#just imagine how ridiculously confusing and painful that whole thing must have been???

[okaybutlikeimagine]

i'm LOSING my mind over this tommy story you wrote??? y'know the "woman throws copy machine out of window - i said keys?? vine"? the copy machine is my feelings and i am not okay. like lmao i didn't even really have an opinion on tommy beforehand, but now... poor boy :'

aaaaah! i’m simultaneously SO sorry but also not!

i honestly didn’t use to have that much of an opinion on Tommy H. either, other than I adored Chester Rushing’s freckles and also I thought he was kind of a brat. and like, i’m usually very much drawn to bratty characters, but even then i didn’t care very much.

but then Chester Rushing had to go and talk about how he’s CONVINCED his character Tommy has had a crush on Steve since they were kids and that he wants Tommy to come back in S3 to fucking SACRIFICE HIMSELF FOR STEVE??? GOD. truly he’s the one to blame. the goddamn NERVE of that boy…

either way, i’m OBSESSED w/ that idea now, and I love that song that I linked and i was listening to it one day and consequently made myself cry just thinking about lil freckly Tommy H. and how it like……. totally has gay-unrequited love potential. I’m truthfully just glad anyone liked it at all bc i really liked writing it (as upsetting as it was to do so  😂) and i was SO worried that the style would be off-putting/irritating/tiring for people to read. I’m just glad anyone had the energy to read it.

and like……. AUGH it makes so much sense to me?? if Tommy is anything other than straight, who ELSE would he have a crush on?? and i think that Steve may have also had some ~Feelings~ for Tommy that bordered more on Curiosity and then kind of fizzled out from his own internalized homophobia. PLUS Steve like… held himself in a weird sense of power OVER Tommy in S1??? I dunno if you’ve seen that post about how Steve is clearly the Ringleader and Tommy is the muscle?? like, there’s that scene where Tommy’s about to rough Jonathan up and everyone’s looking at Steve to tell Tommy to stop. Like… I think they’re friends but I also think to a certain extent that Tommy was just kind of a tool for Steve in certain situations and I need someone to look me in the eye and tell me Tommy wouldn’t notice that shit bc he 120% WOULD notice. and probably be okay w/ it so long as he gets to keep his friend w/ him but then he doesn’t even get THAT. and like… Steve just CHANGED and it’s partially Tommy’s fault, for sure, bc Steve definitely changed for the better and Tommy didn’t change with him.

but just imagine everything that could have possibly lead up to it!! like, they have a whole history we don’t even KNOW about which I guess is why i wanted to write that thing bc I think Steve was probably a very selfish kid/teen growing up. and I don’t exactly blame him completely. He’s an only child and his family is wealthy and he’s attractive, so like, of COURSE he’s used to getting what he wants. and that comes w/ not really minding other people and their feelings. and Tommy’s always just been there so maybe he takes advantage of that. like, Tommy’s not gonna leave him bc for as few friends as Steve himself seems to have, Tommy has less. Tommy needs Steve as much as Steve needs Tommy- maybe even more.

and so when he drifts away Tommy just doesn’t get it. I can’t imagine Tommy understanding. Suddenly Steve is so obsessed w/ this girl he doesn’t even laugh at Tommy’s jokes anymore and what’s up with that? and then Tommy makes a “friend” in Billy and he thinks he has something over Steve and he gets to watch Steve get bullied too and it’s like payback for all of these stupidly confusing feelings Tommy’s had his whole life but then that implodes on itself bc Billy gets what Tommy’s always wanted. and maybe it’s not okay to think of Steve like that but it’s true for Tommy. He had Steve first and imagine Tommy’s grief and pain seeing Steve leave him so easily… and so many times. Seeing Steve get rid of Tommy so fucking easily, for Nancy and then Jonathan and then Billy like, he even takes Billy away from him and how is that fair??

I DIGRESS. didn’t mean to rant, i just have so many THOUGHTS on Tommy i could explode. for as much of a brat as he is, he’s also still a kid like the rest of them and i just… love to try to put myself in the shoes of others.

anyway, please watch this video of Chester Rushing being the cutest little jelly bean and talking about how Tommy probably definitely had a crush on Steve. legit the BIGGEST Stommy shipper, he’s such a cinnamon roll.

[bibbykins]

Double Date

A/N: Hello my dears! I'm not done with the Jin and/or Hobi confession yet but I did write this little flashback last week and think I'm finally ready to post it! This is the situation in which Jimin discovered MC's reaction to yelling, just to clarify. As always, please hop into my ask box and give me some of that lovely feedback!

Note: This is a flashback as part of the drabble series The Household's Bunny, which I recommend reading the installments of prior to this one

Word Count: 4.2k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Jimin x Chubby! Reader

Warnings: Lying, fatphobia, usage of the word "fat" as an insult, talks of sex, yelling, vomiting, implied previous trauma, bad friend, loser date, verbal argument, implied stalking, yandereish behavior

Summary: On a double date was not how Jimin imagined your first date with him going. Let alone, a double date in which you both are with someone else. The torture of sitting next to his ex and watching you with another man was well worth it to see you up close. He could only hope you and his "date" don't mind his blatant staring at you.

Jimin often wondered how he ended up so stupid sometimes. From prodigy orphan to absolute idiot. It was a little tragic. Here you were, back from the hospital, a smile on your face, sitting across the table from him… and he was on a date with your friend Yoora.

Sure, Yoora was fine, but she wasn’t you. That’s why they had broken up in the first place. He just… didn’t like her. Of course, he omitted the fact was that he liked someone else.

You, on the other hand, were on a date with some lowlife he hadn’t even bothered to remember the name of. Yoora had begged Jimin to go on a date, to which he vehemently denied. He had dated Yoora and things fizzled out quickly, so he saw no value in going on a date again. He only budged with her begging when she said it was for you, who was apparently too nervous to be on a date alone with this other guy. He sprung at the chance to see you outside of class, something he could only hope Yoora didn’t notice. Although, Jimin couldn’t help but wonder why you would go on a date with someone you weren’t comfortable being alone with, but maybe he was just bitter you were going on a date with someone that wasn’t him.

You flashed Jimin a brief smile in between your chat with Yoora, making his mind go blank. Fuck, you were so pretty. You wore a simple white turtleneck with a brown plaid skirt and brown loafers with white socks to match. You looked unbelievably cute, even against the aged neon fabric of the chairs at the bowling alley. Not that your date appreciated just how divine you looked, hardly paying you any mind, instead looking around constantly and only really responding to Yoora.

Not that Jimin was being much better to Yoora. His eyes were constantly fixated on you, but both you and Jimin unaware of this blatant fact. He hadn’t been this close to you outside of the classroom in… well, basically ever. He watched with hearts in his eyes as you bowled your second gutter ball. He laughed as you bowed cheekily before returning to the table right as your date went to bowl.

“I’m so full!” Yoora exclaimed as you sat back down, the pizza you both agreed to share only having two slices out of it as you reached to make it a third, “I don’t know how you can eat more than one slice, y/n! Good for you.” She giggled obnoxiously as your moves faltered in setting the pizza on your plate.

Jimin’s eyes landed on Yoora’s form for the first time in the whole night with a displeased look. Her form shrunk under his sharp glare and any future taunts she had planned died on her tongue as you searched for the words to say, “She’s just keeping herself nourished for me, aren’t you babe?” Your date spoke with a slimy voice as he slid in the booth next to you and Jimin watched confusion fill your face. Jimin’s smile noticeably dropped.

"It's a little silly to imagine everything she does is for you, no?" Jimin gave your date a pointed look, all with a smile on his face, as your date also shrunk, nodding awkwardly.

The most input your date ever gave to you directly was about how hot you were or to chide at your poor bowling skills. It was a little painful watching your smile fade throughout the date, and Yoora joining in to try and make you feel even worse wasn’t helping. Jimin couldn't imagine a scenario in which any of this would make you happy, and he just couldn't hold his tongue the entire time.

“I’m just hungry.” You shrugged, figuring Jimin was just being a gentleman in lightly scolding Jihoon, “I eat when I’m hungry, hence the pizza.” You spoke simply as you took another bite. You knew what Yoora was doing. Passive-aggressive slights to your weight in front of romantic partners were not shocking to you in the slightest.

This was why you didn’t want to go on a double date with Yoora. Sometimes she was nice and funny, but other times she was like a mean girl straight out of a teen movie. This was why you considered Yoora more acquaintance than a friend since she only talked to you when she had no other friends around. This dynamic was fine enough since you hadn’t made any friends in college, so having someone to interact with was nice enough, but you drew the line at her getting this intimately involved. However, she insisted she should bring herself and Jimin along for your safety. You had joked you’d like to see Jihoon try to carry you away to kidnap you, but she didn’t laugh.

It was ironic that your weight was only funny when she was making the joke.

Yoora shrunk a bit as she watched a smile grace Jimin’s features again while you ate, “I’m gonna use the bathroom.” She spoke hurriedly out of nowhere and you gave her a small wave.

Your date resumed his survey of the building before his eyes caught sight of something and went wide, “Shit, a friend from my bio lab is here.” He murmured quite loudly before turning to you, “I’ll be right back.” He spoke in a similarly rushed tone as he made a bee-line to the restroom.

You gave Jihoon a weak smile, waving him away when you realized he didn’t even look at you for a response before getting up. Well, there goes another liar. Last night it was, “Baby, you’re so beautiful. I could see myself marrying you. Let me take you on a date and then we can come back to my place and seal the deal.” You were no longer so naive as to think a simple handjob would make Jihoon a romantic, but you did hope it would be enough motivation for him to reciprocate with skill. You hated liars, especially liars who do it to get into your bed. On top of that a horny liar with no skill.

Jimin noticed your date dodge the line of vision of his friend and sneak to the bathrooms and frowned, “Why is he going to the bathroom if his friend is right there?” He mused to himself.

“To hide.” You sighed, making Jimin jump, shocked you heard him. You looked up and saw his confusion before sighing, “He doesn’t want to be seen with me, so he’s going to the bathroom.”

Still short-circuiting from the direct eye contact he was making with you, he sputtered, “Wha- Why would-”

“Look at me.” You poked the sliver stomach between the hem of your top and the top of your skirt. Jimin admired the plush skin before snapping himself from the trance.

He shrugged, “I am, and it makes even less sense.” He finally had the determination to hold eye contact with you without his mind going into overdrive and right as you opened your mouth to respond, your phone vibrated.

You looked down at it with a frown, “Yoora wants me to meet her outside.” You mumbled, before looking up at Jimin, “I don’t think I was supposed to say that to you.” You looked at him with a sorry look, “I’ll be back.”

You pushed the front doors open to see Yoora standing with her arms crossed, foot tapping impatiently as she looked around, as if she didn’t send you the text message a mere minute ago. She caught sight of you and her eyes went wide before settling into a smug gaze, “Ah, there you are!” She smiled and it was sickly sweet, “I wanted to tell you Jihoon and I are leaving.”

Ah, she must have been looking around for his car to come around. Well, that’s saving you the awkward conversation of rejecting him, so you shrugged, “Okay.”

Evidently not wanting the nonchalant reaction you gave her she scoffed, “Seriously? You have nothing to say?” For some reason, Yoora would sometimes make it her mission to push your buttons, usually, this was by making you flustered, so you’re not sure what happened to spur on such unadulterated malice.

However, you didn’t really have the energy to dissect it so you shrugged a little more incredulously, “What is there to say? No?” You scoffed, “You guys are consenting adults, you both made a choice-”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Her increase in volume made you jump and also caught the eyes of fellow students and unaffiliated customers just trying to have a night out.

Nevertheless, you blinked wildly, “Me?!” You guffawed, “You’re the one that brought me out here to tell me you’re ditching me and your date?” The whole thing felt so ridiculous.

“Yes, you!” Her hands gestured to you wildly, “My date is oogling you and so I decide to seduce yours and you just say ‘okay’?!” Her volume was increasing and you could feel a familiar nausea pooling in your stomach, “Let me be pissed at you for stealing my date!”

“It’s not my fault I’m hot, nor does that make you less hot.” You countered, not really believing it was you Jimin was interested in, but more so Yoora he wasn’t interested in, “He just doesn’t like you. You said you knew that.” You pointed out, making her falter because you were right. Yoora told you Jimin wasn’t interested in her but she was trying to change that despite your words of caution.

“You? Hot? You’re fat!” Ah, there it was. She was evidently running out of sound reasons to be mad at you but was still not ready to just face the fact that she felt shitty her date looked at the fat girl more than he looked at her.

You couldn’t contain your laugh, “Oh, no shit? I am?” You mockingly looked down at your form, which only seemed to fan the flames.

“Just get fucking mad at me!” She shouted, wiping the smile off of your face

You sucked your teeth, “Stop yelling. You know that yelling makes me-”

She rolled her eyes before losing her mind, “What do I know about you?! You won’t even tell me why you were in the hospital-”

Now you were getting really queasy and annoyed, wanting this to end because at this point she was just yelling at you to feel like less of an asshole, “Because you’ll just tell everyone, and it’s not their business- or yours for that matter!” You felt a little bad criticizing her gossipy nature, but you knew you were going to puke any minute now.

“I’m your friend!” She spat, ironically, in a rather unfriendly manner

You scoffed, “You’re going home with my date!”

This seemed to catch her off guard, almost, almost, making her realize she was simply being an asshole, but she stuck to her guns, “He-He doesn’t even like you!”

“And yet, if we’re such good friends, you’re still going home with him to what? Prove a point to me?!” You were exasperated as you heard his obnoxious car pull up behind you, “I know now he doesn’t like me, that’s what the date was for!” You were beyond tired as you watched her eyes dart between you and the red Mustang, “But now I know that you don’t really like me either.” You sighed and this made her sight settle on your form, her gaze significantly softer.

“Y/n…” Her voice was lower, surrendering.

“It’s fine. You’re not required to like me.” You insisted, “I just wish you wouldn’t lie about it.” This time, you felt a little hurt at your own words, but the bile in your throat wouldn’t give you much time to reflect on it, especially as Jihoon honked his horn, like the gentleman he was, “Well? Go on.” You gestured to the obnoxious car as Yoora got in with her head down.

Not even bothering to wait for them to drive away, you ran to the alley on the side of the building with a hand clasped over your mouth. The moment you made it to the dim-lit hallway of brick, you puked your guts out. The bile burned your throat, but you could still feel a careful hand pulling your hair back ever so gently as another hesitantly rubbed your back. The touch was calming and void of judgment. You figured someone assumed you were drunk and was used to being a hero. However, when you were finally done and stood up, you were faced with the most sought-after man of the Arts department.

“Are you… okay?” Was the first thing that came out of his mouth and you had no real energy to be all that embarrassed. Vomiting took all the life out of you almost every time.

You simply turned back to look at the mess you made and cringed, “Oh shit.” You spoke slowly, “I should clean that up.” You sputtered.

Jimin merely smiled and shook his head as you turned back to him, “It’s an alleyway, come on, someone will just make a worse mess in an hour.” He handed you a water bottle, “Go ahead and rinse.” You looked at him with pleading eyes, his looks were more than enough to make you feel flustered. He seemed to read your eyes as he turned around.

“Thanks.” You spoke up after you rinsed, “But-”

“Let me drive you home.” He waited to hear your footsteps behind him before pressing onward.

He ignored your protests the whole way to his car, brushing them off with a wave of his hands. You had figured it was just him being cool, but the reality was that he was mentally hyping himself up. Now with his anger at Yoora and your date dissipated, he was back to a bumbling mess when it came to you, even if the nagging worry of what could have happened to you to make you throw up at yelling was an ever-present weight he took on his shoulders. The girl of his dream would be in his car, sitting right next to him, and that was enough to make him short-circuit. His face was getting redder and redder just thinking about it. Not that your polite and melodic voice insisting you can just take the bus helped any. Surely you had to know how beautiful you were? He never doubted you knew until today, and the notion made him frown but also, thankfully, calm down.

By the time he opened the door for you, any hints of redness on his face were obscured by the cloak of night over the sky and the dim street lamps. You gave him a short smile and he had to fight a squeal in his throat. Instead, you were met with a strained look, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he even liked you or if he was just being kind. You entered your address on his phone and he feigned looking at the route as if he wasn't familiar with the area. He then texted one of his housemates a name and a license plate number for information and wordlessly began driving.

You simply looked out the window as he seemingly studied his phone, not wanting to make his possible dislike of you worse. Although, you would prefer him not to like you at this point. You were kind of over people “liking” you by now. Jihoon had done no less than confess his undying love for you mid-orgasm and you were ashamed to admit how excited that had made you feel despite the emptiness that could be felt in the air. You had convinced yourself that could just be how love felt. How would you know any otherwise? Part of you knew you were deluding yourself, even if you would never know what love felt like, you knew it wouldn’t feel like that. It wouldn’t feel like the bittersweet taste of settling for less than you deserve in exchange for an escape from the all-consuming loneliness that surrounded you no matter who you hooked up with.

“I’m, uh, sorry Yoora did that to you. Jimin blurted out, making you look to him and making him clench the wheel.

“It’s not your fault.” You reassured him, “The whole point of the date was to see if this guy actually ‘loved’ me, or even liked me for that matter.” You couldn’t stop yourself from talking, “That post nut clarity must have made him realize he’s a huge liar.” You couldn’t hide the bitterness in your words before you took a breath, “So, how much did you hear?”

“I walked out when I heard her calling you fat.” He stumbled against the words, clearly uncomfortable even repeating Yoora.

You hummed, “Yeah, well, I guess you’re all caught up.” You looked back out the window and Jimin could relax ever so slightly, “I don’t know how I can make her feel threatened. She’s so… loveable.” He frowned at this, “I know I’m pretty, but that doesn’t make me loveable.” He wanted so desperately to say you are loveable. If you weren’t, what had he spent the last year doing? He wanted to slam on the breaks and finally tell you how captivating you are in more ways than one, but the fear of misstepping caged him into his spot as you continued on, “If there’s one thing I know, it’s that no one is obligated to love me.” You seemed to be letting all the exhaustion hit you, not even bothering to stop yourself, “It’s okay. I have the next best thing, sex.” Even you seemed to be unconvinced, “Maybe if I ask everyone for sex I’ll feel as content as Jihoon.” You seemed to be getting more and more upset as you dwelled on the topic.

“Why haven’t you asked me for sex then?” Jimin wanted to slam his head on the wheel and call it a night when he heard his voice speak what should have been an offhand thought.

You giggled a bit at this, relieving Jimin a bit, before shrugging, “I don’t want to use you like I let people use me.” You blew a breath, "You called my bluff. I don't wanna use anyone."

“Why do you let-”

“I, too, get horny and lonely.” You laughed bitterly, “People just lie to me that it’s something more when it’s not. Thank goodness I’m a psych major, or else I might believe them each time.” Judging by the melancholy in your words, Jimin doubted you didn’t not believe some of them, and the notion tore his heart in half. However, he was so pinned down by his fear, he couldn’t conjure the words needed.

“I mean, there are people out there who would like you and not just your body.” He spoke and he swore he was breaking a sweat by now.

You shrugged again, unconvinced again, “I’m glad you never asked me for sex.” You murmured and he glanced at you.

“Why?” Was he not your type?

“Because I think you’re a good person,” You gave him one more smile as he pulled up to your apartment complex, “and I’d like to keep thinking that.” You placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed, “Thank you, for everything tonight.” He merely nodded in acknowledgment, throat strangled with a million emotions as he watched you go into your apartment.

Jimin let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding and drove, as if on autopilot, and let his head plop lightly on the wheel, “Pathetic display, Jimin.” He scolded with a strained voice. He hated this about him. He hated that each time emotions got too real, each time he could not hide behind a charming smile and playful banter, he would choke up. He had been a dance prodigy since birth, since getting scouted by a private school, since Mona adopted him for his career to go even further. And yet, he couldn’t confess to the girl he’s liked for over a year. Instead of staring, he wished he had just asked if you were okay.

He had never imagined you would be nearly as lonely as you felt. Anyone on campus would look at your smile and assume you were doing peachy, but by now, with his observations, he could see when you were faking. Why had he never approached you more to make you smile for real? Why did he remain complicit in fuckers like Jihoon and Yoora’s plight to make you feel less than the perfect girl you are? Who had instilled such an intense reaction to yelling in you? How many times have you thrown up in an alley alone because of the people who knew how to use someone as caring as you? Maybe if he had sat down and eaten that cookie with you, he would be driving the both of you home together.

He wondered if he would ever get the chance to do so at this point.

-------

“...Jimin?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts as he looked at you, all dolled up and a little sweating from performing your final for the class he was your TA for, “You still here?” You giggled as you waved your hand in front of his eyes. You had been the last one to perform, so you figured his brain was fried from watching dozens of dance performances.

His smile grew with yours as he caught your hand in his, interlacing your fingers, “Yeah, I’m here, just got swept away in your performance is all.” He responded cooly and you rolled your eyes mockingly, “I’m serious, it was beautiful.” He brought your hand up, placing a kiss on your palm.

“Well, I had a wonderful training buddy.” You interlocked your fingers behind his neck as he laced his fingers on the small of your back. The PDA made you feel giddy, like a girl in her first relationship showcasing her wonderful boyfriend to the world, “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

He studied your face, your form, your everything for a moment. He basked in the glory of having someone as beautiful as you within his reach at long last. He thought back to each practice session and each kiss that came with it and couldn’t help the glee that spread in his chest. The glee was only further amplified by the very emotion on your face and he couldn’t fathom how he ever lived with himself seeing a fake smile on your face most days.

“You know I love you, right?” He blurted, making both of your eyes widen. Had he seriously just done that? Had he seriously confessed his love to you while the rest of your dance class waited to be dismissed? The air was still before he spoke again, “Could you do me a favor and beat the shit out of me?” He asked, making you giggle. Your joy was contagious and he found himself laughing too, in spite of the millions of emotions at confessing his love so suddenly.

You couldn’t fight the smile on your lips even if you tried. There was something so weightless about Jimin’s love, yet so meaningful. Where Yoongi had been intense and passionate, Jimin was bashful yet honest. It was this floaty feeling that made you lean up to his ears and whisper, “I love you too.” You beamed at him with a genuine smile and his heart soared.

“You do?” He asked excitedly, “You don’t have to, you know?” He reassured you and you could only chuckle.

“Oh well, if I don’t have to…” You joked as you moved to pull away from him, but he pulled you closer.

“I take it back- You have to.” He hurriedly spoke, “If… If you mean it.”

You nodded, a blissful smile on your face as you leaned up to kiss him, “I mean it, and it’s really nice being able to know you mean it too.” You whispered in his ear and in a moment of pure joy, he lifted you and spun you around, not caring about who saw or stared. You squealed at this, enjoying the moment of careless affection. He set you down with a slow kiss and you couldn’t help but melt into his form.

“You ready to go home?” He asked with a gleeful tone. You nodded excitedly and watched with hearts in your eyes as he dismissed the class with his hand in yours. He was always happy to display your relationship, even telling the professor in case he didn’t want Jimin grading your work. He announced it to the class with a blissful look and posted you all over any and all social media accounts he had. He had never been more proud to have someone by his side, and it made you emotional more than once. He held your hand in his as you walked to the car, swinging your arms just to hear your melodic laugh.

You checked your phone as Jimin closed the car door when you got in, “Oh, Hobi’s flight got delayed until tomorrow and Jin has to stay late tonight.” You mumbled, deep in thought for a moment, “And everyone else has something going on, so I guess it’s just me and you for dinner. One last night of freedom before you have to be busy too.” He placed a hand on your thigh as he drove and he'd be lying if he said he didn't have to mentally hype himself up to do it each time.

“Do you want to pick up dinner or just cook at home?” He asked cooly, masking his sheer glee at the domestic implications in his question.

You hummed, “I can cook something if you want,” You noted before a mischievous smile grew on your face, “My love.” You teased the pet name, making Jimin brake abruptly as he was getting out of the parking spot, his arm holding your body back from pushing forward. You gasped before you dissolved into laughter.

“Hey! Are you trying to make me crash?!” His face was beet red as he lectured you about car safety and how words can shake his whole world the whole ride home, and you had never been more enchanted by a flustered lecture in your life.

Eventually, he was finished lecturing you and the car was filled with laughter and light quips. He wondered how he ever lasted this long without you by his side, but he was glad he would no longer have to.

Tip Jar

[thewildwaffle]

Humans are Weird - Helium

It's been a while since I got a new story up. I'd been working on some other projects, then had some pretty unhappy life events happen. I am doing fine, so don't worry. Hopefully, now my muse is back and will stick around a while :)

This story is from a prompt ao3

*** *** ***

When you bring together a wide variety of races from different planets and environments, you tend to have an equally wide variety of needs that need to be met from species to species. Ships were typically staffed by a food and nutrients safety team. Custodial teams were careful about residual chemical and oil cross-contamination between particular races. Sections of hab suites had controlled ventilation systems that could be set to various atmospheric needs. Outside the hab suites, at work stations or in communal areas, some species have to be fitted with atmospheric filters. Over the years, these devices have gotten less uncomfortable, thankfully. They weren’t the best, they were a bit bulky, noisy, and in some cases obstructive to the wearer, but hey, being able to properly breathe on a ship with beings who had different atmospheric needs than you was more important than comfort. When the humans joined the galactic community, the newer filters started becoming noticeably smaller and less obtrusive. Many were concerned that the changes would make them less effective, but leave it to the humans to tinker around and invent the impossible when they really wanted to. The latest models were supposed to be so small and comfortable, you could sleep with them on. Heck for some races, you could barely tell they were wearing an atmospheric filter at all. Not only that, they were up to 40% more effective at filtration and gas delivery for many species. This opened up crew rosters for ships. Species who couldn't reasonably be stationed in the same ship due to the gases they breathe being dangerous to others, or vice versa could now be on the same crew.

That included duibs like Marvi who breathe large amounts of helium. She’d been serving aboard Galactic Coalition ships for more standard solar rotations than many of her fellow crewmates had been alive. It helped that duibs were long-lived, of course, and in her time, she’d seen many new technologies come and go. If you pressed her hard enough, she’d likely say that the atmospheric filters the humans developed were by far her favorite. Being able to safely and comfortably pass through different atmospheric biomes was an important ability when you had a long list of custodial and maintenance duties each rotation. Marvi huffed a deep sigh as she rounded another corner. Lighting beam replacements weren’t heavy, but maneuvering them around corners like this was a bit of a pain. “Need a helping paw Marvi?” Marvi turned to see a dark gray priso steadying the end lighting beam she was carrying. The furry face was relatively expressionless, but a clear look at his flicking whiskers and triangular, alert ears and bright eyes told her that he was holding back laughter. He must have just come up from around the other corner and seen the small duib struggling. “Oh, hello Aurrin. I definitely would appreciate some aid, though I would understand if you are busy right now,” Marvi replied politely. Honestly, the help would be very nice and she hoped the offer was serious. “I’m waiting for Human Karl, I can help until he gets here,” Aurrin rose to his back paws awkwardly and grabbed the ends of the light beams in his dexterous front paws. Priso were normally quadrupedal on flat ground, but the forested terrains of their homeworld meant they were at least somewhat adept at grabbing and climbing. He followed along, holding on to the light beams and kept them away from the walls and corners as the pair walked. “I was actually just installing something by the hab suites over there,” he tilted his head back to gesture behind them, “I’ve got something I wanted to test before I go off duty. After that, I’m looking forward to two whole cycles of rest and whatever I want to do.” The corridor here was darker and Marvi stopped walking. This was where she needed to replace the light beam. “Two whole cycles, huh?” She set down the light beam carefully, Aurrin following suit. She pulled out a tool from her hip pack and started working on opening the control panel. In order to open the panels to install the new light beams, she had to make sure power was redirected for safety. “What are you going to do with your time off? Any fun plans?” “A few plans. They might change depending on how my experiment goes.” Marvi worked quietly, waiting on the priso to expound, but other than chuckling to himself, he didn’t say anything more on the topic. Well, Marvi supposed it was not really her business, so she changed the subject and chatted cordially until the new light beam was installed and she rerouted power back to the panel. The darkened hall was filled with bright, cheerful light and Marvi let out a satisfied sigh. “Well, that’s that. Another task down.” The old light beam would need to be taken back to her shop for a repair and gas exchange, or refill, or whatever it ended up needing to get it up and running again. “Thank you again for your help. I should be able to get these back alright myself, I don’t want to take up too much of your time if you’ve still got your experiment to run.” From around the corner of the corridor, the distinct sound of a hab suite door opening was followed by approaching footsteps. A light on Aurrin’s comm device flashed and the priso’s long tail flicked excitedly back and forth. “No worries, it looks like my experiment is already underway.” Marvi felt the frills all along her body perk in curiosity, but before she could ask anything else, Human Karl rounded the corner. He grinned without showing his teeth, as it would have been a sign of aggression to many species on the ship, and gave a small wave as he approached. “Hey Karl,” Aurrin started. Marvi only partially listened as he started in on a spiel about his upcoming off-duty

plans. Instead, she was more interested in a quiet hissing noise and was trying to pinpoint where it was coming from. It sounded like… well it sounded almost like an atmospheric filter, one beside her own. Hers was in light operation since she was in a sector of the ship that was tuned to a generalized setting, but this noise sounded like a filter at full power output. Did Human Karl hear it? Could he hear it? Surely Aurrin could? She studied them, they didn’t seem to notice. The noise had started when Karl arrived, did that mean…? Her suspicions were confirmed the moment Karl opened his mouth to reply to Aurrin. “I’m actually on my way to…” What. The. Frewan? Human Karl’s voice, which was usually a calming deep tone, was disturbingly high and unnatural. The surprised expression on his face made Marvi’s core freeze. That meant this vocal change wasn’t some weird human thing? What was going on?! “I, woah,” the squeaky voice stuttered, “is this… helium? What is this? What’s going on?” He looked at the comm device strapped to his wrist and pulled up the readout. Sure enough, it was an increase of helium output from his atmospheric filter. The skin on his forehead wrinkled as he looked from the readout to Marvi and Aurrin, his eyes finally locking on the latter who was fiddling with something on his own comm device readout. “You punk! How did you do this? Change it back!” Karl started laughing a bit, Marvi wasn’t sure if it was directed at the ridiculousness of his voice or if it was because the helium was affecting his cognitive functions. She worried it was the latter. Panicking, Marvi approached to see if there was some sort of override. She had to act fast! Humans didn’t breathe helium, he could die! Before she could do anything though, Aurrin spoke up while trying to muffle his laughter. “Okay, okay, hoooo… I’ve deactivated it, you’re good. Keep talking though while your voice turns back to normal, you’re hilarious.” Karl gave him a look that Marvi couldn’t interpret. “What was that? How did you do that?” His voice was already back to normal and it sounded like a mix between annoyed, intrigued and amused. “When you came out of your hab suite, you passed a sensor I set up that overrode your atmospheric filter controls. My latest invention. Imagine this: a ship gets attacked and boarded. Normal defenses prove insufficient and the crew is in grave danger. As the hostiles pass hidden sensors, their atmospheric filters are overridden and they fall asleep, get loopy and confused, or simply pass out before they can get to and harm any crew.” Marvi and Karl blinked in unison while Aurrin’s tail swept side to side proudly. Marvi was the first to find words. “Your… your experiment?” Marvi glanced between Aurrin and Karl worriedly, “Is this what you were experimenting with? You ran it on a crewmate?!” “Well,” Aurrin’s ears pulled back slightly, but his whiskers still kept their amused look, “I say experiment pretty loosely. This was more of a field test. I ran all the actual experiments long ago. I knew exactly what would happen. And I did research on humans and I found out what effects helium has on them and I had to see it for myself. That’s why I was waiting for Karl.” The human in question was still laughing a bit - of course, a human would be able to laugh after nearly being asphyxiated, they’re crazy - before he ran his hand over his head to compose himself. “So this was a prank?” “For science.” “Of course. For science.” Karl’s smile suddenly morphed into a thoughtful frown. “Wait. Is this payback for the soap thing I pulled on you last week?” Aurrin’s face was statuesque and solemn as he stared silently at the human for a moment. “Yes.” “You’re the worst.” “Thank you.” “Want to go do this again in front of Aylin? She and Maruti-kar would think it’s hilarious.” “I had been planning on it. But only if we can get video evidence of it.” “For science?” “Naturally.” Marvi watched, hearts still beating rapidly from her panic, as Aurrin and Karl deactivated and retrieved the sensor to reenact the stunt she had just been a witness

to. Almost reflexively, she started tracing the side of her atmospheric filter. The quiet hum and hiss were calming. Helium to her was life. She’d thought it was toxic to others. And yet Aurrin thought it fine to use it on a human, and Karl was not only unworried about it but found it funny. Was it not dangerous?! And his voice? Why did it do that? She pulled up a search screen on her comm device and searched in the human database. Helium. Breathing. Voices. Apparently, helium took up space in their lungs that normally would be filled by oxygen, so yes, it was dangerous because they could asphyxiate. It also amplified higher-pitched tones of their vocal tract while simultaneously dampening lower tones because of the gas’s low density. That explained the voice change. And for some reason, the funny noise was enough of a reason to play around with deadly materials. Well, if anything, she supposed humans did keep to their MO pretty well. She picked the spent light beams back up and headed back to her shop, careful to not hit the ends on any walls or corners.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Bound Blood (Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader, Soulmate AU) Pt. 1

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for blood, language, brief nudity. Later chapters will be M Warnings: Nah fam Summary: Local vampire finds out she can't kill soft human (because they're soulmates, baby), human becomes insufferable bastard, oops they fuck later. Soulmate AU where if one person gets injured, their soulmate feels the same amount of pain and receives a scar in the relevant area.

1: Sharing Is (Not) Caring

It’s not that you had expected to survive this- being locked in the dungeon of Castle Dimitrescu, waiting for the day you’re picked to be someone’s meal. Oh no, you had given up on surviving long ago, it was just that… well, you had hoped that someone with a softer touch would do you in. But here you were, too exhausted to cry, hanging naked in front of none other than Cassandra Dimitrescu. Her eyes were trailing you up and down, examining every inch of your skin, every flaw, every unique trait. It was like she was making a mental map of which parts of you would taste best. Goddamn, you wanted to spit in her face, or scream, or say something, anything that might make her feel even an ounce of what you had felt for weeks.

But you know that she’s already planning to kill you, and to make it painful. Why give her any more reason? Why dare her to find a worse way to end your life? There was no good answer, so you stayed still, just watched her move. Maybe if you looked bored enough she’d make it quick, just stab a knife in you and drink you up like a capri sun. Or, maybe, if you kept a straight face, she would admire your courage. Oh, how you longed for people to think of you kindly now, in your last moments, when dying clean and pretty was no longer an option.

Pulling a blade from some hidden sheathe, Cassandra approaches you with a wicked grin. There’s still blood on her lips from her last victim. Had they not sated her? Or had she been like this for some time? When she inevitably drank from you, how long would your blood remain on her lips? You weren’t sure that you wanted to know. In your mind, you picture her cleaning up as soon as she was done with you. It does not make you feel any better. Neither does the way she traces a finger across your chest, left to right, practicing for the incision to follow. She pauses to lick her lips, making direct eye contact as she does.

What happens next passes by so quickly that you don’t process any of it until the whole ordeal is over. The blade’s tip digs into your chest, just below your collarbone, before dragging along half the width of your torso. It hurts like hell, but you manage to keep your misery to yourself. But your pain is soon replaced with confusion; Cassandra screams, loud enough to echo throughout the basement, doubling over herself. In an instant her knife has clattered to the floor, forgotten. Instinct takes over your brain, the default programing kicking in, and you say something that fills you with instant regret.

“Are you okay?” Your voice is a bit quiet, and raw, worn out from lack of hydration. But it is enough, evidently, for Cassandra to hear. She’s rising back up and glaring at you, one hand clutching her chest. Something in her expression tells you that she thinks you’re mocking her. While that wasn’t technically the case, there was a part of you that found joy in this, watching your captor get a taste of their own medicine. The question left in your mind was why she was in pain. “I’ll take that as a no,” you said, again left with regret at your choices.

Now her hand is swiping at your face, nails cutting you open. Once more she hisses in pain, now clutching her head, shaking a little as she does. When she meets your gaze, you see that she’s more confused than anything. More than that, you see the marks on her face, knowing instantly that they match your own. Oh hell no, you thought, grimacing.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Cassandra growled through clenched teeth. Bouncing back and forth on her heels, she seems tense, unsure of how to process what’s happening. You feel the same way, desperately wanting to pretend that this doesn’t mean you’re her soulmate. Maybe the universe had just messed up, crossing some wires, or decided to pull a prank on the two of you. Either way it was better than the alternative. Eager to think about something else, you start considering your options. The first that comes to mind is ridiculous. Stupid, really. But would it amuse you? Absolutely.

“Not gonna lie, I feel better about the idea of you killing me now. Feel free to make it painful, darlin’, I won’t mind,” you snarked, lips curling up into a smirk. Oh boy was it satisfying to watch Cassandra’s response. One of her hands raises to smack you, only for her to freeze before releasing a torrent of swears. Hurting you meant hurting herself. “What’s the matter? Can’t handle a little aching? Haven’t you ever imagined what it’s like to be on the other side of things? Under the blade yourself, blood soaking your skin, eyes too dry for even a single tear? Poor thing,” you purred, tone as teasing as it could get. Apparently it’s aggravating enough for Cassandra to fight through the pain, as she slams her fist into your stomach, leaving both of you gasping for breath. “This is fun-” you pause to cough out a few drops of blood- “really, really fun. Hey, if you kill me, how bad do you think you’ll feel?”

Before Cassandra can react, either to speak or hurt you worse, the sound of approaching footsteps draws her attention. From where you hang you can’t see much, too many cells and hanging bodies blocking your vision. But your “soulmate” seemed to know who was coming. Her face scrunches up a little, and she adjusts her robes, trying to cover the mark on her chest. Had you not still been coughing, you would have sarcastically asked her how she intended to hide her face.

“What the hell is going on, Cassandra?” An unfamiliar voice asked. The footsteps grew louder, and faster, until the new figure stood in the same cell as you. Not even bothering to spare you a glance, she approaches Cassandra, reaching to examine her face. “Did a prisoner manage to get you? I’ve told you a thousand times-”

“Don’t fucking touch me, sis,” Cassandra snapped, pushing away her sister’s hand. Both of them are visibly tense, and for a moment they stand still, staring each other down. Then the sister (who you assume to be Bela, from things you’ve overheard recently) shifts her focus to you. Something tells you that she has no intentions of being gentle.

“Did you do this, you rotten little thing?” Bela questioned, glaring at you hard enough to send a shiver down your spine. But that doesn’t stop you from trying to have some more fun.

“Oh, of course I did! I rattled my chains real good, scared the shit out of her, made her fall on her own knife a few times. You know, like that one musical?” You must look insane as you speak, grin wide but face dripping with blood. If it unnerves Bela, she hides it well, though you doubt it does. As soon as you’re done poking fun she’s pulling out her sickle. Still grinning, you make eye contact with Cassandra, who realizes what’s happening a second too late. Then the two of you cry out in unison, as the blade carves into your shoulder. Instantly Bela pulls back, stunned, turning to her sister with genuine concern. “I might have lied. Rest assured though, it was for comedic purposes.”

The next thing you know the two sisters are shuffling away from you, Cassandra begrudgingly being dragged along by Bela. Though the younger of the two had been adamant about not receiving help, she now had little choice in the matter, skin searing from your blood bond. Even you are starting to breathe harder than you’d like.

“Was it something I said?” You barked, barely able to manage a fit of giggles between your coughing. Bela shoots you a glare over her shoulder, but quickly returns her attention to her sister. They talk, quickly, soft enough that you can only make out a few words here and there. It’s hard to make meaning from it, especially considering their vastly different tones. Cassandra is pure anger, gestures fast and wide, while Bela is oddly solemn, even regretful. When you finally catch a couple full sentences, things start to make a little more sense, though you wish they didn’t.

“We can kill them painlessly, in their sleep. That way you won’t have to suffer,” Bela whispered. She’s doing her best to comfort her sister, despite the tension in the room, gently patting her on the back. Briefly, you make eye contact with her. In that moment she looks equal parts executor and unwilling jury. But she looks away quickly, even shifting her angle to prevent it from happening again.

“No, fuck that, fuck this, I’m… I’m not killing them. Nobody is,” Cassandra growled, daring to emphasize her point by pushing Bela away. Now it’s her turn to look at you, brows furrowed, eyes betraying something more than just anger. Somehow it’s a million times worse than when she first came in. You strain yourself trying to look away, cursing the chains keeping you in place, resorting to closing your eyes and pretending none of this was real. “I don’t care what you think, Bela. They’re already my ‘meal’, might as well get what enjoyment out of this that I can.”

Again, footsteps echo through the basement. Tension locks your muscles in place, and your eyes are still clamped shut, to the point that you don’t realize your chains are being undone until you’ve hit the ground. Cursing under your breath, you finally open your eyes again. There’s blood on the floor, only some of it yours, and you’re suddenly aching for a bath. More than that, though, you’re praying for something to cover yourself with. Certainly Cassandra didn’t need to see everything, now that you weren’t a piece of meat for her to enjoy? As if reading your mind, the middle Dimitrescu daughter flings open a nearby cabinet, messily searching for something. Eventually she gives a hum of approval, then tosses a blanket in your direction.

“Put it on, dipshit, then follow me,” she snapped, already walking away. For a moment you’re tempted to stay there, sitting still, waiting to see how long it would take for her to notice. But one look from Bela sends the thought back to whatever crevice of your mind it crawled out of. So you’re moving, hastily, awkwardly wrapped in a somewhat itchy blanket. Other prisoners eye you as you pass, some shouting curses or even spitting at you. At first Cassandra takes no notice, or simply doesn’t care, but eventually the noise seems to irritate her. Turning back, she takes her sickle in hand and slams the handle into the bars of a cell. It’s loud, making you flinch, but gets everyone’s attention. “Next one to make a peep gets the blood eagle!”

“Is that, like, a sex thing?” The words leave your mouth before you can stop yourself. Laughter rings out around you from the few prisoners capable of it. Cassandra is seething again, looking about ready to kill you. Then she’s shifting into swarm mode, spreading out wide, insects barreling through half the occupied cells. A few cries escape the prisoners, as the flies take bites out of them, cutting a perfect balance between pain and (a lack of) lethality. They’d be suffering for days to come, every movement making their wounds ache. “Not a sex thing, got it,” you muttered to yourself, just as Cassandra reforms in front of you. This time she grabs the blanket you’re wrapped in, using it to tug you forward, sending you towards the exit.

“Shut up for five minutes and I might let you put on actual clothes,” she growled, keeping one hand on your back to guide you. The offer is the closest thing to kindness you’ve seen from her, and you have half a mind to do what she says. Would you actually manage to keep quiet for that long? Well, you were certainly looking forward to finding out...

[rinstars]

pool party

pairing: suna x reader

genre: smut

word count: 2k+

tags: fingering, penetration, public sex, dacryphilia, size kink, a tiny bit of praise, degradation/humiliation, mention of toys, strangers/neighbors sex, overstimulation, multiple use of different names, kind of dubcon

description: when you decided to go for a swim in the middle of the night on the private pool of your apartment complex to relax and things took a different turn.

after getting through a whole week filled with nothing but paperworks, meetings, and deadlines – you need a good swim. that's what you tell yourself as you shuffle around your room to search for your phone and towel, setting it on the bed as you pick out a good bathing suit to wear for your little relaxing swim on the pool of your building.

it's close to midnight. surely, you would be the only one in the space, giving you the alone time you've been praying for the whole week. speeding along the hallways and into the elevator with your robe wrapped around your body, you feel excitement bubble through your stomach at the thought of finally getting rest.

you wait patiently, tapping your foot on the marble until the elevator opened, presenting you with a sight you did not expect to see. standing shirtless in the pool, with half of his body submerged into the water, is your neighbor suna rintaro.

the gasp that escaped your lips was unavoidable as you looked at the hard muscle of his abdomen littered with water droplets, his wet long hair pushed back from his face with a bored, nonchalant look. wetness started pooling on the bikini you're wearing, making you curse yourself in the head. truthfully, you haven't been able to release your frustrations for a whole week, so one could only guess how much you're aching to be touched.

refusing to look like a fool in front of suna, you decided against hopping back in the elevator and dismissing the idea of a swim. your nimble fingers reach the knot of your robe, undoing it before shrugging it off your shoulders and onto the floor. you didn't miss the way he watches you shamelessly, following your every move with a sharp gaze.

when you eventually dipped in the pool, you stayed as far from him as possible, scared if you were within close proximity, you would do something regrettable.

barely any light illuminates the pool, your bodies below the water almost invisible to the eye. an idea pops into your head, admittedly a stupid idea, but you couldn't ignore the throb between your legs. turning your back against suna, you let your fingers run from your stomach to the band of your bikini, slipping your fingers in and parting your folds open. you let out an inaudible gasp at the cold water enveloping your twitching bud.

you didn't move for a while, just letting yourself feel the cold water wash away the heat of your warm cunt. lost in the mild feeling of euphoria, you didn't hear the movement of someone getting close to you, the ripples he created in the water unnoticed. it wasn't until you felt someone grip your wrist from behind did you jump at the realization that suna must have noticed what you were trying to do.

wordlessly, he pulled your fingers away from inside your panties, tugging on the wrist he caught earlier. you let him, face flushed from combined embarrassment and arousal. his hard chest is pressed on your back, making you almost want to throw your head back and lean to him. he shifted a little, causing a hard muscle to bump in the middle of your thighs, making you to let out a disgruntled groan.

in your head, you thought fuck it and started to slowly push your behind to him, so your ass is resting on his hardening cock. however, cold and wrinkled fingers suddenly pressed on your clit, making you scream out. he slapped a hand on your mouth, pulling you closer to him as his fingers circle your clit with such ferocity.

"even the water can't wash away how fucking wet you are." he growls in your ear, nibbling on the lobe as he continues his torture on your twitching clit. you spread your legs father, allowing him to slip his fingers further in you. the pads of his calloused fingers reached your slit, pushing two fingers in it with warning.

"s-suna." you throw your head back, clenching your walls around him as he assaults your pussy with the repeated, harsh pumps of his digits. his tongue is latched on your neck, sucking bruises on the skin with his teeth.

"if you wanted me that bad, you should've just said so from the beginning, baby." he whispered with a teasing smile before inserting a third finger in you and stretching you out with his scissoring. you feel your legs tremble, losing the strength to stay still and standing, but the way he's ramming his fingers upwards keep you upright.

"you didn't know the walls separating us our thin?" he spoke with a teasing tone but you weren't able to catch on, until he continued. "you think i don't hear you moaning my name out as you pump toys in and out of your cunt, you fucking slut?"

you gasp, both at shock from the statement and the way he's fingering you knuckles deep now, with the addition of his thumb rubbing digits on your sensitive clit. you didn't know what to say at the statement. there's no point in denying something that's real.

instead, you rock on his finger, almost as if you're riding his fingers to orgasm. his other hand gripped your jaw, turning your face to him. you were going to close the distance for a kiss when he denied you and instead pushed your mouth open before spitting on it.

"swallow it, bunny." he instructs, watching you with animalistic eyes. arousal spreads through you even more as you swallow, eyes rolling to the back of your head in pleasure. he turns you on so much. you've been imagining his fingers in you since the moment he moved next door, the feeling of his beautiful athlete fingers splitting you apart.

you were about to release a large moan when he shushed you again, turning the both of you around. shock replaced the confusion written on your face as you heard approaching voices, eyes widening at the possibility of being caught.

"oh, you like that?" he laughed in your ear as his fingers started moving even faster than before (if that was even possible). "clenching at the thought of being caught, huh? what a dumb little slut you are."

it was all just too much – his dirty talk and long fingers fuelling your desire. your hips bucked for the last time as you cum around his fingers, coating his hand with your slick.

he retracted his hands away from your pussy but remained his hold around your body, facing the two other boys now swimming in the very same pool you're both in. you felt him nod in greeting as the others smiled back at both of you, noticing the way one of them stares at your breast a little longer than necessary.

they both swim a little closer to you and suna, starting a small talk you couldn't care to join in. not when all of your strength has been reduced to nothing just a few minutes ago.

you were nodding along to the conversation when you felt your panties being pushed aside, making you gasp when you realize that it is, in fact, suna's throbbing cock.

the guys snapped their attention to you when they heard you make the noise, asking you if you're fine. with a hard nod and a tight smile, you assure them it's nothing. with much effort, you feel the tip of his cock slip inside your tightening cunt, making you bite your lip to prevent a sound from escaping. in your head, you curse at the boys in front of you for making it way too difficult to act, but then you knew that this is exactly what suna wanted.

your harsh glare on the duo never faltered, not once, until one of them noticed and hurriedly tried to pull the other way, whispering something about how they're taking up too much of your time. a flood of relief washes over you, and the moment they're a good distance away, suna once again turns your back to where the audience are.

"what a good girl." his fingers brush the damp hair falling on your face. he angled his hips better before slowly continuing to ease in your little cunny.

you have always imagined suna was a big guy, from the way he's built and how ridiculously tall he looks. but what you didn't expect is that he was this huge. you have never failed to accommodate something when you're being penetrated, but half way in with suna and you're already overstimulated. by the time he's all the way in, you gasp as your fingers fly to your lower abdomen, feeling his tip all the way there.

"fuck, you're so – ahh, s-so big." you grip his forearms as he began slowly pushing his length balls deep. the coil in your stomach tightening by the minute as he continuously tortures you with the lazy buckles of his hips.

"please move faster, suna, p-please please." you beg him, tears lining the edge of your eyes and a broken sob makes its way out of your throat.

suna felt his cock twitching and hardening at the sight of your face, tears moistening your eyes with a pout etched on your lips. "when you imagine me fucking you do i go slow like this or do i split you apart with my cock, hmm?"

humiliation fills you at the thought of him hearing you get off to his name every night but you certainly can't stop now, not with his cock wrapped in your tightness at a public pool where people are also swimming. with a choke, "y-you split me apart your cock."

he didn't even need to reply after that as he pulls his cock all the way back before slamming all of him into you again. his tip repeatedly kissing the opening of your cervix, making you let out a rather loud moan. he pinched your clit at that, the other hand wrapped around your throat.

"do you want a show? make a sound again, baby, and i'll show them what kind of slut you are." he threatens, kissing your cheeks and temples as tears keep falling – from the pain of having to keep your voice down to escape humiliation.

the water below you is moving so rapidly that it's creating ripples and bubbles to the surface, paired with the squelching sounds from where your bodies meet each other. he fucks your cunt deep and hard, making you feel every protruding vein along with every inch of his skin.

"does this compare? to the toys you stuff your cunt with?" he taunts you, groaning as he feels you clamp down on him even tighter. when you refuse to open your mouth in fear of making a sound, suna pulls your bra down from your breast, exposing your nipples to the harsh cold air. you immediately trembled at the feeling, head falling down as your face contorts in bliss. you were sure if suna wasn't holding you by the neck, you would have submerged into the water already.

with a strained sound, you managed to say. "nothing c-compares. your cock is so fat, so g-good — a-ahh suna.. 'm so stuffed."

when his fingers swirl your nipples, pinching both sides as he pumps himself into you along with his whispered degradation in your ear, it was all just too much. you feel your vision turning white as orgasm bubbles through your body.

suna curses a string of fuck as he feels you squeeze the seed out of him, almost as if you're telling him to cum with you but refusing to let him go at the same time. "want to be my little cumdump, bunny? want me painting your insides white?"

you nod at him with eagerness, chin touching the knuckles of the hand on your throat as you cream around him one last time, releasing your sticky juice into his cock. soon after, he fills you up too. you feel the sticky liquid gushing and dancing inside you, trailing down your thighs as it overflows.

"no no no no, clench, my angel. don't let a single drop out." he hums in your ear before pulling away from you and placing your panties back in place after your bra.

you nod, clenching your walls before eventually collapsing in his arms from exhaustion. he wraps his arms around you and kisses the top of your head, "are we taking this to your house or mine?"

[jaskiersvalley]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing and your stories, I'm so glad I found your blog, now I always have something new to read!! ❤️❤️❤️

I remember watching you blitz through the blog, leaving likes on a lot of the stories. It really made my day! Now, who knows how many months late, I bring you some silly Witchers and their mutagens.

Kaer Morhen’s Open Door Policy

When Jaskier was invited to Kaer Morhen, he’d thought the open door policy that Geralt mentioned meant that anyone was welcome to stay for the winter. It warmed his heart that the Wolves were so welcoming and generous with their winter lodgings. What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was that said open door policy was a literal thing. He arrived in Kaer Morhen with Geralt, they were stomping snow off their boots when someone rounded the corner at some speed. Slowing down, the man made a beeline for them.

“Lambert,” Geralt greeted before he was veritably bowled over in a hug. If Jaskier squinted, he could have sworn Geralt was given a long sniff and maybe even a lick, perhaps over the lips. But surely he must have seen wrong because Jaskier himself wasn’t given such a greeting.

Two more figures appeared and introductions were made to Eskel and Vesemir. It was quite nice really, even if a lonely winter with just the five of them. However, if gave Jaskier a chance to get used to the ways of the keep. Mostly, it was learning to leave doors open a crack and how to keep the hinges well oiled at all times. If he didn’t, it was guaranteed someone would turn up.

At first Jaskier had thought it was because he wasn’t trusted, not an accepted member of the pack. But that thought was quickly thrown out the window, especially when he was dragged into the cuddle piles in front of fires. Those were rather nice, if a little too warm and sweaty for his liking. Yet, every single time he forgot about keeping a door open, whenever it snicked shut behind him or clicked open as he stepped through, within ten seconds one of the other residents appeared. Usually it was Lambert, rounding the corner at quite a pace even as he tried to make it look like he hadn’t dropped everything and run. It was rather offensive in a way, at least that was what Jaskier thought until he was sat quietly in the library, Lambert browsing for something when his head snapped up all of a sudden and he was off at full pelt. That wasn’t the first time Jaskier saw him running. On more than one occasion Lambert almost bowled him over in corridors as he rushed towards whatever he had heard.

“Doors,” Geralt had explained quietly one night. “If we hear a door open or close, there’s this overwhelming urge to go see who it is, what had happened.”

Now that Jaskier knew, he paid more attention. Any door had Lambert running. Much more sedately, Eskel would usually follow, lumbering towards the source of the noise and trying desperately to look like he wasn’t doing exactly like Lambert. However, he had a weakness, as Jaskier discovered. The cupboard doors in the kitchen. If Jaskier, or anyone else for that matter, happened to go and look in one, Eskel was bound to bumble into the kitchen within a short space of time, looking bashfully hopeful. It was cute, Jaskier even started indulging and giving Eskel snacks because the way he softened and smiled at the offering was far too endearing.

“You’re only encouraging him,” Vesemir grumbled as he watched Jaskier hand Eskel half a slice of honey coated bread. Rather than argue, Jaskier gave Vesemir the other half, not commenting on how the old Wolf appeared for seemingly no reason in the kitchen. The treat certainly silenced him.

For a first winter, it was a good one. Jaskier was satisfied when he left that he was getting the hang of the odd open doors policy. It was the next winter that proved to test his patience. As well as the Wolves, there was a Cat there too. Haughty and aloof, Aiden spent most of his time perched up high somewhere. He slowly warmed up to Jaskier though, cautious at first. However, Aiden seemed to be rather fond of the open door policy, only ever opening or closing a door when he wanted attention. And that was rather frequently. More than once a day Lambert would go running because Aiden slammed a door somewhere, wanting to play.

It was all very well until Jaskier had to use the privy. That was one door that the Wolves learned not to run to. Even though Lambert still twitched, head swivelling it its direction before grumbling and returning to what he was doing. Jaskier was trying to just have a peaceful moment to relieve himself, a considerate two stalls down from an occupied booth when he heard someone else come in.

“Lamb?” Aiden’s voice drifted through the air, a little plaintive and lost.

“What?” Not all that unusual for Lambert to sound irritated.

“What are you doing?”

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up at the question. What could Lambert be doing in the privy other than the obvious one of four things?

“I’m taking a shit.” Well, that answered which of the four it was but Jaskier could heard the sounds of a body leaning heavily against the door.

“Oh.” Aiden sounded almost disappointed. “I thought I heard some rustling like a snack being opened.”

“I promise I’m not fucking eating while taking a shit. Who eats in here anyway?” Grumbling, Lambert scoffed. “Don’t tell me, I bet it’s Geralt.”

Jaskier couldn’t hold his tongue anymore. “Geralt most certainly does not eat in the privy.”

The sound of a body moving and Jaskier knew Aiden was stood outside the door to his cubicle. “Jaskier. You’re in there.”

“No I’m not.”

For a moment there was confused silence before Lambert growled. “I swear Aiden, if you don’t leave us alone-” his threat was lost as Aiden moved back to Lambert’s door and there was an odd scratching sound. “No. Aiden. Don’t you dare. You can’t sit on my lap here! Not again. We almost broke it last time. Get out. Get out!”

The sound of a door being kicked shut and a huff from Aiden gave Jaskier a good idea of what had jut happened and he was scared to go out. However, not a minute later another voice joined the fray.

“What happened?” Eskel asked.

Jaskier buried his face in his hands in despair. So much for a peaceful piss.

The whole door thing was becoming quite ridiculous. Especially with Aiden slamming them to get Lambert’s attention. And then being offended whenever he encountered a closed door. Those were all gently knocked on and a head poked through if there was no answer. It meant nothing was private and Vesemir had to use a broom to get Aiden off the top of his wardrobe one evening when the Cat had gone missing all afternoon. He seemed to have no respect or care for anything, not when it came to prime napping spots.

It got to the stage that the common areas had their doors removed and Vesemir started hanging heavy furs in their place. Which did actually make the rooms warmer and there was no more needless running around. Though Eskel still bumbled into the kitchen in the hopes of a shared snack. Jaskier had rapidly cottoned on to the fact Vesemir fought such an urge in a novel and simple way. He was almost always either in the kitchen or within sight of it. So he could see if there was an opportunity for a snack without having to move. The old Wolf was clever, Jaskier had to give him that.

Some days, Jaskier did crave a bit of silence and solitude. Those were rare and far between days but they did happen. When they came, he took to wandering through the crumbling corridors of Kaer Morhen, trying to imagine what it had been like in its glory days. Quite amazing, he should think. So lost was he in his musings, Jaskier didn’t notice until too late that the floor wasn’t solid below his feet. It gave way and he fell with a yelp, landing awkwardly on his ankle. The pain was quite blinding, rendering him into a whimpering mess, throat tight and unable to call for help. Even when he managed to gather himself up, it didn’t seem to help. His voice just didn’t carry and the Wolves probably couldn’t hear him. It was cold, dark and Jaskier was in pain which made it difficult to think. There was a door not far from him and, in a moment of sheer desperation, he pulled himself towards it on shaking arms. Near enough, he reached for it and, with all his might, slammed it shut. It bounced open from the force and echoed through the room. Mustering up a little more energy, Jaskier shoved it again and the crack of door hitting frame made him wince. That would have to do. Jaskier managed to lie down, pillowing his head on his arms, shivering.

His hopes were answered when he heard the steady stomp of running feet skidding to a halt.

“The fuck?” There was the sound of a deep inhale as the area was scented. “Where you got to bard?”

“Down here,” Jaskier called back and squinted towards the hole he had fallen through. “My ankle.”

“Why would you do that? Wait. Never mind.” Lambert turned away and, a hand cupped against his cheek and lips he let out what could only be called a howl before his attention was back on Jaskier. “What did we tell you about wandering off?”

More feet, more people and Jaskier teared up in relief. He watched as Aiden hopped down the hole and took stock of the damage. A soft cry of pain left Jaskier as he was picked up and his ankle was jostled. In a few, seemingly easy, jumps, Aiden was passing Jaskier over to Geralt who cradled him against his chest. There was a still body-warm jacket draped over Jaskier and he burrowed into it, finding Eskel’s scent mixing with Geralt a comfort.

In the infirmary he was patched up, fussed over and, in the end, bundled into a pile in front of a fire where the others snuggled protectively up against him. By the next morning all the doors were back in place and Vesemir ground his teeth when Aiden slammed the kitchen one for Lambert’s attention.

[chipper-smol]

Hollow Knight Telephone Round Two: Pale Jester Chain 2

Prompt: PJ finds his way into Lemm’s shop and begins ruminating about all the different relics with surprising accuracy and knowledge (much to Lemm’s annoyance and confusion)

By @werewolforeos

Lemm was alone, as usual. He dusted off the king’s idols so the illustrious stone regained its shine. He froze as the door to his ‘shop’ creaked, and the bell jingled- please don’t be another caffeine-wanting bug, he thought, turning around to greet the customer.

The masked bug was taller than he was, though not by much- most of its height came from its horns, eight tall spikes resembling a crown. Yet despite this regal feature, it dressed in a fool’s clothes- Lemm could almost imagine the bells attached to the cape’s ends, which luckily were absent. And all its clothes shone with a deep crimson.

“How can I help you?” Lemm muttered, eyeing the stranger’s staff. “Oh, mind that shelf, would you?”

“Oh! A friendly face in these caverns! My, my! What an unexpected surprise!” The bug replied with a too-jolly attitude. Lemm decided he did not like this bug. “Why, I was merely exploring this city- it’s quite hectic outside, no?”

“Yes, I suppose so,” Lemm replied. “My shop here is safe, at least. It’s quite calm up here. Have you seen those husks?”

“Yes, yes. Quite the sad fate they have been left with- blinded by those unsightly orange lumps, yet stuck in their daily rituals all the same.” The stranger brought up his hands to his face, in a mocking display of shock. “Oh, heavens! We have yet to introduce ourselves to each other!”

Lemm rolled his eyes. “Name’s Lemm. Don’t have much else to say on that matter, but what’s yours, stranger?”

“Ah- they call me Jester, back up there. You have a nice name, Lemm!” A shiver went up Lemm’s spine as Jester spoke his name- he ignored it, it’s probably just the breeze. “So, Lemm! What do you do up here? It’s quite the nice shop~!” said the Jester, picking up a wanderer’s journal.

“Ah- hands off, please. The knowledge stored on these antiques is priceless.” Lemm tapped Jester on the hands. “I buy these relics of this old kingdom, for the sake of history and preservation. I’ve got many journals to decipher- so if you don’t mind, unless you have any relics for me…?”

“Ah, no, I do not have anything you might be interested in. Though,” the Jester mused, “Perhaps I might be able to assist in deciphering the script? It seems familiar to me.”

Lemm scoffed. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. Tell you what, if you can decipher a full journal, I might part with it once I’ve copied it down somewhere.” “That sounds like a challenge to me~! Challenge accepted, shopkeep.”

Lemm gave the Jester a journal he’d deciphered already, to test how well he knew the old script of Hallownest. Putting his finger to the script, the Jester seemed lost in thought, as though looking at an old memory. “This is a passage about those blue cocoons, is it not? They call it Lifeblood.” Lemm blinked.

“That is… correct. But, could you translate the whole passage? I’m curious as to what your skills are.”

“The swirling blue liquid relieves pain, but if too much is taken at once, the Lifeblood seems to take over. We must carefully ration the amount given to the hospitals. Signed… Lurien, the Watcher.”

...That was, way too fast. “Hmm. I’m not convinced. Another.” Lemm trades the journal in the Jester’s hands for another.

“The circus was in town today,” the Jester reads aloud, “and I got to see Marissa’s show! Her voice is so soothing- it reminds me of my dreams.” Lemm was silent. This is ridiculous.

“Hm? Did I make a mistake?”

“Oh, no. I was lost in thought about- these signs here,” Lemm lies. “I hadn’t yet translated this passage, and had not seen this combination written as one word yet.”

“Oh! You’re looking at ‘plague’ there, shopkeep.” Cogs whirred as Lemm processed this information- these journals talk about many things, how did this Jester decipher these so quickly? And does he know things Lemm does not?

“These icons next to each other- ‘sick’ and ‘many’. Many sick make a plague, no?”

“Yes, yes. That does make sense. And here…”

“That’s a shopping list,” the Jester waved it away. “Honeydew, boofly meat, it seems as though this one was quite rich. Though it’s not that important,” he claims, “as those letters from the Watcher you’ve got there seem much more interesting to me.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, everything he’s said has been correct. Even the ones I hadn’t yet gotten to. Just who is this bug, exactly?

The Jester strided over to Lemm’s undeciphered journals, focusing on a specific grouping. “I hereby request the addition of a chamber for Lexi, my butler, inside my Spire. He wishes to stay as he works, and…” Jester pauses as he grabs the next passage. “I believe it would be a good idea to have him with me as I prepare for slumber. Hm, a little fruity, aren’t we, Watcher?”

Lemm just stood there, dumbfounded. “Er. I. Okay.” This is a lot more information than I expected to get in five minutes. Ignoring him, the Jester continued to rummage through the relics, stumbling across a stray king’s idol.

“Hey! Those were ordered to date and time!”

“And now they are not. Is there any issue there? If it is, you can always order them again.”

Lemm definitely did not like this bug. “Excuse me? You waltz into my shop, damage my collection, and strut about like you own the place with your knowledge of the signs used in Hallownest’s prime. Who do you think you are?” “That is irrelevant. I do wonder… where did you find this statuette?”

“A wanderer comes by every so often with many relics, and cleans out my geo stash. I mean- that’s irrelevant. Why do you care?”

Holding the idol at an arm’s length, the Jester tilted his head, studying the way it was sculpted. “This one was found in the resting grounds. I can smell the lavender,” he muses. “I’m surprised they had one of these there- the moths didn’t take kindly to that King. I suppose that’s understandable, given what he did to them.”

“Moths?”

“Yes, yes. Quite a long time ago, they lived in the lands Hallownest was built upon. Did you never get an education?”

Lemm blinks. “Well, I had school, but-”

“Shopkeep, this is something all bugs used to know. Did they scrap it out of the history books? ...Of course he would, that King would do anything for validation. I’m sure the guilt is eating him up from the inside.”

“Jester. The king is dead. Has been for a while. Have you not seen the state of decay this kingdom is in?”

“Ah, no. That Wyrm is still alive somewhere- I’m sure of it.” The Jester moved back to the door, holding his staff in one hand, and journals in the other three. “I do wonder,” he muttered under his breath,”why are these so familiar? Ah, Lemm, was it? Would you mind if I took these outside?”

Before Lemm could express indignance, the door opened once more- standing in it a drenched wanderer, who often stopped by to supply Lemm with his many relics. The pale white mask they donned looked up at the crimson Jester, an unreadable expression behind it. The wanderer gripped the handle of their nail- sharpened, coiled, pure. They recognized the Jester, and they did not particularly like him, Lemm thought. At least Lemm wasn’t alone in disliking his clown schtick. That being said, the Jester still held some relics- if a fight broke out, they could get damaged. Lemm quietly pried open the hands of the Jester.

“Ohoho! We meet again, little one! Do tell me about your excursions down here, won’t you?” The Jester was met with silent scorn. The shop was rife with tension, though the Jester seemed oblivious to it.

“Er, pardon me, but mayhaps you two should take this… outside.”

The wanderer stared at the Jester for another moment, before breaking their gaze away, and briskly walking towards Lemm. They rummaged in their pockets, producing another pair of journals, a Hallownest seal, and an arcane egg. The Jester giggled, the wanderer quickly turning their head towards him, and then sprinting back into the endless rain of the City of Tears before Lemm could give the wanderer the geo they were due.

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By @couch-cat

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By @arandoskeleartist

(audio file working on being uploaded)

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By @uncurdled-bean-curd

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By @the-trans-anon

Lemm was going to have a stroke.

He’d been having a perfectly fine day going through his relics without any annoyances running around, when a strange bug he’d never seen before entered his shop. The bug didn’t seem to have any relics to share, saying he was just exploring, and had been about to leave when he noticed one of Lemm’s king idols.

“What’s that?” The bug asked, reaching for the idol.

Lemm quickly yanked it out of his reach, not thrilled with the idea of someone manhandling his relics. “It’s an idol of the Pale King. The King himself was rarely seen so the bugs of Hallownest worshiped these in his stead.”

“Lies!” Before he could blink, the bug had grabbed the idol and jumped back towards the door. He held the idol up above their head, admiring it.

“Clearly it’s a tiny statue of me! Can you not see the resemblance?” He asked, looking towards Lemm and pressing the idol against his mask, eyes alight with mirth.

Lemm was about to snap at the bug to give him back the idol for gods sake it’s a historical artifact not a toy- when he too started to notice the similarities between the idol and the strange bug. Both had similar horns rising up as a crown, though the bug’s horns were much more curved than the King’s, and their masks looked nearly identical save for the black lines running down the bug’s face. The main difference was their clothing, with most of the King’s imagery in white and the bug’s clothes in a bright, fiery red. The more he looked, the more clear their uncanny resemblance became.

“...Are you related to the Pale King?” Lemm asked, feeling a headache start to form.

The bug looked confused, then put down the idol. “ Ah no, I’m afraid I simply jest my friend. Though we have similar names, I have never heard of your “Pale King” before. Though I have to say,” He looked back at the idol “your king was quite the looker.”

“Wait, what do you mean you have similar names? What’s your name?!”  

The bug looked about ready to answer, before he froze and looked up at the ceiling. “Ah, my apologies my friend. It appears the Master is in need of me.”

“The Master??!”

“May we meet again.” The strange bug bowed, and raced out of the shop.

“Wait! You can’t just say something like that and leave who does that!? Come back here!” Lemm ran after the bug, but he was nowhere to be found. “Shit.” He sighed, before deciding to look around for any sign of the bug. That bug had to have some kind of connection with the King, and like hell he was going to pass up a chance to get information about the reclusive Pale King. He needed to talk to that bug.

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By @lesiasmadness

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By @redcynder1234

Lemm angrily grumbled at the tiny hands that dragged him halfway across the kingdom. He had tried to fight the smaller vessel off back in the city of tears. When they had suddenly barged into his little relic shop, seeming urgent as he tried to drag the grumpy old bug out of his shop. Lemm had tried to wave them away, but the smaller bug had quite a lot of determination to show them something then and there, at least no husks dare tread in their path as they traveled. The infection may be gone for sure, but husks of former bugs sometimes still lingered around, it was nerve wracking for sure, but lemm was safe in his shop where he could get lost in his work for hours on end. However now with the little shadow dragging him out of the safety of his home, He was a little on edge.

Finally as it seemed the little ghost had dragged them to their location they pointed upwards. Looking up, lemm grumbled seeing an old rusty chain leading up an old well. “Absolutely not.” He growled out. Even as the small vessel flapped their monarch wings to start and climb the chain. Hearing his response however they stopped and looked down before pulling out something from their cloak. One hand on the chain they waved a king's idol in the air. “Yes you’ve been waving that thing at me through this entire journey! I still don’t understand why you’ve dragged me halfway across hallownest.” He barked angrily. If only the little vessel could speak. He assumed they couldn't speak a few visits back as they sold old trinkets at his shop but lemm never could be sure. It really felt like they were speaking sometimes.

The vessel seemed to wave and point it up desperately before disappearing up the well. “Ey! Little squirt! Come back here!” He barked up the shaft angrily. However when no shadow came to retrieve him he just grumbled angrily. “Stupid, familiar looking…” Lemm mumbled under his breath as he climbed up the chain. If his curiosity about what they wanted wasn't so persistent he would have turned straight back around and headed back to the city of tears. Plus, kings idols were a rare find and he wanted to get his hands on as many as he could.

As he scrambled over the ledge of the well, his old carapace not liking the climb in the slightest, he looked around. He remembered hearing about the town of dirtmouth. By its size alone lemm could tell the town must have been a lively and successful one before the infection's grip controlled and destroyed the place. It was sad, maybe to anyone other than lemm at the moment. Grumpy and tired he saw the cloaked vessel padding towards two pinky almost red tinted tents. “Little pest… just doing to leave me behind!” He barked angrily as he followed after the vessel. Nothing left to do this far into this journey but to follow the little gremlin. Plus, in case there were any more infected lingering about, he rather have another soul that could fight them off then be left to fend them off himself. He only knew how to work with small pliers and knives, not nails and needles.

The vessel seemed to be approaching a small crowd that had formed outside the tents. They had been there before the two entered town, but lemm could already tell from a distance they were all… scared? More weary if anything. As he got closer the little ghost had turned, waving the small king's idol wildly while pointing through the crowd. “Give me that.” He snapped while snatching the king's brand from their hands. “I swear if you really wanted to sell it to me you could have done it in the city of tears, instead of dragging me halfway across the kingdom!” He snapped angrily. Making sure it hadn’t been damaged he fetched a bag of geo from under his cloak and dropped it without even looking at the vessel. “You're lucky I'm not taking half of that for dragging me her- OW.” He barked when ghost suddenly yanked his beard. “I swear-“ he growled as he looked down, wavinging the vessel's hand away from his beard. However the vessel was glaring into his soul and pointing. Angrily he huffed and looked up, before his eyes widened. Huh? That was impossible!?!

Looking down at the idol in his hands he looked up. The normal silver cloak was gone, replaced with red jester clothes. His crown of thorns was bent in such a painful looking way it almost made lemm cringe at the thought; and yet as lemm held up the king's idol he could see the similarities. Far too close similarities to be a coincidence. However there was no way the king of hallownest was some low-life jester doing gags and tricks to please the normal class's eye. Especially to a dead kingdom. Yet thinking this could be the king's brother was almost laughable. The king was a wyrm if the small amount of text he deciphered was true. And wyrms were giant beasts that could kill anything in its path. Then who was this look-a-like in front of them? That must be why the vessel had dragged them here, they may be curious themselves but since lemm was such a history nut he would know more. Could have still told him that before dragging him here.

As the jester bowed and the small crowd nervously clapped. Seeming to be more doing it to please someone then actually liking the show. He paused as the jester disappeared back into the pink tents. He knew the vessel was still standing beside them, watching the relic keeper curiously. Lemm knew he shouldn't enter the tent and ask such a question, but so many questions could be solved about this kingdom if this stupid look-a-like statue was this strange jester. The pale king hidden right under everyone's noses. Yet it still felt wrong in some way but he couldn't figure out why.

Lemm didn't understand what caused him to head towards the menacing face-looking tents; but he headed inside their pink tinted curtains. He didn't know what he expected, but it wasn't the tent to be almost pitch black except for small lanterns hanging up around the place. He expected at least a little of the outside world's lights to cut through the fabric. Sure it wasn't bright already in dirtmouth, but the sheets had looked almost see through before, now they looked like solid walls keeping the relic keeper inside. A shiver ran down his back as he almost instantly regretted his decision. He was a relic seeker, not an explorer that went out and actually found the relics to study. However it was a bit too late to turn back now.

Walking down the hallway he saw another bug standing there. Playing a spooky tone upon the accordion in their hands. Lemm wished he could have just snuck around the bug but they noticed him before he got too close. “Mrmm… Sorry, but the master does not want visitors at the moment...” Lemm gulped softly. “Actually I am uh… here to see your jester I believe. I wanted to praise them for the wonderful show.” The lie came out of his mouth a bit smoother than he intended. Yet it seemed the other paused before nodding forward. “Mrmm… Continue then… but do not linger.” they simply stated. Lemm quickly nodded and passed by, making sure the king's idol was safely out of sight from the other bug's eyes. Once passed he calmed down a bit. The hallway led to a pretty large room, silken ropes hanging from just about everywhere above his head. Somewhere tied together, some were almost touching the ground. They were so long, but lemm had to admit it was a pretty sight. Something white suddenly appeared from above, it was the jester alright, carefully twisted around the silken fabric. Was he dancing? It kinda appeared like it. “H-hello?” lemm wasn't one for conversation but it felt a little awkward just watching the other. The other quickly looked down, a mask upon the other's face made the relic seeker shiver. However the others voice didn't sound nearly as threatening as he expected it to be. “Ah! Greetings down there, what brings you to the grimm kin’s tent.” He called down. Carefully sliding down the silken ropes to hang upside down in front of the relic seeker. Lemm nervously took a step back before stealing himself. “I wanted to ask you a question.” The jester tilted his head curiously. Carefully righting himself and wrapping his legs around the silken ropes to keep himself suspended in mid hair.

“Oh?” He hummed curiously “What question do you have for a little jester like me?” he spoke. Lemm gulped nervously before speaking. “Do… were… I….” how does he just ask someone if they were a king?! “Were you a king before?” He blurted out in her strange panic. The jester seemed to pause before bursting out laughing. Lemm huffed even if he knew how stupid that must of just sounded. “I’m serious!” He barked out, feeling a bit flustered. As the jester calmed he wiped a single tear that had formed in the mask's eye. “A funny joke for sure little bug, but there would be no way that I could be a king. I would probably put buzzsaws and little traps as far as the eye could see.” he snickered to himself as he joked, but lemm just huffed. “I am serious-” he barked again but the jester interrupted him “Then your answer is obviously no my small bug.” he chuckled “I could never be a king of something.” He chuckled. “Either way, I don't think you should be back here. If the master finds out you're here he may be quite mad.” The pale jester said with another chuckle. Lemm huffed angrily. “You look like the ruler that used to rule here--” “--That's enough.” the jester spoke with a huff. “I understand a joke but pushing it makes it unfunny.” the other huffed.

Lemm growled. “I’m not joking! I already said that.” he barked “You look like the king of his land, look-!” He held up the king idol that he had hidden in his cloak. The jester paused. If lemm continued to speak he didn't hear it, He focused on the idol in there hand. It made the jester feel strange, like there was something scratching at the back of their head but just couldn't figure out what was causing it. Like a memory long compressed and lost to time. Maybe it was better that they were suppressed but…. Flashes of memories went through his head. Bright white images with blurred faces. Hissing he took a step back before his head cleaned and something warm brushed his shoulder. Looking up he noticed grimm standing over him, his eyes seemed kind and light hearted but the jester could sense the small bit of anger in them.

The jester watched Grimm calmly lead the other outside the tents. Their words didn't fully register to him however as the two left. The strange symbol still was imprinted in his mind but the memories that had come along with them were gone. Strange, but it may be better for such things to stay hidden in his memory, but the jester was still curious. When grimm appeared beside him again through a burst of red smoke he seemed calm, but his red eyes shined in worry. “Ah yes I'm ok.” he chuckled nervously. “Just got a bit of a headache.” he said “What a strange bug.” he spoke, looking towards the entrance to the tent. Grimm only softly hummed “Indeed… Come, we have plenty still to do while we're here.” The jester paused before nodding, following grimm back into the tent.

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By @darkautodraws 

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By @daikoski​ 

The Pale Jester always had a knack for dancing.

—Or perhaps, certain kinds of it.

He’d discovered one time when indulging on a slower song from Brumm, that he had a knack for ballroom dancing of all things! But such a thing isn’t commonplace for his kind of performance, no, he much prefers storytelling accompanied with a fun little jig of sorts. Ballroom dancing—especially with the audience he tends to have—seems to be something a little too formal and delicate.

Which is why he finds himself taking on the endeavor of trusting seemingly delicate, flowing silks with the entirety of himself. Ahh, yes, that of aerial dancing! He notes them as seemingly delicate, as they’re more than capable of securing far more weight than originally thought, but also... he’s very sharp.

—Of course, he’s not so clumsy now to go and let his claws tear straight through the silk now, nor would he allow the plates of his body to catch on it either. Not like that one time, when he had first been trying to pitch the choreography to this performance...

Now that had been something. The clicking tear of threads being pulled apart and the swoop of his stomach as he plummeted before quickly catching himself with his tail, something of a boisterous, abrupt laugh escaping him.

“You’re not trying to escape from a web, are you? Try not to cut yourself down little Fool!” Divine had jeered affectionately, and he could have easily preened from the spark of laughter that ignited the rest of the Troupe before lowering himself.

(... he also most certainly tries to pad the sharp ridges of his body a little more ever since that incident, but that’s besides the point.)

Ah, but that’s beside the point. Such a joyous thing it is, to inspire such a reaction in others, even if it’s from a

slipup like that. Perhaps it’s even better when it is. (Aer all, the Jester in fact would like to think he uses his foolishness to endear

himself to others, not dolt around.)

The tent is empty as of now, though that’s no concern. The Grimmkin will flood the audience the moment he does so much as enter the stage—no, he’s searching for the more unfamiliar-yet-not guests to come in, if at all. Perhaps the little wanderer, the shadow? Or maybe even one of the town folks bold enough to come by? Oh, or the princess warrior! Though her kind are truly experts in silk, and he finds himself unsure of how she’ll take his performance. (It is due to her influence that he felt himself particularly inclined to this song and dance aer all.)

Ah, he should probably do some last checks on the rigging, make sure they’re steady and all that. That, and check on his costume, too.

“C’mon Jester, don’t tell me your talons are going all stiff on ya!” comes the snicker of a Grimmkin trying to goad him on, and he laughs, before launching into a sprightly comical bow, tail flicking. Actually, he feels as nimble as possible, thank you very much!

“Of course not, dear friend! I’m simply waiting to greet our beloved guests—” and speak and she will come, the familiar rubied-red cloak catches his eye, and he immediately pats and dismisses the ‘kin to greet the spider. “And here one comes now!”

“Hello, hello! Welcome, Little Hornet—” there’s a bit of distaste that shines through her expression at his thoughtless nickname, and he would reel it in had he not

already said it, instead opting to tuck the information away for next time, “—you’re just in time for this next performance! Sit down, sit down, make yourself comfortable!”

She’s ushered to her seat, which is something on the front rows amongst the many grimmkin. Idly he notes that neither of her siblings are attending, though he has no complaints.

This one’s less of a personal performance and more for all the Troupe to see, so he won’t be able to converse with her until aer. She comes here most oen to ask questions, aer all. A no-nonsense type of bug she is, and it’s only customary he’ll allow such aer a performance, and she seems to know the same. Nonetheless, he bites back a bark of amusement at the way she glowers at the chatty Grimmkin, a little bit crowded as it is.

Lights snap on, beaming bright and warm, and the show begins.

Distantly, he can hear the beginning notes of Brumm’s accordion, and ah, what a perfect guide he always is! The familiar haunting call sends a thrill through the Jester, and it’s with that he begins his performance.

He wonders briefly if aerial silk dancing has ever been seen within Hallownest. Perhaps so, perhaps not; he only learned due to the Troupe aer all, and Grimm hadn’t really shared where he had learned such an art either...

The whisper of silk that he coils around his hand is taut, strong and secure the more he loops it. It’s with quick, tight motions and a graceful swoop that he suspends himself right upside down, sharp mandibles pulling back into a pleased smile from behind his mask. That was a satisfying maneuver.

There’s a split second of concern regarding his costume—the fabric of his wings just do not seem to be cooperating this time around, but alas, it simply feels right to have them there!

The more he spends within the air, the more inclined, the more fond he becomes in fitting such an image. It feels even better when the silks are pulled and he’s practically in arms reach to the ceiling.

Though the Jester isn’t quite sure how to describe it; a certain kind of fun exhilaration, a familiar twinge in his chest at being lied to such a height—he’d first noticed it through the use of mere ropes and cranks, to trapezing and other such elevated storytelling (Ha! Perhaps if he finds more joyous stories to share, he could workshop that into a joke to tell Hornet...) to now dancing with aerial silks.

He lets himself be guided and pulled along, to sway and twirl with the call of the music and the warmth of the Heart with practiced ease and elegance. But of course; he’s more than prepared for this, and with each swoop and dip his smile widens more and more.

When the curtains close and all the Grimmkin have seen fit to disappear off to do whatever it is their hearts desire, the Jester remains lingering on the stage. To clean up mainly, but it is to keep a keen eye on the nimble princess as well. He watches as she simply hops up and makes her way down towards him, and he perks up in attention.

There’s some attempt at niceties, just polite, pleasant conversation on his part, to which she kind of shuts down aer a moment.

“Why the new performance?” Ahh, so some curiosity was piqued!

The Jester hums thoughtfully, letting the silks hold his weight up as he rocks too far back on his legs. It brushes whisper-so against him.

“Perhaps for no specific reason in particular, other than to further expand my capabilities as a jester!” He somewhat not-answers.

She doesn’t respond, instead opting to give him a very narrow eyed look, suspicion and more, and he feels compelled to continue.

“Well, perhaps not nothing. Hypothetically... if this old soul noticed a certain spiderling’s interest in acrobatics—and this is hypothetical, of course!” Hands up in the air as if in surrender yet jestful, he laughs, “and wished to, say, partake in something similar in an attempt to perhaps bond with her...?”

A pause and a beat. “Had it been to your liking, young one?”

He lets the words linger in the air, before dropping his hands down to tug at the silks once more. He wishes to be honest, so even though he feels... uncertain, telling her that, he doesn’t regret it.

Hornet’s expression does... something. It’s tiny—miniscule, even, and perhaps had it been anyone else but him, that faint little tell might have gone unseen. but he does see it, and he recognizes it quickly as some sort of conflicted emotion, a tension that he’s brought upon her.

It seems she very much teeters on something colder, fists gripping at the edge of her cloak before she almost quietly ekes out, “It had been fine.”

The Jester brightens up—why, from such a grumpy young princess like her, that could very well be the highest praise!

...Though it’s best he does not push further, nor goad her on either. Enjoyable their dances can be (with such strong, violent intent from her too!) he’s already finished his own performance, and she’s certainly due to rest sometime soon, nor would he want to upset her more in the first place.

And much to his surprise, she continues, “Such as... that part when you had dropped suddenly... I thought you were certain to fall and crack your mask in half.” Something of a surprised chuckle is pulled from him, and he hums. “Where you were supported by only one silk. It looked... dire.”

It’s vague enough that he can’t really pinpoint what part of the act she was talking about, but it brings forth words to his tongue, but just which ones?

Yes, just what was that phrase... right!

“That part! I was practically hanging by a thread, was I not?”

(So, he hadn’t been able to workshop that ‘elevated’ joke in time... but such is the way!)

By the Heart... he could consider this another job well-done, couldn’t he? No snapping, harsh remarks on the little spiderlings end, no such invasive shenanigans from any of the other grimmkin—the mischief they could get up to!

“It most certainly felt as though I had been too. These silks simply do not part when you want them to! I very nearly cocooned myself at one point!” He muses. A quick

recovery he always is, but it is still such a wrenching moment when there’s even the slightest miss of a cue.

“Tell me, I’ve never had the honour to learn or witness the art of silk in action. I can consider my act something akin to it, though it’s quite incomparable to that of a spider, and I find myself curious! Are there ever such... shenanigans like that?”

Perhaps it’s his curiosity as a now-performer, to find enjoyment in the silliness and mistakes along the way; a perfect performance starts from somewhere aer all, and he finds himself wishing to know more. Hornet probably knows what he’s doing—making good use of that ‘bonding attempt’ that he so mentioned earlier, and...

Is it in poor taste to joke around like this? She is one of the few weavers le... he wonders oandedly, when Hornet lets out something that sounds like a scoff-laugh.

“You would be surprised. Although we in particular favoured silk to be used in tapestries and story keeping rather than dance, it wouldn’t be... uncommon for a mishap to happen in a more verbose storytelling. Such as a silk shroud meant to mimic the silhouette of a corpse creeper ending up on the audience rather than the speaker themself...”

She does not specify if the one accidentally tossing a silken hunter on their audience is her, from her early days of practicing weaving, or anyone else... but she does look a little more relaxed, even if by a pinch. (And if he looked ever closer, maybe even a little embarrassed? It’s tiny, and far off, but maybe...)

(For some reason, he has a feeling he would have been too. Just a little bit.)

Hornet is about to speak more, unprompted (much to his delight), when she halts. One beat, two beats, and then looks at him.

“...you’ve never learned?” It's a small enough question that he nearly misses it. So like a whisper, edged with a sharp venomous hiss, and when the Jester is able to recollect himself from the sudden shock, he’s tuned back in only to see her cold regard and the turn of her back, needle gripped tighter, for she never goes anywhere without it.

“So now you’re curious.”

...Pardon?

He doesn’t give the reaction she wants, if the (hurt? angry?) scoff she gives at his bewilderment is not enough of a tell, then it’s the way she rolls her eyes before looking askance.

“...I will be taking my leave now.” She mutters something more about ‘he never learned about the weavers’ ... ‘not even of their culture?’ but the last bits of it are lost as she disappears from sight completely.

...

That... had not gone well? Or did it? It most certainly feels as though it did, but now their conversation has been cut short without him being able to give so much as a farewell. But he lets her leave. Not that he would stop her, especially knowing she’ll stop by sometime again, but he simply... watches.

She had been upset, in the beginning, and then the end. Upset at him. (Isn’t the first time.) (That’s one, aching pain in his chest today.)

...

The curtains have fallen, and as of now it’s time he recuperates for the next performance.

...That, or dust off that lantern of his to go and gather more flames for the Heart. The Troupe Master had allowed him to forgo such responsibilities in favour of honing his aerial dance aer all. Even with permission, he can feel the faint call of the flames, the flicker-spark as they burn deep within the depths of this poor, dilapidated kingdom.

(Or is it the call of the Heart pulling him away from his encounter with Hornet?)

(The enthralling change in attention is enough to jarr him just a little bit out of his thoughts, though he’s unsure if that’s what he wants or not. Distraction or focus?)

Deliberately, he redirects his thoughts to the spiderling, to their interactions.

...As a whole, it seems today has le him with very different emotions.

She had been testy at first, as always, but it seemed like he managed to converse pleasantly for her, even for just an exchange. And then she’s up and gone in not a moment later.

...There was an uncertain edge to her, when he had told her of his reasons for practicing such dance. The faintest scrunch of her fangs, as if trapped between pulling back into a snarling hiss or an uncertain smile. Or that if she did feel hostile, it was as though she was in polite company and couldn’t afford to be as such.

(And he knows very well that she does not quite see him as polite company, so why does she refrain as such other than habit?)

She was never one to hide her distaste towards him, but that had been something... different. What, he isn’t sure, but... odd, for such a small detail to stick out to him like that.

Ah, haha! But of course he recognized such a tell, not when he has the exact same quirk! Conflicted between strict decorum and honesty, where he’d much rather be honest and forthright than needlessly tense, as he’s so oen teased by his beloved—!

—His... beloved? No name follows that, and although it would be a complete term of endearment

as is, it doesn’t... feel complete. His beloved... one who knows him, knows his face despite the mask upon it

now...? His...

...Odd.

(...Here’s another chest pang.)

There’s a harsh little wheeze of a sour note, and the Jester perks up to see Brumm approaching, fiddling with the instrument before kicking into a slower, soer melody. He hadn’t realized he'd been standing there still, center of the stage, still with hands entangled in the silks, still very much not cleaning up or resting.

“Hello there, friend!” He greets, receiving only a nod in response and a curious look.

“Mrmm... Did something happen? Had it not gone well?” Straight to the point as always, too...

“I...” he falters, and for a second he feels terribly improper for such an obvious display of weakness, before continuing, “I do believe it couldn’t have gone any better!”

And it’s true! There isn’t much in his opinion that could be improved other than the few minute details, but of course, he is always striving to grow! Simply, everything had felt so right, he has no current complaints for himself!

Which is why... how odd it is that he feels so... down. This is by far one of his best performances yet, but that encounter with Hornet... it leaves him feeling tense. She had, while not the main reason he wished to learn such a dance, had been an influential part of it at least...

Because he cares for her like a... like a daughter. (Though that feels a touch too much, considering the fact she is the princess-protector of this fallen kingdom, and how terrible it is that she is to bear the responsibilities of the once so revered king...)

...So maybe a niece instead?

(Perhaps niece would work better—he can’t go and become too fond of the come and goers who eventually leave, just as how the Troupe will part from these ruins eventually too. But alongside that, there was an amusing term he had learned a few kingdoms back from a grub who had claimed him as their... ‘cool uncle’ in feeling!)

(Truthfully, he had never really learned the semantics of family lines like that—never needed to anyways. Taking up the mantle as a Jester of no-one but the

Troupe leaves him snapping up little bits of information from the many different places they’ve visited.)

(And here he is, subconsciously trying to claim a familial title for himself when he’s the last person someone would want as family.)

...

“I had believed perhaps this would be a more successful performance than my usual song and dance.” he admits, jovial tone a little lacking, far less overplayed than it usually is.

“Though I haven’t the faintest idea why... I thought perhaps it would make her happier that I do something she could potentially partake in. Aer all, I had never........”

Sharp words echo in his mind. ‘You've never?’

..........He had never what? The same phrase worms itself way into his mind again, this time from his own tongue. The things he has never done, but... what? Why is it that he feels inclined, feels like he needs, with all of his foolish heart, to make up for something he isn't aware of? Of strings le undone, of time he had owed but had never given...

There’s something tugging at him faintly, trying to unmoor itself from the deepest parts of his mind yet shrouded in the familiar, now comforting mist of blazing warmth and flame. He tries to prod at the thought a little further, before the feeling escapes him.

(Or perhaps the flame that so carefully protects his mind, so caringly had swept it up, crisping it with its bright beauty and letting it smolder into ashes so that these vague thoughts may no longer cling to him.)

He had never......

......Well, he’s never done many things! What he does now though is what’s more important than ever, and if he so desires to try and chip at all the ‘nevers’, what better way to do it than travelling with the dear Troupe?

Unconsciously, he tugs at the hanging silks. Something to fiddle with if anything.

(His head feels foggy again, chest tight. That’s three aching pains today. Or more? He can’t tell.)

Then there’s the low voice of his dear friend, and the Jester tunes into what Brumm is saying. “...Have you shown Master your new performance?” He doesn’t see, or rather, he can’t see the solemn looks of the musician, can only hear the little ‘hrmm...’ that vibrates from his voicebox.

The song he’s playing comes to an end, and he draws the last note out, long and mournful.

“Ah, but of course. Though I must say I haven’t performed it for him officially other than in practice—it would do me well to hone my skills further! You don't suppose he's free currently?” Brumm is offering a distraction, he’s aware, but nonetheless, he wouldn’t turn down a moment with the Troupe Master when he’s been nothing but kind during pain days like this.

“He should be. I shall inform him then.” He inclines his head. “...Take care.”

Brumm bids him a gentle farewell, soon disappearing into the depths of the tent and leaving the Jester to his thoughts.

So.

...Thrice. Thrice, that those aching pains have visited him within this same hour, and he frowns. Thrice, and he doesn’t have an inkling as to how and where they could have come and gone, nothing but a lingering phantom sensation in his chest.

(He had talked about it with Brumm one time, when they were both musing over the ambiguity of their characters; life before the Troupe, faded and gone, just as with everyone else. Life with the Troupe, all that they’ve known, but a satisfactory life it is.)

Where little weird memory aches aren’t impossible, or even uncommon, but are well taken care of. Soothed even, by the Heart.

Ah yes, the Heart. It’s taken the entire Troupe under its care, hasn’t it? They’re all here with the gied masks that brands them as one with the Heart, they’re here for a reason.

And the comfort that so fills him is something overwhelming, bright and unrelenting, such is the way of a flame within the dark. It washes over the last of the tugging memory pains, and he lets it. Lets it singe and smolder, lets it drape its curtain of red over his mind, so that the ache in his chest will disappear.

All of the lingering worries, all the doubts are held alo by a bare thread— —and the Heart snips through it with ease, and the Fool is at peace.

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

By @cloudcryptid

[kpop-cakepops]

Soulmate: Bells (part 1) // JeonghanxFem!Reader

Ummmmm so mayhaps this ended up being WAY LONGER THAN INTENDED AND WILL HAVE A 2ND PART.

Genre: IDK how to explain it other than VERY light angst mixed with fluff.

Warnings: none

Word count: 3,573 🙊

"I'm sorry Jeonghan... I really thought this would work out. I thought that this soulmate thing wasn't going to sway me" Sowon couldn't maintain eye contact with Jeonghan as she spoke.

"What do you mean?" He asked with a trembling voice.

"Jeonghan... I found my soulmate... and as much as I fought it, everything in me gave up..." She said

Soulmates. It seemed that the older he grew the more he hated the term. Soulmates? Who in their right mind would believe that a little sound you heard on your sixteenth birthday would lead you to the person you were meant to be with for the rest of your life?

Sowon, apparently.

Despite having sworn to each other that soulmates would not make them waver, despite swearing to be together no matter what, no matter how hard and bumpy the road got... yet there she was sitting across from him, telling him she had given up on all those promises.

"Are you telling me you cheated on me?" He asked.

Sowon's eyes met the ground, but the more she refused to talk the more it dawned on Jeonghan, she had. She had cheated on him.

"Sowon-"

"I'm sorry! Please, I'm so sorry. It was the last thing I wanted to do but I couldn't stop myself... Jeonghan it's real. I heard it, the sound of glass clinking against glass. It sounds ridiculous because it's such a trivial thing to hear, but the sound made everything feel so clear, it was like my heart just knew and... Jeonghan, I love him. I don't even know him, but there's this- this part of me that I just can't control. I want to! I want to know him" she cried out. Jeonghan felt like all air had been kicked out of him. How was he meant to respond to that? He'd never experienced what Sowon was talking about, he couldn't even bring himself to imagine it... all he knew was that he didn't want to lose her. "I can't do this to you and I can't do it to him either. I'm sorry... we need to break up"

Tears pricked at Jeonghan's eyes as he watched the girl he loved the most stand from her seat and walk away from him.

That was the last time he saw her.

***

"Turns out his soulmate is a guy named Wonwoo... and he's so much prettier than me too! I seriously, cannot believe this is happening to me again... I was convinced I was his soulmate" you held your phone between your ear and your shoulder as you struggled to pull out a book from its place on the bookshelf. It had been a week since you'd tried to convince Mingyu that he was your soulmate, only for him to find his real soulmate a few days after meeting you.

"Maybe you should stop trying to force every pretty person around you to be your soulmate, Mingyu's bell wasn't even like yours, he was waiting to hear a bike bell and you didn't even hear your bell either, and NO someone yelling Taco Bell isn't a bell. Are you nuts?" Your best friend Soonyoung was on the line eating something as he yelled at you. It was a cycle he was both annoyed with and used to, but he understood. After spending most of your life alone, he understood why you were so adamant about finding your soulmate, the person that was meant to be with you for the rest of your life. The person who would rid you of the fear of dying alone and in pain like those who were never able to meet their soulmates because that's how this world worked. No matter how much you tried, sometimes meeting the one person that was meant to love you, was an impossible task.

"Okay so maybe I didn't hear the bell but I heard a bell" you insisted as you tugged harshly at the book finally managing to free it from its spot but dropping it in the process. You scurried quickly to grab it but a pair of dainty hands beat you to it and pushed the book up to you.

"Thank you" you murmured not paying any attention and walking straight past the stranger.

"You're welcome" answered Soonyoung, and it was almost like she could hear his shit-eating grin.

"Shut up, I wasn't-" you were cut off by the sound of a tinkling bell as the door to the small book store swung open, and suddenly, as if by art of magic everything around you seemed to stop. It was like one of those five gum commercials, at least that's the only thing you could compare it to. All your senses were alive and you couldn't help but feel... aware... of what, you didn't know, but you felt aware. You were reverted to your 16th birthday, sitting alone in your large dining room with no one but your nanny and the sound of a hopeful bell ringing in your mind marking you for the future. "Wait... wait Soonyoung, I heard it. That was it. I heard the bell" you said as turned around quickly to find the person that had just handed you your book.

Your best friend groaned on the other side of the line "Oh god... are you being serious right now? Are you seriously doing this again?"

"Shit... Shit shit shit, where is he? I lost him. He was right behind me-" you rushed over to the spot where you'd dropped the book but no one was there anymore. Then it hit you... the door. The door opened and closed only moments after he handed the book to you, he must have walked out. "Oh no... he left!" You dropped your book and rushed out the door, your phone still in hand as a sense of panic started to fill you.

"Soonyoung, I can't find him. It was him and I don't know what he looks like!" you were starting to freak out. How could you miss him like that? You were also confused. Wasn't the sound supposed to be automatic? As soon as the two of you met the sound was supposed to trigger... for the two of you so why wasn't he there? Were you mistaken?

"Wait, Y/N are you being serious right now?"

"Yes! Soonyoung, it was the bell, but I missed him. Oh god, NOW WHAT?!" You asked as you walked down the sidewalk, eyes roaming every single person in sight in case anything... special or magical happened, but it was to no avail. No one seemed to do anything for her.

"Y/N are you sure you're not just-"

You cut your best friend off in annoyance. "I'll call you back later, I need to find this guy" you grumbled quickly hanging up the call after. You really couldn't find him, he had been in front of you just moments before but he'd disappeared almost as he'd come. A second wave of panic passed you as you looked around helplessly. Tears were pricking at your eyes because despite being childish and immature most of the time, the feeling you got when hearing that bell was nothing like anything you'd felt before... and yet... your soulmate didn't look for you. Your soulmate should have heard the bell too, right? So where was he?

Slowly your biggest fear started materializing before you in the shape of nothingness, in the shape of loneliness. Your soulmate didn't seem to want you or at least didn't seem to care enough to come back and find you.

Except, he had found you. Your very soulmate was staring at you from the bookstore's window with a gaze of confusion, a part of him hated that your sole existence meant he couldn't choose love for himself, that because of the woman on the other side of the glass he could no longer be with the person he chose. That he was predestined to love someone he knew nothing about... yet the other half of him felt an unexplainable urge to walk up to you and hug you like he'd missed you his whole life. Of walking up to you and wiping away the tears you were earnestly trying to hide as you stared at every single person that walked by.

That's why Jeonghan found himself avoiding the bookstore like the plague after that day. He would walk by on occasion wondering if it'd be okay to walk in, but then he'd see you sitting outside the shop waiting for something to happen, and he'd turn right back around. Eventually, you stopped showing up, and although he'd never stopped to talk to you, Jeonghan subconsciously wondered where you'd gone and if you were okay.

After a month of not going, Jeonghan finally dropped by the bookstore when Joshua called him to help him with a new shipment. His friend had grown increasingly curious as to why Jeonghan had been avoiding the store when it seemed the store had been his safe haven since his heart-wrenching breakup.

"Mind telling me what you've been up to lately?" Asked Joshua when the last customer was out the door.

"Studying for exams" Jeonghan lied as he moved the stack of books to be donated into a box.

"Alone?" Asked Joshua curiously.

"Yes alone, who else would I study with?" Asked Jeonghan as he moved his floppy red hair out of his face.

"Oh... alright" Joshua answered.

Unable to hold it in, Jeonghan's best friend spoke again. "I found my soulmate," he said. Joshua knew it was a touchy topic for Jeonghan, but he was his best friend and it was important for him that Jeonghan know.

The red-haired man cleared his throat uncomfortably, he had found his too, but that was not something he necessarily felt like sharing with the world. He had tried convincing himself he was keeping it a secret to show that he was in control of his own mind and emotions, but in reality, he was scared and embarrassed. Scared that he'd be proven wrong about you, that you'd be everything he wanted and dreamed of, and embarrassed that due to his own capriciousness he was hurting you.

"Okay" was all that Jeonghan could muster at the news.

"I want you to meet her," said Joshua as he put unsold books into the same box Jeonghan had been filling.

This caused Jeonghan to pause for a moment. Joshua wanted him to meet his soulmate, "what for?"

Joshua sighed and stood up straight, his big eyes looking straight at his friend. "Because she's important to me and you are my best friend. I want you both to get to know each other."

Unable to say no to his best friend, Jeonghan nodded his head, "okay."

The lack of drive in his usually playful best friend worried Joshua and it pained him to know that if he even tried to bring the worries up, Jeonghan would simply disappear for a few more weeks again. "I invited her out for dinner, her friend will be coming too, so you don't have to worry about third-wheeling"

With a thin forced smile, Jeonghan stood and dusted his hands in front of himself. "Okay"

By the time they finished packing up the boxes, Jeonghan was ushered out of the store. He watched as his friend turned the "open" sign over and locked the door. Subconsciously, Jeonghan's eyes stopped on the silver bell hanging from the door. Memories of the way you had looked on that day, panicked and frantic as you searched the area for him. It made him wonder yet again, what you were up to and if everything was okay with you.

The wait at the restaurant wasn't long. It only took about 5 minutes for a girl to walk in with a bright smile on her face, one that was instantly matched by Joshua's the moment he lay eyes on her. "Hey" she greeted happily.

Jeonghan was too busy watching the two interact to even notice the way you'd followed Joshua's soulmate into the restaurant like a dejected little shadow. The truth was, you hadn't exactly planned on being there. You had been spending the last few weeks feeling sorry for yourself and ignoring your two best friends, for some reason you had started to get comfortable with that way of life, that is until In-na came barging into your home squealing about her soulmate... you couldn't exactly say no to her invitation, and free dinner wasn't exactly a bad idea.

And then you sat down.

You didn't notice him at first. When In-na had told you you'd be meeting her soulmate, you hadn't been thrilled, it almost felt like a slap to the face, but you knew your friend better than to believe her to be evil like that. You knew she had good intentions in mind when she told you her soulmate would be inviting his best friend so you wouldn't feel too much like a third-wheel. It was rude of you, for sure, but since the moment you sat you'd been on your phone texting Soonyoung about how much you hated being there, and trying to convince him to pick you up, but Soonyoung was ignoring you for ignoring him.

"This is my best friend, Y/N" you heard In-na introduce you and for the first time since you'd arrived, you were forced to face the two guys in front of you.

And then you wished you hadn't.

It was him. Everything in your being was SCREAMING that it was him. Every fiber in you knew that the man with hair dyed a deep red, that was sitting across from you at that very moment was him. But something was wrong with him. His big droopy eyes looked like a flashlight that had run out battery, all signs of light were gone and something in you stirred. Was it sadness? Worry? You couldn't pinpoint it.

Then there was Jeonghan, who, unbeknownst to you, saw almost a reflection of himself when he saw you. The burnt-out gaze and the bags under your eyes, except he was the cause for your sadness and then something in him stirred, but unlike you, he knew exactly what it was.

Guilt.

Jeonghan was about to excuse himself to leave but you beat him to it by painting a smile on your face, "nice to meet you guys"

You were mad. Angry. Fuming. He was pretending to not know you. He had pretended from the start because you could tell, even if you didn't want to, you could read him like a book because, despite him not wanting it, you two were entwined for life. Quite literally biologically wired to be together, because that's how society worked, that's how it had worked for centuries.

"Nice to meet you too" greeted Joshua softly, but his eyes we not set on you, just like In-Na's weren't. They were soulmates, after all, they were blind to the world around them... and it was simply disappointing how unlike them you and Jeonghan were.

Dinner was long, the energy emanating from you was directly absorbed by the man sitting across from you. He was uncomfortable, the way you were acting just didn't seem to sit well with him. From the way you picked at your food without taking a single bite, to the way you looked like you would rather be anywhere but where you sat, he felt... worried?

"Who wants ice cream?" Asked In-na and Joshua who, contrary to the 2 extras sitting beside them, were having the time of their lives. You wanted so badly to say you didn't want ice cream, to tell her to take you home, but the light blush that spread across your friend's cheeks and the almost sparkly gaze Joshua stared at her with, didn't allow you to make such a request. So instead you remained silent, and to no one's surprise so did Jeonghan.

"I know a great place, I'll go pay for the food, and then I'll drive us there," Joshua announced.

With that, he walked in direction of the front counter, leaving behind the love of his life and the two dysfunctional soulmates that refused to so much as look at each other. "Isn't he amazing? Isn't he, Y/N?" In-na gushed.

You smiled genuinely, if anything good had come out of that dinner it was the amount of joy it brought your best friend. "He's awesome, In-na. You two really are made for one another"

She clasped your hand in hers and grinned softly. "Thank you for coming. I promise we'll find your soulmate soon" she mentioned mindlessly. It was beyond frustrating to see Jeonghan lift his head from the corner of your eyes, his expression almost clueless.

"I'm going to go outside, I need to make a call real quick, yeah?"

In-na nodded, but you doubted she even heard what you said as her eyes were trained on the man paying at the front counter. With a sigh, you stepped out of your seat and took yourself out of the restaurant. The fresh air outside and the fact that you were no longer around Jeonghan seemed to decompress your lungs.

As if on autopilot, your fingers tapped at the screen of your phone calling Soonyoung.

"I don't know if you realize this, but I'm ignoring you" the man on the other end snapped as he answered the phone.

Hearing his voice made your heart twist in relief because despite being a dumb jerk sometimes, Soonyoung was your best friend. He was your comfort and that's precisely what you needed: comfort. "Soonyoung..." you hadn't noticed you were on the verge of tears until you spoke his name.

All signs of pettiness were gone from his voice as he answered, "y/n. Are you crying?"

"Listen, I get that you're upset with me, but I really, really, need you to come pick me up" you begged, forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat. "I promise you can go right back to ignoring me once you drop me off home"

"Where are you? I'll be there in 5 minutes."

"I'll send you the address. Just please come."

You hung up the call, hands wiping at your eyes quickly until a hand reached out before you, the same hand that had handed you a book back then, except this time it was handing you a tissue. You sniffle a bit before snatching it from him and blowing your nose obnoxiously.

Jeonghan didn't say anything as you both stood side by side waiting for Soonyoung to pick you up. He was still feeling guilty, but what exactly was he supposed to say? I'm in love with someone else? No, of course not, because the more he watched you, the more he forgot what Sowon looked and sounded like, and the more he stood in your proximity feeling all types of emotions... the more he forgot what 'loving' Sowon had ever felt like. Was he supposed to tell you that he hated you for something that was entirely out of your, his, and even Sowon's control when all he could focus on was how nice your hair smelled and how good the warmth of your body felt even when he wasn't touching you?

Exactly 5 minutes went by in loud silence until a car drove up to the curve. You pushed yourself off the wall you'd been leaning on and turned to look at your sullen soulmate, who had instinctively followed suit stepping away from the wall in alarm. You huffed in frustration as you watched him. You wanted to tell him off so badly, and yet his big eyes were now telling you he was just as confused as you about all the sudden feelings you were both feeling, you were so flustered you ended up walking away. Then you thought about it twice and turned right back around and stopped right before Jeonghan, your hand grabbing his causing his eyes to meet yours directly for the first time that night. "You, if you run away again and pretend to not know me, I will find you and... I don't know what I'll do yet, but Joshua will tell me where you are. I will make sure of it." you warned him, "bye." The bite in your words made him wince.

He wanted to answer and maybe even apologize but you didn't give him a chance to as you walked up to the car that was waiting for you across the street. A man within the car was glaring at him through squinted eyes, surely he was trying to intimidate Jeonghan, but all Soonyoung really did was make Jeonghan uncomfortable.

"Stop staring at him and drive" you grumbled bringing your friend back to reality.

At that moment both In-na and Joshua stepped out of the restaurant with bright smiles. "Where's Y/N?" asked In-na, big eyes searching the area for you.

Jeonghan didn't find it in him to answer her. The buzzing feeling in the hand you'd held was too intriguing to him.

"Can I have her address?" Jeonghan blurted.

The couple stared at him as if he'd grown a third head. "Um, why would you need that?" asked his best friend in confusion.

Because maybe having a soulmate isn't as bad as I'd thought it'd be.

[marvelwritings]

A piece of me has disappeared

Summary: By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities. 

or: Peter get's abducted and Tony goes to rescue his son 

Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet. Morgan is in her bed and there’s no doubt that tomorrow at seven am she’ll be up and at ‘em to wake Peter up. Tony and Pepper are across the room of his, their frantic work attitudes finally put to the sleep they so desperately need. Peter is blinking up at his roof in his bedroom, feeling fine, good even, peaceful and sated and most importantly, safe.

Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet. Morgan is in her bed and there’s no doubt that tomorrow at seven am she’ll be up and at ‘em to wake Peter up. Tony and Pepper are across the room of his, their frantic work attitudes finally put to the sleep they so desperately need. Peter is blinking up at his roof in his bedroom, feeling fine, good even, peaceful and sated and most importantly, safe.

Everyone’s sleeping, their breaths loud in the evening quiet and …. The repeats stops working once Peter’s stomach gnaws again, the hunger he’s so gravely experiencing has switched to a whole new level. No longer the petty grumbles of an empty stomach, instead it’s replaced by the need to eat anything, despite Peter’s rationality telling him he can’t. He’s been locked up for at least seven days, but he’s still to sceptic to eat anything his captors offer him. He’s very close to breaking.

He tries to hold on by imagining that he’s at home, but he’s so tired, yet so fitful he won’t close his eyes for more then 10 seconds, and the constant torture is so jarring it hurts worse to imagine home, then be woken up in reality, than to just to be present. Peter wonders if Tony is every going to find him.

The first day, he had no question about it. Tony is scarily determined and protective to anyone who dares come after the people he considers family, Peter got a first row demonstration when some journalist tried to bad mouth Spiderman and he got clocked in the jaw, so Peter knows it’s just a matter of time.

By day three, the first doubts set in. He’s convinced Tony is still out looking for him, but putting in the effort doesn’t always guarantee results. These people that abducted him are clever, and they know about his spider abilities. So much so that they keep him sedated at all times, just enough sedative to keep him conscious, but not too little that he can tap in his superstrength. Peter will never be able to escape on his own.

Maybe if the avengers got called in they were close, but Peter’s not sure Tony would call in people he hasn’t spoken to in a few months, purely to find him. He can hold out hope though.

The third day is also the day his captures, he hasn’t seen any faces so far and the sedative contorts their voices too much to match them to somebody he knows, start with the emotional manipulation. So far, they had stuck to electrocution by tazers and punches applied to any sensitive area of his body, but Peter must not have been broken fast enough for them.

‘You know, you remind me of the stereotypical bad guys in movies, like in kids movies? Do you like kid movies? My favorite is Frozen’, Peter had once babbled in between punches through bitten teeth, trying to keep up his high spirits.

They didn’t like that one bit.

They claim all sort of ridiculous things, like that the Starks paid money for them to have kidnapped him, that Tony never started searching for him, that he might as well give up because no one was coming to fetch him. Peter laughs in their face, witty even in the face of extreme danger. It was still funny to him then. Now, on the evening of the seventh day, he stares unblinking at a wall, only moving when the physical pain becomes too much and he needs an outlet to scream.

‘Please’, he pleads sobbing. If he wasn’t so starved as he was, so mentally vulnerable, he would have been embarrassed. As it stands, Peter’s just so incapable of resisting, he simply gives in.

‘Please stop,’ Peter whimpers. If he had anything to give he’d bargain, but money is tight for May and him, and he has no knowledge of anything avengers related that could be of interest to these people. Mister Stark told him it was for his own safety, so it wouldn’t be used as leverage against him, but in Peter’s warped mind it further adds proof Tony never trusted him.

‘Ahn’, a captor coos, ‘he’s begging already, how cute.’ The voice is distinctly that of a woman’s, but it hold nothing of the warm timbre both aunt May and Pepper possess. He misses them.

The woman slides a hand up in Peter’s hair, and for one confusing moment Peter thinks she’s going to start stroking it, like Tony does, but then she balls her hands into fists and pulls his head aside. The next tazer gets placed in his neck.

‘This wouldn’t be happening if your so beloved mentor would just give up the plans for the new shield initiative, but alas, as long as he doesn’t you’ll be stuck here. The tazzer buzzes to life and Peter seizes up. It’s the so many’th time today, that Peter gives up on holding back, his scream ricochets in the room.

‘Then again, maybe we went after the wrong kid. Maybe we should have taken Tony Starks real kid? The one he actually cares about?’

Tears stumbles down his cheeks and he wishes he could fall back into unconsciousness, but of course life is not that kind. No, he begs inside his head, to warm out to speak. Not Morgan, never Morgan. He’d die before he’d let anything happen to her.

‘What do you think soldier,’ she addresses the second captor in the room, ‘perhaps a phone call would speed Stark along? A sign of life and how close to it being snuffed out the child is? What do you want Peter?’ She asks sickly sweet, as if it’s a regular question and not a taunt.

Still, Peter can’t help but reach out. He longs for one phone call so wholeheartedly. Maybe, maybe he can convince Mister Stark to get him out of this mess. He could promise to do every task Mister Stark ask of him, he could even offer to work for Stark industries until he could pay back the money he’d pay Peter’s kidnappers, anything to get out of here. Peter will do anything.

‘I think he’s agreeing.’ The woman grins, pulling out a burner phone out of her back pocket. She types for several excruciating moments, in which Peter begs to every god listening that Mister Stark will pick up. That he’ll hear Peter out.

‘Hello,’ the woman greets the phone, her smirk so evil Peter’s spider senses warm him to run, fighting through the drugs. ‘I think I have something that belongs to you Stark.’

She lowers the phone to a few inches from Peter’s ear, because Peter is too tied up to hold it on his own. ‘Speak loudly kid.’

The use of the nickname causes shudders to run down Peter’s back. Why can’t he go home?

‘Mister Stark, please help me, I don’t know where I am, but- I want to go home, please mister Stark I-. I’ll do anything you want, just please.’ Peter’s whines gain pitch, until he is nothing but a sobbing mess, barely worth the name Peter Parker, let alone Spiderman.

The phone clicks shut.

‘Whoops, looks like he hung up’, The woman snickers, patting Peter’s cheek with fake compassion. Peter bellows, heaving so severely the nonexistent food he ate threatens to come back up.

He’d never find out the phone was never connected in the first place.

---

By the grace of Peter doesn’t know what, he drops unconscious after the failed phone call to Mister Stark. The sleep is fitful at best, but at least it helps restock his powers. When Peter comes too, there are loud sounds just outside of the room he’s captivated in. He thinks there’s screaming and pleading, but he’s so exhausted he can’t bring himself to care. His hands drop uselessly by his side, his head turned away from the door as he squeezes his eyes shuts.

Why can’t this be over yet?

The door busts of his hinges, the door falls inwards. Immediately, the yellow and red armor, belonging to the iron man suit, rushes in, with the faceplate down. Now that the door is open, or gone more like, It’s clear that all the sounds Peter had been hearing where the scream of his captures. There are many of them, but they’re being taken down one by one.

Peeking aside the Iron man armor, Peter sees a flash of red and blue, and captain America’s shield knocking someone out cold.

‘Kid, kid’, Mister Stark draws his attention in a panic. The faceplate is still down, which means that Mister Stark is either not here, like he wasn’t when the vulture first dropped him into a lake, or he’s assessed the situation and deemed it too dangerous to lower his defenses.

‘You’re okay underoos, we’re getting you out of here.’ With very little effort, Mister Stark snaps restraints on Peter’s wrist and ancles, all the while murmuring under his breath. He’s trying to reassure Peter, but it’s not having any type of effect.

Instead, the comfort causes Peter to burst into tears once more, his body begging for food and pain medication that will make everything stop hurting. He doesn’t care that Mister Stark is doing this out of rightfulness, or maybe out of debt out of some kind that he’s trying to even out, Peter just wants to go home.

Once the restraints are all loose, and Peter is free of them, Mister Stark waits for a tense second, maybe expecting Peter to hob off the table and join the fight or something. That doesn’t happen. Peter lays motionless on the table, looking intensely at the glowing eyes of the iron man suit, maybe trying to convey a message that Mister Stark can’t decipher.

‘Come on Pete, we have to get out of here before they bring backup. I can only hold them off for so long.’

‘Back up?’ Peter ask nonsensical, his spider senses blaring danger at him.

‘Yeah, they’re big fans of the avengers, they’ll all be swarming in here for autographs soon, but we’re kinda busy so we really have to go now.’ Mister Stark turns frantic, his hands carefully, oh so cautiously, gripping at his shoulders.

Peter allows his muscles to turn limp, pliant under strange hands. They belong to his mentor, to one of the only touches he has ever felt that don’t originate from people who are trying to hurt him, but he’s so very terrified, it doesn’t register. Peter holds still, submissive to whatever is about to happen because the pain always seems to end faster when he doesn’t struggle.

‘Peter’, Mister Stark anguished voice insists, his faceplates lifts up, and the dull eyes of who Peter has come to think of as a father gaze upon him with despair. Mister Starks hair is greasy, his mouth is pulled down in a grimace, and his eyes are, for a lack of better word grief stricken. He’s so much older then he was before Peter was taken. ‘Please buddy, we have to go.’

Mister Stark’s calloused finger strokes Peter cheek with the utmost care, barely even pressing firm enough for Peter to feel it. He does though, and traps the touch between his check and his shoulder.  The dam breaks, and the barrier of terror that clouded Peter’s judgment lifts with it. He gasps, coming up for a breath of fresh air, and the moment between mentor and son brings at least a sliver of clarity, before he sinks back under the enormity of his panic.  

‘I can’t walk’, Peter rasps, his throat torn from all the screams. He refuses to let that stop him, he’s so close to safety, he needs to push on further just a tad longer. ‘Please Mister Stark, I can’t walk.’

‘It’s okay Pete’, Tony soothes, pressing an unyielding kiss to his forehead, and if at all possible, Peter see the rage harden his face even more. ‘I’m going to get you out of here, but it’s gonna hurt, I’m sorry.’

Before Peter can begin to process that statement, Mister Stark puts the weight on his knees, the iron man suit helping to lift Peter as if it’s no trouble at all.  Tony is no liar, Peter finds, as his body begs to be placed back on the uncomfortable bed. Even places that had been relatively unharmed ache, and Peter feels like a broken doll.

‘It’s okay Kiddo we’re almost there, just a minute longer.’ Peter clings to Mister Stark, using every ounce of strength to hang on, despite the fact that Tony has a tight grip on him as well. Iron man isn’t fighting alone, as the avengers are here to back him, them, up. In any other situation, Peter would be gushing. Not only is he seeing his heroes in action, but they’re in action for him, to help him, but now, Peter only turns his head to burrow it into Mister Starks chest plate.

‘Please, please’, Peter whispers the entire way to the jet, not even realizing he’s begging for something.

‘I got you Pete’, Tony assures, one hand briefly leaving Peter’s back to shoot at a capture that’s standing in the way of the jet. Other than that, he doesn’t interfere with the fight one time, but he must itch too. Peter hears him bark orders at captain America, telling him to take some of them alive.

‘Please don’t leave me here, I’ll be good, I’ll be good.’

The Jet is nice and warm, something Peter relishes in, but when Tony tries to lower Peter on a medbed, that’s objectively much more comfortable then the bed he was on before, Peter screams. No words are spoken, but the scream startles Mister Stark just the same.

‘Stark, the base is cleared, get him strapped in, Banner is coming’, Natasha ushers, ignoring Peter’s cries and running to the cockpit. Stark has him, she argues, and it does the kid no good to have more prying eyes on him.

‘What is it, are you in pain?’ Tony asks franticly, without responding to Nat, hands hovering over Peter’s body to check for injuries, the light dims when he spots just how badly he was treated in captivity.

Peter screams again when Mister Stark pulls away too far for his liking, latching onto the suit so rigorous it creaks in protests.

‘Please, I’ll be good, don’t leave me, please. I- I know… I’m sorry, Morgan- I’, Peter can’t talk with how much he’s weeping, there are so many things to say and all of them are fighting one another to be said first. Eventually, after everyone has already touched base, the jet leaves and Doctor Banner urgers Tony to place him on the bed, Peter settles for; ‘Don’t leave me here.’

‘Peter’, Tony spits, so harsh that Peter snaps to attention, letting go of the armor and limply following where mister Stark wants him. He gently grips Peter’s chin, mindful of the bruises, and with glistening eyes, he conveys; ‘I’m never leaving you here, do you understand. I don’t care what else you have in your head, but right now, all I need you to know is that I’m not leaving you. Ever.’

He waits for the conforming nod, which Peter only gives when Mister Stark clasps his hand into his. ‘Beside, May would kill me if I came back without her nephew, and I don’t want to be the one to receive her wrath.’ Tony laughs faintly.

He wants to cry at that, good or bad he’s not sure, but instead he allows himself to be lowered, giving in only because Tony is crouching down with him, shielding Peter’s body with his own. It’s unsensical, there in the jet and there’s no danger, but if Peter feels protected Tony will do it, no questions asked.

As soon as he’s in a horizontal positions, Doctor Banner injects him with pain medication, and within seconds, Peter has floated away, dreaming of the lake house with Morgan, Pepper and tony and May at the end of the hallway.

---

Peter knows he’s in the medbay before his body has even fully awoken. He’s been here before, perhaps one to many times for it too be so familiar, and he can recognize the atmosphere from anywhere. The smell of disinfectant lingers around the room heavily, but so does the smell of motor oil, coming from Mister Stark’s lab the floor below the medbay. Usually he’s not alone when he wakes up either, accompanied by Mister Stark or May, maybe even both, and so despite the room having a different connotation, it holds security for Peter.

When all his senses click into place, with an almost audible snap after being out of commission for a week, the burning anguish joins it. It’s almost worse than during the torture itself, because it’s hitting him all at once now, and after stewing for a day his body is one big bruise, but it’s also better, because no more hurt can be added.

Blinking his eyes open, Peter glances around the room and notices that he’s by himself. He hasn’t made up his mind yet whether that’s a good or bad thing. Despite being alone, Peter very nearly cries out for the pain medication he’s sure Tony has at hand. His metabolism runs through painkillers faster than a normal body, but Mister Stark has experience in that department thanks to captain America, which is why Peter never wakes up in the medbay feeling sore.

He’s hoping to snatch some of the good stuff before he can sink away in sleep again, until a dark thought pops up in his head. What if Mister Stark purposefully didn’t give him enough medication so he wouldn’t stay asleep? What if Peter is expected to pay of his debt starting this very moment? It would make sense. Mister Stark is a man that likes to get a move on things, and this is probably no exception.

He bites back a loud whine. He’s so tired and sore, and if he could be anywhere in the world right now he’d choose the lakehouse and rest on the back porch, while looking over Morgan and ensuring she’s safe.

Still, it’s heaps better then what was waiting for him before, so Peter sucks in a deep breath and lifts himself up. He’s dresses in a hospital gown with socks on his feet, the only reprieve of the cold of the tiles that he has. His body fights in protest against the jolting movements, and Peter sinks back into bed three times before finally managing to stay upright. He swallows back bile, and blinks away the disorientation woozing its way through his head.

‘Friday’? He whispers, voice cracking on every syllable.

‘Yes, mister Parker, the AI replies easily, as chipper as a computer can possibly be. ‘It’s good to have you back,’ she adds, when Peter takes too long to reply. It’s not out of rudeness, but the words take a while to be processed in Peter’s hazy mind.

‘Can you tell me what Mister Stark wants me to do?’ Peter finally asks after coughing to clear his throat. Pride flows through his bloodstream when he manages to sound fine.

‘Mister Stark has not given me any directions, but by the distress and elevated heartbeat he experienced whilst at your bedside last, I hypothesize that he would like you to rest Peter.’  

Confusion laces Peter’s next move. Rest? But if that was the case why wasn’t the man here, ensuring that he does like all the other times he’s been in this position?  Deciding not to ask the AI anymore questions, while simultaneously ignoring her advice, Peter focuses on setting one foot in front of the other. If he can’t get a direct answer out of Friday, he’ll just get started on cleaning up in the lab.

The last few times Tony and Peter worked in there, Mister Stark had jokingly grumbled that the lace was getting to disorganized even for his taste, which definitely means something. Peter limps his way to the door, already breathing more heavily and deciding to take a rest against the still closed door. His foot throbs, so Peter switches to put the most weight on the side of his foot, instead of on the balm.

The small trek has left him bone tried, and the lab still seems so far away. Peter tries to calculate how far the lab still is, and agrees with himself to divide the length into smaller stretches. His next stop is at the elevator, so Peter shuffled along the floor, ignoring the black spots that dance before his eyes and threaten to have him collapse.

The extortion reminds him of the time that Toomes dropped a building on him, which is just plain ridiculous, this shouldn’t be half as tough. Peter scolds himself to man up when about halfway to the elevator he bumps into a cart and whimpers.

After finally finding support on the elevator beams, Peter allows himself a twenty second break to cry. At this point, the exact reason for crying is unbeknownst to him. All that he does know is that he feels like a mess, like someone took all the spiderman away from him and left him as a pile of uselessness. He shouldn’t have the right to complain however. Mister Stark rescued him from a fate much worse, the least he could do is help him out.

‘Friday’, Peter pauses to gulp in more air, and to force his tears back. ‘Open the elevator.’

‘Mister Parker I would advise-‘

‘Please’, he begs, voice barely louder then a whisper. The AI complies without further disagreement. The elevator begins to move the floor bellow it, soundlessly passing Peter along. The theme song, a little joke that Tony had installed after they made a song about spiderman, which plays during every elevator ride when Peter is present, stays off. The doors open, and Peter stumbles out, cheering up a dash when the mess doesn’t look as bad as he had imagined it. The clean up should be doable within two hours, even in Peter’s injured state. Most of the mess comes from scattered papers and documents that Tony tosses aside and never bothered to do anything with, and of mechanical parts that are ready to be thrown out.

All in all, not a lot of weight that Peter has to pick up. He has barely started on five pages when the elevator behind him opens again. Peter hadn’t noticed it going to a different floor in the first place.

Lister Stark burst out of the room like the devil himself is after him. He pauses for one second to observe what Peter’s doing -he’s in the middle of bending down at a very lateral pace- and then he’s off again, cursing under his breath.

‘Jesus Christ Peter what are you doing?’

He pulls out a rolling chair from behind his work bench and rushes it to Peter side. ‘Come on, sit.’ He says already clenching a hand around Peter’s bicep to guide him down. In his confusion, Peter follows his instruction.

‘Mister Stark?’ He questions, eyes tracking his mentors movement as if he’s afraid he’s done something wrong and punishment will follow.

There is none, all that Tony does, is fall down on his knees in front of Peter, so they’re making direct eye contact. Peter gulps at the sight. He’s sure those jeans cost more than half of what May ears a month, and if Peter is expected to repay those too, he’ll never be able to pay of his debt.

‘Kiddo, what are you doing?’ Mister Stark asks incredulous, his hand never leaving Peter’s arm. His eyes sweep over Peter’s form, noticing the ailments that he aggravated by walking all the way down here. ‘Why aren’t you in bed?’

‘I thought you wanted me to get started already.’ Peter admits shyly. He can’t understand why he’s being treated with such kindness all of a sudden.

‘Started on what Pete? I don’t understand.’ Mister Stark shuffles closer, one hand coming up to cup Peter’s chin, sweeping gentle circles that are meant to calm himself down as much as Peter.

‘Paying of my debt.’ Peter replies confused, wrapping his arms around his stomach area and bending downwards in an order to self sooth. He needs to get up soon, are Peter’ not sure he will be able to. Now that he’s granting his body some rest, the pain he forced to the back of his mind is rushing back in.

‘What debt kid, you need rest and you need it right now. Stay here, I’m going to go get you a gurney so you don’t require any more walking.’

Right as Mister Stark gets of his knees, Peter’s hand shoots out, gripping the older man’s wrist.  The action was pure habitual, but now that he’s initiated contact he doesn’t know what to do.

‘When will I have to start working then? I’d rather get started as soon as possible, to thank you for everything Mister Stark.’ Peter’s voice pitches even lower, letting his head hang down in shame. He really doesn’t want to offer his suit back, Spiderman is what gives him purpose, but the sooner he no longer has a debt, the sooner he can start working to provide May with an extra income as well. He has no choice.

‘I can give you the suit back if you’ll accept it.’

Tony regards him with perturbation for several long lasting moment. Then, he gasps, finally clicking in his head what Peter is going on about.

‘Oh kiddo, that’s the concussion speaking. Listen to me,’ he sinks back down in front Peter, taking his hand in his. ‘You have done so much for me. If anything it’s me that should be in debt to you.’ Peter pens his mouth to argue, but Tony hushes him softly.

‘You’re not thinking straight buddy, that why spider baby’s need their rest. But truly Peter, you don’t owe me anything. Well except maybe you owe it to  be safe, I think I’ve earned that much.’

‘Really?’ Peter asks optimistically, his whole body filling up with a feeling he can’t name, but it chokes him up until he’s bursting with the urge to give a hug to his mentor.

‘Yeah Peter of course. All I want is my kids to be safe.’

Kids. Tony sees Peter as his kid, as equal to Morgan. A person to love unconditionally without needing any favors, without having any debt. Of course Mister Stark won’t ask that of him, despite his front, the man has a heart that’s made of gold. Mister Stark, his mentor, and his father figure.

‘Dad,’ Peter sobs, almost falling out of the chair in his rush to get to Tony. The man immediately returns the hug, holding Peter up in a way that he hopes will be the least painful for him.

‘You’re okay Peter you’re okay.’

‘I’m so sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking’, Peter confesses, deeply ashamed of how low he thought of his dad.

‘It’s okay Kiddo, like I said it’s the concussion. Of course you were scared, I can’t blame you. I promise that I tried so hard to find you bud. I’m sorry it took me so long.’

Peter says nothing, he’s had enough encounters with Tony now to sense that the man wouldn’t believe him if Peter told him it’s okay. Instead he just nuzzles closer, accepting all the love and affection radiating from Tony, and giving back what he hopes is just as much.

‘Can we go back to the lakehouse?’ Peter asks softly, burring his head in Tony’s neck. It might be a weird question coming from him. He liked the beach house enough, but he has never actively asked to go there when they could stay at the tower as well. But now, Peter won’t feel safe unless his down there, in the cabin hidden behind threes, where the environment is quiet that he can hear everyone’s heartbeat, and can confirm that everyone is safe.

‘Sure kid.’ Tony responds, a tad bewildered, but happy to provide anyway. ‘We’ll leave as soon as you get check out okay. I want to make sure you didn’t rip anything.’

‘Okay’, Peter mumbles, a bone deep tiredness washing over him, and letting him sink down into Tony. ‘Thanks dad.’

If Peter were more awake, he would have noticed the silent tears of happiness streaming down Mister Starks cheek at the name. As it stands, Peter just hums contently when a kiss is pressed at the top of his head, and Tony strikes a hand through his hair.

‘Anything for my son.’

[nightowlfandom]

Keith (Voltron)- Heat Season

EDIT- I took off the “AU” part because I legit forgot what I was doing lol. No AU here

Hey hey! ANON ASKS

omg. can u do a keith x reader mating szn smut? like it’s his first heat so he locked himself away(f’s in the chat for keith) but the reader went to check on him not knowing a thing(gasp!). keith rlly do be rough at first bc he’s not thinkin straight but then becomes more ✨passionate✨ rough smut at first, then some tenderness(like my dino nuggets. lmao im 20), but then heated passionate smut. *chefs kiss* oui oui baggett

Keith from Voltron?....Cuz that’s what I’m doing for my mental health....And I’m going to hope and pray that’s what you wanted....cuz im doing it. Prepare your diddly hole....that sounded wrong. Hope you like it! 

BTW You caught me on an off day, but I didn’t wanna leave you hanging.

CHECKOUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Leggo!

...

You were confused as to why everyone had insisted you go check up on Keith. Then again the last thing you said to him before he locked himself in his room for 3 days was. 

“Wow, it’s so hot in here. I need to change out of these clothes.”

It was a throwaway comment that usually earned you a laugh or two from him. Only this time, it ended with him taking one look at you, and zooming off. Three whole days since then and it felt like you were the only one who wasn’t aware of what was going through his head.

So here you were, standing outside his door. You hesitated for a while, frozen in place.

“He’s your friend.” you declared. “You can do this!” you nodded with determination. You slowly raised your hand and knocked. 

“Fuck!” you heard on the other side. “W-Who’s there!”

“It’s me?” you answered, slowly becoming unsure. “Is it a bad time?”

“Y/N!” he grunted. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to check on you! P-please let me in.” you sighed. 

“Y/N! It isn’t safe for you to be here!” he sounded in pain.

“Keith! It’s either you let me in or I melt the door down!” you warned. "I have a lighter on me, don’t test whether or not I’m serious.”

Suddenly the door slid open. Without another thought you walked in. His room looked normal. “Keith?”

Just as you got in, the door slammed shut, making you jump. A shirtless Keith stumbled out of the bathroom. His face was completely red and he was sweating. Without a pause, you rushed over to him.

“Y/N!” Keith shuddered. “P-please don’t-”

“Keith!” you cut him off. “You’re burning up!” you put a hand on his forehead. For some reason, he leaned into your touch. He shuddered, his eyes glazing over slowly. This was a side of his you’ve never seen before.

It wasn’t long bore you managed to connect the dots. You couldn’t stop the blush from rising onto your face. “Oh.” was all you could say.

“Y/N...” he dropped to his knees. “I’m so sorry.” he whimpered. “It’s...t-too much.” he moaned. “I didn’t want to scare you.”

He rested his head against your stomach. “I want you so bad.” he cried. Like literally cried. “I c-can’t control it.” he whimpered.

“Keith? Why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you, I could’ve-.”

“The only reason I didn’t tell you was because in order to calm it down...I’d have to...have my way with the object of my aggression.” you could tell he was very ashamed. It then dawned on you what he meant when he said he wanted you.

“And...that’s me?” you clarified, voice shaking.

He buried his face into your stomach, tightening his grip around you. “Yes...”

“...Then do it.” you found yourself saying. This caused him to look up in surprise.

“You just made a big mistake, Y/N.” he glowered. A sadistic smile arose on his face. “You just opened yourself up to me.” he scrambled to his feet. Before you knew it, you felt your back hit the door. “Which means I can do whatever I want to you now.”

Keith grabbed a handful of your hair in his fist and bought your lips to his. You winced in pain, feeling him tighten his grip, as if he was scared to let you go. He must have detected this because he moved his hand to the side of your neck. 

Your body was flush against the wall and he was pressed against you, covering your body like a blanket. He yanked himself away from you and hoisted you up. 

Keith carried you to his bed and practically threw you on the plush surface. In that instant, the tables were flipped. Instead of looking up at you through hooded eyes with a shameful gaze, it was you who was now looking up at him.  Keith stared down at you with a glare. You probably looked ridiculous, but you didn’t care. 

“How do you want me?” you found yourself asking. 

“Fuck.” he whimpered. Just hearing you say that sent him crazy. He could smell sex coming off you, and he wanted to get his hands on you. His mouth, his dick, whatever he could touch you with. He could barely gather his thoughts. Every corner of his mind was occupied by visions of you, imagines, of you, thoughts of you. “Clothes...off...now.”

He didn’t wait for you, instead he ripped your shirt down the back, tearing it to shreds. He gently pushed on your chest, sending you down. Your back in the bed and you didn’t dare try and sit up.

“Is this a good time to mention I went commando today?” you asked aloud. Keith stopped everything he was doing and looked at you. He was expressionless. He didn’t say a word.

“...You’re not wearing any underwear?” he glowered.

“No?” you trailed off. “I didn’t do my laundry.” you admitted. 

The remained of your shirt fell in a pool around you. You and Keith had a stare-down, that glossy look returning to his eyes. He hooked his fingers around the hem of your pants and yanked them down. As expected, you were completely exposed to him. No undergarment in sight. Your smell filled his nostrils.

He instantly began fumbling with his pants, unable to control himself anymore. He could see that you were already excited down there and he was growing inpatient. 

He grabbed hold of your thighs and thrust himself into your tightness, earning a surprised moan from you. You felt better than he thought you would. You fit him perfectly, like a sheath built for a special type of sword. 

“Fu-...Ungh...-” He could barely make words as he pumped into your wetness. “Y/N.” he grunted. “You’re mine.” he growled. “Mine. If anyone else touches you after today, they’ll have me to answer to.” he croaked.

You were at a point where you couldn’t make any words, your body had reacted to him in a way where you felt like a slave to his touch. Was is pheromones? It was probably pheromones...you’d have to ask later.

“I wanna- I wanna kiss you.” Keith fought to speak as he slammed his hands on either side of your head. As promised, he lazily crashed his mouth over yours. His kiss was sloppy and lazily, his lips leaving a thin line of drool as he kissed down your neck. 

He rolled his hips against yours, groaning at each thrust. At this rate, he wouldn’t be able to last long. That didn’t stop him from speeding up. 

“Y/N.” he moaned again. With each sloppy thrust, his name left your lips, sounding more and more guttural before he spilled into you. He yanked his length out of your hole, splattering the entire front of your body in his cum. 

You looked like a pretty sight. You were officially marked by him. When you looked up, that hungry gaze was still strewn across his face. You noticed his eyes were still focused on your heat. His tongue darted out to lick his lips. 

He met your eyes for a split second before giving you a lewd smirk. He winked at you before scooting back to lay on his stomach. 

“K-keith. We just fin-ISHED.” you tried to say. Keith had attached his mouth to your sensitive bundle of nerves. 

“I know.” he stopped to speak for a bit. “I didn’t feel you cum for me though.”

“You can tell?!” you look down surprised. No, you didn’t fake it...but you didn’t think he would go this mile. 

“Of course I can fucking tell...you’re mine remember?” he giggled before lashing his mouth against you again. You could feel tears of pleasure welling up at the corners of your eyes. Your fists clenched the sheets under you.  It was like he had full control of you. You felt his fingers pump into you again, fucking his cum back into you. (I’m such a thot omg)

Your orgasm came like an avalanche. A mixture of loud cries and moans ripped through the air. Surely anyone who had been around could hear.

You were just worried about what would happen tomorrow.

...

“NOT A WORD!” you threateningly held up a butter knife to Lance not even three hours later.

“Just saying...I was on the other side of the-”

“SHUT UP!” you cut him off. 

“...Was he good though?”

“I said shut up!” you groaned, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment.

“I’m just saying...those hickeys aren’t gonna heal for a while.” he shrugged, laughing out loud as he walked away.

“Fuck me!” you seethed, trailing your fingers over your aching skin.

“What was that?” Keith seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You dropped the butter knife, feeling his broad chest up against your back. “Did you say to-”

“In the kitchen though?!” you squeaked. “Bad dog! Very bad!” you whimpered, melting into his touch anyways.

“Don’t worry, it only lasts a week.” he giggled in your ear.

A week...lord help you.

“Maybe longer if I like you enough.”

....Fuck

[youbloodymadgenius]

Angel’s Touch (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This is my long overdue contribution to @rosepetals-flyingbirds‘ challenge. I’m sorry it took me so long, babe 💖 I’ve been going through a lot lately (including the loss of a loved one) and I wasn’t in the mood to write 😔

The prompt, as usual, is in bold.

Thanks to the lovely @geekandbooknerd for beta reading this for me 🌺

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

The gif belongs to @therealcalicali 💐

Summary: Ivar's always been very secretive when it comes to his legs. How is he going to react when you tell him you want to know all of him?

Warnings: angst; fluff at the end; Ivar’s insecurities; soft and vulnerable Ivar.

Words: 4600

"I'm coming!" you shout enthusiastically, wrapping a soft towel around your body before closing the bathroom door behind you. 

 Wincing at your words, Ivar hastily hides his legs under the comforter. "That was a close one…", he mumbles while breathing a sigh of relief. Deep down, he knows he's not doing the right thing. Avoiding the problem will not make it go away.

 He can't help himself, though. He still has nightmares about that awful night with Margrethe. It was years ago, yet memories of her disgusted look as well as her eyes full of pity still haunt his nights, vivid and humiliating. 

He doesn't want to go through that again. It would be unbearable and painful, much worse than the dull ache he's used to enduring every day. No, he definitely can't relive it. Shuddering at this thought, Ivar squeezes his eyes shut and clenches his fists tight. 

 He won't allow it. He can't. Because he's not sure he can get over it again. After Margrethe, he had been broken – more broken than his broken bones – for so long. It had taken him years of therapy to stop being disgusted by himself, to stop hating himself for what he was. A freak. It had taken him years to endure looking at himself in a mirror. And it had taken him years to imagine sharing a bed with a woman again. 

 Oh, of course, he had fucked every so often. He needed it after the complete fiasco with Margrethe. He had to prove himself that he could… But it had always been in a hurry, and with random, uninteresting women. Till you…

 You. You're not random, and definitely not uninteresting. You're beautiful and smart, patient and funny, warmhearted and caring but never overbearing. You're… perfect, he thinks, and it scares him as much as it makes him shiver with excitement. On top of that, so far you don't seem bothered by his legs and he wants to keep it that way. 

 His legs. His fucking legs. The averted elephant in the room. Well, averted… more or less. Because if you've never seen them, you know the braces, the crutches, the uneven gait and he's pretty sure you've figured out his pain. But you two never talk about them. He knows that you understood from the beginning that they were, they are a major issue for him. You're smart enough for that. 

 Yet, you never bring them up and he couldn't be more grateful. He's very aware that he can't keep going like this for long. But he doesn't know how to address what is, to him, a huge matter of concern. He's afraid you'll go away as soon as you realize how damaged his legs are, how crippled he really is. He doesn't want to lose you. He can't. That would be insufferable. And he knows exactly why. It's not just that he likes you, that sex is great, and that you're fun to be around, no… He's helplessly falling in love with you. It may be terrifying, but it's no less true.

 That's why he does what he does. That's why he's always hurrying up, hiding, avoiding. It doesn't matter if it leads sometimes to awkward situations. It doesn't matter if you're not fooled. All that matters is that you don't see his legs; not for a long time anyway; and most preferably never.

 Inhaling deeply, Ivar slips his hands under the comforter, rubs his scrawny, bony, twisted thighs, feeling their scarred skin and grunting in disgust. He knows he's wrong, he knows he's not going anywhere, but he can't help. He can't risk losing you. 

 ***

 More sad than irritated, you hardly stifle a sigh as you enter the room. Once again, Ivar is unsurprisingly already in bed, his fluffy comforter keeping his legs out of sight. 

 His legs… A fucking huge elephant in the room… It's amazing – not in a good way – how something that's never addressed can take up so much space.  

 The truth is, you know a lot about them. Being a son of Ragnar, the man who rules Scandinavia – at least economically but surely politically too, with friends in the right places and enough money to corrupt them – didn't allow Ivar to grow up in the shadow. Ivar's life therefore has always been on display, making headlines more often than not. So you know about his disease and its inherent struggles, about the surgeries and about the pain – well, now you even witness it sometimes, and the way he always tries to hide it is heartwrenching. 

 You know more than you'd like to since you even know about his supposed failing sex life, that bitch whose name you've long forgotten having told her story to everyone around. It doesn't matter though, as you can testify that Ivar's cock is far from dysfunctional. 

 Anyway, if you know a lot – truths or lies – about his condition and about his legs, you don't know them. And you're aware it has to change. You just don't know how. You can't be too straightforward or Ivar will close up on you. Yet you can't let things go on like this for too long, because it's unhealthy. And an unhealthy relationship with Ivar is the last thing you want, both for his and your sake. 

 Somehow always in your mind, his legs make things awkward. Sex is great, but could even be better, for they prevent you from being spontaneous. The last thing you want is to make Ivar, the man you're falling in love with, uncomfortable. So, you don't speak about them because you can feel he doesn't want to speak about them. You don't look at them because his tight jaw is unmistakable each time your eyes wander to his lower body. You do your best never to touch them, which isn't easy when you share his bed. In short, most of the time you act as if they don't exist. And this has got to stop. 

 You can't let this unspoken thing continue to grow between the two of you or it will end up becoming a problem that will eat you up, you do know it with utmost certainty. You won't allow it. You can't. Ivar is important to you, to say the least, and you're pretty sure he reciprocates your feelings. You see it in his huge blue eyes that sparkle each time he looks at you; you hear it in the softness of his tone each time he talks to you. 

 So yeah, the whole situation annoys you. It doesn't mean that his legs annoy you. They don't. You won't lie, you're a little nervous about them. How could you not, given how sensitive a subject they are? Will you say the right thing? Do the right thing? Will you hurt Ivar unwillingly? Just thinking about it, about them, makes you feel like you're walking on eggshells. Ivar is being very touchy when it comes to them, to those-legs-we-mustn't-talk-about, it seems to you that the slightest word could ruin everything. And you don't want that. Gods, you don't. Yet, you're not sure how to handle well something that important.

  That's the point. His legs are that important. They shouldn't be. They shouldn't matter. They don't matter. Of course, you're not stupid. Ivar has a disability, there's no denying it. But it doesn't define him, right? What defines him is his outstanding intelligence, his sharp mind, and his deadpan, ironic humour. And well, if you're being honest, his ridiculous handsomeness too… It might sound shallow, but… who cares?  

 Anyway, enough is enough. Things must change and you're sure Ivar won't be the one initiating the change. It leaves you no choice, you know it. Your heart hammering in your chest, you rub your sweaty palms together before inhaling deeply. That's it. Let it be done. The sooner the better.  

 ***

 "Are you not coming?" Ivar's blue eyes are scrutinizing you from under furrowed brows as you scrabble around in your small overnight bag, as an idea has just popped into your head.

 Glancing at him over your shoulder, you barely nod while swallowing the lump in your throat. "Of course I am, give me a minute." You reply after a while, sounding more confident than you feel. But you know it's a good idea. It could be the first step. It could work. It has to work. 

 Your hands are shaking but your heart is filled with hope when you eventually find what you were looking for. "Here it is.", you mutter, a tentative smile playing on your lips as you turn towards your lover, who looks at the silk scarf in your hand with a mischievous grin. 

 "What is it on your naughty mind?" He asks playfully, tilting his head in his very own way, the one that melts your heart each and every time. "You want to blindfold me, Y/N?" His low, deep voice sends shivers down your spine. "Or maybe you'd rather be blindfolded? It's up to you, I'm totally on board with either one." He swallows heavily, and when he licks his upper lip and then the lower in a slow-moving and sensual motion, a familiar warmth spreads in your lower belly. 

  Of course, he had to misread the situation. And you, you're so easily, pathetically flustered! Closing your eyes to push away any distracting thoughts, you inhale deeply while just shaking your head no as you don't trust yourself to speak right now. 

 Raising a brow, Ivar gives you a questioning look. "So, what is it about, then?" His tone is more serious now, you can almost feel a hint of uneasiness in his voice as if a part of his brain already suspects what's in your mind. 

 "Actually, I want to be blindfolded, but not to do what you're thinking about." You explain, shyly lowering your gaze. "I'd like to try something." You speak in a whisper but with honesty, fidgeting with the little silver Mjölnir – a gift from Ivar – you wear around your neck. "If it's okay with you." You add, your shaky voice giving away your nervousness. 

 Confused, Ivar looks at you with knitted brows. Since you don't want to explain further – because you're sure that if you told him of your plan, he would deny you – you just climb on the bed, kneel next to him and bring the scarf to your face, wrapping it around your head and over your eyes before tying it in the back with a tight knot. 

 Being blinded like that, even if it's of your own volition, is quite unsettling, you must say. You feel weirdly exposed, vulnerable, in your tiny shorts and a tank top and you have to inhale and exhale slowly several times in order to calm your nerves. 

 Uncertain, Ivar keeps quiet, his breathing just a little bit shorter than usual. "Y/N?" His hesitant voice startles you and you swallow, biting your inner cheek. 

 You know you have to take action, the sooner the better. So you fumble blindly on the bed and as you find Ivar's hand, you bring it to your mouth, kissing each knuckle one after the other while your free hand slips under the comforter. 

 His breath hitches, yet Ivar doesn't react, doesn't stop you, as you slowly lift the comforter, pulling it away. But when your fingers graze what you think is his thigh, he grabs your wrist, wrapping his fingers around it. 

 "What…" Ivar stutters, his grip tight enough to bruise your delicate skin, "… What are you doing, Y/N?" His voice, barely audible, is nothing more than a shaky whisper that wrings your heart. 

 Yet, you won't back down. "Let me, Ivar, please…" You beg softly, but to no avail. Ivar rushes his words, panic coursing through his veins. "Stop Y/N! Don't, please don't, I… They are… They are ugly. I… I can't." That's it. He can't. Just thinking of you exposing his disgusting legs, he feels like throwing up. He can't. 

 Hearing your lover so upset, and maybe even close to tears, is heartbreaking. Raising your free hand, you find his arm, then his shoulder, his neck, and finally his face, which you cup tenderly. 

 "You do know I won't see them, don't you?" You ask carefully, peppering light kisses along his jaw while trying to slow down the frantic pace of your own heart. 

 Ivar doesn't miss a beat, pushing you away gently but very firmly. "You don't need your sight to feel how hideous they are." Almost convinced to give up by his broken voice, you struggle to keep in mind that postponing the problem can't be a solution. 

 "That's what you think about them, how you see them, Ivar, that's not what they are." Your tone soft and soothing, you're trying to convey how much you care. "And it's certainly not how I'm going to see or to feel them."

 "How would you know?" You can tell that he shifts in the bed to sit upright, his back against the headboard. His fingers still around your wrist, you have to stifle a hiss of pain when he changes position. 

 "Because they are a part of you. Nothing from you, or about you, can be ugly." You wince, realizing that you've just opened up to him more than you would have liked. But well, speaking your mind isn't a bad thing, right? 

 As Ivar, dumbstruck, keeps quiet, you decide to strike the iron while it's hot. Once again finding his cheek, your thumb lightly strokes it while you speak. "Let me touch them, Ivar…"

 You know him well enough to be sure that right now, a storm is clouding his features. But as his breathing starts to quicken and as his grip on your wrist loosens, you understand that he's more frightened than angry. "Please…" You plead, aiming blindly a reassuring smile in his direction. 

 "But… Wh… Why?" He's never felt so scared, not even with Margrethe. Even if the rational part of him knows you're right, he won't give up yet, not without fighting. "Why… Why does it have to be? You don't need to touch those fucking…", swallowing, he closes his eyes briefly, "… you don't need to touch my legs, Y/N. You don't. We could just go on like this, as we have done up to now. Believe me, it will be better like that."

 "No, it won't." You sigh, shaking your head. Ivar's distress may break your heart, yet you're more and more convinced that this is the right thing to do. "Let me touch them, Ivar, please…" You simply repeat, your free hand still on his cheek.

 "Why… Why is it so important to you?" As soon as the words escape his lips, he regrets them, wishes he could take them back. He should have said no. Why didn't he say no? Slapping himself internally, he rolls his eyes, annoyed as much by his own stupidity as by your stubbornness. 

 You answer in a sweet whisper, placing your hand on his chest. He's sure you can feel the crazy thumping of his heart under your palm. "Because your legs are a part of you, and I want to know everything about you. Will you let me, Ivar?"

 Ivar, deeply moved by your words, is eager to believe them. But on the other hand, it's so… frightening; unsettling. Not used to being so vulnerable in front of someone, he feels like he's being ripped apart, and gods, he hates it! "I… I don't know… I'm… not sure…" He eventually stammers almost unwillingly, more or less denying you once more, yet his resolution starts to falter, and he knows you can hear it. 

 Even more surprising, it's as if his body betrayed him, his fingers finally releasing your wrist. As you gasp, astonished and pleased, he ponders for a few moments before deciding – if deciding something against what seems to be your own will is even a thing – he won't stop you. He knows he could, but he also knows you're right. So, conflicted and petrified with fear, he just waves his hand, wiggling his fingers, and mumbles under his breath a faint "go ahead" that you almost miss.

 "Is that a 'yes', Ivar?" Full of hope and with what you're sure is a beaming smile on your lips, you intertwine your fidgeting fingers and put your hands on your lap, anxiously awaiting his reply. 

 His jaw clenched, Ivar just nods. At first, he doesn't realize that you can't see him. As the silence drags on, he furrows his brows, confused, before breathing a hesitant answer. "Yeahhh…" Digging his fingernails into his palms, he waits for your next move, almost like someone awaiting a death sentence.

 Sensing his anxiousness, you raise your hands and then move them very slowly, willing to give Ivar time to stop you if he needs to. Since he doesn't utter a word nor grab your wrists, you keep going, your fingers grazing what surely is his lower belly before finding the hem of his cotton boxer shorts. 

 Intensely aware of the importance of the moment, you can't help but swallow loudly, your stomach tied in knots. You started all this, and even if you're still not sure if it's the right time – will there ever be a right time for this? – you have to keep going. But you're scared. What if it'll push Ivar over the edge? What if it is too much for him? What if you won't handle this as well as you think you will? You don't want to lose him. Your mind suddenly filled with doubts, you do the only thing you can think of, and send a silent prayer to the gods, hoping they can help the two of you. 

 Holding his breath, Ivar looks at your hands as if he was hypnotized. His eyes wide open, he can't move, can't speak, utterly terrified of what is to come. He knows he should trust you. Maybe he does. But he doesn't trust himself. No, that's not true. Most of the time, Ivar doesn't lack self-confidence. He knows his worth. He's aware of the strength of his intelligence, his cunning. He knows about his good looks – even if they're quite useless; or about his highly appreciated caustic humour. And as he's no fool, he knows that being a Ragnarsson – name, wealth, all the stuff – is a major asset. Yet, when it comes to his legs, he's nothing more than a frightened little boy, so anxious that he's ready to fall apart. Feeling ashamed, self-conscious, and helpless, he's wondering how much tenser he can become until he physically shatters. Conflicted, he wants you to stop as well as he wants you to keep going. This has to be done. This should never be done. He's in love with you. You will never love him. You won't hurt him. He'll be hurt once again. Hectic, opposing thoughts are constantly fighting in his mind, leaving him frozen in fear and panicked. So, since he can't think straight, he does the only thing he can think of and sends a silent prayer to the gods. May they help him; help you. 

 Uselessly closing your eyes behind the blindfold, you gather your strength. Ivar didn't stop you. That's good. That means he wants you to do it, right? Inhaling deeply, you try to stop the shaking in your hands, and then, slightly leaning forward, you let your fingertips run over his thighs, barely touching them. You forget how to breathe and Ivar is so still, so quiet, you think he's not breathing either. 

 As you become bolder, you place the flat of your hands on his legs, careful not to apply any pressure. Under your palms, you can feel every bump, every scar, every broken bone. Your movements intentionally agonizingly slow, your hands move down to his protruding knee caps before finding his atrophied calves, their wasted muscles evident to the touch. You can't think how painful walking, or even just standing up, must be. The thought spreads a dull ache in your chest, but you keep your face emotionless, aware that if you can't see him, Ivar can see you. Rather than dwelling on it, you continue exploring, and when your fingers brush against the sole of one of his misshaped, scrawny feet, Ivar flinches. "Sorry," you mumble, "I didn't know you were ticklish." Since Ivar doesn't react, you're not sure he heard you and decide to slowly move your hands up his legs, placing them back on his bony thighs. 

 Keeping his eyes on you the whole time, Ivar struggles to breathe, his heart pounding wildly in his rib cage. He's surprised, he must say. He expected to see disgust or pity on your face, but there's none of that. Of course, he can't see your eyes, but a small smile never leaves your lips. Could it be that you're not disgusted? In any case, you don't seem troubled by what you're feeling. Maybe you're hiding it, but if so, you're hiding it well. He's also surprised because he expected to hate every moment of the process. Himself, he's all the time trying to avoid touching his legs. He hates PT sessions and doctor's appointments with a passion for a reason. But your touch is… enjoyable if he can push away all his doubts and his awful thoughts. It strikes him all of a sudden: it's probably the first time someone touches his legs for no reason at all. They were regularly massaged, checked for injuries, examined, palpated; of course, they were. But there was always a medical reason. Even when his mother touched them, it was to ease the pain. But you… you decided to touch his ugly limbs just because you wanted to. And just now, he realizes how much he missed that. Can he really miss something he's never known? He's not sure, but here he is, enjoying your featherlike touch, craving it, not wanting it to stop. Yes, he likes it; needs it. But what if, after tonight, you don't want to touch them again? He wouldn't blame you, who would want to touch such repulsive things? The thought brings bile to his throat and he knows it won't stop plaguing his mind. So he has to know, whatever it takes. Moving for the first time, he runs a trembling hand through his hair and summons all his courage.

 "You… you didn't say a word." His quivering voice startles you, making your heart swell with sadness. You don't need your eyes to know that Ivar is filled with dread. The need to reassure him compels you to blindly fumble on the bed until you find his hand, which you grasp between yours. "What do you want me to say?" You ask cautiously, your thumb lightly stroking his knuckles. 

 You can feel Ivar stiffening, his fingernails probably bruising your palms as he lets out a shuddering breath. "I…" He stops to swallow. "The… truth, Y/N. Go ahead, speak your mind. You… you touched…" He stutters, and you're willing to bet his eyes are tightly shut, his tone giving away his level of anxiety. "… you touched them. My legs, I mean. I know… I know how they feel, ugly and disgusting… no need to sugarcoat your thoughts… I… I can handle the truth…" His voice cracks at the end, contradicting his words.

 Releasing his hand, you graze his right thigh with gentle fingers. "No, Ivar", you speak softly yet firmly, "that's not how they feel, at least not to me." You know you have to be honest, you can't just say nonsensical, lovey-dovey things, he won't buy it. "I won't tell you they feel beautiful. They don't." Choosing your words carefully, you let your pointer finger follow a massive scar from his mid-thigh to his knee. "They feel different, and yes, you can feel the scars. It must have been painful, it's probably still is. But I promise you, they're not disgusting. They're your legs. They say a lot, Ivar. They're telling a story, your story. That's why I wanted to know them because as I said earlier, I want to know all about you. And they are part of you. I do think they finally deserve to be cared about, to be loved. Let me love them…" You whisper the last words, feeling vulnerable. 'Let me love you…' is what you want to add, but you know you can't, not yet, so instead you lean forward, your lips brushing and then kissing his thigh.

 Something between a whine and a choked sob escapes his lips and you can hear his breath hitch as his hand gets up close to your neck. "Did I hurt you?" You ask with concern, frowning behind the blindfold. 

 Ivar can't help but smile, even if you can't see it. "No!" he replies quickly, his hand now on the back of your head. "I wasn't expecting that, the kiss I mean, but I… liked it." He explains shyly, surprised by his own words. "Actually, I loved it." He's not lying. He loved the kiss, he loved your words; it's as if a tremendous weight had just been lifted off of him. Part of him tells him not to believe everything you said, but he decides not to. He didn't hear any malice or mischief in your voice. He knows you were being genuine. That's why, choosing to chase the disbelief away, he decides to trust you completely. And that's why, suddenly, without warning, he pulls off the blindfold.

 "What are you doing, Ivar?" You squeak, immediately closing your eyes and picking up the comforter. But as you intend to cover his legs, Ivar grabs your wrists with both hands. "Just leave it where it is." He retorts before letting out a heavy sigh. "And open your eyes."

 You do as you're told, but keep your eyes on his face. There are tears in his eyes and a whirlwind of emotions. "Just look at them, Y/N." He almost commands you, but you know that's a way to hide his true feelings behind bravado. 

 Blinking a few times and scrunching your face, you tilt your head to the side, scrutinizing him. "Are you sure?"

 Your lover just shrugs, biting his lower lip. "Will I ever be?" Taking a deep breath, he adds in a murmur. "But I trust you."

 ***

 Later that night, as you're sound asleep, your head on his chest and his arm around your waist, Ivar can't get sleep, amazed that you didn't run away. He keeps replaying what you did when you saw his legs. You had just smiled. And kissed them one more time. And then thanked him for trusting you, for allowing you to love them. Moved and overwhelmed, he could see the matching tears in your eyes, but no sadness on your face. What he saw instead was relief, and care, and… love? 

 Kissing your head, he mumbles. "It is I who should be thanking you. I don't know what I did to deserve someone like you, but whatever it was, I'm glad. If angels are real, you're mine. I won't let you go, Y/N, never ever." 

 "I love you…" He finally whispers, taking advantage of your slumber. Well, little does he know you're awake but staying perfectly still. You know you weren't meant to hear those three words, not yet. And it doesn't matter. You can wait. You and Ivar have a lifetime to love each other. 

 All of him. All of you. 

🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​

[twinklelilstarkey]

Stopping You [Part 10] - Michael Gray

Words: 8.9k+

Summary: Y/N’s recovery from both her feelings and her wound takes a step back after a specific night.

Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of wounds, a lot of blood, death and night terrors. Emotional cheating. Self-hate (discrediting their own sadness and feelings; hateful inner voice).

Prologue    Part 1    Part 2    Part 3    Part 4    Part 5     Part 6    Part 7   Part 8    Part 9    Part 10    Part 11

It has been a total of 24 hours.

Yesterday was a bad day. Both mentally and physically.

Polly tried her best into bringing your mood up, which worked in some way. She eased your mind by telling you that what you were feeling is completely normal, but as soon as you were alone, it was like the whole world was crashing on you.

Over crying so much as hateful questions filled your mind, you were sore at the end of the night. You contracted your muscles so much while sobbing that you could feel your wound pulsate against your skin in pain.

You questioned almost everything about your life before and after Michael left and when he reappeared. Things have changed, not just around his family, but also around you. And that seems to be one of the most confusing matters.

You never cared too much about this, but you can’t help but think about how so many things have changed since Michael came back. From your behaviors to how you function. Everything has changed in some way.

You’ve always suffered with night terrors in your life, ever since your parents left, but they were almost never about Michael. The exception being when the whole Italian/New York mafia situation went down, and Michael got injured. But other than that, it was always you, or anybody else close, that would die.

Never Michael.

You want to know what could’ve possibly awaken those thoughts and that part of your brain that makes you think like that. Could it be because you now connect him to something bad in your life? Or that when he came back, he had-

No, you’re not going there. It’s useless. It will cost you nothing pain, and it won’t grant you any answers. Might as well push that away and live your life.

Or at least try.

You bring your hot mug back to your lips and take another sip of your tea, letting your eyes fall to the ground.

Polly believes you could talk to him. Tell him about how you’ve been feeling lately. But, honestly, for what? To say that you’re falling right back in love with him just to later be thrown in the face that he does not love or feel anything for you anymore.

He. Is. Getting. Married.

It would just be simply ridiculous to do such a thing.

He doesn’t feel anything for you and that’s okay. All he feels is pity and maybe he got a little scared over you being shot, but that’s it. There are no feelings attached, no romance. No nothing. Just simply… a connection through pain, which awoke lost and forbidden memories.

Maybe this could just be your pride talking over your heart but, you just can’t believe that you’re letting yourself fall so easily. After so long of crying over him and overworking yourself to become a Peaky Blinder and just- not worry about anything in your demolished love life. All of it going to the trash because… You caught feelings for him again?

It’s disappointing to say the least.

Today, you awoke as soon as the sun made its way into the living room and since then, you haven’t done much. You walked back to your room after getting yourself a warm drink and sat by the window staring at the green grass of the neighbors’ house like it’s the most entertaining thing in the world.

A book is resting beside you. You have read a few good pages, but you can’t bring yourself to read more than 20 at a time.

Your mind is too heavy.

Voices coming from downstairs make you look away from the window and up to your door. You try your best to identify them as soon as you find them familiar.

You can hear voices and the laugher of Lizzie and Arthur. Which is awfully strange.

You scowl at the sound, and the soft patter of quick feet running around the house squeezes your heart. The kids are here too.

You rise from your seat and walk across your bedroom to the door. You open it softly and the sound of everyone’s voices is now louder. Confusion is the most prominent emotion you can feel right now, but you can’t help but welcome it better than any other one you’ve been feeling lately.

While walking down the main stairs silently, a soft gasp is heard over the loud voices. Ruby’s.

You smile at her as she spots you walking down the stairs and she quickly let’s go of her mother’s hand to run towards you.

As you’re distracted swallowing down the jab of pain at your middle while leaning down to grab her, Polly’s eyes meet you. The smile in your face is almost like a warm hug in the winter. She could get used to this sight forever.

“Look who came back from war,” Ada jokes as she spots you.

She walks towards you and her arms wrap around you as soon as you’re close enough. You lean towards her, even with Ruby on your hip, and she squeezes you in closer.

“I was so worried,” She tells you, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

You pull away from the hug with a small smile and she gives you a wide one in return. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her. She had left back for London not long before the whole event happened. You honestly didn’t expect to see her this soon.

As Ada moves back, everyone’s attention goes over to you. Everyone, or at least, almost everyone pulls you into a hug, sharing their words of how grateful they are from knowing that you’re still breathing.

You know they had visited you back at the hospital when you were still asleep, but nothing compares to actually seeing you move like nothing had happened. Arthur’s words, not yours.

Talking about Arthur. He was awfully apologetic while you two hugged it out. You believe he must have blamed himself for what happened, but you were quick to take that idea off his head.

You’re not about to see anybody else beating themselves for something out of their reach.  Unless that’s you, of course.

Tommy and Arthur, not even 20 minutes into stepping in Polly’s home, excuse themselves and leave off to work.

The crowd in the living room doesn’t consist in much more people. Both Ada and Lizzie, and of course the kids, stayed behind and took a seat on the couch. The kids surrounded you as soon as you all sat down, while the women in front of you were distracted on talking about whatever, or rather, whoever worth of gossiping.

You listen to some of their words while being continuously pulled into conversation by Charlie as you let Ruby sit next to you, leaning to your side.

Karl is sitting closer to his mother, but looking at you and joining the conversations, nonetheless.

“What about you, Y/N?” Ada asks as she sips her tea.

“What about me?” You ask confused, obviously having no clue on what she’s on about.

“We were talking about weddings,” Lizzie explains, “Sharing our opinions on what is the best wedding. And Ada asked if you have anyone in your mind as your future husband?”

Her tone is playful more than anything. Both Lizzie and Ada expect a disgusted scowl or a roll of your eyes as an answer, but Polly can’t help but tense up against her seat at the question.

As innocent as this conversation was, it was more than powerful to push you back into your inner darkness.

“Not that I know of.” You answer, trying to mimic Lizzie’s tone.

“Oh, come on. You don’t find any man attractive?” Ada asks, putting her cup down beside her, “Not even one?”

You shake your head slowly and she stares at you with half closed eyes, almost as if she has a suspicion of some sort about your feelings towards any male presences.

“There has to be someone,” Lizzie agrees with Ada, “It’s been… what? 3 years?”

You shrug, fighting your urge to correct her since it won’t do you any justice, and the two women share a look as Polly watches all the action unfold.

“What about Finn?”

Oh god, you almost gagged right here.

Ada laughs under her breath at your disgusted yet shocked look and shakes her thoughts of that couple even be slightly real, away.

“God.” Polly scoffs out loud, making every woman rip a slight smile.

“What’s so wrong about my baby brother?” Polly asks, hands over her hips, playful grin on her face.

“Nothing is wrong,” Polly explains, “They would just be the most chaotic couple to existence. Can you imagine?”

You chuckle at her words and shake your head.

“They would burn down the church right at their wedding,” Polly jokes making both Lizzie and Ada laugh, “Probably even when saying their vows.”

There’re a few seconds of silence as the women let their giggles die down.

“Where is Finn?” Lizzie asks curious.

“Oh, Tommy has been making the boy work double the shifts now, for some reason.” Polly answers, “I don’t understand why, but they changed a lot of his shifts since their last meeting.”

“There was a meeting?” You ask confused.

Polly looks over at you.

“Yes, there was. It was only between Tommy and some of the men.” She answers with a short nod, “Nothing too important was talked about, I’m sure.”

You nod at her a little bit unsure and Charlie is quick to grab your attention back to him. He pulls you by your sleeve to look at him and he starts showing you his new toy horse, again.

You feel like you’ve seen that horse a thousand times, now.

Another conversation restarts between the women and you lean back on the couch, letting Ruby continue to play with your gold necklaces as Charlie talks his heart out about the horse that his dad gave him.

Your mind is constantly somewhere else. But this time, it focused on work. Mainly, on what the meeting could’ve possibly been about. As if any meeting with just the men was ‘not important’. They always have the most interesting meetings.

And with that train of thought, hours go by.

You were so distracted by listening to the women beside you laugh and talk, or just with looking down at the kids, that you didn’t even notice the time pass.

Your mind is still on that damned meeting, but you don’t let it get the best of you. You’re sure that the information will eventually reach you. In one way or another.

Three knocks are heard from the front door, and only Polly stands to open it. Nobody thinks too much of it. Everyone knew that eventually someone would come and pick up Ada, Lizzie and the kids.

It’s soon to be dark out, they must be almost leaving now.

“I’m sorry that we’re late.” A familiar voice sounds from the door.

Ada freezes and at the same time she looks up at you, you look up at the door. Not even 5 seconds later, Michael enters the house, followed by, of course, Gina. His blue eyes travel to the couch in the living room, and as he finds you, you’re already looking down at Charlie.

Your hand rests against Charlies’ head, smoothing his soft hair between your fingers, detangling it softly.

He forces his gaze to go back to the blonde behind him and his mother closes the front door behind them.

“Go sit. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go make more tea.” Polly says, voice strong, not as soft as it was previously.

Ada’s and Lizzie’s eyes stay on both Michael and Gina as the couple stands in silence. They don’t find the women’s gaze as nothing more than their way to look at guests before exchanging some welcoming words, so, the tense air and shock just came unnoticed.

“Oh, hi Michael” Ada says, standing on her feet. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”

She gives her cousin a quick hug, in which he hugs back, but her eyes quickly fall on the blonde.

“And who are you?” Ada asks softly.

“Michael’s fiancée, Gina” She says with her American accent, extending her hand towards the other family member she hasn’t heard of before.

Ada shakes her hand, feeling slightly confused and shocked with her words, but, just like anyone else in this room, she’s quick to hide her emotions.

“Please, sit. I don’t want you standing all night.” Polly says to the new guests, from the kitchen door.

Michael is the first one to move towards the couches. You don’t dare to look up at him and he notices, fighting his own urge to start a conversation.

Your heart quickens the closer he gets to you and Charlie looks up at him, probably recognizing his face somewhere.

“Charlie, honey, scoot over a little.” Lizzie tells the boy.

The boy in front of you nods in response and takes his eyes off Michael. He stands on the couch and carefully steps over your lap and sits on your other side, by the arm of the couch.

Michael takes his seat next to you and you hold in your breath as your arms rest completely against one another. Lizzie moves a bit to the side and Gina sits beside her fiancée, who has his attention somewhere else.

“How are you?” Michael whispers down at you and you still don’t look up.

“Good.”

Your tone is cold and distant, which he finds extremely strange and awfully uncomfortable.

The couch is surely not large enough for 4 people, but you and Michael are having it worse than anyone else seated down on it. Lizzie and Gina have at least a few inches between themselves, while you and Michael are almost completely leaning against one another, trapped between Gina and Charlie.

Michael’s hands rest over his lap as he hears the awfully awkward conversation between the women start, not finding it at all surprising that you are paying them no absolute attention.

Ruby lets go of your necklaces for the first time and looks down at your hands.

They’re slightly sweaty over the presence of the man beside you but she pays them no mind, grabbing onto them as she eyes the expensive jewelry, surely something she loves a lot about you.

Polly comes back not too long after, and she’s quick to serve everyone another cup of tea.

You refuse any more, since you feel like you’ve already drank too much and explode your own bladder if you keep on going. And as your hand lifts to dismiss the tea from Polly, Ruby catches it.

You smile a bit at her and Michael grins slightly at the sight of the small girl being so interested in your hand. You let her twist the rings on your fingers and her gaze moves up at Michael.

His grin seems awfully contagious to her since she ends up smiling shyly at him as she continues to hold your hand up. As they do their staring contest, you look over at Charlie, who entertains himself and his mind with his new, and very loved, horse.

You sigh softly as your heart continues to beat quickly against your rib cage and you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re anxious about Michael or is it just his presence that is making you react like this.

“Have you taken your pain meds?” Polly asks.

You look up quickly as you notice that the question must be for you and a shiver runs past you as everyone’s eyes fall on you, even Gina’s.

“I will when I go to sleep.”

She gives you a disapproving look and you give her a grin in return.

“It helps me sleep.” You justify, and she sits back in her chair.

Michael grins at the exchange of words and your stubbornness and Ada notices it before continuing with her conversation.

Ruby rests your palm against hers and starts comparing both sizes.

You chuckle at her and as your body jumps at the laugh beside Michael, he looks down at Ruby to see what made you react. The small girl looks up when sensing his eyes on her and as Gina joins the conversation between the other women, Ruby extends her other hand at Michael, holding it upright.

He looks at her confused and you notice.

“She wants to compare your hand to hers.” You explain in a low whisper.

He takes his hand from his lap and extends it to her. His hands are surely bigger than yours, and that seemed to shock the small girl.

You smile as she lays her hand over his with widen eyes and Polly looks up from her tea at you, mind still on the conversation she started.

Her heart swells up at the sight. You and Michael smiling down at the girl sitting on your lap as she holds your hands up and compares them to hers. She can’t hear what you say over the loud voices and from being across the room, but she sees you saying something to Ruby, making her nod.

Michael’s smile widens at the small girl and you look up at him quickly, stealing a look before you get caught, which you don’t, not by him at least. Polly surely did, but she doesn’t say or do anything.

It’s so obvious that you still feel something for him, at least for her. But Michael seems to be unreadable, sometimes. It’s hard to figure anything out.

Gina stares at Polly while grinning at what Ada says and finds her staring at her son, she follows her gaze and clenches her jaw. The urge to roll her eyes feels stronger than her, but her bottled up rage triples at sight of you smiling.

Ruby takes her hands off yours quickly, shyly putting them close to her chest. You continue to smile down at her and as you and Michael try to retreat your own hands, she holds on to them.

Her actions are innocent, purely curious on the size of your hands, but she still leans both of your palms together, still holding them upright.

You and Michael don’t give that much of a reaction as Ruby tries to align them perfectly at the base of your palms and see the size difference from the top of your fingers.

An idea pops in your mind as your hand rests against Michael’s, and as Ruby pulls back to check the difference after so much adjusting, you slide your palm against Michael’s, so your fingers align right at the same height.

Michael chuckles at the confused look on Ruby’s face and she smiles at the contagious sound.

But as soon as the small girl notices what you’ve done, she sends you a glare, making the two of you laugh at her.

Your conjoined laughs catch everyone’s attention for a quick second and Gina doesn’t even care to take a second look. Ada smiles as she sees Ruby readjusting your palms, and, this time, it’s Michael who moves his hand, almost making his fingers only lay over half of your palm.

Ruby glares at him too and you two laugh, again.

“Alright, we’ll stop.” You tell her.

Ruby retries, but this time she has a tactic. As she makes sure that you are aligned perfectly, she holds both your and Michael’s thumb and force them to rest against the other’s back of the hand.

She leans back and stares at the difference between your hands, now happy with her achievement.

You two let her stare at the size difference with her big wide eyes, but something interrupts the sweet moment.

“Michael, honey.” Gina calls out as the conversation between everyone restarts, “Can you pass me that cup?”

Michael takes his hand off yours and you can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of his touch. He leans forward on the couch and grabs the cup of tea for Gina from the center table, something she could easily get it herself.

You let your hand fall back to your lap and you take a sharp deep inhale, not wanting to be sitting on this couch for any longer.

You let some minutes pass, so you don’t seem like a total bitch, and when feeling ready, you lean forward on the couch, wincing in pain as your body shows to have grown sore over the lack of painkillers and from not moving at all for the past few hours.

Polly’s eyes go over to you at the sound only her seemed to notice, and you look back at her.

“I’m going to bed, I think.” You explain, making everybody get silent and look at you, “I feel exhausted.”

“Need help to find your meds?” She asks, already starting to get up, and you shake your head.

“No, no.” You hold your hand up stopping her, “Stay here. I’ll find them.”

You make sure to sit Ruby on the couch comfortably before forcing yourself up from the low couch. You fight off any sound of pain as you stand on your feet, but your face made it quite obvious.

You really should’ve taken those meds earlier.

You walk to the kitchen, trying not to show any other expression of pain, and everyone’s eyes are on you. Gina stares as you lean against the doorframe to regain your strength, yet she doesn’t feel anything in return. Not even an ounce of pity.

You stumble into the kitchen and look at the main counter, expecting the meds to be sitting right in the middle, just like you left them. But this wouldn’t be Polly’s house if they were.

Your feet get dragged as you take your time walking around to the kitchen.

You start opening every cabinet and drawer that could possibly have your meds, but there are too many to find them right away. Maybe going to bed without your meds wouldn’t be that bad.

You just need to lay down, now.

“Need help?”

You turn on your heels to find Michael by the doorway, already in the kitchen. You look away quickly back to all the drawers and try to hide any type of emotion towards his sudden appearance.

“No, I think I got it.” You answer back.

You continue to look through the many drawers and only after 2 minutes of seeing you struggle; Michael decides to move. He walks towards you and you stand still as he does so.

As he passes between you and the counter behind you, he holds onto your shoulders to make you stand back a little and let him pass. Something that surely made your skin react, but, thankfully, it all came unnoticed to him.

He opens a drawer slightly away from you and pulls out exactly what you’re looking for.

“How did you know?” You ask, curious.

“This is where she would put my meds after I got shot. It’s her drawer from stronger meds.” He explains.

How the hell did you not know that?

You walk towards him as he opens the small paper bag, taking your medicine out and handing it over to you. You take it from his hands carefully and put it down on the counter beside you.

“Thank you” You whisper at him.

You take your medicine in silence as the conversation restarts in the living room, and you try not to cringe at anything that you’re taking. Why is everything so bitter?

Whenever you’re done with one of the meds, Michael grabs them slowly and puts them back on the bag without saying anything.

He slides the drawers closed when done and you start taking the jewelry off your hands, just to start and get your way to the bed way quicker.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and you look up at him.

“No. But I’ll be.” You say sincerely before looking away and taking a step away from him, “That’s what matters.”

Michael notices your hesitation into continuing some sort of conversation, just like your slight cold tone, but he tries his best to ignore it.

“I’m going to bed,” You announce while turning your back to him and making your way out of kitchen.

“Good night.” He says as you reach the doorway.

You send him a tight-lipped smile and walk out, back into the living room. Polly is, of course, the first one to notice you.

“Did you find it?” She asks.

“Michael did.” You answer.

You walk over to her and once close, lean over and kiss her cheek. The rest of the family distracted with something else or some other type of conversation.

Michael walks out of the kitchen and you reach the stairs, after saying a quick good night, loud enough for everyone else to hear.

You jump up the steps with your rings in your hands as you bring your cold and clammy hands to your neck to try and unclasp your necklaces. Your eyes land on Michael’s as you reach the top floor and he’s staring back.

Gina calls his name in a whisper and he looks at her, breaking your eye contact. And as soon as his eyes reach Gina’s, he doesn’t hesitate into giving her a sweet smile.

As he looks back up while walking around the couch, his eyes meet nothing but some painting on the wall.

You’re not there anymore.

(…)

The sound of birds surrounds you, their soft and energized tweeting coming from the trees far away from you and some branches above you, as the warm summer wind hits your body like a warm hug.

You shift your position on the ground, laying on your stomach and looking up at the sky between the branches high up, far, far away from you.

Solitary clouds float over the bright blue sky, almost not shielding any land from the sunlight.

Your exposed back is warm, erupting into chills whenever Michael moves his hand. You close your eyes again and let yourself relax again.

A hand touches the side of your head softly and slowly you feel its fingers start to trace your hairline. You open your eyes, blinking the sunlight away, and look up at Michael.

His hand falls to your cheek as you move and a small smile spreads over his lips.

“Let me sleep,” You whine, and he finally gives you a full smile.

“Alright,” He answers in a whisper, “Sorry.”

You sigh and hold yourself up with your hands, you push your body up on his torso and his hands go to your waist. Not caring over only wearing a dress, you lay yours legs over his hips, straddling his lap while pulling yourself up.

“I forgive you.” You whisper back playfully.

You snuggle into the crook of his neck and his smell hits you like an embrace. The small bit of communication pulled you away from your sleepy thoughts and movements, but you still felt just as clingy and slow.

As you lay back against him, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him with everything in him. You snuggle in to welcome his tight hold and one of his hands stretches over your skin of your back.

You’re wearing a simple black dress, baggy from your waist down, but completely backless.

“Can we lay here for, like…” You pause, “Forever?”

Michael chuckles from under you and leans his head to the side to rest it against yours.

“We’ll get hungry eventually.” He answers, and you smile.

“I’m sure there’s some animals around here.” You continue to play around, smile prominent in your voice.

“I hope you know how to make a fire, then.”

You giggle into Michael’s neck and pull away slightly. His hold loosens slightly so you can move a bit and you look down at him.

“Don’t you know how to make a fire?” You ask and he frowns.

“Why would I?”

“I don’t know” You shrug, “Weren’t you like a country boy or something?”

With that, Michael lets out the biggest belly laugh ever, leaving you to smile as he cackles away at your words. Your tone had been obviously playful, but it still made it just as funny for him.

“I lived at a farm. I wasn’t a cave man!” He exclaims, tilting his head to look at you better.

“Sounds the same to me.”

He smiles at you and you bring one of your hands to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. You lean in and give him the softest peck you could. When pulling away, you look at him in the eyes as he tries to pull you into another kiss. You let him, letting your lips rest over the softness of his as you too fall into the pit of slow and lovingly making out.

He sits up in the middle of the kiss and you sit over his legs as he does it. His hands travel effortlessly down your waist to your legs, lifting your skirt enough to slither in his hands underneath.

You pull away and look down at him as you stand on your knees, adjusting your seating on his thighs. You peck his lips multiple times before sitting back and eyeing him.

“I love you” He confesses in a whisper, eyes staring back onto yours, “so much”

“Really?” You ask, serious, leaning a little back and he frowns.

“Yeah…?”

He’s confused, but soon your playful smile reappears.

“How much, again?”

“A lot.”

“How much is ‘a lot’?” You keep going. “Like, ‘a lot’ like the size of a mountain or ‘a lot’ as in…” You think for a second, but he interrupts.

“How old are you again?” He teases about your childish words and you force your smile to disappear, just so you can scowl at him.

“Oh, fuck off” You say to him, “I was trying to be cute here, no need to ruin the moment for us.”

“Alright, keep going then” He says, “The size of a mountain or…?”

“Uhm… The size of…” You try to think, mind completely blank over any ideas. “The size of… the ocean?”

He chuckles at your final words and you grin.

“The ocean.” He says, sure of his words, no hesitation.

You stay silent for a bit.

“Which one?”

“Oh, come on!” He says, completely bored out of this conversation, making you laugh at him, “The biggest one you can think of”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now, can you please” He emphasizes the word comically, dragging it, “for the love of God, just tell me that you love me back?”

You kiss his lips over his frown.

“You’re so romantic.” You comment sarcastically.

“I know.”

You smile at him and decide not to give in just yet. The boy can suffer for a bit.

Telling him that you loved him now or in 5 minutes won’t exactly make that much of a difference.

You stand up on your feet, away from his lap, and he stares up at you while letting out a sigh.

“You gotta earn it.” You say with a playful look, making his frown break slightly.

“Oh really?”

“Yes.” You nod.

You take a step back as he stands up and your smile doesn’t disappear at all as you move away from him. Every step forward from Michael is a step back for you, making his urge to get to you bigger.

And soon, the running around starts.

You laugh as you run from him, sometimes feeling his fingers graze over your arms, making your heart beat faster with the adrenaline.

The tall weeds slap the skin of your exposed legs softly, tickling you as you ran away from your boyfriend. The scenery in front of you motivates into keeping on running, the summery flowers all open and colorfully staring up at the sky.

All you hear is your soft steps over the plants and the birds, it gives you peace. You can still hear Michael running behind you.

You let out a giggle as he’s about to touch you and out of nowhere, it stops.

The warm breeze lifts into a cold one and you look around confused.

You know that the weather can be unpredictable, but this is too radical for it to make sense.

Your hands start getting cold rapidly and soon your body is enveloped into complete body chills, your dress being nothing but useless when it comes to make you stay warm.

The breeze goes from cold to freezing in the matter of seconds, leaving you nothing but panicked.

You feel lightheaded and short of breath and as you try to warm yourself up with your own arms, soon you realize… You can’t feel your own palms touching your skin.

The sunlight fades as clouds fly their way in to color the skies a dark grey and you stare up.

You’re in a dream.

You’re dreaming.

You look over your shoulder at Michael to find him just as confused just a few steps away. He must have stopped running right as you did. But his skin, is not reacting like yours. His exposed arms, from the folded sleeves are not reacting to the cold in chills. It’s like it’s not affecting him.

He’s not the real Michael.

“What’s happening?” He asks you.

“I don’t know” You lie. You know exactly what’s happening.

Your dream is becoming a nightmare.

You look around as the wind gets harsher and your heart starts to beat more violently, just like your shortness of breath forces you into panting your way to find your peace again.

You step closer to Michael and cup his face.

He stares back at you still with his confused eyes and you kiss him. Your lips touch his and his hands come to rest over your waist as the wind continues to come at full force towards you.

Your hands feel numb, not being able to feel the texture of his suit, just like you had felt a few minutes prior. But you feel his hands, the way they rest on your waist, warming your skin under the violent and freezing wind.

“I love you,” You tell him as you pull away.

You open your eyes and you’re met with Michael’s pale face. His eyes are empty, with absolutely no light or sign of life.

You caress his cold cheeks with your thumbs, and you notice blood over his bottom lip. His hands had fallen a second ago from your waist, and you already miss his familiar warmth.

You bring your finger to wipe the blood away carefully and notice that it’s all over his mouth, coloring his white bottom teeth.

A small trail of blood starts falling off his nose and soon from his ears as well, slowly coloring your hands into the color red.

Red, hands completely filled with deep red, now that you try and wipe it.

Michael falls onto his knees and you do the same, holding him close to you even though it’s just his corpse. He’s cold and his hold is not even there anymore. His arms are by his sides as his head rests over your shoulder.

You wrap your arms around him, and the wind becomes more and more violent.

You force your eyes closed and let it take you too.

You open your eyes, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth. You’re not panting anymore, but your heart is beating quickly.

You try to sit up, but a sudden jab of pain hits you. You gasp and wince in pain but still bring yourself to do it. A sob escapes your mouth too right as you’re able to sit upright.

Your face feels wet and cold in the air of the room. You must have been crying before you woke up.

You whine in pain as you bring yourself to turn on the light beside you and as the warm yellow light illuminates the room, all you see is blood.

Your own blood, spread around your white shirt and white sheets, painting your hands just like in your dream.

“Pol-” You try to call out, but your voice breaks in a sob as pain runs through you.

You sob into the empty and silent air and try it again.

“Polly!” You sob out loud, hoping that that was enough to awake her if it’s late enough for that.

You wait a few long seconds for any sound coming from the hallway or stairs, but nothing.

“Polly!” You try to scream louder.

Polly holds her hand up to shut up Gina and the room falls silent. Michael leans forward from the railing of the stairs and looks at his mom confused; arms still crossed over his chest.

“Poll-” You cough.

Michael, before Polly could even get up, makes his way up the stairs and runs down the hall, trying his best to be fast enough to get to your room.

Your door swings open and you continue to sob as the lights are turned on.

“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You sob to whoever is at the door, staring down at your hands, “I-I, I woke up and…”

Michael shakes his shock away at the sight of your bed all bloodied, just like your hands, and walks towards you. His eyes fall to your shirt and notices from where your blood is coming from, your wound.

“Mom!” Michael shouts while looking up at the door.

Your ears start to buzz as panic starts to set in in your system and two hands move yours away from your eyes.

“You’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice repeats and you sob helplessly.

Michael sits in front of you in the bed and brings you close to him, ignoring that he’s now being covered in blood as well.

He makes you rest your hands on his shoulders so that they’re away from your eyes and starts to unbutton some of the buttons of your shirt.

Polly finally gets to the door and the sight is absolutely terrifying.

“She ripped stitches. I think.”

Polly forces herself to walk to the bed and to help Michael check your wound. He continues to unbutton your shirt with one hand only and he’s quick to rip the bandage off.

You sob in pain as he does it and both him and Polly try to look past the blood and ignore your sobs to see what happened to your wound. It opened, maybe 3 of the 9 stitches ripped.

“I’ll call the doctor.” Polly says.

Michael nods and holds you closer to him, not wanting you to move too far away. Your side rests against his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, while one of his hands grabs the sheets and holds them over the wound.

You sob silently while leaning closer to him and he looks up at your face.

“Hey. You’re okay, look at me.” He whispers at you and you do it, “You’re okay. It’s not too bad. You’re safe. I promise.”

You stare at him in the eyes and he leans his forehead against yours.

“You’re okay” He whispers lower.

You nod as tears continue to roll down your face and he nods with you. Your breathing starts to slow down, and he presses a kiss over your wet cheek.

“I got you.” He whispers against your skin.

(…)

Michael sighs loudly as he walks into the kitchen and he feels exhausted.

“Is the doctor finished?” Polly asks him and he just nods, “And her?”

“Passed out before he could even start” He answers, “The doctor said to just let her sleep.”

He walks towards the sink and he turns on the water, holding his bloody hands under it. The two women standing in the kitchen are silent, watching him wash his hands carelessly while staring at the wall.

“I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” Polly says.

His mom walks out of the kitchen and he turns off the water, turning around to face Gina.

“Are we going to the hotel after this?” She asks softly.

“I can drive you there, but I’m staying here, tonight.”

She takes a deep breath and brings her hands to her head, annoyed.

“Why? She’s asleep. You can visit her tomorrow.” She tries.

“I’ll sleep better here.”

She scoffs.

“You’re fucking unbelievable.”

“I’m unbelievable?” Michael answers, bringing his hand up to point at his own chest.

“Yes!” She almost screams, “You are unbelievable! And you want to know why?” She asks, “Because no matter what I fucking do or fucking say, you will always put her before me.”

“Always, Gina? Are you serious?” Michael asks in disbelief, “You’ve been my fucking priority ever since we met, and now because I show some sort of affection towards a girl that is fucking bleeding and crying her lungs out, I’m supposedly putting her before you?”

“Yes! I don’t even know what you had with her before me!” She shouts, “Ever since I step foot into this shit hole I’ve been listening to her name and seeing her over and over again. Do you really think I believe that she’s simply a ‘family friend’?” She air-quotes.

“You want the truth?” He asks, no shouting needed, but he sounds mad.

“Yes.”

“We dated for 4 years, almost 5. I ended our relationship when in America.” He answers and Gina stands silent, “See? I can tell you the truth when you ask nicely.”

“And if you broke up why do you still like her?” She asks, ignoring his hateful tease at the end of his sentence.

“You have to be joking-”

“Are you going to say that that’s a lie?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, “Let me give you some of my truth, Michael. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you two went through, or if you were in a good relationship or not when with her, but you broke up. I don’t care why, but you did. And there was a time when you chose me over her. That’s why you proposed, right?”

Michael doesn’t answer her.

“So, please, for the love of God, stop being a child and move on with your life. You’ve been mopping around her, touching her all the time as if you’re dying to do it at every second of the day… Even if she does still like you, you are with me now, not her.” She spits at him, “Move. On. She’s not yours anymore, Michael. I am.”

He swallows hard at her words and looks at her emptily.

Polly makes her way back inside the kitchen, acting as if she didn’t hear a thing, but that seems to not scare off Gina from continuing.

“Are you even listening to m-?”

“I am.”

“Then say something, Michael.” She scolds, “Is it not true, what I’m saying?”

Polly looks between them as if waiting for it to evolve in any way, and simply extends her hand towards Michael, so he can grab the clean shirt.

“Is she your priority or no-”

“Yes.” Michael answers, “Y/N is my priority.” He nods, sure of himself and his words. “Yes, I’m engaged to you, Gina, but I care for her, and she will always be my priority.”

Gina bites her tongue and looks at Michael.

It honestly comes to no surprise. She had just thrown these words at him not that long ago, at lunch. He had just never confirmed it for her, and now… he did. But ‘always’? You will always be his priority? Now, that, doesn’t sit right with her.

They stand in silence and Michael leans back on the counter, finally taking the shirt from his mom’s hands. He thanks her with a look but to no avail because her eyes are not even on him.

“You’re serious?” Gina comments in slight disbelief.

“I am.” Michael confirms.

“What does that mean for us, then?” She asks.

Michael stays silent and the blonde slides off the highchair she has been sitting on, standing on her heels. Her eyes stay on him as tears threaten to swell up at her eyes.

“I’m not sure.” Michael answers truthfully.

She nods at his words and brings her eyes to the ground. She feels disappointed but mostly betrayed. Her eyes are good to show that emotion, but soon, it evolves into something else.  Pure anger. Anger over the betraying words and truth, the one that just got thrown around as if it was nothing.

And Polly notices it.

“I think it’s better if you leave, Gina.”

Michael takes his eyes off his fiancée to stare at his mother, who just opened her mouth. He didn’t expect her to get herself involved in his worries, but she did.

“What?” Gina asks, bringing her head back up to stare at Polly.

“You heard me.”

Her eyes travel to Michael in hopes that he would defend her, but nothing. He’s just staring back at her, almost holding the same look as his mother.

He doesn’t want her here. He wants her to leave.

She shakes her head, overcome with emotion, and forces her feet to move. Her palms tingle with the idea of hitting something, or rather, someone, but her eyes fill with tears.

How could have she been so stupid?

She slams the front door shut behind her and the Gray family stand in the kitchen unphased.

“Rather dramatic that one, uh?” Polly asks her son.

Michael doesn’t answer her venomous comment, but that didn’t seem to surprise her. His mother walks around the counter and grabs the cup Gina used for her whiskey, bringing it to the sink so she can wash it.

It’s like this conversation didn’t affect her a slight bit.

Michael feels weird. He doesn’t regret telling Gina anything but the look she gave him spoke more than any of her words could. She felt betrayed by him, and she was holding back so many emotions and words.

He knows that if it wasn’t for his mom, Gina would be screaming at him, maybe even throwing stuff at the walls. Just like she usually does when she’s upset. But she didn’t do anything, she decided to contain herself and not scream or even curse him out.

And honestly, Michael doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that she could be destroying his mom’s kitchen or the fact that she’s bottling up all her frustration and anger.

He thought he knew Gina before coming back home, but the trip only made him and her show their true colors. One can’t stop comparing his newfound love to his old one, and the other obsesses over the idea of power and desperately wanting to overthrow anyone in her way.

Quite a pair, that’s for sure.

(…)

You open your eyes as the lights burns your eyelids open and an involuntary groan runs off your mouth as you’re hit with the morning light right in the face. You turn your head to the side, but you’re met with another window with the curtains open.

“Fuck.” You curse out loud.

You sit up and another sound escapes your mouth, but this time, a whimper of pain.

It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you finally remember why you’re in pain in the first place.

“Jesus Christ.” You comment to yourself, again.

Your bloody sheets are set to the side, right next to your door, and before your mind could even try to process it, you push any thoughts of your nightmare away from you.

You pull yourself up carefully and try to ignore the tightness that you feel over your wound. You’re not quite sure what happened after the doctor appeared, but if you’re still at Polly’s house, it could only mean one thing…

It’s not as bad as it looked.

You walk to the bathroom and the sight that meets your eyes is, just, great.

Your shirt is mostly unbuttoned, bloodied, just like your bra. Some of your skin has been cleaned, but not all. Your face as some blood smeared on it, but it doesn’t surprise you. You remember moving so much when you woke up, it would be a miracle it your feet would be clean.

You throw the clothes into the bin and start cleaning yourself off. You can’t exactly bath over having to make the wound be dry at all times. But you have been able to manage quite nicely. With weird positions, for sure, but you’re able to wash your body and hair quite nicely.

You put on some washed clothes on and make your way out of the bedroom. It must be really early since the house is more than silent.

Before you walk down the stairs, you walk over to the guest’s room just to check. Finn is laying on his back over the large bed, mouth partly open as some light snores escape his lips, making you smile at him.

You take a step back and close the door back up. He must’ve gotten here after the doctor.

You make your way down the stairs easily, and as soon as your eyes land on the couch, you see Michael.

He’s awake with a mug on his hands, eyes on the carpet as he is completely lost in thought. He has a scowl over his face, hiding any kind of emotion from anyone’s eyes, and as your feet finally meet the last step, he looks up.

His scowl disappears and a slight grin appears over his lips.

“Good morning.” You say before he could.

“Good morning.” He answers back.

You walk towards him and he watches you as you carry yourself with ease over to the couch. You take a seat next to him and notice that his mug is still filled with warm coffee.

He extends the mug your way when noticing your interest and you smile, taking it.

“Thank you.” You whisper.

The hot mug burns your cold palms, and you welcome the almost uncomfortable heat into your skin. You bring it to your lips and take a small sip of the dark liquid.

You’re sitting close to Michael, sitting on top of one of your legs as you sit looking at him. You’re not wearing much more than a shirt, exposing your legs to him and to anyone in the house, but you don’t seem uncomfortable with your lack of clothing.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks and you bring the mug down from your mouth, licking your lips at the same time.

“Yeah” You nod.

You give him back his mug after taking your generous sips and he takes it back onto his hands.

“When did Finn get here?” You ask him, curious.

“About half an hour after the doctor left.” He answers, leaning forward to put down the burning mug on the coffee table, finding it impossible to drink from how hot it is, still.

You nod at as his answer and while you’re thinking about what else to ask, he speaks again.

“You scared the living shit out of us last night.” He says, making you look back at him.

His eyes are back on the carpet and your chest tightens at the sight.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize.

“Don’t.” He says, finally looking back up, “It’s not your fault.”

He leans back on the couch and both of you continue to look at each other. The air is not thick as it usually is, it’s light and easy to breathe in. Your looks are both familiar, always taking your minds back in time for a quick second.

Your mind takes you to your dream and soon his pale face reappears in your mind. You shake the thoughts away, right as Michael opens his mouth to talk.

“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I can make you something to eat.”

You smile widely at him and bring your hands to your lap.

“Are you finally proving yourself useful around the house?” You tease, making him smile back, “I must be in a dream. Since when do you-”

“I’ve always been able to cook” He defends himself.

“Yeah, right.”

“It’s true!”

“Michael, you couldn’t even cook potatoes!”

“Couldn’t!” He says to you, leaning forward to be right in front of you, “Things have changed in my kitchen.”

A laugh escapes your lips as he smiles down at you and he stands from the couch. He gives you his hand and as soon as your palms touch, he pulls you up from the couch.

“Come on, I’ll show you my experienced cooking.” He encourages as you take small, demotivated steps his way, “Do you want me to make you potatoes, just so I can prove my point?”

“No.” You giggle, “Just- Do whatever.”

He turns around and starts walking to the kitchen, letting your hand fall from his as you stay a little behind.

“You know what?” You ask him as you get in the kitchen, making him look back at you, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were”

Michael laughs at your words as you say them, and he nods.

“Oh, why, thank you!” He says enthusiastically, “Aren’t you lovely right as the sun rises?”

You let out a loud laugh and he moves over behind the island counter, looking around the cabinets to look for something to cook for you.

You stare at the back of his head as he walks around and take a seat on one of the chairs.

One could get used to this.

Taglist: @ohhersheybars @woodland-mist @onlythechicagoway @soleil-dor @finn-shelbys-bulldog @oh-theres-a-woman @peakyxtommy @ms-reader @beautycinders @lovemissyhoneybee @graceedwards @jadesbabylon @marvelismylifffe @a-dorky-book-keeper @peakascum @shanetoo @hufflemendes @cherrytop02 @http-cherries @burnitup @livingforbarnes @iccyyyybitch @ravennaofasgar @carezzesuigraffi @fernweh-fangirl @hufflepeople @huskyhunny @desertgremlin @fireawayxx @lemur46 @sugarcoated-lame @i-sneeze-to-appease @gabytodd​ @cococola-cocaine​ @namelesslosers​ ​

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Hope you enjoyed this! If would like to make any questions about the characters or when the next part will be available. My ask box is always open.

[kim-miyeon]

Hell Above-Chapter Sixteen

PAIRINGS: Hwang Hyunjin x Female Reader

WARNINGS: Series contains mature content, read at your own discretion. Mafia!AU, explicit language, suggestive language, graphic scenes, weapons, murder, angst, 18+.

WORD COUNT: 5.7K

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Someday We’ll Tell Ourselves, “Oh My God, This Is Paradise”

“We’re doing it. It’s my call.” You said as you headed at the door, Hyunjin watched as you left.

“She can’t be serious.” Felix gawked and Seungmin enclasped his hands and he sighed.

“You know she is.”

“Is she always like that?” Changbin asked, looking at Hyunjin.

“Been like that for years, you can’t change her” Minho responded, eyeing at Changbin.

“She's as hard headed as the come. Minho knows more about that than you think.” Seungmin followed up.

“We have to figure out another way. She can’t risk her life for this.” Hyunjin spoke and Jisung huffed.

“The family is already fucked up,” he stated

“Jeongin would know what to do though.” Seungmin announced catching everyone’s attention. “Jeongin knows her better than any of us, including you.” Seungmin looked at Hyunjin and stressed his words. “

“He would know what to do and how to get her to change her mind.”

“Where is Jeongin?” Hyunjin asked softly.

“At the hospital after YOUR sister fucked him up.” Felix spat out aggressively earning a nudge from Minho.

“My sister and I are two different people…” Hyunjin stated and the room fell  to an awkward silence. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault” Minho reassured Hyunjin and Hyunjin nodded.

“but your sister fucking sucks” Minho followed up.

“Yeah no kidding” Felix agreed and Hyunjin chuckled as he looked at the boys who just smiled back at him.

“Hyunjin and I will go talk to Jeongin and we’ll figure out what to do. Don’t say anything to Y/N while we do that. We will report back later. Got it?” Minho ordered and the boys nodded their heads as Minho patted Hyunjin back as Hyunjin Let Minho take the lead towards the door.

Minho reached and grabbed the door of the hospital and Hyunjin walked in, Minho following behind. It was a silent place, almost eerie and the feeling of walking in and smelling the clean air made Hyunjin sick. He kept replaying what Felix had said about Yeji and that Jeongin and Y/N were close. That someone knew her better than him. No sense of jealousy, but almost sadness, that she had someone to confide in that wasn’t himself. And he couldn’t blame her. How do you talk about things with your significant other if it’s a secret that needs to be kept.  In the back of his mind its troubled him how well you played your role, never once breaking or exposing your raw truth. He was impressed. You have always been someone to impress him. You would amaze him in ways he never knew one could. So it hurt him to know that you must have been in pain, in agony, when the closest person to you ended up here.

“Can I ask..” Hyunjin began and Minho shifted his view to him.

“Yeji.. what. Um. Like what..”

“He had seven fractured ribs, damn near a broken spine, collapsed lung, broken shoulders from being hung.” Minho started and Hyunjin felt the pain run off of Minho’s tone.

“He was extremely dehydrated and malnourished and she kept him alive by injecting him adrenaline. His heart race was so high that the doctors believed he could have gone into cardiac arrest. And then the night we got him back and … everything happened…” the two walked slower until Minho stopped in his tracks.

“She shot him in his back. He had to undergo surgery four hours and retrieve the bullet and shards. It’s a miracle he’s alive.”

Hyunjin imagined it. That night he saw you in the basement. When everything changed, not only was she dealing with the pain of losing you but she was enduring the pain of losing her closest person.

“Jeongin is the youngest of us. And growing up, Y/N probably felt alone. I don’t know when but I know that those two are attached at the hip.”

Hyunjin smiled and Minho laughed a bit as they started to walk again and Minho shrugged.

“Don’t get too jealous Hyunjin. She still has a lot of love for you.” Minho reassured.

“I’m not jealous just, upset that you guys had to go through this. I feel responsible.” Hyunjin sighed and Minho nodded.

“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know what she was doing.” Minho said.

“I still don’t. It worries me that she’s constantly planning something. She’s a fucking parasite.” Hyunjin rolled his eyes and Minho laughed.

“Whatever she has up her sleeve, we will come back twice as hard against her.” The two walked up to the door and Minho knocked as Hyunjin grew nervous about meeting Jeongin.

“Minho!” Jeongin exclaimed as Minho stepped into the room. Then Hyunjin saw him. A small boy in his opinion, eyes sharp, resembling a cute fox. His dark hair over his eyes, and his skin was pale. He was sitting up on the bed watching tv and had just finished his dinner which was set on a tray next to him. Jeongin looked at Hyunjin and his eyes widened and Hyunjin got more anxious.

“Jeongin, this is Hyunjin.” Minho introduced and Jeongin smiled at Hyunjin.

“Nice to meet you Jeongin.” Hyunjin nodded at him.

“I’ve heard a lot about you.” Jeongin smiled and Hyunjin widened his eyes.

“You have?”

“Not all of it came from the documents.” Jeongin smiled while he spoke and Hyunjin smiled and thought about what it could have been that you shared. How many secrets did Jeongin know? What kinds of things did you express to him?

“She loves you a lot. Thank you for taking care of her.

Hyunjin snapped out of his mind when he heard Jeongin speaking to him. Hyunjin smiled softly before Jeongin turned his attention to look at Minho.

“What’s going on?”

“Grandfather ordered an execution on Y/N for treason.” Minho stated and Jeongin pursed his lips with little shock in his face.

“Cause she’s pregnant..”

“Yeah.”

“And I bet she came up with a ridiculous plan too.” Jeongin stated earning a surprised looked from Minho and Hyunjin stepped a bit closer.

“She wants to use a tranquilizing bullet to slow her heart rate down enough to wear grandfather believes she is dead.” Hyunjin said and Jeongin bit his lip.

“And she wants Minho to pull the trigger.” Jeongin finished and Minho looked at him as he nodded slowly.

“Are you?” Jeongin asked.

“I can’t. There’s no guarantee that the bullet won’t kill her and her baby.”

“She really over complicates everything.” Jeongin crossed his arms over his chest.

“We need you to talk to her. And convince her not to go down this route.” Minho demanded and Jeongin furrowed his brows.

“Why me?”

“Unfortunately you’re the only one she will listen to. If I tell her it’s not enough.”

“If I try to convince her to not go through with it.. what would be the other route.” Jeongin sat forward.

“We don’t know. We have to think about it.”

Hyunjin watched the pause over the room. The silence that consumed the two. He watched as Jeongin was struggling to say something as Minho paced slowly around the hospital room.

“Minho.” Jeongin softly said.

“Yeah?”

“Maybe the gun shouldn’t be pointed at Y/N.”

Hyunjin looked over at Minho who looked at Jeongin in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we should be aiming our weapons at someone else.”

Hyunjin thought about Jeongin’s words. He pondered through them until he knew what Jeongin meant. Until everything made sense.

“Your grandfather.” Hyunjin softly said and Minho looked at him and then shook his head.

“Jeongin we can’t kill grandfather.” Minho walked closer to the bed.

“Can't.. or won’t?” Jeongin tested.

“Huh?.” Minho flinched back lightly.

“Look at me Minho and tell me you really believe that grandfather shouldn’t be the one on his knees begging for mercy. Tell me you don’t believe he hasn’t committed treason.” Jeongin sternly said and Minho stood there and looked down at the floor.

“Think about it. He almost killed his own blood.” Jeongin pointed to himself.

“He did kill his own blood.” Hyunjin interjected and Jeongin turned his head softly.

“Killing grandfather could mean a whole world of danger . Not just to Y/N...but all of us.” Minho said almost mumbling through his teeth.

“So the risk scares you?” Jeongin asked.

“Putting you all in danger scares me” Minho looked back up and snapped back at Jeongin.

“Minho. You had too many chances to defend Y/N in her time of need. This is your last chance.” Minho looked at Jeongin for a short period and felt his words. But inside he knew the consequences, he could feel the future, and he couldn’t bear to watch any of his family die. Not even you.

“Convive Y/N to change her mind, Jeongin. Hyunjin and I will figure out a plan.” Minho said as he headed out the door leaving Hyunjin there with Jeongin.

Jeongin sighed as he looked down at his hands and bit his lip.

“Whenever she spoke about you..”

Hyunjin looked up at Jeongin and Jeongin looked back up at him and continued.

“There was always a twinkle in her eye, and a smile on her face. She radiated a room when you were brought up. It was intoxicating.”

Hyunjin smiled a bit imagining you in that moment. How you always lit up a room. How your eyes shined beautiful and smiled like an angel.

“She loves you Hyunjin. More than anything. And I know you feel the same way. Don’t let her go through with this.” Jeongin stated and Hyunjin felt Jeongin’s voice darken and his next words left a shiver down Hyunjin’s spine.

“The only way out is through.”

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

The night was eerily peaceful as Hyunjin looked out the window from the bedroom replaying Jeongin’s words.

“The only way out is through.”

Hyunjin remembered the same words spoken from his father, and how it made him feel and what he finally understood of it.

After you and Minho left the room Hyunjin looked at his father who groaned as he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“She’s pregnant.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened with fear and he felt his whole body run ice cold. His heart beat racing and beating so loudly he could hear the pounding in his ears.

“How did you know?

“I can see it.” Hyunjin’s father smiled and Hyunjin felt the once cold rush turn warm. “She has the same glow about her the way your mother did when she was pregnant with you and Yeji.”

Hyunjin watched his father Internally deciding how to move forward and what to say.

“I am grateful to her for sparing your life Hyunjin. She’s incredibly trained and I know she didn’t have to.” Hyunjin’s father somberly said.

“Is that why you are helping us?” Hyunjin asked and his father sighed.

“I can only help you so much. The network, the organization of underground leaders, would have me at the stake if they knew I was handing out information like this.” Hyunjin knew that the mafia leaders couldn’t disappoint or go against the men who fed them.he knew the network was the way we received our riches and gold. The ones who did the dirty work so that the me above could shine. It was a dangerous game, and you never knew if someone close to you was a part of them. Hyunjin’s father could be dead within seconds if someone found out.

“You love her a lot, don’t you?” Hyunjin didn’t know how to answer his father, but he was tired of lying and tired of meeting a middle ground.

“More than anything in this world Father. She is my other half and I want to raise this child with her. I want to live a normal life with this woman.”

“Then the only way out Hyunjin is through.”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin scrunched his brows and his father nodded to himself.

“If you want to spend the rest of your life with her and your child, in peace, you cannot avoid the obstacles that stand in your way.”

Hyunjin stood there rather confused as his father watched him trying to uncover a riddle that he handed to his son. Hyunjin looking stunned as he was deciding what his father meant but his father clears his throat and pull him back into reality

“Go on. I have to continue my work.”

Hyunjin nodded softly and turned towards the door.

“Hyunjin..” Hyunjin turned around to his father and his father sighed.

“Be safe.”

You rose up from the bed and began wheezing and your body frailed and Hyunjin ran from the window over to you. Your hair and body was wet from sweat and you had tears streaming down your face. Your body was burning to the touch as Hyunjin wrapped his arms around you.

“Hey hey hey” Hyunjin cooed as you wheezed and Hyunjin looked at your face and grabbed it and looked into your eyes. Bone chilling fear “Y/N. Look at me.”

You found Hyunjins orbs and locked in with him as he helped you breathe in and out slowly. He began to feel you come down from your high and you looked down at his arms and chest that were around you.

“You’re okay.” He pulled you into him and you laid on his chest, crying.

“What happened ? Hyunjin asked stroking your hair and you sniffled

“A bad dream..I can’t remember..” you stuttered through your choked tears and Hyunjin comforted you

“Hey shush. I’m right here, love. Nothing bad is going to happen. Everything will be okay.”

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

“Here it is”

“So tell me, when Minho shoots it-“ You started and Changbin cut you off.

“It will break the skin, it will hurt, especially if he is rather close to you. I made this protection pad for you to wear..”  Changbin handed to the padding and you eyed it a bit before he continued.

“This should help stop the force of the bullet from completely killing you”

“YAH!” Hyunjin yelled more as a warning to be careful with the words people used. He was on edge with the whole situation.

“Hyunjin it ‘s fine. It won’t kill me. We just need it to put me out for a few, make grandfather believe I am dead.” You looked at him before turning to Changbin, “Thank you Changbin.”

Hyunjin clenched his jaw and left the room as you tried to grab on to his arm as he jerked you off.

“Hyunjin—“

You followed after him and you two were in the hallway when you called out his name again and grabbed him as he  turned to you.

“This is ridiculous Y/N putting yourself at danger! Putting everything on the line like this. If he thinks you're dead, what difference does it make!?”

“He hid me from the world. He made me non existent. Do you know that you could have been dead years ago!? That’s why.” You retorted and Hyunjin sighed out in frustration.

“I’m playing the same game as him, Hyunjin. Making myself non existent. For me, for you…” You grabbed his hand and placed it over your stomach, “for our family.”

Hyunjin pulled you into a hug and held you tightly, like he was going to lose you .“I just can’t bear to think of something happens, if you-“

“Nothing will happen, I promise. I trust Minho. I trust the plan.”

Hyunjin looked at you with little confidence as you perched yourself up to place a kiss on his lips. Pulling back you still saw the worrying in his eyes and you placed your hand on his cheek.

“I’m going to go back to talk to Changbin some more.” You smiled and you turned to leave and Hyunjin watched you walk away.

He ran his hands through his hair and face. He sighed and looked down reaching into his pants to grab his phone. The words of not only his father but Jeongin kept playing and Hyunjin began to believe that they were right. You can’t go through with this. He wouldn’t allow it.

He hit the dial button on his phone and raised it to his ear hearing the sounds of the ringing go through.

“Hello?” The voice of the man came through.

“Meet me at the intersection. Tonight.”

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

Hyunjin sat at the bar, twirling the ice in his drink. He heard the sound of the door opening behind and grabbed the glass and took a sip of the liquor.

“Bourbon. Straight.” Hyunjin looked over as Minho took a seat down next to him.

“You called me rather late. What’s going on?”

“The only way out of through.” Hyunjin said and Minho looked at him confused.

“Huh”

“That’s what my father said to me when we left his office the other day, talking about your grandfather.” Minho’s drink slid over to him and he looked at it. Grabbing the glass as he remembered the day you three went to the Hwang mansion.

“What does he mean by that”

“Jeongin asked you, can you kill your grandfather?” Minho sat his glass down and looked at Hyunjin.

“You can’t be serious.”

“Can you?” Hyunjin reiterated.

“Hyunjin you don’t understand. Murdering that man would set a domino effect in the leadership. The network for us is incredibly powerful. Killing our grandfather would be a means of war, he leads the network for the family. No one knows that but me.” Minho turned and explained.

“We can’t avoid him.” Hyunjin pressured and Minho groaned as he looked away in frustration. Hyunjin continued

“Tell me that you believe if we play his game and hide Y/N he won’t find her. He won’t track her down? He won’t be suspicious? Tell me you really think that your grandfather wouldn’t catch on.”

“My family is my priority.” Minho stated.

“We’re family Minho. My child is your family. And our family is in danger.” Hyunjin pleaded and Minho looked back at his drink as he sighed heavily. There was silence that laid over the two before Minho spoke up again.

“I don’t expect you to know this. But, I have lived with guilt my whole life. He’s hurt her Hyunjin, in the worst of  ways. And I knew. Every goddamn time he took her to his office. She would be covered in bruises and cuts. She would cry every night and I would hear her. She needed me Hyunjin and I let her down time and time again. I never did anything.”

Hyunjin reflected Minho’s words. Things he never knew about you. All the years and all the deep dark moments you could never share. It saddened Hyunjin. He wished he could have held you in those hard times and every moment when you needed him more. But how could he have known?

“The only way out is through.” Minho said to himself bringing Hyunjin back.

“Can you kill him?” Hyunjin asked desperately.

“I can but..”

“But what?” Hyunjin cut Minho off and Minho was deep in thought.

“We have to catch him off guard. And Y/N can’t know.”

“Wouldn't she want him dead?” Hyunjin asked confused as to why you couldn’t know.

“She doesn’t realize it, but in the back of her mind, she has an attachment to him. One that she can’t break on her own.”

Hyunjin sat back and sighed and Minho continued to explain.

“He raised her, and made her who she is. No matter how much she may think she hates him, she can’t see a life where he is dead.”

“She gave me this by the way….” Minho reached in the back of his pocket and pulled out the note you had handed Minho a while ago for Hyunjin. He handed it to Hyunjin who took it and opened it up. Hyunjin’s eyes scanned over the words you had written. He felt his heart quench and his eyes grew hot and watery. It was a painful letter. It was painful for Hyunjin.

“She’s prepared to die..” Hyunjin whispered to himself and Minho clasped his hands and breathed out deeply.

“I will kill him, but Hyunjin when I take that shot…” Minho paused and Hyunjin turned his head.

“It’s war.”

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

Hyunjin grabbed the files off his desk and he walked over to the cabinet and placed the files in it. He heard the door of his office open and close and he turned around to find Chan standing there with sadden eyes, very tense demeanor.

“What are you doing here?” Hyunjin spat and walked towards his desk not looking at Chan.

“I came here to talk.” Chan took a step closer and Hyunjin snapped.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Hyunjin please listen.” Chan pleaded.

“No.” Hyunjin grabbed his suit jacket off his chair and began throwing it over his arms.

“Changbin told me about Y/N.” Hyunjin paused and turned to Chan and grabbed his gun and held it in his hand defensively.

“What did he tell you?” Hyunjin spoke clenching his jaw.

“That she’s pregnant ..” Hyunjin gripped his gun tighter and Chan looked at his hand.

“And in danger.”

Hyunjin began fuming and looked at Chan intensely until Chan sighed and kept talking.

“Hyunjin, helping Yeji my… that was selfish of me and I know you don’t forgive me but—“

“ I haven’t forgiven you Chan.” Hyunjin interjected.

“I’m sorry..” Chan began to let a few tears fall from his face softly.

“I want to set things right for you, for her, for..” Hyunjin looked at Chan and Chan shrugged sadly.

“Your baby.”

“How do I know I can trust you? How do I know this isn’t a set up and you’re gonna tell Yeji the plan or that you’re not working with Y/N grandfather?” Hyunjin through his gun up at Chan and Chan put his hands up in surrender as Hyunjin accused.

“I can’t ask you to trust me, I know I lost that from you.”

Hyunjin looked at Chan and felt broken. But the part of him that felt betrayed would let the gun come down.

“There’s a shelter.. a little home…. off the grid.” Hyunjin lowered his gun a bit as Chan was speaking.

“It was a place my father created in case he had to hide my family. It’s never been used.”

“Who knows about it?” Hyunjin stood back and withdrew his weapon.

“Only me. And now you.”

Hyunjin paused and took a deep breath as Chan lowered his hands.

“You can take her there, and you can have your baby there. It’s a good place Hyunjin. No one will find you.”

“Unless you tell someone.” Hyunjin muttered.

“I won’t.” Chan reassured and Hyunjin shook his head, “I don’t expect you to trust my word but I hope you take the offer. It’s the least I could do after everything.”

“Chan.” Hyunjin spoke and Chan stopped talking to let Hyunjin speak.

“Come with us. Come fight with us. Defend us. And then, I can trust you.” ********************************************************

Hyunjin and you sat in the car. He looked at you the whole time and watched you as you shook your leg and bit your thumb. You were anxious, nervous. It was today and Hyunjin knew it. He knew how it would all end. Your mind was so preoccupied with the what if’s and the unknowns you couldn’t find peace. Hyunjin wanted to take your hand and just tell you everything will be fine. Tell you that it will all be over. But it was a lie. You two were going to be fine and safe, but not forever. This didn’t end tonight, it was beginning.

I’m going in.” You unbuckle your seat belt and looked at Hyunjin. Hyunjin slid his hand over your cheek and behind your head as he pulled you into a kiss, one that felt so passionate, full of love, fear, lust. Like it was the last time you two would ever feel each other. He wanted to savor this peaceful moment one more time. He wanted you to know he was here in every way.

“Y/N” Hyunjin whispered against your lips. Your name brought him security and safety. You were everything he ever needed in his life and once you left that vehicle, nothing would be the same. But he needed you to know how he felt at that moment. Two souls as one.

“I love you.” Hyunjin said and you looked into his eyes. He didn’t want you to leave the car but you had to. You smiled softly at him.

You got out and shut the door as you began walking into the hospital. Hyunjin watched you to make sure you got inside before he saw a few black cars pull up next to the building. Hyunjin knew immediately that they had to be inside. They were waiting for her. Hyunjin started the car and began driving off to warn the others.

“They took her.”  Hyunjin bursted into the office and Minho jolted up out of his seat as he turned to Felix who looked back at him.

“It’s time.” Minho said and Felix nodded and got up and grabbed his jacket.

“Let’s go fuck shit up.” Felix said and left the room, heading to go round up the other boys.

Hyunjin stood there across from Minho as Minho looked back at him.

“So we are really doing this?” Hyunjin asked and Minho nodded his head.

“Better late than never.” Minho scoffed to himself and Hyunjin nodded as they both left the room.

“CARS READY.” Felix shouted by and Hyunjin found Minho's gun and grabbed it.

“You may need that.” Hyunjin laughed as he handed it to Minho. Minho looked at Hyunjin with a serious face.

“Remember, as soon as I fire that bullet.” Minho started.

“Get her out of there.” Hyunjin finished.

“Whatever happens Hyunjin. Please protect her.” Minho placed his hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder and Hyunjin nodded.

“With my life.”

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

“All three of you. In one vicinity. How delightful it is to see such a scene, and how pathetic it is to see the son of Hyun-woo sacrificing his life yet again for a woman.” Hyunjin clenched his jaw as he looked at you and you stared back. He was hard to read, something that never was difficult before. He looked busy in his mind, thinking about something deeply. You turned to Minho and he looked down at you as you tried to read him. Blank. You felt your heartbeat quicken and the pit of your stomach felt light. Where were they? Why were they not with you?

“Since I have you three here, I might as well use this to my advantage.” your grandfather stepped closer and looked at Minho.

“Shoot her.”

“Don’t you dare.” Hyunjin growled.

“Shoot her Minho.”

“Minho I swear to god, don’t you dare pull that trigger.”

“No?” Your grandfather looked at Hyunjin and he smiled at him. “ Then you pull it Hyunjin. Pull yours.”

You looked at the scene and felt tears brim your eyes. Nothing felt right and this was not the plan. You looked to Hyunjin and then Minho. Minho began to shake and you pleaded with your eyes.

“I don’t care who pulls the trigger, it means nothing to me. One of you has to die anyways…”

Those words sent chills down your spine. No matter the outcome, your grandfather felt no remorse if anyone were to die. It was painful, but not shocking. He ordered the death of your family and has no sense of guilt for what he has done. You bit your lip and almost felt like the plan would have caused nothing but more anger and pain. So maybe you would be okay if Minho pulled the trigger. Maybe this was the best thing for everyone.

“You heard him Y/N.” Minho said softly and you looked at him in fear as he cocked his gun back and you saw the light escape his eyes, full blown rage.

“One of us has to die.”

You closed your eyes, letting a tear run down your cheek as you heard the sound of the gun fire off.

Instant ringing.

You felt your heart slow and your head buzzed. You opened your eyes slowly and heard the drowning sound of Minho kneeling in front of you, screaming.

“Y/N. GET UP.” You looked at Minho confused as he cut you out of your restraints, Hyunjin behind him reaching for your arm. The sounds of guns began shooting off as you were pulled up from your knees, stumbling. You saw the boys in front shooting guns at the men on the sides, bodies falling as you dodged.

“COME ON LET'S GO.” Hyunjin grabbed your hand as you looked at him and he took you. You turned your head and watched Minho shoot back at people and your grandfather lying on the floor. Blood pooled his body and your eyes widened in disbelief. This wasn’t the plan.

All too quickly you saw Minho get struck with a bullet and fall back and you stopped in your tracks and pulled from Hyunjin’s grip.

“MINHO!” You screeched and began running back and Hyunjin turned and grabbed you around the waist as he pulled you back.

“Y/N, NO!” He screamed and you began to cry as you were carried away and saw Seungmin run to Minho’s body and kept shooting.

“LET’S GO!” You heard someone yell as men began retreating. Hyunjin brought you to the car and put you in as you felt your body go numb. Hyunjin ran to the drivers side and you saw cars with your cousins begin driving past you.

“We gotta go.” Hyunjin said as he started the car and began following the cars.

Your mind was in too many places. Nothing made sense. Your grandfather was dead. And Minho shot him.

Minho was shot.

“This wasn’t the plan.” You softly said and Hyunjin looked over to you and sighed.

“I know.”

You sat in the passenger seat and watched the cars in front. Your family was driving, Minho may be there. You had no idea what was happening but you were near your family at least.

Until the cars turned in different directions. Opposite ways and you and Hyunjin kept going forward. You turned your head back frantically as Hyunjin sped forward.

“My family.” You said and Hyunjin didn’t budge.

“Hyunjin... my family.” You looked at him as he kept his eyes in the road. You were growing frustrated and you grabbed his gun and aimed it at him.

“Hyunjin, stop the car.” You watched as he sighed and side eyed you and you cocked the gun back and screamed.

“STOP THE CAR!”

Hyunjin cursed and slammed on the brakes and you held yourself up from crashing into the front of the car.

Hyunjin opened his car door and got out as you watched in disbelief and got out of the car too. He walked around the front of the car and you kept going

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT HUH?! I TOLD YOU GUYS THE PLAN! YOU DIDN’T FOLLOW THE PLAN! WE NEED TO GO BACK. MY FAMILY IS IN DANGER. MINHO IS HURT. GRANDFATHER IS DEAD!

“Y/N.” Hyunjin said quietly as you were panicking and hitting your fists against his chest.

“THEY NEED ME. YOU WERE SUPPOSE TO SHOOT ME NOT HIM THAT WAS THE PLAN!”

Hyunjin pulled the white note out of his pocket and raised it in the air and yelled back.

“THIS Y/N!? THIS IS YOUR PLAN!?”

You stopped and looked at the note you had written for Hyunjin. He groaned and calmed down as you felt the tears fall from your face. He watched you and took your hand in his.

“What we did back there. That was the only way. That was the only way out.” Hyunjin told you as you shook your head.

“Hyunjin,  what you guys did back there… you just started a war. We are all in danger now. All of us, they won’t stop till I’m dead. Our baby Hyunjin, our baby is in danger. They won’t quit..”

“Y/N” Hyunjin clasps his hands over your cheeks and you look up at him in his eyes. He wiped your tears away.

“I’m taking you far away. A safe place where no one will find us and we can raise our child.”

“But my family and Minho..” you interrupted and Hyunjin wiped another tear.

“Will be fine. They know the plan. They know the risks. Your safety is their priority.”

You look down at your feet and Hyunjin lifted your chin back up to meet eyes and he kissed you softly. He slid his hand over your stomach and you grinned a bit. Hyunjin pulled back and looked at you again.

“This is my priority. You are my life. We are going to have this baby. And this child is a gift, a reason to start anew.”

You smiled and thought about his words as you raised your hands to caress his face and he smiled at you before leaning in to capture your lips in one last kiss.

Because this was the beginning to a new end. This was where you and the love of your life made a new start. This man, who you have loved for years. The person who makes your heart skip a beat when he walks in a room. He who made you feel safe and secured. From the moment you said ‘I do’ you knew that this man was your eternal. He was the one you couldn’t live life without. You two were cut from the same strand, two souls as one.

“I love you Hwang Y/N.” Hyunjin softly said against your lips, forehead pressed against your.

“I love you too, Hwang Hyunjin.”

A/N: hi everyone! i do apologize for the postponement. Thank you for your patience and love. I am doing very well and with family. Thank you ❤️ this is the end my loves. its bittersweet truthfully and i am very happy to have shared this story with you. As always let me know your thoughts and feelings. please stay tuned for my next series, Everlasting.

Taglist:   @hyunfeji @zenzedana @datura-inoxia @ninjaleeknow @beethiin @hyunsxle @hwangful @huntressfrost25 @exonations @p0t4t0don14ll​ @beaann @minaamhh

[gingerteaonthetardis]

Am I allowed to ask for another 🥺

In hopes of causing us both less pain… a song of your choice for Abedison but the song must be a multiple of ten! (I.e. 10, 20, 30, etc) 🥰

when i tell you i had to scroll to no. 30 to find a happy song... oof. anyway, literally every lyric of this song is them and i take no criticism at this time. hope you enjoy!

"i will take good care of you / i will take good care of you / everything you feel is good / if you would only let you"

(i will, mitski)

When Troy gets home, stepping cheerfully through the door of Apartment 303—well, he doesn't actually have the vocabulary to describe the scene he finds there.

But he tries.

"They were on the floor in front of the TV," he explains to Britta—because he can go to Britta with this kind of stuff, and she'll usually have something to say about it—over lunch. "And it was on, but they weren't watching it, which was the first clue that something was up. I mean, have you seen Abed when someone tries to talk over the television?"

"The thing where he hisses like a snake?"

"Yeah." Troy shivers. The last time he asked Abed to pause so he could go to the bathroom—an unscheduled break, as opposed to utilizing their built-in bathroom break system—it had been just a little bit scary, and he’d had nightmares about Voldemort for two whole days. This is also the kind of stuff he can go to Britta for.

But not Annie.

Annie just doesn't see it. Mostly because she doesn't really get that side of Abed, basically ever. Because if there's one thing Annie Edison's really good at, it's following—sometimes arbitrary, often ridiculous—rules. And Abed mostly functions on those.

(Also, he's pretty sure Abed's in love with her.)

"So, what were they doing, then?" Britta chews on the inside of her cheek, crossing her hands in front of her on the table. It’s a very professional, listening sort of look.

"Well," Troy says, breathing deeply, "they were just kind of sitting there, except Annie was soaking wet. Like, her hair was wet, like she'd been in the shower. And… and she—," and here, his voice lowers to a whisper, eyes darting erratically around the cafeteria for potentially spying parties.

(Actually, a spying party sounds really fun. He'll have to bring that one to Abed for the Dreamatorium.)

"—she was wearing Abed's Inspector Spacetime robe. Second clue."

Britta blinks. "You know that's just a normal bathrobe, Troy."

"Agree to disagree," he shrugs.

Something else occurs to her, and her eyes go wide enough to see the whites all the way around. "Oh my god. Troy, you don't think they actually, you know—"

She starts making a series of seriously confusing hand gestures. But he gets the picture. Probably.

"No!" Troy cries in alarm. "No, I don't think—no. But she was wearing his Inspector robe, Britta. And I don't think she had anything on… you know, underneath!" He knows he sounds scandalized, and that Britta—evolved, womanly Britta—will probably laugh at him for being scandalized, but he can't help it.

It feels like he's seen Nana Barnes in her underwear, only it's Annie and he's seen her—not in her underwear, exactly, but in clothes that aren't hers. It's an intimacy he doesn't know how to wrap his head around, multiplied by the fact of it being Abed's robe. Abed doesn't just share things like his Inspector Spacetime robe.

"Maybe she borrowed it after her shower," Britta reasons, very reasonably, instead of laughing at him. "She's borrowed his clothes before."

"She has?" Troy gapes. This is news to him.

"Yeah, I think so. I mean, mind you, the whole button-down cardigan thing is pretty gender neutral and they both basically dress like kindergarten teachers—"

"There's more!" Troy shakes his head, trying not to consider what his best friends could become with an army of crayon-eating six-year-olds at their behest. God, Kindergarten teachers. It's too terrifying to imagine.

"So, tell me."

"He was..."

How does he describe it? How does he explain the position they were in?

"Troy?" she asks, encouraging and just a touch impatient.

"Hewasbrushingherhair." He lets it out in one breath, choking a little at the end.

Britta's brows pull together. "What?"

"He was sitting—sort of, with his legs on either side of her? And Annie was cross-legged in the middle, and Abed was brushing her hair. But, like, really slowly. And she kept looking back over her shoulder to smile at him. Third clue." He can picture it so clearly, and knows he hasn't done any justice to the sheer strangeness of them being like that. Together, that close, with Annie looking so blissfully happy. Like actors on a small, invisible set.

That is, they're always close. Annie sits practically on Abed’s lap during movie nights, often choosing the armrest of his chair over the alternatives. They hold hands a lot—a lot—and touch all the time for basically no reason.

But never like this.

Troy adds the tidbit, "—and Abed was sort of humming," for flavor.

"Huh."

This is all Britta says for a long minute.

(Which isn't that different from a short minute, except Troy's tapping his toes by the end of it.)

And then: "Huh." Again.

Troy thinks of how he could make this more clear to her. He considers saying, "Remember when Abed was hanging out with you girls for a while? This was like that, but totally different, because it was just him with Annie and neither of them was being mean."

He turns over and then discards the words, "It's like how Annie always carries an extra lip balm around for Abed, because she knows he needs it, except it's not just her taking care of him—he's taking care of her back."

He definitely doesn't say, "I think they're both just basically good people, and a little bit broken. And Abed knows that's what all the best movies are about. So, maybe they're doing this big re-enactment and falling in love."

And he especially doesn't say, "Maybe this is good. Maybe they'll be happy."

(Mostly because he isn't sure about that.)

He just watches Britta's lips purse and un-purse and re-purse again, and reviews things in his head.

He'd assumed that Annie was still into Jeff, but maybe he was wrong.

He'd assumed that Abed just wasn't into human connection, but maybe he was wrong.

Troy’s been wrong before.

He thinks about his best friend untangling the ends of Annie's inky-dark, ropey-wet hair with his fingers, keeping them busy with a kind gesture. He thinks of his other best friend sighing happily and leaning back, because she knows somebody is there to catch her.

Troy thinks he knows love when he sees it, and maybe this isn't a mystery after all. Maybe there was nothing to see, and that's what freaked him out so much. The everydayness. How normal it looked. Maybe he’s just having trouble accepting that he’d missed this, somehow.

(He's pretty proud of this moment of introspection and self-awareness. Britta's been working on it with him.)

Finally, she stops doing thoughtful facial contortions and shrugs. "Well, I guess that's nice," Britta says, with that extremely cool nonchalance he so admires. "I mean, it doesn't really mean anything, probably, but—good for them."

Maybe not. But Troy thinks otherwise.

Lip balm and blanket forts. Sitting close when you don't have to. He's no Inspector, but he can put the pieces together.

(He is the first to do so.)

[elvish-sky]

That Oblivious {Legolas x Reader}

A.N: This one was ridiculously fun to write! I got to incorporate one of my favorite little tropes that I’ve always wanted to put in a fic. Thank you very much for this request, Anon. I hope you enjoy it!

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: helloo! I'm not sure this is the right way to do this, (please tell me if it isn't and how to do it properly, and sorry!!) but may i request a legolas x reader where the reader is part of the fellowship, and merry and pippin make their mission to get them together because they noticed how they feel for each other? take your time and thank you!!

Word Count: 1,521

Pairing: Legolas x Reader

Summary: Noticing the connection between you and Legolas, Merry and Pippin attempt to get you to realize your feelings for each other.

Warnings: Some insinuations, fluff

****

That Oblivious

“Pip! Have you noticed that?” Merry had run up alongside Pippin, returning after walking behind you and Legolas.

“Notice what?” Pippin was confused. He hadn’t seen any mushrooms, and no one else had done anything even mildly amusing in several days. To tell the truth, Pippin was beginning to get bored.

“Well,” Merry had that glint in his eyes that meant he was planning something. “I was behind Y/N and Legolas, and they were talking about archery and elves, rather boring things if you must know. However, they do seem like they might be good together. I think we should set them up!”

Pippin perked up. “I like that idea!” He thought back over the last several weeks with the Fellowship, remembering the glances one of you had snuck at the other when you didn’t think anyone would notice. How whenever you were going on and on about something boring, Legolas would be rapt with attention, and when he cooked you were always the first to praise his skills, even though they were rather mediocre.

“The only issue is, I’m not sure they know that they’ve fallen in love. This is going to take some work.” Merry was ready, though. He, like Pippin, had been getting tired of the mundane regularity of the journey.

“Alright then. Where should we begin?”

Merry slung his arm over his friend’s shoulders. “I was thinking we could start small.”

Coming back to the campsite with armfuls of firewood, you plopped it down next to the fire, and turned, wanting to go grab something from your pack. To your surprise, your stuff was not where you had placed it earlier.

“Y/N?” Legolas called to you from the other side of the clearing. “Why is your stuff next to mine?”

You jogged over to him to see that your bedroll had, in fact, been placed right next to his, and your packs were side-by-side. “I have absolutely no idea. I did not put it there.” You shrugged. “It seems like a pain for one of us to move, let us just stay here.” The elf nodded, and you went back to building the fire. Neither of you noticed the two hobbits congratulating themselves in the background, pleased that the first part of their plan had worked.

You awoke the next morning to the soft sound of breathing in your ear. Surprised, you jerked into a sitting position, and the arm slung across your body flopped back onto the owner. His legs, however, were still slightly entwined with yours.

“Legolas?” You were shocked to find yourself sleeping, snuggling, really, with the elf. He blinked awake, “Y/N? What- why are we sleeping together?”

You shook your head. “I honestly do not know. I woke up, and we were like this. Well, except your arm was around my waist, too.” He was blushing like mad, now. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. Our bedrolls were close together last night and somehow we must have shifted closer, and I’m a snuggler when I sleep…” He was rambling now.

“It’s ok, Legolas.” You were laughing at him at this point. “I did not mind, and it is not like we did anything wrong!”

“Ok.” He looked sheepish. “Shall we not speak of this to anyone else?”

You agreed and shook his hand to seal the deal. Rising, you separated your bedding and packed it up, then going around and waking everyone up to start the day. Hidden from your view, Merry and Pippin had been perched in a tree and seen you and Legolas sleeping.

“I cannot believe that did not work!” Merry was disappointed. “Do not worry, Merry! We still have many more plans to get to!” Pippin was rubbing his hands together in excitement. Clambering down the tree, the two hobbits pretended to come from the direction of their bedrolls, yawning as they walked over to you and Legolas.

“Morning, Y/N, Legolas! How did you sleep?” Merry was going to have a little fun with this and stifled a chuckle as the two of you looked everywhere except at each other.

“That was ridiculous.” Merry was furious as he plopped down on a rock next to Pippin. They had spent most of the day walking trying to put you and Legolas in situations where you’d realize. They had tripped you to make you fall into Legolas’ arms so many times that Aragorn was worried you might have a balance issue, and Legolas was worried about Pippin’s eyes given the amount they’d winked at him.

“We shall not give up yet!” Pippin was still very determined. “I have a plan.”

“Pip, your last six plans have not worked. It might be time to give up.” Merry was rubbing his forehead in exasperation.

“Nope! This time it’ll work, trust me.” Pippin was dead set on success.

Meanwhile, you were down at the stream with Legolas, Frodo, and Sam, washing off in the water. The males had kept their trousers on, and you had your chest wrappings and underthings to cover yourself, but the rest of the clothing was lying in piles on the rocks. As you were washing your hair, Frodo and Sam got out of the water and, after redonning their shirts, made their way back to the campsite. You were left alone with Legolas, and it was a little awkward, but fine. After rinsing your hair off, you turned back to the shoreline, intending to get your clothes and go warm up at the fire.

Your clothes, along with the elf’s, were gone.

“Legolas!” His head whipped towards you, water spraying as his wet hair moved. “Where are our clothes!” As he looked towards where they should have been, you could see his eyes widen. “I don’t know! I bet someone took them as a joke.”

“Well, we should go back to the campsite and see if any of our companions know of their whereabouts.” You exited the water, dripping without anything to dry yourself on, and rather cold in the night air. Legolas, emerging next to you, was determinedly not looking at your glistening body, how the drops of water ran along your smooth skin, how the soaked wrappings on your chest left little to the imagination and your underthings clung to your skin. You, in turn, were trying not to focus on how the soaked fabric of his trousers on his legs clearly outlined all his muscles, accentuating his already apparent strength.

Each trying to not stare at the other, you stomped back into the campsite to see your clothes lying next to Merry and Pippin by the fire. Stomping over to them, rather embarrassed to be this undressed out of the water in front of the whole group, you grabbed your trousers, yanking them on, and pulled your tunic over your head.

“Why did you steal our clothes?” You were mad. Very mad. And, judging by the expression on Legolas’ face, he was too.

“In our defense, you weren’t supposed to just come right back when you found out your clothes were gone,” Pippin muttered. “What?” Legolas, with his keen elven ears, had heard him. “What else would we have done?” You were confused and didn’t notice the smirks on the faces of everyone else around the fire. Pippin was about to retort but thought better of it. Instead, he and Merry came and sat across from the two of you as the rest of the Fellowship looked on. You were a little worried by the seriousness on the two hobbits’ faces.

“Y/N, Legolas, we have something to tell you.” Merry was a little exasperated, but Pippin looked as if he was desperately trying to hold in his excitement.

“What?” You gestured apprehensively for them to continue.

“Y/N, you are in love with Legolas.” Merry looked delighted with himself after speaking. An immediate guffaw was heard from Boromir, seeing where they were going with this. You, meanwhile, were processing this statement in shock.

“And you, Legolas, are in love with Y/N.” Pippin looked just as pleased with himself as Merry had.

You and Legolas were sitting there, shellshocked. You came to a conclusion first.

“By the Valar. I am in love with Legolas!”

“And, somehow without my knowledge, I’ve fallen in love with Y/N!”

The twin looks of shock on your faces were too much for the rest of the Fellowship, after attempting to hold it in, they all collapsed, laughing.

“What kind of confession did we just witness?!” Aragorn was possibly dying of laughter.

Boromir agreed. “How can two beings possibly be that oblivious?!”

Ignoring them, you looked into the eyes of the elf. “You love me? Really?”

He nodded. “It snuck up on me, but yes. I do.”

“I love you too, Legolas.”

He lifted his arm with a delighted expression, gesturing for you to scooch closer. Doing so, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you into him. You rested your head on his shoulder, content to sit there with him and watch your friends roll around on the forest floor, still consumed with laughter.

Everything tag 💞: @entishramblings @boyruins @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1 @hey-its-nonny

Legolas tag: @sheriffgerard

[malebodysuittf]

The Wrapping

In my last story, I wanted to write a dark thriller-ish story with a villainous protagonist, but I wanted this story to be a whole lot more wholesome (though still devious) for the holidays! It’s kind of silly and not as hot tbh, but hopefully it’s kind of fun for someone. It’s been one hell of a year, so here’s to a better 2021. Merry Christmas, and Happy Holidays y’all! Stay safe, and make sure no one you’re close to is plotting to suitify you! ;)

edit: Oh crap, I totally forgot to post this yesterday! Here it is though, my message stays the same! 

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I sighed as I listened to the mundane tapping of fingers on keyboards, nails hitting the desk, pens clicking. Over and over, my head rang with the same sounds throughout the morning. No one who was here wanted to be here. Except perhaps my boss. That piece of shit put us all to work instead of giving us the holidays off. Only reason he might be happy to be here is probably because, if his wife has been hearing any of the rumors regarding his interactions with the female employees of our company, I’m assuming their marriage is disastrous.

I thought I’d be able to relax at home, spend Christmas with my boyfriend, Craig. We’ve been together for a couple of years now, and this was our first year living together. Our first Christmas spent together. The last one, we had both flown home to see our parents, splitting up. 

But of course, my piece of shit boss had called me up. Told me to come in and work...subtly threatened unemployment if I objected. I wanted to quit right  then and there, but money was tight and I knew how much Craig and I could use the cash. I had to break the news to Craig, but he was understanding. He promised that we’d open up presents tonight, or we’d open them up tomorrow if I was too tired. It was heartwarming to hear the support loved one, but made the act of going to work the next day no less grueling. 

“Hey Lance, you get that call from boss too?” I jumped at the sound of my name being called and turned to see my coworker and one of the few friends I’ve made in the office, Trevor. He was a good lookin’ guy, though he only had a frustrated face at the moment. 

“Yeah. Fucking ridiculous.”

“Right? Sick of this fucking job. Frankly, I’m not even sure what I fucking do at this point,” he joked. A hint of a smile popped up on his face. He slapped me on the arm and got up, heading towards the bathroom. I closed my eyes and imagined what I’ll do with Craig. It was the only thing that could motivate me to keep up with my work. 

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

Hours later, the sun was setting and an orange hue painted the sky. It was a surprisingly beautiful sunset, considering it was Christmas. I finally finished my work. I watched the tired people around me cleaning up their desks, disgruntled and ready to go home. I glanced over at Trevor’s desk and noted he was still missing...weird. I hadn’t seen him the entire day ever since he left to go to the restroom. I guessed he had wisened up and just left. I sure as hell wish I could afford to...I know Trevor came from a pretty wealthy background. But at least I could finally find some respite with the end of the day approaching. 

Until I saw the secretary walking to my desk. 

She placed her hands on my desk and looked me in the eye, almost remorsefully. 

“Mr. Campbell would like to speak to you.”

My heart sunk as I realized I’ll be spending more time in this shithole instead of celebrating the holidays with my boyfriend. I slumped in my chair and nodded to the secretary. She left me and I cleaned my act up. Surely it must be something quick, right? I couldn’t imagine him calling me in at the end like this for any reason. 

Walking over to Mr. Campbell’s office, I opened the door and saw my dapper boss staring at me intimidatingly. 

“Hello, Lance. I’m sure this little meeting may come as a surprise. Take a seat, won’t you?” He motioned towards a chair opposite from his desk, while seating himself in a larger one. 

“I know you might be a little confused as to why I called you in. But let me assure it’s nothing bad.” He smiled at me, something I had never seen before on his face. He always looked menacing and unwelcoming. But right in this moment, something seemed different. 

“I just wanted to give you this for being an outstanding part of this office. You’ve always been productive and loyal to this business. You deserve proper compensation. Especially for coming in on Christmas.”

From behind his desk, he pulled out a fairly large box, wrapped in a snowman-covered paper, perhaps the size of my torso, and slid it across the desk. I cautiously took the box, wondering what the catch was. There was no way he decided to just randomly give me this out of kindness or gratefulness. Not Mr. Campbell. This is the abusive boss who makes people work on Christmas, threaten their jobs and their records, and, allegedly, numerous women have quit and spoken up on him firing them if they did not oblige to sexual favors. On top of that, why the hell is he only giving this to me? Still, he was my boss for now, and I had to appeal to him.

“...Er, thanks, Mr. Campbell. I appreciate the gift. I’ll make sure-”

“Why don’t you open it?”

“Right here? Right now?”

“Yes. Open it. I want you to see it.”

Confused, I still obeyed and started to rip the wrapping paper off. I glanced up to give the boss an acknowledging smile as I lifted the lid up. I found a folded up suit and tie, along with pants.

“Clothing, Mr. Campbell?” I tried to feign gratitude with a hesitant smile.

“Keep going.” 

I lifted the clothing and saw an ID on top of a peach colored object. On the ID, I saw a picture of...Trevor. A chill ran across my spine as I felt the peace colored object...it felt like skin. I pulled it out and lo and behold...it was Trevor in the form of a flimsy suit. 

“Is this some kind of...costume?” The thing gave me the creeps, but I couldn’t defy my curiosity. 

“You could say that.”

“Was that...you earlier then?”

A grim glare shot across Mr. Campbell’s face. “No.”

“Then...what did you do to Trevor?” My voice quivered as a ton of horrific scenes ran through my head. 

“It was just an injection. Don’t worry, he’ll be fine.” He pulled out what looked like pink stickers. “All you do is slap these magic tags on, and he’ll be restored within an hour. Sorry to alarm you.” 

A sigh of relief escaped my mouth, until Mr. Campbell said, “Why don’t you put him on right now?” 

“What? Right here? I don’t even know-”

“Take your clothes off. Stretch open the mouth. You can figure out the rest.” 

Something told me I didn’t have a choice. I laid the suit on the floor and started to pull out of my clothing, tossing it over the chair. I grabbed the Trevor suit and dipped my toes into the mouth. Surprisingly, it was soft and comfortable. I slipped into the legs and did a few test jumps. Mr. Campbell observed closely as the suit matched my form. I squeezed my way into the rest of the suit before pulling the face over my own, before a painful ache rushed through my body. Suddenly, a lifetime of memories flooded my mind. I recalled feeling a prick in the neck before everything went black...I wasn’t exactly sure what to say to Mr. Campbell.

“Is there something you would like me to do with this?” Trevor’s voice escaped my throat! It was like I was him entirely. But why did Mr. Campbell want me in this suit? I was confused on what to do now. I stood there awkwardly, naked with an admittedly sexier body. Mr. Campbell walked around his desk and came up to me.

“Why don’t you unwrap your second present?” He grabbed my crotch, though I immediately relented and backed up.

“I’m sorry Mr. Campbell, but I’ve got a boyfriend, and frankly, this is a little weird...”

“Don’t you want to provide for him?” I gulped, knowing my job was on the line. Craig would understand, he always does.

I started to unbutton Mr. Campbell’s jacket and slid it off of him. The white button-up was already partially open, displaying the man’s hairy chest. Despite how awful my boss was, I confessed I considered him an attractive man. I pulled off the shirt and was down to his pants. I looked at him, unsure if he wanted me to go all the way. He nodded, urging me to take it all off. I unbuckled his belt and slid it out, the pants visibly loosened and slipped down with ease. I looked up for another nod of approval before removing his shoes and socks, smelling the subtle rankness of his feet. Finally, i slipped his underwear down, and a lengthy member dropped in front of me. I examined the man in front of me, up and down. Were these the kind of sexual favors my boss wanted? Was he interested in men? 

“Why don’t you keep going?” 

I raised an eyebrow at him, dumbfounded. “What?” 

“Keep going.” He walked closer to me, sensually looking me in the eye. 

I couldn’t quite grasp what he meant, until he tugged at his cheek, revealing something else inside. I rubbed Mr. Campbell’s face and he closed his eyes, groaning in pleasure. Slowly tracing down his face, I hooked my fingers under his lips and started to stretch the mouth open. I could feel the scruffy facial hair move under my fingers as I tugged at his face, the face distorting as a familiar face was revealed under Mr. Campbell’s face.

“Craig?” I was absolutely speechless as I slipped off the entire face of my boss. The upper half of the face landed in a heap behind him, while the chin lay across his chest. I backed up in shock at the spectacle before me! 

Craig gave me a devious smile and started to rip the skin off of himself. Still using Mr. Campbell’s hands, he grabbed at the mouth around his neck and started to pull. As he did, the skin started to give, and he started to rip it off, like wrapping. Truly like a Christmas gift! The face split in half and he tugged towards his left arm. With a forceful motion, the arm sleeve ripped right off and he tossed it towards onto the desk, the fingers hanging over the side as they flopped around. He continued to rip the other side off as the suit seemingly got shredded. With the torso hanging over his hip, the torn up skinsuit hung onto the cock in pieces, the face hanging by the side while the right hand of the suit laying flatly on the ground. Craig heaved as he pulled the rest of it off violently, further shredding the skin until it lay as a mess on the floor. He picked up it and slung the mangled skinsuit onto the desk.

“Merry Christmas, babe!” He held me by my hips and kissed me.

“Craig, what the hell is this?” 

“I bought us some of these serums, and figured they would make a nice gift. I didn’t originally plan to use it on these guys in specific, but when you got that call and told me about your shitty boss...I figured we could get a bit of revenge. Plus, you’ve told me about Trevor being hot. So I figured, why the hell not?” 

“But what about Mr. Campbell? You ripped him up!”

“Don’t worry, trust me, some tape and those little sticker things he showed...he’ll be back. And he’ll be humbled.”

He went back behind the desk and pulled out a paper and slid it over to me. I skimmed through it...this was a document giving the company to me!

“Oh my God! What the fuck? This is...”

“Yep. I always said you’d make a great leader. And whenever your coworkers come by to hang out with us, you have no clue what they say about you. They’re gonna love you. And Mr. Campbell over here, signed the document. Hopefully, he takes the time off to reimagine himself as a better man. All you gotta do is sign it yourself.” He rolled a pen over and I held it within my hand. I scoured through Trevor’s thoughts, and he had said some of the sweetest things about me, and his conversations with our colleagues suggested that maybe I could be the one  to make this shithole better. I brought the pen to the paper and voila, my signature was on it.

“You get to be the boss now, Lance.” Craig got up and came to embrace me. I was too stunned at everything happening to give him much of a response. “You can make this place so much better next year. But for now, why don’t we enjoy that sexy suit you’re in?” He started to kiss me, and I returned the favor. I pulled back for a second and looked Craig in the eyes.

“This is the best Christmas ever...Why don’t I give you my present now?” I gave him a suggestive look, rubbing up against against him. I pushed him down across the desk and whispered into his ear, “I love you, babe. Merry Christmas.”