#that was like the worst moment of his life he should be sobbing

[everythingspokenfor]

Part 2

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You were in the middle of packing, taking photos off the walls and putting them away in boxes, piles of clothes littered on the floor based on whether you were taking them or donating.

"Didn't realise we weren't close enough, eh?" Bakugou said, arms crossed leaning against the wall of your room.

Startled you looked at him clutching the photos close to your chest."Knock at least Katsuki, you scared the shit out of me." You grumbled as you regained composure and turned back to the task at hand. Partially to get it done, mostly to avoid Bakugou's gaze while you had this unavoidable confrontation.

You should have told him you were moving out, it was a rational thing, you were friends infact best friends, had seen each other at worst, dealt with it too. Should have had an adult conversation about it. But what would have you said "Hey! Katsuki I am moving out because I am in love with you but you have a girlfriend and the sole thought of her makes me sick" yeah not a good argument or maybe evening worst you would just end up crying sobbing pathetically while pointing out you were there for him more but that's not how it works, you suppose. He deserves happiness, and you are glad he found it. You just wanted to find yours too.

"Haruki, your assistant, let it slip that you are moving", Bakugou snarled, nostrils flaring, fists tightening, tell-tale signs that he is not mad but disheartened.

"I was going to tell you", you defended, turning to face him.

"When? huh, when were you going to tell me?", He hissed "When everything was packed, and you had to bid farewell like some sort of formality?", He continued ,moving towards you, for the first time locking eyes and seeing the red-rimmed, swollen eyes your cheeks were sunken too. "What happened, peanut?", He questioned, pulling the photos from your hand and setting the to the side. "Did I do something? I'll fix it, fucks sake talk to me, tell what was it that made you run I'll fix it", He cupped your face and made you look at him.

"I don't think you can fix this one, Suki", you murmured, voice almost catching in your throat because you'll lose him, you'll lose his friendship. For a moment you wished you weren't in love with him, that you could be normal around him, could be a part of his life, let him be a part of yours. But, you had to fall in love with him, ruin whatever ever you had.

"This new apartment is closer to my agency, plus how long do we go about living here, Suki?", you said before woefully pulling yourself away from him, choosing to pack up remaining of things.

"You should have said something, I deserve to at least know, you know? I go to work and your assistant, fucking Haruki, is looking for couches for you.", He said bitterly,"He knew, he was informed, he was fucking involved, and I wasn't, aren't we close? is that fucker closer to you, huh tell me?" He gritted out.

"If you were any less busy with your fucking girlfriend, then maybe you would have helped me," you yelled, words almost getting clogged in your throat, anger finally taking over.

Both of you stare wide eyed at each other, truth finally out, you behaviour making sense to Bakugou, you can see the wheels turning in his head.

He moved closer to you, reaching out, but you pull away like it burns because if you were being honest it does, Bakugou winces at you withdrawal. Your anger, your distance, you silence making sense you heart finally bared open in front of him.

"If you can't tell me what I want to hear then you shouldn't say anything",you croaked, knowing that you are being selfish,"I want a confession Suki and not consolation", you finalized.

Bakugou looked at you before he left the room, perhaps you already knew his decision but that didn't make your heart hurt any less.

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[solomiracle]

the flashback they show of lucifer pledging loyalty to diavolo in order to save lilith is wrong btw. lucifer wasn't sad but looked well put together. he was actually bloody and crying and shaking and screaming and begging lilith to open her eyes

[itneverendshere]

LOVED YOU AT YOUR WORST - r.c series - FIVE

pairings: ex!sweethearts; rafe x thornton!reader; rafe x sofia. chapter warnings: mention of pregnancy; abortion; lack of self-care

You’ve had to make a lot of unfortunate decisions in your life.

Choosing a place for your entire family to rest for eternity, picking the caskets, the headstones—it felt like deciding which curtains to buy for the house, except you were burying your entire close family.

After the crash, your parents were gone instantly, just like that—no goodbyes, no warning, just there one moment and gone the next.

But your sister survived. Three days. You thought maybe that was a sign, she’d live despite everything, and you wouldn’t be left alone.

Two weeks later, the doctors told you it was time, but you couldn’t accept it. You held her hand, begging her to stay, telling her every promise you could think of if she opened her eyes.

When the monitors finally went flat, you couldn’t feel anything but desperation. Rafe had to pull you out of there, his arms locked around you while you kicked and screamed, sobbing and begging your sister not to go, not to leave you here.

You fought him with everything you had left, clawing, crying, pleading for just one more second. You were screaming so loud you didn’t even recognize your voice. Everything good had been ripped away from your hands, there was nothing left of the world you’d known.

After that, you remember sitting in some stuffy funeral home office, skimming through catalogs and hardly seeing the pages through your tears. The caskets all looked the same, the types of wood made no difference to you, fabric linings, all of it felt so wrong. 

None of it was a choice you should have to make. 

It was unthinkable to be contemplating about gravestones. How could you sum up your family in limited words or dates, let alone choose a font for it?

You just picked something neutral and blank, something that didn’t require thought or emotion because, by then, you had nothing left to give. 

Now you were trapped again, caught between a rock and a hard place.

Your first thought had been telling Topper, your only real family left, but he was as much Rafe’s as he was yours, and when it came down to it, he was still his best friend. Loyal to him since they were five, and jesus knows how he’d react if he found out about this. He’d most likely freak the fuck out and tell Rafe everything, thinking he was doing the right thing, or worse, letting it slip to Ruthie.

Ruthie—no chance you’d involve her. She’d just see this as another fucked up piece of gossip she could hold over your head, another way to judge or control you. She was “friend” only in the loosest sense of the word.

Kelce was the last person you’d consider turning to for something this serious. He has always been there, but you never got close. He was too much of an instigator, always pushing Rafe to do reckless things he’d regret later, peer pressuring him in ways that made you wonder if he even knew what loyalty meant. He had this weird loyalty to Ruthie, defending her comments as if she was some misunderstood angel when really, she was just… mean.

So that left Sarah. 

It felt weird, thinking of her as the person you’d call on for something so serious, she was the only one who felt… safe. She wouldn’t judge, wouldn’t pry, she’d seen what the worst kind of family conflict could do, and she’d keep this private, just for you.

It’s then you recognized how small your world was. How few people were truly yours.

You were pretty sure no one in this town would fully understand, they’d just offer their "advice," as if they knew you, seen what you’d been through. 

The truth was, they didn’t know shit. They hadn't seen you holding your sister’s hand, begging her to stay alive. They didn’t know what it was like to bury everything that made you feel like a person, like you belonged somewhere, and have to get up the next day like nothing happened.

Nine days, you would be halfway across the country, and you needed someone. You pictured saying it out loud: “I’m pregnant", just those two words, to someone’s face, you had no idea what to say next.

Maybe you’d tell them that it wasn’t about wanting it gone out of spite or shame, but because you couldn’t bring a child into a world where you felt this alone.

Earlier that morning, you’d stared down at your phone, thumb itching to click on Sarah’s name, like just pressing "call" could fix everything. You despised how needy it made you feel—reaching out, when you’d prided yourself on surviving alone. 

You didn’t have much time to ponder about it, because you were stuck at the beach cleanup.

Just like every other summer, another "social responsibility" event that your late father’s foundation insisted you smile through. Even back then, when they were alive, your summers were a carousel of charity galas, fundraisers, endless hours of small talk, and impeccably arranged seating charts.

The board members of the foundation probably thought it would “ground” you—remind you of your privilege, of your “responsibility” to give back. As if a couple of hours and a few bags of garbage would somehow balance the scales. They never seemed to understand how much of it was all for show, this shallow idea that if you looked the part, no one would care to learn more.

But, still, you’d show up. You always did. Smile, make just enough small talk to appease the right people. 

Today, it was just you, a few kids and teens dotted along the beach with oversized trash bags. It wasn’t even noon, but the sun felt like it was scorching you alive. It was laughable, really, standing under this blistering sun with a cheap trash bag and an endless stretch of sand to clean. 

Kie, who was so genuinely invested in this whole “save the planet” thing it was almost enviable was there too with JJ, who was running around her as usual, wearing his ‘I’m just here for the ride’ expression but enjoying himself. The love between them made you miss having someone who cared in ways that weren’t just calculated moves.

She waved at you from the shoreline, her eyes moving to the trash bag you were barely half-filling.

You weren’t friends, but if Sarah liked her, you did too.

You offered a faint smile back, tired, because between all the shit you’d been thinking about, you'd forgotten to eat, to drink anything, and every time you leaned down to grab another crumpled plastic bottle or a bit of seaweed-laden garbage, you felt like your legs were about to give out on you. 

Every now and then, she would throw a quick, appraising glance your way, like she was expecting you to miraculously become invested in the beach’s ecosystem.

You didn’t have it in you to pretend this was enjoyable today. The “effortless” philanthropy your family loved was a lifestyle you’d never bought into. It didn’t matter how many smiling photos of you had ended up on some charity’s social media—you knew you’d rather be anywhere else.

You had to take a break every few minutes, leaning against a pier post, trying to get yourself together as a few of the younger kids gave you wary glances. You could have left—probably should have.

You managed a tight-lipped smile, giving a thumbs-up that said, Just doing great over here, guys!

You were in a long t-shirt, which hung over your bikini and shorts, the fabric slightly oversized, to help hide what was still a small change in your body. Paranoia was your new best friend, always worrying that someone would notice something different, even if you didn’t have a noticeable bump yet.

Bending down to grab another plastic bottle, you felt a stab of nausea hit you hard, rolling up from your stomach, thick and sour, but you ignored it. Not here. Not now.

You straightened up too fast, and your vision blurred slightly, that familiar sense of vertigo hitting you. You took a shallow breath, ignoring the burn at the back of your throat, your hands shaking slightly as you adjusted the bag slung over your shoulder.

One girl looked up at you with these wide eyes kids like to pull, “Are you okay?” 

You smiled, brushing it off as if you weren’t about two seconds away from collapsing. “Of course. Just... need a second.” 

The kids were watching you again, with that look of curiosity. You couldn’t look them in the eye. It wasn’t their fault. They just didn’t understand that sometimes the grown-ups didn’t know what they were doing either. 

Just a few more bags of trash and you’d be able to get back to your car, maybe grab some water from the cooler in the trunk, sit down, and think about it.

This used to be easy, you got a weird kind of enjoyment from these cleanups, running around with your sister, making it a competition to see who could pick up the most trash, laughing until your stomachs hurt over stupid jokes about jellyfish and sunscreen. Back then, this was just one of a thousand little family traditions, one of those things that felt effortless.

Now, sweat dripped down the back of your neck, making your skin prickle uncomfortably.

You’d long given up wiping it away, knowing that it would only come back thicker and hotter the next second. Every instinct told you to run off to the parking lot, and sit in the car with the AC blasting until your body remembered it didn’t hate you.

Leaning down for one last bottle wedged in the sand, your legs wobbled and gave way beneath you. Just like that, your vision was spotty, as if someone had turned down the brightness on the entire beach, and you pitched forward.

Just as you felt yourself going down, a hand caught your arm, pulling you back up.

"Whoa, whoa, you okay?" A teenage boy, maybe sixteen, gripped your arm firmly, keeping you upright.

How much longer could they realistically expect you to go on, plastering on that sweet, dutiful smile? How much “grounding” could one person take?

You blinked, trying to clear the haze in your eyes, "I’m fine. Just a little lightheaded, really, it’s fine,” you insisted, but then a shadow loomed beside you. 

Your vision was so foggy that it took seconds for you to register it.

You looked up slowly, feeling a familiar drop in your stomach as you realized who it was.

The last time you’d been this close to him, the two of you had been screaming insults across the room, Lily having to physically step in. She’d forced him to leave before you two killed each other. It was a miracle you hadn’t punched him then and there.

 “You should sit down.”

It felt like a sidekick to your chest.

The sound of his voice was grinding on your nerves, and just like that you were stuck back in your dream, a real memory, leaning against him, his hand playing with a strand of your hair as he laughed at something you’d said, the two of you carefree under a golden sunset. 

Except this was real.

Rafe was shirtless, with his board tucked under one arm, surf wax staining his fingers, and the sun glinting off his damp skin, like he was God’s gift to the Outer Banks. His buzzed hair was dark and wet, droplets trailing down his temples and catching along his jawline. His cheeks were flushed, a little red from the heat.

You looked away, somewhere over his shoulder, anywhere but at him, refusing to let him see you in this fragile state.

“Go away. I’m fine.”

But he didn’t move.

He’d been summoned from your absolute worst memories, catching you at your lowest when you least wanted his help. Typical. 

“No,” he refused firmly, with that stupid, stubborn look that made you want to throw something at his head. “I’ve seen you almost fall three times now.”

“Maybe if you stopped looking at me like a creep, you wouldn’t have to see me ‘almost fall.”

“I wasn’t—"

You grounded your teeth, “Just go back to surfing.”

Rafe let out a dry laugh, shaking his head as if you were the one acting crazy. “Yeah, 'cause you look perfectly stable right now.”

He'd always been a master of the passive-aggressive half-sneer, the art of making you feel like everyone else was imposing on his day, no matter the situation.

“Don’t act like you care.” you snapped, voice carrying over the sand, earning a few glances from nearby kids.

He ran a hand over his face, looking around as if he didn’t want to be there any more than you did, mouth pressed into a tight line. You wanted to scream that this was his fault too, that every choice he’d made led to you standing here alone, exhausted, and terrified.

“Water would help, y’know”, his tone just shy of patronizing “You can’t go around dehydrating yourself just to make a point.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Your fingers twitched with the urge to send him stumbling to the other side of the beach, you knew that any sudden movement would make you light-headed again, and the last thing you wanted was to give him more proof of your weakness.

The kid—still standing there, eyes wide and darting between you both—looked like he was watching a reality TV show when Kiara appeared at your side.

“Let’s not do this here,” she begged under her breath, handing you a bottle of water she’d brought over, a kindness you didn’t want but couldn’t reject. “Just sit down for a second, please?”

JJ followed, always with that air of easygoing nonchalance, but his eyes were serious as he glanced from you to Rafe.

“She’s right. Just take a second, yeah?” He looked over at Rafe, “Maybe you should leave,” he said pointedly.

“Maybe you should mind your fuckin’ business Maybank.”

“Look, uh,” the kid stammered, knowing he could get caught in the crossfire. “I’ll… I’ll go see if anyone needs help further down the beach…”

You waved him off, your focus still locked on Rafe as the kid all but bolted away, you didn’t want anyone to think they had to “rescue” you.

You tried to take a step back, but the little strength you had in you disappeared as you felt your knees wobble.

"Jesus," you heard him groan, and then his hands were on your arms, board on the sand, holding you as you stumbled. "I told you to sit down."

You shook his hands off, "Don’t tell me what to do.”

It was hard to believe the two of you had once burned hotter than any bonfire, two people who got under each other’s skin, in love, and in hate.

He let out an exasperated sigh while you took a sip from the water Kiara handed you, ignoring how your hands were still shaking around the bottle. 

She spoke again, trying to be the voice of reason, "We’re here to help the community, remember?"

JJ smirked, "Yeah, think the sea turtles are rooting for y’all to work out your issues somewhere else.”

You ignored his joke, keeping your eyes on Rafe, your pride and stubbornness refusing to let him win, “I’m fine.”

“Yeah?”

He looked you over, his gaze fixed to your warm cheeks and the dewy sheen across your temple, “You look real fine, don’t you?” He didn’t even try to cloak his sarcasm.

God, he could be so exasperating.

He couldn’t understand. How could he even think he could look at you now and know anything about who you were? Standing there, with that stupid board and that look, like he couldn’t imagine anything bothering him as much as this seemed to be bothering you.

As if he hadn’t already ruined you in so many ways that felt impossible to get over. 

“Don’t you have something better to do?” 

“Oh, believe me, I do,” he drawled, his eyes trailing from the waves back to you. 

You were tired of this game, of fighting him every time he showed up only to leave you feeling even emptier than before.

Your fists clenched, and you opened your mouth to hurl something back, but the dizziness hit you again. Before you could compose yourself, Rafe’s arm wrapped around your waist, strong and frustratingly secure, holding you upright with an ease that made your skin crawl.

He had seen you at your weakest, had been there at the hospital after the accident, keeping you together when you were certain you’d break. 

Yet, here you were, in a sick way, back in his arms, all broken apart.

“That’s it. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“I hate to say it, but he’s right,” JJ chimed in, hand shielding his eyes from the sun.

The world alone had all kinds of alarms going off in your brain. You fought back instinctively, your hands pushing at his chest, freeing your arm. 

“I told you, I’m fine.”

He let go, but he didn’t back away.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes, “You think I don’t know what fine looks like? I was there.”

He was there. And you didn’t want to be reminded of it, not in front of other people. 

He meant the exhaustion and hunger pains you’d welcomed after your family was gone, embraced even, because it meant you wouldn’t have to feel anything else.

You’d wanted to disappear, and he’d been there—dragging you back, forcing you to drink water and swallow bites of food, even when you pushed him away. He’d seen you at your absolute lowest, where you didn’t care if you made it through the day. 

The thought of the hospital, tests, questions, you fought it, but your vision was already blurring.

You couldn’t let him find out about the baby. 

Your breathing felt tighter, each shallow breath only making the spinning worse, you could sense your body giving in to the exhaustion

“Shit,” you heard him curse, sounding distant now like he was farther away. 

You felt yourself sway as if the ground was opening beneath you, there was a ringing in your ears that made his voice sound muffled but you still felt his arms catching you again, holding you upright before you fell.

Waking up in a moving vehicle was like emerging from a nightmare, except somehow, this was worse, because you were no longer at the beach. 

You blinked hard, desperate to wipe the fogginess in your eyes and when it did go away, you realized who was behind the wheel. 

Rafe. 

Your heart pounded—your desperation to keep the baby a secret, how you almost passed out at the beach, and the fact that now he was most likely driving you to the hospital.

“What the hell are you doing?” you practically screamed, your voice hoarse from the lack of water.

He didn’t spare you a glance, “You passed out, genius. I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Your whole body went rigid. “Are you insane?”

“Me?” He scoffed, as he kept his focus on the road. “You practically ate sand back there. You’re not fine.”

“Turn the car around. I’ll call my driver and be fine.” You huffed like he was too dumb to understand. “I don’t need your help.”

He let out a dry laugh, still not looking at you. 

“Yeah. You’re out of your mind if you think I’m letting you out of this car right now.”

“Rafe, I’m not kidding,” you warned, louder this time. “Stop. The. Car.”

He gave you a sideways glance, his grip on the wheel tightening.

“Not happening.”

Your heart hammered as you realized he wasn’t going to back down, you were driven by sheer desperation.

“Fine, then I’ll do it myself." you muttered, reaching for the door handle. 

Anything to get out of this suffocating car before he dragged you all the way to the ER and they found out you were pregnant—with his baby, no less.

His eyes widened, finally snapping from the road to your hand on the handle.

“Are you crazy? Get your hand off that, I’m fuckin' serious.”

You yanked at it anyway, twisting the handle and pulling with spiteful defiance, and Rafe’s expression went from annoyed to full-on rage. He swerved the car to the side of the road, tires skidding as he slammed the brakes and practically threw the car into park.

Before he could even stop fully, you flung the door open and stumbled out, sandals sinking into the gravel as you stalked away.

You didn’t get more than a few feet, he was already bolting after you.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you muttered, digging your nails into your palms. 

How the hell had it come to this? You were stuck here, pregnant with his child, and he played the reluctant hero like you needed him swooping in to save you.

Rafe reached you in two strides, his fingers were digging into his forehead, pointing at it with exasperation imprinted into every corner of his face. 

“Are you out of your fuckin' mind?” He sounded like he was talking to some unruly child.

And the worst part? You could see that frustration in his eyes, the same look he used to give you when he’d reached his limit with you.

You wondered if he ever got to that point with Sofia.

What would he do if she was the one almost fainting? Would he still look like she was some colossal burden, or would he soften, maybe even smile as he fussed over her, acting like he wanted to help?

You hated yourself for caring at all.

Sofia—the one who looked like she'd been ripped off from some perfect postcard, all wide-eyed sweetness and gentle smiles. She probably never challenged him, snapped back, or made him want to pull his hair out.

There was no way he’d look at her like she was a mess, someone he just had to “deal with.” He likely saw her as easy, perfect, all soft and sweet words, everything you weren’t.

This wasn’t who you wanted to be, and yet here you were, stumbling around half-dead and pregnant with his child.

“I’m sorry, am I bothering you?” You spat the words, watching his jaw clench tighter. 

He exhaled sharply, rolling his eyes. 

“Unbelievable. Only you could take me trying to help and turn it into this.”

You were done. You were done with the memories, with the torment of seeing him be something better for someone else. 

“Help?” You laughed bitterly, the anger engulfing you so hard it felt as if it choking you. “You think this is help? That I need you, of all people?”

He took a step back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I'm trying to help."

You hated how calm he was, how rational he sounded.

It was maddening when all you wanted was for him to get angry, to let that icy surface crack, to give you even a glimpse of something real, something that wasn’t just irritation or sarcasm.

You wanted proof that he still was affected by you, that this was the same guy who used to be everything, who’d promised you everything.

But you swallowed it down, straightening up, because there was no way in hell, you’d let him see even a hint of weakness.

“Trust me,” you shot back, “I’ll be just fine without you.”

He raised an eyebrow, a bitter smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, “Get in the car.”

“No,” you said, firm and unyielding, every inch of you screaming that you wouldn’t let him decide anything for you ever again.

“Fine. Have it your way.”

In one swift move, he reached out, his hands gripping your arms with enough pressure to pull you forward, lifting you clean off your feet. Your breath caught in a furious gasp as he practically dragged you back to the car, his fingers warm against your skin, like you were just a mild convenience. 

“Put me down!” 

You struggled against his hold, jabbing at his chest with what little strength you could muster, but he didn’t even flinch, didn’t so much as hesitate. 

“Rafe, I swear—”

He opened the passenger door with one hand, keeping a firm grip on you with the other, before finally setting you down—not gently—onto the seat. Without meaning to, tears began falling as you struggled against his hands. You could feel them wetting your cheeks, your voice was breaking, jumping to distress as you tried to twist out of his hold, feeling so small under his unrelenting strength.

He almost knelt in front of you, reaching for the seat belt with one hand, while his other remained firmly on your shoulder, holding you still. You felt trapped, impresioned as you tried to turn in every direction, hands weakly pushing him back, but he caught them effortlessly.

“Stop!” you meekly choked out, failing to shove him, the words coming out shameful.

You could feel your heart breaking all over again.

You hated that he was seeing you like this, how he dared to act like you needed him—it made your skin crawl. You hated that he could do this, like he had any right like you’d ever wanted him involved in this part of your life, let alone now.

This was a version of you only Rafe could bring out.

You glared up at him, practically shaking with rage as Rafe ignored your protests like you were nothing more than a child throwing a fit. 

“Get your hands off me.”

His jaw tightened, ignoring the flailing punches and slaps grazing him, and you couldn’t stop the sob that escaped, loud and ugly.

“I’m not letting you kill yourself out of spite.”

Your chest hurt like you’d been run over a hundred times—it felt suffocating. “I hate you.”

For the first time, you thought he might actually leave you here. 

His fingers stopped as if your words had made an impact, his lips pressed into a thin line. Your vision blurred as he leaned in, his touch hovering as if to wipe away the tear running down your cheek, but he didn’t, instead, he closed his hand into a fist and drew back, his face just inches from yours. 

A faint, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he clicked the seatbelt into place. He made a low humming noise, that thing he did when he was getting ready to make someone feel two inches tall. 

 "Yeah? Get in line."

Without another word, he pulled back, slamming the door shut, and walking around to the driver’s side.

You wiped at your cheeks, furious that he’d seen you like this, that he had the power to break you down. It was humiliating, sitting here in his car, every part of your body screaming to escape. 

He got in, started the engine, neither of you spoke.

Rafe drove fast, every rev of the engine matching the churning in your stomach perfectly. You sat there, trembling, the dread building with every mile that passed. You gripped the seatbelt so hard it felt like your entire body might go numb, and stared straight ahead, breathing shallow, trying to ignore the sting in your eyes.

You bit back another wave of nausea. Weakness.

You’d already shown him too much. 

You didn’t need a lecture from some doctor on how you “should’ve taken better care of yourself", let alone with Rafe there, watching, scrutinizing, acting like this was his business when he’d made it clear long ago that it wasn’t. He was in your space in the worst way, reopening all the wounds.

You were seething. He had no right to do this.

The thought made you want to drop dead—doctor would walk in, casually drop the news about the baby, and you'd be left watching his reaction in real time.

You looked at the entrance to the ER. The vision of anyone running tests, of some well-meaning nurse, coming in and spilling everything about the baby in front of him—no way. You wouldn’t let that happen.

He wasted no time getting out, moving around to your side, while you sat rigidly, staring straight ahead. His hand was already on the door, yanking it open, looking down at you like he was ready to drag you inside if he had to.

You weren’t moving. You knew the second you stepped inside, it would be over. 

“C’mon,” Rafe pressed, his hand outstretched, hovering there like he thought he could compel you to listen. “Stop being so stubborn.”

You crossed your arms over your stomach, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I’m not going in.”

Rafe let out a sigh, nearing his limit, and knelt down to your level.

“Look, you passed out. I’m not leaving until you get checked out.”

“You’re gonna be here for a while then.”

“Would you stop?” His voice softened for the first time, as if he was trying to reach some part of you that he thought still cared. “You look like you haven’t slept in days, like you haven’t eaten anything that wasn’t out of a vending machine. I know you don’t want my help, but can you just stop for a second and—”

“And what?” you interrupted.

“And think! If you don’t get in there, I’ll drag you in myself.”

Your heart raced, “You wouldn’t dare.”

Rafe stepped closer; his jaw set in determination. “Try me.”

“You’re not coming in."

He blinked like the idea hadn’t even occurred to him. “What?”

Maybe he was seeing the protection you’d built up around yourself since he left, how there was no longer any crack left open for him to slip through.

“I don’t need you. I don’t want you in there.”

“Fine.” His tone was clipped, restrained. “But I’ll be right here.”

You slammed the door shut behind you, not letting him your legs still shaking. You’d rather collapse face-first into the concrete than give him the satisfaction of listening to him. 

“Yeah, you do that,” you replied, turning and walking toward the entrance, refusing to look back.

Stepping inside, you felt a slight tremor run through you—part relief, part panic. The lights were too bright, almost white. Your heart wobbled, replaying how he’d been such a fucking asshole to you.

You’d forgotten how mean he could be, how easily he could go from angry to something so frigid it made you want to cry yourself to sleep.

“Hi there,” The receptionist greeted, her eyes moving over you with a professional once-over, “What brings you in today?”

You forced a small smile, knowing she wouldn’t buy it.

“Just…got a little dehydrated, that’s all.”

“Okay…let’s just get some basic information.�� She clicked into her computer, her fingers poised over the keyboard. “Name?”

You cleared your throat, rattling off your full name, she nodded, typing it in.

“Have you experienced any other symptoms besides dizziness?”

“Nothing serious,” you replied, dismissively. “It’s just the heat, like I said. I just need some water and I’ll be good as new.”

This had to be a fucking nightmare you got sucked in, you could sense your blood pressure spike.

She tapped her screen and glanced back at you.

“Alright, Miss Thornton, it looks like we’ll just need a few quick details here to get you all checked in. Can I start with your insurance provider?”

A chuckle almost slipped out of you. Insurance—God, you were fine with insurance. What you weren’t okay with was everything else. You answered, “Blue Cross.”

She asked for your birthdate, which you gave on autopilot, hoping she’d skip any weird or invasive questions. “Any allergies?”

You shook your head. Please, just let this be over. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” You blurted out, giving her a thin smile and forcing calm into your voice. “I just need the IV. You know, standard stuff.”

“Of course, dear. We’ll get things started, it will include routine tests, like bloodwork, just to be safe.”

Bloodwork. Perfect. You were doing everything you could to keep from falling into that spiraling panic mode. 

Please, just get me in, get me out, and don’t find anything.

“Just head down to Room 12.”

All you could think was that you wanted this to be over—before the whole town, or worse, he, found out. It made you want to scream. He was the last person who should be outside.

This was his fault. You’d never be here if he hadn’t shown up.

The next hour passed in seconds—questions, forms, an IV drip.

They’d done blood work, too, but you’d sighed in relief when they’d told you the results wouldn’t be ready immediately. As far as they knew, you’d just overdone it, and now, as you lay on a cot in a room that reeked of sick people, all they’d prescribed was rest, hydration, and food.

When the nurse asked if anyone could pick you up, the thought of calling someone, asking them to see you like this, made you delirious. You didn’t need anyone; you were perfectly fine on your own.

But you also didn’t want Rafe and his delusional ass to barge through the doors.

The nurse moved around you awkwardly, eyes still expectant, as if you were just a button away from a reliable “someone” to come running.

You looked at her, controlling the compulsion to yell. Little people ever bothered to check on you, to show up for more than just the drama or gossip.

Out of them, only one face bounced around in your head.

“Yeah, I got someone.”

TAGLIST: @maybankslover @october-baby25 @haruvalentine4321 @hopelesslydevoted2paige @rafebb @rafesbby @whytheylosttheirminds

@zyafics @astarlights @bruher @nosebeers @carrerascameron @serrendiipty @sunny1616

@yootvi @ditzyzombiesblog @psychocitylights @maibelitaaura @kiiyomei

@stoned-writer @justafangirls-blog-deactivated2

@starkeygirlposts @enjoymyloves @ijustwanttoreadlols @icaqttt

[cap-winter-barnes]

Home (Tyler Owens x Reader)

You're soaked to the bone, clothes torn, bloody and clinging to your skin. Hair plastered to your face, blooding running down your face like tears. The wind still howls around you as you help people to safety, Tyler by your side. The gash on your forehead is numbed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You've always loved storm chasing, but this time it's different, too close to home.

That moment in the motel pool, clinging to the piping for dear life, Tyler moments from slipping through your fingers - that was the most terrifying moment of your life. Yet here you are still riding your fears.

As the streets of El Reno begin to tumble and tear apart before your eyes, you push forward, trying to save as many people as you can. With no space in the small number of bunkers, basements & shelters there are, you have no choice but to guide everyone to the movie theatre.

"Y/N!" You turn at the sound of Tyler's voice above the cacophony of chaos around you. You still lose you breath every time you look at Tyler Owens and fall in love with him like it's the first time you met all over again. "Baby Girl, we need to get inside before it's too late." His hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you closer to his side.

Tyler was the one who brought your love of storm chasing to life, made your childhood dreams a reality. Your parents thought you were crazy to go off with the self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wrangler' but upon learning the reason behind his dangerous adventures and of your utter happiness and adoration of the man, they came to terms with your decision.

With a chaste kiss to your forehead, Tyler takes your hand in his and pulls you along hurriedly toward the movie theatre. Gathering the last few families through the doors with you and taking a glance back at the fast approaching tornado, you close the door behind you. Once inside the theatre, hunkered down between rows of chairs, the adrenaline begins to fade.

With the horrendous sound of the rain, wind and destruction echoing around the large space, panic begins to set in. This building wasn't made to withstand such a destructive force of nature. Tears spring to your eyes as your fear takes over. The cut on your forehead still bleeding, throbbing above your eyebrow. "Ty?" He can barely hear you above the roar of the storm above you, chunks of ceiling ripping away into the sky. "Ty?"

"I'm here Baby Girl, I'm here." You feel him wrap his body around yours as you both lay on the ground, arms tightly wrapped around them to keep you anchored. His warmth envelopes you and the smell of him immediately calms you somewhat. "I'm here, I gotcha." Sobs wrack your body as you try to take your mind away from this godawful situation. You should be celebrating your engagement but instead you're fighting for your lives. "I gotcha, darlin'. We're gonna go home after this." He kisses your temple, his body wrapping tighter around yours as the eye of the storm grows closer. "Wherever you wanna call home, that's where we'll go. We'll st-"

What's left of the movie screen disappears as the wall is torn away from the building, debris and innocent people being ripped away with it. Your fear returns tenfold, Tyler holding on with all his strength to protect you. His life, his home. "We'll start that family we talked about, hmm?" He presses his cheek against your own. "We're gonna make it through this, darlin'. I promise."

You turn to face him, noses brushing against each other. "I promise you, baby." You waste no time in pressing your lips to his own, the taste of blood, dirt and tears on your tongue as you press yourself to him.

"I love you."

"I love you, Baby Girl." You rest your forehead against his as you both prepare for the worst. The building shudders and shakes, groaning against the worsening wind speed. With eyes closed tightly, hands wound around each others, both you and Tyler hope with all your might that you survive this. But no matter what, you were home. Tyler is your home.

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

THE HISTORY BOOK ON THE SHELF. ( HOTD x READER ) [ Final Part ]

AUTHOR NOTE! Thanks for all the love. <3 pairing: King Aegon Targaryen x Little Sis! Reader prompt: Aegon would do anything, if it meant killing every ratcatcher or gold cloak in the city, he'd so. word count: 1, 000+ words

You wept and wept. Aegon feared that you would never be able to stop. Helaena was no better, locking herself up and shutting down. The two of you spiraled into madness and tears. It only made him drink and rage more. He hated to see you cry. You were supposed to be the happy one out of all of your siblings.

Aegon was the drunken mess, needing to be put in line. Helaena was the odd one, in a dream-like state. You were the perfect little angel, his perfect little angel. Aemond was the brooding one, face pulled into a stupid brooding look. Daeron was the forgotten one.

Now you were the broken one. Rhaenyra has stolen your smile. Rhaenyra had stolen his perfect little angel from him. She took the good from you, leaving him with a broken mess. A mess he wasn't sure of how to repair. So, he was going to do what he did best. He was going to get even.

If Rhaenyra wanted to take the one good thing he had in his life from him. He was going to burn everything she cared about to ash. Even if it made him a monster in the eyes of his own Court. Because you were worth burning the world down.

Blood and Cheese. Blood was one of his men, or now a former man of the City Watch. Cheese was a rat-catcher. That's how they knew how to get into the Red Keep. They were paid to kill Aegon's son. The worst part of all it had to be the fact that your son was "just in the way". They had no reason to kill him. He wasn't the one they had been paid to kill. They just killed him because he was in the way of things.

Blinking back the tears in his eyes, Aegon stares at the club in his hand, the metal rusted and jagged. Blood's words confession ringing in his ears. They killed his son for a debt, but yours because they thought of him in the way. Collateral damage. That was your son was, fucking collateral damage. Nodding his head for a moment, he thought of not killing the man, just leaving him to rot. But, another part of him truly wanted to see him bleed.

"You killed my son. You killed my sister's whole world." Aegon states, his voice cold. "My sister's loved their son's. And you just killed them."

"The Seven will never forgive you for this." Blood blubber's out, "To kill me.."

"Ah, yes, but the Seven aren't here, now are they?" Aegon mocks, adjusting his grip on the club.

Motioning around the Black Cell's, there was nothing but the rats and darkness there. No one to hear Blood's screams. No one there to help. It was just Blood and Aegon. Alone. Looking at the jagged end of the club, Aegon brushes his thumb over it, seeing it was sharp enough to cut. Though it would not be smooth or painless.

"You can fuck with me all you want. You can beat me. You can mock me." Aegon states, "Do as you please to me and I can endure it."

Blood sobs, the chains around his arms and legs clanging and jiggling loudly. Mercy was below, Aegon now. Mercy was not shown to his son or yours. Why the fuck should he show it to Blood?

"See, my friend. The thing is, you made my sister's cry." Aegon's face goes deadly cold, "I don't like bastard's that make my sister's cry."

Bringing the metal club down onto the man's head, he doesn't stop, unable to stop thinking of you. The way you wept, sobs full of heartache. The way you clung onto him, the blood on your nightgown seeping into his own clothes. The way the bastard made you cry. The way the bastard made you feel so unsafe in your own home.

The way the bastard made you doubt him. The way the bastard made you think he was a liar. Feeling a hand grab onto his forearm, he's pulled out of his daze, now realizing the man was now dead. His head caved in a bloody mess. Dropping the club, he takes a step back, licking his lips. He can taste blood on it, though it was not his own.

A son for a son. A son for a son. A son for a son. They got there son. Now a debt was now owed, on behalf of your son. The cycle repeating over and over again. Lucerys died, Jaehaerys died in payment. Your son died, now Rhaenyra would die in payment.

"Your grace?" A kingsguard asks, "What shall we do with the body?"

"Feed him to the pig's. I have no desire for time or a hole to be wasted upon him." Aegon spits at the corpse for good measure.

Hearing the door to the chambers open, you couldn’t find the strength to get up from bed, clinging onto the blanket. You could still smell your son on it. He smelt of lemon cakes and mud. He always loved to steal the frosting off the lemon cakes, just like Aegon did. He was just a boy. He was innocent. Why him? Why? Feeling tears bubbling up, you did not wish to ponder on your son’s death. It forced you to think of the sounds of a head being sawed off.

Feeling the bed dip for a moment, you look over to see Aegon there, his doublet and breeches soaked in blood. Blood’s blood. Sniffling softly, Aegon leans over to you, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. It was comforting to be touched and tended to like this, like you were still a child and not a woman grown with responsibilities and duties. Like everything was still okay.

"It is done." He whispers, nodding his head.

You don’t say anything, not being able to find the right words. Even if you could, what would you say? “Oh, that is so amazing to hear from you, dear brother.” or some other bullshit. 

"You have my word, I swear it upon my life. I will burn everything down that Rhaenyra loves." Aegon pledges, "From her favorite tailor to her favorite child. I will avenge your son, sister."

"Aegon.." You croak out, trying to find your voice. 

"I will kill her myself. I’ll fucking feed her to my dragon.” He vows, “No one will remember the name Rhaenyra Targaryen, when I am done.”

“Aegon..” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. 

"She'd be a fucking myth. She'll be a fucking ghost of the Red Keep. No, no, not even that. I won't even let her haunt the Red Keep."

He doesn’t hear you, clearly swept up in his plots and plans for revenge on your behalf. His words left not a drop of comfort.

“I will do anything that you ask of me. Just tell me what it is that you wish and I shall do it. I’ll kill whoever you wish⎯" He rambles on and on. 

"Egg." You whisper, tears bubbling up.

The childhood nickname falling out of your lips naturally. You did not wish for grand words, for grand promises, or grand actions to be done in your name or favor. That was meaningless. Mayhaps when the grief dimmed, you would wish for revenge for your son. But, for now, at this moment. You just wanted your big brother to hug you. You wanted things to be back as they once were. Here you were just Y/n and he was just Aegon, your big brother. Not the King.

Feeling the tears bubble up more and more, you sniffle, wiping the tears away with the back of your hand. You watch through teary eyes as he goes deadly still. You did not regret saying his old nickname. You just wanted to feel as safe and happy as you used to be in your childhood. You wanted to escape from the crushing reality that your son was dead and war was invincible now. Mayhaps it was childish. But, you wanted to be okay once more.

"Y/n.." He whispers, his face crumbling.

"Just hold me like you used to do." You whimper out, “Please.”

---

@lovelykhaleesiii

@fragileheartbeats

@nightvers

@zaldritzosrose

@lexi-anastasia-astra-luna 

[transrevolutions]

french revolution dashboard simulator

🐀 ami-du-peuple Follow

uh actually man has the right to deal with his oppressors by devouring their beating hearts. hope this helps.

🎩 departicle Follow

Hold up. Okay. Actually, fuck this. This sort of violent rhetoric should not be tolerated on here. Do you seriously think this sort of thing is going to make the nobility give you more rights???? You must be out of your minds! Reported.

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

reblog to devour this guy's beating heart

#username checks out lmao #politics #everybody point and laugh #common adp w

6,178 notes

organt-deactivated06151792

update: new canto out now!!! go check it out 😈😏🥀 (remember don't like don't read <3)

📜 sacredhostreceipts Follow

@centuriesandskies this you?? not such a great look for a convention rep ngl

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

listen. I wrote this a long time ago, before I went into serious politics. the account is deactivated for a reason.

I was twenty. I did poorly. I can do better.

#sj.txt #if this is the worst dirt you can dig up on me #i'm way less corrupt than half the people in the convention these days #at least i'm not doing fucking. embezzlement. #also sacredhostreceipts if you're who i think you are #don't you have better things to do rn?

231 notes

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

🌎 landscape-showdown Follow

why the fuck is everyone tagging this with french??? political figures?

#what the hell is going on over there #also maybe cool it with the death threats #I don't want this blog to get taken down #what's a girondin #is this some joke I'm not french enough to understand #showdown update

5,012 notes

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

Unpopular opinion but why is everyone so up in arms about the new Civil Oath? Literally all it's asking is for you to promise not to commit treason just because the Pope tells you to? I can see where people are coming from with the whole violation-of-religion deal, but can you blame the Assembly for trying to make sure the people aren't forcibly subjugated by the wealth of the nobility?

faith-first-alwaysdeactivated03011791

Sounds like something a heretic would say. To betray the Pope and king is to betray the will of God and your eternal soul! You should pray for forgiveness and pledge loyalty to the monarchy or have fun burning in hell. Sorry not sorry.

⛪ progressivepriest Follow

L + ratio + iirc the Bible says "it is easier for a rope to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to enter heaven" (Matthew 19:24)

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

occasional based catholic moment, go off OP!

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

looked the faith-first-always guy's blog, he's like a massive anti-huguenot too 🙄 why is it always the prot-exclusive radical catholics smh

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

LMAOOOOO HE DEACTIVATED

#religion tag #percs fuck off #anyways op makes a valid point #reblog #percs dni

3,719 notes

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

she committee on my safety til I can't go public

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

I don't understand the joke, can someone explain please?? 🙂 Thank you!

🧵 seamstressproud Follow

is that fucking MAXIMILIEN ROBESPIERRE?!!?!?!?

🛌 virtuous-bedtime Follow

oh my god citizen robespierre I'm so sorry this was not meant to break containment lol I didn't even know you were on this site please forget you saw this

#this is the most embarassing moment of my life #literally sobbing rn #the original post is /j i prommy #i cannot be known as the citizen who had to explain this to the government

19,853 notes

🪓 indulgentsfuckoff Follow

fabre d'eglantine is NOT your poor little meow meow citizens he literally falsified decrees from the national convention and embezzled money to line his own pockets. I don't care how uwu babygirl you think he is he is a CRIMINAL who should be ARRESTED

💛 i-give-people-bread Follow

🥖🍞🥐

#baguette #loaf #croissant #i-give-people-bread #indulgentsfuckoff #silly

2,011 notes

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

fucking fed up with the constant threat of the swiss guard, I think it's time we got some gunpowder and weapons and took things into our own hands yknow what I'm saying

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

I'm no longer joking about this btw

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

update:

hopital

🧱 comic-sans-culotte Follow

ok bc I've gotten like 50 asks about this: I am not injured and I am not in need of medical care. the punchline was that we stormed the fucking hotel des invalides to get guns and powder. didn't want to clarify the joke before now for security reasons but everyone knows about that and the bastille thing by now. please direct your money to people who actually need it.

#shouldve clarified the last post was /j #however I assumed yall knew this joke already #anyways #revolution #personal #500 #1k

1,930 notes

🌾 nopain-nograin Follow

got so high at the festivial 2day i thnk i saw hte suapreme being

#robespiere speech was prboably 🔥 #unforntuately i camt rember any of it #grainposting #oipum ehre is somtehing else thes days #memes

8,256 notes

🎨 jldavid-real-moved Follow

incredible speech from @springtimeofgovernment today at the jacobin club. nobody should be permitted to use their positions as civic leaders to commit crimes against the people, even under the guise of revolutionary fervor. if it comes to it, I too will drink the hemlock with him. for france. 🤝🤝

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

Thanks for your support, @jldavid-real

The situation over here is deteriorating really quickly, the representatives are getting violent and abandoning due process entirely. Anything you can do to stand with us now would be very appreciated. You do a lot of great work for the revolution, and I trust you completely.

🍊 springtimeofgovernment Follow

@jldavid-real are you still there? We could really use your help right now.

🌄 centuriesandskies Follow

boosting @springtimeofgovernment here, can confirm he's been injured in a skirmish at the hotel de ville, they're passing summary death sentences without trial, @jldavid-real where is the help you promised us??? the people of paris are our only hope now.

edit: of course he moved blogs. coward.

#sj.txt #disappointed yet unsurprised #marat would be ashamed of you #9 thermidor #update

15,794 notes

🎻 lacarmagn01e Follow

DNI if you support any of these groups/people or their actions: m0narchists, f3uillants, br1ssotins/g1rondins, th3rmidorians, b0napart1sts, h3nri du v3rgier (also goes by c0mte de r0chjacquelin), charl0tte c0rday, or lafay3tte

(h3bertists and dant0nists you're on thin ice. behave.)

#censored so they dont show up in the tags #dni #get your nasty ass ideologies off my page #won't hesitate to block and/or report any violators #pinned

52 notes

gracchus-babeufdeactivated05271797

reblog to make the directoire choke to death on their stupid fucking outfits

🌊 sea-of-revolution Follow

hey staff. yeah you. where did this blog go?? notfishgoujon and prairial-95 are gone as well?? cowards too afraid to show your faces lmao especially after the fucking mess the directoire's made of the country. bet you anything that staff are on their fucking payroll too iykwim at least the republic didn't tolerate fucking bribery

#this site's gone to the dogs since thermidor yr 2 #following the trend of the rest of the country tbh #i'll probably get nuked for posting this #if so i'm not making a new account #i'll just make a paleocities or smth #politics tag #reblog #don't play with me ik full well gb didn't delete his blog of his own free will #they also zero note glitched it #just when you think they can't stoop lower

0 notes

📕 spectrehauntingeurope Follow

it's been 50 fucking years since gracchus-babeuf (and the other CoE blogs) were deleted without warning and still no response from staff, the govt, or anything. the site's gone through a fuckton of ownership changes and still nothing.

we're working on a bit of a project (some of you might know abt it already), it's gonna be out prob in the next year or so. remember '89. remember '93 and '94. remember '97.

the people will rise again. it's only a matter of time. 🚩

-mod karl

[lawchwan]

you look pretty when you cry (zoro, law, sanji)

summary: how they would react when they see you cry requested: @somethingsaladsomething reader: gn!reader disclaimer: nsfw with sanji, use of safeword, (although the sex is consensual, sanji’s can be a bit triggering so if you don’t want to deal with the whole thing, i suggest you skip it), implied physical harassment with zoro, while this is gn! reader was refered as wife in zoro’s part, implied depression or anxiousness with law (although i suffer from both, the piece is not the most accurate rep so take it as you will), rushed work, just one piece characters being sweeties genre: headcanon, fluff, suggestive a/n: my first request !!! i hope i don't disappoint here :) sorry i took forever though

crossposted on ao3

Law

Now I don't want to sit in the chat and say Law’s emotionally unintelligent, because he is not but he definitely has his moments where he needs to read the room before he acts. bare with him, he's just learning with you on how a relationship should work. he’s the type to leave you alone when you’re upset because thats his usual instinct that when one’s upset, they want to be left alone. he kinda has to learn the hard way that that’s not always the case…

You woke up in a funk and just did not feel alright. You were stressed and burned out and all you wanted was the comfort of your big hunk of a boyfriend, a simple cuddle with no exchange of words would've sufficed for your case.

Unfortunately, that's not how life works and it can be pretty unfair. Law’s been too preoccupied with whatever he's doing. With what? you don't know and don't care, what could he be doing that's more important than comforting you on your worst days? Furthermore, it didn't help that when you woke up, he wasn't even next to you in bed before he up and left.

Loneliness consumed you as your intrusive thoughts began to take their toll on you and start inhabiting your psyche. You knew they were irrational, you knew that Law wasn't going to leave you, you knew that he has the terrible habit of Irish Goodbye-ing his way out of a situation, you KNEW that you mean so much to him.

But his lack of communication is a flaw that you never think will challenge you as you thought you already what was coming. Law was a man with little words, so you can’t expect much from him, right?

You began tearing up as you start to grasp onto the pillow that Law once laid in, getting any ounce of remnants of him that can act as a source of comfort. Sure, it contained his manly scent that makes swoon and the pillow was soft, however it didn’t contain his usually cold beating heart that you enjoyed listening while holding him. You needed him badly as you began sobbing into the plush.

Unbeknownst to you, Law walked in, completely unbothered as he placed his kikoku to the side and closed the door. It didn’t register until he heard sniffles and the muffled sobbing that made Law furrow his brows in confusion. You began shaking as you almost screamed into the pillow Law would usually sleep in.

Law looked around the room in an almost panicked manner, almost like he’s trying to find the source on who made you cry before he leaned in to the bed and began shaking you.

“hey, hey, (y/n), what happened?!” Law hastily spoke. He was not the best at emotions but he will surely go kill someone that made you feel this way.

You lifted your face from the pillow, finally looking up at the person who has been in your mind the whole time he was gone. He’s studying your face while your lips quivered before you tackled his body by wrapping your whole body into his, your face on his neck. Law threw one arm behind him for support while the other arm instinctively wrapped around your midriff.

As you two settled, Law held your head as the other began stroking your back. He didn’t know what resulted in you acting this way, so he began speaking.

“(y/n), is there any—“

“Shut up, Law,” you interrupted as you spoke into his skin which made Law taken aback, “I just want you in my arms…”

Law’s tensed body relaxed as you grasped onto him like he was about to fade away from your arms. He is usually very awkward about physical touch and emotional confrontation, but he knew he can’t simply walk away from you and leave you be whenever you you’re not feeling the greatest.

he realizes that that it’s okay to remain, and if you wanted to be left alone, you’ll tell him. For now, however, all you both need is to be in each other’s arms to ease each other up.

“It’s okay, (y/n)… I’m here now”

Zoro

another awkward man who doesn’t know how to deal with emotions. he, like law, will go after someone who tries to harm his loved ones, he’s not here to play around.

You were running for the life of you, panting as you picked up the speed as someone was chasing you down. Everything was happening so fast, one second you were just eyeing at beautiful and intricate jewelry at bazaar near town, in awe of the sheer beauty and how colorful these gems gleamed in center. It was in the pricier side, which is what you expected, but you couldn’t help but gawk at the shiny gemstone that was practically calling your name.

A man stood by you, observing how you were eyeing at the jewel, took the opportunity to introduce himself and insist on buying this beautiful gem. You’ve naturally rejected his offer…

And next thing you knew, he was harassing you and chasing you down, demanding your hand in marriage. You ran away before he caught you—thanks to Zoro’s training in speed—but that’s all you could manage to do. You began finding a spot to hide, bumping into locals as you proceed to run while the man was calling out for you.

Once you find a crevice you can hide in, you kneeled as you began to wrap your arms around your legs as your breath began to shake in fear. Tears started to well up as you silently began calling out your boyfriend, hoping he can save you from this.

“(y/n)?” you hear a familiar voice, making your head jolt up at the man standing in front of you. It was Zoro, your boyfriend whom you prayed will show up. You only shook as you began stuttering and standing up to hold him.

You began sobbing onto his chest, meanwhile he froze in place, clueless on what to do. Your intention of hiding was shown to be futile, as your sobs echoed in the market, drawing unwanted attention while Zoro was looking around to see what happened, what lead to you in this mess.

“(y/n), I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on—” Zoro sternly yet worriedly spoke before he was interrupted by a roar.

“You get your filthy hands out of my future wife!”

Your blood ran cold as you heard that deep voice that struck fear into you. Once Zoro felt the stiffness and looked at the man who stood in front of the two of you, he already connected the puzzle pieces together.

So that’s the bastard that made you cry in fear…

“Your future wife, you say,” Zoro smirked that iconic devilish smirk before he rubbed your back, silently telling you to release him, which you did. That’s who Zoro was, a man with not many words, but you understood his language better than anyone could. You stood back while Zoro crossed his arms with a straight stand as he eyes at the man who’s ready attack him.

“That’s right! I even got her the jewel she wanted!” The harasser yelled as he grabbed hold of the jewel. You once admired that ring he was holding, now that it was in his hands, he absolutely tainted it. But Zoro couldn’t careless, he gathered both of his swords out, making the man jump in fear.

“Oh, I see, you got her that ring, how romantic…” Zoro taunted, enjoying the sight of the cowardly man standing in front of him. You only gulped at the sight, you knew Zoro will kill him, and he could only spare him if the man just ran away. Zoro simply walked up to him only for the man to walk backwards, legs shaking.

“Stand back! O-or I will kil—“

“Would like to see you try.” Zoro harshly spoke, which made the man ran before Zoro intimidatedly raised his sword at him.

“Coward,” he mumbled to himself before he placed his swords back to their case. Before he turned, he looked at the gleaming ring on the ground. He walked up to the source and picked it up to examine it, that was the ring that the man was holding earlier.

He turned to you, hugging yourself in the corner, not wanting your boyfriend to see your crying face. He smiled at you as he showcased the ring in his palm, “is this the ring that you were admiring?”

You only pursed your lips as you nodded. As much as you wanted to hate the ring for what that man did, you still had to admit that that ring was the most beautiful jewel you’ve ever laid your eyes on.

Zoro held your hand gently, and placed the ring in your ring finger. You looked at him in awe, only for him to smirk at you.

“I may not have bought the ring, which is a shame, but you deserve it…” He’s not the most romantic, but he always means well, which made you giggle when he tried to be one. He smiled at you as he held your face, rubbing away the remaining tear on your face.

”i got you, okay? just remember that…”

Sanji

out of the three of them, Sanji’s definitely the more in tune of emotions. He may not be the vulnerable one in the relationship, but he definitely allows himself to be emotional when he wants to with you and this man will do anything that will make that frown upside down.

It was a long night after a stressful day for the two of you. You thought you needed that destress but I guess your body asked for something different.

It was like any other regular session, Sanji gave you the foreplay that you needed before he laid on top of you, thrusting in and out of you letting out the sweetest of moans and whimpers.

He praises you and repeatedly tells you how good you feel, all the thibgs that typically turns you on, yet you feel like you’re in pain.

You don’t know what’s wrong, but you just didn’t feel good while Sanji attempts on pleasuring you. Instead there was this sharp pain in between your legs, the stretch of his cock went from the usual pleasurable sensation to discomfort.

“S-sanji… please…” you moaned out, but it wasn’t of arousal. Unfortunately, it sounded too similar to your pleasured state, thus Sanji thought you were just in pleasure, so he went in a pace much painful than you expected.

“fuck, c’mon, baby, c’mon, you’re doing so good~”

There was no use, you were in so much pain and you felt your tears welling up and started to sob at the sharp that your boyfriend has no idea of. You simply cannot take it anymore.

”BUTTERSQUASH!”

once you yelped out the safeword, Sanji’s blissed closed eyes shot open as he halted his movement. He was looking at the headboard until he heard you sob. His heart sank as he pulled away from you and backed away slightly, far to give you space but close enough to be able to check on you.

“baby, are you okay?” He looked at you with concern in his eyes, his blue eyes glimmer in worry, guilt written all across his face, “I am so sorry, darling, I should’ve guessed that you weren’t comfortable…”

You reached out for his hand and shook your head as you got closer to him, “don’t apologize, I thought I also needed this, but I guess I don’t”

That didn’t reassured his guilty self one bit, so you began stroking his face and placed your forehead on his.

“It’s okay, Sanji, I’m okay.”

Sanji just pulled you in to his embrace and you hugged him back as you relax onto his arms.

“I’ll never hurt you, nor will I allow anyone to hurt you… You’re too precious to be hurt…”

characters are owned by oda. i will not tolerate nor accept translation, reposts on other websites, or plagiarism. divider made by mmadeinheavenn.

[zablife]

Missing You

Benny Cross x gf reader

Summary: After a wreck puts you in the hospital, Benny takes off. Will he return or leave you with more than just a broken leg?

Warnings: hospital setting, injury, brief mention of motorcycle accident, fear of abandonment, angst with fluffy ending

A/N: My first fic for The Bikeriders, pls be kind! Comments are love so leave me some 💕 No spoilers here!

Divider credit @firefly-graphics

Benny Cross Masterlist

You turned in the narrow hospital bed, head throbbing from the pain and the bright overhead light in your eyes. "Benny," you mumbled, head fuzzy and mouth feeling as though it were stuffed with cotton.

"Isn't there anyone else we could call?" a tired voice asked from far away. "A relative? Parents?"

There was a shuffle and whispering that sounded like a passing cloud over your head. "No one...she doesn't speak to...don't make it worse, please. He'll be back."

You tried to sit up to see what was happening, but you felt a wave a nausea which stopped you suddenly. Screwing your eyes shut to will it away, the gentle rocking only continued, making you whimper.

"Shhh, lie back, honey," a warm voice instructed, pressing you down into the soft pillows. You felt the warmth of a hand encasing yours as reassuring words poured over you like honey. "They put you under to fix that busted leg, but you're gonna be fine now. Just need a little rest, that's all."

You blinked slowly and opened your eyes once more, fixing your gaze on Johnny's wife, Betty. She gave you a small smile and you felt yourself relax at the sight of her kind eyes. Much like Johnny had for Benny, she had become a role model for you, teaching you how to make a life with the Vandals. Now she was more of a mother to you than your flesh and blood.

"Wh-where's Benny?" you asked, a bit more coherently than you'd managed before.

Betty busied herself pouring some water into a cup for you and your heart began to race, wondering if she was stalling. The memories were coming back to you in full force now, Benny carrying you into the hospital after the crash, yelling at the nurses and doctors. Had he abandoned you then because of the trouble or later when he learned of the care you'd require? You felt hot tears welling in your lash line as you realized this might be the end.

As she turned back to you with the cup, Betty's face fell. Sighing gently, she confirmed your worst fears. "He's not coming back tonight, Y/n."

You couldn't stop the sobs that wracked your body, shoulders shaking and chest heaving with the weight of her words. She allowed you a moment of despair, a hand stroking down your back in soothing circles. When that didn't seem to comfort you, she asked, "Don't you remember the nurses asking Benny to leave?"

Stifling a cry, you sniffed, "No, what are you talking about?"

"I thought you knew."

"Benny stayed?"

"Sure he did, paced all night. Got himself so worked up, he punched a hole in the wall over there! They told him he had to show himself the door or the cops would," Betty explained, the rush of words leaving her mouth so quickly you barely comprehended it all.

You inhaled a deep breath, feeling lightheaded from the relief. "He still wants me?" you mumbled to yourself. There had always been a deep fear coursing through you that someday Benny would take off and never come back. You'd been warned many times he was a man who liked his freedom.

"He still what?" Betty asked, looking at you in confusion. "Sweetie it's none of my business, but I think you should try to sleep now."

Nodding in agreement, you sunk beneath the hospital blankets, exhaustion quickly overtaking your tired mind.

When your eyes reopened, sunlight was pouring through the blinds. A lazy smile spread across your face as you realized your head was no longer pounding with the incessant pain from yesterday. Though your leg now ached in its place and an irritating itch inside your cast was nagging you, somehow you had a good feeling about the day ahead. Stretching your arms above your head, you startled at the sound of a familiar, deep voice.

"Hi baby."

Your heart caught in your chest, too afraid to look if it was actually him.

"Ain't you gonna say hello?" Benny asked, his handsome face hovering over you like a blue eyed angel.

"Oh, Benny," you whimpered, eyes filling with tears.

"Hey, hey...don't cry," he urged, sweeping your hair away for a cautious kiss. You strained to meet the soft press of his full lips against yours, leaning into the gentle touch of his fingertips lacing through your hair. He kept his weight from you, careful not to worsen the bruising he knew you'd sustained to your ribs.

As his beard brushed your cheek, the gravel in his voice rumbled into your chest along with the words you'd longed to hear, "I missed my girl."

"I missed you. What the hell happened?"

Benny chuckled, his teeth shining in that mischievous grin he wore when he knew he'd been caught. His gaze turned toward the crumbling plaster he'd left in the wake of his anger, straightening his denim jacket as he confessed, "Mighta made some trouble."

"I heard," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. "Betty told me, but she didn't say why," you prodded with a raised eyebrow.

Benny pulled up a chair, taking your hand between his large calloused palms. "Listen, I want you to know somethin."

You furrowed your brow uncertain where he was headed.

He rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand as he spoke, his speech slow and tender as you'd never heard him before. A man of few words you weren't prepared for what came next. "I know you don't have kin...kin that claim you anyway." You stared down at his rings, watching them glimmer in the light as he chewed his lip in concentration, choosing his next words carefully. "We been riding together a couple of years now and you gotta know by now that I'll never leave you behind."

Swallowing a lump in your throat, you realized how wrong you'd been, misjudging your boyfriend in a moment of fear. The reputation Benny had as a loner who only looked out for himself simply wasn't true. The love you felt for each other was real, he was telling you so right now. The thought stirred butterflies in your stomach the likes of which you hadn't felt since you met.

Reaching for his face, you cupped his blonde scruff as you proclaimed, "I want to be with you too."

His eyes fell to the floor, thick lashes downcast as he was overcome by a sudden rush of shyness. Perhaps he'd already said too much, revealed a part of himself he kept hidden for fear of exposing weakness. However, you were reveling in it, especially when he raised his head to add another word of praise just for you.

"I was proud of you when we went down. Took it like a champ, you know?"

It was your turn to look away, blush creeping up your neck as you shook your head in vehement denial.

"No, I mean it. The first thing you asked when they got you in here was when you was gonna ride again!" he chuckled at the memory.

"What?" you asked incredulously.

"Yeah, the nurses all thought you were crazy. Said so too," he recalled, bitterness rolling off his tongue. He sighed heavily as he admitted, "That's why I punched the wall."

Staring up at the ceiling, you finally connected all the pieces and let out a little huff. It was soon followed by a snort, then a rolling wave of laughter as you were unable to contain your amusement at your boyfriend's classic impulsiveness. All the hurt and pain melted away as you realized it had all been a wayward attempt to defend you.

"M glad you think it's funny I almost got arrested," he protested.

"And I got a broken leg, Benny!" you countered sternly.

"You win," he conceded with a grin.

Looking down at the cast you turned sullen. "Can't ride with you now."

"Says who?" he asked, drawing close to you. His bright eyes danced with spirited challenge, daring you to defy him.

"I just thought..." you stumbled, feeling all willpower leave your body. When Benny asked something of you, the only answer was yes.

"You go where I go. We make trouble together, remember?" he said, sliding an arm over your waist and pulling you into him for another slow, sensual kiss.

"Sure do, don't we?" you agreed, moving in unison with him. Clutching onto his jacket you asked, "We going home now? I'm done missing you."

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Idol!Han Jisung x F!Reader TW : cheating ; breakup ; regret ; very angsty ; surprise pregnancy ; Word Count : 3.5k Request : it was the winner of the poll, does that count? A/N : Here we go!! Gonna make this one hurt!

You sat on the couch, knee bouncing, phone in your hand, watching as the clock at the top of your lock screen switched to 3 in the morning. Not a single text, not a call, nothing from the man whose selfie adorned your lock screen with his puffy cheeks and his adorable smile that you fell in love with every single time he flashed it at you. You had gotten nothing since he had left for the award show almost 9 hours ago, the award show that you had watched from start to finish, even catching the moment when all of the artists had gotten up to start heading out. He wasn’t there anymore… But he sure as hell wasn’t home. 

Maybe he just went back to the dorms… Was what you had thought at first, just a simple thought to try to ease your mind and keep you from thinking the worst, but if that were the case you were sure that he would have texted you to let you know instead of keeping you up all night waiting for some type of communication. Had something bad happened? No, you would have seen it on the news and you were sure that you would have heard something by now. No… He was just ignoring you… Maybe he was just drunk. 

Either way, you wanted to call him just to be sure, especially since you were tired of waiting around for him. You dialed his number and let it ring, and maybe you should have hung up after the third ring to save yourself the heartache that came once the phone was answered. Not by him though, by someone else… You wished it had been one of the guys, but it wasn’t… It was a girl, one that sounded drunk and flustered and… God, you didn’t even want to think about the sinful noises that were made between each word as you heard your fiance's drunken giggles in the background mixed with his own noises… Noises that you had heard on multiple occasions when you were the one sharing the bed with him. 

“Sorry… wrong number…” You had mumbled, trying to hold back the sobs that were caught in your throat, feeling like they were going to choke you completely. You couldn’t breathe, your vision was a blur, the room felt like it was spinning, but you knew that the nauseous feeling wasn’t from being dizzy… No… it was from knowing that the man that you had planned on spending the rest of your life with, the man that you were willing to devote the rest of your life to was lower than low… And the men that you had trusted to look out for you like brothers look out for their sisters had most likely cheered on that man when he took another woman into his bedroom. 

It was hard to remember when you fell asleep, but you knew that you didn’t do it on purpose considering you woke up on the couch the next morning curled up in the fetal position. Your eyelids felt heavy and the sunlight that poured in through the open window burned your sensitive eyes that had been draining tears like a faucet the night before. “Looks like someone fell asleep while watching the award show. You’re so cute, shnookems.” Jisungs voice sounded out from somewhere close by, although your sleep and tear blurred vision made it hard to focus on where he truly was. 

You would have just thought that the night before was a bad dream, just some awful nightmare that you had since he wasn’t at home next to you, but when he let out that quiet little giggle it brought you back to the phone call and you felt sick all over again. “I hate you…” You said as flatly as possible, wiping the sleep from your eyes to finally focus on him, the way his smile faded to a look of shock at what you had said. “Don’t… Don’t talk to me… I hate you… I’m done with you.” 

Not even a good morning, nothing to start the day so that you could lead into the breakup. You went straight for it, diving headfirst into the conversation. “Wh-What are you talking about? Babe, come on… That’s… That’s not funny. Come on… You must have had a bad dream or something… let’s get you some coffee.” He stammered, pushing himself up off the recliner to walk over to where you were now sitting up on the couch, fresh tears already brewing on your bottom lashes. 

His hands were outstretched, waiting for you to grab them or maybe even take your place between his arms, but you smacked them away, shaking your head as you glared up at him. “You’re shit! You’re a lousy, no good, cheater! And don’t you even try to lie to me and say that you didn’t because I fucking heard you, Jisung!” You shouted, although your voice cracked on multiple occasions. You were devastated, heartbroken, but most of all you were pissed. 

So badly you wanted him to deny it, to tell you that it wasn’t true, but his hesitation and the look of guilt that washed over his features was enough for you to know that it hadn’t been a bad dream, that what you heard was real. “Babe… Let’s just… Can we talk about it?” He whispered, keeping his hands at his sides although you could see in the way that they were twitching that he wanted nothing more than to hold you, although you would have just pushed him away if he tried to. 

“Talk about what? I don’t want to hear lies or excuses. I heard enough last night. I waited up for you after the fucking show, I waited until 3 in the goddamn morning… And I called you… And some… Some other girl answered and I… I fucking heard everything. You disgust me! I want nothing to do with you!” You finally pushed yourself off the couch, trying to move past him, but his arms wrapped around you, trying so hard to keep you from walking away. “Don’t! Don’t touch me!” You screamed, pushing him away from you. 

It seemed so hypocritical for him to be crying right now, especially since you were the one that had been cheated on, but alas, the tears that flowed down your cheeks were perfectly mirrored on his face. “I was drunk! I was drunk and I know that’s not an excuse, but I really… I truly didn’t mean it! I swear to god, I didn’t!” He sobbed, taking tiny steps towards you, but for each small step that he took, you took two more back. “Baby… please… I love you so fucking much… I… I can’t breathe… I just… I need to know that things will be okay. I can… I’m sorry… If you need space, I can do that… Just don’t… Don’t leave me… Please.” 

“How…” You scoffed, shaking your head, laughing in both shock and disbelief at the audacity that he had to even try to plead. “How can you possibly be so fucking selfish? You don’t have the right to tell me not to leave after you cheated on me. I’m done. We’re over. You can…” You pulled the ring from your finger, the ring that you promised that you’d never take off… But that was before all this, before you knew how he really was. “You can have this back, I don’t want it. I don’t want any parts of you. I’m so fucking glad that this happened before I was dumb enough to marry you.” You threw the ring to the floor right at his feet, the diamond facets reflecting the light of the sun. “Don’t call me, don’t text me, don’t try to have one of the guys try to get in touch with me either. I don’t want anything to do with you or anything that you do once I walk out that door.” 

“Then don’t walk out…” The words rushed out as he swiped the ring off the floor and ran over to where you were standing. “I’m stupid… I’m so stupid. I don’t want to lose this… I don’t want to lose you. One chance… I just want one chance to prove to you that… That I didn’t mean to do it, I’ll never do it again. It was a mistake!” 

“Would you just stop already?!” You hissed, whipping around on your heel to face him as he followed you into the bedroom. “This is hard enough for me, and I don’t need you hounding me about how sad you are because you fucked up. You don’t deserve a second chance, you don’t deserve anymore chances because you’re a cheater, and once a cheater, always a cheater. So either help me pack my shit up so I can get the fuck away from you, or go sit and wallow in your self pity in the living room while I do it myself.” 

///

“So you’re not gonna say anything about it? You’re not even gonna tell him?” Soobin asked as he sat across from you in the little cafe. He had been your savior since you had left Jisung, allowing you to crash in the dorms at night until it got to the point where he eventually just told you that you might as well live there. He and the rest of the boys rarely ever saw the ones that you were trying to avoid unless they were on music shows, but Jisung was none the wiser that you, Soobin, and the rest of the guys had gotten so close. It made it easy to stay with them and practically hide out in their dorm until you made enough money to get a place of your own. 

“Soob… With all due respect, I haven’t even had the time to process it myself, and the last thing I want to deal with is my ex fiance coming back into my life when it’s been turned upside down once again.” You retorted, running your hands over your face as you let out a loud sigh. “I’ve got so much shit that I have to figure out, and I have less than 4 months to do it. I’m stressed enough as it is… I don’t need him to add onto that.” 

It was crazy, but you were pregnant, and to find out when you were already 5 months along was even crazier. You hadn’t gained any weight that you knew about, and even if you did gain anything, it wasn’t enough for you to think that it was from anything but maybe eating a little bit more than you usually would. You had experienced no symptoms at all, and you were so stressed with life itself that you hadn’t even cared for the fact that you might have missed a few periods, you even accompanied the lateness to the overload of stress. 

It wasn’t until you felt something weird, the movement in your stomach, that you asked Yeonjun to take you to the hospital because you had for some reason assumed that you had somehow gotten worms. “But it would be his kid, right? I mean… Doesn’t he have the right to know? I’m not telling you to do it now… But… I mean… it’s his kid.” Soobin tried to reason with you, and you hated that you had decided to confide in one of the two level headed ones in the group, but he was also easier to talk with and you were closer with him than the others. 

“I’m not going to hide it from him… I’m just not ready to tell him yet. Let me work this out in my own head first and then I’ll drop the bomb on him.” Although you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to tell him. Sure, it was his child, but you also didn’t want to have to deal with sharing custody of this surprise child with your cheating ex. It would be so much easier to just raise the baby yourself and if anyone asked, you could just say that it was someone else’s, although that felt morally wrong… But then again, what Jisung did was morally wrong as well. “I’ve got to figure out housing, I’ve got to tell my boss… It’s a lot… I don’t want to deal with him right now.” 

Soobin nodded, humming understandingly as he reached across the table, placing his hand over top of yours that was drumming nervously against the wooden top. “It is a lot, and that’s why me and the guys are going to help you. You can continue staying at the dorms, even after the baby is born if you don’t find a place soon enough. We will help you.” And maybe it was the hormones that caused it, but the kindness of his words and the softness in his eyes had you uncontrollably weeping in the tiny cafe. “Oh boy… Uhm… Come on… Let’s get you back home.” 

///

Jisung sat in the interview chair, his mind cloudy from lack of sleep. Promotional tours and mini shows had him exhausted, and working on the new album kept him busier than he usually would be. He was thankful for it though, unable to think too much about his mistakes, having no time to think about you and what you might be doing. He missed you, but it was clear from the lack of texts or calls back that you didn’t feel the same. Maybe you had blocked him, and he wouldn’t blame you if you did, but it would be better that way so you wouldn’t have to read the texts that he sent you daily about how sorry he was and how much he loved you. 

“Are you ready to start?” The interviewer asked, and all the guys nodded in unison, all except Jisung who was trying his best to just keep his head from falling forward and dozing off. “Great! So, my first question is for Han…” The sound of his name had his eyes shooting open, pretending that he wasn’t on the verge of passing out right then and there, nodding to let the interviewer know that she could keep going. “So, we’ve all read the headlines and, we’ve come up with our own conclusions regarding some recent events in your life…” The vagueness had Jisung lowering his eyebrows questioningly, waiting for her to get to her point, but a part of him had a sinking feeling on where the question was going. “How do you feel about your ex fiancee being seen out on dates with another idol?” 

Jisung wasn’t very up to date on current news, especially in the world of music considering he had his own headlines to make with the upcoming album. He hadn’t seen anything about you being out on dates with anyone, especially another idol, and he surely hadn’t heard about it in his little circle of other famous friends. He wasn’t even sure if what the interviewer was saying was true, but if it was, his genuine reaction would be heartbroken, but he had to play it off like he wasn’t. “Well, we’ve been apart for… For a while now and… Well, if whoever she’s with is making her happy, who am I to be upset about that. I want nothing but the best for her and whoever she may be with…” He said, trying his best to sound confident, but he was already getting choked up and he felt his eyes glossing over as tears threatened to fall. “Can we take a quick break? I’m sorry.” 

Minho was quick to follow behind the younger man who had rushed into the closest corner as he tried to cry as quietly as possible, which was quite hard, and it felt like all the eyes in the room were on him right now. “Hey… Hey, come on man. Calm down. We don’t even know if it was Y/N that was in whatever pictures that the interviewer was talking about. It could have been anyone, and you know that sometimes interviewers say things to try to get certain reactions out of us. It’s okay…” He tried to pat Jisungs shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, but when the younger man turned around he was an absolute wreck. 

“But what if it is her? I know it’s been months, and I know I fucked up, but I don’t want her with anyone else. I want to be the one to make her happy and take her on dates. I want to be the one that comes home to her at night and cuddles up next to her.” Minho grimaced at the cringy images that were being painted in his mind right now, but he tried to hide it, he was really trying to be there for Jisung even though he knew what had happened, and if asked to take a side, although not in front of Jisung, he would take yours in a heartbeat. “What other idol would do that? I’m so nice to everyone… Who would take her from me like that? Why?” 

Minho shook his head, taking a deep breath through his nose and letting it out slowly. “I think you’re getting way ahead of yourself. You need to calm down and finish the interview, and then we’ll go home and work things out after we figure out what is going on. Okay?” Minho offered, and in the back of his mind he was hoping that whoever it was in the picture wasn’t you because that would surely only make things worse, and Minho didn’t want to see Jisung worse than what he was right now. 

///

“What are you talking about?” Soobin asked, and you turned the corner of the hall to look at him, about to open your mouth to question what he was talking about or who he was talking to, but he quickly lifted his finger to his lips in a motion for you to stay silent, which you quickly obliged to. “Jisung, she’s not here. I don’t know what pictures you thought you saw, but I really think you’re freaking out for no reason.” He put his phone on speaker so you could listen, and part of you wished that he hadn’t because hearing Jisung put two and two together was making you freak out just as much as he was. 

“I’m not freaking out for no reason!” Jisungs shrill voice screeched through the speakers of Soobins phone. “I know what my fiancee looks like! I’ve had multiple photos taken of her and I like that! I know that’s her! Why are you with her?! You took her from me!” He continued shouting, and you could hear his voice breaking at the end of each sentence and then the heavy shaking breaths as he tried to catch his breath between crying and speaking. 

Soobin shook his head, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. Clearly Jisung wasn’t going to back down, and you didn’t want Soobins life to be made harder by Jisungs constant badgering, so just as Soobin was about to speak, you spoke up. “He didn’t take me from you.” You stated matter-of-factly, and Soobins mouth fell open as silence filled Jisungs end of the line. “You cheated on me. You caused this. And you can stop attacking him. It’s not like we’re together, I’m not with anyone right now because I’ve got bigger things to deal with and handle then finding someone else to be in my life.” 

You heard Jisung gasp, and then the shuffle of feet as he seemingly ran off somewhere, maybe somewhere more private, or maybe somewhere where all of the guys were, you weren’t quite sure. “Why… Why are you hiding from me? Why are you ignoring me? I just want to see you… I just… I need to see you. I fucked things up, I get that… But… Maybe we can be friends… I still want you in my life, Y/N…” He whispered, and it made it clear that wherever he went, it was far away from anyone and everyone. “Can we just meet up or something? I can even come over to their dorms if you don’t want to be alone with me… Just… Something, anything… please?” 

You looked around the dorm that was littered with boxes from nursery furniture, a stockpile of diapers, wipes, and baby bottles and powdered formula just so that you’d be ready. There was no way in hell that he’d be able to come over here and see you without figuring out what was going on. “No… I… I don’t want to see you.” You muttered, biting your bottom lip, and for some reason, foolishly waiting for Jisung to understand. 

“Well… I don’t care. I want to see you and… And I’m coming over. I’m coming over to see you dammit.” He said, and before you or Soobin could argue against it, the call had ended, leaving you and Soobin to stare at each other with panicked eyes. This wouldn’t end well… There’s no way it could. 

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[sodaabaa]

to flee or not to flee, part five

anthony bridgerton x OC what happens when a charming and determined viscount courts someone whose worst fear is to marry a man like him?

tropes: damsel in distress, innocent and shy mc, slow burn

tw: mentions of domestic abuse, angst, anxiety, slight misogyny/patriarchal concepts, nsfw (wedding night scene), mentions of scars and past abuse.

masterlist

see playlist for the story here!

The rest of the week was a blur after Annalise had accepted the viscount’s proposal. She could barely keep up with Lady Bridgerton and Daphne and the speed with which they planned the wedding. They’d travel back to Mayfair tomorrow to prepare for the wedding which was set to take place on the Friday of the upcoming week. Invites had been sent the morning after the viscount – Anthony, he’d insisted Annalise call him – announced the news. Lady Bridgerton nearly fainted in excitement, simply ecstatic that her eldest son was finally set to marry. She and Daphne immediately snatched Annalise away from the rest of the family, questioning her on all her favorite things to ensure the wedding would be to her taste. 

Annalise lay in bed that night, relieved to finally have a moment to herself. Once the wedding plans were set, Thomas hadn’t said a word to Annalise. She supposed she should have expected it, Annalise was nothing but a burden to Thomas from the moment their parents died – she was another man’s burden now. Still, her brother’s neglect hurt, her eyes stinging with tears as she thought about how utterly alone she was. No mother to hold her, explain to her what she should expect of married life. No father to give her away with a kiss on her forehead. 

A gentle knock on the door pulled Annalise out of her thoughts. She sat up, wiping away the tears with the backs of her hands. 

“Come in,” she said, her voice hoarse.

It was Anthony who opened the door, peering inside with a smile.

“I’m not interrupting am I?” 

Annalise sniffled, “No, not at all Lor-” Anthony narrowed his eyes at her. 

“Anthony,” the name felt foreign on her tongue. 

He smiled, walked towards her, and took a seat next to her. When he noticed the red around her nose and puffy eyes, his smile fell, replaced with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He said his hand on the small of her back. She shivered at the touch. 

She inhaled, “Nothing, I suppose I’m just nervous is all.” 

He tilted his head, not entirely convinced with her answer. 

“Your brother hasn’t spoken with you all week” he deduced, seeing right through Annalise.

Her eyes fell to the floor. 

“Annalise,” He lifted her chin with a single finger, “let me tell you a little secret” He smiled.

“One of the perks of becoming a Bridgerton is that you now have three annoying, meddlesome but loving brothers at your disposal. Benedict has already grown quite fond of you. They’re all glad that you’re to join our family," he continued. 

She couldn’t hold back the tears that fell from her eyes, eliciting a hushing coo from Anthony who wiped away the tears as they fell. When that didn’t stop her tears, he pulled her into his chest protectively. She sank into his embrace, shoulders shaking, now full-on sobbing. He only held her, fingers raking through her hair, until she calmed.

She pulled away, “My apologies, I didn't mean to be a burden – and oh!" She sighed, "I ruined your coat,” tears welled in her eyes again, looking down at the wet patch on his lapels, emitting a soft laugh from the man before her.

“Annalise,” he waited until she looked up at him again before continuing, “you are no burden, you are to be my wife and I intend to make you a happy one at that” he touched his forehead to hers, his hands held her face. After she’d calmed again, he brought her forehead to his lips, pressing a soft kiss. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

They returned to Mayfair the next day, Annalise found herself already missing the country air. She sat in the drawing room, waiting for her brother – the butler had sent for her, informing her that Thomas needed to speak with her. The doors opened and he walked in, Annalise rose but he waved a hand motioning for her to remain seated. He took a seat in front of her after grabbing a glass and filling it with a drink.

He cleared his throat, “Annalise. I’m not entirely sure how you managed to catch the eye of the viscount but no matter, now that you are set to marry you must know your duty is to produce an heir as soon as you can to secure your position as viscountess” he said, not a hint of warmth in his voice – only cold, distant calculation. 

Annalise was taken aback. It’d been nearly two weeks since he’d spoken to her and this was the first thing he said? 

“Do you understand?” He barked, impatient.

She nodded, unable to gather the proper words to voice what she wanted to say to him.

He clapped his hands, “Well, congratulations then.” With that, he rose, leaving just as quickly as he’d arrived.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Anthony watched Annalise stare out the carriage her fingers fiddling absentmindedly with the beads of her bodice. He wished there was something he could say that’d rid her of all her worries and fears. If only it were as easy as saying a few words. He learned quite early on that Annalise did not believe in words, throughout their week at Aubrey Hall before the wedding, he tried his absolute hardest to get her to see that he meant no harm. To his surprise, it worked, even if it was only a little. She no longer stiffened at his touch or avoided his gaze. He’d have to be patient and Anthony was content with that. As long as Annalise felt safe, he’d wait an eternity if need be. 

He could see Aubrey Hall in the distance. Annalise turned to him, brows furrowed and lips parted. She wanted to say something but he could see her hesitance.

“Yes?” He encouraged her.

“Why did you pardon Thomas from providing a dowry?”

Ah. “I think it’s quite clear I am in no need of one.”

She wasn’t satisfied, “then why did you provide payment to Thomas?”

Anthony sighed, “I did what I had to do to ensure your brother would not be a hindrance to my proposal.”

He hoped this would be enough for her. She was already heartbroken by her brother’s behavior during the past week, he did not want to add to that heartbreak by telling her of her brother's plans to marry her off to another man who'd promised payment.

She turned away, satisfied enough for now he assumed. The entire ride she’d been silent and now that he’d heard her voice, he yearned for more.

“What did my family say about me when you were conducting your interrogations of them? I’d wager they voiced some disdain?” He asked.

“They had some grievances,” she said with a teasing smile on her face. God, he’d do anything to see more of the smile that brought him to his knees.

“But rest assured, your sisters adore you. And your brothers admire you very much. You raised them well.” 

His brows rose in surprise. He’d half expected her time with his siblings to deter her from his proposal and point out every little flaw Anthony possessed. The carriage stopped, signaling their arrival. Anthony stepped out of the carriage first, offering a hand to Annalise after.

“Welcome home, Lady Bridgerton,” he said, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand – eliciting yet another timid smile from his wife as she took in the view before her. Anthony gazed at the woman before him, she was entirely unaware of the way she made his heart swell. No matter, she’ll find out soon enough. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Night had fallen, and the stars glistened in the sky as Annalise gazed up at the sky from her seat at the windowsill. Much of the afternoon was spent with the maids, setting up her belongings in the master bedroom while Anthony left to tend to some business as viscount. She looked around, pastel blue and gold peppered the room, and her eyes fell to the bed – her stomach fluttered. Violet paid her a visit before the wedding, she’d wanted to explain the matters of the wedding night to her. Though she was vague, Annalise understood the basics of what she’d meant to say and it caused knots in her stomach every time she remembered the duty she must fulfill. She repeatedly reminded herself that Anthony had been nothing but gentle and patient with her, that it would be alright but it was no use. She couldn’t quell the anxiety rising to the surface. 

As if on cue, the doorknob turned and Anthony entered. Like that night in the library, he’d abandoned his coat and vest. Dressed only in a shirt and trousers, sleeves rolled up and hair disheveled. He looked divine. She found it difficult to look away, caught in a daze as he approached her. A hand snaked up the side of her neck, finding the nape and pulling her in for a kiss. 

Oh. 

Butterflies swarmed her stomach, feeling lightheaded as he kissed her. 

“Hello wife,” he murmured against her lips, lips curved into a smile.

She looked up at him, cheeks heating up. When she didn’t respond, he bent down, arms wrapped around her lower body as he lifted her and moved them over to the bed. 

“Anthony!” She squealed in surprise, a laugh escaping her.

He placed her on the bed, she rested up on her elbows but before she could speak any further, he knocked her arms down causing her to fall back onto the plush pillows underneath. She giggled, trying to swat his hands away to no avail, he wrapped his hands around the backs of her knees, yanking her towards him at the edge of the bed. She stared up at him, mouth agape at his impatience. 

“You,” he leaned down, “are,” his lips trailed her jaw, pausing for a moment before continuing. He kissed gently at a sensitive spot underneath her jaw, moving down to her neck leaving a burning path of kisses. His breath tickled her skin. She shuddered.

“Exquisite,” he finished. He returned to her face, lips meeting hers in a feverish kiss while his hands trailed up her arms, leaving goosebumps all over her skin. He pulled at the front of her robe, eager to be rid of the fabric boundary between them. She stirred, breaking the kiss. Her hands shot down to his. 

“Wait!” She exclaimed, breathless from the kiss. 

He looked down at her in confusion but halted his advances. She dragged herself up, making room for her to sit up on the bed. Her hair fell over her shoulders, grateful for the extra cover they provided her. She wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly self-conscious and afraid of what he’d think of her imperfections. He sat in front of her, the bed shifted with his weight. 

“What is it? Are you afraid? We can wait, if you’d like,” he reassured, he reached for her hands. 

Their hands intertwined, he brought one of hers up to his lips and placed a kiss into her palm.

“No - it’s just that,” she hesitated, at a loss for words.

“Annalise, whatever it is you can tell me,” he whispered, eyes searching her face.

She inhaled, bracing herself.

“I’m afraid you’ll find me unpleasing,” she admitted, looking away from him.

He instantly took her face in his hands, forcing her attention back to him. 

“You are bewitching, Annalise. There’s not a woman in the world who can compare to your beauty. Look at me,” he commanded, eyes dark with desire.

She held his gaze, “I have scars.” 

Pain flashed across his face at her confession. His eyes searched her face, brow set in determination.

“Do you trust me?” He asked.

She only nodded.

“I need you to say it, Annalise,” eyes narrowing to emphasize his point.

“I trust you,” she whispered.

His hands made their way back to her waist, at the front of her robe where he held them for a moment. He looked at her once again, waiting for her confirmation. She nodded. He wasted no time in undoing the robe, letting it slip off her shoulders. She shivered at the sudden rush of air against her bare skin. He moved her hair out of the way and pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

“Turn around.”

She obeyed, turning towards the pillows and away from the man who was driving her crazy with need.

He gently guided her down to the bed, laying her on her stomach. Her bare back faced him and she wiggled as his hands traced down her spine. Her eyes fluttered shut as she steadied her breathing. She felt him lean down, he started kissing across her shoulders, down her spine until he reached the bottom of her torso. A tear slipped from her eyes when she realized what he was doing. 

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Anthony winced when he saw the scars peppering his wife’s fair skin. She was so delicate. He couldn’t imagine the horrors she’d been through which led to the marks across her skin. Some were long, some were short, some were circles – cigar burns he realized. His vision turned red, rage filling his chest. He inhaled deeply. Thomas would pay for his abuse. But right now, his wife needed him. He pushed away thoughts of revenge as he laid kisses on Annalise’s back. He felt her shudder with each kiss as he made his way down her back, taking great care to place a kiss on each and every scar, he intended to make her forget about the pain she’d endured all these years.

Once he’d finished peppering her back with kisses, he turned her around to face him. Her eyes were teary but she smiled, leaning up from the pillow to kiss him. Her hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. His own hands trailed down to her waist, pulling her into an embrace. He needed to be closer, closer. He pulled away, eliciting a whine from the beautiful girl beneath him.

“Oh, just a moment you minx,” he teased.

He lifted his shirt over his head and undid his trousers. Annalise’s eyes widened at the sight of his bare chest. 

“Annalise,” he bent down to kiss her once more, “this may hurt. If, at any moment you feel discomfort, please tell me and I will stop at once” he held her gaze to emphasize his point. 

“I promise,” she nodded.

“Good girl,” he praised, placing a kiss on her forehead. A blush spread across her cheeks. He wanted to devour her when she blushed like that.

He prepared himself, positioning himself against her. She wiggled nervously, looking up at him in anticipation. He pushed forward, sinking into absolute bliss. He kept himself from groaning as he scanned Annalise’s face for signs of discomfort. Her face scrunched at the sudden invasion but she let out a moan and he lost all restraint. He pushed forward again, watching her carefully. He caught her lips in a burning kiss as they continued. Anthony hadn’t known pleasure like this despite all the women he’d been with in the past. He could spend the rest of his life sinking deeper into the magnificent woman before him and it still wouldn’t be enough for him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

Annalise spent the next few weeks learning to be a viscountess and visiting the townspeople who lived under Anthony’s jurisdiction. She spent the days managing the day to day affairs of their estate while the nights were reserved for her husband and his endless doting of her. She fell deeper and deeper in love with him as the days passed. She'd almost forgotten about her past until a reminder came knocking on her door.

“My lady, there’s a visitor here to see you.” She made her way to the door, curious as to who could possibly be visiting her. She stopped in her tracks when she saw her brother standing at the doorway, waiting for an invitation to come in. 

“Thomas,” she said in surprise.

“Hello, sister. May I come in?” She nodded, turning away from the door to lead him towards the drawing room. Unsure of what to say, she asked, “what brings you here, brother?” 

“I’ve just come to check on you, dear sister. How has married life been treating you?” 

She looked at him in suspicion, “it’s been well, thank you.” 

He looked at her expectantly, “And?” 

“I’m not sure what more there is to say, brother.” 

“It has been weeks since you’ve been married. Are you not with child yet, girl?” He said, his patience wearing thin.

She gaped at her brother, unsure of how to respond. As if by some miracle, she heard familiar footsteps coming in from the foyer. She sighed, grateful for the return of her husband. Anthony walked in, attention on removing his gloves when he looked up and staggered.

“Mr. Carrington?” 

Thomas rose from his seat, “Lord Bridgerton. How good it is to see you again.” 

Anthony nodded, lips set in a tight smile. 

“What brings you here, is everything alright?” He questioned, taking a seat next Annalise and resting a protective hand on her thigh.

“I came to check on my sister, Lord Bridgerton. I’d hoped to hear the happy news of becoming an uncle but alas, that is not the case. Perhaps, Annalise is not taking her role seriously” he said pointedly, looking at Annalise with disdain.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Carrington?” Anthony spat.

“I only mean to say Annalise requires a firm hand if she is to-”

Anthony held up his hand, stopping Thomas before he could finish. 

“You come into my home to insult my wife?” His voice hardened.

Thomas chuckled nervously, “she is my sister, Bridgerton.”

“Lord Bridgerton. She is no longer your concern, Mr. Carrington,” he said, every word dripping with anger as he stared Thomas down in disgust.

Thomas opened his mouth to defend himself but Anthony rose from his seat and crossed the room. He grabbed Thomas by the lapels. Annalise stood, afraid of Anthony’s sudden outburst.

“Has Annalise said something to you? She is a foolish girl, always looking for someone else to blame,” Thomas spit out.

“You are a pathetic excuse for a man, I’m ashamed to even be in the same room as you. Get the bloody hell out of my house before I decide to do to you what you did to that little girl who was under your care!” His voice bounced off the walls, Annalise flinched. She watched in awe as Anthony defended her. Finally, he let go of her brother, shoving him forward as he did. Without saying anything else, Thomas straightened his jacket and left. 

Anthony sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning back to Annalise. He walked towards her, wrapping his arms around her waist, when he saw the tears welled up in her eyes, he pulled her into his chest.

“Are you alright?” He mumbled into her hair.

She nodded, pulling back. She sniffled once, composing herself enough to give him a reassuring smile that said she was okay.

“Thank you,” she said. He leaned down to kiss her in response and when he pulled away, Annalise sighed, resting her head against her husband’s chest, grateful that she had not fled her fate. 

[shixcherie]

Hit After Hit | Jeong Yunho & Song Mingi.ft Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 18 : Just the tip

↬ [ Synopsis ] : As you're cooped up in stress while working on ATEEZ's title track, your bestie Wooyoung suggests a little game. Yunho and Mingi join in on the fun, helping to take your stress away while you cook up a banger title track for ATEEZ’s comeback.

☆Word Count : 3.8k ☆Genre : Smut, Ansgt, Idol Au. ☆Pairing : Idol! Yunho x Producer! F.Reader x Idol! Mingi ( alil bit of Wooyoung in the beginning)

☆☆☆WARNINGS : Smut, just the tip kink, angst, reader is stressed, work talks, Wooyoung the savior, neck kisses, edging, nipple paly, double penetration, praise, pet names(princess, doll, baby), unprotected sex ( wrap it up babies), Yunho and Mingi share you like a freaking baton rewarding you one after the other.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 18 to you. Since you guys really loved Damsel In Stress with Yunho and Mingi, I am here with another one for you. Our doll-princess duo are back. Hope you enjoy it ma chéries.

Today marked the worst day of your life. Literally!

After a messed-up coffee order, an extremely heated feedback session with Eden, and the worst creative block ever, all you wanted was to lock yourself in your room and sleep the night away. But, sadly, sleep was the last thing on your long checklist of things to fix in ATEEZ’s new comeback song, and considering that, sleep probably didn’t even exist on that list.

With Hongjoong busy handling other aspects, Eden had entrusted you with the title track this time, and you happily accepted it. Given your track record of producing amazing work in the past, this opportunity was well-deserved.

But being entrusted with ATEEZ’s title song is no easy responsibility, and Eden wasn’t an easy boss to impress. Your creative block had really killed the best of your skills, and everything was off about the piece you presented. Hence, the feedback was fair in every possible way.

With every passing second, your frustration only grew as you scrapped everything the moment you put it down. With a two-day deadline to come up with a completely new, 100% successful piece, the blank slate in front of you didn’t help, and a sob choked out of your lips.

“Fuck!” you screamed, burying your head between your hands as you tried desperately to come up with new beats that would match the track’s vibe.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slipped onto your shoulders, gently massaging, and you felt a calming presence behind you. Of your roommate, Wooyoung.His hands gently massaged your shoulders as he spoke softly, “You’re pushing yourself too hard again, aren’t you?”

You took a deep breath, leaning back in your chair. "I don’t have a choice, Woo. The deadline’s in two days, and nothing’s working. Everything sounds wrong."

He hummed, his hand gently brushing through your hair. "You’re just stuck in your head. Take a break, reset, and come back with fresh ears."

"I can’t," you muttered, biting your lip in frustration. "There’s no time."

Wooyoung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "There’s time for a little distraction. San and Yunho are coming over—movie night?" His voice was teasing but gentle.

You sighed. "I really shouldn’t, Woo—" Your mind felt too cluttered to even finish.

"Exactly why you should." He grinned, still massaging your shoulders. "Come on, we’ll make popcorn, watch something ridiculous, and you’ll feel better. Trust me."

You glanced at the screen, hesitation creeping in. "But the comeback... I can’t let the team down. Especially not with the title track."

Wooyoung paused, squeezing your shoulders. "You won’t. Eden trusts you, we trust you, and you should trust yourself too."

"But what if I mess it up? What if it’s not good enough?" you asked, doubt in your voice.

He smiled. "You’ve never let us down, even when you think you’re off. That’s why Eden gave you the title track. He knows you can do it, and so do I."

His words slowly eased the weight on your chest, and you exhaled.

“Look,” Wooyoung continued, “San , Mingi and Yunho will be here soon. We’ll watch something fun, reset, and tomorrow, you’ll crush it. I know you will.”

You chuckled softly. "Okay… but just for a little while."

Wooyoung lit up, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before eagerly pulling you up from the chair. "Let’s go!" he exclaimed, already dragging you toward the living room with excitement.

The movie truly turned out to be ridiculous. San passed out on the couch with his arm loosely draped over your shoulder, while Yunho and Mingi struggled to keep their eyes open on either side of you, and Wooyoung trying his hardest to endure the boring film. But the time away from the screen did clear your mind, a few fresh ideas began to emerge, and you weren’t feeling stuck anymore.

Carefully, getting your head off Woo’s shoulder and moving San’s hand off, you got up from between Wooyoung and Yunho, tiptoeing to your room.

Let’s finish this fucking piece already.

You felt motivated. But just for a while I guess as that motivation faded away into the night. Real soon.

As 30 minutes passed by, you found yourself back at square one, the blank slate laughing at you, mocking you through the screen. The fresh ideas you had turned out to be useless as you chewed on your lower lip in frustration.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the faint sound of your bedroom door opening and closing as three figures entered.

A tap on you shoulder had you jump out off your chair as Wooyoung, Yunho and Mingi stared at you. All three of them exchanged a knowing look between the three of them. Yunho was the first one to break silence, “Can we help you in anyway, pretty girl ?”

“I don’t know if even God could help me out of this fucking situation,” you cried, not literally. It was more like a cry for help as a pout formed on your lips. You needed something-anything- to focus, a gentle push in the right direction and distraction to take your mind of the looming deadline. That’s when Wooyoung chimed in with the most bizarre idea.

A year ago, when you joined KQ, you were one of ATEEZ's biggest fans, running a full-fledged fan page dedicated to them. Your life had taken a complete 180 when a mix of one of their songs caught Eden's attention, leading him to call you and offer you a small project. Two years later, you found yourself working on some of ATEEZ's biggest projects, becoming close friends with the boys and even sharing a flat with Wooyoung. It was a “just friends” vibe, filled with occasional flirting and playful touches, but nothing more… until now.

“We thought it might be fun to turn this into a little… game,” Wooyoung said, taking your laptop off the table and walked toward the bed. Your brow arched in curiosity as you glanced betwween Yunho and Mingi, who met your gaze with a smirk,their eyes shining with mischief. Yunho guided you to the bed, and Mingi followed behind you, a sleepy grin on his face.

Your mind was a mush of nervousness and excitement as you were excited as well to see where everything’s gonna go. Yunho freed himself of his clothes as he settled comfortably on the bed, tapping his lap invitingly. Wooyoung positioned himself to Yunho's right, while Mingi took his place on the left, creating a cozy but spicy atmosphere.

Confusion swirled within you, and although your mind urged you to stop, your body betrayed you. A shiver ran down your spine as Yunho’s hands began unbuttoning your night shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps whenever his fingertips playfully touched the front your chest.

“What’s running through your guys’ minds, huh?” you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and excitement, trying to shift off Yunho's lap. But he was quick to hold you in place, keeping you steady as Wooyoung knelt beside you, leaning in close as the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“We thought you could use a little thrust after every progress you make on the mix,” Wooyoung explained, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you won’t be fully rewarded until you finish the song. Just the tip, baby. Ok ?” His voice was low and teasing, his warm breath brushing against your lips.

His lips, so close to yours, were impossible to resist. Your gaze flicked to them, and without missing a beat, Wooyoung captured your mouth in a hot, wet kiss, his hand firm on your jaw as you eagerly reciprocated. The kiss was brief but intense, leaving you flushed and breathless as he pulled away.

With a smirk, Wooyoung wiped the corner of his mouth and said, “I’ll leave the big boys to take care of you. Fighting, babe. You can finish this.” His voice held a playful encouragement as he slipped off the bed, making his way toward the door.

“But Woo… won’t you stay?” you asked, your lips still tingling from the kiss, eyes wide with anticipation.

“I really want to babe..but there is a kitten in the living room waiting for me.” Wooyoung shot you a cheeky grin, refering to our sleepy kitten, San who had dozed off earlier and with that he ran out the room leaving you with the big boys.

Yunho at this point had fully freed you off you clothes, which you only realised after cold air brushed against your naked form. Both Yunho and Mingi fully naked, sprawled on the the bed with you in between along with your tiny laptop.

All of this was happening a lil too quickly for you to make sense of it.The whole situation felt surreal, like a dream.Anyhow, whatever gets you to finish up the song track, i guess.

You settled into the rhythm of the game, your heart racing as you got started on the brass section, the boys providing just the distraction you needed to refocus. Yunho’s warm breath on your neck, his hands resting on your waist, and his body pressed up against yours radiated comforting warmth. Mingi sat beside you, his eyes gleaming with mischief as his large hands rubbed your soft thighs, occasionally squeezing them.

“You’ve got this, princess,” Yunho murmured against your ear, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as his hands slid lower, teasingly close but not quite enough to stop you from working.

You focused on the laptop, your fingers moving over the keys as you adjusted the mix. The brass section slowly began to take shape, but every shift of Yunho’s hips beneath you sent a shiver up your spine. It was hard to stay grounded in the music, especially when his hands tightened around you while Mingi’s fingers worked magic on your thighs.

“Work hard, doll. Finish it while we take care of you,” Mingi’s deep voice rumbled through you, sending another wave of heat to your core. Only you knew the struggle of resisting the urge to toss the laptop aside and give in to them completely.

The moment you hit “save,” completing the brass section, Yunho’s lips curled into a smirk. His hands pulled you closer against him, and his hips lifted slightly.

“First thrust, princess. Ready?” he whispered, his voice a low tease. He gave you a single, slow thrust, not fully bottoming out, just enough to make your breath hitch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and your body instinctively arched into him as warmth spread through you. He held you close, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “That’s your reward, princess.”

After a moment, he pulled out completely, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of fullness. With a smirk, he handed you over to Mingi like a baton in a relay race, ready for the chorus section.

You moved over to Mingi’s lap, the switch smooth but leaving you feeling light-headed and NO!, its not just from the work. His large, warm hands settled possessively around your hips, adjusting you on top of him with a firm grip. Yunho moved to your side, still within reach, his fingers brushing your arm left goosebumps in their wake.

Mingi’s lips ghosted over your shoulder, kissing the tattoo behind it as you began working on the chorus. And just like how the chorus elevates a song, Mingi took things up a level, rubbing the tip of his long, thick cock against your slippery folds.

“This is torture, you know.” you muttered, eyes never leaving the screen, feeling Mingi smile against your shoulder. The friction between your cunt and his cock created a delicious rhythm, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Whatever keeps you working, princess,” Yunho teased, stealing a quick kiss that made you smile. His hand moved to Mingi's cock, applying just enough pressure to push the tip into your aching hole. You gasped audibly, blinking a couple of times, but Mingi pulled away before you could fully give in.

Mingi chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your back, sending shivers through you. Yunho’s teasing and encouraging touches kept you on the edge, but they somehow helped you wrap up the chorus section.

The boys hummed in unison, approving the direction the song was going, giving you hope that you might actually finish it.

As you saved the chorus section, Mingi rewarded you with his first proper thrust. His hips moved slowly and deliberately, though he didn’t bottom out, stretching you just enough to make you feel the burn.A moan finally escaped your lips as your walls welcomed him in, your fingers gripping the laptop. The mix was saved, but your focus shattered.

“You’re so perfect, doll. In every fucking way.” Mingi murmured, his deep voice like velvet in your ear. “This title track’s gonna be a banger.” he added, as Yunho nodded with a genuine smile.

If only you got this kind of encouragement for every single project.You’d be unstoppable.

Next, lets add the drums.

This time you ended up between both of them. As your worked on the next section, Yunho hands made way down south as he found you aching clit, pinching it which had your hands tremble on the keyword from the intense sensation. A low gasp left your lips, but your refocused.

Mingi’s hands wiped the sweat the trickled on your forehead which was kinda ironic given the air condition was at it lowest. Moving a few stands of hairs away from your face his hand found your tatoo again. Guess he had found a new love for it as his hands traced softly on the tatoo.

As you added beats after beats in the drums section, Yunho’s fingers also moved with intensity, matching the beats somehow. His fingers (add something here)

While Mingi’s attention stayed on your tatoo, his one hand busy tracing, his other hand found you boobs. Cupped the left one, he gently squeezed it as you shuddered at the sudden attention there. His long fingers pinched you nipples as the intensity matched with Yunho intense rubs on your dripping cunt but he did not enter you, yet.

Finally you finished the drums section and were ready to earn your rewards and the boys were eager to give. Your gazed flicked, trying to make a decision. Technically you should go with Yunho to play fair but Mingi attracted you equally. So you decided to go with both as you settle in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi on top of you. Their huge cocks, entered your both holes, stretching them deliciously as your toes curled, a loud moan escaped your lips while the two boys groaned. Not fully bottom out, just stretching you deliciously and after a while they pull out.

You sit up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensation you just experienced. You needed that more. And not just teasing you wanted them to fuck your properly.

Your eyes burned with fire as you dramatically stretched you hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up for once and all. The boys chuckled at your antics but were equally impressed as the song fiinally taking shape amazingly.

This time, you sat between both of them. As you worked on the next section, Yunho’s hands traveled down south, finding your aching clit. He pinched it gently, sending tremors through your body and causing your fingers to tremble on the keyboard from the intense sensation. A low moan escaped your lips, but you forced yourself to refocus.

Mingi’s hand brushed the sweat trickling down your forehead, which felt ironic given that the air conditioning was set to its lowest. He moved a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers tracing your tattoo once more. It seemed he had developed a newfound affection for it ashe softly traced the inky piece.

With each beat you added to the drum section, Yunho’s fingers moved with increasing intensity, matching the rhythm somehow. He pressed down firmly on your clit, his fingers dancing and teasing, heightening the sensations building within you.

While Mingi's attention remained on your tattoo, one hand tracing it gently, the other found your breast. He cupped your left one, squeezing it gently as you shuddered from the sudden attention. His long fingers pinched your nipple, the intensity aligning perfectly with Yunho's passionate rubs on your dripping cunt, but neither of his fingers fully entered you,yet.

Finally, you finished the drum section and were ready to earn your rewards, and the boys were eager to give.

Your gaze flicked back and forth, trying to make a decision. Technically, you should go with Yunho to play fair, but Mingi attracted you just as much.

So you chose both of them.

You settled in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi above. Their huge cocks entered both your holes, stretching you deliciously as your toes curled and a loud moan escaped your lips, ripping out groans from both the boys. They didn’t fully bottom out, just stretching you exquisitely, and after a while, they pulled out.

You sat up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensations you had just experienced. You craved more. Not just teasing, you wanted them the whole experience, you wanted them to fuck you properly.

Your eyes burned with determination as you dramatically stretched your hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up once and for all. The boys chuckled at your antics, but they were equally impressed as the song finally took shape beautifully. It had the Ateez vibe. Almost.

Lets go!

The second chorus part wrapped up in a swoosh as the boys exchanged amazed looks, seeing you fully in the zone. Your fingers quickly worked on the keyboard, layering and layering more and more, bringing the whole piece together. Everything was aligning perfectly as hope surged inside you; the piece turned out beautifully. You were fully confident now that Eden would be so proud and satisfied once he listened to this.

Wrapping up the chorus and adding final touches to the track, you looked at the boys, your eyes requesting them to keep working and finish it out. They both chuckled as they let you continue.

A smile adorned Mingi’s face, his eyes holding adoration for you and your determination. He remembered the first day he saw you in the KQ building when Eden brought you in, and now seeing your work on your title track made him so happy. He had always found you cute and wondered if you were single or not.

Yunho’s mind also ran a reel of memories where you celebrated with them after every one of their comebacks. Your smile had imprinted in his mind, and your laughter rang in his ears. How amazing those times were, he thought, as he eagerly waited for this comeback to become a banger so you could join them again.

“Done!!!” you shouted, your hands up in the air. Your scream pulled them out of their thoughts. “Wanna listen?” you asked, eagerly waiting for them to say yes.

After they finished listening, they were truly in awe of how your little head could come up with such amazing stuff and also proud that you could bang out the whole track in one single night.

“Now shall we return to what we left unfinished?” Yunho asked, his eyes playfully narrowed at you, awaiting your approval. You nodded eagerly.

With that, not wasting a single second, Mingi captured your lips.

Mingi’s lips were warm against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You melted into the kiss, feeling the weight of the night’s hard work slip away as the tension in the air shifted to something much more intimate. His big hands held your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer. You could feel Yunho’s gaze on you, a mix of hunger and amusement in his eyes as he watched the two of you.

“Careful there, Mingi,” Yunho teased, his voice a low growl. “Don’t make her forget all the hard work she just did.”

Mingi chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and making you smile. “Oh, I think she’ll remember, especially when I’m done with her.”

Breaking the kiss, Mingi leaned back slightly to meet your eyes, “You ready for round two?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “More than ready,” you admitted, glancing at Yunho, who looked like he was holding back a smile.

“That’s like my pretty doll.” he said, moving closer.

With that, Mingi shifted you to the side, allowing Yunho to slide behind you. You settled back against him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. His hands found your waist, guiding you as he leaned in to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Mingi wasted no time as he gave his cock a few storkes before he lined himself against your dripping entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, stretching your delicoulsy again and he leaned in to capture your lips again. Yunho’s hands guided your hips to his throbbing cock, gently lining himself at your asshole he filled you in as well.

“Let’s see how well you can multitask with both of us filling you, princess.” Yunho whispered against your ear, his breath warm and inviting.

With Mingi's steady thrusts and Yunho's rhythmic movements, you felt the world around you begin to fade away. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body caught in a delicious rhythm between the two of them. Mingi's kisses grew more intense, igniting a fire within you, while Yunho's fingers gripped your waist, guiding you to meet their thrusts as you became lost in the sensations.

“You are taking us so well, doll,” Mingi murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as pleasure built within you, the tension in your core tightening with each thrust and all the teasing you had endured the whole night. Yunho's voice in your ear only intensified the pleasure. “Come for us, princess. You deserve it after that whole night of work.”

The way they filled you was intoxicating, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the warmth pooling deep inside you, a sweet release that was just within reach.

With every thrust, every kiss, every word that left their lips you were pushed closer to the edge, making your heart race.

Finally, with a few more deep thrusts and the sound of Mingi's low growls mingling with Yunho's soft whispers, the tension inside you snapped. You cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless.

“I’m—oh my god,Ugh this feels heavenly.” you gasped, the world filled with bliss as you felt them both gently pull out of you, as they found their own release and covered you stomach and back with white ribbons of hot cum.

As you recovered from the release, Wooyoung barged in, his hair and face a mess, proof of the wild night he had with San in the living room. His eyes were already closed, as if he assumed you’d be in some intimate position. “Want an early morning snack, guys?” he asked. Your eyes flicked to the clock, it was 5 AM in the morning.

Wow! That was a long-ass session.

“Yes, please. I am starving,” you replied dramatically, earning a chuckle from both Yunho and Mingi as you all dressed and made your way outside the room to the kitchen.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of Eden, your heart racing as you handed over the final piece. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his expression unreadable while he listened carefully.

Finally, as the track came to an end, Eden leaned back in his chair, a small but approving smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “This is solid work. This will be on the album for sure.” he said, his voice carrying the praise you had been waiting for. And just like that, relief and pride washed over you. All the hard work, the sleepless night, it was worth it.

You couldn’t help but grin, the weight of the project finally lifting off your shoulders.

Gotta thank Wooyoungie and the boys for being such good focus buddies.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[hederasgarden]

Something Better

Summary: A chance encounter with your academic rival reminds you there's more to life than looks. Pairing: Scott Miller (Twisters) x F!Plus Size!Reader Word Count: 1.4K  Rating: Mature, 18+ only. College AU. Light angst, body insecurity, heavy petting and kissing.  A/N: For my dearest @clairewritesandrambles based on this ask. Thank you @ryebecca for the beta. Turns out I'm terrible at sticking to the 100 word prompts. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ David Corenswet Characters Masterlist

It’s a struggle to escape the press of bodies on the dance floor, the pounding bass thrumming uncomfortably in your chest. You wipe angrily at your face, jaw clenched as you fight to keep the tears at bay. No one seems to notice — everyone is too drunk or high. You could find your friends, but beneath the desire for comfort is the sharp, burning sting of shame. 

You should have known better than to trust Tyler Owens. 

All those sweet words and flirtatious smiles were meaningless to him. In the end, you were just another notch in his belt and the worst part is, that you have no one to blame but yourself. Everyone knew he wasn’t the type for commitment, but you were blinded by his charm and the way his deep green eyes made you feel beautiful. He said you were special and you were just stupid enough to believe him.

Escaping into the cool night air brings you a brief moment of relief. You close your eyes and tilt your head back. 

"Where’s the cowboy?"

The unexpected voice makes you flinch. You don’t need to turn around to know who it is. Only one person ever called Tyler Owens a cowboy.

"Not now, Scott." 

Usually, you didn’t mind going toe-to-toe with him, enjoying the opportunity to match wits with someone as sharp as Scott. Tonight, though, you’re exhausted, and he’s the last person you want to show any weakness to. In class, he was quick to exploit any hint of vulnerability in an opponent.

"Is that all you’ve got?" he taunts. "Spending time with Owens must have really lowered your IQ."

You bite your tongue, curling your hand into a fist. You can’t handle this right now. You can't handle him.

"Just...go away." Despite your best efforts, your voice betrays how you feel — strained and fragile.

He doesn’t listen, of course, the gravel crunching under his feet as he approaches. Your shoulders slump, and a fresh wave of tears escapes. You stare at the ground and wait for the cutting remark Scott's sure to deliver when he sees you like this. When nothing comes, you hesitantly look up, meeting his cool blue gaze. You’re surprised to see a soft furrow between his brows. He almost looks…concerned.

"You're crying." 

It's such an obvious statement from him that you laugh, but it comes out more as a sob and you press the back of your hand to your mouth. Scott steps forward, making an abortive gesture like he means to touch you but thought better of it. He looks past you, the soft curve of his lips tightening into a sharp, displeased line. Then his gaze cuts back to you. 

"Did Tyler do something?" He asks. 

You shake your head. The truth is, you hurt yourself by thinking someone like Tyler would ever want to date you. Why would he, when he had Kate Carter on his arm? She looked beautiful tonight, her honey blond hair curling softly around her delicate features. She was slender and striking in a way you'd never be. She’d be easy to hate if she wasn't so kind and smart.

"He did something," Scott presses.

Just then, the door swings open, and a group of people spills out into the night. A few of them look over, and you’re quick to turn away, hunching your shoulders in embarrassment. It’s bad enough that Scott saw you like this; you don’t need anyone else witnessing it.

Beside you, Scott lets out a sharp huff, his breath escaping through his nose in a rush. Without a word, he grabs you, his long fingers wrapping firmly around your bicep. He pulls you effortlessly to the side of the building, out of view. 

“Sometime happened. You never shut up, and now you’re just…” He trails off, using his free hand to gesture irritably.

You shrug out of his hold and wrap an arm around your middle. You try to steady your voice, but it quivers when you whisper, "It's nothing."  

“Oh, I see,” he responds coolly. “You think you’re better than everyone now because you’re dating the star football player.”

Scott’s accusation is so far off the mark it’s almost laughable, and on any other day, you’d relish the chance to set him straight. But right now, all you want is to disappear.

“Typical,” he mutters. 

A sudden burst of anger flares under your ribcage and you surge forward, jabbing a finger hard into his chest. You’re so close your body brushes his but you don’t care. 

“You want to know what happened?” you ask. “We slept together, but the second someone skinnier and prettier showed up, he acted like I didn’t even exist. And honestly, I can’t even blame him," you continue with a bitter laugh. "Just look at Kate Carter.”

As soon as the words are out of your mouth and you realize what you’ve just admitted, you shrink back against the brick wall, feeling exposed. Scott rolls his eyes, and you tense up, bracing yourself for whatever he is about to say. 

"Kate Carter isn't as smart as us," he says dismissively. "She's a fucking bio major. You think she even took differential equations?”

Of course he didn’t get it. People like Scott and Tyler moved through the world differently than you. “No one’s looking at her transcript  She’s beautiful.”

“Yeah, and so are you.”

You freeze and the unexpected compliment hangs in the air between you as you search his expression for any trace of sarcasm. Scott stares steadily back at you and something in your stomach flutters to life, sweeping up your chest in a hot rush. 

“Scott…”

“Don’t make this a thing,” he says quietly, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “It’s not a thing.”

He dips his head and then suddenly, he’s kissing you, those soft, plump lips of his sliding against yours almost sweetly. You clutch the front of his sweater, tilting your head back until your nose brushes against his. A quiet moan builds at the back of your throat and Scott surges forward, caging you in between his body and the wall. The rough brick catches against the soft skin of your shoulder but you don’t care, not with the way he’s kissing you.

“Gonna let me in?” he whispers.

Without hesitation, you part your lips, welcoming him into the wet heat of your mouth. He groans in response, grasping your hips. He kisses just like he argues with you in the classroom — relentless in his pursuit, overwhelming you in the best way possible until you yield. This time you want him to win, but you can’t resist trying to outdo him. You draw his lower lip between your teeth and bite down until he grunts.

“Fuck,” he pants, his hands sweeping up and down your sides. 

You cant your hips forward and he grabs the back of your thigh, grinding into you.

“I’m going to take you home,” he promises, mouthing at the side of your neck. "Then I’m going to fuck you until you forget that asshole's name.”

You shudder, freeing one of your hands trapped between your bodies and burying it in his thick black curls. A light tug has him nipping at the soft skin of your throat. Everything about him feels so good. It would be easy to lose yourself to this, to him, but you pull back, blinking away the haze of lust. You refuse to repeat your mistake with Tyler. 

“What happens after?” You ask him, breathless. 

Scott blinks, running his tongue over his swollen bottom lip. “After?”

“After we, you know….” That little shadow appears between his brows again. You shift uncomfortably, drawing back. “With Tyler…after, he—”

“We date,” Scott interrupts.

Maybe it’s the kiss or the whirlwind of emotions you’ve experienced tonight, but for the first time, you're at a loss for words with Scott.

“Date?” You repeat dumbly.

“Yes.” He says it like it’s the most obvious thing. “Do you require the definition of the word?” He looks half annoyed now, staring down his nose at you. “If you can’t keep up, I’m not sure we can do this.”

“Do what?” 

“Date,” he replies tersely. “You know, you’re killing the mood here.”

“Well,” you sputter, “it’s not my fault you’re a poor communicator.”

Scott rolls his eyes. “This was better when we weren’t talking.”

“Agreed,” you fire back.

“So it’s settled.”

When you nod, Scott grasps your hand and tugs you forward. His long legs make it difficult to keep up but after a few seconds, he seems to notice and adjusts his pace to match yours. He casts a brief glance at you and you see a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if his lips were about to part but he thought better of it. 

“What?” You ask, amused.

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

“Okay,” you agree. “Just as long as you’re not making this a thing.”

Scott lets out a small, exasperated sigh and turns away, but not before you catch the smile tugging at his lips.

Send me a request

[daylite-writes]

A Healer’s Blunt Teeth - Yan!Capitano x Healer!Reader

(Pt 2 here)

In your homeland, the nation of war, healers are highly valued, highly sought after. This, however, does not grant them autonomy. Traded, won, and bought. That has been your life thus far. Now though, you’ve fallen into the possession of a man you know will never lose a battle.

cw: societal-typical captivity, Yandere-esc behavior, background death, non consensual touching/kissing, sharing a bed (romantic, but not sexual), consensual relationship, brief use of the word ‘master’ until Capitano shuts that down, time skip.

2.8k words

~~~

The sun was relentless, on the battlefield. Glaring down from the horizon, it was blindingly bright. It’s heat was so palpable it warped the rocky terrain around you. Your face, back, legs, all were drenched in sweat. But that wasn’t the worst of it.

The worst part was the smell of the fallen bandits cooking under it.

You choked back a sob as another waft of the scent passed you. Rotting, seared. The battle was over, but didn’t dare to move from the spot behind a jagged rock you’d taken. Quietly, you cursed to yourself, “stupid, fucking—stupid. Gods, archons, fucking, idiotic—”

Idiotic team leader, idiotic fucking team. The scouts were supposed to make sure backup wasn’t within range, the talkers were supposed to intimidate them into to fork over their supplies, and the front liners were supposed to not fucking die should a altercation begin.

Apparently none of them did their job, because the moment swords were drawn, one of them sent a signal to a larger group of Fatui a ways back—the moment their backup arrived marked the start of the bloodshed.

They cut through your group with far too much ease. Trained. You didn’t dare peek out from your hiding place, but you listened to the ‘shirk, shirk, shirk’ as each bandit was double-tapped.

You bit your bottom lip hard, hard enough to draw blood, as footstepped creeped closer.

As a healer, you’d never been afraid of defeat. Even ones that had the entirety of the group you were with dead. But those defeats came at the hands of other Natlan people. Those were people who would spare the healer, finding better uses for you than death. The Fatui? No such promise. Surely they had their own, and in turn, you held no use.

The air was tense, silent, except for your stifled breathing and the click of the rifle as you struggled to load it. You swore internally, fumbling with the damned thing, before you heard a click.

You froze. The click was not from your gun.

“Drop it.” The Fatuus barked. You did so, weapon clattering on the ground, raising your hands in surrender, you kept your head dipped low. Unsteady breaths spilled from your lips.

“Please.” You begged, you weren’t a threat, you prayed they knew that.

One grabbed you, roughly, forcing you to stumble along as you were dragged into the blood smeared slaughter grounds. The sun, glaring in your eyes, made it hard to see. Eventually, the Fatuus shoved you, making you fall to yours knees—which sunk a little into the blood soaked mud under me.

The Fatuus said something, which you didn’t hear between your heavy breathing and rapid heartbeat pounding in your ears. It wasn’t for you—too formal and professional. You lifted your head—

The largest man you’d ever seen. Well, probably a man. Towering, with a helmet that looked like a shark’s metal maw shrouding his face in darkness. The blood pounding in your ears intensified. He was looking at you—he was looking at you—

You dropped your head down immediately, terrified of the man you’d been tossed before. Their leader, undoubtedly. It was a short lived reprice from his fearsome figure, as he soon grabbed your chin, dragging you to your feet and forcing your eyes to meet his void—

“You aren’t a bandit. You’re too scrawny, not toned, and you can’t load a rifle. You are for some sort of utility.” He tilted his head to look down over your body, before his eyes locked onto yours again. “Am I correct?”

“Y-yes—yes sir.” Your chest shook with every heavy breath. “I-I’m their healer.”

“Hm.” He said simply. The hand clasped around your throat and jaw twisted slightly, moving your head and body as he pleased. You let slip a sharp whimper, but didn’t dare say a word. He looked over you, appraising you like one would a horse or a fine good. Trying to determine your value.

“In the Natlan wilds, healers are usually bought, traded around between groups.” He lifted your head a little higher exposing your neck. What was he looking for? “Or taken, when a group died to another. Just one thing from which a victor is entitled to take. Hm. I wonder where you’ve been, healer.”

Too many places. From the moment you showed an innate ability for healing. Traded, won, bought off, defected to. Your knees threatened to buckle beneath you as you met his eyes.

His mask hid all but the slightest trace of blue eyes and a sharp, but you swore you could see the glint of sharp teeth as he dropped out, letting you collapse onto your knees in the dirt.

He turned to his soldiers, with a booming voice yelled; “Kill any left alive, take all supplies of theirs you find.”

Then, he turned back to you, voice quieter, but pleased. You hadn’t moved an inch from where he dropped you.

“What do you think of the cold?”

~~~

Capitano was your new boss. Not the Fatui—Capitano specifically.

You stayed in his tent during the day, and slept in the corner at night. It wasn’t like you were told to sit there, but you’d rather not risk punishment for asking for a bed. You weren’t sure how cruel the Fatui were, how cruel he was.

Besides, it was familiar. Sleeping at the foot of your latest warlord. A decoration when you were not working. Like a fancy vase, or an exotic fur blanket.

He came back to the tent one night, the troops reeling from a small battle. You didn’t know what against, only that he took a seat on the side of his bed, undoing his armor, and turning to you, silently beckoning. You approached, sitting beside him on the bed, beginning to heal his wounds.

You wondered how many had seen under the armor. He was strong, toned, and monstrous. Scars etched out of his back held veiny black scars that had to be from the void, his teeth, at times, seemed shinier than his blades and twice as sharp. His eyes…

Oh his eyes.

There was nothing wrong with them. Not visually, but…

You shuddered as you felt them on you again, your muscles threatening to lock up. Heal, right, you needed to heal him. Don’t disobey, don’t refuse, don’t show fear.

“Calm down.” He commanded, and you suddenly realized how your limbs were shaking.

“Apologies, master.” You took a small breath, forcing your hands to move steadier across his ribs. A gash, probably from some rifthounds. They’d been hunting the abyss deeper into the mountains.

“Hm.” He said simply.

He never showed any pain as you fixed him, despite healing—against most people’s assumptions—being no pleasurable experience. You wondered if he even staggered when the beast cut through flesh. You wondered how many he killed before one landed the lucky shot.

Scars faded, having curled up into themselves until they dissapeared, you pulled your hands back. You were on his bed, on your knees as he sat on the edge, legs planted on the floor. You were practically under his arm, in order to gain access to his ribs, but you didn’t move away, and wouldn’t. Not until he dissmissed you.

“Done?” He asked, voice even. Gods, did he even feel any of it?

“Yes, master.”

“Good.” He inclined his head slightly. A thanks. You, nervously, lips parted slightly, looked up to him, taking a second to glance at his maskless face. Was… was he going to dismiss you, or?

He met your gaze, and this time you could not stop your limbs from locking up. You felt like a rabbit, with the eyes of a wolf locked onto you.

He lifted a hand, his fingertips abyssal, dipped in black ink. Gently, he cupped your cheek. The little gasp you gave was one of fear, but he didn’t seem to mind.

Once again, he considered you, tilting and moving your head as he liked. “You’ve done well.”

If you could speak, you’d thank him. Call him master as the others you’ve served prefer, maybe bow your head. But no. Something in you, needed desperately, to remain very, very, still.

“You’ve served me well, for weeks, now. Not a whisper of what I look like among my men, not a peep of disobeyal from you. You haven’t so much as asked for a bed. I must wonder what has happened for you to be so… tamed.”

You said nothing.

“I think I could take you to the most beautiful place in Teyvat, and you wouldn’t dare ask to step outside my tent, instead awaiting my own permission. Hm.”

He tilted you head to the side, exposing your neck. This time, you began to shake. You’ve seen his teeth at times, they could tear your head free from your body—

“Captain?” You pleaded.

“Shhh. I’m not hurting you.” He whispered, you felt it more than you heard it, his hot breath across your skin. “Remain good and you can sleep in my bed tonight.”

He… kissed you. Your brain almost short circuited when his lips dipped down to your neck. It was gentle, even when sharp canines nicked your skin.

Slowly, your body relaxed, and he pulled you closer, he kissed your neck, like a lover. A reverent one. Before you knew it, you were sitting on his thigh, whimpering as he placed a hickey high on your neck, one not able to be hidden. Between your beating heart and his… affection, he stopped for mere moments, not to breath or take respite, but instead to murmur soft nothings, “good,” “thank you,” “my healer,”, before he planted another kiss somewhere new.

His attention continued on for far too long, you weren’t sure what to do with yourself, or where this was going.

“Master…” you said, panting, it took everything in you to not bury your head in his shoulder and bite your lip. You felt deeply embarrassed. This wasn’t the first time a member of the people you’d been claimed by paid… special attention to you. But it was

“Captain. You will call me captain.”

“Captain.” You forced out, softly. “Can…”

He waited, not kissing your skin as you figured out how to work your tongue. It would better, right? To be with him than against. A healer alone is doomed. You thought for a moment, before quietly speaking.

“Can I kiss you too?”

“Yes.” He growled out, far too fast. A little aggressive, but, okay—you lowered your head, planting your own kiss on his neck, as gently as you could.

He groaned a bit, the vibrations of it tangible against your lips. “Bite down.”

For a moment, your brain short circuited. What?

“Bite.”

Well then. Slowly, nervously, you sank your teeth into his skin.

His hand cupped the back of your head—archons you swore there were claws on them—and pressed your head a bit further down, forcing you to bite down harder.

The sound that forced its way from his throat was guttural, not quite a growl, but deeply animalistic and satisfied.

“Good… healer. Good.” He huffed out. The hand left the back of your head, and you took that as permission to release the crux of his neck from your teeth.

You couldn’t help but be shocked at the sight you left. A perfect set of teeth marks against his neck, little beads of blood dotting it. If you hadn’t seen it yourself a few times, you wouldn’t be sure he could bleed. At least, bleed red. He held himself like a god among men, and his soldiers seemed to put him on a similar pedistool.

Your mind circled back to his previous praise. Good. You did well, he was happy with you. You wondered if you would be allowed to sleep in his bed tonight. You wondered if he’d let you refuse.

Realizing he’d been silent for a time, you glanced at him, cold, icy eyes glittering behind lax eyelids. He was watching you.

Your chest was heaving despite the little effort it took, but his breathing was strangely calm, rhythmic.

You felt a hand run through your hair, you closed your eyes and bit your lip.

“It’s late. Sleep in my bed, should you like.” He said simply, and you opened your eyes. His hand was still in your hair, and you’d never felt so calm in his presence.

“Alright.” You spoke, the sound barely a breath.

You slept in his bed that night, his arm around your midsection. You felt like the woman in a painting with a name you forgot. She lounged within a lion's den, resting her head against one’s chest, sleeping beside an apex predator.

~~~

Capitano’s time in Natlan was coming to a close. And in turn, yours was as well.

You laid lazily on the strategy table, your head and chest slumped forward into your arms. Under you, a map of Teyvat, with various pins and marks. The path home. Capitano had been pouring over it even after his generals left, marking it every once in a while, or muttering to himself. You’d been waiting for him to finish for hours now.

For all his animalisticicity, his libido was strangely low. Even after months of his physical attention—kisses, bites, sharing a bed—it took you initiating for him to grant you anything. You were happy for this, you supposed. But it did make him difficult to manipulate, unlike many other men who’d oblige after you puffed out your cleavage and bit your lip.

So, you had to resort to other methods.

“Captain… I’m tired.”

“Sleep then. I’ll carry you back when I finish.” He didn’t look at you.

“At the table? Darling…”

“You were the one that wanted to come to this meeting.”

“Yes, the meeting. Not the… what is this? Were the plans your generals made not sufficient?”

“I’m merely going over them again.”

“Alright.” You weren’t getting what you wanted. Not yet. “Perhaps I should walk back to the tent.”

His body shifted slightly, an action that on him, was like the moving of glaciers, heavy and lumbering. “You stay by me.”

It was a reminder, a weighty one. You did not have to be his lover, but you were his healer, taken by right of combat. The only right that mattered in Natlan. He held dominion over you either way.

You did not have to be his lover, but god was life easier that way.

“Sorry.” You sunk back into your arms, feigning just enough sadness and remorse to make him uncomfortable, even if he was visibly still as a mountain.

“You know you are not allowed to move through the camp alone.”

“I do. I just forgot, the last few chieftains I served didn’t bother overseeing my location or sleeping arrangements.” You lied. They did. Very closely in fact. You were a goddamn healer by blood, very expensive in the country of war. You slept at their feet or in their beds, sometimes in chains. But such facts did not serve you in that moment. “This… supervision is new to me.”

He sighed, setting down his quill. “I suppose this is done. We can return to the tent.” He moved around the table, coming up behind your chair before sweeping you into his arms. Hook. Line. Sinker.

“My legs function, Capitano. I assure you.”

“They did not seem to this morning.”

“I’m a healer, I can deal with some strained muscles.” You bantered back.

“Oh, so me bringing you breakfast was simply a ploy of yours?”

“Of course it was, surely you realized.” You grinned into his shoulder, taunting. “And healing takes time, imagine what the soldiers would say seeing me struggle to walk, coming out from your tent?”

“Hm.”

“Anyways, I said I could walk.”

“I wonder, do you ever accept the fact you may not get what you want? Or must you claw at me until I indulge you?”

“With walking?” You grinned, finding a stance you could sink your teeth into. “Are you afraid I may run?”

“Do you think you could escape?” Capitano met your question with one of his own.

You hummed, eyes closed with a soft smile, not bothering to indulge him until he answered you first.

Your eyes shot open as the warm metal of his gauntlet tilted your head up by the chin. He looked over your neck, scarred with the symbols of his love, and gave a content, “Hm. No.”

You rolled your eyes, a little insulted. “I could escape if I liked.”

“Of course, my healer.”

You pouted as he let go of you, your face falling down into his shoulder again.

“Fear not though, my healer.” His voice had a rasping, growling edge to it, making your body shiver in the Natlan heat. “There will never be anything to run from.”

~~~~~

Just a little thing! Hope y’all liked it <3

[my-castles-crumbling]

love confessions - @wolfstarmicrofic - word count: 273

He knew that it was a bad idea, to sneak to the Hospital, especially after having almost been caught by Mrs. Norris earlier. But he had to see with his own eyes that Remus was okay.

When he walked into the deserted room, he hurried to the bed that Remus always occupied, spying Remus's sleeping form in the dim light of the dawn. He was turned on his side, and Sirius approached his back, placing one shaking hand on his shoulder, waiting to feel movement. A signal of life.

After one horrifyingly still moment, he felt the taller boy's shoulder move, and Sirius let out a quiet sob, relief flooding through him. "Merlin, Moony," he whispered to the sleeping boy. "You can't scare me like that."

Of course, Remus didn't respond. But Sirius still stared at his back, tears streaming.

"Prongs says I'm being stupid," he sniffed, feeling a bit stupid as he talked to, essentially, himself. "But I just. I had to know, you know? That you were okay. That was the worst I've seen you in a while and-" he broke off, stifling a sob, "fuck, I might as well say, yeah? I love you, Remus." he chuckled through thick tears. "Like. Properly. And if anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do." He stopped talking, contemplating a life without Remus. It sounded like actual hell.

"Well, I should go before Pomfrey finds me," he murmured, removing the hand on Remus's shoulder. "Glad you're alright. Just...never leave me, alright?"

And with that, he turned and left, completely unaware that Remus's eyes had been open the entire time.

[egcdeath]

out in the open

pairing: patrick zweig x f!reader

summary: your wedding night doesn’t go as smoothly as you expect it to. succession au - tomshiv adjacent (previous parts: part 1, part 2, part 3)

word count: 8.8k

warnings: failmarriage, fluff in the beginning, cheating, angst, jealousy, hurt/comfort, mentions of alcohol and smoking, suggestive content, insecurity, patrick is kinda the worst in this. he does get better though.

author’s note: full disclaimer things are pretty angsty and they only get angstier from here. cheating is a major plot point from this point forward. there will be a few happier moments but it’s mostly bad vibes and tension from this point on.

i say this with every fic i post in this universe but i truly could not have written this without the help of my succession anon!! weddingnightgate (WNG) is such a big moment in this au and they really helped me get my thoughts in order and helped me world build. i hope you all enjoy the upcoming pain!

When you were young, you always dreamed about your wedding. You fantasized about a huge venue somewhere halfway around the world that would easily fit all of your closest friends and family members and of celebrity guests who would give you well wishes for the marriage and smiled at you in spite of their envy at your beautiful event. You imagined a gorgeous, intricate dress with a train so long that you’d need assistance going down the aisle, a cake the size of your tallest guest, and a groom who was as handsome as he was loving, pressing the promise of True Love’s Kiss onto your lips after he read you his vows.

Maybe your enthusiasm for weddings was fueled by a few too many movies where the princess found her prince charming and lived happily ever after with him, but you still fell in love with the idea of love, and the thought that a wedding should be as beautiful as the love itself was.

You would never forget the first wedding you attended, despite being so young that you shouldn’t have really recalled it. You somehow managed to worm your way into being the flower girl at your aunt’s wedding, skipping excitedly down the aisle of the beachside venue, tossing flowers with reckless abandon. As you watched the rest of the ceremony from the safety of your mother’s hip, you couldn’t help but to imagine yourself being the one to walk down the aisle someday. 

Much like your first wedding memory, you also couldn’t forget the first time you learned about divorce. Though you were young, the memory of your best friend crying next to you during recess as she sobbed out the news that her parents were splitting forever stuck out in your mind. You’d been fed the idea that love was strong and everlasting for so long, that the very notion that there were some things that love couldn’t withstand rocked you to your core. 

From that point on, you became more grounded in your approach to love. Love was rarely a fairytale, and it was naive for you to assume that your future wedding would be one either. 

As the years went by, you grew more realistic about your expectations for the future. You found a boyfriend who you dated throughout the latter half of your undergraduate years and through your time in business school, and fully expected to settle down with him—though you knew you’d be settling in the most literal sense. While he was a stable figure in your life, he was boring, and his aspirations in life for both you and himself didn’t align at all with what you saw yourself doing. He wanted a wife, and you wanted to make a name for yourself doing the work that was meaningful to you.

When he got down on one knee in front of you, you realized that you had two options in front of you: follow your own dreams or follow his. 

Naivety be damned, you chose yourself and never looked back. 

In your pursuit of making your non-love related aspirations come true, you abandoned all hope that your pipe-dream of a fantasy wedding would ever come to fruition. It occasionally felt like your hopes were incompatible—to be a successful businesswoman meant giving up all prospects of a romantic life. It seemed like everyone you encountered was put off by your lack of work-life balance, or wanted to hunt you for sport and turn you into a trophy wife. 

You’d practically given up all hope by the time you met Patrick, fully expecting to be able to use him for a brief fling and a connection to get into his family’s company. What you weren’t expecting was to find someone whose company you genuinely enjoyed, who understood you on a level you hadn’t experienced with anyone else, and a love that occasionally left you wondering if you were a protagonist in the movies you loved watching as a girl. 

If someone told you that years after meeting Patrick, that one day you would be gazing into his eyes with tears in yours as you listened to his vows, or telling him that you do take him to be your husband, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, ‘till death did you two part.

Your wedding ceremony felt straight out of your girlish dreams, with Patrick’s beautiful family castle serving as the venue, paparazzi-worthy guests, a dress that felt like a direct product of your wildest imagination, and a groom that seemed to be as close to a prince charming as reality could get. 

You were on cloud nine throughout the ceremony, basking in every single moment. You felt like you were floating by the time you got to the reception, your brain in the clouds as you and your now-husband cut your massive cake and gave toasts. 

It was all a blur in the best way possible, your elation making what you thought might be an embarrassing moment of a first dance exciting, and the subsequent socializing with guests substantially more bearable. 

What was slightly less bearable was the speed at which you were separated from your husband, the two of you occasionally catching the others eye from across the room, but otherwise being separated from surprisingly demanding guests who wanted to wish you luck on your marriage or excitedly share how amazing they found the ceremony to be. 

Occasionally, you were able to squeeze in a brief moment with your spouse, bringing him a flute of champagne and momentarily pulling him away from an exceptionally chatty shareholder, but you seemed to be frequently whisked away from each other. 

After what felt like a lifetime apart from each other, you felt the familiar, comforting warmth of Patrick’s hand on your lower back as he approached you from behind. When he announced to the extended family members standing across from you that he needed a moment alone with you, you almost leapt with joy. Nothing seemed more appealing than a private conversation with him after a long night of socializing with friends and colleagues. 

It almost felt ironic that during an event that should’ve been focused on the two of you as a pair, you were separated and kept apart by people with business pitches and opposing interests, excited to hop onto whatever opportunity your union might bring them. 

Patrick took you by surprise as he led you up the stairs and to your bedroom. It seemed a little early to begin your wedding night festivities, but if he was really that enthusiastic about it, you were certain that you could share some of his excitement. 

“Thanks for getting us out of there,” you commented as you shut the door behind you. “So much for not talking about work at the wedding. I guess it’s too much to ask for one day to celebrate you being my husband before talking about the business again.”

You walked over to the vanity, preparing to touch up your makeup. You shot a glance over at your partner, who cautiously sat himself down on your bed, fidgeting with his hands as he did so. Not paying him any mind, you began to reapply your lipstick in the mirror and looked at his reflection, catching that he seemed to be in deep thought, but not thinking too much of it. It was probably something a shareholder told him. Maybe his sister was planning yet another attempt at a hostile takeover of the business. 

“Husband. Wow, you’re my husband now. That feels so crazy to say. Husband, husband, husband,” you mused, a ball of excited energy.  “Well, husband, what did you pull me in to talk about? Is it Sherry’s dress? It’s really hideous. I can’t believe she would wear something like that to our wedding,” you continued to ramble. “Or do you want a sneak peak of what I’ve got going on under this dress?”

You were shocked to find Patrick mostly unresponsive to your rapid words. He was never one to turn down the opportunity to gossip about his social circle or flirt with you. You pulled your attention away from yourself in the mirror and turned your head back to look at your husband, only to be met with a mostly unreadable expression, apart from the hint of a sad smile on his face. 

Suddenly, things didn’t feel so fun. For some unexplained reason, you felt a small pit appear in the depths of your stomach. While you didn’t know exactly what was wrong, something obviously didn’t feel right. There was no reason for your partner to be looking as unsettled as he did on his own wedding night. 

“You’re not having second thoughts already, are you?” you stood up and began to approach him from where he was sitting on the bed, making it more apparent to you that his brows were drawn together in what could only be the beginning of a frown. 

“Of course not,” he assured you, though guilt was written all over his face. You weren’t sure how you should interpret your husband looking like a child who just broke an expensive vase on your wedding night, but whatever it was, it couldn’t be good. “But I need to tell you something.”

“What?” you laughed nervously, the small pit that appeared in your stomach growing into a slightly larger pit. As much as you wanted to dismiss it as nothing, the heavy tension hanging in the air warned you that the odds of his confession being nothing were growing slimmer and slimmer with each passing moment.  

“Uh,” he paused as if he was considering his next words very carefully—almost as if he didn’t want to say them at all. You desperately wanted him to speak, rather than keep you hanging. With your nerves exponentially growing with every passing second, you began to feel like if he didn’t say anything soon, you might throw up all over your reception dress.  

“Patrick, please spit it out. You’re kinda scaring me,” you could already feel yourself growing upset, despite the fact that he hadn’t said a single word to indicate what was going on with him. Your heart quickened in your chest as you anticipated his next words, despite not having a clue about what might come out of his mouth.  

“We always said that if something happened, we could handle it like adults,” the statement was vague and simple, yet Patrick seemed to be choking it out. His cryptic message rattled around in your brain as you desperately searched for meaning in them. Before you could even begin to ask him what he meant, you registered the dismissive, callous language. 

Though he didn’t say it often, he had confused you with those very words before—the verbiage alarmingly reminiscent of what he told you before your bachelorette party, or when you brought up the lack of an infidelity clause in his prenup. 

If anything ever happened with anyone else, we could both handle it. We’re adults and we can handle things like adults.

Though his words were curious, you dismissed them at the time, never expecting that to be an issue. Of all of your problems with Patrick—his difficulty expressing his emotions, his complicated relationship with his family, his lack of experience in love—you never expected infidelity to be one of those problems. 

You swallowed, your saliva feeling thick and poisonous as it slowly crept down your throat. “Honey, what do you mean?”

Patrick didn’t speak, looking down at the pristinely folded sheets in front of him rather than at you. “I’m sorry,” was all that he managed to get out. 

You looked at Patrick blankly, waiting for him to tell you that whatever you were assuming wasn’t true or that he was pulling some sort of cruel prank on you. Instead, all you were met with was the sound of blood urgently rushing through your ears and the faint bassline of whatever song the DJ was playing at your reception. 

“You know that love is complicated for me,” he looked in your direction, but couldn’t sustain eye contact with you. “Can we be adults about this?”

Once it became clear to you what exactly Patrick was trying to tell you, your knees gave out on you, the rest of your body overwhelmed with the unfathomable information that your brain was trying to process. Patrick cheated on you—and he was telling you just hours after you got married. 

The truth of the situation sucked the air right out of your lungs and the strength right out of your body. Your knees buckled under you, and you desperately seeked out anything you could sit on. You settled on the foot of the bed, across from where your husband nervously sat. 

“Fuck,” you dug the palms of your hands into your eyes, surely smudging the makeup on your eyelids as you attempted to collect your thoughts. “Who was it?”

“It didn’t mean anything to me,” he pathetically attempted to explain away. It all sounded like gibberish to you. For all you knew, your husband was speaking a totally different language to you. 

Despite your question and Patrick’s non-answer, you somehow felt like you knew exactly who he’d been with. The answer was all over his discomfort when he saw you talking to the woman without him by your side, and the way she sized you up and attempted to psych you out of marrying Patrick not even 24 hours ago. 

“Was it Tashi?” you asked, not even listening to his empty words and keeping your face frighteningly neutral. You spoke the words like you were playing a round of Guess Who, calm and even despite the budding feeling of dread in your stomach. 

He didn’t respond, but he didn’t need to. His deafening silence was answer enough

“Can I kick her out?” you asked with an alarmingly stable tone, still mostly unable to process this information, but knowing that it wasn’t good. 

“Yeah,” he replied quietly, head still hung and unable to make eye contact with you. 

As you took in the truly depressing sight in front of you—your husband’s hunched over posture, a shame so strong that he couldn’t even look at you, and his clipped, short answers—you couldn’t deny that you were tempted to comfort him. In any other situation, if Patrick was feeling a fraction of the negative emotion he seemed to be feeling in that moment, you would instantly be at his side, holding his hand reassuringly or holding him close in a way that told him that if no one else was there for him, you would be, but you weren’t sure you could legitimize his bad behavior with such a response. 

Instinctually, you reached out to touch him like you’d done a thousand times before, giving him a hug before a big event or spooning him after a family member said something that got under his skin, but you instantly reprimanded yourself. Despite how sad he looked, Patrick was the one who hurt you. You were the one who deserved comfort. 

You opted to pat Patrick’s back instead, a strange and impersonal action. For a moment, you felt less like his wife and more like a practically estranged family member, not sure how to greet you after meeting you for the first time three Thanksgivings ago. 

Your husband barely reacted to the stiff action, only looking at you wordlessly with glossed-over eyes. You got up from the foot of the bed and left wordlessly and neutrally, a robot whose only orders were to get out of the bedroom and shut the door behind you. 

The moment the door closed, the next goal settled into your mind—you couldn’t let Tashi spend another second in the venue, socializing with your family and drinking the wine that your parents so kindly provided to the wedding, as if she hadn’t been partaking in an affair with your husband. 

You felt half a bride and half a zombie as you left the confines of the bedroom and wandered the hallways. You were stone faced as you made your way back to the reception, trying to wrap your head and heart around devastating information that was shared with you at the most inopportune time possible. 

You made a slow march down the stairs, movement hindered by your dress, and imagined what you might say to Tashi once you saw her. You should’ve known something was off from the start. You should’ve trusted the bad feeling you had when she sized you up at the bar, smirking at you like the cat who got the cream before feeding you anecdotes about how sleazy your husband used to be for no apparent reason. You should’ve trusted that feeling when Patrick rushed over to pull you away.

You wished you paid attention when Patrick faintly smelled of feminine perfume when you surprised him by coming back from a business trip earlier than anticipated, or when you noticed a bracelet that didn’t belong to you sitting on your coffee table, one that disappeared the very next day. It was so easy to write the signs off at the time–the fragrance of your personal chef and the jewelry of one of his sisters–but it no longer felt that simple. Patrick was a lot of things, but you never expected that a cheater was one of those things.

The thought of Patrick with someone else made you nauseous, especially in your own home. You faintly wondered if they’d fucked in your bed or on the couch. If the answer was yes to either, you desperately wanted to burn the pieces of furniture. In fact, that would be the first thing you set out to do when you returned home after your honeymoon. Maybe you would even beg Patrick to move to a new place, one not haunted by the memories of him and another woman. 

That was, if your relationship even survived through the honeymoon. Let alone the night. You didn’t have a clue what your next steps would be. Would you be the fool who stays with a man who proved himself to be disloyal? Or would you be the fool who offered herself to the wrath of one of the most powerful families in the world? You would lose your husband, your job, and your livelihood in one fell swoop, surely being banished back to your family home in Minnesota, destined to be a receptionist at your father’s law firm for the rest of your life. 

The entire situation felt surreal in the worst possible way. You couldn’t believe that while you were dealing with the aftermath of this information, Tashi was waltzing around at your reception. More than that, you couldn’t believe the information itself: Patrick cheated. Your fiancé cheated. Your husband cheated on you. 

The same Patrick who became a groomzilla, laser-focused on giving you your dream wedding, cheated. The same man who confessed that he didn’t know what love felt like before he met you cheated on you. Your husband, who went out of his way to do anything to make you happy, even at the expense of his very powerful family, hadn’t been loyal to you. 

None of it made sense. Maybe you would walk back into the room and your guests would jump out from behind tables and reveal that this was all a cruel joke—a little hazing as you officially became a Zweig—their laughter filling up the room at the thought that you would ever believe something as ridiculous as Patrick cheating on you. 

You bit back bile as you walked into the room, the party continuing on the same way it had before you left and before you reentered—no prank to be found. The cacophony of loud music and the chatter of your guests filling your ears once more—what felt fun and exciting just moments before, now being far too overstimulating for someone trying to process information that could fundamentally alter the course of their relationship. You did your best to block out all of the extra noise and focus on your goal at hand. 

Find Tashi. Send her home.

You weren’t sure what you would actually do when you saw her. Would you yell at her? Slap her for being a homewrecker? Cry at the sight of her? Laugh at the absurdity of your husband telling you that he’d been having an affair with her on your wedding night?

Peripherally, you heard someone call your name excitedly, only slightly pulling you out of your trance. Still, you couldn’t find it in you to acknowledge whatever excited friend or family member as your eyes set on your target. Tashi Duncan, Patrick’s coworker and ex-girlfriend.

Where you admired her beauty and confidence just a day before, you found you now resented every positive aspect about her. As she stood by a table and talked to one of Patrick’s sisters, surely bored out of her mind by the delusional ramblings about his sister someday being the president, she nodded and smiled diplomatically. 

As you really began to think about it, you realized that she was the perfect candidate to be Patrick’s wife. She came from a background similar to his, his sisters liked her far more than they liked you—though that didn’t mean much—and physically, she seemed to be exactly your husband’s type. 

Part of you wondered if she was feeling as miserable as you were; if she’d spent the day imagining your wedding to be her own, if her own jealousy was blinding her the way that yours currently was blinding you, or if she’d begged Patrick not to marry you during their work meeting the previous night. The other part of you wondered if she thought of you as pathetic as you currently felt—a stupid woman so blinded by her own love that she overlooked every beaming, bright red flag.

Your pace quickened as you walked towards Tashi, heels clicking annoyingly as they marked your pace. As you made your way to the table, you found yourself growing more anxious, the first real feeling you’d felt since Patrick shared with you the truth about his infidelity.

“Hey,” you greeted Tashi and Patrick’s sister, voice surprisingly even for how agitated you were. “Mind if I chat with Tashi?” 

“Go ahead,” Cornelia shrugged. “Let’s stay in touch?” she asked Tashi, who politely agreed and watched the other woman walk off. 

Tashi opened her mouth to speak to you, presumably to comment on something asinine about the wedding, or to make an observation about your wedding that you’d already heard a thousand times that night. If you weren’t so upset, you would make a bet with yourself on whether she’d tell you how beautiful the wedding was, or how beautiful you and your husband looked at the altar.

“Your housing for the night fell through,” you explained in a very level tone. It wasn’t the best excuse, but it was what came out of your mouth.

“Oh?” she asked, sounding more than a little skeptical, before lifting her drink to her lips. “Do you know where else I might be able to find lodging at this hour?”

“No,” you replied quickly and with ease. “Actually, it’d probably be best if you just went home now.”

“Home like…?” she trailed off and eyed you curiously. 

“Like back to New York. I’m sure you can find a flight.”

She laughed in slight disbelief. “You realize this is a work function for me, right? I have work to do.”

“I’m sure you can do that work back home,” you dismissed, not backing down. By now, it was clear that Tashi was putting together the pieces of what you knew. In fact, you could pinpoint the exact moment when it occurred to her why the two of you were having this conversation in the first place.

Maybe it was the lack of your now-husband beside you, or the barely concealed emotion on your face. Regardless of what was your biggest tell on the situation, you continued to stare her down, resenting the way her lips shifted into a small smile, as if she still had the upper hand and knew something that you didn’t. It was almost as if she found the whole ordeal to be a little amusing, which only bothered you more. 

“No need to make a scene at your wedding. I’ll be on my way.” She lifted her glass up once again to finish the drink off, but you stopped her. 

You returned intense eye contact with her as you took the stemware right out of her hands and put it to your own lips, finishing the drink in a few large gulps. Though your action was impulsive, it felt like somewhat of a necessity. You desperately needed the liquid distraction from your less-than-ideal situation, and you didn’t want to give her an excuse to linger at your party a single moment longer than she needed to. 

She continued to stare at you, her expression somewhere in the middle of being impressed and weirded out. “Alright then. Well, congratulations on the wedding.”

“Fuck off,” you spat out, turning on your heel and walking away without bothering to see if she stayed or left. 

You made your rounds around the reception, smiling and talking to your guests with a fake smile plastered on your face. The shock of Patrick’s initial confession wore off shortly after you told Tashi off, but you still couldn’t help but feel completely numb to the situation. How else were you supposed to react when you found out the love of your life was sleeping with someone else? 

You continued to man the reception on your own, occasionally scanning the room but not catching a glimpse of your husband. You wondered if he was still in your bedroom, head in his hands as he wondered if he just opened a Pandora’s box on your relationship, or if Tashi went to go find him to discuss how poorly you reacted to the information. For all you knew, the two of them could be laughing at you or having sex in your wedding bed at the same time that you attempted to pretend that everything was perfectly fine. You grew faint at the mere thought. 

Eventually, you felt a familiar hand on the small of your back, something that typically was a welcome, comforting gesture. Instead, you wanted to flinch away from his hand like it was hot. You couldn’t believe that Patrick had the nerve to touch you like everything was fine after dropping such devastating information on you. Then again, at least he wasn’t hooking up with Tashi one last time. 

Still, even under the spell of a sadness that hadn’t quite settled in yet, you leaned into his touch instinctively. Unsurprisingly, it didn’t feel as comfortable as it did a few hours ago. 

“Such a beautiful ceremony,” a family friend of Patrick’s gushed to you. “You two have something really special.”

You felt Patrick’s eyes sear into you, desperately pleading for you to look back into them and show him that everything was going to be okay. That what you had was special enough that you’d be able to move past this. Like adults, as he said to you earlier.

You weren’t so sure that you could. 

The rest of the night moved painfully slowly. Where the two of you socialized separately before his private conversation with you, he seemed to be attached to your hip now, bringing you apology offers of champagne flutes and hor d'oeuvres.

Though he pleaded with you to handle your situation like adults, you wanted to act more like a petulant child. If you had it your way, you would reject his offerings of food by tossing them onto the floor, or throw a glass of sticky alcohol in his face as if you were a Real Housewife. 

If you had it your way, Patrick wouldn’t have cheated on you in the first place, and you’d be celebrating your wedding without the baggage of uncertainty for the future of your relationship. 

As you walked through the reception, you weren’t particularly angry or sad, you just felt numb. There was a strange concession in knowing that what happened in the past already happened, and that there was no way for you to change your husband’s behavior. For a moment, you wondered if the numbness was a symptom of the shock that was Patrick’s confession, or you would feel the dull thud of nothingness for the rest of your life. 

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as you watched the last of your guests filtered out of the venue, relieved to finally drop the façade of being a happy newlywed and to embrace the true feeling of shock that had been biting at you all night.  

Somehow managing to break away from your suddenly very clingy spouse, you wasted no time gathering an unopened bottle of wine for yourself, along with a cigarette and a lighter, which you unceremoniously exchanged with a caterer for a Venmo payment. You then headed outside to a balcony that overlooked a beautiful sprawling garden. 

You looked out on the neatly trimmed hedges and the bench where you sat with Patrick not even twenty-four hours ago and distantly thought about how perfectly the night should’ve gone. You got married at a beautiful venue, had every detail down to the positioning of napkins meticulously planned, and most importantly, were marrying someone you genuinely loved and couldn’t see yourself living without. 

It was all rather devastating now, to see how just a few words managed to ruin what was supposed to be the happiest day of your life. 

You took a swig from the bottle, lamenting the fact that his affair partner had been drinking this very wine earlier that night. At the thought of Tashi, you took yet another hefty swig. 

Just as you reached for the lighter to light the cigarette you so desperately needed, Patrick burst through the doors of the balcony, slightly out of breath and sweat beading on his forehead. In between his heavy breaths, you swore you caught a sigh of relief. 

You couldn’t say that you were pleased to see him—after all, you’d escaped to the balcony to get a little time alone and to think through the night—but as you took in his dramatic entrance and disheveled appearance, it became abundantly clear to you that he’d been urgently looking for you. 

“Want some?” you asked, gesturing to the bottle. Your question was more than just an offer for a drink, but a peace treaty, offering Patrick to stay outside with you despite your more complicated feelings towards him. 

“Sure,” he agreed, still slightly out of breath. He collected himself as you passed him the bottle, locking eyes with you as he took a swig from the expensive drink. It felt like time moved a little slower as you watched his lips wrap around the opening of the bottle and the way his Adam's apple bobbed while the drink went down. 

You suddenly realized that complicated didn’t even begin to cover how you felt towards Patrick. You loved him more than anything, and you were sure that you needed him in your life—but beneath the thick layers of numbness was a reservoir of hurt, far deeper than you ever imagined you could harbor for the man. 

He passed the bottle back to you, his hands gently brushing over yours. Momentarily, you felt scandalized by the action, unsure if you should feel your cheeks heating up from the small touch or if you should flinch away from it. By the time the brief moment was over, you hadn’t done either, electing to set your gaze back over the rail instead of at your partner. 

Patrick stood silently beside you, not requesting anything more to drink or even attempting to make small talk. It seemed that he was just as aware as you were that he’d changed your entire dynamic with just a few words. You wondered if he realized just how much he’d fucked both of you by fucking someone else. 

You shivered in the cold night, your dress not providing you much coverage in the elements. If your wedding night had gone any differently, Patrick would’ve offered you his suit jacket, draping the item over your shoulders and kissing you sweetly. Then again, if the night had gone differently, you likely wouldn’t be shivering on the balcony in the first place. 

You squatted to set down the bottle on the ground and rediscovered the cigarette and lighter. Though you weren’t usually one to smoke, you desperately needed it after the shitshow that was your wedding night.  

Though you put the stick to your lips, you struggled to light the cigarette, the frigid breeze making everything slightly more difficult. It didn’t help that you hadn’t smoked since you were a teenager, giggling with your friends as you clumsily attempted and failed to light up the stick, the match pinched between your fingertips quickly burning down. The contrast between the silly memory and your far less silly reality felt jarring, to say the least.  

“Here, let me,” Patrick said softly, taking the lighter from you and cupping his hand around the tip of the cigarette. You tried not to look at him too closely as you listened to the soft clicking sound of the lighter. Though he should’ve focused on the action so he didn’t burn his finger tips or the palm of his hand blocking the wind, he didn’t seem to be able to look at anything but you. The light of the flame briefly illuminated both of your faces, momentarily giving you a better look at his sad eyes. 

You inhaled as the flame touched the tip, and turned your head to exhale the smoke, not wanting to blow it in the face of your partner or have to spend another second under the scrutiny of his intense eye contact.

Even as you looked away and into the garden below, you could feel Patrick’s eyes burning into you. You were sure that if you looked back over at him, you would see him looking particularly downtrodden, lips parted for words that were on the tip of his tongue that he couldn’t quite say yet, and eyebrows drawn together in a way that only seemed to highlight the sadness in his eyes. 

Unspoken questions lingered in the air like the smoke from the cigarette dangling from your lips. Though you didn’t care for the smell, you were pretty sure you preferred the smoke to the questions. 

Finally, a quiet question was spoken into the air,  “Can I?” Patrick asked, his eyes flitting from your eyes to your lips. 

“Sure,” you replied noncommittally as you pulled the cigarette away from you and passed it to your husband. Electing to watch him instead of the unchanging garden, you observed as Patrick’s lips closed over the space where yours had just been, covering the hint of a lipstick stain that you’d left on it. After a long drag, he passed the cigarette back to you, his hand brushing softly over yours once more as you did so. 

This pattern continued, a heavy silence falling between the two of you as you shared the cigarette, your hands caressing the other’s softly.

“Here,” you murmured as you approached the filter. Instead of passing it back to Patrick, you brought it up to his lips, watching him intently as he breathed in the smoke. 

For a moment, all you could see was his face, illuminated by the burning end of the cigarette, pupils blown with something you couldn’t quite place. You weren’t sure if you wanted to ravish him right there on the balcony or push him off of it.

He blew the smoke right back into your face, electing to still share the last of the cigarette with you. You wondered if that meant anything. It probably didn’t. 

The two of you stood looking at each other, staring wordlessly as you waited for the other person to move a muscle or say something—anything. For a moment, you considered telling Patrick that you wanted an annulment. But then again, that wasn’t exactly the truth. 

“I’m going to bed,” you broke the silence with your announcement. “I need to change out of this dress.”

You wished it were that simple. You desperately wanted to scrub the day off of you and to pinch yourself until you woke up. Surely, this couldn’t be your actual wedding night. Maybe you could wake up in the morning and find that this was all a bad dream—the manifestation of anxiety before your big day.

But, as Patrick trailed behind you in the hallway as if you would disappear if you left his sight, you were pretty sure that this was the reality. You wouldn’t wake up and find that your husband had been loyal to you. 

Your return to the room was a silent one. The moment you stepped foot through the door, it felt like you were back in that horrible moment; like Patrick was moments from revealing to you that Tashi was the tip of the iceberg. 

Bile rose in your throat once more. You made a beeline to the bathroom, hoping that the change of scenery might halt your thoughts altogether. 

You stepped out of the bathroom with an entirely different mindset than what you had as you entered. Sure, your wedding night wasn’t at all what you expected it to be, but it didn’t mean that you couldn’t put it back on the right track. In the bathroom, you slipped on a silky nightie, what you hoped would be a reminder to both of you that this wasn’t any old regular night, but your wedding night. Though, with the day you just had, you weren’t so sure that either of you would be up for a particularly romantic night. You guessed it couldn’t hurt. 

You left the bathroom as a woman on a mission, your eyes set on Patrick as you crossed the bedroom floor to get to him. Though he’d been laying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling like it had the secrets to the universe written on it, the sound of your entrance drew his attention over to you. You gently bit your lower lip and hoped that your face said ‘sexy’ rather than ‘so nervous you might be sick.’

His eyes stayed locked on you as you crawled into bed, and you hoped once more that the action of you moving towards him on your hands and knees didn’t appear as desperate as you felt on the inside. 

It felt like your evening consisted of one desperate plea after another: Please don’t do this to me. Please just pretend that everything’s fine. Please don’t leave me. 

He followed your lead as you trailed your hand up his arm and looked at him as seductively as you could manage before pushing him down onto the bed and straddling his lap. Distantly, you wondered how Tashi imitated things with him—if she did anything that Patrick liked more about her than you. You did your best to push that thought away, but failed miserably. 

Mechanically, you ran your hands through his hair and kissed him passionately. You tried to ignore the lump in your throat and reminded yourself that it was just Patrick. Things weren’t all that different, except for the fact that he was your husband now—and that he cheated on you.

You tried once more to push that thought out of your mind as you moved your hips against his lap, but your attempts were in vain. It certainly didn’t help that as you kissed him, you tasted the cigarette you shared earlier in his breath—an unwelcome reminder of the awkward tension that lingered between the two of you after he shared the truth about his infidelity. And surely, it was just your mind, but his lips almost tasted like the chapstick of another woman. 

Suddenly, all you could think about was Tashi with your husband. Him and Tashi in your bedroom, or in a hotel room, or on your couch. Did she do anything special that drove him crazy? What did she have that you didn’t? 

Your body said one thing, but your brain said something completely different. You did your best to power through the thoughts of your husband being with another woman, but you were beginning to realize that when it came to cheating, you weren’t all that tough. You bit down on Patrick’s lip in what you hoped would be a light nibble, but the taste of iron quickly filled your mouth. 

You slowed down your movements as your thoughts sped up before you gave up entirely. You supposed it was a classic case of mind over matter, and your mind was not nearly as strong as any of your physical urges. 

You shifted off of Patrick far later than you should’ve, feeling like a complete and utter failure. You couldn’t even do the one thing you should’ve been able to do during your wedding night. No wonder he found solace in someone else’s body. 

“I’m sorry,” you said weakly, your voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

It took you rolling off of Patrick to realize that his face was damp, eyes glossy with a thin layer of tears threatening to fall. The pit in your stomach that had been steadily growing since Patrick pulled you aside to tell you something finally came to a head when you realized that your husband was crying.

“Why are you sorry?” he asked, his voice cracking on the last syllable of his question. 

A fresh tear rolled down his cheek, which was then followed by a few other droplets. He turned his head away from you and wiped them away quickly so you wouldn’t notice them, but the damage was already done. 

You’d never seen Patrick cry before—not when you watched sad movies that left you bawling, not when the two of you watched advertisements for puppies in shelters, not even when he thought his dad might be dying. To see him shed tears over you felt particularly unsettling. 

“Patrick?” you said his name softly, like he was delicate and going to break. 

“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he looked towards you once more, eyes now rimmed with red. “I ruined everything already. I'm so sorry.”

This was a complete wild card on top of a stack of wild cards. If someone told you that your wedding night would end with your husband telling you he cheated on you, a pathetic failed attempt at sex, then watching your partner cry for the first time in front of you, you would’ve laughed in their face. 

His crying continued, becoming slightly more intense as sorrow racked through his body. You’d never been in a situation like this before, so you were completely unsure of what to do. 

With all prior restraint to show him physical affection gone, you awkwardly slotted your arms around your husband. He automatically leaned into you, burying his face in your shoulder as he continued to shed quiet tears. Your shoulder quickly grew damp as you threaded your fingers through his curls, the repetitive petting being just as soothing for you as it was for him. 

Despite it all, you still felt a general sense of nothing at all. You were beginning to grow concerned, knowing that deep down there were certainly emotions that weren’t ready to approach the surface. You worried about what it might look like once those feelings finally came out, but that was the least of your worries when it came to your weeping husband. 

Patrick continued to cry quietly, the only sound in the room being his soft, occasional sniffles. You couldn’t even place how you felt or how long you sat there stone faced as you cradled your husband. 

Eventually, the tears on your shoulder dried and the intervals between sniffles grew further and further. Soon, the soft sounds of weeping turned into the long and deep breaths of rest. Between you playing with his hair and holding him, he must’ve fallen asleep. You couldn’t really blame him—given your eventful day, your all-nighter the previous day, and the energy it took for him to cry. 

You gently laid Patrick back down on his side of the bed, pulling a blanket over his chest and pushing back the hair on his forehead to press a kiss to him. He stirred slightly against the forehead kiss, but didn’t seem to wake up all the way. Even when your feelings were complicated towards the man, you couldn’t help being affectionate towards him. In some ways, you felt like you needed that affection just as much as he did. 

You let out a long sigh as the reality of everything truly began to set in, and you no longer had to be strong for your weeping partner. You couldn’t wrap your head around the sight of Patrick crying for the first time, or the fact that he cheated on you. You flicked off the bedside lamp, the only source of light in your otherwise darkened bedroom. 

You rolled over in bed and laid on your back, setting your hands on your stomach and staring up at the ceiling. You traced your eyes over the pattern of the ceiling, though it was dark and not all that clear. You wondered if you looked at it long enough, if you’d be able to make some sense out of it. You glanced over at Patrick and wondered the same thing. 

You just couldn’t understand why he’d cheat on you. You’d always been under the impression that he was just as happy in your relationship as you were. Despite his promiscuous past, he never seemed like the type of person to not be loyal to you.

You noticed a teardrop trail down his cheek in his sleep, and you gently thumbed it away. The small movement turned into you tracing a line down his nose and over his lips, then over his eyebrows and back down through the few freckles that dotted his face. Maybe if you watched him long enough, if you learned every detail of his face, someone would reveal to you why he’d done something so illogical and cruel. 

You worried about how the two of you could move forward from something like this. Though Patrick always approached the topic of infidelity with a dismissive attitude, cheating had always been a deal breaker for you in your past relationships. It shattered your trust in a way that was so foundational, you couldn’t fathom a world where your relationship with Patrick stayed exactly the same after this. 

Part of you knew already that moving forward, you’d constantly wonder if he was genuinely working late or if he was having an affair, or if his eye was wandering at events despite you standing by his side. And that was just trust when it came to relationships—obviously his lie was far deeper than just that. Now, you knew that Patrick had the capacity to hold a secret that massive from you, then share it at the worst possible time. 

In fact, his timing felt so terrible that you momentarily wondered if it was some sort of power play. Was Patrick trying to remind you that you weren’t equals in this partnership? Was he trying to manipulate you by only sharing this information to you after you were married to him and couldn’t easily call everything off? 

Your stomach turned at the possibility that Patrick wasn’t really who he said he was, and that you’d been baited and switched. You recalled the first time you met Patrick’s family, how he switched on a dime and became far more calculated and cruel to them than you’d ever seen him be with you. Was that the realest version of your husband, and the person he was with you just a façade? Was this some sort of long game he was playing with his family to piss a few people off? Did Patrick even love you?  

For the first time in your relationship, you felt like you didn’t know who you were sleeping next to. Surely, this couldn’t be the same Patrick who you set out to have a quick hook up with, and ended up talking to him for hours. It couldn’t be the same Patrick who held you tight at night and gave you kisses every morning in your kitchen. The same Patrick from your vows a few hours ago, whose hands shook as he read from notecards and declared his love for you.

You frowned as you looked over Patrick once more. You resented how he was able to sleep so peacefully after inflicting such hurt on you. Did he even understand how destroyed you were? You couldn’t see yourself sleeping through the night in the foreseeable future, your head too filled with questions about your relationship and questions about his relationship with her. Would they continue the affair? Would they still work together after this, leaving you to wonder for the rest of your life if they were still going behind your back?

You desperately wished the thoughts would stop, but they kept coming, punctuated by the sounds of Patrick’s soft snores behind you. 

By the time the sun began to peek through the blinds, your hand was on Patrick’s face once again. You wondered how it was possible for him to hurt someone he loved as much as he loved you, if his definition of love was so skewed by a lifetime of abuse labeled as love from his parents, and siblings who used cruelty as a form of affection. 

Maybe you should’ve listened to the warnings everyone gave you, from your parents who warned that your husband and his family may be more than you bargained for, from his sisters who never seemed to be able to fully wrap their head around Patrick committing to someone, let alone you. Maybe you should’ve even listened to Tashi’s coded warning about his inability to commit and stay loyal. It seemed like everyone saw the fate of your relationship coming except you. 

With the early morning light illuminating the room, things felt a little clearer for you. Beneath the numbness that protected you the previous night was a more painful undercurrent of hurt that was already beginning to eat away at you. 

For the past several years of your life, you hadn’t had to deal with any painful feelings on your own. Patrick was always there beside you to hold you tight and reassure you that everything would be okay. As you laid next to him, you realized that despite all the pain he’d inflicted on you, all you really wanted was to be held by him. 

Knowing that he was sleeping peacefully beside you, you opted to hold him, draping your body over his and pulling yourself as close as you could manage to him. You leaned your ear against his back, taking in the warmth he gave you and listening to his heart beat. As the two of your breaths and heartbeats began to match the other’s pace, you lamented that even now, your hearts beat as one. 

For the first time that evening, your eye prickled with the threat of tears. 

You lost track of how long you held your husband, but it was long enough to notice the pattern of his breath changing. You’d woken up beside him enough times to recognize that he was clearly awake, yet he made no other indication to you that he was awake. He wanted you to hold him. You wondered if he thought this might be the last time you ever do that for him. You wondered if it was the last time you’d ever do that for him. 

The two of you pretended to be asleep despite the fact that you were both obviously awake, but no one commented on anything. After your arms began to grow numb, you turned your back to Patrick, hoping that he would return the favor and give you what you really wanted. You were pleased to find that he just as eagerly wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight and breathing quietly in your ear. 

The two of you sat in complete silence, pretending you didn’t know what the other person was doing. Somehow, it felt like that was about to become a recurring theme in your relationship.

[nebuliias]

Your probably busy with your own life but is it alright if I could request reader being the younger sibling of Sunday and Robin

Do you know the scene where Robin gets 'killed'? what if instead of Robin it was the reader? how would Sunday and Robin react to the news of their younger sibling getting 'killed'?

Thank you for your time and have a great day/noon/night!!

SYNOPSIS. . . With the Charmony Festival nearing by the day, the revered Halovian siblings start getting anxious when their kin hasn’t been heard of for days.

CHARACTERS FEATURED. . . sunday and robin

CW: hurt/no comfort (I tried), gn and sibling! reader, they’re your biological older siblings, potential spoilers, platonic, like one mention of Gopher Wood, reader is aged 16 and a Nameless

— A/N’s note: HIIII EVERYONE. wow i actually posted something since who knows how long LMAO. so sorry for lack of updates, motivation has been very low and dry lately. anyways NEW FORMAT everyone

The air in Dewlight Pavilion was thick with worry and tension as the Charmony Festival’s date approached. The legendary siblings, Sunday and Robin, were together in the study room, their faces betraying their concern.

Their precious youngest sibling—basically, you—had promised yesterday to pay a visit in Moment of Morning Dew since you haven’t seen them for so long, considering your occupation as a Nameless.

Normally, Sunday, your protective older brother, would let your delays slide—if only it wasn’t for the fact that you were three hours late.

As for Robin, she nervously combed her fingers through her hair while adjusting her dainty neck pieces. “Brother, perhaps you should sit down for awhile? You’ve been pacing back and forth for awhile. Maybe they’re just visiting some shop or strolling—”

“Robin, it’s been three long hours,” he abruptly stated. “I’m pretty sure they’re not strolling around at some random park in the Dreamscape. They’re always punctual, you know that!” The man sighed, eventually sitting down beside his younger sister.

Poor Sunday, he was visibly anxious and worried. He plucked at several loose hair strands and feathers from the wings by his ears. Ever the neat perfectionist, it was ironic to see him in such a distressed state. But Robin couldn’t blame him.

It had been a pretty long time after all…

Just when she was about to excuse herself to use to the restroom, a Bloodhound guard came bursting through the grand wooden doors, a manilla folder in his sweaty hand.

“Ah, Mr. Sunday..! Oh, and hello, Miss Robin,” he panted. “My deepest apologies for interrupting whatever was happening, but I have urgent news to report.”

Sunday rapidly approached the man. “What happened? Hold on, is this about..?”

“Yes,” the Bloodhound confirmed. “Another person has fallen victim to ‘Death.’ We’ve gathered enough information, but I’m afraid you’ll be displeased who said person was.”

There was a moment of silence as Sunday split the folder open, revealing three sheets of paper. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he picked up a sheet, already thinking the worst.

Please, don’t let it be who I think it is.

Robin, who was peering over his shoulder, audibly gasped, stumbling back with a gloved hand at her mouth, muffling the incoming sobs. “No.. No, it can’t be!”

The Bloodhound bowed deeply, his face contorted in distress. “My condolences, Mr. Sunday and Miss Robin, but Y/N.. was killed by the Memory Zone Meme.”

The siblings stared blankly at the papers spread out on the desk.

•••

Name: Y/N L/N

Family: Gopher Wood, Dreammaster and adoptive father | Sunday, Oak Family Head and older brother | Robin, cosmic superstar and older sister.

Age: 16

Affliation: Nameless

Cause of death: Memory Zone Meme, “Death”—stab wound through the heart.

•••

There were several photographs taken of the scene, and Robin felt overwhelming nausea at the mere sight of it. Her body went rigidly stiff, her chest rose and fell slowly, and the world around her blurred. One hand shielded her lips and the other was put over her heart.

Meanwhile, Sunday’s strong-willed heart shattered. He felt so many things at once: shock, fury, sadness, despair—basically every negative emotion wrote in the dictionary. Yet at the same time, he didn’t know what to feel.

After awhile, the Halovian idol stood up, her legs now jittery from the sudden revelation. She took in a shaky deep breath before exhaling, not daring to break down in front of her brother. “…I’m going to use the restroom.” With that, she slowly walked out of the study, leaving the revered leader alone with his turmoil.

None of them couldn’t think straight, but who could blame them? Their sibling was dead. Their youngest sibling was dead. Their kin was dead. Their determined Nameless. Their sibling was dead.

Sunday, now isolated, suddenly felt hot beneath his clothing. His mind was disturbed, and his blue-gray wings twitched madly. He didn’t know how to act, but in the end, he let out a cry and ripped the papers apart along with the photographs before throwing the folder in a nearby trash can.

Oh, how he felt like diving into it himself. He felt like trash itself now—unwanted, crumbled, and torn apart.

Back with Robin, she ran past several Oak Family servants and dashed into the restroom, madly locking the door to ensure no one would run into her. She fell against the toilet and heaved into it, her nausea reaching its brink.

After the ordeal, she wiped her mouth before staring at herself in the mirror, unable to hold back her sadness anymore. Transparent tears poured down her flawless face, carving dry rivers in their run. Sorrowful sobs sounded from her throat, her once melodious voice now gone harsh.

Poor you. Poor, poor, poor, you. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of this. You didn’t deserve to have your life crushed like a ladybug.

Just.. why..?

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