view is enough to suffocate even you and you quickly say everything you could think of that might persuade Beomgyu to spare Taehyun, even if spelt your own doom. “Don't hurt him. I'll go with you. I swear I will go with you and I won't try to fight you ever again. Just let him go. Let him go and I’ll be all yours.” 

“Your promises mean nothing to me when you’ve broken them so easily before. It doesn’t matter. You’re mine anyway.” He answers, unimpressed and you shake your head. “I will fight you every day if you hurt him. I will never forgive you. You may have me physically but my heart won’t be yours anymore. You’ve fucked up so much Beomgyu. You owe me this.” 

He grunts, his hands tightening around Taehyun’s throat for a second–the poor man’s face almost turning purple now–before he loosens his grip enough to allow a thin, raspy breath of air into Taehyun’s lungs. 

“What does it matter anyway? He'll be reborn again. Away from us.” He spits out angrily, his fingers twitching–dying to resume their vice grip on Taehyun’s throat but thankfully holding back.  

"It matters to me. If you want me to let you have me, you’ll spare him.” 

To your surprise, it is not Beomgyu but Taehyun who speaks up, his voice so uncharacteristically weak coming out of his almost crushed windpipe. “Let him kill me. Maybe then I'll be rid of you.”

The coldness in his voice freezes the air in your lungs, forming jagged icicles that tear you apart from the inside. 

“You've made a fool of me too many times before. I will not live out another life as a fool. Free me of you.”

You hold back your tears. “Taehyun…” 

“You'll never escape from him because you deserve him.” 

Beomgyu looks torn between his fury at Taehyun’s vicious attack on you, and his relief that he’s ruining whatever goodwill you’d built up behind his back, but he seems to settle on the latter, a slow unkind smile warping his lips. 

“See what he is? He was never the better option. He would never love you like I do, unconditionally and forever. Let me kill him. It will do us all good.” His voice turns fearsome on that last appeal and you struggle to remain unshaken in the face of it. Yes, you deserve this. If all the little and big pieces of your past life that have come back to you are real then you deserve to live in a world bound to the monster you nurtured and hated by the one man who tried to break you free from him. 

“Let him live.” You insist, fighting both men for Taehyun’s life now. “Let him live or I’ll make sure that all that you’ve worked for this time will have been for naught. You may as well kill me after him because you’ll never be able to have me in this lifetime again.” 

Beomgyu bares his teeth at you like a feral dog, unhappy about your demands of mercy for the sake of the man who in his eyes was the reason he lost you–and by the sounds of it is intent on doing it again.

“If you keep me alive I will hunt you both down until I kill you.” He warns and Beomgyu looks at you in a silent plea, like a child begging to pour salt on a slug, but you shake your head at him. 

Do you not care about his threat? Of course you do. Do you not believe him? Of course you do. But just like before, you've got no one to blame but yourself and Beomgyu–Beomgyu because he forces the strings of fate to weave to his will and bring you together no matter how ugly and knotted it ends up making your lives, and you for always stringing along innocent people into it, tying them up into a mess that isn’t their own. 

“Come on, Beomgyu.” You put your hand out to him. “Let’s go.” 

You see the vitriol in his eyes soften at the extended hand. You know he wants to take it. He wants nothing more than to take your hand and disappear forever with you–Taehyun is an afterthought to him, this entire life just a distraction in the grand scheme of things–and so he does. He reaches out to take your hand, but not before he grabs Taehyun’s head, smacking it against the hard ground and knocking him out. 

You gasp at the violent action, withdrawing your hand in shock but Beomgyu doesn’t let you, reaching out to clasp it tightly in his own hand, reminding you that once you give him something, you can never have it back. “Beomgyu!”

He rolls his eyes, standing up and pulling you flush against his body. “He’ll live. Might take some time to recover, or better yet he’ll be dumber for it, but he’ll live just like you wanted. Now forget about him and just focus on me.” He grabs your chin and turns your gaze away from the unconscious Taehyun and towards his own face. “You have to hold up your end of the bargain now princess or you'll pay with his life.” 

Of course. Even this small act of kindness couldn't be selfless. He only did it in order to ensure your good behavior. As long as you live, you’ll have to appease Beomgyu's demented whims or Taehyun’s life will be on the line. A deal with the devil.

Your lips tremble and you ask yourself. Is this really what you deserve after all? Were the sins of your past life so offensive to the gods that the only way to pay for them is through eternal damnation with your monster? Was there no hope of salvation for you? And would you have taken it if there was? 

“Where are you taking me?” You ask in a shaky voice as he pulls you after him and away from the flat, leaving every part of this temporary life behind. 

"Somewhere no one will ever find us.”

__________________________________

The journey to this place in the middle of nowhere lasts longer than you could’ve imagined, longer than you could stay awake, that it feels like he was really taking you somewhere at the edge of the universe where no one can reach you ever again. You doze off as the adrenaline that had kept you going until now leaves your body, and Beomgyu is more than happy to let you rest in the backseat of his car as he takes you through dark remote areas you wouldn’t have been able to keep track of even if you were awake. 

When you finally reach your destination and groggily step out of the car with his help, you almost think you’re still dreaming, because in front of you is a massive mansion you’ve never seen or heard off before. All the way around was nothing but empty woods, the imposing and impressive structure seemingly completely cut off from the rest of the world. 

You look at Beomgyu in shock, the sleep flying off your eyes at the unexpected sight. 

Beomgyu grins–or at least attempts to through the swelling of his lips, his bloody teeth barely visible underneath. Oh, your poor beautiful boy. He looks like a mess. “Do you like it, princess?” 

“H-How?” You ask cluelessly as he pulls you towards the entrance. “Being immortal has its perks. I knew I needed to make myself a small fortune to show off whenever you were ready to come back to me.” 

You’re in for a bigger shock when you finally step inside the mansion, because everyone and everything here–all the decorations, furniture, servants and household staff gathered around to greet you–are all styled in a way you only recognize from your dreams. The entire mansion looks as if Beomgyu had plucked it straight out of your first life. 

And yes, there are people there. You had been fully expecting this grand building to be running on magic or something ridiculous like that. After all, if immortality and vengeful gods are real, what makes the thought that stupid? But no, there are people here and you honestly can’t tell if they belong to this era or if Beomgyu somehow stole them from your previous life. 

“Welcome home, my lady.” A woman who you presume to be the head of the household staff bows towards you. You just stare at her, mouth agape. She didn’t look like she was wearing a costume or putting on an act. She looked exactly how you remember the staff at the old palace looked like.  

And what did she say? Home? Is this really home? It looked like it–definitely smaller than Beomgyu’s old palace despite how big and opulent it is by modern standards– but you’re scared by how your guards are already going down by the familiar sight. 

Beomgyu nudges you as the woman straightens back up and stares at you in expectation. 

“Uh, yes, thank you.” You chew on your lip and Beomgyu chuckles lightly. “You’ll have to forgive my princess. This is all a bit of a shock for her. I am sure once she goes back to her old self, she’ll be much more mannerly.” 

“Ah, yes, of course. Silly me.” The woman laughed graciously in turn, “The poor dear must be exhausted from all that travel. I know we have all been waiting for her to finally arrive but I suppose our welcome party will have to wait for the morning when she’s properly rested.”

They have been waiting? They knew you were coming. Beomgyu was always going to win, wasn't he? It was just a matter of time. He always does.

“That’s right. She can hardly stay upright from the fatigue.” He pulls you towards him, and you realize belatedly that he’s holding you up by the waist. “Pray tell me that our bath is ready.”

“Of course, my prince. And a fresh change of clothes too.” She chirps happily, proud of her immaculate service. “It’s all waiting for you upstairs.” 

“Wonderful.” Beomgyu turns towards you and smiles, “Let's head to our chambers, love, shall we?”

Your spacious bedroom has an almost equally large ensuite attached to it where some servants were still fussing about, putting extra oils and salts into your bath to make it gentler and more calming, before Beomgyu dismisses them and goes about his familiar habit of bathing both you and himself. You barely register any of it, too preoccupied by the overstated luxury of the place around you to pay much attention to him undressing you and pulling you into the large tub–the water a perfect temperature, the smell heavenly, his touch both gentle and purposeful as he attempts to cleanse you of your previous life. 

You feel both out of place and right at home, the two very different sides of you pushing and pulling as you look around the room. The way this bathroom is decorated and even the products he’s using look and feel more expensive than your entire life had been so far, and Beomgyu appears well aware of that fact and quite pleased with it too–happy that he could finally show off what he’s been dying to for so long. You always had a feeling he wanted to shower you in the finer things and you never understood or accepted it because you thought he was just another broke college student making stupid rash decisions in order to impress his love, but now you get it. 

He makes sure to explain to you the source of everything he’s using and the rare ingredients that go into it, trying to appeal to that old part of you that had apparently yearned for spoils and riches. Of course these weren’t just simple shower products that normal plebs use. These were made specifically for you, just waiting for your arrival. He points out every aspect of the bathroom and the room attached to it that seems to be catching your eye at the moment and tells you how he chose them and where he got them from–how he chose the golden and brown accents because they’re reminiscent of the sunflowers you so adore–how he had the ceiling decorated in shining stars to resemble the stars you would see when you laid in each other’s arms in the palace gardens. It was all so meticulously planned and decorated just for you. 

Is it really for you though? It may have been for a past you but are you still her? Can this extravagance be for you when you never even realized that anyone would ever care to spend so much money on a place that everyone else uses only to get rid of their waste or wash off the dirt and grime off their bodies? 

But as Beomgyu continues to flaunt it all to you, you realize that even a room as ordinary as a bathroom is another space where the rich and powerful can show off their wealth. It’s a room where they go to shed the filth of the outside world away and relish in their highly curated luxury and beauty just as Beomgyu is doing right now–diligently scrubbing that real world off you and washing it down the drain until this fantasy mansion looks like it could be where you belong. 

If just the bathroom was hard for you to wrap your head around, you can’t even begin to describe how lavish the connected bedroom is, but one thing that catches your eye amidst the exuberance of it all is the portrait in the middle of the wall facing you. It’s a portrait of you and Beomgyu, or rather prince Beomgyu and the person you were back then. He is standing behind you in all his royal garb and you’re in front of him dressed in the finest silks and jewelry money can buy, shining like his most prized possession as one of his hands rests on your shoulder and another is seen wrapped around your waist possessively.  

“Do you like it, princess?” He asks after he dries you off with the softest towel you’ve ever felt on your skin, his hands almost mirroring the portrait as his slightly bloody lips follow the curve of your neck, not caring if he leaves small crimson streaks on your skin. “Does the place suit your taste?” 

“It’s…” You utter slowly, eyes jumping around the room as Beomgyu stares at you with hopeful anticipation, waiting for the realization of all his effort, but as you say your next words, his expression falls. “It’s a lot.” 

“A lot?” He scoffs, offended. “The you I know would never say such a word.” 

You gulp. “Well maybe that person isn’t here anymore.” 

Why would you say that? Why would you purposefully upset him when he’s shown you time and time again what he’s capable of? It’s a lie of course. She has always been there deep inside, slumbering but not dead, just waiting for him to come back and awaken her. 

“Not there anymore?” He growls, pushing you onto the impossibly soft bed and climbing over you, not as gentle as he had been so far. “Bullshit. You just need a little reminding.”

He kisses you roughly, angrily, with the weight of centuries of longing that had turned sharp and tender. You can’t help but respond back. Despite your words, she claws her way out of the abyss at his beckoning. 

“Why do you always have to make me work for it?” He growls, nipping at your neck while his fingers find their way between your legs, the easy practiced way he can get you dripping no longer such a mystery to you. He has honed it over lifetimes. “Why do you love torturing me?” 

You? Torturing him? He has controlled you in this life and the first one and probably all others in between. He has manipulated and hurt you in countless ways and yet you’re the one hurting him? 

“Because you deserve it.” You breathe out mournfully, “We deserve it.” 

His swollen lips curl in distaste. “I don’t care. As long as I got you, I don't give a shit about anything else. Let me be damned for all of eternity as long as you're mine.” He kisses you again, the metallic bitter taste of blood combined with his natural sweetness so fitting for him, your corrupted angel. “Always mine.” 

He pushes his fingers inside you and your pussy takes him easily, knowing who it belongs to before even you did. 

The way he has you on your back with your legs open and your feet in the air is a scene you’re sure has recurred over and over again across your centuries with him, repeatedly laying his claim to your pliant body until you can no longer rebuke him, your body knowing what to expect now even if your mind still struggles to catch up. 

You feel Beomgyu pull on your hand to wrap it around his cock, the silent order from him not needing to be said out loud for your body to start acting, your grip on him turning firm as your hand moves in that practiced way over his cock that has his jaw hanging open and his back arching into your touch, his eyes hungrily feasting on the sight of you splayed open and ready for the taking.  But he waits, letting both your desires build up to an unbearable heat. 

“Fuck, Beomgyu… just do it already.” You hiss, sick of the wait. He knows you're his. You've always been and always will be so he should just get it over with. But of course Beomgyu can't let it be that simple. He has to force you to say it. He has to rub your face in it so you won't dare disobey or deny him again. 

“Is my princess in there?” He cocks his head to the side, his thumb flicking your swollen clit, making you bite down on your lip. You can’t bear the way he looks at you. It makes your skin burn. 

“Yes.” A few hot tears fall down the sides of your face. Why bother fighting it anymore? He has won. 

“Does she want me?” He continues, pulling his fingers out and making you whimper at the emptiness as he takes your hand off him so he can replace his fingers at your entrance with the head of his cock, hot and thick, taunting you with what he could give you if you bend to his will. “Do you want me?”

He leans down to press his forehead against yours, locking eyes with you and looking right into your core, forcing you to face him as you give in. 

You let out a pathetic cry. “Yes. I want you. I will always want you.”

“Good girl.” He pushes inside you, letting out a heavy sigh of relief, like coming home after being lost for so long. “I missed you so much. I always knew you'd come back to me.”

He did. This entire mansion is a testament to it. And so you lie there on your back and take it, getting fucked open by Beomgyu, his beat up face not taking away from his beauty. If anything, his bruised and bloody visage contrasts with the backdrop of the elaborate and extravagant ceiling above him and serves to drive home the lengths he’s willing to go–the ugliness and horror he’s willing to let come pass so he can have you, so he can steal you away and keep you as a good, pliant fucktoy for the prince who had always been greedy for more than his fair share. 

“Maybe I should thank the fool for getting you back to me.” He murmurs, making your eyes jump from the glittering chandelier above him to his sparkling eyes that cannot be dimmed even by the blackness around them, that have only been put off once by death itself before he revolted against it and came back for you. “Getting you to remember us.” 

You frown. You know what he means. You were together before Taehyun came into the picture but not fully, not the way he wanted you to be. But now he's slowly getting back the you he's always been chasing, the you he may have only reunited with a few times over centuries. You understand that. Still that doesn't mean he can disparage Taehyun, and it doesn’t mean that you want to be reminded of him. 

“Don't speak of him.” You don't want to hear it. You're here, aren't you? He won and you’re here. He should just let you forget what that has meant for you. 

He smiles, more than happy to not speak another word of Taehyun ever again, and rewards you by bending down to kiss you as he fucks his cock ruthlessly in and out of you, fully devoted to helping you forget. 

“Fuck, I really missed you.” He groans against your lips before pulling back so he can feast his eyes on you. “Now that I have you back I don't think I can give you a break until I show you just how much I missed you. Gotta make up for all our lost time.” He drills his cock faster and harder into you, the wet sounds of flesh meeting flesh ringing around the room so loudly you're worried that all other occupants of the house can also hear it. “Not gonna rest until all your holes are filled to the brim with my cum and you remember just how much I love you.” 

“Gyu…” You whine at his loud promises, fearing the rest of the household is hearing his filth. “Keep it down.”

He laughs, fucking you harder. “Why should I? Everyone here knows who you belong to. They know their master will be fucking his princess every night. Every day. They may as well get used to it now because I don’t intend on hiding any of it.”

“What?” Your cheeks flush bright, surely he is not suggesting what you think he’s suggesting. 

“This isn't our old palace, princess. I don't have to hide what is mine anymore and I expect you not to either. And if that means they can hear or even see me claiming what is mine then so be it. It’s what I always wished I could do anyway.” 

Yes, you know that very well–images of Prince Beomgyu’s attempts at inappropriate touches in public flitting through your brain. You shake your head, whining. “Not hiding, just common decency…” 

“Fuck that. Gonna show the whole universe who this pussy belongs to.” He growls, and you feel one of his hands move between your bodies to reach your pussy, his fingers easily rubbing your soaked lips and making your thighs tense up. 

“Beomgyu!” You cry at the sudden spike in pleasure, your pussy clenching around him when you get no escape from it, his hips incessantly thrusting against yours and barreling you towards what you know will be a blinding orgasm. “It’s too much.” 

He shakes his head, fingers going faster. “Not enough. Never enough. Now cum for me, princess. Make a mess on my cock.” 

As if you could have stopped it even if you wanted to. Your orgasm causes your whole body to seize up–your thighs crash around his thin waist, your pussy spasming on his twitching cock, your nails digging down into the flesh of his back as you throw your head back and cry out loudly, the irony of you asking for decency not lost on your grinning lover. 

“That’s it. Good girl. Now take it. Take all of me.” He grunts, spending himself inside you, the first of the many times he promised you he would. The first of your lifetime together. “I love you. I love you so much.” 

In the heat of it all, it takes you a second to respond, a second too long for Beomgyu’s liking, and he grabs your face and makes you lock eyes with him. “I love you.” He repeats, continuing to fuck his cum into you as he waits for your response. 

“I-I love you too.” You gasp out, your nails digging even deeper into his skin, begging him to give you a break, the overstimulation ruthlessly gripping your own flesh. “I love you. Please.” 

He finally slows down. It takes him a minute to completely stop, and you can see that he didn’t really want to but he does iit for you. “Did you miss me?” He asks, doubt and insecurity plaguing his swollen features, silently asking you to put his troubled soul at ease. He may be a cruel and calculating being sent back to punish you for your sins, but underneath it all he’s still your lovesick boy, your prince whose soul yearns for yours, and it would be the cruelest thing of all to deny him that one thing that keeps him from perishing.  

You nod, reaching out weakly to play with his hair, your muscles cut down by fatigue then completely turned to mush by pleasure. “Yes, I did. I missed you even when I didn’t know who I was missing.” 

He smiles gently at that, letting out a small breath of relief that conveys all his vulnerability before bending down to give you a sweet peck on the lips. “I’m right here. I promise to keep reminding you..” 

You don’t know if he’s promising this to himself or to you, but it leads your mind to troubling questions. 

“Are they going to let us stay together?” You frown, suddenly apprehensive at the thought of those cruel gods he’d spoken of. Now that you have him–now that you know exactly what you’ve been missing, it petrifies you to have him ripped away from you again so soon. If you must be damned to be with him, then let you be with him, damn it!

“For this lifetime, maybe.” He answers hoarsely, uncertainly. “Every time you choose me, we're doomed further. They're just letting us rack up the debt.” 

“Choose? Do I ever have a choice?” Your question is innocent, your mind too scrambled to come up with an intentional attack, yet Beomgyu still perceives it as such. 

“Of course you do. You always do. If you reject me enough times, you condemn me to a hell like no other, to being cut away from you forever.” He answers defensively, needing you to know that you’re not blameless in any of this, and you know you’re not because your heart spasms painfully at the thought of being forever severed from him the same way an artery spasms around itself to keep from bleeding out. “If I force you then it's the same. You have to choose me yourself. That's the only way we can be together.”

A sick feeling of realization hits you. You suddenly get it–why he let himself get beat up by Taehyun. He had to wait for you to choose him. If he had just killed Taehyun and took you away, it would’ve tallied up against him. He had to let you doom yourself. Even if all you’ve done to earn damnation is to hesitate when Taehyun asked you to run away. Even if you did it to save Taehyun, it didn’t matter. You choosing him will always be your sin.

He's right. These gods really are wicked and unjust.  

“Do I choose you every time?” You ask in a small, shaky voice and he frowns, your question prompting what must be disturbing memories to spring to his mind. “Not always but most of the time.”

“What happens when I don't? Do you let me?” You hold your breath, anticipating his response. Does he let you be? Does he force you? Does he hurt you? Is every time you choose him similar to this time and your first life? Could you be pardoned by pleading that you’ve been forced into it or is the sheer amount of times you chose him enough to prove your wickedness beyond a shadow of doubt?

“Why are you asking about that now? You chose me in this lifetime. The rest doesn’t matter.” He brushes you off, goosebumps prickling your skin at his diversion. In his nonanswer lies the truth. No, he doesn’t let you. He doesn’t accept defeat. He never did and never will. 

“Doesn’t that bother you, what they’re doing to us? Forcing us into this cycle over and over again?” You push tentatively. “Don't you want to be free?” 

If you stop choosing each other, will you break this infernal cycle? 

“From you? Never.” He tells you with all the certainty and conviction a man can hold, forehead pressed against yours, your breaths intermingling as if your souls are greeting each other. “Darling, if they give me the choice between heaven and you, I would choose you every time. My existence is meaningless without you, salvation is nothing to me if I can't be with you. I would go through this hell again and again just to spend these precious few moments with you. Let me suffer alone for lifetimes if it means I get even one day like this to feel your love once more.”

Your heart swells, different emotions warring inside of it–eternal love for him, happiness that he is so devoted to you that even death can’t keep you apart, anger that he won’t grant you salvation, hate for everything he’s put you through, horror that you will never escape, soul deep fatigue at the weight of it all–but you can’t even begin to untangle them from each other because he doesn’t let you. This is your reunion and he won’t let it be ruined by your doubts. 

Instead, he flips you over, pushing you onto your tummy and pulling your ass up, the sound of him jerking his drenched cock to hardness the only thing you can hear over the ringing in your ears before you feel it breaching your pussy to fill you up again. He lays himself over you, his hips immediately go to work fucking you, making use of every moment he has stolen with you. 

“Gyu…” You whine, mind too fried to care much about the way you’re drooling over the expensive sheets. “Too fast.” 

“I’m sorry, princess. Just wanna make up for all the lost time. I promise I’ll be gentler later, will take care of you so well.” He babbles, the strain of the pleasure he’s getting from your tight walls evident in his voice. “Promise. Just be good for me tonight. Okay?”

You get it–his desperation, his insatiability. This is one of the only few times in his long, lonely existence when he gets to be with you and have you fully in this way–his princess brought back from the unfathomable and untraversable void of death and lost memories for him. And you can’t find it in you to deprive him of you right now. You’ll think about it later. You’ll worry about what this means for your soul’s eternal damnation tomorrow, but for tonight, you’ll let him have you. You’ll let your rotten souls rejoice in the company of their other half. 

“Okay.” You mumble dumbly, letting him take you like a bitch as tears of overstimulation line your lashes and your fingers clutch tightly onto the sheets. You can’t even pretend that it doesn’t feel good, every thrust of his hips, every touch of his hands, every filthy word he says, every load he release inside you–it all shifts and molds you into the wretched lover he’s been searching for, the walls you’ve built up to contain her getting torn down with every position he takes you in until you lay limp with no fight left in you and it’s revealed that there is no one behind those walls. There never was. She was always you. 

When he’s finally has his fill, and you’re more dirty and ruined than you ever were before the bath, he lays down next to you and takes you in his arms–his tight embrace suffocating and hot after what he just put your body through but he doesn’t care. You don’t care. You’re with each other, and that’s how your story always ends and begins. You've been here many times before and you'll be here for many more to come. 

You are at the edge of sleep, almost falling over, when you hear a small sniffle and feel him shake ever so slightly under you. You look up to see his teary eyes and you lift your hand to his face to brush those very costly droplets away. “Why are you crying, baby?”

“I'm just so happy. I missed you so much.” He whimpers, his hold on your getting even tighter. “I love you.”

You know. You couldn’t have understood it so fully before but now that you know a fraction of what he went through to get here, you know that his love is not a mere mortal love. It has defied fate itself and it will live on for eons to come. As long as you're on this earth, he'll stay here to find you, and when you leave, he'll follow you wherever you go, be it heaven or hell or the unfathomable unknown. As long as you're together, his wretched and weary soul can find its peace. 

“I missed you too. And I love you.” 

And I'm sorry it has come to this. I'm sorry I let our once precious love grow so gruesome and hideous that this twisted ending is our only version of happiness. 

_______________________________

A/N: aaaand that's the end of this portion of the story. let me know what you think of this ending. less death than usual lol.

would you rather get tyun's ending (mostly tyun focused) or continue the story from where this chapter leaves off (mostly gyu focused)? Or would you rather a new unrelated story entirely?

Here are some teasers for the two ideas

Tyun's ending:

“Where do we go from here?” You ask defeatedly and he narrows his eyes at you.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re clearly angry at me. You don't trust me.” 

“Yeah, and?”

You frown too. How can he not see where the problem lies? “How are we going to stay together like this?”

“Are you thinking of leaving again?” Now he starts getting angry, vindictive, the wrath of the warlord in him cutting through the centuries. 

“No–”

“Because I won't let you. All your bullshit excuses are gone. there is no war. You can't pretend you're going back for the greater good.” His voice is mocking on the last part, and you feel your face heat up.

“It was not an excuse!" You sputter. You can't believe he's saying this to you. "It was real!” 

“You’re my wife. That's what's real and you should've stayed loyal.” He tells you unkindly, not interested in your explanations.

“So you want me to stay just out of principle even if you're just going to hate every second of being together?” It would be funny to see the way he has completely not changed even in this new life if it wasn't so painful.

“Maybe. But I certainly won't be made a fool of again and maybe it's high time you experience some consequences for your actions.”

Gyu's ending continuation:

“How could you do this? How could you be so stupid?” Beomgyu's response to you slipping out for the day seems like a wild overreaction. You know he insists on controlling every aspect of your life so you won't leave him again but going out to walk through the surrounding small village for a few hours could hardly have many consequences. Not when he apparently controls the whole village. 

“You’re overreacting.” You roll your eyes at him but that just makes him freak out more. 

“You don't know what you're risking. He could have found you! He could have taken you away from me!” 

“What are you talking about?” You push him off you. “How would he do that when you know exactly where he is at all times?”

You scoff at him but the scared look on his face makes you falter. “You've lost him, didn't you?”

He doesn't answer you, and you watch his face grow paler. “What is he going to do? You’re immortal.” 

“But I am not all powerful, and there are beings out there more wicked than me.” He tells you fearfully, reaching out to hold you once more. 

Unrelated fic idea:

“Fuck, this feels amazing.” He groans and turns to you, “Can I use him every day?” He asks you cheekily and you grin as you hump against Beomgyu harder. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind. Look at him, he’s soaking my hand with precum.” 

You hear Beomgyu garbled moans around Soobin’s cock and you question him. “What’s wrong, baby? Is Binnie using his big cock right this time?” 

Beomgyu whines again and you laugh at him, but Soobin doesn’t find it so funny, not with his cock getting the full brunt of all of Beomgyu’s vocalizations. “Oh god, I’m close. Can I cum on his face?” 

You grin widely. “Of course, Binnie. I’m sure Gyu wants to help out his hyung any way he can. He’s so needy he’ll let you cover his pretty in cum because he knows that will earn him a reward. Isn’t that right, baby?”

Also you can send and ask for any of the characters and I’ll answer as the character

[princessmaybank]

Crazy JJ Sex Dream

Pairings: JJ x Fem!Friend!reader

Warnings: MDNI, explaining wet dreams

Summary: JJ hearing that you had a wet dream about him that you were telling Sarah and Kiara about

Authors Note: I like cliffhangers if you can't tell! Let me know if you want a part 2!

*Y/N's POV*

"Fine! I'll tell you guys about the dream! But you have to be quiet!" I whisper yelled to the ladies sitting in front of me. I knew the guys were outside and one of the windows was cracked so they could possibly hear something. They both freaked out. "You have a crush on one of the guys?!" Sarah exclaimed almost too loud. I nodded.

"Well John B is obviously off the table." Kiara said looking to Sarah, I only nodded in response. "That leaves Pope or JJ! Unless you just don't want the guys to know about another guy?!" Sarah yelled...again. I shushed her and she apologized.

"It was about JJ." I whispered and their jaws dropped. Anyone could tell they were trying so hard not to squeal.

*JJ's POV*

John B was talking about some stupid shit dealing with Sarah when I heard my name from the room the girls went into. I sat closer to the window to do what one would call eavesdropping.

*Y/N's POV*

"So basically we were at the annual bonfire. You all were there." "Ew we were in your crazy JJ sex dream?" Thankfully Kiara questioned at a whisper. I only nodded back at her. "I was having a fun time dancing and drinking with JJ. He gave me his jacket because I expressed how cold I was to him, which made him get close to me. We started kissing. Pretty heavily might I add."

Both girls were so excited to see where the story was going. They sat criss cross in front of me begging for me to continue. "He whispered in my ear, he asked if we could take this back to the chateau. Of course since it's my brain we magically jumped to the chateau." The girls showed they understood what I meant by giggling.

"He took me inside and laid me on the guest bed. His lips kissed up and down my neck, making me moan when he would suck on my soft spots. Even in my dream he knew what he was doing." I took a pause to sit and think back to my dream.

"He pulled my shorts and panties off, then my tube top. He stopped and admired my body, putting some delicate kisses where he saw fit. He gave me one more sloppy, hungry kiss, before he traveled downward to kiss me below the belt." I secretly squeezed my thighs together after specifically remembering that part.

"Then basically he whipped out his huge cock and flipped me into doggystyle. He said some great things that would make any girl melt, but I'll keep that to myself. Anyways, we cuddled afterwards. It was great. Then there was some more kissing, which led to round 2." I smiled. " What did round 2 consist of??" Kiara asked, getting excited. "I hopped on that dick and rode him like I was a cowgirl!" They squealed so loud then we all had a long laugh. "That sounds fucking awesome." Kiara said. "I'm jealous, I need John B to do that to me." Sarah responded.

Next thing I know I hear the window opening, and JJ peeks in. "What are we talking about ladies?" He asked with a smirk. "Nothin" Kiara was calm. "Nothing!!" I was not. "Just the crazy JJ sex dream Y/N had." Sarah said out loud and realized what she had said but it was already too late. I tried to hide my face from him but he came into the room through the window. "Really? Can I share one of mine?" JJ asked before walking behind me and placing his hands on the back of my chair. The girls nodded eagerly, but in all honesty I really didn't wanna hear JJ talk about dicking some other girl down. I tried standing up but I felt a strong hand push me back into my sitting position.

"It was maybe a few nights ago. I was in my room and this girl came in, gorgeous y/h/c hair, with y/e/c eyes that I could easily get lost in. She was wearing this pretty shade of red lipstick. She was wearing it for herself, but I swear it felt like she only wore it so I could smear the shit out of it." I was slowly getting uncomfortable but the girls were enjoying this. "I sat at the edge of my bed and asked her if she'd be a good girl for me." The girls suddenly felt a little gross about the situation. "I pulled her hair into a makeshift ponytail and she sucked my di-" "Okay JJ you're done, it's not fun hearing you talk about that." Sarah said breaking the news. "You don't wanna hear how I tossed Y/N around, and fucked her so good she couldn't walk straight? What about the time I praised her so well? Or when I was the sub and she dominated me? Maybe the time I fucked her while on the phone with her ex? Or when I went down on her an-" He was cut off by the two girls screaming. He smirked to himself knowing what he did.

Not only was my jaw on the floor, but the girls' definitely were and the guys eventually heard the conversation from the window so they joined as well. "As much as I love telling you all about my sexual fantasies, I think I need to have a private conversation with the star of all of those dreams."

Everyone walked out and while he was turned around to close the window I tried to escape as well. He never turned around he simply said "You have five seconds to get that juicy ass of yours into a chair, baby." I was shocked, but complied.

"What's up Jayj?" I asked, trying to play dumb. He turned around and crouched in front of me. He rubbed his large hands up and down my thighs. "Wanna play a game?" He smirked. Oh fuck...

[furiousgoldfish]

Abusers gaslighting you will most often be about a situation where they did something wrong, cruel, hurtful and abusive, very much intentionally, and then their version of the story switches the blame on you, it depicts you as being the one who is cruel, hurtful and abusive, or alternatively, you're cruel hurtful and abusive for remembering the situation or calling them out for their behaviour, when they claim none of this even happened. If the abusers often gaslight you and try to make you second-guess your own memories and senses, eventually you will struggle with trusting your senses and feel like you can't trust your own memory and have to take on their version. But here's some reasons why gaslighting can be caught onto and confirmed that it doesn't make any logical sense.

If this person/people are claiming that I am the one who is continually hurtful, cruel and abusive, why are they insisting on keeping me in their life? Why do they keep taking measures to make sure I can't get away or am dependant on them, if they truly find me selfish, hurtful, insane, and abusive? Wouldn't they want to make way for me to get away from them, instead of endlessly convincing me that I'm the one who is in the wrong in every single situation?

If I am remembering things wrong, how come it's only the memories where my abuser/s look bad? All memories where they look good are somehow correct, that can't be right? If I remember things wrong, it would be both good and bad, not only situations that make them feel bad about themselves.

If these people seriously believe I'm someone who invents crazy stories of abuse, cruelty and torture, how do they still feel safe interacting with me? Aren't they worried I'll suddenly come up with an imaginary scenario telling everyone they did something horrible to me that they didn't do? Why don't they keep away from me if they truly believe me to be such a freak?

If I am truly someone who is doing awful and abusive things to these people/this person, how come it's never called out until I come out calling them out first? Why is my behaviour only addressed after I speak out first? How come it's never a problem all the other time when I'm not actively trying to figure out what the truth is? How come it's only relevant when they'd like me to shut up and stop asking questions and asking them to acknowledge reality? And then suddenly I am a problem. If I am a problem, I'd be a problem the entire time, not only in specific situations that they want to get out of.

If these people truly believe that I am losing my memories, inventing new memories, can't be counted on to remember the past correctly, or to comprehend and understand what is going on around me, why wouldn't they be concerned about this, and try to get me help? If they truly believe I have memory distortions and reality distortions, wouldn't they want to make sure I'm getting some kind of help, that I'm being supported to get a better grip on reality? How come this is only an issue for them, but no concern for me, other than me being condescendingly told to 'get help' or that I need to be 'institutionalized', in order to scare me, is that how loving people react to their loved one losing grip on reality? People are deadly worried for their loved ones who are losing the sense of reality, this usually happens due to a serious brain disease and people struggling with it can no longer safely take care of themselves; it's a cause for concern and extra care. Yet they show no inclination to want to care or help at all for this perceived 'problem' they claim I'm having, and use it to scare me into believing that this is my own fault. Does It make sense for them to react with such relish and condescension if they believe that this problem is real? Wouldn't they only act like this if they invented this idea in order to hide their abusive behaviour behind the lie that I remember things wrong, and need to shut up about it?

If I remembered things wrong, that would be a discussion, we could sit and talk about how I remembered things and why, instead of my version being shut down and me being told off for even voicing it, that is not a normal reaction. In what situation is a person who 'remembers things wrong' not even allowed to speak their own memories? Why would it be bad that these 'wrongly remembered' events ever come to light? Wouldn't it be interesting to know, if someone remembered something completely wrong, to hear their version? Rather than being dead-set on shutting that down, like those memories are an active threat for their well being.

It doesn't make sense. If abusers truly believe that you're a person disconnected from reality, who is also cruel, selfish, abusive and unreliable in every way, then they would react very differently to you than they do. If they had a truly bad opinion of you, and you were a harmful person to their well being, they would not want to keep you around, they would not dare to take their shit out on you, they would  not dare to tell you what to do, how to think, what to believe, they'd be scared. But they're not. They're instead acting like they're right to control your every movement and thought, and right to tell you which of your memories you're allowed to remember and voice.

Their behaviour suggests there's something in your memories they're dead set on suppressing and hiding, even at the cost of your own sanity. That is not a behaviour of loving, concerned, innocent people.

[exhaslo]

Ghostface!Miguel x Reader PT.1

A little drabble until the poll is done~

Warning: Minors DNI, murder, drugs

It had been a long day and you were ready for some R & R. At least, you wanted to. It was Halloween and you would have loved nothing more than to go home, shower, and watch Halloween specials while munching on some candy and popcorn. That would have been your dream night after a long day of work, but those plans had derailed. One of your dear friends had invited you to a Halloween party. And what's better?

Apparently, your long time crush, Miguel O'Hara, was going to be there.

Now, Miguel was your friend. Had been for years since college. He was as fine as fine could be. You went from good friends to touching yourself to wet dreams of him every night. You had wanted to confess to the man, but he had girls all around him. Miguel was smart and stern. It was like he never took a day off to relax. You wanted to be his stress reliever.

"I can't imagine him at a party. Let alone a Halloween one," You mutter under your breathe as you put your costume on, "I hope this isn't too slutty."

You arrived at the location of the party, growing more worried by the second. This place seemed like those frat parties back in college. Miguel avoided those like the plague. You hesitantly grabbed your phone and noticed an unknown number calling you,

"Um, hello?"

"Hello, (Y/N)" The voice on the other line whispers. You tense slightly,

"Sorry, do I know you?"

"You tell me."

"Look, it's really loud and I'm super nervous right now. I can't even remember if I locked my own door, so I can't say who this is." You admitted, still hesitating on entering the party.

"Why are you so nervous?"

You gulped, "I was told the guy I like would be at a party and, well, it isn't somewhere he would be at...normally. That, and I feel so self cautious with my costume," You admitted.

What harm was there to let your heart out? It did make you feel better.

"Then call him and find out." The voice said in a demanding tone. You sighed softly,

"I was going too, but then you called. Anyway, you are you?"

"Someone willing to spare you."

The call dropped. You stared at the number in confusion, trying to think of who would call you like that. As you finally entered the building, you suddenly recalled the recent murders on the news. The only connection that was made was a random phone call from an unknown number. You heart rate spiked as you immediately called Miguel.

"(Y/N)?" Miguel answered. You bit down on your nail,

"H-Heeeey, so, super random. I was told that you were coming to this party uptown and well....I'm like freaking out because I got this strange call and you know how my brain leads from one thing to another and-"

"(Y/N), I need you to breathe. I'll be there soon."

-----------

You felt relieved when Miguel told you that he was coming. That was about twenty minutes ago. Time was going by slowly and your anxiety was rising. You were on your phone, googling everything about the Ghostface murders. He wouldn't attack you in a public place like this. Right? You were so focused on the news articles that you failed to notice some guys spike your drink.

You tried to calm down by drinking the thoughts away. You had a few shots, plus your tainted drink. Another ten minutes had passed and you were starting to feel woozy. You couldn't focus and decided to head to the bathroom in case you needed to throw up. As you stumbled, your phone rang again with the unknown number.

"Miguel?" You slurred, leaning against the wall.

"..." The voice was quiet at first, "You sound different from earlier."

"I don't feel too good. Migueeeeel," You groaned lowly. The voice grunted on their end,

"Don't hang up on me."

"Hey there, miss. Why don't we take you home?"

Your vision was blurred, but you could see two figures hovering over you. You tried to push them away, gripping onto your phone for dear life. The two men took it upon themselves to take you outside through the back alley door. The phone was taken out of your hands and tossed towards the concrete ground. You tried to complain, but they had covered your mouth.

"Don't think we can wait for the car-"

Before they could even finish their sentence, Ghostface appeared and started to stab them repeatedly. You slumped to the floor, unable to register what was happening. All you saw was red. You tried to come to your senses, barely registering that Ghostface was killing the two men before you. He didn't match the reports. Ghostface was supposed to be a calm and silent killer, not a stabbing maniac.

"(Y/N)! Are you alright?"

All you could do was whimper as you faded to black.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

PT.2 Will be in a bit!

[sleepymccoy]

I have this fic idea for spones where Spock does one of his mind melds on McCoy (which he does so often in canon. That boy's just always wanting to be in McCoy's head. Wassaup?) but when they disconnect the meld kinda hangs on. It's partially a foreshadowing for Spock using McCoy to plant his Katra on zero notice (I have this headcanon, or possibly canon thing I read once and absorbed, that Katra stuff usually requires a lot of structural work to prepare for, but Spock and McCoy fit together so tidy that at some point Spock realised McCoy could take it. And he just kinda kept that to himself lol). But the fic is mostly about them having this residual telepathic connection for the next like 72 hours. And how they go from

Thinking they're hallucinating (I'm not thinking about Spock while I shower I am not) (why am I thinking about McCoy in the shower??) to

Freaked out (get out of my damn head) (I'm trying!) to

Finding the perks (work perfectly in sync in the lab) (McCoy able to triage an injury on the bridge before he even gets there) to

Finding the negatives (no I don't think that's a quality of yours, the fond tone you heard in my brain was about something else) (stop acknowledging my emotions) to

Having a melt down (shouting at Spock while he's in a meeting) (finally snapping and telling McCoy just what he thinks) to

Comforting each other (if you're gonna be in my head you might as well be here) (sorry about this btw) to

Having fun with it! And maybe noticing that there's some complex emotions simmering for both of them (lying at a board game and daring that pretty Spock to call him out on his with his inappropriate brain connection) (calling McCoy out on lying without hesitation, but obviously mulling on the word pretty he caught) to

Realising the connection is getting weaker (should be pleased, but is kind of sad and can't figure out why) (exasperated by McCoy not understanding his own feelings. Def not feeling anything at all over here) to

I dunno I'm writing this so probably making out about it

Hysterical if they meld again to have mind meldy sex and then they're just like back to the start in each other's heads. Except now McCoy is willing to wank and let Spock know about it

[icarusredwings]

Baby talk 2/2

Trying something new. Be kind (take 2)

A very little wade fic

Ft. Wo-wo, Mama, and 'essy

For @sirwadewilsonfromimgur because apparently people like my brain

"Logan? It's a bit late, what's wrong?" The voice asks over the phone. He wasn't sure why he called her. Why he called Jean. But he felt like she might know what to do.

"Yeah.. sorry, i-.. It's nothing.. I'll go if you're busy - I just.." he mumbles, phone in his shoulder as he begins boiling some water for the pasta.

"Logan... tell me." She says, in a way of someone who knows he won't tell her if he feels like he's bothering her.

"So, I'm... er.." He turns to see Wade laying in his pile of stuffies, watching the movie with large eyes and a curious o shaped mouth. Right now, they were at the part where she was singing in her secret cave, Wade's eyes glued to the screen in awe, as if he hadn't seen this movie 40 times already. "Babysitting... and I don't really know what to do?"

"Oh.. okay. Well how old are they?"

"Young. Really young. Barely talks." He says, trying not to sound nervous out of his mind as he preps the chicken to be cooked.

"That can be as young as 12 months. Are they potty trained?" She asks, trying to help best she could over the phone. Not like Logan would ever let them see him like this anyway.

"God I fucking hope so." Is all he can awnser with a big sigh. "I don't know, I just.. it's so much different then the kids at school."

Chuckling, he could feel that 'well no duh' look in her eyes and that smug smile. "Well, I would hope that 12 month olds are different than 12 year olds. That's 12:1, Logan." She says, and he grunts, nodding.

"Yeah, yeah, I just.. you read parenting books, right? What do they like? Babys, I mean."

Instantly Wade turns, Giving him a small glare and a pount. "MmMmh.."

"My bad, kids this little." He didn't need to understand the whines to know exactly what he was saying.

'I'm not a baby' He always said that.. man.. Wade not talking felt so weird, and it freaked him out, getting to the point he would subconsiously check to make sure he was still consious and that he COULD talk if wanted, but he didn't.

Wade was just quiet today. Al must think it's a blessing but to Logan? This was a nightmare.

"I do" She laughs again, giggling. "Why? Are they misbehaving?"

"Well... No.. but i'm afraid I might..." He mutters, blowing his cover at pretending not to be anxious about this entire thing.

"Mama?" He hears, indirectly awnsering. "No bub. Not your mama."

The woman giggles again from the side conversation. "I'm sure you'll be fine. Do you want me to-"

"NO!!" He screams, watching as Al got spooked, drawing her pistol on Wade, and for once, she had a good shot. "Get off of me!!"

"Well, jeez Logan, you could have just -"

"Sorry! I have to go!!"

Beep.

"Logan??.. He hung up on me." Jean says, miles away. Logan just knows it.

"Althea! It's Wade!! It's just Wade!!" He shouts, quickly coming over to take the gun from her. "He's just.. really little right now. God damn kid, are you tryna die!?" He yells at him, seeing him only try to curl up more into the woman, tearing up.

"Althea, why don't you go sleep in the room, okay?"

The older woman grumbles, shifting. "Baby you can't lay on me like that. You're too big." She says, much calmer now as Logan pulled Wade off of her and set him back on the floor.

"You're too big for that, kid, you're gonna hurt her!" He tells him, only making Wade feel worse.

"..mama?"

"No! No mama. She dosn't feel good and-"

"Logan. Enough. I can take care of myself." She mutters, groaning as she got up.

".. Mama?" Wade says again, his mind very one tracked at the moment. He knew three things. That he wanted held. He liked Mama. And he didn't know why he was so upset with him. Did he hurt her? Was she okay? Wade wished he could ask, but no words seemed to come out when he tried.

"Hi, Honey, Mama's gonna go take a nap. Behave. Both of you." The old woman mumbles, cupping his face and giving him a kiss on the head, stumbling towards the room. "Wake me up when dinner's ready."

"Yes ma'am.." Logan mutters, glancing down at Wade, watching as he wiped his tears, pulling Fluffy and his legs into his chest, sniffling.

Swallowing, he wasn't even sure if he would understand if he apologized, but he needed to anyway. "Hey.. I'm sorry for yelling at you.. I thought... I thought that.." He rubs his hand into his face with an embaressed grumble. "..Honestly, I don't know what I was thinking. You can't even.. well, no, that's not right. It still would hurt, and I guess I just didn't want Mama to hurt you and- "

Wade wasn't even looking at him. He was staring at the Tv, curled up, and didn't seem to be litsening.

Sighing heavily, he looked at the gun in his hand, deciding he should put it up. It wasn't something he should have down with Althea not feeling the greatest and Wade not even being able to put together sentences.

Walking away, he puts it in the closet, making sure to lock it like it was supposed to. God, there were so many weapons in here. It wouldn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that these guns weren't just for hunting or a hobby. No one had this much ammo when owning a gun collection that was "just for show."

Making his way to the kitchen, he stirred the boiling noodles, dumping them in the colander.

"Wo-wo?... wo-wo!"

"Woah woah?" He asks himself, looking up to see Wade pointing at the tv. Prince Eric had picked up Ariel and was now twirling her while smiling.

"Wo- wo?"

Tilting his head, he thought that perhaps this was cool to Wade. "Yeah, Wow buddy. That's amazing." He says but Wade gave him a dirty look. One that usually was his 'Bitch? Thats not what I said' squish of his non existing brows.

"Wo-wo. Ups?"

"Ups?"

"Wo-wo, Ups?" He grins, putting his hands up as he did the grabby motions again.

Oh. That made more sense. "You want me to do that to you?"

Wade nods, crawling about two feet before doing the hands again.

"Mmh... okay, but just once. And then I have to cook. Deal?"

Putting the butter in the pan, he came to pick him up, raising him up. The small squeal and the wide, sparkly eyes said all that Logan needed to know. When put back down, Wade claps.

"Yaay!"

Logan couldn't help but smirk. Really? That's all he wanted? "Heh.. yeah.. Yay." Was it that simple? This.. easy??

Vanessa made it sound so much more complicated when she talked about it. But then again.. I guess Vanessa wasn't as strong as him either, so it must have been difficult for her to hold him. The idea of her holding a 6'2 man on her hip made him snort.

She was strong, obviously, most dancers had to be, but dancers were lean and nimble as well. Logan was much more on the heavier side, so it was far easier for him.

"More?"

"More ups?" He asks, despite seeing his hands reach up. It wasn't the fact that he didn't know. Rather, he wanted confirmation.

"Wo-wo, Ups!" He smiles, excited and happy to be given the attention.

"Ok, ok, but last time, alright?" With another nod, Logan picks him up again. This time, Wade wraps his arms around him tight, nuzzling him again.

Sighing, Logan rubs his back, letting his chin go to the top of his head. "I can't hold you forever, you know... I have stuff to do.." he mumbles, bouncing just a bit in his knees, keeping his arm under his bottom so he didn't drop him.

"You're a good kid, Wade but I really do have to cook."

The whine that comes out of Wade is desperate for attention, lonely even. As if he just told Wade he was leaving and never coming back ever again.

"I come."

"No, sweetheart.. you'll get burned." The bouncing stops as he tries to set Wade down but he holds onto him like a kitten whos afraid of being dropped too far.

"Come on, let go. You'll be okay in here. See look. She's using a fork as a comb. Isn't that funny?" Logan says, trying to distract him enough to stay put. Vanessa wasn't kidding about the wanting held part. He was quite literally clinging to him like his life depended on it.

"Alright, get off. Here- do you want this? Take it." Putting him down, he took his hoodie off with him, letting him hold it as he stood. "There. Now stay. Im trying to make you some noodles, bub."

Finally getting to walk away, the look on his face hurt his chest.. just a bit anyway. The way he watched him go with such sad eyes and clutching the hoodie close to him. As if he was abandoning him.

Eh. He'd be fine. He could still see him in the kitchen so there wasn't really any reason to worry.

In said small kitchen, Logan put together the sauce, butter, and some seasonings, starting to stir it when he glanced towards the tv, doing a double take because Wade was missing.

"Wade?" He says, only to be met with him tugging on his jeans. The sight was something he wasn't prepared for, Wade put his hoodie on, and it was too big for him by at least two sizes. "Wo-wo!"

"Woah woah huh... wait, is that me?" He asks, tilting his head. "It's an L, bud. L" he made the L noise for him. "Lo-Lo."

"Wo-wo."

His eyes roll. "What ever. Come on, kid get out of the kitchen. You're gonna burn yourself."

This lasted about 2 seconds before Wade came back in. "Ups?"

At this point, dinner was practically done. Now, just have to finish it up and serve. "Fine... but don't touch anything."

"Yaaay!!" He claps, reaching up only to get scooped up and put on his hip, holding him with one arm, the other stiring.

"Yeah... yay.. fuckin' brat.." Wade was always getting what he wanted.

Wade giggles, holding his neck and once again snuggling up to him.

"Yeah, yeah, that's enough. Just be good. Don't touch. Ouches."

"Ow?"

"Yup. Ow."

So now, here was Logan, an almost 400 pound man holding 150 pound 6'2 guy on his hip, stiring and plating dinner. With his head on his shoulder, Wade calmed down immensely from being carried, just watching what Logan was doing and silent.

Dipping his finger into the sauce, Logan held it up. "Do you like this?"

Taking the finger in his mouth, Wade immediately made a 'mmmh' noise, nodding.

"Good. Do you want it on the side or on top of your noodles?"

" 'op."

" 'kay." Putting the sauce on top, he began to make Als.

" 'essy?"

"Huh?" He asks, not sure.

" 'essy??" Wade points to the plate.

"No. Mama's."

"Mama?"

"Mhm. Wo- wo's." Logan points to his own.

"Ooooh! Yummies."

"Yup.. Yummies..." he says, only to become embarrassed, face heating up as he grunts. Man... damn this baby talk..

____

A little later, after dinner, Wade came out of the room, looking almost ashamed, wearing Logan's x-men athletics department hoodie, the back saying 'HOWLETT' in big letters.

He was playing with his hands as he came to him. "Hey.."

Glancing away from the Tv, Logan was a bit confused, Not now sure if he was still small or not. "Hey?"

"I-.. im sorry.. for.. ealier. I know you don't like that stuff. I don't really.. know.." It seemed the farther he got into the apology, the tighter his voice got, his eyes becoming glossy.

"Hey-hey, stop. Why are you crying? You don't have anything to be sorry about. You're alright. Everything's okay, Wade. Sit." He says, patting next to him, but he just shook his head, rubbing his arm.

"No. I-it's not okay. You didn't ask for that. And you don't like t-taking care of me like that-" he wipes his eyes with the sleeves, clearly feeling bad about being so small infront of him.

"What? No, hold on. I never said that. I'll always take care of you." He says, a little frustrated that he would think differently.

"B-but you-"

"Shut the fuck up and come here."

Swallowing, He hesitantly sat on his lap, letting Logan pull him close and kiss the tears from his eyes. "Don't you ever say that shit again, you hear me? If I didn't want to take care of you, I would have left a long time ago. It was just.. odd at first. Because I've never seen it before. That's all. Just because something is new doesn't mean it's bad. You taught me that, idiot."

Sniffling, he shifts to nuzzle up under his chin again, curling up to be as small as possible, letting the man hold him in his arms. "I-i don't.." he heaves.

Logan is patiant, holding his cheek and rubbing his breath. "Shh.."

"I-i don't even know why I did that. I just.. it just happened." He whispers.

"That's alright. You don't have to know everything... a little heads up would be nice though." He mutters, pulling him up more to rub his cheek on him the way he liked.

Sniffling again, he smiles softly. "I'll try.. worst case senerio I just ask you to pick me up."

"Tell ya what. You ask me to pick you up and I will. Just... not during missions. I don't wanna have to slice a fucker in half because he shot you when you're small."

Wade giggles, his heart rate finally settling down as he listened to Logan's. "No promises.." letting out a big sigh, he let his body relax, taking a few deep breaths, nestling into him, the smell of the hoodie making him tired. "..I love you.. a-And thanks for not letting Al shoot me.."

Logan's eyes widened. He did hear his apology. A soft half lidded smile came to his face, glad that it wasn't for nothing. "I love you too.... cry baby."

"Can you guys shut up? Wheel of fortunes on." Al says, feeling much better that she too has had a nap and a good meal.

Sigh... that was their Althea.. keeping them humble.

The little giggle that came from him and the rythemed breathing following told Logan that he would be stuck in this spot for quite a while. Oh well... He was always up for a good nap.

"...Morons." The old woman says with a hint of fondness in her voice, hearing not one but two sets of snores. It was music to her ears.