#sobbing over them internally all hours of the day

[battii-art]

Rhapsodies and Requiems

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Nineteen

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader AO3 - 3.2k words Tags: 18+ mdni. nurse!reader. Pregnancy and things that come with it. PTSD, anxiety, despair, depression. A lot of internal monologue.

“I need to borrow your car.” Marshall’s eyebrows shoot straight up into his hairline.

“Excuse me?”

“Your car.” You spit, barely containing the tremble in your voice. Your throat is tight, hundreds of thousands of pounds sitting on top of your chest, crushing you, your heart. “Marshall-“

“I’m confused why you think I’d let you borrow my car.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, the thin shred of patience you’ve been holding onto finally ripping apart.

“I have put up with you for years. I have dealt with your shit, your relentless pursuit of anything that walks, your lack of interest in your own patients. I have covered for you. I have babysat for you. You owe me.” He blinks, and then pats his pocket, scrutinizing your expression.

“Are you okay?” You glitch for a second. The orchestrated denial, evasion slips away as you grapple with his question. You’ll never be okay. Never.

It snaps back like a rubber band. Like a backhand across your face.

“I’m fine.” You’re not fine. You’re drowning. You’re at the bottom of a well, stone walls cracking and crumbling at your feet. “Keys.” He drops them into your outstretched palm with a sigh. “You can pick it up at the south station in a few hours, okay?”

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yes…” A plan is still rapidly taking shape, forming from bits and pieces of roads laid out before you. “My mother is sick, and not answering the phone. I’m worried, trying to get over there as soon as I can.” He nods, unphased by the glaringly obvious hole in your lie.

“Of course.”

You have no one to blame but yourself.

The girl in the mirror blinks back at you with judgement in the quiet of the bathroom. She regards you with disgust.

Foolish.

Hot water flows over your knuckles, your palms. It burns, too hot to be sensible, scorching your skin.

It’s pain you deserve.

This is the only time you’ll give yourself for now, the only time you’ll break until it’s safe again.

You shatter to pieces. You scream into your hands, sobs cracking your ribs, cleaving you apart.

It was all a lie.

And you’re the one who fell for it. You’re the one who believed it was real, that they were true. You believed you could walk in the sun, and you only have yourself to blame.

You try to burn their faces from your mind, incinerating your memories to ash. Johnny’s eyes, his easy smile, the lilt of his accent when he’d say your name. Simon’s low murmurs and comfort in the dark, the way they molded themselves around you, held you.

They tricked you, but they made it so real, so believable. So sweet as they wrapped you up in a web, dripped poisoned honey into your mouth from their own.

Lies. They’re full of lies.

Steam rises from the bowl of the sink, and you look yourself in the face again. You stare at the woman who allowed herself to be manipulated, who gave herself to two people who only sought to harm her.

But-

They gave you a gift, didn’t they? They gave you this chance.

Your palm hovers over your stomach, and you fill your lungs with oxygen.

Get it together. Get yourself together.

Your world crumbles beneath your feet, but you’ve done this before. You’ll do it again. Better, even, now with the stakes so high, higher than you could ever imagine.

You can do this.

Deep breath.

The foundation of your resolve cracks when you step through the front door and Penny comes padding down the hall with her arms up.

You meet her in a crouch, letting her cuddle you, small fingers twisted in your scrub top. “Hey Penny girl. How’s your day, huh?” She signs something and then points to the living room before smiling.

“Bocks.”

You retreat into yourself, burying the lump in your throat, swallowing your tears. “I love you; you know that?” You lick your thumb and wipe the corner of her mouth. “So much.” Lou clears her throat from the hallway, watching with a strange expression.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just tired, and forgot my work backpack.” You had forgotten how easy it is, to lie. How easy the mask slides on. It’s almost nonchalant, a practiced art.

You retreat upstairs before she can question you further.

In a sewn in pocket of a backpack shoved under the guest bed, is a cellphone. It’s a flip phone, old and clunky, always charged, but almost always off, except when it’s needed. Programmed with a single contact, a pre written text already in the drafts.

I’m moving again. I’ll keep you posted.

The response is always the same. Be safe.

There are too many items in your life now. Too many objects, too many things, and too little time to pick through them.

You stick to your rules. Pack light and easy. You can replace anything left behind once you’re somewhere safe. Nothing frivolous, self-indulgent, or even sentimental.

It’s tempting to take a permanent marker and scribble fuck you across their bathroom mirror, tempting to take a knife to the mattress and slice it to shreds. It’s tempting to rip their clothes to pieces, to soak their life in lighter fluid and strike a match. The anger pulses in your veins like poison, knowing you could never.

Even now, the idea of them hurting makes you feel sick.

Fool, you’re a fool. A silly, stupid girl who got caught up in a fairytale with no sense to save herself.

You take one last long look at the bed. The bed where you thought you were safe, the place where your nightmares eventually turned to dreams.

Tears burn at the back of your eyes, and it takes everything you have to stay upright.

Phillip terrorized you, beat you black and blue, stole your future, your life-

but it never hurt as bad as this.

Marshall’s car is, of course, is expensive. Something out of a fancy television commercial. It’s comfortable, fast, and drives smoother than butter.

It reminds you of Phillip. Of all the luxury and riches surrounding him, the mile high leg up he had since the day he was born. His entire existence carefully crafted and honed into something out of a nightmare, the mask of a monster slipping on and off as easily as yours.

You used to wonder if money really did buy happiness before you met him, and then you learned. Some people crave more. Some people crave violence. Destruction.

There’s no happiness for those who are rotten to the core, their souls as dark as night, their desires putrid and inhumane.

You never saw it with them, in them. You never felt it, the way you felt it in Phillip. They fooled the wariest heart.

Will your child be like them? Deceitful? Evil?

Will it be nature versus nurture?

The first piece of the puzzle is figuring out where to go, how far to run. You need a city or a town big enough to hide in, a hospital that’s in desperate need of nurses, and a flat that’s available immediately. No smaller islands in case you need a quick escape, no countries where you may struggle with the assimilation. Accessible by train. Primarily English speakers.

You briefly dream about something tropical and warm with a beach before you shake the thought loose in favor of the city that’s always been on your short list.

Edinburgh.

It’s painfully kismet, knowing you’ll bring your child to one of their father’s birthplaces, fitting in a sick, senseless way, but you have no choice. You vetted the city in the past, scoped out appropriate neighborhoods, chose a potential workplace. It’s been at the top of your list.

It’s the logical option.

The air is cold. It stings the tip of your nose, your ears, isolates your exhales and turns them into white puffs of fog. Your jacket is too light, too soft for this kind of weather, representative of all the clothing you have in your backpack, and your wallet weeps at the idea of a brand-new wardrobe.

Still, you don’t cry. The tears don’t come, they’re held back by an iron clad dam, an impenetrable fortress built around your heart. People move around where you’re stuck still on the platform, a round rock in the middle of a river, surfaced smoothed by the repeated flow of water.

That’s what you are.

A smooth surface, a still pond, a tranquil lake. Cohesion in its ultimate form, hydrogen bonds clinging to one another, casting a tightly knit net of water molecules over the whole of your being. Lies upon lies meshed to create perfection, an unblemished nurse, an agreeable personality, an overall uninteresting but more than perfunctory person. Forgettable.

Step off the platform, into the street. Slip beneath the surface, swim to the bottom, pack yourself away and assume your new life, new name, new existence, the glass surface hiding a turbulent sea.

Things fall into place. You get hired on the spot and find a great apartment almost immediately. Better than great, if you’re honest. It’s a generously sized two-bedroom, freshly painted, no landlord specials in sight.

“What do ye think?” You wince. The accent pulls a string, tugs on a chord buried deep.

“I’ll take it. I can give you three months’ rent up front,” you survey the locks, “if you can add a deadbolt.” The door only has a keypad lock, the fancy new kind touchscreen kind. You don’t trust them. The wires are too easy to manipulate. He cocks his head.

“Shouldnae be a problem.” He’s looking closely now, too closely, and you flash a smile.

“Thanks. I’m a bit paranoid, you know? New city, can’t be too careful.”

“O’ course.”

“So… how far along are ye?” You choke on the dry piece of scone in your throat.

“Sorry?”

“The bairn?” She points to your belly, and you shift the hospital issued zip up hoodie over your waist. Her face softens. “Don’t worry, I willnae tell.” You haven’t disclosed the pregnancy to your boss yet, trying to wait it out as long as possible to prevent getting fired, still holding onto hope that no one will notice. It’s common practice, something women around the world try to manage, tiptoe around until the last second. Sisterhood, you guess.

“Almost twenty weeks.”

“About halfway then.” Her name is Ally, you think, or with an ie, Allie maybe. She’s a float, the worst position in the hospital, and your envy is nowhere to be found. You’d rather work peds than be in her shoes.

“Yup.” The p pops on your lips apprehensively. Being noticed is a problem. You can’t lose this job, not after the all the energy and effort you’ve expended to make this place home. The apartment you’ve slowly furnished, the baby’s room you’ve now painted, all the broken pieces starting to fall into place.

“Boy or girl?”

“I don’t know.” You manage a weak smile. “I’m gonna wait, I think. Leave it as a surprise.” She claps her hands.

“That’s the best! I have two and did it the same way. It’s so fun.” The conversation wanes, her expression shifting into sympathy. “If ye ever need anything, I’m around. Okay?” Your jaw clenches.

It’s a reminder of how alone you really are. How you have no one to depend on, no one to go to, nothing holding you up. The extension of a helping hand almost brings you to tears, and you whisper with true gratitude.

“Thank you.”

You lose hold of the strings stitching you together as you stare at parts and pieces spread out around your knees, screwdriver abandoned, instructions crumpled up and tossed to the corner.

The ache in your heart is physically spreading. It’s crumbling your weary bones to dust, zapping your strength and resolve away until there’s only despair, desperation left in its wake. You press the heels of your hands into your eyes, trying to stem the loss of the control, the tears slipping down your cheeks. “I can’t do this.”

It’s the first time you’ve admitted defeat, and your arms fall limp before wrapping around your belly. “I can’t. I can’t do it.” The words are stifled by gut wrenching sobs, the wave of hopelessness washing over you like a wall of water intent on destruction.

How will you do this alone?

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, slowly stroking over the curve of your bump, rocking back and forth. “It’s just you and me little sunbeam, and I- I don’t know how to do this. I’m going to mess it up.” That’s the crux of it, the heaviness weighing on your shoulders. You’re going to fail. You don’t know how to be a mom, you never imagined doing all this alone.

You wish they were here, you want them here, against all better judgement, and as you lay down on the carpet in the baby’s room, you close your eyes and allow indulgence, a fantasy where you’re not alone. Where you’re curled up on the couch between them, safe and warm. They tell you they love you, assure you how good of a job you’re doing, how wonderful of a mom you’ll be. A dream where they would hold you, wipe your tears, hold their hands to your belly to feel the baby kick. You’d experience all the firsts together, watch Penny become a big sister together, go through all of the highs and lows together.

The fantasy falls away as the cold creep of dread drags you back to reality.

They don’t love you.

They never did.

Your dreams are just that, dreams. Made up nonsense that never existed in the first place.  

Something is wrong.

His knees flex on the bench, attention fixated on the giant sliding doors at the entrance of the hospital.

He’s unsettled. It’s a rare feeling, but Phillip fucking Graves appearing in the hallway today like a nightmare that never goes away has thrown him off kilter.

“Have a man in surgery here. Flown in on a medivac this morning.”

He threw a barb at Johnny immediately after, a comment in jest, but there was something unusual about the glint in his eye.

It was a shine Simon recognized well. The ripple of a hunter, on a scent track of prey.

You’re ten minutes late now, but it’s not unheard of. You rarely, if ever, get out on time.

It never concerns him, except for today. A cloud lingers overhead, caliginous and heavy with rain, waiting for the right moment to change everyone’s day, to spoil it all.

It’s a bad sign, and he doesn’t know why.

When the clock hits twenty minutes past, he texts you.

No response.

He texts again.

No response, again.

When he calls, the phone doesn’t ring. He tries a second time, and then a third, before shoving it into his pocket and stalking inside to the information desk, conveniently placed right in front of the double doors.

“I need a visitor pass.” He towers over the poor girl behind the counter, and she blanches. “For the ICU. I have a family member up there.”

“O-okay.”

There’s only one person at the nurses’ station, a man, a doctor, who is regarding him with cold curiosity as Simon comes striding over, your name on his lips.

“Wait… you’re one of the boyfriends, right?” His tags reads ‘MD’ with his first initial and last name. J. Marshall. He holds his hands up in surrender. “I don’t know where she is. She ran out of here hours ago.”

“What?”

“Yeah. Asked to borrow my car and everything, said she…” He’s still talking, but nothing is registering. There’s a high-pitched frequency ringing in the back of  Simon's head, a whine turning to a roar, a tinny sound making the backs of his eyes hurt.

He leans into Marshall’s face, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt. “Where did she say you could pick it up?”

“S-south station. Get the fuck off me-“ Simon shoves him backward, sending him flying on the rolling chair he was lounging in. “I’m calling security!”

“Don’t bother.” Simon doesn’t look back. By the time the call connects, he’s already on the first floor and almost out the door.

“She came home in the middle of the day.” Johnny’s pacing, hands in his hair, ignoring Simon’s pleas to sit down, calm down. “Lou said she seemed off.”

“Something must have spooked her.” He accedes, staring at a spot on the wall, trying to put it all together. You wouldn’t have run without a reason. After everything, after all this time spent together, building trust, building love, a relationship, it’s the one thing he knows for certain. You’re in danger, he can feel it.

Johnny stumbles, careening to the side, and Simon darts forward, tugging him into his chest, nose in his hair. His breath catches, once, twice, before it breaks into a wet cough, a cracked cry caught in his throat, crestfallen and agonized, and Simon tries to soothe him. “We’ll find her.” They have to, there’s no other option, no other paths that don’t lead to you.

“She’s out there alone,” Johnny shakes his head, “she’s in danger, she must be.” He knows it just as Simon does, knows you like he knows each line in Simon’s palm.

“We’ll find her love, we will.” The rest of it hovers in the air between them, the painful acknowledgment that maybe they’re not so different from your abuser, maybe they’re no better than the man who brutalized you. They’d chase you across oceans, across the globe to bring you home. They’d use all their resources, manipulate systems, act with violence, to see you again. To hold you.

“What if she doesnae want us to find her? What if…”

“That’s not why she left.” Simon’s resolute in his denial of the possibility. You haven’t run away from them. You ran from something, someone, hunting you. “We’ll fix it.”

It’s been six weeks since they’ve seen you.

Six weeks since they’ve seen your smile, the thing they worked so hard to earn, the curve of your lips that you graciously gifted them along with your trust. Six weeks, since they’ve heard your laugh, held your hand, rolled over and felt the heat of your body between them in bed.

The hallway is full of doors, but none of them lead to you.

Their smart girl, so clever, a fox in the woods, a master of camouflage, of stealth. Or, as Kate said-

your girl is ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse?

In these moments, the quiet dark ones where Johnny stares at the ceiling in bed, he wonders if you’re more. If you held out on them, this whole time, if there’s something else.

It’s ridiculous, he knows that, but the ache in his heart demands answers, explanations, things he can’t provide.

“Close your eyes sweet boy.” Simon kisses his neck, thumb stroking circles into his collarbone.

“She’s out there somewhere, Si, on her own.” His voice cracks, Simon’s arms tighten.

“I know.” A phone buzzes on the nightstand, and Johnny jolts, heart leaping in his chest.

It’s a text from Kate.

>Finally got the footage.

[hotpinkstars]

LOST POSSESSIONS - aventurine, boothill, x reader

- in which you lost your wedding band during a conflict with something/someone.

- novas comeback post guys I'm gonna be more fluent with writing I promise. hope you enjoy this though I was gonna add Sunday but my computer is literally at 1 percent sooooooo....

- a lot of crying, minor swearing, besides that all comfort... wc 912

When Aventurine walked into your shared home to the sight of you sobbing on the couch, he thought of the worst. Are you hurt? Did something happen while he was at work? He went up to you to seek for answers.

“What happened? What's wrong?” He internally panicked, not wanting to allow you to see his current emotions. He kept calm as you sat up, tear stained face poking a hole through his battered heart.

“You’re gonna be so pissed!” You sob, somehow starting to cry even harder. You dove back into the warm cushions of the couch when you felt the part near your shins dip, and a hand running through your hair and massaging the back of your scalp.

“You can tell me anything. I won’t be upset, I promise,” he gave you a sympathetic look before proceeding. “But if you’re not comfortable with it, I won’t push you.”

You hesitantly show him your bare hands, and he takes them in his. You roll over to face him and look at him with a pained expression, and that's when he seemed to realize. 

“Where's your wedding ring?” He said, his words quick. He looked at you slightly wide-eyed before you began bawling again. He began to swipe the tears out of your eyes, his thumb coming into contact with your lower lashes as he quietly attempts to hush you and calm you down.

“Was it stolen? Did you lose it?” 

You bring a hand up to your face before sniffling. “It got stolen. The diamond was too appealing to some bastard on the streets on Golden Hour, and it was swiped right off of my hand!” 

You curl back into yourself before Aventurine comes down to kiss your face. “I’m not mad at you, babe. I’m beyond pissed off with the person who did that. Nobody seems to have even a drop of human decency these days, do they?” 

You slightly shrugged before hugging him close. He returned the hug, and held you there until you quietly whispered a question into his ear. “What are we going to do about the ring?”

He slightly chuckled before bringing his head on top of yours. “I might as well get you a new one. The old one was rather… out of date, if I must say so myself. I could get you a bigger, brighter diamond.”You attempted to protest, attempting to say everything he knew you wanted to say- even something made out of paper would be good enough for me. But he thought you were worth the shiniest, biggest, rarest stone in the world. Worth much much more than that. And this incident wasn’t much of a setback for him, and really didn’t make his wallet cry very hard at all.

Boothill doesn’t play when his significant other is not doing very well. He’s immediately at your side, stroking your hair and trying to do or say anything he can to make you feel better. 

But in this instance, it didn’t really work. He realized after a few moments that he just had to be patient, and wait for you to come to him,

“You’re going to be so mad at me if I told you,” you hiccuped, before continuing to talk. “Please don’t yell at me.”

“Why would I ever yell at ya’?” He said, his voice uncharacteristically quiet. “Whatever's got your pretty face all stained with tears can’t be that bad. I hate gettin’ mad at ya’, and ya’ know that.”

You nodded, but dug your face deeper into the pillows. Boothill simply put his metal hand on your back, and rubbed up and down. While the sensation felt cold, it seemed to work to help calm you down because you felt more at ease, and he could tell that too. 

“I lost my wedding ring. I don’t know where it went, but one moment it was there and then the next it wasn’t on my hand anymore,” you cut out, trying to hold back more tears. You could see his face change from scared to relaxed.

“Hey, don’t stress it. That’s just a lil’ setback, nothin’ to worry about. We’ll either find it or I’ll buy ya’ a new one,” he says as he picks up your now bare hand, a flash of sadness showing through his eyes. “What’ll make ya’ feel better? Cuddles? If we went out to try n’ find it?”

You shrugged, and he nodded. You buried yourself even deeper into the blankets, giving him the hint that you just wanted to stay inside for now. You felt too bad and your face was rose red from crying, your eyes puffy and your voice raspy. He climbed into the bed with you, wrapping his strong, metallic arm around your covered torso. 

“I’ll do a thorough investigation tomorrow. People don’t usually lie to Galaxy Rangers, but I doubt those adorable cutie pies would know somethin’ like that,” he immediately cringed, realizing how the sentence came out. His stupid synesthesia beacon. 

But he heard you laugh, and the cringe feeling dissipated into a warmth in his metal chest. His whole goal is to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. If he were to fail at one of those things, he’d fail at his own purpose. For now, his only thing is to cheer you up, and make sure you know that he would never be mad at you for a mistake that's not even your fault.

[mingtinys]

in a thousand lifetimes

pairing : choi seungcheol x gn!reader

hurt / comfort , angst , mafia leader!scoups au

warnings : language , descriptions of blood , mafia themes

word count : 3.5 k

requested ? no

a/n : there's just something about the domestic side of mafia au's that i just love so dearly . secretly soft and fragile mafia leader crying in the arms of their loved one >>>>>>> ruthless and cold mafia leaders .

The day you stood by Seungcheol at the altar, you promised a myriad of unconditional vows, as did he. For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health— until death do you part. To love him without doubt and cherish the heart he had so willingly placed in your care. You swore to cradle it with gentle hands; to keep it safe from shattering until the very last beat.

You were prepared for that. Excited, even.

But as Seungcheol limps through the entrance of the home you've built together, you feel your confidence in that pact falter for the first time. Perhaps you'd missed something in your vows. The part that told you what to do when the love of your life comes home stained in red. From his white button-up to his polished shoes— even his sweet, sweet face— tarnished.

You don't want him to hear the way your voice trembles. But God, that stench. That pungent scent of iron coats your throat and you can't help the way it constricts to keep the subsequent wave of nausea at bay.

"Cheol?"

His head snaps up at you like he's just now realized where he is. Glazed-over eyes connect with the wood floors you'd spent an hour mopping, then to his shaking hands painted in crimson, before that stale gaze finally lifts and meets your own.

"Are you hurt?"

He shakes his head.

"Seungcheol..." You take cautious steps his way, like how one would approach a wild deer. "Who's blood is this?"

Tears are in his eyes, but his face remains rigid. Like his brain is stuck in survival mode, but his emotions are leaking out.

"Chan's."

The boy's name hits your ears like venom. Sweet, gentle, kind, Lee Chan. The youngest intern under Seungcheol's leadership, you'd met him once at a company dinner. You don't think you've ever met someone with such a heart of gold. And it's a little hard to imagine you could be staring at all that's left of him. "Oh my God, is he okay? What happened?"

Seungcheol's face twists at your questions, some memory pulling at his brows and forcing his eyes shut. They open with fresh tears and the first ounce of clarity cracks through his otherwise dazed state.

"He's in the hospital—" You see the words catch in his throat. His fist repeatedly pounds against his thigh and his mouth hangs open until the words finally come. "It's my fault. He's just a kid, this is all my fault— he shouldn't have been there. They shouldn't have been able to get to him. It was too dangerous, he wasn't ready."

Nothing of his fragmented words makes any sort of sense. You've never seen him like this, so frazzled, so pitiful, so... broken. The sight of it twists your heart, contorting in your chest to such an unnatural degree there's a physical ache.

So, despite the nausea burning your esophagus and the screams of protest deep within your bones, your arms open and gravity pulls Seungcheol into them with labored steps. His knees buckle instantly at the contact and it takes every ounce of strength in your arms to catch him. Letting yourself sink with him to soften the fall; even if that means your knees land with a painful thud, already able to feel purple bruises blossoming from the impact.

Because you love him.

Because you vowed not only for better but for worse as well. And vows are only as good as the turmoils they prove to withstand.

Calloused hands grip the sides of your shirt. You try to ignore the stains they leave, pushing your focus onto the man before you on the brink of hysterics. His forehead falls to your chest, and that's when the most wretched sobs you've ever had the displeasure of hearing begin. Loud and sharp, like the blade of a sword, as they slice through the eerily still night.

A chill creeps in from where your knees connect with the hardwood and crawls up the length of your spine. It nests in your mind and metastasizes, igniting alarms in that little part of your brain that warns: you should be scared. Though it doesn't grant you the knowledge of what.

"Baby, what happened?" You ask and recite a silent prayer the answer to that is not him.

He sobs out an unpromising, "I can't."

"Seungcheol, there is too much blood for that shit. You need to tell me what the hell is going on." Your eyes are starting to burn with the flood breaching your lashes, unsure how much longer you can force an ease into your tone.

You need him to just spit it out. Before your heart explodes.

You steady his head between your palms and swipe at the blood spatter decorating his jawline. It just smears, mixing with his tears and tinting more of his cheek in a dull brownish-red. Seungcheol looks at you with eyes that scream please don't hate me and you don't know but... you know. Enough that when the confession finally pours from his lips, the shock doesn't totally shatter your ribs on impact. Instead, the words slowly seep into your skin and enter your bloodstream like a bitter poison.

Suddenly, minuscule details make much more sense, revealing the full picture like a jigsaw puzzle falling into place. The nights he doesn't return until the sun breaches the horizon. The general air of mystery around his job and the "family business" he took over years ago. How insistent he had been with you learning some type of self-defense. All the way down to the dried blood that lingered under his fingernails.

You should be levels more upset than you are at his confession. Any normal person would be. He lied to you, for years. Hid a secret so large it could easily blow a crater in the earth should the measly stilts it balanced on collapse. Yet, the anger you feel doesn't boil over into a blind rage. It stirs with concern and simmers until it has been diluted into nothing but the type of anger that can only be fueled by love. It comes with the terrifying revelation that the person you love most in this world, could've been stolen from you at any moment and you would've been none the wiser as to how. It makes you want to hold him a little extra in the mornings, a little harder, closer.

Then, somewhere, in that tangled web of emotions fighting to reach the surface, there's an unexpected relief. Because one thing has been glaringly obvious since the day you met Choi Seungcheol. The reason he appears as such a pillar of strength relies solely on the fact that he shoulders the weight of the world alone. Rarely does he let his struggles reach his cheery expression. You can't help but think, now that you know, there's one less burden he has to carry by himself.

"Please don't leave me," Seungcheol rasps out. You'd nearly forgotten where you were for a moment. Forgot his face was still between your hands, that blood still smeared his cheek, and tears were still slipping from his lashes. But at this moment, as those weary earth-brown eyes search your face for an answer, you realize just how malleable your morals are when it comes to him.

"I love you." You confess, like it's the first time the phrase has ever left your lips. "Cheol, I love you more than anything in this world." So much it frightens you what you're willing to forgive.

But then again it doesn't. Because he's never been Choi Seungcheol, the city's most feared mob boss. To you, he's always just been Cheol. The man that nearly burned your kitchen down two anniversaries ago trying to make you breakfast in bed. Who pouts and whines when you haven't given him enough attention after work. Who's touch has only ever been as gentle as a Summer's breeze. And maybe you're naive, but you'd like to believe the Seungcheol that peppers your face with kisses every morning and begs for five extra minutes in bed is a truer reflection of his heart than his job.

With one final deep breath to steel your nerves and silence the brigade of questions swirling in your head, you press a long kiss to his temple— one of the only areas not tainted with red. The tension in his muscles visibly melts away at the contact and beyond anything he just looks... tired. You want nothing more than to let him rest in the safety of your arms, but he's still covered in Chan's blood.

"Let's get you cleaned up, yeah?" You coax him from the floor, never once letting your voice slip above a gentle whisper. He tries to protest, insisting he needs to be at the hospital with the others to check on Chan, but puts up absolutely no fight when you tell him that can wait until tomorrow as you guide him towards the bathroom.

You gather towels and fresh clothes and lay them out on the vanity. "Take your time, okay? I won't go far, promise." With one last reassurance, you leave Seungcheol in privacy to shower and clean the blood from his skin.

Alone now, the adrenaline in your veins dissolves, and the full gravity of everything finally crashes around you. The metallic scent lingering in the air, the drying blood on the hardwood, the feeling of impending doom that comes with a truth so heavy. It's too much, at least to bear in such a tiny apartment. You all but sprint out the front door, accidentally letting it shut with a hefty slam.

The warm Summer night air hits your skin and wraps around you like a security blanket. You inhale deeply, once, twice, thrice, and on the fourth breath, it feels like the oxygen finally reaches the base of your lungs.

You sit, for a length of time you remain ignorant to, at the bottom of the stairwell. Lost deep in thought until the buzzing of your phone reverberates from your back pocket. You look at it but— no caller I.D.

Answering it anyway, a sense of comfort fills you at the familiar voice.

"Jeonghan." You greet.

"I'm sorry to call so late," He says, voice languid. "I just wanted to know if Seungcheol got home safe yet."

"He did."

There's a long pause of silence. Just the steady beeps of a heart monitor on the other side of the line. Then, "Is Chan okay?"

"Yeah, he's sleeping right now. Doctors gave him some of the good shit to knock him out for the night." There's a hesitance to the way he speaks and you think perhaps he's weighing in his mind what excuse Seungcheol might have told you as to why Chan is even in the hospital to begin with.

"Jeonghan, can I ask you something?"

"I can't promise I'll have an answer, but sure." He's always been so calculated in the way he speaks, which makes sense to you now.

You chew at the inside of your cheek. "Seungcheol, he... He keeps himself safe, right?"

"You know." He sighs, matter of fact.

"I do."

"He's careful, smart, keeps his hands clean-ish. We all look after each other, he's about as safe as he can be." The man on the other end of the line yawns, and you wonder how long he's been up wondering if Seungcheol made it home before he finally called. That in and of itself should comfort you and prove Seungcheol has people who care about him when you're not around, but it doesn't. You don't think anything ever could at this point. Perhaps it was better not knowing the truth.

"That doesn't exactly make me feel better."

Jeonghan snorts. "I didn't think it would."

Another stretch of silence spans over the line for an uncomfortably long time. So long, you begin to think maybe the call disconnected. But that steady beeping is still there, quiet, but there.

Then Jeonghan speaks, his sudden words sending ice pricking through your veins. "You're an accomplice now, you know?" His voice carries no emotion. It's as if he's reading the words straight from an instruction manual. "Unless, of course, you turn him in."

Oh.

You hadn't thought of that.

"Would you?"

His question lingers in the air like smoke, suffocating your airways so much it feels like you might choke before you can even answer.

Never has the idea of betraying Seungcheol's trust ever been a thought in your head, much less an option. But he's right. Your newfound knowledge makes you just as much a criminal in the eyes of the law as if you had committed the act yourself. It's either fess up while you still can or guard his secret with, quite literally, your life.

Perhaps you were a bit hasty. It was easy to hold Seungcheol in your arms and whisper comforting words between his sobs. However, when it comes to your own fate, you're forced to reckon with the dread that washes over you like a bucket of ice, alone.

Still, you're embarrassed that not even a shred of doubt weighs your decision. Just an immeasurable amount of guilt.

"No."

"You don't sound so sure."

"It's a lot to process." You defend, trying not to let your voice waver too much under Jeonghan's scrutiny.

"I know it is," He relents, and suddenly, his voice shifts back to the soothing, angelic tone you've always been used to. "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how you're feeling."

The conversation lulls in what you assume is Jeonghan leaving space for you to share if so you wish. You don't— knowing that if you were to loosen even a single thread tethering your mind in the realm of sanity, it would all unravel. You've only just begun to construct the brittle wall that separates your Seungcheol from the one covered in blood. If it were to take a blow so early and come crumbling down, you fear you may not have the strength needed to start over.

Your current position is precarious and emotions are already tricky— pouring them out to Seungcheol's best friend even more so.

"I'm fine. I should probably get back to Cheol." You say instead.

Jeonghan hums. "He's had a rough night." Steady beeps still pulse like a metronome in the background, mixing with a subtle chatter. "Let him know everyone is okay and if you two need anything, just call."

"I'll tell him."

"That means you too."

A voice calls Jeonghan's name and the line goes dead before you can say anything more. Not that you had much else left to say— or anything that would be news to Jeonghan at least. It felt like he knew more about your spinning mind in one phone call than you'd pieced together since Seungcheol stumbled through the door.

Seungcheol.

Seungcheol, who's been alone in your tiny apartment for who knows how long at this point. With nothing but his thoughts and a water heater that runs out far too quickly to comfort him. Your heart aches at the idea of him crumpled up in the basin of the porcelain tub alone.

Seungcheol, whom you find sitting at the kitchen island with his head in his hands— hunched over a steaming mug of tea— upon your return. His hair hangs down in damp strings, dripping onto his pair of comfort sweatpants, the ones he tends to gravitate towards when he's had a long day.

The door clicks shut behind you and his head snaps up with lightning quick reflexes. A wild look flashes in his eyes, but it melts away almost as quick as it came. His shoulders slump with relief and for what seems like an eternity, he just let's his gaze linger.

"I didn't think you were coming back." He rasps. His fingers curl around the mug, siphoning off some of its warmth to combat the slight chill in the air.

His hands are clean now— free of any trace of dark red— then again, they never really were. Probably never will be.

"To be honest, I wasn't completely sure I was." You're still some distance away from where he sits, a fact you're made painfully aware of by the way his eyes flit between you and the door. As if he expects you to flee at any moment.

"I would understand, you know?" His voice is as soft and genuine as it was the day he said I do. "I wouldn't be mad. My job, this life, it was never supposed to be your burden. You can walk out and I wouldn't—" His voice catches and he takes a swig of his tea, cringing at the temperature as it goes down. "—I wouldn't stop you."

You know he wouldn't. Because Choi Seungcheol is a good man. There would not be a ring on your finger if he wasn't. It's why you're so comfortable closing the distance that separates you two.

It's why you're so comfortable excusing all of his wrongs.

"I'm not going anywhere."

"You should." He croaks. Tears gather at his waterline and on instinct, you wipe the first to fall away. But more continue to silently slip down his cheeks. Unable to catch them fast enough, you step between his legs and guide his forehead to your shoulder with a gentle hand on the back of his neck.

Seungcheol lets out a shaky breath as your fingers trail down the nape of his neck to just between his shoulders, then back up again. You hold him. Just as you've held his heart for years. Delicate. Like handling glass.

"I love you," He whispers. "I'm sorry I lied, I— all I ever wanted was to keep you safe."

"I know."

He tilts his head back, staring up at you with damp cheeks and bloodshot eyes. "I don't deserve you."

You tuck a piece of hair that's fallen into his eye behind his ear. "I could find you in a thousand lifetimes and there wouldn't be a single one where that'd be true."

"I'd still spend every one of those thousand lifetimes making it up to you." His hands grip your hips, holding you steady, as if he's still scared you'll run away.

"You." You hold the underside of his chin so he can't divert his gaze for your next words. Your tone is a firm, bordering on authoritative. "Make it up to me by coming home."

Seungcheol nods, but it's not a good enough answer for you.

"Don't ever make me plan your funeral, Choi Seungcheol. Do you understand? You cannot do that to me."

"I won't."

"Promise me. Because I swear if I ever have to hear from Jeonghan that you're not coming home I swear I'll—"

Seungcheol takes your hand from his chin and pulls it flat against his chest. The quick but rhythmic beats of his heart calms your barrage of threats instantaneously.

"I promise."

The words leave his lips slowly. Each syllable is enunciated loud and clear, so the sincerity with which he says them can reach your ears without doubt. His words linger in the air and all you can focus on is his pulse. How terrified you are that one day it'll stop before your own. That there could come a night where your head rests against empty sheets instead of his chest. No longer lulled to sleep by its steady beating.

That thought rattles you more than any crime Seungcheol could commit.

It takes Seungcheol's thumb grazing over your cheekbone to realize you're crying. But then it becomes unstoppable. More worries spilling out in the form of tears. It's the not knowing that may be the end of you.

"I want you in this lifetime, Cheol. I don't want to wait until the next to live a full life with you. So I need you to keep that promise."

Seungcheol rises from his seat and brings you into his chest. Allowing you to hide away from the horrors of it all in his strong embrace. "There's nothing I wouldn't do to make it home to you." He reassures. And the sheer determination in his voice makes you believe him.

"And no more secrets, okay?" You mumble against the soft fabric of his shirt. "I want you to tell me everything."

"It's better if I don't." He whispers with a deep exhale. And you want to be more upset with his answer than you are. But he keeps rocking you side to side and pressing long kisses to your temple.

"All you need to know is that none of it comes before you." The sincerity in his voice is as prominent as it was reciting his vows. "Everything I've built. All the money and power in the world— I'd burn it all to the ground for you."

[wosoamazing]

Abandoned?

Warnings: Injury, serious chest injury, ambulance, hospitals, parental abandonment, mentions of death. A/N: In this fic the most recent international break was friendlies… This was a request from someone on wattpad.

It was the 25th minute when Fox kicked a ball, unfortunately for you it came hurtling towards you and before you could move out of the way it crash into your chest, the sound of the ball connecting with your upper torso reverberated through the stadium as you collapsed to the ground from the force, you immediately grabbed your chest as you rolled around the pitch clearly in agony, medics from both teams were on the pitch before the game was paused, there was no time to waste. 

Your chest felt tight, it felt like someone squeezed your heart every time it beat, you could almost feel bubbles ‘pop’ in your chest, and your chest heaved with every breath as you struggled to get air in, whilst also feeling incredible pain every time you sucked in the slightest bit of air.

The stadium was dead silent, it was like there wasn’t a single soul there. And when the ref finally blew the whistle after what felt like hours, the ambo cart immediately raced its way across the pitch to where you laid, surrounded by medics. Sheets were quickly brought onto the pitch and held up around you by various training staff of both teams to provide some protection against the various cameras that surrounded you, an announcement was made informing all media to seize action of cameras however that wouldn’t have stopped the public from trying to get photos.

-

Leah felt time slow down when you hit the pitch, she felt her body freeze, she was standing there staring at the spot you laid surrounding my medics, and paramedics, she didn’t know what to feel, it was almost like her body had forgotten to feel. All your fellow teammates stood there watching her, not knowing whether they should go over to her or not, however when they saw the sheets being brought out they knew it was bad, it basically never happened. Lucy started to make her way over to their Skipper, Kiera and Georgia followed behind her, knowing Leah needed support in this moment. They watched her fall to her knees as announcement was made, leaning forward, burying her face into the grass, her shoulders shook harshly as sobs wracked her body. A circle was formed around them by the USWNT as they tried to comfort Leah. Leah had absolutely broken down, she didn't know how to feel, she was just hoping, praying for dear life that they weren't resuscitating you behind those sheets. You lived with Leah, spending almost every second of every day with her, she didn't know what would happen, how she would cope if you left her.

Diagonally across the pitch from the circle, stood Lotte, who had her arms around Fox, the American cried into her shoulder, he body shook as her fellow arsenal teammates tried to comfort her, reassuring her that this wasn't her fault and that it would be okay.

-

A paramedic was running over to the crowd and waved a man down who was brought onto the pitch, he was one of the Trauma Doctors at St Mary’s and just happened to watching the game with his family on his day off, “Update us” he said as he made his way through the sheets with the paramedic, “pulse is thready, bpm of 163, clear respiratory distress, muffled chest sounds, GCS score unattainable,” “c-spine collar,” you were placed into a neck brace, “prep for an on field thoracostomy,” someone said, before your jersey was cut off and the cold air hit your skin as they disinfected the area, “this is going to hurt, stabilise her,” you felt a knife cut into you and you moaned out in pain, before something was stuck in your chest, and an oxygen mask was placed over your face, you felt a pair of hands leave your body, and heard the sound of heavy boots crunch in the wet cool grass, indicating someone was running somewhere. 

—

“Ready for transfer,” there was a silence, “on my count, 1,2,3,” your body was held straight as you were tipped on your side, the movement causing you to feel slightly dizzy and you could almost hear bugs in your ears, something hard and cold was placed against your back “and 1,2,3,” you were tipped onto your back again, now lying on the backboard, as the foam blocks were placed next to your head and secured your world started to go a little hazy, as someone readjusted the tube that was stuck in your chest.

“Stay with us y/n,” you tried to open your eyes further but you couldn’t and suddenly everything went black.

________

“And the parents are on their way? Or so I’ve heard,” you faintly heard someone say as they stood outside your room. You had just woken up, and everything was still slightly hazy.

You quickly came to at those words, you eyes widened, and you felt your chest start to get tight again, your heart pounded, you were shaking, your breath was ragged, “I-I don’t want to see them,” you stammered out as you shook your head, and tears started to fall from your eyes, Leah didn’t know ones heart could break so many times in one day but here she was, feeling her heart break for at least the second time. She quickly got up so she could be closer to you, taking your hands in hers, “No baby,” she shook her head, face etched with pain, no matter how much you hated your parents, she knew this was going to hurt. “It’s not them anymore, they, they,” she let out a heavy sigh, “they gave you up, they signed away their rights. When they got the call, they said that it wasn’t their duty to make the decisions or to take care of you, they, they said they didn’t want to be associated with you, they came to the hospital, purely to sign the papers to give away their guardianship,” Leah watched as a range of emotions crossed your face, you couldn’t believe it, yes they had already kicked you out and you barely spoke. But this was different. This was something else. This was complete abandonment, they didn’t want anything to do with you anymore. “I’m sorry baby, I’m so so sorry, I-” Leah was cut off my the loud alarm sounding on the monitor, your panic had caused your heart rate to get to high and your oxygen levels too low, your chest heaved with every breath again, and you could feel it burn as oxygen entered your lungs, but that pain was nothing, nothing could ever compare to the feeling of being disowned legally by your parents. Knowing they travelled all the way to the hospital, just to sign a piece of paper to say they didn't love you anymore.

You had just finished facetiming Kyra, Steph and Caitlin, when you turned your head to face Leah, who was sitting in the chair near your bed, her face seemed serious as she read something on her phone.

“We aren’t playing Bristol City,” she suddenly announced “well obviously,” you rolled your eyes at her, “no like the club isn’t, they forfeited,” “oh,” you paused for a minute, “I want to see Emily,” you blurted out, the thought having been circling your mind for the last however long.

“I don’t think that is the best idea, B-” “But why? It’s not her fault, she did nothing wrong,” “That’s not the reason why bubs, Emily is struggling at the moment, she knows it wasn’t her fault, but she feels like it is, because she kicked the ball, she didn't mean to hit you, but she does feel guilty, she feels like she just shouldn’t have kicked the ball.” You nodded your head, and picked up your phone, scrolling through instagram, when you came across statements from both Arsenal and England.

An update from the England Lionesses: Y/N is in a stable condition, she is awake and talking. Her recovery will be in the hands of her club and we wish her all the best. We ask that out of respect for the players and those involved that no photos or videos taken during/after the incident are shared, these players are people too and deserve privacy. We are thankful for all our fans' support and apologise for the abandonment of the match, all tickets will be refunded. 

Arsenal WFC have released a statement: After discussions with our players, staff, Bristol City and the FA we have come to the decision that we will be forfeiting our next fixture in the WSL against Bristol City, we understand what this decision means and how it affects our position in the table however we must keep our players wellbeing at the forefront during this time period and in no way would it be fair or right of us to ask any of our players to play a match in the coming days. The incident involving y/n has affected every single one of our players deeply and we want to be able to take the next few days to focus on their wellbeing and health, something we could not do if we were to have a game. We would like to reassure the public that y/n is in safe hands and is in a stable condition. 

As you finished reading the statement from Arsenal you felt your bottom lip start to quiver, you looked over to Leah who was once again looking at her phone,  “I’m sorry,” “for what?” she softly asked, “for scaring everyone, I-I didn’t mean to,” you quietly spoke as soft tears fell from your eyes, “hey, hey, none of that, it wasn’t anyone's fault okay, we all just care about you and want to make sure you’re okay,” she reassured you as she moved to sit with you in the bed, “okay” you said as you moved to lean your head back on her shoulder, “I love you so much, we all do, never forget that,”

[lieslab]

Not strong enough

꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Og8 X gn reader

Summary: Skz finds you when you're struggling with a depressive episode and they try to cheer you up.

Genre: Comfort/hurt & fluff

Word Count: 3.4K

Trigger warning: Depression, anxiety, occasional jokes about dying, and the Seungmin one mentions skin-picking.

A/N: Yesterday I said I'd post a new drabble tomorrow and with barely an hour left in the day, I made it. This was a request, but some of this was sheer stupidity. Depression is a very serious thing, but I have no doubt that the guys would attempt to cheer you up, even if it meant having silly conversations, making bad jokes, and trying to do whatever it took to see you smile <3

_ _ _

Chan:

You rubbed your face with your hands for the third time within the past fifteen minutes. Frustration poured over you as you ripped another page from your journal, crinkled it up, and threw it to the ground. 

Chan glanced up from his computer with a frown. He tugged an earbud from his ear and looked over you. You were bent over the desk in your shared bedroom. Every night, you journal about your day, but the words weren’t coming out today. You already missed the past three entries and were trying to catch up. 

“Are you okay over there?” Chan called out. 

“I’m fine.” 

His eyes went from the back of your silhouette over to the wadded ball of paper and back to your back. You could feel him staring, but you ignored it as you went back to writing words on the lined paper. You began writing, but didn’t get very far. You stopped when your eyes filled with tears. 

You sniffled, wiped them away, and began writing again. Chan knew something was wrong, but you didn’t want to talk about it. Forcing yourself to swallow the lump in your throat and the frustrated sobs that you wanted to push out, you stayed quiet and kept forcing yourself to write. 

The scribbled handwriting was sloppy and none of it was legible. Tears blurred your eyes and made it difficult to see, but you kept pushing. You only stopped when there was a creak behind you. 

Chan put his laptop aside, pulled out his other earbud, and left them on the bed. His bare feet caused loose wooden floorboards to creak beneath the carpet. When he got to you, a supportive hand fell onto your shoulder. 

“Are you okay?” 

You sniffled and shook your head. 

“Wanna talk about it?” 

You shook your head again and his fingers sent a light squeeze to your shoulder. “That’s alright. How about you come back to this in a while? We can watch a movie and hang out.” 

“I don’t want to bother you,” you hoarsely got out. 

His lips pushed into a frown. His eyes studied your face, searching for a sign of what was really wrong with you, but nothing stuck out. You seemed to be okay, so it must have been an internal thing. 

“You’re never a bother to me, sweetheart. You’ll never be a bother to me. Even if you wake me up in the middle of the night or interrupt me while I’m working on a new song, you’re never a bother. This is the least I can do to help make you feel better. Besides, it’s been a while since we last watched something funny.” 

The pen dropped from your hand and you nodded. That oversized lump was still there when you leaned forward, grabbed the front of his shirt, and tugged him closer to you. He didn’t fight it as you wrapped your arms around his waist and kept him held tight. 

“Better?” He smiled softly as he wrapped his arms around your back. 

In the familiar scent of his cologne and the comforting warmth, all you could do was nod. 

_ _ _

Minho: 

Plink!

Plink! 

You opened your eyes with a groan. Crying yourself to sleep again caused your eyelashes to stick together. In the darkness of your bedroom, the only thing letting light in was the moonlight slipping between the curtains. 

You shifted in your covers and pulled them over your head. Even the moon was too bright. You didn’t want to let any light in. With the way you had been feeling lately, you were okay with drowning in the darkness. 

Plink! Plink! Plink! 

It’s just hail, you reassured yourself as you buried your head in the cover. It stopped for a while and then there was a loud crack. You jerked up straight in your bed with wide eyes. With eyes meeting the window, a large crack sat along the middle of the glass panel. 

You shoved yourself from the bed and rushed over, hoping to capture the perpetrator. When you got there, to your surprise, nobody was running away. Instead, Minho was down below waving his hands frantically to capture your attention. Confusion filled your half-asleep stature and you slid open the window. 

“I didn’t mean to put a crack in your window with the rock. I’ll replace it, I swear. Come downstairs and let me in before I break a bottom window and crawl inside.” 

“Do you know what time it is?” You called down. 

“Time for me to hold you while we both get some sleep. You’ve been ignoring my calls and texts. I would have come earlier, but dance practice stayed over. I told you I’d be over later, but clearly-” His hands shifted to his hips. “Someone ignored my messages.” 

“Go back to your dorm, Minho.” 

“Don’t make me hunt down a crow bar and force entry into your household. Let me inside. I know something is wrong with you and you’re crazy if you think I’m just going to let you deal with it on your own.” 

“If you’re so desperate, why don’t you just climb up here?” 

“Fine!” He huffed, spun around to face the large maple tree beside him, and began to identify the weakened points to climb up. He shoved his foot into the knot of two branches and yanked himself up. 

His body still ached from practice, but he was worried about you. In the outline of the window, you looked pale and exhausted. You were crazy if you thought he was going to return empty-handed. 

“You’re such an idiot,” you grumbled as he climbed higher branches. He steadied himself pretty well as he used his limbs to climb higher and higher. 

Before you knew it, he was only about three feet from your window. With a steady balance, he pushed himself to his feet. “Back up, so I can jump in.” 

“Huh?” 

“Back up. You know like-” He flapped his hands back towards you. “Scooch your booch or whatever. Haul ass, so I can get inside.” 

“I’m gonna shove my foot up your booch.” 

“You’re going to regret that if I fall and die.” 

“You are so dramatic.” You stepped back, but stood near the window, just in case he needed you. 

He took a running start before he launched himself at your window. Like a cat, he pounced and caught the end of the windowsill. He shifted and shimmied until he got in and landed with a soft thud on the rug. 

“So,” he sucked in a deep breath, “are you going to tell me why you’re ignoring me?” 

“I’m not in the mood to do anything besides sleep. I just want to melt into the bed and be at peace for a while. It’s all so overwhelming and you know how it is.” 

“I think I do. Luckily, I’m here to save you.” He shifted, kicked off his shoes, and pushed you towards the bed. “We’ll discuss this more tomorrow, but for now, it’s bedtime.” 

_ _ _

Changbin: 

“Do you want to go to the movies?” 

“No.” 

“On a walk?” 

“No.” 

“Gym?” 

“No.” 

“How about we relax with a drive?” 

“No thanks.” 

Changbin sighed and shifted on the bed. He inched closer to you and let his legs intertwine with yours. “Well, what do you want to do?”  

“I want to lay here and do nothing. I don’t have the energy to do anything. I just want to lay here beneath the covers and if I’m lucky, God will strike me dead.” 

“Nuh-uh! If God strikes you dead, I’m coming up there and giving him an ass-whooping.” 

“You can’t beat up God, he’s God.” 

“Well then, he can keep his immortal fingers off my significant other. Honey bear, you’re stuck with me forever. No matter what, I’m always gonna be right here beside you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“I know life is hard and I know sometimes you tend to struggle.” He shoved himself up and rubbed his hands together. “So I have decided to squash the sadness out of you.” 

“Huh?” 

“You heard me.” He stumbled and struggled to find his balance on the wavering bed. He rubbed his hands together again and shifted his feet. 

“Here I come!” 

“Changbin, no!” 

“Binnie, yes!”  

You lost your breath as he let his arms out to the sides. Your eyes squeezed shut and you braced for impact, but it never came. Instead, he let out a giggle and plopped back down beside you. 

“You really thought I was gonna squish you? You survive another day and I get to love you one more time.” He wiggled over and rolled on top of you, so your chests were pressed together. You sent an unamused scowl his way. 

“Aw, come on, don’t be like that!” He reached up and pressed your cheeks together. “Goosh, goosh. Who’s a cutie patootie? Who’s my little cutie patootie?” 

Your cheeks went bright red and you tried to shove his hands away, but he wouldn’t stop cooing at you. Your head went back as you laughed and he beamed. 

“There’s the laughter I love. Hold still! I wanna do it again, so I can hear you some more. Oochie, coochie, coo.” 

“Coochie?” Your eyes widened

“Hey! Don’t make it weird!” 

_ _ _

Hyunjin: 

“Have you been feeling off lately too?” Hyunjin asked. 

The two of you had your backs pressed into the overgrown grass. Ticks and bugs were the least of your worries as you stared up at the empty night sky. Your eyes swam across the speckled constellations. “Something like that, yeah.” 

“Miserable and depressed?” 

“Miserable and depressed,” you agreed. 

“I thought so. I’ve noticed that sometimes when you start feeling rough, I feel rough. Maybe we’re connected or-” 

“Maybe you’re just emotionally sensitive and in tune with my emotions or, better yet, you can read body language.” 

“I liked my idea of being emotionally connected better, but okay, sure. Go right ahead and crush my little heart and my dreams.” He dramatically huffed and crossed his arms over his chest. 

“I think I will,” you joked softly. 

He huffed once more and a silence grew between the two of you for a while. It took a bit before you responded again. “Do you think the stars look at us and laugh at how tiny we look? Are we looking at them or are they looking at us?” 

“That’s a good question, but I thought stars were dead.” 

“Supposedly, I think, but who really knows.” 

“Space is confusing,” he mumbled beneath his breath. 

“Life is confusing,” you added. 

“I just want to stay in this moment forever.” 

“Me too.” 

“You know,” he shifted and rolled onto his side to face you, “I brought you here to remind you that beauty still exists in the darkness.” 

“How poetic.” 

“Romantic, hmm?” He grinned and leaned closer. “I know you like keeping your struggles hidden, so I’ll be here waiting for you to unleash them. In the meantime, maybe we can find another planet in the maze of stars or something.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Anytime, sweets, anytime.” 

_ _ _

Han: 

“You’re ignoring me!” 

“Han,” you mumbled softly, “I swear it’s not on purpose. I’ve been having a struggle lately and please know that it’s not you. It’s me and my brain. Everything is just a mess lately and I’m so tired.” 

“Wait, why didn’t you say that in the first place? How long has this been happening? What’s going on?” He kicked off his shoes and rushed towards where you were laying on the couch. “Are you okay?” 

“Physically? I’m fine. Mentally? I’m stuck in the waves of depression and everything is so exhausting. I truly don’t mean to ignore you, but all I can think about is how nice a nap sounds. I wake up and barely do anything and then I’m exhausted.” 

“Uh-oh.” He straddled one leg over you and gently sat himself on your waist. “I have some news for your brain.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Uh-huh.” He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against your own. You blushed at the intimate contact and he pushed your head gently back into the leather couch. 

“Listen here brain, you better shape up and ship out. You keep that sad shit away from my significant other. Don’t make me stick my fingers up their nose and give you a good shake. I’ll clock your noggin, baby. Don’t think I won’t give it a good shake and a swift spanking like a piggy bank.” 

“You’d really shove your fingers up my nose?” You whispered in an attempt not to laugh. 

He suddenly leaned back and blinked. His hand went up and he looked at his fingers and then your nose. He cocked his head, stuck up two fingers, and hummed as he shifted and observed them. 

“Now that I don’t think about it, I’m not sure they’d fit. Do you wanna try it?” His entire face lit up at the possibility. 

“Keep your fingers out of my nasal cavity. I don’t know where they’ve been and quite frankly, I don’t wanna know. You’ve probably had them down yo-” 

“Woah, woah, woah! This is a family show! None of that!” 

“You threatened to spank my brain!” 

“If you keep back-talking, you’re gonna be the one to get a spanking.” 

_ _ _

Felix: 

“I would move mountains for you. I would make the world stop tilting on its axis. I’d prick my finger on every spinning wheel until I found my way back to you and I would-” 

“What are you doing?” You asked as you cocked your head. 

Felix was standing in your kitchen early in the morning. In a chef’s hat, a floral apron, and flour smeared across his cheek, he was a mess, but he was a cute mess. He sucked in a deep breath and let it out. 

“One of the guys said you told them you were struggling lately and when you told them and didn’t tell me, I was upset. However, I then realized that you told them when you were drunk which basically meant you weren’t going to tell anyone and the point is-” He stepped away from the counter he was standing in front of and pushed out his arms. 

“I know you have a sweet tooth and I’m not sure when you last ate. I know too much sugar isn’t great for you, but I believe it’s better than starving, so I might have used your kitchen and went overboard.” 

He smiled sheepishly and gestured back to the tray of desserts that sat perched behind him. “So I made you sweet treats and I know you have the day off, so I thought maybe we could hang out.” 

“Felix…” Your voice came out hoarsely as tears filled up your eyes. “You really didn’t have to do that.” 

“You’re right, but I wanted to. You’ve done so much to make my life easier and I wanted to return the favor.”  

“Honestly, I don’t think today is a good day to hang out. I’m sorry, but I don’t think I have the energy to go outside and I…” You trailed off as your hand went to the back of your neck. “I just came out to get a glass of water. I’m still really tired, so…”

“Hey, that’s okay! I’ve been up all night and nothing sounds better than cuddling you. At least, if you allow me to.” 

“As long as you wipe the flour off your face.” 

“Done deal.” 

“And maybe bring two of those chocolate cookies, so we can have a mini snack.” 

“Say no more.” 

“Thank you, sunshine.” 

“Hey, I should be thanking you. You make me so happy and I can’t wait to cuddle you again. It’s been quite a while since the last time that happened. Come on!” He took off his apron and hat. “Let’s eat and head back to bed.”

_ _ _

Seungmin: 

“You’re doing that thing you do when you’re anxious again.” Seungmin pointed out as you picked at the skin along the side of your nail. When you didn’t respond, he tried again. “Hello?” 

No response. 

He sighed, reached out, and placed a hand on yours. You jumped, frightened by the sudden warmth, before you relaxed again. “What are you doing?” 

“You’re picking at your fingers. You told me to tell you to stop it when I caught you doing it.” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You pulled your hands away and laid them at your sides. 

“Is something wrong? You’ve seemed pretty lost the past few days. Your mind seems to be elsewhere. It’s like you’re here physically, but not mentally.” 

“I haven’t been the best lately. I think my depression is starting to come back again. I swear, I’m trying to help myself, but sometimes it seems a bit pointless. I seem okay and then I fall apart again.” 

“It’s okay to struggle, but it’s not okay to do it silently.” 

“That’s quite the shocker coming from you. You always like keeping your struggles to yourself. It almost seems a bit hypocritical.” 

He groaned and tossed his head back. “I know and I’m trying to work on that. If I have to work on my issues, it means you have to work on yours. How about this? We ramble our issues to each other and then we pretend that it never happened and go back to normal after being vulnerable.” 

“What’s the catch?” You raised an eyebrow. 

“The catch is that we keep opening up to each other during the next few days, but only at specific times. That way, we’re not overwhelmed and we still get out our issues, even if we don’t want to, but once the time is up, we don’t talk about them again.” 

“Good enough.” 

“You start.” 

“No, you.” 

“No, you.” 

“You’re impossible.” 

“Up yours, Seungmin.” 

_ _ _

Jeongin: 

“Don’t give me that look, you know I cave easily when you look at me like that. This isn’t fair!” You complained with your arms crossed. A pout sat on your face as Jeongin laid in your lap with a full dose of puppy dog eyes and a drooping bottom lip. 

“I just wanna know what’s wrong with you. You’re not laughing at my jokes and you’re distant. You keep staring at the blank wall and it’s starting to freak me out. Are you seeing aliens or something?” 

“I’m not seeing aliens!” 

“Well, you might be!” 

“We don’t even know if aliens exist.” 

“If they do, I’d tell you that you have to tell me what’s wrong. If you don’t, I’d allow them to probe you.” 

“Woah! Woah! Woah! Huh?” Your eyes widened in shock as you stared over at him. “You’d let them probe me?” 

He pouted and shifted, so his face was facing the TV instead of you. “That’s what happens when you don’t open up to your lover. You get probed by aliens.” 

“That’s bullshit.” 

“I’d call them off if you just told me what was wrong with you.” 

“You don’t even know if they’d listen to you or not.” 

“Yeah, I do. I literally sang Maknae on top. Obviously, that’d be their national anthem and my face would be on their flag.” 

“And what planet do you live on? Narcissism?” 

He scoffed, “pft, no. Obviously, it’s planet pride.” 

“For more than one reason,” you whispered beneath your breath. 

“Huh?” He shifted to glance over his shoulder at you. 

“Nothing. Anyway, for your information, I’ve had a rough few days and I’ve mentally checked out. I don’t want to say it’s depression, but-” 

“It’s sadness that could turn back into your depression?” He guessed. 

“Something like that. I need to schedule another appointment with my therapist, but every time I think about making the call, I want to burst into tears.” 

“How about you email her instead?” 

You opened your mouth to disagree and then paused. “Well, I guess I could do that. I didn’t really think about it, but that’d work.” 

“You better get on that before the aliens come down and probe.” 

“I’m going to kick your ass.” 

“Good luck, babe. You can’t reach it when you’re here being sad.” You rolled your eyes and he laughed. “You better write that email by tomorrow. The aliens are merciful for one business day and then they’re coming to search your insides.” 

“What are they going to find besides my depression?” 

“Stupidity.” 

“You’re so lucky that I love you and I appreciate you.” 

“Like I said, stupidity.” 

“I’m going to toss you onto a UFO and send your ass to the moon.” 

“That’s not gonna save you from alien probing. The aliens and I are linked up. We can talk to each other with our brains.” 

“I can’t believe you have this planned out.” 

“And I can’t believe you don’t.” 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Taglist: @lina-linny @straykidsstanforeverandever @seungnishi @stellasays45

Masterlist

Taglist and inbox rules

[bitchinbarzal]

Disappear | S Reid

summary: how does a child, the daughter of a federal agent go missing from a police station.

-

Spencer took his eye off her for five minutes, just to help deliver the profile.

When he got back to the room, Violet was gone. Spencer was checking everywhere for her screaming her name repeatedly, praying she was just playing games.

Everyone was searching for her, until the woman from the front desk walked in holding a letter

“Someone just dropped this off for Doctor Reid?”

He grabbed it, a little too roughly but understandable for the moment.

“Reid, what does it say?” Hotch asked from across the room.

Spencer shakily held up a pink bow, the one Violet was wearing only an hour ago “He has her”

“Who?”

“The unsub”

Spencer didn’t want to call you, it somehow made it more real. You’d left her with him for an afternoon while you were in court, it was only supposed to be a couple hours.

“How do you think Y/N is going to-“

“You lost my daughter?!” Derek was interrupted by your screaming from the bullpen, hopping off his chair

“I think that answers my question”

The team stepped out of the board room to find you storming over to Spencer’s desk, pounding on his chest, sobbing

“Spence, you better be lying! She better be in there and this is some twisted prank! I can’t lose her, we can’t lose our babygirl-“

He shoves your face into his chest, hushing you “I know, I know I’m so sorry we’re gonna get this guy”

You whimper as you pull back “Why would he take her, what does he want with her?”

He strokes your hair as he whispers “I’m gonna find out”

Days turned over as the team worked the case, constantly hitting brick walls. They couldn’t find this guy.

The team, Spencer specifically had been chasing him for days on end. Constantly showing up to locations just to be let down.

Neither yourself nor Spencer had slept since the day Violet disappeared and with everyday the two of you began to turn against one another.

“We see this with every couple who lose a child, they’re not different because they work with these cases often” Rossi explained as Garcia spilled her worries to the group.

She pouted “they’re so perfect though and, and I don’t want them to fight because we’re going to find Vi, right?”

The team all shared a silent look around the room and Penelope asked again “right?”

JJ sighed and rubbed Penelope’s arm “the first twenty four hours are the most crucial in child kidnappings. They know that. We’re on day three, it’s not unlikely they’re losing hope”

“But, but Violet was the only child-“

Before Garcia could say anything else, your shouting interrupted her. The team looked out the conference room window to find the two of you standing around your desk fighting.

“You lost her! You had one job Spencer!”

“She shouldn’t have even been there, if you had just planned your day instead of tossing her around like a toy like a real mom-“

“Oh so now I’m a bad mom?” You growled, arms crossed over your chest.

Spencer sighed “I didn’t say that, but-“

“But what Spence? But you were supposed to be watching our daughter, but he only took her because of you! He said in his note this was revenge because you shot his girlfriend!” You shouted, now prodding at his chest with every point “This is all you-“

The door to the BAU room swung open, a very disheveled intern from the front desk holding a phone up “Reid?”

“Yes?” Both of you said in unison, ultimately confusing the poor kid.

“Um there’s a little girl on the phone, she says she’s looking for her mommy at the BAU… I don’t know if it’s a prank or-“

He couldn’t finish the sentence before you grabbed the phone “Vi?”

“Mommy…” she whimpered “I got the phone”

You smiled through your tears, so relieved she was alive “You did baby, you did what we told you to. You’re such a good girl”

From a young age you’d both instilled in her what were to happen if she was taken by a stranger - morbid to some but you two had seen your fair share of horrors. Being Liaison you’d seen the countless children in your files.

You’d made her rehearse the number and to ask for the BAU. Her brain similar to her father’s made ingraining this into her somewhat easy.

Behind the phone Spencer was pulling you to the conference room and instructing Penelope to trace the call.

You put her on speaker “Violet, baby we’re all here looking for you sweetheart”

“Why hasn’t daddy found me yet? Is he coming?” She sounded so tired, so defeated.

“I’m here sweetheart, I promise I’m coming to get you” he jumped in, his voice full of emotion.

Spencer stepped back from the table, taking a second to collect himself. His little girl sounded so hurt, so sure he wasn’t coming to save her.

“Auntie Penelope is finding where you are right now baby, don’t hang up” you added, bringing to conversation back to her.

“But what if he comes back? ‘Nelope be quick”

“Don’t hang up sunshine, don’t hang up I’m working as quick as I can” she says, her eyes also full of tears. You’d always wondered why she did this job, everything getting to her.

“I can hear him” she mumbles “I gotta go”

“No!” You all yell at once, before you add “Vi baby, hide the phone but do not hang up!”

Her voice trembled “Mommy I’m scared, please-“

The line ended, the beeping sound of the disconnected call pounding in your ears.

“Got it!” Penelope’s exclamation has your knees weak, you can’t even hear the address she recites. You just follow everyone out the room and to the car.

You don’t end up in with Spencer as usual, instead you’re beside Emily as she drives.

Your knee is jerking up and down, your anxiety tick.

“We’re almost there, we are like three minutes out” she reassured you.

You bit your lip “I just want my babygirl back, I- If I lose her I lose Reid and -“

“That is not going to happen” she assured, voice stern “We heard her, she’s smart you guys have taught her well!”

By the time you had arrived the rest of the team had already entered the house, you could hear the yelling before gunshots.

You gasped, moving faster into the house. You guys found them in the basement, Reid desperately kicking in doors and yelling out Violets name.

You turned to the other corridor, the basement resembling a prison and began doing the same

“Violet?!”

Behind the second door you burst through you heard her before you saw her “Mommy!”

She was laying in the arms of a woman, the latest victim prior to Violet. She had Violet shielded from the door.

Violet threw herself across the room into your arms “You came for me!”

“I did baby, we did. We told you we’d come find you” you held her head in the crook of your neck.

She pulled back to look at the woman, now being helped by Emily “I told you they’d find us, they’re so good”

She smiled softly at Violet, even though she was visibly in pain “You’re a lucky girl”

With Violet’s head nestled in your neck again you mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the woman, a silent way of saying I know you protected my baby

Carrying Violet out into the hallway you saw Spencer, heading towards you stopping dead in his tracks when he saw Violet in your arms.

“Vi, look” you whispered, her head lifting to look at him. She smiled widely, as tired as she was.

“Daddy! You came to save me!” Spencer enclosed his arms around you both, peppering kisses all over Violets face “We’ll always come save you Angel”

There was a mutual look of relief between you both when you looked at him, finally holding your girl again.

On route to the hospital to get Violet checked out she wouldn’t stop babbling “And I wasn’t even scared!”

“You’re so strong sweet girl!” You exclaim, hand gripping her leg from the passenger seat. Your subconscious not wanting to let her go.

When she was taken into the doctors bay to be checked out, you were asked to wait outside; so she could answer some questions without parental pressure.

The second you were alone you looked at Spencer and began to cry, tears running down his cheeks already.

“I thought we lost her” he mumbled “It was all my fault”

“No! No, spence I didn’t mean that-“

“No it was! I was supposed to care for her-“ you stopped him by putting your hand over his mouth

“We’ve got our girl, we’re good parents Spence! We taught her everything she needs to know in these situations. I love you, I love Violet. We’ve got this”

You were basking in the silence together for one moment before you heard Violet yelling “Mommy come find me again!”

You chuckled “coming babygirl! As funny as this moment is with her, she’s gonna need therapy”

Spencer, so seriously replied “oh definitely I’ve already called someone”

[onlyjaeyun]

𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓𝐋𝐘 𝐁𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒 – 𝟑𝟕

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐘𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍: 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬

↬ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐉𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬!𝐀𝐔, 𝐂𝐄𝐎!𝐉𝐚𝐲, 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

↬ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟔.𝟏𝐤

↬ 𝐜𝐰: 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐛𝐯𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬, 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐜/𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐃𝐃/𝐋𝐆 (𝐝𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝟎𝐦/𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐲𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐜𝐬), 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 (𝐦.𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠), 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 (𝟏) 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐤, 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞

Ever since the day Jongseong had decided to add your number to his list of exceptions from his "do not disturb" mode, there's been this certain type of calmness in his chest, knowing he's always available for you.

And despite the fact the two of you had only talked to each other a few hours ago, he couldn't help but be surprised about seeing your name on the display of his phone; especially considering the fact it's way past midnight and you've never been one to stay up this late.

All of a sudden, a jolt of worry rushes through his veins and without missing another beat, he picks up the call.

"Yes, Ba–", and as your soft little cries interrupt him, said worry turns out to be justified.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

From the way none of your responses seem to make sense or are even coherent for the most part, Jay's whole body freezes from the panic of listening to you. Before he can even overthink his actions, he finds himself reaching for his sweater, pulling it over his head and reaching for his car keys in the same moment.

"Stay with me, Baby", he says as calmly as possible, knowing you need the best version of him right now, no matter how much he's internally losing his mind, "I'm on my way."

The young businessman doesn't say another word until he's firmly seated in the driver's seat of his car all while trying his best to calm you down.

But by the time he's on the highway, Jongseong knows he's lost you to a panic attack. Your sobs and breathing heavy to the point where the worry of your lungs actually hyperventilating overwhelms him. His words don't reach you, no matter what and how he says it.

Thousands of possible reasons start rushing around in his head and as he comes to stop at yet another red light, Jay subconsciously makes the decision to have you either move in with him or in one of the apartments in his own complex because there's absolutely no way he's going to let something like this happen ever again.

Knowing you're on the other side of the city, scared, overwhelmed and panicked, unable to handle it all by yourself is breaking his heart in the most painful way possible and the urge to break every single traffic rule suddenly becomes overwhelming.

Jongseong's very much aware that this probably isn't your first panic attack and at the end of the day you somehow would have dealt with it on your own, but you decided to call him because you need him and that's the only thing he cares about.

In all those months of knowing you, the way from his own to your apartment has never, ever felt this long; as if the whole world had collectively decided to test his patience and self control.

By the time he finally parks his car across from your apartment building, a whole eternity has already passed by and the only thing he can focus on is the sound of your little cries and sobs on the other side of the phone.

The boys from your block seem confused and a little surprised to see the young man at such time of the day but upon meeting his worried gaze, none of them dare to say a single word but rather do whatever it takes to get him to you even faster. Seyeon is quick to read Jay as he reaches for his keys and immediately unlocks the front door, nothing but a nod of gratitude being exchanged once he walks into the hallways.

Jongseong never once pulls his phone away from his ear as he basically runs up the stairs ro your apartment, not ready to waste any more time by waiting for the elevator.

His thoughts are racing at such high speed, it feels like their about to shoot out of his ears. Jay has never been this worried or stressed before; the lack of knowledge of the reason behind your panick attack pushing every single one of his buttons, even the ones he didn't even know existed.

"I'm here, Baby, open the door", Jongseong breathes heavily, his voice a little louder and stricter than usual as he hopes for his words to reach you through the sound of your own sobs.

And up until the moment you finally swing open the door, his heart is brutally crashing against his rib cage, just to skip a few beats when the sight of your tear stained face and shaking body hits him like a fist.

"Oh, Baby", is the first thing to leave his lips as he reaches for your body and before he can even pull you closer to his body, you bury your face into his chest and start crying even harder.

Jay wraps his arms around your fragile body without an ounce of hesitation, pulling you even closer against his own as he closes the door behind him and tries his best to calm you down with his words.

"It's okay, pretty girl. I'm here. You're safe", he whispers softly, his heart still hanmering against his rib cage and every single beat hurting his soul the more his brain processes what's actually happening.

Seeing his usually so happy and smiley girl in such a state of devastation feels surreal and if it wasn't for the pain in your little cries, he would have doubted this moment to be actual reality.

Every now and then, Jay gently pulls your face away from his chest to look at you, worried and concerned about your physical health and feeling the need to check if everything is intact.

He has absolutely no idea why you're crying as much as you are. He basically just dropped you off at home again about two hours ago where everything was perfectly fine.

By the time you slowly start calming down in his arms, Jongseong has already painted several thousand possible scenarios in his head and the more time passes without a word from you, the heavier his heart becomes.

And as he gently caresses your back, subconsciously regulating his breathing to give you something to follow, you can physically feel your body coming back to reality.

The blood stops rushing in your ear, your cries slowly dying as your heartbeat finally reaches its regular pace again. All of a sudden the world stops spinning and the heavy feeling of panic and anxiety on your chest slowly disappears.

With tired eyes you lift your head from the crook of Jay's neck to meet his gentle gaze and before you can even react, he takes your face into his big hands and starts nodding at you.

"You're doing so good, Baby", he whispers and pushes the hair out of your face, "breathe with me, yeah? Slowly, you've got this."

Without giving it much thought, mostly because you're way too mentally exhausted to overthink anything, you start imitating his breathing pattern. Inhaling deeply, followed by a short hold of breath and then a long exhale.

It doesn't take you longer than five minutes calm down completely, yet to Jongseong it feels like an eternity.

You let out a soft yet shaky sigh and press your cheek against his strong chest again, your whole body freezing from the cold air in your hallway.

"Let's go to my bedroom", you say, your voice hoarse and raspy from all the sobbing and as soon as those words leave your mouth, Jay finally manages to calm down himself.

He silently follows you through your apartment, a certain type of comfort surrounding him as he holds onto your hand and allows his eyes to graze your place the way he usually does when he comes over.

Jong doesn't know what it is about your home but there's never, ever been a place he's felt as comfortable and safe in as he does in your four walls. He knows you think he's exaggerating because of the size difference in your two apartments, but to him his own is nothing but a place to sleep, whereas yours is an actual home.

He simply can't wait for you to make a home out of his penthouse and finally give him what he's been craving ever since he moved in all those years ago.

With a soft smile of reassurance, you tell Jongseong to get comfortable on your bed as you're getting washed up to be a little more presentable, not even to him but rather to yourself.

Just as usual, he does as he's told and yet can't help but feel tense as you walk into your bathroom, your pretty body covered in nothing but a white little camisole, reminding him why you had asked to come into the warmth of your bedroom in the first place.

Up until the moment you walk through the door again, does he remain as tense and anxious, something so unusual for the young CEO. Growing up the way he did, Jong's simply never had time to lose himself in feelings like this, which is why they now seem so unfamiliar to him.

As you slowly approach him with unsure steps, you can't really tell what's going on in his head and for a moment worry overwhelms you. The first instinct to hit your messy brain after your brother's threatening texts was to call the one man you know would never harm you, yet you never once considered what your current emotional state might do to him.

"I'm sorry, Jongie", you whisper and reach for his face, loving the way he moves further into your touch before placing a row of soft kisses into your palm.

Different than you expect, Jongseong remains quiet. All he does is wrap his fingers around your delicate wrist and pull you closer to his body, silently moving you to straddle his lap before he lets out a soft sigh of relief.

Holding you in his arms like this feels like all the weight has been taken off of his shoulders and for the first time in the past hour, he feels like he can actually breathe.

"Don't be sorry, my pretty girl", he whispers into your ear and gives you a soft kiss on the temple, "I'm just glad you're okay now."

"But I scared you", you reply shyly and pull away from him, nervously playing with the little chain around his neck and intentionally avoiding his gaze, "and I worried you."

"Yes, Baby", Jongseong doesn't hold back with his response, the need to hear your voice too intense, "and yet you made me the proudest man ever. I know calling me wasn't easy. You did so well, pretty girl."

His words surprise you, to say the least. You tend to forget just how soft spoken and gentle Jongseong is compared to all the other men in your life. And as your brain slowly processes his soft words of affirmation and reassurance, you can't help but tear up again.

A very familiar haze starts taking over your brain and for a moment you feel like you're about to fall asleep just from those few words.

"Thank you, Jongie", you whisper and subconsciously bite your tongue to hold yourself back from calling him that tiny little title you've always been oh so hesitant with.

You know how forbidden and scandalous it is, how some people won't ever understand why one would find an inch of pleasure in such a word, yet to you it's always been nothing but comfort.

Yet the fear of scaring him away or even worse, disgust him with your choice of sexual comfort is way too consuming to even consider opening up such a topic any time soon.

Maybe in a few months when the two of you have surpassed a certain point, you'll find the courage to go up and talk to Jongseong about your deep desires. But for now you're more than just content keeping them to yourself if that means to satisfy him.

"Do you wanna tell me what this is about, Baby? Do you feel comfortable enough to do it?"

His voice is calm and soft, his embrace taking over every single one of your senses and as soon as Jongseong takes your face into his big hands, you feel yourself ready to do whatever he asks of you.

"My older b-brother texted me, he somehow got access to my number", you reply and feel the knot in your throat returning in an instant, "he threatened to hurt the men you've hired, as well as you and me and then he–", but your voice betrays you as it breaks at the end of your sentence.

Jongseong gently pulls you into a soft kiss, pressing his lips gently against yours yet not expecting your hungry reciprocation. With a soft sigh he allows you to lead the kiss, swallowing your little whines as he waits for you to calm down.

"Keep going now, Baby", Jongseong whispers against your lips, a sweet blush covering the apples of his cheeks as he looks at you with adoration gleaming in his pretty eyes, "you're almost there. I know you can do it."

You nod softly, pushing your hands into his hair and pressing yourself further against his chest to calm the racing of your heart, all while subconsciously ignoring the growing wet spot in the center of your panties.

It's just another day of your body betraying you by mistaking sexual arousal with genuine comfort and the feeling of security.

"He implied something about finding out where I live and that sent me into a panic attack because I know – I don't – what if he hurts me again, Jongie?"

The tears have yet again blurred your vision as you struggle to breathe and look up at the young business man with a quivering bottom lip.

Jongseong's reaction is quick, his big hand gently holding your face as he starts taking one deep breath after the other until your pattern matches his.

"That's my good girl", he whispers and gives you a soft kiss, "that was great, Baby. I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you, Jay", you sigh and move further into his soft touch, trying to ignore the warmth pooling in your lower stomach from how much his gentleness is affecting you.

"How about you stay with me after the trip to Jeju and then we'll figure everything out once we're back, hm? If you don't want to stay with me for a longer time I'll make sure to hire two bodyguards of mine to watch over you through the day as well as have them stand in front of your door during the night."

His offer is exactly what you needed to hear and you can't believe how it instantly sends jolts of calmness through your body, easily suppressing the anxiety in your veins and with a soft smile you nod.

"Thank you for letting me help you, Baby", Jay sighs and places a soft kiss on your neck, his big hands firmly placed on your waist, "I'd do everything to keep you safe and protected. They won't ever hurt you again, my angel. Not as long as I am around."

Maybe it's the sound of his voice or his choice of words, maybe it's the genuineness nehind it all and maybe, just maybe it's because you've never felt as comfortable and safe with a man as you doneith Park Jongseong, yet regardless of the reason, you find yourself slowly turning off your brain and with a soft sigh, you bury your face in his neck and start squirming in his lap.

The urge to be as physically close to him as possible has already taken over every single one of your senses and at this point you're just tired of fighting against yourself.

"Easy there, angel girl", Jongseong suddenly grunts and digs his fingers deeper into your skin, the soft pain sending yet another jolt of arousal straight into your cunt.

"I don't have much self control when it comes to you, Baby, I don't wanna hurt your heart", he whispers and throws his head back when you suddenly start littering his neck in soft, open mouthed kisses. The feeling of your tongue licking over the little spots on his skin as well as the feeling of your warm, barely clothed cunt against his cock send his brain into overdrive and Jay knows he has to stop this or he'll lose his composure.

"Don't", you reply calmly, looking up at him with big, glassy eyes and your pretty lips pushed into the cutest little pout, "please, Da – Jongie, I want you so bad. Need you to make me forget again."

You're quick to save your little slip up, despite the heavy cloud surrounding your brain and as you allow yourself to roam his handsome face with hungry eyes, you realise he's way too gone to have noticed.

Jongseong on the other hand is convinced his brain is playing games with him. You didn't actually just almost call him by that fucking title he's been daydreaming about ever since the first day he's met you. It's just his stupid head and the pain urging from his now rock hard cock. There's absolutely no way.

"Look at me, Baby", he grunts softly, his big hand wrapping around your throat to make you follow his request, "I need you to tell me exactly what you want, yeah? Can you be a good girl and use your words for me again?"

You don't even think a single thought, just nodding in response to his sweet request.

"I wanna ride you, Jongie", you sigh as your hands find home in his thick hair, pulling on the dark strands gently and slowly grinding your hips against his, "I miss feeling you inside of me."

"F-Fuck", his response is instinctive, more of a reflex than anything else and with a deep grunt, Jongseong throws his head back to enjoy the feeling of pleasure filling his veins.

"That's my good girl", Jay growls deeply, lightheaded and slightly dizzy the more his body loses itself in the sweetness of your touch, "Daddy's perfect little angel."

It takes him a whole second to realise what the fuck had just slipped past his lips and with wide eyes Jay finds himself staring at the ceiling.

All of a sudden his heart starts hammering against his ribcage, anxiety and fear of your possible reaction to the sudden exposure to his most treasured and well hidden kink.

You two have talked about quite a few things but this never felt fitting enough to bring up ag any given point and for some reason, Jay can't help but be genuinely afraid.

His previous partners never enjoyed it the way he wanted them to. They usually only played along in bed because they knew he liked it and the fear of you doing the same has the knot in his throat double in its size.

"I'm so fucking sorry", he whispers and finally gets himself to look at you, yet skillfully avoiding your eyes.

He's not quite ready for a heartbreak of this sort, not when he literally just regained your trust.

"It won't ever happen again, Baby, I promise. Please just forget I said it. I'm so ashamed."

Yet again, a million possible scenarios start flooding his mind and not a single one preparing him for your actual reaction.

As you watch the young CEO obviously struggling internally, you can't help but feel relieved.

You've always hoped that he'd be into this as much as you are, especially after the first time the two of you had gotten intimate but for some reason it's so much better, more fulfilling than you could have ever imagined.

Similar to Jay's experiences, you've rather been hesitant about revealing this particular fantasy to your previous boyfriends, mostly because you know they either disliked it or even thought of it as weird and disgusting.

And the one who didn't really care about it usually never reciprocated your urges and just let you use the title for him, something you quickly pushed yourself to let go of to save your dignity and heart. Ever since that you had promised yourself to never, ever give this to someone unworthy again.

And now here you are.

In the arms of a man who got so lost in his pleasure and want for you, he actually slipped into the designated role without your initiation.

"No, please", you whisper, a thin veil of tears blurring your vision as you take his face into your shaky hands, your body actually overwhelmed by all the emotions, "I've dreamed about this for so long."

"It's okay, Baby, you don't have to play along if you don't like it. There's no need for you to indulge in it, I'll be–", but you don't give him the opportunity to finish his rejection, too consumed by him.

"Please, Daddy", your voice is small as you're too afraid of bursting into tears, "don't take this away from me again. I need it so bad."

"My Baby."

This time, Jongseong's voice is filled with relief, the excitement reaching his pretty eyes as he takes in the sight of his pretty girl on his lap; the sound of you referring to him the way he's been fantasising about for longer than he'd like to admit constantly replaying in his mind.

"Only yours", you say confidently and nudge his nose with yours before the tension finally becomes too much and you needily pull him into a deep kiss.

Despite having done it a fair amount of times, you don't think you'll ever get used to kissing Park Jongseong.

It's rhe way he allows you to lead the kiss all while maintaining the control. Each time your lips meet his, you feel your cunt clenching in despair and the wet spot in your panties doubling in its size with every second passing by.

Just as usual, it starts off slow and gentle, only for the hunger to overwhelm the both of you and before you can even realise it, you find yourself sucking his tongue into your mouth as you shamelessly grind your clothed cunt against the hard bulge in his sweats.

You quickly swallow all of his deep grunts and heavy moans, loving the way his taste consumes your senses and Jay doesn't seem afraid of letting you know just how good you're making him feel.

With a tiny ltitle whine you make your way to his chin all the way down to his neck just to cover his soft skin in open mouthed kisses. You know you can't leave your marks, he's a business man after all, yet you can't take it away from yourself to avoid the pretty little birthmark on the left side of his neck.

"There you go, that's Daddy's good girl", Jay grunts as soon as you suck the skin into your mouth and basically set his whole body on fire.

The hoodie he's wearing has never felt as suffocating as it does in this particular moment, but you're faster than he is.

You're eager and needy, too far gone to even notice the look of pride grazing his features when you reach for the hem of his hoodie and pulling it over his head along with his shirt.

Jongseong's usually not the type to let go of his control so easily but the way you simply take what you want because you know he'd give it to you anyway makes him want to become nothing but the realisations of your deepest fantasies.

With other women he'd feel the need to remain composed and collected but with each one of your needy kisses down his tattoo covered chest, Jay can tell how much you're enjoying his compliance.

The sudden worry about not being what you actually want however, remains in the back of his mind as he watches you climb down his lap and in between his spread legs to litter every ounce of skin in your sweet kisses.

"Baby", he grunts and chokes on his breath at the same time, the unexpected grip on his hard cock leaving him overwhelmed, "let Daddy take care of you, please. Be a good girl for me."

But his words fall on deaf ears. You've been dreaming and fantasising about pleasuring him for the past who knows how long and after allowing him to do as he's just said, you're degermined to finally give him back what he deserves.

"Angel girl, ple–", "Please, Daddy. I wanna make you feel good, too. Want to be what you deserve."

"Oh, Baby. You always make me feel so good. You take such good care of me, I'm so fucking lucky."

Just as usual, Jongseong's words instantly push you into the sweetest headspace you've ever been in and with a little pout, you press your cheek against his clothed thigh too look up at him, not knowing what that particular sight is doing to the young businessman.

"Go ahead, Baby", he sighs and caresses your cheek with his knuckles, "do whatever you want to me. Daddy's all yours. use me, my body, my cock, it all belongs to you. I belong to you, pretty girl."

You feel hypnotised by the way he speaks to you. Every word seems to carry a single emotion, yet all of them ooze nothing but affection and adoration, something you have never experienced in your life before.

Which is probably why you don't even manage to form a simple sentence, just greedily reaching for the babd of his sweats, only for Jay to stop you mid-movement.

"Good girls use their manners, Baby. You always respond to Daddy, okay?"

"Yes, Daddy."

The response easily slides off your tongue and the look of pride in Jongseong's pretty eyes leaves you lightheaded.

And within just a few seconds, you carelessly disregard Jay's sweats along with his boxers on your bedfoom floor, your whole focus remaining on his thick cock in your hands.

Different than he would have expected, you don't hesitate to wrap your pretty lips around his leaking tip, your tongue lapping up every drop of precum before you decided to pull away and lick your way from his shaft all the way up, easily eliciting a row of deep moans from your usually so composed boss.

"That's it, Baby, so f-fucking good." Of course Jay doesn't hold back with his praise as the feeling of your hot mouth around his throbbing cock sends dizzying jolts of pleasure through his whole body.

You're quick to take more than half of his length into your mouth, tryingy our best to get as much as possible, only for your gag reflex to stop you.

"It's okay, pretty girl", Jong reassures you upon noticing the way you've furrowed your brows in frustration, too adamant about taking the entirety of his impressize size down your throat, "we'll work on that some other time, yeah? You're doing ducking amazing for me, making me feel so good."

"Thank you, Daddy", you sigh and rub rhe tip of his cock against your saliva covered lips, spreading his precum all over them as you look up at him with those eyes.

Jay's never seen eyes as pretty as yours and if it wasn't for the way you're bavk to wrapping your lips around his cock, he would have spent another fifteen minutes just admiring how pretty they are.

"F-Fuck, Baby", the feeling of hitting the back of your tight throat has his toes curling in despair, "wanna come and sit on my cock now, hm? Am not gonna last much longer, I've missed you too much and your mouth is t-too good."

To hear a usually so confident and well spoken Park Jongseong stumbling over his words like a child is something you never knew you need up until this particular moment.

For a second, you don't even understand what he's saying, too focuse on the way he seems to feel to even stutter.

"Baby", this time his voice gives off more warning vibes and make you realise that you've been subconsciously sucking on the tip of his to gue while being stuck in awe about his mannerisms.

"Take those pretty panties off, leave the camisole on and sit on Daddy's cock. Wanna cum inside of that pretty little cunt."

"Mhm, yes", you reply hectically, standing on yojr knees in between his legs, only to stop in your tracks and correct yourself with wide eyes, "I mean – yes, Daddy."

"Good girl", Jay leans back with his lips stretching into one of his pretty smirks as he casually watches the way you clumsily pull your drenched panties down your thighs and then your legs.

"Show them to me", he suddenly demands, his big hand firmly placed on your naked thigh, gently groping the soft flesh, "I wanna see what a mess you've made of yourself just from sucking Daddy's cock."

"But – it's embarrassing", you whisper shyly and push his hand higher up your body, knowing he'll understand exactly what you want and as soon as Jay take sone of your sensitive tits into his big palm, you cock your head to the side and pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Come on, Baby, there's no need to be embarrassed. I carry great pride in what only I can do to you and that perfect pussy", he mumbles and yet again easily convinces you to just as you're told, so without missing another beat, you lift your panties up and show him the big, wet spot in the center of the soft fabric.

"Good girl. Now get on my lap, pretty girl and sit on my cock, show me how good you can take me."

And as you've come to realise in the past few weeks, you don't need to be told twice when it comes to Park Jongseong.

With your bottom lip firmly tugged between your teeth, you straddle his thighs and let out a loud whine at the feeling of his bare cock against your wet cunt, the sudden stimulation resulting in you almost instantly burying your face in his neck.

"You're so fucking wet, Baby", Jay geunts and guides your hips to move your oussy against the length of his sensitive cock.

"For you, Daddy", you whimper and suddenly lift your hips up right before pushing your hand in between your bodies to take hold of him, "only for you."

"That's my good girl. My perfect little angel, come on, guide me inside and look at me while you do it. Wanna see how good you look when you're taking my cock."

You're already following his instructions before he can finish speaking, his voice growing more and more hoarse as you rub the tip of his cock against the hot flesh of your wet cunt, only to line it up with your sensitive hole right after.

Not a single word is being exchanged from the moment you slowly start sinking down on his thick cock. The stretch this part comes with usually enough to drown the both of you in the rawest pleasure possible.

Your high pitched moans meet his deep grunts in the thick air of your bedroom and as he finally bottoms out, your reach behind him to hold onto the headboard of your bed, your knuckles turning white from your tight grip but there's no way you can stop yourself from cumming all over him if not for tensing all your muscles.

"Fuck", is the first coherent thing to fall pst Jay's swollen lips, "you're so fucking tight, Baby. It's like I didn't spend hours stretching you out before."

You try to move, yet are quickly humbled when a stingy pain shoots through your body and you know you have to wait another minute to adjust to his impressive size.

"It's because you're so big, Daddy", you whimper and look at him with big, glossy eyes.

"Yeah? Is it big, Baby? Too big for your tiny cunt, hm?", a hint of faux sympathy echoes in his deep voice and you can't help but whine in response to his slightly teasing tone.

You start nodding like you've lost every single word in your vocabulary,

It doesn't take you as long as you initially thought and by the time Jay throws his head back to let out one of the hottest moans you've ever heard, you've already figured out a rhythm which hits each and every single one of your sweet spots.

Of course Jongseong doesn't hold back with his dirty words, continually talks about how good you feel, you tight you are and how he's going to fill you up to the brim with his cum because food girls deserve just that.

You're nothing but a mess, not a single understandable word leaving your lips, just a row of needy whines and high pitched whimpers begging him to just please never stop.

You're so far gone, so lost in the sweet haze of your pleasure, you don't even notice the way Jay sneaks his hand between your bodies and casually starts rubbing firm circles into your hardened clit.

"Oh", you moan and look at him with big eyes when he suddenly meets the movements of your hips with his own thrusts, easily hitting that one particular spot inside of you until you can actually taste the sweetness of your high on the tip of your tongue.

"I can feel it", Jay chuckles and pushes his hand into your hair to geab a fistful of it, pulling your face closer to his, "you're going to cum for me, aren't you, Baby? Gonna make a mess of Daddy's cock like the good girl you are, isn't that right, my sweet angel?"

"Yes, Daddy", you whine and push your forehead against his, heavily breathing against his lips as your moans become louder by the second.

"Look at my pretty little girl, using her Daddy's cock like she owns it." You know he's teasing you, pushing you to the edge and playing with your patience, yet at this point there's no way for you to think the slightest bit rationally.

"Because I do", you say firmly, "it's mine. You belong to me."

"Fuck, yes", Jay lands a harsh spank on your sensitive ass, never once halting his hips from thrusting up into you, "claim me, Baby. I'm all yours. You fucking own me."

And it's those exact words of affirmation which finally push you over the edge and leave you absolutely breathless as you stumble head first into your much needed high.

As soon as your toght cunt starts tightening even more around his sensitive cock, Jongseong presses his lips against yours and quickly thrusts his cock all the way into you, making sure to graze the entrance of your womb with his tip just so he can fill you up with every single drop of his cum.

Heavy breathing, a mixture of his grunts and your moans as well as the thick scent of sex fills the space of your bedroom while the two of you try to calm yourselves down and if there's one thing as satisfying as the act kn itself to you, it's the aftermath.

"So fucking good", Jongseong sighs and wraps his arms around your shoulders, "you fucked me so well, Baby. Daddy's so proud of you."

For some reason those heartfelt words hit you a lot harder than you expected and with gesry eyes you lift your head from his neck to meet his tired gaze.

"Thank you, Daddy", you whisper against his lips and love the way Jay doesn't hesitate to kiss you.

"Let's calm down and then I'm gonna pamper you like a good girl deserves, yeah? Gonna let Daddy take over mow, hm? Is that okay, angel girl?"

Who in their right mind would ever reject such a sweet request?

And just as usual, Jongseong stays true to his words and gives you the sweetest, most gentle and genuine aftercare you've ever experienced. Not only does he run you a bath, he also makes sure to keep you hydrated, massage your body, take care of your night time skincare routine, feed you snacks and hold you close to his body as you allow the exhaustion of the day finally get the best of you.

"You're so good to me, Daddy", you mumble against his chest and place a soft kiss against his warm skin, not knowing you're driving rhe butterflies in his stomach into insanity, "thank you so much."

"Anything for my perfect girl. I'd lay the world to your feet if you let me, Baby. Thank you for giving me what I've been missing all my life."

← 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 — 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 — 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 →

(A/N: AND IT FINALLY HAPPENED 🤕 im super sleepy rn so pls ignore the typos but omg you guys have no idea how patiently ive been counting down the chaps and we have finally made it. daddy dom jongseong has officially entered the chat and i'm SO ready fo indulge in it. please please please dont hold back with letting me know what you think, you guys know inlove reading y'all's thoughts 🥺 thank you sm for all the love and support, sendinc everyone kisses! feedback in form of asks, comments or messages is always appreciated babies!💞🧸)

TAGLIST CLOSED: @soonigiri @xrr-s4sha @kwiwin @heelcvr @deobitifull @kpoprhia @doodlelibrary @abrazosolorcereza @certifiedmoa @sleeping-demons @heerinnie @ohmy-moonlightx @heeswif3y @hoonieluv @fakeuwus @jjaeyuns @cheybabey @ineedsomezzz @super-amberlynn @kshoshi @tinie03 @jseongies @mimikittysblog @primroselover @heebrry @jebetwo @donghyckl @07myonlylove @enhamysunshines @quemirasboboandapaya @lostwonderwall @seuomo @enhaz1 @teawithbucky @beomgyusonlywife @dammit-jjk @lhsvibez @azurez @boutyouwonu @finchyyy @ocyeanicc @jaylaxies @in-somnias-world @zerasari @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @capri-cuntz @fluerz @3amstarlight

[bejeweledblondie]

Captain John Price Headcannons

A/N: these are as realistic as I can make ‘em about to be, all of the headcannons I have are inspired by my personal experiences living on a military base & the experiences I’ve had with foreign military (even the Brits, playing cards against humanity with them was interesting)

Captain John Price x F! Reader

• You & Price met through Laswell, you were her intern turned assistant you had gone to college for international relations

• Your intelligence sparked his interest, Laswell had to do a whole presentation on their Task Force should interact with the women in some of the countries they completed missions in

• He was fully attentive & took notes the entire time

• When Price had asked you to dinner it took you by surprise initially, you were oblivious to his small gestures

• He’d bring you coffee, always visit you at least once a day, & would offer to carry your bag into the office

• He took you to a nice little Italian restaurant

• He opened the car door, made you walk on the inside of the street, pulled you chair out etc.

• His parents & grandparents raised him to be a proper gentleman

• He ordered the nicest wine for the both of you

• Afterwards, you guys walked around & just chatted, the conversation flowed beautifully

• When he drove you home he walked you to your door & you kissed him goodnight, once you closed the door he had a shit eating grin

• That following Monday a giant bouquet of roses sitting on your desk with a sweet note from him

• He’s so sweet on you, a true gentleman

•He found out how much you loved dogs & gifted you a golden retriever puppy

• You cried when he gifted the puppy to you

• After a year & a half of being together he proposed to you

• He used the Diamond from his grandmothers ring as your center stone, & he spent months with a jeweler custom making

• Laswell knew the entire time while he was planning the proposal & the ring

• Your wedding was a winter one the week after Christmas so everyone was able to take leave

• Soap, Simon, & other men he had served with were all part of the Saber exit you had at the end of your ceremony

• Soap was the one who cheekily tapped your behind with his saber to “properly” welcome you into the military

• “Mrs. Captain Jonathan Price, welcome to His Majesty’s Army”

• You guys opted for a nice cottage near post because on post housing absolutely sucks

• Shortly after you two had moved in, you had found out you were pregnant

• It terrified you initially & you came up with a creative way to tell John

• You picked up some Army themed baby onesies at the on post NAAFI (the British equivalent of the U.S. Militaries Post Exchange)

• You told him once he got home he had a gift waiting for him & he initially looked confused at the baby onesies, then it clicked

• The both of you decided to hold off on telling everyone until you were far enough long & starting to show

• You both decided to wait to find out the gender

• He treats you like a China doll while you’re pregnant (along with everyone else)

• You’d wake up to him talking to your stomach, he’d tell your baby all about his day

• In office surprise baby shower happened & everyone went ham with the gift buying

• An emergency hostage rescue operation came across Laswell’s desk the week you were due

• You sobbed into him when he told you, he absolutely hated seeing you this sad

• Like clockwork the night he was already mid-mission, once he got back Laswell informed him you were in full blown labor

• John was crushed, one of the nurses held your phone up so he could at least watch his baby being born on screen

• He broke down once he heard the cries of their infant coming into world

• It was a boy, you decided to name him John as well both after his father & grandfather

• He met you in the hospital 12 hours later still in his gear

• As soon as he possibly could this man brought y’all’s son to work

• Laswell was all over him, constantly wanting to hold him

• You do own Tactical Baby Gear with “Price” plastered all over it

• I don’t think you’d return to work after having your first kid tbh… it would’ve been too stressful with Price’s job

• You two definitely have more children, two boys & one girl

• Price 100% coaches your sons soccer (or if you’re not American; football) team

• Your little girl has him wrapped around her finger (along with her “uncles)

• He would sport a tiara & boa for her tea parties (any “uncle” that came over would too)

• He brought his daughter & her little friends to the Eras Tour (he had a blast btw)

• I think your two sons would join the army to follow in their father’s footsteps

• He was so proud when they graduated from Basic Training

• Price on the battlefield is a hardened man but as soon as he walked into your home his hard exterior dropped & he’d go full on domestic he truly loves you & the life you two had built

✨NSFW✨

• Price was the one who had been your first, due to the fact you focused more on school & your studies you hadn’t been with anyone else

• He wears that like a badge of honor, knowing he was the first & only one to show you how you should be treated in bed

• somewhat discreet office sex

• you’d like out a whimper or a moan & he’d whisper “mmmm you gotta be quiet sweetheart, you don’t want anyone to walk in hmmm”

• you have sucked him off while he’d been on calls in his own office

• he smokes cigars while you ride him in your backyard’s hot tub

• you’re a moaning mess on his cock & he’s just taking in the view of you bouncing up & down on him

• he’s 100% an ass man

• has a HUGE corruption kink, & loves being called “daddy” or “captain”

• he has a collection of nude Polaroids of you hidden in his bucket hat, Soap accidentally found one that had fallen out & Price immediately ripped it from his hands

• He definitely bought you sex toys before he leaves for deployment

• you two go at it like rabbits when he comes home (makes sense how y’all have three kids)

• you gave him a blow job after he was honored at a military ball in the bathroom, as a thank you for his service 😏

• People assume you two are vanilla & bland in the bedroom as oatmeal but boy looks can be deceiving

[mothiir]

story time with isaiah

I can’t stop writing for these boys I love them.

Cw for caning, descriptions of blood.

—

—

It has been just under a month, and the Emperor — in His most glorious and unending mercy — has seen fit to continue to conceal your existence from the rest of Isaiah’s battle brothers. He and Reuben benefit from your redemptive labour, as you atone for your extensive sins by darning their socks, polishing their armour, and keeping their dormitory spotless.

With a little satisfied sound, you set aside your mending. You have been piecing Brother Reuben’s hair shirt back together, and your fingers are raw from handling the tough wool. Isaiah smells the iron tang of your blood.

You stretch your arms up over, closing your eyes as your joints click. Isaiah looks up from his current dedication — transcribing the life and times of Saint Celestine onto fresh parchment in his neatest handwriting — and sees that you are relaxing back into your bunk. His brow furrows a little. It is not time for you to sleep, and you show no signs of engaging in contemplation of the Emperor’s many noble deeds — though perhaps you are doing this internally? 

“Free time is an affront to the Emperor, little mortal,” he says, dipping his quill into ochre-red ink to outline the title of the newest segment, wherein Saint Celestine engaged in combat with a daemonette of Slaanesh and defeated it. This segment is an especially lengthy one, and well-illustrated, and he wants to do it justice. “Ensure at all times you keep Him in your thoughts.”

”Yes, my lord,” you say, eyes snapping open — a sure sign of guilt. One of your hands protectively rests over the hair shirt, probably recalling the last time that Isaiah had seen fit to bless you with more work. “No need to tear this, lord, I am more than happy to keep the Emperor in my thoughts while uh —“

Isaiah sighs, setting the quill down. Since the dormitory now only holds two Templars, he and Reuben have been able to redecorate, hammering the unused bunks into a workstation, pushed up against the wall. Their trunks serve as an adequate chair, tough durasteel enough to support the bulk of an Astartes — providing the Astartes in question is not armoured. 

“I am not going to tear the shirt, girl. I tore those socks because you showed an uncouth amount of joy in finishing your work for the day. And — besides, that is not the subject of discussion,” he says, thankful that Brother Reuben is not here, otherwise he would once again find himself rehashing an old absurd argument. Brother Reuben had objected to ‘his underwear being used as part of a pointless lesson and now she is upset and my feet are cold’. 

You had, admittedly, been a little upset — uttering little hitching squeaks, like you were swallowing back sobs — but Isaiah maintains it was an important chance to practice the virtue of patience, and you had restitched all of the socks in record time, so what was the harm done?

Still. Perhaps this is a chance to impart a gentler kind of lesson. Good relations with lesser mortals is an essential part of serving the Emperor. 

“Have you ever heard the tale of Saint Celestine?” he says instead. To his surprise, you brighten up. 

“Yes, my lord! I saw the latest holo about her before uh — before my world was cleansed in Holy Fire. Though of course it may have been a corrupted version of the story and uh—“

You are babbling. You often do this, and Brother Reuben has assured him that it is not a fault in your genetics, but a natural consequence of your human frailty. Isaiah cuts you off.

”I will teach you one of her many victories,” he says, “and of how her undying faith in the Emperor brought glory to both her and those who fought beside her.”

He turns away from his manuscript, folds his hands in his lap, and begins the tale. Saint Celestine was once a member of the Adepta Sororitas’ Order of Our Martyred Lady…

—

Just over an hour later, he finishes up the tale of how she appeared in glorious golden raiment to the beleaguered defenders of the city of Karlstadt, who were standing proud against the hideous assembled forces of heresy and ruin. How she had drawn her blessed blade and sliced apart the daemons arrayed before her. How she had blessed the inhabitants of the city, before fading into the rising sun like a dream of better times.

“That was beautiful,” you say. Isaiah had been staring off into the middle distance, allowing his eidetic memory to take hold of his tongue — but at your voice he focuses on you, gratified by the adoration in your eyes. The Living Saint is a balm to the faithful, and a scourge to the heretic.

“It is, is it not? Now, you recite it.”

Silence. You blink at him in puzzlement.

”You recite it,” he prompts. “So that you may tell the story to others.”

”Oh — uh — well, once there was…”

”No, no, no,” he says. “That is not correct. You must recite it exactly as I did, with the same words — this is how it was taught to me, and it is how it must be taught to you.”

”The — the exact same words?” you say, starting to grow flustered, your hands twisting into the hair shirt. The movement agitates the wounds on your hands, filling the air once more with the fragrance of your blood, and it gives Isaiah a splendid idea. 

“Yes. Do not worry, I will help with your memory — I understand that it is far inferior to mine.”

He looks around for a suitable implement. His warhammer is too heavy; his bolter far too precious. He reaches up to one of the unused wooden shelves and, with very little effort, rips it out of the metal brackets, before splintering it with a single crushing fist. 

“…my lord?” you say, sounding nervous. Isaiah smiles in what he hopes is a soothing way. 

“Do not be worried. I understand that your lapses in memory are not a sign of heresy, only of your own feeble genetics. This is a method that I was blessed to experience as a neophyte, before my implants worked fully, and it worked very well.”

He extracts the longest piece of wood, and uses his thumbnail to polish it, turning ragged pulp into a more suitable smoothness. He swishes it experimentally. Perfect.

“Now,” he says sunnily. “I will say a segment of the tale; you will repeat it. Every time you get it wrong, I shall give you a little tap with this. The pain focuses your mind, and ensures that next time you will not forget!”

”Uh — I do not think that is necessary my lord —“

You are hunched like a Jerboa about to bolt, smelling of fear. Isaiah sighs. 

“Girl, please do not be ungrateful. I am trying to bestow the Emperor’s kindness upon you. Now give me your hand.”

Your arm trembles, but you still extend your palm, fingers curled protectively over it. Just as he is about to begin the exercise, he recalls Brother Reuben’s fury at his torn socks. Ah. Yes. Anything that will hinder your ability to work is probably going to cause issues with his battle brother — and baseline humans take so long to heal. 

The soles of your feet? No, he cannot have you unable to stand. Your back? No — you need to hunch over your mending. Your face? Some of the serfs ritually scar themselves as part of their penance.

No. Not your face. That is a little dramatic for something as trivial as learning a story. 

And then it occurs to him in a lightning flash — of course! 

“Kindly lift your skirt up and bend over the bed,” he says, thanking the Emperor for His guidance. If you struggle to sit down then that is no problem — you can sew standing up! And you can sleep on your front, so it will not even affect your lengthy and inefficient spells of rest. 

You make a strange strangled sound. 

“My — my lord?” you manage, and that warm feeling kindles once more in his belly. Bringing a waif to the Emperor’s light; imparting unto you stories normally reserved for Astartes. It makes him feel all happy and tingly in a way he usually associates with a battle hard won, or an especially entertaining heretic burning. 

“Hurry up now,” he says, indicating the bunk. You look behind you, as if expecting Brother Reuben to materialise with his usual rebukes, but he is busy in the chapel (though Isaiah cannot imagine what possible issue his brother could have with this plan). 

Trembling like a new fawn, you bend over the bunk, propping your elbows on it. 

“Your skirt too,” Isaiah says, helpfully. “If fabric gets into the wounds it can cause infection, and that is a serious matter for a baseline.”

You inch your skirt up in little shuddering movements that Isaiah finds absolutely hypnotic for reasons he cannot quite understand. You bare plump, tender flesh — thighs sweeping up to the curve of your buttocks, which quiver under his gaze. 

“Do you not have any undergarments?” he says. 

“I did,” you say, after a moment. “They uh. They vanished.”

How baffling. Humans are absentminded to the extreme — perhaps you mislaid them? He will have to ask Brother Reuben of their whereabouts. 

“Now,” he says. His mouth feels odd — a little too dry. He swallows a few times, rolling his tongue against the soft insides of his cheeks, wondering briefly — absurdly — if your skin would feel as soft against the press of his fingers. ”Let us begin.”

—

You start off so well, parroting back the first few sentences he recites for you almost down to his intonation. Alas, you are still only a human, and the mistakes soon begin —

“…for Saint Celestine appeared in —“

Wssshhh goes the instrument, and you squeal. Your buttocks jiggle in a way that would definitely distract a lesser man; but Isaiah is completely devoted to the Emperor’s word, and thus does not take more than forty five seconds to watch them move as you squirm in pain. He thought the strike was gentle, but your flesh is softer than butter, slicing open with the least touch. 

“You missed something out,” he says, after his momentary pause. “Try again.”

”I am sorry — ow that hurts — uh — “

This time, you get the phrasing right (‘miraculously appeared’ not just ‘appeared’), and proceed until —

“—her hair of gold — “

Another strike. The flesh of your rear splits like ripened fruit, and you yowl. 

“Hair of black, eyes of gold,” Isaiah corrects patiently. It is just as well he has taken you under his wing. The way you squirm and squeak is most immodest, and he is certain that none of the other serfs take discipline with the same lack of dignity. 

“Hair of — hair of black, eyes of — eyes of gold —“

He forgives you the stammer, but he cannot forgive the lapse that follows, as you describe Saint Celestine’s armour as ‘radiant’ rather than ‘luminous’. This time, Isaiah is most careful with his blow, and your skin only flares bright pink, rather than splitting asunder. You still whimper and wriggle as though he has made you bleed, which is most unbecoming. 

“Do try and endure the pain,” he tells you. “There is no need to be so…squirmy.”

Once again, he thanks the Emperor for guiding you to him, and not to a man with less moral fortitude, because the way the blood slicks over the curve of your rump and glistens would almost certainly lead a lesser man to sinful contemplation. 

The next lashes — earned through forgetting four of Saint Celestine’s thirty eight titles — have you blubbering, your face pressed into the blankets. Your buttocks, and the upper parts of your thighs, are streaked purple and pink with bruising, and blood drips down towards the backs of your knees. It smells bright and fresh — somehow more pleasing than the foul blood of xenos or heretics. Perhaps because it was shed by a penitent in service to the Emperor, not one of His enemies? Though Osric and Jean’s blood never smelled quite so…delicious. 

Hm. When did he last eat? Maybe he has been fasting overly much. That must be the reason his stomach tightens so.

You burble a slurry of sound into the mattress — even to his trained ear it barely resembles Gothic. 

“You’re not even halfway through memorising this,” he chides, and you manage another hiccuping attempt at repeating the conversation between Saint Celestine and her former Battle Sister Augusta. It is a most touching soliloquy on the importance of placing your faith in the Emperor, but —

“—and I will — I will do I must and take Him inside me, and let His will fill me like a flood — nay, like an ocean. His Holy Fire will spill deep inside my body —“

— for some reason it sounds a little different when you say it. His cheeks warm. 

Still, the technique is working. He finds he has to hit you less and less as you continue; the pain sharpening your mind, clearing the fog of doubt, permitting the Emperor’s words to penetrate. 

Finally, your approach the denouement, where Saint Celestine addresses the Emperor directly in prayer —

“My Lord, I beg of you to fill my humble body up —“

He strikes you without thinking.

“Wha — what did I get wrong?” you squeal, and it takes a moment for Isaiah to focus. He is staring at the jiggle of your thighs as you heave in desperate, pained breaths — by the Emperor’s light, clearly he has not done his job in teaching you how to best conduct yourself, because you are responding to proper discipline like a whore. Your spine arches as you try fruitlessly to escape; your eyes are wet and red-rimmed; your lips slick with spittle. Do you realise what you are doing? Ignorance is no defence against judgement; Isaiah could build a new monastery with the bones of those he has slain whose only crime was ignorance. 

Isaiah presses one hand on the small of your back, pressing down just enough to calm your twitching. He feels your heartbeat echo up through his palm; the scent of your blood fills his nose, and saliva puddles on his tongue. He is a Black Templar. His purpose is to slay the enemies of the Emperor; to crush them beneath his boots, to lay waste to their cities and hear the lamentations of their children, before they too are cast onto the pyre to ensure the rot does at the root. He is stronger than you. He is better than you, and your mewling is not effecting him, it cannot be effecting him —

”Keep going,” he says, his voice a low, hungry growl. “Finish the tale.”

” —yes. Of course. Saint Celestine thus spoke to the Emperor: “Fill my humble body up with Your Grace and Your Judgement, and let me then be a vessel for Your Will, bringing Your light to the dark and Your hope to the hopeless. Amen.” 

“Amen,” he echoes. 

—

He helps you clean up, for he would be a poor teacher indeed if he left you in a puddle of your own blood to contemplate your lesson. He waves away your protests that you can take care of yourself — it is a small matter for him, just requiring a little water and a clean rag. Your flesh is already swelling, puffy and tender, and when he runs his palm from your calf to your back he can feel the difference in temperature: from cool thighs to fever-warm buttocks. 

The apothecary insists that Astartes be thorough in their care of themselves. Thus, Isaiah takes care to repeat the gesture a few times, his large hands — each of which easily encircle your thighs — skimming with utmost consideration over your bruised flesh. 

“There,” he says, when he has attended to your wounds to his satisfaction. He tugs your skirt down to cover your modesty, pleased that he has fufilled his duty of care to you. “Is it not wonderful to learn the Emperor’s word?”

You prop yourself up on your forearms, turning back to look at him. “Yes,” you echo. “Simply wonderful.”

Isaiah beams at you, absent-mindedly lifting his fingers to his mouth to lick them clean. He has probably been fasting too much; a Templar must remain well fed to best serve the Emperor. 

“You can have the afternoon to recover,” he says, magnanimously. “We can commence your next lesson in a ten day — or whenever your schedule allows.”

”Yes, my lord. Thank you my lord,” you say. “All hail the Emperor and His most bounteous mercy.”

”All hail,” Isaiah says, already planning how to best explain this to Brother Reuben — while also making it excruciatingly clear that Brother Reuben needn’t trouble himself with the serf’s continued holy education. No, Brother Reuben can focus his considerable energy in locating the poor thing’s missing undergarments — a role far more befitting his station. “And next time,” he adds, licking the last of the blood from the back of his hand. “Refrain from squirming and mewling like a slattern. Have some self control.”

[kozumesphone]

03 ✦ I think i’m addicted to the title ‘you and me’ ! ༄.°

𝒽wang hyunjin x f!reader

masterlist . . . ✰

𓆩♡𓆪 𝒶n : my favourite chapter by far 🤭 kind of a fluffy chapter! def the longest in the series till rn too (I hate writing long chapters, please save me 🙏); anyway. the time has finally come fr! here’s your the ultimate climax chapter <333

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌arnings + tags : mention of kissing , hand holding , talking about being a bottom/top , hands around neck , light neck biting (twice) , y/n trying to internally best-friend-zone hyunjin but it doesn’t work , oblivious idiots in love ;

𓆩♡𓆪 𝓌c : 1.05k

DAY #03 . . .

days merged into one another because all I did was go to school and prep school, nothing more and nothing less.

I internally even sobbed, realising that I hadn’t read any of my books for the past six months.

we got our test scores back an hour ago, leaving the results of a bet looming over my head. a bet I made with hyunjin. a bet, whose loser had to kiss someone.

I bet that hyunjin would score higher than I would, and he bet the opposite. loser has to kiss anyone the winner picks.

except, we weren’t serious about the consequences because he had gotten out of a pretty serious relationship just a couple of months ago, and I was… well, I hadn’t had my first kiss yet.

instead of reminding each other of the bet, hyunjin and I were holding hands under the table—which we did quite often because he said my hands were cold and he was ‘warming them up’—when, one of the days preceding halloween, the topic of being a ‘bottom’ or a ‘top’ came up in the class.

“I think you’d be a… bottom,” hyunjin whispered to me.

“duh,” I rolled my eyes.

“why? you like when the other person does all the work for you, don’tcha?”

“well, yeah,” I said, shrugging.

the conversation quickly moved on to what our type was.

“she needs to be as mentally unwell as I am,” hyunjin said. “and have the same sense of humour, too. a little shorter than me, and smart. like, book-smart as hell. oh, hopefully someone who goes to the same prep school so we could see each other a lot, you know?”

I nodded, thinking of any of the girls in our class who fit the criteria, but failed. I even tried to go out of the way and mentally scrolled through a list of girls from other prep school classes, and still turnd up with nothing.

“y/n, what about you?” he nudged my arm.

“mmm, obviously mentally unhinged, because if not, it’d be boring if they didn’t match my freak, right? also, they better be ready to hear out all the freaky fantasies i’ve collected after being a book girl for so many years. the list is unbelievably long,” I said, half-laughing. “I don’t really mind if they’re younger or older than I am, but I would never date anyone shorter than me.”

he laughed and nodded his head at me, his eyes crinkling. I was honoured to be one of the few people who saw this version of his smile—the kind that reaches his eyes.

classes ended earlier than usual—at 7:50, instead of 8:00 p.m., which is still relaxing—so we spent more time in the park near my house together, before hyunjin could leave.

“come on, i’ll walk you home. it’s getting a bit late,” he said, jumping up from his swing, and extending his hand.

I took it without a second thought, and we talked about everything that happened in our classes at school as we kept walking.

“oh my god,” I groaned, looking at the ‘out of service! sorry for the inconvenience!’ sign taped to the elevator. ugh.

“let’s go,” he said, happy to convert me to his staircase-is-better-than-elevators agenda, pulling me up the stairs immediately.

trailing behind him, I asked, suddenly curious, “what led you to conclude the fact that i’d be a bottom?”

when we reached the third floor, he waited a beat before pulling me towards the wall. he pushed me against it gently, and slowly wrapped his fingers around my throat, towering over me and staring down into my eyes. I looked away to the side in embarrassment, as my cheeks flushed.

a second later, he let go. “the fact that you liked that, i’m pretty sure, is proof enough, don’tcha think?”

I mumbled a ‘whatever’, and we kept walking up the stairs. from the corner of my eyes, I could see his mouth still moving, continuing conversation, but my mind kept straying to his lips. and his nose. and his eyes. oh my god, he was beautiful.

“remember our deal about letting me bite you?” he asked suddenly. I nodded. I always bit his finger to annoy him (as I did to my other friends, as well) and he bit back a remark of ‘you’re just begging for me to bite you too, huh?’ to which I cockily remember replying, ‘try it’.

I pulled up the sleeve of my jacket and pushed my hand towards him, assuming he’d bite my hand like I did to him, and get it over with.

instead, he pulled me by my outstretched hand towards the wall again. his hands rested around my neck and tilted my face to my side. he gently nipped at my neck, and I laughed softly.

“tickles,” I mumbled.

best friends, I reminded myself.

he let go, and we walked up another floor to reach mine.

before I could wave to him, he asked, “want another on the other side?”

I quietly took small steps towards him, and his warm fingers found their home on my cheek, tilting my face away slowly. he bit down on my other side for a lot longer than the first time.

I held in a whimper, this time.

best friends.

I was pressed in between the wall and his body. I plopped my head down onto his chest, trying to calm down my racing heart.

best friends, right?

we were both smiling a little and his hand rested against my heart.

“got that heart beating so fast, all for me?” he smirked. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes.

best friends, I had to keep reminding myself.

I mumbled a ‘good night, hyune,’ to him and walked out of the stairwell. he let me go, knowing my parents would get mad at me if I got home even a minute later than I was supposed to.

he smiled, wishing me a good night and walking down the stairs again.

the cheeky little bastard.

I continued cursing him out in my mind, as I unlaced my shoes and stepped into my house. still scolding him internally for nothing, I tried to calm down my racing heart and shaking legs.

best friends aren’t supposed to have this kind of effect on each other… right?

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kozumesphone © 2024 | don’t repost my works onto other platforms, or edit and post them even on tumblr, without asking me first • don’t steal my works, steal my heart instead • reblogs and comments are more than appreciated !

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, I wanna know if you take requests? If you do, I would like I comfort Blade please, where he comforts reader who constantly regrets and blames themselves for everything, even the pettiest things

Blade knew something was wrong, he wasn’t stupid, especially not when it came to you and your tendencies to blame yourself for things that you had little to no control over.

You even blamed yourself for the smallest things and he hates it because someone, somewhere must’ve messed with you so badly to the point where you couldn’t go a single day without blaming yourself for something minute.

If Blade were to ever come across that person, he’d make them pay for what they did to you tenfold. But until then he would go out of his way to comfort you and reassure you that you’re not as much of a fuck up as you’ve lead yourself to believe.

Which leads us to the moment where Blade found you in your room, sat upon your bed, silently sobbing into your hands and just generally looking distraught.

He sighs and walks into your room, his heavy footsteps causing you to freeze and become hyperaware of the fact that your moment of vulnerability has been had witnessed by another person, and just as he then makes himself comfortable on the bed next to you he asks. ‘What’s wrong? Why the waterworks?’ The way the words left his mouth some would consider uncharacteristic of him, but then again what did they know about him that wasn’t something that was rehashed on the news.

You shrug, sniffling as you wiped the tears from your eyes aggressively with the sleeve of your shirt. ‘Just reminding myself of how much of a fuck up I am compared to everyone else.’ You admitted with a weak laugh as though what you just said was something to laugh at, but Blade wasn’t laughing, just looking at you with his deadpan face.

You chuckled humourlessly as you fisted your jeans to disguise your internal torment. ‘I don’t expect you to understand because unlike me, you don’t make mistakes.’ You added apathetically and Blade knew this train of thought shouldn’t be allowed to continue, for it was ruining you right before his eyes and he hated it. ‘And what makes you think that you’re a so called fuck up?’ Blade said. ‘Because to me you’re anything other then a fuck up, yes we all make mistakes, but that shouldn’t warrant you torturing yourself over it day in day out when everyone else has all but forgotten.’ He concludes.

‘I can’t do anything right. Not a single thing.’ You began. ‘I can’t socialise with other people like I’m suppose to-‘

‘I’ve seen you socialise and I think you do it just fine.’ Blade interrupts. ‘You held an hour long conversation with both a Halovian and a Foxian without stopping. So that’s obviously false.’

‘I can’t talk without them commenting on the fact that I speak as though I’m in the middle of a sentence.’ You rebutted.

Blade shrugs. ‘Everyone’s a judgemental hypocrite, it’s best to remember that all sentient beings are born with equal parts flaws as they are perfections.’ He then tips your chin up to look at him in the eyes. ‘There’s no such thing as an entirely perfect person because if there was, they’d be the most flawed out of all of us, for they lack the ability to recognise their own imperfections in the same way they recognise everyone else’s.’

‘I can’t tie my shoes perfectly without them coming undone five minutes later.’ You then said.

‘There’s a majority of people who just can’t tie their shoes no matter what, whether it be from trauma or otherwise but you don’t see them shaming themselves for it.’ Blade responded, trying to make you see that for every mistake you made wasn’t something you should take as personally as you have, however it feels as though the more he tries to make you see reason it only heightens your need to prove to him that you were indeed a fuck up.

So just be for you were about to say something else that you were an apparent fuck up about, Blade pulled you against him and held you there as he soothingly rubs his hand up and down your back, rendering you speechless. ‘I don’t know why you’re so hellbent on trying to prove that you’re a fuck up.’ Blade began as he felt you begin to relax under his touch. ‘You’re not and I will keep telling you this for as long as you need me to because you don’t deserve to beat yourself up over everything like you’re meant to be perfect at it. I don’t know who told you that you had to be perfect at everything first try, but it’s a load of fucking bullshit and I need you to realise that.’

‘But-‘ you tried to pull yourself away from his grasp, thinking that you weren’t deserving of being comforted, especially when that comfort came from Balde of all people. For you honestly didn’t believe that he would put up with you and your mistakes at all, it wasn’t fair on him; However Blade thinks it was unfair on you to think that even putting on a mismatched pair of socks was entirely your fault and should constantly be reminded of it for the rest of the week.

‘No.’ Blade stopped you before you could start. ‘You’re not meant to get everything right. Practice makes perfect is a saying for a reason because it doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make, you always get better with each attempt.’ He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes for what he says next. ‘You make mistakes, you fail, you fall but do you know what I want you to do when you feel the desire to blame yourself and avoid trying again?’

‘What?’ You asked meekly as you gripped onto him tightly.

‘Get back up.’ He said, pressing his forehead against yours. ‘Get back up and try again, try as many times as you need until you’ve mastered it. It doesn’t have to be perfect, nobody’s asking that of you, it just has to be what you’re happiest with. Don’t reduce your self worth to what others think of you and don’t let the voices in here,’ Blade then gently taps a finger to your temple, ‘dictate your self worth either. Okay?’

‘I’ll try.’ You whispered, smiling softly at him as you allowed for Blade’s words of wisdom sink in rather than fight them off.

Blade smiles back as he presses a kiss to your forehead. ‘That’s all I can ask for.’ He says against your skin, happy that you were ready to take a chance on yourself.

[rollinouttahere-writes]

helloo!! Can we please have dark chocolate number 13 with Ace pls \(//∇//)\ thank you!!♡♥︎♡♥︎╰(*´︶`*)╯🍫♡

Yandere Ace x GN!Reader

1.1k words

Prompt:

I’m so happy to have you here with me, I will never want anyone else. You have more of a hold on me than you’ll ever know.

It’s been a few hours since you’ve last seen Ace. An eternity in his book, barely a breath of fresh air in yours. During your precious alone time, you elected to stay in his cabin and tidy up the place. His tendency to just throw shit and leave it wherever it falls left the room in a chaotic state, and that got on your nerves given that this is where you spend almost every waking moment of your day.

Going out amongst the other people on the Moby Dick always left a bad taste in your mouth. They would give you pitying glances at best, but never lend a hand to help. They ultimately cared more about Ace’s well being than yours, and since your presence was directly tied to his mental state, your fate was sealed.

You never asked for any of this. No one wants to get dragged off onto a pirate ship because the captain of it got too attached. You had a glimmer of hope that you may be able to escape after the Spade Pirates were forcibly disbanded by the Whitebeard Pirates, but as already stated. They weren’t much help. At first they couldn’t even get close to you without Ace trying to kill them, but eventually he grew on them. Then they were helping keep you on board, lest he spirals. 

The relationship you had with Ace could be very draining. That fun, rambunctious side of him that had originally drawn you in was only a part of him. A front that he put on. In reality he was an intensely depressed individual that had become much more comfortable showing that side of himself to you.

In normal circumstances, this would be a heartwarming show of trust. Typically this would be a steady step in the right direction to build a healthy relationship, but nothing about your relationship was healthy. The exposure to his depressive episodes felt suffocating more than anything. While he would be sobbing into your chest and clinging to you for dear life, you would be forced to comfort your captor out of pure guilt from seeing him look so broken. You felt more like an emotional support animal than a human significant other some days.

Going back and forth between hating and pitying him was dizzying. Not to mention the bizarre form of codependent love that had been thrown into the mix. You never knew what direction your emotions towards him would go any given day, just like you never knew what kind of a mood Ace would be in.

It was exhausting. You felt like you needed a vacation to recuperate at the end of every day, but you of course never got one. So you would have to settle for the moment of peace you’ve been granted in this messy cabin.

The door is suddenly kicked open and you internally curse. Your quiet moment is done and over with now. You should have cherished it more.

Strong arms lock around your waist, heave you up, and spin you around. Ace seems to be in a good mood today, which is a plus. “(Y/N), I missed you!”

“It’s only been a couple of hours, you’re acting like it’s been months,” you muttered, more to yourself than him.

“What? A couple of hours is a long time, it felt like months.” He had mercifully stopped spinning and was looking around the room. “Where’d all my stuff go?”

You rolled your eyes, “All I did was stuff your dirty clothes into the hamper. Don’t know why you even have that thing seeing as you never use it.” It had a fine layer of dust that would gather over it in between your sporadic uses when you got fed up enough to clean.

“Not everything was dirty, most of those were still good!”

“It’s not “good” if you have to do like three sniff tests to determine that! Just wash that shit!” You were squirming to get out of his grasp, thoroughly irritated from bickering about you cleaning up his laundry.

Ace laughed and shrugged, “Maybe I’ll do it later.” Yeah right. He walked towards your shared, unmade bed and tossed you onto it before throwing himself on top of you. Oh. He’s feeling cuddly today. Great. Well, as long as he doesn’t start crying it won’t be so bad.

A kiss was placed against your cheek with enough force to squish your face, and then he unceremoniously flopped down, further squishing you into the mattress. Instead of using your chest as a pillow like he usually does, he nestled his face into your neck. His arms snaked underneath you to keep your bodies fully pressed together.

The man was a walking furnace, so you were already beginning to sweat. Such a thing didn’t bother him, but it was uncomfortable for you. Not that your discomfort was enough to deter him, you would be stuck in this position until he’d gotten his fill. This was far from the first time you’ve been subjected to this, so you knew what he wanted. One of your hands plucked his already partially dislodged hat from his head and tossed it aside so you could run your fingers through his messy hair, the other one rubbed slow circles on his back.

Ace hummed in contentment from your ministrations, and his body sagged more than it already had against your own. His hair was tangled, a common occurrence for anyone primarily living at sea. Your fingers worked meticulously to undo all of the knots. You weren’t particularly gentle with it, but he wasn’t flinching from every tug so you can’t imagine it was that harsh either.

For a while, nothing is said. Ace enjoys your company, while you feel obligated to acquiesce his wants and desires.

“I’m so happy to have you here with me, I will never want anyone else. You have more of a hold on me than you’ll ever know.” The words are spoken in a hushed whisper directly into your ear.

There it is again. That pesky, traitorous feeling of affection. The flutter of your heart from being so desperately wanted- needed even. Your impulsive inclination to comfort someone so clearly in need even though it’s absolutely not your job to do so. You wanted to “save” him almost as badly as you wanted to save yourself.

It made you question if he was the only one with serious psychological issues here. Have you always had this savior complex, or was it a recent development brought on by your living situation? 

This wasn’t something you wanted to think about today. You sighed and clutched Ace closer. Maybe it would be for the best if you just turned your brain off for a little while? Thinking too hard on your circumstances has never done you any good.

[thehighpriestess1]

Hey priestess..

I totally loved your stories and ur way of writing..

This request is related to sdf ..

Now i loved the way you wrote ur story but a inner sadistic devil inside wanted to see more groveling from satoro..

So perhaps you could write a oneshot where satoro grovels and suffers a little more before reader takes him back ..

Again , ur way of writing was perfect, but I want to satisfy my inner devil..

You can ignore it if it makes you uncomfortable...

❤️

Hi Anon! Thanks for the request. I love a grovelling Gojo as well so I wrote this in a different scenario. I hope you like it :)

Genre : Angst with fluff

Pairing : Gojo x reader

The sound of the door closing thud echoed in the apartment. Gojo stood alone surrounded by silence. How did it come to this? How could he let it get so out of hand? 

It was a bad day from the start. One bad decision after another lead to a domino effect of fuck-ups. If only he hadn’t had that bad meeting. If only the stupid intern hadn’t spilled hot coffee on him. If only his clan heads had not called on him today to invite him for a gala night that he absolutely hated. If only Suguru hadn’t showed up in the afternoon, and if only he hadn’t accepted his invitation to drink. One drink after another, one mistake after another. Soon the 4:00 PM turned into 8:00 PM and Gojo forgot about his plans with you. 

You were waiting, dolled up in your best dress and jewelry. Waiting for Gojo to show up. For the past week the two of you had hit somewhat of a rough patch. It wasn’t due to lack of love but rather lack of time. Both of you understood that and decided that you would spend time with each other today against all odds. Gojo’s words, not yours. You picked your phone up from the table and sighed as you saw no message from him. You thought about calling him but dropped the idea thinking he must be busy with some last minute work. Your phone chimed and you immediately picked it up, it was a snapchat from Geto. You rolled your eyes and swiped to open the notification, something to distract you while you wait. But as soon as you opened the snap your mouth hung open and the time stood still. It was a selfie with Geto in the foreground and in the background was Satoru, sitting on the velvet chair with his self-proclaimed work wife, Akane, sitting on his lap and laughing with her head thrown back. Gojo too was laughing with his shades pulled back over his head. Before the snap could close you took a screenshot and looked at the photo again and threw your phone on the floor as you rushed to throw up. Your head was spinning and all rationality was flushed down the toilet. You sobbed sitting on the bathroom floor. How did it come to this? Where did you go wrong? You gave him all the love you had and yet it wasn’t enough. There was nothing more left to do. Nothing to say. No explanation was needed. 

You picked up your phone and stared at the photo. Nothing Gojo could say would ever make you forget this feeling so you sent him the photo, blocked his number, packed your bags and left.

Gojo’s phone chimed and reality dawned on him when he saw the time and your message notification. He stood up immediately letting the crustal glass fall from his hands. Akane and Geto looked at him in confusion. Before either of them could question, Gojo ran out of the club pushing people out of his way. When he was finally out he called you but it didn’t connect. He cursed loudly and looked at the surge of people walking in. There was no time to wait for his car. He ran through the crowds of people, ran across the road without waiting for the light to turn green, almost getting hit by two cars, but he didn’t stop, didn’t stop to pick up Geto’s call. Didn’t stop once. After running like a mad man for an hour he stood in front of the elevator, pressing the button frantically. He looked at his phone and let out a shaky breath when he read your message again. Under the photo  were four words that made his world crumble around him. 

Don’t look for me.

Gojo stood shaking inside the elevator, cursing himself. As soon as the elevator door opened on the 22nd floor and stormed out. He pressed the code with shaky hands and ran inside the empty apartment. The windows were open and the lights were out. It was cold and silent. 

“...Y/n..?”. Gojo called out as he wobbled inside the house. “Baby…I…I’m..I’m home..”. He sobbed. He knew it was too late. He stepped inside the dark bedroom and saw that everything was neatly kept like it was never touched. Your trinkets from the bedside table were gone. Your skincare that usually lay spread across the vanity was gone. He stepped inside the bathroom and flicked on the light, the emptiness made him question if you were ever here. The only remnant was a used makeup wipe smeared with the red lipstick and black liner. Gojo picked it up and looked at it. You had gotten ready for him, for your date. In his drunken state he could see you wiping your tears and make-up in the bathroom, packing your bags in the bedroom, dragging the heavy suitcase to the living room, taking your favorite coffee cup from the kitchen and putting it in your bag and walking out the door. Gojo stood in front of the door staring at it with the makeup wipe in his hand, eyes red with crying and drinking. You were gone. There was no note left, nor last words spoken. You were gone like you never existed.

-X-

It has been a week since you last stepped through the doors of this dingy apartment on the outskirts of tokyo. It was a stark contrast to the cozy home you shared before and definitely a place that Gojo wouldn’t approve of. But this was all you get at the last minute. You couldn’t risk staying at a hotel as you were sure Gojo would track you down with his contacts. Only a shady place with a mattress on the floor would accept someone with a fake name and no questions asked. You sat at the window overlooking the street with your leg dangling on either side and sipped on your coffee. You needed a new place to stay, you contemplated leaving tokyo all together. You had applied for a job transfer the day after the incident but haven't heard from your company yet. Long weekend followed by two other public holidays did not help your case at all. You sighed as you looked down at another incoming call from an unknown number that you were sure belonged to Satoru. He had sent multiple messages that you had read and ignored.

Unknown : Y/n please give me one chance to explain. It’s not what it looked like.

Unknown : Where are you? Have you left the city? Are you okay? Unknown : Please baby just tell me that you’re okay! I need to know that you’re okay!

Unknown : You haven’t been to work in a week, why? Where are you?

Unknown : Are you eating well? Please just tell me that you’re okay.

Unknown : I miss you. Please just let me explain myself. I need to see you once. 

Unknown : I love you so much y/n. I am so sorry for hurting you. I swear nothing happened between me and Akane. I was drunk and I don’t even remember when she came there. I had a bad day and Geto suggested we get a few drinks and I agreed. I never meant to hurt you baby. I promise. I lost track of time and I lost my senses. Please forgive me. I would never do that to you. Please trust me.

Geto : Hey y/n. I just want to ask you to meet with me once. Whatever happened that day was all my fault. I can explain everything. I can’t see Satoru suffer because of my mistake. So please give me a chance to clear the air. I understand if you don’t want to meet me but please give me a call when you can. I am really sorry for everything.

Unknown : I miss you y/n. Please come back.

Geto coughed as soon as he entered the house you once shared with Gojo. His face contorted into absolute disgust as the pungent smell of alcohol hit his nose. “Satoru!”. He called out to his best friend. He hadn’t seen Gojo in two days. The last he had seen was Gojo pushing past the crowds in the club. “Satoru!”. He called again as he made his way further into the house. He reached the bedroom and twisted the knob only to find it locked. Sounds of bottles falling on the floor made him make a beeline to the kitchen, where amongst empty bottles of liquor he found his best friend sitting on the floor with his back resting against the microwave, head hung low, in the same clothes he had worn two days ago, mumbling something.

“Satoru!”. Geto crouched down and held Gojo by his shoulders. Gojo looked up at him and smiled a defeated smile.

“Suguru! My man!”. Gojo yelled and hugged him. Geto gagged at the stench.

“Jesus Satoru! Get up now, let’s get you cleaned up”. Geto put one arm around Gojo’s waist and grabbed the countertop with the other.

Gojo stood up swaying. “I..need to call y/n, She should be home now. It’s been a ..while”.

Geto’s eyes teared up at his best friend’s condition. He felt pity and guilt at the same time. “Satoru..you need to clean up for y/n, right?”.

Gojo looked at him and frowned, “Yes. Yes, you are right. y/n hates messy rooms. I need …need to clean”.

Geto watched Gojo struggle to put the empty bottles in the bin and swore to find you to make up for his mistakes.

You lay on the mattress and stared at the crack in the ceiling. You were numb. Your mind was blank and you had no feelings left in you anymore. Maybe this is the last stage of grief. You cried out all the tears and screamed all the curses. You came up with every justification and You had thrown every furniture in the room. Now you were resolved to nothing. You had nothing to say to anyone. You just wanted to be.

Morning merged into noon and noon merged into night. Maybe you blinked and maybe you didn’t. Maybe you were breathing and maybe you weren’t. Your phone rang by your head but you ignored it. It rang again and you ignored it again. It began to rain outside and the cold air flowing through the open window was your only motivation to get up and use your body. The phone rang as soon as you stood up making you groan in frustration. You looked at the message and froze. 

Unknown : I am outside your window.

You blinked and read the message again. Maybe you were dreaming. You stood staring at the message. 

Unknown : Y/n, baby please I need to see you. 

You walked slowly to the window and looked down. He was here. He was really here. You looked at Gojo standing in the rain and looking up. You stepped back immediately and stared at the phone in your hand. 

Unknown : I’ll wait here for you. Whenever you’re ready I’ll be right here. 

You shook your head and locked your phone and closed the window shut. There was no way he would wait for you.

Somewhere around 2:00 AM your bladder woke you up. In a half asleep state you made your way to the bathroom and only when you were done you realized that Gojo was outside. Your eyes widened and you ran to the window, hoping that he had given up. But to your surprise he was still there. Sitting on the bench with his head in his hand. Drenched. 

The gravel crunched under your feet as you walked out of the building holding an umbrella over your head. You had contemplated confronting him but eventually gave up when it started raining again. You crossed the road and stood in front of him, staring down at him. Did he fall asleep like this? You hadn’t spoken to anyone in days and were unsure of what your own voice sounded like. 

You cleared your throat but got no response. Something fell from his pocket and you bent down to pick it up, it was a dried up makeup wipe and you were sure it belonged to you. It didn’t faze you and you kept it next to him on the bench.

 “Sa..Satoru”. You nudged his shoulder.

Gojo woke up with a shudder and looked up. His eyes widened and he immediately stood up wrapping his arms around you. Even though he was shivering, warmth spread over his body as he held you in his arms. But soon the warmth was washed away when you took a step back and refused to look at him.

“Y/n..”. He kneeled in front of you and took your hand in his. “Please..please forgive me. I am sorry. I am so so so-”.

You pulled your hand back and slid it in your pocket.”Leave”. 

One word. Not what Gojo was expecting. “No, please y/n. I..Please forgive me. I am begging you”.

You stared at the crack on the footpath. “I forgive you. Now leave”.

The sadness in your eyes shattered Gojo’s heart. He wept and begged to be forgiven. To be taken back. 

“You wanted to be forgiven and I forgive you! Now, leave”. You repeated, staring at the crack as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

“No. I won’t leave until you take me back. I need you y/n”. 

You let out a shaky breath and kept the umbrella next to him and walked away without looking back. Gojo stayed there, kneeling on the footpath, watching you walk inside the building. 

Gojo Satoru was nothing if not stubborn. He stayed there on the half-broken bench. Everyday when you opened the windows in the morning he was there. When you took the trash out in the evening he was there. When you closed the windows at night, he was there. You had never seen him eat or drink. Sometimes you would walk up to the window and cry as you watched him curled up on the bench, sleeping with his jacket under his head. Everytime you left your apartment building he would stand up and watch you pleadingly. When you returned he would still be there. Sometimes he would walk back and forth but eventually sit back down and look up at your window. He offered to carry your groceries but one icy glare from you had him pulling back. On the third day, you had enough. 

It was a sunny afternoon and the heat was driving you crazy. You stormed out of the building and Gojo stood up as soon as he saw you walk through the door. He was gently swaying side to side and he felt dizzy.

“Follow me”. You said and began walking back.

It took Gojo three seconds to process what you had said and when he did he quickly grabbed his jacket and umbrella and followed you in. He frowned when he saw the room where you were staying. It was clean, because you lived there but it was not the place where you belonged. 

“Sit”. You gestured towards the only chair next to a small round table. Gojo sat down silently and watched you crouch down in front of the mini fridge and take out a water bottle. You kept it in front of him and he gulped down the entire bottle in seconds.

When he was done he wiped his mouth with the back of his hands and thanked you.

“Why are you doing this? Why are you here? I forgave you right?! Then why are you doing this?”. You asked as you paced around the room.

“I..I want to explain myself”. Gojo said, looking at you.

You stopped and turned towards him, “There is nothing to explain Satoru!”. You yelled.

“There is. Just..please listen to me. Once”. Gojo begged. Your silence gave him the motivation to continue. This was probably his last chance to defend himself. “Y/n..that day, I had a lot going on. Everything was going wrong at work. My family was getting on my nerves and it was one fuck up after another. When Geto offered to go to a bar, I agreed because I wanted to clear my head before I met you. I knew I had to meet you. I remembered that. I even told Geto that I had plans of seeing you. But I just..I lost track of time and I don’t even know when Akane came there and how it all happened. But I promise..I promise you that it was just that picture where she got too close to me. Nothing happened between me and Akane. I ..I even fired her after that.I even went to the club and got the recording of that night, you can see for yourself that nothing happened between us. When I saw your message I left immediately and came home but you were gone”. Gojo stood up and walked over to you. He held your hand and gave it a light squeeze. “But I swear I never …never did anything …wrong. I fucked up, I agree but not in the way that you think. I am an idiot but I swear in my life that you are the only woman I love”.

“I..I don’t know what to believe anymore”.

Gojo nodded his head and took out his phone. He played the video for you. “I..I understand. Please just see for yourself y/n”.

You took the phone from his hand and watched the video. You could tell by his body language that he was really tired that day. You could tell when the alcohol began to take its toll on him. You could tell when he lost his senses and plopped down on the couch with Geto fumbling with his phone. Geto pulled out his phone to take a photo and right at that moment Akane came into picture, she seemed visibly drunk as well, and sat on Gojo’s lap wrapping her one arm around him. It all happened at once. Geto clicking the photo and Akane sitting on Gojo’s lap. You saw the way Gojo ran out of the club  pushing everyone, including Akane away. A part of you felt guilty but another part of you remembered the hurt you felt that day.

You pulled back with a shaking head. “You really hurt me, Satoru. Even if …even if we get back together it wouldn’t be the same. I..I can’t trust you anymore”.

“Then please give me a chance to earn your trust. I know it will be hard but I am ready to do whatever it takes. I’ll do whatever you want, I’ll follow you wherever you go. I don’t want to live without you. I can’t.”.

“Satoru…I have heard you and I forgive you. But I can’t be with you”. 

“No no please don’t say that. Please y/n. I’m begging you to take me back. I will fix everything I promise! I will take time off from work and I will do everything it takes to fix this but please please take me back. I…I fucked up y/n and you can punish me however you want but please don’t leave me”.

You looked down at his hands and saw the bruises on his knuckles. You looked up at him and noticed the eye bags and the sunken cheeks. He looked weak and frail and you pitied him. 

“I don’t want to hurt you, Satoru. If I stay with you then I..I might end up hurting you and I don’t want that”. 

“It’s okay. You can hurt me. I don’t mind”.Gojo shook his head frantically. “But please don’t leave me”.

“You don’t know what you are talking about Satoru”.

“I do. I do y/n. I..I deserve to get hurt. As long as you’re with me I am okay getting hurt. Please baby. Come home with me”.

“I …need space Satoru”.

“Take all the space you need. I will sleep on the couch. I will give you all the space you need. I..you won’t even know I am there. But please just come home. I..”. Gojo looked around, “I can’t let you stay here”.

You let out a defeated sigh. “What if we don’t work out?”

“We will. I promise you we will”.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep”. You cut him off. Your words pierced his heart but he was okay with it. You could stab him with a knife and he would be okay with it. 

“Y/n, I will try my best to keep my promise this time. I don’t ever want to live a day without you. It’s…it’s too cold without you”. 

You sat down on the mattress and Gojo crouched down in front of you. His usually soft hair was now hardened and disheveled. His usually spotless shirt was now light brown and crumpled. He hadn’t showered or eaten anything in god knows how many days. 

“What if it’s not the same anymore?”. You asked sadly.

“As long as it’s you with me, I’m happy and I’ll keep you happy”.

You remained silent.

“The car is waiting for us. Just say the word and we can start again”

You looked up at him with knitted brows, “if the car is waiting then why were you sleeping on the bench?��.

“I didn’t want to miss seeing you even once”.

-X-

Stepping inside the house you once shared with Gojo made you feel warm. But it wasn’t a home yet. It was just a house the two of you shared, for now.  As promised Gojo gave you the space you needed but at the same time he was close to you. Despite having multiple bedrooms Gojo insisted on sleeping on the couch as it was closest to the master bedroom.  He would wake up at the slightest noise and check on you. He would make sure that you had everything you need before going to bed.

Every morning he would wake up early and make breakfast for you. He insisted on doing the dishes and cleaning. He pushed the cart when you went grocery shopping and didn’t question or annoy you for another tub of ice cream once, but you got two tubs anyway. He brought you fresh flowers everyday and went to bed after you and would always wake up before you. He changed the sheets and restocked your favourite candles.

It wasn’t the same as before. It was different but in a good way. He cherished you more. Showed up on time. Always put your needs before his’. The momentary loss made him realize that you were his sun, the center of his universe.

One day when you asked Gojo if he would like to sleep inside, with you. He agreed happily. It took over an hour of awkward silence and twisting and turning before both of you eventually fell back in your old cuddling pattern. When you did, everything just seemed like a bad dream.

[muddyorbsblr]

feels like mine pt2

See my full list of works here!

Summary: On the worst day of his life, Tom receives an offer impossible to refuse: getting you back. Well, almost…

Pairing: Tom Hiddleston x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: major character death; possibly a wonky timeline (the math wasn't and still isn't mathing in my pea brain); probably a wonky depiction of soulmates [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: sad meow meow hours

Three days ago…

After a good dozen takes on the same sequence from a variety of angles, Tom finally had a moment to himself, giving his assistant a signal to retrieve his phone so that he could give you a call. You'd been apart for nearly a month at this point and he missed you terribly.

The only remote relief he'd get was hearing your voice as often as he possibly could. You'd tell him all about the plot of the book you were reviewing, or what details you could divulge on the shows you were working on. Considering that you often had ironclad NDAs for them these days, you'd usually tell him of the former as it was less of a minefield.

Once his assistant handed over his phone, however, his heart caught in his throat at the screen that greeted him. Over a dozen missed calls from an unknown number in the last few hours, preceded by a text message from you.

Tom, sweetie, I'm in the hospital. It's no big deal, just a little road accident, don't worry about me. I might not be able to answer your calls for a while, since they're taking me in for surgery in a few minutes. I love you. Always.

With trembling hands, Tom returned the call from the unknown number, his heart so heavy in his chest it was a struggle to even breathe right. The next words felt as if they passed through him in a blur; he could only pick up on bits and pieces from the other end.

Drunk driver. T-bone. Internal bleeding.

And the worst words of all. I'm deeply sorry for your loss.

He took the soonest possible flight back to London, everything around him seemed a blur until he finally got to the home you two shared, his and your mothers waiting for him inside. That was the moment he finally broke, dropping to his knees and breaking out into sobs, the horrible reality cruelly sinking in once he saw their completely distraught faces.

They took your body to be cremated that day, allowing him a few minutes to say goodbye before they began the process. Your mother advised him against looking into the body bag, insisting that he wouldn't want that as his last memory of you, that he should at least get to live on with his final memory of your face being that of the loving, beaming wife he knew and loved.

The next time that you came out, it was in an urn, weighing just about the same as a baby, and he cradled you as such. For the entire car ride back to your home until he settled you in his study.

"We didn't have enough time," he said through his tears, stroking the golden urn as if he was stroking your hair. "We should have had more time."

At that moment, a voice pierced the solemn silence of your home. "I'm sorry for your loss, Thomas."

When Tom turned to see who the unwelcome visitor was, he couldn't find any words to say except one. "Impossible."

"Quite possible, really," Loki shot back, stepping into the study with palms open in a sign to tell your husband that the god meant no harm. "Anything's possible in this multiverse, I'm slowly coming to find. And in that realm of possibility, I have something to offer you."

"All due respect, I want nothing that you can give," Tom declared sullenly. "You can't give me my wife back."

"And what if I said that I can? Well, in a way."

That suddenly got Tom's full attention, placing an arm in front of your urn as if he was still trying to protect you. As if that could really do anything against a god. "I'm listening," he said cautiously.

"I've recently learnt that in every universe, there is an iteration or an echo of me, and a corresponding iteration of Y/N. In this universe, Thomas, you are my echo. In every universe, Y/N's echo is destined to fall in love with mine, and in almost every universe, that love is reciprocated," the god began to explain, creating an illusion with a wave of his hand of your wedding day.

It was nearly enough to mesmerize Tom completely, almost losing himself in the memory. In happier times. "Hang on, what do you mean almost every universe?"

"Ah, yes. That part. Well, you see, Thomas…in the universes where my echo takes on your form, world-famous actor, hordes of adoring men and women and everyone in between at his feet, getting an entire crowd to fall silent with a finger to his lips--"

"I get it, I get it, can we keep it moving, please?"

"Right then. In the universes where my echo is…Tom Hiddleston, while it is a guarantee that Y/N will love Tom, it is not a guarantee that Tom will love Y/N. There are universes where Tom barely even knows of her existence. She's in the hordes, a part of her soul knowing that she's doing exactly what she was designed to do, but confused as to why she feels as if a part of her is missing somehow."

"That's--" Tom's words choked off in a sob at the back of his throat, a new type of sadness overcoming him as he imagined a world where he never even knew you. Never loved you. "That's miserable."

"It is," the god agreed. "My offer to you is that I can reach into one of these universes where her love for you is unreturned, and I can bring her to you. Fulfill what her heart yearns for, and in return, you have an echo of your wife. Have the time that was stolen from you so harshly. So unfairly."

Tom considered the offer carefully, only moments passing before he had his first question. "What of her universe? Her family?"

"In these worlds she doesn't have much of one. For the most part she's alone, and has learnt to fend for herself in lieu of a support system." Both their hearts broke for those iterations of you, the thought of you taking on the world without anyone by your side was nearly enough to bring both men to their knees. "If you were to accept, then it would be a simple enough spell with barely any ripple effect to nullify her existence and memories of her from the minds of those still around to remember her."

Every part of him wanted to jump at the offer. To accept it without thinking. Getting another chance to spend a life with you? There should have been no hesitation at all. Except…

"If she's anything like my Y/N, she'll be smart enough to ask questions. Why her life's different from what she knew before. Whose remains are in the urn in my study. What do I tell her then?"

"That is entirely up to you." Loki's answer was not in the least bit comforting. "You can conjure up a story that she will be inclined to believe, or you can tell her the truth. Alternatively, I can offer you an easier way out of this as well. Surrender your late wife's remains to me and I can keep her somewhere safe. That way you can live on with creating your new life with this echo of your Y/N without being as tethered to your past; after all, if you wish to start this life with her, then she deserves to have you love her to the fullest extent you can afford. She deserves not to be loved half-heartedly by someone still clinging to the ghosts of his past."

Much as he agreed completely with the sentiment, Tom found himself hesitating at the thought of simply surrendering your ashes to the god. He knew what the trade would mean, and that he in turn would have more time with a version of you; however, a part of him still protested.

For would this not be a dishonor to your memory? To simply let go of you and the time he'd gotten to know you and fall in love with you in exchange for something that might not even live up to his memory of you?

And on the other hand, he thought about the version of you that was doomed to live your life with an unrequited love. The knowledge that your souls were only partly intertwined in that world had him hurt for that iteration of you. You did deserve to be loved with the same magnitude that you gave love. And if he could give that to you, then the only way that he could do so was to accept that this wouldn't be a life wherein he picked up where you and he left off. He would be building something new entirely.

It was a near impossible choice. But ultimately he knew which way he would go.

Loki's offer meant more time with you. It meant having you again. Even if it was an echo of you. At its core, it was still you.

Right?

"What would you do?" he asked the god.

"If I lost my Y/N? I'd turn the multiverse inside out to have her again. Rearrange the Realms itself until she was by my side." He paced the room as he continued his answer. "Any version of her." A smirk tugged at the onyx-haired man's mouth before tilting up his chin, assuming an all-knowing stance. "But seeing as you are an echo of me, you already knew that this was the answer, didn't you? You simply needed to hear it outside of your own thoughts. Solidify your decision."

Tom could only nod, the depth of the situation still tremendously lost on him. All he knew was that if he did this, he would have you back.

He placed your urn on the desk, pushing it towards Loki. "What do I do now?"

The god held out his hand. "Firstly, your wife's ring. I'll need it when I find an echo of her that leads her life all alone. It will be her first tie to this universe. Your universe." Tom placed your wedding ring into his hand. "Secondly, you grieve. You've suffered a great loss, and what I am to do is not a replacement of your late wife, and should not be treated as such. Mourn your loss for the next day. Then after tomorrow night, go about your morning routinely, as if she were alive."

Tom nodded again. "How will I know that it worked?"

Loki only shrugged at the actor. "Have faith. Faith that you'll see your wife again the morning after next."

With that, the god disappeared, taking both your remains and your wedding ring with him. And Tom heeded the advice, crawling into the bed you shared with him, all the memories of the life you built together and the possibilities of the life you were yet to build overwhelming him. The weight of your lost future all but crushing his heart into a million pieces.

And he wept himself to sleep.

Today…

On the second morning after Loki's offer, Tom rose from your shared bed and listened to the god's instructions from days before. He laced his shoes up, went on his usual morning run, changed into business casual attire as if he was scheduled for a Zoom call in a short while, and proceeded to start preparing a breakfast for two.

Once he had coffee brewing, he started preparing a lavish breakfast for you two to share, starting with a fruit platter. "Have faith," he whispered to himself, making the last second decision to make it a touch more decadent with a small bowl of Nutella to dip the fruit into.

If this truly was going to work, he would spoil you at every turn moving forward. Never another minute squandered, nor another craving denied.

"Have faith," he whispered again, putting on an apron to prevent any spills from ruining his white dress shirt and proceeding to slice up the fruit.

Then he heard the bedroom door open. And for the first time in days he felt the tiniest glimmer of hope.

He waited until you made your way down the stairs, fighting every urge to meet you halfway and take you into his arms. He knew you needed to acclimate into this life you'd been suddenly thrust into; Loki had done his part, now it was his turn to ease you into your new reality.

Your footsteps got closer and closer until finally they stopped just outside the kitchen area. That was the only time Tom allowed himself to turn around and look at you, relief flooding his system once he laid his eyes on you. In the silk navy blue nightgown, wearing your wedding ring.

He finally felt like he could breathe again.

"Good morning, sweetheart."

A/N: *peeks from the corner* I promised I'd have a sequel for 'feels like mine' up, and here it issssss 🫡 This isn't 'sworn fealty' after all 🤣 (in all seriousness though I will be working on a sequel to that I just have 0 idea when)

And technically this isn't a sequel but more of a prequel to part 1…all I can promise you is that there is a part 3 and it's spicy 😳👀 Dunno when that'll be out tho because I'll be returning to the requests pile but we'll see where the vibe takes me

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemis @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th  @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @lunarnights95 @superficialdomina @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog @peaky-marvel @lokiified

[twst-drabbles]

Silver 6

Summary: Silver woke up from another one of his spells, his pets snuggled on his stomach. You leaned over him and give him a kiss.

(Fighting the mind fog as best as I can. Oh boy is it a messy battle.)

When Silver fell asleep, he was leaning against the wall and landed to the ground with a loud thud. These episodes have been happening so frequently that Silver has essentially moved into your home, just so he doesn’t potentially hit his head on a table corner or twist his neck the wrong way.

Either way, Silver fell and you were there to hear and rush in. He didn’t break any skin and he was far away enough from any furniture that he probably didn’t damage himself too much.

You laid him on the couch and felt through his head. You only found a raising bump but it was within expectation. He fell on the carpet, so there’s that at least.

“Alright,” you brushed Silver’s hair out of his face, pulling the pillow just enough to keep his neck comfy, “that should do it.”

Within an hour, Malleus, Lilia and Sebek has all gathered and migrated on top of Silver’s stomach. They wanted to be on his head and neck, but you shooed them down. It wasn’t long before they piled on top of each other and fell asleep.

You sat on the floor, cushion under you because the floor’s too cold. You don’t really want to leave him by himself. Yes, yes you already have a lot on your plate and you have many other pets that need your attention, but Silver came to your doorstep.

You know Silver. You know that it must’ve been an internal battle for him to admit that his condition was worsening to you. And to come all this way to you, you can only imagine the weight of his worries and fears.

So, when you can, you’ll sit there by his side, just so that you and his pets will be the first thing he sees.

Thirty minutes later, Silver woke up with a gentle sigh. He winced when his head brushed against the pillow.

“Careful there,” you turned to him, tapping his arm with the back of your hand, “you fell on the floor this time.”

“On the floor? I hope I didn’t leave a dent.” Silver made to get up, but laid back down as soon as he spotted his pets all wrapped around each other, “Oh. They’re sleeping. How long was I asleep?”

“Just under two hours this time,” you reached out and brushed the side of his face, brushing a thumb over his frown, “Less than yesterday.”

Silver leaned in and grasped your hand, moving it so he could kiss your palm. “But it still happened. While I was standing too.”

“But, it’s no longer twelve hours,” it’s slow progress, but it’s something. Long have the doctors suspected something magical influencing his condition, so a change in location was what’s best. And it seems to be working. “They’re lasting less and less, Silver.”

Silver hummed and nodded against your hand. “They are, but still. I’m afraid.”

Afraid of slipping into a coma. Of one day waking up to a world that has long passed him by, with everyone around him aged and in different phases of their lives. Of being left behind.

They’re all things Silver sobbed to you at night, when he was afraid to even intentionally sleep.

“I know,” you leaned in, guiding his head upwards and kissed his lips, “but I’ll be here, okay?”

Silver sighed, his eyes shimmering with relief, “Thank you.”