#the character isn’t real and won’t get their feelings hurt

[jewishbarbies]

Wyll’s romance IS boring but it has nothing to do with his skin color. Larian dropped the fucking ball with his character at all possible angles. he could’ve easily been an instant favorite without having to guilt people into liking him because they apparently could only add (1) black character, but they chose not to give him the same well rounded arc and romance as some of the other characters, and that’s infinitely more racist than just finding his romance storyline boring. don’t blame players for Larian’s fuck up.

[wlw-webcomic-bracket]

Am I aware that adderall can’t do its job if I don’t get enough sleep?

Have I utterly failed to make use of this knowledge?

Am I, an entire adult with a wife and a salary, hoping “you wouldn’t want to disappoint HP, would you?” is the thing that finally motivates me to go to bed before two in the morning?

The answers to these questions will probably not surprise you!

[transk0vsky]

I understand thematically and character development wise why Casey doesn’t kill hun when he has the chance and I think that’s an interesting moment and shows a lot about Casey at his core……however I’m just saying should Casey get a second chance I don’t think he’ll hesitate……..

[mossyvil]

how they like to cuddle

includes all characters except ortho bc idk how to write for him. writing this on mobile so excuse any formatting issues

riddle- he isn’t a huge cuddler, so you guys usually are just next to each other. but sometimes if you’re lucky you’ll wake up in the middle of the night and he is clinging on to you for dear life. he isn’t aware he does this tho so don’t mention it or he’ll be embarrassed

trey- he likes to have your head on his chest, holding your hand and maybe your legs interlocked. he also plays with your hair and it feels HEAVENLY. he also subconsciously runs his hands down your back as he falls asleep.

cater- he is just all over you lmfao. on your chest, you on his, spooning, he doesn’t care. it changes like 5 times a night too bc he can’t pick a position and stay in it but all his limbs must be touching you or he is not happy >:(

ace- just a classic big spoon guy. he enjoys cuddling but not to a huge extent to being a big spoon is the right amount or contact for him. but he is a hypocrite and will not let you get up once you’re in bed lol

deuce- acts like a big spoon but it’s obvious he likes being held, he just wants to be your protector. once you coax him a little though he’s much more comfortable being the little spoon and feels very safe in your arms

more utc!

leona- uses you as his own personal body pillow. every part of him is wrapped around you, including his tail. he claims he can’t sleep well without you so he drags you to cuddle with him when he takes naps lol. only puts his head on you, not his pillow

ruggie- he has no preference. he can appreciate all of the cuddling positions and likes to switch it up each night. and yes, he does like having his head pet. so any position where you can give him head rubs is fine with him

jack- he likes having you fully on top of him. no matter your size he likes the feeling of you on him, it’s like a weighted blanket. he’s also a little afraid of hurting you with his strength so this is a win-win for him

azul- hes a little spoon. it takes a while for him to even be comfortable cuddling in the first place, and once that happens he’s actually very open with saying that he prefers to be held. it makes him feel safe, like his octopot.

jade- big spoon all the way. he doesn’t have a real reason why he likes it so much but he won’t cuddle unless he can be the big spoon. just be careful, once you’re in his arms his teasing mood kicks in

floyd- it changes every night lol. he isn’t a big fan of being the little spoon, but other than that he just goes with what you prefer. he does like to squeeze you when he can, but he tries to be gentle

kalim- little spoon! he feels very content in your arms and it helps him relax after a long day. he also likes to hold your hands in front of him. give him soft kisses behind his ear and youll get to hear his giggles bc he’s ticklish

jamil- he’s also not huge on cuddling but he can’t sleep without you in the bed. at most he wants to hold hands but even that depends on the day. he’s like a cat, he wants to be near you but not touch unless it’s on his terms.

vil- DOES like to cuddle but makes sure not to mess up his hair. usually lays on his back and pulls you into his side so he isn’t gonna ruin all his meticulous work on his skin and hair. he isn’t too upset if it does happen, but would like to avoid it

rook- has no preference, just likes to touch you lol. if he had to choose he would want you to have your head on his chest, but as long as he gets to have his affection he’s happy. he doesn’t move a lot in his sleep, but does subconsciously pull you closer to him

epel- big spoon most of the time but sometimes is the little spoon. he’s surprisingly willing to admit he likes both, but he usually goes to being the big spoon. he likes being able to hug you, you’re like a soft plushy to him

idia- likes to sleep facing you and holding hands with legs intertwined but not fully cuddling. it took him a while to even be this affectionate with cuddling, but he’s getting there. he also likes that he can look at you when your eyes are closed lol

malleus- you on top of him with your head tucked under his. he wants you as close as possible and wraps your legs around each others so you’re even closer. he runs kind of warm so it’s really nice in the winter when the dorms are cold

lilia- he likes to lay on top of you with his head in your chest lol. it doesn’t matter if you have boobs or not, he likes your chest. he says it makes a good pillow for an old fae to rest his head on

silver- very respectful of your space and likes to be the big spoon. he lets you initiate any cuddling because he wants to make sure you’re okay with it first. he’s just happy to be next to you

sebek- he sleeps like a starfish LMFAO. all limbs are in each direction. theoretically you could cuddle like that but it’s not very comfortable 😭 he does at least try to go to sleep cuddling you if you want, but he moves a lot in his sleep so it doesn’t last that long

[perlelune]

Creep | Oliver Quick

Though you can’t grasp exactly what, you know something is very off with your boyfriend’s peculiar new friend.

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, Stalking, Voyeurism, Cheating, Coercion, Blackmail, Drinking, Smoking, Unhealthy Relationship Dynamic

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Felix’s long digits drum over your back as he pouts, “You really brought me here just to study, babe?” His raspy, flirtatious tone tugs your lips skyward. Still, your attention doesn’t stray from your laptop screen. Sentences bleed from your fingertips at a quick-fire pace. A little under three thousand words on Bentham’s theory of utilitarianism, due by Monday. The topic isn’t exactly thrilling but you have to hand it over in time.

“If I don’t ace this essay, I’m going to fail this class,” you absently reply. Failure. The one thing you literally can’t afford right now, though you forbear sharing that particular bit with Felix. Best he perceives your single-minded determination as a core stare of your character rather than what it actually is…a necessity, one born of dire circumstances.

He takes a long drag off his cigarette. Grey smoke floats around you, smudging the words on your screen. You repress tears as your eyes burn. You wished he’d curb the nasty habit. You’ve dropped hints before.

But no one tells Felix Catton what to do. Many would kill to even breathe the same nicotin-infused air as him. Felix is the sun and everyone on campus craves to be in his orbit, eager for the slightest chance to bask in his warmth, shower in his light.

You’re no different. The day he asked you out, a little over a year ago, you pinched yourself twice to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Felix Catton wanted…you? It couldn’t be real. 

This was the boy you held in your heart for a decade, the only one you ever had eyes for.

And while your relationship suffered its share of hardships, namely Felix’s wandering eyes, you couldn’t picture life without him at your side.

He’s your everything.

He could hurt you a thousand times and you’d forgive him each of those times.

Felix’s bare shoulder grazes yours as he states, “They won’t fail you, not with who your dad is.”

Your stomach knots with his comment. Still, you shrug, pretending away the guilt steadily gnawing your insides.

“I don’t want to get special treatment just because of my family name, Felix,” you say, trying your best to sound nonchalant.

Though his smile never falters, his jaw ticks. “And I do?”

The ice in his tone scatters in your veins. Immediately, you discard your homework, concerned gaze finding his.

“I’m not saying that.” When Felix doesn’t respond, panic roars inside you. You touch his exposed chest to bring his attention to you. He doesn’t move. “I didn’t say that.”

A thick blanket of silence engulfs the room and your airways constrict. It feels as if your heart is on the verge of collapse as you wait for a reaction from your boyfriend, his chestnut gaze glued to the ceiling.

His head turns to you slowly. He releases a large puff of smoke in your face. Tears rush to your eyes, filling them to the brim.

Felix shrugs.

“It sounded like you did. A little. But that’s okay.” His tone is mellow in that way that oozes displeasure. “I’m just a legacy kid getting by on his trust fund and good looks, right?”

Your mouth quakes and he bursts out a chuckle. He cups your cheek, a wide grin breaking onto his face. “I’m just fucking with you, babe.”

You swallow your budding tears, wiping your eyes swiftly as Felix reaches around you to put out his cig in the ashtray.

You punch him in the chest, your own laughter bubbling out.

“You’re an arsehole.”

His grin expands. Twining your fingers with his, Felix’s tone gets softer.

“I wanted to ask…” He trails off, brown gaze clinging to yours. “Can Ollie come to the party you and Anabel are throwing tonight?”

You tilt your head in befuddlement. “Ollie?”

He traces the lines in your palm, adding absently, “Yeah, Oliver. I told you about him. Saved my arse when my bike broke.”

“Right, bike guy,” you say, remembrance hitting you. You tilt your head. “What’s he like?”

Felix sighs.

“He doesn't have too many friends.  He's also had a rough upbringing. So I thought we could help him a little, you know?” You study him. However casual your boyfriend attempts to sound, you instantly recognize what this is. Yet another try at playing knight in shining armor. Whoever this Oliver guy is, he’s now become your boyfriend’s side project. His charity case possibly.

“He’s not like us so we could try to be nice.”

Not like us. You mask your discomfort with a bright smile. 

About a year ago, your dad’s company filed for bankruptcy. Thankfully your scholarship still allows you to attend Oxford, but your lifestyle has drastically changed. No more shopping sprees. No more casual leisure trips to Europe. No more frivolous spendings with daddy’s black card.

The last straw was when your father emptied every account, including your trust, and left the country without as much as a goodbye text. Since those events, your mother has taken refuge at the bottom of a whisky bottle. You can barely get a hold of her these days.

So not only are you penniless, you might as well be an orphan. 

Felix is all you have left. You can’t risk him finding out the truth. He can never know about the part time jobs you’ve had to take to cover tuition costs or the small flat your mum had to move into after your father had to sell the family manor. He might think you’re beneath him now, working class, destitute. Or worse, he might pity you, treat you like a charity case too. 

You follow the curve of his dark brow with your thumb, sweeping over his silver stud.

“Hm, sure. I can be nice,” you promise.

“I know you can,” he teases, large hands pulling on your thighs to spread you across his lap.

You squeal before scolding him, “Felix…I really really need to finish this essay.”

His eyes darken with lust as he licks his lips. He wiggles his hips, causing the bulge in his jeans to rub against your clothed center. Your breath hitches. “And I really really need you to take care of this for me.” His hoarse, desperate inflection makes your core clench. His palms run over your thighs beneath your short dress. “Just five minutes? Come on, I’ve been hard for like an hour, babe.”

He hums, already playfully fiddling with the edge of your lace panties.

“It’s your fault for wearing this fucking pink dress. You know the way your ass looks in it drives me crazy.”

You resolve crumbles beneath Felix’s heated stare. You can never tell him no. And he knows that. Releasing a deep sigh, you relent.

“Five minutes,” you offer.

He slides one finger inside your weeping core. As you draw a sharp breath, Felix beams.

“It’s all I need,” he coos.

The party’s at his height, loud music blasting from the gigantic speakers and glow sticks waving in the pitch blackness of the underground cellar. You thread your way between tipsy students, carrying two cups of beer in your hands. 

As you reach the VIP corner, you hand Annabel her drink. The redhead mumbles her thanks as she bobs her head to the music. You peer at your surroundings, glad to see everyone having fun. 

It’s a frank success. Pride trickles inside you at that. It’s been hard collecting pockets of free time to put it together between classes and assignments. But you did it. 

Truthfully, you’re also craving some fun tonight. All you’ve done lately is studying. You miss the days when you were more carefree, unconcerned about your grades deciding the course of your future.

You glance down at your watch, scowling as you notice the time. He was supposed to be here three hours ago.

“Where’s Felix?” you ask Venetia. Your boyfriend’s sister  lazily opens her eyes, a drunken smile spreading onto her lips. She shrugs. “Don’t know. Haven’t seen him around.” 

You pivot to the rest of the group. 

“Have you guys seen him tonight?”

Annabel shakes her head apologetically while Farleigh brings his blunt to his mouth with a taunting smile.

“Desperate much?” he teases.

“Farleigh, come on,” Anabel chastises. She bumps her shoulder into yours, her expression sympathetic. “Don’t mind him, you know he’s always a jerk after a few drinks.”

Farleigh sighs. “Darling, you know I love you. It was just a joke.”

“A joke, right…” you mumble. Your cheeks heat though you try not to let your feelings show. Still, Farleigh’s words linger in your head. Maybe you’re being too clingy. It’s something you should mind.  What if you became too needy and Felix grew bored of you? It’s not like he wouldn’t find a replacement for you in a heartbeat.

You lie back on the plush couch, sipping from your beer cup as your friends continue their chat. The conversation has long since stopped making sense, fueled by drug-inspired ramblings. Your attention is halved by your straying train of thoughts, the current whereabouts of your boyfriend still at the forefront of your brain.

Another hour flies by before Felix’s towering frame finally pierces through the crowd. A smaller boy trails behind him, his expression mirroring that of a lost puppy. He adjusts his glasses, awkwardly avoiding the drunken bodies around him. The word “Sorry” doesn’t stop pouring from his mouth. 

You realize this must be Oliver. Astonishment flows through you. This isn’t the kind of company Felix traditionally keeps. But you elect to try your best to be nice and welcoming.

It’s what Felix asked of you after all. Besides, entering a new group of people cannot be easy, your tight-knit circle having known each other since kindergarten for some.

You don’t miss Anabel’s fleeting,  condescending glance as she takes in Oliver though. Getting her assent to let him come had been a hassle, as she regards him as some weird, scholarship kid who’d just bring the mood down. But you insisted and she finally caved.

You trade a meaningful look with her, silently nudging her to be nice. The redhead practically rolls her eyes but squeezes her lips shut. Annabel may be one of your best friends but even you’re aware that she can be quite snobbish at times. 

A sullen expression decorates your face as Felix enters the private booth. 

“You’re late,” you blurt out. Farleigh snickers behind you and your cheeks flare. But everything around you fades as Felix grabs your face and presses feverish lips over yours. Your irritation melts in the heat of the passionate kiss. 

When he frees your mouth, his thumb runs over your swollen bottom lip as he explains casually, “Yeah we were just hanging out and we lost track of time.”

He then introduces the shy boy.

“That’s Ollie.”

“Nice to meet you,” he stutters.

“Likewise,’ you reply smiling.

You gauge him. Beneath the large glasses, you note the slanted blue eyes and soft, round boyish features. Felix’s friend is cute. If only he weren’t so painfully awkward. 

“You should sit with us. There’s plenty of space,” you say. 

Felix draws you onto his lap as he sits. Oliver takes a nervous seat next to the two of you. His eyes keep rising to Felix, as if seeking perpetual approval from your boyfriend. You’re a little perplexed. Farleigh hands Felix a spliff and he lets his hand rest on your thigh while taking a long drag from it.

“So, where are you from exactly?” you ask Oliver.

His gaze on you and Felix is sharp, somehow constantly darting to where your boyfriend’s holding you.

“Prescott,” he answers.

You mull over his response. It’s a few hours away from Oxford. You don’t know much about it. Though, based on what Felix implied about the way he grew up, you expected him to originate from a rougher area. Prescott doesn’t seem too awful.

“Prescott? They must be proud of you back home, especially your parents.”

“Probably not, actually.”

Your curiosity is piqued. “Why are you saying that?”

Oliver shrugs. His eyes find the floor before meeting yours again.

“Just don’t talk to them much,” he mutters. “They got problems and stuff…”

You slant your head. “Problems?”

Felix’s hand tightens atop your thigh. “Babe, that’s enough prying, don’t you think?”

“I’m just making conversation, trying to get to know him.”

“You’re embarrassing him, babe.”

Oliver’s blue gaze lifts to yours, his face unreadable.

“No, it’s fine,” he says, though you detect a slight edge to his timbre that wasn’t there before. A small smile tugs his lips. “I don’t mind questions. Got nothing to hide.”

You nod. An icy tickle blooms at the base of your spine, scattering outward as Oliver’s intense focus doesn’t leave you. You turn away, shifting your attention to your boyfriend. Throughout the entire night, a strange sensation thunders through you, like the lightning before the storm. You can’t explain it. It’s like the world shifted off its axis, though you can’t pinpoint the reason.

Thankfully the strangeness is cast aside by Felix’s soft lips and heady, masculine scent. As the party goes on in the background, the two of you sneak away. You end up making out in a dark corner, Felix’s greedy hands slipping beneath your short skirt to grab a fistful of your ass. He pinches your flesh and you squeal.

A warm chuckle spills from his lips as he peppers tender kisses alongside your neck.

“Let’s go back to my dorm,” he whispers.

You readily agree. He takes your hand and the two of you hitch a ride back to campus. The two of you giggle in the backseat of the car every time the driver berates you for getting too handsy with each other. You laugh it off all the way back to his room, lips locking as you cross the threshold. You jump to wrap your legs around Felix’s tapered waist. He purrs, his hands latching around your hips, pulling you closer. He pushes you against a wall, tracing a scorching path in the valley between your breasts. Moaning, you toss your head back. 

As your eyes flutter however, you catch sight of a silhouette standing outside Felix’s window. Your heart bounces, your eyes growing saucer-wide. You gasp and leap away from Felix. 

“What the fuck?” he curses as you race to the window. Chest pulsing with your quick heartbeats, you peel the window open to peek outside. The cold night air whisks inside the room. Goosebumps break out on your skin.

Your gaze wanders, searching the darkness. Confusion swells within you as you find nothing. Nothing but greenery, the same trees and grass flanking your path whenever you stroll through campus. 

“There was someone outside, w-watching us,” you stammer.

Felix’s frustrated breath grazes the back of your neck. “Babe, there’s no one out there.”

You squint, dumbfounded when nothing but pitch blackness stares back at you. For a minute, you really believed someone stood there. In fact, whoever they were bore a peculiar resemblance to…

You catch yourself before finishing the thought.

Now that’s just crazy.

“But I saw…”

Felix shifts your body towards him. He cups your cheeks and rasps, “Hey. Hey, look at me. There’s no one but us here.” His lips collide with yours. He starts groping you again and you push him off  you, stunned that he wants to have sex at a time like this.

“No, Felix, I-I can’t.”

He stumbles back and scoffs, “Oh.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you inquire, glowering at him.

His gaze flicks over you, his expression cold. “All that teasing just to leave me high and dry?”

“Felix, wait…”

He avoids your touch, collecting his jacket from the bed when your fingers stretch towards him.

“It’s fine. I’m just gonna have a smoke. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Your stomach sinks.

“O-Okay,” you say as your hand retreats to your side.

The door slams shut and you collapse on Felix’s bed. Your eyes veer to the window once more. You could have sworn you caught a glimpse of someone. Maybe all those late nights writing essays and revising for the upcoming exams are slowly catching up to you, dragging you to the brink of madness.

Felix doesn’t call you the following day. Of course he doesn’t. You broke the mood. You acted weird. What reason does he have to want to be around you again? It’s bad enough you neglected him in favor of your assignments and club activities for the last few weeks. Now you can’t even enjoy the sparse time you have together.

Still, you flip your phone open all day long, longing for a word from him, any trivial, insignificant word.

You get nothing. 

You gloomily drag your feet around campus and somehow find your way in one of the empty student lounges, save Farleigh and Venetia. Lying flat on the carpeted floor, eyes glued to the ceiling, the two of them are sharing a spliff. You wedge yourself between them, lying on your back also. You steal the roll from Venetia’s fingers and bring it to your lips. Your throat burns and you cough as you inhale a puff. Venetia’s lips curve upward as your eyes water.

“You gotta take it easy the first time,” she says, amusement lighting her olive orbs. “Tiny inhales.” She shows you how and you mimic her gestures. You go slower the second time and a pleasant numbness sets into your limbs. Your eyes shut. You kind of get it now. For the first time in several weeks, your mind’s almost at rest, your stormy thoughts quieted. 

“You don’t smoke,” Farleigh notes near you.

“I am today.”

“You guys will be fine,” Venetia assures. “You’re always fine.”

Your eyes open, settling on the pristine white ceiling. 

“I fucking hate him sometimes.” You pause, sucking a deep breath. “But I love him more.”

“Yep, that’s Felix,” they utter in unison.

You heave out a weary sigh. They grew up with him. They know better than anyone, how sweet and wonderful he can be, but also cruel and careless sometimes.

Just like the sun, Felix’s light can also burn whoever gets too close. 

For a while, the three of you hang out in silence, the spliff switching hands every once in a while. Eventually, each of them rises, leaving you to your mopey thoughts. 

Before taking his leave however, Farleigh whispers in your ear,

“Oh and darling, next time you wear a rental…make sure the price tag isn’t sticking out. It gives you away.”

You sit up immediately. A smile dances on the boy’s lips as he disappears. You grab the back of your neck, face warming as you feel the tag poking through the collar of your shirt.

You nearly forgot you’re due to return the designer piece in two days’ time. You can’t believe someone noticed. Though you suppose if anybody would, it’d be Farleigh. Nothing gets past his keen eye. You surmise it was a necessity with the way he grew up. Learning to read people, knowing what makes them tick, being able to spot a pretender from a mile away…which you are now.

Maybe it’s ludicrous, acting like you can still afford to live like this, like your life wasn’t turned upside down.

Still, you can’t fathom the alternative. The judgement, the pity, from your friends…from Felix. The thought alone makes you sick. The echo of Anabel’s voice as she disparaged Oliver’s background a few days ago never left you. 

Dunno what Felix even sees in him. He’s some weird scholarship kid who buys his clothes at Oxfam.

That was harsh…and made you wonder what your best friend would have to say about your current situation. 

So you’d rather lie, even if you sometimes look like a fool doing so.

You swallow a wide lungful, willing yourself to be calm. You repeat the mantra, again and again. You’re okay. You’re okay. You just need to keep your grades up and get through the semester.

The rest of the week is hell. Felix all but ignores you, not even sparing you a glance when he brushes past you in the university corridors. The itch to talk to him sears inside you. Unfortunately, he’s always surrounded by a swarm of people, the center of attention as usual, making approaching him near impossible. You can’t picture bringing up your relationship problems in front of so many eyes.

Besides, you don’t want to project desperation, Farleigh’s pointed gibe still resonating in your mind. You need to play it cool, wrap yourself in a disguise of indifference…despite the way you wither away every second he’s not texting you back. 

The agonizing wait is made worse by him. He’s everywhere now. Wherever Felix goes, he goes too. Oliver Quick has essentially become your boyfriend’s shadow. Whether in class, at pub meetups, at parties, the quiet, nervous boy  never abandons Felix’s side, always peering up at him with those round baby blues of his, a strange mix of admiration, devotion and…something else you can’t pinpoint etched on his face.

It’s sort of creepy in your opinion. 

Though you’d never say it aloud. For some reason, Oliver’s his new toy. And you’re acutely aware of how Felix is with his toys. He plays with them for a while then moves on to the next fancy, shiny new one. He did it to Eddie before. Now Oliver. 

And maybe it’ll be your turn one day…if you don’t do something. 

It’s how you end up in front of his dorm one night, already tipsy from half a bottle of vodka. Liquid courage to get you to knock on his door. It’s pathetic. Of course it is, but you just can’t wait anymore. 

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes and shaking off your nerves. Your knuckles are less than an inch from the door when a broken whimper reaches you from the other side of Felix’s door. 

Brows furrowing, you place your ear against the wood. You hear a moan this time. Deep, distinctive, masculine…familiar. Your heart stops. 

You plummet to your knees, peering through the keyhole. You feel wrong for doing so, for invading Felix’s privacy like this. But guilt crumbles beneath the weight of heartbreak at what you witness. 

You almost find yourself wishing you hadn’t looked. Almost.

Rivulets of anguish flow down your face as you watch your best friend and boyfriend lip-locked, practically swallowing each other’s faces. Their clothes aren’t off but the urgent way they’re grinding against each other is a dead giveaway as to what’s to come.

Legs trembling, you stumble back from the door. You shouldn’t have come. This was a mistake. You’re a fool.

You drunkenly stagger through the corridors, clinging to the walls each time you almost trip over your own feet.

You wind up slumped on some stairs, too inebriated to carry yourself much further. Your lids sag as you exhale. More hot tears spill down your cheeks. Your chest aches, a knife piercing through your heart as the memory of Annabel and Felix lost in the throes of passion fleets across your brain. Why are you even shocked? It’s not like you never caught Anabel leering at him while she thought you weren’t looking. And it’s not like Felix is some kind of saint. Still, you can’t help but feel massively betrayed. You thought you meant more to him. You thought they wouldn’t…not with each other.

When your eyes flutter open, you find a pair of intense cobalt orbs studying you.

“Oliver…” you mumble. In your drunken stupor, you don’t bother wondering how he got here, seemingly materializing from thin hair.

He hunkers in front of you. His scent tickles your nose and it twitches. The smell of his cologne is so strikingly reminiscent of the one Felix wears. A wave of emotion engulfs you. Sobs shake your frame as you shrink against the wall.

Oliver’s gaze rises to your weeping face as he questions, “Are you okay?”

“M’fine…” you slur, wiping your snotty nose. You must look a fright, a pathetic heap of tears aimlessly wandering the university corridors.

He tilts his head. “You don’t look fine.”

You consider Oliver. He is cute, which you noticed before. And in the dimly lit stairway, his blue eyes burn even brighter. You loathe that Felix is allowed to hurt you the way he did and can just…keep on. If your friends aren’t off-limits, why would his be?

You bat your lashes at Oliver.

“You got any alcohol?”

His lips curve upward as he rasps, “Would you like me to have alcohol?”

How did you end up there? The question keeps swirling in your head as Oliver’s mouth hungrily devours yours, his arm snaking around your waist to pull you closer. He trails fevered kisses down your neck and you squirm. As his teeth sink into the flesh at the crook of your neck, you let out a sharp cry. You tug on his dark locks and Oliver growls against your skin. The pain mixes with pleasure in your haze. His tongue then circles where he punctured your flesh, dragging slowly as an elated purr rises from his chest. His hard-on presses into your thigh. Alarm bells ring inside your mind.

It’s all a little too real, you realize. You got carried away. You draw back, pushing against his chest. “Oliver, wait…”

You might as well have said nothing, your words falling to unlistening ears as Oliver grabs your wrists and nudges you on the bed on your back. You peer up at him. Lust darkens his blue gaze, making him appear almost inhuman in the darkness.

Your mouth wobbles.

Pinning your wrists at your sides, Oliver kisses you senseless. Soon his lips are tracing a scorching path down your body, his hands moving to peel off your short skirt and panties.

His attentive gaze doesn’t leave yours as he sluggishly drags the tiny layer of lace down your legs.

His throat bobs when your bare cunt is exposed to him.

Biting his bottom lip, Oliver crawls his way to your core. Your legs quake. There is a strange glow in his eyes that sends chills down your back. 

“Oli-” you start, but the protest dwindles in a helpless whimper when Oiver buries his head between your thighs and flicks his tongue against your bundle of nerves. Oliver’s firm hands clasp around your thighs, keeping you in place when you attempt to close your legs. He greedily eats you out, fingers digging into your soft flesh. He suckles your tender button in his mouth and your eyes roll back. Your fingers get lost in his dark mane as your back arches against the sheets. Oliver’s feverish tongue sweeps around your folds and you grow weaker, slumping against the pillow. 

Quickly, stars dangle in your vision. Your fists tighten around the sheets while your legs turn to jelly. A long breath flows from your lips. 

You don’t remember ever coming that hard before, not even with Felix.

Tingles are still dancing over your legs as a sliver of clarity returns to you.

Oliver’s tongue slowly moves, collecting the remnants of your essence off his lips as a look of sheer bliss decorates his face. You shiver.

You try to move off the bed. “I think that’s enough,” you say, folding your knees.

Oliver’s mouth quirks lopsidedly. “Oh, we’re nowhere near done, luv.”

Much quicker than you, Oliver slithers his way up your body and cages you beneath his frame. He steals your lips in a hungry kiss, trapping your wrists above your head. His fingers are tight enough that you just know it’ll bruise. You taste your own bittersweet flavor on his tongue. His hand creeps under your shirt, groping your tits. He plants urgent pecks on your face, dragging his teeth along your jaw.

“Oliver, please…”  you beseech, shock making your voice shake.

He sinks a finger between your slick walls. Your stomach tightens.

Oliver releases your swollen lips and twists his finger inside your core. Your breath hitches.

He smiles down at you.

“But you’re gushing down there, luv. This is what you want.”

Your face warms. You hate that he’s right, that your body clings to him, making space you wish it didn’t…almost inviting his actions.

But Oliver’s mouth and hands are far too good at knowing which buttons to press to turn you into a whimpering mess. Shame pools in your gut as sharp keens leave your lips.

He pumps inside you at a steady pace, his thumb teasing your heap of sensitive nerves every once in a while, pressing until you cry out. He adds another finger and the air in your lungs falters. His hands feel everywhere at once, his teeth and mouth scattering marks all over your body.

He doesn’t stop until you clench around him, soaking his hand with your juices when you shatter with a high-pitched wail.

You crash over the pillows. Your body is still coming off the high. Half-lidded eyes blindly rise to the ceiling. Oliver yanking off his shirt and discarding his pants doesn’t register, not fully, the entire bottle of vodka you emptied before making your mind slow.

He’s suddenly inside you, his thick length splitting you apart as he places his forearms besides your head.

Your lips part in a quiet shout. It feels like if you might break, your walls aching as they stretch around him.

He begins to rail into you, each of his thrusts blunt and animalistic. As if he were possessed by some beast. You know it’s ludicrous. But as the lewd clapping of your damp skin against his rises each time he buries himself balls-deep inside you…it’s how you feel. Like a wild animal somehow broke free and started rutting into you.

Your head lolls against the pillows, your thoughts going blank every time he grazes your sweet spots. Your fingernails rake down his back. 

“Does Felix fuck you like this?” he rasps. He presses his chest against yours, his cock hitting an angle that draws a lengthy moan from you. A crooked smile ghosts over Oliver’s lips. “Or maybe more like this…” 

His warm breath fans over your earshell.

“Tell me luv… How do our cocks compare?”

When you don’t respond, he roughly shoves inside you, his fingers cinching around your windpipe. You gasp in horror, gaping at him through tear-filled eyes.

“Answer me,” he instructs, his voice deeper than before.

“Y-You’re bigger than he is,” you sputter, struggling to get the words out with his hand squeezing your throat. 

A peculiar blend of excitement and disappointment swims in his gaze when you answer.

You weakly claw at his chest, squirming beneath him. He doesn’t let you go, bending to shove his tongue in your mouth. He drags his tongue over your face, licking your hot tears. Sobs jostle your frame.

“Oliver, please,” you repeat.

He shushes you, framing your chin. His thumb follows the outline of your bottom lip, bleeding and swollen from all his rough kisses. 

“Stop fighting it. Be a good girl.” He showers tender pecks across your collarbone before softly whispering against your temple, “Or I’ll tell Felix everything. That you came onto me, begging me to fuck you.” His devilish smile sears into your skin. “I’ll tell him what a good little slut you were for me.”

Your stomach drops. Oliver collects your tears with his fingertips. He shoves his fingers in his mouth, emitting a throaty moan at the taste of your despair. He then dips those same fingers in your mouth, his pelvis snapping into yours.

“It’s beautiful, how much you love him,” Oliver mumbles, growing harder inside you as a fresh wave of tears brim beneath your lashes. “You’re beautiful. I can see why he always comes back.” He rests his forehead against yours, a mischievous smile dancing on his lips. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you for myself when this is all done.”

The awakening in the early morning is rude, the wicked headache and ache in your limbs reminding you of last night’s events right away. Strips of sunlight sneak between the curtains, caressing your face. The usually pleasant warmth does nothing to soothe your frayed nerves. Your stomach clenches as you peer at your side. Oliver’s completely naked, only wearing the silver chain always around his neck. His arm is lazily spread over your belly. You don’t dare move, fearing he’ll wake up. 

What would you even say?

This is a disaster. You somehow ended up in Oliver’s room and…had sex with him. 

You swallow a shaky sob as your gaze travels low. Your panties are torn, which you didn’t notice last night. At least your clothes can still be worn, lying in a messy heap at the bottom of the bed. Carefully, you writhe your way out of Oliver’s hold and grab your clothes. 

You hastily put your skirt and shirt back on, trying not to cry when you realize you’re going to have to walk back to your dorm without your knickers. Heat rushes to your cheeks. 

You toss a glance behind you, relieved when you find him still sleeping soundly. 

You climb off the bed. Your heart leaps when the mattress squeaks as you rise. 

Pulse quickening, you head for the door. 

Pain radiates through your lower body when you move. You stagger the rest of the way, constantly tugging on your short skirt as you pray not to encounter any strong gust of wind on the way back.

Before leaving,  you look back. 

Oliver’s still sprawled on his side on the bed but his eyes are wide open now. 

No word leaves his mouth as he studies you in silence.

A wide, lazy smile slowly unfans on his lips. 

Your blood turns to ice. Fumbling with the doorknob, you scurry outside the door.

Once you’re outside, you slam the door closed.

You dart panicked glances around the corridor. Relief fills you when you note that it’s empty. For now. It won’t be long before students start milling about.

You shamefully return to your dorm. The entire walk back, paranoia lurks at the edge of your mind. You keep wondering if every stranger you come across can tell what you did.

And you keep hoping not to run across anyone you know.

When you reach your bedroom, you lock the door. You make a beeline for the bathroom. You need a shower, expeditiously. Oliver’s smell still lingers on you. When you catch your disheveled reflection in the bathroom mirror, you’re shocked. You approach the mirror on unsteady legs. You crane your neck, your fingertips skimming over the two puncture wounds on your neck. A cool wave ripples down your back. It’s twisted. You feel like a character in a Polidori’s tale. Except this is reality somehow.

The one where you have to face the fact that you shagged your boyfriend’s new friend…and you’re not even entirely sure that you wanted it. Your mind throbs as you search through your memories. You changed your mind midway through. Oliver did not care.

Oliver did not care…

The ghastly realization has you keel over the toilet bowl to empty the meagre contents of your stomach. You slump to the floor and start quivering over the bathroom floor.

A sudden knock on your door has you rising from the floor.

Your heart skips a beat when you glance through the peephole.

“F-Felix?” you stutter, panic hitting a peak inside you.

His deep voice penetrates through the door.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. 

He sounds heartbroken, desperate. You almost unleash a sigh. You recognize this. You’ve been there before. This is a rollercoaster you can never get off of, the thrill when you’re high up entirely too intoxicating.

“Right now is not the best time.”

He heaves out a deep sigh. You can literally picture his kicked puppy expression, even with the door between you two. Your heartstrings flutter as you lean against the door. The craving to toss yourself in his arms wars with the sizzling betrayal still sitting in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck. Are you still mad at me?”

Swallowing the surge of tears, you reply, “No. Just feeling a bit rough. Had a tad too much to drink last night.”

“I could take care of you…”

You nibble your lip. It’s tempting. He’s done it before. Bought you pastries and showered you with kisses and cuddles until you got better. When he wants, Felix can be the perfect boyfriend. When he wants.

“No,” you say firmly. “What do you want, Felix?”

“Can’t you just let me in, just for a minute, babe?” His pleading inflection shatters your meek fences.

“The park. In two hours,” you concede. “I got microeconomics right now, can’t miss it.”

“Thank you. Thank you.”

He’s overjoyed. You can’t bear it anymore. You race back to the bathroom as another wave of queasiness engulfs your insides.

Jittery steps lead you through the park as you rejoin him under an oak tree. You spent the last hour in class totally unfocused, your chest tight as you dreaded how this conversation would go.

“Felix,” you greet.

He wraps his arms around you. You remain still in his embrace, the distinctive scent of his cologne floating around you. You feel sick. Now it doesn’t remind you of Felix anymore.

“I really missed you.”

“Didn’t seem like it,” you mumble coolly.

His long exhale tickles your shoulder. “I know. I’m a wanker.”

“More like a selfish arsehole.”

His hold on you slackens as he draws back a little.

A look of hurt and shock covers his face. He isn’t used to you speaking to him so harshly. To him, you’ve only ever been sweet and forgiving. His brows crumple.

“I deserve that.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Listen I… I almost did something awful last night.”

“What thing?” You fiddle with the scarf around your neck. It’s the sole last minute resort you found to conceal the mark decorating your throat.

Of course you know exactly what thing Felix is referring to. You saw it with your own eyes, that thing. If it weren’t for that, you may not be a complete wreck today.

“Doesn’t matter, cause I stopped. It’s not who I want to be anymore.” He cups your face, warm brown gaze diving into yours. “You make me better.”

Words leave your mouth without forethought.

“Who was it this time?”

He hesitates, his jaw tensing. But beneath your heavy stare, he finally caves in.

“It was Annabel.”

“Oh.”

The knife inside your chest twists. It’s one thing to know, to have seen. It’s another to hear it confirmed from your boyfriend’s own mouth. Last night wasn’t some dragged out nightmare; it was reality. When you turn your head, Felix pivots it back to him. 

Sincerity vibrates in his tone. 

“I ended up kicking her out though.” He wipes the single tear that spills down your cheek. “All I could think about was you, the entire time.” He strokes your face. “You’re the only one for me, babe. This is the last time. I’ve never felt this way about anyone. Fuck…” 

You spot something you never heard in Felix’s voice before. Fear. And instantly, you break. 

He leans his forehead against yours.

“I love you,” he states.

You’re dumbstruck. Those words have crossed Felix’s lips at least a thousand times. He’s said them to so many, even strangers…but never to you. 

He came close a few times, but never has he been this clear, firm, his meaning unmistakable. Butterflies swarm your stomach. 

“I love you,” he repeats.

Felix plants a feverish kiss on your lips, leaving them tingling when he releases you. 

“I love you too,” you whisper as your hot breaths mingle.

A sunny smile breaks out on his face.

“No more lies from now on.”

A sinking feeling spreads through you, but you ignore it, returning his smile.

“No more lies,” you echo. Guilt eats at you the second you utter the words.

Felix’s attention veers from you as he waves at someone behind you.

“Hey, Ollie,” he shouts.

The air around you plummets to a few degrees. You go still against Felix, nudging a shaky smile onto your lips.

“I need to go to class,” you chime. 

You don’t even turn around, his presence alone sending your senses into alert.

Confusion scrunches Felix’s features.

“Your next class isn’t for another hour.”

You pat his chest, willing yourself to sound more cheerful than you feel.

“Just got some studying to catch up on beforehand.”

Felix’s fingers cling to yours as you try to leave. 

“I’ll see you tonight at the pub?”

“Sure.”

He doesn’t let you go until you give him another lengthy kiss. You’re uncomfortable, the weight of a certain somebody’s stare drilling holes into your back.

Things recede to relative normalcy, in some ways better than before, and in others worse. Better because of your relationship with Felix. It improves tremendously. He dotes on you more than he ever has, showering you with gifts and small attentions.

Worse because he’s still there, his unsettling presence the dark cloud over your rekindled romance. Each time you’re forced to be around him, there’s a knowing, smug glint dancing in his eyes, a subtle smile tugging his lips skywards. Perpetual fright eclipses your happiness, all because of Oliver Quick.

What if he told Felix everything? This was a mistake and you’re fairly sure you tried to stop it. You still have nightmares about that night, the way he held you down and wrapped his hand around your neck, stealing your air and ability to defend yourself.

You were helpless. Even letting Felix touch you is hard now, the memory of what Oliver did to you seeping through the cracks whenever you expect it least.

He branded you. And while the marks on your body may have faded, the ones engraved on your soul won’t vanish so easily.

It’s a blessing when Felix finally grows bored with him. You have no idea how it occurred. You simply know that they seem stitched at the hip for months then, suddenly, Oliver is gone. Felix shows up at group meetups without him and stops mentioning him altogether.

As if he took an eraser and wiped him from existence. Just like he did to Eddie back in the day.

You’re relieved…for an ephemeral while alas.

Oliver’s dad's abrupt passing changes everything overnight. 

Once more, Felix feels the need to be Oliver’s knight in shining armor. 

And once more the two of them are inseparable. Two peas in a pod.

You elect to take some distance. While you understand that Felix wants to help him, it doesn’t mean you have to. Thankfully, with summer fastly approaching, you won’t have to bear with Oliver Quick for much longer.

As usual, James and Elspeth urged you to come spend the summer at Saltburn, particularly Elspeth who couldn’t stop gushing about what a gorgeous couple you and Felix are. And while you may have tried to decline every other year, finding his family to be an awful lot, this year is different. This year, more than ever before, you long for an escape. 

Even the pits of hell would be a suitable vacation spot if it meant not having to run across Oliver Quick for two whole months. 

It’s a thrilling prospect. These days you can’t be around Felix as much because being around him means being around Oliver, and you just can’t do it. You look forward to having your boyfriend all to yourself. All day long, you dream about lazy afternoons by the pool and cloud-gazing in the grassy fields.

These are the balmy thoughts floating through your mind as you return to your dorm that day after classes end. A carefree smile decorates your face. You can’t wait to finish packing your suitcase. You saved every penny from your part-time job to buy a new swimsuit. And while it made a small dent in your savings, imagining Felix’s face the first time he’ll see you in it makes the tiny sacrifice worth it. 

But the smile on your lips dies when you cross the door to your bedroom. Your jaw drops, the stack of books in your hands crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

“What are you doing here?” you whisper. You shrink against the door, maintaining as wide a distance as the small room allows.

Oliver doesn’t even spare you a glance, casually lying on your bed with one knee bent like it’s his.

“Your taste in books. A bit of a letdown I gotta say, luv,” he says, flipping the yellowed pages of one of your favourite novels.

You lick your lips. “Look, I’m sorry about your dad…but you can’t be here.” He doesn’t leave your bed, engulfed in his reading. Your brows knit. “Get out of my room, Oliver,” you repeat, folding your arms as you approach the bed.

His cobalt gaze finally settles on you. He places the book on the night table, slow and unhurried as he gets to his feet.

Your pulse soars as he inches closer.

“Or what? You’ll scream?” he challenges. He circles you, gauging you in a way that summons a picture of a lion stalking its prey in your head. Your blood curdles when Oliver’s breath caresses your nape. “Then you’ll have to explain what I’m doing in your room and make a scene.” His voice lowers to a taunting rasp. “Do you want to make a scene?”

Your voice comes out shaky. “What do you want?”

Oliver takes a deep breath while placing his hands on your shoulders. His thumbs trace a slow path along the column of your neck. His lips graze your earshell.

“I want you to come over here, lie on this bed and spread your legs like a good girl for me.” You suck in a sharp breath. His fingers drag down your arm as he adds, “I’m feeling…peckish.”

When you don’t move, he releases a deep sigh. 

“...Or I can tell Felix everything.”

Your heart starts hammering in your chest. “What?” you exhale, spinning to face him. 

Oliver smiles. 

“You guys are great right now. He says you’re the best you’ve ever been. No more lies. No more secrets.” Oliver bends close to you, his smile expanding. “How do you think he’ll react when I tell him that we fucked…” He pauses and you hold your breath. “And that you’ve lied to him about your family this entire year.” 

Goosebumps spread across your flesh. You stumble back, your eyes practically bulging out of their sockets. “H-How do you know about that?”

He doesn’t answer. Instead, Oliver takes small steps forward, causing you to retreat until the back of your knees hit the edge of the mattress. He places his hands on each side of you. His  gaze traces the motion of your neck as you swallow the lump in your throat.

“I…It’s not the right time of the month right now,” you lamely offer. 

Oliver’s blue eyes rise as he sinks to his knees in front of you. Tingles bounce over your skin as he rolls your plaid skirt up your thighs.

“And you think it’s something I’m worried about?”

A moan tears from your throat when he buries two fingers inside your core without a warning.

“From now on when I tell you to spread your legs for me, you do as I say,” Oliver informs, his fingers curving inside you. You choke on your breath. “Don’t make me repeat myself. Do you understand?” The threat laced in his tone scatters ice in your veins.

“Y-Yes.”

“Yes, Oliver,” he corrects.

“Yes…Oliver,” you sputter, legs tensing as his digits reach deeper inside you.

“I’m sure it’ll be a summer to remember.”

Between uneven breaths, you stammer, “W-What do you mean?”

He strokes under your thigh absently.

“Oh didn’t Felix tell you?” He bends over you to whisper in your ear. “I’ve been invited to Saltburn, as a guest.”

When Oliver leans away, he’s smiling from ear to ear. Excitement sways in his cobalt orbs as he studies your crestfallen expression. 

“I know. I’m looking forward to it too.” 

[callme-holly]

Hello!! Maybe you could write headcannons with the gang that have a s/o who’s getting picked on? Thank you!!

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐒/𝐎 𝐖𝐡𝐨’𝐬 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐏𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐎𝐧

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - I go back to school in like 2 days... yay, im so thrilled... Also I'm so sorry this took be so long to get to, my inbox is crazy right now but I swear I will get to everyone eventually !! Anyways, hope ya'll enjoy and as always my asks are still open for requests!!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 864 words

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 - mentions of being jumped and fighting, that's it

Darry Curtis - 

If Darry found out you were getting picked on by someone, he would go mental

Like he’d be pissed

He’d instantly want to know who it is who’s giving you trouble 

If it’s the socs bothering you you best believe he’s walking everywhere with you 

His concern would go through the roof 

Darry doesn’t strike me as a typically violent person but if whoever is bothering you decides to jump you/cause you any physical harm, you best believe he’s starting something 

If you’re upset, please let him take care of you, it’ll help calm him down somewhat

Sodapop Curtis - 

If Soda finds out someone’s giving you trouble, he’ll instantly feel guilty

He takes it as his job to look after you and by someone hurting you either physically or verbally, he can’t help but feel like he’s let you down a little

He’ll get Steve to track down whoever it is who’s picking on you; you won’t have to worry about them anymore <33

He’ll cuddle with you for ages to try and make you feel better (although it’s mainly to help reassure himself that you’re okay) 

Much like Darry, Soda will walk you everywhere

This boy will not risk leaving your side and if anyone so much as looks your way, he’s giving them a dirty look and pulling you in the opposite direction 

Ponyboy Curtis - 

Pony will feel horrible and a little annoyed when you tell him you’re getting picked on

If it’s the socs giving you trouble, he’s mad

He’ll walk you to and from places and will try to comfort you best he can

If it’s kids from school, he’s got your back 

Pony will defend your case no matter what and if someone so much as says anything about you, he’s shutting them down with some smart comment real fast

And if you get jumped? Oh boy, he feels awful 

He knows what it’s like to get jumped first hand and he’d never wish it upon anyone

He’d get Dallas to have a “word” with whoever it is bothering you and chances are, you won’t see them again after that 

Johnny Cade - 

Johnny gets so upset when he hears that someone is picking on you but he also gets really angry 

Like, you don’t deserve anything bad that comes to you and he will do anything to protect you

I feel like people really down-play his character like, come on ya’ll, he literally stabbed someone to protect his friend 

If he sees someone giving you grief, he’s standing up for you 

He wouldn’t start a fight, no, but he’s definitely let them know what's up

If you get jumped, he’d comfort you in a heartbeat <33 

You two have got the whole gang backing you both up, so there really isn’t anything to worry about when you’re with Johnny 

Dallas Winston - 

Oh, Dallas… 

When he finds out you’re being picked on, he’s asking for names, appearances, addresses - you name it, this boy wants it

He will fight for you and he will make sure that whoever it is that’s bothering you, learns their lesson

And if you get jumped? He’s arranging a rumble and dragging in the Shepard gang to back him up

He’d walk you everywhere, and I mean everywhere

If you think he’s leaving your side for even a second, you’ve got another thing coming 

He’s got an arm around your waist, your shoulders, his hand in your back pocket and if anyone so much as talks to you, he’s standing behind you, glaring them down

He’s defending you in a heartbeat, no matter who the person is that's giving you grief 

Needless to say, nobody messes with Dallas Winston’s girl, and he’s willing to let everyone know just that 

Steve Randle

Much like Dallas, Steve is asking for names almost instantly 

He will not hesitate to fight someone for you

He gets so defensive on your behalf and will become insanely protective over you

If someone has said or done something to you that really bothered you, he’s comforting you and going after the person in a heartbeat

You’re his number one priority and he wants you to be happy at all times 

You think he’s leaving your side? Nope, no chance

He’s gonna be one step behind you at all times and if he catches anyone giving you problems, they’re in for a rough time 

I’m telling you, he’s shooting everyone dirty ass looks 

If someone so much as says “hello” to you, Steve will be coming up behind you 

“this person giving you trouble, babe?” 

He’s just looking out for you 

Two-bit Mathews - 

The second you tell Two-but you’re being picked on, he’s smothering you with love

He’s not letting you go at all 

He doesn’t want anyone making you think you’re worth less than you are 

Secretly, he’s super pissed that someone would even think to mess with you and if he sees them, he won’t hesitate to confront them 

He’s taking you everywhere you need to go, no complaints <3 

If you get jumped, he will not hesitate to help fix you up before tracking down whoever hurt you

𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬!!

[halbravd]

love in a band aid box // aib boys.

summary: you’re the (unofficial) nurse at the beach but everyone comes to see you when they seek medical care, and maybe it’s not just because you’re a nurse, if you know what i mean.

in other words: the boys have a crush on you and express it their own way.

characters: chishiya shuntaro, niragi suguru, arisu ryohei and aguni morizono.

⪧ chishiya shuntaro,

as a doctor himself, he can’t help but being drawn to you since day one. and the fact that you’re so smart, always right about anything medically-related, has him even more curious and interested. most of the time he’d remain silent, checking whatever you’re doing from afar — he didn’t even tell you he was a doctor in real life, hell, he probably never really talked to you in the first place. he’s just like your own shadow, never too close yet never too far either, amazed by how you treat everyone the same. there’s no such thing as a ‘more important human being’, and you couldn’t care less about ranks within the beach. chishiya admires this side of you ever so dearly, and maybe one day, he’d gather enough courage to thank you for your remarkable work here.

⪧ niragi suguru,

this child right here would always pretend to be ill just to see you. a light scratch on his arm? what if it gets worse after a few days. imaginary headaches? every fucking day. worst of all: he’d lie and tell you hatter forced him to come here to get a quick check up, pretending it’s a waste of his precious time. and when you’re cleaning his wounds or doing whatever has to be done, he can’t help but stare, completely silent. maybe it’s because it’s the first time someone’s willing to help him, maybe it’s because he never felt such warmth before, but he would definitely throw himself off the nearest window if that means he could spend some time alone with you. don’t expect a thank you though, that man is a brat and he’s emotionally constipated anyway.

⪧ ryohei arisu,

arisu is… arisu. always injured, always something going on in his life. at this point, you know everything about him, and he’s like your bestie. he’d just knock at your door (when usagi isn’t carrying him on her fucking back) and you’re like ‘not AGAIN’ because it’s like the fourth time that week. he’s also a huge baby, always whining when you clean his wounds, trying to move his arm or leg away any chance he gets so you won’t ‘hurt him again’ (those are his own words).

⪧ aguni morizono,

aguni could be on the verge of dying, he’d never ask for help. that’s just how stubborn he is — and this is the reason why you decided to visit him every time he’d return from a game. he’d never admit how much he enjoys your visits, always pretending to be fine and hiding his injuries the best he can just not to see that worried look plastered all over your face — aguni loves when you smile, when he makes you laugh. but when you’re standing there with teary eyes, biting the inside of your cheek because the wounds he gets are getting more and more severe, he just feels like he’s dying a little bit more every single time.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

my girl 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as possible age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your brother’s friend from work starts hanging out a lot more often. (short!reader)

Characters: Captain Syverson

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

You drive your mom to the airport while your dad and brother are at work. You’re sad to see her walk away. You wait until she’s through the security check and you can no longer see her. The ride home is silent as you’re too upset to turn the stereo on. 

You pull up to the house and stay in the car for a while. It will be weird to go into an empty house. It isn’t that unusual. When your mom’s at work, you’re often by yourself. Usually, you bask in the solace but not it’s just grim. You don’t feel like reading so much as the thought ties a knot in your heart. 

How long had you spent bound by the pages of a book when you should’ve been with your mom? She won’t be gone that long but it feels like it. 

You go inside at last and decide to get dinner started. Your mother always enjoys her time in the kitchen. Often her singing made you frown into your book but now you long for it. Grow up! She’s not been gone for more than two hours and you’re pouting like a child. 

You peruse the pantry and the fridge and finally come up with a plan. It shouldn’t be that intensive. You’ll get the ingredients together but you won’t have to start right away. Fajitas are easy enough. 

You go back to your room and sit on your bed. You glance over at the book sitting by your pillow and sigh. You twiddle your fingers then stand and pace listlessly. You can’t focus on fiction right now, the real is too... real. 

So, you go outside and sit on the grass, admiring the flowers your mom loves almost as much as her food processor. One day you might be like her. With actual hobbies instead of escapism. 

You lay down in the warmth of the sun, the smell of pollen and the buzz of bees around you. You shade your face from the bright afternoon and recede into your mind. The summer heat lulls you down into daze and time fades into an afterthought. 

You swear you smell pepperoni as you nose wiggles in the breeze. You sigh. The thought of cooking in this weather only makes you sweat more. 

“Y’okay?” The deep grizzly timbre makes you fling your hand away from your face as you blink up at the great orcish shadow. You sit up, leaning on the heels of your hand as you gape up at the burly beast. Sy’s figure comes clear as your vision adjusts to the hue, “what’re you doin’ down there?” 

“Um,” you blink dumbly, “sorry, I... hi?” 

“You hurt or something?” He wonders, his eyes searching you with concern. 

“No, I just... like the flowers,” you say, “where’s Isaac?” You look towards the fence then back at him. 

“Said he was comin’,” he grits, “stoppin’ at some buddy’s place but I said I’d meet him here.” 

“Ah, you coming for dinner? My mom left today.” 

“I know,” he puts his hands on his hips. Somehow, he looks even bigger, especially looking up from the ground. “Good lady. I brought pizza. It’s on the porch. Figure you’d be missin’ her.” 

“Pizza? You didn’t have to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” he moves closer and you tense, shying away. 

He grunts as he bends, putting his hand on the grass and swings himself around to sit beside you. Now he just seems gargantuan. He crosses his thick legs and looks up through his dark sunglasses. His cheeks tauten as he peers up at the clouds. 

“When I was overseas,” he says, “used to watch the sky a lot. Reminded me of home. Only thing that was the same.” 

You peer up and back down. You don’t have sunglasses. You always lay in the shade or read indoors. 

“Overseas?” You echo, “you... you lived somewhere else?” 

“Served,” he sets his head straight, toying with a dandelion by his boot, swirling his finger around the yellow head, “you know, young and angry and all. Now I’m just old and cranky.” 

You consider him. You guess he looks like a solider. Maybe that’s why you keep seeing a beastly warrior. 

“It must’ve been... well, I wouldn’t know,” you say, “scary?” 

“Could be, but only after,” he says. You don’t think he’s ever talked so much. “When you’re in it, you just get through it.” 

“Oh.” 

He’s quiet and he picks the dandelion out of the ground. He twirls it between his fingers. He looks over at you but you can’t see his eyes through the black lenses. 

“Sweet girls shouldn’t deal with all that,” he reaches over and tucks the flower behind your ear.  

You’re frozen in place at the unexpected gestures. He grunts as he gets himself to his knees and stands. He rubs his lower back and stretches out his neck. 

“I’ll get those pizzas inside before the ants find ‘em,” he marches away without a glance back, leaving you perplexed at your interaction. You’re no good with people but that was odd. 

You linger and touch the stem of the flower poking out behind your ear. You don’t remove it. It was a nice gesture. You get up and cross the lawn. 

You go inside and hear him in the kitchen. As you enter, he’s washing his hands. You peer over at him sheepishly. 

“How long do you think Isaac would be? My dad’s getting drinks with his friends tonight. He always does on Friday.” 

“Ah, not long, I think. We can wait for him,” Sy shuts off the tap and dries his hands. “I finished the book.” 

“You... did?” 

“Gonna start the next one tomorrow,” he says, “day off. Might go down to the beach. Ain’t been in... years. Don’t like hot sand.” 

Again, you’re put off by his chatter. He’s never been overly talkative, not even with your brother who he spends hours with a day. He’s always friendly with a ‘ma’am’ or a ‘sir’ in your parents’ direction but you don’t know anything about him for a reason. You wonder if Isaac knows he was a soldier. 

“That sounds nice, I haven’t been in a while either,” you smile. 

He nods and moves towards the pizza boxes, “I can put these in the oven, keep em warm.” 

“Sure, if you don’t mind,” you accept. “Um, I’ll set the table.” 

He grunts in acquiescence. You go to the cupboard and take down plates. Not as many as usual. You’re once more reminded of your mother’s absence. 

You put them on the table and go back for cutlery. Realising you won’t need any, you grab paper towel instead and leave it with the plates. You open the fridge as Sy hovers by counter. He seems uncertain. 

“You don’t need to stick around. Unless you want something to drink. I was just seeing what we had to go with dinner.” 

“Ah, dang, I forgot to grab the special with soda,” he says. 

“All good, um, I... I have strawberry soda. Mom bought them for me,” you take out one of the bottles and show him, “they are super sweet thought. I mix mine with club soda.” 

He hums, “might try some. With dinner.” 

“Alright,” you close the door, confident there’ll be enough to drink. Isaac only likes Mountain Dew anyway. “Erm...” 

You face him and he wavers on his feet. For a man his size, he looks almost nervous. He takes his hat off and squeezes the beak. 

“Sorry, should be wearin’ this inside,” he chuckles. 

“I don’t mind.” 

Silence. Again. You reach up and mindlessly play with the flower. He watches your hand and you drop it. 

“What... what are you reading? Anything good?” He asks. 

“Um, nothing new,” you answer and fold your hands together, “that bookmark you made me is super nice. I like it a lot.” 

“Figure you could use it.” 

“Thanks, it was so... nice of you to think of me.” 

His cheeks round and his cheeks strain as a smile spreads under his beard and he runs his hand over the coarse hair, “ain’t nothing.” He looks around as he slides his hand back to scratch his neck, “how about I go keep an eye out for your brother. Hope he didn’t get lost.” 

[actiniumwrites]

LOVE NO MORE

synopsis: you painfully watch as they fall out of love with you

characters: venti, scaramouche, ayato, alhaitham, dottore, lyney, arlecchino, and clorinde x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: pure angst, hurt no comfort, breakups, mistreatment, poor communication, etc.

notes: customers at my work place have been pissing me off so enjoy some full angst

Venti:

begins like a small breeze and ends like powerful winds strong enough to fuel a storm

he laughs off moments when you ask if everything is okay, not quite sure of his own feelings yet

there’s a strange glint in his eyes when he sees you, one that looks like he always wants to run

and he does — always run, that is

he avoids you for a few days, which then turn into a few weeks

and you know he isn’t busy because you know him

starts to drink even more when he fully comes to terms with it, realizing he doesn’t have any love left in him for you anymore

and only then does he finally tell you the truth

Scaramouche:

turns bitter again

he doesn’t want to hurt you, but he can’t bring himself to tell you that he can’t feel anything for you anymore

so he starts to make you hate him or feel guilty for being with him by telling you how much you’d be happier with someone else or that you shouldn’t waste your time with him

but you still love him, so you reassure him you don’t want anyone else but him

and he gets angry because, why can’t you see it? why can’t you see he doesn’t feel anything for you anymore?

so he snaps one day. not at you, never at you, because he could never do that

he gets angry because he should’ve just told you the truth instead of driving you away from him entirely and leaving your relationship on a bad note

writes a letter and takes his things with him. although he knew you didn’t deserve to find out like that, something in him couldn’t bear to see just how upset you’d be with him

Ayato:

pulls away slowly

you don’t even notice anything is amiss at first

he keeps himself busier than he already was, locking himself in his office for hours

takes up any chance to go on business trips or even international trips

truthfully, he’s afraid because he’s never fallen out of love with someone like this before, and he has absolutely no idea what to do about it

in the times that he is with you, he keeps himself distanced: won’t place a hand on you, or even tell you he loves you when you walk out the door

when you confront him about it all, he just breaks and tells you he’s sorry and won’t even try to hold you back as you walk away with tears

Alhaitham:

doesn’t realize it himself at first

he’ll begin by taking more time to himself, not really realizing how much more he enjoys it

returns home late and barely eats dinner with you, saying he already had some at work or doesn’t have an appetite

one day, the word love comes up in a book he’s reading and his first thought goes to you

but it makes him sit and think about his relationship with you and how much time has passed and how he feels about it all

and then he just has a moment of realization

he won’t linger around or beat around the bush, but will instead come home and simply tell you he doesn’t love you anymore

no real reason as to why. things just aren’t the same

and he’ll leave it at that, not caring to see your reaction or if you have objections. it was nice while it lasted, but he’s ready to move on

Dottore:

gets really weird about it

snappier, always on edge, and constantly occupied by his work

he won’t let you sit in his lab anymore or bother him with stories about your day

he’ll make excuses at first, not entirely sure if he’s in a weird mood or truly does not love you anymore

leaves you alone a lot more often too: no more dinners together or time spent away from the fatui

he won’t even touch you anymore either

when he comes the conclusion that he indeed does not love you anymore, he tells you on the spot

similar to alhaitham, he won’t stick around to see your reaction either. not even a glance back.

Lyney:

similar to venti in the sense that he becomes really avoidant

always laughing things off or covering up his feelings with a painfully fake smile

he gets less clingy; pulling your hand out of his, not hugging you constantly, and sitting further away whenever you were next to one another

places more focus on his magic and helping the fatui than spending time with you so he won’t have to face his feelings

he’ll feel really guilty too, but just can’t bring himself to hurt you

ends up making it worse, of course

his heart breaks when you show up in tears at the doorstep of the house of hearth, but he can’t pretend to love you any longer

Arlecchino:

everything feels weird

she’s normally a bit more possessive over you, not in a controlling way, but possessive nonetheless

eventually that just stops

you’re on your own a lot more often

conversations get cut short or they feel bland, like she isn’t really there or clearly doesn’t want to be

she won’t tell you where she’s going or if she’s coming back

and like a lot of the others, she cuts off physical contact too and no longer expresses her love to you verbally

and then one day, she just disappears altogether and you don’t find out until you hear it from someone else

she’d left and took all her love with her

Clorinde:

it’s hard to tell when it comes to clorinde

she’s so quiet and protective over her thoughts that you’d barely notice a change at all

stiffens up when you touch her or call her a pet name

spends more time at the court and leaves you alone in your shared bed during the night to go investigate other matters

conversations are very brief — only a few words before she’s out the door

and one day, out of the blue, she comes home all tired and worn out from work that she just lays it all out

apologizes for treating you so poorly by the end, but knows there’s nothing she can do to bring back the feelings she once had

[animanga-bonanza]

The Magneto/Rogue/Gambit love triangle is great not only because of how #telenovela it is, but because it puts Rogue into a dilemma that forces her to make character-defining choices and grow as a person. It’s classic Want vs Need. Rogue wants physical intimacy, mistakenly believing that it is necessary for love, but needs to realize that real love is so much more than that. “Some things are deeper than skin.”

This is an example of how to do a romantic subplot that serves the narrative and character development. Plus, the chemistry that Rogue has with both Magneto and Gambit feels natural instead of forced (seriously idk how they managed to make Magneto x Rogue genuinely hot).

I know a lot of folks like to argue about the morality of the situation and make it all about Gambit and his hurt feelings, but I find that to be a boring way of looking at it. This subplot isn’t about a man getting his heart broken, it’s about a woman learning about love for the first time.

We gotta remember that Rogue is incredibly inexperienced when it comes to love, and the little experience she does have is colored by pain and regret. The first time she kissed her first boyfriend, her powers almost killed him. That obviously traumatized her. Then she met Magneto, the only person she could safely touch* and explore her sexuality with, but that relationship was never going to pan out for obvious reasons. After that, she was afraid of getting romantically involved with anyone.

Rogue and Gambit maintained a casual flirtation with undercurrents of real passion and yearning for a deeper relationship, but Rogue understandably kept him at a distance — she couldn’t forgive herself if she hurt him. Gambit respected this, and for his part, was afraid of getting into a serious relationship because he felt that he was unworthy.

Magneto is the catalyst who forces Gambit and Rogue to do some necessary introspection and be honest about their feelings, instead of playing this endless game of “will they or won’t they.” For Gambit and Rogue to build something real together, they need to step out of their performative roles as Scoundrel and Cher. Of course it’s messy, and dramatic, and confusing, and frustrating, and heartbreaking. But that’s love. “There is no love without sin.”

In fairness to all three of them, I think they handled the situation as maturely as they could, with honest communication about what they wanted. There’s no deception or manipulation here, just three people trying to navigate a messy and emotionally-charged entanglement.

As for Magneto, I think he genuinely cares for Rogue and loves her in his own way. But I feel like he’s using her to fill the void left in his heart by Charles. I don’t think he’s secretly “evil” or anything like that — but Gambit is right to be skeptical of his motives.

Overall, once Magneto and Gambit come back (AND THEY BETTER COME BACK OR ISTG MARVEL — ), they’ll get necessary closure, and Rogue and Gambit will offically become the power couple they were always meant to be.

*I’ve seen people wonder why Rogue doesn’t wear one of the mutant suppression collars so she can safely touch Gambit. Idk how the comics deal with that issue and I don’t remember if the original 90s cartoon did, but the way I see it, it’s not just about the physical act of touching. It’s about intimacy. Being able to be your full, truest self with another person. Having to wear a collar that was made to oppress your people in order to experience a basic human pleasure would be degrading and take away from that intimacy.

[notjustjavierpena]

Terror

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: By popular demand! This turned awful in my brain very quickly. I know instantly that this won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, so please read the tags before jumping into this. Not everything is fun and games for hubby. 

Summary: Javier doesn’t think that he has nightmares about Colombia anymore until he suddenly does. The difference is that he also has you and the family that you have given him.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, graphic description of gun violence, some gore, PTSD night terrors, major character death (but not really), panic attacks, domestic, cuddles, hurt/comfort, family time, love confessions, pregnant reader dies in this dream

Word count: 2.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54592621

Terror

Javier searches and searches to no avail. He walks with frantic determination between burning cars and bullet shells, occasionally hitting the latter with the tips of his shoes so they go cascading down the asphalt with a clinking sound. He doesn’t trip on them though, as his steps are sure, moving around the chaotic scene of the aftermath of an ambush by grabbing at whatever he can to push himself forward. 

He knows where he is but he doesn’t remember getting here, and he has no clue if he was involved in the shooting that has evidently occurred here. However, when he looks down at himself, he finds no bullet wounds and no tactical gear either. So why does he think that you are here? He yelps as he accidentally grabs the hood of a car that seems to have been burning for a while, the metal so hot that it scorches his skin. The heat radiating from the vehicle makes his body prickle with sweat, his shirt clinging uncomfortably to his skin that is riddled with damp sweat from anxiety. He clutches his burnt hand and continues down the never-ending street. 

Where are you? Where are they? He searches through several empty cars, nearly ripping the doors off of their hinges to get to you quicker. Perhaps you know where they are but he doesn’t even know where you are. 

When he gets to what feels like the hundredth car, finally reaching the end of the road that somehow resembles a labyrinth despite only moving forward, panic has started to rise in his throat. He calls for you but you don’t answer, and then he calls for Lucas in case he has managed to hide himself and his sibling somewhere. 

“Lucas! It’s alright, it’s just me!” He yells out but it’s just the echo of his own voice that answers him, “You can come out now, it’s over, te prome— (I promi—).”

Javier has turned the corner. It is the sight of Horatio Carrillo’s face that makes him realize that this isn’t real. Carrillo is dead, and he has been for nearly twenty years. Javier will never forgive himself for not having been there. He should have been there with everyone. It should have been him; he had had nothing waiting for him back in Laredo. 

In front of him, a row of children and teenagers are kneeling but he doesn’t recognize any of their faces. He has seen this scene before. He remembers doing nothing back then, and the thought is enough to make his gut twist with guilt and nausea even if nothing could have been done to change Carrillo’s attitude towards the kids. He hears a gunshot and a young child falls to the ground, head split open from the way the bullet has torn through soft, young flesh. He flinches in a way that he didn’t back then, in a way that only a man who is a father can. 

Carrillo’s blank and indifferent stare terrifies him to the point where he wishes that he could wake up. It is clear that this is a nightmare, so why hasn’t he woken up yet? Aren’t you supposed to wake up when you have figured it all out? He tries pinching his arm but nothing happens, and the claustrophobia of being stuck in his own head makes his chest constrict and his heart, too big for his rib cage by now, hammer with the speed of a hummingbird’s wings. 

The stare he is watching is not one of being rid of emotion but rather the look that washes over a face when the person it belongs to is dead. His old colleague is standing in front of him in a zombie-like state and Javier cannot shake the feeling that Carrillo looks less like a person and more like a thing. 

“Carrillo,” he says sternly. On the ground, the blood oozes towards his feet and he shifts to avoid it soaking through his shoes. 

His colleague turns to him but doesn’t say anything. He still has the weapon in his hand, arm stretched out, and pointing the gun at the row of innocent children. Javier speaks quietly despite his anxiety, “C’mon, they’re just kids. Look at them; they’re just ki—“

He turns to look at the kneeling figures but the faces aren’t unknown to him anymore. His blood runs cold at the sight of his eldest son who has his arms stretched out to hold Inés close to his body, effectively shielding her from any shot that may be coming at her at any moment. 

“Lucas,” he croaks, “¿Dónde está tu madre (Where is your mother)?”

“I don’t know, Dad,” his son replies, “I’m scared.” 

“I know, don’t worry, I— I’m gonna take care of it,” he replies with a dizzying heartbeat followed by the urge to throw up. 

It’s then that you appear too. His heart skips a beat as you materialize right behind your kids, pregnant with his child and vulnerable as tears stream down your cheeks. Your arms are in front of you, wrapped around your children as you try to protect them while whimpering in a way that makes Javier more than desperate. He tries to sound more assertive than anxious but listening to his own voice, he doesn’t feel very successful. He turns back to Carrillo who hasn’t moved the firearm even an inch, “For fuck’s sake, get that gun away from my family!”

“Están trabajando para Escobar, Peña. Si quieres justicia, entonces esta es la única manera (They are working for Escobar, Peña. If you want justice, this is the only way),” is the only reply he gets. Carrillo spits at the ground.

Javier takes a step forward but suddenly, a shot is fired at his feet and he is forced to jump back with his hands in the air. His eyes are pleading, his voice wavering, “Jesus Christ, Carrillo, they’re not working for him. Put the damn gun down! They’re mine. They are my kids. You’re pointing a gun at my wife!”

Lucas shifts on his spot on the ground. His knees can barely hold himself up anymore, gravel gnawing at his kneecaps but Javier holds out a hand to stop him, “Don’t move, mijo (my son). I know you’re scared but—“

But Lucas’ eyes are wet with terrified tears. He panics, throws himself to the side to crawl away and the ghost of Javier’s previous colleague seems to come to the conclusion that it is too risky to attempt a shot in the boy’s direction in case he misses, so instead—

Javier flinches at the loud sound of the gun going off. You lie on the ground in the next moment. He lets out a cry of anguish, crawling across the gravel road to get to you until his hands are scraped and his knees are dirty. The love of his life and his unborn child.  

“No,” he yells as tears spring from his eyes. He clutches at you whilst you breathe rapidly and try to hold onto him as well but your grip is slowly loosening on him with every beat of your heart. He can see the way your pulse slows in how your clothes soak slower and slower, knows where it is going. You try to say something but he cannot understand it, your voice having been replaced by gurgles of blood, “No don’t try to talk, baby. Shit, I— look, it’s not even that bad. Shh, it’s okay, baby. It’s not even that bad, it’s fine, you’re gonna be fine, mi vida (my life). You and the baby. I promise.” 

The same blank stare as the one that Carrillo sports washes over your face. He says your name over and over, “Mi amor (my love), no, no, look at me. No, no, no no no.”

Inés has started screaming in panic. She’s crying for you in the most heart-wrenching manner, terrified when you don’t react to her words like you always do. Her pitch climbs with each passing second but Javier has no strength to soothe his daughter because he yells your name until it feels like he cannot breathe. 

Lucas yells for his mother in the background. The agony of hearing his children cry mixed with hearing you say nothing is too much for him. He panics, shakes you violently— 

He jolts awake in the next moment to the sound of your voice. Fear still has him in its grip and leaves him disoriented, ready to fight whatever comes his way. He hyperventilates until he feels lightheaded and tries to figure out where he is, beads of cold sweat having collected on his forehead during his restless sleep.

“Javi,” you say with a hand on his shoulder and he whips his head around to face you. A moment ago, your eyes had been glazed over by death.

Immediately, he grabs your wrist in an iron grip. You place your other hand on top of his, speaking softly, “Javier. Let go.”

“Are you alright?” He chokes out and grips you harder, eyes wild in the dimly lit bedroom. He wants to run a million miles, “Are you alright?” 

“I am okay, baby. We’re both safe,” you reassure him with a hand on your pregnant belly. Tears start to roll down his cheeks. He is unable to shake the image of you lying dead on the ground, “Shh…”

“Are you sure?” He whimpers, eyes flickering from your face to your stomach and back to your face again. 

“Yes. It was just a bad dream. It was just a nightmare,” your voice is still ever so gentle and nowhere near the way it had been in his state of terror. He releases the clutch on your arm and you carefully run a hand over his forehead, “Breathe. Hold my hand. Tell me you love me.”

You offer your free hand to him and he carefully takes it, trying to convince himself that you won’t slip away from him in the dark bedroom. You squeeze his hand slightly. It’s a silly thing you came up with years ago. 

“I love you,” he says quietly, already feeling a little better but when you say it back ever so gently, he finds himself bursting into tears. He cries and it is the kind that comes from the very bottom of one’s lungs; frantic and breathy sobs that sound almost painful.

He thought that the nightmares had stopped. They had been bad when he first met you, and he connected it to his decreasing alcohol consumption because back in Colombia, he was sometimes too boozed up to even dream. However, meeting you - marrying you - had been a glimpse into a future where he could get better because you were together. So why does his brain still do this once in a while? 

“Pensé que te había perdido para siempre (I thought I had lost you forever),” he sobs when you engulf him in your arms. He rests his head against your soft chest, grabbing onto whatever he can of you to make sure you are real. It’s only times like these when his strong, broad hands feel unsure on your skin. 

“Oh, baby. I’m right here,” you rock him carefully in a way that a mother does, “I’m not going anywhere, te prometo (I promise you).” 

“No puedo vivir sin ti (I can’t live without you),” he continues. You reassure him that he won’t have to, that by then, someone will have discovered eternal life or made all of you into kind-hearted robots. Despite the chuckle he lets out, you also let him cry for as long as he needs to. 

It takes you a while to calm him down again, resting your chin on top of his head as he lets himself fall into you instead of going out of his mind. He mumbles, “Where are the kids? Where’s Inés?”

“They’re in bed,” you promise him, arms cradling him and rubbing his back until his breathing starts to slow again, “They’re okay. They’re just asleep.”

Except they are not asleep. Your hand stops moving on his back, and he looks up at you to find your eyes on the door. 

“Inés. Lucas. Stop standing at the door,” you say gently. 

“Sorry,” they say in unison.

Relief floods Javier’s system at the sound of his children’s voices. His chest expands as he breathes in deeply for what feels like the first time since he woke up. He watches their little faces, hears the click of the lamp on your nightstand as you turn on the light. 

“Is Daddy okay?” Inés asks carefully. Her eyes tell Javier that he has noticed the tears on her father’s face.

“We heard you yelling,” Lucas elaborates to his father, “Inés didn’t want to go in here alone. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize, sweetie,” your voice is sweet and calm. It is in these moments that he loves you the most; when you prove to be the anchor in any storm, knows that the only times he might actually get a good night's rest is when you are right here beside him. 

“Come here, mis amores (my loves),” he scoots a little away from you to open his arms. His children look uncertain for a moment but then Inés rushes forward to climb into bed and into his embrace. Lucas follows a moment after, the both of them earning a kiss on top of their heads. 

Inés’ eyes are wide as she stares up at him, “Papá, you scared me.”

“I had a bad dream,” he explains to both of them and attempts to smile, pulling them closer to his chest. They make faces as they are squished but he doesn’t let go, “but I’m okay now. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Then why are you crying?” Lucas gets out of the embrace to study his face, shocked to see the tears running down until they drip down from his chin. 

“Daddy! You are crying!” Inés parrots her older brother as she notices too. She kneels in front of her father and tilts her head. 

“I am?” He asks, pretending not to know. Inés’ tiny hand reaches to wipe a few tears away without much success and his heart clenches in his chest with how lucky he feels to have such a beautiful family. 

“It’s okay to cry,” Lucas explains softly, “That’s what Mom says.”

“Alright, let’s give your father some space,” you lock eyes with your husband, cup his cheek for a moment before brushing away the last traces of tears from his face with the back of your hand. He smiles at you and it is completely genuine for the first time. 

“I don’t want to sleep,” Inés protests loudly.

“What if you both sleep in here for the rest of the night?” You bargain whilst still smiling at Javier, however a little more goofily now, “Just for tonight.”

Lucas is already crawling under the covers to cuddle up next to you, and Inés lays down next to her father. It takes a moment of quiet chatter and soothing caresses to make them both fall asleep again, their bodies exhausted from being awake in the middle of the early hours of the morning. 

Javier can’t fall back asleep but from the way you breathe, he can tell that sleep hasn’t found you either.

Outside, the first light of dawn has begun to filter through the curtains. There’s a warmer glow in the room now, and he peeks at you from where he lies, looking like someone catching a glimpse of their crush. 

"I love you," he whispers, his voice barely audible. 

You turn your head to face him and smile tenderly, the morning glow illuminating you from behind. You are so beautiful, he thinks, beautiful and pregnant, and he is so lucky. 

Your voice is filled with genuine happiness, warm and loving. You look down at your sleeping children, place a hand on your bump, and then look back up at him, "We love you too.”

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[gallaghersgal]

THE SPINS, lip gallagher.

c3 of BORDERLINE. lip x bsf!reader (nickname, MK)

character intros; adri & caro

TAGS & WARNINGS → MATURE 18+. mostly angst & hurt/comfort, some fluff. labor & birth mentions (karen), drinking & smoking (🚬+🍃), angry lip, tw for emetophobia; small scene w/ throwing up.

CHAPTER SUMMARY → karen jackson going into labor and stealing your best friend away on new years eve has to be the worst possible outcome of the day. right?

A/N → hi everyone!! thank u sm for keeping up with this little story of mine, i love it dearly!! enjoy the chapter, bc i know something u don't..... mwahahaha 😈

WC → 2.2k

You wait outside the corner store, Chicago winter wind chilling your fingers as you smoke the last cig from the pack of Marlboros Lip left in your car last week. He’s late. Not that Lip is often punctual, but he’s never twenty minutes late for a bagel sandwich and a hard cider. It’s New Year’s Eve. The two of you always pregame for the holiday when you wake up–often late in the day–and you always do it together. Torn between your fake ID for alcohol and your phone to call Lip, you stuff the plastic into your wallet, freeing your hand to dial his number.

New phone. You’d dropped your old one on Christmas. Into Lake fucking Michigan, of all places. You were trying to get a cool picture with your sister. Regardless of how it happened, all your contacts disappeared with your old phone. It’s a good thing you have his number memorized.

The line rings. It rings over, and over, and over again. Lip’s voicemail message plays. You redial. 

“Hey! MK, look I can’t—” he cuts himself off, and you hear muffled rushing behind him like he’s somewhere fluttering with activity.

“Where are you?” you ask. The other end is quiet. Not silent, though. There are muffled voices and a beeping that has your mind swimming. “Lip Gallagher, where the hell are you?” you ask again.

The receiver crackles like he’s shifting it around, followed by a plastic sound. “Listen, uh,” he starts, sounding frustrated. “Kar’s water broke, she’s goin’ into labor. So, I won’t be at Adri’s party t’night.”

You don’t answer at first, too stunned. You’ve been telling yourself there’s no way this is real. No fucking way you were going to watch your best friend throw away his life for a girl he knocked up at seventeen. A girl who treats him like shit.

A girl who isn’t you.

“Kind of a big fuckin’ deal, y’know,” he mutters. 

You hear the dejection in his voice and decide you won’t be the one to ruin his important day. “Go enjoy it, Lip,” you tell him, “I can’t wait to meet your son sometime.”

There’s a smile in his voice when he responds. “Yeah, thanks. I uh- gotta go, text’ya later,” he says quickly, then the line goes silent.

After hanging up the phone you stare across the street in silence. Eventually your feet guide you back to your car, and muscle memory drives you to Adri’s house. You blare music through your speakers, loud enough to drown out any thought. You’re not ready to process it, not until you get a second opinion, maybe a third. One shaking hand on the steering wheel, you dial your sister’s number.

Roughly an hour later you’re sprawled on Adri’s bed, halfway through a pint of your favorite ice cream. “What the fuck,” you complain for the millionth time, because apparently a second and third opinion on the situation didn’t soothe the uneasy feeling deep in your gut. 

“Hey uh, MK?” Adri asks, holding your phone out to you. “You have a text from Mandy.”

Caroline pauses the game she’s playing on Adri’s TV to whip her head around. “Mandy Milkovich?” she asks in disbelief.

You roll your eyes, “yeah it’s Mandy fuckin’ Milkovich, how many Mandys do we know huh?” Adri crowds behind you as you tap the notification, reading the words in silence. 

Mandy: micks said ian told him the babys asian Mandy: so, not lips kid Mandy: this is a shitshow

Adri mutters ‘oh shit’ and Caro clambers up into the bed, taking your phone to read for herself. You barely notice her, it’s like the world is silent as your mind spins. “I-I have to go, I have to–” you stumble over your words, but Adri grabs your arm. “I have to make sure he’s okay.”

Adri stares you down, keeping you in her grip. You try to pull away but shes strong. “He isn’t your responsibility, you don’t have to fix him.”

Caro giggles, and you glare, pushing her off the corner of Adri’s bed. You snatch your phone back from the mattress, but Adri takes it from your hand immediately. “No, you’re not letting a Gallagher boy ruin our new year’s eve.”

Lip doesn’t remember how he ended up at Adri’s. He downed two shots in the kitchen with a girl in a sparkly skirt, her hand kept landing on his chest but he didn’t respond to her advances. He’s not sure how he got outside either, he just knows his fingers are ice cold in spite of the whiskey coursing through his veins. He’s not sure when you came outside either, stumbling a little down your own stairs as you rush to him with a coat. All he knows is that he wants a smoke.

“It’s freezing! What the fuck are you doing out here?” You hurry to his side and wrap his bare arms in the coat. His fingers shake, and you attempt to take both of his hands in your own.

“Havin’ a smoke,” he explains, jerking his hands away in favor of the pack of Marlboros in his pocket. “Y’got a light?”

You’re worried, seeing the way his fingers fumble with the pack. He’s so far gone. Feeling a wave of protectiveness and pity wash over you, you nod. You remove one glove to flick your lighter, lighting the cigarette that hangs from his lips. He takes a deep drag, blowing the smoke out before passing it to you. Pursed lips make room for the filtered end, and warm smoke fills your lungs. Fuck, you can taste the whiskey on it. You’re doubtful he’ll even remember where he is in the morning. 

You smoke down half of the cig while Lip stands next to you, shaky hands shoved in his pockets and neck craned toward the sky. It’s not like he can see anything, not with the lights of the city. You’re not sure why he’s doing it at all. You nudge him gently, passing back the cigarette.

He takes the thing between his fingers, gesturing towards the sky. Worried hands hover near his sides but he keeps his balance. “No fuckin’ stars,” he grumbles, “who’d want to grow up like that, huh?”

“We grew up like that,” you remind him cynically. Your stomach twists, not  “Lip, look at me. What happened?”

Teary blue eyes meet your gaze. One shaking hand brings the cig to his lips, inhaling a slow drag. He blows the smoke away from your face, then drops it on the ground. 

“‘S almost midnight,” Lip slurs, hooking an arm around your waist and pointing to the large bay window looking in on your living room. The TV shows the times square ball starting it’s descent. Sixty seconds. “I-I was gonna kiss m’son… at midnight. Fuck—“ he stumbles, tugging you with him. 

You plant your feet down, hands gripping his sides to keep him steady. “How much did you drink?”

“As much as I fucking wanted,” he snaps. Forty-five. “Thought I was havin’ a baby with a girl I love, a-an’ she let some other fuckin’ guy knock her up.” He looks at you with teary eyes, and you realize you’ve never seen him this upset. 

A worse friend would’ve said I told you so.

“Hey, hey,” you urge, one hand grasping his chin. He still clings to you, arm locked on your middle to keep himself up. “Lip, in a year she won’t even cross your mind. It’ll b-“

You’re silenced when he shouts at you. “Don’t! Don’t start with the ‘it’ll pass’ bullshit.” Thirty. His arm circles you closer, getting in your face to prove a point. Maybe he’s trying to scare you, defending his heart how he’s been taught. “It all comes an’ fuckin’ goes, I get it!” Twenty.

“I’m not going anywhere Lip. Okay?” Your hands move to grip his shoulders, keeping his attention on you. Ten. You repeat yourself, softer this time. “I’m not going anywhere. You’ve got me, and you’ve got a future. Forget her.”

Five. Four. Three. Two. 

Lip looks at you with hazy blue eyes. Before you know what’s happening, his lips are on yours.

One.

His arm curls around your back, fingers clutching the fabric of your dress. He tastes like whiskey and smoke, his features etched with regret when he pulls back for air. “Don’t you ever leave me,” he pleads against your lips, voice a low growl.

Maybe it’s the seltzers you’ve downed tonight, maybe it’s the desperate sound of his voice, but you find yourself kissing Lip Gallagher again. It’s a messy affair, his teeth knocking against your own. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about it before, of course you have. You spend nearly every day with him, your friendship always teetering on the edge of something more but never quite tipping.

Happy fucking New Year.

You should’ve seen it coming. His knees buckling, body bending over as he falls onto the concrete. “Fuck! What the fuck!?” His eyes are barely open, looking up at you for a quick second before he’s spewing god knows how many drinks into the bushes. “Okay, okay. Alright, sleeves up buddy,” you tell him, forcing down the churn in your own stomach to kneel beside him.

His brow shines with sweat, and between gags he manages, “‘m s-so fuckin’ hot,” in a hoarse grumble. You remove the same jacket you’d placed so carefully on his shoulders minutes before. While his body cools down, the nausea subsides enough for Lip to stand with your aid. 

“Come on, inside. Now,” you urge. He has the presence of mind not to protest. Not now, not after everything he’s just put you through. His body remains pliant as you lead him into the now empty kitchen. You bend him over the sink, one hand holds his curls to keep him steady over the basin as you pull out the spray nozzle.

“What’re y’-” he grumbles, but you shush him.

“Gotta rinse y’mouth out,” you murmur. Lip seems barely coherent as he nods. With one finger you test the water temperature, making sure it’s cool enough to maybe wake him up a little. Water spills from the corners of his mouth as you spray it at him, annoyed noises bubbling up from his throat. 

Adri appears at your side, her brow furrowed slightly at the situation. “Fuck, MK, he’s like. Not okay,” she says, teeth worrying her lower lip. 

You shut the water off, helping him stand back up. A simple shake of your head lets Adri know not to push it, and she understands. One of her arms wraps around Lip’s middle, steadying him further. “You’re gonna go upstairs and get some rest,” you tell him.

In his drunken state Lip can barely walk, let alone haul himself up the stairs. When you finally get him to the game room you notice the wet, grass stained knees of his grey sweatpants. The long sleeve tee he’s wearing can’t be comfortable either, the front practically soaked with alcohol. “Need to get you out of these clothes.”

“Don’ got anything,” he responds.

“Fuck,” you curse, leaving Adri to support him so you can dig through your overnight bag. You find your old, loose tee and black sweats, then turn back to Lip. “Okay, well, you’re wearing mine then.”

Adri makes sure he’s standing fine on his own two feet before moving to give you two some privacy. Before leaving she comes to your side, pulling you in for a quick hug. “Gonna go kick everyone out, it’s nearly one. But I’ll be up. Come talk,” she whispers. She steps back to look at you clearly, concern evident on her face. 

“I’m okay AJ,” you whisper back. The tears in your eyes betray you, but she doesn’t say anything.

As you step to his side Lip doesn’t move but he mumbles, “I c’n do it m’self,” when you begin to remove his shirt. You huff in response, rolling your eyes and continuing the motion.

“Yeah, right.” Your knuckles brush his toned stomach, you must be imagining the way he shivers under your touch. It’s like dressing a toddler, but you manage to pull the tee over his head, the fabric clinging to his chest and arms. You keep your gaze towards his face, attempting to be respectful as you untie his sweats. As if you’ve never seen him naked before. But of course that was years ago, when you were kids. Regardless, grey fabric falls to the floor and you use an arm around his waist to keep him steady as he steps into your sweatpants. 

Lip drops his head to your shoulder as you tie the strings for him. Your heart nearly stops. “Tired?” you murmur, hand coming to rub his back instinctively. You can feel his fingers curl into your sides to hold you close. Again, you think how you’ve never seen him like this. Vulnerable, his heart aching. If karma was real, Karen Jackson would have ceased to exist already, from all the shit she’s done to him. But the powers that be are cruel, you know that by now. 

What you don’t know is that your best friend will wake up in the morning with a headache, and no recollection of the night before…

THX 4 READING → this chapter is dedicated to my lovely @carmybrainworms. beta'd by @tinyphantomsalad

[stari-hun]

The love and deepspace male leads are so interesting cause the MC changes with them too?

💫 MC and Xavier ; He’s so soft spoken but still firm with his boundaries. Which is good! Since the MC with him is super mischievous and fun. Like even in his bunny costume he literally KNEWWWWWWW we were up to something when we looked at the tail he was SCARED he knew full well the things we get up to. He’s very chill so she’s much more upbeat around him and excitable. Not that she’s not peppy with everyone else but it’s more like since she trusts Xavier to have her back so she’s more reckless than with anyone else. He also gives the vibe of more watching over her as well which makes sense from the backstory and anecdotes since that’s what he’s done for so long. It’s better for angst potential that he always gives the MC his entire heart every time they meet again but he still stays in a loyal knight position to her.

🐚 MC and Rafayel ; This time HES the menace so she takes more of role of supervisor to the chaos. Her innate personality hasn’t changed and she still has her moments of yeah let’s be chaotic together but it’s very chaotic neutral x chaotic neutral. She isn’t apprehensive to cause a mess anymore but she’s still aware that Rafayel is completely likely to get into a mess he can’t handle if he reins free. They have the confidence in each other to survive but they want the best for each other. He’s a constant sass and flirts with her all the time, and he’s kinda switched with Xavier where he flirts so much that when Raf is more open it’s more surprising.

- Both of the dynamics really take on a real life feel to it? Like obviously the MC is still written like a main character and she definitely is written like she’s aware she won’t be hurt by the world too badly or at least not die until it’s not time in that protag kinda way. But MC code switches depending on who she’s with to bring out certain parts of herself over others + based on the situation.

❄️ MC and Zayne ; Um. I feel like the writers didn’t know how to balance him being very cold with his actions being warm and how that melded with the MC. Cause he’s super charming and he’s genuinely a well loved male lead for a reason because he cares so deeply and shows it through all of his actions. He just doesn’t have that much chemistry with the MC 😭 some of their interactions are SO painful cause until you have a pretty high intimacy rate it’s so much of “I feel like you find me annoying at times” “I do” AUGHHHH. Every fanfic or piece with an ooc MC or a self insert is sooo much more chemistry with him. Cause the MC contrasts with him by being VERY peppy and happy and even more kind than with Xavier or Raf but with Zayne she just ends up seeming uncomfortable around him when ??? They’re supposed to be childhood friends kinda? Like not like Caleb but they KNEW each other beforehand pretty well and yeah he’s always been kinda cold but he’s always been someone to lean on and trust. Then they just don’t show the kind of trust they should have with a history like that.

[smolbean-17]

Hunter is probably going to die this season.

You know I’ve theorized this if you’ve been following me since Season 1. As the season keeps rolling out, the more and more I really do think this will happen.

We know that the ending will be bittersweet, and we know that the emotions behind the ending has a lot to do with fatherhood in particular (according to DBB)

They are putting a huge emphasis on Crosshair and Omega’s relationship. Particularly how he could fill a paternal role for her. Omega mirroring Crosshair is a huge sign to not only us as the audience, but to Hunter as well, that Crosshair can (and will) become a father figure to her. They didn’t have to show us that Hunter noticed Omega mimicking Crosshair. But they did. They’re masterfully crafting that something is going on in Hunter’s head. He’s thinking about Crosshair and Omega’s relationship, and what that could mean.

Crosshair still has a long way to go in regards to his guilt. They could easily have him sacrifice himself at the end to ultimately quell all of his guilt, but I believe that they’re going the route of subverting everyone’s expectations. Crosshair could sacrifice himself for full redemption (like they do with most Star Wars characters) and he probably would given the chance. But story wise, he doesn’t really need to.

If they were planning to go that route, he wouldn’t have been reintroduced to and accepted by the group so early on in the season.

They are actively showing Crosshair paving the way to his redemption. He’s putting in the work. He is protective, helpful, and actively putting himself in danger for the benefit of his family. He’s redeeming himself already. Him dying isn’t necessary to resolve his story. In fact, I think it would diminish the power behind his change. People can make bad decisions. They can hurt others. They can change. And they can live to see happier days. That is hope. And that is always the overarching theme of Star Wars.

Hunter, on the other hand, has been incredibly uncertain and indecisive throughout the entire show. Where Crosshair knows and acts on his decisions, whether good or bad, Hunter has been unsure of himself and his role in everything. His path is way less cut and dry. It almost feels like, in many ways, he has lost his leadership. And he feels it. He regrets his decisions. He probably blames himself for everything bad that has happened. He clearly doesn’t fully trust himself to keep his family safe.

How can his story be resolved, short of him simply finally deciding to take a stand and fight for the other clones?

By giving up his life for his family, for a cause he never wanted to be a part of, as a leader should. So they can go on and live the life he so desperately wants for them.

I don’t think at this point in the story Hunter would allow anyone else to sacrifice themselves. He would stop it from happening. He’s learned from his mistakes.

My theory is that we will see more and more instances of Hunter recognizing Omega’s growing relationships with others, especially Crosshair. And when the time finally comes, he’ll be able to let go of needing to be her primary protector. He’ll see the growth in her, and in his brothers, and finally trust that they’ll be okay. Whether he sacrifices himself or gets mortally injured in a fight/accident, he will be at peace.

I don’t know if his death will be ambiguous or unseen, like him dying in an explosion or something like that, or if it will be more obvious.

I could see him having a Fives-esque death. Where he can say goodbye to his family, and finally pass off the responsibility he held so close to his heart to Crosshair and his brothers.

And if Tech really is dead, he won’t have to be alone anymore.

They’d put Hunter’s helmet above his grave, the last real symbol of the Bad Batch, and a last goodbye to the Clone Wars (since his helmet resembles the regs’ helmets the most)

They’d leave Tech’s goggles on his grave (if Tech stays dead) along with Lula. Omega would leave a bouquet of flowers from Pabu. What a powerful image that would be.

Omega could then go on to lead her own little batch. She’s made the friends and connections to do so. Crosshair and the others wouldn’t be too far behind.

It would be a touching resolution to Hunter’s and Crosshair’s and Omega’s arcs.

Other clues I think they’re dropping that support this theory:

-Omega’s new hair design. It’s perfect for her to wear Hunter’s bandana.

-Batcher joining the squad. She fills the tracking role.

-Crosshair’s increased screen time with Omega.

-Hunter’s increased desire to do whatever it takes to keep Omega safe, and the hints that he becomes reckless upon doing so.

-The Marauder exploding. Something about losing the home and the head of the home making for great storytelling.

-The idea of passing the torch of leadership to the next generation. From Clone Wars (TBB) to the new SW content (Omega)

-The fact that Jen Corbett said Hunter is her favorite character, and I’ve never known a female writer who doesn’t whump the hell out of their favorites the most (fr one of the most compelling arguments lol)

[bigassmoonchild]

Happy

Pairing: Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: Simon finally comes home, and he meets his two little angels. You’re finally happy, and things seem perfect. A little too perfect.

Content Tags: Comfort, Twins (name reveal), Death, Canonical death, SPOILERS FOR MW3, Family Moments, Good Father Simon, Simon Finally Realizes How to Deal With His Emotions, Mentions of Pumping, More Original Characters (no name mentioned), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, Omega! Reader, No Use of Y/N

A/N: This is the end. Maple Syrup is done, it has been finished. Feel free to keep sending asks about Doc and Simon! I am more than happy to keep answering prompts about their life together and their family <3. It is insane. I am so proud of how far this has come, and I am so happy that you all have enjoyed it. Don’t worry, I have another fic lined up!!

Part 1 | Previous | Headcannons, Masterlist

Price isn’t entirely sure the last time he could smell something like this on Simon. He isn’t entirely sure if he’s ever smelled him like this. Not in the however long he’s known the Lieutenant. There’s words that he should find, something to get his other alpha, his Lieutenant, to feel better, yet there’s nothing. No matter how much he wants to say something, the words are lost to Price.

He knows the feeling coursing through Simon. Price himself missed his middle pups birth, and yet this all feels different.t He isn’t even sure there are words to convey what he wants to say, if he could just transmit the feeling he needs to he would. But he can’t do that, that just isn’t a thing that’s possible. Maybe in the far, far future but right now? All he needs to find are the words to help make his other Alpha hurt just a little less.

The tangy scent that fills the air of the heli almost burns his nose. It’s not something he’s ever smelled before, not on Simon. Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley didn’t smell hurt, or sad. Hell, he never even really smelled anguished even when he probably should have. Price knows the pup- the pups- are here, and he knows Simon should be feeling a sense of joy. Excitement, even. But there’s nothing. No joy, no happiness, just fear and a tang of pain.

While Price knows the feeling- he missed his own middle pups birth- he can’t find the words to express to Simon that it’ll all turn out okay. That everything will be figured out, that you won’t just abandon him. Simon isn’t a bad Alpha, he might be rough around the edges but he truly does mean well. Maybe his words were a little harsh, maybe his tone wasn’t always what he wanted to convey, but Simon never meant real harm to those on his side.

The sounds of shrieking, wails and snarls coming from the other end of the phone almost haunted Price. He’d never heard his own Omega, the perfect parent to their pups, scream in such a way. Maybe it was just because it hurt, maybe because you had to push two pups out of you, but maybe it was because it was so unexpected. His omega had gone to a few classes to prepare for it all.

Christ. You’d had two pups, and Simon wasn’t there to help at all. Your own pack, the one you were born in, wasn’t even there to help you with this moment. Price knew that there was very little anyone could do to fix this, but by all the gods who knew of the green Earth he wanted to find a way.

While your relationship with Simon had definitely been through worse, he knew that it was torment. Price had been given the opportunity to slowly court his own omega, make them fall in love with him each time that they were together. He knew what it took to get an omega, at least his own, to fall in love. But neither of you were given that chance. You were just some Doctor that had been assigned to their base, just a Doctor who was sent out by your own leaders and Captains to figure out what was happening.

You were just a Doctor, tossed into a world of hurt all because of Simon. And Simon wasn’t sure if he could forgive himself for any of it. You were alone, to care for two newly born pups, all alone to give birth to them. He’d heard you snarl at one of the doctors who had come in. Just Price’s Omega was allowed in, they were the only person who was allowed near you.

Simon shouldn’t have just ran off to the mission without at least having gone and seen you first. Maybe then, just maybe, he would have had the balls to stay behind and try and fix his mistakes. Maybe then, you wouldn’t have been left alone to birth your children. God, he felt so fucking stupid. He’d missed the birth of his pups.

Maybe, hopefully, you’d forgive him. You had before, so hopefully this wouldn’t be that much different. He had to stop doing this, stop making these situations occur where he hurt you so much and had to hope to whatever god would listen that you would accept him back into your arms. He could see Price, Gaz and Soap glancing at him every now and again. Soaps nose was scrunched up, his eyes slightly narrowed while looking at him.

“You alright, L.T.?” Soap asked in the silent helo. The tension was so strong Simon thought he could cut it in half. His eyes slowly moved from staring out of the window to looking right at him. Soaps eyes didn’t move, matching his stare.

Swallowing thickly, Simon broke eye contact. “Worried, s’all,” he responded, voice slightly hoarse. A hum came from Soap, and he watched him turn to look back away where he’d been prior to it. No one else spoke for the remainder of the flight back, and Simon found himself glancing back out the window he was near and watching the ground pass by quickly.

Sometimes he wondered what other people were up to, how simple their lives might be. How they might be having a nice dinner with their pack, watching as their pups grow up with ease. He felt a pang deep in his chest, and he almost felt his eyes burn for a moment. He craved such normalcy. He wanted to curl up in your nest next to you, hold you close as you slept against him.

Take care of his pups and help you out after the birth. He barely noticed the helo land and was half conscious as he walked into the compound. People were glancing at him, their eyes following him as he walked. Simon barely noticed, though, and he felt as though he had tunnel vision on his walk to your shared room.

From a few halls down, he could smell something. It was sweet, mixed in with your own scent. Milky, almost, and slightly powdery. He swallowed thickly, as just another hall down he could hear shuffling coming from your shared room. Christ, when had his hearing become so sensitive? He heard you humming faintly, some cooing and whining from two other sources.

And he opened the door, sliding the key out of the lock as he walked in. Your eyes found him, widening just a little and the faintest scent of fear coursed through your scent. Two wails suddenly screeched through the room, your eyes darting back to the closet nest and you moved without hesitation. He heard little purrs and coos coming from you, the wails slowly dying down into soft whimpers.

His heart shatters into pieces. He feels a pain he hadn’t thought possible, the thoughts whirling through his head. His pups don’t know him, they hate him and he can’t be here. Simons muscles are tensed, ready to make a run for it. He can almost feel tears pooling in his eyes, his throat closing up as a small whine comes from deep within him.

There’s nothing he can do. Absolutely nothing. He wasn’t here when they came into this Earth, he wouldn’t be here when they left. And he hated himself so deeply. But the purrs that you gave, little coos bringing him from his thoughts. His head almost cleared, listening to you whisper soothing words to the little things. God, they’d be tiny. They had to only be a few days or weeks old at this point, but everything felt like it had ground to a halt when he’d heard you were in labor.

And he shouldn’t he absolutely should leave until he can talk to you alone but he can’t. He can’t run away again when things get difficult, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to leave you. He had to make things right, but he wasn’t sure how.

Simon didn’t feel like he could move. He slid his boots off, sliding them in their spot in the corner. He moved slowly, cautiously as he inched closer to the closet. He was barely peeking around the corner when you spun and growled at him. Growled. Deeply, from so far in your chest he hadn’t thought an Omega could make that noise.

Your eyes had shifted from being you, shifting into a deeper and more primal look. They softened, slowly, as your snarl faded carefully. You had remained crouched next to the two pups, your hands still gently laid on each of them.

When you growled, you could smell fear coming from Simon. You aren’t entirely sure if that’s what pulled you out of this weird and deeply defensive spot. The father of your pups, your Alpha was standing above you and looking down at you with wide eyes. You watched as he carefully slid the balaclava off, his eyes dropping down to take a look at your pups. You shifted a little, no longer crouching down in front of them.

His eyes became softer, his brows no longer furrowed so deep into his eyes that he almost looked awed. You knew they had his eyes, although a little lighter because of how young they were. They looked so similar, although your little Lily had more of your features than her fathers. Finley, on the other hand, had his stronger features but he had your hair. Maybe he had your nose, but you were partial to your pups.

You said nothing as you handed one of them to their father. Lily shifted, her nose scrunching up as she inhaled his scent up close but it slowly disappeared as she became comfortable. Her little hand grabbed at his shirt, and one of his hands moved to stroke against her hair. He held her closer to him, and you could see his nose twitch a little as he inhaled her scent.

“I want to retire,” he whispered, not looking away from the little pup in your arms. You could feel your heart stop, your eyes almost welling with tears as the realization slowly sunk in. Your pups would have their father, and you would have your alpha.

“Do you know their names?” You whispered softly, watching as he looked up at you. He shook his head and you gave him a weak smile. You still hurt, not just physically, but emotionally. He had abandoned you. And yet he was here now, holding Lily in his arm and his eyes felt so gentle while he looked at you. “You’re holding Lily,” and he nodded, his nose twitching a little bit. “Finley is down here,”

“How do you differentiate them?” You gave a little laugh, picking up Finley and letting Simon grab onto the two of them. Your big, scary looking alpha was standing there with his head ducked down looking at his pups. He seemed so gentle, his jaw was relaxed and his brows weren’t furrowed. He seemed almost happy.

You glanced away from the three of them, swallowing thickly. “Lily’s scent is a little stronger, kind of like yours. Finley isn’t as shifty and he’s a little quieter. Mostly it’s just their scent, though, but also. Other things,” you glanced away and heard Simon laugh from deep in his chest. His eyes were scrunched up, and his head was tossed back.

Genuinely, you don’t remember if you’d ever seen him laugh as hard as that. You’re not sure that you have, and it made you feel warm. Your chest hurt, but in a good way this time. You could feel your cheeks aching from the smile you had on your face, watching your little pack enjoy themselves.

For some time, the two of your stood there basking in the little family you had. Simon finally sat himself in your nest, and you showed him how to change their diapers. The two of you sat there for what felt like minutes, but had to be hours. He helped you to the toilet when the pain relievers finally stopped working as well, helping to prepare your new pad and helping you get back up.

The first night you were able to spend with him, you hadn’t woken up once. You’d stashed away some pumped milk in a little mini fridge they’d let you keep in the room just for this, and when you woke up and added some more that you’d packaged you noticed a few missing. You smiled a little, glancing at him snoring away in the bed you shared.

It didn’t take long for his retirement to become official. The two of you found a little place not too far from the compound, and he’d gotten a new job. It was pretty decent, but he also received an alright amount of money from the government for his service. You were still working in the medical field, but you found yourself leaning more towards finding an office job, one where you could actually have decent hours to be able to help care for the pups.

Raising two pups at once was difficult. Sure, Simon helped when and where he could, but it was just difficult in general. When one pup wasn’t crying, it was the other. When one needed a diaper change, the other suddenly needed one as well. You were just happy to have your mate and your pups healthy, happy and not at risk to die.

Until Simon got a phone call.

“They think Makarov survived,” he whispered to you in bed after you came back from finishing your pumping. You could feel your blood run cold, and you turned over to look at him.

“What?”

He sighed deeply, shifting his head to look at you. “They have some,” he paused and swallowed. “Evidence. They think he’s still alive, and we need to find him. Kill him,” and your heart was suddenly pounding.

“We?”

You watched as his eyes closed, his scent changing to one that confused you. “They need me to help them,” he whispered, his hand finding yours carefully. He squeezed it, and you squeezed back. You sighed deeply, closing your eyes and feeling your heart begin to slow down.

Opening your eyes, you looked carefully at Simon. Even in the dark, you could see his brow furrowed. “I’m coming with,” you whispered. He sat up straight, elbow locked as he held himself up.

“Absolutely not,” his voice was stern, almost a growl. “You will not be going anywhere near this mission,”

You scoffed, rolling back over onto your back. Your eyes gazed across the dark ceiling. “I’m coming with you,” you whispered once more. Simon shook his head, his free hand sliding across his face.

It was a week long argument. Tempers were short, and things weren’t very happy within the house. The two of you still worked together with the pups, but it was silent. He still took care of the pups at night, even though he was sleeping in your guest bedroom. You stayed quiet, listening faintly in on his phone calls. He was trying to stay quiet, you could tell.

It was mostly arguing, at least from his end. Anger about not wanting you to go with, and whoever he was talking with appeared to be arguing for your help. He was always a little angrier after finishing the call, but he stowed away with the pups while they took their naps and seemed to just stew with the thoughts for a while.

After a week, probably just a little longer, he finally came up to you with his head down. He wasn’t making eye contact, but his brows were still furrowed. “I’m sorry,” he whispered after a moment. You nodded, continuing to package the breastmilk you’d just finished pumping. “Price wants you to join, he’s worried there might be issues with medical care while we’re on the mission,” you nodded again but paused after finally registering what he was saying.

“Price said what?”

And the mission was horrible. Absolutely horrible.

The only part you truly remember about it was watching as Soap took a gunshot to the head. You watched the blood pour out of him, heard the shouts and ensuing chaos.

Makarov got away. You did what you could, but at the end of the day you had no way of saving Soap. Simon had grown silent, and the return to the compound was horrible. Price’s omega was taking care of the pups, as their own were almost finished with their last years of school. And you left the 141 alone as they spread his ashes, holding Simon close as he sobbed into your body.

His grip on you those next few weeks were incredibly strong, his arms not letting you out of bed when you needed to use the bathroom, and he was just a little withdrawn for some time.

You named your next pup after Soap. And Simon slowly grew better about the passing, the 141 was often around to see their pack-pups. Everything felt wrong without Johnny, though. No longer just Soap, it was Johnny. Even your youngest had become Johnny, and Simon was able to keep himself from being especially partial to the young one.

They grew up so fast, but it took so long. And maybe it should have felt good, but Christ were they some difficult pups at times. Lily had her first rut, as did Finley. Johnny hadn’t yet presented, so you were just assuming he was a Beta until he would present. Maybe he wouldn’t, but you loved your little pups more than you had ever thought possible.

It wasn’t all too bad. The 141 stuck around, and you found yourselves living in the same neighborhood as the other two. Gaz had found himself a mate, and they had a few pups of their own. You helped with the birth of the first, just as Price’s Omega had done for you. They were there as well, and Simon was holding Gaz back even with the shrieks.

Gaz had tried throwing the two of you out of the room, as his omega had ended up in a similar situation to you. In the middle of birth suddenly, and unable to make it to a hospital in time. Lucky bastard, the birth took twenty minutes.

But you were happy. And that’s all that mattered.

TAGLIST (finished for Maple Syrup, please let me know if you’d eventually like to be added to a general Ghost x Reader taglist, or just no longer be tagged 🫶)

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[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (IX)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 11.4k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, dissociation/panic attacks, mild dub-con (character trying to force a kiss), other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late. — amazing cover by @leithold​!

Previous - Next

You pull a chunky sweater – Namjoon’s, you think – over your head, the thick wool settling heavily on your shoulders. It makes you want to crawl out of your own skin whenever you have to wear their clothes. You don’t have much of a choice, though, unless you want to freeze your ass off.

They thankfully had enough forethought to bring some of your clothes with them the night they broke into your apartment, but the majority of it isn't warm enough to fend off the dropping temperatures in the cabin. You may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. You know it wasn’t an accident that your warmest clothes were left behind.

You pick at the sweater, frowning, as you nip at it with your nails. You know it’s childish to ruin their things but it’s truly the only way you can act out without foiling your plans. Screaming at them won’t help you one bit and you need some form of outlet for your anger. By the time they pick up on all the tiny holes in their clothes, you’ll hopefully be long gone.

Standing in the middle of the room, you listen intently in the direction of your closed door. When the hallway remains silent, you dart over to your bedside table, carefully opening the heaviest book there. You pull out the thin metal bookmark that’s been nestled strategically between the pages, clutching it in your hand as you hurry over to the window.

You bend down, finding the place you left off yesterday before you resume digging it into the space between sash and the windowsill, slowly chipping away at the paint.

You found the bookmark completely by chance, having it literally fall into your lap a little over a week ago. It was the first time you had dared to touch your belongings after you woke up. Somehow, not touching your things made everything feel a little less real, like if you just wished hard enough, you would blink and find yourself back in your apartment where everything belonged.

But, after a week of pretending you didn’t want to throw up whenever one of your kidnappers brushed up against you, the craving for something familiar became too great.

The bookmark had felt like a godsend. Your heart had squeezed painfully as you remembered that Heejun had gifted it to you many years ago – how it was the first thing he bought after he received his first measly paycheck back when you were teenagers. Who would have thought it would end up being the only tool available to you to escape the stalkers you had so desperately tried to protect him from.

You drive the bookmark in with a huff, hitting the edge with your palm.

You’re pretty confident you’ve been trapped in this cabin for two weeks, give or take a few days. So far, sticking to your plan has been harder than you anticipated. It’s tough, acting like your skin doesn’t crawl when they try to hold your hand, or that your face doesn’t want to twist into a murderous scowl whenever they look at you. No matter how sweet or thoughtful they try to be, you can’t stop thinking about the things they’ve done – the torture they’ve been putting you through for the past year. Even if it goes against every fibre of your being to be around them, you know that this is your only way out. You have to make them trust you, make them comfortable enough to let their guards down, and that’s when you’ll be able to escape.

You never expected it to be easy – how could it be? – but the pretending is beginning to take a toll on you. You’re tired of being locked up, tired of being watched, tired of being around them. It’s a fatigue you can’t escape from no matter how much you try to sleep, and the constant weariness has caused a few near slip-ups already.

It made you unable to stop yourself from jerking away from Taehyung’s hand, despite hearing his footsteps coming up behind you in the hallway long before your arm was touched. It made you flinch when Yoongi stroked the top of your head in passing, even though you had seen him coming. It made your eyes narrow when Hoseok passed you a cup of perfectly normal water.

The weariness is faint, but it’s there.

And somehow, every time it breaches the surface, Jimin is always there to catch it.

He seems to particularly enjoy pushing your buttons. It might be because he knows, at least suspects, that you’re only acting, but Jimin always has a calculating look in his eye when he invades your personal space, when he pushes himself too close for comfort. He’s clearly not that easily fooled by your little act, but you have no clue how to convince him otherwise.

You wince as you hit the bookmark a little too hard, the metal leaving a deep indent behind on your palm.

You take that as your cue to stop chipping away for today, not willing to tempt fate by continuing and risk getting caught. After returning the bookmark to its hiding place, you step back to the window to sweep up the little chips of loose paint into your hand.

Sighing, you take in the sorry state of your precious plants, the poor things having browned and wilted from the increasingly colder temperatures in the cabin. You know there’s no way to save them now that they’re already half-dead, but the dark soil is still of use to you, especially since it proves to be a perfect cover for paint shavings.

You dust off your hands, gaze sweeping over your room to make sure nothing looks out of the ordinary. Deeming everything fine, you turn your attention to your closed door, squaring your shoulders as you listen to the muffled sounds coming from somewhere else in the cabin.

You can do this, you tell yourself, even though both your heart and mind screams no. Straightening yourself out, you glance back at your wilted plants as you open the door. Seeing the dead leaves makes your stomach twist uncomfortably.

The only thing you can hope, is that you’ll get out of here before you share the same fate.

You stare down at the pastel yarn in your lap, fingers nimbly casting on another stich as you knit. You enjoy the mindlessness of it – of how you can let your mind wander while your hands work on their own. It's a hobby you picked up a few years ago by chance, when you were procrastinating writing a paper and ended up falling down the rabbit hole of watching people knit chunky blankets at two am. You’ve gotten decently good at it now, at least enough to know some basic recipes by heart.

A sudden huff on your left almost makes you lose a stitch.

You cast a quick glance over at Seokjin as the couch shifts, your own needles pausing as you take in the absolute mess he’s made of the yarn in his hands. Seokjin is pouting down at his creation, brows furrowed in deep concentration as he fumbles awkwardly with his knitting needles. Judging by the jumbled thread around his fingers, he’s just been creating knots for the past few minutes. The sight would’ve been endearing, maybe, if the situation was different. You can picture it a little too easily, how head over heels in love you could’ve been with Seokjin if he had approached you normally. How you would’ve swooned with fondness watching him try so hard to share your hobby with you.

You shake your head, casting the thoughts away before they can settle. It doesn’t matter what could have been when the reality is still this – you’re trapped in a cabin that’s god knows where because he, and the others, are crazy. Whatever weird thing they’re trying to pull by bringing you things you like and participating in your hobbies isn’t going to work. You know that biting your tongue and enduring their antics is an necessary evil, that spending time with them will only help you to better understand what makes them tick - but each passing day is only bringing you closer and closer to your breaking point.

“That doesn’t look right, hyung.” Hoseok chuckles as he walks past the couch, a steaming cup of tea in his hand.

He takes a seat on the opposite couch, pulling Jungkook’s feet into his lap. Jungkook is reading one of books Namjoon brought for you, his doe eyes suddenly growing big as he seems to get to particularly interesting plot point. You don’t think it’s a coincidence that he picked the same book you finished yesterday.

As is, you’ve been seeing a lot of them over the past few days.

The boys seem to have worked out a system, something that’ll help them keep up appearances and avoid bringing any suspicion to themselves. It sounded like Hoseok was the one that came up with the idea – of the boys grouping up to stay in the cabin in rotating shifts. Both Seokjin and Hoseok have employees to take over their shifts, Seokjin giving the excuse that he’s trying to branch out the business and thus needs to visit florist fairs out of town, and Hoseok simply stating he wants to take time off for himself now that the shop is doing well. Jungkook can mostly do as he pleases, it’s not like any of your professors take attendance, but you’ve heard him whining to Seokjin about doing extra shifts at Déjà Bloom to make up for the eldest absence.

It seems that Taehyung and Yoongi are established enough in their careers that they can work from home (or the cabin, rather) a few days a week, but you’ve heard them grumbling to the others that their presence is often needed in-house to finish up projects. Jimin, on the other hand, already works in shifts at the station, three days on, one or two days off. You don’t doubt he somehow managed to charm the other officers to give him the best shifts – they seemed willing to break their backs for him the times you visited the station.

It’s Namjoon you’ve seen the least to.

It’s not that surprising, not when he basically runs the local library by himself. He’s already ranted twice about how little support the library gets from the city, so you think it’s safe to assume that he doesn’t have the funds to hire another full-time worker to help him out. You should be glad that it doesn’t leave much time for him to come to the cabin, that he can only come up during the evening and stay until the morning after every now and then, but it only seems to leave him even clingier than normal. The cabin feels extra stifling whenever he comes to visit, with how he constantly hovers around you, holding your hands and hugging you close so that you don’t catch a cold, darling. It makes pretending you don’t mind it just a smidge harder every time.

“I’m trying my best! It’s harder than it looks.” Seokjin whines, hair flopping dramatically as he flings his head back.

You watch his throat bob, lips still pursed in a soft pout as he gently calls out to you, ”Y/n, can you please help me?”

You press your lips into a strained smile, sighing internally as you look at the knotted and lopsided creation in his hands. You don’t even quite understand how he’s managed to tangle it up so badly in such a short time, but the only help you can offer him at this point is just to unravel the whole thing to start anew.

“Sure, give it here.” You murmur.

Seokjin flashes you a sheepish grin as he hands the yarn over, the tips of his ears turning pink as you grimace at the mess. You pull the knitting needles out from the last remaining stitches, tugging on the yarn to find the first knot you’ll have to untie.

“You know you don’t have to force yourself to do this if you don’t enjoy it, right?” You say, staring down at the string as you work to loosen it up.

Honestly, it would be better for you if he didn’t. I do have to spend time with them, but you’d much rather just sit in awkward silence over being reminded of them every time you go to do one of your hobbies after you get out of here.

“I’m not forcing myself to do anything, angel, I want to learn how to knit. I might not be very good right now but I still enjoy it, because it means I get to spend time with you."

You don’t meet the lovesick gaze that burns into the side of your face.

Hoseok does an exaggerated shudder on the other couch, jostling Jungkook’s legs with the movement. ”You’re so sappy, hyung, you’re going to make me gag.”

Seokjin makes an affronted noise, chucking one of the pillows behind his back at Hoseok in retaliation. The pillow ends up veering too much to left, smacking right into the youngest’s head instead of his intended target. Jungkook startles at the impact, too absorbed in his book to even see it coming, shocked eyes blinking back at Seokjin as the pages slip from his grasp.

“What?–”

“Ah, Seokjin hyung, stop bullying Jungkook! The poor baby didn’t do anything wrong!” Hoseok snickers behind his hand as he fusses over Jungkook. He tucks some of Jungkook’s hair behind his ear, gently patting his cheeks to bring him back from the unexpected shock.

“Jungkook-ah, h-hyung didn’t mean it!” Seokjin stutters.

Drowning out their bickering, you turn back to the tangled mess in your hands as Jungkook uses the opportunity to tease Seokjin, joining Hoseok to gang up on him. Your brows furrow as you work on an especially difficult knot, the yarn tied so firmly you struggle to get a hold of it. You’re so focused that you almost don’t realize how the sound of Seokjin’s exasperated voice and Jungkook and Hoseok’s laughter makes your movements falter, heart squeezing in your chest.

You brush of the weird feeling immediately, refusing to linger on the implications as you chalk up the odd moment of weakness on your growing cabin fever.

By the time you’re almost completely done with unravelling Seokjin’s creation, you feel a gentle nudge on your arm. You glance up to find Seokjin already staring at you, his face lighting up as you meet his gaze.

“You know what, angel, I don’t think I ever got to tell you about the time I first saw you.”

You give him a weary look, already knowing you’re probably not going to like where this is going. ”What do you mean? The day at the flower shop?”

“No, the first time, Y/n.” Seokjin smiles, a little bashful. ”It was, eight – nine? months ago, when I was on my way home after closing the shop. It was weird, I ended up taking a completely different route than I normally do and I wasn’t even sure why. There was just this pull, an urge to follow this unknown feeling and figure out what it meant. It ended up leading me to a random grocery store and I suddenly knew there was something I desperately needed in there. I had no clue what it could be, but I figured it would come to me as I walked around.”

“I had almost made my way through the entire building when I finally rounded an aisle, and watched as some kid ran straight into your legs, knocking you over. I almost thought I was dreaming when I felt the pain in my own legs as you connected with the floor. I had already come to terms with never meeting my soulmate, and there you suddenly were, right in front of me.” Seokjin’s voice is thick with emotion, his eyes glossy as he reaches out to take your hand in his.

Because you have to, you allow his warm fingers to wrap around yours, letting it chase away some of the chill in the room despite the fireplace roaring with life close by.

Hoseok and Jungkook look enraptured by Seokjin’s story, and think you can see a faint tremble to youngest’s lips. His tale clearly resonates with the other two, and you have no doubt the others would react similarly if they were here to hear it. It makes you a little jealous, almost, how they get to have memories of relief and happiness over finding their soulmate, while yours is shrouded in terror and confusion.

Seokjin gives you an apologetic smile, squeezing your hand as he says, "I’m sorry I didn’t help you at the time, darling, I was just too shocked.”

“It’s okay.” You murmur, ignoring the what ifs vying for attention in the back of your mind.

There’s one odd thing about Seokjin’s story though, something you’ve never heard about happening between unknown soulmates before.

”You mentioned feeling a pull? What’s that about?"

You think Heejun mentioned how he felt drawn to Jaemin for a few weeks after they found each other the first time, like their soulbond was urging them to strengthen their newfound connection. But that was after. There was never a pull that lead them together in that library, it was only luck – coincidence.

“I’m not sure,” Seokjin admits. ”It was the first and last time felt anything like it.”

“I got that feeling too, that day at the charity event. I normally don’t involve myself in other people’s business, but the thought of not checking out what was going on made my heart ache.” Hoseok adds, a small frown on his face as he rubs his chest.

“Me too. I wasn’t supposed to be in that shared class with Y/n last semester. I had enough credits to drop it, but the thought of doing it made me feel really anxious. I felt like I was going to have a panic attack the one time I actually tried to withdraw from it.” Jungkook says, hesitant eyes flickering from you and Seokjin’s intertwined hands to your face.

“I never felt it, though.” You frown.

You would’ve known if you had, right? If they all had such strong reactions, then there’s no way you could’ve missed all the signs.

Seokjin hums, something contemplating crossing over his features as he rubs his thumb over your knuckles. ”You’re not from around here, correct?”

Well, you’re definitely not from here, bumfuck nowhere in the middle of the woods. You bite back the snarky reply, knowing it won’t do you any good to voice it out loud. You’re sure Namjoon must’ve given them the rundown on everything he knows by now, especially with the extensive file he has access to, but since you’re trapped out here for god knows how long, you might as well humour Seokjin and play along.

“No. The city I grew up in is about two hours south by train.”

The three men all nod along like it’s new information, Seokjin even seeming a bit surprised. They would all make fine actors, you think.

“Why did you move here, then? If your friends and family were all back home.”

“The university is nice–”

Hoseok interrupts you with a tsk. ”The university in the next city over is miles better and you know it, sunshine.”

It is.

You even had the grades to be accepted there, if you had wanted to go.

“So? Why did you pick this specific university in this town?” Seokjin prompts, one eyebrow quirked.

You pause. Why did you pick this city to study in? Live in? It wasn’t the best option you had. Hell, the courses aren’t even that interesting compared to what’s offered at other universities. Heejun chose to join you after you had already made a decision, so it’s not like you can blame it on him, either.

“It … felt right.” You breathe.

That’s the only answer you have. There was just this feeling of rightness that washed over you when you settled on your current university, like this is where you were always supposed to be.

Seokjin looks pleased by your revelation, nodding his head as if to say there you go.

You feel yourself growing pale, heart racing and palms turning clammy as the truth slowly but surely sinks in. This entire time you had lived with the belief that the bond didn’t affect you, that there must have been a mistake – something you might be able to change. But this, this means that the pull had been there for you too, that it manifested itself with you first. You just didn’t know it.

None of this would’ve happened if you hadn’t come here.

You stare down at the yarn in your lap, at the knots that have been untied and those that are still there. Maybe this was something you were never able to change. Perhaps Namjoon was right, that all of this was destined, and you would’ve ended up here no matter what choices you made.

You’re not sure what hurts most – the idea that fate handed you over to them, or that it was your own soul that betrayed you, tricked you, into this hell of a reality.

Inhaling deeply, you feel the crisp air rush down your throat, nestling deep into your lungs. You keep your face turned towards the weak rays of sunlight streaming through the balding trees, lips twitching at the faint warmth that caresses your face. This is the first time you’ve been outside in weeks and you’re going to use the time you have for all that it’s worth.

The sound of crunching leaves interrupts your moment of peace.

You open your eyes slowly, steeling yourself before you turn back to look at Jungkook. He’s been keeping his distance since you came outside, letting you have a few minutes to yourself. You’re not stupid enough to think that this is him trusting you, though. Jungkook has been tense ever since you stepped outside the cabin, body strung as if he’s only waiting for the moment he’ll have to jump into action to hunt you down.

Thankfully, you’re not dumb enough to believe that you’ll manage get away even if you do try. It’s no coincidence that it’s Jungkook accompanying you outside, it’s easy to tell from his physique alone that he’s likely the strongest and fastest out of all of them. There’s also no chance that Jungkook suddenly decided you bring you outside by himself, without the others being involved first. You knew from the moment Jungkook hesitantly approached you that this was a test.

A test for them to see if you can be trusted; to see if you’ve been broken enough to stay, or if you’ll attempt to run away. 

It is tempting, now that you’re outside with the soft ground under your boots and the gentle wind brushing through your hair, but you know that playing the long game is the only thing that will truly get you out of here.

You hug your arms to your chest, pulling Jungkook’s padded jacket closer to your body to fend of the chill that’s started to cling to you. ”I’m getting cold, do you think we can walk for a bit?”

As it is, you’ve barely even moved away from the old house. He lead you out back, to the beginning of the open field behind the cabin, but you haven’t dared to venture much further without his permission. You want Jungkook to take the lead, to let him believe that he's the one in control even if you don’t trust a single bone in his body.

Jungkook pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, doe eyes flickering between you and the clearing nervously. He’s still standing a few feet behind you, just enough to give you the illusion of privacy despite the both of you knowing that you have none.

“We can walk to the tree and back.” He stumbles over the first word before he clears his throat and nods in the direction of the big oak tree in the middle of the clearing.

It’s not as far as you’d like, but you have a feeling it’s to make sure you don’t get too knowledgeable about your surroundings. Either way, you need to stretch your legs and move around to make sure your muscles work once you actually can escape, so the tree is better than nothing.

“Thank you.” You flash him a bright smile, a sense of ugly satisfaction curling in your gut at the way it makes Jungkook almost trip over his own feet.

You fall into step besides him once he closes the distance between you, allowing your arm to brush against his as you trudge through the withered grass and moss. The brief contact is enough to make Jungkook flustered, and even though you hate it, you know you have to keep initiating it in hopes that it'll break down his walls faster.

“The hyungs ..” Jungkook starts, his mouth pinching into a faint frown. ”The choices they made weren’t the right ones, but that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. I-I don’t like keeping you here but they – we – are scared of losing you, of you not giving us a chance if we let you go. They’re only trying to do what’s best for all of us, even if it doesn't seem like it right now.”

He sees the unconvinced look that passes over your face before you manage to school your features, the slight purse of your lips that tells him you’re not fully ready to accept the truth just yet. He continues still, voice filled with gentle mirth as he talks about the others.

“They’ve helped me a lot. The hyungs sort of took me under their wing the moment I met them. I-I, um, didn’t have the best childhood, my parents weren’t always k-kind, but the hyungs have always tried to make up for it – to make sure I never had to deal with that kind of hurt again. My s-stutter used to be much worse before, before they showed me what it felt like to be safe and happy.”

Your treacherous heart aches for him. You release a soft breath, letting go of the urge to take Jungkook into your arms with it. You keep your eyes on the pale blue sky, whispering out a simple, ”I’m sorry.”

“I-I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad for me.” Jungkook rushes to say.

”I don’t even know why I said it, I-I just … want you to know that deep down, they always mean well. When my parents cut me off, Seokjin hyung offered me a job even though business was too slow for an extra part-timer at the time. I hated working for hyung in the beginning. He practically forced me to, saying that exposure to people would help me overcome my shyness and s-stutter. I was always so anxious I couldn’t sleep the night before my shifts, worried s-sick that the customers would be mean and make fun of the way I talked. It was rough, but it helped. Hyung was always there to make sure it nothing bad happened. Seokjin hyung and the others have all taken care of me in their own ways, even if they may seem unconventional to others. The hyungs just care, so much, about the people they love. I-I really don’t know where I would be without them."

“I believe you.”

You don’t doubt that the others have taken good care of Jungkook, or that they all care for each other. You would have to be blind not to see that they’re all close friends, that they all love each other, regardless of the influence of the faint soulbond they share. They might mean well, they might think they’re doing the right thing, but that doesn’t excuse anything that has transpired in the last year.

You still hate them.

That won’t ever change.

“You do?” Jungkook’s doe eyes grow wide with surprise. His lips stretch into a happy grin when you nod, his soft curls bouncing against his cheek as his steps seem to get a little more pep in them.

You crane your head back as you reach the tree, looking up at the sun through the barren branches. You watch a couple of birds fly across the sky, spreading their wings as they dance with the wind, swooping and rising as it pleases them. Oh, how you wish you could join them. You’d be willing to give almost anything for a pair of wings to get yourself out of here. To fly away from the rotting earth under your feet and the heat of Jungkook’s gaze on your face.

You can see him toing at the fallen leaves out of the corner of your eye, his breath hitching every time he opens his mouth to say something, only to regret it and screw his lips shut immediately. He pauses, his chest rising and falling with unsure breaths, before he timidly admits, ”I-I think I might have been the one that helped Tae hyung send roses to your apartment.”

The suddenness catches you off guard. You turn to properly look at him, dumbfounded, as you wait for him to go on.

“I-I didn’t know it was you at the time! Hyung pulled me aside one night when we were all hanging out and asked me if I could help him deliver some flowers without Seokjin hyung knowing about it. Hyung looked so shy, so happy, when he mentioned he had found his soulmate and wanted to woo them properly. We never really talked about our marks – but Taehyung has always had the most trust in the soulmate system, he has always believed he would find his other half. So I-I was really touched that he wanted my help with something so special.”

“Tae hyung never gave me a name, just the address and the apartment number it should be delivered too. I-I didn’t know where you lived since I always left my letters in your locker, so I didn’t connect the dots until I saw him in Hoseok hyung’s shop. Back then, I wanted to respect hyung’s wishes and keep it a secret, he didn’t seem ready to share it with the whole group yet. He seemed particularly worried about Seokjin hyung, that it would affect him badly because his own soulmate had died–”

Jungkook looks like he’s bitten into something sour as the word leaves his tongue. He shakes his head, eyes rolling before he adds, “which obviously wasn’t true – but I understood his reasoning at the time. I regret not asking him more about it, though.”

You blink at him, another piece of the puzzle clicking into place. That is why Seokjin didn’t have any information about the roses, because Jungkook had done it off the books.

For the first time since you stepped outside, Jungkook adverts his gaze to the ground. He hangs his head, a deep furrow appearing between his brows as he stares down at the dying grass. Jungkook pouts, his lip beginning to wobble before he hurriedly pulls it between his teeth. The scrape of his teeth as he bites down on the soft flesh leaves a faint sting in your own; the cruel reminder of your bond causing you to clench your fists.

Jungkook sounds regretful, quiet, when he finally says, "I wish I hadn’t helped hyung cause you even more pain.”

You close your eyes, allowing yourself a brief moment to collect yourself. What are you supposed to say? It’s okay? Because it’s not. I forgive you? Because you don’t.

You turn on your heel, shoving your fists deep into your pockets to hide the way they tremble. ”You didn’t know.”

Jungkook lets out a wounded sound, something close to a hiccup, as he keeps his head bowed in apology.

“I’m still sorry, Y/n.”

“Okay.” You murmur.

Remorse you can work with. If Jungkook is truly regretful of what he’s done, you should be able to use that to your advantage.

You swallow thickly, stepping closer to nudge his shoulder with your own. Jungkook’s dark eyes shine with guilt as he raises his head, face nothing short of distraught as he meets your gaze.

“Let’s go back, Jungkookie.” You give him a weak smile, the nickname foreign as it rolls off your tongue.

It has the intended effect though, as you watch Jungkook’s mouth fall open, a star struck expression taking over his features. You’ve been mentally prepping yourself for this moment for days, waiting for the perfect opportunity to strike. This is the first time you’ve reciprocated the same closeness, familiarity, that they’ve been suffocating you with ever since you got here. The fact that Jungkook is the first one to hear it is a big deal, one you hope will make the others jealous – miserable – as they hopelessly wait for their turn.

You take a step forward, waiting for Jungkook to snap out of his daze before you continue walking any further. The guilt on his face has softened into something sweeter, doe eyes sparkling, as he begins to lead you back to the cabin.

You can work with this, you think. Maybe if you continue to focus on Jungkook, on the remorse he carries and how eager he is for you forgiveness, you can manipulate him into letting you go. Maybe you can go out for a walk again, ask for some alone time now that he thinks you won’t run–

You squeak as you step on a patch of frozen mud, feet sliding out from underneath you. In the fraction of the second it takes for Jungkook to grab you, all you can think is; not again. He pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as he drags you away from slippery patch. Your face is smushed against his padded jacket, your chests falling and rising in tandem from the scare.

You swear it’s like a flip has been switched ever since you got here, your clumsiness levels having gone from ten to a hundred. You were never this bad back in the city; but you also were never this caught up in your own thoughts with planning possible escape routes, either.

“I’m fine.” You blurt out before Jungkook can open his mouth to ask. "Thank you for catching me. Uh, again.”

Jungkook hugs you close, arms squeezing around your waist in reply before he leans back to look at you. The proximity makes you gulp, your throat suddenly painfully dry as you stare at him up-close. With his face so close to yours, you can’t help but notice the small mole beneath his lips, or how pink and glossy his mouth looks after he mindlessly wets it. The cold temperature outside has given his cheeks a healthy flush, adding even more charm to his already cute face.

Despite everything that has happened, you can’t deny the fact that Jungkook is handsome. Pretty - in fact.

Your heart tumbles in your chest as Jungkook takes a tiny step closer. You can barely even feel his hands anymore, the pressure on your waist so light you would think you were made of glass. It’s a stark contrast to how bone crushingly heavy his gaze feels. There’s something intense, yet nervous, in his eyes as they slowly roam over your face, almost like he’s carefully committing every detail to memory.

Your brain is screaming at you to step away, to run, as his face cautiously moves closer to yours, but you can’t seem to move, feet frozen to the cold ground. Even with the sun shining down at you, you swear you can make out stars in Jungkook’s dark eyes as he leans in. Heart racing, you tilt your head, eyelids swooping low as the air fogs up between you.

A particularly harsh breath of air escapes from your lips, the force strong enough to create a misty cloud that momentarily separates you from Jungkook as the condensation drifts upwards. The fleeting veil between you is enough to snap you back to your senses. The weirdly anticipatory fluttering of your heart screeches to a halt, immediately being replaced by a violent shiver of horror as the air clears.

“Jungkook.” Your voice sounds strangled even to your own ears.

Jungkook stops in his tracks as you call out his name, dazed eyes sweeping up from your lips to the strained expression on your face. You would think a cold bucket of water has been dumped over his head with how quickly he releases you, hands yanked away from your body as he stumbles back.

“Y/n, I–” He cuts himself off, face fluctuating between longing and sadness as he looks away. Jungkook shoves his shaking hands into his pockets, voice weak as he says. ”Let’s go back to the cabin.”

You nod, tightly gripping on to the sides of your jacket as you curl your arms protectively around your middle. You once again fall into step beside him, the distance between the two of you much greater than it was before. Your heart is still galloping away in your chest, your stomach tight with nerves. You should be disgusted, repulsed, that Jungkook tried to kiss you, but all you can feel is just – confusion. Jungkook wasn’t the only person that leaned in.

For a split second, no matter how brief it was, you wanted it too.

You swallow down the bile rising in your throat, keeping your gaze firmly locked onto the ground as the cabin’s shadow begins to loom over you. This isn’t good. It’s hard to weed out the cause of your moment of weakness; maybe it was cabin fever, or maybe your basic need for human affection latched on to the person that seemed the least threatening. Or, perhaps worst of all, maybe your soulbond is beginning to turn on you – beginning to accept them despite the circumstances forcing you together.

You cast one last glance up at the weak sun, hugging yourself tight. You whisper out a small prayer to the remaining leaves rustling in the trees, begging that all of this won’t cause you to lose yourself. That you won’t lose sight of the only goal you have.

Escape.

In hindsight, you should’ve known the pretending could only go on for so long.

You breathe in slowly through your nose, carefully scrubbing away any traces of dirt from the carrots in front of you. Cold water flows over your hands whenever you go to rinse one off but the sensation barely even registers, your mind all too aware of the eyes boring holes into your back.

You had jumped at the chance to help Yoongi in the kitchen – any low effort activity that still made it seem like you wanted to be near them were your favourite – but you hadn’t accounted for Taehyung and Jimin to join you as well.

It's unnerving, feeling their eyes following every minuscule movement you make as you follow Yoongi’s instructions. The tasks he gives you are superficial, washing vegetables and stirring pots, but there’s not much else for you to do when you’re not allowed near any knives. Still, regardless of how simple they are, you try to take your time doing them whenever you help Yoongi out.

Normally it’s just to buy yourself a few extra minutes of silence in the kitchen since the others tend to stay clear of it, but now, it’s the sinking feeling in your stomach that makes your movements drag.

Taehyung and Jimin are up to something. You’re very aware that they aren’t as gullible as the rest - that they’re on to what you’re trying to do.

You carefully place the shiny carrot on the cutting board besides you, listening to the steady chop chop chop of Yoongi’s knife as he dices it up for the stew he’s making. He’s muttering something under his breath, his dark brows knitted together in concentration as he stares down at the knife.

He never rushes you, you’ve found.

Regardless of the reason why – maybe he believes you’re being slow to spend more time with him or maybe he knows you need a break from the others some times – you know Yoongi doesn’t mind it. After all, it means he gets more alone time with you.

“Ah–” Yoongi pauses, knife hitting the cutting board with a dull thud. ”I forgot the new spices in the car! I’ll be right back.”

“Sure.” You nod, feeling uneasy as you run another carrot under the slow stream of water.

You look over your shoulder, watching Yoongi step back from the counter, knife still in hand as he turns around to face Taehyung and Jimin. He points it in their direction, eyes narrowed as he drawls out a stern, ”Behave.”

Taehyung scoffs, childishly turning up his nose at Yoongi’s demand as he leans back in his chair.

“I’m offended, hyung. When have we not?” Jimin rolls his eyes.

Yoongi’s jaw locks, a frustrated rush of air leaving his nose. ”Like I said, I’ll be right back.”  He shakes his head as he goes, throwing the pair another pointed glare before he exits the kitchen.

The moment Yoongi steps out the door; Taehyung and Jimin’s eyes seem to snap to each other like magnets. It’s nothing more than a quick glance, but even just that brief contact carries enough weight to make the alarms in your head blare.

You whip your head back to the sink, hoping they didn’t notice you watching them. Sending out a silent wish for Yoongi to return within the next ten seconds, you resume cleaning the vegetables in front of you, praying the pair will leave you be if you look busy enough.

Only a slow second passes before Jimin’s airy voice calls out to you from the kitchen table.

“Baby, is Yoongi hyung working you too hard? You know you can just relax and let us take care of things, right?”

You stiffen at the question, muscles locking up under the wave of tension that grips your body. Forcing your hands to keep moving, you let out a strained answer in return. ”I-I don’t mind. I like helping out.”

“Ah. I see.”

You can't be sure, not with your back turned and his expression hidden from view, but you swear for a split second that Jimin sounded jealous.

“So, you’re enjoying your time here, then?” He asks, voice deceptively calm.

Nervous, you wet your lips, scrubbing harder at the squeaky clean carrot in your hand. What game is he playing?

“Of course.” You say, proud of the way your voice doesn’t falter.

Jimin hums. The sound is accompanied by slow rhythmic taps against the kitchen table, almost as if he's unknowingly thrumming his fingers as he thinks. Except – the motion is too controlled, too deliberate.

He’s trying to set you on edge.

“There’s nothing you’d want to change? You like being here with us?”

It’s a trap, you know it is, but how can you do anything else besides walk right into it? You can’t tell Jimin the truth. Not when you’ve already come this far.

Jimin must revel in the knowledge that he’s got you cornered.

You clutch the edge of the sink as a chair screeches behind you, soft footsteps padding across the floor until you can feel someone hovering behind you. You squeeze your eyes shut as Taehyung’s familiar cologne invades your nose. You can’t focus with him, who’s practically danger personified, standing so close.

What’s taking Yoongi so long?

Gritting your teeth, you slowly place the clean carrot on Yoongi’s cutting board, praying Taehyung doesn’t notice the way your hand trembles. Jimin asked you a question, but you can’t seem to recall what it was, his voice all muddled together in your head. Flustered, the only thing you can seem to focus on are the soft puffs of air hitting your hair, Taehyung quite literally breathing down your neck. You must take too long because you suddenly find yourself being spun around, the world moving too fast until you find yourself caged between Taehyung’s arms, pressed against the counter.

You jerk back, surprised, heart in your throat as Taehyung’s intense eyes stare you down.

“Answer Jiminie's question, babe.”

You hold his gaze, your skin crawling as you muster up a shaky smile.

“Y-Yes. I didn’t see it at first but I understand it now, why you all did it.” The words are painful to push out, your tongue hesitating to curve around your blatant lies. ”I’m h-happy here – with you.”

Jimin makes a delighted sound, but it’s just as fake as the bravado on your face.

“Are you now? That’s great, baby. I guess none of us are making you uncomfortable, then? We haven’t been ah, overstepping, any boundaries?”

“Of course not.”

Taehyung cocks his head, face flat as he asks. ”So you don’t like Jungkook and Yoongi better than the rest of us?”

“What?” You breathe, taken aback.

You can’t believe your plan might have actually worked.

It’s been a few days since your outing with Jungkook and you’ve been nervously waiting for one of them to bring it up. There’s no way they didn’t wring him out for details afterwards. Maybe they haven’t caught on what you’ve been doing at all, too busy stewing in their jealousy of the others?

“You seem to have grown … close, lately.” Taehyung frowns. ”So, do you? Like them more than us?”

You hate them all equally.

“No.” You’re quick to shake your head. The longer you manage to convince them you care for all of them whilst giving a few special treatment, the better. It’s bound to cause some friction between them, no matter how close they are.

Taehyung lights up, his boxy smile coming in at full force at your rebuttal.

A cough from Jimin is all it takes for it to disappear.

A shiver racks down your spine as you watch the light dim just as quickly as it arrived, his grin faltering as suspicion seems to creep in. He inches closer, scrutinizing your face as he asks, ”Y/n, do you love us?”

“I–” You swallow thickly.

You assumed they would ask at some point but not right now. Not when you’re already struggling to keep your panic at bay and your head on straight. You feel like you’re walking on a tightrope, the edges fraying at both sides.

Still, you manage to force out a shaky, ”I’m your soulmate, how can I not?”

That seems to be enough to placate him, Taehyung’s smile returning once again. This time though, his lips stretch into something more sinister than kind. It makes you realize your mistake a little too late – you never should have worded it as a challenge.

“Yeah?” Taehyung leans in, eyebrows quirking as his gaze dips down to your lips. ”Prove it then.”

You freeze as Taehyung’s hands find your waist, long fingers holding you firmly in place. Your mind races as his face draws closer and closer, Taehyung darting his tongue out to wet his lips.

They tricked, lured you, right into this. You never had the upper hand. It seems that the only person who’s been played is you.

Your eyes widen in alarm as his flutter closed, gaze darting around wildly as you look for a way to escape. There’s no natural way for you to duck away from Taehyung, no lies that will make sense. They’ve caught you and you have no doubt they’ll tattle to the others if you don’t kiss him.

The rational part of your brain is yelling at you to just do it! – you’ve come too far to throw all that progress away over a simple kiss. But the rest of you aches, mourns, the idea. To give yourself away so easily to someone you hate so deeply. Taehyung may see someone he loves, someone he thinks he knows; but all you can see as you look at his face is anxiety and terror; your sanity slipping through your fingers like sand.

He’s so close, brows starting to furrow in confusion as he never meets your lips, unaware of how you’ve been pulling back to keep your distance. Your neck is starting to cramp from the odd angle, hands shaking by your sides as Taehyung’s sweater brushes against them.

He lets out an annoyed breath, the fingers on your waist tightening as if he’s going to pull you against his chest to get you closer.

You can’t. You can’t, you can’t–

Your hands fly out, pushing Taehyung away. You feel cracked open, panicked, the fear and anger you’ve been suppressing ever since you woke up here spilling out and engulfing you from head to toe.

The force causes Taehyung to stumble back, shocked, until he hits the edge of the kitchen table. He blinks at you like he doesn’t understand what’s going on, like he doesn’t know what he just tried to do. He raises a hand as if he’s going to reach out for you, come back, despite your rejection.

They’ll never change.

They’ll never understand.

A sickening wave of terror crashes over you, mixing with the panic as it builds and builds and builds– until you finally, simply – break.

“Do not touch me.” You let out a shrill scream, a note of hysteria colouring your voice. ”How could I ever love you, when this is how you treat me? When you’ve ruined my life?”

Straightening up, you step away from the counter, pulse roaring in your ears as you stare Taehyung down. "The thought makes me sick. Our soulbond is a mistake, a cruel joke, and I don’t accept it. I’d rather die than fall in love with the likes of you – any of you."

Taehyung looks stricken. He must’ve known you weren’t completely truthful if he decided to scheme with Jimin, and yet, he clearly didn’t quite grasp just how vehemently you actually hate him – them. Underneath the panic, there’s a sick sense of satisfaction curling in your gut as Taehyung’s throat keeps bobbing, his dark eyes welling up under your hard glare.

A heavy silence settles over the kitchen as your voice tapers off. Yoongi’s soup has begun to boil and sputter, but you can barely hear it over your own ragged breaths. The burst of bravery you had is already dying off, leaving you trembling in place as it dawns on you just how badly you’ve fucked up.

You startle as Jimin’s low whistle fills the air.

“There she is.”

You jerk your head in his direction, finding Jimin languidly leaning back in a chair, seemingly unaffected by everything you just hurtled at them. You can detect a hint of annoyance, like he’s angry he was proven right, but the smirk pulling at his mouth speaks louder. Jimin looks amused, excited, that you finally showed your true colours.

“What?” You seethe.

“I knew it.” Jimin’s gaze feels like tiny knives, the coldness in them a terrible juxtaposition to the growing smile on his face. ”You’re not broken in at all, are you, baby?”

Bile shoots up your throat so fast you’re surprised you manage to not throw up. You clench you teeth, hands shaking with rage by your sides.

You want to punch him so, so badly.

Even though you know you’ll only end up hurting yourself in the process, you still find yourself moving forward, vision zeroed in on Jimin's gloating expression.

You’ve only taken a few steps when Yoongi rushes back into the room, Hoseok hot on his heels. They both look you up and down, checking for any visible injuries, before they take in the fury on your face.

“What’s going on?” Yoongi asks. His concern morphs into anger as he looks from you to Jimin and Taehyung, their wildly different expressions painting quite the story.

You have enough wits left to know that you need to leave before Jimin opens his mouth. Yoongi may be annoyed with him now for upsetting you, but you’re sure that’ll change once he hears what you just threw in their faces. It doesn’t take a genius to know that this is going to turn out very bad for you.

You take your chance as Hoseok hisses a low 'Park Jimin’ under his breath, sidestepping Yoongi as he stalks over to Jimin’s chair.

Bolting out of the room, you manage to catch Yoongi so off guard that he doesn’t have time to stop you, and Hoseok is too far away to grab you even if he wanted to. You run past Seokjin in the hallway, surprise blooming on his face as you enter your room, slamming the door shut behind you.

Panicked, you grab the desk chair, propping it under the door handle to hold it shut. You have no key, nothing to lock it with, so you hurriedly shove whatever furniture you can up to the door, creating a makeshift barricade you know won’t hold them back for very long once they hear the full story from Jimin.

You fist your hair, eyes burning with tears as you pace around the room. You flinch at the loud yelling carrying all the way from the kitchen, six voices rising and falling as they argue heatedly. The door muffles the sounds, but you can still hear your name being shouted back and fourth, over and over again.

Your chest feels so tight you can barely breathe, lungs refusing to expand as terror clings to your body like a second skin. Everything you worked for over the last month was all for nothing, there’s no way they’ll ever trust you after this. You stumble forward, gripping the edge of the bed to steady yourself. There’s no doubt in your mind that they'll do something more drastic to feed their fantasies, that they’ll chain you up somewhere and lose themselves so deep in their delusions that their last bits of sanity will slip away if it means they’ll get to have you.

“No, no, no…” You let out a muffled cry, silently sobbing into your hand as you keep pacing around the room, desperate to find anything that might help you.

You nearly collapse to the floor when you notice something shiny poking out from under your bed, the metal gleaming in the muted light. The bookmark. It must’ve fallen out when you pushed your bedside table over to the door.

Rushing over to snatch it up, you weigh the cool surface in your hand as you spin around to face the window.

You’ve already doomed yourself by blowing up at Jimin.

There’s nothing left for you to lose.

Heart in your throat, you hurry over to the window. You find the small patch you have left, using all the force you can muster to quickly chip away the last of the paint sealing it shut. You dig it in, gritting your jaw as your palm aches with every hit. The yelling in the kitchen hasn’t seized so they must be too engrossed in their arguing to notice the faint pain.

You drop the bookmark to the floor as the last touch of dried paint is gone, gripping the ledge of the window as you start pushing upwards.

It’s not moving.

“Come on.” You grunt, exhaling harshly through your nose as your arms begin to burn under the strain.

You step back, giving your muscles a moment of rest before you resume your grip, putting all your remaining strength into one final push. You’re not sure what does it, maybe it's your adrenaline giving you one last boost, or maybe the universe hears your whispered please against the glass, but the window groans – and opens.

You blink at the fresh air that rushes in, in disbelief that it actually worked. You can get out of here.

You can run.

Wasting no time, you throw a leg out of the window, twisting around to grip the ledge as you carefully lower yourself to the ground. The cabin is only slightly raised from the ground but this isn’t the time to be hasty. Not when you can taste freedom in the crisp autumn air, the dark woods around you welcoming you in with barren branches. If you hurt yourself now, it’s game over.

You wince as your feet reach the freezing ground, the cold seeping right through your woollen socks. You hold your breath, sticking close to the wall and hunching down whenever you pass by a window. You’re going in the opposite direction of the kitchen, but you can’t take any chances.

It’s only when you’ve peeked around the edge of the house, making sure the coast is clear, that you sprint directly for the woods surrounding you.

You hit it at an angle, making sure you won’t be seen from the front of the house while still keeping yourself somewhat parallel to the dirt road you noticed before. It’s too risky to use it, your recapture almost a certain thing if you do. There’s a greater chance of shaking them off under the covers of low branches and fallen trees, so you stick to the dark woods, knowing it’s your ticket out.

You duck under a branch, breath fogging up the air in front of you as you run. Everything aches and burns, but you push through it with clenched teeth, ignoring the taste of blood in your mouth. Being held in the cabin for a month has ruined your stamina, your body protesting the intense movement more than normal but your flight instinct is enough to keep you on your feet. You can barely feel them underneath you; the wet mud coating your socks has chilled you to the bone.

Wheezing, you push a thorny bush out of your way, not even registering the deep cuts they leave on your hands. The pain doesn’t matter. You’d sacrifice a limb if it meant you would get away from them.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been running, or how far you’ve gone, but it’s not far enough. Not when you can still make out the faint, panicked screams of your name echoing through the night.

Their calls makes your stomach twist in fear, a terrible reminder of what awaits you if they catch up with you. They must know what direction you’re heading in by now, but you intend to use your head start for what it’s worth. You’re going to let the adrenaline pumping through your veins take you as far as you can go; until your body collapses, or you’re somewhere safe. Whichever comes first.

It feels like you’ve run for an eternity through the woods by the time you see gravel turning into concrete.

You halt by the tree line, clinging on to a low branch as you gasp for air. Your lungs are burning, collapsing, and the air you gulp down stings with every breath. You’re so tired you can barely stand anymore, and yet, you know you need to keep moving. You need to reach the small cluster of lights twinkling far, far away in the distance.

You press your forehead against the cold bark, hoping the dark spots clouding your vision will settle down if you can only catch your breath. Startled, you wince as something light floods through your eyelids, gaze snapping open to find headlights illuminating the dark roads in front of you.

You sway on your feet, staring at the car driving towards you in utter shock. It’s coming from the direction of the city, which means it can’t be them.

You’re saved.

You’re saved.

You stumble into the road, waving your hands desperately as you yell for the car to stop, stop, stop, please stop!

The driver hits the breaks hard, the harsh headlights blinding you as the tires screech against the road. You raise a hand, shielding your eyes from the bright lights. The driver’s startled scream is muffled by the car, the vehicle groaning as it’s forced to come to an abrupt stop a few feet away.

You squint as the driver’s door is flung open, the outline of a man scrambling out. He grips the edge of the door, chest heaving with what you assume is quick breaths from the near miss he just had. The apology for scaring him is on the tip of your tongue, but before you can say anything, the man releases a harsh exhale into the night, the car lights illuminating his breath as it drifts upwards.

“Y/n?"

Your heart promptly drops to your stomach.

Namjoon.

He looms over the car as he shuts the door, the soft click loud as a gunshot in the quiet air.

It can’t be, he – he left yesterday. You allowed him to hug you for far longer than you liked, all because he was supposed to be gone for two days. Not one. Namjoon wasn’t supposed to be anywhere near the cabin today. It didn’t even graze your mind that the driver could be him – that fate could be so cruel to lead you right back to them.

You slowly lower your hand, a new surge of panic building inside of you.

You can run, but you’re tired, and Namjoon is not. There’s no doubt in your mind that he’ll catch you before you even make it off the road. It’s not like you can knock him out and steal the car either, you wouldn’t have been able to overpower him even if you were freshly rested. He’ll drag you back to that cabin kicking and screaming, or – you have one last thing you can try.

Dread weighs you down as you rush forward, making every step feel slow and sluggish, wrong, as you propel yourself right into Namjoon’s arms.

“Namjoon,” You choke, clawing the back of his coat as you press yourself closer, tighter. ”Please – please, take me away from here. I only want to be with y-you, not the others. Don’t make me go back, please.”

“Darling,” Namjoon breathes, utterly overwhelmed. The strong arms wrapping around your back feel like steel bars, caging you against his chest, sealing your fate. ”I don’t understand, Y/n, what–"

“I need you. Only you.”

You just need him to accept, to take you away. He knows the others, knows where they’ll look first and what they’ll do, and once you’re sure you’re safe from them, you’ll figure out a way to escape from Namjoon too.

You flinch at the sound of an incoming call connecting to the car’s speakers, the volume loud even through closed doors. Pulling back, you twist your head just enough to glance at the name displayed across the media system.

JIMIN.

The call disconnects when it isn’t picked up, and your blood runs cold as another one immediately comes in, Hoseok’s name replacing Jimin’s.

They surely can’t know that you’re with Namjoon right now, they’re probably calling to let him know you’re gone, but it only ramps up your nerves, lighting another spark on the fuse that’s already burning up too fast.

Namjoon is staring at the same spot you are, expression tight. The furrow between his brows grows deeper the more he thinks, and you need him to not to that. You need him to trust you. Forget the rest.

“Namjoon,” You whisper sweetly, smiling through the tremor in your voice. You reach up to cup his face, turning his full attention back to you with an icy caress. His skin feels burning hot against you chilled skin, a low buzz spreading from the tips of your fingers all the way up your arm the longer you touch him.

Namjoon looks at you with wide eyes, his lips parted in shock at your willing affection. Everything about him is tense and unsure, but he still leans into your palm, seeking comfort in your touch.

“The others ... they can’t c-care for me the same way that you do. You’re the only soulmate I need, the only one I want. Won’t you please take me away? I really l-like you.”

You let your voice grow softer and softer the closer you lean in, your last words practically whispered into his lips. Namjoon shivers, his dark eyes turning hazy at the close proximity, at how his dreams are so close to coming true.

Nausea swirls in your stomach as his hot breath spills across your mouth, your heart thundering in your chest. Everything just feels so numb, frozen; your emotions too frayed and exhausted to act up, and your body too chilled to move. Still, you use the shaking hand behind Namjoon’s back to pull him closer, your iced lips clumsily grazing the side of his mouth.

This is it, you think as Namjoon’s eyes flutter closed and his breath hitches, you have him.

You just need a little more, just one proper kiss to convince him and then your escape is secured.

You’re just about to inch off the ground to make sure you find his lips when something pained flashes across Namjoon’s face, and he leans back, out of reach.

Confused, you watch as he releases a deep sigh, turning his head to gaze up at the night sky. He watches it for a second, seemingly finding whatever answer he was reaching for, and looks back at you.

“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” Namjoon asks, his dark eyes brimming with hurt.

“W-what? No!” You scramble to pull him close, both hands tugging on the lapel of his coat, but Namjoon doesn’t budge.

“I want to believe you but I can’t, darling.” He shakes his head. ”I have to bring you back.”

“I can’t! Please, I can’t go back, this isn’t what I want–” You plead, desperate, as you try to push away from Namjoon’s chest.

He simply tightens his grip in response, pulling you flush against him until you can feel his heart racing alongside your own. He shushes any attempts of begging, rocking you back and forth as you heave in his arms.

"I would love to whisk you away and keep you all to myself, but it wouldn’t be fair to the others, Y/n. You’re their soulmate, too.”

Namjoon’s voice sounds murky and muffled, insignificant, in comparison to the terror gripping your body.

You can’t go back.

Whatever it is they have in store for you, you’d rather die than experience it.

“What about me?!” You sob, hot tears burning down your cheeks as you weakly hit Namjoon’s chest. ”How is any of this fair to me?”

Namjoon pauses, thinks, before he rests his head on top of yours; nodding into your hair as he says, ”It’s not."

“It’s not fair to you, but this is the best we can do. We’re trying, Y/n, and it's about time you start doing that too.”

Something in you shatters.

Your heart, you think. Maybe your mind.  

They don’t care. No matter what you do or what you say, if it doesn’t match the reality they’ve made up in their heads, they won’t care.

You’re on your own. A scared little lamb clever enough to escape the slaughterhouse, but not smart enough to avoid the wolf. And now it’s bringing you back to be eaten, torn apart, by his whole pack.

Your body can’t handle the myriad of emotions that crash over you all at once. You slump in Namjoon’s arms, legs giving out underneath you. He holds you close, murmuring something you can’t make out as you stare up at the night sky with glossy, unseeing eyes.

You’re just so tired.

The past year has been one big trauma, one you never processed, and now, you got a taste of freedom only for it to be crushed under the tires of Namjoon’s car.

You’re exhausted.

Your vision tilts as you’re lifted of the ground, your numb feet barely feeling the ground leaving them.

You’re cold.

The night sky grows darker and darker, swallowing up the stars one by one as you’re carried around the side of the car. The darkness fills your sight until it’s the only thing you can see, a blast of warm air engulfing your body as a door clicks open.

A low apology is whispered into the car. Dry lips press against your forehead.

You give up.

a/n: please consider supporting me by buying me a ko-fi! 💖

wooo lots of things happened in this one! what do you think about y/n’s chat with seokjin? her walk with jungkook? what vmin was trying to pull in the kitchen? did you think namjoon was going to show up and take her back? let me know, i’m eager to hear your thoughts!!

you know the drill - everything is unbetaed so please excuse any mistakes!

stream indigo and wish seokjin a happy b-day!!